#its how you get people positioning themselves as better than casual fans of one of the most popular bands of the 21st century

[sendmyresignation]

i think its so bizarre when fans of bands/music which have been maligned by the churning industry of music journalism or the everyday layman's internet comment section or culture by-and-large and who shape their identity in the 'victimization' they've experienced at not being taken seriously are actually yearning for that specific kind of validation and actually dedicate energy to tracking other people's opinion instead of simply becoming confident in their own taste or status as an outsider

[wornoutmouse]

Look I wrote this for my friend but i popped the hell off with this one so if you don’t mind reading a name inbetween a few dialogue points pls read

You ran hurriedly through the halls of the school as the third bell finally rang. You had overslept and had barely made it onto the bus. Skidding to a stop, you slow down when you get to the door, catching your breath before entering. Just as you annoyingly expected, eyes dart towards you as soon as you entered, effectively catching the teacher’s attention.

 “This is the second time you are late young lady, one more time and I will have no choice but to write you up.” You smile awkwardly, “Sorry Miss, it won’t happen again.”  Ms. Bustier clicks her tongue disapprovingly as she watched her student walk to her seat, head hanging low. You sit down in your chair with a soft sigh as Ms. Bustier spoke about today’s lesson.

For the most part, you pay attention to the lesson being taught, that is until your attention is being interrupted by a pencil poking your side. From your peripheral vision, you see fluffy blond hair swaying gently to get your attention. You mutter under your breath, swiping the pencil with your hand, “Quit it Adrien I’m already in trouble.” The boy huffs but the playful aura still hung around making your skin buzz with excitement.

 Shifting in your seat, you squint your eyes at the smartboard, writing down notes every so often. Looking down once again, you notice a small piece of paper folded, You look at Adrien who boredly watched your teacher speak. Opening the paper you roll your eyes at the note inside. 

A - Late again are you Miss Mia? One more time and I might have to wake you up myself

Nibbling the tip of your pencil you write a note back, crumpling the paper before tossing it at Adrien’s head with a smirk.

You- Well maybe I wouldn’t have been so tired if you hadn’t interrupted my study time with your modeling rants

The paper is tossed back at your head, catching in your curly hair, making Adrien snort.

A- Well I can think of other ways to keep you up at night...

You cough loudly at the message, eyes darting at Adrien’s laid-back figure. You scribble down a quick snarky reply with shaking hands. You go to pass the paper but the sound of a throat clearing interrupts you. You turn to your left and are forced to look up, gulping when you notice your teacher’s signature white blazer. She holds her hand out and you reluctantly place the ball of paper in her hand.

“While I will not embarrass you by reading out your hidden messages, I will embarrass you by writing you up for detention.” Sputtering, you point an accusing finger at the smug boy behind you, “He started it first I was just..” You are hushed by a firm hand on your shoulder, “Well if that’s the case, both you and Adrien can join each other at study hall.” Adrien groans behind you and you throw a glare his way, one that he responds with a teasing wink. The sound of the bell ringing grimly reminds you of the dreadful time awaiting you in study hall after school.

 When you get thereAdrien is already there and waves you over to him. You narrow your eyes at him but sit next to him anyway. “Aww don’t look at me like that Mi, it’s not my fault you aren’t stealthy enough to pass a simple note in class.” You roll your eyes, “Well if you weren’t tossing notes like a child, we wouldn’t be here either.” Adrien laughs loudly earning a sharp look from the detention monitor. 

He mutters a silent apology as you busy yourself with a notepad and pencil. The study hall is silent and boring and 11 minutes feel like 11 hours as the clock ticks by. Adrien watches your small scribbles turn into different shapes and sizes. Before long, he notices you drawing a rather familiar face. “Whatcha drawing?” You shrug, watching your pencil make the shape of cat-like ears.

You continue drawing, briefly recognizing Adrien’s body heat as he watches over your shoulder. “You like Chat Noir huh?” Your precise pencil strokes outline the lean frame of one of Paris’s heros. While it is undoubtedly Chart Noir in a heroic setting, the way his eyes slant a little more than his mask allows and the way one of his hands rested on his chest did give way to a more seductive undertone. 

“Yeah, I think he’s pretty hot not gonna lie.” Adrien hums, the feeling of his short breaths blowing against your shoulder makes you shiver. “Really? Well, he can’t be hotter than I can he?” Adrien fluffs his hair pompously as he stretches his body lazily. “I don’t know maybe a little.” Adrien sticks his tongue out at you.

Your monitor stands up and walks towards the door before turning around, “Listen you two, I am going to get lunch, and I better see you two here when I come back or you’ll get worse than detention.” The teacher fixes you both with a long look before leaving. “They are a little stiff in the ass.” You chuckle resting your head on your palm. Adrien slouches in his chair to play on his phone, giving you the perfect opportunity to observe him. Your friend is attractive, that is something you’ve come to terms with a long time ago, hiding your crush away deep in your mind. 

“You like to stare at me when you think?” His tenor voice startles you out of thought and you realize you now have his full attention. Your face is warm and for once you are glad you couldn’t visibly blush. 

“Hey, Adrien? What did you mean by that last message you passed me in class?” You tried to pass the question off as casual but you could feel your heart racing as the room filled with daunting silence. “What do you think I meant?” 

Suddenly Adrien felt too close and the room felt smaller. When you made eye contact with him, his eyes were slanted just like Chat Noirs on your drawing. “You tell me.” You said boldly. Adrien pondered for a while, green eyes observing your features, going from your eyes, down your nose before finally resting on your plump lips. “Well, I think it meant exactly what it said.” Adrien placed a hand on your thigh, squeezing the flesh in his palm. “So tell me why you like Cat Noir?” You stare at nothing, unable to compute the absurd request that came seemingly out of nowhere.

“What?” Adrian’s hand doesn’t stop moving on your thigh, heating your skin through your jeans. “Come on Mi, humor me for a moment.” You hum softly in an attempt at calming your heart rate. “Well, I like how he seems to enjoy what he does,  saving people...” As you speak Adrien takes the time to scoot closer to you paying a sparing glance at the door your teacher left out of a moment ago. “What would you do if you met him?” His hands got closer to your inner thigh fiddling with your belt loops.

The urge to clench your legs together was immediate as the fire within you grew stronger. “I would thank him for his service and-” Adrien shushes you with the sound of your belt clinking a loose. “Let me rephrase, what do you want him to do to you?” Before you had comprehended your predicament, Adrien’s hand had found itself inside your pants.

You were sitting rigidly in your chair, lips parted in a silent exhale. Slender fingers focused themselves on your swelling bud, pressing soft circles on it in an effort to coax it out of its hood. Noting your tensed posture, Adrien tries to distract you. He’ll admit even to himself that this was a bold move on his part and he was surprised you hadn’t pushed him off at this point. “I can stop if you want me to?” You feel his fingers stop their ministrations and you quickly grab his wrist. “No!”

His concerned demeanor is quickly wiped away by a broad smirk as his fingers resumed their task. “Okay then.” He places a kiss on your shoulder through your shirt making you shiver. “You didn’t answer my question.” You nod and try to speak in a stable manner. “I would want him to- oh god!” Adrien’s fingers began to work overtime as they went down to your lips, now wet with your arousal. “I would want him to touch me there! Please.” 

Lips latched lazily on your skin, sucking hard enough for you to feel it but not hard enough for marks to be left behind. “Where is’ there’ Mia? Use your words.” Your back arched in your chair when you felt his slick index finger playfully dip inside of you before returning to your clit.  “Adrien~” Your soft moans were audible now, and every small whimper made his cock ache at the thought of being the cause of your sweet noises. Adrien mockingly hummed, “Oh I see now.”

“You want him to fuck that pretty pussy of yours don’t you?”  You make a strange noise that is a mix of surprise and a moan. You’d never think words like those could leave Adrien’s mouth. “Y-Yes!”  Adrien nodded moving to use both hands now, it was an awkward position but it was worth it seeing you fall apart by his hands. “I bet you think of him at night, kissing you slowly, while his hands roam your body.”  Adrien sinks his teeth in your shoulder blade making you jerk as a particularly hard burst of pleasure racks your body. “You look so damn sexy like this kitty cat.’

You lean forward, holding yourself up by your desk as Adrien’s fingers move faster on your clit. “I can feel how fast your heart is beating, you gonna cum?” The teasing tone in his voice ignited the smallest ounce of competitiveness within you. You grit your teeth and shake your head, “Don’t get so full of yourself Agreste.” Your eyes clenched shut at the feeling of a finger finally entering you. Adrien looked at you with narrowed eyes. He wasn’t a fan when you got competitive, especially when you were obviously bluffing.

There was a thin layer of sweat forming on your skin as your orgasm got closer. Adrien focused on the way your walls quivered around his finger. Your choked-back moans cut the air as he pumps his finger faster. Your wetness was dripping onto your underwear and around his palm making squelching noises. “Are you sure you aren’t going to cum?” Adrien whispered close to your ear taking glee when a tremor passed down your spine. Your orgasm was too damn close for him to stop so you decide to swallow your pride just this once. “F-faster, Adrien, I’m close.” Those were indeed the wrong words to say. Adrien slowed his finger down to slow pumps while his thumb pressed harshly on your clit. He laughed as he could practically feel it throbbing, “I thought you said you weren’t going to cum?” You try to grind down on his hand, bucking slightly as his rough palm stimulated your sensitive lips. “Don’t be an ass ah-fuck!”

You grip the edge of your desk as you finally cum on his hand. Your eyelids flutter and Adrien marvels that the feeling of your cunt that was squeezing him so tightly he could neither tell if it was pulling him in or pushing him out. 

You grunt as he removes his finger, when you look over at him, he is preoccupied with pulling his cock out while licking his fingers clean of your cum. Adrien whimpered around his fingers as his other hand jerked his cock sharply “Ah, you taste better than I thought.” Your eyes travel down his chest to meet his junior. It was thick and surprisingly long. You couldn’t help but feel sorrow for the angry red it was at the tip. But the vein traveling up the side made your mouth water.

His hips bucked to meet his hand desperately. Curses left his soft lips as he tossed his head back in pleasure. A deep warmth flooded your gut from the vibrant imagery of him fucking you with it. “Mia-ah shit.” You raise your head up to meet his eyes, your heart skipping a beat at how the green of his eyes was almost completely drowned by his pupils. “It’s not fair if I helped you get you off, but you won’t help me.” You scootch forward a little bit, swallowing your saliva, “What do you want me to do?” Adrien spread his legs with his hands holding the sides of his chair, “Come on Mi, I haven’t even fucked you yet and you’ve already gone dumb?” 

A hand comes on your shoulder and gently coaxes you down to your knees. You feel small as Adrien peers down at you,  gaze disrupted as his cock begins twitching in front of you. Nervousness enters your head as you quickly come to the realization of how large his dick actually was. “What, are you afraid Mia? Or do I need to get you into the mood?”  Adrien sits up straighter, “Claws out.”  Your tilt your head curious as he combs his fingers through his hair, revealing...cat ears? The sight of a green glow slithering around his body was almost as unnerving as the sight of his outfit changing right before you. 

In little as no time flat, Paris’s neighborhood hero sat in front of you in all his leather glory. His eyes seemed even greener than before, and his personality seemed to change right before you. “Adrien you’re Chat Noir!?” The blond shrugs nonchalantly, gripping his cock and slapping it against your cheek. “Mi I am all for the formalities, but I am so close to fucking your brains out right now, that I think it would be in your best interest to start sucking.” While still being conscious of your hairstyle, Adrien...Noir, pulls your head closer to his groin.

You resist the urge to scrunch your face at the feeling of precum being smeared on your mouth and chin. This resistance only makes Noir chuckle, “Stick your tongue out for me.”  As if it was routine, you do as he says and moan softly from the feeling of his tip tapping your warm muscle. “So fucking perfect for me.”  The praise makes you clench and gives you the courage to open your mouth wider. You suck on his member making him release a pleased growl. His hand laid limply on the back of your head as you take the lead.

The salty taste while slightly unpleasant, wholly addictive. Feeling your growing comfort, Adrien begins thrusting to meet your mouth. The tip of his cock goes all the way to the back of your throat making you choke before dragging back but the sounds of you struggling doesn’t dissuade him. The feeling of your tongue grazing over his vein just before your throat constricted around him drove him wild. Your tiny whimpers made his balls vibrate as he moved faster.

You place your hands on his thighs in order to stable yourself as his thrusts got more brutal. Slob collected around your mouth before dripping down your chin and finally collected by his balls every time they hit your jaw. “Fuck I’m going to cum, I’m going to cum!” Adrien’s voice pitched higher as his claws scratched into the wooden chair of his seat. His head tossed back violently as his thrusts became sloppy, legs shaking. Loud sobs left his mouth as you bright him closer to the edge each thrust is accentuated by filthy words. “Your mouth is so. fucking. Tight. Fuck Mia!”

You felt cum shoot down your throat as Adrien holds your head painfully against this crotch. He weakly thrusts into your mouth a few more times before realizing you. Gasping for air, you wipe your mouth of saliva and look up at Adrien as he catches his breath.  Rough hands grip your chin making you look up at him. “You looked wrecked Mi.” Adrien laughs as he wipes cum off the corner of your mouth.  You stand up wobbly and albeit a bit light-headed, Adrien stands with you and kisses your lips, enjoying the taste of himself in your mouth.

“We are going to finish this later.” Before your brain could even prompt you to ask, the bell rings signaling that detention was over. Adrien deactivates his miraculous before grabbing his backpack and leaving detention hall.

[itsclydebitches]

Oh I also like how the anon was like "you all keep calling us the 'Anti-rwde' or whatever" as if we are not specifically referring to a specific subsection of the fndm that specifically has labeled themselves as Anti-RWDE and has specifically used that tag so that they can make it easier to turn harassing people over Fandom opinions into a groupwide party game

So not only is anon blowing smoke when they say that YOU of all people "never post anything positive" (a straight-up lie if I ever heard one lol, you are an incredibly positive and upbeat person who clearly loves rwby and are only getting hate because certain sections of the fndm have decided to punish all who stray from the groupthink) but they're also displaying their ignorance by talking as if "Anti-RWDE" is a term we made up to describe people who casually like rwby, rather than the fact that is a label a specific group of people chose for themselves upon deciding to intentionally cyberbully and abuse total strangers because they don't like our opinions about a web cartoon.

Unfortunately, that twisted logic regarding names has been going on since the start. Though I didn’t experience the beginning of all this first-hand (since I came into the fandom a little later), my understanding of the history is basically that:

Fans posted content that existed under the hugely broad category of “negative” opinions (as every fandom does). However, unlike other communities, RWBY defined “negative” content as anything from a horrific, anti-representation rant lacking all evidence and deliberately attacking others… to someone going, “I preferred A over B and here’s an analytical examination as to why.” Anything deemed negative was considered equal, regardless of what should be the very obvious problems with that approach.

Thus, “critics” quickly became “haters” and all attempts to explain the nuances of criticism fell flat.

Purity culture reared its head, emphasizing that haters weren’t just people posting opinions on a webseries others disagreed with, but morally heinous asshole who were actively harming other fans and the creators. They were rude.

Since this is a fandom built on canonical acronyms that function as other words, they’re RWDE.

(And because they've always been haters, it's also the HTDM.)

So, after a long time of trying to explain things—no, just because one asshole is sending RT mean tweets doesn’t mean the majority of us do that; no, that rant isn’t the same thing as posts trying to deconstruct the show; no, a desire for better queer rep doesn’t make us homophobic, etc.—fans basically threw up their hands and went, “Fine! If we’re so rude to you then we’ll embrace it. We’re RWDE now. Might as well adopt the name you all keep calling us since we can’t get you to stop.”

Tumblr’s RWBY community demanded loudly that all criticism be filterable. Or better yet, removed from the site entirely. So, critics started using the RWDE tag in part so others could easily circumvent it.

Then fans got mad that the RWDE tag existed. A space dedicated solely to criticizing the show? The horror! Did you all miss the part where we really just wanted you out of the community entirely?

A lot of critics were successfully harassed into giving up on posting about RWBY, which is ironic given how often we hear the accusation that we harass others. I’ve personally never come across a RWBY fan who left the community because of RWDE. (Or, to be more specific, people who left because of actual RWDE posters. Plenty of fans will claim they were harassed by RWDE, but really they're referring to a handful of specific, bigoted assholes with no association with the rest of the sub-community and using "RWDE" as an inaccurate umbrella term for everyone in the fandom they dislike. As you put it, anon, it's a group-wide party game. "RWDE" has become the catch-all name for anyone you hate and more often than not, people ignore the legit RWDE posters going, "We don't know this person? They've never interacted with us? And we don't approve of their actions either, so why are you lumping us in with them??"). Meanwhile, I know many people who have left the community because of other fans targeting them over posting their disappointment and grievances with the series. And many more have come forward to basically say, “I never posted in the first place because I know the shit that'll get me.”

Because RWDE continued to exist, anti-RWDE then became a popular tag to combat it. They VAST majority of RWDE posters have never even interacted with the crew, but the claim that they're harassers became so ubiquitous that harassing them in turn was seen as justified. You criticized this public, paid-for product of a major corporation and posted it somewhere the creators will never see? We'll send you death threats to your personal inbox. Yes, those are absolutely the same thing.

“But you started this term,” we’ve said. “You created RWDE and then we adopted it precisely because you wanted to filter out our content. We want you to block us if you don't like this stuff. Why would you create a new tag that is specifically all about engaging with opinions you know you disagree with?”

There’s never been an answer to that because it’s really just about feeling superior and enjoying targeting the “bad people” online.

Similar stuff happened over on Reddit. A RWBY sub was made, the community decided they didn’t want anything they deemed as negative, eventually in an effort to carve out their own space/avoid the instant down-voting/appease the fans who very clearly wanted a strict separation in content, the RWBY Critics sub was created.

…and then that was used as evidence for how horrible those fans were. It's become go-to “evidence” presented to new fans as a way to deter them from going to the dark side, so to speak. “Look at how they created an entire space solely for hating on RWBY! RWBY Critics and RWDE are proof that they’re all horrible fake fans who only want to ruin others�� enjoyment.” Which, of course, misses the crucial context that from the start critics have always wanted to be a part of the main circles—I still post in “RWBY” because that’s what my posts are about—and we only created these niche, highly critical-focused spaces because others demanded that separation in the first place. However, I can't really blame new fans for buying into all that. If I came into a community and the majority immediately started warning me about this sub-group, painting them as every horrible thing under the sun (they're racist, transphobic, they hate the canonical queer rep, they're constantly harassing RT, they're the reason all these bad things have happened, etc.) ... I'd be pretty wary too. It speaks volumes that I've encountered a lot of people over the years who have gone, "I legit thought that RWDE was the devil until I was disappointed in something myself. Then I realized just how fast the rest of the community can turn on you if you criticize RWBY - even while still loving it! - and as a result I discovered that the vast majority of RWDE posters aren't like what the rest of the fandom paints them as." There are always exceptions on both sides, of course. You can find asshole RWDE posters and asshole non-RWDE posters, but on the whole RWDE is pretty extensively misrepresented and a lot of that stems from being able to push fans towards specific actions (a name, a new space, simply getting so frustrated that you explode in a private post that then breaks quarantine) and then being able to say, "See? They're so awful."

Though from what I've heard things have been better over there as of late, for a time this misrepresentation became so intense that the RWBY sub attempted a blanket ban on the critics sub, because guilt by association and all that. Luckily, the majority of the fandom realized that this was ridiculous, one step way too far, and it was revoked. But the fact that this happened at all is a good summary of how critics are often perceived in the community.

So yeah, this keeps happening. It's become a predictable cycle. Critics of all varieties are a part of the main community, they’re derided, they eventually get sick of that treatment, they carve out a space for themselves… and then that’s used as “proof” that they were always RWBY-hating assholes. You can’t win when either choice is automatically framed as wrong. The only correct choice, according to fans like that anon, is to stop engaging with RWBY entirely. Which, you know, is advice I personally don't plan to take lol.

[formulatrash]

hi! It’s totally fair if you don’t want to answer this question for whatever reason but, do you think there are any drivers in F1 that are part of the LGBTQ+ community? I don’t want to speculate on anyone’s sexuality, but it is a bit disheartening at times to see no representation whatsoever in the sport that I love so dearly... at the same time, it’s nobody’s duty to become a symbol for the community just because they’re a part of it, so I’d understand if they wanted to keep that low key, especially considering the amount of fans that would hate them for that only. It just makes me sad sometimes, not gonna lie.

I'm not gonna speculate publicly in any specific way, obviously. But statistically, it is impossible that there have never been LGBTQ+ F1 drivers - and actually there were two out ones, in Mike Beuttler (who sadly died of AIDS) and Lella Lombardi.

In other series, there are openly out drivers - in fact W Series seem to be basically incapable of stopping the drivers getting together, which is awesome and they should do it. And also kinda gives a lie to the idea rivals wouldn't.

There is a split between women's and men's sports in that basically sporting ladies seem to be like "wow, fit women time to openly drool over each other" and men being more pressured to keep it strictly no homo. It's nice that F1 drivers lately have been definitely more comfortable with being affectionate to each other and with deviating from very restrictive ideas of masculinity, although obviously that does not in any way imply their sexualities or gender status.

I think there are many reasons to be optimistic that an F1 driver could come out. Motorsport's landscape has changed - and the world, too - but of course, as you say, being the first is a sucky job and not, heh, one of the good kind.

Would they face some challenges? For sure. Some locations would be difficult - the UK, for instance, if a driver came out as trans. God, just imagining the thinkpieces from TERFs has made me nearly pass out.

I am sure there are LGBTQ+ people in the paddock beyond, whether that's in the media cohort (I mean, lmao, I am typing this why do I always exclude myself lol) or in the garages. And of course, the fans. As much as F1 talks about (even pre-pandemic) existing in its own bubble, of course it does not and while demographics are often skewed towards wealth and white western europeans, that doesn't affect the distribution of LGBTQ+ people.

Will it be godawful for the person who takes the first step? Yeah. You can't get away from the fact casual homophobia is pretty rife in F1, I'm regularly appalled by the sort of shitty jokes members of the media - who you'd think might be a bit less stuck in the jurassic period - will default to. Lots of people in F1 think they're a bit hardcore, that that's part of the image of the sport and it comes with both a strict conservatism and edgelord tendencies.

I think, with the right support, though, they'd be ok. Drivers generally have much better support systems now than ever before and god knows, it's cus they need 'em. From social media to the immediacy of reaction, everything from onboards to team radio to their Insta likes is under scrutiny and of course, that's gonna feel pretty oppressive in some ways.

(I know I hate it, as someone who gets a low-level version of it on Twitter)

But would their team or sponsors or the sport at large lose faith? No. And there would be, in the torrent of horrible stuff that's inevitable with any of these things, such support and inspiration.

It's a bit of a burden, being a figurehead and it's very easy to see why, for example, Lewis shrugged it off for a lot of his career because fuck knows, everyone's got enough to be getting on with with just the basic challenges of the career let alone having to be a representative. And it's why, with aspects you're not able to hide, people struggle - whether that's race, gender or whatever.

Living in the closet isn't a very satisfying option, though; which is the most convincing argument for how there might not have been any LGBTQ+ drivers other than the ones we know about. But it's more likely they grinned and bore it, of course. History's littered with people who never got to truly live as themselves.

It's very good having someone like Matt Bishop in a prominent role in F1. Because he can speak beyond the theoretical; that a team can welcome a gay head of communications and the paddock will have to and can work with them. That he's in a relative position of power is great because it means people can't chat shit and that means for someone without that relative power, they're protected by extension.

Who knows when more LGBTQ+ people will come along to the sport - but I think there's reason to be hopeful that they can be there.

[greenygreenland]

Dream A Little Dream of Me Pt. 2: Norman x Reader

-part 2 requested by anon

-kinda spicy??? because yeah but u can always skip that if u don’t like that stuff

-CHARACTERS AGED UP (so don’t call fbi on me lmaoooo)

MANGA SPOILERS/BRIEF MATURE CONTENT (at end)

WARNINGS: spicy/18+ (near the end, so you can SKIP if you’d like), arguing, death mentions, MANGA SPOILERS, etc.

Summary: It’s time to talk to Norman with Emma and Ray. Only issue is, he's not there yet, and his 'squad' is occupying his office.

PART 1

Time waited for no one. Its hands constantly ticked back and forth, once, twice, until you couldn’t recall how long you’d been staring at the clock. 

The first thing you did this morning was shoot out of bed and gulp down your breakfast. There wasn’t time to idly chat or greet every single one of your family members. You had a job to do, and that was to convince Norman that this 'Seven Walls’ plan was better. 

The office door stood before you like a timed bomb. It towered over you, made you feel small and helpless. What if you were too late? What if there was nothing you could do?  

An uneasy smile twitched on your lips. You had to stay solid for Ray and Emma. They relied on you, and you couldn’t let them down. “Ready?” 

Their eyes were bright with resolve you didn’t seem to have. 

“Yes.”

“’Course!”

Why were you so nervous? Just look at them, they were so confident that Norman would listen. But of course your Norman would listen, right? He wasn’t the type to brush you off or act all high and mighty. He was sweet, considerate, and wonderful. 

You sucked in a sharp breath to steel yourself. “Nor--?”

Three heads turned to stare as you opened the door. One was a woman with curly hair, another a tall guy in a suit, and the last one, a guy in a military vest.

Norman wasn’t at his desk.

The three strangers sat sprawled throughout the room. Two on either couches, and one in the back. Crumbs lay on the coffee table where stray pieces of wrapping fluttered about. A tea cup sat a little ways away from the wrappings, still steaming and piping hot. They had to have been here for quite some time. The lady raised a brow and glanced at the tall guy behind her. “Who are they?”

You and Ray kept straight faces. 

“Nice to meet you,” he said. “I’m Ray.” Emma tried for a wobbly smile. “I’m Emma and this is (Y/n). We come from shelter b-zero-six-three!” You glanced at your companions, then back at the three adults in your path. The lady turned to the guy behind her again and asked another question, but you weren’t listening.

What were they doing here? Most importantly, were they dangerous? Sure, Norman trusted them (they were in his office after all), but was that enough reason for you too? He was revered as a god here, you reminded yourself. It wouldn’t be out of the park if he acted differently around these people. 

“Where is...the ‘Boss’ at the moment?” you respectfully inquired. The guy in the vest adjusted his position on the couch. He swung his feet off the coffee table dramatically and said, “The Boss is out of the office right now. He’s on urgent business.” 

You frowned. That didn’t sound good. “We’ll come back then. Talk can wait.” you decided. “Let’s--”

The vest guy stood up and the lady followed. Your chest tightened as he slowly turned to meet your eye. “No, wait a second.” He placed a hand on Ray’s shoulder and the lady set a hand on either side of you and Emma. They smiled, but it wasn’t a nice smile. “Why don’t you stay for tea?” the lady inquired. They steered you over to the couch and plopped you all together one after the other. 

You didn’t like where this was going. Urgent business? What could be so urgent that Norman would decide to leave so early in the morning? You folded your arms over your chest in thought. 

It's been taking me a little longer than expected to set it in motion. 

Norman mentioned a bit about his plan last night, but not in full detail. You recalled the brief mentions of a poison, as well as the obvious portion of genocide and degeneration of demons. But what else did he say?

I've decided to officially start tomorrow.

Your frown tightened and your fist clenched. Of course he would go out of his way to start the plan as soon as possible. He didn’t need distractions, much less people against his will. You remembered the smile he forced onto his lips. It was wry, and hollow, and fake, and everything that he wasn’t. 

Fortunately, I've always been pretty good at getting what I want.

You wanted to be angry--no, livid--yet the aching in your heart said otherwise. Norman did everything in good faith. All he wanted was to save everyone without spilling a single drop of blood. But did he realise the guilt he’d have to carry once his plan was complete? Did he realise how much blood would stain his hands?

You heaved in a subtle breath to compose yourself. “So,” you began. “What did you wish to speak about?” Vest didn’t seem to welcome your presence. He planted an arm on the coffee table and leaned across with that stare that could burn straight through you. 

The lady, on the other hand, sat at the edge of the couch with that giant piece of meat in her hand. You wondered if that was actually some regular type of meat. It was far too large to be a pig, much less a wild animal.

Was it just you, or were these guys kind of creepy?

“I’m Cislo,” Vest firmly announced. “That’s Barbara. That Egghead over there is Vincent.” The tall guy, or Vincent, poured three cups of tea. He silently made his way over and set them on the table. You politely nodded his way and picked up the cup, taking a good, long sip. 

Until you were sure these people could be trusted, you decided it best to stay quiet.

Cislo leaned farther over the table. You instinctively took another sip of tea. “Emma, Ray, and (Y/n), right? From Grace Field?” Ray was about to answer, but Cislo interrupted. “We’re escapees too y’know!” He hastily jumped up and planted a firm foot on the coffee table. “And for the record, our escape was way better. We kicked that farm’s ass!”

You slowly nodded with false amusement. “Is that so?” Vincent adjusted his glasses almost apologetically. He was the calmest out of all his companions, as well as the most polite. “Right.” He sounded distasteful. “You guys feel the need to childishly compete all the time... Please, accept my humblest apologies.”

Ray rolled his eyes. “Nah, you guys are amazing. Absolutely incredible. Show-stopping. It’s not like we could have done better, bra-vo.” You snickered behind your teacup and fist-bumped under the coffee table. He was trying to make you smile because he knew you were tense. And it worked. 

You took another sip of tea and glanced over the rim. From the corner of your eye, you spotted a mark peeking out at the top of Barbara’s tank top. Norman had the same one right on his chest. These three weren’t normal people, weren’t they? 

“Excuse me,” Emma said with a bright smile, “thank you so much for yesterday!” Oh right, you thought. Vincent was the the guy who treated Cristy and Dominics. “Yes,” you added. “Thank you, Vincent.” He returned Emma’s smile in a calmer manner and nodded. “The boss let me know about that. I wish the best for them.”

Emma’s smile brightened like the sun. “Thanks!” 

The back of your neck tingled uncomfortably. Barbara’s stare was creepy, and it didn’t help that Cislo had joined in. Ray and Emma inched closer to your sides.

“That’s well and all,” Barbara started, “but we’d like to know!” Cislo eagerly nodded. He leaned farther across the table and you inched backward into the couch. “Yeah, how about you tell us? What you wanted to talk about with that guy...” 

You raised a brow. “’That guy’?” 

The air thinned out as quick as one could say ‘Quidditch’. A bashful grin broke out on Barbara’s lips and her face went red as a cherry. “The boss of course!” she cried. “Minerva James!” She said ‘Minerva James’ like he was a god. Cislo mimicked Barbara’s bashful expression. “What did you want to talk about with...Nor--‘Norman’, is what you guys called him?” 

You didn’t have the strength to be question them. 

“Even if you try to hide it, you idiots love the boss.” said Vincent. Barbara rolled her eyes. “Shut up! You love everything he does too!” Vincent turned to you, Ray and Emma. “Because you’re long time friends of the boss, they can’t stop themselves from being nervous.”

Ah, so these three were Norman’s fan club. You scoffed to yourself.  

Cislo rounded on Barbara and Vincent with a newfound energy (seriously, where did that come from?). “I mean, aren’t you curious?” he inquired, clenching a fist in the air all dramatically. “When we came back from morning patrol, they were all making a fuss upstairs. Yesterday, the boss was a totally different person!” He clasped the sides of his head with a shout. “I thought, ‘what’s up with that’! I got super curious, and turns out, you guys are super good friends!”

Cislo stamped a foot down on the coffee table again. “What kinda guy is this ‘Norman’?” Barbara mimicked his elated expression. “Yeah, tell us!”

You glanced at Emma and she smiled as amiably as always. “Well, he hasn’t changed that much since back then.” She elbowed you. “Tell them!” You knitted your brows in confusion. “Tell them what?” She giggled and Ray playfully smirked. “That you’re his girlfriend.” 

“GIRLFRIEND?!” Cislo and Barbara screeched. 

You sent Ray a subtle glare, to which he smugly shrugged off. It was clear that he purposely said that to get a kick out of Barbara and Cislo. What a total--

“So you’re his girlfriend?” Vincent questioned, casually pushing his glasses up. “I didn’t think the boss would be ‘that type’.” You raised a brow. “What do you mean by that?” Vincent smiled and it was almost playful. 

“Well?” Barbara expectantly inquired, resting her chin in her palms. “What’s he like? As a boyfriend I mean?” 

You thought for a moment. Norman was kind, sweet, and gentle. He knew how to cheer you up when you were down, and he was a great cook. Sometimes, he thought too much about the little things, or became secretive and changed the subject. Sure it could be troublesome to bother with that, but it was just who he was. 

And you loved him for him.

“Norman is so soft and kind,” you began, “he’s smart too and smiles so sweetly. I’ve never met anyone else like him in my life.” A fond sigh left your lips that hung in the air. Just by looking at you, everyone could tell how unconditionally your love was. You were more than just his girlfriend, you were two halves of a whole. 

“He smiles sweetly?” Barbara echoed. Cislo blinked in disbelief. “‘Soft’?” They glanced at each other before bursting into a fit of laughter. You knitted your brows together questioningly. “Is he that different?”

“Stiff.” said Barbara.

“Cold.” answered Vincent.

“An emperor.” added Cislo.

That wasn’t a surprise to you, but for your siblings, it was earth-shattering. Ray spat out his tea and Emma let out a ‘WHAAAAAT’ that could have reached the heavens. Then Ray chuckled, and that turned into a stifled snicker. 

“So he’s stiff and cold?” you muttered, placing a hand to your chin in thought. Barbara nodded. “Yeah, kind of like how you were before we started talking about the Boss.” 

You almost chocked. Was it plausible that Norman took after your rock-solid façade while running this revolution? Logically speaking, it was normal, smart even, to make yourself known as an unshakable being. That was why you walked into this room full of strangers as quietly as you could. It gave you time to observe and figure out the little details in untested waters. 

And because you stayed headstrong and cool, others followed your example. 

Sometime in the conversation, Ray shared embarrassing stories about Norman with the occasional pitch from you or Emma. Seeing Ray and Emma smile over the old memories made you relax just a bit. It was refreshing to think about something other than fifty ways to save the world. The trivial, the peace, the mundane. Yes, you missed that.

A smile etched itself onto Barbara’s lips. “So even a long time ago, the boss was cool.” she noted. “Thanks, it was nice to hear so much about him.” You almost smiled at her. She and Cislo were nice to be around when they weren’t all up in your personal space. 

“He’s a good man.” Vincent stated. “He cares for his companions.” A grin broke out onto Cislo’s lips. “Not with a sweet smile or softly though. For the sake of all of us, he works without sparing any time to sleep. He saved us and made use of this ‘power’ we all have.” 

You carefully watched the way he and his companions shifted. As Cislo explained his time in Lambda, silence fell upon everyone’s shoulders. Lambda was far worse than any hell. Mass production was commonly practiced, and it worked to the benefit of the demons and doctors who worked there. Experimentation day by day. New medicine. New pills and syringes.

The very thought of that place made your skin crawl.

“He was a twleve-year-old brat,” Cislo stated. “But it was like I saw a god.” 

There was that word again. 

“The boss constructed a plan,” he added. “And the four of us, including Zazie, executed it. Until now, all five of us have been destroying and freeing the farms. It’s like I told you! We’re amazing.” His eyes carried a dark glint you didn’t like. “You don’t have to worry.” 

Oh, but you did worry. Not just for Norman, but the world he wanted to make reality. That look Cislo shared with his companions didn’t help. It was bloodthirsty. It was dark and filled with a deep hatred that sent shivers down your spine. They wanted this revolution, this chance for revenge, and they wanted it now.

“With the boss’s perfect plan and our power, victory will definitely be ours.” Cislo stared off into a horizon you didn’t care to see. “I can’t wait to kill every last one of them.” He broadly grinned. “Every time I kill a demon, I get this real nice feeling in my chest.” Barbara stared at the bare bone in her hand. “Me too. Whenever I eat meat from demons we kicked, this nauseous feeling just goes away.”

You stared at the bone with wide eyes. That wasn’t a ridiculously large leg without a reason. Demon meat. It was demon meat.

Ray followed your gaze uneasily. “Uh...then that meat you just had was demon meat?”

“You must be surprised!” she exclaimed. “I wonder if it was an employee from that mass-production farm we slammed the other day. It makes me sick, us being cattle to them. Even now, I still can’t forget.” She gripped the bone so tighty that her knuckles turned white. “Their eyes...that pain...that agony every. Single. Day.” 

She stood straight and bared her teeth. “Everyone here has the same enemy, but just killing them isn’t enough for me. I’ll slaughter them all and the Ratri clan!”

Emma pursed her lips together with wide eyes. Everyone in the room could see the blatant fear etched in her bright eyes. She worried, not just about the chaotic way Barbara pranced around with the bone, but for what was yet to come. If everyone else in the hideout were like Barbara, then would any of you stand a chance with fixing Norman’s estranged plan? 

The woman’s gaze sharply flickered from yours to Emma’s. “What’s with that face?” she demanded. “Are you sympathising with the demons Emma? Aren’t you happy?” 

Barbara leapt on the table. Her heel dug into the wood with an inhuman amount of strength. “I find it hard to believe that you wouldn’t want to kill the demons. You’re cattle. They don’t care about you!” 

She ripped her gaze from Emma’s and met your own. You kept a straight face and stared right back with stone-cold eyes. “Oh, and that ‘talk’ you wanted with the boss.... I bet you were going to spew something like ‘change the plan’, weren’t you? How dare you betray us like that? If you think you’ll change his mind just because you’re his--!”

“Barbara!” called Cislo. “Stop it, you’re breaking the table.”

“--I don’t care who you are. Demons should be exterminated! Every single one of them until we’re the only ones left!”

“Barbara!” Cislo’s eyes were cold and dark. “Stop it.” His goal wasn’t to save anyone from unnecessary conflict, only to protect the poor table under Barbara’s boot. You eyed the table uneasily. Chestnut wood splintered and peeled against itself, burying the thick demon bone in broken chips. When Barbara begrudgingly stepped off the table, a clear dent sat where her boot had been. The poor table was helpless.

Just like you. 

Would convincing Norman be enough? If his followers didn’t see eye to eye with your ideals, then a new plan risked ripping the whole resistance apart. 

You steadily rose from the couch and smoothed down your skirt. “Thank you for the tea and the pleasant conversation.” Your voice was silky smooth. “I think it’s time we got off your backs.” You turned to leave.

“If you’re still thinking about changing the Boss’s plan, then I believe it’s time to reconsider.” Vincent announced. “You can’t stop it, it’s too late for that.” 

You paused in your step and glanced over your shoulder. For a moment, you were unrecognizable. You weren’t (Y/n) anymore, or that Grace Field kid from bunker B-zero-six-three. You were another player, another great mind in this sick game of chess. 

“Is that so?” you coolly inquired. “Well it so happens that working until the very last minute is a special skill of mine. The ‘Boss’ decided to hasten this ‘perfect’ plan, yes? Where is he?” 

The way you looked at everyone rubbed Vincent in the wrong way. It was like you were on a completely different level, cattle or not. You didn’t care what position you stood in because you would get it done, and for that reason, you were on a pedestal higher than Vincent and the rest. 

“The Boss went to meet them,” he slowly replied, “the demons.” 

You nodded in thanks. He knew that look, the one where your eyes glinted and shone with a quiet roar. There was only one other person whom you shared that look with, one other man who had those same, calculating eyes.

Yes, Vincent thought. You had the same eyes as the Boss.

-----

You hated waiting. After being on the run or constantly fighting to walk step after step, it didn’t feel natural to stand around and wait the day away for Norman to arrive. And so you sat in the hospital wing with Ray and Emma, staring at the sleeping face of Christy, who had yet to wake up.

Waiting was excruciating.

“Are you okay (Y/n)?” 

You met Emma’s worried eyes. They watered with unshed tears, as if she already knew the answer even if you wouldn’t acknowledge it yourself. You forced a comforting smile to your lips and gently squeezed her hand. You had to be strong. “Don’t worry,” you said, “everything is perfectly fine.” 

Ray snorted to himself. “You’re a really bad liar.” You shifted in your chair uncomfortably and slowly met his eyes. “No I’m not.” Ray huffed. “If you’re a good liar, then why did you act so cold around Vincent and the others? You only do that if you think it’s necessary, like the time we first met Yuugo.”

You shrugged absentmindedly. “Sometimes, it’s to let people know I mean business. The way Barbara talked to Emma wasn’t okay, but if I started an argument it would’ve made things worse.” Emma knitted her brows together. “So you acted distant instead?”

“Precisely.” 

Ray huffed again, this time more dramatically than the last. He was about to say something else, but a voice cut through the air. Norman was back. Norman was back.

In no time, you three caught up to him in his office. 

“Sorry for bothering you as soon as you got back.” you half-heartedly muttered. Ray sent you a curious glance you shrugged off. Norman kept his gaze to the window behind his desk and removed his heavy cloak. You watched the way he shifted from foot to foot. There was a sluggishness in his step so subtle that if you blinked a second too soon, you wouldn’t have seen it.

“You wanted to talk?” Norman inquired, keeping his back to the window. Emma made her way over to the couch with a nod. “Yeah, about a lot of things.” You and Ray followed, settling side-by-side. A ‘lot of things’ had to be the biggest understatement you’d ever heard. There were a few points in your new plan that needed to be addressed, and you were sure a five-minute talk wouldn’t suffice.

Ray folded his hands together. “But before that (Y/n) and I would like to know...” He sharply stared at Norman’s back. “What kind of plan do you have to ‘exterminate the demons without losing a single person’? Is it a civil war?” 

Norman whipped around and snapped his fingers. “That’s right!” he exclaimed. “You both always catch on so quickly.” The way he smiled in congratulation reminded you of your time at the House.

You were eleven again. Grace Field’s forest surrounded you on all sides, and Norman and Ray stood only a little ways away from you. They were arguing about something you couldn’t quite hear, and that was because you weren’t meant to hear it in the first place. Ray had yanked Norman by the collar so harshly that he stood on his tippy toes.

You didn’t understand why Ray had been so angry. Norman was just trying to figure out the best path to safety. It was for the future of not just you, Ray, and Emma, but for your family. All of them. 

Everything suddenly clicked. Ray had been angry at Norman because he had done something stupid just like now. Sure, it was smart, but was it worth the risk? Was it worth all the trouble to reach the goal he wanted?

Norman’s lips moved, but you couldn’t hear him. 

Objectively speaking, his plan was genius. A civil war utilising the demon clan Giran? There wasn’t a flaw in sight. No rips to break and no disruption between each consecutive step. The Giran clan didn’t care for humans, and the humans didn’t care for the Giran. It was an equivalent exchange. 

According to an old book you read, ‘humankind cannot gain anything without giving something in return. To obtain, something of equal value had to be lost’.

In this case, that toll was the Giran clan. They would face their demise as soon as they clashed heads with the Regent Homes, leaving Norman and his team time to poison the helpless citizens of the Neverland.

But that wouldn’t work, not when demons like Mujika and Sonju existed.

“Norman,” you said. “Do you know about the demons who don’t regenerate despite not eating human flesh? If your plan succeeds, then you’ll have to find a way to deal with them.” Ray nodded in agreement. “Yeah, if there are a lot of demons out there who don’t need to eat humans, your plan will fail from the onset.”

The room went unbearably quiet. 

Norman placed a hand over his face in thought, and it was then that you realised just how desperate he was. “How...how do you guys know about that?” You frowned. That wasn’t an answer you expected. “Why do you say that?”

Norman began by explaining the differences in demon social statuses, then the whole ‘hunt’ for this ‘Evil Blood Maiden’, or Mujika. “They don’t know how we’ll revolt,” Norman thoughtfully said. “And it would be trouble for them if we got caught by the Ratri clan since you know their whereabouts.” 

He paused. 

“We need to track down and kill them.”

Your heart stopped. Kill Mujika and Sonju? You couldn’t do that. They saved your family when you all could have been left for the wild demons to eat you alive. They taught you all how to survive and thrive when you were all alone.

“Wait!” cried Emma. “Sonju and Mujika are our friends! They’re fine--they're our saviours--our friends! If we used their blood, then we wouldn’t have to worry about...about...” You placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and turned to Norman. His eyes danced with a dangerous light. 

“I agree with Emma. Not just because they haven’t done anything wrong, but because they could be the solution.” You wrung your hands together. “Your plan is perfect, I admit. It doesn’t have a single flaw, but it��s not...right. We’ve thought of something that could work, something that doesn’t involve killing everyone.”

That look in Norman’s eye intensified. It held a quiet flame, yet burned brighter than any fire could. “Who’s to say what’s right and wrong?” he slowly inquired. “(Y/n), you know full well that this world isn’t as simple or kind as any of us hoped it to be. They’re demons, right?”

You saw Cislo and Vincent and Barbara in his eyes. They all had that same look, that same hatred for their hunters. But if only they saw what you saw. If only they hadn’t been to Lambda and met Mujika and Sonju instead.

“Don’t you think we should close our mouths and watch them go extinct?” Norman grimly added. “Do you think you can forgive them for what they’ve done?”

No, you couldn’t forgive them. Not after seeing Conny’s body in the back of the truck. Not after what happened to Yuugo and Lucas and all your other friends. The demons made you and your family suffer. 

Your throat constricted. 

You almost died by their hand more times than you could count too! But how could you blame them? How could you hate them all from the bottom of your heart when you saw the vast majority for what they really were?

Your fist clenched.

Demons had families too. Just like you. They struggled to survive. Just like you. They did nearly anything to make sure their kind lived to see another sunrise. Just like you. Most demons ate to live. Just like you. 

You shot out of your seat and threw a hand out. “You can’t kill a whole race!” 

Norman’s eyes widened. It was rare for you to lose your cool, much less, shout during a conversation. This time, you couldn’t do that, not when Emma’s eyes were sad and glossy, and not when Ray relied on you to make the right decision. 

You paused and thickly swallowed, gingerly fiddling with the hem of your skirt.

“You can’t just...you can’t just kill a whole race.” you echoed. “That’s genocide. Will you be able to sleep knowing that your hands will be stained with the blood of thousands? Millions?! History always repeats itself no matter where you go or what world you escape to! Why do we have to take vengeance when we could be the bigger people? Genocide won’t bring back the dead and it won’t solve anything either!”

“(Y/n),” Norman muttered, intertwined his hands with yours. “Has this been on your chest the whole time?” You nodded and he looked at you like you were far away. “Even if we do give the demons their blood, what guarantee will we have that they won’t come eat us anyway? The king and nobility have been doing this for the past seven hundred years, the same goes for Giran.” 

He released your hands and averted his gaze to the splintered coffee table. “If you were told not to eat (f/f), would you say, ‘understandable, have a great day’? You might have that self-control, but the demons don’t because they can’t sympathise with us. We are the prey, and they are the hunters.”

You heaved in a deep breath to steel yourself. “Then let’s run away, all of us beyond the Seven Walls to reforge the Promise!” Norman’s jaw went slack and he stared at you, baffled to silence. “Even though we don’t know what the human world has to offer? We don’t know if they’ll accept us or if we’ll have safe entry. How can you bet everyone’s fate on that?” 

Norman eyed the way you tightly gripped the hem of your skirt. He sucked in a sharp breath, as if what he was about to say would be the hardest thing he’s ever. “(Y/n),” he softly said. “You have to think realistically. Genocide or not, the world doesn’t care about what’s right or wrong. You, more than anyone, should know that.”

He was right again. You knew how cruel the world was because you were able to keep needless emotions from rushing to your head. You were cynical. You were tough. But that was only because you needed to be for your family. They looked up to your strength and your decisive decisions that always led them to victory. 

“If we don’t wipe out the demons,” Norman stated, “there won’t be a future where our family can smile.”

You firmly shook your head. “No, that’s no true. Ray said the same thing when we were at Grace Field, didn’t he? He thought only you, Emma, and I would be able to escape, but in the end, we took all the older kids with us. We survived this long, not because we cared about probabilities, but because we saw the path before us!” You needed him to understand--no, you were begging him to.  “It’s there, so why can’t you...why can’t you see what I’m seeing?”

Norman silently stood. His gaze left your own as he placed a hand to his chin in thought. “I don’t see any hope in this plan,” he honestly stated, “but for the sake of this argument, let’s concede and say that we can cross over to the human world and so on.” 

You heaved out a relieved sigh. At least he was considering. 

“Even then, the part about the Seven Walls is unclear.” He continued to explain a few different points, some you could dispute and others you had no answer to. But by the end of it, you were feeling great. There was hope.

“We’ve already found a way to reach the Seven Walls a year and a half ago.” you matter-of-factly said. “We have everything we need, and when the conditions are met, we can go at anytime.” Norman’s jaw dropped. “You--you found it?”

You nodded. “Yes. But like you said, there are a lot of uncertainties, so if you still need more constants before stopping the plan, then I’ll go and figure out the rest.” Norman’s eyes widened. “Wait, what?”

You intertwined your hands with his and gave them a good squeeze. “If I come back and reforge the Promise, then you will have no choice but to stop the extermination of all demons.” He knitted his brows together in alarm. “Wait a minute.... What is this about ‘if’ you come back?”

“Regarding the risks,” Ray noted, “right now, we’re only aware of two things. We know how to get in, but not how to get out. It appears that most who went there never returned so--”

“WHAT?!” Norman cried, staring between you, Emma, and Ray. “What kind of crazy--that’s too dangerous!” You gently patted his cheek. “Well, if I don’t go, then you’ll have to carry a burden too big for your weak shoulders, right?” You giggled and it was like music to his ears. “We talked about this yesterday, and we’re all ready to go.” 

Norman gave your hands a shake. “How does that make it okay?!” You offered a comforting smile. “If the first Ratri did it, then so can we. Even though we don’t know it now, we’ll find it. We want to stop this extermination, right?”

Emma and Ray nodded. 

“So let us carry a bit of your burden.” A brief frown settled on your lips that didn’t slip past Norman’s line of view. “I told you this once and I’ll say it again: You don’t have to be a god and you don’t have to do everything on your own either. We’re here, right? So rely on us.” 

You wrapped your arms around his middle and pulled him close. “And for the record,” you whispered, “I know you’re hiding something.” Your breath fanned across his neck and he shivered. “You’re such a naughty boy, you know that?”  You pulled away. 

Norman’s wide eyes narrowed deviously as a soft smile rose on his lips. He made his way over to Emma and Ray, patting their shoulders amiably. “Be careful. I can count on you all to take care of each other, right?”

“Of course.” said Ray. 

“No duh, Norman.” Emma added.

“What she said.” you pitched in. 

Norman’s smile warmed as he led Emma and Ray towards the door. “That’s great to hear,” he said. “I promise to bring (Y/n) back before dinner.” Ray’s brows shot up. He let out a small ‘oooo’ and steered Emma out of the office at the speed of light. “We’ll stay out of your way then.” 

The door creaked close and the lock clicked in place. Norman slowly turned to meet your eye. “What was that you said earlier?” he lowly inquired, loosening his tie. “About me being a ‘naughty boy’?” It was hard to fight the heat spreading throughout your body when he looked at you like that. Like you were a glass of water to quench his thirst. Butterflies rose in your stomach and your breath caught in your throat. 

He was so alluring, so freaking hot that it made you freeze in place. Norman’s lips twitched up into a sly smirk, and it was then that you realised he was enjoying this.

Norman liked the way you got all flustered. He liked the way your cheeks flared up with red. And he loved the way you struggled to keep a straight face. There was mischievous glint reflecting in his eyes as he placed his tie on the couch and strode right over to you. 

Gosh, you wanted--no--needed him. Now.

You were practically panting for air and Norman hadn’t even laid a finger on you. He set your heart ablaze with a single glance and knew how to make you feel all lightheaded in the best way possible.

You paused in your step and your back hit the wall. Gosh dang it, why did you fall for that again? 

"You can't think straight." Norman noted, caressing your cheek. "But that's okay. You're always in good hands." Your breath hitched and Norman chuckled. It was low, it was attractive, it was hot. How could a cutie like him act like this when you were alone? Not even you could have expected this type of unexpected, not that it mattered though. After all, Norman knew how to treat you right.

“You’re so adorable.” he said, resting a cool hand on your thigh. “I wonder what will happen if I...?” You shivered under his light touch. How dare he act so cool. How dare he make you gasp and lean further back into the wall. His touch made your cheeks burn and your lower regions go warm. He gave your thigh a squeeze just to watch you gasp again. 

"N-Norman..." you moaned.

He smiled.

"You like that, don't you." His breath fanned across your cheeks. "You won't be able to stay quiet for long. I'll make sure of it." He leaned into you and your lips connected. The kiss was sweet and warm, but far from innocent. The bastard knew exactly how to make your knees buckle and your breath hitch. Somehow, it made you want more of him.

He bit at your lip and you yanked him closer. Kissed him harder.

Norman found himself snaking a hand under your shirt. He trailed over your sides with a gentle touch that made your back arch and your insides tingle. You liked it--no, you loved it. To have his hands on you and his body practically glued to you...

What more could you ask for?

Norman placed a hand on the top of your collar. "May I?" You nodded and he skillfully unbuttoned your shirt. As he pulled it over your shoulders, you squeezed your thighs together. You were wet. That much you just knew.

"Am I that irresistible?" Norman inquired. He didn't let you respond. Instead, he undid the clasp on your bra and gave your breasts a good flick. Norman watched the way you breathily inhaled.

You were so, so beautiful. An absolute masterpiece.

He experimentally fondled your breasts, squeezing and groping. If it could get any hotter in here, then you were sure it would've been a hundred degrees.

He didn't seem to mind though. Instead, he sucked in a short breath with a satisfied smile, as if your moans were the only thing he wanted to hear.

Norman's lips slammed into yours. He licked your bottom lip and you moaned. Moaned. Norman's cheeks reddened. He suddenly realised just how far he had gone. In the heat of the moment, none of you were able to register the fact that you were half-naked, or that Norman was dominant as fuck.

Don’t forget to reblog (do it for Norman!)

"You have such a gorgeous voice,” Norman slyly said. "Can you do that again?"

PART THREE

TIP JAR

[anthonycrowleymoved]

I know this is old discourse but in light of destiel becoming canon, what are your thoughts on neil gaiman not allowing Crowley and Aziraphale to be gay lovers? He said that they're angels, not men, so is that supposed to imply that they're not gay simply cuz they're non-binary (so they're asexual)? I just wanna know if they'e in love or not lol. I ship them so much.

yeah okay this is gonna have to be tagged neil discourse because thinking about this over a year later i’m still mad huh

so like. i know very well what he said at the time. he was basically like, and i’m paraphrasing but that’s because i simply do not care enough to give a direct quote but on twitter he was like ‘oh well angels don’t UNDERSTAND human concepts like GENDER and SEXUAL ATTRACTION so NO they’re NOT GAY’ and then someone was like ‘but they’re in love right?’ and he was like ‘of course.’ right? everyone agrees that’s what happened right after the show aired? and like, okay, i’m not going to begrudge people seeing this as representative of themselves if they’re nb and/or ace, that’s cool and fine, and you do you. i find it interesting that i saw a ton more criticism about it on here than on twitter, but that’s probably just more indicative of who i’m following and how much i’m on here than anything else. anyway.

let’s break this bullshit down and explain piece by piece why i think neil’s quote unquote representation in gomens is a hot garbage fire and why it kind of rubbed me the wrong way from the moment i saw it.

1. he posted it on twitter. he wrote the script and could have like, you know, put it into the show, if them being In Love was like, actually part of the story. he had the ability to do that. gomens was already going to piss off right wing groups because of how it treats religion, this wasn’t something i legitimately think amazon/the beeb would have just said ‘no’ to if neil was serious about it. mean, maybe that’s a bit far into conspiracy territory, but i truly believe if they really wanted to make azcrow canon the one person who could have managed getting a scene would have been the author/showrunner. and because he didn’t if you’re a casual viewer who’s not fucking following his goddamned twitter seeing gay representation is now a rorschach test

‘they don’t adhere to human ways of thinking about gender and sexuality’ MANY THOUGHTS HERE but let’s start with

2. i think hallie originally said this and neil i know you wrote the book but like. did you read the book neil. because i thought one of the main points of it was that aziraphale and crowley had effectively ‘gone native’ and saw themselves more like humans than like celestial beings. and they’d been on earth for all of human history. it’s a bad take i’m sorry i know he literally wrote it but like really. really.

3. look i’m nb and i’d love some nb rep. but that was not nb rep. those were two cis male actors playing (largely) male presenting characters with absolutely no in-text indications that they aren’t cis. there’s one (a few? god it’s been a minute since i watched the show) character referred to by singular ‘they’ and it’s not aziraphale or crowley. and like, look, i get that in real life there’s nb people who don’t go by gender neutral pronouns and that’s cool and fine because that’s what those people feel inside. but, like, this isn’t real life, it’s a tv show, and referring to male presenting characters as he/him and then occasionally putting them in feminine clothing isn’t representation because people who aren’t looking for that kind of representation aren’t going to see it, they’re going to see a joke about a man in a dress

4. and i’m not ace so i can’t speak on that, but i do remember at the time ace people being like ‘that....was not ace rep’ so like, make of that what you will. again, i’m not going to tell you you can’t see them as nb and/or ace, but like, i’m just asking you, was that really representation? like, was it? in your heart like, would you have been happy with that representation if neil didn’t tell you it was representation? because if you’re just starved for content, that’s FINE, you’re ALLOWED, all i’m asking you is to not praise the creator for doing fuck all.

5. ‘of course [they’re in love]’ again where??? where??? where is it neil. where is it in the actual text of the show. like there’s in text evidence that they love each other platonically and there’s lots of jokes made by other characters but like. i hate to say that but that’s it. i don’t know why this off the cusp response still makes my blood boil but boy does it

6. i don’t want to go looking for it because i’ve done that like six times but there’s a post on neil’s tumblr from before the show dropped about how there would be moments that people who ship it would be happy with but it wouldn’t become canon. you can look it up i swear he said that in like....december of 2018ish? something like that. which, again, is fine on its own, but combined with the fact that after he was like ‘lmao that’s what i was going for’......not my favorite look

what i’m saying is like, if he wanted to create an actual queer narrative he could have but he just like, chose not to and then when he realized he could have people watching his show just because they’re thirsty for representation that isn’t there i think he went ‘oh i’ll jk rowling this’ i don’t KNOW that that’s what happened but, like, that’s what it looks like to me.

i used to regularly refer to the “representation” in gomens as nu-queerbaiting, which i still like as a term, because to me it’s the person in charge (not the actors, usually, unless they have some say in the writing process) going, oh no they’re totally in love with each other totally trust me :) and then like, they’re not, not really, not to the people who like, watch the show but don’t fucking follow the author on twitter. and that’s. i’m sorry, that’s not canon to me.

and, to be honest, how this is presented honestly makes me more angry than if it was just maybe in-universe wink wink nudge nudge, because i’m USED to queerbaiting and i know that like, almost nothing ever ever ever comes of it and i get it and i like having fun anyways, so i deal. and like, i was a book fan before the show came out. the book was written in the late 80s, and i knew that it wasn’t going to be anywhere near as gay as the fandom has made that work for thirty goddamned years, and i was fine with that. like, going into it, i joked, but it was fine because it was a relatively faithful adaption of a book i like. i wasn’t looking for gay representation, even though i ship aziraphale and crowley.

but like, there was this wave of people who came looking for representation, and the show is so vague on that concept that they saw it, but it’s like. it’s not actually really there. there’s no one saying ‘yes they’re really irl in love.’ there’s two male-presenting characters who COULD be in love, if you choose to view it like that, but maybe aren’t. and like, that’s FINE, on it’s own, but i hate that someone in a position of power said ‘no you’re right lmao’ even though he didn’t do shit. it was made in 2019. queer representation should be better than that. i’m not patting neil on the back for doing literally nothing.

so like, tldr: yeah the rep is bad in my opinion!!! it’s not good!!!! i don’t like how neil handled it and it’s gross!!!! i hope this answers your question!!!!

anyway that being said azcrow is such a good ship anyway, so like, why does it matter if they’re canon? ship em anyways no one can stop me from doing it even though how it was handled by the actual creator is a garbage fire when you look at it for more than like, thirty seconds. like......why must a ship be ‘canon’? is it not enough to read a book and see two celestial beings, in love with humanity?

[whelvenwings]

A few thoughts on Good Omens and representation and queerbaiting, if you'll permit:

1. I love and appreciate the fact that there's so much room for interpreting Aziraphale and Crowley in so many different ways. I really do enjoy that space very much

2. Simultaneously this means there is also plenty of space to interpret the two of them as cisgender heterosexual heteroromantic men, and I find it difficult and honestly frustrating that this means there's a contingent of good omens fans who hate on queer interpretations and can use canon to back themselves up. And there's also an amount (a large amount, I'd argue based on anecdotal evidence) of casual viewers who saw the show and never had queerness occur to them when watching Crowley and Aziraphale on screen. The show didn't cause any confrontation with that idea for them as they watched.

3. How responsible is the show for that reaction, though? That's the question at the core of this, perhaps.

4. Hearing people involved with the making of the show say there's room for any interpretation, that'll ring familiar to viewers of queerbaity shows like spn with its whole "the fans use the show as a canvas onto which they paint the stories that mean the most to them". Because we know that if there's room for us, there's room for a lot of other stuff too. And if we're saying there's space for any interpretation in Good Omens, then there IS space for the cynical view that the creators of the show wanted to maximise its appeal and so left any overt queerness in the negative space on screen, only speaking about it behind the scenes where the casual viewer likely won't come across it. I'm not saying this is true, or that I myself believe it: I'm saying that space for interpretation cuts in every direction.

5. And yes, not every interpretation is as backed up by proof as the next. I could take the position that Crowley is secretly possessed by the spirit of King James VI of Scotland and I could probably find textual evidence for it if I really tried but that wouldn't mean anyone would have to take me seriously. Given the amount of backlash that there was towards queer interpretations of Aziraphale and Crowley right after Good Omens aired, though, I think there's definitely reason to take seriously the viewpoint that leaving this amount of space for interpretation can cause harm and have a negative effect on some or even many queer fans, and that matters.

6. It's a complicated position to be in, to wish added elements in a story not for the story's own sake but for the sake of changing how the show is interpreted irl by other people. On the one hand you want to say, just focus on the story's integrity and what it means for you. There's ample reason for this or that interpretation, so just have fun with it. On the other hand, I don't think it's a position at all deserving of ridicule to say "I wish this story had this element because I want to be treated better in real life when I interact with the fans of this show and I think this would make a difference". I'm non-binary and I would've loved a more textual, spoken exploration of gender beyond costume and occupation, for example, as interesting and rich in detail as those elements were in the show. Partly just to be able to watch that for myself, and partly so transphobic viewers would have to be confronted by that content and actually give their views some thought for a second. Or maybe just feel uncomfortable/stop watching, because screw them.

7. And to be clear, I personally wouldn't want to cement anything beyond the fact that queerness is being explored in the show - because as obvious as that seems to some viewers, to others it's just not apparent that queerness is even potentially being touched on. How to put this... Pratchett for me is the king of combining nuance & subtlety with firmness of purpose. In his books imo there's no room to wonder 'is he talking about this?' but there is so much room to wonder 'what do the characters think about this? what does Pratchett think? what do I think?'. The topic is undeniably brought up for everyone reading in one way or another, without forcing through any kind of particular message or conclusion, and that's a huge part of Pratchett's skill showing, and I would have loved to have everyone experience that firmness of purpose in Good Omens regarding queerness. I recognise not everyone would want this! For some people what we have is perfect and I totally get that. I think there's a lot of room for different opinions to be expressed about this in good faith, and not all of them are gonna be 'the exact balance of canon rep vs space for interpretation was completely perfect in good omens', and that's okay.

8. Overall, the rep in Good Omens opens up so many interesting questions for me. All of the things I've just said I can think of further arguments about, though I don't want this to get out of hand so I'll wind down. But like, can your show be said to have amazing representation if it doesn't explicitly canonically represent any queerness beyond doubt? Is it even possible to represent queerness beyond doubt? How on the nose does representation have to get to be considered canonical? Is the Good Omens way of representing queerness actually more helpful than characters who say and do things that people would usually not really say or do irl, just to prove their queerness? Is the reason people don't say or do those things irl because they're afraid of consequences, a fear that could be lessened by the general acceptance that can be brought about in part through the unquestionable presence of queerness in media? This shit is so interesting and there are so many layers to it and I don't see the need to shut down the conversation.

[lorei-writes]

14, 20, 31 (Trials and Tribulations) and 36 if you’re still taking the writer ask!

Of course I do! I think I'd go back and find them even a week or more later, I love ask games, haha.

14. How do you feel about your older work?

Honestly? I love it! I'm so proud of myself and all the progress I've made!

Younger me took on her first multi-chapter story 2 months after she started to write in English. I've never completed a longer work before. My native language is nothing like English. But it turned out fairly fine! And the one younger me started another 2 months later? It's actually g o o d. I'm currently editing it and I'm stunned at how rapidly I improved between the chapters. I love seeing the starting points of various elements of my workshop.

I love that girl so much -- the faith she had regarding her abilities, her drive to get better, how she experimented and moved forward. And honestly, it’s been a long journey, but I’m confident in saying I’m her biggest fan now, of both her and her work.

It’s not that it was always great, or that I’ve never done anything wrong then. It’s only that I’ve recently discovered a lot of appreciation for that past me and her creations.

Also: I frequently re-read my older pieces.

20. What feedback makes you the happiest to hear? 

I don’t know. Recently I’ve been very happy about receiving even likes. And I think that’s a really good thing!

But, to explain that a little, let me walk down the memory lane.

There was a time I wrote for others. By that I mean that I was VERY preoccupied with how much reach my works got, how many comments I received, how many people were on my tag list (I used to have one), and so on, and so forth. However, I was never satisfied then. It was always too little, and honestly, I got more interactions then than I do now. I was starved for positive feedback, but I was also building up tolerance for it really fast. Of course, I was always grateful when somebody decided to comments, it just got too much control over me.

Fast forward a little, I left certain spaces and suddenly felt very lonely here. The above approach was not sustainable. Nevertheless, I tried once more, and got myself even more disheartened. It drained all the fun out of fandom.

So I started asking myself what is it that I’m really lacking, and realised it was community all along? Just those random chats about characters, and being able to hype other people up, and not caring about statistics when making something, casually chatting with other people, and... I missed not feeling like I have to earn those interactions through producing something.

Soo, fast forward to now. I found some more roles for myself to fulfil, started writing primarily for my own enjoyment, solved the community issue to some extent, and I’m honestly able to smile at any interaction I get now. A like? Man, that’s awesome. Reblog? My mind is blown. A comment? BUDDY YOU TOOK TIME OUT OF YOUR DAY TO TELL ME SOMETHING NICE, I WANT TO GIVE YOU CHOCOLATE COOKIES NOW, THANK YOU. It’s like, hm. The creative process is extremely satisfying on its own, so anything extra is very lush.

31. What was the development process of Trials and Tribulations like?

Chaos. It’s chaos. Pure chaos.

At first I tried to map out several ways in which a story could develop after each choice, but that quickly became too complex to manage. It also felt like any choice readers would have was merely an illusion then, since either of the options was something I’d already planned ahead for (so I could tip scales in one direction or the other, and it was very tempting on multiple occasions).

So... I stopped mapping the story out in my mind. I give choices that I know would be something the characters themselves would wonder about, or would have to choose from. And then I react. The idea I have in mind is rather vague.

There is no script. There is little to no plan. Things are all over the place, but still somehow kinda sorta maybe work, and I’m bending over backwards to keep it that way. But that’s part of the challenge! It’s definitely a fun writing exercise.

36. What fanfic of yours has the symbolism you’re proudest of? 

I think I have three I cherish a lot? Anchor , Lighthouse &  Black Ink Self-Killer .

Black Ink Self-Killer has been especially relevant to me. “What if my writing speaks of an ugly mind?” has been something I asked myself multiple times. Perhaps it was self-indulgent or even spoiled to resolve it in such a way, but the imagery I crafted there still is one of my favourite.

[saikagerights]

Lay Me Down to Rest - Entry for Day of MirSan 2021

Hello there! And welcome to my first Inuyasha fanfiction, as apart of the @dayofmirsan event. 

I initially was planning to be an observer of the event, but sudden inspiration struck at 1am during my nightly routine of falling asleep to Inuyasha. Rewatching the Monkey Sprite episode is interesting for many reasons. For one, there was an unhealthy amount of filler added into the anime adaptation of this story-line, which gave hit-or-miss comedy. But the most important thing is that Miroku and Sango are mostly unaccounted for in this story-line, which gives shippers like me an opportunity to write some “off-screen development” for them. And though the anime does give us an idea, I’m afraid that Miroku’s indifference and frustrated edge in the scene feels a bit off, so I decided to add a bit of a bit of context. Consider this a bit of a fusion between the anime in manga, though the scene is based off of the anime. Also I was very liberal with my use of English/Japanese dub terminology. I watched the anime in English, but switched over to the manga to replace the Final Act, so it’s a bit inconsistent. 

I’ve been observing this fandom from afar ever since I started getting into Inuyasha back in December, and though I wanted to try and engage with it, it seemed very daunting given this fandom’s age and organization. But I’m very grateful that I was given the chance to participate in this event, and lucky that inspiration struck me at the right time. I’ve really been looking forward to seeing the works that come out of this event, and I hope you enjoy my contribution. 

And thanks for the mods for allowing me to share my work with you fellow fans

InuYasha and it’s properties are owned by creator Rumiko Takahashi and Sunrise 

Read on AO3

Sango tailed the monk as he led their investigation. The villagers they had asked so far had no knowledge of the wicked demon, only of the pestering monkeys that were ravaging their fields. Her companion simply nodded, thanking them for their time and promising that the Inugami would save their village. They soon found themselves at the outskirts of the village on an empty patch of land outside the forest, save for one tall tree. Sango found his behavior during their search to be strange, especially as he now paused at the tree, leaving his Shakujo leaning against its trunk.

Was he just as stumped as she was? Would this reprieve be a chance for them to rethink their approach? 

“Why have we stopped here, Miroku?” She questioned. “Aren’t we supposed to search for Naraku’s whereabouts?”

Her befuddlement heightened as he laid his body to rest in the grass underneath the shade of the tree with a sigh, both hands pillowing his head. His intentions then became clear at the sight of his eyelids slipping shut.

“How might we do that when we have neither Inuyasha’s nose or Kagome’s detection?” His tone reflected his relaxed poise. “I merely said that so that Inuyasha would be more inclined to help those villagers.”

Her head tilted downward towards the monk’s resting face. “I understand wanting to help, but do you honestly think that Inuyasha dealing with those monkeys will get us any closer to finding him?

“Not particularly.” He punctuated the off-handed remark with a yawn, overstating his disinterest. “But enough of that... Why don’t you join me here?”

She stood awestruck at his bold request. He lays there while their friends were helping this poor village and now he asks her to do the same? If Inuyahsa were to find out, he’d surely have more pressing things to worry about than the food security of the village. 

“I don’t think it would be wise, considering your flippant lies.”

The man remained still, no sign of concern disrupting his posture. 

“If you changed back into your battle attire before our return, they’d never suspect a thing.” He ignored her statement, a peaceful smile casually appearing on his face. She instantly recognized this move. He was fully convinced he would get his way, the sleazy crook. “Besides, I’m sure sleep has been as kind to you as it has been to me as of late.”

Although it was usually hard to detect amongst his manner of speaking, the monk’s sarcasm was not missed by the slayer. She knew very well that Naraku’s sudden disappearance had their whole group on edge, including herself. And while sleep had become its own battle, the desperate investigations of their enemy have left her distracted from everything else. Sleep meant the rest needed to fight again, but it also meant time alone with one’s most intimate thoughts. What always plagued her mind nowadays were things she’d rather not willingly engage. Finding Naraku should be her biggest concern now, but she indulged her companion despite what she would consider was her better judgement.

The monk had a particular talent for steering her away from rationality.

“Knowing your pervy ways, I’m sure you’d try and sneak a peek at me”

The monk could’ve never noticed the sneer on her face behind his still-closed eyes. The same smile was plastered on his face as well, despite her accusation. He really did enjoy giving her grief, didn’t he...

“Trust me, my dear. I have no intention of moving from this spot for a while. Or at least until Inuyasha comes for my head.”

 “Then I guess you wouldn’t mind if I left Kilala here to guard this spot until I returned.”

He chuckled at that. “I don’t mind at all. I’m sure she’d love to watch me lie here, right Kilala?”  

Sango looked to the nekomata, who merely chuffed in response. She was wary of Kilala’s strange trust in the monk at times, but she was sure that the demon would keep an eye on him in case he tried something funny. 

Miroku took this as the perfect time to reveal his indigo eyes to her. 

 “Please, my intentions are more honorable than what they seem, believe me.”

There it was, that gentle voice of his used to convince her of his authenticity. The same breathy tones that sent her heart racing and her stomach in somersaults. She knew Miroku was confident in his charms, but she also liked to think that he was fully aware of this game they played. She only came to grips with it recently, but there was something going on. 

They’d fight, they’d talk it through, and just when she thought he would try to make a move, that damn hand of his would find the wrong place to caress. Or it would be when she found herself grieving once more, and he could comfort her with his words alone. How did he always know what to say that made everything clear and could heal every fiber of her being, but also had a hand that never failed to do the exact opposite? He was a truly frustrating man, but he was the only one she ever considered more than just that. 

But did he really know? That was a puzzle Sango couldn’t solve. It wasn’t as if anything meaningful resulted from these escapades. Afterwards, they would act as if nothing happened, and he would return to his typical flirtatious ways with any woman that entered his line of sight. So Sango liked to think that Miroku fully knew that he was toying with her feelings. That way it made it easier to lower her expectations and resent them despite Kagome’s not-so-subtle prodding. 

When she became abruptly aware that her eyes had been locked on him for too long, she made her hasty retreat, hoping he didn’t catch her bright red flush in the shade of the tree. 

“This man will be the death of me,” she softly cursed herself as soon as she knew she left his earshot. 

_______________________________________________________________

Upon her return to their little “spot,” she was greeted by an alert Miroku. His body was now fully upright and turned towards her approaching form. 

“You’ve accepted my invitation, I see”

“I thought you were trying to sleep”

“I still am, but I’d figured it would help if I got a quick glimpse of your beauty before-hand.”

She rolled her eyes at his shameless attempt. “You really are troublesome, you know that?”

“You wound me, dear Sango!” He unceremoniously flopped back into his previous position, his left hand patting the spot next to him. “You are free to lie beside me if you wish.” 

Without the need for consideration, she silently opted to sit against Kilala’s curled form, stretching her legs in front of her. He managed to convince her to relax alongside him, but she had no intention of allowing herself to get too comfortable around him in the likely case the monk’s wandering hands wandered once more. He sighed audibly at her decision, but allowed his eyes to close again without any further word. He could act like a child all he wanted, but she would not budge. 

She watched the man for a while, observing his state of rest. She could tell as much that he hadn’t fallen asleep just yet by all of his idle noises and the way he kept trying to steal a glance in her direction. 

“Can’t sleep?”

She hadn’t even tried to close her eyes just yet, as she was still trying to grasp their current situation. Why was he so insistent on sleeping if he was just going to try and stare at her the entire afternoon? Why did he lie to Inuyasha in the first place if this was how they would spend their time? With all these questions moving around in her head, she might as well ask for the most basic of them.

“Miroku? Why do you lie and steal as casually as you do? I always thought that monks were pure-hearted.”

“What a wonderful question!” He exclaimed. With such enthusiasm, she was almost afraid of the answer she would soon receive from him. “I’ve been traveling on my own for so long, and it’s quite difficult to acquire wealth in such unfortunate times. I wish to give aid to those in need, but I also believe that it never hurts to help yourself as well.” He settled for an even tone and let his eyes slip open once more. 

 “And you are right, It is true that holy-people such as myself are meant to be free of sin. But,  I was born tainted by the hole that resides in my hand.” His voice tapered off at his pause, the newfound silence growing thick with each passing moment. His sound returned to him, soft and low, as if it were only meant for his ears alone. 

“It doesn’t matter how much I devote myself to my faith to any idol or deity. My curse is hell-bent on deciding my fate....”

But we are trying to stop Naraku! To free you from the Kazaana. You can always change your path after that! She immediately contested, perhaps a little too loudly, but she didn’t care. How dare he speak so little of himself and avoid her gaze as he did it?! She refused to accept his belittling statements. 

“It is very hard for me to see a future for myself at this time, I’m afraid…” He brought his head up to look at her. A flash of fear ran through his eyes before he looked down once more. “I’m sorry… I shouldn’t speak like that.”

He’s afraid…

And he had every right to be. 

“Please don’t apologize.”

He never showed it in front of their group, but behind that calm and smooth exterior remained a man trembling under the weight of his own mortality. He was a man after all, and men were never to show what made them most vulnerable. But with how much he gives to help others, it feels unfair for him to just allow himself to suffer inside as he did.

 If they understood each other as well as he liked to claim, then she knew he hated the restless feeling they had knowing nothing of where their wicked nemesis resided, surely plotting something to exploit the fears he caused within their hearts. Knowing that her poor brother remained in that demon’s grasp sickened her to her core, and sitting around with no leads made it hard to lay dormant as they did now. 

“I get it. I am just as frustrated as you… About Kohaku-”

“-You don’t need to go any further” He  interrupted her thoughts, I didn’t mean to remind you of your pain like that.”

 “Miroku-” 

 “-Please,” he sharply cut in once more, hoarseness settling into his throat. He must’ve noticed it as well, as he cleared his throat soon after. “let’s just try to find rest while we still can.” 

He squeezed his eyes shut, clearly trying to force unconsciousness upon himself. Sango relented, trying to relax her body, idly stroking Kilala as she watched the man slowly succumb to rest. It was surreal to see him struggle like this when it seemed like meditation was second nature to him. She decided on trying for sleep once his breathing evened out and all the remaining tension left his face. 

________________________________________________________________

Miroku wasn’t sure how long he had been asleep, but he could tell from the shadows before him had grown considerably when his eyes peered open. He turned his head to see Sango now curled up against Kilala, her face all but buried in her demon companion’s fur. He slowly rose to his feet, slightly stretching as he made an intake of his surroundings. It looked as if the sun would soon begin it’s retreat from the sky. The monk knew the rest was necessary, but he definitely didn’t look forward to another predictively sleepless night. 

One more glance at Sango’s sleeping form was enough to convince him to approach her, neglecting his Shakujo to silence his movements. He knew, probably better than anybody, of the threat imposed by the slayer’s attuned senses. He also knew the danger of being caught if she awoke to his gawking. Unfortunately it was a risk he was willing for one small fleeting moment to stare at her.

What an idiot he had been for making her sympathize with his life. Even worse that it reminded her of her own grief. He was happy to indulge her curiosity, but when he looked up at her, he turned cowardly at what he saw. It wasn’t fear, or sadness over his grim fate. It was the very same fire that lit behind her eyes in battle. 

She was prepared to fight for him, it seemed…

He dare not think that she would go any farther for that. He was not worth her death. In fact, nothing was worth her death. The honor of her clan was at stake, and her life was essential in carrying on their legacy. One measly itinerant monk with a fated death should be worthless in her eyes, even if he wanted nothing more than to keep her alive.

Even if he wanted more than anything to see a future with her.

He turned away from her, returning to his spot in a now seated position. The monk had half a mind to wake the woman, but decided against it. Every waking moment for her was its own battle, after all. She needed all the rest she could get. And he’d gladly wait for her until that battle resumed, and fight with her at every step.

And if dying for her now meant he could spend the next life by her side, then he would welcome death with open arms. 

“I hope this woman is the death of me,” he softly wished before all else melted away to his own meditation.

______________________________________________________________

Yeah I realized I took some liberties here with how Miroku and Sango’s relationship was at this point. This episode takes place after the Temptress of the Mist and Demon-Head castle, but far behind Mt. Hakurei, so what was going on with them hadn’t really become a “pattern” just yet. And Miroku had just comforted her in her grieving state for the first time right before that. Sango wasn’t deep enough to say he was her reason for living, so that’s why I kept her on the fence and didn’t have her feel too disappointed, because that’s what came after Mt Hakurei. 

I’m a sucker for long winded perspective changes, especially here with all the parallels I draw between them. Some of my best lines were written here, especially the ending line. My GOD. I swear, I wrote that and everything made sense. I said “yes” over and over again, it was so good.

Also can you tell whose voice I’m talking about when describing Miroku’s? The answer is Koji Tsujitani. I always knew about Tsujitani’s delivery that makes Miroku sound truly “fake” but I noticed rather recently how he would add so much breath, especially in serious scenes. On the other hand, Kirby Morrow played the character down and deep in his throat, which isn’t bad when talking about his overall performance, but I decided to favor Tsujitani’s performance in this instance. 

(I’m a classically trained singer and a music education major, so I’m a nut for analyzing voice acting. I have respect for both of these men may they rest in peace.)

Thanks again for the opportunity, and I hope to write more for this series. 

-Saikage

[lassieposting]

Bit late and random but it's the anon you leave food out for here to give away I am also bi and I think exactly the same as you about bi val pretty much, every time Derek offers me representation my reaction is to slowly, hesitantly take it and say "thaaaaaaaaanks..." while rolling my eyes, in much the same way one accepts their least favourite flavour of sweet from an annoyingly enthusiastic uncle-type-individual. Ironically I feel I had more in common with her before the bi shit started up.

What I find really amusing is that Landy actually did reasonably well at representation when (and only when) he wasn’t trying. 

Oh god, this got long, anon, my ass rambled.

tldr; I'm glad actual bi people dislike bi val (or how Laundry handled bi val) as much as me, this will probably offend at least one person but i don't really care, Dirty Laundry wrote better rep when he didn't mean to write rep at all, and if he ever starts trying to "represent" groups I'm part of I'll take him out back like a dying horse and shoot him.

Like, yes. He had stupid and potentially offensive shit - I say potentially because what offends one member of a group won’t necessarily offend all of them. His attitude to mentally ill people is, frankly, disgusting. We’ve had “Skulduggery can’t be abused, he doesn’t have feelings”. We’ve had “eVeRyOnE iS bI eVeNtUaLlY”. We had Ping, who seemed to be pretty much universally offensive. And that's what's always going to happen when a straight, cis, white, wealthy, male author tries to write marginalised groups he doesn't know shit about, because inevitably he's going to fall back on stereotypes.

But we also had:

SEXUALITY REP: Phase One's nonstraight characters were treated like the straight ones, and like, isn't that the whole point? There was no need for a massive Coming Out Story TM to grab for those sweet sweet Woke Points, because sexuality isn't supposed to be important to mages. I never understood why Val needed that whole Coming Out Panic storyline. Like...Des and Melissa are ridiculously supportive, encouraging, loving parents. They accepted you dating a ~19 year old when you were ~16. They accepted you revealing you could do fucking magic and that you'd been lying to them for like seven years. They took your undead buddy in stride and the most pressing question your dad had was whether magic toilets exist. There is zero reason to think that "I'm bisexual" is gonna be the thing that makes them flip and throw you into the streets in disgrace, Valkyrie. Come on.

Tanith had girlfriends and it was just mentioned casually, because it's normal.

China had massive UST with Eliza. That was an opportunity right there to not only include a f/f relationship, but also to bring back one of the few precious surviving characters from Phase One, using characters and a relationship that already had several books' worth of setup and tension and interest from fans.

The Monster Hunters have a casual conversation about which one of the Dead Men they'd date.

Ghastly has a conversation with Fletcher about the pain he's been through being in love. He never uses any pronouns.

It was confirmed at one point re: the Dead Men that at this point, after 300-odd years, everyone's been with everyone else at some point.

Thrasher is gay, and while Scapegrace's...everything...is treated as a joke/comedic relief, Thrasher's love for him isn't. He's completely devoted to Scapegrace, and that in itself is not played for laughs, even though the rest of the scene usually is. Thrasher's description of their first meeting is essentially a love-at-first-sight situation for him.

"ABNORMAL" RELATIONSHIP REP: Age gap relationships are normal for mages. Off the top of my head, using only canon, canon-implied or almost-canon ships:

Ghastly/Tanith (~350 year age difference)

Tanith/Sanguine (~250+ year age difference)

Tanith/Saracen (~350 year age difference)

Caisson/Solace (~250 year age difference)

China/Gordon (~400 year age difference)

Kierre/Temper (~500+ year age difference)

If you include fan ships, there's also things like Mevolent/Serpine or my Mevolent/Vile, which are both ~600 year minimum age gaps based on the timeline, or Valdug (and its variations) which is ~400 years.

Now, whether you consider this kind of rep positive or negative is up to you, but it’s there.

MENTAL ILLNESS REP: more like "Which characters in this series don't have a mental illness or a personality disorder?" I have some of these issues, but not all of them, so this is just how I read it, but:

ADHD: Skulduggery

Dissociative Identity Disorder: Skulduggery & Vile

Dissociation: Skulduggery again, most notably in DD and DB

Schizophrenia (or similar): Valkyrie & Darquesse, Valkyrie "seeing" Darquesse's ghost thing in Phase Two

Impostor Syndrome: Reflectionie

Autism: Clarabelle

Trauma/PTSD/CPTSD: Skulduggery, Valkyrie, China, Ghastly, Erskine...pretty much everyone has a believable, understandable, morally grey trauma response in this series. People struggling with trauma are spoilt for choice of characters to see themselves in.

TRAUMA REP: This series is a trauma conga line, but everyone has a believable, understandable, morally grey trauma response in this series. I see little bits of myself in more than one Phase One character.

Childhood Abuse (of varying degrees & types): Skulduggery, Carol & Crystal, Omen, Fletcher, Ghastly, China, Bliss, Sanguine...

Estranged Family: Skulduggery abandoning his crest, Fergus & Gordon, China & Bliss

Bad Romantic Relationship: Skulduggery is also very clearly an abuse victim. He’s got a solid history of romantic attachments to women who manipulate, use and gaslight him for their own agendas.  There's a whole paragraph in SPX about how Abyssinia broke him down, isolated him from his friends and preyed on his desperate need to be loved, all classic abuse tactics.

And I’m personally a huge fan of this backstory for two reasons:

1) Society likes a plucky victim in media. The "My suffering made me stronger" type of victim. And it's not always like that in real life. Not all survivors come out of their abuse stronger or kinder or more understanding. Some of us come out cold and fucked up. Some of us end up as emotionally stunted, bloodied-nails-and-bared-teeth survivors, broken in ways that can't be fixed and sustained by enough rage to power a small sun. But society doesn't like to tell the story of that kind of survivor, because we're not usually a likeable protagonist. When we're shown in media, we're usually the sympathetic villain, or maybe the antihero. But Skug is someone who's done awful things and lost pretty much all his faith in humanity and been burned more times than he can count, and he still makes the conscious choice to try and be the good guy when he could so easily go Evil Supervillain on the world, and I don't know about any of y'all, but I've modelled myself on him in that. I've made the choice to do something good when all I really want to do is just become a horrible, shrivelled ball of nastiness and revenge. And that's because I saw him do it and realised that I could do that too.

Skug is an incredibly capable, strong, masculine Man's Man. He gets in fights all the time, and he usually wins. He's military, an industry that's Really Bad for stigmatizing weakness and mental illness, and he's right up at the top of the hierarchy. Almost everyone is afraid of him. He's a straight up cold-blooded killer. Skulduggery Pleasant is precisely the type of person who's not normally portrayed as a victim of anything. Nothing about him screams "victim" at all. But his abuse history is insidious. He's so conditioned to respond in a certain way to abuse from the women in his life, probably from a very young age, that despite all that strength and capability and stubbornness and ego, he just goes along with it. And it's an established pattern going back hundreds of years. He keeps going back to China, even though he knows she's bad for him and his friends keep telling him to stay away from her. Abyssinia latched onto him when he was traumatized and vulnerable and weaponized it against him to make him easier to control - and when she reappears, hundreds of years later, she jumps straight back into using, tmanipulating and gaslighting him and not only does he let her, he doesn't even seem to realise that behaviour is abusive. He thinks it's normal! That's how he's always been treated by his long-term girlfriends, with the notable exception of Wifey. Even when Val is being fucking nasty to him in the first couple books of Phase Two, sniping and lying and blaming him for everything under the sun, he just takes it. There's no attempt to tell her she's being unreasonable, no telling her to fuck right off and give her head a wobble, no defending himself even when she's bitching over something that isn't even his doing. And this is a man who has an absolutely gleaming steel spine the rest of the time; Skug has no problem saying no to anybody else, but he can't get past the way he's been taught to treat the important ladies in his life. Skug is a walking reminder that anyone can be a victim of abuse, even the ones who seem least likely to be susceptible.

GENDER REP: This one is the most iffy out of the bunch and definitely was not done very well in the eyes of the people who matter most, but I'll include it anyway because it mattered to some.

So there's Nye, who's...agender? Genderless? And uses "it" pronouns? Nye was generally considered horrible rep because it's also a war criminal and experiments on people and I've seen people say "Well I don't want to be seen like that" but? It's still possible to be a war criminal and also genderless. I never saw the two things as being related or relevant to each other.

There's also Mantis, who's in exactly the same gender/pronouns boat as Nye and always seems to be forgotten about, which sucks because Mantis is a war hero. It fought for the Sanctuary during the War and they never lost a battle when it was in command. It's called out of retirement to fight for the Supreme Council in LSODM, ends up fighting alongside Skulduggery during the Battle of Roarhaven, and ultimately dies attempting a very brave, very risky strategy. Mantis is, unreservedly, one of the good guys. It was also my introduction to sentient beings using "it" pronouns, and did it in a way that felt natural, so when I met my first person online who used "it" pronouns and hated to be referred to as he/she, it was...weird, but not as weird as it would otherwise have been, because I was like, "Oh yeah, like the Crenga. Okay."

And then there's the Scapegrace sex change plotline, which...I might have an unpopular opinion on this one. From what I’ve seen, trans people don’t seem to think was handled well or with any sensitivity at all. I’m not trans, so if the trans community says he was being offensive to them, I’m not going to claim otherwise. But...I first read the Scapegrace plotline as a young teenager in a tiny rural school with zero diversity, going through a period of being deeply confused about my own gender identity. He was more or less my first introduction to the idea that genitals =/= gender. I was relieved, at that point in my life, to read someone having a lot of the same thoughts I was having about being in the wrong body. So while it may have been badly done and yeah, the series would probably have been better without it, it did make at least one kid suspecting she might not be cis go “Huh! So there are other people who feel like this.”

Thrasher is also implied to be legitimately trans/gender-questioning, and that's not played for laughs either.

So? Phase One, while it absolutely had faults and issues and things that were just "Oh god why", was actually full of rep, at least compared to the other series that I read as a child/teen. But? As soon as Dirty Laundry started trying to be woke? He fucking sucks ass at it. Aside from confirming Phase One's hints that Skug has a background of abusive relationships, every single attempt at shoehorning rep into Phase Two is Bad.

The painfully OOC, forced, badly-written awkwardness of Val suddenly being rabidly horny for women out of fucking nowhere. The stilted, forced cringiness between her and any of the women she's flirted with - contrast that with Sorrowscorn's interactions, full of natural chemistry that had us all like 👀 I mean, I never shipped Val/Melancholia, but I could always see why people did - they had miles more chemistry than Val/anyone in Phase Two.

The fucking mess that is v*litsa, because if someone says "I'm really not interested in friendships/relationships right now", clearly the route to true love is to bulldoze their boundaries and forcibly insert yourself into their life and proceed to treat them like a delicate soft uwu flower, completely ignoring the horrible things they've done, while gleefully damning their best friend as an irredeemable monster for the exact same things, which is. You know. Gonna affect your so-called love's self-confidence and self-esteem because she knows she's no different to him. Y'all know I love an angsty ship, an unhealthy ship, a ship with fucked power dynamics, but I literally cannot roll my eyes any further back in my head at this shit. I never read Demon Road, but from what I've heard from friends who did, it does seem like every time Laundry tries to write an f/f ship, he comes up with a cringey abusive/manipulative caricature and tries to call it rep, and he needs to Stop.

Val's Mental IllnessTM arc. It's funny how he wrote Skulduggery as a wonderfully complex character with deep-rooted psychological damage and long-lasting trauma, but believes he wrote a character with "no feelings" - but when he tries to delve into the damage the world of magic has done to Val, he turned her into a weak, whiny drug addict who treats everyone around her like garbage and is so selfish and dislikeable that I? Honestly can't even reconcile Phase Two val with Phase One val. They're two completely different people. He's shown on Twitter that he doesn't have any respect for mentally ill people, and it shows. Other mentally ill people might see it differently, but the whole thing just makes me go "yikes".

Never, who has no personality outside of being genderfluid, and whose pronouns make no sense. I'm sorry, I have never met an nb person who insists that you change from male to female pronouns multiple times in a sentence, every time you refer to them. It's confusing as fuck. Now I have been told that Never has apparently received some character development in the last couple books, and if so, fair play, but I quit reading after Midnight, and Never and the rest of the personality-less new characters introduced in Phase Two who just seemed to be 2D Stereotypes to snag Woke Points were a big part of why, so. Development too late, I'm afraid.

(Now, if anyone is looking for a well-written genderfluid character, I recommend the Tawny Man trilogy by Robin Hobb. I have a lot of issues with her as a writer, and unfortunately I hate her POV character which puts me off the series as a whole, but she wrote the Fool/Amber/Lord Golden and their gender identity/approach to sexuality with so much more respect and realism. That is the kind of rep nb people should be getting: 3D, complex, realistic characters whose gender is only a tiny fragment of their personality, not the be-all-and-end-all of their existence. You know. Like cis people get. Nobody wants to be represented by a 2D cardboard cutout stereotype.)

Anyway idk how much sense this makes it just really amuses me that Laundry would include all this rep completely unintentionally and then go on Twitter and remind us all that actually he's a massive asshole via insensitive/offensive tweets about the groups he'd actually done a fair job of including (i.e. Skulduggery has no feelings, mentally ill people should find another series to read, the bullshit about Val being "heteromantic bisexual" on Twitter and then spouting all the "the woman she loved uwu" shit in the books (proving he has no idea what he's talking about), eVeRyOnE iS bI eVeNtUaLlY. He can only write half-decent rep when he's not trying and he inevitably outs himself as having a really shitty attitude towards those people anyway, proving that ultimately it's all either unintentional rep or performative wokeness.

[sanstropfremir]

Hello I've been meaning to ask if you ever saw the 2017 taemin and jimin (b//tee/ss) collab stage and what your thoughts are on it. People like to debate over who was the "better dancer " which I feel technically isn't to fair to the b&*ts member cause taemin had MANY years to perfect his craft plus had lik a few solo stuff under his belt. For me personally I prefer taemin dance style. Some think that jimin's dance style is more off beat or like emotionally raw? While taemin is more technical but doesn't lose his "face". I'm curious on your thoughts! 💖

hello!!! i have seen it, yes! i agree that i don't really think the comparison is fair, because taemin does have that much more experience but also because they have different style bases. taemin's popping base means that he tends towards sharper and more defined movements that have clear finish points and geometric shapes. and he's fast. jimin has a base much closer and more heavily influenced by contemporary, so he's less focused on stopping his lines in the same way. however i will say this is not necessarily good contemporary practice, but i'm gonna come back to that. jimin is also not very fast. this is not a fault of contemporary practice either, although it does usually tend to be a balladic style. i think there's become a bit of a false equivalency that has happened when a general audience engages with an 'emotional' performance, and that is that emotion and technique are somehow mutually exclusive. that to have a more 'emotional' performance the dancer has to 'break' technique in some way, because apparently if you're really feeling the feelings, technique doesn't matter. i think this has happened for two reasons. the first is reality/competition television and its manipulative editing, and the second is that the 'carelessness' or break makes the performer seem more relatable. we've all fucked something up in the heat of the moment. and although i don't think this line of thinking is totally invalid, i do think that it does kinda defeat the point of performance unless used in very specific circumstances. most of the time you aren't supposed to see the performer underneath the performance. kpop is one of the few forms where that is almost...encouraged? in a way?? it's an art form that's born from cult of personality, so audience engagement with any of the work supersedes the preface of storytelling and goes straight to the admiration of the performer themselves. it's not about how well they can tell a story, its about how well the audience perceives them performing. and i am specifically aiming this at fanbases, not at the idols themselves. a truly exceptional artist doesn't need to sacrifice technique to tell a good story.

and i think here is where we see the main crux of the difference between taemin and jimin as performers: taemin has both an artistic and an idol persona. we know and understand him to do solo work that has a separate artistic meaning to just him being an idol. even though this performance was pre-move, i would still say this applies, because he's hot off press your number, where he's acting in a story based mv. jimin on the other hand just has his idol persona. he's not known for creating the same kind of storytelling that taemin is. while i was drafting this response i got two different asks about bts so i'm gonna save the longer discussion about their brand for those, since this is already getting upwards in the wordcount.

now lets bring it back in to dance specifically; there's a couple things i want to elabourate on. first and foremost, jimin isn't fast enough to keep up with taemin in this choreo. it's much more in line with taemin's style and honestly most idol dancers would have trouble keeping up with taemin. secondly, i said previously that jimin's casual line finishes are not good contemporary practice, and that's true. contemporary does have more emphasis on fluidity and fluid shapes rather than strict geometric ones, but good contemporary has very pointed stops when they're there. and luckily, there's some neat examples that i can use to better illustrate what i'm talking about. byeongkwan from a.c.e has actually done a cover of lie, specifically of the section that jimin does here, AND he precedes it by doing a cover of want!! which hello!!! how much more perfect an example can i get!! byeongkwan has base in hiphop, he's a huge taemin fan, plus he has fantastic body isolation, and if a.c.e can do anything its dance really fucking fast. you can see in the way that he dances want he keeps all the transitions very very fluid, there's very little stop points between positions because that's how taemin dances it; its all about being as fluid as possible, but it still requires a rigidity of form that means that you cannot slack. there's no place here for an errant uncontrolled hand: breaking the technique is breaking the performance. and then watch how he changes that approach going into lie. he has very clear and very fast stops; when he's still, he's still: there's no overshoot on his movements, he's purposeful in his placement.

my other example is taemin has very kindly done a full contemporary routine, just me and you, as a vcr from the ngda beyond live. it's fucking incredible and i full on wept watching it for the first time during the concert. it's an excellent example of good contemporary that doesn't sacrifice technique and is still extremely emotional. also like, not to bring this routine up again for the nth time but ten and winwin's lovely is another great example (this link is a live performance this time). the both of them are have very strong shape creation and i've talked about ten briefly before as a contemporary based dancer but here let me quickly draw your attention to winwin's HANDS. look at them!!!! he has training in chinese traditional dance which has extremely specific hand positions and you can see it; his placements and positions are so specific!!! he's so nice to watch!!!

ok this got longer than i expected but i think i've covered most of my main points pertaining to this specific collab; when i finish the other asks about bts i'll edit a link in here: part two, and part three.

[xmint-conditionx]

☆ flanked ☆ ch1 | knj

(verb) flank - 

guard or strengthen (a military force or position) from the side.

attack down or from the sides, or rake with gunfire from the sides.

☆ pairing: soldier!namjoon x widow!reader; namjoon x fem!reader ☆ word count: 4.7K ☆ summary: you’re a recently widowed military spouse who is stationed at camp walker, south korea. you’re dealing with the tragedy of your husband’s recent death, and in the process, you accidentally meet a k-pop idol you’ve had a crush on for years. who knew you’d both be at the same post while he’s doing his compulsory service? who knew he’d be so damn nice? who knew it would be impossible to get him out of your head? ☆ warnings: angst, mentions of death, grieving, feelings of guilt, brief description of sexual acts. ☆ a/n: hey everyone c: glad to be putting this gem back up into the world. please do let me know if you want to be added to a taglist for this, i’d be happy to oblige! this was one of the first things i’ve written, and so i hadn’t quite found my style yet, but it’s not that bad??? i pretty much have the whole story planned out, but i want to take my time with it. this is my lil baby, and i wanna treat it right uwu this starts off with a lot of angst and tough emotions, but there will be eventual smut!!! huge thank you to my supportive spouse who is in the military and has helped out with some of the realism aspects of this story. hope y’all like it! enjoy!

- minty <3

It’s raining today. Again. The clouds hang low, like a weighted blanket covering your whole world. Aren’t those things supposed to help with anxiety? If only the clouds comforted you, maybe you wouldn’t feel the need to go to… therapy. The word stings in your brain. Another cruel joke of the universe: the un-comforting weighted cloud blanket, and the need for you to go to therapy to ease your pain about a dead therapist. 

The light of the day is beginning to leave as you walk towards the address the man had given you the day before. You really should have been nicer; he really didn’t mean to hurt you. And you really should have asked his name. Mentally kicking yourself, you vow that you’ll do it tonight. After all, this is the only other time you’ve left the house by yourself this week. It was nice to not have the Casualty Assistance Officer breathing down your neck for once. There has to be some good in that. Hell, this little outing might actually be helpful.

The old government building is dull, like both the sky and your feelings. If you died right now and were reincarnated into an object instead of a being, the building in front of you would probably be the best fit. Shades of brown and grey cover tired and worn brick. Government funding has tried its best to keep it presentable but truthfully, it’s barely holding on. It’s definitely seen better days. The more you think about the similarities, the more pathetic you feel, so you push on ahead and push the thoughts out of your mind. The door creaks as you walk in the cold and dark foyer and it all just... makes sense. As empty inside as you are. Jesus, you’ve never been this morbid. There are no lights on other than one at the end of one of the hallways, and you hesitantly step towards it. You don’t like the thought of what that light is going to expose. 

As you reluctantly enter the beam of offensive fluorescent light, someone takes notice of you. Already? They’re walking towards you, hand extended. You’re busy blinking back at the new bright sensation as you reach your hand out to introduce yourself. After blinking back the harsh light, you can see the little folding chairs placed in a circle in the room. Great, you think, just like AA. 

The man before you seems to be in his late 30s, a little on the short side, with a little bit of hair recession. As you finish your short bow to the man, he says in Korean “Yes, someone told us you might be joining us tonight.” as he sends a meaningful look over to one of the chairs in the circle. You follow his gaze to see the man from yesterday grinning up at you, dimples on full display, this time in civilian clothes. After sending you a goofy little wave, he pats the chair next to him and not so smoothly motions for you to sit there. 

“Go ahead,” the older man says, “make yourself comfortable. We’ll be starting in a few minutes.”

You walk toward the empty chair, and take in how truly different he looks in plain clothes. His KATUSA uniform was extremely flattering to his large frame, but this is just downright cruel. The black beanie he’s sporting looks way too good on him. His short sleeved v-neck shirt is a little tight, revealing the finely defined shape of his chest and his arms. He catches your eyes lingering on his body, and you quickly look down as you feel a blush creep up. You tell yourself to just pretend nothing happened, and it’ll all be fine. 

After you sit down, you open your mouth to ask for his name, but he does the same, your voices awkwardly echoing each other. Realizing what happened, your cheeks grow even warmer and you can’t help but turn away as you both share a laugh. You shake it off and give him your name, family first and individual second, attempting to at least make eye contact with him. 

“Nice to officially meet you. I’m Sangbyeong Kim Namjoon, but please don’t feel the need to use titles or honorifics with me. We’re equals here as far as I’m concerned. I’m really glad you decided to come tonight.” 

So, it is him. You can’t even begin to believe it. He looks so different than he did in the tour pictures you saw only a few years ago, but as you look up at him knowing what you know, it all falls into place. Some things for sure didn’t change one bit- his button nose, his deep and smoldering eyes, and the signature dimples really should have given it away. His smile is still just as genuine and reassuring and gleaming and... beautiful?

You immediately squish the thought and offer him back a tight smile. You’re not going to let him know you know who he is. It would probably only make him feel weird and you’ve already been so awful to him. You’re not going to allow yourself to make a big deal about this, and you’re definitely not going to allow yourself to... like him. 

“Look,” you start, “I appreciate your concern. I... I just don’t think something like this will help me. At least not right now.” You sigh, studying your shoes as a distraction. Your hands busy themselves fiddling with your necklace. There’s no way you can be here sitting this close to Namjoon. 

As if he can read your panicked thoughts, Namjoon leans in closer to you, so close you can feel his warm breath on your jaw, and with a hushed and more gravelly voice, he says, “You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to. Hell, I didn’t say anything for almost a whole month. It just... felt good to listen. You’re not going to be forced into anything. This is going to go at your speed and be what you’re comfortable with. I promise.” With that last sentence, he places his large, warm hand on your knee. 

Shit. You suddenly feel your entire body ignite. What is this? A bolt of lightning rushes up your spine. Your heart starts to pound in your chest. No, this isn’t happening. Your legs begin to tingle. This can’t be happening; this is not allowed. You swallow hard. 

You don’t want to be aroused. You straight up shouldn’t be aroused. This is messed up. Really messed up. You blink some sense back into yourself and cross your legs away from him which thankfully removes the cursed hand.

You’d imagined being touched by this man for a pretty considerable amount of time some years ago; you had filled your head with countless fantasies, knowing they’d never come true. You’d read countless imaginings of his other fans and admirers. This man had fueled so many hidden desires within you. You’d thought of his hands exploring your frame, his strong arms throwing you around, his plush lips leaving marks along your inner thighs...

Thinking of him had been your guilty little pleasure, even something your husband had liked to playfully tease you about. To actually have him here next to you in the flesh, though, was still somehow unfathomable. Why now, you mentally screamed to the god you didn’t believe in. The universe’s cruel jokes just won’t end, will they? What can you possibly even do about this? You can’t sit here and allow your panties to be wet when your husband hasn’t even been buried yet for fucks sake. God, you’re so ashamed. You’re just going to have to keep him at a polite distance. That’s your only option.

You don’t speak through the meeting. But Namjoon was right, it is kind of nice to hear other people’s stories. Even though it’s only been a week since you found out, there’s a lot of feelings and thoughts you can relate to with these people. You’ve found out why Namjoon comes to these meetings every week. That was a question you didn’t want to linger on, much less learn the answer to. You didn’t want to imagine him experiencing a loss like this. Even when you weren’t convinced it was really him, seeing that same pain in another’s eyes only made yours hurt worse. 

One of Namjoon’s fellow soldiers had died in a training accident, and the whole fire team was there doing group therapy. They spent most of their time remembering the funny things he would do to cheer everyone up during their long ruck marches and their annoying and boring bouts of equipment cleaning. Private First Class Derek Williams was the goofball of the group, and he was definitely well loved. Namjoon’s eyes never fully lit up when everyone’s anecdotes hit their punchline.

As the meeting draws to a close and people begin filing out, the group leader comes over to the both of you and asks Namjoon how his thoughts have been over the past week. It’s interesting that the man takes special interest in Namjoon. He nods and just casually replies, “I keep thinking it should have been me instead.”

His relaxed confession is absolutely shocking. Why would he say that? The older man seems to be as surprised as you are.

“Namjoon-ah, please don’t say such things,” the man urges. 

“I know how it sounds, I really do. I’m not going to do anything crazy, and I know it’s a pointless thought,” he shrugs. “It’s just how I’ve been feeling.” 

The older man nods. 

“Go in well-being, Namjoon. Please, call me if you need to.”

You find yourself walking out together. The sky is now fully dark and there’s an added chill in the air, urging you to pull your scarf up a little higher. At least it’s not raining anymore. It’s not usually this cold in Daegu at this time of year; you’re practically begging Spring to come. Although you’re in stride with each other, Namjoon feels like he’s a million miles away.

 “Hey,” you begin, hoping to ease the tension. “I’m sorry about your friend. He sounded like a really nice guy.” 

“Yeah, he was. Thanks. I’m sorry about your husband too. You seem to miss him a lot.” 

“Yeah, I do. Part of me still doesn’t believe he can really be gone. I feel like I’ve been walking around in a daze for the past week. All the paperwork I’ve had to sign. All the logistics. It’s all a little overwhelming so I… just kind of shut down most of the time. Our dog is still looking for him around the house, too, which is probably the worst thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

“Oh, shit. I couldn’t imagine. I have a dog too and... I don’t want to think about how confused they must be. That’s terrible. I’m so sorry.”

You both stop walking, because you realize you’ve allowed him to walk you all the way to your car. He didn’t even ask.

“Speaking of my son… I... actually need to go walk him. He’s been inside all day and it’s finally stopped raining. Huskies need exercise... So...”

Namjoon lights up a little. “Do you walk him on post?”

“No actually, we go to Duryu Park. He likes the ducks that gather at the pond. Although they probably won’t be doing very much at this time of night.”

“Hey, why don’t we go together?” he asks, “It’s dark out and it’s not a good idea for you to be by yourself.” 

“Excuse me?” you snap. He doesn’t know you’re a brown belt, but he sure is about to.

A flustered Namjoon begins stumbling over his words. “I’m just saying, you’re like really small and someone could easily—“

“Namjoon,” you laugh. “I think I can handle myself.”

“No, uh, what I’m trying to say is that there’s safety in numbers, you know? It would be difficult to fight off bad guys while keeping hold of your dog...” He has a good point. You’ve never walked Draco this late before. You don’t want to admit it, but your recent lesson in mortality has left you a little more than uneasy, especially now that Namjoon has made you think about it.

He continues his word vomit, mistaking your furrowed eyebrows for reluctance instead of consideration. 

“Look, I’m sure you’re very intimidating but—“

Oh my god, you can’t take it anymore. 

“Namjoon!” you exclaim and he finally, finally stops the verbal deluge. “Fine.” 

He seems astonished. “Really?”

“Yeah, meet me by the bridge that leads to the little island in the middle of the pond in like... 30 minutes. We usually do two laps around the water. And...” you pause, “thanks.” You’re a little annoyed at how persistent he can be, but he is really considerate.

His eyes sparkle in the light of the street lamps and you notice his gaze linger on your pursed lips. He does a... weird little hop and finally fully smiles at you. You’ve forgotten how utterly striking his full smile can be. Jesus Christ, how many teeth does this man have? His cheeks have become even more round and his eyes shrink into little half moons. Your stomach does somersaults as you bask in the glow of his happiness. Ugh, not again.

“Okay, I’ll see you soon!” he says, hurrying away. You don’t notice him glance back at you, and that’s probably a good thing.

You get in your car and put your forehead against the steering wheel. Why can’t you just say no to this man?

___________________________

You walk up to the start of the bridge with your pup in tow, who is obviously very pleased to be outside and at his favorite park to boot. The street lamps don’t cover much, but you can just make out a leggy figure standing next to a small white fluff ball. You’d forgotten he said he had a dog too. As you get closer, you see he’s got the leash handle around his wrist, because both his hands are holding two white cups with steam pouring out of the top. 

“What’s this?” you ask, as he extends one of the cups to you. Your dogs are busy sniffing each other, ears back and tails wagging. 

“Hot chocolate! It’s really cold out and I noticed you shivering when we got out of the group therapy building and I was going to get you coffee but I didn’t know what kind you like or how you take it plus it’s late and caffeine might keep you up all night and I didn’t want to—“

“Namjoon,” you cut him off before he explodes. “Thank you.” you reply, taking a sip of the hot drink and relishing in how it warms you up. You look back up at the handsome man, who is beaming down at you, enthralled in your pleased reaction. Warmth is beginning to spread through your body, and as your eye contact with him deepens, you begin to wonder if it’s just the hot chocolate. You can’t help yourself. “You do know that there’s a lot of sugar in hot chocolate though, right?” 

He furrows his eyebrows and panic soon consumes his face.

 “Oh! Right! I’m sorry I—“

“Relax, I’m just teasing you. I’ll be fine, promise. And if I’m not and you end up keeping me up all night, I guess I’ll just have to kick your ass.” you deadpan, which takes more effort than usual because now, you’re picturing him… keeping you up all night.

He starts laughing and you can’t help but to join him. He has a good, hearty laugh, one that makes his entire face light up. It feels really good to be laughing with him. 

“Oh!” he exclaims suddenly, “this is Moni!” gesturing down to the adorable American Eskimo at the end of the pink leash. 

You squat down to formally introduce yourself to Moni. You let him sniff your hand as your dog takes the opportunity to sneak some kisses on your face. 

“Bananas, stop!” you light-heartedly scold, but your pooch doesn’t get the message. He seems encouraged instead, and you are given no mercy by your big fluffy boy. 

Namjoon just laughs at how adorably frustrated you are. After he’s had enough entertainment, he extends a hand and helps you back up. This is the first time you’ve touched skin to skin, and your body is keenly aware of it. His hands are softer than you thought they’d be, and really warm. With how cold it is, you wish you could keep holding onto his strong yet elegant hands. Even after he’s released you, a symphony of tingles play in your legs, betraying you once again.

“Shall we then?” Namjoon asks, tilting his head down slightly so he’s looking at you through his eyelashes. Why does he have to do that? He can’t look at you like that. It’s illegal. Not allowed. He’s torturing you, and surely he has to know that. Or is he oblivious? He’s probably not even trying, because he has no reason to. He doesn’t even need to try. Which is kind of the problem, because you can’t exactly tell him to stop being so damn hot.

You can only answer him by tugging on your leash with a “let’s go!”

Over your walk, you talk about favorite places to eat in town and the different attractions you’ve come to love during your stay here. He talks about one of his best friends who grew up here in Daegu, so he knows all of these nice little spots only a local would typically know. You don’t have to wait for him to say Yoongi’s name before you know who he’s talking about, bringing up a hint of stinging remorse at your secret. He says they’re still in contact as much as they can be, but it tends to be difficult when they were both doing their compulsory service. Yoongi had finished his obligation, and is back in Seoul working on music. For his time, he was stationed right outside of Seoul working with the Korean Military Police, so he never really had to totally put down his work. He talks about Yoongi like they’re brothers, and it’s one of the sweetest things you’ve ever seen. Namjoon doesn’t even try to hide how much he misses his friend.

He asks about where you grew up, and the question is kind of startling. It’s not that you’re not wanting to tell him, but you’re surprised that he wants to know.

“I grew up in Georgia, in the United States. It’s in the Southeastern part of the country.”

“Ah okay, so you grew up close to Atlanta?” he asks, full of curiosity. 

“Kind of! I was about a 4 hour drive from there. I grew up closer to the ocean.” you say, and notice his eyes light up when you mention the sea.

“There’s a guy in my unit,” he begins, “who did his training in Georgia. He said that there isn’t much there other than Atlanta...” he says, quickly noticing your bemused look. He catches himself and finishes, “but in hindsight he was likely biased.”

“He probably trained at Ft. Benning. If that’s the case, I don’t blame him for thinking that at all,” you say, “He’s actually kind of right, if that’s all of Georgia he got to see,” you continue, laughing a little.

“Well, what do you think of Georgia?”

“Hmmmm. I think I wouldn’t have wanted to grow up anywhere else. The area where I grew up was close to the beach, but there was also a lot of agriculture. My grandma even had a peach tree in her backyard. She’d let me go back there and pick a peach and eat it if I had behaved that day. Peaches are my favorite, so it was a pretty good motivator.”

“Georgia is known for their peaches, right?” he asks, but his tone tells you he already knows the answer to that. You had always thought people were exaggerating at how smart he is, but you can’t deny the fact any longer.

“Yeah, we’re even called the peach state. Peaches, pecans, sweet onions and peanuts all grow well there.” you say and he nods with understanding. 

“So what about the town you grew up in?”

“The town was pretty small, my high school maybe had 500 people in it. But the bigger city by us was great. A lot of different types of people. A lot of good food. God, I miss southern food a lot.” you gasp, grabbing his bicep with your free hand, “Namjoon! You haven’t lived until you’ve had good collard greens!” 

“Collard greens? I’ve never heard of that,” he says, scrunching up his eyebrows.

“It’s a side dish we eat down south. It goes with just about everything, but it’s best next to fried chicken and macaroni and cheese.”

“Macaroni and cheese…” he muses, letting the English words roll off his tongue, “I really want to try more American food. I’ve had plenty of hamburgers, but I want to try everything. PFC Williams always let me try his lunch if I asked him. He brought this thing called potato salad one day… that was an interesting experience.”

You sigh, “there’s much more to American food than just hamburgers and potato salad. Too bad there aren’t any real authentic American food restaurants here. Although, there is a Johnny Rockets on the other side of town. Is that where you get your hamburgers?”

“Yeah… it is. Chain restaurants are cheating though, right?”

“Yeah, basically. If you want real American food, you’ve got to get a real American to make it for you. I thought I really liked Korean food until I moved here. Americanized Koean food is not half as good as the real thing,” you assure him.

“I could have told you that,” he teases, giving you a light bump with his shoulder. “Do you have a favorite restaurant in town?”

You discuss the places you have come to love in Daegu, from restaurants to parks to shopping areas to museums. You both realize you enjoy art, although he prefers looking at it while you enjoy making it. The conversation ventures to Pollock and Monet and Van Gogh and you go on about how you just don’t get Picassos. He just lets you just rant about how much you hate his works for probably too long, until you’ve run out of breath and are forced to take a break.

“Wow, that bad huh? What did he ever do to you?” Namjoon chuckles.

“He destroyed my corneas with his kindergarten level bullshit, that’s what.” you snap, which only makes him laugh more.

“So it’s safe to say that you hate Banksy too, then?” 

“No way!” you say, “Banksy is a genius!”

He just continues to chuckle, clearly amused. “I will never understand you, woman.” 

“Are you trying to?” you quip before you can stop yourself, and his laughs die down. Oh, no. That was so direct. Way too direct. He’s got to know you’re into him now; he’d be a moron to not pick up on it. Your stomach is doing somersaults again, but not the good kind this time. You’ve known him for less than two days, so why did you think that was a good thing to say?

You chew your lip, worried of what he might be thinking. Or worse, what he might actually say. After an excruciatingly long silence, finally, it happens.

“Yes. I am.” 

What does that even mean?! Your thoughts are beginning to spiral again, and thankfully, he continues, albeit way too nonchalantly. 

“And honestly, it’s been really enjoyable to do.”

It’s been... enjoyable? Has he already forgotten how you met? This man must have a death wish if getting verbally murked by a strange woman in public was something he considered to be ‘enjoyable.’ You’re immeasurably grateful he isn't looking at you right now, because it’s nearly impossible to hide your astonishment. 

“So…” he begins slowly, “I hope you’ll continue to let me.”

What do you even say to something like that? Namjoon is so much nicer than you ever expected, and that fact is only making things more difficult for you. You’ve had more enjoyment in this one walk than you’ve had this whole week, but there’s about a million different reasons why you should stay away from him. If you only could have met under different circumstances, this might be something you could explore. Honestly, you would still love to explore the possibilities with him, even here and now, but the thoughts of your husband are difficult to push away. 

You recoil at that and curse yourself. 

They shouldn’t be pushed away! It’s not fair to your husband or to his memory. It wouldn’t even be fair to Namjoon! You can barely give yourself a hundred percent right now, much less a new friendship. On top of everything, you’re going to have to go back to the states in less than 6 months, which is an eventuality you’re not looking forward to facing. 

The only sounds now are the soft contact of your shoes against pavement, the tinkling of metal dog tags, and the cold breeze rustling the trees around the four of you. You were correct about there being no ducks out this late, and you find yourself missing their chatter. Anything to distract you from this confrontation would be welcome right now. As the silence grows longer, it becomes more and more difficult for you to respond. You’ve never been great with words, but what do you have to lose besides looking like an idiot? Besides, you’ve already done that. Like, yesterday. You take a deep breath and offer up the most broad explanation.

“Namjoon, I just can’t be a good friend to you right now.”

“That’s not what I’m asking for.” he simply replies, not missing a beat. Why is he being so stubborn? You’re going to have to elaborate. Forget trying to not make a fool out of yourself. He’s a good person, and he deserves your honesty-- at least most of it.

“I can’t be a good friend to you ever. I’m too consumed in my own baggage right now to help you carry yours. Plus, I’ll have to return to the States soon. I just… don’t want to be a burden on you.”

“That’s… not what I’m asking for,” he says again.

Frustration building up causes you to sigh at him. You’re going to need a little help from this infuriating dimpled tree-man, so you make him give it to you.

“What are you asking for, then?” you inquire with a little sting in your tone, leaving him with no room to continue being vague.

“I am asking to continue spending time with you. That’s it. I enjoy your company.” he says. This answer is still unacceptable to you because...

“I literally yelled at you in a parking lot yesterday, Namjoon,” you say.

“Yeah, but that was…” he trails off and scratches his head, “kind of my fault.” 

“You can’t be serious. You… didn’t know.”

“That might be true, but I still hurt you, and I’d like the chance to continue making it up to you. At risk of sounding really cheesy… Part of my job as a KATUSA is to be a symbol of the friendship and mutual support of our two fine countries... To learn from and assist each other... I don’t see why we couldn’t do that too...”

“That… really was cheesy, Namjoon,” you chuckle.

He smiles down at you, and your heart skips around in your chest. When he speaks again, he draws out the first word, clearly in a teasing mood now.

“Okay, but… did it work?” he teases with a sly grin as he side-eyes you.

Part of you wants to tell him no, but he does deserve honesty after all. At least mostly honesty. You want to reveal to him that you know who he is, but you’re unsure of the words to say. He seems eager to stay in your life here, for whatever reason. Compared to what you’ve just been through, nothing can really hurt you again. So what’s the harm, really? It’s not like you have anyone else to spend time with. 

“Yeah,” you confess. “It did.”

“So,” he begins, “does that mean you’ll let me show you the museum you haven’t been to yet? There’s this once piece in there that is spectacular. You have to let me show you.”

After a considerable silence, he looks at you with soft, begging eyes and lets out a soft “Please?”

“Okay, Namjoon. You got it.”

You cannot say no to this man.

“Saturday then? In the morning? We’ll want to beat the crowd, especially if you want to explore the whole thing!”

“That works for me. You know, I’m actually looking forward to you being my personal tour guide.”

“Great! I guess you really must be from Georgia. You’re sweet, just like a peach.”

[pocket-void]

Some Stuff About Marcus Pt.1

Alright, I’m finally gonna talk about Marcus in more depth for a lil bit because honestly the more I think about him the more I want to talk about him. So I’m gonna do just that! Both for fun and to get some stuff out of my creative system. ^///^

So let’s start with the man himself, shall we?

Marcus

Marcus is my personal version of the mysterious Orange side, and he’s more of an OC than a theory and I just really enjoy talking about him sometimes. So I do! I talk more about what he represents in this post (there’s also other miscellaneous scraps of info about him in the orange side tag), this one is gonna focus more on his exact relationship with each of the other sides (I always welcome more specific asks if you ever wanna know anything else! Since I’m very rambly and believe me when I say that I have answers to basically everything >///<). These are longer than I thought so I’m splitting it up...but if you’re still here, then strap in folks! u///u

Roman

Marcus doesn’t dislike Roman, but he’s not a big fan of him either. Theoretically they could have a better relationship but it’s hindered by a perception of Marcus that someone else had set a long time ago. (We’ll get to that)

One of the bigger reasons why Marcus and Roman don’t quite get along is simply due to their completely opposite levels of self respect. Roman is insecure and often unsure about his accomplishments and how others feel about him, while Marcus is too sure about his skills and how others perceive him. There are clear flaws to both.

In Marcus’ case, it’s made him incredibly stubborn and bitter as a result of being seen as a problem and not being able to do anything. It’s very difficult to convince him he’s wrong, and while he’s not dumb enough to think he’s right about everything, he gets more aggressive than necessary in the face of opposition at times. But more than anything Marcus is honest. He’s blunt and isn’t afraid of just stating how he feels to people, and Roman’s reluctance to do so really bugs him at times. In fact, he’s sometimes angry for him.

The fact that simple phrases can shatter Roman’s entire ego drives Marcus up walls, because if he were in his position he’d probably deck someone in the face right then and there. Being insulted? Getting what he fears most spat at him like venom? Marcus would never stand for that. Beyond that he’s also mad for the people who care about Roman. Why can’t he believe them? Can’t he see how much he’s cared about? How worried people are? Does he really? Marcus thinks that distrust and insecurity feels like an insult to them.

The thing about Marcus is that he’s been through being branded bad and evil. He’s still the bad guy in a couple of ways. He’ll play the bad guy if he has to. He’s over it, though not quite over it as he’d like to be... In a way, he’s also envious of Roman. Roman is important. The others do actually love him. And deep down, Marcus also respects the things he does and doesn’t want him to be crippled by his self doubt because what the two have in common is passion. A drive and determination to do the things they want, and to achieve the goals they aim for. It’s just a shame that their relationship is soured by their general perceptions of each other.

Marcus also just isn’t big on theatrics, but that’s because he uh, can’t see. He likes to make fun of Roman just like anybody else in casual conversation and only ever refers to him as “Red”, “Princey”, or on occasion “Ruby”. He jokingly takes Roman’s threats seriously when they quip, and while they never actually get into fights, Roman is aware that Marcus will actually throw down.

At the end of the day, Marcus wants Roman to consider himself his own hero. He doesn’t understand Roman’s need to keep up an image because he’s never had an image to live up to, let alone anyone who'd look to him for inspiration. Whether Roman likes him or not doesn’t really matter to him, he doesn’t care about people who’ve made up their minds about him and are too set in certain ways of thinking.

Which is hypocrisy at its finest, but we’re not there yet.

Janus

Right off the bat, they do not get along. Which you might find kind of odd, considering they’re both under the umbrella of “dark side”. The truth is, they’re tentative colleagues at best. Hilariously Logan probably gets along with Janus better than Marcus does, and there are a couple very fair reasons behind this.

On the one hand, they both agree on doing things for the “self” (Which in their case is c!Thomas). They both agree that the self should be the most important person in one’s life, and will do whatever it takes to protect it. However, the biggest difference between them is the methods they go about doing so. And it’s here that Marcus’ righteous anger often clashes harshly with Janus’ need for self preservation. Marcus doesn’t lie, he doesn’t see the need to. If he wants something, he’ll do it. If he believes something, he’ll say it. He does it because he knows he’s right, and that’s what matters. Obviously this would cause a lot of problems in real life if you actually are that blunt 24/7, and in those cases Janus has to reign him in quite a bit.

Marcus is fundamentally reckless, brash, and prone to getting carried away if not kept in check, which makes him kind of a danger to Thomas’ wellbeing at times. The thing is, both of them are aware of this. Which is actually why Marcus isn’t as spiteful about stepping down as he could be. He knows that he can do more harm than good if he ever steps out of bounds. This won’t stop him from feeling like his input would infinitely accelerate certain debates, and on a personal level he does still feel like he has the right to fight for that recognition, but he doesn’t because he’s not dumb enough to actively cause harm to others for the sake of himself. It’s not what he wants. What he will and often does do however, is do things that end with him getting hurt in the end. Maybe the reason he disagrees with Janus so much is because his own sense of self preservation is surprisingly poor.

A mildly exaggerated analogy I like to think about is that: If under any circumstance the two of them would have to plot revenge, Janus would focus more on personal safety and Marcus would focus more on personal vindication. Marcus has zero qualms about actually throwing hands, no matter the resulting physical consequence (If his scars were any indication) which Janus would 100% be against. Imagine the consequences of a physical confrontation! Absolutely not. Snake man would prefer more subtle and manipulative tactics, and would probably prefer to frame someone without being implicated himself if possible. They usually compromise, but always butt heads one way or another.

In casual conversation, Marcus is more snarky to Janus than anything. They trade sarcastic remarks often and tend to be a lil snippy, but they often agree on similar points? But also insist that they don’t get along, which is pretty funny. Marcus calls Janus “Yellow” or “Snake”, and sometimes a few yellow flower names like “Tansy” or “Marigold”.

Remus

Would it come as a surprise if I said these two actually get along ok? Think about it: They’re both blunt, forthcoming with their ideas (As wild as Remus’ are), and are at times prone to violence. They’re both seen as “bad” and both have experienced being forcefully repressed one way or another. They kind of just vibe on a similar plane of existence if I’m honest with you. More than that however, both are relatively accepting of themselves, Remus more so than Marcus actually. There are some things Orange unfortunately still has to come to terms with.

On a casual level, they probably can do some pretty reckless and dumb things together. Marcus respects anybody with self confidence really, and the way Remus just owns being the garbage man he is definitely gets a pass in his book. It doesn’t mean they never disagree though. In a lot of ways, Marcus is still tied to logic, and Remus’ chaotic nature isn’t always suited to how he works. They conflict the most when it’s time to put the chips down and actually get things done. Remus totally does his best to bug the hell out of him too, much to his chagrin. He makes it pretty clear how he feels about it, but the duke isn’t fazed. Tackle the blind man, he dares you.

Marcus isn’t exactly good with creative input, it’s not his function. In fact, he himself is actually locked in a very specific type of world view from his experiences over the years. It’s not intentional, he just tends to grow irrational when he gets too heated. Sometimes he forgets to take his hand out of the fires that burn him, and it inevitably comes at a detriment to himself. Remus has the capacity to make him incredibly furious under bad circumstances, and if they aren’t careful he might actually act upon dangerous suggestions that Remus just casually suggests. If Remus is the voice behind intrusive thoughts, Marcus is the impulse that actually acts upon them. He won’t, obviously, but spite and anger can push people to do rash things. They both know better than that of course, but it’s a possibility that will never go away.

Marcus calls Remus “Green”, though he also refers to him by odd green things sometimes like “moss” or “seaweed”. I like to imagine the two of them going off and smashing up random things to blow off steam/just for fun. But that’s just me. u///u

---

If you’re still reading then thank you??? This is honestly more self indulgent than anything, but I just have way too much stuff I could talk about and it needs to go somewhere akjbefkaefk.

I shall talk about the rest in Part 2 perhaps. o///o

[ayankun]

a lil essay of self-psychoanalysis re: hsmtmts & s2 finale

I have this outsider, "objective," kind of 3rd person observation that the stories crafted for Ricky, Nini, Gina, and EJ are great! In the context of, "how nice it is to have these modern, healthy stories modeled for the youth to absorb into their precious minds" spoken by a wise old millennial with a knowing nod.

And I do think that. But what I really mean, deep down, is "!!!!!????? I NEEDED THESE STORIES (?????!!!!!)."

I'm chewing on the fact that youth's media is celebrated when it's successful in Teaching The Youths(tm), or, you know, is just wholesome and positive by whatever standards are deemed wholesome and positive by the adults who are creating it in that moment, even while there's this assumption that in order to do or be those things, the overall product has to be, well, immature. Lacking nuance. Cheesy. Easily digestible by developing minds. ie, developed minds should not be able to enjoy the end result, and will in fact be looked at strangely when they admit that they do. (because enjoying products intended for immature minds is a sign of immaturity)

So yes, I do and have grappled with a need to "manage" my interest in this franchise, specifically the movies, as an adult. To casually never bring it up, you know? Because they're dumb movies for dumb kids, and I was a legal adult when they came out. Fifteen years ago. Even though, over the last fifteen years, it's constantly been something that I can engage with as-is, AND I've seen it evolve with me as I evolved, in that I have been consistently able to project some hyper-specific perspectives back into it and still see them echoed back to me when I needed the external validation (Troy Bolton is AFAB, Taylor is ace, etc).

High School Musical is just fucking important to me.

So now this new show comes out, and obviously it's millennial-bait because we're the only ones who would care -- we were the Youths targeted by this Youth Media, after all -- but it's fifteen years later and the post-Youth Adults are told it's not cool to be into kids' shows, and the kids (Gen-Z folks, who are themselves also sometimes literal adults today), may or may not even targetable by commercial media at all, much less tempted by a bygone relic of a prior culture. So who is this show for? The fans or the kids?

And the answer is yes. Yes. It's for the fans and the kids. Anybody who can get something out of it should get something out of it. And they show this by having Gen-Z characters alongside Millennial characters, and they're having these Millennials speak from experience, not all of us grew up to be Troy Boltons, some of us (and some of you) will be Coach Boltons, and Ms. Darbuses, or whatever else you want to be, because we were told we had to want to be championship basketball players and Broadway stars, and we had to learn on our own that being a pizza man or helping out on the family farm is okay, too.

So that's my appreciation of the standards that are deemed wholesome and positive by the adults who are creating Youth Media in this particular moment. BUT IN ADDITION TO THAT, the craftsmanship of the vehicle for these messages is astronomically higher-brow than most mature media created by and for mature adults, so I'm also having to re-learn something that I already knew, in that Youth Media = Trash is just an unfair stereotype that perpetuates the righteousness of those that will bully others for engaging with "trash" when they ought to have better (less immature) tastes, and perpetuates my state of "oh, better never tell anyone about the things that are important touchstones for me and my personal history, because they'll get the wrong impression & think less of me." Which is, as you may know, a perspective that bleeds into every last aspect of my social life, and generally has made just being a human pretty overwhelming to date.

I need to (attempt to) stop wasting my time on people who are going to judge me for being authentic. If anything, I need to start judging them. I need to learn that I'm not doing anything wrong, just being me. I honestly don't know if that sounds believable, that I haven't learned this yet.

So yeah, HSMTMTS. I'm not a kid who needs a helping hand through my formative years. That's what HSM was for. What can this show offer me, someone who is 15-20 years older than its target demographic? Oh, only everything?

When I say, I'm so glad to see these stories told --

I'm glad Ricky gets to understand how his unexamined trauma has affected his (social) life, and I'm thrilled that he gets to work on finding productive ways forward even though that path looks different than the one he thought he wanted;

I'm glad Nini gets to find her voice, her independence, her sense of self through creative expression, and get to feel that validation from putting herself out there and getting something back from an appreciative audience, even when doing the thing that's right for her appears inherently selfish, I'm glad she gets to be selfish;

I'm joyous that Gina gets to take a risk on dropping her mask and being her authentic self, to find a place where she can be the person she is, where she's appreciated for being exactly that and not some can-do persona she's constructed, that she gets to find satisfaction in being vulnerable and understanding her own needs, and that she's told time and time again, "stop running, you idiot, this is home, we want you here;"

I'm staggeringly sympathetic with EJ's sense of "shit, I'm so dumb and I overstepped and ruined everything, shit shit shit what's wrong with me," 'cause hell I've been there too many times and it's all-consuming and awful, but I'm euphoric at his courage to go out on that limb, and I'm vicariously smitten as all heck that he gets to experience what it's like to have those feelings reciprocated in the end --

I don't really mean that I'm glad the Youth of America get to have their impressionable minds sculpted while there's still the chance to sculpt them, I'm saying any person of any age can find resonance in these stories, and that I, SPECIFICALLY, AN OLD-ASS MILLENNIAL, FIND AN OVERWHELMING AMOUNT OF RESONANCE IN THESE STORIES THAT ARE PAINFULLY AND BEAUTIFULLY IMPORTANT FOR ME TO ENGAGE WITH TODAY AND CERTAINLY FOR MANY DAYS TO COME.

And I'm going to stop judging myself for that.

[elsanna-shenanigans]

August Contest Submission #13: Icy Justice And Poisonous Roses

Words: ca. 4,500 Setting: Modern AU (Superheroes) Lemon: No CW: graphic violence, mentioned character death, trauma, acid burns, enemies to lovers, poisons

Elsa wasn’t a fan of these formal gatherings. Not that she didn’t enjoy a good party or enjoy dressing up, but mainly because of the sorts of people that were usually in attendance. People who cared more about the money in their pockets than the betterment of others.

Still, Elsa was the most eligible woman in the city and probably the richest woman in this room, so she had to keep up appearances, lest people suspect what she did in the hours she wasn’t running her company or attending gatherings such as this.

She stood by the window, gazing down at Arendelle City, wondering if she was doing enough for this city. Granted, things had gotten better, police reforms, elimination of the more corrupt members of the city’s elite, but still there was suffering in the streets and for every supervillain locked away, someone more powerful and dangerous likely took their place.

It was a long war, a war that Elsa often wondered the point of fighting for. But then she remembered her parents, of the man who had taken them from her, the pain that had caused her, pain that had awoken the power within her.

“Enjoying the view?” a voice spoke to Elsa.

Elsa turned around, seeing an acquaintance of hers, Hans Westerguard, walk over to her, offering her a glass of champagne. She should have been talking to him more tonight, what with this being the fundraiser for his mayoral campaign and Elsa being a major donor.

Hans wasn’t exactly a perfect individual, but considering he was running against candidates that were a mob boss who posed as a philanthropist and a businesswoman who Elsa knew had been supplying tech and resources to supervillains, he was the lesser of three evils.

He had a good sense of justice about him, being the current district attorney. Though, Elsa had hoped he could do more with his position. She hoped that by donating so much to his campaign, she might be able to sway him to enact more progressive policies once he was in office.

Though of course, he had to get into office first.

“Oh, Hans,” Elsa replied, fiddling with her braid and blushing a little. She was good at putting on a shy, flustered dork act, a deliberate act to play up her more casual nature in her secret identity. “I didn’t see you there.”

“You seemed to be staring off into space there,” Hans remarked. “Care for a drink?”

“No, I’m driving myself home tonight,” Elsa responded.

“Really?” Hans remarked. “I’d have figured you’d have gotten your butler to handle it.”

“Kai has the night off, visiting some old girlfriend of his,” Elsa explained. Kai had been working himself too hard down in Elsa’s hideout of late, so she’d given him the night off.

“Fair enough,” Hans admitted, walking up beside her. “So… what do you suspect my chances are?”

“Of what?”

“Winning the election.”

“Oh,” Elsa said. “Well, the election isn’t for another month or so Hans. There’s still plenty of time to go.”

“Yes, but as you’re my largest donor, you must have a lot of faith in me,” Hans stated, looking smugly.

Elsa rolled her eyes. She had to at least humour the man. “Well, since you asked so nicely… I think you’re the city’s best chance. You’ve actually got policies that seem to be what the city needs. The others just want to uphold the status quo that has caused so many innocent people to suffer.”

“Why thank you.” Hans said, sipping his drink “Though I think an endorsement from that wonderful hero Fenris would probably seal the deal for me in this election.”

Elsa chuckled. “I don’t think superheroes are meant to give that sort of political statement.”

“True, but she’s done more good for this city in the last three years than anyone else… well except…” The two of them then saw a woman with short dark hair and wearing a rather snazzy tuxedo walking towards them. Though she didn’t exactly look very comfortable here.

“Commissioner Espinosa, good to see you here!”

“Westergard,” the commissioner replied flatly.

Elsa smiled. Cassandra Espinosa was one of Elsa’s closest friends, one of the few people she shared her secret with. Despite Cassandra being a policewoman, she was actually living up to what a police officer should be, not someone who gleefully enacted brutality on innocent people, values much more like those of her father, the previous commissioner.

“Enjoying the party?” Hans wondered. “You must not get a chance like this often other than maybe the annual policeman’s ball.”

“To tell you the truth, I’m only here because we got a tip earlier that someone might be targeting you tonight,” Cass stated. “You have pretty lax security here.”

“Cass, I’ve helped to put away some of the nastiest criminals in this city, I’ve learned to live with people wanting to kill me. One more threat against my life isn’t going to change that.”

“Mr Westerguard?” someone called to him from the crowd. “The governor wants to talk to you!”

“Oh, excellent,” Hans replied. “Ladies, if you’ll excuse me.”

As Hans left, Elsa and Cassandra stood alone, Cass leaning against the wall and sighing. Elsa leaned close to her, wanting to give her friend some reassurance.

“Good man, but I wish he’d look out for himself more,” she remarked. “Anything on your end, Els?”

“Not exactly,” Elsa admitted. “I’m starting to think tonight might be a quiet night for once.” She smirked playfully. “At least you got to wear your tux again.”

“Yeah well, take a look while it lasts,” Cass grumbled.

“I know my cousin would,” Elsa remarked. “Surprised Raps isn’t with you tonight.”

“Yeah well, after what happened the last time I took her out,” Cass remarked. “I figured it best she stayed at home.”

Elsa sighed. Cassandra was dating her cousin and childhood best friend Rapunzel. A few months back, while the two were on a date, a sniper hired by a mob boss had tried to assassinate Cassandra. They’d failed, but Rapunzel had been gravely injured. Elsa didn’t blame her for wanting to keep her cousin safe.

“Still, aren’t you two planning to tie the knot soon?” Elsa wondered. “You’ve been together long enough.”

“I… I don’t know,” Cass admitted. “It’s hard finding a good balance between her and my work. I’m worried marriage might… complicate things.”

“I know how you feel,” Elsa replied. “It’s why I’ve honestly never had much luck with relationships myself.” That was a lie. There was one woman in the world she still loved… though she was partly ashamed to admit it, even to Cassandra.

Suddenly, the entire building started to shake. Elsa thought there was an earthquake and quickly grabbed onto something. There was panic and commotion across the ballroom, Cassandra grabbing onto a nearby wall for support. Screams and cries filled the room.

“What the fuck is going on?!” Cass shouted.

Elsa tried to reach for her watch, but she found there was no need to, as she then saw several large vines rising up from the side of the building pressing against the windows. She gasped, looking straight at Cass in terror as a dark shadow overwhelmed them.

“CASS LOOK OUT!” Elsa shouted, tackling Cass to the ground as the vine crashed through the window.

All across the ballroom, there was utter chaos as the gigantic vines smashed into the room, knocking people over left and right, firmly entrenching themselves into the walls of the building.

In the middle of the room, the largest of the gigantic vines smashed through the window, a gigantic flower at its tip. As it stopped in its tracks, the large flower burst open, releasing a gas that caused all those around it to cough and splutter. Through the smoke, a figure emerged from the blooming pink flower, a rather revealing woman in a skintight pink and purple outfit with green highlights and long red hair.

“Rosethorn,” Cass whispered.

Elsa blushed and looked away. Anna… why now…

“You gonna deal with her?” Cass wondered.

Nodding reluctantly, Elsa looked at Cass. “Try and keep her distracted, but don’t hurt her too bad… she’s still my sister.”

“Elsa, she’s trying to kill people!” Cass argued in a hushed whisper.

“I can see that but she’s still family!” Elsa rasped.

Cass grumbled. “You know if she was my sister, I wouldn’t hesitate but fine, I’ll make sure I won’t do any permanent damage to her.”

“Thank you,” Elsa said gratefully, before she quickly ran out of the room, Cass pulling her pistol from her pocket.

Elsa rushed out of the bathroom, making her way through the panicking, scared crowds. As she arrived in the room, she looked at herself in the mirror, making sure she was alone.

To think that tonight she’d have to face her sister again. The two sisters had always been close as children, virtually inseparable. But that all had changed one fateful night. Her wealthy parents had taken Elsa out to see a movie, but Anna had to stay home and do her homework.

Anna had been spared in a way, as on their way home from the movies, Elsa and her parents were attacked by a mugger. The mugger had killed their parents without a second thought, gunning them down. In a rage… something had awoken inside of Elsa, a power that no other human had.

As she got older, she learned how to control this power, a power to manipulate ice and snow to her whim. She soon discovered that some people had the rare chance of being born with such powers, people who were later dubbed Metahumans. While Elsa’s had been the power to control ice, Anna’s power was somewhat different.

A few months after the funeral, Elsa had discovered Anna’s powers had awakened as well, the power to control plants and other forms of vegetation. As elated as Anna was at using her new powers, Elsa was worried about her, about them both. At this time, Elsa had decided to hone her powers and train herself in the arts of combat and science so she might one day fight to protect the innocent people of Arendelle City, so that no other child would go through what she and Anna had.

Anna on the other hand… was a different story. Her plant-based powers had made her infatuated with nature. At first, Elsa was glad that Anna was using her love for nature to cope with her parents’ grief. But as they got older, Anna started to get more involved in environmental work.

More than once, Elsa had to bail Anna out of jail for getting involved in protests and the like. She worried Anna was going down a dark path. Yes, protecting the environment was a noble goal… but Anna seemed obsessed. And then one night, Elsa’s worst fears were confirmed when she found Anna attempting to strangle the CEO of one of her business partners.

“Anna let him go!”

“No, he has to pay! All their kind have to pay! They’re choking the planet to death, Elsa, and no one is doing a damn thing about it!”

“And that justifies you being a murderer?!”

“Why do you care? I thought you’d be happy seeing scum like this die, after what happened to our parents!”

“What?! Anna, No!”

And then Anna had used her vine to snap the man’s neck. A fight broke out between them, Elsa blasting Anna with her ice powers… and leaving a permanent mark in the form of a white streak in her hair. Elsa looked down, wondering when this nightmare would end.

She loved Anna, she always had… but at this point she had to accept that her sister was truly dead, replaced by a monster that now called herself Rosethorn.

Pressing a button on her watch, Elsa watched it transform into a device that released dozens of tiny nanobots that she then rearranged and merged with her ice, forming a wolf-themed armour and long cape that completed concealed her body, the symbol of her alter ego, Fenris appearing on her chest.

Elsa looked at her masked face in the mirror, glaring sternly. “This will be the last friend of mine you hurt, Anna. I swear it.”

———————————————————————————-

Anna grinned wickedly as she sat on her throne of vines as her large tendrils wrapped themselves around the building, bursting through the windows of the ballroom. She watched as the pitiful humans ran in fear, taking a certain delight in what was happening.

Rich fools. Their kind loved to pollute and terrorise the environment, now they would know what it was like to be terrorised. The large pods on the side of the vine that Anna was riding on burst open, releasing toxic gas into the room that caused those surrounding the tendril to cough and splutter.

But while watching the humans suffer was delightful, she had a more important goal in mind, one of these pathetic fools in particular. Hans Westerguard was running for his life, trying to make it to a nearby door. However, Anna sent one of her vines forward, blocking his path.

"Now where are you off to, Mr Westerguard?” Anna sultrily remarked, getting off her throne. “We have important business to discuss.”

Hans turned, realising he’d have to hold her off. “What do you want, Anna?”

“Why, my dear, you of course,” Anna said, stroking the underside of his chin with her gloved hand. “I’ve waited a long time for this.”

“Look, Anna, I know I’ve made mistakes, but this isn’t right?”

“Isn’t right?!” Anna yelled. “Oh, it is very much right, Mr Distrct Attourney. You lined your pockets with all the greedy fuckers in this town who destroy and pollute the earth around you, who tore up innocent grassland to build a Metahuman prison where I was tortured!”

“They were trying to help you!”

“Help me?! I don’t need help!” Anna growled, wrapping tendrils around his neck. “I’ve dedicated my life to protecting this planet and all of its natural beauty. If that’s so wrong, then I’d prefer not to be right.”

Hans choked and gagged, struggling to breathe. “Anna… Ack!”

“What’s that Hans? I can’t quite hear you over the innocent people you’ve stepped on!” Anna growled. Suddenly, she heard a loud gunshot. A bullet flew through the air and pierced one of the tendrils around Hans’s neck. Anna screamed, feeling the pain like it was one of her own limbs as Hans was freed.

Cassandra, along with a few other out of uniform police officers and security guards, had arrived, taking aim at Anna with their pistols. “Come quietly, Rosethorn!”

“You’d protect him, officers?!” Anna remarked. “Such a deplorable monster who would be better off locked up in jail?”

“Look who’s talking, red,” Cass growled. “Put down the tentacles and I promise you, you won’t get hurt.”

“Dear, dear commissioner,” Anna chuckled. “I have no intention of doing anything of the sort. However

"Then, I’ll take you out as well!” Anna roared, sending another flurry of vines at the officers, the ends of the tendrils opening into mouths full of razor-sharp teeth.

The vines disarmed the other officers quickly, one of them literally disarming one man, spewing blood all over the ground from the severed limb. Not wanting to suffer the same fate, Cass quickly ducked out of the way, unloading a few bullets from her pistol into two of the vines.

However, she wasn’t fast enough, as a third quickly rushed up behind her. But Cass could be attacked by the vine, a blast of icy wind quickly froze the tentacles and a sharp sword made of a mix of ice and metal quickly slashed them apart. Fenris then stood, her wolf-like appearance and glowing blue visor making for an intimidating look.

“Ah, my dear arch enemy,” Anna said with a laugh. “Figured you’d be coming to the rescue of the oppressors.”

“The only person oppressing people is you, Rosethorn,” Fenris stated, pulling out her sword. She looked over at Hans, who was stumbling to his feet. “You alright, Mr Westerguard?”

“Fine, now that you’re here,” he groaned.

Rosethorn cackled. “I think it’s time I dealt with you first, my frozen foe. Let’s see if this will melt your icy armour!” She then sent out one of her tendrils behind Elsa, which shot out a glob of acid.

Hans’s eyes widened. “Look out!” He yelled, to which Elsa was barely able to react in time. Hans then leapt in the path of the glob of acid… and was struck in the face. He screamed and cried out in pain, writhing on the floor as the acid melted his face.

“Hans!” Fenris exclaimed, rushing to his side. She was almost sick at the sight of the injuries on Hans’s face.

“Oh well, I doubt he’ll be running for office anytime soon,” Anna remarked as she jumped onto one of her tendrils. “Time for me to make like a tree and leaf.”

Elsa turned to look at Anna, then she gazed down at Hans, who was still in agony. Cassandra rushed to Hans’s side, looking up at her.

“Go after her, I’ll take care of Hans and the wounded,” she reassured her.

“Thank you,” Elsa replied, before she then got up and rushed after Anna, the latter’s tentacles retracting from the building and coalescing into some kind of gigantic tentacled plant creature that leapt across the rooftops. Elsa stared at the Lovecraftian horror that Anna was controlling, wondering how powerful Anna was now.

Leaping from the window, Elsa used her ice powers to alter the shape of her cape into a pair of icy wings and activated jet boosters in her boots that sent her flying through the sky after Anna. Summoning her ice sword, she slashed through one of the tentacles.

Anna cried out as her creature rocked about from the loss of one of its limbs. “Gah!!”

“Take this!” Elsa shouted, blasting the tentacled creature with her powers. The creature managed to dodge the attack and one of its tendrils wrapped around Elsa, throwing her down onto a nearby rooftop. Anna then leapt down from her creature, summoning blades made of thorns that she slashed at Elsa with.

Elsa brought out her ice sword again, clashing it against Anna’s blade. Anna summoned her tentacles again, trying to attack Elsa with them. Elsa turned around, quickly taking out all the tentacles with ice spikes that brought Anna to her knees with pain, as Elsa quickly blasted her tentacle creature apart with an icy blast.

Reeling from the pain, Anna then screamed in agony her eyes glowing a sickening green as a gigantic tendril burst from the ground beneath them, quickly wrapping around Elsa tightly. The blonde tried to fight, but this tendril’s grip was much tighter, Anna pouring all her strength into it.

“How about a little spin!” Anna cried out, commanding her tentacle to spin Elsa round and round as fast as it could, before launching her into the sky. Elsa screamed as she was flung across an entire city block. She eventually landed though, crashing into an abandoned building a few streets away, smashing through a window.

As she rolled on the floor in pain, Elsa grunted. “Damage report.”

“Nanosuit integrity at 65%,” her suits onboard computer reported. “Minor external and internal injuries, recommend evasive action.”

“No way,” Elsa argued. “Anna’s madness ends tonight one way or another.”

“Where are you?~” Anna called out in a sing-songy voice. Elsa grunted, and rushed into a nearby stairwell, cloaking her retreat with an icy mist. She headed down a nearby stairwell, panting heavily. She was still shaken up from the impact, but she needed to get away from Anna.

If she could lull Anna into a false sense of security, she could jump her and take her out easily. But of course, she needed the essence of surprise first. She looked in the corner of her eyes, watching Anna’s tentacles quickly rushing down the stairs. She ducked into another room to avoid them.

Using the technology in her mask, Elsa scanned the building around her. This was once an office building, which meant large open rooms, not many places to hide.

“Don’t think you can hide from me for long, ” she heard Anna’s voice again. “I’ll always find you, my dear sister.”

Elsa didn’t respond, merely continuing to scan the room. Eventually, she managed to find herself an air vent. It didn’t take much effort to freeze the grate and smash it apart so she could climb inside. Crawling up the vent, Elsa rested and panted. Anna likely wouldn’t be able to find her here.

“What’s the matter, Elsa?” Anna remarked. “Nothing to say to your dear sister?”

“My sister is dead!” Elsa shouted, crawling down the air vent.

“Yeah right, keep telling yourself that,” Anna told her. “You should be grateful I haven’t blown your secret identity by now.”

“What’s stopping you?”

“Because I still carry a torch for you, Elsa,” Anna argued. “Hell, part of me once hoped we could do this together, make the world pay for what it’s done. To itself… to us.”

“I’m not a killer,” Elsa replied, crawling further. She looked through her visor, seeing that Anna was directly in the room below her, vines surrounding her. She had the element of surprise now.

“Neither was Hans, yet he’s just as guilty as one, what with his connections and dirty money,” Anna argued. “No one in this world is innocent, Elsa.”

“Says the woman who just burned a man’s face off with acid!” Elsa argued, crashing through a nearby vent right behind Anna. She rushed up with her ice sword and slashed at Anna, razor-sharp thorns then extending from Anna’s gloves to act as Claws. The two sisters fought one another.

It was surprising how evenly matched they were. Elsa had trained herself to the physical peak, while Anna had enhanced her own strength and agility thanks to her many, many plant-based serums. However, in this particular round, Anna was able to get the upper hand, as her tentacles managed to knock Elsa back, smashing her mask apart. Before it could regenerate, Anna slashed Elsa’s face with her claws.

Elsa grunted as she clutched her cheek in pain, blood oozing from it. Her suit was much too damaged at this point to start regenerating itself, leaving her at Anna’s mercy.

“Don’t think of trying to move, Elsa,” Anna replied, walking closer to her. “My thorns were tipped with poison. Not strong enough to kill you, mind you, oh no, I don’t want to kill my beautiful sister. But it’ll make you as weak as a kitten.”

Tentacles wrapped around Elsa, restraining her to the floor. The tentacles pressed against Elsa’s face, forcing her to look up as Anna stood above her. Elsa felt her heart beating as she gazed at Anna. As she looked into Anna’s eyes, she was reminded of her sister.

How beautiful and sweet she was, how much she wanted to protect her and love her, more than a sister would. But that was a lifetime ago. And yet… part of her wanted this, a part of herself that ashamed Elsa. Anna leaned in, caressing Elsa’s cheek, bringing her face closer and closer.

“You want this, don’t you?” she whispered. “You can still be a hero with me, Elsa. Only you’ll be a hero who actually makes a difference instead of upholding the pathetic status quo.”

“I won’t become… a murderer!” Elsa spat, Anna retreating.

“Why are you so against killing?!” Anna shouted. “Just accept that for things to be right in the world, some people just have to die! The corrupt CEOs, the politicians who line their pockets with dirty money while they let corporations pollute the planet!”

“There are laws, Anna!” Elsa argued. “They can be held accountable for their crimes!”

“And how often does that happen?” Anna replied. “Sure, you’re making change, but it’s not fast enough. The planet is already choking to death and in order to save it, more… radical action must be taken.”

“You don’t think I don’t know that, Anna!” Elsa argued.

“Then why don’t you do something about it!” Anna shouted.

“Because…” Elsa stopped herself.

“Because what?”

Elsa looked down. She had never shared this with Anna, this secret she’d kept buried for all these years. But if she was going to die here… then she should die with Anna knowing how much she never wanted this, for either of them.

“Because… I know what it’s like to feel tempted to take such action,” Elsa replied. “Because I’ve…. I’ve killed before.”

“That’s a lie,” Anna argued. “You said it yourself that you aren’t a killer.”

“No, *that* was the lie,” Elsa insisted. “Do you… do you know what happened to the person who shot our parents, Anna?”

“He… He got away,” Anna said, her voice shaky. “You said the cops found no sign of him. It’s… It’s what started me down this path, of wanting to get my own sense of justice.”

“I… I lied to the police, Anna,” Elsa expressed. “That night, after that bastard shot our parents, something inside of me awoke, something powerful… I lashed out at the guy as he ran and I… I froze him solid and he shattered before my eyes, Anna. The moment I first used my powers… I killed someone.”

“I…” Anna was stunned by the revelation.

“I regretted it, I didn’t want to indulge in the anger that I felt that night,” Elsa expressed. “I didn’t want to become a mindless monster, a killer. I’d be no better than the man I killed, perpetuating an endless cycle of violence. That’s why I did my best to stop you going down that path.”

“And… I failed,” Anna realised, tearing up. “All this time… I thought you didn’t understand me, that you thought I was crazy… but in reality, you cared about me more than anyone.”

“I even pleaded against the rough torture you had in prison,” Elsa expressed. “They wouldn’t listen to me. Don’t you get it, Anna? I love you, more than anyone else in the world… but I can’t let you hurt anyone ever again.”

“I… I love you too,” Anna whispered. She started to cry more and with a flick of her wrist, her vines let Elsa go. “Please… just go.”

“Anna… I can’t go,” Elsa argued. “I need to bring you in.”

“No, I won’t go back to prison again!” Anna argued. “Why can’t anyone have seen that I was doing good… why didn’t you try and help me!” She broke down in tears and wrapped her arms around Elsa. Her villainous persona had completely broken and for the first time in years, Elsa saw her sister again.

Wrapping her arms around Anna, Elsa stroked her sister’s hair, listening to the sound of Anna’s shaky breathing as she held her. God, she hadn’t held Anna like this in… well she’d honestly forgotten it was so long. But to have Anna, her Anna, let her do this… it felt rewarding to her.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” Anna whispered. “I’ve been such a fool… I’ve been going at this so wrong.”

“Shhhh,” Elsa whispered, going fully into her big sister mode. “Everything’s gonna be okay… I’m going to be right here, Anna, like I’ve always been.”

Anna pulled away and the two sisters gazed into each other’s eyes, holding one another close. Both of them felt gravity pulling them together, part of them knowing that they needed the other now. Yes, they had been enemies… but now, perhaps they were something different.

And then… Elsa and Anna leaned in and shared a tender, passionate kiss. Neither of them knew what was in for the two of them next, but at this moment, all they wanted was to be together, as they kept kissing in the light of the moon shimmering through a nearby window, tears streaming down both of their cheeks.

[mockinggold]

Excerpt from everyone changes (and my darling we are no exception)

“It was no secret that Shouto's family was extremely well off. Both of his parents were successful in the medical field, but Shouto considered them humble. They didn't have one of those gargantuan houses or unnecessarily expensive clothing. They got what they needed, some of what they wanted, and didn't flaunt their wealth. His mother was usually quite generous. She knew that their family had more money than they needed, so she donated to charities, tipped minimum wage workers well, was overall generous.

Even when Shouto told her that his ex-boyfriend's house burned down, she decided to help out. Shouto was friends with all of his exes except one (who can get second degree burns in hell. Not third, Shouto wanted that bitch to feel every ounce of pain, that scum doesn't deserve any scorched nerves), and even though they had been broken up, Shouto and his mother were happy to help because he was a good person and they talked and caught up with each other from time to time. Rei grew up in a third-world country, immigrating to Shouto's home country to become a doctor. Shouto doesn't remember, but his mother loved to tell Shouto about how when he was two, he walked around the courtroom with a purpose as Rei was getting her citizenship.

Shouto's father wasn't as generous as his mother was. Enji wasn't too fond of the idea of helping Shouto's ex for some weird reason that Shouto is too embarrassed to admit. His parents got into a mild argument about it and Shouto felt awkward watching it happen. They worked it out, they always did.

One day, Shouto asked his mother a question about it. "Mom," he started. "You're extremely generous with money. I understand why; we have the means to do so. Why is dad so much more conservative with money?"

"Well, it's rooted in our upbringings," she said. "When I was in Peru, my family was dirt poor. We didn't have the best furniture, the best home, but we still invited people over, because we had a lot of love to give. I wanted to have a better life for my family. A house that could meet its needs and still be filled with love.

Rei looked up at the sky as the two of them sat on the porch. The sun beginning to disappear as it painted the houses golden also caused the weather to cool down, the cooling concrete taking away heat ever so slightly from the underside of his legs. A couple of cars were parked on the side of the road. People that didn't live in the neighborhood didn't come by very often. Seeing as Shouto's neighborhood was a no outlet neighborhood, it was useless for them to do so.

Rei pointed at the cars lined up on the curb. "Back in Peru, we didn't go near parked cars," she said softly. Shouto tilted his head, waiting for her to explain. "It wasn't uncommon for cars to explode. Terrorists would rig cars and they would explode. Sometimes I would be walking with my friends and we heard a faint explosion and smoke rise. We would keep going because it was relatively common. It was a little scary, but at that point, we were used to it, we became numb to the fear."

Shouto imagined a scenario where he would be walking down the street and a car exploded because of terrorists. It would definitely make headlines all around, maybe national news depending on how many people got hurt. The thought irked him, yet his mother spoke about it so casually.

She waved her hand dismissively. "But I'm getting off-topic," she said. "Do you know how I was able to afford this home, this lifestyle?"

Shouto was pretty sure he wasn't supposed to answer, so he leaned in, waiting for an answer.

"I got lucky."

Shouto scrunched his nose, not sure if he fully agreed with his mother. "But... you worked extremely hard to get where you are."

"Yes, I worked hard, but there's so much more to it. Tell me, do you know how many people immigrate to this country a year in hopes of a better life?"

Shouto thought long and hard, not a hundred percent sure on what the correct answer was. "I don't know," he admitted.

"Millions," his mother stressed. "Millions of people come into this country, legally and illegally, in order to make a better life for themselves. They work hard, do everything they can, work for ten, twelve hours a day to make a living, get an education, work just as hard as I did. Do you know how many of those millions get in a similar position to us?"

Shouto shook his head. Rei had a weak smile on her face. "Not many," she said. "Have I ever told you the story of how I got a visa?"

Shouto shook his head, now extremely intrigued. With a soft smile, she looked to the other houses that lined the streets. "Back when I was married to my first husband, with your two half-siblings, I went to get a visa for three months here. I was going to travel across the country for different job interviews. I gave the woman the papers, she read them over, and she shook her head."

Shouto's eyes slightly widened, confused as to why they would deny him a visa. "She told me, 'No. I cannot give you a visa. You stated that your mother and sister live here. You will just stay with them after your visa expires.' And I was shocked, heartbroken, scared. I needed that visa."

Shouto leaned in even more, wanting to hear more and more of what his mother had to say. "And I looked at her, and I said, 'No, you're wrong.' I'll never forget the look of shock she had when I told her that. I said, 'I didn't have to tell you about my mother and sister. I could have lied and said I had no family here and you would have never known. I came to you an honest woman because I need these job interviews. I will not stay with my mother and sister. I have three reasons that I can't, and they are sitting in the waiting room right now. So please, may I have this visa?'"

Shouto was speechless, he wasn't sure what to say to that, knowing his mother argued her way into the country. He always knew that his mother had that type of drive, but he had no idea that something like that ever happened. "She looked at me with a confused and shocked face. She told me, 'This is highly irregular, I need to go speak to my manager'. She must have only been gone for five minutes, but those were some of the longest five minutes of my life. Finally, she came back. And she looked at me and said, 'Seventeen days. Your job interviews will span about seventeen days, that's all I'm giving you.' And she stamped my visa and handed it to me. I almost collapsed at that moment, but I got my visa. That was January 15th, 1991. Do you know what happened the next day?"

Shouto once again shook his head. "January 16th, 1991. The United States invaded Kuwait. Desert Storm. That day, all the embassies closed down for months, nobody could get visas," she said.

It made him extremely uneasy to hear about how his mother almost wasn't allowed in the country. He already knew that she was there illegally for a short amount of time. He knew that two of his sisters and his brother came to the country illegally. Because according to them, it was hard as hell to get into the country legally, it was their only option.

"So to go back to your original question," Rei said. "Our mindsets and upbringings are what makes your father and I think so much different about money. I feel like I got a lot of the money I have now by luck, making me feel like I can be generous because I was close to not having it, I know what it's like to not have it. Your father, on the other hand, grew up in a middle-class home and is now in the upper-middle class. He feels that he earned every cent of his, which makes him more hesitant to give it away. And there's nothing wrong with that. Just like political ideologies, there's nothing wrong with wanting to hold onto your finances as long as nobody is getting harmed in the process. Hard work, getting lucky, the two are polar opposites, but you'll see that in those less fortunate. They are willing to give away things to others in need because they know what it's like.

Shouto was not a huge fan of being touched, it was no secret after he had to spill a couple at the mental hospital, but one thing he loved was when his mother would ruffle his hair gently like she did when he was small. She raised her hand and hovered it towards Shouto, knowing now that he liked warning when someone was going to touch him. He scooted closer to his mother, leaning forward. With a smile, she ruffled his hair, making him feel safe.”

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Anyway I just think my dad has the most swag in the world