#except the people who oppose everything you stand for

[ajunicetryagain]

Voting once gives them power.

Voting consistently gives you power.

A lot of more liberal people, especially young people, have this view of voting that is so wildly disconnected from reality that I sometimes struggle to understand how they could get it so wrong.

Voting is not about finding the perfect candidate or withholding your vote to "punish" an imperfect candidate.

Voting is picking the least bad option for a job that's going to be filled no matter what. Voting is showing up every single time, especially in primaries, so that the least bad option shifts over time to a decent option to a genuinely good one. Voting is picking the option more likely to listen when you write in, when you organize, when you protest—and to work with the people you vote for down ballot.

Voting is not about endorsing the party as it is. Voting is about developing your power as a necessary cohort so you can reshape party priorities and candidates over time. Good candidates are the product of strong progressive voting blocs, not the other way around.

Voting is not something you do for them. Voting is something you do for all of us.

This is the second time in my voting history that I’ve participated in flipping a red seat in Alabama for Democrats (the previous time being my beloved Doug Jones) so it’s always funny to see people turn around and say voting doesn’t matter when I’ve seen it twice in the past ten years flip seats in what is supposed to be safe Republican country. Republicans are digging their own grave with their radicalization and it is making them lose (and with your help we can make them lose harder). Vote.

[fairqves]

﹙ 🎬 ﹚ ────ENEMIES IN PUBLIC, LOVERS IN SECRET.

(🐰) ── 𝓟ARK SUNGHOON﹙성훈﹚ ꒰ 𝓰. oneshot ៸ fluff ៸ secret relationship ୨୧ㅤㅤ WARNiNGS : not proofread ៸ kissing ៸ petnames ៸ sunghoon’s very han seojun coded hehe !! :3 ៸ ❞ badboy! sunghoon x 𝑓! reader ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ꒰ WC : 1.0K ꒱ SYPNoSiS 𐙚 in the quiet of your schools’ hallways, sunghoon reminds you why he’s always worth dealing with the chaos .ᐟ ── LiBRARY

AS THE CLASS PRESIDENT, it was your duty to maintain peace and order in the classroom.

to make sure the “rule-breakers” faced the suitable consequences, the hardworking students were recognized, and the teachers never had to deal with unnecessary chaos.

it was exhausting work, but you took pride in it.

and then there was park sunghoon—your secret boyfriend, and your carefully hidden exception.

to everyone else, he was the bad boy delinquent who barely showed up to class, skipped homework assignments, and got into arguments with authority figures.

the exact epitome of everything you were supposed to oppose.

but to you, when you two were alone, he was the complete opposite—someone entirely different—a boy with a soft laugh, a charming smile just for you, and a certain way of looking at you that made your heart race every single time. ── 𝖱𝖤𝖲𝖳 𝖡𝖤𝖫𝖮𝖶!

you and sunghoon had agreed to keep your relationship a secret. it was better that way. after all, what would people say if they found out the class president and the class delinquent were dating?

it would be a messy scandal. so, you and sunghoon perfected the art of pretending.

during the day, you were enemies, constantly bickering and exchanging snarky words.

but when the halls were empty, you were his.

today started out like any other typical day at your school—sunghoon hadn’t bothered showing up to homeroom, as usual, and you were busy running around, making sure everyone was prepared for the upcoming student council meeting.

it was tiring work, but at least it kept your mind off your boyfriend who didn’t reply to your texts since last night.

that is, until he strolled into class halfway through the period, late as always. his uniform was untucked, his tie loose around his neck, and he had that infuriating grin painted across his face.

the teacher barely looked up from her lecture, clearly used to his antics by now.

you shot him a glare as he slid into his seat near the back, but he only winked at you, his smile widening.

your heart skipped a beat, but you forced yourself to look away. he was so frustrating. how could he make you swoon and seethe all at once?

it wasn’t long before his troublemaking streak caught up with him—when the teacher called on him for an answer, he responded with a crude comment that had the class stifling their laughter.

the teacher, however, was not amused.

“out in the hallway at once, park sunghoon!” she snapped, pointing to the door with furrowed brows—at this point, sunghoon was probably the cause of those wrinkles on her forehead.

with an exaggerated sigh, sunghoon stood and made his way out of the room, his hands stuffed in his pockets.

he barely looked fazed as he took up his punishment—standing outside with his hands on his head, posing with nonchalance.

you tried to focus on the lecture, but your gaze kept drifting to the doorway. why did he have to be so difficult?

your next class president task required you to deliver a stack of papers to the student council room.

as you stepped into the hallway, you were so focused on balancing the stack folders in your arms that you didn’t notice sunghoon until it was too late.

the collision was out of nowhere—your foot tumbled over the other. the stack of papers scattered, and you braced yourself for the hard and sudden impact of the floor.

but it never came.

instead, a strong arm snaked around your waist, pulling you back up just before you fell.

you blinked up, startled, to find yourself inches away from sunghoon’s face—his hand was steady, resting on your waist, his other catching your wrist to keep you upright.

“careful president,” he murmured, his voice a whisper and teasing. “you almost took a pretty hard fall there.”

your heart pounded in your chest as you tried to collect yourself. “i-i’m fine hoon. let me go.”

he didn’t budge, his grip firm yet gentle as he tilted his head to look down at you. “you’re always running around so much baby, maybe you should slow down hm?”

your cheeks flushed pink, both from his words and the way his hand lingered on your waist. “i’m perfectly capable of handling myself,” you muttered, avoiding his gaze.

“hmm.” he smirked, finally releasing you but not before stepping closer, his voice dropping to a whisper only you could hear. “you’re cute when you’re flustered.”

your breath hitched. it was a tone only you knew—the soft, teasing warmth he saved just for you.

“stop it,” you hissed under your breath, glancing nervously toward the classroom door.

he chuckled, bending down to collect the scattered papers. “relax. no one’s watching.”

still, you couldn’t shake the warmth spreading through your chest as he handed the papers back to you.

his fingers brushed against yours, and he gave you a look that was so infuriatingly tender it made you want to explode in screams.

“you’re impossible,” you muttered, adjusting the stack in your arms and turning to leave.

“wait,” he said, his voice softer now.

you paused, glancing over your shoulder. “what?”

sunghoon took a step closer, his smirk giving up to something gentler—his hand reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair away from your face.

before you could process what was happening, he leaned in and pressed a soft, tender kiss to your lips.

your entire body froze, your heart was pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it.

“you looked like you needed that,” he murmured, his lips pointing into a grin.

you stared at him, doe eyed and speechless. heat rushed to your cheeks, and you scrambled to find your voice. “y-you can’t just—”

“shh,” he interrupted, placing his finger on your lips to silence you, his grin turning mischievous. “don’t act like you didn’t like it.”

unable to form a coherent response, you spun around and bolted down the hallway, your heart in your throat.

behind you, sunghoon’s laughter echoed softly, followed by his teasing voice calling after you—

“you’re so cute when you run away, president.”

and though you wanted to be mad, you couldn’t help the way your lips turned into a smile as you clutched the papers to your chest, your heart still racing from his touch.

© FAIRQVES 2024 do not repost, plagiarize, or translate.

NOTE. ITS FRIDAY !! this week was actually so stressful i’m so sorry for the inactivity guys :( after january my active era will be making a comeback due to semester changes hehe 😋😋 my ts concert is next friday i’m so excited goodbye.

୨୧ TAGLIST OPEN ‹𝟹 @mioons @nshmuras @suneng @pnghoon @shawnyle @laylasbunbunny @privareum @briefsaladfun @cyjzzl @sol3chu @txtlyn @d-dilemma @deezbin @iluvnikism @rikibwn @wonsprincess @niawonn @pockyyasii @kiss4noo @nineooooo @loves0ft @ancnymcnzjy : COMMENT OR SEND AN ASK TBA.

[tyrantisterror]

For whatever reason, I found myself thinking about the theme of heritage/inheritance in Harry Potter and how it's, like, catastrophically broken in the text.

The villains in Harry Potter are almost unanimously racist and classist - they believe they are entitled to behave however they wish and live at the top of the social hierarchy because they were born to rich, pureblooded families, and anyone who wasn't is filth to be exploited and/or purged. That's the philosophy of evil in the book - "I deserve everything because I was born in the right family with the right genes and the right social standing. My heritage makes me better than you."

All the injustice and evil in the books is rooted in this belief in entitlement by way of heritage. People are abused and die because of it. Inherited wealth and status, and more specifically the unfair priveleges it affords, is the root of evil in Harry Potter.

So you'd think the protagonist would present some sort of strong contrast to it, right? That they'd be born poor, or mixed race, etc. But no, Harry is from a rich pureblood family, with the vast wealth and social status that affords.

Well, that's OK, we can still make a contrast. Maybe Harry differs in how he acts with wealth - perhaps, realizing his inheritance is an unfair privilege, he gives it away? Maybe he works to give the underprivileged their due? Again, no, not really. He sometimes buys stuff for his poor friend Ron, and defends his "mudblood" friend Hermione from racist criticism, but he sees no reason to change the system that dehumanizes them in the first place, and by the end of the tale is pleased to exploit his privilege for his own gain.

The whole house elf subplot illustrates this failing well - we have a race of slaves who are frequently shown to suffer from abuse. One of them, the property of a rich racist, risks his life to save Harry, and Harry frees him in return. Oh, nice, finally fighting the system, eh? Except no, not really - while Harry frees that specific slave, he's content to leave the others in bondage, especially when he inherits a slave of his own.

The contrast Harry Potter puts up against its rich, racist, privileged villains is "Hey, being rich and higher in the hierarchy is awesome and just, but you can't be a dick about it." That slaves belong in the dirt, but masters should be polite while putting them in their place.

Voldemort posits himself as the heir of Slytherin - claiming his inheritance is vital to his rise to power and villainy. And Harry opposes him by... also claiming inheritance from a rich old dead guy. Hell, the final battle comes down to who rightfully inherits a specific rare Wand!

The fact that Harry and Voldemort have shit in common is not a flaw on its own - villains and heroes are often foils for each other. But in this specific tale, the relationship the villain has with inherited power is so central to the conflict that the hero having the exact same relationship is a major failing. The story is just shy of saying "Voldemort was basically right, but he shouldn't have been rude about it." It's bad from both a moral and a writing skill perspective.

(The only inheritance Harry fully rejects is parseltongue, i.e. the ability to talk to snakes, which was accidentally given to him by Voldemort, and could be argued to be a symbol of trauma rather than inherited wealth. Also I'm still salty about how that series turned on snakes so cruelly, but that's a whole other rant.)

[thesilmarillionblog]

𓏲 𓂃 L o s i n g Y o u

Series Masterlist is here.

Summary: Everything was good as a member of Payback and Soldier Boy's secret girlfriend until the team and your relationship with him began to fall apart due to a new member and her developing relationship with Ben right in front of your eyes.

Pairing: Soldier Boy / Reader

Warnings: Heavy angst, hurt, heartless Soldier Boy, reader gets hurt, mention of violence, mention of drugs, betrayal, Soldier Boy being a dick, reader is a supe, Crimson Countess is a bitch

Word Count: 1796

A/N: English is not my first language.

* This story is inspired by the song "Losing You" by Dream Evil.

“Get lost fuckface and bring me a coffee,” Ben said telling the the poor guy who was trying his best to make Soldier Boy happy till the broadcast start.

The announcement of the new Payback member to the American public was scheduled for today. The company's executives had already made the decision to bring on a new employee, despite the fact that the team already had enough members. Everyone on the team opposed this idea, with the exception of Soldier Boy and you, but nothing changed.

You didn't mind if a new person joined the team because they were assigning Soldier Boy all tasks, regardless of importance, and you could see he was growing more and more irate with each passing day. Given that Black Noir was the team's second-strongest member, it was obvious Soldier Boy didn't appreciate the concept of being used for insignificant tasks constsantly. It was obvious that the team definitely required one more strong member.

“You don’t have to be so rude to those people,” you murmered as you approached Ben. "They are all scared of you already.”

Ben chuckled as he sat down and sniffed the white dust, saying, “I am not familiar with the concept of princess treatment, sweetheart, and nobody respects a pussy leader; keep that in mind.”

You sighed knowing he would never change his attitude just because you told him to. He pulled you to his lap and gave you a quick and firm kiss, silencing you before you argue with him.

All of you were taken aback when a new supe was introduced because you hadn't seen her before. She smiled and gave a short but impactful speech about how she would benefit America and its citizens. She looked nice and strong with her red suit and long red hair.

You were only made to feel worse by the fact that everyone was rooting for Soldier Boy and Crimson Countess every day, and their fan base became stronger over time. The current Crimson Countess stood on the side where you used to stand. They were singing together in ads while standing side by side and hand in hand, which was keeping you up at nights. The growing distance between you and Ben was eating you alive.

He hardly ever visited or spoke to you during the day, despite the fact that he used to spend the night with you in the past. There were moments when you tried to talk to him about what was going on, but he waved you off right away, saying he had things to do and couldn't be seen with any other woman but the Countess.

You were frequently questioned about their relationship, and you smiled while telling the cameras that they were lucky to have found each other and that they were strong together. If only they were aware of your true feelings.

Even though Ben continued to treat Noir rudely, which greatly upset and angered you, the rest of the crew was glad that Soldier Boy had finally become distracted. This was because they had been mistreated and bullied by him less than in the past. You two had heated disagreements over Noir as well in the past, but Ben consistently ignored your emotions and ideas. Now that Crimson also supported him about how he should treat the team made your blood boil with hatred and agony.

Noir remarked, removing his mask, “I can't do this, Y/N. I refuse to bow to him and put up with the way he treats me.”

You walked up to him and touched his back to get him to turn to face you. “What do you mean?” you questioned.

“I’m saying he is not worthy of being a leader.” Noir paced violently and stated, “All he does is get high with Crimson and bully me and everyone around him. He left you aside too.”

Though you knew he didn’t mean to hurt you, his words cut deep and silenced you for a second.

“Don’t do something crazy, Noir. You hear me?” You asked, ignoring his thoughts about Ben leaving you. “You know his short temper.”

Noir was always kind and kind, so you were surprised to see him so furious, but you knew he was right about everything, and Ben seemed to be getting worse and more distant every day as his connection with Countess took shape right before your eyes. You seemed to be deceiving yourself all along when you told yourself that their relationship wasn't real.

“I don’t know. Someone must do something about this.”

“You don’t stand a chance against him,” you said as you grasped his arms tightly. “I’ll talk to him, okay. I’ve got this, I promise.”

Noir gave you a nod before he put the mask on, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

You waited patiently until you learned Ben would be alone tonight because Crimson would be going on a mission. Your heart raced when you entered his house without saying anything. He must have heard the noises you made already, because he turned to you immediately and did not look surprised to see you.

“Hi,” you whispered, not knowing how to react around him anymore.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he asked as he sat down in the coach after. He was high on cocaine.

As you walked up to him, you gave him a disappointed expression, but the way he looked stopped you. In the past, you were close every second, but those days are long in the past now.

“What’s wrong with you?” Your eyes were watery as you asked. It seemed like you would explode at any moment.

“Are fucking on your period? Why so sensitive?” His smile infuriated you, and he laughed as if something amusing had happened. There was something very punchable about his face.

“Why do you still treat Noir like a fucking jackass? He follows your instructions to the letter, and you are simply being disrespectful to him and the team as a whole.” You spoke angrily, as if you wanted him to share your feelings of rage. You wanted to wipe that foolish smile off his face.

His body abruptly shifted, giving you a menacing glance and raising his finger in your direction. “Don't fucking give me some advise. Who the fuck are you? You do realize that I am the fucking boss here, don't you?”

He hasn't been this angry with you in a long time, so you were surprised by his harsh remarks. It seemed like he hated you as he spat those words.

You yelled back, “I don't even know the man I'm talking to anymore,” at which point your tears finally fell. “Since Crimson entered your life, you have changed, Ben. She fucking hates you; she doesn't even love you. Don’t you see it?”

He was eventually enraged by your screams at him, and he stood in front of you with hate in his eyes. Your heart pained when you saw him staring at you like that, with eyes full of anger and fury.

“Do you know what I'm going to do?” He asked softly, as if he were just saying something kind. “I'm fucking gonna kill that masked pussy Noir and fucking make sure you watch through it.”

His cold words frozen you, and your eyes widened seeing he meant every word he said.

You shoved him away by his chest and sobbed, “If you ever touch Noir, I swear I'll cut Countess’ bitch head and throw it to your fucking thick skull.”

You were aware that nothing or no one could stop Ben from doing what he wanted to do, and that you might be the reason Noir was put to death or anything like. Your pulse raced upon witnessing Ben's unexpected outburst of rage against Noir.

Judging by his face, it was clear he was taken aback by your sharp words. You’ve never talked in athreatening way before with anyone. Your sigh and sobbing were the only things that filled the pregnant silence in the room.

“Ben,” you said softly, trying to reach again one more time, and you touched his face, hoping he wouldn’t push your hands back. To your surprise, he didn’t make a move. You looked him into the eyes between your tears and said, “I am the only one who truly loves you. Not her, not anyone else. Just me. What happened to us?”

You waited for him to answer you after you gave him a firm kiss, showing your love and care for him, but he didn’t kiss you back. Instead, he pushed your hands away from his face, with an unreadable look on his face.

“Why are you being selfish?” he asked, breaking the silence, almost irritated by your kindness toward him. “People love seeing me and her together. Duty fucking comes first.”

“You don’t owe love to her just to be loved by people you don’t even know,” you said, trying to convince him he didn’t have to do something he didn’t want to.

“How the fuck do you know I’m doing this for people only?”

“What do you mean?” you asked, as your heart skipped for a moment.

“Maybe I’m fed up with your soft attitude, and I want to be with her. How about that?” He said he was giving you an insidious smile.

With a heavy heart, you stepped back from him as more tears dropped from your cheeks. There was no point trying to convince Ben for your love while he didn’t give a fuck about it at all and the one he wanted was actually Countess.

“Is that what you want?”

“It fucking is,” he said, sitting down in the coach and keeping sniffing cocaine, like the conversation meant nothing to him and he wanted you to be gone.

Before leaving his house, you turned him one last time, saying, “She’ll betray you, Ben. I don’t know if I see that day, but you’ll see it.”

Next Chapter

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

A/N: Well, that was a one shot, but let me know if you think that I should make it multi-chapters. Comments are appreciated, hehehe. <33

[sp0o0kylights]

Part One / Part Two / Part Three (You Are Here)

Complete Thing on A03

Sure enough, Jason Carver had brought a priest. 

The idiot himself stood next to the guy, smugly grinning like a hunter posing with his prized buck, a small crowd already gathering. 

Opposing them was Michael Wheeler, hands planted on Hellfire’s table and back up like a pissed off cat’s, mouth moving faster than Eddie thought possible.

He couldn’t hear what Wheeler was saying. 

Frankly did not want to know what Wheeler was saying, and could only do his damndest to intervene before Mike tanked the situation entirely. 

Gareth and Jeff flanked him, both tense as hell. Neither had backed down though, standing tall and holding ground even as Jason pulled more and more people into his little spectacle. 

Lucas and Grant on the other hand, were standing off to the side.

They weren’t cowering exactly, but both were definitely wincing as Gareth opened his mouth to add his own two cents. 

Given the scowl on the priest, it was probably something nasty, 

‘Fuck.’ Eddie thought, teeth clenched, as Jason drew out his arms, making an even bigger production for his little audience. ‘Fuck, fuck, fuck!’ 

The worst thing of all? 

Dustin managed to reach the group before anyone else did. 

Wheeler and Emerson might have low charisma, but Dustin had a particular combination of snark and a know-it-all attitude that really pissed off authority figures. 

(And Eddie would know, given he was the reigning champion of pissing off authority figures.) 

He did, however, slide in right in time to hear the priest respond. 

“I don’t care for your tone, young man. Jason here has some concerns over your club and I have to agree, what I see is quite,” The guy paused, jowls jiggling as he looked over their table, clearly eyeing Hellfire’s logo. “alarming.” 

 At least wasn’t an actual sermon.

Not yet, anyway. 

Eddie came up right inbetween Mike and Dustin, intending to make himself out to be the new target for all to aim at.  

There was an art to making yourself the sole owner of everything evil in this world, and Eddie had learned it all, trial by fire style.  

“Carver is full of--” Mike snarled, and thankfully was cut off—not by Eddie, or the hand he’d just clamped onto Mike’s shoulder—but by Harrington. 

Who sauntered right up as if he was joining everyone for dinner, and not walking into a circus act.

“Hello Father.” Harrington said, voice warm and welcoming.  “Would you like some of our cookies? We have a sample platter.” 

“Oh--Steve!” The priest blinked, actually blinked, that he was startled to see Hawkins’ golden boy appear next to him. “I’m sorry but no. I’m ah, here for other reasons.”

He paused so long it was nearly comedic before tentatively asking; “ Are you with this table?”

Like the guy couldn’t see the same Hellfire logo plastered across Steve’s ridiculous jock chest. 

Eddie opened his mouth to give a resounding no, Hellfire shirt or not--when Mike of all people put an elbow into his side. 

As if Eddie was the one who needed to be silenced.  

“I am.” Steve put an arm down on Dustin’s shoulder, squeezing it in a way that looked like fond encouragement (but what Eddie was pretty sure was actually a warning in the same way the hand on Mike’s shoulder was.) “I came to help out my friends and fundraise.”

Then he beamed, face lighting up with the full Harrington charm, giga watt smile and all. 

Now the priest just looked awkward. 

“You’ve apparently been fundraising for what I have been told is a…Satanist Club?” 

It was hilariously delicate, how the priest said it. Like now that a respectable member of Hawkins was here, he had to be more careful about what words he used. 

Eddie would have interrupted then.  Retake the reins and do what he did best in terms of making everyone forget about everything but him--except Carver was rounding on Harrington, and well.

He was always a fan of the rich eating each other. 

“You cannot seriously be with these--these,” Jason’s eyes darted to between him and the priest, before physically reigning himself in. “hooligans, Harrington!” 

“I’m sorry.” Harrington said, and whatever Jason had been expecting to get hit with, it wasn’t “good ol’ boy” southern charm. 

He blinked, taking on the air of a kicked puppy who couldn’t understand why someone would be so mean as he glanced around the crowd.  “I think I'm a little lost here.” 

Jason clearly wasn’t prepared for that either. 

“What?” 

“This table is for a storytelling and math game.” Steve spoke slowly, in the same way one explained things to a toddler. “You have to roll dice and add the numbers up to do anything."

“It’s not a game, Steve.” Jason spat back. “It’s an evil trick made to tempt the susceptible minds of children to the dark arts!” 

Personally, Eddie was amazed Carver even knew the word susceptible let alone be able to properly use it in a sentence. 

(He tried to open his mouth to say so, and once again got elbowed, this time by Gareth. 

The look he gave his younger friend could have melted steel beams.)

“That’s what this is about?” Harrington slid his arm off Dustin's shoulders, leaning back to look at the priest and the people around them in a show of blatant disbelief. “You think the nerd club is related to satanism?” 

It was Eddie's own tactic--arguing that D&D was “using academic skills” and “making math fun!" not that Hellfire had ever been successful using it.

Of course, they weren’t Hawkins golden boy either. 

Jason sputtered. 

“It has monsters and--demons in it! It makes children do spells and sign over their souls!” He flung a hand out, for the first time acknowledging Eddie by pointing at his shirt. “Just look at that! It’s awful!”  

"Hey." Eddie said, hand going over his very well drawn dragon.

“I once had to stop an argument about how much weight a wooden bridge could hold.” Steve countered, hands moving to his hips. “I only got them to stop by agreeing to take the kids to a library so they could look it up.” 

He squinted, in Carver's direction, deadpanning; "I take it you think the library is evil now too?"

“The name of the club is called Hellfire!” Jason shrieked, sounding more like an angry teakettle than anything dangerous. 

“Look I get that it sounds scary,” Steve said, the tiniest hint of pity entering his voice, “but they’re trying to make math problems and English essays sound cool. It’s the same reason Father John here calls our annual haunted house Hell House, isn’t it? So people go in it to begin with?” 

Harrington turned to look expectantly at the priest, and Eddie had to admit it was an excellent way to both pander to the guy and sound like Jason was making a big deal out of nothing. 

Perhaps, he’d stay quiet after all. 

(Even if it went against Eddie’s entire being to do so.)

“Well, yes, but--” Father John had clearly picked up on the fact he was losing this particular argument, but plowed forward regardless. “Those activities are supervised by the church…” 

“This is evil Harrington, and you should know better to promote it.” Carver tacked on, like this was a two bit comedy sketch. 

“When I played it we just saved some poor town from a bad guy who set it on fire.” Steve rolled his eyes. 

Then he leaned in, converting his voice into a stage whisper that somehow projected it, giving the impression that everyone around them was listening in on a secret. 

“The doctor said it was a really good way for Dustin and Erica to process the mall fire. He’s a specialist--my mother managed to convince him to fly down to help all the kids who got hurt.” 

Eddie was 100% sure that was total bullshit, but the mere mention of Harrington's mother had seemed to have an effect on the people around them.

 Like Steve had invoked the name of an old but beloved God, not always benevolent but definitely memorable. 

“She’s always been a champion of helping when you can.” Steve spoke to the priest, like they were having a conversation between just the two of them. “Encouraging people to volunteer and helping fundraise.”

“She has been." Father John said, in the kind of instant way one does when they don’t want to offend a very large donor.  "Tell your mom I look forward to her coming back from her--ah, trip.”

 With an awkward glance to the table, he added; “...I suppose I don’t see how math comes into play?” 

“Oh it’s right from the start. Hey Jeff, come here, show Father John how you have to do a bunch of calculations and stuff to make a character.” 

“Ah--right.” Jeff sprung to life, moving around the table to Steve.

“We uh, we start with this character sheet…” 

“Eddie Munson runs the club.” Jason interrupted, before Steve could get Jeff to going.

“He’s right there! Does he look like this whole thing is just an innocent board game?” 

This was a last ditch effort, and it was clear by the chattering that had started circling amongst their audience that everyone knew it. 

Unfortunately, it was a good one.

This was the downside to making yourself a target. Once a bad guy, always a bad guy--particularly in the eyes of the PTA. 

“Munson?” Harrington dismissed with a scoff. “He’s harmless.” 

Which was news to most of their audience given the amount of attention Eddie suddenly had on him, but it was fine. 

He was used to the disapproving stares and glares, and gave his best award winning smile in response. 

Jason looked at Harrington like he’d lost his mind. 

“He has skulls on his fingers for fucks sake!” 

“Jason.” Steve admonished, in a perfect mimic of an upset southern mother. “Language.” 

Carver's jaw dropped, face purpling in rage.

Steve ignored him, turning back to the Priest. “I don’t know what's gotten into him but I’m sorry Jason’s wasted your time, Father.” 

“Munson is a drug dealer!” And ah, here came the Hail Mary move, Carver's one and only trump card.

“We all know he’s a drug dealer, and he’s using this--this game, to give drugs to kids!”

“Really?” Steve turned. “Lucas, what happens if I ever catch you smoking weed?” 

Lucas answered instantly. “You’re going to make us run laps at five in the morning.” 

“For a month.” Dustin added, with an exaggerated shudder. 

It would have been too much--except his disgusted face sold it. 

“Eddie’s just loud and wants to be a rockstar.” Harrington said, like this he was harmless.

No one on Steve's side of things had ever thought of Eddie as harmless.

 “I’ve babysat these kids for years and Eddie was a huge help in making sure no one in high school messed with them.” He continued, like they were some sort of team or friends even.

(Like Eddie hadn't been at Harrington's throat all day, pissy and defensive.)

“We have a real bullying problem right now. Funny enough,” Steve’s nailed Jason with a look, “I keep hearing that it’s coming from the basketball team.” 

“What are you implying?” Jason asked darkly. 

“Just that it’s funny how nobody got caught fighting when I was team captain.” Steve returned. 

God the man was such a bitch. Eddie kind of wanted to kiss him a little. 

Okay, more than a little.

“I get you have some kind of beef with Munson, but let’s not drag a bunch of people into it. Especially not Father John.” Harrington was playing up to the mothers around him now, dismissing Carver entirely as he did so. “He’s a busy guy.”

“Very.” Said Father nodded solemnly. “I do not appreciate being pulled into a high school squabble.” 

Jason’s mouth swam through shapes, words stuttering out of it. “This isn’t, thats not--”

“We can talk about this after church on Sunday.” Father John interrupted, the finishing blow to Carver's little show.

“You came all this way, at least have a cookie on us.” Steve said with an appeasing tone, reaching an arm back behind him.

Quick on the uptake, a cookie appeared in his hands. 

He offered it out to the priest, who took it happily.

"Okay, who wants cake!?” He called, in a clear and obvious dismissal of Jason. 

Who stood there, like he couldn’t believe what just happened. 

His eyes slid to Eddie's, fists clenched tightly at his side, hatred pouring off him so strongly one could almost taste it.

Eddie winked at him.

(Unknown to him at the time, Jason had also looked at Steve--and Steve would wink too.)

xXx

Steve Harrington, who Eddie had been an absolute ass all day too, had looked Jason Carver, a Priest and half of Hawkins in the eye and announced that he, Eddie Munson, was a good person at heart.

It made Eddie want to vomit a little when he thought about it too hard.

“I know this is horrible timing,” Robin said, sidling up as the crowd finally dispersed, “but I really, really need to talk to you.” 

Eddie turned, head full of far too many thoughts and ready to tell her such, when he caught sight of Buckley's face. 

Was reminded, by the sheer nervous, ‘horse about to bolt’ vibe, that he owed it to Robin as a fellow queer not to be a dick about her accidental outing.

Even if all he wanted was to preen in the wake of Carver’s defeat. 

‘See Mothers of Hawkins? Your own golden boy just gave me his stamp of approval!’ 

A mental image that immediately changed to Steve Harrington’s name stamped on his ass and dammit he had to get ahold of his thoughts before he fell down rabbit holes like this--!

“Back there, at the stairs,” Robin started, voice dropping low, and Eddie didn’t miss the way her eyes kept seeking out Steve, like he was some kind of safety net--which he probably was. “What um--what did you hear?” 

It took a lot of guts to come talk to him, knowing what he'd overheard--particularly given they'd just fended off the church.

He'd never exactly underestimated Robin Buckley, but then, he'd never expected this level of badassery from her either.

“Eddie?” Robin prodded again, chewing hard on her bottom lip.

“Sorry, distracted.” Eddie waved a hand behind himself. “Not everyday the King decides to defend your honor to a priest.” 

With a little bow, he offered his elbow out to her, a clear signal to take it and let him escort them away from unwanted ears.

In a show of bravery, Robin took his elbow and let him lead, even as she frowned up at him, looking like she was about to say something.

Likely it was in defense of Harrington, but Eddie had been interrupted enough for one day. 

“You and His Highness over there really should be more aware of your surroundings." He started, voice low. "Lucky for you, you’re among friends. You and Dorothy both.” 

He reached a foot out, tapping Robin’s own. 

Right on top of a doodled pair of tits. 

Robin let go of his elbow and glanced down, before flinging her head right back up, panicked.

"I--"

“If you’d like I can pretend I never heard a thing.” Eddie interrupted, dropping his voice into the gentler tone he reserved for delicate conversations.

People were always surprised by the lengths he went to make sure someone was comfortable--but then, people also forgot how often Eddie heard things he shouldn’t. 

People didn't take drugs just for fun, after all.

“Or I can offer a friend of a friend discount on my wares,” He put a finger to his lips, miming smoking with one hand while he opened his vest with the other to flash the little pink triangle pin that sat inside, announcing his own sexualities status.

“and we can, say, discuss the differences between radical and social feminism while admiring the fine forms of Susan Sarandon and Peter Hinwood?”

The smile he gets is two parts relief, one part genuine delight and Eddie grinned right back at her, flicking his vest closed.

“I did not take you for a Peter Hinwood type.” Robin said it hesitantly, still waiting for the other shoe to drop. “Thought you’d find Tim Curry’s…acting skills, more to your taste.”

“In the case of Rocky Horror? I am Tim Curry.” He announced, loud and proud (well for this kind of conversation at least.) 

He was rewarded by the tension finally melting out of Robin’s shoulders. 

(This, Eddie reflected, is what he should have been doing this entire time, instead of getting tied up in knots over Harrington and turning into some kind of non-conformist tyrant.) 

“Do you actually know the differences between social and radical feminism?” Robin challenged, braver now, and Eddie knew then and there he’d been successful in assuring her her secret was safe.

That she was safe, with him.

“Guess you’ll have to find out.” Eddie said, giving a playful nudge to her shoulder. 

Baths in the laugh he gets for it, and for the first time today feels like he’s finally on firmer ground.

They chatted for a moment longer, making a loop on the very outskirts of the gym, voices hushed when it came to things that small town ears shouldn’t overhear--but of course, Robin couldn’t just leave things at that.

“Hey Eddie?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Can you do me one more favor?”

“Anything for you, my favorite feminist.” 

For the first time since this conversation started, Robin managed to sound firm. 

“Stop referring to Steve as a King.” 

She rushed ahead, anticipating being cut off, and thus Eddie is hit with a wave of words, none of which he’d ever thought he’d hear in relation to thee Steven Harrington. 

“He’s working really hard to get away from it, the whole King thing and how he used to be. I don’t know what all he did to like--you guys,” She flapped her hand in the general direction of Hellfire, “and I know he wasn’t an innocent bystander, but I kinda realized over the summer that I blamed him for a lot of things that were in my own head, and that he wasn’t--he was never as bad as I thought he was and he's still trying to make it up to me anyway.”

Robin trailed off, seeming to try and piece out what she wanted to say next without giving away the whole farm. “It’s not some act, Eddie. Steve’s really trying to change.” 

Which yeah.

Eddie could see that, now. 

Maybe not before but…

“Okay.” He said, after a long, long moment. “No more King Steve. Got it.”

The smile he got for that also felt like a victory, even if it was wrenched out of him.

xXx

Two hours and a dispersed crowd later, Eddie found himself once again stuck in his own head. 

The facts were thus:

Steve Harrington was a good dude. 

He used his good dude-ness to save Hellfire from a literal priest, right smack in front of God and Principal Hairy Ass both

All of Hellfire actually liked him 

According to Robin Buckley, Steve was entirely fine with “all us triangles” quote/unquote 

And;

Eddie was jealous.

He was self aware enough to admit it, alongside the fact that Jason Carver aside, maybe Eddie had been the villain today instead of Steve. 

Which meant he not only owed Harrington an apology, but he owed it to both of them to work out his own stupid shit before it blew up in his face and cost him all his friends.

(He’d have called this move “pulling a Harrington” before today but now that feels mean, which Eddie supposes signals he’s grown as a person or some shit.) 

So now he sits on Steve’s beemer, knowing the move will likely antagonize the ex-jock but equally knowing he’s planning on jumping off the car the second the guy comes near, and that the move itself will get Harrington to listen to him the second he’s done supervising whatever Hellfire’s youngest is doing.

(Eating leftover cookies like the older members are as they finish packing up, Eddie assumes.) 

Ducking out like he did had allowed him some much needed time to think things though. Figure out what he was going to say--without an audience present.

He’d apologize publicly if he had to. But being vulnerable is hard, and given the way his friends had been acting, Steve isn’t the only person he owes an apology to. 

For now, he’ll begin here, without an audience. 

Eddie doesn’t get to plan for long--only gets to rehearse a few lines of his little spiel when a pointed cough jerks him back to reality. 

There stands Steve Harrington, a fat wad of cash in one hand and a box in the other.

Like a man sent to the gallows, Eddie leapt off the beemer, squaring his shoulders. 

He could do this.

 Apologize-- and mean it. 

Not that Steve gave him the chance to. 

“The guys told me to give this to you.” He said, holding out the cash. Then he took a breath, like he was preparing to go to war, and added; 

“I know you weren’t happy with me being here, and you probably don’t want this, but Dustin said you really liked cinnamon brownies so I made you some.” 

The box was now held out alongside the cash, proof that Steve had tried to start this whole thing off on the right foot. 

Eddie stared at it, then at Steve. 

Felt the guilt chew on his gut just that much harder.

“I have been shitty to you all day. Why are you giving me this?” 

Steve shrugged. 

“To be fair I didn’t exactly make it easy on you either. You said jump and I said ‘watch this’.” Steve laughed, a small, almost self depicting sound. “Dustin’s been on my ass all day about it.” 

Of course he had. 

“Mine too.” Eddie admitted. “It's his tone, I swear."

“Yes!” 

Carefully, Eddie reached out, accepted the box and the cash. 

“Thanks by the way. For the stuff you said about me earlier.” 

Steve grimaced, cheeks tinting a (lickable) red. “Yeah sorry, I--”

“No not--not that stuff.’ Eddie said, mentally hauling his thoughts back in line, fiddling with the cash. “The stuff about being a good person. No one’s uh. Said that. About me.”

Not except for Wayne, but Harrington wouldn’t know nor care about Eddie’s uncle. 

Steve shrugged. “I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.” 

He’d argue that, except something was off. 

It took Eddie a moment to place it--that the wad Steve handed over was way too big for the little bake sale they’d just attended. 

He tucked the box under his arm, quickly counting the stack with a smoothness only drug dealers and bank tellers could manage.

“It’s all there, I promise.” Steve told him simply, but without judgment. He sounded like he expected this and that didn’t sit right with Eddie either. 

Not that he could do anything about it because he’d just counted up didn’t make any sense. 

Not trusting himself, Eddie stacked it back together, before counting it all again. He was faster this time, trying to figure out among all the ones, fives and tens how the hell they had managed to sell that many cookies. 

Particularly considering the most expensive thing was one of the cakes and he’d watched Steve sell it for fifteen dollars. 

So why were there three twenties sitting in the stack? 

“Either you up charged the absolute shit out of someone’s mom, in which case I congratulate you, you sneaky devil,” Eddie said slowly, “Or you put extra cash in here.” 

Steve blushed properly this time. 

Eddie zeroed in on his face, watching as Steve rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, trying to pull his charming mask into place.

He didn't quite manage it.

Hadn’t even been wearing it before now, Eddie realized suddenly.

This entire conversation Steve had a realness to him that Eddie had never really seen. 

Had maybe not wanted to see, from someone like Harrington. 

“I don’t know what you mean.” Steve protested, like a kid who’d been caught with a hand in the cookie jar. “That’s what we charged.” 

“You are a terrible liar.” Eddie accused, hand trembling. “We can’t take this, man. This is a almost two hundred dollars.” 

Way more than what they’d need for Gen Con. It was enough to get them two fuckin’ hotel rooms! 

“If It helps any, I didn’t do it for you.” Steve’s blush slid into something more genuine, as he nodded his head to where Hellfire was spilling out of the gym doors, laughing and shoving one another. 

“They deserve to have a good trip.” He added, eyes fond as he watched Dustin and Mike squabble over how to fold Hellfire's banner.

It made his whole face soften, the harsh features of his jaw turning into something that was so adorable Eddie wanted to bite through it. 

“Do you want to come?” Someone said, and it took both Steve’s startled look and a second long pause for Eddie to realize that someone was him.

Stupid, stupid, stupid-! 

“To the convention?” Steve asked, looking doubtful. 

Pity that Eddie was already nodding, like his brain and his body were at a total disconnect.

Maybe aliens had finally taken him over. Or a demon. 

(Demonic possession could frankly explain a lot about today, Carver’s weird little power play aside.)

“Dude you don’t even like me.” Steve said. “Why would you want me to come along?” 

“I dunno Harrington. All of Hellfire seemed to like you, and not just my freshman.” Eddie countered easily, gliding right over the fact that he himself did like Steve.

Way more than he should, and that right there was half of Eddie’s problem. 

“They have pretty good taste in things.” He waived a hand, as if this wasn’t a complete 180 from how he’d acted all day. “I could understand if you didn’t want to slum it with us nerds though.”

Steve rolled his eyes. 

“I’ve been slumming it all day with you nerds, if you haven’t noticed.” 

“Yeah? What’s your verdict on us?” 

“Not as bad as you could be.” 

Eddie tilted his head back and laughed. “High praise from the King!”

He felt bad immediately after, and made himself promise to be more mindful about Robin’s ask--but  thankfully Harrington didn’t take it hard. 

(Habits, Eddie knew, were hard to change.

Took a lot of careful attention to change. 

He had a long road ahead of him, and he hoped this little olive branch put him a few miles down it.) 

Steve awarded him a small smile. “I haven’t been the King for a long while, man. But if you guys have an opening, I think I wouldn’t mind being a knight or whatever.” 

“Ste-eeeve Harrington, defender of the realm.” Eddie nodded once, decisively. “I can see it.”

He tucked away the cash, and thus missed how Steve looked weirdly contemplative at that. 

Raised his head and stuck out a hand. 

Tentatively, Steve took it. 

“Welcome to the club, Harrington. We meet on Fridays. Bring snacks.” 

“Cookies okay?”

“Going by Gareth’s judgment, they’re more than okay.”

Eddie smiled and Steve smiled back, and God how he hated how fucking cute Harrington’s face was. 

Particularly since he now got to think of the guy as “Steve” without feeling weird about it. 

As in his possible, potential, friend Steve.

What a fucking trip that was. 

“Oh, and Steve?” He called, the thought hitting him as Steve turned to welcome the group making their way to the beemer.

Steve had let his hand fall, turning to open the front door of the Beemer with a cocked eyebrow.

Eddie flicked a finger out, lightly tapping the Hellfire logo. “Tell Lucas I’ll get him another shirt. That one’s all yours, big boy.” 

If there was a pink hue to Harrington’s cheeks, he was blaming sunburn. 

(Two months, six days, and one meddlesome asshole named Henderson later, and Eddie would find out that Steve had in fact, been blushing.

He’d be furious at Dustin’s involvement, if it hadn’t directly led to Eddie finding out Steve’s blush did in fact go down his chest.

And his happy trail.

And his--

Well.

Men do not kiss and tell. 

Not to fucking freshmen, anyway.) 

THERE IS A GEN CON, "THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED BECAUSE DUSTIN IS A MEDDLESOME SHIT" BONUS BUT it's on A03 cause it was long enough to be its own post and I wasn't gonna add it to this one. You can read it here LINK

[zombiigrll]

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NEGANS DAUGHTER. ⋆｡°✩ carl grimes x reader .ᐟ WORD COUNT .ᐟ ⭑ 2.7K ꩜ .ᐟ SUMMARY ⭑ you prove yourself to your boyfriends father. .ᐟ A/N .ᐟ ⭑ sorry this took a million years to come out </3 i've been WAY to busy T_T i feel like this ended kind of.. confusing/unrealistically... but its fanFICTION. so its whateva!! anyways i hope you guys enjoy :3 (also, if u guys REALLY want a part 3 i'll write one, but i mostly wanted this to be a fic where you can interpret the ending yourself! but i wouldn't be opposed to writing a part 3 it just might take a while as i work on my series :p ) .ᐟ read part 1 here .ᐟ ⭑

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you stayed the night at carls. you didn't mean to, but after a while of talking, and getting to really know each other, the two of you had grown tired. so, you ended up falling asleep in his arms.

but no one knew you were there. not until rick opened the door that morning.

"hey, carl. wake up-" rick spoke before quickly stopping, taking out his gun as he spotted you next to his son.

you quickly put your hands up, stand up and step away from carl as your chest goes up and down as your breaths quickened. carl, of course, quickly woke up to the loud noises.

"what are you doing here? and who are.." rick yells, but stops himself as he examines your features. "wait.. you're negans daughter, aren't you?"

you nodded. "yes, i.." your voice trembled as you looked around.

"dad, stop!" carl quickly intervened as he processed what was going on, stepping in front of you. "she's not like them. she's nice, she's not going to hurt us."

"how do you know?" rick glares at his son. "she's still a savior. we can't trust her."

carl continues to argue back and forth with rick, staying firmly in front of you. "we can't bring her back out there!" he yells back, using his hands to accentuate his words. he's visibly shaking in anger at his fathers words.

rick lets out a deep sigh before continuing. "if that's what you really believe, then fine. but i think we need to keep her locked up and get more information. i don't trust it."

carl scoffs. "are you kidding me?-"

"that's fine." you cut him off before he can continue speaking. "i'll go with you."

rick nods at you and carls eyes widen. "seriously y/n?"

"yes, carl. i don't care." you step forward, up to rick. "i didn't expect him to be fine with me being here. if that's what makes him comfortable, then i'll do it."

carl shakes his head in defeat, following you and rick out the door.

...

you were now officially locked up in alexandria. rick had pulled up two chairs on the opposite side of the dark cell. carl sat in one, arms crossed and obviously quite annoyed, while rick sat properly in the other.

carl had brought your bag with him, and it laid by his feet.

carl's leg moves up and down off the floor anxiously, his face covered in frustration. "this is so stupid, she's obviously not a threat-"

"well then she needs to prove that, doesn't she?" rick retorts, shutting carl up instantly.

you nodded understandingly, sitting against the bars of the cell. "how can i prove it?"

rick silently thinks for a moment, clasping his hands together. "you can start by telling us about your father."

"there's a lot to know about him." you chuckled lightly to yourself, leaning your head against the bars and looking up at the two on the other side. "what exactly do you want to know?"

"his motives. why is he doing this?"

you clenched your hands together, anxiety rushing through your body.

"he's.. trying to make civilization or something." your voice trembled. "he thinks for every crime there needs to be punishment. that's why he killed.. your people." your body language softened as you began taking in everything happening. "..what are you going to do to my dad?"

rick stayed silent, except for a quiet sigh, which basically answered your question.

"your friend daryl should be out of the sanctuary now." you blurted out.

"what?" rick quickly stood up and walked up to the cell, his hand laying on the bars.

"i saw one of my dads wives slip a note under his cell. when i went out to leave and come here, a motorcycle was gone." you explained yourself anxiously. ricks eyes looked deep into yours, a sense of aggression and concern coming from him.

"do you know where he could be headed to?" ricks voice shakes as he speaks to you.

you shake your head. "no, i don't." you feel like your story could be sounding like bullshit, but you were telling the truth. "i'd assume he would be coming here, but he would've been here before me. maybe hilltop? somewhere with your people, probably."

rick pushes off of the cell bars and walks out of the room, pulling his walkie-talkie out as he shuts the door.

you sit with carl in silence for a moment. he looks shaken up, and honestly a bit frustrated.

"..sorry." you lowered your head onto the bars. you didn't know why exactly you were sorry, you just knew you were.

he looked back up at you, his expression changing to confusion. "what? why?"

you hid your face away from him as tears started flooding your eyes. so much was happening, even if it wasn't necessarily your fault. you worried that you made the whole situation worth.

"for everything." your voice cracked as you moved the back of your head against the bars to make sure he didn't see you crying. "my dad, your friends.. it just sucks. i wish i could've done something sooner to stop him."

carl quickly walks up to the cell, sitting down to look at you. "hey.." he leans his back against the bars, looking at you the best he can. "you're not your father. i'm sure everyone can tell that, even my dad."

"i think your dad hates me." you laugh at his comment.

"i'm serious, y/n." he turns the upper-half of his body to face you more.

you stay looking away from him. "i need to go back to the sanctuary."

"why? you're safer here."

"me being here puts you all in danger. if i'm gone any longer, my dad might come here." you stand up and try opening the cell, which rick obviously locked previously.

"my dad has the keys, he's not gonna let you out." carl stands up with you, putting his hands on the other side of the bar.

you felt so angry. but you didn't know exactly where the anger was placed to. you felt so much at once. your heart was racing, and you could just hear static going through your brain. you laid your head against the cell, defeated.

..until you remembered you had a bobby pin in your hair.

of course, with your dad being negan, you knew how to pick locks. you began picking it as carl continued speaking to you, not even noticing what you were doing.

"it'll be fine. i'm sure your dad trusts you enough to let you go out on your own."

you shook your head, continuing to pick the lock. "you don't know my dad. i barely know my dad. by the time i came back after dropping you off, he already had a few people out ready to come get me."

"just stay. for a little while longer. please." carl begged, looking at you before finally realizing what was going on. "what're you doing-"

you cut him off by swinging the cell door open. "it's fine, carl. i'll be back." you grabbed your bag and tried walking out the door, but carl quickly blocked you

"are you kidding me?" he put his arm on the wall, preventing you from getting past.

"carl." you sternly spoke, looking him dead in the eyes. your eyes quickly softened, however, as you brought your hands up to the sides of his face. "i'll be back as soon as i can. i promise. i have to try and make sure me coming over here didn't get you guys into more shit."

carl moves his hand up to your wrist, looking down at you anxiously. but after a moment of hesitation, he nods. "please be safe."

"don't worry about me." your lips turn up into a grin before you lean to kiss him.

he moves his hands down to your waist to pull you closer, leaving one hand on your side and the other on the back of your neck. you could tell by his body language that he didn't want you to go, but you knew you had to. he knew that, too.

you pulled away, despite his protest. your smile turned somber as you looked up at him. "i'll see you soon. i promise."

"wait." he grabs his walkie talkie and hands it to you. "i have another one somewhere. i don't know if this will be in reach with the sanctuary, but please try and call me when you're safe."

you nodded, pulling him in for one last hug. he held you tightly, leaving a kiss on the crown of your forehead before letting go.

"i love you." he smiled warmly at you.

"i love you too, carl."

...

you snuck back out of alexandria and back to where you had left your motorcycle. you rode it as fast as possible, speeding back to the sanctuary.

luckily, you hadn't seen any saviors yet. the roads were clear, except for a few walkers that you simply just sped past. you had to get back to the sanctuary as soon as possible.

and after a while, you finally arrived.

it was similar to how you arrived after dropping carl off. negan was standing by a car with a few saviors that were geared up. they quickly noticed you, and your father didn't seem happy either.

you parked and took your helmet off. negan ran up to you and hugged you tightly.

"where were you?" his voice was stern, but also soft. he was worried.

"i just went out for a bit." you returned his hug, but quickly pushed away. "..can i talk to you, dad?"

negan looks at you confused before nodding. "okay."

he signals that the saviors can come back inside before continuing to follow you to one of the old conference rooms.

you sat down at the end of the tables, and negan sat down on the other so he could look at you.

"so, what's up?" he smiles warmly at you, which you anxiously return.

you messed with your nailbeds nervously. you knew how he would react, but you had to ask. "i can't live like this anymore."

that was the only thing that you could spit out. probably the worst way you could've worded it, but you could tell it got your point across the way negans face dropped.

"what?" was all negan could spit out from that sentence.

you stood up and began pacing around as you spoke. it was the only thing that could even slightly calm your nerves. "the way that you run things. i know i'm your child and i've grown up around this, but i know right from wrong. i'm sure you do, too."

his eyebrows furrowed as he clasped his hands together, placing them on the table. "go on."

"i know why you do it. you've told me a million times. but i can't stand it anymore, dad." you stopped pacing, looking him straight in the eye. "i can't watch you kill people like that. not again."

"then i wont take you again, easy as that-"

"no, dad." you quickly cut him off, your voice raising slightly as you become more infuriated. "i can't let you kill people like that either."

negan simply huffs in response, standing up and walking over to you. "this is how we live now. how do you suppose you'll stop it?"

you stay silent for a moment, just thinking. he puts a hand on his shoulder and goes to speak, but you stop him.

"i'll leave."

his face drops. he moves his hand off of your shoulder and presses his lips together. you've never seen him look so distraught before, at least with you.

"you'll never see me again."

"where would you go?" negan finally speaks, his expression glum and his voice firm.

"anywhere but here. i'd go far away just to get away from here." tears started forming in your eyes as you tried to keep your composure. "maybe you'll find me. maybe you'll kill me, i don't care. because i'll be away from this."

"this is how we live-"

"this is not living!" you yell, tears finally falling down your cheeks.

when he didn't respond, you grabbed your bag and walked towards the door. but, he grabbed your wrist. "hey-"

"don't leave." negans voice remained firm, but you could tell he was upset. "what can i do for you to accept that this is just the way things are?"

you give him a look that screams 'are you stupid?' before you continue speaking. "nothing. because i wont accept it." you move his hand away from your wrist. "i love you, dad. but i can't keep living with the fact that we're just.. murdering people."

negan looks at you blankly and you take it as your opportunity to exit. except before you could close the door behind you, something stopped it.

negans foot.

"what?" you turned around to look at him.

"fine." he breathily says, wiping his eyes quickly. "i'll.. i'll figure it out."

you smiled at him, letting your tears fall as you hugged him tightly. even if it seemed like it to him in the moment, you didn't want to leave him. he was your father, not many people had that luxury of still having a parent alive nowadays. but it's the only way you thought that he would listen to you, and he did.

he hugged you back. "i'm not losing you, too."

...

you didn't know what your dad was going to do now. hell, he didn't even know what he was going to do now. but, you knew that you needed to call carl. you walked back over to your room and locked the door, pulling the walkie-talkie out as fast as possible and calling.

"hello? this is y/n. is carl there?" you asked, but just got static as an answer.

'maybe i need to get a bit closer.'

you walked back outside of your room, and negan was standing right outside. you put your hands behind your back quickly, hiding the walkie-talkie.

"hey, dad."

he smiled, hugging you with one of his arms. "are you heading out again?"

"..yeah." you nodded nervously. "not too far. i just need some air."

"alright. try and be back by dinner, alright?" negan smiled at you. you nodded back and him, putting the walkie-talkie in your pocket as you walked back towards your motorcycle.

you rode out a bit, towards the area you'd usually roam to when you needed space. as you rode, you occasionally turned the radio on to check if you were in range.

as you approached your hangout area, you set your motorcycle down and turned your radio on.

"hellooo.. this is y/n, i'm calling for carl." you repeated for the thousandth time.

there was static, but just before you turned it off again, you heard his voice.

"y/n!"

"carl?" you exclaimed happily.

"holy shit, are you okay?" carl asked through the radio, his voice seemingly laced with concern, but he also seemed happy to hear your voice.

"yes, i'm okay." you nodded, your smile not leaving your face. "i told my dad that.. i'd leave if he didn't stop. he's gonna try and figure something out."

"that might not go over that easy with my dad, y'know?"

"i know. but i won't let him kill anyone else. all i ask if that you don't let your dad kill mine." you lightly chuckle, which he returns.

carl stays silent for a moment. "could you come back over here?"

"i can try. why? what's up?"

"i'd feel better knowing you're here with me while all of this goes on." his voice is a bit more quiet over the radio, but loud enough where you could still hear it.

"of course." you started getting back onto your motorcycle as you spoke to him. "i'll always be there when you need me."

you could hear him laugh on the other side. "thank you. i'll see you soon then?"

"yep. love you!" you happily replied.

"love you, too, y/n."

you rode off back towards alexandria. this time, instead of feeling so anxious and stressed, you felt happy.

you didn't know what was going to happen after you arrived at alexandria. how rick would react, the other alexandrians, the people effected by your fathers actions.. but you did know that you'd figure out how to make it right.

─────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────────────────

[meanbossart]

Ask compilation: DU drow, Orin, Astarion, lore things and little fun facts.

Trying to make a dent in this dang inbox. As always, thank you so much everyone for your patience and curiosity! Sorry that it is straight up no longer possible for me to reply to everyone, but I will keep doing my best within reason. Enjoy!

Absolutely! I had a lot of requests for bottom Astarion on my patreon which is why I was kind of on a roll there for a minute.

Though, for the record - I am really not very invested in strict bedroom roles at all. Or clear and distinct dominant/submissive dynamics. So please don't overthink it whenever there's a switch, no pun intended.

You wanna know how often they smash? Man, I don't know, I guess fairly often considering their lifestyle post-game (very active, often on the road).

Assuming that everyone agrees that sex doesn't have to involve penetration, I'd say once every other day or less, really depends on the circumstances though. DU drow's libido is much higher than Astarion's, but he's not an animal and can hold off fine. Astarion is likely to be pickier in regards to location and how-recently-have-we-bathed status as well.

I keep meaning to draw him, but I have like... A million things I want to do 😂 so its rough!

BUT you will at least continue to see him in ANE! And I'm sure i'm bound to draw him again in the future.

[MORE UNDER THE CUT]

If you mean in his bhaalist "AU", where he has the red robe and the extra scars, I imagine he would have gotten it through killing Isobel.

I think as a changeling she probably has the ability to just... Transform her hair however she likes at will, right? And based on her attitude plus some lines we get from Sceleritas about her own former-butler, it sounds like she would be really opposed to being serviced in that way, to me at least.

I see her as pretty aggressively independent with the way she operates, which is another factor that sets her apart from DU drow, who really enjoyed lording over the other Bhaalists and making an errand boy out of Sceleritas, to the point where he practically depended on their help to function.

Neither! I wasn't willing to let anyone take either of my eyes in my first playthrough, LOL.

I have since always given the Volo eye to SOMEONE, usually Gale, but I don't consider that canonical. I don't think anyone was desperate enough to let mister frumpy-hat over there ice-pick their eyes out.

He did do them himself. It was a profoundly stupid display he got caught up in because of Gortash. Also, de-handment is kind of a theme in his life, at least inside his head.

I have a comic about it planned for the future ;)

What do you mean, that's canonical to the game and everything! He loves the cuck chair!

He is an angsty 29-year old in denial. Your interpretation is still perfectly accurate.

Hates the guy. Hates when Shadowheart Astarion people joke about him being the Drizzt of his generation. Hates the guy like literally any countercultural weirdo hates Taylor Swift or the Weeknd. If he saw him at the line in the grocery store DU drow would find a way to roll his eyes loudly just so he could notice being an asshole.

Stay tuned, I'm cooking 🧑‍🍳

If you're asking about game strats, badly, LOL. Pretty sure I died twice to her in my first run and it was a rough way of being thrown into "serious" DnD combat.

With the exception of a couple of encounters that just so happened to turn out SURPRISINGLY cinematic, I'm just realizing that I actually don't think too often about how most of the fights went in real-time! I imagine Autie Ethel's in particular wasn't one that DU drow went into of his own accord, probably rather at a companion's insistence. That's as deep as I've thought about that personally.

Now... Back to game strats. I personally try to get a surprise round on her however I can by sneaking and shooting an arrow or AOE in her general location, since she always stands on roughly the same spot while invisible. I have my companions spread about the arena so we can take her clones down as fast as possible, and as soon as I identify who the real Ethel is I just have the strongest martial characters wail on her until she begs to be let go. Hers is one of the few fights that is actually pretty dang easy at this point for me - and I SUCK at this game.

That would certainly take a while! But, Bhaalist DU drow does kind of have an end goal, actually.

That might also turn into a comic eventually, but it would a rough one.

He pretty swiftly disposed of her, DU drow doesn't like being talked down to, which Minthara very promptly does. Him (and I, by extension) had very limited exposure to her and she was just kind of a speck of dust in his story in particular. Though I have since grown to adore her character in my proceeding runs where I do recruit her!

I guess if he got an invitation and it wasn't particularly painful to arrive at the venue, sure! He would specially love to take Astarion to Gale's wedding ceremony and purposely upstage him at every at every opportunity, LOL.

Yes. He got pretty freaky with the pain-priest. This is gonna sound like a lie but I made him get naked for it without even knowing there was a buff to be gained (I didn't get it, unfortunately, I don't remember whether I failed a check or if I had camp clothes toggled on, so it didn't count as being truly nude). I wasn't taking the game very seriously and just doing dumb roleplay things to see what would happen, LOL.

And I consider that canonical. I think DU drow saw the opportunity to show off his physique And had a strange inkling that this was a practice he was... Somehow familiar with.

Imagine my joy when Astarion and Shadowheart start having a back-and-forth about my absurd display. That's when i knew those were my people, to be honest.

[eightyonekilograms]

Obviously, JD Vance's proposal to give parents additional votes stirred up a furor from progressives saying it's anti-feminist, reactionary, trying to keep women in the kitcen, etc.

And I agree with them. Frankly I wouldn't shed a single tear if Trump "who will rid me of this meddlesome running mate"-d a second VP in a row and I never had to hear from Vance or his 2010!NRx ideas ever again. But I have a more prosaic objection also: if implemented, I don't think this plan would actually work?

Like, as I understand it, there are two proposed justifications for how this might be a good idea, but I don't think either of them stand up to scrutiny.

The first (and less plausible) one is, people who selfishly want more votes will have more children in order to get more political leverage for [whatever they want]. Even though they're doing it for selfish reasons, children are a public good, and so on net this is good for society.

I think this theory can be dispensed with pretty easily. It sounds just like one of those $1000 payments for having another child that budges the birth rate not at all because it's way too small a reward for the expense involved. Even speaking as someone intensely annoyed by trendy anti-electoralist cynicism, I know the EV of an additional vote is microscopic compared to the expense of having children. It won't move anyone except at the very bleeding edge of the margin.

But that's the easy case. The much more interesting theory of the Vance Plan is that of fixing broken incentives. The story goes like this: one feature of democracy, for better or worse, is that it rewards those who show up. If you have no vote (or don't use your vote), you are invisible to democracy, so your wants will be systematically underrepresented. This is why wealthy first-world countries are increasingly gerontocratic in both legislative makeup and resulting policy: old people reliably vote, young people don't, so even with no conspiracy involved, democracy gravitates to favoring the wants of the old. Vance says, hey, children cannot vote, so just as you'd predict, their interests (as a class!) get ignored, so we end up with a legislative landscape that doesn't favor children and makes it harder to raise them.

It makes perfect sense on paper! But I think in the real world it falls apart.

What are the actual bits of legislation and policy which discourage people from having more children? I mean, people can and do argue furiously over this question, but IMO three of the most significant ones are:

NIMBY localist housing policy locking young potential parents out of the housing market

More localist tax and education policy making competition for "good schools" a Red Queen Race which drives up house prices still further, requiring two working parents

Safetyist legislation which, while well-intentioned, is making everything from cars to child care more expensive than it necessarily needs to be

In order to believe that giving parents additional votes will cause a more child-friendly society to emerge via electoral pressure, you have to believe that parents are more likely than non-parents to oppose 1, 2 and 3. And that just... doesn't seem true? At best there's no difference, and to be blunt, I think as a class parents tend to be worse than non-parents on all three. #NotAllParents, of course, there are plenty of people with kids who still want good abundance policy, but averaged over everybody I think it's hard to deny that parenthood tends to push people toward defensive, loss-averting "protect the children" mentalities which, on a global scale, fuck everyone else over. That talking point you constantly see among the Very Online Right that parents are more likely than non-parents to think Beyond Themselves and want to build a stable world for the long term, just seems obviously false to me. Or at least if it is true, it's true in a way which is mostly irrelevant, since these "long-view parents" don't know how to turn those wants into policy which actually achieves them.

Frankly, I think it's easy to envision a world where the Vance Plan makes all policy around child-rearing worse instead of better, and depresses the birth rate even further.

[theoutcastrogue]

[I swear I'm not biased. Also, skip this post if your criteria for a good story include happy and just endings.]

What made Arcane S1 a masterpiece was the Tragedy, and Vi's central place in it. She doesn't interact much with the magic plot, but she's right in the middle of both the sociological storytelling and several individual character arcs, and they're all pulling her apart. And that's what makes it all so compelling.

Vi accidentally or unwillingly becomes the catalyst for the collisions of Piltover vs Zaun, Vander vs Silco, and Powder vs Jinx. And she's torn between Vander's pacifism/defeatism and Zaun's rebelliousness, her hostility to Enforcers and her growing affection for Caitlyn, her hate for Silco and her love for Powder*, avenging the dead and protecting the living**, Caitlyn's vision of charity from above and Ekko's accomplishment of autonomy from below, saving Caitlyn and saving Powder (both from Jinx!), love and loyalty, guilt and revenge, topside and undercity.

There's a maelstrom of opposing forces and ideas, and all Vi wants to do is stand in front of her people and take the hit for them, raising her fists and blocking with her face like she always does. But who ARE her people, even? She's in the centre and she cannot hold: she's getting drawn and quartered by the actual themes of the story.

Like a true Tragic Hero™ (i.e. protagonist, heroism is irrelevant), she always chooses wrong. Not necessarily in the moral sense (though sometimes that too), but through a combination of tragic irony™ (when the character is unaware of a crucial piece of information) and coincidence: whatever she ends up doing, tragedy ensues. And it makes for a great story! Tragedy is a FANTASTIC medium if you do it right! And Season 1 did it perfectly.

But more to the point, it isn't about fatal character traits or random coincidences, it embodies all the social conflicts laid out in the story. All around Vi, the sociological storytelling converges with the psychological, and they both say the exact same thing: apply pressure to a society long enough, and the walls WILL come tumbling down. So the result is classic tragedy: any different choice could have prevented it, and yet it was inevitable. But the angle is specific: it's not the gods who are cruel and fickle. It's not our nature that's inescapable. It's not Fate that's implacable. It's History.

Season 2 didn't stand a chance in hell to be worthy of Season 1, unless League lore and all promotional goals were aggressively ignored. About half of it was worthy, I think, continuing seamlessly the earlier themes. But then the sociological storytelling was dropped from the forefront and eventually from view, Vi lost both her central place in the story and her internal conflict, and got a corny happy ending, there was SO MUCH flinching, and even the tragedy of Jinx's self-sacrifice was taken back (wink wink, she's alive).

I have many issues with Season 2 (and a lot of praise: parts of it were excellent, and the animation remained incredible throughout), but the main reasons it can't possibly compare to Season 1 is that in the end there wasn't enough Vi, and there wasn't enough tragedy.

Respectful hat tip to Ekko for filling in.

* Vi actually prioritises "bringing his bullshit empire down" over saving her sister from Silco, and voluntarily offers the name "Jinx" to the Council just to convince them to attack him.

** applies both to teen Vi choosing to surrender to the Enforcers, so that the Lanes won't fight and no one will get hurt (except her), and adult Vi putting her vendetta against Silco above everything: she gets Jayce to bring armed enforcers and Hextech weapons down to the undercity, and stands over the entirely predictable outcome of a dead child. Some of this obsession is fueled by hate for what Silco did to Vander and her siblings, but I think most of it is reflected guilt for what SHE did to Powder, which would never have happened if it weren't for Silco.

[enullarts]

The dawn of a whole new world

Wrote a trans!m!byleth x Cl/aude from f/e/3/h birth fic bc i thought about them for too long and developed emotions again

cw// tmpreg, descriptions of birth, mostly neutral wording, Byleth is the one who got pregnant

"I love you. With everything I am. And the next time we see each other... it will be at the dawn of a whole new world. A peaceful, happy world."

If Byleth had known how serious Claude was about this he would have held onto him longer, kissed him harder, done everything within his power to memorise his beloved Golden Deer's features, smell, taste. But it was not meant to be, time did not stop for anyone and there was a religion to build back up in Fódlan and a war to quell in Almyra. He also understood this, and the sooner he and Claude began this journey, the sooner they would be reunited.

And it wasn't like they never saw each other, the international relations meetings between the nations still occured regularly, except for the fact that they were now on opposing sides, trying to come to a mutually beneficial arrangement for both countries. Byleth lived for those weeks where either he would come on a peacekeeping mission to Almyra or Claude, now going by his true name Khalid, would visit his old Fódlan home. Quick stolen glances, kisses on the hand, nightly sneak outs as they tore into each other like animals starving.

They managed to keep their relationship downlow for a while. That is, until one day, Byleth felt a flutter in his lower abdomen which had slowly been growing over the course of the months. At first, he had thought he was just becoming a bit plump from regular hearty meals around the monastry. But a quick visit to the healer quickly dispelled any guesses on what it was. He was pregnant.

A pang of fear sank into his heart, he had no idea when he would next see Claude, sometimes he would not see him for years. Sending a private message that could be intercepted some way would spell chaos for the fragile relations the countries were embroiled in as it was. They were not wed, the baby, although desired and loved, would be deemed a bastard and a liability for Claude's claim to the throne. No, he had to keep it a secret.

He swore the healer to secrecy and informed only his closest advisors within the monastry. His robes would cover his changing form well enough and in the last few months he would temporarily withdraw from public view with the excuse of needing it for internal affairs. (Not technically a lie).

Time went on and his belly only grew, his back ached from all the standing and moving he had to do, he was by no means fragile, but the extra weight, the nausea, the anxiety, sometimes it would all become too much and he would take ill, needing Seteth or Rhea to take over while he rested. Despite his illness he loved the days he could lie in bed and feel his and Claude's baby. He spoke quietly to them, hoping the baby could hear his voice and know how much his other papa loved them even though he didn't know when their child would get to meet him.

Finally, his belly grew big enough it was no longer able to be concealed, and he took to solitude, remaining in his room and only seeing selected people who knew about his condition and the child's father. Marianne came by often when she wasn't busy with Hilda and they would sit and read books together.

--

The sun had just risen when Byleth awoke to a painful cramp in his abdomen making him grunt and curl in on himself, both hands encircling his now full term belly which was rock hard and clenching angrily. He breathed deeply, gently rubbing circles around his sides as he smiled down, tracing a stretchmark. "Hello, love... are you practicing again?"

He waited a moment and soon his belly relaxed once again, allowing him to sit up slowly, one hand continuously on his lower abdomen, supporting his lower belly. He had noticed it had dropped significantly in the last few days and the contractions had gone from every few days to every day now, they were beginning to hurt for longer too. Not to mention all that weight in between his hips. Some days he felt so full and low he thought the baby was about to fall out of him. But he had reached full term now, and a few days really. And still no sign of the baby arriving.

He had a feeling today would be different though.

He dressed himself lightly, it was a light summer morning, the heat of the day had not yet taken hold and a cool breeze blew in from his opened window.

Byleth closed his eyes and breathed deeply, letting himself calm and take in the day. His mind wandered back to the night more than nine months ago now that had apparently conceived this miracle child. Whispers of "I love you" and desperate and quick touches, they only had a few hours of privacy before Claude would be off again. Definitely not as romantic as the both of them would have liked.A cloud blocked the sun for a moment and a chill ran down Byleth's spine now, a flash of fear entering during this moment of vulnerability.

Due to Byleth's creation he had doubted he could bear children, or that he would become sick like his mother when the time came to bear the child. But he felt good today, calm.. he could only pray this was a good sign. He wanted this baby more than anything, and he wanted to live to see them grow and meet their father.

--

"Oh!" Byleth gasped, clutching his abdomen as he dropped the book he had been reading in his private library with Marianne. It was midday and the pains were definitely worse now, coming regularly. The lady quickly hurrying over to help her former teacher stay standing.

"Is it the baby, Byleth?" Marianne asked quietly and rubbed his back as he softly panted through the latest pain.

He could only nod, an emotion of grief welling up inside him. Was Claude going to miss the birth of their child? He had been adamant about keeping it from him to not interfer with his work, but now that the time had come for the baby to arrive- that he was going to give birth without Claude with him, that he wouldn't be the first to hold their baby? Oh.. it hurt.

"Byleth... you're crying..." Marianne's voice drew him back as she made him sit and produced a little hankerchief to gently pat away his tears. Her eyes gentle with concern. "Does it hurt a lot? Is there anything I can do?"

Byleth dried his eyes further with the meat of his palm. "Help me to my room... We should prepare."

--

It was well into the night until Byleth's labor had progressed into the active phase, he had stripped into wearing just a night gown and had shed his undergarments as his water kept leaking slowly over the stone tile floor as he waddled around, clinging to the bedposts or walls when he needed to breathe through a contraction. He didn't allow anyone near him, no one to touch him. Every touch just reminded him of the fact that the person he wanted the most wasn't here. Didn't even know he had to be here.

"Ohh... nghhh..... a-ahh..." Byleth huffed through his latest contraction, sinking into a squat by the end if the bed. "Ch...check.." he ordered softly and allowed a healer to come over and he spread his legs.

"8 centimetres, your grace... Nearly ready for pushing.." Byleth sobbed, his knees buckling so he now sat on the ground, arms supporting him against the bed. He was exhausted, having born the labor so long now. "Help me.."

More healers came over now to help him onto the bed, they wiped his forehead, neck and face down with a cool cloth and massaged his angry contracting midsection in an attempt to help him open up more. Byleth's face was grief stricken, all the hands on him nauseating. They were not who he wanted.

--

"A-Ah..!! A-Aah!!" Byleth moaned loudly, his back arching forward and hands gripping the back of the headboard as his belly clenched tight once again, barely any time for rest between pains now.

This time, the pain came with a new signal. Push!! It said and Byleth gave in easily, beginning to feel the baby finally move lower within him. His breath came quick and shallow as he adjusted to the new feeling of the baby moving and wiggling itself downwards while he pushed. He sobbed again, head lolling to the side as he rested, his hands coming to hug his abdomen.

"G-get out..." He trembled as the healers once again tried to assist."But, your grace! You're about to give birth, we need to-"

"Get out!!" Byleth cried again, curling in on himself and away from them. "Guards!"

"Byleth!" Marianne whimpered as the guards entered in a panic. "Wait!"

"Get them out!" Byleth ordered, tears escaping his eyes now as he grit his teeth and felt the next pain beginning to build. He needed to be alone, he could not stand the idea of these people seeing their baby before Claude could.

"Now!!"

As the healers and Marianne were ushered out Byleth got himself onto his hands and knees and cried out as his body bore down instinctively. His entire body shook with the effort, all his calm overtaken by this desperate need to birth this baby yet also his heart screamed out for his love, that somehow, somehow he knew the pain Byleth was in, what was happening right now, and he was on his way to his side.

But there was simply no way... Claude was in Almyra, a month's trip away at least.. He would have to do this alone.

--

Time passed in a blur, Byleth's pushing alternating between him sobbing from pain and effectively bringing the baby closer.

Another hour went by and only a sliver of the baby's head was visible between the man's lips. Byleth kept his hand there as an anchor to keep himself focused. His sheets were drenched in blood and sweat from all his moving and pushing.

He was anxious, feverish and feeling delirious from pain, his breathing still shallow despite trying to calm himself, he was thinking about his mother. She died to give birth to him, what if... what if he...No.. he couldn't think that way. He was going to see his baby and raise them properly until Claude could see him too.

"Khalid..." he murmured as he tensed for another push, his head falling back against the mattess, eyes squeezed shut as his body squeezed against the burden within. "Khalid....!"

A soft breeze of cool air flittered through the open window, followed by a thump of something heavy dropping onto the ground. Byleth's eyes flung open anxiously, if they were being attacked he would have no way to defend himself in his current state. But instead his eyes met those warm green ones he had come to know so well. Before he could even utter the name he was at his side, pulling him into a warm embrace.

"I'm here, Byleth..." Claude murmured, his lips pressed to the top of Byleth's head, inhaling his scent as he held his lover tightly.

"Khalid..." Byleth sobbed, his hands beginning to cling to the other man, desperate for support as his body clenched harder and more of the baby appeared between his legs even without his efforts. "I-it's coming.. Oh, Gods, its coming out. It hurts."

Claude pulled Byleth close, keeping him as upright as possible while the man pushed and pulled his legs back as much as possible to give room to the emerging baby. "You've done so well Byleth... I'm so sorry, I came as fast as I could..."

"How?" Byleth managed after releasing the push and relaxing against Claude's chest, nuzzling into him for comfort, his scent comforting.

"Lysithea... She performed a portal spell at Marianne's insistence... I understand why you kept it from me By.. but Gods... I should have been here.." Claude's voice shook with pain and concern that Byleth had been in pain for so long all alone. "Where are the others?"

"I sent them away..." Byleth mumbled. "I couldn't bear the thought the baby would be held by anyone but you..." A tired sob ripped from his throat as he felt another contraction build yet again. " I'm so tired Claude... Oh Gods, help me..!!"

He wailed as another contraction built up, stronger and stronger until he was pushing even without conscious effort yet again, the baby's once again making progress, little by little. Inch by painful inch. Even with Claude there comforting him it felt torturous. He thought of his mother again, had she endured this agony for him too?

"a-ahh... mhhh ohhh..." His breaths became sharp and pointed, the widest point of the head finally beginning to crown just as the contraction let up again and the baby receded just slightly. "N-no, please, ah.. ah please..!"

His head turned towards Claude's, catching his lips desperately. The other moaned into it with surprise.

"Please.." Byleth panted anxiously, his hips rolling gently. "I need you..."

Claude didn't need to think twice after hearing that, his mouth caught Byleth's in a firm and deep kiss, his hands wandering down his lover's body, refamiliarizing himself with it. He cupped one of Byleth's supple and plush breasts and gave it a gentle squeeze, earning a soft moan from the other. He noted some milk began to pearl out of it as well; gingerly he used the tip of his finger to catch the drops and licked it, it tasted somewhat salty.

Continuing his groping downward, a quick slide over Byleth's taut frame, over stretchmarks and new love handles, he took the time to admire how full and different Byleth had become since he last saw him.

Byleth's pants and moans as he still struggled to push the child into crowning went on but Claude was almost enraptured by the sight of that belly, clenching with strength down, bringing the baby closer.

Finally he reached down, gently over Byleth's thigh, inner thigh, and then...

"Oh Byleth... you're doing it, love... they're right there ..." His hand cupped the full crown of the head now as he peppered Byleth's face and neck with kisses. The other having dropped his head down against Claude's shoulder, eyes closed and mouth open and panting as he strained to keep the baby's head out. This time the crown stayed.

Claude moved his hand upwards, finding that sensitive little nub and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"Oh!" Byleth gasped, his hips bucking towards Claude's hand then relaxing more, nuzzling into the crook of Claude's neck as Claude's hands began to stroke the nub gently. "... y-yes... Oh..."

Claude continued his gentle strokings, letting Byleth adjust and lean into the pleasure between the pain of the stretch. He tried to time the heavier stroking with the contractions, building more and more momentum until finally Byleth spasmed, mouth open in a silent O as he came and the baby's head slipped free.

"That's it! The head's out, Byleth! Gods you're beautiful..."The baby's head was full of little brown curls, and Claude brought Byleth's hand to the head and watched as his love felt around, laughing softly.

"Hello my little love..." Byleth whispered before turning to Claude with a smile. "They... they look like you.""Well, I suppose that's okay. I just hope they'll be more like you in personality" Claude laughed, kissing Byleth's forehead. "One more push, babe.."

A final tense moment and then another shudder as the rest of the body slid out and the baby began to wail as Byleth brought them up to his chest, tears falling from his eyes as he regarded the squaling bloody little baby. He was smiling from ear to ear.Claude's hand joined Byleth's on the baby's back, he kissed Byleth's temple and then used his shoulder to wipe some tears from his eyes. "Oh my gods, Byleth... you did it..."

--

By the time the healers were let in again, Claude had gone, but on Byleth's finger, a green ring with a flower motif decorating around it. A promise for a wedding not too far from now.

[ozzgin]

Can I request a yandere Katsumi who has the hots for his first and only female student?

It feels a little bit like presenting a dish before Gordon Ramsay on Hell’s Kitchen or something, but as you wish ma’am. Let us hope I don’t make a donkey out of myself.

Yandere! Katsumi Orochi x Student! Reader

Featuring the karate prodigy and a female reader that’s impressed him beyond just fighting skills.

[Baki Masterlist]

It’s not a given for everyone, but some people just seem to be gifted for a particular vocation, inclined towards a certain calling. While Katsumi is widely envied for his quick learning and masterful karate prowess, the one place where he shines most, where his skill is unequivocally unmatched, is in the dojo. Specifically before students. One can easily tell him apart, even among names of greater authority such as Doppo Orochi. Pupils naturally flock to him, you included.

Your case, however, is a little bit of an exception. Out of random circumstance you happen to be the only female student at the Shinshinkai Dojo. Truth be told, Katsumi had opposed your membership at first. He takes pride in his neutral approach and equal treatment when it comes to his pupils. So when the men started to whisper, snicker and whistle secretly behind your back, he could only grit his teeth in shame and frustration. He would’ve liked to scold them, tell them that this is a sacred place dedicated only to martial arts and other temptations are to be kept strictly out. But he, too, found you attractive. He would’ve been lying to everyone, including himself. Hereby the conflict: accepting you as a student would’ve been tainted by impure thoughts, but denying to train you would’ve stripped him of his dignity as a teacher. He promised to fix his inappropriate attitude instead; after all, discipline is part of the art.

All that being said, he doesn’t regret his decision. You’re awfully talented and often remind him of his own karate journey. You only need the slightest push in order to grasp most techniques and you’ve gone above and beyond his expectations in conquering the basics. The veiled, flirty glances from the other fighters have been replaced by somber, respectful nods as your reputation continues to increase with each rank. Katsumi would go as far as calling you a true prodigy. Admiration aside, only one small issue remains: not only has his initial crush remained with stubborn vehemence, but it appears to have turned into full blown, sickening infatuation. To put it mildly, he’s obsessed.

Is he really to blame here? It’s as if everything about you has been carefully chiseled to his liking. “Then the Lord God made a woman from the rib he had taken out of the man, and he brought her to the man. The man said, ‘This is now bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh; she shall be called ‘woman’, for she was taken out of man.’” You are the Eve to his Adam, a genesis of love that was fated to return to him. There is no other explanation. Indeed, the more he tries to rationalize it, the clearer his purpose becomes. Out of all the places, the timelines, the people, the fact that against all millions of variables your encounter settled on him…His desire is not to be disciplined. Not anymore. One has to acknowledge the ridiculousness of battling destiny itself.

Then he shall no longer tamper with matters that are predestined. In fact, he might just lend fate a helping hand. His patience is reserved for teaching, not romantic affairs. He needs an opportunity to have you alone without interruptions, and conveniently enough you’ve asked him to stay behind today. You can barely conceal your cheeky smile as you slide the canvas door open. As promised, Katsumi is standing near the wall, hands folded behind his back. You can feel your heart pounding, but you muster up the courage to approach him. You’ve been training hard and he’s had nothing but praise for you. A nervous blush tints your face as you bat your eyelashes, calculating your next words. Katsumi’s eyes narrow in adoration. It’s alright, he knows. “How may I help you, (Y/N)?” He nudges you expectantly. “I’ve been wondering about it…I was afraid of your response, but I need to let it out nonetheless. I think I’m ready for the next step.” Oh God, here it comes. He can barely contain himself. Just say the words, and he’ll take you right here and now. “I know it hasn’t been that long, but I really think I’m ready for the upcoming competition. Is there truly no way for me to sign up, even with my current belt?”

Huh. His mouth hangs open for longer than he would’ve preferred. Is this…is this why you’ve called him here? He looks around the room, as if expecting some cameramen to pop out and announce it was all a prank and (Y/N) actually meant to confess her unwavering attraction to him. Your smile slowly fades seeing his increasingly frantic expression. He grunts. “I’m sorry, if you think I’m not ready yet I can-“ He lifts a hand to your face and firmly grabs your jaw. Shut up, please. He walks over to the door, pulling you after him, and hastily checks the hallway for people. It’s empty. With the other free hand he slams the door shut. The dojo will remain closed until morning at least. Plenty of time to set you straight. It’s fine, he’s calm. Oh, you silly, sweet darling (Y/N). He loves this innocent obliviousness of yours. There are other important matters at hand. You try to remove his fingers from your face, but Katsumi’s arm is tense and stiff, refusing to budge. You’re suddenly very cold. His gaze is different and it scares you. You don’t recognize the possessed, hollow eyes that pierce into you. But here’s where you’re mistaken, they’re not hollow at all. On the contrary, they’re overflowing with adoration and worship. You just haven’t realized it yet.

[hyperlexichypatia]

How was it “always allowed” if you people’s goal is for there to be no more therapists? That makes no sense. Your whole deal makes no sense and is fucking scary to me. And I’m a leftist but everything you stand for is TOO MUCH. “Anti recovery” this and “substance abuse should be allowed actually” that. I’m broken and I want to be fixed. No amount of “community” from inexperienced everypeople is gonna fix that. You know who CAN fix that? A fucking doctor. Some fucking pills. My mind is a prison and I’m gonna get out of it the normal way thank you very much. Yes, the normal way should be free and come from people with real compassion who aren’t abusive. No, people should NOT be encouraged to just wallow in their symptoms as if it’s normal and just who they are. I hope you all get better in every sense of the word…

Who exactly do you think is stopping you from getting the medicine you believe will improve your quality of life?

Really, who?

Do you think it's psych abolitionists? No, we're the ones trying to break down the gatekeepers and barriers that are keeping you from accessing the drugs you choose. The ones you sneer at for saying "substance abuse should be allowed actually."

Psychiatric authority backed by government power: "People should be required to take the drugs we believe they need, but if they take drugs we don't believe they really need, that should be banned." Cognitive liberty advocates/psych abolitionists: "That's an incredibly oppressive policy. What drugs an individual chooses to take or not take should be xyr own choice, neither mandated nor prohibited by state power." You, gatekept by medication you want under the system you support: "Why would psych abolitionists do this to me?"

I know, I know. But it's not substance abuse! You want those pills for LEGITIMATE MEDICAL reasons, not like those OTHER people who want medications for ILLEGITIMATE reasons and are RUINING IT FOR EVERYONE -- Yeah. It doesn't matter. If you don't have a Permission Slip for a medicine, you can't get it. If you do have a Permission Slip, you can. If you have an Order Slip, you have to. "Legitimate medical reason" just means "with permission," while "substance abuse" just means "without permission."

I know, I know. "How dare you equate my desire for Legitimate Medical Medication with that Substance Abuser who just wants to get high! That's so offensive!" -- I'm not the one equating y'all. The government is. Medical authority is. Psychiatry is. Both you and party animal guy who wants to get high for "no medical reason" are people who face barriers, gatekeeping, and criminalization to accessing substances you want to access. Now, are you going to keep looking down on that partying, high-getting, "substance abuser" in order to lick the boot of the authorities denying bodily autonomy to you both? Or are you going to grow some class solidarity and oppose your actual enemy, the medical gatekeeping system?

As for "there to be no more therapists," actually the more common goal is for there to be no more therapists in power. Abolishing psychiatry wouldn't necessarily mean that in the post-psychiatry society there would be none of what are currently called "therapists," any more than religious freedom necessarily means that there are no clerics. They would just have no power. They would have no authority, except what an individual chooses to cede to them on a voluntary, individual, revocable, case-by-case basis.

If you assume that, without legal, cultural, economic, or medical authority pressuring or coercing people to defer to therapists, no one would do so... well, that's not an assumption that makes therapists sound very good, is it?

[heliads]

IMAGINE

mordern au!newt whos readers classmate and hes like a nerd etc and reader just fell for him because of how cute he is and like they sit next to eachother in some class and reader keeps catching newt whos staring at them and its because he wants to ask them out ? HEBFISNIDNFI i hope this makes sense and i hope you have an amazing day🥰

happy birthday anon!!!!!

masterlist

There is a boy in the corner of this room, and he is– he is looking at you. Yes, you’re sure of it now, even though he glanced away as soon as your eyes met. He wasn’t expecting you to notice, which is silly, because you’ve noticed almost everything about Newt since the moment he first showed up in one of your classes. 

The only thing you haven’t noticed about him is all the times you haven’t caught him staring, and how he smiles when he knows you won’t be able to question him for it. Similarly, when Newt hastily turns his head and pretends that he’s been studying the board at the front of the classroom this whole time, he misses how long your eyes linger on him instead. Almost as long as his, maybe. Shame that neither of you will do a thing about it.

You don’t think you’re staring for the same reasons, though. You only look at Newt because he’s already looking at you. Newt must have a different motive for getting distracted by you so often, but he’s not likely to breathe a word of it to you. Until that impossible day, though, when Newt finally manages to get over himself and finally confesses something, you’ll keep looking back at him, wondering what all of this is about, and never, ever knowing.

You can’t hold too much of a grudge against him for looking away, nor for rushing out of the classroom without a word more than hello or goodbye or the occasional sorry when he brushes against you in the hallway. That’s not personal, that’s just how Newt is with everybody.

Newt’s quiet, you know. Doesn’t talk to a whole lot of people if he can help it. Most of the time, he’s perfectly content to sit by himself or walk alone to class, not needing anyone around him. He brushes off eye contact like dust from a faded photograph, not straying to orbit around the popular circles like everyone else in this school. The only exceptions are the small and select group of friends he likes to keep around, and then– well, then there’s you, but that feels different, somehow.

You know of Newt’s friends, they’re all good people. The kind of good people that you’d expect someone like Newt to hang out with. There’s Alby, tall and strong and ever-present in student leadership organizations. He keeps trying to get Newt to run with him in various elections. Usually Newt’s too good of a sport to say no, but the blond boy would much rather fade into the background under more secretarial roles as opposed to vocal vice presidencies. You’d know, you’ve seen him.

Minho’s a ton of fun, too. No one can crush the student athlete grind like him. He’s captain of the varsity cross country team, and will happily swear to anyone around that he’s the fastest one by far. Newt used to run with him, but there was an injury and a lot of crushed dreams and no one likes to talk about it much. It’s surprising how quickly people can move on.

Thomas is new, just switched over to your school a few weeks ago. He’s got this freaky sort of determination that makes you want to stand and watch while he tears up everything you’ve ever known. You’re all sort of fascinated by him, and you have no doubt that if there’s anyone capable of acing the SAT and making it far enough out of here to see the walls of an Ivy League, it would be him.

The others are just as fun. Teresa’s new too, although she usually keeps to herself. Thomas knows her the best. Frypan, president of the school cooking club, can usually be seen proffering boxes of freshly baked delicacies to his friends. They’re all good kids, the lot of them. Even Chuck, who might have been someone’s younger brother or babysitting victim or just some kid they picked up. He’s years younger than any of them and goes to the local elementary school, but he’s still there half the time you see them hanging out together.

Of all of the friends, though, Newt is the enigma you’d most like to decipher. He’s quiet, for one thing, even despite the fact that he’s in such a joyful friend group. He’s smarter than anyone gives him credit for, maybe because he’s too modest to brag as much as anyone else.

And, for another thing, he’s cute. Terribly charming. Utterly impossible to ignore. He’s been in a handful of your classes for years now, and you’ve never been able to muster up the courage to have a conversation about more than classwork. Usually, he’s just on the other side of the room, working on the work from your very same lecture, and yet you can’t seem to say what you really want to him.

That might change this year, though. He’s in your history class, and the teacher has given you the best blessing any educational faculty member can provide and seated you right next to him. The desks in that room are arranged in pairs, separate from everyone else save one person, and you are with Newt. It’s absolutely lovely.

So, yes, you can stare at him in math, as you’re doing right now, but the second that bell rings, you can take your time getting to history next period, because he will be there waiting for you, and he will smile up at you, and everything, everything, will be alright.

Only– when you get to class, there’s someone in your seat. It’s not a case of someone who forgot where their assigned seat was halfway through the year. In fact, this misplaced student isn’t even in your class. This is Thomas, who should be across the hall, but isn’t.

Apparently he’s run in to urge Newt to do something. You try to hear more as you drift closer, but just when you’re within hearing range, Newt’s eyes flicker up to you and his entire body seems seized by some sort of terrible panic. He frantically cuts Thomas off, saying something about how he’ll totally do whatever they were talking about.

Thomas looks confused by the sudden change in mood, and glances over his shoulder to see you standing there, waiting for him. He stands up quickly, jokes about stealing your seat, and leaves in a rush. You let your backpack drop to the ground, and look back at the hurriedly departing Thomas. The brown-haired boy flashes Newt an eager thumbs up before leaving, which makes absolutely no sense.

You take your seat at last, peering over at Newt for some kind of explanation. The blond boy just stares intently at his homework, mumbling something about how he doesn’t know what that was about. It’s obvious that you’re not going to get any answers from him now, so you sigh and grab your books from your bag.

The second you look away, though, you can see Newt cautiously looking back at you out of the corner of your eye, a soft smile slipping over his face when he thinks you won’t notice. You trust Newt that he won’t do anything to embarrass you, so that business with Thomas truly must have been nothing at all.

Still, you’re curious, but Newt behaves pretty much the same throughout the class. You watch him out of the corner of your eye the whole time, waiting for him to slip up and say something, but no dice. He looks a little uneasy, but it doesn’t seem like anything major. 

When the teacher dismisses the class to work on a packet with your assigned seating partner, you expect Newt to do something, but no. He keeps clearing his throat like he’s going to say a few words, but he seems to lose his nerve every time and fades back into silence or, worse, a discussion of 17th century trading practices as you’re meant to be doing.

You almost think that you’re going to go the whole class without a single thing coming of Thomas’ intrusion when the bell rings, dismissing everyone to their next period. You stand up, starting to shove your books and folders into your backpack once more. Newt stands too, looking gripped by panic.

“Y/N,” he begins, then cuts himself off just as quickly.

“Yeah?” You ask, distracted by the zipper on your backpack, which has chosen this very moment to get stuck.

“Would you– would you like to see a movie with me sometime? There are a few good ones at the theater nearby, if you’d want to do something like that. If you don’t want to, that’s cool, obviously, but I was kind of hoping that–”

Newt’s tripping over himself by now, but you clear his nerves with a single smile. “Newt,” you say, “I would love to go out with you.”

“Really?” He asks, a little ahead of himself. “I mean, yeah, that sounds great. Does Friday work?”

“Friday’s perfect,” you tell him.

“Cool,” he says, “Cool, yeah. I’ll see you then.”

“Can’t wait,” you grin.

You don’t think you’d mind standing there a while longer, with Newt looking at you with that radiant smile, but unfortunately you are still in school, and you still have classes to get to. One of your friends calls your name from across the room, irritably wondering why you’re still lingering there. 

You allow yourself a beat longer, then leave at last. Newt is looking at you when you vanish from view, you think, but for once you understand what he’s not saying, what he means the most, and that– well, that is absolutely everything.

maze runner tag list: @rogueanschel, @ellobruv, @retvenkos, @neewtmas, @mayfieldss, @hiya-itsamber, @gods-fools-heroes, @hope92100, @23victoria, @w1shes43, @ilovexavierthrope, @fadedver

[davi-doo]

On Cardinal Lawrence/Lomeli's Neutrality

Now that I almost finish the novel, I want to talk about this particular element of Lawrence/Lomeli character, which was elaborated at length in the book.

When I watched the movie, I noticed how in the beginning, Tedesco was rather friendly towards Lawrence, despite his apparent close association with the former pope and the liberal party. It was clear that the patriarch of Venice was firm in his traditionalist values, and wouldn't bother to extend pleasantry to those he knows have the opposing ideas and thus present themselves as his enemies. And yet, he not only greeted Lawrence warmly upon his own arrival but also welcomed the dean to his table and spoke earnestly during the first meal they shared at the conclave.

We know in the book, Lawrence character is originally an Italian (the name, Lomeli). This partly explains why Tedesco is willing to invite the dean into his "Holy Roman Church circle jerk", but it's not the only reason. The change of Italian Lomeli into the English Lawrence doesn't take away the meaning of Tedesco's initial affability. Let me tell you why.

As the dean of the cardinal college, Lawrence/Lomeli is the second most senior cardinal, only after the pope. There have been other posts that pointed out how much responsibility and "soft" power he has within the Curia: he's like the "manager" whose work seem mundance and invisible to himself and many, but in its absence everything might go up in flame.

Someone of his position is also aware of many secrets. Just during the welcoming hour of the conclave, he casually looked at the incoming cardinals, his colleagues, and thought to himself about all their little contribution to the church, their role in its inner politics, and so many allerged scandals. It was just a memory practice to him but oh shit, he holds all those detailed informations in his weary old head.

Naturally, Lomeli/Lawrence had been serving the pope and the church, it's his duty to protect their reputation despite all flaws. We all know how his obsession with maintaining neutrality fueled his inner turmoil, how he blames his moral weakness for his straying from faith. But it was largely the intricate systemic corruption, or rather erosion, that happened within the Curia. One that can be felt by the heart and not fully understood by the mind. One that manifested in each time a cardinal scolds "Oh don't be naive.".

Coming back to Tedesco, I believe he gave Lawrence/Lomeli the benefit of doubt, that he may be swayed to the traditionalist values, given his neutrality. Lawrence/Lomeli viewed his neutrality as a virtue, while the outsider viewed it as leniency, or even complicity! Tedesco's love language is mansplaining. I'm not joking! It's written in the book that Tedessco identified his followers as those who will sit and listen to what he has to say.

The cherry on top? When the pope passed away, Lomeli/Lawrence was the last among the senior cardinal to be informed. And yet, he himself suggest he should make a call to Tedesco, for the sake of formality. Something something "He deserves to know", except that Tedesco already knew through his inner people. The dean's liberal best friend and not so liberal colleagues can only look at him like "welp, he is really like that".

To conclude, this is not a hate post but just me making sense of the character's subtle interactions. And damn, you really should believe people when they tell you who they are, stand up and leave the fascist table like Lomeli/Lawrence did or be known as one of them.

[shikai-the-storyteller]

Who is Luzu?

Luzu was just announced as a QSMP member, and since he's a very important character in Karmaland and a VERY important person to Quackity's character, here's a quick rundown of Luzu and his lore for folks who aren't familiar with him:

Luzu is played by LuzuVlogs, a Spanish Twitch streamer who's good friends with Quackity!

IRL, they're such good friends that Luzu once accidentally called his real life son "Quackity"

Luzu is bilingual and can speak English and Spanish.

Luzu's character used to be a very kind, friendly, and loving man who helped everyone

HOWEVER, during Karmaland 4 (the season before Quackity joined) when he campaigned to be mayor of Karmaland, he was betrayed and mocked by his friends and the person he loved (who then ran off with someone else)

Luzu before the elections vs. after the elections

These two animatics sum up his K4 lore pretty well if you want an even shorter TLDR: Lemon Boy, Karma (an animatic approved by Luzu himself)

As a result, Luzu is a very vengeful, distrustful, and all around tragic character

Luzu canonically has an evil side, and he made a deal with "dark gods" in the past to take revenge on the people who've wronged him.

Despite all his past heartbreak and lingering anger, he immediately took a liking to Quackity when they first met.

Luzu and Quackity's Karmaland characters are parallels to each other

Luzu and Quackity were canonically in love with each other, but they were too emotionally constipated to confess their feelings despite their many, many, many romantic and borderline sexual shenanigans.

Luzu warned Quackity not to trust anyone in Karmaland except for him. But despite Luzu's deep mistrust of other people, he trusted Quackity immediately.

Luzu is a very possessive man, and very protective of Quackity.

He calls Quackity "Quacks" (both in and out of character)

He and Rubius have a long-standing rivalry, and they normally don't get along very well.

Luzu and Quackity had 4 (adopted) kids together.

When campaigning for mayor of Karmaland, Quackity asked everyone what they wanted most, and Luzu's response was, "I want you to be happy, Quackity."

HOWEVER, the day of the election, Luzu joined as an opposing candidate at the last second and stole the election from Quackity, fearing that the position in office might leave Quackity with the same trauma he had in a previous life (a life which he can only half-remember).

Luzu says everything he did, he did to protect Quackity.

TLDR: Luzu trauma-projected onto Quackity, who then started a revolution that nearly destroyed Karmaland in retaliation.

For a good TLDR of the revolution arc, “I Can’t Decide” is a good one to watch.

Even though he was furious with Luzu, Quackity told Rubius not to kill him. He’s referred to Luzu as “My 100%”, and “the best person I knew in Karmaland”, and even expressed his gratitude that Luzu was always so kind to him to Luzu himself, despite the war and despite knowing one of them would probably have to kill the other to end it.

Luzu said the song that best fits his character during the revolution arc is Bloody Mary by Lady Gaga.

Edit: This isn’t about the character, but I just saw what Luzu said in response to people asking him if he knew about the invitation:

Luzu: A mi Quackity me invitó desde hace bastante, me dijo si quería participar, así que llevo tiempo calladito, calladito, para no spoilear nada, aunque yo soy invitado no sé nada jaja, lo lleva todo Quackity, así que veremos con qué nos sorprende nuestro querido Quacks.

Translation: My Quackity invited me a long time ago, he asked me if I wanted to participate, so I've been quiet for a while, so as not to spoil anything, although I'm invited I don't know anything haha, Quackity takes everything, so we'll see what our beloved Quacks surprises us with.

Other info posts:

Who is Spreen? | Who is Sapo Peta? | Who is Vegetta?

[spop-romanticizes-abuse]

you know, i like hordak as a character. he's interesting, he's likeable, he's a good example of an abuse victim who isn't overly infantilized and coddled by the narrative. his relationship with entrapta was cute, his relationship with horde prime was tragic and i like that he at least gets a proper confrontation with his abuser, where he is able to declare his own independence and get some closure from his trauma.

however, there are two main problems i have with his character (some of which i've already talked about but i want to go into more detail):

1. hordak was not an effective villain. heck, he was barely a villain at all.

you cannot tell me that hordak was the main villain of the first four seasons when the majority of his screentime was spent with him either lurking in his sanctum or canoodling with entrapta.. in his sanctum.

at first i thought that hordak was going to be this looming presence that had control over everything and puppeted everyone's every move, and was this evil masterpiece who orchestrated everything behind the scenes but.. nah. turns out he's just an incompetent manchild who needs a literal teenager with no battle experience to plan everything out for him. how did he conquer half of etheria before that? who knows? not important.

hordak also has no meaningful relationship with adora, the hero. there were actually a lot of parallels that could be drawn from hordak and adora both being raised by abusers who valued perfection over everything else. granted, in that aspect, hordak is more like catra but there isn't even that many parallels with him and catra. there are, in fact, more parallels with catra and shadow weaver or catra and horde prime.

and okay, not every hero and villain needs a deep intertwined relationship or complex narrative parallels. but at least give us something? a proper interaction?? the show even acknowledges the fact that hordak and adora have absolutely no connection with each other, when adora asks him why he kidnapped her and he basically replies with "lol who are you again". and then he just randomly remembers her at the end of the finale and it’s supposed to be this touching, emotional scene except you feel nothing because these characters literally never interacted, what are we looking at?

adora is supposed to be fighting the horde, but it seemed like she was just fighting catra most of the time. as the hero who opposes etheria's oppressors, shouldn't adora mainly be targeting hordak, the person who started it all? and shouldn't hordak, as the leader of the horde, be more concerned about the rebellion having an actual god on their side? i guess it doesn't really matter if said god can be easily defeated by a inexperienced catgirl

it just feels like hordak didn't have to be a villain at all. we only know he does horrifying things, because the narrative says that he does. oh, and he tortures catra once and sends her to crimson waste, so i guess that qualifies as being a villain.

the point of a villain is to drive the central conflict of the story. to oppose the hero and to pose an actual threat to the status quo. any character who doesn't do this is merely an antagonist. in hordak's case, i don't even know if he counts as an antagonist. he's like that one edgy antihero with a dark past where he murdered countless people but it doesn't really matter in present time. it’s just there to add flavor and to enhance his tragic past, because war is obviously a fictional fantasy trope and totally not something that has happened in real life. /s

2. like many other characters in this show, hordak's character almost completely revolves around his love interest.

yes, entrapta taking care of hordak and boosting his self-esteem is endearing. yes, hordak breaking his defenses and being vulnerable around entrapta is very sweet. but apart from entrapta, the only characters who have any kind of effect on hordak is horde prime and catra. and.. i guess, imp? but again, imp is mostly just a stand-in for the cute animal sidekick.

i know that hordak was supposed to be a recluse but it's impossible to believe that this kind of person was able to start an army and feed them with false propaganda. again, if you read my post about cults and their methods of indoctrination, you would know that cult leaders are often very charismatic and friendly people. and i know the horde isn't exactly a cult but we are supposed to believe that at least some of the cadets raised there genuinely believed that they were on the side of good, when their leader was a mysterious shut-in who basically didn't do anything substantial and their mentor/superior officer was just actively radiating Evil Vibes™.

i just wish they did more with hordak’s character and actually made him interact with some of the other characters. he doesn’t even interact with shadow weaver that much, and she was his second-in-command. even if it’s not direct interactions, it would have been interesting to see the characters mention hordak more, especially the ex-horde soldiers. apart from the general “oh no he’s evil and wants to kill everyone”, that is.

like we see people talking about shadow weaver. we see adora open up about her relationship with shadow weaver and ponder about whether there’s some good left in the woman who raised her. we see glimmer talking about how powerful shadow weaver is and how she could help the rebellion. we see catra complaining about how shadow weaver treated her in comparison to adora. we see angella talk about how shadow weaver shouldn’t be trusted.

when you think about it, shadow weaver was much more of a looming menacing presence in spop, despite not even being a villain, let alone the main villain.

even when she was on the good side and helping the princesses, there was always a ceaseless feeling of unease and fear, because we’ve seen what she’s capable of. we weren’t just told that “shadow weaver is sooo abusive, she’s bad!” we see how she treats adora and catra, we see how she manipulates situations and people for her own benefit, we see how she slowly starts to get into glimmer’s head. the show actually does a good job with shadow weaver, and i have to give credit where credit is due. shadow weaver was genuinely a well-written character.

hordak is just.. there, most of the time. he acts evil enough to be considered as one of the villains but he’s not actually a villain if you consider it for more than five seconds. he doesn’t really do anything for the bulk of the narrative, he has one kinda cool scene where he stands up to his abuser and then he just peaces out with entrapta.

i don’t really understand the point of taking a main villain of the show and turning him into this. sure, the OG hordak was more of a comedic villain and wasn’t super complex, but from what i know, he still played an important role in a narrative and his humorous moments made up for the lack of a tragic backstory.