#did you know that in his universe not only were utterances of any sort of deviation beyond the norm considered to be punishable by severe

[frittercrittern]

I am feeling entirely normal and nothing is going on at ALL in my brain about this triangle and his horrible awful dimension he is from

[hiraethwrote]

NEVER GOT YOUR NAME

✧ pairing: satoru gojo x f!reader ✧ summary: based of this drabble — you're ex is borderline harassing you. he just will not leave you alone, and in a desperate attempt to get him off your back, you tell a little white lie. in panic, you grab the first stranger to walk by and introduce him as your date ✧ cw: fluff, light profanity, one little comment about previous sexual relationship, arguing, word vomit ngl (i'm describing too much sorry) pining, reader is smaller than satoru, mild use of petnames, no use of y/n ✧ word count: 3.5k

He was a menace. A true and genuine menace, who seemed to have some sort of natural ability in finding you, no matter where you were.

Maybe getting a restraining order was the next step — there was no way he managed to just randomly run into at the rate that he was, whether that was in the grocery store, the gas station or just on the street. No, he had to be stalking you, right? The universe wouldn’t be so cruel to give this guy, your god awful ex, the privilege of fulfilling his desires of bumping into you.

Yet, here you stood in front of him again.

His eyebrows pinched together, an innocent little smirk tilting his mouth crooked, feeding you the same lines he always did.

“Great seeing you again,” like you hadn’t ran into him not even three days ago. “You look fantastic, as always. How’ve you been, sweets?” Urgh, one of the many nicknames he had named you — your stomach turning at the sound of it. You were scared you might actually hurl.

“Stop calling me that,” you demanded, keeping your voice low. He always managed to bring your anger right to the surface, to which you had to use all your energy not to blow up in his face. It had already happened once, about two months after you broke up with him. You had raised your voice at him and lashed out, causing some random bystander to interfere — who had then proceed to take his side. Unbelievable, as if he wasn’t the one who had taken you for granted for the entirety of your relationship.

“Sorry, old habits die hard, you know.” So full of shit. You’d been broken up for months, there shouldn’t have been any problem dropping the pet names. He only did it as a tactic to try and manipulate you into his arms again. And to think you willingly used to sleep with this guy. “Since we’re both here, why don’t we grab lunch together?”

“Oh, please,” you breathed, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“It’ll be good for us, sweets-“ don’t punch him, don’t punch him, don’t punch him. “Maybe we can talk some things-“

“I’m actually here on a date!”

Finally he shut up, only for his face to twist into an expression of pure disgust. It was clear the idea had never even crossed his mind — and you would have been able to enjoy his agony had it not been for the fact that it was a complete and utter lie, thrown out in a moment of desperation.

What were you to do when your ex decided to wait around for your date to arrive, and he never showed? You could already picture his face — the patronising pity he would pay you, while you’d be able to read his satisfaction behind his eyes, as he would use it against you for months to come.

You had only bought yourself some time and you needed to think fast.

“Who? I mean, do I know them? Have you met them before?” He stuttered out questions of bewilderment as your limbs were growing ever more frantic at your side.

And then the bell above the entrance of the cafe chimed a sweet tune, eyes snapping towards the sound. “Ah, there he is!” Your arms acted on their own accord, hands grabbing onto the bicep of the person who had been so unfortunate to walk in right as you were spiralling.

Swallowing the worst of your anxiety, you dared turn your head towards the random person, hoping to god he wasn’t ugly (because that would just be yet another thing your ex would badger you about).

Due to his height, you had to angle your head more than expected to meet his piercing eyes that were ogling you with complete confusion — but you only had time to take in his appearance for a slit second before you shot him a pleading look, betting everything on the off chance that he would be able to read the situation — but also finding it in himself to play along to your little performance.

Your fingers squeezed lightly at his arm, bringing him back to reality. Then it only took him a second to make up his mind, the white haired stranger wiping off his confusion and confidently throwing his muscular arm across your shoulders. Once he turned to face your ex, he had painted his features with the smuggest grin one could imagine, revealing a charming dimple.

He tilted forward slightly, which only brought more attention to how much taller he was than your ex, and shot his hand out between them. “Satoru, pleasure to meet you.” His tone matched his expression, not a single speckle of insecurity to pick up on anywhere. Your ex stared at his hand with disdain before begrudgingly accepting the gesture and introducing himself in return. “Hm, don’t think she’s mentioned you.”

Your lips parted in surprise, not expecting this Satoru to take his role so seriously — and then put on an award winning show right off the bat, nonetheless. Was it finally your turn to be blessed by the universe with some good karma in the shape of the most perfect stranger to deal with the situation?

Turning to take a quick glance at your ex, you had to press your lips together to choke back the cackle that threatened to escape. His expression was priceless, Satoru’s innocent little comment rolling of his tongue so effortlessly, causing a slight twitch in your ex’s eye.

“Well, I’m her-“ then he cleared his throat, struggling to finish his sentence. You weren’t surprised his title died in his throat, having never really accepted the fact that the relationship with over.

“He’s my ex,” you said, finding some courage to casually place your hand on Satoru’s chest, hoping and begging you weren’t making him uncomfortable by crossing a line.

“Aaah, your ex,” this Satoru trialed off with an awkward raise of the eyebrows before he turned to look at you again. That’s when you finally got to take a proper look at his breathtaking eyes, the whole ocean trapped in his irises. But you couldn’t let yourself fall completely mesmerised — you shook off the affect his piercing eyes seemed to have. “Sorry I’m running a little late. I stopped by the bookstore down the street to see if they had that book you recommended on our first date.” Then he served you what seemed like a genuine smile.

Stop, not the time to admire the handsome stranger!

You bashfully tilted your head forward while the sweetest chuckle traveled past your lips, also having to sell the performance. “How sweet of you to remember.”

“Of course!” He smoothly removed his arm from your shoulder to slide it along your back, moving it in comforting circles — but he never let it travel too far.

Your ex had his glare glued to Satoru’s gesture, unable to look away no matter how badly he wanted to.

“Never got around to that one,” your ex said with an awkward, forced laugh in an attempt to shift the attention back to him. He probably thought he was being charming (he always thought he was), but his little comment only gave you another reminder to why you had broken up with him — he never cared about your interests, as he couldn’t be bothered to pick up your favourite book, no matter how many times you had asked him if he could at least give it a try.

“Huh, how unfortunate.” Again, your ex couldn’t conceal the little reaction Satoru caused in his face by his incredibly taunting tone.

He cleared his throat again, and you could see how he was grasping at straws trying to redeem himself. “So, what do you have planned?” It wasn’t too obvious, but you could tell — you could tell he asked as a challenge, certain your “date” wouldn’t be able to suffice an answer that would leave him satisfied.

You opened your mouth to answer, but only managed to take a breath before Satoru had already started his lengthy explanation. “Well, first I’m taking her out for lunch, obviously,” he mused, taking a quick glance around your surroundings. “And I didn’t want to ruin the surprise, but I got us entrance tickets for the botanical garden uptown. She told me she’s been wanting to go for months.” Then he turned to look at you.

He said it with such a genuine smile painting the corner of his lips, both of you letting the eye contact linger for a second. For once you were thankful for your ex, because if it wasn’t for him drawing Satoru’s alluring eyes away, you were scared you might just have found yourself swooning a little.

“Oh, yeah, of course,” your ex chuckled in response with a nonchalant eye roll, “she might have mentioned it once or twice.”

“Hm,” Satoru huffed, sucking in his cheeks and eyeing him up and down

Pathetic was really the only word that Satoru would use to best describe the individual in front of him. He just seemed so puny, reeking of insecurity, only amplified by how he had so easily went along with the lie of a botanical garden — something Satoru had just pulled from the top of his head.

A huge, nervous lump traveled down his throat as Satoru held his gaze hostage, his dominant behaviour easily smothering any sprinkle of confidence your ex might have possessed at one point — all by just being there. And it was just so satisfying that it was finally your turn to watch your no-good ex being the one who was tormented for once.

“Well-“ his voice cracked the slightest, Satoru pursing his lips in amusement at the little slip, “I have to get going now. I’ll see you around,” stumbling over his words as his face shyly grew redder. Then he just turned on his heel and left, leaving no time for you to even say goodbye.

Satoru instantly felt your body relax at his side with a deep exhale, the hand that had shyly rested on his chest with modesty falling the second the door was shut — and once you took a step in front of him, he became hyper aware of how close to him you had been the entire time. With the sudden absence of your body next to his, he realised how perfectly you had just seemed to fit next to him. Nearly as if you had been made simply to be by his side.

And stood in front of him, he finally got the chance to take a look at you. A proper look at you, and damn, you were beautiful. Your eyes were kind, which amazed him considering the unpleasant encounter that had just taken place.

The chuckle you’d faked along with his act was still resting on your lips, but now it definitely seemed more real — warm.

“Thank you so much!” You gushed, “I am so sorry I just dragged you into that! I was panicking.”

Satoru watched intently as you spoke, unable to peer his eyes off you. His attention held on to every syllable, entirely captivated by your person, eyes roaming your face to take in every little detail there was to observe.

“Shit,” you suddenly interrupted yourself, taking a glance at your watch.

“I never caught-“

“I really wish I could stay and treat you for lunch, as thanks,” you cut him off, seemingly not even acknowledging how he had tried to speak, rummaging through your bag frantically before pulling out your wallet, “but because of him I’m running late. So, here, take this,” you chuckled lightly while stuffing his hands full of cash. “I really appreciate what you did!” Satoru was barely able to decode what you were saying as it all came tumbling out in one breath.

Continuing to spew a string of thank you’s, you quickly backed out of the cafe, his eyes following you as you jogged lightly down the street and out of sight.

Satoru was left utterly baffled, simply ogling the vacated spot you had occupied seconds ago.

Of all the times Satoru would end up tongue tied, this was the worst possible moment — he was cursing himself relentlessly for not being quick enough to demand a name, and now you were just gone, some random person he’d been lucky enough to cross paths with for a moment.

He knew he should just get on with his day — use the money you had gifted him and buy himself that sweet treat he wanted and forget about you. But he couldn’t — he wouldn't.

Had you just decided to walk into a random cafe you had just so happened to walk past that particular day?

Satoru certainly thought so. Because when he couldn’t rid you from his mind, he had gone back to that very same cafe, childlike optimism filling his body while he lingered the area, waiting for your figure to show.

It never did.

His patience quickly ran out, growing more restless every day that passed where he didn’t see you stroll down the street to return to the cafe to grab the lunch you never got to have.

He couldn’t let it rest in the hands of the universe any longer. After days of casually stalking the area, he decided to strut through the entrance of the building to simply ask.

“And how can I help you today, sir?” The sweet girl behind the counter mused, the perfect customer service smile greeting him as he leaned his entire weight in the edge of the counter.

“Hi there, remember me?”

He saw her shoulders rise slightly as she took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, I don’t,” yet another polite smile.

“I was in here about three weeks ago. Was with this really pretty girl-“

“Sir,” she gently interrupted him, still the same smile on her face, “we see hundred of faces every day. We have no way of remembering them all.”

His head fell back dramatically, huffing in disappointment as his fingers flexed against the marble top. “Thanks, anyway,” he mumbled quietly, shuffling over to a secluded table in the corner, sulking in his lonesome while his eyes were locked on the door, still filled with a light glimmer of hope that you would show.

It became routine — sitting in the same corner in the back, ordering the same thing while he waited for three hours everyday before he eventually had to leave, with a heavy heart, to attend to his duties.

And if the nice barista didn’t recognise him before, she definitely did now, walking over to his table and serving him his plate with a sympathetic smile. “No show today either?” The most theatrical sigh would leave his lips every time she asked the question, sad puppy dog eyes on display as he shook his head. “Sorry, buddy.”

“It’s getting a little sad, don’t you think?” Her coworker would comment once she rejoined her behind the counter, both of them keeping an eye on him with pinched eyebrows.

“I don’t know,” she breathed, crossing her arms over her chest. “It’s a little romantic.”

Then they would share a look, some judgement passing between their eyes before they burst into innocent laughter, wondering how long they would get to witness his yearning before he eventually gave up his dreams of finding you again.

For days, Satoru’s head would snap towards the door every time the tiny bell rang, witnessing all sorts of people come to enjoy a little treat but not a single one of them fit your description.

Maybe this was just too hopeless? Tokyo was the most populated city in the world — bumping into the same person twice was like finding a needle in a high stack. Scratch that, it was like finding a rice grain in the great Sahara desert. But he kept praying, hoping the universe would bless him with his desire.

It was a perfectly okay day.

The temperature was nice — higher than expected for a mid-fall day — but the weather wasn’t much to brag about. For the past week it had been raining. Not pouring, but a light, constant drizzle that tapped quietly against the cafe window as Satoru stared mindlessly out at the scenery of concrete buildings and trees changing colour.

There was only a single string of hope that kept him sitting in that chair day after day, but it was destined to break soon. His head didn’t even turn towards the door anymore when that little bell rang with the familiar chime. He simply rested his chin in the palm of his hand, giving all the responsibility back to the universe.

The familiar barista came to his table, picking up the plate littered with only crumps and not one, but two, empty coffee mugs (that had been more sugar than coffee).

“Same time tomorrow?” She asked sweetly, wiping the table clean while balancing the dishes in her other hand.

He instantly wiped away his disappointment, plastering on the most convincing smile he could muster as he turned to face her. “I don’t think so.” She stared wide eyed at him, mouth parted into a shy ‘o’, a little disappointed to see him finally give up, having started to root for him a long time ago. “You’ve had exceptional service,” he beamed from ear to ear as he got up from his chair, her eyes never leaving him as he stood to tower over her.

He gave her one last tight lipped smile as he passed her. “Goodbye,” she stuttered quietly, keeping her pitying gaze on him as he headed for the exit.

The bell rang one last time, and Satoru was a little relieved he wouldn’t have to hear the obnoxiously high-pitching ding again — his relief short lasted as he crashed into a figure smaller than himself the second he was about to exit.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t watching- well, if it isn’t my knight in shining armour!”

What were the chances?

After all those days — waiting, staring, stuffing his face with sweets — and to think he was just about to give up. Maybe the universe had finally decided to take pity on him, wanting to reward his patience.

You looked as breathtaking as the day you had desperately latched onto his arm — maybe even better. You seemed lighter almost, as if someone had lifted off pounds from your shoulders. Same kind eyes, but a sense of peace glossing over them instead of frustration.

“It’s you,” it fell from his lips involuntary.

“In the flesh,” you chuckled. The sweet, vibrating sound faded into a clear of the throat when Satoru only continued to ogle you without a word. “Oh, sorry, you were leaving-“ you stuttered, stepping aside to let him pass. You were left confused when he didn’t walk past you, but rather kept his glare on you.

“I never got your name.”

“Sorry?” You asked, his voice too quiet to pick up on.

The same smug grin you’d seen on his face so many weeks ago greeted you, swallowing the nervous lump in your throat. “I never got your name,” more assertive now that he had increased his volume.

“Oh,” you said shyly, your fingers tightening around the strap of your bag. Eyeing his attractive smile, you let your name roll off your tongue before mirroring his expression of happiness.

If it was even possible, his smile stretched even further across his face, the dimples you’d noticed last time appearing on each side of his face. “Nice to finally meet you. Properly this time.”

His natural charm just steamed off him in abundance, something you had only appreciated in glimpses in your stressed haze. “You too,” you smiled.

“I haven’t seen you here since that day.”

“Well, that’s because I haven’t been here since then,” you chucked nervously, glancing towards the register when you felt some interrogating eyes on you — both of the girls behind the counter wringing their heads away from you and Satoru. “My ex has had a tendency to linger in areas we ‘bump’ into each other,” you raise your fingers to gesture the quotation marks, “but I actually think meeting you might have scared him off for good. Haven’t seen him since, so thank you again.”

“Truly my pleasure,” he straightened his posture, his height growing even more impressive. He spoke your name, and despite not really knowing you, he said it with a tenderness your ex always lacked. “I was wondering,” he took a step closer, his eyes flittering between yours, “I owe you a trip to a botanical garden, don’t you think?”

Your breath instantly hitched in your throat, heat spreading modestly across your face.

Of course the handsome stranger who had come to your rescue in a moment of genuine despair had crossed your mind from time to time since then — you had just come to terms with the fact you would never be as lucky to cross paths with the polite stranger again. And the part of you that had been plagued with embarrassment was okay with that.

But the excitement in his eyes as he waited for you to answer slowly erased the uncomfortable feeling.

“Sure, I’d like that.”

tags (taglist form) @sad-darksoul ﾉ @05-simply-06-simping ﾉ @geniejunn ﾉ @alixris ﾉ @shadava

@gdamnackerman ﾉ @sunfl0werlevi ﾉ @gojonegs ﾉ @m0nsterzl0ve

@cupidxml ﾉ @lashaemorow ﾉ @cirquedelooney ﾉ @itsinherited

@elenor222 ﾉ @mima0127 ﾉ @lem-hhn ﾉ @mechanicalmari

a/n it's finally here and i think i'm happy with it... not entirely sure. think i've seen myself blind on this fic. however, thank you so much for the reception on the little drabble that took me literally ten minutes to write, hope this lives up to your expectations <3 likes, comments and reblogs is much appreciated

©hiraethwrote 2024 . all rights reserved. reposting, translating and otherwise plagarisim is prohibited

[spamgyu]

Biggest Regret // Mingyu Oneshot

DESCRIPTION: Mingyu had many regrets in life, he had made many mistakes... ruining the best thing to happen to him, since joining Seventeen, was his biggest one. PARING: Mingyu x Reader GENRE: Angst WARNING: Cheating

You knew there was someone else.

You could feel it.

He had pulled away – no longer swooping down to capture your lips in the middle of a sentence, he no longer texted you sweet words through out the day while he was overseas, his free time was no longer spent with you.

You could see it.

You watched as the eyes that once held the stars grow dim; he looked at you as if you were nothing but a stranger. He no longer looked at you with those soft eyes as you pretended to not feel his gaze; hell, he rarely looked over at you.

He was always far too preoccupied with his phone. Preoccupied with her.

You could smell it.

Her lingering scent of sweet vanilla hanging on to his clothes as he strolled into your apartment – it had completely masked your once favorite cologne of his. There hadn't been a day in the past four months that she didn't linger, and he didn't even bother hiding it.

As if you were too stupid to notice.

More importantly, you heard it.

The soft hum of his voice had gone; speaking to you as if you weren't the girl he had promised forever with. He no longer told you he loved you throughout the day unless you were the first one to utter those three words – and even then, he never did say all three of the words.

"You too."

He was stupid to think you didn't know but you were even stupider for sticking around this long.

You thought it was just a minor bump in the road, being blinded by the love you have for him. You chose to turn an eye on the infidelity you had caught on to immediately; wanting to give him the benefit of the doubt.

But as one month turned into four, your lack of reaction had given your boyfriend the confidence to keep the deceitful act going – almost as if he wanted to get caught.

Her presence was once something you only knew through his actions, but she had become quite bold just as him.

It was one of the quite rare occasions where he decided to spend his days off with you, inviting you over to his shared living space for dinner and a movie. You didn't know what it was, maybe it was the universe or your gut feeling, but something told you to go into his room while he was busy in the kitchen – using an excuse of wanting to borrow one of his hoodies.

That feeling was right.

You didn't need to go digging for any clues, it was right there in plain sight.

Sitting atop his desk was a stack of dainty gold bracelets.

You wore silver jewelry and haven't been at his place in nearly a month.

All sorts of scenarios played in your head as to how this had come to be, but one specific one fought its way to the top – the one where it required her to not only shed the jewelry she wore for the day, but her clothes as well.

You felt sick to your stomach at the thought of her taking space on the side of your bed; marking her territory.

You knew he was being unfaithful to you, but seeing the evidence of it was different – bringing a new sense of pain. This one was crippling, feeling your knees wanting to give out from under you as you tried to process the grief that you had been trying your best to push back over the past few months.

You had always told yourself that the second you physically saw evidence of her, you would walk away – the time had finally come. She had set up camp in the heart that you once resided in and by the looks of it, she wasn't planning on leaving.

Taking your bottom lip in-between your teeth to stop it from quivering, you reached for the clasp of the beaded Tiffany bracelet around your wrist – the one he had purchased for you when he had asked you to be officially his.

"The day these beads fall off, is the day I stop loving you." Mingyu laughed softly as he helped you put the silver jewelry on.

Both the beads and double linked chain it had been threaded through were sterling silver, there was no way they were coming off.

There hadn't been a day since receiving it that you did not wear it, and it still stayed intact; a stark contrast to the love he said he would have for you.

You walked over to the desk and placed the item he had used to profess his loyalty to you right next to hers; taking in a deep breathe to regain your composure before walking right back out to finally meet your inevitable fate.

You watched him silently one last time, taking in how beautifully he had grown in the four years you two had been together – right before you pulled the plug he had been too much of a coward to do himself.

"I'm tired." Your cold voice took not only him by surprise, but you as well.

Maybe you were an even better actor than you thought yourself to be.

Looking up from the meal he had just finished plating, Mingyu sent over a pout. "Dinner is ready, though."

You shook your head.

He thought you meant physically.

"No, Mingyu– I'm tired." You repeated. "I– let's end this. I thought I can handle dating you but– I can't take the busy schedule anymore. I need someone who I can see more than once every two weeks."

It was a shitty excuse, you both knew you could handle it perfectly well – you two have been separated for far longer when he would do his overseas tour.

But you couldn't bring yourself to confront him of the sin he had committed; not when you can't even bring yourself to accept it in the first place.

"He- hey." He rushed over to you, brows furrowed in confusion. "What– where is this coming from?"

In his defense, this did seem as if it was being sprung out of nowhere – there had been no signs of your uncertainty.

Not a single one.

Just before you had walked into his room, you two had been discussing the upcoming weekend trip you would be joining with his family. Going as far as discussing the plans you had made with his sister and mother while he and his father were golfing.

"I was going to do it after the trip." Another lie. "But– I can't do that to your family."

"Y/n." He scanned your face, trying to show any hints of a possible prank. "Come on."

But your eyes remained staring off behind him; focusing on the silver knob of the white cabinets. You couldn't look him in the eye as you began to tear down the only world you have known in the past four years.

Not when he should have been the one to end it months ago.

"I loved you." You continued.

"Loved?"

"Thank you for everything, Mingyu– I really did cherish my time with you."

"Baby," He tried to reach for your wrist but something else had caught his eye – or at least, the lack of it. "Where's–"

Bringing your arm back, behind yourself, you took a step back from him. "Don't make this harder than it needs to be."

"How can I when– when I don't even know where this is coming from?" Mingyu exasperated, hesitantly taking a step towards you.

"Goodbye, Mingyu."

"Stop calling me that!" He cried, closing his eyes – as if things would be any better if he did.

Swallowing the pain that had grown to the size of a golfball in your throat, you turned your back from him – heading to the couch where you had placed your purse.

"So that's just it?" He called out as you continued to prepare yourself from walking out of the love you could have sworn that would have lasted forever.

You remained silent until you reached the front door; ignoring his eyes that were practically burning a hole into your skin.

"Don't do this." You could hear the tears in his voice as you twisted the handle.

"I'm sorry." You whispered before quickly exiting the apartment – the tears you had done so well keeping in had now came rushing down.

By the time you had stepped foot in the elevator, your knees had giving out on you – using the railing to stop you from collapsing on to the floor as the sobs echoed throughout the walls of the confined space.

The end had come and it was far more painful than you had thought it would be.

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．

When you had walked out on him that spring night a year and a half ago, Mingyu felt nothing but lost – unable to fully comprehend as to why the relationship he had been in for the past four years had suddenly come to an end.

You had not once complained about his schedule since being together, it didn't make sense as to why it had been the reason you had used to walk away from him.

It wasn't until he had walked into his bedroom when it clicked – the silver bracelet he had asked about sitting right next to the the evidence of his crimes.

The crimes he had finally put an end to after being caught by his best friend just days ago – talking, yelling, some senses into him.

But it was far too late, and he knew what he had done was unforgivable; there was no use in running after you. Not when you knew about all that he had done.

He knew there were no words, no actions, no grand gesture he would have done that could win you back. And you deserved to walk away from the pain he had brought you, you deserved better.

You deserved someone who respected you.

There wasn't a single day he didn't beat himself up for what he had done to you, allowing for the constant nightmare to haunt his every actions.

Mingyu didn't care how much he was breaking as each day passed, he knew he deserved it – long as he knew you were okay. You deserved the happiness you were experiencing now; at least, the happiness he had seen through your social media posts.

He didn't dare to move on from you, subjecting himself to the sentencing that could have been avoided if he hadn't given in to his selfish needs. It was all his fault and he had no issues owning up to it; his contributions to all their new songs seemingly relating back to you.

His words that were once empty, relating to not a single pain his friend's experience, now carried the weight of his past. Mingyu didn't try to hide it either, being quite vocal of, his mistakes when asked about their songs – which he seemed to have been credited quite often than before.

Fiddling with the silver beads around his wrist as he focused on the journalist in front of him. Mingyu tried his best to gather the words in his head to answer the question asked.

"What's your biggest regret?"

Unlike other magazine spreads he had been featured in before, this one didn't purely focus on looks or a brand deal – no, this was was feature was in the intention of stripping away mask artists put on. It was the magazine's way of showing the people idolized by the public were human as well.

"We can skip the question." The young man chuckled nervously.

"No- no it's okay." Mingyu shook his head, shaking away the image of you in his head. "I– Hm... I think I've been in the industry long enough to talk about relationships, right? I– I was with this person for some quite some time, and I– I let my weaknesses get to me. I let it ruin the one thing, no– I let it ruin the person that loved me like I was their whole world. I took their trust and their love for me for granted. I think–"

He let out a pitiful laugh as he felt the tears well up – he shouldn't be the one crying. Not when he was the one that put himself in the situation he was in.

"I think," Mingyu's fingers reaching for the jewelry he had not taken off since that night he had discovered it sitting on his wooden desk – a habit he seemed to have developed when he felt that he needed to ground himself back on to earth. "I think I will forever have my regrets about this one mistake."

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(for some reason it's not allowing me to tag some who wanted to be added to the perm tag list ... cries... pls check ur settings so i can for future posts)

[glowinggator]

Prompt: Calling the Lackadaisy characters by their full name

A/N: University has been keeping me busy, and I've been in a bit of a writers block. So in the meantime, take this goofy little thing!

Includes: Rocky Rickaby/Reader Calvin "Freckle" McMurray/Reader Dorian "Zib" Zibowski/Reader Mordecai Heller/Reader Viktor Vasko/Reader Serafine Savoy/Reader Nicodeme "Nico" Savoy/Reader

Rocky Rickaby: 

Rocky's always pleased to hear his name fall from your lips… "Rocky Rickaby…" he loves to occupy your attention, and he's not above doing a silly trick here and there to get you to utter his name like that. But his given name? You can't even finish "Roark" before he's at your feet, begging for forgiveness. Queue the waterworks -- his muse, his winter sunshine, his summer breeze please, please forgive him. For he is naught but a mortal man, riddled with the propensity for mistakes, but is -- Hm?  The maple syrup is in the back of the pantry, yes. Yes, next to the peanut butter. -- is that not the natural state of such mortal endeavors? Surely, such a divine being must take pity on the folly of man!

He doesn't register that you were only playing with him. Or, maybe he's realized and is just committing to the bit. You'll never know. What you do know, however, is that you'll have him at your feet for the next hour or so. 

Calvin McMurray: 

Calvin, Cal, Freckle… Sweetheart, in private. McMurray, when you're teasing. Calvin really gets the gamut of names and nicknames when it comes to you. But when he hears his full name yelled out from the opposite end of the house, he's nothing if not panicked. The past two decades of Irish Catholicism really beats that into you. He rushes to your side, back straight, head down in silent apology for… whatever it is, that he did. 

"...Yes, dear?"

He has to bite his tongue a bit to not bring out any honorifics, but the message comes across just the same. There's only 2 times he uses "dear" as his go to-- 1.) In front of his mother, 2.) After he's done something he shouldn't. 

Decompresses instantaneously when you ask him to open the pickle jar. He exhales quietly, holding his hand out silently for the jar. His heart can't take this sort of thing. Don't do this to the poor man… too often. 

Dorian Zibowski:

Blinks owlishly when he hears his full name shouted out from across the house. If there's any way to sober Zib up… this is it. He's leaping to his feet in an instant, rushing to where you are… and slowing down when he's just out of sight. He smooths his fur and his clothes and takes a deep breath before waltzing calmly into your line of sight. Play it cool. 

"Funny way of pronouncing "Zibowski, doll. Need something?" 

He takes it in stride, but don't be fooled -- he's quaking in his boots, waiting for the other shoe to drop. He feels the weight lifted off his chest when you ask him to grab something from the top shelf, although you'd never know that. He does, however, press a lingering kiss to your temple after he passes the item off to you. Don't read into it too much. 

Mordecai Heller: 

He tears his eyes away from his book, glancing at you from over the rim of his teacup. "Yes?" 

He's truly unaffected. He's introduced by his first and last name all the time, and he was never scolded in such a manner as a child.  If you were looking for some outlandish reaction, all you've got is his quiet attention. And you might want to answer quickly -- he'd really like to finish this chapter tonight. This is quite a grueling read, you know. 

His true name, however, is a different story. But that's for entirely different reasons, and well, you wouldn't  know anything about that. Right? 

Viktor Vasko: 

Yet another one who is unaffected. He looms over you a bit -- which really, isn't unusual for him considering his stature -- humming questioningly.

He's a man of few words, and even fewer reactions. You've really gotta put some emotion in your voice if you want to get any sort of reaction out of him, and even then the most you're likely to get is a raised eyebrow… maybe a bit of a head tilt if you're lucky. And you can really only do this once -- he'll remember your little trick for next time. 

(If you really want to get a reaction out of him, use some sort of petname. He secretly finds them rather sweet, and the right one will force-reset his brain a bit the first few times you use it. )

Seraphine Savoy: 

Seraphine isn't unaffected by the use of her full name… rather, she revels in it. She's always enjoyed the flow of her name, but it always seems to fall from your lips like some goldly golden ichor. To call it heavenly would be a bit of a misnomer -- sinful, mayhaps? It's a difficult feeling to place, but she strides over to you confidently nonetheless. Her lips quirk up as she leans into your personal space.

"Yes, amou?"  

Nicodeme Savoy: 

Truthfully, he isn't the biggest fan of you calling him by his full name. Well, his full first name, anyways. Feels too stuffy, for his liking. But he takes it in stride, waltzing up to you lazily. He rests his arm on your shoulder and leans down to be eye-level with you, eyes half lidded with a grin. He throws your own full name right back at you teasingly. Need something?  Want him to grab something, or open a jar? Hm? 

His grin stretches a bit wider when you pout -- you really thought you'd get him this time, huh? He kisses you chastely, nipping at you softly in jest. Gotta try harder than that to shake him, bebe. 

[nariism]

the voice in my heart — i. sae

forced proximity + "oh no, the power went out, however will we stay warm?!" (/s)

synopsis. itoshi sae doesn't like how mushy you make him feel, but the warmth is nice. kinda.

wc. ~600

— for @saetoshi / @yoisagi my love 💗 | event masterlist ✉️

you didn't think it was possible, but somehow itoshi sae gets infinitely more irritable when he's cold.

he scowls more, hands permanently stuffed into his pockets, and sulks like there's no tomorrow. and he shivers, too. an embarrassing amount. (his pride is always severely injured when you ask him if he wants your help to warm up).

your grouchy roommate always found something to complain about when the weather dipped. whether it be the fact that his heater was always running, or that he has to scrape the ice off his windshield every morning, sae has never been able to see the beauty of winter.

"beauty?" he scoffed when you pointed that fact out one day. you were at the kitchen table and he was on the couch waking up from his midday nap—a typical sunday afternoon that he had long since added to his routine. "yeah, i'd rather admire it from inside. thanks."

"come on, don't be so pessimistic," you scolded, sauntering over to him to shove a pillow into his face. he knocked it away with a frown.

"i'm not pessimistic. just realistic. being cold sucks."

and that should have been the end of it. after that, you had stopped bothering him and purposefully trying to tease him with snide little comments about his disdain for the cold.

well. the universe has always had a funny way of fucking with him.

it's the coldest night of the season thus far. the snow storm raging outside has knocked out the power for the entire building and now the two of you are stuck pressed together under the warmth of your combined blankets.

"quit squirming around or i'll kick you out of my bed."

you make an undignified noise. "you wouldn't."

"i will if you don't stop that and go to sleep. i have to be up early tomorrow."

"this was your idea in the first place!"

sae had been the one to text you, after all. he hadn't even asked nicely, only sending you the word HELP in all capital letters as if he were going into cardiac arrest. you had rushed in to see what was wrong only to get dragged into his bed.

his greed for warmth was nothing new to you, of course, but he was careful to be gentle with you. to make sure he wasn't crushing you or making you uncomfortable. it was his way of being nice and somewhat apologetic that you were being treated as some sort of personal heater.

"i hate you," you tell him when he unceremoniously throws his leg over your entire body to keep you still.

"yeah, whatever. sleep before i kick you out."

"you're the one who asked me to share our blankets," you remind him again.

there's a long silence that follows that statement. it's so quiet that you assume he just ignored you and went to sleep without replying. but then he rolls over until his back is to you and he utters out, strained: "we don't speak of this, ever."

you raise a brow, shifting to face his back. "oh? are you embarrassed that i had to keep you warm?"

"i'm not embarrassed," he quickly corrects, even with the waver of his normally dead voice.

you reach around him, back of your hand resting on his cheek. you feel him tense up beside you in bed and you can't help but burst out laughing.

"your whole face is warm."

he groans, pulling the blankets closer to his side and up over his head so you can't observe him any closer. he's worried that if you did, you might have noticed how incredibly red he was growing. something so out of character would absolutely garner a new game for you and he would never hear the end of it.

for someone with an attitude problem about everything, he was surprisingly easy to shut down. maybe it was just you who had that talent, though.

itoshi sae doesn't like how mushy you make him feel, but the warmth is nice—

"i know you're trying to hide from me! if you just wanted to be held i'd be happy to help."

—kinda.

© ALABOADOA 2023 — please do not translate or post my works to other platforms.

[hanafubukki]

Hello I'm here to deliver angst :3

Imagine an alternate universe where Yuu is king Henrik's kid

They've been secretly dating knight of dawn for a while and even fantasized about eloping

When the war starts they get locked away in a tower like a prisoner for their safety, only knight of dawn and Henrik were allowed to enter

When the humans lose the war Henrik accepts defeat and offers his child as a war trophy to the general in exchange for being kept alive in prison

Yuu and knight of dawn are devastated by this but Yuu goes through with it for the sake of making the lives of the people that used to be part of their now conquered kingdom

Time passes by and Lilia is now in a poly relationship with knight and Yuu. Yuu had given birth to silver not too long ago

Yuu was collecting some berries while their husbands were home with silver. Just before they enter their cottage a group of Henrik loyalists attack them

Lilia and Dawn try to get to them but just before they could Yuu gets hit with a spell that transports them to the future

Cue the plot of twisted wonderland

Lilia and Dawn deeply cherish silver as he's the only remaining part of Yuu they have. They tried Searching, interrogating but no matter what they did no one uttered a peep about what spell Yuu was hit with and no amount of tracking spells could find them

Malleus was the first person to recognise Yuu as they were a parent he loved but wasn't allowed to be with publicly due to the senate push back

Hello Anonie 🌷🌺🌸

You know Anonie when I received this ask, I laughed because I was like “I won’t make Malleus and Lilia angst to cope I won’t make angst to cope.”

And then I received this ask as if it’s a sign and just ended up laughing. 😂

OT3 angst it is, except I’m feeling a bit rebellious and I want a happy ending so I’m going to give it to them to the best I can. 😌👏🙏

But also imagine being Henrik’s kid? Silver had a breakdown? Imagine your father being the one to cause so much grief and death? Yikes. 😮‍💨

Your father just gives you up for his own head argh. You can’t do anything because you’re royalty and you don’t want your people to suffer.

You willingly go to the fae side as a royal captive, leaving behind you lover and your people.

You expected to be treated terribly, but you’re not? You still get fae that looks down on you of course. But the fae royal treat you cordially enough. You even get your own guard, a well known one in fact, General Vanrouge.

He’s a surly one and one that makes sure to keep an eye on you for any suspicious actives…but he doesn’t treat you bad.

In fact, he’s rather nice to you in his own way. It’s kind of charming. Similar and yet different than your Knight of Dawn.

Eventually a sort of tie is formed between humans and fae per Levan’s and your cooperation.

And you suddenly find yourself…in a relationship with both Dawn and Lilia. Meleanor finds it hilarious and this is used as a way to ease relations between races. Let’s call it an arranged marriage of sorts 😂

You (royalty), Dawn (well known Knight), and Lilia (the General) would make for a great image of peace, wouldn’t you say?

You’re enjoying life. A beautiful baby, wonderful husbands, and funny in laws and their cute dragon kid.

Everything was fine, until it wasn’t.

You get attacked by loyalists. They asked you to be the figure head of the rebellion group and cut ties with the fae. Of course you didn’t, in the end you got hit with a mysterious spell.

You disappeared right in front of Dawn and Lilia’s eyes. No matter what they did, they couldn’t find you.

And this is where I’m going to twist your scenario Anonie. A plan is made. This is yet to be a world of peace. It will take awhile. So Dawn, Silver, and Malleus is put to sleep. Until peace is brought. So history won’t repeat itself as it did with you.

Lilia is awake, he’s takes the mantle of helping relations between countries with Levan. An ambassador of you will.

The first one to wake is Malleus like in canon.

Then you have Silver.

A couple years after, it’s Dawn.

Years pass, and most of them end up at NRC. Dawn is a sword instructor at RSA but also part of NRC as well. Easier way to spend time with family this way.

Then comes the day of Grim’s mayhem but the difference? Diasomnia was evacuated from the mirror chamber. They had to make sure Malleus and co were protected. They weren’t going to make the same mistakes.

So how do you meet Malleus and the others?

Well of course like in canon, Malleus realizes someone now lives at Ramshackle dorm.

You noticed glowing lights and they look and feel familiar. You run outside and is shocked to see Meleanor…no, it’s not her but Malleus. He’s all grown up.

Malleus recognized you right away. You both have an emotional reunion.

You were reunited with one of your boys again. 🥹💞

Soon after, another emotional reunion takes place with the rest.

———

Extra:

*Some time in the future*

You’re reading a history book for Trein’s class but half of what’s written…didn’t happen that way?

“This didn’t happen.”

Lilia, nonchalantly, “Don’t mind it. We had to change some things on how the war took place and ended.”

You couldn’t be happier, “Good, I hope that asshole of a father of mine died in misery and shame.”

———

[hantenguclonesimp-minuszoha]

Strange creatures... | Odd human...

Synopsis: The very first thing he wondered was why he wasn't burning under the sun. The second being why he wasn't in the Infinity Castle when he was mere moments ago. Why was he in a forest? The air smelled different and even this location's energy felt different... What was that giant creature? Why was the woman next to it not running away?

Warnings: N/A.

Content contains: Kimetsu no Yaiba + Steven Universe.

Upper Rank/Moon Four, Hantengu - Aizetsu.

Blue Diamond.

Blue Pearl.

Term meaning:

Minka -> traditional Japanese house.

Note: So, I've started with this little idea of mine. Been motivated but am currently keeping my mind off requests, which is also why they're closed! This is a 'start' to this post and just a little bit of fun really. Might write up the others, might not. Anyways, enjoy! + I apologise for shitty translation, Google translate is my only option since I'm a little lazy to look for more. I FOUND A BETTER TRANSLATOR (I HOPE IT'S BETTER)

This is not a guaranteed project.

I am by no means a Steven Universe fan, however, I have seen some clips of the show and the one that I chose was when Blue Diamond visited Earth to talk to Pink Diamond's shrine thingy.

Aizetsu looked around cautiously, trying to detect any sort of danger or enemies. However, he seemed to have found none. This is entire place was not... where he was from. His homeland. He's surprised to even call it that. It didn't feel like Japan and it didn't look like it either. There were no minkas and everything he saw, even felt was too advanced for him to comprehend. The air smelled different in a way he could not understand. It didn't smell like the fresh air he was used. It smelled... corrupted almost. He didn't know what it was but it made him uneasy. Aizetsu began to wander around a bit, trying to find out where exactly he is until he was stopped by a distant voice which he heard due to his sharp hearing.

"Oh, Pink..."

Instantly, Aizetsu turned to the direction of the voice, ears twitching as he picked up more of the voice he had heard. It was soft, feminine, compassionate almost—sorrowful like him. He didn't know how but he just felt something about this voice. Simply by what he assumed is a woman, he could tell that she understood his feelings, pathetic as that might sound especially from an Upper Rank like himself. He found himself instantly drawn to the voice but remained cautious thinking it was a trap to lure him in. Using his flesh manipulation, he summoned his yari and slowly walked towards the direction of the voice, hyperaware of his surroundings as he did so.

"I'm sorry.. I'm so sorry..."

Aizetsu then stopped, trying to process the words only to realise that he did not understand a word she had uttered. How odd. Suddenly, he was extremely tense, ready to dodge at even the slightest sign of danger. Nevertheless the demon approached until he was met with a few bushes. However, it weren't the bushes that had caught his attention, the bushes were the least of his worries. It were the things beyond it. His eyes landed on a sort of pink shrine and a very large, blue cloaked figure which appeared to be hunched and alongside the figure a blue-skinned woman, hair clearly covering her face and dressed in a strange outfit which had a skirt he could only describe as water. The grip on his yari tightened more if it were even possible, Aizetsu had his Blood Demon Art on standby should the creature notice him to attack. However, from what he's heard alone, he can tell it possesses some intelligence.

"I should've done more. Yellow says it'll all be over soon."

Aizetsu hated that he couldn't understand what she said. He needed to know what this woman was saying—he needed to know if he was in danger.

"I wonder what you would think of this. This is your planet after all. I still think it is..."

The demon then crouched behind the bushes, forming a plan in his mind to try and figure out what exactly this being was and if it were a demon of some sort. The idea that a creature that large could be a demon did not seem impossible, but one weaker than an Upper Moon very much so did. Unfortunately, Aizetsu was so consumed in his own thoughts, he hadn't noticed that the slight crack of a nearby bush thus drawing the attention of both the woman and the bigger creature.

"What are you doing over there?"

He was instantly snapped out of his thoughts when he heard her voice turn into that of a questioning tone. He crouched lower, yari gripped tightly as he heard the footsteps of the woman. The closer she got, Aizetsu felt compelled to strike her with his yari and just when he was about to, he stopped himself, noticing that neither the woman or creature had noticed his presence. "I thought I heard someone." He got a got a closer look at her and in the process was able to take in her scent. "I think we're not alone." He immediately noticed that the woman herself was no human and neither demon. This fact confused him and he couldn't help but stand up to try and observe both creatures better. Unfortunately, that act immediately exposed his location as the blue-skinned creature turned around much to his dismay. "Pearl?" His eyes snapped towards the direction of the bigger creature, instantly alert of its every move before his attention was once again directed towards the blue-skinned woman who suddenly made a sort of hand gesture before bowing. "My Diamond, I have a found a native." What were they saying?! It frustrated the demon that the words weren't even being comprehended at that point and he was almost tempted to attack. Nevertheless, he remained calm, observing both creatures keenly.

"... Bring it here."

The woman then began to walk, however, quickly stopped when she realised that Aizetsu wasn't following. This confused her as she then gestured for him to follow. Aizetsu refused, believing it was a sort of a trap as he then took a step back and narrowed his eyes at both of them. "Inochi ga oshiinara, jisei shiro... [Restrain yourself if you value your life...]" Aizetsu warned, not expecting them to understand but did so anyways as he then raised his yari slightly. He assumed she would get the hint and back away but it seemed as if she didn't and tried to approach him once more, this time reaching an arm to grab him. Aizetsu reacted by slicing off her hand faster than she could react as a warning and remaining quiet, simply giving her a sorrowful glare. The woman yelped in pain and stepped back in shock and a hint of fear. "M-My Diamond..." She seemed to retreat towards the creature he assumed was her master and remained vigilant. "Where is it?" The creature then turned around which revealed to Aizetsu a large rather curvaceous woman who appeared very sad. He could sense her sorrow and almost pitied her. Almost. Her gaze immediately landed on her companion who quickly bowed down and seemed to be apologising.

She then redirected her gaze towards Aizetsu, curious and a bit offended. "How did a human manage to do such a thing...?" The woman then stood up and approached Aizetsu with a few steps. Aizetsu in turn backed away, yari prepared and ready to use his Blood Demon Art. "Stay still..." He noticed that she was attempting to grab him but before she could take even one step closer, he disappeared from her eyesight leaving her and her companion confused. "What is this?" The creature would be surprised by a rather firm energy trust near her neck. She looked to her shoulder with wide eyes as she once again saw Aizetsu before he once again disappeared faster than she could react. This time, he was right before them once more, clearly displeased. "Jibun no namae, jibun ga nanimono ka, soshite kono basho ga nandearu ka o noberu. [State you names, what you are and what this place is.]" They both looked at him, confused at every word he had just uttered and simply stood there. "It does not understand us. We're scaring it, Pearl." Aizetsu listened intently on what both of the individuals said, trying to use the tones of their voices as cues on what they might do next but ultimately failing due to it not changing.

His eyes were trained on both individuals, noticing even the slightest twitch they make as he remained quiet. The giant creature then knelt down, remaining a safe distance from him before extending her hand, gesturing him to approach. However, Aizetsu remained stubborn and even backed away, a nasty glare painted on his face as he did so. "Do not be afraid. I won't harm you." From what he had tried to understand of what she said, he assumed that she won't harm him. He assumed she'd try to hint at that as a means of luring him in, but then he heard a name that he could translate into his own language. "I am Blue Diamond, human. I'm merely here to visit what was once hers." The giantess had shown no signs of malicious intent but Aizetsu refused to lower his guard. He did, however, decide to state his name and nothing more. "Watashi wa Aizetsu... [I am Aizetsu...]" The giantess seemed to have partially understood what he said before smiling softly. "Aizetsu. What an odd name. I've never heard anything like it..." Aizetsu noticed her observing him as he then tensed again. However, like the other times, she showed no signs of malice.

She then frowned softly before asking him a question, not expecting him to understand. "Do you grieve too, Aizetsu?" The expression he had, the furrowed eyebrows, deep blue eyes which with strange characters inscribed into hiis pupils, his frown. All of that gave her subtle hints at what he might feel. "Iya... [No...]" He simply responded, shaking his head, almost as if he understood the question. It almost felt like she asked if he grieved. What and why would he grieve? The humans so unfortunate enough to ever come across him and his clone brethren along with the past humans who have and have died various gruesome deaths? No. He could pity those creatures. He could only pity them for their weakness, that they are not as powerful as him. How do such weak things live?

At the moment, however, Aizetsu was thinking only one thing and so was Blue Diamond.

'Kimyōna ikimono da… [Such strange creatures...]'

'What an odd human...'

Note: That was a fun little experiment.

Divider credits:

Bubbles

Gradient and blue divider by rookthorneartistry

Taglist: @hawnkoii @fallstreakfeathers @dreamcorechild @lumitylovepill @hantengus-fuckass-clones @sunbrokenswords @georgette-mademoiselle @hearts4mitsuri @star-dust-wanderer @shytastemakerthing

[prin-does-art]

Hi again, so the second chapter! I hope y'all like this fluff. I gave my best on this chapter, however this is my first fic and english is not my first language, so apologies if anything sounds confusing, and please let me know in the comments. Again, any spanish spoken will be translated in the end, so don't worry ;)

Title: One And The Opposite

Rating: Teens and Up (swearing, mentions of sex)

Summary: After filling the shoes of his alternate self in a parallel universe, Miguel O'Hara swiftly discovers that embodying a different version of himself is far more challenging than he initially anticipated. As he juggles with the complexities of family dynamics, with a wife and daughter who both expect him to be the man they remember, he tries to stay afloat, grappling with the pros and cons of navigating two lives simultaneously.

OR

A domestic Miguel trying his best.

Chapter 2: Sweet reunion

"Gordo, eres tú? Ya llegué!" he hears a voice shout from down the hallway, as the door slams shut, followed by the loud noise of keys rattling and plastic bags crinkling.

Miguel turns around to look at her for the first time, and it's nothing like he thought it would be, to say the least. He imagines it’s like if he were living life immersed in tiger illustrations, and then got to see the real thing for the very first time. It feels like he’s standing in the presence of a real tiger, with its raw power, the rhythmic pulse of its fur, and the untamed wilderness echoing in its eyes. His breath catches as he steps back to really look at her in awe.

Moving through the kitchen in a busy sway, she goes about putting the groceries away, all the while speaking almost too fast to understand like every Spanish speaker ever. It’s as if she hasn't even spotted him there yet — so comfortable with his presence. 

"... Tu hermano no deja de llamarme, deberías ver qué quiere. Ah, y el 'forecast' del tiempo dice que el aire será irrespirable por unas horas, así que recuerda cuando te dirijas a... estas bien?" She asks, getting on the tips of her toes to give him a kiss.

As much as he tries not to, Miguel is startled by the sudden contact, and it must show on his face because she notices too.

"Que te pasa, mi amor?" She asks, a look of confusion in her face that makes her look even more beautiful.

"I uh... I... Just got robbed." He blurts out. 

Even after a day of practicing his Spanish accent, English still instinctively surfaces as his immediate response — it's become much more natural than his native language at this point. The perplexity in her eyes immediately turns into worry as she puts a hand on his face and examines him up and down.

"Are you ok? Did they hurt you!?" She thankfully also speaks English, although with a slight accent that Miguel can’t quite figure out where it’s from. 

"No, no, yo estoy bien. I'm fine just... A little shaken. He had a gun." He answers, gently holding her hand back.

She stares at him, a twinge of shock coloring her features, then looks down at his hand. He gets worried for a second that even though his talons are concealed, something else might be giving him away. Something he doesn’t know about. He can't help the way his heart must be beating a mile a minute, threatening to jump out of his chest.

"Well, you're safe now, okay? Don't worry about it too much." The way she casually utters it confirms for him that this sort of thing happens frequently here. She only smiles sympathetically at him, not even asking what they took — if anything.

He sighs in relief as she says that, and smiles back, taking the chance to get a good look at her face. 

Brown eyes like his, a few moles here and there. Worry lines between her brows that paint a picture of a woman who hasn't had everything handed to her, or the easiest life. He can't help but think he chose well. 

"Listen, I can go pick up Briella, you stay here and I'll-" she says, swiftly turning around to grab her keys.

"No, no, it's okay, I can do it. It's fine." He quickly insists, knowing he has to use every opportunity to get to know his family, and his alternate version better. 

"Okay. Pero ten cuidado mi amor." She warns, placing another kiss on his lips.

*

He gets there early, watching from his car as some parents start making their way towards the entrance. While he contemplates waiting inside the front office — an idea that might be a bit excessive, though it would allow him to catch an earlier glimpse of Gabriella — staying in the car seems neglectful at best. So he settles on waiting near the front of the school until the bell rings.

When it finally does, a crowd of kids emerges from the building, and with them a cacophony of screams and voices as he nervously shifts his weight around, willing himself to stay calm while trying to spot his daughter in the crowd.

“¿Ap��?” She asks, right next to him . Miguel looks down at her, startled. 

He must have been so distracted looking through hundreds of faces, that he didn’t even notice her coming up to him. It doesn’t help that she’s tiny, barely reaching past his hips, and the school uniform makes her blend right in with the navy blue crowd.

“Oh hi there! You scared me!” He tells her with a laugh, trying to play it off.

Gabriella blinks at him. “You didn’t wait in the car this time.” 

Uh oh. Is that bad? Maybe she was embarrassed of leaving with her father, maybe the kids would make fun of her for it now. He quickly scans the surroundings, seeing not that many kids leaving with their parents.

“Uh… Right. Well, I wanted to walk with you, if that’s ok…” He explains, fighting the urge to lean down so she doesn’t feel as small to him.

Thankfully she just shrugs, and turns to leave after he offers to carry her backpack for her. They start walking in silence, with Miguel more afraid of being found out than he was earlier, with her mother.

It’s silly, really: She’s a child, barely nine years old. However, his mind keeps racing trying to figure out what to say, what to ask that’s not going to give him away immediately, while at the same time reassuring himself that it’s okay, that she doesn’t know yet.

“So… How was school?” He asks, putting his hands in the pockets of his pants.

“It was alright.” She answers dryly, staring at the floor as she walks.

“Soo was it alright as in boring, or…?” He risks the question, wanting to know more about her day.

She seems pensive for a moment, considering him. “It’s just that the boys keep making fun of me and Isa again. Even Sam joined in, and he doesn't even play soccer!” She frowns, continuing. “They keep saying we’re never gonna play like Messi Jr because we’re girls.” 

He can feel his fists closing into tight balls when she says that. He knows first hand just how insufferable boys her age could get, especially dealing with Kron and all the hell he’d put him through at school, but he also knows that when it comes to girls they act ten times worse. 

So even though he has no idea who ‘Messi Jr’ is, he figures instead of speaking out of anger and cursing the hell out of these boys, he should at least try and help her with her insecurities instead. 

“Why are you worried about being exactly like Messi Jr when you can be so much better than him?” He asks, raising an eyebrow at her.

She keeps silent for a moment, seeming hesitant. “Really? You think so?” 

“Of course I do! You’re great!” He answers honestly. 

Miguel remembers watching her play a little fútbol prior to coming here. He had been surprised to find out how good she played for her age before…  

Suddenly, he’s almost overwhelmed by the thought of what would have happened to her had he not been here. He has a vision of this lovely little girl he just met being thrusted into a childhood filled with grief. 

No paternal figure there for her. A perpetual sadness that got particularly worse on every father’s day, an endless list of things he would never get to teach her. A constant wondering of what it could have been, what would have been like to have him there. 

He can’t help but feel glad that he could take his place. That he could be there for her in this way and fill this void. It’s an impossible responsibility, yet one he’s happy to take nonetheless. 

Shaking his thoughts away, he continues. “And besides, it’s like you said, right? What does Sam know about soccer, he doesn’t even play! Also, there are some great women players around the world too.” He smiles with a sudden enjoyment, excited to play this role the best way he knew how to.

Gabriella looks like she notices his thrilled state, eyeing him sideways with a curious look. “I know, I know. It’s just that it annoys me, you know?” she says, back to looking pensive. 

“Yeah, that’s… True. And the more it annoys you, the more they do it…” He admits, more to himself than her.

Miguel didn’t want to be a walking cliché. He didn’t have much advice to give her, besides things he really wanted to say but couldn’t. Like: She’s a lovely little girl, that he’s glad to be here for her and she’s actually so much more than he ever imagined, that she could be anything she put her mind to, and already he couldn't think of a single thing he wouldn’t do if she asked him to. No, that would be too much in too little time. Instead, he had to go with what was appropriate.

“You know, you’re gonna find people like that everywhere you go. I have people I don’t like at work, too. The thing is how you deal with them. But don't worry, you’ll learn that with time. it’s not like there’s a recipe for it, you know?” He tells her.

She keeps quiet for a moment, listening to him. Was that also too much?

But then she just nods in understanding as he opens the door of the car for her to get in.

*

“Not again, Gabriella. Again!?”

“¿Qué?” Gabriella asks, rubbing her feet on a rug by the entrance of the apartment when the both of them come in.

“¿Cuántas veces te he dicho para no jugar fútbol con el uniforme? ¡Mírate! ¡Estás cubierta de pasto!” María raises her voice, pointing to her daughter's legs.

“But mooom! It was just a quick cascarita! And I’m not even that dirty!” Gabriella insists, gesturing towards her white socks, which funny enough are covered in green and brown spots, especially by the knees.

“¿A quién estás llamando 'mooom'? Anda, take it off and give it here.” She orders after letting out a breath. 

“Sí mamá.” Says Briella, pouting and dragging her feet to her room, looking annoyed.

Miguel also drags his feet by the threshold, setting his keys on a hook next to the door. He takes off his boots, eyeing the three pairs of slippers nearby. Hesitantly, he puts one of them on, the irony in the mundane gesture settling heavy in his chest, the weight of deception tugging annoyingly at his conscience.

Since he’s already taken a quick look around the place before she arrived from work, he gets to inspect things a little closer this time around.

The entryway is adorned with sleek porcelain tiles that extend seamlessly into the living space. A smart home system panel mounted on the wall offers control over lighting, temperature, and security, right next to the hook where he hung his keys. To the side, there’s a wall-mounted shelf holding a curated display of art and what looks to be some personal mementos. 

A water bill sits on top of it, the sight striking an odd chord — in a time where holographic displays and digital transactions were the norm, a paper bill practically seems like a relic from another time — but also allowing him to find out her full name, which he immediately commits to memory.

“I think she thinks the socks make her look more like a professional player.” María tells him a while later, while slicing some meat by the sink. “We should buy her a pair of those so she stops ruining her uniform.” 

He nods in agreement, putting a plate down as he lets the reality sink in, that this is really happening. This is his life now. 

He’s married, he has a beautiful wife, and he’s also father to a beautiful little girl. And he couldn't be happier. Couldn’t have asked for anything else in life. 

It’s like he just woke up from a bad dream, straight into the life he’s always wanted to live.

Like he’s exactly where he belongs. 

So he helps María with the food. Luckily, he must be incompetent at the kitchen in every universe, because her instructions are extremely detailed, as they prepare carne a la tampiqueña for three.

María yells for Gabriella to come, and they all eat in silence after joining hands around the table for a quick, silent prayer. 

*

Later, María is washing the socks while he cleans the table, and Maná plays in the background. She grooves with the rhythm, singing and humming now and then, completely oblivious to it all.

Objectively, he knows that he’s hiding a lot from her, but his heart can’t help but ache a little at how she’s not intimidated at all by his presence, in fact, she’s used to it. For once, he doesn’t feel like a freak or a monster the way he inadvertently does among the other spiders. 

She spots him there, lost in thought as he finishes up, and says “I heard they’re reconstructing his larynx.” 

“What?” He’s pulled from his thoughts by the weird phrase.

“Maná. The vocalist, I heard they’re reconstructing his larynx to help the A.I replicate his voice better. Can you believe that!?” She explains “That’s why I’m listening to their original songs, I heard it on the news today.”

He blinks slowly, trying to figure out if he’s supposed to be used to things like these. “That’s… Crazy, honestly.”

“Right? I mean, the fact that we aren’t able to tell the difference for most artists nowadays is already pretty insane to me, and now they’re reconstructing the larynx of a dead guy to make a robot replicate his voice better? Come on now!” She remarks, turning back to look at him.

“I know, it’s so wild to think about.” He says, taking the chance to look around the room. 

Sleek countertops adorned in marble, bearing the scars of a few culinary adventures that her and his alternate self probably didn’t have the time to clean yet; Rectangular windows above the kitchen sink, lined with cheap plastic containers labeled “basil”, “rosemary” and a few other herbs, bringing a nice green contrast to the brushed metal accents; A smart fridge on the corner, adorned with Gabriella’s drawings held by magnets all throughout it. Some things never change.

He approaches the fridge, taking one of the drawings to inspect it closer. It’s a crudely drawn version of him… His alternate self, with exaggerated triangular shoulders and, most tellingly, what looks like a phone buzzing in his hand.

María seems to notice his curiosity, approaching to look at the drawing too.

“Listen I know, you must be still a little shaken from… Before,” She tells him carefully “Just… Try not to think too much about it, okay? You’re here, you’re safe. That’s all that matters.”

He puts the drawing back as she places a cold hand on his face again, gently willing him to meet her eyes. 

“I know, I know. It’s just… I was afraid for a second, that’s all.” He says, sincere in his words but not the real meaning behind them.

“And that’s okay. I’m here.” She assures him, pulling him by the arm gently.

The low hum of the city outside is a distant lullaby as they settle into the living room.

She takes a bottle from on top of a cabinet, wordlessly pouring two cups. He takes a sip, letting the burning soothe his nerves.

"I didn’t think I'd make it back." He lies, gaze lingering on the symmetrical floor panels.

Her hand finds his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "You did, and you're here now."

“Yeah… I am.” An inward glow softing his expression, the sensation of a smile blooming from deep within as he stares into her eyes.

As the night unfolds, the room is filled with shared glances and unspoken understanding. María lays her head on his shoulder, caressing him. 

And he can’t help but think that this could work. 

This could really work.

*

When they go to bed, after making sure Briella did her homework and wishing her goodnight of course, María takes off her bra in front of him, and slips on a loose nightgown.

He hates that for so many things that he had considered before coming here, this hadn’t even crossed his mind at all. Hesitantly, he pulls off his own clothes, not able to help how flushed red his face must be. 

Thankfully, María doesn’t seem to notice this, as she’s busy settling into bed and pulling the sheets towards herself. He sits besides her underneath them, awkwardly stiff, and she pulls him into a sideways hug, humming quietly. 

"You seem so different today." She observes, fingers lightly tracing circles on the sheets next to him.

He freezes, eyes widening but trying not to look at her.

"Yeah… It's been a long day.” He says, clearing his throat. “I'm just tired, that’s all. Besides, I gotta wake up early tomorrow. You know how it is, work.” He explains, thinking it’s a good enough excuse.

She turns to fully look at him, blinking in amusement. “It’s friday. Did you forget?” 

He closes his eyes. Fuck.

“Yeah, yeah, right. I meant workout, you know? Gym? I just need some rest.” He corrects, pulling away from her a little and cursing himself inwardly for talking so much.

She seems to get the message, recoiling as well.

“You and your Gym. Should at least try eating those packed proteins just like everyone else.” She tells him, turning her back to him, reaching for the light switch on her side of the bed and then finally lying back down.

"Well, you know how I am," He says, turning off his side of the bed lamp as well but still remaining upright. She hums in agreement.

“Goodnight?” He asks, reluctantly.

“Goodnight.” She replies, sounding already half asleep.

*

"Gordo, eres tú? Ya llegué!” = Fatty is that you? I’ve arrived! 

(Keep in mind that ‘gordo’ is a wholesome way to call someone in spanish, and doesn’t mean she actually thinks he’s fat nor that she is body shaming Miguel).

"... Tu hermano no deja de llamarme, deberías ver qué quiere. Ah, y el 'forecast' del tiempo dice que el aire será irrespirable por unas horas, así que recuerda cuando te dirijas a… estas bien?”

=

“... Your brother won’t stop calling me, you should see what he wants. Ah, and the weather forecast says the air will be unbreathable for a few hours, so remember that when you’re heading to… Are you ok?”

"Que te pasa, mi amor?” = “What’s up with you, my love?”

“Estoy bien” = “I’m fine”

"Okay. Pero ten cuidado mi amor.” = “Okay, but be careful my love.”

“¿Apá?” = “Dad?”

“¿Qué?” = “What?”

“¿Cuántas veces te he dicho para no jugar fútbol con el uniforme? ¡Mírate! ¡Estás cubierta de pasto!” = “How many times have I told you to not play soccer with your uniform? Look at you! You’re covered in grass!”

Cascarita = an informal, purely friendly soccer match in Mexico. The equivalent for a ‘pelada’ in Brazilian Portuguese, although if you search for the term, make sure to include the word ‘futebol’ after it, as ‘pelada’ on its own simply means ‘naked’ haha

“¿A quién estás llamando 'mooom'? Anda [...]” = “Who are you calling ‘mooom’? Come on [...]”

“Sí mamá.” = “yes mom.” 

Carne a la tampiqueña = a traditional mexican meat dish

Lyla, play Mi religión by Maná :) Also you can read it on ao3

[dreamieparadise]

* failed flirting attempts * prompt. ( a drabble for gokudera x momina if possible)

Thank you for indulging me, Jojo...! Can't believe you're asking for drabbles knowing all I ever do is write way too long, tho....crazy but you asked for it!!! 😩

Pairing: Gokudera Hayato x Momina Luqman.

Warning: pathetic man behaviour, derogatory word usage: "pussy." Machismo. Gokudera and Momina are 19 here but what do I look like drawing art for this? So I put tyl Hayato as the picture [I'll draw something next time...]

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚. Third Time's The Charm ‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

Gokudera could hear his blood pounding in his ears as he recalled Shamal's words the other day.

"—Are you a pussy? Just go for it." The blunt words had been said without a shred of compassion towards the young man. In fact, with the way Shamal's face had been twisted, Gokudera was sure Shamal had lost even more respect for him.

The mere memory of that day filled him with rage and embarrassment. His ears once again threatening to turn red and angry against his pale skin.

Gokudera clenched his fists before he held the bathroom sink in a tight grip, leaning heavily against it. He hated the way his face reflected back at him, he really did look so pathetic and needy. A voice in the back of his mind went: "no wonder Shamal called you a pussy...."

Not only had years gone by since he and Momina met but they were now currently living together again while he went to the university nearby. Every day he saw her, and while it was utter bliss living together, he had tried and failed and tried and failed and tried and failed to confess to her or show her that he had any sort of romantic feelings for her.

Any time he tried his words would get stuck in his throat, his hands clammy and his breathing rapid. More than once Momina had asked if he was okay and if they needed to go to the hospital. It was utterly mortifying.

Still, he was a man and the man was the one who was supposed to take the lead in relationships! Even if up until this point it had been Momina.

Finding new found determination, Gokudera robotically confidently walked out of his bathroom and began searching for her.

When Gokudera found her she was making lahoh, just like she did every Sunday.

She grinned when she saw him, her eyes dancing with mirth. "Good morning, Hayato~! Did you sleep well...?"

Gokudera felt his heart skip a beat just from seeing her face and how quickly it brightened. His hands became clammy again, a person being so happy to see him still felt so undeserving, especially coming from the one he loved, but he soaked it in nonetheless. He eventually cleared his throat, looking away. "Ahem...y-yeah..."

Momina paused at his reaction. She was concerned but didn't want to pry so she grinned once more instead. "Okay, good! I hope you don't mind lahoh again...!" Her eyes widened suddenly as she added: "But you don't have to eat it if you don't want to! I can make you something else."

"I'd never mind it...!!" He spoke a little too fiercely, head whipping to her direction as his sea foam green eyes burned with intensity.

Momina, taken by surprise once more, eventually giggled. "I'm glad you like lahoh so much...!! That makes me really happy, Hayato!"

Gokudera felt his fingers tugging on the hem of his shirt. "Anything you make makes me happy..."

"Hmm?" Momina pushed her locks behind her ear. "What did you say...? Sorry, I didn't hear you...!"

"I said..." Gokudera felt his throat forming a lump again. "I said anything you make makes me happy..." He spoke a little louder this time but it was still just a mutter.

Momina paused before she turned the stove off and placed the last lahoh on the plate sitting on the counter. She then turned to Gokudera fully, her expression an apologetic one. "I'm sorry...! You don't have to repeat it again but I still didn't hear you..." Momina's hearing wasn't the best and she could feel herself sink. She hated burdening people like this.

Momina's downcast expression made Gokudera's heart race, the last thing he wanted to do was upset her. Without thinking he reached out and pulled her close to him, her long wavy hair bouncing as he leaned towards her in desperation. He wanted to make sure she could clearly see him.

"I said I love anything you make...! I love yoour cooking...!!" Gokudera was kicking himself by the end, too cowardly to express himself properly. His face and ears burned and he couldn't bare to look at her any longer.

Momina's stared up at him, taking his behaviour in again before her expression once more brightened. Her eyes sparkled as her cheeks rounded and she let out a giggle, swaying back and forth under his grip. "Hehe...! Yeah...? Yeah....? You think so? That makes me so happy!" Her happiness overflowed so much that she gave him a big hug and nestled her face into his chest, giggles escaping.

"I love making food for you!" She began as her gaze softened. She continued as she tilted her head upward. "Making sure you're eating well...that you're taken care of...it makes me so happy! I love you, Hayato...! I'm so glad we're living together again!!"

Gokudera felt himself short-circuit. Despite all his practice he found himself crumbling when up against Momina again.

Momina was still smiling when she felt him start to falter. Her eyes shot open in alarm, "Hayato!?"

"I-I'm fine...!" He spoke awkwardly, he was still struggling to keep himself upright, his grip on her loosened and his legs felt wobbly, even his head spun.

"Let's sit you down...!!!" Momina exclaimed, still holding him close but readjusting her grip on him as she led him to the nearest chair.

And with that another romantic failure was etched into the tapestry of Gokudera Hayato's life. But at least he got to be doted on by Momina...?

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.| End |‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

Extra:

"Pathetic, Kora!!" Colonello put down his binoculars and shook his head. He had witnessed another one of Gokudera's pathetic attempts to woo his cadet. "A real man would have just gone for it...! He's a complete pussy, hey!"

Shamal sighed, one hand digging into his hair while the other lowered his own binoculars. In spite of Shamal's lack of perceived interest in Gokudera, this did hurt his heart. He felt himself wanting to defend his charge but what was there to say...? He was a complete pussy!

"He should just let Momina lead...!!" Colonnello continued, he may as well be talking to himself.

Shamal finally spoke up as he rolled his eyes. "Look...I'm a gentleman---"

"Hah!!!"

"But there's no way that girl would confess! She'd have done it by now if she was even a little interested romantically! And anyway...what kind of man doesn't confess first...? This kid is the worst!"

Colonnello shook his head. "Don't look down on my student, Kora...! She's just stupid! She doesn't know how she feels so of course she isn't saying it!"

"...did you just call her stupid while saying not to look down on her...?" Shamal's face twisted incredulously. Talking to Colonnello was exhausting.

"It's not looking down on her if it's true! It's being realistic, Kora!" He crossed his arms. "The real problem is your kid! He's got no balls!"

"He's not my damn kid...!!!" Shamal's voice rose. He began going off on how he never slept with Lavina and how Gokudera wasn't one of his many biological children who he was still paying child support for. No one listened. No one cared.

Bianchi, who had been here the whole time, finally spoke up with a sigh. "My dear brother...truly...he doesn't have any balls." She shook her head. She would have to visit him once again and talk about this. Bianchi had been making such effort to push her brother to confess that she had gone as far as to talk to Momina about her dream wedding. And yet...

They all sighed, sitting in silence before they eventually got up and left their spots on the roof. They couldn't believe they've been watching this train wreck for years. Even so, they'd be reconvening once again, probably within a month's time.

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚. |Actual End| ‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

"How was this an attempt at flirting!?" What...you don't think complimenting the love of your life's cooking is flirting...!? 🙄😒 it's not my fault Gokudera is a wimp and struggles to do this much. Anyway this was fun! Hope you enjoyed it. 🫶🏾���💗💗

[outro-jo]

nct 127 at hogwarts (pt. 2)

paring: nct 127 member x reader

type: headcanon & blurb

summary: short stories about the nct 127 members time at hogwarts

warning: mark’s mentions injury, mentions of drinking in haechan

 a/n: everyone is aged down bc hogwarts is basically middle and hs. also if doyoung has a fear of sneks irl he doesn’t in this universe. quidditch positions only for those who i think plays

part 1

masterlist | info

——————————

pinterest said this was doyoung if it isn’t… it’s 3am

doyoung

house- ravenclaw

pet- snake

patronus- blackbird: a blackbird patronus is the epitome of intelligence, intuition, and deep thought. blackbirds are fiercely protective and will come to the aid of those it loves when most needed.

fav class- divinations

the holidays at hogwarts were by far your favorite time of year. you loved the way the great hall was decorated and enchanted for the season. though it was a challenging time with exams coming up, the overall excitement far outweighed any stress you may have felt. you were specifically excited that you were now allowed to attend the yule ball as a fourth year. it was a tradition that all of your family members had talked about for years growing up and it was finally your turn to go—that is, if you could ever get a date. the day was drawing ever closer and by now all your friends had dates. it started to feel as if you would have to go to the ball alone. you sat in the courtyard in your favorite tree, feet swinging in the air when a fellow fourth year walked under your branch, looking up at you. “hi, doyoung.” you greeted him. you remembered working with the ravenclaw on a project for your potions class. for him the memorable part wasn’t the good grade you got but that he finally had an excuse to talk to you. he can still think back to the sorting hat ceremony and how cute you were even back then. no matter how he felt about you, he couldn’t seem to get over his shyness enough to say anything to you. it was taking all the courage he had now (and a little felix felicis jaehyun made) to speak to you now. “hi, y/n. i have something i need to ask you.” he said desperately trying to calm his nerves. you hopped down from your perch and stood in front of him, waiting for him to go on. doyoung let out a deep breath and pulled a dark calla lily that he may or may not have stolen from taeil’s garden. “how did you know those are my favorite?” you nearly squealed. “oh, you said something a while back.” he mumbled. “i can’t believe you remembered that.” “i remember almost everything about you.” he said breathed out wistfully. “but not in like a creepy way, i promise!” you chuckled, “it’s ok, doyoung. what is it you wanted to ask me?” doyoung took another deep breath and stepped towards you. “will you go to the yule ball with me?” he held his breath. it felt like time stopped and the time between his question and your answer could have stretched on for life times. in reality, there was really no hesitation on your part. you felt that he barely uttered the words before you said, “i’d love to, doyoung!” an entire weight lifted off his chest and he actually smiled. you’d never seen the ravenclaw smile before and it was quite honestly the most adorable thing you had ever seen in your life. “really? amazing! i’ll see you then! merry christmas!” he said before rushing off before you could change your mind. there was no chance of you changing your mind. 

jaehyun

house- gryffindor 

pet- cat

patronus- newfoundland: with a calming presence and kind demeanor, newfoundlands are indeed a man’s best friend. If you have this patronus, you are probably one of the most loving, affectionate, and kind friends someone could have.

fav class- potions

quidditch team- chaser

you couldn’t have been more excited. as you ran through the crowded halls of hogwarts, there was only on thing on your mind: telling him. you spotted johnny first, unfortunately but it was only because he was so tall but thankfully jaehyun was usually close by with the other boys. “jaehyun!” you cried out, giving him just enough time to brace for impact. he opened his arms to you and pick you up into an embrace. “i’m guessing this means good news?” he laughed at your antics before setting you down. you nodded frantically, showing off the piece of paper in your hands. “i got an s on my owls!!” his face lit up before he pulled you in again. “that’s amazing! in professor markham’s class, too? not even taeyong got a perfect score on their exam!” he exclaimed. “thanks, jae.” the hufflepuff deadpanned but was swiftly ignored. “im so proud of you!” jaehyun said before kissing your cheek. 

jungwoo

house- hufflepuff 

pet- cat

patronus- otter: otters are nature’s fuzzy, cuddly, and friendly pets. Their curious demeanor makes them fearless, granted they also do not have many predators. If you have this patronus, you likely have a close circle of people you are loyal to for life.

fav class- art

jungwoo held your hand as he quickly led you through the dark halls. he came to you earlier saying he had found something and that you would have to sneak out past curfew to see it. leave it to jungwoo to find one of hogwarts many secrets. “allohomora.” he whispered the spell to the locked door before gesturing for you to go inside. in the corner of the dark room, you could barely make out the glass. jungwoo muttered a spell and you could finally see it clearly in the new light. it was a mirror. “go look in it.” he urged. you approached it cautiously and saw your own reflection. slowly emerging behind you was jungwoo’s reflection as he approached you, he placed his arms around your waist and began kissing your cheek. however, when you reached a hand up to touch his head you felt nothing. a gasp left your lips as you whipped your head to see that jungwoo was right in the spot you left him and not at your side as the reflection showed you. “it’s the mirror of erised!” you whispered breathless. he grinned as he nodded. “what did you see?” it was a loaded question. the answer could change everything but it was something that was always just bubbling just beneath the surface and it was just a matter of time before it was revealed. “umm… i saw…” you paused. “myself on a hippogriff.” jungwoo chuckled at you, “you do love your magical creatures. maybe hagrid can help you learn to ride one.” you smiled at him before turning to look back at the reflection. “yeah, maybe…”

mark

house- gryffindor 

pet- owl

patronus- leopard: those with a leopard patronus are outstanding leaders and people respect and look up to them. not only are they determined, but very friendly and easy-going as well.

fav class- defense against the dark arts

quidditch team- chaser

the world seemed to move in slow motion. one minute mark suspended in mid air and the next he was falling to the ground. you held your breath as you watched the coach rush out to the field where mark laid unconscious. it felt like forever before you heard them yell, “get him to the infirmary!” that was all you needed to start pushing through the crowded stands and rush to meet him at the infirmary. you stood watch at the edge of the room while the nurse tended to him. when she had finished, she turned towards you and nodded, allowing you to come to his bedside. your heart ached seeing him still unconscious and bruised, lying in the cot. she told you he would be fine and left the room. you sunk down into a chair next to the bed and slid your hand into his limp one to bring it to your lips. the next several hours were spent whispering silent prayers to gods you weren’t even sure you believed in but they were calls to bring your mark back to you. you never took your eyes off him. finally as the sky began turning golden, mark began to stir. his eyes fluttered open and as they adjusted he met your gaze. “baby?” he questioned groggily. the breath you had been holding for what felt like an eternity was released. “mark! i’m so glad you’re ok!” the tears you’d held at bay silently fell down your cheeks. “hey,” he shifted, bringing his free hand to stroke your cheek with his thumb. “i’m ok, baby, i promise. don’t cry.” you nodded, trying to smile through the tears. “everything’s ok now.” 

haechan

house- slytherin

pet- cat

patronus- weasel: what weasels lack in size they make up for in quick-witted intelligence. owners of this Patronus are spontaneous, playful, and intuitive. But they can also be a bit chaotic. (trust me, he wasn’t thrilled about it)

fav class- potions

quidditch team- seeker

the sky was painted in hues of gold and pink as the sun began it’s descent and though you needed to be back on hogwarts grounds soon you were certainly in no rush. haechan walked hand in hand with you as the pair of you stumbled along the dirt path back to your school with your bellies full of the sweetest golden nectar the three broomsticks had to offer. “i think you’re the prettiest.” haechan slurred. “no! i think you’re the prettiest!” you shot back beginning the argument that would stretch for the remainder of the trek. just before you stepped back in the grounds haechan stopped, “no!” you froze with his sudden sternness. he raised his hand to caress your cheek and suddenly the loopy feeling of the alcohol wore off. haechan dissipated the space between you, coming within inches of your face. the fading warm light danced on his bronzed skin making it appear luminous. his chest heaved slightly as whatever distance between the two of you began disappearing and his lips were pressed softly to your. your heart began to race with the touch and you hoped it would never end. all too soon he separated from you but your eyes remained closed and your bare lips chased after his. haechan chuckled at your display and commented, “cute.” that day you learned about a different kind of magic at hogwarts.

[precious-little-scoundrel]

for the guys like gale… who’ve never had a sibling? brady has a sister to protect, bucky has sisters… but for gale? 🥹🥹 he loves ida but smith is something to protect 💔💔

Babe this is so beautifully put. The sibling aspect?! Oh my hearttttt. I do have a very crushing little storyline about all this. Cleven and what he’d do for Smith and the rest. But Smith is the one endangered -nothing like a little eugenics side plot in a nazi camp

Those Who Can Sneak Peak:

(18+ for thematic and disturbing material, medical horror I guess? racism?? universe warnings apply)

Something in his Major’s face showed a meekness that was as horrifying to Brady as it was pleasing to the doctor.

“You see this,” the doctor was eager to go on, lifting the dreaded folder and beginning to theatrically bury it beneath other papers, “this can stay here, if I am otherwise occupied. If more pressing matters require my skill. You have a woman with you of ethnic race, bronze, black hair -I can overlook her for these orders, on a few conditions.”

Brady could tell Cleven was hard at thought by the frantic twitch in his jaw, even as his eyes stayed mild and his mouth soft, he seemed to be trying to find that riddle answer. Brady felt sorry for him. There never was one in this place.

“You play many games to pass the time, you and your men, yes?” The doctor spoke again, having spent the past few deadly silent moments enjoying Cleven’s futile calculations, “I want you to play a game with me. I will not monopolize your time. But things must be fair, I cannot endlessly provide my expertise with no recompense, you cannot go on in your current state. The body flags, does it not? You have felt what I can do for you. That was just a taste.”

Gale Cleven didn’t think he was likely to forget those Adrenalin shots anytime soon, or their symptoms of panicked sweating and tight chested jitters worse than any flak shakes, the utter inability to sleep. Or its side effect of thudding blood in his temples and his armpits. And in his groin. The way Brady’s arms had been littered with the puncture wounds long before his first.

Maureen hadn’t been pleased for once to find him stiff, she’d said she knew of those kind of stimulants and they could kill a man by stopping his heart, said he should never take them just to please her. He’d had to tell her then it wasn’t to please her: that he’d had no choice in it, and that distressed her in turn.

Maureen was very far away from this hut and its gargoyle of an overlord and she needed to stay that way. Smith, he felt, was closer by the specter of her physical description.

“Games?” Cleven repeated and he felt rather than allowed his own mouth to smile, likely a wide and disbelieving thing because his heart might not accept the obvious here but his mind knew exactly what sort of games these would be. “We sure do.” he balled his fists on his arm chair to keep away the impulse to tap, “But I think you’ll find some of us -what did you call it? Allowing? I’d raise you; experienced. At these games.”

The doctor looked puzzled for once and on his own part Brady was sure he looked idiotically confused, although he felt the aura of Cleven’s meticulous precision in the air, some miasma of intent and calculation that made him snap to it and try to play along. Cleven’s smarts and intents were like that, tangible as a pet monkey on his shoulder but every bit as impossible to intelligently converse with.

“Sir,” Cleven leaned forward in his seat with that disarming cordiality that Brady had only ever seen him use on women or new recruits, “you and I know this game, s’why invite amateurs?” his meaning hung thin and obscure for a brief moment before he sucked in a breath and added his addendum, Brady should have seen it coming, “I can make it worth your while, a-and uh, and I am the one in need of treatment, like you said. Three's a crowd, sir. Send him out,” he didn’t even glance at the boy he was trying to save, just a callous jerk of the head to indicate his subject, “and we’ll play this, you and I -man to man.”

[matthyeu]

perfect boy ― zh.

pairing ⇢ zhang hao x ftm!reader 

genre ⇢ hurt/comfort

warnings ⇢ gender dysphoria

word count ⇢ 792

synopsis ⇢ you can always count on zhang hao to cease your worries about your gender.

hao was not expecting silence upon entering the apartment. usually you were ready to greet him every time he came home from a long day of work. it was unusual for it to be as quiet as it was. if not waiting for him, he would expect you to be immersed in your latest tv show obsession. 

however, it wasn’t completely silent. once he stopped his steps, he could hear some faint sounds coming from inside your shared room. he furrowed his eyebrows, walking towards the door to find out what it was. 

his face shifted immediately from a confused expression to a worried one when he realized this wasn’t any sound. it was you crying. 

without any further hesitation, he pushed open the door to reveal you face down on the bed. the way you held the pillow over your ears probably muffled everything, so you might have not known he had come home. you were like that, always tuning out the outside world in times of despair so you could listen to yourself. whatever happened must have been serious. 

he carefully sat on the bed, the sudden dip pulling you out of your session. you whipped your head around, meeting eyes with your boyfriend. “ah, when did you come home?” you asked, voice breaking halfway through. 

“shhhh it’s okay i just came home. don’t worry about it,” he whispered, trying to keep the calm mood up for you, “what happened?” 

you looked hesitant to tell him, but he would never force it out of you. he wanted you to always be comfortable with him, so he made sure to respect your boundaries. he didn’t expect you to tell him, not to mention what you told him. 

“do i really look like a girl?” 

“huh?” 

immediately, you started breaking down again, forcing your head back into the covers. it seemed his answer, well lack thereof, triggered it again. regret came over him. it just caught him by surprise, so it wasn’t his intention to not deny your worries. 

panicked, he placed a hand on your back, trying to console you as much as he could with his touch. you wouldn’t hear him if he started now. he had to wait until you stopped your session again to say anything. 

luckily, it worked, the feeling of his thumb rubbing circles on your back always seemed to bring you some sort of solace. you took a deep breath, trying to suck in all the tears you could. 

“i’m sorry–” he cut you off right there. 

“don’t be sorry dear, i’m sorry for not being able to respond to your worries right away. i was just caught by surprise because in no universe would you look like a girl. you are the most handsome boy i’ve ever seen.” 

“are you sure?” 

“positive.” 

“but…” oh here was where he’d get the story of who made his love cry. “it’s just. i felt so comfortable today. i picked out such a great outfit. i looked in the mirror, and for once, i actually felt so comfortable. i looked, and there really was a boy there.” 

“there’s always a boy there,” he corrected, not wanting you to try to downgrade your own gender identity. 

you rolled his eyes at his interruption but felt very happy he did intervene on that day. it made you smile a bit before continuing your story. 

“besides the point. i went to the café, and after taking my order, he said ‘have a nice day ma’am.’ just…what part of me looks like a ma’am? i thought i looked so masc today, but that made it all crash down. i couldn’t even say anything.” 

“well that person’s just stupid,” hao finally responded, not letting you continue. he didn’t want you to relive that experience because it was utter bullshit. 

“you think?” 

“dearest, you are my wonderful boyfriend, the only boy i could ever have eyes for. you do not look the slightest like a girl. i can’t believe people are that blind. maybe they just need extra thick glasses to see past the transphobia. they don’t know anything. please don’t listen to them. you are so much more than what they have to say.” 

when you broke down again, crying into his shoulder, another wave of panic washed over him. had he said something wrong? 

“dear, are you okay? did i say something wrong?” he quickly asked. 

you shook your head quickly before throwing your arms around his neck. “you are just so perfect, the perfect boy. i can’t believe i have someone like you.” 

he laughed, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull yourself close to him. “no, you are the perfect boy, and i don’t want anyone telling you otherwise.”

[sucrosette]

★— ⋆｡˚ [What If We Rewrite the Stars?]

For Day 4 of Carry on Countdown 23, Stars.

On proposals.

Rated M for Baz and Simon getting (un)surprisingly frisky.

⋆｡˚

If Basilton ever proposed to anyone– not that he had anyone in mind, and certainly not his roommate who wanted very much to defang him and who Basilton certainly did not want to snog– he already had his plan laid out. Mage weddings were notoriously elaborate and romantic, as anyone with their thumb to the page of Mage Histories would have been well aware, so of course Basilton, best mage in his class, would already have his plan. Not only did he have the general populace of magekind to contest with, but also his very own mother.

Everyone bloody well knew she’d hung the moon for his father. Basilton couldn’t hide the scowl the thought of his father brought him, shaking his head to clear his mind of it. He refocused himself back to the empty field before him and then up to the clear sky above.

If his mother had hung the moon, he could bloody well rewrite the stars.

It’s in the theory of it, not the literalness of the thing. He wasn’t trying to throw the entire universe out of sorts or ruin planetary alignments. What Basilton was going for was a simpler thing, the illusion of rearranging them. He wasn’t entirely sure into what yet, at least not for the proposal, he knew that should be more personal, but for this practice bout, he has an idea.

He’d already tried a number of quotes from the classics, “I defy you, stars”, “there was a star danced”, “the stars are painted”, and that was only a small sampling of the Shakespeare he’d performed for the empty field and night sky, but nothing had taken yet. He’d tried any number of classics, a good few popular modern publications, several different poems, and just about any song that had broached the top one hundred in the past decade that also made mention of the barest, but nothing had taken yet.

Today, Baz is trying something a little off the cuff. Not exactly about the stars directly, but maybe something that could cause that illusion. ‘You would not believe your eyes–’ his wand flourishing elegantly out and up towards the starts, but as soon as the phrase leaves his lips, the field floods with fireflies. Fireflies. Which were not stars. He supposed at least something had happened, but the phrases were too tied together, either as some sort of ubiquitous social thought or a pervasive tie within his own mind.

Baz lets out a sigh and sits himself back down in the grass, hand resting palm up on his knee, facing the swarm of lightning bugs in front of him, staring off into utter nothingness. A firefly lands on his palm, it’s little legs tickling at sensitive skin.

So they were real.

Basilton was probably going to get in trouble for this.

⋆｡˚

The moment Baz knows he’s going to ask Simon Snow to marry him is the same moment they’d banished the room to a swirling galaxy all around them. He’s awestruck, confused, alight with affection for the soft contact between their hands, even amid all the violent, frustrated thoughts flying about his head in a haphazard flurry.

He knows he shouldn’t think such ridiculous things about Simon Snow. It’s not like he’s ever going to confess to him, let alone ask Snow to marry him, but Crowley, something about the stars pulled down into their room is doing something to him. It’s not the feeling of fire in his veins, nor the crackling electricity on his skin, nor even the ridiculous alluring way Simon looks all open and vulnerable like this, but the whole situation.

Of course it was ‘Twinkle, twinkle little star!’ he’d spoken the magick into. He knows it’s not a spell, he’d tried it a dozen and a half times before this in a dozen and a half different ways and come to nothing for it. But this time, burned clean with Simon’s magickal fire at his fingertips…

This is as close as he’s gotten to success, it’s more magnificent than he could have possibly envisioned in all his years as a mageling up to this. It would probably be better than he could ever hope to deliver too, but that doesn’t matter to Baz in the moment. All he can think is there’s no one else he’d rather share a sight like this with than Simon Snow.

Merlin and Morgana’s sake, he’s a bloody lovestruck nitwit and Baz has never been more certain of anything before. He’s going to ask this ninny to marry him one day, if they both survive the year.

⋆｡˚

It happens two years after their graduation. Simon and he both are on break from classes and Baz’s father and stepmum have flown the girls to the states for their own hols away from home. Oh sure, Baz and Simon could’ve joined, but an extended stay with his dad sounds like hell to Baz, so Baz and Simon decide to take their holiday in Ireland. Well, rather Baz decides and Simon can’t deny it’d be nice for a change of scenery. Okay, so the weather wouldn’t be much different from London, but he’d never been before, and Baz excited always makes for a good time.

Apparently, the mages in Ireland are absolutely insane, in that their spells are like nothing anywhere else in the world, old magicks still running wild throughout the lands, but also in that they also throw a damn good holiday party. Baz has never been one to avoid an excuse to show up and show off, especially now that he’s got such a divine dancing partner. Simon makes excuses, says he doesn’t know the steps, he’s got two left feet, he’ll trip them both up, but he lets Baz drag him around from place to place anyway.

He doesn’t like to be in the spotlight anymore, Baz knows, not on his own. But Baz also knows when he’s holding Simon’s waist and leading him in their dances, in their lives, the world falls away from both of them, leaving everything but the music and their footsteps behind.

It’s an impulse, a moment of downtime between the parties and the socializing and sightseeing, a moment where Basilton doesn’t have anything planned in his neatly penned itinerary, and Simon sights a theatre across the way from their cafe where Baz had been enjoying coffee and cake.

“Let’s see a movie,” Simon hums between sips of his thick cocoa, eyeing the titles in the display across the way.

Baz hums his own acknowledgment, watching Simon more than anything else around them, nodding before Simon even decides on a feature for them. “Why not? We can have an easy night tonight too, take the night off dancing and stay in our room, enjoy some whiskey in our bed, kick our feet up.”

Simon’s eyes are already twinkling, his feet tapping under the table excitedly, and Baz knows he’s made the right decision immediately.

It’s a musical they agree on, something loud and high energy, in contrast to Baz’s idea of a lazy evening, but Baz can never say no to a musical, and Simon doesn’t really care one way or another whatever they watch. So it’s a musical they’re watching.

It happens not too long after the hour point in the movie. The song starts playing. Not just any song, but The Song. Baz hears it and he knows this is going to be the song that changes everything about his proposal, that it’s going to be powerful enough, popular enough, to sink into every blade of grass and tree and rock and, oh this song is going to be good magick. There’s not a doubt in his mind.

His fingers are already twitching to find his wand and try it, iching to see if he could get it right the first try, to see if the magick’s already powerful enough for it. Simon must sense his insane spike in energy though, because his hand snakes out to grasp Baz’s and twine their fingers together, squeezing over his digits and bringing him back from the machinations of magick for the rest of the movie.

Simon listens through all Baz’s technical ramblings on the music, the inspirations the writer’s must’ve taken, the absolute chops on one singer in particular, the confusing choices made about the one singer who had supposedly been an operatic. Simon listens patiently through it all until warm whiskey settles Baz’s anxious energy and the movie’s finally forgotten between their lips.

“You’re terribly adorable when you get like this, you know, Pitch?” Simon asks before stealing a soft, slow kiss, his warm hands cupping Baz’s cool cheeks to keep them close together. Simon presses Baz’s back down to the mattress and climbs atop him, knees braced at Baz’s waist, straddling him slow, kisses trailing tender along Baz’s jaw and cheeks until Baz is humming low for him.

Baz’s hands wander up Simon’s bare back, following the notches of his spine tenderly, mapping his back all the way up to his wings, even though Baz knows these plains of Simon better than he knows his own hands. “Oh, shut up, Snow,” Baz groans, voice heated between shared kisses, lips wet with their want, “You’re just as bad going on about any and every new pastry we try.”

“I am,” Simon doesn’t even bother to deny it, kisses wandering over Baz’s neck, marking him with soft love bites, sucking the skin underneath dark with his affections, “But there’s better things to think about right now, aren’t there?”

Baz’s fingers crawl up Simon’s wings, dragging soft over their leather, lips quirking into a frown. Simon wasn’t wrong, he supposed, but he wasn’t going to just say it outright. “Why don’t you tell me what you’d like me focusing on, love, and we’ll go from there…”

Simon kisses a soft trail down Baz’s chest, unbuttoning his perfectly pressed shirt as he goes, “You know what I want, Baz.”

One of Baz’s hands slides off Simon’s wings to grip over Simon’s ass, gripping tight and forcing them to grind together, pulling a sharp gasp from Simon above him, the nails remaining edging just on this side of sharp against sensitive joints. “Words, love. I won’t ask nicely again.”

“You,” Simon rasps into his chest, nosing over the soft hair there, “Just you.”

Baz’s tongue darts out to wet his own lips, grinding them together again before that same hand slips to wrap Simon’s tail about his wrist, tugging it sharp in the moments following. “Needy thing,” Baz murmurs back, but he doesn’t argue against it. Baz’s always been terribly bad at denying Simon when he was honest with him, “I’ll give you what you want, love of mine, all you want and more…”

The moments melt into hours like that, between heated kisses and soft marks burned into skin, hands tugging in hair, gasps and moans lost to the air between them. Naught between their skin but Simon’s whispered worship and Baz’s quiet praise, pressing closer and closer into each other until nothing remained but each other. 

Still, it keeps playing in Baz’s head the next morning, that week, through their anniversary and the rest of the month too. “Rewrite the Stars,” the song rang in his mind, and Baz knew that was exactly what he intended to do, what he’d always intended to do.

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Winkfield Twyman Jr.

Published: Dec 27, 2023

I have a tender spot in my heart for race pioneers. My spirits were lifted when L. Douglas Wilder was sworn in as the first Black American governor of a U.S. state—the state of Virginia, of which I am a native son. My mom was dying of cancer at the time, but she wanted me to witness Black History in the making. So on that cold January day in 1990, I left her bedside and bore witness to the coming of a better time in Virginia.

Similarly, on the night of November 4, 2008, when Barack Obama was elected the first Black President of the United States of America, I joined family and friends to run into the darkness of the San Diego night, yelling and screaming, whooping and hollering. It was a sacred moment in our American history to be always cherished and never forgotten. That the American electorate would elect a Black person to the highest office in the land was something our grandparents and our grandparents' grandparents could only dream of.

I considered the project of race in America to be finished that November night in San Diego. The election of a Black U.S. president broke the psychological barrier in our minds. There is no higher office than President of the United States of America—in the entire world. For me, the questions of race were all answered. I was done with race.

But too many Americans can't seem to quit race. Fifteen years after President Barack Obama's triumph, some feel it noteworthy to remark that Claudine Gay is the first Black President of Harvard University. Worse, in the face of numerous mounting scandals, many are defending Gay by claiming that the attacks against her are racial in nature.

They are not. They are all well deserved.

The demand that Gay resign stems from the utter lack of moral competency she displayed in her testimony before Congress, in which she said that calling for the genocide of Jews is only against Harvard rules in certain contexts. She also failed to condemn the Hamas atrocities against Israel in real time on October 7, another reason she should resign. There is also now evidence of serial plagiarism. And did I mention Gay has published no books—an unprecedented feat for a Harvard President, unless one travels back in time to the year 1773?

And yet, many are coming to her defense. Having finally got their wish of a Black president of Harvard, Harvard seems unwilling to let her go. The racial wagons have circled around Gay, with President of the NAACP alleging that White Supremacy is afoot and Morehouse President David Thomas claiming in a Forbes interview that Gay is a scholar at the "top of her profession... as qualified as any President Harvard has ever had."

This is not only misguided, but deeply ironic. Did you know that Claudine Gay during her Harvard career has repeatedly targeted and disrupted the careers of prominent Black male professors?

As Dean of the College, Gay terminated Ronald S. Sullivan, Jr. as Faculty Dean of the Winthrop House. Professor Sullivan, Jr., a graduate of Morehouse College and Harvard Law School, was the first Black faculty dean of a house in the history of Harvard College.

What was Professor Sullivan's offense? Sullivan deigned to represent the disgraced movie producer Harvey Weinstein—an act of moral conscience, since all are entitled to legal representation in our legal system. Yet legal conscience mattered not to Claudine Gay, who terminated a race pioneer for doing his civic duty.

You may excuse this heartless termination as a one-off. You would be wrong. Economics Professor Roland G. Fryer, Jr. was next in the sights of Dean Gay. Fryer was a top Black professor at Harvard. After having overcome all sorts of hardship and childhood deprivation, Professor Fryer joined the faculty at Harvard to become the second-youngest professor ever to be awarded tenure at Harvard, and went on to blaze a trail of distinction, including winning the MacArthur Fellowship and the John Bates Clark Medal.

Yet when Fryer undertook research into the killings of unarmed Black men in Houston, Fryer's research found no racial disparities. He made the mistake of undercutting the racial narrative that the Left has adopted, and as a result, Gay did her best to remove all of his academic privileges, coordinating a witch hunt against him. Fryer survived Gay's crusade of discharge but Fryer's lab was shut down, his reputation tarnished.

No one in good faith should defend President Gay because she is the first Black president of Harvard. Even if you don't agree with me that our racial struggle is in our past, someone who has targeted Black male professors has waived any benefit of the "first Black" defense.

W. F. Twyman, Jr., Class of 1986 Harvard Law School, is a former law professor. He is also co-author of Letters in Black and White: A New Correspondence on Race in America published by Pitchstone Publishing.

==

I've said it before and I'll say it again: Claudine Gay is as corrupt as they come.

[madhogthymaster]

I Played Every BioShock Game in One Month, And I Must Scream!

On January 2nd 2023, I made the sporadic, partially ill-begotten decision to buy all three BioShock videogames. Up to that point, I had never experienced these titles directly save only through cultural osmosis, the occasional meme and, naturally, The Discourse! I would spend the following lunar cycle playing them, writing down my thoughts and posting them on Twitter dot com. Today, after enough time passed for my heightened feelings to reset, I have collected those floating brain bubbles and transliterated them into some manner of structured essay for your reading pleasure - or utter lack thereof. Did I have anything meaningful to add to the conversation on one of the most dissected and dissertated franchises in the history of the art form? You may be the judge of that. It begins.

-

Part One: Atlas Drowned

BioShock. The first BioShock. BioShock the First. "Spiritual" successor to System Shock 2, Bioshock. Yes, that BioShock. This is most certainly not a title that requires any sort of elaborate introduction. Since 2007, there have been many videos, articles, essays, podcasts, and everything in-between, dedicated to its analysis. For better and (decisively) for worse, the concept of Videogame Discourse was birthed from the metaphorical wreckage of this opus smashing itself onto the collective consciousness. I may be indulging in prosaic hyperbole here but the point still stands: it was, and still is, a big deal. You have probably heard it all before: the game is about the Folly of "Free-Market" Capitalism as it drives Society to ruin, the inadequacy of the wealthy to lead, a satirical takedown of Ayn Rand's Objectivism as it unceremoniously flops when confronted with the reality of basic human nature and needs. It's about America, in other words. It gleefully revels in its political stance with the subtlety of a clown-faced vending machine yelling: "Welcome to the Circus of Value!" It might as well be using a copy of Atlas Shrugged to wipe its anus, at this point. That is all to say, first impressions were quite positive and I was enjoying it a lot.

The underwater city of Rapture is a poignantly depressing location: everything from its very name to its opulent Art Deco architecture screams of egomaniacal pretention. It is a monument to its founder's hubris turned into a decadent, decaying tomb for his ambition. It perfectly conveys all you need to know about Andrew Ryan, the founder of Rapture and initial antagonist. He is a rich twat who hated having to pay taxes so he created his own version of a Libertarian Blockchain disguised as a country where there would be "No Gods or Kings. Only Man." He then proceeded to make himself the god-king of his utopia; it crashed and burned along with everyone in it. "Is a man not entitled to the sweat of his brow?" he said, indeed.

Rapture is a wonderfully designed world, in that sense. The only elements that clash with the contextual aesthetic would be the aforementioned "Circus of Value" marketplaces. Let me explain. Andrew Ryan, like all demagogues, takes himself super seriously. His entire platform was built on the premise that he's a charismatic genius and everything he says is Gospel. His whole civilization was constructed on the terrible ideas he convinced both himself and many others were actually good. Seriousness, self-importance and overcompensated grandiosity were the building blocks of Rapture, the roots of its aesthetic, the basis by which this society could function - until it wouldn't anymore. As such, the presence of those vending machines, openly mocking the very foundation of Uncle Andy's Ryanworld, feel out of place within the narrative and universe at hand. They have been clearly put there so that the developers could do a little meta-humour, a wink and a nudge at the player, to redundantly point out how absurd it all was. They must have been worried the game was too subtle and some players would not get it... Anyway, this was but a minor complaint. By all means, take it with a grain of salt. Now, I have some legitimate criticism to bring forth.

Whilst a lot of the conversation has been directed at Brow Sweat Man, his God complex, his insane ambition, his "Chain of Industries" ideology and "Laissez-Faire" economics, not nearly enough analysis was ever dedicated to the other major antagonist of the game, and I can definitely gather why. I will now openly address spoilers for the latter half of the story by discussing the character of Frank Fontaine (aka ATLAS), the de-facto main villain of the piece.

Fontaine is a grifter who played a long con at the expense of the "Kingdom of Reason." He started a smuggling ring that introduced gun violence and religious bigotry to the city, used the malcontent of the exploited working class to start a bloody rebellion, manipulated and killed people behind the scene through various aliases. His corporation is the one responsible for mass producing all the Big Daddies and Little Sisters, the iconic "monsters" of the series running around town. They are a product of Eugenics science based off Nazi Germany's human experiments. I should stress that Ryan approved all this as the city needed exploitable labour in order to run. The reason behind Frank's actions is simple: money, profit, cold hard cash. Andrew Ryan was a wealthy fool hooked on his delusional Capitalist drivel, his "daring vision" for the future of mankind, Fontaine was the reality check. The thematic exclamation point to the game's entire thesis, the depressing yet irrefutable truth behind all the cruelty and horrors caused in the name of IDEAS is good old fashioned Greed. Someone in a position of power will always be there to make a buck out of human suffering.

To be perfectly honest, I find this throughline rather pedestrian. It is the truth of Capitalism, yes, but it is such an obvious statement delivered with such un-earned gusto that it makes the entire game less interesting as a result. Here we have a compellingly detestable villain in Uncle Andy, the "good guy" of his story, a living byproduct of American Exceptionalism, Ayn Rand's poster boy, a poignant satire of the current socioeconomic establishment, being replaced by a basic money-grabbing baddie. What made Ryan so effective is how real he felt: he represented the warped worldview of the out-of-touch, obscenely rich class that rules the planet and that's going to eventually lead us to our demise - much like in Rapture itself. Fontaine, by contrast, is a mustache-twirling cartoon. He acts and talks like a typical videogame villain who doesn't have anything meaningful to say to you other than how smart he is, how he loves money and how he's totally going to get away with it (insert evil laugh here) while sporting the worst accent I have ever heard in my life. His point as a character is moot and the writing is messier as a result. Still, BioShock is a good game, perhaps not as masterfully crafted as many believed it to be, but rather innovative for the time. There is a clever (for 2007) twist right before Fontaine takes over as the final boss in which it is revealed the player's character was being mind controlled the whole time. It's a cute meta-commentary on the unique nature of our interaction with videogames.

Had I played BioShock when it first came out, I would have probably placed it atop a golden pedestal, sung its praises as the best written story in the history of the medium and angrily rejected any criticism towards it in the most obnoxious way imaginable... I think I was trying to make a point but my brain gave up half way through the tangent. As such, I shall conclude this tirade by saying I enjoyed playing this classic title but I have no interest in going through it a second time. Is that fair? Yes, it is.

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Part Two: Tetsuo The Drill Man

I moved on to Bioshock 2: The BioShockening, a game that didn't need to exist, in many ways. On one hand, it drags the theming of the first game to unnecessary levels of dilution as its message had already been abundantly delivered. On the other hand, you play as a Big Daddy with a Big Drill. There is a new ruler in Rapture, her name is Dr. Sofia Lamb. She took over after the fall of Andrew Ryan's "Individualist Utopia" by indoctrinating its inhabitants into a cult that's equal parts Early Christian commune and Eugenics with an extra dose of fanaticism. Much like with Frank Fontaine, we have a case study as to how an unregulated, isolationist, capitalist state lays the foundations for stochastic terrorism and sociopathic grift - just in case it wasn't already obvious that Rapture is supposed to represent America. I say that but, to be brutally honest, Dr. Lamb's politics or set of beliefs are as undercooked and generically laid out as they can get. I had to interpret and extrapolate what her deal was through context clues more than anything else. It wouldn't surprise me if the game's intent was to comment on Communism instead of everything else I pointed out, which would somewhat invalidate its previous stance on Capitalism and would further bring into question the overall political stance behind the BioShock series... but let us put a pin on that thought, for now.

As far as the gameplay is concerned, I believe this is a slightly better, more refined, more challenging loop than its previous iteration. These titles are both solid First-Person Shooters with light RPG elements but the second one improves upon its many shortcomings. The ability to hold both weapons and "magical gene powers" at the same time is such a simple yet elegant mechanic that it (bio)shocks me it wasn't implemented earlier. The hacking mini-games have been simplified to the point of fruitlessness - and I'm fine with that. The big change comes with the Big Daddy himself and his huge, oversized, dominating drill that penetrates all its victims at full force, making them scream. It singlehandedly redeems melee attack as a worthwhile feature. Did I mention it's a huge drill?

Beyond that, there isn't much to add to The Discourse. To reiterate, BioShock 2 is a thoroughly pointless sequel and it barely qualifies as one. It's a glorified expansion pack that adds nothing of substance to the narrative, lazily resting on the laurels planted by its predecessor. It's a more polished and fun title to play, undoubtedly, but it's otherwise easy to see why it is considered the forgettable middle child stuck between an era-defining first outing and whatever Infinite turned out to be. Speaking of which, it's time to get into that one.

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Part Three: Infinite Mysery

WARNING: the following few paragraphs represent my initial impressions on the game, left mostly unaltered as I experienced it for the first time back in January 2023.

So, Infinite, BioShock numero tres but technically a prequel set in 1912, the flying city of Columbia, and all of that. All I knew about this game beforehand was that its engine was used to revolutionize 3D pornography for years to come... Do not ask how or why I know that.

Our "Andrew Ryan" for this episode is played by Father Comstock (oh, brother), an evangelical, white supremacist prophet who gathered his "flock" to live in a conferedate utopia closer to the "Kingdom of Heaven" and far above the "Sodom Below." I used to think the first game was unsubtle and heavy-handed with its commentary, impassioned in its righteous indignation if a bit simplistic by the end, but this game takes that sharp edge and slashes the US flag with it, literally!

This game appears to have things to say about American myth-making, the religious zealotry fueling the glorification (and alteration) of history as a means for Power, The White Man's Burden and the dangerously real threat of Christian Nationalism. It seems to condemn it all with the fervor that bespeaks decapitating a cop with a portable blender - which Infinite is all too eager to provide. What makes the experience truly effective is the setting itself: a far cry from the claustrophobic doom of Rapture. The misery of that place served as a remainder that Capitalism is unsustainable and leads society to ruin. That's an obvious statement by this point and, as such, it left me lukewarm on the experience. All it did was reinforcing my beliefs. Columbia, however, is a different beast. It is not the sunken tombstone to the hubris of a rich fool, it is the realm of the "Chosen Race" thriving under the watchful gaze of the deified Founding Fathers. It's a thriving, gorgeous vision right out of Jules Verne's mind, and it runs on the back of slaves.

That's what makes it truly horrifying and infuriating. The fact that it works, that its ruler managed to build a community for "good white Christians" thanks to the power of religious indoctrination and the exploited labour of the "lower races" that keeps it afloat. It is unsettling, bone-rattling, how inviting the city looks at a first glance, its Victorian architecture bathing in the sun as a barber shop quartet entertains curious onlookers. It's a grotesque dream of Dixieland as filtered through Gone with the Wind lenses.

As such, getting to disrupt the perfect little order of this bigoted, racist 19th century style town through acts of wanton violence is INFINITEly more cathartic than killing random junkies in an already disrupted, dead society. Sticking it to an unjust hierarchy by murdering cops and destroying property elevates the enjoyment of playing this title tenfold. It's exactly what was missing from my ideal BioShock experience. It's simply more compelling to defeat that which is yet to be even challenged. Another major element in the game's favour is a main character with actual agency, as opposed to a silent protagonist whose whole deal was his tragic lack of agency. It's much easier to be invested in the narrative when my guy has a literal say in the matter.

I sure hope the game does not somehow ruin everything in the second half. That would be so disappointing...

WARNING: the following are my real, unfiltered opinions on BioShock Infinite.

Do you know what is the most egregious, baffling, aggravating turn a narrative like this could have made after all it's done, after putting out such an inflammatory takedown of the American conservative institutions? Why, Bothsidesing, of course! According to this game's oh so wise writing, when those rebelling against their literal slavers do it by employing Direct Action instead of "the right, non-violent way" then they're just as bad as them. That is how Infinite chooses to frame the Anarcho-Socialist revolution of one Daisy Fitzroy (the only named black character) as she's compared to Father Comstock (the racist theocrat) with the all too familiar adagio of "Both sides are in the wrong." I am seething with rage.

This game went out of its way to pontificate against America's history of bigotry and racism up to including actual horrendous ethnic caricatures to drive its point home. Then it cowardly decided to throw it all away by taking the "Enlightened Centrist" stance. Essentially, the people in charge of the project have demonstrated to me their unwillingness to commit to a difficult subject as soon as it came to addressing the Real American history, opting thusly to an implicit endorsement of the Neoliberal Status Quo. The message now reads: "Slavery was bad but the slaves should not rebel against it! They should debate the slavers in the Market Place of Ideas!" You could take such a blanket statement and apply it to every sociopolitical scenario where there is a clear Oppressor with a clear Oppressed and expect it to be uttered by those who benefit from the Oppression.

I understand this title is more than a decade old but I will unendingly rag on the plate of unfulfilled potential due to cop-out writing. In fact, this whole situation has forced me to reevaluate my thoughts on the first title, as well! All of a sudden, the dichotomy between Andrew Ryan and Frank Fountain (the latter pretending to be on the side of the working class with a "clever" pseudonym) starts to feel like a less immediately obvious form of political bothsidesing. It wouldn't surprise me to learn that the game was cherry-picking its themes as if they were somehow divorced from the larger critique on the Establishment. Implying, in other words, that concepts like the "The Invisible Hand", Objectivism and Manifest Destiny could be extricated from the very fabric of American Society when the inconvenient truth is that they are as much a part of it as Racism, Slavery and Genocide. I am not necessarily changing my opinion on that first iteration, mind you, but I do find myself dubious over my initial read given how the series ultimately panned out, with all the poise of a bald eagle covered in blood-soaked feces! It has just occurred to me, as I was writing this down, that Infinite is basically a remake of the first BioShock but dumber in every conceivable way. More over, BioShock 2's main antagonist, Sofia Lamb, was presented as the total opposite to Andrew Ryan (but just as bad) which reinforces the aforementioned Centrist stance the series now appears to champion while serving as a prelude to what would become the profoundly stupid thesis of the third one! It is astounding just how bad Infinite is turning out to be: horrible in a manner that makes me retroactively question my own ability to understand media literacy. This, dear readers, would be the time when I start screaming.

That said, it's not even the worst part. No, the most offensive aspect about any of this is that None of it actually matters, by the end.

WARNING: That Ending.

It turns out Father Comstock and your main character are the same person but from a different timeline when an Important Choice was made because of Guilt which led to becoming a Reborn Christian and the foundation of Columbia. You had a daughter which was taken from you by your evil doppelganger from another dimension and you were left trapped in a pocket world of some kind and then the rest of the game happens. Something, something, Regret. Something, something, commentary on Player Agency. Something, something, you must stop existing in the past in order to erase all the bad timelines, Sonic '06 style. By the way, there are timey-wimey bollocks, in case it wasn't clear. This is garbage and I do not care for it.

To see what this game was actually about, all along, further undermines whatever "political position" was presented to me throughout the diegesis. Depictions of oppression, racism and human suffering very much rooted in actual history were used as a mere thematic red herring. Meaning that there never was any real commentary, it was a "distraction" from the true narrative. Let this thought consume you for a spell. The game will have you slaughter fascist cops as well as recently liberated black men in the same gruesome, sadistic fashion while framing both groups as "equally bad", only to then pull the rug from under you and tell you it was all window dressing for the Real Story, which was about our (white) protagonist being tormented by his bad life decisions. I am beyond done.

The best I can say about the third and final chapter of the thoroughly tainted BioShock saga is that its contentious presence can be applied to a broader discussion about the nature of Art, namely if or when certain lines should be crossed, for what purpose should they be crossed and, especially, by whom. Infinite was built on the foundation of bad ideas and irredeemable execution. It presented a vapid vision of political radicalism from the obvious perspective of White Privilege and managed, bewilderingly, to not have anything to say about said politics, at all! It's the kind of idiocy that should have been nipped at the bud before wreaking untold damage - much like the main character himself. Nevertheless, it is a real piece of media that exists, a piece of gaming history and, like all history, we can learn something from it... Never Again! That would be the lesson to learn here.

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Part 4: Something, Something, A Conclusion

As I am about to put this series inside the proverbial Tomb of Amontillado, I suppose this would be the right time to enlist my many gameplay pet peeves, my general pedantries, starting with the hacking mini-games: annoying in the first game, pointless in the second. In general, dealing with turrets, cameras and security robots was an unpleasant experience throughout the trilogy.

In the first two entries, some wise guy had the "great idea" of mapping the jump input to the upper button of the controller. I positively loathed that. They finally fixed it in the third game, just in time for it to stain the bed with several more horrible decisions! Why can't I hold more than two weapons at once in my inventory? That is such a backward step compared to the rest of the series!

Infinite must have also been one of the first AAA games to implement the hideous, horrendous, hackneyed sprint feature that would have you press on the left analog stick while the character is moving. Why was this ever considered an acceptable design choice?

I guess there were a few DLC. They sure exist.

... And with that underwhelming post scriptum, I shall now set my sights elsewhere - away from "Great Chains" and "Kingdoms of Heaven." New games await but we will always have the memories.

The memories of the giant drill, specifically.

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BioShock and BioShock: Infinite were developed by Irrational Games. BioShock 2 was developed by 2K Marin.

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[yolowritter]

In Offense to Wang Fu and Su-Han Part 2: Yoda did it better!

Hello there everyone, and welcome back to part 2 of this post! Yes I know I said they'd be days apart but I decided to just post them together. It's time to talk about Su-Han, because I have a lot to say about him! This man...the supposed "Celestial Guardian"...genuinely drove me to near-insanity over the course of Season 4. Su Han and his Order are basically the Jedi from Wish, but before I get into why he's an utter waste of screen time...let's at least look into who he's presented as, shall we?

We first meet Su Han during the "Furious Fu" episode of Season 4. From the first moment of his appearance on screen, the archetype he's supposed to fit into is blindingly obvious. Strict mentor who wants things done the "right way" and is about to argue with the more open-minded and flexible protagonist about it. This type of conflict is super common in media, and to give Su Han some credit...it's executed decently enough here. When he first meets Marinette, notice how he stands off to the side of the room, protectively clutching Barkk and the Box. Additionally, Su Han isn't immediately aggressive like many would be in his situation. He makes no move to threaten Marinette, doesn't even raise his voice at her when she questions who he is. He also doesn't ever blame her for "stealing the Box" or anything of the sort. Instead, Su Han calls this a misunderstanding, calling on the Order's knowledge on the Kwami to prove that things have changed, and are not "the way they should be".

Su Han only begins to raise his voice once Marinette reveals that it was Fu who entrusted the Miracle Box to her. Again, he isn't angry here, mostly sounds indignant at the thought that the Temple's worst disciple would be the one who held onto their most treasured artifact. Su Han sounds genuinely worried the more Marinette tells him about their current situation, and the man has every right to be! Two Miraculous are missing, which Su Han knows could lead to untold devastation and destruction if they fall in the wrong hands! And to validate his point, they have fallen in some of the worst hands imaginable! Look at what Hawkmoth has been doing to Paris on the daily! Stormy Weather 2 created an erupting volcano in the middle France's capital city, Syren raised the waters to rooftop levels, potentially leaving hundreds of thousands to drown, not to mention that for said water to actually stay where she raised it, the level would have to be consistent world-wide! Hawkmoth threatened to start another nuclear apocalypse in the New York Special (not that Su-Han knows what that is but anyway), and Mayura leveled half of Paris to the ground as bait for Ladybug and Chat Noir! Hawkmoth akumatizing the Guardian of the Prodigious in Shanghai led to untold death and devastation! The only reason half the world is still standing is because Marinette has a magical reset button!

As the Celestial Guardian, it would be Su Han's job to prevent any of this from happening in the first place, but he and the other Masters were literally dead during those events. To learn of the mere possibility that such catastrophe could have occurred should have sent the man into shock! I'd be surprised if he doesn't have a heart attack when he catches up with everything Hawkmoth has been up to! Of course he would think ill of Fu for losing two of the most powerful Miraculous on the planet! Of course he would demand to take the jewels away from a girl who is both too inexperienced and too young to bear such responsibility! Mind you, Su Han doesn't try to (immediately) take Tikki away, even though he voices concern over Marinette's wellbeing! And this is all because he treats the Kwami as exactly what they are! Celestial Gods with the dormant powers that once created the entire Universe! And then...Su Han realizes that Plagg is roaming free. Plagg, who has historically been responsible for the extinction of entire species! From his point of view, there's two children running around with cosmic powers, one of whom is the Holder of the Kwami who could snap the whole Universe out of existence if he so much as sneezes wrong! All in all, I think he's right to be concerned and try to rectify the perceived mistakes here.

Unfortunately...Su Han loses almost all credibility in the next five minutes. Yes, Adrien is the first to pull out a weapon, but the man is an adult. He knows that it's children he's dealing with. Teenagers are emotional, which is why the Miraculous are only supposed to be given to adults. He knows this, because it's one of the arguments he uses literally a minute before the fight starts. And when Ladybug urges Chat to calm down, Su Han instead decides the best course of action is to beat on a child who hasn't attacked yet and is clearly far, far below his own skill level. Adrien loses instantly, and when Marinette jumps to his defense...Su Han decides to beat her up too. I'm sorry, is this a joke? This man is an adult and allegedly the Master of an extremely well-disciplined Order of protectors! And his first thought is to use violence against two children who clearly stand little chance against him?

This and later scenes are where Su Han shows his true colors, and what lays underneath his role of Celestial Guardian. He's a scorned authority figure unfamiliar with the modern world, whose primary method of course-correction consists not of dialogue or serenity like his tenants say, but rather violence that he could have stopped at any moment. Su Han has no reason to go on the offensive here, all he'd have to do was dodge a few blows until Ladybug and Chat Noir stopped, put his staff down and open a discussion! Despite him making reasonable points with the precepts earlier, which to be honest seem more like common sense than actual practices, he clearly has no idea how to act once encountering something even slightly unexpected. When Ladybug and Chat Noir are fighting Furious Fu, Su Han hides in the background and hollers useless instructions at them as they do all the work. He actively caused this Akuma to happen by allowing his bias against Fu to overtake him, even when Marinette told him that the once-Guardian had relinquished the Box and therefore all his memories. Fu has no idea who this random man is, and Su Han can come up with a thousand excuses to borrow the cane, find the kids, have a conversation with them, and then return it a few minutes later.

There was literally no reason to act like that with Wang except for the fact that this is how Su Han always is! He places ridiculous, impossible expectations on his young students, and when one of them inevitably fails the tasks, he ridicules and singles them out instead of actually helping! A thousand finger push-ups? Going an entire day without eating? Those tasks are ludicrous, most especially for a young teen like Fu would have been at the time! And what exactly happens when Su Han loses control of the situation he's in right now? Why, he throws a temper tantrum comparable to the local Karen! And that is never a good thing! At the very least, we do see he has a method to resist Akumatization, and also knows what it is. Most likely because Gabriel isn't Nooroo's only evil Holder. But once again...he never tells Ladybug about it! Never bothers to teach her! Or even tries to communicate information the Guardians would presumably have on Akuma, considering that Su Han immediately recognizes one at a single glance!

Thankfully, he does acknowledge that Marinette's knack for problem-solving and adaptability are what's needed in this new, modern world. And he recognizes that he needs to adapt to these circumstances, giving Ladybug his trust and promising to watch over her. You'd think he's learned his lesson. You'd think this is the case of a once overbearing authority figure slowly learning that sticking strictly to the book may not always be the correct solution. You'd assume that Su Han is going to improve himself moving forward, right? I hope you can all hear my sarcasm through these sentences. After making this vow, he then proceeds to be completely and utterly absent for a grand total of...sixteen consecutive episodes! Lila better watch out, she's got competition for the fewest appearances in this entire show!

Thomas, are you actually kidding me right now? And after this, he only shows up to give the "Ladybug has been right all along" speech in Multiplication and then in Re-Creation for the final fight. So...Nooroo be willing, let's take a look at this scene, shall we? Su Han appears and is furious with Ladybug for losing all the Miraculous! Understandable, fair point even. Marinette questions where he's been all this time...and Su Han says he got distracted by...cat videos. The reason why the literal Celestial Guardian wasn't there to help them throughout Season 4 (except Ephemeral, but we don't talk about Ephemeral)...is fucking cat videos! I know this is played off as a joke. I understand that Thomas and co. thought it would be really funny! It isn't! Do- do you want me to have an aneurysm? Should I lose my last braincell and re-write the entire show while I'm at it??? What in the un-ironical, Nooroo-defying Hellscape of modern media do you mean cat videos???

Okay...I'm fine. Totally fine. Anyway, Su-Han decides to actually be sensible and return to Tibet to get reinforcements! Incredible, an adult using common sense! In this show? Truly Miraculous! Suffice it to say, we don't see him until the Season 5 finale. Because of course not. Speaking of the Temple, it's about time we pivot back to what we know of Guardian Training, the Order in general, and my reasons as to why Su-Han, as the Grand Master, is the reason why the Tibet Temple fell! As I said in Fu's post, the training regiment for Guardians is completely ludicrous. Genuinely more ridiculous than Lila's lies, and we've all seen Chameleon! A thousand finger push-ups? Going days without eating? For young teens? I assume this was intended to teach self-control, but their methods border on child abuse! Not to mention that they clearly don't even work! Even aside from that can of worms, Su-Han's methods of teaching are also extremely unsafe for the young Guardians in training!

Let's take the very day that the Temple fell as an example, shall we? Fu is being tested, and his job is to hold onto the Miracle Box for one entire day without drinking, eating, and/or moving from his spot. First of all, this test is unironically the stupidest thing I've ever heard of. I'm assuming this is supposed to, again, teach patience, discipline self-control, etc. Before I get into how damaging this is for anyone to be doing, I'm going to ask a rather serious question. Literally why is this the real Box? No, hear me out! This test is supposedly something that every Guardian has gone through at some point in time. Cool, okay. But why is this real? This Order has allegedly existed for at least a few centuries up now, and you're telling me that in this time-frame, it never occurred to any of these wise and venerated Masters that a disciple could...I don't know...open the damn thing and use a Miraculous? These things are extremely dangerous! Fu accidentally wiped out the entire Order, because he was hungry! He's a child! Of course he wouldn't understand the complexities of Duusu's powers, or how much his emotions would affect the sentimonster! The poor kid probably wanted to make like a little carrier bird or something go fly over to the kitchen and come back with a piece of beard! And Feast was the result! So why the hell did Su-Han never think that they should make a fake (empty) box for the pupils to be given?

Can you tell why this is an extremely stupid logical fallacy? I get the basic premise is all about controlling oneself and resisting the temptations of power, but the very real security risk doesn't need to be present! Did these idiots forget that locks have existed for like 6000 years??? If you are going to be braindead enough to not just give out a fake Miracle Box, at the very least use a basic method of theft-prevention! Fu had full access to actual Gods at age 14! Since I brought up Yoda in the title, and the Jedi at the start, let's draw some really quick comparisons. Because the "inspiration" for these guys had to come from somewhere, and we all know Thomas never does cultural research into anything. The Jedi are magic space wizards with laser swords. The Jedi have Padawans in their Order. These are kids who are selected as apprentices at age 13 at the latest, and are taught how to use laser swords that can cut through solid steel doors. Lightsabers melt through most things like a hot knife on butter. It would be incredibly stupid if these things didn't have some kind of training mode, right? Well yes, that's why they do. Lightsabers have "low intensity" settings meant specifically for training. And sabers used by Padawans are locked in said modes before the apprentice is considered ready for real missions outside the Temple.

Naturally, it's a bit unfair to compare laser swords to the literal power of God(s). I don't want to go on a tangent here, but Jedi training has many, many more safety measures that keep in mind the well-being of their students. The Order of the Guardians. Has a total of 0! Isn't that just lovely? Plus, they also overtax their students, working them to the bone! When Yoda was training Luke in "The Empire Strikes Back", we clearly see them taking breaks in between physical activities. We see Yoda advise Luke, imparting wisdom and encouraging him to use critical thinking. He tells his apprentice to be patient and thoughtful instead of rash and hot-headed. To be mindful of the future but always keep his mind in the present. To be adaptable, and that he can do anything he puts his mind to. Those same lessons would apply to the Guardians! Even more so, considering the extremely important nature of their work! Yet we never see, hear, or even are told about any of this happening during Fu's training! The Order works on a "can't do it? get out!" system...except Fu was taken from his family as a child! Even if he was allowed to leave and possibly take their "sacred" teachings outside the Temple, he has nowhere else to go! The Guardians are forcing children into servitude, overwork them, borderline abuse them, and also are extremely careless with the magical world-ending magic they're supposed to be protecting!

And who exactly is responsible for moderating their practices? Who is meant to be a role model and teacher to everyone else in the Tibet Temple? Su-Han, that's who! Now, I understand that he was most likely raised the same way. I understand he may have grown up to consider all this "normal". It's reasonable to say that about him. But at the very least, he had a responsibility to see to his students' safety! All of them died because nobody thought to put forth even the most basic of security measures! And this isn't a scenario where they get tricked by some grand threat on the inside, this is a case of extreme neglect, which causes a catastrophic accident! Can you tell why this entire organizations screams OSHA Violations??? Can you tell why I'm halfway through dialing knockoff-Jedi CPS??? Can you tell that this entire idea was incredible, yet comes off as unimaginably stupid and illogical the moment anybody even blinks at it for more than 0.2 seconds??? And every last bit of fault rests on the Order's Grand Master! Because unlike the Yoda and the Jedi, who got caught up in some really terrible circumstances, Su-Han had absolutely no excuse for how badly he treated his students, how terribly he failed his own life's purpose, and how far deep in the mud he let his organization fall! It's as if this man was given a castle to renovate and came back with two sticks and a rock!

The worst part is that none of this is ever addressed! Nobody talks a single sentence about the Guardians expect for those few instances I already mentioned! And in Ephemeral, the one time Su-Han actually has a point, the show immediately pivots to the "Ladybug is always right, the kids have to do this on their own" narrative! Why? I could go on a whole separate rant about this stupid episode and how little god damned sense it makes, but why is it that the moment the slightest bit of character complexity rears it's head, the second a lesson decides to step up for our heroine to learn, it is instantly whacked over the head with a steel chair and kicked off a cliff??? Su-Han could have had a moment with Marinette here! Instead of apologizing and exclaiming that she can do no wrong, Su-Han should have sat down with her and explained his reasoning for the identity reveal he suggested. He should have actually mentored Ladybug, instead of crying about how useless he is and watching cat videos on whatever the legally distinct version of Youtube is in the Miraculous-verse!

And what happens when he finally comes back with those supposed "reinforcements"? Why, it's Luka and Jagged Stone of all people! I may love these two to hell and back, and tell me why does Su-Han decide to train them in "thousand-kick-dragon-jutsu" or whatever other nonsense they have him spout in Furious Fu, instead of other Masters of the Order??? Also, wasn't Luka supposed to be in Brazil for some other stupid reason I don't have time to get into? And yes I know they left Paris because Monarch knows he knows Ladybug id, but why'd they go to Tibet of all places? How does this make any sense? Why aren't there twenty billion ninjas in red hoods or some TMNT shit ready to kick Gabriel back into the basement he crawled out of during Re-Creation??? Tell me why, Thomas! What level of incompetence do you have to reach for something this easy, with such a massive volume of things to literally copy-paste into your story, to end up as a bigger incoherent mess than half of the Season 5 retcons you did???

The saddest thing is that I can't even try to fix this! Because the story is literally structured in a way where for Fu's accident to happen, the Guardians needs to suck. And okay, let's keep everything until Furious Fu. Su-Han shows up, whole episode plays out like normal, and then he actually keeps his promise! Pops up in a few episode, maybe Chat Noir does some handstands with him if Zag's laywers think they can copy Lucas' homework. Have Ladybug actually talk to the guy without immediately going down the line of "Marinette has girl power and can do no wrong". And yes, I know that requires more explanation but we've gone on long enough. It just peeves me when she only wins or is correct because the writers say so. Making your main character have a point isn't hard! She can still win the argument while learning a thing or two from Su-Han. That's the point of debates! 1And then the guy might actually be able to escape his cat video addiction! What else am I supposed to say here? They said some things would happen, then none of that did, so Su-Han turns out sucking. If he'd had a couple lessons with Ladybug and Chat, including the Akuma resistance skill, I'd like him much more.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go and watch an actually mentor on my screen. Probably Yoda, considering he (in the OT) does his job right. Anyway, sorry for all the Star Wars nonsense this rant, it's just the most widely-known pop culture thing I could think of which fits for a comparison to be made. As always, feel free to shoot me an ask with any thoughts. Discussion is important in this fandom, especially since we're all hibernating till the London Special drops. Also, I swear if Felix isn't in it... anyhow! I'll see you all next time with "In Defense of Alya Cesaire", because the writing screwed my girl over and she doesn't deserve the hate! Until then, Stay Miraculous everyone!

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