#i’m not really addressing this to a wide audience i’m just venting

[galarian-weezing-on-prep]

so many dudes base their self-worth around their utilitarian function and will not examine that

speaking as a blue collar bitch who was raised rural and still mostly pals around with farmers and tradesmen, that’s like our whole sense of identity. what is harry for? harry is for plowing the fields and fixing the tractors. he bonds with his buddies over a beer chatting about whether john deere is still the best going. he does his function, and if he performs it well, he earns community. if he doesn’t, he understands that other men won’t appreciate him, women won’t desire him, and his kids won’t love him

the average man is not urban, not well educated, and is never going to therapy. he lives an insular and fairly simple life. this is a hard pill for people who are terminally academic to swallow

you wanna fix these guys? encourage them to join clubs that also serve a community purpose. get them to enquire with the freemasons (I say with legitimate seriousness), get them to go back to church or whatever the faith institution of their background is (needing leftists to put aside fears that doing so will make them drift further right— focus on triage here), encourage them to volunteer with meals on wheels, join their local legion, or a service organization like the lions club or the optimists, like there are several many options here

men are raised to feel like we’re worthless until someone needs us, and that’s just how it is. you can spend time trying to fix society and overthrow oppressive structures of systemic injustice, but in the meantime the majority of men are not paying attention to that and they wouldn’t feel smart enough to engage with it even if they did. again i’m talking about like the average man here, not well-educated higher-class metropolitan men. they’re a whole other problem, and there are already hour long youtube essays on how to fix them lol

the “male loneliness epidemic” is funny as a concept until it has real impact on the rise of fascism, and i’m afraid that boys will just keep being born lol. rage against men is warranted and should be expressed, and i am not suggesting anyone needs to be nice to dudes in order to get us acting right. what i’m saying is that most men are never going to have time to critically examine why they think and behave as they do— they just need to feel needed. funnel them into a social club which aids their community

[applesandbannas747]

same anon as before but thank u for the interesting response! and i’m sorry in advance for this long venting lol, but honestly i’m just really frustrated because i think fence could be as popular and mainstream as projects like check please or heartstopper if 1) there was good marketing for it, 2) if the releasing of the issues wasn’t so puzzling, and 3) if the storyline was progressing in a natural way.

rise makes no sense in context of the novels at all and im just? if they were going to have tie-in novels they should have been used to progress character and relationship development, not create an alternate world that’s never going to be addressed. even putting aside gross mischaracterization the novels literally cannot be canon so they’re just published for? no good reason i can see? they could have prequels (seiji and jesse or harvard and aiden pre-series) or been about the team bonding/getting better at fencing, or focused on side characters that won’t get as much focus in the comics (eugene! if he’s mostly being side-lined in the comics the novels could have been his time to shine instead of him being even more sidelined. or even bobby and dante or kally and tanner). there’s definitely a lot of characters in the comics and if it was getting overwhelming the novels could have picked up that slack but they didn’t so their purpose mystifies me — there was also clearly no reason to have nicholas and seiji as pov characters in those books because srb (and i do adore all srb’s other work so this is hard for me to say) was terrible at writing them. when she was good she was good (which makes me think if there had been more editing the novels could have been better) but when she was bad she was very very bad. since she was even worse at writing eugene i guess i should be glad eugene didn’t have a pov. but seriously if the novels were mainly just haiden it could have just been haiden pov.

idk i just used to love fence so much and always noticed there was never a huge following for it, which is okay because the small fence fandom is great!! but i’ve always thought it could have had a bigger audience. there is so much promise in the first issues of fence — kings row competing against exton, the revelation of the truth about nicholas, the reactions and results from that, character development for all the main characters, relationship development for nichoji & haiden, the team actually Becoming a team & the idea of seiji nicholas and eugene being the fencing team after aiden and harvard graduate. but i feel like we’re never going to see any of that. page time is spent on things that aren’t as important instead, and then it takes ages for the next issue/volume and like you said it doesn’t feel coherent or connected to the other issues anymore. it confuses me that all the edges in fence r being sanded down and that the interesting promises in it are constantly being put off.

i’m sorry for talking about this sm i have not been successful in getting anyone into fence irl 😭 i hadn’t read rise or the novels until this month and i reread vol 1-4 before i read the new stuff and it made me very nostalgic

Hi again! lmfao dude no need to ever apologize to me for vents about Fence because I am forever pontificating about it. I agree that Fence has (or, rather, had) the potential to be really popular to a wide audience and I think you hit the nail on the head. And so much of it is just such easy fixes--like putting any effort into marketing lol or when releasing the compiled issues as volumes, giving them all distinct covers and names would have been SO helpful. Reusing the issue covers for the volumes was a mistake (and again, that's something marketing should have been all over!!). and the storyline. oh man. yeah. that ship has sailed and I've had mental breakdowns about it--but if we'd stayed true to the original concept of Fence and BOOM and Pacat put more effort into reaching a wider audience, it could have been big. Another consideration here, of course, is the content-to-hiatus ratio, which loses a ton of fans, but I maintain that if BOOM had their shit together, they could have fixed that problem too! and it's so frustrating

GOD RIGHT??? The novels came in, ruined Fence, and then aren't even actually canon because they don't actually fit in the universe??? My theory is that since Pacat is a SRB superfan, he kind of let her go overboard and realized after the novels were published and he had to move his story forward post-Disarmed that he'd fucked up giving so much freedom to her. Because they called it canon--and he still says it's '80% canon' but it couldn't have happened. So the point of the novels was basically for Pacat to read fanfiction from his favorite author of his OCs--it did nothing positive for the story, the characters, the franchise, or the fans. and LITERALLY!!! I've always thought doing a prequel for the tie-ins made more sense. Like following the fencing team with Harvard, Aiden, Kally, and Tanner would have been so fun, or focusing on Kally and Tanner or Bobby and Dante would have been fun and would have left room for actual plot progression!! It was pure selfishness on the authors' part to do the novels how they did them. And if Pacat would father fangirl over SRB than write a meaningful story, that's his right, but it still bugs me that there was clearly no thought given to the consequences of the novels. So instead of dealing with them, we ignore them and pretend that they're still '80% canon' to make ourselves feel better for our oopsie. hahaaa I have nothing nice to say about SRB or her writing. I don't think she got anything right in Fence--except for hinting Eugesse, which you know she only did because she knew it was popular in the fandom and she wanted the hype and baited us with it lmfao But! I've always had issues with her even before she touched Fence--her blatant sexism in In Other Lands was disturbing to me when I read it (shaming and looking down on feminine traits isn't Woke or Revolutionary just because you assigned those traits to men in your "badass feminist society" and had all the women be grossly sexist and predatory) so it's not just me being an asshole because she ruined my favorite thing in the world <3 But I know she's very beloved among her fans and I'm sorry that she failed you in Fence when you love her other works so much. If there was one mercy from the novels, it was the lack of a Eugene POV even if it further proves he's not really part of the team/a main character...unfortunately that's a fair trade jkdfah

I always thought Fence deserved a bigger following than it ever got--and maybe having a bigger fanbase and more money being thrown at it would have helped BOOM commit to buying enough ahead to let Pacat and Jo actually work on it consistently and put out content more regularly. It really was setting itself up to be so fun and full of tropes the gays LOVE. i mean, sports 'manga' that's actually queer? All the fun tropes with rivals and 'becoming a team'? The classic character archetypes used smartly and effectively? I genuinely think it would have appealed to all the people who love Check Please and Heartstopper and Yuri on Ice. And it still does, I guess, but I feel like if Fence gets popular now, I'd be a bit sad to see all that love centered around a version of Fence I don't like (but that is pure selfishness lmfao I fully admit it). I just so love/d all the edges and conflicts in Fence and it's sad to see them sanded down in canon and resolved of screen.

LMFAO my dude I am sorry for rambling so much at you twice in a row now! Anyway, I'm always here to talk Fence uwu even though i can be harsh and unpleasant about things i don't like jskdfha

[rpbetter]

Hey there, check out this pinned post first!

Thanks for visiting Roleplay Better, where I believe that you can fucking do better! That kind of language, however, is why it is important for you to read this post before proceeding.

This blog and its posts are meant for an adult RPing audience; be over legal, adult age in the USA, 18+. Do not interact by submitting, asking, reblogging, commenting, or liking unless you are over eighteen years of age. By interacting with RPB or me, Vespertine, you are assumed to be following this rule. If you are breaking this rule, you will be blocked.

I have that rule because this blog can/will/does address topics inappropriate for a younger audience. Those can include, but are not limited to:

not safe for work - violence, injury, sexual language, smut, substance use

“dark topics” and themes like violence, unhealthy relationships, mental illness, trauma, graphic injury, dubious consent, substance use, and so forth addressed realistically

foul, sexual, and otherwise “Adult” language

 unpopular opinions and approaches about writing, RP, fandoms

“negativity” since literally anything can be, and my whole point here isn’t about holding back; it is likely that, at some point, in some post or another, a shoe will fit you-you need to be mature enough to handle that without taking it as a personal attack on you

images and links that may contain things inappropriate for a younger audience

this blog is founded upon the idea that fiction has reflections in reality, but that fiction does not utterly equate to reality. You should write with realism, your characters should be people in their own right, and you should absolutely be addressing many popular topics responsibly, which is to say realistically. I do not support or otherwise condone purity culture, so while realism is a big deal here, fiction = reality arguments are a no

seriously, you have no idea how fucking salty I am! I try to be fair, reasonable, and mellow with everyone, but it can and does come out.

This blog tags for common, major triggers, but it is not for those easily triggered or particularly sensitive. By proceeding, you take responsibility for yourself...like a mature adult. I expect you to utilize blacklist, unfollow, and block. Tag format is simple, it is literally just the word in most cases, with “cw” and “tw” added to particularly common things. Example, a post containing a breakdown of forms of dubcon will be tagged #dubcon #dubious consent. If that was specifically of a sexual nature, since tumblr is unfriendly to using Not Safe For Work now, I will be using #notsafe for sexual topics. In the event that this needs to change, it will be posted about, the previous tag left intact, so that you may update your blacklist.

You are always welcome to send me an ask or private message requesting a particular trigger be tagged for you. I try to check blogs I see following, especially if I follow back, so that I can tag what you require. However, I’m a person, I’m an ND, ill, busy person though, I do make mistakes!

If you find yourself desirous of telling me to tag in a hateful way, don’t. You will not be responded to with an apology and kindness. Do not be rude, it’s uncalled for when informing someone of a problem or making a request.

I will run the blog largely on a queue, and will not be following many people back. This is not personal! I just like to try to provide content at many different times, have a life elsewhere, and I am so happy that you love your fandom, but it might not be something I’ve enough interest in to have on my dash.

Don’t tumblr message me. Use the inbox or submit.

Due to recent events, I am changing this rule. It’s hard for me to receive messages unexpectedly, and I hate to imply that I’ll be able to get to these quicker because it isn’t the truth. Quicker, better responses come from the inbox. However, there have been too many incidents lately in which people needed to speak privately and had to make that a request. If you’re having a problem and need to vent, request sensitive advice, etc.? It’s alright, go ahead and drop me a PM, y’all. I’ll get back to you as soon as I am able. Please, do not be angry with me if I respond to inbox things or my queue is running! You’re important to me, I just might not have the requisite social cognition and energy you deserve at that time.

Aggressive inbox messages will be responded to in kind. I don’t care if you are on anon or not, if you haven’t an ounce of polite communication skills, I won’t have them either. This is not a “we don’t publish anon hate” blog.

I highly encourage asks and submissions on any and all RP topics, and it’s perfectly alright to be salty as fuck in them, you can totally vent here, but don’t take out your frustration on me or be demanding of me. I am always happy to help with information, advice, or just a response to your venting-it’s important to know someone is listening. However, it may take me a few days to a week to get to you, be patient. 

If you are going to vent, leave out usernames. This isn’t a callout or burnbook blog. It’s fine to state characters and fandoms, but if this becomes a problem, it’ll have to change. I don’t want this becoming a salt blog for one or two fandoms I very likely can’t even stand. Practice the fine art of alluding to things, its good experience for your writing! Besides, RPC problems are RPC problems, I promise. It might feel like it’s just your fandom, but there is something relatable in all corners.

I will not overly police comments. Keep the slurs and shit out of it, though. If there is an issue going on pertaining to a serious instance of hate speech, or behavior I, personally, deem as too inappropriate and/or immature to be taking place on my post, I will step in. Otherwise, I expect everyone to be adults in the comments and reblogs too. If you want to argue with each other, that’s your business. If you want to argue with me, I’m not sorry in advance.

Addition to the above: this is not a blog in which it will be tolerated that commentators or those submitting with the URLS are targeted for callouts, shaming, or other instances of bullying. No, I cannot make those people stop bothering you by blocking them, but the least I can do is address that by shutting down their access to this blog and it’s posts by blocking on the URLs I have for them. And I will. Fuck that “we can’t be responsible for” shit. It’s my blog, it’s my content I’m putting out there, I’m not going to just ignore shit like what went down over on COAR, thanks. Not. Cool.

This is definitely not a place for:

people who think giving muses labels, including top/bottom “dynamics,” is a good substitute for character traits, personality, and development

those with no reading comprehension skills

folks dependent upon aesthetics and aesthetics-based purple prose as filler for actual writing

anti-original character/just wants to fuck a FC or canon character club, get the fuck out immediately

y’all who see writing as an obstacle to getting down to action, be that smut, drama, or fight scenes...it’s literally a writing hobby

politics, any manner of phobe or ism, violent/non-inclusive feminists, purity/rpc/fandom/content police of any manner, and exactly any manner of racism, sexism, or religious intolerance - I give not a shit if it’s popular to hate the straights, for example, I neither believe in nor tolerate reactionary classifying of any group as blanket-statement evil

people who are going to tack onto my posts shit like, “it’s okay, OP, you can say x character.” Trust me, if I were talking about one character, I fucking would name drop them, don’t bring me into your fandom drama, I doubt I know or want to know who that anime guy is who looks like 12 other anime guys to me.

About Vespertine

You can call me that, Vespertine. I’d rather you didn’t go with Vesper, but as it is unfortunately so likely to happen, I won’t feed you to the dogs over it either. RPB Mun is also acceptable.

I’m alright with either she/her or he/him, they/them is also fine. Apparently, that was big enough clue-in for the poor reading comp crowd, so while I feel it is not of importance, I’m nonbinary, yes.

Late 30′s, chronically ill but still working adult with neurodivergence. I’m both busy and Busy, and always sick. This limits my brain power and ability to be here. I have an active RP blog that I won’t be sharing to keep responsible distance. That is always going to be my priority, it is my primary hobby.

Please, don’t tumblr message me totally random things if we don’t have that kind of relationship! I’m too ill and busy, and it really fucks my nerves to have a bunch of messages/have to suddenly interact socially with people. Don’t do it. Use my inbox, use the submit, comment on posts. I cannot do random messages of “hey” and so forth.

I only do written RP, don’t expect me to understand much of anything from tabletop. I’ve RPed for the last 23 years consistently, on every platform from AOL chats to forums to messengers and here. I also don’t do RP in discord, so I’m sorry, but I can’t advise you much on anything with a word count, except to stop it for serious RP. Other than that, I promise you that I’ve seen the trends, the drama, the fandoms. I can give a lot of advice and perspective on a wide range of topics, situations, and characters! When I don’t have a clue at all, I’ll try to do enough research to give you an answer.

Do I come off as a horrible, strict asshole? I do! I’m not going to say that I am just a shy bean who is more scared of you than you are me. I’m not. I’m honestly feral, but have common decency, compassion, and sense. All of which are lacking in the general RPC. So, if you can inbox/common/otherwise interact with anyone else on this site, you can totally handle me!

Honesty and openness are policies.

And in the spirit of that, I repeat; you can fucking do better, tumblr RPC!

[makimakikun]

Maki Katsuragi: The Autism Theory

Maki Katsuragi could be on the autism spectrum. Here’s why! TW: Abuse mentions/references, mental disorders/disabilities in-depth, child abuse, psychological aspects, and childhood conditioning. 

I think the common conception of mentally ill/disabled people not being confident in nature or never being able to fit into a setting isn’t entirely accurate for everyone or a good way to sum up such a wide variety of people. 

Let’s go into maki’s personality. His most noticeable quality: he’s confident. He’s confident enough to shape the environment he enters if he wishes. He’s confident enough to make people bend or even change their entire perspective on things. 

Did you notice everyone had false misconceptions about him? Everyone was surprised when he said certain things, like they weren’t expected of someone “with his personality”. For example, what he told Itsuki after he hit the boy with the racket, what he said when Tsubasa held the racket, what he told Yuu after confronting them, what he said to Touma after the matches, etc.  There are so many examples of people misconstruing Maki. People thinking he’s not as smart or as considerate as he actually is.

Why? I think it’s because he comes off a certain way. He seems too confident; too formal; too anti-social; too whatever. Everyone has misconceptions of everyone else, but these are things I heavily related to: the ways everyone saw Maki. 

To add personal experiences-- in the environment I was raised in, I had to be confident. I had to learn how to confront opposition with a calm war face. I had to learn how to speak; how to stand; how to stare into people’s eyes despite being uncomfortable with it; how to seem like I did things with little thought to them, despite the fact that I overthought constantly. This made many people think I was an airhead, or just generally not as smart as others.  I’ve had many people be really surprised that I was insecure, that I had issues, that I was smart & analytical. it’s happened to most people I met. These same misconceptions are bred when people see Maki, just because he’s confident and makes talking/moving/doing anything look easy. While we can see he’s smart as the audience, the other characters cannot, and this is important to remember.

Living while mentally disabled in a situation where you have an assigned job (like mediator & provider, which are Maki’s jobs) and huge responsibilities (both household chores/jobs and/or emotional support, which are also Maki’s jobs) is different from living while ill in a situation where your responsibilities are limited (like Touma’s).  There are many reasons why Touma’s issues seem more relatable and noticeable to the audience than Maki’s, and it has to do with the familial and outside dynamics they experienced throughout their life, as well as personality and disorder conflicts.

By personality and disorder conflicts, I mean that Maki and Touma have a lot of differences, both in upbringing, personality, and in the disorders I believe they have. Maki contrasts from Touma’s Autistic relatability most likely because he seems to have both ADHD and Autism, in my opinion. It’s a combination that can leave you a lot more jumbled and harder to relate to than just having Autism or ADHD alone, like I headcanon that Touma only has Autism.

Circling back to Maki’s personality. He seems to have a case of Chronic Chillness, outside of his obvious impatience issue, which I think is an indicator of his trueness as a person. In that respect, I mean that his impatience may be an indicator that he’s not as nonchalant as he seems. This is a huge part of my own mentally ill experience, so I felt the need to mention it.  It doesn’t mean I never look anxious or that I’m never anxious; It’s that no one sees it or suspects it. Sometimes I even convince myself. I have lax shoulders, I make lazed movements, I speak confidently & a lot of the time with slang or curses. Maki exhibits these qualities as well, aside from the cursing. However, I become starchly formal with people I don’t plan on befriending or becoming close with - esp in a professional setting (I.E. how Maki acted with the teacher and meeting the team, as I’ve concluded his original belief was that he wouldn’t attempt to attach himself to the team emotionally at first) - and I add formality to most newer people unless it’s a casual setting and I want them to feel comfortable/welcome. 

I create environments where either respect is expected or people feel obligated to bend in their hatred, whether it be out of insecurity, fear, or genuine appreciation. Maki does speak confidently and calmly, and he does all that I listed, in my opinion.  Let’s talk about the symptoms and symptom portrayals.  ♡ First up on the list: Intensive focusing/ Hyperfocusing/Interest in specific topics alone, with a habit of losing interest or not showing interest in other things. This is one of the most talked-about symptoms in processing and learning disorders from my experience.  One could say Maki is the definition of this symptom. He shows little interest in school, clubs, or any other subject besides astronomy. Specifically, as of most episodes, his book given to him by Ryouma, which he seems to continuously read despite it being a small book. We can assume he may be reading it over and over again.  The only club he now focuses on is soft tennis. That began from a place of obligation, not genuine interest. He seemed to have felt morally obligated to join after receiving a promise to money and a racket. However, we can assume he’s more emotionally invested in this team now, after rekindling his friendship with Touma and meeting the club members.  His focus on the club is obvious. He allows it to be a part of his daily life, and seems to even spend his off-time putting together schedules for their play, as seen in the episode where Rintarou and Touma speak privately. He also speaks of soft tennis during breaks within the school or dinner at his own apartment, as seen in the episodes where Yuu, Kanako, and Touma visit.  ♡ Moving on to the second symptom. Tics, like repeated motions, phrases, or movements. These movements or phrases can vary in frequency and noticeability. It can be shown subtly or as a common and known action that this person does every day. Maki Katsuragi seems to have a catchphrase - saying “I see.” or “naru-ho-do”, but since this isn’t your typical anime and the characters are portrayed as a lot more realistic than troupes, we can assume this could be a sign of a tic. He also tends to make strange movements while thinking, which is a sign that he’s trying to process what he’s about to say or what he’s thinking of.  This scene, in particular, stood out to me. While thinking, Maki idly swung his hand in circles. This is something I do personally as well. I tend to circle my hands while thinking to either enunciate my words or figure out a way to explain what I’m about to say, as well as try to process things I’ve heard. 

♡ On to the third symptom, which is - in my opinion - a very important one. Trouble showing or expressing certain emotions well or clearly. This can range from ways of speech, to expressions, to body language, and so forth. This can be both subtle or severe, depending on the case. Maki seems to be the type that wears smiles on his sleeve in good situations, but... let me ask you a question. Did anyone see the ending coming? I can’t say that I did, but I can tell you that I don’t think it’s unrealistic for it to happen. What I noticed about Maki is that he’s not the best at showcasing emotions outside the scope of positive or neutral, which is a huge indicator of many things. Two of them are some of the main issues in his life. Physical and mental abuse (from his father), and an overly cheerful and somewhat neglectful parental figure whose nature most likely makes him feel obligated to keep up a facade and not vent his frustrations (like his mother). In truth, many of the scenes where Maki was happy in recent episodes could’ve been motivators for him to pick up the knife. The looming threat of his father never went away, and when you’re in a happy situation, while there’s a threat still lurking, it can leave you to wonder when all these good things will be taken away. His mother possibly being hurt or even kidnapped are huge solidifiers for his resolve. I’ll be addressing this motivation-driven argument further in another post. Moving on now! Maki shows very few expressions. One of his most common being a blank face that looks a touch angry. It doesn’t mean he is angry; I think the intention behind his facial expressions is that he has trouble showing a relaxed neutral expression as well as having what many would call a “resting bitch face”. Most of his expressions range from constant neutral, curious, scared, happy, or the occasional mad. His voice tone is also key here. He often speaks around the same keys. His voice is quiet and calm, with the occasional hint of playfulness. However, it rarely rises or falls drastically, unless in a serious situation. Even then, Maki still doesn’t sound very different from his usual tone.  He also moves very directly and with purpose. It’s rare for him to show hesitation or anxiety, which may be a product of Autism, ADHD, and/or living with his father, where any sign of fear, sadness, or anger could cost him. ♡  Here’s a fourth symptom. Not remembering information, especially information not regarding hyperfixations or general interests. This is common in many illnesses but is hugely prevalent in both Autism and ADHD.  This is shown especially in the scene where he meets Kanako Mitsue for the second time canonly. He didn’t even remember her face, name, or room despite just meeting her yesterday. This is a huge indicator of a memory problem regarding information his brain considers “not important”, as he seems to remember most things about his interests and chores clearly. 

This is getting increasingly long, so I think I may be ending it here! This is a subject I could go on and on for, but I think I made some good and valid points here! It took me a long time to finish this, as my motivation is lacking.  Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed it! 

[xxxrubytuesdayxxx]

If you take Jin and Tae’s comments on board but wait to see where things go...

Word Count: 3,030

Disclaimers: This is part (37) of a Choose Your Own Ending!

Check at the end for glossary of Korean terms*

Start here:

You shelve your concerns until later that night, when the boys come back from a fan event. To make things more problematic, Jeongguk is immediately told to do a V Live broadcast upon his entry, despite his evident state of mild intoxication. Then again it’s just possible management haven’t quite caught on, not knowing that he’s skipped dinner and already polished off a bottle of champagne with Jimin in the taxi home. Two bottles of wine and one very giddy broadcast later, Namjoon drags the maknae into the kitchen for an impromptu briefing session on appropriate V Live content, jerking his head at you to indicate that you should join them. When you reluctantly slip into the room, Namjoon is glaring at a very intoxicated Jeongguk:

“If. You. Ever. Pull. Something. Like that. Again,” he threatens him, emphasising his first few words with vigorous shakes of the younger boys’ shoulders and then resorting to an admonitory finger. You hush Namjoon and wave him back as Jeongguk is looking a little queasy.

“Leave him alone Namjoon,” you hiss.

“No! You’re not protecting him this time,” Namjoon insists, rolling his eyes impatiently. You give him a warning look, slipping your arm under Jeongguk’s shoulders to support him as he sways on his feet. Jeongguk gives you a sweetly grateful look and leans heavily into you, making you look around for a suitable surface to guide him towards. Namjoon watches you both with a growing degree of exasperation.

“Do you even know what your little angel did? I mean are you even going to give me the benefit of the doubt here?!” Namjoon demands. “We can’t even broadcast that in good faith. And now I have to try and convince Yoongi to do one instead.”

Mai taps on the kitchen door and pushes it open slightly, sticking her head through the small crack. “Bad time?”

“A little,” Namjoon answers through gritted teeth.

Her eyes narrow at his response, but she opens the door fully and steps in with two empty coffee mugs in her hand. She wordlessly walks towards the sink and rinses them as Namjoon grows more irate.

“We’re kind of in the middle of something,” Namjoon says to her.

“Mhm,” she replies, back to the room.

You try to get Jeongguk out of the kitchen, but Namjoon snaps at you, “I wasn’t done. The carelessness that went into that broadcast…we have a young audience; we have a company breathing down our necks. We’re going to get in trouble whether that gets broadcasted or not. And do you know how much effort it takes to get Yoongi-hyung to do one?”

“Get him to do what?” Mai asks, turning around. She leans against the kitchen counter and looks at him curiously.

“A V Live,” he replies.

“I can ask him, if you want,” she shrugs.

“See? Problem solved,” you reason.

“No, problem not solved. I’m so tired of you defending him all the time. When it’s wrong, it’s wrong,” Namjoon vents, raising his voice. “He’s not a child.”

“I know he’s not a child,” you retort. “You’re treating him like one.”

“I’m treating him like a child?” he repeats, furious, the vein on his neck threatening to burst.

“Okay, okay,” Mai steps in, “Hold on. Unnie, Joon-oppa’s got somewhat of a point. What Jeongguk did was clearly not cool.”

“Thank you,” Namjoon throws his hands up.

“Kiss-ass,” you mutter.

“What was that?” Mai asks, in a steely voice.

You roll your eyes in response, and attempt to continue your exit with a still-drunk, half-awake Jeongguk in your arms.

“I’m not the one sucking barely-legal dick,” she snarks.

This makes everyone else in the room stop. Even Namjoon. With terrible timing, Jeongguk proceeds to throw up on his own and your shoes.

“Charming,” Namjoon comments. “You literally have no control over that boy. Don’t pretend you do.”

“Neither do you, evidently,” you reply, sharply. “So much for a leader.”

“It’s hard to do any leading when he’s constantly being undermined,” Mai interjects, rolling her eyes.

“You’re one to talk,” you snap at her. “You and Yoongi are either chronically depressed or shagging like rabbits. How are the moodswings treating you?”

“Jagi, where’s my-” Yoongi walks in and stops with a halt, noticing the vomit, the tense air, and three pairs of eyes turning sharply towards him. “Whoa.”

“Want to go out for coffee?” she asks him sweetly. Yoongi nods with uncertainty, but doesn’t audibly question it. She steps past you and over the mess on the floor and hooks her arm in his. “Also, would you do a V Live later, jagi?”

“Uh, sure,” he answers. She sends you a smug look before leaving the room, effectively flipping the switch and pretending nothing has happened.

“Argh!” you groan. “Look I’m sorry Namjoon. I didn’t mean that. You’re a great leader, really. And I know I’m super-protective of him but I was even before…” You trail off, not wanting to address that stuff right now. You change tack: “I mean I’ve always been overprotective of him with you cos he looks up to you so much. I just don’t like to see you mad with him,” you mumble. He sighs and puts his hand to his forehead.

“I know, I know. I’m sorry too,” Namjoon mumbles. “Can you just put him to bed please? I’ll talk to him when he’s sobered up.” You exhale deeply and do as you’re asked, somehow managing to clean Jeongguk, yourself and the kitchen floor up before coaxing your little sinner into his bedroom. When he sleepily pulls you into his bed with a petulant whine about ‘not feeling well,’ you decide to take Namjoon’s request as tacit allowance for you to spend the night there. Besides you want to make sure Jeongguk sleeps on his side if he’s still drunk. You climb over behind him, wrap him in your arms and wait for his breathing and heartbeat to slow to sleeping level.

He wakes you up climbing out of bed to go to the bathroom, then takes a long draught from the glass of water you left by his bed, hops back in and pulls you against him, still shivering from the sudden cold outside the covers. You’re guessing the alcohol has worn off if he’s cold, though his sheets are still a little sticky with his alcohol-sweat from last night.

“Joeun achim,” he greets you kittenishly, kissing you softly.

“Morning babe,” you return his greeting. “How you feeling?”

“Honestly? I think I drank a bit too much last night,” he groans. “I know I made a mess of that V Live. But I was just trying to be...well...you know...It’s just that Jimin said I’m more eloquent when I’ve been drinking.” He mulls it over in his head, trying to recall the details of the previous evening.

“Was Joon-hyung mad at me?” he asks, looking a little sad.

“Maybe a little,” you allow, trying to keep a neutral expression on your face. “Maybe go talk to him about it and explain. He’ll understand,” you reassure him.

“How did you get in my room without anyone seeing?” he continues his investigation. You shrug.

“They probably know, to be honest. We weren’t exactly discreet. And I had to put you to bed last night anyway, so I figured I’d stay and look out for you in case you needed to be sick. Make sure you slept on your side and all that,” you elaborate.

“Ah,” he nods solemnly. “Kamsahamnida, Noona.”

“Why so formal, cheonsa?” you ask him, surprised. He smiles shyly, pulling the sheets higher so he can hide his face under them, up to his eyes. You laugh gently.

“No, seriously. What is it, Jeongguk-ah?” you cajole him.

“How do you feel about me?” he ventures. You must look shocked or confused as he immediately follows this query up with “I mean...do you want to date me?”

“Um. Erm...I don’t know,” you stammer, completely taken aback. He looks upset but it’s hard to tell whether he’s upset at your hesitation, or upset at the prospect of dating when he was only in it for the sex. He looks down and pulls at a loose thread on his sheet, waiting. You’re still trying to figure out what answer he’s looking for, but he’s blushing, so you hazard a guess: “I would like to, yes. But I’m happy to just have fun if that’s what you’re looking for.” His eyes light up at your first admission, so you figure you guessed right.

A couple of months later you’re all at a club to celebrate Jeongguk’s birthday. Everyone has managed to apologise, amend their behaviour and move on from the arguments and Mai is only good-naturedly ribbing you about Jeongguk’s age tonight because you’ve let her in on his birthday present:

“Guess,” you prompt her.

“No idea. A giant keiku that you’re going to make us all pop out of?” she tries.

“It’s more…’adult’ than that,” you hint. She smirks, amused.

“Isn’t he a little young for adult entertainment?” she provokes you.

“Ha fucking ha!” You stick your tongue out. “He’s plenty old enough.”

She glances around the room, notes the decor and set-up, and it clicks. “You’re not going to give him a lap-dance,” she snorts. “Seriously?”

“Why not? He’ll love it - I mean - don’t you think?” you ask, anxious.

“Yeah, pretty sure he will, to be fair. But what about the rest of us? Do we really need to see your jailbait boy-toy get himself all hot and bothered?” she teases.

“Who are you calling jailbait, Mai-noona?” Jeongguk demands, slipping into the room and wrapping you in his arms from behind. He cuddles you greedily against his chest. “I’m 22 already,” he defends himself, pouting at you for a kiss, which you quickly deliver, before returning your attention to Mai.

“Wow cos that’s so much older than 20,” Mai scoffs, pursing her lips in mock disapproval as he moves your hair aside and kisses the side of your neck.

“Anyway, it was Namjoon’s idea,” you inform Mai.

“What was?” asks Jeongguk, his eyes wide with curiosity.

“Never mind that,” Mai changes the subject, hurriedly. “Where are the others? 

Jeongguk shrugs: “I think Hobi-hyung’s driving the others over once Namjoon-hyung finishes in the studio,” he elaborates.

“Didn’t you and Yoongi drive here anyway?” you ask. She raises her eyebrows and helps herself to some grapes.

“He had to go get the drinks sorted,” she tells you. “Jin-oppa’s around somewhere as well - sorting dinner out. No surprises there.” Jin wanders in on cue to tell you the food is all ordered, followed by Yoongi who reports that the other boys are just parking. He hands Jeongguk a glass of champagne, which Jin immediately confiscates.

“Andwaeyo, not yet,” he instructs Yoongi. “We have to wait til everyone’s here.” Yoongi and Jeongguk both look a little bewildered at this announcement, so Mai gives Yoongi a whispered update.

“Namjoon?” he guesses, correctly. She nods and rolls her eyes. He looks amused and shoots you a questioning glance.

“Don’t,” you warn him. He grins and sits on one of the rough circle of scattered chairs, drinkless, with his arms crossed. It doesn’t take much longer for the others to arrive and Namjoon pulls you into the tiny ensuite off the main room to check that you’re still going to go through with his plan.

“Yes,” you confirm, “only…”

“What?” he asks, in an undertone.

“Well I know I’ve been practicing for it but I’m nervous,” you admit.

“Of us?” Namjoon asks, his voice rising a little in surprise.

“Well yeah,” you tell him. “When most girls do this their, um, boyfriend…[you pause, still not used to calling Jeongguk that] and his friends aren’t literally dancers.”

Namjoon gives your shoulder a friendly squeeze:

“Don’t worry so much. If it makes you feels any better, a lap dance is less about dancing than it is about...you know...the other stuff.”

“Great. Now I feel really relaxed,” you sum up, sarcastically. But you smile at him to let him know you’re not really annoyed. You realise, despite Namjoon’s own proclivities, that it’s a big deal for him to be letting this whole relationship thing with you and Jeongguk go this far and you don’t want him to think you’re not grateful.

With that out of the way, Namjoon leaves you to change and heads back into the private party room to make sure everyone’s got champagne and nibbles, then sets the menu screens to ‘do not disturb.’ You peek out to make sure they’re all set and discover that, despite all the prior hints that something was going on, Jeongguk looks sweetly confused at the sudden flurry of movements. He watches the others, wide-eyed, until Namjoon grabs his arm and sits him in the chair he’s placed in the centre of the room.

The music starts, and you take a deep breath and make your entrance. You can’t believe you agreed to this bullshit; you did this to yourself , you think. You circle around Jeongguk who looks like his eyes are about to fall out of his head, but you’re pretty sure that’s the shock of the unusual situation and not anything particularly alarming you’re doing. It could conceivably be the lingerie and fuck-me heels, you reason, as his eyes rake you from head to toe. Mai, now visibly uncomfortable, mutters a low, “That’s my cue to leave, then,” and gets up. She steps around the chairs with Yoongi trailing behind her, and leaves the room. “Have fun guys…” Yoongi’s voice calls out softly before the door clicks shut behind them.

You walk behind Jeongguk and run your hands down his chest, slipping one hand inside his silky dress shirt and making him gasp. You come back around in front of him and sit in his lap, straddling his legs. He swallows hard and darts a helpless look in Namjoon’s direction, his fingers twitching in the air. Namjoon smirks: “No touching Jeong-ssi,” he reminds him, in a joking-stern tone.

“I wasn’t!” he objects, defensive.

“You were going to though, weren’t you?” Namjoon correctly surmises. 

Jeongguk blushes and returns his attention to you. You move your hips, letting your breasts press up against him as he resorts to eye-fucking you, not being allowed the alternative right now. He bites his bottom lip coquettishly, but doesn’t break eye contact. You lower one of your feet to the ground and deliberately brush your other leg against his crotch establishing, unsurprisingly, that he’s got one hell of an erection.

His breath hitches in his throat as you return to your former position and pull him towards you by his lapels. You lean into his ear.

“What do you want me to take off first?” you whisper.

“Um...your top?” he suggests tentatively, like it’s an exam. You laugh softly.

“Is that what you want?” you prompt him. He blushes and looks down at your chest, but shakes his head.

“I’m doing this for you, not myself...or anybody else,” you remind him.

“Your skirt,” he requests. “Jebal.” You wink at him and step back to slide your skirt off then climb back into his lap, slipping your arms around his neck and pulling your hips sharply against his. He closes his eyes and throws his head back. You nuzzle into his exposed throat with kisses and he flinches, clearly using all his self-control not to grab you. Jin coughs in panic.

“I have to go...check on that food,” he mutters, excusing himself and practically running out the door.

“Shirt’s coming off next,” Namjoon catcalls, teasing you and Jeongguk.

“Leave it Joon-hyung,” Tae mumbles, embarrassed. Jimin giggles nervously. Hobi just looks wryly amused. You shake your head at Namjoon, amused, then return your attention to Jeongguk, stand and deliberately unbutton and remove your shirt so that you’re only in your lingerie and heels. He gives you one of his pretty, doe-eyed looks, lips parted and eyes wide and you falter at his faux-chaste angelic beauty. Of course this illusion of chastity evaporates the second you land back in his lap to finish the dance. The shift behind his eyes is palpable.

“Okay! I think we’re done here,” Namjoon announces, with a brief clap of his hands. “Time for the party. Noona? Do you want to get changed? I’ll go round the others up and let them know it’s safe. Tae, Hoseok and Jimin head for the refreshments, looking relieved. Jeongguk, on the other hand, isn’t about to take this lying down. He follows you into the tiny bathroom, to looks of consternation from the other three.

“Don’t be naughty Kookie. You know the others are all on their way back and the food’s coming,” you warn him. He ignores you, hands already at his belt.

“Isn’t it Shakespeare who said that one about ‘wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?’,” he provokes you. Honestly…

“Fine,” you give in. “But quick Jeongguk-ah. Like really quick!” He shrugs with a wicked smirk, grabs you and pulls you into a deep kiss. You lean down to slip your knickers off, without breaking the kiss. He finishes with his own pants, then lifts you up by the waist so you can hop up and wrap your legs around his waist. You’ve just balanced yourself properly when he readjusts his position and literally slams you against the flimsy connecting wall.

“Jesus Christ, Jeongguk,” you startle. “They’re going to know exactly what we’re mmph mmm oh God!” You give up all pretence at objecting and let him fuck you until you both finish. Your legs are too wobbly to stand when he releases you, so you sit down and pull your discarded clothes on, shaking your head at his sass. He applies a fresh coat of lip gloss, pouts provocatively at you and heads back into the main room to a chorus of offended protests from poor Jimin, Hobi and Tae. By the time you follow him back out Namjoon has returned. Tae updates him, he clips Jeongguk over the ear and you all let Jin begin the more tasteful chapter of the celebrations in peace.

THE END

Glossary: (feel free to submit corrections for these ^.^)

Cheonsa (천사) = Angel

[deathbymeow]

For You, I’d Die. Chapter: 2. No Questions Asked

It had been a week and it still hurt. It made it even harder knowing Luka was still in the same city. Marinette had resisted going back to visit him. He’d managed to avoid the media questions about why his long-term girlfriend was missing from his side by simply answering “She has work commitments”. She couldn’t be that for him anymore, but she understood that he wasn’t ready to address it. And even if he was, he didn’t owe the press anything.

Ladybug sat in the rafters, out of view of the screaming fans below. Luka was on the stage looking extremely hot with his tight jeans and black sleeveless t-shirt, showing off his tattooed arms. The t-shirt was almost completely open at the sides and when he moved his muscular rib cage showed behind his guitar. Around his neck he still wore the chain and dog tags she’d given him for their first anniversary. One was engraved with a four-leaf clover and the other with their initials and the date of their first kiss. His eyes were closed, and the blue tips of his hair caught the light as he sang into the microphone.

If he didn’t want the media to know about their breakup, he wasn’t doing a very good job of it as he sung a new song called Someone you loved.

He’d told the bands adoring fans that it was a teaser of new thing to come. Instead of their normal upbeat metal core it was edgier and darker than most of their songs.

“And now the day bleeds into night fall and you’re not here to get me through it all. I let my guard down and then you pulled the rug, I was getting kinda use to being someone you loved.”

Each word he sung felt like it was tearing at her heart. She could hear the pain in his voice, and she knew he was still hurting. Music had always been his way to express his feelings and this was clearly about their breakup.

“Don’t get me wrong bugaboo, he’s good but this is kinda depressing.”

Ladybug squealed and nearly fell of her perch. “Chat, what the hell.” She hissed at him, smacking his leather clad arm.

“I thought I’d see what all the fuss was about.” He winked then flashed her one of his wicked grins before noticing the tears she was trying to wipe away.

“Hey little Bug, are you Ok?” He reached out to rub her back in the way he knew she liked.

“Umm… It’s nothing I’m… I’m… it was the flashing lights.”  She lied turning her head away from her concerned partner.

Chat shifted closer and wrapped his arm around Ladybug. Over the years he’d learnt the difference between when she just needed someone to lean on or when she needed to vent.

“Boy troubles?”

“Mm hmm.” She mumbled into his shoulder while trying to contain the sobs that were threatening to come.

“Do I need to beat someone up?” He asked, resting his chin on her head.

She shook her head, her twin tails tickled his nose. The song was over, and the band was thanking the screaming audience.

“What kinda name is Four-sided tragedy for a band anyway?” Chat asked scratching his messy blonde hair. “Wanna get out of here mi ‘lady? It’s a beautiful night out there, still not as beautiful as you of course.”  He stood and offered her his hand with a soft smile.

“Thanks Chaton. I could do with the distraction.” Finally pulling it together, she took his hand and let him pull her to her feet. “I’ll race you to the Eiffel Tower.”

Chat Noir smiled at her, but she had already darted away.

Ladybug reached the top of the Eiffel Tower before Chat. She swung around the top of the huge metal structure and landed on her favorited perch. Chat landed effortlessly next to her.

“Shall we address how you had a head start, mi ’lady?” He rested against one of the pillars watching her closely.

“You’re taller than me so its only fair, your legs being longer and all.” She winked at him knowing just how stupid her excuse was before sitting down and stretched her legs out, wiggling her feet as if to prove a point.

He chuckled and shook his head. “Uh huh, and did you run here on those lovely legs of yours or was there a certain yo-yo involved?” He raised his eyebrows at her then slid down the pillar to a sitting position opposite her, stretching his long legs out.

“I don’t see what that has to do with it, Chaton.” She stuck her tongue out at him.

He nudged his foot against hers. “I know you can’t always tell me everything but I’m here for you if you need to talk Bugaboo.”

“Thanks Chat. I’ll be Ok. I just need some time. How did you know where to find me tonight?” She wriggled over to him and lent against his shoulder. He was one of her closest friends. She loved him more than she was willing to admit. Over the years it had added to her confusion but their duty to Paris came first. So, she had pushed the feeling down settling for their friendship.

“Cat intuition.” He wrapped his arm around her and buried his face into her hair. He loved how she always smelt of vanilla and fresh bread.

“Chat, that’s not a thing.” She giggled, trying to push him away.

He tightened his arms around her, refusing to let her warmth go. “Is too.” He mumbled into her shoulder.

He was always able to lighten her mood and she gave in and snuggled back into his side.

“Can we just stay here for a while? Up here it’s easier to breath, if you know what I mean.” She took a deep breath and slowly exhaled.

“Oh, believe me, I do Bugaboo.”

She wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that. He didn’t push her to talk and the pair fell into comfortable silence. When the city was fast asleep below, he nudged her gently.

“You awake Bugaboo.”

“Mmm, shhh.” She mumbled into his chest.

“I’d happily stay here all night, but don’t think Plagg and Tikki would appreciate it somehow.” He shifted his weight and silently cursed the Eiffel Tower for its hard metal beams.

The only response he got were a few more muffled sounds and her arms tighten around his waist.

“Well mi ‘lady I’d offer to carry you home and tuck you in, but you know secret identities and all.” He brushed a strand of hair that had fallen from her twin tails out of her face, careful not to scratch her with his claws. “Unless you feel like revealing where you lay that pretty head of yours at night.”  

“Silly Chaton, why you have to ruin it.” She grumbled untangling herself from him.

“Didn’t think so, Bugaboo.” He chuckled.

Ladybug frowned at her partner. He couldn’t help but smile at her messy twin tails and grumpy pout. She had never been good at being woken up, no matter what time of day it was.

“You sure you’re Ok?” He asked carefully moving her bangs to the side, letting his gloved hand linger on her cheek longer than he should.

“I will be, Chat. I don’t tell you enough, but you’re truly amazing. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” She kissed his cheek then ruffled his already messy blonde hair.

She saw the light blush that spread over his cheeks. There had been a time when he’d talked openly about his love for her. She’d never fully believed it and just passed it off as a silly infatuation due to teenage hormones and her very tight super suit. Over the years his advances had stopped. He was still very playful with her, but he respected her boundaries since she’s told him years ago that she had a boyfriend.

Chat took her hand in his, bowed and gently brushed his lips against her gloved hand as he kissed it. With a wide grin on his face he gave her a two fingered salute and pounced of into the dark, leaving Ladybug with a blush all of her own.

*

Ladybug landed lightly on her balcony and dropped her transformation. She felt the cool night air against her bare arms and shivered.

“Oh Marinette, are you Ok. That song was so sad.” Tikki rushed to hug her chosen, rubbing her little face against Marinette’s nose.

“Hey Tikki. Luka’s got a way with his words and I get it. I do. But I feel so exposed. The press is going to have a field day with it. I can’t go back to work next week. I just don’t think I can face Adrien yet.” Marinette closed her eyes and sighed. “Let’s get inside, it’s too cold out here tonight.”

Tikki sat on her shoulder as Marinette opened her skylight and climbed down onto her bed with a huff.

“You know Adrien only wants to be there for you Marinette. You should text him back.” Tikki said flying to the plate of cookies on Marinette’s desk.

As if on que Marinette’s cell phone beeped. She picked it up only to see a picture of the blonde model in question staring back at her with a message underneath.

Adrien - Hey Marinette. I know I’ve msg you about 100 times now, but I’m worried about you. It’s not like you to miss work. Please get back to me. Even if it’s just to tell me to go away xox

“See. Just answer the poor boy. You don’t have to say anything about Luka.” Tikki said with a mouth full of cookies.

“Tikki.” Marinette warned throwing her phone into a pile of clothes.  “On second thoughts, maybe I should get some fresh air. She grabbed her jacket and climbed back out onto the balcony.

“Marinette, you will catch a cold. You should really get some sleep. Its nearly 3am.” Tikki called after her.

Marinette stuck her head back into the skylight. “Tikki I love you, but please don’t mother me right now.” She frowned at her kwami.

“Rude.” Tikki stated, sticking her tongue our at her silly chosen who was still looking at her upside down from the skylight with her twin tails hanging around her slightly red face.

Marinette straightened up and turned around only to nearly fall back into the skylight when she saw a pair of glowing green eyes staring at her. “Oh. My. God. Chat don’t do that.” She squealed slapping Chat Noir’s leather clad chest.

Chat Noir caught her before she fell back. Smiling softly, he helped her to right herself, but didn’t let her go straight away. “Who you talking to Princess?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking the questions? What are you doing here? You silly Kitty, you nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“Let’s just say I have a lot on my mind and couldn’t sleep.”

Marinette reached up and scratched his cat ear, ruffling his soft hair as she did. He leaned into her palm and started to purr. She giggled at the silly superhero.

“Mm hmm, so you thought you’d scare innocent civilians instead?”

“Nope just one, princess. The scarring bit was a complete accident but a pleasant bonus.” He snickered.

“That’s so meant you ally cat.” She pouted and took her hand out of his hair. The purring stopped and he pouted back at her.

“Aww, but I love the way your little nose scrunches up and your pretty eyes get so big when you’re startled.” He wrapped his arms around her and buried his face into her shoulder, his tail curling around her leg as he did. “And you give the best hugs when your scared.”

Marinette giggled as his breath tickled her neck. She wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head against his chest. He wasn’t the lanky teenager he once was. Now over six foot, his lean body had filled out the leather suit nicely. It was hard to miss just how muscular his lean body had become over the years. The suit didn’t leave much to the imagination and he had plenty of fangirls, as well as more than half the housewives of Paris chasing after him. Yet somehow her civilian self Marinette had caught his eye a few years ago and an unlikely friendship had started.

She’d been caught off guard the first few times he’d visited her, after all he had no idea she was Ladybug. It was a few months after Luka had left, she was having a moment on her balcony when he dropped out of the sky scaring her half to death. Their conversations were always light-hearted and playfully flirty, but he always respected her boundaries.

No one knew of his visits except Tikki, who didn’t encourage the relationship saying, “It was risky and slightly unfair on Chat.” But he brought her comfort when Luka was away, and she couldn’t be with her friends. Funny enough he had a great eye for design and loved listening to her ideas, adding his opinion if she was stuck. In return she gave him the company and affection he seemed to be lacking.

“You are impossible to stay angry at Kitty. Do you want to come inside? Not all of us have the luxury of a full leather suit to keep us warm.” She looked up at him through her dark lashes.

She knew it was late or really early. Whatever way you looked at it, he should go home before it was light, but the thought of being alone now he was here left her feeling empty inside.

“Sure, thing Princess, but only if you promise to go to sleep.” He said running a clawed finger carefully down her nose.

“You’re no fun. No late-night hot chocolate?” She offered as she turned and slid through the skylight, landing on her messy bed.

“Nope. If you get into bed and don’t argue, I’ll draw on your back.” He landed on her bed and looked around her normally tidy room.

“Fine. You had me at back rub, anyway.” She said ignoring his raise eyebrows. Kicking off her pink converse, she wriggled under the blankets.

“Wow. What happened in here?” Chat couldn’t help but ask.

“No talking, remember. Back rubs.” She patted the spot next to her feeling suddenly more tired than she thought she was.

“What my Princess wants she gets, but we’re going to talk about this later.” Chat pointed to the mess on the floor then crawled over to her tooting as he wrapped his arm around her. His tail curled over her body like it always did. It was something that had embarrassed him at first, but it hadn’t taken both of them long to get use to his tail having a mind of its own.

Marinette snuggled against his chest and closed her eyes. She knew Tikki would have something to say in the morning about her late-night visitor but at the moment all Marinette could think about was the soft heartbeat in her ear and the soft lines Chat was drawing on the back. It almost felt like letters and she tried to concentrate on his finger as it traced lines and curves on her back.

One line another line, circle, more lines another circle with a tail?

Marinette could hear someone knocking somewhere in the distance. There it was again. She really wished Chat would tell them to shut up.

“Marinette, dear? Are you up yet?” Her mother’s voice floated through the door.

Marinette was now. She sat up, looking around her room for Chat. Daylight flooded in through her window and skylight, but Chat was nowhere to be seen. On her skylight was a pink post-it note with a pair of cat ears, a little cat nose with whiskers and a curved CN followed by xox.

The door opened. “Oh, good you’ve cleaned your room. It’s lunch time, honey. Do you feel like coming downstairs, or do you want to eat in your blanket fort?”

Marinette looked around her now spotless room. All the dirty plates and cups were gone. A pile of clothes was folded on her chase. The books and magazines that had been all over the floor and desk were back in there rightful places and in the middle of the room a huge blanket fort sat. At the entrance sat a large black plush cat. It had a little gold bell around its neck and at its feet lay a single red rose.

Chapter: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

[bigskydreaming]

I mean, here’s the thing....

I’m more than capable of writing positive Batfam posts, meta deep dives that don’t dwell overlong on negativity, serious content, light hearted content, content about each and every one of the Batfam....anyone familiar with just a few different samples of my posts knows I do not lack for topics to happily ramble on about for absurd lengths. Hell, I’m pretty sure there’s a direct correlation where like, the less negative emotions I have about the content I’m writing, the LONGER it ends up being.

So its not like I particularly need or want to be the ‘loud angry scary adult cis white man yelling at kids’ to have something to say or talk about. Or that I particularly like that state of mind. I’m certainly not unaware of my privileges or that I can be off-putting or not someone everyone wants to be around on here. Its actually something I put a lot of thought into regularly, as personal accountability is such a big deal to me, and that certainly includes my own. There are times where I’ve looked back on something and thought yeah, I definitely could’ve dialed it down there.

But not gonna lie, given that personal accountability is kinda My Theme and I DO put a lot of time and effort into being self-aware and taking care not to cross certain lines, whether you believe me or not or agree with where I draw my lines or not....

Its more than a little obnoxious to regularly see my positive posts and my emotion-neutral meta posts and even my negative critical of canon posts take off and get hundreds of notes in just a couple of days....

But without fail, any time I so much as suggest that fandom’s perpetuating some of the very same toxic tendencies I criticize canon for, with the extension of that thought being hey fandom, unlike canon and how its written, we actually can do something about how we write these very same matters and slowly but surely normalize reader resistance to canon still perpetuating those ideas in the future, and maybe someday even they might buy a vowel and realize hey, our audience does not like what we’re selling here.

*Shrugs* Or maybe not. But even SOME changes to how specific problematic tropes and dynamics are being written in fandom currently could still only be an improvement, is all I’m saying.

Except, every time, without fail, no matter HOW I go about saying it, how polite, mild, civil, non-accusatory....its either crickets or immediate heels dug into the sand as often the very same people who commented on my neutral meta with variations of ‘this is pretty insightful’, like at the mere SUGGESTION its worth taking a more critical look at their own content to see what they might unknowingly be perpetuating and like....the very idea of asking fic writers to be more accountable for what toxic tendencies we perpetuate within our own creative works, even just among our own far more limited platforms....

Its like... HOLD UP! I AM BEING ATTACKED! WITHOUT CAUSE! WHY DO YOU HATE THE FANS? WHY AREN’T YOU SAYING ALL THIS STUFF ABOUT THE ACTUAL COMICS???

And its just like....uh....I did. I do. You were there. You were saying I was making some really good points. But without calling any individuals out or making specific insinuations or personal attacks....I am suddenly just the most unreasonable of the unreasonables, because I dared say “hey, we can’t do anything about what canon writes, but we can do something about the things we write, and actually transform some of the more problematic tendencies and dynamics from canon into things that benefit all the characters and all the fans.”

But nah. Without exception, those posts either get nada or they get vitriol, no matter my own linguistic volume....and meanwhile, posts I made just before them and just after them are now hitting the thousand notes mark. So I kinda can’t help but wonder, is the problem really that I magically lose all ability to grasp supremely basic concepts and start spewing irrelevant gibberish anytime I’m critical of fandom specifically? Or.....just spitballing here....is it at ALL possible that maybe I’m not as much of the problem there as you want to make me about to be?

Like, say what you will about how toxic my more negative, angry posts can be, but personally, I think artificial positivity is just as toxic....plastering a ‘I see nothing wrong here’ sign with a smiley face over a bunch of mold doesn’t actually accomplish anything but allow that mold to fester and grow even further, without notice, until it becomes too widespread to ignore anymore at which point its usually rooted so deep its impossible to get out.

So yeah. I get angry, the all caps come out, and the volume level of my posts on those subjects rises. Its something I’m aware of and something I’m okay with and stand by with certain posts and that I decide I’m not okay with and keep an eye against repeating with certain other posts. Its a process, it doesn’t have an endpoint or finish line, and I’m okay with all of that.

What I’m NOT okay with though, and never will be, is the heat I draw for that and the condemnations and criticisms of my behavior and how toxic and unpleasant I make fandom with those posts....as though the tendencies I’m pointing out in them, by virtue of already being present throughout fandom, don’t already make it toxic and unpleasant in a lot of ways, for a lot of people.

But for all the times I have someone respond to me or call me out specifically for one of my angry posts that very deliberately are made with no specific individuals in mind, just generic references to fandom wide tendencies as a whole....there’s a whole lot of ‘helpful advice’ for all the things I should do different or better to avoid making fandom a more toxic place.....and not a hint of awareness that there’s anything at all they could be doing differently to make fandom less toxic than it already is in various ways.

So just saying, I’m kiiiiiinda not super keen on being lectured for my shit by people who are committed to the belief that their own shit doesn’t stink....WHILE AT THE SAME TIME, I have a good half a dozen positive or neutral meta posts still making the rounds through fandom and consistently picking up notes that according to the tags, generally seem to be viewed as adding positively to fandom in their own respective fashions.

Which basically from my perspective, makes things look like this:

Me: regularly contributes positive content that’s received positively by lots of different parts of fandom, not just the Dick Grayson stan corner of it, with zero negativity attached to these posts....regularly contributes meta content that’s deemed insightful and adding fresh viewpoints by lots of different parts of fandom, not just the Dick Grayson stan corner of it, again, with zero negativity attached because it doesn’t rely on putting down any other characters to make whatever points I’m after.....

....but then contributes posts that are critical of certain specific characterizations and viewpoints within fandom itself, without actually having a twelve step powerpoint presentation attached detailing ALL FANS MUST DO THIS INSTEAD....and instead I usually just include a spectrum of possible alternative takes.....

But wait! Nooooow comes the pushback. Which usually sounds like various forms of this:

Stop trying to police us! La la la la can’t hear you over the sound of your moral superiority complex! You just want us to do exactly what you want us to do which is gaslighting and the very same abusive behavior you talk about which makes you abusive!

And also, a bunch of changing the subject or avoiding addressing various points I raise completely.

Maybe you see my issue? I don’t need tips on how to be a positive fandom presence, I actually don’t have any trouble creating positive content or meta, a large amount of which is deemed insightful and humorous and otherwise well received....but the second I make a criticism of fandom and suggest there’s things fans could be doing differently to address the toxicity existing around various characters in various respects, instead of just keeping everything about DC’s flaws which none of us including me have any kind of platform to even reach DC with......

Suddenly I have ZERO idea what I’m talking about, I clearly don’t get the point of fandom, period, I’m obsessed with my own moral righteousness, and am like, so out of the ballpark misguided its not even funny, and I need all of this explained to me like a five year old, because everyone obviously should get that ‘we’re just fans, why are you blaming us for things we write specifically instead of DC who are getting paid as if that’s even the point?’

So yup. I get ticked off, I make more posts venting about being ticked off, rinse and repeat and my volume goes up.

And that’s it by the way.

You’ll notice, that’s kinda the worst that ever happens, because I literally have never done anything but....type posts with lots of capitalized letters. I don’t target specific individuals, I don’t harass people, I don’t @ specific fics or fic writers or urge people to flood their comments or ask boxes with callouts. I’ve never called anyone in this fandom names or made personal attacks other than the posts various people have felt targeted by because my description of specific tropes or tendencies I have a problem with apparently made them think I was talking about them I guess? Hmm. Weird.

So what’s the point of this post? Idk. Nothing really. Not trying to accomplish anything, just putting my thoughts out there as a way to work through them because like....that’s literally what I have this blog for, lmao. And FYI, I super don’t appreciate the tactic of condemning me for my quote unquote rage issues and framing all this as me yelling at kids on the internet....kids, specifically, and oh right, just screaming at people rather than addressing my own abusive behavior.

Since abuse is a hugely personal and important topic to me, let me just say accusing me of abusing generic fandom in general (since again, I haven’t actually made any of this personal about any individual with my fandom criticisms)....like, I’m quite willing to consider and address flaws in my own behavior when raised, but I’m not a fan of being called abusive in a context that demonstrates a complete lack of awareness as to what abuse actually is.

You don’t like me yelling on my blog? Fine, you don’t have to like it, or me. But abuse is the exploitation of a power differential, taking advantage of power one person has over the other, or that the other person just doesn’t have period. The fact that I am an adult cis white man does not make me aggressively capitalizing stuff in my own posts the same as “the same triggering position of the cisgender man who screams and makes kids feel scared and wince and hide from your posts.”

Like, lol, nice. Classy. I mean who cares right, that yeah, even acknowledging that we can legitimately sense tones and moods through even written text.....a person ranting on their internet blog is not remotely interchangeable with the physical presence of an adult cis white man loudly screaming in your face and with the potential for immediate consequences and harm. Does that mean the tone of my posts is above criticism? No. It means exactly what I said. The one is not the same as the other. 

Secondly, the repeated insistence on me yelling at kids...and this person I’m quoting isn’t the only one who’s done this, FYI, and its crap. Am I unaware that there are a lot of minors in fandom? No, I absolutely am not. Its why I make a point to check the blog of someone I’m replying to heatedly before I respond, to make sure they’re not a minor, and if they are, I don’t engage. So that I can categorically state, with complete certainty, I have never yelled at a kid in this fandom. Do my generic yells about ‘fandom’ not include kids then? Yeah, you could say kids are included there, though again I’d have to question why my criticisms of specific handlings of specific subjects somehow equates to me yelling at specific individuals, whom apparently are all kids and only kids. Like, framing my posts as being all about me screaming at kids specifically is a deliberate choice with a clear aim of making me look as bad as possible. This isn’t subtle.

Third, as an abuse survivor I’m keenly aware that doesn’t exempt me from being abusive myself, but it does mean I find it really fucking gross to be labeled abusive because my posts make kids feel scared and wince and want to hide from my posts. As someone who as a kid absolutely had to hide from their abuser in fear, I really, dearly would love to know what exactly it is about the capitalized sentences written by a man who couldn’t even pick a stranger’s URL out of a lineup, that’s so scary that kids, specifically, want to run and hide from the big bad posts. No, seriously. Go on. Please tell me what exactly it is about my screaming rage issues as conveyed by my posts, which pose any kind of threat or even the potential of threat for someone who I’ve never interacted with and only feels personally attacked by my posts by virtue of associating themselves with the behaviors or tendencies I’ve centered in those posts as the things I’m specifically angry about.

I also apparently am abusive because that’s what you call it when I gaslight or attempt to gaslight a fandom....which is apparently what you call it when my fandom policing tries to get everyone to do exactly what I want them to do. Which again is pretty interesting to me given that I’ve literally never told even generic ‘fandom’ at large to do anything in specific other than....’hey this thing I think is shitty and thus am criticizing shouldn’t be a thing, stop doing it.” Oh wait, I’m sorry, I also ask people to consider their creative impact and not insist on pretending everything we write exists in a vacuum and has no potential to carry harm, and just keep this in mind when making our creative choices. Still not sure how that’s demanding everyone do things exactly the way I want them, since the only clear and actionable request or demand in all of that is...omg....HE ASKED THAT WE THINK ABOUT THE STUFF WE WRITE, HOW COULD HE???

Like, literally, that’s the furthest any of my angry, rage-borne DEMANDS have gone: I’ve asked people apply more personal accountability to their own creative works and not take their potential impact for granted just because they’re a fic writer rather than a published one....and oh yeah, not engage in perpetuating certain tropes or dynamics I consider toxic.

Now, anyone is certainly welcome to disagree with my take on any or all of those tropes, tendencies or dynamics being toxic....but to do so, like, you need to actually DISAGREE AND MAYBE EVEN TELL ME WHY. But the overall refusal to engage with any of my posts criticizing certain fandom tendencies regarding the characters, other than to make it about my overall toxicity and RAGE.....like, that means that I keep making posts that include specific examples for what I’m describing and why I think they’re toxic, and nobody’s actually made any kind of case for me being wrong in any of those posts? So.....its not actually gaslighting to try and convince people these things I bring up are toxic....when I’m actually including reasons and examples of the things I’m talking about in order to convince people, and I’m not actually ignoring, evading or misconstruing counter-arguments....because nobody’s actually making counter arguments in the first place!! That’s not fucking gaslighting, that’s called EXPRESSING MY VIEWPOINT ON A MATTER.

And for the record, like I said earlier, abuse is the perversion or exploitation of a power differential. Try all you want, but you can’t claim I have power over myriad specific individuals I don’t even know EXIST without them interacting with me directly....power that I’m then exploiting just by yelling at stuff on my blog. Yes I’m aware of my overall privileges as a cis and white man. But none of those change a damn thing about the fact that I’m not actually yelling at anyone in specific and people reading my posts have to decide for THEMSELVES whether the thing I’m pissed about is a thing they do before they can even CLAIM to feel at all ‘targeted’ by my RAGE (with me still not being able to tell from that who any particular individual this might apply to is, and also, THATS NOT EVEN THE POINT OF ANY OF MY POSTS)....NOR do any of my privileges negate the fact that every single one of you exists in varying physical distances from me, unknown to me, and I have ZERO power to compel you to even read my posts in the first place, or to keep you from exiting your browser or app or even just going ahead and blocking me to be sure you’re ‘safe’ from the big bad abusive boogeyman and his posts of Gaslighting and Rage.

Me venting on my own damn blog, even knowing that other people can see what I post and share it if they want, is NOT the same thing as screaming in your face and making you want to wince and hide, no matter WHO you are. It just literally isn’t. Doesn’t mean you can’t have a problem with my posts or my tone, it just means what it says. Its not the same thing, they’re not interchangeable or even comparable, because NONE OF YOU ARE A CAPTIVE AUDIENCE. There are NO possible consequences to ignoring, disagreeing with or just scrolling past my posts, firstly because THERE’S ZERO WAY FOR ME TO EVEN KNOW THAT, IF I EVEN CARED. Nobody, kid or adult, can ever HIDE from my posts, because that would first require MY POSTS EVER BE ABLE TO FIND THEM. Whatever the hell THAT even means.

You’re not my prisoners. You don’t have to be here. You’re not even ACTUALLY HERE. Nobody owes me an audience, and honestly, the lack of one wouldn’t change all that much because I babble on all the time about shit none of my followers actually care about, because I post for ME first and foremost, and people from there are welcome to do whatever they want to do with my content, or do nothing with it at all. I literally don’t care, other than thinking its shitty that so many people find my content worthwhile except and until I get critical of fandom behaviors at which point they only engage with it to make it all about ME and MY toxicity instead of anything I actually posted about. Which I then...gasp...vent about. How dare I be angry in the space I cultivated for myself online and other people chose to look in on by their own choice because rather than being threatened or bullied into doing so, they found at least something I’d said interesting enough to be worth listening to hear what else I might say.

I HAVE ZERO POWER OVER ANY OF YOU. At most my posts hold some weight for the people who think I generally have interesting or insightful things to say, but that’s literally it, and that’s the result of me having said things they find interesting and insightful overall. I can’t MAKE anyone do anything, if I’d ever even tried to make anyone do anything other than actually LISTEN to what I ACTUALLY am saying on certain subjects and CONSIDER IT. So if we’re going to throw words like gaslighting around so carelessly, we might want to hold that one up next to the phrase ‘fandom policing’ I so often get accused of....as though I’m any kind of actual authority with actual power to actually enforce any actual agenda I even actually have.

Which brings me to the last thing I want to touch on, which is my supposed moral righteousness, that oozes all over everything I post and drowns out any good points I have to make, which again, apparently is just in terms of fandom criticisms, since every other point I’ve ever made in fandom seems to come through just fine.

Like.....tbh, I don’t really know what to do with the many times I’ve heard people say I’m self-righteous and obsessed with my own moral righteousness. Considering like...I’m not shy about acknowledging my flaws, I know perfectly well I can be loud and angry and aggressive in my posts and have talked plenty before about not being super proud of that, I’ve never claimed to be a saint and I don’t think my actions and choices are the gold standard everyone should adhere to. In fact, the only time I make a point to state what *I* do or did or what *I* think or believe....is when its directly relevant to something critical I’m saying.

And you think that’s because I want everyone to be aware of how moral and righteous I am? Fucking please, if I were as self-absorbed as you people make me out to be when giving me shit, I just wanna know when you think I’d have time to squeeze out 10K of random Batfam meta every other day, instead of being busy finding new things to say about myself.

Literally the only reason I make a point to bring up my own behavior or choices when criticizing others is because PERSONAL ACCOUNTABILITY IS THE CORE THEME OF LITERALLY EVERYTHING I SAY IN THIS REGARD.

And you know what personal accountability requires? A willingness to acknowledge and address your own behavior. Which is why its kinda hilarious the consensus seems to be I’m too up my own ass to even be aware of my own behavior or actions, given that the literal actual reason I bring up examples of what I did or think when making posts about personal accountability....is to stress that REGARDLESS of what those things were, I think its important to not just be talking out of my ass. But rather to emphasize I hold myself to the same expectations I’m asking other people to consider, I’m putting it out there and on the record, here’s what I did relevant to this matter I’m talking about and why I made that choice....see, I’m not asking anything of anyone else that I don’t expect to be held to myself. ITS NOT ABOUT TRYING TO IMPRESS PEOPLE WITH MY MORAL RIGHTEOUSNESS, ITS LITERALLY JUST ME TRYING TO ESTABLISH I’M NOT LOOKING TO BE A HYPOCRITE IN THIS REGARD, SPECIFICALLY.

Like, is maybe that unnecessary and counter-productive? Could be, its something for me to think about some more, but gotta tell you, its a little hard figuring out what will and won’t work when I’m STILL waiting on the first time someone actually engages me on an actual criticism I’m actually voicing about fandom.

*Shrugs* Whatever. Like I said, I don’t even know if this post has a point beyond just getting this all out of my head, so whatever. Make of it what you will. People will likely still just keep viewing me however they already do, for better or worse. Oh well. C’est la vie. Its not the end of the world anymore than any other post I make is, no matter how much RAGE I imbue it with. As I’ve always said, that’s literally the only reason for any of the posts I make ever...I’m just getting them out of my head and down on paper, so to speak, in whatever mood I’m feeling while thinking about that topic. Yeah, I phrase things for a generic fandom audience most of the time, other than when I’m talking to someone directly, but never have I made a post with an entitled and expectant belief that people will take every word I say literally and regard it as a directive for what they should do and how they should live their lives. Since, y’know, I don’t actually think I should be the ruler of everyone’s choices. 

Over and over I keep repeating, I just want people to put more THOUGHT into their choices, and keep in mind various contexts that yeah, I think are relevant to certain topics, sue me. Because the vast majority of creative choices I take issue with, I actually fundamentally believe are just the result of a lack of thinking critically or with a broader awareness of various implications or repercussions. Shocking though this may seem, I’m actually a big believer that humans are inherently good or at least have the capacity to be.

The thing that amps up my frustration and ticks me off so often is how much time and effort I end up wasting trying to get people to address the actual things I’m asking them to consider, instead of dancing around it and evading it in every way possible, not even like, as an attempt to counter it, just willfully refusing to let it be about the topic I ACTUALLY raised.

And yeah, just FYI, to whom it may concern, since this is so often relevant it seems.....gotta say, I find it particularly odious that WITHOUT FAIL, the very same people who carelessly throw out ‘don’t like don’t read’ as the catch-all solution to every issue anyone ever might have with something in fandom, as though its that simple.....

Time after time demonstrate a COMPLETE refusal or inability to take their own damn advice, since NONE of this would ever even come up if the loudest advocates of that system actually APPLIED it themselves. 

And simply....didn’t read my posts.

I fail to see why I’m expected to do what they don’t consider worth doing themselves, to spare themselves the aggravation (or fear) from reading my posts. Let alone interacting with them.

But whatevs. When do I ever know what I’m talking about anyway, lol, on account of all this RAGE I’ve got mucking with my head and objectivity.

Oh well, gotta go. KALEN SMASH!

[suolainensilakka]

First Meeting

(Characters belong to myself and @enderchest !)

This was a really, really, really bad idea, Duster thought to himself as he shuffled from one pede to another, trying his hardest to blend in and stamp down his nervousness as Sentinel Prime marched in front of the group of soon-to-be Elite Guard cadets, scrutinizing each and every bot with trained precision and likely gauging whether or not they were worthy of recruiting officially.

“And what do you do?” he heard the Prime’s voice say, and tried to refrain from wincing. He wasn’t really yelling, per se, not even close, but the volume was still enough to make Duster cringe. The mech being questioned chuffed with laughter, but the much smaller minibot couldn’t see him properly from behind the mass of armored pedes blocking his view to the left.

“Gimme a target and I’ll show ya,” the mech replied with an audible grin. Sentinel’s optics narrowed at the informal language but he didn’t comment further, instead pointing towards the row of blandly painted training dummies standing behind him, stepping aside.

“Alright then, knock yourself out.” He was clearly skeptical, but there was a small glimmer of curiosity in his optics as he watched the newcomer step forward with confidence.

Duster leaned over to get a better look, only barely managing to catch a glimpse of a light brown and green mech before he suddenly launched forward with almost frightening speed and collided with the closest dummy, shattering it into near-symmetrical splinters that exploded outwards and sent all nearby mechs jumping backwards with surprised yells. The mech paid them no mind, instead whirling towards his next target and obliterating it in a similar manner. One was split in half with a single kick, another was sent flying several dozen feet into the air, and all the remaining ones were taken out so fast Duster’s optics almost hurt while trying to keep up with the bot’s incredible swiftness.

The mech finished his mock battle with a victorious whoop, turning to face his audience with his arms spread outwards and frame physically radiating heat from exertion. He paused for a moment before speaking, huffing as his frame struggled to cool down, but it was clear from the look on his face that he was quite proud of himself.

“How’s that for a demonstration?” he asked, grinning. There was a beat of silence as Sentinel simply blinked in response, before brushing a few stray flecks of debris from his shoulder with a short hum.

“Quite impressive,” he said, voice slightly strained from annoyance at the mess scattered about, but nonetheless still pleased. “What’s your name, soldier?” he then barked sharply, and the bot in question let out a short laugh.

“Name’s Breakbrawl.” He paused for a moment, flexing his arm cables in an almost comically exaggerated manner before continuing, “Sorry ‘bout the mess, by the way. Things kinda tend to go boom when I’m around.” Breakbrawl then chuckled at his own little joke, shoulders shaking and teal headlights flashing briefly.

“... Alright then, Breakbrawl, you’re in,” Sentinel replied after a pause, his trademark smirk settling back on his face as he gestured for the bot to step back into the line. Breakbrawl let out another joyful whoop, practically leaping into the group and moving to stand on his previous place with newfound energy and brightly glowing optics.

Duster had been watching the performance in almost complete silence, utterly captivated by the mech’s movements and the almost physically tangible confidence rolling off his shoulders in waves, and for a moment he’d almost forgotten why he was here in the first place. His earlier nervousness came crashing back in when Sentinel snapped back into drill sergeant mode, asking for each bot’s designation and function as he gradually moved closer and closer to Duster. The brown minibot briefly considered hiding behind one of the taller mechs, but immediately - albeit reluctantly - shook the idea away. You’re here now, you’ve come this far, you’ve put in too much effort to give up now. Stay calm.

Sentinel’s pedesteps grew closer. Duster tensed. His audials were online and perfectly functional but seemingly refused to process any noise filtered through beyond unintelligible muttering, and his spark hammered against its chamber with almost enough strength to visibly shine through its protective casing - calm down, you’re not going to die, just stop panicking - and Duster fought against the urge to bolt with all his might. Then, finally, after an agonizingly long ten minutes, Sentinel stopped in front of him and turned to look. The Prime’s stern expression briefly twisted into confusion after seeing no one there, and Duster - trying hard not to let his internal screaming physically spill out of his vocalizer - cleared his throat and waved a servo nervously.

“D-down here, sir!” he croaked, wincing slightly at the spontaneous voice crack. Sentinel nearly jumped in surprise before swiveling his helm towards the voice, and a wide, amused smirk appeared on his face. Leaning down towards Duster, he folded his arms behind him and tilted his helm slightly to the side, as if talking to a lost sparkling who had wandered too far from its guardians.

“And who are you, then?” he asked, clearly unimpressed. His tone sounded almost condescending, sending another wave of fear dancing through Duster’s spark.

“I... “ the minibot began, before pausing to clear his throat again and looking back up at Sentinel. “M-my name is Duster, sir.” A raised eyebrow was his only response for a moment.

“... Alright. What’s your specialty?”

“My--” Oh. Oh. Duster’s optics nervously flicked to look at the mechs around him - all had their optics trained on him and him alone, all understandably curious - and suddenly Duster realized just how awful his idea to come here had been. He didn’t have any special abilities or strengths that he could name. Not any he knew about, at least - it was becoming glaringly obvious that Sentinel, however, was very keen on knowing.

“Well?” the blue mech prodded impatiently, and Duster swallowed nervously.

“I-- uh--”

“Drawing attention away from teammates and distracting enemies, then. Got it,” Sentinel suddenly interrupted, grin widening even further. Duster’s vents sputtered, belching out clouds of soot in surprise.

“W--” he coughed, squinting slightly. “What?”

Sentinel’s optics narrowed marginally, adding a vaguely hostile edge to his already condescending expression.

“You heard me. It’s obvious you don’t have a lick of fighting spirit in you, and judging by that flimsy, paper-thin excuse for armor you’re wearing you wouldn’t last a nanosecond in a real, up-close fight with a Decepticon.” He leaned even further in, forcing Duster to take a nervous step backwards with his audial fins pinned tight against his helm, and jabbed a digit towards the minibot’s chest where his spark was rapidly pulsing within its glass casing. “And that might as well turn you into a big, red, screaming target with the words “shoot me” painted on. Honestly, it’s a miracle cleaning models like you are even allowed to apply.” Slowly, with an infuriatingly smug air clinging to him, Sentinel rose up and turned away, seemingly ready to continue to the next bot. Faint murmurs echoed all around - some sounded concerned, some snide, and it made Duster’s plating rattle faintly in discomfort.

“So, am I… am I in…?” he squeaked softly, watching Sentinel pause for a moment before turning his helm to peek at the minibot with a glare.

“For the time being, yes. Try not to waste my time too much. This oughta be fun…” he huffed, although Duster could tell the last part was more meant to be a low murmur than a comment directed his way. The Prime then turned away with a dismissive sneer, apparently choosing to ignore Duster from that moment onwards.

It was probably a good thing he did, too. He wasn’t sure how much longer he would last pinned under the Prime’s piercing gaze. Not without completely dissolving into a coughing, anxious mess, anyways. The fact that he had actually managed to get into the training program helped in softening the blow, but his joy was still vastly overshadowed by the obviously mocking way Sentinel had delivered the news - he just had to hope he could keep his calm for the rest of the training program, too.

“Well then, folks, it seems like you’ve all been - for the better of worse - accepted officially. Make no mistake, this does not mean that I’ll be going easy on you.” Sentinel’s gaze hovered over the group, optics narrowed. “Any of you.” Duster could hear some of the new cadets shuffling around nervously, too intimidated to talk. He couldn’t blame them, really.

“Now, since this particular training area is currently… “ the Prime began, before pausing and gesturing to the destroyed remains of the training dummies behind him, “... inoperable, we’ll be using the one further north until this mess is taken care of.”

Ah. Duster had a sinking feeling he knew what Sentinel was implying.

“You, over there. Duster. You’ll clean this up while we begin.”

Yep. Knew it.

Duster repressed the urge to sigh out loud, before nodding firmly. “Yes, sir.”

“Good.” Sentinel flashed another - insincere - smile his way, before turning around to address his troops. “Alright, off you go now,” he barked sharply, and a chorus of loud “yes sir”s met Duster’s audials before the group trotted off with thundering pedesteps, and left the brown minibot standing alone on the clearing.

“Wow. Tough luck.”

… Well, almost alone.

Duster’s helm fins twitched towards the noise and he turned to look at the source of the voice, seeing a slender, dark silver and green mech - Shutdown, he recalled from the earlier demonstrations - standing a few feet away with a sly grin, leaning his weight on one pede and arms crossed. Duster merely raised an eyebrow, silent.

“What, not even gonna reply?” Shutdown snorted, visor flashing. Duster simply rolled his optics in annoyance, moving to pick up the nearest piece of discarded rubble on the ground and twisting the shard around in his servos.

“Shouldn’t you be somewhere?” he asked dryly, tails twitching idly. He heard Shutdown give a harsh, ringing laugh behind him and tensed, listening as the mech’s pedesteps grew closer.

“Yeah, but shouldn’t you be somewhere too, I dunno… where you’re actually useful?”

Duster’s joints froze, vents sputtering out another cloud of dirt. What…?

“I dunno why they even let you in. Like, what are ya gonna do, blind the ‘Cons with ultra-polished armor? Dump a bucket of cleaning solvent underneath their pedes to trip them? Face it, you ain’t made to be a warrior.” Shutdown’s words each stung like a sharpened blade cutting into Duster’s armor, each one more vehement than the last - don’t defend yourself, don’t provoke him, stay still, the minibot chanted mentally, struggling not to visibly tremble - but it seemed like the green ex-racer wasn’t done yet.

“Keep trying, janitor, maybe you’ll actually make it to a full week,” he snarled, leaning almost uncomfortably close to Duster’s frame.

Don’t defend yourself. Don’t defend yourself. Don’t defend yourself. Don’t--

“OI! Knock it off, chump!”

Duster blinked, armor clamping down onto his protoform in surprise. That voice…

Shutdown actually visibly flinched, whirling around to look at the mech standing a few feet away with his teal optics narrowed, engine rumbling a low, threatening note.

“I mean it. Quit badgering the little guy and haul your aft back to Sentinel’s group before I punt you across the field myself,” Breakbrawl snapped sharply, and Shutdown paused to shoot another nasty glare at Duster before quickly slinking away from Breakbrawl’s piercing gaze, still muttering under his breath what Duster assumed were things he dared not say out loud himself.

After the mech’s back vanished from view, Breakbrawl strolled over to where Duster was still paralyzed and crouched down, optics visibly softening.

“Hey, fella, you okay?” he asked with an almost shockingly gentle voice, and Duster simply blinked in response before a nervous smile found its way on his face and he gave a tiny laugh.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine. Why…” Duster paused to cough out a puff of smoke, grimacing, “... why’d you… help me?” He really couldn’t comprehend why he of all bots would deem him worthy of assistance - as much as he hated admitting it, there wasn’t anything special about him. There had never been. So why…

“Eh, I just don’t like bullies,” Breakbrawl replied, stretching his neck cables with a faint grunt. For a second Duster thought he saw a veiled look of sadness flash in the mech’s optics, but the cryptic expression was soon gone before he had time to really notice it. Breakbrawl then flicked his optics to look into Duster’s own, and despite the mask covering the lower half of his face they almost gave the impression of a warm smile. Something in Duster’s spark shifted.

“Seriously though, you okay? Do I need to kick his aft?” Breakbrawl said, winking playfully.

That got a louder, more genuine laugh out of Duster, vents billowing out soot as his shoulders shook.

“No, please don’t,” he squeaked quietly, grinning. Breakbrawl gave a chuckle of his own in response, waving an arm through the air in a relaxed manner.

“Alright, alright, I won’t.”

Duster was just about to reply before a loud shout pierced the air from somewhere behind him, dragging out a frightened gasp from his vocalizer.

“Hey! What the pit are you still doing here?”

Breakbrawl’s armor had flared out like a startled cyber-cat’s at Sentinel’s yell, but he soon smoothed down his plating and turned towards the Prime with a sour look.

“I was just making sure Duster’s okay. Is that a problem…” He paused, narrowing his optics. “... sir?”

Sentinel glared back, before shaking his helm with an irritated sigh. He paused to glance at Duster, then back at Breakbrawl, scowling.

“Well then, if you two are such great buddies now, why don’t you clean up this mess together? That oughta teach you some manners, soldier,” he finished with a disapproving mutter, before sharply turning around and marching back to where the rest of the group was in the middle of completing an obstacle course. Duster simply stared for a moment, before looking at the mech next to him with a timid smile.

“Jeez, what crawled up his tailpipe and died?” he quipped, gently elbowing Breakbrawl’s side with a dull thud. The taller mech simply gave a casual shrug in response.

“Beats me,” he replied with an audible grin and a chuff of laughter. He then paused for a moment, picking up a nearby shard of debris and weighing it in his servos with a thoughtful look. His optics flicked up to look at the back of Sentinel’s helm, where he was barking out orders to the cadets, and Breakbrawl’s optics soon gained a mischievous glint. “Say what, Dusty… Should I nick ‘im with this?” he asked, slyly eyeing the Prime before shifting his helm to glance at Duster. The brown minibot burst into a short giggling fit, rapidly shaking his helm with a mildly exasperated look on his face.

“Primus, no! Don’t!” he chided the larger bot, whose face was glowing with both glee and genuine joy of having made the skittish minibot actually laugh.

“Well, if you say so,” he replied, snorting quietly. There was a short, relaxed pause between the two before he then slowly crouched down and started collecting the surrounding debris, quietly humming a cheerful melody Duster didn’t recognize. The minibot then jolted with a faint gasp, suddenly reminded of his original task, and bent down next to Breakbrawl to reach the rubble a bit further away, face glowing blue.

Breakbrawl’s optics briefly flicked to look towards Duster with an unreadable but relaxed expression, but he soon returned to work without comment. Duster simply allowed himself to get absorbed in the soothing, repetitive motions of cleaning, replaying the earlier conversation in his memory files and spark only briefly stalling at the realization that Breakbrawl had given him a nickname.

… Maybe Elite Guard training wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Contrary to Shutdown’s harsh insult on his first day, Duster didn’t get kicked out after a week.

He managed to last an astounding two and a half weeks before Sentinel seemingly got tired of having to pretend to tolerate his presence, and loudly and gleefully announced Duster’s involuntary exit. The shocked, dumbfounded silence that followed the announcement still haunted Duster to this day as he organized his belongings with automated motions, mouth pulled into a thin line and tails twitching idly. He remembered feeling shock and disappointment, but those feelings still paled when compared to a resigned, tired acceptance. He didn’t expect to last that long, but it still stung a little. Duster paused for a moment, looking at his arm pensively - it was probably for the better, anyways. As much as he hated admitting it, Sentinel was right about his unusually thin armor being unsuitable for combat.

A sudden but gentle knock to the door in his shared quarters with Breakbrawl broke the silence, and Duster’s armor flared out as he whirled around with a startled yelp. The door slid open and in came a very apologetic-looking Breakbrawl, audial fins pinned back as his optics gave the impression of a grimace.

“Sorry, pal, did I startle ya? Didn’t mean to do that, my bad,” the larger mech said, ducking his helm to avoid knocking it against the top of the doorframe as he strode in. Duster merely blinked, still frozen, before smoothing down his armor and waving a servo through the air nonchalantly, chuckling softly.

“‘S alright. Training’s over already?” he asked, tilting his helm to the side. Breakbrawl’s expression softened a bit more to his default relaxed look, and he gave a short nod in response.

“Yup. That’s… not the only reason I’m here, though,” he replied, and Duster raised an eyebrow curiously.

“Yeah? Everything alright?”

Breakbrawl’s face, though still covered by his mask, almost looked mildly smug. The expression disappeared shortly after, but Duster was already suspicious. The minibot narrowed his optics as Breakbrawl walked further into the room and sat down onto his assigned berth, the metal creaking slightly with the impact, and took a deep breath.

“I quit.”

Duster’s pistons froze for the second time that day, before his vents soon came back alive through a sputtering, choked squeak of alarm that sent clouds of dirt billowing everywhere around the brown minibot.

“What?” he hissed, optics flying wide open. Breakbrawl waved his servos in a placating manner, expression abashed, before he went on to explain.

“Easy, Dusty, easy! Don’t twist your cables into a coil, I’ve made my decision and I ain’t changing it,” he said with a small chuff of laughter. Upon seeing Duster’s still shocked expression, he let out a small sigh. “Look, I just…” he began, idly scratching the back of his neck. “... I dunno. It was really unfair of Sentinel to kick you out, especially in front of everyone like that.” He paused, optics flashing in a smile. “It just didn’t feel right to stay when I got this far this easily and you constantly got bossed around like you were nothing. Which definitely ain’t true,” Breakbrawl added with a huff.

Duster listened, silent save for the soft whirring of the gears beneath his protoform. He didn’t know how to respond. Breakbrawl’s expression softened further, and he leaned slightly towards Duster.

“B’sides, it just… it wouldn’t feel right without you,” he murmured, voice hushed to the point Duster wouldn’t have recognized him as the same mech who oh-so-gloriously demonstrated his fighting prowess the first time Duster ever saw him if he hadn’t seen this side of him once before. Duster took a small, hesitant step forward, swallowing the lump building at the back of his throat tubing.

“Y-you…. you could have become an Elite Guard, Brawl. You could have been promoted even further - you could have become a Prime, for crying out loud!” he spoke, voice trembling. “You could have become all that - gain the respect of the entire Autobot army, even - and you quit?” Duster felt something prickle at the corners of his optics. “F-for me?”

While Duster might have imagined the expression before, now there was absolutely no mistaking of the glow of pride on Breakbrawl’s face as the bot looked at Duster with what may have been the most fondness he had ever seen on a mech’s face before this moment. The barest hint of blue glowed on Breakbrawl’s cheeks as the mech chuckled, before a sly grin found its way on his face and his vents blew out a gust of air in a scoff.

“Tell ya what, Dusty, they can keep their damn Primes and promotions. Your company is perfectly good ‘nough for me,” Breakbrawl spoke with confident triumph, servo placed on top of his spark chamber to show the sincerity in his words.

Duster’s vents gave a small, choked whine he barely managed to stifle, and the minibot broke into a small, nearly hysterical fit of giggles. Breakbrawl looked concerned for a second before Duster quieted down, shoulders still shaking slightly.

“That’s… wow,” he finally replied with another muffled snort, grinning. “You…. seriously? That’s like… the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me,” Duster murmured softly, and Breakbrawl’s optics shone.

“Yeah, well, you deserve all the nice things in the whole world if I had any say in it.” He ignored Duster’s flustered sputtering for a moment before continuing with a grin, “And I’d say you’ve gone through enough scrap in your life as it is.” Breakbrawl paused again, expression softening once more. “Say what, how about we go exploring together? I can get us a small ship, we could just…” he spoke, slowly dragging his opened palm across the air in front of him as if to imitate a starship’s trajectory, “... fly through the cosmos, just you and I, no strict higher-ups bossing us around, no Sentinel to breathe down our necks, no limits or boundaries between us and the galaxy.”

Duster listened quietly, helm fins twitching with curiosity as he nodded slowly, optics gradually gaining back their passionate shine as he watched Breakbrawl animatedly gush about their future journey. The larger bot paused for a moment, glancing at Duster in a silent question.

“I heard there’s a small team of Autobots currently stationed on a planet called Earth and that they could use some backup. A change of scenery would be pretty nice wouldn't it?” Breakbrawl asked with an audible grin, tilting his helm to the side. “Whaddya say, lil, buddy? Wanna go on an adventure with me?”

Duster gave a short, delighted laugh in response, launching forward to wrap his arms around Breakbrawl’s chassis in a hug.

“Absolutely,” he said, burying his helm into the crook of Breakbrawl’s neck with a wide smile.

[allianceinternational-blog]

Corporate Training Companies - Critical Steps When Choosing A Network Marketing Sponsor

Description:If you are amongst the growing number of people that believe network marketing is a viable business option; site directories. Find Top Corporate Training Companies In India decision you must make is which opportunity is better for you.

Video Source :

Author Name: Yogita Yadav

Address:- 104 Esplanade ave 120,

        Pacifica, CA

Mobile No:- +1 917-668-8461  

Top Most Corporate Training Companies - How To Investigate Seo Success With Corporate Training

They will talk this event. How different and fun accomplish the widely spontaneous "let's do company-wide potluck!" initiative. Regarding something various and that's what's going to give a relief towards the often too conformed, overworked employees, For More Information Of Best Corporate Training Companies In India Click This

Image Source:

Network marketing training is imperative. You require good training on many subjects, including Recruiting, Retailing, Prospecting, Contacting, Best Corporate Training Companies Presenting, Having the Decision, and Building friends. Those are just the begin a solid MLM Training program.

I am not aware of enough about exactly how the concepts of marketing ebay so I might like a quick overview with the basic values beyond service shop or remedys. The real values of leverage, duplication and earnings by using Information tools in our ever-changing Information Economy will outweigh a product of soap or wax luminous. Don't give me a line-up of merchandise to begin with.

At helpful tips of my 10-year career as the pinnacle of AOL's corporate training companies, I desperately wanted an amendment. I had recently been accepted to grad school and Website determined that continuing achieve 60-hour weeks along with studying for grad school while finalizing my divorce was too much. We had arrived beyond weary and maxed. I desperately wanted request my manager for the things i really wanted - check out part-time - but Utilized stuck and scared.

I always used to believe I'd been just not cut out for team work. I mean, I loved working on his own. I could finish my projects on time, without waiting for others to capture up when camping. But globe first session of image consultation, Received to realize I'm, in fact, a people's woman / man. I had the skills to work efficiently along with other team members in my department.

Now, you'll want to remember that Nature's Universal Laws run the universe, every atom, molecule, galaxy and therefore every business, person, community and family lives under the same fundamental principles. We can't escape those laws, except within our heads where, literally, anything is they can. (even depression can exist in the human head in essentially the most magnificent world we can imagine). Our head can be so filled with ideas that make life "gooder" and equally it can be filled with garbage. so that you'll keep in mind. garbage in = garbage presently there.

The Great thing about MPM is that you can help change the world, and help reach your own goals by becoming a part for Absolutely free. You have the option to obtain a Free Personal or Business Power Mall.

However, we do bring essential guidance to you exactly what is myth and what's real in self management based on Nature's Universal Laws and therefore this is not on trend, fashion, emotion or rhetoric. So, in this post I'm going produce a little summary you r of exactly what Managing You is just like from Nature's Impression.

Hand calculators conquer the fear of formal presentations in the privacy of one's office or hotel room. You can jump in and build exactly the skills you require to succeed.

It's not necessary to copyright your songs, but it's highly mentioned. You worked so hard to create the music, and you need to make without you have 100% tackle. If you copyright your music, it seem completely safe and sound. The process is simple around the Library of Congress website, or it is possible to hire an entertainment attorney to work with you.

Your last check will not be a surprise to any person. Did you receive any corporate training companies? Were you negative vacation and fed up? If you received training,  prorate meaning you only owe based on the timeframe which passed within one-year period. If you were negation vacation or sick, you ought to believe always be affect your last make sure.

No complicated calendars. No boring mentors. Just full-strength starting to learn. To maximize your skill development, grab the online tips for presentations that appeal a person.

Everyday my Facebook is filled with people sharing save the whales as well. I really appreciate their sentiment but often wonder the amount of their investment is based on a "cockeyed" view of themselves, their life along with the world around them? What many people don't recognise usually when they vent their "twisted" perspectives onto others they do in fact cause a reaction that truly generates Steadiness. in other words, resistance.

Image Source:

As an important part of team building retreats, may required folks within the audience know various other well. If you are not aware of the group members then chances of prosperity become scant. Thus, if you need to extend your professional limits, you need to be an a part of a strong group. Networking is an inclusive piece of any good business and to make it happen right, the people in the group should perform sensibly. Working with a presence of mind along with the best inclination to share can really change lives and tasks.

Visit https://www.allianceinternational.co.in/ For More Information

[nyam]

Caped Demon’s Disciple

Words: 3310

Rating: T for Teen and Up Audiences

Day 6: Reverse!AU

Summary: Genos is the strongest man in the world, living the most dull and loneliest of lives - that is, until a banged up cyborg comes waltzing into it.

Caped Demon’s Disciple

    Being the strongest man in the world was a reward in itself: as long as he can serve the public for when it needed him, every anti-climactic fight, every boring monster, every monotonous day with no new information on the mad cyborg and mean comments spewed against him was all worth it.

    At least that’s what Genos told himself as he stood in the checking counter, attempting to kindly explain to the customer that no, those bananas weren’t included in the sale and no, policies were policies and he couldn’t deduct the price and no, it wasn’t fair and so on.

    The man was about to come in for another outburst when a faint explosion occurred in the distance, followed by the dull sound of the evacuation raids.

    “This is a warning,” the voice sounded, immediately filling fear into the customers and sending the store into a frenzy. “Please evacuate. A demon level threat is headed for city Z. Please evacuate-”

    When Genos turned back, the store was empty and everyone had fled; the blonde only grinned. Good. He was about to crack the cash register at any second now with that man hollering over his shoulder… sneaking a look left and right, Genos reached for the duffel bag under his seat, sighing.

    It seems I will have to leave work early…

    Genos sped across the empty city, his flowing white cape flapping behind him from the rush of wind, his bright blonde hair swooping back with a charming air blown style - oh how the public would love him, mock him just at this moment.

    It was no lie that there were mixed feelings towards the so-called powerful hero Caped Demon: since the moment he delivered a single blow on a demon level that and someone had posted the fight online, the video went viral - from theories to debunking to hailing and praising, everyone had come to wonder who the handsome hero really was. A liar? A god? It brought him admirers and critics alike, all attempting to pry into his life for all the wrong reasons.

    Genos sighed, swore, cringed and raged; but at the end of the day he’d brush all the fake words off with the mail and continue on with his life, push on in his search for the creature that had devastated his town and left his family for dead.

    The hatred he felt that day… Genos knew since then he had to be stronger, he had to train until nothing, no monster could ever get the best of him - no more families would be torn apart like his, no child would be left behind in defeat. After three years of grueling training, Genos finally got his wish and became strong enough to send monsters flying with only a single blow - a power untapped by no man before or since - but…

    He sighed, rounding another corner and dashing towards the dark swirl in the distance.

    It was nice and all, really. The power was all he ever wanted, and now he had it… but he was nowhere closer to his goal than the beginning. He was alone, worked part time as a cashier and C-class hero to sustain himself, went out for drinks with his coworkers on the weekends (always unwillingly), did his laundry and cooked his own meals just like anybody else. Despite being alone most of the time and never speaking to anyone, the blonde never fancied himself as wanting people in his life - after all, he knew too well how easily one could be ripped from his grasp.

    No, instead he just felt something was missing. Maybe a sign, a clue that there was something to chase after, something to follow-

    “Ah!” He stopped in his tracks, shock and confusion simultaneously racking through his body as he watched what appeared to be a machine jumping up into the swarm.

    Who is that idiot? Did they really send just one fool from the Heroes’ Association to deal with a demon level threat?

    He shook his head, clicking his tongue in annoyance when he heard a terrible laughter shriek inside the twister; Genos darted forward with a gasp as the shape swirled and expanded, revealing a mosquito-esque woman laughing in utter malicious delight, slashing back and forth in the blink of an eye across the machine-like being, sending body parts flying and a single torso falling, a strange light emerging from the center when-

    BAM!!! Genos leaped forward and blasted the woman off into the skies, landing square onto the road with a deadly, elegant glow.

    He glanced to the side when the disembodied body fell to the ground in a heap.

    Genos carefully stood up and made his way towards it, brows furrowing almost in pity. Those fools, he thought, a life could have been saved had they not had sent a single hero alone.

    But then the body moved; the heap of scrap metal shifted, duck-taped parts falling away and random bolts popping out, but slowly, Genos watched in bewilderment as a shocked face struggled to look up at him.

    The human froze. A...a cyborg?!

    “You…” the thing struggled, and the hero wondered if it was about to utter its final words when the cyborg’s serious face dropped into a single simple smile. “Hey, that was pretty cool, man.” Genos’ jaw dropped. He did a finger gun at him. “Thanks.”

    “I - “ he stumbled. “Are you all right?!”

    “I’ve had worse, yeah. But what you did back there was awesome, kid, how’d you do it?”

    “Um. Please seek help.”

    “What’s your name?” the cyborg deflected. “I’m Saitama.”

    “...” Unbelievable. “It’s...it’s Genos.”

    No wait-! He would’ve slapped his own forehead had his hand not have been covered in blood. Why hadn’t I said Caped Demon?! Damn! I’ve given away my true identity!

    This could mean…

    “Cool name. I’m going to pass out now though, so see you around.”

    Before he could say another word, the cyborg dropped his head to the floor and promptly shut down.

    Much to Genos’ confusion, that Saitama...proved to be persistent. He wasn’t even trying to hide it - Genos could look right over his shoulder and he’d be there, giving him a small bored wave from the distance. He was also loud too, his barely-kept together body falling apart, dropping a plate of metal, a leg clomping off at a turn, a bolt bouncing off the sidewalk or vent popping with fumes. Hell, Genos nearly tripped over himself when he found him casually digging through his trash cans - and let’s not forget the night where he was sitting alone at home when a bored voice groaned in the distance, “For heaven’s sake, kid, don’t just sit there! Do something cool!”

    At this rate, Genos was getting ready to either pop a dent into his chest or change his address. He sighed, placing his empty glass on the counter. His coworkers were laughing and fooling around from behind him, but Genos paid them no mind: instead, he only wondered about that strange cyborg following him around? What did he want? What did he find so interesting about him?

    These thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a glass slamming down next to him, someone moving to sit into the booth on his left. Genos spared a mild glance before doing a double take and gaping: the said cyborg on the other hand ever so casually turned and looked at him, bored eyes now looking serious.

    “Okay, look,” he started, “I’ve been kind of uh, ‘following you’ for a while. You might have noticed.”

    Is he joking?

    “But - “ he took in a breath, then opened his eyes - one glitching - and stared straight into his: a.k.a, he was not. “I’ve been thinking it over, and as much as I really don’t want to, I was wondering if you uh, mind showing me how you do it.”

    “Do what?” Genos incredulously asked, eyes wide and disbelieving.

    “Wha - the thing! Where you just - punch stuff and it’s dead!”

    Oh. Of course. Genos narrowed his eyes and promptly turned back to his glass, facing away from him. Figures, he thought. Just what was he expecting? This weird little tinbot being was just like everyone else, here to either praise or denounce him.

    Great. Just great. Just what he needed after a week of utter garbage.

    “Oi - Mister uh - what’shisface - Genos!”

    “Hmph. I do not need to talk to you nor answer your question. All I ask is that you keep my real name quiet - the last thing I need is the public to know who Caped Demon really is.” Oh hell. His eyes widened. Did he just… give him blackmail material?!

    “A-Anyways,” he fumbled, “I shall get going. Good night.”

    “Ah - woah, wait!”

    Without hearing whatever he had to say next, Genos quickly left a twenty dollar bill for his tab and took off, hurrying down the sidewalk, away from the voice calling out his name when he heard the sound of an engine giving out a final plume and going quiet, the voice stopping immediately. Genos stopped, hesitating, before turning around to find Saitama face-down on the ground, completely powered down.

    He had no choice.

    Bam! A glass of tea was slammed onto the table. Bam! Then a plate of freshly scrambled eggs, a perfect toast and crisp cooked bacon strips.

    Saitama stared down at the food presented to him in bewilderment.

    “Please drink your tea, finish your breakfast, then leave.”

    “You really don’t beat around the bush, huh…” Saitama leaned back in thought. “Okay, I’m a cyborg and I fight monsters for fun.”

    Genos stared at him.

    Saitama deadpanned. “That’s it.”

    “Huh? You’re kidding.”

    Saitama’s left eye fell off with a clank. “Nope.”

    “That’s… that’s foolish. What kind of goal is that?”

    “‘Ts not a goal, it’s just what I do.”

    “And what exactly prompted you to become a cyborg?”

    Saitama only gave him a long stare, his one single eye quietly baring into Genos’ before he promptly lifted his tea and downed the whole cup in one go.

    “So how’d you get so strong?” he started.

    Genos narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “Why do you want to know?”

    “Seems convenient, and kind of cool.”

    “...Is that it?”

    “Yup.”

    Now it was Genos’ turn to stare at him, watching with a thoughtful look as the bald cyborg cursed under his breath, reattaching his eye back into place; he was falling apart at the seams obviously, held together by makeshift gears and tape, body parts made of the common everyday metals and bits that could have been found in flea markets. The only thing that didn’t look straight out of the garbage can was his face - smooth, simple, with only one human-looking eye and one completely black save for an LED golden iris.

    It was jarring, but oddly balanced all the same.

    When his shoulder gave out another loud poof of smoke, Genos frowned.

    “What?”

    “You’re obviously incapable of performing hero work - not in that condition, at least. If anything, it is nothing short of a miracle that you’re alive today. Please seek out a specialist.”

    The bald man’s brow twitched. “Hey, I’ll have you know I’ve been taking good care of myself as of late. See this?” He showed him his fist, banged up and dented. “I took on three monsters and I can still move it.”

    The hand promptly snapped off.

    “Oh.”

    In his defense, it was all by accident; it was by mere chance that the moment Saitama was about to leave that some goons from a secret organization came to attack. With no choice but to bring Saitama along, Genos and the bald cyborg took on and down the Evolution Building.

    That should’ve been the end of it, but no - Saitama started dropping in randomly, sometimes literally, when Genos kept finding his body lying around in the aftermath of monster attacks. He kept insisting Saitama to go see a specialist, but the more he started to find out about him, the more he began to realize that the bald cyborg had been a lone one: Saitama had, for so many years, took the world on as his own. He never said much about his family or past, but considering Genos hadn’t either he never pressed.

    He started cooking for him; “A brain needs nutrients,” he’d say to himself as he bought extra food and glanced out the windows wondering if Saitama might come by.

    Some cold nights he made for a warm heater too, peacefully drooling over the floor while letting out a long series of weak vhrrrrrrrrrrr’s...

    He was also interesting; sometimes he’d tell the human stories about his past misadventures on the road, or show him the weird gadgets he’d tried to install into his body - the most notable being the potato peeler in his knuckles.

    And soon enough, the apathetic cyborg had found a place in Genos’ life.

    Genos stopped avoiding him - hell, he even sometimes looked for him after certain brutal battles, a dull fear that the walking tinbot might have finally collapsed for good. He started smiling when he saw him, started pressed him to join the HA, started inviting him over and cooking dinners for two, humming, glancing at the wall clock several times wondering what time he would come.

    Partners, he sometimes wondered, washing the dishes as he fancied the thought of the two of them, fighting together to take down whatever came across their way. Saitama was certainly a formidable foe - the dead monsters were enough proof of that - but even then all it would take would be just one lucky hit…

    No. He shook his head.

    “You should join the HA,” Genos said one night as they cleaned up after dinner, “you will be paid the more ranks you rise.”

    “I’ll pass. Too much work.”

    “You’ll make plenty of connections.”

    “Nah.”

    “The Heroes Association also has amazing medical experts.” Not that he himself had been studying endless nights on cybernetics or anything… “And if you stay long enough, you may rise to S-class and find an apartment within the headquarters. You wouldn’t have to travel anymore.”

    “No thanks, kid. Really.”

    Genos hesitated. He stared down at his hands, powerful enough to destroy entire cities, and quietly handed the dishes to Saitama to dry.

    “For me.” He turned towards him. “Join for me. I’ll go with you, Saitama, but please consider it.”

    At that, the cyborg had no choice. “Fine.” He sighed, lashes lowering. “I’ll stay for a bit, I guess.”

    On a man with too many emotions, relief was a pleasant change. “Thank you.”

    Saitama had barely passed through the skin off his teeth; with a heavily low C, he made it into the association and started his new career.

    Genos took them out for dinner, praising him in delight and watching with a growing smile as more and more smoke popped out of his vents and shoulderblades.

    “Hey - ah, I hope you don’t mind,” he said on the way home, “But I kind of signed up as your disciple.”

    Genos stopped. “My what?”

    “Um. I could change it, if you’d-”

    “No! No,” he quickly said, feeling lighter and heavier at once, “I’m glad you’ve decided to become my disciple.” Genos glanced down at his boots. “...You wanted to be stronger, didn’t you. Yes, that was why you looked for me from the start.”

    “Well yeah,”

    His heart sank.

    “But it’s not really the reason why I stayed.”

    - And soared right up his throat and into the air. “Saitama!”

    “Wha- kid, don’t yell like that!”

    “I’m very happy - ah-! - you should come live with me!”

    “Huh?” Smoke crackled out his shoulders, popping a metal plate off his back. “That’s - wow. That’s really nice of you, Genos, but I wouldn’t go that far...”

    “I insist. There is enough room, and I will make accommodations for you and your things.”

    Saitama looked away, and had he been human Genos would’ve sworn he’d be blushing.

    His worst fears had come true.

    Genos had ran, faster than he ever had before, past the sun and beyond the night - swearing to himself, he’d find him before the stars do, he’ll beat the night and find him before it gets too dark and cold to have dinner anymore -

    Golden eyes widened in shock. “SAITAMA!!”

    He jumped over the rubble of his body and landed a brutal blow into the stomach of the Sea King, panting, before whirling around and dropping to his knees beside him. “Saitama!” His voice cracked. “Oh no - no no no no no.” Genos whispered under his breath, cradling the back of his head and gently patting his cheek, overflowing gold staring into both dead black and empty white. He felt people surround them, heard the faraway sirens coming for the fallen heroes, “Saitama,” he breathed, voice low and barely above a hushed whisper. “Saitama, Saitama, please - “

    A hand made of scraps weakly poked his cheek. “O-o-o-o-o-i,” he grimaced, then tried to speak again only to choke out glitched vowels and what sounded like a ‘I’m fine.’

    Genos gasped, lips trembling, before letting out a sound and lowering his head, gently pressing his forehead against the others’. Something roared in his chest, so tight and hot that the tears that slid down his cheeks almost burned.

    “Saitama,” he murmured, over and over again like a mantra.

    He wasn’t very good as a teacher.

    Genos had never seen himself as someone who’d need another, but now more than ever was he grateful for integrating himself into the hero society, for having options and a place to sit while they operated on Saitama in the robotics department. It was several hours into the night when an old doctor with a mushroom haircut came out with a very human looking young man - still bald,  just the way he liked it - one eye black with golden and one white with brown - dressed in khakis and a simple red and white hoodie.

    “Genos,” Saitama grinned, waving his new, high-tech hand with ease. “Look - “ he did a short spin, revealing the full black and silver metal of his legs and neck. “This doc here got me fixed up!”

    “How you managed to live for so long will baffle me for years to come,” the old doc good-naturedly joked, shaking his head. “But in any case please don’t forget to check up on yourself, Mr…”

    “Wait! Don't say my hero name - just say Saitama!”

    “What’s his hero name?” Now come to think of it, he never did tell Genos…

    “Bald Cyborg,” a passing technician grinned, earning a glare from the angry disciple.

     “Shut up!”

    “All right, so how’s it looking?”

    “Dragon-level threat. Not too bad, but I highly recommend you to withhold your incinerators until you’re properly trained with them.”

    “What? But I only blasted you like, one time - by accident,” he added.

    “That is true and I’ve deducted some points off your training chart for that-” Genos smiled when Saitama let out a small “whoop!” in the background- “But according to said program, I’m giving you two months to fully work out the kinks of your mechanics until you can use them in the field.”

    “So I just hang back here for this one?”

    “It’s not so bad. You can go look for survivors.”

    “...”

    “...And maybe fight the minions.”

    “I like the sound of that maybe.” Saitama raised a brow. “What’s the occasion?”

    “Nothing. You’ve been doing well, is all.” Genos eyed him, gaze lingering on the tubes of his neck, sliding down into his chest and hidden by his shirt.

    When Saitama turned up to look, he turned away, cheeks red.

    “On another note, I was thinking we could make cutlet chicken for dinner. Hopefully we will finish on time.”

    The cyborg only gave him a lop-sided smile, once dull eyes now shining. “Whatever you say, Sensei.”

     “Saitama!”

[spiteweaver]

previous | next

Almost the entirety of Clan Feldspar, several-hundred strong, had gathered in the town square. A large stage had been erected, upon which Dreamweaver and Banrai now stood. Dreamweaver’s hand rested lightly upon their husband’s. They surveyed the crowd in patient silence, waiting for their people to settle.

“Quiet, you lot!”

Solaire’s hardy call cut through the commotion, and silence descended on the square. Now the only sound came from Phantasos, giggling in their brother’s arms and reaching upwards to grasp at the lanterns hanging overhead.

“Thank you, Solaire,” Banrai said. “Now, to business. I’m sorry we’ve called you all here so late in the evening, but we didn’t want to cut into your busy schedules. As you well know, we’ve all had our hands full this past eon.”

“That’s an understatement,” Castor said. “Seaglass took out half th’ village.”

“I-I didn’t--”

“I know ye didn’t mean to. I was only teasin’ ye, boy.”

“Good-natured ribbing aside,” Dreamweaver began, “and despite the fullness of our hands, Banrai and I have decided it would be best if we made an official announcement regarding some of our new members.”

Dreamweaver motioned to the group of eleven loitering by the stairs. One by one, they ascended to stand beside their founders, each of them with hands clasped and eyes downcast humbly. A murmur rippled through the crowd below as heads came together in gossip.

“Some of you are already familiar with them and their duties,” Dreamweaver said, “but this gathering affords us an opportunity to discuss future plans with the whole of the clan. Firstly, however, we must see to formal introductions.”

A short, stocky dam with hair the color of ripe peaches stepped to the edge of the stage. Dressed in dusty gossamer and strings of gold, she gave off a warm, inviting air. She bowed her head to the audience with a gracious smile.

“My name is Rosegold,” she said, “and I will be your Earth Representative. My first task, as decided upon by both the founders and myself, will be to reach out to clans in Dragonhome who have fallen under the tyranny of the Warren. The Warren’s queen has long cast a dark shadow over my people’s lands. I hope to put a stop to its spread, and gain us many strong, loyal allies in the process.”

Next to shuffle forward was a tall, gangling fellow. He had an anxious aura about him, as if he were the sort to never speak above a whisper--yet, when he addressed the crowd, his voice was surprisingly strong and clear.

“I am Plaquemine,” he said, “and I am your Plague Representative. My first task will be to journey to my homeland and commune with its medicine people. They have a wealth of knowledge concerning disease and rot that may aid us in coming eons. Our clan’s epidemiologist, Loyal, will be accompanying me. My hope is to gain not only allies, but experience that can be put to practical use here in the Light lands.”

“I’m sure you can all guess which flight I represent,” the third hummed. They were lithe and pale, clothed in shimmering silks and flowers native to the Windswept Plateau. “My name is Dahlia,” they introduced, “and I’m your Wind Representative. My first task will be to establish trade routes between clans in the Twisting Crescendo and Feldspar. Crescendo clans are infamously difficult to trade with, due to the volatile nature of their home. My primary goal is to work with them to find new, safer ways to transport goods.”

The fourth was a beast of a drake. Larger than life, seemingly clothed in the reflections of stars upon the sea, he commanded the crowd’s attention. With his dark skin and deep blue eyes, there was no mistaking what land he called home.

“My name is Levi,” he said, “and I will be your Water Representative. Like Dahlia, my first task will involve trade. The Leviathan Trench is just as treacherous to navigate as the Twisting Crescendo, if not more so, and clans there suffer for it. We could gain much by lending them our aid.”

The fifth, in stark contrast, was short and thin. One could tell at a mere glance that he was ill-tempered and overworked--as a Lighting dragon should be, their Patron would claim.

“I am Volskaya,” he said, and his voice was so heavily accented that several members of the assembly exchanged confused glances. “I vill be your Lightning Representative. My first task vill be to integrate my people’s knowledge of technology and machinery into the clan. To do this, I have requested aid from Feldspar’s inventor, Hyde, and from Mettaton, who is, himself, a mechanical marvel. My goal is to make our clan more efficient in everything it does.”

“Ah, well,” Juneau said, “you all already know me. I’ve been so involved in the clan’s affairs lately...” A slight blush colored his pale cheeks. “I’m Juneau, and I’m your Ice Representative. My first task has been and will continue to be keeping channels open between Feldspar and our distant allies in the Ice lands. With the Southern Icefield being so far south of the Continent, it’s important to establish and maintain communication. I’ll appreciate any cooperation from my fellow Ice dragons.”

Next was a sleepy being, obscured by ebony smoke and purple cobwebs. When they spoke, their voice echoed with an odd and otherworldly tone, as nebulous as their shifting, shimmering form.

“I am called Silhouette,” they said, “and I am your Shadow Representative. My first task will be to gather allies for us in the Tangled Wood. We have none at present, but I know my homeland well, and it is abundant in rare resources found nowhere else. I will begin with a journey to Darkroot Garden, with Mergo as my aid.”

Just as Silhouette was cloaked in shadows and illusions, the Imperial that stepped forth in their wake was cloaked in light. He seemed to radiate it, his sun-kissed skin illuminating the very air around him. If ever a being had perfectly encompassed light, it was surely he.

“Dreamweaver chose an Imperial to represent us?” one onlooker murmured to another.

“Shameful,” the other tutted, “it should have been a Pearlcatcher.”

“My name is Dawn,” the Imperial said. “I have been given the great honor of representing our homeland. My first task will be to aid Clan Aphaster in all of its endeavors. As a new clan to our lands, they will need the guidance of those born and raised under the Lightweaver’s banner. I hope to work closely with their Light Representative, and help them adjust their clan to their new surroundings without major incident.”

“Clan Aphaster appointed a Pearlcatcher,” the first onlooker said.

“Lucky them,” the second grumbled.

Then Dreamweaver’s gaze fell upon them, cold and sharp, and the dissenters bowed their heads. “Honestly,” Dreamweaver muttered.

“We did warn Dawn there may be naysayers,” Banrai reminded.

“Even so, it hurts my heart to think that there are those among us with such needless biases,” Dreamweaver said.

Unlike his colleagues, Crucis did not mince words. “I am Crucis,” he said, “and I am your Arcane Representative. I’ll be helping Clan Aphaster tidy up the mess they made of my homeland.”

“Crucis,” Dreamweaver hissed.

“What?” Crucis blinked. “What did I say?”

“Three guesses what flight he’s representing.”

The next dragon to step forward had hair so wild that his face had long ago been buried beneath it. Vials and trinkets dangled from his sleeves, so that he clicked and clinked whenever he moved. His voice was rich and deep to match the soil of his homeland.

“My name is Keakaokalani,” he said, “and I am your Nature Representative. For now, I intend to focus on establishing inter-clan relationships with the scattered tribes of my people. We are of many cultures and beliefs, but I hope to unite us under a common desire: happiness.”

Last to step forward was Izalith. He held his head high, as he always did, dipping it only slightly when prompted by Dreamweaver.

“I am Izalith,” he said, “and I am your Fire Representative. My first task will be to negotiate peace and alliance with the Beastclans of the Volcanic Vents. Fiver and I will journey to their lands the day after tomorrow and, if we are fortunate, return with delegates from each of the clans. Allying with them will offer us a great many opportunities for expansion and trade in the future.”

As Izalith stepped back, Dreamweaver stepped forward, opening their arms wide. “So it is,” they said. “You know now who they are and what purpose they wish to serve among us. I ask that you welcome them as you have welcomed all those that came before them.”

“You can all go to bed now,” Banrai added. The crowd laughed. Dreamweaver shook their head, but smiled all the same.

“Let this mark the dawning of a new era for our clan,” Dreamweaver went on, “and let us make it an era of peace, friendship, and growth. We wish you all a good night, and that, when you dream, you dream of our future together, as Clan Feldspar.”

Slowly, the crowd dispersed, but many lingered to converse with their new Representatives, eager to learn more about the mysterious strangers they’d seen skulking about in recent months.

“They kept most of you a secret from us,” Seaglass remarked. “'Course, I knew Juneau was our Ice Representative, so I figured there had to be more, but Dreamy’s funny about things sometimes, y'know?”

“We’re sorry for keeping to ourselves so much,” Rosegold said.

“Dreamweaver feared us simply appearing and claiming to be ambassadors may not sit well with the clan,” Levi explained. “Mmm, some of us, at any rate. Juneau was accepted almost instantly.” Though his expression was stern, his eyes were gentle. “Not very good at keeping secrets, are you?”

“Is it my fault Seaglass recognized me straight away?” Juneau asked.

“Every Ice dragon knows you,” Seaglass replied, “so, no, it’s not really your fault! I’m glad you told me you were our Ice Rep, though! I might’ve actually tried to fight you if you hadn’t!”

“I--I do hope my previous actions didn’t--”

“Nah.” Seaglass waved a hand. “I spent my youth along the Frigid Floes. Too far west for you, I think.”

“That’s...” Juneau sighed. “That’s good. That was my greatest worry when Dreamweaver invited me to settle here and represent the Icefield. I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable.”

“You’re already making me uncomfortable,” Silhouette said, “you, and Rosegold, and Dawn; you’re all much too radiant for my liking.”

“We’ll take that as a compliment!” Dawn said.

“What I find curious,” Isaiah said, “is why they chose now, of all times, to appoint Flight Representatives. We’ve always done well on our own in the past, seeing as our clan is a major hub for trade in the east.” He fixed each of the ambassadors with his piercing gaze. “I don’t suppose any of you know why?”

“No,” Rosegold said, “I’m afraid we don’t.”

“All they said was that they felt it was time,” Dahlia said, “which, if you ask me, is a perfectly sound reason for appointing Flight Representatives.”

“You’re a Wind dragon,” Volskaya said, “of course something nebulous like that vould suit your tastes.”

“Is the ‘why’ really that important?” Dawn asked.

“Of course it is,” Isaiah insisted. “This is a big shift for our clan. I’ve been here since the first cycle. I know what that means.”

“You think something’s wrong?” Seaglass said.

“I know something’s wrong,” Isaiah replied.

They turned as one to watch as their founder descended from the stage. They could sense nothing amiss about Dreamweaver. They were smiling softly, conversing with Banrai in that loving way they always did. Yet, when the group returned their attention to Isaiah, the doctor was frowning severely.

“Mark me,” he said, “there’s a storm brewing.”