#like if that character had been played by a twelve- to fourteen-year-old i might have bought it

[jensenscomedyelbows]

Oversharing on the Internet

Thanks for the tag, Riz @lastcallatrockysbar 😃 This is so old I bet you forgot you sent it to me! But I like to SURPRISE people when they least expect it!

ONE: Are you named after anyone?

My middle name is my grandmother’s first name, and I gave it to my daughter for hers too 😊

TWO: When was the last time you cried?

Well, I haven’t today yet, so I guess…yesterday? I’m a crier! I cry at stupid stuff e v e r y day!

THREE: Do you have kids?

One.

FOUR: Do you use sarcasm a lot?

You know, I definitely used to, BUT…my kid’s an adult now, and I realize I’ve rubbed off on her in the worst way, because she is literally so sarcastic that I often don’t know how to take what she says, and now I haaaaaaate it. I mean, be who you are, but you might be annoying. I was annoyingly, heavily sarcastic for the majority of my life! #oldpeoplerealizations

FIVE:

What sports sports do you play/have you played?

Lol.

SIX: What’s the first thing you notice about people?

The very first thing? If they’re smiling or not. Like, I notice the FACE. I usually know pretty fast whether or not we can vibe based on your face the first time I meet you. Also: there are very few faces I can’t vibe with ��

SEVEN: What’s your eye color?

Blue

EIGHT: Scary movies or happy endings?

Scary movie with ultimately, a happy ending. Give me all the feels! Dark ones especially! Terrify me, break my heart! Freak me out! But do it all then have it all work out in the end for all the characters. 🌈

NINE: Any special talents?

Absolutely not.

TEN: Where were you born?

Waco, Texas

ELEVEN: What are your hobbies?

Reading, music, Supernatural in general, Dean in specific, my grandkids, Barbies, Transformers, Hot Wheels 😂 and ooh, I love television in general. I’m rewatching both The Sopranos for the first time since watching live waaaay back in the day, Atlanta all the way through for the first time since it aired live, and Battlestar Galactica with like three YouTube reactors for like the 8th? time? Undetermined. Anyway, yes I love TV and have seen just about everything, including Reality TV. It’s been like…17 years! I’m a Survivor superfan! You’d be shocked and appalled at my massive knowledge of Bravo TV show trivia. Also I know Supernatural like the back of my hand, which should go without saying. I’ve probably seen it 10000000X 🩷

TWELVE: Any pets?

I WISH.

THIRTEEN: How tall are you?

Six feet.

FOURTEEN: Favorite subject in school?

English.

FIFTEEN: Dream job

Had it, won’t bore you with the details, but I loved what I did and I was VERY good at it, and the possibilities I’ll never know because of MS. #justfacts

I’m not tagging anybody, but I apologize if you inadvertently had to read this. Here are some flowers 🌸🌺🌼🪻🪷🌻🌹🌷

[marypsue]

Anyway! While I’m on the subject of big-budget franchises with David Harbour and extremely affected Russian accents in them (she says, several days after making the first such post), I have a number of (mostly uncomplimentary) thoughts about how the Russians in Stranger Things season 3 are constructed and written and framed, but they all pretty much boil down to “Steve knocking out the Russian guard in a fistfight is classic propaganda”. 

The villains of s1 and s2 can best be described as, well, sometimes the bad guys are smart too. The Lab and the Mind Flayer are competent. They are threatening. When they work in secret, they’re very difficult to detect. Their motivations appear to be largely internally consistent, and to exist independently of Our Heroes (well, up until s3, anyway). Their actions have logic behind them and are intended to help achieve their goals. They pose a genuine challenge to and even frequently outwit or outfight Our Heroes - except when it really counts.

By comparison, the Russians in s3 are cardboard props for Our Heroes to knock down. Not a single one of them has a distinct personality beyond ‘funny accent villain’ (except maybe the Terminator expy, who is a Terminator expy). They act as plot devices, not characters; their actions don’t always seem to have a consistent internal logic behind them, and don’t always even benefit them or move them toward what poorly-defined goals they might have. Rather, they’re reduced to whatever the writers think will, in the moment, make them look Big and Bad and Scary (or Cute and Funny and Likeable, in Alexei’s case), oppose (or, again re: Alexei, assist) Our Heroes’ goals, and/or move the plot forward.

That’s plain old bad writing. By itself, it’s unremarkable. Lots of writers make these mistakes when they construct antagonists. 

But also: the Russians - who, again, are not written or presented as full, individual people with goals, motivations, and coherent internal realities - are framed as simultaneously a terrifying, irresistible, insidious threat to everything the viewer is assumed to hold dear, and weak, incompetent, bumbling buffoons. And that’s where we tip over into propaganda.

I’m sure this has been talked about at length by people more knowledgeable than me. But this, to the best of my understanding, is one of the primary ways propaganda works. It presents an enemy, defines them as an other - not a person, like you and me, not really - and establishes them as a clear and present threat. It has to make them dangerous. It has to make them scary. It has to make its audience feel personally threatened and endangered by the very existence of this other, so that its audience wants to see that other defeated, subdued, gone. They could be in your unassuming Midwestern town! They could be hiding under your crowning symbol of capitalist success! And you would never know until it was too late, and they’d already unleashed unimaginable horror on the world and way of life you treasure, destroying it forever!

But also, propaganda can’t give the enemy too much credit. Too much fear plays into your enemy’s hands, leaves your own people afraid to move against them. And, if the enemy looks competent enough to pull off the kinds of atrocities pinned to them, then they might start looking smart. Like people who might have good ideas. Like people who might be able to win. 

So the enemy also has to be shown to be weak. Pathetic. A laughingstock. Easily outwitted and defeated by, for example, four bored kids - because the least of us is still smarter, stronger, better than the best of them.

So you might show that enemy as cunning and devious enough to build a secret base and laboratory under a shopping mall in the heart of enemy territory without anyone noticing - but too stupid or lazy to outfit it with any kind of security system. Powerful and unstoppable enough to hunt down and murder a man with impunity in the middle of a crowd - and it’s notable that the only person the Terminator expy actually manages to kill is one of his own - but weak and useless enough to lose a fistfight to a teenager who has, every other time he’s fought another vanilla human, had his ass absolutely handed to him. Terrifying and insidious - but ultimately powerless and pathetic.

Anyway, that’s why I’m worried about s4 trying to take Our Heroes to Russia.

[dat-town]

wish you were here

Characters: Mark Lee & you

Setting: wish dragon au (and a bit of aladdin because mark even has a tiger in their garden like jasmine did. don’t ask why, just blame the regular mv), childhood best friends to lovers (at least there’s potential?)

Genre: fluff and humour

Warnings: mentions of a sick animal and a wild animal kept as a pet in a huge garden (just like jasmine’s tiger, it’s very tamed)

Summary: A magical teapot, a dragon that wants everyone to be happy and an old friendship being revived. Oh yeah, have I told you that you have 3 wishes?

Words: 6.4k

For @restlessmaknae​ 💕

When your mother told you you got delivery to your childhood home, you certainly did not expect this: a brown box as big as a small watermelon with your old Canadian address and MARK LEE scrabbled next to your name as another recipient but no sender. Not to mention, the first stamp on the thing was dating back to the early 2010s. Where the hell was this package for 10 years? And what would you and your old neighbour slash best friend have gotten together?

Okay, first things first:

You and this clumsy, kind of cute kid, Mark had been quite tight while growing up. You were born in the same year, only a month apart, and his family lived in the house next to yours in the suburbs of Vancouver, so it was kind of natural. You two might have been against the world kind of comrades, playing hide and seek when you were six and wondering about whether time travelling was possible through black holes at twelve. But no matter how close you used to be, you fell out of touch when Mark's family moved to the other end of the world, back to Korea, their roots when you were fourteen. You slowly forgot about him, and started university in the city, moving away from home, so nothing really reminded you of him ⎼ and your stupid, big fat crush on him that you had no courage to tell him about in middle school ⎼, nothing until this box.

You put the delivered package on your kitchen table while you make some dinner for yourself out of what you have gotten during grocery shopping earlier just before you picked up the mysterious stuff at the post office. You eye it suspiciously over your pasta, really not wrapping your mind about what it could be but instead of annoying yourself with this pointless curiosity, you put your fork down and stand up to open it. It’s a struggle at first, the box being secured with multiple adhesive tapes over the years but when you finally get rid of all that and can look inside of it, an intense feeling rushes through you… immerse disappointment.

“A teapot? For real? What were we thinking?” you furrow your brows taking the small, green and pretty old teapot into your hands. It looks like a piece of a traditional Asian set with its jade colour and dragon pattern. It couldn’t have been in a much better shape 10 years ago either seeing how wayworn it is but still, you expected something more… exciting? Something funny that might or might not give you an excuse to look up Mark Lee on the internet and message him for the sake of old times. But how lame it would be to befriend him on Facebook only to tell him that you got delivered a teapot under both your names. Hah, you would rather not embarrass yourself like that.

You shoot one last glance at the teapot before leaving it on your counter and going back to your food, you successfully forget about the whole ordeal. You carry your life on with only one small difference: Mark Lee back on your mind after long, long years.

It was just a small crush, you tell yourself, sighing as you look into the mirror, absentmindedly wondering how he’s doing. Does he think of you sometimes as well? Did he go to music college like he has always wanted? Is he happy? You wish he was even if he’s half a world away and with that thought you think it’s time to go to sleep despite the upcoming weekend days. You don’t want to mess up your sleep schedule over some boy but as soon as you pull the blanket over your chest and close your eyes, something explodes in your kitchen.

You jump out of bed faster than lightning, in slight panic over the fact that your neighbours will hate you for bothering them late at night and your landlord would kill you if you managed to blow up your microwave. But the sight that welcomes you is like no other that you imagined. The whole room is covered in thick pink glittery smoke. Like your worst Barbie nightmare.

“What the⎼” you cough, waving your hands to clear the air and once it dissolves into nothingness with its weirdly cotton candy smell, there’s a boy in the middle of it all, sitting cross legged on your kitchen counter so casually as if he owned the place. His pink-ish purple hair hangs into his eyes and he seems to find your coffee machine strangely interesting. You grab the first thing you can ⎼ a blender ⎼ and hold it up in defensive before yelling at the boy: “Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my apartment?”

The stranger’s mouth pulls up in a charming smile, his eyes sparkle as he turns his attention to you, hopping off the counter. He’s all thin and long limbs, so you hate how you hate to look up at him as he walks towards you before bowing ceremoniously.

“Hello, sorry for the sudden appearance, I just couldn’t wait any longer! I’ve been stuck in that teapot waaay too long. I didn’t mean to be rude or anything. My name is Taeyong, I’m a wish dragon and you’re my new owner,” he smiles and what he says makes absolutely no sense.

“A wish dragon?” you mumble in shock, looking around to see if this is just another prank of Johnny. You wouldn’t be surprised to see him jump out from under one of the cupboards. Or maybe you just fell asleep and you’re dreaming. Yeah, that seems like a realistic scenario.

“Ah, yes! I know I don’t look like it but modern times require modern solutions. Most people freak out because of my dragon form, so human it is,” the boy who seems only a few years older than you grins as he’s chatting and you have to give it to him, he takes this role pretty seriously. “You have three wishes as my owner. You can ask for anything as long as it’s not about death or love.”

So you got yourself someone who thinks he’s basically a genie? Oh gosh, is he that drunk?

“Aha, very funny. I’m too tired for this prank, so I would appreciate it if you left the same way you came...” you point towards your window because there’s no way he came through the door. Putting down your blender because the guy looks pretty harmless despite his crazy blabbering, you move to go back to your bedroom.

“No, no, no, I can’t do that,” the boy, Taeyong as he introduced himself, appears in front of you within a second and grabs your shoulder as if he could shake some sense into you. He looks pretty desperate. “I can only get a new owner if I fulfill all wishes of yours. It was super stuffy in that box the last decade, you know.”

At that excuse you let out a laugh.

“You don’t even fit it the⎼”

“You were saying?” Taeyong is suddenly nowhere near ahead of you but instead a small creature, supposedly a dragon, in the size of your palm flies in front of your eye level. “It’s magic!”

Okay, now that sight makes you feel like it’s you who is drunk. Or worse.

“Am I dead?” you have to ask in a small, uncertain voice, trying to think back what could have happened. Maybe that explosion literally blew your apartment up? But it hurts when you pinch your arm and turning back into his human form, Taeyong wants to prove the very same thing. Not the hurting but the not dead part, obviously.

“No, you’re very much alive and a happy owner of a wish dragon. Not permanently, of course, but still,” he tells you as he drags you onto your couch in the living room. As if sitting down could help processing all this.

So you have a wish dragon in your home, a magical creature that can casually switch between its dragon and human form and he says you should wish for three things, so he could leave and you could go back to your old, boring life without magic and things that scare you to death at 11PM.

“Can I ask… why? Why me? I’m not really owner-material,” you whisper because heck yeah, you even managed to kill your cactus before. Taeyong purses his lips as he sits down, a hand at his chin.

“Well, it’s unusual indeed to have a peasant girl, no offence, as my owner but as far as I know, you and your friend asked for a sign that magic was real.”

Oh, you remember that, being so obsessed with shooting stars and other stuff like that, you two used Mark’s brother’s computer to browse the internet, trying to find evidence about all that. You were kids wanting to believe in a world beyond the one you knew. But...

“That was like 10 years ago,” you furrow your eyebrows, not getting the timing.

“Well, sorry, you weren’t put on the top of the Heaven wish list and the shipping from Shanghai to Vancouver isn’t the fastest either,” Taeyong shrugs as if it was supposed to be natural. As if that was the most unbelievable thing. Well, delivery services are sometimes a pain in the ass, that’s true but getting a wish delivered by Heaven was something you would have never thought of and it all drains down on you. Strangest realisation of your life.

“So… it’s all real,” you whisper ahead of yourself: magic, dragons and all that. You could basically see your old best friend’s I told you so smile and let out a soft chuckle. “I wish Mark could meet with you, too.”

At that the guy ahead of you claps his hands and rubs them together, creating the same purple smoke from before. You look at him alarmed.

“Your wish, my command,” Taeyong grins and lifts his hands and before you could make a sound of protest because gosh, you didn’t mean it literally, you feel the ground move under your feet and you’re falling, into the darkness but despite shutting your eyes automatically, fearing the impact of the crash, nothing comes. Only the smell of soy sauce in the air and warm sunshine on your skin… Wait, what?

Your eyelids fly open and you notice in shock that you’re not in your flat anymore, ready to sleep. Instead, you stand in the middle of a goddamn street somewhere in Korea based on the signs still in your PJ shorts and tee. Oh my gosh! You hide in an alley right away and yank the seemingly proud Taeyong with you.

“I didn’t tell you that I meant right now! I can’t meet Mark in my PJs and I need my phone and wallet to function anyways. Not to mention, I don’t speak Korean at all...” you ramble panicking, the realisation that you’re indeed on the other side of the Earth due to some magic is yet to register. But the awkwardness from the stares you have just gotten has already turned you bashful.

Listening to you, the wish dragon seems sheepish and slightly embarrassed as he scratched his nape, his colourful hair falling into his cast down eyes.

“Oh… sorry. I got so excited over the wish that I didn’t think about it! It’s been a while since I did teleport magic but hey, I still have it in me. Anyways, sorry. Phone and wallet, you said? Here you go,” he pulls out something from his pants which magically seems to be indeed your belongings. That definitely makes things earlier.

“Uhm, thanks. Where are we exactly?”

“Ah, well you mentioned your friend Mark Lee, so we’re here. Well, one bell away because I did remember that it’s rude to intrude other’s houses without permission first,” oh now, you know, you snicker internally and gulp because hell, even if you wanted to see Mark, you wouldn’t have thought that the meeting would come so soon. You didn’t have enough time to prepare yourself mentally.

“So… you’re telling me that this… is where Mark lives?” you point at the impressive apartment complex on the corner of the street but Taeyong shakes his head.

“Nope, This is where your Mark lives,” he says and before you could object about the ‘your’ part, the dragon points at the other side of the road at a luxurious house with a huge garden, basically a palace. Seeing the beautiful fountain, the modern and yet traditional Korean style building beyond the fences makes your jaw drop.

“Hahaha, alright for a magic dragon you must have made a mistake. There’s no way the Mark Lee I know lives here,” you look back at Taeyong finding it funny that the kid who used to wore his favourite tees until his mother basically threw them out would live at such a place.

“Mark Lee, korean name Minhyung, supposed to be 22 years old internationally soon. Bad eyesight, contagious laugh, clumsy but has surprisingly good reflexes, gets embarrassed easily. Sound familiar?” Taeyong crooks a brow at you as he reads the information off from a parchment he just took out of his pants. Everything he listed is just so Mark that you’re left in disbelief.

“Uuh… that sounds about right.”

“His father hit it big in 2016 with a tech company, their net worth has too many zeros to count,” Taeyong explains, seeing how surprised you were over the fact that he lived a lavish life like this. Not that he doesn’t deserve it! Mark is such a sweetheart, so of course, you would only want the best for him but as if half the world wasn’t enough, now you have another huge gap between you.

“Gosh, I really can’t believe this. How am I supposed to just ring the bell and say hello after so much time?” you sighed with your head in your hands. “Argh, I need to buy some clothes and change.”

Taeyong approves the idea based on how enthusiastically he hollers, you wonder why nobody on the street seems to pay no attention to him. Maybe only you see him, just more reason for you to be crazy.

“Good idea because we’re having dinner with Mark!”

“What?” you look up in shock, not following through. Taeyong grins down at you, flashing a giddy smile and with a twirl he’s changed from his baggy, casual clothes to something more chic but still laidback.

“Your wish was him meeting me, so I arranged everything. I can't meet him without you and the teapot there, you know,” he explains as if it was supposed to be obvious. You aren't ready yet though.

“You just want to eat all the fancy delicious food he has,” you squint at him suspiciously and the dragon stays silent, so you must be right. He laughs nervously.

“Maybe, but can you blame me? I haven’t had a feast since a literal decade!” he hollers and somehow you really cannot find it in yourself to be angry at him. You are in Seoul for god's sake after all and magic is real, you can put up with the inconvenience of buying clothes and making yourself look decent before dumping all this surprise on Mark.

An hour later you stand in front of the gates of the Lee mansion and nervously you wipe your sweating hands into your dress. You can totally do this, you just say hi to an old friend, it's not like you're afraid he wouldn't remember you, hah, of course not–

"Y/N!" 

You whip your head at the call of your name to the source of that all too familiar voice. Sure it's deeper than you remember but there's no mistake in whose it is. Plus, who else would call your name in South Korea of all places.

"Mark, hey!" you wave the boy who just got out of one of the fanciest cars you've ever seen in your life. And yet, despite the Prada suit and expensive shoes, styled hair and Swiss watch on wrist, Mark Lee still has that goofy little smile and the doe eyes that used to make you weak in the knees. Hah, who are you kidding? They still do.

"Oh my god, dude, you… you got pretty," Mark jogs up to you and having no filter like always he blabbers immediately only to stutter as his ears turn red. It was so him talking before thinking, so you didn’t really mean to dwell on his words. Although you felt your cheeks dusted with pink soon enough. "I mean, it's really good to see you! I was so surprised to see your name in my calendar for today's dinner! You should have told me you were coming to Korea, I would have picked you up at the airport."

His calendar? Ah, of course, he must have been busy and all that. You wouldn’t have been surprised to see an assistant run after him at this point, so you wonder how your wish dragon magically put you onto his list of important people to meet. Gosh, it was so weird.

"Ah, I have a funny story about that…" you chuckled to yourself but before you could have get out anything, even a please, can we go to a more private place? Mark’s eyes zero on the guy next to you and his eyes grow comically wide.

"And uhm, who is your friend?" he points at Taeyong who waves him in exchange with a kilowatt smile. He looks back at you with his mouth agapé. "Oh my god, you came to invite me to your wedding?"

He says oh my god way too many times for an eloquent rich kid, he really is the Mark Lee you knew.

"No, never! I mean, of course, I would invite you but Taeyong and I– I literally met him on my way here," you explain hastily cursing yourself for the silly lie. You came to tell him the news not to try to make it believable. 

“I heard there’s food,” the wish dragon pipes in very helpful and you shoot him a disapproving glance he doesn’t notice. Luckily, Mark doesn’t seem to mind.

“Oh, yeah, of course, dinner! Come on in, let’s get you two settled,” he grins albeit a bit awkwardly as he leads you through the gate after opening it with his card.

On the way through the very, very, very big garden, he’s chattering about how he misses the Vancouver weather, especially on humid, hot days like this and talks about how he thinks the fountain in their yard is a bit too much but his mom loved it and then before you know it, you sit by a huge dining table with fine food in front of you. Suddenly you can’t decide whether you're grateful for Taeyong’s shameless presence – he digs into the jjigae right away – because at least the situation isn’t awkward because of your silence or you’re annoyed by it because you must seem like a weirdo because of him. That’s why you decide to rip off the bandage and tell Mark as soon as the last maid has disappeared too.

“Okay, so actually I came here because I have a surprise,” you speak up, probably too serious because the boy almost chokes on his food due to how fast he turns his head towards you.

“More surprise?” he coughs out and you offer him a glass of water which he takes with a smile.

“You literally won’t believe this one!” you assure him and wait until he gulps down the drink. Only then you point to Taeyong and tell him that your childhood wish has come true. 

Mark almost falls off his chair this time.

Not after you tell him that though. He laughs at that with that wheezing laugh of his as if you told the joke of the century then pats you on the shoulder murmuring That was a good one, bro and turning back to his food. But then you look at the magic dragon pointedly and Taeyong puts down his chopsticks with an exaggerated sign. Then he flexes his magic: turning into his dragon form among additional sparkles and Mark suddenly looks like he’s about to faint. He reaches out to tap on your shoulder while not taking his eyes off the wish dragon.

“Am I dreaming?” he whispers and honestly, you totally get his reaction while Taeyong mumbles something about ‘people these days not believing in dragons’ as he shows off all the things he could do: gift riches, make one stronger than they are, giving skills of whatever one wants. He starts rambling about how this one Chinese emperor became wealthy thanks to this, how that one actor in martial arts and all this before changing back to his human form and he continues eating his pasta like nothing ever happened.

“I can do this all day,” he shrugs as if he didn’t just perform the coolest magic tricks.

“This… this is the best thing ever!” Mark exclaims with those sparkles in his eyes you missed so much. He was always so excited about new things and it automatically makes you smile how he bombards Taeyong with million questions like: ‘So you are the wish dragon that grants wishes?’ or asking him about his scales, his unique color, how it feels to live in such a small teapot, how old he is and the dragon glows under all the attention. Can’t blame him but Mark has always been so curious about the world, it’s endearing.

“So your first wish was to meet me?” he turns to you after long minutes of interrogating Taeyong and suddenly, under the spotlight you don’t know what to do with yourself. You can feel yourself blushing because you didn’t necessarily mean to wish for that but it’s not like you’re regretting it, it’s just… you don’t want him to misunderstand.

“I thought you should meet him, too, after all the package was delivered for the two of us,” you look down, trying to sound nonchalant while picking your food, avoiding Mark’s gaze. No matter how open armed he welcomed you, you still aren’t convinced that it’s okay to be here because the more time you spend with him, the more you would like to stay a part of his life. “It’s just… I wasn’t really sure we could ever meet again. We didn’t keep contact after you left.”

With dropped shoulders, you try not to sound too downhearted because of what happened because you know all too well, it wasn’t his fault, it was a family decision and look at him, it did good for him! He seems happy, they live in a practically mansion but most importantly, he didn’t seem to change with the wealth. He might wear expensive clothes but under it all he’s still the boy with the most loveable smile.

“I… I was thinking about you a lot, I just thought you forgot about me,” Mark admits with a sheepish smile, tucking his hair behind his ear shyly. He really still is the same and it’s playing silly little games with your heart. If this was a cheesy Disney movie, a slow bgm would start to play as you look into each other but your moment is broken when Taeyong accidentally kicks into his chair as he stands up. At first he looks alarmed but then giggles.

“I will just… go. Don’t mind me,” he disappears like smoke with a wink, leaving you two alone at which Mark lets out a woah. You chuckle at his cute reaction, heart doing somersaults in your chest.

You thought it would be awkward, just the two of you alone after long years but Mark has this thing that he makes people feel comfortable around him, so it’s actually quite nice. You catch up on everything and anything that comes to your mind: old neighbours, studies, friends, what are you doing now and what would you like to do, too.

After finishing the delicious dinner, Mark offers a home tour which you would never refuse and you jaw drops at the huge crystal chandelier in their living room as well as their swimming pool but your favourite place in the whole mansion is Mark’s room because it’s just so him. You can’t describe it well but the moment you step inside, it feels like home. It’s cozy to the point it makes you want to cuddle a pillow. It has colours of pastels, a synthesizer here, a guitar there, posters of singers framed on his wall and vinyl records hanging down. His window has a view of sunset and Namsan above their green garden and although you haven’t been in Seoul before, you’re pretty sure it’s your favourite place in the whole damn city, too.

“Wait, there’s someone I would like you to meet,” Mark suddenly exclaims while you’re looking through his pictures and he pulls you out of his room, out of the house, into the garden: You giggle all the way as he’s being so secretive about it but then your steps halt unexpectedly and the hand you have in Mark’s yanks him back.

“Mark… why is there a tiger in your garden in the middle of Seoul?” you ask as quietly and as immobile as you can. You don’t want to attract the sleeping animal’s attention to yourself. But to your biggest surprise, the boy just laughs, his thumb caressing your skin soothingly.

“She’s Jasmine and she won’t hurt you,” he reassures you but needless to say, you’re not too calm and you’re pulled close to the wild animal that lifts its huge head towards you lazily. “She was abandoned by her mother as a cub and she was outcast in the zoo because she’s a bit sick, so she has always been weaker than her siblings. Dad made a donation and we have raised her since she was young.”

You hiss when Mark reaches out without fear but the tiger basically purrs as he strokes down his fur at the neck. You watch in awe as this big wild animal becomes a soft cat under the hands of Mark Lee. When the boy encourages you to pat her too, you hesitate but he promises you that it’s gonna be alright and you take a leap of faith. 

“What’s her sickness?” you wonder aloud as your fingers get lost in the soft fur of the tiger. You hope she’s not in a lot of pain.

“It’s an immune system thing, not sure what exactly but she wouldn’t have survived this long in the wild,” the boy tells you and his mouth curls up in a smile when Jasmine licks your hand. It seems like you’re tiger-approved. You look into its warm brown eyes and your heart churns at the thought of her condition.

Mark tells you stories of Jasmine, about that one time she crashed his birthday cake or how much she likes to swim with him in their pool during summer and gosh, you could listen to him go on and on forever. You’re only reminded of the reality, that all this is just a possible one-time thing, a weekend getaway with magic when Taeyong shows up in swimwear, ready to crash in said pool.

“I guess he might have been bored in that teapot,” Mark laughs, not minding at all. He even offers you to join but you have a better idea.

“Taeyong, I have my second wish!” you call out for the wish dragon who’s suddenly much more excited about that than the water. He’s beside you in a moment, beaming and curious. You glance at Mark with a soft smile before looking at your personal genie confidently.

“I wish Jasmine would be healthy,” you whisper, playing with the tiger’s furry ears which she seems to enjoy. You were a little bit afraid the dragon would say it’s not possible, that he can’t cure sickness but to your relief, he just grins.

“Your wish, my command,” he nods and puts a hand over the animal. Nothing but a smoke of purple signals the magic being done but you believe in it and so does Mark by the looks of it. He reaches out for your hand and squeezes it gently. 

“Thank you,” he smiles and you smile back. He used to be your best friend after all, it’s the least you can do for him.

Mark convinces you to stay the weekend and there’s no way you could tell no to him, not when he clears his schedule just for you. He never complains about how busy he must be working for his father’s business while being a music major at a local university. All he ever talks about is the places he wishes to show you and he takes you around Seoul as if he was your certificated tour guide. It’s lovely how enthusiastic he is about it while what really matters to you is the time you spend together. He makes sure you two take a million photos to remember by, Taeyong posing on half of them since he joins you on your little trips and sometimes it’s just the two of you watching the wish dragon being genuinely in awe by modern technology, 10 years is a long time after all.

On the last day before you have to go back to Vancouver (thanks to Taeyong’s kind offer to take you the same way you came back since he misunderstood you, you don’t have to sit through a 10+ hours flight and you have more time), Mark not only tries to make you breakfast despite having an in-house chef (his eggs are ugly as heck but you appreciate his efforts and can’t help but coo at his dreamy smile under that grey hoodie when you tell him it tastes yummy) but he also introduces you to his friends in Korea. Of course, they tease you (mostly Mark) about where he has been hiding you but it’s all chill and fun you’re not quite ready to say goodbye. But you should go because the more you stay, the more you don’t want to leave. You’re lucky enough for this chance to reunite with Mark but all good things end eventually.

“Let’s not disappear from each other’s life again, okay?” the boy grins at you as you’re ready to go, Taeyong already working on his magic.

“Yeah, let’s not,” you agree easily, looking forward to your video chatting and constant texting even if it’s from the two opposite ends of the Earth with a terrible time zone difference.

You glance at the wish dragon who’s drumming with his fingers while pursing his lips as if he was waiting for something and you let out a huff before working up the courage to actually do something about these feelings inside of you. You might have regretted not confessing in middle school, you have spent years wondering about the what ifs, so you don’t want to make the same mistake twice but still, you want to give Mark a chance to ignore it all if he wants to. So you step forward and wrap your hands around him as you hug him close. It’s obvious that your action takes him aback, he suddenly doesn’t know what to do with his hands and his body tenses under you but it all melts as you say those words that have been threatening to fall from your lips all this time:

“I have missed you.” you confess, honest and based on the hitch in his breathing, Mark must be surprised. You can’t blame him though, you just wanted him to know. You step back with a weary smile, his big Bambi eyes on you but before he could say anything you nod at Taeyong and you feel yourself falling, purple fog pulling you in. A few moments later you’re back in Vancouver, in your apartment, without him.

The first few days pass in a blurr, you can still barely believe what just happened. Your weekend with Mark feels like a too good dream but Mark kept his side of promise and texted you almost immediately as you left. He sends you selfies, songs that remind him of you and you talk about your days like you never did before. Still, it feels like you’re dancing around certain topics which are basically the elephant in the room and maybe that’s why Taeyong tries to cheer you up in his own way. Though, he soon realizes that you not being happy isn’t the problem, you are happy, you just… miss Mark more than you ever did.

“Enough of moping, you still have a wish left!” Taeyong exclaims, throwing himself onto your bed. “Come on, close your eyes, imagine what you want the most in the world and make a wish!" he singsongs. However, before you could even just indulge him, your phone pings with a new notification.

fullsun00 tagged you in their post!

You click on it right away, wondering what Mark’s friend Donghyuck is doing online at 1AM. The uploaded post turns out to be a photo of you and Mark when you all hang out near Han river. You were too busy at the time laughing at how the boy almost lost his whole scoop of ice cream before he could have had a single bite to notice his smile while looking at you. Based on his caption Donghyuck apparently wasn’t.

fullsun00: just old friends, they say. friends my ass @buttercupyn @onyourm__ark

You click your tongue wondering what Mark thinks of the callout but you press like on the post anyways. You put your phone aside before you could see how his other friends join the teasing in the comment section.

“Actually, I do have my third wish,” you speak up as you turn to Taeyong before he could make a remark on your tinted cheeks.

You’ve been thinking a lot about it during the past days. You could wish for anything but you’re at a point of your life where no riches or fame would make you happier because you’re happy enough just the way it is. It might not be perfect but you don’t want to be selfish and you want to make decisions you won’t regret: like catching up with Mark, curing his tiger and bringing happiness into the life of somebody who only ever served other people in his life.

“Ooh, what is it?” Taeyong claps, giddy as if he was waiting for this to happen. He probably did.

“I wish you would go on a vacation and enjoy life,” you tell him but unlike his usual reaction, this time the dragon’s smile fades and he blinks at you, confused.

“You could ask for anything in the world and that’s what you want? Are you sure?” he furrows his brows, not quite believing your words but you just smile, knowingly.

“Yes, Taeyong, I’m sure.”

“Your wish, my command,” he bows with his hands put together and with a twirl suddenly he’s in a Hawaiian shirt and sunglasses, looking as ready for a holiday as one can be. You chuckle and tell him to just go, you’ll be fine.

You’re fine, you really are. Life goes on, you study and work, you laugh with your friends, you video call with Mark regularly and his friends are regulars on your social media, too. It’s just sometimes the feeling of missing something hits you harder than other days. Especially when you’re looking through the pictures you have from your Seoul weekend.

“I wish you were here,” you whisper ahead of you at one particularly good photo of Mark and the sunset, smiling at you behind the camera. You miss his smile, the cute wrinkles around his eyes when he crunches his nose, the sound of his laughter, his hand on your wrist… you miss him.

Ding-dong.

You stand up startled at the sound of your flat’s bell, running to the door to open it even though you have no idea who it could be so early on a Saturday morning. Not having a better idea, you expect it to be either a neighbour of your landlord but on the other side of your doorstep stands a boy who you thought was a continent away. He’s dressed semi-casually this time, his shirt tucked in his jeans, hair lightly falling onto his forehead and a nervous smile on his thin lips.

“Mark! But I⎼ I don’t even have more wishes,” you blink, taken aback, looking around to look for Taeyong in case he came back. But your behaviour just manages to confuse Mark instead.

“What?”

“I just wished you were here,” you blurt out without thinking, your words only processing later in your brain and it’s then when heat creeps onto your cheeks. Mark tries to but can’t really hide his growing smile at that.

“Really? I’m glad then. I just took my new private plane on a test drive,” he says bashfully, a silly excuse for real.

“All the way to Vancouver?” you tease, watching Mark fumble with the hem of his shirt. Your heart beats overtime just because of the fact that he’s there. 

“Well, what can I say? I did miss the weather here,” he plays along with a shrug but he’s more serious when he looks deep into your eye and adds: “And you left without letting me answer.”

Oh yes, you did. You were kind of afraid of his reaction but seeing how he was ready to travel across the world just to see you, maybe there’s no reason for you to be so afraid. It feels like deja vu but a reversed one in a way as Mark gently pulls you into a hug, his lips grazing your hair with a whisper that makes your heart skip a beat: “I have missed you too.”

You really wouldn’t wish for anything more.

[therisingphoenixden]

Prompt #13: Good Healers are Hard to Find

Prompt: Confluence

Characters: Berude Eijinn, Arenvald Lentinus, Alphinaud Levilleur, Urianger Augurelt

Content Warnings: Patch 3.5 quest spoilers, kind of??? Also spoilers for that quest in Heavensward msq. You know the one, “A Knight’s Duty”.

Author’s Notes: In which the author falls back on the old “write what you know” deal. I started playing MMOs 11 years ago, when WoW had just launched Cataclysm (I started playing before patch 4.1). I was content to just dps as a survival hunter (RIP ranged survival) until my guild needed a resto shaman to clear Dragon Soul in 4.3. So I rolled one up and I struggled at first. So I decided to write about how Ru picked up astrologian, which is easily my favorite healing job.

The diagrams and sigils began blurring on the page as a sharp pain bloomed between Berude’s eyes. Her fingers began massaging her temples before covering her face with a groan. “Azim, Nhaama, and the Twelve give me strength!” She collapsed at the table, burying her head in her arms as her pleas to fourteen different deities went unanswered. “Try learning astrology, I thought! It should be fun!” Her tone was all too silly and mocked herself a few days prior, during a visit to Ishgard recently to check the hunt board.

While nothing appealed to her, she had wandered the city until she found her way to the Athenium Astrologica. On a lark, she stepped in and suddenly found herself enlisted to learn astrology from visiting Sharlayan dignitaries in Quarrymill. 

Until one of the astrologers was kidnapped by bandits just outside Quarrymill and she had the dumb luck to pick up the soul crystal he tossed her way. Had the old man known?

He had been rescued eventually and sent back to Sharlayan to recover, but it was too late. The soul crystal had bonded to her, and she was determined to see this through.

Even if all of this studying was giving her a headache.

Berude knew she could heal if she just put her mind to it. But this was a far different discipline than anything else she had trained for. She had been an archer in the Steppe, then took up the art of pugilism when she arrived in Ul’dah. Before the bloody banquet, Thancred and Yugiri took it upon themselves to train her with daggers and the shinobi arts.

Not once had she ever cast magick.

But at least the Waking Sands was a quiet enough retreat for her studies. Even though her practicing partner, Arenvald, was less than thrilled.

“D’ya need a moment?” He was kind enough to voice his concern for her wellbeing, although the trepidation in his tone shone through.

With a heavy sigh, she lifted her head. “You are excused for now, Arenvald,” she mumbled. As he fled, she reached back and untied her hair from its bun.

It only slightly eased the tension between her eyes.

“Masters Alphinaud and Urianger!” She heard Arenvald yelp. “Ye might want t’have a word with the Lady Warrior.” She turned her head and saw him pointing at her, where she was still hunched over the thick tome Leveva had given to her. Having been caught like a child stealing boortsog before a meal, Arenvald scampered off to another part of the main gathering room.

Alphinaud ran over and nearly tripped over his own feet in his haste to greet her. “Berude, you’re back later than I expected,” he rambled. “Is aught amiss?” His eyes fell upon the tome.

Berude winced as his eyes widened. “There was…an incident that led me to Quarrymill. And this.” She withdrew the amber colored soul crystal from her bags and set it gently on the table. “It responded a little too well to my aether.” 

She could sense Urianger behind her, but wasn’t prepared for him to lean down and examine the tome as well. “Oft have I wondered at the studies of Sharlayan astrologians,” he murmured thoughtfully. “The portents they read within the firmament are as valid as any penned by a sage.”

Berude fought the urge to slam her head against the table and scream in frustration. She had been studying for hours and still felt no closer to understanding astrology. “It feels a bit much to wrap my head around, but I am determined to learn.” If she had wandered into the Athenium Astrologica as soon as she had arrived in Ishgard, perhaps things would be very different. If she could have aided Alphinaud with his attempts to heal Haurchefant…

Alphinaud…heal…

Hadn’t Urianger also aided her with a few burns after her fight with Ramuh?

Suddenly, it clicked. Looking between the two elezen, one whom she had come to love as a son and the other whom she respected greatly now that their relationship was thawing from the ice of betrayal, she could think of none better to ask. “Teach me,” she blurted out unexpectedly, her cheeks turning pink. “I-I mean, if you’re both amenable to it, that is.”

“I confess, it would fill the time while we wait for intel regarding the Griffon’s next move,” Alphinaud decided, a smile growing across his face. “Berude, I would be honored to help teach you!”

Urianger nodded in agreement. “T’is wisdom in seeking the aid of others. Thine obvious talents have thus far been exemplary in the martial. That the soul crystal chose thee is no mere coincidence.” He watched the crystal flare from a dull topaz to a brilliant amber when she touched it and hummed to himself. For any soul crystal to react that fiercely meant only one thing. “Thy aptitude is apparent. We needs only unlock it for thine true potential to shine.”

She wrinkled her nose as she tried to decipher whether or not what Urianger said was a compliment and tried not to make her stress headache too apparent. “My thanks to both of you. Truly.” A small smile twitched at the corners of her lips, but between the pain in her head and the sorrow that still clung to her heart, it faded all too quickly.

“You can thank us properly with pastries from the Bismark,” Alphinaud proposed. His grin might have been impish, but his eyes were serious. “Casting spells will take a lot out of you, especially when you’re not used to it.”

Berude quickly found some spare parchment and jotted down Alphinaud’s instruction: “Eat before casting A LOT.” While she had been writing, Urianger settled in the seat across from her. “Thy first task will be to rid thyself of thine headache.” He nodded to the parchment and withdrew his own writing implement. “During the battle against the Lord of Levin, I had observed the capability within thineself to heal as the battle progressed.” It had been an honor to glimpse Ramuh’s trial, not only having borne witness to the Lord of Levin’s might, but also the auri woman’s. “I recall a technique thou used in the fight that granted thine fists the property of healing injuries while damaging the primal.”

He began sketching out a diagram on the parchment. “‘Twas an act of harnessing thine own aether inward to protect thyself,” he pointed at the rather accurate outline of an auri woman in a monk’s fighting pose, with several dashes flowing from her body to her fists. “The discipline thou wishes to undertake is similar in concept.”

Alphinaud nodded as Urianger sketched out two more figures - a hyur and a miqo’te this time. “Correct. Instead of channeling your aether into your fists to repair damage to yourself as you punch others, it’s channeling your aether outward to heal another.” His finger hovered over the still-wet ink of the dashes flowing from the hyur’s hands to the miqo’te. “It’s often easier to channel from oneself to another with the aid of a focus.”

“Hast thou been provided a proper focus?” 

At Urianger’s question, Berude nodded and produced the star globe, also a gift from Leveva and she could have sworn she saw his lips twitch into the slightest of smiles.

“Would she need a focus for a simple task in healing herself?”

“‘Tis better to practice with the proper tools.” It seemed that Urianger would not budge on this. 

She closed her eyes and listened carefully to his instructions. It was not unlike when she was young and first learned how to use a bow - steady breaths, focus, intent in mind. Alphinaud added his own tips, but they were lost in the low timbre of Urianger’s voice.

Berude felt the soothing tingling of healing magicks around her fingers and touched her forehead. The spell released like a bowstring and relief surged through her.

When she opened her eyes, the pain between her brows was gone!

-

A few weeks later and there was still no word regarding the Griffon, but the trio had made excellent progress in Berude’s training. They had set up on the other side of the tunnel to Vesper Bay, this time with Arenvald in tow.

Today’s exercise was to keep the Ala Mhigan warrior standing amid an onslaught of spells under promise of a proper aurochs steak dinner.

“Once more,” Urianger commanded as he and Alphinaud drew their tomes. Two carbuncles, one amber and the other onyx, sprang forth after a momentary incantation. “I have every confidence thou will succeed, my lady.”

Berude nodded and drew her star globe. She watched Arenvald who stood tall and proud, but noticed his tightly-clenched fists. She would not fail him, even though this exercise wasn’t designed to be lethal.

“I’m ready,” Arenvald said, no tremor in his voice to betray his nerves. “Begin.”

The two arcanists cast before Berude was ready, Alphinaud causing a dark cloud to enshroud Arenvald’s face as Urianger sent the young man to sleep.

“Always anticipate thine enemy’s actions,” Urianger shouted across the makeshift battlefield. “Thou knowest well not all will act honorably.”

Adapting quickly, she threw a hand out to double-cast Esuna before drawing The Ewer, The Bower, and the Lady of Crowns. She felt enlightened by the cards and threw her hand out once more, a shield of stars held together by golden strands of magick enveloping Arenvald just before a Run and an Energy Drain slammed into it.

The shield wavered and flickered for a moment, but reconstituted almost instantly. It held strong against repeated Ruins and the carbuncles slamming into it. Sweat began beading on her forehead as she held the shield, then dull pain as a Ruin from Alphinaud grazed her side. His expression was remorseful for the action, but it had to be done. The shield fell, leaving Arenvald to the mercy of the arcanists. Two Ruins collided with the young man as the carbuncles attempted to knock him to the ground.

No! She would not falter here! Staring at her star globe, Berude channeled her aether into a maelstrom of healing stardust that renewed both herself and Arenvald.

It was only too late she realized her error, as everything around her grew fuzzy at the edges. Then the world went black.

When she came around, she was cradled in someone’s arms. The texture of fabric under her cheek felt like fine hempen cloth, smelling of ink, leather, parchment, tea, and something she couldn’t quite place. “Apologies, my lady,” the low timbre of the speaker’s voice rumbled through her and gave away the identity of the kind soul carrying her. Urianger carefully carried her down the stairs leading to the Waking Sands.

“I burned through my aether too quickly,” she murmured sadly. A hum rumbled through her horns and she bit her lip at the sudden fluttering she felt in her stomach.

“‘Tis progress for thee to spot errors so quickly in thine technique,” he murmured, ignoring the way his heart clenched at her despondent expression. “Not a failing.”

“Truly,” Alphinaud piped up, helping a limping Arenvald down the steps. Apparently the carbuncles had done a number on his shins after the shield broke. “This was just practice. With more experience, you’ll know when to pace yourself.” He lightly elbowed his charge, who was about to grumble something. “Now, you’ll need time to rest up while I tend to Arenvald’s shins.”

Berude found herself heartened by their words, even Arenvald’s grumbling, and she could not have asked for better men to come together and teach her.

[softluci]

atla hcs

i’ve been thinking about this for a minute, and i wanna do a set of headcanons for how i think the brothers (and eventually the undateables) would feel about certain avatar: the last airbender characters, or something along those lines. i actually just wanted to talk about lucifer and azula, so everything else here is a bonus. this doesn’t matter, but for what it’s worth: wherever the mc pops up, they will be gn, enjoy!

also: this kinda goes without saying, but there are most definitely spoilers in here. for which seasons? i don’t remember, i watched this show when i was nine, but proceed with caution if you have yet to watch it.

lucifer

if it’s one thing you are not gonna play with him about, it is princess azula. this man is an azula supremacist, and while he might not say those words exactly, anyone would be able to tell that’s the case if they talked to him about the show for longer than two minutes. he actually wasn’t even interested in the show until azula showed up, and he will readily admit this to anyone who inquires about it. what makes it funny is the fact that her first appearance is literally, like, ten seconds, so that means he saw her and immediately knew she was the best, which, like—real recognize real. is he projecting? am i projecting? yes, no. in that order. shut up.

he actually almost couldn’t hide how proud he was when azula almost killed aang, this man is deranged. the same way he takes her wins personally, he takes every loss of hers personally as well, so when she lost that agni kai? 🚶‍♂️ 

the average azula enjoyer believes azula should get a redemption arc, lucifer believes azula should simply get whatever she wants, and the difference between those two things is striking.

average azula enjoyer: i believe azula deserves to heal and redeem herself. it isn’t fair that she was left with her tyrannical, abusive father during formative years of her childhood, with no one to help her or show her what it means to be good. she cannot be blamed for the way she turned out. it especially isn’t fair that she gets no redemption for evil things she did at age fourteen, for a year, while the entire show is iroh’s redemption arc, and he was doing evil for decades—he is literally called “the dragon of the west” because of it. additionally—

lucifer morningstar, resident azula supremacist: everything azula did, she was right to do, because i would’ve done the same. there was never a point at which she was wrong, it’s just unfortunate that nobody could keep up with her, her father included. the only reason why she ended up losing, ultimately, is because this is a children’s show, and good is supposed to win out. it was plot armor. if this were realistic, she would’ve beaten everyone—at the very least, she would’ve beaten zuko in the final agni kai, it’s just that he broke the rules and brought backup. at the time of the agni kai, she was literally the strongest firebender in the show. that’s actually the only part of this lucifer is right about, but you can’t tell him that.

if you ask him what his favorite quote in the show is, he’ll immediately say, “i can see your whole history in your eyes. you were born with nothing, so you’ve had to struggle, and connive, and claw your way to power. but true power? the divine right to rule? is something you’re born with.” and he will do it so well that it’ll give you the chills. 

in actuality, his favorite quote is, “i’d really rather our family physician look after little zuzu, if you don’t mind.” it’s just that it doesn’t have the same chilling effect as the first one. 

does he like any other characters? does he even care about any other characters? he has a deep fondness for sokka because he reminds him of mammon.  yes, and they are katara and suki, with honorable mention to avatar kyoshi. 

does he hate any characters? no, but if you mention avatar kuruk or uncle iroh to him, he might get annoyed. is mildly frustrated by aang, but has the sense to cut him some slack for being twelve and the last of his kind. never speak of ozai.

mammon 

toph supremacist. frequent user of the phrase, “toph is just fucking class.” knows for a fact that toph is the best and strongest bender in the entire show, and no one has ever managed to convince him otherwise. mainly because nobody really disagrees. like, have you ever even seen toph slander?

just like lucifer with azula, he wasn’t invested in the show until toph showed up, which, once again, is funny, because technically her very first appearance is only a few seconds long, so that means he saw her for a literal second and just knew. you can’t even be mad at that, real recognize real. 

no one will ever see him more proud than when he’s talking about one toph beifong. he can’t get over her raw, unbridled talent, and he really never should. if you let him (so, if you’re levi), he will spend so much time analyzing her character and every single one of her strengths, from the fact that she’s the only one who knows when azula is lying, all the way down to the fact that even though she projects a tough persona, she can still be vulnerable, AND—

not only is she strong, but her personality is simply untouchable. this girl grows on literally everyone; like, even lucifer likes her, even though he’ll die before saying it out loud. 

he gets so smug whenever someone asks him who his favorite is and it’s because he knows his taste is top tier, and what makes it worse is that no one can even disagree because toph is just that good. 

will never admit it, but he was shaking and crying during the scene where it looked like toph and sokka were literally gonna die. was also gonna cry when toph almost drowned. basically: he is eternally grateful to suki. 

his favorite line in the entire show is, “i am the greatest earthbender in the world! don’t you two dunderheads ever forget it.” it’s just fucking class.

does he like any other characters? he sees himself in sokka, he’ll tell you that much. he also knows that satan and lucifer like sokka because of him, and he found out because he heard them talking about it. to their joint dismay, they turned to see him standing behind them, grinning like an idiot, and they couldn’t even scare him into leaving them alone when he hugged both of them at the same time because, one, they didn’t really want to, and two, they couldn’t turn off their fondness for him fast enough ^_^. did they reciprocate his hug? did they stay like that for a little bit? did lucifer kiss the tops of their heads? maybe so🤨

does he hate any characters? not really, but he doesn’t particularly like azula because she scares him and makes him sad, like lucifer and doesn’t see her appeal. once tried to make a case for why she shouldn’t have a redemption arc and felt painfully human from the way he almost died. do not mention toph’s parents to him. the name ozai should also never be on your tongue.

levi 

resident sokka enjoyer and suki appreciator. do not ever call sokka dumb in front of this man unless you want a proper lecture. unlike a few of his brothers, he doesn’t like sokka just because of his similarities to mammon. he also likes sokka because he relates to him on a personal level. 

levi absolutely knows what it’s like to feel inadequate and outshined by people younger than you. he absolutely knows what it’s like to feel like your competence is overlooked. while he might be unfamiliar with how it feels to strategize for a war and lose a battle, but it is one of his biggest fears and it absolutely crushed him to see sokka go through that. 

on a lighter note, levi has a deep appreciation for sokka’s comedic value, despite the fact that it can overshadow his intelligence. levi would actually venture to say that he likes sokka’s funnier side because it overshadows his intelligence to the point that it throws the opposition for a loop. this is the aspect of sokka that reminds him of mammon. 

it also seriously warmed his heart to see how everyone missed sokka while he was away for sword training; he especially liked that episode because it was just an affirmation of the fact that sokka is an integral part of team avatar, which he really needed to see. 

you know who else is an integral part of team avatar who needs to be recognized as such more often? suki. do you know how much pain levi is in every time he thinks about the lack of suki screentime . it’s a lot . suki is just too good for the amount of screentime she has, he’s sorry, but it’s true. this is evidenced by the scene of her literally running across prisoners’ heads to apprehend the warden of boiling rock. that scene speaks for itself—she and the other kyoshi warriors end up as zuko’s body guards for a reason. 

he will never let anyone forget that if it weren’t for suki, sokka would still be a misogynist. she was an essential element to sokka’s growth as a character and everyone had better remember it or so help him. also , he is a firm believer in the fact that suki was the best love interest for sokka, with zuko as a close second. don’t ask questions. rip yue but argue with the wall.

his favorite line in the series? 

“zuko’s gone crazy! i made a sand sculpture of suki, and he destroyed it! oh, and he’s attacking aang.” 

it’s not profound or cool or anything like that, but it makes him smile and giggle every time he thinks of it ^_^. 

does he like any other characters? he has a lot of love for toph and azula for the sole fact that the series improved exponentially after both of their introductions; he thinks both of them are in leagues of their own and seeing them in action just puts a smile on his face. he’s also inexplicably fond of king bumi. 

does he hate any characters? not particularly, actually! he pretty much respects and appreciates everyone, except the guy who mutilated his thirteen year old son for speaking out of turn.

satan 

just pick a girl. any girl. and from the way he talks about them, you’ll think they’re his favorite. he can and will go on about the girls of atla for the rest of eternity.

but since we’re being specific:

katara appreciator. azula enjoyer. basically, between him and lucifer, no tongue raised against azula shall prosper. he has a deep respect for each of their wraths. he also really must have a thing for angst because both of these characters just break his heart. 

if you let him (in other words, if you’re levi), he will go on about how it’s not fair that people call katara annoying when, in reality, she just hasn’t healed from the trauma of seeing her mother’s corpse at age eight, followed by having to take care of her village, meaning she got literally no time to grieve properly, and—

call katara annoying in front of him and you might actually have to meet god for your shallow views of such a deep, complex character. 

he will also go on and on about how katara would be the best bender in the show, if it weren’t for toph, who is untouchable. instead, he’ll talk about how katara almost killed pakku for being misogynistic and how she single handedly beat azula during sozin’s comet. you will frequently hear this man say, “katara aang’s master for a reason,” and he’s right. 

similar to if you call katara annoying, if you call azula scary in front of satan, he’s bullying you. he’s sorry, but it has to happen. no way you’re scared of a traumatized fourteen year old, what are you, eight? or do you have no understanding of azula’s depth? both are unacceptable. 

satan is the average azula enjoyer, times about seven. you simply won’t get away with speaking poorly of azula in front of this man, so if you’re like mammon and don’t like her, you better tread very carefully. 

one time mammon tried to be like, “azula is too far gone to deserve redemption anyways,” and satan literally reverted to his demon form as he said: “if i were abandoned with my terrible father as a child, with literally no one to help me, and then my friends betrayed me, and then, as i was about to be crowned ruler of my country, my dumb fucking idiot brother showed up with his dumb peasant friend for backup, which isn’t even allowed, i might be mad forever too, actually—” and then he threw the nearest chair at mammon for his criminally bad take.

another reason why satan loves azula so much is because he’s convinced she’s a lesbian and satan is the most “let’s go lesbians!!!” person you will ever meet. you actually can’t convince him that she isn’t a lesbian. forget chan. nobody gives a fuck about chan.

what’s his favorite line in the entire series? 

“trust me, zuko—it’s not going to be much of a match.” 

like, come on. katara is just too good. 

does he like any other characters (other than the girls of atla)? he’ll never admit it, but he has a lot of respect for sokka and a soft spot for him because he reminds him of mammon. he also has a lot of respect for aang because he reminds him of beel of how well he handled literally everything despite being twelve. 

does he hate any—yes. never speak of avatar roku. or iroh. or ozai. for good measure, don’t mention general zhao either. 

asmo 

what lucifer is to azula, asmo is to ty lee. like do i even have to say anything else. but for what it’s worth, he also love, love, loves azula because she reminds him of lucifer, from her strength and class, all the way down to her descent into madness. and even though she breaks his heart just as much as she does satan’s. he may or may not have cried over azula in satan’s room while they were talking about her. unlike lucifer and satan, he can respect it if you don’t like her, but it’ll make him so sad. 

but enough about azula. ty lee is where it’s at for him. her subtle strength and unwavering love is something to die for, and he will defend it against anyone, up to and including lucifer, and he’ll win too. asmo is not to be trifled with and neither is ty lee; he can make a strong argument as to why ty lee is the strongest character in the show, and you will have a very hard time trying to refute his points. (the main point being: it’ll be really hard to win a fight against someone who can paralyze you in a few seconds, bender or not.)

the fact that ty lee ran away from home because she was tired of the fact that nobody ever saw her as her own person is just something that tugs at asmo’s heartstrings. he thinks ty lee’s bravery is just something that can be so personal. 

also—he has a massive appreciation for the fact that, even though there’s a war going on and ty lee is in near-constant danger, she still has the sense to maintain her appearance and worry about the skincare of not just herself, but also people she’s close to. that is a detail he will never let anyone forget. 

never mentions it in front of lucifer but one of his favorite scenes is when she paralyzes azula to save mai. once again: ty lee’s bravery is just something that can be so personal. 

he doesn’t have a favorite line in the series, but his favorite exchange of dialogue is between ty lee and azula, wherein ty lee is trying to teach azula how to flirt. he thinks it’s the cutest thing in the world.

does he like any other characters? of course! he likes everyone ^_^ . you’d actually be hard pressed to find someone he hates. ozai. it’s ozai. he has a real soft spot for mai because she reminds him of belphie. something about their shared aversion to affection is just so cute to him!

beel

aang supremacist, will hold steadfast to the fact that aang is the best character in the show and you will struggle to figure out how to convince him otherwise. 

if you ask him why aang is his favorite, the first thing he will do is gesture to a picture of him and say, “look at the material,” like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, before diving into a ten minute in depth character analysis for this boy. 

come on. he shouldn’t even have to explain himself. not only is aang one of the strongest, most competent avatars to exist, ever, he also mastered all four elements in a year, when he was twelve—he’s literally a different breed. and he managed to beat ozai in his own way, without killing him, as a means of staying true to a culture that could have literally died with him at any point in the show. aang is just fucking class.

he also admires aang for his near unwavering kindness and lighthearted nature. and for never going berserk and killing everyone he sees, especially after finding out his people were killed while he was in ice.

you have no idea how much pain beel was in when he found out that the air nomads were just gone. seeing a child find out that not only their family is gone, but also the entirety of their people and culture, just absolutely broke his heart. and that guilt aang was feeling? hit way too close to home for him. 

he also thinks it’s really nice that aang was so quick to forgive zuko after everything, and the two of them ended up being really good friends. it just puts a smile on his face. 

after some reflection with levi, he would’ve liked to see the full scope of an airbender’s power in the series; as in, he would’ve liked to see someone suffocated, but it’s okay, because aang wasn’t like that.  and he heard it happens in the next series over.

anyway, beel’s favorite quote in the show...well, it isn’t really a quote, as much as it’s a dialogue between two characters. it’s the scene where toph asks, “do you really think friendships can last more than one lifetime?” and aang says, “i don’t see why not.” it could bring a tears to his eyes just thinking about it; and in the next series over when it’s proven to be true, he absolutely cried. 

does he like any other characters? he’s actually really fond of zuko and mai because they both remind him of belphie. he also likes sokka for the same reason lucifer and satan like sokka. he has a deep appreciation for katara because aang would literally be dead without if it weren’t for her.

does he hate any characters? well, he doesn’t really like azula. he feels bad for her, but he doesn’t like her. but as for who he hates? take a wild guess. 

belphie 

zuko makes him sob is his number one. yes zuko is his favorite because of his redemption arc, yes he sees himself in zuko, no he will not explain any further than that, what’s your point🤨

in actuality, he will never be able to properly articulate how important it is for him to see that redemption is, indeed, attainable, if you put the work in. in a similar vein, he will also never be able to give words to how important it is for him to see that forgiveness is also attainable.  it means the world to him. that is why it makes him cry. the feeling is overwhelming. i’m gonna cry if i think about it for too long.

he will cling to the fact that zuko is the best character in the show, and he will cling to it even when zuko embarrasses him by saying stupid shit like, “no lightning today?” and even when zuko is so awkward it causes him physical pain. that’s his number one and he’s not changing on it!

firm zukka supporter. will not argue. that’s all.

what’s his favorite line in the entire series? it’s one of the two you’re thinking of. make that decision for yourself.

does he like any other characters? he positively adores aang and will readily admit that it’s because he reminds him of beel. bonus points for aang because he also loves the dynamic between him and zuko. toph is a distant third, mainly because he just really likes her attitude. he looks at her and thinks, now this is someone who would not hesitate to kick lucifer’s ass. 

does he hate any characters? you better believe it. he hates iroh because he reminds him of dia. he can’t really bring himself to like azula because she makes him a different kind of sad. and if you know what’s good for you, you will never mention ozai. 

[the-queer-observer]

The TOXICITY of straight dating culture: Do you even realize what you teach?

A few months ago, a straight teenage girl explained her crush to me with the sentence “He’s so toxic.”

I know a 17-year-old girl with a little to no clue of how a non-toxic relationship should look like.

I started noticing a certain pattern online and in my real life too.

Now it’s a time for my first disclaimer: I am not straight myself. Nope. Not at all. Perhaps that’s why I see through it.

To this point, all I have done about this is that I have complained to some friends, got over it and went on with my life.

Today, a girl, no older than twelve, has told me about her crush on a “bad boy” and we talked about him for a second. He really did seem like what the definition of a bad boy is for tweens.

I snapped.

And here I am, writing my first tumblr post ever on this very topic.

I want to make clear, this is not an attack on those girls. This is an attack on the society, what it taught them and what it failed to teach.

The youngest girl and me, we talked about music. She said she liked “dramatic” songs and played me some of her favorites.

Disclaimer number two: I did know both the artists, but I don’t actually listen to them. The closest to mainstream music my playlists get is Take me to church by Hozier, the rest being a wide range of songs, interprets and genres from pop punk to death metal and everything in between.

I was actually surprised. One of the two artists she played for me was Billie Eilish. The beginning of the song went:

Don't be cautious, don't be kind

You committed, I'm your crime

Push my button anytime

You got your finger on the trigger

But your trigger finger's mine

The second song was by Maroon 5.

It was even worse:

So what you trying to do to me

It's like we can't stop, we're enemies

But we get along when I'm inside you, eh

You're like a drug that's killing me

I cut you out entirely

But I get so high when I'm inside you

Yeah you can start over you can run free

You can find other fish in the sea

You can pretend it's meant to be

But you can't stay away from me

I can still hear you making that sound

Taking me down rolling on the ground

You can pretend that it was me

But no, oh

I am not going to argue about whether it’s appropriate or whether she understands the lyrics the way I do. It doesn’t even matter. She understands the drama in the song. She understands it enough for me to be concerned.

There are other songs like that. There is a whole culture teaching pre-teen and teenage girls, that “they can’t get away”, romanticizing toxic people and toxic relationships, blurring the lines of consent and guess what? The girls believe it’s the way it’s supposed to be.

I texted my girlfriend and we spent some time looking for straight love-songs, celebrating healthy relationships. None of them were mainstream, but we found things like:

That the world is ugly

But you're beautiful to me

Are you thinking of me

Like I'm thinking of you

I would say I'm sorry, though

Though I really need to go

I just wanted you to know

I wanted you to know

I wanted you to know

I'm thinking of you every night, every day

(My Chemical romance)

And

Desperate for changing

Starving for truth

I'm closer to where I started

I'm chasing after you

I'm falling even more in love with you

Letting go of all I've held on to

I'm standing here until you make me move

I'm hanging by a moment here with you

Forgetting all I'm lacking

Completely incomplete

I'll take your invitation

You take all of me now

(Lifehouse)

First of all: Those are 4 extracts of songs, chosen by me to demonstrate my point and they may or may not reflect the reality, you (the reader) see: those two songs might be just an exception, but in that case this post is still not canceled, because there is enough of other correlations and causation for me to have a reason to write this.

Those songs are “dramatic”, but the drama shifts from the relationship itself and its toxicity to the circumstances and environment. My girlfriend even recommended a punk song called Ne touche pas moi (Do not touch me), which is entirely about consent.

I am not explicitly saying that the songs she played for me are bad. It’s not for me to decide.

But all Billie Eilish’ fans I ever met were in the age range between eleven and fourteen, so I am supposing that’s her target audience. As for Maroon 5, I have no idea. However, music influences us. The girl is old enough to know what kind of music she likes and wants to listen to and with the peer pressure going on there, her parents do not really have a say in what she listens to and they are not to be blamed for this.

It’s the culture.

Toxicity is not a positive trait to look for in a potential partner. Even if he is a good looking one.

Enough of music.

Do you know who the toxic crush was?

Draco Malfoy.

One of the most famous of all characters in media, famously portrayed by Tom Felton in the Harry Potter film series.

Disclaimer number four: I have a problem with the books and movies and I also have some issues with the author.

Still, I see a fandom celebrating the love of Severus Snape for Lilly Evans Potter. Except it’s not love and it’s not a crush either. It’s an obsession. One that has become so iconic, the word “Always” is one of the main symbols of Harry Potter.

It shouldn’t be.

It should have never happened.

Draco Malfoy is quite the same thing. He is a racist, a bully. He is raised to be one, sure... That’s not an excuse. He doesn’t actually have a canonical redemption arch (not counting the deleted scene from the last movie and the Cursed child). If he came up to Hermione, acknowledging his mistakes, apologizing for his behavior, then maybe. Perhaps... That’s another story though. My point is, Rowling fails to actually depict problematic characters as actually problematic, they are romanticized by her, the filmmakers, the fandom and the wider audience.

Girls are taught to be the ones to make the redemption arch happen, irl or in fiction. They are supposed to date whoever is into them, regardless of whether they like the person back, and it’s unbelievably often I see them crushing on villains and problematic people like Draco Malfoy, because they are taught, he would change for them or that they could change him.

Toxicity is not a positive trait to look for in a potential partner. Even if he is a good looking one.

Those together result in a complete lack of knowledge of how a healthy relationship should look like. That’s the case of the third girl I mentioned. Being best friends with both her and her current boyfriend, I had three points of view on their relationship. It’s only been the past few weeks, not more than two month it has shifted to a more positive, healthy relationship.

It’s not the girl’s fault. They learn what a healthy relationship is the hard way, mostly after going through a toxic one(s).

WHY?

The sentence: “I always fall for the bad guys.” lacks the essential: “because the society taught me to” part.

It’s so common.

It’s too common.

It’s not even that we wouldn’t talk about it: we do. But you celebrate it. And that is not okay and that is the reason I am typing this.

Disclaimer number 5: The gender roles in this post are based off of my observations. I do acknowledge the fact that girls can be and sometimes are the toxic person in the relationship and that the lesson boys are thought is no way better (more freeing perhaps, but not right either) . It might not be specific to the straight culture either, but again, my observations were.

I was about thirteen, when I figured out I was gay and I had to learn everything on my own. How the relationships should work out, what is healthy and what is not... I had to learn on my own because the society failed to teach me anything. I am yet to decide whether that’s better or worse than teaching the wrong one.

[gypsydanger01]

THE STORM - Part eight

Fandom: The Boys (Amazon prime tv series)

Pairing: Black Noir x OC

Disclaimer: I don’t own The Boys, only my OC characters and certain pieces of au plot.

A/N: So here’s part eight!! It’s the first of two parts I’m dedicating to the Origins of the OC character. It explains her ties to Vought and the reason why she’s plotting against them. There is no Black Noir in this chapter :( but it’s important for the story. The next chapter will explain her connection to Mallory, and then after that you’ll be seeing much more interaction with our boy Black Noir!!

Comments, reviews, constructive criticism, and other requests are always more than welcome!

    Posting new chapters on Wednesday and Friday!

The Beginning

That night she found herself running in her dreams, just as she did every time she let herself sleep. It always revolved around the beginning of it all, the birth of what plagued her and would haunt her for the rest of her life. She always found herself back at square one, Vought Laboratories.

When she’d been diagnosed with a rare form of immune disease, her parents had been devastated at the lack of resources or therapies available. They’d do anything for her, and they scoured the country’s best hospitals and universities for medicines and potential therapies. Greg and Tara wanted their little girl cured, they wanted her to get a chance at life.

Finally, they found an experimental drug going through clinical trials that might’ve proved successful in correcting the genetic error that was triggering her immune system into attacking her own cells. A team of recruiters from Vought had approached them one day at a hospital, while she’d been getting ready for a check-up. They said they’d investigated her case and had spots available in their trials should she want to try it out. Since the medicine was still under observation, they could only assure an 85% rate of success, and at a lower price. They visited their home multiple times with fliers, power points and data. They assured her parents of the drug’s safety. While it worked in 85% of the patients it never demonstrated any kind of risk or dangerous counter effects. Her parents stayed skeptical for many months, asking questions, and raising concerns, but what ultimately pushed them was their daughter’s heart failure and hospitalization.

She was nine at the time. And as her time quickly diminished, Greg and Tara hurried and signed her up for the program. The experts and physicians at Vought visited her and gathered all of her information before quickly drafting the appropriate dosage for her. She’d have to stay at Vought Laboratories’ clinic far from the city, isolated from the outside world. They had explained this by pointing out the fragile state of her immune system, and the need for her to recover in a safe environment. Lies, so many lies.

The first months went by smoothly, and while she missed her parents, the little girl played with her new friends enjoying the renewed energy coursing through her body. She could run again, and dance and hop without needing to lie down. She could see her parents through a glass window during visitation day every week and they, too, felt relief when they saw her so lively, so different from the pale, skeletal figure she’d been after her hospitalization. Tara felt horrible over the first weeks of not having her at home, not being able to care for her and simply hold her daughter. But when she saw her on the other side of the glass pane, she couldn’t imagine stripping this opportunity away from her.

“Mommy, mommy, look,” the little girl would call while twirling and running around the room, jumping in excitement.

Tara pressed her hand against the glass, eyes brimmed with tears.

“Yes, honey, I see—you’re so strong now.”

The little girl just nodded enthusiastically.

A year later is when the trouble started. She had almost reached the end of therapy when she was moved to another section of the clinic with another small group of kids ranging from about ten to fourteen years old. They were shown a power point explaining their purpose in the project. She hadn’t understood at that time, but she now knew what they meant to say was “guinea pigs.” Basically, the drugs they had been taking had modified certain sequences in their genome in a way that diverged from other subjects. They wanted to understand why, as well as see how far they could go. They concluded by saying that they might end up with powers.

Now, superheroes already existed even though they weren’t yet such an important trademark. But people believed they were born that way. And here you had scientists telling young, impressionable children that they could develop powers even though they weren’t born with them. One can only imagine how they awaited with glee for the program to start.

The children saw their parents less and less, and this was explained by their busy schedule of medical visits, tests, activities, school, and sports which were all provided in this secluded, isolated section of the clinic. What they were actually doing was being subjected to insane amounts of physical and psychological stress. Now the drug had proceeded to cure and further improve their cell genes, but there was a need for an environmental stressor to induce the mutation’s manifestation. They had to wake these new, dormant genes, and for this reason they did atrocious things.

One kid, Norman, presented a gene that is found in organisms that can breathe underwater. They proceeded to force him underwater and keep him there until he was on the brink of drowning.

Another one, Chloe, was thought to be able to heal as her genome held a gene commonly found in animals capable of regrowing a limb, such as lizards. They cut, burned, and maimed her for results.

Some of the children ended up developing a reaction to the duress, awakening their evolved genes. Others died from the intensity of the physical torture. And of those who successfully became enhanced, only few ultimately survived due to the instability of their mutation.

A comment frequently noted by the physicians when taking the patients’ parameters was that the reaction, the gene’s manifestation tended to grow stronger and stronger ‘till it became unsuitable for life. In other words, it ended up killing the host.

Greg and Tara’s little girl too endured the process to achieve greatness, as they had called it. And at first, she’d been enthusiastic, dreaming of becoming a superhero. She stayed up late after-hours skimming through comic books brought in by the therapists. Only later would she understand they had preyed on their naivety and dreams. The children grew obsessed with becoming like the characters in the comic books. The little boys dreamed of becoming like Homelander, and the little girls dreamed of flying.

Greg and Tara couldn’t know that their little one, instead of learning in class, spent her morning being constantly electrocuted. The physicians had high hopes for her and projected that she’d be able to conduct great amounts of energy through her body without burning or dying from electrocution. Her feet in freezing cold water, she sat in a hard, metal chair with a wired contraption wrapped over her forehead.

Every day, she was subjected to shocks of increasing intensity. They talked of “jerking her awake,” hoping that the right shock would trigger her genes into working against the effects of the shock. Finally, one morning, the pain subsided, and she began to absorb the energy rather than try to escape it. It felt odd to her, a warmth pervading her completely. The physicians were beyond content, they were amazed by her abilities. She was a success. They quickly learned she was able to absorb different forms of energy and transfer it. She practiced sticking a finger in an electrical socket before touching the objects laid in front of her. Immediately, the object would fly away, scalding hot.

But the initial glee of having powers slowly faded away, and the girl who was turning twelve wanted it to be over. She just wanted to go home. She yearned to call her mommy and daddy to come and take her away, and every time she saw a cell phone laying around, she subconsciously moved towards it. Unfortunately, she didn’t know their numbers.

She talked about it with the clinic’s therapist.

“Why is this coming up now? Is something wrong?”

The girl fidgeted in her seat, “I just want to go home.”

The therapist gave her a stretched smile, cold and far too wide.

“I understand you miss your mommy and daddy, but you have to stay so we can make sure you’re okay.”

She whined, “But I’m doing better.”

“I know, honey, but—”

The little girl grew fussy and cut her off, “I want my mommy.” When the therapist began to comfort her with empty promises, that distinct feeling of total warmth spread throughout her body. Her eyes shined a light blue, like lasers ready to sizzle anything in front of her, and the therapist immediately stopped speaking.

“There’s no need for that, we’ll set up a visitation day,” she quickly granted, gathering her folder and leaving the room.

The girl grew increasingly aggressive and wouldn’t allow the physicians to touch her. She didn’t want anyone but her parents.

When the day finally came, her parents were ecstatic to see and spend some time with her after two weeks of not being able to contact her. The therapy had worked, and they were thankful to Vought, but what they saw that day haunted the last few minutes of their lives. Their daughter looked ghastly, caramel skin chalky and dry. Her eyes were tired and dark bags hung under her eyes. To her mother’s horror, she looked as sick as her days in and out of hospitals before Vought’s medications. Tara pressed her hand to the glass, tears running down her face. The little girl immediately ran up to the glass, speaking fast.

“Please, I wanna go home,” she pleaded over and over, like a mantra of desperate hope.

Her father grew agitated and turned on her therapist who was also in the room to smooth things over. Certain things couldn’t be said and leave the building. It would bring the world’s ethics community down on all of their heads. This was worse than pumping Compound V into newborns. This was altering children’s DNA and torturing the survivors into an enhanced state of being.

“What happened to her? She was doing so well,” he exclaimed.

“Mr. Stacker, please there is no need to yell,” his face twisted in anger as she continued, “She has been rejecting the medications, we believe she hasn’t been taking them regularly as she’s supposed to.”

“She’s almost twelve, you’re supposed to check that she does that.”

The little girl was crying at this point, banging her little fists soundlessly against the glass.

“Mommy, help me.”

The therapist tried to grab the distressed parents’ attention, “If you could follow me, we can talk about this in more detail.”

“We can do that here,” Greg countered, “we’ve been here for not even five minutes and our daughter is crying out to us—you think we’ll just leave her?”

“No, sir—I just assumed—”

The girls pleading voice cut through her parents’ hearts, “They’re hurting me.”

Her father stared at her. What had they done? The choice had been difficult and ultimately, they decided between the therapy and her disease, between life and death. But if they were hurting her for all this time, it wasn’t life. It was solitary pain.

Tara was crying as she too turned on the therapist who wasn’t sure how to save the situation. Her father firmly stated what they’d both already decided, “We’re taking her home.”

“But sir, you signed a contract—”

“I don’t give a damn, she’s coming home—we can bash this out in court if you care about this contract that much.” He leaned closer, “But I’m sure you don’t want this whole project leaked, do you? What are you actually doing here?”

The therapist plucked her com from her pocket and quickly spoke into it, “We need security in visitation room number nine, I repeat, visitation room number nine.”

Tara erupted, “What do you mean security? You can’t take us away from her.”

“Like I was trying to say, the contract—"

The distressed mother screamed, “We don’t give a fuck about the contract—fucking sue us.”

And then all mayhem erupted. Four security guards burst into the room and quickly grabbed a hold on the two parents, trying to cuff them. Tara looked back at the little girl as they resisted.

“We’ll get you baby, okay? Marianna, look at me, you’re coming home.”

Her father punched a guard before being hit in the ribs with a baton. He fell to the floor and they were all onto him, beating and beating, not giving him the chance to stand back up. Tara screamed and tried to pry them from her husband before one swung at her and pushed her into a corner. The therapist quickly fled the scene, her heels clicking away.

The little girl watched and watched, and when she saw her father stop moving, when she saw her mother being tossed away, something snapped. It was like her center shifted, and an all-consuming anger pervaded her senses, taking over.

It happened so fast, her eyes lighting up, the building shaking, then the shattering blast.

When the dust finally settled, there was nothing left but a crater and a little girl lying amid the smoke and ashes. Curled up in a ball, shivering, she was the bomb still intact. She was the eye of the storm.

MASTERLIST

Tag list: @ateliefloresdaprimavera @ellejo @dust-bun @coco724 ​  @proximio-5 @damiminator @omegahighendpro @rpgluvr95 @sweetrabbitteamx

[dcbicki]

Mike, El, and the importance of intimacy and space

I know a lot of people aren’t happy with how Mike/Eleven was handled this season and so I’m here to spill some tea and offer some help. It wasn’t out-of-character, and it wasn’t bad writing. You’ve just gotta look below surface level and stop thinking everything is black and white because, spoiler alert, the Duffer Brothers aren't hacks. Here’s how Mileven’s relationship matured and got healthier in the third season, and why you should stop thinking it’s the end of the world:

First off, I saw it coming, and I’m glad my prediction was correct. It stung less, and I’m happy with that ending. I knew there would be a greater reason for Hopper to force space between them other than him just being in protective!Dad mode. They needed to learn how to be together while also maintaining a healthy distance.

I think if you’re unsatisfied with how they ended season three, or you feel cheated, or you’re depressed, it’s probably because you -- and I mean this in the nicest way possible, I really do -- missed the point completely.

In the first season, they get torn apart from one another after, like, seven days of knowing each other, but they don’t know how to handle separation because they’re twelve years old and they’re basically just strangers with deep infatuation... In the second season, El spies on him because she misses him, but, more importantly, she misses how he made her feel: accepted and at home, and Mike is unable to move on and so he doesn’t mourn her death because something deep within him is telling him not to (*cough* soulmate energy *cough). But then they’re reunited, and ever since then, Mike’s priority is keeping El safe. (This is why I have a problem with Max’s attitude towards El’s powers but that’s for another post).

In the third season, it’s established straight away that they’re pretty... erm, close, and apparently, they’ve been like that for six months (so ever since the Snowball, I guess). It’s understandable that Hopper wants to create some distance between them, and as the viewer, you’ve kinda got to side with him because these are teenagers, and they’re clearly maturing. That’s easy to see. But you’ve got to understand why they need time apart -- not Hopper’s reasons, but the writers’ motivations. Yes, it’s because they’re going to be “torn apart” from each other again.

If you spend every waking hour of every day with somebody, eventually you become co-dependent and you'll be unable to form other relationships. This isn’t Hopper’s objective, really. He just wants to keep El (and Mike) safe, and young. His plan isn’t to break them up but to make sure they learn the importance of space -- personal space! He needs her indoors for the time being, and so El makes up for this by inviting her boyfriend over every damn day to listen to cheesy music and makeout. And they are too close when the season starts. The writers use Hop to create physical space between them, and Max’s (questionable) friendship and advice to create psychological distance. But eventually, their feelings win out. And you know what else gets a win because of this? Their relationship. It becomes healthier, and they learn how to be together while also being apart, which is something they hadn’t had to face before. It’s the bittersweet halfway point between the first and second season finales.

If Hopper tells us that they’re too close, then we believe it. But the problem with seeing things through his -- and Max’s -- eyes is that the level of intimacy they’ve reached is actually a lot deeper than just kissing and hiding in her bedroom, and Mike “having her all to himself”. It’s played for comedic relief, and you’re led to believe they’re just being gross teenagers because that’s literally how the season starts. But if you fall for this, that means the writers did their job right, and you’ve fallen right into their trap.

Mike and El’s relationship isn’t “normal”, and so both Max and Lucas’ advice falls on deaf ears in the end. (What works for one couple isn’t going to work for the other when one half of the latter has superpowers.) Eventually, they just end up back together, but not in the same way they were before. It’s a lot less visibly shallow now. And it’s entirely intentional because the intimacy post-breakup is a lot more important than that in the first episode -- this is what we should be focusing on, and this is what’s going to enable them to be in a healthy relationship from here on out.

Mike is the only one (yeah, I said it!) that gives a shit about El’s actual well-being until she nearly gets her leg ripped off. Everyone else just seems all too eager to let El do her thing, and save the day as usual. Mike is the only one who respected Hopper’s instructions to keep her in the cabin until she’s allowed outside -- because, oh yeah, it’s not been a year! and Dustin’s house doesn’t count! and she does have a curfew so there are definite rules set in place that Max just totally disobeys! Mike is the only one who actually moves to defend her when she’s being, you know, strangled to death. Mike is her first protector, whether you like it or not, whether you want to admit it or not. He has been since the first season since he took her in and kept her safe.

El has, and people always ignore this, a serious hero complex. But it’s because she’s had to be the hero for everyone, and save the day, and so she doesn’t know when they stop. I’m all for giving her agency, and it’s great that she discovered herself this season, but we’ve gotta stop pretending she knows her limits. She doesn’t. Mike does, and Hopper does, and she has to be told to stop because otherwise, everyone else is just going to wait for her to pass out and then come up with a solution. She can’t be the constant savior; and Mike knew this but no one was listening.

Mike, while the de-facto leader of his group, also fulfills typical love interest tropes, but he’s special in that he’s a fourteen-year-old boy dating the teenaged hero. People are going to misinterpret his actions, including the other characters. He’s not controlling. He’s just rightfully concerned about things nobody else seems to be worried about. And eventually, El seems to just accept this: that Mike is her North Star.

This is where we get into intimacy. Ironically, everyone focuses on the kissing when it comes to these two but that’s really not the most important aspect of their relationship: it’s touch. The progression of touch between them is everything if you track it back to their first episode. Over time, El has gone from refusing the touch of his hand on her forearm to full-on collapsing into him. They quite literally fold into each other now, into a mess of hair and limbs and hands, and I’m not even entirely sure it’s intentional. Millie and Finn play it with such ease that I’m honestly kind of surprised two teenagers have such good chemistry that I just buy the progression. They don’t have to sell it. They don’t have to try. They give the most important part of Mike and El’s relationship away freely without words. It’s seamless.

Mike is her North Star: her constant, the first person she’s reached for since she allowed herself to, was given the choice. And the good thing about that? The North Star is always there, no matter how far away you move or where you go. You’ll always find it again. Even if they’re apart now, they’ll find their way back to one another because they know how: not through entering the void if she could, not by calling out into the nether because he’s losing hope, but because they’ve discovered how to love each other without it becoming all-consuming. They breached a level of intimacy that didn't involve hormones or sex as one might have expected; pent-up emotions were first expressed through intimate touch, and this, in turn, allowed them to reach a natural turning point in their relationship: in love, with boundaries set and feelings laid out. In fact, it was actually kind of normal of them. Strange, I know...

(PS: Also, they totes love each other. You’re welcome.)

[intheoryowl]

Diversity in KOTLC

[While commenting on this post please don't post spoilers for Unlocked just yet. Thanks. This post may contain legacy spoilers. This post is a repost of my Wattpad post that I made in Sunflower Crown called Diversity in KOTLC, so if you’ve seen this already please feel free to skip it. This post lines up with MLK day, but it was originally posted in reaction to Shannon Messenger announcing the live action movies.]

[Edit: Okay, after typing this post up I realize that there are a few more characters that are POC, but they’re not prominent at all, so the representation is still miniscule. They were mentioned, like, twice throughout the entire series. So, my point still stands.]

What's one thing you notice about the photo above?

Oh, yeah. All the characters are white, expect for the last three in the photo, which are all conveniently tacked onto the end.

Let's address the elephant in the room for everyone in the Keeper of the Lost Cities fandom. Recently, I've been thinking a lot about how little diversity there is within the cast, especially within the main group. I've been meaning to make a post about this since the #BLM movement started up, but I never got around to it.

I've found that a lot of the people in the fandom have been incredibly shy about having this conversation, but I think it's really time we have it. The cast contains very little diversity.

Disclaimer: Before anyone comes at me for this post, I'd like to first say that I've  been a huge KOTLC fan and a big fan of Shannon Messenger's work for a  long time. This isn't meant to be any sort of hate post, but instead a conversation I think we all need to have.

Let's start with the format of the art up above^.

First of all, out of eight characters 3 of them are POCs (or not white). Wylie isn't even in the main group/doesn't really enter the story until much later in the series. The same goes for Linh and Tam. They're all tacked onto the end of the photo, like they're just add-ons.

These three characters are the only characters I know the race of that are POC characters. Out of the entire series. Yes, the entire series. [And I would say that's the case for most people that aren't superfans or recently phased out of the series before art was starting to be released.] I wouldn't say I'm the biggest fan out there, but there aren't that many prominent characters in KOTLC, and just about every single one of them is white.

It feels like a last-ditch throw in when Shannon Messenger went *oops I forgot about diversity entirely!!*. I mean, think about it. Tam, Linh, and Wylie entered the series later on than everyone else.

The lack of diversity, quite frankly, I find ridiculous. And not even just because there are three characters out of eight in that photo (one of which that is POC isn't even in the main group, nevermind the original main group) are POC, and prominent characters. Not only is there a lack of diversity when it comes to race/features that aren't white, but Shannon Messenger also includes exactly zero LGBTQ+ representation throughout the entire series. There is nothing hinted, nothing said. Gender norms are never addressed in the story, and that's fine. But for there to be no gay/pan/aro/ace/freaking anything on the spectrum representation?? No trans representation? Non-binary? Hello??? I get that when she started the series LGBTQ+ characters might not have been something you saw in every single book, but even as new characters are added in we see absolutely no LGBTQ+ representation still. There's not even anyone questioning their sexuality or their gender identity. Nowadays, that's not only a huge part of being a teenager (I would know, I'm one), but also just something you would think is key in the identity of a character.

As a writer, when I start writing a book, one of the first things I do is make sure I know who I want my characters to be. Gender identity, race, sexuality, all of this - these are such fundamental parts to a character. Truthfully, i don't understand how you could just overlook them whatsoever. It's a choice you have to make, not a default setting that's already been turned on for you. I think - even to someone incredibly racist - that as an author writing a book, one would be aware of the outward appearance of their characters? Or the fact that all of the characters had one very certain thing in common? It's hard to miss, frankly, and it looks really bad.

There's really no excuse for it at the end of the day. You can't explain away the facts, and the facts are that the lack of diversity within KOTLC is concerning.

With KOTLC as well, the book doesn't even center around identity for the most part. It's fantasy, and that's what runs the plot, not someone's struggles with race. It really would've been just that easy for Shannon Messenger to throw in a few POC characters or people that weren't straight, maybe mention it in passing, and be done with it and we wouldn't even be having this conversation.

Another thing I'd like to bring up is the microaggressive character arcs of Linh and Tam song, the only two out of the entire central friend group that are diverse characters. (they appear to have some sort of asian heritage, in case you never caught that. But I bet you did with their very distinctly Chinese last names.) When Tam and Linh first appear in the book, they're suspected delinquents and exiled for crimes to a school of people that have been outcasted from society. They're seen as outsiders. During the story, we see the both of them climbing their way up in the ranks through hard work & connections. unlike everyone else who is going to Foxfire from the start, and we don't see them as nobility at first at all. Not only do the twins come into the story late, but they start out being pinned as supposed criminals (for going to their school which they were wrongly exiled to) and being the underdogs.

Twins are also scorned and families in the Lost Cities with twins are highly stigmatized. Same thing, the only two Asian characters in the entire series and they're the ones who have to be scorned instead of the white ones.

I'm sorry, but that rubs me the wrong way. it seems incredibly microaggressive to me. You're telling me that the only two characters of color [in the main group] are portrayed this way by accident? You couldn't have chosen any one of your fourteen white characters to play the role? Please.

Also, this might be a reach, but is there colorism also present in the KOTLC cast? The type of Asian that Linh and Tam seem to be (Eastern - Chinese, Japanese, Korean, etc) have a very light skin tone. Throughout all of KOTLC, the only skin tone darker than white is Wylie's character, who is obviously African-American. There is no one that looks Latina [okay, there is, it's Jensi who was mentioned twice in the first two books and never again], a different kind of Asian,  Romanian, Indian, Middle Eastern, nothing. Actually, you know what, it's not a reach. You're telling me that objectively based on facts, there is only one character out of the entire KOTLC universe that's skin tone is darker than paper? That's the standard?

To that I say: get outta here.

I'm not convinced that Shannon Messenger - as much as I love and adore her writing and her book series - ever truly cared about diversity and inclusivity among her characters. There's no representation other than straight, white, male, female, two Asians, and a single African American character (out of anyone who actually matters). That's it. Statistically speaking.

That's ridiculous.

[This is a later edit: someone in the comments also pointed out that the Lost Cities are located all over the world, meaning that having a mainly white cast also is whitewashing? This only gets worse the more you think about it, ugh.]

I understand that the majority of the KOTLC fanbase is very young. Believe me, I do. I'm probably one of the older fans that has been here for a while/still is here. Most people my age have moved on to fangirling over the Umbrella Academy or something. I get it. But I do believe that even twelve year olds can understand what I'm saying, stay informed, spread awareness, and think critically.  

One of the reasons I think Shannon hasn't been called out nearly as much for the lack of diversity and representation in her stories is because she has such a young readerbase. That's fine. I don't expect people that are ten and twelve to be thinking about any of this. It never occurred to me at the age, so why would it occur to you unless someone else brought it up first?

That said, now that I have brought it up, I think that the least you can do is have conversations with your friends, tag a few people, and think critically about the casts of your favorite books/people you stan. If you're not speaking up, it makes you look like you don't care that there's absolutely zero representation and diversity in the KOTLC series. And you should care.

Keeper of the Lost Cities is a very white, straight series. What does this mean? It means that it's inherently racist, likely colorist, and not currently supportive of any LGBTQ+ people on any LGBTQ+ spectrum. People out there just like you (if you're white) aren't seeing themselves in stories or media. Instead, they're being told that only if you have European heritage or a lighter skin tone can you be a hero. It's harmful. And we need to speak out against it.

[Not to mention that there are no different body types. This post was just on core character identity, and nothing else. As my friend StickyCarpet put in a conversation, what about religions? Do all elves believe the same things? There's very little identity variation between characters beyond their personalities.]

The reason I want to speak out so strongly now, is because as you may know, KOTLC is being made into a live-action series of movies. On screen, it's going to be even more visible and in-your-face that there's no representation. You know what that says to everyone who wasn't represented at least a little bit (or well)? It says we don't see you because we don't approve of who you are, which is just such an awful message to send. In the movies, it's going to be super important for especially younger readers to see themselves on screen. I don't want these movies to just be another movie chock-full of straight white people. It's time for change. This was never something that should've been the standard, so we need to try extremely hard to change it.

By no means will that magically fix or amend the fact that Shannon Messenger chose to put just about zero diversity into the story in the first place, but it will at least show that she's trying beyond throwing a few new characters with different skin tones in after people start calling her out for it.

Keeper of the Lost Cities is my favorite or second favorite series, and it was (and always will be) a huge part of my childhood. I'm a huge fan of the series myself, but I want to make my opinion on this subject very clear and encourage you to form your own opinion on it. I don't have instagram or socials, but I do have a large platform on Wattpad to spread awareness with. Please spread the message.

Please, if you can, tag people from the fandom in the comments. Share this post. Reblog it on tumblr or post it on instagram. We need to get the conversation started. It's not enough to just sit here and pretend like we're all okay with the fact that the series we all love is grossly unrepresentative/not diverse.

In the external link, you will find a carrd leading to Ways to Help & be a part of the #BlackLivesMatter movement, including ways that don't involve money. In my bio, there's a link that goes to all crisis resources around the globe with links to causes. Please feel free to share and utilize both links.

Thank you very much for reading & (hopefully) spreading the message/awareness with me! Your favorite series and author(?) possibly being racist is something that's harder to come to terms with, even for me at my age, so please don't blame yourself for everything and just try to help as much as you can ♡

[Please feel free to reblog and repost on any platform anywhere as necessary. Spreading the message regardless is much appreciated!]

[rejectofsociety]

I just thought I would post my BlackCat!MJ x Peter Parker one shot here, it’s also on Ao3. It’s kinda long. 

And warning: Major Character Death

Hope you enjoy

Michelle often got the feeling that her boyfriend was hiding something from her. Maybe it was the so-called midnight walks he constantly took, or how he would run off and disappear without a trace whenever a siren went off. Did this concern her? Yes, constantly. Did she have any idea what he was hiding? Absolutely not. The only thing she did know was he wasn't cheating on her. How did she know this? She just did. Peter was loyal and they had been through hell and back together. There was no separating them. Even their jobs took place side-by-side within the Daily Bugle headquarters— Peter as a photographer and Michelle as a editor. Neither made a lot of money, as a result Michelle took on a night job which had provided them with enough money to buy their own home.

Michelle sat with her legs draped over Peter's lap and her arm around his neck as she littered his face with gentle kisses. He would connect their lips anytime hers wandered too close to his as his hand stroked her leg lovingly. They wouldn't admit it to anyone, not even themselves, but they truly needed each other. Every moment they had alone together, they would hold each other close until it was uncomfortable. Then, they'd adjust positions and hold each other a little longer.

"You know I could give you everything," Michelle said as she turned her head away from her boyfriend, "a bigger house, a nicer car, lots of money."

"MJ, you are my everything. I don't need a bigger house or whatever," Peter said as he rested his head on her chest.

"Hm, I just got the taste of cheddar in my mouth," Michelle replied.

"Oh shut up," Peter chuckled as she ran her hands through his hair.

Michelle smiled warmly at him and closed her eyes lightly. She felt him land a tender kiss on her collarbone, making her exhale a joyful sigh.

"Can you go back to kissing me?" Peter requested.

She barked a laugh, "ha! No, I don't think I will."

He looked up at her with pleading eyes, "please?"

"No," She replied and slid off his lap, "I'm hungry."

As she turned to leave, Peter stood up and rested his hand on her waist. He let a mischievous smirk spread across his lips as she lingered in his touch.

"I got something you could eat," Peter offered slyly.

"Ooo," Michelle purred, "I see how you wanna play."

"Only if you're up for it," he hummed.

"Tempting, but I haven't eaten all day."

Peter quickly let go of her and stepped back, "MJ! Please, eat!"

"What's in the fridge or..."

"What's in the fridge," Peter waved her off, earning a laugh in reply.

He shook his head at her then picked his camera off their coffee table. As she fished through the fridge, Peter sat on one of the barstools at the island positioned in the middle of the kitchen. He flipped open his laptop and popped the memory card out of his camera.

Michelle looked over her shoulder at him as he uploaded his photos onto the computer and smiled to herself. He was definitely the best thing that had ever happened to her, considering the fact that she never knew her father and her mother died when she was twelve. Even though she and Peter were hardly friends at the time, he still reached out to her and kept her company, making sure she was never alone unless she needed to be. That's when she realized she liked him. It may have taken a few years for him to return her affections but, when he finally did, it was everything she had hoped for and much more.

She wanted to marry him, she just needed a ring.

As she sat at the barstool next to his with a yogurt cup she had retrieved from the fridge, Michelle looked over Peter's shoulder and watched as he uploaded his photos onto the computer. He scrolled through countless photos of Spiderman, the Winder Soldier, Captain America (or the Falcon, at this point it hardly mattered), and more as he ignored several notifications for emails.

Spending time together never got old. Even when they argued, were too upset to speak, or one slapped the other across the face, they couldn't help but be happy to just be aground each other. Their arguments had grown less and less frequent over the years once they both started to realize a simple truth: they couldn't fight over every little thing that bothered them, their relationship couldn't survive like that. It may seem like an obvious solution, but Peter was pretty sloppy and had ADHD while Michelle had been very upright with OCD— not always the best combination when it came to living together. Especially when she'd spend an hour showing Peter how things had to be organized only to realized he had been staring and a bug on the ceiling the entire time. It took a while, but they managed through it and now it was just another day in the life.

"Don't you have an article to be editing?" Peter asked after a while, "or is staring over my shoulder a part of your job?"

"Oh yeah, it's the most important part," Michelle replied, hardly joking, "I even get paid."

"Oh really?"

"Mhm. Two kisses per hour."

"Hm, not good enough. Four an hour," Peter decided, craning his neck to look into her eyes, "I'll even pay upfront."

"Gimme," Michelle wrapped her arms around his neck eagerly.

Peter chuckled in response and sealed their lips in a sweet kiss.

———

Peter gazed at his girlfriend for a few beats as he stood in the doorway of their bedroom. Michelle looked like a goddess with the way she laid, her body draped gracefully across their bed. She needed a few hours of sleep before 11:30 struck and she was forced to drag her ass to her night job. Peter could be laying with her, but he had other matters to tend to.

Peter quietly paced across the room to her and leaned over, lightly brushing her cheek with his lips.

"I'm gonna go on a walk," Peter whispered by Michelle's ear.

"Do you ever sleep," Michelle murmured groggily in response.

"I'm an insomniac, you know that," Peter smiled softly as she lazily waved him off.

That much was true: insomnia was something he had struggled with since he lost his uncle. His lack of sleep was something that had only worsened as time dragged on. With the "Endgame" mixed with the death of Tony, Quentin and his illusions haunting Peter's dreams, and his aunt's passing just over a year later, rest was rare. Thankfully, was learning to live with it and could function almost as well as a normal person with eight hours of sleep.

Peter walked out of their house then retreated into the depths of the city. He turned a corner and ducked into an alleyway before reaching under a dumpster, flicking a small lever, and releasing his Spiderman suit from its compartment. Keeping his superhero life a secret from his girlfriend probably wasn't the healthiest thing for their relationship, but it was for her safety. If anything were to happen to Michelle, Peter couldn't live with himself. Fuck, he couldn't live. Loosing her would me the last straw, he was already on his last leg.

Now, one might wonder "what about Ned?" And Peter would reply with "Fuck Ned." Their friendship had come to an abrupt, harsh halt after a series of events and shouting matches neither cared to relive.

Then came the question "what about the Avengers?" Peter's answer: "what Avengers?" They weren't really a "thing" anymore. Bucky and Sam had remained close friends with Wanda playing the role of third-wheel/basically Bucky's unofficial daughter. Carol sometimes checked in but not very consistently, plus she was often occupied with her relationship with Valkyrie. And Valkyrie was occupied with being the king of New Asgard. Thor was who knows where and no one even knew if he was still alive. T'challa had no interest in  being in a team, much less funding one. His sister, Shuri was someone Peter had always wanted to meet, but the stars had yet to align. The Guardians of the Galaxy hadn't spoken the heroes of earth since the "Endgame" and no one blamed them. Doctor Strange wanted nothing to do with Peter— nothing more needed to be said there. As for Rhodes, he had officially retired a year ago. The physical and mental wear had gotten the better of him, and (despite his hesitation) he stepped out of the suit for good. He and Peter were fairly close, so that's one person who would miss the young man if he were to die without Michelle.

There was Pepper and Morgan (who was now fourteen years old), but much to Peter's regret, he hadn't spoken to them since Tony's death. He really didn't have a reason anymore, but at first he simply couldn't bring himself to look into the eyes of a mini Tony. The wound of his mentor's loss was too fresh. But he wasn't the only one avoiding the gaze of a mini Tony. Pepper had a hard time looking at Peter for the same reason he couldn't look at her daughter. Because of this, the almost-family had lost contact. And when they finally did consider speaking, it seemed like it had been too long, like they hardly knew each other anymore.

What about Happy? Well, when May fell ill and died, so did Peter's friendship with Happy. They hadn't spoken since.

So Peter's isolation had been his own fault, and something he constantly regretted. But he had no will crawl back into the arms of what could have been a loving family. He had everything he could ever need with Michelle and sometimes Rhodes.

Peter, now dressed as Spiderman, perched on top of a billboard as he scanned his surroundings, "Karen, what time is it?" he asked.

"10:30. And if your sources are correct, there's a major sale of illegal weapons taking place in half an hour," Karen replied.

"Yep," Peter hooked his legs over the edge of the board and leaned back until he was hanging upside down, "and I should be able to wrap that up in time to see Black Cat."

"You seem to be quite fond of Black Cat," Karen observed.

"She's my only friend outside of MJ," Peter replied, "I mean, we're not friends friends. We just get along well and-"

"You refuse to do your job right when she's in the picture."

"Hey! That's not- who programmed you to say that?" Peter couldn't help but be offended by that, even if it was the truth.

"It was Rhodes’s idea," Karen answered, "who else's could it be?"

Peter chuckled, "no one I guess."

"Do you like Black Cat?"

"She's cool to hang out with. But if you're suggesting that I like like her, then calling you Artificial Intelligence would be a massive overstatement."

"I wasn't suggesting that," Karen somehow managed a defensive tone.

"Good," he replied shortly as he sat up right and readjusted his stance, "now let's get in position for this weapons sale."

"Would you like me to activate instant-kill?"

"NO! I thought I disabled that!"

"Well you didn't."

"I- ugh. Just stop it with the instant-kill."

He huffed and stepped off the billboard. Shooting a web to what his Spider-Sense told him was a safe platform, Peter launched himself through the cool, night air. As he glided through the city, he allowed himself to get lost in thought. He knew these streets all too well, swinging through the sky was as easy as breathing or walking. It wasn't something he had to think to hard about.

———

Michelle awoke abruptly to the Brooklyn Nine-Nine theme song blasting in her ear. She yelped in surprise and jolted upright, her hands frantically searching for her phone. Finally, her fingers brushed the cold box and she was able to shut off the alarm.

"Damn you, Peter," she hissed to her absent boyfriend, "that is the last time I let you pick my alarm."

Sighing and stretching sleep out of her body, Michelle tossed her phone onto her pillow then stood up. She unlocked and opened her suitcase and withdrew a skintight, black, leather suit. It covered everything below her collarbone and fit her perfectly.

After stripping down and redressing in the suit, she headed to the master bathroom and took out several makeup products plus a flowing, silver wig. For her night job, she  went heavy on the makeup. She had to. She'd make her skin look a shade lighter (she hated doing that), her facial features would eventually appear narrower, then she'd tuck away her curls underneath her wavy wig. To top everything off, Michelle placed a sleek mask over her face. It didn't cover much, but it was mostly to distract anyone who might recognize her eyes. Sure she could use colored contacts, but those made her eyes itch and dry up. Besides, she liked her mask.

I'm going to propose to Peter, she thought to herself as she slipped out a window into the shadow of her neighbor's house. I just need a ring. That means jewelry-store-I-can't-remember-the-name-of— you are my first victim.

She carefully traveled in the shadows until she reached the depths of her city. She sprinted across roofs and leapt with the grace of a cat from one building to another. Normally I go easy on Mister Friendly Neighborhood Spiderman, but if he tries stopping me from getting this engagement ring I will beat his ass to the ground.

Usually, she would think of engagement rings as a waste of money, and marriage as a social standard. But this was Peter fucking Parker she was talking about. In her mind, he deserved the world and the world didn't deserve him. He deserved a proper proposal with the perfect wedding (and how ever he defined a perfect wedding was up to him). She felt kind of gross with how much she loved Peter, no one had ever made her feel this way before. Everyone else she had been with was no more than a fleeting infatuation or a brief fling. Peter was her first boyfriend she had cared to be with for longer than a few weeks. He was the first one she actually loved to the point that thinking about not being with him made her feel physically ill.

Here we are: best place to get an engagement ring.  She thought happily as she landed elegantly on top of the jewelry store she always forgot the name of. Thankfully, the store was closed so she didn't have to worry about running in to an employee. But, this store had one hell of a security system that wasn't easy to avoid. Unless you had a friend who worked their and you knew the store inside out. Like Michelle. She had stripped this store clean of jewels and diamonds several times; she knew exactly how to get in and out without getting caught.

It was really quite simple: there was one corner of the interior that the security cameras didn't glare down upon, from there she could duck behind a counter and slip into a utility closest where the electricity box was kept. Then, she would shut off the box, making her presence seem to be no more than an unfortunate power outage. An unfortunate power outage that would shut off their security system and result in jewelry stolen.

Michelle hummed to herself as she browsed the collecting of rings with her hands folded neatly behind her back. Despite the deep darkness, she could effortlessly make out each individual hoop and their little diamonds. Her eyes bore down into the gems as she paced back and forth, picking up a few random bracelets and necklaces to satisfy her twitchy, kleptomaniac urges. She decorated herself with emeralds and rubies, knowing she'd be selling each one later for much more than it was worth, as she waited for a ring to capture her attention.

"I figured I'd see you here," a voice spoke from behind her.

Michelle whirled around to see none other than Spiderman standing with his arms crossed, "not a good time, Spider," she hissed.

He shrugged nonchalantly, "never is. But either way, I can't let you steal all of that."

"But I look amazing in it," Michelle flipped her silver hair over her shoulder and jokingly posed like a model, "you can't tell me otherwise, and you know it."

"Mm, true," he unfolded his arms, "but you could at least pay for it."

Michelle swiftly snatched an elegant ring whose gleam had caught her eye and slipped it her finger through it, "let's get this over with."

She swiftly paced across the small store and roundhouse kicked the man in the side. Hardly budging from his sturdy stance, Spiderman snapped his hands around her ankle and rapidly slammed her onto the ground. Gasping in pain as all the air in her lungs was sucked out, Michelle found herself frozen and stunned.

"There, we got that over with," Spiderman stated smartly, "now, I should probably turn you in."

"Not today, Spider," she spat.

She hopped up and raked her claws against his rock hard abs then punched him in the stomach with full force. Spiderman groaned sharply as he keeled over, keeping one hand clasped tightly over the bleeding wound. Michelle smirked in satisfaction. She had cut a bit deeper than she had intended to, but she could live with that. Whether or not the spider could live with that was a different story.

Michelle smirked and knelt down to be eye level with the hero. Her smirking eyes bore into him as she rested on hand on his knee. She could practically feel his frustration radiating off him, and she could tell his pain forced his eyes to squeeze shut.

"See you later, Spider," she purred with her silky voice.

"Fuck you," he grunted.

"Thought you said you have a girlfriend," she smartly retorted then sank her claws into his leg, earning a cry of pain, "good luck getting home."

With that, she wiped his blood off her hand and onto his suit, then stood upright. Stalking past him, she silently begged him to get home safe and see his girlfriend so she could tend his wounds and they could hold each other tightly.

As Black Cat hurried into the darkness of the streets, Peter called after her one last comment, "I let you have this one!"

With a deep breath (as if breathing could wash away the pain), Peter stood up shakily and shot a web at his leg as it oozed crimson blood. The goop stung the open wound violently, but it was worth it to assist in closing the gash. He managed to spit another wad of webbing onto his stomach and hissed gingerly. I'll be fine in a few days, but I'm lucky she didn't cut any deeper.

Before he could sigh in disappointment at his failure, an alarm blared in the distance. Rushing out of the jewelry store with an evident limp, Peter hurried to rescue and capture the separate thief.

———

Michelle yawned and stretched as she sprawled out on a random roof, a satisfied smirk painting her lips. It was about one in the morning now, meaning she'd get to go home soon. For now, she just needed a little breather but in a few minutes, she'd be curled up in Peter's strong arms as he stroked her hair lovingly.

"Sold it all ready?" A hero spoke.  

She sat up to gaze upon Spiderman who had noticed her lack of jewelry, "obviously."

Michelle pat the ground next to her and Spiderman gladly sat down next to her, "that ring you took... was that an engagement ring."

"Yep, sold that too," she held out her hand, showing that the ring was gone. But she didn't sell the ring, it was now safely hidden in her pocket.

"Ah. I figured," he smiled under his mask, "it made me think of my girlfriend," Michelle beamed warmly and crossed her legs, giving him her full attention, "I think I'm going to propose to her."

"You think?"

"Well, no," he chuckled and Michelle couldn't help but admire how fondly he spoke of the lucky lady, "I know I'm proposing. She deserves the world, and the world doesn't deserve her," he rubbed the back of his neck, "I just hope she says yes. Marriage isn't normally her thing, y'know?"

"I do now," Michelle chuckled, making the spider chortle quietly in response.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, just listening to the sounds of the city. Cars quietly roaring across the road, the occasionally honk of a horn— even early in the morning, Queens, New York was a restless city.

Michelle looked over at her spider friend as curiosity struck her bones, "hey, Spider?"

"Hm?"

"I know basically everything about you."

"Well, yeah. We've known each other  for years."

"Yeah, but there's one more thing I wanna know."

"What's that?"

"What do you look like? Like... can you take your mask off for me?"

Spiderman hesitated then choked out an anxious laugh, "you really wanna see that ugly-ass mess?"

She tilted her head to the side and nodded, "yeah. I'm sure you're not that bad."

He groaned, "ugh, I am."

"Well at least I'm prepared now," she gave a lopsided smile, "c'mon, I don't judge."

He took a deep breath, calming his jittery nerves, "alright, although I feel like this isn't a good idea."

"Show me your ugly face and I'll show you mine," she offered then flipped her hair with enough sass for the spider to touch, "actually my face is pretty hot, but you know what I mean."

"Wish I had your confidence," Spiderman laughed then gripped the edge of his mask.

The two went dead silent and Michelle squirmed with anticipation. Her heart fluttered in excitement while his palpitated in anxiety. He carefully peeled the mask off his face, letting his matted hair spring free.

The moment her eyes absorbed his soft features, Michelle's heart stopped in its tracks. She swallowed thickly and felt her lungs constrict violently as she recognized the young man before her.

She opened her mouth to choke out "Peter?" yet no sound came out. Peter looked away in embarrassment and fidgeted with the mask in his hands. I've been dating Spiderman for ten fucking years.... Michelle tried desperately to understand her situation as dismay rest heavy in her chest. Betrayal and fury towards Peter keeping such a secret flared up inside her. She clenched her fists, and for a brief moment she had the undeniable urge to slit his throat and end his life.

"So," Peter sheepishly spoke, defusing Michelle's violent instinct, "can I-"

He was interrupted by yelling and a cry for help in the distance, "I need to take care of that."

She opened her mouth to speak yet no words came out. Slightly embarrassed by her silence, Peter put his mask back on and turned around. Michelle watched him swing away until he was out of sight. Then, she ran like hell.

———

After sloppily washing away her makeup, removing the wig, and throwing the suit on the ground, Michelle collapsed onto her bed with her heart racing and tears threatening to fall. She had no idea what emotions or thoughts were racing through her confused mind.

"What is happening, what is happening, what just happened!" She rambled to herself.

Her heart was racing in panic as she raked her hands through her disheveled hair. But before she could be thrown into a panic attack, a quiet ding announced a new text and she scooped her phone into her hands.

Silver Sable: hey kitty, just got a job and I think you can do it for me

Michelle: not a good time

Silver Sable: please? It'll be a piece of cake

Michelle: What is it?

Silver Sable: Kill Spiderman

Michelle clapped her hand over her mouth and choked back a strangled cry of despair. Silver Sable was not only her closest friend (save Peter), but an anti-hero/villain-assassin-fore-hire badass that Michelle admired in every way. Turning her down was never an easy task.

Michelle: No

Silver Sable: oh c'mon. Don't be like that! I know you guys are friends but this is for a shit load of money. You can keep half of it

Michelle: I can't

Silver Sable: fine. 75% of the bounty

Silver Sable: Just think about how many times he's fucked us up or fucked up our colleagues. How much better our lives are going to be without him!

Michelle: Horrible! He's my boyfriend!

Silver Sable: Perfect! That'll make killing him even easier

Michelle: No! I'm not killing him and neither are you

Silver Sable: are you seriously choosing the life of some long-term booty call you had a crush on in high school over the lives of your best friends, colleagues, and family when you had none,  PLUS your career  and everything you've worked for your entire life?

Silver Sable: I thought you were better than that

Michelle: ...

"Who're you texting," Peter asked as he walked into their room.

Michelle's entire body jolted and she dropped her phone into her lap, "Jake from State Farm."

"None of my business," Peter smiled tiredly as he sat next to her, "my bad."

She briefly flashed a wavering simper yet found herself unable to make eye contact with her boyfriend who she wanted to desperately to marry just that morning. Now, she was unsure.

As she lay in Peter's arms with her eyes closed lightly, she couldn't shake off Silver Sable's words. Eventually, Peter's protective touch and comforting warmth had Michelle drifting off into an unsettled sleep while his exhausted, insomniac eyes remained gazing down at her body. Just like everyday at two in the morning when Michelle was fast asleep while rest rejected Peter's body, the young man found himself thanking the universe for the perfectly imperfect woman laying in his arms. Thank you for her, he praised nobody in particular, she's the best thing that's ever happened to me.

———

The next day, it was about nine in the evening and Michelle had just finished making dinner for herself and Peter. She had hardly spoken all day and as much as Peter worried, he learned over the years that when she got like this, it was best to leave her alone. She was most likely upset about something and she would confide in him when they lay in bed together in a few hours. For now, he'd merely smile his heartwarming grin, and hold her tightly every chance he got.

What Peter didn't know (aside from his girlfriend being a thief) was Michelle had been feeling sick to her stomach all day. Whether it was a stomach bug or the guilt that had been weighing on her all day, she had no idea. Either way, her mind hadn't wandered from the night before. There was too much for her to absorb calmly: her boyfriend was Spiderman, they were enemies, and he wanted to propose. And she wanted to propose. And Silver wanted her to kill him.

Michelle finished plating their meals, set the dishes on a counter, then turned around to grab silverware from a drawer. Peter stood up from his seat at their tiny table then grabbed the plates from the counter and set them on the table nearby.

"The one on the left it yours," Michelle spoke, suddenly and shortly.

Peter knit his brow but nodded anyways, "as you wish."

Dinner was silent and tense. Michelle's mind was racing as she watched Peter with every bite he took. Peter pretended not to notice her stare, although it made him mildly uncomfortable. It was like she was preying on him, waiting for something to happen but he didn't know what. How could he know when she had said roughly four sentences all day?

Michelle forced her last bite of steak down her throat then set her plate off to the side. Peter looked into her foggy eyes and frowned worriedly.

"You look pale," Peter observed as he reached across the table and held her hands tenderly.

Michelle glanced at him and stood up, "I need some fresh air."

Peter mimicked her motions and nodded, "let's go for a walk then."

She nodded stiffly and slid her hand into Peter's as they walked out the door with their coats. The sky was already dark, seeing as the sun had set hours ago. The night air was brisk and refreshing against their tense skin. Peter held Michelle's paw tightly with one hand while the other fidgeted anxiously with the ring in his pocket. It was his aunt's ring and she had left it behind for when Peter found the "right one." And Michelle was, without a doubt, the "right one."

Little did he know, Michelle's free hand was fidgeting with a ring as well. The one he had tried to stop her from steeling the night before. However, she felt like she should wait to use it. Maybe save it for tomorrow. Maybe the day after. Maybe never.

Suddenly, Peter stopped in his tracks. He was pale as the moon that shone through the clouds that fogged its view of the earth below. Michelle paused and looked down at him; he was trembling like an aspen leaf in the wind.

This is it, Michelle thought as she took a deep breath.

His legs gave out and he keeled over on one knee, his eyes wide and glassy, "M-Michelle..."

It's finally happening.

His gasped and coughed violently, crimson blood spurting from his lips. Michelle could only stare down at him as his expression twisted into one of terror and agony.

No turning back.

Pain lit up inside Peter like fireworks light up the night sky as he grit his teeth and shut his eyes tightly. He collapsed on all fours and choked for breath, only to be stopped by the blood pooling in his throat and oozed out from his parted lips. Tears trickled down his cheeks as Michelle knelt down. She knew she couldn't help him, but she could at least stroke his cheek lovingly as he writhed in pain. She gnawed on her lower lip until it bled too stop herself from breaking in to uncontrolled sobs.

Seeing Peter groaning and crying in pain as he choked on his own blood was almost too much for her to bare. Her stomach twisted into tight knots and she vision blurred with salty tears. She gathered him in her arms and let him gasp her sleeves and jeans, his blood dripping from the corners of his mouth to stain her shirt.

"Peter Parker," she spoke, her voice trembling and cracking, "I love you. I love you so, so much I can't even explain it. I can just feel it. I can physically feel it. A-and I am so sorry."

She clutched his body tightly, begging for his pain to end as she buried her face in the side of his neck. She felt his panicked pulse against her cheek as he cried out on last time, letting out all of the air and life in his lungs. Peter's body froze for a moment, tense and seeming almost unsure of death, then he relaxed completely. Michelle held his corpse tightly as she sobbed, her entire body shaking. She kissed his neck over and over as its warmth disappeared like the ghost he now was.

"I didn't wanna do this," she cried, her voice tight with despair.

She wailed and screamed into the night, teardrops streaming down her cheeks like rivers.

———

"So," Silver Sable purred silkily, "did you do it?"

Michelle, her cheeks red and eyes puffy, sat down at the barstool next to her friend. For a few beats, she couldn't find her voice so she stared at the bar around her. There were only a handful of people there, plus the two bartenders.

Finally, she nodded slowly, "yes," her volume hardly matched that of a whisperer.

Silver beamed proudly and pat her back with her powerful hand, producing a hallow thump, thump, "well done, Kitty! I'll need to show my employer his body— where's it at?"

"It's at my house," she murmured hoarsely, "we can stop by later."

"I'm so proud of you!" Silver squealed, "I'm so glad he's gone! Aren't you?"

Michelle swallowed thickly and stared at the counter in front of her. Eventually, she managed to shake her head 'no.' She was still trying to process what she had just done. She was so unfathomably empty, it was like she had gotten her soul and happiness sucked out of her body. And in a way, she had.

"Don't be like that, Kitty," Silver nudged her playfully.

"But... I loved him," Michelle managed weakly.

"You'll get over it soon enough," the assassin rolled her eyes, "let's start with a round of drinks. Y'know, to celebrate."

"Ah yes," Michelle heaved a sigh, "let us celebrate the long-awaited death of... of my spider."

Silver suspired as she shook off her excitement to recognize her friend's despair, "come here, Kitty," she wrapped her arm around Michelle and pulled her close, "you're the toughest chick I've ever met. You'll get through this."

Michelle stayed quiet. Her words were far from adequate, but that was about as sincere as Silver got. The metallic scent of death mixed with Peter's coffee-and-bagel scent was still lingering on her clothing. It filled her nose and clouded her mind until all she saw was the whiskey glass that had just been placed in front of her. I just ruined my own life, huh?

"Trust me," Silver reached for her glass, "you did the right thing."

[blueseakelp]

So I was watching Avatar the Last Airbender for the first time (the Ember Island Players episode), and it kind of slapped me in the face with emotions.

Because at first in the play, it’s funny and comedic, and the details aren’t quite right. We see most of the Gaang upset at how bad they’re being portrayed, in one way or another. And we get to see moments like Sokka tearing up at the part where Yue turns into the moon. But at this point, the play’s mostly just humorous, a bit annoying/insulting at worst.

In the next part though, we start to see some of the deeper implications of the play for the characters, namely Aang and Zuko.

For Zuko, we get to see how his feelings of having betrayed Uncle Iroh, as well as his guilt for many of the acts he committed while chasing the Avatar, still weigh on him. This leads to a nice heart to heart moment with Toph, and we get to see their friendship and more of Zuko’s steps on this new path.

For Aang, we see how he wanted to be with Katara, hoping the kiss between then before would propel the relationship further. We can see his hurt and disappointment when it doesn’t happen. This could also be where some of his insecurities come into play. Sure, he’s a super powerful bender, and shares a close bond with Katara but when it comes down to it, he’s twelve and she’s fourteen. He feels down and probably feels a sense of rejection from her, as well as being insecure about his shot with her. And to Aang, this is a super huge deal, so it affects him a lot. Trying to kiss her doesn’t help, and Aang goes back into the play likely feeling worse than before.

Then there’s the last part of the play. The Gaang has to fight and defeat Ozai to save the world. This already weighs heavy on them (after all, they’re young teenagers trying to defeat a powerful and ruthless leader), and to see it play out in the worst outcome is probably a blow to their confidence. While the play was supposed to be fun, it’s more stressful now.

Now we come to the deaths. At first, I though the whole Gaang died, but after rewatching it, I realized only Aang and Zuko die onstage.

Let’s start with Zuko. Here we have a crown prince who was banished from his entire nation for a seemingly small offense, a boy who relentlessly chased the Avatar in an attempt to regain honor and acceptance (and basically his self-worth), and now a teenager who is trying to be better, and is trying to help save the world. Zuko feels that he’s failed in many ways, especially that he’s failed his uncle, the closest person in his life. At his core, I think he wants to be an honorable person, a kind ruler and friend, a worthy leader to his people. And at this point in his life, he hasn’t exactly been the posterboy for these ideals, especially in his own view of himself. Anyway, back to his death on stage. He sees himself taken down by his sister, an event that could very well happen in real life, and he dies, yelling “honor”. That in and of itself is hard to deal with, knowing that his family is actually apt to kill him, and it is a real possibility. Also, I personally think the character onstage yelling “honor” still reminds him of himself when he was still trying to chase after everything that he thought would redeem himself (and ultimately failed to do what he thought it would). I think he fears being that same person at death, not having changed, and the idea is hard to deal with. And then, on top of him dying, the whole room watching the play explodes with clapping and cheers. These are Fire Nation people, his people, who he ultimately even got burned and banished for trying to protect. Zuko cares about their wellbeing, and these are people who were going to be his citizens, and still might be someday. And to see the way they think of him, as a traitor and someone worthy of death, that has to hurt deeply. Based on his character, he probably partly internalizes it as one of his faults, although some part of him has to recognize that some people will always think he’s a traitor. Either way, watching an entire theater of people cheer as you die onstage is a terrible feeling.

Now to move on to Aang. He’s already having a bad time, realizing he might not have a chance with someone he thought liked him back, and seeing the reality of fighting Ozai. And then, he’s killed by him. Even though he knows that he may loose to Ozai and loose his life during Sozin’s Comet, to see play out it further drills it into his head. To take it further, it’s not only his life he looses if he can’t defeat Ozai, but the world falls apart as well. I’d imagine that walking away from he play, Aang is probably even more stressed about his training and about fighting on the day of Sozin’s Comet, having seen a reality where he looses right in front of his face. To top it off, same as with Zuko, the crowd yet again claps and cheers. Aang’s onstage death obviously doesn’t have the same implications as Zuko’s, but it’s terrible in its own way. Throughout the series Aang can be impulsive and has his own struggles, but at the end of the day he tries his best and genuinely wants to keep people from being harmed. He’s a twelve year old boy that carries the burden and duty of an adult Avatar, and ultimately he decides not to run away, but to step up and save the world. Having people cheer for his death when he’s just trying to keep people from being hurt is most likely terrible for him. He’s seeing a world where he not only FAILS, but where people don’t seem to realize that he really just wants everyone to be safe and happy.

TL;DR: The Ember Island Players episode has lots of hurt and emotion behind it that doesn’t really get addressed in the show. Even though the Gaang has had people hate them and try to harm/kill them, watching yourself die onstage, especially with a roomful of people cheering, has to be extremely painful, especially for teenagers with huge expectations put on them and varying levels of self-esteem. This episode, while funny upfront, also shows another side of fear and pain that is very real for the members of the Gaang, especially Aang and Zuko.

Anyway, that’s my take on the Ember Island Players episode, it hit me when I first watched it, and again a second time as I watched it again. These are kids going through traumatic experiences that aren’t just war and dealing with terrible people.

Sorry that this was super long and convoluted, but thank you if you read it. I hope you’re safe and doing well <3

By the way, @nothing-more-than-hot-leaf-juice thanks! :)

[gumnut-logic]

The Dentist (pt15 - The End)

And here it is, I actually finished something, yay! I hope it measures up to your expectations :D Many thanks to @onereyofstarlight for helping me out with character actions and a partway read through :D

This fic is now 13,500 words long and most certainly not what I had in mind when I started it. It contains quite some touchy subjects including child abuse, mental illness, phobias and nasty dentists - please do not read if you feel uncomfortable with these subjects.

I should also acknowledge the complete lack of Kayo, Grandma and Brains in this fic. I kinda ignored them, sorry. I wanted to focus on the boys :D

For @shirubie for having the original idea :D

From here - One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Twelve | Thirteen | Fourteen | Fifteen

-o-o-o-

John Tracy was generally a calm man, but watching his big brother fall apart at the mere sight of this asshole was enough to fuel a rage burning so brightly it took out the sun.

And the worst of it? He could do nothing. All those responsible were dead. His parents weren’t here to ask why this hadn’t been followed up at the time. His maternal grandparents were long gone. The dentist himself, may he rot in hell, was hopefully doing exactly that. The one last remaining life to ask was taken from them by the onset of dementia.

John had stayed behind to keep an eye on Virgil while Scott flew to the nursing home. The nurse was there for a very good reason and no longer knew his own name, much less remembered a little four year old from quarter of a century ago.

So they were left with so few answers, no option for retribution, and a brother forever scarred by a dentist who got his jollies from children’s pain.

He had already chased down some experts who might be able to help Virgil. Ultimately it was up to his brother, but he was here and ready if he was needed.

Which led his thoughts to exactly this moment. Scott had Virgil in his arms, just holding him. There were no tears. If John was to assess Virgil’s condition, it would be closer to emotional exhaustion than grief. Perhaps there was relief in finally knowing the cause.

John felt mostly violation and rage.

But this wasn’t about John. This was about Virgil and helping him the best he could. But with Scott providing the comfort, John felt like a fifth wheel.

Scott had requested his presence in this discussion specifically for back up. It was unusual for him to be included is such a big brother moment, simply because the two eldest usually worked things out between them, except on the rare occasion they exploded at each other and John had to drop down from orbit to kick their asses.

But this kind of thing, this emotional support, was a Scott and Virgil exclusivity. John corralled the two youngest and monitored and listened to them. Scott and Virgil were older and regardless of them all being adults, it was a pecking order that had been maintained for years.

The fact Scott had asked for his help was a sign of the seriousness, the fear in this situation and the worry he had for Virgil.

But now he was stuck, unable to do anything.

A pair of brown eyes were staring at him.

Virgil straightened, separating himself from Scott, and John knew he had been discovered. Virgil, despite whatever was going on, always had a radar running on his younger brothers and could pick up their emotional state from miles off.

Literally, Virgil could read him in space.

“John?” The ‘are you okay’ was a redundant question. None of them were okay.

“I’m sorry, Virgil.”

Those hollow eyes frowned. “For what? Not your fault.” And the direction of comfort flipped. Virgil closed the distance between them, his stocky brother reaching up to put his hands on John’s shoulders for a moment, before pulling him into a hug. “I’ll be fine.”

The simple words knotted a lump in John’s throat and he found himself blinking. Sad blue eyes caught his and he drew strength from them.

His arms tightened around Virgil.

-o-o-o-

Gordon and Alan didn’t end up playing any games. Neither felt inclined in the slightest. Instead they sat together on Alan’s bed and stared at the ceiling.

“You think they’ve told him yet?” Alan’s voice was small and fearful, reminiscent of the little boy who used to climb into his bed at night in the thunderstorms.

“Maybe.” The light outside was dimming. It was past dinner but Gordon didn’t feel like eating and Alan hadn’t mentioned it either.

“How do you think he will react?”

It was a stupid question, but Gordon understood Alan’s need to ask it. “Virgil is the strongest of us. He’ll be fine.” He said the words, but he wasn’t sure he believed them. To discover such a horrible violation in his past...Gordon grit his teeth.

“Why would someone do something like that?”

There was profanity in his preferred answer. “The man was mentally ill, who knows what he was thinking.”

“The thought of being a kid and trapped in that chair-“

“Alan, try not to think of it that way.”

“Why not? It is what Virgil had to go through, shouldn’t we acknowledge it at least?”

“I have acknowledged it.” It was why he currently felt like tearing something to shreds. “But putting yourself through thoughts like that benefits no one.”

“It helps to understand what Virgil is going through.”

“What is there to understand? Our brother was violated and tortured when he was very little. It scarred him for life. The bastard who did it is dead and I can’t do anything to fix it.”

Alan shifted on the bed beside him, rolling over to face Gordon. A hand landed on his arm. Alan didn’t say anything, just stared at him with those baby blue eyes. A moment and his little brother lay his head on Gordon’s shoulder and curled up beside him. “I’m sorry, Gords.”

Gordon let out a shaky sigh and wrapped an arm around his little brother. “I know.”

-o-o-o-

It was strange learning about something that happened to you so long ago. Even stranger discovering that you had been violated in such a way.

His mind edged away from the memories. They were becoming clearer as the experience was uncovered moment by moment. How he had forgotten it all, he didn’t know. Part of him wished he had never remembered, but he understood why Scott had told him. He had needed to know.

But god...

This was hard.

So he disassociated. Stepped back. Let it happen to somebody else. Put up a protective shield between himself and his experiences.

Watched it through a lens.

Scott eyed him warily as they packed up the chairs and table and took them inside.

“Virg?”

“Huh?” The folded chair caught on its partner and refused to slide into storage smoothly. A shove and something snapped. Damn.

A hand landed on his shoulder.

“I’m fine.”

“We both know that is not true.” He found himself in a one armed hug and he didn’t know whether to feel grateful or frustrated, so ended up feeling both.

“Yeah, well, call it a work in progress.”

“Wanna watcha movie with us?”

His instinctive response was a firm no. But what else was he going to do? Hole up in his room and let the memories take over? The mere thought of that made him shiver.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Should we invite Gordon and Alan?” Scott’s voice was quiet, giving him an out if he needed it.

“Sure.” He said it before his brain could come up with why he should be hiding from his little brothers. But then he remembered the fear in Allie’s eyes and wanted nothing more than to extinguish it.

So he found himself seated on the lounge when Alan dashed into the room. Wordlessly, his little brother jumped the sofa and flew into his arms. “I’m so sorry, Virgil. So sorry.”

Virgil held Alan tight and found himself blinking away tears. “Not your fault, Allie. Not your fault.”

Gordon hovered his way down into the lounge and gently kicked Virgil’s leg. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to. His expression spoke of the worry and the anger and the frustration. Virgil frowned. Gordon couldn’t use the pool at the moment. He glanced at Scott and found his big brother frowning with likely a similar thought. Virgil would have to make sure they found a way to help Gordon vent his frustrations. The aquanaut could get volatile.

Alan climbed off Virgil eventually and curled up beside him. John found a movie, one with ridiculous space aliens made out of plasticine. Scott made popcorn and a family evening fell upon them for a couple of hours.

It was the best they could do. A lot of their laughter was forced and there was a lack of brotherly chattering and popcorn throwing, but they were together.

Virgil let himself sink into the sofa, each muscle mentally releasing from its clench. He found himself exhausted. His head was still pounding, but he didn’t want to risk any medication. Alan stayed curled up at his side the entire time. Gordon had clambered out of his chair and onto the lounge on Virgil’s other side and Virgil found himself sliding in his direction. The aquanaut didn’t seem to mind.

John sat next to Alan, his eyes tracking over all his brothers monitoring like the beloved monitor he was.

Scott sat on the floor between Virgil and Gordon.

Virgil stared at the top of his brother’s dark auburn crown, the flecks of grey and red dominated by deep brown. He reached out and touched Scott’s hair. It was soft from the shower earlier, lacking its more familiar product. As Scott turned to look up at him, a strand fell into his eyes. “Virg?”

“You’re going grey.”

At any other time, his brother would have shot off a barb of a response to such an accusation, but not tonight. “Yeah?” Blue eyes frowned a little worriedly at him as one alien shot another on the screen behind.

Virgil reached out and brushed the strand from his brother’s eyes. “Thank you.” It was whispered.

He felt every eye on him and the tear that tracked down his cheek was honesty itself.

Scott turned around and knelt before him, grabbing his hand. “You know you’ve always got us, Virgil. You know that, don’t you?”

And despite everything, he found himself caught up in fondness despite the tears. His hand tightened around his big brother’s fingers while Alan snuggled into one side and Gordon the other. A cool hand touched the nape of his neck and he glanced up to find John wrapped around Alan, reaching out to touch him.

His eyes turned back to Scott and managed a fragile smile. His voice was broken by exhaustion as yet another silent tear ran down his cheek. “I know.”

“I know.”

-o-o-o-

FIN.

[cruzrogue]

The Letter

Bruce Wayne/Original character featuring Alfred Pennyworth

Sitting in a massive home office. The tick tock of a grandfather clock keeping the room from ever being silent. The shelves across a wall filled with hardcover books. Sitting upon the offered chair centered to the desk before her. The grandness is not lost on her.

Rich. Masculine décor.

It’s the small portrait of a couple that has her stand and slowly walk to it. Her eyes glued on their gazes. It’s as if they are with her as they promised they’d be. A practiced speech written by the once patriarch of this estate. She’s heard plenty say may he and his wife rest in peace since arriving in Gotham. Their deaths politicized as she heard it on a television set being broadcasted at the lobby of her hotel.

Her hand reaches up towards them. A nervousness of being here makes her forget to regulate her emotions. The woman she is becoming lost in the moment. Those very same eyes haunt her. A constant barrage of expectations. She’s back to being that eleven-year-old that woke up screaming only the arms of these two soothing her nightmares away. Now awake. A survivor. A witness.

With an intake of breath and the rhythm of the steady grand clock has her once again taking a seat. Her eyes keeping from viewing the Wayne portrait again. Trying to find a focal point. A fountain pen in its holder. Simple and elegant. Perfect chosen distraction. Waiting diligently for the very sought out man she came to take a meeting with.

The curt butler returns with a tray. Containing a cup and with its matching saucer. He’s placing the hot beverage by the extended side table as he says a few words that explain why his master is behind schedule. Amanda doesn’t show any sign of irritation for the man in question as he is beyond forty minutes late.  

The subject of why she is here is secretive as the channels to get this meeting were done between Wayne’s butler and the chamberlain of her own uncle. Two men that run their master’s estates. There is a brief wonder. Does the elite man behind the wealth of this family have an inkling why she is here? It is not common to have gossip between two houses run by duty, history, an unyielding tradition. Chatter is left to the lower level servants. Ones who know nothing but what is asked of them.

Alfred Pennyworth glances at the still woman who thanks him after taking the offered cup of tea.

Noticing that she is not dressed as a socialite stands out. Simple. Plain. Not a feature that he normal sees here at the house. He can’t recall of another niece of the mogul living now in Wyoming a former Californian. The girl he remembers is one laid up in a coma for years until she vanished around what would be her eleventh birthday. He thinks foul play. The girl awoke and simply disappeared.

She is not unattractive. Simply just basic. Not thin nor tall like the normal women associated with his careful pressed care. Alfred knows that they’re being watched. The woman is under surveillance as keystrokes in a cave work to discover all that can be learned.

Her frank words as Alfred excuses himself to take the tray and the few contains away, “It seems an audience with me is undesirable.” Her eyes don’t waver from the focal point. She doesn’t need any more silence of words. The tick tock of the clock strong as ever. “He has made it clear; my presence is not welcomed.”

“Ms. Alexandre, allow me to show you the gardens.”

“Thank you, Alfred.” She rises from her chair making sure not to look at the few personal items that make powerful statements. “I must decline. Taking your time would be rude of me.”

She takes the leather satchel she carried into Wayne manor and slightly squeezes it. Leaving it upon the grand desk. The contents within the bag are meant for Mr. Wayne’s eyes. She was hoping to at least meet with him once before he’d deny her request. It was not meant to be.

“Thank you for your hospitality.”

Alfred nods and dutiful replies in his stoic voice as he helps her to the front door and watches her get into the awaiting car. Watching as it leaves the grounds.

It is that precise moment Bruce makes his appearance.

“Standing her up is not a gentlemen thing to do.”

“Perhaps. She’ll get over it.”

“She is said to be the niece of ailing man worth fortunes. A man who mourned the loss of your parents.” Turning to continue bringing the tray to the kitchen adds one final sentence, “Also recently losing his only child to violence.”

Bruce approaches the laid-out leather briefcase. A simple envelop placed on top. Taking it. Unfolding the few stationary sheets, he begins reading her message.

Hello Bruce,

I figured you would not meet with me personally. I get your reservation on my reappearance. Who am I really? Where have I been? Why would you even care? Why am I here? What do I want?

I want to start off by saying how sorry I am. On the loss of your parents. How truly sorry I am. It may not mean anything to you but learning of the occurrence broke my heart.

I am merely a shadow of a girl of a massacred family. Lone survivor. Disappearing to the wind and never talked about until now. Now an adult woman who will enter your home and if I leave this letter it means you have abstained from taking this meeting with me. Even if I understand. The resolve it took me to come here is lost on an empty gesture. Yet, I still write needing for you to understand just a fragment of why I am here. I mean why I came here.

If you’re wondering why I have surfaced. Now of all times. It is in some detail within this satchel.

He looks to the leather satchel laying upon his wooden desk. Only the tick tock of the grandfather clock breaking the silence of the room. He knows Alfred will not disturb him for a great while. They both share a certain drive of keeping occupied within these old walls of his ancestral home.

Like you, I have started on a journey parallel to yours. With that famous quote: A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step… I started off running. Running from the culprits who seemed to think my awaking would cause trouble. I ran and kept on running as reasons changed but my mission to find myself became a priority.

It was always just the beginning. What I do know is that I have stopped on many occasions not far from where you stood on your own voyage. That alone might be concerning to you. A stranger a continent away following similar steps like yours.

It is concerning he thinks. How would she even know about what he was doing. That would make no sense. Then he allows himself to continue to read. Maybe it will make sense somehow.

I hope you had many happy childhood memories to fall on when the days were hard growing up. I only have serene memories of my childhood. Like you before it all came crashing down. Where nightmares took their hold. I survived when my family didn’t. When I awoke from my coma. A lone witness to the faces of evil. I was alone for so long. Hidden in corners scared of the boogeyman.

He stops reading. Deciding to leave the bag here but he’d like to be more comfortable. Be able to check the computer systems of accuracies. There is a lot yet to read. He folds the simple yet elegant stationary she uses to write back into its intent indents. Holding it beside the envelop.

Passing a few quiet rooms until he reaches the family room where the grandfather clock waits for him to press the hands to have a passage slide open just behind the massive wooden structure. Climbing slowly down the steps he feels the weight of these sheets start to weigh more than the few ounces it really weighs. The woman he observed behind a screen seemed so reserved. A sadness he knows well radiating as she waits patiently for the master of this estate. To only be stood up and the woman’s facial features held no evidence of anger. She was already resigned for this outcome. This isn’t something he normally has dealt with. Anyone who has been in her situation has had a few choice words. Alfred the master of deflection promptly always leading the defeated individual off the premises. Yet, with Ms. Alexandre he offered her to a walk around the garden. The woman… he can’t yet say her first name. She declined the invitation. This letter is intriguing and holding some sappy dialogue. He remembers her enough. She and her older brother Collin. He was four years older than himself. Stopping at just shy of another five steps. Bruce exhales as a memory does permeate at how strong those emotions fill him. He had so much fun with this family.

Making his way to his chair in the cave he places the envelop on the console before sitting. Unfolding the sheets as a curiosity that is steadily developing. He needs to read more. Skimming the beginning parts that has been read but making sure to reread the last passage. She was on the run. He understands that the men who were responsible were never found and a lead into the investigation ended to another dead body. Doing the math, he finds that she was eleven when she disappeared from the medical institution that was caring for her. Making him a thirteen-year-old at that timeframe. Like she said, happy memories became living nightmares. He wants to know how she survived. A child alone in the world is no place to be. Beginning to read as he silences his mind allowing her words to speak for themselves again.

It took until I heard the from a radio on some ledge. A name I knew well from my early childhood. As much as a scared twelve-year-old could understand. I thought… I may not be so alone after all. Planning to meet up with the blue-eyed wonder. A boy of my dreams.

You left Gotham at fourteen to study abroad. You came back to England.

That is when I had my first tranquil dream. I woke up happy well as happy as a lonely child can get. As the eager me wanted to see a friendly face. It took some time. I found that academy. Looked for you. Kept from being noticed and I saw you from a distance. You were reading under a tree. I knew in my heart that was you. My nerves of introduction than faltered as I just watched. You have no idea how much of a foolish idiot I felt to be so close yet so far. That is when I heard those two boys taunting about you being an orphan. I fell to my knees to shed some tears. In my own anguish I didn’t see what happened next, but you weren’t sitting under a tree no more and I had to leave as it seems I brought unwanted attention upon myself. A few months later you transferred out.

She can’t be talking about… No. That is just nonsense. If this is true. He remembers a girl a few yards away crying into her hands. The taunting boys irrelevant because once an administrator came to the girl’s aid the boys left him with nothing but the usual taunt of being an orphan. He hated. The feeling of anger bubbling at the surface. He would have made things worse as fighting wasn’t permitted. She saved him the turmoil of getting into trouble. Her breakdown saved him and he didn’t even realize… he doesn’t know what he would have realized. Hindsight is that he’ll never know. Not until this moment. He thought she tripped and fell. He had better things to do than watch a silly girl get pampered for having two left feet. He had real pain to deal with. His reading session helped keep him out of his own mind.

He looks up records of an earlier time that connects to her. From waking up from a coma to her fifteenth birthday there is nothing. He finds that she is reunited with her uncle. Her education a priority. Records of her schooling pop up. No immediate pictures until… until she graduated medical school at nineteen.

Zooming the picture to take in her young face. She holds a smile but the smile never makes it to her eyes. She’s a doctor. He knows there is a lot more to read but he’s enchanted. Right now, he wants to see what medical field was her studies. He is surprised that she’s really focused on traumas. Saving lives in the field. This woman is becoming a pleasant enigma. Looking down to the unread sheets he picks it up again. He wants no needs more.

Since I knew I didn’t have the gumption I never tried to approach again. You seemed to prosper, and I seem to keep to the shadows.

I just lived in my dream recalling the few memories I shared with you. A time where I would gladly follow you and my brother around like some devoted puppy. That is until you pulled one of my pigtails to get a rise from me. I was around six and you were well it didn’t matter back then. I now know you are two years older. A concept a child like me wouldn’t factor in. It’s laughable as I look back at that timeframe. The young careless children we once were… I went to rebuff your actions for pulling my hair that is when you kissed me telling my younger self that I was to be your wife. Something silly that you must have overheard from one of our parents.

He huffs. Yet again. Placing the unread sheets down. His mind overactive as he can see one of those times as clear as day. Playing with Collin on the grassy hills of their estate. A beautiful English manor on top of hill. They were being followed by a bouncy pigtailed girl. She would follow them everywhere. Since learning to walk really.

He remembers a few tidbits of his parents talking about their close-knit friends in England. Telling him that Collin had a new playmate and how he was… he was jealous. Collin was his friend. They were going to visit soon and he’d have to fight for attention. Oh, that made him jealous. That is until he saw who his enemy really was. A pink little baby. A baby her mother softly placed into his two-year-old arms. He doesn’t remember much about it. He wasn’t angry or super happy for those memories to infuse deep in his mind. He just sees her as another member to the family. A happy family consisting of two loving parents with their young children.

He huffs again. How a letter can evoke emotions he has buried deep for so long? It is unbecoming though he is reveling on wanting more. He needs to see this through. He just hopes it doesn’t make him go through old trunks to find relics of his past. That would be too much. He snickers. He doubts that will happen. He’s beyond halfway through and taking a deep calming breath he continues on.

I remember a few visits to the Americas. You let me share your bunny until the last day of my family’s visit. You gave it to me. That is when I kissed you. I heard my daddy say he’d have to keep an eye on you. That was the end for me. An innocence lost. No matter how I try I can’t recall how many weeks or months from there before I became a statistic. A home invasion that made the headlines for some time. I will never recall those moments as I guess fighting for my existence was critical and I wasn’t meant to join my family in the afterlife. There are days I am jealous that they are free while I stay behind to mourn what I lost.

I wonder if you feel the same. They call that survivor’s guilt.

Yet again, he needs to stop. He has had many moments since the years of losing his parents that has made for some rough times. A sense of dread at the past he finds all these little breaks in-between reading has him cautious. The bitter sweetness of these memories. The still have a hold on him. Will always have a hold on him. He was an only child. He recalls it perfectly as they were leaving to go home. He looked at the bunny he adored. Glanced at the girl who he shared his prize with. Telling her how much this bunny meant to him. He handed it over because he saw how much it meant to her in such a short span and how she took to the stuffed animal. A nervousness in him at losing a cherished toy. He gave it to her. In a burst of happiness, she kissed him. Just a child kissing another. No harm of it. It’s the adults who mention a future.

A future he’s heard many times just from his father. That seeing her the mention of marriage was always over their heads. So much so that he may have casually called her his wife. It doesn’t help that Collin made kissy faces towards them. Childhood innocence pure and simple. Maybe if these two families continued to live on. Life would have… Life that was taken. There is no point thinking of what ifs. Only harsh reality exists. Bruce knows this well enough. He also knows by reading this letter so far. She knows.

I suppose there should be a point to this letter. To finally say why I am here and to get it over with what I’m asking for. Is that what you’ve probably been asking before even reading this letter? Memory lane is one thing but getting to the objective is what you just want.

You are probably aware of my cousin’s passing. He was a great guy. Good businessman but even better son and heck of a great cousin. Always going out of his way to connect to me. My uncle isn’t fairing well with his only child’s death. I am the only living heir now. He needs me to settle down.

I need a husband.

Oh, oh.

That’s right, what I am asking for is the sun, moon, and stars. It’s a huge request. One that I know you’d never take lightly. One I know you won’t accept.

My uncle agrees that the likelihood that my pick would not pan through. I still needed to ask. I hope you understand. Still in that satchel is my dowry. That is preemptive of what my uncle will also bring to the table.

I know it’s a lot to ask of you. To ask you to intertwine your fate with mine. If you got this far into the letter. Thank you. If not, why would it matter. I’d never know. You can rest assure you’d be free of me.

sincerely, 

        -Amanda Alexandre

He looks at the letter. Rereading about her uncle’s misfortune. Elliot was a good man indeed. They say the good die young. He is proof.

Hearing the power to the elevator he knows Alfred is on his way down. The young boy in his charge is still at prep school. Folding back the sheets of paper in a careful manner. It seems this letter is already a huge significance that isn’t something to tread lightly.

Turning to see the leather satchel in the man’s hand as he approaches.

“Sir, I though it be best to bring it down with me.”

“Alfred, I don’t know if I should open that.”

“Why not, sir?”

“It’s actually… It’s actually her dowry.”

“Master Bruce?”

“She wants marriage. Something I am not willing to even entertain.”

“I see.” Alfred still places the old leather holding what seems a dowry down before Bruce. “I should have it sent back though maybe its contents can share some light on Ms. Alexandre. She is a mystery after all.”

“I doubt that there is anything in there that will cast an interest.”

“I would believe that sir, if you weren’t holding that letter in that protective manner you seem to do with anything you consider important.”

Bruce shakes his head but looks down to how he really is holding the envelop holding the woman’s letter. Closing his eyes as if he has been caught being an indescribable child. Why does Alfred get to play him this way?

“I don’t see why she would need to show her worldly goods. The commotion of her being at her cousin’s funeral already stirred up an estimated net worth.”

Bruce flatly states, “Her being rich isn’t the problem.”

“You did stand her up. She may not be your usual taste. There could have been a spark.”

“Alfred.”

“I will not apologize for wanting more for you.” He taps the leather sack. “Are you not a little bit curious about why she would come here. Leave her finances with a practical stranger. Think you’d take a payout.”

Bruce shaking his head. He will put this subject to rest and open this bag and show Alfred that the woman is just the run of the mill socialite that wants a certain husband.

Pulling the tied buckles off and unzipping Bruce pulls out some notebooks.

“Not what I expected.”

Bruce placing a few on the console he flips through one of them and his eyes are wide. He also can take by Alfred’s intake of air that the man is surprised. Not in the wildest imagination would they ever think that this would be the conclusion. There are also some disks.

Alfred regaining his posture he looks at the younger man and clears his throat. He pulls out an invitation he carried downstairs with this leather bag. An invitation to a grand ball hosted by the man looking to see that his niece finds a mate. Bruce had no intention in going. This invitation was sent before… before she came here personally. Does her presence and the letter persuade him? If he weren’t the vigilante maybe he would entertain the idea. Now with this satchel opened to him. Not even that is an excuse he can use. She’s not just asking to marry Bruce Wayne.

“The gathering for this invitation is in three weeks. Do you want to RSVP?”

[fioress]

chicago’s very own fiore gattuso has been spotted on madison avenue driving a 2020 bentley continental gt v8 in red , welcome ! your resemblance to lorenzo zurzolo is unreal . according to tmz , you just had your twenty first birthday bash  . your chance of surviving new york is uncertain because you’re impatient , but being cunning might help you . i think being a libra explains that .  3 things that would paint  a  better picture of you would be bloodshot baby blue eyes, long drives without a specific destination, getting high by the beach. ( i have been conning money out of older women and men ever since my parents disowned me  ) & ( cismale + he/him  )

tw : abuse, homophobia

full  name : fiore emiliano luca gattuso ( first name pronounced fee-oh-reh, also see here! )

nicknames : fifi, emmy ( by people who know his middle name ), some people might say... flower boy ( fiore literally means flower in italian ) 😳

gender : cismale

height :  5 ′ 8

age : 21

birthday : october 14 , 1998

zodiac : libra  ( leo moon, aquarius ascendant )

right  handed  or  left  handed : left  handed

eye  color : baby blue

hair  color : basically dark blonde / light brown

piercing  &  tattoos : the libra symbol on his left wrist, a cartilage piercing on his right ear

languages  spoken : italian  ( native  tongue ), english, spanish, sicilian ( after many summers spent in his parents’ summer house in sicily )

sexuality : bisexual

place  of  birth : napoli, italia ( naples, italy in english )

last  3  songs  listened  to : dimmi che mi ami by dj matrix ( a full on fucking italian boy tbh ), talk is cheap by chet faker, west coast by lana del rey

character  inspo : maxxie oliver from skins u.k , adam groff from sex education ( think season 2 adam ), alyssa foley from the end of the fucking world, david rose from schitt’s creek, michael kelso from that 70′s show, a mix of nick miller & winston bishop from new girl, maeby funke from arrested development 

♡ so fiore was born to an american mother named lindsey harrison & a fully italian father named gian gattuso. his mother is a very well known politician & his father is heir of a very popular gas company, literally named gattuso gas ( yikes lol ). besides that, he is also a preacher. without saying much, his parents are very well off

♡ fiore grew up with anything he’s ever wanted ( materialistically, of course ). besides that, his parents genuinely weren’t the best of people. his mother stole millions from the so called campaigns she ran & was a generally very corrupt politician, his father treated his employees like shit & was a pretty hateful person altogether

♡ they were people who expected a lot out of their only son, which made fiore feel an insane amount of pressure from the very start. at a very young age, he showed characteristics lots of boys his age didn’t show. he did things like peeing while sitting down instead of standing up, preferred to play with dolls instead of ‘boy toys’, favored the color pink, got along better with girls, preferred to watch shows that were considered ‘girly’, etc etc. 

♡ they were very harmless things honestly, things that most parents would laugh about & turn a blind eye. however, fiore really wasn’t that lucky when it came to his parents. any time he would do anything his parents claimed a ‘normal boy wouldn’t do’, he would get a huge lecture & a beating to go with it. needless to say, he learned to hide a lot of who he really was from a very young age

♡ he did a lot of things to seek the approval of his parents. he wasn’t smart academically ( dumb boi 101 tbh ), but he tried to make them happy in other ways. fiore was never fond of sports at all, but he started playing tennis at seven years old, because it made his parents happy. truth be told, he hated tennis with every fiber of his being, but again, he did this, simply because it satisfied his parents 

♡ fiore grew up trying to be the perfect son, considering the fact his parents were very much in the public eye of everyone. it was all smiles for the pictures, but behind closed doors, he really wasn’t the happiest boy ever

♡ simply put, he has always known that he likes boys. he likes girls too, don’t get him wrong, but he knew, literally since he could remember, that he also had a thing for guys too. of course, he knew this wouldn’t settle well at all with his extremely strict & religious parents, so he buried his feelings incredibly deep 

♡ he has a lot of charm & wit & found himself getting into relationships quicker than most of his friends. he briefly dated a girl when he was fourteen, but it was when he was sixteen that things really began getting, dare i say, spicy?

♡ there was an american boy new to his very #elite school & if you guessed it, they began to date! yup, his first boyfriend at sixteen years old. fiore was basically living two lives at this point. at school, he was himself, loud & proud, but when he got home, the facade began. the way he would switch up as soon as he entered the front door to his house was honestly shockingly scary 

♡ he really felt himself falling in love with this boy even though they were both fairly young. they snuck around forever. when no one was home, he would sneak him into his room to have sex, sneak out of his house when his parents were asleep, all that fun stuff. their relationship was forbidden ( at least to fiore’s parents ). this is where it gets juicy af tho, hear me out 

♡ so one day, fiore & him get really really drunk & honestly? video record themselves having sex! 😊 they didn’t do this to post it anywhere or show anyone or anything, they really just did it for themselves. they made a few copies & kept it for themselves ( stupid boys, i know! ), but they really felt like they would get married & all that gooey lovey dovey shit so they did it because yolo i guess? this is where it gets peak #juicy

♡ so fiore & him are walking back from practice. this is a time where fiore knows no one is home & no one is coming home for a while, so when they get to his house & see his father’s car parked outside, he lowkey panics a little. of course he makes the guy leave & goes inside to see what’s going on

♡ his father asks him to come upstairs & surprisingly, leads him into his room. he says something along the lines of ‘i just want to show you this so i can hear your explanation on what the fuck this is’ & this is when fiore’s entire life practically takes a 360. his father turns on his tv & legit starts playing his sex tape with his boyfriend. just picture this though; your extremely religious & hateful father & you sitting on your bed, watching your gay sex tape with your boyfriend

♡ obviously, this news isn’t well taken by his father. to make a long story short, he gets his ass beat. like, literally almost dies type shit. when this happened, he was seventeen, almost eighteen. he knew if that was ever discovered by his parents, it wouldn’t go well, but he really didn’t think them discovering his sexuality would be that brutal

♡ his parents basically disown him at that moment. they bought him a ticket to chicago & told him they never wanna see him again. it’s sad, but he packed his things & left in two days to go live with his cousin in chicago. citizenship wasn’t a problem because he had dual citizenship due to his mother being american

♡ it doesn’t really take an expert to figure out that fiore did not take this move well at all. for months, he was really depressed. he wouldn’t go out & would just lay in bed for the longest time. he was really hurt by everything that happened & it took him a while to recover. he has also lived in italy his whole life & wasn’t really used to life in america at all, but after like the fourth month of just feeling sorry for himself, it was his cousin who snapped him back to reality

♡ slowly but surely, he began putting himself out there. his english honestly #sucked when he first got to america, but it’s gotten a lot better since then ( he still has a pretty deep italian accent though ). at first, he began working at a pizza place, but fiore slowly began to realize how much he despised working. his entire life, he received everything on a silver plater with pure golden spoons, so this? he was for sure not used to it at all. again, his life completely did a 360. he went from living in a three story mansion in the most prestigious part of rome to living in a very shitty part of chicago, broke almost always, & working a job he hated with everything he had, splitting rent with his cousin

♡ fiore did not want this at all for himself. it wasn’t until he went out clubbing ( fake id & all ), that one his friends showed him the wonders of conning people. they walked into the bar with twenty bucks and left with four thousand dollars 

♡ quickly, fiore began to learn his friends’ ways. his looks, personality & his thick italian accent helped him tremendously; it was like people literally couldn’t get enough of him. soon enough, he was conning & finessing the fuck out of older men & women for their money. he once walked into a casino with five dollars and walked out with over twelve thousand, & it was only because he stayed for like an hour only

♡ finessing people became a huge hobby of his. it was with all this money that he bought himself a luxury car & jump started his model & influencer career. it was also with this money that him & his cousin ditched chicago & moved into a much better apartment in new york. with his looks & persona, he gained followers like crazy & posted videos on youtube as well, getting sponsorships & recognition easier than he expected. he was literally living off his looks & his personality & honestly? he was here for it! 

♡ there is still a part of fiore that has a lot of issues & trauma. honestly mommy & daddy issues af, but he doesn’t talk about this at all. no one really knows how he came up or where his family is & he keeps it this way, dodging questions about his personal life as much as he can

♡ in a way, he is kind of relieved with everything that happened with his parents because now, he’s completely free to be himself & do whatever the fuck he wants, knowing very well they can’t really touch him now. of course, it still left a mark that he’s never going to be able to erase or forget ( both in his heart & on his body too ), but he feels free for once in his life & he’s honestly kind of happier now 

♡ relationship wise, he really doesn’t commit to anyone. after practically being forced to leave his now ex boyfriend at almost 18, he kind of feels like he doesn’t deserve love? it’s really fucked up but he’s genuinely convinced that no one is ever going to genuinely love him or want to be with him so he just avoids any romantic relationship of any kind, usually just hooking up with people & then leaving as soon as it’s over. the truth is that he really does want to be loved, accepted & cared for by someone he loves, accepts & cares for as well, but will it ever happen if he continues pushing people away? probably not tbh 

♡ he is a fucking drinker & hella pot smoker!! legit give him some alcohol & weed he’s happy. he always has either one on him, or both tbh 

♡ this is all that’s coming to mind rn but underneath is his bio!!

       fiore was born to lindsey and gian gattuso in naples, italy. from a very young age, he showed characteristics most boys his age didn’t show. he would pee sitting down, every time he would visit his cousins, he would rather play dolls with them instead of ‘boy toys’, favored the color pink, watched things that were considered ‘girly’, etc. of course, this never settled well with his extremely religious parents, and every time he would do something even remotely different than a ‘regular’ boy would do, he would get a huge lecture, and a beating to go with it. that being said, fiore was quick to learn to hide a lot of who he really was. he absolutely despised tennis, but he played it anyways, and he did it, simply because it made his parents happy. the gattuso’s had a ton of money, so he played tennis in nearly all of europe. he has always known that he likes boys, maybe even a little bit more than he likes girls. literally since he’s had a sense of judgement, he’s just known. of course, he kept this a secret, practically living a double life, being himself at school and someone completely different at home. it didn’t take long for him to get a boyfriend, and soon, he found himself slowly falling in love. secretly sneaking him into the house when his parents weren’t home to have quickies, holding hands with him down the school hallways, and even lying to his parents and telling them he was going going to tennis practice just to hang out with him. however, one mistake costed him, well, everything.

        they were drunk and goofing around, and decided to record themselves having sex. it was innocent and pure, both of them just making love to each other in the rawest, loveliest form. the two boys made copies of it, and fiore kept one for himself. one day, when he was trying to sneak his boyfriend into the house, he saw his dad’s car parked outside, which was odd because he was never home around that time. his boyfriend left, and he went to go investigate. his father was beyond calm, and bought him up to his room. his room. fiore was confused as his father told him to sit down on the bed, and soon, his worst nightmare became a reality. his father began playing his damn sex tape on his dvd player, and to say he was mortified was an understatement. he was humiliated, and most of all, afraid. it came without much warning, but soon, his father was throwing punches to his face, his stomach, everywhere, dragging him down the stairs just for it to continue. all he saw was blood. for the first time in forever, fiore truly felt like he had hit rock bottom. they took away his cellphone, any type of technology he had to communicate with was gone, and before he knew it, he was being shipped off to america, completely cut off by his parents.

        fiore definitely didn’t take the move so well. he was a depressed mess. he wouldn’t eat, wouldn’t sleep, and over all, just felt out of place. it took him a pretty long time, but eventually, he began adjusting. of course he was still super hurt over everything that had happened, his parents cutting him off, him being away from his now ex boyfriend, his first true love, but time luckily healed most of his pain, and soon, he found himself bettering his english, making friends, and fitting right in. at least he didn’t have to play tennis here. living with his cousin wasn’t so bad either. they constantly smoked, drank like there was no tomorrow, and he even managed to land him a job at a pizza delivery place. fiore hated this job though, but after a night our with friends, he found himself learning the art of conning and finessing older men and women. he does this like there’s no tomorrow, the money he made from all these schemes helping him jumpstart his career as an influencer and model, which bought him back to his typical luxurious lifestyle. fiore is just trying to get by, one day at a time.

extra spice:

[master-thief-gray-shadow]

Today

Summary: Ten years. Ten birthdays.

Notes: To anybody who followed me for Symphogear stuff, I must apologize but I am returning to the regularly-scheduled Bushiverse posting with a fic in honor of (second? I’m never sure) best girl’s birthday. Because Kaoru deserves good things.

Today, he is eight years old.

He’s seated at the head of the table, an elaborately decorated layer cake studded with candles placed in front of him. It’s like all of the previous birthdays he remembers. But unlike the ones in the past, where the guests were mostly family members he didn’t know he even knew, or worse, his parents’ work associates, the people in front of him are friendly, familiar. They smile expectantly at him, the light from the candles reflecting in the soft lavender eyes they all seem to share. The eyes of the girl sitting right next to him are the ones that seem to be shining the brightest, though.

“Kao-chan,” She says, leaning forward, “aren’t you going to make a wish?”

He turns to look at her, and he can’t help as a smile nearly splits his face in half.

“Y-yeah, of course,” He says as tears start to prick at his eyes. “I’ve just...I’ve never had a birthday with a friend before.” He rubs his eyes as the tears roll down his cheeks.

“Silly Kao-chan,” She laughs. “Why are you crying?”

“I’m just,” he sniffles, “I’m just so happy!” There are practically waterfalls flowing from both his eyes now. “Thank you so much Chii-chan! This is the best birthday I’ve ever had!”

He blows out the candles. He wishes that he can spend every birthday, if not with her, with friends like her who he loves.

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Today, he is nine years old.

At his insistence, today he is not seated at the head of the table. He is not seated at a table at all. Instead he is in a red velvet theater seat. She is sitting next to him, but at the moment he isn’t registering it. He is transfixed by the action on the stage.

The actors, adorned in elaborate and vibrant costumes straight out of a painting, are passionately retelling a timeless story of love and tragedy. Through staged swordfights, through song, through impassioned dances that were lit in such a way to make it seem like the two leads are the only people in the world. The male lead is so princely and handsome, but apparently he, as well as all the other characters, is played by a woman. He never knew that a woman could look like that. He never knew a woman could be a prince.

It’s the final act. The couple lies side by side, fingers interlaced, dead. Driven to their doom by a love that could never be. He has been crying for much of the runtime, but now he is almost bawling.

The curtain soon falls. There is a roar as the audience gives an ovation, and meanwhile he continues to cry. She begins tugging at his hand as they prepare to leave the theatre.

“What’s wrong, Kao-chan?” She asks as soon as her mother escorts them into the lobby. “Didn’t you like the play?”

“I did,” He says through choked sobs, “but it was so sad! Why couldn’t they be together?” He buries his face in his hands as he cries. She rubs his back reassuringly as they leave.

On the way home all he can think is that this is the best birthday he’s ever had so far.

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Today, he is ten years old.

Since she couldn’t find time to see another play this year, there is a party at his house like there normally is. Apparently her career is starting to really take off. She can’t seem to find the time for things like that any more. He doesn’t mind. He’s happy for her. As long as he gets to be by her side.

The party is going smoothly when he feels a tap on his shoulder. He turns around to see her, looking oddly serious.

“Chii-chan? What’s wrong?”

There’s a hint of sadness in her eyes. “I need to talk with you,” She says, grabbing his hand. “Alone.” She pulls him along through the crowd of people, and he is too confused to resist.

At last they are in a more isolated and quiet corner of the house. Somewhere upstairs, where nobody is likely to bother them. She gazes nervously down at her feet. This is so unlike her, he thinks. Normally she’s so confident. What does she have to say to him?

“Kao-chan,” She says, finally. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think we can hang out anymore.”

His eyes go wide as the shock of what she’s telling him hits in full force. “What? Why?”

Her eyes meet his, and they’re full of regret. “You know how I’ve been getting more roles lately, right?” He nods. “Well, soon I’m going to be doing that full time.” She looks down at her feet again. “Kao-chan, I’m sorry.”

“Chii-chan…” He steps forward and wraps her into a hug. “This is great, Chii-chan. I’m so happy for you!”

He is happy. He’s glad that she’s finally finding success doing what she loves. But at the same time she’s leaving him. He’s going to be alone again.

He tries his hardest not to cry onto her shoulder.

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Today, he is eleven years old.

For the first time in three years, she’s not with him on his birthday. Instead it’s back to the way it was before. He is seated at the head of the table, cake with candles in front of him. He is surrounded by adults he doesn’t even know. He scans the crowd.

He thinks he sees a flash of blonde hair. He blinks, and it’s gone.

He looks down at the candles and blows them out. He wishes he could see her again.

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Today, he is twelve years old.

He has not seen her in person in two years. But he has seen her on TV. Plenty of times. He watches her shows regularly, and he takes notes. He’s decided he wants to follow her down that path, to become an actor like her. Maybe that way he can see her again.

It’s the same as last year. Head of the table, cake with candles. But this year he has been trying to at least talk to some of the adults. They work with his father, after all. They know where the work is for an actor. If he gets to know them maybe he can move up.

Unfortunately, he doesn’t like the feeling he gets from a lot of them. They seem cold and unfeeling. Not friendly at all. They intimidate him.

He blows out the candles. He makes the same wish as he did last year, but this time he adds that he would like it to be on stage.

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Today, he is thirteen years old.

All day he has been told that he is going to be a man soon. Especially by his father, who seemed excited by the prospect, in his own muted and stoic way. All this talk unsettles him. He’s not sure why, it just does.

He’s doing what he did last year, talking amicably to the party guests despite their intimidating demeanor. He’s gotten better at it. He’s learned how to adopt a sort of persona, a character he can put on in day-to-day life. Apparently it’s called method acting. The character he’s chosen is that of a prince, charming and charismatic, someone who could win anyone over with a few well-spoken words. The character is a bit rough at the moment, but he’s working on it.

He is at the head of the table. The cake with candles is in front of him. Before he can blow them out his father calls everyone’s attention. Apparently he’s proposing a toast.

“To my son Kaoru,” He says, raising his glass, “who soon will be entering manhood.” All of the other guests raise their glasses and cheer. But for some reason he feels sick. His stomach is twisting itself into knots and he’s starting to wonder if he might throw up if he tries to blow the candles out. Without thinking he gets up from his seat and pushes through the crowd of people, and makes a blind dash as soon as he has the room.

He locks himself in the bathroom, breathing heavily. He slowly approaches the sink and leans over it, waiting for his breathing to steady. After a moment he looks up and catches his reflection in the mirror. Something is off about it. He leans closer.

There is a series of odd dark spots on his chin. Tiny ones, only noticeable if one were to look closely. He runs a finger over them, noting the slightly scratchy texture.

It unsettles him. He’s not sure why, it just does.

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Today, she is fourteen years old.

She has been shaving diligently ever since she figured out how. Her face is her most important asset, and any hair on it is unsightly. Her father has praised her for being so dedicated to being clean-shaven and respectable, but his praise comes from a place of misunderstanding. She isn’t shaving to be what he calls “respectable.”

The party this year had gone much the same as the last, with additional talk of how tall she had been getting. That part of puberty, at least, does not bother her. It isn’t unusual for princes to be tall, after all.

The guests have cleared out. The house is mostly empty once again. Which means that it’s a perfect opportunity to tell her parents that she had done a lot of thinking in the past year. She knows who she is now, and they should know too.

“Father, Mother,” She calls to them as they sit in the den, unwinding after the party with glasses of scotch. “I need to tell you something.”

“Do you know what high school you want to go to?” Her father says, only half looking up at her. Of course he immediately assumes it’s about her career. He can never seem to think about her in any other terms.

“Yes, but it’s not about that.” She has his attention now. He looks up at her fully. Both of her parents’ eyes are on her. “It’s a personal thing.”

“What is it Kaoru?” Her mother says. Her voice is gentle and reassuring.

She takes a deep breath and straightens her stance. She closes her eyes before opening them again.

“I don’t want to be your son anymore,” She says. Her father nearly drops the decanter.

“What?” He says as he stands up. His tone is tranquil and calm, but there is an undercurrent of rage in it that sends a shiver down her spine. “What brought this on? Why are you casting aside your family name like this?”

“N-no, that’s not what I meant.” His terrifying aura is crushing any attempts at appearing strong. Her father did not get angry often, but when he did it was nothing short of a nightmare. “I mean I want to be your daughter instead.”

“Kaoru.” His voice is so cold. “You are my son. That’s who you are.”

“I’m not!” She raises her voice in a feeble attempt to match his intensity. “I’m not a boy! I’m a girl who was born with a boy’s body!”

“Enough.” He hasn’t raised his voice at all, yet it’s booming, deafening. “You are at a certain age where you will play make-believe. I understand this.”

“But I--”

“Kaoru.” He stares her dead in the eyes. “You must understand that you are not actually a girl.”

Her legs are trembling. Her voice won’t come out no matter how hard she tries to force it. She’s been defeated. Her head hangs as she turns and leaves the room. She slinks off to her bedroom, and cries into her pillow until the small hours of the morning.

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Today, she is fifteen years old.

The cheap kotatsu she bought broke last week. She can’t afford to get it repaired, or replaced. That money goes towards rent. For now she sits at the broken kotatsu, now functionally little more than an end table, wrapped in blankets in hopes of fending off the cold. A cupcake with a single lit candle is in front of her. In a hoarse, cracking voice, she sings. She’s slightly disappointed in herself. She’s been training her singing voice so diligently lately, she should be at performance quality. But maybe it’s hard to reach that quality when one is choking back tears.

She finishes singing and blows out the candle, and wishes that she wasn’t so alone in the world. She wishes she had friends to celebrate with. She wishes she could see that girl again for real, not just on TV.

She eats the cupcake in silence. It’s the first thing she’s eaten today. She wonders what will kill her first, cold or starvation.

She wonders if anyone would even miss her.

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Today, she is sixteen years old.

One of her classmates was acting strange today. Which is saying something, since she always acts a little strange. Normally she’s almost aggressively friendly toward everyone, but today she had been uncharacteristically quiet and secretive. She spoke to others in hushed whispers, as if afraid of being overheard. But only to others. Her classmate has been conspicuously avoiding her.

She wonders if she’s done something wrong. She’s been making good progress at this school, having nearly made it through most of the school year. She doesn’t want to have to start over. Her heart sinks a little.

At least there’s the drama club. No matter what, she feels like she has a place there. She opens the clubroom door, her usual dramatic greeting on the tip of her tongue.

“SURPRISE!”

Her words freeze in her throat as she is bombarded with confetti. She can only stand in the doorway, stunned, taking in the sight of her smiling clubmates surrounded by balloons and streamers.

“Um, forgive me, but…” She struggles to find her words, still recovering from the initial shock. “What is the occasion?”

“What? You mean you forgot your own birthday?” Her eyes widen as the crowd parts to reveal her classmate. She’s grinning broadly, the usual sparkle in her bright green eyes back in full force.

“Hina?” Hina walks up to her almost expectantly. “But...how did you know?”

“Well, I’ve been learning everyone’s birthdays in 2-A so I can surprise them, but like, secretly, because it can’t be a surprise if they know, right? And that’s not boppin’ at all, right?” She jabs a thumb in the direction of the mousy-looking bespectacled girl in the corner of the room. “You hang out with Maya-chan all the time so I just asked her because I knew she’d know!”

Maya blushes. “Sorry Kaoru-san,” She says, scratching the back of her head. “She was really persuasive.”

She winces internally. Maya is a sensitive type, and Hina a forceful one. She feels a tug on her arm, as if to remind her of that fact.

“Hey, come on!” Hina drags her further into the room, toward a table with a snack spread surrounding a rich-looking chocolate cake. The cake has a series of lit candles arranged around its edges in a circle. “Blow ‘em out! Make a wish, Kaoru-kun!”

She’s been good about not crying in public lately. A few tender stage tears, something to enhance the drama of any given moment, was all she’d usually let out. But now there are real tears welling up, and it’s getting harder to hold them back.

“Ah, but before I do…” She says, internally proud of herself for being able to keep her voice steady in this moment. “Thank you, my dear little kittens, for this wonderful surprise. I shall treasure it for as long as I live!”

She would be right to treasure it, she thinks as she blows out the candles. For the first time in her life she truly feels like the party is for her.

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Today, she is seventeen years old.

The drama club’s party was once again lovely this year. She’s already eaten, but since it’s her birthday she’s decided she wants to treat herself. Perhaps that ramen place in the shopping district, with the kitsune udon she only wishes she could eat every day. She steps out past the school gate, her mind hazy with the thought of warm broth in her belly.

She is pulled from her thoughts as a limousine pulls up in front of her. The door opens, and out steps a woman in a suit and dark sunglasses.

“Seta-san,” She says cooly, “please step into the vehicle. Your presence is requested.” She gestures towards the open door.

Her heart races a little. She knows this suit, yes. She, and others, work for the leader of the band she plays for. But usually when they’re around said band leader is also present. It’s possible that she’s waiting in the car, but if she was she would probably have made her presence known by now. Regardless, it’s clear she’s being summoned somewhere, and is in no position to refuse.

“Very well,” She says, tossing her hair before stepping into the car. Despite her nerves she at least needs to appear confident. It’s what she does as an actor. Upon seating herself inside she finds two other suited women waiting for her. “Ah, where is Kokoro? I must assume she sent you.”

“Tsurumaki-san’s whereabouts are unimportant right now,” One of them says. She reaches into one of her pockets and pulls out a strip of red fabric. “Put this on,” She says as she holds it out.

“Ah,” She says as she takes the fabric into her hands. The material is soft and smooth. Velvet. “How thoughtful to get me a tie for my birthday.”

“It’s a blindfold,” The suit says. “Put it on.”

A thin layer of sweat is forming on her forehead. What is going on? She knows she can trust Kokoro, even when her whims are outrageous, as they often are, but being in the dark like this is making her stomach tie itself in knots. Regardless, she ties the blindfold around her head and feels the limousine begin to move.

The ride feels longer than it probably is. The silence of the cabin and her lack of vision means that all she can focus on is the rapid pounding of her heart. There is sweat forming on her palms. She keeps her breathing steady, having trained herself not to buckle under stage fright, but the anxiety inside her only burns hotter with each passing minute. Finally she feels the vehicle pull to a stop. There is the sound of the door opening.

“Please step out, Seta-san. We have arrived.”

She gingerly exits the vehicle, inhibited by her blindness. Upon finding the ground she places her feet flatly on it and stands. She feels a calloused hand take her own.

“Please follow me. Do not let go.”

She follows in silence. Normally she would have some kind of in-character comment prepared for any given situation, but she’s just so lost. She’s too nervous. She feels like her nerves are finally getting the better of her. Her stomach feels heavy. The suit leading her comes to a stop and lets go of her hand. A moment later the blindfold is untied and falls away.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”

Before she even has a chance to take in her surroundings she’s nearly tackled by two smaller bodies. She barely manages to keep her footing as she looks down to see two girls hugging her waist, staring up at her with huge, bright smiles.

“A-ah, Kokoro, Hagumi! My dearest little kittens!” She reaches down to pat them on their heads. “What...what a pleasant surprise to see you this evening!” The shock is making it a little hard for her to get back into character.

“Sorry about the whole blindfold thing,” Another girl says as she approaches them. Despite her tired appearance, there was a glimmer of genuine joy in her pale gray eyes. “Kokoro was really into the whole surprise thing and wanted it to be perfect.”

“Ah, it’s no trouble at all Misaki,” She says as she manages to free herself. At least not more trouble than it was worth, certainly.

“Kaoru-san!” A soft, airy voice calls from over by a long table that she has only just noticed. It’s covered in all manner of expensive looking food, and at the center is a large chocolate cake that looks oddly similar to the one the drama club got her. She wonders what the deal with that is. “We got you sachertorte, since it’s your favorite!”

“Why thank you, Kanon,” She says as she draws closer to the cake. So wait...is this what sachertorte is? Has she been eating it for her birthday this whole time? She hadn’t been expecting to learn something new today, but here she is. “And thank you, everyone.” She turns around to look at her bandmates. Tears are again welling up in her eyes, but she feels okay letting them out now.

“Kaoru?” Kokoro bounds over to her. “Kaoru what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” She looks so deeply concerned. “Aren’t you happy?”

She sniffs. “Kokoro...my dearest little kitten...I am overjoyed.” She wipes at her eyes as the tears stream down her face. “So much so that my joy cannot be contained.” Again she feels herself being embraced by several pairs of arms. “Thank you so much. All of you. This is the best birthday I have ever experienced.”

She’s not always honest about everything. The Prince is a character, after all, and not the real her. But in this moment, as she’s surrounded by her friends, she’s baring everything to them.

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Today, she is eighteen years old.

She has attended two parties today. The first held by the drama club (which was slightly somber, as this was the last time they would be celebrating her birthday) and the second by Hello, Happy World. The day has been long, and she is tired. She is home, resting. But she is not alone.

“Chisato?” She asks the smaller girl curled up at her side. “Are you asleep?”

Chisato wraps her arms tighter around her torso. “No,” She mumbles into her shoulder.

She chuckles as she gently strokes her long blonde hair. It’s just as beautiful as it was ten years ago. Perhaps moreso, as the person it’s attached to has grown into a beautiful young woman. She leans in to gently kiss the top of her head.

Time passes in silence. It’s cold outside, and a little chilly in the apartment, but the warmth of her beloved is all she needs. She wraps herself tighter around Chisato.

“Chii-chan,” She whispers. No answer. She must be asleep. She smiles softly and kisses her head again.

“Thank you for spending another birthday with me.”

[virtual-lara]

FHM - Rhona Mitra Interview

Interview appeared in the November 1997 issue of FHM magazine. Article was written up on fansite 'The Tomb Raider Archive'. VL Note: This interview is long and it is full of awful non-gaming questions with some cringey answers, but it was conducted in 1997 for a mens magazine.

Sex and videogames don't usually mix too well. Indeed, the popular view is that men who play them have such poor complexions and social skills that they've been forced to replace the pleasures of the flesh with bashing the hell out of pixellated monsters. In short, successful users of the chat-up line "I've top scored on Story Of Thor 2" are few and far between.

However, there is one exception to the rule. In November 1996, Tomb Raider appeared, featuring the adventures of Lara Croft. The premise of the game was that Lara, the daughter of an English aristocrat, had decided to forego her inheritance in favour of travelling around the world in search of ancient artefacts. As with most adventure games, this involved plenty of running, jumping, swimming and shooting. But unlike other games, its central character became the computer world's first sex symbol, and Lara Croft quickly catapulted Tomb Raider to the top of the games charts. With her ample chest and powerful thighs, Lara was created as the gamer's ultimate fantasy figure and the strategy worked.

Now, for the imminent release of the sequel, Tomb Raider 2, Lara is made flesh. And fortunately for us, it's in the form of 22-year-old actress Rhona Mitra, a woman sexy enough to equal the charms of the video character. As well as appearing in the press campaign for Tomb Raider 2, Rhona has recorded an album as Lara (produced by ex-Eurythmics guitarist Dave Stewart), from which the single, Getting Naked, is to be released next month. There is even talk of a Tomb Raider movie, for which Rhona ought to be a shoe-in for the lead role - a heady jump from her last big part, playing a teenage seductress in Jilly Cooper's The Man Who Made Husbands Jealous.

So, to celebrate the arrival of the new sexiest woman in Britain, what did we do? Take lots of fantastic pictures of her? Of course. Ask her a shed-load of questions about what it's like to play a character invented to satisfy the libido if a twenty-something programmer? Certainly. But first we took her to London's Trocadero centre to see if she could cut the mustard in the original gaming arena - an amusement arcade.

The truth is, she's pretty adept. She powers past three (male) opponents on an arm wrestling machine, gives a credible display at dynamo-hockey and is equally at ease bombing about on the virtual skate-boards. Her strongest suit, though, is the bowling range. After a slow start, three spares in a row see her powering into the lead as FHM skew another ball into the gutter.Only two consecutive(and highly suspicious) zero scores in the last two rounds barred the way to victory. And perhaps not surprising for a woman who's beaten stiff competition to play the most lusted after computer game character of all time, she doesn't accept second place for long. "I let you win, you know," she smiles triumphantly.

FHM:

Games fans are notoriously obsessive. Are you ready to be pursued by blokes thinking that you really are Lara Croft?

Rhona Mitra:

After The Man Who Made Husbands Jealous I had a lot of bizarre fan mail. I remember receiving a beautifully-typed letter from twelve boys in Exeter asking if I'd marry them all. Apparently I was supposed to be shared on some kind of weekly rota system. I was thinking, "Hmm, two a day. How am I supposed to manage that?" And I've already had people post notes on the Lara Croft website thanking me for improving their sex-lives.

FHM:

And how exactly have they done that?

Rhona Mitra:

They get their girlfriends to dress up as Lara, like I do. Apparently, it works wonders for them - maybe it's the rubber outfit.

FHM:

Do you think it's scary that there are men out there fantasising over a computer-generated character?

Rhona Mitra:

No, because men will fantasise about anything. Compared to a sheep or whatever, I think Lara's quite a healthy fantasy. What's wrong with wanting to sleep with a computer-generated character? She's got a perfect figure after all.

FHM:

Talking of perfect figures, there was a story in the tabloids about you having a breast enlargement operation performed by your dad...

Rhona Mitra:

That was rubbish. My dad is a surgeon and he does do cosmetic surgery, but he doesn't perform breast operations. I don't think he was too bothered about it, though - apparently a load of people phoned up the hospital where he works, the next day asking for tits like Rhona Mitra.

FHM:

But you have had your breasts enlarged.

Rhona Mitra:

Yes, but my dad had nothing to do with it.

FHM:

Where does the name Mitra come from?

Rhona Mitra:

It's Indian - my dad is from Calcutta. But I'm also part Irish. It's a confusing heritage. I never know if want to be running across fields with no clothes on or sitting in the pub drinking Guinness.

FHM:

The Lara Croft single is called Getting Naked. When was the last time you were naked in a public place?

Rhona Mitra:

I don't think going starkers in a public place is especially commendable. You can go to Stringfellow's for that. Although they don't get it all off there, do they? The song is really about one night stands and a woman saying that she'll go so far but not the whole hog. Why does all frolicking have to end in penetration?

FHM:

Does Lara have sex, then?

Rhona Mitra:

I should bloody well hope so. I'm sure she wouldn't be the woman she is unless she did.

FHM:

You recorded half the album sailing down the Amazon in Dave Stewert's boat. If the boat had run aground, would you have been prepared to eat him in order to survive?

Rhona Mitra:

Hmm, he hasn't really got enough fat on him...

FHM:

That beard might have been a bit tough to chew as well. Maybe you could have stuck it on your face when you'd finished eating the rest of him.

Rhona Mitra:

I would have worn the beard proudly. It's a fine feature.

FHM:

You were expelled from two boarding schools. Naughty girl, were you?

Rhona Mitra:

No, I just had a problem with complying with the rules. I went to convent school and it was totally ridiculous. We weren't even allowed to go into town at the weekend. So we used to nick holy wine from the church and drink it in the potato patch at the back of the school. I remember one time me and a few girls ended up dancing in the garden at four in the morning, wearing nothing but wellington boots.

FHM:

Is that why they kicked you out?

Rhona Mitra:

No, that was for taking a sixth former's car and driving it down to the local boys' school. I was only about fourteen. I'd left stuffing under my bedsheets but one of my friends told on me and the headmistress tracked me down. They put me in this room with bars on the windows to punish me. I was stuck in there for a whole week with just a rosary for comfort, having my dinner brought in on trays. The only time I got out was to say confession to the school priest. After that, they booted me out. Then at the next school the other girls used to blame me whenever they got caught for something, so all the parents wrote in and said they didn't want me at the school. I crammed my exams in London and did fine.

FHM:

You recently said that Lara represents the woman of the future. So what is the woman of the future going to be like?

Rhona Mitra:

She'll be more robust. In order to be strong in the mind, women are going to have to build up their bodies. Having a big arse will be alright, having a big pair of breasts will be alright, as long as they exercise as well.

FHM:

We had a discussion in the office about men of the future, and we reckon that evolution will make their heads and penises bigger.

Rhona Mitra:

Sounds good to me.

FHM:

Okay. Let's test your credentials for playing Lara Croft. To start with, when was the last time you raided a tomb?

Rhona Mitra:

Er, I haven't. I only raid my friends' wardrobes. And my dad's drinks cabinet when I was a kid.

FHM:

Would you take on a bear unarmed?

Rhona Mitra:

I'd probably try and cuddle and sweet-talk it. I've charmed men worse than bears.

FHM:

Can you handle yourself in a fight?

Rhona Mitra:

Absolutely. I had the whole Swiss army after me once. I was skiing with friends and we were getting hassled by some guys who wanted us to dance. They ended up calling us dykes and then turned nasty. I kicked one in the ribcage. It turned out that he was with a load of Swiss army guys and they chased us up the road. We ran faster than them, though.

FHM:

Some Tomb Raider websites feature a nude Lara Croft. Would you ever emulate them and do Playboy?

Rhona Mitra:

I'd never say never. But not right now. It's not even negotiable.

FHM:

What about the orgasmic noises Lara makes when she bumps into walls? Have you been perfecting those?

Rhona Mitra:

Oh yes, of course. Listen. [Makes weird orgasmic noise not unlike "Uuh!"]

FHM:

Lara spends most of her time in caves full of gun-wielding nutters. What's the most dangerous situation you've been in?

Rhona Mitra:

I got buried under sand in Tunisia. I've just shot a film there called A Kid In The Arabian Knights. We were supposed to be mocking up this sandstorm and I was buried right up past my head, but I couldn't breathe because the sand was so heavy. I had to breath through a bamboo straw for about twenty minutes. The crew were getting their cameras up and I was screaming "Hurry the fuck up, I'm dying under here."

FHM:

Did you used to play computer games when you were growing up? I remember getting hooked Jet Set Willy on the ZX Spectrum.

Rhona Mitra:

I had an Atari. I used to play that tennis game where you had two bats at either end of the screen and had to try and keep the ball in play.

FHM:

You mean Pong!

Rhona Mitra:

That's the one. But I used to do a lot of things to entertain myself. Do you remember those portable tape recorders that had flat speakers on the top? I used to put a piece of cellophane on top of the speaker and crumble biscuits on top of it. I'd then play Super Trooper by Abba at full volume and watch the crumbs jump up and down with the vibrations.

FHM:

Blimey. You were easily pleased.

Rhona Mitra:

That's not all. I loved pouring yoghurt all over my dog and watching him lick it off himself. And when my parents had dinner parties I'd chop up his dog food into chunks, put cocktail sticks in it and then walk around the living room in a sari asking if anyone wanted hors d'oeuvres.

FHM:

The guests must have loved you. Have you carried any bizarre habits or phobias into adulthood?

Rhona Mitra:

I can't sit still. That's why I'm very difficult in a relationship. Men get jealous of me travelling - they don't understand that just because I disappear on my own doesn't mean I'm going to shag someone else.

FHM:

Have you always been faithful?

Rhona Mitra:

Always. But I can appreciate why people wouldn't be. It's like ice-cream - you can really love vanilla, but you still want to try some other flavours just to make sure that you really do love vanilla best. I haven;t actually been out with that many men. I've been in two relationships which have taken up five years of my life. The second one of those recently ended and since then I've concentrated on my work.

FHM:

What kind of man do you go for?

Rhona Mitra:

I like healthy-looking guys with good, clean skin. And I like men who have brains but are still very childish. Immature guys.

FHM:

Are you actually any good at Tomb Raider?

Rhona Mitra:

Yeah. I finished it in about two weeks.

FHM:

I heard that Bruce Willis has bought the rights to the Tomb Raider movie and that Demi Moore is pencilled in to play Lara. Could you have her?

Rhona Mitra:

Oh yeah, of course.

FHM:

Be careful. After filming GI Jane, she's quite buff these days.

Rhona Mitra:

So am I. And I'm younger than her. The idea of her playing Lara is sacrilege. She has to be a posh English girl with a stiff upper lip.

FHM:

Finally, elsewhere in this issue we discuss the phenomenon of lesbianism. Have you ever been tempted by the charms of another girl?

Rhona Mitra:

Any woman who says she hasn't isn't truly a woman. Even if you don't go as far as doing something physical, you should be able to appreciate the female form. Men are beautiful too, though.

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