#every single move is criticized and made into something malicious

[halseygray]

let’s be honest with ourselves…do we even deserve an album?

[plus-size-reader]

Blood pt.4

Stiles Stilinski x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 2589 words

Warnings: none 

Summary: The pack finally gets to meet this mystery girl of Stiles’ but that glaring secret of theirs just keeps causing problems. 

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3 

—————————————————————————————————

The table fell silent as you walked up to it, every single one of their attentions poised on you as if you were the most interesting thing they had ever seen in their entire lives. 

You hated it. 

For obvious reasons, werewolves made you really uncomfortable and as much as you wanted to trust that Stiles knew his friends well enough to know they weren’t going to freak out and rip you apart, you weren’t sure. 

You didn’t like them. 

Though, as Stiles became more and more aware of the fact that you were dragging your feet, his grasp on your hand tightened to help you remember that you weren’t completely alone.

“I’m going to be here the whole time, just relax” he prompted, hoping that his words were going to be enough to make you feel better about this whole thing while also knowing that wasn’t going to be. 

This was something you never wanted to do in your life, but if you wanted to live your life here, you’d have to do it. You had to find out if what he said about them was true, so that you knew that you could stay. 

It sucked. 

The only thing that made you feel any better about this situation was seeing how well your act had worked on Scott this morning. If you kept it up like that, there was a chance that they would never know what you were at all. 

Maybe you could just keep it a secret from them forever. 

You had done crazier things. 

By the time the two of you made it to the table, the entire group had shared knowing looks, shocked that the tall tale Scott had weaved about what he’d seen this morning wasn’t all one big lie. It just wasn’t something they ever thought would happen.

“Hey, there they are. I was worried you were playing hookie today” Scott grinned, addressing his words to his best friend, who only shrugged at his words. 

Not showing up at all today would have been a better idea, all things considered, but you’d have to answer the questions at some point. 

It was much better to just get it over with. 

“Could you blame me?” Stiles jokes, sitting down beside Scott at the table, taking you with him. You were stiff as you sat down, doing your best to stick in your own little bubble without drawing too much attention to yourself. 

Unfortunately, that was basically impossible given the circumstances. 

The two of them shared a laugh before Scott addressed a question to you, one that you missed completely because you were still trying to come to terms with the situation you had found yourself in. There was just too much going on at once, and you couldn’t help but be a little overwhelmed. 

You weren’t designed for this, after all. 

You should have never been afraid of anything, or had to answer to anyone but that had gone out the window when you decided to attach yourself to a teenage boy who was involved with a pack of werewolves. 

Just your luck. 

“Y/N, honey. You okay?” Stiles hummed, obviously addressing you that way for their benefit. Scott had asked you a point blank question and while he was well aware of what was going on with you, they weren’t. 

You had to get a handle on this. 

“Yeah, sorry. It’s just a lot at once” you shrugged, plastering that bubbly grin on your face that made you feel as though your cheeks could crack in two at any moment. It wasn't natural for you, but as you had previously decided, it was natural for this girl Stiles was dating. 

This girl that you were pretending to be. 

“It’s okay. We’re all friends. We’re just a little shocked at the news is all” Scott allowed, smiling at you in a way that was surprisingly genuine. It wasn’t like the werewolves you remembered from all those years ago, that were made up mostly of gnashing teeth and threats of violence. 

He didn’t look like he could hurt anything, or anyone, even if he wanted to. 

“Stiles didn’t tell you, did he? He can be so goofy sometimes” you laughed, bumping the male in question with your shoulder. The action was surprisingly natural for you, and Stiles reacted naturally as well. 

Pretending to be a couple was the easiest part of this whole thing, for both of you. 

It was real life that you were struggling with. 

“I just didn’t know how” Stiles decided, moving your two hands, that were still interlocked, onto the tabletop. It was a blatant display of the relationship the two of you were supposed to share, but you didn’t mind it. 

The more they focused on the show you were putting on, the less they could pay attention to you.

“Come on. Tell us more about it, how did you two meet?” another in the group, a redhead, prompted. She had a cheery demeanor, with eyes that held an intellect that you could have seen shining there a mile away. 

She wasn’t a wolf, but she stank like one just like Stiles did, that much you could tell. Of course, she wasn’t human either, but based on what you could get from her alone, you had no clue what sort of creature she was. 

“We sort of just ran into each other, and went to get a bite” you shrugged, not even bothering to hide the clever little nod to how you really met within your answer. 

If nothing else, knowing something they didn’t made this a little more entertaining. 

It was hardly the meet-cute that Lydia had been hoping for, but that didn’t mean she didn’t accept the answer you gave her. After all, it was clear that Stiles really had a thing for you and as long as he liked you, she liked you too. 

Contrary to what you would have thought, she wasn’t as tough a critic as Scott seemed to be. He just wanted to figure out what was going on right now, 

Stiles had never once had a girl over like that, and every time he’d ever gotten close, Scott knew about it. Sometimes, Stiles stopped talking to a girl to call him in the moment and let him know that he had talked to a cute girl. 

He just had to make sure you were legit. 

That was literally his whole job as his best friend. 

“So, you go to school here Y/N? I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before” he questioned, offering another comforting smile to you which you couldn't help but be a little tired of. Every time you looked at him, all you saw was your coven, torn apart and left for dead.

It was really putting a damper on this whole conversation. 

“I used to live here actually, a while ago, and now I’m moving back. I actually enrolled when I got here, but it's been a little difficult getting used to being back” you shrugged, not totally lying this time. 

Being around this many people, any number of whom could have walked in on you that day instead of Stiles, was hard to wrap your head around. You were so used to being alone; travelling alone, living alone. 

You were always alone. 

...But you had to do something, and if you wanted to stick around here for a little while, you knew that you had to build a life for yourself. 

“She’s gonna stay with me for a little bit while her folks get settled” he allowed, hoping that at some point, the intense line of questioning would come to an end. Even if you were just a girl he was seeing like they believed, this was a bit much. 

He’d never had this many questions for someone Scott was dating. 

Though, Stiles knew that it was just his friend's curiosity that was driving him. There is no malicious intent or suspicion behind it, that you would likely want to read into it later when it was just the two of you alone. 

This was just how Scott was sometimes. 

“Well, it’s good you two have each other then”

You expected more, more questions or pointed looks in your direction but the group seemed content with the backstory they had been given, at least for now. The more direct questions he had, Scott was just going to ask Stiles when they were alone. 

It would be easier that way, so that he didn’t make you super uncomfortable. 

There was definitely still something about the relationship you two shared that Scott didn’t fully understand but eventually, he came to the same conclusion that Lydia had. It was clear that the two of you liked each other, and for now, that was good enough for him. 

It had to be. 

After all, he had no reason to assume there was something wrong with you. You had only just met and deciding things like that took time. 

~

“They hate me” you decided, plopping down on Stiles’ bed as if you owned it. On the outside, your meeting them had gone fine but you just had this bad feeling about it. You hadn’t sold it hard enough, or maybe you had sold it too hard. 

In any case, it seemed clear to you that they were never going to like you. Just the way Scott looked at you told you everything you needed to know. 

They didn’t trust you, and they never would 

You were an idiot to think that you would just be accepted here, like you belonged. 

“What are you talking about? They loved you. You were great” he hummed, really not seeing where this was coming from. His friends had no reason not to like you, just like his dad was going to have no reason not to like you. 

This was all going to be just fine. 

All you had to do was trust him. 

“I’m not supposed to have to do any of this. I’ve lived lifetimes, and never had to worry about something so trivial” you grumbled, your voice muffled by the pillows and blankets of his bed, which you were still face down on. 

You didn’t want to do this, to pretend to be something you weren’t just so that you could live here but now that you were potentially in danger, you had to. 

You had to keep this up until Stiles found a way to tell Scott what you really were and even after he did, there was a chance it wouldn't go well and you'd still have to leave. There was just too much that was up in the air for you to relax. 

This wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Still, before Stiles could really get a chance to comfort you over the whole thing, your attention snapped up at the sound of a car pulling into the driveway. This time, it wasn’t accompanied by the terrible stench of dog, which meant it wasn’t Scott. 

Sheriff Stilinski must have been home. 

“Okay, this dinner is going to be a lot easier than at school. You just have to let me handle it” Stiles prompted, sure that you would be able to handle that much. If you could sit at a table full of werewolves, his dad wasn’t going to be a problem. 

In fact, he had every confidence that tonight was going to go perfectly because Noah was so easy going.

Stiles was a good kid, he did as he was told and never got into too much trouble, if you didn’t count all the supernatural business. If the most he needed to do was have a girl stay at the house for a while, he doubted his dad would mind. 

It wasn’t like he was home too often anyway. 

You nodded, not bothering to tell him that you were pretty sure you’d decided to just let him handle everything from now on and stood up, doing your best to keep calm. Though, as it seemed to be doing a lot lately, something went wrong. 

You couldn’t have dinner with his dad. 

Not only did you not eat, and wouldn’t be eating but as far as food was concerned, you were also starving. You didn’t have to feed super often but with all this stress lately, your system had just blown through the little bit of blood you’d had yesterday. 

If you didn’t get something in you soon, it wasn’t going to be pretty.

“Um, Stiles? Did you say dinner?” you clarified, though your comment served more as another gentle reminder that you weren't’ like he was. The male seemed to keep forgetting that you weren’t human like him, and that you couldn’t do the same things. 

You had other things you needed to attend to, like the hunger gnawing at your system as you spoke. 

“Oh, yeah-okay, change of plans. I’m going to have dinner with my dad and you’re going to stay here and lay low” he suggested, not really liking the idea of leaving you out. However, that was quickly remedied by the fact that you wouldn't have wanted to partake anyway. 

As much as you had enjoyed a nice hot meal when you were human, you weren’t anymore and you preferred to get your meals from a different source. 

“That sounds great, but what am I supposed to do about my dinner?” you asked, trying to be subtle about what you were going to have to do. There were some things about harboring a vampire in your home that weren’t pretty, and this was one of them. 

...but as much as you wanted to, you couldn’t just starve so that he would be more comfortable. 

He had to figure something out, or else you would have a repeat of the event that got you here in the first place, and you were pretty sure he didn’t want to deal with that again. You got blood everywhere when you did that. 

Besides, keeping you fed was in his best interest, considering you live in very close quarters with him now. 

“I’ll take care of it” he promised, pressing a kiss to your forehead and heading out before he could even think about what it was that he’d done. His glaring feelings for you could wait, because he had something much more important to take care of first. 

Thankfully, Stiles did have an idea. 

If his best friend didn't ask too many questions, there was a way that he could get some blood for you without having to hurt, or even involve, another person. He just had to hope that Scott was willing to help him. 

It was really a long shot, at this point. 

“Hey Scott, buddy. When you get this message, I need a favor” he prompted, speaking as plainly as he could into his phone and leaving a voicemail for Scott that he could only hope the other male would get and be able to be cool about. 

After all, what he was asking wasn’t exactly a normal thing best friends asked of each other, even when one of them was a werewolf. 

It was definitely going to come with a few questions. 

Stiles just had to hope that would be lucky enough to be able to lie his way out of those. He had been doing that an awful lot lately, but in his defense, he had a promise to keep.

[chaoticlarrie]

Okay you don’t seem malicious so I would like to try get have a conversation with you.

I understand that the situation of gun safety in the U.S is unfathomable to people in Europe. That is a valid and real perspective.

But it doesn’t make the jokes or sarcastic comments ok. Just because it you truly don’t understand why there is a debate about gun rights doesn’t mean you should be making snippy comments about shootings. Shootings in the U.S are a tragedy, and they are not a tragedy that effects you. Saying the situation is surreal so you only have surreal comments to make doesn’t make sense because not understanding why this is happening does not excuse the fact that these comments are hurtful and insensitive. Maybe if something doesn’t make sense to you it isn’t your place to comment.

Secondly, saying this could be about any other unjust law passed by the U.S or another political move, is a poor comparison. This, while deeply entrenched in the politics of gun rights and white supremacy in America, is also just the deaths of a lot of people. The shootings stem from lack of actions from the American government, but every single one isn’t a law or a bill, it is a very scary loss of life. (Also not super comfortable with sarcastic comments from non Americans about America’s oppressive political actions either? But not the point right now. )

Third, saying that these comments are directed at the U.S government and not the citizens just doesn’t work. It’s the citizens that are dead. No matter how much animosity you have towards those in power, and no matter how much sympathy you have towards the victims, being sarcastic about shootings is being sarcastic towards both those parties.

Nothing in that persons tweet was new, and none of it was acceptable. So often these jokes/comments are retorts to jokes about a small European cultural thing, like food or table manners. You cannot tell me their is genuine criticism hidden in that context. In the context of petty internet squabbles about feeding guests.

I don’t think the people who make these comments/jokes are heartless monsters, but that doesn’t make it alright. You can be right about where these comments come from and why they are made but it doesn’t make it acceptable. At the end of the day it is just making light about the deaths of children, often from a place of superiority. “We may do x but at least we don’t have children dying in shootings once a year!”

And to get personal because you said you wanted to know if those comments are hurtful. They are. I’m probably the best case scenario for an American teenager and I’ve been doing shooting drills for 75% of my life. Seeing these kinds of comments makes me feel like we are entertainment for the wider world. Because every time there’s a shooting these comments crop up. A lot of people dog piling on a tragedy because “at least it wasn’t their country” that has this obvious problem. I can’t speak for everyone but it exhausting to have it treated as seriously as odd food and table manners. It is not a gotcha to remind Americans that schools are unsafe. I’m hurt by these comments because no matter the intention it always feels like a reminder that these issues are not a concern to people.

I understand why these comments/jokes are made, but that doesn’t make them okay. They are insensitive at best and sometimes feel actively harmful.

Ok I understand what you're saying and I think you're right.

More than defending the joke itself, I wanted to explain why europeans would often make insensitive remarks like that.

But I probably went too far in trying to explaining myself and it ended up sounding like I was defending being insensitive about the situation. I'm sorry for that, it was not my intention.

[griimhilde-a]

if you know, you know.

———       a response to those who refuse to move on.

EDIT: after some encouragement and realizing that, while i tried to be respectful and private about this situation, i was not given the same treatment, i’ve decided to be upfront and filterless. here is a link to my page of receipts that i did not provide in this post. 

i would like to point out that when i made the DNI, it was buried and sandwiched in my super long rules purposely so that it wasn’t explicitly visible and drawing attention. it was specifically put there for mutuals to understand my boundaries for the new blog, and as soon as i moved blogs, my guidelines underwent heavy reconstruction and the DNI section was removed overall ( i don’t like DNIs for myself ), as well as on this blog. all statements made in the DNI were what i felt to be true and based off of not only my experiences, but others’ as well, backed up with evidence i have saved that i didn’t feel the need to provide because it wasn’t meant to be a big deal, but i also felt i needed to explain why this person was on a DNI and that it wasn’t done out of malicious intent. again, if something sounds bad it is because “bad” things were done and i can’t control that.

reading the call-out had me ( and others ) confused on where it was i had bullied her, when i had her blocked since november, where it was i had manipulated her, and so forth. i’m always wanting to be a better person, so i was extremely confused on where i had done anything wrong. i also didn’t appreciate my new blog url being attached to it as it had nothing to do with it and i was trying to move forward, and it read very much like an attempt to blacklist. despite everything, i never wanted it to be a spectacle. the pinned, public call-out by this person doesn’t read to me as someone wanting to move on, but wanting to drag things further. this is not a call-out post, this is me defending myself. i will not name drop. if you know who this is about, i ask you just read this to understand the full story. 

this is going to be a long boi ( i really tried to keep it short but alkfjdklfksldf nope ). i would also like to apologize for any dryness here, but i am aiming to just state facts as they are. it feels    ----    ridiculous writing this all out because it’s something that could and should have been handled privately. but, here we go !!

everything on the DNI is true. i will not post or reveal the sources because one, they are not my stories to tell, and two, i am not going to give her the excuse to bother them. they deserve to be safe, and i am walking proof of what happens when you speak out against someone like her. if i have to bear that burden, then so be it. 

it stopped being about “just a url” a long time ago. it became more about how i was treated in that interaction, and how i was continued to be treated afterwards. not to mention the increasing tension within the rpc and having to second-guess whether or not i was truly wanted. it was about how it was affecting those around me, my time in a hobby i love, and my mental health. the amount of times a mutual has tagged me by accident when they meant to tag her is insane. it most definitely did not feel good !!! if that kept happening, it was a problem. i also had to shut off the anon feature because of the amount of anons i was receiving. some had good intentions, but others had resorted to hate. 

regarding the messages on discord --- i stand by them. i thought if you were friends with someone on discord and have previously talked over time, it was okay to message, otherwise what was the point of discord? i didn't realize it would make her uncomfortable to do so, and i’m more careful about how i approach people now !!! 

regarding the messages: there was no change in tone other than that i grew exhausted and extremely anxious ( shaking !!! palms sweaty !!! knees weak !!!! mom’s spaghetti !!! ) and wasn’t in the proper mindset to sound happy while i was being invalidated to my face. i have even apologized there if i came off as mean. i don’t “present myself” in a way. that’s just how i talk, i prefer communicating one-on-one and i try to alleviate tension that arises no matter what because these types of conversations aren’t always a walk in the park. i wanted things to be good and not stressful for all parties involved. i’m sorry my tone came off as insincere. after being in desc rpc for a year, i was a little surprised seeing a near-identical url so i think it was fair for me to message her about it. she made the decision use it, and i was allowed to react. it was said misspellings in urls made her anxious so i wanted to help and i was shot down and vilified, essentially told i made her feel unsafe and shouldn’t have messaged. if it wasn’t okay to claim i felt “unsafe” and “paranoid”, why was it okay for her to claim the same based on a choice she made herself, but not me to feel anxious about those choices? 

i have never told a blog to block her. i have never initiated conversation about her, nor have i spoken negatively about her as a person. ever. i have, in fact, even stated that i didn’t want anyone blocking and that it would be okay to interact. here’s one example after i was approached about her. i cannot control what other people do.

hardblocking her on my end was to avoid seeing her on dash as much as possible. 

i am allowed to softblock / unfollow people who interact with her after months of trying to be okay with it. what kickstarted this process was someone i thought was a close friend had dropped me and suddenly i realized i didn’t need to sacrifice my comfort for the sake of keeping a mutual. if they could do it, so could i. while i adore the descendants rpc, the rpc is not a family, we’re not obligated to interact IC or be mutuals with every single person in the rpc. it’s not causing a rift when we don’t interact on dash. i have even emphasized that i would love to stay in contact via discord and write there if possible !! why am i being vilified for trying to make my blog a safe space for me?

regarding the “vagues”: they were all responses. a mutual wrote the post, i reblogged it, my tags were in response to the post ( said mutual’s url wasn’t even blocked out so ... ). if it felt like a vague, i can’t control that. the meaning behind the url post was circulating on dash, i didn’t see any vaguing in it other than me recounting my process of choosing this url, which was true ( was i not allowed to participate?? ). the shrek meme was in response to a public dash event ( which i originally thought was a joke ) that had received copious amounts of criticism for. it wasn’t a vague and it was explicit on what it was referring to, it was meant to be silly dash commentary, nothing deep. 

this is in my rules but i have explicitly stated that my headcanons about my characters are not a vague if they differ from yours. the talk about hair styles was actually initiated in a conversation with my friends in private. it had absolutely nothing to do with her. if it sounded like a drag, i encourage everyone to look at how i’ve “dragged” many other things including the original outfits for descendants, evie thinking mermaid dresses are ugly, evie not liking wine, and so forth. my portrayal of evie =/= other portrayals of evie. while she may never do so-and-so, it doesn’t make it wrong for another portrayal to do it. ( why was my blog being kept tabs on and compared with, in the first place? that’s not duplicate friendly ).

regarding sex week: i've stated it was an inappropriate event because the descendants rpc had been heavily criticized for smutting and felt it wasn't the best response, nor was it the best way to promote sex positivity. it was insanely uncomfortable to witness, as someone in this rpc. it doesn’t matter if the people or the muses involved were adults, i would still call it inappropriate had it happened in any other rpc. it wasn’t a “block and move on” situation. i’m also allowed to defend myself because i didn’t want to be associated with something she posted. i didn’t want it tied to my url. i would like to clarify that when i said "embarrassing" in the responses under that anon, it was directed at the anon for misreading the url, nobody else. ostracizing occurred when the descendants rpc was being added to DNIs because of sex week / smutting, which was posted by this person ( if you post it, you start it. simple ). i had been blocked simply because i am a descendants blog and that had never happened before. 

i was also notified that people uninvolved with this have been namedropping me on dash in an attempt to have me “written off” ( their words, not mine ) because my rules stated that i was open to exploring evie’s sexuality. below is a screenshot of my rule regarding smut. i deleted the rules page from this blog when i moved so i snatched it from my other canon descendants blog that i reuse on all blogs. the second is my elaboration on sexual content in my new evie rules. the third is what’s on my google doc, a condensed version of my rules. there is a major difference between smutting and posting a public dash event dedicated to sex versus being open to explore sexuality as a topic. they are not the same. also, me not choosing to smut does not dictate my opinion on smut, so do not make assumptions about that either. if you want to move on, why are you still talking about me on dash, especially when unprompted? if you just want to move on, why are you upset that i’m not “written off”?

this person has vagued me multiple times ( which they conveniently did not show in the call-out ), this person has been shown to talk badly of me in private ( and now, publicly as well )    ----    all of which i have not done. i have screenshots sent by others to show for it, but do not feel it’s relevant to share because this is not about her. this is just about defending myself. 

i have spent three months apologizing for feeling things, apologizing for reacting, apologizing for things i should not have been apologizing for. i have spent so long accepting blame because i felt it would help. i’m done doing that. i know what i did and what i didn’t do. people know what i did and didn’t do.

all in all, i am confused on why a call-out was made when the content provides nothing other than catty remarks meant to air out personal drama. the messages exchanged only show how i tried to remedy things. the screenshots of my “vagues” were just responses, and most of which had nothing to do with this person. my initial silly dash commentary and later discomfort over a sexual dash event posted by this person is not a vague. 

if you ( referring to maker of the call-out and others who partook ) are upset about people not talking about me in regards to the “rest of the call-out”, maybe consider the fact that there was nothing about me in it that warranted a call-out in the first place. people saw that i did nothing wrong. the only thing of substance in the call-out was something the maker themselves did : the public, sexual dash event. people are allowed to identify that as a more prominent issue as opposed to how my messages or public posts could be perceived through basic, biased narrative manipulation.

me deciding to unfollow / softblock blogs that interact with this person =/= involving the descendants rpc or making it public. i am allowed to softblock whoever i want to cultivate my dash experience. most people i know have it in their rules that they are okay with people softblocking for their comfort and that it won’t be taken personally. you know what IS making it public and involving the entire descendants rpc? this person messaging a descendants server and name dropping me in the server, reducing the situation to just being about a “url” and publicly announcing it in the server. here are the facts to consider: her message was sent jan. 21. my DNI went up feb 2. 

so, regarding the call-out: there was no bullying, no manipulation, no harassment, no gaslighting, nothing from my end, and the call-out shows precisely that the claims are just that: claims. whatever was felt is valid, but feelings =/= gravity of the actual action itself - the most common thing pointed out in therapy: feelings are valid, but are they justified? call-outs should be reserved for people who cause actual harm, not because someone wants an excuse to blacklist. if i am a “bully” for unfollowing blogs for my own comfort, then i think the rpc really needs to reevaluate what these terms mean because the misuse is harmful. 

here are the things i did do: treated everyone i talked to with respect. approached things civilly. communicated. tried to accommodate for others. attempted to make a safe space for myself. did not involve the entire rpc by announcing it in a server. did not make a call-out post nor pin it. did not continue to name drop afterwards despite claiming to want to move on.

this entire situation is absurd and should have never been public, much less made a call-out for !! while this was meant to defend myself and state facts, i understand it may not change minds. a friend has told me that people will hate me because they want to hate me, no matter what. and i can’t do anything about that !! all i have to say is that holding hate in your heart never ends well. i hope everyone can find peace at some point.

so please, let me move on. let me write with my friends. let me unfollow / softblock people to keep my dash comfortable. let me take a break from descendants while also having the choice to return at anytime. please stop talking about me when i’m not even giving this another thought and haven’t since i moved blogs. please stop name dropping. stop keeping tabs on me, stop stalking my new blog. please leave me alone. i hold absolutely nothing against anyone i may have softblocked / unfollowed or am not currently interacting with on my new blog. my IMS / discord is always available, you will not be violating my safety by messaging me, everyone is welcome, but i also understand if you feel the need to separate yourself !!! as for those of you who have interacted with the call-out post, i wish you the best but i hope you understand why i do not want to interact with you by any means in the future. 

i’m hoping this post lays everything to rest, seeing as my first one did not. honestly, what are you trying to prove if you still have to post about this? it helps nobody. this back-and-forth is exhausting and unneeded. no more. let’s be better people, yeah?

i hope everyone takes care of themselves, i hope you all have a great day / night !!! thank you for reading this long boi !!

[yahargul]

i feel like the mxtx critical crowd doesn’t know what being critical towards your interests actually means??? like every piece of media is flawed in some way & different people are gonna like/dislike different things, so naturally everyone is critical of the things they enjoy to some extent. but literally everytime i come across one of the mxtx critical ppl in the mdzs & tgcf fandoms they’re always just the most self-flagellating people ever and it’s.... just embarrassing.... 😬 like for a group of people who are so dead set on criticizing pretty much every aspect of a piece of media they supposedly enjoy at least somewhat, they really have zero critical thinking skills lol. i’ve seen some of them say that they wish they never discovered mdzs or tgcf and at that point it’s like okay then why the fuck do u have a blog dedicated to this piece of media. like y’all need to move on bc you clearly aren’t having a good time 😭 my god just watch or read something else!

LITERALLYYYYYYY like yes you can and should criticize the media you consume but if your criticisms are made from baseless assumptions, lack of understanding about the genre you're reading, lack of cultural understanding, or utter misinterpretations that go completely against what's actually in the text no i'm not taking you seriously. its especially hilarious when the mxtx crit crowd will post a clip or line from an adaptation and go 'the adaptation actually gives the character depth and personality' and its just. a scene DIRECTLY taken from the novels.

its also very weird to me that people are only doing this with chinese creators. i see people blog about plenty of imperfect media and i think most people with common sense understand one can like a thing and be critical of it but for some reason we gotta single out these anonymous chinese women for what exactly. to let everyone know that you think you're too good to like the thing you're constantly talking about?? who is forcing you to be here? i especially side eye white people who go on and on about how much they hate mxtx to the point of wishing physical harm on her but refuse to stop obsessing about her works, sitting here pretending that cql sprouted up out of the ground and trying to remove any association mxtx has with her own creation so they can keep consuming her content guilt free its so fucking weird?? like okay why are you obsessed with a specific genre created for and by chinese people and going out of your way to demonize chinese creators. actually lets go a bit further why are you so convinced chinese women are your enemy why are you so convinced they are malicious why are you so convinced that you understand the works better than the people who wrote it?? these people calling mxtx a fetishist while cql blogging maybe should look in the mirror first

[quarantined-with-bucky]

Shopping

Bodyguard!Bucky x Reader

Request: Hi! May I ask for a hc or scenario in wich Bucky falls for the reader who has a "spoiled brat" stereotype...u know? Like a Regina George from Mean Girls type of attitude, Maybe the reader is the daughter of someone important who Bucky needs to protect idk I thought it could be quite fun, anyway...loved your writing so much in "Dichotomy" ❤

Words: ~ 4,500

Summary: Bucky’s paid to be your bodyguard and you’re, well, kind of a bitch.

Warnings: None! For once ;)

...

There is three things men want in life.

1.     They want to see if they can fuck you.

2.     They want to see if they can fuck you over.

3.     They want to get you out the fucking picture.

That was simply a fact of life. It was especially accurate in the world you grew up in: the world of powerful men, fast cars, vast mansions, and extravagant wardrobes. There was something about everyone’s cut-throat attitude that also seemed to drag along these luxuries. It was all about showing off: who had the most expensive car, whose house was bigger – whose wife was hotter.

This is the climate you grew up in: constant competition, envious friends, malicious enemies. There was a certain image you were expected to maintain, so you did exactly that. Not only did you have the weight of one day taking over your father’s company on your shoulders, you had the paparazzi stalking your every move. There wasn’t a single moment of peace in your life. You couldn’t go to the mall or the grocery store without at least one picture of you showing up on Daily Mail.

You’d grown up with it and, for the most part, you didn’t have to do things like that anyway. There was always someone to do those menial tasks for you.

Until you moved out of your parents’ house. You finally graduated college; a twenty-something kid finally ready to jump into the world on your own two feet. You were eagerly awaiting your move into your New York City apartment – a swanky two-bedroom on the top floor of a building in Soho.

Everything was going swimmingly well until you had an altercation with paparazzi. It was hard to navigate the narrow streets and sidewalks of the city, and as you were meeting your friend at a restaurant, you found it was a little too easy for the cameramen to push you around on the street. However, while you were thinking more along the lines of a restraining order against them, your father had other ideas.

“No way,” you interrupted, holding your hands up to your father. “That’s not happening.”

He raised his eyebrows at you. “It is happening. Unless you want this to happen again.” He tossed the stack of newspapers onto your dining table, the photo of you on the front page sliding across the table towards you. The title read “(Y/N) Falters – Will She Fumble Daddy’s Company?” You bit the inside of your cheek, the photo immortalized you trying to push past the group of people photographing your every step, the bright flashes causing you to hold your hands in front of your eyes. “This won’t be happening again.”

…

That’s how you met Bucky. At first, it was nice to have him around. He shook your hand once as he introduced himself. It was months before he even said anything else to you. He stood posted up in the doorway of every room you walked into. He wore a smart looking suit ever day, the top few buttons of his shirt undone to show off his tanned muscles underneath.

He walked you to restaurants, taking the lead, keeping the paparazzi at a far distance away from you. He followed you around shopping, carrying your Gucci, Dior, and Balenciaga bags to your car for you. God, it was a dream. What was even dreamier were his eyes. Before anyone approached you to speak with you, he stopped them, turning his head to look at you for your nod of approval before letting them past. And holy fuck those two seconds of fleeting eye contact made you absolutely melt. You almost started scheduling unnecessary appointments into your schedule just so he could face you again for confirmation. You stared back at him as seductively as possible, eyes half lidded, glossy, staring back at him and tilting your head in the slightest nod.

That was the only time he ever acknowledged you. That, and when he opened your car door for you. He never said much – if anything – at all. But his presence was so demanding: his shoulders were so broad, his chest constantly puffed out, his jaw clenched, and eyebrows narrowed in challenge. It took every bit of willpower not to jump his bones.

…

You had a certain mentality when it came to work. There was a certain image to be portrayed. You always dressed to the nines: a fitted suit, usually Balmain or Chanel, complete with gold jewelry and tall heels. Your makeup was done every day: a neutral pallet, something that unsuspecting peers would assume to be natural. Your hair was always perfectly in place: either cascading smoothly down your back or pinned neatly into a bun. Not only were you running the company, but you were also the face of the company.

You walked around with your head held high, shoulders back, and with determination in your step. People watched you as you walked down the hallway. Maybe some in admiration, others envy, even a few with desire. You always heard their whispers, though.  

Bucky walked in-toe with you always remaining a cool two steps behind you; you could feel his gaze burning into the back of his head. You entered your office, Bucky taking his usual post by the door. You plopped down in your large leather chair, preparing yourself for your meeting.

Your morning got progressively worse as the meetings progressed, people not cooperating, work not being done, no conflicts getting resolved. As you last meeting ended, and the particularly patronizing man left your office, you couldn’t hold back muttering a “fucking prick” as the door shut behind him.

Bucky pinched is lips together, holding back a smirk. You reclined in your chair, watching him regain his poise quickly, eyes not moving from the fixed position on the wall in front of him. “You know, James,” you spoke up, instantly getting his attention. “That was my last meeting today; you can sit, if you’d like.” You gestured to the seating area across the room.

He nodded in thanks, strutting across the room and sitting on the black couch in front of you. All you wanted was to join him on the couch. The things you could do to him on that couch – the things he could do to you on that couch. “You can call me Bucky,” he stated, reclining against the back, legs spreading open a tad bit.

You nodded stiffly and bit your bottom lip, unable to tear your eyes away from his splayed posture. “Bucky,” you whispered, testing his name on your tongue. And, damn, it tasted good.

You snapped yourself out of your fixation, pulling your laptop in front of you, pretending to work as you couldn’t get that image out of your head. The face that you could still see his propped-up figure over the top of your laptop screen; his eyes had not drifted from your person.

…

Your were temporarily blinded, gripping the back of Bucky’s jacket as he pushed through the crowd of people, shoving open the door to the lobby of your apartment. Calling the elevator, he watched as you smoothed down the ends of your hair, trying to rub the light spots out of your eyes as best you could without smudging mascara all over your face. He ushered you in once the doors opened, holding a hand lightly to your waist.

You dropped your back against the shiny elevator walls, crossing your arms over your chest and staring at the reflection on the wall in front of you. You looked tired, makeup wearing off under your eyes, purple circles under your eyes becoming prominent; a few flyaways framed your face, curling and unruly. The doors opened and you pushed your way through before Bucky. You shoved open the apartment door, throwing your purse on the table, viciously kicking of your heels. You heard Bucky shut the door softly and he paused before entering the kitchen behind you.

Today had been effectively one of the worst days of your life. Work was terrible: your day was run with meetings and disrespectful colleagues, bulldozing over all your ideas and suggestions; it rained during lunch, completely ruining the Coach heels you were wearing to attend the business luncheon; afterwards was much worse. You were highlighted in the issue of Forbes Magazine. You’d been waiting for this for months: you’d done multiple interviews, had photoshoots, the whole nine yards. You were excited for the world to see the underlying factors of what made you you; for them to finally recognize not only your past academic achievements, but also all you have accomplished thus far with the company, for them to see that you were capable – qualified – to run this company.

Boy were you hopeful.

You were met, in fact, with quite the opposite.

Waves upon waves of criticism washed upon you after the release. You were met with all kinds of backtalk: everything from you inheriting the company, to being accepted into college because of your dads’ money, to “stick to makeup, honey.” People began commenting on how they thought you walked all over people, how you rarely seemed friendly in the workplace, how you “used men.”

It couldn’t be more the opposite.

While you liked to maintain a certain image and always have a presentable appearance, despite any men or women that sought after you, you’d turned them downs. In fact, you’d never had a boyfriend – let alone any friends.

You worked hard to retain a respectable image. The problem with working and living in a dog-eat-dog world is the sacrifices you had to make to maintain such an image. You couldn’t simply allow people to walk all over you – achieving this took years. You had to speak up in times others would cower, use your voice when there was an issue other did not seem to care about. You had to walk with your head held high and your shoulders back.

Once you obtained dominance in the workplace, you had to conquer the world of love. It could make you gag. You wanted to intimidate the men that once patronized you. You wanted them to want you, fight over you, worship you. But you’d ever let them have you. Nobody could see you vulnerable, nobody could love you, touch you, blackmail you. That’s the way it had to be.

But you couldn’t always be so ruthless. Right now, you leaned against the counter, dropping your hands onto the cold marble surface. It was one of those days like today where everything got the best of you. Everyone tore you apart, you’d spent the last half of the day just reading tweets about yourself.

“She looks like such a bitch.”

“Would it kill her to smile? Not the kind of boss I’d want to work for.”

“My friend worked for her and said she has everyone else do her work for her.”

“Forbes, is this issue recognizing daddy’s money?”

Bucky placing a mug next to you pulled you out of your thoughts. You stared down at the steaming mug, Bucking suddenly speaking up: “maybe if you drank something, you’d feel better.”

You pushed past him, shoving him away from you as you headed to your bedroom. God, all you wanted was to be alone. Did he have to be here every second of the day? All you wanted was silence and he picks this one time to start babying you? You slammed the door shut, the sound echoing throughout the vast apartment. You stripped your nice clothes, opting for a shower and large t-shirt for bed.

Bucky sat in the living room, listening to you shuffle around your bedroom. He finally stood, ready to head home, when he heard the softest sound come from you bedroom. A sniffle. Followed by another.

He leaned against the doorframe, listening to the noises that he’d never heard from you before – hell, he never thought you were capable of that emotion. He weighed his options carefully: go inside and comfort you, it didn’t seem like you had a lot of close friends or even family that checked in on you, you must’ve felt so alone, and everyone attacking you definitely didn’t feel nice; he could leave and let you deal with this on you own – which is probably what you wanted, considering he knew how long it took you to create your façade. However, Bucky could see right through it – he could always see through it. No matter how intimidating and powerful you wanted yourself to be, he and everyone else knew that you were a spoilt brat trying to live up to daddy’s expectations, but only he knew that at your deepest core, you were a tired, lonely, sad little girl, wishing for just one day of invisibility, in which nobody knew who you were, nobody care about you – like you didn’t exist.

…

You and Bucky continued your usual routines from then on, nothing changed. He didn’t talk to you; you didn’t talk to him. He spent his time pushing people out of your way, and you went along pretending nobody existed.

It was two weeks after that when you spoke to him for the third time. You and Bucky were walking from the parking garage to your place. That’s when a masked man came out from behind you and grabbed a hold of your purse. You helped in surprise as he tried to run past you, one hand loosely gripping your Birkin. Before you could even turn to the direction he ran off in, Bucky’s hand hit him square in the jaw. You gasped, holding your hands up to your open mouth as Bucky knelt on top of the man, continuously hitting him and holding him down.

You saw a flash simmer as you saw Bucky’s hand move, holding the other man to the sidewalk. Metal? Did he have a prosthetic arm? When did that happen? And why didn’t you ever notice it before?

In the mixture of bystanders, paparazzi, and doormen, the police quickly pushed through. Bucky was relieved of his post as the man was taken away. The policeman escorted the two of you to the lobby, where he took the information and returned your purse to you.

Eventually, Bucky took you upstairs to your floor. “Are you okay,” he asked, following you through the door.

You nodded, turning around to face him – face his arm. You stared at it, the metal coils formed in the shape of  a perfect hand, winding upwards all the way up to where his shirt sleeve was pushed up past his elbow. It shimmered in the soft lighting, reflecting the moonlight that cascaded in through your windows. He held his hands behind his back, tilting his jaw upwards slightly as he stared you down. Your eyes flitted to his narrow ones; his eyebrows narrowed between pieces of dark hair that fell over his forehead. “Yeah,” you muttered. “Yes,” you clarified, clearing your throat.

“Do you need me to stay with you? Or are you fine for the night?”

You bit the inside of your cheek, shifting your weight from one foot to another. “Stay?” It came out more of a question than you expected.  He nodded, not moving any other muscle. You quickly thought of something to break the silence and pulled your phone from your bag. “Takeout?”

He cracked a smile, nodding again. “Sounds good.”

After calling it in, you shifted away to the kitchen as Bucky sat in the living room. You didn’t know what to do to fill the silence. You’d never talked to him. You fumbled around with a wine bottle, popping it open and taking a long pull straight from the bottle before heading towards Bucky with two glasses. Hopefully some liquid courage would kick in quickly. You poured him a glass, another for yourself, and sat beside him on the plush sofa.

It was quiet. It was awkward.

“Thank you for, y’know,” you murmured over the rim of your wine glass, eyes falling to the red liquid swirling in your glass.

“No problem, it’s my job,” he replied casually. “To protect you.” You nodded; lips pressed tight in a line. You looked around the room, trying to find anything to look at. Your gaze landed on the metal arm propped up on the side of the couch. “You wanna take a picture of it, doll?” He chuckles lightly, tapping his fingers on the fabric of the sofa.

“Oh!” You snapped out of your gaze, jumping slightly on the couch. “Sorry – I didn’t mean to stare, I just – just – ” you stuttered over your words, reaching out slightly towards him.

He smiled, genuinely smiled this time, tongue running over his bottom lip. “It’s okay, (Y/N) – ” your name sounded so good on his lips “ – you can touch it, if you want.” Touch it? Touch what? You nearly started salivating. Then he held his hand out to you, palm facing upwards, fingers outstretched. You held your hand out, brushing his metal palm with the tips of your fingers. He chuckled again, flipping your hand around and holding your own hand in his. He ran his metal fingers over the backs of your knuckles. It was cold, yet so much softer than you expected.

Your eyes flitted up to meet his blue ones, already staring back at you. He licked his lips and leaned ever so slightly towards you. Your breath hitched in the back of your throat as you stared at him with wide eyes and mouth agape. “See, that’s not so bad, right?” He whispered, gaze shifting from your eyes to your lips, tinged red from the wine.

You held your breath, leaning the rest of the way in, shutting your eyes.

Then you hit a brick wall.

A metal wall.

Your eyes snap open to see Bucky’s metal hand gripping your shoulder, holding you in place. “Look, (Y/N) – ” there he goes with your name, again “ – I didn’t mean to send any signals…” he trailed off, dropping his hand and pushing himself up to his feet. Signals? No, of course not. Just holding my hand, staring lustfully into my eyes, and looking at my lips. Not to mention licking his own. You almost rolled your eyes. “I’m sorry,” he sighed.

You did roll your eyes, standing with him. “It’s…” you trailed off. Save face. “Whatever.” You turned away, shuffling to the front door, pulling it open.

He left without another word, but not without stopping to look into your eyes – at least, he tried to, if it hadn’t been for you dropping your whole head, staring blankly at the floor. You slammed the door behind him, nearly nicking his back heel as he stepped into the corridor.

Well, that was perfectly embarrassing. The best way to end such a terrible day. Utter embarrassment. You didn’t know how you were supposed to face him tomorrow.

Sadness turned into anger as you threw his wine glass directly into the sink, watching as the glass shards flew across the countertops. Who did he think he was? That he could act like that and then throw it back in your face? His signals were perfectly clear. In fact, you were haunted by those signals all night.

By the touch of his skin.

By his blue eyes.

…

You didn’t sleep that night. Instead, spent your time getting ready all morning. Hair perfectly set down your back, eyes surrounded by sultry makeup, a ferocious looking contour. You put on your tallest heels, tightest dress, and shiniest jewelry.

You looked ravenous.

Bucky knocked on your front door, as he did every morning to take you to work. You slung your bag over your shoulder, took a deep breath, and swung open the door. You looked straight past him; eyes directed on the elevator doors in front of you. You walked directly past him, relying on him to shut the door behind you.

Your heart was racing, it took all of your willpower not to twitch or tap your foot as you waited for the elevator. You set your jaw and stood stonewalled.

That’s how the day went: you completely ignoring Bucky. Although you normally ignored Bucky, today you didn’t look at him, thank him when he opened the door for you, nothing. Not even sparing a glance as he stared at you from his position on the sofa in your office. There he sat, usually splayed out and legs open; you could feel him staring at you. All you wanted to do was run into the women’s bathroom and sit there all day – anywhere would be better than here with him.

That’s how the weekend went, too: you spent the first six days ignoring him. Today was Saturday and you wanted to go shopping. Not the normal shopping. Today was all about showing Bucky that if you wanted something, you got it.

Again sporting the skimpiest outfit you could manage, you dragged Bucky around shopping all day. By your fifth store, your feet were absolutely killing you from walking so far in these heels, but it was worth it to torture Bucky. He carried all of your bags – from your purse, to you shopping bags, to even your coat. And nothing pissed him off more than you waiting at the register, the person behind the counter ringing up your literal tens-of-thousands of dollars’ worth of clothes, shoes, and bags, clicking your tongue and holding your hand out for your wallet. You tapped your foot, continuing your light conversation with the employee, waiting for Bucky to drop the heavy wallet into your palm. Without a turn of your head or even a thank you, you finished the transaction, walking through the door immediately, leaving Bucky to take your purchases.

This is what he deserved after embarrassing you like that. Was he just so nice to see where you’d take it? Did he want you to try to kiss him, just so he could say no? Just so he could turn you down? To be the one guy you wanted – and never got? Maybe he was going to sell the story. He was just like any other guy – but then why wouldn’t he kiss you? And the thought replayed in your mind, as did that night’s events. You had no other choice but to continue shopping and dragging him around.

Oh, he was pissed.

A fucking bagman? That’s how you saw him? That night was probably the calmest he’d ever seen you. You seemed nervous, even. Nervous because of his arm? Yes, he would’ve loved nothing more than to have you in the palm of his hand – literally – he would’ve loved to kiss you, and touch you, and hold you. He couldn’t take advantage of you like that. Not in your most vulnerable moment. After the robbery, you mind must’ve been scrambled. He wasn’t sure if that was your way of thanking him. He wasn’t about to let you throw yourself on him – who knows how you would’ve felt the next day.

But that’s not how you saw it, and you weren’t about to let him explain.

And this show you were putting on for him? He wasn’t dumb; he would’ve had to be oblivious to not know you were showing off for him. These skimpy outfits and tight dresses, necklaces that ended just at the top of your cleavage, skirts that ended just at the curve of your ass – he loved every minute of it. But he wanted you ­­out of it at the same time.

You were treating him like shit, which he didn’t enjoy. He could’ve stopped by now: dropped all your shit and walked right out of the store. Instead, he clenched his jaw, bit his tongue, and followed you around the block, holding your bags; the only saving grace was getting to walk behind you and stare at your shaking ass all day.

…

You pushed the apartment door open, barely holding it open long enough for Bucky to slip through, carrying bags lined up his arms. You heard the crinkling of some of the paper bags as the door shut on him. He took one step in, letting the door fall shut, then dropped everything to the floor nicely.

“No,” you said, not looking up from your cell phone. You pointed a finer across the room. “Bedroom.”

A sharp laughed cracked through the silence. You almost flinched, starting at Bucky cackling loudly at you. “That’s not my job.”

You stared at him, narrowing your eyes in challenge. “Excuse me?”

He crossed his arms over his chest, shit-eating-grin unfaltering. “You heard me, princess.”

You didn’t move. Instead, you took a step backwards as he approached you. He walked towards you until you were backed up against the kitchen counter. You mimicked his arms, crossing them over your own chest, inadvertently pushing your cleavage up – which you noticed when you saw his eyes flit down for the tiniest second before returning to your own eyes, a tinge of pink lacing his cheeks – not that he cared. “Don’t fucking call me that,” you spat, tilting your chin up. You were not intimidated by him.

He got so close that your pelvises were nearly touching. He leaned down, dropping his hands to the countertop on either side of you, his lips barely grazing the shell of your ear as he bent closer. “What do you want me to call you, baby?”

God, you looked so real in that moment. Caught off guard, maybe. But your usual forced scowl was replaced by your surprised expression, eyebrows raised, mouth slightly ajar, tongue tucked right where your two plump lips meet. You were holding your breath, he could tell. He liked you like this, better. When you weren’t trying to be all hard and intimidating, when you didn’t know how to react – couldn’t deal with these emotions because just this once, they were real.

You stumbled over your words, mind suddenly not processing anything. His stubble rubbed ever so lightly over your jaw, his breath tickling your neck. You didn’t know how long you were standing there. It felt like forever since either of you said anything.

Suddenly, he pulled away – just like before. You released your breath, about to speak and then –

He grabbed your face in both hands (one warm to the touch, the other cold from the marble) and held you so that you eyes gazed up at him. His blue eyes looking back into yours, a smile pulling at one corner of his lips. He pulled your head upwards, leaning his own down, meeting in the middle in a soft, tender kiss. He shrugged, letting himself fully tilt into the kiss, hips touching each other’s; you swung your arms around his neck, pulling yourself up to him, chest pressing against his.

God, you could get used to this.

And all it took was a little shopping.

[takerfoxx]

In response to JK Rowling and Joss Whedon, my (former) idols

I really didn’t want to have to do this.

So in addition to…=gestures vaguely=…all of that, the last few months have been kind of sucky when it comes to learning some really unpleasant things about artists that I looked up to, admired, and was in fact inspired by. I’ve already spoken about the Speaking Out movement revealing a lot of ugly behavior from various wrestlers, some of which I was big fans of, and then later we got Chris Jericho being a full-on MAGA. Yeah, that all sucked. But those were just performers whose work I enjoyed watching. The one that really hurt were writers who I deeply admired, whose stories I love, and who I was heavily influenced by.

The first, of course, was finding out that JK Rowling, the author of perhaps the single biggest YA fantasy series of all time Harry Potter, is a TERF. This really sucked for a number of reasons. Firstly, I really like Harry Potter! I mean, I’m not a super fan or anything. I came into it when things were kind of dying down, like the whole book series had already been released and there were only a few movies left, but I still really enjoyed it, have all the books and movies and a fair amount of merchandise swag, including a nifty wand I got at Universal Studios. Shit, I got two replicas of the Sword of Griffyindor, thanks to them screwing up my order in my favor and sending me a duplicate! They’re on my wall right across from me as I type this!

But in addition to writing a book series I really liked, JK Rowling was supposed to be one the good guys. She’s been vocally progressive, often openly comes down on British right-wing nonsense, has supported various persecuted minorities, and is on record as being one of the few self-made billionaires to actually stop being a billionaire for a time because she donated so much money to charity. And while we mock it now, her revealing Dumbledore as gay was a huge deal at the time. Plus, she cultivated this reputation as Auntie Jo, that cool, supportive aunt we all wanted.

But for a while her stock has been dropping. Her preference for confirming “representation” via tweets instead of explicitly putting it in the text of her stories has raised the question of queer-baiting, especially with a whole-ass movie with a young Dumbledore and Grindelwald to make their relationship explicit but failing to do so. The whole Nagini thing from the latest Fantastic Beasts movie was pretty gross. And re-examination of various problematic elements from the original novels has rubbed a lot of people the wrong way. Now, none of these really looked to be intentionally malicious, of course. Just about everyone’s early work will have problematic elements; that’s just how people work. And the later stuff smacked more of ignorance than anything. But after all this time, it’s like, c’mon. You should know better by now.

But the biggie came when her transphobic views finally came to light. Now, this one had been brewing for a while, due to some questionable likes and statements on her twitter. But then she decided to just go public and published what essentially amounts to a TERF manifesto, one with a very “love the sinner, hate the sin” condescending attitude and had a real persecution complex air to it.

Now, I’m not going to go into detail about what the manifesto was about, what the circumstances surrounding it were, or how wrong it was. It’s already been raked over the coals, dissected, answered, and debunked in detail by people far more qualified than me, so odds are, you’re already well aware of its contents and the subsequent rebuttals. But the gist of it comes down to her basically believing that transwomen are actually cis men claiming to be trans so as to infiltrate and invade female-only spaces.

Yeah.

Okay, that’s gross, but…why? Why is someone so noted for being progressive and wanting to foster an inclusive environment making this the hill of exclusion that she wants to die on?

Well, that’s where things get tricky. She mentions that prior to Harry Potter, her first marriage was highly physically and sexually abusive, and when she escaped from that, she had no place to go, leading her to be homeless for a time.

Oh.

Well, that makes sense. Someone goes through a highly traumatic experience with a member of the opposite sex, has no support structure when she escapes it, is left to fend for herself, only to suddenly get rocketed into fame, fortune, and influence, which in turn leads to a Never Again mentality. She was hurt, no one was there to help her, and now she’s afraid of men invading women-only spaces to victimize others like she was victimized. So…literally transphobic. Literally a Trans Exclusionary Radical Feminist.

Guys, this is so fucked up. Like, how do you even approach something like this? She’s a victim in every sense of the word, so of course she’s going to have physiological damage and a warped view of things. I mean, if I found out that a close friend of mine went through the same thing and had the same prejudices, I would be nothing but sympathetic! I mean, I’d still do what I can to convince her to overcome those prejudices, but I’d still show sympathy and support for what she went through.

Abuse warps people. There’s a reason why so many abusers are abuse survivors themselves. It makes you terrified of being hurt again and often causes people to adopt toxic behaviors, beliefs, and reactions to protect themselves. I’ve already talked about it at length while discussing She-Ra and its own handling of the cycle of abuse, which included franks discussions of Catra’s horrible behavior, why she was the way she was, while never losing sympathy for her and rooting for her to overcome it. So if JK Rowling is an abuse survivor, is it really right to come down on her for having warped views because of that abuse?

But that’s the problem. See, she isn’t your troubled friend that you’re trying to help. She isn’t your cousin Leslie who’s a really sweet person but unfortunately adopted some bad ideals due to trauma suffered. She JK freakin’ ROWLING, one of the most famous, wealthy, and influential women in the world. She has a platform of millions, if not billions, which means her voice lends credibility to her bigoted beliefs. Alt-righters and other TERFs have already swooped upon this for giving validation to their awful beliefs, which puts trans people even more at risk. And as horrible as Rowling’s experiences might have been, the trans community is often the victim of far worse, and they don’t have a mountain of money and an army of defenders to protect them like she does. I’ve said it time and time again: just because you’re a victim, that doesn’t give you the right to victimize others! And bringing things back to Catra, as much as I loved her redemption in the final season, she was still a TERRIBLE PERSON for a huge chunk of the show, one that needed to be stood up to and stopped.

So yeah. That’s the messiness that is JK Rowling.

Now, let’s talk about the one that really hurts. Let’s talk about Joss Whedon.

I’ve made no secret of what a huge Whedon fan I am. Unlike Rowling, I was a HUUUUUGE superfan. Seeing Serenity for the first time in theaters was akin to a religious awakening to me as a storyteller, making it one of my top three movies of all time. Firefly is my favorite show ever. And I adored Buffy, Angel, and Dollhouse as well. I love Cabin in the Woods and The Avengers. The very first fanfic I ever wrote was a Firefly fanfic that disappeared along with my old laptop. I know his style isn’t for everyone, but I cannot understate how much of a personal inspiration he is to me as a writer.

And like Rowling, Joss was supposed to be one of the good guys! Buffy was monumental in pushing the needle when it came to female empowerment. Will and Tara were groundbreaking as a gay couple. He’s been outspoken for years about his feminist views and beliefs and was seen as one of the most prominent and influential feminist voices in Hollywood!

And then things started to go bad.

One day he was on top of the world, the mastermind behind the first two Avenger movies. And the next, it seemed like he was in freefall. It’s hard to really pinpoint exactly when the change took place. Some would say him being brought in as a last-minute substitute for Zack Snyder to take over on Justice League after Snyder had to leave due to family tragedy, and the subsequent awful critical reception to that film tarnishing his image, even if those were very unique circumstances that couldn’t really be blamed on him. Others might point to Age of Ultron’s less than stellar reception, as well as criticism of some questionable jokes and certain creative decisions regarding the character of Black Widow, which then led to a more critical examination of how Whedon continues to write female characters, as while his work might have been revolutionary in the 90’s, his failure to evolve with the times had meant that many of his portrayals are now woefully outdated and problematic, with his vision for a Batgirl movie getting hit with a lot of backlash as a result.

Again, I’m not going to go into too much detail, as this is all public knowledge and can be easily looked up, but overall it seemed that Whedon entered into a period where he was getting criticized more than he was celebrated, and his image of a guaranteed hit maker was now in doubt.

But all of this wasn’t the big problem. All creators go through rises and slumps, and everyone hits points where they get hit with a barrage of criticism; that’s just part of being a public creative figure, especially a progressive one. And had nothing happened after, it would have probably faded, got forgotten, and Whedon would have moved onto the next project with no fuss.

But as it turned out, it wasn’t just a minor slump in his career. Instead, it was the priming of the pump.

In 2016, Whedon divorced his wife of sixteen years, Kai Cole, and in an open letter, Kai Cole accused him of being a serial cheater, who would have affairs with a great many women, from co-workers, to actresses, to friends, to even his fans. And in addition to raising questions of him possibly abusing his position as showrunner to elicit sex from those working on his projects, there also is the ugly question of how could someone who speaks so highly of women then go and backstab the person who was supposed to be the most important woman in his life, as well as lying to her and denying her the autonomy of deciding whether or not she even wanted to continue to have a relationship with him?

Furthermore, Whedon himself has not explicitly denied these accusations, and comments made by him seem only to confirm them.

Now if you’ll recall, I reacted publicly to this news, and despite my admiration of Whedon’s work, I came down on Kai Cole’s side, and stated that while things like marriage issues and infidelity were no one’s business but that of the couple’s, it did raise a lot of uncomfortable questions about how Whedon treated the women in his life and he really needed to get his shit in order.

But hey, a messy private life and a guy falling into temptation isn’t that big of a deal, right? Plenty of creators also go through multiple marriages and have problems staying faithful and still continue making great art. We’re all human, it’s a stressful job, and this shit just happens, right? Sure, it’s gross and a shitty thing to do, but ain’t no business of ours, right?

In late 2020, actor Ray Fisher, who played the role of Cyborg in Justice League, openly accused Joss Whedon of fostering a hostile work environment, claiming that the director’s behavior was abusive and unprofessional, and that Whedon in turn was protected by DC executives.

DC and Warner Bros. came down against Fisher, claiming they had done an internal investigation that turned up no evidence of wrongdoing (yeah, sure they did), and soon Fisher was out as Cyborg, apparently for rocking the boat.

But then Charisma Carpenter, noted for her important role as Cordelia Chase in both Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel, then spoke up, claiming to be inspired by Fisher in doing so. She described Whedon did indeed foster a hostile work environment on his projects, that his often acted in a toxic manner, from asking incredibly invasive and inappropriate questions regarding her pregnancy to insulting her on set. She said that she made excuses for him for years, but after undergoing a lot of therapy and reading what Ray Fisher had to say, she felt compelled to speak out.

And this just open the floodgates. Other actors and actresses also came forward, some with stories of their own, others to offer support. Even Buffy herself, Sarah Michelle Gellar, confirmed Carpenter’s stories and said that she no longer wanted to be associated with Whedon. Michelle Trachtenberg, who played the character of Dawn, stated that she also experienced toxic treatment from Whedon despite her being a minor at the time, and says that the set had a rule that Whedon wasn’t allowed to be alone with her again, which really raises some sickening questions of what happened the first time. Even male stars have spoken out, from words of support and apologies for not speaking up earlier from Anthony Stewart Head and David Boreanaz, to an earlier interview with James Marsters, in which he described being terrified of Whedon, mainly due to an instance when Whedon was frustrated with the popularity of Marsters’s character of Spike messing with his plans and physically and verbally taking it out on the actor. There have been many corroborating stories of Whedon being casually cruel on set, on seemingly taking delight in making his fellow show writers cry, and even the man himself admitting to enjoying fostering a hostile work environment during his director commentary of the Avengers. We’ve joked about Whedon’s supposed sadism for years, but that was in regards to how he treated the characters in his stories, not the people helping him make them!

So yeah. That’s the problem with Joss Whedon.

So, do I think that Joss Whedon is somehow some kind of sociopath who lied about his feminist principles and deliberately put on a progressive façade specifically to get into a position of power so he could torment people? No, of course not. I think he was sincere about his beliefs, and I do think he didn’t realize the wrongness of his behavior. But that’s kind of the problem. See, it’s one thing to have kind of a trollishness to your nature, a sort of sadistic side. No one can help that. But when someone with that quality gets put into a position of power in which they are protected by both the higher-ups and their legions of fans, they are allowed to mistreat and continue to mistreat people. And by never suffering any consequences, that sort of toxic behavior becomes internalized, becomes a habit, becomes their moda operandi. And when you’re constantly getting praised as a creative genius and a wonderful feminist voice, any self-criticism just gets wiped away, and you think yourself above reproach, leading to what Joss Whedon became and went on being.

And you know what scares me the most about this particular issue? It’s not that I am a fan of his stories. It’s that I can so easily see myself turning out the same way.

Look, I’ll be upfront about it: I’m kind of a sadist myself. You’ve seen it in my stories, you’ve seen me gloating after a particularly dark plot twist makes my readers freak out. That sort of stuff is fun to me. There’s a reason why I have a much easier time in the dark and violent scenes, because I’m channeling something ugly within me. We all have a dark side, and this is mine.

But UNLIKE Whedon, that doesn’t carry over to how I treat people in real life (unless Monopoly or Mario Party are involved, then it’s fair game). Maybe it’s because I wasn’t given the sort of power and praise he did so early, and I was always taught to be considerate of other people’s feelings, but if I ever find out that I hurt another person or went too fair, I feel TERRIBLE, and it just throws me off all day until I apologize. Even if I don’t notice right away that what I said or did wasn’t cool (autistic, remember?), when it’s pointed out to me and I have some time to think on it, yeah, the guilt is on and I make a point to apologize to whoever I’ve hurt. I’ve even made a point to apologize to members of my family for inconsiderate stuff I said years ago as a little punk kid because it wouldn’t stop bugging me.

So maybe Whedon got too big, too fast. Maybe putting people on these sorts of pedestals, especially progressive ones, is ultimately a bad thing.

So where does this leave us? How are we to treat JK Rowling and Joss Whedon, one who developed a lot of transphobia due to abuse suffered while the other became a toxic individual due to unchecked control and a lack of consequences? Can we still enjoy their stories despite them now being colored by their creators’ falls from grace? Can we separate the art from the artist, or do we have to do a clean split?

Honestly, I feel that has to come down to the individual. I can’t remove the influence Rowling and Whedon have had on me as a storyteller, and I still highly respect both of their talents despite taking major issue with their problems as people. And I’m not going go throw away all of my Harry Potter or Firefly stuff. Because that’s my stuff. It has value to me, it doesn’t represent the issues with their creators, and a lot of it was gifts from people who are dear to me. Though I do think it’ll be a long time before I return to either of their work, as I just don’t have the stomach for it now.

But I will be avoiding any projects they have in the future. I don’t want to put money in their pockets that might go on to support their toxic beliefs or behavior. And as for royalties for their past work that would also support the cast and crew of the Harry Potter films or those who worked on Whedon’s shows who do not deserve to lose money because we don’t want any of that money going to the creators? Er, that question is a little above my paygrade. I don’t know. You’ll have to all decide for yourselves. As for me, I still have a lot of thinking to do.

Regardless though, if I or anyone else is still able to enjoy their work, then it’s important to not divorce what these people said or did from the art they created, even if it makes enjoying that art less fun. It’s important to be critical about what we enjoy, to acknowledge the bad aspects along with the good, and open up discussion of those elements, because that’s what mature adults are supposed to do. 

And as for JK Rowling and Joss Whedon, whose stories I love, whose talent I admire, and whose past good work I’ll happily acknowledge, I do hope they both experience some sort of realization and enter into a period of self-examination that leads to them getting help for their issues, for Rowling to get help in coming to terms with her trauma and realizing that she’s wrong about the trans community and a full apology, and for Whedon to also come to terms with his toxic behavior and how he treats people, for him to make no excuse for what he did and sincerely apologize to those he hurt and work on bettering himself, as well as them both examining some of the more problematic tropes still present in their works. Because despite everything, I do feel that they can still be a creative force of good, and it would be a shame if they let themselves self-destruct.

But if not, then if it comes down to choosing between Rowling and the protecting the trans community, if it comes down between choosing between letting Whedon continue to make shows and protecting actors and writers from his abusive behavior, then I know who I’m siding with, and it ain’t the two individuals this whole essay is about. No story, no matter how good, no matter how creative, is worth letting sacrificing vulnerable people in order for it to be made.

[phara]

Oumota Week, Day 1: mastermind(s) AU

„They always give you a pretty pretentious backstory, don’t they?”

Kaito flinched. “Don’t say always.”

“But it’ll be always pretty soon now, Momota.” Kokichi stood in front of him, calculating. After he counted down something on his fingers, he started again.

“Hey, how many runs has it been now?”

Kaito scoffed. “Don’t ask me. You’re the one they didn’t touch during preproduction.”

A strange glint entered Kokichi’s eyes before they narrowed to slits in one of his shit-eating grins. It had taken Kaito a long time to learn that that, too, was a lie.

“Nishishi, you really should’ve behaved yourself better. Making out with the lead is a no-go, cute little asstronaut.”

Kaito dropped the glass he was holding. “What?”

“Especially since she was the director’s ex. You really know how to start off the season.”

“You’re joking.” He knew Kokichi was lying, he knew, but –

“Of course I am,” Kokichi’s grin made way for an exasperated expression for a second before returning in full force. “Or am I?”

“Cut the shit, Ouma,” Kaito spat, still shell-shocked. He leant down to pick up his drink which was now sadly spread all across the AV room floor. With a curse he put the glass on the table, liberated a tissue from his backpocket and began wiping down the wet carpet.

Kokichi giggled. “Always so expressive. This is why the audience loves you, Momota.”

In moments like these, Kaito never really knew what to say. He’d have liked to be able to converse with Kokichi, he thought. To see if he didn’t hurt himself when he cut Kaito with his sharp-edged words; because, as ever, they were both equally fucked. After multiple rounds, he sometimes thought he had the measure of the analyst, the technician, the supreme leader, and other times he felt like he was running headlong into a wall and hoping it’d break with repeated exposure.

“As if you’d ever have had a chance with Akamatsu anyway. Wow, big-headed much?”

That stopped his hand from moving. Kaito leant back up and mustered his counterpart critically. Kokichi just stood there, hands behind his head, gaze trained on Kaito’s face like he was waiting for something.

“You really want to work together?” Kaito asked. “Doesn’t seem like it with the shit you’re saying.”

“Now, now, Momota,” Kokichi liked saying his name, Kaito noticed. Rolled the syllables like he was tasting every single one, formed the word peculiarly for someone who never grew tired of belittling him. “If we want to prevent what befell poor Akamatsu from ever happening again, we have no choice but to work together.”

“You killed her.”

He’d killed her just as surely as he’d killed Rantaro, and the staff had really outdone themselves with the execution: Even weathered as he was, Kaito had been about to spew right there in the courtroom. A cynical voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Kokichi had murmured that they must’ve gotten a bigger budget approved.

“And thanks to that, all the others are still alive. You know, you never thanked me for that.” Kokichi tilted his head sideways. “Nevermind, are we really doing this? We have more important things to worry about.”

This was going nowhere except maybe into a nasty headache. “You started it!”

“Me, me, me – honestly Momota, can we get past my humble personage – as difficult as I know that is – and concentrate on how to beat the Killing Game?”

Kaito laughed bitterly. “You can’t beat the killing game.”

Suddenly, Kokichi was in his face. Purple eyes stared unblinking into violet ones.

“Exactly.”

Unsettled, Kaito leant back. “So what do you propose? You just giving up?”

“The same thing you’ve been trying to do, without much success,” Kokichi smiled one of his most unsettling smiles yet. “If we can’t beat it, break it. We’ll smash the playing board.”

 ..

 Kaito sat there for a long time after Kokichi left, chin in his hands. The evening announcement came and went, but he couldn’t bring himself to move just yet.

Kokichi’s plan made sense, or it sounded like it did to Kaito anyway. There were a few suspicious blank spots that meant he wouldn’t like whatever they would have to do, but at this stage, there was no point getting choosy. Whatever the outcome, this was their last chance: he couldn’t imagine the network keeping them around much longer. They were getting older, after all.

Kaito contemplated the possibility that this would turn out to be the last season. He considered trusting his longtime opponent with his life and goals and ambition, his entire being in the small hands of an overly mischievous child.

But that was unfair. Kokichi was smart, everyone knew that, and still they constantly underestimated just how smart he really was. Because he was devious and underhanded and, from time to time, beyond malicious: in other words, exactly who they would’ve wanted on this show, if only he didn’t hate it so goddamn much.

Two games ago, Kaito had despised him; last game, he’d despaired, because if only he had the other’s brain, his schemes, his brilliance, maybe he would’ve finally been able to break this charade. Last game he’d looked at Kokichi and saw something worth having, and he’d been so heartsick with that knowledge he’d barely been able to look at the fucker. Them working together now felt predestined, and if Kaito was anything like his adversary, he’d have wondered if that was what Team Danganronpa was aiming for the whole time; but as it is, he discarded the thought. Kokichi would have calculated that, too.

Kokichi said if he had a choice, he’d never have trusted him even this much; but Kaito knows that’s bullshit: He’d had a choice to continue as he was, and he’d decided that working together with the rival he professed to hate was a better option.

Kaito, even after all this, doesn’t hate himself. He knows what he’s good for, and he’s aware that all he’s good for in Team Danganronpa’s eyes is to act as a stimulant so the Killing Game doesn’t get boring, an adrenaline shot for the slow boil. But this time, he feels it’s different, that with these people he might really make the difference: because the body they released him in wasn’t a carcass about to twitch its last, because this time, it was still struggling against its captors, and with a bit of help it might finally break free.

Because even with the ultimatum, not one of them had chosen to kill.

And now he had a hand guiding him that knew where to set him, that could apply his strength with surgical precision. For the first time in a long while, Kaito felt… brave.

He remembered Kokichi sauntering out the door, all confidence and swagger, and turning around just before he left: “Let’s drive this fucking franchise against a wall.”

“Dammit.” Kaito covered his face with his hands. “You better come through on this for me, Kokichi.”

[tibby]

Hey, what are your thoughts on Homer?

my feelings on homer, as with my feelings on most simpsons characters, are tied to the golden era specifically, as i don’t really consider the later season an accurate representation of who they are. also, i think homer, moreso than the others, is meant to be overly comedic, as opposed to a realistic representation of anyone. i know that it’s kind of the go-to now, but back then, homer’s oafishness was MEANT to be different and startling when compared to other fictional fathers.  with that in mind, let’s get into my problematic fave:

just objectively, there would be no show without homer. he may not be my favourite character, but he’s always been the most iconic one of them all, and with the possible exception of bart, he’s the one that has had the biggest impact on pop culture. i’ve seen people say that they should just write him off because he’s a terrible husband or whatever, but the show simply wouldn’t exist without him. and yeah, maybe the show shouldn’t still exist, but homer is hardly the problem with it.

this doesn’t really change the fact that there’s a lot of problems with the way homer is written, especially now. yes, he’s always been a stupid alcoholic with a temper, but they’ve twisted him into something cruel and malicious, with NO redeeming qualities. the thing that was always endearing about homer was that he had a good heart. even though he made thousands of mistakes and sometimes went too far, the guilt he felt would always catch up with him, and he’d always try to clean up the mess he caused (even if he needed help to do that). and it didn’t just extend to his family - i mean, look at when flanders failed. peak homer selfishness, but it very quickly became him going out of his way to help someone. he’s ignorant of other people’s feelings and he’s an act first, think never, kind of guy, but he tries. he tries to be a good husband, be a good dad, be a good friend. he loves marge with every single part of him. he works a job he hates and suffers abuse from his boss because he wants to provide for maggie. he doesn’t understand lisa and accidentally hurts her feelings because of this, but she’s his favourite person in the world and he’ll always go above and beyond to make her smile. even bart, who homer treats the worst of the kids (although the show itself and bts stuff has said they never really intended to push an abusive narrative, it’s just what audiences found funny), is also his partner in crime, and homer has repeatedly risked his own life in attempts to make bart proud of him. he’s aware of his shortcomings, and knows he doesn’t really deserve his family, and so he keeps trying to be better, so he can be good enough for them. underneath the alcohol and the anger issues and the lack of brain cells, homer loves his family. he always has.

and it’s such a shame that the rise of jerkass homer has forgotten that entirely. the showrunners claim to be aware of the criticisms, and yet they do very little to fix it. homer is no longer the deeply flawed but ultimately very loving man he once was. homer has become an abusive alcoholic who went from being your typical sitcom idiot to a brainless slob, a man who is aware of the feelings of his friends and family, but just doesn’t give a shit about him. golden era homer was 30% jerkass homer and 70% decent homer, and that’s what made him work. homer now? about 95% jerkass. the simpsons went from making fun of family guy and south park with their blatant homer ripoffs (who are basically his evil counterparts), to making him just as bad as randy and peter. homer, imo, is the perfect example of what’s gone wrong with the show: they’ve sacrificed heart for jokes, and the jokes aren’t even fucking funny. 

homer’s enemy started as a simple idea: how would your average person react to someone like homer simpson? grimes, not cut out for the sitcom world, is driven insane by homer’s incompetence and unearned privileges, and dies as a result. but the episode makes it clear that although grimes might be the realistic one here, he’s also kind of an asshole. he only sees the worst parts of homer. he doesn’t care that homer is well meaning and creative and wants to be his friend. he’s made homer out to be an alcoholic slob with nothing good to offer the world, and that’s all he sees. and i think that’s all the showrunners see when they look at homer these days.

homer is the icon of the show, the hands, the man that gets the plot started and keeps the action moving. he’s meant to be unrealistic and meant to be the most over the top and comical of the family. but he’s also meant to be a good man at heart that loves the people around him. and that’s why marge stays with him, why his kids still adore him, why his friends think he’s a good guy. they’re able to remember his positive attributes, even in the face of all his overwhelming flaws.

and it’s a shame that the writers no longer seem able to remember the same.

[harlot-of-oblivion]

Flowers By The Sea (Part 8)

Your darling devil helps you face your fear while the romantic tensions rises higher and higher with every wave of the sea.

The second part of the beach episode is here! Hope you enjoy! 😘 

Here’s the link to the list of all the flowers featured in this part 🌺😊🌺 

Chapter 2: His Radiant Rose

When you were invited to a party on the beach, you expected delicious food fresh from the grill, skipping down the shore while searching for pretty shells, and spending time with your darling devil under the sun. You were not prepared for just how gorgeous Vergil would look dripping wet in a speedo. He was the epitome of perfection when he slicked back his hair while walking out of the sea. And while you hold his hand and kiss along every knuckle, you cannot help but to think of the gallant knights from your childhood storybooks.

They were always there to protect their lady…just like you are now, my darling devil.

If anyone would have told you that you would be facing your fears by wading out in the ocean today, you would have laughed at such an unlikely outcome. And yet here you are…agreeing to let Vergil take you out into the salty unknown in hopes of experiencing the wonders of the sea for the very first time. You look up at him as your lips trail off his hand, which is still holding the token of your affection and trust. His cheeks are dusted with the lightest shade of pink as he stares right back with a faraway look in his eyes.

He looks so cute when he’s lost in thought, you muse quietly, adoring the little crinkle between his brow and the flecks of blue shining out of his silvery gaze before knocking him out of his serious stupor.

“Flower for your thoughts?”

Vergil blinks as your sweet inquiry brings his attention back to the matter at hand. He stares down at his hand still within your soft grasp for a moment before speaking. “I’m just…touched that you have so much faith in me,” he admits, opening his hand to marvel at the single white freesia you just gave him.  

You smile up at him warmly. “It isn’t hard to trust you, my grumpy gillyflower!”

Vergil quirks a brow and hums in thought as he stores the delicate bloom in the front pocket of his Hawaiian shirt. “I like darling devil more,” he reveals while leaning in closer to you, which makes you crane your neck up more to keep eye contact. “It rolls off your tongue better,” he adds with a smug smirk as he caresses your cheek and rubs his thumb just below your bottom lip.

You shiver at his intimate touch while the rest of your body buzzes with delight at his suggestive words. Ever since that night by camellias you have been longing for more of this handsome devil. You agreed to be his accompanist for the performance at the wedding just so you could spend even more time with him, hoping that all the flirty banter and yearning glances would cultivate the seeds of affection you sowed within his briars long ago. Your constant daydreams of him are now passionate fantasies, and it’s little teases like this that never fail to stoke the desire for more, more, more…  

“Are you ready to face your fear?”

The serious tone of Vergil’s voice breaks you away from your pining and smacks you right back down to reality. You notice that his lips are no longer curling into that cocky smile that never fails to turn your legs into jelly. His stoic face is now regarding you with utmost care as he offers you his hand, which quickly wrenches your pleasant thoughts into timid apprehension as you glance over at the rolling surf. You take a deep breath and gulp down enough of your anxiety to take his hand in earnest while putting on the bravest face you can muster.  

“Shell yeah! I’m not gonna let this tide me down!”

Vergil shakes his head and groans at your punny response as he stands and helps you up from the edge of the tide pool. You reach down to grab your bucket of shells and giggle while his stern face tries to hide the smirk that wants to break free as he leads you out of the sprawling pool towards the open shore. He stops and looks around for a moment before sticking the Yamato in the sand, explaining that it will act as a marker for him so that they do not drift too far away from their original position.

You nod in understanding as he promptly removes his Hawaiian shirt and hangs it on the Yamato’s handle. It takes all your willpower to not gape at him like a fish while you unfasten your mesh sarong, but your eyes still linger down his chest and long legs. When he turns around to stare out to sea you seize the opportunity to check out his butt, which is looking mighty fine in that blue speedo. And his thighs…they have been the object of your desire in a few of your fantasies, but to see them out of those leather pants in all their scrumptious glory…

Oh! How am I ever gonna get any gardening done with that running through my mind now? you wonder in agony as you drape your sarong over his Hawaiian shirt.

Vergil asks if you are ready to embark once you step up beside him, looking out at the ocean with him as you steel yourself for the challenge crashing ahead. As soon as you give him a shaky nod of your head, he examines your face closely before kneeling so that you can hop on his back. Your arms wrap around his neck as you press yourself close against his body. His hands come around and hook under your knees before slowly standing upright, adjusting his hold on you with a slight jostle before heading towards the object of your deep-seated fear.

Never have you ever felt such an odd mix of emotions churn and bubble deep inside you. On one hand, your cheeks grow hotter the more your body bounces against his back with every step. You were already aware of his impressive strength, but to experience it firsthand is making your mind go crazy with new fantasies for the future. But on the other hand, your stomach feels as if it’s twisting into knots the closer you get to the vast sea. Your legs squeeze tighter around him in alarm when his feet meet the lapping waves on the sandy shore. And as he treks deeper into the ocean you try to focus on the feel of his skin beneath your hands, the sounds of his voice as he comforts you with soothing words…anything to banish the memory that is desperately clawing at the back of your mind.

And it works for a while…until your eyes happen to glance down behind you. The foamy water splashes around about halfway up his calf as he takes slow steps forward, hypnotizing you with its swirling patterns as the sandy floor remains unseen…just like the bottom of the lake in your hometown. It was so deep and so dark while you swam in that huge lake one foggy morning. Your little legs had to keep kicking to stay afloat while you stared down into the abyss…too afraid to scream when a pair of eyes snapped open and stared right back at you from the boundless depths…too weak to swim away fast enough as they sped up towards you with malicious intent gleaming in its unblinking gaze…

A frightened shriek bursts from your lips as you bury your head in between his shoulder blades and shake the memory out of your head. All movement stops as you feel Vergil looking back over his shoulder while you hide your terrified face from him. “How are you fairing, my lovely rose?” he asks softly above the sonorous sounds of the sea.  

“I-I’m f-f-fine,” you stutter, trying your best to keep your voice even, but failing since your body is still quaking in fear.

You can practically feel his critical gaze bore into you as he makes no move to continue onward, calmly assessing the situation while you cling onto him for dear life. He’s probably wondering why he’s even bothering with such a scaredy cattail like me, you thought morosely while holding back tears. You start to regret coming out here with him in hopes of tackling your fear since all it has done so far is shed light on just how weak you are compared to the eldest Son of Sparda.  

“Do you have any Frost poems memorized?”

“Huh?” Your head snaps up to meet his intense gaze while you ponder his abrupt question. “Yeah, but-”

“Recite one for me,” he interjects with an earnest request.

“Now?!” you exclaim while your mouth hangs open in shock. “B-but how can I recite at a time like this?” you stammer while yours hands motion around the tumultuous surroundings.

“It will help you focus on something else besides the sea,” he assures you with utmost confidence while his thumbs draw comforting circles just above your knees.

Vergil’s gentle gesture sends pleasant shivers up your legs, effectively dispelling some of your anxiety among the waves. You close your eyes and take a deep breath through your nose, catching a whiff of the lavender laced in your flower crown along the sea breeze. The calming scent eases your rattled mind as you think about which Frost poem to recite. You open your eyes as soon as you are ready and nod for him to keep walking before clearing your throat. He gives you a small smile in return and turns back to task at hand as your soft voice rides along the crashing waves around you.  

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth.

 Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear.

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

 And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.

 I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

The ocean water tickles the bottom of your feet as you finish your recitation. You look back to see just how far away you are from the shore. “Holy Motherwort!” you squeal softly, hugging around his neck tighter while resting your chin on his shoulder. “I’m really out here, huh?” you marvel in total astonishment while gazing out in awe at the boundless sea.

Vergil glances down at you from the corner of his eye, carefully gauging your reaction as he brings up the next phase of facing your fear. “Do you wish to stand here with me?”

You bite your lower lip nervously. “I dunno if I can,” you admit weakly before hiding your face behind his neck.

Vergil is silent for a moment before turning his head toward you. “You’ve come this far, my brazen rose,” he whispers by your ear. “I believe in you,” he adds, gently encouraging you to take that one final step in facing your fear.

Your eyes peek up at him from your hiding place at his sincere words. You stare deeply into his eyes, admiring how the azure ocean brings out the soft blue hue among molten silver as you make up your mind. He’s right…I’ve made this far, you thought, reminding yourself that you will always be safe and sound with your darling devil here is by your side.

“Okay,” you murmur with a determined nod before looking around in confusion. “How do I…?”

Before you can even finish your question, Vergil lets go of one of your legs while pulling the other out and further around him. You yelp in surprise and cling to him harder as his arm wraps around your waist, holding you close and keeping you still as he adjusts your body so that you are now facing him in his strong embrace. Your cheeks start to glow pink as you realize just how close you are to his face. He stares down at you quietly as the crashing of waves and squawking seagulls fill the silence between you two. This goes on for a couple more moments before the corners of his mouth quirk into an amused grin.

“Y/N.”

“Hmm?”

“You’re supposed to be standing here with me.”

“Oh yeah!” you blurt out with a nervous giggle while embarrassment flows through you, which only makes your cheeks burn hotter.

You rest your forehead against his chest to hide your flushed face from his gaze as you ready yourself for the next challenge. Your body wiggles against the vice grip of his arms as you unhook one of your legs from around his waist. The cool ocean water licks at your foot as it brushes against his muscular thigh, and after a heartbeat of steeling your nerves you begin to lower it down into the sea.  

Your foot slides all the way down against his long leg until it finally enters the ocean, shivering at the cool temperature of the water. You try to memorize every twitch of his muscles as your foot drags down, down, down…until it stops somewhere above his ankle. His arms tighten around your waist as you drop the other leg and slide it down against his leg as well.

Vergil shifts his weight back and forth between his feet as you lift your head up from his chest. His intense gaze penetrates your very soul as you loosen your hold from around his neck. Your body slides against his chest as you lower yourself all the way down towards the ocean floor. It takes every ounce of your willpower to not let out a soft moan at the feel of his soft skin brushing against your own warm skin.

As soon as your feet touch the sandy bottom, Vergil relinquishes his grip from around your waist and places his hands on your hips while you get your bearings. A vigorous heartbeat thrums beneath your hands as you take what seems like your millionth deep breath since leaving the shore. You close your eyes and let its steady rhythm give you just enough courage to turn around and face your fear head on by gazing out into the vast unknown in the arms of the man that helped you get there.

Vergil assists you by gently wrapping one arm around your hips to keep you steady while you turn around in place. And as you marvel at the sea, he moves you back to rest against his chest before enveloping you in his protective embrace. You practically melt into the safety of his arms and hold onto them gratefully while the rippling waves rise right below your knees just as he promised. His chin rests against your head as both of you take in the splendor of the ocean as it sparkles under the warm sun in comfortable silence.

“How are you feeling?” he murmurs by your ear after a few minutes of quiet gazing.

“Juuuuuust peachy!” you reply with a bright smile while giving his arm an appreciative pat.

His annoyed scoff blows against your hair, but you just giggle and snuggle deeper into his warm embrace. A husky chuckle rings close to your ear as he nuzzles your neck while his arms tighten around your waist. You sigh happily at the feel of his soft lips as they brush against your skin, and then shiver in delight when they press a gentle kiss on the nape of your neck. Your body hums in excitement and you find yourself saying the first thing that comes to mind just to keep the whimpering moan crawling up your throat at bay.    

“I didn’t expect you to request Robert Frost.”

Vergil stops nuzzling your neck to press his lips against your ear. “Well, I haven’t been able to enjoy his prose ever since you borrowed the complete collection of his works from me months ago,” he reproaches you playfully while his hands glide up your waist.

You giggle as his fingers tickle your sides, squirming a little to get away until his hands settle back down on your hips. “I’m sorry…I keep forgetting about it every time you visit,” you concede as soon as your giggle fit is over.

“There’s no need to apologize,” he insists with a soft squeeze of his hands around your hips. “I know that he’s one of your favorites,” he adds before pausing in thought. “Speaking of which, you still have my copy of Emily Dickinson as well.”

You fight the urge to rub up against his midsection with every squeeze of his hand. “How do you know that they’re my favorites?” you ask in hopes of distracting your overactive imagination from wanting more fuel for your daydreams and fantasies.

“You always return the books that don’t inspire you while keeping the ones that you find captivating.”

Vergil gazes at the endless sea while that little bit of wisdom drifts across the salty breeze. You realize that you have shared this beautiful sentiment with him on multiple occasions at the book café and among your flowers. “But what if it’s not the books that I find captivating?” you ask pensively, thinking back to the earlier stages of your friendship with the grumpy gentleman who currently makes your heart beat faster than a hummingbird’s wings.

“What if it’s the man who keeps lending his books to such a forgetful gardener?”

You feel his head shift down just as you turn your head, raising yourself up on your tippy toes before pressing a kiss right below the jaw. He freezes up at the touch of your lips as your sincerely sweet words weave between the crashing waves, but then a low rumbling hum emits from his throat when you nuzzle his chin affectionately. His head slowly turns until he pins you down with his searing gaze, dipping closer so that you can hear him over the resonant sounds of the sea.  

“Then he’s a lucky devil indeed to have caught the attention of such a lovely rose.”

Your knees grow weak as his forehead rests against your brow, the blue hue of his eyes twinkling warmly while a soft whimper manages to get past your lips. Something in the salty air suddenly shifts and you feel as if you are about to take a step beyond an unseen precipice, wondering if your darling devil is also feeling the line of friendship blur as you tremble in anticipation. A part of you desperately hopes that he will finally capture your lips in the passionate kiss you have dreamed of many times since that wild night…while another part wants to take matters into your own hands and pull him down to your amorous kiss. But the patient part of you wins over, not wanting to force such a pivotal moment as you wait with an open heart and bated breath.  

Vergil leans down until both of your lips are barely touching…but then his eyes widen before glancing out towards the ocean. You yelp in alarm when he spins you around abruptly towards the shore, curving his body over yours to protect you from a huge wave as it crashes into both of you. A terrified shriek leaves your lips as the force of the wave pushes you forward, the water now up to your chest as you feel something brush against your back. You instinctively reach behind you to swat away whatever has ahold of you, but instead your eyes widen in horror as you realize that the bottom string of your bikini top has become untied.    

You quickly bring your hands up to hold your bikini top against your breasts, thankful that the necktie of your bikini is still intact as the errand wave recedes towards the shore. Another type of wave hits you as Vergil asks if you are alright…sheer embarrassment rushes up your body and pools around your cheeks, which turn as red as a holly berry while you whine awkwardly. He must see why you are so mortified…you are after all literally hunched over to hide your crimson face from him. You just want this to end, but the fact that you are knee deep in the ocean and utterly terrified of what may lie beneath its murky depths keeps you from running away.

Vergil tightens his arms around your waist before hoisting you up nearly out of the ocean before making his way back to shore. You cannot bear to face him when he puts you down back on dry sandy ground a safe distance away from the water, disappointed and utterly humiliated by this sudden turn of events. Both of you just stand there stiffly, looking anywhere but at each other as the awkward silence between you two lingers for an uncomfortable amount of time. It takes you a few moments to collect yourself before surreptitiously looking over your shoulder at Vergil, who is currently doing a terrible job at hiding his flushed face while staring down at his feet. You gather what is left of your courage and take a deep breath, preparing your voice to stay calm while you speak to him.    

“Umm…if you can just-”

“Allow me to help you tie it back.”

You stop short at his sudden interruption, squeaking in surprise while his offer of assistance makes your entire body feel like it’s got a bad case of sunburn. Vergil tilts his head at your odd reaction but makes no move towards you as he continues. “It’s the least I could do for making you suffer from my lack of vigilance.”

Your brow furrows in confusion while you shake your head, knocking your flower crown slightly askew. “You didn’t make me suffer, Vergil…I’m just really, really, really embarrassed,” you reassure with a weary sigh, “and probably pinker than a peony on a porch too…that’s all!” you add while trying your best to look him in the eye despite your flustered state.

Vergil is quiet for a moment while his eyes bore straight through you, searching for any sign of distress besides what you mentioned before giving you a slight nod of his head. His stiff posture gradually relaxes as he takes one slow step forward just behind your very bare back. “May I?” he inquires softly, raising a hand towards one of the strings, but not grabbing it until you give him permission.

Your arms tighten around your breasts while warm tingles cascade down your back in response to his offer. You bite your lower lip and twirl one of your feet on the sand as you think it over, but you find yourself nodding your head when you see a spark of remorse in those beautiful blue eyes. The hand that is still hovering close to one of the strings swoops in and gently grabs it as you turn your head to stare at the Yamato, which is just a few feet ahead of you. Both strings tug on your bikini top as he proceeds to tie them back together, mumbling under his breath that perhaps it’s best to double tie them just to be safe. You giggle at his soft mutterings as he finishes tying your top, but a soft caress down the middle of your back turns your laugh into a soft gasp.    

“Forgive me, my lovely rose.”

You barely hear his low apology over the distant waves as you turn around to fully face him. Just the sight of his forlorn frown makes you wish you had more petals to throw in air. “If I had any flowers on me, I’d be showering you with all them right now!” you threaten cutely with both hands on your hips, which earns you a raised eyebrow from the solemn devil. It only takes one step for you to get close enough to wrap your arms around his waist for a hug.

“You protected me just like you promised, so there’s no need to apologize, my darling devil,” you declare softly, hoping that he hears the genuine tone of your voice among the sea breeze.

Vergil takes a deep breath through his nose as you rest your chin against his bare chest. You listen to his soothing heartbeat and sway gently to its steady beat as you smile up at him in adoration. The corners of his mouth curve into a soft grin while his hands encircle your hips, swaying along to your rhythm as he presses a gracious kiss between your brow. You hum as the pleasant touch of his soft lips makes the butterflies flutter faster in your stomach, and as both of you look into each other’s eyes you are brought back at that unseen precipice once more. For a moment you see a spark of resolution within the depths of his silver blue eyes, but it quickly fades as he breaks away from your ardent gaze.      

“We better make haste before the crew starts questioning our whereabouts,” he announces while walking by you towards the Yamato.

You blink and tilt your head at his sudden shift from an open warmth to a stoic demeanor, feeling both confused and a little crestfallen as you follow close behind. He slips on his Hawaiian shirt and grabs the Yamato while you tie your mesh sarong around your waist. Something catches Vergil’s eye just behind you and he goes off to check it out while you pick up your gardening trowel and bucket of seashells. You look over to see him thoroughly inspecting a patch of wildflowers growing by the sea, summoning a tiny blue sword before cutting one lucky bloom from the sandy ground.  

Vergil walks back over to you with a single white flower in his hand, but as he gets closer you notice that the petals are delicately brushed with a soft pink hue. Its funnel-shape and tropical flare marks it as an amaryllis, the bloom born from the blood of a shy and timid nymph in hopes of winning the love of a handsome shepherd. Your heart begins to pound as its meaning echoes through your mind, now understanding why the nymph would go through the trouble of piercing her own heart for the sake of requited love.

“Your boundless determination never ceases to amaze me, my radiant rose,” he compliments, presenting the strikingly unique flower to you with a soft smile.

You giggle at the subtle change of his endearment and demurely glance down at the bloom of brazen beauty while reaching out to take it. Your fingers caress the palm of his hand as you grab the stem and your thumb brushes over his knuckles before withdrawing back with the gifted flower in hand. He watches you bring it up to your nose for a sniff, silver blue eyes smoldering while entranced by your every move. You can feel a soft blush creeping up your cheeks as your eyes flicker up to behold his wondrous gaze.

“And you never cease to charm the petals off me, my darling devil,” you coyly confess, hoping that you have better luck than the shy nymph from that bittersweet tale.          

Vergil takes a step forward and straightens your crooked flower crown with a soft chuckle before turning right back around. As his back turns towards you, he pops the hilt of the Yamato free and unsheathes it with a smooth flourish, slashing the air with two precise strokes before gliding it back into its sheath. The blue portal that he sometimes uses to leave your garden rips open, making you jump behind his back as you huddle in close to hide. He pulls you around to stand by his side, taking your arm and wrapping it around his own while whispering words of comfort.

You never walked through the portal before, but with your darling devil there to lead you it wasn’t so bad! One minute you are standing by a sprawling tide pool, and the next you are suddenly back hanging out with the rest of the crew. They welcome you both back in various ways: Kyrie and Lady offer you a fruity cocktail while Dante asks if his brother finally got the sand out of his…well, you don’t know exactly what he was going to say since a summoned sword interrupted him. You see that a volleyball net has been set up nearby and after some persuading, as well as some competitive taunting from Dante, they drag Vergil off to play a game of beach volleyball with them.    

They try to get you to join too, but you swear that you would only slow them down with your terrible lack of coordination. Kyrie giggles as she wraps her arm around yours and asks if you would like to watch the game together. You gladly accept with a relieved smile and both of you make yourselves comfortable on a large beach towel while the rest of the crew breaks up into teams of three: Vergil, Nero and Lady on side and Dante, Nico, and Trish on the other. Kyrie flips a coin to see which team serves first and after a bit of bickering between the boys they position themselves before Nero starts the game since his team won the coin toss.

You and Kyrie chat about the seashells you collected during your search down the shore while watching the intense game of volleyball. At some point during the game, Kyrie points out the amaryllis still in your hand and you find yourself glancing at Vergil just as he lunges forward towards the oncoming ball as it almost hits the sandy ground. You say that you found it by the tide pool, but Kyrie’s sharp eyes catch the subtle look towards the game and the light blush on your cheeks. She giggles and gives you a playful shove against your shoulder, suggesting that it would be a lovely addition to your flower crown.

Your eyes sparkle with glee at the idea and you quickly undo some of the pins holding your crown before removing it completely from atop your head. The eucalyptus leaves and lavender seem to be none worse for wear after your excursion into the ocean, but there are a couple of freesia blooms missing. You pick out one of the empty spots and carefully weave the amaryllis flower into the crown, unwrapping a few wires to hold it in place since it’s a great deal larger than the freesia. And after a couple of rearranging you don your flower crown and show it to Kyrie for approval before pinning it back into place.

From the corner of your eye you spot Vergil staring in your direction. You look over and smile sweetly while turning your head to show off the radiant addition to your flower crown. His eyes grow soft as one corner of his mouth quirks into a secretive grin before quickly jumping up to hit the ball back over the net. Your eyes linger down his gorgeous body as you watch him move across the sand, wondering how it might feel weighing you down on a soft bed. And his deliciously long legs…you only sat in his lap one time, but it was enough to feel just how strong he really is…and just how long he could go behind closed doors and in between your thighs…

But this nagging feeling comes from the back of your mind as you watch him glide gracefully across the sand. It slaps you with the image of Vergil tearing away from your amorous gaze from earlier…and again when he turned away to open a portal back here. He is a man of action rather than words, and right now his actions denote a sense of hesitancy. Is he really having second thoughts? you wonder, insecurity coiling around your chest as your eyes track his every move. Your heart tells you the opposite: the way he held you in the ocean and came so close to your lips…it all spells out just how much he wants you too, but your intuition warns you about pressing the issue.

Ooh…what do I do now? you fret as your daydreams morph into worrisome thoughts.

“Daydreaming again, I see.”

“Ah!” you squeal softly as the sound of Kyrie’s voice knocks you back down to reality. You look over to see that knowing glint in her hazel eyes again. Your lips curl into a sheepish grin while you shake the anxious thoughts from your mind. “I’m sorry…what were you saying?” you ask apologetically, resisting the urge to fidget under her mischievous gaze by fiddling with a strand of your hair.

Kyrie grins impishly as she turns her gaze towards the volleyball game. “They’re pretty good, aren’t they?”

“Yeah!” you agree with a wide smirk while following her gaze. Both teams are really focused; you can practically feel the tension as your eyes track the ball bouncing from one side of the net to the other until it flies out of bounds. This starts a yelling match between Dante and Vergil, both of their voices raising in volume as their argument grows more heated.

“They’re a little bit competitive, huh?” you observe with a quiet giggle, already knowing quite well how often the twin brothers fight.

Kyrie laughs along with you as her fiancé quickly puts himself between the brothers. “And it always ends with Nero breaking them up.”

You both watch as Nero knocks some sense into his father and uncle while your mind suddenly remembers a minor detail you wanted to know about the wedding. “Oh!” you gasp, “I wanted to ask you something…” you trail off, drawing Kyrie into secretive discussion while the crew resumed their game.

After being asked to be his date to wedding, you immediately ran upstairs to your room and threw open your closet doors. You shuffled through a multitude of flowery dresses of every color and various styles, searching for the perfect dress that would suit the wedding…but none of them seemed right or appropriate for the big day. It was then that you decided to just make a dress and headed straight into your childhood room where you have a stock of fabrics stored. The dress is mostly completed now, but you wanted to check with Kyrie about some minor details before finishing it for the big day.

Kyrie eyes grow wide as you talk about what colors would suit your dress best without drawing too much attention…it is, after all, her wedding day and everyone should be enthralled by her beautiful dress. She claps her hands excitement and assures you that the colors you have chosen will look absolutely stunning on you. You sigh in relief and talk about your plans about the finishing touches to the embroidered flowers. She gushes about your crafty talents and even shares a few of her sewing projects for their kids at the orphanage before her face lights up with a sudden realization.  

“You know…speaking of the wedding,” she begins with a thoughtful expression, but her eyes hold that same knowing glint from earlier. “Have you both decided on a song yet?”

Your heart stops for a moment. “Whaaaaat?” you exclaim while your mind scrambles for an unsuspicious response. “What are you talking about?” you inquire, tilting your head in feign ignorance while trying to sound as innocent as possible.

Kyrie smiles and leans in close before whispering in a hushed tone by your ear. “Vergil once told me that he plays the violin. So, when I heard someone playing the violin when I last visited your home…I just figured that it must be him practicing up there since you two are close friends.” Her sunny smile turns into a sly smirk before continuing. “And I may have heard you asking your friend which song he would like to perform at the wedding as I left your office.”

Your eyes widen in shock as you berate your past self for not considering Kyrie’s keen sense of hearing that day.  “Oh snapdragons,” you sigh in defeat with a disappointed pout. “I’ve totally ruined the surprise.”

“Aww no!” Kyrie scoots closer to you and wraps her arm around your shoulders. “I was so surprised and genuinely touched by such a thoughtful and creative gift!” she consoles with a soft smile. “Which is why I would like to make a request.” Her eyes glance toward her future husband. “I would very much appreciate it if both of you would perform for our first dance.”

You ponder her request while watching the crew give it their all as the game comes close to an end. Your eyes wander over to Vergil, who is glaring at a grinning Dante while Trish serves, and you cannot help but feel a thrilling burst of joy at the prospect of him playing such an important part in the wedding. “I’ll have to run it by Vergil first,” you inform softly as the crew dashes across the sand to finally determine the winner. “But if he’s on board, then I am too!” you exclaim with an ecstatic grin that matches Kyrie’s own jubilant smile.

The volleyball game finally ends with Nero’s team becoming the victor by a scant hair. After a few minutes of trading quips and biting sarcasm, they all agree that the losing team should set up the bonfire by the beach while the winning team gets to have some rest and relaxation. You and Kyrie trade a knowing look, silently communicating that you need some alone time with Vergil to share her request. A bubbly giggle bursts from your lips as you get up off the beach towel and grab your bucket of seashells before skipping off alone down towards the sea.

The sun is now lower in the sky than before your adventure out to sea, illuminating the sand in its golden orange light as you move closer to the ocean. You notice the tide has receded, which reveals a treasure trove of shells among bits of seaweed and other trinkets. Your head turns to look over your shoulder as you shift through the ocean’s offerings, hoping that your covert glances will catch a certain darling devil’s attention. Vergil is putting on his cute Hawaiian shirt, watching you from afar when he grabs the Yamato and starts walking to where you are sitting down on the wet sand.      

“Sooooo,” you begin when he gets close enough, “do you remember my suspicion from earlier?”

Vergil pauses for a moment. “Ah,” he murmurs as his eyes spark with realization, “so my future daughter-in-law has figured out the reason behind our clandestine meetings, hmm?” he surmises while crouching down to sit beside you.

“It’s my fault,” you confess with a guilty pout. “She heard me asking about which song we were going to play while she was leaving.” Your eyes glance flicker over to see his reaction to your folly. His expression has not changed much, the crinkle in his brow furrows a little deeper but he is not giving you a disappointed glare at least. “Buuuuut,” you quickly move onto the matter at hand before he has time to get annoyed, “she did request that we play for their first dance!”

Vergil tilts his head while he raises a brow in astonishment. “She would have us perform an integral part of the wedding reception?”

You nod excitedly. “Yeah! You get to play the song that your son will remember fondly for the years as his first dance with his dearly beloved!” A jovial smile graces your lips as you stare up at him with hopeful eyes. “What do you say?”

A moment of silence lingers between you two while Vergil thinks it over, staring out at the ocean as it sparkles under the setting sun in deep contemplation. You admire his stoic profile while waiting patiently for his decision, seeing a few cracks of emotion here and there within his serious demeanor. And once he has made up his mind, he takes a deep breath through his nose before nodding his head ever so slightly.      

“I…would very much like that,” he murmurs, reaching down to rest his hand on top yours on the sand while turning to look down at you. “Thank you, Y/N.” He gives you a soft smile while his thumb brushes the top of your hand tenderly.

Your body instantly responds to his delicate touch, cheeks reddening and heart racing while you shake your head. “You shouldn’t be thanking me…I’m the reason why we nearly spoiled the surprise to begin with!” you remind him with a light giggle, turning your hand to lace your fingers within his warm hand.

Vergil hums in amusement and gently holds your hand while both of you enjoy a quiet moment by the sea together. It almost feels as if we’re… You do not let yourself finish that thought since your darling devil is very perceptive and will only worry for you like he did in the music room. Today is supposed to be about fun and relaxation before the big day…not eating more bittersweet berries! You give his hand a determined squeeze as your head leans down to rest on his shoulder, accepting that you must wait just a little bit longer for him to come around and sweep you off your feet.    

Your eyes happen to glance over to the side a little ways, and before you know it an elated squeal leaves your lips at the sight of the one thing you were hoping to find during your visit to the beach. Vergil assumes an offensive stance at lightning speed, hand at the ready to wield the Yamato in your defense. You quickly tell him that you are fine before rushing over to collect two wonderful prizes in the shape of a circle about the size of your palm.  

Vergil sighs in quiet exasperation before striding over to where you are carefully brushing sand off the most unique find on the beach. “And what have you found this time?”

“Sand flowers!” you reveal with total exhilaration, gesturing down at the sand while bouncing around like a bumblebee.  

Vergil quirks a brow as he peers down at your prizes. “Curious,” he murmurs while crouching down to get a closer look. “And here I thought they were known as sand dollars,” he retorts with a wry smirk.

Your face falls into an adorable grimace. “But look at them, Vergil!” you demand with utmost seriousness while pointing out the petal-like pattern in the shape of a pretty five petal daisies. “They’re like flowers by the sea!” you marvel with a clap of your hands before carefully prying one out of the wet sand.

Vergil shakes his head and chuckles at your argument, letting you win this round of silly bickering as you proudly hold up your sand flower. “I’ve also heard that finding one of these supposedly brings you good luck,” he informs while examining the other sand flower still stuck in the sand with his appraising gaze.

“Really?” Your eyes widen in wonder before tilting your head in thought. “Then here…take one!” You present him with the sand flower in your hand. “It can’t hurt to have a little luck before the wedding, right?”

You give him a playful wink as he accepts your generous gift with a gracious grin. He puts the lucky sand flower into the front pocket of his Hawaiian shirt while you proceed to pry the other one out from its sandy prison. A brisk wave crashes on the shore and rushes right over your feet just as you free the sand flower, making you shriek in surprise while jumping up in fright. Vergil swiftly wraps an arm around your waist before you can accidentally hurt yourself by tripping over some slippery seaweed beneath the foamy water. You make sure that you did not drop your lucky find, letting out a sigh of relief at the sight of it still clutched in your hand before giving your devilish savior a grateful smile.  

“It seems I’m still a little afraid of the ocean even after all you’ve done for me,” you bemoan softly, mentally ridiculing yourself for not being more aware of your surroundings during all the excitement over your discovery of the sand flowers.

Vergil gives your hip a comforting squeeze. “Don’t be disheartened, my lovely rose. You’ve taken a brave first step. See?” he reassures you softly before turning his gaze down towards the surf. “You’re even closer to the sea now than you were while collecting seashells,” he discerns with a proud grin as he pulls you closer to stand by his side.

“And now every time I read some Frost, I’ll think of my darling devil helping me face my fears,” you murmur, cheeks blushing pink as you snuggle up closer to him.

There is a moment of resounding silence before you hear a thoughtful hum deep within his chest. Your eyes flicker up to see Vergil now staring down at you. His striking white hair looks so soft in the light of the sun while his eyes seem to glow like rivulets of blue among a sea of silver. He reaches up to touch the newest addition to your flower crown with a small grin while reciting some Frost of his own:    

The heart can think of no devotion Greater than being shore to the ocean-- Holding the curve of one position, Counting an endless repetition.

As soon as Vergil finishes reciting the short but sweet poem, he bends down and plants a soft kiss just above the corner of your mouth…the same spot he kissed that night by the camellias. A soft whimper escapes your lips before you can stop it while gazing up at him, noting a mix of emotion swirling in the depths of those silver blue eyes. The resolution from before is back, but now there is a certain hope along with some hesitancy…

Your eyes shine ardently once you finally understand; this is meant to be his response to your astilbe flower. You smile and hug him closer, letting him know that you are just as devoted to him as he is to you…and you are not going anywhere while there is still a rose to be found among his briars. All your insecure thoughts from earlier are dashed from your mind as he hugs you back without much pause thanks to your efforts of getting him used to your friendly presence.

It seems I have more luck than the shy nymph after all, you muse, thankful that you don’t have to pierce your heart with a golden arrow to win him over. All you need is a little more patience…only then can you pick the flower that blooms from this sweet devotion and give it to your one and only darling devil.  

Read Part 9 here

Read on Ao3

My Masterlist if you want more 💖

I'd like to thank @harmony-redgrave over on tumblr for the wonderful idea of Kyrie asking them to play for their first dance at the wedding! And I gotta give a small shout out to @rodentsunite for giving me the absolutely cute idea of Gardener Reader making dresses uwu

Tagging: @drusoona @bettybattaglia @exsultry @thedyingmoon @veenus-ow @meowykittenn @fandomhell97 @vergilsangel @thenightgazer @cherryvane @yesno18 @diabeticsugarush @queenmuzz @mary-v-o-n @tinamalee @a-midsummer-nights-odyssey @ancientwhitefire @agentdedf1sh  @divinity-deos @shiranyaaww @skarlet-red-rose

[hellyeahheroes]

Marvel Teen Romance: Girls Edition Part 1

Solo Boys Edition

Romance is a dying art in superhero comics. 

In a medium rife with sexism, the idea of romance becomes tainted with unfortunate cliches in a wave of women’s empowerment. Terms like Damsel-in-Distress becomes less of a person benefiting of a hero’s altruism to ranging from the unfortunate burden of being the one who needs to be saved as a sign of a weakness.

Marvel best example of the romance is Peter Parker and Mary Jane. A romance rife with editorial backlash that never liked the former and did their damnest and are doing their damnest to demean the character for their own ideal partner for Spider-man or Peter. MJ was making grown ass men who resented their wives and marriages project onto Peter. If you want to see an example of the sexism of Marvel, look up Christopher Priest’s opinion of Peter Parker and MJ and then after you pick up your jaw, keep reading.

Now women in Marvel have to appeal to the girls reading them. They have to be strong and strength is often interpreted as independence from men. There is rarely moments of weakness or yearning for these characters. They do not fawn for men or anyone at all and if they do long for anyone, it is for another woman, Today’s Marvel female youth opt for solitude and hyperfocus on the mission because writers refuse to even approach the hormone addled teenaged girl which has been derided as a stereotype. There is no swooning or rarely hint of attraction towards anybody, especially the opposite sex.

The pros are that stories are more varied and page space is not wasted on smitten teen girls being smitten on useless boys.

The cons is that it creates an archetype of stereotypical strong independent female in which their only characteristic is that they are strong and/or independent which contrasts men because men can be more varied in attitude and personality while women writers opt not to even engage in romance while also not addressing the character’s sexuality. They are not allowed to be young or be emotional. 

Also, because of classism, the superhero woman opts for her equal in terms of status and usually only date men or women who are also superheroes while men, again are more varied. Men in romances with superheroic women are never powerless and usually fill an utility role. There is a need for them to want to help a perfectly capable woman. There is only one teenaged hero with a solo and a non-superhero partner and even then most of the male partners who aren’t have to be of use to the heroine in their vigilantism. They cannot just have their own lives separate from what the hero is doing like a Mary Jane Watson. They have to be hyper-competent and be apart of the heroines lives. Again, it wouldn’t be a problem if it weren’t for the implied sexism/classism. Spider-Gwen does not get the same fantasy as Peter Parker(will get to that later).

On a side note: To Mayday fans, Anya fans, Pei from Iron Fist fans, Moon Girl fans, Squirrel Girl fans, and any girl that I excluded from this post, they will definitely be in part two. I am sorry, but I just couldn’t. You will see how long this post is and this isn’t malicious on my part, but I hope you understand and forgive me. I mean I have to go back and update the boys edition. Cut me some slack. Anya and Pei were part of the original draft but shit got too long and it didn’t feel right to include them as a footnote.

Here are Marvel’s main solo teen women, romances, and romance history:

Kate Bishop a.k.a Hawkeye

Gender: Female

Orientation: ...Questioning? We’ll just say questioning

Love Interests: Johnny Watts aka Fuse(current), Noh-Var, Tommy Shepherd,  Eli Bradley(retconned), Clown

We are starting with Kate Bishop because she is the closest to a modern woman’s love life. She has a cult following made of predominantly white women because Kate is empowered white girl embodied. And her dating life is modern in that Kate is one of the few women in Marvel that has relationships like men and is never shamed for it. Of all the women on this list, Kate was never not the focus or seen as codependent one. In fact, she is the capable and strong personality in her current relationship with Johnny Watts. He plays the supporting role for her. However varied Kate’s romantic history is, it is the prototypical love life of a teenaged Marvel woman. Every single one of her romances are by definition superheroes or vigilantes or villains. She does not have ordinary men in her life.

Now you are probably thinking that Kate is a team character. You would be right, but I think I speak for all Kate fans is that she is exceptional in that she can and has held books before alone where her other Young Avengers can’t be assed to have an appearance. And I like Kate. She is my favorite white girl in Marvel. So here we go.

And no, I am not going to consider her rapists in Central Park as love interests, but I will say that her relationship with men and her overall independence from them even while she is in relationship with them is because of this assault. There...I said it.

Eli Bradley aka the Patriot. Kate and Eli started off from a rocky place. Kate wanting to be super strong and independent rich girl and Eli being super prideful and somewhat sexist. Eli wants to fulfill his grandfather’s legacy and feels that he has to immediately live up to him no matter what probably did not like Kate upstaging him, and Kate mistook what Eli was saying as sexist. It wasn’t that Kate was a girl that was the problem. It was that Kate was a rich white girl who chose to make rescuing herself and then making he and the Young Avengers look like idiots that was the problem. So they argue and fuss at each other all of the time.

Kate misinterprets Eli’s reluctance to have her and Cassie on the team as sexist when in fact, the team was constructed for a specific purpose and have a specific roster pool to draw from. Cassie and Kate just aren’t in it.

So Eli and Kate take each other apart and both take shots at each other.

So Kate and Eli have this tic for tac relationship which is something Kate seems to relish in while Eli seems to be abrupt with her about it.

And also, the two both have Strong Type A personalities. They both want to be the leader of the Young Avengers.

But during a fight with Kang the Conqueror, both Kate and Eli reach an impasse. 

Kate’s and Eli’s relationship starts to develop a bit and after some revelations about Eli come to the surface and the Avengers disband the Young Avengers only for the team to regroup out of spite of the Avengers. They start recruiting again, then come across Tommy Shepherd, Billy Kaplan’s brother and son of Wanda Maximoff.

And Eli doesn’t like him because Tommy seems to be a little too okay with murder and wanton acts of violence.

Kate and Eli start getting along to an extent. Eli is more of a stern individual and cuts Kate no slack. But Kate often challenges him.

And eventually they go on a date.

Uh. Excuse me. Not a date.

After getting jumped by Ronin on their Central Park, Not-A-Date carriage ride, Kate tried to calm him down after a disastrous evening.

So enough about Eli, let’s move on to Tommy.

Tommy Shepherd is the prototypical fun bad boy. He doesn’t challenge Kate to be better. He dares her to keep up. So after Kate loses her bow and arrow to the original Hawkeye aka Clint Barton in a shooting contest, she goes home feeling ashamed. Eli, still raw from their not-a-date, starts relentlessly criticizing her. Kate did not need that on-top of her embarrassment so she told Eli to fuck off and walked away. Tommy, being less stringent than Eli, talks to Kate. Tommy flirts with Kate, in front of Eli, and they both decide to go out. Tommy was not there for Eli’s and Kate’s fight so he has no idea what is going on. Kate catches him up to speed and well...

Tommy is such an awesome dude when he isn’t murderous. So Kate and Tommy break into Avengers manor and steal back her bow and arrows.

Fun and exciting, bad boy.

The two steal back her bow and arrows and it was a fun date.

Now this triangle business and Kate’s indecisiveness plays a role because eventually she starts teaming up with Clint Barton and she witnesses first hand how disastrous his love life is. But I’ll get to that later. But just to be clear, she doesn’t choose to be with either, Tommy or Eli.

Eli quit the Young Avengers after accidentally having a role in the death of Cassie Lang? It’s confusing. So with Eli’s departure, Young Avengers disbanded and thus Kate decided to team up with the other Hawkeye, Clint Barton, when the other members decided to quit.

Kate Bishop takes up an apprenticeship role under the tutelage of Clint and she helps him out on missions from time to time. There is some hint that Kate is somewhat attracted to him, but she realizes that is nasty and Clint is like twice her age. Clint, however, likes teaching her because Kate is a fast learner.

So this pairing of the Hawkeye’s became somewhat of sensation that propelled Kate to mainstream attraction. The crime busting duo became the bane of low level street thugs all over Brooklyn. But under his mentorship, Kate also saw how much of a wreck Clint’s life was. More specifically, his love life.

Clint was dating Jessica Drew at the time. But he slept with Penny, some woman he rescued, while he was dating her. Natasha is more of his work wife in a sense, you’ll have to ask Hawkeye fans if they ever dated, but she is more concerned with the fact that Clint robbed some gangsters and got arrested. Bobbi was Clint’s ex-wife...well at the time of the comic, she was his separated wife. She wants to find Clint to finalize their divorce. So Kate is dragged into this mess.

Kate witnesses what a mess Clint’s life is, and she gains one fear: to not be like Clint Barton.

Fast forward to the Young Avengers relaunch.

Kate wakes up from a booty call. And it is not some ordinary booty call. No-nonono.

Enter Noh-Varr. Like the narration says, she met Noh-Varr and he collectively kicked all of the Young Avengers asses. And I guess she is over that now and Kate and he hooked up. Noh-Varr is the silly himbo. Stupid but pretty as heck to look at.

It is hard to classify what she and Noh-Varr were because to me, they weren’t really an item as he was more like a one night stand that became a multiple night stand... Good dick is hard to find so if you find one, might as well hold on to it for awhile, am I right ladies?

Anyways, I couldn’t tell you the plot of Young Avengers 2015 because...even I was confused by it. Regardless, we are here for Kate’s love life.While facing the final...whatever the fuck they are fighting, Noh decides to confess to Kate.

And telling Kate that he was semi-seeing someone else on the side kind of drove the relationship to hell.

Anyways, we moving on. Also, America suggests something to Kate.

Another oddity in Kate’s love life is that most, if not all, of her lovers are bi. Juries out on Eli(and will probably stay that way), but both Johnny(we’ll get to him) and Noh-Varr, her only serious relationships, are bi and are attracted to each other. The irreverence that Kate has for dating should be dating because she rarely pontificates on her partners. There is no, “I wonder what X is doing.” It is all business, and rarely play. Also, we are not suggesting that women dating exclusively bi-women are bi by association. We are saying that Kate Bishop isn’t as straight as she thinks she is.

What she fears is having a love life like her mentor, Clint Barton: A fucking mess. Kate is the only young woman who has had multiple booty calls and has pulled the, “Well last night is fun, but you got to get the fuck up out of here” on a dude.

And by doing this, she is acting as self-destructive as Clint who is notorious for doing the same thing. Kate declares that she doesn’t need attachments and that the above boy was too clingy for wanting to hang out after knocking boots. He was a distraction for Kate. Miss America points out the irony of her saying something like that.

On top of everything, Kate decides to get away from Clint and heads out to Los Angeles to start a detective agency. She gets up to some high class hijinx there and in the midst of the chaos, she meets a boy.

Johnny Watts.

What I like about Johnny is that he isn’t overstepping of Kate. He is lax and is perfectly willing to step aside and let Kate be a hero and not let his male ego get wounded by the fact that his girlfriend is a kick ass superhero. Johnny also unlike Eli can keep up with Kate’s wit so their banter/flirtation is quick and rapid.

He is also supportive and understanding.

They hook up after Kate defeats Madame Masque again.

Johnny seems like a normal dude, right. There is nothing strange about him at all. So what is with the above preamble if the first Marvel heroine you mention has a normal boyfriend? Well...

Johnny absorbs the matter of anything he touches and can briefly become the item. It ranges from concrete to even vibranium. Why vibranium? Well he has a nose ring that is made of vibranium. Why does he have a nose ring made from a precious Wakandan resource? Johnny and his sister are Wakandan exiles and they kept a piece of vibranium as keepsakes.

So Johnny has powers like all of Kate’s other boyfriends and exes. When Kate forms the new West Coast Avengers, she enlists her boyfriend as her first recruit. He has issues adjusting into being a superhero, but he is learning. He takes up the alias as Fuse and he and Kate continue with their relationship without much trepidation. Until Noh-Varr comes back.

And Noh-Varr being a himbo doesn’t necessarily jive well with the relationship because Noh-Varr has no tact or grace. He is also really attractive and a pretty boy.

And then it dons on Kate that her boyfriend and her ex are attracted to one another.

All and all, Kate is the standard for super-heroine women in Marvel in.

Miss America Chavez

Gender: Female

Orientation: Lesbian

Love Interests: Ramone Watts(current),Lisa, Ultimate Nullifier

Yes, she is lesbian. Ultimate Nullifier was simply an experiment that she didn’t like after the first kiss. Like one kiss with a guy and she said, “umm nope.”

She is lesbian. She likes girls and from the general reception of the character, girls like her too.I am not going to bother covering her relationship with Ultimate Nullifier because who the fuck really cares about that guy?

I can’t tell you much about Lisa other than America isn’t necessarily a good girlfriend. 

Well she isn’t? Like there was this whole convoluted thing that made America break up with Lisa for a reason I can’t really explain and the narrative tried to paint America as in the right when she was a shitty girlfriend. I just wanted to put Lisa in there because I like to confirm that she existed and still doesn’t have a last name.

Anyways, on to the good shit.

America and Ramone met through mutual colleague and also shared friend, Kate Bishop. Kate was dating Ramone’s brother and America kept Kate around so Kate could ogle her. Anyways, Ramone was trapped in a collapsing building and America saved her and caused Ramone to have what could only be described as gay panic. So naturally, the two decided to date because...well have you seen Miss. America Chavez. If one could describe her, she would be the one woman “reason why I’m gay” justification for women.

That image alone just created like 10 lesbians.

Anyways, the two are just cute. Like I can’t even describe how the two are just cute around each other.

But no one wants to be like deadweight as Nero from Devil May Cry can attest to. So Ramone, like her brother, turn out to be exiles from Wakanda.

And then this happened.

And Allow was born. So after Alloy rescues America and the West Coast Avengers, let’s just say that America was very excited about the new development that her girlfriend has powers just like her.

And they lived happily ever after and are still the item until this day. 

Laura Kinney aka X-23 aka Wolverine

Orientation: Indecisive

Love Interests: Julian Keller,  Warren Worthington(ewwwwww)

tw: sex trafficking, rape, and incest mentions

I don’t know what I expect out of franchise spawned the likes of Wolverine being with anybody or the idea that Wanda and Pietro practicing incest or Professor Xavier being in love with Jean Grey. I honestly don’t know why I hoped they would handle this character with tact as she is the most popular X-character made in the past 20 years. God forbid I expected that the  franchise that insisted on Emma Frost mind raping Cyclops and then being an item  would actually think about Laura Kinney as a character and not do some inappropriate shit...but here we are.

Let me explain the life of one Laura Kinney in the Marvel comics and why everything about her being in a relationship with a man who is the same age physically as her father is a bad idea. We all know about the X-periment and how she was the gender flipped clone of Wolverine...or is she her biological daughter? Who the fuck knows or even cares, let me get to the point.

Laura Kinney is a victim of sex trafficking. She was pimped out and did some weird dark shitty shit and yes, it involved her claws. So her history with sex in general should be handled tactfully. Her life has been nothing but violence and death and dismemberment. And I am not saying that Laura should not find love. I am saying that a girl like Laura should not be with older men, but what do I know. It seems the X-men franchise seems to be looking for writers whose only criteria is that  you have to have a creepy fascination with Kitty Pryde.

Granted, Julian Keller aka Hellion had a relationship with Laura that allowed her to express emotions like a teenaged girl should be allowed to express without the influence of an older men. Julian’s relationship was born of resentment because Laura was not a real mutant, whatever that mean to fear that Laura was nothing but an assassin to admiration after witnessing how much Laura endured. Notice how Julian could never push or influence Laura to do things that she did not want to do. 

Warren is the same fucking age as Cyclops. If you are going to make a stink about Rachne being with Josh Foley, then why in the fuck is this 30+ year old man with a fresh faced teenaged abused girl?

I’m just saying that any character with rape and/or sex trafficking as their backstory should be handled as gracefully as possible in regards to romantic interests and sexuality. Her being with Adam is not handling gracefully.

Gwen Stacy aka Ghost Spider

Gender: Female

Orientation: ?

Love Interests: Peter Parker, Harry Osborn, Miles Morales, ...fuck it, I am going to go ahead in put Mary Jane Watson in here

Okay.

“But, Gwemj isn’t canon so why would you put that in here?”

First off, Spider-Gwen is the quintessential pinnacle of everything that is wrong with how Marvel deals with superhero romances with solo women. There is no reason why in the 4 years as of this writing, that you have yet to introduce a love interest that is Spider-man viable in the 50 issues she has starred in. There is no excuse that her first kiss was not with anybody within her supporting cast, but with another established hero. Spider-Gwen, you have an underdeveloped supporting cast and setting, and it fucking shows.

Second, it was clear that the original plan was Gwemj, but Gwen Stacy became popular and marketable so they derailed the sapphic train and landed on the most forced and out of theme romance in recent comic book history. Like for fuck’s sake, she is Spider-man for girls and women. You know how many superheroes Peter Parker dated, 3-4 if you count Kitty Pryde and every time it never worked out because they could never relate to Peter Parker.

That is the fucking point, Marvel/Latour/McGuire although the last person isn’t the biggest offender.

Giving Gwen a superhero love interest negates the fucking point of Spider-man. It is against theme and it is really sexist as shit because every male hero has a love interest that is not superpowered. Not a one woman can hook up with a non-powered boy if they are in hetero romances.

Miles Morales and Gwen Stacy is the most cynical pairing shill that I’ve ever seen.

The fact of the matter is that Gwen has the most chemistry with Mary Jane and most of her romances have been bouts of forced heterosexuality. And it is not that she is possibly heterosexual that is the problem. It is that you refuse to develop said romances and try to make sure the man involved is just as empowered as the girl for no fucking reason. 

It’s pure laziness.

Anyways, it’s hard to pindown where I should start this because the comic creates Gwen’s origin out of flashbacks so it’s hard to figure what came first.. And I guess it begins with Peter.

I’m working with assumption in trying to nail down the chronological order. Okay, Peter noted Gwen’s music in her headphones and identified it. Gwen was on that Neku Sakuraba tip except without the angry at the world attitude so she was this disheveled girl who listened to music openly and isolated herself from cast. But she wasn’t bullied or anything like Pete.

She was a cool loser.

So after their shared taste in music, Peter and Gwen become fast friends, but it is hinted that Peter had a crush on her and it more than platonic feeling for her. Anyways, Gwen’t and Peter’s duet became a 3 man band as they added residnet outcast, Harry Osborm to the crew.

Now do the math, two boys and one girl. 

It is obvious that both boys have a crush on the one girl. Now it is hard to discern Gwen’s feelings for either of the two boys because there isn’t a lot shown. But the main takeaway is that Peter was broken down by bullying. He channelled his inner Vergil because he wanted power. This universe’s Peter is the Peter we see in Ditko’s early Spider-man run without the powers and none of the growth he received later. Harry, on the otherhand, is well aware of how broken Peter is and resolves to not be like him while hoping to move in on the cute blonde.

“...They won’t break me like they broken [Peter]”

So Peter is not exactly the kid you’d say after a school shooting, no one would expect that he was the culprit. I’m pretty sure no one at Midtown would be surprised. So guess what sends Peter over the edge?

No surprise here that Peter Parker without the character growth of becoming Spider-man becomes an incel asshole.

Anyways, some time passes and Prom happens. Guess who is going stag?

No that is an actual question because I am not sure who went with whom. Did Gwen decide to go out with Harry? Are they dating? Who the fuck knows because there isn’t a lot to infer from these panels.

Judging by the clothes, Gwen isn’t dressed up or gussied up. She is wearing a white T-shirt at Prom. She doesn’t appear to be with anybody. Harry isn’t with anybody either and Peter definitely isn’t. And this is why when you make a character, you start at the beginning. This shouldn’t be background or filer. This is essential information because I assumed that we had a love triangle going on with two wayward boys pining after the same girl. It’s clear that Harry has a crush on Gwen. It’s implied that Peter had a crush on Gwen as well with his reaction and calling Harry a traitor.

It’s really unclear and it is a situation that defines Gwen’s story and stories going forward. We really don’t know what happened at prom and the first Midtown attack. We really don’t know exactly what led to Peter turning himself into the Lizard. There are inferences and implications, but nothing is concrete. This series is built on the idea that Peter Parker’s death matters without giving a reason why to care about Peter Parker. And just to remind you that while the Night Gwen Stacy Died didn’t focus on Gwen Stacy, you had nearly a hundred issues to care about her prior to her death. Gwen is not just some iconography and symbolism. She was an actual character. A bad one, but nonetheless, she had more than a few pages to get represent a character.

So after Prom was a murderous incel Lizard shitshow and Gwen stopped and accidentally killed the Lizard(Key word: accidentally because it’s not clear if Gwen killed him because it was weirdly effective punch and she toyed with him like she usually does), Spider-Gwen goes on a severe depression and isolation streak and doesn’t talk to anyone ever...possibly. Again, it is the case of Gwen’s origin not exactly being clear. We don’t know much and what we are shown was presented through flashbacks.

Until she gets wrapped up in Spider-verse and she meets several Spider-folks with most of them looking like her Peter Parker and falls into a depressive episode realizing that maybe her Peter should have been the one who was bittem and she was destined to be miserable all of her life. Following a confrontation with a grief-stricken 616 Peter Parker stating that she isn’t ‘his’ Gwen, Gwen just doesn’t want to deal with any Spider-men that look like Peter Parker or are Peter Parker. And also, she is still being tormented in her own universe by a smear campaign that unfairly places the blame of Peter’s death on her shoulders. Because of said campaign, Gwen is a fugitive and her enemy, Matthew Murderdock, is extorting her for her own powers that only he has access to and  her father’s life in exchange for working with him.

In summary, Gwen is stressed and is at a breaking point. She is miserable and facing an existential crisis that every adaptation of herself has died or suffered horrible consequences and questions if she is incapable of experiencing happiness. She has lost her Spider-power and has to rely on her sworn enemy to have them. And her whole city sees her as a murderer.

Enter Miles Morales.

I already explained why Miles was in E-65 in the previous post. I don’t need to repeat myself. But I can elaborate on why Miles was attractive to Gwen Stacy. For one, he is a Spider-man that doesn’t remind her of Peter Parker. So she isn’t feeling guilty and at least he isn’t a literal anthropomorphic pig. Two, Miles is around her age. This is debatable because in spite of what Bendis says, Miles was 15 at the time of this arc and he clearly aged Miles up so Gwen didn’t look like a cradle robber for daring to be interested in a kid4-5 years younger than she. And finally, this.

Miles presents the one alternate dimension where she is happy and with children. So combined with Miles being a nice if not horny kid and being overwhelmed with guilt and stress in her daily life. Miles starts becoming more attractive to Gwen. Which leads to....

Okey-doke.

I have made myself clear about how I feel about this ship. If you want a summary, I wish it never existed but here we are.

Anyways, Miles goes back and immediately starts pursuing more interesting love interests and Gwen continues to deal with being stressed. I am going to stop it here. But I want to posit a theory.

Spider-Gwen was supposed to be with Mary Jane or EmJay. For the longest, the tension between Mary Jane and Gwen was honestly the only non-superheroic related with the most tension and description outside of her own father and EmJay seemed focused on Gwen to an absurd degree. It wasn’t until it was reported that Marvel pinned Gwen for her popularity that they didn’t want to damage her marketability so being a lesbian superhero in Marvel is kind of a no-no in terms of profit. But GweMJ was and still is a popular ship so to appease fans, Latour basically threw MJ at Glory in a random and spontaneous manner if only to appease those fans.The issue is that Glory and MJ aren’t super prevalent in the book. I mean Glory Grant isn’t even that important to Spider-man mythos as a whole. So it became a case of pandering to the base while simultaneously throwing the lesbians away.

That is all I am going to say on this.

Kamala Khan aka Ms Marvel

Gender: Female

Orientation: Heterosexual

Love Interests: Bruno(current), Kamren, Dante Pertuz, Red Dagger, Miles Morales(one-sided), Sam Alexander(one-sided)

Ms. Marvel is a teenaged love story with superheroes. It is a romantic literature geared towards Muslim women or girls. It’s true. And I have earned the right to fucking say it. This is going to feel like I am harping on her religion, but Ms. Marvel’s religion is the core of her character and her story. Believe it or not, it is what makes her a hero. It is her “Great Power, Comes Great Responsibility.” So it’s important that we discuss how Kamala’s religion has to do with her love interests.

Anyways, let’s start from the beginning.

Bruno has had a childhood crush on Kamala Khan. This subplot is intertwined throughout the book. The struggle however isn’t because Kamala is irreproachable. Her religion is the obstacle.

Kamala’s parents would never accept Bruno Carrelli as a viable partner. In fact, homegirl is not even allowed to date without male supervision.

Kamala initially only sees Bruno as a friend. Her best friend. Don’t say ‘friend zone’ because...grow up honestly.  Kamala didn’t care for boys, but she does care about her independence. Freedom that her cultural mandated patriarchy did not afford her or at least was regimented. I am not Muslim nor a woman, but I would surmise that a lot of teenaged Muslim girls would rebel or want to rebel against such a strict culture especially when they live in America. Kamala strikes the core of conformity to the West being seen being against the Uniformity of Islam and she struggles with being too anti-Muslim to the point that she risks allowing Islamophobia or allowing the cultural misogyny of Islam to guide her and restrict her. That is the internal conflict or religious conflict that Kamala somewhat addresses and part of it has to do with marriage or partnership.

But what makes Kamala heroic is her religion and what makes her strong is her drive to be free.

“Whoever kills one person, it is as if he has killed all of mankind and whoever saves one person, it is as if he has saved all of mankind.

-the Quran

This part sticks with me because while she is quoting a heroic purpose from her religion’s text, she is using patriarchic language so that that quote isn’t referring to who she is not does it apply to her exactly.

Kamala takes the good of her culture and applies it to a purpose to be a hero while somewhat resenting the implied patriarchal stances. This is why Ms. Marvel took off and became the quintessential Muslim Western Hero and Sooraya sadly didn’t. Kamala addresses the internal conflict that a teenaged Pakistani American would have.

I am going to assume that almost every Muslim American girl knows that exact line Kamala’s mom is saying or at least a variation of it.

“But this has nothing to do with her love interests”

It does. Because if her parents control and has the final approval who she is allowed to see, that man is more than likely going to perpetuate the same cultural traditions onto her.

Feminism is a big thing for Kamala so she respects a man that doesn’t overrule her like her father does his mother and her. Which is why Bruno not being a superhero and also being her sidekick is something that she respects and desires. She wants him to assist her and not much else at first when she gained her powers. Bruno becomes her confidant and also her conduit to being Ms. Marvel.

For the bulk of the first volume of Ms. Marvel, Kamala is oblivious to Bruno’s feelings towards her. In fact, Kamala sees him as part of her aesthetic of being a superhero: he is her sidekick. I suspect Wilson didn’t want to have a girl portray a stereotype that girls constantly think of boys.So she flips it on the genders. It is Bruno whose every interaction has to do with Kamala. He is the smitten boy while Kamala is doing her Shounen hero routine. And it is not that she is oblivious to romance. She is just having too much fun being a superhero.

“Down goes Frazier! Down goes Frazier!”

I know it sounds bad and Bruno is absolutely correct, fellas. There is no such as a friend zone and seeing anyone like that shows that you really don’t care for them.

Apologetic moralizing aside, Kamala just did not see Bruno as anything, but a friend.

So Kamala simply is unaware of Bruno’s feelings. And Nakia kind of reinforces how her family feels about Kamala’s future prospects.It is less about the person and more about about the status.

Enter Kamren

Kamren came with a bit of controversy. The idea is that Kamren was supposed to be a classic villain love interest. The implication was that Muslim men are controlling and white men are liberating.

Normally, Kamala’s father and her brother, Aamir, would be seen as protective if they were in any other culture, but being Muslim and arranged marriages are a well-known and often scrutinized practice in Islam, Willow who is a white Muslim woman, unintentionally opened another can of worms: Commentary on Muslim men being evil.

Look, I am not Muslim and I know the bullet points of Islam. Never read the Quaran, but I understand that the Quaran is supposed to be read in Arabic which given the ideas of the Haj and other Muslim traditions, the religion focuses on tradition and a fidelity to that tradition. Coupled with Western Cultural Imperialism, Ms. Marvel faces the problem of delving into some muddy political waters that in every other book,would just be a typical romance trope.

So I suspect Willow meant no harm because she has been a substantial Muslim feminist champion in a political climate in which that would be an oxymoron to a lot people(Not me, but again, I understand 3rd World Feminism ideals of not seeing feminism in the same lens as the west). You can’t escape the notion that depictions matter and having Bruno, white Italian, being seen as the chief romantic interest while depicting the Muslim one as evil and controlling is going to raise an eyebrow or two.

Kamren was set up as an inevitability cultural and the narrative during this arc was made for the reader to sympathize with Bruno.

Bruno is Emineming this shit and Aamir gives him the cold hard reality.

Up to this point, Kamren has been portrayed as an otherwise decent guy. His only flaw was that he wasn’t Bruno. So of course, the facade of him being the perfect Bollywood male lead begins to come down.

“There’s no reason for you to keep wasting your energy to protect people who don’t believe what you believe.”

That is not an obvious parallel that implies some sort of cultural insensitivity. He is talking about Inhumans, but the cultural parallel to other Islamist radical groups is intentional. So swap Inhumanity with Jihadist Islam, then Kamren’s character becomes even more unsettling.

He uses victim-blaming tactics on Kamala in that she chose to be part of this InHumanist movement the moment she enetered the car with him as if he didn’t zap her body unconscious after he revealed his true intentions. Kamren is a disgusting individual and of course Kamala whoops that ass, but I wanted to point out the unfortunate implications of this romance before I moved on.

Meanwhile Bruno gets an SOS from Kamala and tries to save her. He fails miserably, but at least he has this moment.

This cover encapsulates everything about Kamala’s and Bruno’s relationship in Ms. Marvel Volume One.

And just before the end of the world, Bruno finally spits it out.

So that’s it, right? They are just friends, right? 

It’s a love story, you dumbasses. Read this like a teenaged romantic sitcom. This is just phase one.

So Volume 2 of Ms. Marvel kicks off and the world didn’t end. So you think after that awkward but somewhat romantic confession on the rooftop, Kamala and Bruno would hit it off, right?

Brno/s gay? He is with Mike now? Bruno just skyrocketed in popularity with Yaoi fangirls.

Oh, Mike’s a girl and her full name is Michaela Gutierrez ....AND SHE THICK

It’s over Kamala. You lose before you even knew that there was a game. Bruno took that no and went on and found Barbie Ferreira. Bruno figured out what a skinny girl can do that big girl can’t. Answer: Not a goddamn thing! Ahead of his time, really.

Nothing against Mike, she is delightful and honestly, I’m cool with it. Sure, she is destined for failure because she is in the way of the OTP, but goddammit, put both hands up for the big girls.

Kamala takes it personally and decides to give her not-boyfriend the cold shoulder.

Now, if you are a guy and you think Kamala is being a bit of a hypocrite, you are not thinking about this optically. Bruno confessed that he loved her on that rooftop. That is not some shit you just say capriciously especially to your best friend. It looks like on the surface that Bruno just happened to have a backup just in case Kamala said no thus making his confession not as genuine. If you are pursuing someone as much as Bruno was to the point that he confesses love to that person, you don’t have back-ups like that. It makes his confession seem less genuine.

And yes, Kamala is being jealous and she hates that Bruno unintentionally made a scenario to make her jealous. Because if she had known about Mike instead of being blindsided like she was, then maybe she could have managed that moment on the rooftop better, but it feels like to her that Bruno just gave up and it drives her crazy to see it rubbed in her face.

In defense of Bruno, there is no set time when you are expected to get over someone that rejected you after confessing something. And maybe 6 months is too soon for Kamala, but if she had a problem with him being with anyone and needing to be told, then maybe she isn’t being honest with herself.

Also, sidenote to all writers of superheroines: this dialogue about a sub-plot is what you miss out on if you refuse to approach romance.

Anyways, It sucks to realize that you love someone and possibly took them for granted when you see them with someone else.

Oh and now your best friend who confessed his love for you is now having safe sex with another woman(implied).

Yeah, I’d be a little miffed too.

Since Kamala and Bruno are on break, I’m going to touch and go on their situation because at this point, Kamala’s popularity afforded her several appearances and a lot boys from outside her comic book did a double take.In summary, Kamala’s milkshake brought all the boys to the yard.

First is Miles Morales.

Let me just say that Sara Pichelli draws a gorgeous Kamala Khan. I mean she just makes beautiful teenaged girls in general for some reason. The boys are always ordinary looking, but the girls are always trendy or fashionable or bombshells if not all three.

Anyways, Miles has a definite crush on Kamala, but unlike Sam who I will get to later, he is mostly lowkey about it when they interact. He is also a very supportive friend of hers and honestly her and Kamala are like Peter Parker and Johnny Storm.What is weird about it is that there is no on-page formal first meeting between the two. So we never see when or why Miles revealed his identity to Ms. Marvel. I guess there was a miscommunication between Bendis and Waid and Wilson.

There isn’t much on page thoughts from Kamala about Miles as she mostly kept the air living up to be a hero she admires the most, Carol Danvers. Again, Karol is the model of typical Marvel heroine. As far as I’ve read, Carol doesn’t really have much in the way of romance compared to Spider-man who as @traincat​ would say, is a Himbo(yes, I am going to keep plugging her so you guys can follow her because she is the only Peter Parker expert that I respect). So her and Miles relationship is professional friendship. There was a time when Bruno mentioned something that implied Kamala gushes about a Spider-man’s abs, but that could be just jealousy and it never states which Spider-man he was talking about. All in all, she is not interested in Miles and Miles is interested in her, but respects her too much to act on it. Until Miles confuses an Infinity Stone for a mood stone and spills the beans to her.

Kamala doesn’t return the gesture and it is seen as a way to lightly put Miles down which is okay because he handles it like a champ.

Next is Sam Alexander aka Nova.

He is a little less tactful than Miles about his attraction to Kamala since he immediately hits on her upon first meeting.

Kamala of course thinks he is a brash idiot who shows-off too much.

Sam is persistent in their first meeting, but keeps on hitting the wrong marks and saying the wrong things at inappropriate times.

Sam pretty much can’t take a hint and eventually catches Ms. Marvel in the middle of changing costumes.

*insert the sound of an airplane falling and crashing*

So Kamala and Sam don’t initially like each other as initially, Kamala thought she was being mean to Sam unintentionally and Sam thought he was being idiot. They are both right in their own way, but in the end, Sam sees Kamala as an uptight do-gooder personality and Kamala sees Sam as a reckless jerk. Which has a lot to do with their powersets because Sam is not really meant to be doing street level crime or protection.

And finally we have Dante Pertuz aka Inferno. Now this is one time where Kamala’s interested in a guy and not the other way around or at least it is implied by a third party.

Over the course of Secret Warriors, Kamala and Dante interact and while nothing is initially made out of it, Dante and Quake hook up and Kamala appears to be jealous and annoyed that Dante likes Quake mainly because Kamala does not like Daisy Johnson.

Now we could take Daisy’s word for it, but again, she is kind of a jaded jerk so take it with a pinch of salt. Kamala also denies it.

Ms. Kamala not only shoots down her own ships, but she also bombs other people’s, sheesh.

Now that is done, let’s get back to the main attraction.

Kamala and Bruno and now Mike pretty much go back and forth. Bruno makes kissey faces at Mike, and Mike returns them while Kamala dies a little inside. Bruno is pretty much that guy from the meme who is with his girlfriend, but he keeps looking at the girl they pass and Mike is not a moron and knows that she is pretty much the Cyrano and is conscious of this fact. It hurts because Mike is actually a cool character and her and Kamala become good friends in spite of having the same romantic attraction to Bruno. While Bruno did care for Mike, he could not help but be jealous of the men Kamala encounters as Ms. Marvel such as Spider-man(not sure which). 

Point is that this entire comic is a delicious mess and should be read with the same intention as the audience of Dawson’s Creek.

Eventually, Kamala starts to realize that her idol has a huge authoritarian streak and implements her version of Hitler Youth to patrol Ms. Marvel’s turf. And I think this is a something we need to address in regards to Carol. Yes, she is good, but she is socially aware as a....white woman. No really, she does not stop to think as to why people of color would not be too for a system that arrests people because they are foreseen to commit a crime. It’s profiling or in this case assisting in racial profiling. I always found it weird that of all people, a Pakistani first generation born American would idolize her. But that had to do with Kamala’s own self-hatred than anything Carol was.It is like being a Mexican Trump Supporter.

Anyways, Kamala is reluctant, but she joins Carol’s little SS and starts putting people in detention camps. And people are pissed. People like Bruno are pissed.

So Bruno decided to break Josh, who was wrongfully detained on the suspicion of wanting to bomb a school. Kamala goes and tries to stop him from breaking in the detention center.

Well....

Shit.

This haunts Kamala. You see, Bruno and Kamala are close obviously, but for once, it was her ambivalence that nearly got him killed. She wants so desperately to be her own ideal hero that she completely neglected her own support system in pursuit of being accepted by Carol.People like to point to Kamala’s fandom in superheroes as a main characteristic, but neglect to mention that it was Bruno introducing her to the world superheroes that started it in the first place. It was Bruno who introduced her to Ms. Marvel. 

Bruno becomes paralyzed on his left side.I haven’t mentioned this, but Bruno is an inventor. He creates things and he is also left handed. So his dream was in jeopardy because he was willing to help Kamala out with her dream. So Kamala feels guilty as fuck.

Bruno decides to take a trip to Wakanda and get some schooling. Thus making Bruno the first white boy to be legally allowed to learn in Wakanda.

I’m as surprised as you are. I mean Wakanda gives a scholarship to some white boy in New Jersey, but rejects Lunella Lafayette. Ain’t that some shit?

So just to recap on this drama, Kamala turned down Bruno in favor of superheroism. Bruno got with Mike. Kamala becomes jealous, but Mike is cool so can’t bring herself to hate her. Bruno is jealous that Kamala is hanging out with superhero studs like Spider-man. Mike is just tired of being overlooked for an apparently nice girl. Bruno is annoyed that Kamala is siding with Carol’s harebrained George Orwell fanfiction idea over her friends and decides to break everyone out. He gets injured in the process and leaves New Jersey, but not before lashing out at Kamala for not appreciating him.

A fucking teenaged love story, I tell you.

And the only person happy is the gay one. tsk...

So the two are basically apart at this point. Bruno is on a no-speaking terms with Kamala and Kamala is respecting that. This cover pretty much sums it up.

Kamala took Bruno for granted and Bruno resents Kamala for taking for granted. And of course, it did bomb his relationship with Mike because he is resenting a relationship with a girl that is not currently his girlfriend. But with Bruno in Wakanda getting reverse affirmative action, that means Ms. Marvel is taking a break from romance, right?

Kamala’s milkshake be bringing boys from across the ocean.

Okay, this is Red Dagger aka Kareem. Kamala first met Kareem when she visited her cousins in Pakistan with and without costume. Get your head out of the gutter, they met eachother while they were in civillian identity and superhero alias without connecting the two. Lareem eventually moved to New Jersey because he studied abroad from which Kamala quickly deduced that his identity.

So the two have a team-up from which Kamala feels uneeded so she runsaway and  attends a private school without anyone, even her parents knowing(and people wonder why I felt that Wilson’s Ms. Marvel read like a Saturday Morning Cartoon). Eventually she comes out of it with absolutely no consequences for abandoning her superhero duty because she felt unneeeded and forcing her friends to fight crime in New Jersey in her stead. Whatever, Red Dagger feels bad for making Kamala feel unappreciated and...

This is nice.

That is right, Kamala, You get over your ex, by getting underneath another person. I mean, girl you bold. You went to your boy interest’s former place of employment and hangout spot, and made out on top of the roof. Extra thot points for making him watch another man’s tongue down your throat.

I’m kidding, but yeah, ackwarrrrrrd.

Of course, Bruno and Kamala talk about that situation and Kamala swears that it didn’t happen to spite him in spite of it happening on top of Circle Q. They eventually reconcile and get back on speaking terms and then...

Mike catches the pair holding hands. Actually not what it looks like. Kamala was helping Bruno up the stairs. So much drama. 

Kamala freaks out because she thinks she is a two timing thot because she out here kissing men and thotting and shit. So she runs to her Masjid in hopes to get some spiritual help for her crisis.

So Kamala has a confessional with a third party and surprisingly, he subverts the entire stereotype of Muslim religious patriarch.

He tells her that he laments not teaching young Muslim people in his Masjid to not know how to properly be themselves and not know how to deal with their feeling. He also laments not teaching their parents to not give stern warnings in place of recalling what is like to feel like you are in love for the first time thus giving kids an echo chamber because they don’t feel safe to talk to their parents about this for fear of admonishment.

He tells Kamala to be true to herself unleash the inner thot....I’m kidding.

He tells her to be true to herself and be real with Bruno.

I think this is the most important scene in Ms. Marvel because too many times, media has used the Muslim patriarch as this oppressive tool to admonish Islam as a faith.Is it sexist? Yeah. I can’t lie about that shit, but ultimately it is up to those women who practice it to reform it and modern male muslims tend to be more open to feminism especially if it doesn’t come from white feminism brand that loves to target those cultures.

Anyways, back to the drama, Mike and Bruno break up. Kamala and Red Dagger end things amicably. And now it is a rat race to see how long it takes for Kamala and Bruno to finally hook up because why not? If you have been reading up to this point, you know what is about to happen so I’m going to get straight to the point.

Nadia Van Dyne aka Wasp

Gender: Female

Orientation: Not interested in boys in the very least, but girls who like science....that is a jam so...sapiosexual lesbian

Potential Love interests: Amber

So Nadia Van Dyne is the daughter of Hank Pym who took after the last of Hank Pym’s abused ex-wife, Janet Van Dyne.You should all read the first two volumes of Unstoppable Wasp because Nadia in general was a welcome, wholesome surprise for me. Regardless, I am not just here to gush about Nadia, but explore her love interests, but to be honest, she doesn’t have any so this will be pure speculation and subtext until otherwise stated.

So what is different about Nadia is her disinterest in all things of the opposite sex and her interest in all things about science. She was raised in an Assassin/Scientist school where Nadia was trained to be a super scientist assassin along with other young people. She is a genius, but Nadia developed a love for science. When she was freed from the Red Room, Nadia kept her love for science and sought to make sure all girls like herself could be allowed to express their love for science without a glass ceiling. So she wanted to recruit a science girl gang of sorts.

You could make an argument that Nadia is ace and I wouldn’t argue against you. However, as you can see, it is easy to write off character interactions as that when in actuality they are underdeveloped. I think Nadia is a sapiosexual lesbian because her attraction directly correlates with how intelligent a person the person is. And she hates overly intelligent scientific men like Peter Parker and somewhat resents her abusive father as they kept a glass ceiling in the intelligencia of academic science that chased women out. However, any woman with a compelling interest in science immediately piques her interest. And sure, we could say that this attitude is fostered due to her mission statement of uplifting women of science and girl geniuses in the place of attraction towards said girls, but sometimes we forget that no matter how wholesome Nadia is, she is still a teenager.

This Amber and I’d say that this was the first and only time Nadia exhibited an actual crush on somebody.And sure, Nadia’s innocence could be taken to mean that she was just being her normal bubbly self, I want to take note that she really didn’t ask about Amber’s scientific prowess. She complimented her looks first and then her tattoos and then she saw the Teleforce Tattoo. 

But just like the others on this list, Amber could not just be a normal girl. Nope, she had to be a supervillain.

I am just pointing out a pattern. Boys need their love interests to be non-superpowered and not necessarily the physical equal. Girls have to have their romantic counterparts be just as physically capable as them.

Amber aka Seeker becomes a rival to Nadia until they realized that they aren’t necessarily enemies of each other as the real threat was an Ultron merged Hank Pym who wants to take over the world or whatever does Ultron want to do anymore. Who knows?

So Seeker and her AIM Anti-Ultron think tank joined Nadia’s GIRL. And we never knew what happened between her and Nadia.

Riri Williams aka Ironheart

Gender: Female

Orientation: ?

Love Interests: Xavier King, Viv Vision

Okay, Riri is a bit complicated because her story goes as this: 

Girl goes to school.

Girl becomes bored with school.

Girl starts acting out because she is bored with school.

Girl gets tested and it is revealed that she is a super genius.

Parents of girl freak out because they realized that by boring her, they could have made the next super-villainess.

Girl is then handled with care to ensure that she is not alone all of the time thinking about her inventions and struggles to make human connections because she is smarter than everybody in her neighborhood.

Girl meets another girl who becomes her best friend.

Girl’s best friend and her super nice step dad die in a drive-bye shooting.

Girl decides to close herself off again and be stuck working on her inventions.

So it makes sense that Riri has problems making connections with people. Or Bendis didn’t really bother to give the girl a romantic interest so he hastily came up with one. Xavier King.

Xavier King didn’t get much characterization until Eve Ewing took over and he went from boy that Riri Williams might have fancied to being Riri Williams’ Ron Stoppable to her Kim Possible.

She is the hypercompetent woman and she is pretty much the silly sidekick. I can’t say that the two are dating or romantically inclined, but I can say that I love their friendship

Xavier doesn’t necessarily become a boyfriend. He has a better role: he is her best friend.

He makes her laugh and most importantly, she feel comfortable around him. Which leads us to someone who isn’t as warm....physically....or is she? What is the temperature of synthezoids?

When Riri joined the Champions, her communication skills continued to be sorely lacking. She kind of kept to herself and really only got along with Nadia, Amadeus, and Viv Vision. Just to be clear, she only got along with the geniuses as Miles was too friendly and somewhat got on her nerves. Kamala simply avoided Riri and gave her space and everyone else except for Miles apparently followed suit.  Viv on the other hand doesn’t quite have a grasp on social cues yet.

And the two socially awkward girls connect. Riri and Viv get along quite well. The girls didn’t really advance their friendship until Riri did something monumentally stupid: she tried to take on Thanos.

So after that humiliating shitkicking, Riri pretty much developed PTSD and our favorite synthezoid decided to check on her teammate.

And Viv consoled Riri and the two decide to make Riri a new Iron Man armor.

The end result.

Girls don’t want flowers. They want cool power armor.

Viv and Riri sort of connect more with Viv letting her pet synthezoid hang our with Riri and Riri being the most open to her. And Viv read too much into this cordial relationship between her and Riri...and well...

now I’d like to point out that this isn’t because Riri doesn’t swing that way. On the contrary, it isn’t the gender that Riri had a problem with in regards to Viv. It is the invasion of space that turned Riri off. You have to ask Eve Ewing and Jim Zub, but Riri never explicitly stated that it was orientation incapability that turned her away from Viv. It was because Viv made her feel uncomfortable.

And Viv’s unawareness as to why exactly kissing Riri was distressing to Riri didn’t help.

And this is why Riri actively stayed away from Champions’ related activities for the majority of the run. Viv made her uncomfortable and Riri decided to keep her distancing while still reaching out to Kamala and Nadia.Later Riri was mind controlled by Blackheart who brewed those fears and emotions towards Viv and made those insecurities toxic and violent. So under his manipulation, Riri knocked out Viv and the rest of the Champions.

Riri went for the killing blow, but Viv 2.0(long story) rebooted and took over for the then comatose Viv. 

THE GIRLS ARE FIGHTING!

Viv rounds up the remaining Champions and Blackheart mind controls the Champions that Riri took out. There was a final battle and Viv eventually took control of her own body and finally confessed to Riri and apologized.

So after the battle between the Champions and Blackheart, Riri and Viv have a heart-to-heart.

So this is all for part 1 for now. It took forever. I may do some updates on characters because it is a growing and developing story for characters. But this is mainly for Marvel. I don’t know if I want to tread the minefield that is DC love interests because that shit is crazy. I also have been trying to figure out wht to do with inner team romances like X-Men, Inhumans, Avengers Academy, Runaways, and etc. So those Nico and Karolina fans, I am aware of y’all and I didn’t forget. It is just that this takes time. Be patient.

Thanks for reading and I hope you have a great day.

@ubernegro​

[extrovertedrei]

“I’ll always save you”

{pairing: hero! todoroki shoto x reader}

{violence, injuries}

Characters are aged up to 18+ just to note!

I had a lot of fun writing this one! I just love writing for Shoto! Anyways, hope you all like it!

~~~

You could hear the mumbles of Shoto as he spoke to someone on the phone while entering the home you two shared. He often came home late so to have him here before the clock showed 6 pm was a nice treat for once.

“Shoto! Welcome home!”

Your cheerful voice seemed to make the whole room light up, especially whenever you were happy. Shoto walked into the living room, hanging up the phone and making his way towards you.

You were seated on the large and plush couch, your legs folded underneath you. He let out a heavy breath before sitting next to you which caused your brows to flick upwards in concern.

“Shoto...what’s wrong...?”

He paused before turning his face to you. His two-colored eyes had a dull look to them. He had been staying up much later these past few weeks just to satisfy the demanding hours of a Pro Hero job.

“Nothing, I’m just...exhasuted.”

The pause unsettled you a bit. Why was he so reluctant to just say what was going on? Did he not want to worry you?

“Shoto...”

The way you said his name made something in him shatter. Your tone held concern and disappointment. He didn’t want to come off as rude, it just happened to happen that way.

He was about to say something else when a loud noise erupted from the dining room. It sounded as though every window in the whole home shattered to a million pieces. Pounding footsteps rang out as a figure came through the doorway, a malicious grin on their hooded face.

“Todoroki Shoto...and his little lover...”

The voice was raspy like they hadn’t had a drop of water in weeks. Light blue hair was seen peeking out the hood of the figure.

“Shigaraki...”

Shoto stood up quickly in front of you. His eyes narrowed at the villain. Why was he here? How did he find out where he lived?

“Oh, don't be so hasty! I’m not here for you!”

The way he worded that sent chills down your spin. If not for Shoto, who else here would he be after?

You.

The next few seconds were a blur. One moment you were sitting on the couch fairly confused. The next your feet dangled off the ground a few inches as four fingers held you up by the neck.

“Move and I place my fifth finger.”

So this person, Shigaraki was what Shoto called them, had a touch-activated quirk? You couldn’t lie, the situation was scary. You were close to being killed instantly, according to the serious tone of the intruder, and you were struggling to breathe.

“Let them go! Your troubles are with me!”

Shoto may have yelled that but he couldn’t do much. He was stood a few feet away, his shoulders spiked up and tense.

“Why should I? I mean...”

Crimson red eyes with dry skin around them looked at you. They had a hunger for bloodlust in them, something only the worst of killers could ever have.

“It would be so easy to kill them!”

His grip tightened and made you squeak out in panic with what little bit of oxygen you had left. You weren’t sure if you could stay conscious at this point.

“...Sho...Shoto...”

Shoto’s eyes snapped to your frame. He saw how limp you were, your eyes just barely anything more than a sliver open. Dread filled him. At this rate, you would die before Shigaraki could even use his quirk.

“I said let them go!”

“Like I said, why should I?”

Shigaraki was momentarily distracted by Shoto. This gave you one chance, a single moment to try and get yourself out of this situation.

You managed to find enough strength to move your leg, swaying it back a bit before launching it at Shigaraki’s gut. He doubled over in pain and released you. You fell harshly to the wood floor and scrambled up to move towards Shoto.

However, you didn’t get that chance.

Shigaraki recovered from your attack quickly and lunged at Shoto. He tackled him and they fought fist to fist for a few minutes.

What could you do? He was a dangerous villain and Shoto would just get held back by you. You weren’t as strong as him.

“Get out of here! I’ll be fine!”

Shoto’s voice called out to you as he got off the ground and planted his right foot on the ground, ice starting to spread from it like webs.

“I can deal with him! Just get out of here!”

You didn’t want to listen to his words but you knew you should. It took you a moment but you rushed out of the home into the streets of your neighborhood. Thanks to all the noise from your house lots of your neighbors were outside with confused looks. You didn’t have to try and explain it however, multiple police cars showing up and already being informed of the situation. Apparently your security system alerted them already.

It took an hour or so just sitting in a police car until they updated you on the situation. Shigaraki had gotten away and while Shoto was alive, his condition was critical. The officers tried to comfort you best they could but nothing could distract you from the fact that Shoto was hurt.

You had to see him.

It took a bit of convincing but they let you ride in the ambulance with Shoto. Even the paramedics seemed to take some pity on you. However, the sight inside the ambulance was something you don’t think you could ever forget.

Blood matted his snow-white hair and blended with the crimson side. His eyes were closed tightly while his fists were clenched. His clothes were messed up or even disintegrated in some areas and multiple scratches, forming bruises, and a large gash on his leg seemed to be the main injuries he had.

It took a lot in you to not throw up.

You knew Pro Hero work was dangerous but for him to get this hurt in your own home. Home is supposed to be a place for you two to relax and try to be normal. Now that was taken away.

You knew he was going to be fine. The paramedics reassured you that is was nothing they couldn’t fix. That didn’t make you any less sad.

You sat next to him in the ambulance. They had asked to look at your neck a bit and see if Shigaraki had caused any bad damage. Nothing that was serious, slight bruising but it didn’t hurt much. You would’ve denied their help anyways. Shoto was more important.

The ride to the hospital was long.

You were still on the way when Shoto’s eyes slowly opened. He saw you first thing and all his worry melted away,

“Hey...”

You said with a slight whisper, leaning over in your seat to be closer to him. A small smile crossed his face. Even when he was hurt he was able to smile, that filled you with some relief. Surely he was going to be fine.

“You saved me.”

Your shaky voice said this quickly before he could say anything. His small smile turned to an amused grin.

“Of course...”

He managed to say that much before wincing a little in pain. It seemed to just hit him now that he woke up.

“Hey, take it easy-”

“I’ll always save you.”

He cut you off quickly and weakly moved to hold your hand. His fingers intertwined with your own.

“Shoto...?”

“I promise...I’ll always save you...”

[kob131]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y4DPZGlNP8I

I was watching MangaKamen’s video deconstructing Cvit’s Persona 5: Style Over Substance video and I...I just couldn’t watch it. Basically, Kamen’s own videos on RWBY and Cvit’s Persona 5 video are way too similar (in that both make logical fallacies just to avoid their assumptions.) So, despite covering this briefly, I’ll do it in full here.

And if MangaKamen himself sees this: You can’t keep responding to people, criticizing them for stuff that you do yourself. I literally couldn’t listen to your video on Cvit because of the hypocrisy. Stick to your own standards: people respect you more for it.

P.S. Don’t create a circlejerk in the reblogs and replies. I do not have the patience for it today.

Before I begin, I should point out a small bit of hypocrisy. In his “Cvit Doesn’t Understand Video”, he complains about an influx of videos all about going into unnecessary details about how X things suck, calling it the ‘Joseph Anderson effect.’ I bring this up because one of the videos he brings up is The Cosmonaut Variety Hour’s video on Kingdom Hearts (which is, being generous, 22 minutes.) MangaKamen’s video is, again generously, 38 minutes. And I do mean generaously because I automatically rounded up Cosmonaut’s and rounded down Kamen’s videos. I don’t think he should be complaining about that. 

While you could argue he was also complaining about the title as well: A. Kamen’s first RWBY video was literally titled “Whats Wrong With RWBY?!” with a title saying “Here’s why RWBY Sucks” in big bold letters. B. His video makes fun of people who are there to disagree with his title and nothing else and C. I watched Cosmonaut’s video on Kingdom Hearts: He’s actually more positive towards Kingdom hearts 3 than Kamen is to RWBY.

This is a small microcosism of he issue with his hypocrisy: it ends up affecting the quality of other videos too.

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His first section is on ‘contrivances’ or ‘things that happen in a story that don’t make sense’. Before he even gives a true example, we run into yet another problem with Kamen. In his explanation, Kamen mocks the scene were Jaune gets hit on by the mothers of the kids he’s helping with an image of Miles Luna saying ‘Remember, NOT a self-insert!’.

Issue? The episode wasn’t written by Miles Luna, it was written by Eddy Rivas. How do I know?

The episode says so. This is especially egregious because he chews Cvit out for just typing in “Persona 5 sucks” into google and saying a certain source popped up...and yet typing in “Miles Luna Jaune Arc Self Insert” would actually bring up something that outright shows Miles is self conscious about Jaune to the point of avoiding his scenes (https://www.reddit.com/r/RWBY/comments/7x3w4s/crwby_ama_w_miles_luna_kerry_shawcross_and_paula/du5dnc6/?context=3). So while Cvit may have been looking for evidence instead of thinking critically: he at least took the effort of doing a search result whereas Kamen probably made an on the spot decision with no sources whatsoever. Combine this with the fact this is not the first time he’s taken potshots at Miles and you have an effectively WORSE version of what he says Cvit did.

“But this is just a joke!” Yeah, and Sham-Amon was a joke about M. Night Shamalyan by Doug Walker. That doesn’t mean it wasn’t an insult and was correct (Shamalyan was actually a reason why the Airbender movie even RESEMBLED the cartoon.) That doesn’t make this okay, especially since I know a similar ‘joke’ towards someone he’s a fan of would get you a video made on you.

Now onto one of his examples: He says it makes no sense for Robyn to be allowed to run for Atlas’ council because ‘she is stealing supplies from the government.’ Issue is: judging by the footage he’s using, he’s talking about Volume 7 Episode 5 “Sparks” where Robyn created a blockade and stopped a supply truck Qrow, Clover, Penny and Ruby were on. She never actually makes a move to steal the supplies in the episode though. While you could argue it wwas implied because she had people behind them hiding behind camoflague-

In his Cvit video, he criticized the guy for saying that we don’t know how long Futaba’s friend was abused by her parents when Cvit makes the argument that the friend was abused for over a decade, never entertaining other possibilities. You know, what he does. (P.S. Sparks is the same episode with the Jaune-Mothers ‘joke’.)

He uses this faulty and hypocritical point to jump off into how it would be a bad look for her to steal from the government even if it was for a good cause and that most government prevent people from running because of this. See, not only is this still based on a point even Kamen would argue is not enough- The context in the scene (that Mantle hates Atlas government and Robyn’s platform is based off that discontent...Huh) would show that even if she was stealing, it would HELP her image. As for the ‘governments prevent people convicted of theft for running for office’- She hasn’t stolen anything yet STILL. Also, in his Cvit video, he complains about a point where Cvit’s source edited out preceding text to make the phrasing of a certain textbox look extremely awkward. So again, hypocrisy.

Then we have...another shitty joke. A really bad one too. It’s the scene with Weiss and Winter talking the training room with the audio taken out and speech bubbles that say ‘Why are we just staring at each other?’ ‘I dunno...just to look cool?’. Not only is this blatantly not what is happening (you can tell their heads are bobbing from talking), I literally cannot take this ‘joke’ any other way than a malicious potshot at the show. It doesn’t function any other way. I’m trying to be calm and concise but this stuff really harms any benefit of doubt I can give.

His next point is-Oh god damnit, the fucking Penny frame up AGAIN. You know what is more frustrating than a shitty point? A shitty point repeated ad nauseum. Before Kamen even made this video, I had already argued every single perspective of this. There’s literally nothing new he can give?

Security? We never see how Tyrian got in and considering his immense agility and stealth: he could snuck in or hid in the warehouse.

Fanaus night vision? Not all Fanaus have night vision and most of the crowd was seen trying to rush out of the warehouse (during a scene Kamen shows no less). He also says the show alludes to Atlas being a racially biased system...even though Jacques Schnee says he pays all his workers equally (AKA he treats all his workers like shit.)

Scrolls? Again, most of the people are shown trying to run away and no one who remains is said to have brought their scrolls.

Break in the argument for a smug laugh even though all he’s done is repeat other people’s failed arguments. (Issue with either being bitch basic with your arguments or copying others? I’ll have fought the issue long before you make it.)

Ends with saying “When the lights come back on, there’s no blood on Penny’s blades!” (Cognitive bias against Atlas. Like say, calling a character a self insert over a scene that wasn’t written by the person.)

He goes onto say that this is just the latest example of contrived writing but because his points are all faulty, it doesn’t come across as contrived: it comes across as normal but Kamen is too focused on making everything look as bad as possible.

“But what about Robyn’s Semblance?!”

I dunno, why do people say that the Covington Catholic kids are still racist when we have proof otherwise? Cognitive bias is a thing. Robyn wouldn’t try testing this (even assuming she COULD since it would be logical Penny just ran off after this in fear) because it al ready confirms her own biases.

His whole temper tantrum here is all based on around pure logic...something he himself has argued against in media. This thing goes on and on and it just test my paitence and gives me more and more reason to assume Kamen isn’t just missing info, he’s indulging in willful ignorance.

Then we have him bitching about Yang and Blake telling Robyn what is going on and how it’s contrived that they would think that Robyn was on their side since she hasn’t done anything good. Issue? This is all based on KAMEN’S perspective. A perspective that, at best, is heavily biased against Robyn.

Thing is, Robyn’s thefts (which began AFTER he said they did) were to help repair the break in Mantle’s wall protecting them from the Grimm, something Team RWBY agrees with. Of course they’d assume Robyn is a good guy since she’s acting in the interests of the people, something they do as well. Robyn’s only bad when you completely ignore how James brushes over the current struggles of the people is elected to protect and serve in order for his bigger picture, a method they don’t agree with. Something the show is showing isn’t a good idea as people see him as uncaring and unfeeling to their struggles. 

“But Ironwood has been helping them!”

Cool. That has nothing to do with him alienating his own allies through his paranoia, causing Yang and Blake try and make peace with Robyn themselves. There’s also the fact that the team should be opposing this. After all, it’s the same thing Ozpin did to them and they chewed him out over it. And unlike with the lying to Ironwood, there would be no hints that this hypocrisy would be intended by the showrunners. So Kamen is literally advocating for bad writing here.

This was added in post edit by the way so the man literally shoved in a point that does nothing but push the theory he is biased without ever considering what is necessary in the show. Even though he demands it from others. It’s really inconsistent. Dare I say...the standards are contrived?

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Next is the ‘design work’ part. He’s says this is gonna be positive for a moment and it does lack his usual malice. Doesn’t mean it’s good.

He criticizes the designs of the main cast besides Ruby. He says that Blake’s design now emphasizes the color white despite supposedly being black before. Issue is that her alternate Vol.2 and Vol.4 designs also emphasized the color white and her original design has equal part black and white. Weiss’s is supposedly that her dark blue dominates her design and is too busy to be elegant. Issue is that it’s only on the jacket and it’s mostly the same color as her previous design (even having more white.) As for being elegant: I could definitely argue it goes for a military-esque elegance. And Yang is...too brown? Uh...her original outfit was dominated by being brown.

He praises Ruby’s for still having it’s red coloring but...it’s too red. Her original design was actually closer to being goth than Blake’s and was mostly black with bright red frills and her signature cloak. And her hair has drastically changed, like he complained about with Blake.  He really shouldn’t be giving Ruby a pass here.

I have nothing to say about his point ‘they’re all too busy.’ I feel like any side I take will be too heavily influenced by my own feelings at this point.

He complains about the logic behind the long fabrics being easy to grab onto and says that because they justified the new outfits with ‘it’s cold’ they should listen here. Issue- Not only are these two different trains of logic but by his own arguments, he should be arguing for all of them to wear white and wear bulky armor since that’s logical as well, following his logic. He doesn’t set what the limit should be.

Honestly this whole part is just kind of fluff. A lot of nothing was said and kind of feels like it was put in just to make the argument ‘Well I said something nice about RWBY!’

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Next up is ‘consistency’. ... Oh god.

“Aura was rewritten!’ He never cites what happened here but I know this dance so well I could get paid for it. Aura has always been a thing you needed to activate, back in Volume 1 where Jaune was cut by a branch and Pyrrha said ‘why don’t you use your aura?’. The supposed inconsistency comes from WOR: Aura saying it was passive even though certain definitions and uses of passive work under these examples. He also says that people cant use their Semblances when they run out of Aura but they still do, citing that old example of Yang’s Aura flickering in her character short. Flickering, not breaking. Meaning she still has Aura.

He also adds in that point about the WOR Atlas saying that the cold of Solitas killed the Grimm. While they are depicted as freezing here, it should be noted that the Grimm have been known to evolve and adapt. Meaning they could have easily evolved to withstand the cold. Again, editing out context which he says is bad.

“Hey, Miles. Kerry. You ever gonna acknowledge what you showed in the World of Remnant again these days?”

Dunno, are you ever gonna acknowledge what you say in your own videos? Glass houses Kamen.

I also find it funny that he calls out the ‘it’s just a cartoon!’ thing out of nowhere on a tangent even as he previously blocked me over this. Apparently contrivance is okay if it can be used as a shield. And if he has a problem with this, look over your videos not even just the RWBY ones You have said harsher- deal with it.

He goes onto criticize the argument of not all Fanaus have night vision because of specific moments...with Blake and Sun, only two Fanaus. In fact, the first example has him say that Blake and Sun used their night vision to escape a White Fang meeting. ... White Fang. Fanaus. He’s trying to argue that this is a case of Blake and Sun having night vision to contrast when she apparently ‘doesn’t’ but never notices that his own argument kind of confirms what the show said.

Then we have his other example of Blake against Illa were she couldn’t see Illa. A chameleon Fanaus. With camoflague. Where lighting up the room would alter how the colors look to see her more easily. ....

This whole point was about how the show doesn’t give strict rules to the Fanaus night vision, even though other shows with more fundamental powers (as in, the thing their premise is based on) bend these rules (like MHA with so many Quirks not being related to their physiology or Jojo bending every single Stand rule) for their plot. This isn’t directly bad as he says it is and he never emphasizes why anyone should care other than the strawman of ‘STRICT RULES!’ even as his own favorites don’t follow that.

He also says there’s no repercussions for the Penny cover up since he says it was to cause a riot to attract the Grimm but the Grimm disappear and people are being arrested for their rioting in  the next episode. ... The Grimm don’t invade until Episode 9. He’s talking about Episode 7. The arrest was for breaking curfew that Ironwood imposed afterwards to due the discontent from Jacques winning. Then we have the fact that Penny’s frame up leads to Robyn actually stealing supplies, which leads to Yang and Blake telling her about Amity, which leads to Ironwood’s paranoia taking over. So you know...kind of some of the biggest repercussions in the show.

I also remember he said it was to frame Penny in his contriavances section...which makes no sense if it was meant to cause a riot directly afterward. In trying to callout inconsistencies that don’t exist, he became inconsistent himself.

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Next part is “Don’t Show, Never Show”. .... How professional.

He begins by bitching at other people for misrepresenting his arguments about the Fanaus and how their oppression isn’t well shown. ... After he’s personally attacked the creators over a subject one of them is innocent and self conscious of and will mock that person for mocking his critics. Classy.

“Jacques is Orange Man bad stand-in-”

A. He never mentions anything about securing Atlas’ borders and in fact wants to OPEN them.

B. He’s never talked about making Atlas great or appealing to any sort of false patriotism.

C. He opposes the military whereas Trump supports them.

D. He has no slogans for his campaign, especially none like Trump’s/

E. He isn’t colluding with foreign powers aside from a generic bad guy orgnazation with no connections to the countries Trump is accused of.

F. Jacques being a slimy business man was made before Trump came into the presidency.

And G. Robyn Hill only connections to Hilarily Clinton is a gender and half a name (a name that is actually rather common in real life). In fact, considering her position is all about distrust in the government and appealing to the common man- She’s a closer stand in for TRUMP than Hilarlily. 

Again, argument’s been made a thousand times, beaten it a thousand times. 

His overall point is that Jacques is said to be a terrible parent but not shown, using the line from “This Life is Mine” ( Amazing how you conquered me, Chained me in servility) before going on to say that he ‘let her go to a different school’ (he was forced to), ‘Do whatever she wants so long as it doesn’t affect his business and reputation’ (contradicted by cutting her off, trying to limit her actions because of her ignoring his calls even though that does not affect his business or reputation), ‘spending his money at Beacon until she ignores his calls’ (finical abuse 101) and ‘she embarrassed him at a party by assaulting one of the guests.’

... The woman was outright mocking the people she knew, the ‘assault’ was an accidental summon, Jacques was trying to prevent her from just getting away from him, Jacques pressured her into singing for him despite her discomfort and never once tries to talk to his daughter like a person or calm her down, instead trying to silence her. All of THIS without getting his physical intimidation of grabbing her and slapping her, which is what Kamen strawmans the response being. Also ignoring what he did AFTER the slap, effectively trapping her in her room and spreading the idea she was unstable to save his image.

No amount of money matters here, ignoring once again that he tried withholding it once she acted outside what he wanted. That is the ‘chains of servility’ and I know you wouldn’t argue this outside RWBY. You’d be calling this ignorant beyond acception, Kamen.

“The worst examples of Jacques’ abuse happen outside the-”

Jacques’ worst abuse was being trapped in her own room for calling out the callousness of people smack talking a tragedy she went through. This is effectively mocking a war in front of a veteran then locking them in the basement while telling everyone they’re coocoo. That is in the show, stop trying to blame other materials THAT DO NOT EXIST just to appeal to a common compliant (about supplemental materials in RWBY).

“Well Winter abuses Weiss!”

So let me get this straight. A small smack on the back of the head before asking about her personal life to show she cares about Weiss (another example of cutting context) is at all comparable to abuse of parental power, controlling Weiss like a puppet and locking her up? What was your definition of contrivance and consistency again?

“Can I go off on a tangent?”

No. You have not earned that right. You have far exceeded any patience I should have given you. The fact I am STILL HERE is too much and I should just throw the rest of the video in that garbage dumb your delusion of the writing is. But I will STILL give you chance.

P.S. You use HBomberguy as an example? Even though one of the videos you chewed out in your Persona video (’Steven Universe is Garbage and Here’s Why’) is BASED OFF his work? So what? His hours long shit talking is okay? And no, this is not

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His next segment is titled ... “Okay What Is This Shit I’m Actually Cratching My Head I’m So Dumbfounded And Confused AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH”

... You misspelled “Scratching”.

He says the Grimm Attack after Robyn’s failed election was handled off screen. That never existed and the Grimm attacked THREE EPISODE LATER and is handled on screen.

He says that Jacques being arrested makes no sense because Watts can control technology and should have used it disable the security cameras in the Schnee Manor. As he outright says, Willow hid those cameras and Watts HACKS technology and cannot hack what he DOES NOT KNOW EXISTS. It’s outright said BY THE SHOW and SHOWN that he cannot just magically control technology.

He also questions how Willow got those cameras in there, ignoring that Jacques DOES NOT HAVE OMNISCENCE.  Why she did when she SAID it was to make sure he didn’t abuse her kids. When doesn’t fucking matter. It’s all pendantic bullcrap. You can apply this to any situation in media and I know Kamen would bitch about the show’s pacing if they did this because it would be boring as fuck.

He says that there was no foreshadowing that Willow set these cameras up which I would like to give...if not for the rest of his video which illustrates to me he would have made this point with or without foreshadowing.

“How come Robyn isn’t being arrested because she stole supplies?!”

A. Because you keep inferring she stole supplies BEFORE the election, I’ll have to assume it’s the same here and say SHE DIDN’T.

B. If you aren’t and have changed to saying AFTER the election: The show SHOWS YOU that they’ve been trying to arrest her. She’s been EVADING them.

C. If it’s at Jacques’ house: Remember what you said about image? Wanna guess how damaged Ol Jimmy’s image will be if he arrests his biggest critic while under suspicion of rigging the election against her AND being questioned for supposed abuse of power?

D. Gee, not like the heating system in an artic climate shut down, Jacques just got exposed for helping a KNOWN CRIMINAL TOO, The Grimm actually invade, they have to save all the people, things collapse between RWBY and Ironwood and a fuckton of other things of higher priority than one woman stealing supplies to fix something IRONWOOD HIMSELF SHOULD BE FIXING.

“Hur dur, Salem generic’

Says the Jojo and Yugioh fan. Say, how did your precious VRAINS turn out again hm?

“HEY, WHY NO RUBY TELL IRONWOOD AND TAKE RESPONBILITY?!”

Maybe because there’s a bunch of soulless abominations currently running amok in a city full of innocents so she should take responsibility as an official Huntress and do her damn job while the comparatively combat inept Oscar handle the non combat situation. Or did you want contrivance to work in your favor even though you’ve been proven to be a biased liar who will betray everything he stands in order to make a shit point about a flawed show he couldn’t criticize with a fucking guide on it?

“Why not have Ruby stand behind and say ‘I’ll catch up with you later’?-”

Because you’ll cut context and make her look irresponsible. Your suggestions mean NOTHING when you have proven that you have no honesty on the subject and will flip flop to suit yourself.

Also I love how you mock Mediaocrity4 for ‘treating his opposition as idiots’ as your fucking video STARTED and is littered with you doing JUST THAT. Fuck, I bet you’ll do JUST THAT with this post. 

“Oh look at this character who has been shown as overly emotional, rash and prone to not thinking when mad act in line with her character how dumb!”

Gee, like say...., A shut in otaku making constant video game and anime references in, let’s say, a JRPG filled with these references? 

Huh, guess you agree more with Cvit than you say.

“Dur, fistcuffs mean Jojo!”

Oh wait, Fist of the North Star did it first. And it’s a stable in most fighting anime. But hey, who cares in Kamen shanks Jojo in the back if it means lashing out against RWBY amirite?

“It’s like the context of the fights-”

Where the Ace Ops against RWBY are highly emotional, having felt betrayed by people they though as comrades and acting individually instead as duos or even as a team while all being people with shown emotional issues failing to defeat a far calmer and more developed team that have been working with them and are aware of their flaws?

Or that Clover tried to blindly follow Ironwood’s orders just as Qrow did in the past with Ozpin as the two characters heavily mirror each other, Qrow tried to fight Tyrian at first even as Clover attacked him and never actually helped Tyrian (in facting ATTACKING HIM at one point) after Clover tried arresting him in front of Robyn, someone known to do rash things when it comes to Ironwood?

I’m so glad you decided to FOR ONCE IN THIS ENTIRE, NEARLY FOURTY MINUTE VIDEO actually pay attention to the show and not the memes of the people who agree with you.

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“Conclusion”

‘Like I said in the Steven Universe Movie, I don’t let the fanabse dictate my opinion on something-’

Which is why there wasn’t a single original viewpoint, perspective, criticism, wording or even ‘jokes’, all shit ripped straight from the mouths of others. It’s all shit I’ve seen before by other people. If I absorbed even more of this bullshit, I’d probably be able to see exact wordings in here too, I am THAT certain you didn’t think about this for yourself.

If you did, you would have noticed that you were repeating the exact same mistakes you constantly criticize in others. You would have seen that you were making assumptions based on your preconceived notion of ‘RWBY bad’ and not what the show itself was doing. You would have seen the vidnictive smugness you decried MatPat over. You would have seen the immense hypocrisy you called out before. You would have stuck to what you called your principles.

You have the failures of your biggest targets in this very video. The bias and brain rot of Quinton Reviews, the hack job of MatPat, the manipulativeness of Verlsify, the sheer level of bullshit of Cvit. You burned every single standard you set for others here, you did every wrong thing you screamed about, you failed in the same ways as those you profited from criticizing. Again, because I said all this THE LAST TIME and yet you got WORSE. 

You mock and belittle the creators even as you give them every reason to treat you like shit because even the worst they’ve done looks justified compared to what you pulled. ‘Oh they said that people being mean is so bad!’ says the man preying on his weakness. ‘Oh he’s shit talking his critics!’ says the open liar. ‘Oh the writing was done by platypuses!’ says the man who wants to be taken seriously. ‘Oh it’s just a joke!’ Says the man who bitched out MatPat over jokes. 

And I guarantee you’ll cry foul at me if you ever find this, decrying me as just a salty RWBY fanboy. And this time, I’m not accepting any excuses. You HAD your chances. 

4chan trolls are more respectable than you. They have principles and stick to them. Fanboys are more respectable than you. They don’t claim to be anything else. And yes, your targets are more respectable than you. Their channels aren’t based on hypocrisy THIS deeply rooted.

I regret ever watching you because you were clearly speaking out of your ass.

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Post-Edit:

So i edited a couple of my less explained points to get my issue across. Just saying this here so that no one accuses me of editing the source for malicious purposes.

As for why I didn’t rewrite the last two sections to remove my anger: that stays to prove a point. I had tried to stay neutral or at least calm throughout the video. But my frustrations just kept on building as you became increasingly smug and condescending, even though you called out such shit against others. I can’t even respect your arguments as arguments because considering the erratic nature of this video as well as how out of place some of them are (”Orange Man Bad”): it sounds like you just took every single compliant ever said about Volume 7 and threw it in. 

You end all your videos saying ‘Examine Your Fandom’. Did you ever do that yourself?

[lovechrisevansimagine]

The Fairytales Trip

Pairing: Chris Evans x Female!Reader

Warnings:  fluff, slight cursing

Part: 1/??

Description: Your annual trip to Disney with your family changes drastically when you meet Chris and his family at your hotel, your families get along so well that they decided to join until the rest of the trip. A whole week with your favorite actor in the most magical place on earth… where will this end?

Author’s Note: I really hope you enjoy it. Please give your feedback, constructive criticism is always welcomed. :)

Word Count: 2,615

You almost scream when someone touches your shoulder hard and screams in your ear, but you drop some of your drink because of the fright. You look with wide eyes to see who the hell freaked you out like that and the fear you felt before was nothing compared to seeing one of the leading dancers of the show you were watching at the hotel with your parents right in front of you. He has his right hand almost in your face as a sign for you to join him and go to the stage.

Oh dear, God. No. Please, no. Why me?

You look back to your parents in panic and the only thing your mother does is laugh at you and your dad encourages you to go forward. You took a deep breath trying to control yourself and looked back at the dancer.

“C’mon, don’t be shy. I promise I don’t bite.” He said and everybody in the room laughed.

You smirked at him and said “Yeah? But I do.”

He raised his hands exaggeratedly and laughed, you could feel all eyes on you, so he said again "What do you have to lose?" It took you a few seconds to take some courage and follow him.

He’s right.

You're in Florida, in a totally different state, it's your vacation and you do not know any of these people, so whatever. When you took his hand, you heard the applause of the crowd and only when you stood up, you look around the room and noticed the amount of people watching. That's when you get nervous.

“So tonight” He said scaring you. Again. Ok, this guy is starting to really pisses you off. “We are going to have a dance battle here in stage. Are you ready for that?” He smiles at you and you give him a fake one. “All right, let’s tap dance.”

Wait, what?

You didn’t even got a chance to say something because the lights went out and then a single strong light was on both of you. He made a few moves and looked at you to do the same, you copy what he does and he made a few more than the last one and you follow him. After this little imitate thing he started to tap dance like a pro with the song on the background and when he finished, he look at you waiting you to do the same. You pointed at his shoes and he just shrugged, you tossed your hair exaggeratedly over each shoulder, teasing laughter from the audience. You started hitting the floor repeatedly as clumsily as possible, making the audience really laugh this time. After you finished, you put your hand on your waist looking at him like ‘take that, bitch’. The audience stood up as they clapped their hands and you send them a kiss.

The dancer claps too and gives you a kiss on the cheek. He asked your name and then said “Y/n everybody.”

You step off the stage and when you were returning to your parents with a smile on your face, you saw your mother talking excitedly with another woman at the next table, you looked a second at the table and saw an entire family there. You smile a little, then you stop in shock. The man next to the woman who was talking to your mother looks at you. The moment his blue eyes found yours made you stop at your feet, you feel a goosebumps from head to toe just for being the sight of the most beautiful blue eyes you’ve ever seen, made you breathless. It’s Chris Evans. You continue to look at him intensely feeling your heart burn in your chest, the way your body reacted to his gaze was making your legs shake. Your mouth was dry and you could swear he was looking at you as intensely as you were looking at him. You were completely out of breath. Holy shit. His eyes looked glazed on yours, you truly forgot where you were and how long you were standing in the middle of the room.

“Oh, y/n!” Your mother called you breaking the connection with him. You look at her and remember that you need to walk to the table and sit in chair. “You were great! Seriously, I just met Lisa.” You looked at the woman your mom was talking about and you smiled at her and she does the same. All the time you could feel his eyes on you. “But you know what’s the best?” You shook your head. “She knows how to tap dance, like professionally.”

“Really?” She shakes her head. “This is so cool! Now I really wish you’d gone in my place because the dancer was kind of cocky.” She laughs at you and you smile at her.

You can still feel his eyes on you, so you looked at him with a smile on your face, and he opens a smile to you that made you blush. You see satisfaction in his eyes for a moment, but must be your mind playing games with you.

“I could feel that, actually. Even the way he approached you…” Lisa said to you.

“I know, right? I literally almost had a heart attack.” You heard not only Lisa laugh but the whole table, including Chris.

“I’m so sad that I missed it because I was on my back.” Chris said to you with a smile on his face and you lifted an eyebrow to him.

“You’re sad because you didn’t see me almost faint?” You said it dramatically and he laughs harder than before, putting his hand on his chest. Wow, what a view to see. You always saw interviews that he did this, but see it live was amazing.

“Oh, y/n always so dramatic.” Your mother said with a sarcastic smile.

“I think drama can be fun.” Chris said with a smile, looking at you and you smiled to him.

“Oh, well. Those are the words of an actor.” You said playfully.

“What can you say?” He said smiling at you while crossing his big muscular strong arms, you could not notice how his shirt was tight. Your mouth dry because of the sight and you look back at his eyes, that’s when you realize he knows you were checking him out. “It’s in my blood.”

“If you don’t like drama then you are talking to the wrong people, mom.” You said.

“If I did not like drama, I wouldn’t be married to your father.” She said smiling and then kissing your father’s cheek.

“And now you're defaming me.” Your dad said, making drama, and your mother gave the Evans family a look like ‘see?’ and they smiled.

“Don’t worry about it…” A man in front of Chris said for the first time and waited for your father said his name. “y/d/n, we are the last people in the planet that can judge drama.”

“Oh, I feel so welcomed.” You said smiling and they laughed.

After a while talking with the Evans family, we realized that we didn’t even introduce ourselves and vice versa. So you met the whole the family, Chris, Scott, Lisa, Carly and Shanna. You found out they were with kids too, but they were already sleeping in the room. You found out that they always came to Orlando at this time of the year and spend this family time together, they really liked to know your family does the same.

In the conversation, you notice Chris’s eyes on you almost all the time. Why the hell he was looking at you so much? From the moment you spoke for the first time, his eyes seemed to be stuck in your face.

Surprisingly, your families did get along very well. Your mother and father were talking to Lisa as if she were a family friend, not even in your wildest dreams you thought this could happen to you. I mean… your major crush of all time, one of your favorite actors is talking and laughing with your parents and you. Like wtf. When Lisa and your mom started to talk about something you were not included, you feel a warm breath against your ear, giving goosebumps all over your body.

“So… I have to say I’m curious” You look at him and you froze at the realization of how dangerously close he was. His eyes were even bluer this close.

“Curious about what?” You speak, not being able to look anywhere but his eyes. He smirk.

“About you.” And just like that, you were nervous again.

“Me?” Your voice fails and you could swear a little smile on his lips for that, but you don’t think about it too much.

“Yes, you.”

“What are you curious about?” He smiles.

“Everything.” He grabs his beer and takes a sip while looking at you. “Where are you from?”

You smile at him. “I’m from New York, actually. I read online that you are from Boston, right?” He nodded and encouraged you to keep talking. “Hm, I am an editorial producer of allure right now.” You look at him, really wishing to know what he’s thinking. He comes closer to you again and looks at you with an intense look. Your smile goes away and you were stuck in his gaze, there was a different shine in them, but you couldn’t figure it out what that was.

“And you… have a special person waiting for you at home right now?” You froze. What?! WHAT?! Your lips curl into a small smile and you look straight at him, your hopes raising up of once.

“No.” You could see a sparkle in his eyes and hear him whisper to himself, “Good.” You try to tell yourself that you were hallucinating and that he was just asking out of curiosity, like he said before. There is no way this man could be interested in you. Not at all.

“And you?”

“No.” You smile.

“Good.”

He opens a smile and get away from you again. You look across the table and see Scott looking at you with a malicious smile, but you just look away feeling your cheek burn.

“So where are you guys going tomorrow?” Chris asks you.

“Am, we have this tradition, every time we came, we go to Magic Kingdom first and see the opening show.” He opens a smile. “And where you guys are going to be tomorrow?”

“Universal, actually.” You nodded and drank the rest of your beverage. “Thanks to Scott.” He looked at his brother with an annoying look and Scott raised both hands.

“What?! Who doesn’t love universal?!” He spoke. “I mean, it’s the best.”

“It’s really good, for sure, but nothing beats Magic Kingdom,” you said.

“Thank you!” Chris said almost screaming and you laughed.

“You’re  kidding, right? Universal is wonderful! It has all of the stuff from harry potter and the Jurassic Park which is amazing… meanwhile Magic Kingdom is just meh.” The mouth of you and Chris just fall down.

“Scott… what the fuck?” Chris was speechless.

“Oh my God, meh? The Magic Kingdom is meh? Tomorrowland is meh?! You are the tasteless.” You said with disappointment.

“Just what I was thinking, really.” Chris said.

“Don’t tell me is your favorite part too?” Scott said rolling his eyes.

“Duh. I really like adventure land but doesn't have space mountain which is obviously the best ride ever!” You said.

Chris looked at you with a big smile on his face and all you are able to do is smile back at him. His eyes were shining even more to you and you liked it more than you should in being the reason for that smile.

“Oh God. I can't believe I'm meeting the female version of Chris.” You laughed.

“Well, is good to know that this world has people with good taste.” He said, pressing a kiss in your cheek.

Your laughter dies as you feel his lips on your cheek, you feel goosebumps all over your body and you blush again. Jesus, you were angry with yourself.

Stop blushing, y/n.

You look at him with a shy smile and his smile just grew even more.

The show ended and everyone started to walk out slowly and go to their rooms, you feel sad suddenly because you knew your time with him was over. It was a real lucky to meet him here tonight and you knew that is was not going to happen again. You look at your parents and they were getting up from the table and you knew it was your turn. You got up and instantly, Chris does the same.

Your mother and father began to walk with Shana, Carly, Scott and Lisa until leaving the room and go to the reception of the hotel. You and Chris follow them and they start to saying goodbye to each other.

“It was so great to meet you, Lisa. I really hope we see each other again.” Your mother said, but you were looking into his eyes, and his in yours. You really wish you could see him again… “Now we are going, we have a full day tomorrow and I know you do too so goodnight.” Your mother hugged her and the rest of the family. You do the same, thanking them for being with your family. Lisa smiled and said it was wonderful, but something in her smile say something else, but you couldn’t figure out what it meant. The time you went to say goodnight to Chris, you took a good look at him. He was looking like he wanted to spend more time with you too, but you know it was your mind playing games with you.

“So… I loved meeting you. Goodnight, Chris.” You said and gave him a hug. His arms were strong around her, but sweet and warm at the same time. You felt your heart beating fast in your chest, and it seemed that your body was made for him. You could stay like this forever and you didn’t want to let go… God, it felt so right to be in his arms. But you have to. So when you let go, you gave him one last look and go to your room.

   You entered the line for splash mountain when you heard your mother “Y/N, do you think you’ll see Chris again?” You frowned your eyebrows.

“I don’t think so… why do you ask?”

“because he seemed to really like you last night… he didn’t stop looking at you, so I thought he gave his number or something.” Your heart races… even your mother noticed he was staring at you.

“No, he didn’t gave me his number… and maybe that’s he’s way. He didn’t mean it, I think.” You said looking the giant line in front of you.

“I don’t believe it’s his way, honey. I think there was something else behind those blue eyes…”

“Then why he didn't give me his number?” You asked with your hand on your waist.

Your mother didn’t have an answer, so you just change the subject. After a while, you hear a loud voice in your ear, making you jumped and scream in fear. When you look, your legs almost fail to see the Evans family and a hysterical Chris in front of you.

“Chris?!” You said trying to calm yourself. “How-why-I mean- shouldn't you be in the universal right now?”

“Change of plans.” Chris said when he calm himself. “We decided to spend the day here and my mom had the idea of all of us spending the day together.”

[dancingsparks]

The Harry Bloody Potter Jar

Inspired by the Drarry Discord

A huge thanks to my wnoderful beta @april-thelightfury115

Also on A03

“Merlin Pansy you won’t believe who they decided on as guardian for my parole.” Pansy doesn’t look up from where she’s painting her nails. That’s fair enough - nail painting is a delicate art and she would only raise an eyebrow at him anyway. Still, Draco pouts. One would think Pansy could at least pretend to care about the future of her best friend. Even if said future doesn’t look quite as grim anymore as it did a week ago.

Thanks to Potter’s outraged speech in front of the Wizengamot, Draco wasn’t faced with a lifetime in Azkaban anymore, but a mere five years under strict parole guidelines; he was to return to Hogwarts, find a way to become a vital part of society, and perform reparations for his families war crimes, all under the constant supervision of a trustworthy guardian, responsible for his every action. Draco had expected they’d assign him to some old fool, him being not important enough to bother someone competent with; a means to give people they can’t insult something to do, maybe one of those people they gave medals to after the war even though they hardly did any of the fighting - someone like Slughorn maybe. Draco was wrong.

“Potter, they named Harry bloody Potter my legal guardian!” He pauses for effect, to let his words sink in and the horror take hold - but Pansy just paints a new shiny layer of black on her thumb. Draco stares her, incredulous and hurt. Dos she not grasp the tragedy of this development? Before he can question her on her silence, Pansy idly points at somewhere behind him, says jar, and gives her nails a critical look.

Draco groans, but he turns around anyway, searches his pocket for some coins and dumps them in the jar labelled Harry bloody Potter. He remembers how proudly Pansy had presented it, saying if she was forced to listen to his whinging she might as well get something out of it. At first Draco laughed it off… Until he woke up with blue hair. Pansy was utterly unsympathetic, refused to lift the charm and amusedly watched him pour over books to find something to counter it. He hadn’t. So, when Pansy graciously offered to take the charm off, if he accepted and honoured the jar, Draco had no choice but to agree. He hadn’t dared ignoring it since.

“This is terrible Pans, he can tell me to do whatever he wants! He could humiliate me or force me to do all his assignments - he has complete control over me now! And you know Potter, he was never the best at keeping his temper in check, what’s to say he won’t take it out on poor helpless me? It’s not like we ever got along, they should just have sent me to Azkaban.” At that Pansy finally looks up, nails forgotten, all her attention on him.

“Don’t say that, don’t you ever dare say that!” There is a sharp edge in her tone, a fierce glint in her eyes. Draco lifts his chin defiantly, ignoring the urge to back down and do whatever it takes to appease her. “Azkaban is a terrible place and it would break you, you wouldn’t last a month. Is that what you want? Because I am sure they have a cell free if you ask nicely. Or they could just throw you in with your father, would you like that?”

It makes Draco flinch, violently and with his entire body. No, he would not like that. Having his father locked up is the only good thing about all this, and even that isn’t as clearly positive as Draco would like it to be. Lucius might be cruel and selfish and always vocal in his disappointment in Draco, but he’s still his father, and Draco rather suspects if it was possible, he would free him.

Pansy seems to realise that she went too far with that, because she visibly softens. “This is a good thing Draco, and you know that it is. Yes, Potter is a git and with the power he holds he could make your life a living hell – you’ve given him enough reason to do so. But Potter is also The Saviour, The Golden Boy; do you honestly think he would abuse that power instead of rubbing how good he is in everyone’s face?”

She pauses, gives him time to think it over. When Draco still sullenly refuses to answer, she adds, “And he spoke at your trial.”

She presents it as if it’s the ultimate proof, as if that changes everything. To be honest, it does.

Pansy makes a good case, Potter is far too good to take advantage of his position. He would probably even insist that he doesn’t want this, that he would have preferred anyone else to be given the task. Potter wouldn’t be too bad, keep a close eye and tell him to behave most likely. And Draco can’t deny that he always liked having Potter’s undivided attention.

***

This is unacceptable! It’s offensive and rude and belittling! Draco stares up at the wall, fuming and yet unable to do anything about it. The stupid wall won’t let him pass through to the platform, he’ll miss the train, break his parole and be sent to Azkaban after all. Fantastic. Pansy might come back to look for him if he doesn’t follow her in ten minutes, but in the end, there’s nothing she’ll be able to do either.

The Muggles are still staring at him, laying on the ground amongst his schoolbooks and robes. It’s an undignified position to be in, even more so that it is witnessed by Muggles, but Draco lost his ability to care about that somewhere in the war. He also lost his blind hostility against Muggles, but their utter disregard of his obviously hurtful fall makes the urge to hex every single one of them surge up in him. Nothing malicious, only delay them, just enough so that they miss their train.

Still glaring, Draco starts to get up; he rolls on his side to press himself up on his arms as a searing pain shoots through his arm. Gasping in pain, he collapses again, right back down onto the hard floor. Draco didn’t expect this. He thought he might have hurt his head, that his balance might be affected, but not that he’d brake his arm. Still, a broken arm is nothing to cry over, especially if there’s no one around to see and pamper him. He’d experienced worse, things Draco tries not to dwell upon, so this shouldn’t be a problem. He’s about to try again, grit his teeth this time and get through it, when there is suddenly a hand in his face.

“Here let me help you.” The woman smiles down at him, warm and not overly pitying, and Draco takes her hand. Maybe he wouldn’t hex all of them. She pulls him up and Draco clutches her due to a sudden spell of vertigo.

“Are you alright?” She sounds honestly concerned, steadying and holding him. “Should I call a doctor?”

Draco has no idea what a doctor is, but he doesn’t need one. What he needs is to get through that stubborn wall. “Thank you, no, I am fine.”

She frowns at him but doesn’t insist, for which Draco is grateful. He smiles at her in reassurance before carefully crouching down to pick up his things. Unexpectedly, the woman sits down next to him, picking up books. She raises her eyebrow at the titles but doesn’t comment. Between the two of them, they gather his things quickly. Draco thanks her again and with a smile she’s gone, leaving back where he was, standing lost in front of the wall.

Maybe he could send an owl to Hogwarts, tell them that it wasn’t his fault; he tried to be there and would appreciate another way to come to school. Yes, that’s a reasonable, mature response to this ridiculous situation.

“Something the matter, Malfoy?” Draco freezes at the voice. Potter. Just what he needs right now. But then, if Potter is to be responsible for him, he might as well fix this thing.

“Yes, Potter, this stupid wall is broken and won’t let me pass. And it broke my arm.” Potter has the gall to look sheepish, then he snorts. Draco glares at him.

“Your arm isn’t broken, you are just being dramatic. Give me that.” Ignoring Draco’s protest, he roughly pulls his arm from where he cradled it against his chest. It hurts, and Draco says so, but Potter mumbles an apology and doesn’t look up from his examination. Draco keeps up his complaints; he wouldn’t want Potter to think he approves of the treatment.

Potter draws his wand, still holding Draco’s arm in a tight grip, a concentrated frown on his face. Draco must have made some sort of noise, because Potter looks up at him and raises an eyebrow. It’s clearly a question, but it’s also a challenge. Draco could never resist a challenge from Potter. He nods and Potter looks back down. He doesn’t say a word, doesn’t even move his lips, but Draco can feel the magic. It washes over him in a warm haze, calming the pain and leaving a pleasant numbness.

Carefully Draco moves his arm. It doesn’t hurt, not even slightly. Who ever thought Potter could heal? Potter smiles at him. He has a nice smile, small but sincere and full of possibilities. Draco smiles back, can’t stop himself.

Until he realises who exactly he is smiling at. “That still doesn't explain the wall.”

“Ah yes, that. I knew you wouldn’t like it. I told Kingsley it’s stupid, that you could go on the train on your own, but he insisted. I have to go before you, to authorise you or something. Kingsley explained it but I wasn’t - anyway. I have to go first and you can follow me.” There are several things that grate on Draco in that sentence. First the nonchalant way in which Potter speaks, as if he isn’t the cause for this mess. Second, the implication that Draco could not be trusted to enter a public Wizarding space without supervision. Third, Potter didn’t - what? Pay attention? Care? Is Draco’s fate not entertaining enough to hold his attention for the minute it would have taken to explain the process?

“Terribly sorry to inconvenience you like this but would you be so kind to move through the wall now, so I finally can too?” Potter glares at him, as if Draco is the one being a prat, when all he wants is to be done with this. Draco glares back and makes an impatient noise for good measure.

Potter mumbles about unchanged gits and Draco has a feeling he means him, but before he can be properly offended, Potter passes through the wall. Draco takes a moment to be bitter about how easy everything always is for Potter, neatly using the wall as a metaphor, before he makes sure his clothes sit right, his hair is smooth, and striding through the wall after Potter.

It goes seamlessly, as it should, and Draco spares no glance for the happy reunion between Potter and his friends that he almost walks into. It’s only then that he realises Potter had been alone when he arrived, and how unusual that is. But he doesn’t linger, doesn’t spare them a glance as he makes his way to find Pansy.

He tries to ignore the suspicious looks, the vicious words thrown at him, how parents shield their children as if they need to protect them from him. Draco holds his head high and pretends it doesn’t hurt.

Still, he sighs in relief when finds Pansy in an empty compartment. After levitating his luggage he slumps down into a seat next to her. “Apparently Potter has to move every door for me now.”

He expects her to be interested, to ask maybe, but she only looks at him and pulls the jar out of her pocket.

***

Draco stares at the list. This isn’t surprising, he expected this, and yet here he stands, thinking this must be some kind of sick joke. “Pansy, would you be so kind to tell me who I’m roomed with?”

“No, I have my own problems here Draco, get over it.”

“Potter, why can’t they ever give me some space? Why force me in tiny living quarters with the git?” Draco gasps as the elbow of someone shoves into his side violently. Sure, there’s not much space and people are uncivilised so there is a lot of pushing involved in this horde, but Draco is convinced this was no accident. Looking around doesn’t help much - too many people glaring at him for daring to insult their Saviour. Draco glares back and turns around again, intending to check the list again. He finds that darned jar under his nose again. Where does she even store it?

He must have taken too long, because she gives the jar an impatient shake and him an ominous stare. Draco pays her.

“I don’t like it either Malfoy, but apparently you are a dangerous criminal and need supervision every hour of the day and night. Now move, there are other people who want to see the list and you’re blocking the view.” Potter doesn’t wait for Draco to move, but instead takes him by the shoulders and firmly moves him away. His hands feel nice on Draco’s shoulders, easily manoeuvring him around. Draco scowls at him, pushes his hands way and rights his clothes again. Potter watches him with an unreadable expression.

“I don’t sleep much, and when I do, I sleep badly. Just a fair warning. Don’t worry though, I’m proficient with my Silencing charms and won’t disturb you, your beauty sleep is safe.” Before Draco can protest, he’s gone, following Weasley up the stairs in their new 8th year common room. This whole thing is ridiculous; they should just have stayed in their own houses where people don’t run the danger of being choked to death with their own pillow in their sleep.

But McGonagall, now headmistress, had presented the idea as if it were the cure to all evils and there’s no arguing with her; especially given she’s a scary old hag. Draco just tries to be mostly unnoticed by her. In fact, he wouldn’t be back at Hogwarts at all if it wasn’t part of his parole. He would have learnt the curriculum on his own and only come back to take the final exams here. Not that anyone would hire him anyway, not with how his reputation was dragged through the dirt by his father.

“Are you alright Draco? You are staring.” Pansy’s standing in front of him, actually looking worried. She does that far too often, Draco is fine, there is absolutely no need to be concerned.

“Yes Pansy, I am fine, quit fretting. Who did you say you’re rooming with?” She gives him a suspicious look, as if he might change his mind a fall apart right in front of her before ranting about being put in a room with one of the Patil’s. Draco let’s her talk, hums at the appropriate places, but his thoughts are on Potter. Draco had problems sleeping immediately after the war himself, still does on bad nights. What demons are keeping Potter awake?

***

Potter hadn’t been lying about sleeping badly, but his Silencing charms leave much to be desired. He’s been tossing and turning for an hour now, rudely waking Draco from a blissful slumber with his choked whimpers and muffled screams. It’s utterly heart-wrenching to listen too, but Draco can’t bring himself to ignore him either. It is stupid, but through listening to him, he feels like he acknowledges Potter’s pain, like he isn’t suffering alone.

Draco had endured his own share of nightmares directly after the war, facing cold landscapes of blood and screams alone, with nothing to defend or warm himself. He’d woken up screaming and in panic, tried to fend off sleep as long as possible to avoid the darkness. As much as Draco still doesn’t like the git, he knows what Potter’s experiencing well enough to know he deserves better.

Suffering from sleep deprivation and unwilling to go on like this, Draco finally took to drinking Dreamless Sleep, well aware but uncaring of its addictive quality. He could deal with that if it ever got bad enough to actual warrant the worry. Maybe he should advise Potter to do the same. It’s not as if Pomfrey could deny him, being their Saviour he can do whatever he wants.

Draco lays awake the entire night, trying not to imagine what has Potter crying and yelling while simultaneously wondering what Potter saw, what he had to live through that still haunts him now.

***

“You look terrible. Didn’t I tell you to put your books away and actually sleep at night?” Pansy sips her coffee, looking at him over the rim of her cup. Draco feels dead. He didn’t get a second of sleep after Potter woke him, and now he can hardly keep his eyes open. Pansy, Merlin bless her, judges him pathetic enough and refills his own cup with tea. He immediately swallows half it, scorching his tongue but downing more anyway. He’ll need it, if he doesn’t want to fall asleep in his classes.

The only thing even remotely positive about this morning is Potter, slumped over his own cup, deaf to Weasley’s attempts to grab his attention. On second thought, Draco preferred him fully awake. Seeing Potter like this, unmoving and exuding a silent misery, is in many ways worse than witnessing his nightmares.

“This is not my fault, it’s Potter’s.” His sleep deprived mind takes longer than usual to understand what she wants when she holds the jar in his face. When it finally clicks he glares at her.

“That’s not fair, you asked! I just answered your question and as it so happens, Potter is the key to your answer.” Next she would deliberately goad him into mentioning Potter, slowly chisel his entire fortune out of him. If she were to prey on anyone else, Draco would appreciate the scheme. This way he’s more annoyed than impressed with her slyness.

“I think I’ll colour them pink this time. Or red for your favourite Gryffindor?” Pansy is cackling, thinking herself oh so funny. Draco just surrenders a few coins, taking her threat seriously and turning his thoughts back to Potter. He doesn’t like seeing him like this at all, it doesn’t feel right. Potter should be full of energy, talking obnoxiously loudly with his friends and laughing at their dumb jokes. Draco won’t accept this lifeless shell.

***

“Draco, come on. It’s a nice day, sunny for once, even. Why can’t we do this outside? You can still brood over your books there and I can enjoy the sun.” Pansy has been whinging the entire time she’s followed him through the library and Draco’s had enough, he needs to concentrate here.

“I already told you to leave if that is what you want. Hold these though if you stay, would you.” Pansy grunts as he shoves the books at her. Totally exaggerated of course they aren’t that heavy and there’s only three. Maybe giving them to her was a bad idea, because she starts snooping almost immediately. But Draco needs his arms to search for more, and she wouldn’t shut up anyway, might as well talk about something interesting.

“Muggle fairy tales? I even didn’t know they have Muggle books here, let alone fairy tales. Why in Salazar’s name would you read them?” Draco scoffs at the question, though it’s not long ago that he would have asked it himself.

“Because, my dear Pansy, I’m letting go of my prejudices and try to be a better person.” That was half true. He really is trying to be better, to not judge and treat people the way he was taught, but that is not why he is looking at fairy tales. No, the reason is more simple than that, and more embarrassing. He wants to start reading them to Potter. He figured out quickly that Potter calmed down when talked to, so he started telling him stories his mother used to tell him when he was little and didn’t want to go to sleep, which was all the time. She would smile at him and ask him what he wanted to hear and Draco would choose something. The fact that he often wanted to be told of Harry Potter is besides the point.

It worked well enough, kept Potter calm and content, but Draco ran out of stories to tell. He thought it would be fine, that Potter settled down enough to sleep without Draco’s stories. He paid for that naivety dearly – laying awake at night, once again helplessly listening to Potter’s suffering.  

“I don’t think so, why are you really looking at dusty books?” Damn Pansy and her ability to detect even small lies. His life would be so much easier if she wasn’t such a nosey cow or at least only half as smart.

“Fine, I read them to Potter, he sleeps better that way. Put that in your jar and leave already.” He shouldn’t have admitted to reading to Potter, she wouldn’t stop asking now until she knows everything. As expected, she doesn’t leave but smirks at him, looking like the kneazle that got the cream.

“And since when do you care about if Potter gets enough sleep? Though I have to say, it is really sweet of you.” That’s it - Draco won’t tell her a thing.

“I don’t care, but his constant tossing and turning keeps me awake. It is very rude, but I have the feeling that confronting him about it wouldn’t end well for me.” He also doesn’t need Dreamless Sleep after telling a story and watching over Potter, but Pansy would only worry if he mentioned needing it before. Moreover, he likes being the one to calm Potter, likes being directly responsible for Potter being more alive, even if no one knows. Strangely, and against everything he was told to strive for, it didn’t bother him that he doesn’t receive credit and praise for it. He is content seeing Potter smile and know that he slept six nightmare free hours that night, is content with calming his quiet whimpers by nothing more than talking to him. This side of Potter is all Draco’s, and he won’t let anyone take it from him.

Pansy doesn’t believe him, still smirking and raising an eyebrow at him. He thought he gave her just enough of the truth, the bare and most selfish bones of it, to satisfy her. “Don’t tell me then, but take those books back. I know how to enjoy myself, so I will be leaving. Come find me when your books bore you.”

***

“They shouldn’t have let you back, my mother said. You belong in Azkaban with all the other pure-blood scum, rotting there, not terrorising good honest people again.”

“Harry’s heart is too soft to do what is necessary, he sees good in everybody, even dirty Death-Eaters like you. But you can’t fool us.”

Draco tightens the grip on his quill and clenches his jaw, keeping his head down and eyes focused on his essay giving no indication that he even hears them. They’ve been here for a few minutes now, hurling insults at his head and feeling tough. Draco would stand up to them, would tell them to back off and not talk about things they don’t understand – but instead he sits frozen in his chair.

The problem is that they are right. Draco was stupid; he made some horrible choices out of ignorance and fear without comprehending the consequences. He made those choices, no matter the circumstances, and people died. They were tortured, beaten bloody, and murdered. Their families were hunted down and murdered. And Draco stood by, doing what little he could for the prisoners, otherwise silently watching, condoning, or being forced - under threat of pain to his family - to participate.

When they call him a Death-Eater – they’re right. The word makes Draco nauseous, ashamed, freezing cold and burning hot at once - but they are right. When they say he’s scum – they’re right. Even though, or maybe especially because, Draco was told all his life that he’s something better. When they say he belongs to Azkaban – they’re right. Despite the fact that the thought of that place alone makes Draco sick.

Draco got off lightly; he deserves to be punished.

“Shut up, all of you. I didn’t die for the hate to continue. I didn’t die so little brats like you could go around, hurling insults at whoever you please. I didn’t die so our world could remain split by our beliefs and prejudices and deliberate blindness.” That’s Potter’s voice, lecturing and scolding. Draco looks up, needing to make sure that he isn’t delirious, that he isn’t hallucinating or imagining things. Potter stands in the window like a fallen angel, dark against the light, chewing out people Draco can’t see, can’t focus on. He stares in awe at Potter, defending him.

“You don’t know anything about Malfoy or the things he did or didn’t do - so don’t you dare judge him for them.” Potter sounds like he wants to go on, like he wants to yell at every single person here. Draco can’t allow that - not that he doesn’t enjoy watching Potter outraged, but screaming at harmless brats will even get him in trouble.

“Potter, I appreciate the sentiment, but you need to sit down now.” With that he yanks Potter down into the chair next to him and pushes a book under his nose, gives him something else to focus on. There is a tense silence in which Draco thinks Potter is going to stand up again, utterly ignore him and continue, but then Potter pulls the book closer and everyone standing frozen in his wrath scrambles away as fast as humanly possible. Draco doesn’t even try to hide his smug smile before going back to his essay. They might have been right in what they said, but they were inappropriately rude about it. They got what they deserved. Also, if Potter disagrees with them, maybe Draco should rethink that himself - Potter is seldom wrong on matters of right or wrong.

Draco’s still thinking about what Potter said, why he would defend Draco again, when he realises Potter is very much still sitting next to him, not reading anymore but watching him. Draco doesn’t know what to do with that, Potter only ever glared at him, scowled and frowned and looked with suspicion. But this is something else, more contemplative than damning, not as hostile. Draco feels as if Potter is really looking at him, cutting down to his soul with that discerning gaze. It’s unnerving, he doesn’t like the thought of what Potter might find. “See something you like, Potter?”

The question was meant to be teasing, to make Potter blush and stammer and give Draco something that might not exactly be familiar but still safer, less uncertain unsettling. Instead a slow smirk creeps on Potter’s face, making Draco blush. “Fishing for compliments, Malfoy?”

Draco doesn’t know what to say to that, even if he were capable of speaking at that moment. It doesn’t matter, because Potter becomes serious once more, face changing back into that unreadable mask. “Why did you let them say stuff like that, why didn’t you defend yourself?”

Why couldn’t Potter stick to the unexpected flirting? Why does he have to ask real, substantial questions when he never cared about Draco as person before? He was always fine with assigning him whatever fitted best with his view, why change that now? Draco sighs, reluctant to explain his reasons but more unwilling to ignore Potter’s question. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

“Malfoy, come on. You used to throw fits over things more trivial than this. What changed?” Draco glares at him, suddenly angry at Potter’s condescending words. What changed? What didn’t? Draco realised he was a terrible person, he tortured people and watched them die, he lost a friend and thought Potter was dead for those terrifying moments. And now Potter dares to question why Draco doesn’t say anything about some morons shouting words they don’t understand?

“Don’t pretend you know me Potter. You have no idea what I went through and what I suffered. I suppose it doesn’t matter to you, does it? The Great Saviour, you probably saw them spouting their insults and thought this is a good opportunity to show how much better you are, caring even about the poor Death-Eater. Well let me tell you this, if I so wanted too, I could have scared them off myself. I don’t need your pity.” Draco’s gripping his quill tightly, furiously whispering so as not be thrown out but unable to keep the rage in and his mouth shut either.

“It’s not pity and I know you could have, the question was why you didn’t.” Potter is irritatingly calm, looking at Draco, unimpressed by his outburst. It makes Draco feel self-conscious; foolish. Just like that the rage is gone, as quick as it came, leaving him deflated and with a question he doesn’t want to answer but will anyway.

“Because they were right and I saw no reason to shut them up, is that what you wanted to hear? Will you leave me in peace now?” Potter looks at him, no pity or fury in his eyes, considering Draco and taking him in. Draco has seldom felt as vulnerable as he does in this conversation.

“No, that is not what I wanted to hear at all. I don’t think they were right; I think they got a rush out of picking on someone who won’t fight back and that you were a convenient target. I think you heard so many people tell you that you’re worth nothing and what you did is inexcusable, that you’re irredeemable, that you started to believe it yourself. And I think you deserve better than that.” Potter doesn’t wait for Draco to answer, he just says that, turns Draco’s whole world and understanding on its head, and goes back to his book. Draco sits staring at him for far too long, thinking over what he said and wondering who gave him the right to make him question everything he thought true with nothing more than a few sentences.

He finally catches himself, forcing his eyes back onto his essay and his thoughts back on the effects the moon has on Dragon Blood.

Potter’s still sitting next to him, immersed in a book Draco never thought he would be interested in, too heavy and ancient for that, ignoring the stares and whispers he attracts. Draco can feel himself getting agitated over them, shifting in his chair and throwing glares over the book. He doesn’t know what to do with that. On one hand, the attention might cause Potter to leave, giving Draco the peace and freedom to ignore everything he said, which is harder when the living and breathing proof sits right next to him. But on the other, Draco really doesn’t want Potter to leave. It’s - nice, having him here, sitting in companionable silence, Potter reading and Draco surprisingly actually able to work.

Without thinking much further on it, Draco casts a Silencing charm. It settles over them, shutting out the voices and enveloping them in a peaceful quiet. Draco thinks for a short moment about telling Potter this is how a Silencing charm is supposed to work, but he shoots Draco a grateful smile and he doesn’t want to ruin this moment of understanding. He also doesn’t want to have to explain that yes, I do spend my nights taking care of your nightmares because listening to you physically hurts.

They sit in their little bubble, working quietly next to each other until Potter suddenly curses. Draco looks up, finding Potter already standing to leave. “Sorry Malfoy, this has been - surprisingly pleasant actually - but I’ve got Quidditch and Ron worries too much already, I can’t show up late.”

Draco doesn’t answer, doesn’t think Potter needs him to answer – they’ve just been sitting next to each other, he doesn’t owe Draco an explanation or anything - but Potter stills, looking at him, waiting. “Oh, sure, no problem. Go and relieve the Weasel of his worries.”

Potter smiles crookedly at him and then he’s off, hastening through the library and past tables of staring students. Draco never noticed before, but now he wonders when, if ever, Potter isn’t observed by everyone around him. It doesn’t seem fair, that he gave so much already and they still want more, to intrude on his life, leave him without a single quiet moment. Draco loudly clears his throat, glares at all of them and frightens them into looking back down. Having the reputation of being a murdering Death-Eater does have its perks - even if it’s just scaring people into leaving their hero alone.

Finished with his essay and not wanting to stay there after Potter left, the table now empty and cold, Draco packs his things. Pansy probably won’t make an appearance anymore. She was supposed to be here an hour ago, but something must have kept her. Draco is secretly relieved, he wouldn’t have wanted her to interrupt this time with Potter, whatever that was, but he’ll still complain about it later.

“Oh good, you are still here. I am so sorry I’m late, but I found something better to do.” Draco raises an eyebrow at her, but she raises her own right back at him. She won’t tell him anything. That means most likely she fell asleep but is too embarrassed to say so and too lazy to come up with a believable excuse. Or she sneaked into the kitchen and begged some sweets from the house elves, who, for some reason she refuses to share; they adore her and give her everything she asks for. Draco would complain about that too, but first he has to talk about Potter, before he can convince himself it never happened and he imagined it.

“Well, hand over that jar then, because I have to tell you something.” Pansy’s eyes light up, greedy for the coin and the gossip.

***

The jar is almost full, the newest addition piling on and threatening to spill over. Draco asked her once why she didn’t charm it, it would be easy enough, but Pansy rolled her eyes at him, telling him that would defeat the purpose because it wouldn’t show the unbelievable frequency of which he talks about Potter; using a charm would ruin the aesthetic.

Draco has to admit, the picture of the jar filled to bursting underlines her point quite well. Maybe he should have listened to her when she complained that he talks about Potter too much – but there are more important things than stroking her ego right now. He had a very good reason for paying this time.

“So you’re going on a date with him, you said?” Pansy climbs on his bed, legs folded under herself, making no move to pick out clothes. Draco sighs.

“Yes, I’ve said it five times now, it’s not that difficult to understand.”

Pansy pouts at him, crosses her arms and still doesn’t do anything to help. “I would advise you to be nicer if you want my help to choose the perfect outfit. I need more information first, did you force a love potion in him?”

Draco gives up, Pansy needs her gossip or she won’t move a finger to help him. Usually that wouldn’t be a problem, he usually loves telling her every detail to hear her judgements - but this feels too fragile, too intimate, to share. Draco would have to talk a whole lot of nonsense to distract her from the fact that he’ll tell her practically nothing.

“I am affronted that you think I would need such vile means. No, he simply admitted that I was right when he said he doesn’t know me and never did but he wants to change that now.” That was alright to share, the bare facts, giving not much away while still enough it’s not too obvious he’s not telling her something, like the fact he isn’t telling her how Potter was blushing and stammering, falling over his words in such a striking contrast to that day in the library that Draco couldn’t believe it. Or how he isn’t telling her Potter accidentally admitted to talking so much about Draco that Weasley got fed up with it and threatened to ask Draco out for him if he didn’t find the guts to do it himself. And he definitely isn’t telling her how endearing it was, how charming.

“And I suppose you were the picture of nonchalance while the person you have been pining after since we were in 4th year asked you on a date?” Draco wasn’t. He’d been blushing too, trying desperately, and ultimately, vainly, to suppress a smile before making a fool out of himself by asking why in Merlin’s name Potter would possibly want to date him. Potter, the bastard, found his footing somewhere and told him that if he wanted to know he would have to agree, because he was not going to satisfy his thirst for validation in some random corridor in-between classes. Despite the implication that Draco depends on Potter’s validation, he agreed, Potter’s blinding smile making the whole thing worth it. None of this is any of Pansy’s business.

“Yes, but that is besides the point. I asked you to help me choose something to wear, not to analyse the start of our relationship.” He didn’t expect his attempt to get her to start being useful to work, especially after realising that even mentioning a relationship was the wrong move entirely.

“Someone is confident.”

“Of course I am! How could Potter possibly resist me once he truly gets to know me?” That Draco is terrified Potter will realise that he doesn’t want to learn more about Draco after all isn’t something Pansy needs to know either. Neither is the fact that Draco isn’t quite sure yet that this isn’t an elaborate prank. Potter seemed sincere when he asked Draco out, and he’d never been this kind of cruel, but Draco worried nonetheless. That’s something he really understood for the first time during the war; fear isn’t a rational thing.

“Of course, how could I ever doubt your charming personality?” Draco throws one of his robes at her, making her laugh and finally stand up to help him. Thank Merlin, Draco’s thoughts are all over the place; he doesn’t trust himself to choose something even halfway decent like this.

***

A few years later

“Calm down Draco, I already told you, you look fabulous.” Pansy keeps tugging at his suit, righting his tie, pulling on his sleeves. “Stop fidgeting, you’re ruining my hard work!”

Draco can’t help it – he’s nervous. There are so many things that could go wrong, so many things that could sabotage this whole day. “What about the flowers, did that incompetent moron of a florist get them right.”

“Yes, I told you - it’s all perfect. Merlin, had I known what an insufferable groom you would be I would have denied you when you asked if you could host the wedding here.” She repeats; indeed she’d told him nothing else this entire morning. Apparently everything’s going according to plan. But Draco isn’t allowed to leave this room; the moment he arrived he was pushed in here, some nonsense about seeing each other before the ceremony being bad luck. It left him with no way to control things and too much time to envision what could go wrong.

“You have known me all my life Pansy, if you still didn’t expect this, that is on you. And it’s only fair we get to celebrate here, the view is gorgeous and I practically paid for the thing.” He loves reminding her the house she bought should at least half belong to him, having financed it almost all by himself through those ridiculous jars. Still, Draco tries to focus on their conversation, to trust that she is right when she says things are well and enjoy the feeling of anticipation.

“I didn’t force you to talk nonstop about Potter.”

The mention of Harry makes Draco stop in his frenzy, bringing a smile to his face as he remembers Harry’s smiles when they planned this, how much Harry loves this house, how he pulled Draco with him to see if the room would be big enough to dance in, a terrible transparent excuse Draco didn’t call him out on. “Have you seen Harry? Is he-”

“Draco stop! Now listen to me.” Pansy takes his face in her hands, forcing him to still and look into her eyes. “This day is going to be perfect. You planned every single detail with Narcissa, and there is no one who can throw a better party than her. The flowers are lovely, the food is exactly how you ordered, all the guests have arrived and are currently slowly taking their seats. Potter loves you, Draco. He will say yes. You will stand in front of that altar and declare your love for each other, you will have a wonderful day with only people you love here, and they will congratulate you, giving you more presents than you know what to do with. Everything will be perfect. And even if not, you are marrying the man you love today, what does anything else matter?”

Pansy is right, what does it matter, as long as Harry’s there? Calm floods through him, leaving him still exited and giddy to get out there, but taking all the nervousness and worries. He’s marrying Harry today, they will spend the whole day dancing and laughing and kissing and will dedicate their lives to each other. “Thank you Pansy, I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“Oh hush, save the sentimental gushing for your husband.” Pansy’s clearly not unaffected either, but she waves it away and hugs him before pushing him towards the door, towards a lifetime with Harry.