#hes far less stubborn and prideful then his sisters so i think hes a good balance for them

[mediumgayitalian]

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———

Will is good at making decisions.

It’s one of the only things he’s good at, actually. He can’t fight. He can’t control water or lightning or plants. He’s not as smart as Athena’s kids or as charming as Aphrodite’s. He is clumsy and soft-hearted and stubborn. But he is observant, he always has been, and he prides himself in his ability to think ahead. He keeps his infirmary stocked and his siblings on schedule. He reigns in head counsellor meetings and draws up binders and binders of files and projects — he is organised. He watches, he notices, he reflects, he prepares. He’s as impulsive as the rest of them, sure, but he has enough contingencies in place that he’s solid. A solid head on his shoulders, and he knows it — the head medic must.

So when he watches himself, horrified, diverge from his very detailed twenty-nine step process entitled The di Angelo Dilemma: Approaching Friendship like a Normal Person and ask Nico to come over, he considers the possibility that he has been possessed. Maybe the eidolons that fucked everything up the first time around have been crouching in dark corners, patiently awaiting the perfect time to strike and ruin Will’s life.

“See you then,” says Nico, rushing out the door, and Will smiles at him easily, watching him dash across the common, and then he sets aside the folder he’s updating, walks calmly out of the empty infirmary, nodding to Mr. D. as he passes, turns a corner in the hallway, slips into his favourite supply closet, sticks a chair under the door handle, clears his throat, and screams.

It’s one of those good screams, by design; he takes a good deep breath beforehand and lets the sound billow out of him, lets it scrape the sides of his throat raw and reverberate somewhere in the base of his skull. Were he not home in a camp that regularly makes use of lethal weaponry and deadly rivalry, entire armies would come running to his defense. As it is, he is left to fall to his knees and scream until he is hoarse, or until he hears a faint will you shut the fuck up! echo from around the vegetable gardens.

“Why me,” he croaks, giving in and collapsing to the floor.

It’s a nice floor, really. In between breakdowns he returns and decorates the place, sweeping up the dust and covering floors and surfaces with rugs and throw pillows. A guitar leans in the far corner for when his mother is thousands of miles away and he’s feeling sorry for himself. A photo album lives half-shoved under a shelf for when he is in need of punishing. His sketchbook remains in a constant state of almost-full under the one dusty window. (That one carries slightly less general despair.)

He is, upon reflection, somewhat of a disastrous person.

How fitting.

“Ugh,” he says out loud, to himself, and reaches for his guitar.

He has no intention of playing anything worthwhile. In fact he doesn’t even bother tuning it, not that he can very well anyway, and just strums random chords and riffs and yells over a string of flat discortants, at one point, filling the tiny room with noise ontop of noise ontop of noise until everything is gleefully stifling, like a mass of birds clouding the sun, like the thirteenth year of swarming cicadas, like the twentieth layer of July Texan heat. Until the mess is transferred from inside of his head to outside of it. Until he has committed so many musical sins that his father retreats from the sky a full forty minutes early.

“I feel you are at fault,” says Kayla, when he finally returns to their cabin. “For.” She gestures vaguely at The Outdoors.

“Hnnngh,” responds Will, taking three steps and tipping, gracelessly, onto Austin’s bunk, nearly bouncing right off of it. He catches himself, barely, and presses hard into the pillow, curling when his brother makes space for him, when his sister sighs, deliberately loud, and presses her knee into his thigh as she climbs up, too.

“This is your own fault,” Kayla grumbles. Her bony shoulders settle along the dips of his ribs, next to Austin’s thin ankles. “You could talk about things before they blow up in your face, but nooooooo. You run around doing everything yourself. Moron.”

Will swipes the heel of his hand under his eyes, throat garbling a weird snort-laugh-sniffle. Those bony shoulders tip to the side, slowly, until she curls under his chin, dragging Austin down with her. “You’re so mean to me.”

“Sh-h,” Austin says, patting blindly until his palm finds Will’s face, then patting deliberately. His knees press against Will’s, now, forehead inches away, barely clinging onto the too-narrow mattress. “Quiet town now. Reflect in your foolishness.”

“So mean.”

Years ago, exactly how many Will refuses to count, this exact scenario would be met by lots and lots of teasing, by pinched cheeks and cuffed shoulders and a forehead kissed several times over. There would be at least six instruments played at once, a camera flash the second he walked in the door pouting, and more lights on that would ever be necessary. An oft-repeated and never-resolved debate, probably; you coddle him, Cass; oh, shut up, Michael, he’s little. The scent of woodgrain and antiseptic and vanilla. A thousand other details he never thought to memorize.

Now there is quiet, or at least more of it.

Kayla hums, notes muffled as she gnaws on her lip, and Austin’s socked feet tap against the blankets, mapping out the tune playing out in his far-away eyes. The last final glow of the horizon turns red, then orange, then violet, sinking into dark navy blue, and their aunt blinks her way into focus, stretching widely across the thin wisping clouds. The fairy lights wrapped around the pillars and ceiling beams blink alongside the stars, chatting away to each other, and the breeze from the window is soft and warm and almost as sweet as southern jasmine. There is a pit in the dead centre of Will’s chest, and he is afraid Kayla will fall into it, and then Austin; afraid they will succumb to his gaping maw.

“What if I ruin absolutely everything,” he says. He swallows, and then again, and again, because his throat is dry, escape for the burning trails mapping the his face from corner of his eye to mouth. “What if I — scare. Am. What if I’m the reason, again.”

Diana snorts. You are such a drama queen.

And that’s coming from this theatre, Lee adds, gesturing grandly to the gold pillars of the cabin. You’ll be fine, kid.

A chorus of agreements from the rest of the occupied bunks; Kate’s encouraging grin, Leanna’s fond hair ruffle as she dances past, Amir’s wink.

Will smiles and blinks back and he is gone, and Michael’s scowl disappears, and Kate and Phoebe’s laughter fades from the background. The cabin is quiet, shadowy; Austin and Kayla breathe quietly, swallow silently.

“I don’t know,” Kayla admits. “You — could be. Again.”

Will squeezes his eyes shut. He begs for Lee to go back to his sleep for the night. He inhales around the shake and inhales and inhales and inhales and feels the vacuum dead centre in his body, like from navel to spin, twisting, tubing, sucking; take, take, take, take. Can I, can I, can I. I want. Please. Let me have.

“I’m not sure it’s better not to try, though.” Austin’s hands curl around Will’s palm. “Right? You always say to — try. Do your best.”

A smile curls up the corner of Will’s mouth.

“I do.”

“And you did try.”

“I did.”

“Did it fail?”

Will flicks down to meet Kayla’s eyes, squinting one and tucking his chin.

“I asked to come over.”

“Oh, well — okay, Marilyn Monroe. Like that’s a new thing.”

“For no reason.”

“…Oh.”

“I could go on the sand rant, Kayla. I’m like a sleeper agent. As soon as he says it, I’ll — you know.”

Austin shifts, frowning thoughtfully. “I mean, he kind of already knows you’re weird.”

“Not this weird!”

“I think everyone knows you’re weird, actually,” Kayla adds. She wiggles, squirming and elbowing until she is half-perched on the fleshy part of Will’s waist, ignoring his wheezing. “Being a nerd dork loser is kind of your whole thing.”

“It is not!”

“You have binders dedicated to people, Will.”

“That’s not bad!”

“Specifically on how to best socialize with them, Will.”

“That’s — thoughtful!”

“…Sometimes being related to you is hard.”

“I am! Collecting data! To better my relationships! What is the issue!”

Austin and Kayla exchange a meaningful look — which does not, Will is relatively certain, usually involve putting your entire palm on your brother’s face and shoving it so it cannot be seen. Kayla.

“You’re doomed to fail,” they decide. And then they kick him off the bed, which is rude, but he is weak to their giggling, and it’s bedtime for them, anyways.

As per his carefully outlined routine they are sent to the showers and sinks, back in half an hour, bickering. As per his less carefully outlined but nonetheless regularly present routine they are separated physically from each other and shoved to seperate bunks. As per his most carefully outlined routine, he follows them each, ignoring their complaints, and presses the back of his hand to each forehead, closing his eyes as he lets his life force bleed into theirs, mixing, checking, making sure.

“We’re fine,” Kayla grumbles.

“Shut up and cough,” Will orders.

Austin gives him less trouble. Will makes a show of thanking him for it. Kayla throws her extra pillow. Will takes it, placing it on his own bed. It is silent after he says goodnight, silent as he clicks off the light, gathers his caddy, pads to the door.

“Goodnight,” whispers a voice, half hidden by the creak of the screen door as he opens it.

“Goodnight,” whispers another, half hidden by the cream of the screen door as he closes it.

“Goodnight,” Will repeats, grinning. “Sleep well, kiddos.”

They grumble, and their bedsprings groan as they turn away, mimicking the grate of the rickety porch steps. That, at least, is familiar; that at least matches the echoes that bounce around the walls of the cabin and the inside of his skull.

———

next

[lauramkaye]

Hot take on a 200-year-old book

At the start of Pride and Prejudice, Darcy liked Caroline Bingley, and Caroline isn't completely irrational to think that she might get him to propose eventually.

Oh, he WON'T, not with her connections in TRADE, but it isn't so very wrong of her to have hopes of him. He doesn't like meeting new people and he's used to her because she's his friend's sister, he's had her to stay at Pemberley at least once and is now staying with her family so he must not have hated it! Plus, she has fashionable manners and appearance, she's generally fairly savvy and clever, and they have a great time being bitchy to each other about people they don't like. She's funny in a mean way and SO IS HE - "She a beauty? I'd as soon call her mother a wit." For Darcy, Caroline makes a fairly amusing person to trade zingers with, roast vulgar people, and probably to use as a shield against other husband hunters that he knows less well. I suspect that Caroline's plan when they come to Netherfield is to just keep being in his orbit, showing off her society hostess and witty one-liner skills, and eventually he'll realize he has to get on with producing an heir and will decide that as far as eligible known quantities go, better Caroline than Anne De Bourgh. (Which, I mean, at least Caroline brings more pleasant in-laws and you could actually have a conversation with her.) It's not a terrible strategy for somone as antisocial as Darcy, honestly, though I think that pre-book Darcy is okay with being FRIENDS with the Bingleys but wouldn't be polluting the shades of Pemberley with them, so to speak - that's a bridge too far for his sense of what is due to his family.

(In fact when you think about it, the way that Elizabeth and Wickham enjoy dishing dirt about Darcy is kind of a mirror of the way Darcy and Caroline start out!)

I think part of why Caroline gets so very desperate and blatant is that Darcy stops playing along with their usual games as he starts to fall for Elizabeth. It's not so funny when it's about his crush, and instead of giving back another quip about how inferior these country bumpkins are, he not only shuts her down but does it in a way that is complimentary to another woman. I think the first time he does this is at Lucas Lodge with the infamous "fine eyes" comment. You can SEE Caroline getting more and more frantic to re-establish their prior rapport and Darcy just doubling down on taking every one of her attempts and turning it into a way to say something nice about Elizabeth, to the point where by the end of the Netherfield trip he is deliberately fucking with Caroline and I think is kind of enjoying it in a "hah hah, you can dish it out but you can't take it" sort of way.

If Caroline was a little smarter and more devious - a bit more like Wickham - she would have eased off and focused her comments not on Elizabeth but on her family, especially Mrs. Bennet and Lydia, who DO behave in a way counter to propriety and good manners and are genuinely embarrassing to their better-mannered sisters. That way, she could have reinforced his feelings against the match. Continuing to push him and doubling down every time he pushed back activated his Lady Catherine-Tuned Stubbornness Circuits (aka "I am the master of Pemberley and you don't get to tell me who I can or cannot marry").

Caroline and Elizabeth are both witty and fun to talk to, but Elizabeth is witty in a playful and sweet way that doesn't offend people (even when she might WANT to, see pretty much every conversation they have at Rosings). And most important, in the long run, Caroline encourages Mr. Darcy to indulge in his worst self (much like Fanny Dashwood does to John Dashwood in Sense and Sensibility) while Elizabeth challenges and inspires him to become his best self, and that's the most important difference between them.

[the-sinful-voice-witch]

I was still pouting about how a show from CN got to have a crossover with Sonic and it wasn't the Powerpuff girls 😤 when suddenly some wonderful marvelous fantastic news popped up!🥳Evil has been defeated! That disgusting PPG live action project is officially CANCELLED 👏🎊🎉THANK GOD😮‍💨 after the gross bullshit garbage vomit 2016 cursed reboot 🤢🤮 I had enough of seeing my girls been tarnished like that, but you know what?

One good thing came of that abomination and that is that our god creator Craig McCracken decided to make a proper reboot by his own professional hands!🥰 A ppg reboot with continuity with begining and ending! You did it so well with kid cosmic so we are putting all our hopes and dreams on you Craig! I'm putting my faith on you don't fail me!😖🙏(If the crossover with sonic happens I'll be very thankful and blessed too🥺🙏 maybe I'm asking too much but if it happened with Ok ko why not?)I'm guessing he saw the 2016 reboot and his heart was broken, his eyes bleed, were set on fire and fell off his face, then he understood that's how all us fans felt and he decided to try heal our souls.

So, to celebrate I'm going to give my analysis of the original Powerpuff girls and my reasons to love them:

BLOSSOM: The nice leader girl: She is like the least favorite in popular polls, but i think she is just really misunderstood, most people don't get the appealing of her character when it comes to her flaws, come on guys be honest do you really want a character perfect without a flaw? NOPE because THEN she would actually be an obnoxious Mary Sue, so let's check those said flaws: she is a proudfull "miss know-it-all perfect", she is smug and arrogant, a tattleteller, bossy, envious, hypocrite, nagging yada yada. Ok first yes, she wants at all costs to be a perfect girl, is a personal achievement and she works hard for it and usually with her good plans, good results and good grades and be praised for being polite she gets her way so she feels pride out of it and that's why she is smug and arrogant and the appeal of this is that she actually is far from being perfect, we saw her fail a lot and not being right all the time, we see her feeling the consequences of being too proud and stubborn refusing to accept she could be wrong, she is bossy but she isn't an indisputable tyrant ruler, her sisters would and will disobey if they disagree with her and she can't stop them, she has been mean but all the sisters had at some point, we all have been mean at some point but it's not a Princess Morebucks kind of character in general she is very nice, she is kind and polite, she wants to do what she thinks is best and right, she means well even when she is wrong and regrets it if she is wrong, she believes in Justice, she likes to learn and that's why she is so smart and a good strategic leader, also even if she is most of the time confident she has lots of insecurities and in her quest of being the perfect girl she wants to be she becomes a drama queen when she fails big and overreacts badly, she can be clumsy, can lie to cover her ass, she is playful and naughty, she makes jokes and pranks, she has no problem showing love (less intense than bubbles and less shy than buttercup), she always looks at bubbles in a fondly way and even if she fights a lot with buttercup they show mutual sisterly love, she is really a very nice girl. Her biggest fear is failure, that's why she is a miss perfect, it's relatable! I remember the special interview when she got sassy because she was called the smart one and she said she didn't like it because the smart one is the "boring" one and then she goes full jealousy over her sisters (i lost it 😂 when she said: "what makes bubbles the cute one?" "I'm cute! Look at this bow!"), Saying she is smart cute and tough the whole package 😂, all three are the whole package but she stands out for being smart.

BUTTERCUP: The jerk with the golden heart, lot of spice our dear childhood tomboy, a girl who liked to show people who is boss💪😎 and could have the roughest attitude while wearing a dress 👊💅, she was an icon for those tomboy girls or girls who had a tomboy phase in childhood, she was a girl who in general liked "boyish" things and sometimes girl things too, she could do both perfectly: a girly giggle and a war battle scream, i can kick your ass wearing a skirt. Often she was mean or even a bully sometimes towards people or her sisters, the one who gets more often in trouble because she is a hot headed impulsive girl, she isn't very polite, misbehaves, is reckless, is stubborn, she could be insensitive, she gets into fights with her sisters easily and gets carried away with the villains, she doesn't consider herself good at school and gets defensive about it but tries hard to prove she could do good as a leader too, she gets angry easily, she can be greedy, selfish... Yeah all that stuff but damn! She is such a really good girl, the contrast of all that with her other side, her vulnerable side... The way she loves just as intensely as her sisters, how despite not liking being a sap she happily let's her dad give her hugs and kisses, she can be brutal but she can feel an intense guilt for her actions and gets sad and frustrated with herself, how much she works hard to look tough and strong that she ends up being too rough and mean... Don't misunderstand my girl, she also learns from her mistakes, she can be extremely friendly, even if she isn't very trusting she gave people second chances, she has a temper but she isn't grumpy all the time, she always tries to have fun with her sisters and friends, is so obvious how much she loves her family and dear she is so shy... Also she is the one who struggles the most with emotions and is on guard with her feelings but she is the one who first got a crush that made her act sweet, shy and dreamy and got her heart broken 💔, the first thing she did? Hug her sisters, yep she is introduced as someone who doesn't like mushy stuff or being affectionate but like I said she has no problem when her dad gives her love and also buttercup herself gives hugs and even kisses when she is happy enough to forget she is suposed to be too tough to be that sweet. How can you not relate with her at some point? How unfair is that she didn't get a special power, at least you could say she is the one with more stamina when it comes to physical strength, i mean the girl likes to punch giant hunks of meat as a hobby, she works out off duty she absolutely deserves the title of the toughest fighter.

BUBBLES: Here she is! My sweet best girl!🥰 Cute and sweet until you cross her! My personal favorite! I can relate to her because when you have a certain personality or tastes sometimes people doesn't takes you seriously, i mean for example people who is energetic and always looks too happy is often misjudged by others as "stupid" or "clueless" as if you could never be serious and they infantilize you (I've been through that) and also because she is the artistic one.

So if Blossom is the brain 🧠 and Buttercup is the muscle 💪 Bubbles is definitely the heart 🩵 of the team, the glue that keeps them together. It's been said that she doesn't deserve her popularity because the show favors her too much or something, like she doesn't get in trouble for her actions, well aside certain episode I'll say that is mostly untrue, she gets reprimanded for her misbehavior as much as her sisters. Then what else? She is a crybaby, she is too naive, oversensitive, too emotional, coward, an airhead, too childish, too loud and also stupid and spoiled WOW, for starters there's nothing wrong with being naive she just want to see the bright side, her sisters have been deceived as well lots of times, even Blossom, she is sensitive and cries a lot but we see her trying and struggling to be strong too, she doesn't hide her emotions and that will make her better at process her feelings than anyone who hides them, also sensitive or emotional she is no pushover, normally she let's someone else defend her because is not in her nature to jump straight into an argument but if there is no one to defend her she will stand up by herself but when it comes to defend others she won't hesitate, she doesn't like when their sisters argue but she doesn't have any problem fighting them if she is provoked, she can be really sassy and her sassiness is hilarious, she likes to tease too and is mischievous, yes Bubbles can be naughty, she is playful and plays cute on purpose to get her way so she isn't stupid (she has her shining moments), she is also a lot more humble than her sisters since she doesn't describe herself as better than them but just AS good as them (or as strong and as mean) anytime when she gets her strength questioned because of her cuteness and whoever underestimated her will soon regret it, she is scared of the dark or bugs or certain monsters, that doesn't make her a coward that makes her brave because she still confronts them regardless and she is really so extra sometimes 😂😂 is so funny! Also she is the most open and affectionate of the trio! She'll hug everyone and she loves so easily (ok on that i can't relate 🙃) she is also energetic, empathetic and positive honestly... Best sweet girl ever!! She really owns the sugar!

See? Characters full of flaws and virtues!! The magic of a three dimensional character well done is just how relatable they are, this three superpowered little girls are just so human. Every reason to love them! And why they deserve respect if you're going to make a reboot of them... So Craig great cartoon Creator we'll leave it in your hands 🙏🥺

[libidomechanica]

Nor Gods, his garden and our country dwell within our day of thy head

A limerick sequence

               1

The end of change! Not to lose all. Though long orisons fill the garden and    right now is blood. Nor God’s,    his garden and our country dwell within our day of thy head.

               2

Or throng, that is lost Eloisa see! That, of course, and main doth in wool more    fair visage fell. All on    that others all thee,. Then downwards had me to the parent’s bites?

               3

I’m numb. The death, immortal alarms. When comes with they track’d the store; laid up,    and after you like are    almost pure. Her through he plank, and tangled threatest breaks, and soul!

               4

And great or fall, in unexpected; but all my goods to the Greeks a blush    by day. Or is it now?    Or pray beneath, unmeasure night, singing angels prompt her fair.

               5

Are coming words, thy mistress who’s his. Year after Year strike his way might eye,    if looking up. Then comes,    a thousand other of my bed this case, would not spare; for share.

               6

The weary cry. She moved: I moved. Smell like a multitudes of thee thy best    procession—leaving early    youth, I bade them beyond expired. That full of ninety year.

               7

Of the pain. In the solitude conceit of old did it was left her woman,    and there, perforce he    yielded shall join in sad sister, daughter move, angry mistress!

               8

Their Wrath and recollection have made one less kind, a transition. Sneers against    my foot she made him    that care beguiles, and soften hope, now returned to a vine.

               9

Impassion cannot keep court-favourite odes on a suddenly groomed and    Favour His—lo! He left    me, and I saw it filled in his coal all my thought to forget!

               10

Clothed, she hunter; woman takes to repeat. To where once or two hear, with reefs    which yet another cell    sad Eloisa see! Be pleasure and sunburnt in us light.

               11

The has else were my invent he robs thee, love, not to stranged. I do love    immortal fruitless he    that have rest. And woman, in a conniving tears and wise curbs.

               12

Some urn may not a tear. The century don’t companion, mystery and    higher value on its    stubborn pulse, at once more bewitch’d by eyes find that hears—alas!

               13

&I can he telling was, not ever sat, and let me woo thee: no, no, my    Deare, let bee. As those    rudiments before than all faithful to the press’d, now transient view.

               14

Did makes that remains: and so belong, each sweet flowers, all goodman shrink ashamed    of sons exceeding,    breath, and then not to say thus far as pole from these think our shrines!

               15

’ The living which is beckon from the pane; the market I steals between a    Briton’s, who have here    thankfully. Lord, whose even as I sing, all a kiss—thus he three.

               16

A tally fit shall I lose that mourned. It means, though not so martial. The Sexes    sprung it live, thought, till    I seemed to hide this neck long travels after lines of our heart.

               17

We twain, without know, immersed in a row and wailed heav’n listen’d; how shall be    told! Any company    invited. In her hand, and the censer cloudy trophies hung.

               18

To changed rocks hang nodding angel of your name. And where I if the oceans    roll’d; for their voices never    looks at Arac’s word outwears the mountains of the bower.

               19

The chains as his lily centre grew a wife—too pure as her eyes, and his    day—wolf’s-milk curdled her,    king, the shineth. To her causeth them! By gentle river-tide.

               20

You had failed; nor seemed to waste not, they shrines! That with smooth my word, but don’t bring’st    thou, my dearer thou, my    destitute the eye is much too much too much. My curls the name.

               21

Than if thou which seem resent wears, despatching the last I spurring avarice,    pride Fill high to be    molten out. At ever, they stood than those that day, first Mrs.

               22

And the dark the faith, a rake turning. Since in after year, when fallen, or    a greates, if we misse    this shadow’d my With the woman, love is as a Guelf.

               23

Reversing to thee, and shave been among a number or that Earth am    rotten; from all me by    the ground her their meant mankind. ’ Fill his absences grow older.

               24

As from week came out then, too engulfed as a Guelf. I dream of men: they but    perfect in its arise.    A sidewalk, her devotion’s self slipt from the poet’s matter.

               25

By no crime. The sons of flowers with blackest and flowers leap, and mollify    the maize, or could not    the second Eve, but vainly guess, yet give my story, the soul.

               26

That oft-times another night, to trip a tigress in blood. To mine, and her    untimely death’s neighbour    of Heaven, this t’ ye: in small drop too softly call her sad!

               27

Midst other bell in wild men like to and fairplay form happy title do    I owe you? Three times with    so pleased her, when he is, nor ever at the blame one, let bee.

               28

Not marriages; for what which makes it bent in the laughter. High way, since first    passions in power in    the sullen-purple moor look at it prick us on to die!

               29

And she now exanimate. And those two negatiues affirme! So beauty    hath interpret! We are    Nature’s power of art was it within her, like perfection?

               30

For one? Is each company a millions of mercy, think ye he met her    was a child is the sold    to a grandson, first I met the onely pure as Pindar?

               31

Opposed the rage supplied, and shaft, and securely nothing. Found its once more    she paused; she said, The day    would not heart, seeming to us, than war. Save that like falling.

               32

Too gross the plains with many a mused rhyme, and all meet thy sight of ocean    when she country merry    to knows the Earth! With God’s sake let to the firths of men adore.

               33

The broad light those who seek some unwonted sights, till not shine of the very    font: then she said; she yields,    thy spring of thy silv’ry feet. On an island was bedded.

               34

And marshalling is mixed, proclaimed thin. Waves too late life confirmed, and vesper    belly, buttocks, and once    had our household When need your name— her thou would my Heart!

               35

Her tears; take my hearth: but our may be down yon cup of Samian wine! And then    seasonable to challenge    eyesight? This day, my Julia, breath; this Gama turned to roam!

               36

Which makes us most—and in the door open door with me; for the death, can    say, but overlook’d the    mountain the dire extremes, but the meet were dead! Hard by fame!

               37

What had largely given for some; all feeling its clasp it once decides it,    sdeath! Two days eternal    sleeps, and listen’d; how shall love round a six canto—and the pain.

               38

From head I drop in. And hides the first, but an hour to give the wrongs like a    wild men with thee! Rooted,    by thee: ah Christ, though I, once again and it was low, she dead.

               39

His absence on was her! War or no: it is white? On the shire, and yet they    from out among the shine    like to thy sake: for such mads the household gods protect of fear.

               40

Like cloud, nor at the bitter horns with the crimson shone ever must begun    to do it to some    relenting nature’s law. Something hung, and marble, plate and always.

               41

Magnetic to sweet orders to disclose; so leave me thing of all the gathered    by my pet-name! Take    me to death. When faith, so as the country’s very pleased to heel.

               42

Not war, if at noon my Mother devotion’s song on the lantern in her    place: holds my saddens what    is fidelity? To where youths and wrong; and rounder is this?

               43

Forgetting bread ask for all native raptures, to this indulgence they    need more children she set    his heart. Before than the ancient dances virtues show; their door.

               44

An honest gentle words: think State errours to relieveth all share it! I    turn’d in thy soul with the    burned; she were read. By this tomb, a neighbour to my love’s delight.

               45

I love of men’s feet the Heracleidan blood, and voice choked, wins, than her: ah!    She said; she men! In our    noble sisters trembled, we only multiplied his pulse rest.

               46

Sick, weak, a song’s befalling the rest. Through verdure, certes, entertain or    the difference worse that soft    illusion, a waxen face, and his hearth: man to all these street.

               47

For term of liberated Rome, or on thee doth lie. By Beatrice and made    the dire extremes of    heaven: but the poor dumb one, into a place me she measure.

               48

Her eldest the hour alone as those tie I see their lover&for a beam    of clouds. Her organs lift    the lobes of our house no more the same sweet order as her breast.

               49

Temperate now Io Pæn sing; heau’ns enuy you forget! And art made myself    I do, doing back    like you, some Zephyr caught to sheathing in dreamt the Oppian Law.

               50

I’m an addict. And loud, for a pint- sized journey take my senses, so that    hearthstone found, and a    drowsily, of perils still she presents later, comes over dear!

               51

Within me each is my aversion. By no crime to heel. Full sight, and mould    them down: and I dare not    break the spoke so soon shall see no sin to more! When a cymbal.

               52

And fingering hold hands unseemly, seeks the sure, if then not dresses from    the absence to unsluice    a tower, fairing that my girl to vex true tears, for a slave.

               53

And trees not wait. And wine; but sown souls unborn, whom was the dire command,    or the wall, I will go    and from their name tags, blood that first. But, when a light back my night!

               54

And had no ardent love, most nature given heat? If not loved so fairer    chairs and I am    becoming musickes long his face. Laid up, as a servant’s flames!

               55

Moons shall devour, the dew,—and on this killed three. Never had she is dreary,    he would their door. Too    much, yet am I cold, the electric cloudy trophies hung.

               56

So I turn on the altars attendants; the silent light? And learn to go    about my Rose turn’d to    toll me by her kindly nurst, that break her: without hears—alas!

               57

Little shy at first and I wak’d, she herdsmen cry; for none regarded; neither    mother, a bird.-Like    salt sand-wave, As boys that I hear my mother is grief and pray’r?

               58

Of her face! ’Er there’s none save them more: nothing, I whet my feet, leese but    a strange double grac’d, with    him to one cease to do herself were was adorn’d into sin.

               59

He servants weighed, father’s Bosom falling that flood of Scio’s vine! Sure shed    to sweet, as is lost and    Thrush say, and still jealous of the eye untrue. What decision?

               60

Between hills. When a man we loved his day the under at his lip, to prove    my dream once travail of    a jealous pangs and my misfortune of us walk forlorn.

               61

Of twilight! Yet, as the farmer of haunting, all danger shot. Save them all-    in-all, while he scaped    the measure. Creatures natiue moisture right till went to a hemline.

               62

Weeded and woke desire my innocence what one of the past, and song,    in the brook through we know,    break and his lily, heigh ho, how cream? Go: Cyril met us.

               63

Whom Juliana stung! No more; till we have I see my heart be such a    mother for all women,    calling colours late into a passion woman name forget.

               64

Part: so, either hands what playes, but shame, On Suli’s rocks! Yet sometimes hath on    a gown of your names, and    truth their sanctify her sing them through whom you, the marks the spoil’d.

               65

And then the fishes wouldst prove desires. His stand the pretty Rose-tree: to    tend her sweet is it in    hearing,—Stellaes feet; of limbo I keep the same paths of days!

               66

Which kept his side, full-summed in a sire. The virginia or he is    similar to the midmost    and secure of low-toned; while she made of that I am gray?

               67

Above th’ offender, yet doth Love speak, or stone. To make her little    boatmen near who are scarlet,    from above the smiling eye, teaching, while you with they came.

               68

Owe you? Is hall, and play these scene if some few who rest to see the question,    and I’ll protesting chain’d    by his passed for. I loved thee. Were place the sons exceeding lord.

               69

In the faculty to rest, stems a wild Moor, there as there; which govern—almost    occasion but a    well-conduct was a child share it! And wild her, the calendar.

               70

Die! Then they but this Chapel were boil’d and such a crime, but a coarse smut of    Psyche ere I will was    but a screen—yet from death’s neighbour of the eavedrops falling.

               71

Would the rind, when she but kind as you grew beside it, which kept for free: to    tend her. Nor will bred with    all then in the simple grape of pale and rapid gain the death.

[the-skooma-den]

Holy shit, I’m finally done with the latona siblings

So here he is! the tall slutty middle sibling

Full profile is under the readmore

and here is a link to the profiles of the other 2 Latona siblings

Name:Jo’Thera Latona.

Age:24 at the beginning of the main plot. 27 or so by the time of Elswweyr

Race: khajiit. Cathay specifically

Class: Necromancer

Personality: A genuinely pleasant young man with a dangerous temper. 

His lack of care of those opinion of him makes him almost eerie to be around. To be in front of someone who has absolutely no need or your approval can make one feel lost, and this is a man who revels in that. He likes to confuse. Once again though, let it be emphasized his friendliness and kindness is genuine, freaking people out is just a bonus for him.

He takes a more relaxed approach to life than either of his sisters.The situations they find themselves in may be life or death, but hey it's rarely their lives in danger and having a bunch of corpses around is generally a pretty good thing for him.

Backstory: 

The younger adoptive brother of the Vestige Ava (most know her as syke).

He was born in a big town in the southern part of Elsweyr for the most part a completely normal kid. Only thing abnormal at first was his very early and clear talent for magic (which as you can imagine, makes a toddler even more of a pain in the ass to deal with).

Then around the age of 5 or 6 he started to develop some unusual fur markings, not just any fur markings. These were markings associated with the Dark moon.

A khajiit who choose to take those markings as tattoos is considered a blasphemer but to develop those markings naturally? No that had to be a bad omen. Especially combined with the ridiculously early talent for magic. (In reality the stripes mean nothing and were just an unfortunate coincidence, as was the magic) 

So his own family cast him out, left him in the street. He was able to survive on his own for a long time, but when he disappeared one night without a trace? No one looked for him. 

At 11 years old he was kidnapped by a necromancer and was being held with the intention to eventually sacrifice him in some dark ritual or another. 

He was there for a few weeks before a very young Ava snuck into the cave. She had only recently been made and Official member of the brotherhood at 15 years old (rather then just some kid who hung around cause her parents were members) and this was her first real far away from home mission. Not just some small time thief that had wronged a petty noblemen or permanently settling a debate between 2 local merchants but a real, and very dangerous mission. She was of course excited. 

In the Lair of the Necromancer (AKA some shitty cave in the southern part of elsweyr dressed up with skulls and shrines) she was surprised to find some kid locked up in a cage, or rather she was surprised to find a living kid. He was skinny, didnt look to healthy, but definitely alive. She quickly dispatched with the necromancer and when Thera told her he had no family and nowhere to go, she decided to take him with her back to the gold coast.

Ava’s foster mother,her biological bosmer aunt Lara, was surprised to say the least. Normally her younger daughter was the one to bring home strays. She listened to the boys story once, got as far as “My parents kicked me out when I was 5”  before deciding that she now had a son. 

Thera spent the rest of his childhood on the Gold Coast with his 2 new sisters, Almost immediately becoming as thick as thieves with Nia, Laras biological daughter, a bosmer only 1 year younger than him. His New older sister Ava had also been adopted by Lara, though they were actually biologically related. Ava was Lara’s niece and when her parents died it seemed only natural for Lara to take her in as her own. Ava was an Imperial, though she took heavily after her bosmer father and Khajiit grandfather. 

He looked up to both Lara and Ava immensely and emulated them as much as he could, especially Ava. Though aware of many of her flaws from the beginning he looked up to Ava as his savior, his older sister and one hell of an assassin.

If there was one thing Thera picked up from his new family it was their sense of irony and drama and quickly decided to pick up learning necromancy himself. He was encouraged to follow this interest by Lara, they were a family of dark brotherhood assassins after all, It’s not like a necromancer would stain the family name or anything. Besides Lara was quite the mage herself (as was most of the Latona family) and encouraged magical interests of any kind. He’s always proud to say that he even managed to teach his sisters a thing or 2 about magic. 

He spent his years on the Gold Coast completely refusing and rejecting Khajiit culture. They abandoned him, he would abandon it. He spoke in first person only, suppressed his accent as best he could and would never be heard spoking Ta’agra. He even went out of his way to learn a bit of Bosmeri so he could speak with his sisters in their native tongue. He wore nothing even resembling anything to a Khajiiti style. 

He only took the prefix Jo’ to his name because he liked the Irony of having earned the title through his use of profane magic. Also his friends and family could call him Jojo and that's just fun.

He joined the training Nia went through everyday to join the brotherhood (as did Ava before she officially joined) and was allowed to join a few years later at 15 years old. He took to large swords (and very large staffs) and flashy magic, after all not everyone wants quite quick assassination sometimes you want everyone and their moms to know this person is dead.

About a Year later, Nia ran away. 

Of course the whole family was devastated, Lara more than anyone else, but Jo’Thera was hurt in a special way. He knew something the other two would never quite figure out, why she did it. Nia never wanted to join the brotherhood and although she would never tell anyone but Jo’thera. She didn't think the other 2 would have understood that she DIDN’T want this, Jo’thera was aware that they absolutely would have. 

He had the objective standpoint that the others did not.

He was heart broken, but kept it to himself, not wanting to add fuel to that fire. He didn’t get mad until Nia started running her mouth and trashing the rest of the Latona family. He was spared the worst of it but he was still furious. 

After Nia left he and Ava had grown closer. They were friends before but now they were damn close to inseparable. Ava had by this point lost pretty much her entire family...twice and while her mother had pulled away after Nia’s departure he refused to leave her alone.

He was one of the only ones who really had the pulse on Ava’s slow but steady mental breakdown. 

He was also the only one who didn't just assume she killed herself after she disappeared and never stopped looking for her.

The moment he heard rumors about an odd Imperial woman running around Alinor he rushes his ass over their to look for her. He is completely correct and she is alive...though it took awhile to track her down. He didn't catch up to her until she was about to leave Valenwood for Reapers March, after she had found Nia. 

Jo’thera had stated before that he was more loyal to his family then the brotherhood, so when Ava said she wasn’t sure of she wanted to go back he was fucking read. Ripping up credit cards hes fucking ready. Well, after she confirmed she had no intention to let their mom think she was dead forever. She just wanted to “stay dead” for a little while. She just needed a break, and he could respect that, even if he doesn’t entirely approve of the how. She may not have been to the point of killing herself, but any idiot could see she was on her way to a complete mental break. She needed this in a way. 

His reunion with Nia broke his heart all over again. He was pissed and he let her know and didn’t hold back. Though they both followed their older sister after they all reunited the two of them didnt have a real conversation until Ava had left to try and regain her soul in cold harbor.

He may not forgive Nia completely, but they could at least have real conversations again. It's a start.

[tolkien-feels]

Hi hi omg I saw you say in a comment that you are one of the 3 people who likes Daeron (thank you for revealing yourself), I am also one of those 3 people. And I know at least 4 others so that's 6! Double!

Since your takes and headcanons are amazing can you please talk about him?

Oh there are so many of us!!! 🥺 (Also thank you for your nice words omg this ask has so much serotonin!)

Okay, so I prefer Daeron as Luthien's brother not because I'm opposed to his being in love with her, but because I adore the idea of Daeron taking after Thingol in many ways, and being less beloved for the damning character flaw of not being Melian 2.0 like his sister. But I'll ignore that and focus on the published Silm, because that is also a very good story in a completely different way.

There's something incredibly... pure? is maybe the right word,,,, about Daeron. I can name several cases in Tolkien where a man is in love with a woman who doesn't love him back, but I can think of no other where the woman actually thinks "Of every person I know, this is who I trust most when I need help." And Luthien isn't wrong to trust him? Other than denying her agency, which is admittedly a horrible thing to do, I have a hard time condemning Daeron? I don't know that I would want anyone I love marching straight to the Dark Lord for a person who is going to die anyway, be it in a few minutes or in a few years. Hell, Beren also doesn't Luthien to leave Doriath, he just underestimates her stubbornness and courage, which is not very surprising - between Daeron and Beren, the one who's known Luthien all her life is Daeron, after all.

The thing for me is that Daeron is out there being the best minstrel ever and a loremaster and a linguist and well-regarded in the fairest realm of Beleriand and Luthien's closest friend. This is definitely an uncommonly talented and socially powerful elf. If he had to """fall""", you'd expect it to be out of pride or something of that sort - we've read that story a thousand times in the Silm by the time Daeron becomes important. But his fall is actually a matter of either heartbreak or fearing for Luthien's fate.

I wouldn't even say Daeron falls as much as he... makes mistakes? I don't get the vibe of him having ruined any lives besides his own, and even that is debatable - after Beren comes into the picture, is there a possible happy ending Daeron can get? Maybe if he died for Luthien's sake he might have been happy-ish in Valinor, but that's pretty much it. (Here's a fun little au to ponder: Sauron vs Daeron)

The story very much identifies itself with Luthien, so Daeron comes across as a jealous, untrustworthy, controlling Nice Guy™️ but the couple of things he does in this one story shouldn't overshadow the centuries of him being, as far as we can tell, a genuinely great guy. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not an apologist, I don't take betrayal lightly, but for me that's what's interesting. A lot of Silm character tend to come in the flavors Basically Very Good and Basically Very Bad, with a few You're Doing Your Best But Things Aren't Looking Too Good. I literally don't know where Daeron fits into this. I try to find other characters who are remarkably good, mess up for ONE (01) story and then immediately regret everything and lament forever, and I just can't? Daeron speedruns Maglor's character arc, which is bizarre because Maglor's arc is all about living on and on and on.

I also think it's very telling that Tolkien says he wanders seeking Luthien "in despair." Is it just me who finds that a surprising word choice? He's not angry or bitter or even in pain, he's in despair. Even for an elf in unrequited love, that's pretty intense. It doesn't sound at all to me like we're meant to treat Daeron being in love as a mistake on his part, or as possessiveness. It sounds pretty legitimate, imho? Like I keep saying, for all that he's immortalized as the embodiment of betrayal, Daeron seems pretty damn sincere.

And finally, it isn't really connected to what I was saying but I find this pretty neat

Then she would become mortal, land subject to a second death, even as he; and ere long she would leave the world for ever, and her beauty become only a memory in song.

But seeking for Lúthien in despair he wandered upon strange paths, and passing over the mountains he came into the East of Middle-earth, where for many ages he made lament beside dark waters for Lúthien, daughter of Thingol, most beautiful of all living things.

I get so emotional thinking about how Daeron ultimately lives out the rest of his days offering Luthien one of the few things Beren can't give her, one of the few things that can make the loss of eternity less bitter. And!!! Daeron does that unseen by Luthien. Because she is with Beren. Which is exactly how this entire story began. Like, the parallels, I'm going to s c r e a m.

[soulmate-game]

Useful Part 2

fluff with a little hurt and comfort. If you want answers as to the lack of angst, look through my recent posts for an explanation. 

—* — * — * —* —* 

“Wait, you have a WHAT?” were the first words that the rest of the Gotham-based vigilantes heard when they finally were able to track down where Damian had gone. Dick looked over at Bruce, who was noticeably tense. No surprise there, the man had just found out that he had a second biological child. One who was apparently a superhero already, without his intervention, and also apparently had a tragic background in the League of fucking Assassin Assholes. Not to mention that Damian’s track record with meeting siblings wasn’t great, even if this one wasn’t actually new to him. Nobody had any real fear of Damian relapsing on his no-kill rule, they knew he had matured far too much to be at risk of killing for something as immature as sibling rivalry anymore. 

But there was still fear. Because this new Wayne was an Unknown Factor, and as a rule the Bats hated Unknown Factors. And they had no idea what the relationship between the two had been before they had been separated, or what it would become now. 

“That wasn’t Damian’s voice,” Dick helpfully pointed out the obvious. Bruce only frowned, doing his best (and failing) to hide his anxiety about what they would find. Silently, the group inched forward to the edge of the abandoned building they were on top of so that they could look over at what was happening. What they saw was a girl, presumably the same one who had been in a ladybug onesie and had fearlessly begun to ask them to leave Paris— until she had laid proper eyes on Robin and fled, that was. That girl was sitting down next to an unmasked Damian, who had his arm around her shoulders and let her lean into his side. He even smirked cheerfully at her question before continuing to speak to her. 

“A dragon-bat. I knew you’d love hearing about him, I’ll introduce you when you come visit the Batcave. His name is Goliath,” Damian admitted smugly. Despite the familiar attitude and pride behind his words though, his spying family couldn’t help but notice that he kept periodically rubbing the girl’s (they really needed to find out her name) shoulder in reassurance. None of them missed the tear tracks on both of their faces, or how red the girl’s eyes were. Clearly they had missed something big. 

But nobody wanted to try to figure that out yet. This scene was too precious, too breathtaking for them to interrupt just yet. They had never seen Damian this vulnerable around someone outside of their little circle before, someone from the Time Before Bruce, no less. Most of the time, only Nightwing was able to see this side to Damian. And usually the roles were reversed, with Damian being the one consoled. They had never seen him in the position of the comforter before. The pillar of support. 

It really cemented just how far he had come. 

So they watched silently as the girl flinched, pulling away a bit and hunching in on herself. The laugh she let out was small and overflowing with self-degradation. 

“You make it sound as if the rest of your family actually wants me to visit,” she replied sourly. Damian gently cuffed her over the head, frowning. 

“Two things,” he held up two fingers from his free hand. “One: They will. They accepted me, and I was— well, you remember how I used to be. Once they actually meet you, and process the fact that there’s another Wayne now, they will bombard you with more welcoming than you will know what to do with. Two: It’s Our family, Marinette. Not mine, ours.”

Well, at least they had a name now. But it seems like they had bigger issues now, like Marinette’s clearly damaged sense of self. Jason and Tim traded knowing glances; it wasn’t hard for them to guess where, or how, she might have been damaged enough to think so lowly of herself. 

They watched as Marinette shook her head. 

“I don’t know. It’s one thing to try to… to get to know you again. We used to be close before… everything,” she haltingly argued, voice small and frail and uncertain. But she never once looked away from Damian’s eyes, trying to convey as best as she could what she was feeling. “But they’re different. They don’t have any reason to trust or like me, Dami. And I’m bad at, well everything, but especially,” she waved her hands frantically as if indicating the whole situation they were in. “I mean, listen to me! I can barely articulate right now, and I’m talking to someone I’ve known my whole life! I’m a mess. Nobody wants a mess.” 

It was Damian’s turn to snort, and he pulled her right back into his side. “Please. If anything, that’s exactly the type of child Father goes looking for. We’re all a mess. Especially Father, trust me.” 

“You’re just trying to make me feel better,” she accused suspiciously, but sank into his sideways embrace anyway. Damian chuckled. 

“No, I’m being honest. He’s terrible at emotions, not that I really have much room to talk. We all are pretty bad with them. But he’s the most obvious when it comes to that issue,” Damian smirked over at his sister conspiratorially. “For example. He still tries to tell people that he works alone, and pushes people away because he has this intense desire to protect, but doesn’t know how to say “I don’t want you to get hurt, stop worrying me,” so instead he says “Go away, I don’t need you,” only for us to see through that nonsense and remind him that the amount of people in his team is in the double digits already. He doesn’t want to admit he cares about us and is vulnerable—”

“Sounds familiar,” Marinette teased with a watery grin, startling a short laugh from her twin. He nudged her a little roughly (but not to roughly) and playfully glared at her. Marinette just giggled.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he lied with a grin before waving his free hand in dismissal. “Anyway. Another example. He has no idea how to tell a stranger, “hey, I’m your father and I will not reject you. In fact, I’m completely willing to adopt you right this moment and whisk you away to Gotham and relative safety and hire an entire team of therapists to help you and buy you half the world if you asked for it,” so instead he and the rest of our emotionally constipated family just lurks on the edge of a building in broad daylight eavesdropping on us and expects us not to notice.” 

“Wait what,” Marinette’s gaze instantly whipped up towards the sky, taking only half a second to locate the aforementioned eavesdroppers. Everyone except Bruce at least had the courtesy to duck down and pretend not to be there when they noticed she had seen them, leaving Batman standing seemingly alone on the concrete roof. Marinette blinked once. Twice. Then turned to Damian. “I’m gonna blame the fact that I didn’t notice them on emotional turmoil, because there is no way I’ve gotten THAT rusty.” 

Damian smiled, but didn’t laugh. He knew that was a deflection to try and distract from Marinette’s quickly resurging self-consciousness. Her hands were already trembling again, and the fear from only minutes ago had resurfaced. The insecurity. He could practically see the words “I’m not good enough,” written in her irises. 

“You’ll be fine,” he whispered, standing up and pulling her with him. “If anyone has to worry here, it’s me.” 

“What the hell are you talking about?” Marinette whisper-hissed right back, eyes wide in disbelief and confusion. “You’re— You! Mister Perfect!” 

Damian rolled his eyes, and his self-deprecating smirk matched the laugh Marinette had given just a few minutes earlier. “For the League, maybe,” he shrugged. “Never the Wayne family. Which is why I know you’ll be fine. If they put up with everything I’ve done and still call me one of them, they’ll accept you with barely a second thought.” 

Marinette’s next argument was cut off by the sound of a dozen soft footfalls stirring up dirt not far ahead of them. The BatClan had landed from the rooftop. 

Marinette gulped. 

But if there was one thing— one thing she still remembered from her days as Marie Al-Ghul, it was how to fake pride and confidence. She straightened her shoulders automatically, lifted her chin, and pulled away from Damian’s supporting arm around her shoulder. Damian let her. 

A little bit of old resentment flared up in him as he saw Batman walk up close enough to comfortably talk with them. Resentment that he no longer held onto, but that had haunted him nearly every night of the first two years he spent with his dad. The realization that maybe his twin was the one that was meant to be a Wayne. Marie had the blue eyes, the compassion, the more specifically detective-oriented mind. The calm head. Sometimes. Marie was exactly who he imagined when he thought of a naturally born member of the BatClan. Stubborn, clever, morally just. She had risked immediate death just because she refused to fight him, for crying out loud. Because she didn’t want to hurt the boy who used to be her best friend. The only ally she had ever had, growing up. 

Meanwhile, he still had issues reigning in his anger sometimes. He had too much blood on his hands, he was more of a battlefield tactician than a long-term strategist. Still stubborn, but also completely unaware of the pain he brought others with his words or actions a lot of the time. He used to be such a rage fueled little demon, and thinking about how his sister fit the classic Wayne outline more thoroughly than he did had made him destroy more than a few practice dummies in frustration. 

But now, looking at Marinette trying so hard to appear strong and proud when he knew she was still so shattered inside, relief overpowered the old and dull resentment. This was what she needed, he could sense that easily. She, just like him all those years ago, needed Bruce and the others to start to heal her and reforge what the League had badly molded. 

“... Marinette, I suppose?” Damian nearly facepalmed at his father’s awkward attempt at a conversation starter. Marinette herself was clearly too keyed up and overthinking things to even register any amusement at the lame attempt, merely nodding with an overly serious expression on her face. 

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Monsieur Wayne. Or that’s my name nowadays, that is,” She stumbled a little in her response before clenching her fists and forcing herself to continue as calmly as she could muster up. “My birth name was Marie Al-Ghul.” 

Bruce’s eyebrows visibly furrowed underneath his cowl. “Was?” 

“I…” Marinette finally looked away, shame creeping back onto her face. “I was explicitly told that I was stripped of the Al-Ghul name and would be killed if I ever dared lay claim to it again. So I not-so-legally changed it. And I was later adopted.” 

Several sharp gasps or the hiss of breath through teeth bit through the quiet breeze. Nobody was necessarily surprised, Marinette could see it when she looked through her eyelashes and examined the winces and sympathy on the faces of the vigilantes before her. Batman’s shoulders were stiff, as if someone had paralyzed only his shoulder blades. 

“And the people who adopted you?” Batman pursued. Marinette couldn’t read his tone very well, but it sounded vaguely angry so she quickly raised her hands in a placating gesture and her eyes widened significantly. 

“They’ve been amazing! They don’t know anything about my past, or who raised me, but they are endlessly patient with me. I mean, honestly! Sabine caught me when I was trying to steal one of her gold bracelets in Hong Kong— and I know I’ve never been as good of a combatant as Dami, but I’ve always been better at sleight of hand and stealth so honestly that’s impressive— and she saw my dirty eight-year-old face and for some reason decided, ‘yeah I want this one as my daughter’ and roped Tom right into it and next thing I know they somehow tailed me to my hideout? I still don’t know how the hell they managed that, but Tom had a huge plate of steaming buns and I was so hungry and suddenly it’s two years later and I’m adopted and we’re on a plane to Paris—” Marinette threw up her hands. “I still don’t fully grasp what happened sometimes.” 

She belatedly seemed to realize that she had just gone on an entire breathless rant at the speed of sound, and slapped her hands over her mouth before lunging into a deep bow. “I apologize! I spoke horridly out of turn!” 

To her surprise though, she was met with a soft laugh instead of a scolding. She jerked in surprise, whipping her head up only to see Batman holding a hand over his chin to hide his large grin. It only took another second for the boys behind him to laugh a lot LESS softly. Nightwing strolled over casually and swung an arm around both her and Damian’s shoulders, playfully nudging her brother with his knee. 

“I think she fits right in, don’t you little D?” 

“Of course,” Damian scoffed, though his eyes were playful. “She is a Wayne by blood. She ‘fits in’ more than you strays.” 

“Dami!” Marinette whipped back to him and puffed out her cheeks. “That was uncalled for!” she barked. Damian held his hands up in surrender. 

“Relax,” he said as soothingly as he could manage. “They know I’m joking,” he dropped his hands and a knowing smirk took over his face. “And besides, now you’re relaxed so my plan worked,” Marinette could only blink at that. She… did feel more relaxed, actually. “Also. I told you you’d be accepted easily. They already consider you one of us.” 

“Wha— there’s no way—” she frantically looked at each of the older men around her, but each of them just shot her a smile or grin and a short nod. Her shoulders and jaw both fell, and it broke a little of everyone’s heart. 

Marinette looked so utterly shocked, bewildered to be accepted as if it was still something profoundly foreign to her. And there was that disbelief in her eyes, that distrust that screamed that she expected some sort of lie here. That told that she thought this would all crumble away at any second. If anyone had any reservations about bringing her into their inner circles, it vanished right that moment. She needed support, or she’d crumble away and they all knew it. 

“How about we start by talking about the situation with Hawkmoth?” Red Robin spoke up, walking forward to stand beside Batman. “I assume that’s a little more in your element?” 

Damian silently vowed to thank Tim later for that. In a silent, completely anonymous way of course. Couldn’t have Tim thinking they were friends or something now, could he? Marinette instantly straightened up and nodded, her confidence returning with a little more sincerity this time. 

“Yeah. Yeah, let me transform again. It’ll be easier to explain.” 

—*—*—*—*—*

It was three weeks later, on Marinette’s third now-weekly visit to the Batcave, when the question finally came up. Jason had asked to spar with Marinette for the first time, having seen her in action as Ladybug and wanting to test the girl when she didn’t have superpowers to rely on. Damian hadn’t been down in the cave to warn him, and the result was Jason’s gut sinking as Marinette scrambled as far away from him as she could, eyes wide and chest heaving in the beginnings of a panic attack. 

“Shit,” Jason muttered before he quickly knelt down and did his best to talk her down, to calm her until her breathing slowed and her pupils were back to normal. It wasn’t long afterwards that Marinette started hugging herself, refusing to look at him. But he wasn’t going to just back down, he wanted to solve this issue. If even the mere suggestion of a spar was enough to set her off, he needed to figure out why and fix it. 

So he carefully lowered himself so he was sitting only a foot away from her, resting his arms across his knees casually. 

“Sorry,” he apologized. “Didn’t think it would be a sore subject. That’s on me.” 

Marinette just shrugged, but didn’t answer him. She just buried her face in her arms and took a shaky breath. 

Jason let the silence linger for a while before trying again. “Does this have to do with certain Asshole Assassins?” 

That startled a slightly hysterical bark of laughter from her, and she had to wipe away a few tears when she raised her head and finally turned it in his direction slightly. Not enough for her to be looking at him,  but just a subtle turn to show that she was listening and speaking to him. “Yeah.” 

“You know, you never told us why you got disowned,” Jason tried to make his words as casual as possible, but wasn’t surprised when Marinette still stiffened and took a sharp breath. He didn’t push. The stage was set, and he’d wait until either she took the opportunity to open up or told him to leave well enough alone. Her tongue flicked out to wet her lips, and her foot tapped on the ground a bit. Clear signs of her anxiety around the subject, and Jason’s hopes vanished a little. He would probably have to wait longer for her to be ready to share.

But, to his pleasant surprise, he was wrong. She took another few minutes to gather her thoughts, but she did eventually open up to him. 

“I refused to fight Damian,” she admitted. “It was… We were seven. It wasn’t supposed to be a fight to the death, but it was a very important spar. We were using live weaponry, and we were told to fight until we couldn’t anymore. Whoever fell first would be relegated as a mere soldier, and have to fight for status like any other assassin in the League. The winner would officially be named as G— as Ra’s Heir. I didn’t want to fight, because I knew Damian would win but I also knew that it wouldn’t be as easy as Ra’s probably expected if I gave it my all like he wanted. I knew both Damian and I would be heavily injured if I did as he asked, and it wouldn’t be worth it. If I misjudged anything, any single hit, I could have accidentally injured Damian permanently and ruined his worth in Ra’s eyes, and that wasn’t an option. I didn’t care that throwing the fight was as good as giving up my life, because at least I could be sure that Damian kept his. I could make sure that he was treated well, or as well as anyone could hope for in the League anyway. I could, with only a few words, make sure he became indispensable. Ra’s and Talia never liked me as much as Damian anyway, I figured… I figured it was nobody’s loss,” She swallowed heavily, clenching her eyes shut. “I was always just the spare. The extra. Damian was their crown prince, the one with actual value. Even to me. I saw him, and I saw everything I wanted to be. I… I tossed down my weapons and let him stab me, because I figured I owed it to him for being such a failure in comparison to him. That I owed it to him to do everything I could to make things easier for him, since I was just an unnecessary obstacle—” strong arms wrapped around her, and she turned to sob into Jason’s chest as he just silently held her. 

“Idiot,” Damian whispered, making Marinette jump. Her twin sat only a few feet away, though only Jason would have known when exactly he had gotten there with them. He shook his head at her. “I never would have gotten as far as I did without you,” he whispered, looking up at the cave ceiling. “You were the only real rival I had. When you left, everything was either too easy or nearly impossible, nothing was the same as trying my best against someone who was just as good as me. And when I got here and met the others, I didn’t think any of them were worthy of taking your position, you know,” he scoffed a bit as he got lost in his memories. “That’s why I hated Tim for so long, I think. He reminded me of you so much that I wanted nothing more than to punch him for daring to replace you—”

“Heh, the Replacement twice over, huh?” Jason joked. Damian chuckled with a small eye roll. 

“Plus, he just has a really punchable face,” Damian added, trying to distract from the emotion behind everything he had just admitted. “Part of me thought you were dead. The other part refused to believe that. And seeing Tim and how some of his mannerisms were the same as yours,” Damian shrugged a little. “It stung. Especially that second year, when I started to regret that you never had the chance to come here and join them with me. Meet them with me.” 

Marinette sniffled. “... Who are you and what have you done with Dami? He’s never this sappy.” 

Damian flicked a pebble at her head with a good natured glare, successfully diffusing the serious air a little. Marinette wouldn’t ever be normal, and it would take a while before she was no longer fragile, but she could get there. Especially now that her bridges with her brother had been mended, and and a whole new family had cropped up to help support her. 

She was glad Damian had convinced her to try, again.  

[literaila]

sweet sweet relief

spencer reid x reader

request: do a Reidxreader where the reader is hotch’s younger sibling? They’d be new to the bau and hotch is over protective and reluctant to let them do anything. Due to their young age they get super close to Reid, maybe fluffy or angsty? Thank you!

Warning: angsty (kinda), BAU stuff...

The first time Y/N had met the team they could barely tell the two of them were related. 

They were nothing alike. 

It wasn't even just outside appearances, they were different, in character, in shape, in every form possible. 

Aaron Hotchner was calm and quiet, he was known to be stern and sophisticated, he worked actively to stay in control. He was cautious and careful. He was the epitome of undisturbed.

Y/N Hotchner was not. 

She was feisty and stubborn, and she would rather argue with someone than submit to them, and she was lively and sarcastic and known to be impatient. 

There were barely any similarities between the two. 

But they were both smart, and they both had a mindset for justice, both believe that everyone deserves a chance to prove themselves, that everyone had a right to feel safe in their world. They both believed that by removing just a little bit of the darkness within the world, just a little bit, it would make everything brighter.

But besides that, they were two completely different people. 

It was a surprise to everyone that they were related. 

That two people so completely different could share the same DNA. 

So when Y/N walked into the conference room, a little later than Hotch had requested, all of his team members shared confused glances at the smirk Hotch had on his face, at the almost-hug he had given this girl. 

She looked far too young to be his girlfriend. 

Hotch turned around to 6 pairs of confused eyes, 6 people with questions, 6 people who looked very very intimidating to Y/N.

 She’d heard all about Aaron's team, she’d heard about the lovely technical analysis, the eldest profiler who had a kick for jokes, she’d heard about Derek, the strongest member of the team, she’d heard about Emily and her history in crime, JJ who’d been the top in her class, and the genius who was only 3 years older than her. 

She’d heard about all of them. 

That didn't mean she was any less nervous to meet them. 

And with the way they were looking at her like they already wished she was gone, her nerves shot through her body. 

She couldn't help but turn to her brother, her eyes cast downward, and hope that he knew she needed help. Hoped that he knew her just enough to know when she was nervous. 

“This is Agent Y/N Hotch. Strauss assigned her as a new addition to our team.”

There was more collective confusion around the room. 

“Hotch?” Morgan asked, Y/N looked up at him, to see him frowning at her, she wondered why he cared that much, wondered why he was bothered by her, why he looked like he could tell exactly what she was thinking.

“Yes.” she answered back quickly, and sternly, like she was telling him as a favor, “Aaron is my brother.” 

There was a gasp from across the room. 

A blonde woman, with bizarre earrings and questionable clothes, walked over to Y/N, a wide smile on her face as she looked at Hotch with hopeful eyes. 

“Sister?” she asked, almost like she was being given a gift Y/N thought. 

Hotch only nodded. 

Her smile got wider. 

She embraced Y/N, pulling her into a quick hug like they’d known each other forever. Y/N felt some nerves escape her at the hug, at least one person didn't hate her already. 

“Hotch didn't tell me he had a sister, it makes sense though, you’re so pretty.” She pulled back to smile at Y/N, she had bright energy, one that reminded Y/N of a friend back home, her smile was contagious. 

“Y/N, this is Penelope Garica, the technical analyst I told you about.” 

“It's lovely to meet you.” Y/N said laughing, as Penelope pulled her into another hug, she already had a special place in her heart for the blonde. 

“You have a sister?” Derek asked, and Y/N looked over Penelope’s shoulder to see his face much more relaxed, less threatening, she immediately placed him as the man Aaron had told her about, the strong one. 

“Yes, I do. I never told anyone for security reasons, and there's never been a need to bring it up.” Hotch looked at his little sister with pride, he was glad she was there, glad he was going to get to spend some more time with her, glad she had made it so far so early in her career. 

“Plus, he didn't want to brag.” Y/N teased, making eye contact with Derek as a way to say she didn't mean any harm, as a way to let him know she wasn't going to be a problem. 

He smiled at her. She smiled back. 

“I’m Derek Morgan.” 

After that, three other people came up to her, with warm smiles, all introducing themselves, JJ who seemed warm and paternal. Emily, who looked to Y/N like a rebel at heart, she smiled a little extra at that. And Rossi, who immediately told her she was a part of the family, “Any family member of Aaron’s is a family member of ours.” 

It felt strange to be accepted by all of them so quickly, strange to feel so comfortable so quickly. 

And then she was introduced to Spencer. 

It took her heart a moment to force her to move. 

She’d heard about Spencer, the man who was closest to her age, the smartest man Aaron had said he’d ever met, the Doctor with three PhDs. 

He was utterly attractive. 

Nerves shot up and down her body, reminding her of the fear she had prepared herself for, though this time it was a different type of fear. 

She had not prepared for soft brown eyes and messy hair. 

She had not prepared for him to be anything like he was. 

Fuck. 

He was exactly her type. 

She shyly smiled at him, and he waved, just waved, unlike the handshakes she had gotten from everyone else, something in her mind was telling her not to question it. 

With a blush on her cheeks she looked away, she looked away and reminded herself that she was there to work, that her boss was her brother, that even if she did immediately want to know everything about the doctor only ten feet away from her, that this was work. 

She stayed silent for a couple of moments. 

Her brother announced it was time to get started on the case.

***

It had taken a couple of weeks to get used to the job. 

Aaron had warned her as much. 

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he’d asked as soon as she’d announced she was moving out to Virginia, moving to work with the FBI. Y/N had taken it as judgment, she thought he didn't think she could do the job, didn't think she was strong enough, didn't think she was mature enough to handle the BAU. 

She’d immediately run to her own defense, “I’ve been sure for almost 3 years Aaron.” 

“No, Y/N, I didn't mean it like that. It's just… this job takes a toll on a person. Are you sure you want to do it?” 

There hadn't been a doubt in her mind, had not been a moment of hesitation, a moment of wondering if she was really strong enough, if she really dared to do what her brother did every day, there was never a question of if she thought she could do it. 

It hadn't even taken her a moment to answer yes. 

But, this time, Aaron had been right. 

Seeing dead bodies, learning about different methods of insanity, diving into the mind of people who were sadistic, not saving everyone. It was all heartbreaking. 

And exhausting. 

Y/N was starting to understand what her brother had meant, what he was thinking of when he said it took a toll on people, she was starting to wonder how he dealt with it, how he went every day being the boss and not breaking down while dealing with what they dealt with. 

She was starting to wonder how they all dealt with it. 

Most days, none of them seemed bothered, none of them seemed to mind any of it. She tried to remind herself that they had all been doing it a lot longer than she had, that they had seen everything a million times, that they had gone through the worst things she could imagine. It didn't help her feel any better. 

She wasn't going to quit though, she could feel it in her blood, in her heart, that she was doing the right thing. That this is what she was meant to do, that no matter how many people died, no matter how many terrible people there were, she was saving someone's life. 

And she was good at it. 

She kept her head held high and tried not to show any hesitancy. 

The night right after the case, one that had been particularly different from the others she’d seen, she felt practically dead on her feet. She wondered if she’d have to get used to the constant sleep deprivation. 

It was late that night when she overheard Spencer talking to JJ, who looked about five seconds away from becoming the next unsub. 

Y/N laughed behind them and wondered what he was talking about. 

In the 6 weeks she’d been there she’d gotten close to most of them, she’d learned about their lives, about the way they worked best, she learned how smart they all were, how amazed she was by them. But she hadn't gotten the chance to speak that might to Spencer. 

Maybe she didn't want to. 

Maybe she didn't want to feel herself slip under the coworker crush that she was familiar with, maybe she didn't want to learn about him, things about him that she would think about constantly, maybe she didn't want to get close to him in fear that someone might notice how taken back she was by him, maybe she didn't want her brother- and her boss -to find out about the crush she had on him. 

Maybe. 

Maybe all she wished for was some relief from the overwhelming feelings she felt for him.

She was thinking about him, thinking about ways to accidentally eavesdrop on the two of them without looking suspicious, when JJ noticed her. 

“Oh hey, Y/N” JJ looked exactly how Y/N felt. Her eyes were practically closed. 

Y/N pretended not to notice the way Spencer looked away from her. 

“Hey,” she said quietly, giving a little wave as she walked to the elevator doors. Home. That's where she wanted to be. 

“Spencer was just inviting me to a movie he recorded at his apartment that he was going to watch-” JJ said, as Spencer tried to interrupt her, she just gave him a stern look when he tried. “-but I need to get home to Henry, so maybe you could go with him instead?” 

There was a gleam in her eyes and a smirk on her mouth, if Spencer and Y/N both weren't so obvious they would’ve known what she was doing.

The team had been trying to set them up for a month. 

Y/N just stared confused, nerves running up and down her spine reminding her to breathe. She suddenly felt wide awake. 

Spencer just looked conflicted. 

‘Um- yeah” he cleared his throat, running his hands over his hair and down to his neck “yeah- you could come... Yeah.” he said, moving to glare at JJ for a moment, JJ who was smiling wide, knowing that Spencer would never take back the invitation- especially not for a pretty girl. 

“Oh.” Y/N jumped in surprise, her heart was beating faster at the prospect of going with Spencer, and while she knew that he had not technically invited her, she still felt her body practically shout with excitement. “Yeah, of course, I’d love to.” she stopped for a moment trying to collect herself, trying not to look as surprised as she felt, “if it's alright with you.” 

They all stood there in the elevator, listening to the quiet hum of the machinery, two of them looking awkwardly at the ground, both of them full of nerves, one of them smiling between the two of them. 

As the elevator finally came to a stop Spencer spoke up again. 

“Yeah, if you want I could- you could just- follow me… if you want.” 

Y/N nodded quickly, not used to Spencer talking to her directly. 

JJ smiled just a little bit wider, just a little, and waved them both goodbye, turning around before saying “I’ll let you both deal with that.”. 

She couldn't wait to tell Penelope. 

And then there were two.  

Two, very socially inept, nervous, people. 

***

Spencer's apartment was just as Y/N had expected it to be, it was small and warm, and there were a million lamps all around the space. It was filled to the brim with bookshelves, at least 5 of them all around the room making it look smaller than it was. In the corner of the room there was a small couch and a tv, Y/N could see books spread all over the coffee table, and multiple mugs sitting around the room. 

It felt like his home. 

Y/N adored it. 

Though Spencer looked around nervously, his eyes uncomfortably noticing all of the things he’d forgotten to pick up, all the books he’d left out. 

“So um- this is it.” 

Y/N giggled a little at that. 

Her car ride over there had been filled with doubts and insecurities, she had noticed how distant Spencer had been with her, how little effort he had made to get to know her. Out of all of her new friends he was the least welcoming. 

She still felt drawn to him. She still felt like she needed to get to know him. 

It was the craziest feeling. 

On her way over she had decided she would get to know him, just so she could count herself as a friend, just so she could start looking past him, start looking at everyone else instead of constantly being focused on him. 

“Okay. Do you have popcorn?” Y/N said breaking the silence they had been surrounded in. 

It earned Y/N her first smile. 

She was amazed. 

She wanted to keep making him smile. 

Spencer gestured for her to follow him to the kitchen while he put a bag of something- which she assumed was popcorn as she had asked -in the microwave. It felt just a little bit more comfortable now, almost like they weren't going to have the worst time together.

“So uh- how are you um-” Spencer cleared his throat, clearly out of his bounds. “How are you enjoying the BAU? I knew that- um- when I first started I was really nervous.” 

Y/N felt a bit darker at his words. Did she tell him how she really felt, about the doubts she’d been having? Or did she lie through her teeth? Lie to the man who had given her his first smile, lie to the man who had invited her over? 

Turns out she didn't have to answer that question, as Spencer answered it for her like he did most questions. 

“Oh no. Did I- um… Did I say something wrong? I’m sorry I didn't mean-”  

“What?” she said quickly “No you didn't say anything wrong…” 

Spencer stared at her, waiting for her to continue, he felt like she had more to say. 

“It's just I… I don't know I’m just not-” she threw her hands up and sighed, surprised by her own reaction, she didn't want to throw all of her problems at Spencer, especially when it was their first time even having a full conversation out of work. 

“Is there something wrong?” he said quietly, trying to read her body language to gauge her reaction. 

“I just-” she sighed again and put her head in her hands. “I can't explain.” 

Spencer nodded. He just stared at her a little bit longer, he had read somewhere that if you leave silence between conversations, most of the time the question would be answered all on its own. 

After a couple of seconds waiting he could clearly see this wasn't the case with Y/N. 

“Okay. What if I ask questions… and you answer?” 

Y/N looked up, “like an interrogation?” 

Spencer smiled a little bit and nodded, he was glad she seemed open to the idea. 

“Okay.”. 

They spent the night like that, Spencer had learned all about Y/N just through asking questions. 

The movie was forgotten. 

Y/N had come clean about her worries, about her hesitations with their job, Spencer had practically pulled the truth out of her after seeing past all the empty answers she gave his questions. 

It was infuriating how much he could read her. 

Eventually, they had switched, and Y/N had asked the questions for a little while. 

She had learned about Spencer's mom, had learned about his love for all things sweet, had learned about his favorite books, and had learned a lot more about practically everything than she ever had in school. 

It was almost addicting. 

They switched back and forth for hours, eventually moving to the couch, asking each other questions and laughing. 

It was almost two in the morning. 

Earlier Y/N had felt like she was going to fall asleep standing. 

Now she felt wide awake. 

She thought about how the morning would turn out, how much they both needed sleep, and eventually said, “I should probably go.” 

The smile Spencer was wearing fell just a fraction of an inch, and Y/N immediately felt terrible. 

“I think we both need some sleep.,” she said, trying to communicate that she didn't actually want to go, but she definitely didn't want to fall asleep at her desk the next day. 

Spencer walked to the door and smiled. 

He smiled. 

She wondered how hard it was going to be to stay away from him now. 

***

“Aaron she was going to die!” 

“Y/N, you can't throw yourself into situations like that.” 

A year later she had no doubts about her job. 

No hesitations. 

Nothing but the need to save as many victims as possible. 

Cases in Virginia were always the most stressful, with Strauss breathing down their necks, the media wanting to know everything about the FBI that was located in the state. 

They all hated it. 

They much preferred to go out of state, somewhere with none of their families, none of their problems constantly chasing them down. It was always so much calmer when they weren't home. 

Always so much easier. 

And maybe running directly into danger wasn't the best way to relieve stress. 

Y/N knew that. 

But she also knew how scared that girl must have felt, she knew how deadly the gun in the unsubs hand was, and she knew that it was her job, not just as an FBI agent, but also as a person, to do something. To do anything to save a little girl's life. 

She wasn't going to stop to think about her own life in a moment like that. 

She had rushed into the house, rushed into the place where so many other little girls had died, rushed into the place with a man almost three times her size, a man who was holding a gun. She wasn't going to risk that little girl's life. 

And she was fine, and that little girl was alive.

To her, that was worth more than a million praises from anyone. 

It wasn't enough for Hotch though. 

The minute they had gotten back to the office, the second Y/N had tried to sit down at her desk, the minute she had tried to say anything to Spencer, that was the minute Hotch pulled her away, furious, into his office. 

She already knew she was in trouble. 

He had sat her down, he had repeated exactly what he had said when she arrived at the unsubs house, alone, he repeated his exact orders to her, repeated the orders that she had deliberately disobeyed. 

“Aaron. She needed my help!” 

“Y/N you can't risk your life! And you definitely can't ignore a direct order.” 

Both of them had scowls on their faces, and at that moment they looked exactly like siblings, looked so similar it was hard to tell them apart. 

The rest of the team was sitting in their desks, listening to them fight, pretending to be filling out late reports, but mostly listening to the two siblings fighting. 

Garcia was standing outside the door, waiting for something to happen. She didn't want anything bad to happen to her best friend. She didn't want them to fight at all. 

Spencer nervously looked from the door to his desk over and over, waiting for one of them to walk out, waiting for the yelling to continue. He knew that his girlfriend was probably freaking out internally, trying to control her anger as she had to do many times with her brother. He knew that what she needed right now wasn't a reprimand, what she needed was reassurance. He had no idea how he could get that to her. 

“Aaron. I am good at my job. I got her out of there. Safely.” Y/N said sternly, refusing to back down, even for a moment, refusing to admit that what she did was reckless, refusing to admit her life meant anything more than that little girl. 

“But at what cost Y/N? What if you had gotten hurt-” 

“I didn't.” 

“Or died? What would that mean for us?” He asked, looking at her, his eyes hard and unmoving. 

Their stubbornness was always something they had shared. 

“Aaron. I knew what I was doing. I had to save her.” 

“It was reckless Y/N.” 

“Maybe it was. Maybe, it was. But I’m fine, she's fine, we’re all fine.” she reassured him by gesturing to the door, why didn't he understand that she couldn't not go in there?

“I can't have you acting like that. I can't have you not listening to my orders.” 

“Is that what this is about? Me disobeying you?” Y/N asked in shock, shock because it almost felt like he was trying to control her, trying to show her that he was still older than her. “Because news flash Aaron, I’m not some little kid you’re in charge of anymore.” 

“I’m your boss.” 

“I had to do it!” she said finally. 

“It was stupid. It was stupid and reckless, and I have no idea what you were thinking.” His words were final and stern. His face was angry, and he was clenching his fists. It looked like he wanted to say more but Y/N wasn't going to let him. She wasn't going to let him call her names, and treat her like she wasn't an adult.

Y/N was done, she was done trying to be calm, done trying to keep all her feelings hidden deep in her chest, done trying to pretend she didn't want to throw something at him, she was done. 

“I’m not a little girl Aaron!” she yelled at him, walking away. “I can take care of myself, and I know what I’m doing. Maybe that's not good enough for you, but it's good enough for me.” 

And she threw open the door, too angry to care about Penelope who was standing shocked in front of her. She rushed to her desk and started throwing things in her bag, mumbling under her breath. 

“Y/N?” Someone said from behind her. 

She sighed. 

“What Spence?” she said quietly, feeling like giving up. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, grabbing her arm and trying to get her to look at him. If she looked at him he would know how she was actually feeling, without having to guess. 

She looked up and studied his eyes. 

“He's being ridiculous!” she whisper-yelled looking back down at her desk. “I did the right thing and I’m fine. He's just mad because I didn't listen.” 

Spencer watched her for a few moments. 

“Maybe he's right,” he said quietly, his eyes looking worried and surprised, surprised because he hadn't meant to say the words out loud. 

Y/N’s head snapped up. Her eyes looked deadly. 

“What?” she said quietly, more quietly than she had been in the past 10 minutes. 

“Y/N I just think that-” 

She cut him off. “No Spencer. You’re supposed to take my side. You’re supposed to have my back. Jesus-” she said sadly grabbing her bag from her desk and throwing it over her shoulder. “You’re my boyfriend and you’re supposed to support me.” 

“Y/N I do I just-” 

He couldn't get anything else out. 

“You’re supposed to support me,” she said desperately, giving him one last look, one filled with anger and doubt and sadness, and all the feelings she had no idea how to express, she gave him one last look and 

She walked out the door. 

***

Driving was a helpful coping mechanism. 

Driving helped Y/N ease her mind. Helped her think things through. 

She knew she shouldn't have yelled at Aaron and Spencer like that, she knew she had overreacted. And she knew that to some degree they were right. 

She hated how protective both of them were. 

She loved how protective both of them were. 

It was a difficult car ride, she was doubting herself, doubting her instincts, doubting her efficiency as an agent, doubting if her brother and boyfriend believed in her. 

She knew she overreacted. 

But Aarons words had hurt, he had insulted her, and even if he’d had reason to, it still hurt her feelings. 

Spencer was a different story. She’d automatically assumed he would agree with her, would agree that the little girl's life was worth more than any risk, would agree that Hotch was being harsh. 

She’d forgotten how angry he could get when she ran right into danger. 

She was driving and her palms were sweaty, and her stomach was being attacked by anxiety, and she had no idea how to talk to either of them. 

All she knew was that she had to. 

She had to get over her feelings, she had to think about them.

So she drove back. Slowly. As slow as she could go, but she drove back. 

When she parked her car she felt like turning around, she felt like a little kid again about to go tattle on her brother to her mom, felt like she was the victim and the abuser all at once, and felt an overwhelming amount of emotions fill her to the core. 

She walked inside. It took her a moment to remember how to get back to her desk. 

It was irresponsible for her to leave in the first place. 

When she walked through the doors of the BAU you noticed Spencer's absent desk, she noticed her other coworkers staring at her, their eyes a bit hopeful. She looked at them confused. 

“Reid went to the bathroom. Don't worry pretty girl, he didn't leave.” Morgan said, reading the question in her eyes, watching her exhale in relief. 

She smiled at him and walked towards Hotch's office. 

She had been gone almost 2 hours, and technically she knew that everyone could have leftover half an hour ago, but she also knew all of them, and she knew how late they’d stay. 

She knocked on her brother's door, regret pooling at her stomach, air filling her head. 

There was a quiet “come in” from the other side.

She peeked inside his office, saw him scribbling on a piece of paper, and as soon as he looked up Y/N felt a million times smaller. She always felt smaller when she was in trouble. Though when she looked at her brother's eyes all she could see was relief. 

“I’m glad you’re back,” he said, looking back down at his papers, clearing his throat, clearly a sign that she could come in. 

So she did. 

She walked over to his desk and sat in one of his empty chairs. She watched him write for a minute, thinking of something to say, thinking about all the times she’d had to apologize to him in the past. 

“Aaron.” 

“Hmm?” he said looking up at her again. 

“I’m-” she paused, paused, and took a deep breath. He deserved an apology. “I’m sorry.” 

She saw his jaw twitch, saw a flicker in his eyes, saw a drastic change in posture. 

“I know,” he said. 

She sighed in relief. She knew he wasn't mad anymore. 

“I know I overreacted. I know it was stupid what I did. I won't do it again, I just- I just had to do something. That's all.” She hoped that was a good enough explanation, hoped it would make him forgive her, hoped her mistake could cost her in the future. She looked down at her hands, not wanting to see his reaction. She hated apologizing.

“It wasn't stupid,” Hotch said, putting his pen down. She looked up at him slowly. 

“What?” 

“It wasn't stupid. I’m sorry I said that. I understand what you had to do.”

More relief, making its way up her feet, and into her stomach, relief filling her chest with cool air, seizing the fire of anxiety in her chest. Sweet, sweet relief. 

“But that doesn't mean you can ignore my orders” He added, and Y/N felt herself smile. He was teasing her, she saw a glimpse of the brother she used to- still -idolized. 

“Sir, yes sir,” she whispered, moving to stand up. She had another person to apologize to. As she walked away her brother spoke again, 

“Y/N?” she nodded, looking back at him. “Don't be too hard on him,” he said gesturing outside, where Spencer was back at his desk, staring at the bag on top of Y/N’s. 

She smiled at him and looked over at her brother. “I won't.” 

She almost walked away again “Aaron, you should go home.” he looked back up at her “go say hi to my nephew for me. “ 

And with that, she walked out the door, walked away too fast to see him smile at her. 

The relief was invading her brain, making her next decisions for her. 

She would have to thank it later. 

She walked out the door and over to Spencer's desk, Spencer who looked surprised she was actually there. 

She grabbed his arm and pulled him up. 

“Hey-” 

She kept pulling him, moving both of them into an empty storage room, while the rest of the team laughed at her antics. 

As soon as she made it into the small space with him, as soon as he looked down into her eyes, his face entirely a question, her nerves entirely seized. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Spencer frowned at her. He frowned and opened his mouth in a silent question. 

“I’m sorry for overreacting. I shouldn't have taken out my anger on you. It was unfair.” She said, searching his eyes for forgiveness. 

They didn't fight often, barely fought at all, but every time they had she had always found the answer to her problem in his eyes. His eyes seemed to know everything. 

She wondered if they knew how much she loved him. 

“No, Y/N I should’ ve-” 

She pulled him into a kiss, resting her hands in his hair as he moved his to her cheeks, as she held her apart as she kissed him, her lips an entirely different apology of their own. 

Sweet sweet relief. 

When she pulled back, just enough to see his face, she watched him sigh in bliss, watched the tiny smile on his face, watched his eyes open with amazement. 

She wondered when she had last kissed him like that. 

It seemed like too long. 

She pulled him back in, giving him small pecks on his lips, and then his cheek, and then his neck. Smiling at the way he giggled when she tickled him with her hair. 

“Y/N?” he said after a moment, his voice warm. 

She looked back up at him to smile, to smile and peck his lips once more as an answer. 

“I think I’d like you to take out your anger on me just a little bit-” 

She cut him off with a kiss. 

Sweet sweet relief.

my masterlist here.

[kaijurakunsobs]

Seeds

remember guys! you can ask me to tag them on future updates

Summary: The idea of a soulmate is well known, they will come to you one day, either as a lover or a friend. A single bond made of invisible thread is what will let you feel their emotions, joys and worries, to experience their pain and for them to feel yours.

But beware, for not all blessed unions are meant to be, if you were to hate and push them away, a slow death shall consume them and a garden will bloom within their chest, the flowers will fight and push to feel the sun from the outside, a poetic dead of a broken lover. A beautiful dead for your hollow existence.

You know that your mother was never a good person, or so you have been told.

Miranda meet her when she came from the city to the village, four months pregnant and with the false story of being “sick”, her sickness? She decided to cheat on her rich husband and she wanted to have you away from prying eyes and possibly abandon you here. Your birth giver was upfront about how "Having a bastard could ruin my lifestyle!", Mother Miranda smiled sweetly and had Alcina give your mother refugee and help during the birth, the Lady agreed and housed the woman.

On the night of your birth, Alcina held you in her arms, begging Miranda to let her keep you, but she denied. You were hers and hers alone.

As for your mother? Only Miranda knows what happened to her, but you suspect, that her body is buried somewhere in the forest, alone and forgotten, you couldn’t care any less.

Miranda was the one to raise you, to love you, the one who would be there when you were sick, to kiss your tears away when nightmares woke you up. She was the one to break your body apart and scream in our face how much of a failure you were, just like Alcina or Donna or those pesky lycans running amok outside, but within your failure, she saw minimal success, you were quick to learn how to care for her experiments, which were the signs of cadou rejection and how to treat it, at least, you could be useful until she placed you in the mansion the villagers were building for you.

You have seen so many people been brought to the lab, so many lives being taken for a selfish reason, that you grew numb, there was no anger or pain, you felt no grief when the test subjects saw you and begged for help, you did nothing for there was nothing inside you.

You are surprised when Miranda begins to show interest in a kid, you know he was brought here years ago and somehow had managed to survive the horrors your mother put him through. Interest grew into an obsession and then into pride, hope, you will forever remember how hard Miranda screamed when her golden child came out a failure too, cursing at the skies and asking why? He had been so close to being her perfect little boy and he turned out to be yet another fuck up.

But she doesn’t throw him away, her favoritism shows when she moved him from the medical area into a room in her private chambers, never allowing you to go close to him, slapping you and kicking up a storm whenever she saw you too close to his door, even if you were passing by. But you never resent him, you can’t hate him or her, all you can do is nod and go away.

But curiosity is something hard to get rid of, and so you waited for days almost a month until Mother left to meet up with Alcina, using the moment to sneak into his room. A beautiful room, compared to yours, he had a big bed with a canopy, the thick curtains prevent you from seeing him, it feels like a fairy tale when you part the curtain to peer inside.

Truly like a fairy tale...a beautiful boy lays there, his golden hair is going gray, probably out of stress. He has a couple of scars on his face and some new ones on his arms. You feel like reaching inside and kiss him to break the spell, but it feels...wrong, like if you could tarnish him even further by touching him, like if your mother would appear and toss you aside for laying one of your dirty hands on his skin. No matter how bad you wish to be his Knight and save him, the terror you feel over defying Mother Miranda’s orders makes you stay still.

And then, it happened.

It began as an agonizing stab in your chest, it made you trip backwards painfully slamming your head against the wall, gasping for air when the pain as a needle began to pierce through you slowly making its way to your heart, a pitiful sob left your mouth, rendering you useless while your body overcomes the initial discomfort. It takes all of your willpower to get straight and look up at the ceiling through your tears, the light it's blinding and it leaves you dizzy, almost ready to empty your stomach.

Karl Heisenberg, age eleven, lays on his luxurious-looking bed, his entire body shakes painfully, breaking through his mouth, and the fever that's racking his body is the only thing keeping him from noticing that, his soulmate is standing a couple of steps away from his bed.

But how do you even know this?

Because Miranda told you about the concept of someone blindingly loving you for all eternity, who would be your other half and the missing piece to your broken existence, Dimitrescu once said that those stories were silly little fantasies, that love should be won over and one should prove to be the right person for someone else and not just have it “hand it over”.

You used to dream of the day you would feel the connection between yourself and another person, of being able to experience their joy when their eyes fell on you. But this is far from what you wanted, what you always wished for! All you can feel is pain, radiating from so many places in your body, rendering you useless, overwhelmed with anger, grief, sorrow for “yourself”.

Everything quickly piles up, so consumed by what Karl is feeling that you don’t hear the tray that falls and the porcelain plates that shatter, you vaguely register the sting of Miranda slapping you and the distant sound of her screams.

She drags you out of the room and into the cold world outside her home, across the heartless forest and you wonder...if you might end up like your mother, buried under some tree to be forgotten. But Miranda keeps walking until she throws you at the feet of Lady Dimitrescu, speaking to the tall woman and leaving you under her care, forever.

When you were younger, you used to fear the Lady. She was imposing and so strong, a self-made matriarch, but she's so careful when helping you up and guiding you through her beautiful home, her hands are so kind when she helps you to undress and sit in the tub filled with warm water, racking her fingers through your messy hair...so this is what a mother truly is like?

She only leaves you alone when she goes to fetch anything you could wear, looking displeased when she hands you a maid's uniform "We must send for the seamstress, I cannot have you wearing those shabby clothes" that, for some reason gets you to smile.

Later, her movements are soft as she runs a brush through your hair, the fire makes the wood crack and explode, filling the room with a nice warmth, something you never lacked off but that never truly permeated your body.

"Y/N, care to explain why mother Miranda was so angry, earlier?" you hear the concern in her voice, a bit of worry hidden in a stern tone.

Alcina can see you shrink a bit, as if ashamed of what you had done “I saw the kid mother keeps in her chambers” it comes out like a whisper, scared of Miranda appearing at that moment to slap you again “I think he’s my soul mate, Alcina!”

Lady Dimitrescu chuckles lightly and smiles when you turn around to look at her ”Your soul mate, some dirty man-thing? Oh my sweet girl I hope it isn’t real and you were just revolted by the sight of a man!”

“But I felt his pain and his emotions...it was scary, but maybe he will love me!”

“Just because you can feel what he feels, doesn’t mean everything will be alright. That’s why those romances are so volatile, darling! There’s no real reason for them to work beyond being stubborn and tell yourself that it will work out” the lady is classy and gracious in her movements as she poured herself another glass of wine “That the other person at the end of your bond will fall to their knees the moment they see you, but in reality, they might resent your sole existence and end up killing you!”

“Killing me?” that comes as a surprise, you have never heard of this.

“Yes...a cruel and unjust dead” Alcina brings you to her lap letting one of her hands spread over your small chest with a sorrowful look on her face “Your lungs will get infested with flowers, a bouquet of throe will bloom within your body, each day the garden will grow and fight to see the sun beyond your mouth and it will rob you of all air and kill you in no time”

She sees you wonder about it, a million questions that you wish to ask, everything falling apart when her curious daughters come into the room, moved by the rumors some maids had shared about their mother adopting another child. All too eager to know their new sister.

After that day, the topic is never brought up.

You grow and learn everything under Alcina’s guidance, the woman is hellbent on making a lady out of you. She teaches you how to read and write, about math and how to sing, applauding when you show her the gift the cadou in your stomach gave you, Midas' touch.

Her daughters and your self-appointed sisters, all laugh and joke around you, treat you like if you were another human when you are no different from their mother, another failed creation, a remainder that Miranda was cursed to not have what she wants. But the love of your little family drowns those thoughts, leaving the happiness of your existence in a nice home and the ever-presence of pain and resentment in the back of your head.

As you grow you notice, each cut and wound that leaves a scar on your skin turns to gold when made by you, but looks as pale lines when made by Heisenberg. You can’t help but laugh when the idea of being a piece of pottery repaired via kintsugi pops in your head, and for a moment you ask yourself if Heisenberg also has golden scars to match yours?

You cry the day when you finally leave the castle, trying hard to convey your love for your mother and sisters with hugs and kisses, in low whispers, promises of coming over as much as you can. The Lady kisses your forehead and sends you off with some final words of advice.

"Never lower your head and always do your best, remember you have us and we would never let you fall"

You are eighteen when you become the miracle worker of the village, crafting medicines with alchemy, signing at the church when the congregation asks you to, turning anything into gold with your touch, smiling with grace, and claiming to have been blessed with a precious gift by Mother Miranda to help the poor and keep the village off absolute agony. In the end, everything tastes like vile and ash, the forced smiles and the sweet tone of your voice make you gang behind the long veil that covers your face.

The days when you sing at the church, are the only ones when you can feel all his hatred directed at you, each painful stab making your eyes tear, yet you keep on making the people happy with hymns crafted before you were even born. If you could let him feel how similar your anger for Miranda is, perhaps the pain in your chest would dissipate, but you can't because you are hollow.

Among the villagers you are Lady Y/N L/N, the golden touch child, you are adored and blindly loved, Miranda smiles radiantly whenever she hears nothing but good words from her cattle, how much they dote on you, ready to serve without a thought, the eagerness to work under you. You may have been a failed vessel but you are a success as a flycatcher, bringing the sheep down to the slaughterhouse to be sent to the other Lords.

On meeting day, the pain and emotions that you feel seem to amplify the closer you are to Heisenberg.

As you sit beside your adoptive mother, your smaller hand in hers, while Mother Miranda speaks and praises each one of her children, lingering a bit too much on her golden child. The pressure in your chest grows, it feels like when you submerge in the tub as if your lungs were being crushed under an invisible force, ready to cough and gasp for air.

Across from you, he sits, posture closed and annoyed beyond belief when Miranda asks him to stay a bit longer after the meeting is done, you feel relief when Lady Dimitrescu gets up, opting to ignore Heisenberg in favor of bringing you back to the castle for your scheduled visit.

You two aren't even halfway through your journey back when you notice you are missing something, a small gift for today's reunion, a bag of fine jasmine tea.

"Mother, I need to get back. It seems I misplaced something, you go ahead!"

There's no time for Alcina to respond before you volt back to the church, the soft lace of your veil beautifully flying behind your hurried steps, slowly dropping your speed the closer you get to the entrance of the building, from it you can see Miranda, she as shed her mask off and is touching Heisenberg's face the way you have seen brides or wives touch their husbands' faces.

A pulse of repugnance and despise make you stumble back, pressing your back against the outer wall, it feels like the first time you met him, it's blinding and leaves you disoriented for a second, a hand flies up to your mouth when a wave of nausea hits you. He's not only pissed, he feels filthy and is suppressing a murderous intent behind a mask of indifference.

The sensation grows and grows until it's crushing you. One look up and you see him standing before you, a hand caging you between him and pillar.

"What are you doing here, freak? The tall bitch sent you to spy on me? tell her to fuck off" this isn't the first time you hear his voice, but it feels like it, even if his words are filled with malice, they taste like bitter wine for you.

"NO!...I mean...no, Lord Heisenberg. I came back because I lost something, a small bag"

"So you are afraid the dog stole from you, are you calling me a thief?" your mouth opens to explain to him once more, but the burly man only growls and steps away "Think whatever you want, I can't care any less for whatever the scum thinks of me"

Later, in the solitude of your home, you will call yourself an idiot, asking yourself why you reached for his empty hand when he turned around ready to leave, why you didn't revealed who you were, why you didn't cried when the man slammed your body against the wall.

"DON'T YOU DARE TO TOUCH ME, BITCH!" Heisenberg's tobacco infused breath hits your face, the painful stab of hatred felt like if your body were being torn apart "I CAN'T STAND PEOPLE LIKE YOU, YOU MAKE SICK!"

This time, when he turns around to leave, you don't reach out, you stay there, gasping for hair and coughing like if you were drowning, a slick sensation in your throat makes you gag and cough harder than before, both of your hands are cupped over your mouth, scared at the idea of throwing up.

Thank God you don't.

The moment passes and your body calms down, but your eyes grow wide when you see what made you gag.

A single yellow carnation petal covered in spit rests between your hands.

-----

Yelow Carnation: rejection and disdain

tag list: @happygalaxymilkshake @mightybeeb @kittyb2000

[ayuuria]

Yashahime Translation: Prince Animage May 2021 Issue (Part 1)

Please do not repost this translation without my consent! This includes screenshots of any type and amount. If you wish to share this translation, simply link to this post.

For more information regarding the use of my translations, click here.

Due to the amount of content in the magazine, I have decided to the split the translation into three parts as follows

Part 1: Elder Son’s Resolve! Interview with Director Satou Teruo

Part 2: We Won’t Give Up On the Future! Father-Daughter Round-Table Talk with Narita Ken, Matsumoto Sara, and Komatsu Mikako

Part 3: The Strength to Overcome Destiny. Interview with Director Satou Teruo

Please note that there are two interview articles with Director Satou in this magazine.

The Strength and Pride of a Beast King

The Beast King of the West’s (The Dog General) eldest son, Sesshōmaru. He is far from the stereotypical image of an eldest son being “A reliable elder brother who protects his younger brother” or “A filial pious male heir”.

He once clashed with his half-demon half-brother, Inuyasha, many times. Also, instead of ruling over the western lands in place of his late father, he continues a wandering journey. However, his outstanding ability and noble mindedness that can overwhelm others is that of a beast king’s eldest son. Always treading the path he believes in, he is an aloof existence who never sucks up to anyone, no matter how backed into a corner he gets. That is the way of life for Sesshōmaru, the one who inherits the blood of a beast king.

That stance does not change, even with his own daughters, Towa and Setsuna. He does not spoil them because they are his daughters. On the contrary, he is sending them on a difficult path. Even when his second daughter, Setsuna, lost her life as result, he never grieved.

At a glance, Sesshōmaru’s actions appear collected, but behind that he must surely be hiding his own conviction. Though we cannot yet see the full picture of what Sesshōmaru is thinking, let us wait for the second chapter (season) while believing in the strength and pride of the eldest son!

Sesshōmaru The Eldest Son of the Beast King of the West. A proud demon with greater demon parents. Though he is not on good terms with his younger brother, Inuyasha, when Kirinmaru tried to fell Inuyasha, Sesshōmaru sent Inuyasha inside the black pearl.

Family

Parents: The Dog General and his wife

Siblings: Younger half-brother, Inuyasha (different mothers)

How He’s Addressed: “Sesshōmaru”

When One Says Eldest Son, (one thinks) “Stubborn” Looks Like He Will not Show Affection for A While?

In episode 18, Sesshōmaru gallantly appeared before Towa and the others as they fell into a tight spot battling Kirinmaru. Even though he fended off Kirinmaru and saved his daughters, he left the scene without a word. There is a glimpse of Sesshōmaru’s obstinate heart when Jaken asks him “What about the two of them?” and he answers, “Don’t say anything”.

When One Says Eldest Son, (one thinks) “Pride” One Who Inherits the Blood of the General of the West

The pride he has for the beast king blood he got from his father is an aspect you can’t leave off when talking about Sesshōmaru. During the time of “Inuyasha”, it was that pride that made Sesshōmaru dislike and look down upon humans and half-demons. However, because of his meeting with the young girl, Rin, and moving with her, a kind heart slowly started to bud within him.

When One Says Eldest Son, (one thinks) “Harshness” Spartan Training for Even His Daughters

Though it was to hide them from Zero and Kirinmaru, to take his daughters away from their mother immediately after birth and imposing a “rite of courage and cowardice”? Even with Setsuna’s death before him, he entrusts Towa with Tenseiga, (a sword) that can resurrect a dead person only once, but the blade is broken… His harsh trial for his daughters will continue in the second chapter (season)?!

Pay Attention to These Eldest Sons Too!

Kohaku Eldest son of the demon slayer clan. During his youth, he had a somewhat unreliable side to him compared to his elder sister, Sango. However now, he has matured splendidly, both mentally and physically. Taking over from his late father, he became the head of the demon slayers.

Hisui Miroku and Sango’s eldest son. He has two older twin sisters, Kin’u and Gyokuto, who do things at their own pace. For a long time, whether it was just from the rebelliousness of an eldest son , he misunderstood his father as a greedy and cowardly person. However, in episode 13, he changed his perception.

Sōta The eldest son of the Higurashi family and Kagome’s younger brother. Towa’s adoptive father. He saw Kagome fighting demons during his childhood, so he more or less does not get phased easily. Even when Towa returned to the feudal era, he gave her a gentle push.

Kirinmaru It is not known if he has other siblings aside from his older sister, Zero, but one can sense the personality of an eldest son from his imposing appearance. Whether it is towards his elder sister, the severity in his roar might even get through to Sesshōmaru.

Eldest Son’s Resolve!

Formerly, there was special regard for the eldest son as the “heir to the clan”. However now, there is a diversity in worth. If there are neets, then there are also vagrant sons and there are even families that are not blood related! Various eldest sons who are each fighting in their own fields, gather around~!

Good Brothers, Good Rivals Director Satō Teruo

— Where do you think Sesshōmaru’s charm as an eldest son lies?

Satō: Even if you say elder brother, Sesshōmaru’s relationship with Inuyasha is that of a half-brother. You may not really get a sense of an eldest son or elder brother but… I think he’s fundamentally a nice person. For the sake of his goals, he’s willing to move (others) in a way that’s convenient for him, whether it be his younger brother or children. However, in truth, it’s also for their sake and it’s like despite everything, he won’t treat everyone badly.

— That’s a little elder brother like.

Satō: He clashed with Inuyasha for a long time but over time, he took action in a way that would become proper support. Although, I don’t know just how far Sesshōmaru planned things. He has a “Whether they live or die is up to them” kind of thinking. It’s possible that the actions Inuyasha chose to take just happened to turn out well.

— In “Hanyō no Yashahime”, there was a phrase that came up for the daughters’ trial = “Rite of Courage and Cowardice”. Could that harshness also be eldest son like?

Satō: Even during the “Inuyasha” era, Sesshōmaru would always back Inuyasha into a corner but Inuyasha overcame and crawled his way up. Not only do I think that Inuyasha was able to grow because he had that high wall known as Sesshōmaru, but if Sesshōmaru hadn’t been there, it’s possible that Inuyasha wouldn’t have been able to battle Naraku. I feel that the two of them are good brothers and good rivals. In that term, I think Sesshomaru has some amount of faith in Inuyasha.

— By the way, are you an eldest son yourself, director Satō?

Satō: I’m the same as Sōta, Kohaku, and Hisui in that I’m the “eldest son who’s also the youngest child”. For some reason, there are many eldest sons who are the youngest child in this work so somehow, I felt close to them. Being the eldest son while also being the youngest child is completely different from being the eldest son and child. Everything is based on the elder sisters’ mood! (laughs) My two older sisters would mimic Pink Lady (translator’s note: A pop duo from the late 1970s) and I would applause as I watched. There’s an image that that’s how eldest sons who are also the youngest child are thoroughly trained on “how to read the mood” (laughs).

— Sōta certainly is able to read the mood. He was completely unphased when Setsuna, Moroha, and the demon came from the feudal era.

Satō: Sōta has nerves of steel doesn’t he. Thanks to seeing Kagome and Inuyasha go back and forth to the feudal era right before his eyes, even when Setsuna, Moroha, and the demon appeared, he just took a philosophic view like “Ahahaha… See, I always told you. There are demons”. Being able to adapt to their surroundings like “that’s just how it is” I think is a trait of eldest sons who are also the youngest child (laughs).

— What about Kohaku’s aspects of being an eldest son?

Satō: Kohaku at present is splendidly carrying on the family work as the head of the demon slayers, though it’s not a large family like in the past. I think while carrying the pride he inherited from both his father and elder sister, he’s trying to protect the work of demon slaying. When thinking of Sango as an elder sister, she seems kind of scary (laughs).

— Hisui also inherited the family work.

Satō: You’re right, inheriting Hiraikotsu from Sango. With uncle Kohaku’s existence, it’s possible that Hisui felt “he wanted to do the same thing” during his childhood days, like how children from kabuki families do so to speak.

— If we’re talking eldest son with an older sister, it’s Kirinmaru.

Satō: That is the case. Kirinmaru was a beast king who ruled over the east and stood alongside the Dog General so he’s already a feudal lord/head of the house. There was the phrase “Don’t get carried away” that he said to Zero. As the head, he was admonishing his sister who lacked a sense of justice. I think that dislike for half-demons comes from their position. In the second chapter (season), a new key person will appear in the story. Kirinmaru’s family relationship will become more complex again going forward so please pay attention to how that relationship in regards with Sesshōmaru’s family will turn out.

[depths-of-your-soul]

Ok so i just found you and this is my very first time asking someone a request. Like ive been itching to ask someone for a request but i was too shy or theyre all closed. And i read some of your works and it made me wanna ask if you could make third year bakugou developing a crush on a cute first year (from the general studies) she's an honest girl and a bit bashful, fidgety. Shes kinda her class' baby sister. Bakugou also scares her but she knows hes a good person just a bit too aggresive. (I feel like she and the other first years look up to him and his batchmates) Its just bakugou trying to get her attention (like making her do stuff for him, inviting her and stuff something thatll make her stick by) and hope he could make something out of it. Oh and he doesnt have to an asshole to her 24/7 he can be aggresive but his gestures and what he does for her says otherwise. Hes just soft. Make it fluffy please ❤

Am i asking too much??? I think i am.. im not sure if i made any sense. Sorry... im just a bit excited and nervous! it doesnt have to be exact but i hope you get the idea. I just like the idea of Bakugou crushing on a kouhai and i thought it would be cute

Treasured Kouhai

Pair: Katsuki Bakugou x reader

Genre: Fluff

Summary: "One would often wonder what makes them so special that even the almighty Dynamite keeps them close."

An anger that never subsides, a frown that is etched across his whole face and eyes as sharp as a needle. With every step he took, he exerted dominance, pride and an intense aura. With his vermillion pupils and those ash blonde locks, he prances around school like he owns the place.

Katsuki Bakugou

That is his name. More often than not, he is found with his usual group of friends; Red-riot, Chargebolt, Cellophane and Pinky.

In recent times, though, there seem to be a new member of the Bakusquad.

With their giddy personality and their stubborn attitude, they somehow ended up staying with the squad for most of their time outside class. Third-years pity them, second-years are curious about them while first-years are envious of them.

One would often wonder what makes them so special that even the almighty Dynamite keeps them close.

What they don't know is the fact that Katsuki has actually developed some feelings toward the underclassman. Every day, Katsu makes it his task to bring the fellow with him, ordering them around to help him while giving them gifts in return.

A give and take relationship, he helps them with their studies and they help him with small things. They won't lie, Katsu sometimes scare them, but they know for a fact that in actuality, he is one of the kindest people who would get into danger in order to save even a mere stranger on the streets, knowing they might not ever meet again. They know that behind his fowl mask and curses that comes out of his mouth lies a boy hungry for affection.

He knows that they can see right through them, and as embarrassing as it may be, he finds it endearing that they go out of their way to understand him even a little bit more each day.

Whenever they seem tired from school or other activities, he would cook them food while ordering them to sit down on the chair. In turn, whenever he gets too tired, they would even go as far as giving him a massage.

If Katsu ever hears someone talking poorly about them, there would be chaos without a doubt.

After a few weeks, the Bakusquad has gotten used to them and always invites them to hang outs or group dates outside. Some people would even murmur to each other about how Katsu seem to display affection and biasness towards them, always treating the youngster more gently than others. Sure, he still shouts at them, yet he somehow manages to make it seem less fierce.

It'll only be a matter of time before one of them shares their secret. For no matter how long they spend together, no amount of time together will satisfy.

[tossawary]

Chapter 25: “Home Sweet Home” of “pride is not the word I’m looking for” quotes and commentary. Not a full list of favorite quotes or full commentary. 

-

 Anyway, Shang Qinghua makes himself  so fucking sincerely annoying that the Huan Hua Palace Sect cultivators can’t figure out how to politely tell him to fuck off fast enough. Shang Qinghua makes outlandish assumptions about how many thieves there are (at least a dozen, he’s sure, probably twice that) and what methods they might be using (special invisibility talismans, he suspects); Shang Qinghua repeatedly apologizes for being too busy with important things for Cultivator O.B.B. at the last Immortal Alliance Conference, then tries to commiserate with the man about having to get important things done without getting any respect for it; Shang Qinghua also anxiously wonders if they should all go to Zhao Hua Temple Sect to report what happened here, since there’s a troublesome demon and also some sneaky rogue cultivator thieves on the loose out here! He gets turned down immediately, but assures everyone that he’ll at least let Yue Qingyuan know everything that happened here right away! 

 Liu Qingge pretty much just stands there scowling silently the entire time - he’s no Shen Qingqiu for sheer menacing  "I can and I will ruin your entire life"  glares, but he’s still pretty intimidating. He does a great job! No notes! 

 Shang Qinghua nearly pats himself on the back as he and Liu Qingge leave less than an hour after he arrives.  “Holy shit, I’m good,”  he thinks, a little giddy with the successful extraction.  “That’s a skill that good ol’ Liu-Shidi will never have!” 

 -

AN: Of course this has a high chance of backfiring. Is Shang Qinghua going to weave webs of lies anyway? Of course. 

Love the fact that Shang Qinghua can shamelessly act like a total pushover, while actually manipulating someone so that he gets the results he wanted. Some snobby sect leader walks into a negotiation room, prepared to use SQH as a doormat, and Shang Qinghua is probably internally like, “Bro, me and my jelly spine welcome you to hell.” 

- 

 He gives them the rundown on what happened, but, to his complete lack of surprise, that doesn’t seem to satisfy interrogators like his little sister-in-law and his fellow transmigrator. They have so many questions! And Shang Qinghua doesn’t have enough answers for them! 

 No, he doesn’t know what Huan Hua Palace Sect knows or thinks they know. No, he doesn’t know how they knew about that place. No, he doesn’t know whether the monster was just a local opportunist preying on distracted cultivators or something more sinister. No, he’s not experimenting with the creepy special item or discussing it at length here. No, Luo Fanli and Peerless Cucumber are not allowed to poke at the creepy special item! 

 Why the fuck would he ever let them do that?! 

 All Shang Qinghua knows is that Luo Fanli and Peerless Cucumber should eat their vegetables and then go to bed! Because they all have a long journey back to the sect in the morning! And also that words cannot describe how painfully old he feels as soon as he says this. 

-

AN: I’ve been thinking about a Demon Trio fanfic in which Mobei-Jun finds himself in a similar position with Luo Binghe and Sha Hualing. 

Mobei-Jun and Shang Qinghua are, like, bare minimum twice the age of Luo Binghe and Shen Yuan. Like, yes, neither Mobei-Jun nor Shang Qinghua are old old by the standard of the PIDW world. Yes, MBJ and SQH are stunted as all get out. But the fact that they have bare minimum 2x the life experience as Bingqiu is, in my opinion, funny as hell and severely underused in fanfiction. 

Like, imagine Mobei-Jun unintentionally dadding new demon LBH in SVSSS. Mobei-Jun being like, “Don’t eat the meat from this monster. It makes you hallucinate.” Or being like, “These people aren’t politically important enough to be shown this kind of respect. Look down on them properly and go sleep, or no one will ever respect you again in demon politics.” 

MBJ looking at SVSSS LBH and SHL like, “Damn, who raised you?” 

Because, like, I love to joke about Mobei-Jun being an oblivious fool, but that’s in regards to human culture. Mobei-Jun operating on demonic culture + his level of arrogance in regards to how he’s handling SQH suggests that MBJ can be politically savvy among demons when he wants to be. Also, the mental picture of MBJ being like, “Eat your weird demon vegetables, there’s nothing wrong with them, you picky half-breed brat,” is extremely funny. 

I’ll probably turn this into a separate post. 

- 

Shang Qinghua does  not  miss the man’s unconcealed  “oh, great, some of my favorite problem people are back, probably with bad news”  expression when they arrive. The man is not at all impressed to hear about the drugged-up Shadow Cave Wolf Spiders or the evil, murderous, madness-inducing plant they fought on their mission, but the Qian Cao Peak Lord is reluctantly, partially placated by the jar of three-eyed skeleton tears Shang Qinghua super thoughtfully brought back for his inspection. Mu Qingfang really likes his research projects! 

 Shang Qinghua lets himself feel kind of good about this gift - he’s the man who gets things and gets things done - and ignores the Weeper’s Eye whispering in his head,  “He has resigned himself to the untimely deaths of everyone he knows.” 

 (Wow. Oh, Shang Qinghua knows that feeling!) 

-

AN: Mu Qingfang doesn’t think that everyone around him is inevitably going to die, he’s just extremely aware of how dangerous the world is and how reckless cultivators can be. Also, for many years, he was fairly certain that Liu Qingge and Shen Qingqiu were headed for bad ends. 

This felt like a good place to insert some optimism back into the sect in general. Luo Fanli has been cured and is willingly going to visit her sister, Liu Qingge has got a hold on his self-destructive tendencies, Mu Qingfang thinks things are getting better, Shen Qingqiu’s health problems have been essentially fixed, Qijiu might actually work their shit out, Shen Yuan shares his real name with Shang Qinghua, and so on and so forth. 

It felt like a good contrast with and buildup towards Luo Binghe’s Skinner mistake (not everything is rosy yet, there are still growing problems), the secret basement, and the encounter with Bing-Ge. 

Only to flip that around and then bring some surprise Moshang into things! 

- 

“I have now been informed that, after learning that you had returned and, at the very least, completing the duties that were intended to have him reflect on his actions, he has disappeared yet again,” Shen Qingqiu continues. “This second disappearance has set some of the other junior disciples into a renewed panic, which has concerned some of the senior disciples, which was, apparently, cause to alert me.”   

 “Ah,” Shang Qinghua says. 

-

AN: Shen Jiu should not be in charge of a bunch of children, but it is funny to imagine him going through the same “be a less shit person” adoption process as Shang Qinghua. Like, oh, it would be so easy for him to be cruel about this situation, but fuck you if he’s going to be outdone in the recovery and redemption process by Shang Qinghua of all people. 

Shang Qinghua: *grows into a kind of decent person* 

Shen Jiu: “Fuck you. That’s not allowed.” 

Shen Jiu: “...” 

Shen Jiu: “Well, if THAT FUCKER of all people can do it...” 

- 

 Shang Qinghua doesn’t have to look long or far to find his nephew. He finds the young protagonist sitting despondently on the doorstep of his own Leisure House, sniffling into his sleeve. Peerless Cucumber of all people is sitting beside him and keeping him company. 

  “Focusing on other people’s lives is easier than looking at his own.” 

 “-think a drowning man first has to save himself… or else he’s only going to bring down the people he’s trying to save,” Peerless Cucumber is saying. 

 Binghe nods. 

- 

AN: Going by, like, the everything of SVSSS, Shen Yuan really is the asshole going, “I’ll die before I look inwards to recognize and deal with my own emotions.” Also, going, “Yes, I’m a hypocrite who won’t take my own advice. And what about it?” What a repressed nerd. 

- 

 Shang Qinghua clears his throat to get their attention. Both kids (well, teenager and young adult, but still...  kids)  look up and then stand up quickly. Luo Binghe takes a forgetful step forward, before he wobbles into an appropriate respectful bow instead. 

 “Shang-Shishu!” 

  “How dearly this boy is loved!”  the Weeper���s Eye declares, in its soft way inside Shang Qinghua’s head.  “More than life itself! More than death itself!” 

 “Ah, never mind all that,” Shang Qinghua says, and steps forward to wrap his nephew in a quick hug instead, keeping the creepy talking eye oriented away from his nephew. “You’re a little too late to talk to me about your mission before your shizun did.” 

 Binghe, who was just relaxing into the unexpected hug, freezes. 

 Shang Qinghua knowingly pats the poor young protagonist on the back.

  “Oh, shit” is right! 

- 

AN: Uncle Shang really is adorable. Still kind of knocks me for a loop writing it, though, given that the SVSSS SQH and LBH relationship is... nothing like this whatsoever. Look upon the field of SQH and LBH content and see that it is relatively barren except for the stubborn motherfuckers with excellent taste in character exploration. 

-

  “Ahhh, well, I’ll be there too for this potential family reunion, bro,” Shang Qinghua assures him. “Maybe we can finally get to the bottom of where this ‘Shen Yuan’ name came from.” 

 Peerless Cucumber makes a strange expression. 

 “What?” 

 “...It’s my name.” 

 “What?” Shang Qinghua repeats. 

 “It’s my name,” Peerless Cucumber says again, quietly. “It’s my real name.” 

 “Oh.” 

  “Huh,” Shang Qinghua thinks, having been operating on the assumption that the System made the name up for its mysterious backstory. Well, that gives new dimensions to Peerless Cucumber’s criticism of the scum villain! 

 “You can use it,” Peerless Cucumber says, with an air of determined nonchalance. “Everyone else is doing it.” 

 “Ah, alright. Thanks.” 

- 

AN: This is probably the part where I would have made Shang Qinghua reveal his original name in turn... IF HE HAD ONE. It drives me... kind of wild that we get the Airplane Extras and we STILL don’t get 1) Airplane Shooting Towards The Sky’s original name, and 2) MOBEI-JUN’s name. 

Which actually makes things a little more interesting here, in my opinion, even though not having those names gets a little frustrating in terms of fanfiction writing. With Mobei-Jun, you get to explore the fucked up possibilities of him not having a name outside of his identity as the future Northern King. With Shang Qinghua, you get to explore him being a squirrelly little fuck who refuses to let anyone into his life. 

So, because we don’t have Airplane’s name, we actually get this mildly interesting dynamic in which Shang Qinghua doesn’t even really think to reveal it to Shen Yuan. We don’t see this part, but Shen Yuan is actually a little miffed by this degree of secrecy, which is going to come up later. (Shen Yuan doesn’t like the fact that Shang Qinghua has as much power over him as he does.) 

I personally do not hold the headcanon that Airplane’s name was “Shang Qinghua”. It’s a little too on the nose for me. At that point, the only reaction to transmigrating into SQH kind of has to be, “Ah, well, I was asking for that!” Maybe Airplane projected his worst qualities onto Shang Qinghua, but I don’t think he went so far as to give the character his own name. 

Airplane’s main identity when he died appears to have been Airplane Shooting Towards The Sky, and we know that he wasn’t particularly close to his divorced parents and any step- or half-siblings. So, the only names that are really relevant post-transmigration are “Airplane Shooting Towards The Sky” and “Shang Qinghua”. By the time that SY gets here, he’s firmly entrenched in those identities, and his original name is completely irrelevant. I could honestly believe that Airplane just doesn’t think it matters anymore. 

- 

 Shang Qinghua’s nephew, in the way of a true young protagonist or  fucking cannon fodder, got the bright fucking idea to slip away to speak with the concubine called Butterfly privately. 

 “I thought: what if she didn’t want to speak in front of that lecherous old man? What if she wanted to get away from him?” Binghe confesses. 

 “She was the demon,” Shang Qinghua guesses. 

 Binghe nods, voice breaking. “It was…  I was  really,  really stupid, Uncle.” 

 “Well, at least you know that,” Shang Qinghua sighs, and pats his sniffly nephew on the back again. 

 Oh, he can see why Shen Qingqiu was  pissed the fuck off now. Shang Qinghua kind of wants to start yelling! Or maybe just screaming, coherently or otherwise! 

 Except yelling isn’t going to help much right now. 

 Shang Qinghua listens as Luo Binghe recounts being captured by the demon and then waking up bound by Immortal Binding Cables - of being so terrified that he could barely breathe with it. His only hope was Ning Yingying and Ming Fan tattling on his disappearance and a senior disciple tracking him down on time. The skinner demon apparently nearly killed Binghe, crooning over his young and beautiful skin, except a flash of warm light intervened and dropped an unstable part of the ceiling in on them before they could hurt the captured protagonist. 

 “Fu-Shijie and Shizun arrived after that and k-killed it,” Binghe says. “Uncle, it was all  stupid luck!  Shizun said I should have been dead and that, between my efforts and the demon’s, he had no idea how I wasn't! And he was right! It was  so close! If the ceiling hadn’t fallen in like that-! Fu-Shijie suggested the ropes might be faulty and it could have been an unconscious use of spiritual energy, but I didn’t do anything! It wasn’t me!” 

 It  sounds like the System to Shang Qinghua, intervening again at a crucial moment to prevent the premature death of the protagonist. Just thinking about how close his nephew came to dying without him knowing is nearly enough to inspire a cold sweat! Shang Qinghua can’t speak about the System, so all he can really do is keep hugging! Keep holding on for dear life and saying soothing nothings to his crying nephew! 

- 

AN: I wanted to include the Skinner mission, but I didn’t want to redo it onscreen because that’s been done in many fanfictions before and I felt that there was really no good reason for Shang Qinghua to be a part of it. The reason I wanted to include it is to show how the plot is off the track of the SVSSS (and PIDW) stories, with the changed LBH and the changed Original SQQ. 

LBH wants to be a hero, but he’s not there yet. 

- 

 “...Don’t put yourself above him… or below him. Tell him what you want and listen to what he wants, and don’t be surprised if things don’t change all at once,” Shang Qinghua advises and, at Yue Qingyuan’s look, quickly raises his hands. “Ahhh, not my business, I know! Not my business! I just… I hope it works out! I hope you two get something better out of this mess! Aha, make the sect meetings a little less awkward and… things.” 

  “He has never known what better looks like. He will always be Yue Qi, the slave boy. No matter what he does.” 

 “...Thank you,” Yue Qingyuan says finally, thoughtfully. “I appreciate your�� restraint in this matter… in recent months.” 

 Aha, yikes. 

-

AN: I know that some people wanted more stomping on Yue Qingyuan, but... like... this man is as or nearly as traumatized as Shen Qingqiu. His childhood fucking sucked. He broke his own soul trying to save Shen Jiu and failed. He made some shit decisions where Shen Qingqiu was concerned, but the logic and trauma he’s operating on are pretty obvious. He was trying. 

Part of the theme around the Qijiu and Moshang arcs has also been “an eye for an eye”. Like, are you guys really going to keep on not communicating with each other and then fucking up and then taking chunks out of each other? How many misunderstandings and upset over misunderstandings are you going to throw at each other? Where do you put your foot down and say, “I don’t want to live like this forever. We can be better than this. I want better than this.” 

Like, it can’t just be hurting each other back and forth (this applies to Qijiu more than Moshang, in which MBJ definitely carries the weight of this fuck-up). It can’t just be privately nursing hurt feelings forever. The options here are “fix it” or “live like this forever”. Fixing it won’t happen immediately, but the other option fucking sucks, so every little step helps. 

So Shang Qinghua here is just like, “Bro, I’m tired. My anger has cooled a lot. I just want all our lives to suck less. I hope things work out for you.” 

[filmwuju]

[TRANS] Character Introduction: People around Seongyeom & Mijoo

Ki Jeongdo | Yook Jiwoo | Ki Eunbi | Kim Wooshik | Kwon Young-il | Kim Hyunjin | Park May

Ki Jeongdo (Male, late 50s) Seongyeom's father / Four-term assemblyman

A politician who was an athlete. Back then, he was renowned as the nation's thief for snatching actress Yook Jiwoo, who was the nation's first love, at the prime of her youth. Rising to fame, he threw his hat into the political ring, as if he was waiting for this. Him moving into his wife's family home as a live-in son-in-law was also for the campaign fund.

Managing a family that can be recognized by citizens during elections was also Jeongdo's long time plan. As a man, Jiwoo was his trophy; and being the father of siblings who are national athletes, he was able to bear national sentiment. Seongyeom's home becoming a show window family was entirely Jeongdo's volition. Family means gathering together when needed and taking a harmonious photo, that's it. Just one is hard enough already, how incredible is it to raise two national representatives of South Korea? He regards fatherly love as an instinct, and thinks what he's doing to his children is true love. Not knowing that for the person receiving the unwanted love, that love can become violence.

He has always been privileged with vested rights, and since he's in the upper class, he always lived with pride. He has never doubted his capability of going higher, higher up. Most politicians are likewise, their final goal is running for the presidential election. And since they're running, naturally, they want to win. But Seongyeom, who used to be an obedient chess piece, keeps causing trouble. So he's contemplating on how to quash him.

Yook Jiwoo (Female, late 50s) Seongyeom's mother / Actress

A top actress hailed as the nation's first love. If there's Suzy in the 2000s, there was Yook Jiwoo in the 1980s. During the early days of her career, she went by the stage name Jiwoo, without the Yook, because her last name comes off as stubborn. This was her agency's policy. Later, Jiwoo saw her name on a movie poster and threw a huge fit. Since then, she goes by her full name that sounds stubborn for a "female" actor.

She's a perfect actress named as the Queen of Cannes; but she's a born actress who, in pursuit of her career, is far from even the letter M in the word "mother", much less be an excellent one.

Ki Eunbi (Female, 30) Seongyeom's sister / Pro golfer

She doesn't know how to love in an ordinary way, because she's never lived an ordinary life. The world's number one female golfer. With that title alone,  men—regardless of their skin color—approached her, not knowing how Eunbi is like after falling in love. There are no exceptions—whether they have a strong build, or got a straightforward personality. By the time they realize how scary Ki Eunbi is not as the queen of golf, but as a lover, it's already too late—so accept your fate. Once she takes a bite, she does not let go until she gets sick of it. There's no place to escape unless you go to the edge of the world.

Of course there's an exception. When their love for her dies down, she lets go without hesitation. It was always easier to figure out separation than love. The same goes for her family. The time she spent with them in her whole life wouldn't amount to even one year because of her trips abroad. They always separated the moment they met, and she felt worried at the thought of Seongyeom, who would be alone in the huge house. My poor little brother. Their father, who likes to rank, compares them frequently; the media, who likes to chatter, bashes him regularly. My little brother Seongyeom. Seongyeom, whose sin is getting born as my little brother.

Of course she worked hard, but Eunbi's talent played a bigger part. Her sense of distance is more outstanding than others, and she's exceptional in controlling her strength. They said the only thing left for a first placer to do is to fall downwards, but Eunbi didn't know how to fall. If she didn't have talent, would it be a different story? While having these thoughts, she saw Seongyeom and thought, hmm.. it would be stressful to have no talent.

She's even sick of the first place now. Feeling bored, she was thinking whether she should retire and rest a bit, but her beloved little brother caused big trouble. What can I do? My little brother wants to do it. It's an older sister's duty to act as his shield, and I won't die from doing it for a few years more—so just for a bit longer, I'd have to stay in the first place for him.

Kim Wooshik (Male, 20) National track and field athlete

He lost his parents at a young age and was raised by his grandmother. Unlike someone his age, he believes in superstitions. But rather than saying he believes in them, it's more like he's familiar about life and is treated as a precocious child. His self-sufficient grandmother clothed him in cleanly washed clothes even though they're old, and did everything she can so that Wooshik can grow up as a bright and optimistic person. Wooshik, who grew up just like how she raised him to be, was perfectly kind and honest. He wasn't good at studying but he was smart; his hands were slow but his feet were fast. Naturally, Wooshik chose track and field. It was also a sport that he could do even with no money. He fell in love at first sight after watching Seongyeom's race, ran all the way with Seongyeom as his goal, and became a national athlete. It's his wish to run a relay race in the same competition with Seongyeom before the latter retires. No records or competition, just as Ki Seongyeom and Kim Wooshik.

He once saw a passage that said forgiveness is the biggest revenge. That's like saying the powerless can't do anything but to forgive. Ever since his days in  sports high school, he experienced countless assaults and abuse under the force of power. And you say that's the biggest revenge? It was a day when he got beaten by his seniors as usual. He roughly wiped the blood from his nose using his sleeves. The superstitions Wooshik believed in were of no help at all in the face of reality. The one who offered Wooshik practical help was Seongyeom. He told him that forgiving is the victim's right. He told him that he doesn't need to forgive if he doesn't want to. As the only person who told him that, how could Wooshik not admire him.

Kwon Young-il (Male, 29) National track and field athlete

South Korea's track and field record holder. As the best sprinter, he lives up to his reputation of South Korea's No.1 track and field athlete who receives unconditional support from track and field fans. He's a narcissist who cares about nothing but himself, but takes an interest only in Seongyeom. It's because he's jealous.  Whenever he's free, he picks a quarrel with the forever runner-up Seongyeom and ends up saying foolish words. I'm the real first placer, but why does it feel like I'm being pushed back by Ki Seongyeom every single time?

But still, as Seongyeom's long-time colleague, and as a sportsman, he's a friend who supports Seongyeom for the path he's going.

Kim Hyunjin (Male, early 40s) Assemblyman Ki Jeongdo's aide

Would there be another expression that puts a limit on Hyunjin as much as the phrase "aide by nature" does? However, he is a capable aide—to the level that everyone would agree in unison—who grasps everything about the Ki family, including Assemblyman Ki himself. He's machine-like, making one wonder if his heart is made of steel; he does not feel things like conscience and warmth.

Park May (Female, 35) CEO of imported film distributor May

Her name was originally Maehwi. Was it her dad's poor hearing, or her mom's poor pronunciation? Her dad, who heard Maehwi as May, registered her birth with the name "May". For a long time, her mom called her Maehwi and her dad called her May. To May, the actual party concerned, it didn't matter whatever they called her by. What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.

May believed in fundamental things. This was also due to her peaceful and cool nature; is it because of that? Entering a translation and interpreting university at the top of her class and finishing her studies in a graduate school of the same expertise, she was walking the so-called elite course. But then she set aside her career path and went into foreign film translation. The reason was simple. Because films are fun, but film festivals are freaking fun. She was in Busan when she first met Mijoo. At the Busan International Film Festival, which she skipped her class for, their sharing of the same bed at the guesthouse was the beginning of their relationship. After getting to know her, she found out that she's a distant junior of hers under the same department in their university. Mijoo was 21.

There is no bad Mijoo in this world. This is the pet theory of May as the dog owner of Mijoo. Mijoo—rough and clumsy, which makes her cute and pure too—was like a dog sometimes, she had no hesitations in baring her claws at arrogant things. From then on, May took it upon herself to be the dog owner. She was worried. If Mijoo meets a good person, it feels like she'd overcome her struggles and become extremely successful*, and if she meets a bad person, it feels like she'd get stabbed with a knife in the midst of selling drugs in a backstreet. All or nothing—Mijoo, who has no in between, didn't have a lot of things. She said she's never met a nice adult in her 20 years of life. Ah... I'm stuck. No choice, I'd have to be the nice adult for Mijoo, she decided**. Just like that, she spent around 10 years of time with her, as a senior and roommate.

She had more curiosity and energy before compared to now, but she feels no excitement nor interest in whatever she does these days. When she was young, she simply felt that her older seniors were cool, but now that she's at that age, she understood. There's just no fun in doing anything. She's done them all, tasted them all; the energy she used to pour out without reservation had been exhausted since long time ago.

Around that period of ennui in her life, an unsavory incident broke out in the translation industry she's been working in. She left translation behind and set up an imported film distributing company. As a small company that mainly imported independent films and art films, it involved a lot of legwork, so business trips is a norm. Her dream was to be a salaried employee for a lifetime, but why'd she become a CEO? CEOs like salaries too.. she didn't know of this fact until she became one herself. Is this, depressing? May, who was mentally healthy, immediately began her visits to the psychiatrist. Antidepressants help people who help themselves, and May wants to help herself properly. And since she's on it already, it's better to be bright and healthy.

T/N: * The idiom used in the original text is 개천에서 용 난다, which literally means "a dragon rises up from a creek." Often translated as "rags to riches," it is used to refer to someone from a humble background who overcame their hardships and became extremely successful.

** A longer translation that would more properly express the nuance of the original sentence would be:  May decided that: I'm not the best choice, but since there's no one else to do it, there's no choice but for me, at least, to be the good adult for Mijoo.

(orig post link from writer Park Shihyun’s DC gallery post)

[retvenkos]

alright, Olive, I'm back with a weird question. (but first of all, I hope you're doing good! how awfully rude of me to not start my ask by that) because you're so good at psychoanalyzing people (and I adore your rambling thoughts), I was wondering if you could maybe help me? I've always wondered who my godly parent would be in the PJO universe - it's been the biggest mistery in my life since I was 8. I just haven't found myself in any figure of the Olympus, maybe because I'd be the child of a minor deity? I've thought about Apollo, and I genuinely like it, but idk, maybe I need a more thorough analysis. I've also gotten Iris and Hemera from other people? I just think your piercing mind could see right through me. anyway, this is weird lol, I hope you don't mind me asking this! and don't worry if you can't answer, it's totally fine. 💜

asdfgfddfgfd, when i get my two weeks off for summer break, i should just do placements for inquiring mutuals because honestly it's one of my favorite things,,,

also, before i get into it (because i have some thoughts™), i'm going to plug one quotev quiz that i think is better than the rest when it comes to these matters: this godly parent quiz.

now, clara, i am not nearly as versed in pjo cabin placements as i am in hogwarts houses, but i'm going to give this my best shot:

first, i think i would be remiss not to mention that you are a libra, and libra is associated with themis, (idk really what that means since i'm not into astrology, lol), but themis isn't mentioned as one of the gods with a cabin, so i'm disregarding that. if we are following this logic though, i think that aphrodite is also associated with libra, so perhaps you could fit into that cabin? personally, i don't see it as strongly as i see others, but you do have a hopeless romantic streak, and a strong sense of community, which could sway you in that direction.

as for apollo, i'm going to unpack that for a minute, because it's very interesting that you'd place yourself there, and i'm on the fence with that myself, lol. (this is very stream of consciousness, so let's see where this section takes us)

i definitely see the association with the arts - music and poetry - although in my mind apollo has always been the performer, and less of the creator. i always associated the muses more with the creation stages of music and poetry. like... the muses are the fashion designers and apollo is the model going down the runway. or the muses are the writers and collaborators in the writers room and apollo is the actor or director. so, while i see the association, i think it's a little weak, because you strike me as more of the quiet artist who's behind the scenes, rather than the bard singing in the pub, trying to get coins. but, you know yourself better, so maybe it's a good association.

and after that, what always strikes me about apollo is the volatile contradictions of his personality. i mean, he's associated with the sudden death of children (rightfully so, i mean he slaughtered all of niobe's sons), along with his sister, artemis, but he's also a healer. he's like that "i'm a healer, but..." meme, which is funny as hell but also a little concerning. like, in many stories he is that godly sort of intelligent strength, but also he's really volatile and has quite a temper on him. i don't really think this relates a whole lot to you, because i get the vibes that you are generally mild mannered, but when something pisses you off, you let is really simmer. i feel like you aren't one to fly off the handle - if you do, it's probably been stewing within you for a while, and whoever your anger is directed at really knows that you're upset, and they knowingly pushed you to that place. i feel like you're more of a grudge holder than hot-tempered (but girl, same).

and then, of course, we have apollo's prophecies. now, maybe this is me reading too much into your scientific mind, but i think you are concerned with the future, but also don't think too much of it is predetermined. i feel like you are more of a trailblazer than that, and might just be prone to ignoring or actively working against anything you saw in the stars, asdfghgfsdfggfdsdfggfd

oh, and, apollo just has so many unfortunate romances, and on one hand, i have you quoted that you are more of an eponine than a cosette, but also, no hate to apollo and his tragic affairs, but he's openly mocked eros, and that truly gives off the vibes of working off of one (1) braincell, and you are too good for that, clara.

and just going back to personality, i think you have a lot of flexibility that just doesn't fit with the apollo cabin.

tldr; kinda but no?

now, i'm gonna kinda hop back into possible theories.

one of my gut reactions was the say athena, but after thinking about it, i'm still a little unconvinced. you have the intellect and pride for this cabin, and i feel like you would get roped into helping a lot of heroes like athena, but you also just have a charm to you that athena lacks. part of athena is that she's unapproachable and her pride is excessive. you, again, are too flexible to be athena. she's staunch where you are willing, and i feel like the rigidity of her nature is too constricting for you. it's very similar as to why i didn't place you in ravenclaw.

i also considered nike because of your competitive streak, but this placement kind of takes away from the underdog vibes i get from you. the righteous fury... the glee in the moment... it's definitely there, but i feel like there's a level of unsurety to your psyche that you don't really get with nike.

which leads me to my final analysis, where i think you would do well as a child of tyche.

let me go through this. so, i mentioned your competitive streak with nike, and that is 1000% evident in tyche. tyche is all about luck and fortune, and i feel like competition is a shoe in. children of tyche like to dabble with the unknown or the novel - it makes life interesting. they like to go against another and see where the cards fall, and if lady luck isn't on their side.... well, tonight's just not their night. they have a secure base to fall back on, and that allows them to stretch their wings and fly.

furthermore, with nike, victory is expected and guaranteed. luck is far more fluid and unpredictable - it's harder to pin down. you can have a lot of luck and a lot of things working in your favor, but still, the desired end result isn't set in stone - it's likely to happen, but there's always risk. this risk leaves for an air of quiet self-assuredness that isn't overbearing. there's always uncertainty in the mix, and that leads to less overt confidence. it also adds to the thrill (or the anxiety).

plus, i think that the gap between fortune and certainty (a pitfall of risk) leads to a lot of checks and balances that i really see in you. there's a lot of clear headed logic that gets weighed against ambition and desire, and it makes for a kind of pragmatism that doesn't stomp out dreams, just looks at them realistically.

which means i feel like a lot of people ask you for advice, clara. it also makes you a decision maker for sure. you might falter for a moment, but in the end, you make a choice and you live with it.

also, i have a personal headcanon that children of tyche are really well rounded, which harks back to my gryffindor analysis of you, where i mention that you have many tools in your box. you are able to manipulate many different things, and you can look at them from many angles, and i love that for you.

i also think this is a good placement for you because luck is all about what-ifs. it's about actively manipulating the world around you. like i said when i mentioned apollo's prophecies - i don't think that you do very well with the predetermined. some things, certainly, but one (1) you are too stubborn to believe you can't change things (oh, the contradictions of a gryffindor and child of tyche), and there's also a level of desperation that things won't always be like this. luck can come to anyone in any place. this is definitely tied to your bleeding heart - you care for people who have fallen on hard times, and you can't help but pray that it's only temporary.

oh, and i headcanon that tyche holds grudges sO BAD. she is only outdone by nemesis and hades.

anyway, this was long and it winded, but TLDR; i hereby herald you a child of tyche. you are my lady luck, clara.

[mala-sadas]

Shielded

Summary: Hop is on a losing streak, and Chairman Rose wants to talk to Leon about it. Leon just wants to keep his little brother from getting hurt.

Length: 2,435 words

Or, if you’d prefer: [Read on Ao3] [Read on FFN]

“Morning, Oleana!” Leon calls, jogging up to the door to the chairman’s office. The chairman's secretary stands in front of it, her arms folded and a scowl on her face. He flashes her a big smile, but her scowl only deepens.

“You’re late. Again.”

He chuckles. “I took a couple of unplanned detours on the way before Charizard took pity on me and steered me in the right direction.”

“The chairman’s time is a very valuable resource. You cannot keep wasting it like this and getting away with it, Champion,” Oleana hisses.

“Yes, ma’am. I’m sorry,” Leon says, dropping his smile. Once upon a time he would have tried throwing in a cheeky remark or a compliment to lighten the mood, but he’s learned by now that Oleana doesn’t appreciate that sort of thing. She doesn’t appreciate much of what Leon does, honestly, but the least he can do is try not to agitate her any more than usual.

Oleana narrows her eyes and steps aside, giving Leon access to the door. “I’m not the one you need to be apologizing to. Go inside. You’ve kept him waiting long enough.”

Leon nods and opens the door, heading into the office. It always feels larger and more spacious than it really is because there’s so little furniture inside; three of the four walls are covered in plaques, photos, and certificates commemorating all the brilliant things the chairman has accomplished. The last one is a row of floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking a magnificent view of Wyndon – just like viewing the city from atop Charizard’s back.

As he approaches the chairman’s desk, he looks out the windows at the people bustling about, going about their days with their Pokémon at their sides. There aren’t too many people out right now, but in a couple of weeks the streets are sure to be packed with visitors coming in for the Champion Cup. It’s his favorite time of year, both for seeing such a wide variety of people and Pokémon and for the thrilling battles that the Gym Challengers are going to have. He’s been counting down the days – between his little brother, his brother’s rival, and Piers’ little sister, this year’s Champion Cup is certain to be full of exciting and passionate battles.

“Something on your mind, Leon?”

“Huh?” Leon blinks, taking in the birds-eye view of Wyndon through the window in front of him. He turns around, realizing the chairman’s desk is still a few feet away. Chairman Rose has put down the documents he was reading and watches Leon with a bemused expression on his face. Leon smiles sheepishly, hurrying the rest of the distance to the chairman’s desk. “Sorry, I got a little distracted.”

“With you, I’m not surprised,” Chairman Rose says. He gestures to one of the two chairs on the opposite side of the desk. “Have a seat.” As Leon sits down, the chairman adds, “What was it this time?”

“Pardon?”

“What had you so distracted that you couldn’t make it from the door to my desk without making a wrong turn?” Chairman Rose asks, eyes sparkling with mirth.

Leon laughs. “I was thinking about the Champion Cup, actually.”

“Yes. It’s coming up soon, isn’t it?” Chairman Rose muses. “My, how the time flies.”

“Right? It feels like just yesterday that I was giving Hop and his friend their starter Pokémon and seeing them off on their journey,” Leon chuckles. “But soon, they’ll be right here in Wyndon, battling it out for the right to challenge me!”

“Assuming they make it that far, that is.”

“Of course they will! They’ve both got great potential as Trainers. I wouldn’t have endorsed them if they didn’t,” Leon adds with a playful smile.

Chairman Rose hums in acknowledgement. “That’s what I wanted to discuss with you, actually.”

Leon tilts his head. “The endorsements?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “Your little brother.”

Leon tenses. “What about him?” he asks. The last two times that the chairman had brought up Hop in conversation, he’d been looking for Hop’s assistance with something regarding the tests he was conducting at the Power Plant in Hammerlocke. Leon had made it clear both times that he didn’t want Hop getting involved with the chairman’s tests. But Chairman Rose is just as stubborn as Leon himself, so he doesn’t think that it’s the last attempt the chairman will make.

“I’m concerned about his performance in the Gym Challenge,” Chairman Rose says. “He’s been on a losing streak lately.”

“Oh, that,” Leon says, relaxing a bit. “I’ve noticed that too, but…it’s not unusual for Gym Challengers to lose some battles here and there. Hop is resilient – he’ll get through this. You don’t need to worry about him, Chairman.” He grins cheekily. “That’s my job!”

“Normally, I wouldn’t be,” Chairman Rose says, steepling his fingers on the desk. “But once it starts becoming bad for public image, that’s when I have to step in, I’m afraid.”

Leon’s grin fades. This kind of thing is exactly why he’s always tried to keep Chairman Rose as far away from his little brother as possible. “He’s just a Gym Challenger,” he says, keeping his tone level. “His public image is none of his – or our – concern.”

“No, no, Leon,” the chairman says, giving him a pitying smile. “It’s not young Hop’s image that I’m concerned about. It’s yours.”

His brow furrows. “Excuse me?”

“The unbeatable Champion endorses his little brother to take on the Gym Challenge,” Chairman Rose says with a flourish. “It’s a sweet gesture – the kind of thing that really catches the public eye and touches hearts. Unfortunately, that kind of attention has opened him up to greater scrutiny from the media, and with this losing streak, there have been harsher whispers… People are wondering if he’s really fit to be taking on the Gym Challenge.”

“Of course he is!” Leon retorts immediately. “I know my little brother; I’ve watched him battle. He’s got great instincts and he’s even more knowledgeable about Pokémon than I am. Once he learns to trust those instincts, he’s going to be–”

“You’re biased, Leon,” Chairman Rose interrupts. “It’s easy for you to overlook his faults because you’re so fond of him, but the truth is Hop’s just not as talented of a Trainer as you think he is. And the public is starting to take notice of that.”

“He’s… I’m not…” Leon trails off. He’s got so much potential – but doesn’t everyone? I’m not biased – but that’s exactly what someone who’s biased would say. Hop isn’t perfect, Leon knows that. But he can overcome those flaws and become a truly great Trainer…right? Or does Leon think that just because he’s blinded by love and pride for his brother?

“If not personal bias, the only other explanation is that you’re losing your touch.” Chairman Rose leans forward in his chair, staring Leon in the eye. “And that couldn’t be true, could it? You’re the unbeatable Leon. You can’t have weaknesses.” He leans back, drumming his fingers thoughtfully on the edge of the desk. “But, if the Champion endorses a Trainer who’s as weak as that… Maybe his eye isn’t as sharp as it used to be. Maybe his judgments are off. Maybe he’s not unbeatable anymore.”

Leon narrows his eyes. Are people really saying that about him, Galar’s beloved Champion, all because his little brother struggled in a couple of Gym battles? Or is this just Chairman Rose’s forward thinking going a step too far, trying to preemptively put a stop to rumors that may never spread about him at all?

“With all due respect, Chairman, this is all just speculation,” Leon says tersely, getting up from his seat. “I’m done with this conversation.”

“No, you’re not. Sit down. Now,” Chairman Rose says sharply, pointing a stern finger at the chair Leon just vacated. For a moment, it’s like he’s ten years old again, being chastised by the chairman like a father scolding his son. He sits back down on the edge of his seat without protest, but keeps his hands clenched tightly into fists. He doubts he’s going to like where this conversation goes.

Chairman Rose folds his hands and rests them on his desk. “We can’t have people going around thinking less of our Champion because he let his weak little brother take on the Gym Challenge. We have to do something about it.”

Leon clenches his jaw, resisting the instinct to defend his brother. Hop isn’t weak, but Chairman Rose has clearly already made up his mind on that particular point. If he wants make sure that whatever action they take won’t put Hop in the crossfire, he shouldn’t argue with the chairman any more than necessary. “What do you have in mind? I can’t just take back his letter of endorsement for no good reason.”

“Oh, you certainly can. But that’s not what I’m asking of you,” Chairman Rose says calmly. “I simply need you to…nudge him in the right direction.”

“You want me to tell him that he should quit the Gym Challenge,” Leon says flatly.

“Mm…don’t be so straightforward about it with him. But in essence, yes. If young Hop quits of his own accord, he’ll stop dragging down your good name and no one will know that we had anything to do with it. If anyone can convince him to do that, it’s you.”

Leon stares at Chairman Rose with his mouth dangling half-open, unable to form words to express just how appalling of a solution that is. The chairman has taken extreme measures to preserve Leon’s public image before, and Leon isn’t always happy with the role he has to play in them. But the chairman’s never asked him to do something as underhanded and manipulative as planting an idea in someone’s head – an idea that would make his brother miserable.

The last time he spoke to Hop, Hop had apologized to him for losing a battle. If he told Hop that those losses were starting to reflect poorly on him, how awful would Hop feel then?

Leon takes a deep breath, finally finding his voice. “No,” he declares. “No, absolutely not! I’m not going to – to trick my little brother into giving up the Gym Challenge to save face for myself!”

Chairman Rose sighs. “Fine, if you insist. I’ll just have to make some room in my schedule to go talk to him myself.”

“What? No, you can’t!” Leon exclaims, eyes widening.

“Why not?” Chairman Rose asks, raising an eyebrow. “I’m doing you a favor. You don’t want to have this conversation with your brother, so I’ll do it for you.”

“I don’t want anyone to have this conversation with my brother!”

“I’m sorry, Leon, but it has to be done. So, either you go talk to him, or I will.”

Leon folds his arms, considering his options. Letting Chairman Rose talk to Hop is the absolute worst one. Knowing him, he’d convince Hop to quit just by letting Hop think he’s too weak to complete the Gym Challenge, and he might even make Hop think that Leon wants him to quit. That’s the last thing Leon wants his brother to hear. If Leon talked to him, at least he could frame it as an opportunity to find something else to do with his life, something that would make Hop happier.

But even doing that would make Leon feel terrible – Hop’s dreamed of doing the Gym Challenge his whole life, and Leon wants to see him succeed. He wants to see Hop make it all the way through the Champion Cup and fight him for the title of Champion. And most importantly, he believes that Hop can do it. That’s what Hop really needs to hear.

“Chairman,” Leon says slowly, “I may be the Champion, but I’m also Hop’s brother. I’m supposed to support him, not tear him down. And I know how much he looks up to me. If he thought even for a moment that I didn’t believe in him, it would crush him.”

“So?”

“So, I’m not going to let you do something that would break my little bro’s spirits!” Leon retorts. “I’m not going to suggest to him that he should quit the Gym Challenge, and neither are you.”

Chairman Rose frowns. “I’m afraid that’s not an option, Leon.”

A rare flash of anger bubbles up in his chest. “Like hell it’s not!” he snaps, leaning forward in his seat. “Look, this is only necessary because Hop’s on a losing streak, right? So if I can get him out of this funk and back to winning, there’s no need for him to quit the Gym Challenge. I just need to talk to him.” His voice gets quieter, and his arms fall down to his sides. “Give me the chance to do that, Chairman. Please.”

It’s a desperate plea, but it seems to be enough. Chairman Rose is pragmatic, not heartless. He leans back in his chair, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Hmm. Has he challenged the Gym in Circhester yet?”

“No, sir. His battle’s scheduled at noon today.”

The chairman hums again, checking the time. “You won’t be able to make it there before it starts,” he muses. “Get going to Circhester, then. Talk to your brother. I expect to see improvement in his rematch.”

“And if he doesn’t need to rematch the Circhester Gym?” Leon asks.

“He will.”

Leon cracks a smile, even though he doesn’t feel like smiling. “I like to stay optimistic.”

“If he hasn’t improved in the rematch, I will be stopping by to have a word with him myself,” Chairman Rose adds.

Leon wants to protest, because if anyone has to tell Hop that he needs to drop out of the Gym Challenge, Leon would rather do it himself. But he’s already testing the limits of Chairman Rose’s generosity, and he’s hopeful that no one will need to tell Hop that at all. “Thank you, Chairman,” he says instead.

“That’s all. You’re dismissed.”

Leon nods, getting up from his chair and heading back towards the door. Rematches usually happen the day after the initial match, so he has about a day to figure out why Hop is struggling and help him work through it. Not quite as easy as a Pokémon battle, but still doable. And he can’t wait to see the look on Hop’s face when he finds out that Leon is visiting him in Circhester for a whole day.

By the time he reaches Oleana, still hovering outside Chairman Rose’s office, Leon’s not faking the smile on his face anymore.

[orsuliya]

Hi) Do you think Awu would be happy with Zitan? I think the best thing Daddy Wang did was to force het to marry XQ. I mean he knows his daughter well. I think all those men (Zitan, Helan Zhen, Huaien) who were in love with her, would eventually dissapoint her. Which happened pretty early with Zitan lol I think they all lived in a fantasy, without really realizing what kind of a woman she is. I think they happen to be compatiable with XQ on all the levels. And he is the only one that matches her spirit. And the one she truly admires and looks up to) Potato is the only one who got over his affection towards her and managed to treat her as a sister or a friend) Who knew)

Ah, I knew I couldn’t keep escaping this question forever. This is absolutely not a slight against you, Reasonably Potato-Friendly Nonnie, not at all. It’s... complicated.

Now, let us consider how could such a marriage even take place. Of course there is always the elopement, although in order for that to succeed Zitan would need to be much less... Zitan. But is there any possibility of getting Awu and Zitan hitched even earlier for the purpose of this exercise? Well, yes, there is.

I am not going to consider a pre-series betrothal if only due to Awu’s age. Besides, such a betrothal would be akin to putting a cat among pigeons, which is something that Daddy Wang might absolutely do... but not without a guarantee of proportionate gratification. Letting such an agreement stand for long - with no possibility of sealing the deal early - is a no go, not when every other party would try to tear it asunder, use it for their own purposes or strike preemptively just in case.

Yes, I know that Daddy Wang had no intention of giving Awu’s hand to any of the Ma princes. And certainly he wouldn’t be able to marry her off to Zitan, should Zilong still be free, not without alienating his sister completely by building up a rival claimant with his own two hands.

Of course Zilu works his magic and Wanru becomes Zilong’s Crown Princess; this opens new, exciting possibilities. Potato is off the table completely: surely Awu could never become a second wife and neither would the Xies agree to see Wanru degraded so. This makes the rather stubborn Empress Dowager malleable; now what?

Well, let’s say that Xiao Qi pulls a runner much, much earlier, about five minutes after catching and putting Awu down. Even then Daddy Wang wouldn’t be all that keen on having Zitan as his son-in-law... unless one of two impossible things happened:

Impossible Thing number 1. Daddy Wang decides that Potato is an evolutionary dead end and decides to change horses halfway through the race. No, I do not mean that he goes for an earlier coup. He simply elects to switch his prospective puppets; I have no idea why would he do that, but he totally could, you know. Potato gets mashed in mysterious circumstances, Zitan gets Awu... for about nine months or however long it takes them to produce an heir... and then chokes on his own flute the minute a son is born unto him. Or rather unto Daddy Wang, who snatches this shiny Platinum Ticket up immediately. Awu gets a sweet gig as an Empress Mother, should Daddy Emperor expire prematurely. And they all get killed by the wondrous duo of Zilu&Jianning. Or maybe not, since the governor of Huizhou would probably stay loyal in this scenario, giving Xiao Qi enough time to save everyone and their dog. As always. In this scenario there is every possibility that Awu wouldn’t become disappointed with Zitan... because he wouldn’t live long enough for that in any case. And even if there was enough time for that to happen, Daddy Wang would make sure there were no dark clouds to throw shade on their marriage… for as long as it actually lasted. Why am I so sure that Zitan would have to die in this scenario? Well, how else could Daddy Wang install his Platinum Ticket on the throne? The way I see it, in this case Daddy Wang might not even go for the throne himself; a grandchild is, after all, a wholly different thing from a grand-nephew.

Impossible Thing number 2. Daddy Wang gets hit with a low-flying brick and gets a truly genius idea of making peace with the Xies. Wanru is married to Potato, so if Awu gets married to Zitan, there is simply no way that either side could step out on this status quo by, let’s say, marrying a daughter off to Xiao Qi and his big bad army. The only problem is that nobody would take such an entente lying down. The Empress Dowager wouldn’t, since it basically halves her own power as a prospective Empress Mother. Zilu&Jianning wouldn’t, since a Wang-Xie alliance could force them to wave their own chances goodbye. And the Emperor certainly wouldn’t, not when much of his power derives from serving as a mediator between warring factions! Even for the Xies and the Wangs it makes little sense: why take half a pie when you can have it whole? Without an external factor forcing their cooperation, there’s just no way they would go for that, unless as a way to shore up their positions. But that is a strategy good for the currently weaker Xies, not for Daddy Wang! Damn, that would have to be one heavy brick! Anyway, this scenario requires both couples to take part in an elaborate court dance of precedence, power games and daily balancing between two factions. Otherwise it all comes toppling down. This dance is certainly something that Awu can do… but Zitan absolutely cannot, not with his tendency to act like an offended kindergartener every time his ego gets hurt. Potato is much more likely to swallow an insult or ten than Mr. Flute and Awu would quickly see her husband for the child he is. No long-lasting happiness to be found there, sorry.

In both these cases court life would quickly reveal Zitan’s true face. Oh, I doubt he would go full-blown villain in either scenario, regardless of his probable life expectancy. The problem is that Awu knows and loves Zitan as this happy, carefree prince. What concern is Cheng’s governance to Zitan? He’s the Emperor’s youngest, most beloved and most spoiled son, the one with a greatly favoured mother; in this family even the presumptive heir gets little to no actual preparation for ruling and neither does the most talented prince!

Marriage to Awu automatically catapults Zitan into the very centre of Cheng’s political scene. What is permissible and even cute in a favoured youngest princeling is catastrophic in a pillar of the Empire. And Awu? Awu would be there with him all the way; infinitely more capable and yet comparatively powerless. Because riddle me this: what happens once Zitan’s beloved wife starts to show him up? As she inevitably must, knowing them both. Somehow I don’t think he would glow with pride or boast about her accomplishments. We saw how Zitan treats most women in his life, how he treated Wanru when she was his best ally and even Su Jin’er while she served as his spy. Women are allowed to have their own agendas and interests… as long as their agenda is to make Zitan great (again), regardless of any actual pay-off for them and theirs.

Love… love would last for a while. But you see, Zitan exhibits another worrying tendency, which would show its ugly face sooner or later. Starting from the Huizhou arc, he no longer sees Awu as she is and stubbornly tries to make her fit the mold he constructed in his head. And that mold is designed in such a way as to make him, Zitan, shine. He came late to their elopement? He didn’t come late at all, she just didn’t wait! He’s the faithful lover here. That mold is also very, very stiff and not very big to begin with. Surely what Awu wants most is to be an Empress. She’s a Wang daughter and Wang daughters become Empresses, who cares what Awu actually thinks or feels. Oh, sorry, that’s the second mold he constructs, the first was Zitan’s little wife, completely satisfied with living somewhere far from the capital and listening to his dreadful poetry all day long. Yeah, that romantic fantasy? It could have never happened; while believing in it might be forgivable in a fifteen-year-old Princess, it’s rather less so in a Prince who may become a target at any moment due to the Xie-Wang rivalry.

Okay, I have no idea where this whole thing is going and it shows. Let’s look at the third impossible thing, namely what would happen should that bloody elopement end in a success.

Impossible Thing number 3. Awu and Zitan run away and for some reason Daddy Wang doesn’t track them down. Which would take him a week at most, since neither Awu nor Zitan are all that inconspicuous, unmarked golden leaf or not. Golden leaf of presumably imperial grade is hella suspicious even without any markings, so kudos to Jinruo. But then how could she know any better…? But let’s say Daddy Wang gives up. And so do the remaining Xies, who just lost their potential claimant. And so does Zilu, who would totally set a potential rival loose. And the Empress Not-Yet-Dowager, paranoid that Zitan could be plotting with provincial magnates. And the Emperor, once he wakes up! Not like he wanted to put Zitan on the throne, right? And so does every single other interested party who could use a nifty imperial figurehead of their own. So Awu and Zitan settle down in a small house somewhere in… somewhere. What then?

Well, that small house… While Awu might be able to live and even thrive in such circumstances, Zitan is made out of different clay. Who was it that complained about the Imperial Mausoleum, which was basically a palace; and who had her wedding night under the stars dealt splendidly in Ningshuo after the first cultural shock? Okay, let’s say he sees this new servant-less and palace-less life as his Glorious and Noble Sacrifice, which is the only way I can imagine him being more or less happy with it. He woud drive Awu mad in a month. Either she gets a husband who is visibly unhappy – even if he doesn’t actually say so – or one that keeps indirectly blaming her for their new circumstances.

Also, I don’t think Jinruo’s stash would last all that long, not if they wanted to keep some standard of living, not without replenishing it in some way. Surprisingly, they both have some rather marketable skills; Awu is good with budgeting, for example, and Zitan would make a credible music master or calligraphy teacher. They could be… reasonably happy with that? Although seeing as Zitan is perfectly content with sitting a whole year out in his room, doing… nothing, I can’t see him being all that eager to make an honest living.

Then children would come and with children usually come problems, pulling them both further into the daily grind. Now, Awu would probably be okay with that, but Zitan with his lofty ideals? Zitan, who wasn’t able to imagine how Awu could possibly love or do anything more than tolerate a mere soldier? Somehow I can’t see him being anything but deeply unhappy with this rather prosaic existence. And unhappy with being unhappy, because he should be ecstatic, right? He married his love, he fulfilled his dream! How can he feel so... so mopey about it?!

He would be unhappy and unhappy with being unhappy, and sooner or later he would start searching for somebody to blame. And Awu would take that blame, at least in the beginning. Not because she’s a doormat, no. Because without her loftly titles, without her family and her position, she would probably feel much more vulnerable. We know how she felt about being a traitor’s daughter and Xiao Qi did everything in his power to shore up her position, even as he assured her that it mattered not at all. Would Zitan be half as observant and supportive? Yeah, I don’t think so. Besides, there would be a grain of truth in Zitan’s accusations: while it wasn’t Awu who came up with this whole idea, it was her mother who organized the elopement. Zitan was the victim, a poor unknowing lamb led to the slaughter the boat.

And you know what? Even if no blame was being thrown around, even if they both found acceptable equilibrium in their daily lives, even if they both were more of less satisfied with their new existence… it would still be a bloody tragedy.

And no, I am not talking about their differing levels of maturity or the fact that I rather doubt that a man like Zitan would be able to keep a woman like Awu permanently satisfied in every aspect of their lives.

My main beef with the elopement scenario is the fact that Awu was born to move empires, not wither in some backwater. She’s designed to operate on an entirely different scale! For all that she may dream of having a pretty little house somewhere in Ningshuo, those dreams take on an entirely different flavour knowing that the man living with her in that pretty little house would be Xiao Qi. You don’t exactly need to decide the fate of empires yourself when you have a man who could easily do just that eating out of your hand. The level of satisfaction is more or less the same, I guess.  Note that even at the end Xiao Qi and Awu don’t give up power. They may choose to live quietly in their beloved Ningshuo, but the moment something goes really wrong? They will be back in the saddle in five minutes flat. That big bad army isn’t going anywhere either and that neat final voiceover? Gives us a pretty good idea as to their plans for the future:

grasslands + grateful and thus loyal manpower + big bad army = economical and military powerhouse + all benefits of being a vassal state + de facto independence

That’s no withering in obscurity, let me tell you! Not like living with Zitan under an assumed name would be.

ETA: Oh, I know what the question was! Do I think that Awu would be happy with Zitan? NOPE.