#given the familiar responsibilities i have and how that directly influences my entire life

[boisei]

i have got to do something about my inferiority complex. it honestly just feels like i am never good enough and am always an afterthought. idk whatever fuck this fuck life fuck it all

[guardianspirits13]

I wanna talk about Natsuo Todoroki for a second here.

tw// mentions of abuse, self harm, and suicide

Natsuo visibly has the most emotional trauma out of anyone else in his family (Touya not included), and I really wanna talk about why that is.

For starters, we haven't seen him really smile since he was introduced in chapter 187. He's introduced as having a friendly, easygoing persona and it's easy to imagine this is how most people outside of his family know him. However, every time we see him appear since then, another layer of his trauma is revealed and expanded upon, and it cuts DEEP.

I think the main reason that Natsuo still seems so vulnerable compared to the rest of his family is different than what you'd assume. Fuyumi and Shouto both spend a lot of time around Endeavor, and have been in close proximity to his (relatively recent) decision to atone. They have seen his growth firsthand and come to terms with it. Rei has obviously taken a very different path to healing- not entirely voluntarily- but she has been working with doctors and therapists for years to change and recover and reconnect with herself and her children. Natsuo is off at college, and takes every opportunity he can to avoid Endeavor. He (understandably) wants nothing to do with him, and shows stagnant resistance to his attempts to atone.

The reason why Natsuo can't move on from the past is because his trauma didn't come from Endeavor. It came from Touya.

Now initially we were led to believe that it was simply Touya's untimely death that still bothers Natsuo, and it makes sense seeing how Endeavor drove him to the edge. Losing his best friend and brother as a young kid without parents to support him or any therapist to speak of can absolutely been the source of persistent emotional damage, but the more and more we learn about Touya's situation, the more evident it becomes that Natsuo's trauma is much much deeper than even grief.

Touya, as we know, was driven by an ambition instilled in him by his father and experienced extreme rejection sensitivity when those ambitions were no longer realistic. Touya's relationship with his parents could be described as insecure attachment, a psychological term primarily regarding how kids react and respond to their parents and other close relationships. As he was raised, Touya learned to equate his potential to be a hero with his personal worth and similarly confounded attention with love. The difference being, of course, that love is unconditional, but even attention was being continually directed away from him as a punishment for continuing to train and burn himself so he could once again become worthy in his fathers' eyes.

This is where Natsuo comes in. At first it was assumed that all of the Todoroki children were born out of Endeavor's strong-willed desire to have a child that could surpass All Might, but we learned that this isn't exactly the case. I'd argue that it was narratively poetic on Horikoshi's part once this was expanded upon. Fuyumi was born to support and encourage her brother, and that is the exact role she plays 23 years later, keeping her family together.

Natsuo's case is even more intersting.

It was bad enough if Natsuo was only born for the potential of his quirk, but it's even more sinister that the sole intent behind his birth was to discourage Touya from his ambitions. I'd say it was to replace him, but it was more to promote the idea that Touya was expendable than to raise aonther kid with the same ideals but the potential to actually achieve it, although that was definitely a secondary motivation.

The parallelism in this is how much Natsuo's life revolves around Touya. He was born because of Touya, he looked up to and took care of Touya as a kid, and the absence of Touya in the present continues to drive him and his decisions in life (but more on that later).

I continue to pray that we will eventually get more solid backstory on Natsuo and Touya's relationship as kids and where it cut off, wether on a bad note or not, but there are a few things we know for certain. One, Touya was mentally ill. Yes, he was rejected by his parents but he seems to have been particularly vulnerable to this compared to any of his siblings since he was the first of them and thus relied only on his parents for validation in his early years. He shows early signs of a variety of different mental disorders, particularly BPD, which I have previously written a whole analysis for on its own. Touya is shown self-harming both by the very nature of his quirk and even by very directly ripping his hair out. He was incredibly self-destructive.

This is why it is so much more concerning to me that Natsuo, who was AT LEAST four years younger than him, was his primary source of comfort. Natsuo was too young to have known anything more than 'my big brother is sad that daddy won't train him anymore' and he obviously wasn't equipped in any way to handle Touya's severe mental illness. Touya most definitely needed professional treaatment as his forms of coping were abnormal even for the neglect and rejection that he experienced. Natsuo comforted Touya through breakdown after breakdown, and more than that Touya relied on him and came to him voluntarily for support. Natsuo was the best option he had, and he took full advantage of that. The main source of Natsuo's trauma was Touya's reliance on him.

Not to say at all that this was in any way Touya's fault- he was mentally ill and desperately in need of some form of comfort to keep him sane; it was almost a survival method at this point since neither of his parents really acknowleged him at all anymore. Touya's instability hurt Natsuo more than parental neglect ever did, but it was the neglect that enabled it and striped Touya of the supportive atmosphere he would have needed at this point not only to prevent but to heal from the mental damage he had already suffered.

Natsuo dealt with this for years and you can see how much it hurt him to see Touya in so much pain, not only from Endeavor's rejection but from his own self harm as well. For Natuso to know that his brotherly love would never be the same as having loving parents; would neve be enough- but at least it was something so he continued to love and care about his brother for little in return- is indicative of the kind of character he is.

(Edit: After the events of chapter 302 we know that Natsuo's relationship with Touya wasn't perfect. I will elaborate more on this in a different post, but I just wanted to clarify that although we were shown a very high-tension scene between them, it is implied that this was a regular occurrence that Natsuo was usually more receptive too but tired out of, in addition to Touya's spiraling mental health. It fit with the natrative to show the tension Touya was feeling with his family from all directions, but Natsu and Touya clearly had a stronger relationship up to and before this point, evidenced by their sharing a room and playing together regularly.)

He is incredibly selfless, and it's interesting to note how many of his positive qualities as an adult stem from negative experiences as a kid. He never really felt love from his parents, so he relied on Touya (and likely also Fuyumi) for that as well. If he grew up learning he had to give love in order to recieve it back, it absolutely influenced who he became in the future, a solid example of this being the responsibility he feels to reach out and have a relationship with Shouto and further regrets that he wasn't able to help his abuse in the past either. Another aspect of his character that intruigues me is how gentle he is. Personality-wise he seems about as opposite as he could be from the awkward, stoic, emotionally-stunted person that is Endeavor.

There are a couple of reasons for this, beyond what I've already discussed.

One, he had little to no contact with elements of toxic masculinity growing up, especially not from Endeavor.

Two, most of the influence he did have growing up was from Fuyumi, who is established to have endlessly cared for him since he was a literal baby.

Three, he grew up in a household where almost everyone around him was in much more literal, immediate pain than he was so he developed a very strong sense of empathy that might also have been tied to early survivor's guilt.

Now I have one important distinction to make, and that's the temptation to label him as a 'softboy' or something of the like after seeing him caring for his family and more pointedly, watching him break down in tears during chapter 252. While there is absolutely nothing wrong with men being soft or vulnerable (on the contrary it's actually so so important and relevant that Hori is writing characters like this in a mainstream shounen manga but that's an essay for another time), it is unfair to label him as such based on a moment when his trauma is being exposed.

Because his truama stems from such a young age, there is a blurry line between just being born with more emotional intelligence and the situation he was in fostering those traits. You know, the classic nature/nurture thing. My point being, it's important to tread carefully when discussing the nature of his personality to avoid invalidating his trauma; I have no doubt that he is very strong for having survived these things, and the moments we see of him onscreen are definitely among his most vulnerable.

Another thing that people less familiar with Natsuo's character might assume is that he is hot-headed and argumentative. I thought that at first too- after all, he doesn't seem to shy away from yelling at Endeavor when given the opportunity. However, this doesn't seem to be the case at all.

The first real scene we see him in with Endeavor, the man walks into the room and Natsuo decides he can't handle it and goes to leave. However, Endeavor happens to be blocking the doorway. Endeavor physically stops him and provokes him to his face, asking him to say whatever is on him mind. While Natsuo is notably not confrontational, Endeavor is. I think it's fair to say that he felt at least uneasy at this gesture. Natsuo is very honest with his feelings, and it's obvious that he's pissed at the audacity of Endeavor to be so oblivious to his own son. This is presumably one of the first real interactions they've ever really had, and at this point Natsuo has been dealing with trauma (caused by Endeavor!) on his own for years, and Endeavor seems completely oblivious to his pain and dismmisive to the rest of the family's as well.

Again during the internship arc Natsuo tries to get along with Endeavor and this time he actually gives it a fleeting chance. Tensions are high, however, and the conversation very quickly becomes uncomfortable, at which point he leaves. It is continually implied that Natsuo is uncomfortable being around Endeavor because his very presence brings up painful thoughts and memories of a time when sharing the same space as him was a warning to run and hide. This is later directly confirmed by Natsuo as he says that every time he looks at Endeavor's face he remembers Touya and the pain he was in.

I feel like an important side note is that we have never seen Natsuo outside the context of his family, which is understandable, as the role he plays in the story directly relates to them. However, if you take a look at Shouto, even though his experiences have shaped him to become who he is, he definitely acts differently when Endeavor's not in the vicinity.

Back to Touya's death, it would be very rare that someone would mourn a death for an entire decade without finding closure unless there are other factors preventing it, and uncomfortably this seems to be the same thing for both Natsuo and Endeavor: guilt.

This is getting incredibly long already, but it's important to note that Natsuo probably felt an incredible responsibility to take care of Touya and protect him because of his empathetic nature. His love was never going to be the same as having loving parents. His encouragement was never going to be the same as having support from Endeavor. Even further than then neglect and abandonement, it was not being able to save Touya that really made Natsuo feel worthless.

He seems to try and remedy this inability to save Touya and diminish his guilt by doing everything he can to be better. He reaches out to Shouto to be a better brother, he consistently pushes his limits to entertain Fuyumi's notion of a happy family, and he's working hard towards a degree rhat will allow him to help people like Touya (and Rei) because he failed to do so in the past.

His bio mildly implies that he didn't have much of a direction he was heading in after high school, but Fuyumi's encouragement led him to seek out his current college career. This goes back to Natsuo's 'purpose' in a sense revolving arount Touya, from his birth to his relationship with him to his death, after which he lost his direction. They were always rather inseperable, so naturally their seperation hit Natsuo hard. He lost his direction in life so when Fuyumi encouraged him to rediscover it, he thought of helping people, because that's ultimately what he was born to do.

Thank you so, so much for reading this if you made it to the end! I clearly have a lot of thoughts on this. Let me know what you think about it as well, and hopefully we'll get more info on this soon in the manga :)

[acid-vanir]

Ok, Theory

Ok so in the webcomic Aurora, the “main” character Kendal is an entirely new uncategoriseable entity, a god’s incarnation that survived the god leaving it and developed its own mind and personality. 

Now the god that this happens to is the hero god of the city Vash and, like the Ancient Greek Eros or Nike is named after his domain. So what we know about Vash is that he cut his teeth in this god business by defending his city from and defeating the storm god Tynan, the way he does this is explained here with an in universe telling of the story. What we know is that an alien metal and jewel was worked into an incarnation of Vash at a thematically appropriate moment and became an extremely effective power up, enabling Vash to defeat the hitherto undefeated Tynan. 

Now how this works in the world built magic system of Aurora is really interesting. So in Aurora it appears they're are two (or eight depending on how you count it) fundamental substances of magic, the elements and soul energy, now we know where elemental magic comes from as a central piece of lore in the main storyline so far has been about the ancient war between the elementals and a Void Dragon and how the elementals died defeating this Void Dragon and their bodies meshed together supplying the materials as the world, but the elements still count, and can be persuaded to act, as one body essentially unique to the other elements and so because they belonged to a living entity with a soul can exist in two states, the material element and a sort of potential/soul element held in other materials or channeled by mages to enact elemental effects.

 Now soul energy is something very different and despite the excessive amount of time I've spent explaining the elements, is what we’re focusing on here. Soul  energy is what living things are “made of” being literally the material of souls, now I could be wrong but from I can figure out everything alive contains and in someway uses soul energy, and soul energy has a connection with other soul constructs allowing for an in any capacity uniform group of living things to develop a larger social soul that becomes a god. Vash for instance is a city of people and so through the interaction of their soul energy, construction of early incarnations, and people assigning these incarnations personality or motivations became the hero god the city imagined, as the god itself is made up of the whole cities population who once saw incarnation interpreted them a certain way and influenced some of their aspect. Basically, because the god is their domain how they are viewed by the creatures in their domain effects their personality and most comfortable form. 

So what does this really have to do with Kendal. Well if Vash’s sword was constructed from an alien metal, a solid substance, which issomething almost impossible to make without an elemental, after Vash worked his soul energy into like soul shaper monks do with human prosthetics, which would more than likely work some of this starmetal soul energy into his own soul lattice. Then its likely that Kendal’s soul is made of what little of soul star metal was in the solid material of the meteor. And it’s not just background lore magic systems backing this up.

In the series of pages telling the mythical story of Vash’s Sword we find out that it’s being told through the framing device of the smith god who forged it, to a similar style god to Vash of the Fire influenced race of Ignans. Now while why they're talking and what this incredibly effective smith who uses the arcs and emotional journeys of the wielders of his weapons in his smithing process is doing with a god of fire and fire people directly related to one of our adventuring party is incredibly plot important and personally intriguing, there is something else I wanted to focus on here.

In these panels Tahraim appears to be talking about Dainix, a character Kendal is currently imprisoned with and who are jelling suspiciously well. Now we can see that Tahraim is using his Xanatos gambit forging technique of social engineering to forge out a weapon and fighter for Caliban (probably to fight the fire demon from Dainix’s backstory (who is probably another elemental emissary for Fire (like two other characters currently being heavily associated star metal soul Kendall (I see you Red, with each subsequent layer of brackets I get closer to the truth, witness as my bracketry grows)))) and describing some of the forging fires he’s using fo this weapon (who is probably Dainix, if not definitely)calls one of them “the divine blade”, referring to Vash’s starmetal sword currently held by Kendal, but the blade its self is isnt world shaking, its been around for millennia and everyone is very familiar with its power and prowess as a sword because Vash is an incredibly well known god. But that’s only as a sword, and we know Kendal is world shaking after his discussion with Ilia here where he is told explicitly that the gods fear what he represents but respect the fact that he is an incredibly powerful being with all the strength and ability of a godly incarnation but with no responsibilities of upholding a domain or the limits of staying within they’re domains range. And so the theoretical soul that is Kendal in this incarnation must be made of whatever remainder of star metal soul is left from the solid  star metal in the sword. That had been given the shape and properties of a human/incarnation soul by being weaved into and by Vash and then had the Vash soul ripped apart from they’re shared incarnation leaving the star metal soul to have to develop as its own being in this body

And if all you wanted is proof of this theory you can honestly stop reading here. So far this is dense and a lot and I wanna run through some stuff with this head cannon to nerd out. So if you don't wanna have to read anymore, my argument for this theory is basically through

Kendal being the star metal soul can provide a reason for, guess plot dent instead of plot hole? when Vash takes Kendal to where he is being held by the Collector. The reason this could be a plot dent is that one of the working theories for why Kendal exists can be found in the Sentinels. Essentially building sized stone statues animated by a god semi incarnating in them, its hard to explain so if your interested read here (Also read the comic, it’s really, really good. Like really good. If you get into the extra lore on the website and then scroll through Red’s Aurora Tumblr answers you get to appreciate how truly spectacular her worldbuilding and magic systems are. I mean clearly they’re cohesive and well thought out enough that just off of the magic system you could make a (if I don't say so myself) well reasoned prediction for a major character reveal.) the theory being that because these Sentinels can develop these echoes after being un-possessed by a god over time, the unique way Vash was taken out of his incarnation without dis-corporating it that the body developed a similar echo and is now ambient soul energy drawn into the empty body. However, this wouldn't make sense with Vash taking Kendal to the Collector’s hideaway in his sleep, as if Kendal is made of ambient soul energy he has no actual connection with Vash’s soul and so Vash shouldn't be able to bring him to the crystal he is being held in. But, if Kendal is in fact the star metal soul then he would still have that connection with Vash, as they are the same soul but different parts made of different materials, and so ca operate separately whilst still being so intricately connected.

On one final note, there is one character that already seems to know all this, Tahraim. That Kendal in everyway is the weapon he forged, that they're is a capacity for new elements and therefore different soul energies, that Erin has been possessed by the Void Dragon, and that the Collector has revived life, who has taken Alinua as an emissary, and is using this information not for his own divine or dastardly machinations but on commission. Which is A) a potential threat if Tahraim turns out to be a tad more amoral than he first appears, working as effectively for the next customer instead of esoterically guiding events for the cause of good and B) show cases an incredible mesh of world building and character work with gods being influenced by how their perceived and a god perceived and heralded as an unachievably proficient smith knowing more than any other character or entity we’ve ever seen before and doing exactly what is necessary to forge his commissioned weapons into the most powerful and effective instruments they can be almost only because of how in the magic system some gods are made from ideals and interpretations instead of groups of living things and actually fits the way they are most commonly perceived

[forzalando]

The Perfect Arrangement | George Weasley | Pt. 2

Pairing: George Weasley x F!Reader AU: Bridgerton!AU Word Count: 2.2k Warnings: Bridgerton spoilers, a gross man stepping into your personal space, definitely not historically accurate bc i never mention chaperones 

Summary: As a woman in the early 19th century, you’ve been told all your life that marriage should be your ultimate goal, however, you do not share that sentiment. When the insufferable George Weasley devises a plan that may solve both your problems, how can you say no?

A/N: woohoo, part 2 is here!! not a whole lot of drama/interaction between George and the reader but some necessary developments. plus! Eloise! my favorite lady! as always, thank you so much for reading💛

“George, everyone is staring at us,” you whispered as you took his arm.

“Well, we are the most attractive couple promenading this morning, don’t you think?”

You stifled a laugh; partly because you didn’t want to draw more attention to yourself and partly because George’s ego was large enough without knowing you thought he was funny.

“Should I glare at the men staring at you? Let them know that they don’t have even an ounce of a chance?” George asked.

“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt,” you mused. “However, I don’t know how your sister would feel if every eligible man in the ton held disdain for her older brother.”

“Oh, please,” George scoffed. “You know as well as I do that Ginny is marrying Harry, it’s just a matter of time.”

You hummed in agreement, though slightly distracted by the way George held you so close. It was unnerving how comfortable you felt with him; most men had always made you uncomfortable, but never George. Even though he was incorrigible, garish, and irritatingly handsome, he never made you feel anything but at ease.

“Lord Beverly is approaching us,” George whispered, pulling you from your thoughts.

“Quick, say something funny and make me laugh, maybe he will turn around.”

“I’m not your jester, nor can I make you laugh on command. Comedy is derived from opportunity, and here, I have none, just your orders.”

“Now we’re quarreling, he’s walking even faster.”

“That’s your fault for acting like my sense of humor is at your beck and call!”

You turned sharply to face him; a scowl settled on your face and nostrils flaring. He was looking at you the same, with his eyes narrowed and a slight blush on his cheeks, whether it was from the summer heat or anger you couldn’t be sure. George opened his mouth to speak again, when someone interrupted him.

“Is this why you wouldn’t give me the honor of a dance at the Danbury ball, Miss Y/L/N?”

Lord Beverly was stood directly in your path, his hands clasped behind his back and a smarmy  smile on his face. He may have been handsome, but Philip Beverly was as horrid as men came.

“I do apologize, Lord Beverly,” you retorted, sickly sweet. “Mr. Weasley has been the object of my affections for quite some time now and I simply could not bring myself to imagine myself with anyone but him all night.”

You looked up at George and smiled, staring into the warmth of his eyes and heaving a dramatic sigh; one you hoped was the sigh of a woman in love.

“Yes, I suppose I understand your trepidation,” Lord Beverly scowled. “However, I have been speaking with your father this morning and I believe Mr. Weasley has not yet proposed, is that correct? Lord Y/L/N made it quite clear he has not received any mentions of a proposal.”

“Why, yes, of course he hasn’t. He has barely begun courting me, the season only began a week or so ago.”

“You’ve known each other for years, surely you must know by now if you are to propose, Mr. Weasley?”

George looked to you for guidance, just as confused as you at the interrogation taking place between the two of you and Beverly.

“As Miss Y/L/N said before, we’ve barely begun courting. I have always had the intention of marrying her, ever since we were children, but I wanted to make sure we are comfortable as partners, not just friends.”

“I am quite wealthy, you know,” Beverly reminded. “My family has considerably higher standing than the Weasley’s and there is so much more I could offer you than he can, Y/N.”

Lord Beverly took a step towards you, completely ignoring George standing beside you, but before you could ask him to step away, George thrust himself in between the two of you.

“If you ever so much as look at my future wife again, I assure you that you will see just how much influence my family has, Lord Beverly,” George spat. “You flaunt your money, your perceived power, when I have friends in much higher places than you could ever dare to dream.”

Philip backed away; his ever present smirk still adorning his face but he could not hide the glint of fear in his eyes.

“Well, I suppose I’ll be on my way,” Beverly grimaced.

“Yes, you shall,” George responded with a glare that would frighten even the most courageous of men.

As soon as Lord Beverly was out of earshot, you breathed out deeply. There was something about that man that made your skin crawl, more so than the other slimy, rich men of the ton.

You laughed quietly, and kept laughing until you were in a fit of giggles, prompting George to look at you quizzically.

“Y/N, what could possibly be so funny about being accosted by that scum?”

“I’m not entirely sure, I just find it amusing how intimidating you can be when you really try. You should be an actor, you know.”

“An actor? Why do you think so?”

“You played the part of a jealous lover far better than I ever could. One might believe you’re actually in love with me,” you snickered.

If you had looked at George for even a moment after your joke, you would have seen the hurt expression flash across his face. He tried to keep it at bay, but the reminder of the nature of your relationship ate at him far more than he imagined.

He had convinced himself that in time, your feelings for him would grow; how could they not when he was so sure that you were soulmates? Destined to be together for the rest of your lives? In doing so, he never stopped to think of the consequences of his actions if you were to never return his affections.

George began to wonder if his heart could bear it, because every time he looked at you and saw your beautiful smile, he felt it breaking piece by piece.

“What do you say to that, Weasley?” you asked with a smile, breaking George from his thoughts.

“I’m…I’m sorry, I was distracted, what were you saying?”

“Pay attention, Georgie, otherwise you might lose your only current prospect for marriage.”

“You’re my only prospect, period, not just current,” he chuckled.

For a moment, you allowed yourself to believe the weight behind his words was truthful, that your courtship was real and true. You’d convinced yourself for years that you held George Weasley in no higher regard than an acquaintance, but at any given moment where you were in the same room you always found your way to each other; bantering back and forth that, to an outsider, must have looked like disdain, but in your heart you knew that you held him at arm’s length to keep yourself from falling.

It had only been a week since the Danbury ball, but spending every day in secret with George (the two of you weren’t quite ready to announce to the public yet until today) and getting to know him as more than just a friend had opened your heart to frightening feelings that you shoved aside.

George Weasley had always wanted to marry for love, an ideal that you never allowed yourself to believe in and now, he was to marry you only because the true object of his affection was not an option.

“Yes, I suppose you’re right. Does that…does that bother you? Do you have any regrets about what you asked me?”

“I’m not sure yet,” George whispered, dropping your hand that he had held so tightly the entire morning.

No, you simply couldn’t allow yourself to entertain the foolish fantasy of feelings, not when you had the sole responsibility of taking care of your own heart.

“Walk me home, please, Mr. Weasley.”

“As you wish, Miss Y/L/N.”

“Y/N Y/L/N,” cried a familiar voice from across the street.

You turned with a smile to see Eloise making her way towards you, her journal in hand as always.

“Thank you for walking me home, George, you can be on your way. I’ll see you tomorrow evening for the Norrington soiree, correct?”

“I wouldn’t miss it. Have a lovely day, Miss Y/L/N.”

He quickly raised your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. Even though you were cross with him, you smiled shyly at the feeling of his lips on your hand, though it slowly faded away as you realized it was all a show for the audience on the street.

As Eloise hurried to you, you couldn’t help but watch George’s back as he walked down the cobblestones towards his own home.

“How dare you? I had to hear from gossiping mother hens this morning that George Weasley is formally courting you? Not only that, but he plans to propose to you? What happened to never marrying? Does your family know? The whole ton has been talking about it!”

“I – I don’t understand, this morning was our first outing together, I’ve just been spending time with him at his family’s home. How could anyone possibly know – ”

You paused, remembering your conversation with Lord Beverly earlier that morning.

“Oh, for goodness sake. Lord Beverly went to my father this morning while I was out with George, asking about proposing to me.”

“LORD BEVERLY?” Eloise shouted, interrupting your explanation.

“Yes, I know. A horrid man, but I don’t believe he will be bothering me any longer. George practically had him running away in fear but, as I was saying, Lord Beverly went to my father and of course I haven’t told my parents of our marriage plans yet, we’ve only just begun courting, so Papa told Beverly that I have no prospects. He approached George and I on our promenade, and practically interrogated us! One thing led to another and George expressed his desire to propose and, well, here we are. Beverly must have opened his mouth and now everyone in town knows.”

Eloise stared at you blankly, her wide eyes blinking rapidly trying to process all that you had just told her.

“Are you in love with George?”

“It appears so…”

You hated lying to her, but you and George hadn’t discussed if you would ever tell anyone and who you trusted to tell in the first place.

“Well, it’s about time!” Eloise yelled in your ear.

“I – excuse me?”

“Oh, you can’t possibly tell me you’ve been oblivious to his feelings all these years. And your own! It’s been painful watching you drone on and on about how you’ll never marry when he’s been right in front of you since we were children.”

“Eloise, you have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“What do you mean, he’s courting you and is planning to propose, what is there to misunderstand?”

“Quite a lot, if I’m being honest.”

Eloise saw the guilty look on your face and immediately her jaw dropped, memories of her sister and the Duke clouding her thoughts.

“Of all the lousy schemes to get yourself involved in, Y/N, I cannot believe you. It’s all a ruse?! Is this a common theme with the prized debutante of the season, am I missing something?”

“Quiet yourself, Eloise! It’s quite simple, George cannot marry the woman he loves and I do not wish to marry. We get along fairly well and have things in common. We figured it would be to both of our advantages if we married each other and were able to live our lives as we please without people breathing down our necks about marriage.”

“You are truly oblivious, Y/N.”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“George Weasley has loved you for years, I didn’t think it was a secret. The only issue is that you’re too stubborn to look past this aversion to happiness you’ve been harboring.”

“Education makes me happy. Traveling the world would make me happy. My own wants and desires make me happy. I don’t need a man or love to be happy, I thought you of all people would understand, Eloise.”

“I do understand, and because I do, doesn’t that make what I say all the more believable?”

Your reply got caught in your throat, the weight of Eloise’s words left a heavy feeling in the pit of your stomach.

“I see the way you look at him, Y/N,” she continued. “You’ve convinced yourself so greatly that there isn’t a man who will love you for who you are that you’re blind to your own affections and the fact that there is a man who loves you exactly as you stand before me. You’re just afraid. I never thought I would call you a coward – ”

“That is quite enough, Eloise,” you snapped.

“I will relish in saying ‘I told you so,” she quipped back.

You watched her turn swiftly and did the same; stalking into the courtyard and up the stairs to your own home, all the while pondering the words you had shared with Eloise.

Secretly, in the depths of your heart where you never dared to venture, you hoped that she was right about George’s feelings for you, and that thought scared you more than anything.

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[kissandmxkeup]

Royal Guard!Johnny

here for the obligatory annual “yes i’m still around and yes i know where my computer keyboard is” post, may do more but probably not tbh. if you’re still here and reading, i love you and also highly question why you’re so dedicated. not that i mind, i truly appreciate it, but still.

also, this is female!reader because i had so much trouble writing this in a gender-neutral manner. if you want a gender-neutral/male!reader version, let me know and i’ll do my best!

Always cordial and polite, not just with you but anyone he comes across

So many of the guards tend to have this air of superiority, talking down to those that aren’t within their ranks or of a higher status, but Johnny has the same level of manners for the elderly shopkeeper in town as he does for you, the crown princess of the country

Not only that, he’s also extremely attentive to your needs, even the ones that he isn’t necessarily responsible for

He always has a bag with first-aid supplies, snacks, water, and even portable chargers and a Game-Boy somewhere within reach

And he’s always willing to have a conversation with you, listen to your concerns and worries and sorrows

You actually came to know Johnny when he was guarding your brother, a seven year old who was incredibly funny and also insanely gross 

After your brother turned ten he was sent off to a private school with their own security teams, so Johnny was moved over to you

You loved being around him; his positivity and kindness could melt even the toughest of moods, something your mother had noticed when she was looking for his new assignment 

You remember when she called Johnny to the throne room; he’d still been just barely an adult then, looking young and boyish in armor slightly too big for him He had bowed deeply to her, so much that the weight of the heavy metal chainmail nearly tipped him over, and she smiled back as she informed him that he was being removed from his position with your brother, that he would now be tasked with being in your guard. He had given her a nod and an “as you wish” that was almost too wavering with forced professionalism before turning to you with a nervous little grin, asking what you needed of him in a way that had melted your heart.

Over time, the two of you had grown into a rhythm; you would walk the gardens in the morning, him following like a shadow as you chatted with the gardeners and groundskeepers. After that you would tend to your schoolwork, and then the minor royal duties you were given after you’d finished your education, occasionally letting him distract you with stories of the younger guards’ antics as you tried to pass time until dinner, and then at the end of the day you would always sit and talk together about the country.

Even when you were young, you were always looking to improve the life of the commoners of the land, and given his background, Johnny was much more connected to them than you could ever be. He had influenced policies you’d drafted on education, social welfare programs, and even some of your first quality-of-life recommendations like repairing historical sites and landmarks in the smaller villages of the country, such as the town he had visited often as a child. You were beloved in your country, and had become lauded as the “princess of the people,” always pushing for your constituents to be represented and thought of at every turn, but you always made sure that Johnny knew that you couldn’t do any of it without him by your side. 

However, those outside of your borders tended to see you as much less kind and gentle, but rather stubborn and almost bitchy. You wouldn’t let your country’s people be used or walked over, refusing to give in to the demands of others that saw you as small and weak and risk your citizens’ wellbeing in the process. You sat in meeting with lawmakers, voice steady as you refused to even consider letting your constituents have their taxes raised in the name of increasing their own salaries, clashed with conglomerates that wanted you to turn a blind eye to pollution and mistreatment of their workers, even going as far as pressuring officials into dissolving royal contracts with major companies that relied on unfair practices, and you had even notably walked out of a meeting with a royal from another family after they had insinuated that perhaps you had let your public persona blind you to what was truly good for your country (in this case, letting their country use your resources without regard to the needs of the the common folk of yours).

Some other players in larger, wealthier countries had even decided that you were too much of an inconvenience, made too much noise, and wanted to eliminate you from your country’s line of succession by any means necessary. Because of this you had come to be assigned more guards over time, generally keeping a rotating team that you had jokingly nicknamed the 127 Squad because they seemed to have an endless supply of members. Some members like Ten, or Lucas rotated in during special occasions like state visits, and you occasionally had a knight-in-training such as the quiet Renjun or the child-like Jeno in addition to the usual two or three full-time guards. 

There were eight other consistent members that you had come to be familiar with, though; Haechan was loud and boisterous in a manner quite similar to your brother, while his best friend Mark was quiet, shy, and a little nervous with a sword despite all of his experience. Taeyong, Taeil, and Doyoung treated you like their child in different ways, and Jungwoo was dreamy and often in his own head (although you weren’t sure if maybe that was just a facade, since he was one of the first to act if you felt in danger). Your favorite story was how poor Jaehyun and Yuta had been banned from attending public events after they went unintentionally viral for their handsome looks during a press conference about a new retirement plan you had orchestrated.

Johnny was always the constant, though; he was at every event, every meeting, always directly to your right in a manner that had started more than one rumor about your professional relationship and how it was more than just professional after all. And as much as you would never admit it, you hated the rumors because of their semi-truth; sure, you weren’t in a relationship, but it’s not like you would be opposed to that at all. 

He was just as kind and funny as ever, but more mature and elegant now; he would help you out of your car even if there was a chauffer that was supposed to fill that role, lift children on his shoulders during your usual visits to local schools and smile with pride as they giggled and screamed. He would even sit next to you and run his hand between your shoulder blades when you had panic attacks about whether you were really fit to lead the country, reassuring you that your people loved you for a reason; not to mention that he had become very attractive over time; the boyish smiles were now replaced with kind grins, his armor now fit him like a glove, and every time he sowed the protective nature that he had developed toward you, you would swoon a little on the inside.

But there were strict rules about romance between royals and staff, if anyone found out that you even had a crush on him he would be moved out of your team and possibly out of your family entirely, which you couldn’t stand the idea of. So you kept your mouth shut, never letting your inhibitions take over you when he called your name with a kindness that made your knees weak, or when he would step in front of you in a protective manner at a rare threat made directly to your face. You had done well with it too, up until you had gone on your first state visit to another country without your parents or any other major officials.

You had been sent out to visit a country run by a set of princes almost double your age, with nobody but five members of your guard (Taeyong, Doyoung, Mark, Jaehyun, Ten, and of course Johnny) alongside you. The men were all openly uncomfortable with your presence at times; sometimes this was shown by you being excluded from conversations about “grown-up matters that didn’t concern you,” as you had once overheard the crown prince Leeteuk commenting, to even pressuring you with questions and comments that were bizarre at best and outright offensive at worst. You had tried to brush it off, since the visit was less than a week and very important, but it was hard to do so when you felt like you were having the life sucked out of you.

It wasn’t until the last day when you had finally had enough; Leeteuk had sat across from you, flanked by all of his fellow princes, and pushed a document that looked way too official to be presented in such a way to your side of the table with an expectant glare.

“What is this?”

“It’s the resolution that we’ve all been working on this week, I expect you to sign it for us now.”

“I’m sorry, I won’t sign something unless I know its contents. If you give me some time to look over it, I’d be happy to come back with my concerns and a signature if I feel it’s mutually beneficial.”

“I’m sorry?”

One of the other princes, Shindong, looked down at you with a glance of something resembling anger, and you could almost hear Johnny and Taeyong tensing at your sides, preparing to step in should the princes show signs of being a threat to your well-being.

“I mean, you say that it’s the resolution we’ve been working on, but I’ve been constantly shuttered out of any meaningful conversation about this legislature since I arrived. I don’t know what’s been done in front of me, let alone without me present, and by signing it I could be agreeing to any number of measures I don’t agree with or understand. I will not sign this unless I am given an adequate chance to look over it and bring my own concerns forward as a representative of my country.”

“See, I don’t think you understand how this works. You are in our country, under our roof, and we fully expect you to comply with our expectations while here. So you will sign this document.”

“Or what?”

You straightened yourself out, glaring daggers at the youngest prince (Kyuhyun, you believe) that had been so demanding to you. You could feel Johnny resting a hand on your shoulder, reassuring but warning, as Taeyong stepped out to certainly inform the other guards of the situation and have them start collecting your things to go home.

“If you force me to sign it, I and my guards will both bring the manner forward publicly that it was signed under duress. Any measure that you believe you could take to force me, such as physical punishment or holding me hostage, is an act of war by your government against a foreign diplomat on your soil and will be treated as such. I will not be threatened, forced, or coerced into giving my consent in a matter I do not understand, and the idea that I would do such a thing is actively preposterous at best and offensive at worst. So if you don’t mind, I will be leaving your country at the earliest opportunity, since it’s clear that you have no intent of cooperating with me and I will not stay in a place where I feel unwelcome and endangered. If this is an issue, please feel free to take it up with my guards or any citizen of my country, who will happily inform you of my stance on public policy that would affect them.”

You stood to leave, and Siwon matched your movement, grabbing your wrist with such force that you audibly hissed.

“Little girl, this is no business for you to be fighting against. Sign the papers and then you can go whenever you please.”

“My princess has stated that she intends to leave,” you were surprised by Johnny, stepping forward, forcing Siwon’s hand off of you before carefully pushing you behind him with one arm to shelter you from the men in front of you, “and as far as I am concerned, she gets what she wants when it’s her well-being at risk. Please stand down and allow her to leave, since we mean no harm. I’m sure that if this legislature is as important as you state it to be that she would need to blindly sign onto it, the king and queen would happily do instead, so I implore you to speak to them about the matter.”

Johnny walked you out, a hand around your waist with a stern expression as he kept looking back to the room of bewildered and infuriated princes. It wasn’t until he had accompanied you back to your room, firmly shutting and locking the door behind him, that he let the cold demeanor slip away. He asked how you were, a nervous expression on his face at the situation you had found yourselves in.

“I just...I want to go home. I want to go home and rest, and be with my family and friends again. I don’t feel safe here.”

He nodded solemnly, fingers dancing across your wrist as he lifted it to the level of your chest, scowling at the already-deepening purples and yellows where you’d been held.

“I’m sorry, I should have stepped in sooner.”

“You did everything right. You tried to let me handle it, and protected me when I couldn’t do it anymore.”

You leaned into his touch, and he seemed almost surprised as you let yourself fall completely into his arms, barely catching you. He held you upright for a moment, only pulling back when he noticed that you had started to cry.

“Princess...”

“Please, call me by my name. We’re friends, you deserve that much.”

He did so, gently taking you back into his grasp and reassuring you with a gentle swaying as you awaited the word of Taeyong that you could leave.

“I’m sorry, I can’t keep doing this anymore.”

He pulled back, concern and worry apparent in his expression at your bizarre change in tone.

“Can’t do what?”

“I..look, I love you. Not as my guard, not as my friend, but in a way that’s so much more than that. And I’ve been so scared to tell you because I knew it could get you taken from me, but you deserve to know. You’ve been nothing but kind and wonderful and hell, you’re perfect, but I can’t keep standing here, falling in love a little more every time you so much as look at me without telling you about it.”

He looked confused for a moment, but surprised you with a large, almost goofy smile that reminded you of your younger days with him.

“Don’t act like that, like it’s the end of it. I know it’s not allowed, just as much as you do, but I love you too and I’ve wanted to tell you forever.”

You laughed, almost bitter with the threat of separation between you two.

“How is it not the end of it?”

“I...I’ve been talking with your mother about...us. About how I feel. She’s going to remove me from the guard altogether, and I was going to move into an advising role for you where I’d be able to ask you out. I was planning on telling you after we returned form the visit, since it was only finalized after we arrived, but then...”

It took a moment to register what he had said, but as soon as it had clicked you threw your arms around him with an almost childlike excitement.

“I’ll be here for you until you don’t want me anymore, okay? I promise. Me and you, just like it’s been since you were sixteen.”

The words were gentle, kind, and you couldn’t help but relax at the truthfulness he carried in his tone. You wanted to stay like this forever, but it was all too soon that there was a knock on the door as Taeyong informed you that your car was waiting out front and the princes had finally agreed to stand down and let you leave in peace. You took a moment to collect yourself before heading to the door, and Johnny gave your hand a reassuring squeeze before opening it.

“Would you like me to ride with you today, your highness?”

“Actually, if it’s okay, I’d rather have Johnny with me. I’ve been under a lot of stress during this trip, and I find him rather comforting to have around.”

He stifled a laugh behind his hand, and you couldn’t help but grin at the almost knowing glance Taeyong spared you. You walked past the princes in uncomfortable silence, only sparing a small bow before you stepped into your car, Johnny following and moving to sit next to you as the door closed.

“So, we’ve got six hours until we’re back in our kingdom, do you want to play Super Mario Land or something?”

You burst out laughing, head falling back against his shoulder as you gave him a small nod through the rhythm of your breathing. He smiled as he gave you the old lime Game Boy, shifting to move an arm around you so he could watch you play, and you couldn’t help but notice how this felt just like home.

[stillness-in-green]

MLAWeek Coda: The Lore Post

Sorry this is a few days late!  To the surprise of absolutely no one who has read some of my longer meta posts, I just don’t know how to shut the F up.  (Spoilers: this post is only a few hundred words away from being as long as everything else I wrote for the week put together.)  

Anyway, hit the jump for, in order:

A quick breakdown of the Liberation Army’s general structure.

A list of members, broken down by broad generation, including the ones we have gotten explicitly IDed in canon, the ones I based on figures we see in canon, and the ones I completely made up.

The basic tenets of the MLA and some discussion about their views on quirk supremacy. (feat. fandom salt)

An overview of the way the Advent shook up the political landscape in Japan and the Hearts & Minds Party’s place in that landscape.  Pretty much the same material Trumpet’s victory speech from Day 4 covers, but modestly more in-depth, removed from the need to play well to a crowd, and with some added explanation about the structure of the Diet for readers who are less familiar with it than Trumpet’s audience would be.

A timeline (with only moderately arbitrary dates!) covering the birth of the glowing baby up to the first year of the manga.  Mostly concerned with detailing the events the MLA would care about, but with a few other points of reference to contextualize things for the rest of us.

Bonus Fun Facts: discussion of the considerations that went into the timeline, a look at All For One’s actions re: the MLA, and some miscellaneous blurbs on terminology, worldbuilding and characterization.

A smattering of asides in the form of footnotes.

Note that while this material is based in and accurate to canon as much as I could remember at the time that I was doing my notes on my fills for the week, there’s a lot in here that is based entirely on supposition, interpretation and, at times, just plain-old guessing.  

Thanks to @codenamesazanka and @robotlesbianjavert for their assistance in naming, brainstorming, and just generally putting up with me while the Liberation Army was completely devouring my attention.

@red-the-omnic Somewhat belatedly, here’s that list of MLA members you asked for back during the middle of the week.  Sorry to make you wait so long! 

Enjoy!  

———–      ———–      ———–      ———–

ORGANIZATION

Grand Commander: Destro and Destro’s line of descendants.

The First Families: Those who fought at Destro’s side and escaped to continue the fight, and their descendants.  Veritably all high-ranked within the MLA, their tie to the original incarnation of the Army marks them as elites, whether or not their quirks would do so otherwise. The elders of the First Families do a certain amount of collective decision-making when and if the Grand Commander is unable to do so and has left orders otherwise.

Sanctum: “Sanctum” is a special position in the Army.  The name denotes the person who’s tasked with remembering the MLA’s history, practices and lore—the position is considered contiguous, so even when someone is new to the name, they’re still considered “the longest-serving member of the Liberation Army.”.  When they’re getting on in years, they select an appropriate protégé, to whom the name will pass upon their death/capture.  The name must always go to a member of the First Families (though in truth, they’re only on their third one, so it’s more of a pattern so far than a hard rule).

Commanders & Lieutenants: People in charge of major operations, liberated districts, etc. Frequently, though not always, members of the First Families.  Have discretion over their own assignments, but may not have much influence in the Army’s operations on the whole, depending on who they’re connected to otherwise.

Advisors: This title denotes those who are specifically tapped to give advice and aid to the MLA leadership.  Levels of authority vary depending on who they’re advising.  Advisors of lieutenants, if any, are a step above the rank and file, advisors of commanders are about on par with lieutenants, and advisors to the Grand Commander are considered commanders in their own right, regardless of any other rank they may hold.

Rank and File: Pretty much everyone else.

———–      

KNOWN MEMBERS [1]

The original MLA—

Destro: Yotsubashi Chikara.  Established the Meta Liberation Army in his mid-30s in response to the development of what he felt were overly restrictive laws on the usage of meta-abilities. Having observed evidence that meta-abilities grew stronger generationally, he was particularly concerned that no oppressive laws could be enforced by the generation that established them because the next generation would always be more powerful.  Thus, he believed that establishing the use of meta-abilities as a fundamental right was the only way for society to avoid indefinite intergenerational strife.  He was particularly incensed by the government co-opting the message that got his mother murdered to put a pretty, self-congratulatory sheen on laws that did the exact opposite of what she wished for.  Allegedly committed suicide after some months in prison.  The MLA is highly suspicious of this claim—they’re correct to be, but not for the reasons they think.              His quirk, which his entire line would inherit, turns a key emotion into enhanced strength and resilience in the form of a characteristic ink-blot marking.  While it would develop over time, the basic nature of the quirk remained the same. Chikara’s driving emotion was resolve.

Fathom: Destro’s lover, she dedicated a decade of her life after his capture to building up the survivors he’d left behind.  It’s said her son got his drive from Destro, but his anger from Fathom.  Had a large hand in raising her son to be the sort of man he was, particularly in her decision to commit what many considered to be suicide-by-hero when he was in his teens.  A large part of that choice was wrapped up in her never-fully-assuaged grief over Destro’s loss (and, she believed to the end, his murder), but there was also a cold calculation to it—her making a big show of it would lead the police to believe that her attack was the last gasp of the Liberation Army, ending their investigations into MLA activities.  It would also stoke the fires of her son’s rage, honing him into a stronger weapon against their enemies.  Her judgement in both cases proved broadly on-point, though her death did serve to make her son more cautious than she might have hoped.              Meta-Ability: Antennae.  A pair of insectile feelers emerging from her forehead that give her a passel of sensory boosts, particularly in the taste and smell categories, and which also make her able to detect shifts in the air from quite some distance.)

Cascade: A man whose meta-ability lets him turn body parts into loosely controllable masses of water.  Can’t transform fully.  A quick-thinking type able to make hard calls.

Sweeper: A woman with a radio-scanning quirk.  Caught by police in the same fight as Destro.

Sanctum I: The first bearer of the codename.  Had a protective ability of some sort.

Sanctum II’s father: The same quirk as his daughter; see below.  Known for getting some eight people safely out of a police raid by carrying them all out at once despite not actually having superhuman strength of any kind.  (Probably tore several muscles in the process, but adrenaline is a hell of a thing.)

The Second Generation—

Destro’s son: Raised to deeply resent heroes and the government that put them in place, but he was also very cautious of them.  He was profoundly aware that his death would mean the end of the dream that his father had begun and his mother had cultivated, so he was very meticulous in spreading the MLA’s influence underground, rebuilding their numbers before he even began to consider starting to make attacks again.  Destro’s army had been a guerilla force; his son’s would be something much more dangerous.  His driving emotion was anger, and he had two children before being killed by a cerebral aneurysm at 43.  Was able to use his power to make his body larger.

Sanctum II: A woman with an unusual fondness for the traditional Japanese arts, particularly tea ceremony.  Meta-ability: Stride.  Teleport to any location she can directly see by taking a single step forward.   Can take whoever she can carry under her own power. (First Families lineage)

Anchor: An advisor to Destro’s son.  Prominent bull horns.  Meta-ability: Immobilize.  Similar to Lock Rock’s Lockdown quirk, except it only works on his own body.  Very good at wrestling holds (and holding his breath), he tends to fight with backup that can deliver finishing blows to opponents once he has them pinned down.  (First Families lineage)

The Third Generation—

Yotsubashi Kyouyuki: The elder child of Destro’s son.  Deemed an unsuitable Grand Commander for his driving emotion of joy.  Always presented a façade of being cheerful and upbeat, but the ever-present rhetoric that the MLA pushes about the ongoing suppression of quirks and the misery and injustice it leads to left Kyou always struggling with guilt.  In college, it finally got so bad that he resolved to run away, enlisting the help of a friend with a swap-based teleport quirk to get him out of a party undetected. His fate thereafter is a secret that’s been taken to the grave by the MLA members involved in it, but given the typical reactions of illegal underground cults to members wanting to leave, it’s unlikely that he’s living somewhere in happy anonymity.  (Name means Unyielding Happiness, following in his grandfather and nephew's patterns of having characters in their names meaning power/strength.)

Yotsubashi Yukie: The younger child of Destro’s son, and Rikiya’s mother.  With a driving emotion of sorrow, and having been steadily losing family her entire life, Yukie wrestled with depression for most of her life. The presumptive heir to the title of Re-Destro, she spent considerably more time in training than her older brother, but she never much had the temperament for it.  When her father died only a few scant years after Kyouyuki’s disappearance, she expressed her fears that she was incapable of being the leader the Army needed.  This led to her becoming a mother at a relatively young age, continuing the bloodline rather than picking up the banner.  For all her struggles with her grief, Yukie was very determined to at least be there for the son on whom the weight of leadership would fall.  The world of My Hero Academia is a dangerous one, however, particularly before All Might established himself as Japan’s pillar, and Yukie was a casualty of the chaos of a villain attack when Rikiya was ten.  (Name means Glittering Conqueror, ditto the note above about the family pattern for name kanji.)

Rampart: Guardian and general caretaker for Rikiya in his younger years.  Hand-picked for the role by Yukie, who had considered him a close friend since their school days.  Meta-Ability: An earth manipulation power akin to Pixie-Bob’s, though less powerful.  (First Families lineage)

Shinseigi: Trumpet’s uncle, unspecified code name.  Also in politics, though of a more local variety.  Meta-ability: His speaking voice makes listeners suggestible.  (The phonetic pronunciation of his name sounds like “New Justice,” but the kanji are “Sleeping Voice Technique.”)

The Fourth Generation—

Yotsubashi Rikiya: The current Re-Destro (42); CEO and President of Detnerat.  He took up the former title when he was only 6 years old. With the succession of losses that were his uncle, grandfather and mother, the MLA has been fairly careful with him, grooming him with care and rarely leaving him without some form of supervision, be it Rampart when he was young or Trumpet in college.  An extremely dutiful child grown into an urbane man whose good humor disguises a morose—and occasionally volatile—inner character.  Always under a lot of stress (his MRIs are clear so far, though, haha!), but there’s only so much effort dedicated to mitigating that, since stress is his key emotion.  The first in the family line to be able to separate his power from his own body, in the form of his Stress Bomb attack.

Trumpet: Hanabata Koku (44).  One of Rikiya’s advisors and party leader of the Hearts & Minds Party (see below); has known Rikiya since their preteen years.  The Hanabatas were a political family of old, but largely saw those fortunes crash and burn when they started manifesting quirks a few generations into the Advent.  They’ve been clawing their way back into politics ever since and were an early target for the MLA’s project to infiltrate and/or start their own political party.  It was decided very early on that Koku’s quirk and his family connections made him a good choice to groom for leadership of the HMP, so he and Rikiya bonded over their similar positions.  They would go on to attend the same university, during which time they became romantically involved.  In truth, Koku’s university was functionally chosen for him on the basis of which one Rikiya would be attending; the First Families were not about to lose another Yotsubashi to college life.  Koku is more aware of this particular fact than Rikiya.  Still a little wistful about their college days, his opinions regarding Re-Destro’s big starstruck crush on Shigaraki are borderline unprintable.

Sanctum III: Twice’s No. 1 advisor, the dude with the big imperial handlebar moustache and what looks an awful lot like a dress uniform for the Japanese navy.  A few years older than Trumpet.  (First Families lineage)

Curious: Kizuki Chitose (36).  RD advisor and Shoowaysha Publishing Executive Vice President.[2]  From a relatively small liberated district up near Sendai; the MLA connections plus her own profound ambition got her moving very quickly up the MLA chain of command. Daughter of a wlw couple; got her blue skin from her bio mom.  One younger sibling, a sister.  Masterminded the dinners we see the group having in Chapter 218, originally to make sure Rikiya was getting at least one well-apportioned meal a week and a chance to socialize with the closest thing he has to peers, but also because it proved to be an invaluable opportunity to swap information and rumors.

Skeptic: Chikazoku Tomoyasu (31).  RD advisor and Feel Good Inc. board member.  On the bottom end of the generation age-wise, a prodigy in every sense save his broadly terrible people skills.  Recognizes Rikiya’s stress tells because he shares several of them himself, and is also the only person of Rikiya’s generation with the confidence to verbally push him around a bit.  It’s regarded as borderline scandalous by their elders, but Rikiya himself finds it bracing, and anyway, Skeptic’s ability to organize a schedule for maximum efficiency is nothing less than miraculous.  Got Rikiya onto fidget toys.

Toryu:  Toryu is the family name of Galvanize (aka Taser Face aka Kaminari’s Dad).  Mr. Compress’s No. 1, the dude who strolls out onto the lawn after Cementoss rips the hotel a new one and immediately gets his smarm repackaged and returned to sender by Kaminari and Edgeshot.  Great for morale before that, though!  In Rikiya’s age group, his mother’s side of the family (from which he gets the electricity powers) has been in the Army for at least as far back as her school days. (The name comes from the characters for leaping/rising and current/flow.)

Slidin’ Go: Tokoname Tatsuyuki (37).  He’s Slidin’ Go!  Skeptic’s No. 2, possibly because Slidin’ Go strongly resembles the puppets Skeptic is so used to barking orders at and there’s comfort in familiarity.

Aozono: Family name for another of Rikiya’s childhood peers, nothing is known but that green skin runs in the family as far back as her father.  May or may not be related to Curious’s family.

The Fifth Generation—

Geten: Real name unknown.  Family status unknown.  Age unknown, but I’d peg him in the 18-23 area.  Seems to be allowed to attend the weekly dinners without contributing anything but his incredibly terrible table manners.  Can talk an impassioned game about the Liberation Army’s goals (though he pushes the quirk supremacy line a good deal harder than anyone else in the Army is shown to; it’s not even close), but it’s fairly clear that he’s more personally dedicated to Re-Destro than he is the MLA’s cause in and of itself.  I’ll be honest; I have no idea what Geten’s deal is. My tentative headcanon is that he’s an orphan—the English meaning of his name, Apocrypha, refers to sacred writings of uncertain authorship/authenticity—who’s in some kind of Batman-and-Robin guardian-and-ward situation with Re-Destro, but I didn’t wind up writing enough about him to come up with much beyond that.

Nimble: Spinner’s No. 1, the woman with the weird paper-strip-esque hair who doesn’t seem to be in possession of a nose or mouth.  (She absorbs air through her skin like a frog, which is why no one has ever seen her with that sweater covering both of her shoulders.)  Nimble is a friendly sort, though she regards her outgoing good cheer as being a simple matter of social networking.  Ambitious, but sensible about it.                Meta-ability: Sky Write.  Allows her to project letters and pictures into the air around her, giving her a way to communicate she would have otherwise lacked.  She can create words in air she can’t see, but it takes some concentration, and the closer the better.

Scarecrow: Spinner’s No. 2, 21 years old.  Born with amelia (see link in Day Two’s author’s notes) that disfigured his face and severed his arms in the womb.  His quirk-based forelegs—a pair of spider legs emerging from his shoulders—can do a certain amount of basic object manipulation, but it tends to wig people out, so they push him to use his prosthetics like he’s “supposed” to (see Stray Notes section for more on this).  He was viciously angry about it even as a kid, and his parents were frustrated, making them easy pickings for cult indoctrination.  A family friend recommended that they look into Detnerat, where it wasn’t long before Re-Destro himself took an interest in their situation (or at least in making a good impression on them).  Scarecrow joined the Army as quickly as he was allowed to—16.              Meta-ability: Webbing.  The bug legs can project silk like a webspinner (the insect on which he’s based), allowing him to do anything you might broadly understand Spider-Man to be able to do with his webbing, though he certainly lacks Spider-Man’s strength.

Red: Named in passing in the manga, he’s the laid-back dude with the fluffy hair who serves as Skeptic’s No. 1 post-merger.  Probably invaluable in helping Skeptic maintain what bare vestiges of chill he can muster.  (First Families lineage)

The Sixth Generation—

Every child currently under the age of 10 being raised in MLA households with a picture of Destro over the mantle.  It’s not a small number, representing a group that neither the fandom nor the Hero Commission seem to have even realized exist.

———–      

CORE TENETS & THE MATTER OF QUIRK SUPREMACY

Re-Destro is not (contrary to popular fandom belief) in favor of full-throated, might-makes-right, survival of the fittest Quirk Darwinism.[3]  Destro’s will was for people to be able to use their meta-abilities as they saw fit to the extent that that freedom did not interfere with the freedoms of others. He was against the regulation of meta-abilities, but he was not—to the best of our knowledge—against the regulation of crime.  His belief was that one murderer with a fire ability killing people did not justify barring everyone else with fire abilities from using those powers to fire clay, start campfires, engage in fire-themed performance art, use fire to char wood in artistic patterns for money, help park rangers set and direct controlled burns, coordinate explosions for the movie industry, light cigarettes in public, or any other of dozens of possible uses for a fire ability that don’t involve burning people alive.

The MLA do believe that meta-abilities have an impact on one’s personality, but they also believe that that’s okay; that it should be understood and accepted, not feared and repressed—Curious would not have wanted to turn Toga into a tragedy about the consequences of repression if she didn’t think that a spree of bloodletting murders was a tragedy.  Their belief as an organization is that people should be free to use their powers as they see fit in the same way that they would any other natural talent or cultivated skill.  They believe that people will, if free to do so, naturally gravitate to ways of improving their own lot in life via use of their meta-abilities.

Freedom from regulation and freedom from discrimination—these are the core tenets that the vast majority of the rank and file hold to.  A great many of them are laborers, blue collar types who just want to be able to better support themselves and their families.  Many others are those who suffered discrimination because of their quirks and want better for both themselves and their children.  Of course, the further back their connections go, the more likely they are to both be higher-ranked in the cult (with attendant greater resources) and to have grown up soaking in generations’ worth of resentment, groupthink, and radicalism.

Geten, a particularly virulent and single-minded MLA attack dog, has parsed the tenets to mean that people with strong, well-trained meta-abilities will naturally be able to use their powers to do more and raise their status in the MLA’s ideal society, and thus that those who can’t or don’t choose to will not be able to live lives that Geten personally thinks are worth living.  Likewise, Trumpet doesn’t fault Spinner only for his weak ability, but also for his anti-social tendencies.  Of course a politician who’s deeply invested in a narrative of people uniting to throw off their chains and better themselves would be disdainful of someone who locked himself in his bedroom for years and emerged only to violently lash out at society.  (Spinner’s right to call Trumpet a huge hypocrite on this, mind; terrorist cult members have no business lecturing other terrorists about the correct way to violently reform society.)

The MLA does have a problem with quirk supremacy, but it’s not quite the problem fandom thinks they do, and it’s certainly more nuanced than fandom thinks.[4]  Frankly, I could write a whole post dissecting this, but rather than analyzing the canon at length in a post intending to be about my fanon for a series of slice-of-life MLA fics, let me just lay out some issues I think the MLA have.  Note that these opinions may vary member to member, particularly as you work your way up the chain of command.

Many in the MLA believe that people with poor quirks are less capable of asserting their will and becoming whatever they want to be.  They are not, notably, alone in that that sentiment—we hear versions of it not only from villains like Trumpet and All for One, but from the paralleled parents of Midoriya Inko and Shimura Kotarou, the would-be hero Bakugou, and even the iconic hero paragon All Might.  While it’s not universal, My Hero Academia’s Japan is full of people who believe to some extent or another that people with weak or no quirks are inherently less capable of making their mark on the world.  The MLA is just more blatant about it than most.

The MLA are, as a group, not concerned about the fate of the quirkless.  My suspicion is that this is because they think quirklessness as a trait is on its way out—that the touted 20% of the world population that’s quirkless is hugely weighted towards the elderly, those who are from generations when quirklessness was more common.  Think about it: 20% is two out of every ten people.  Statistically speaking, that’s a huge portion!  You only have to look at Deku’s middle school classroom in Chapter 1—thirty kids, exactly one of whom is quirkless—to begin to suspect that there’s something a bit off with the 20% figure.

Further, the MLA follows Destro’s beliefs, and we know from Destro’s manifesto that he believed meta-abilities were growing stronger over time.  So to their mind, not only is quirklessness becoming a thing of the past, but so are weak quirks in general.  While their clear disdain for both is damning—and certainly discredits them as a group suited to decide how society should be structured!—please understand that, “We’re not very concerned with the rights of the quirkless because we think that there won’t be any such thing as quirkless people within a few more generations,” is not the same statement as, “We are A-OK with 20% of the world’s population being second-class citizens for the entire rest of human history,” and it is really not the same statement as, “People with no quirks, or bodies that can’t handle their quirks, need to be proactively removed from the gene pool and we are actively advocating for a systemic, organized culling.”

That said, their disdain, if blown out to society at large, would absolutely lead to discrimination and, undoubtedly, incidents of the same sort of violence that the MLA themselves were forged from.  That they haven’t thought or don’t care about this is one of many things that make them villains.

Further, there is an ugly strain within the MLA that still recognizes quirk marriages.  Because the MLA values freedom, they’re not as ubiquitous as you might think (at least if you think the MLA is a bunch of quirk supremacists with no other goals or values)—“freedom” does nominally include the freedom to marry who you want rather than let your own meta-ability trap you in a life you hate. However, it’s equally true that in a group that believes very strongly in the value of quirks, the power of quirks in the future, and the necessity of fighting a war to bring about that future, there will obviously be members who support the practice.  There are absolutely men and women who have been bullied and guilted by their families into loveless marriages for the sole purpose of producing children with powerful, desirable quirks.  How likely this is in any given location mostly depends on the commander’s opinion on it, though it’s a very rare one indeed who would go so far as discouraging it entirely.

———–      

THE HEARTS & MINDS PARTY

(Considerations on Japan’s political landscape.)

The current monolith of the Diet, the Liberal Democratic Party of Japan, managed to hold onto power for a full century after the Advent, but their grasp grew shakier and shakier over time.  Initial measures to bar meta-humans from voting proved increasingly unpopular as the percentage of the population with meta-abilities grew both larger and older.  People with easily-concealed powers gained office, sometimes being outed, sometimes not, but on the whole, decades of oppression and violence led to an ever-more-popular opinion that the LDP had mishandled the whole mess.  They lost their supermajority in the Diet when their longstanding alliance with the Komeito party splintered, regained it again for a few electoral cycles, lost it again when Komeito itself fractured, and so on, their once implacable numbers shrinking year by year.  Still, they managed to hold onto a coalition majority right up until Saneki Yuuichi was elected to the House of Representatives.

Saneki headed up a small party based almost entirely on the issue of meta-human basic rights.  Like many meta-humans of the period, he believed that the best way for meta-humans to attain those rights was to live like so-called “normal humans,” to show that meta-humans were just like everyone else. His party advanced the ideology that meta-humans should only use their powers to help others or better society, not to advance their own self-interest.  They pushed stringently for metas to be allowed equal recognition under the law as any Japanese citizen, but also supported measures such as requiring licenses for the use of meta-abilities and limiting those licenses to those actively engaged in assisting police.  Deeply tied to respectability politics, Saneki’s party contained virtually all emitters, a scant number of transformers, and no heteromorphs, who the party felt were an impediment to reaching their legislative goals, but whose particular needs could be brought back up at a later, more receptive time.

Saneki’s politics gained him many supporters, but also drove many into the arms of the Meta Liberation Army, who vocally loathed him and everything he stood for.  The confluence of public dissatisfaction with the spike in violence represented by the MLA, Saneki’s coalition gathering popular support among both metas and non-metas, and the rise of named, organized hate groups trying to roll back what few advances had been gained in meta-human rights finally spelled the end of the LDP’s majority.

The LDP falling apart prompted a scramble for power that would stretch on for nearly half a century. Old alliances whose only common ground had been opposing the LDP found themselves free to seek groups with more compatible goals.  Young single- or dual-issue parties leapt at the chance to address their issues with more fervor.  New parties sprung up across the country.  Not only meta-humans, but minority groups of all kinds saw new avenues to press for substantive positive changes that had been dead in the water under the LDP.  Voting numbers surged as they had not for decades.

The old, conservative elements of the Diet were not gone, of course—they remained a substantial powerhouse!—but no longer could they muster the undefeatable veto-proof numbers that they had once enjoyed.

Like everyone else, the remnants of the MLA saw opportunity in the new, ever-shifting status quo.  With the place of metas secured for the time being, there was no longer a need for metas to form coalitions in the Diet merely to get their basic needs addressed.  A single-issue party from its inception thirty years prior, Saneki Yuuichi’s party was fragmenting, unable to decide on a single direction now that their uniting issue had been resolved to their satisfaction.  In recognition of meta-humans reaching population parity, the MLA launched a project to begin seeding the ideals of Liberation at the highest levels yet—the Hearts & Minds Party.

Beginning as a local party in a prefecture in which the MLA had gained significant underground support, the HMP campaigned on a platform championing individual freedoms and a wide range of improvements to Japan’s battered and overworked social safety nets.  They made an effort to showcase diverse representation in their leadership and gave impassioned speeches promising to reach across party aisles in searching for nuanced solutions to the various difficulties facing the country.

It’s impossible to say exactly how large the Hearts & Minds Party is compared to the Meta Liberation Army, which is claimed by Re-Destro to have 116,000 action-ready warriors (the “warriors lying in wait, ready to rise to action” description presumably indicating that his count does not include uninducted children).

On the one hand, one can presume that everyone who’s a member of the MLA is voting for the HMP on every ticket they can, but not every member of the MLA—who induct combat-ready warriors as young as 16—is old enough to vote, and many probably live in districts or prefectures where the HMP has yet to establish a campaign-ready foothold. On the other hand, while the HMP certainly serves to funnel people towards the MLA, it doesn’t require membership—indeed, it’s far better for their goals for them not to do so.  Therefore, it’s also probable that the Hearts & Minds Party has many supporters who are not (yet) counted among the Liberation Army’s number.  Thus, for the purposes of ballparking estimates, I opted to simply suppose that the two areas lacking overlap (MLA members who can’t vote for the HMP and HMP supporters who aren’t members of the MLA) are relatively equal.

That established, we’re working with a party that has 116K voters/supporters/members.  The closest thing to that number that I could find numbers for is the Japanese Communist Party (JCP), which counted 300K members as of 2017.  Using their total membership compared to their representation in the Diet (as well as a willingness to viciously bastardize anything resembling reliable political math), I plugged in my estimate for the HMP’s membership and wound up with the Hearts & Minds Party holding four seats in the House of Representatives, five seats in the House of Councillors, and sixty-odd assembly members in various prefectural positions.

For some context to those numbers, the House of Representatives (more powerful, but more vulnerable to sudden electoral shifts) has 465 members, 233 of which are required for a majority, and 310 of which are required to override vetoes imposed by the House of Counsillors. The House of Counsillors (less powerful, but serving longer terms and unable to be dissolved for general elections like the House of Representatives can be) has 245 members, with 123 required for a majority.

As you can see, the HMP holding a handful of seats isn’t going to tilt the My Hero Academia world on its axis.  Still, it’s more seats than any number of real-life Japanese political parties hold, and right up until the one-two punch of Shigaraki taking over the MLA and Hawks outing Trumpet’s allegiances to the Hero Commission, the Hearts & Minds Party was well on-track to continue growing its power and influence.

———–      

TIMELINE

(For ease of calculation, most dates are rounded to the nearest five years.)

1980: A glowing baby is born in Qing Qing City, China, heralding the Advent of the Age of the Extraordinary.  For almost two decades, meta-abilities remain rare and poorly understood—incidents are widespread and show huge variance, so most people write them off as anomalies or hoaxes.  As the years go on, however, meta-abilities become more widespread, moving out of the realm of the odd headline that many people think is an elaborate hoax into an alarmed spotlight as it gradually becomes apparent that this is a thing that all humanity is undergoing.  Most major technological development pivots to trying to understand, undo, document or control this new phenomenon.

2030: The child who will become All for One is born.  By this time, society is breaking down into chaos. Across the globe, measures from outlawing all meta-ability use to internment are seen.  Eugenics laws are discussed or put in place.  Communities attempt to run out metas and, in response, groups of metas attempt to form their own communities.  Infanticide rates are rising alarmingly.

2060: Yotsubashi Chikara and Ujiko (original name unknown) are born.  Japan is in complete disarray, awash in mob violence, with organized groups of both metas and non-metas attacking victims indiscriminately.  Developing an ability can get you disowned.  Divisions among the meta minority are developing a noticeable strain of respectability politics rhetoric.

2065: AFO forces an ability on his younger brother, unintentionally creating One for All.  Chikara’s mother is murdered by an anti-meta mob for attempting to speak out in defense of the normalcy of her child’s ability.

2085-2090: Saneki Yuuichi becomes the first meta-human to attain a seat in the Diet. Despite nearly a century of violence, meta-humans are becoming a larger and larger percentage of the population, and the people of Japan are tired.  The prevailing sense is that it’s time to make peace; however, the peace that is being forged involves laws sharply restricting the use of meta-abilities for those who haven’t been formally licensed.  These restrictions see markedly mixed reactions from metas.  Chikara rallies the most vehement dissenters to create the Meta Liberation Army, calling himself Destro.              Disagreement over how to handle the MLA finally finishing the job of rattling the Diet free of the death-grip of the LDP.  Many years of fractious elections will follow as new coalitions form to try and seize majority power.

2095: Japan signs an international accord acknowledging the fundamental rights of meta-humans.  This gesture begins to splinter both internal support and public sympathy for the MLA.

2097: Destro is captured by police and their newly designated Quirk Unit.  Other surviving members of the MLA are hunted down or go into hiding.

2100: The term “Hero” is formally adopted, having been casually in use for some time.  A Hero is one who is licensed to use their power to fight quirk-based crime in accordance with local and federal laws, assisting the police when requested.  The Hero Commission is established as an agency with oversight in the licensing and regulation of Heros.              Destro dies in prison.  Though the matter is questioned, no proof of foul play is ever brought forward, and the death is ruled a suicide.

2110: Ujiko presents his paper on the Paranormal [5] Singularity Theory.  The paper suggests that the power of quirks is continuing to grow with each generation and will, in time, become more powerful than the human body can control.  His evidence is inconclusive, however, and his citation of some of Destro’s observations on the phenomenon becomes a particular sticking point.  In a country that is finally beginning to get its feet back under it, no one wants to see another widespread panic.  Ujiko is stripped of his position; having been living on campus at the time, he’s left functionally homeless and is approached by All for One not long after.

2120: The population of those with quirks and those without reaches parity in Japan. Seeing an opportunity, the MLA launches the Hearts & Minds Party as a local political party, intending to grow it over time.

(2125: Yagi Toshinori is born.)

2138: Yotsubashi Rikiya is born.

(2148: Debut of All Might.)

(2165: Shimura family tragedy.)

(2174: All Might “defeats” AFO.)

2175: Hanabata Koku is elected to the House of Representatives.  He’s not the youngest party leader in the Diet, but he’s close.

2180: The events of Deku’s freshman year at UA lead the MLA to turn their attention to the League of Villains.

———–      

STRAY FACTS

Why 1980/2180?—

It’s an even number for ease of calculation, triangulated between a few considerations.

Firstly, tasers are mentioned in the One for All dream, so the events of the dream (which themselves are happening far enough into the Advent that society’s had time to slide into all-out chaos) must post-date the invention of the taser, which was in 1993.

Secondly, Spider-Man’s silhouette is seen amongst the group of characters who represent the “fantasy” that became reality.  If we assume that those media properties existed in-universe (since the narration is delivered by Midoriya) and were assumed to be fantastical at the time, they must predate the Advent—Spider-Man is the newest of them and his first appearance was in 1962, his material being translated into Japanese by the 1970s.

Lastly, technological and societal development crashed to a halt with the Advent.  The world of My Hero Academia generally reflects a modern-ish Japan, so I wanted modern technology—and modern social reforms—to still feel modern to the characters.  Thus, the point at which society stopped developing needed to predate the Digital Revolution, which really began to hit its stride in the mid-80s.  Hence, 1980.

The opening period is, admittedly, fairly generous on my part, and does assume a certain amount of modern advances were probably underway, but then were lost, sidelined or rolled back as the chaos spread.  You could probably trim off twenty years by stepping up how quickly quirks begin to appear and spread, but the very beginning is the best window to do so.  I’d still peg the Advent at 1980 based on the calculations above (again, it has to fall somewhere between the mid-70s and 1993) but, for example, maybe All for One is from that first generation, and society only takes 30 years to reach the lowest point of its collapse instead of 80.

As to the 2180, the older characters introduce several requirements for the post-Advent timeline.  Ujiko was 50 at the time that society was beginning to stabilize, while AFO dates to its days of utmost chaos.  AFO also needs to be running on at least one anti-aging quirk prior to meeting Ujiko; if the only one he were running on was Ujiko’s own, then based on his appearance and the mechanics of Ujiko’s quirk, I’d peg AFO at merely 85, and he needs to be not only over 100, but far enough over 100 that he’s described that way rather than as “a century-old evil” or something to that effect.

Meanwhile, All Might can’t really be any younger than 50, and seven generations of OFA bearer predated him, even if they did all die relatively young.  Destro’s mother was killed in those early chaotic days, while Re-Destro (himself no spring chicken) is told as a child that the MLA has been in hiding for generations.  “Generations” implies at least two; I further suppose that Rikiya needs to be at least the original Chikara’s great-grandson for him to describe himself simply as Destro’s descendant, rather than use a more specific relationship term.  All of this points to a fairly lengthy stretch of time, much more than is glossed over by Midoriya’s series-opening narration.

AFO and the MLA—

I mention in the very first story of this series that the MLA’s contacts all go “mysteriously missing” after the capture of Destro.  While the police certainly did their own measure of work in tracking down the Liberation Army’s members and allies, there was another figure with a significant hand in the MLA’s downfall.

All for One, then in his early sixties, had watched the rise of the MLA in some interest.  On a personal level, he admired Yotsubashi’s charisma and resolve, and, of course, he wholly supported the free use of quirks (well, his own free use of quirks, anyway)!  On the other hand, All for One also sought to restore order to society, albeit order as he himself envisioned it.  While he was confident that there was no one who could stand up to him no matter whose ideals won out, Saneki Yuuichi’s way promised a more stable society, and bribable and/or blackmailable bureaucrats seemed easier to manipulate than ideal-driven zealots ready to give their lives for the cause.  Thus, AFO decided to help the police a bit behind the scenes, offering a few tip-offs and hints to guide their efforts to end the threat of the Liberation Army.

Of course, as long as Destro was alive, the cause of Liberation still had its focal point. And AFO was still a bit curious to meet this man, who’d inspired so very many loyal followers.  It was an easy thing to arrange.  An interesting man, and an interesting quirk.

Destro did commit suicide in prison.  A man who had always embraced his meta-ability for motivation, and whose ability transformed that motivation into power in turn, AFO stripped him of in the same moment. Isolation from other contact, separation from his lover, his friends and allies, and his cause, a gap in his psyche like no pain he’d ever experienced--all of these piled up on one another into a fatal despair.  After AFO’s visit, there was no need for anyone to arrange a convenient death for Destro.

(And if in later years, the monstrous Noumu, who are driven entirely by pre-programmed, single-minded resolve, are flint-skinned from head-to-toe, well—who would ever even think to connect those dots?)

The Mother of Quirks—

An interesting thing I observed from Re-Destro’s confrontation with Clone!Shigaraki is that, based on their exchange, it doesn’t seem to be common knowledge that the Mother of Quirks is the mother of the Meta Liberation Army’s leader?  Re-Destro’s apology for assuming Shigaraki wouldn’t recognize the story suggests that it’s a matter of fairly basic historical education, but he then goes on to explain her connection to Destro at some length—if that connection were taught at the same time her story was, surely he’d see no need to do this? Clone-a-raki’s response backs this up—unlike the general existence of the Mother of Quirks, which was such basic knowledge that he was insulted that Re-Destro thought he wouldn’t know about it, her connection to Destro was unknown to him.

Re-Destro describes the connection as “an inconvenient truth.���  This, in turn, suggests that the connection has been actively obscured.  The MLA’s place in history is taught; the originator of the term “quirk” is taught, but the two are not connected to each other. Kids in school aren’t taught that the very child whose mother was murdered for her words hated what his country was using those words, that message, to do.  It’s naked appropriation that continues to this day, and it’s no wonder that the MLA is furious about it.

The Quirk Unit—

An early term for the group that would, in relatively short order after their formation, officially be dubbed Heroes.  Composed of both meta-humans already on the police force and vigilantes willing to remit themselves to legal oversight, they fought quirk-based crime in many forms, from the common mugger to the terrorists of the MLA, and even former allies in vigilantism.  Well-regarded by history thanks to their efforts in reining in crime and disorder, but quite a controversial group in their early years.

MLA Age of Induction—

Being raised in the MLA means being raised with the goal of eventually being assigned a codename and tasked with supporting the Great Cause in whatever fashion your superiors think you best suited.  The minimum age for this is 16, though 18, being the age at which students graduate from high school, is more common.  At no point is there really a safe way to leave once you’re involved; they are, after all, a secret army.  There’s no aging out of the MLA—it’s a lifetime tour—but disability, injury or general decrepitude can get you assigned to work that generally won’t expect you to see open combat.  The Army is composed of a great many lifetime-of-service families, after all, which means they need teachers and caretakers; another option is dedicated work for the Hearts & Minds Party, who always have room for community organizers.

Liberated Districts—

Settlements that are at least 85% MLA-inducted.  At their largest, they’re small towns; rural villages are far more common.  Without exception, they’re isolated or out of the way.  Tend to have unusually good access to city services compared to similarly-sized settlements.  Deika was one of the largest districts the Army had, chosen for the Revival Celebration due to its combination of a sizable population and a particularly closed-off location.  The MLA knew they’d need many warriors to fight the League of Villains, but they also needed a site that was not merely remote, but that had controllable points of access.

It can take well over a decade to hit the 85% saturation mark in even small villages; Deika and the MLA’s handful of other full-fledged towns are the work of generations.  They begin by moving people into an area and setting up gatherings on some useful pretext or another, enthusiastically welcoming newcomers and very, very gradually indoctrinating people further into the ideology.  Financial support, an accepting environment for difficult quirks or those with patchy legal histories, the odd homeless shelter or food kitchen, a robust presence in the foster care network—the MLA is very, very good at making themselves a warm, sincere, reliable presence in peoples’ lives, a group that encourages everyone under their banner to be their best selves. They think everyone deserves that kind of support!

They are also willing to shed quite a lot of blood to make sure that everyone can get it.

On the Intersection of Disability and Quirk Suppression—

There are a few factors contributing to why Scarecrow can’t use his quirk to do things others would.  First, his quirk is the kind of off-putting that gets Gang Orca ranked third-most villainous-looking hero and leads Shoji to wear a mask because his face disturbs people.  So Scarecrow’s quirk is already the kind of visible that makes people look at him askance.  Compounding this, his prosthetics are obvious, visible to any old person, and people have a very ugly tendency towards bootstrap, “you can do it if you try” mentalities around people with disabilities.  These two factors mean that people who are disturbed by his creepy articulate bug legs would much prefer that he use his significantly less-creepy prosthetics, to the degree that they’re willing to suggest that he’s being lazy if he doesn’t.  They cite the quirk-use laws as a deflection tactic, but Scarecrow—whose pattern recognition functions just fine, thanks—is keenly aware of the underlying mindset.

Nimble is in much the same boat—she literally can’t talk without falling back on a visual representation of some kind (sign-language, a text-to-speech reader, etc), and why on earth shouldn’t she be able to use the fastest and most convenient one without people getting up her ass about it?

None of this is the kind of thing that would likely get either of them arrested (though Scarecrow’s creepy enough that the odds are higher for him, “villain quirk” bias being what it is), but the laws-as-written, nonetheless, are discriminatory, and that makes people justly angry.  Angry people are easier to radicalize, and the Liberation Army has been working that angle since their very inception.

Re-Destro and Trumpet’s College Days—

RD’s an Engineering major with a focus in Manufacturing; Trumpet’s in PoliSci.  They’re two grades apart, with Koku being the older.  Those two years of greater experience shift the power balance between them significantly when Rikiya arrives for his freshman year, facing a new place, a new workload, an entirely new rhythm to his life.  For the first time, Koku is not merely a friend in similar circumstances who is still—as they’re both reminded near-constantly—subordinate to Rikiya’s every word.  Rather, he’s a senpai, someone with specific experience in every aspect of this new stage of life—and someone who’s had two years to become more eloquent, more well-studied, more confident, more mature.

Removed from the immediate supervision of the First Families for the first time in his life, Rikiya allows himself to lean on Koku in ways he never would have back home. Koku, for his part, has had his responsibilities here impressed on him by the First Families at some length, and has spent his entire life being groomed to devote himself to his Grand Commander.  Having said Grand Commander looking to him with such glowing esteem in his eyes—well, there’s no denying that it’s pretty enticing.  The two of them enter a romantic relationship that will endure for several years until Rikiya gets his head back around the idea that Koku’s ability to say no to him is fundamentally compromised.

The Bindi Connection—

I had no reason to develop them any, and thus I don’t have names to assign, but it seems that Twice’s No. 3, the smiling old woman with the gingham dress and the rough-and-ready attitude to combat, and Geten’s No. 2, the short-haired woman whose face is being devoured by her out-of-control sweater neck, are related.  Note the bindi on both of them, as well as the similar hair color, particularly in the page introducing all the advisors.  Mutual connection to Dabi’s No. 3, the guy who got into a fight with a hole punch and lost, is uncertain but possible based on the confronting-the-heroes page spread in which Hole Punch dude’s hand lays familiarly on Grandma Bindi’s back while Big Sis Bindi turns partly towards him as if to whisper some sarcastic observation about how lame Cementoss’s ponytail is.

———–      

FOOTNOTES

1: Regarding codenames, the first generation of the MLA tended to have names that reflected their meta-ability in some way.  From the second generation on, at the behest of Destro’s son, the codenames have become less literal, and thus less revealing.

2: Viz renders the job tile “Executive Director,” but having checked the raw, the Japanese term, senmu, is associated with a fairly specific level of executive authority, and it’s lower than I would peg “Executive Director,” which to my ear sounds synonymous or slightly below Chief Executive Officer.  Executive Vice President is wikipedia’s translation; Google returns Senior Managing Director.  In any case, she’s near the top, but not at the top.

3: At least, he wasn’t prior to meeting Shigaraki.  Now he’s pretty much in favor of a very organized and coherent belief structure that can be summarized as, “Watch Shigaraki tear down the world ‘cause he’s beautiful and I love him,” and honestly, mood.

4: I’ll just come out and say it: fandom blew Geten’s words way out of proportion because a bunch of people got mad that he was being mean to Everyone’s Favorite Serial Killer Dabi.

5: An archaic term by this period.  Even “meta-human” saw more use in academic parlance, while the term “quirk” had become much more widespread among the general population since its official adoption during the period of legislation twenty years prior.

[thirdbasedumpsterfire]

Doby vs Toby a comparison Part 1

Alright so as I'm sure many of you know Third base and it’s main character Doby Doggers were originally created as a response to Ticci Toby’s removal from Creepypasta. Doby was created as a respectful yet spiteful way to replace Toby in fan work (His name being a direct correlation, Doby Doggers, Toby Roggers) That was why I latched onto him to begin with. He was also made to fit the role toby filled hence why the story follow the same general beats. 

Despite this I don’t talk a lot about Toby on this blog. Partially because Kastoway wants us to forget him and partially because I don’t want to treat Doby like a rip off character.  Doby is his own character and in my opinion RJ did a great job at making an original character with a familiar vibe.

Still, as much as I don’t want Toby to define Doby that is where he started. Plus it’s a lot of fun to compare and contrast the two of them and their stories. So that’s what I'm here to do. Strap in because this’ll be a long one.

Quick disclaimer I’ll be stating a lot of my personal opinion in this. If Toby still means a lot to you thats great, but spoiler alert I prefer Doby’s story.

Also this will obviously spoil both stories as I'll be discussing every aspect of the characters and their stories including the endings.

TW for Suicide, Death, Car accidents, Mental illness, Nightmares, Paranoia, Hallucinations, Child Abuse, Drinking, Murder, Arson, Psychosis, Transphobia, Dysphoria, Ableism

There’s a lot to compare between these two stories so let’s start with their stories.

STORY

Tragedy & Sibling Relationship

Both stories start with tragedy and the first shared element between them. Both stories center around a close sibling relationship torn apart but death. 

For Toby that was his older sister Lyra. She died in a car crash that Toby was also in. Lyra isn’t given much character  (which is a recurring problem in Toby’s story) but it’s clear that she and Toby were very close. He loved his sister more than anything and she was his only friend. 

For Doby it was his older brother John. John committed suicide while living with their mother. Doby lives with his father. We’re told a little about John. He was a painter and collected art from the thrift store, He and Doby would talk for hours about baseball and Doby’s love life. We know they were very close even after their parents divorce. 

The most interesting difference between the two in this aspect is the difference in situation. Toby was bullied into homeschooling and his father was very abusive. As a result he didn’t have any outside friends. He also didn’t have any other family relationship as he saw his mother as a coward for how she took the abuse and obviously hated his father. This made Lyra his only friend and only human to interact with. There was also a difference in the type of trauma her death gave him. Toby has CIP-A which means he can’t feel pain so when the crash happened he didn’t pass out on impact he was conscious and saw his sisters injuries. He watched her die.

Doby by comparison was in a fairly normal environment. His parents were divorced but beyond that he had a typical upbringing. He and John were more organically close. Johns death was a different type of trauma because it was suicide. Suicide is a different thing to a car crash. both are sudden but one I more preventable than the other. Suicide leaves those left behind feeling responsible or at very least looking for somewhere to place the blame. Doby blamed his mother’s refusal to help John and her narcissistic attitude for Johns death.

Parents and Family Relationship

this is the key difference between the two. Toby has been abused for years, he is still in an abusive situation, and just lost his sister. He was beyond traumatized to begin with so it’s no surprise he was so easy to push over the edge.

Doby by comparison had a normal childhood. His mother was terrible and verbally abusive but she was removed from the picture when he was young. He also grew up trans and that certainly affected him but his father, brother, and friends accepted him giving him a good support system.

Toby and Doby both had abusive parents but Toby was kept in that environment his entire life whereas Doby got out of it young. That is the main difference between the two.

Even when it came to the “good parents” Toby had his mom who was complicit in his abuse. Doby at least had a supportive and loving father.

Slenderman

Of course both story’s incorporate Slenderman as a key plot point. Both characters are Proxies.

Slenderman is not mentioned by name in either (why would he be)but his representation differs in an interesting way.

Toby’s story describes him as an image we as Creepypasta fan are familiar with, a tall pale man in a suit standing under a streetlamp. This can be attributed to the time it was written back in slendervers’s hay day. His affect on toby is quite extreme. Toby suffers hallucinations, vivid night terrors, extreme paranoia, extreme dissociation, an allure towards arson, and of course homicidal tendencies. He show’s severe PTSD symptoms as well.

Toby’s problems go as far as seeing his dead sister with horrible injuries during a night terror. Despite his situation his mother get’s worried enough to take him to a psychologist.

 Doby however, never really directly sees or describes Slenderman. The story takes advantage of our knowledge as creepypasta fans much like Toby’s. Except now we don’t even need explicit description all we need is the connection to the woods and the knowledge of Doby’s connection to Toby’s story to recognize the monster of the story. 

Doby’s decent is also a lot more subtle as well. It’s little things that eventually lead to the ending. Most of the focus is on him mourning John. He thinks endlessly about it and disassociates as a coping mechanism. Eventually he begins having night terrors. They aren’t outright threatening at first but just the prospect of losing his brother over and over again pushes him to lose sleep. Doby doesn’t suffer hallucinations either (which is rare in slenderverse) He is sleep deprived and deals with intrusive homicidal thoughts about his mother.

Murder 

Toby and Doby both murder their abusive parents in the end and set the house on fire before running off into the woods. Beyond that the circumstances behind the murders differ greatly.

If Toby were to have been tried in court he would have been charged with Voluntary Manslaughter if he wasn’t found not guilty by reason of insanity. I believe he likely would be. this is because Toby didn’t plan to kill his father. He certainly meant to be it was a crime of passion. He killed in the heat of a moment of rage.

The reason I say he would be found not guilty by reason of insanity is because of the severity of his mindset. Toby is a true proxy through and through he was not in control when killing his dad. He wasn't not in control when he set the neighborhood on fire either. Toby was completely dissociated. He certainly meant to kill and wouldn't regret it but he was gone when the killing happened.

If Doby were tried in court he would have been found guilty of First Degree Murder. Doby planned to kill his mom and that’s the key difference between the two murders. He wasn't set off in a fit of rage, he was cold and calculated. He broke in, made sure she couldn't get to the phone, broke plates to get her downstairs, and hid in the dark until she was within a bat swings distance. He was very there unlike Toby. Doby absolutely knew what he was doing. 

That’s the difference. Toby wanted to kill his dad but wasn't in control. Doby wanted to kill his mom and did the only influence Slenderman needed was getting him to go through with it.

Endings

The last thing I’ll talk about in this post is the ending of both stories.

At the end of Toby’s story his mom walks in on him having killed his dad. In a panic he runs outside and lights the neighborhood on fire before presumably dying. Then we step into his mother point of view as she move in with he sister. she’s mourning the loss of her family when she sees a report of a serial killer on the loose that is presumed to be her son.

Doby’s story ends much more open-ended. He smashes his moms head to a pulp before lighting her house on fire. he walks out with tears in his eyes and calls Johns voicemail telling his brother that he’s coming home before walking out to the woods.

I think these endings sum up very well the differences between these two characters and their stories. Ticci Toby is a horror. Third Base is a tragedy. sure they each have a hint of the other but they are mainly those things. That difference is in everything from the tone, to the character development, to the motivation, to of course the endings.

In the next post I'll compare and contrast the characters themselves so stay tuned~ 

~ Mod Vilet

[currebunz]

Commission: Mammon One-shot

AO3 Link

The Devildom was a lot to take in, for any angel or human. It was hard to put it into words, it was like entering a new world. Well, it was. Being one of the first humans to study in the Devildom was a big step for you. This year, you would be studying alongside demons and angels. It didn’t sit in when you had traveled through the magic portal and ended up in the always night-time world. Even as you walked into R.A.D, it still didn’t feel real to you. The demons and angels around you maintained calm forms, making it a bit easier to take in as there was a lack of wings and horns. The kicker was that you also lived with a rowdy group of demon brothers. One was supposed to show you to the campus. The demon of greed, Mammon. "Hey! Human! I'm talking to you!" a familiar voice called out to you. You turned around in time to see Mammon stomp up to you. His face was set in a grumpy frown as if you had taken his precious "Goldie". You didn't flinch away as he tried to puff up his chest to you. "Didn't you hear me? Man, you're a lost cause for sure" he said as he sighed dramatically. You weren't sure why Mammon always did this, it wasn't like you had much influence down here. With anyone else, he was this money squandering demon who was also an older brother. But when it was just you, he always talked proudly about himself. "No, did you need something?" you asked him. Mammon paused for a moment, almost like a frozen screen video game. "No," he said almost childishly. There it was, the small moment of embarrassment that you liked. You weren't sure why it happened, but it was nice to see Mammon relax around you. It wasn't that you wanted to tease him, rather, his proud persona was rather dull. "The great Mammon thought he'd show you some kindness and show you to R.A.D" he said after some time. "You mean Lucifer told you to take me and you just remembered" you couldn't help but giggle. "What?! No!" Mammon gasped. He glanced around, just in case Lucifer was close by. He cleared his throat and regained composure. "Anyways, I'll show you to class already" he cleared his throat and began walking ahead of you. It was obvious he was slowing his pace down for you to follow. This morning, Mammon had left rather quickly from the House of Lamentation. He was taller and his long legs made him disappear before you could leave the dinner table. "Okay" you called out to him. Despite Mammon's "kindness", you were glad he was here. You had heard from Lucifer that various demons would try to approach you if it wasn't for one of the brothers being around. As the two of you walked, you could feel eyes on your body. You were the only human here, not that you would count Solomon as a human. The man was capable of magic, making him just as dangerous as the demons. Compared to him, you were a bunny in a lion's den. "Ha! You're lucky we have the first period together. I bet you wouldn't have made it to the classroom by yourself!" Mammon laughed loudly. You thought about saying a smart retort but held it back. A better idea came to mind. "Thank you, Mammon. I appreciate it" you smiled at him. It was brief, but Mammon's face turned to one of shock. His blue eyes went wide and a red blush stretched across his face. "Um, yeah! Now that is more like it!" he laughed loudly. Several stares came your way as Mammon ate up your praise. He was like a puppy when it came to gratitude. You've come to notice that much at least. As pathetic as it was to most, you found it endearing. It was one of the many things you came to like about Mammon.

 As class carried through, you found your eyes wandering the classroom. It was fairly tame for what you had imagined it to be. Resembling that of a movie for wizards or something. Thus, you eventually laid your eyes on Mammon. At first glance, he had his nose buried deep into his textbook. That took you by surprise, Mammon didn't seem to be the study type. But when he turned the page, you saw a flashy logo and text on the paper. It dawned on you that he was in fact, not reading his textbook. Instead, a magazine was snuggly slipped into the pages, hiding it from view. Now that was more Mammon's speed. You recalled him boasting about modeling for some agency with a magazine company. So in a way, he was "studying". You decided to take extra careful notes so that you could share them with him later. Once the class concluded, Mammon let out a tired groan. "Man! That was boring" he sighed loudly. "Oh please, you weren't even paying attention" you scolded him. He looked taken back as if offended by your claim. "Sure I was! I can learn just from hearing alone" he defended. "Okay, what was today's lecture over?" you asked Mammon with a grin. He went quiet, shuffling in place nervously. "You know, boring stuff," he said quietly. It was like a child being caught red-handed after doing something bad. You couldn't help but laugh a little. Mammon's expression changed and he pouted. "Hey! What are you laughing at? I could easily make you regret it, you know?!" he yelled angrily. He crossed his arms over his chest and turned away. "Whatever, I have somewhere to be anyways" he began. You recalled that your next class wasn't with Mammon. Suddenly, the air around you felt serious. Mammon looked a bit conflicted, but he wasn't leaving. By now, you two were the only ones left in the classroom. "So, you know I wouldn't mind showing you to your next class if you asked me," Mammon said in a quiet voice. A smile etched its way onto your lips as you walked up next to him. "Mammon, please walk me to my class," you asked sweetly. A big smile stretched across his face and he laughed proudly. "Since you asked so nicely, I suppose I could help you out, human" he announced to no one else. Mammon began walking again, glancing at his side to make sure you were keeping up. It was painfully cute at how attentive he was being.

Once you had arrived at your classroom, Mammon lingered outside. Once again, he resembled a puppy as he frowned about. "You don't have to worry about me, Satan is in this class" you explained. Mammon turned his nose upward, looking away. "I-I wasn't worried about you or anything! I was just thinking about...what I want for lunch!" he argued. Mammon scratched the back of his head nervously. "You can join me you know, whileI'm still feeling generous..." he added in a low voice. You nodded, knowing full well what he was getting at. "I'd be happy to join you during lunch," you said to him. Mammon frowned a bit, giving you his strictest glare. "Hey, don't get the wrong idea, human. I'm inviting you, Not the other way around" he said. But he didn't seem as angry as he was trying to playoff. "I know" you giggled at him. Pleased with your responses, Mammon relaxed and a smile played out on his lips. "Good, I'll come to get you after class. Don't go wandering around you got that?!" Mammon demanded. You nodded again, feeling the excitement radiating off of him. "Alright then, later human!" he ran off after that. You went to class and managed to understand most of the concepts. Satan hadn't said much to you, he appeared to be just as busy as Lucifer. The most he had done was ask you if anyone had given you trouble yet. The amused smile he wore didn't make you feel any better. It was like he had wanted to hear that you had run into trouble. "Well, just make sure you don't die yet," he said with a smile before leaving. Once Satan had left, you waited outside the classroom for Mammon. You thought you had seen him earlier, but when you had looked down the hallway, he wasn't there. After some time, Mammon rounded the corner. "There you are human, let's go already. I'm starving" he said. The way he avoided looking directly at you made you wonder if he had practiced his lines. "I'm ready to leave if you are," you told him. Mammon looked a bit surprised as if he had thought you hadn't been waiting for him. Which you had been. "O-Oh 'kay then. Let's go" he muttered to himself. It didn't take long for you to arrive at the cafeteria. It was buzzing with students as everyone raced to get the best picks. Mammon took sneaky glances at what you were picking. At first, you thought he might be playing a trick on you. But you noticed him smile happily to himself when you picked something he had also picked. After filling your plate with the most questionable food you had ever seen in your life, you began looking for a place to sit. "Hold on there, where do you think you are going?" Mammon grabbed your shoulder and turned you away from the other tables. You noticed his brothers were all seated at a long table secluded from the other tables. "You may be a lowly human, but you aren't gonna sit with just anyone. Be glad I'll let you sit next to me" he said as he began pushing you toward the table.

 Conveniently, there was an empty seat next to Mammon's usual spot. You didn't say anything as you sat down next to Mammon. The others were animatedly in conversation, looking at their phones, or protecting their food from Beelzebub. You ate slowly as you tried to determine whether or not you liked what you picked. "What's the matter? If you don't eat, Beel is gonna take your food" Mammon suddenly said to you. This earned him your attention, just as he had wanted. "Oh, I was just thinking about whether or not I liked it is all" you confessed. Mammon shook his head, using his fork to scoop up a bit of what was on his plate. "It can't be helped, try this. It's pretty good" he said. You didn't miss the flush on his cheeks as he guided the fork to your mouth. You hesitated for a moment before opening your mouth. As Mammon fed you, the table went quiet. To your surprise, the food he chose wasn't awful. You had liked it! Once you had swallowed, the chaos began. "Aren't you two close" Lucifer said in mild amusement. Beelzebub merely nodded in your direction before swallowing an entire plate. "I'm surprised you would trust Mammon's taste in anything" Satan grinned. Leviathan looked like he was ready to duck under the table. "Doing something so lovey-dovey in front of me like that. It's not like you'd ever want an otaku like me anyway" he mumbled sadly. "There goes my appetite, you can have mine, Beel'' Belphegor yawned as he slid his plate to his brother. Asmodeus pouted at you, batting his eyes. "That's so unfair, I wanna feed you too," he said as he raised his fork. He reached over and tugged your chin in his direction. "Say ah~" he sang happily. Before you could say anything, Mammon's face moved in the way of yours. He bit down on Asmodeus's fork, blankly staring his brother in the face. "Hey Mammon, that wasn't for you" Asmodeus glared at the greedy demon. "This human is my responsibility, I can feed her myself" Mammon argued. A light sparked in Asmodeus' eye, but he didn't say anything. The demon of lust sat back in his chair with a knowing smile on his face. You couldn't help but feel a bit of a rush from Mammon's actions. After lunch, your classes flew by pretty quickly. When it came time to return to the House of Lamentation, you found yourself at a loss. The winding path that took you to R.A.D was hard to remember and now you weren't sure where to go. As you began to debate calling Lucifer for help, you heard someone cough nearby. "Hey, what are you doing loitering around after school?" Mammon asked. "Well, I don't remember how to get back to the dorm" you confessed. There wasn't any reason to lie about your problem, after all, you were about to turn to Lucifer. "Hahaha! You don't remember? It's sure easy!" Mammon laughed loudly. Although, his laughter died down after seeing how it didn't amuse you. "Well? Aren't you going to ask Lucifer for help or something?" he asked. The way he fidgeted made you think he had something else he wanted to say. "No, I wasn't planning to" you lied. You had an idea as to what was going to happen next. "Oh!...er I mean it can't be helped. The great Mammon will show you back, for a price" he grinned at you. For a moment, you began to wonder what ridiculous amount of Grimm he would ask for. "I'm good thanks" you started but Mammon stopped you. "Hold on, hold on! I don't want your money!" he shouted. Once he was sure you weren't going to leave, he looked off to the side. "You will just have to spend the rest of the day with me is all," he said in a quiet voice. You couldn't help but smile after hearing his demands. "Okay, your room or mine?" you asked him. Mammon looked almost relieved that you had accepted his offer. "Your room, of course, my brothers don't even knock on my door before entering," he said as he began pulling you along. His hand had your wrist as he led you through the gates of R.A.D. You caught up to him and slipped your hand into his. Mammon jumped a little, but he didn't pull away from you. "If you follow this way, you'll pass all the good places on your way to school" he began as he tugged you down the street. Various shops lined the streets, showcasing their latest goods in the windows. You weren't very interested in shopping but knew that Mammon was. Almost everything caught his eye as he would stop and stare at the windows. He was like a little kid with how he would pull you over and point out something that he liked. "Hey, doesn't this look pretty cool? It'd look even cooler on me though!" he would boast. "Yeah, it really would" you had said in agreement. Mammon wore a silly smile as he walked. "Hmm, but do you see anything you like? Cuz I saw some stuff that might look good on you" he asked.

 Now that you thought about it, nothing caught your eye yet. You had been too busy focusing on Mammon to find something you liked. "Oh, I haven't been looking," you confessed. He shook his head as if he were one to lecture you. "That's not good, you should be thinking about yourself sometimes you know? Besides.....I might want to get you something" he said the last bit quietly but you had heard him. Despite him being almost broke at all times, it warmed your heart knowing he thought about you like that. "It's okay, it's the thought that counts" you assured him. But Mammon made a face and turned away. "Bah! I'm just trying to be nice to you. Don't know what I expected from a human" he said in a grumpy tone. Even though he had sounded frustrated, Mammon was still holding your hand tightly. The two of you continued walking until you reached the House of Lamentation. Mammon didn't slow his pace as he made a beeline to your room. Before you knew it, you were back in the semi-familiar room with Mammon at your side. He looked around curiously, taking in some of your items. "You can let go of my hand now" you giggled as you tugged at your joined hands. Mammon jumped, releasing your hand as if it were on fire. "I wasn't holding your hand because I liked it or anything! You, humans, are just so easy to lose track of and get lost" he argued. But you could tell he had enjoyed it by how much he had smiled during your way over. "You can call me by my name, you know, that 'human' thing is getting kind of old," you told him as you sat down on your bed. Mammon made a face, smiling like he knew a secret. "Hm? Does it bug you or something?" he grinned. It was your turn to frown, giving him a tired look. "No, it's just tasteless and rude," you explained. Mammon flopped onto the other side of your bed. "Yeah whatever, just admit it annoys you and I'll stop, human" he grinned. "I already told you, it's not annoying" you argued. But Mammon continued to give you a shit-eating grin. "Human! Human! Human!" he cheered happily. Out of frustration, you threw your pillow at his face. It collided with a hollow thud as it connected with his face. "Hey! Don't throw stuff at me!" Mammon shouted as he grabbed the pillow. you threw another one at him and he barely dodged it. "Stop calling me human and I'll stop throwing pillows at you" you argued. Mammon gaped at you in disbelief. "What else am I supposed to call you then?" he asked. "Call me by my name," you said plainly. Mammon held the pillow up to his face, hiding his embarrassment. You heard him mumble something into the cushion, but you hadn't caught it. "Huh? What was that?" you asked him. Mammon let out a growl before he threw the pillow at your stomach. "I said ____! Jeez!" he shouted angrily. He dived at you and the next thing you knew, you were pinned to the bed under him. You couldn't help but blush from the situation. Mammon was thin, but from this angle, you could see how defined he was. "There! I said it..." Mammon trailed off. His body had moved on its own, he hadn't meant to tackle you like this. Now that he was up close, he noticed the smaller things about you. His heart began to race, what was with him?! There was a knock at the door, ripping the two of you from your thoughts. Lucifer entered the room without warning. "____, I have something...." he trailed off as he noticed the position you were in. Everything happened so quickly. "Maaaammmmoooonnn!" Lucifer was so pissed his demon side came out. "I-It's not what it looks like!" Mammon screamed as he jumped off of you. He ran out of your room quickly, narrowly avoiding Lucifer's grasp. "He can run, but he can't hide from me," Lucifer said as he calmed himself down. He composed himself before turning to you and handing you a card. "There is going to be a dinner at Lord Diavolo's home. Wear something nice" he said curtly before speed walking out of your room. That night, screams of terror could be heard through the house.

 The next morning, Mammon was found in the stairwell hung upside down. "LOL! Mammon's been caught again!" Leviathan laughed as he snapped pictures of his brother. "Hey! Don't just take pictures of me! Help!" Mammon shouted. You looked around for anything that could reach him, but alas nothing would help you. "Levi, can you get Mammon down?" you asked. "Pshh, why would I do that? This is hilarious!" Leviathan continued to revel in his brother's misery. "Please? I'll show you a game from the human world" you offered. Leviathan was quick with how he shot a bolt of magic at Mammon. "Yikes! Warn me next time!" Mammon shouted as he landed on his feet. He fixed his uniform before turning to you. "Thanks ____, I guess I owe you," he said sheepishly. Leviathan shoved Mammon out of the way and stood in front of you. "Out of the way normie! People are talking" he said before returning his attention to you. "So this game? Is it cool? Or maybe it's a sim dating game? Tell me! Tell me!" he began gushing to you. Mammon frowned and stood behind you. "Back off you damn otaku, ____ is hanging with me today" he declared. You gently pushed the two away from you before speaking up. "Levi, I'll text you the details later okay?" You promised him. He looked a bit down, but not like when he usually got upset. "Fiiiine, stupid Mammon. Always taking ____ from me" he muttered as he began walking back to his room. Once Leviathan was gone, Mammon began smiling. "So, about why I was tied up. Lucifer caught me searching for Goldie again" he explained. You recalled Lucifer muttering about Mammon's cursed credit card earlier this morning. He had mentioned hiding it somewhere Mammon wouldn't go. "I wonder where he stuck it this time? The freezer was just messed up. What if he damaged my darling?" Mammon continued. An idea came to mind as you realized the situation you were in. "If I find Goldie, will you form a pact with me?" you asked. "Of course!... Er, that is if you find her" Mammon blushed. His heart had raced a bit at the idea of forming a pact with you. But he dismissed it as being excited as to get Goldie back. "Challenge accepted, I know just the place!" you led Mammon off to the small study in the house. All the walls in it were full of books, none of which Mammon would read. "I'm sure it's here, Lucifer said it was somewhere you wouldn't go" you explained. Mammon was quiet for a bit before it hit him. "Hey! I could be here sometimes....if I wanted to...." he muttered to himself. You rolled your eyes and began looking at the bindings. "It would be a book recently moved, how are we supposed to find out which one?" you asked aloud. "Eh? I dunno, maybe it's the least dusty" Mammon laughed. You gave him a pointed glare and he sighed. "Okay, so we could just ask Satan. He usually comes here to read so he probably saw Lucifer" he suggested. You knew he was right, there was at least a chance that Satan would know. "Stay here, if you come with me it will be too obvious," you told Mammon. "Hey! Don't give me orders!" he argued. But you didn't budge on your choice. "Do you want Goldie or not?" you asked him. Mammon sat down on the couch with the speed of a whipped animal. You held back your laughter as you left the study and headed to Satan's room. It only took one knock for the blonde to open his door. "Oh, it's you. Did you need something?" he asked. "Did you see the book Lucifer took out of the study yesterday?" you asked him. Satan thought for a moment before answering. "Yeah, it was the encyclopedia of famous figures in the devildom. It's a dark purple one if you haven't seen it yet" he explained. "Thanks, Satan, you've been a big help" you smiled at him. Before you could leave, he stopped you. "Is this about Mammon's credit card? If so, make sure Mammon waves it in Lucifer's face" he chuckled. You knew very well that Satan didn't like Lucifer and would jump at the idea of pissing him off. "I promise you that Lucifer will be very angry afterward," you told him. Pleased with your response, Satan went back into his room.

 You hurried back to the study, finding Mammon sitting on the couch. As soon as you came back, he stood up. "Your back!" he shouted. You stopped, smiling at Mammon. "Did you think I wasn't coming back?" you asked him. "W-well! I mean you took so long! I could've gone myself..." Mammon said shyly. "Uh-huh," you hummed as you walked to the bookshelf. Your eyes scanned the shelves until you came upon a thick purple book. The binding matched the description Satan had given you. However, the book was much higher than you had expected. You looked around for a ladder but none were in the room. You were reminded that the brothers had wings and were much taller than you. Which meant they didn't have much need for ladders. You turned to Mammon, motioning him to come closer. He came over to you quickly, standing exactly where you wanted him. "Give me a lift," you told him. Mammon crouched down and let out a small shriek as you climbed onto his shoulders. "H-Hey! What are you doing?" he shouted. "Be still! Don't drop me!" you shouted to him. Mammon finally settled, holding you up with ease. Although, he kept his head down so as to not look at you. His arms were locked with your legs, keeping you pressed against his neck as you pulled the book out. You flipped through the pages until you felt a part in the book. Sticking out between the pages was a gold card. It was almost tacky looking with the fine details on it. You plucked the card out from the book and patted Mammon's head. "Okay, let me down," you told him. Mammon crouched down so you could climb off of him. He tried to ignore the warm feeling he had when your hands met his body. Once your feet were on the ground, you turned to him and handed him the credit card. “Here you go, as promised” you grinned. Mammon’s eyes lit up in joy as he swiped his precious card from you. “Haha! Goldie it’s been too long! Did you miss me? I bet you did” he cooed to the piece of plastic. You would have found it endearing if it had been anything but a credit card. “We have got some shopping to do together, I can’t wait to hit the stores” Mammon continued to fawn over his credit card as if you were not there. “Ahem, aren’t you forgetting something?” you asked. Mammon tensed up, slipping Goldie into his pocket. “Oh right, y-yeah” he said nervously.

 It was time to form a pact as promised. “Hold out your hand already” he ordered you. As you extended your hand, Mammon dropped to one knee. His larger hands gently pulled yours to his face. “I, Mammon, forge this pact with you” he announced. You flinched as you felt his lips brush against the back of your hand. A jolt of energy surged up your arm as you felt something stir inside you. Mammon stood back up quickly, avoiding eye contact with you. “Well, that is it! Just don’t make me do anything weird” he said as he tried to leave. “Mammon, sit” you ordered without hesitation. “Yikes!” the demon immediately planted himself on the floor like a dog. “Oh my god, I didn’t think it would work” you began laughing into your hand. Mammon shot you a pointed glare, standing back up and fixing his clothes. “What did I just say?” he growled. But somehow, you felt like he lacked his usual bite. “Sorry, I just had to” you continued to giggle. Mammon’s face was slightly red, but he didn’t say anything. He liked hearing you laugh….Wait a minute! He liked hearing you laugh?! A human?! Mammon began to panic, was this a side effect of the pact? “Yeah, yeah, whatever. So, did you have anything planned, or were you just going to laugh at me all day?” he complained. Right now, he wanted to get back to spending his money before Lucifer came after him again. “No, that was all I wanted to do today. Now that I formed a pact with you, I'm good” you admitted. However, Mammon appeared restless. “Hey, this isn’t just some small thing ya know? You made a pact with me, the great Mammon after all” he mumbled. “I know” you continued to smile at him. Mammon puffed his cheeks out, pointing at you. “I’m your first guy after all! You should do something to celebrate” he demanded. Now you were a bit confused. Honestly, you didn't know much about the pact. Solomon had only raised the idea to you for fun and you had not taken it seriously at first. But the idea of forming a pact with Mammon didn’t sound too bad. “Okay, then how do we celebrate?” you asked him. Mammon got quiet again, avoiding your gaze. You saw his lips move, but didn’t hear what he had said. “Hmm? What was that?” you pressed him to speak up. “Let’s spend some time together, in your room okay?!” Mammon shouted. He grabbed your hand tightly and began dragging you back to your room. He shut the door and locked it, charming it so no one would interrupt. You stood in your room awkwardly, wondering what Mammon was planning. When he finally faced you, he was blushing from ear to ear. “You humans don’t know it, but forging a pact is special for us demons. So, we gotta make it mean something between us” he explained. Again, you found yourself unsure what he meant by that. “Should we throw a party or something?” you suggested. Suddenly, you were pushed onto your bed. Your vision was filled with a flurry of white hair as Mammon climbed on top of you. The only difference between this time and the last was that this was not an accident. From the look in Mammon’s blue eyes, you could tell he had meant to pin you like this. “You’re gonna make me spell it out for you huh?” he said quietly. Suddenly, it hit you. Mammon was implying...that sort of thing. You felt your cheeks heat up and you felt small under him. “O-Oh, so you meant that…” you said in a hushed voice. Mammon nodded, looking equally as embarrassed. “Took you long enough! I was trying to be nice and stuff…” Mammon pouted. Honestly, you were such a handful.He moved closer to you, nudging your nose with his. “D-Don’t look at me like that! It’s normal to want to kiss your partner” he pouted. You wore a playful smile as he pressed his lips to yours. It was a sweet gesture, earning a pleased hum from you. His tongue ran along your bottom lip, asking for permission to enter. At first, you teased him by not letting him in.  You could hear him growl and whine a bit before you parted your lips slowly. Mammon’s tongue eagerly entered your mouth, deepening the kiss. When you needed some air, you tugged at the hairs on his neck. “Yowch! Not so hard!” Mammon yelped as he pulled back. You laughed softly at him, taking the time to breathe in. Mammon was leaning closer to you, eager to kiss you again. You could tell by the pitiful look on his face and the way his lips twitched. You gave him a quick peck, retreating before he could deepen the kiss again. “Hey…” he pouted before following you. He pressed his lips to yours again, moaning as you kissed back. He felt you smile into the kiss and part your lips for him again. Not to be outdone, Mammon let his hands fall to your waist.

 When he reached for your shirt, you flinched. “Heh, it’s gotta come off to do this” he grinned. Now it was his turn to tease you as he began stripping you. “N-Not so quickly! And you need to strip too!” you shrieked as he removed your shirt. “That eager to see my body? I can’t blame you, who wouldn’t want to?” Mammon laughed as he leaned back. You watched him tug his shirt from over his head, tossing it behind him. His tanned abs rippled with each breath he took. But Mammon’s eyes were focused on the naked skin he could see. He wanted to see more, find out what you liked and didn’t like. Without warning, he reached for your bra. “Mammon! Sit!” you shouted at him. The demon fell back onto his rear, hitting the floor with a loud thud. “Ow! You don’t have to be so rough with me!” Mammon complained. You could see his eyes from over the edge of the bed. He was still staring at you with that hungry look but not moving. You sat up, pulling your legs to your chest. “I could say the same to you, be more careful with me,” you said back. Mammon looked a bit annoyed but didn’t argue with you. After a moment of silence, Mammon spoke up. “Are you gonna let me move again?” he asked. You shook your head, earning a groan from him. “I’ll tell you what you can and can’t do for now” you said hesitantly. It felt kind of good calling the shots right now. Especially when Mammon made such a pouty face. “Ugh, fiiiiiine” he whined. You let your legs stretch back across the bed and waved your hand at him. “Mammon, come here” you ordered him. He quickly clamored to his feet, standing at the edge of your bed like an eager pet. “You may….touch my legs” you said as he reached for your bottoms. He quickly tugged the article down and tossed it aside. His hands gently traced up your legs, stopping at your knees. When you looked down at him, you saw he was staring at you. Rather, he was staring at your panties. "Mammon!" you squeaked as you covered yourself with your hands. "W-What's wrong with me looking?" he argued. His hands rested on your knees, pulling your legs apart to get a closer look. "I-It's embarrassing!" you yelled. But his hands continued to move up your thighs, squeezing gently as he rose onto the bed. You felt your mattress shift and could tell he was kneeling in front of you. Mammon's face was lined up with yours, looking into your eyes for once. "Hey. Don't hide from me" he began. You slowly brought your hands up, turning away shyly. Now, Mammon let his fingers reach up to the waistband of your panties. His fingers hooked around them, pulling gently as he pulled. You closed your eyes, unable to watch him. Mammon slipped your panties off with your help, removing them from around your feet. He looked down at you, finding the sigh downright adorable. He was reminded that you were human, just a soft human. He had to be careful with you, especially when it came to the main show. "Um, are you sure about this?" he swallowed as you looked at him. "You're asking now? After all that?" you asked. Mammon gave a shy smile. "I-I mean you are a human! I'll seriously hurt you ya know?" he argued. You saw Mammon glance at his pants and look away. Your eyes followed and noticed the small tent in his pants.

 You felt your face heat up at the implication. "Just be gentle" you ordered as you laid back on the bed. Mammon took this as an okay to go ahead since any order you gave him would result in him stopping. His hands moved up to your torso, sliding along your skin until he reached your bra. "Hey, lift so I can remove it" Mammon huffed. You looked up at him and gasped. Your noses were almost touching with how close he was. For some reason, he appeared oddly focused, not flinching away from you. "Okay," you did as he asked, feeling his fingers reach behind you. A soft snap could be heard before your bra slipped from your shoulders. Mammon tossed it aside quickly, his eyes taking in the sight of your naked breasts. "C-Can I touch them?" he asked. Although his fingers were already inching closer to your chest. "Yes, you may" you sighed out as he gleefully grabbed at you. At first, it was a bit painful with how rough he was being. "M-Mammon! W-Wait!" you began as you reached for his wrists. He instantly froze up, going rigid like a statue. After about a second, his body relaxed. "Again with the orders" he groaned. You relaxed a bit, remembering you were still in control of this. "Gently now" you warned him. Mammon nodded quickly, his eyes still on your tits. You felt him grab your breasts more carefully this time, giving them a slight squeeze as he rolled them around in his hands. "Humans are so soft, this is the best!" he said happily as he nudged his head into the crook of your neck. "Mammon? What are you doing?" you asked embarrassed by his sudden closeness. "Shut up, I'm just enjoying you. I-Is that so bad?" he pouted at you as he pulled away. You had to admit, he could be cute when he wanted to. "No, it's fine. But I don't know how much longer you will last" you teased him. Reminded about his boner, Mammon reached into his pocket. He flashed you a foil wrapper before tearing it open with his teeth. In the blink of an eye, he had his pants and underwear off. Before you knew it, he was already rolling the condom down his impressive member. "You were that prepared?" you asked in surprise. Mammon's face blew up with red as he fumbled for the right words. "It's not like that! I just figured maybe you would....want to....sometime..." he began to calm down after some time. You supposed even demons had their moments. "It's okay, you're not Asmo" you giggled. Your laughter was cut short as Mammon grabbed your legs and slung them over his shoulders. "Look at you, mentioning another guy when your first guy is in front of you" he grumbled. "The first guy?" you repeated. "Yeah! The first guy you formed a pact with!" he explained proudly. Which was true, you hadn't formed a pact with any other demon. But the way he said it, the title sounded very intimate. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. "You really will be my first guy" you agreed. Mammon went still, understanding what you were implying. "Well, just tell me if it hurts. I don't wanna hurt you after all" he said meekly. You felt him shift and something pressed against your opening. Two thin fingers slipped inside, slowly stretching you. “Ah~!” you gasped as Mammon began fingering you. He moved slowly, watching your face for any signs of discomfort. With his intense stare and the feeling of his fingers inside you, the warmth began to spread. You heard a wet noise coming from below as you grew more aroused.

 “It’s so warm and wet down here” Mammon said in amazement. You closed your eyes, pouting at him. “Don’t narrate it!” you squealed at him. But Mammon just laughed to himself. “Sounds like someone is getting shy. Don’t you know there will be more sounds once we start?” he teased. It wasn’t surprising that he was getting all cocky now that you were at his mercy. “Just do it properly okay?” you begged him. You felt his fingers move deeper and his thumb brush against your clit. “Trust me, I’ll make it a night you won’t forget” he smirked at you. Once Mammon was sure you were ready for him, he slipped his fingers out of your core. His fingers left with a sucking noise, covered in your fluids. Mammon used the same hand to grab his cock, stroking it slowly. Your cum was smeared over the condom, leaving it shiny in the dim lighting. Mammon positioned himself before you, relishing in the heat emanating from your cunt. "I'm gonna enter okay? Just relax" he warned. You tried your best to set yourself at ease. But the moment he pushed in, you couldn't help but tense up. Both you and Mammon let out grunts and groans as he continued to push into you. "M-Mammon! You're too big!" you cried out. "I-I ain't that big!" he shouted in defense. It took a while before you felt the pain dull down. By then Mammon was about halfway in. He had stopped himself from continuing in until you said so. "You're so freakin tight! Cut me some slack will ya?" he sighed. You took a deep breath, sighing out loudly. "Okay, you can move," you told him. Just as the last syllable escaped your lips, Mammon's hips began moving. He tried to start slow, resulting in an awkward set of thrusts as if to test the waters. Once he got the hang of it, you felt him go particularly deep. "S-Sorry! Did it hurt?" he asked you in a strained voice. "No...it felt good" you sighed out. Now, his slow movements were more frustrating than anything else. You wanted him to move a bit faster. "Mammon, go faster," you told him. It was as if you lit a fire in him because suddenly Mammon was moving much faster. You could make out a few words from him as he began ramming into you. "Y-you! A-Again with the orders! I-I can't stop!" he gasped. "I didn't mean to!" you gasped back when he hit the spot in you that made your eyes roll back. Your back arched against the mattress as Mammon leaned over you. Both of your feet dangled helplessly in the air behind him as he pressed himself as close as he could. Mammon's chest was against yours as he drove into you. "It feels too good to stop! Don't make me stop!" he sighed against your ear. You felt his tongue dart out and lick the shell of your ear. With each thrust, you grew closer to your orgasm. "Mammon! I'm close!" you whined loudly. Your nails dug into his back and you bit your lip. With how loud you were being, you didn't want the others to hear the two of you.

 "I know! I'm close too!" Mammon grunted as he pulled out to the tip. He switched to slow but deep thrusts. Filling you to the hilt before pulling out to do it all over again. A few more thrusts and you felt the coil in your stomach snap. Just as a loud moan escaped you, Mammon kissed you. His lips hushed your cry as you came around him. Alternatively, you felt the condom filled with his release. Mammon continued to kiss you until your moans became soft whimpers. He pulled away with a loud grunt, pulling out of you slowly. Your body writhed under him until he fully left you. Mammon pulled away from your tired body to dispose of the condom. He pulled it off and knotted it. He tossed it onto the nearby waste bin and returned to you. Instantly, you found yourself cuddled to Mammon's chest. "Don't go doing this with anyone else okay? I'm your only guy" he whispered. "Hmm, same to you Mammon" you giggled as you snuggled up to him. After your intimate time with Mammon, you noticed he had become more attached to you. The usual distant Mammon was now actively searching for you throughout the day. From breakfast in the morning to the end of classes at R.A.D. You would find Mammon popping up to try and steal your attention from his brothers. At first, you took it as him wanting to keep them from forming a pact with you. Especially since Solomon was talking about how proud he was that you had made one. Even Lucifer seemed happy with the idea of you having some control over Mammon. "Hey, hun~ Why not form a pact with me?" Asmodeus had offered one day. You knew he was only teasing you, after all, Solomon was the only one he had made a pact with. "No thanks Asmo, I know you would have a catch," you told him. "Hm~ You get me ___! Of course, I wouldn't make it that easy!" Asmodeus laughed. You could hear hurried footsteps as Mammon came running up to you. "Asmo, get lost will ya? She said no" he said as he wrapped his arms around you. Mammon's head rested on your shoulder as he glared at his brother. "Wow, I was only messing around Mammon. Are you jealous?" Asmodeus chuckled. "I'm not jealous! I'm just looking out for ____ is all" Mammon shot back. But Asmodeus had a knowing glint in his eyes. "Okay~," he sang as he walked away. You awkwardly coughed, pushing at Mammon's arms. "You can let go of me now," you told him. But Mammon shook his head, giving you a small peck on the cheek. "What if I don't want to?" he smirked. "Mammon s-" before you could finish, he had released you and jumped back. He had an alarmed look on his face, hoping you wouldn’t finish that sentence. "Hehehe works every time" you laughed. "Hey! It does not!" Mammon argued. The two of you continued walking until Lucifer appeared. Mammon visibly flinched, hiding behind you slightly. "Ah, there you two are" Lucifer greeted you and Mammon. "As I said last time, the party is tonight and I hope you both will be on your best behavior" he warned. Lucifer glared particularly at Mammon when he spoke. You recalled he has tried to sell items from Diavolo's home on many occasions, failing as Barbatos and Lucifer caught him each time.

 "I promise," you said as you glanced at Mammon. "Yeah yeah, best behavior and all that," he nodded. Lucifer didn't appear convinced, but he didn't have any time to lecture Mammon. "I'll see you tonight then," Lucifer said before leaving. Once he was out of sight, Mammon let out a sigh. "Whooo~ So about this party?" he relaxed and grinned at you. "Uh-huh, a week ago you didn't want to even go" you rolled your eyes. "W-Well, I mean a guy can change his mind can't he?" he laughed. You weren't the least bit convinced. "Well, I have to go get ready! See you then Mammon!" you told him as you hurried to your room. "Huh? Wait!" Mammon called out to you but you were already gone. You wanted to get ready alone, leaving your dress as a surprise. Of course, this was the only time you would get to go to a dance down in hell. You wanted to look your best but most of all, you wanted to make Mammon's mouth drop to the floor. As you did your makeup, you couldn’t help but hum to yourself. Dress? Check! Hair? Wonderful! Shoes? Of course! As you walked down the stairs of the House of Lamentation, you passed by a sleep Belphegor. “Mmmm~ ____~ Take me to the front hall~” he yawned and reached out to you. “Sure Belphie” you rolled your eyes as you took his hand and tugged him along. Even dressed to the nines, Belphegor was still sleepy and relaxed. As you entered the hall, Beelzebub walked over. “There you are Belphie, and ___ too” he gasped. You passed the sleepy Belphegor to his brother, freeing yourself of the responsibility. “Gah! So shiny!” Levithan flinched away from you as you passed. Somehow, you knew what he meant despite his dramaticism. “Well, someone looks nice” Satan nodded at you. “I’ll say~! You should’ve let me do your nails too!” Asmodeus joined in. The attention was flattering, but you were looking for a specific brother. Mammon was standing close by Lucifer, probably non-voluntarily. As you approached, his eyes went wide. “I’m ready to go” you announced to Lucifer. “You clean up nice, I’m impressed” he replied. You glanced at Mammon, who was still very quiet. “Uh, yeah I suppose” he muttered quietly. That wasn’t quite what you had expected from him. But you didn’t have time to talk to him more as Lucifer gathered up his brothers. It was a short trip to Diavolo’s castle, making the commute easier for everyone. Levithan had complained about being cramped between Mammon and Beelzebub. Asmodeus wanted to take selfies and Belphegor kept nodding off. You managed to keep calm before any chaos could break out. Once everyone was outside the castle, Lucifer whipped them back into place. “Remember, we are the guests here” he said mostly to his brothers. He didn’t expect any trouble from you at least. Diavolo and Barbatos came to greet you all in the foyer, smiling brightly. “I’m so glad you made it, especially you ___!” he chuckled. “I’m just happy to be invited” you smiled back. You felt someone eyes on you but you ignored the feeling. “Oh? I hope you won’t mind the other demon guests. I couldn’t help but notice how well you got along with the student body!” Diavolo said as he opened the ballroom door. The room was filled with various demons, showing their horns and tails casually. You glanced at the brothers and noticed they had also changed into their true demon forms.

 “I smell food” Beelzebub quickly wandered off, looking for the source of food. Belphegor slinked off to find a quiet place to nod off in. Asmodeus was swept away by a group of demons eager to chat with him. Satan left to talk to an associate of his, discussing a book they liked. Leviathan was on his phone in the corner, trying to watch a stream and ignore the rest of the party. That left you, Lucifer, and Mammon. Just as you were about to speak up, Lucifer was already in front of you. “Care to dance?” he asked. But the way he grabbed you hand and pulled you to the dance floor made it sound like you didn’t have much of a choice in the matter. As you toed around on the dance floor, you couldn’t help but ask him. “Why me?” you asked him. “Oh? I just want to make Mammon angry for a bit” Lucifer chuckled as he spun you around. He turned you toward the grumpy Mammon and gave you a push. “Keep him out of trouble” he whispered to you. As you walked up to him, Mammon began to fidget on the spot. “S-So….um….___?” he began. “Yes, Mammon?” you urged him to continue. “Do you want to dance? With me that is” Mammon asked. You slipped your hand into his, squeezing it tightly. “I’d love to” you grinned at him. A big smile appeared on Mammon’s face as he pulled you onto the dance floor. He rested one hand on your waist and one in your hand as he began leading you into a dance. “Wow, you know how to dance?” you said in amazement. “Of course I do! I’m the great Mammon!” he said proudly. You rolled your eyes, he was always easy to please. “Uh-huh, who taught you?” you laughed. “D-Don’t laugh, it was Asmo,” Mammon said quietly. “Aw, you're so nice to your brothers” you teased him. Mammon blushed but didn’t argue with you. “It wasn’t for him, it was for you” he said quietly. It was your turn to blush, feeling on the spot by his statement. Neither of you realized you had stopped dancing. With how close you were, Mammon was ready to move in for a kiss. Just before his lips met yours, a loud voice cut in between the two of you. “Yo Mammon! It’s been a while huh?!” a demon popped up and slung his arm around Mammon’s shoulder. The male demon effectively pulled Mammon from you and held him in a headlock. “Hey! Cut that out!” Mammon pulled himself free and fixed his hair. A female demon appeared, snuggling up to Mammon’s side and holding his arm. “Jeez, Mammon! You never texted me back! It’s rude to leave a lady like that” she huffed at him. Both demons blocked Mammon from your sight, separating you from each other. “Um, excuse me” you tried to move around them but neither demon paid you any mind. “What are you doing hanging around a human? Can’t find better company” the male demon laughed. “Mammon! Why are you wasting time with a human when you have me?” the female demon whined. “H-Hey! What do you mean by that?!” Mammon shouted. But you had already dashed off, unwilling to hear them continue. You ran into a hallway, descending a set of stairs without looking back. You didn’t want to cry, but you couldn’t help it.

 Behind you, someone was approaching quickly. You wiped your tears away and began walking again. You didn’t want anyone to see you like this. Crying on the staircase in a lavish home like some sad princess. But whoever was chasing you was taller, closing the gap quickly. The person followed you all the way to the garden before catching up. “Hey! Wait!” from the voice, you could tell it was Mammon. Knowing him, he wouldn’t give up just because you outwalked him. You stopped in front of the pond in the garden, calming yourself before turning around. Your teary eyes met Mammon’s, making him stop in his tracks. He wore a dumb look on his face as he awkwardly stood before you. “Why did you run off?” he asked, his eyes look for answers in your teary ones. “Why wouldn’t I? Your ‘friends’ obviously didn’t like me” you stated bitterly. “Friends? Those guys just leech on my wallet! I don’t even get how they were invited” Mammon sighed. He looked at the pond and loosened his tie. “Yeah, they did say some mean things about you. But you should’ve stuck around. I gave them an earful over it” he continued. You stared at him with uncertainty, it did sound like something Mammon would do. “Why though?” you asked him. “What?! Really? Are you some kind of idiot?! Why wouldn’t I?!” Mammon gasped in shock. He approached you slowly, almost as if he was afraid you would run away. “I didn’t like what they had to say about you. That was uncalled for, even for a demon. Even if it were my brothers, heck if it was Lucifer, I’d have said something” he continued. You felt him reach for your hands, tenderly taking them into his. His grip was gentle as if you were made of glass and would break under the slightest pressure. “You’re not just any human, you’re ___ and you made a pact with me. So you’re extra special, to me especially” Mammon said with red cheeks. Once again, he was close enough to kiss you. But you were still looking down. One of his hands left yours, lifting your chin so you were looking him in the eyes. “Now where were we?” he said with a grin. You leaned in with him, pressing your lips to his softly. The quiet garden left the two of you in peace as the kiss grew steamier, mostly because of Mammon’s wandering hands. His hands moved up your arms, running along your shoulders. They dipped into your collar before moving down your waist. You could feel his fingertips playing with the zipper of your dress. “Mammon!” you gasped as his kisses traveled to your neck. He hummed loudly as he placed a kiss at the junction of your neck. You felt his teeth nipping at your skin, grazing your flesh before he bit down. He sucked on the area until it was bright red. “Sorry, I can’t stop now” he muttered against your skin. Your body was on fire, from his touches and the situation. Were you really about to fuck in Diavolo’s castle? Yeah, probably. “Okay, but somewhere more private” you told him. Mammon frowned, looking around for someplace nearby. There was a gazebo leading out to the center of the pond. “Nice!” Mammon grinned as he lifted you into his arms. He carried you to the gazebo and dropped you on the long couch inside. “Really?” you asked him. “Private is what you wanted and private is what you got!” he argued. Well, it was semi-private. As long as no one entered the garden. You didn’t get much time to debate it over with him as Mammon crawled on top of you. He resumed kissing you, biting down on your lip and slipping his tongue into your mouth. You couldn’t help but notice he was being more aggressive tonight. His hands pawed at your dress, tugging the material in hopes it would just slide off your body. “The zipper” you sighed against him as you raised yourself with your elbows. Mammon reached behind you and unzipped the dress as far as he could. Instantly, the material slid from you, leaving you almost naked under him. “Hey, you too!” you squeaked when he reached for your panties. “Oh, right” Mammon said almost dejectedly. Although, he didn’t have much to remove in his demon form. You noticed he didn't hide his horns or wings as he stripped. Mammon felt your eyes on him and he stopped. “I can get rid of them if you want,” he offered. “No, it’s fine. I don’t mind” you assured him as you pulled him back between your legs.

 Mammon smirked as he fell back into place with you. “I take it you like what you see” he chuckled. “Hmm, your horns are cute” you hummed as you touched the base of one of his horns. “H-Hey! No touching!” he squeaked as he swatted your hand away. “Hm? Are you sensitive there?” you asked as you squeezed his horn again. “N-No! Geez! Sit back and let me treat you will ya?” Mammon complained as he removed your hand once again. You giggled as you let him take charge. Mammon kissed down your chest, stopping at your breasts. His mouth latched onto one of your nipples while the other one was fondled by his hand. “Mammon…” you sighed blissfully. His hand tweaked your nipple in time with his tongue as it lapped at the other. When he bit down on your nipple, you let out a loud moan. “You like that huh?” Mammon said around your nipple before tugging it with his teeth. “Yes! I do!” you cried out. Thankfully, the gazebo was too far away for anyone to have heard you. Mammon must have thought so too as he left your chest and moved down your body. He pulled your panties off and dove between your legs. Without warning, you felt him place a kiss against your lower lips. “Ah!” you gasped as your hands flew to his head. Half petting him and pushing him closer to you, your nails dug into his hair. “You’re already dripping, you want me this badly?” Mammon teased against you. The vibrations from him talking shook your body, earning a whine from you. “I’ll take that as a yes” Mammon chuckled as he licked up your opening. His tongue flicked against your clit, shooting a shock of pleasure up your body. “Is that so bad?” you managed to say as you pouted at him. The sight of him between your legs was nearly enough to make you cum right there and then. “Nah, I think it’s sexy as hell” he laughed as his hands grabbed your thighs. He moved them apart more so he could eat you out properly. You felt his tongue slip between your folds and enter you. Somehow, it had gone deep enough to make your toes curl. “Mammon!” you hissed. But he didn’t stop, bringing his hand to your clit and squeezing the bud. Without warning, you came on his face. He lapped hungrily at your cum as it splattered over his nose and down his chin. When he pulled away, his face was shiny with your fluids. “Mmmm~ You taste as good as I thought you would,” he said proudly. You covered your face and turned away from him, that was just too embarrassing! Mammon grabbed your hands and moved them away from your face. “Hey, no covering that up. It’s my favorite part” he grinned at you. Before you could say a witty retort, you felt something move against your thigh. Mammon’s cock was resting between your legs, seemingly alive after seeing your flushed expression. “I can tell, you already got hard just from looking at me” you managed to say back. “Bah, who wouldn’t when they are dealing with a beauty like you” Mammon blushed and hid his face into your neck. His hips began to rut against yours, running his erection against your opening. There was something oddly romantic about it, he was moving slowly as if he wanted to take his time. “You can put it in you know, I am ready” you said quietly as you held onto him tightly.

Mammon lifted himself just enough to look into your eyes. “Okay, here goes” he warned. He held eye contact with you as he pushed inside. The two of you flinched, moaning as you were wrapped in each other's heat. Mammon let out a groan when he was fully in, finishing with a sharp thrust. “A-Ah! Each time feels like the first with you” he muttered under his breath. You grabbed onto the cushion under you as he began to move. Each thrust was powerful, sending your body moving upward on the couch. “S-Slow down, I’m not going anywhere” you said as Mammon began to speed up. You’re too sexy right now” Mammon apologized. It must have been the idea of fucking in Diavolo’s garden where anyone could find you that was making Mammon hornier about it. His grip on your thighs was nearly painful, his nails leaving red marks in their wake as if to mark you. He leaned himself closer, allowing his cock to delve deeper into you. “Aw fuck, I forgot the condom” he groaned as he realized his cock was bare. “It’s fine, I don’t care about that right now” you gasped when he hit your favorite spot. You moaned out his name as Mammon made sure to hit that same spot over and over again. “Really? It’s okay if I do it inside?” he asked almost too eagerly. You nodded, feeling his cock somehow get bigger. “Alright!” Mammon cheered as he gave a sharp thrust into you. You gasped as the wind was knocked from you. Mammon continued to slam into you with reckless abandon, eager to feel you cum around his cock. “I’ll make sure to fill you up nice and good!” he groaned as he was reaching his orgasm. “Yes, fill me up with your cum!” you cried before you came. Your walls clamped down around Mammon, pushing him over the edge. Mammon came with a loud guttural groan. You could feel your insides fill with his warmth, some of it overflowing and leaking out from around his cock. The sound of dripping reached your ears and you felt his cum trickle under you. “Mammon! The cushion!” you warned him. But the demon fell onto your chest and nuzzled against you. “Eh, I don’t care about that right now” he said with a big grin. You sighed, patting his head affectionately. Hopefully, Barbatos wouldn’t mention it when he eventually had to clean them. “But we really should move before Lucifer comes looking for us” you warned. The mention of the older brother had Mammon rising to his feet. But the feeling of him pulling out stopped him. “Ahh, it feels too good to leave though!” he groaned. But you helped by pushing him by the chest. Once Mammon’s cock was free, his cum began to pour out of you. He hastily cleaned up your lower half with his tie, hoping not to leave a noticeable mess. As the two of you began to dress,  you couldn’t help but smile at Mammon. “Thank you” you said softly. “Huh? For what?” Mammon asked. “Oh, for the sex I guess” you didn’t realize you had said that aloud. You had originally meant to only say that in your head as thanks to whatever power had given you this chance. “Hey, this isn’t some hook up you know” Mammon pouted as he approached you. He raised your hand, the same hand he had kissed when he made the pact with you. “I did that because I like you ya know? And it’s not because of the pact either” he blushed as he spoke to you. His eyes flickered around the gazebo before meeting yours. “I love you ____,” he said softly. Your heart began to swell at his words, making tears prick at your eyes. “H-Hey! Don’t cry!” Mammon was startled as tears began to roll down your cheeks. “They are happy tears! I love you too Mammon!” you cried out as you hugged him tightly. You nuzzled your face into his chest affectionately, taking in the scent of him.

 Mammon wrapped his arms around you, holding you close. “Oh, then I’m glad!” he replied to you. Neither of you noticed the approaching Asmodeus, smiling brightly. “Oh my~ Am I interrupting something?” he asked loudly. Both you and Mammon gave him a tired look. “Uh yeah! Get out of here Asmo!” Mammon yelled at his brother. But Asmodeus stopped and sniffed the air. “Oh, I know that smell. You two had sex didn’t you? And without me? Scandalous!” Asmodeus feigned offense despite smiling. “Hey! Don’t say that so loudly!” Mammon tried to quiet his brother. If Asmodeus was here, Lucifer and the rest could be nearby. “Uh-huh, you don’t want me to say you two had sex?” Asmodeus continued to talk out loud. By now, Mammon was trying to cover his mouth. “Yes dammit! I’ll do anything!” he begged his brother. “Hmm, in that case have a bath with me later” Asmodeus winked as he walked off. “Ugh, whatever” Mammon grimaced at the idea but relaxed as his brother had left. In seconds, he was back with his arms wrapped around you. “Ugh, way to ruin the mood” Mammon muttered into your hair as he kissed your forehead. “Haha, it’s okay. We should be heading back anyways” you laughed it off as you began to walk back to the party. As the two of you returned, the rest of the guests were already leaving. Asmodeus was humming to himself while giving you a knowing look. Beelzebub looked a bit taken back but didn’t say anything. In his arms was a sleepy Belphegor, latching onto him like a child. “Ew, it’s stupidmammon” Levithan said as he covered his face. “Nobody asked you” Mammon shot back with a glare. But when Levithan looked at you, he blushed. “Ugh! You normies would do something like that!” he shouted as he ran to the car. Satan gave you one look before shaking his head. “____, you could do so much better” he said before leaving the two of you. “What is that supposed to mean?!” Mammon growled. But he didn’t have much time to dwell on it as Lucifer approached you both. His eyes went wide as he looked at you. Then a hard glare set on his face and he looked at Mammon. “I hope you behaved yourself Mammon” he said in a warning tone. “Huh? I was! I didn’t do anything!” Mammon defended. “Oh? Care to explain how ____ got that bite mark?” Lucifer asked with a smirk. You reached up and felt the spot on your neck where Mammon had bit on. The skin was still tender there, he had given you a hickey. “Oh…” you felt a blush bloom on your face. “Uh, I was hungry?” Mammon tried. But Lucifer didn’t look any more convinced. “I’ll see you later, ___, it’s time to go,” Lucifer said as nicely as he could right now. The ride back to the House of Lamentation was quiet on several accounts, mostly because of the hickey. It didn’t help Asmodeus was humming a tune to himself and casually dropping the word sex now and then.

 Once the car had stopped, everyone had staggered out, ready to retire to their rooms. Belphegor had woken up and was the only one not sleepy. Leviathan was busy updating his statuses and chatting with his gaming buddies. Asmodeus was already listing off his night routine and Beelzebub had made a beeline for the kitchen. Satan and Lucifer were ahead of the group, ready to wind down alone. Mammon had kept from clinging onto you, much to your surprise. He didn’t say a word as the two of you entered the house. Seeing you off at the stairs, Mammon began heading to his room. You told him goodnight before climbing the stairs to your room. Before you could shut the door, a foot caught between the gap in the doorway. “Mammon?” you called out to him as he slipped into your room. “Let me stay the night! Please!” he dropped onto his knees and began begging you. “Is it because of Lucifer?” you asked. “Yes! I know he is gonna do something! Let me stay the night please?” Mammon repeated his plea to you. A giggle escaped you before you hugged him to your body. “Of course, you can share the bed with me” you agreed. Mammon rose to his feet and hugged you back. “Thanks ____! I love you!” he cheered. “Uh-huh, you already told me” you said playfully as you guided him to the bed. “I’ll say it as many times as you need me to” Mammon grinned as he dropped onto the cushion next to you. He pulled you into his arms and kissed your face. “I love you so much,” he said softly. Sleep began to take you both as tonight had been eventful. “I love you too silly” you murmured into his chest. But Mammon barely heard it as he enveloped your scent and dozed off.

[artificialqueens]

Galactica, Chapter 22 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Thank you for being patient with our slower posting schedule. We love you so much and we’re so grateful for any feedback! Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Last Chapter: Everyone survived the Galactica runway show.  

This Chapter: Time for the afterparty! (And after-afterparty, in the case of one couple.)

***

“The Grand Hotel, please.”

“Right away ma’am.”

Katya checked her bag, just to make sure that she had the paper invitation to the Galactica afterparty that Trixie had given her. The Galactica parties were legendary and Trixie’s phone had been ringing off the hook since Pearl had announced on her twitter that the location had been booked.

Galactica had rented out the entire hotel for the party, and they had even booked a selected amount of hotel rooms for VIP guests if anyone ended up partying too hard. By the time that Katya’s taxi pulled up to the curb of the hotel, the paparazzi was there, their flashes and cameras going off again and again as they took pictures of the designers, bloggers, socialites, models and fashion editors who were arriving. Katya took a deep breath, but thankfully no one noticed her.

“Hey sugarbutt.” Trixie smiled brightly as he spotted Katya making her way towards him. She was beautiful as always, but tonight it was like she was glowing, a sight for sore eyes after Trixie had spent three days looking at angry, moody models who never smiled.

The two kissed, and Trixie held out a glass for Katya.

“It’s sparkling cider. Violet found one in the exact same shade as the champagne.” Katya smiled, thankful for the fact that she wouldn’t have to explain herself all night.

“She thinks of everything, doesn’t she?”

“It’s almost freaky.”

Katya giggled and took a small sip of her drink, before flagging down a waiter who was carrying around a tray of canapés.

“So how has your day been?” Trixie had found a bench for them to sit at, so he was now tucked into Katya’s side, occasionally getting a bite or two from the food Katya had collected along with sips of her drink which Trixie liked a lot more than the champagne he had gotten himself.

“Pretty good. One of the kids offered me a cigarette from his locker stash, and said he had more if I agreed to go on a date with him behind the bike shed. Unfortunately he was seven, so I had to confiscate everything; imagine the great romance I killed.” Katya laughed and gave Trixie one of the salmon hors d'oeuvres from her plate.

“Yekaterina Petrovna Zamolodchikova, destroyer of hearts.”

***

Courtney stood with Adore and Tati, telling them all about her encounter that morning with Willam. She still didn’t know quite what to make of the boy. It wasn’t the first time she’d been on the receiving end of such eager advances, but there was something a bit off about it. Courtney couldn’t exactly put her finger on it.

“I mean, the roses were really sweet, you know?” she said. “And anyone who likes Sólseturstríðsmenn has to be at least a little awesome, right?”

“Totally!” Adore enthused.

“Eh, I don’t know.” Tati sipped her cocktail. “He sounds pretty creepy to me.”

“He doesn’t feel creepy. Just a bit…” Courtney searched for the right word, but found herself at a loss. “He’s just really different from all the guys I’ve dated before. But like, considering my history, maybe that’s a good thing.”

“I’ll say! Remember we used to call you the Douche Magnet?” Adore laughed.

“Yeah, I loved that,” Courtney told her, grimacing. “And one date can’t hurt, right?”

“Carpe diem, bitch!” Adore agreed, then began waving excitedly to someone over Courtney’s shoulder. “B!”

Courtney turned to see Adore’s sister, Bianca, approaching them. She’d only met Bianca twice before, but of course she knew all about her: how she was one of the most powerful women in New York, how she took care of Adore, basically like a second mother. And how, in spite of being siblings, she was as unlike Adore as night and day.

Adore was tall and lanky, with an easy laugh and charmingly youthful demeanor. She managed to look cool with randomly thrown-together outfits and messy hair that told the world she didn’t give a fuck.

Bianca, on the other hand, couldn’t have been more of a perfectionist. Every detail of her appearance was intentional, from her elaborate updo with not a hair out of place, to the pressed seams on her perfectly tailored designer clothes, the blue dress she was wearing today fitting her like a glove, hugging every curve--another difference from Adore. As she wrapped her arm around her little sister’s waist, Courtney saw clearly just how different they looked, Bianca smaller and curvier, with rounded hips, a tiny waist, and a bigger chest than Adore’s. Much bigger, Courtney couldn’t help but notice, accentuated by her low neckline.

It wasn’t until Adore spoke next that Courtney caught herself staring, a blush rising to her cheeks as she looked up quickly to Bianca’s face, brown eyes staring directly into hers, dimples appearing in her cheeks as she smiled.

“B, you remember my friends, Tatianna…”

Tati grinned, sticking out her hand, thrilled to be meeting the famous editor-in-chief.

“Hi! Omigod, it’s such an honor to finally meet you-”

“Yeah, hi,” Bianca said, giving her a cursory pat on the shoulder, her eyes never leaving Courtney’s.

“...and Courtney.”

“Hey.” Courtney managed a smile in spite of her painfully hot cheeks, praying that she didn’t embarrass herself in front of this important woman.  

“Hi there. I hear you’re working at Galactica,” Bianca said.

“Yeah, about a month now.”

“Impressive.”

“Thank you.” A thrill rippled down Courtney’s spine. That was the first time anyone who meant anything had implied that what she was doing was something to be proud of. Knowing that she’d made even the slightest impression on Bianca made her feel invincible.  

“You’re in Fame’s office, right?” Bianca’s head cocked slightly to the side, and Courtney felt a little bit of that familiar dread creep into her stomach, praying that she didn’t seem anything other than grateful to be working for Miss Fame.

“Yes. I’m her second assistant.” She forced another smile.  

“In that case, I think we better get you a stronger drink,” Bianca said, with a conspiratorial wink and another flash of those dimples.

Courtney bit her lip. The light shade at her boss made her feel special, almost like they had a secret between them. Bianca was one of Fame’s best friends, but unlike Adore, she was also a work colleague. So it made sense that she had a bit more insight into the way she ran her office. Of course, if Courtney agreed too enthusiastically, there was a chance that she’d ruin this very tentative new alliance, so instead she just giggled charmingly and shook her head.

“That’s okay. I’m still technically on the clock, and I have to work tomorrow, so...better stick with this thimbleful of champagne.” She held up her glass, lashes fluttering.  

“Very responsible,” Bianca said, then turned to Adore and asked, “How is she your friend?”  

“Opposites attract?” Adore guessed.

“Humanity is a rich tapestry,” Courtney added, taking a delicate sip of her champagne as Bianca cackled gleefully.

“That it is.” She held Courtney’s gaze for a few more moments, before noticing someone nearby flagging her and sighing slightly, turning to Adore with an eye roll. “I guess I better go work the room some more. We still on for Saturday?” she asked, giving Adore another squeeze.

“If you’re paying, I’m there!” Adore agreed cheerfully, accepting a kiss on the cheek.

“Perfect.” Bianca turned back to Courtney. “Nice seeing you again.”

“Yeah, you too,” Courtney said, swallowing. All this focused attention was making her feel a bit lightheaded.

“Bye kiddos, have fun. But not too much!”

“No promises!” called Adore.

“Byee,” Courtney breathed, watching her leave, a strangely wistful feeling curling in her stomach. She took another sip of her drink, wondering what it was she was feeling...she supposed it was mostly envy, which made her a bit ashamed. As much as she loved her best friend, she had to admit that right now, she couldn’t help but be jealous that she had Bianca in her life, a constant and reassuring presence supporting everything she did. After all, how different would Courtney’s life be if her brother had even a tenth of the influence or respect (or money) that Bianca had? She shook the thought out of her mind, sighing slightly. It was no use wishing for something that wasn’t possible.

She was so buried in her own thoughts that she completely missed the pointed look that Adore and Tati exchanged over her head, nodding distractedly when Tati announced that she was getting another drink.

***

The party was going well. Very well. Violet was leaning against a wall, an empty and clean champagne glass in her hand. She had nicked it from one of the party planners, the women out mingling with the party guests, the only thing singling them out the clear plastic earpieces all of them wore.

Violet was keeping an eye on Fame, her boss looking like a vision in white. On anyone else, it would have looked bridal, but Fame always managed to carry herself with grace, wisdom and dignity like an aura around her.

Violet felt a presence besides her, someone sliding in right next to her, the scent of tobacco and cedarwood catching her nose.

“Hello lovely eyes.”

“Hey,” Violet turned her head, unable to help the smile blooming on her lips, and the sense of pride that settled in the bottom of her stomach.

He leaned in for a kiss, and even though Violet hesitated for just a second, she couldn’t resist the siren call, the fact that she was in public be damned.

“Mmh-” Sutan broke their kiss, a smirk on his lips. Violet smiled, and turned her head. “You look gorgeous.”

Violet had gotten dressed in the bathroom, changing from her daytime look and into something appropriate for a night out. It had been a bit of a struggle, but she had managed, her hair twirled into a French twist that she hoped suited the soft lilac of her dress.

“I could say the same to you.” The praise was an absolute understatement, Sutan looking downright hot in a perfectly fitted suit, an ochre shirt causing his skin to practically glow.

“So-” Sutan leaned back against the wall, apparently more than content to hang out on the edge of the party, no one looking their way. “Have you had a good day?”

Viole wasn’t sure if it was good, trying to predict Fame’s mood when she was outside of the office even harder than normal, but it was Fashion Week, and that meant she could withstand any challenge.

“Yeah, and you?”

“No major emergencies.” Sutan pushed a gentle elbow into her side, and Violet could see the smile on his face. He was obviously teasing her, mischief in his eyes, but Violet also knew how fast things could go sour when models were involved, the girl who had torn a dress thankfully not one of Sutan’s hires.

“Really all we can aim for.”

Sutan chuckled, and Violet felt that heat return, her stomach doing a pleasant flop.

“Can I get you a drink?” Sutan nodded to Violet’s empty glass. She shot a quick glance at Fame, her boss completely caught up in conversation, a bright smile on her face, Patrick at her side, and Violet decided to take the chance, to actually give in to Sutan’s temptations for once.

“I’d like that.”

***

“Well, we’ve done it again!” Raja exclaimed, one arm tight around Raven’s waist as she toasted her friends.

“Cheers!” Raven cried, clinging to her fiancée as everyone clinked their glasses, her hair still smelling like the spray the makeup team always preferred.

It had taken forever to get everyone together in the bar, to take a moment with her nearest and dearest, but as Raja looked around, the hassle had been absolutely worth it.

“Cheers indeed.” Fame giggled, already adorably tipsy on champagne and adrenaline.  “Thank you so much for all of your support...”

Raja took a moment, a little afraid that Fame would start crying, finishing a collection always exhausting her, but she didn’t have to worry.

“Like we have a choice, Blondie,” Bianca joked as she joined the group, tugging lightly on Fame’s hair.

“On a personal note, I’m a little sad that no models fell off the runway or tripped on their hems where we could see them,” said Detox, earning some side-eye from his wife, Juju giving him that warning look before he quickly added, “But I’m super proud of you. Great show.”

Raja smiled, looking around at her friend’s gorgeous faces, before realizing that her brother was nowhere to be found.

Where was Sutan?

***

“Nh-” Violet bit her lip, swallowing a moan as Sutan placed a kiss against her neck, his stumble scratching her in the most delicious way.

She hadn’t seen Sutan all week, his touch just as good as she remembered it, the temptation to fall into him and disappear almost too great to withstand.

If you asked Violet how she had ended up tucked away in a dark corner on the building's patio, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to answer. Sutan had asked if she wanted to go outside, his hand in hers before she had made up her mind. There were people up there, the faint sound of chatter almost reaching her ears, but it didn’t feel like it mattered, Violet completely lost to the world.

“Ah” Violet gasped, her fingers desperately tightening, grabbing the fabric of Sutan’s jacket. “Please-”

“Mmh?”

Violet could practically feel the smirk, Sutan humming against her skin.

“Feels good?”

It felt good, very, very good.

Violet was practically in a daze, Sutan’s touch so very pleasant, but then, she felt fingers on her neck, fingertips brushing her skin as Sutan reached up, up, up.

“No-” Violet grabbed Sutan’s wrist, stopping him inches from her head. “Don’t touch my hair.”

There was still a chance she’d have to be presentable, still a risk Fame would call on her. She had reacted without thinking, Sutan looking at her, and for a minute, Violet worried if he would get mad, but then, he chuckled, his face breaking into a smile.

“Of course, lovely eyes.”

***

Pearl strolled through the party, wondering how much longer she had to walk around engaging in small talk and sipping on weak cocktails before she could leave. One of her friends had tweeted about a new club in Queens and she was hoping to check it out, but she really wanted to go home and change first.

Pearl knew she looked good in her skin tight black dress, but she knew that she’d look even better in the slutty cropped number she had at home.

She glanced at the exit.

Would Fame get upset if she left? She had made an appearance, so what more could she be expected to do?

Pearl made her way towards the door, giving the cursory smiles and waves as she went, when someone caught her eye. Adore Delano was standing with a couple of girls at a cocktail table, gazing at her longingly, cheeks immediately turning a deep red when Pearl gave her a smile in return.

When Pearl first met Adore, she’d seemed so young, and it was easy to dismiss her as a sweet kid. Sure, she flirted harmlessly with her, but nothing ever went beyond that. But the way she was eyeing her up at the moment, Pearl couldn’t help thinking what a fun little adventure she’d be. For all her bravado and tough girl front, Pearl had a sneaking suspicion that she could quite easily be reduced to a whimpering, needy mess.

She approached the group, slipping in beside Adore to say hello.

“Hi, Pearl!” Courtney said cheerfully.

“Hey, Courtney.” Pearl could feel Adore shift beside her, but decided to hold off on giving her any attention for a moment, concentrating on her friend. “People are totally obsessed with that picture of you from Monday.”

“Really?!” Courtney squealed, her eyes lighting up.

“It was cute,” Pearl said, amused by how easily excitable her young coworker was. “We should do it again some time.”

Courtney’s mouth dropped open.

“Sure!” she said.

Pearl then shifted her gaze to Adore, touching her wrist lightly.

“Hi, Adore.”

“Hiii,” Adore breathed. “Um...can I buy you a drink?”

“It’s an open bar,” Courtney pointed out, and Adore elbowed her in the ribs. Seeming to catch on to the situation, Courtney cleared her throat and grabbed the hand of their other friend, saying, “You know what? I need to go introduce Tati to...uh...Max!”

She yanked the girl away, leaving Pearl alone with Adore, fingers still lingering on her wrist.

“So, um…” Adore swallowed. “Drink?”

“I have a better idea,” Pearl said, leaning in close to say, “My friend just told me about a party in Queens, and I was gonna head there now. Wanna join?”

Adore nodded, hypnotized. She threw back the rest of her drink and slung her mini-backpack over her shoulder.

“Thanks for the invite,” she said, lashes fluttering.

Pearl grinned, telling her, “You can thank me later,” and tossing in a wink for good measure.

Adore opened her mouth, but nothing came out except the cutest little sigh. Oh yeah. She was going to be fun.

***

“Max!”

Max turned around, a plate of finger foods in hand. He spotted Courtney, the girl bouncing as she came towards him, her blonde hair now a candy floss pink.

“Hello Courtney.”

“This is my friend-” Courtney pulled someone forward, “Tatianna Santolini. She’s a model.”

Max wasn’t surprised in the least. Tatianna was the perfect height, slim, but not unhealthy, the slight muscles in her arms promising a hidden strength. Her skin was a wonderful caramel, her eyes a lovely hazel.

“Courtney!” Tatianna pushed her friend, a smile on her lips, and Max saw that her teeth checked out too, her smile bright and perfectly in place. “I’m not a model.”

“You’re not?” Max was confused, a girl that was that pretty and apparently also humble in Manhattan a rare occurrence.

“Yet!” Courtney held up a finger. “She just moved here.”

“Ah.” That made a lot more sense. “Do you have any potentials?”

“Potentials?” Tatianna looked like she didn’t understand him, and Max realised that she was really and truly not a model.

“Know what?” Max looked at her. “Let me take your picture. I know someone who’d be very interested.”

***

Adore was in absolute heaven, pressed up against Pearl on the dance floor, the crush of bodies around them forcing them to stay close. They’d taken some Molly when they arrived, and were now blissfully rolling, the electricity of the music pumping through Adore’s blood.

Pearl’s breath against her cheek felt amazing, and Adore rubbed against her, face seeking out the warmth of her neck. When they finally kissed, Adore thought she might swoon, her entire body tingling with pleasure.

“You’re so fucking hot…” Adore said, and Pearl laughed, taking Adore’s face in her hands and looking her up and down.

“Look who’s talking,” said Pearl, and Adore pressed in closer, feeling her knees start to buckle.

What little that remained of Adore’s self-control had dissolved by now, and she gripped Pearl’s waist tightly, hips rutting against her.

“I need you,” she whimpered.

Pearl smiled--a slow, lazy smirk spreading across her face like the cat that caught the canary. “Oh yeah? Then I guess we should get out of here…”

***

Fame bit her lip. Her feet ached, her dress was uncomfortable, her hairstyle hurt and even though she was tipsy, she was cold.

The only thing that made the wait bearable was the fact that Patrick was with her, both Violet and Courtney gone when Fame had felt ready to call for a car.

The Galactica party had gone well, the night living up to her expectations, but Fame was tired, and she wanted to go home.

“Uh! Taxi-” Fame held out her hand, but the yellow car went right by her, causing her to swear loudly.

Before she had realized what she was doing, her Louboutin was already off, Fame’s brain more than ready to throw the shoe after the car, but Patrick wrapped his arms around her.

“Hey, hey, calm down.” Patrick laughed and took the shoe from her. Fame blushed, holding onto Patrick so her stocking wouldn’t get soiled on the pavement. “We’ll get the next one.”

***

The way Adore’s breath hitched in her throat as Pearl leaned in to kiss her neck was adorable.

Adore was all puffy lips, heavy eyes and the most buttery soft skin Pearl had felt in a long time. What began as a fun little experiment--how quickly could she reduce her to a whimpering mess--quickly became an even more exciting challenge.

How long could she keep her on the edge, clawing desperately at Pearl’s shoulders, moaning in blissful agony? The way she begged shamelessly, dripping wet all over Pearl’s fingers, was so sexy that Pearl could have come herself.

“Please, please, Pearl…”

Pearl silenced her with a kiss, biting gently on her perfect upper lip, tongue teasing her mouth open.

“Careful, baby...don’t come until I say so.”

Pearl’s fingers slowed, thumb first brushing lightly against her clit, then pressing down on it, making her cry out, hips desperately rocking back onto Pearl’s hand.

“Please, oh God, please.”

“Not yet.”

Pearl smiled and twisted her fingers, working even faster.

Adore was gasping now, little tits bouncing with each breath, purple hair fanned out over the pillow, skin glistening with sweat, and it made Pearl want to lick her all over.

“Hold on, honey,” she whispered into Adore’s neck, “Just a bit longer. You can do it for me.”

Pearl laughed as Adore whined; she loved the power she had when a girl was breaking apart in her hands, even if her arm was cramping and her jaw ached from the two orgasms she had already wrung out of her. Pearl might not be a saint, but she never left a girl unsatisfied.

Adore, bless her, was not going to last much longer. She was tense and rolling her hips to meet every thrust of Pearl’s hand. Her nails raked down Pearl’s back, fingers digging into her ass, panting. As Pearl looked into her desperate, unfocused eyes, she decided to have mercy on her.

“Okay.”

Pearl curled her fingers forward, stroking her g spot, thumb rubbing her clit in vigorous circles.

Adore groaned as she came, hips pumping frantically before slumping against her, still gasping for air.

Pearl eased her fingers out, stroking her gently as she came down, finding the bruises she’d left on her neck and licking them softly.

“Good girl,” she said, chuckling against her skin, damp with sweat.

“Fuuuuuck…” Adore sighed, and Pearl laughed some more, nuzzling into her neck.

Not normally much of a cuddler, Pearl would usually leave right after fucking a girl, but there was something charming about the way Adore immediately wrapped her long arms and legs around Pearl’s body. As she tangled their limbs together, her purple hair tickling Pearl’s nose, Pearl found herself relaxing into the younger girl’s soft flannel sheets. One night wouldn’t kill her.

[hellzyeahwebwielingessays]

The Not-So-Amazing Mary Jane Part 34: AMJ #6.1

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Master Post

You know I considered ending this series after the initial arc. I may well discontinue it after awhile. But for now at least I am going to press on. Thus begins the second of what I and dead certain will be a shitty arc of AMJ. Pray for me.

Before we dive into the issue I want to quote for you the solicit for this issue:

WELCOME TO NY, MJ! After the CAN’T-MISS events of AMAZING MARY JANE #5, your favorite redhead is back home! First stop: Spider-Man! But has her relationship with Mysterio changed things with the love of her life? Next stop: a press tour! Complete with iconic New York guest-starring gigs, and OH NO WHAT’S THAT?!?

We spent over 10 years of seeing Peter and MJ separated in the 616 universe.

Thanks to Nick Spencer they blessedly got back together.

Across 25 issues we got to see Peter and MJ interact and 99% of the time it was awesome and helped some old and open wounds get a little better.

It wasn’t every issue, but that was good. Don’t want to get indulgent right?

Then this series came along and Peter/MJ interactions got limited again due to the nature of the story.

That was a shame but at least we were going to get a great MJ story right?

Except we didn’t. We got a story that paradoxically simultaneously celebrated MJ whilst also inadvertently character assassinating her and just being a disgusting fucking mess in general.

But here we have MJ back in New York where Spider-Man is. This issue is even promising us an interaction between them.

Sounds good right?

Let’s see if it will deliver.

As always here we get the recap.

And once more it gives us the full title of the movie in spite of the comic yet to have done that.

As for the ‘strength of his vision blah blah blah’, you know the drill by now. That’s all bullshit, Mary Jane would never connect to Beck over that or allow him to walk free because of that.

There is also a passage in the recap claiming that MJ connected to Beck over familiarity with his situation. The idea of this being their last chance to make it big. I’ve already talked about how that’s bullshit, see part 12.

Finally, the recap confirms that MJ has still failed to tell Peter the truth. Nice to know MJ will continue to be hardcore out of character moving forward into this new arc.

As the issue starts we see MJ introduced as a guest on some kind of chat show.

As has been the case throughout the series, the art is (stylistically at least) gorgeous.

Beyond that there is little to about this page. Except of course the fact that Mary Jane has thought captions.

Let me repeat that.

For the first time in six  issues the readers are being given an insight into the thoughts of title character!

You know, if this were a brand new run, a re-launch or even say the beginning of an outright new era for a series maybe that’d be okay.

But it isn’t. It’s the same run, the same volume, the same story, merely the next arc. This is like if Nick Spencer hadn’t used thought captions throughout the first five issues of his ASM run but then randomly did for the Trivia Night storyline with Boomerang.

Thought captions are perhaps one of the single most potent weapons in the arsenal of a comic book writer. It allows for immense development of characters and enables writers to combine the strength of prose stories with those of more visual mediums.

Now, it’s not that it’s bad to simply not use them. But be consistent. Thought captions would’ve gone a long way in helping us understand Mary Jane better in the first arc along with elaborating upon her asinine decisions there.

Not to mention for a character so often written off as shallow or just eye candy wouldn’t an insight into her thoughts have helped dispel such accusations? Jed Mackay has been doing that pretty consistently since the first issue of his Black Cat run. There it has done wonders for Felicia and fleshed her out more.

It’s especially bad when we consider we got more of an insight into MJ’s thoughts and feelings in one issue  of Nick Spencer’s ASM run than in the entire five prior issues of her solo title.

Anyway, as her interview with Reilly Redding begins there is some quips and verbal jousting going on. Reilly asks if the movie has wrapped but MJ explains that McKnight and the crew are still shooting in L.A. Reilly asks if MJ is sure about that.

This isn’t a positive, more a general observation. I’m not overly familiar with chat shows, let alone American ones, but to my eyes the host seems influenced by Ellen DeGeneres.

Anyway, let me dispense with the pettiest of gripes first. I hate Reilly’s hairstyle. I hate that hairstyle in general. To me it looks really stupid, like you went for a haircut but gave up halfway through. That’s not in anyway shape or form a fair criticism. I totally own that. It is just a tiny point that really bothers me personally.

On the more positive side, Williams continues her frustrating tendency to nail  MJ’s personality traits within a problematic context. MJ’s social skills are one of her greatest powers and here her charisma and ability to play verbal tennis with Reilly is executed superlatively. When Williams does stuff like this she delivers some of the best Mary Jane writing in a long time. Which is why I hate saying and believing that she shouldn’t work on the character over all. She makes traits of MJ shine whilst nevertheless damaging the character over all.

Case in point, the movie is still filming right? And the Vulture (and probably the other members of the Savage Six) are still out there. Let’s be kind and presume they are in a new secret location. That means Vulture will still want to find out where they are, so all the people (and their families) from issue #4 are still going to be harassed by the Vulture’s paparazzi gang and potentially threatened by the six themselves.

Oh well, MJ still DGAF I guess.

Guess she doesn’t care that she’s appearing in public (in NYC of all places!) in spite of six villains now holding a very direct grudge against her.

Also, we FINALLY get the full name of the movie in the story itself, not the recap pages.

As the interview continues, MJ takes questions from the audience. One man asks what it’s like for her to play a real hero for the first time considering she’s played normal female roles before.

MJ responds that they are all heroes to her. She doesn’t really make the female role distinction quite the same way either. It’s more like she plays a hero who is also a woman.

The next question is about the weird press speculation about Cage McKnight’s conduct. The woman asking the question wants to know what he’s really like. MJ responds that he’s great, just dedicated to the craft and protective of his crew. She points out the paparazzi didn’t take kindly to him because he in turn didn’t take kindly to them hounding the movie.

Reilly then reveals McKnight is here for the interview.

Once more, Williams (with a huge help from Gomez’s art) conveys the charisma and social savvy of MJ here. Gomez’s body language demands particular praise. He conveys MJ’s beauty, flirtation, charm, etc. And he does it on multiple levels. The subtle genius of this page is how Gomez captures MJ putting on a performance for the public, to convince them she’s being utterly genuine and casual.

As for the dialogue, the best faith interpretation of the man’s question, he meant MJ has never played a super hero before, just normal non-powered women. He didn’t mean stereotypical female roles. That interpretation makes MJ’s response make more sense than if the former was the intent. So I’ll give Williams a pass and presume that was in fact her intent.

As for the second question it further highlights the unethical nature of allowing Mysterio to impersonate McKnight. The real McKnight has a lot of gossip and a new public image that was not of his own making. It wasn’t even an unfair fabrication by the press, it existed specifically because someone else was using his name, face and reputation for personal gain.

Also the audacity of Williams to directly reference issue #4 where Ken was harassed by the Vulture’s paparazzi squad but just ignore the fact that that should still be going on.

To MJ’s confusion Cage McKnight joins the interview. However, he doesn’t seem to know anything about the movie at all. He says the first he heard of the movie was when he was contacted for the interview. Meanwhile MJ frantically contacts Beck on her phone. Reilly notices and calls MJ out just before Beck confirms he’s still in L.A.

To MJ’s horror she realizes she’s sitting next to the real Cage McKnight who’s returned from his penguin expedition. Reilly asks why he came on the show if he doesn’t remember movie. Cage responds that just because he doesn’t remember making the movie doesn’t mean he didn’t. he explains that in the past he’s made movies in ‘artistic fugues’ and presumes this is just one such time.

*pinches bridge of nose*

Oh my Gooooooooood this is so dumb.

I get the desire to have humour in a story for the sake of levity. But the world of Spider-Man is not even remotely a borderline Deadpool or Harley Quinn or Lobo comic book. The humour doesn’t come from absurdity or a cartoonlike breaking of logic and reality.

And make no mistake, this is absurd. Scratch that, it’s contrived to the nth degree.

First of all I’m not that well read up on fugue states so I briefly consulted Wikipedia who had this to say:

Dissociative fugue, formerly fugue state or psychogenic fugue, is a dissociative disorder[1] and a rare psychiatric disorder characterized by reversible amnesia for personal identity, including the memories, personality, and other identifying characteristics of individuality. The state can last days, months or longer. Dissociative fugue usually involves unplanned travel or wandering and is sometimes accompanied by the establishment of a new identity. It is a facet of dissociative amnesia, according to the fifth edition of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM-5).

-Wikipedia

Basically a fugue state is a sort of similar condition to Dissociative Identity Disorder, more commonly known as having a split personality. Only instead of an individual’s psyche fracturing into different personalities that take dominance, it’s someone’s mind running away with itself and becoming someone else. The individual forgets aspects of who they are and becomes someone else.

A very good example within fiction can be found in the Doctor Who episode ‘The Next Doctor’. In it a man named Jackson Lake suffers a traumatic experience and in the midst of it (through a sci-fi gizmo) absorbs a lot of information on the character of the Doctor. His traumatized mind consequently decides to imitate what it regards as the Doctor.

What I’m saying is McKnight’s dialogue about his fugues are very probably bullshit unless someone can cite evidence to the contrary. 

Using the above description though McKnight has gotten this rare  psychiatric disorder multiple times and specifically in conjunction with his job as a filmmaker. Yeah, no. Not buying it and neither should you.

Being a film director isn’t a muscle memory skill you can’t forget no matter what. People with amnesia or Alzheimer’s disease do not forget how to play the piano or how to drive. But directing a movie? There are so many moving pieces to that job that rely upon you knowing how equipment and more importantly individual people operate. You have to bear a shitton of theory in mind too. It is physically  impossible to repeatedly  have fugues and then maintain that job.

And even if it was, oh my lord, that is the single most contrived thing in this series yet. Are you SERIOUSLY telling me that Mary Jane and Beck and the entire production got this  lucky. The guy who’s reputation is what the movie is riding on happens  to be someone who repeatedly deals with this incredibly rare mental condition?

Holy shit. That’s Superior Spider-Man levels of contrived.

And yet if you still swallowed all of that it still wouldn’t make sense!

McKnight presumes he made this Mysterio movie in a fugue state right? But he wasn’t, so he would remember his life during that period of time. Meaning that there are lots of public records and personal accounts testifying that he was making the movie at the same time that he  knows he was observing penguins.

If you suffer amnesia or blackouts or DID then there are obviously gaps in time you cannot account for. The overwhelming majority of people who deal with those conditions make a point of keeping track of those gaps, for practical reasons if nothing else. So McKnight would know that there isn’t a gap in time he can’t account for and certainly not for the time period the Mysterio movie has been going for.

Shit, the movie is still  filming! How the Hell does he believe he is still making this movie in a fugue state if he’s consciously aware of lacking any knowledge about it?

Not to mention if he’s been in the Falkland Islands this whole time. A quick Google search informed me that by plane it’d take over 14 hours  to travel between the islands and Los Angeles. How the fuck is anyone supposed to ever commute that distance, let alone regularly. And McKnight sincerely believes he was doing both at the same goddam time?

You couldn’t even argue that McKnight believes he made the Mysterio movie before his penguin expedition. Because the movie is still being made and all his other ‘artistic fugues’ would have a movie as proof of what he was doing during the fugues.

This is just mind-numbingly stupid and lazy writing. It smacks so hard of Williams trying to desperately paper over the holes in her initial story.

More importantly, how fucking stupid is Mary Jane or Beck to never considered this possibility? I don’t mean the fugue bullshit, I mean the idea of McKnight just coming back  from his penguin adventure.

Was Mysterio honestly so incompetent as to have never accounted for that? He seriously never had anything in place to make sure McKnight wouldn’t just decide to cut his journey short? Jesus, and I was dumb enough to buy his line about McKnight spending a year with the penguins.

Even putting that aside, what the flying fuck was MJ and Beck’s plan for when he eventually  came back in the first place? Say he really did spend a year with the penguins then came back to the USA. Suddenly he has a movie with his name attached to it and lots of controversy. Let’s say McKnight’s fugue bullshit added up, there is no indication MJ or beck knew about them. So how the Hell were they planning on getting away with the obvious questions he or his friends or family would have had?

And if they did know about the fugues, why didn’t Williams address that before? That was kind of  a lingering question hanging over the story until now wasn’t it?

God I can’t believe I paid for this!

On the next page MJ spots a guy in an Oni Mask backstage. She presumes he’s there to scare her as part of the show. However, she notices that the P.A.s haven’t seen him. Meanwhile Reilly set up a stupid game for them to play.

I got nothing to say about this page beyond McKnight’s dialogue. Williams is clearly trying to frame the real McKnight in a less than sympathetic manner. There could be many reasons why. I suspect one of the reasons is to incline us more towards Beck’s version of McKnight and to make us not feel as bad about Beck (and MJ) exploiting his identity.

Because being vaguely and lightly sexist means you deserve to have your career, public image, sense of self and life violated and damaged I guess?????????????

As Reilly brings in people from the audience to compete against McKnight and MJ, the latter thinks that there is something weirdly familiar about the Oni-masked man.

I have little to say about this page too.

Reilly’s attitude and facial expressions make me dislike her, even beyond her stupid haircut.

And as for the Oni-Masked man (I’ll just call him Oni for now) my only guess is that he’s affiliated with Mister Negative somehow. He had his goons wear Oni masks at times. And MJ interacted with them and Mister Negative himself in the popular 2018 Spider-Man video game by Insomniac; and it’s adapted comic book City at War. As such perhaps Williams is trying to tie-in or capitalize upon audience familiarity with that.

As MJ plays the dumb game he ponders if Oni could be a lesser member of Peter’s rogue’s gallery. Observing him again she notices him murder a civilian.

The dumb game annoyed me, but that’s just me.

Beyond that all I can say is that MJ’s dialogue about Peter’s rogue’s gallery is interesting. It proves that MJ has at least a working knowledge of Peter’s major foes. Which just further proves she would have been familiar with Mysterio and his crimes, just in case anyone was still clinging to the idea that she wouldn’t.

Also, the art and especially that splash page were beautiful.

Unfortunately for MJ, Oni notices she witnessed his crime. MJ is nervous and backs away in fear, annoying McKnight when she bumps into him. Meanwhile Spider-Man swings across town yelling for to hold on as he is on the way.

Gomez draws a nice Spider-Man.

Anyway, more of Williams making us dislike McKnight, see above for more on that.

MJ backing away in fear has me apprehensive. I don’t know if that’s in character for her. I guess the shock and surprise could’ve thrown her for a loop. And if Oni doesn’t notice her then it gives her a better chance of raising the alarm and capturing him.

I must say, I do like MJ being on the backfoot here after issues #1-5 made her often overconfident and over capable at times (see her nonchalance over the Savage Six in issue #5).

Also, isn’t MJ going to give Oni the benefit of the doubt? Maybe he’s sorry for murdering that guy just now. Maybe he wants to make amends by creating a movie about his life. So why is MJ so scared?

Sure, he just murdered someone, but what is that next to the laundry list of Beck’s crimes?

As it turns out, Spidey wasn’t on his way to save MJ. He was in fact en route to a French restaurant to have dinner with her. He is actually before MJ for a change.

I know Gomez isn’t the only artist on this issue and this doesn’t look like his work. Who ever is drawing it though is doing a very bland depiction of Peter with a overly wrinkly forehead.

The joke about him arriving first for a change was funny though.

Back at the studio, the show wraps up. McKnight insults Reilly’s profession just in case you’ve not realised he is a jerk yet. MJ thinks about persuading everyone to evacuate and searches for her phone. She notices Oni leaving and decides to leave her phone behind.

I already know MJ is going to pursue Oni herself. The stupidity of that aside why the fuck wouldn’t you grab your phone before doing that? You could use it no matter where you wind up and it wasn’t so far away that he’d get that much of a head start.

In fact, if Oni knows MJ is a witness why did he bother hanging around in the first place.

And why didn’t MJ raise the alarm immediately, the worst that would happen is the guy would run away. He’s just stealthily murdered someone and is in a mask. He obviously isn’t going to take the audience hostage, so if her priority is protecting innocents then raising the alarm immediately (or in fact earlier would’ve been her best bet. Yes that’d probably mean he’d have escaped but unlike with say Peter’s origin, getting him the Hell out of there would’ve reduced the immediate threat to the civilians present.

And on top of that if she figures he’s targeting her because she was a witness to his crime then by alerting everyone to his actions she’d have removed his need (at least for the moment) of sticking around to eliminate her, thus getting him away from the audience.

If he’s leaving anyway, MJ could also just grab her phone and put a call in to Peter, her super hero chums or the police and get them on the case immediately. If she was really so determined to go after this guy herself she still could but would’ve had a back up just in case he escapes or kills her. If she fails then she’s insured someone will still pursue him.

And as I copiously detailed in parts 19-22, MJ is not a super hero (and she knows that). She has no idea what this guy’s skills, weapons or powers might be, nor does she know what resources or assistance will be nearby to enable her to survive or subdue him. This isn’t like an armed cop, a martial artist or a super powered person going after a regular crook. She really doesn’t know what she is in for. Even if he is just a normal man, he clearly has a height and weight advantage over her, is obviously willing and capable of chocking a man to death and is armed. MJ meanwhile has little self-defence training, no weapons and hasn’t got the weight or muscle capable of taking him on if she’s backed into a corner. And she’s pursuing him back stage where presumably there is a fair chance of encountering many corners!

I understand that she doesn’t want to endanger innocent people, but there is no point in risking her life there is a much more practical and likely to succeed option available to her. Live to fight another day and all that. Yes the guy might hurt people during or after his escape but that’s a lesser evil vs. going after him herself when she is very unlikely to subdue him, far more likely to die and then the guy will get away without her having passed on any valuable intel on him to someone more qualified to pursue him.

Also once she sees the guy leaving she could just tell everyone the situation and ask the audience to stay put.

Basically if raises the alarm right there on stage and/or calls Peter or the authorities she is over all putting less people in danger and increasing the chances of the guy being apprehended in the long run. But no, instead she is going to gamble on the far slimmer odds that she can capture the guy.

Not to mention, why would the guy even give a shit that MJ saw him? Why would MJ give a shit that she is a witness to his crime? He is wearing a mask! She couldn’t identify him even if she went to the police. It is literally part of the reason her goddam boyfriend wears a mask!

And by the way, are there no security cameras backstage? Wouldn’t MJ consider that or Oni himself?

McKnight apologises to Reilly (so not that much of a jerk I guess) as MJ pursues Oni (barefooted) backstage. As she does this she rehearses what she will say to Peter in her head. This entails telling him that she had to get away from the killer. As she is thinking about this the body of Oni’s victim is discovered. Backstage she comes face to face with Oni who refers to her by name.

Yay. MJ deliberately planning on lying to Peter again. It’s so awesome that Williams understands why this isn’t a really bad idea for the reasons I pointed out in part 17.

By the way, I suspect Oni knows MJ personally rather than just recognizing her work.

I’m actually going to leave it there for now as the next part of the story has a shitton to unpack.

Previous Part

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Master Post

[legionofpotatoes]

My assorted musings/theories about Control in one post!! I am having a lot of fun dissecting the implications of all the information we’re getting tiny peeks at. This WILL be a thought torrent so I won’t make any literary-essay-level structuring promises; click through at your own risk of losing sanity over my tangents.

So the base axiom the lore stands on is that reality in Control is shaped by the collective human subconscious in unpredictable ways, causing altered world events, subsequently creating altered items imbued with archetypal properties in correspondence with their historic context, and generally having things go way out of whack. 

But, as seen with the whole slide projector hubbub, we also know that other realities/dimensions exist in their own right and can, by virtue of their agenda, and not that of our thought, attempt to invade our reality through resonance-based means. Their motives can run the gamut but we know that their involvement/influence can have far-reaching consequences on our reality.

(there is an argument to be made that both the Hedron and the Hiss could have been extremely potent creations/projections of Jesse and Dylan’s minds altogether, especially since Polaris exists within one of them inherently, and that the slidescapes could simply have been an extension of the slide projector’s astral power still fully fed on human perceptions. But this theory sort-of runs everything else to the ground and makes us the center of the universe, and I don’t like that too much).

This is where the Oldest House comes in! And I love its deeply rooted historic/theological implications just as much as its impression at face value. I believe that since time immemorial, the Oldest House was a stabilizing element, a kind of ward against dimensional rifts threatening our reality. And it did that by presenting itself as a guide for human thought; a house of worship, a monument to service, whichever concept happened to elicit inherent respect and trust in that period of time, allowing the House to then control (ha) our thought through belief systems. Today, it’s a brutalist office building with no windows, which is, like, so on point. But anyway.

The Board. We know that it controls the Oldest House to an extent. Whether it represents the gods and deities we once made up is hard to tell, but its influence over the House’s functions is clear. We know that it had chosen individuals in the past to possibly represent the House’s intentions (today – the Directors of the FBC), giving them access to the Service Weapon and a direct link to the astral plane. I believe these would be our Thors and King Arthurs and Greek heroes and what have you. We KNOW that the Service Weapon is, by definition, the archetypal concept of “weapon” as shaped by human thought, and that the BFC suspects its past forms may have included Mjolnir and Excalibur among others. Today, it’s a handgun. Again, the implications. Delicious.

And I think the Oldest House is the same way; constantly shifting form, shape, and even geographical location to best fit its own archetypal concept, which I conflated with place of respect and/or worship up there, but even that can change to best fit the agenda of, what I think, is stabilizing and warding our reality against foreign resonances. It does this by presenting itself as a guidebook for human thought, tapping into our inherent astral potency, and utilizing resulting constructs – the Service Weapon, the anointed Director, and certain altered items – to serve its own upkeep. As directed by The Board.

(I believe that is also part of the reason why the FBC ended up discovering the House when it did – The Board allowed it per the alignment of the Bureau’s motives with its own. They both wanted to identify, neutralize, and contain AWEs both external and internal in order to keep the public – and by extension their thoughts – fully under control. I believe this had happened numerous times in the past, as well)

But to circle back – why does The House need upkeep at all? My guess is, it’s an extension of the initial agenda, and we KNOW it is inherently tied to (read: contains) thresholds, or dimensional rifts, or just other worlds. Let’s call them other worlds. The Oldest House is an ever-shifting place of power that both shapes and is shaped by human thought, in order to keep that very human thought – our “resonance” – the sole dominating astral force in our dimension. It focuses all incoming “traffic” within its walls and creates the thresholds as bottlenecks – while the traffic it can’t focus on itself, it contains, and brings in anyway - and finally, it uses the Director to keep all these foreign rifts and aberrations in check.

We are the House’s assistant. Familiar word? There’s one person in Control who keeps calling us their assistant despite our formal title being a peg above that definition. It is the Janitor – another very common archetype of stabilization, maintenance, fixing things up; in this case, Ahti – The Janitor – is simply a way for the House, and not The Board, to communicate its intent. The Janitor is as much part of the place of power as are its walls and rooms. They are one and the same. And a Janitor is a role that would be chosen with very particular intent. He knows the House’s innards as intimately as he knows how to keep them functioning.

So to recap, again – The House both feeds on and forms human thought constructs in order to keep other worlds at bay and is very much willing to directly cooperate with people when that agenda is mutually expressed. What if this whole entire system then, of a dimensional hub, a place of power trying to keep our resonance separate from others, is in itself a construct, an ancient expression of a basic human need? Or rather, a basic human emotional response? To go a bit meta, as a story with thematic underpinnings, that would make a sensible endgame to Control’s ideas and messaging. 

The Oldest House exists because we needed it to exist, and by consequence, we saved OURSELVES from the Hiss. Among a lot of other things in the past, I’d reckon. And The Board is our “representative” in the astral plane. We made them, too. We cocooned ourselves in constructs that would protect us from all outside resonances – all outside worlds – all outside points of view.

So what am I saying? Is The Oldest House a staunch apotheosis of conservative thought given form? I’m not willing to bet my life on it, but again, it all oddly falls into place. Think about it.

TRENCH let the Hiss in. Why? We’re told the Director of the Oldest House grew irrationally scared of the Hedron’s (arguably benevolent) influence and opted to fight it with fire; with an otherworldy horror. My guess is the House made him do that. The Board, sorry, made him do it. As firm believers in isolating humanity’s resonance from all others, they feared the Hedron’s presence as a variable incompatible with that agenda, and brought the Hiss in AS A WAY of proving their point, of keeping the cycle of fear strong in humanity’s thought, by killing Hedron and then using a newly appointed, freshly brainwashed Director Faden to remove the Hiss from the equation, as well. 

Status quo restored, all branches clipped, everyone agrees other dimensions bad.

The emotional response I mentioned was fear. We created The Oldest House out of fear. Fear of the unknown. And it became a feedback loop that disallowed us to ever consider anything else outside of our world as anything other than a threat.

Oh and you know what’s a real swanky way to impose fear on a willing humanity? *guitar riff* religion babyyyyyy

To wit, The Board refers to the House as a Tree at one point. We can find a scribbling of a tree in the Foundation. Ahti hands us a cassette tape from “his old friends” – and the band that starts playing call themselves the Old Gods of Asgard. So a tree connecting worlds. A housekeeper who is a friend to Odin’s pantheon. A chosen hero wielding Mjolnir. Did the House parade as the Yggdrasil at one point? Followed by some other nexus of blind human faith or a system of belief? Or just as religion itself?! And since now we all worship capitalism or some other forms of financial labor/revenue funnels and shoot each other dead in the streets, our Oldest House is an office building smack dab in the middle of Manhattan, its Director carries a literal handgun, and together they keep us safe from outsiders.

It all makes sense with a big ole asterisk that spells out “Yikes” in the end. 

Except there’s a caveat here cause!!! Within Jesse lives a spark left behind by Hedron; within her lives Polaris, a remnant of the slidescape, of the outer worlds; a hope for maybe liberating human thought of the endless cycle of fear that keeps it under its own Control. Will we bring the Oldest House down in a possible sequel? Is Jesse a Trojan horse? A byproduct of the Board’s arrogance? I mean we KNOW the pyramid is a hyperfocused, almost blatantly jealous entity that downright bribed us with healthcare plans in order to steer us away from The Former, another extradimensional being that was trying to get in through altered items. So maybe the House itself can be preserved, and its agenda retrofitted, and it is the Board we will have to tear down. It still all fits.

The Board is our projection of fear, the Oldest House is the wall we built to protect ourselves, and Jesse is poised to bring it all down. That’s my theory in a nutshell!!!!

I think I’ll end here for now. I could be entirely wrong about EVERYTHING here but the JUICE in this story is too damn nourishing, dudes.

[trickstercaptain]

JACK & THE PELEGOSTOS SCENE

         okay so. a scene and a meta that I’ve been wanting to revisit for years is the whole Pelegostos tribe sequence in DMC, because the last time I talked about this in any real detail was five years ago and a lot about my interpretation of Jack has changed since then. I’m gonna start this off by saying I’m not here to judge this scene or talk about how pointless it is or isn’t in relation to DMC’s plot and pacing, I’m just here to talk about what we get from it and, like in my original meta about this, how you can draw out much more serious themes and points from it despite the fact that it’s largely played for laughs in the film as a whole ( but played for laughs is now a relative term since DMTNT has emerged since I last wrote this meta lmao ).

        so the big influence on the original meta and, still to this day, a fourteen year old fanfic that i still hold in very high regard -- is this. it’s a short vignette that explores Jack’s thoughts and state of mind in the run up to the first glimpse we see of him as chieftain ( it ends right as he opens his eyes and sees Will ), and gives a bit of much needed context around what happened before we as an audience first see him in this predicament. it’s as cinemasins says, how he got into that situation is probably a cool story, but we don’t get to see it. now we know from the first movie that Jack has already been made chieftain of this group of natives before -- his whole ‘and then they made me their chief’ line to Murtogg and Mullroy before saving Elizabeth from drowning -- which is likely why, after receiving the black spot from Bootstrap, Jack decided to head to this island in particular. it’s absolutely not an accident that Jack ended up here, of all places, where he already supposedly holds sway over a group of individuals, can semi-speak the language and is in a remote enough location that Davy Jones ( or anyone, for that matter, except Will Turner ) can’t find him. 

        however, what Jack doesn’t account for is the fact that, as an apparent god in the flesh, he has extremely limited power over anyone here, and as Gibbs explains to Will, has to continue to act like a god and a chief if he doesn’t want to be eaten prematurely. so it’s a plan of his that has clearly gone very wrong. also, things have changed significantly on this island since Jack’s last visit -- which is most notably highlighted by the brief scene where Jack has run off and is trying to concoct a plan to escape ( which, might I add, includes not arming himself with a weapon to fight, despite there being a significant number to choose from. he picks the rope instead, and that tells you a lot about his non-violent nature ). shortly after this, his attention is drawn to a sack full of paprika and presumably other spices, which all bear the EITC insignia. this is an extremely important thematic moment, okay. this not just functions as the first real signal to Jack of the EITC’s increasing influence in the Caribbean ( headed by Beckett’s arrival at the very start of the film ), but also contributes to the wider theme of civilisation vs. freedom which is at the heart of DMC and AWE. this remote native group are, thanks to colonisation and trade in the Caribbean at this point in history, not quite so remote any more if they are trading with British merchants ( and there’s another glimpse during this sequence of one of the natives wearing a Governor Swann-esque wig ). you can also imply from this that the natives’ own freedom is finite, if the long and checkered history of the white settler vs. native relationship is considered.

         for Jack, this is also an indicator that land is increasingly not safe for him either. that no matter how remote an island he picks to hide out on from Davy Jones, as Beckett says, the ‘blank edges of the map’ are being filled in and civilisation is coming and won’t abide by his freedom loving lifestyle for much longer ( also, that map in Beckett’s office being finished at the end of DMC? also thematic. this whole movie is thematic. fight me ). you can therefore also technically add it to the list of ‘Jack’s death foreshadowing moments’ that litter DMC as a whole. it’s very clearly established in this movie that Jack is not in a position where he can possibly survive until the end lmao

         also, the whole idea of Jack being granted this sort of authority and position of responsibility definitely shines a light on the relationship that he has to power. given his love for freedom and his own autonomy, power and status is actually a concept that is completely opposed to this idea. power is deeply restrictive to him -- not just in the sense that Jack has to act like a chief to remain a chief while in charge on this island, but in a wider sense as a captain. it’s being a captain in the first place that has condemned Jack to this soul debt to Davy Jones. his bond with the Black Pearl have caused more suffering to him than anything else in his life. it once again demonstrates the irony that the things that Jack wants and loves most in the entire world -- to be a captain, to have status, to have the Black Pearl as his own ------- they all go directly against his own  nature. being a captain means having responsibility for his men, loving the Pearl as he does means that it’s easy to hurt him. these are all things that take away his own personal freedom, and shows that Jack self-destructively seeks out the very things that ruin him. it also proves that power-hungry is the least applicable personality trait to Jack ever.

         now let’s move onto the part of the scene that is glossed over a lot ( which is probably the Disney effect ), and that’s the bone cages. we hear from Gibbs that they were made from other members of Jack’s crew -- those who arguably aren’t central enough to the plot if you want to be technical about this, since all of the familiar members of the crew survive and happen to all be in the same bone cage with Will lmao, but I digress. the fic above alludes to the idea that Jack, being the chief, had some part to play in deciding on the fates of his own crewmen, which is absolutely my canon. and he had to do this with his crewmen standing in front of him, too, deciding who is to be spared and who is expendable, telling the natives who is tasty and who is not, which adds to the body count that haunts him throughout this movie -- he loses men to the Pelegostos tribe, to the kraken attack, and then there’s the whole 99 souls thing ( though I’ll defend my son to the ends of the earth on that particular incident, but that’s a different meta altogether lmao ). what I love about this movie is that it’s the one movie of this quintilogy that directly deals with Jack as a captain. I will defend Jack as a good captain until my dying breath, but what I like about this movie is that it puts him into arguably the worst position possible ( impending death and/or eternal damnation ) and also has him trying to captain at the same time.

        and lastly, the one other thing that the whole Pelegostos scene gives us thematically is my favourite motif for Jack: fire. in order to be ‘released from his fleshy prison,’ Jack would need to be burned alive, which is a wonderful parallel to that favourite chapter of mine from The Price of Freedom where Jack, in trying to save the burning Wicked Wench, ends up trapped inside of his cabin as it burns and sinks below the waves, and ends up with some wonderful burn marks for his trouble. that they try burning Jack alive during this part of the movie is thematically very important to me okay

[libermachinae]

Spark Light

Sequel to “Logic Circuit”

This fic is also available on AO3!

Summary:  Prowl is as comforting as Earth’s new black hole and Bumblebee has turned avoiding grief into a sound career option. After the end of the world, though, certain allowances can be made.

⭐ 🐝 ⭐ 🐝 ⭐ 🐝 ⭐

Bumblebee was dancing when Prowl found him. Music eked out the speakers of a transport shuttle, biolights blended and churned together, and several hundred mechs celebrated their continued existence in the universe by pushing their worn-out frames to just the point of breaking. It was a final farewell to the Cybertronian empire, a blending of Eukarian, Devisen, Velocitronian, Camian, Cybertronian sound and life in a way that many had suspected would never come to pass. Under constellations that even those whose species had lived under would have to reacquaint themselves with, dented, scratched, mangled, torn, forgotten bodies danced until overshot joints gave out, weakened armor buckled, frayed wires snapped, and in so doing they made their grief physical and gave it life.

It was the wrong place to seek out new friends. Bumblebee, every eager, ever lively, persevered for as long as he could, until a familiar voice pushed his designation into the space between songs and his optics threatened to flicker out entirely.

“Well, buddy,” he said, putting on his characteristic grin, “it’s been a while.”

Prowl had led him away from the party, up a slope and into the woods surrounding the refugee city. The low hum of thousands of voices carried through the trees, and between the gaps it was still possible to see the lines stretching outside of the Cybertronian aid stations, where volunteers had been working for hours to find solutions for every problem brought forth, from missing limbs to missing friends. Bumblebee had been with them for a couple hours before his human supervisor realized that he’d been one of the mechs directly involved in the battle. He was issued a firm command to take the rest of the night to recuperate, even though he pointed out that the war had prepared him for campaigns much longer and more grueling than this one had been.

Walking away while people still needed help had been one of the most frustrating parts of this long, terrible day, but at least from up here he could see the lines and knew they were moving. Even just a few hours out, progress was being made.

“It has,” Prowl said, glancing back to Bumblebee after letting himself observe the proceedings below. “Is your new body handling well?”

“It’s Wheeljack’s work, what do you think?” He proudly tapped his knuckles against the Autobrand on his chassis. “Getting back into the fight, it was like no time had passed at all. For I could tell, I’d just onlined from a really long recharge cycle.”

“But that wasn’t the case.” Though it wasn’t phrased like a question, the inquiry was there, and both knew Bumblebee was too good at picking up cues to miss it.

“No,” he said, dropping his hand, “I was aware for most of the last few years. Believe me, there were times I would have done anything to drop into defrag for a few hours, but I guess when you’re only kind of alive-ish your processor doesn’t work exactly the same way. I was pretty limited in what I could do.”

An unspoken answer to an unasked question. He’d worked with Prowl for long enough to be sensitive to the subtleties of such a trade of information, though he would always prefer to be forthright.

“How did you find me?” he asked. Even if he didn’t like the game, he knew how to play it, and that sometimes a risky move like a diversion was necessary to get ahead.

“Windblade noticed you while doing a sweep of the area,” Prowl said, accepting Bumblebee’s lead. “She was concerned but felt it would be out of line for her to interfere.”

“And she knew you wouldn’t be bothered by that ‘procedural nonsense.’” Bumblebee regretted the words as his vocalizer was synthesizing them. No matter how he smiled or the cute way his helm tilted to one side, there was no way to turn them into the casual quip he’d intended. Time had not yet healed that old wound, and all he’d done was exposed the damaged protomesh under the plating.

It wasn’t like he was seeking treatment for it, either. Left untended for so long, the frayed circuits and warped edges had become as familiar to him as any other part of his psyche, the way the war had shaped him to the point that he could not remove its influence and still remain Bumblebee of Iacon. He was his failures, and the last thing he wanted was for those who had pointed them out to think he resented them for doing so. Criticism meant people were paying attention. It was a reminder that his leadership had not existed in a vacuum, that there were reasons more than just personal shame to keep trying to be better. His one relief was in knowing that he’d revealed this vulnerability to the mech he knew wouldn’t try to take any of it back. He’d known Prowl to feel regret on only a handful of occasions, and never once bore witness to him expressing it openly.

“We each found the manner in which events played out on Cybertron to be disagreeable, for our own reasons,” Prowl said now, the burn of his optic as steady as his voice. “It might be inappropriate after all that we have done, and all that we allowed to happen, but I do still consider you my best friend. I wanted to check on you myself.”

The declaration surprised Bumblebee. Not being called Prowl’s best friend, which he’d known for some time and been unable to reciprocate for reasons they were both familiar with, but hearing that the sentiment remained even with the intervening years and numerous mistakes stretching out the space between them.

“And what’s the prognosis?” he asked, doing them both the favor of putting off that conversation for another day.

Prowl stared at Bumblebee; his lip twitched.

“Oh, come on, really?” Bumblebee said, waving a hand. “I’m fine—well, I will be. If almost surviving the war taught me anything, it’s that there’s always a way to bounce back. And anyway, right now, I can’t really say that I’m feeling any worse than everybody else. There are some mechs down there who lost way more than I did.”

He stopped himself before he could go too far down that road, realizing that he was starting to quantify lives in the same way that had gotten Prowl is so much trouble towards the end. Their dynamic only worked so long as he was the subjective one, the one who processed individuals instead of numbers, who couldn’t say how many Autobots were stationed at a given base but could tell you half the staff’s favorite energon supplements.

“Here,” he said, brushing away the carpet of needles and pinecones before settling himself onto the dirt. “We worked so hard to save these stars, why not take some time to enjoy them?” Whatever grit got into their joints and seams now would be a negligible addition to the filth caked to their plating. Dust and mud had combined with congealed energon to leave ugly streaks across most Cybertronians’ frames, paint dulled or rubbed off entirely in patterns that probably could have retold the story of the battle if observed carefully enough. Everyone was walking around with a narrative of what they’d been doing when the world nearly ended, and although Bumblebee would be glad to rinse himself of it once the washrack stations were operational, the sense of solidarity provided him with another reminder of why they’d put their bodies through such torment in the first place.

Prowl sat, leaving space enough between them that a third mech could have joined them comfortably. Gaze angled up,  to the galaxy that somehow felt just as far away now as his home world, Bumblebee allowed himself to sink back into the feeling he had enveloped himself in at the party: spark spinning in its chamber, fuel pump beating against his lines, gyros calibrating, optics sensing, vents whispering. His body was alive, working, its systems operating in tandem to keep each other functioning. For the first time in years, he could not only see the world, but touch it, grasp it, and the burden of that responsibility was one he accepted with gratitude.

Responsibility under the scrutiny of others was much easier to manage than one taken on with no supervision. Managing Starscream had been a challenge not just for the logistical work involved, but because Bumblebee had never had anyone to assure him that it was the right thing to do, especially given his own track record in leadership. At the same time, there were elements of his self-appointed position that his processor longed to dwell on a little longer, memory files initiating playback without his consent and being halted just as quickly.

Late nights spent pouring over datapads, exhaustive lists of information on—stop.

Unshared cubes of celebratory engex after Starscream’s—stop.

Arguments with Starscream of completely forgettable—stop.

Starscream flying low over the rooftops of New—stop.

Starscream sentencing a mech to—stop.

Starscream standing at the podi—stop.

Starsc—stop.

Stop.

Stop.

Queue for deletion.

Bumblebee’s sparked jumped and he immediately unqueued the file, holding it at the forefront of his processor to watch the playback: Starscream spinning on a heelstrut and pushing off his balcony with his thrusters, transforming midair and blasting off across the city. It was Starscream’s usual routine and Bumblebee likely had identical copies for every morning he’d spent in that self-indulgence of a penthouse, but he played it through several more times before returning it to his archives, processor finally sated.

Memories were all that remained of Starscream now, and that made them precious: impossible, irresponsible to discard.

His spark was spinning too fast. Silence wasn’t working; he needed to think about anything else.

“Are you okay?” he ventured.

Physical evidence of the battle was ubiquitous to the point that Bumblebee had stopped noticing its presence, but he hardly had to search for it once he started paying attention again. Like everyone else, Prowl’s finish was dusty and dull, paint rubbed off and armor dented in varying patterns across his frame. He was also littered in surface-level scratches, each of them glinting with jagged bits of shrapnel, and his shoulder betrayed the efficiency of some Maximal’s claws. It was all surface-level damage, which meant he wouldn’t be seen until the next round of medical exams took place, but it was still an interruption of the body and its normal functioning. The shadow occupying one side of his face was as loud and present as it would remain unmentioned, too like the new spaces between the stars.

And yet, his remaining optic burned like all the stars still clinging to life, refusing to be extinguished by this or any other darkness.

“I realized some things, about myself and my work, that I’d never had an opportunity to give voice to before today,” Prowl said. He let his singular gaze drift back to the masses of Cybertronians making their way through what could, for now, be considered their home. “For the first time since our return to Cybertron, maybe even since the start of the war, I feel like what I need to do and what everyone else needs from me actually align.” His lips quirked. It wasn’t a smile, but Bumblebee was under the impression that it was all Prowl was capable of now. “How I feel about such a revelation doesn’t matter; I’m going to do what’s necessary regardless. But I have to say, it’s pleasant.”

“It’s the first time in your life the choice doesn’t have to be a hard one,” Bumblebee said, “that’s probably why it feels good. It’s a relief.”

Prowl had his specialties, each of debatable merit and value, but this was Bumblebee’s: listening, filling in the gaps, forming the words that the speakers themselves couldn’t say but needed to be heard. People talked to Bumblebee because they knew he listened, and not in the way Prowl did, cataloguing information and storing it for later use, usually to the detriment of the subject. Bumblebee listened to understand. Though he struggled at times with sympathy, he still often found himself caring about those who opened up to him, causing him to wonder at times the motivations for even some of the most despicable acts performed in the war, regardless of faction origins. He’d stagnated some during his disastrous attempts at leadership, both for the Autobots and Cybertron as a whole, but the talent had remained, and in the years since he’d had nothing but time to practice and hone it.

Conveniently, it also made it easy for him to set aside his own, far less optimistic self-realizations.

“I’m happy for you,” he said, and though it was sincere, it was also inadequate. On all the planets Cybertron’s war had brought him to, not one had a word that would be able to encompass everything he was feeling in that moment, on that day.

“Thank you, Bumblebee.”

They grew silent and settled, trading glances between the cold stars above their heads and the living ones milling around the valley’s basin. It struck Bumblebee that his earlier search for company had been misguided in the same way his attempts at leading had been. He had a reputation for getting along with everyone, but experience by now had taught him that it only applied in one-on-one scenarios. On the dancefloor, surrounded by mechs eager to grab a drink and dance with the first bot to reach out to them, the energy had been right, but there’d been nowhere for it to go. Passed from dancer to dancer, he hadn’t worried about anyone looking too closely at him, accidentally peeling away the palatable upper layers and revealing that which he himself wasn’t ready to look at too closely. He was hurting, that much was obvious, but so was everyone else, and he’d thought that if he’d reached out to enough hurting mechs then maybe it would meet that need he had to connect and understand the internal structure of others.

He didn’t know how the night would have ended if Prowl hadn’t found him. Most likely, it wouldn’t have; he would have stayed on until the last dancers wandered off with the rising of the sun, and then returned to the aid stations to demand they let him help. As things stood now, he doubted he was going to be able to recharge with all the thoughts spinning through his processor, but better to spend these unintended waking hours with someone who he knew, to whom this day and its repercussions would mean the same as they did to Bumblebee.

“Without knowing what you do now,” Prowl said, “would you have tried to stop Optimus from annexing the Earth?”

The question was unexpected, the curiosity backing it a facet of Prowl that Bumblebee was not familiar with. He turned to look at his companion but received no responding glance.

“You mean, if we hadn’t known it would be our last salvation?”

“Yes. Obviously, it turned out to be in the benefit of our species in the end, but on principle, would you have stood against Optimus Prime?”

Bumblebee leaned back, letting his optics slide over the dance of the cosmos.

“It’s not like I could never disagree with Optimus, we argued plenty of times,” he said. “Pretty much every opportunity he took to leave the Autobots, I pointed out what a terrible idea it was, and I was right!”

“So, you’re saying the annexation was a similarly poor maneuver.”

Bumblebee wilted. He’d started to think that this conversation might avoid turning into an interrogation.

“No,” he said.

“It was a good decision?”

Bumblebee ran a hand down his faceplate, ignoring the bits of dirt that came with it.

“I don’t know. I wasn’t even here for most of it. Can you—Primus, can you not ask me that question?”

“What should I ask you, then?”

“What?”

Prowl finally twisted to look at him, not just his face, but his whole chassis turning to face Bumblebee, who was inadvertently reminded of how much smaller he was than most of the other Autobots.

“You clearly have something on your mind, Bumblebee,” he said. “What’s the question you want me to be asking?”

It took Bumblebee’s processor a moment to understand what was happening. Like he had done for so many other mechs, Prowl was now trying to reach across that void, to help light that space where the self grew thin and words couldn’t reach, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to do it on his own and asking for help to finish. It was a ridiculous request, and unselfish in a way that Prowl alone could achieve.

“What I told you earlier,” he said, words coming in such a rush they nearly scrambled, “ask me why.” He had no doubt Prowl would know what he was talking about. It was the only thing he’d managed to say that night of any substance, and Prowl’s constantly running battle computer would have picked it out and categorized it as such.

Prowl’s optic flashed.

“Why were you limited?” he asked. “Why didn’t you stop Starscream?”

There it was. The question that had been following Bumblebee for years, the one he could never close despite his spark’s aching need for resolution. His fans clicked on as his struggling processor started to heat his core, digging and calculating for the answer that had always eluded him.

“He’s tricky,” Bumblebee said, tracking the distances between stars with his optics, “and not just in the way he lies constantly, although that doesn’t make talking to him any easier, for sure. It’s more like his processor is constantly at war with itself. He’s scared of everything, but also entirely overconfident in his ability to defend himself. He doesn’t believe in anything, but still sees himself as destined for some greater purpose. Every time you think you’ve started to figure him out, there’s a contradiction, or he just sabotages himself to keep from being too predictable, and you can never be sure which way it’s going to go.” He meant it literally. Prowl’s battle plans had frequently been sidetracked by Starscream doing something unexpected, though there was no need to open those old wounds by pointing it out explicitly. “His processor works in layers, and they go so deep I don’t think even he knows what the core really looks like.”

It felt good to say it all out loud, to know that at least one other person might now understand the psychological labyrinth he’d been working through over the past few years, even if it brought Bumblebee no closer to understanding how Starscream functioned.

Had functioned. He realized belatedly that he’d said his whole piece as though Starscream were somewhere down in the valley, barking orders at the rest of the refugees.

“It’s a decent analysis, but it doesn’t answer the question,” Prowl said. “Anyone could tell you that Starscream is a difficult mech to work with. Why is it that your approach failed to yield results?”

Bumblebee frowned.

“I already said what I wanted to.”

“And I’m sure that was very individually gratifying for you, Bee, but you told me the question to ask and now I expect you to answer it.” Prowl’s expression was stern, and Bumblebee realized he was no longer talking to his old friend Prowl, whom he had accompanied on his first trip to a nightclub and had gotten flustered when a certain rookie grounder so much as entered the room. This was Commander Prowl, leader of the soldiers posted on Ark-19, greatest tactician of the Autobot army, and ruthless pragmatist.

He had half a mind to leave right then. He always knew it was possible for conversations with Prowl to take a turn like this, and normally he would find some way to laugh it off and change the subject, but he’d done that so many times that day he knew his defensive optimism was already spent. His tactile sensors were prickling from the extra energy being processed to match his frustration, and he could feel a familiar scowl starting to settle on his faceplate, one he’d hoped would go away once the main threat had been disposed of. It was only by the weight of loss that he stayed down, the knowledge that his spark wasn’t ready to handle another goodbye, especially one done out of anger. The crease remained between his optic ridges, but he did not move away from his spot on the ground.

“I wasn’t good enough,” he ground out.

“Even if that were true, I would expect you to be more specific.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say!” he spat. His anger was being fuel by a tangible, uncomfortable heat emanating from his overclocked processor, and he had to vent out a few cycles of hot air before he could trust himself to say more than static. “At first, I figured it was all just a game to him, so I tried to use logic. Find the moves that help him win and give Cybertron a better future, seemed simple. Except, he always found something wrong with it. Either this person didn’t trust him, or that idea had too many contingencies. I could never solve all the problems to make him confident in anything I had to say.

“So, I changed tactics. If he was going to push against concrete solutions, then I could just work him through theoretical frameworks, explain why certain things were wrong and let him make the logical steps to make the right choices. I know it sounds ridiculous, but he wanted to stay in power, and even he realized he would have to be a decent ruler in order to make that happen. It seemed like a good plan, and sometimes it even seemed to work. But then something minor would happen, one of the delegates would spook him or a disaster outside anyone’s control would cause some civil unrest, and he would go straight back to his old habits. I could never figure out what he needed from me.”

“You didn’t know what someone needed to hear? That’s hard to believe.”

“Well, like I said, he was a challenging mech to understand.”

“You made the galaxy’s foremost war criminal switch sides after a few minutes alone together, yet your years spent with Starscream offered no insights at all into his inner workings?”

Prowl was right: Bumblebee was making excuses again. He leaned forward and touched his face, remembering the unfeeling sensation of the battlemask, how it had acted as a buffer between him and Megatron right up until that last critical minute. Being around Starscream had always left him feeling exposed. Even if the other mech didn’t dig in the way Bumblebee had, he always knew how to push back, peeling away the layers of Bumblebee’s arguments and finding the hidden agendas Bumblebee hadn’t even realized he’d been hiding. Though he never felt the need to question his own intentions, the incronguity between method and motivation had given him pause on numerous occasions.

“I tried to be a political advisor, and then some sort of morality coach, and I was always doomed to fail on both accounts because Starscream already had mechs who could function in either capacity. What he needed, and what I failed to provide for him, was a friend.”

It had been no mere accident, either. Trapped in infraspace, kept apart from his friends and forced to watch as they scattered themselves across the galaxy without him, he’d been in just as desperate need for connection as Starscream. Aware of that desperation, though, and the effect Starscream had already proven to have over mechs much less easily swayed than Bumblebee himself, he had recognized the inherent danger in opening himself up to Starscream in any way that mattered. Even if infraspace had been his eternity and he’d never had to face the Autobots again, even more reason not to let himself be shaped into someone he could no longer recognize. So, with political rhetoric and claims for the common good and one-sided efforts to learn how Starscream’s processor operated, he had held intimacy at bay.

And still despite that, he had come to care for the other mech. He knew he was not alone in that: numerous others who’d been swept up in Starscream’s political dealings had ended up with some stake in their leader’s wellbeing, to variable degrees, but he knew there to be more to the connection than the keeping of Cybertron’s population. That had been the start, and remained the basis for some time, but the moment Starscream stepped into his cell, Bumblebee knew he could not leave the fallen titan to his fate. Had Shockwave never returned, he would have stayed for the entirety of the life sentence, acting as companion to the one person in the universe who needed one even more than him.

A part of his processor kept carefully encrypted finally released, and he wondered if Starscream would have opened the Talisman if he’d known there was someone who would miss him.

His vocalizer was working before his processor had decided how to communicate the thought.

“But something must have gotten through to him. I don’t know if it was actually anything I did, but he sacrificed himself to bring down Unicron. He died a hero.”

“Hm.” Prowl was staring at him, analyzing and cataloguing, calculating future outcomes. Bumblebee could almost see the process at work behind his optic, and he wondered if he’d picked the wrong mech to share all this with.

“I’m sure you mean that sincerely,” he said, “but I do feel it my obligation to remind you that this is the same Starscream who proposed to have Metroplex space bridge to Earth while more than half the population was still trapped on Cybertron.”

“I know, Prowl.”

“I’m just saying.”

“I know, I know.” Bumblebee drew his fingers through the dry upper layer of the soil, relishing the feeling after spending too long dwelling on the time in his life when he’d had no body to do it with. “Somehow, despite that, he ended up a true hero. I just wanted one other person to know.”

That felt like the closest he’d come to saying something true all night. Sure, he’d meant everything he’d said to Prowl, and in a certain context and for practical purposes it was true. All of it, though, was part of the system of layers of his and Starscream’s own making, and no matter what degree his honesty took, he always felt that there was something buried deeper, a further truth, like crystals buried in the roots of ore deposits. The desire to not be alone with his knowledge, though, that was pure. Even if Prowl didn’t share his view, took Bumblebee’s faith as a judgement on his character and nothing more: better that than to live alone with his belief for the rest of his life.

A streak of light flashed across the sky, its beauty reabsorbed before it could even be appreciated, and with a wrench of his spark Bumblebee realized that this was his final farewell to Starscream. The other departed would get funerals, boisterous reminiscences shared over pints of engex, teary quiet moments of remembrance, but there was no one with whom he could share this grief, no one who would understand what they’d been through, the intense bond that had been somehow formed from a conjunxing of desperation, loneliness, and a shared hope for Cybertron’s future. In the coming days he would lack the time to give adequate thought to the questions he still had, and as the present stretched gradually away from the past, memories would become unreliable, recollections of certain events contested until all that remained was a winged silhouette and a feeling of ever more unachievable ambition. Starscream’s eulogy had been written in words only ever spoken aloud, his legacy unforgettable and yet perpetually unclaimed.

“Establishing Starscream’s role in our history is going to be an essential if divisive task in the years to come,” Prowl said, once more reeling Bumblebee back in. “You will likely not find companions to agree with you in equal measure to those who oppose your viewpoint, but I would advise against rising to their challenges. Your skills would be better served elsewhere.” He made to stand, brushing off dust as he righted himself. “From what I’ve heard, an old colleague of mine has taken an interest in the new protoforms developing within Trypticon. She’s hoping to assist in their education and development, give them an opportunity to live lives free of the choices we were forced to make. It’s something to consider.”

“What, becoming a teacher?” The suggestion so surprised Bumblebee that he didn’t think to stand as well.

“Yes. You’re one of the few mechs I would trust with such a responsibility, Bumblebee.”

Prowl’s sincerity gave weight to the air, and for one brief moment, it was like the last several years hadn’t happened, and they were once more brothers in arms, fighting the oppression of the Decepticons and defending innocent life wherever it needed them. Bumblebee could never miss the war, but the links he had formed with his fellow Autobots were such that could only be sustained through a cocktail of mutual need for survival and crushing belief that the cause they fought for was the right one. Despite every well-meaning promise between veteran comrades to keep in touch after the fighting was over, there were some connections that could never be revived back to what they were when life and death were commodities in a galaxy-spanning trade.

The spinning of Bumblebee’s spark slowed, its chamber aching.

“I’ll think about it,” he said.

“Good.” Prowl crossed his arms in front of his chassis, his weight shifting in the direction of the tree line. The moment was over; there would not be another.

“I’m going underground in the morning,” he said, voice still steady. “I’ve picked up some fragile cargo that will need to be stored in a more secure location.”

“Oh. Are you coming back?”

“Most likely, once I feel security is up to my specifications.”

“Well, I’ll be here,” Bumblebee assured, easing back again. “And hey, if the Lost Light’s back by then, maybe we can grab Hound and Ratchet and go out for a drink. You know, almost like pulling the old Iacon crew back together.”

“We’ll see if the timing actually works out so well,” Prowl allowed. It wasn’t a flat rejection, though he did turn to leave. “I suspect you’ll be busy soon enough.”

“We’ll see,” Bumblebee echoed. He liked the thought of being busy, of having a role to play in this fledgling society, but he wasn’t sure what it was supposed to be yet. For a couple hours, he’d thought that maybe morale boosting could be his duty to the survivors, but this conversation had him thinking differently. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to be known as the passive listener anymore, even if the alternative terrified him, memories of looking down on his Autobots plaguing his processor.

It would be different this time, he told himself. He would make it so. And if he was really serious about making changes from his earlier tactics, he knew one obvious place to start.

“I’m sorry for what happened to you on Cybertron,” he said. The words came naturally, like they’d been sitting in his processor for some time, waiting for him to discover them. “I was so wrapped up in everything else going on that I didn’t notice, but I should have, and I’m really sorry.”

Prowl paused, back to Bumblebee, the whir of normal systems working louder than anything else in the night.

“Prowl?”

“I heard you, Bee. I… I heard you. Have a pleasant night.”

It was simple, a clean cut. Prowl’s form disappeared into the darkness and Bumblebee couldn’t say for sure if he would ever see it again. He suspected he would; though Prowl liked to disappear from time to time, he never trusted the rest of them to be completely left to their own devices and would inevitably slip back into the command structure to keep things operational. Though everything was different now, it was comforting to think that some of their bad habits might stay just the same.

He looked up to the night sky, wondering if it would always feel incomplete, and tried to guess if his emotions were those that one was supposed to feel in such a moment.

“Finally. I was starting to think you might’ve already found my replacement.”

Bumblebee whirled around.

The glow was the first thing he noticed, light bleeding off Starscream’s immaculate frame while illuminating nothing around him, neither the branches his armor rippled around as he moved, nor Bumblebee’s own plating as he turned himself fully, optics wide and flickering rapidly. He was smirking, of course, lit red optics piercing through the night like beacons calling a ship home.

“Oh, don’t give me that look,” he chided as he strode forward, grace betraying none of his years spent in military service. “You didn’t really think I was just going to leave you to manage my legacy on your own, did you?”

He was smiling, not smirking, Bumblebee realized, smiling and radiant and gorgeous, and in that moment, he knew he’d been lying to himself every time he said he was afraid of becoming Starscream’s friend. He’d befriended questionable characters before, offered a listening ear to those who had nothing to offer but hateful rhetoric and come away from it stronger in his convictions and his loyalty to the Autobot cause. The wariness that had plagued him in infraspace, that had him turning his newly-built back on Starscream the first moment he could, was forged from the knowledge that his feelings for Starscream had the potential to run much deeper than any of the thousands of friendships he’d formed in his several million years online.

When Starscream came striding through the trees that night, frame glowing like he’d taken the light of Primus with him when he’d slipped out the doors of death, Bumblebee realized, without needing to say it out loud, that to offer his spark to Starscream would mean never getting it back. Starscream could reject him, belittle him, take off into the cosmos and never return to Bumblebee’s side in whatever years they had left, and still Bumblebee would feel the slow-burning jagged wonderful ache, this new desire to be known in a way that had never been of interest to him before. Though he believed (hoped) Starscream was desperate enough for company that he would not betray Bumblebee for this unfortunate truth, the thought of another mech having that much power over him was terrifying, and he was grateful that it seemed they would now have plenty years ahead to let those feelings develop before a time came for critical decisions to be made.

Worries for the future, then. On that day, with the sky twice as dark as it had once been and the shadows of their past lives draped overhead, mechs of all backgrounds were dancing together, celebrating those stars they had managed to save in time with their mourning for those they did not. Bumblebee and Starscream met in the middle, both talking too fast to understand what the other was saying, their shared lights more than enough to illuminate their new world.

[sushigirlali]

Admiration - Part I (Reylo Fanfic)

Part I | Part II | Part III

Summary: Padawan Ben Solo struggles to repel Snoke’s odious influence while coming to terms with his feelings for fellow student Rey of Jakku.

Parings: Rey + Ben Solo | Kylo Ren

Continuity: Jedi Academy AU; Rey is 19, Ben is 23. 

Rating: E

A/N: This fic is dedicated to my wifey @grlie-girl under the prompt: “Poke me once more and see what happens.” (Which...we’ll get to lol) This is a “what if” scenario where Rey has grown up with Ben at Luke’s Jedi academy. I made Ben 23 because that’s about the age he fell to the dark side in the ST. Maybe things could have gone differently if he’d had Rey at his side back then. Enjoy! Set to Admiration by Incubus.

Master list –> AO3 | ff.net | Tumblr 

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Admiration - Part I

By: sushigirlali

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Could you move in slow motion? Everything goes by so fast Just slow down a little Save the best part for last

——————

Ben marched out of the Jedi training center with his hood up and his head down. It was a struggle to keep his composure given the electrifying events of the last hour, but he did his best to look inconspicuous since several students were congregated in the courtyard outside. Luckily for him, they appeared too distracted by Luke’s latest lesson to pay him any mind.

“But what if you got stuck on some backwater planet during a mission and had to construct a lightsaber from scratch?!” an excited youth queried his friends. “Are synthetic crystals really suitable for Jedi?”

“Master Luke certainly thinks so!” a boy with a brown flat cap exclaimed. “He built a lightsaber with a synthetic kyber crystal on Tatooine and used it to single-handedly take out the entire Hutt Clan!”

“Single-handedly, huh?” Choking back a laugh, Ben imagined how his mother would react to the youngling’s erroneous statement. “She’d probably shrug and say something about boys needing to get their heads out of their cockpits,” he thought fondly, moving from cover to cover until he could slip behind the tall hedges that wrapped around the courtyard, “but deep down her blood would be boiling.”

“The way I heard it, Princess Leia was the one who saved the day!” a girl with fiery red hair piped up as he passed. “All because she and Han Solo were…”

The trio’s voices faded as Ben moved out of range of their conversation, not that he minded in the least. “Rey loves that story, but I’d rather not hear about the princess and the rogue for the thousandth time. They’re my parents, but I’ve never understood how two people could...” Rey’s knowing smile just before he rushed out of the training center flashed through his mind and his groin tightened in remembrance. “Never mind.”

Adjusting his stride, Ben debated the best way to get back to his room undetected. Given the state of his traitorous body, it would be beyond embarrassing to get caught before he could calm down. Stopping only when he reached the end of the hedgerow, Ben opened his senses and peered around.

The temple grounds consisted of the training hall at his back, the dining hall to his left, and the archive building across the courtyard on his right. The living quarters were stationed directly behind the dining hall, but it was likely he’d bump into someone if he went through the communal facility since it was so close to dinner time.

Deciding it would be more prudent to go around the building instead, Ben skirted past the entrance and darted down a small footpath adjacent to the building.

About halfway down the lonely path, Ben realized he was sweating profusely under his thick robes and slowed down to compensate. “Force, it’s hot,” he huffed. “When did it get so hot? It was almost chilly this morning. But now...”

Ben trailed off as he neared the end of the walkway, but his mind was racing. “I wonder if Rey and I have anything to do with the change in temperature?” It was an odd thought, but they were intrinsically intertwined through the Force. And with the Force, anything was possible.

Pushing the notion aside, Ben emerged onto the dirt road that separated the temple from the living quarters and approached his hut. The structure was slightly secluded from the rest, shaded by a few ancient trees and surrounded by a well maintained rock garden. It wasn’t much, but it was his.

Shouldering his way into the dark apartment, Ben closed and locked the door behind him before stripping out of his damp training uniform and tossing the heavy gray fabric onto the floor. Not satisfied, he shed his undergarments as well. “I’ll have to hit the ‘fresher later,” he thought, wiping ribbons of sweat from his brow.

”For now, though…” Ben moved to the silver basin on top of his bookshelf and grabbed a rag to wash his face. The damp cloth was cool against his skin, like an ocean mist on a warm summer day.

Not for the first time, he longed for the peaceful seas and mild weather of his beloved homeworld. “What I wouldn’t give to see Chandrila again,” he mused, retrieving his favorite silk trousers from the top drawer of his dresser. “To see mother and father again, even if they don’t want…” Ben paused, trying to suppress his long standing abandonment issues.

“Don’t focus on the things you cannot change,” he muttered, pulling on his pants with a little more force than necessary. The cool black fabric felt good against his skin, but he was still uncomfortably warm. “Focus on what’s in front of you, like Master Luke says. Focus on the things you can change.”

Sitting cross-legged on the end of his rumpled bed, Ben unlatched his shutters with a wave. A cool wind stirred through the window, giving him a modicum of relief from the punishing heat.

“If only the Force could solve all my problems,” he sighed, thinking of a certain hazel-eyed scavenger.

——————

You speak in riddles Your intentions turn me on I'm your's forever Will you love me when I'm gone?

——————

Laying his palms flat on his knees, Ben acknowledged that the weather wasn’t the only thing making him hot today. Rey had cornered him this afternoon on the pretense of training together, but he should have realized she was up to something the moment she suggested they meet in an isolated meditation chamber far from their Master’s watchful gaze.

“You’re too damn gullible for a Jedi,” he chastised, feeling all kinds a fool for allowing her to catch him off guard again. She was a talented Padawan, his equal in every way, but Rey seemed to want him to see her as a woman first and an apprentice second.

Unfortunately for his young admirer, physical interactions were forbidden to the Jedi, strong emotions taboo. And yet… “You just sat there like a dolt when she started kissing you.” Ben shook his head, trying to forget the sound of Rey’s soft sighs as her lips molded to his, the feeling of her small hands gripping his—

“Dammit!” he groaned aloud, scrubbing his flushed face. “You’re supposed to become a full-fledged Jedi Knight in little under a month! Besides that, there’s a very real chance that Rey will be named your Padawan for the last few years of her training! You cannot get wrapped up with her!” It was a difficult task, though, considering how good she felt in his arms.

“If Master Luke ever found out…” He shuddered to think what would become of them. At the very least, they’d be excommunicated from the New Jedi Order.

Still, it was becoming increasingly impossible to deny his admiration for the young orphan from Jakku, especially since she appeared determined to tempt him into behavior that was most decidedly against the Jedi code.

And therein lie his predicament.

Short of abandoning their Master’s teachings and leaving the Academy, there was no real way they could be together. They weren’t normal people with normal lives who could fall in love without thought to repercussions and...and...

“Wait. Love?” Ben froze at the revelation. “No,” he denied. “It’s not possible.” Taking a deep breath, he tried to clear his mind, desperately seeking guidance. "Your focus determines your reality," he chanted, repeating one of Luke’s most important lessons. “Focus on anything but her.” 

——————

When I'm gone, You're an unfenced fire! When I'm gone, Over walls we've trampled! When I'm gone, It's you I admire! When I'm gone, My living example...

——————

Concentrating on the quiet whisper of wind filtering in through his open window, Ben leveled out his riotous emotions and slipped into a meditative state.

Life. Death. Warmth. Cold. Peace. Violence. And between it all, balance and energy. A force.

And inside him, that same force.

Reaching out with his feelings, he explored the remote rock his uncle had claimed for the Jedi. The local flora and fauna, all so familiar to him now, were soaking in the last few rays of light as the planet turned and the sun sank beneath the horizon.

Broadening his search, Ben studied the subtle movement of the massive sphere itself, noting how smooth the planet’s rotation was. The orbital speed was constant, beating a soothing tattoo inside his head.

“Almost like a heartbeat,” he thought, humbled by the complexity of the universe. There was so much he longed to explore once he became a Jedi. Planets, people, the mysterious of—

“Ouch!” Ben winced as a familiar splinter formed in his mind. “No, not now! Not again!”

Something sinister had stirred in response to his probing, calling out to him, urging him toward the black abyss of space. “Come to me, my child,” it bade. “You must fulfill your destiny!”

“No!” Recognizing the intrusion for what it was, Ben tried to lock down his consciousness using a technique he’d learned from Luke. “For better or worse, our family is well acquainted with the struggle between light and dark.”

The rumors and speculation surrounding Anakin Skywalker and Padmé Amidala had plagued his family for years, so Ben was grateful that Luke had prevented him from being blindsided when the whole affair came to light last year.

“I'm not sure how I would have reacted had Luke withheld the truth about my grandparents from me, but with everything out in the open, Luke and I are closer than we’ve ever been.”

“He’s helped me see that I’m not the only one who struggles, that I can have faith in myself despite my failings.” And in all honesty, it was a relief to know that even after donning the evil visage of Darth Vader for so long, Anakin Skywalker’s soul had still been worthy of redemption.

“The love of his son saved him in the end. Despite everything, his Jedi spirit prevailed. The light prevailed.” The notion gave Ben hope.

A malicious cackle broke into his thoughts. “Hope? How trite. There is no hope for you, young Solo.”

“Get out of my head, you murderous snake,” he gritted back. “You’re not welcome here, Snoke. Not anymore.”

Ever since he could remember, there had been a small but persistent voice whispering in his ear, presenting him with all manner of temptations. When he was a child, it was the acceptance he longed for from his parents. As a teenager, power and glory. But just recently, the voice had become desperate, for Ben no longer wanted any of those things. He was a Jedi, like his grandfather before him, and his only goal was to serve the Force.

“Don’t lie,” Snoke said cruelly. “There is still something you covet. Or should I say...someone?”

“Leave her out of this!” Ben raged. All at once he wanted to hit something, to kill. The thought of this creature, this incubus, touching one hair on Rey’s—

“Ben?”

——————

Your eyes are an undiscovered ocean far away Any minute now keeping Both poets and priests at bay Don't get ahead of me Could we just this once see eye to eye? Could you want perhaps me? Ask me how it feels to vie

——————

Eyes flying wide, Ben turned to see Rey crawling through his open window. “Rey! What are you—?”

“Are you alright?” she asked without preamble, slipping onto the bed beside him. “I know you wanted to be alone, but I felt your fear and I—”

“Yes,” he lied. Except it wasn’t really a lie because the sinister voice had gone. Even with Luke’s exercises, the evil wretch still got in sometimes. But when he was with Rey...well, she seemed to drive off his demons.

She gently touched his damp forehead. “Were you meditating?”

“What? Oh, yes,” he said, coming back to reality. “Or, trying to,” he corrected, catching himself before he melted into her touch.

“Can I join you?”

“I don’t—” But she was already moving behind him. “Okay, then,” he sighed, half turning to look at her. “Do you actually want to mediate this time, or...?” She was facing the opposite direction, but Ben was wary of her intentions.

“I have no idea what you mean,” she said, copying his lotus pose.

“Really?” he replied sardonically. “I seem to recall you asking me to meditate this afternoon when in actuality you wanted—”

“Your virginity?” she filled in.

“Rey!” Ben exclaimed, astonished by her lack of tact. “You can’t say things like that!”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s—it’s—you just can’t!” he stuttered.

Rey met his troubled gaze. “Would you rather I lie?”

“Of course not!” he denied. “Though it might be easier to ignore my feelings if you did.”

“Ben, what’s wrong?” she said plainly.

“Besides the fact that you keep trying to seduce me?”

“Besides that,” Rey agreed. Her tone was even, but he could sense her smirking behind his back.

“Nothing, I just…” How did one confess that a mad man was trying to break into one’s mind at every given opportunity?

“It’s him, isn’t it?” she said quietly. “Snoke.”

“Yes.” It was uncanny, the way Rey always seemed to know what was troubling him before he could find the words.

“Not uncanny,” she returned, easily reading his unguarded thoughts. “It’s fate.”

Ben’s shoulders tensed. “You don’t know that.”

“I do,” she said confidently. “Now tell me about Snoke.”

Knowing how protective she was, he tried to play it off. “It was nothing. The usual.”

“There’s nothing usual about an evil wizard trying to sway you to the dark side, Ben,” she countered. “Try again.”

“Really, Rey? What are you? My mother?” he grumbled. “Why did I even tell you about him to begin with?”

“Because you trust me.” She leaned back against him to prove her point and, damn her, the contact calmed his frayed nerves like a spiritual balm. “Now stop kriffing around and tell me the truth.”

Put that way… “He’s become weak in the last few years, desperate. But that only makes him more dangerous, not less, and I’m afraid…”

She rested her head on his shoulder, further improving his sense of being. “Yes?”

“I’m afraid he’ll hurt you to get to me,” he admitted. It was a revealing statement, but he owed her the truth. Rey’s life was on the line as much as his own now.

“So, he knows how we feel about each other,” she said matter-of-factly. Rey sounded less concerned than he’d expected, but she was like that.

“I’m like what?” she asked playfully.

“Brave—and annoying,” he informed her. Ben reached up and tugged on one of her looping buns. “Also, stop reading my thoughts. It’s rude.”

“Stop shouting them at me then,” she snorted. “Our bond goes both ways, Ben. If you really want to shut me out—”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” he said haltingly. “I just have a hard time keeping my head on straight when you ambush me like you did in the training hall.”

“Oh.”

“Not that I’m blaming you for Snoke!” he went on hurriedly. “You’ve always been there for me, Rey. You mean everything to me.”

“Really?” She searched for his hand.

“Yeah.” He let her take it.

“Ben?” she started seriously, lacing her fingers through his.

“Yes?”

“What happened this afternoon. What’s been happening between us for a while…” She drew in a deep breath. “I know you don’t want to hear it, but you must allow me to tell you how—

“Don’t.”

“But, I—”

“You can’t,” he interrupted again. “We’re Jedi. So, whatever you’re feeling is—”

“I love you,” she continued fiercely. “And I think you love me too.”

“No.” Ben shook his head even as his heart leapt. “You and I...we’re...”

“Yes,” she insisted, turning around to embrace him. “You and I. We’re meant to be together, Ben.”

“No, I--I didn’t mean…” he tried, sounding unconvincing even to his own ears.

“You feel so good,” she sighed, running her hands up and down his toned biceps. “Every time you’re near all I want to do is crawl into your arms and stay there forever.” Rey fit herself even closer, nuzzling her cheek against his bare shoulder. “I want you so much, Ben.”

“Stop it,” he said in an agonized whisper, aroused by her words as much as her touch.

“What if I don’t?” she replied, equally as hushed. “What if I strip off the rest of your clothes, mine, and make love to you until the sun comes up?” Rey slipped her arms under his, skimming her slim fingers up and down his naked chest in a hypnotic rhythm. “What if I take you in my hands, my mouth, inside me, everywhere...what then?”

Ben shivered at her seductive challenge, so turned on he could barely speak. “Then I would be ruined.”

“Is that why you’re scared of me?” she murmured sadly. “Because you think I’d sully you?”

“No, never,” he refuted, wanting to comfort her even as she drove him crazy. “You’re beautiful, a warrior; I could never be ashamed of you.”

“Then why? Why are you so scared of me?”

“I’m not!”

“Ben, you’re shaking,” she charged softly, able to feel every subtle movement of his body as she cradled him from behind. “And this afternoon, you ran away from me.”

“I ran because I wasn’t sure what would happen if I gave into my feelings for you,” he said huskily. There was no hiding his physical response to her closeness now, so he didn’t even try. Instead, Ben decided to go for broke; to chase her away before it was too late for either of them. “Rey, I can't do this.”

“But—”

“No, you’re not listening to me!” he thundered. “I’m not saying I don’t want to; I’m saying I can’t!”

“Why?” she said, her question a plea.

“Because there’s something wrong with me, Rey,” he said gruffly. “Something that’s always been there, poisoning me from the inside out. And I’m afraid that if we get any more involved, it’ll infect you too.”

——————

A/N: The Snoke Age of Resistance comic came out today, so all aboard the Ben Solo pain train!! Hopefully this alternate version of events will help ease it a little. I’ve got Part II about half way written, and it will include some sexy times. Would love to hear what y’all think so far! Check out my other fics, I have a ton!

[paleorecipecookbook]

Accomplish More: How to Replace Busyness with Productivity

I have spent much of my professional life fine-tuning my own productivity so that I can accomplish more without working longer hours and destroying my health. Read on to learn how “busyness” doesn’t equal productivity, how to cut out distractions, and how to accomplish more by actually doing less. Being mindful, learning to prioritize, and scheduling downtime and play are all important for a productive, happy life.

You can accomplish more, and you don’t need to work longer hours to do it. Here are seven ways to increase your productivity without sacrificing your health or happiness. #optimalhealth #healthylifestyle #chriskresser

We All Want to Accomplish More

Does any of this sound familiar?

You get to the end of a day and you feel like it was all a blur

You often feel distracted and have trouble focusing

You are constantly checking your email, text messages, or social media accounts—even when spending time with loved ones, on vacation, or out in nature

You never feel like you’re getting enough done, and yet there’s so much more you have to do

When you are trying to take some downtime, you keep having the nagging feeling you should be doing something more “productive”

If you can relate, there’s a good chance you’re in danger of having what author Max Strom called a “near-life experience” in his book There Is No App for Happiness. We’re busier than ever, and arguably unhappier as a result.

The problem is that society has equated “busyness” with productivity. Busyness has become a badge of honor or status symbol. (1) Being constantly busy is a way of saying, “I am important, and my human capital is sought after.”

Instead of a badge of honor, I believe that busyness is a cultural disease. It’s a sign of just how disconnected we’ve become from what’s important in life. Our days are packed with one thing after another and full of distractions. The internet was supposed to revolutionize how we worked, helping us to be more productive, but everyone would agree that it’s a double-edged sword. The average person checks her smartphone 221 times per day. (2) We’re constantly switching between social media, texts, emails, and actual work—and less gets done as a result. “Busyness” starts to wear us down and might result in:

Lack of sleep or insomnia

Feeling fidgety

Food cravings

Feeling “worn out”

Being tense

Brain fogginess

Too much stress and distraction wreak havoc on our health. Chronic stress, and the unhealthy habits that go along with it like low physical activity, poor eating habits, and lack of sleep, are related to a myriad of health problems, including:

Anxiety and depression (3, 4)

Gut distress and diseases (5)

Polycystic ovarian syndrome (PCOS)

Cardiovascular disease (6)

Autoimmune disorders (7)

Obesity (8)

Lowered immune function (9)

Sexual dysfunction (10)

Unhappiness

The good news is that being genuinely productive doesn’t have to mean longer hours, more stress, and health issues. In fact, you can learn how to replace busyness with productivity.

Seven Life Hacks to Increase Your Productivity

I’m a “productivity hacker.” I have spent significant time actively working on increasing productivity while cutting out things that decrease it, and I’m going to share what I’ve learned with you. Here are seven practical tips that have helped me throughout my professional and personal life:

Be mindful

Stop multitasking

Batch your tasks

Do less (but accomplish more)

Move your body

Make time for rest and rejuvenation

Play and have fun

1. Be Mindful

Did you notice if there were clouds in the sky this morning, or what they looked like? Did you even look up or were you staring at the phone attached to your hand? Later, when you waited for your lunch date, did you open your phone to check email or scroll through Facebook?

In everyday moments that once presented the opportunity for reflection and quiet presence, many of us are more likely to be thinking about what we have to tackle next on our to-do lists, what we already did or didn’t do (with regret), or what others are doing. We compound this when we pick up our phones and browse the internet, as if that will help us find the answers. We instantly respond to texts that can wait. We click on headlines and read news stories that aren’t urgent. All these little distractions are actually rewiring our brains.

A three-second distraction—enough time to pick up a phone to view a notification—can disrupt our brains from a “sequential task” (following directions, for instance) so effectively that we’re likely to make twice as many errors when we return to the task. (11)

In our quest to constantly be “on” and be productive, we have forgotten how to be mindful and present. Mindfulness, originally derived from Buddhist philosophy, means being aware of thoughts, feelings, bodily sensations, and the surrounding environment on a moment-to-moment basis. It means paying attention to what is rather than getting lost in thoughts about the future or the past.

Mindfulness meditation can be used by anybody regardless of religious beliefs as a way of cultivating awareness and attention. By setting aside even 10 minutes per day to focus on your breathing, you’re exercising your brain’s ability to let go of distracting thoughts and stay on task. With practice, you can learn to allow feelings to come and go, like watching cars pass by.

Here Are the Benefits of Mindfulness

Mindfulness meditation improves both interpersonal and intrapersonal skills. It’s been shown to:

Increase positive emotions while reducing negative emotions and stress (12)

Help tune out distractions and improve attention and ability to focus (13, 14, 15)

Enhance relationships and make us feel more connected and relaxed (16)

Boost our compassion for ourselves and others (17)

Improve self-esteem and social anxiety (18)

The brain is able to reorganize in response to stimuli, an ability called neuroplasticity. Neuroplasticity is the idea that we have the power to change the function and structure of our brains through our emotions, thoughts, and behaviors. In a way, neuroplasticity lets us rewire our brains—to focus on positive occurrences instead of negative, for example, or to be more aware and mindful. By measuring neuroplasticity, researchers can directly observe and quantify the effects of mindfulness meditation on the brain. (19, 20, 21)

Through changing the brain, mindfulness changes the entire body. The vagus nerve, involved in regulating functions such as heart rate and digestion, sends messages between the brain and our internal organs. (22) Vagal tone, a measure of its functional fitness, correlates to healthy bodily function and increased positive feelings. (23, 24) Low vagal tone is related to inflammation, poor cardiac function, and gastrointestinal dysfunction. (25, 26) (With regard to the gut, for example, communication between the brain and gut can be influenced by neurotransmitters created by gut bacteria.) (27)  Mindfulness meditation, deep breathing, and emotional tools to foster self-love and kindness can all improve vagal tone. (28, 29, 30)

Mindfulness meditation has been linked to major health benefits, including:

Pain management (31, 32, 33)

Reduction in anxiety and depression (34, 35)

Blood sugar control (36)

Slower cellular aging (37)

Healthy pregnancy (38)

Improved sleep (39, 40)

Overall improved immunity (41)

You Can Start Meditating Today—Just Start Small

If you have never meditated before, it can feel excruciating at first. Start small. You don’t need to spend hours each day meditating. Instead of committing to something unrealistic on day one, try meditating for just five minutes. Studies show that a mere 10 minutes a day yields a host of benefits. (42)

Here are some tips from Jon Kabat-Zinn, the founder of mindfulness-based stress reduction:

Pay close attention to your breathing, especially when you’re feeling intense emotions

Notice what you’re sensing in a given moment: the sights, sounds, and smells that ordinarily slip by without reaching your conscious awareness

Recognize that your thoughts and emotions are fleeting and do not define you, an insight that can free you from negative thought patterns

Tune into your body’s physical sensations, from water hitting your skin in the shower to the way your body rests in an office chair

For additional resources, consider enrolling in Jon Kabat-Zinn’s Mindfulness-Based Stress Reduction program. Two meditation books I recommend are Meditation for Beginners and Buddha in Blue Jeans. A group at UCLA creates a new, free, 30-minute guided meditation every week. The Headspace app has been helpful for many people (as long as the extra app doesn’t contribute to more distraction!).

2. Stop Multitasking

The term “multitasking” was first used to describe parallel processing abilities of computers. Today, of course, multitasking refers to a person’s ability to do multiple activities simultaneously, like talking on the phone with a client while answering emails. In some workplaces, multitasking is simply part of the job.

Multitasking sounds efficient and useful, but unfortunately, it is a myth.The simple fact is that the human brain cannot focus on several tasks at the same time.

According to the late Stanford neuroscientist Clifford Nass, multitasking should be renamed “multi-switching,” and no matter what you call it, it’s actually a buzzkill for productivity.

You Aren’t as Good at Multitasking as You Think

People who think they are good at multitasking may simply be proficient at rapidly shifting attention between two tasks they have already mastered. That’s not really multitasking—it’s just switching between a couple of things you’re already good at. (Think of an experienced chef who can prep and cook lots of dishes without missing a beat.) And most of us can’t do it well. Furthermore, research suggests that those who consider themselves to be effective “multitaskers” actually aren’t good at multitasking at all, and their productivity suffers.

Students who engaged in high levels of multitasking reported significant issues with academic work. (43) In a study of college students, those who focused on a single task at a time outperformed multitaskers in a series of experiments. And when the experiment involved multitasking, the participants who were not considered multitaskers still came out ahead. (44)

Media multitaskers, those who, for example, scroll through social media while watching TV, especially have reduced attention control, greater susceptibility to distractions, and a general tendency toward diffuse or shallow attention. (45, 46, 47) A study at Stanford found that 25 percent of students use four or more media devices at once. (48) They’re writing a paper, they’re on Instagram, they’re in a text conversation, and they have music playing. But this is becoming increasingly common in the workforce as well; workers will be answering the phone while replying to an email and texting friends.

The loss of productivity that comes from switching tasks frequently is called the “switch cost.” (49) The switch costs can manifest in various ways:

Increased switching leads to poorer performance on the primary assigned task

During rapid switching among tasks, learning new information is difficult, if not impossible

Attempting to multitask increases the chance of mistakes (in the case of cell phone usage during driving, this can be a potentially fatal mistake!)

Almost without question, you will be more productive if you focus on one task at a time instead of trying to multitask. Consider a focus-intensive task such as writing. It takes a while to settle into the zone of concentration. If you come out of it to check email, you might not be able to get back into the same level of concentration quickly. One study by researchers at UC Irvine monitored work interruptions among office workers. They found that workers took an average of 25 minutes to recover from interruptions such as phone calls or answering emails and return to their original task. (50)

If, while you’re fixed in the zone, another to-do item comes into your head, don’t shift tasks. Don’t open a tasks app in your phone to type a reminder. Instead, jot down a few words on a physical notepad and deal with it later so that you can stay focused on the task at hand.

If you enjoy working with music in the background, check out Focus@Will. The site provides music that is designed to modulate at intervals that match up with how frequently your brain begins to search a new stimulus. They call it “scientifically optimized music to help you focus.”

3. Batch Your Tasks

Frequently checking email and browsing online is guaranteed to reduce your overall productivity. And, unfortunately, you’re checking email and social media more than you think. One study from 2015 found that, on average, people check their smartphones twice as often as they thought they did. (51) These statistics might surprise you:

Office workers on average check email at least 12 times during the work day. (52)

The average person picks up his phone and interacts with it 221 times per day. (53)

75 percent of employees respond to an email within an hour of receiving it. (54)

If you’re interested in the plain, hard truth of how you’re spending (read: wasting) your time, download the web-based application RescueTime. It tracks the time you spend on different tasks, like social media, email, Microsoft Office, and any other programs or sites.

The solution? Batch email, errands, phone calls, and other tasks, using the following tips.

Schedule Time to Check Your Email

Instead of checking email constantly throughout the day, schedule two to four focused sessions per day to devote to email. Schedule these times into your calendar, just as you would a meeting, and don’t even have the email application open on the computer otherwise. Checking email (and texts) has become addictive for most of us, and it can take some time to break the habit of constantly wanting to click on it—but once you take the plunge and schedule your email activity, you’ll free up larger chunks of time to work on tasks that require intense focus.

Group Your Tasks Together

Group similar tasks together within the day (or week if more applicable). Batching works for more than just email. For example, instead of having meetings scheduled for 9:30 a.m., 12:30 p.m., and 2:00 p.m., schedule all of them within a single block of time, like between 3:00 and 4:30 p.m., for example. This frees up blocks of time for uninterrupted work. Other examples of this would include doing all in-town errands on the same day or having a dedicated day to meal prep for several days’ worth of meals.

Schedule Your Batches Strategically

I know that I am more productive and focused in the morning, and so that’s when I will focus on writing or content development. I leave errands, meetings, emails, and so forth for later in the day. Evaluate what works best for you.

Turn Off Your Notifications

As I mentioned above, multitasking doesn’t really work. All the little notification boxes that pop up when someone likes your status or comments on your post shift your focus and break your concentration. Most apps have notifications turned on by default, but you can manually turn them off. If you really want a reprieve from the constant distraction, try following the “notification zero” movement and disable push notifications entirely.

Of course, you might need to keep certain notifications enabled, but you know what they are, and you can turn off the rest. At the very least, putting your phone face down is helpful because you won’t be tempted by a screen that lights up as soon as “news” comes in.

Leave Your Phone in Another Room

Research indicates that the mere presence of a phone can be distracting! (55) If you keep the ringer on, you won’t miss that important phone call you’ve been waiting for, but the phone will be safely out of reach.

4. Do Less (But Accomplish More)

It might be hard to hear, but no, you can’t do it all. We get so frazzled trying to keep up with dozens of people, projects, and activities, that we lose sight of what we’re working towards.

In order to achieve your goals, you need to get rid of the “busyness” and instead learn to plan and prioritize.

Learn How to Say No

This tip is meant especially for the people-pleasers. As I said, you can’t do it all—you shouldn’t try, and you shouldn’t feel like you have to. Focus on what’s important and let the rest go.

Avoid Arguing about Things That Don’t Matter

From Facebook tiffs to in-person drama, these arguments will drain your energy and often sour your mood, both of which will negatively impact your productivity.

Stay Away from Toxic People

Being courteous and kind to everyone is a good rule of thumb, but not everyone has to be your best friend. Steer clear of negative people or those who tend to stress you out.

Identify and Plan Out Your Goals

As a monthly practice, identify your five most important projects or goals. (Put a note in your calendar to do this—you could choose the first Monday of the month so that it’s a logical fit with your schedule.) Don’t skip this step—you have to know your target to aim correctly. Each week, identify tasks to move you closer to those goals. (Again, Monday makes sense, but some advance planners may like doing this on a Friday, in preparation for the week to come.) At the start of each day, list the three most important tasks to follow.

Make a Schedule Instead of a To-Do List

By setting aside specific times for tasks, schedules prevent things from staying on your to-do list indefinitely. Pencil it in!

5. Move Your Body

Here is where I will start to lose people. That’s because the remaining three productivity hacks have less to do with work itself than with supporting productivity while you are not working. But they are just as important.

Physical activity improves cognitive performance. (56, 57) Busy professionals will say they don’t have time for exercise, but without it, productivity will suffer. Even at work, you can incorporate more movement into your day with these three strategies.

Sit Less and Move More

One meta-analysis involving 18 studies and over 800,000 subjects found that those who sat the most had a greater than 100 percent higher risk of diabetes, a nearly 150 percent higher risk of heart disease, a 90 percent higher risk of death from heart disease and close to a 50 percent higher risk of death from all causes when compared to those that sat the least. (58) A recent study found that as sedentary time increased, so did early death from any cause. (59) What might be surprising is that in this study, exercise time did not mitigate any of the detrimental effects of sedentary behavior.

Invest in a Standing Desk or Treadmill Desk

My treadmill desk has been life-changing. I walk at a very slow pace (less than one mile per hour) while doing computer work, or I can choose to stand. Some companies may even purchase a standing desk for you as part of a company health initiative.

Take Frequent Breaks

I use the program Time Out to determine break intervals. Every 10 minutes, the screen pauses for a quick 15-second break, during which I look away from the computer, stretch, or close my eyes. Every 45 minutes, I program Time Out to take a longer three- to four-minute break. I will walk outside for a bit, do a few pull-ups, or make an effort to look at 3D objects instead of a 2D screen.

Outside of work, an ideal exercise routine should incorporate weight lifting, interval training, vigorous activity, and moderate activity. But whatever exercise you enjoy doing and actually will do is better than none. Also, increase physical activity outside of distinct periods of exercise—walk or bike to work, take the stairs instead of the elevator, spend time running around with the kids.

6. Make Time for Rest and Rejuvenation

Americans in particular are working harder than ever. Men and women in the United States are working 12 to 13 hours more per week than they were in 1968. In a year, Americans, on average, work: (60)

137 more hours than Japanese workers,

260 more than British workers, and

499 more than French workers!

So many feel like they can’t afford to take breaks, or feel guilty about doing so. But downtime replenishes the brain’s stores of attention and motivation, encourages productivity and creativity, and may help you accomplish more.

The most creative and productive people in sports, business, and the arts make a point to rest and rejuvenate. Many artists and athletes rarely practice more than four hours per day and regularly schedule breaks and naps. (61) An interesting study on one consulting group experimented with less work. The bosses insisted employees take regular time off, workers took one day off per week, and employees were told to unplug at night instead of checking email. (62) At the end of the study, employees were more productive and more satisfied with their jobs because they were able to work better when they were revived and rested.

Structured downtime helps us feel refreshed and rejuvenated, but this time can look different for different people. Whether it’s walking, meditation, cloud-watching, or something else, schedule regular downtime into your day.

If You Want to Feel Rejuvenated, Go off the Grid

We all could benefit from being less connected. I recommend “going off the grid” regularly. One day each week, don’t check email or social media or use a computer or phone except for very basic tasks like finding directions. For the past few years, I have taken at least a week of vacation where I go completely off the grid.

Is it scary to imagine a week without a smartphone or the internet? I’ll admit—at first it was challenging, but now the only thing that’s difficult about it is going back on the grid.

Make Sure You’re Getting High-Quality Sleep

Poor sleep has negative effects on cognitive function, including decreased short-term memory, reduced learning capacity, a decline in mental stamina, and an inability to sustain attention. (63) Most experts on sleep agree that humans require seven to nine hours of sleep in the vast majority of cases, but unfortunately, many Americans never clock that much shut-eye. In fact, nearly 30 percent of American adults are sleeping fewer than six hours per night. (64)

Here are some beginning tips to help with sleep:

Control artificial light exposure, especially at night. Do not use screens two hours before bed, and if you absolutely must use them, wear orange glasses that block melatonin-suppressing wavelengths of light. Apps like f.lux can help you control the amount and color of the light coming from your screens.

Get exercise during the day.

Wake up and go to sleep at the same times every day. Even on weekends.

Take a nap. Although it may vary, 10 to 20 minutes seems like the sweet spot for a beneficial nap.

Address insomnia. If your mind can’t shut down at night, try the Rest Assured program instead of a sleep aid medication. The program works by maintaining a greater state of relaxation and ease throughout the day, which will help improve sleep at night.

7. Play and Have Fun

Play isn’t just a frivolous luxury; it helps keep our minds flexible. Play has been part of our evolutionary heritage. In adults, playfulness is associated with creativity, productivity, flexibility, optimism, empathy, social altruism, and stress tolerance.

What counts as play? According to Dr. Stuart Brown’s definition from his book, Play: How It Shapes the Brain, Opens the Imagination, and Invigorates the Soul, play is:

Purposeless, done for its own sake

Voluntary

Outside of time

Improvisational or spontaneous

Mildly addictive

Watching television and browsing the internet are distractions, not play. Cultivate time for something you enjoy doing that fits the criteria above, like photography, knitting, playing basketball, music, surfing, making art, dancing, and more. Make a list of playful activities, and when you’re in a rut, consult the list and do one of them.

The pleasure of play releases endorphins that help counteract stress hormones, improve mood, and improve immune function, among many other benefits.

Now I’d like to hear from you! What do you think of my seven strategies to increase productivity and banish “busyness”? What other productivity hacks have you discovered? Share your thoughts and suggestions in the comments below.

The post Accomplish More: How to Replace Busyness with Productivity appeared first on Chris Kresser.

Source: http://chriskresser.com November 16, 2018 at 06:09PM

[minty-pepps]

some thoughts on comics

this has less to do with comics as they are in their current state in the industry and more about the artistry possible with the form, maybe even artistry in other mediums as well. this is something i’ve thought about a lot, and it’s rather long and a bit rambly, a bit elitist and maybe even pretentious, but i’d gladly appreciate it if you read it!

(this contains some spoilers regarding The Killing Joke by Alan Moore, the film and novel Drive, respectively by Nicolas Winding Refn and James Sallis, Devilman by Go Nagai and Persona by Ingmar Bergman.)

while discussing art with an art examiner, i came across a particular topic which has been bothering me for a while. i mentioned my interest in comics and their influence upon my work, and one way or the other, i can’t particularly remember how we got to the point before we moved on, she said “yes, but you need to use your influences in the high arts”.

a typically familiar distinction was made once again: comics are low-art, cheap and mass-produced, with little artistic viability; all visual arts besides it have the potential for high art. 

had i been the person i was a few years ago, i may have agreed. i may have also extended the idea of “high visual art” being only possible within the classical mediums of visual art: painting, drawing, sculpting. 

but as i’ve gotten a little older, a little more open-minded, and a little more willing to see things from others’ perspectives, i’ve realized just how much artistic expression is possible in other visual arts as well. photography, film, comics, collages, printing, 3D art, etching, animation. all of these visual mediums possess inherent strengths that can create extraordinary images, can communicate things otherwise impossible in other ways.

but, as i wrote in the title, this is about comics; or, maybe, more specifically, the concept of comics and their potential. 

so, to give a definition of comics, let me use scott mccloud’s definition: “comics are juxtaposed pictorial and other images in a deliberate sequence, intended to convey information and/or produce an aesthetic response in the viewer.” 

this is ripped directly from mccloud’s book “understanding comics” (which is a great read and sort of inspired this write-up, i’d advise you to check it out) and while this may be the most accurate description of the form, it’s possible far more things may be done outside this definition, which could also fall under the idea of comics, but we will have to wait and see. 

it works well for now, however, and can possibly, with a backwards look at history, relabel some pieces of art as comics. an example of this, given in “understanding comics”, is the triptych, which typically is 3 paintings placed alongside each other to convey an overlying idea within the culmination of the works, with each work conveying their own specific idea. 

this gives one possible insight into the possibility of comics, and that is their ability to explore ideas in a “narrative” way via their images, whether it be actual narratives on display, or themes which link and provide context to each image. 

in other words, comics can explore singular ideas belonging to larger ideas, with each piece of art in the sequence informing the context and/or meaning behind the others, providing a framework for the entire comic from which meaning can be derived for each individual artwork.

 this ability of comics, for each piece in the whole’s meaning to be able to affect the overall whole meaning of the work, and vice-versa, falls under the idea of semiotics, and i believe it is this direct connection to semiotics which gives comics a large range of visual artistic expression beyond only narrative, beyond only language and beyond only imagery.

to give you an idea of why semiotics is such a powerful thing, let me illustrate for you; imagine a dog barking, wagging its tail, and running around in a field - see how it runs, jumps, and chases, in a friendly game, after a bird. now imagine a man, laughing, holding his belly, with a soft, loving smile on his face, a dog collar and leash in hand. finally, imagine a pickup truck parked in front of a house, its back canopy dirtied with mud and hair, with a man about to clean it up, a tired look on his face.

the logical association you could make here might be an obvious one: a man who loves his happy dog, after returning home from letting the dog run on a field, hates the process of cleaning his truck after bringing the dog back home in it. your mind has automatically made a logical framework to provide meaning to each idea shown.

but what if the man carried not a dog leash but now a shovel in the second idea? what if his face showed not happiness, but anger, hatred and disgust? the tired cleaning of the final idea can now carry a far darker association, yet it is entirely a created one within our minds. in fact, our entire perception of the relationship between the dog, the man, and the truck is created by ourselves. 

and it is with this perception of the whole, with our mind creating a logical connection between each individual element that comprises the whole, that gives comics its ability to convey artistic themes extraordinarily lucidly and at the same time also give the potential of intentional ambiguity and different interpretation (this intentional ambiguity i believe being the most important part of what people classify as “high art”). 

with this in mind, i believe comic artists have the ability to depict not only stories but thoughts and human ideas beyond the limitations of both narrative and visual arts in a vividly clear way which only our individual minds, informed as they are by our personal perceptions, can understand.

 but it does not happen, or if it does, it does not happen nearly enough. and this, i believe, is why comics are perceived as a “low art”, that comics are only a form that can only communicate simply and explicitly. 

so what are the limitations that, i feel, limit comic artists from being perceived as “high artists”, as artists with something serious to say in their respective form? 

i believe there are many reasons, reasons beyond the control of artists themselves which i can understand immensely (such as comics being a form of industry, which limits artistry a lot), but there are some beliefs and ideas which i believe are perpetuated within and around the form that limits comic artists from fully utilizing the medium in an artistic manner (this is also where i have to engage some elitist opinions of mine but nevertheless i believe they are necessary).

1) Comic art =/= Fine Art

(please note that this is dealing with artistic proficiency, not artistic intent or authenticity)

this is usually the first reason why comic artists are dismissed as “low art”. narrative propels comics, usually, and with the narrative behind comics providing the necessary framework for meaning to be connected between each frame in a comic, this usually has the unspoken implication that art in comics does not have to be technically proficient, or at least proficient to the standard of “amazing art” which most people expect from the visual arts.

i think, if you’re on tumblr, you can inherently understand why this is ignorant. if not, if you’ve ever given visual art a proper go, you can also understand why this is wrong. if an example must be provided, please look at this

this was made by Ashley Wood, an illustrator and comic artist, for his comic Automatic Kafka. i think this demonstrates how comic artists can display remarkable technical proficiency, and why i think the idea of comic artists not being able to be as technically proficient as a regular “fine artist” is a flawed belief.

However, even if a comic artist is technically proficient, what often drags them away from being considered a “serious” artist is

2) good art and good writing =/= good comic

(this is also handled in scott mccloud’s book, i highly recommend “understanding comics” once again”)

now i might sound elitist here, but listen, i think this is something that needs to be vitally understood by anyone who believes in comics as “high art”/a serious art form: any visual story when driven by plot, by actions, by thoughts, by things which can be tangibly translated into language and have a narrative formed from that, is inherently going to be inferior as an art when compared to literature; maybe not all forms of literature, since lots of “low art” fiction relies immensely on imagery to create scenes or events (which would be rendered a lot more elegantly and simply in a comic), but it’s simply due to the fact that words are far more useful for many abstract ideas which cannot be communicated simply by images alone. 

for example (and i’m going to use an example of a novel considered cheap, pulpy stuff to illustrate the problem here so that one gets the sense that it isn’t just “classic novels” that do narrative better than comics), if one takes a look at the film Drive by Nicolas Winding Refn, then compares it to the original novel by James Sallis (which, admittedly, the film adapted loosely), one will immediately notice the difference in tone between the two, but also what’s strikingly different is the way the Driver is characterised. 

In the film, the Driver is portrayed as a stoic, quiet and friendly guy, a sort of Man With No Name, with a dangerously efficient, criminally-inclined hidden life, whereas in the novel the Driver is shown to interally monologue a lot, and often in a cynical and acerbic way, while being a sort of anti-heroic moral judge, giving further insight into the character’s relation to the rest of the narrative, while still illustrating the abstracted Driver from the film. this could not be done as easily in the film, nor would it contribute to the film at all and quite frankly the novel’s Driver is a lot less of a character appropriate for the film in general but ignore this for now

this illustrates the problem of comics being believed (both by audiences and creators) to be only a narrative-driven or art-driven form. with this i must say there is nothing wrong with comics being narratively driven, it is just incredibly reductive to think of the possibilities comics may have if they’re only seen as narrative-driven and/or art-driven.

and, this is going to sound very elitist of me, a lot of the stories presented in comics are very schlocky, convoluted and contrived, and do not use the medium to its fullest extent to work on possible themes as best as they could. even highly acclaimed comics are praised primarily on their story lines and/or their art, perhaps some may throw in a nod to panelling, composition and so on, but there is rarely appreciation for how these comics use the form of comics, and often times, they don’t, really (i’ve had a couple of friends admit to skimming over the art in various acclaimed comics and manga they’ve read, such as Watchmen, The Sandman, Berserk and Goodnight Punpun, because “they’re secondary to the story”). 

to give an example of how i think comic form can be utilized to its fullest in narratives in a very good way for that “intentional ambiguity” i mentioned earlier, i’ll use the last page of The Killing Joke by Alan Moore

this is the culmination of the entire story, and it ends ambiguously for the reader (i suggest reading the comic for the full effect of this page, plus it’s a really good comic). 

is the joker being taken away by the police in the final panel? in the middle panel, is the joker being strangled, or is batman simply placing his hand on the joker’s shoulder? is batman laughing with or at the joker? is he being sympathetic, or is he trying to conceal his anger? does the laughter’s disappearance in the final 3 panels indicate resignation or death? 

we’ll never know, and thus we’re given this ambiguity which we can weigh against ourselves, reflect upon as human beings, and use as an insight into the overlying theme of the work. 

this may sound a little too serious for some, but I feel that dismisses the real issue here: it’s not about what approach an artist takes to approach their theme, nor what themes they have, it’s about how “seriously” they handle what they try to do - whether it illustrates the joy of familial love and care or the unseens horrors of war and their effect on everyday life, a certain level of gravitas should be employed by the artist to do so.

however, this comes to another point which i feel needs to be addressed, and it’s something i feel needs to be understood, as i feel it will help bridge the divide of comics and “high art”, or, more satisfactory, destroy the ridiculous barrier which prevents the form being appreciated or used for serious artistic expression, and that is

3) cliched and pulpy subject matter

(this is a bit of a rant and more rambling than my other thoughts, but i think this one is the main issue)

this ties in with a point i mentioned earlier, being that comics are seen as “narrative-driven” or “story-driven”. this often leads to extraordinarily convoluted plots having lots of “plot logic” and “lore” to justify many of the events that occur, as well as give a scenario for the emotional climaxes occur and for the themes to be explored. 

 now, let me say here, in addition to the earlier point about “serious handling of subject matter”, i personally, and i think some may agree with me, cannot stand having long and unnecessary trimmings surrounding a core theme, nor do i think justifications need to exist for anything and everything; if it works towards the emotion or ideas being explored, it works. 

for example, Devilman by Go Nagai is a pulpy action horror manga, that is its primary intent and the general expectation one gets going into it. i don’t really think i can get much exploration of any themes in the work beyond an “eh” touching on an anti-war theme in the second half with subsequent rereadings, but as a primarily action-focused manga with the intent being to entertain, Devilman is just perfect for that. there’s nothing wrong with that, but it’s first and foremost a pulpy story, done interestingly and satisfyingly; anything further than that is entirely a reading of my own, since everything else within the work contributes to its main explicit intention of the work. 

it wants to create a fictional reality where the events in the story can occur, so it does that, and it does that knowing the story as its end to the means of the plot’s logic and events, nothing more (i think this is where most people get irritated by seeing others do in-depth analyses of anime, manga and general other “trashy” stuff like 80s horror B-Movies but I digress).

i’ve got a big space opera dealing with the horrors of war. i do not see why i would need to divorce war from its inherently political-social implications on earth. 

i’ve got a fantasy chosen one journey, with elves, orcs and warlocks, with a side-theme of racism. yes, this may add interest to the fictional world created, and that may be interesting to consider when applied to real life, but it is honestly too distant, too alienated from the context of real life to adequately consider in real life, and i feel that that cheapens the value of any possible interpretation or intended meaning.

(do note that i am not derriding people who wish to such with fiction, with comics, or with any form of art, but i feel this is simply the issue that causes such a divide between “high art” and “low art”.)

let me use an example of what i feel handles its artistic expression well, without the trappings of logic or subject matter (thus moving into that “intentional ambiguity” which i feels gives serious art its timeless quality), though it is a film: Persona by Ingmar Bergman (something which i’ve had a couple thoughts on, which i plan to write on).

this film, from what i understand, deals with the personas which make up one’s self, and how our personas, even if we try to distance them from ourselves, are ourselves. how it does this is not shown in a structured, logical or plot-driven way, even if there is a plot which gives context and drive to the events being able to explore it. it instead uses the elements of film to explore this in ways which only film could: acting, imagery, sound, continual movement of time. when the lead characters enter the beach house in the film, reality become less rigid in structure, as it seems to merge with dreams (hallucinations even), and things don’t generally seem to work within reality’s logic, but instead operate for the needs of the emotion, the themes, the ideas that wish to be conveyed.

and that’s how the film “works”; not because of the material around what the artist wants demanding things be this way,or that, but allowing what is wished to be expressed instead steering the artist and their internal artistic logic. it is this whole idea which is expressed by the entire work that should be given priority, not the clutter, i feel, and the minor ideas surrounding this whole idea should give both insight into the meaning of the whole idea, as well as its surrounding informing our perception of its own individual meaning.

and, as i’ve said before, this is semiotics, and comics have the most direct connection to it in all artforms outside maybe film, and as our entire human consciousness is formed from individual experiences and elements from which we derive meaning in both their entirety and in their individual context, this is why i think comics have such immense potential for artistic expression: they are the easiest way for us to express, as closely as possible, the human mind.

thank you for reading!