#funnily enough it’s the same reason I gave up on One Piece and never came back to it

[prozach27]

Finished demon slayer. Finished jujutsu kaisen. People keep recommending Vinland Saga but I want something more supernatural. Think I’m finally gonna sit down and try to get through all of Bleach.

[heartilywrites]

A Korra x fire princess please. 🙏

Maybe R is apart of the team but no one other than Tenzin knows about her being the princess of the fire nation for security reasons whilst she’s not in the fire nation. Though when trouble arises in the fire nation capitol, team avatar is needed… how will this play out?

،، 𝓦ho is it.ᐣ ; Korra

requesting guide | masterlist

summary: where you have to face reality now.

content warning: fluff ; angst if you squint enough ; Korra x fem!reader ; established relationship ; i think i didn't add r bending status ; zuko cameo ! ; no use of y/n ; banner does not represent reader in any way, just for the aesthetic

wc: 2.3k

a/n: OMG HI 👋🏼 im really sorry for taking this long to answer your request, it's been crazy days u know? but hopefully I'll get everyone's rq soon. im sorry if this is shit im coming out a writers block forcefully.. THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING, LOVE, ENJOY:D

“ I'm never going back now, it'd be so sweet if things just stayed the same.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “That’s not fair!” the avatar’s voice was heard all over the place, back planted on the floor while you were sitting over her waist to pin her down completely. Her hands removed the piece of cloth over her eyes and when blue eyes met yours, Korra smirked. “Okay, maybe it is fair, I like this view.”

Funnily, your eyes rolled and a second later your legs were moving to stand up. Korra made an offended noise before taking your legs to pin you as you did with her.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Hey! We already finished training, missy!” over giggles, you said, tapping her thighs softly to try and make her move. “You were the one saying how great of a bender you were with your eyes closed.”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Yeah, but I am certain you were cheating somehow.” Korra’s face got closer to yours, her unstable breaths mixed with yours. “You owe me for that.”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Do I now?” the question came in such a low voice that you were sure that it could totally not be heard by the girl, but she did and was so enthusiastic to give you her answer when the sound of a male tone clearing his throat made you two look up.

A very serious Tenzin met your gaze, Korra was quick to stand up and help you in the way. “Tenzin, hi! How can we help you today?” she spoke for the two of you.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “We have a situation and the Fire Nation needs you,” gray eyes were fixated on you when naming the nation and then moved to the avatar. “Well, they need the whole team, actually.”

As the master airbender went on to explain the situation, your mind disconnected completely from the conversation. You didn’t feel ready… No, you were, in fact, not ready at all to face the royal family again.

Truth being told, there was totally something Korra didn’t know about you: you were the princess of the Fire Nation who for security reasons had fled the palace after being threatened alongside the young crowned prince, Iroh, to death by a noble family wanting to take control over the succession line on the throne. Iroh was safe on his own, he joined the United Forces just in time and there was no way they could get to him while being a general, but you? You had to change entirely, from appearance to personality. A younger you was scared, but somehow excited; it was like acting in a play, no? You had always wondered how it would be to be an actress and destiny gave you the opportunity in such an ironic scenario.

The royal family trusted Tenzin with your safety and they made the right decision, the airbender and his wife had adopted you as their own telling everyone how you were Pema’s niece who, due to unfortunate events, was an orphan and not a single soul thought of questioning it. Back at the Fire Nation, the royal family had said how they were keeping the princess safe from any threat, but that was all they extended to the population. Every now and then you heard rumors about how the princess was probably dead by now, how the royal family had locked her in her room or how they changed her for a commoner to ensure her life and just one theory had come close to what really happened. Since your appearance had changed to such a point that even Iroh took his time recognizing you the first time he visited, no one knew you were the lost princess, it was even more difficult now since you grew and your teen factions had started to fade away.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “You go ahead, sweetie, I just need to talk with my uncle about some things.” you answered when the avatar asked you if you were going with her to tell the others the plan.

Her head nodded and she gave you a small peck before leaving the gym. “See you at dinner, then!”

Both sets of eyes followed the southerner, once you made sure she was gone you turned to Tenzin. “Have you told them?” you were quick to ask, concern painted over your face.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “No, Your Highness.” he shook his head, a small grimace started to show on your face.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Tenzin, I have known you since I was eleven,” crossed your arms over your chest. “I told you there’s no need to call me ‘Your Highness’, I see you as an uncle.” a small smile was exchanged between the two of you before a tired sigh left your mouth. “They’re going to kill me the second they all recognize me in the group!”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “We can tell them that you got sick and make you stay with Pema and the kids.” while he was trying to find a solution, your hands were pulling your face down in distress.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Korra will insist that it’s a quick task.” you knew your girlfriend so well that you had already thought of every possibility in your mind. “Do you think it’s too late to burn the side of my face? I mean, it could be a tradition, couldn’t it?”

Giving you a disapproving look to such question and some scolding words, Tenzin made the two of you go back home and as said, when you tried to tell Korra how you felt like you were starting to get sick, she responded with a ‘We’ll just go and come, honey, I’m sure new airs could help your flu’. You gave Tenzin a look of ‘I told you’, he shook his head.

Your desperation and nervousness grew with every kilometer the group traveled to your hometown. You tried to stay as calm as possible to not allow them to catch on to your humor, but it was nearly impossible when you started to recognize the streets Iroh and you used to play or just walk in.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Babe, are you okay?” she asked softly when her eyes met your face for the first time, your hand held tighter to hers. “Is something wrong?”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Korra, listen,” with your heart threatening to leave your chest, you tried to talk to her. “There’s something I haven’t told you about me.”

When you tried to continue, the so familiar voice called. “Avatar Korra!” the named girl turned to the Fire Lord, you hid behind her without letting go of her hand. “We’re so happy to have you here, come in! I wouldn’t have bothered you if we weren’t so desperate for help.”

You tried your best to stay low the whole time, avoiding to look at any family member in the eyes or even talk in case they remembered how your voice sounded, so far you were doing so well. Korra didn’t push either since she was already busy with the Fire Lord trying to help the nation, two days after the mission was so close to finishing, you could feel how your life could go back to tranquility and not receive a single scolding or punishment from any of your family on how they had sent you away to stay alienate from any danger and you just ran to join the avatar on her team to help the world. You had already came to terms of living out of the palace, so if they made you go back just to lock you away you knew you couldn't handle it.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Princess?” the voice of the former Fire Lord made you freeze in your step.

It was too good to be true.

The whole team turned to face the man. “Oh, Zuko, hey!” Korra greeted, a bit confused. “Can we help you with anything?”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Korra, it is always a pleasure to have you here.” he greeted back, his brows furrowed. “What are you doing traveling with the princess?” he asked, his amber eyes never abandoned your face.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “What…?” sky colored eyes turned to you, your own fixated on the old man. “I think you’re confused, Zuko, this is my girlfriend–”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Grandfather, I can explain.” your gaze was blurry from the tears accumulating in your eyes, the view of the older man had made you emotional, he looked different to what you remember, but those gentle eyes always stayed the same.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Wow, wait, time out.” Bolin’s voice sounded. “You’re the lost princess?”

Your head nodded, slowly turning your gaze to Korra, whose eyes were already pinned on you. Dimmer than you’ve ever seen them and you knew what that look meant; Korra felt betrayed. Betrayed by the way she was kept from that information, betrayed by Tenzin for not saying a word and most importantly, betrayed by you. She felt as if you didn’t trust her enough to tell her your situation, like you thought she couldn’t protect you from those said were trying to harm you.

Her feet made her walk away from you and when you tried to follow her, the elderly man stopped you with his hand.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “You and I need to have a serious talk, young lady.” he said, his tone didn’t sound like he was angry. He sounded concerned.

As said, a very long talk was exchanged between the two of you. Zuko wanted to know why you would put yourself at such risk when the family was trying to ensure that you lived your life calmly -that was expected, wasn’t it?- and your initial argument was how you wanted to help people, how Korra’s cause in making the humans and spirits live along was something you’d wanted since little when he told Iroh and you stories about the spirit world and he understood that completely, after all he did kind of the same when joining Aang, didn’t he?

He assured you how he wouldn’t tell another soul about it if you promised to be careful and maybe start writing to him again like you used to do the first years you were away from the nation. After the talk with the firebender, you were determined to find Korra and explain it all; it wasn’t that hard to find her, walking at the halls connecting one side of the palace to the other, you saw a familiar blue silhouette sitting near a pond where small turtle ducks were swimming around.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Hey, cutie.” you called, trying to test the waters. She didn’t look up. “I'm looking for the avatar, have you seen her?”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Your Highness.” hoarsely greeted back, your shoulders raised a bit to such name she voiced.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Spirits, I hate that so much.” you said sitting next to her, your body completely turned to hers. “Can we talk? Please…”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “I don’t really think there’s much to say, after all, I don’t know you.” the way she was speaking to you hurt like hell, but the last words felt like a dagger to your heart.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Korra, it wasn’t my intention keeping this from you.” your hand tried to take hers, at first she thought of taking it away, but the warm touch your skin had on hers made her keep the gesture. “I was told not to talk to a single soul about it. Tenzin and Pema only know because they were instructed to keep an eye in case anyone tried to attack me… Again.”

Her eyes now looked at you, eyebrows furrowed. “Again? Wasn’t it just empty threats?”

Your head moved from side to side, one eye closed. “Kind of, but the week before I moved to Republic City they were able to infiltrate the palace somehow and I was the first one to be found.” you started, lifting a little bit of your shirt to show a scar on your abdomen. “I fought against them while waiting for the guards and got a pretty cool souvenir.”

Her eyes looked at the scar, she was familiar with it, you had told her it happened when you were a kid. You had “tripped and got hurt while playing in the forest.” and now that she thought about it, it did sound a bit off, but back then she didn’t ask much of it.

Ice colored eyes looked back at you, a sweet smile was what she received back.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Everything I do is to protect you and myself,” you continued. “I'm really sorry for hurting you in the process, Korra, but don’t let this come between us. Besides my scar and title, everything else I have told you is completely true and myself.”

The silence the avatar was in felt like an eternity, you couldn’t know what she was thinking about, if she wanted to break up with you or give you a chance. “No more secrets.” she finally spoke, making you smile big, she followed your action. “Does this mean I'm part of the Royal family too?”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Well... I don’t have a betrothal necklace nor you have an engagement ring, so... Not yet.” a small giggle left your mouth, the avatar cut the distance between the two of you to leave a small kiss on your lips.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Did you get grounded for coming here?” she whispered, her eyes now looked soft, as they usually were when Korra was with you.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “I got a long talk about safety and anecdotes from avatar Aang's time, but not a single scold from the Fire Lord herself... My grandfather knows how to keep a secret.” you finished, frowning a bit the tip of your nose. “But we do need to leave as soon as this is over before she recognizes me, if the Fire Lord does we will be facing a distance relationship.”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Heard, ma'am.” she straightened her back and made a salute, making you laugh. “We'll take a bag of fire flakes, they're so good.”

[misschifuyu]

howdy 🥰 i reaaally like your writing style and the way you depict characters 🤌

can i request styling Baji, Chifuyu and Mitsuya's hair pleaase ? 🥺

thank you! i hope you have a GREAT day!! 💖

- hello there babes ! thank you so much omgg, really ♡ and I hope you’re having a wonderful day yourself, here’s your request bby !!

Baji, Chifuyu and Mitsuya getting their hair styled by their s/o

genre: fluff

warnings: none

Baji

as said in the shower headcanons, I believe that baji takes pretty good care of his hair. it's very soft to the touch, and the slight wave to his locks always made him look as if he spent hours styling it

realistically - and this you would find out after he spent a night over at yours - his hair will go that way with a simple brush through, nothing more, nothing less

you hadn't believed it at first, but upon watching him do so a few times, you came to the conclusion that he was gifted with perfect hair by the gods themselves

it would be a weekend that you'd ask him if you could play with his hair, seeing as he didn't have any plans until the evening

he'd comply happily, and patiently sit down in front of your bathroom mirror, waiting for you to start on whatever ideas you had stored away in that head of yours

of course, you'd start off with his signature ponytail

you had to hold back a gawk as the hair was easily collected into your hands, allowing you to slip the hair band on with ease

where had this guy even got his hair routine from ?

all this did was boost your excitement to see what other styles you could get his hair into

baji had to take a few silent seconds when you pulled his hair into two pigtails, right at the top of his head

you thought he looked splendid, but he, on the other hand, was about to regret letting you near his locks. nevertheless, he let you continue, slipping the hair out of the tight style

next were two braids. at first, you didn't think much of it: he'd look like a cute school girl, and you'd for sure had to try and sneak a picture of that if he let you

but, as you tied the second one with the little band and flipped them forwards, you could almost see the hairs on the back of his neck stand up

"I look like that haitani bastard, y/n, what the hell!"

after realising what you had done, you couldn't hold back a few laughs as he fumbled around, trying to undo the neatly folded pieces of hair

he wasn't best pleased, but was impressed by how - if a certain someone didn't sport them all the time - he'd actually pull them off

last, but certainly not least, you wanted to try a little something out with his hair that you had seen a few other guys with long-ish hair wander around with

parting the locks just above his ear, you pulled the top layer up into a bun, tying it loosely with the hair band

you made sure not to make it so tight that it would make him look almost bald on the top of his head by giving it a little volume

at this last style - the notorious man bun - baji sent a look to the mirror that made you confirm that he quite liked it

turning his head around to the sides, he looked at the bun you had pull together just a little below the top of his head

"you know...this one ain't too bad"

clasping your hands together in joy, you told him that it was a pretty easy style to do, and it would mean he could keep his hair out of his face without having to do a full-on ponytail

giving you a face of approval, he happily left your little hairdresser session, not even bothering to ask if you were actually done

you didn't mind though. in fact, you were looking forward to see what the others thought of your grand creation on your boyfriend's hair

Chifuyu

funnily enough, chifuyu does actually try and keep his hair in a good shape. he's tried silk pillowcases, deep conditioners and even treatments that he'd frequently steal from your place

he'd always bring the bottles back, though, so not to worry

it was the reason why he was happy to let you play with his hair one morning that he hadn't much else to do

he stole your hair products, so he guessed it was only fair to give his hair up for a quick experiment from your behalf

like baji, you'd sit chifuyu in his bathroom, just in case something went horribly wrong and you needed to wash out his hair in the shower

knowing you were only working with a top - although considerably thick - layer of his hair, you had taken out your smallest hairbands

you had frequently seen him with his hair pulled up by his bangs, as he'd usually pull it up into that style whenever he came over to your place

he deemed it much more comfortable than having hair on your face when trying to relax

instead, you jumped right into parting his hair into two sections, forming a straight line down the middle of his head

he looked a little strange with a prominent split like that, making him look like something out of the olden times, so you quickly went in with the bands to try and make his concerned stare go away

granted, it did, but only to be replaced by widened eyes as he stared at the two, small buns you had managed to tie up at the sides of his head

"i..."

"you look like peke j now!"

at your comment, he whipped his head around to look at you, stood behind him as you marvelled at the creation

it seemed that the black cat had heard his name being called out, appearing at the bathroom door in an instant

the two exchanged looks with each other, silently, for a good minute or so

"do i, peke?"

you had to admit that chifuyu was very close with his cat, so much so you were pretty sure they actually had conversations through brainwaves, because the small animal gave a quick meow as an answer

when you eventually got him back in front of the mirror, you started racking your brains on what else you could do with the bundle of bleached, blonde hair

an idea came up, but you weren't too sure how it would play out on his head

nevertheless, you took a risk and started parting his hair in different sections

even chifuyu was curious to see what you were doing. all he could tell was that you seemed to be having a little struggle with it

and the result wasn't much better

having attempted to tie his hair into a short braid, you ended up noticing that not all his hair strands were the same length, ending up in what looked to be more like a bundle of messy hair, single strands sticking up in all directions

"what's...that supposed to be, y/n?"

after struggling to give a straight explanation, the two of you burst out into a fit of laughter

surely enough, the style had gone a little off track, but you couldn't deny how amusing your boyfriend looked with it on top of his head

Mitsuya

now, mitsuya doesn't really have much hair on his head

this is mainly due to the fact that he used to have his sides shaved, much like draken, so it would take him a little tweaking here and there to be able to get an even haircut all around

he doesn't really mind, though. it's a simple hairstyle, and he really had enough work with his sisters' hair that he didn't need another head to style every morning

this wouldn't stop you from running your hands through it, though, and wondering what you could do with it. surely there could be at least a little style to do with it

after a good ten minutes of thinking, you jolted up from your previous position, laying on his chest as the two of you had been watching the tv

with only a minimal explanation, you dragged him to your bathroom, sitting him down on a stool before the mirror

through the reflective surface, mitsuya could see you fumbling around in the drawers just behind him, just before whipping out a box, a triumphant smile on your face

when you placed the mysterious container on the sink, he automatically knew where you were going with this, and he was curious to see how you'd do it

you know those small, colourful butterfly clips that are all the rage now?

well, you had a whole bunch of them, and you were determined to make his hair look like whole colony of little butterflies

the first bunch that you clipped on were pretty randomly placed, but as his hair started to get filled up, you brought out whatever artistic side you had in you to try and turn it into art

mitsuya watched you try and place the last few left, looking around his own head to see where the next one could be placed

"look, you can put one here"

he has a very good eye when it comes to styling pretty much anything, so, of course, he'd lend a hand when you were finishing up with your creation

gleefully, you followed his instructions, and after fifteen minutes of decorating his grey hair, you finally smiled at him through the mirror

"what do you think?"

squinting his eyes as though evaluating your work, he quickly followed with a convinced nod

"im sure to become toman's image if I start wearing these all the time, that's for sure"

you giggled at his comment, and asked if it was okay to take a picture of him to be able to show his sisters later on. he happily complied, and he actually seemed quite content with what you had done with his hair

he had never imagined to wear so many clips at once

but, be aware...as soon as they're off, he's going to want to do either the same or maybe even more to your hair

you managed to keep him sat for one more style, though; one that you were sure would give you enough time to escape before he actually fixed it up

combing his hair back, you spread a considerable amount of gel on his hair, making it stick down to his hair. unsurprisingly, mitsuya gave you questionable looks as you flattened his poor hair down

the result was a very slick looking boyfriend, and you couldn't help but jokingly telling him he should wear it like that all the time

however, he was not about to go around looking like he had just come out of grease

[itsclydebitches]

There seems to be no middle ground with RWBY+, they trust you or they don’t. Some have no chance to “earn” it, but others don’t do anything to gain it. James should’ve earned it a hundred times over. He did so much but it wasn’t enough. What did Robyn do? She tried to attack Ruby and was only stopped by Penny. After that? Yang trusts the woman who almost hurt her sister over the man who gave her an arm, then blamed Ruby. Any wonder I hate these characters so much?

The frustrating thing is that I think I can see what RT was going for. Frustrating because it's the reading most of the fandom falls back on, despite the fact that the show... never actually wrote that story. In short, it's the belief that there's established good and bad in this world and we have a responsibility to uphold the former regardless of personal trust. So if a friend of mine is, say, being a racist asshole and a stranger is not, I have a moral responsibility to side with the stranger, despite the fact that I don't know them, technically can't trust them on other matters, and have little to no emotional investment in them as an individual. You need to take the side of what's right, no matter how hard that is. It's why we get so many heroes facing off against former friends and mentors. "You'd really betray me for them?" they say, pointing to the sidekick our hero only met at the start of the story, maybe a couple months ago in-world. "Yeah," they reply. "Because they're not trying to kill everyone." Basic humanity trumps long-term relationships.

That, as far as I can tell, seems to be the basic setup that RWBY was going for: Robyn may be a stranger, but she's the Good Person sticking up for Mantle, whereas Ironwood may be an ally and friend, but he's also the Bad Person hurting Mantle. Ergo, aligning with Robyn wins out, no matter that she's a stranger and Ironwood an ally. That's likewise why fans are so quick to dismiss evidence of Ironwood's good nature. Things like Yang's arm or the licenses aren't accepted as evidence for why the group should have started with more trust in him, they're reframed as excuses for why critics supposedly want to overlook his presumed, horrific nature — something that the story later made real with him shooting Oscar, killing the councilman, hacking Penny, and threatening to bomb Mantle. Viewing the good Ironwood did as some manipulative temptation the group was right to resist depends entirely on seeing Ironwood as the archetypal bad guy to Robyn's good guy.

However, this attempt failed spectacularly for numerous reasons already discussed over the past two years. Ironwood's actions were never revealed as manipulations. The group continued to work with him, thereby shouldering responsibility for his choices. Ruby actively pushed to complete Amity, despite the harm it was doing to Mantle. Robyn never did anything with the resources she stole, etc. This presumed line between Ironwood and Robyn simply doesn't exist in the text — or at least it's incredibly blurred — so when Yang and Blake run to share intel with her, it doesn't feel like the heroes turning away from the wrong path to back the real hero. We don't understand how resources to build a communications tower are hurting everyday peoples' lives. We don't understand why Weiss can't just go up and plug the hole with a bunch of ice. We don't understand why, if hurting Mantle is such an objectively awful thing, our hero Ruby keeps pushing to finish Amity anyway. We don't understand why there isn't at least an acknowledgement of good intentions here, considering that the tower is meant to save the world from Salem, helping Mantle in the long run. We don't understand why, if the group is so concerned with Ironwood's choices, they don't tell him the one piece of information that would get him to stop. And we don't understand Robyn.

Because here's the thing: it's badly written. The whole Amity debate straight through to the Fall of Atlas is a mess of ill thought out morals, shoddy worldbuilding, and outright contradictions. There's no salvaging that without rethinking Volumes 6-8, starting with the group's response to Ozpin. But all that aside, even if we kept things exactly as they are and bought into the assumption that Ironwood is as Bad and Robyn is as Good as the story wants us to believe... the group still should have at least hesitated to trust Robyn. More than a line or two of dialogue between Yang and Blake. I mean actual hesitation and a serious acknowledgement of the complications here. The concept of trust is now a focal point of RWBY and there's enough material across the entire series to make the Robyn situation way more complicated than just the group going, "We should side with her because she wants to do right by the people." Here I'm not talking about what we the audience know about RWBY's construction as a story, I mean what the characters have experienced on screen. It's a simple question at the core of the trust Robyn debate:

How do they know she's telling the truth?

Seriously, how do they know Robyn is who she says she is? That she doesn't have ulterior motives? That she's not outright lying to them and the rest of Atlas? Everything I've heard in defense of the group's fast-track trust falls short. "Well, she's presented as one of the good guys in Atlas, fighting for what's right." You mean like how Cinder, Emerald, and Mercury once posed as huntsmen and joined Ruby's school, supposedly fighting for what was right? "She's interested in politics. It's not like she's out there attacking them like Tyrian." You mean like how Salem infiltrated a kingdom via Lionheart, the White Fang has likewise tried to worm their way into positions of power, and Jacques is currently trying to steal an election? The bad guys don't limit themselves to just trying to murder people straight out. "But she stole resources back for the people!" And did... what with them? For all we actually know, she put those towards a different, nefarious plan. "But she's so passionate and she's sworn she wants to help." People lie! That was the whole thing with Ozpin! Ruby just lied at the start of the Volume. And, funnily enough, Robyn has the semblance that forces others to tell the truth, but no one can make Robyn do the same.

To be clear, I don't actually have a conspiracy theory that she's secretly a baddie. My only point is that fans were right to wonder if she was a White Fang or Salem agent and our group absolutely should have wondered the same. Take away all the personal reasons to trust Ironwood (defending Weiss, Yang's arm, friend of the inner circle, etc.) and we're still left with proof of his intentions in the form of things like Amity's plans and him continually giving the heroes more power, more resources, more connections, more ways to hurt him if they were to ever turn against him. In as much as you can prove anyone is trustworthy, Ironwood was there. But Robyn? Robyn had none of that work. More importantly, that lack interferes with our "She's doing the right thing, so we need to back her" reading. How did the group know she really wanted to do right by the people? And since that's always hard to prove, what did they do to at least attempt to reassure themselves? Absolutely nothing. Which is why the current writing makes them look stupid. They watched the bad guys infiltrate their school, organize the Fall of Beacon, stalk them, pose as allies, turn on them, lie to their faces, are telling lies themselves... and none of them came up when the question of trusting Robyn was put on the table. The idea of someone tricking them (again), or betraying them (again), or lying about Important Topics even though they're doing the same seems to have, somehow, escaped them.

It doesn't matter what Robyn's stance on Mantle is because the group never justified trusting her word and the story failed to show us (and them) that Robyn was doing good. Literally all she does pre-trust is stand for election and, again, we could say the same of Jacques. If the story wanted to make at least a miniscule improvement on this arc, we needed to see either a compelling reason to believe Robyn is all she presents herself as (for example, Penny could have known and vouched for her), or gotten an explanation for why they'd take an unjustified leap of faith when others haven't gotten one, people who have done much to earn that trust. It's a problem that grew exponentially once Oscar trusted Hazel and the group trusted Emerald, but it has existed since Ilia. As it stands, by this logic, Cinder should be able to walk up to the group and go, "I'm not bad anymore. I actually want to help now. No, I'm not lying :)" and that's that. That's what trust means to them. Taking people at their word ...unless you're a flawed ally who has made mistakes. Then trust takes months to rebuild, or is off the table completely.

Ozpin is not trustworthy. Ironwood is not trustworthy. Qrow saying "Hey" is not trustworthy. According to the fandom, Tai is not trustworthy.

Ilia is trustworthy. Robyn is trustworthy. Emerald is trustworthy. Hazel is trustworthy.

It's completely backwards and Robyn was a large part of that strange flip.

[white-tulips]

well, since it’s 5 in the morning I think now’s the perfect time to ramble about my thoughts re: OMORI vs Yume Nikki game design, Black Space, and how trying to copy something successful kind of sets you up for missing the mark 

these are thoughts I’ve been stewing in since january, I don’t want people to forget that I have a lot of opinions about OMORI as a game

(firstly, I’m sorry if this is all over the place or not worded well. it is 5AM)

I’ll preface this by saying that these are merely my opinions. I’m specifically going to be focusing on one aspect of game design here, so if you’re curious about any of my other OMORI game design opinions they’re scattered around my blog and are not hard to find tbh

okay so my thoughts about this are mostly Black Space exclusive, and considering that’s one of the climaxes of the game this might be a bit of a spicy subject to talk about KJFGHKFJG but I am passionate about good game design okay. especially in psychological horror RPG games. (also throwing out there jic that I don’t think OMORI is a bad psychological horror. pls reference this post) 

(also want to say that I genuinely like Black Space. okay? okay)

so this was something that I was talking about with a couple of friends back when I first finished OMORI around the beginning of january. actually, at this point I hadn’t even played Yume Nikki yet, but when I did finally play it recently my thoughts on this were 100% solidified

essentially, our thoughts on this can be boiled down to how Black Space was trying too hard to be Yume Nikki, but didn’t grasp exactly what made Yume Nikki so impactful in the first place

obviously taking inspiration from something you like and wanting to rework it into your own creation is normal, good, and even encouraged! however, the most crucial thing with that is the “reworking” part.  when being inspired by something, the goal is to take what you loved, and didn’t love, and mold it into something entirely new. it shouldn’t be “well I like this thing, and this thing did it like this so I’ll try to do it like that too” because it’s just not going to work. (this is actually an all around issue I have with OMORI, not just Black Space, but more on that later)

so to me, a good 50% of Black Space came of feeling kind of... eh...? it was like... you have 50% that feels so well thought out and meaningful, and then 50% that’s there just to. be there. and be like Yume Nikki, I guess. even before I played Yume Nikki, I couldn’t even remember some of the rooms in Black Space existed until I replayed it again, which is a shame because Black Space is the type of area where everything should leave an impact

now I want to talk about the game design itself-

Yume Nikki is a game about experiences, and atmosphere. there’s limitless area to explore, so much so that it feels endless. there are so few things to interact with that sometimes it feels like you’re doing nothing at all. all you have is aimlessly wandering these huge areas, taking in the sights, and listening to vague sounds and music in the background that are often just a few seconds of audio played on loop. (this is one of my favorite OST in the game. having this be all you hear for 30 minutes as you walk around in a looping forest really does things to your head)

it uses all of these elements to make you feel lost, confused, and very alone. you’re just trapped in a dream, where even with all the space in the world to explore, the lack of anything to do makes it feel suffocating. even the small area you have in the waking world is designed in such a way that feels cramped and destitute-

Yume Nikki is a perfect example of “less is more” and “show, don’t tell.” 

then take OMORI, which doesn’t really know how to balance those things with it’s tendency to try and shove too much in. for instance, think about the over abundance if NPCs with irrelevant fluff dialogue. it was all too much and so dull it got to a point I stopped reading most of them altogether

(and something important to note I think, is that the general feeling of Yume Nikki is the same throughout the entire game. the tone never really changes, and neither do the expectations. OMORI, however, tends to just drop things on you out of nowhere. and that’s not necessarily a bad thing! it works for a lot of different sections of the game, I’ll say. 

however, Black Space was different. it’s kind of like, it just drops you in there and expects you to understand the way it works, despite the fact that all of the other horror segments lead you to have a completely different set of expectations for what you should be doing/feeling. it’s like shifting you into another game entirely, and it’s almost immersion breaking. up until this point, OMORI was not the same type of “show don’t tell” type of game, so suddenly jumping to attempt to do that can make it lose some of it’s impact)

like I mentioned before, Black Space is designed in a way that’s meant to mimic Yume Nikki. and I think we need to ask ourselves “just because we can do this, does it mean that we should?” again, taking inspiration isn’t a bad thing, but it’s the execution that matters

and here’s where my biggest issue actually lies, I suppose. it’s the fact that OMORI has multiple instances of trying to take inspiration from other things, and failing because it’s trying too hard to copy, not rework. it’s just most obvious because of Black Space, I think. because, like I said before, a good half of Black Space is just trying to be Yume Nikki without giving it any OMORI original flavor, and the fact that it’s trying to be something else is immersive breaking as hell to me

for example, take the red mazes. I don’t think the idea to incorporate it into OMORI was bad, but. you can plainly see when you compare the two maps that nothing was really reworked, made more interesting, or even given a OMORI flavored twist-

(Yume Nikki-1 ; OMORI-2)

another instance is less about the game design itself, but surprising/not-surprisingly, it actually has to do with OST

this is something my friend was telling me, because I myself have not read Umineko, but there are OST in OMORI blatantly trying to mimic songs from that VN, even down to their names

the biggest offender imo is GOLDENVENGEANCE which is a decent song, I won’t say it isn’t, but compare it to it’s Umineko inspiration, Golden Slaughterer 

it’s just another unfortunate instance of “this thing I like is good, so I’ll try to copy it!” with no clear grasp on why it’s successful and it’s disappointing. that’s really the only word I have for it at this point, disappointing

and the reason it’s most disappointing is because of things in OMORI that are obvious inspiration, but were reworked so well

let’s take this other Umineko OST, Worldend Dominator. this is a brilliant song, and it’s really fun to listen to. and, it very clearly inspired beloved World's End Valentine

World’s End Valentine slaps. it’s great. it takes aspects of Worldend Dominator and shifts them around to be a unique and fun piece of music that also fits into OMORI perfectly. 

something important to note about this, is that World’s End Valentine and GOLDENVENGEANCE were written by two different composers. what this makes clear to me is that there were people on the OMORI dev team that were better at reworking ideas than others. because, despite a lot of the criticisms I was talking about, there are things in OMORI that are obvious references that I love and think are great!

like this one, the most pointed out nod to Yume Nikki-

I think it’s great. it’s taking a very memorable bit of imagery from Yume Nikki, and giving it a reference while also giving it it’s own deeper meaning beyond just the aesthetics of it. it’s just good, I love it

and yeah, not all of Black Space feels like one giant copy of Yume Nikki. there are plenty of doors that I think take the same aimless, empty, and unsettling feelings and use them in a new way that feels more grounded in OMORI. my personal favorite door is the “Sunny... I love you.” room. 

actually, funnily enough, the area in OMORI that felt the most like Yume Nikki to me wasn’t in Black Space at all. it was actually the snowy area right before Snowglobe Mountain. something about the vast empty space, simple yet atmospheric OST, and little things to find scattered around just gave me a nice Yume Nikki vibe, but mixed with the OMORI style (hell, the OST there and the one for the snowy area in Yume Nikki even have a pleasantly similar vibe, and not in the “oh this is a copy” way [X] [X])

gosh, I feel like if I keep talking I might end up going in circles more than I already have

hopefully my words made sense!! I’d love if anything I said resonated with anyone aha. I just hope that I’m not coming across as hating on something because I’m biased towards something else or something... almost all of the critiques I have about OMORI come from a place of genuine interest

thank you if you read all of this!

[smmahamazing]

There's been a pep in my step today because......

It's MirSan day!!!!!

I'm so excited to finally share with you guys a fic that I've been working on since last October. It's gone through some big changes, but I'm proud of it. And EVEN BETTER is that I've teamed up with @eliza-faust-diary, who has created an amazing piece of art to go with it! I'm itching for y'all to see it! So I'll get off my soapbox LOL. Make sure you guys check out the MirSan Collection on AO3 and everything posted from @dayofmirsan​! 

Thanks to the mods for setting this up!

Summary: Miroku Kibe has been irrevocably in love with Sango Tanaka for years. His fear of rejection has always kept him from attempting to get to know her, but when he finds her all by herself at an engagement party, will Miroku take the chance he's given and talk to her?

Read on AO3 and FFN

"So anyways, we didn't find our way back home until the next morning, and we still never found her shoes again!"

Miroku attempted a heartfelt chuckle. Apparently, the last bit of her story was supposed to be some big finale, or a play on words, or an inside joke that he wasn't part of? To be honest, he hadn't been paying all that much attention. He had been trying to find a way out of the conversation for quite a while, but the girl in question ('Is her name Yuki? No….Yuca…..or is that the vegetable?') seemed to talk a mile a minute. And there had been no shortage of stories to tell, much to his disappointment.

"Well…" Miroku stuttered, trying to spit out a sentence that didn't involve trying to figure out her name. "I think I see….I'm just gonna….head over there."

It was probably the flimsiest getway he had ever used on a girl, but his brain felt like mush after sitting through too many of her idiotic stories, and Miroku desperately needed to isolate himself. There was only so much socializing he could do in one night and he didn't want to use up all the energy he could spare for some random girl he cared nothing for.

Miroku walked over to the kitchen and pulled out a fresh beer from the fridge. After taking a generous first sip, he lightly leaned back on the countertop and looked out into the living room. The kitchen was designed with an open room concept, with only a small bar separating it from the living room. From his spot, Miroku could oversee the rest of the party guests mingling throughout the apartment.

He recognized a couple of faces that he might have seen around campus over the years, but for the most part found himself amongst a crowd of people of which he didn't have an inkling of who they were. It didn't bother him much though, not when he could hear Kagome's boisterous laugh from across the living room. He let a small smirk don his face as he once again raised his drink to his lips for another sip.

Today was Inuyasha and Kagome's engagement party.

Miroku normally didn't go to shindigs like this, but over the past couple of years, Kagome had grown to be a very good friend of Miroku's, and he wanted to support her in any way he knew how. That, and Inuyasha practically begged him to come.

Engagement parties were not Inuyasha's thing. Parties in general would tend to put him in a foul mood, and Inuyasha did whatever he could to worm his way out of attending one. But all Kagome needed to do was give Inuyasha those big, soulful, puppy dog eyes of hers, and the next thing you know, he was front and center for the biggest event of the year - until the wedding that is.

Inuyasha didn't have many friends, at least not friends that he could proudly call his own. Most of the partygoers were mutual friends of both Inuyasha and Kagome, but Miroku knew that they only came to be on friendly terms with the surly hanyou because of his bubbly, outgoing fianceé.

Miroku's friendship with Inuyasha also fell under that category. He met Kagome during his  internship at her family's shrine a few years ago - even though they all went to high school together - where they became fast friends due to Kagome's friendly personality, which of course led him to also becoming friends with her boyfriend-now-fiance - but Miroku could say with confidence that his friendship with Inuyasha had grown to something bigger than just being acquainted through Kagome.

Which was still a wild concept for Miroku to grasp. Miroku wouldn't say he was introverted, but he mostly liked to keep to himself. He was an only child to a set of parents who died when he was young, putting him under the guardianship of an old family friend - Mushin. Mushin did his best to raise Miroku, but he didn't really have a great idea about what it was like to raise a child, and Miroku learned early on it was better to grow up than just acting like the child he was.

In the end, Miroku had a hard time relating to most kids his age. He didn't watch the same type of television shows, play games, or collect action figures like the boys he grew up around. Others found him...intimidating, which led to a lonely childhood. But as the years went by, Miroku found that he began to care less and less about the whispered gossip that followed him as he grew up.

Miroku knew Inuyasha also had a rough childhood; perhaps that was the reason they gravitated to each other so easily. Not that they talked about it all that much. That was the great thing about their friendship, it didn't require a lot of talking.

His friendship with Kagome gave him enough of that. That girl really knew how to talk.

Miroku was shaken from his thoughts as Inuyasha sidled up to him, jabbing his fist into his shoulder lightly before leaning up against the countertop beside Miroku, his own drink in hand. "So, have you grown the balls to go talk to her yet, or are you gonna hide in my kitchen all night?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, my friend," Miroku answered, keeping his eye contact on anything but the hanyou beside him.

Because it was a lie. Miroku knew exactly who Inuyasha was talking about.

Sango Tanaka.

Miroku had been in love with her for years. Practically all his life if he was dramatic about it.

Miroku first met Sango when they were in high school. She was a "rough and tough" type of girl, known to play a variety of sports, depending on the season, and trained in a number of martial arts. Her family came from a long line of tajiya, and that was a title she wore proudly. Sango was loud, and opinionated, and didn't take anyone's shit. She never failed to go after what she wanted, and she gave it her all every time.

She was everything Miroku wasn't, and funnily enough, she was everything Miroku ever could have wanted.

He still remembered the first time he had ever laid eyes on Sango. It was the first day of high school, and Miroku had just walked into his history classroom. There had still been ten minutes before the bell was scheduled to ring, signaling everyone to start making their way to their first class of the day. Miroku always liked getting to his classes as early as possible so he could get the best seat.

When he was in middle school, he would always be the first one to enter the classroom, but not this day. Sitting in the front row was a girl, enraptured in a small paperback book. Long, velvet brown hair that went halfway down her back. She wore a faded pink long sleeved shirt that accentuated the natural muscle of her arms, and when she turned around to stare him down with those hazel eyes, Miroku was sure he stopped breathing. 

She was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. Miroku didn’t know how long he had been standing there staring at her. It wasn't until she gave him a simple greeting that Miroku snapped himself back to reality. He responded with a small greeting of his own, choosing the seat right behind her. At that moment, Miroku knew she'd be the only girl for him.

They spent the rest of the time together in companionable silence. Soon enough, the bell rang and slowly students started trickling into the classroom. She didn't seem to have any friends in this class, which was all the better for Miroku. It felt like he could have a part of her without having to share with anyone else.

She didn't speak to him again after that first day. Several times, Miroku had attempted to work up the courage to talk to her - about anything - but he chickened out every time, and his fear of her reaction to him only grew worse as the years went by. The more he looked on at her life from the background, the more intimidated he was of her. Yet, it only made his fondness for her grow.

She was spunky. By the time they ended their first year, it was known throughout the school that Sango was not a girl to be trifled with. The biggest factor in that perception of her was the fight that year between Sango and another girl - Aki was her name? The girl in question was a real piece of work; generally thought of as "popular", but really, that was just a code word for the term "bitch". Miroku hadn't been there to personally see it, but the rumor was that Aki had been bullying another girl - a transfer from a religious school in the next city over - and ended up in a fist fight with Sango. Aki threw the first punch, but Sango made sure she'd throw the last, while simultaneously making sure everybody understood that bullies at Hiro High wouldn't be tolerated. 

She was given a week's suspension for her part in the fight, but she ended up making a life-long friend in the girl she had defended, Kagome Higurashi. They were inseparable ever since.

Sango's sense of loyalty was both something that Miroku had a hard time grasping, yet something he desperately wanted from her. Despite his sometimes asocial mannerisms, Miroku hadn't been a loner in high school; he had his own small group of friends he would sit with at lunch, or work with on group projects. The term 'friends', though, seemed a little much to define the relationships he held with those people. 'Acquaintance' was a better term. They might all shoot the shit together every now and then, but he never let his guard down around any of them.

The Miroku Kibe that they knew was a fake, hidden by a well tailored mask. His friends were nice enough people, and it wasn't lost to Miroku that they trusted him enough with some of their deeper thoughts. But no matter how much he wanted to let them into his own heart, he always managed to pull back at the last second, placing another wall between himself and the world.

Miroku fantasized about letting Sango be the person to break all his walls. He was certain if anyone could do it, she could.

But there had never been a chance for them, Miroku's own cowardice made sure of that. Instead, he sat on the sidelines, watching Sango and Kagome grow into close friends. Eventually their group of two turned into three when Kagome introduced Sango to Inuyasha. He was the "new kid" their second year of high school, and Kagome had been tasked with showing him around and making sure he felt "welcomed".

Of course 'welcomed' meant showing the new kid where the lunchroom was and where the best junk food machines were, not getting caught making out in the janitors closet, but to each his own, you know?

And yet, here he was, almost eight years since their sophomore year, attending Kagome and Inuyasha's engagement party. Honestly, it had been of no surprise to Miroku to hear about their engagement. Inuyasha and Kagome were your textbook definition of "high school sweethearts". If Miroku believed in the whole "soulmate thing",  he’d describe them as just that. They were polar opposites, like fire and ice. Inuyasha, the grumpy hanyou, and Kagome, the sweet girl next door.

Sometimes, Miroku could just gag from the cuteness of it all.

The couple that had been conversing with Kagome in the living room finally moved away, giving both Miroku and Inuyasha a clear view of the sliding glass doors that led out to the patio. Standing by herself, gazing out at the city below, was Sango. She was wearing a striped magenta shirt, the same color she wore on the day they met, with a pair of forest green pants. Even without all glittery jewelry or immaculate dresses, Sango was still the most beautiful woman at the party.

It was the perfect opportunity for Miroku to finally talk to her. All he had to do was walk up to her and start a conversation; nothing flashy or flirty, just small talk. He'd been doing it all night with random girls who felt the need to invade his personal space, so this should be easy.

The golf ball lodged in Miroku's throat said otherwise, as Miroku nearly choked on the beer he was drinking at the mere thought of trying to talk to her.

"Dude, you're being pathetic," Inuyasha said. Miroku finally turned his way to glare at him, but Inuyasha merely scoffed at him. "Don't give me that look, you haven't heard a single word I've said, too busy in la la land thinking about Sango."

"And how long did it take for you to propose to Kagome?" Miroku tried to circumvent the conversation away from himself, but Inuyasha was far too stubborn to let Miroku off the hook.

"Nuh uh, don't even try and compare us, it's not the same thing and you know it."

"Inuyasha - "

"Look, we both know that Sango is going to end up being Kagome's maid of honor, and if I'm being honest, you're the only person I would trust to be my best man."

Miroku was taken aback by Inuyasha's statement. Being a best man….It was a role he didn't think he'd ever really get to play. He never let anyone in deep enough for their first thought of the person who would play a pivotal role in something as important as a wedding to be Miroku. Inuyasha refused to look at him now, obviously embarrassed at such a display of emotion.

"I...would be honored to be your best man, Inuyasha," Miroku said slowly, almost in a hushed whisper. This felt like such an intimate moment for them, and Miroku did not wish to share it with anyone who could easily eavesdrop on their conversation.

"Keh, whatever." Miroku wanted to chuckle at his abrupt change in demeanor. Perhaps this is why they could work so well as friends; while others might be put off by Inuyasha's rough temperament, Miroku was always able to let his constant mood swings slide right off his shoulders.

"Anyways, with that being said, you and Sango will have to see a lot of each other to help out with this damn wedding, and I need you with your best foot forward," Inuyasha stepped around him to grab two unopened beers from the fridge. He took the half empty drink currently in Miroku's hand and replaced them with the unopened beers.

"Don't fuck this up," was the last thing Inuyasha told him as he turned away from him to walk back towards Kagome, leaving Miroku to stand by himself in the kitchen holding two cold beer cans. The cans began to sweat from the change in temperature, causing Miroku to grip them tighter so that they wouldn't slide right out of his hands.

Miroku could feel his body start to perspire. He could only hope that the purple t-shirt he donned for tonight would be dark enough to hide the sweat stains that he was sure would start to show up under his arms. Miroku swallowed the lump in his throat, and after a deep inhale and exhale, started making his way across the apartment.

'Hello, my name is Miroku? And you are?' No, that's too forthcoming, he could be more suave then that. 'Ahh Sango. It's such a beautiful night out, would you care for a beverage?' Ugh, somehow that almost sounded worse than the first one. 'I love you, please bear my children!'

Miroku stopped just before the sliding glass doors and mentally slapped himself. He needed to keep his wits about him! Miroku was a handsome, cool guy; talking to a beautiful woman like Sango should be as normal as breathing. He could strike up a simple conversation with her, right?

For Inuyasha. And Kagome.

And for himself.

Miroku could feel and see the slight trembling of his hand as he used the two pointer fingers of his right hand to slide the door open. It was a cool night, and Miroku was greeted with a crisp breeze. He greedily inhaled the clean breeze that carried wafts of patchouli to his nose. Gods, she was his favourite scent.

Sango didn't seem to hear him enter the balcony, or at least if she did she had yet to make a move to see who was disturbing her peace.

'Oh god, what if she wants to be alone and I'm just here to annoy her?' 

Miroku shoved his negative thoughts aside, determined to give her a good impression of himself. He stretched his neck from one side to the other, cracking it a little to release some tension as he took that one last step towards her, his back straightened but not locked up, his head held high in an attempt to look calm and aloof.

And then he fell.

He fell. 

A weirdly high pitched yelp erupted from his throat as his feet twitched and scuffed across the cement floor of the balcony, pushing his body too far forward for his feet to catch. What sort of loser trips over his own feet? All he had to do was take one small step and he would have been golden. Instead, he was slowly tripping over his own two fucking feet, still keeping hold of the two beer cans, as if their presence was actually important in the grand scheme of things. The only thing that could have been worse would be to face plant right on her bountiful breasts.

Which he fucking did.

Miroku was sure he had never been so embarrassed in his entire life. It wasn't as if Miroku hadn't dreamt of this moment - nuzzling his nose in the warmth of her soft skin, peppering her bare chest with tiny butterfly kisses. But this wasn't a dream, it was reality, and Miroku's reality included him basically motorboating a woman who he didn't know personally and didn't know him on a very public apartment balcony.

'Just fucking kill me now…'

Miroku tried to lift himself up as quickly as he could. He really did, but for some reason he just couldn't let go of those damn beer cans. He clutched them as if they were his lifelines, putting more and more of his full weight on the woman under him. Luckily, due to all her training, Sango could probably lift two of Miroku, and was able to help steady him.

"Oh my gosh, are you okay?!" She exclaimed, unfazed by where his head had been and more concerned about his own wellbeing. She had taken his face in both hands, trying to assess if he had taken any injuries.

"Uhhh…" Say something you fool! Miroku's head felt fuzzy with her face so close to his. He tried to tell her he was okay, perhaps impart a most fervent apology on landed directly on her chest, but he couldn't seem to form a coherent sentence no matter how hard he thought about it. He had never been so close to her to take in the gold flecks that made her cinnamon eyes sparkle, and he was quickly becoming lost in them. 

Instead, he belted out a cracked, "Beer?", still holding on to those damn cans.

Miroku hoped the ground would open up a portal to hell and drag him into it at this point. There was no way she'd want anything to do with him after this fiasco of a first encounter. Well, technically their second encounter. Either way, Miroku was fucked.

He thought that anyways, until he heard her chuckle, her lips turned up in a soft smile. She acted like he said something funny, not in a 'I'm laughing at you' way, but a 'wow you're funny' kind of way.

It was like music to his ears.

"A beer sounds good right now, thank you," she said, taking one of the beer cans out of his hands once he was steady on his feet. Miroku couldn't believe it, he was doing it! He was actually having a conversation with her! She wasn't rejecting him and accepted his offering of having a drink together! Even though he made a total fool of himself, nearly launching himself and the drinks off the balcony…..launching the drinks….The drinks….

THE DRINKS.

"Wait, Sango don't - "

It was too late. Miroku had been too far in his own thoughts to think about the fact that he had shaken up the carbonated alcoholic beverages quite a bit during his tumble, and Sango had already flipped the tab into the aluminum can. The next few seconds felt like forever, played in slow motion. The can let out a faint hiss before a small geyser of beer exploded upward, the can continuing to overflow with foam. Sango let out a small shriek, covering her face as best she could as she became drenched in beer.

Miroku stood there, still as a statue, as he watched streams of beer slowly trickle down her face. Their movements had a soft quality to it, as if they were caressing the soft lines of her cheek, gliding down the line of her nose and outlining her plump lips.

It was downright cruel how turned on he could get in a situation that was probably embarrassing for Sango. He should be doing something, like running inside to grab her a towel or asking her if she was okay. Instead, he was staring - no, leering - at her like some kind of pervert.

The thought was enough to break Miroku from his thoughts. He had a reputation for being a lecher amongst the ladies, but that was a persona he didn't want associated with Sango. After all, she wasn't just any woman; she was someone he could see spending his life with. Which he actively did.

He lurched forward slightly, still unsure of exactly what he should be doing for her, but unwilling to just stand there. There was a small table with a couple of chairs pushed to the right side of the balcony. Miroku threw the arm that held his own beer in that direction, intending on setting it down to cover all his attention on her. Unfortunately, he wasn't paying enough attention to the can to make sure it was set on the table properly. 

The can slipped from his hands, slowly making its descent, past the edge of the table, and straight for the ground. 

Miroku barely heard the plonk of the can hitting the ground, nor the hissing that came right before the can exploded, twirling along the ground at their feet, covering them both with the sticky liquid.

In a feat that would have made the soccer team at their high school proud, Miroku used the side of his foot to kick the can straight through a gap in the bars of the balcony. The can continued to spew beer through the air as it made its descent onto an unsuspecting car parked on the opposite side of the street, the sickening crunch of the can cracking the windshield echoing off the walls of the buildings on either side of the road.

He didn't know what would have been worse, letting the can continue to douse them with beer or vandalize an automobile. Either way, he only hoped some God would have pity on him and allow the Earth to swallow him whole. 

Of course, he could never be so lucky.

"Oh my...I am so sorry, let me get you a towel!" He said, spinning in place and practically barrelling through the sliding glass door.

It seemed like no one else in the apartment had any clue what transpired outside, too busy with the jovial nature of celebrating the engagement of two young people in love. It gave Miroku a small bit of relief, knowing that Sango was free from the embarrassment that came with the snickers and stares of being laughed at. 

It wasn't enough to steady his shaking hands as he began rummaging through Kagome's kitchen cupboards, trying to find something big and deep enough to fill with water. Three cupboards in, Miroku found a large mixing bowl and began filling it with water, searching through more drawers to find the kitchen towels, practically grabbing the whole stack once he found them. Once he had everything, he carefully made his way through the crowd of people. By now, he started to receive a few weird looks from anyone who bothered to look towards him as he passed by, but no one tried to stop him or ask about what he was doing.

He ignored it all in favor of the woman standing outside. She was fiddling with the ends of her blouse that now clung to her form from the stickiness of the beer. He awkwardly pinched his knuckle before reaching for the door in an attempt to keep his eyes looking anywhere but her body. This was absolutely not the time for his philandering ways to make this woman hate him more than she probably does already. He could see the small movements of her shoulders as she shivered when a quick breeze hit her, and any lecherous thoughts he might have had drifted away as guilt began to constrict his chest.

This was obviously a sign that they were never meant to be. How could a sophisticated and beautiful woman like Sango be interested in a schmuck like Miroku? The man couldn't even do something as simple as handing her a can of beer, how was he supposed to take care of her?

Not that she'd want him to take care of her, or needed anyone to do so. She was strong, and smart, and so fucking talented; she could do anything she set her mind to. Miroku could only hope to be even half the person she was, and a woman like Sango didn't mingle with people as lame as Miroku.

He carefully made his way through the back door, immediately set the bowl of water and towels onto the small table sitting off to the side and pulled the chair out for Sango to sit in.

"I-I brought a bowl of warm water and some towels to wipe the beer off with. Here, you can sit here. If you want to anyways, or you can stand if that makes you feel more comfortable or…." Miroku turned his body away from hers, grimacing as his tongue continued to word vomit in front of her. He couldn't believe he was still finding new ways to completely embarrass himself in front of her.

But instead of a stern glare or a heated comment about him, he was greeted with a small but warm chuckle.

"Thank you," she smiled at him, taking the offered seat and one of the dry towels, submerging it into the water and wringing it out.

He couldn't stop from staring at her, watching the way the muscles in her hands grew taut as she squeezed the towel, or the way a few errant droplets of water would cascade down her arms as she rubbed the towel into her skin.

She was truly gorgeous. The setting sun made her positively glow, her freshly cleaned skin gleaming when the light hit it just right. She sighed contentedly as she continued to wash away the sticky substance, paying extra attention to her face and chest. Miroku pulled up the other chair and fumbled with one of the dry towels, keeping himself too busy to notice the way she ran the damp towel over her collarbones. The towel wasn't squeezed out as much this time around, and it was almost painful for Miroku to watch as several small rivulets of water ran down her shirt, molding around the tops of her breasts.

The sound of the water splashing as she dunked the towel back in acted like a slap to the face, reminding him he needed to keep his eyes to himself. Instead, he submerged his own dry towel halfway so that he could wipe off his own beer soaked skin.

"You seem familiar,"

Miroku paused. Despite the fact they were both sitting together, he hasn't expected her to want to talk with him. It was a question disguised as a statement, one that he wasn't quite sure how to answer. Not in a way that wouldn't make him seem like a stalker, anyways.

"I believe we went to the same high school,"

"You went to Hiro High, too? What a small world," she chuckled as she continued to stare at him. Her eyes widened slightly as a thought seemed to pass by the forefront on her mind. "Wait...didn't we have a class together?"

'Several,' was the first response to come to mind, but he didn't want to make it seem like he was keeping any sort of tabs on her over the years.

"Yes, I believe so. That's where I recognized Kagome when we first met,"

Miroku could feel himself beginning to sweat under her vigilant gaze. 

"History,"

A confused look sprawled across his face. "Come again?"

"That's where I recognize you from. Freshman year. You were the kid that got to class almost as early as me,"

Miroku was stunned. They had shared a small handful of classes together over their high school years, but the one that stuck out the most for her was first period history during their freshman year? That was nearly ten years ago!

"Uhh….y-yes. With Mr. Myoga,"

"Sometimes, I don't know how we made it through that class," she laughed, remembering the long mornings of boring anecdotes and not enough energy to spare between the class.

"Well, someone as….aged, as Mr. Myoga had many stories to tell about the vibrant history of Japan," Miroku's lips curved up slightly. One of the benefits of being a flea youkai was living through each monumental event that made up the history of Japan. Although his method of teaching it was...lacking.

"He made the topic so boring! He preferred listening to the sound of his own voice more than actually teaching us about the subject. Honestly, it should be illegal to hold such a boring class that early in the morning."

"Fewer words could be truer," Miroku grinned, delighting in the easy smile that steadily grew on her face. She was so beautiful when she smiled. The edges of her lips almost seemed to touch the wrinkles around her eyes as she smiled, small dimples becoming noticeable on her cheeks as she talked.

It was obvious that Sango lived a very happy and joyous life.

"So, what's the story with you and Kagome? How'd you meet?"

Miroku never expected for Sango to take control of the conversation like she did. He expected that he would be the one to ask her a litany of dumb, intrusive questions about their friends engagement, the weather, or how her day had gone. And she would smile politely at him as he rambled, giving him simple, flat answers in an attempt to humor him.

Instead, she barrelled through, asking him a variety of simple 'get to know you' questions - What did you major in? Where do you work? What's your favorite color? Pepsi or Coke? - with the perfect opportunity for Miroku to turn the question back on her as soon as he answered. Perhaps she could sense how nervous he was around her. It was definitely easier than Miroku doing it all on his own, that's for sure.

It wasn't long before the both of them were laughing and joking around with each other. Part of him couldn't believe how easy it was to talk to Sango, although it wasn't a huge surprise. Miroku found practically every aspect of her life interesting and would gladly sit and converse with her for hours - eternity if she'd let him.

There was one thing he had to know; was she dating someone? It would be a devastating blow if she was, but after getting to know her for just a little bit, Miroku knew he needed her in his life. Even if he couldn't have her the way he truly wanted her.

Now all he needed to do was come up with a way to ask her that wasn't creepy or weird. Or intrusive.

'Just act….natural…'

"So, how have you and your date enjoyed the party so far?"

Nice. Smooth and natural.

"Oh, I didn't come here with anyone," she responded hesitantly.

"My apologies! I didn't mean to assume,"

"It's okay, I understand," Sango smiled, although it didn't shine through her eyes like before. She turned her attention to something off in the distance, wringing her hands together in her lap. Miroku suddenly felt a little selfish bringing the subject up at all.

"I hope I didn't upset you somehow. I swear on my father's grave that was never my intention,"

"What? Oh, no!" Sango turned back to him with wide eyes. "I didn't think that at all! It's just…" She looked away again, staring intently at her hands folded in her lap. "It's just...sort of a touchy subject for me right now. I've not had the best luck in the dating circuit,"

"Forgive me Sango, I have a hard time believing a woman as beautiful as you has a hard time getting anything she wants,"

Miroku's statement caused a pink blush to cover her cheeks.

"Yeah, well, that's just the problem, isn't it?" Sango mumbled. Miroku kept silent, watching the indecision flash across Sango's face, either caused by her deliberating her next words or whether or not she wanted to say something at all.

She looked up at him next, face still a little pink from embarrassment, yet she looked up at him with an air of determination. Her eyes were hard and resolute, but Miroku could see the tenderness behind it all.

"Most of the guys I've dated think I'm too assertive."

Miroku was unsurprised by this, but a part of him still had a hard time believing such a thing could be said about Sango. Her assertiveness was something to be cherished, not looked down upon.

"Sounds like most guys are just too insecure to handle you,"

Sango let out a small breath of laughter. "I'm sure they would all balk at the insinuation that they have crippling male egos. Much easier to dump me and go about their lives,"

"Well, that's just their loss, isn't it?"

Sango couldn't help but lock eyes with the mysterious man sitting next to her. She had heard that phrase before from a variety of people. It was always someone else's loss when she was kicked to the curb, and it always made her so angry whenever she heard it. It certainly never seemed like it was a loss to them; if anything, they acted better off. People usually said that to her in a veiled attempt to comfort her, knowing it was because of her own temperament that they left.  

Sango always had quite the mouth on her, and unless she could learn to tame it, no man would give her any time of day.

Yet, she didn't get the same vibes from Miroku. He seemed truly genuine when he said it was their loss. As if it was better for her to be her rude, straight to the point, brash self instead of the meek, silent woman in the background most men wanted her to be.

Sango was truly intrigued by this man.

She wasn't lying when she said she remembered him from their shared history class. Although, he had been more of a background character in the story of her life. She could recall them sharing a few classes over the years, and she had heard through the grapevine that he was sort of a ladies man, but they effectively went different ways after high school, and Sango pushed back any thoughts of him to the back of her mind.

Then one day, he was suddenly thrust back into her life via her best friend since forever, Kagome.

It was nice to know that Kagome had a friend she could talk to about her work. Sango was the dutiful best friend, always giving Kagome the time and attention she deserved as she talked about her day, but oftentimes Kagome would get caught up in the history of an artefact or a traditional dance, which was likely to go right over Sango's head. Miroku became a sort of conduit for Kagome's ramblings, saving Sango from having to pretend to be as knowledgeable about the subject as Kagome, or ask a million questions.

It was a friendship that blossomed over the years, as they do when Kagome is involved. Kagome's stories started to involve more of Miroku and less of work, eventually even adding Inuyasha to the mix. Yet, despite all the talk, Sango had yet to meet the famed 'Miroku'.

Kagome always said good things about him. He was quiet with an old soul. He had far more wisdom than most people his age and he never backed down at lending out a helping hand. A real gentleman.

Inuyasha's only helpful comments on the subject were that he was a 'lecherous monk'.

Which led to some confusing ideas about the man.

She still wasn't sure what to think about him. She could tell he was nervous; it was cute, the way he stuttered and rambled. And despite the rumors of him being a ladies man, he never seemed to ogle her or make her feel uncomfortable - despite literally landing his face in her chest. Their conversations so far had been easy and fun, something she really hadn't felt with another person in quite a long time.

Miroku was in heaven. He didn't think he could ever tire of talking to her, or listening to her talk about anything. She was funny, able to pull a joke out of the most basic of topics. And opinionated. Miroku was always up for a good debate, and he was sure Sango could give him a run for his money.

He didn't know how much time had passed as they stared at one another, probably only minutes yet it felt like hours. There was a heat developing between the two - not a smouldering heat, like the sun, that enveloped your whole body, but a soft warmth, like a candle, that started in the tips of the fingers, working its way slowly up the arms to take root in the chest. She just...looked him up and down with those wide cinnamon eyes, not in a lewd way, but with a sense that he was something new, something she had never seen before.

Once again, Miroku was stunned by her beauty. She truly was a goddess among mortals. Was it considered excessive the amount of times he obsessed over her looks? Possibly, but Miroku didn't care. Sango was a woman deserving of unbridled attention.

This was it. This was his in. He was gonna be confident and suave and somehow convince her to go on a date with him. He was going to use everything he learned from all the women he's been with and use it for good. For Sango.

"Sango, I - "

"Hey you two!" The raucous sounds of the party inside became louder as someone Miroku didn't recognize leaned their head outside. "It's time to toast the newly engaged couple!" And without another look back, they disappeared back inside, leaving the door wide open for them to follow.

Miroku could have screamed.

Why couldn't anything go right when it came to Sango? Their whole ambiance was ruined now. She was distracted by the party inside, and now there was even more of a chance someone will try and come outside.

"Well, I guess we should be getting back inside," Sango sighed, slowly pushing her chair back to stand up.

"Sango, wait!" Miroku leapt to his feet. He just needed one more minute with her! He didn't want this opportunity to go to waste. "I-I'd really like to see you again. Can..I..can I get your number? You know, we can...make plans or...something."

Well, it wasn't his best bit of courting, but it was better than being a coward and not talking to her, he supposed. And if she said no? At least he would have a definite answer.

She looked at him for another moment before giving him a soft smile. "I'd like that," she said, holding her hand out for his phone. 

Miroku scrambled for the device sitting in his front pocket, unlocking it and bringing up a 'New Contact' screen before holding it out to her with shaky hands. She tapped away, keeping the screen close to her face. She kept the phone to her face for a good amount of time, longer than she needed to if she was just putting her contact information. She pulled out her own phone from her pocket and waited for it to vibrate with a notification before closing out his own phone and handing it back to him.

"I'll see you around, Miroku?" Sango asked, so innocently yet Miroku we sure there was a layer of seduction there.

In a last ditch attempt to be anything but the loser he felt he had been all night, Miroku responded with confidence. "I look forward to it, my dear Sango,"

Sango departed after that, not before giving him a once over with her eyes and sporting what Miroku would describe as a 'devilish' grin.

That one look would carry Miroku into the next year, he was sure of it.

Miroku became deaf and blind when it came to the party inside, opening his phone back up and going straight to his messaging app. There would be time later for him to memorize her number - you know, just in case he accidentally lost it before they could set up a date - but he was curious to see what she texted to herself.

He expected to see 'Sango Tanaka' as the subject line, but was surprised to see a different name under the most recent message:

Slayer🍑😘

[Sent @ 6:15 PM] Next Friday, 7PM, Tanaka Dojo 📿

There was….much for Miroku to unpack here. The first of which was the nickname she gave herself. It was well known that the peach emoji was frequently used to represent one's derriere. Was her choice to use that particular emoji a coincidence, or was she privy to the fact that Miroku was indeed an ass man?

Especially when it came to Sango's gloriously toned and plump backside.

Miroku could have written an entire dissertation on why Sango chose that nickname if he had the time. Instead, he gravitated towards the message she sent herself. Normally people sent little one word messages, just enough to bridge the gap between cellular devices. Instead, it looked like Sango set up the details for their first date.

Their first date.

Just thinking those three little words left him feeling giddy, his heart pumping so heavily in his chest, Miroku could practically see the organ trying to rip itself from its fleshy prison. 

Miroku finally looked up from his phone and gazed inside at the party. Just like earlier, the crowd of guests inside parted in just the right way so that he had a perfect view of Sango. She was leaning backwards against the kitchen counter, cradling a slender glass of something bubbly - probably champagne. She was standing by herself, a gentle smile on her face as she watched everyone gather around the Kagome and a slightly nervous looking Inuyasha.

It was like looking at a freshly finished puzzle. Every piece meticulously placed in just the right way, resulting in a release of endorphins just by looking at the fruits of one's hard work.

Sango was his puzzle.

There were still a few pieces to put together here and there, but the hard part was over with. Now was the time for Miroku to take those few random puzzle pieces and finish his work of art.

A life with Sango.

Perhaps he was a tad crazy for having such strong emotions for this woman, but who was he to argue with the pounding of his heart whenever he saw her picture or the butterflies in his stomach whenever she spoke. If his feelings for her were wrong, then he didn't want to be right. He would show them all that Miroku Kibe and Sango Tanaka were meant to be together.

Miroku closed his phone and shoved it into his pocket, resolute in the path he was about to take. Despite the loud, raucous energy of the crowd inside, Miroku could feel several pairs of eyes on him as he made his way inside. Not too long ago, Miroku might have been put off by the interfering actions of his friends, but now he could only feel thankful for them. Thankful that they would let him share even a smidgen of their spotlight, even just between the three of them.

The sounds of the crowd, the eyes of his curious friends, he ignored them all in favor of the woman standing by herself in the kitchen as he walked towards the bar to grab his own glass of already poured champagne. Sango looked up in his direction as he approached and offered him a warm smile. Miroku simply smiled back, leaning back against the kitchen counter beside her. 

Sango deserved to have someone to stand by her - whether it be at the store or waiting for the bus, through bad times and good times, even at your best friends engagement party. And Miroku was going to be the one to do just that.

Because she was just the girl he had been looking for.

[ezrasarm]

Come Back To Me In Waking Dream

[ Day 5 | Angstaggedon Masterlist ]

Pairing: Ezra x Reader

Word count: 2.4K

Summary: Torn apart by the forces of the universe, Ezra becomes a ghost of himself.

Warnings: ANGST, hints at depressive episodes and thoughts of death, more angst. This is not an uplifting story.

Credits: A huuuuuge thank you to @din-damn-djarin​​ and @chaotic-noceur​​ for beta reading and letting me use them as a human squash court for me to bounce my ideas off of! The title is inspired by a piece of poetry written by David Keenan that preludes his song “Full Stop” and I thought it fit just right.

A/N: Not to toot my own horn or anything but... I hope y’all brought tissues.

As with any line of work, the longer you’re in it, the smaller the world- or in this case, the universe- seems to become. You and Ezra had made a number of first encounters through your years working the aurelac business. It wasn’t glamorous by any means, no matter what the precious gem associated with it might suggest. The work was rough and often fruitless. But, on those rare occasions that you managed to find a sizeable deposit in those tangles of rhizomatic roots- provided you had the skill to extract them, one, without killing yourself, and two, without damaging the delicate bounty in the process- you could make quite the pretty penny off of it. And you could make it fast. It was part of what made the industry so cutthroat in the first place. It was also entirely the reason that making lasting relationships, business or otherwise, was nearly impossible for you.

Both Ezra and yourself had gotten into prospecting and harvesting aurelac even before the rush. It seemed like your timelines were interlinked. You couldn’t stop running into one another if you tried. You could recall quite vividly the first time you saw him. His rich smooth voice and exuberant charm were not things that detracted attention from him. So he was hard to miss in the small, dingy convenience store on the freighter back from the Bakhroma system. When you finally acquaintanced yourselves with one another quite sometime later, he insisted he had seen you around here and there long before that. You argued that he must have been mistaken because you couldn’t possibly have failed to notice him and that peculiar blonde patch in his hair. And that even if you did, you would have heard him coming even sooner. “That,” he said, “is not necessarily true.” But none the less you managed to crack him up. He’s had a soft spot for you ever since.

You had gotten to know each other pretty well through the many drinks you shared when you found yourselves on the same planet and the odd job you would work together in between. You now knew him well enough that if you were feeling bold you might venture to call him a friend. Perhaps even admit that at times you thought you could be a little more than that. Although you would never have the nerve to say it to his face.

Then he disappeared. One moment he was on The Pug scanning the boards, the next he was gone. Funnily enough, the job he managed to scrounge up was one you had been eyeing yourself. You got pulled away on a contract with an old client of yours to do some appraisals and he set off for this prospecting mission of his. He said it would take a week tops and that he had something he wanted to tell you when he got back. Then you never saw him again.

You see, Ezra had just been working up the courage to tell you how he felt. He swore the next time he saw you would be the day he told you he loved you. That you were the star of his dreams when he slept and the object of his reveries when he woke. That practically every moment of every day he spent away from you he was thinking about where you were or what you were up to. None of this stopped when his pod crash-landed on Bakhroma Green.

He just needed one more job to save up to take you out on Kamrea, your temporary home when you could afford to live there. He had this grand plan to woo you with a nice meal and a necklace made from a small aurelac crystal he had harvested on one of the first jobs you had worked together. He knew how hard you pushed yourself. You never gave yourself a break. He thought it would be nice to treat you to more than just a drink in a bar for once.

It was supposed to be a simple job. Prospect potential dig sites, maybe even harvest a little while he was at it, then get the hell out of there. But none of that happened. Instead, he got stranded on that godforsaken rock. It was years before anyone came to his rescue. He lost his arm somewhere along the way. A rogue thrower shot from a skittish young sater. He was normally quite conscious of staying out of their territory but with the seasons changing, foraging for food brought him out of his comfort zone. The resulting infection cost him his dominant hand.

But his physical injury was hardly the worst of his ailments on his extended visit to the Bakhroma moon. He was quite positive he was going insane hauled up in the damaged drop pod that only served as a reminder he wouldn’t be leaving the forest moon any time soon. As he quickly came to find, he and prolonged periods of time without human contact were not a good combination. While saters and other prospectors may have passed through every now and again, he often had enough trouble bargaining with them for his life, let alone a ride off the dumb rock. They never stuck around long and they certainly weren’t talkative. His mental health took a nosedive quite early on. He took to talking to himself, writing to keep his mind busy. At his worst, he could recall experiencing fits of hysteria and even hallucinations. He had the delirious diary entries to prove it.

It was around the time he lost his arm that he began to lose hope too. The longer he was stranded there, the more doubt that there would be any way out at all began to creep into his mind. There were some nights where the thought of seeing you again, brushing that rebellious strand of hair out of your face and pulling you into a long-awaited kiss, was the only thing that kept him going. He could still see your face. The upward quirk to your lip and the light graze of your hand against his as you passed him by in the hall on his way out. You were in some big rush as you always were. You assured him you would see him later. All he could think of was how wrong that assumption was now. He never could have imagined that would be the last time he saw you. And now here he was projecting phantom memories on the blank ceiling of the pod, cursing himself for not telling you what he should have the moment he knew. He refused to let himself die without letting you know how he felt. Maybe he would be able to rest easier if you knew.

For the first couple cycles you worried yourself sick. The risk associated with your field of work was not lost on you. He wouldn’t just leave you like that- he couldn’t. You wouldn’t let him. But years had passed. It soon came time for you to confront the acceptance of one of two realities: either he was dead, or he had abandoned you. The thought confused you. He wasn’t yours to be abandoned by and yet the resentment that came with it stung you just the same. You couldn’t tell which hurt you more but you knew you couldn’t sit around waiting for a dead man. And if he was alive, you refused to spend another second pining over a man who would up and leave you without so much as a goodbye. So you swallowed your yearning, the nag in your heart that clung to the hope he would still come back for you, and you moved on.

When Ezra got off the Green he hardly recognized himself anymore. His hair had grown shaggy despite his attempts to keep it under control, there were patches of grey in his dishevelled beard, his face had thinned, and those were just the physical changes. It was one of the last sling-backs before they killed the Central-BG line for good. A Kaslo Porting team, dropped to scavenge for old scraps and parts they could mark up and sell second hand, stumbled upon his pod. He was deathly frail when they found him. With his food supply having long since been depleted he had almost poisoned himself by mistaking a species of berry for its edible cousin in his desperation. If they hadn’t found him sooner, the doctors on board the freighter couldn’t see how he would have survived. He wound up hospitalized for weeks.

After all that time with just one thought on his mind, he knew he had to find you. Upon being discharged he searched high and low for you. He felt foolish checking all your old haunts. It had been so long. But he didn’t know where else to begin. He checked with mutual friends and old employers. They all seemed too surprised by being in the presence of a ghost to give him a straight answer.

He went to just about every place he could think of, asking your name as though it carried the same weight to everyone else as it did to him. He was sure he had searched every last corner of the galaxy. When he kept coming up empty he began to doubt whether you yourself were alive. It seemed like he was the only who knew who you were. It was like you didn’t exist. It was like you never had existed. He went so far as to question if he had made you up. If you were merely some fucked up defence mechanism manufactured by his brain to keep him hopeful. To keep him from giving up so long ago as he had been tempted to do. But he couldn’t bring himself to stop looking. That would be admitting something to himself that he would never be ready to. His head would perk up if through the chatter of crowded spaces he would hear a laugh similar to your own carry across the room. He would lose his place in conversations when he would see a flash of hair not unlike your own out of his peripheral vision.

Then one day he found himself back on The Pug, scanning the boards the exact same way he had been the first time he laid eyes on you. He wasn’t actively looking for you. No more than he always was. But sure enough there you were. Your arms crossed over your chest and your gaze tilted upward to read the job postings that flashed by not unlike flight numbers in an airport. You had matured a little. You wore your hair differently now. Shorter than he remembered but he liked it just the same. Your posture had changed too. You looked calmer, more confident and at ease as you watched the boards. Not tense and nervous as you used to be when you lived paycheck to paycheck, desperate for every opportunity you could leap at. Life had treated you well, he remarked to himself. As it should have. You looked just as beautiful as you were in that faded photograph of the two of you he carried everywhere with him. The same one he studied every night as he tried to fall asleep on those lonely nights on the Green.

He felt his heart leap in his chest when you turned in his direction, a graceful smile across your face and your arms outstretched. He felt the adrenaline kick in, like a jolt of electricity through his entire body. He realized then that he hadn’t moved since he had laid eyes on you, too startled by the long anticipated discovery to function. A hysterical grin had stretched across his face. He couldn’t believe he had finally found you. That you were there standing right in front of him after all he had been through trying to get back to you. He was just about to step towards you. To shout your name, take you in his arms and do what he should’ve done long before. That’s when a young tike, hardly three years old came darting past him, tripping over her own feet as she bumbled towards you at top speed.

Then it dawned on him. That smile? Those open arms? They weren’t for him.

You crouched and swept the child up in your arms, peppering her face with kisses as she giggled back at you. It was now that he could see the resemblance. The twinkle in the young girl’s eye and the way she threw her head back when she laughed were not foreign to him. A man he didn’t recognize came trotting after her, scooping her up from your embrace before leaning down and pressing a kiss to your lips.

It finally occurred to him why no one had recognized your name.

You looked happy. The smile on your face made his heart swell as he watched you from a distance. He only wished that he was the cause of it. The realization struck him that he could never be that for you. A husband. A father to your child. Even if he wanted to, years of breathing in toxic particles does things to a man. Now he was too late anyway. He had never wished so strongly that he hadn’t taken that job, that he hadn’t boarded that pod and set off to Bakhroma Green. Tears stung his eyes as he choked back the confession welling in the back of his throat. He couldn’t do that to you now. You deserved better than the trauma of a phantom walking back into your life after all this time. And stood there, every semblance of hope he had harboured since your fingertips slid off his own in that hallway shattered around his feet, he considered something. He should’ve let himself die on that rock. It would have been a more merciful death than the one he had just experienced as he watched the very dream that kept him alive all that time fall apart in front of him.

[ Angstageddon Masterlist | Ezra’s Arm Masterlist ]

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[saeyoungs-sunflower]

A Piece of You: Chapter 5

Pairing: Zen x MC

Synopsis: After the death of his sister, Zen is entrusted with raising her daughter. Six years later and MC has settled into RFA, but she just wants to be back on the roof with the love of her life like she was two years before. But dealing with teenage years, dragged out engagements and a lot of unsaid feelings, you start to lose a piece of you. Or, perhaps, find a piece you had that had been missing the whole time.

Warnings: References to alcohol/drinking.

Songs (a few today, it felt appropriate haha, also I figured out how to link to Spotify so there’s that):

Beautiful Mistake - Hudson Taylor

Even If It’s a Lie - Matt Maltease

Dancing On My Own - Callum Scott

⇦ Previous Chapter

***

It was only two years later when MC and Chul got engaged.

It was a beautiful proposal, they said. Filled with tears of joy, promises of devotion, a dazzling ring to solidify their commitment.

Everyone was expecting it, Zen was expecting it. He knew after the first six months that it would end up this way.

But it still hit him like an elbow to the gut.

Zen had had a lot of time to think over those two years. Gi had been discovered by a well-respected skating coach, and was spending most of her free time at the rink, leaving Zen at home with only his thoughts for company. He learnt a few things about himself.

Most prominently, he discovered that he was not, in fact, as naive as he convinced himself he was. It was, quite frankly, inappropriate how long he had revelled in his feelings but refused to even acknowledge their roots. It would become complicated, he told himself, if he dug a little deeper and fought a little harder. But now, things were more complicated than they ever have been, and then they ever would have been.

However, Zen didn’t remember exactly when he came to this realisation. Maybe it was after she surprised Gi during training when she knew she was having a hard week, or the hug she gave him on opening night, or when she called him and sobbed down the phone as she told him the ‘good news’…

Though, it didn’t matter when it happened, to be honest. All that mattered now was that he was sat alone at the bar, the sharp hiss of whiskey on his tongue as others sipped champagne behind him, cheering and congratulating the newly-engaged couple. He wanted, with every fibre of his being, to celebrate with them and to look her in the eye and say ‘I wish you the best, and I know he’ll make you happy’, but this was the most challenging role he had ever had to play, and he was too exhausted to rise to it. Zen didn’t want to play a side character in her life, he wanted to be her co-star, but he had missed the audition.

He took one more swig and was about to leave the bar when he heard a low, smooth voice from behind him.

“Leaving already?”

Zen had to bite his tongue to prevent him from shouting all kinds of profanities in the heir’s face. He swivelled in his chair to face the man who had just taken the seat next to him and was already ordering two more whiskeys. Zen wasn’t in the mood to argue, “Jumin, seriously, not right now. Lecture me tomorrow if you need to, whatever. But right now, leave me alone.”

“I’m not going to lecture you,” Jumin said easily, “I want to talk.”

“Oh yeah? What about.”

“About how your best friend is celebrating one of the best moments of her life, and you’re over here sulking.”

Zen was taken aback, but tried his best not to show it, “You don’t get it.”

“Yes, actually, I do.”

The older man turned in his chair slightly so he was fully facing Zen, but looking just behind him. Zen peered over his shoulder curiously, only to find MC, eyes sparkling and skin glowing as she chatted away to the rest of the group. He felt a pang of guilt, “What do you mean you do?”

Jumin sipped his whiskey and cleared his throat, “I’m not also half in love with her, if that’s what you’re worried about. But she is special to me, to all of us. The engagement also made us feel a sense of loss-”

“Grief, more like.”

“How can you be grieving when she’s never looked more alive?”

When Zen stayed quiet, Jumin continued, “I said I wouldn’t lecture you, and I won’t, but I want to offer my advice and help. No, let me finish. You are not the same man that joined the RFA all those years ago. You have a child, a career, and a whole lot of unresolved emotions and grief from family-”

“Are you really talking to me about unresolved emotions?!” Zen snapped.

“Not that that’s important, but you’re not the only one who’s been guided by MC,” Jumin said steadily, “But anyway, what I am saying is that I don’t blame you for not realising your feelings towards MC sooner, for not acknowledging that you are in lo-“

“Stop.”

Jumin sighed, “I don’t care what you have against me, but you are in the RFA and therefore you are a part of this family. I care about my family,” he placed his drink on the bar, “therefore I also care about MC. I don’t want you to make any rash decisions and confuse her.”

“So that’s what you wanted to talk to me about? I’m not gonna tell her how I feel, if that’s why you’re so concerned. Funnily enough, I also care about her. I’m not gonna do anything to jeopardise her happiness. You should know that.”

“I do know, and that’s not the only thing I wanted to tell you,” he paused, looking Zen directly in the eye, “V and I have been talking, and we’re worried about you. Both of us. You have a lot on your plate, Zen, and I want to help in whatever way I can. Whether Gi needs help funding her coaching, or you find yourself needing someone to confide in, you can call me and I’ll be there, no questions asked.”

Zen was silent for a moment, almost too stunned to form words, “Dude, where the hell did that come from?”

Jumin chuckled, “I have no idea. Maybe the atmosphere of the evening has made me sentimental. Or perhaps Yoosung’s lack of sobriety has kicked in some paternal instincts I didn’t know I had.”

Both the men laughed and swigged their drinks, before settling into a companionable silence. Zen looked over his shoulder once more, to find MC and Chul on the dance floor, holding each other close, joy evident and smiles in abundance.

Would she have chosen him? If he had acted sooner, stopped being an idiot sooner, would he have been the man to dance with her, rather than the man sat watching alone at the bar? The thought ate away at him, and it became too much, “I appreciate it, Jumin, and I know I’m being selfish but…but I still don’t think I can do this right now.”

Jumin nodded and set down his now empty glass, “I understand. I’ll tell MC you had an emergency call and Gi needed you home.”

“Thank you,” he paused, “I mean it.”

“You’re welcome. Again, if you need me, call. If I for some reason don’t pick up, call V. We’ll help you, no matter what.”

Zen nodded in recognition and made his way towards the exit. He’d need to move past the dance floor through a group of people, but the RFA group seemed fairly occupied with their own conversations, so Zen should be able to just slip-

“Hey! There you are!”

Zen was swivelled around by his shoulder and met with a pair of bright eyes, sparkling from the buzz but drooping slightly from the alcohol. She was still the most gorgeous thing he had ever laid eyes on.

“Where are you going? Are you feeling okay?”

And she had the most kind heart he had ever encountered. He wanted to scream. “I’m okay, MC, thank you. I just got a call from the babysitter, she said Gi needs me so I gotta run.”

“Oh, okay. Tell Gi I said hello, and I hope she’s alright…”

“I will, thank you. And…” he stared at her. He couldn’t do anything but look straight into her eyes as they watched him expectantly. Her hair fell so smoothly behind her bare shoulders, curling softly at the ends. She was ethereal, practically glowing from her joy. Her soul was always on display, yet she never wore her heart on her sleeve. She held everything that Zen had ever wanted and hid away everything he craved to discover, but he was too damn slow.

She cocked an eyebrow, curiosity and concern starting to flood her features, “Zen?”

Maybe he could ask for one dance, one last moment with just the two them, to have her in his arms one last time, like old times. Perhaps then she would see how he truly felt towards her, and perhaps she would decide that she wants him too. He would hold her, cherishing every breath she took and showing her the love she deserved. He could do that, it didn’t need to be Chul. He could be the one she wanted. He could be the one she chooses. Zen wasn’t ready to let go, and he might not have to.

But he looked back at her now, at the woman who already gave him the world. The one who stayed by him, who supported him, who wiped his tears and who treated Gi as if she were her own, giving her memories that she’ll cherish for the rest of her life. MC, the woman who appeared out of thin air and made him feel worth something more than he believed.

He was too young, too stupid, to see what was right in front of him before. And now, he was the one who went unseen. Where he saw colour, she now saw grey, and where he felt magic, she now felt nothing at all.

He wanted one last moment with her, but she was in love with someone else, and love looked too good on her.

I’m not gonna do anything to jeopardise her happiness.

He looked beyond MC and saw Chul, who was laughing along with Saeyoung and Yoosung, fitting in so well with the group that Zen spent the night avoiding. He also caught Jumin and V’s watchful eyes on him. He made his choice.

He looked her in the eye once again, “Congratulations, MC. I am so happy for you, truly. If anyone deserves this, it’s you. You look absolutely gorgeous tonight, Chul is a very lucky man. I wish you the best, and I know he’ll make you happy,” he leant down, placing a soft, chaste kiss on her cheeks, rosy from the champagne, now even rosier, “Goodbye, MC.”

Zen walked out the door, not giving himself the option of looking back. He wanted to miss seeing her bound back to her fiance, and miss seeing his hands placed on her waist and her lips on his. He wanted to miss seeing the one that got away being with the one who got her.

However, in his attempt to protect himself, he missed one very crucial detail, one specific pair of eyes, and the anger burning within them, the thoughts being formed behind them.

I see. Well, that just won’t do.

***

Gi was already in bed by the time Zen returned home. He excused the babysitter, paying her the promised amount despite his early return, and dragged himself to the couch. He sat down with a defeated sigh, staring up at the ceiling as his mind filled with noise. Nothing could be done. It wasn’t meant to be, and that was that. Tomorrow would be better. He prayed tomorrow would be better.

Just as his eyelids fell shut, he felt a dip in the couch next to him. Gi silently climbed onto his lap and curled up into his chest, and Zen instinctively wrapped his arms tightly around her small form, “Hey you, you should be in bed,” he whispered.

“Why are you sad?”

He brushed the wispy hairs away from her face, “What makes you think I’m sad?”

“You have your sad smell.”

Zen chuckled, his amusement genuine for the first time that evening, “Are you saying I smell bad? How rude. You’re the smelly one here.” When she didn’t smile, Zen felt his heart sink, “What do you mean by my ‘sad smell’?”

Gi pointed to his mouth, her eyebrows furrowed, “Your breath. When you go out at night and come back with that smell, it’s because you’re sad,” she paused, “I don’t like that smell.”

The whiskey. She was smelling the whiskey on his breath. Zen wanted to cry. In fact, he would have if he hadn’t blinked away the tears that threatened to surface, “I’m sorry, sweetie, I’m okay. I’m not sad.”

Gi didn’t look convinced, “Are you sure?”

“I have you, don’t I? What do I have to be sad about?”

Zen didn’t ever want to lie to Gi, but he gave himself the excuse that he was only half lying. Because yes, he was actually sad, but he knew he wouldn’t be forever. Gi was the single best thing in his life, and the only thing he needed. He was sad now, but tomorrow would be better. Any tomorrow with Gi in it was a tomorrow worth waiting for. For her, he needed to do better. He needed to make sure that ‘sad smell’ or anything of the like would never exist again.

When she fell heavy in his embrace, Zen carefully carried her up to her room. Placing her gently onto the mattress and bringing the blanket up to her chin, he kissed the top of her head and flicked off the light, waiting in the doorway for an extra moment.

This was all he needed. It was him and her now, father and daughter. His heart was full as long as she was there. As long as she stayed by his side.

As long as she didn’t stray from him.

As long as she didn’t become like him.

But no matter how much he denied it, there was a piece of her that grew stronger everyday. A piece of her that was, in fact, a piece of him. It was evident by the letters from teachers that sat on the kitchen table, the text messages he received from her coach when she didn’t turn up to practise, even when he had dropped her off; by the phone call from the police station when they caught her stealing an ice cream from the shop down the street, as a group of kids quietly ate theirs in the alley next to it.

As long as she didn’t become like him.

Though she was her father’s daughter, after all.

***

Masterlist || Next Chapter

[greenygreenland]

Birds of a Feather Pt 1: (platonic) Scrooge McDuck & Reader

-i usually do star wars buuuuuut I'm becoming multi-fandom

-the original was deleted

-thanks a LOT technology. Three hours of hard work, down the drain

-comments will really help my mood, so please tell me if you like this

-happy father's day

Important note: You’re cursed with immortality, so you’re forever the age 15

Summary:

Scrooge has been hiding a secret from you for over two decades. You two argue and your relationship becomes rocky.

A week before

(Y/n) was seething in anger. Her chest heaved and her fingers curled into fists so tight that Scrooge worried she’d draw blood. “Twenty--no, thirty something years, Uncle Scrooge. I can’t believe you’ve hid this from me since the day you found me half-dead! How--how dare you?” 

Scrooge couldn’t stand the way (Y/n) was looking at him. Her eyes were ablaze, filled with hatred and sorrow he could not place into words. Seeing (Y/n), the girl who wasn’t so little anymore, look at him like that made his battered heart burst into little pieces. “(Y/n), I didn’t mean to--”

“No, I don’t want to hear it! You told me my family was dead! You said that I was the only one who survived that assassination.” (Y/n) stuffed a pair of trousers into her suitcase and zipped it shut. “You lied to me for decades! Why?” Scrooge’s lips withered into a frown. “I was trying to protect you!”

“’Protect me’?” (Y/n) echoed. She heaved her suitcase onto its quad wheels with a scowl. “Oh yes, because the wee little duckling who knows martial arts needs help despite surviving countless near-death experiences, adventures as your side-kick, and defeating archenemies. Yes, yes, I’m powerless, aren’t I?” Scrooge’s brows knitted together. He knew full-well that (Y/n) could take care of herself. She survived being stuck on an island as well, being swallowed by a gold-hunting dragon, and so many other things that could have ended her life for good. 

But this? It wasn’t that Scrooge thought she was weak. No, no. It was only that he knew she couldn’t handle the truth. The Eider family were an absolute nightmare. Besides the fact that they were abusive, they were greedier than the greediest ducks, and more power-hungry than the worst of kings. They believed themselves to be the best of the best (which in itself was not a lie), but because of their arrogance, their enemies spread father than the deepest oceans.

Funnily enough, that was what got (Y/n)’s parents killed.

She was a smart lass, Scrooge gave her that, but the one thing she could never seem to do was let them go. During the years Scrooge hid the true story from her, she never gave up in researching and looking into what happened to her parents. It was as if that were the only reason she existed. 

And now that she knew the truth, Scrooge worried what she’d do when she actually got back in contact with her family. Although it looked like she forgave them for ruining her life, abusing her, and for being absolute blockheads, it was clear as daylight to him that she held a deep grudge against her family. “You’re not going back to them are you?” he quietly inquired. 

(Y/n)’s glare made him feel as though he were the dust on an old book. “Guess again, Scroogey.” His expression hardened and the air thickened like jam. “Lass, you are not going back there.” (Y/n) made her way to the door, a tight frown on her face. “I don’t have to listen to you, liar.” 

Scrooge’s jaw unhinged. “I’m your guardian!” 

“Only because my parents died.” 

His shoulders tensed and he slammed the door shut. “You listen here and you listen well!” He yanked (Y/n) away from the door. “Me lying will never compare to how terrible your family treated you. You want the truth so bad? Well, your rubbish aunt hired a hit man to assassinate your parents! There! That’s the truth! Are you happy now?” (Y/n) slapped Scrooge’s hand off her shoulder, but he didn’t pay any mind. 

The two had a silent stare-off that may have lasted for an hour if it weren’t for the knock on the door. “(Y/n)?” Scrooge eyed the door as (Y/n) made her way towards it. She cracked it open just enough to peek out at the little girl before her. “Sorry Webby, I can’t play right now. I’m a bit...”

“Busy?”

“Yeah.” (Y/n) offered an apologetic smile, to which Webby frowned and twiddled her thumbs to. “Okay then. I’ll be in my room.” She made her way down the hall. “Alone.” (Y/n) frowned. “I’m sorry Webby, promise I’ll make it up to you in two weeks time. How about we get ice cream?” Webby froze, eyes wide. “You mean it?”

“Promise.” (Y/n) said. Webby smiled. “Okay.” 

Once (Y/n) was sure Webby was gone, she closed the door behind her and turned on Scrooge with a dark glare. “I’m done arguing with you. I’m leaving.” she announced. Scrooge folded his arms across his chest and seized (Y/n) by the collar. “Oh no you don’t!” He reeled her away from the door and kicked her suitcase out of her hands. “You are staying right here.”

“I’m not a kid anymore Uncle Scrooge!”

“You’re fifteen. Still a kid.”

“If you add the years after I was cursed by you--”

“It was an accident!”

“--I’m about thirty-five years old.” (Y/n) finished. Scrooge ruffled her hair with a roll of his eyes and a light-hearted chuckle. “You’ll always be my kid in my eyes. I suggest you reschedule with Webby to tomorrow.” There was a good pause before he added, “You don’t need to see your sad excuse of a family anyway. They’re nothing but trouble.”

Present

“Lauchpad, please try to stay on the road!” exclaimed (Y/n). The large man-child sped through Duckburg as if he were in a NASCAR race. Speed-bumps and pot-holes caused (Y/n) to slam into the door and Scrooge at least fives times in a row, and since he had a long day of meetings, the old man’s patience ran thin. “Eyes on the road McQuack!”

“Sorry Mr. McDee, (N/n).” 

(Y/n) wanted to be nice to Launchpad, but her stomach did flip-flops and her head ached. She should have expected this, because it was always like this, but her being her always held onto the sliver of hope that Launchpad would miraculously learn how to not crash a car. Scrooge took a good look at (Y/n), a short sigh escaping his lips. “Every dent in this car is coming out of your salary!” 

“Absolutely. Hey, hear about that crazy snow storm on the Drake Barrier Reef? I’d hate to fly into that one. You see, I’m a bit of a pilot--”

Without looking up from his newspaper, Scrooge pressed a button on the door. The glass divider slowly rolled up and forced Launchpad to keep his eyes where they should be: on the road. 

(Y/n) lied down on the seat with a sluggish frown. “I’m just gonna...close my eyes.” Either Launchpad forgot how brakes work, or he had zero brain cells left, because he continued charging through the city until he came to the manor’s gates despite Scrooge’s protests. The limo came to a screeching stop. If it weren’t for Scrooge, (Y/n) would have flown into the windscreen. 

“Why aren’t we moving?” demanded Scrooge. (Y/n) harshly swallowed and sat up. The impatient beeping of the limo’s horn didn’t help her spinning head, and neither did Scrooge’s yelling as he hopped out of the car. “Hey!” he shouted. “Jettison that jalopy from my driveway, ya deadbeat!” 

Who was he even talking to?

“Donald Duck.” 

Oh. 

“Uncle Scrooge.”

Oh.

(Y/n) didn’t care to listen to the arguing. All she wanted was a good cup of tea and a bed. 

“Jettison that jalopy from my driveway this instant, ya deadbeat!”

“Oh, here we go again, giving orders like he’s the richest duck in the world!”

“I am the richest duck in the world, now move!”

(Y/n) couldn’t take the arguing anymore. Her head spun, she felt like she’d throw up, and she really craved that cuppa probably waiting for her in the dining room. “Can you both shut up?!” A pair of footsteps made their way towards the open car door. Through the disgustingly bright sunlight, and the splitting headache, (Y/n) made out the angry face of Donald Duck.

“What did you do to her Scrooge?!” he shouted. Scrooge let out a large gasp, a clear sign he was beyond offended. “What did I do to her?! It was Launchpad’s driving!” 

There was some more chatter before three identical children piled in the limo. (Y/n) didn’t care who they were, and it seemed like the feeling with Scrooge was mutual. When the gates opened and they arrived at the front door, Mrs. Beakely scooped (Y/n) in her arms and brought her to her room. “My, my, was it Launchpad’s terrible excuse for driving again?” 

(Y/n) wordlessly nodded as Beakley set her on her bed. She poured a nice warm cup of tea and handed it to the car-sick girl. “I suggest you rest for a little before you get caught up too much excitement again.” Mrs. B. said. 

A little rest, Mrs. B. said. It would be good for you, she said. Only after waking up did (Y/n) realise she had been drugged by the one-and-only housekeeper. It was obvious she knew (Y/n) wouldn’t get a wink of sleep because she had a tendency to lay awake in bed until three in the morning, but in her eyes, that did not justify her actions, especially after all the action she missed out on. 

That morning, she stood in the dining room, PJs on and mouth agape as three identical triplets bombarded her with an arsenal of crazy questions.

"Aren't you Uncle Scrooge's famous sidekick?"

"Isn't your family crazy rich and extremely prestige?"

"How do you still look the same after so many years?"

"Botox?"

"Water from the Fountain of Youth?"

"No, plastic surgery?"

(Y/n) sent Scrooge a silent look for help, to which he shook his head with a warm smile. "Boys, don't be rude." he merrily said. "She's just cursed is all." The blue one's eyes widened, and for a second, (Y/n) thought he had chocked on his scrambled eggs. "You're cursed? How?"

"Uh..."

"Actually, I have a better question, how did you meet Uncle Scrooge?"

(Y/n) swallowed a bite of toast. Her gaze nervously snapped towards the old duck, to which he folded his newspaper shut and said, "Alright, boys. That's enough. I think it's a bit early for all these questions, especially for her. She hates mornings." (Y/n) smiled a little. "Yeah, I do." She returned her focus on the faces of the three kids. Each had large, bright eyes, extremely large smiles, and loud personalities. Which also happened to remind her of...

(Y/n) leaned over to Scrooge's ear and subtly face-palmed. "They're Della's kids, aren't they?"

"You just figured that out now?"

"I was tired, what do you expect?"

Scrooge rolled his eyes. "Besides that, we're going to Atlantis tomorrow." he nonchalantly announced. (Y/n) almost spit out her tea. "Wait, you're serious?"

He nodded, a sparkle (Y/n) hadn't seen in a while shining in his eyes. (Y/n) couldn't help but feel grateful for Scrooge. If he hadn't stopped her from seeking out her family, she'd probably be dead. (Y/n) Eider didn't belong with a bunch of prestigious, scholarly ducks. She was an adventurer, an explorer, who walked through every corner of the Earth.

But most importantly, she was Scrooge McDuck's one and only side-kick.

[jaebaebie]

How I met your (very modern) mother

Felix “Just think about how this would be a nice story to tell our kids.. I am your soulmate after all.”

Who would’ve guessed that Y/N’s online gamer friend was her bias from stray kids?

5.37 PM

mydayqueen has connected

“Hey, Queen. Sorry, I gotta go now. You still coming on tonight?”

Your online friend, dabdude00, told you through the in game voice chat. A frown formed on your face. He was leaving you halfway through a match and you knew you were going to have to carry the team in a duos match. You could ask your other friends to play with you, but no one was as good (or as fun) as dab.

“I’m not really sure. I still have that test to study for. But I’ll try.”

You heard him snort from the other line, “You say that as you continue to wreck these noobs.”

“Someone has to show them how it’s done.” You replied, shrugging your shoulders proudly as you take note of your kill count. 10

It was fun to show off your skills to boys who expected you to be bad at the game. Many of the random teammates you met in the game were toxic and rude, not appreciating the fact that they were teamed with a girl. But then, once you’ve shown off, they’d suddenly fawn over you, mesmerised by your skills and the Victory Royale that appeared on their screens.

“Anyways, I’ll see ya soon.”

dabdude00 has disconnected

Dab was an exception. He wasn’t toxic like all the other guys you had encountered. He was nice since the first time the two of you met (online of course) and was even willing to teach you better skills. In three months, he had become your designated teammate. An online friend you told your stories and ranted to. He always listened, even throwing some sarcastic remarks from time to time to tease you because that’s how close you two have become.

Sometimes, you forgot that he was a complete stranger,, a stranger whose face and name you don’t even know. It would be nice to actually meet Dab in person. To see how he looks like. To witness how he was like in real life. But you could only imagine such events, knowing that your family and friends would kill you if you ever tried to meet up with someone you met online.

10.07 PM

After nearly three hours of studying for your upcoming test, your door bust open, revealing your very frantic and very excited bestfriend.

“Geez!” You exclaimed, unintentionally bringing your hand up to your chest in shock, “Ever heard of knocking, Jen?”

“I’m sorry! But look!” Jen jumped, waving two pieces of paper in the air. You rolled your eyes, laughing at your friend’s actions. Just as you were about to give her another remark, your eyes widened in realisation.

No way.

“YoU gOT ThEm?!!!”

“Nu-Uh. WE got them! We’re finally going to see them!” She yelled excitedly, pulling you up from you seat as the two of you began squealing together.

Once Jen had left your room, you quickly ran to your computer, no longer in the mood to study.

“Yo yo Dab!!” You exclaimed, immediately hearing him laugh from the other side of the screen as you barely even got your headphones around your head.

“Someone sounds excited. What happened to studying?”

“Studying? I’ve never heard of it! Guess who’s going to see her soulmate?” You couldn’t help but jump in your seat, still not over the fact that your bestfriend had managed to buy tickets for the both of you.

He chuckled, “Hmm. I guess you’re finally going to see Jae from Day6 huh?”

“No, silly! He’s my ultimate bias. This one’s different.” You argued.

“Why am I not surprised?” He teased. Funnily enough, you could imagine his actions towards you, despite not knowing how he actually looked like. He’d shake his head, smiling as he brings his hands up to his temple.

“So, who’s this lucky guy then?”

You smiled, looking up to the posters pasted on the wall right above your computer. A fluttery feeling spread in your stomach, spreading to your chest as you began to get excited once again.

“Felix from Stray Kids.”

10.48 PM

“I’m S T R E S S E D !!”

A week had gone by so quickly that you were panicking because you still had no idea what to wear the night before your fan-meet with Stray Kids. You had tried to call Jen for help, but she only stressed you out even more. She had everything planned out and organised, while you, on the other hand, were frantic and disorganised. Somehow, you were now getting help from the person who couldn’t possibly give it to you.

“Calm down, Queen. I-Felix would find anything you wear pretty.” Dab said, attempting to calm you down.

It turned out the Dab was somewhat familiar with Stray Kids. He claimed to have heard their music a few times and actually liked it. He even knew who Felix was, judging from his sudden choking when you told him who your soulmate was.

“That’s not the point, Dab! Come on, help me out.” You whined. You were stretching to reach for your clothes in your cabinet, not wanting your earphones to disconnect.

“Just wear something unique. Didn’t you say you have a panda beanie lying around?” He asked, and you nodded even though he couldn’t actually see you.

“Yeah. But that’ll make me look dumb.”

“No, it won’t. He’ll notice you when you wear that.” He replied rather convincingly. He sounded so confident and strong. We’re guys always this sure of themselves?

You stared at the panda beanie he was speaking of, frowning as you hesitated, “Are you sure?”

“Trust me, Queen. He’ll notice you.”

3.19 PM ~ the day of the fan meeting

You held their album close to your chest, trying to calm your breaths as you made your way towards the first member, following after Jen. Nearly all the members complimented your panda beanie, but you were too busy blushing to notice the cheeky smirks they were sending towards your ‘soulmate’.

He was the last one in the line of members. Your ears felt like they had been blocked by your own heartbeats and a lump had formed at the back of your throat. You were so nervous you weren’t even sure you could say a word. You watched as he bid Jen goodbye with a smile before he turned to you.

His eyes met yours, widening momentarily before he replaced them with the cutest eye smile.

“I like your panda beanie.” He complimented, taking the album from you. “I’m Felix, what’s your name?”

“I know.” You stuttered, making you want to melt into the floor.

“What?” He asked, leaning forward to hear you better amidst the loud squeals of the fans.

“I-I mean, I know you’re Felix. I’m Y/N.” You finally managed to mutter out.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Y/N.” He replied with a smile wider than his last one.

“You too. You look so much better in real life, with your freckles and all that.”

God. What was wrong with you? For some reason, everything that came out of your mouth was just purely embarrassing.

He chuckled, and shivers went up your spine. It sounded way too familiar. Before you could ponder over it, you fell in love once again as he began to rub the small amount of foundation on his cheeks, allowing you to get a better look on his freckles.

“So, which one of us is your soulmate?”

You snorted, feeling your cheeks heat from embarrassment. Saying that he was your soulmate in front of him felt way too cringy for your own good. “It’s supposed to be you. But after seeing JeongIn, I think my mind’s changed.”

His jaw dropped and he scrunched his nose, pretending to be offended, “He must be one lucky guy then.”

“Truly.” You replied, laughing. Their manager gave you a signal, indicating that it was time for you to move on. You nodded, smiling as you took the album from him. He almost looked disappointed. But you were convinced it was just you being delusional.

“It was nice meeting you, mydayqueen.”

“You too, dabdu—- wait, what?!”

Your jaw dropped and your eyes widened. There was NO WAY Felix had just called you your gamer tag. How did he know what it was? He stared at your expression, laughing with his head tilted back. The same action you always imagined Dab to be doing. The manager had called you once again, guiding you gently off the stage. Felix kept his gaze on you, the same cheeky smile on his face before he turned to the next girl, leaving you with the same confused and dumb stricken look on your face.

There was NO WAY Felix was dabdude00,,,, right?

12.03 AM

dabdude00 has sent you a party invite

You stared at your computer screen, biting the sides of your nails nervously. You were still completely taken aback by the day’s events. Felix was dabdude00. dabdude00 was Felix. You felt dumb and embarrassed. You always loved Felix’s deep and unique voice, yet, you’ve spoken to Felix the past three months and you never even recognised that it was him.

You groaned, rubbing your palms down your face as you recalled the fan meeting. He was giving you so many clues. ‘Soulmate’ and ‘Lucky Guy’. Those were words Dab used when the two of you spoke.

dabdude00 has sent you a party invite

You could barely even think about him without dying from embarrassment. How were you going to talk to him and pretend everything was normal?

dabdude00 has sent you a message

dabdude00 : Hey, you okay? Idk if you’re busy but it says you’re online..?

dabdude00 : Are you angry about today?

dabdude00 : If you are, I’m really sorry. I really didn’t mean to make you upset.

His response itself proved that dabdude00 was in fact Felix of Stray Kids. You sighed, confusing yourself even more. Any Stay would dream of this. Yet, you were ignoring his invites and messages because you were too busy being dramatic.

You threw your headphones on, finally mustering the courage to join his voice chat.

“Hey, Dab. Or Felix. Which one do you prefer?” You asked. Your voice sounded colder than you had expected.

“You sound upset. I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to make you upset.” His voice was soft and small.

“N-No. I’m not. Just shocked and embarrassed.” You replied, trying to ease the tension that somehow managed to form through your headphones.

“Embarrassed? Why?” He asked, making you let out a cry,

“Because I literally called Felix my ‘soulmate’ in front of Felix! And I FANGIRLED to Felix about Felix and all that stuff! Why would you let me do that?” You exclaimed, feeling your cheeks heat up once again.

He laughed, “If it makes you feel better, I really liked it.”

“Sure, you did. Ugh! I’m so embarrassed, Felix! I literally hate you right now.”

You could hear him smirk from the other side, making you roll your eyes, “Really? If I remember correctly, this past week you’ve been bragging to me about how much you loved.. me.”

“—Shut up before I take your posters down.”

“Aww. You have posters of me?” He teased.

“Felix, I swear to god.”

He laughed once again, and this time you confidently imagined how he looked like. It sent the butterflies flying in your stomach and your head spun with joy.

“Calm down, Y/N.” He said,

“Just think about how this would be a nice story to tell our kids.. I am your soulmate after all.”

[zoessecretjournal]

Monday, April 19th, 2021

Today was a great day! I didn’t sleep so well despite the full on beach day we had the day before. It was Taylor’s last day here, unfortunately we really only got to say goodbye today as I was leaving at 11am this morning to meet up with Ryan. I let her sleep in my bed and she gave a groggy goodbye as my Lyft approached the apt. On the way to Ryan’s I listened to Shygirl and started out the window, trying to stay cool. It was the first time I would see him since all of our serious talks, and he had been spending the weekend trying to help Kathleen get to LAX (she mixed up the dates apparently) so I expected him to be tired. I got there around 11:30 am, dressed in my chartreuse green baby doll dress with a white soft tee underneath. My gold earrings, white tennis shoes and gold lobster broach as accessories, and a natural style face. When he came to collect me from outside he certainly looked tired, but happy to see me. When inside, he complimented the color of my dress and drew in to kiss me, and then he held me for a long while. He genuinely gives really good and meaningful hugs.

As soon as I sit down on the couch he plops his head on my lap, wanting me to scratch his head. I tell him he’s just like a cat and he gives me a look to suggest “so?” in a cute way. Whenever I scratch his head, he always ends up doing it to me at the same time, as well as using his other free hand to hold mine or touch me in some way. We stay this way, catching long gazes at each other intermittently, for about half an hour. He asks me about my Hinge profile and how I must have a line of suitors. I tell him about my date with Daniel and how cringe it was, but not before he asked if I kissed him!!! I lie and say no, because I never wanted to really kiss Daniel in the first place. We have fun reveling in how basic Daniel is, and then Ryan proceeds to tell me about his coffee date with someone this week with someone from Hinge. Apparently she is also “ethically non-monogamous” and only wants to make friends. Whatever.

Then we decide to walk to his car to head off to the LACMA. Ryan shows me how they just laid out new tar on his street and someone had ruined it by driving on it, he really isn’t happy about it apparently. I honestly don��t really understand the big idea, but maybe I would care if I drove. On the way to his car he is of course quiet and a really slow walker, I feel like I fumble all the time trying to keep his pace while traversing the uprooted side walks of East Hollywood. Ryan thought he got a ticket as we were walking to his car and my stomach dropped, knowing how much that has effected other people I’ve dated in the past. Thankfully it ended up just being a “thank you” note from someone he helped get a spot behind his car. I could breath a sigh of relief, honestly. On the way there he held my hand, put his hand on my though, squeezed my fingers while catching my glance a few times. He doesn’t talk much in the car and I’m learning he really shows that he cares in a lot of non-verbal cues, which is so different from the Ryan I knew as a friend.

At the muesuem, Ryan gets a iced espresso before we get in. The place was pretty empty and we weren’t in a rush, it was a nice change of pace to be outside with him somewhere in the day time. Ryan took a second picture of me (The first was while i was sitting on his couch) in front of the dome next to the LACMA. Both were prompted by him, which made me feel pretty good. During the Nara exhibit, I found that I was much more talkative, I actually expected him to make jokes about more of the art but there were none! He didn’t even laugh at some of the funny ones! I respected his approach though, very contemplative. There were some really beautiful pieces, and I take a long while to stop and stare at everything. I really appreciated his patience and how he kept pace with me, he was interested in seeing it all with me.  The big paintings of Nara’s work were pretty amazing to see up close. I’ve seen a lot of this work in art books, but those photographs and scans can never capture the way the skin of the character’s look in person. They literally look alive, you see all the blue, pink and yellow hues that make a breathing person, but with this simple illustrated, petulant face. The eyes were also a kaleidoscope of colors, his techniques I've tried to commit to memory. especially the white dot technique.

After the exhibition Ryan thanks me for inviting him, saying no one ever invites him to things like this or things in the day time. I ask why he thought that was? He replied “I don’t know, covid?” and then he sings “or maybe I’m secretly cancelled!”. I wish I would of said this at the time, but I suspect it’s because he’s sober, and I hope that doesn't happen to me. He asks if I am hungry, and I say that I am, he suggests Korean BBQ by his place, to which I agree. We drove down 6th st which apparently he had never gone down and he remarked on how beautiful it was, it certainly was, I had missed it. We still hold hands, and even tighter this time as we make our way to K-Town. We both order the Bulgogi and while we wait for our take-out order Ryan discusses with me his thoughts on the exhibit. He spoke about how long Nara had been an artist and expected to do the same style over and over because it’s what sells and rarely to those artists get to do other stuff. He then started relaying it to his own work and how dispensable art is and how we just eat content like McDonald’s. I agree with him, I explained how I felt disenfranchised for those reasons as well. We get our food eventually and head back to his apt. On the way back from the car, Ryan makes a few stories on people leaving bagged dog shit in random places in his neighborhood. He doesn’t have a lot of shame when it comes to his musings in comedy. A quality I both admire and am fearful of. When we get inside I take off my shoes and spruce up a little. We eat in his kitchen next to his two open windows with the honey suckle veranda directly outside. We both had a non-alcoholic beer with our meal which was surprisingly good.  I can’t remember much about what we talked about, I think we just were eating and played footsie a little bit.

He invited me to lay down with him in his room after we were done, so I followed him there. We laid down for some moments, very close and comfortable.I was caressing him all over, I genuinely like to do that with my partners, but specifically Ryan, hes very receptive to touch. We end up kissing and he stops and asks me if I really want to do “this” and I tell him I do. We end up having sex twice, both times Ryan tries hard to focus on me cumming. I don’t but I think he thinks I did the 2nd time. For some reason I’m having a hard time with that, and also getting wet, but I still had a great time (I was really close though) . We felt closer some how, less stress involved. I even fell asleep with his head in my chest. When he woke up, he woke me up. He caressed my neck and grabbed my face to look at it, my eyes still half-way closed. He gets up to go take a bath and I slowly come to and retrieve my phone and go sit in the kitchen next to the open window. I respond to everyone I can, Matt (from Hinge, who I met yesterday at the bonfire) had messaged me to tell me he was free all week, and he was making carbonara if I wanted to stop by. I think I’m going to see him tomorrow.

When Ryan gets out of the Bath and dressed (in a matching green playstation shirt might I add) he puts on a podcast, gets a sparkling water and lays down on the couch. I assume, no room for me, so he wanted to be alone. He was quite quiet as well again. So I decide to purchase somethings from amazon (sewing machine, humidifier, etc) and when I finally put my phone down I look over at Ryan and he was looking at me. He immediately puts his arms up to say “Come here”. As I approach he says that I can lay on him any way I like, face up, down etc, and so I lay down on him stomach down so I can still see him, and he starts to massage my shoulders. We listen to this podcast for awhile like that, and talk about random things relating to it. at some point they get onto the topic of Randonautica, in which I explain to Ryan, who had never heard of it, what it was all about. As I’m explaining it, he downloads the app! I had dared him to do it, but he actually was really interested. Funnily enough, the pin it dropped was right in between his ex-gf’s apt (Dani) and his good friend Shawn’s apt (Who they both date apparently) which really freaked him out. But just as he got the pin, his friend Shawn messaged him on facebook! He looks at me bewildered and asks if I want to meet his friend Shawn and go check out the pin and I agree. I had expected to sleep over but felt instantly rejected, but realized we had spent a lot of close time together so I should just deal with my feelings right then and there. Ryan gets my attention and re-assures me it’s just because he hasn’t had much space the past few days and he had a really lovely day with me. His serious tone made me feel better and I assured him that I was ok.

Before we head out I ask if we can take a Polaroid together, unfortunately both times they are incredibly blown out. He lets me borrow a jacket of his, even though I just gave him back his sweater and we head off. I tell him that I have a bunch of mushrooms I’ve been waiting to take and ask him if the next time we hang out if we could do them/he could babysit me and he enthusiastically agrees. Even though I tell him I am quite the handful on them in large doses, he had a look of reassurance that he can handle it. We’ll see.

We arrive in the area and walk to the pin, Ryan points out where Dani lives as we pass by. The pin was behind a residential gate with an old mustang stored in it, with both its hood and trunk open and a shovel up against it. Ryan tells me his “intention” he set for it was for us to see a UFO, which there was none. But we did see a cardboard cutout of Vegeta from Dragon Ball Z, so I guess him being an alien is close enough. We walk to his friend’s house, which Ryan had the access code memorized, they must be very close. Shaun and his friend seemed to be working on something music oriented for a game as we walked in, Shaun was very nice and welcoming. We end up talking for awhile and he offered me a Kombucha, Ryan seemed to really enjoy himself and liked that I got along so well. We hung out probably for about half an hour and then decided to head out so Ryan could take me home. He asks me how I’m doing and I say that I am having a really nice time, and he looked really happy about that and confirmed he was too.

On the ride back he had his hand on my thigh and I had my hands on his hand and the back of his neck, giving him a light massage while we listened to the tail end of that podcast. When we get to my place he tells me I should borrow his jacket again, that it looks nice. I tell him that I’m going to be busy all week but we will see each other soon, he tells me he is also going to be pretty busy. He reiterates what a great time he had that day and gives me a deep kiss and a long hug. We part ways and I arrive back home to tell Johnny some of the snippets of today while I respond to all my messages on my phone. I ate sushi and got ready for bed. Ryan texts me a bit in the evening, telling me again! how nice today was and what he was up to. It felt really easy and nice.

[randomvarious]

The Sugarhill Gang - “Rapper’s Delight” The Best Rap Album of All Time Song released in 1979. Compilation released in 1999. Hip Hop

“Rapper’s Delight” by The Sugarhill Gang is the most important song in the history of hip hop music. Period. It was the genre’s first commercial record and it sold millions of copies around the world. It suddenly introduced white people and everyone outside of the tri-state area, as well as countless people in other countries, to a Bronx-born, organic subculture whose popularity had previously grown through mostly word-of-mouth. It’s not the first hip hop song ever recorded (that honor belongs to “King Tim III (Personality Jock)” by The Fatback Band), but historians unanimously agree that it is indeed the genre’s runner-up record. And without its commercial success, hip hop might have only become a late 70s-early 80s New York fad, only to be cherished by its small set of original participants and Pitchfork-reading hipster types who wax nostalgic about those halcyon CBGB’s and Max’s Kansas City days where the city’s various strains of new wave, glam rock, punk, art punk, no wave, and the like all converged.

But I’m here to tell you that this iconic song, the one that made hip hop a viable commercial enterprise and enabled it to eventually become the biggest music genre on the planet, is actually a total fraud. And that’s for a couple reasons. Now, before you go all Rocko lavender hippo lady on me, let me just say that “Rapper’s Delight” is by no means a bad song. In fact, it’s one of the greatest songs ever made. But it was a total fucking cash grab, too; an absolute sellout record. And that’s ironic because, for a genre that’s had so many insufferable purists who bristle at the idea of inauthenticity (full disclosure: I was one of those people), they have no problem with calling this song an indispensable piece of “real” and “true” hip hop music.

Let me explain some hip hop history, first though.

Hip hop culture began in the south Bronx in the summer of 1973, about a full six years before “Rapper’s Delight” came out. It was started by a DJ from Jamaica named Kool Herc. Herc is the genius who figured out how to isolate the instrumental break on a record and extend it by having two copies of the record and lining up the second one to start after the break from the first one finished. This allowed people to dance to the same beat for extended periods of time, which gave birth to breakdancing and dance battles. Another thing the extension of the break enabled was rapping. Rapping came out of toasting, a Jamaican DJ tradition in which the DJ would bust out a nifty and rhythmic, spoken-word rhyme, often shouting out someone of note who was in attendance. But then that eventually morphed into an extended series of rhymes, which gave way to the MC.

Rapping at that point was largely a poetic, improvised stream-of-consciousness. MCs would rap for minutes on end, displaying their mental dexterity as they would do their best to keep on beat and try to make sense while rhyming the last word of each line with the next.

That’s where Sylvia Robinson comes into this story. Robinson was an R&B / soul / funk / disco artist and producer who had appeared plenty of times on the R&B charts and landed a top-three national hit with “Pillow Talk” in 1973. In 1979, she started her own label, Sugar Hill Records, which would become the most important hip hop label in the early part of the next decade. Robinson’s first interaction with rapping didn’t come inside a Bronx club or at a Bronx block party though. It was instead at her niece’s birthday party in Harlem, where DJ Lovebug Starski was doing a bit of call-and-response with his audience. 

From The Independent:

"The DJ [was talking] over the music, and the kids were going crazy. He would say something like, 'Throw your hands [up in] the air' and they'd do it," she recalled. "All of a sudden, something said [to me]: 'Put something like that on a record, and it will be the biggest thing you ever had'. I didn't even know you called it rap."

At first, Robinson had no takers. No rapper or DJ she approached thought making a hip hop record was a good idea. It was just a fun thing people did at parties. It wasn’t something that would ever end up being profitable. According to cultural critic Harry Allen, when Chuck D of Public Enemy first heard that rap was going to be put on records, he asked, “'How are you going to put three hours on a record?' Because that's the way MCs used to rhyme. They'd just rhyme and rhyme and rhyme for hours."

But Robinson would eventually find some people to rap on a record. It’s unclear whether or not it was her son or her herself who initially found the first member of her rap group, but it happened at a pizza shop in Englewood, New Jersey, where Big Bank Hank was spotted rapping while working his shift. Robinson then brought Hank out in front of the parlor to audition. The next member, Master Gee, would then audition in her car, followed by Wonder Mike. Robinson couldn’t decide which rapper she liked most, so she decided to sign all of them. And thus, the Sugarhill Gang was born.

However, it should be noted that Big Bank Hank, Master Gee, and Wonder Mike were absolute nobodies at the time. They weren’t serious MCs or DJs. The guys who had been putting it down since hip hop’s inception like Kool Herc, Afrika Bambaataa, Grandmaster Flash, and Kool DJ AJ had never had these guys rap on their stages before. They were total amateurs.

But Robinson didn’t care and not long after she signed them, “Rapper’s Delight” came to fruition. The #1 song in the country at the time happened to be Chic’s “Good Times,” and coincidentally, it was also a superb beat for rapping over. Robinson probably thought that using an uber popular instrumental for her rap record would move units, too, and ultimately, she would be proven right. She enlisted a funk band called Positive Force to recreate the “Good Times” instrumental, and,  incredibly, they and the Sugarhill Gang pumped out “Rapper’s Delight” in a single nineteen-minute take. There were no lyrical flubs and no mistakes by any of the players. It was an amazingly efficient use of studio time.

That nineteen minutes was then pared down to 14:30 and the recording was pressed to wax and then went to sale. However, “Rapper’s Delight” failed to catch on at first. Radio DJs were reticent to play such a ridiculously long song and hip hop party DJs had no idea who the Sugarhill Gang was. But once a radio version was cut, which is the version I’ve posted today, the record got radio play, which then translated to immense record sales. It made the Billboard Hot 100, peaking at #36, while hitting #4 on the R&B chart. And it became an even bigger hit outside of the U.S., reaching the top-five all across Europe, Canada, and South Africa. It also sold literally millions of records. The second hip hop song to ever be recorded for commercial purposes was a suddenly and completely unexpected global phenomenon. Hip hop had hit the big time.

But outside of the fact that this monstrous song was clearly a mere ploy to make money and was actually not an organic piece of Bronx-bred hip hop culture, there was even more fraudulence to it. Big Bank Hank, the second MC to grace the track, actually stole all of his verses from another rapper, the legend Grandmaster Caz. Caz was a member of a foundational hip hop group called The Cold Crush Brothers, who were known to rap at parties in the Bronx. Hank offered to become Caz’s manager and took out a loan to upgrade Cold Crush’s soundsystem. Then, to pay off that loan, he got a job at the pizza shop that he was eventually discovered in. But when he was seen rapping while working and was quickly auditioned afterwards, he used Caz’s lyrics. So, when Hank introduces himself on “Rapper’s Delight” with, “I’m the C-A-S-A, the N-O-V-A, and the rest is F-L-Y,” know he is spelling out one of Grandmaster Caz’s nicknames, and without his permission. And to this day, Caz hasn’t seen a single dime from “Rapper’s Delight”’s sales. Criminal shit.

But in the grand scheme of things, despite that bad sleight on Caz and the ultimate motive to record the song, “Rapper’s Delight” is still, by absolute happenstance, a masterpiece. It’s not just one of the first hip hop records, but it’s just so infectiously fun. But because of how fun it is, another thing that apparently pissed off other rappers at the time was that the song wasn’t about anything important. A lot of rappers were angry at the conditions in which they lived and they thought it was lame that a bunch of outsiders had cashed in on their artform while not even channeling any of the south Bronx’s inner rage. But a few years later, Grandmaster Flash and The Furious Five would release hip hop’s second unmitigated classic, “The Message,” a socially conscious-painted picture of the South Bronx. And it was released on, funnily enough, Sugar Hill Records.

There’s a moral or something to this story somewhere. Without the selling out and without Big Bank Hank’s lyrical theft, who knows where hip hop culture would be today? “Rapper’s Delight” sure wasn’t made for the purest of reasons, but it exposed hip hop music, and then eventually the actual authentic Bronx culture, to the entire world. Had Sylvia Robinson not seen dollar signs in this fun and unique party gimmick, would Grandmaster Flash & The Furious Five or Afrika Bambaataa or Kurtis Blow become household names? Would hip hop ever be sold commercially? Would the following, more lyrical Def Jam wave with acts like Run-D.M.C. and LL Cool J ever happen? And then would N.W.A happen or the Native Tongues posse with A Tribe Called Quest, De La Soul, Busta Rhymes, Queen Latifah, and Black Sheep? I could go on, but you get the picture.

[lerdm]

More On The Tim/Diana AU

Okay, so since my post on rare ships, I did get a few messages about how I thought this would look like, so here is an outline of what that universe might look like.

Bruce is older now, like actually old, like 65-70ish. Alfred died a few years back and the way Bruce dealt with it drove Jason away for good. Dick is still Nightwing, although he’s also getting up there in years. His 40′s weren’t kind to him and he and Damian got into a huge fight at his 50th birthday party because Damian was almost certain that he was going to get himself killed. Damian doesn’t talk much with Bruce or Dick anymore either, which is a shame, because he’s the only one who Jason will speak to. Then there’s Tim. 

He’s in his early thirties, he was the one who took over being Batman after Bruce retired, much to Damian’s chagrin. Diana being basically immortal and Clark not ageing quite the same as a human man, are still the pillars of the League. At first, Batman wasn’t quite the image that he was when Bruce was in the role, but he made a name for himself soon enough.

He’s been Batman for a few years now, and the other day, he noticed a grey hair. He held it in his hand and stared at it for a while in front of the large window that looked out on Earth in the Watchtower. Diana came up behind him and asked if he was okay.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just... getting old I guess.”

“Is that troubling you?” Diana asked.

“Yes, more than it probably should,” Tim answered completely honestly.

This took Diana off guard, although, it shouldn’t by now. She should be used to the idea that Tim wasn’t his father, he didn’t bottle things up, not anymore. He had grown emotionally. And Diana would be lying if she didn’t notice how he had grown physically.

“Is it something that’s bothering you?” Diana asked.

Tim smiled a little at her and she smiled back. “Not really, not right now. But I’ve seen what doing this does to someone’s body. Bruce can barely walk now and it kills him. I figure I should probably stop before it gets that far.” He paused. “I probably won’t. Maybe I’ll go the same route as Jason and Damian and use a Lazarus pit.”

Diana looked concerned at this, “Would you? Consider that?”

“No. I think I’d rather die naturally than hurt the people around me with... everything that comes with the Pit.”

“I know it’s not my place, but I am relieved to hear you say that.”

“Maybe it is your place. I mean... you’re my friend.”

Diana looked at the man in the eye, they were the same height. 

“Just friends?”

A slow smiled crept onto Tim’s face, “I don’t presume to know what you’re feeling, but if you’re asking...”

“Which I am.”

“I don’t see any reason why we can’t... explore... this relationship. Beside perhaps your feelings for my father,” Tim said.

Diana shook her head a little. “You’re nothing like him.”

Tim grinned, “That’s more of a compliment than you know.”

“May I kiss you?” She asked.

“Of course,” Tim said.

<><> Years Later <><>

Tim was standing at the end of a long aisle. It wasn’t a big wedding, mostly family and friends from the superhero community. Tim’s best man was Conner Kent, Diana’s man of honour was Clark.

Bruce was sitting in the front and watched, his heart shattering, as Diana married his son.

There was a small reception outside the manor, where the wedding was taking place. Tim was chatting with some of the guests when something on the treeline caught his eye. He smiled and excused himself and walked over.

Jason was leaning against a tree, smoking. He looked the exact same as the snarky 19-year-old Tim had known what felt like a lifetime ago. Except for the hair, it was shock-white, and his eyes glowed in the dark slightly unnaturally.

“You know, you were invited,” Tim said.

“I know, but I didn’t want to make trouble for you,” Jason said. “Damian sends his best.”

Tim laughed, “No. He didn’t.”

Jason grinned, “No. He didn’t.” He took another drag. “Some things never change.”

“Yeah,” Tim agreed, giving Jason a look.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know. Don’t go all Bruce and give me a lecture.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

Jason rolled his eyes and reached into his jacket, pulling out an envelope. “Here, a wedding present.”

Tim looked inside and saw that it was packed with photographs. And not just any photos.

“Jason... how did you get these, I thought Bruce destroyed them after Alfred died,” Tim looked through them with tears welling in his eyes.

Jason smiled bittersweetly, “Alfred gave me all the old photo albums.”

“Thanks, Jay. I-” Tim looked up from a photo to see that Jason was gone. He chuckled slightly, put the envelope in his suit jacket, and went back to the party.

“Where’d you sneak off to?” Diana asked slightly teasingly, though there was a hint of real concern under it.

“Jason stopped by,” Tim said.

Diana smiled a little.

<><> Ten Years Later <><>

Funnily enough, Tim and Diana only had little girls. Tim had thought that the universe was going to mess with Diana by making them have only boys. Not that Tim was complaining. He loved those girls.

He and Diana left them with Conner when they were going out on League business that day. It was a hard fight. Diana was protecting Tim, who was trying to hack into the hidden files in their latest adversary’s computer. Unfortunately, a bomb was set off when the other members of the Justice League were battling the drones on the main level, and the building began to crash around them.

The next thing Diana knew, she was opening her eyes. She seemed to have landed in an air pocket. And then she remembered who else she had been with. “Batman?!” She called. She sat up and looked around until she saw a glint of light bouncing off something. But she couldn’t tell what it was. She reached out to touch it, and her hand came back sticky.

“Timothy?” She asked the darkness, her voice wavering in a way that it hadn’t in a long time.

She crawled over to where he was laying. No pulse to be found. She cradled his body against her chest and sobbed until Superman finally dug them out of the rubble.

<><> <><>

Telling her children that their father was gone was one of the hardest things she’d ever done.

All she could think about as she stood at the grave of Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne, was how she was so lucky that she still had pieces of him in the world.

She smelt the smoke before she heard him speak.

“I could bring him back, if you’d like.”

She turned to look at Jason, ever the same man, frozen in time.

“He told me he didn’t want that,” Diana replied.

Jason just nodded, “Yeah, I figured.”

There was silence for a moment before Diana spoke her mind. “Why are you here?”

“I... just thought I’d come to tell you that I’m sorry. And that you and the kids were the things that made his life worth something to him, not Batman.”

Diana stared at Jason tearily. “Thank you.”

He nodded and was about to turn away when he remembered something else he had wanted to tell her. “And... Damian’s taken this hard. He, uh, I think he has people following your girls just to make sure nothing happens. I tried to call him off but- well, it’s Damian. I know they can handle themselves, he’s just worried.”

Diana wanted to be angry, and snap at him that she can protect her children on her own, but then she remembered that she wasn’t the only one who lost someone.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

Jason nodded once and then went back to his motorcycle, revving away.

[naruhoedou]

Transaction

---

Ryuunosuke Naruhodou/Seishirou Jigoku

Susato thought he could do it. Convincing their government, however, was a different task.

-Slight spoilers for DGS and DGS 2-

---

Of course he never thought it would be easy, least of all as easy as the Great Detective made it sound. But it was a logical decision and he was hoping that’d put things in his favor. As disrespectful as this all felt, even more so with the weight of Karuma resting in his lap, he couldn’t just let them get shipped right back to Japan. That’d be too cruel to Susato, who lost a brother apparently, when he could just sacrifice a bit of his mental health to honor his fallen friend. 

 

As he sat on the desk Asougi Kazuma wrote his last journal entry on, pen heavy in his hand, he silently thanked his literature major for his knowledge in writing formal requests. Although, knowing the format didn’t really help much when the situation was so unbelievable and complex. Did he start by mentioning how the star student of the Imperial Yuumei University lost his life by hitting his head too hard? Or that said student smuggled Ryuunosuke on board? Wasn’t the Minister of Foreign Affairs already aware of these things? Or was it just formality…

 

Would he even get accepted? If the country only chose to send the best of the best, would they even want to send some mediocre literature student for an education in law ? As these thoughts swirled and swirled in his mind, he realized he’d already begun writing. Reading over the lines he jotted down proved them to be acceptable. Now, if you asked anyone who knew him, they would say Ryuunosuke worked well under pressure. But what he did on impulse, he wouldn’t exactly clarify as such. With a heavy sigh that trembled towards the end of it in remembrance , he let his hand do as it pleased once more and the letter was completed. All that was left was a once-over by Susato in the morning... which ended in her exclaiming that she didn’t expect it to be so well written, a sheepish smile blooming on Ryuunosuke’s face as shame pooled in his gut. Noticing how backhanded her compliment was, and maybe not caring much about it, Susato took the letter and floated out the room. She’d give it to the sailors for it to be mailed out.

 

——

 

What? As Ryuunosuke held the (supposedly)formal reply in his hands, he felt a familiar feeling of shock run through his body. Now that he’d told Susato they’d gotten accepted and got her to leave, he had all the time in the world to read over this.. this personal threat of a letter in his hands. At least, until he had to throw himself into his law studies again, though he felt more like throwing himself...overboard. This was a joke, right? A funny joke from that Sherlock Holmes fellow who had somehow acquired the letter the sailors sent out a month ago, an official Japanese Government seal and also managed to copy the Minister of Foreign Affairs' handwriting and signature. Honestly, how these things kept happening to him, he had no clue. 

 

He’d heard some stories from Asougi(a pang went through his heart), about the law students both male and female who sold their bodies to get through law school. Prostitution, he’d called it. Tragically contradictory. Ryuunosuke remembered the other man smiling as he’d said it, wondering if Asougi really thought it so tragic after all. “It’s wrong to break the law you’re studying!” he heard a whisper through the room. Bitterly, “The law didn’t save you.”, he whispered back. He leaned forward, taking a deep breath as he usually did. 

 

So, what if the Minister of Foreign Affairs wasn’t immune to such attractions? It’s not like they’d meet for a long while. By the time he got to face the repercussions of the choice he was about to make, it’d be a year at least. Or however long this program was supposed to last. And, he thought he owed at least this much to the girl a few doors down. The girl who didn’t even get to be the last person to see her brother alive. He looked down. There probably was a good reason Asougi didn’t think to tell him about her, and it was no use feeling scorned by the dead. 

 

Did he really have to write a reply to this letter? He debated just ignoring it, how would anyone know if it didn’t just get lost out there? It probably wasn’t easy delivering letters to and from a ship. A lot of calculations and estimates… but he was getting off topic. He steeled his nerves and picked up the pen again. Feeling more and more like some kind of doll every second, he wrote an affirmative reply. He didn’t even want to think about Asougi getting the same treatment as this. But of course, Asougi was above agreeing to such an indecent proposal just to be able to go somewhere. Ryuunosuke huffed hysterically, placing the offending letter in an envelope. Writing back a letter of thanks was kind of normal in this situation, right? Susato absolutely could not find out what kind of.. transaction had just been made inside innocent, white envelopes.

 

——

 

He could say in good conscience that there were very few things that could surprise him anymore, especially with all that had already transpired. This happened to be one of those things. Who knew waiting with Susato for Professor Mikotoba to arrive would lead to a premature heart attack? All this action would surely end with him in an early grave. The moment of blissful ignorance that came with him not recognizing the tall, imposing man as his flittering nightmare these past few months had quickly passed. In its place was a cold sweat that persisted even as they lined up for a photograph. The man’s arm around his back was sending all signals except fatherly. If Ryuunosuke had a habit of fainting instead of his unbelievable perseverance to stress, this would be the perfect time to topple onto the floor. It might still be, the more shame-free part of his brain supplied. Surely everything would be forgotten if he caused such a ruckus? 

 

He was sure his heart would flee out of his chest when Jigoku took the moment of father and daughter reuniting to lean into his ear, making him feel the vibrations of his words, “Hello, Naruhodou-kun.” rather than hear them. Sure, it sounded kind of silly out of context, but the towering figure of the man behind him did a swell job of erasing any sense of comedy Ryuunosuke could have felt. After giving a tense but polite nod, he felt Jigoku’s hands meet his shoulders, slightly shaking with a friendly chuckle. Distantly hearing some form of reassurance being said to him, he wasn’t aware of much until they were leaving. Susato gave him a light poke on his back to get him to move. Upon feeling him jump under her finger, she gave him a concerned glance, and Ryuunosuke was once again amazed at how far they’ve come.

 

With the cold, cold sweat drying on his body, he couldn’t be all too sure that’s what was causing the shiver running through him. His fingers idly traced the piece of paper in his pocket. Probably slipped in there while the photo was being taken, he thought.

 

——

The Old Bailey was a risque place for something like this. He found himself growing colder and colder by the minute. He knew why he was here, the note was clear enough in its subtle way. The English government appointing a foreign Minister of Foreign Affairs a whole office, even for such a short stay… The line between courtesy and belittlement was truly a fine one. 

 

As he ascended the stairs, he was strangely calm. Like a death row inmate marching towards the rope. A fate he’d narrowly missed, funnily enough. His steps echoed in the grand hallway. The building was quiet but far from serene. For him, at least. As familiar as the courtroom itself had become… The rest of the courthouse, mainly the offices, would always remain alien to him. The door was large and imposing as all the others around it. He knocked twice, somewhat nervously. “Do come in, Naruhodou-kun.” a voice called from the inside. Ryuunosuke entered, closing the door behind him. He stood stock still, like that one time he had to go to the Principal’s office because he forgot his student ID number. Jigoku was no less condescending under his friendly façade.

 

The large man smiled at him, mischief burning in his eyes. Ryuunosuke thought about the door again. Maybe the scariest thing about Jigoku… was that he fit in, here. Huffing in amusement at the younger man’s refusal to sit down before being told to, he gestured loosely at the chair in front of the desk. “I’ve heard much about your cases, though I’d love to hear them from you. Would you have some tea, or perhaps… a drink?” the man’s voice was warm and rich, but it was no secret that he was sizing Ryuunosuke up, trying to make heads or tails of the man so devoted to the dead(or so bored, he might’ve thought) that he’d go to such lengths. “Tea would be alright.”, Ryuunosuke replied, voice lacking the stutter of his heart. Jigoku laughed heartily, getting out two cups from a cabinet behind him. “I had a feeling you’d say that,” he said leaning down, drawing the other’s attention to the kettle sitting on a miniature stove. 

 

After pouring the tea, the man raised a hand to halt Ryuunosuke, reaching under the desk to pull out a bottle of rum. “I’d say English tea is horribly bland on its own, no?” he said humorously. Sensing the other’s apprehension, “Oh, don’t be so shy, young man!” he said, topping both cups with the alcohol.

 

Ryuunosuke Naruhodou was a fair man. He did not leave anything out when recounting the events, regardless of how it made him look. The mix of black tea and rum burned his mouth, but it was nothing worse than some of Iris’ more experimental blends. That is not to say she made bad tea, most of her teas were heavenly, but some flavors were just not meant to become… tea. 

 

Besides that, as much as he’d like to be, Ryuunosuke was not as kind to himself as the Grim Reaper, and he did not drink. That is why, despite all his conflicting feelings, he refused any attempts to refill his cup. The older man did not seem to share the sentiment, however, for he doubted Jigoku would even remember much come tomorrow. Or maybe he himself was just a lightweight, it didn’t matter.

 

It didn’t matter because he already felt the wood floor creaking under his knees. And, as meaningless as it was now,

Close your eyes, Asougi.

 

… 

 

He swallowed up the salt of shame, tongue dragging across his lips.

 

——

 

He laid calmly, in the safety of 221B’s attic. His debt had been paid. Do you see, now?

[lordsalehi]

ʻ   / wow ,   i am so excited  to introduce berlin sari to  our current  students at cape  coral . she  is  extremely  excited to  join  track and field & honors society.   coming  in as a  twenty two year  old sophomore  ,  they  shouldn’t  worry about  fitting in .   the cis female  scorpio  has  always  reminded  me of medalion rahimi  , but  some people  don’t see it .   trying to keep the  fact that she’s the side piece of a cape coral parent   from  getting  around this  school is going  to be tough . no  worries , though ,   cape coral will create  a new life for them , i  assure you . ʼ  

my momma used to say ‘baby make me proud’, you’ve got such a pretty face, but such a dirty mouth

NAME — berlin avery salehi.

NICKNAMES — n/a?

PRONOUNS — she/her.

AGE & DOB — 22 & november 8, 1997.

PLACE OF BIRTH — lewiston, maine.

NATIONALITY — american.

MAJOR — music and audio engineering.

EDUCATION — prev. parker community college, now cape coral international.

CLUBS — honors society, track & field.

* background overview !

so for ten years, it was berllin, her older brother, her mom, and her dad. everything was honestly pretty normal, he worked as a bank teller and her mom was an elementary school teacher. 

when she was ten, her mom was diagnosed with ovarian cancer and began treatment, it was in the middle of her moms chemo treatments that her dad decided he was done and left the three of them on their own. 

her older brother was stuck taking care of them both, berlin helped where she could, but it wasn’t exactly in the means of income. 

her mom did go into remission, but later it came back when berlin was 15. as soon as she turned 16, it was her brothers turn to leave them, claiming he was tired of it.  

from then on, she taught both piano and guitar lessons to anyone who was willing to let her teach as a means to support herself and her mom. 

music was and always has been a massive part of her life and was one of the few things she used as an escape when everyday life was just Too Much, so getting to teach others was something she really liked to do. 

when she was 18, one of her student’s parents had taken an interest in her and invited her over for dinner where they offered her the opportunity to be with them. she said yes and began her secret relationship, mostly using the money they gave her to help pay rent and for groceries, or if it was things, then it allowed her to use the money from lessons for other things. 

she was taking classes at pcc mostly online so that she had more time to be at home, but when the parents she was dating mentioned that the school their child was attending, cape coral, was offering a scholarship they encouraged her to apply. 

* personality !

god she is... kind of a mess. 

like being bitter is probably one of her defining personality traits, and it’s not even towards rich people bc of their money or anything, she’s just like bitter that THIS is the life she ended up with.

she can definitely sit and just have a normal conversation without chewing someone’s head off but she never really seems particularly cheery.

she’s one of those people that likes to run to blow off steam, which isn’t the worst thing in the world, but she’ll leave and go running at like 2am bc she’s stressed. 

is a hardass and thinks she’s like top shit even though she has absolutely no reason to be? thinks because she doesn’t directly “engage” or involve herself in drama that she’s better than everyone

is NOT afraid to call you out on your bullshit bc she really doesn’t have time to deal with it at all 

really, keeps a lot of people at a distance and doesn’t really like getting close to people because they can just leave whenever they want to. and she’ll never admit it but she doesn’t want to get hurt.

she’s double majoring in music (basic she knows) but in audio production as well, eventually she wants to produce music, whether it’s someone else’s or her own.

prefers to keep her private life mostly private? like what and how much she shares honestly just depends on her mood.

* character tropes !

so i was thinking and really, she’s a bit of the Corruptor. which sounds bad, but it’s kinda like, she’s so far up her own ass she thinks she’s better than everyone and that people need to be brought down from their pedestals and clouds. so she tends to poke at people until they show their worst sides, or sides they don’t necessarily like very much. i also saw a little bit of the Femme Fatale in her too, just because she’s gorgeous (duh) and fully uses that to her advantage when she can, like the affair turned sugar daddy/baby situation she has with one of the cape coral parents.

* playlist !

kings — tribe society:

i’ve been through the darkest of caves and suffering one hundred  steps off the end of the road painted with passion, my favorite color hope i’m alive when the story gets old we could be free 

this goes with both her personality and her past tbh. she’s really headstrong and not afraid to take the lead on anything she’s passionate about, but also won’t let anyone else sway her opinion on anything, like at all. it’s like trying to push a round stone up a hill. when looking at her past, it’s not anywhere near rainbows and butterflies. her dad left her family when she was really young, and her mom has been sick with recurrent cancer for years. for a while, her older brother helped take care of her and their mom, but when she turned 16 he left, leaving her to fend for the both of them. as awful as it sounds, all she wants is to be free of everything that’s held her down, she feels bad for wanting out, but she’s so tired of it all now.

monsters — ruelle:

one misstep, you’re mine and you better stay clever if you wanna survive once you cross the line you’ll be wishing you would listen  when you meet your demise 

funnily enough, this isn’t really as serious as it should be. the vibe IS her, i’ll tell you, but this is really where the Scott Disick comes in. like she’s very take no shit but will definitely call you out on your shit. more of a if you make yourself look stupid, or give her the chance to roast/call you out, she will and isn’t really worried about what’s going to come from it. not her fault it could expose or embarrass you for any reason!

something to hold on to — the band camino:

do you ever think of me? after everything give me something to hold on to  i need just a little piece  i’ll take anything 

so this, two things as well. i know the song’s a breakup song but it’s kinda at her dad and brother for just up and leaving her and her mom, kinda like the one time she’ll show any vulnerability is when she really wishes they had stayed. but also, she’s really musical, it’s her one escape and this is probably the style of music she likes to listen to and play.

* aesthetics !

sneaking out at 2am, vintage t-shirts, scrunchies, the satisfaction of snoozing the alarm clock, worn combat boots, long sleepless nights, calloused fingers pulling at guitar strings, quiet sounds of piano, an exhausted body finally laying down to sleep, black coffee, backhanded compliments, stone cold stares, the lure of seduction.

* character inspo !

scott disick (kuwtk) , rebeca de bormujo avalos (elite) , jade west (victorious)

* wanted plots !

i’m still not any better at coming up w plots so this is the Same

general friends: honestly some from childhood, some from high school, others from college, give me New friend with the people coming on scholarship, anything

best friends: someone that’s been by her side for years, someone she’d literally trust with her whole life

ride or dies: honestly what it says, maybe like one or two of them that have been through the thick and thin of it but still have a really strong friendship in the end?

confidant: honestly, probably someone she’s close with, but doesn’t see on a regular basis? 

better influence: someone who can teach her to let go and ease up more, and to not be so angry all the time

exes ( good, bad, anything in between ): you know the drill, hit me with the good angst. (male, female, nb)

roommate: rent ain’t cheap! 

hook ups: you also know this drill, but this is pretty much all berlin does (male, female, nb)

[angelofthequeers]

Hold Me By Both Hands: Chapter 16

Disclaimer: I don’t own ML.

Chapter 15 | Chapter 17 | AO3 link

After all the excitement at the photoshoot and then Chloé’s party, the next week and a half of school is thankfully quiet, with the most exciting thing being Chloé glowering at Marinette whenever Adrien’s not looking because he still won’t talk to her. Although to be fair, that gets old after a few days anyway.

It’s not until one Thursday afternoon that things with Chloé come to a head. Marinette’s just finished in the bathroom and is about to head to the cafeteria to meet up with Alya, Adrien, and Nino, when the bathroom door slams open. She jumps back, eyes darting to the stalls behind her as a quick exit with their windows if it’s an akuma coming into the bathroom right now.

“Dupain-Cheng.” Chloé advances on Marinette, backing her into the bathroom wall. It’s only now that she’s close to Chloé that Marinette can see just how…imperfect the blonde is. Chloé’s makeup and clothes and hair are still impeccable, but this close to her? The way her bottom lip quivers and her eyes are ever so slightly red are very apparent.

“What is it, Chloé?” Marinette sighs. “If you're going to tear into me, it’s gotten old –”

“Teach me how to be nice.”

Marinette blinks. For a moment, her mouth can’t find the appropriate words in her brain for this situation, and she wonders if she’s stuck in some dream. Her shock must be plastered clean across her face, because Chloé huffs and crosses her arms.

“Trust me, the last thing I want is to be asking you for help,” Chloé snaps. “But Adrien won’t even say one word to me anymore unless it’s asking if I’ve learned how to be nice. And since it’s your fault that I lost my best friend, you can help me get him back.”

“My fault?” Marinette says incredulously. “What did I do? You’re the one who’s been picking on me and everyone else for years! I didn’t make Adrien do that to you! And if you really want him to be your friend again, you need to stop blaming everyone else for your rotten attitude!”

“That’s exactly what I’m talking about!” Chloé jabs a finger at Marinette. “You have this – this stupid moral compass where you know how to be good and nice and whatever!”

“Well, do you want to be nice for Adrien? Or for yourself?” Marinette says. “If you want to be nice just to get Adrien to be your friend again, you’re not going to stay nice. You’re not going to want to stay nice. And I’m not going to put the effort into helping you unless I know that you’ll be nice even after you get what you want. Not after you spent years bullying all of us, Chloé.”

“I never had a reason to be nice before,” Chloé says. “Being nice lets people walk all over you.”

“Nice doesn’t mean being a pushover,” Marinette counters. “You can be nice and still stand up for yourself. That’s something I’m learning.”

“Whatever. Look, are you going to help me or not? I want my best friend back.”

Marinette sighs. Is she really doing this? Yeah, she is. Doing this might help Chloé become a better person and stop bullying everyone.

“On one condition,” she says. “You actually try. I don’t want anything from you except a promise that you’re going to try and be a better person and not just pretend to be to get what you want. And I’m not going to hold your hand and tell you what to do every step of the way.”

“Yes, yes, whatever.” Chloé waves a hand. “You can come to the hotel after school and start teaching me. I’m not going to waste my precious lunch time.” She turns and struts out of the bathroom, leaving Marinette to try and process what had just happened and wonder if someone had tried to divide by zero and shattered the universe as they know it.

She debates all day about telling her friends about the confrontation in the bathroom, but eventually decides to stay quiet for now. Not only does she not want to give anyone false hope, but she also recognises that the trust Chloé has reluctantly shoved on her is tentative and breaking it could ruin what little chance there is of helping Chloé to be a better person.

When she gets to the hotel after school, she’s stopped by the same doorman as when she’d tried to get in during Prince Ali’s visit to rescue Tikki. He clearly remembers her from that time, if his unimpressed eyebrow-raise is any indication.

“I swear, I’m telling the truth,” Marinette insists. “Chloé’s expecting me.”

“Just as she was expecting her friend last time?” the doorman drawls. Marinette huffs.

“Just ask her!” she says. “You don’t even have to leave. Just get someone else to ask her and she’ll tell you.”

The doorman’s silent for a few moments, no doubt weighing up whether she’s bluffing or genuinely wants him to alert Chloé of her presence. His fear of upsetting Chloé seems to win out, as he reaches into his pocket to pull out a small phone. After a minute of Marinette fidgeting with her fingers and wondering if Chloé’s just playing a huge joke, because it would be like her, the doorman clears his throat and steps aside.

“Go right on up, Miss Dupain-Cheng, and don’t hesitate to ask for assistance if you need it,” he says in a far friendlier tone. Marinette just smiles and slips through the massive double doors behind him, then heads for the elevator and takes it to the top floor. Once she’s standing outside Chloé’s bedroom door, it takes a good minute of nibbling her lip and taking deep breaths to steel herself before she’s finally able to knock.

“Ugh, finally. I swear, it’s so hard to find competent staff these days,” Chloé scoffs when she opens the door. She stands aside to let Marinette in, and Marinette has to school her features into surprise and act like she hasn’t seen this room plenty of times as Ladybug. Or, to be more accurate, this massive entrance chamber of Chloé’s whole suite.

“It’s…big,” Marinette finally says.

“This? Big?” Chloé says. “Oh, right. I forgot that you’re just a baker’s daughter.”

“You know, I can just walk right back out if you’re not serious about learning to be nicer,” Marinette says. “And I can’t think of anyone else who’d agree to help you.”

“Right, like you’re not just doing this to suck up to Adrikins.”

“Funnily enough, some people do things because it feels good to be nice and helpful. And if you think the only thing I’m getting out of this is impressing Adrien, you’ve clearly forgotten the past few years before he even came along.” Marinette crosses her arms. “I’m actually being pretty selfish in doing this, you know. My life will be a whole lot better without you being mean all the time. And so will everyone else’s.”

“So, Dupain-Cheng’s got bite.” Chloé smirks and leads Marinette through the right door and into her sitting room, where a tray of snacks such as cut fruit and sushi rests on the glass table. Chloé settles herself on one of the chairs and waits until Marinette hesitantly sits down in an adjoining seat before speaking again. “Alright, chop, chop. How do I be nice?”

“First, you figure out why you want to be nice,” Marinette says. “Because if it’s just to make Adrien happy, I’m walking straight out of here. You have to have a reason for yourself or you’ll never stay nice.”

“Then why are you nice?”

“Because it makes me feel good. I like seeing people happy because of something nice that I’ve said or done.”

“Boring,” Chloé sings. Marinette resists the urge to roll her eyes.

“Well, if you’re nice then people will like you,” she says through gritted teeth, wondering why she even agreed to do this. “And if people like you then they’ll treat you better. Which means they’ll want to do more things for you.”

“Wait, so I can actually get something out of being nice?” Chloé says. Marinette considers rushing out to Chloé’s balcony and throwing herself over the railing.

“Not that you should want to be nice for selfish reasons, but yes,” she says. “And then once it becomes habit, you’ll find that you like being nice –”

“Don’t worry about that part,” Chloé says. “Let’s focus on the part where being nice gets me stuff.”

“It’s not as simple as saying a few nice things,” Marinette says. “You have to keep showing that you mean it, or people will see that you’re being fake. I suggest you start treating Sabrina nicer.”

“What do you mean? Sabrina loves me!”

“You treat her like a servant!” Marinette strongly considers throwing the piece of pineapple in her hand at Chloé – it’ll blend in nicely with the other girl’s hair and jacket – but she forces herself to not lose her cool. “You make her do your homework, steal for you, whatever else you say!”

“I give her gifts all the time! I gave her an old dress of mine just the other day!”

Breathe, Marinette. Breathe. Don’t beat up the annoying blonde. “Just because you give Sabrina your old things doesn’t mean that you’re being nice to her,” she says. “Try thanking her for doing your homework. Ask her opinion on things and don’t think that she agrees just because she rushes to back you up. Treat her like an actual person.”

“Okay, sure, whatever. Is that all I have to do? Sabrina’s coming over to do my homework for me right about now and I don’t want her seeing us associating like this.”

Marinette forces a smile and says, “Oh, there’s a lot more to being nice, Chloé. A lot more. But that’s for you to figure out, not for me to coddle you over. And I’ve got some homework for you to do without Sabrina’s help.”

“Wait, there’s homework?” Chloé whines. “I didn’t know you’d be making this like school!”

“Your homework is to think of a nice thing to say about every single person in our class.” Marinette ignores Chloé’s complaining, for her own sanity. “Then you’re going to go up to each person and say it tomorrow. I really don’t care if you can’t bring yourself to do it for me, but I want you to do it for everyone else. And no, it can’t be a backhanded compliment,” she says before Chloé can even open her mouth. “It has to be something genuinely nice.”

“But what if there’s nothing nice to say?” Chloé says. “What if their outfit and their hair and everything is ugly?”

“Think of something!” Marinette throws her hands up. “Offer them advice if you absolutely have to, just in a helpful way! If you want to be nice then you need to practice, and you need to make others believe that you’re trying.”

“This is all such hard work,” Chloé sighs, sprawling dramatically in her chair.

“Which is something you need a lot of practice at,” Marinette deadpans.

“Oh, whatever. Get out of here, Dupain-Cheng. And you’re not to come back unless I ask you to.”

“Believe me, it’s not like I’d want to come unless I had to.”

There’s a twisted sense of curiosity about Marinette when she races to school the next day as to what exactly Chloé’s going to say, or if she’s even done the homework in the first place. Everyone else is already in the classroom by the time a breathless Marinette tumbles through the door, although no one spares her a second glance, no doubt used to her being late all the time by now.

“Girl, I think there’s an akuma or something,” Alya comments when Marinette sits down.

“Akuma? Where?” Marinette bolts upright, ready to make her excuses and rush off to transform. In front of her, she notices that Adrien’s back is stiff as a rod, although she doesn’t pay it much mind when she’s already scanning for the threat.

“Chloé.” Alya points at Chloé, who’s sitting in her usual seat with crossed arms and a scowl. “She said that she thought Rose’s dress was sickeningly cute in a princess-y kind of way. Then she said that Nathaniel could at least draw more than basic shapes. She’s being…kind of nice again.”

Marinette fights to keep the smile off her face. Maybe Chloé really was genuine about wanting to change and be nice. As if reading her mind, Chloé looks over her shoulder at Marinette and curls her lip, although there’s nowhere near the usual amount of malice present in her sneer. When Marinette smiles at her, she sniffs and looks back at the front, ponytail whipping around.

“Thank…you…for doing my homework, Sabrina,” Chloé says loudly. Her voice carries across the classroom, although this is probably just because everyone’s gone dead silent to stare at her. Sabrina looks like she’s questioning reality.

“Um…it’s no problem, Chloé?” the redhead says slowly. “You know you don’t have to thank me for it.”

“Well, I thought it would be…nice. To show that I…appreciate you. You’re…a good friend.”

“What the heck is going on?” Marinette hears Alix mutter from the other side of the classroom. “Did an akuma zap her or something?”

“Oh, thank you, Chloé!” Sabrina throws her arms around Chloé, who stiffens and puts on a pained smile.

“You’re wrinkling my jacket!” the blonde says. Sabrina immediately lets go.

“Sorry!”

“It looks like Chloé can be nice if she wants,” Marinette says loudly. Chloé turns to shoot her a death glare but when Marinette just nods down at Adrien, Chloé’s glare immediately morphs into a big smile.

“Of course I can, Dupain-Cheng!” Chloé says. “You see, Adrikins?”

“I’m proud of you, Chloé,” Adrien says, leaning forward to rest his weight on his forearms. “I hope you keep it up so that we can be friends again.”

Chloé’s smile turns rather forced. “…Sure, Adrikins. Of course.”

Marinette just sits back in her seat to survey her handiwork rather smugly. If she was a meaner person then she’d probably take a lot more joy in the power she has over Chloé…but she’s not like Chloé, so she just keeps her less than savoury thoughts to herself and waits for Ms Bustier to arrive and start the lesson.