#consider this your heads up i guess? this is why i should write tumblr posts at 3 am

[bunny7567]

I got you - chapter 1

So this is the first fanfic I've ever written. I've been obsessed with star wars for years and with clone wars for months now, especially with Rex and I've had this story in my head constantly for almost a year. I have never written so many words so fast in my life. Made a tumblr account just to read Rex fanfics lol, so hope I get everything right when posting. I already have a couple more chapters written and many other ideas so this will be a long story. I try to follow canon but it does deviate from it a bit, and I'm also mixing some legends and a lot of headcanons in too. The story will deal with mature themes, I'm not yet sure how sexually explicit it'll get, again, never written fanfic before so not sure if I'm capable of writing smut lol but there's a big possibility. Also not gonna be very action-heavy, I'm more focused on relationships with other characters. Echo and Fives will appear a lot too cause I love them.

A/n: adding an edit to mention that I have in fact managed to write some smut in later chapters, so I guess that makes this story 18+. The chapters that have smut will be properly marked as such.

Pairing: Rex x Jedi!ofc

Word count: 3.8k Warnings: heavy drinking; talk of injury; implied ptsd; implied emotional abuse

Next chapter

mesh'la - beautiful di'kut - idiot

~~~

Lexie looked at her face in the mirror, pleading with her mind to allow her to remember what happened, but she’s met with the same confusing, unclear images she’s been trying to piece together for the past few weeks, images of barren landscapes, white armour, red eyes and the look of disgust in them, and was she in someone’s arms?

She read the report, she knows the facts what happened on Geonosis, but for the life of her, she cannot remember herself being there. She cannot remember her master abandoning her, why would he just leave? She cannot remember how she supposedly took charge of the squad of clone troopers that Master al’Prani was supposed to lead, tearing through battled droids trying to reach Anakin and Obi-Wan. And she cannot remember how she got injured. Her hand reaches to the back of her skull, fingers tracing the long scar that still feels tender. It shouldn’t do, not anymore, not after the months she spent in a coma, but she could swear it still hurt.

It didn’t feel real at first, waking up in a medical facility on Coruscant with only med droids around her to relay the news of her injury and the coma she had been in since. She had woken in such a panic that she didn’t even realise how she used the Force to throw one of said droids against a wall, shattering it to pieces. It didn’t get any better when Mace Windu and Obi-Wan finally came to talk to her, telling her about the war that the Separatists had started and the clone army that the Jedi were now leading. It didn’t feel right at all, Jedi as generals, how is that being keepers of the peace? But the most horrible blow came when Obi-Wan slowly sat down on the chair next to her bed and took her hand in his, a sombre expression on his face.

“Alexis, there is something else you should know”, she could feel that the news he was about to relay had something to do with her master, however Lexie could not believe the words that followed. “Master Safir’al’Prani has left the Jedi Order during the battle of Geonosis.”

“No that’s… that’s not possible” she said, voice coarse after months of not being used. “He was just with me, we were on a ship heading to Geonosis… t-to aid you and Anakin, and… did you say during?”

“Yes. Once the two of you got to Geonosis,” master Windu interjected, “he refused to fight alongside the clone troopers. He considered them…” he paused, carefully choosing the words to use, “beneath him. You can read the report yourself, one of the clones in your squad provided a detailed account of the situation”. My squad? blurry images of white armour flashed in her mind but Lexie forced her attention to master Windu’s words. His voice was steady, no hint of emotion as he nonchalantly delivered the most devastating news for Lexie to hear and then handing a datapad towards the injured Padawan.

Lexie took the datapad master Windu offered her, but could not bring herself to look at the report just yet, feeling the anger and pain bubbling up inside of her and worried about keeping her composure in front of the two Jedi. “Thank you masters, I will look through it later, I… I’m a bit lightheaded at the moment.”

“Of course,” Obi-Wan said, sitting up from the chair. “We’ll let you rest now, gather your strength, we can discuss your situation at a later time”.

Your situation, the words ring in her head as she braided her bright red hair. She has a meeting with the Council that afternoon, after three weeks of physical therapy and psych evals she has no idea how she passed. Frustration increased as she once again could not hold onto the images that passed through her mind. What’s worse, she’s been feeling so disconnected from the Force, struggling to meditate, not that it ever came easy to her, and also use her abilities. Struggles she has kept from Obi-Wan, who has been checking in on her during her recovery. But now she had to face the Council, had to hide her struggles and insecurities from them, fearing disappointing them.

At least with Obi-Wan there, she hadn’t felt completely abandoned. Considering the amount of times Master al’Prani had dropped her on his head in the past few years, Obi-Wan was becoming more of a master to her than al’Prani ever was. Guess I shouldn’t be that surprised he just up and left me on a battlefield, she thought to herself, anger bubbling inside of her again. But she still was surprised, and angry, and confused, she tried to not blame herself but she couldn’t help feeling like it was somehow her fault, like if she hadn’t been such a disappointment to him, he would not have left. She shook her head trying to get the thoughts out then looked at the time. Shit! She was late.

Reaching the door to the Council room, Lexie stopped to catch her breath and to adjust her black robes. She didn’t wear this colour before but considered it appropriate these past couple of weeks, feeling as if she was almost in mourning. Taking three long breaths, she tried to clear her mind before entering the room.

“Waiting we have been, come, come”. All eyes followed her as she approached the centre. She looked around quickly, taking in the forms present in person or via hologram, then lowered her head and spoke as clear as she could, trying to hide the anxiety in her voice, “My apologies Master Yoda, I seem to have lost track of time.”

“How are you feeling, Alexis?”  Obi-Wan asked.

“Better, Master. I have been cleared by the medics, I am ready to return to my duties.” She replied, trying to sound confident. This is what I need right now, she thought, craving something to occupy her mind, some action so she could feel like herself again.

“Good to hear that is. A decision about your future this Council has made” Yoda continued. Lexie looked at him, waiting for her verdict. Her heart was pounding in her chest as all her concentration was focused on her mental walls, trying as hard as she could not to let the council members feels the anxiety within her.

“As you know,” Mace Windu begun talking, “former master al’Prani was reaching the end of your training. He believed there wasn’t much left for him to teach you”.

She tried to stop her face from grimacing at the words, remembering a similar sentence al’Prani had spoken to her months before Geonosis: “You seem intent on not learning any lesson I am trying to teach you”. Her mind got lost in the memory, anxiety slowly enveloping all her senses.

“…to consider what you have been through on Geonosis as your Trials and grant you the rank of Jedi Knight”. Those words snapped Lexie back to the present, did she hear him right? Did they really believe she was ready to be a Knight?  She opened her mouth to voice her concerns but immediately closed it. What was she going to do, argue with the Council’s decision? But how can they say I passed Trials that I don’t even remember? she thought, but then recalled how she kept that piece of information from them, not even confiding in Obi-Wan about her memory problems.

“We thought you would be more excited about this”, Obi-Wan’s voice stopped her rambling thoughts.

 “I-I am, of course. It’s just a lot to take in, and, if I am honest, I cannot stop feeling a little disappointed my master is not here to give me the… the happy news himself”, Lexie answered, cringing internally at how fast she spoke and how forced the words had sounded. “What happens now? Do I get assigned a battalion?” she asked after a short pause, hoping to move the subject along.

“At this time we cannot assign you your own battalion”, Master Windu spoke again, either not noticing or not wanting to deal with her conflicting emotions. “However, we believe the best course of action would be for you to join Anakin Skywalker as second commanding officer of the 501st. This arrangement could prove… mutually beneficial”.

“Mutually beneficial?”, she repeated, a slight frown showing on her face.

“Yes. You see, Anakin has been in command of this battalion for a few months now, so there’s a lot you could learn from him”, Obi-Wan interjected; she swore she could hear Master Windu scoff at that statement. “And in turn you could help… curve his impulsiveness, be a good influence on him. The battalion is due to return on world later today and Anakin is expecting you at the barracks first thing tomorrow”, Obi-Wan concluded, giving her a reassuring smile.

Lexie almost laughed at this. If they think I could be a good influence on anybody they don’t know me that well. She kept that thought to herself however, and instead bowed her head. “I understand. Thank you masters, I will do as instructed”.

On her way back to her room Lexie felt the anxiety creeping back in, filling every space of her mind. She was not ready for this, how could they think she was ready for this? Upon reaching her room she quickly peeled off her robes, the layers suddenly suffocating her. She sat down on the floor, trying to meditate, to ground herself in the moment, feeling the beginning of a panic attack. She didn’t think she had panic attacks before. But ever since waking up from her coma, they had been a common occurrence.

Meditating proved more effective this time, Lexie’s heartrate coming back to a more normal pace after a few minutes. Maker, I need a drink, she thought. She dug through her closet, looking for a more inconspicuous outfit, not wishing to attract much attention to herself when out. As a Jedi, she didn’t own many clothing items, however she did have a couple dresses and blouses that she would use on nights out, nights when she pretended to be a regular woman enjoying herself in a club or bar. For this occasion, though, she found a plain, dark-grey hooded jacket that she threw over the black tank top she was already wearing. She kept it unbuttoned, a moderate amount of cleavage still visible. She wasn’t going to specifically look for a hook-up tonight, but wasn’t necessarily opposed to anyone coming up to hit on her.

She went to her usual club, planning on only having one, maybe two drinks. However, the need to drown her insecurities got the better of her and five drinks later she was still at the bar, flirting with a Pantoran man who had just offered to buy her another drink.

She liked the confidence that being drunk would give her, she felt like a different person altogether, like a normal person who could comfortably flirt with other people. She wondered for a second if it was problematic that pretty much all of her hook-ups happened whilst she was drunk, or at least tipsy, but she tried to assure herself that she had always been in control, knowing her limit; hell, she had never gotten blackout drunk, never once vomited from alcohol, she just liked to have fun occasionally, to blow off steam.

Lexie was about to accept the man’s offer when she spotted a familiar Tholothian woman walking in the club. Shit, Gemma. The next second Lexie had pulled the hood over her head and was almost running to the exit, keeping her head down as the Tholothian made her way to a booth where she was greeted by loud, already drunk friends. Lexie exhaled a sigh of relief as she stepped in the chilly night air of Coruscant.

She could not deal with seeing Gemma right now, or with the apologies she would have to make. Guilt crept inside of her as she thought of how she basically ghosted the poor woman. I did say from the beginning that I cannot do more than casual, she tried pleading with her guilty conscience, but she knew she had not treated Gemma right.

Lexie realised she had been walking aimlessly for quite some time now, lost in her guilt, and stopped to look around confused as to where she was. The alcohol in her system was also not helping her in recognising her surroundings. She heard loud chatter ahead and followed it, coming face to face with what was, for her, an unusual sight.

She wasn’t used to the clones yet, she had seen a few troopers around, mainly the Coruscant guard or Commander Cody when he would come to retrieve Obi-Wan, but she hadn’t interacted with them at all during her recovery. But now, in front of a cantina she could see was named 79s, Lexie saw a bunch of them, in either officer uniform or in armor with various markings on it. She observed them for a little while, drunk, rowdy, joking around amongst themselves, they didn’t seem to act any different than other drunk men she had encountered in clubs before.

Alcohol-induced curiosity got the better of her and she decided to go inside the bar. I might as well get used to being among these men, she justified in her head. As she made her way to the entrance she pulled her hood down, gaining a low wolf-whistle that she ignored from one of the clones stood by the entrance.

The club was dimly lit and crowded, mainly with clones, but other sentients, mostly women as far as she could see, were mingling with the troopers. Lexie made her way to the bar, sitting down on a barstool as she ordered a cocktail. She looked around the space, taking in the different hairstyles or tattoos that the clones had, fascinated by their need for individuality. But they really were all individuals, she could feel them each through the Force, all their life signatures unique, something that really surprised her.

Lexie hadn’t thought about them much these past few weeks, being solely focused on her recovery. But being inside the bar right now, she was suddenly struck by how human they all were and, just as suddenly, the knowledge that the Republic had bred these sentient, living beings just to throw them into a war made her feel a pit inside her stomach.

Lexie was brought back from her unnerving thoughts by the realisation that she was being watched and turned her head slightly, just in time to notice two clones basically pushing a third clone towards herself. The clone stumbled and briefly met her eyes, before quickly averting them, embarrassment and nervousness seeping from his Force signature, followed by annoyance as he turned his head to look back at the men that threw him into this situation.

“H-Hi…”, he managed to say, looking back at her.

“Hello there”, Lexie replied, voice full of amusement. This should be fun, she thought to herself, studying the trooper in front of her. There wasn’t anything particular about his appearance, he had a standard haircut and no visible tattoos. The most striking aspect of his look was the handprint located on his chestplate, similar but not identical in colour to the other blue markings on his armor; blue, is that the 501st colour?

“I uhh… I’m Echo”, he said hesitantly.

“That’s an… interesting name. Is that short for echolocation, do you have really good hearing or something?”, Lexie replied teasingly.

“Umm, no, I wish”, he said with an embarrassed chuckle, “I-I used to have this tendency to repeat the orders we were given during training. My umm… my brothers used it to tease me and I guess it just stuck”.

“Well, it’s a pretty cool name regardless”, Lexie said, earning a shy smile from the trooper that was still stood stiffly next to her. “So what brings you over here, Echo?”, she gestured to the space between the two of them.

“I didn’t… it wasn’t really my idea, umm… my brothers keep insisting I need to… umm… talk to a woman. I’m sorry for disturbing you”, he said apologetically. Lexie looked over his shoulder to where the two clones were now leaning on the end of the bar, far enough that she didn’t think they could hear their conversation, but clearly still keeping an eye on their brother’s attempt at flirting.

One of the clones had a more striking appearance, his hair shaved, a big tattoo of the Republic crest adorned half his face and a big part of his skull. The other clone also had a facial tattoo, however smaller and on his right temple, showing the number five in Aurebesh; his appearance was otherwise that of a standard clone, minus a hint of a goatee on his chin.

“No worries, I was starting to get bored actually. And I assume that if I turn you away they’ll just find another woman to throw you at?” she asked half laughing.

“Most likely”, Echo answered with an embarrassed chuckle.

“Then you’d better join me”, Lexie said motioning to the empty barstool next to her. “I expect they’ll leave you alone if they believe you’re getting somewhere”.

Echo reluctantly took the seat next to Lexie, even more nervousness enveloping his Force signature. They sat in silence for a moment as Lexie took a few sips of her drink. Finally, Echo seemed to have gathered enough courage to continue their conversation.

  “I-I don’t want to give you the wrong idea if… umm… if you were looking for…”, he paused, having trouble choosing his words, “for something specific tonight”. His eyes could not meet hers, instead focusing on the drink that she was holding.

 Lexie let out a small laugh. “Don’t worry, honey, I was not going to sleep with you even if you had wanted it.”

 “That’s good”, Echo said with a small sight of relief. “I mean I-I don’t want to offend you, I’m just not…”, he paused, unsure if he should be admitting this out loud. “I’m just not really interested in this.”

 “This being women?”, she asked tentatively.

 “Women, men, anyone for that matter. I just don’t think I’m… attracted to anyone”, Echo replied, eyes turned back to her face, awaiting to see her reaction.

“There’s nothing wrong with it, you know that right? And your brothers shouldn’t force you to be someone you’re not just because they refuse to understand”, Lexie replied with a little indignation in her voice.

“No, I know, I’m not ashamed or anything”, he continued. “And they’re not… well I never actually tried to explain it to them. When Fives and I were at the outpost there was no need to talk about it and I managed to avoid it the last time we were on Coruscant. Fives was too busy finding someone for himself and didn’t pay much attention to me all four days of our leave. This is only the second time we’ve been here actually, Fives and I that is. Jesse has been with the 501st longer than we have.”

So they are with the 501st. “I’m gonna go ahead and assume Fives is the one with the tattoo of the number five”, Lexie remarked with mock deliberation, looking over Echo’s shoulder at the clone in question.

 “Yeah that is a good assumption”, he said with a small laugh. Lexie could feel he was more relaxed now and was surprised to discover she was actually enjoying his company. She’s never really had friendly conversations in bars before, usually only approaching people when she was interested in a possible hook-up, or on the occasions she was looking for information during a mission.

Echo talked a little about the shenanigans he and Fives used to get into back as cadets on Kamino, making Lexie genuinely laugh a couple of time. She could tell that the bond between the two men was special and couldn’t help feeling a little envious. Her thoughts briefly wondered towards her own family, Myria’s face appearing into her mind. No, stop that. She had to change the subject.

 “So, the famous 501st. What is that like?”, she asked after taking a sip of her drink.

“I don’t know if we’re that famous, but they’re good men, all of them. And our general is one of the best”, he answered proudly. “It’s weird though, the reason we’re back on Coruscant is so we can pick up a new general, which seems unnecessary. Fives said they’re probably sending some boring, stuck-up Jedi to babysit General Skywalker, the other Jedi must believe he’s too impulsive”.

  “Anakin impulsive? No way”, Lexie replied with sarcastic shock and a laugh. A sly smile crept on her face as she watched the confused expression Echo made. She stood and downed the last of her drink. “And I wouldn’t worry about the new general, she’s not that bad I think. But then again, I am biased”.

 Echo opened his mouth to say something but before he could get the words out Fives was at Lexie’s side, his hand sliding on her lower back.

“You’re not leaving, are you mesh’la?” he asked in a sweet voice.

 “Oh you’re a bold one”, she replied glancing at his arm and then back at his face, matching the tone of his voice. She was intrigued by the word he used to address her. Was that in Mando’a?

“What can I say, it breaks my heart to see a beautiful woman leave this place disappointed. Unlike this di’kut over here I could make it worth your while if you stayed a little longer”, he said as his head jerked towards Echo then lowered a little towards her.

 “Fives!”, Echo said in an urgent tone, “she’s a Jedi. I think.” His eyes met Lexie’s looking for confirmation, embarrassment once again engulfing him.

“Ten points for Echo”, she replied with a laugh. Fives’ hand immediately withdrew from her body, landing on the back of his neck, rubbing it nervously.

  “S-Sorry, Sir, I didn’t realise”, he said, concern easy to distinguish in his voice as he stepped away from her. Sir? Is that what everyone is gonna call me?

“No need to worry, honey”, she said, amused by the clone’s reaction. “And to answer your question, I am unfortunately leaving, have to be up early.” She noticed the other clone – Jesse, Echo said, right? – had approached them and she gave him a smile. She patted Echo twice on the shoulder and started making her way towards the exit, turning her head to loudly say “see you tomorrow, boys!”.

She laughed to herself as she heard Echo tell the others “I think that was our new general” before the distance snuffed out their voices and she went out the door into the cold night air.

[respondingwithvariedcivility]

I'll likely get back to this tomorrow (or whenever I have the time), but I'd like to clear up some quick things in the meantime: - I am the OP, this is my sideblog. - female mammals control of reproduction is highly species dependent; plenty of species' females have reproductive acts done to them (please do not make me talk about cat penises) - I fully agree that the social construct of gender is harmful and unnatural and therefore should be abolished (although I do not see a realistic way of dismantling a system that's so deeply entrenched) - I think it's important to point out here that not every culture developed the same concept of gender and a lot of what we consider "normal" today was enforced through colonialism (consider the multitude of cultures that had more than just binary systems) - talking about gender as a spectrum (at least in my experience) describes the ways individual people will experience their gender, rather than the societal obligations forced on it. The term 'spectrum' is meant to reference that there are a large amount of individual experiences that do not neatly fit into specific categories - By the very definition of the concept, you would not know if you have met any perfectly passing trans people (unless they publicly share their identity) and a lot of secondary characteristics can and do appear in cis people as well; a common example would be light facial hair on women. - While it is true and I have acknowledged that a trans woman will still benefit from some aspects of the patriarchy, she will still experience disproportionally more downsides. - I am very interested to dive deeper into the idea of what role gender perception and deviation from the norm makes someone a target of violence (will definitely dissect this in a follow up post), but I reject the idea of ascribing it to 'breaking gender roles' alone, when actual, violent transphobia and hatecrimes specifically targeted at trans people (for being trans) are a common occurrence. Your stance here also relies on any trans woman being easily identified as such, which simply isn't the case. - I'm equally interested in the case of nature vs nurture, but unfortunately there is very little science that we can fall back on. - Gender identity isn't a choice, but rather a very complex personal intrinsic experience. While there are aspects we can choose, like how to present ourselves, what label to use, and what changes we want to make, there is an internal identity that drives these choices. - The semantics of gender ideology remain up to you, but I personally would not want to be associated with the term commonly used to drive right-wing extremist talking points. I also think it dismisses the scientific backing of gender studies, similar to how an anti-vaxxer might call it 'vaccine ideology'

At the core of it, I think our disagreement comes down to how to a few differences in definition, as well as the importance we place on sex as an identifier. To get back to the seatbelt example for a moment; the standardized height prioritizes "average" men as the default, as we've established. So while this posits a clear risk to women, the risk also goes beyond this and extends to anyone who doesn't comply with this default. Short men, as the obvious example, but also population groups who have different average heights (the average height by country varies by almost 30 cm globally, the average height difference between men and women of the same origin by about 15cm), anyone with a physical disability, or anyone who is above/below the standardized weight. So while I think it's important to see the origins in sex-based discriminations here, we also have to acknowledge that the system goes much further than that.

Another aspect I'm very interested in is how we both seem to have an interest in breaking down gender norms and allow a free expression of the self, yet I feel like your side is very restrictive by basing this on the biological sex. While we can acknowledge differences in upbringing between presumed male and female children as well as their bodies, I do not think that is what makes someone "male" or "female". Personally, I find that a very reductive view that discounts massive amounts of nuances in both nurture and nature. (As previously touched upon, we've only recently made genuine efforts to understand human body and brain structures outside of this binary, but so far this lines up with the scientific consensus.)

While I'm getting some overdue sleep, I'd like to leave you with a Philosophy Tube video I personally enjoyed on the topic of sex and gender, if you feel so inclined: A Man Plagiarised My Work: Women, Money, and the Nation

Every now and again I wonder if maybe all trans people face roughly the same amount of bigotry and one just gets more attention, but then i have to read terf posts and.

wow.

obviously every group of trans identities faces their own struggles and unique oppression but there's this incredibly vitriolic kind of hatred reserved for transfems and its sickening.

[dragongirlie56]

Doubts and Surprises

My first post and Zelink oneshot on Tumblr! Hope you enjoy! I loved writing this one :)

Ship: Zelink

Warnings? None!

Zelink master list <——- my other one shots! :)

///////////////////////////////

Zelda didn't know why she was here. 

Her father and his advisor, Tarak, were having what seemed like a private conversation (might as well have been) with herself being the topic of discussion along with the utter doom that loomed above Hyrule. One that she was reminded of every second of every day since she was six years old. She really tried to ignore them and think of something to take her mind off of their words but she couldn't.

Her green eyes focused on a tapestry in the far corner. The triforce was elegantly sewn into its dark blue fabric. Why did everything have to be a constant reminder of her failures?

She shifted her feet from side to side, her dress restricting her movements. Her hair itched the back of her neck. Her shoes pinched her toes. And the soles of her feet hurt.

"I think it would be beneficial for the princess to continue her training," Tarak's voice sliced through her thoughts.

Red filled Zelda's vision and her fists tightened at her sides. Training always ended with nothing but disappointment and failure. She knew it, her father knew it, and the people of Hyrule knew it. 

"I agree." King Rhoam's voice carried through the throne room.

Of course he would. Zelda couldn't bring herself to look at her father. The King of Hyrule. She knew he meant well but he did a really good job of being a king instead of her dad. With Zelda's mother's passing, she had no one to teach her the ways of Hylia's sacred power. But the amount of training and praying to the silent goddesses gave nothing in return. Nothing but a boiling resentment that fueled Zelda's inner turmoil.

Did he not have another plan? Nothing to go off of? Clearly the last 11 years of training with nothing to show for didn't faze her father.

"She is scheduled to visit the last two springs. They are our last hope," Rhoam mentioned.

"Either spring will likely spark some power." Tarak added.

Zelda bit her tongue, nothing good would come out of arguing with either of them. Neither would listen to her. It always ended in flames when she argued with her father, she didn't need the both of them coming at her. 

Her fists tightened with every agonizing second. How long had it been? At least a half an hour of them referring to her in third person. Would they even notice if she left? 

Tears threatened to sting her eyes, she would not cry. Not in front of them. She needed out. She needed— Her eyes caught a familiar shade of blue, the champion's tunic. Her breathing stopped short all together when she met Link's ocean gaze. He was stationed by the wall with the master sword strapped to his back—something she used to despise with all her being but now it reminds her of him. He furrowed his brows slightly as he glanced between her and the King behind her.

That's right. He was here. She wasn't alone anymore. Oh why had she been so cruel to him before? 

Maybe she could sneak out with him or come up with some excuse. She knew he would take her away from everything if she asked, which was unrealistic considering their circumstances and duty but Zelda still wished for it. It took everything in her not to run to him then and there.

He tilted his head slightly toward the door—-he must've seen the pleading in her eyes.

"Please be off with your training, Zelda." The golden haired princess never guessed she would be somewhat relieved for her father to say those words, though they still made her grit her teeth. Why did he ask for her in the first place? To listen to someone else drone on about how she should continue her sacred training? To have a second opinion? As if she didn't get enough scolding from him.

"Of course, Father." It took everything in her not to spit the words towards his neatly polished boots. She felt like a child all over again.

She spun on her heels and descended the steps—fighting the urge to sprint down the stairs—to meet Link. Her safety. 

"Please escort her, Link." 

Link didn't need such an order, he was already holding out his hand for her to take. Her fingers wrapped around his own and he led her out.

Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry.

Her other hand flew to her mouth as she heard the doors close behind her. 

She didn't know where to go, but she didn't have to. Link tugged her down the hall without a word.

—————————————————————————————————

Zelda's shoulders relaxed as she breathed in the fresh air of the castle gardens. The sun rose high in the sky with little clouds to cast away its warm rays. Her ears twitched as she heard bees zip between flowers and birds chirp in the trees. She had to admit, the castle crew had really outdone themselves with the garden grounds.

Her blonde-haired knight guided her towards one of the benches covered in peppered shade.

Her throat tightened, she wanted to cry for an entirely different reason. How can he be so thoughtful? I don't deserve it. 

"Thank you, Link." She reluctantly released his hand and took a seat. Her heart sped in her chest, had she really held his hand the entire time?

He nodded once and gave her a slight smile.

"Do you really think the princess can do it?"

Zelda's shoulders tensed at the new voices. She turned her head to glance behind her. There were two guards strolling through the gardens, their armor clinking against their weapons.

"That's what the King says. If she listens to him we should be fine." The other replied to his comrade.

"I don't know. I've heard talk around. People have lost hope."

Their voices muffled as they rounded the corner towards the courtyard.

"I'll be back," Link said, his voice quiet. She flicked her gaze to him and her eyes widened.

"No! Link you don't have to talk to them. It's fine. They... have a right to doubt me."

"How can you say that?" he questioned.

"What?" Zelda didn't stop her mouth from falling open.

His eyebrows were knit together as he stared at her.

Her hylian ears drooped slightly and her voice cracked with despair. "They're right, Link. All I do is train and it's not enough. We're going to lose this war and it's going to be my fault." She shook her head as her tears fell. "How can you even look at me? A-and be so kind to me still?" She covered her eyes, she didn't want to see his reaction to her questions. "How can you not despise me? I can't even wield the power to aid you against him. I would doubt me too."

I do doubt me. She could almost hear her words out loud.

His boots tapped the cobblestone pathway and ended in front of her. She felt him grasp her hands and lower them away from her tearstained face. 

"Prin... Zelda." The sound of his soft voice made more tears spring to her eyes. She didn't deserve his care or his kindness. She was a princess born to a throne of nothing. "They don't see how much passion you have for your people. For them." He sat down next to her. "You're amazing and they shouldn't talk about you any other way. You're doing everything you can. More than anyone... Please look at me."

She lifted her eyes to meet his blue ones and he continued. "You cannot disappoint or fail me... I'm... nothing but proud of you. I... I could never despise you."

Proud? 

Her hands dropped to the bench as she stared at him with wide eyes. She couldn't remember the last time someone told her that. Maybe since before her mother passed. She also couldn't believe Link said so much in one minute.

Link's eyes went wide. He cast his gaze to the ground, blush flushing his cheeks. "A-am I out of line? I apologi-" 

"No, no!" Zelda reached out to place a hand on Link's arm. He whipped his head toward her.

"Thank you. I didn't realize how much I needed to hear those words." She wiped her eyes furiously. "I-" She let out a breath. "Thank you," she repeated.

"Always," he replied quietly and gave her a smile.

Zelda smiled back and let her hand drop.

They sat in a comfortable silence, listening to the trees rustle in the light breeze.

"I don't know if this is the best time..." Link's voice never ceased to startle her, she was used to him being so silent. But she was happy about his newfound courage to speak. She thought it was silly but she hoped it was her that had something to do with it.

Her curiosity grew as he reached into one of his pouches, she leaned to the side to attempt to get a peek at what he had.

He pulled out a small screw and held it out for her to take. Zelda gasped, it was one of the guardian pieces! She carefully grasped it from his hands and stared at it in awe. Her father never let her near them, even less work with the ancient parts themselves!

"I found it at the training grounds for the guardians while walking back from patrol. No one was around to give it to so I... kept it..." His hand came up to scratch the back of his head. "You always talk about the guardians so... I thought..."

Zelda let a grin overtake her face as she stared at him.

His eyes caught hers and his hand froze, his face flushed with pink. She found it to be the cutest thing ever, the usual ever stoic knight blushing at his words.

"Link. This means everything, thank you."

"I- sure." He nodded and dropped his hand. She wanted to kiss him then and there.

"No really thank you. For everything you do. Even when you don't have to." For a silly moment, Zelda wished it wasn't because of his duty to her. But sometimes she thought any other appointed knight wouldn't do half the things Link does for her. Sure he protects her, that's a given. But even when it was his duty, she felt—hoped that deep down it was because of something more.

"I want to," he said simply with a shrug.

Zelda smiled again. Maybe everything would be okay. With the calamity, her training, the future. As long as Link was there she knew she could do it. With him by her side and hers by his.

[myreallymachine]

Perceptions of Junjou Romantica pt.1

I reread Junjou Romantica.

And I liked it, I know it's a red flag; I admit it, and I don't regret stating this.

Okay, so last Saturday, December 03, between these midnight slumps, moments where everything you consider right starts to be questioned, is that Junjou Romantica came to my head, as a blurry idea.

I listened to the thought and after at least 30 minutes of online research, I found a translation page that updates the Manga, more or less up to date and without spelling mistakes, something that is always appreciated.

Before reviewing (this is going to take a long time) then I think it is appropriate to give the respective credits to this translation group:

Credits for the small screenshots I'm going to post to @hibonbl-scan on Tumblr and link to his page where I read the manga (at least the last few caps):

(in Spanish, bc I'm lazy man. Please see the image descriptions (ALT) to read the English translation of the cartoons)

BTW: This post is a translation for a last ONE.

I read the chapters before act 40.5 in TMO and Manga Dogs; please support @hibonbl-scans in their official pages and do not resubmit the manga to these platforms, because it is a demerit to the hard work that this group does for the readers.

Anyway, I'll stop chitchatting because this is coming for a long time, because it is about the avalanche of thoughts both good and bad, of what Junjou Romantica has meant to my life.

On goodreads I rated my review 4.4 out of five stars but… objectively it doesn't deserve more than 3.

Is Junjou romantica a bad manga?

The short answer is: Yes.

But then why did I score it so high?

Because the moment you put aside the bad time the first few chapters put you through, is when you start to highlight the good stuff.

So, a little context for you to understand the crossroads of my life:

My first BL anime, was Junjou Romantica, like a lot of the people who started watching yaoi. I watched it believing that Misaki, the main character, was a girl.

And I was shocked to realize that there could be a genre specific to gay relationships in anime. At that time, I only watched shojo (I also watched kuroko no basket, but I should dedicate another post to that), my epitome of romance was Adrian and Marinnete's relationship from miraculus ladybug, and I was 12 years old.

If I were to go back in time, I would have said to myself, don't watch Junjou Romantica until you understand that the attitudes Usagi exercises with Misaki are not romantic. THEY ARE TOXIC, THEY ARE WRONG and SHOULD NOT BE ROMANTIC.

I was one of the many girls who somehow approached yaoi believing that gay relationships, in real life, were based on abuse and possession which in manga/anime, looked good, but in real life is BAD.

Well, anyway, back then, as soon as I finished the bl anime page, I read the junjou Romantica manga, but I didn't remember anything, so I decided to reread it.

Current context:

I introduce myself; I'm a 17-year-old Chilean girl, who writes BL fanfiction since she saw junjou romantica. My romantic experience is not null, but the truth is that I've never felt in love. Nowadays, I can clearly differentiate the harmful attitudes of my environment and I can say that I managed to say NO to a relationship that was going to become something extremely toxic.

Disclaimer: the manga is not finished yet. But at this point the ending is pretty easy to guess and almost all the main conflicts are settled, so I don't think my opinion will change with the ending.

Also: Too many spoilers.

With this in mind, I can start commenting: Bring your beverage of choice, make yourselves comfortable because this started long and will go on long.

The plot: Usagi is a traumatized novelist, Misaki a traumatized boy but with a cool brother. Usagi and Misaki love each other. 💕

That the easiest plot summary.

I'm going to start with the good and the bad I'll analyze it later.

My favorite character is: MISAKI 🤧

I give a trophy to Misaki, for achieving this position in my heart. A real shame that within the fandom you are so underrated, all because of Usagi's sexy face. However, I didn't fall for Usagi's charms, and I can say that Misaki is one of the best developed characters I've encountered in manga.

WHAT????

When I was 12 I didn't appreciate it, but now. OMG.

Misaki needs real recognition, and so I'm going to start by highlighting what makes him such a mind-blowing character.

Misaki is an orphan boy, and he still blames himself in his 20-something years for this event, for this very reason is that he grows up to become an insecure man with low self-esteem and even comes to believe that he doesn't deserve to be loved.

It gives me certain vibes of Charlie from heartstopper, but worse.

HOW?

Now they're going to want to kill me, I get it.

Misaki, has all these complexes, besides being an orphan, having clear homosexual preferences that he represses and his older brother who has taken care of him, since his parents died, is getting married and, therefore, Misaki must become independent to not disturb the family environment that his brother will begin to form with great effort.

And I emphasize that bother, because Misaki throughout the manga we see him constantly repressing himself for fear of being a nuisance. He shuts up his opinions, his own desires, for the sake of the other person. He is too humble, so much so that it becomes painful. But Misaki grew up like this, it's the way he lives.

But everything I said, it doesn't end there, because the Misaki of vol. 1 changes too much to the Misaki we meet in vol. 27.

Misaki is my favorite character because we see him grow too much, so much so that I ended up in tears of pride just for him.

In the beginning he is, as I said, a snowball of insecurities, which if not healed, is going to end up getting bigger and bigger. His motivations (at the beginning) are basic: finish college, get married, work, and die. A life scheme that she considers boring, but at least it won't cause problems for the people around her.

Misaki, too, has a big issue expressing his feelings, he gets a mental circuit breaker and runs out of words even though he knows them well. He cannot express what he likes and dislikes; something that also contributes to the misunderstandings that occur throughout the saga

(and which add to the toxicity of the main relationship, at the beginning).

But in the end, Misaki not only accepts that he wants to be with Usagi for life, but is also able to express this clearly to her most important circle of people. He is confident enough in the decisions he makes that he can fearlessly reject people who want to go overboard with him. And furthermore, he brings to the relationship he has with Usagi no longer just as a stereotypical "tender Uke" figure BUT now he does so by supporting the very "super strong Seme" that Usagi is supposed to be.

Exactly. Misaki acknowledges that he's pivotal because without him, Usagi would be dead. At first, he says it as a joke, but now we realize that it's true. That their relationship works for the simple reason that they complement each other like a glove.

This is true love 💓. Because we are into something that is mutual.

Misaki can convey that he doesn't like something, maybe with a little more effort than everyone else; but he CAN. He is a boy who has grown into an adult who intelligently recognizes desires, ambitions, fears, and affection.

He transmits and receives love; in all spectrums of the word. As we see in the last vignette. If you only saw it you wouldn't know who Usagi or Misaki are, because they are equals. They consider each other as equals and respect each other as one.

Do you know how much it took for Misaki to identify herself as someone just as valid as Usagi?

Junjou romantica, to me, more than a romantic story is the journey of overcoming a troubled boy through sincere love. It's Misaki's journey, and how this is just beginning, assuming that it will hurt many times and cost; but with Usagi by her side she will be able to overcome the gaps.

There is a reason why the story begins when Misaki is so young. He is 22 years old, just finished college. That is to say, he has all his life and is going to keep learning. Junjou Romantica is the beginning of Misaki's journey.

My favorite scene with Misaki as the main character is when he talks to his sister-in-law about his relationship with Usagi. That explosion of information and feelings they had inside her for years is something magical. I was in tears from how proud I was.

Maybe it wasn't the best confession, but he told her everything he felt, he conveyed to his sister-in-law all the time he has invested in the relationship with Usagi. That it would be for life.

I was with Misaki, supporting him through everything, hoping for the best. I am amazed at how much he was able to convey with those words.

I felt his nervousness. At that point I was already crying, but I had to take a break when I read the following:

So short. So sincere and so meaningful.

I don't think I need to say anything else. Misaki as the best character in the whole manga. First point finished 😉

Now, I know what they're waiting for.

Who they're waiting for.

Usagi-San.

Is he a good character or a bad character, are his actions justified, should he be forgiven?

First, a little vignette of the men we're here to analyze.

One good thing I should point out: His obsession with teddy bears. That has a charm that's hard to ignore. Seeing a guy carrying a teddy bear all the time is wonderful.

In short; Usagi is a novelist, who has a bad relationship with his family and, in reality, knows little about human relationships. We realize this in the first moment, when he attacks Misaki, just for seeing him meddling in her things.

If I'm not mistaken, Usagi never had a steady partner before Misaki, but I want to sound like there was a thing with Hiroki, but I don't remember too well and, I don't really care either (I'll talk about my complicated relationship with secondary partners later).

Okay, so with that in mind, let's start with the bad stuff, just to get it out of the way.

What's up with falling in love with the brother of your biggest crush?

The younger brother, to boot.

I consider that to be the least realistic thing about Misaki and Usagi's relationship, because we're dealing with a replacement dynamic; which ends up affecting Misaki later on.

However, I think that if Nakamura, had the opportunity to remake the first volumes, that would be something that would change; because it is NOT necessary that in order to form a strong relationship between two characters it is mandatory that one has a crush on the other. Misaki's brother himself, is a living image of this. He never had any interest in Usagi in that way and yet, he considers him as her best friend.

(I will also talk about Misaki's brother later but wait).

The second thing I don't like are the attitudes Usagi has, I'll leave a little sequence, so you can realize this by yourselves.

Context: Misaki is talking to Usagi's family and Usagi appears out of nowhere.

I mean, I know it's a joke, but it gets a little murky when we actually realize that Usagi is the kind of partner who would put her boyfriend on a damn GPS, so she knows where he is.

It's controlling.

Still, we can salvage a bit of the reasons why Usagi is that way, so distrustful even of the person he loves; but I must stress that this doesn't justify his actions either. His controlling behavior stems from how much he has struggled to form stable relationships in the past.

See, in the manga itself we are told how for Usagi, Misaki is the first person to cry for him. We are even told that this is what caught Usagi's attention, how Misaki's empathy was so high that he expressed all the pain that Usagi held back, all by himself; despite the two of them getting along “badly” at the beginning of the story.

That's the word: “Irreplaceable”. The main reason Usagi controls Misaki so much is that he knows that he will never find someone who feels the same things, at the same intensity as Misaki does.

Now, does this justify his actions?

NO, NO AND NO.

Let's not confuse motives with justifications, they are very different things, but that we have to realize in order to understand the characters a little more. Because if we start defending toxic attitudes we will be in front of a red flag, and maybe we should start rethinking what we consider love and respect.

Now, let's talk about being possessive, and we don't have to go too far in the manga for the first signs of this attitude to come to light.

This character, who has been almost forgotten, was Misaki's first friend in the uni, when everyone ignored him.

And, in fact, he behaved as a cordial person with Misaki, he made him feel understood and integrated into that micro society that is the University. He even helped Misaki forget for a moment the insecurities that haunted him because he considered himself as his brother's replacement.

In other words, what I said in the first place. Direct effect.

Now. What ends up happening? That Usagi almost wants Misaki to be his. He stresses this to her on occasions where he tells him that he would prefer him to stay in the house 24/7, or in this house itself. Interfering in Misaki's personal relationships.

The good thing is that they're manga characters, so we're dealing with people who function on a scripted basis, but if the situation happened in real life, Misaki's friend would most likely have turned the other way.

Misaki wants to go out to eat with his new friend, but Usagi refuses because he finds himself jealous no longer that he has friendships, but that he is a man. He hates it when Misaki talks to other people, because in Usagi's mentality, that action in itself expresses a sexual interest on Misaki's part.

Which brings us to one of the first major conflicts.

Misaki, for the first time claims that he wants it and Usagi what does he do?

He represses it.

That contradiction is what I hate most about Usagi, who then later complains that Misaki isn't clear with his feelings, that he doesn't hide things from him, what-the-hell-doesn't-he-do. Dude, you in Act 2, when the two of you, in reality, were nothing, not even an official couple; you silenced Misaki.

How does the situation end? With sex and Usagi imposing himself as someone who has greater authority with Misaki and, therefore, must obey him.

I tried to cut the scene as best I could, because it is very explicit.

Honestly, this accumulation of attitudes is what makes Usagi a pretty despicable character to me.

It's a strong word, but unfortunately his pretty face doesn't help us to save points.

But well, not everything is bad with Usagi. But in order to highlight the good, it was necessary to identify how this character started in the story.

Because what I like most about Usagi, is how he recognizes that his past actions were wrong and tries to repair the damage caused in the future. Without repeating the same mistakes again.

For this we have to get to the beginning of the current arc, which I have called as “Confession arc” where the relationship of both, can no longer continue to be kept hidden and, therefore, Usagi understands that in order to form a relationship that is already “for life”, he can not continue to mistrust Misaki in such small situations.

It's not for nothing that the relationships that last the least are the ones with trust bumps. It ends up tiring both parties, and they fail as fast as they ascend.

So, the situation is as follows. We have Ijuiin Sensai, who is a mangaka that Misaki adores with all his life. He admires him greatly, but the only problem is that Ijuiin does harbor romantic feelings for Misaki.

This triggers several conflicts, as Usagi, again with his trust issues tries to “mark territory” with this mangaka. But this does not end up making Ijuiin himself see Misaki as a more “desirable” target. Following the logic that when you are forbidden something you end up wanting it more.

The interesting thing happens during Misaki's 22nd birthday, when Misaki and Usagi decide to travel and by the vagaries of life, Ijuiin meets Misaki. He confesses to him and even tries to kiss him.

At this point, we realize that Usagi, is watching everything from afar, seeing when he considers it an appropriate time to intrude.

The great thing is, Usagi doesn't intrude on this conversation. He does not decide to show himself, as he is confident that Misaki will be able to reject Ijuiin Sensei without further complications.

I think at this point, Usagi starts to put his toxic attitudes aside, and tries to carefully follow Misaki's actions. Something that is really appreciated, because up to this point, I always felt that Usagi, on certain occasions "happened to carry" Misaki, for and for his own benefit.

This vignette actually has more meaning than you think; it shows us that Usagi, despite being able to have it all, what makes her most happy is knowing that he is able to fully trust Misaki.

It makes him happy to know that the person he loves also fights for the same ideals.

Usagi is not a humble person, but we do not realize how in reality, the only thing he always looked for was that; love. Reciprocal and on firm pillars of trust.

My favorite Usagi moment is this one:

If someone says something similar for me, I would hold on to this one without a second thought.

In this sentence, all possibility of failure is left out. Usagi throughout the manga has shown us that he does not intend, for anything in the world to let Misaki leave his side. He has fought against the ups and downs, for that.

To go through this life with him.

That perfectly condenses the character's purpose and how something as human as living can be made better if shared with the right person. Usagi already met him, and this is Misaki, and he is not willing for anything in the world to let go of him.

The Japanese don't have a particular and defined religion; they actually share traits of various religions they have in their daily lives, and JR as such has never really shown too marked religious references other than the typical anime/manga ones, such as the New Year's celebration. But I could say that this is the first sentence that has such a marked religious meaning.

There are various beliefs of death; the Catholic one is that we ascend to heaven and live in paradise, in others there is reincarnation, Shintoism, where humans become kami.

But the fact that Usagi has referred to “this life” transcends the religious, because he makes it explicit that he believes that in the next life he will be a completely different person.

The great thing comes when we realize that one life is full of experiences and hardships and he is willing to spend it with Misaki no matter what. Usagi believes that when he dies, in the next life he is not going to have Misaki and that makes him make the decision to live his current life with Misaki as much as he can.

Therefore, I consider this to be one of Usagi's best moments, for the simple fact that it tells us as readers that this is his final decision and that he doesn't plan to change for anything in the world.

A true: "Till death do us part".

In short. Usagi gives for a lot to talk about, considering all the background of the Usami family behind, but I prefer to leave this section up to here to go to another point.

The best brother in the world?

As I was commenting throughout the post, Misaki comes as a package, so to speak. In fact, there would be no Junjou Romantica without Misaki's brother.

Takahiro Takahashi.

I'm bad with names, so I'll just call him Takahiro or brother, just so we understand each other.

I consider Takahiro to be too good a person, and you can understand at a glance where Misaki got all the humility from: From her older brother.

Takahiro instilled in Misaki the values of hard work, honesty, and simplicity.

From the very first moment, we realize that this character is completely devoted to Misaki, to the point of putting his own dreams aside to take care of his little brother.

Takahiro is aside from this, the biggest hero to Misaki, as he is always the first person he looked to for a second opinion or support.

However, I consider Takahiro, starting from the last arc becomes such a cool character that would lead me to rank him as one of the best siblings I've seen in manga.

Starting with the point that it is not too common for the main characters to have siblings.

THIS CARTOON IS TOO CLEVER.

Takahiro's main flaw is what you see up there; he still sees his younger brother as a child, who is not ready for the adult world. His wife tells him. That Misaki is no longer a child, that he should start seeing him as the independent adult he is.

This of course is going to reflect a shock to Takahiro, who has always sought for Misaki's welfare. Fighting for this with blood, sweat, and tears; defending Misaki from the obstacles that may come his younger brother's way.

But this made Misaki end up, in a subjective way; drowned.

Takahiro is overprotective, that's his biggest problem. Misaki is too important to him and for that very reason, he would like to be aware of everything that happens in his brother's life. He faithfully believes that he knows Misaki too well and trusts that Misaki could never hide information from him because Misaki, in one way or another, is "indebted to him".

Misaki, however, believes that the best way to settle that “debt” (which is the time Takahiro invested in Misaki's childhood), is to get away from Misaki. Letting his brother live a solitary life; with his own family, while Misaki tries to live the best life possible.

Now, clearly they will remain close siblings. I really love the brotherhood between the two because it looks too sincere.

On the other hand, let's have the conflict that occurs when Takahiro discovers his relationship with Usagi and his reaction.

IT WAS SPECTACULAR.

Because it was realistic, he didn't accept everything at the first time. He even gave a look of pure hatred to Usagi, who is his best friend, and took his little brother elsewhere.

I feel, somehow or other this is no longer about gender. Takahiro doesn't care about the issue of Misaki being with another man, but the simple fact that Misaki has managed to make a person who is not him, become someone precious leaves him too shocked.

I feel that if Usagi were a woman, the same reaction would happen. Takahiro doesn't understand how this guy was able to get Misaki to express his likes and dislikes with such conviction, something that even he couldn't achieve.

This hurts Takahiro, because he hates to know that despite all the effort he made, Usagi managed to bring out a part of Misaki that even he, as an older brother, did not know. It is hard to assume and for that very reason he is perplexed.

Also, there's no denying that he even feels guilty, since it was thanks to Takahiro that Misaki stayed to live with Usagi and, consequently, the relationship was established.

Which brings us to this other thing:

I applauded at this moment.

Simply spectacular.

Are we in front of one of the best sentences in the whole manga? I think so, because in this sentence Takahiro shows us that even he himself feels guilty of what Misaki has suffered.

He knows that one of Misaki's shortcomings is to apologize even for breathing, besides being aware that the reasons for this behavior are a result of the difficult childhood he had. And more than that, is the issue that Misaki is never going to feel totally “forgiven” for the death of his parents; we all know that they passed away from driving fast because Misaki was sick and this fact ended up marking Misaki for life.

Takahiro is aware that the weaknesses Misaki has are because of that. He never expresses what he feels for fear of a similar situation happening again due to a need of his, he apologizes for everything and tries to cope with difficulties too great for anyone.

The simple fact that Takahiro told Misaki that if he has a conviction (love for Usagi), he should hold on to it, is extremely important. Because it is the biggest gesture in which Takahiro realizes Misaki is letting go of that feeling of guilt little by little.

Now how does it affect him to know that his best friend betrayed his trust?

One image speaks for itself:

You know what? The fact that Takahiro hit Usagi made me infinitely happy. Partly because it was the punch I wanted to give him in the first few chapters, but in another because it seems like a very human reaction to me.

Yeah, I guess I'm a fan of human reactions.

Now, let's understand Takahiro a bit. He fully trusted his friend, for Misaki to study in the desired university; no one would ever think that your best male friend would end up with your little brother, who is the light of your days.

In Takahiro's own eyes, Usagi took advantage of Misaki; of Misaki's shortcomings when he was still “innocent”.

Something he's not entirely wrong about because coff coff first chapter coff coff.

At this point Takahiro would feel too guilty if Misaki's relationship leads to having painful consequences for his little brother, because he somehow “introduced” Usagi.

I love that Takahiro has told him that he will never forgive Usagi if she hurts Misaki, because that makes family a priority for Takahiro and that no matter what, he will always support Misaki. He treasures him, and as he has continuously repeated; Misaki is his greatest pride.

Anyway, Takahiro of my favorite characters 💖

-✦───────────-✧

Choice of favorite chapters/moments pt.1:

To no one's surprise, I consider the best scenes to be from the 3rd season equivalence of JR's anime.

So I'll give a brief description of the situation, my feelings, and the importance in the plot.

Misaki's 22nd birthday.

It is not difficult for me to infer why this moment is transcendental. First of all, there is the simple fact that during this moment Usagi understands that the fundamental thing is the trust he must build with Misaki and, on the other hand, there is the mere fact that it is a birthday celebration.

Birthdays, although they may seem stupid to many people, are actually something all too human that people do to get closer to each other. It celebrates one more year of the birthday boy or girl's life and wishes for many more.

Misaki's 22nd birthday, marks the beginning of the last arc, where important issues end and begin; such as college and the Usagi/Misaki relationship is put into further question by Misaki's older brother.

Marbles

It happens during Misaki's 22nd birthday itself, but I consider it a beautiful moment to ignore.

Basically, Misaki teaches Usagi that with marbles you can make 3 wishes and Misaki later realizes that she made the same wish as Usagi.

This makes it clear how such a simple custom as making wishes on marbles can actually have a big impact on a person's relationship.

Without a doubt, Misaki always surprises us with how much he makes us feel, with things as simple as that. Nothing extravagant, just sincere love.

Misaki realizes that he wants to live with Usagi.

Then Misaki's older brother starts to pressure him, saying that it is no longer appropriate for a boy, who is finishing college, to continue living as a “kept man” in Usagi's house.

In this context, Misaki is forced to spend a weekend with his brother and family, realizing how much he misses Usagi.

This chapter is actually very important, as something rather peculiar happens. We know that Misaki's older brother is one of the most significant people in her life and, despite having lived with him all her childhood, we realize that the four years or so that he has lived with Usagi have been enough for Misaki to no longer feel comfortable living in her older brother's home life.

Misaki realizes how much Usagi is missing in his daily life, how such a small action as spending a couple of days without each other is already too much.

They will say it's dependency… But I would call it.

Coexistence.

Misaki no longer sees Usagi's apartment as something foreign to his life, before it even felt uncomfortable. Now, he sees that place as the home he needs to recharge his strength. Misaki now realizes that he no longer wants to keep lying to his family about his reasons for living with Usagi.

Misaki wants to live his life with Usagi, in that home that the two of them have been forming little by little.

Clad in fond memories and overflowing emotions.

Which ends up triggering the following vignette, which I decided to include at this point because it is a direct effect of the above.

Bonus: Misaki with kiki.

I include this bonus because it is too adorable. It makes for a total icon. Just that, Misaki with a bow tie is the best. It's in these moments that I understand why Usagi is so crazy about him.

Who wouldn't be!!!

-✦───────────-✧

Honorable Mention:

Okay, this is the third ending of the anime and my favorite song of the anime. Simply spectacular. I highly recommend not only this song but all the Luck Life songs that are available on Spotify and on YouTube itself.

Now, a brief analysis of the song and its relationship with JR.

This is Misaki's song.

Maybe that's one of the reasons why I like it so much.

I could imagine Misaki in a karaoke singing it to Usagi. Because the song reflects how hard it is to express what he feels.

Even if I can't find the right words/ I want to tell you/ 'Cause just wishing won't change a thing./ I can't put it well,/ But I'll pour my heart into this voice/ So don't laugh - just listen.

This refrain aside, it reminds me a lot of the marble episode, how Misaki wants to be with Usagi forever. Sure he wants it, but even so he knows it won't change anything, so he decides to pluck up his courage and take the bull by the horns. He realizes that he can no longer be ambiguous or delay the inevitable.

Me pregunto si tú también/ tienes noches en las que piensas en mí.

We go back to the chapter of Misaki spending the night at his brother's house, feeling devastated at not being with Usagi. We all know that Usagi also felt the same way. In itself, I think this perfectly reflects the comfort level they have reached.

In this changing world, with the two of us unchanging/ You'd be by my side.

I have analyzed it throughout the post, but in short this is the main goal of the characters. To stay by each other's side forever no matter how much the world changes, even if they get older, even if there are new conflicts.

To stand by each other and face the modern world that changes without waiting for anyone. No matter what happens, Misaki wants to face that future with Usagi.

Do you see how much can be extracted from such a great theme song as this one?

┊         ┊       ┊   ┊    ┊        ┊✧°•

┊         ┊       ┊   ┊   ✧｡˚    ✦¤

┊         ┊       ┊   ✫•○

┊         ┊       ✦°•

┊✦°   ┊

✧ °¤    ┊ .  ˚

˚✩

Okay, so Tumblr won't let me post so many images and this is getting too long. I can say that this is the end of this first part of the exhaustive analysis of Junjou Romantica.

I'll be glad if you tell me if you share my opinion, if you think there's something I left out or, by the way, I'm wrong. I tried to make this publication looking at various perspectives and from a rather critical point of view, although, clearly, there are many things that I was influenced by due to my preferences.

In the next part I will continue with my favorite moments, I will talk about the secondary couples, I will make my predictions, I will also say other things I don't like and conclusions. If you have any suggestions or want me to take any specific topic from the anime/manga, in the next post.

I'll be happy to elaborate on it!

I hope you liked it! If so a reblog and a heart is appreciated.

[masonscig]

can i ask why people in the fandom seem to really dislike mishka? (censoring her name and such) this is not meant in an offensive way to you or to anyone else, i’m just new here and kind of confused. like did she do something legitimately wrong or are people just irked by the writing of the new book? hope you have a great day <3

OH yeah sorry i can definitely see how that's confusing to new people LMAO

so, it's a bit of both imo – i've been here since 2020, shortly after book 2 dropped, so my perspective is a lot different than newer fans

so, one of the reasons i censor her name, is because tumblr changed the search functions – used to be, when you looked up something, it was only things that were in that exact word order in a tag – so if you spelled t/w/c wrong in some way, it'd only show up results that were misspelled, if that makes sense

but now, it's like if you look up any word, random posts that mention it anywhere in the post will show up too – and i would rather not open myself up to the m*shka bootlickers bc i just do not have time for that LMFAO

i rarely maintag things these days because i just don't want to be perceived by so much of this fandom, but that's just a me thing

also, in terms of what she did "wrong"... on top of problematic stuff in text, there's a few things i can think of off the top of my head:

encouraging white/washed art by reblogging on to her dev blog while knowingly having the official skintone palette locked behind a paywall (patreon)

when called out for the above, they did vet their pieces i guess – by only reblogging black and white pieces, and art of detectives. then they stopped reblogging art completely

posting a white hand for a morgan instagram edit – and taking hours to delete the harassment in the replies, some of which being actually racist comments with slurs pointed at black people

in a q&a video, referred to m as an "attack dog", which was super insensitive, considering the consistent comparison of m to an animal across all platforms (text, tumblr posts, patreon content)

her treatment of f over the years, both in text and outside of it. her asks were a huge reason that the fandom has an infantilized view of f and they don't even consider them to be a love interest (much less one that gets physically intimate). they see them as a child. this bullet point is a massive one that would take too long to explain. i could probably write an essay on how problematic it is to immediately "other" your singular black character by literally making them an otherworldly alien, but i do not have the time

how she writes nb/trans characters. from what my friends have said who code dive, they get the same dialogue and variants that women do. obviously if you don't code dive or play with nb characters you probably wouldn't notice, but there are a good chunk of people in the fandom who play with nb oc's so... this is something that should be better, but it's not

to add to the above, she said she was getting sensitivity readers but... did they do anything? look at book 3 and tell me if they actually did anything (i have a feeling maybe those sensitivity readers were white queer people)

overall, it's very hard to explain and condense the fuckery my mutuals and i have seen both m*shka do over the years, and what her fans have let slide/incidents they've coddled her up during.

sadly, she doesn't take hard stances on things. she just lets things happen and that just. doesn't bode well if your argument for all these mistakes is "ignorance". if she's getting 10k a month on patreon plus sales (not to mention the fact she's a grown ass woman), then... it's the bare minimum to ask for her to be mindful of her audience and to do better.

and also book 3 sucks xoxo

[noregretsjustlovely]

I re-read the fic ‘Dalton’ by CP Coulter every year, usually starting in November-December. I just finished up and I’m dyyinngggg for an update. An update I’ve been wanting for a decade.

I had a literal aneurism when CP Coulter started posting again on Tumblr, promising to update. I hadn’t been on tumblr in yeaarrssssss and I just so happened to check in on her page one day and had a meltdown! It’s been quiet for almost two years now, but I’m still hoping and waiting for her return. <3

So here’s just a small piece that I was dying to write because Reed and Shane are my all time favorite pairing of ALL TIME! So this is another version of Kurt trying to help Reed figure it out.

_____________

The bristles of the paint brush slid across the canvas, lopping at the end, leaving behind a dark, delicate curl of hair. The artist pulled his brush back, scrutinizing his work. His lips pursed and his brows scrunched as he gazed at the piece of artwork, searching for what was missing. To anyone else, this picture would have looked complete, but to Reed Van Kamp, it was not. Because, well…

He could never finish.

He let out a frustrated breath, pushing his supplies away and crossing his arms. “Having a moment?” He could hear the amusement in his roommates voice.

“Please, Kurt, I’m already struggling.” His strawberry curls fell around his porcelain, freckled face as he dropped his head, shaking it slightly. “Why can’t I stop?”

“Stop what?” Kurt asked. “Stop painting him? Or stop failing to paint him?”

“Stop thinking about him.” Reed whispered. Kurt tried to suppress a smile, failing only slightly. “I don’t know what’s happening to me.”

“You’re falling in love, I think.” The countertenor answered from where he was proofreading an essay for the 10th time. Professor Murdoch would never be able to fail this one.

“Kurt, don’t say things like that!” Reed flailed so hard, he almost sent himself off the edge of the stool he sat upon. “I don’t even think I’m…gay. Or at least, I’ve never thought about it!”

Kurt let out a breath through his nose, noting his place in the essay and pushing his chair back from the desk. He strutted over to Reed, grabbing his wrist and yanking him to the artist’s plush white bed. Reed stumbled on the way, falling onto the bed with an “oof.”

“Reed,” Kurt gave him a stern look as he pulled him upright. “Have you ever actually thought about anything? Like being straight, I mean,” the diva clarified. “Have you ever been attracted to a girl?” Reed was silent for several seconds. Kurt waited patiently, knowing the answer.

“Well…not exactly, I guess?” The small artist finally relented. “I’ve grown up watching the most gorgeous women strut down runways and model for magazines, and I’ve always been able to acknowledge that, of course. But, I guess I’ve never thought anything other than that. That they look good in the designer clothes.” He sighed and fell backwards on the bed, his legs hanging over the edge. “It’s just…scary. I’ve never had someone so openly…taken with me?”

Kurt snorted. “‘Taken’ is the understatement of the century. Shane literally worships the ground you walk on. When you’re within a mile of him, his eyes never leave your direction.” He patted Reed on the knee. “I know it’s confusing and stressful for you, Reed, trust me, I do. But no one is expecting or forcing you to make any decisions. Even Shane. He may be hoping and praying and pleading to the heavens, but he would never pressure you into an answer or reciprocation. Time is all yours, my fellow fashionista.” He glanced over at his best friend, who had his face hidden behind the arm draped over his head. “I do think, however, that you should seriously consider trying to figure it out soon, though. I can see how much this is bothering you. We will all love and support whichever decision you make. Do you want me to ask Blaine to have Shane back off?”

A small spasm caused the bed to shake slightly. “I’ll take that as a ‘no?’” Kurt smirked, enjoying the color making its way to Reed’s face. “Okay, let’s get real here. Do you think he’s cute?”

“Kurt-“ Reed groaned, pulling his arm from his face and glaring at the ceiling.

“Answer the question, Reed. Stop being such a drama queen.”

“…” Kurt could hear Reed grumble a quiet response.

“Reed! Sit up and answer me right now, or I’ll take the tweedles’ zombie apocalypse baseball bat to your brand new art supplies!” Reed shot straight up, staring wide eyed at Kurt.

“…you wouldn’t.” He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. His roommate just raised a delicate eyebrow at him, poker face strong.

“Would you like to test that theory?” Reed wasn’t sure that he did. He saw Kurt destroy Tabitha without even breaking a sweat. “Now, do you, Reed Van Kamp, think that Shane Anderson is cute?”

Absentmindedly, Reed was tinkering with the ring that hung around his neck as he glanced over to the abandoned painting. His eyes traced over the perfect details of the subject’s face. Every laughter line and every smooth curl of his brunette hair. He lingered on the swirls of green in the eyes that he had memorized and he almost smiled. “He’s beautiful.”

Kurt’s eyebrows shot up. “Like runway model beautiful? Or like you’re falling in love beautiful?” Read glared at him, but he was failing at fighting the grin that began to grace his face. “Noted.” Kurt laughed. “So, what does anything else matter, then? You don’t need to label yourself, Reed. If you’re not completely comfortable with shouting it from the rooftops, then don’t. But if you like him, and he makes you happy when he’s around, then isn’t that enough? It would be enough for him. And you know as well as I do that everyone here would be more than happy for you.”

Reed shook his head with a laugh, eyes misty. “I do know that, of course. I don’t know why I’ve been so worried.” He threw his arms around Kurt, who yelped in surprise, but hugged him back, patting his messy hair. “Thank you, Kurt. You always know what to say.”

Kurt chuckled as Reed pulled away, and he held onto the shorter boy’s shoulder. “I just want you to be happy. I can see that, even though you get jumpy around him, you do enjoy his company. I just hope you can “diva up” soon and claim it.” The ‘Alice’ of Windsor winked at him. The ‘Dormouse’ just pushed him slightly away with an eye roll accompanied by a smile.

“Don’t hold your breath,” Reed sighed, eyes still a little prickled from the conversation. He stood and brushed his hands over his wrinkled clothes. Yanking his sleeves up, he made his way back over to the canvas, only tripping slightly on the way. Planting back down onto the stool, he picked up a clean brush, dipping it into one of the colors on his palette. Kurt considered him for a moment, but decided to just let him be for now to sort through his thoughts. The countertenor walked back over to his desk, starting back where he left off on his paper.

It could not have been more than 20 minutes before Kurt heard the clatter of a brush hitting the ground. He cringed at the image of spilled paint, but the concerned thought left him the moment he saw Reed’s face.

The strawberry blonde boy sat, paint streaked down his clothes from where the brush fell, staring in amazement at his artwork.

His finished artwork.

“I…I did it.” As Shane’s lovestruck expression stared back at him from the canvas, the expression he always wore when looking at Reed, the smile that took over the artist’s face was small and intimate, and a single tear finally escaped his eyes.

[seehowsupplethespineis]

The Decepticon House of Frights! (Part 1)

(Hey, long time no posting! In honor of the Halloween season, here's a spooky themed G1 fanfic. As this is in the G1 universe, I tried to write this like a legit episode, so expect nothing to make sense. Hopefully I'll finish this up by Halloween, but if not, oh well. We of Tumblr celebrate Halloween year-round anyway.)

(Warnings: None)

(AO3)

“I still don’t see the point of all this,” Ironhide grumbled.

Glancing his way, Bumblebee couldn’t help laughing as he watched the red Autobot struggle to remove spider webbing from his servos. Spike’s laughter mingled with his own and he felt the boy grip one of his horns so he wouldn’t topple off his shoulder.

“C’mon, Ironhide!” Spike teased, “How many times do I have to explain it?”

With a grunt of frustration, the pickup truck attempted to wipe his hands on the nearby control panel for Teletraan 1. Wheeljack’s not gonna like that, Bumblebee mused quietly. Carefully reaching down, the yellow Autobot grabbed the last handful of fake webbing and handed it to Spike. Ironhide glared at how easily he managed the task.

“I just think this whole Hallo-watchacallit is a waste of fuel,” he griped, “ ‘Specially when there’s Decepticons that need a poundin’.”

“Prime and the others have it covered,” Bumblebee reminded him for the umpteenth time, “We have our own mission to complete here.”

“Decoratin’ for some human holiday we know nothin’ about?”

“Precisely!” Bumblebee replied with a smile. Not waiting to receive the glare he knew Ironhide would throw at him, he turned back to Spike and watched as the boy pinned the last of the webs to the wall.

“That should do it!” 

Stepping back, the two friends surveyed their handiwork, nodding to themselves.

“Spooky,” Bumblebee concluded, even though he didn’t understand why strands of thread were considered scary. If Spike wanted scary, they could hang a picture of Megatron.

“Yeah!” Spike enthused as Bumblebee set him down, “A regular haunted house!”

“Haunted what?” Ironhide glanced up from his ongoing struggle with the webs.

“Haunted house,” Spike repeated, “It’s a place where ghosts and scary monsters jump out at you. It’s a load of fun!”

Bumblebee felt a tinge of alarm at Spike’s enthusiasm, “That doesn’t sound fun.”

“I wouldn’t go in there,” Ironhide agreed, “Not without a good blaster.”

Spike shook his head emphatically, “It’s all pretend. They just give you a good scare, is all. No danger. “

This did not relieve Bumblebee’s confusion. Glancing at Ironhide, he could see the same expression reflected back at him. Humans were strange creatures. Why on earth would they want to be scared?

He voiced his thoughts aloud, to which Spike struggled to respond.

“Well, uh…I don’t know. I guess we just like the thrill or something.” Something lit up in his gaze and he gestured to Ironhide, “Like how Ironhide likes fighting Decepticons even though it's dangerous.”

“For them!” Ironhide added with a grin.

Spike ignored him as another thought struck him, “And you get to test yourself- see how long you can last without running scared.”

Bumblebee considered, “So…it tests your bravery?”

“Yeah, more or less.”

“Well, shoot,” Ironhide broke in, “Why didn’tcha say so? Half the Autobots’ll dig that, myself included!”

Bumblebee frowned, “I don’t know…”

A mischievous grin split Ironhide’s face, “What, ya roboto-chicken?”

The accusation rang true, though Bumblebee was loath to admit it, especially in front of a senior Autobot. So, bristling with mock disdain, the yellow car shook his head.

“Of course not! I just…think we have better things to do with our time, is all.”

He realized too late that he’d echoed Ironhide’s sentiment of before. The older Autobot gave a knowing smile but thankfully didn’t call out his bluff.

“Aw, c’mon Bumblebee!” Spike grinned up at his friend, “It’ll be fun! What d��ya say?”

Facing an attack on two fronts, Bumblebee at last let out a sigh.

“Fine, I guess it could be fun.”

His voice stuttered at the end as Ironhide slapped a servo on his back.

“That’s the spirit! ‘Sides, what’s the worst that could happen?”

~

Ironhide’s enthusiastic words echoed in the vast control room of the Decepticon base. With a click, the recording stopped and the small cassette player at Megatron’s feet transformed back into his trusted communications officer, Soundwave.

“Excellent work, Laserbeak,” he praised, though he had no idea whether the minicon could hear him within Soundwave’s chest.

“Excellent? What’s so excellent about some stupid human custom?” Starscream scoffed. As always, the mere sound of his second-in-command’s voice had Megatron clenching his fists.

“As always, Starscream, your shortsighted stupidity knows no bounds.”

Starscream opened his mouth to argue. A fierce glare had him shutting it again. Satisfied, Megatron continued, knowing both Starscream and Soundwave were listening attentively.

“This ‘haunted house’ will prove the perfect trap for those cursed Autobots. All we need do is set it.”

“How do we do that?” As always, Starscream couldn’t go more than five astroseconds without speaking.

“You will be in charge of that, Starscream,” Megatron growled, “Fail me and I will have your spark.”

With Starscream suitably cowed once more, Megatron leaned in to divulge the plan.

Foolish Autobots, he thought to himself, Your connection with those insignificant life forms will prove your undoing!

[hudine]

Well onto part 4 of my still nameless fic. Right now I’m just kinda posting to tumblr as I write.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

They made it into the mountains following hoof prints when they got jumped by a sylvan and a couple of elves. They came too tied up together in a cave.

“This is the part where we escape?” Jaskier asked as he worked on getting his hands free.

“This is the part where we die,” Geralt replied sardonically.

“Filthy humans,” one of the elves said and hit Jaskier.

“Leave him alone! He’s just a bard!” Geralt exclaimed and managed to head but the elf.

“No not the lute!” Jaskier yelled too late as the other elf smashed it. Jaskier was about to yell at them in elder when a familiar elf joined them in the cave and Jaskier groaned.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” He asked lips turned upwards.

“Just a couple humans. We should kill them before they bring others,” the female elf who had hit Jaskier proclaimed.

“They’re not human. Not entirely anyway. Are you blind as well as sick? He’s not only half fae, he’s also a prince. That’s Prince Julek of the Springtime Seelie Court. Considering they just agreed to take us in I don’t think killing one of the Queen’s children will endear us to my aunt any,” the new elf replied, “Hello cousin. You seem to get yourself in some of the most interesting situations.”

“Filavandrel. Well met. I’d give a proper bow but I’m a little tied up at the moment,” Jaskier replied amiably.

“So I see,” Filavandrel said trying not to laugh at the situation. He knew his cousin could get out of that if he really wanted to. “So who’s your friend?”

“Filavandrel, this is Geralt of Rivia, Witcher of the wolf school and childhood friend of mine. Geralt this is Filavandrel the last High King of the Elves. Also my first cousin. He’s he’s fae on his mother’s side which is actually rather common in Elvish royalty. His mother and my mother were sisters.”

“A pleasure to meet you your majesty. I’d also bow but am also a little tied up right now,” Geralt greeted.

Filavandrel let out a snort of laughter. “No you wouldn’t. You’re a Witcher. You’re also one of Vesemir’s pups. I have no doubt he’s taught you that Witchers are neutral and bow to no kings.”

“Yes well, Vesemir no doubt also tried his best to teach the pup manners and he’s trying to be polite,” A new voice spoke up followed by another man who looked a lot more like Filavandrel, only he had eyes that glowed more unnaturally blue and his ears wasn’t quite as pointed.

“Fuck,” Jaskier swore when he saw the second man, “I’m not going back Blaze!”

“Well I guess this answers the question of where you ran off to Jules. Is that Eric you got with you?”

Geralt grumbled a bit before speaking up, “It’s Geralt not Eric. Hasn’t been for a long time.”

“Oh yes, that’s right. Vesemir made you change your name before you could leave the keep. I don’t know why Witcher’s insist on changing their names before going off on the path the first time. While yes it is true that names have power, knowing one’s true name isn’t some sort of spell to compel people into doing things. I swear humans come up with some of the strangest rumours about my species.”

“They don’t all change their names. Although I suspect that old wives tale has a lot to do with why. I personally prefer to think of it like the old Shobogan tradition dating back to before they where fae, you change your name as a promise to who you are and/or want to be now because you have outgrown your old name,” Jaskier explained.

“Is that why you’ve been insisting on going by Jaskier?” Geralt asked, genuinely curious. “Who are the Shobogan anyway?”

“Yes, the other reason doesn’t matter since my cover has been blown. Shobogan is the name of our subspecies within the fae… lot of people just refer to us as royal fae but once the fae was a huge federation spanning many spheres with lots of different races. It’s why I’m considered fae even though I’m technically only half, it’s because I’m a citizen in the ruminants of that federation. Or species like that sylvan we tracked up here, or dryads for example are also considered fae. The elves first thought the humans where a subspecies of fae because they look a lot like the shobogan. Main difference between the two being our second heart and eyes.”

“You’re telling this Witcher our secrets!” The sylvan shouted, incensed.

“I didn’t go through the trail of the grasses, nor the tail of dreams. Never needed to. I did go through the rest. I’m technically also a Witcher,”Jaskier said as he broke out of the ropes binding them.

“Yes, very dramatic brother. We all know you worked your hands free ages ago and could break free at any time,” Blaze stated, rolling his eyes.

“Yes well. Had to find the best time for melodrama. I wouldn’t be me otherwise.”

“Yes well now I’ve found you that saves me a trip to Kaer Morhen to look for you,” Blaze stated.

“I’ve not had the courage to go there yet,” Jaskier confessed.

Blaze continued as if he said nothing, “Now the question is where is Valdo? He’s obviously not with you.”

“Who?” Geralt asked.

“Valdo Marx. My nephew. Sister’s youngest, the same age as me,” Jaskier clarified.

“And those two have been practically inseparable since he arrived back in our realm after the sacking. Have you seen him? He’s about this high.” Blaze held his hand up to indicate how high. “doesn’t actually look like he’s related because he’s got his father’s dark complexion and thick curly black hair which he wore short last I saw him, and has a thing on his face he thinks is a beard and moustache but really can’t grow one properly yet.”

“No, not seen anyone like that,” Geralt answered.

“I got no idea where Valdo ran off to. I didn’t even know he was missing, besides even if I did know I’m not going to tell you,” Jaskier added, “one of us needs to get out of court at least.”

“I’m not dragging you back to mother. I’m way too busy. Finally talked Filavandrel into bringing his people to our lands. Better to loose pride than be dead.”

“We’re resorting to stealing grain laced with iron from the humans. It seems we really need to move sooner rather than later if they’ve resorted to sending a Witcher up here. It won’t be long before they come looking themselves and probably in large numbers. We’re starving and sick. That’s not a fight we can win. The question is if we can get everyone out by then,” Filavandrel speculated.

“It will take a while to move so many,” Jaskier acknowledged, “Geralt… yes I have heard about the whole Blaviken incident. No I don’t believe you wholesale slaughtered anyone without reason. I know you. That’s not who you are. You don’t have to talk about it. I only bring it up because I have an idea but it does lean into that reputation a bit.”

“What?” Geralt asked, just knowing he was probably going to regret asking.

“Well you know how I can convince people of just about anything if I sing about it?”

“The frost trolls still ask if you are ever going to come back and preform for them after you got us all up the mountain that way,” Geralt replied ruefully.

“What if I make a song that makes people think you got rid of all the elves around here. By the time anyone thinks to look they’ll be long gone.”

“Sure, if you get people to start paying what they owe me while your at it,” Geralt agrees with obvious sarcasm.

“You know you just guaranteed it will make it across the continent and be sung in taverns for the next hundred years, right? You don’t tempt fate like that. She loves irony,” Blaze stated more than asked.

“You’ll need a new lute. I have one laying around doing nothing that belonged to my mother. Got to add to that irony after all,” Filavandrel added.

@xxx|}::::::::::::::::::::> <::::::::::::::::::::{|xxx@

[spaceofentropy]

20 questions for fic writers (and artists)

I was tagged by @dragonflylady77 and, why not? Why not procrastinate a bit? :P

1. How many works do you have on ao3(Tumblr)?

14.

2. What's your total ao3 (Tumblr) word count?

253,035 as of right the fuck now. Holy moly that's a lot.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

I've written for Why R U? and now for Stranger Things.

4.What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Of soulmates and colors (a chonky metalsandwich soulmates AU)

What happens in Vegas... (a WhyRU? canon divergence with Tor waking up in Vegas, married to his ex)

I just came to say... (modern era Harringrove meet cute)

Amok (modern era Harringrove thing about Billy meeting his mom by chance and being conflicted as fuck)

Like a curse (the WhyRU? heist AU nobody had asked for but they still had to face)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try. Sometimes I'm slow as fuck and sometimes I'm perched on my inbox like a starving hawk, but I always try.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Probably What doesn't kill you makes you a monster, which is an angst fest built around body horror and body mutation which ends with Steve having basically no hope about the future. But then, months after, I went and wrote a follow up fic where Steve gets to find another monster and fall in love with him and have a HEA, so I guess it only half-counts ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

7. What is the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Uh... I honestly don't know. I mean, I mostly write fics with a good ending or at worst a hopeful ending (like Come Close) and I honestly don't think I can't rank which of my HEA fics is the happiest, so, all the happy ones? I guess?

8. Do you get hate on any fics (Art)?

So far, never.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yep, I do, even if it's hard as hell and I always feel like it sucks. As for what kind... uh... I don't know how to answer... The smutty kind? Sometimes it's soft. and sometimes it's hurried, and sometimes it's filthy monsterfucking because monsters, too, deserve to get laid.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

My heist AU is a crossover between one show, a different show, and an AU of the first show. Two actors from the first show play minor parts in the second show. It's a wild, wild thing.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No.

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

Harringrove.

15. What's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Probably that one Gallavich thing I wrote 90k words of because I had to put it out of my head and is close to the end but when I look at it makes me feel eh because Ian's part of the plot feels to passive and NOPE!, that's so fucking wrong, vade retro Satana!

16. What are your writing strengths?

Plotting and dialogue. And wild ideas.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Descriptions. Smut.

18. thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

To quote Guin, "get it checked by a person who speaks that language before you post". Preferably a native speaker who can tell you if it sounds like your easy going teenager was possessed by the ghost of a stuffy academic from the 1820s. Also, it's a hard balance to make it not too distracting, to make sure it doesn't kill the pace of the story, so good luck in your endeavours, fellow writers!

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Honestly no idea.

20. Favorite fic you've written?

I love them all, they are my self-indulgent nuggets of entertainment and I won't pit them one against the other trying to choose a favorite. I reject this question. U_U

I should tag people, theoretically, but honestly I don't have the brain power for it tonight. If you read this and want to do this, consider yourself tagged. Have fun! :3

[elizmanderson]

"a kiss to anger a third party," perhaps from this post? elizmanderson. tumblr. com /711617943947067392

okay so fun fact, I am actually an idiot who read right over “another kissing prompt” on the post this kissing prompt came from and rb it just intending to like save the list of different kisses for later

but then I was too embarrassed to admit that in response to this ask WITHOUT writing something so long story short instead of researching lighthouses today like I was supposed to, I wrote a 1,700-word short story about fake girlfriends who kiss in the hallway outside grandma’s sewing room to piss off some shitty relatives

so. yeah. uh. enjoy I guess.

A KISS TO ANGER A THIRD PARTY STORY THAT I DIDN’T MEAN TO WRITE BUT HERE WE ARE

Fake dating has been going shockingly well, considering you’re terrible at real dating and also at lying, and somehow faking dating is both. Then again, family get-togethers are always awkward as fuck. Your cousin and his wife always share a chilly silence; your uncle has a casually off-color comment for every occasion; your mother judges everyone like doing so is an Olympic sport; and your grandparents desperately try and fail to keep the peace. So no one notices that you and Maeve stand across the room from each other instead of holding hands and melting into each other’s bodies the way two lovey-dovey newlydatings should allegedly do.

Rather, if anyone notices, they figure it’s normal. That’s how relationships are in your family, grandparents aside, and everyone has long since written them off as sweet old weirdos. The only reason you don’t think the lingering gazes you share with Maeve are more action than your relatives have ever had is the existence of multiple generations of biological children.

You share a gaze now. Not because you’re actually into Maeve, although you’re not not into Maeve; you picked an attractive fake girlfriend. Tall, with an undercut and dark eyes and a crooked nose and muscley arms that sometimes you think would be really great for picking you up and throwing you onto a bed, before you remember this is fake and please brain do not.

The corner of Maeve’s mouth turns up. You look away, biting back a smile.

You would like to stand here not-smiling at Maeve all night—or at least until the end of the torturous family cookout, which hasn’t even technically started yet because your uncle decided to “help” Grandpa with the grill and ended up setting all the food on fire instead, and the second attempt at dinner just went on the grill three minutes ago—but you seriously have to pee. In lieu of food, you’ve downed three cans of Coke from the drinks fridge in the garage. You cross the kitchen, accidentally-on-purpose brush against Maeve as you exit, and head down the hall to the half bath.

When you come out, you hear voices. Snatches of words. Your mother and cousin-in-law, sitting in your grandma’s sewing room. They’re supposed to be organizing it for her, but instead they’re sitting on bolts of fabric, gossiping.

“...tried to tell me they’d found someone, but they look absolutely miserable with that girl they brought,” your mother says. With a jolt, you realize she’s talking about you. “Maybe they’ll sit together at dinner, but with how far apart they’ve been standing since they arrived, I doubt it. And that girl has been scowling at everyone.”

“She’s worse than Luc,” your cousin-in-law says smugly. “And god knows he has the worst resting bitch face I ever saw. Sometimes I don’t know why I fell in love with him. No offense.”

“None taken. He’s not my kid.”

You don’t even like Luc, but your fingers curl into fists. As usual, you wonder what the fuck you did in a past life to be born into a family of people who spend all their time hating each other.

“Anyway�� —your cousin-in-law examines her nails, fresh from a day at the salon, where she surely treats the staff hellishly— “I don’t think it’ll last. They’ve hardly spoken two words to each other all afternoon.”

Your fists tighten. She’s one to talk. She and Luc have hardly spoken to each other since the day of their wedding; on the rare occasion you do hear them speak, they’re picking fights. She gushes about her perfect marriage to anyone who will listen when her husband isn’t around, but their marriage—your uncle’s marriage, your parents’ marriage, every marriage around you except your grandparents’—is exactly the reason you’ve been so reluctant to date. The reason you asked Maeve to fake being your girlfriend, so your relatives would stop offering to set you up with someone. They all make each other fucking miserable.

And they think you and Maeve won’t last?

Okay yeah sure fine, you and Maeve aren’t a thing in the first place. Not really. You’re neighbors, and coworkers, and maybe friends now.

But since Maeve agreed to fake-date you, you’ve shared more with her about yourself than you have with...anyone, maybe. Definitely more than you’ve shared with anyone in your family. Definitely more than they share with their respective spouses, or each other.

Silly things, mostly. You like it when the front door of a house is painted bright, aqua or magenta or chartreuse. Your favorite flowers are all the yellow ones, like dandelions or forsythia, even though otherwise you’re not that fond of yellow. You always like the sad songs and love ballads more than the fun, fast-paced songs that steal the show. Things that don’t matter, except that they do, because now Maeve points out all the brightly colored doors when you walk back to your apartment building together after a shift.

Your mother and cousin-in-law are still talking. The conversation has moved on now—apparently your uncle has cheated on his wife, again—but you’re angry. Your skin prickles. Your nails bite your palms. You could nudge the door open and confront them, but confrontation has never been your forte.

Instead, you tiptoe to the kitchen and touch Maeve’s back.

She half turns, an eyebrow quirked. “You okay?”

“Yeah. I just. I need you to come with me.”

“Why?” Maeve asks, but she’s already following you back down the hall.

“Because my relatives suck and I need you to kiss me.”

You stop far enough from the sewing room that your mother and cousin-in-law probably won’t hear you. You turn toward Maeve, leaning against the wall with your arms crossed. It hasn’t occurred to you that the words I need you to kiss me actually just crossed your lips. Maeve’s dark eyes flicker over you, but she mirrors your posture and waits.

“They’re all in shitty marriages,” you say in a low voice, “except my mom, because she’s in a shitty divorce that was so shitty it was almost as bad as the marriage, except that it was over faster. But because we’re not attached at the hip or making googly eyes at each other, they think my relationship with my new girlfriend is a dead-end that’s going to end before it’s begun.”

Maeve snorts. “Fuck them. I may not make googly eyes at my fake girlfriend, but they’re nuts if they think I wouldn’t go to the ends of the earth and back for my fake girlfriend. Or, like, bring home takeout every night after work, or always do the laundry because they hate doing laundry, or whatever.”

That gets you for a second, because okay yeah sure fine it’s all fake, but Maeve still just kind of said she’d go to the ends of the earth for you. And bring you takeout. And always do laundry, which honestly might as well be a marriage proposal, because someone doing the laundry so you don’t have to is well and truly your love language.

“So.” Maeve’s eyes rove over your face. “Not that I object to kissing you, but how exactly is kissing going to help this situation?”

Right. You asked her to kiss you. Or more accurately stated slightly desperately and angrily that you need her to kiss you. You tense, trying to sound cool and nonchalant when you’re now thinking about kissing Maeve.

“When my mom and cousin-in-law come out of that room,” you say, nodding back toward the sewing room, “I want them to see us kissing. Like, really kissing. You know.”

The corner of Maeve’s mouth lifts again. “Really kissing. Gotcha.”

You flush. “Yeah. That. I just. I want...” You want some really great kissing. Focus. “I want them to see that we’re actually fucking into each other and super affectionate with each other even if we don’t feel like turning it into a performance so everyone else will believe we’re in love.”

Maeve tilts her head. “Even though it’ll literally be a performance so everyone will believe we’re in love?”

Your flush deepens. “Yeah.”

Maeve shifts closer, her eyes flickering over you. God, her eyes. Dark and intense and always just a little bit sad.

“I think I can sell being fucking into you,” she says quietly.

Shit, you think vaguely, poor choice of words on your part, because fucking and you are the only things you can think now that Maeve has repeated them back to you. But the thought slips away, because now Maeve is an inch away, her tall body curving over you, and her hands are cupping your face and oh my god she is actually really for real going to kiss you.

Her lips brush over yours, soft and sweet. Your breath hitches.

The door opens down the hall. As your relatives step out of the sewing room, Maeve crushes your lips under hers. Her hands slip into your hair, your arms wind around her neck, you pull her down, closer, closer, and now you’re kissing her back, your fingers playing in her hair just because they can, your eyes closed, your skin glorying in the warmth of her breath, the press of her body against yours.

Behind you, Luc’s shitty wife makes a sound of disgust and says, “Oh my god, get a room!” Your mother hisses, “Do you want to give your grandmother a heart attack? Right outside her sewing room!”

But (a) your grandma is safely outside by the grill, far away from the sudden make-out session, and (b) your grandma, if she saw you kissing a pretty girl, would almost certainly say something along the lines of “isn’t that sweet!” or “good for them!” And frankly you don’t remember why it was important to kiss Maeve where your mother and cousin-in-law would see it. Or whether there was a point to kissing Maeve at all, unless kissing Maeve was the point.

Your brain is preoccupied with Maeve’s lips on yours, her hands cradling your head, your body crushed beneath hers. But as your relatives slink past and disappear, as the sliding door in the kitchen opens and slams, as Maeve goes on kissing you like her life depends on it, as you fail to say something along the lines of okay we can stop now—as you fail to say, in fact, anything at all—you think, distantly: maybe this dating is less fake than I thought.

[zannolin]

hi! this ask might be a bit strange in which case i apologize in advance, but i just wanted to ask if you ever felt something like an imposter syndrome relating to your works? you're one of the authors that i look up to no matter what fandom you write and i often use your fics as an inspiration for my own (i really like your style!), and i just recently started posting my own writing online and it's been really stressful because i keep thinking how bad it is compared to other people's art (especially considering that english isn't my first language). maybe you've gone through something similar?

again, so sorry if this is weird, please feel free to ignore me if i made you uncomfortable!

trust me when i say this is something pretty much every creator i know or admire has dealt with. like not just fic authors—you can go read like, sylvia plath's journals and see it there. i'm actually taking my first fiction writing class this semester and any of my friends could tell you for the last two months since i registered i've been running around freaking out going "oh my god but what if i'm a BAD WRITER???" lol.

it's very much just part of the creative process at points that you struggle with this kind of thing, at least in my experience. especially on the internet it's really tough not to play the comparison game and doubt your own work. no matter what we do as writers or artists or other kinds of creators, what we put down on paper is never going to be as good as it was in our heads and we're always going to be keyed towards seeing the flaws because we made it! we know it better than anyone else! we know how we struggled and what didn't turn out like we intended! but it's important to keep in mind that your readers don't know that and are approaching your work from a different perspective. there's always at least one person out there who will enjoy what you're writing, so don't stop!

there's a tumblr post i actually read to my fiction class this week because we were discussing (you guessed it!) exactly this kind of thing. i'll link it but it says "why you should write horribly: you'll never write anything if you don't." that's what i always tell myself when i'm having a down day. writing is a skill that can be learned and honed. pretty much nobody is perfect or even good right off the bat and everyone learns at different rates. just keep writing! practice really does make perfect, and reading (especially reading things and considering what you like about them, what works and what doesn't, what makes it good) will help a ton as well. just keep going!! that's how you get better.

[thekimspoblog]

I THREW ⭐ THE FUCKING STAR FISH ⭐ IN THE OCEAN! ⭐

I made a one-time $80 donation to ANERA. That's going to have to be enough.

Look, I realize I am not in any position to po'mouth. Any claims that my household is hanging on to the middle-class by its fingernails, could easily be refuted by saying my family should just be more frugal with its expenses. But the reality is I don't have a lot of power to fix the problems in my own county, let alone stop a genocide practically on the other side of the globe.

I have an ageing mother who can't save up for retirement because Wallstreet and my dad both fucked her in '08.

I have a law degree I'm working towards, which I'd very much like to avoid taking out student loans for.

Chronic health problems and medical debt.

I give cash to any homeless people I cross when I'm downtown.

I attend protests when I can.

I call and write my representatives about Gaza and other issues, but most of that falls on deaf ears.

I contribute to Planned Parenthood.

I donate and participate in charities against homelessness.

I donate to the DNC because I don't want things to get worse.

I've commissioned various artists who have rattled their tin cups in my face, many of which never delivered what they promised and I never heard from them again.

I boycott MOST large corporations, even when there's no specific boycott taking place.

You can argue my grocery budget is too high, but you wanna guess why it's so high? Because veganism didn't work for me, and this is what free-range meat costs.

Could I be doing more? Sure! I could shoot myself in the head so people more deserving than me could have my organs. But I'm drawing the line somewhere!

I guess I'm just writing this post to say, there are always going to be people trying to guilt trip you for your brand of progressivism being bougie. Fascists are starting fires left and right, and if you aren't giving away every drop of your own water to extinguish the flames, there's going to be some bleeding heart telling you you're basically Hitler. It's not that the sentiment of "could you be doing more?" is technically wrong even. But it would also be nice if Tumblr considered that shaming people can only get you so far. Closing your eyes and plugging your ears is "callous" but it's also necessary to stay sane.

Gaza is an issue I care about, but it's not the center of my activism. If that means I'm complacent just because I feel my time and energy is better spent on abortion rights in my own country, I guess I'm just going to have to live with that. If I had donated earlier, perhaps people would be alive today who are not. If I had donated more, perhaps I could save more. Considering I have no income right now, $80 is the ceiling on how much I'm going to try to buy my way into heaven on this issue, and you all are just going to have to be okay with that.

[fozmeadows]

race & culture in fandom

For the past decade, English language fanwriting culture post the days of LiveJournal and Strikethrough has been hugely shaped by a handful of megafandoms that exploded across AO3 and tumblr – I’m talking Supernatural, Teen Wolf, Dr Who, the MCU, Harry Potter, Star Wars, BBC Sherlock – which have all been overwhelmingly white. I don’t mean in terms of the fans themselves, although whiteness also figures prominently in said fandoms: I mean that the source materials themselves feature very few POC, and the ones who are there tended to be done dirty by the creators.

Periodically, this has led POC in fandom to point out, extremely reasonably, that even where non-white characters do get central roles in various media properties, they’re often overlooked by fandom at large, such that the popular focus stays primarily on the white characters. Sometimes this happened (it was argued) because the POC characters were secondary to begin with and as such attracted less fan devotion (although this has never stopped fandoms from picking a random white gremlin from the background cast and elevating them to the status of Fave); at other times, however, there has been a clear trend of sidelining POC leads in favour of white alternatives (as per Finn, Poe and Rose Tico being edged out in Star Wars shipping by Hux, Kylo and Rey). I mention this, not to demonize individuals whose preferred ships happen to involve white characters, but to point out the collective impact these trends can have on POC in fandom spaces: it’s not bad to ship what you ship, but that doesn’t mean there’s no utility in analysing what’s popular and why through a racial lens.

All this being so, it feels increasingly salient that fanwriting culture as exists right now developed under the influence and in the shadow of these white-dominated fandoms – specifically, the taboo against criticizing or critiquing fics for any reason. Certainly, there’s a hell of a lot of value to Don’t Like, Don’t Read as a general policy, especially when it comes to the darker, kinkier side of ficwriting, and whether the context is professional or recreational, offering someone direct, unsolicited feedback on their writing style is a dick move. But on the flipside, the anti-criticism culture in fanwriting has consistently worked against fans of colour who speak out about racist tropes, fan ignorance and hurtful portrayals of living cultures. Voicing anything negative about works created for free is seen as violating a core rule of ficwriting culture – but as that culture has been foundationally shaped by white fandoms, white characters and, overwhelmingly, white ideas about what’s allowed and what isn’t, we ought to consider that all critical contexts are not created equal.

Right now, the rise of C-drama (and K-drama, and J-drama) fandoms is seeing a surge of white creators – myself included – writing fics for fandoms in which no white people exist, and where the cultural context which informs the canon is different to western norms. Which isn’t to say that no popular fandoms focused on POC have existed before now – K-pop RPF and anime fandoms, for example, have been big for a while. But with the success of The Untamed, more western fans are investing in stories whose plots, references, characterization and settings are so fundamentally rooted in real Chinese history and living Chinese culture that it’s not really possible to write around it. And yet, inevitably, too many in fandom are trying to do just that, treating respect for Chinese culture or an attempt to understand it as optional extras – because surely, fandom shouldn’t feel like work. If you’re writing something for free, on your own time, for your own pleasure, why should anyone else get to demand that you research the subject matter first?

Because it matters, is the short answer. Because race and culture are not made-up things like lightsabers and werewolves that you can alter, mock or misunderstand without the risk of hurting or marginalizing actual real people – and because, quite frankly, we already know that fandom is capable of drawing lines in the sand where it chooses. When Brony culture first reared its head (hah), the online fandom for My Little Pony – which, like the other fandoms we’re discussing here, is overwhelmingly female – was initially welcoming. It felt like progress, that so many straight men could identify with such a feminine show; a potential sign that maybe, we were finally leaving the era of mainstream hypermasculine fandom bullshit behind, at least in this one arena. And then, in pretty much the blink of an eye, things got overwhelmingly bad. Artists drawing hardcorn porn didn’t tag their works as adult, leading to those images flooding the public search results for a children’s show. Women were edged out of their own spaces. Bronies got aggressive, posting harsh, ugly criticism of artists whose gijinka interpretations of the Mane Six as humans were deemed insufficiently fuckable.

The resulting fandom conflict was deeply unpleasant, but in the end, the verdict was laid down loud and clear: if you cannot comport yourself like a decent fucking person – if your base mode of engagement within a fandom is to coopt it from the original audience and declare it newly cool only because you’re into it now; if you do not, at the very least, attempt to understand and respect the original context so as to engage appropriately (in this case, by acknowledging that the media you’re consuming was foundational to many women who were there before you and is still consumed by minors, and tagging your goddamn porn) – then the rest of fandom will treat you like a social biohazard, and rightly so.

Here’s the thing, fellow white people: when it comes to C-drama fandoms and other non-white, non-western properties? We are the Bronies.

Not, I hasten to add, in terms of toxic fuckery – though if we don’t get our collective shit together, I’m not taking that darkest timeline off the table. What I mean is that, by virtue of the whiteminding which, both consciously and unconsciously, has shaped current fan culture, particularly in terms of ficwriting conventions, we’re collectively acting as though we’re the primary audience for narratives that weren’t actually made with us in mind, being hostile dicks to Chinese and Chinese diaspora fans when they take the time to point out what we’re getting wrong. We’re bristling because we’ve conceived of ficwriting as a place wherein No Criticism Occurs without questioning how this culture, while valuable in some respects, also serves to uphold, excuse and perpetuate microaggresions and other forms of racism, lashing out or falling back on passive aggression when POC, quite understandably, talk about how they’re sick and tired of our bullshit.

An analogy: one of the most helpful and important tags on AO3 is the one for homophobia, not just because it allows readers to brace for or opt out of reading content they might find distressing, but because it lets the reader know that the writer knows what homophobia is, and is employing it deliberately. When this concept is tagged, I – like many others – often feel more able to read about it than I do when it crops up in untagged works of commercial fiction, film or TV, because I don’t have to worry that the author thinks what they’re depicting is okay. I can say definitively, “yes, the author knows this is messed up, but has elected to tell a messed up story, a fact that will be obvious to anyone who reads this,” instead of worrying that someone will see a fucked up story blind and think “oh, I guess that’s fine.” The contextual framing matters, is the point – which is why it’s so jarring and unpleasant on those rare occasions when I do stumble on a fic whose author has legitimately mistaken homophobic microaggressions for cute banter. This is why, in a ficwriting culture that otherwise aggressively dislikes criticism, the request to tag for a certain thing – while still sometimes fraught – is generally permitted: it helps everyone to have a good time and to curate their fan experience appropriately.

But when white and/or western fans fail to educate ourselves about race, culture and the history of other countries and proceed to deploy that ignorance in our writing, we’re not tagging for racism as a thing we’ve explored deliberately; we’re just being ignorant at best and hateful at worst, which means fans of colour don’t know to avoid or brace for the content of those works until they get hit in the face with microaggresions and/or outright racism. Instead, the burden is placed on them to navigate a minefield not of their creation: which fans can be trusted to write respectfully? Who, if they make an error, will listen and apologise if the error is explained? Who, if lived experience, personal translations or cultural insights are shared, can be counted on to acknowledge those contributions rather than taking sole credit? Too often, fans of colour are being made to feel like guests in their own house, while white fans act like a tone-policing HOA.

Point being: fandom and ficwriting cultures as they currently exist badly need to confront the implicit acceptance of racism and cultural bias that underlies a lot of community rules about engagement and criticism, and that needs to start with white and western fans. We don’t want to be the new Bronies, guys. We need to do better.  

[buckyownsmylife]

I've Told You Now - Lee Bodecker smut

The one where Lee seduced his sister's babysitter.

Warnings: smut, dubcon, age gap, innocence kink, dirty talk, loss of virginity, blood

Word count: 1.7k

A/N: This one is a part of my kinktober celebrations. My original intention for this October was to work exclusively around prompts that my wonderful friend @darkficsyouneveraskedfor created for her challenge and dedicate each story to a different friend. My new plan became then 31 days of different kinks, which expanded on a poly relationship with Stucky, as you might know by now. However, some of the stories I started were already truly loved by me, and so I kept on writing them. It worked well because as it turns out, I am fortunate enough to have more than 31 friends on Tumblr, so here is the story I wrote for @slothspaghettiwrites! You were the biggest reason I fell for Lee and it was only appropriate I wrote you this! I only hope it doesn't disappoint! Special thanks to @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog who helped me believe this was good enough to be posted! @sweeterthanthis also has a big hand at this!

Y/N’s P.O.V.

I was finishing packing up the toys in the living room when I heard the door slam, startling me into dropping the box of legos on the ground. Looking at the clock, I considered the time before looking back at the hall again. When no one appears from the hallway, I get confused. If the Hendersons hadn’t come home earlier than they intended, who else could it be?

“Waiting for me, bunny?” I immediately straightened out at the sight of Sheriff Bodecker, trying to resist the urge not to flush and keep eye contact, but ultimately failing to do so. I hadn’t seen him since the night he offered to give me a ride home and I ended up with his cock in my throat, his cum in my mouth.

“I-I didn’t even know you were coming.” Silence followed my confession as he slowly approached, eyes never leaving my body while I tried to keep myself up. He’d always had this effect on me. I remembered being a young girl and Sheriff Bodecker being the crush I knew was too old to be mine, the guy I’d never have even in a million years, but that didn’t stop me from daydreaming about him.

If I thought that maybe having him would help this infatuation disappear, it’d become clear by now that it wouldn’t be the case at all.

“And here I was, thinking you wanted me just as much as I wanted you.” The Sheriff tsked, and the sound went straight to my already dampened underwear. I couldn’t process his words very well, given how close he was and how loud my own heartbeat was ringing in my ears. Did he mean to say that he actually really wanted me?

“If that was really the case,” he taunted, circling me like I was some sort of prey. “You’d always be expecting me, wouldn’t you? But it’s alright, honey. You know why?” When I shook my head, he answered his own question, a single finger running down my jaw to guide me to look him in the eye. “Because I think you were expecting me. You’re always expecting me, looking for me wherever you go, just like I do. And there’s an easy way to prove my theory.”

Before I could question it, his arms embraced me from behind, hands slowly running down my stomach until they reached the edge of my skirt. I started sweating in anticipation. I knew what he would find.

“Let me check.” His fingers went over the fabric first, and he chuckled when he noticed how wet it was. “Would you look at that?” I was already trembling when he pulled my panties to the side and ran that same digit over my lower lips, just lightly grazing them. “Soaked already.”

Although I couldn’t see it, the humming sound he emitted after taking his fingers from under my dress didn’t leave me any doubt about what he did with the moisture he collected. Just the thought of him enjoying my taste that much had me weak in the knees, and I tried to keep myself up by reaching for a chair nearby.

Lee’s P.O.V.

I chuckled to myself at how sensitive she was, barely able to keep up with the little I’d done so far. Then again, it was clear I had a particularly strong effect on her. That had been obvious for a while, ever since she started working for my sister, probably - around the same age her womanly features began to stand out.

She seemed unable to look me directly in the eyes, always averting her gaze and biting her lower lip when I decided to stop around here for a coffee or check in on the little rugrat. I began doing this a lot more often after she was hired, but neither her nor my sister seemed to connect the dots.

Her innocence, her beauty just left me so fucking hard. I was hard right then, and I wanted her to know it. So I pressed my body against her back, lightly grinding my member against the curve of her ass.

“I suppose you’re finished for the day,” I speculated, knowing once the kid was out all she had to do was wait for my sister and her husband to arrive. “Guess I can help you unwind…”

She gasped when she felt my hardness, making me chuckle. “Your sister and her husband should be back soon…” She tried to reason, but I wasn’t having any of it.

“We’ll be quiet anyway. Can’t risk waking up the kid.” I gripped her wrist and pulled her on the direction of the guest bedroom, now fully unable to control myself. I was so close to having what I had wanted for so long.

She looked unsure of herself as I closed the door behind us, and I raised an eyebrow in a questioning look. “What’s wrong?” She shifted her weight from one foot to another, fingers playing with the hem of her skirt.

“I-I don’t know about this…” Chuckling, I approached her to cradle her face between my hands and deposit a kiss on those sweet lips.

“Don’t you trust me, pretty girl?” I had caught her now, we both knew it. She’d never risk disappointing or offending me, so when her mouth opened to explain herself and I raised an eyebrow in warning, it was only a matter of seconds until she closed it altogether and nodded, her eyes dropping to her feet.

“Yes, I do.” My smirk was full of victory, and I could taste it in my lips now. It was as sweet as the nectar between her legs I’d only had a taste of.

“There you go.” Approaching her once more, I settled my hands on her hips before leaning to kiss her shoulder. “Besides…” I continued, already bunching up her dress to get rid of it as quickly as possible. “You obviously need me to take care of you and this little wet hole.”

She bucked when my fingers rubbed her this time, dress already forgotten on the floor as I slowly shoved down the fabric of her underwear to join it. Once she was completely naked, I ran my digits over her cunt, verifying that her wetness was already so overwhelming that it was threatening to drip from her.

“So sweet.” I hummed once I wrapped my lips around those digits, tasting her on my tongue again. Yes, I was already obsessed. I think anyone who had the chance to try her nectar would understand my situation - but no one ever would.

She was mine now, and I would never let her go.

“C’mon, bunny.” Patting her ass, I directed her to the bed, chuckling at how embarrassed she seemed, being this exposed to my hungry gaze. “Be a good girl and spread your legs. Be my little angel, won’t you?”

I wished I could have done this somewhere more private - my own house, instead of my sister’s. But I just couldn’t wait anymore. My cock twitched inside my pants. I felt like I was drunk on this, drunk on her.

“C’mon, honey!” I repeated, lightly slapping the outside of her thigh. “I wanna fuck you. And I know you want to be mine, pretty girl. You can’t hide it from me.”

When she finally relented and slowly parted her beautiful legs for me, I nearly melted at the sight. Driven by my desire, I unbuckled my belt and worked to whip my cock out as quickly as possible, smirking at the wide, innocent eyes that settled on my member as I fisted it in preparation.

“Doesn’t it look good?” I teased, climbing on the bed to take my spot between her legs, rubbing the head of my dick against her slit. “I’m gonna have you taste it next time. But for now…”

Resting my forehead against hers, I slowly started to penetrate her tight pussy, slipping only the head at first, even though I was aching to fuck her throughly.

“This is gonna hurt a little,” I warned, not able to stop mid-way to let her adjust but keeping my invasion of her maidenhood slow until I had bottomed out inside of her. “Sh…” I tried to calm her, gently wiping away the few tears running down her soft cheeks. “I know it hurts, bunny. But you can take it, can’t you?”

She managed to nod despite her whimpers, and I brushed her tears away as I warned her, “I’m gonna make you feel so good, honey.”

It took a little while, but at last, she opened her eyes and I waited until she was able to focus them on me again. “You look so pretty, bunny…” I whispered, kissing her while I finally started to move inside of her, stopping only to moan out loud at her overwhelming tightness.

“I’m gonna train you until all you can think about is my cock,” I warned her, slowly pulling out until only the head of my cock was keeping her open.

“I can’t wait any longer.” Slamming my dick all the way in, I felt her nails running down my back, leaving trails of blood behind - trails I wouldn’t mind wearing under my shirt, sting as they might.

“I promise you, honey…” I panted, sweat already dripping from my forehead onto her pretty face. “You’re gonna miss me when I’m not inside of you.”

I kissed her cheek, rubbing my nose against it as she held me tightly against her. “I know you don’t want any of those boys you used to go to school with touching what I’ve already taken.”

She nodded quickly, my pretty little honey. Yes, she was mine already and she knew it. “It’s alright, pretty girl…” I soothed her as she started to whine, her cunt clenching deliciously around me. “It’s alright, cum with me…”

She closed her eyes when she met bliss, but I kept mine wide open so I wouldn’t miss her perfect expression of pleasure. It was almost enough to keep me hard, but I wasn’t as young as I once was.

I never pulled out of her tight heaven, keeping her body snuggled against me. I was happy that I decided to be patient, if it meant I now got to have her like this.

“I hope you know that you’re mine now, bunny.”

[gale-gentlepenguin]

ML Fic: Soulmate Survey Part 38

Sorry for the delay. Real life gets out of hand. But here it is! The antepenultimate chapter.

Shout out to @asongeverlasting for beta reading for me and making sure I actually got this out.

Check her writing out on AO3 as Ramblingwren

(Master post)

(Read the fic in a more condensed on Ao3)

(The latest chapter will be up on there once this reaches over 500 notes on tumblr)

Hope you all enjoy

_____________________________________________________________

“I shouldn’t have let her go out there.”

Fu watched the school nurse, Angela, fret as she paced back and forth.

“I understand your concern, but I believe that it will all be alright. Ladybug and Chat Noir haven’t failed in handling an akuma yet,” he explained. “The girl will be okay.”

The nurse stopped pacing.

“I appreciate your optimism but… I am really not used to this,” She said as she gestured to the air.

Fu blinked at the statement.

“Oh?”

“This! This whole thing! Super villains that appear whenever someone gets sad, teenagers with superpowers! This is all new to me! I just moved to Paris a month ago from the countryside. All I wanted was to further my education and get work in the medical field. It… It boggles my mind that everyone in this city is so okay with all of this! Even my new boyfriend Curtis is able to shrug off an akuma attack like a sudden drizzle. This isn’t normal!”

The guardian could tell the young woman was distressed, and he couldn’t blame her. In a way, he envied her. This was all foreign for her, but to him, this was his entire life.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to blow up like that. I've had a lot to deal with, and this whole situation is just so…”

Fu moved to her and helped her sit down.

“It’s alright, this is by no means a good situation. Your concerns are very understandable. I can tell that deep down that your frustration and fear come from compassion and empathy. You will make a wonderful doctor one day.”

She took a deep breath.

“Thank you. You have no idea how much I really needed to hear that today.”

“How about I teach you a medication technique that will help you calm down?”

“Meditation? I'm not really one for that kind of stuff.”

“If one wants to be a doctor, being able to calm down and handle an emergency situation is a must.”

The school nurse agreed that he had a good point, and that this may help get her mind off of things.

“Okay, I guess I'll give it a shot.”

Fu smiled.

“Good. Let us start simple. Close your eyes and put your hands together.”

Angela felt the action was a bit odd but complied.

“Now, take a deep breath. Count to 5 in your head and then breathe out.”

She took her breath and followed the order.

“Whenever you feel a thought come to your head, simply picture yourself putting it out of your mind and into a bucket.”

She tried her best to comply.

As she did this, Fu moved behind her and quickly pinched a nerve on her neck, causing the young woman to seize up for a moment before losing consciousness.

“That will help her relax.”

He carefully moved her to the cot and laid a sheet over her like a blanket.

Once it was clear that she was asleep, a turtle kwami flew out of hiding.

“So, what do we do now, Master?”

Fu took a moment to consider.

His plan was already in motion. Ladybug and Chat Noir had plenty of allies to help fight the akuma. All that needed to be done was to sit down and wait.

But as he thought about it more, he couldn’t help but think that he should go in personally. It was what he'd initially planned to do with akuma, after all. Listening to this young woman’s fears made him really see how his inaction has led to such fear and uncertainty.

For once, it was time for him to go on the offensive.

“Now we head out and find this akuma.”

“Master, you already sent out three miraculous. Let the other heroes handle this,” Wayzz insisted.

“The people of Paris should not have to become used to this. I have been far too lax with this situation. Right now, Ladybug and Chat Noir are facing their most dangerous akuma yet. For decades I have always remained passive in order to avoid making another mistake, but I have already made so many with my inaction. It's time I stop letting my actions be dictated by fear.”

“But Master, you can’t transform! Your body is too old to handle it!”

“Fear not, Wayzz. I have been exercising and restoring my vitality with the techniques of the guardians. By my estimation, I should be able to maintain the transformation without too much issue for 10 minutes,” Fu assured.

“That is not a lot of time, Master!” Wayzz pointed out.

“True, but it is better than nothing. We will head out and wait for the moment we need it. Be ready, Wayzz.”

The old guardian started heading to the door.

“But Master, what if you get captured? What if the akuma does succeed and you are unable to step in?”

Fu paused at the door.

“I know you are concerned for me. I appreciate your care. But I need to go out there. I have lived a long life, Wayzz, far longer than most humans. One day I may not be here to be the guardian.”

Wayzz felt a pang of sorrow hearing his Master talk about how he would no longer be around.

“But that’s okay. I know that when that time comes… I have two young heroes that will be ready to stand up and fight. The best thing an old man like me can do is pave the road for them.” The guardian said with certainty. He went to open the door.

“Fu…”

The old man stopped. Turning around, he saw the turtle kwami he had known for most of his life smile at him.

“I know you think of yourself as a failure of a guardian… but Su Han and the others were wrong. You are a great one. You are the most caring guardian that has ever held the title. And I will be by your side to the end.”

The old man felt his eyes well up at the sweet comment.

“Then let’s go, Partner.”

___________________________________________________________________________

The dragon heroine grabbed the confused snake hero and moved him to the closest room before closing the door.

“Okay we should be safe here,” she said as she looked over to her comrade. It was clear that Viperion was still very confused. It did not help that both his and her miraculous were beeping. They didn't have much time.

“Thanks… ummm,” Viperion started as he tried to rack his brain for a name. Part of him felt like he should know her. But his mind is blank.

“Ryuuko. You can call me Ryuuko. And you are Viperion.”

“Okay… weird name for me, but I guess it works.”

Ryuuko realized that the bubble Viperion had been put in wasn’t just to keep him frozen in place. One of the side effects must have been leaving him without any memory of who he was. Had her partner been aware of that risk when he took the bubble for her? She couldn’t know for sure. But right now, she needed to focus on the task at hand. Shehad to take charge since her partner was out of sorts.

“Okay, 'll try to explain this as quickly as possible.”

“Your real name is Luka. But when you are in your hero form, you go by Viperion.”

“Hero form...”

He looked down.

“Well, that does explain the costumes. I thought it was some sort of weird costume party.”

Ryuuko decided to ignore that.

“Okay, so I'm a hero. And you're one too?”

“Yes. We are both heroes picked by Ladybug to help her fight villains. Right now, we're fighting a bunch of them, and you got your memory wiped by one of their attacks. That’s why you are confused. Any questions?”

The boy took a moment to look himself over and then look at her. This was a lot of information to take in. Ryuuko was half expecting him to call her crazy. Which, given how bizarre the circumstances were, she wouldn’t blame him.

“Okay, I think if it was anyone else telling me this, I would have called it a load of bull. But… I don’t know why but I feel like I can trust you. You sound sincere,” Viperion responded.

“Okay great, now let's…”

“I still have a few questions.”

Ryuuko sighs.

“Look, we really don’t have much time. We need to hurry and get out there to help…”

And just before she finished the statement, both of their transformations wore off. Revealing their civilian forms.

“Oh no.” Kagami muttered in horror.

“What happened? Where am I… What am I?” The snake kwami questioned as he looked at himself.

“It appears that Sass was also impacted by the amnesia.” The dragon kwami that popped out of her necklace commented.

Luka stared wide eyed at the creature.

“Are you a snake?”

“A snake? I suppose?”

“A snake with limbs? That is very rock and roll.”

The two fistbumped. Thankfully they seemed to get along.

Longg looked at them.

“This is quite a predicament.”

“We need to hurry back in. Longg! Bring the….”

“Hold on a moment. Both Sass and I will not be able to do that yet.”

Kagami stopped.

“How come?”

“We need to refuel. The energy of transforming AND using our unique powers drains a lot out of us. We need some food to continue.”

“Food… Okay.”

The snake Kwami grabbed his stomach.

“I find myself rather famished,” he commented.

Luka looked at him.

“Let me see if I can help you out.”

The teen took off the backpack he was wearing to go through it. Thankfully there was a bag lunch in there. For some reason he felt that was important. But decided that if it could help the little guy out, he was sure it wouldn’t be a big deal.

He opened the bag lunch and pulled out a bag of apple slices. Opening it to grab a piece.

“I know snakes usually are carnivores, but how about some fruit?”

“Ooo! It smells divine!”

Luka handed the floating kwami a piece of the apple.

He takes a bite.

“Oh! It's delicious! Juicy and sweet!”

The snake quickly devours the apple piece.

As that happens, Kagami looked through her bag.

“I don’t have fruit but I do have some onigiri. It was my afternoon snack… but since this is a dire situation.”

“Rice? Yes please!” Longg exclaimed as he dive bombed right into the delicious rice ball.

“It’s Umeboshi, it’s not to everyone’s taste but It is one of my favorites.”

“It’s the most delicious thing I have ever eaten. The sour plum really brings a new dimension of flavor.”

Kagami smiled a bit at her kwami companion, happy that she could help.

The two Kwami finished their food and were ready for action.

“Okay, Sass. You need to help Luka transform.”

“Sass? Is that my name?” the snake inquired.

“So, he helps me transform into Viperman?”

“Viperion, and yes,” Kagami responded.

“All you need to do is say. Sass, Scales Slither. And to activate your special power just pull your bracelet back and say second chance. Then pull it back when you want to use it. But be sure not to use it right away,” Longg instructed.

“Okay seems easy enough. Are you okay with this?” Luka asked as he turned his attention to his snake pal.

“The floating horn snake seems fine with it so I say let’s give it a try”

Longg decided for the sake of his friendship with Sass to ignore the comment.

“Alright! Let's do this!” Kagami exclaimed as she prepared to transform.

“One last question.”

Kagami was starting to get antsy. She wanted to be back out there fighting. But she held back her annoyance, considering how he sacrificed his memories for her.

“Make it quick, we need to hurry.”

Luka scratches the back of his head.

“Are we a couple?”

If Kagami was drinking water she would have done a massive spit take. Her cheeks turned red.

“What?!”

“You know… together? You seem to know a lot about me, and I just feel this connection... like I can trust you even though I don’t remember anything. I don’t know how or why, but I feel like you matter to me.”

Kagami’s eyes went wide at the comment. It felt surprisingly bold of the musician to say. She had to admit that the statement made her heart skip a beat.

“No, we had just recently become friends.” Kagami responded.

“Oh…” Luka was saddened by the response.

“But, I have thought about the possibility it could be more than that one day," Kagami continued. "But that is something to discuss when you have your memory back. Maybe.”

The fencer felt her mind scream at her.

‘WHY DID YOU SAY THAT! Well, at least he won't remember.’

Luka smiled at that.

“Well, that must mean I must be a good guy, if I could have such a great friend like you.”

The teen prepared himself.

“Alright then! Sass! Scales Slither.”

The musician shifted into his hero form.

“Let’s go save the day.”

Kagami looked at her hero partner and smiled.

“Longg, Bring the storm.

______________________________________________________________________

“Well, that might be a problem.”

Chat Noir and Ladybug looked to see a stone giant guarding the front door of the classroom. The two had hidden just out of the goliath’s view.

“Any ideas on how to take down Mount Akuma?” Chat Noir questioned.

Ladybug looked at the giant from their hiding spot and began formulating a plan.

“Stoneheart grows bigger when he gets mad. These akuma aren’t really able to express their emotions. That means we don’t need to worry about him getting bigger. We just need to find a way to incapacitate him.”

“We could ask Mayura,” Chat Noir pointed out.

“We could ask… wait WHA…”

Chat Noir covered his partner’s mouth and ducked down.

“Shhhh! She’s right there,” Chat Noir hushed.

Ladybug removed the cat’s hand from her mouth and looked from the spot to see that her partner was right. Mayura was in the building!

“She actually showed up?” Oh, this is a lot more serious than we thought. Hawkmoth is really playing it serious with this one.”

“To the butterfly man’s credit, he really has been throwing out some tough ones.”

“I will not give our worst villain credit for anything except this headache,” Ladybug retorted with annoyance.

“So, what do we do? Mayura is in the building and she is talking with the giant.”

Ladybug felt like the situation couldn’t get worse.

“Not so fast, Feather Freak!”

Ladybug recognized that voice.

“Chloé?”

Chat Noir and Ladybug glanced to see a familiar blonde strutting down the hallway. But their expressions of shock shifted to bewilderment when they noticed what she was wearing.

“So are you and that purple fashion blunder here? Or is it just you? I am guessing it's just you. Your boss doesn’t really like to show his face unless he thinks he is sure to win. No wonder Ladybug always kicks his…” The bee themed heroine confidently quipped.

“Queen Bee. Now that is a surprise. I thought Ladybug was done giving you a miraculous.” The peacock villainess commented. She had no interest in dealing with the bee heroine at this time.

“Well, you would be surprised by a lot of things. So how about we settle this. My fist really misses your face.”

Mayura rolled her eyes.

“Fortunately for you, I don’t have the time to deal with you. Stoneheart, I am sure Masquerade would love for you to take care of this pesky bee.”

“Oh don’t think you can walk away! You and that purple cockroach are the same. Both cowards that can’t even face children.” She jeered as she walked forward.

The stone giant moved forward, allowing Mayura to walk to the door and enter.

“Too scared to face me! Typical. I'll beat your pet rock as a warm up and then your butt will meet my foot!” Queen Bee exclaimed with confidence. “Because I am a real heroine!”

Queen Bee got into a stance and prepared to trade blows with the colossus of rock.

Chat Noir looked to Ladybug.

“Did you give her a miraculous?” He whispered in surprise.

“I don’t have any additional miraculous. I thought she had been captured with the rest of the class.”

“Wait… if it wasn’t you… you don’t think…”

“Either Master Fu is in the building and saw how dire the situation was or Chloé snuck away and had a Queen Bee costume stowed away in her locker.”

The two look at each other and immediately come to the same conclusion.

“We need to save her before she gets crushed!”

______________________________________________________________________

Mayura walked into the classroom.

She managed to keep a straight face, but internally she had a lot going through her mind.

What was once a standard classroom now looked like an elaborate throne room. The amazing curtains, the high ceilings. The steps leading up to an elaborate throne. The portraits of Masquerade really brought together the utter decadence and vanity of the akuma persona. It reminds Mayura of Gabriel’s obsession with Emilie in the worst way possible.

Despite finding the décor off-putting, she had to admit it was impressive how Masquerade had been able to change the room into something completely unrecognizable. A testament to her vanity.

She took a moment to see what akuma servants she still had in the room. The Gamer, Reflekta with around 12 copies, Princess Fragrance, Robostus, Zombizou and Horificator. While the white masks obscured their expressions, it was clear that all of them were watching her. It greatly unnerved her.

She kept these thoughts to herself as the masked akuma that was running the school took notice of her.

“Mayura. I've been expecting you.”

Mayura looked up to see Masquerade sitting on the throne.

“Please, come in.”

She approached confidently. Though in the back of her mind something seemed off.

Masquerade stood up from the throne and walked down the steps, a smile of certainty on her face.

“Masquerade. Your Sentimonster gave me the basics of your plan. Securing the school as your base of operations was a good first step. Your plan of creating a video to lower the spirits of those in Paris was also a nice touch,” Mayura praised.

“But of course! My plan is flawless,” Masquerade boasted. “Not even Ladybug and Chat Noir will be able to stop me.”

“Getting ahead of yourself aren’t you?” Mayura cut her ego trip.

Masquerade’s mood soured as her smile faltered.

“What do you mean by that?”

“You have yet to face the two heroes. Not to mention there's a pesky bee flying around.”

“A bee?” Masquerade was very confused by the comment.

“Yes, Chloé Bourgeois, or Queen Bee, to be precise. Seems that Ladybug and Chat Noir went and got back up."

“It doesn’t matter if they have one additional hero or three. This plan won't fail.”

‘Something isn’t right here. I need to leave now!’ Mayura’s mind screamed.

She wasn’t sure why, but something felt incredibly off.

“Speaking of heroes, your plan never really specified how you will deal with them. Care to elaborate?”

Masquerade’s smile grew more sinister.

“I am glad you asked. After Simularé relayed to me that you were here. I finally figured out the perfect way of dealing with those arrogant heroes,” the masked woman stated with certainty, moving forward.

She now stood only a few feet from the peacock villainess.

“Wait a moment, something is wrong here,” Mayura commented as she tried to focus. She couldn’t ignore the warnings in her head.

“What do you mean?” The mask akuma looked with confusion at the blue villainess.

Mayura looked around. Frantically trying to find something but it was fruitless. This distress caused Masquerade to smile.

“I can't sense it,” Mayura spoke with slight worry.

“Sense what?” Masquerade inquired further.

“Where is your amok? It should be on your person but I can't sense it.”

“Is that a problem?”

“Yes. If you don’t have the amok in your possession then that sentimonster will go out of control!” Mayura explained.

“Can’t you just rip the amok out?”

“If it's nearby and I sense it, yes. But I can’t do that if it’s out of my range.”

“So you’re saying you have no power over me right now.” A devilish grin appeared on Masquerade’s face.

“No, I am saying I don’t have any power over the senti…”

Mayura felt a chill as she realized that the masquerade in front of her was not an akumatized Lila.

“Horrificator, block the door,” the Faux Masquerade commanded.

The pink and purple monster quickly moved to block the door with her large form.

The controlled akuma started circling around her as Simularé undid the illusion and morphed into its true specter form, Simularé.

“You ungrateful little monster. You think your master will be okay with you attacking one of the ones that gave her power?”

“My master doesn’t care about you or Hawkmoth. You are a means to an end. And she gave me special permission to take your miraculous from you.”

“Well if your master isn’t here, then no one is jamming the signal. I can contact Hawkmoth and put this little coup to an end.”

Simularé shifted into Lady Wifi.

“I have access to every power my master does. You are trapped with no options.” The sentimonster mocked.

Mayura looked around as she was circled by the controlled akuma. She needed to get out of there.

She felt a pain rush to her head.

‘F*** not now’ She mentally cursed.

The odds were indeed not in her favor.

______________________________________________________________________________

Stoneheart began charging at the bee themed heroine, and just as Queen Bee was about to move, a yo-yo wrapped around her waist and pulled her away from the monster.

The stone giant had expected his charge to make contact but forced himself to stop when he noticed the bee was gone.

“Sorry tiny, but I’m your playmate now,” called a cat-themed hero.

The mindless akuma didn’t visibly react to the change in foe and simply charged at the cat hero.

Queen Bee found herself near Ladybug.

“Chloé! What are you doing?!”

“Uh… Saving the day? I got the jewelry box that you sent out because you needed my help.”

“Jewelry box… wait a minute that means. You are wearing a miraculous.”

“Yep! Don’t worry LB, I will show you that I am worthy of being Queen Bee. And not to boast, but I totally saved someone. But right now, we gotta go beat that ugly pile of rubble.”

Ladybug looked at Chloé for a moment. With the situation as hectic as it was, Queen Bee has shown some competence when there is real danger. Ladybug knew that right now, all hands that could help would be appreciated, and Queen Bee’s appearance could mean that Fu may be closer than she expected. So maybe there were more reinforcements. So if this was the case. She would trust Fu’s judgement.

“Alright, just be ready to return the bee after all of this is over.”

“Right, right, but just know I will probably change your mind about that after this is over!” the bee exclaimed confidently as she jumped back into the fray.

Ladybug shook her head. Whether she was Queen Bee or Chloé, she was still a handful.

“Are you finished gossiping? Because I could REALLY use a hand!” Chat Noir shouted as he held his staff up to hold back the rock monster’s boulder of a fist.

Queen Bee and Ladybug jumped into view and noticed the situation.

“Don’t worry you stray cat, The Queen Bee will put that rock in his place. Ve…”

Ladybug covered Queen Bee’s mouth before she could.

“Hold it. We might need your power for later.”

“I think it would be useful now!” Chat Noir shouted as he struggled to hold the weight of the giant’s rocky hand.

“Okay if my powers are a no no right now, what is the plan?”

Ladybug looked around. She found her attention drawn to a fire extinguisher, Queen Bee, a rubber band, and a discarded backpack.

“Okay, I have a plan.”

______________________________________________________________________

Gabriel had made a decision.

He hurried out of the lair in his civilian form. He was going to head to the school. Now he would just need to get his chauffeur and go…

Gabriel’s eyes went wide as he saw his son’s bodyguard and chauffeur fall to the floor at the steps of the main entrance, a white mask adorning his face that he was desperately trying to get off.

“What is the meaning of this?” Gabriel asked aloud in shock and anger.

He looked to see the mask akuma he created standing at the door.

“Well, if it isn’t Gabriel Agreste. Fashion mogul, and master manipulator.”

Gabriel’s visible anger faded as he stared at the akuma.

“Lila, is that you?”

“Oh quite astute! An amazing deduction. Was it that observational skill that made you the fashion success you are now?” the akumatized Lila inquired. “Though I go by Masquerade now.”

Gabriel knew very well the girl’s powers. He was the one that gave it to her. She was trying to antagonize him, get him angry. But that would not work.

“Well Masquerade, what brings you to my home at this time?” Gabriel asked calmly. Doing his best to keep his tone and mannerisms calm.

“Oh, I was just in the neighborhood, finding more people to join my little army and I notice my charm glowing as I was getting near.”

Gabriel’s eyes went wide as he realized something. The charm bracelet was configured to locate anyone that has ever been akumatized. That included him. His ploy to ward suspicion off of himself was now biting him in the butt. And of course, Lila was likely holding a grudge with how he pushed her with his words about his son and his classmate.

“My bodyguard was akumatized. What of it?”

The silent action figure enthusiast stopped resisting and his body began growing. Gabriel noticed the man was transforming into the gorilla akuma. Gorizilla! And he rushed up the steps as the akuma moved and pounded his chest.

“Gorizilla, go gather up anyone who has been akumatized that you know of. I will handle Mr. Agreste myself.”

The giant akuma nodded at its master and headed off, leaving the agreste mansion with a giant hole that was once the front of the mansion.

“Handle me? And what do you plan to do?”

Masquerade’s necklace began to glow.

“Oh! Well that is very interesting,” Masquerade mused aloud as she learned from the glowing charm.

“What do you mean, interesting?” Gabriel asked. He knew that the charm had the bonus effect of pointing out the emotional weak points of those that had been akumatized. But he had PRETENDED to be angry and wasn’t actually emotional when the akuma took over. Did the charm still impact him the same way it did everyone else?

Masquerade started walking up the steps.

“You blame yourself for your wife’s passing.”

The statement was a blade pointed right at his throat. But Gabriel refused to react. He would not let himself be taken advantage of by his own akuma. He has been on the receiving end one too many times and he would be damned if he let that psychopath have control of him.

Masquerade saw that Gabriel was not reacting to the statement.

“I have never seen a man more miserable and pathetic,” Masquerade said. Her words sounded genuine and cutting.

Gabriel tried to turn around and walk away. But Masquerade jumped high with her superhuman agility and landed right in front of him, continuing her tearing down of his emotional state.

“All of this wealth and yet you are obsessed with what you don’t have. You are so blinded by the grief of losing your wife that everything else in your life may as well not exist. You locked yourself away, desperately trying to find something, anything that would bring her back. But now you are finding that color is starting to return in your life. You feel guilt over hiding the truth from your son, you loathe the attraction that you have been developing for another woman. You hate that you can’t dedicate every second to your lost wife and any speck of joy you feel without her here feels like treason since she is not here with you. You are a man so blind with his obsession that you fail to see the world doesn’t revolve around you. It's disgusting.”

“You know nothing of my life,” Gabriel dismissed.

But Masquerade knew he would say that. She only smiled. The truth was right in front of her. And she was ready to bring it home.

“You are actually terrified of facing her again.”

That shook Gabriel.

“What?”

“You are afraid of seeing her again. Whether it’s a year or 10 years, you feel that even if you could bring her back, she would be here and realize how much of a shell you had become without her. You are afraid that your obsession with her will be the very thing that drives her away once you see her again.”

“That isn’t true.”

“Then why haven’t you brought her back yet? Don’t you love her?”

Gabriel felt like his heart was being repeatedly punched.

“How dare you question my love for my wife!”

“Then why isn’t she here? If you loved her she wouldn’t have been taken from you and Adrien. But you were far too pathetic to do it. You failed her, and you are still failing her. You will never be with her again, and deep down. You know it to be true,” Masquerade answered coldly.

Those words were enough to get him down. That is what finally did him in.

Gabriel fell to his knees.

“No…”

Gabriel had broken. Masquerade knew she had him.

He was emotionally devastated, to the point where couldn’t even react to the mask coming his way.

____________________________________________________________

Well now things are now hitting their highest points of drama!

Will Ladybug and other heroes be able to stand up to Masquerade?

Will Mayura fall to Simularé's double cross?

Will I EVER update in time?

Tell me your thoughts on the chapter. Your support keeps it alive

[jacqcrisis]

Hello! Sorry, yet another person here to absolutely fawn over your fallout au, which I finally just finished. I've really enjoyed reading through all of the tumblr posts all morning, I had a thousand qs I'd ask about the characters and story if I could but just… WHY IS NOBODY TALKING ABOUT PAT AND ACHILLES. How do they find out. Is Hermes just like "yup, guess we should go back to see Achilles" one day and Patroclus is like "Hold up what the fuck did you just say"?

Anyway I appreciate this story ended a while ago and you're probably out of charmes inspiration these days so don't worry if you have nothing to say, I am going to go and stare into space and think about Charon and Hermes smooching instead of doing my day job thanks

A) thank you so much for all your kind words, including your comments. I'm just very bad at responding to those but I am grateful and extremely happy you enjoyed my stuff!

And b) while I am burned out of Hades content, you did unfortunately activate my trap card that is talking about sad old ghouls and centuries long pining. So I'm using this as an excuse to detail how Achilles and Patroclus finally meet each other once again.

So, after everything in fallout au, Zagreus starts what I like to call the White Boy Soul Search™. He runs away from Asphodel and his father several times in order to try and find out more about himself and who made him (Persephone) all while the dynamic duo of Theseus and Asterius are tasked with bringing him back (which they succeed several times cause, listen, Zag did beat the mutant in a 1v1 but they are still an ex-Brotherhood Paladin and an ex-Unity Nightkin tag-teaming dragging an android man back to daddy).

On these travels, Zag meets up with Hermes quite often, as Hermes is secretly checking up on him under the guise of 'haha wow we crossed travels again, cuz! Crazy, amiright haha'. At one point early on, Zag laments how his power supply seems to run out so quick and he just can’t understand why but if he could fix that, then he could continue his investigation longer while leaving the guards tailing him in the dust. Hermes, upon hearing this, is all too eager to drag him off to go see the friendly neighborhood android doctor, Pat, who welcomes them in with less than enthusiastic arms. 

Now, Zag has, in the past, read most if not all of Achilles' journals he keeps around in his private rooms, and is well versed in his personal history and his long lost love he still dreams of and sees false images of in the crowds at the arena. So when Patrolcus introduces himself with that long dead lover's name, while also being a ghoul, Zag starts to get curious. While Hermes is off getting bullied by goats and a rooster, Zag starts asking questions as Pat is looking him over: what'd you do before the war, where were you stationed, what have you been doing since, anyone you miss from that time?

Pat is dodging all of these as he has always done, but just as he's wondering if he should force a sleep cycle on this new synth, Zag just comes out and asks if he knew anyone named Achilles. That's a name Pat hasn't heard in decades, one even he doesn't dare to speak aloud and, as you would expect, he drops whatever he's holding. He assumes he misheard, but when Zagreus clarifies that he knows a ghoul named Achilles who writes often of a Patroclus he knew before the bombs dropped, Pat forcibly enters him into sleep mode.

When Zag awakens, his power supply problem has been fixed and, in payment, Patrolcus demands he leave and never speak about this 'person' again as it is impossible his Achilles survived the bombs, suffered from ghoulification, and lived for as long as Pat has. By his words, it is cruel to string a old man along like that with the hope such a person could be alive only to dash it once its revealed he's speaking of the wrong person. Zag tries to argue but Pat is adamant and sends him and Hermes on their way, considering the topic null and void.

So Zag goes back to town, heads directly to Achilles, and tells him about Patroclus, expecting at least one of them to be happy to hear about the other. Achilles indeed is, in disbelief and elated beyond measure Patroclus is alive but that happiness fades. There’s a sadness to him as Zag describes Pat’s condition and reaction and, when he suggests Achilles go and see him, Achilles refuses, stating it's for the best he stays away.

It takes a while for either of them to budge. Achilles is wracked with guilt over having abandoned Pat during what could have been their final moments, and the idea of seeing him again, and seeing what would be justified anger and hatred at his actions, would be too much to bear. Patroclus, on the other hand, refuses to believe this Achilles is the one he knew, that upon seeing this person, that being faced with one final confirmation that his Achilles is dead, it’ll become all too real for his steadily declining grip on reality. They’ve both spent nearly two centuries mourning someone and neither wants to have that festered, scar reopened, to go through it all again.

Eventually, Zagreus appeals to a sense of catharsis in Achilles, that perhaps apologizing, even if it's to a closed door, will bring him some peace. So he agrees to go without Zagreus as this is something he needs to do alone, and after a boat ride and a long lonely walk with his thoughts, practicing an apology over and over again, he finds himself at the quaint isolated farm. At the sight of a man across the fields tending to his crops and his animals, Achilles nearly turns right back around, centuries of guilt and grief and hope hitting him like a freight train.

He doesn’t get to as some of the goats spot him, bleating and tottering over to the frozen ghoul in their curiosity, alerting their master to the visitor’s presence. Patroclus moves closer, not recognizing the person standing among the tall grass, about halfway to his homestead from the fence, with his hand on the pistol at his hip. He calls out as he continues to step closer, tells the ghoul he doesn’t take in wanderers and the stranger will need to move on now if he wants to avoid the deathclaw’s sunset hunting hours.

They've both changed physically, recognizable features sloughed away as their skin and soft cartilage dried and fell off throughout the years but one thing that hasn’t is the way Achilles says Patroclus’ name, choked in disbelief and a reverence that carries unaltered by the breeze. It’s Patroclus who stops in his slow approach, hand falling from the pistol and the breath knocked out of him. Achilles takes a cautious step forward, saying something but Patroclus doesn’t hear it, falling to his knees as he begins laughing.

He’s certain he’s finally lost it, that the radiation burning away at his brain has finally done its job, that this is some hallucination, and as Achilles comes to his side, touches him cautiously, his laughter turns to weeping. He falls into Achilles’ embrace, assured by the physicality of it that this is real. That’s he’s real, that he’s alive, oh God, he’s alive and has been just a few days' travel away for years...

It’s happiness. It’s guilt. It’s mourning once again, but this time not someone lost, instead years, decades, centuries wasted alone when it could have been together.

But, as a similarly crying Achilles promises, that doesn’t matter. There’s explaining to be done, apologizing to be had but they’re together now. They have time now and he’s not going anywhere this time if Patroclus doesn’t want him to.