#i know a bunch of people who were bullied for the entirety of their time in school.

[mordcore]

just saw someone say "bullying ≠ a lifetime of abuse" and i just gotta mention: what a load of crap. bullying is abuse. and if you're bullied for a lifetime you have a lifetime of abuse. plain and simple.

[trashbins-stuff]

bin can handle it!! (except for the one time it cant) (ttc fan fanfic)

heads up: this work have angst, attempted murder, attempted suicide, actual suicide, and blood please dont read if it triggers you <3 also this is a 5+1 things (>v0) also i know bin should have die immediately but can u rlly blame a guy for wanting to romanticize his death? THIS IS HOW I COPE WITH MY DEATH U CANT TELL SOMEONE HOW TO GRIEF ESPICALLY WHEN THEY'RE GRIEFING THEMSELVES WAAAAAAA

"i can handle it!!"

"its doable!!"

"fuck it we balllll"

--

1.

Bin wipes the tear off his face, his dad had already stop banging on the door forever ago, probably off watching sport or something, Bin couldn't stop crying, whenever he thought he had calm down, another wave of sadness wash over him and he's wet again.

His mom sit across the mattress, Bin didn't want to talk to her, she'll say its his fault.

And maybe it was.

His dad isn't entirely at fault here. He's trying his best, Bin did too, but he guess it wasn't enough, his dad wouldn't chase him up here if it did, threatening to kill him and all that.

Even when his mom bought a bunch of books on parenting, he's the only one who even reads them, he didn't even plan on having kids, he was just bored.

But that's okay, so what if his dad tried to kill him and his mom was rarely ever there? that's okay!! Bin can handle a bit of loneliness, he have friends!! And his cousin sometime too!! Bin can manage this.

He stand up and unlock the door, repeating "I'm sorry, ba" like a mantra in his head.

2.

The four of them have been sticking together like glue in the entirety of elementary school.

Bin, Puffball Keychain, Baggy and Fluffy Carpet, that is.

They made craft together, they played the same game, Bin and Carpet raves over Melanie Martinez, hanging out in the school cafeteria afterschool, making up their own version of stories and songs they find in textbooks, the usual.

Bin thought it'll stay that way when they go to middle school.

It didn't.

For Carpet, they went to a different school, didn't have a choice.

For Puffball Keychain, too much had happen, didn't want to remember.

For Baggy, it's complicated, didn't know who we are.

That night, Bin cried and wept.

"Your personality is annoying, if you won't change, no one would want to be friend with you"

"I agree with her, sorry"

All those god damn EIGHT YEARS meant NOTHING to them, Pk have been there since 1st grade, sure, she abandon fem once in 2nd grade to hang out with Carpet and Baggy but that's seven years ago.

And Baggy were the nicest one, the kind one, and even she get tired of Bin, fey miss going to her house, they would play together with her cousin.

Now they barely look at each other.

And Bin was lonely.

But that's alright, Bin can still make new friends!! It's not the end of the world!! Fey can always start a new!! Bin can get through this.

And Bin met a new friend, Bin play more of the therapist role then best friends usually but that was fine, if it keep this friendship afloat, fey will do anything.

3.

Bin cried in class, she couldn't handle the bullying, the teasing, the isolation, she was EIGHT for frog's sake!! Would it kill them to be nice to her? She couldn't stop crying, through her wet glances, she can see her bullies staring back at her, and then one them spoke.

"Crocodile tears"

Bin feel something broke, she isn't sure what but she realized.

It's a dog-eat-dog world out there and if she want to survive, she's gonna need some mask and a tough persona. Bin can get use to this.

After years of kids leaving and joining the class, Bin found herself enjoy talking to a few kids, they still treat her differently but as long as they tolerate her, it was enough.

4.

Bin feel ugly, a bit on physical but mostly mentally, it didn't like when people commented on it's efforts.

"Your hair look like a bird nest, when was the last time you brush it?" they'll touch its hair without its consent and try to brush it, its hurts like its scalp is going to be ripped out in any minutes.

"Your a female, why are your hand writing worse than all the boys?" it was trying its best, it put so much time writing and making it look legible, and this is the thanks it get? Tch, figures.

"..bla bla bla..."

It didn't want to change, it didn't like how they look at it, there's always something that separate it form other people, that wall have been there since forever. No one needed it, no one wanted it.

It didn't want itself either.

It never asked to be here, it never looked forward to it's existent. But Bin fix this.

Over years it thinks, Bin start to love parts of itself that it had previously hate, Bin start to feel a bit better. But what is it even-?

5.

Bin couldn't tell, if the kid died from bashing their head or the stab wound. Either way they're laying on the kitchen floor, looking at the lights above, not from heaven-they just have a long lightbulb in their kitchen.

They roll their head back to look at their other self, Bin immediately look away, after staring for a second or two, their gaze went back to the lights.

Bin walk to the chair and turn on the tv.

Leaving the kid to bleed out and die.

Leaving Bin to bleed out and die.

A year later, a soaking wet Bin was walking to it's bedroom, it was it's cousin birthday today, but its not time to eat yet. It walk in and its eye turn left.

Bin found the same kid with the fan's string tied around their neck.

They couldn't even get a proper rope.

Bin couldn't even get a proper rope.

"We gotta stop meeting like this"

"..."

The kid stood up and walk away, leaving Bin alone in it's bedroom

--

1.

With a thud, Bin fall down on the cold hard floor in Galaxy Journal's lab.

He wasn't the best person, he had done a lot of wrongs, he had done a lot of rights too, maybe he'll end up in purgatory, or are we all clotted in the same afterlife? like Journal said, or will he be reincarnated? or maybe there's nothing after death at all.

He doesn't know, and that scare him a little.

A part of her still hopes, a part of her still hope that maybe, just maybe, Journal would burst through that door any second now and fix her up. Or if it's too late, she still hopes that someone-anyone! would kick down that dammed door and hold her, hold her tight.

Her death would have looked cuter in someone's arm.

She want to be held, one last time.

The door didn't even budge.

So (So)

Instead (Instead)

It's (It's)

Gonna (Gonna)

Die (Die)

As (As)

Lonely (Lonely)

As (As)

It (It)

Felt (Felt)

Last (Right)

Night (Now)

But at least Journal's lab have a very nice ceiling.

And the maggots will surely enjoy my rotten flesh.

Classic Bin, always so silly, but i fear your positivity will not save you this time.

Bin took it's last breath in the dark lab, alone.

Becoming as cold as the blood-covered floor below it.

The cassette tape sits on the table, it contain words contradicting what Bin have said the night before.

And the lab fell silent once more.

Bin might have ended it all right then and there.

But the Earth will keep on spinning.

And tomorrow will be a brand new day.

"Remember Me".

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: Haiiii this is the end, i hope u enjoy it!! htis is my first fic so plz go easy on me,,,<3 thanks for reading :3

Also all the things that happen to bin may or may not actually happen irl hehe-

words count: 1,244

[mayoanddelight]

Take me Home.

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: Mistakes and heartbreak were always a danger to Spencer's love life. But would one of them survive to tell its tale?

C.W: Angsty boi mixed with a roll of fluff, mentions of a murder (not in graphic detail), witnessing a murder (not in detail), mentions of verbal fighting, self deprecating thoughts, mentions of Maeve, angst with happy ending.

W.C: 4.5k

Masterlist

This is for @imagining-in-the-margins Reunion Trope challenge ! And speshal ✨ thanks to @vanessagib and @letarasstuff for helping lil' ol' moi with this story! (Don't mind me, insecurities got the best of me XD)

A huge mention to @all-tings-diego for being the lovely moon to my sun. Have something for you here 😉. Also for the beloved Nesquik.

A/N: I hope ya'll like this, I tried making it a little less wordy!! Key word, tried.

The beauty of change is often spoken fondly upon, bloomed upon the garden of lies that only serve the purpose to deceive the oblivious and unknowing. To inflict pain and heartbreak when it isn't needed by pushing a person towards their doom and destruction. The inevitability of being subjected to it makes the reality even more harsh; having no choice but to succumb to the game of fate.

Spencer never believed in fate, each and everything he faced in the entirety of his life was just a product of finely placed dominos—an illustration of how his actions and of those around him implemented to his past, present and future—which collapses into unnecessary helplessness.

That feeling of impending worthlessness when he handed his unknowing mother over to a mental institution when she clearly didn't want to. Cursing him out turned to clinging onto him, begging him not to leave her there with a bunch of suspicious strangers who'd do god knows what to her. Might've been a plot of karma, taking his mother's revenge for him for when the people he loved, left him, giving him a half hearted goodbye through just a clot of ink. But never a proper one. Leaving him to mourn a memory.

The change in his life was always tiring, a piece of his heart breaking, falling like a withering rose, each person, each event and each victim he failed to save, pushes the sensitive purity of the petal to collapse and fall into an abyss. Dark and never ending, with no way out nor any way to save himself.

For a while, he had his saving grace, in the form of his chosen family but each of those who he held close to his heart, left. With only a distant memory of them to keep him company. Just a few materialistic and shallow means of what once was reality is now anything but. And the people who chose to stay didn't fully accept him for who he was. All his interests were answered with an annoyed eye roll or them simply just leaving in the middle of the one sided conversation. They say time heals, and after over a decade he should be expecting it, but it never stopped hurting. Even if he was used to it.

The only time he truly felt at home was under the watchful and curious young eyes of his students, soaking in everything he had to say, even if most of them were just auditing. For once in his life, he felt like he was making a change. That he was a part of something big, even though if it was just temporary. Outside of the violence and brutality of his job, where fighting the demons of the society was an everyday task but it never made anyone safe, for once they were caught, two more would take their place.

For him, teaching was a change of pace. When everything around him went haywire, all from him being bullied for being himself to being falsely arrested and having lost who he once was just for the sake of his survival. He now had stability and control; with a standard job with a fixed time and a choice of what to teach. It was as if his luck changed, after all this time.

After all this heartbreak. It seemed his life was pacing towards happiness. Because through a stroke of luck he found someone to hold, to love. And who would love and support him unconditionally with his countless flaws.

He could remember the day as if it was yesterday. He was at the library, picking and choosing from the seemingly endless supply of books. He'd always visit the library at least once, the mixed colour of various shades of brown provided him a wave of comfort. The only place he could succumb into his mind, to travel everywhere just through a flip of a page, when his college folks picked on him for being a frail and young boy. Acceptance and love was all he wanted, all he longed for, yet whenever a token of friendship was presented to him the act of deceit followed in the form of being tied to a pole with the hope of friendship all gone, just bitter memories of them keeping him company. All alone with no one helping him. In the cold and dark till cries of the night took pity on him.

Following his ritual, of choosing a book he wanted to read, going to his favourite comfy red couch located in a relatively isolated corner, where he could be. Alone. With his thoughts running his mind as he quickly cruised through his book. It was "Wuthering Heights" this time around, acting as a silent lament to when his mother would read it to him. He silently caressed the smooth cover of the book as he went towards his self proclaimed designated seat. It was as if his body knew where to go—purely on muscle memory—twisting and turning through the maze like library, only to find out that his favourite spot seemed to be occupied. A woman to be more specific. Laying on the couch with her legs rocking from the ends of it as she seemingly enjoyed her book.

He awkwardly shifted in his spot, his eyes lingering at his desired seating, then walked to move from there without wanting to disturb the beauty that inhabited that place. But of course, these things never go his way, her eyes snapped towards him in silent alarm. Just as he was about to leave her alone, a wave of recognition flickered through her eyes. As a soft smile graced her face.

"Dr.Reid, Right?" She nodded at him, though phrased as a question, he knew that it was a matter of fact. By the looks of her, she looked young. Probably in her late 20's or early 30's. Either here for educational purposes or a teaching position. "The Criminology Professor." A statement this time.

She seemed like a laid back person, not caring of what people think of her judging by her position on the couch. But by the looks of her attire—semi professional but comfortable—she does care about the impression she makes. Playful yet bordering proper. And by the looks of the worn out copy of 'Dead Man Do Tell Tales' she might be interested in Forensic Anthropology. Before he could offer her a response, she continued to introduce herself. The Professor for the Anthropology unit.

Though with his experience of working as a profiler, and hunting serial killers for a huge chunk of his life. Convincing them is a trial that is similar to a ticking bomb, triggered and to be exploded at any moment. Yet he's still as awkward as he was when he entered the premises of the BAU, introducing himself to the intimidating strangers with a slight wave of hand. So he did what he always did when he was nervous. His safe ground. His facts.

"Did you know, a forensic anthropologist can estimate the age, sex, ancestry, and stature of human remains, as well as estimate the time since death and interpret trauma to the skeleton. Which also allows them to determine if the damage to the bone was caused before or after the death, respectfully, either post or anti mort—which you would, of course know judging by the book" He waved his hand towards the battered book she was holding. A look of amusement and excitement flashed on her face.

"Talking about books, I see you're reading Wuthering Heights, A literary classic." She gestured to his book that he fidgeted against. Sort of acting as a buffer for him, as another calming method.

"You have read it?" He tilted his head in question, his gaze now shifting towards her face to her legs that were rhythmically rocking. Back and forth.

"If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be; and if all else remained, and he were annihilated. I'm sure something about the universe was mentioned, my dumbass brain doesn't remember it.” She gave a pregnant pause, to remember what she had forgotten. Eventually and inevitably giving up with a shrug.

"Usually a cup of coffee works like a charm" He quipped back, his lips stretching into his signature smile. Her eyes widened in surprise as she processed what he said. It was at that moment he realized what he had said. He held is his breathe until she cracked a smile.

"Smooth. I know a great coffee place" She unraveled herself from the comfortable red couch and led the both of them towards a possibility of a sweet life.

That was it. That was the moment he met his future. That was the moment when his future was writing itself to the better. After drowning in the deep and dark depth of the sea for so long, desperately trying to find something to cling onto, he finally got a breath of fresh air, found through a quirky and outgoing professor who loved the classics of literature as much as him.

But as unfortunate as Spencer's life was, everything good eventually comes to an end, it's only just a matter of time. It was as if time went slowly when he got a call from her. It was nearly midnight and he was at work trying to finish as much paperwork as he could complete so that he could take the weekend off. Sipping on his sweet coffee to stop him from dozing off, but what worked well was an unprompted call from his girlfriend. He answered it with a grin, expecting nothing of it. How could he have known that that one call would change his life. The feeling of peace he felt whenever he was with her quicky transformed into terror.

"Spencer he- there was so much blood-" She seemed delirious, in shock. But the choppy words she managed to spew out told a horrendous tale of someone bleeding out. He wished it wasn't her, it wasn't his love that was hurt, bleeding out all alone. Clenching his bag, he rolled his tongue through his lips in an attempt to clear his racing mind.

"Moon- Mooney, breathe. Tell me where you are?" But the only reply he got was her huffing, taking in quick short breathes, if any of this continued she might just pass out, out in an unknown place, completely unsafe. He'd have to work fast to get her whereabouts. Bouncing his legs turned to pacing when her silence prolonged.

"Mooney, Are you there?" Her safety was a priority for him. He didn’t want to lose another girlfriend, when there was a chance he could save her. He didn’t want the same thing happening to his Moon, that happened to Maeve.

"I think he's following me- he saw me run. Spencer, I'm scared. He has a gun!" That wasn't what he expected. Alarms blared in his head as he ran his hand though his hair. Panic rose to his throat, this was a life and death situation. Clenching his teeth, he repeated his question inquiring about her whereabouts. Thankfully this time she was conscious enough to tell him where she was. Now he just had to work fast enough to get to her. Grabbing his gun and badge, he made a run for the stairs, making sure that his girlfriend was still on the phone. Or tried to. His beloved unit chief was blocking his way.

'Oh for fuck sakes' he didn't really have time for this, literally. Clenching and unclenching his jaw, he finally met Prentiss's eyes. Her eyes were fixed on him, clearly glimmering with worry and concern, she must’ve seen him pace and came to check on him. Crossing her arms, she kept her gaze trained on him. She wanted answers.

"Reid, everything alright?" Was everything alright? No. Nothing was alright. Nothing was ever alright. But he forced himself to shake his head. He was worried, and scared. All he wanted was his loved ones to be safe and sound. Was that a hard wished to come true? Considering his track record, apparently so.

"It's my girlfriend, she's in trouble!" He mumbled out, as if saying it aloud would make it even more real.

Something flashed through Emily's eyes, a feeling of fear grew, which she covered. Like hell would she allow something to happen to her family. Grabbing her car keys, she marched towards the elevator like a woman on a mission. Until she realized that Spencer wasn't following her, just staring at her like a hurt puppy.

"Come on Reid, now's not the time to go slow on me." Instead of bickering with her to change her mind, he decided that it'd be logical for Emily to drive while his mind was on an overdrive, sifting through countless things that might happen to his girlfriend.

When the duo reached to their destination, Spencer instantly ran out of the car, not waiting for it to stop. Completely disregarding Emily's cries of protest. He just wanted to know his love was alright. Passing through a seemingly endless seam of maze, he finally saw her. She was curled into a ball, with her head hidden between her legs. He called out her name which caused her to jump, she must’ve been so scared. The sheer fear and panic on her face softened the moment she saw Spencer. Opening her arms, she silently asked for a hug, which he instantly gave. Rocking her against his body like a mother would to calm her child all while whispering calming words and unsaid promises.

His Moon was completely silent, other than the occasional sniffs. The only time she spoke was when they decided to take her to her own apartment to which she responded with a hysterical 'No!'. The car ride to Spencer's house was tense to say the least. He was sitting in the back with his girl. Trying to get an answer out of her, but all she did was look out the window. Her gaze jumping about from the sights that passed her yet it had no emotion in it.

His ears were ringing, he couldn’t think straight. After the group of three reached to Spencer's apartment, with some convincing, they managed to get the tale of endless horror she felt and faced, the death she'd seen and most importantly the perpetrator. The cold yet thrilled eyes that had no mercy as he ran after her like he was a predator and she, the prey.

Emily glanced at Spencer and then to the sweet person she had gotten the pleasure to befriend, knowing what had to be done. She wouldn’t be safe here, not with a psychotic killer on the loose who completely knew her identity. Even if Spencer decided to try and help his girlfriend, the section chief won’t allow an asset to be bound in something they'd think isn't as worthwhile. It was at times like these that Emily really hated her position as unit chief, it would be hard for her to break rules without having her team to face the consequences. She also knew that her suggestion would be reflected with copious amounts of disagreement from her friend.

“Reid, can we talk?” Emily glanced at Spencer’s girlfriend, she didn’t want the already fragile girl to be even more stressed, “in private.” Nodding her head towards the door to emphasise her point.

“Can't it wait?” He really didn’t want to leave his girlfriend at a time like this. But one look at Emily’s grave expression gave him the answer. Begrudgingly he left the room to listen to what she had to say.

It felt as if he had it all in one moment and lost her in the next, just as the word 'Witsec' ran out of Emily's mouth. Why did everything fall for him, and for the people he loved? JJ was forced to leave the Pentagon, Emily died, Hotch left and now his girlfriend had to leave. He couldn’t have that. He couldn’t have another person he cared so deeply about to leave. 

The battle of whispers turned to arguing, both not backing down from their stance. Each of them trying to make the other see from their perspective. The raised voices caught her attention, she could tell what they were talking about. A choice, though a choice seemed like an exaggeration, on sending her to Witsec because of what she had witnessed. Fidgeting with her necklace—a gift Spencer gave her—she had made a decision.

“I’ll go” A soft but determined voice called out. Even her voice lacked its usual cheeriness. Her decision led to another uproar, wasn't it her choice to keep her family safe. Her decision to make until it was safe for her to come back home.

"I can't let you go, not like this!" At this point the unshed tears travelled freely on his cheek. He wanted to help her. To keep her safe from the monsters that hid in the deception of man. To protect her from the man she saw today. Yet again, his protests went unanswered. Batted over the moment his love made her decision. Why weren't they listening to him? All he wanted was his family to never part from him or each other.

She took a step closer to him, grasping his hand into her cold one. Squeezing it gently to calm him down, at least partially. Her touch always did work wonders, but for now it just increased the panic Spencer felt. Locking eyes with hers he could see it clearly, she had given up. She was tired, scared and worried. Bile rose in his throat, this was starting to feel like a goodbye now.

"Don't" His voice cracked, as he haphazardly shook his head. He wasn't ready for this. After Maeve, Max, hell even Cat, he didn’t want to lose her. He didn’t want to have another name on that never ending list of heartbreak.

But there was no use of fighting about it further, as much as it irked him, but she had made her decision. He really loved her stubbornness but not when he was at the receiving end of it. So for now, he'd support her through her decision. Valuing her safety over her being, perhaps, miles away from him. He had to let her go for the time being. And until then he'd fight and search every nook and cranny for that man who decided to steal her from him. No matter how long it would take.

Five months, five long months had passed since she had witnessed something that lived in her nightmares. That dictated her life to the point that the life she's living wasn't her own. Long gone was the Professor of the Anthropology unit, the former medical examiner. Now she was Vanessa Hart, an ordinary woman with a blue collar job as a server at a small coffee shop.

She felt miserable. She had lost everything she held valuable. Her job, Spencer, and her life. They say time makes the heart grow fonder, but it was pure torture. The only thing keeping her intact was her necklace, the only piece she had of the man she loves. She usually found herself longing to hear his voice, a song that hadn’t sung for her in a while. The way his voice raised its lilt when he was talking about something that interested him while his hands moving around expressing his excitement. How he narrowed his eyes when he'd be trying to figure something out. And most of all, she missed how he used to call her Mooney.

For the past 5 months, she'd have to greet customers with a smile, when she was dying inside as all the pieces that made her, her were chipping away. She wasn't herself. She was Vanessa. And will be until her family get's her out of this hell hole. Dealing with rude people when she had done nothing wrong, they lacked basic human decency.

There were times everything got too much and she just wanted to curl up into a ball and cry into the arms that seemed like a distant memory. But she had no one, no one she could rant to or lean over. She had a friend, of course. Rebecca, the twenty one year old who was juggling university and a job. She was cheery and outgoing, reminding her of who she used to be. However, there was no one who knew what she was going through, other than the agency who ran weekly checks on her wellbeing.

Today, was like any other day. Like clockwork, she'd leave for her job at nine in the morning with a smile plastered on her face. Nothing to show that she was drowning in the persona that was created for her. And then at five in the afternoon she'd start wrapping things up to leave, to go back to her ratty old apartment.

"Oof, woman, you've got bad luck coming at ya" Oh great, more bad luck, thank you for the warning Rebecca but the shark was way too near for her to run, Aka Mean Marge, the manager. Damn she was really looking forward to clocking out for the day. But no, she was asked to stay. Overtime without extra pay. Well now she'd have to cancel her plans to drinking cheap wine all alone until she could forget about the day. Or her life.

"Fan-fucking-tastic" She grumbled, Rebecca hid her smile as she continued to wipe the counter.

"Language" Rebecca gently chided. Is she for real now? Rebecca was younger than her! She's allowed to cuss. She's a grown woman damn it! Let her drown in her self pity with her trusty companion—curse words.

"Oh shut– hush! They're just jargons of the daring." Of fuc- of course Rebecca's glare works wonders, She can't even cuss in her own thoughts.

"Keep your jargons related to coffee, not crude crusty cusses." Crusty what? She takes it back. She was nothing like Rebecca in her past. Rolling her eyes, she goes back to work. Grumbling under her breath each time when Rebecca is in her line of sight. She might act it, but she wasn't annoyed or irritated by Becca'. Quite frankly, the young girl gave her a way out from her life. A ray of sunshine in her storm. But she'll never tell the twenty one year old, simply because there's no fun in that.

In the course of the rest of their shift, The two girls conversed and completed their work. Everything was going smooth, no rude customer or anything, all until closing time. The bell rung signalling that a customer entered the coffee shop. Oh hell no, she was too tired for this shit. She ducked under the counter, dodging the questioning stare from Rebecca.

"Hello there, what would you like to order today?" she heard Rebecca's cheery voice greet whoever thought it'd be an appropriate time to get coffee at closing time. She'd have continued her inner rant if it wasn't for the familiar voice that replied.

"Hi! I'd like to order a-" No, it couldn’t be. Was it really him? She slowly came out of her hiding place to see if it was really true. If her boyfriend had finely come to take her home.

"Spencer" she said breathlessly, taking all of him in, he looked the same. Though his hair grew out a bit, giving it more of a wild look, but he looks perfect as ever. His eyes snapped towards her, widening at the sight before him.

Usually in movies this was the time they'd run to each other and share a kiss. Unfortunately for her, her body stopped working. She didn't, no, she couldn’t move. So she just stood where she was with happy tears passing down her cheeks. It was not until someone cleared their throat, did she break from her trance and ran towards her boyfriends waiting arms.

Safe, that was the first feeling she felt when her love wrapped his arms around her. After months of looking over her shoulder, to see if she was being followed or not, she could finally relax. Relax at the life she could live without the constant paranoia, and without the pain in the ass coffee shop. Fully merged in the tranquility and peace his arms provided, until a realization washed over here like ice cold water.

"Wait, Spence, is he?" Pulling away from him and his lingering touch to meet his eyes. His eyes glassy, matching hers as he nodded in confirmation. He couldn’t contain his smile nor his feelings when he grabbed her face and kissed her. She was finally going home.

"Someone gonna tell me what the frick frack snick snack is going on here?" Their celebratory kiss was cut short by Rebecca's question. Oh yea, she forgot there was someone else with them. The reunited couple broke apart, though not fully, Spencer's hand took its place on her waist keeping her close.

"It's a long ass story with a lot of cream and salty donuts. And by cream, I mean crime and by salty donuts I mean tears. Agressive and snot everywhere." Spencer shook his head affectionately at his moon, even after all this time her sense of humour was still intact.

"Wait, what?"

"What she means to say is, she saw something she shouldn't have and had to be sent away for her own safety" He corrected the vague and incriminating tale his girlfriend was telling. One day she'll really get into trouble for that.

"I've been doing a lot of that stuff lately" Rebecca muttered, a slight blush tinted her face in embarrassment as she remembered what she witnessed just a few moments before.

As happy that moment was for her, she'd never thought about what she'd leave when she returns to her home. To be very honest, she had lost all hope that she would even return. But as she thought about it she would really miss Rebecca and her odd pet peeve with cuss words. She's really starting to hate this. Constantly going away, leaving people who she learned to love and care about. Tearful goodbyes and promises were shared between the two friends. Just as the duo exited the coffee shop. To leave this life behind, she paused.

"Hey, Becca. If Mean Marge ever gets too much, hit me up. I will irritate the shit out of her! Bitch will have nothing on me!" Rebecca cracked a smile, though it seemed bittersweet. One last hug was shared between them before the couple left. Hand in hand, ready for wherever their life might lead them.

In the end, life might be a series of mistakes waiting to be triggered. To fall and weep for the losses it caused in collateral. But in the eyes of the future they are also a form of art. Each piece, as painful as it is, creates a path. A path that could lead to a better life.

🎶 Take me Home when it's all over 🎶

[thedreamermusing]

Harry identified with and reluctantly admired Snape even before ‘The Prince’s Tale’

So, 'Albus Severus' is admittedly is a controversial name in fandom due to Snape's own dubious morality. And people also think that Harry going from hatred to admiration of Snape so quickly is unrealistic. But, that's not true. There's no doubt that Harry hated Snape, but amid that hatred, there was also reluctant admiration and even identification with Snape. Let's see a few examples:

Harry did not speak; he felt that to say anything might be dangerous. He was sure he had just broken into Snape’s memories, that he had just seen scenes from Snape’s childhood, and it was unnerving to think that the crying little boy who had watched his parents shouting was actually standing in front of him with such loathing in his eyes. . . .

Probably the first time Harry is looking at Snape as anything more than his hated Potions professor. But it is still significant considering Harry's own abusive childhood.

His reaction to Snape's Worst Memory:

What was making Harry feel so horrified and unhappy was not being shouted at or having jars thrown at him — it was that he knew how it felt to be humiliated in the middle of a circle of onlookers, knew exactly how Snape had felt as his father had taunted him, and that judging from what he had just seen, his father had been every bit as arrogant as Snape had always told him.

His immediate reaction after watching Snape's memory is to empathise with Snape, because he knows what it's like to be bullied in front of a crowd.

We also get hints of how similar Snape and Harry are. Even Hermione comments on it:

Did you hear him talking about the Dark Arts? He loves them! All that unfixed, indestructible stuff —” “Well,” said Hermione, “I thought he sounded a bit like you.”

“Like me?”

“Yes, when you were telling us what it’s like to face Voldemort. You said it wasn’t just memorizing a bunch of spells, you said it was just you and your brains and your guts - well, wasn’t that what Snape was saying? That it really comes down to being brave and quick-thinking?”

Hermione comments on how they both sound similar. Snape and Harry do have a lot in common as we will find out later, but this is one of the first hints of another character noticing it.

But imo, the largest culmination of Harry's reluctant admiration is in the case Snape's old textbook, when he called himself the Half-blood Prince. This is teen Snape; Snape as Lily knew him, Snape without all the baggage that he has with Harry. And what is Harry's opinion of him?

Harry woke early on the morning of the trip, which was proving stormy, and whiled away the time until breakfast by reading his copy of Advanced Potion-Making. He did not usually lie in bed reading his textbooks; that sort of behavior, as Ron rightly said, was indecent in anybody except Hermione, who was simply weird that way. Harry felt, however, that the Half-Blood Princes copy of Advanced Potion-Making hardly qualified as a textbook. The more Harry pored over the book, the more he realized how much was in there, not only the handy hints and shortcuts on potions that was earning him such a glowing reputation with Slughorn, but also the imaginative little jinxes and hexes scribbled in the margins, which Harry was sure, judging by the crossings-out and revisions, that the Prince had invented himself.

Harry's admiration is practically dripping through the pages. He's staying up at night reading the book, admiring the boy who was so clever.

One of the most interesting lines is also this:

“My dad used this spell,” said Harry. “I — Lupin told me.” This last part was not true; in fact, Harry had seen his father use the spell on Snape, but he had never told Ron and Hermione about that particular excursion into the Pensieve. Now, however, a wonderful possibility occurred to him. Could the Half-Blood Prince possibly be —?

Harry is so attached to Snape's old textbook that he wishes it was his father. Harry is hungry for father figures and the fact that he elevates the Prince to this kind of figure from just his textbook is significant. It shows the lost potential between Harry and Snape. Who is the Prince but a younger Snape? It shows that had Snape been a little less bitter and damaged, he could have been a mentor figure for Harry.

These two have so much in common: their lives are defined by Voldemort and they're not truly free until he's dead, they're both half-bloods who grew up in the muggle world, they both suffered abusive childhoods, they were both bullied, they're both sarcastic and dry, they both can get very vicious (Snape more so obviously), they're both completely loyal to Dumbledore, they're both brave and stubborn as hell. I truly believe that had Snape not been so blind, he could have been a great father figure for Harry simply because of how similar they are and how much they could relate to each other.

He felt stunned; it was as though a beloved pet had turned suddenly savage; what had the Prince been thinking to copy such a spell into his book? And what would happen when Snape saw it? Would he tell Slughorn — Harry’s stomach churned — how Harry had been achieving such good results in Potions all year? Would he confiscate or destroy the book that had taught Harry so much…the book that had become a kind of guide and friend? Harry could not let it happen…He could not…

Harry thinks of the Prince as a friend and guide.

“Will you stop harping on about the book!” snapped Harry. “The Prince only copied it out! It’s not like he was advising anyone to use it! For all we know, he was making a note of something that had been used against him!”

“I don’t believe this,” said Hermione. “You’re actually defending —“

“I’m not defending what I did!” said Harry quickly. “I wish I hadn’t done it, and not just because I’ve got about a dozen detentions. You know I wouldn’t’ve used a spell like that, not even on Malfoy, but you can’t blame the Prince, he hadn’t written ‘try this out, it’s really good’ — he was just making notes for himself, wasn’t he, not for anyone else…”

Even after 'Sectumsempra', Harry defends the Prince like this. As a side note, I also think that Harry's relationship with the Prince somewhat mirrors Lily's relationship with Snape. They both admired and loved the boy who was so clever and imaginative and were willing to blind themselves as that boy went deeper into the dark side.

He broke off, looking out of the window. He could not stop himself dwelling upon Dumbledore’s inexcusable trust in Snape…but as Hermione had just inadvertently reminded him, he, Harry, had been taken in just the same…in spite of the increasing nastiness of those scribbled spells, he had refused to believe ill of the boy who had been so clever, who had helped him so much..

This is after Snape killed Dumbledore, and Harry's primary feeling about the Prince is one of betrayal. Ultimately, I believe Harry's relationship with the Prince is pivotal in his understanding of Snape, and I firmly believe that this also informed his decision to name his son after Snape. After watching Snape's dying memories, Harry's admiration of the Prince returned and merged with his feelings towards Snape. It is no coincidence that the chapter revealing Snape's true allegiance is called 'The Prince's Tale', telling us that Snape truly is the same Prince Harry admired and wished was his father.

Harry's feelings towards Snape after the Prince's tale is obvious. Throughout Snape's memories, he identifies with him, not James. He immediately notices that James has an air of being loved and adored while Snape conspicuously lacks it. He cannot bring himself to watch Snape's Worst Memory again. After watching the memories, he identifies with both Snape and Tom Riddle as 'the abandoned boys' who were outcasts and only found their home in Hogwarts.

In short, I believe Harry's admiration of Snape was not sudden or inexplicable but something he always reluctantly felt. He identified with Snape even when he hated him. Once he saw Snape's memories in his entirety, he understood and identified with them even more because Harry has been in Snape's shoes. He's been a dark-haired, abused, bullied, half-blood outcast. And he knows how hard it is to be brave in those circumstances. While the readers might have trouble understanding why Snape would have a child named after him, Harry doing so is not a surprise.

[singlecelledthot]

🗣RONNIE!!! May I have Kuai’s titties drenched him in his own cum😬

💕I may have taken this a whole different direction than intended, but I promise, you get what you asked for!💕

Whisper, Whisper!- Solo Tundra/Kuai Liang (mentions of Fem!Reader) Warnings: NSFW, masturbation, solo male, pining, edging, Summary: Kuai Liang just can't keep it in anymore, you're driving him fucking crazy.

Tags: @lilliannmac @icy-spicy

Quietly, Kuai Liang stole into his room, pushing his way into privacy at last. Outwardly, Kuai was taciturn as he began the arduous process of removing his armor. His fingers worked slow and steady, pulling leather straps, tugging off strings and belts and letting each hardened piece of armor slide off to the floor. It wasn’t until he was left in his basics; unrestrained by claustrophobic gear, and sat down on the edge of his sleeping cot, that his jaw muscle quivered. He clenched his teeth, working them against each other as the roiling emotions in his belly churned up into his throat, threatening to gag him.

Would your cruelty know no end?

The entire day you both had gone about business as usual. He performing his duties with the Lin Kuei in training, patrolling to the grounds and attending the Grandmaster when summoned. And you, spending your time strapping fighters with tape, bandaging wounds and reorganizing and scheduling (bullying) young assassins into their physicals. As a medical authority in the clan, you always had a reason to put your hands on him, and at first it had been benign for the both of you. But as the months rolled into years, you two had somehow managed to grow close, stranger still that you both did so without the normally stilted way that he flirted with women getting in the way. Almost every encounter now, three years after you had first met, was fraught with some sort of temptation. He delighted in your touch, your whispers as you purred innuendo into his ear when you would bandage his injuries. You would always teased then retreat, laughing and smiling in a way that found his eyes glued to the soft swell of your bottom lip. He smiled rarely, flirted back even less, but always spoke softly, never chasing you from his close proximity with coldness or the blunt superiority people like his brother and Sketor threw around. No, it was clear he wanted you there, at his side, with your hands soothing the pain from his body---and yet.

Lately it had been altogether too much, and not enough. You lingered, growing more bold, sneaking touches even in mixed company where the act would cause sweat to bead at the back of his neck each time your fingers ghosted over his skin. It had slowly begun to strain him, pulling him taut like a piano wire, poised to snap with the vicious twang of a clever finger.

Who could have foreseen that, that day was the final stroke that sealed his fate?

You had tutted over him as you always did, fussing at either his carelessness or his sparring partner’s foolishness. This time it had been a spar with Bi-Han that had done it, coming in the form of a back hand landing on his jaw so hard Kuai's neck had snapped to the side and sent him sprawling. When his ears stopped ringing he overheard the harsh trill of your voice barking out at the more subdued tone of his brother. Kuai had blinked away the momentary loss of consciousness, sat up and was immediately set upon by you now that you had taken your pound of flesh from Bi-Han. Your hands were on his face in seconds, stroking along his jaw where he’d been hit, tapping gently on his scalp and through his hair--the sound he made was easily passed off as a groan of pain and he made no move to speak in agreement or otherwise.

“Tundra,” Were your eyes always this bright? “I cannot believe you would go out of your way to ignore me when I TELL you not to do full contact directly after a mission.” Were your fingers always this warm?

He had blinked owlishly, staring from you to his brother who stood behind you. “I cannot believe that your ability to listen is worse than Sub-Zero’s...” That was what had done it, that one little comment spoken in genuine exasperation. He loved his brother, he never felt lesser when it came to Bi-Han and he had never before experienced jealousy over something so small. It’s how he found himself where he was now, fists clenching so hard his bones creaked.

The wire finally snapped.

Kuai Liang stood up as he kicked a small side table that sat near the head of his cot, sending the object flying across the room to bang against a wall. Clearly broken. He continued on in relative silence, beyond the harshness of his strained breathing, clenching his jaw to keep the shout building in his throat behind his teeth. Pacing back and forth across the length of his room, he recalled how smug Bi-Han looked as you compared the brothers, how your small hand had gripped his sore jaw firmly and you held his gaze as you glared into his very soul. And he throbbed from the want. The sheer desperation for you came upon him like a typhoon, whipping up how he perceived your friendship and smashing it to pieces before settling, and what was left was a fractured and terrible need. His cock lay heavy and thick across his thigh, angled down his pant leg, each time the coarse fabric of his pants slid across his aching flesh, he had to fight the urge to growl. He’d been hard since you grabbed his chin and forced him to hold your eye contact.

How had he not realized how quickly these feelings had been building? How had he not seen this coming from a mile away? How could he have ignored the small ways his body screamed at him to heed it? To pursue you?

It punished him now for his negligence, Kuai let himself lean back heavily on the edge of his cot, palming the painful hardness of his cock. He was breaking, shattering like so many shards of ice across the harsh, stone judgement of your words--your touch.

He tugged the waistband down so that his hefty length could spring free, slapping against his exposed belly with a meaty ‘thwack’. He stared down at himself, taking in the thickness, the throbbing vein along the side that disappeared into the base of his cock. How dearly he wished that it was not by his own hand, but yours, that would relieve this horrible ache. Kuai hesitated for only a moment before he reached down to wrap a fist around his cock and give it an alleviating squeeze. It made his hips buck up to meet the pressure and he had to bite his tongue to stay quiet. His nose crinkled into a silent snarl as he dragged his rough palm down to pull the skin back as taut as it could go, before pulling it all back up to stimulate his already leaking cock head. His breath frosted the air, free hand scrabbling to pull his shirt up to bunch under his chin---for whatever reason the fabric was unbearably hot. With his torso naked, and his hand squeezing pre-cum out of his tip, Kuai Liang sighed your name as tension pooled in his belly.

He knew he’d never be able to withstand your teasing again, foreseeing many nights spent in the state he was currently in, but also finding he did not care. Heat mixed with the ice in his belly, egging him on as his fists set a slow, tight pace along the thick length of his cock. He imagined you, methodically tracing patterns along his veins, stroking the bunched skin beneath his glans--his hips lifted as he pictured your smile as you breathed molten heat against his tip. A promise, or maybe a threat. His eyes slammed shut as his pace increased, he did not have the patience at the moment to tease himself as you would and the fantasy he’d been playing in his mind flew out the window in favor of more heated, frantic visions.

You throating him diligently in some secluded hallway in the barracks. His other hand reached down to give his heavy balls a squeeze.

Your eyes, lidded in desperation as you begged for him not to stop. His head fell back, his hand working an aggressive pace across the entirety of his length, the wet noises of his pre-cum smearing across his skin filled the room.

You, saying his name, a whisper in his ear as he pinned you to a wall and took from your body the pleasure he violently craved…

That was what undid him. His fist pulled down his shaft until it was squeezing the base, his cock twitched, once, twice before hot strands of cum splashed over his belly and chest. His pectorals heaved as he caught his breath, smeared in the trickling viscosity of his own cum. His nipples hardened as the wetness cooled in the air. Kuai’s eyes rolled back, his thighs shaking as each pearlescent shot of cum that hit his skin sent volts of pleasure through every inch of him. He panted through his teeth, collapsing back on his cot once he was spent, cum dripped down his collar bone, dirtying the black shirt that he’d had tucked under his chin, sliding down his abdomen to pool into the dip of his belly button.

He was a mess, mentally and physically, the visions of what he wanted to do to you faded to the chilled realization that he could never let you know how he felt. Kuai managed to open an eye, staring at his hand, now soaked with the evidence of his desperation. Though he would never reveal to you this hunger, he knew he could not--would not--ever possess the discipline to stop your touches and whispers. It would be his burden to bear, his secret to keep---his deepest indulgence.

Your touch would undo him one day, but until then, he’d torture himself with this sweet sickness.

[nikialexx]

Happy to explain! Sirius and Snape have very different outward personalities but very similar arcs- both growing up in abusive households, latching onto one particular friend, both being emotionally stunted in adulthood due to trauma and making much of their decisions around that aforementioned friend. Both are petty, hold grudges, loyal, brave, vindictive. They both treat Harry based on how they feel about his parents. They both die never truly having fully lived their life.

(i actually wrote the entire response to this earlier and then lost it and i have never wanted to fling myself into the sun more than i did in that moment) but hi anon! so sorry this took a while. I'll continue under the cut cause my reply got kinda long😅

also general disclaimer that we're not going to be unnecessarily rude about either of these characters here, since i know a lot of people are very passionate about them one way or the other :)

Yeah, anon, I totally get where you're coming from here. I actually have very vague recollections of having had this conversation before but I don't remember where?? So this probably isn't the first time I'm comparing Sirius to Snape but I'm glad you gave me an opportunity to do it again.

I think those differences in their outward personalities is actually a nature vs nurture type situation. I've always said that Slytherin kids aren't immediately inherently evil (obviously), but rather victims of a larger system that actively works against them. You take a bunch of kids in their most important formative years and tell them they're destined to be evil and awful and essentially give every non-slytherin student a free pass to target them while even some of the teachers encourage these biases, and really, who wouldn't have this as their villain origin story?

Sirius and Snape both came from abusive households so Hogwarts was their only chance at getting away from that, and in that case, Snape was doomed from the very beginning. Sirius, comparatively, basically had the entirety of Gryffindor house to combat his more unsavory traits. He had friends who were good and kind and amazing and genuinely cared about his wellbeing, so he, in turn, grew to be a good and kind person. That's what he was surrounded by for like... 9 out of 12 months in the year. Snape went from one bad situation to another, continuously surrounded by people who were equally petty and vindictive and often cruel. What else was he supposed to become?

And I can hear you saying: but what about Lily?

Lily was only one person and I think it's a bit unfair to expect her to single-handedly combat the entire system that is House Prejudice and Rivalry at Hogwarts. Lily and Snape being placed in different houses, not to mention two houses with a personal history of being very anti each other, immediately drew a wall between them.

And then, what did the 'good' side ever really offer Snape? Sirius found happiness with the good guys, but Snape? Aside from literally only Lily, they all hated him and bullied him relentlessly. From his perspective, the supposed bad guys were the only ones offering him anything worthwhile or seeing any actual value in him.

So yeah, i see it. Two characters who are really similar in a lot of ways but had drastically different experiences that shaped who they would become.

(And it's also interesting how you laid out their non-personality similarities in the way their story arcs parallel each other almost exactly. I don't think I've ever really paid attention to that before.)

This was a fun little thought exercise lol thank you for this anon and im sorry again for taking so long to reply <3

[thejudgingtrash]

Annabeth is a good person,but not a nice or pleasant one,IMO.

YES.

That’s it. That’s the post. Pack it up everybody, we just cracked the case and cleared up one of the most compelling fights in the PJO fandom since forever. Good job everybody, clap it out and there’s the door! Don’t forget ordering the drinks at Starbucks, Mitch! They’re on me!

Okay, but on a more serious note: YES. YES EXACTLY.

And before some of you roll your eyes or grab your pitchforks – put your biases aside and hear me out for once. I like Annabeth. She’s my in my top three characters only second to Percy himself. I love Percabeth. It’s my favorite ship in the entire series and to be frank, the only ship that I care about PJO wise. Hell, I spend my time creating my own headcanons or writing my own fanfics with Percabeth being the star in them.

But that is not to say that I’m unable to see how certain things have developed over the years or where they stand now in regard to Annabeth. I’m not here to ignore things that have been said and/or done due to or in the name of Annabeth and I’m not here to vilify anyone that doesn’t like her. And I’m here to admit that I’m guilty of some of the things that may be addressed in this meta essay that you will read in just a second. However, I try my best to assure you, that I’m for once able to recognize my own bias.

Warning: a monster essay lies right upon you.

This should count as a paper of its own.

Back to the statement on top: I would go out even further to reframe your claim, anon:

Annabeth Chase is a good character but not a nice or pleasant person.

Annabeth is a wonderful character but she isn’t a nice one. Or at least not nice to everyone. She is (construction wise if I dare say) the best character out of the series. She has her positive traits (she’s caring, she’s emotional, she’s encouraged and volunteers, she fights for what she believes in, she forgives (even if doing so begrudgingly)) but she also has her negative traits (she’s stubborn, she’s brash, changing her mind takes forever, she is prejudiced, she baits others). That balances things out. She is branded as the intelligent kid but does irrational things (like I’ve just said a) she’s a kid and b) she’s not a robot). She should probably know better, but we all make mistakes and hopefully grow and learn from them. The clouds in the sky do blur and cover our visions sometimes.

Annabeth had clashes with other characters or was about to have fights due to her stubbornness or jealousy (Rachel, Reyna, etc.) and has of course her problems with the mortal world and her family but she also found new friends, some things cleared up throughout the narration and she was/is quite popular in Camp Half-Blood.

The thing is: she doesn’t have to be nice or pleasant (as a character). Or at least not all the time. Her character is humanized. That is what or who she is. Human. She does stand out as a character, not just because she’s the (future) love interest. She feels like someone you could meet in real life and either adore from the top to the bottom or declare as your biggest enemy. And that’s totally okay if you lean either way – liking or disliking her. Or even feeling indifferent about her. Also great!

To say that she has been the best character that Riordan has crafted is easy to say, because she has been sculpted after Riordan’s wife. He had a model he could rub some of real-life events or traits on. That’s not the problem. The problem truly doesn’t lie on Riordan’s side for the most part for once.

The problem is inherently on the fandom’s side. What the fandom does, how it acts and how it treats Annabeth as a character is the problem. The problems vary but it’s mostly the mischaracterization of Annabeth, starting fights and fan/ship wars, internalized misogyny (in some cases) and how some of the Annabeth stans lash out (ha, got firsthand experience in that field among many of my friends and mutuals!). There is a reason why many people are wary of people that have Annabeth or Percabeth related URLs.

The fact that we see Annabeth mostly through Percy’s lens and (until the Heroes of Olympus saga hits) we never really see her in chill everyday situations is essentially Riordan leaving the back door of the house open, ready for all of you asshats to rob his mansion in Boston. Because a frame on a character means that we don’t get to see the character in its entirety (unlike we do with Percy in PJO for the most part). That means a bunch of stuff is left open for interpretation which is the reason why Annabeth gets so many polarized headcanon and opinions tossed around. I think that is one of the true appeals of Annabeth. You can add on stuff and it necessarily doesn’t have to contradict itself.

We have people calling her abusive due to a (n admittedly stupid and unnecessary) judo flip and we have people that act like she’s never done anything wrong. People sorta use this excuse to form and shape Annabeth however they want and distort her characterization.

People in the fandom act like Annabeth is some weird prized possession. We perceive Annabeth mostly through the eyes of others (Percy, Apollo, etc.) and when we had some sort of insight in her ways (MOA, HOH) it felt… weird? Somewhat? Like Riordan left two bullet points of her characterization and told the ghostwriter: aight, fuck it up, gringo, see you on Tuesday and greet Fred the next time you see him for me. 

There have been many posts lately (by Tharini, Simi, Sawasawako, Jewishpercy and Annie I believe?) that HOO Percabeth felt weird. That they felt weirdly constructed, that there was no conflict, no growth. It felt stagnating, like we’re turning back. We had five books prior where we had Annabeth and Percy slowly shifting from disliking to liking and crushing each other. True development. And when we finally got the cake it felt… dissatisfying. Like the cheap box stuff and not the delicious exquisite taste that we were promised.

I said it previously in my Percabeth ship roast, but let me repeat myself: many Percabeth related things are straight up fanon. Some of it is very old fanon so that’s been unable to distinguish unless you’ve read the books recently and subtract nearly 99,9% of things you see on Tumblr (and occasionally the other shitty parts of the fandom like Reddit, IG, Twitter. Although they mostly steal and recycle tumblr stuff oh well. But back to the topic).

The way people treat Annabeth is so strange. She’s either an innocent fluffy smush baby that’s never harmed a fly and all that she wants for Christmas is being Percy’s lapdog or she’s the devil incarnate, broke into your house, killed your parents Batman style, kicked your puppy and didn’t flush the toilet on the way out. I think this is what mostly makes people hate her or the ship Percabeth. And both extremes are wrong and right at the same time? She is multifaceted so both stereotypes are true and untrue and sorta cancel each other out in the same way.

The true reason why people dislike Annabeth is because the stans are doing the most. (The haters as well, don’t get me wrong, but oh boy. Piss of a stan and you’ll know what I mean). That isn’t inherently new. Are you guys old enough to remember the ship wars that have happened cross platform? Perachel vs. Percabeth? Oh boy, oh boy. I saw some kids on tumblr a few months ago trying to infiltrate both tags and start shit (and also fail). The fact that Rachel still gets used as the bitchy (ex) girlfriend in fanfics? It’s 2020 guys. I know this apocalyptic year is far from perfect and over but I think we can let this trope die, right? Right? I thought we’ve established that Rachel is a pretty chill charcter by now… right?

If you posted your stuff on FFN back in 2010-2013 and it wasn’t the typical cutesy Percabeth story (Goode High, the gods read TLT, punk/prep Percabeth, college AU, etc.) people would’ve come for your fucking throat. Not because the story or the narration was shit. But because the pairing wasn’t Annabeth and Percy (in the sense that Annabeth had to be paired with Percy. I mean Percy gets shipped with everyone and their mother but for Annabeth it was strictly Percy. As annoying as this whole Connabeth thing is – the people behind it actually had a point. She never had a different love interest unless it’s a Percy centered story and he goes off dating Athena, Artemis and Zoe at the same time for some odd reason. Yeah, FFN Percy ships are something). Or it wasn’t the action filled canon compliant story or it wasn’t an AU that was popular.

People were really stubborn, snobbish and wanted their stuff in the four five boxes that were the most popular ones and that’s it. People have been bullied off the site in many fandoms, so it’s not a PJO-only thing but it’s still sad that it happened. (Off-note: most of these FFN tropes are still alive and well and thriving on AO3. Don’t be so snobbish and pretend that every piece you’d find there is a holy grail. There’s a lot of trash you have to waddle through. Same with Wattpad, Tumblr or anywhere else where fanfics get posted. Also had this discussion with Annabeth stans. Sigh).

And Tumblr back then? Forget it, wasn’t much better.

That view has sorta changed (at least for people that have been in the fandom for several years or have managed to find a way to navigate through it) but some of the negative sentiment from back in the day has survived. Be it by new fans coming in or from old fans that never let their stance die. The aggression feels differently and somewhat not. (I don’t know if the anon function had been abused that much back in the day. I was an observer not a participant in the fandom).

Crack a joke at Annabeth’s expense (Kal’s famous “Annabeth is a Republican” post or Dee Dee’s and many others “Annabeth has the education of a second grader, chill with the college plans, girlie” stance) and you have people insulting you, making callout posts, unfollowing and blocking you (based on only that? Okay, honey), making aggressive counter-posts, etc. in a minute. If you respond with “It’s a joke, it’s not real” you have a 50/50 chance of either getting blown off or embarrassing them so that they apologize for once.

This isn’t just about jokes. You can make a headcanon that’s not the cozy cute convenient mainstream saga and people would react the same way. Or art piece (no, not including the whole Tannabeth Blackchase shtick done by Viria and others) or fanfics.

People project so much onto the unfinished canvas that is Annabeth Chase that any form of negative sentiment as little as someone not liking her to straight up criticism, regardless of how tiny it may be, seems like an affront. Like an invitation to a fight. Like an insult to them, their character, everything they believe in. Let me state something:

You are NOT Annabeth Chase. Annabeth Chase IS NOT you. Annabeth Chase is NOT real. Her feeling cannot be hurt. Someone criticizing, disliking, joking about her or even insulting her will not bother her. Someone making a statement about her is not an insult to YOU.

Let me repeat that:

Annabeth Chase isn’t real. Annabeth Chase isn’t you.

So think a little before you act? I get it when you’re a kid and new to fandoms or haven’t been up with fan cultures in the past and are back in the scene. But if you’re in your late teens or even older as an adult and you’re unable to understand that you aren’t what you like – you aren’t the extension of a fictional character – I feel incredibly sorry for you. Because that’s just incredibly sad. Someone disliking something you like isn’t an attack of your character. It shows you that you are you and the other person is a human just like you. That they just have different taste. Disliking something you like isn’t a crime, you know? But me feeling sorry for the way some of y’all act won’t mean that that’s even remotely okay. Especially if you’re no longer in the intended audience for PJO age wise and should know better.

This isn’t a “white stans” only thing. I’ve seen and witnessed firsthand how people of color, mainly women of color, act the same or not even worse when it comes to her character. People have projected their problems and real-life occurring events into her character (I’m sure that she isn’t the only character nor that this is the only fandom where this is happening) and in some cases like I’ve said cannot separate their own personality from the fictional world. Fights with woc happened because of Annabeth fucking Chase. So many things have happened in the fandom the past few months, mostly due to people being forced staying at home because of the quarantine but I’d say it’s 10% on quarantine and 90% on people for acting up like this.

So here’s a little story: There was the act of Riordan blowing the fandom up because of his own stupidity and being unable to apologize for his mischaracterization and lack of research (the whole Piper fiasco) back in June (?) and admits the upset fandom, people on Twitter, Tumblr and Discord legit thought that none of that mattered and that the outcry was destroying Annabeth Chase’s birthday. That’s right. People thought that Annabeth Chase’s non-existing birthday because she’s a fictional character had a higher priority than the rupture and prevalent racism in the fandom. Okay. This isn’t a great look, Annabeth stans. And this of course pissed a lot of people off. I made a post about it and someone not only berated three other people on said post but no, we had a mighty argument which had disrupted many friendships in our circle which haven’t recovered until this very day. We both had our parts in it and no one is innocent. But the cause of this still remains Annabeth Chase or how people prioritize her non-existing well-being. Anyway. I’m getting agitated just thinking about it.

Let’s go back to the characterization thing with Annabeth. Let me remind you:

Annabeth Chase is an asshole. There I’ve said it in a post ages ago (too lazy to look it up, sorry) and I’ll say it again. And that’s not me insulting her. That’s me actually loving that about her. Annabeth is one of the very few unapologetic female characters that really showed all young readers across the world that you can be a girl, a badass, smart, strong, standing up for yourself and what you believe in. You don’t have to be nice. You don’t have to hide your feelings. You don’t need a man in all cases but it’s also okay to accept help and defeat.

A large reason why I think she’s an incredibly important character in children’s literature/YA because many other novels (mostly (sadly)) have the “Oh, I’m a white skinny dark-haired girl that likes unconventional things like READING. I’m not like the other girls, that take care of themselves and pamper themselves by enjoying shopping and wearing make-up. No, I’d rather be one of the boys but a sweet cute little boy and not the jock fuck that drank vodka shots out of a filthy shoe once. Despite me calling myself hideous every man in a 10-kilometer radius falls in love with me and tells me I’m oh so sexy and by the way I’m only 16 years old” shit going on for no goddamn reason.

Yes, I do blame Twilight for this mostly in recent years, but this trope isn’t by any means knew. Pretty sure that you could even use classics as Pride and Prejudice and dissect them in the same manner (Bold statement: Lizzy Bennet is the OG Bella Swan. There. Go fight somewhere in the corner, people). The new wave of YA focuses on girls belittling themselves and only starting to believe in themselves because someone else (mostly the male love interest) tells them they’re worth it. And these books hit the mainstream because they’re incredibly bland and picture perfect white.

With Annabeth it’s different. She shows up for the job and is done with it. (Brie Larson would probably be the perfect in real life version of her. You either like or dislike her. Or you really don’t care). That is what is so refreshing about her. Her unapologetic nature. Can it be off-putting? Yes. Is it annoying? Yes! Hell, every time I read The Lightning Thief, I want to rip her goddamn head off. And it’s just so well written. Her shift from mistrusting Percy but secretly still believing in him to her opening up. Wow, Riordan did something right there.

Annabeth Chase isn’t a young character. She has existed along with PJO for 15 years. She’s on her way to the second decade. I’m pretty sure that with the success of Percy Jackson (and Harry Potter) many lives have been warped and shaped.

But when I say the problem lies mostly in the fandom, it doesn’t mean that Riordan’s completely innocent. The only problem that I have with Annabeth lies not truly with her but the fact that Riordan is only able to produce three variations of female characters:

The sweetheart (Hazel, Silena, Calypso, Hestia)

The strong feminist (Annabeth, Piper, Thalia, Reyna, Artemis)

The bitch (Drew, nearly every female goddess in the goddamn Riordanverse next to every female monster)

And these female characters only know three endings:

End up married with a mortgage, three kids, two dogs and a cat somewhere in Connecticut by the age of twelve

Get dumped into the hunt

Chill on Mount Olympus and only come down to be a nuisance and/or give a cryptic message before going back and doing a godly rave party or something

We know Annabeth as the badass strong female first (or the bitchy character we’re supposed to actually like. Choose your approach), the blueprint so to speak, so some of the other characters feel almost pale in comparison and almost not needed? Doesn’t mean that other characters can’t behave similarly, but it feels kind of redundant especially if their character arcs end in a rather anticlimactic way (Thalia, Reyna). The new additions are the much needed woc as the main story with PJO was inherently white (anyway stan black!Percy and Grover, folks). So it’s not to bash on the new characters, it’s more Riordan’s fault more than anything.

Since Riordan only knows three female character arcs it feels like he tried to copy the formula several ways with different nuances. Some more or less successful. This is where fandom actually comes in handy and helps create more distinguished and fleshed out characters in form of headcanons or fanfiction.

But even in these cases people still make it about Annabeth when it’s time for characters of colors to shine. Remember that whole spiel and discussion that broke out when people (Kal, diver-up, Caitlyn, Bee, reynaisalesbian, etc.) joked about or criticized that Annabeth thinks that she’s having it harder because she’s a blonde? In front of Hazel and Piper? If she would’ve been a real person that’s an invitation for getting decked. And then all hell broke loose because Annabeth stans couldn’t accept the fact that in the real world and/or in fictional worlds the woc/coc have it harder? That the white woman wasn’t the victim that needed the coddling? Yeah, that was mad pathetic.

I hope you people get my point?

Well fuck. I wrote so many things and have the feeling I’ve said nothing. Anyway, I hope I made sense. This is way too long.

TLDR: Chill about Annabeth please. She’s an important character but that doesn’t mean that everyone has to like her, regardless of being a character in the books or a reader/fan of PJO in real life. She isn’t nice or a sweetheart all the time. She also isn’t the monstrous asshole that some try to make out of her.

Peace out.

[brockadoodles]

Gumbo, Football Sundays, and Christmas - q. hughes

AN: this was totally named something else before, but honestly I like this name better. So here’s holiday Quinn floof to celebrate the return of my main squeeze, the quinn to my brock, the oh so wonderful, @pettypetey​ If any of you are mean to her, its on sight, ily kyn <3

Word Count: 3759

Warnings: None :)

You carefully walked over to the couch where Quinn was sitting on his phone with two hot bowls in your hand. You cleared your throat to grab his attention, handing him the steaming bowl of your favorite homemade potato soup, something that his trainer would absolutely kill him for eating, yet he did anyway because you made it and he openly admitted that it was one of his favorite things. Quinn couldn’t cook to save his life, something that you had attempted to remedy when you became friends and found out that he got most of his meals from the rink or the Tanev family. But after one night where he spilled an entire pot of gumbo on your kitchen floor, you settled for doing the cooking or letting him pay for takeout whenever he came over, sparing your poor floor from another huge mess and your own sanity over wasting that much time on food only to not be able to eat it. 

You sat down on the couch next to him, your thigh pressed up against him due to the nature of how small your old Ikea couch was. You set your bowl down on the coffee table and picked up the remote, scrolling through the various options on TV until you spotted a marathon of cheesy Christmas movies listed on the Hallmark channel. 

“I’m absolutely not watching a Christmas movie with you, it’s not even thanksgiving yet,” Quinn frowned as you moved through the various options on the tv, each movie title becoming a worse holiday-related pun as you scrolled further into the depths of the Hallmark channel. 

You glared at him and for a moment you contemplated why you were even such good friends with someone who clearly had no sense of what Christmas joy really meant. Obviously, you knew that he didn’t celebrate Christmas, but you also knew that he knew how much comfort these movies brought you. You used to spend hours watching them in November and December with your dad as a child, and when you moved to Vancouver, that quickly became one of the things you could do that reminded you of home.   

“Quinn I will absolutely kick you out of my apartment,” you warned, queuing up one of the movies whose premise was likely about some small-town person who needed to save their business and the way that happens was through a Christmas miracle. It didn’t matter how similar or terribly low quality these movies were, you loved them and happily watched them consistently as early as September each year. Quinn should have considered himself lucky that you waited until November before putting one on with him there. 

“You would never,” he smirked at you, wrapping an arm swiftly around your waist and pulling you into his chest. Quinn was always affectionate with you, something that you had found yourself readily falling into. You would never admit it to him but Quinn was your favorite person, and as the months had progressed his affections have sparked daydreams in your head of what it would be like if he took it one step farther with you. 

The two of you sat in silence next to each other as the opening credits of the movie began to play as you enjoyed the warm soup. It was what you considered the perfect November evening, your favorite movies, your favorite meal, and your favorite person all in one sitting as the rain fell outside of your apartment. 

You pulled the dark green throw blanket over both of your bodies as the movie continued to play, Quinn rolling his eyes and audibly groaning at the cheesy dialogue that was happening on screen. 

“Shhhh, I’m trying to distract myself from you,” you whacked him in the chest, feeling his body vibrate softly as he laughed at you. He grabbed your hand, focusing on playing with your fingers lightly, sometimes threading his own through them. His actions were causing a flutter in your stomach and a blush to rise on your cheeks each time he held your hand in his, and the movie was offering no distraction from him. 

Quinn was a constant for you, a presence that was always there whether that meant in your mind and heart as you thought of him, or physically there on your couch watching Christmas movies with you just because you asked. He had been your friend since he started playing in Vancouver, the two of you frequently running into each other at a hole in the wall Chinese place near your apartment. Somehow the chance run-ins had become Sunday nights in his apartment where he always had your favorite fried rice and football queued up for you provided he didn’t have a game of his own. 

Quinn fussed around with your fingers and hand for the entirety of the movie, if someone were to ask him to summarize anything that had occurred over the last two hours that you were nestled into his chest, he simply couldn’t do it. He couldn’t focus on the movie, or the white noise of cars passing by outside and the rain steadily pouring down, all he could focus on was your hands and your breathing as you watched the movie. Quinn hadn’t admitted it to anyone, probably not even fully to himself yet just how attached he was to you. You were his favorite person, by far. His quiet demeanor never seemed to bother you, and you had the ability to calm him down yet challenge him when he needed it. You never made him feel like he was Quinn Hughes of the Vancouver Canucks, instead, he felt like just Quinn with you, a feeling he only ever experienced when he was back home with his family in Michigan. It might not have been obvious to him, but everyone else knew he was as in love with you as someone could be with a person they weren’t actually with. Even his mom asked about you frequently, smiling as he would tell her whatever mundane thing about you that he had thought of that day. You were the only person he willingly let this close to him, and people noticed. 

“What time is it?” You groaned, moving from his lap. Your back was slightly stiff, and you were kind of warm as you peeled the blanket from both of your bodies. The tv was turned off, and the sky outside was pitch black. Quinn slowly opened his eyes, a soft and sleepy smile on his face as he pulled you back into his chest. 

“Sleep time.” He hummed. You laughed softly and pressed your hands into his chest. 

“Come on, let’s go to bed, q.” 

A few weeks later, after American Thanksgiving had come and gone, you found yourself surrounded at a small table with some of the other young Canucks at a holiday charity event. Quinn had practically begged you to go with him to the fundraiser, complaining that he had no idea how to decorate gingerbread houses, and if you weren’t there to help him then Brock and Petey would never let him hear the end of how ugly he ultimately would turn out. You agreed pretty quickly, rolling your eyes at his concern and reassuring him that he shouldn’t feel bad even if his was the ugliest gingerbread house of the entire group.

Quinn was entirely out of his element as the kids tossed around various candies and made a mess at the table you were all sitting at together. His eyes were wide and he was quietly focussed on his own tragic house. You watched him try to concentrate on building a roof, struggling to hold in your laughter, and Brock and Elias relentlessly teased his efforts. 

“Look Quinn, mistletoe!” Quinn shot a look to Brock instantly at his words, his eyes shooting daggers into his friend as he held mistletoe up above the two of you. You sat there in shock, silently hoping that Brock would simply let this whole thing go without a fight so that you wouldn’t end up embarrassed and hurt. Unfortunately for you and him, the kids instantly jumped at the chance of forcing you to kiss, almost all of them egging it on and making kissy faces at the two of you.  

Quinn swore he was going to force Brock and Petey to block 50 of his shots next practice for how they were acting. It was bad enough that the kids were hounding him to kiss you, but he didn’t need it from his friends who knew about his long harbored crush on you. You took it all in stride though, a slight blush to your cheeks that Quinn found himself melting even moreover. It also didn’t help that you were there, wearing one so his jerseys, his name on your back. He wanted to kiss you, but the last thing he wanted was for you to think that it was all the accumulation of these pesky kids bullying him into it. 

Quinn tried to brush off the attempts at pushing the two of you together. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to kiss you, he did, but he wanted it to be under his own terms and a moment that was more special than at a fundraiser event with a bunch of children and Brock watching. He shook his head at Brock, mouthing for him to cut it out. Brock was having none of it though, knowing that a kiss was a long time coming between you and if Quinn wasn’t going to make the move quickly, then he was going to take advantage of the situation and attempt to get things moving between you. About every guy on the Canucks roster had about had enough of Quinn talking about how much he liked you without doing anything about it, and Brock saw the opportunity and took it. 

“Pucker up kids, there’s mistletoe now. You can’t break the Christmas law that is mistletoe,” Brock smirked, hanging the mistletoe above both of your heads. He knew exactly what he was doing, and Quinn wanted to smack the not so subtle smirk off of his face.

You grabbed his arm, turning to face him with a soft smile on your face. You almost felt bad for him, sensing how uncomfortable he was at the situation, but something about the way he was carrying himself had you hoping that maybe he did want to kiss you and that had you fluttering with excitement as you leaned in. Quinn just looked at you nervously, unable to react as you quickly grabbed his face, and softly pressed his lips to yours. The kids cheering in the background, and Elias and Brock smirking at the success of their efforts. It was almost too much, but he found himself grabbing your cheek and kissing you back, his heart beating so fast and loud he was sure that you would hear it. 

You smiled into the kiss, pulling back with a bright crimson shade present on your cheeks, a wide-eyed Quinn in front of you. For a moment you thought maybe you had messed everything up, maybe Quinn had absolutely no feelings for you and that’s why he was looking at you like he looked at most other people who he didn’t know. But it didn’t take Quinn long to smile and grab your hand, lacing your fingers together and going back to decorating the tragic gingerbread houses sitting in front of you, a soft smile present on his face the rest of the afternoon. 

Quinn has debatably taken your ugly Christmas sweater idea a bit too seriously, so seriously in fact that you were genuinely impressed when he came to pick you up in a dark green holiday sweater, complete with a reindeer and light up antlers on his chest as you opened your front door. You laughed a bit, shaking your head as you took him in. You found it sweet that he made the extra effort, knowing that you were in a bad mood and probably just wanted to cheer you up. You wordlessly grabbed your bag and locked your door, following Quinn quietly out to his car. 

The drive to Bo and Holly’s was quiet, Quinn focused on the dark roads as he drove. You watched out the window, looking at the shiny pavement that was slick with the steady rain that Vancouver knew for the majority of the winter. Things with Quinn had felt weird since you kissed him under the mistletoe, you couldn’t explain the shift because as much as you hoped the kiss would show him your feelings for him, he never brought it up. You supposed that you were partially to blame, you could have put your heart out there with him, but you also felt like you had already done that by kissing him those weeks ago, and him not saying anything only sank your heart further. So instead of dwelling on it, you tried to enjoy your time with him as usual, pushing your feelings to the side in hopes that in time they would evaporate and you would be okay just being his friend again. 

You fumbled around in your bag as he parked outside of the Horvat’s house, flicking his light-up sweater on with a soft smile as he moved to unbuckle his seatbelt and get out of the car. 

“Quinn wait.” You started. You reached out and grabbed his thigh softly, pulling your hand back quickly when you realized what you were doing, your nerves bubbling up into your chest. You pulled a small wrapped box from your bag, fiddling with it in your hands as he watched you carefully. His eyebrows furrowed slightly as you handed him the present. 

“Happy first day of Hanukkah.” You smiled. Quinn grinned at you in response, his heart softening at you remembering. Not that he thought you forgot, but you were after all parked outside of his captain’s house, dressed in ugly Christmas sweaters, about to attend the annual Canucks Christmas party. So while he didn’t think you forgot, it meant a lot to him that you vocally remembered and thought of him enough to get a gift. 

Quinn carefully unwrapped the present and shook his head as he pulled the item from its box. He ran his hand over the keychain, the New Orleans Saints logo clear as day on the charm. 

“I should have known not to expect something serious.” He joked as he put the keychain on his keys, a small act that caused butterflies to rush into your stomach. 

“Yeah well, your taste in football sucks so I had to remind you who you should be cheering for.” You replied, smirking slightly at him. Quinn leaned over the center console, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek so quickly that you were sure you didn’t even have time to take one breath as he pulled away. Your eyes were wide and your mouth slightly parted at his outward display of affection, no sign of him thinking anything of it. You gulped a bit as you tried to hide the blush on your cheeks. Quinn didn’t say anything, instead, he smiled and climbed out of the car, waiting patiently for you to grab the punch you made and join him on the short walk to the front of the house, the moment between you quickly passing as you headed into the party. 

You walked into the home, smiling in awe at how beautiful the decorations were. Your eyes wandered around the room, stopping on the huge tree in the living room, covered with red and green ornaments and lights. The whole house smelled like fir, and it was warm and inviting as you starting noticing the various players and their families who were scattered throughout the room. 

Holly led you into their kitchen to help you get the punch set up for the rest of the guests. She took the large pitcher from your hands and set it on the counter. Quinn had been pulled another direction from you and was now talking with Elias in the living room as you were in the kitchen with Holly. You were a little nervous being alone with her, having only met her a handful of times at various events that you had gone to with Quinn. But she offered you a friendly smile and the first glass, which helped your nerves settle. 

“Ah, Mrs. Huggy! You’re here!” You heard from behind you, an audible gasp at the nickname escaping from your lips as Jake slid up behind you and hugged you. You quickly turned out of his grasp and shot him a glare, glancing past him in hopes that Quinn hadn’t heard his friend call you that. 

“Jake! Shut up!” You whispered harshly, whacking him lightly in the chest. He just laughed at you in return, leaving you alone in the kitchen with a now smirking Holly and a tint on your cheeks that you were hoping would go away before Quinn came back to find you. You took a long sip of your drink, resigning yourself to the fact that this night was probably going to be long, and you definitely needed the liquid courage to get yourself through it. 

About an hour and two drinking games later, you found yourself tipsy and less nervous around Quinn and your friends, them seemingly forgetting about your unrequited crush in favor of arguing who got to have him as their beer pong partner, something that Quinn was shockingly undefeated at. 

You walked into the kitchen, bypassing Brock who was leaning against the counter, typing away on his phone. He didn’t notice you as you walked by him and over toward the drinks that were on the counter, refilling yours and taking a moment to yourself. You didn’t notice that Quinn had followed you into the room, jumping slightly when you heard his voice coming from behind you. 

“Hey so remember when you kissed me?” You nearly choked on your drink, the contribution you had decided to bless the party with, a punch that only came out during the holidays, containing what you could only describe to people as 90% alcohol and a 10% chance of blacking out. You were only on your third cup, not near inebriated enough for this potential conversation with Quinn. The truth was that you of course remembered kissing him, the feeling of it had been cycling around your brain since the charity event last week, but he never brought it up with you, so you were forced to pack your feelings back up into a tightly taped box, hoping that one day you could pull said box out and give it to him properly. 

Quinn however had consumed almost four cups of your famous Christmas party punch, sending him well on his way passed tipsy and onto the train towards the loud drunk you rarely saw from him. He had wanted to kiss you again, a secret tucked deep in his chest that was bubbling up to the surface with the more drinks he had. He took in your appearance, your hair was down and you had a slight blush to your cheeks from your makeup, the Christmas sweater hanging from your body was stupid and endearing and all he could think about was tossing it onto the floor. 

“Mhm, yes I do remember something of that sorts happening, Quinn,” you said, smirking softly at him, a complete act to hide your growing nerves. Quinn smiled the widest drunk smile you’d ever seen, and you couldn’t help but appreciate how cute he was. 

“Can I kiss you this time?” He asked, loud enough that Brock turned his head from where he was standing, a few feet away in the kitchen as he was on his phone. He raised his eyebrows at you, smirking a bit before turning and walking out of the kitchen, leaving you and Quinn to yourselves as your heart beat faster in your chest. You gulped back the rest of your drink, setting it down and stepping toward him. Quinn’s hands instinctively went to your waist, pulling you in closer with a lazy smile on his face and a soft expression in his eyes. 

“You gonna kiss me or what, Quinn?” Your heart was pounding so loudly, you were thankful for the chatter coming from the kitchen, someone yelling about winning what must have been that round of beer pong. Quinn smiled at you and it only made things worse, the moment feeling like it was hanging in time as you waited not so patiently for him to press his lips to yours again. You almost thought you were imagining the entire thing as he grabbed your cheek, leaning in and closing his eyes. As soon as his lips touched yours you melted into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck and tugging softly on his dark hair. You smiled into the kiss, not caring who was watching because all that mattered was Quinn. 

Quinn pulled back and continued to hold you, a blush evident on both of your cheeks and smiles that were big and wide. You buried your head into his chest and he kissed your head, no words needing to be spoken between you, it was like you both knew exactly what the other person wanted to say. You knew how Quinn felt, and he knew how you felt, your hearts practically beating in each other’s ears as you shared a not so private moment in the kitchen, a cheesy Hallmark movie type ending that you loved. 

“In case it isn’t obvious, I really like you.” Quinn murmured, running his hand softly along your hip as he looked down for your reaction. You leaned up and kissed him once more, smiling into it and squeezing him gently. 

“I like you too, even if you hate Christmas movies and have terrible taste in football teams.” You said, earning a laugh out of your favorite person. The two of you spent the rest of the party stealing drunk kisses together, your minds fuzzy with the not new feelings but new ability to express them openly with each other, regardless of anyone else’s opinions or comments. Quinn was absolutely your favorite person, and you couldn’t believe you were finally getting to be with him in the way that you had wanted to for months, even with his stupid reindeer sweater on. 

[yakocchi]

Becoming a Family With Him, Part 3 // Shuichi, Hikaru, Rhion, Luke, Eisuke

so this came out, as further celebration for the anni. VERY GOOD, much more appreciated than the prior story set lol that one was kind of boring but i get it

they made the kids for all the... kid-less ones, and the eisuke one that used to be VIP-exclusive is now here for everyone to buy (rip those ppl who gacha for it)

my rambling behind the cut (spoilers!!)

shuichi // as ud expect, shuichi has a literal hime ass looking girl (kikyo) for a daughter. she’s only 6, but is pretty calm and ladylike. She even calls her parents with –sama so... ok luckily shuichi does not strip down all the way in the presence of her daughter and only takes off his suit coat. thanks dad

anyway since shuichi has a break coming up, he wants to have a family trip how nice. but then the dang girl wants to go over to see eisuke WHAT when soryu exists and lives a block away? unrelatable, im closing the app anyway eisuke is her first love, which wtf he’s like 20 yrs older than u. even worse, mc says she’s been in love since she was like 3.

shuichi is reconsidering the benefits of democracy in his mind but eventually relents. but then they’re still following the fucc-days rule they set years ago. well, as he says in the story, RULES ARE RULES

blah blah i don’t want to go over everything bc then it’ll be boring reading the story when it comes out in engl right? also im tired bc it’s 1 am and i just want to play toontown in bed but nothing really bad happens. they are a v cute family bc shuichi is a pleasant and mature dad. kikyo and mc even do a little surprise for him at the end and it is very sweet. i feel like out of all the families, this is the most ideal

mad hatter // so they have twin sons named Rui and Kai. Rui is the childlike one that resembles Rhion in personality, Kai is the more mature one that resembles Al. man i forget that boy’s name but u get me i know they only can use stock bgs but it’s killing me that these dang kids get to sleep in what looks like separate king sized beds.

even though rhion is now a father of two, he still acts like... 10. i mean he still horni but it makes me feel weird

later it’s revealed that Ota teaches them both as an art tutor bc they both showed an interest in art. this is cute bc ota is bad with kids in this universe LOL

the ending on this one was weird cuz the kids didn’t show up in the entirety of the last ep bc it was about WORK. so uh... interesting

hikaru // so their son is named akari. haha get it because it means light. like how hikaru also means light. can mc name her kids unrelated to their father or is that against the Geneva convention

this kid actually acts like an actual little boy. like what hikaru would’ve probably turned into if not for the whole sad backstory. the story starts with akari just bringing a dog randomly home one day. he actually saved the dog (it is very cute bc he did not want the dog to cry), and then after a talk they decide to keep the dog as long as akari knows the responsibility of taking care of an animal.

so next day, the bidders come over to their house and everyone’s like woaw a dog. lol they come into their house as guests and eisuke and mamo still demand for beverages, they all suck

akari names the dog... “Light” (Raito) and i want out of this nightmare. Naturally bc Light is an abandoned dog it’s still kind of bad with interacting with things. But then Light suddenly be giving the ( ╹ਊ╹) to soryu bc remember, animals love him. everyone clowns on soryu for being an unintentional dog whisperer and then akari is like “soryu san pls make me ur apprentice” and he gives some advice like approaching it slowly, and talking to it from the front instead of back.

blah blah there’s a situation where Light goes YEET after a Doberman gets all angry and then hides bc then another dog is scaring it. hikaru swoops in to the save the day as the Real Dog Whisperer. ok it’s cute when hikaru actually gets to look cool  for once LOL

luke // luke is cute on the bc “pre-story” scene he’s actually pretty open to the idea of having kids; he actually goes “well imo we should think abt it pretty soon, but i wanted to hear ur opinion on it” but then he gets horni. and then he’s like “our kids are going to have your collarbones. awesomeee im looking forward to that” ....ok

ok cut to the actual story and they’re in Japan. Luke’s kid looks... strange versus the others. why are his eyes so big? omg voltage his eyes arent going to be saucers just cuz he half white also the kid’s name is Yuri (Or Urey). They couldn’t think of any other Brit-styled names? Like Harry? Henry? William? Wilfred? hey stan be my princess btw he’s pretty cute, though he gives serious “timid kid that gets bullied in the children’s movie” vibes. He calls Luke “daddy” and mc “mammy/mommy”.

so luke talks about his relationship w/ soryu and eisuke and then yuri is like “i want friends like that” wow cute but also find less ethically-complicated friends

so luke lets yuri meet a young patient of his (haru) so they can be friends. they get along so it’s good. haru gets in critical condition later so luke zooms outta there to do the operation.

LOL but at the end yuri is like, “i want to make more friends. (...) can i go to the bidder’s room from now on?” this boy works fast

And then he’s like “Eisuke-san... please be my friend.” HIS POWER. even eisuke was like :O so then eisuke orders a whole bunch of food and books up to the penthouse. But then yuri’s like “...i like eisuke’s eyes” and everyone’s like oh man that’s gonna be his fetish

Baba: why have u started to have an interest in eyes Yuri: I read it from one of daddy’s medical books Hikaru: wtf u can read that at 4??? (...) Soryu: wat Yuri: um... i want soryu to be my friend too Yuri: bc soryu’s eyes are also powerfully cool...

eisuke // ok this gets an extended ramble bc the more annoying the story the longer i must complain

so you might be thinking, “oh so this is gonna be a flashback in some in media res styled story with your 2 kids, u know in the style of the others” and well, no you just go straight to white screen into the flashback, back when eito was smaller and thus a little more cute. well it’s not really false advertising bc they did say “reminisce” in the description. but i wanted to see eito be a good big brother for a moment! or... less good? man i wanted to see kaito go waaaah like a baby idk i wanted to see him exist

so back to the story they cut to small eito. even as a smaller punk he does fight with his dad a little, just w/ a more narrow vocabulary to work with. tho at this point he’s still pretty sweet so clearly eisuke clowning him day and night was a negative effect on his development. (doesn’t treat his child like a child) (child grows up to a punk that doesn’t respect him) (surprised pikachu) being the son of a billionaire means that this child has to go study at a very young age and listen to MOZART. no child of eisuke ichinomiya will be listening to degenerate bops like lee taemin’s criminal next day they all go to the very fancy school that eito will be attending. eisuke does a speech, but then eito is all like “why is papa over there all the time” in reference to how all the other parents in attendance are having fun with their children, but eisuke is busy talking to other people for business and connections etc. etc. mc kind of has a hard time trying to explain it to eito bc... it’s honestly poor parenting... eiji shows up after arriving late, and he’s like “gramps is gonna be with ya today! instead of papa” which is cute but then she’s like psst thanks for coming and im like oh... so grandpa just didn’t randomly come to the open house for fun he’s just gonna be surrogate dad while real dad is busy... aw... and then at the end eito’s like FUC THIS KINDERGARTEN. eisuke is like “(smh) don’t yell in public. (despite everything) you are still the eldest son of the Ichinomiya family”

and so afterwards it’s clear that eito does not want anything to do with this school. he just sits in the classroom until mc is there to pick him up instead of playing in the courtyard or w/e, wanting nothing to do with the other kids.

so later there’s a hiking trip for the students and both of their parents, and mc asks eisuke if he’ll be available for it. eisuke is like, “i have a business trip that day, so I’ll have to adjust my schedule” and he’s been very busy in the opening of a new business or w/e. mc tells him to not do so much for something like that and that it’s ok if she goes alone with eito on the trip.

it’s the day of the trip, and mc goes alone with eito. she notes that a lot of dads did indeed come along for the trip. she apologizes to eito and says that she did talk to eisuke about the trip before, but he’s simply busy for this day. and im like... but girl, you were the one who told him not to change his schedule for the trip. yes a trip may seem less important than business ventures, but don’t make it sound like you weren’t the one who stopped him. lol. idk why im pressed abt this single line of dialogue bc later she does realize she fucced up there well eito is just like w/e about it and has pretty much accepted that sort of thing

anyway eito goes missing later and one of the kids said that he told eito that his dad (eisuke) didn’t come bc his dad thinks that his work is more important than his son. so eito got mad and ran off somewhere

and then mc finally gets the lightbulb moment that eito... wants to see his dad!! he ran off to go try to see him somehow??? !! wow so sweet

it’s raining like a mf but then in her search for eito eisuke randomly pops out of nowhere. He’s like “ho i did not remember saying that i wasn’t coming” and she’s like “im sorrryyy” and both me and him are like “just find the dang kid”

ok yea they find eito, he starts being a good student, and u start to see where he starts being antagonistic towards his dad LOL etc. etc. lol this story annoyed me so i don’t feel like doing the rest of the play by play orz

anyway thanks for reading my garbage LOL

[geraltcirilla]

What did Jenny Nicholson do to John Boyega? Genuinely curious, it's the first time I'm hearing of this and would love to know so I can stop paying her any attention if she doesn't deserve it

Disclaimer before I get started: I’m a white woman and this topic is about racism perpetuated by white woman so please keep that in mind as you read. I’m gonna do my absolute best to echo what I’ve seen black people say about this situation and this type of covert racism but I am not black so they get final say on this topic.

This is not an easy thing to explain in it’s entirety because it happened about a year ago on Twitter and Jenny deleted a lot of Tweets after the fact because she’s a spineless coward. I’m going to do my best to remember and I’ll include any receipts I can find, which unfortunately will be limited to what people saved at the time. :(

This all started because John made a joke about Rey and Finn having sex on Twitter.

It was a harmless silly joke. And it was not about Reylo. But Reylos took it upon themselves to be personally offended and absolutely LOST it at him, calling him a misogynist, saying his statement was sexist, and sending him a slew of harassment, hate, and racism.

Now there’s a lot of hypocrisy going into this controversy because Reylos are notorious for sexualizing Rey often to disgusting degrees, like demanding the actual Star Wars movies be more explicit, saying light sabers are phallic symbols, accusing JJ Abrams of wanting Rey to stay his pure virginal Mary Sue, etc. (I’m not gonna bother providing receipts on this, just search the Reylo hashtags on Tumblr or Twitter, or check out the Twitter @ShitReylosSay). Let me make it clear that sexually explicit =/= sexist, and John’s statement was not sexist. Period. At the end of the day I think they were just looking for an excuse to attack John. Because he cannot breath without people attacking him.

Well John noticed right away it was Reylos going at him so he took the opportunity to drag Reylo.

Was he being a petty? Of course he was, but he had EVERY RIGHT TO after the endless racism he has endured from the Star Wars fandom. People are always applauding white actors like Robert Pattinson and Jacob Elordi for shitting on shows, movies, or fandoms related to their work. But when John does it suddenly he’s “unprofessional”?

John eventually started replying to some of the Tweets being sent at him.

They were all along this vein where a person was being outright hostile and vile, so yeah, he had every right to respond.

This all culminated in him picking out a bunch of hateful Tweets being thrown his way and posting this video to Instagram.

Well this triggered Reylos even more so they shifted tactics and took the whole white feminist approach that he was “attacking SHIPPING CULTURE which is majorly made up of WOMEN so he’s a MISOGYNIST”. They wrote these long essays and Twitter threads about how John was spreading harmful messages etc. But he wasn’t attacking shipping culture, he was attacking Reylo. Because it’s vile and abusive and he was no longer contractually obligated to endure it. And honestly? His tweet was mild at best. 

But please remember all this started because John made a joke that Rey and Finn ended up together. HE DID NOT START ON REYLO. THEY STARTED ON HIM. Everything that happened was reactionary on his part. We as a society refuse to let black people defend themselves and it’s fucked up and racist.

One of these pseudo-intellectuals spreading the whole “John is a misogynist and Reylo shippers are his VICTIMS uwu” narrative was none other than Jenny Nicholson.

Just so you know the “inbreds” comment was photoshopped by a white fan, not that Jenny would tell her incredibly large audience this to prevent spreading further slander about John.

A lot of people started replying to Jenny telling her why SHE as a WHITE WOMAN framing herself and other Reylos as the VICTIM of John, a BLACK MAN who did absolutely nothing to her or anyone besides not like Reylo and defend himself against online harassment and bullying, was racist.

And you know what she did? She blocked them all.

And to this day she continues to block anyone who brings it up because she’s a spineless coward who can’t be bothered to own up to her racist slip-ups.

Some of these people were being mean, but most were not. Some were nicer than she deserved. She still blocked them. She didn’t want to see any form of criticism (constructive or not) sent her way.

She even had the nerve to go at John AGAIN during the BLM protests after George Floyd was murdered because she has no fucking clue how to read a room. This was her bringing back her distasteful dislike of John DURING THE BLM MOVEMENT when John made that emotional speech in London’s Hyde Park. This was not the time or place but she can’t seem to help herself.

As a white woman with respect, authority, and a large audience, who viewed as an “intellect” on online spaces so her opinion is taken more seriously thank others, the things she says matter and impact a large group of people. She used her whiteness and her woman-ness to frame herself and other white women as John’s victim when she was not, because she knew it would be easy and she would get away with it. And she did and she has. As one person in the screencaps above tweeted so gracefully, she “participated in the fandom dogpile of John” when he had done nothing wrong except exist and have opinions.

Jenny is your classic example of a performative ally and she accidently showed her true colors. I no longer trust any white female video essayist who ship Reylo and are friends with Jenny because you know they all silently agree with what she was stupid enough to say out loud. This means Lindsay Ellis as well.

I believe the reason she refuses to acknowledge this situation is because she would be forced to either apologize or confess she still stands by what she said. And based off her vague-tweeting the situation as recent as June of 2020 I feel safe saying she still believes she was in the right.

The receipts I offered are only a small part of a much larger jumbled mess. I didn’t include everything there was but even this small amount is pretty damning.

[sunnys-rewatch-blog]

S2, E14

"Through Many Dangers, Toils, and Snares"

TW: Drug and addiction talk, references at dubious s* xual behavior

One thing they do successfully in the earlier seasons that gets worse over time is establishing characters with layers and dichotomies. Spencer is a brainiac wizz-kid who can do no wrong in the world of academics, including sports. They didn't even go with giving her the stereotypical nerd's aversion to sports, they let her be equally as athletic as booksmart. She's a likeable, well-rounded character, and I feel like that's important when you know that her storyline includes a struggle with drug use. It may not be a perfect arc, but there are elements of it that make it worthwhile to have included, anyways. She shows us that some people end up engaging with addictive substances for reasons we don't even think of, she shows us how desperate it can be sometimes to try to keep up with literally everything when you're in burn-out. The fact that she is a likeable character and you are probably rooting for her to get better is so important. Addiction is so deeply stigmatized that the people who struggle with it are largely dehumanized and defined by others by their condition instead. The showrunners wanted us to see her desire specifically for men her sister dates as a character flaw, and to a point it may be (although, if she had some psychological complex that made her specifically want her sister's boyfriends, it wasn't explored explicitly in cannon), but I refuse to see Melissa's taste in hot trash as Spencer's problem. Getting a crush on an older man isn't a crime, but hooking up with a 14-year-old is.

Jenna SA-ed her step brother and because of that I personally feel conflicted about her character for the entirety of the story. There is something about the house fire causing her blindness that feels like delicious karma, yet I still have sympathy for her and when events come up where her sight may be restored I'm hoping for it to be successful. I want to be repulsed by her and feel like every awful thing that's dished out to her is deserved, but I can't. Her existence, for me, brings up questions about how much punishment is reasonable for atrocities; how do we find the line between "she deserves it" and "we could go on like this forever but it's helping no one"? How much should someone be punished and for how long when they have caused someone unspeakable, lifelong trauma but torturing them will not alleviate the burden of their victim(s)? Can any kind of punishment ever match this kind of a crime- and if we decide that it can't, what options are we left with? Jenna makes me wonder what "should" happen.

And then, of course, there's Alison- who seems to have bullied her friends at least as much as other people but evidently loved them enough to risk her life to show up for them if they were in danger and kill someone to protect them with no hesitation. I have a long history of being bullied, especially for my weight. Alison should do nothing but piss me off, but she's so fascinating she's actually my favorite.

I wonder how the fuck these cops think a bunch of teenage girls got a hold of evidence that should have been in police custody. Did they just not look into that? That should have been a precinct-wide search, starting with the last person to have checked it out.

Awesome, Garret's an asshole.

Lucas didn't handle Hanna's rejection well, but maybe he's coming around. I'm proud of him.

A rocking chair is an odd gift, but it's still thoughtful.

If Spencer wants Toby to forget about her, why is she like...meeting up with him like this?

There are times when the "had you fooled" works really well, and this is one of them.

"I should have told your mother the truth at the police station" what in the everliving FUCK?! This logic is so bad I can't even find the words to explain how bad it is. He thinks he should have told the Montgomeries about his relationship with their daughter after she and her friends were arrested under suspicion of murder.

"We're moving back to Rosewood" - wtf??? This Isabel bitch really said she's gonna move in next door to this man's ex-wife knowing he cheated with her when their engagement was strained. Okay. Does anyone make good choices in this story?

Emily had to find out she was alone the hard way.

I am about as surprised by the things I forgot as I am impressed by what I remember.

[avewritesmr]

Hi 👋🏻 can I get prompt list 2 #19 with skz changbin

Prompt: Peppering their face with kisses

Word Count: 892 words

Pairing: Seo Changbin x Male!Reader

Group: Stray Kids

Genre: angst, fluff

A/N: turned out more angsty than I had initially planned but failing exams does that to a person, I hope you like it 💖

Constructive criticism helps people grow and it helps them improve in their fields of study or work.

Telling a lyricist where they can improve a line in a song or an artist what technique they were doing wrong could help that person identify their weaknesses and work on them in a healthy way.

Sitting an idol in his early 20s in front of a bunch of men in their 50s who had very limited knowledge of the work that went into producing and having these men rip apart all the songs the idol had spent hours producing with nothing but harsh words and uninformed opinions was not constructive criticism.

It was nothing more than petty bullying, unwarranted hatred and ignorance.

Changbin had steeled himself during the onslaught of words, he’d swallowed the lump in his throat, hardened his face and sat tensely until the men had had enough and he had excused himself fists clenched and blood pumping in his ears.

The rest of the day had been tense, his members could see the storm raging behind his eyes and the smoke coming out of his ears.

Aside from a few silent hugs of comfort and pats on the back they had left him on his own knowing it would be what would make him the most comfortable at that moment.

Changbin appreciated the lack of prying comments and uncomfortable conversation. He was nothing but angry and he did not want his anger to flow onto the other members in a way that could hurt them, not when he had so little self control at the moment.

He had held  out through the entirety of their dance practice and following logistics meeting but the line between calm Changbin and ready to kill someone Changbin was becoming very blurred after each passing hour.

The longer Changbin sat there the longer his anger festered and grew. He hated that feeling and by the time they had finished and were packing up to go home he just wanted that ugly anger to be gone.

By the time he is dragging himself through the front door his nerves are wound up so tight he feels like he is about to burst.

He is greeted by soft music in an unfamiliar language playing through his boyfriends apartment. He can smell food cooking and it makes him relax a little.

“You’re back, how was your day?” y/n is smiling at him from the kitchen doorway.

Something about y/n’s smile makes Changbin hurt. He doesn’t respond to the others question, he can’t respond with the lump in his throat.

y/ns smile fades slowly when he sees the tears welling up in Changbin’s eyes. He moves towards Changbin slowly, Changbin doesn’t move, he tries to swallow the lump in his throat but he’s just so tired.

Being as angry as he was is tiring, and doing it for a whole day has drained his energy and now he just wants to cry and let go of all the words that the board of idiots found necessary to tell him that morning.

y/n’s arms wrap around him, Changbin doesn’t have to tell him what’s wrong for the older to understand that he needs the comfort and Changbin is grateful for that.

Changbin lets himself cry then, the tears slowly falling down his cheeks, quiet sobs and shaking shoulder, he feels a little better when he lets himself cry. A relief he hadn’t imagined possible with the intense anger that had been haunting him all day.

When he runs out of tears to cry he slowly pulls his face away from y/n’s shoulder. The older meets his gaze with soft eyes and a comforting smile. Changbin wants to cry for an entirely different reason now.

He sniffles and tries to muster a smile to comfort y/n but he can’t quite find the energy to do it.

y/n just laughs lightly at his failed attempt.

“let yourself be sad, don’t push it.” Changbin nods his agreement to the statement and leans into y/n’s hand that has come up to cup his cheek.

y/n kisses his forehead, a habit he had gotten into long ago, Changbin loves when the older does it.

It is usually followed by a kiss to Changbin’s lips but instead y/n kisses his cheek and the corner of his eye. He kisses Changbins nose and his chin and every inch of space on his face.

It makes Changbin feel loved and the smile that comes to his lips when y/n kisses them isn’t forced.

Changbin tells the older of the days event as they eat dinner that night, the outraged expression on y/n’s face is comforting as well.

Changbin isn’t fighting alone, sometimes he forgets that.

Later he plays y/n the songs, one of them makes the older furrow his eyebrows in slight confusion at the lyrics, Changbin notes it down.

Constructive criticism, he decides as he is going to sleep with y/n’s arms wrapped around him that night, is the small comments about a strange word he added in his lyrics, it is the confused expression on someone’s face when a certain part of the beat doesn’t fit quite right and it is the warm reassurance that his effort is valid and his talent is acknowledged.

Screw a bunch of old men in suits, he has a nice boy who kisses his face and treats him like he is made out of porcelain, that boys opinions are worth so much more.

[whaleofatjme1920]

jk on the rolling x3

Honestly, if we're getting into story aspects- even as an adult there were countless times I even forgot what Harry Potter was supposed to be about. Like, at the beginning I thought the entire story was supposed to be about a boy who lost his parents going through life and figuring out what happened in the past to overcome the future and save people- or something. Instead we got a bunch of crappy "romance" and severely forced scenes with unlikeable characters and forgettable storylines that made little to no sense. You'd think because I grew up on Harry Potter and was literally obsessed with it I'd remember what it was about, right? NO. I don't remember anything. At all. If I try and think about Harry Potter all I remember are the characters names at most, the rest just comes up blank. If that's not a red flag that JK did a terrible job at writing a series, I don't know what is. Like, how can someone go from obsessing over a series to completely forgetting all about it? If she actually wrote a good story it wouldn't be so damn forgettable. I remember trying to rewatch the movies a few years ago but I only got like, 3 movies in the first time then got bored and gave up. After that I tried again to watch the movies and only got like, 30 minutes into the first one before giving up. HP went from a childhood staple for me to completely lost in the void with little to no memory of it other than "I was obsessed with this as a kid" yet not knowing why I was so into it? Remember how I mentioned I had a huge crush on Harry Potter as a kid? Yeah, after I grew older I grew out of that fast. He actually ended up becoming nearly my least favorite character in the entire series, the one beating him by a landslide being his literal fucking mother who we barely even saw. In fact, I hate the entire fucking Potter family?! They're all just a bunch of assholes who grew up bullying people then ended up having a great fucking life in the end. It's a fucking bad sign when someone likes your main characters enemy more than the main character themselves. Draco is great, sure he's a bit of a dick and a bully himself- but he at least had some sort of reason to be so cruel, opposed to Harry's fucking dad who was popular, a bully, and got the girl his victim was into. At this point I'm literally rooting for Voldemort? Like, I'm on his side because the entirety of the rest of the characters just fucking suck and I hate almost all of them.

-

- Me down here: this is reaching levels of HP lore I have NO IDEA so I'm just gonna say right on lmfao. I remember hearing that Lily? Lilly? and James Potter were actually jerks! There's just so much to unpack here lmfao. Not gonna read the books to find out but you guys who did - veteran's discount right there.

[tenebriscollective]

A Response

First, before we do this, we’re going to take the liberty of posting your entire response to our review that we left. However, I do hope you are aware that we could absolutely tell that you didn’t bother reading through the whole thing. As a lot of what you say in this response is already denied in the review you were responding to. For the sake of those who don’t like long posts, however, we will be putting everything beyond this point under a read more.

The link to the site, so that you can read our original review: https://disboard.org/server/213915266554396672

This is The Megane System’s response, in full. Which we will be taking parts of to go through for our response piece by piece. One can’t say we cut context when we provide the full response and the link back to the server page to show the original review, hm?

The response: 

Posting words here instead of talking to me directly like an adult is why I'm not the dangerous one. Really don't care or want anything to do with any of you who value publicly airing dirty laundry as opposed to just talking to me so you can feed your ego feeling like a 'good person'. Sprinkling it with words that sound like understanding mean nothing when you shut down normal communication methods. This kind of cancel culture is emotionally manipulative, predatory and has endangered lives. Life isn't clean and squeaky, neither are you and neither am I. If you can't get your head out your ass long enough to realise this then enjoy your delusions of purity but I assure you everyone you have ever met and ever will meet has had dark thoughts of violence, disturbing imagery and vile emotions. It's part of life, denying that is denying life. I've never 'defended someone sexualising a little alter in the server' and I'm still baffled where the hell that came from?? Everything else was scraped out of personal DMs and my personal spaces I used to manage my BPD away from public spaces and only where people I thought I could trust could see (obviously I couldn't lol) but that I have zero recollection of I think you guys are just having fun giving me horns and trying to deny me any consideration of changing or improving. Because that's what this thinking does. It labels people permanently as 'BAD PEOPLE', and they can't ever grow beyond that. It makes their lives feel worthless, and they themselves beyond saving, and so they end up repeating the same mistakes, because no one expects anything more from them. I know this because I've always tried to break this in how I run my server. With the belief that anyone can become something better, that anyone who believes anything, holds any views can be helped to grow and function better among others. That's why I allow people with 'bad views' around me. That's why I talk to them, that's why I actually spend time treating people as people and not punching bags like you do. You do not help the problems in the world, you merely cement them, so I will never run my server how you want me to, because it is wrong and I won't cave to a bunch of bullies.

We are going to start off to state first addressing the very start of this. But put simply, Megane System (we will be referring to you collectively, since we have a system member who is also called Reiji, and don’t want people to get mixed up), we were never under any obligation to contact you directly. Framing it as if we’re the dangerous one because we didn’t do that is quite manipulative, and honestly quite ironic. Given you never gave us even a seconds moment to communicate before evicting us out of the server when we were still a staff member. We were trying to communicate, but were simply being ignored. The fact that you try now to weaponize this lack of communication as a method to somehow disprove and dismiss our review is honestly hilarious.

Really don't care or want anything to do with any of you who value publicly airing dirty laundry as opposed to just talking to me so you can feed your ego feeling like a 'good person'.

Airing dirty laundry implies that the accusations we outlined in that review weren’t the degree of seriousness that they were. This is honestly also the worst attempt at downplaying what we said we’ve ever seen, but it does show that you clearly didn’t read our review in its entirety, despite there being parts at the end specifically addressed to you and Alec.

Sprinkling it with words that sound like understanding mean nothing when you shut down normal communication methods. This kind of cancel culture is emotionally manipulative, predatory and has endangered lives.

Again, we were under no obligation to use normal communication methods, especially when normal communication methods in the staff room were completely shut down while you maligned everyone in the staff because we didn’t like that you had returned so suddenly and without warning, and knew that the sudden return would not mean good things for those you hurt, who were, at the time, on the server. And honestly, I think it’s emotionally manipulative that you continuously deflected questions while we were in the server about your drama and tried to frame it as something incredibly small, inconsequential, and petty. 

Life isn't clean and squeaky, neither are you and neither am I.

We and anyone who has ever called you out never claimed to be. You made this assumption because we called out your behavior which crossed lines that should never have been crossed in the first place.

If you can't get your head out your ass long enough to realise this then enjoy your delusions of purity but I assure you everyone you have ever met and ever will meet has had dark thoughts of violence, disturbing imagery and vile emotions. It's part of life, denying that is denying life.

We are well aware and do not have our head in our ass. But I have never met anyone but you and other awful people who would not only have, but vocalize in detail those thoughts to other people, whether those people were the target of those thoughts or not. I’ve met plenty who write journals irl to get it out, who draw to get it out, or write whump and angst fanfics in order to vent it out in a manner that doesn’t emotionally hurt anyone or suddenly shove those thoughts onto individuals who may not be mentally or emotionally prepared to hear it, even if they have them too or have similarly aligned ones. Again, there was no context that you could ever assign to the screenshot being talked about in this part that would make what you said in anyway ever acceptable, even to those who have intrusive or dark thoughts of violence, disturbing imagery, or vile emotions.

I've never 'defended someone sexualising a little alter in the server' and I'm still baffled where the hell that came from??

We have screenshots and logs that prove the opposite, and I’m sure the person we received them from would not be all that fussed if we asked for them a second time and gave them to either of the blogs that currently have callouts circulating about you. Because you did do this, you may not have recollection of it, but the non-little alters of that system and the one who tried to step in and were stopped by you certainly do.

Everything else was scraped out of personal DMs and my personal spaces I used to manage my BPD away from public spaces and only where people I thought I could trust could see (obviously I couldn't lol) but that I have zero recollection of

And as we stated in our original review, your BPD, your (suspected, but not formally diagnosed) autism, or any other mental illness diagnoses or disorder you may have does not absolve you of the fact that many of the things you did were not okay. Your continued use of “but I have [x mental illness/disability] and was managing it” or “it was personal” will not change our minds on that. We are formally and professionally diagnosed as Autistic, we know  you have attempted to excuse your behavior before by saying you might be autistic yourself. Thereby you were attempting to excuse your shitty behavior with being possibly autistic, and excuse your shitty behavior because you have BPD does not fly. Many of the people with callouts against you or who don’t like you either know someone with, or also have BPD/Autism or whatever other mental illness or disability you’re going to try excusing it with next time.

I think you guys are just having fun giving me horns and trying to deny me any consideration of changing or improving.

Another sign you did not fully read our review, or just plain didn’t believe us due to your own assumptions. As we state in the last part that is specifically addressed to you that we hope you are able to change and improve, that you are able to recognize what you did hurt people and was wrong, and that you rectify and show through your actions that you do that. But downplaying all of this as you are as just drama, or just a facet of “cancel culture”, or whatever other thing that makes it sound less significant does not prove that. And so, as of right now, as we respond to this and surely as you continue with your server and trying to twist things to fit your narrative, you have not shown that you have changed or improved.

Because that's what this thinking does. It labels people permanently as 'BAD PEOPLE', and they can't ever grow beyond that. It makes their lives feel worthless, and they themselves beyond saving, and so they end up repeating the same mistakes, because no one expects anything more from them. I know this because I've always tried to break this in how I run my server. With the belief that anyone can become something better, that anyone who believes anything, holds any views can be helped to grow and function better among others. That's why I allow people with 'bad views' around me. That's why I talk to them, that's why I actually spend time treating people as people and not punching bags like you do.

We don’t treat people like punching bags, no matter their views. We treat people as people, even if we disagree, but if those people do not treat us as people in return, it’s harder to feel empathy when they have consequences slap them in the face. I know you’re referring to our rewritten rules here, and I’m sure you’ve trashed them to make your own again, and stopped cracking down so hard on all the usage of slurs in the server once again. And if cracking down on that and keeping to our word about not allowing those on the server is what you see as treating people not as people, then I don’t know what to tell you. Slurs come inherently from bigotry, no amount of “opposing views” erases that those words come from that. Let alone that there are some views that are simply bigotry dressed up in a political hat.

We did talk to those people, we had debates, and we stepped in when people were getting too heated between each other to be considered a debate. Anyone can become better and improve, anyone can make a change to do so. But you can only do that if you put in the effort, and so far, you haven’t done that. You’re all talk, but you haven’t actually walked the walk.

You do not help the problems in the world, you merely cement them, so I will never run my server how you want me to, because it is wrong and I won't cave to a bunch of bullies.

You mean how we want you to run the server in a way that makes sure it’s not a place that lacks solace and allows bigotry to fester under the guise of different views? Or how we want you to make sure that any system littles currently in that server, if they haven’t left already, are protected so that they aren’t sexualized and that you don’t defend the people sexualizing those littles? Because from how we see it, none of those things particularly make us “bullies” like you claim, they just make us considered a decent person who has proper boundaries on what they will and won’t allow, and someone who’s willing to actually enforce them so that members don’t feel uncomfortable or unsafe.

Anyway, as before, we doubt you’ll read all of this, but if you do, here’s a big notice, right in big big italicized letters:

We won’t be responding again, flail all you want, make a fuss, throw a tantrum that we aren’t going to give you the time of day. Because we honestly don’t care. Because we don’t and never have owed you any of our time.

[writing-frenzy]

Must Have Done Something in a Past Life (To Deserve This)

Summery: Being in the Entity’s realm, some of course wonder what they did to deserve it; some joke maybe they did something in a past life or something

(Never noticing how a certain nervous leader twitched at that)

Warning: Mentions and Acts of bullying, Cruelty, animal abuse, Past toxic/abusive relationships, some mentions of murder.

(So, I got inspired :3 Of course my SI-OC side would come into play, and Dead By Daylight will not be missed. Tho, mind the tags, as this SI-OC... yeah, they were not a good person, so make sure to be mindful of your health.)

============================================

When Dwight Fairfield was young, he’s always had dreams. Dreams of being popular, making friends, making it big in life, being a winner... But most of his bullies usually destroyed those dreams rather easily, locking him in lockers, pushing his head in a toilets, messing and even destroying his things, and generally just beating him up, writing over him Loser in permeant marker.

His first year of high school had certainly been a learning experience, though probably not in the way his teachers expected. Dwight might not have the best grades in the school, but even with all the shit he put up with and missing/ripped homework, he always managed to get by at least; he was adaptable if nothing else. He learned to watch the halls, learned who would be willing to let him hide from the bullies or at least would turn a blind eye to him if he passed by, wouldn’t call them to attention for a quick smackdown. He learned to keep his head down, learned to watch and wait and calculate other’s schedule’s and habits, to avoid the worst of the assholes who got a kick out of life by trying to kick him out of it.

But nothing, not all the skills and tricks he could muster up could compete with Lady Luck’s bad side.

It happened when one of his worst bully’s deciding to skip, just as the glasses wearing youth decided to go to the restroom that the unfortunate bump in happened.

“Ah, look, how you’ve been Dwight, long time no see.” was said rather cheerfully, the Bully wrapping an arm around the rapidly paling teen, Dwight refusing to say anything, least he provide fodder for that wicked look in the other’s eyes, the embers their not yet blazing at least. But still, he did nod, knowing that if he didn’t respond it would just provoke the other even worse. (So either way, he was going to suffer, but at least this way he could minimize as much risk as he could. He would gamble in ways he knew had some payoff, always watching the others face and hands with his own eyes, moving his head as little as possible.)

“You know, after so long apart, we should really do something to celebrate, right? Especially since we won’t see each other over the summer.” the stronger, taller, and very much built man said, arm going tight on Dwights shoulder, making him wince, stoking that wicked glee in the other’s eye.

‘Oh, this is not going to be fun.’ the nerdy teen thought, the world easily proving how right that was, his bully calling up some of his ‘friends’ as he did.

And they even brought ‘supplies’.

With Duct tape all wrapped around him and forcing him in place, stuck to the wall as he was, Dwight could only sit and take it as random items from balls to rocks were thrown at him, the youth doing his best to dodge as much as he could with the little head movement he could manage.

(He really, really didn’t want to break his glasses again; he’s managed to go half the year without incident.)

Though, with every hit coming closer to his head, with ever slam of a item against his body and the wall, a migraine started to form, making Dwight feel even fainter then he did before. Something also seemed to be going on with his sight as well, flashes of red seeming to appear before his eyes here and there. The teens across from his seemed to change as well, shadows of men in dark uniforms across him instead.

Dwight honestly felt like he was going to be sick. But then, in a moment of inattention, something hit him hard before he knew nothing but darkness.

----

A young child, watching ants crawl all around, before with a bored expression, squishing them one by one.

A preteen, being sweet one moment with their dog before cruelty hitting it over and over the minute it did something wrong.

A young teen, sweetly smiling up at the lady he just helped up, even as they stole her wallet with ease.

A young adult, gently breaking up with their devoted girlfriend, knowing this would be the last thing to send them over the edge.

An adult, ever so charming and popular, even as their body count keeps rising in their shadow.

This killer finally meeting their end, messing with the heart of someone who already had many admirers, tied up and yet still smiling, even as someone pulls out a gun.

“I’ve always wondered what was after death.” was said with that same gentle grin, those eyes so wicked even still as the bullet finally hits them.

(Oh, how they find out; they finally found something in this world to fill that emptiness in them.) 

-------

Ever since that incident, with Dwight having to visit the hospital thanks to the bullies going to far, things have been different. For one, the school had to actually punish the bullies, suspending them and having this go on their permeant records, seeing as one of the bullies had actually been livestreaming the event in it’s entirety.

This had the blessed effect of number two; with the school being cracked down on, Dwight was blessedly left alone the next two months before the Summer Holidays. Sure, there was some snide comments and the occasional shove, but otherwise, Dwight wasn’t complaining.

Not when he had other things to complain about.

‘Oh, and here I thought I was being the model roommate.’ was said ever so innocently, Dwight having to close his eyes when he heard it, ‘By the way, you forgot to carry the seven.’

Number three; the new voice that suddenly took up residence in his head. A Voice that came with a bunch of disturbing memories, a morbid sense of humor, and ironically a good teacher.

‘Doesn’t hurt having a good student; now come on, you just have a few more questions to look through and then you don’t have to worry about looking at math for the rest of the summer.’ is said by the Voice.

“And do what for the rest of the summer?” Dwight grumbled, opening his eyes once more to his drab little room as he went on with his math sheet, making sure to carry the 7 now in his division, which ended up making much more sense.

‘Many things; maybe go to the movies, play those games you like, kill time and maybe some people, oh, you can learn a new language.’ the Voice said ever so causally. 

Dwight used to wonder what he did in a past life to deserve the shit he went through; he really wish it could have gone unanswered, like with other people.

“...I might take you up on the language thing.” the young nerd said, looking over to a few of his manga and comics he had to the side, before he went to work back at his homework; it really was almost done, being the last of the summer homework he worked through with the voice in his head.

‘And I do believe it’s about time you stopped calling me that; I am more then just a voice after all.’ said Voice reminded him, the young teen twitching at that.

(Giving people names... made them apart of the world, made them someone who also had their own choices and decisions all around them... It made them real...)

“... Sure, Janus.” Dwight said, knowing the other would prefer that over their ‘actual’ name instead.

(All the while, Janus, or Dwight Jackson, huffed in the mind they found themselves in; before, they had always been so empty, never wanting to be alone, but so bored, so dull with everyday life and all it’s idle entertainments. Even killing was boring after a while, the thrill of it all becoming much too easy, much too routine after so long doing it and never being caught. It’s what made him decide to end it all in the first place and go out with a bang.

But watching someone else live their life, watching someone else struggle, claw their way to stay above society’s waters, watching each and every move this Dwight made, to survive on top of it all...

Well, Janus really couldn’t get enough of it to be honest; he could probably watch for eternity and not get bored, actually feeling alongside Dwight.) 

{All the while this goes on, neither notice the darkness in town, traveling the streets, wrapping around his home, eager and waiting.}

==================================== 

Writer Notes:

:D

Dwight is such a fun character to play around with; so nervous, and yet capable, is a leader despite everything, can be a petty little shit when he wants, and yet so kind too. yeah, giving him a past life as a serial killer was mean, but so much fun, especially since the two of them are part of the Whole.

Janus: Charming, Seductive, easily bored, is ironically more of a follower then a leader; he would be a really competent as a right hand man or second in command; he just never found anyone worthy to follow, feeling ever so empty in his life.

Dwight: Awkward, Introverted, is actually someone that is a natural born leader and can stand his own, but because of his environment he grew up in, he ended up burying those talents to try and fit in.

(The two of them, above all else, hate being alone more than anything.)

Hope you all enjoyed it! 

[honey-hippie-harper]

The Day Gatlon Fell

(TW: VIOLENCE)

IT’S VALENTINE’S DAY AFSGHJAFSGHJA. I should’ve done something nice but I don’t seem to be physically capable of doing that, sO IF YOU WOULD BE SO KIND TO PLEASE FORGIVE ME AFGSHAFGHAJ. I guess from the title it’s...kinda clear what this is all about, because I like to write about my imaginary complex relationships in Renegades. Yet, I wrote it with love and I hope you like it :’)

This fic is actually a present for those who want to accept it (If you don’t, I understand tbh). But  I’m going to dedicate it for the ones who constantly pretend they tolerate me and like my writing, which are my fellow Reneweys: @healing-winston-pratt @obsidianfr3sk @alecjamesartino @nodrianbcyes @everyone-has-a-nightmare . I love you guys SO much. Thanks for being a safe space full of people who share the same mother tongue and laugh at my stupid jokes.

Also @all-weather-is-bad whom I love very much. Thank you for tolerating me to :’) <3 and @ifyouhadntbutyoudid bECAUSE FELLOW LATINA <3 (also your art for HCTTR still makes me cry and I know you like Leroy).

And idk if this matters or not, but, for the ones who understand Spanish, this fic was heavily based upon this (yes, the contemporary dance and everything don’t judge me: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RaaVpaE1XGA

Alec called them the Anarchists, because he called himself Ace Anarchy. And, in a world where prodigies were hurt, mistreated and killed, he also called them hope.

Hope called themselves the Anarchists, and they reunited at the outskirts of the city, and then they marched towards Gatlon when it was still dawning. There were many, many of them, creating a huge mass of people. Some of them were only wearing masks in order to protect their identity, but others, like them, the main circle of Anarchists, were in full costume, including Alec, Ace Anarchy, who was marching at the back of the crowd, for Alec Artino had faked his disappearance (and possible assassination) less than two weeks ago.

As an act of symbolism (in Alec’s own words) the Queen Bee was at the lead, while him, Leroy (Cyanide), stood two steps behind her, with Gerard Hoffman, Atomic Brain, at his right, and Lincoln Palmer, Brimstone, at his left. Behind them were Dexter Hartley, Rat, and the Thompsons. Then, everything was too much, and there were too many people to name them all, when he barely remembered his own name at the moment.

Every distance looked moderately short until you had to travel it by foot, or when you were too anxious to arrive at your destination. Leroy, personally, didn’t consider himself to be anxious per se. At least, that wasn’t the word he would’ve used to describe his situation.

For the first time in forever, Leroy’s mind was making too much noise, and he didn’t know how to make it stop, nor did he know how to decipher what it was trying to say to him. While he marched, Leroy was surrounded by sounds. There were the distant, faint movements of the awakening city, the ring of keys, the dragging of boots, the hasty breaths, the silent prayers, Honey humming to an inexistent melody, while her dress danced to her voice, hanging from her body.

Honey was easily one of the best dressed out of the bunch, which was a very typical Honey attitude from her part. The most meaningful thing in his own costume was the lab coat and the scientific pun, but it was more than enough for him, knowing that, after today, many of the people here wouldn’t be alive anyway, and he wasn’t even sure whether he would make it, either.

By the time they started reaching the city’s main entrance, the sun was covering half of their bodies, announcing they might have “nice” (hot) weather today. For a while, at least. And the heat was so extreme it made Leroy’s temple sweat, as well as the rest of his face, behind the mask. However, he resisted the urge to remove it, as his mind started making too much noise again, when it forced him to remember Alec’s words.

“And, remember, that you are the pain, you are the fire, and I am the courage.” He said, while they were sitting around the campfire, one messy night, running away from the police. “Because courage comes from the same place as fear.”

Leroy didn’t agree with some of Alec’s ways. Hell. He really didn’t. Nevertheless, he was also aware of his own position. He was aware he was a prodigy, and he was aware people were exhausting.

Even before he became…special, people were already picking on him. Leroy had been a punching bag the entirety of his life. First, for being too ordinary.

There was always a defect they could find in him.

When he admitted his father had abandoned his mother not long after he was born, he became the fatherless kid who wasn’t important enough to make his father stay (as if his father being an asshole had been his fault); when his mother met Claire, his other mother, he became the outcast who lived with two insane and sick women who dared to say they were in a serious, romantic relationship (even though they were evidently in love); when he discovered he enjoyed science, he became the weird kid who liked Thursdays, because that’s when Mr. Ruiz used to take them to the lab; when he discovered he was good at school overall and teachers offered him to move him one grade ahead, he became the ugly, creepy and fat nerd kid who lived with dykes and had no life.

And so, Leroy was murdered by his classmates in eleventh grade, in the lab. And when he came back as a prodigy, he became the burden. The fucker. The freak. The disgusting prodigy who should’ve stayed dead.

Because, when it came to people, it was never enough.

It really was never enough.

When they didn’t like you, there wasn’t a limit they wouldn’t reach in order to let you know. They hated you when you were too ordinary, but they hated you more when you were extraordinary.

Being a prodigy meant being your own fight. It meant being out there, in a minefield where everybody was chasing after you, and nobody stopped to help. People were often afraid of the things they couldn’t understand.

But courage came from the same place as fear.

And it was a dark, messed up place that, in the rare cases where it didn’t drive you crazy, it ended up killing you.

Alec’s ideas were extreme and a little twisted, even, but nobody had ever seemed to care as much as he did, and Leroy had to give him that.

He strongly defended that, if nobody did, then there would be a time where somebody would have to, and he had to give him that too. Because, one day, he just decided that person would be him. Because, if not him, then who?

“I’m my own fight. We’re all our own fight. And you should just face that and shut your ass, before you get killed.” Leroy told him the day after he personally met him, when Honey called him, saying the wound in his calf had gotten uglier and he was banned from the majority of the hospitals in the city. At first, Leroy didn’t know why that should’ve been a matter of concern to him, but he ended up showing him at the apartment anyway. When he realized Alec hadn’t learned anything from the previous experience and was already planning the next riot, he felt the burning desire to cauterize him out of spite.

So Leroy cauterized him, with no previous warning. Alec screamed so loud he thought he was going to pass out. But when he was done, Alec thanked him, because, sure, he had nearly fainted thanks to the pain, but the wound was closed and no longer bleeding.

“I won’t get killed.” Alec declared, as if he were some type of almighty god. “But if I do, it will be defending my place and my rights. You say we’re all our own fight. Correct. But, as prodigies, we have to stick together.”

“And why is that, exactly?”

“Because somebody has to fight for us.”

“You want to fight for us.”

“I want us to fight for us.”

At that moment, Honey came into the room, carrying a tray with a steaming cup and a plate with French toast with honey.

“They can’t kill us all.” She said.

“Oh, but they can.”

Before she could answer, Alec spoke again.

“Then how come we’re still here?”

As the hours, days, weeks and months went by, Leroy, beneath all his cynicism and incredulity, realized he cared. And, once he was invested in the cause, he decided he cared enough to believe them.

They couldn’t kill them all, but they could kill some of them. Yet, they would die caring and believing, and defending their legitimate right to having lived in the first place. There were some things they couldn’t take back, but there were others they could stop them from taking away.

Because somebody had to.

And, if nobody wanted to fight for them, then they had to be their own fight.

Leroy had already gone down once, and that was the reason why he was willing to do it again if necessary. There were Alecs out there, who had been born prodigies and judged, mistreated and pointed at because of it; there were Honeys out there, who had suffered from fatidic accidents that had left a mark in them forever; there were Leroys out there, who had been bullied for not being a prodigy, but also for being one.

As long as he was alive, there would be no more Leroys. No more Honeys, either. No more Alecs.

They were their own fight, but they were also each other’s fight.

So, as they marched towards the city, they were carrying tons and tons of weight, even from the pain that didn’t belong to them. Even from pain that had already been silenced.

Silenced like the inert body of a murdered prodigy.

Silenced like the city the moment they saw them come.

Needless to say, they were coming in with previous instructions to show no mercy in case anything went wrong, knowing these people had already been attacked right at the heart of their system (their mayor), but when they saw them walk, they showed no resistance to let them through.

Gatlon City met the Anarchists in a moment that remained suspended into the air, while some of them dispersed to block the entrances and exits, and others stood in the middle of the traffic, creating a human wall that prevented the cars from moving forward.

Traffic lights exploded, as well as display screens, just like the days when authorities were trying to censor a violent riot. Doors became locked, just like the days when citizens were being notified of a group of violent prodigies marching through the city, except this time citizens weren’t the ones locking themselves in. Telephone lines became cut, just like the days when they did that so agonizing prodigies wouldn’t say a last goodbye to their loved ones who lived far away.

They were many. Too many.

And they couldn’t kill them all.

When they realized that, panic started spreading among them.

Queen Bee was still taking the lead, but the lines began to become blurrier and blurrier with every second, as some of the prodigies had to leave the formation in order to silence those who dared to try to oppose.

Gatlon City was a bold, intimidating place, with huge buildings, blinding lights and overwhelmingly wide streets that could swallow you whole if you weren’t careful enough. Yet, it welcomed the Anarchists in a scene that was as surreal as it was fascinating. Out of a sudden, it seemed to shrink before them.

To the elemental prodigies’ hands, the sky started to look as if split in two, fragile and breakable like the green leaves hanging from the trees, which were swaying like Honey’s blonde curls that day at the beach.

It was a public music festival, which they had attended while the Thompsons babysat David, out of pure and classic peer pressure coming from Honey herself.

Leroy showed up late at the beach, after waking up from a seven hour nap (the result of not sleeping at night), given that, despite living together, Honey expressed she hadn’t woken him up because she thought it was only an excuse to stand them out.

Beneath the loud chattering, the live music and the crowding, their presence became as irrelevant as a single grain of sand before it was taken away by a wave, but they still managed to get a decent spot, where they could see the stage from the blanket they were using as seats.

Out of the few bucks they were carrying with them at the moment, they managed to gather enough for a bucket of fish and chips from the food trucks, so they sent Alec to go get it, which left Honey and Leroy alone (though surrounded by people) in the blanket.

It was about time she said something about it, but when she did, Leroy still felt the need to roll his eyes at her until they rolled out of his face.

“You’re the only two people I know who dress like that to come to the beach. It’s honestly embarrassing.”

She was referring to the fact Leroy was wearing jeans, sneakers and a black hoodie, while Alec was wearing jeans as well, and a black T-shirt he had gotten for free at an event in his faculty.

“What are you? A vampire or something?” Upon saying that, Honey got her hands in the cooler and took a can of lime flavored soda from it.

“I don’t like leaving the house without my hoodie.” Leroy responded above the clic and the hissing produced by the carbonation. “It hides my rolls.”

It’s not like Leroy was ashamed of his body. In fact, he didn’t give a damn about it, for he wasn’t one to take care of his physical appearance that much. Nevertheless, having people pointing out defects he already knew he had was annoying and an inconvenience he rather preferred not to go through.

“What are you trying to say to me?” Honey let out a screeching laugh, shaking her head to get her hair off her face, before taking a sip from her soda, very slowly, staring directly into Leroy’s eyes, with an arched eyebrow, not mad, but a little malicious and suggestive.

Whatever she was trying to do, it worked perfectly well, because Leroy could tell the exact part of his sentence where he had gone wrong and dug his own grave. Despite his efforts to conceal it and pretend he didn’t regret saying it, he still felt his face burn a little.

Honey was wearing a two-piece swimsuit that day. A yellow bikini top with white polka dots (“Hope you’re getting a great view because this is the only time you’ll ever see me wearing a bra” “You really are a hippie pothead” “So what?” “Honey Hippie Harper” “Great name, Lery”) and a tight, also yellow with polka dots skirt. The top had a huge white bow tie that fell all the way towards her stomach area, but it’s not like it covered much, and Honey wasn’t exactly the size of a Barbie doll herself (though everybody in Gatlon agreed that, somehow, she still managed to look like one).

Good thing her self-esteem was as high as Everest.

“You’re just jealous I’m so hot it feels like my entire body is catching flames while you look like a poor man’s Dracula.”

“Your lexicon is above the clouds today. Did you teach yourself how to read? And you read Dracula, just by chance?“

“You’re such a comedian. I’m dying. My lungs are aching from laughing so much.” Honey laughed sarcastically, in a flat tone, before taking another sip from her soda. “I had a pretty productive and nurturing self-teaching session yesterday.”

“I see.”

“I did teach myself how to read though, but, just so you know, I read Carmilla and not Dracula, because she came first.”

Being that said, she winked.

By that time, Honey didn’t attend as many feminist movements as before, nor did she lead them, but she still looked pretty invested in her cause and beliefs sometimes, and those were the moments when she looked more like herself.

“The more you know.” Leroy said, between his teeth.

Knowing she had won, Honey didn’t respond anything else on the matter, and reached for her sunglasses instead, putting them on. Then, she kept singing along to the song played by the band, about how the world was going to end soon.

Which was fitting for their current situation.

The entire world wasn’t ending today, but maybe it would, in case they succeeded. Leroy wasn’t the most positive person to have ever stepped on Earth, but, if one thing he knew, was that he was completely able to read and accept facts and get to the truth, and said truth was that Gatlon didn’t have much on its part. A bunch of regular citizens, against a bunch of prodigy citizens, whose mere existence was an advantage over them. And it’s not that Leroy thought prodigies were superior, but, objectively, prodigies could do things normal people couldn’t. That’s what made them prodigies in the first place, and it was part of the reason why they didn’t like them, too.

The terror in their faces made Leroy straighten his back. Above his head, he could already hear the helicopters and planes, both from the press and the government. Still standing in his place, he saw Honey stop. She didn’t hesitate or flinched, but she did stare directly at them. Her lips shimmered, as well as her eyes and the bee hanging from her neck, when the remaining morning sun reached and caressed them. Her expression remained serene, until it wasn’t, and her lips started arching into a sideways smile. With the whole crowd waiting behind her, Queen Bee clicked her tongue and giggled. Then, she waved at the sky, with her eyes grinning as well, behind the mask. Leroy could almost visualize the picture in a History book, in the chapter that talked about the day Gatlon fell.

When he took one step forward, he also saw himself in the frame. Honey, for sure, acknowledged his presence before she continued walking, squeezing his wrist a little, as a reassuring gesture he thought he didn’t need.

With two Anarchists at the lead, the weight of the protest became more evident, but the rest of the recruits were keeping them grounded. Flying prodigies were above their heads, keeping themselves at a prudent distance from the planes and helicopters, becoming an emergency signal for the others. They barked orders, so their companions knew where to aim.

The cocky individuals holding guns while standing in the sideway were attacked from behind and killed on spot. Some others didn’t have it that easy, for they were grabbed by extra arms or tentacles and smothered to death. Others were stabbed by flying pieces of glass or other sharp objects. And the one man who thought he was clever enough met Leroy’s palm, and while he tried not to step on his agonizing body (like Honey did) with a face now looking like a melted candle, he didn’t feel anything when he heard him wail in pain.

In fact, Leroy felt so blinded by adrenaline he couldn’t feel anything at all.

The only thing that managed to make him snap back into reality for a short while, was the warmth that later turned into almost unbearable heat and left them with a lack of oxygen for a short while.

Aracely Thompson, Dome, stepped forward and, with a stomp of her foot, translucent, golden chains rose from the ground, trapping the main Anarchists (plus Jerome and her) in a wide intangible circle, which chains melted into each other once the area was delimited, and turned into a see-through bubble. The ones from the outside could see them, but not hear or touch them, let alone harm them.

Leroy wondered why they hadn’t thought about that before, but he figured they had just thought about how Alec would manage just fine on his own at the back.

Fearless and merciless, they kept on walking the cracking pavement, through the growing chaos, trapped in their bubble with recycled air.

With the traffic suspended, the streets looked empty, as if naked. People had already gotten the message, and they were running like scared roaches, trying to get out of their way. Some were holding their children, some were holding their pets, and others were holding both.

“Where’s Ingrid?” Leroy asked in Honey’s ear, upon seeing a mother run away with her child, who looked around Ingrid’s age.

“At a daycare for single mothers…” Aracely was not a single mother (but she was only married through the eyes of religion. Jerome and her weren’t legally married, and, in theory, her name was still Aracely Brito, but she preferred to be called Thompson, and it was the only last name Ingrid had in her fake birth certificate) “In front of a lawyer firm by Trinity street. So, no matter what happens, don’t touch that building.”

They would have to warn Alec about it, or take Ingrid out before he could reach that daycare.

Some years ago, before Alec arrived to Gatlon, there had been an incident, where a daycare for prodigy children had been destroyed; it wasn’t considered legal, of course, and, through the eyes of the government, it didn’t exist. So, when they contacted the owners to ask them to close it and they refused, one of the gas tanks of the daycare conveniently exploded, resulting in a fire and the death of several prodigy children, which meant that, among a lot of other things, Alec would show no mercy for daycares for regular children. In other words, the entirety of daycares in Gatlon, including the one Ingrid was in.

Alec never forgot, nor did he forgive, and he had a wide knowledge in regards to the crimes Gatlon had committed against prodigies.

They continued on walking through the main street, which led to the main bridge, from which cars were falling like little ants. Nobody truly knew what Alec was planning to do, because he was as pragmatic as he was unpredictable, and the more you hung out with him, the looser the thread your life was hanging from became.

He just said Gatlon would fall.

And when he said something would happen, it usually happened.

Upon reaching the bridge, they were greeted by familiar faces, with familiar uniforms, who maybe thought this would be just another routine intervention. That they would be retouching a line they had already painted some time ago. That they had another chance.

There were uniformed men and women, some in cars, some in tanks, some in patrols, holding their guns and pointing at them, the ones who had made it into the bridge instead of staying in the fight below.

Leroy was starting to suspect a part of them knew it would be useless, because this time they weren’t giving them an option, but, still, in their eyes he could see they were desperate enough to try.

Due to the fact there were so many prodigies stepping on the bridge at once, the ground seemed to be buzzing, as well as the air, and the clouds, and the sky, and the life surrounding them, filled with the distant cries and the echoes of the ones they had lost in the way.

In that moment, when they had already arrived, Leroy drifted away.

He heard the bullets.

Bang, bang, bang.

It was a couple of months ago. They had just taken a government building with brute force, and they had locked it from the inside.

They stayed there for almost a week, until the police finally decided to cease fire and left the area. They had no food apart from some crackers and cheese sticks, they had no water (and no water elementals whatsoever), no electricity and no running water either. If that wasn’t bad enough on its own, some of them were injured or losing blood, and the bullets kept hitting the walls on the outside.

Bang, bang, bang.

Honey had always hated being unclean. Even when she wasn’t in the mood to take care of herself, she kept complaining about how much being dirty disgusted her. Hence, after two days, she sat in a corner and refused to move, until the day they were finally released. Everybody was at the verge of going crazy by then, and so, she decided to stand up and join Alec’s motivational speech about why they were doing this in the first place, in which Leroy was also involved.

Then, when it all went quiet, they just stayed there, with the question “Now what?” floating in the air.

One important part of Alec’s motto as a visionary, was reminding others that prodigies were people too. That they had rights. That they had feelings. That they had needs.

Honey, being herself, started singing Rivers of Babylon out of the blue, and while everybody in the room stared at her like she was crazy at first, suddenly, Alec started harmonizing with her, singing as loud as he did on Sundays, at Mass, dehydrated, hungry and everything.

Leroy just stepped aside, looking in the opposite direction, as if that would make everyone believe he didn’t know those two.

It was useless, because many people had already followed them by the second chorus.

Leroy still remembered the one line he had to drag out of his mouth when Honey placed the lipstick tube she was using as a fake microphone very close to his mouth, and everyone suddenly went silent, waiting for him.

“… When we remembered Zion…”

They went ballistic, almost as if they hadn’t been the ones to take this same building in the most violent way one could think about.

After two or three more cheesy songs that Leroy hated, there was a period of two or three minutes where nobody dared to take a turn in the invisible karaoke, and they realized there was something new there.

Absence.

There were no more bullets.

They were alone.

“I’m not very fond of Miss Harper’s taste in music.” Alec told him later that day, back at his apartment, where they had gone together to check on David and shower. “But it’s exactly what our revolution needs in its darkest times.”

“Because it’s obnoxious and loud?”

“No.” Alec told him, smiling sideways. “Because it’s vibrant. When choosing the head of a revolt, Leroy, everything’s about balance. You are serious, she is vibrant and I am versatile.”

“I thought we were talking about her music taste.”

“Are you implying that a person and their music taste aren’t deeply connected?”

That had been forever ago, compared to now, when the triggers were clicking loudly, and they were staring at their companions from sideways or from above.

Sirens screaming in the distance, along with the citizens. There was pain. There was death. There was blood. There were prodigies.

There was anarchy.

And through the confusion and anxiety, something started moving.

They started moving, at the sides, one by one, to let him through.

Now leading the crowd of Anarchists, stood Alec Artino, Ace Anarchy.

His costume was simple, with the boots, the pants, the navy blue sweater, with the golden A, the gabardine…

And the coppery helmet, made by David himself, shining on his head.

If Leroy didn’t know him well enough, he could’ve sworn he was losing his mind and that his mental health was in an extremely dark place.

Alec used to say David was one of the most powerful prodigies that had ever existed, and that this helmet would be the one thing that changed everything, once and for all. Leroy, who had never finished understanding what David could do, often doubted his words, and, to him, the helmet, if anything, only made him look ridiculous.

But he said Gatlon would fall today, and everyone believed him.

Hard as it was for him to admit it, Leroy did too.

“REMOVE THE HELMET AND IDENTIFY YOURSELF!”

If Honey had been able to speak instead of being completely frozen, she probably would’ve said the man at the front looked, plain and simple, like a cop. Light skin, brown eyes, dark brown hair combed to the side, gun in a trembling hand, afraid of the unknown.

The unknown, meaning Alec standing in front of him, with his hands laced behind his back, and his gabardine flowing with the wind.

“I SAID…!”

“I believe it was clear enough I heard you the first time.” Alec declared, tilting his head to the side. “Isn’t a person entitled to decide what questions they desire to respond to by sorting them according to their level of relevance?”

The man gulped so hard Leroy could almost hear him, and then Alec smirked.

“Can you drop your gun or is it attached to your hand? Because if it is, then I will not bother you again. But if it is not, I am going to need you to put it away so we can have a civilized conversation, like normal people do.”

“You’re… y-you’re not normal. Any of you are! YOU’RE NOT NORMAL, YOU MONSTERS! DROP YOUR WEAPONS, NOW!”

Honey’s bees were starting to present themselves at the scene, flying around her, a little uneasy. Leroy, from his part, felt calm, because this, sadly, wasn’t anything they hadn’t seen before.

“Yeah. That is exactly the problem.”

“STEP BACK!”

Alec refused to obey, and remained firm, right there where he was. Slowly, as if he were trying to mentally torture them, he lifted his right hand up. His fingers were in a very specific position, like he was about to make the sign of the cross on somebody.

It was Alec, meaning that, if he had done that, Leroy wouldn’t have been surprised.

But he didn’t.

Besides, if he had actually been planning to, they didn’t give him time for that, for the very second they saw him move, they shot, and many emergency alarms went off.

The bang was so loud Honey covered her ears, and her bees started trying to shield themselves by hiding behind her, beneath her hair or landing on her skin, never stinging her.

Leroy, from his part, felt his fingertips dripping with acid, preparing himself for the impact.

The impact never came.

Right in front of their eyes, the shower of bullets stops. The smell of gunpowder was still filling the air, and the bullets were still there, as present as ever.

However, they were suspended into the air, and one of them was almost touching Alec’s nose, who just smiled, before saying, in such a low volume Honey and him were the only ones who could hear:

“So be it, then.”

Being that said, he lifted his chin.

The bullets turned around.

Then, they were shot in the opposite direction, at full speed, to Alec’s will.

The man at the front of the formation fell first, followed by many others, with the bullets they had shot themselves, in an attempt to kill them.

They fell, one by one, and soon there were puddles of red on the floor, and other voices barking orders.

Shoot the canyons, they said.

But the canyons fell too.

Bring the bombs, they said.

And Alec waved them away as if they were some type of insignificant thing.

The planes, they said.

And they spun and flew out of control, before falling straight into the water or exploding midair.

Bullets stopped again and killed their shooters.

There was blood.

Tons of blood.

That’s when Leroy felt his heart pounding, upon coming to the maybe horrible realization that never had Alec been so strong.

His powers didn’t act like this.

His telekinesis was a hundred times more powerful.

It was…

It was the helmet

“GET THEM!” He shouted then, snapping Leroy back into reality, making him wonder how much time Alec had waited to say those words out loud.

To use those putrid words, the ones they always used before attempting against prodigies, against them.

If he wanted to be honest, hearing them felt good, but Leroy didn’t react immediately.

First he saw the chaos, when the mass of uniformed men and women melted between the prodigies in costumes, stepping on the dead and the dying, sometimes accidentally.

The massacre began in the rest of the city, as the sky became wilder, the tide started to roar and the screams became the type of symphony one would hear when entering the gates from Hell.

Gatlon City was starting to look red.

But the red wasn’t coming from the prodigies, but caused by them.

“You two stay with me.” Alec commanded, looking both at Honey and him. “I need you to clear the path.”

“Clear the bridge?!”

“Did I make myself understood, Queen Bee?”

Honey flinched the very moment she heard her own alias, and Leroy watched her as she tried to process everything.

“Clear the bridge.” She repeated. “Yes. Clear the…”

Leroy hoped that didn’t include the bodies.

He guessed it didn’t. Alec, after all, didn’t seem to care about that.

“Clear the bridge. Got it.” Leroy nodded.

“Excellent.”

Alec didn’t stare at them, and he didn’t move either, standing in the middle, with his hands into his pockets, and his face held high, feeling the movements all around him, prepared to get rid of any threat as soon as he spotted it.

Honey and Leroy rarely talked about their tactics before putting them into practice, but, just for once, Leroy wanted to do it.

And, of course, it wasn’t possible, because just as Leroy was preparing to grab her by the wrist and drag her aside, she got herself out of his reach.

“Wait! Wait!” she screamed, not because she was desperate, but because she wanted to be heard above the rest of the din.

Fortunately, in an almost surreal scene to watch, her voice caught Alec’s attention, and his green eyes caught hers, listening.

Leroy stared at Honey, both incredulous and speechless.

“A—” She stuttered. “… Acey.”

Acey.

Fucking Acey.

Leroy arched an eyebrow sharply, but Alec nodded, as if approving the nickname or acknowledging she was talking to him.

“I… “

BANG.

An explosion.

A loud, very loud explosion, followed by the smell of smoke and gunpowder. Maybe, if they were at a lower spot, they would’ve smelled the burnt flesh too.

Good thing they weren’t.

That didn’t make Alec less mad, though, for he unnecessarily adjusted his helmet and straightened his back.

“Acey, wait, I…! “

“Maybe not right now, Queen Bee.” He declared, plain and cold, but solemn.

Somehow, Leroy already knew what she wanted to say, and he also knew she would never say it after today, because he knew her well enough.

And maybe he knew him well enough too.

“Later.” He promised, empty.

Then, just like that, sitting in a cross-legged position, Alec levitated, perhaps to have a better view of the city.

Leroy took Honey by the wrist, this time for real.

Alec made the tank shoot in the opposite direction, and then came another explosion.

Back to back, Honey and him waited for the ones who came and tried to attack. Leroy started feeling his own heartbeat in his ears, and his whole body was vibrating, while Honey’s hasty breaths tormented him, trying to convince himself that they were doing fine, and that they were right.

Because they were.

They were just fighting back.

Leroy saw the scene as if he were out of his body.

The two of them, below Alec, but higher than the city, which was in flames; the body to body fights, with a considerable unbalance of power. The Anarchists were annihilating them with not a drop of mercy, nor remorse. The fights were on top of cars. On top of buildings. Through the streets. Pipes were leaking. The sky was roaring and wailing at the same time. Bullets were flying. Cables were hanging. Trees were moving as if made of paper.

Leroy could still feel Honey’s back against his’, and they only separated when they had to meet the officials who were coming into the bridge, before sending them to the top of pile of bodies.

A man came in, and he was a little taller than Leroy, with his head shaved and a bulletproof jacket. He wasn’t holding a gun, but a metallic tube instead. In posture and enraged expression, Leroy could tell he wasn’t a cop. Maybe a veteran, or some dumb fuck who enjoyed hunting season.

First, Leroy got rid of the tube, melting it with his hand, and next thing he knew, he was attacking him, trying to put his whole body weight on him. Leroy resisted and grabbed him first by the wrist and then by the cheeks, which made him wail in pain. Leroy pressed his palms harder against his skin, and it was only then that a swarm of both bees and wasps came in and started devouring the man’s face, gathering together into the burnt cheeks and wrists.

Honey grabbed Leroy by the arm and tried to pull him up, grunting and gasping, until Leroy was lucid enough to help her and got up himself.

At that very moment somebody kicked her back and made her trip forward. Fortunately, Leroy was able to catch her, but his blood started to boil, and, then, he just knew he had gone in a blind assault of rage.

Out of a sudden, he didn’t feel like himself. He could feel his pores dripping, and the acid was so strong he felt his whole body itching; getting into a fight position, he asked Honey to get behind him with a hand motion, which she obeyed, though also in defense mode.

It was a female official this time. Light brown hair tied in a small ponytail and muscular body. Leroy waved his hand, and that was enough to send the acid flying towards her, straight into her eyes and different spots of her skin.

She screamed in pain.

Honey was already fighting another man, but still, Leroy felt the bees surrounding him too, and there was a very specific group that stayed even when Honey moved towards another position, and they buzzed loudly all around him, notifying him when somebody was coming.

“They’re like an alarm.” He recalled Honey saying once, standing in the middle of the kitchen, taking the groceries out of the bags. She was covered in bees, as if they were children asking their mother what she had gotten for then. “They usually see the enemy before I do, so they buzz in their direction. From the outside it looks like I have outstanding reflexes but… Baby, you’re too close to my lashes and it’s giving me the heebie-jeebies, would you mind? Thank you.” A bumblebee flew away from Honey’s eye, to stand above her brow instead.

“What was I saying?” She tapped her chin, making the bees go away for a second. “Ah. Yes. I do have good reflexes, but yeah, it’s usually thanks to them, as well.”

Leroy remained leaned against the door frame, with his arms crossed over his chest.

“So.” She pointed at the counter, now full of groceries. “You’re gonna help me or what?”

Leroy wasn’t scared of bees. He had never been. Not particularly. But when he met Honey, he became immune to them and decided he would never be, either. Sometimes, when he was alone in the apartment and saw a swarm by the door, waiting for Honey to come back, he would even try to talk to them, which was useless and, judging for how they always stung him, they didn’t like it.

Maybe the bees didn’t like him whatsoever, but right here, in the bridge, they were pretending they did, because Honey had asked them to do so.

And yes. Hard as it was for him to admit it, they were useful.

Very useful.

On the other hand, it also made him feel dumb, because he didn’t know how desperate you had to be for your powers to respond to you through another prodigy.

Leroy was stabbed during one of the (very violent) riots. It wasn’t by a cop, but by a regular, non-prodigy civilian instead. It was a deep cut, and Alec got so mad he ordered to kill as many as they had to until they found the one who had done it. While Hell was breaking loose, Honey dragged him like a human crutch towards the park, hiding him behind the bushes.

“Don’t fall asleep or move unless you really need to, and don’t try to cauterize yourself because that shit hurts and you might pass out. Wait for Rina. I’ll send her to you.”  Rina was a healing prodigy, and by the time Honey was saying that, she had already been killed, so they ended up sending Gwen instead. “You understand? Now it’s not the time to be the stubborn piece of shit you usually are. That’s not how we’re rolling. You understand?”

Leroy understood, but he didn’t answer. Not directly. Instead, he reached for the small blade he always carried in his pocket and, before he handed it to Honey, he tried to release his power in it.

She stared before grabbing it.

“Don’t let go, Leroy.” She asked, whispering, as she placed the blade in her own pocket. “For all you care, don’t let go.”

And when Honey’s skin touched it without her screaming in pain, he thought maybe it hadn’t worked at all, but a few days later, when Alec came to the apartment and tried to remove it from the dining table (because David was there too and he liked to touch everything), it hurt his palm.

The blade had become poisoned, and it burned everyone except for Honey and himself.

She still had it to this day, and right there, fighting in the bridge, he witnessed the exact moment when she took it out, while he stood behind her, with her bees, that she had lent him.

The sudden war seemed to have gone on forever when Leroy felt the breeze at his feet, produced by Alec’s body cutting through the air. He looked like a ghost. A very tangible and imposing ghost, who stood like a stone looking at the destruction he had caused himself, with his arms behind his back and his eyes closed.

Honey and Leroy came to his encounter, with the “Now what?” floating above their heads, like that time Honey and him had harmonized to Rivers of Babylon.

With sweat rolling down his face through the helmet and mask, Alec smiled sideways, and held his hand towards them, with his eyes showing a mild fuchsia tonality. None of the two, needless to say, knew how to react to that at first, but Honey believed him enough to try, and she wrapped her hand around his’, like a shell protecting a pearl.

And Leroy believed Honey enough to try, and wrapped his hand around hers’, like he was the sand or the water protecting the shell that protected the pearl.

And there they were.

The three of them.

Like the day Leroy met them for the first time. Like the days they travelled together, hiding from the police or not. Like all the days Alec forced them to go to Mass. Like the days they had to sleep under poor conditions, in motels or abandoned buildings, and Alec and him woke up with back pain because Honey always had to have the most comfortable place they managed to get. Like the days one of them was so injured they didn’t know he or she would wake up the next morning, and so they started praying they would.

Repressed memories started coming back, and Leroy managed to dodge every single one of them, although a part of him didn’t want to.

Then Alec stared at them. They were very close together, with their foreheads touching, while the three interlocked hands remained in the middle.

“Courage comes from the same place as fear.” Alec reminded them.

“And the day we decide to burn, they will all come with us. “ Ace Anarchy said.

And then, he lifted.

Honey was the last one to let go of him.

Next, he was gone.

Ace Anarchy stood above it all, like the burning sun, with both his arms extended to his sides, towards the emptiness, and, at the same time, towards the everything.

Leroy took Honey by the arms, putting her aside, as they stared. Maybe in awe. Maybe in fear.

Ace Anarchy looked up at the sky, then at the front again.

All the guns were pointing at him. All the lives were hanging by the thread he was using to sew his way in, and also his way out.

The Earth trembled in fear, and then it shook in pain.

Honey screeched, shoving her nails into Leroy’s arm to recover her balance, though Leroy was also on the verge of falling.

They tried to hold the other up. To force each other to remain standing.

Gatlon City left the ground, light as a feather. The buildings fell, the bridge started to crack, the sea escaped from the place it belonged to, people screamed, screamed, screamed.

Everything was in flames.

The light became brighter.

The wails became louder.

Time became slower.

Time became torture.

Time became endless.

And Gatlon City remained suspended into the air, shattering into little pieces, leaving a trace of blood and flesh.

Then, just like that, it fell.

Gatlon City fell, like a sinking boat.

Like it was nothing.

Like it was made of paper.

And it fell.

And, just like Ace Anarchy prophesied, they all fell with it. And with him.