#my lack of self control when it comes to posting vague things

[zealctry]

I don’t have a problem with people hating Hidan.

I have a problem with people who believe he can be ‘saved’ or ‘redeemed’. even in the present, where there is some considerable amount of research conducted on indoctrination and tools are available to help people try to claw their way out of what basically amounts to brainwashing — it’s an arduous task; it can take decades. it’s incredibly hard, and not always successful.

but in the naruto world? hell, in the shinobi world - period?

good luck, you’re asking for the impossible. tragic, but true.

[deliriumsdelight7]

8, 16, 24

I answered 24, but here are the other 2! Placing under a cut for vague allusions to potentially upsetting content (sexual abuse).

8. Is there a story idea in your mental vault that you’ve never been brave enough to try writing? Is this the year? Can you tell us about it?

Yes there is. Nnnno it is not. Yes I can. This is a fic I’ve been noodling for like three years now. So, you know how OUaT has the whole “dual-timeline with lots of parallels” thing going on? This would basically be that, but both timelines taking place in the Enchanted Forest. Timeline 1: Golden Hook featuring spinner Rumpel. When Hook “kidnaps” Milah so that she can act as sexual relief for “the crew,” Rumpelstiltskin offers to take her place (thinking that a physically whole parent for Bae is better than a crippled one). Hook accepts, and Rumpelstiltskin is placed in sexual slavery. Since fighting and fleeing aren’t an option, Rumpel adopts a “fawn” response and convinces himself that he’s happy with his abuser. Timeline 2: Rumbelle with Dark One Rumpel. Takes place in the Dark Castle. Rumpelstiltskin made his deal with Belle, and she’s now his maid. Gradually, their dynamic shifts into a kinky arrangement where Belle is the dominant and Rumpel is the submissive. She recreates the things Hook did to him in a safe, caring environment so he can overcome the things done to him. Timeline 1 would progress forward in time, while timeline 2 would start from the end and work backward, until they met in the middle. Rumbelle, of course, would be endgame.

Needless to say, this fic would be very ambitious and emotionally taxing to write. I don’t think I’m at a place where I could commit to it right now. So the idea lives in my head rent-free.

16. Do you have that one fanfic that you wrote a ton for, ages ago, but never posted? Will this be the year, come hell or high water, that it WILL get finished and posted?

Not at all lol. I lack the self-control to hold onto something. When a chapter is done, I post it without even proofreading.

[sophieinwonderland]

It could be satire. They could also be someone experiencing psychosis or paranoia. Honestly I think with extreme beliefs, it’s best to not engage in the event that this is a person experiencing a mental illness. Engaging will exacerbate.

Regarding DID without trauma, research suggests a propensity towards dissociation in infants when there’s attachment issues with the mother. A mother doesn’t have to be abusive for this to happen. She could very well be trying her best, but perhaps is having her own struggles, interfering with her ability to connect with her child. And then of course there are cases where the mother is absent, maybe she died during birth or shortly after, or the child was put up for adoption. Another factor is the child’s temperament and how this lack of attachment may play into it. The first few years of life, despite not being remembered, are incredibly impactful for setting the foundation for development. There are so many studies showing evidence of the importance of secure attachment in infancy, not only in humans but other species as well.

Just want to confirm for anyone still on the fence that I'm aware of who anti-lies is, and that it's absolutely satire.

On the whole, I find the attachment theory interesting.

But... I do want to note that I have skepticism of it and may need to look further into it to see what all variables have been accounted for, since correlation doesn't always equal causation.

One thing to always remember is how shark attacks increase with ice cream sales. There's a correlation there. But neither causes the other.

In this case, maybe the issue is that there are specific types of abuse that children are more likely to endure from parents if they had poor attachment to their mother.

To be clear, I'm not opposed to this theory. Just rambling off other possibilities because these are the types of things that go through my head when data is discussed.

And I think that actually could be an interesting find in itself. "Trauma" is vague. But I wonder if there have been studies categorizing different types of trauma most experienced by DID systems in childhood, and comparing those categories to singlets with c-PTSD as controls.

"DID is most often caused by trauma" is a solid start, but what if we could go further and say "DID is most often caused by traumas X, Y and Z?"

...

Yeah, sorry, rambling again..

Hmm... thinking further... I do think the poor attachment theory makes a lot of sense. Like, people theoretically develop a unified sense of self based on observing other people. It seems to use those same mechanisms, right.

But if you aren't attached to people enough, your brain may never make the connection that "I'm supposed to be one single person."

Or...

...

When my host's mom talked about her trauma, one thing I remember is that she described feeling like she had a good dad and a bad dad. That's how she coped with what was going on. And while she's not a system, from what I know, this is a pretty common way for trauma survivors to perceive their caregivers isn't it?

So maybe that's a risk factor. If your brain is perceiving caregivers as multiple people, it learns that it's normal to be multiple? And thus, the multiplicity is emulating how the child sees their caregivers.

...

Yeah, sorry, I'm not sure where I'm going with this.

Some of these posts, I have a clear plan or point I'm making.

Others, I just spit out the first thing that comes to mind.

This post is clearly the latter.

This is just a really interesting topic to me, and I like to ramble about it.

[actual-changeling]

hi, please feel free to ignore this, i would understand if you were tired of the whole pen thing, but i have a question about her suicide fic. i read it and it was ok, nothing special, but i also see nothing wrong with it? i'm aware i might just be ignorant on the subject (i never had that problem), but i would like to understand why it is offensive and bad representation?

Hi anon! I feel like you're genuinely asking so I will answer your question, though probably not in the way you expected. Once again, discourse is tagged, everyone feel free to block it. This response might get a bit personal so keep that in mind.

I'm as tired of this topic as everyone else, but I also do not want anyone to feel left behind if that makes sense. If there is something I can help with, I want to do so (as long as I feel like the question is coming from a genuine place, if not it will be deleted without comment).

CW for discussions of triggers and mentions of suicidality.

I wish I could tell you exactly which aspects of it are the problem and why, but I have not read it and I cannot read it.

I came across one of her posts and excerpts from it completely by accident, there was no warning in front of it, no read more, nothing. My brain reads very quickly and was half-way through the post before I realized what exactly I was reading, and unfortunately that was already enough to trigger me.

I wanna reiterate for people that aren't too knowledgeable on the subject or have gotten a lot of wrong information from social media that a trigger does not just mean "it makes me uncomfortable". The reaction is connected to my trauma and experiences with the topic at hand, I was going through emotional flashbacks that left me almost hyperventilating, shaking, and unable to calm down for several hours. All because of the way she wrote about suicidality. I am not easily triggered like this, I am in therapy, I have meds, I have unhealthy self-control. The fact that it affected me the way it did speaks volumes.

So no, I cannot read her fic and I won't read it, but I do not have to. I have seen more than enough to confidently say that the way she handled this is not okay, it is not safe for people to read, she is being incredibly irresponsible in how she talks about it on her blog, and I really hope that no one who is in a tough spot comes across it and gets triggered the way I did.

If someone reads it and sees no problem with it - good for you, and I don't mean that sarcastically. But I know that there are people that will read it and get, for a lack of better words, fucked up. I asked several of my friends about it and just giving vague descriptions of what I had read was enough to make them agree that, yes, this is not how you handle this topic.

The LEAST you can do is tag it properly and with as many different warnings that apply as possible. The LEAST you can do is leave a note saying "this is in part inaccurate and triggering in x way".

But then again, the absolute bare minimum would be to listen to people when they tell you when something you write is unsafe and offensive and then not write it that way. I think we all know at this point that no matter how many different fics and people go through this exact same experiences over and over again, she does not care about her readers and she won't listen. It's sad and it's embarrassing, and once again, I really really hope no one gets seriously hurt by this.

I will add the same disclaimer I added on my other post: If you quote me just to twist my words and misinterpret what I said, I hope you are ashamed of yourself. If you need clarification just ask me, it's that simple.

[tarot-by-e11e]

Hello~

How are you doing?

Here I'm back for the feedback :

The way this reading resonated with me was outright INSANE as if you've planted webcam in my mind and even that would be less cause the specificity? NO WAY!! Just when you began to talk about the "adults" And their controlling, i gasped, because of how well you tapped in my world. Also, it's one thing to be vague but it's another to tap in vividly which just tells me how great of a reader you are and your energy as well. And THIS—I'm gonna say this, unlike the many readers in here you even go your way of above and beyond by giving us such detailed reading which somehow speaks to soul— that too in a game, is profound, truly. The examples you provided about the politics and assessors, it opened my eyes as to how I'm really letting people walk all over me, leaving me grasping over straws. This really gave me motivation as to how I should not feel let down or lonely just because few people overlook me and I'll find the right people too.

Each words of you helped me see through that indeed tools in my hand are to carve the path.

AND, I've been racking my mind since past hour to find the title but i just can't, I'm going havoc! If I do find it, I'll tell you right up! If you recognize then I'll leave some points about that manhwa— it's a zombie apocalypse comic, the protagonist turns right back to a particular point if she tries to kill herself.. (Can't spoil more.. ><) AND omg you read manhwas?! Which ones have you read so far and can you give me reccs?! I'll also give mine : "Eaternal nocturnal", "omniscient reader's viewpoint", "suitor armor", "study group".

Thank you so much for the help and yes I'll definitely look into ways to cleanse my place, a bit unnerving, but I'll do it!

The GIF which you sticked, it reminded me of your lovely cat..and i am returning you the warmest, biggest and squeezing hug I could ever muster up too, I know that I don't know and only you know how hard must it be for you to cope up with the loss, and i lack words but i hope in every lifetime you get her as your companion, and i hope you still know the fact that your cat's soul must be watching over you while being proud and cheering you on every step of way..

Thank you so VERY much for your time, energy and guidance. I hope you also thrive while being alive. Take care of your beautiful self and nurture your soul and energy! Don not overwork yourself please.

(Sending feedback again, cus I think yesterday it might not have reached you due to sudden wifi cut off... 😪)

Hi dear,

Thank you for taking the time to send me such thorough feedback again. I just didn't have enough mental bandwidth to respond properly.

I promise I don't have a webcam on you LOL~ I'm allowed to take this as an interesting way to compliment my skills, right? I absolutely love how you described how much you resonated with the reading~

When it comes to my reading, I read in a way where I know I did right by those who come to me for a reading. That's why I struggle with doing one-paragraph reading interpretations.

Ahehehe, I'm currently into webtoons, manhwas and mangas that I tend to just jump into any one of them that gets updated~ So if I'm not reading, Skip Beat, Solo Farmer in the Tower, The Brilliant Healer's New Life in the Shadows, I'm Being Raised by the Villains, Under the Oak Tree, etc. I'm definitely checking out the titles you shared~

Don't go breaking your bank or burning money just to find ways to cleanse your space okay? You can do cleansing on a budget!

Awwww thank you dear! I really appreciate it! She's actually my second fur feline baby. I tend to attract tuxedo cats and black and white calicos.

I enjoy doing readings like these; I feel more at home doing ask game readings and paid tarot readings, but I know I should start making more PAC readings. Like I mentioned in my post today, I'm contemplating on making tarot content for my birth month.

My birthday wish this year is actually to get more paid tarot reading requests so that I can finally buy my own laptop for work, a cheaper gift for myself would likely be my dream art supplies like Sennelier oil pastes, CarboThello Pastel pencils and a bunch of those high quality watercolor and mix media journal sketchbooks!

I thoroughly enjoy being a cozy homebody who makes different art pieces while sipping herbal teas. So, my wish list tends to be related to those things.

If you could take the time to wish me well, then can you wish me well in publishing my poetry book next year?

[sneakysmediacorner]

WOW i had no idea there were SO MANY dune books. the audiobook folder i downloaded only contains the first 6 books that i understand had been fully written by the original author... i don't know if i'm up to the challenge of even those first six, but i'll give book 2 a chance now that i've finished book 1. some thoughts below:

first of all, i have to make a note of how the phrase "tried to swallow in a dry throat" showed up two or three times more after my last post, lmao. i'm genuinely wondering if herbert intentionally reused it so much or if he thought it wouldn't be so noticeable.

i find it interesting how much of the novel concerns itself with emotion, supressing emotion and mastering over your instinctual/emotional impulses in order to take the "logical" course of action. the test which opens the book defines humanity as the ability to accept short-term suffering for the sake of long-term benefit, and specifically the ability to withstand pain, to master your body's instinctual reactions... and this ability is the most prominent trait of both paul and jessica, who both come across as emotionally repressed to the extreme - or maybe it would be more accurate to say they are able to repress or release their emotions at will, putting their grief off for a more convenient time. i suppose this mastery of mind over body gels with the way baron harkonnen's flesh is consistently emphasised. when alia meets him she comments on his body being growing so much it is unable to bear its own weight any longer, which in this framework would be - well, not really a mastery of body over the mind, but rather a perversion of the body's function? it goes without saying of course that this usage of fatness as shorthand for self-destructive lack of self-control is extremely fatphobic and harmful

but i suppose my biggest frustration while listening was that no theme really carried through the entirety of the narrative. this "mind vs body" dualism certainly rears its head a lot when it comes to various characters, but it's not really expanded or elaborated on enough to make any concrete statement or observation. The same can be said for the way herbert stresses the importance of envinvironment - the concept of "desert power" is obviously a crucial plotpoint, and there IS a very compelling statement being made about how underestimating groups who live in extremely difficult conditions on the basis that "they cannot have achieved anything noteworthy in these circumstances" is a foolish thing to do. the point is very well made when non-fremen groups are routinely overwhelmed by fremen technology, stategy and battle prowess, but again - this isn't really developed in the book past that initial subversion of expectations.

the treatment of fremen is a mixed bag for me in general. on one hand, they give off an air moral purity or at least nobility, with their ironclad codes of honour and the claim that rape supposedly isn't a thing in their society?? (i'm not sure how much the reader is intended to take this at face value and how much it's just supposed to be stilgar making a vague statement to ease jessica's mind). but on the other hand, they're shown to be violent and proud beyond reason, and it takes paul's rousing speech to make them give up on an ancient custom that would be incredibly pointless and self-injurious in the given situation. i wonder if this was meant to show the fremen in a balanced way, as a society with its own faults and benefits, but to me at least, it lacks depth and just comes across as two different stereotypes at once*. i think i would have been more convinced if we got to know any individual fremen more extensively and got a feel for how they think, why they act the way they do. none of the fremen characters really get much of an internal life - if i remember correctly, the most we get is a brief look into chani's POV.

this is a complaint i have with most of the characters though, even paul and jessica, whose inner lives are explored the most. those two are simply so logic-driven that their choices reveal very little about who they are as individual people. paul especially is an odd main character. so much of his person seems to be meant as a look into how a long-foretold messiah would function on the personal level, but he is so focused on his goals that, really, he isn't much more than the messiah mask. the pretty huge timeskip in the middle of the narrative doesn't help - he falls in love, has a child and rises to fame and power off-screen, when those experiences, had they been shown on paper instead of told in retrospect, could have been a much-needed glimpse into the emotional, human side of him. his love for chani feels particularly unconvincing, given that it seems to be founded entirely in visions of the future where they are together.

one more thing about the emotionless, perfect beni gesserit logic that drives paul and jessica - it's that well-known writer's dilemma having to convince your audience that a character is very, very, very very smart. this intelligence (in all the smart characters, not just paul and jessica) often manifests itself in a character picking up on the subtle implications of another's speech. i'm not just talking about the intonation and inflection of voice - here, herbert has an easy time because it's very easy to just write that someone's voice betrayed hesitation only to the finely trained ear - but of characters picking up on each others' phrasing, omission, the inclusion or lack of titles, formalities and so on. this is a bit more tricky - the readers are given the same information as the characters, so we the readers are able to directly judge the accuracy of the characters' judgements. i do think herbert does a good job of writing these subtle dialogues and actually including these hints of meaning, but i can't say it was totally convincing a hundred percent of the time. there were definitely conversations where i ended up thinking jessica or paul or whoever was making a huge reach in reading into the way something was phrased.

i'm very intrigued by the scene herbert chooses to end book one with - that of jessica affirming her and chani's importance despite their official titles as concubines. this was always a prominent part of jessica's character, but it didn't feature much outside of her private thoughts - but the choice to end on it implies that it's an important theme. i have to say though, i can't really see how it would connect to the story at large. but i am intrigued.

i also love the writing by princess irulon beginnning every chapter. a few chapters in and you realise that this woman must have written dozens of books at least - it feels like she must have written a book about muad'dib for every stage of education! it serves to build up the anticipation with regards to paul's growing legend of course, but it also makes you curious about this princess who doesn't show up until well towards the end of the book - only to find out that this prolific outpouring of writing stems from her being privately abandoned by paul. another big point in favour of the final scene.

all in all, i think the worldbuilding of arrakis and the way it's slowly revealed - the worm riders, the fremen plan to change their planet and the social customs resulting from water scarcity - is dune's strongest suit, though the epic political conflict is also pretty interesting. i'm compelled in principle by the story of paul the muad'dib, by his rise to power and by the tension between his identity as an individual and his ever-expanding legend, but this plot thread doesn't really deliver on its own premise.

*this isn't even getting into the loaded way herbert uses arabic or vaguely arabic or arabic-adjacent phrases and aesthetics. the use of "jihad" rings as particularly problematic in light of how american and world politics developed decades after herbert's death

[hermajestyimher]

I’m tired of people talking about relationships. I’m tired of beautiful, smart, talented girls let their youth and brain go to waste because they’re thinking of men. I’m tired of my family asking me and telling me to get a boyfriend, even when they’re all miserable in their marriages. Why are they mad I’m an attractive, capable woman who chooses to stay single because my time is valuable?

Men will literally have sex with a warm cantaloupe. It’s not hard getting/keeping/staying with a man. It’s hard to work on yourself. It’s hard to stay single. It’s hard to be celibate and see your value. Today’s society is so backwards - having sex or relationships is ok, but more often than not I feel like it holds back the girlies rather than men. It’s sad.

I want to respect other women’s choices, but some of y’all are letting bald, broke men disrespect y’all. It’s time to elevate ladies. Choosing to be single and withhold pussy is the feminist choice.

I'm just as tired luv. When I started posting here I did it to build a community of women and fem people who wanted better for themselves, to constantly grow and improve as people because for too long our society has been run and controlled by a single demographic and the power imbalance has generated a lot of issues for us.

Instead of finding empowerment in things that have real value in this world such as education, wealth, and a rewarding career/life path, many women would rather spend their time chasing after the most mediocre men they could find, being desperate for an inch of their validation, and now day-dreaming in delusional ways about being dependent on men because work would equal "being in their masculine energy", and going as far as to speak down on the women of the 20th century that marched and fought for the equal rights and opportunities we enjoy today (and continue to fight for).

Seeing how the overachiever woman that can have it all archetype has been tainted by these useful idiots in lieu of these impossible-to-define vague concepts of "feminity" and "feminine energy" has been extremely frustrating. These are the same people that get angry when legislation that affects women is passed, but they don't stop for a second to think about how real change in made to improve our lives as a collective. In their desperation of becoming housewives to live a "soft life", they don't stop to think for a second that we can only attain gains in society by getting an education and reaching high positions of power in different industries. They would rather fall for the trap that right-wingers and religious bigots have set for them to have them dumb, powerless, and dependent on the same people that view them as lesser-than and that constantly abuse us.

Likewise, many women still look down on those of us that ask them to raise their standards when it comes to dating. Pick mes are not as rare as many may think. They see no problem with giving men perks and easy access to them without any sort of commitment. We have glorified baby-mamma culture which is a direct result of hook-up culture. And when some of us speak out against it, they paint us as the "misogynistic" ones. Absolute madness.

Honestly, you cannot help someone that doesn't want to be helped. A lot of these women are going to have to learn the hard way through life that making dumb decisions out of laziness, instant gratification, no self-esteem and lack of critical thinking will pay off in bad ways in the long run, and they will have nobody but themselves to blame for it.

[miraculouscontent]

It’s heeeeere! Another summasalt, this time with nearly twice the length of the first one!

(Turns out that not having caffeine doesn’t help me talk any slower.)

Script below:

Anonymous asked:

Thoughts on Rocketear?

Can you Rocketear the newest episode apart with your salt, my beloved Salt Queen?

Penny for your thoughts on Rocketear?

Aw, anon! You can have that for free! I'm a generous goddess.

"Rocketear" begins with Chat Noir and Carapace - just Carapace, really - holding back a pack of what I presume to be the physical manifestation of the writing staff's age, or at least a representation of how behind the times the writing seems.

Just as the dinosaurs break through Shellter. Ladybug shows up with the scientist who revived the dinosaurs in the first place and said scientist uses a whistle to calm the dinosaurs down. There's also a line from Bob Roth about putting the dinosaurs in a theme park to make money and I know what it's referencing but it's so incredibly random that it doesn't really come off as a proper joke.

Carapace was notably sad right after battle, but insisted that he was fine when Ladybug asked. Rena, sporting a... - I would like to say "new design" but it's a recolor in every sense of the word - is hiding behind part of a building and smiles after the heroes before walking off. Ladybug takes Nino's miraculous back but sees that he's still upset and asks him again what's wrong. Nino asks where Alya was and Ladybug claims that she only needed Carapace for the job, which cheers him up but only until Ladybug is already gone.

Mm, I guess Nino and Adrien relate in heroism not being enough for them unless they have their respective love interest to flirt with.

Also, I know this is an obvious set-up, but the show can't tell me that Ladybug just always brought Nino and Alya whenever she needed one of them. Season 3 required her to go to Master Fu to get the miraculouses, and unless she already knew that Nino and Alya would be in the same location - which, okay, the show does basically shove the two of them together whenever Nino is onscreen, fair, if two characters are in a relationship in this show then it's weird for them to NOT be with that person - but it just seems like a gamble, not to mention proof to Shadow Moth that the two are close if Ladybug constantly brings both of them.

Anyway, Ladybug goes into the sewer and asks Rena if she's seen any sign of Shadow Moth or his traps. Rena didn't see anything and they de-transform. Marinette is about to leave when she thinks of something, but Alya assumes it's about her new look, which was apparently not voluntary on her part and the suit automatically adapted to Alya's new role as Rena Furtive, which she has now named it as.

Marinette reminds her that this is supposed to be a secret and that they agreed that the fox has no owner. When Alya is evasive about whether she told Nino that she won't be Rena anymore, Marinette stresses that everyone needs to believe that Alya won't be using a miraculous anymore so that she can remain an undercover spy.

What's the point in changing the look if you're not going to show yourself anyway? I mean, insurance, I guess, but still.

Alya, exasperated, parrots what Marinette has apparently told her before: that she helps Ladybug with Mirage in case Shadow Moth tries to follow her so Rena can follow him instead. Marinette stresses the situation again and Alya tries to get Marinette to agree on her telling Nino that she's Rena Furtive, but Marinette refuses.

At Marinette's house, Alya talks further and explains that she doesn't know if she can lie to Nino since they don't keep any secrets--Alya, babe, you kept Rena Rouge from him and didn't tell him that you knew he was Carapace until Ladybug was forced to give you your miraculouses at the same time. I don't wanna hear it.

Marinette states that it's too late for that and also not technically a lie, but Alya gets upset and says that Nino will never trust her again if he finds out that she kept something from him. Marinette brings up how she had to keep secrets from Alya too, but they're interrupted by Tom appearing and wanting to play games with them. Marinette makes an excuse about homework that she's repeated many times, as Tom comments that the teachers give her too much. After Tom is kicked out - hang on, lemme just... - Marinette uses the moment to show Alya that she's lied to her family a lot and hasn't played games with her father in months. She states that there's no other option as they have to protect their identities, and Alya agrees to talk to Nino.

In Alya's room - I just presume at this point that Nino's house doesn't exist and Chris is an illusion - Alya tells Nino that they need to talk, but stammers and states that it's hard to talk about. Nino thinks that she wants to break up with him, but Alya assures that she loves him. She finally gets to the cover story that Rena herself made up in "Sentibubbler" and Nino understands, sad that she won't be around anymore but agreeing if it's what Ladybug thinks is best.

Is it weird that Nino respects Ladybug's wishes more than Alya does?

Nino hugs her and is confused by why Alya was nervous to tell him, as she can tell him anything and nothing will change their relationship. Alya feels guilty and hugs back, murmuring about how they don't have any secrets; that's not what Nino said, but sure, push this plot to its already predictable conclusion. I mean, I thought it was vaguely sweet that Nino switched to seriousness immediately when Alya said that she wanted to talk, but how am I supposed to be invested in this couple when their dynamic boils down to "STRONG, INDEPENDANT WOMAN who wears the pants in the relationship because her boyfriend is portrayed as a wimpy coward"? Like, the show constantly dragged Nino down to make Alya look "powerful" by comparison, and then when it comes to characters like Marinette, we get a girl who works very well outside of her relationship with her endgame love interest.

It's the fakest form of "girl power," dragging guys down to raise girls up or actually making a strong girl character but having her love interest be a weakness that creates flaws in her that weren't there originally and having that love interest be who she's "destined for."

I'm rambling, sorry.

In class, Marinette assures Alya that she did the right thing and Alya agrees. As they're leaving school, Marinette talks about how their "night walks" start soon, and Alya non-subtly talks about how Rena Furtive will be on the lookout while Ladybug and Chat Noir patrol. She stops, however, as gets excited about some pictures she took of herself as Rena Furtive, which has a lot of details that Marinette hasn't seen. I don't know whether to groan at what I just heard or remind everyone that Rena Furtive is literally just a recolor and therefore this is the writers patting themselves on the back for this design, so let's just move on.

Alya then shows Marinette her phone--AUGH, MY EYES--and suggests making a poll on her Ladyblog so people can vote for their favorite Rena design. Marinette has to stress again that Rena Furtive is supposed to be a spy and thus invisible, which Alya admits that she forgot about.

Okay, I've been holding off on talking about this, but now seems like the best time to bring it up. Alya has been a trash friend as well as a trash confidant, and her role as Rena Rouge boiled down to, "it was convenient for her to be the fox at the time it was needed." She's not particularly stealthy like one would expect of a fox, and she was easily one of the worst candidates to be told Marinette's big secret. I'll get more into this later, but I have to stress that Alya has treated Marinette no differently since learning of Marinette's identity and has already gone against Marinette's orders once before at the time of this episode airing. Episodes are constantly torn between validating their decision to have Marinette tell Alya, having Marinette be worried about the decision while the show considers her to be ridiculous for it, and then having Alya either consider or make choices that clearly don't gel well with what's good for her role. Much like Marinette, she lacks a sense of self-control and--wow, a female character who's impulsive, never seen that stereotype before.

Point being, "Sentibubbler" stressed over and over that Alya was the right choice and deserved to be both the permanent fox and the understudy for guardian, but then we have "Rocketear" here where Alya is making basic emotionally-driven errors that I'm not even remotely sympathetic to when Marinette has gone through so much worse over the course of three+ seasons.

*sigh*

Alya laments that it's hard to find new content for the Ladyblog - ah, yes, tell me more about your struggles, Alya - but figures that at least she can post stuff about Chat Noir instead of--I don't know--making fake Ladybug theories to lead people off Marinette's trail. Marinette says that it's a great idea, though Alya still doesn't look too happy. The scene then rewinds to a little bit to show a different point of view, this time with Adrien and Nino. Wait, this feels familiar, wasn't there another episode that did something like--ohhhh no, this is going to hurt.

After saying good-bye to Adrien - something I wish I could do every time he's mentioned or on-screen - Nino catches the bit of conversation where Alya talks about the Ladyblog. Nino talks as if Marinette isn't there and asks Alya out to the movies because Marinette is chopped liver and this is about Alya and how sad she is, guys.

Wow, she's turning into Adrien faster and faster.

Alya hesitates, but Marinette assures her that there's still time. Alya excitedly runs off with Nino and they watch what I presume are previews given the narrator, featuring recycled footage from the Ladybug PV. Nino is upset because Rena is mentioned but not Carapace, and the preview features Rena telling Chat Noir to forget Ladybug because it's Chat and Rena herself who are trulu made for each other.

I don't know what's funnier; the complete lack of self-awareness or the suggestion that a biracial couple would exist in this show outside of a special that gives them maybe a minute of screentime and acts more like suggestive canon anyway. I think I might've been too generous with that line about dinosaurs.

Nino is offended by the preview and Alya brushes off his comments, stating that it's just a cartoon and it's made to entertain people, though Nino himself is certainly not entertained. Can't say I entirely blame him considering that Alya doesn't really try to say anything substantial or even agree with him. No cuddling or reassuring kisses, she just gets slightly sad and turns to her phone for a bit.

After the movie, Nino is cheered back up again until he catches Alya on her phone once more. He offers to take her home, but she's distracted, and he comments that what she showed to Marinette looked pretty nice; I don't know because they didn't show it. Nino asks what it was and Alya evades the question, stating that her battery is running out. Nino is suspicious, but spots Andre's ice cream cart and the two head over there. Andre calls them his favorite couple and asks what they want, but Alya sees Ladybug gesturing for her and has to run off, giving Nino a cheek kiss as she goes which feels like too little too late at this point.

Nino catches some conveniently-placed kids arguing over who Chat Noir loves, but they settle on the fact that girls in general love Chat Noir. Nino is then seen at the Seine watching the Ladyblog's latest video, where Alya is talking up how amazing Chat Noir is. I hate to stop every five seconds to complain - okay, actually I don't - but I presume this video must've been made after the movie since Nino seems like the type who would actively follow his girlfriend's blog, yet not only is this video perfectly set up to echo the kids and the movie preview, but Alya - despite apparently caring about her boyfriend soooo much that she kept trying to convince Marinette to bend the rules - didn't even try to warn Nino or text him so he doesn't take it too seriously. It's like "Sentibubbler" with the conflicting messages about identity rules; Alya cares about her boyfriend but both isn't thinking about how he'll take the things she says and apparently doesn't know him well enough to realize that he wouldn't be mad over her keeping a secret that she was told to keep. I already talked about how they play up Nino to be the emotionally weaker one of the relationship, but then they don't have Alya try to cover or make up for that. She's been acting very much not like Alya - you know, the one who in "Sapotis" practically bragged about how great she'd be at covering for Ladybug - with her stutters and weak excuses, so I can't completely blame Nino for being upset after everything that's happened when he sees the writers projecting onto Alya as she talks about how Chat Noir is brave and funny and cute and showing all these images of him as well. I don't agree with all of his actions, but--oh yeah, speaking of which--

Nino calls Adrien and is talking to him about how Alya must be in love with someone else. Adrien dismisses the idea, as Alya and Nino are together basically all the time, and asks who she could possibly be in love with. When Nino suggests that it's Chat Noir, Adrien laughs and jokes about it being Fang instead. Nino points out the video but Adrien did see it but is overall unphased and convinced that it means nothing. Nino says that he'll find proof and hangs up, but Adrien is certain he'll find nothing. Plagg comments that Nino will find someone because Plagg's charisma has definitely contaminated Adrien.

Ugh.

Adrien expresses concern that he put on the cat's charm too much and accidentally made Alya fall for him, and decides to visit Alya as Chat Noir to be sure.

Meanwhile, we get a reference to film noirs as Nino narrates. That's the second blatant reference this episode and now I feel like they wrote this script while doing a movie marathon.

Chat Noir arrives at Alya's house and Trixx hides before Alya opens the curtains to reveal her surprise guest. Nino is nearby watching the scene with his phone as Alya wonders aloud if something's wrong. Chat assures that everything's fine, but brings up the video she posted. He insists that it made him happy, but points out that she's been following him and Ladybug since the beginning and that they know each other much better due to everything that's happened. He has some conveniently-worded dialog as he starts to say that he hopes something's just an illusion and Alya gets worried that he's about to bring up Rena. Chat continues and clarifies that he wonders if she started to feel something for him, though adds that he understands because just look at him.

UGGGGH.

Chat clarifies by making a heart with his hands, which Nino sees. Alya laughs at this gesture and states that she has a boyfriend, doing the same heart gesture and suggesting that her love for Nino is even more than that. Chat Noir apologizes - hm, I didn't know he had the capacity to do that - and hugs Alya, saying that he was just confused.

An absolutely unnecessary hug for two people who, at least in terms of their current selves, have had very little screentime together, but this is also the show where making eye contact basically means your friends and it's all just to push the plot along so Nino inteprets that Alya is in love with Chat Noir, so whatever I guess.

Alya states that Nino is far more irresistable than Chat, then adds that she doesn't even know his secret identity, and she'd never fall in love with someone she doesn't know. Nino then runs away upset and the scene cuts away to the next day where--

Wait, wait, wait, hang on a second. Two things right off the bat there.

First off, we're just gonna sidle past that "wouldn't fall in love with someone you don't know the identity of" while ignoring the existence of the love square? Not even Chat thinking about how he doesn't know Ladybug's identity and trying to excuse that he doesn't have to? This guy is that certain of their relationship?

Secondly, Nino is practically sobbing and Shadow Moth doesn't take this as his opportunity? Same guy who akumatized Mr. Pigeon 72 times and has akumatized Gigantitan more than once? What is this pacing???

But--alright, so Adrien comes into school and sees Nino, still dressed up in his detective gear, which gets ignored completely as Adrien goes to tell him about Chat Noir and Alya. Because the show doesn't know how Adrien would convey this within reason, Nino interrupts him, taking him down into the lower part of the school where he has a desk and chairs set up. Adrien goes to ask when Nino had time to do this, but Nino slams his hand on the desk to cut him off. Nino presents the evidence he took and they go back and forth, likewise with Adrien turning off the background music while Nino turns it back on. Adrien insists that it's a misunderstanding, but pleads innocent when Nino asks how he knows. Adrien states that Alya is just a superhero fan and that she and Chat Noir have nothing in common.

Again, the complete lack of self-awareness is astonishing.

Adrien repeats what Alya said about secret identities and how she wouldn't fall for someone she doesn't know - they're really ignoring this, aren't they? - and continues hitting Nino's soft spots about how unlikely it is until Nino decides to tell Adrien something he's not supposed to.

He tells Adrien, not only that Alya is Rena Rouge, but that he's Carapace. Adrien goes through a range of emotions beyond sAD for once, shocked at the fact that they know each other's identities. Nino states that they don't keep secrets from each other, except now Alya is with Chat Noir. Adrien still doesn't understand and brings up how secret identities have to be protected, or else Nino wouldn't have told him because Ladybug wouldn't agree to it.

Oh, here we go. So that's why they waited.

Nino states that it was Ladybug herself who gave them their miraculouses at the same time; not giving the reason why, of course, nor pointing out that they're temporary heroes so there's understandably some leeway. Adrien is having a moment, but manages to bring the subject back to Alya and Chat Noir, who he still doesn't think are a thing. Nino argues that it's because Adrien doesn't know Chat Noir, but he does because he's Carapace and knows how Chat Noir acts. He says that it's all flowers and confessions when Ladybug appears, but he gets rejected because Ladybug thinks that he's annoying, and she's right. He adds that Chat flirts with Rena Rouge and that's all that needs to happen, with Chat stepping in on the first mission Carapace lost in. Nino laments the loss of the love of his life and wishes to shut Chat Noir up forever; we all do, Nino, we all do. Shadow Moth finally steps in with - oh, less than eight minutes left in the episode, yikes - and Nino is akumatized into Rocketear.

Rocketear rejects Adrien's pleas to stop, insisting that Chat Noir is who he's after, not Adrien, and Adrien transforms in sad fashion despite Plagg's reminder of who Rocketear is after. Alya, meanwhile, is in the art club with Marinette - wait, since when was Alya in the art club - telling Marinette about how Chat Noir thought she was into him due to the video, which Marinette groans at. There's an earthquake and they peek outside to see Rocketear firing his tears at Chat Noir, shouting that he stole Alya from him. Chat Noir tries to tell him otherwise, but Rocketear won't listen.

Alya groans at Nino doing this, then she and Marinette set off to find a place to transform. They conveniently go to the same place Adrien and Nino were, so they see the desk that Nino had set up.

Genuine question, how seriously does this episode want me to take itself, because now when I recount all the unnecessary love square drama in my head - because you know that's where this is going - I'm going to have to think, "Nino, dressed in a detective outfit, ripped off his fake mustache and told Adrien both his and Rena's identities, and also that Ladybug was totally cool with it and thinks that Chat Noir is annoying."

Gettin' two completely different vibes here. The episode clearly wants to be important but it doesn't take itself seriously either, which it totally could while including enough jokes to keep things light. Instead, I'm just left scratching my head and wondering what tone they're going for.

Marinette finds Nino's phone on the desk - I'm calling continuity error on that one because he at no point put it on the desk, at least not on-screen - and she questions Alya on the video she sees. Alya insists that nothing happened, apparently completely unphased by her boyfriend having spied on her, and says that he wouldn't have misunderstood if he'd heard the actual conversation.

The two transform and Ladybug immediately uses Lucky Charm, receiving a projector. Ladybug is clueless and Rena Furtive suggests creating an imaginary movie like Nino. Ladybug gets an idea, remembering Alya's earlier comments, and Rena confirms that she remembers every word of it.

Aaaaand, just like that, all of the tension has been completely sucked away. You know, "Backwarder" was a trash episode, but at least when Ladybug was showing every step of her plan, she didn't tell us what it was.

Meanwhile, Rocketear and Chat Noir are still arguing--I started zoning out at hearing the same thing over and over again at this point, so I just presume they were fighting over who does stuff behind their love interest's backs better; I don't think they came to an agreement but they're both losers anyway.

Chat Noir says that he'll prove his innocence, tossing his baton aside to show him giving up, but Rocketear points out that it proves nothing and strikes Chat Noir with his tears.

Our endgame love interest, everyone. Straight As yet about as smart as a sack of bricks, and that at least won't flirt with anyone non-consensually.

Chat Noir makes a point that he doesn't want to hurt Rocketear, and Shadow Moth tells Rocketear to take his miraculous before finishing him. Chat Noir can only weakly tell him not to before Ladybug snags Rocketear's wrist and diverts the shot. Ladybug explains to Rocketear about the projector and how it'll let him hear the audio of the recording he took. She adds that she doesn't know what Chat said, but she trusts him.

Marinette, I'm sorry, I feel so bad for you.

Ladybug turns on the projector and Rocketear relaxes at actually hearing what was going on. Rena then de-transforms and hurries out to meet with Rocketear, hugging him as Rocketear apologizes for doubting her. Alya also kinda sorta apologizes in a way I don't understand and Rocketear then breaks his akumatization, very casually, all on his own.

Yeah, just--casually, in a matter of seconds in fact. You know, it's really sad when people resisting akumatizations are more tense and emotionally compelling than them breaking them. This is twice in one season now and has zero impact considering that Nino's reason for being akumatized was already taken care of so he had no reason to stay akumatized anyway. Him breaking his own object to release the akuma would've at least been different, but instead it's just a repeat of what Alya went through with even less tension considering that Alya's wasn't even that good in the first place, relying on her relationship to Ladybug rather than who she knew to be her best friend.

Moving on, Ladybug captures the akuma and uses Miraculous Ladybug to bring everything back to normal. Shadow Moth monologues about how love and secrets don't go well together and he's sure that she has a lot and I'll talk about this later.

Ladybug hands over the magical charm, which Nino takes but insists that he won't need it, as he'll never let Shadow Moth use his love to manipulate him again. Plenty of other things to get akumatized over, but they gave the supposedly ace character a robot to help him stick out and also gave the supposedly aro character a miraculous back in season one to give her more importance. If characters aren't in love then they need something to ceompensate for it.

Nino apologizes to Chat Noir for being wrong and Chat Noir assures him that everyone has doubts, even him. He gets sad and Ladybug asks him what's wrong, but he insists that he's fine - officially throwing away his right to be upset at her later as far as I'm concerned - and they do their usual fist buuuuu--

...Really?

Everyone then splits up and Chat Noir sulks by himself instead of--you know, talking to Ladybug, or asking her anything, or making any sort of excuse for her because that would mean he actually has faith in her and understands that their partnership is different from temporary heroes, even if the excuse was as basic as her wanting to protect him more than the others because he would be that egotistical if they didn't want to stretch out this unnecessary drama.

Later on, Adrien is staring at a picture on the Ladyblog that might be a metaphor for the show considering how "in the foreground" Chat Noir and Rena are.

Adrien vents about Ladybug giving miraculouses to Alya and Nino, but Plagg states that she's the guardian. Adrien clarifies that he's referring to Alya and Nino knowing each other's identities, but Plagg doesn't see the issue. Adrien gets huffy and asks why the rule exists for LadyNoir but not Ninya, but Plagg again points out that she's the guardian, so she makes the rules, though obviously he uses cheese metaphors to convey it.

Okay, Plagg is only, like--half-right because he doesn't have all the information. If you don't mind me rambling for a bit, I'm on the fence here because, on one hand--yes, I agree that Marinette should be allowed to make her own rules, and I often do that in my writing because I think she should be permitted leeway in order to let herself be happy, but on the other hand, it's not technically her rule, as she had to let Alya and Nino in on their identities back in the Season 2 finale, so Fu was still around for a season. She wasn't even guardian yet!

Now, presumably so the fandom could blame Marinette if anything happened, Marinette never discussed this with Fu on-screen, so I can't say whether or not Fu knew, but I feel like he must've since Marinette had to have told him the heroes' identities off-screen, given "Party Crasher," and thus I imagine that Marinette would tell Fu everything that happened, which is consistent with what she does on-screen even if she'd keep things from him for a little while.

"Furious Fu" had also established that not even Master Fu followed rules completely, meaning that Marinette is in this awkward spot of mostly following what Fu taught her, which aren't all guardian rules anyway, and having to break the rules on occasion for various purposes. I can't say what Fu approved of and what he didn't, because episodes spend so much time on the love square that they forget about Marinette as a person and how she interacts with everyone else. From an emotional standpoint, I can't blame Marinette for not revoking the miraculouses of people whose identities get discovered because of her, as I imagine she feels guilty and it probably doesn't seem fair to force them into another miraculous or have them be entirely without one because of a mistake that she made, meaning that someone needs to be throwing a lot of red flags for Marinette to be through with them.

Though obviously, from the show's standpoint, it's just an excuse to not make new models, but I complained about that enough in "Sentibubbler" and this episode even went out of its way to design a detective model for Nino while spraypainting Alya's bodysuit in the same breath, so this is the world we live in.

Anyway, Marinette is essentially in this position where she still has Fu's rules hovering over her, but she's also trying to step out on her own and make her own decisions to varying degrees of success or failure depending on your point of view. Tikki--wait, no, bad idea--Su-Han then, could easily give input on these things, perhaps with Marinette discussing a modern day set of rules for someone her age and going back and forth with Su-Han on what the right choices to make are, finding something that's comfortable but within a realm of predictable control. Su-Han was okay with some rules being broken after seeing how Ladybug handled them and they could've easily made this episode about that instead, but instead, we get rules being set and then being broken on a writer's whim.

Which now brings us to the end of the episode, where Marinette is on the phone with Alya and apologizes for causing trouble between her and Nino. Alya tells her not to worry and she'll fix things - you know, those things that, to Marinette's knowledge, have already been fixed - and asks if Marinette trusts her. Marinette does, and Alya hangs up in order to face Nino.

Yeah, that feeling of dread in your stomach? That means you know how predictable the writing is and what's about to happen, good for you.

Alya explains that she has to tell Nino something and he's worried, this time trying to sheepishly break the tension. She explains that she's still Rena Rouge, much to Nino's shock, and adds that she's in hiding, which is why Ladybug didn't want her to tell anyone. Nino asks why she's telling him if she's not supposed to tell anyone - proving my point from a while back that he wouldn't have been upset had she kept it a secret - then asks if Ladybug agreed with it.

I want to give him a pat on the back for considering Ladybug, but he didn't even tell her when he had the chance that Adrien knows his identity now, so I'm just beaten down at this point.

Instead of answering the question directly, Alya says that she can't hide her identity from him because she loves him and they don't have secrets.

You know, like Nino telling Adrien about Rena's identity, or Alya saying specifically that she's a permanent holder, which I'm sure both of them will confess to since they said that they don't have--aaaaand the episode ends on happy triumphant music, okay.

I mean, I guess Alya at least didn't tell him that Marinette was Ladybug, but that is such a low bar and not even remotely worthy of congratulations when Alya told Nino the specific thing that Marinette told Alya not to tell; the thing that they had agreed on.

Nino wasn't upset anymore. He won't be getting akumatized either. Alya endured the supposed hardship of being a permanent fox holder for four episodes before breaking down and telling her boyfriend. Even her excuse doesn't hold any water because, again, they're both still technically keeping a secret, particularly Alya who knows Marinette's identity as Ladybug. The episode also apparently forgets that Alya and Marinette's friendship must not be as strong by her logic of telling Nino specifically everything, as Alya kept Rena Rouge a secret from Marinette for all of Season 3, but tells Nino about continuing to be Rena Rouge in Season 4. Boyfriends before BFFs without explicitly saying it, or to be more specific, whatever screws Marinette over the most, because that's what this comes down to, made worse by "Optigami" where Marinette told Alya that she'd tell her everything and I guess that doesn't go both ways.

"Sentibubbler" had Alya stress that no one would ever know. She promised Marinette and told Marinette to trust her, and the episode spent its entire running time talking her up and assuring Marinette that she was the right choice, even considering Marinette ridiculous for worrying when Alya had done something without Marinette's permission the episode right before it. Then, three episodes after "Sentibubbler," when Marinette is finally comfortable and trusts Alya completely, Alya betrays that trust. Nino betrayed that trust, knowing he wasn't supposed to do so but telling Adrien his and Rena's identity anyway, because he was losing an argument and needed to PROVE something.

Marinette gives them an inch and they take a mile. Marinette bent the rules so that they could continue to have the miraculous they'd started with and they disrespected her because it was hard for like a day.

And if this bites them back, it won't reflect poorly on them, it'll reflect poorly on Marinette.

It's not like Alya just overrode Marinette. She didn't go, "Hey, I'm telling Nino, I'm sorry," or tried her hardest to go back and forth with Marinette until they both agreed. No, she did what she told Marinette she wouldn't do without saying a word to her, because LOVE and SEEEECRETS.

And this only applies to her, of course, because don't think I didn't notice the parallels between this episode and "Truth," because WOW.

Episode begins with Marinette hoping for something and it blows up in her face? A date at the cinema that ends on a sour note? Plot-centric couple trying to get Andre's ice cream and the female with a secret needing to leave in a hurry? Boyfriend character getting akumatized over their girlfriend's secret? Boyfriend assumes/suggests that the girlfriend's secret involves Aaaaaadrien - or his alter-ego in "Rocketear"'s case - and the episode hints as much to him even though he's completely wrong? Akuma's colors are blue and black? THE BRIDGE?

But, ahhh, little difference, here and there, y'know, like how Marinette was forced to break up with her boyfriend while Alya got to keep hers, and Nino got to have long talks with Alya while Luka got little to nothing with Marinette.

Because do note that Alya, while trying to convince Marinette and talk to Nino about not keeping secrets, at no point suggests that Marinette deserves to be happy and deserves to have a boyfriend and that Marinette should be allowed to tell Luka her secret so they can get back together, so you have Alya here selfishly prioritizing her relationship with Nino while making no comment about Marinette's relationship, essentially asking Marinette to allow her what Marinette herself didn't have the luxury of, and Alya knows this because Marinette told her. It is both incredibly insensitive of Alya and incredibly insulting of the show to make so many parallels between this episode and "Truth" just to have everything crash down for Marinette because she's Marinette while everything goes well for Alya and Nino because they're not Marinette.

We've talked before about the formulas that are literally baked into the show, and one of those is how Marinette makes a mistake in every episode and has to learn from it. What that mistake is in this episode, I don't know, but considering that she apologizes for Alya and Nino's problems, I guess the show blames her for what they themselves had taught her.

Point being, there's a clear karma system in place, but it only applies to Marinette, and forcing her to mess up in every episode means that she is literally not allowed to be with Luka because had she been able to clear things up between them, he would've eagerly accepted her and they could've been happy. It'd be too difficult for her to mess up when Luka doesn't put mountains of pressure and expectations on her like everyone else. Factor that in with how she can be herself around him and it leads to situation that are too difficult for her to screw up in because her mistakes - more often than not - center around Adrien or her role as guardian.

And because another rule in the show is to bring up Adrien so they don't "lose him for too long," she can't avoid bringing him up either. If he's not in the plot, he has to be mentioned, leaving Marinette in a lose-lose situation that she'll never be free from.

So, let me just get this straight then:

The guy who spied on his girlfriend instead of talking to her about his assumptions gets to keep his girlfriend, not because he realized it was wrong regardless of whether he was correct or not, but because the situation had been cleared up for him, yet the guy who actively resisted his akumatization, saddened by his girlfriend's secrets but wanting her to share them when she was ready, gets broken up with and tossed to the wayside because he's not a rich blond boy who got a miraculous because he happened to be within the twenty meters of space where Fu was searching for new holders?

Meanwhile, the girlfriend who has gone against the wishes and insistence of her best friend - guardian of the miraculouses, by the way, so she calls the shots, something that Alya herself said in "Optigami" BEFORE GOING ON TO DO HER OWN THING IN THE SAME EPISODE AND BEING REWARDED FOR IT - is allowed to go against the wishes and insistence of her best friend again for the sake of "all love, no secrets" with her boyfriend and so she can have the happy ending she wants, yet the girl who was chosen for a miraculous without her consent, forced to screw up and talk about a random boy who doesn't even go out of his way to spend time with her, treated like absolute trash by writers who find humor in her misery, and is the only one to receive overly harsh and long-lasting consequences for her actions while also covering up and forgiving the actions of others within the episode where they do it...

doesn't get her happy ending, and won't ever get her happy ending. That thing Shadow Moth said about love and secrets not going well together? Yeah, only goes as far as the writers want it to, because both Nino and Alya still have secrets, and some of the ones they did tell each other were forced by someone else and kept until that very moment. This idea that people in love have to tell each other everything and that it makes a relationship stronger makes me immensely uncomfortable, and that lesson is also in "Guiltrip."

People should be allowed their secrets, and obviously there are exceptions for things that are being hidden with malicious intent, but being essentially forced to share everything or risk not having a "full and complete" relationship is stifling and sounds like it'd only cause stress.

This episode sucks. It furthers and confirms everything I've already thought about the show, Nino's screentime continues to be dependent on Adrien, Alya, or both, there are pointless references that completely take me out of the experience, and the utter betrayal from Alya and supposed message of the episode just reminds me that Marinette is inevitably going to be stuck with a guy who didn't even DO anything in this episode and is going to let himself stew instead of asking for any sort of clarifications from someone he apparently trusts so much.

So the takeaway is that Marinette's life is awful, she'll be forced to apologize for rules that she didn't even come up with herself, her best friend will walk all over her for the sake of her relationship with a guy - not even for the sake, really, they were going to be fine, it was more for HER personal comfort if anything - and the guy who actually makes Marinette happy and could've known her identity instead BECAUSE HE AT LEAST DIDN'T HAVE A TRACK RECORD OF SPILLING HER SECRETS gets treated in the exact same way that she does; like nothing, just something to abuse unfairly.

What a waste of an episode.

[tg-headcanons]

So I've got a really peculiar but weird request.

And now I'm going to present to you this very strange ask that is biting my brain since forever, but I was to afraid to ask to other person.

What do you think are the age of the lose of the V-card for the major characters of tokyo ghoul?

Includes: Uta and maybe Itori 🙄 just few people perceive this chatacters like majors.

So curious to read your comment!

The bastards first times! (There’s Nothing explicit, just the basics, but I’m still putting it under the cut)

Kaneki: 19, after he’d been in a relationship with Hide for a couple months. They went to his house to go all the way after koma made fun of them for starting to try things out in Kaneki’s room where everyone in the building heard them

Hide: 17 to a highschool girlfriend. They dated briefly and broke up soon afterwards. Kaneki was there to hear his post-breakup woes and feel vaguely jealous when he mentioned that she was his first

Touka: 18 with Yoriko of course, they waited until they both graduated and she spent the night at her house since the sound proofing at anteiku isn’t ideal and she learned from Kaneki’s mistakes

Koma: 15 with a human guy he would hang out with on occasion, back when he was first trying to see how to fit in with human society he befriended one and had a small teen romance before going their separate ways

Irimi: 19 with one of her current gang members but won’t tell anyone who because she knows koma will make memes about it

Nishiki: 16 with another ghoul who lived near him outside of human society. He was the closest thing nishiki ever had to a romantic partner before kimi and they would have stayed together if he hadn’t been killed shortly before he applied to university in a territory dispute

Tsukiyama: for as popular as he was in high school, not until he was 19. He wanted it to be romantic but instead rushed into it with another ghoul Noble visiting from England who he now hates but still occasionally hooks up with

Kanae: 20, he doesn’t like the idea of sleeping with someone who could come back to bite him so he hooked up with a guy that he knew shuu planned to kill since he’d be dead soon anyway

Oomori: 16 to a girl he had an arrangement with to help each other get through heats that lasted a couple years before he got taken into custody and they lost touch. It was never romantic but he did care about her as a friend, and did try to find her when he got out to no avail

Naki: 14, to someone who’s name he never got. He was on his own at that point and didn’t have anyone to take care of him or even teach him how to be safe during his first heats, so he ended up looking for “help” from the ghoul who’s territory he was in at the time and they weren’t particularly kind, but they didn’t kill him at least and he counts that as a win

Takizawa: 16 to his girlfriend at the time, they were only together for like a month because they were just horny teenagers but he still felt like he was supposed to properly court her first and she seemed interested. They split up after since they both admitted they just wanted to fuck someone and they didn’t talk much after that since they were both embarrassed by the whole thing

Amon: 24 while extremely drunk. He’s Catholic so he hated the idea of sex before marriage or any sexual impulse at all, but while trying to drink away the horny at a bar he ended up hooking up with a woman there. He was deeply ashamed and is still embarrassed by his lack of self control

Akira: she planned everything down to the date. She selected a boy in her class she suspected was interested in her and told him that beginning on the date of her 17th birthday, once they were both the proper age of consent, she would allow him to enter a friends with benefits situation with her. He was down for it because she’s hot and yeah, it was weird that she printed a contract for him to sign and texted him a week in advance to schedule times, but it lasted until their graduation

Uta and Itori: at 15 to each other, they were bored and still buzzed from adrenaline after a fight so they found an open window to an empty house. I pity whoever lived there and had to find the room when they were done

Renji: at 19 to Uta, that dude is collecting virginities like Pokémon cards. When They’d finally stopped fighting each other they went out for drinks (or rather to the basement of an old building where itori was brewing bloodshine) and got tipsy enough to work up the courage

Mutsuki: he hasn’t yet. He doesn’t want to have sex with someone who may judge or comment on his body or tell others about his identity, so he’s just quietly horny until he finds someone he trusts and likes

Saiko: she hasn’t and doesn’t really care. She’d be happy to sleep with someone if propositioned and in the right mood but doesn’t go out of her way to do it

Urie: exactly once when he was 17. He’s deep in the closet and so was a classmate who asked if he wanted to fuck on a date both of them were trying to pretend they were into. He’s gay, she was a lesbian, they had really awkward sex

Shirazu: 16 and he doesn’t remember who it was at this point. He has tons of flings in school but none ever stuck around for long. It takes a lot for him to form a romantic connection so all he remembers is that it was a girl and he thinks her name started with an “H”

[googledocsdyke]

Do you have any thoughts/recommended texts for Cas analysis? I genuinely love the dean gender studies and I just wanna know what people might apply to Cas.

yes absolutely!! while dean studies is my first love i also deeply love cas analysis (casnalysis?) and wanna strive to do more of it. here’s some stuff off the top of my head:

1. gender, sexuality, heavenly embodiment

this is much more theological and less psychological than dean’s whole Deal because there’s so much fascinating stuff around how the angels in general experience express and conceptualise gender (@autisticandroids has a good post about angel gender & lily sunder has some regrets) but for cas in particular there’s this fascinating kind of collective fandom agreement (which i DO also agree with) that cas’ own gender kind of is gay man, that he actively chose gay manhood, but also that he’s kind of..... lacking the Insane Genderishness that dean exhibits at all times, even though he actively chose to engage in male gendering and became so comfortable housed Within Jimmy that he, as some post i saw the other day that i can’t find anymore said, “became his own body” when jimmy died. 

like on the one hand there’s an almost-canonical transness to the whole process but it also never feels fully written-into because 1) the supernatural writers for all their insanity are sometimes very boring and *most* of the time only feel interested in narratively expressing angels As Their Vessels anyways and just like leaving convenient spaces around these questions (boldest thing they ever did was hot girl cas which i WISH i had the range to unpack) 2) there’s a vague inevitabilist shrug to the whole thing since they obviously weren’t gonna recast misha collins (though they HAVE tried to get rid of him) and 3) something amorphous about cas’ entire..... personhood? makes him Empty Of Gender as a contrast to dean’s Full Of Gender (i believe it was @deanwinchestergender who said this) and like is it just the juxtaposition to dean/jensen’s whole insane Deal? or something else? 

like he actively chooses the terms of his own embodiment and yet narratively it feels like a shrug. and we’re all like “well obviously even though he’s a celestial being he was always a gay man” and like WHY. i love it idk idk much to think about! and yeah just in general the theological questions of possession and cas genuinely Becoming a man as he iterates himself consciously towards humanity it almost feels like. by doing the most boring things possible with his gender they made it interesting? idk if that makes sense.

2. discipline, free will, metanarratives

cas is like a tool (“i am not a hammer, as you say”) held in constant discipline and surveillance by the system that enmeshes him and it’s really, really fascinating to watch the way the angels hold each other to conformity. especially pre-god they kind of produce each other as foucauldian disciplinary subjects (which i posted about here) in perpetual visibility through angel radio, generating their own and each other’s conformity rather than being directly ruled through like a single centralised source of power. only the spectre of a god. and obviously cas’ whole thing is that he has ALWAYS disobeyed and the narrative affords him this psychological interiority never given to the foucauldian subject, an internal will and desire for freedom in a way that fits more with the liberal subject (super roughly and not with the same pro-capitalist implications but he has this internal drive for self-liberation. 

and that’s also where the metanarrative comes in ofc! i think it was @dykecas who said that cas is a real person written by people who hate him, and there’s this crack in the narrative (mirroring the crack in his chassis) where cas gets in, over and over, despite all the order imposed by the show’s authorfathergod. like we’ve all seen the analysis about how it was Never supposed to be this way they DID try to fire misha collins in 2012 and yet this gay man literally cannot be stopped! i think actually his appearance in scoobynatural is a neat little distillation of this — he drops into this animated world originally with a singular purpose (Save Sam And Dean) the same way he dropped into lazarus rising with a single 3-episode arc (Save Dean). huge hammer behaviour. his “utility” diminishes within the narrative (he finds that he can’t fly in the scooby doo universe) and so he is no longer a tool/means to an end that salvation moves Through. and in the process (and huge creds to @lesbianyuugi for this) he does something ENTIRELY unrelated to his original cas-as-tool aim, and learns, like, the meaning of laughter from shaggy and scooby. WHICH brings me onto the third point

3. love, queer kinship, family-making

HE’S GAY AND HE’S A DAD! i feel like a lot of tumblr throws around the term “found family” in a very flat and tropey way (which is fine it’s cute and fun no matter what!) but like . GOD there’s so much specific stuff going on here. like the way that cas (unintentionally) obliterates the midwestern white christian nuclear family (made incarnate in the novaks) which like could be uniformly portrayed as an act of deep malice and villainy but instead grows to serve as a surrogate (if imperfect/complex, but DEEPLY loving) father figure for the gay daughter who has now escaped that nuclear family/seen it destroyed depending on how you read it? like he remasters the entire concept of fatherhood and it’s a very interesting (if DEEPLY) unintentional subversion of the homewrecking non-nuclear gay trope. cas is so good because his character arc doesn’t say “look, gay people can be normal and have perfect settled families just like you” it says “gay people DON’T have normal settled families actually and they are full of love anyways! or Because of the abnormalcy itself!) 

to cite ziz lesbianyuugi again he DOES queer fatherhood in his parenting of jack particularly because it really is one of the ONLY parent-child relationships in the show that breaks the incessant cycle of abuse and control and cold indifference perpetuated by the authorfathergod (a cycle reified in 15x20 lol). like god’s treatment of cas and his siblings mirrors john’s treatment of sam and dean (particularly dean) mirrors victor’s treatment of krissy and her crew mirrors dean’s later treatment of jack. there is a CONSTANT reiteration of the story of authorfathergod (often a father tightly entwined in biological kinship) treating a child as a mechanism or a tool or a means to an end. and cas looks at ALL that he has suffered and all that he is ever known and chooses constantly to reject it with every piece of love he expresses for his child. and not to sound like the kind of academic people make fun of on twitter but there is an INHERENT queerness to that. gay love will pierce through [the veil of death/the thick silence of abuse/the mechanism of godly control/hegemonic american masculinity] and save the day

anyways here are some very haphazard recs on everything above for further reading:

angels in america (tony kushner)

histrionics of the pulpit: trans tonalities of religious enthusiasm

the public universal friend: religious enthusiasm in revolutionary america

discipline and punish (michel foucault)

friendship as a way of life (michel foucault)

the genesis of blame (recommended by @pietacastiel who has GREAT theology content in general

all about love (bell hooks)

the chapter “when hated characters talk back” in anti-fandom: dislike and hate in the digital age (is actually explicitly about cas)

also cannot recommend enough following the ppl i tagged above!! most of the unlinked stuff is available through��http://libgen.li/ and bookshop is a good alternative to amazon if ur american and want physical copies

[cdroloisms]

so... the red banquet, huh?

im not going to lie, i was cheering on the eggpire the entire time (/lh) - what can i say, something abt the demon possessed resident evil crew just speaks to my heart. theyre FUN, ok? 

anyway, a lot of people were theorizing abt what c!dream showing up at the banquet could look like - and, well, i thought i’d write my version of it. this takes place in the “guard dog au” developed primarily by a gc im in on twitter (@stabbysideblog being the main originator of it, do check sunny out !!) - the basic premise is post-getting the revive book from c!dream, c!quackity continues to get his, uh, “use” out of him by basically treating him as a bodyguard/guard dog as he goes around the server - which should probably give you a pretty good idea of how this is going to go :] 

tws: death, grief, implied torture, starvation, abuse, blood, murder, unhealthy relationship, dehumanization, possession, trauma, mental illness, violence, dark content, dark imagery, emotional distress, mental instability, pandora’s vault/prison arc, c!quackity critical (not really, but a very dark portrayal of him) 

A strangled sob claws its way up Puffy’s throat as she watches Foolish fall.

He drops in a spray of golden ichor in the crimson, brilliant green eyes trained on hers, jaw slack in horror, pain, dipping to the ground and whiting out before he’s even fully collapsed. The others’ screams hardly even meet her ears; all she can see is her son, falling, her son, dying, her son, that same sunlit kindness still held in the curve of his lips in this room that knows nothing but pain and betrayal, gone gone gone gone-

Because of her.

Ant’s still staring at her, pupils thinned to needles from the brightness of the lava at their backs, ears alert but stance entirely calm as he twirls his sword, still dripping gold. His mouth is moving but she cannot hear anything above the ring ring ringing in her ears, the world swirling and blurring dangerously from the tears gathering in her eyes and spilling over her cheeks, Ant’s eyes polished rubies where there had once been a cloudless sky. Bad gestures at the crowd, pushed back towards the lava’s fire in their fear, leaving her to stand in the middle of the room as one desperate dying scream, the egg, standing as a silent witness to it all-

“Bad-” a flash of blue, and there’s someone standing in front of her, shoulders pulled back, a diamond sword glittering their right hand, “Stop it.”

“Quackity.”’

Bad snarls, tail whipping back and forth; Puffy takes a step back, then another, shoulders still shaking in grief for her son, for her friends, for everyone who’s about to lose their lives in this twisted realm of crimson and hellfire. There is no fear on Quackity’s face though he stands unarmored, and for the first time in this awful day something like worry flashes over Bad’s face. There’s history here, she realizes - what did Bad say about Quackity attacking? - but none of this is making sense, not the self-assured way Quackity is carrying himself, wings relaxed and folded at his back, not the simmering unease making itself known in the foreign cadence of Bad’s voice.

“Oh my gosh, look at what you’ve done,” Quackity says, voice almost patronizing, like a parent stumbling in on the mess their child has made out of their bedroom, “this is impressive, I’m not going to lie, this is quite impressive.” Puffy swallows thickly, hears the shuddering gasp of someone behind her - Fundy, probably, or Sam - as Quackity’s voice drops. “You have to stop right now.”

“Stop?”

“This whole Egg thing is just getting out of control - you just killed a man,” Quackity stalks across the netherbrick floor like he has all the time in the world, ignoring the crossbows that the Eggpire has trained on his back, guarded only by the off-white shirt he’s wearing, an untied tie hanging limply around his neck. She sucks in a sharp breath through her teeth - my son, they killed my son, she means to say, but the words stick to the walls of her throat and only escape her lungs in another series of wracking sobs. “Is that what you wanted to do, Bad?”

He laughs - laughs, of all things, and there is something here that Puffy is missing, that isn’t clicking through the muddied fog of grief hanging grey and suffocating around her head, but Quackity is speaking again and she can’t think about it all, not now, “-and I’m not gonna have it anymore, Bad.”

He slips over by the crowd, eyes glancing all of them huddled in one fearful mob over the tables, eyes dark and daring and cold; the Eggpire keeps their eyes trained on him, Bad’s eyebrows furrowed, Ant’s muzzle twisted in a snarl. Puffy watches, their words passing over her like water skidding against the surface of a rock splitting a stream in two, heart thudding in her ears, marking out the heartsick beats in this poisoned melody - one-two, her-son, her-son, her-son-

He stops in front of her in the middle of monologuing, eyes trained on her own like he’s trying to tell her something. His eyes flick down and she follows their gaze to his other hand, the one not clasped around a sword handle, watches as he gestures vaguely in the direction of the Eggpire. She frowns, confusion cutting through the grief - what is he trying to say? - and Quackity sighs, index finger slashing in the air in the shape of what might be an A as he spins on his heel to walk back towards Bad and the others.

“So how about we just stop playing?”

Quackity smiles, teeth white and glittering from the lava’s glow even as the Eggpire surrounds him, pushes him back against the wall. Bad seems to hesitate, hand clasped around the trigger of a crossbow he keeps pointed at the other’s head; when he speaks, he almost sounds mournful.

“I can’t,” he mutters, quiet, stepping forwards as his shoulders straighten, pushing Quackity back in a motion that the others are quick to follow. Puffy watches, an awful sinking feeling falling through the hole left in her chest by the sight of her son, falling, her son, dead - watches as Quackity’s wings open, shine golden in the lava’s light - what is he planning?

“You know why I can’t stop.”

Quackity heaves a heavy sigh through his lungs, “Bad- you and all your buddies here, drop your weapons, and leave. Let all of these people go.”

“Or what?” Ant’s voice is sharp, but Quackity barely pays him a second thought, swinging a glare at his head and cutting him off.

“I’m not talking to you,” he laughs, dismissive, “I’m talking to Bad.”

“No-” Puffy watches as Bad’s hand tightens on his crossbow, punctuating the word with a step forward. “You put your weapon down. If you wanted to stop us?” He’s too close to Quackity for Puffy to make out either of their faces, crossbow bolt aimed and ready to send straight through his skull. She stiffens, sees from the corner of her eye as the ones beside her look away, and resigns herself to the inevitable spray of blood on brick - not again not again don’t make me watch again - “You should’ve brought more than just yourself.”

Quackity laughs.

“I did,” his voice is dangerous in its levity, making Bad, then the rest of the Eggpire step back as his wings spread open further, watching with bated breath and wide eyes as a swarm of white descends from a hidden hole in the wall, “Or, well, I did the next best thing. I brought my worst enemy.”

“What?”

“Alright Quackity, where’s this Egg thing?”

Technoblade jumps down into the room in a familiar purple-black blur of expertly enchanted netherite armor, form impeccable despite the seeming exhaustion in his voice. At his feet, a pack of wolves gather, pace, muscles coiled and clearly ready to strike; he rolls his shoulders back, signature fireworks loaded into his crossbow, and the crowd behind Puffy immediately breaks into shocked murmuring and soft cheers.

On Quackity’s other side, someone else flips into the room, wearing a suit of all things, crisp and well-pressed; Purpled grins, entirely too gleeful as the Eggpire presses back further, held off by the dogs swarming and growling at their feet.

“Purpled- we hired you!”

“To be frank with you, Bad, a sword appears in Purpled’s hand and he flips it casually, blade thin and gleaming, “Quackity just had the better price.”

“We- we still outnumber you!” Bad’s voice is a near-scream in its desperation, his tail lashing back and forth as he shifts his weight forward, “It’s four against three- we’ll still win-” Despite herself, Puffy’s mind spins; either way, they’re still at a disadvantage from sheer numbers alone, never mind Quackity’s lack of armor. Maybe if they all work together, they’ll be able to sufficiently stop them, but there’s no way she can see this ending in anything less than a bloodbath-

“I didn’t want for it to come to this, Bad,” Quackity’s voice drops low and sweet, the sincerity in his tone belied by his glittering eyes and jagged grin. The shift in tone sends a shiver down her back, has even his allies shifting uncomfortably in what seems to be confusion - Puffy catches something like a murmured no from Sam, behind her, before Quackity whistles, loud.

It all happens too fast for her to follow; one moment, the Eggpire is standing, weapons raised and ready to fight; the next, and there is a new netherite-clad figure in the middle of the room, signature sparks of purple from a pearl still glittering around them, axe buried into Antfrost’s chest. The room devolves into shrieks as his body dissolves, Bad gasping sharply and something dark bubbling in Puffy’s chest - good - as the newcomer in the room moves over to Ponk, bloodstained axe swinging in a downward arc, only barely stopped in time by a diamond sword catching on the crook of the blade.

“Go!” Quackity’s voice rings out above the chaos, and Techno and Purpled - seemingly shaken from their shock - fly into motion, fireworks bursting in flashes of red and black that send Puffy blinking out stars from her eyes, Purpled moving to match blows against Hannah and Techno’s army biting at the ankles of the Eggpire leader. Around her, people scream in relief, cheering as the Eggpire, clad in eggshell-blue, are pushed back one by one, hindered by a shifting wave of teeth and claws and clashing blades and netherite moving smoothly over the uneven floor - Bad screams, “RETREAT!”, and they disappear into the wall.

Purpled curses; “I’m going after them.” Puffy watches, still reeling, as he dives into the corridor that Bad had revealed, a flash of purple and blue melting into the shadows; the mystery figure - still hauling a heavy, bloodstained axe, nearly dragging against the floor - moves forward as to follow.

Quackity snaps his fingers, and the figure stops, turns, immediately moving to the winged man’s side. Behind her, Puffy can make out cheers, gasping, hysterical sounds of relief; she can’t join them, feels nothing but the shuddering weight of her grief pressing further on her lungs as the adrenaline fades, head dizzy with Foolish’ sharp gasp in pain, Ant’s yowl of agony. Her eyes flick to the side, catch on Sam pacing, muttering under his breath; when his eyes meet hers, they widen in something like - alarm?

She shakes her head; she can’t think about all of that, right now. Her hooves stumble over the vines and rot strewn over the floor, carrying her forward to the glitter of gold on red, to where her son had fallen and she could do no more but watch with a scream caught between her teeth.

A hand lands on her shoulder- “I’m sorry we couldn’t make it in time.”

She whirls around; Quackity’s looking down at her, face twisted in sympathy. Behind him, the armored stranger looms, hair long and tangled, helmet keeping their face in shadow and hiding their features from view. There’s something distantly familiar to them, in the way they shift from one foot to the other, something that makes her eyes narrow and throat tighten-

“Who are you?” The words tumble from her mouth, making Quackity freeze, jaw snapping shut, the figure behind him tensing almost imperceptibly under their armor. “Who-”

Quackity’s eyes are dark, piercing; she can’t read them, the flat line of his mouth as confusing as it is frustrating. His eyes flick up to somewhere over her shoulder before moving back to her own

“How rude of me,” He smiles, gold tooth glinting, “I didn’t even introduce our special guest.”

His right wing presses against their back, and they drop, immediately, to their knees, making her step back in shock. Quackity’s hand slips easily under the edge of their helmet, ripping it off with little care and letting their hair fall in a wave of dusty browns over their face; he pulls the strands back roughly, revealing the paleness to their skin, the hollows in their cheeks-

“Dream?”

Her breath shudders in her chest, eyes snapping up to Quackity, still smiling, hand still pressed against the back of his skull. Dream’s face is pale, thin, clawed with new scars that highlight the jut of his cheekbones and the dullness of his eyes. He looks up at her, eyes glassy, skin almost grey, and for a moment she’s looking at Foolish, eyes unseeing in death, the luster of his skin stolen like the air from his lungs, and she nearly screams.

“Puffy, Puffy,” Quackity murmurs, almost kind, “It’s alright, see? Everything’s fine now.”

“He- he’s supposed to be in prison,” she hisses, not missing how he flinches, not missing how even that is hindered by the hand braced against his head. He looks strangely small kneeling at Quackity’s side, dwarfed by the netherite he’s wearing; even with an axe strapped to his back, the blade still wet with crimson and reeking of iron and decay, he hardly looks like the villain that had terrorized the server, the son she could no longer recognize in the midst of the bridges he burned.

“Oh- don’t worry about him,” Quackity shrugs, wings fluttering, “It’s all being done with the Warden’s permission, Puffy, I know what I’m doing.” As if to prove his point, his hand tightens on the other’s hair, tugging his head back by the roots; Dream hardly even reacts, simply letting himself be manhandled, throat bare and exposed to the air, similarly criss-crossed by scars. “He’s perfectly well-behaved now, you see?”

Her throat closes, the pit in her gut torn open by the sight of her son with a blade skewered through his heart only growing wider, hungrier, by the dullness in the eyes of the other. Foolish’ death had happened too fast for her to react: one moment, he was staring at her, eyes mournful in goodbye; the next, he was a tumble of gold and green and blue against the floor, half of his name still not having left her lips. Dream’s head swivels to hers, face entirely blank; there is nothing quick written in the gauntness of his face, more scar tissue than skin, in the shadows under his eyes or how they seem to stare, unseeing, in the long, knotted strands of hair twisted over Quackity’s knuckles. He looks like he’s been dying, slowly, for months, and the screaming cry of YOU FAILED ringing in her head in Ant’s voice only grows louder.

“What did you-” the words scrape roughly against the inside of her mouth, “What did you do?”

Quackity shrugs, letting go, and Dream’s head tips forward to stare at the floor. “What had to be done.”

He clicks his fingers again, and Dream stands, falling behind Quackity with his shoulders pulled up to his ears. Quackity hands him back his helmet, keeping his hand stretched out, palm up, even after Dream takes the netherite and fastens it back over his head. Puffy watches, heart stuck in her throat, as Dream fiddles with something by his throat, pulls out a thick coil of iron chains, pressing the end to Quackity’s outstretched hand - the other side, she realizes, fastened around his neck.

Her breath stutters when he looks back at Quackity, gut roiling at the familiarity - it’s an imperfect copy of the way he used to look at her, a skittish shadow at her tail, all awkward smiles and fidgeting hands. Only now, his eyes don’t dance with the same light, his lungs shivering in fear instead of wheezing laughter; she watches as his head follows Quackity like he’s the only person in the room, a duckling imprinted on the nearest person and ready to follow to the ends of the world and further, and her heart shatters all over again.

“Anyway,” Quackity’s eyes soften, lips curled in sympathy, “My condolences, Puffy, for your son. It really is a tragedy.”

She watches him leave with tears in her eyes, a sob once again caught in her throat. The images overlap - Foolish, smiling under the sun’s glow, sitting on the roof of his summer home - Dream, grinning in the treetops, eyes as green as the leaves surrounding him - Foolish, falling in a spray of ichor and a gasp of pain, Dream, grey-eyed and silent, dead as the crimson rot surrounding his beaten body-

My condolences for your son, Quackity’s words echo in her skull, and not for the first time, she laughs miserably, tears falling from her eyes.

Which one?

[rae-gar-targaryen]

alight with the lights out | diego hargreeves x reader [tua]

A/N: Thank you for all of your interest after I posted the teaser! It was VERY surprising and humbling; I’ve NEVER had so many people ask for a tag before. I only ask that if you asked for a tag, you interact with this fic SOMEHOW. And go find another story you love and REBLOG IT! LET THAT WRITER KNOW YOU LOVE THEM!

I’ll be honest, I’m very nervous about this one. I’m not sure if it turned out as good on paper as it did in my head. Please let me know what you liked and what you didn’t!

Pairing: Diego Hargreeves x vigilante, powered!Reader; this one may read a bit more like an OC because I’ve given the reader backstory, powers. She’s (you’re) a vigilante who regularly runs into Diego. I keep the physical description vague, so I hope you can still imagine yourself! 

Warnings: Language; who doesn’t love getting a little sweary? Violence, fighting, references to a shitty childhood, and separately, implied sexual assault (nothing graphic, I promise); angst and angsty dialogue; SMUT-- 18+ ONLY PLEASE; lots of cocktease dialogue, fingering, pierced nipples (the reader’s not Diego’s-- sorry), biting, rough sex, choking. Romance is its own warning. Fluff.

Word Count: 12.1k of sexy, self-righteous vigilantism, half-baked metaphor and of course, at least one literary reference. 

Summary: Diego Hargreeves, aka The Kraken, is secure about few things in life; one of those things being his vigilantism. He’s a hero. Until he meets a fighter who shares the same hobby, albeit with different methodologies. Diego isn’t quite as certain about her, but her mysterious abilities make him think he and his siblings aren’t the only ones in this world with power. If only she and Diego could just stay out of each others’ hair. It’s a good, old-fashioned ENEMIES TO LOVERS, lads!

Link to my playlist of songs that inspired this fic: here

NOT MY GIF

----

You wouldn't hurt anyone who didn't deserve it. That was rule number one. Hell, if you could get away with it at all, you wouldn’t hurt anyone. 

But Mr. Adler hated children. And he had made it his mission to not understand you. To regard you with the utmost disdain. And unfortunately for you, Mr. Adler had married your mother when you were six years old. 

You had never known another father. Your mother refused to talk about the circumstances of your birth, or of the man who had supposedly been responsible. The lack of identity loomed like a large question mark over certain portions of your life. 

And Mr. Adler, that loud, controlling lout, was not about to fill that void. 

When you were in elementary school, you began to feel like you were different from the other children. Watching them carry about their days with their steel-pressed pop culture lunch boxes and not a care in the world. While you sensed your music teacher’s sadness when her cat had died. You could feel every anxiety that passed through your classmates on the day of a spelling test. You didn’t know why you could feel these things. You just could.

Prominently above them all, you could feel Mr. Adler’s hatred for you, like a thick, toxic wall every time you passed through your front door and into what was supposed to be your sanctuary. 

He shouted at you for inane things, like the pantry door being left open, or the fact that your mother was tired after cooking dinner, insisting you never did enough to help. As a child of eight, what did he expect you to do? You kept your room clean, cleared and set the table, helped your mom water the plants in her garden. What more could Adler want from you?

Still, Mr. Adler’s hate for you colored your every interaction with him, the world you saw him through tinged with an orange-red lens of rage. 

You had never tried expanding upon your grasp of others’ feelings until you had witnessed a boy in your class push your pigtailed classmate, Annabelle, down on the playground. Anna’s shock, fear and sadness had bitten into you from the other side of the sandbox like an unwelcome spider bite, sudden and itchy. 

It didn’t sit right with you. To you, how was this boy any different from Adler? Reigning terror over someone else just because he thought he could. You’d recognize that red-orange tinge in another person anywhere. 

You stood, marching over to the boy, gripping his wrist firmly in your stubby, grubby fingers. Quick as a flash, you were met with every emotion this boy had ever felt -- annoyance at Anna (she wouldn’t share her toys. How selfish, the boy had thought); anger (how dare you grab him!); and finally, prominently, fear. 

Fear looked different for everyone, you had noticed. For some, like this boy, it was an ugly green, so like jealousy. For others, like Adler when he’d been drinking, it was an inky black you could drown in. Fear was clearly the strongest. You knew that now.

You gripped the boy’s fear in your own mind, pushing it to the forefront until he began to cry, his eyes welling with the sudden fear he couldn’t understand. 

“You won’t do that again,” you said. Turning to Anna, you offered a hand to help her up, but she just shook her head, pigtails flying, and scampered away from you. 

Your teachers were clearly afraid of you after that. Could sense that something wasn’t right. Anna? You thought she’d be grateful ... but the chilly pale yellow of her fear, and everyone else’s, followed you wherever you went. 

Fine, you thought. If they wouldn’t be grateful for what you could do, you may as well help yourself. 

From then on, you exploited your teachers’ happiness -- pop quizzes became less frequent. Everytime they wanted to scold you for incomplete homework, they were left grasping at straws and with the daze of an emotion they couldn’t name. 

Adler hated you for it. 

“I knew there was something wrong with you,” he sneered over your mother’s weeping objections. “I don’t know what it is, but I know there’s something.” 

Once you reached 18, you left for the neighboring bustling metropolis and didn’t look back. The world was full of people like Adler, like the boy in the sandbox, like your teachers, who tried to use their own fear to feed their hate, to exploit others. To exercise false power over them. 

Well, you wouldn’t have it. If it meant a few of those assholes got hurt, well, so be it. 

You lived like that for years. Until --

---

"I hope you choke on it," you hissed, watching the smoky black tendrils slither their way around the man, constricting -- bringing him to his knees, hacking and gasping. "I see your fear, I feel it all. You deserve this, you know you do," you lectured, advancing toward the man, your hands raised. 

He was seconds away, you knew it-- and then one more scumbag would be off the streets for good ...

Things were going your way, you were in your favorite position in an altercation-- you know, the one where you had the upper hand? Everything was coming up you, until--

Your ears were met with a whizzing noise mere seconds before a sharp, shiny something nicked your cheek and lodged into the wooden beam just past you. 

Your gaze left the piteous man before you long enough to see what looked like a small, but dangerously sharp, knife embedded in the beam. You reached up and plucked it from its resting place, spinning it in your palm before catching the hilt in a clutching grip. You turned to see where it had come from, your eyes catching a dark blur flipping from the fire escape of the opposite building, before said blur landed at your feet.

Standing at his full height, the blur-- no, the Kraken himself-- towered above you.

You had to admit, the stories didn't do him justice. Standing before you in head-to-toe black and a harness replete with shimmering, twinkling edges and danger, you could've sworn he was your knight in shining leather. His cropped hair and facial scars gave him the air that he was every bit as sharp and deadly as the many blades that adorned his body. His oilslick eyes so like mirthless pits of danger, daring to suck you beneath their surface. He was, in a word, imposing.

Regarding you from behind his Venetian domino mask, he spoke, "Miss I'm gonna need you to drop the knife and let this man go."

You snorted.

"You're joking, right?" Not giving him a chance to respond, you chuckled as you swung at him with the hand still holding what you now knew to be his blade. 

You'd give credit where it was due, Diego Hargreeves, aka Number Two, aka the Kraken, was every bit as fast as they'd said. In this regard, the stories and Umbrella Academy-related media hadn't been wrong. 

Diego dodged your swing, bending his body back before twirling around to strike at your torso, like a snake, with his heavy, hammered fist.

The hit knocked the wind out of you, effectively breaking your concentration, and, devastatingly, your connection with the previously fear-choked man cowering in the alley behind you. As you recovered from Diego's hit and swung around to check your quarry, you could only watch as he shook himself from your fear-induced trance.

He scraped and scrabbled to get up off his knees as Diego shouted at him to "Go, just get out of here!"

You snarled and swung a well-aimed high kick at Diego's head, connecting with just enough of his jaw to drop him. As soon as your proverbial window opened, you turned from Diego to run after the man. But even grounded from a blow, Diego was formidable. He shot his arm out and snagged your ankle, yanking you to the ground. 

The gritty pavement scraped your palms as you attempted to catch yourself on your way down, growling as you glanced up to see that loathsome cockroach of a man slip out of the alley, huffing as his bloated legs carried himself far away from you. 

You tossed a glance over your shoulder to see Diego righting himself as he stood up, looking down at you before shrugging, offering you his hand.

"Not a chance," you scoffed, knocking his hand away. You rolled slightly back, arched up, and used your hands to help you spring as you lept to your feet in one smooth movement. You landed with a thud of your boots, your feet spread apart, and arms raised in a boxer's stance. 

Diego had the decency to look slightly surprised at your obviously-dangerous athleticism. He shook himself slightly as he regarded you. 

Besides, he thought, taking in your stature, it's not as though you were any match for him. No way.

"Why would you get in my way, Umbrella douche?" You bit out harshly, glaring daggers at the knife-wielding Kraken.

"Come on, hot stuff," Diego shrugged. "If you know who I am, you gotta know it's not like I can just let you mug that man with … well, whatever you were doing to him." What he had seen you do in the alley seemed to be catching up with him as he cocked his head and queried, "What exactly were you doing to him, by the way? I mean, other than hurting a civilian?"

"A civilian?" You spat. "You don't know what you're talking about, do-gooder. If you knew what he was, you wouldn't be defending him so staunchly." 

“And what was he?” Diego pressed. 

“That dickless fuckhead would-be-rapist isn’t worth the shit on your shoe,” you snarled. “And you let him get away. Nice job, hero,” you sing-songed the last word mockingly, taking advantage of Diego’s lowered guard to level a swinging hit to his nose. 

Your punch landed with a satisfying crack, Diego stumbling back, shaking his head. 

“What in the ever-loving FUCK is wrong with you, lady?” Diego shouted. 

“Take your hits like a big boy. Aren’t you supposed to be some kind of ‘Big Deal?’ ” you asked, advancing toward Diego, fists raised. 

“Honey, my reputation precedes me for a reason,” Diego quipped back, blocking your next swing and making one of his own toward your gut. 

The two of you sparred in the alleyway, whirling and spinning in a very violent dance between two unwilling partners -- Diego, clearly pulling his punches, while you were obviously preoccupied with your rage at your escaped quarry. 

Diego flipped and spun and swung his fists with a speed that bordered on unnatural. His jabs and kicks annoyingly landed, as you were really only able to block just about every other hit. Fuck him for being so fast. 

So it was true, you thought, the superpower hype was real. Well, two could play that game. 

At Diego’s next hit, you caught his fist, allowing the contact to create the connection you needed, feeling for Diego and any underlying emotion that would be his undoing, before latching onto your favorite-- past the overstuffed confidence, you tasted simmering rage. Beyond that? A tiny prickle of … was that??…Ah, yes, the stinging, burns-so-good zip of lust... File that one away for later … and beneath it all lay Diego’s stammering, stuttering, suffocating fear. 

You dug your proverbial claws into it once you found it, bringing it to the surface, manifesting it into your signature smoky tendrils. 

Drag them down with their own fear. 

Diego’s eyes widened as he looked down to see his legs wrapped in what looked like snakes. Suddenly, his worst memories of fearful days under his father’s tyrannical reign were the only things in his brain. The shouting proclamation his own inadequacies in his father’s too-posh voice pounded within his skull. It was all he could think about -- Your presence before him seemed to dwindle, he couldn’t focus on you, try as he might-- when he was overcome with the feelings of every bad memory he had ever suffered through bearing down on him like the crushing weight of the ocean, pulling him under with the riptide of his own panic and inadequacies.

What the fuck was this shit? 

He pushed through his sudden indifference toward you to regard you, the woman stood before him. Diego’s fist clenched as he took in your own grip clutching around his wrist. Your eyes were closed as your face was screwed up in concentration. 

Repulsive. You were repulsive, he suddenly thought. How could he have cared so much about hurting you when his own terror and agitation sat heavy on his tongue, like ugly curdled cream?

But he hadn’t always felt this way-- not his usual modus operandi, was it? So what was this? Was this-- you?? Was this what you had done to that man?

Diego began to dredge himself through his own agitation, past his father’s lilting abuse… through the mire of never-quite-being-enough against Luther... dragging his proverbial feet through a bog of his own self-hatred. Just long enough to wrench his wrist from your grip, grabbing you by the shoulders and spinning around, slamming you probably a little too hard into the wall behind him. Your eyes snapped open as your head made a minor thwack off the  alleyway-- you had just enough time to tilt your head to the left as Diego brought one of his knives down, driving it into the wall a sliver from the space your face had previously occupied. 

Diego bore his weight on his toes, leaning his imposing height into and over you, panting and snorting heavily through his nose. You looked at his eyes behind his mask-- hardened flints of pissed-off-superhero glared back at you.

“W-wh-What the F-f-UCK was that?” Diego spit, lip curling over his teeth in a gruesome snarl. 

A fleeting flicker of shame passed through you. He hadn’t really done anything to deserve that, had he? Before you shook yourself out of it-- No! He let that rat-faced motherfucker get away! 

You fixed your face into an impassive mask of your own before you chirped, annoyingly, “What was what?” 

Diego chuckled mirthlessly, shaking his head.  “Nuh-uh. How did you do that?” Diego pressed, leaning even closer to you, if that were possible.

“Do what?” you chimed innocently, tilting your chin up, eyes meeting Diego’s from beneath your lashes. Maintaining your feigned ignorance.

“Don’t do that,” Diego snarled. “Don’t play dumb. I think we both know at this point-- you’re alot of things, and dumb isn’t one of them.” 

“You’d know all about playing dumb, wouldn’t you, pretty boy? Or for you, is it not really playing?” You reached up and ran a finger along his sharp jaw before tweaking his chin and dropping your hand back to your side. You sighed at Diego’s stone face. Honestly, it was so boring when they didn’t bite back.

“I don’t know what to tell you, cutie pie. I can’t help it. People are just drawn to me,” you quirked an eyebrow. “Or repulsed by me. I really haven’t decided.” You fluttered your eyelashes at him, ever the pretty picture. 

Diego leaned further into you, pressing your back further and further into the wall. All the while, his leather-gloved grip creaked around the handle of the knife he’d plunged into the wall next to your head as he gripped it tighter. 

“Huh,” he mused, scoffing at you lightly. “Ya know something, doll? I just don’t fuckin’ buy it.” 

“Babe, if you wanted to play bad cop, all you had to do was ask,” you smirked as the stone face slid from his features and gave way to "surprised face."

“Honestly, honey,” you slinked up Diego’s body, propping yourself onto your toes and brushing his lips ever-so-lightly with your own as you spoke into his mouth, “Did you really think you and your reject siblings were the only ones in this whole wide world with a little … taste … of power?” you purred. 

Ah, you thought, and there it was. 

The warming, zinging hum that your ability recognized as Diego’s lust crept through your fingertips that were currently resting on his chin. You were sure if you took the time to analyze exactly who was feeling what, that this feeling of craving wouldn’t be as one-sided as you’d otherwise have hoped. Diego was, you had to admit, very pretty -- for a man. 

The swirling galaxies in his midnight eyes regarded you with confusionangerwant.  Had you really just -- kinda kissed him?

You took advantage of Diego’s surprised state to knock his grip from your shoulder and shove -- hard. Diego toppled back, and you took off as fast as your enhanced body would carry you, cutting down the alley and away from your fascinatingly frustrating new rival. 

Diego took in your retreating form from his final resting place in the disgusting alley’s concrete. Slamming his fist into the rough-gravel ground, groaning out his frustration and anger.

You were gone. 

What were you? 

Were you really like him? Like the others?

---

Diego shuffled into Hargreeves Manor, determined to see who else was around. Surely they, or Pogo, would know if there were others like them out there. Had he been the only one to run into one? Was it all a hoax?

As he wandered into the cavernous, but simultaneously stuffy, living room, sure enough-- there was Klaus, sprawled across the couch, arm slung over his face in a restless nap. 

“Klaus!” Diego barked, startling the spindly man from his perch on the couch and onto the floor. 

Klaus looked balefully up at his brother from his spot on the carpet. “Jeeeesus, Diego, really? What do you want that made that necessary,” Klaus grumbled.

“Have you seen Pogo?” 

“I haven’t seen anything but the back of my eyelids for the last several hours, thank you very much,” Klaus replied, “Although, I did have a very good dream about running into an old friend of mine in the grocery store. He was always so convinced he was straight. But I think the rest of my dream calls bullshit.” Klaus chuckled to himself. 

“Yeah, whatever, man. I need to talk to Pogo,” Diego stressed, turning to leave the living room.

“Well, wait, wait, wait. What is so important?” Klaus queried, clambering up and lumbering across the room to catch Diego’s arm.

Diego sighed, facing his brother. 

“Do you think … Do you think we’re the only ones like us?” He asked.

“Well, there’s no one like you, brother,” Klaus chuckled, taking on a rumbling, Diego-esque mocking tone, “I’m Number Two!” He cackled to himself for a moment before coming back to himself with a sigh. “And honestly, we all know I’m an original. So I’m not sure I take your meaning.” 

“I mean… it couldn’t just be the seven of us, right? There’s a lot of other people in the world… it just makes sense others could do things like what we can?” Diego pressed.

Klaus started. He had never seen this look in his brother’s eye before. The unhinged mania of a fight? Sure. Crushing doubt? Obviously. But not this … fierce certainty buried beneath a question. This was new for Diego. He must be serious. 

Klaus blinked, regarding his brother, before slowly nodding. “I mean… sure… theoretically, there could be others. But I don’t know any. Why? Did you find someone?” 

Diego drew in a breath, unsure of how much he wanted to reveal to Klaus. After all, you were his nemesis. His pain in the ass. His whatever you were. 

Diego crossed the room again, back to the couch Klaus had previously occupied, before sitting down in a creak of leather and clink of blades still strapped to his harness. Propping his elbows on his thighs, he placed his head in his hands. 

“I don’t know. I think so? I found her while I was out patrolling, and I … I don’t really know how to describe what I saw.” 

Klaus placed himself next to his erstwhile sibling, tucking his feet beneath himself as he sat, reaching up to pat Diego on the shoulder.

“There, there, big guy. Just… tell me what happened,” Klaus crooned.

Diego launched into the story of finding you in the alley, choking the man with your smoke without even laying a hand on him. He described to Klaus how the two of you had fought, and how you had called the man a “would-be-rapist” before knocking Diego to the ground and making your getaway. 

“Well, she sounds hot.” 

“Helpful, Klaus,” Diego deadpanned. 

“Oh, isn’t it obvious, sweet Dee?” Klaus chimed at the end of Diego’s story. At his brother’s nonplussed look, Klaus continued. “She’s just like you! She likes to put on her Batman underoos and fight crime,” he chuckled. “Even if she is like… us… she clearly can do something different. But I think the most telling thing is how obviously into her you are.” 

Diego sputtered, “Wh-what?? I am not into that … psycho. Whatever she can do, that’s all I want to figure out.” 

“The lady doth protest too much,” Klaus sing-songed. “Whatever you say, brother. But I think the only way you’ll really figure it out is if you run into her again. I mean, we know dad had his secrets. If he knew about other powered children, don’t you think the Umbrella Academy would’ve been a lot bigger? The world is a big place. I’m sure there’s more out there, but, um… we just didn’t know about it until now?” 

Diego sighed deeply. “Oh, joy,” he muttered. Ignoring the tinge of excitement that passed through him at Klaus’s suggestion he seek you out. 

Klaus clapped his hands joyously, cuffing Diego’s shoulder, shaking him. 

“A nemesis, Diego! How sexy! How exciting!” 

---

Your encounter with one of the Umbrella Academy had left you slightly shaken, to say the least. You were so careful when you went out. No one missed those assholes you took care of. Honestly, you were doing the city a favor. 

Patrolling on any given night would yield one or two men who were plotting something less than savory. And all it took was a brush of skin to determine their true intentions. 

You sighed angrily, ripping off your bodysuit and stomping across your apartment to your shower, yanking back the curtain and twisting the knob forcefully. 

Hot water began to pour from the showerhead, steam filling your bathroom. You regarded your reflection in your bathroom mirror, a distinctly palmlike-bruise adorned your shoulder from where Diego had clutched it, not to mention the scrapes that lined your body from your repeated meetings with the concrete during your sparring. 

You met your own eyes in your reflection, regarding yourself as balefulness gave way to venom. 

Honestly, that toadlike little nobody had deserved what you were about to do to him. You had watched him from the back of the bar as he had annoyingly pressed his presence onto a poor girl who was just trying to enjoy her drink. Her drink that the toad had slipped something in when he thought she wasn’t looking. He even went so far as to grab her wrist with his stubby little hands. That was the final straw. 

You steeled yourself, letting the lustful, rowdy feeling of the other bar patrons that permeated the air like thick smoke take you over. Putting on your best, beguiling smile, you crossed the room and brushed your hand over the man’s bare arm, letting him feel the tingling want that you had absorbed. Simultaneously, you felt everything of his disgusting intent-- the hateful, possessive desire for the girl, the hurt he intended to inflict to trample his own inadequacies and sadness. 

Oh, yeah, you were right about this asshole. 

He looked up at you, disgusting gaze lingering on you, before forgetting all about his intended prey, pushing back from his barstool and venturing behind you out into the alley. 

The rest, as they say, is history. And an annoying vigilante type who had an ass that just wouldn’t quit once encased in black leather just had to rain on your proverbial pain parade. 

Diego Hargreeves… Of course you knew who he was. Everyone knew about the Umbrella kids. And you knew the man once-dubbed The Kraken was still doing his best Caped Crusader (sans cape) and kicking ass by night. Annoyingly self-righteous, really, you thought. Choosing ever-so-delicately to ignore the hypocrisy laden in your thought. Is that not, in effect, what you were doing? Albeit with a little more emotional manipulation and bloodshed. 

As you thought of Diego, your fingers traced the slim, sharp cut his knife had made in your cheek as it surged past you. 

You let the remnants of Diego’s rage that you had felt overtake you, amplified by your own, as you slammed your fist into the small mirror over your sink, letting the shards clatter to the ground around your feet.

Payback was a bitch, and so were you. You didn’t know if Diego Hargreeves was a praying man, but he had better hope to whatever deity would listen that he didn’t run into you again.

You wouldn’t be so kind twice, you told yourself, climbing into your shower and letting the blood and grit from your body swirl down the drain. 

---

As luck wouldn’t have it, your gods were decidedly not on your side. And clearly whatever deity you had mentally implored Diego to pray to was on vacation. 

Because you ran into that maddeningly beautiful dipshit, several times over the following weeks. He would do his best to bust up your party, stopping you from exacting your special brand of vengeance. You’d exchange a few quips and blows before running off before he could ask you the question you knew was burning in his mind. 

You managed to evade prolonged encounters with Diego until about another two weeks later. Too soon, honestly. 

Or not soon enough? God, your inner voice was desperate and annoying. 

You encountered Diego again while you were propped against the wall of a seedy dive on the other edge of town, assessing each person as they passed. While your power worked best if you could touch, some feelings were perfectly easy to pick up from a distance. 

So far, nothing. Just a few gross, horny bikers and depressive barflies. It was a maddeningly slow night. And you doubted you were needed here. 

Just as you were about to call it and head to another hotspot, a familiar prickle passed through you. You glanced up, across the street. 

Sure enough, on the neighboring rooftop, perched Diego Hargreeves in the flesh, surveying you like some kind of Great Value Nightwing. 

You sighed, pushing off the wall and crossing the street. Diego watched as you clambered up the fire escape to meet him on the rooftop. 

“Of course you would be here,” you chastised. “Are you fucking following me? I’ve been a good girl. Haven’t killed anyone in a week. I promise!” You held up your hands in mock surrender, coming to stand in front of Diego’s gloriously firm, leather-clad figure. 

“If you say so, Princess. Maybe I’m just here for a drink?” Diego cocked his head toward the shitty bar whose entrance you were haunting mere moments ago. 

“Doubtful, Underoos. I think…” you trailed off, circling Diego, tapping your finger to your chin in a pondering gesture. “I think you’re babysitting me. Making sure I don’t do your job for you and clean up the streets too well.” 

You ceased your vulture-like circling, coming to stand before Diego. His eyes bore into your own, once again partially obscured behind that stupid mask. As if you didn’t know what he looked like without it. Your eyes weren’t deceiving you when you saw Diego’s eyes flash a quick up-down of your body before resuming his stern visage. 

Oh good, you thought. You recognized the latent feelings buried beneath Diego’s anger. A new one brushed over you-- confusion… He still hadn’t figured you, or, more than likely, your power, out…

You weren’t left in suspense too long. 

“Tell me about what you can do,” Diego pressed, advancing toward you. You took a step back to maintain some distance… best if you can perpetuate some veil of advantage. 

“Ah, ah, ah, baby. It doesn’t work like that,” you chided. “You think I’m just going to spill all of my secrets because why? You’re cute? Try again. Ask nicely,” you smirked, pushing your lips into a tantalizing pout.

Diego rolled his eyes. You weren’t going to play fair? Fine, neither was he. Honestly, his fuse was too-fuckin-short for your shit. He wanted answers, even if he had to beat them out of you. Quick as a flash, he strode toward you, jumping into a flip and kicking you down to the ground upon his landing. 

You looked up at him, standing over your body as it lay on the gravelled rooftop, bringing your hand up to touch your jaw, where his boot had collided with your face not moments ago. 

You grinned widely, savagely, around bloodied teeth and split lips. "So that’s how we’re going to play? Do your worst, Big Deal. I like when it hurts."

With that, you swung your leg at Diego’s, causing him to topple beside you, where you promptly rolled over, coming to straddle his hips, bringing your hands to his wrists, the direct contact allowing you to bring his fear to the forefront. 

Just as you were about to choke him with the smoke of his own fear, Diego surged upright, his arms breaking free from the grip of your wrists, his own hands coming to close around your throat. He squeezed insistently, enough to break your concentration-- the smoke dissipating as soon as it had come. With that, he had managed to roll the two of you over, you flat on your back as one of his thighs came to rest between yours. 

You gasped, looking up at Diego with fiery shock looming in your eyes. 

“Wow,” you rasped, “I told you before-- if you wanted to play bad cop, all you had to do was ask.” 

Diego removed one hand from your throat, bringing it to his own head and ripping off his flimsy excuse for a mask. He regarded you with nacreous, tarpit eyes that glowed and glittered with the streetlights, his breath coming in ragged, uneven puffs through his sinfully full lips. His cropped hair was glistening with sweat borne equally from the heat of the night and your encounter. 

“Baby, I think you owe me an explanation first,” He pressed, squeezing your throat lightly, free hand pulling a knife from his harness that he spun in his fingers while gazing down at you. 

You whined, rolling your hips against where his thigh rested between your legs. 

“This would be so much more fun if you’d just do things my way,” you pouted at Diego. 

“Maybe I would, if you would bother to tell me what your way is,” Diego retorted.

“I could tell you, or I could show you,” you purred, rolling your hips again. “I’m all about more fun.” 

Diego sighed. The familiar buzz of lust radiating from your skin-- or was it his own-- that always seemed to hang over your encounters was pressingly prevalent and it was all he could do to not just give in. He gritted his teeth, and shook his head. 

“No. Come on. I know what you’re doing… whatever it is. Just … tell me what it is you can do. Tell me why you’re hurting those people,” he implored.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, using your free hands to knock his grip from your throat and coming to a sitting position, as Diego remained crouched over you. 

“All you hero-types. You’re no fun. You want to know what I can do? That pleasant little hum you feel? That’s you. Well, it’s me. But it’s you. I don’t make anyone feel what they don’t already… but I can use it against them. That first night at the bar? That,” you shuddered, “That rat was going to force himself on some poor girl. I could feel his every feeling as he was preying on her. I had to stop it. It’s simple, honeybunch. I do what you do, but better. I’ll make them choke in it, their own fear, their self-hatred, their inadequacy, their lust, I’ll drown them in it, and they’ll thank me for it. Because I’m nothing if not merciful,” you gritted out. 

Diego’s mind reeled, jaw slack from your confession. He knew it! You were an empath, an enhanced emotional manipulator. Except you seemed to be able to manifest emotions into something tangible, something harmful. 

Suddenly, the weight of your confession seemed to crush Diego, you had exploited every feeling of his during your encounters to gain an upper hand. And he hadn’t truly known about it until now. 

You felt the surge of his rage, his disgust, his fear with you before he could say it-- 

“You c-can’t-- you can’t do that,” Diego said. “Kililng people who haven’t even done anything yet? It’s w-wrong. Y-you’re w-wro-wrong,” He stuttered out, clearly distressed, but advancing even further into your space.

“As opposed to you?” You bit out. “You wait until someone’s already hurting or hurt someone else to do something. How are you any better? Who are you to judge me,” you spit through gritted teeth. 

“You’re a killer,” Diego pressed, pushing back from you and coming to stand.

“Sticks and stones. So are you. But I don’t hate you for it,” you snarled, jumping into a standing position, squaring your shoulders before Diego’s imposing form. 

“You could always work with me,” Diego offered, “ We could take what you can do and just… re-tool it a bit.” 

You ground out a harsh laugh. 

“Unlikely, you absolutely patronizing dick. You don’t want anything to do with me other than to change me, control me. You’re just like them.” 

With that, you unleashed a slew and flurry of attacks on Diego, swinging your hips around to level a kick at his gut, knocking him to his knees, where your arm was ready to strike a heavy blow against his cheek, your rage fueling the unnatural strength behind the hit. 

Diego sprawled against the concrete of the rooftop, half conscious after blows you’d dealt him. 

You stood over Diego now, looking down at his prone form. 

“I would never want anyone who only means to stifle me. To take me apart until there’s nothing left. Never.” You spit a glob of bloodied saliva at Diego’s feet, leaving him in his semi-conscious, battered state-- the guilt only slightly prickling you. 

His fear-- choking on half-gasped words from behind the tremulous task of tripping over his own tongue-- followed you like a stuttering stormcloud. It stung. Knowing that he was afraid of you.

---

Okay. The guilt was more than slight. 

All he had wanted to do was help, right? 

Years alone with your power, the sting of Adler’s rejection as a child, it all weighed down on you like the crushing magnitude of Atlas. You didn’t really want to hurt him. 

You sighed, resolute. You just needed to make sure.

With that, you headed out in the storm. Headed toward Diego. 

---

The rain pounded on the walls of the Fighting Lion, plunking heavily like half-hewn nails tossed onto the small window in Diego’s back bedroom. He could hear as it landed on the brick, the wet stone and stormy atmosphere making the air thick with the scent of sagebrush and rain. 

A kind of whoosh passed through the room, prompting him to turn from where he was folding his laundry on the bed to see you propped against the door, legs crossed at the ankles, looking every bit as if you belonged. 

“Wow, Big Deal. Nice digs,” you said as you sauntered in the room, staring at the case at the foot of the bed that was full of Diego’s knives. “Not what I’d expect coming from a dude who hails from the city’s biggest mansion. But still -- homey.” 

Diego ignored the jab about his upbringing in favor of the real question.

“How did you get in here?” He asked, seemingly --and to you, maddeningly-- disinterested in your presence as he continued stacking his paired socks into their rightful place in his bureau. 

“Uh, have you seen this place? It’s not exactly rigged with ‘Entrapment’ levels of security,” you snarked, folding your arms across your chest.

“Does that make you a cat burglar? Are you Catherine Zeta-Jones in this scenario?” Diego glanced at you from his socks, cocking a strong eyebrow. 

“If you want me to be, sweetie,” you shrugged. “But, uh -- and don’t take this the wrong way, Diego, but you don’t exactly have anything I’d want to steal.” 

“Then I’ll amend the question. What are you doing here?” Diego asked, finally turning to fully face you, taking in your form as you stood by his bed. The sight causing a pleasantly-unpleasant little something to prickle across his skin. 

No, no, it’s not like that, he chided himself. Besides. You were an absolutely monumental pain in his ass. And his head. And basically every other body part of his you came in contact with. Nope, nope... Don’t think about her body parts “coming into contact” with anything of yours, he scolded. 

“Aw, well now, Big Deal. Maybe I just missed you?” You mused. 

“Doubtful. Did you come back to kick my ass with your freaky little homicidal chokehold some more?” Diego snapped.

Ouch. Maybe you had gone too far in your last little encounter. After all, wasn't that why you were there? To check on your favorite knife-wielding antagonist? To make sure you hadn't actually hurt him?

But what came out instead was--

"Is there any other kind of chokehold?" You hummed, arching your brow. 

Before he could stop himself, Diego retorted, “Based on our last meeting, I think you know there is." 

Momentarily stunned into silence, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks at the memory of his hands on your throat, you dropped your arms from where they were crossed at your chest down to your sides, hands flexing nervously. You chuckled.

"Heh. As tempting as that offer is, pretty boy, I only came to make sure I didn't ring your bell too bad."

Diego leaned against his dresser, tilting his head back and looking down his perfect, strong nose at you. 

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I must be going fuckin' deaf. Did you just say you slunk in here with your little kitten tail between your legs to say you were sorry?" Diego snorted, obviously pleased with himself as he saw the obvious fluster cross your face.

Okay, now he was pissing you off. You came here with good will and he sasses you? Two can play at that, as you two so often do...

"You must be fuckin' deaf, dipshit. I didn't say I was here to say I was sorry. I did say I wanted to make sure I didn't kick your sorry ass into oblivion. Which, you're obviously fine, so I'll just be going." You crossed Diego's room, breezing for the door.

Honestly, why did you think this was a good idea? Stupid, stupid, stupid…

Diego caught your arm as you passed him in your hurried attempt at an exit. You gave a half-hearted tug to pull your arm from Diego's grip, surprised to find how firm it was. You turned your head to meet Diego's gaze, throat closing around your sudden nerves. Diego's eyes were molten, boring into you with quizzical questions and low-burning heat. His grip on your arm afforded you an insight into the unique blend that was his confusion and simmering passion.

"What are you doing?" You asked.

"Come on," Diego drawled. "You clearly know what I'm feeling. But I have no idea what you're feeling. You have me at a disadvantage. I don't like it."

"Every time we meet, I have you at a disadvantage," you snarked. At the brief hurt that flashed across Diego's face, you sighed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. I meant what I said when I told you I was coming to check on you … I just--" 

You looked down at your feet, the laces in your boots suddenly incredibly interesting to you. Diego's other hand gently gripped your chin, his thumb pressing into its apex, fingers curled beneath your jaw.

"D-don't do that-- keep going. Tell me what you're feeling for once," Diego implored, eyes meeting yours once more, lips ever-so-close to yours. “Please,” he added, softly.

Had your heart been thudding like this the whole time?? Was your jacket always this hot? All you could hear was the pounding sheet of rain, pressing itself into your brain, growing fuzzier. Diego's proximity to your person was decidedly distracting. Wholeheartedly overwhelming. 

Could he really not tell what you were thinking? You were certain at this point it must be written all over your face. Were you not being obvious?? Your burning ardor for him creeping through every inch of your person, drowning your intentions and better sensibilities in anything and everything Diego Hargreeves. You swallowed the lump in your throat before speaking.

"I'm feeling-- was feeling … guilty. The last time I saw you.. I h-hit you...  pretty hard. So, you win. I guess I am here to tell you I'm sorry." You brushed your fingers softly over the bruise that adorned his prominent, proud cheekbone. "I… I just wanted you to be okay. Because I think you were just trying to help. And that's stupid. It's stupid. I'm sorry," you hurriedly stammered. 

Diego relinquished his grip on your arm, allowing his hand to travel down your side until it met your waist. He cocked his head and studied your eyes with his own mercurial ones-- searching for any hint of mistruth in your confession, but seemingly finding none. 

After all, he too knew the honesty behind words that struggled to come out.

"You were… worried about me? You?"

"Let's not make a big thing of this, big boy. You're obviously fine. I shouldn't have come… An honest mistake. Won’t happen again," you started to turn your head, breaking his gaze. 

But Diego's grip on your chin firmed, forcing you to look at him again before surging forward and crushing his lips to yours. 

And, oh, this was bliss-- you were just sure of it. Your yearning manifested itself in the hand you had placed on Diego's cheek, cupping your hands to the sides of his face before dragging them back to thread through the closely-cropped hair at the nape of his neck, then passing your hands up through his longer hair toward the top of his head and tugging. You took advantage of the gasp Diego elicited at that sensation, sweeping your tongue into his mouth. 

Your shared lust bled through your connected skin, hands on faces and elsewhere…  washing over you both like warm static, a pleasant buzz akin to drinking just a little too much champagne. 

Diego’s hands tugged at the hem of your rain-dampened hoodie, tugging it over your head. Your newly-exposed skin prickled with goosebumps at the sudden chill. You had run over here in the rain, after all. Diego’s darkened, honeyed gaze reverently took in your form. 

Never one to waste an opportunity, you took the break in action as your chance to respond in kind-- peeling his skin-tight black crewneck shirt from his own gloriously-sculpted body. 

The two of you stood, staring at each other’s exposed torsos, ragged breaths dragging through the air of passion so-stifling the room like incense you’ve left burning for too long. 

Diego stared at your chest, breasts heaving from behind the scrap of lace that constituted your bralette-- were those piercings that made your nipples poke so prominently through the lace? WIth this realization, Diego felt himself harden. He lunged for you with a growl, scooping you by the waist and dropping you with a bounce onto his bed. 

His mouth latched onto your throat, sucking insistently while his powerful hands rested at the edges of the delicate lace trim of your bra, passing almost reverently across your ribcage. 

You gasped as he brushed a thumb over your nipple, feeling yourself growing wet beneath your leggings. You hmm’d a whine as Diego’s mouth found that spot on your throat, his thumb still rolling circles over your nipple. 

“D-Diego,” you gasped, sucking in air like you’d never properly breathed before.

“Yeah, baby?” 

“Take it off,” you glanced down at the scrap of lace that adorned your chest. “Please,” you intoned, sweetly. 

“Since you asked so nicely,” Diego said,” creeping his fingers beneath the lace to lift it off your skin. Suddenly, with that preternatural speed he’d come to recognize as a gift of those who were enhanced, like himself, you seized his wrist and squeezed. 

“It wasn’t meant to be nice,” you ground out. “Take. It. Off. Now.” 

With that, you released his wrist, and Diego gripped the lace where it rested beneath your breasts with this two hands and tugged, ripping your bralette cleanly in two, exposing your tits to his roving gaze. 

“There you go, Big Deal,” you preened in satisfaction, taking your own hands from where they had previously been resting along his strong abdomen, trailing them down to the top of his jeans. You popped the button on his fly and began tugging his zipper down, before Diego caught your hand as quickly as you had just done to him. 

“I’ve got this, baby,” Diego assured. 

With that, he brought his mouth down to your left breast, swirling his tongue around your nipple, taking the hand still clutching your wrist and planting it above your head. He released your wrist, trailing his hand, down your side until it met the waistband of your leggings. He pressed his fingers beneath the waistband, raking his fingers under your panties, to where you wanted him most. 

As he dragged a finger through your wetness, you gasped out a keening sigh. Diego’s long fingers working magic against your center, rubbing up and down your slit before pressing one, long finger inside. He lifted his mouth from your breast, pressing it to yours to swallow your moan with a searing kiss.

After a few more moments, Diego slid his finger from your center, retracting his hand from your pants, his other hand coming to meet it, peeling your leggings and panties from you in one fluid motion. You lifted and wiggled your hips to assist him. As soon as the leggings were free from your legs, you wasted no time in wrapping your bare legs around Diego’s waist, locking your ankles behind him and pulling him to you, dragging your hands up his neck and into his hair, hissing in pained pleasure as you rolled your hips against Diego’s still denim-clad hardness. 

Diego groaned as he felt your hardened nipples press against his chest, the microscopic bite of cold from your piercings as they touched his warm skin made him sigh.

The room felt like it was bordering on a hundred degrees, the previously champagne-drunk feeling of your shared lust now replaced with a frantic urge to taste and mark every inch of the other as their own. 

As you continued to grind your hips into Diego, he kissed you deeply, tongue sliding into your mouth, running along your own tongue and teeth, tasting every bit of your want for him as he succumbed to the heated buzz of the room. 

Your power had its benefits, he reasoned, if it meant this would feel so… resplendent. 

The mutuality of your shared passion was enough to do you in. You couldn’t be imagining that Diego wanted you as much as you wanted him. If that wasn’t the case, you both wouldn’t be burning like this, writhing atop his bed with pent-up passion and aggression. 

Diego broke his hands from where they had previously been digging bruises into your hips, coming up onto his knees to start shucking his own jeans and underwear off. 

And oh, he thought, you were a vision. As he looked at you while he stripped himself, he was overcome. Your half-lidded gaze swimming with hazy, unfulfilled promises, swirling lazily like the drizzle of sinfully sweet syrup over something forbidden. Your lips were flushed, swollen and lightly bruised from the punishing pace of your shared kisses. Your wickedly luscious curves and the glimmering slick between your thighs on display for only him. In this moment, he felt he could die under whatever your power would dish out, if it meant he died feeling like this. 

Now bared to you in his entirety, Diego positioned himself once more between your legs, his impressive length sliding to where he had guided it along your opening. 

You tossed your head back, eyes closed at the glorious feeling of his skin finally meeting yours where you wanted it most… but, still, it wasn’t enough. 

“Di- eh - go,” you panted, your glimmering gaze meeting his lustrously darkened one. “P-please, I need it. I need you,” you cried piteously, clutching his shoulders and grinding your hips once more against him.

Diego chuckled, only to happy to oblige. With a guiding hand and a smooth flex-and-thrust of his hips, Diego entered you with a powerful, needed thrust. You cried out, sound going straight to his cock, twitching from its rightful place inside of you. 

“There, now, baby,” Diego crooned, bringing his mouth back to yours and humming into your open lips. “Doesn’t that feel ... So. Much. Better?” He punctuated each of his last few words with hard, firm thrusts of his hips. 

You nodded, eagerly fusing your mouths together, rolling your hips in kind to meet Diego’s sweet, but punishing thrusts. 

“After all that shit you pulled with me,” DIego ground out, “It’s nice to know-- this is what you really wanted. Fuck--” he broke off as you clenched around him just right. “This is what you needed.” 

You whined your assent, keening and high-pitched. 

“Mmmm, I want y-you, as much as you want me,” you gasped out, Diego’s brutal thrusting brushing your clit with his pubic bone, bringing you ever closer, closer, closer to that teetering edge. You lifted yourself up to balance on one hand and meet Diego’s face where he was hovering above you, your sweat-slicked bodies pressing into one another with a delicious, filthy heat. You looked into his eyes, your jaw slack with the stupidly good feeling of everything he was doing to you. 

You turned your head to face his sculpted shoulder, and grazed your teeth there, biting into the apex of his arm. Diego hissed, obviously pleased with the feeling, bringing his hand to your neck, fingers wrapping around your throat and tearing your teeth away from his shoulder, guiding your mouth back to his with the pads of his fingers lightly pressing into your airway.

You gasped, the combined feeling of his kiss, his pressing, insistent touch, and his cock inside you brushing repeatedly against that spot of your inner walls causing you to clench, crying out your sudden, gushing release. 

Diego guided your head back to his pillow, clenching his fist, the same battered-knuckled boxer’s fist that had previously clutched your throat, now clutched around his bedframe as he hammered his final thrusts, pounding into you until he met his release, groaning as he came down from his sudden, bursting high. 

He sighed into your neck, the lovingly sticky heat of your sweaty bodies pressed together as he eased himself from you, pulling you into his side.

You sighed in contentment. 

Was everything Diego Hargreeves did punctuated with such beautiful, forthright power?

---

You both lie in the after, bodies pressed firmly together. It would have been romantically intimate had the primary motivator not been the lack of space on Diego's too-small mattress squeezed along the wall in his room. 

Nevertheless, you lie there in complete contentment, basking in the afterglow and Diego's delightfully even, rhythmic breathing.

Said lothario had his head turned into your cheek, nose brushing against your hair. His arm around you, curling you to him and trailing his fingers up and down your side at a slow, steady pace.

Why couldn't it always be like this? 

After all, fire doused with water still burns brightly at one time, but loses its penchant for destruction, tampered in cool, calming depths and leaving behind cooling steam. So, too, had you and Diego drawn a peaceable, but joyfully sweaty truce. 

In that moment, you could see yourself loving him. You know he'd let you, if you gave him enough time and enough of yourself. The man had not had enough love given to him in his life-- he fought for it, tooth and nail. And had come up woefully empty, like clutching at soft sand that slips through your fingers. He'd had the love of his siblings, sure. But this was -- understandably-- different. You recognized a chasm in him that you often thought you'd never mend within yourself. 

But he was so deserving of love. Whereas you? Well, the jury was still out. 

When you think of Diego, you couldn't help but think of strength. Assuredness. Agility. His aura burned red in your deeper sentiments. Power. You do associate his memory with annoyance, sure, but also a biting wit that he so-oft concealed. And an endearing sentimentality. And an iron will suffused with stubbornness.  

You had gleaned some of this from your foray into exploring his emotions, sure. But you don't use your power at every turn. The rest of it was every impression Diego had devastatingly left you with. You had learned so much of him, you yearned to share a piece of yourself, similarly eager for acceptance. Which then prompted you to share--

“You know,” you piped up in the dark, “You remind me a bit of the main character of my favorite books series-- Ever hear of ‘The Dark Tower?’ You know, the legendary Gunslinger?” 

Diego scoffed at that.

“Guns are for pussies, real men throw knives,” he stated primly, but still unable to conceal the smile in his voice.

“That sounds a little rehearsed, Big Deal. But I’ll let it slide. Besides, you don’t know what you’re missing,” you acquiesced, turning your head to face him, your noses brushing.

“Yeah, sorry, I’m not into all that bookworm stuff. Cuz, ya know, I’m not a fuckin’ virgin,” he chuckled. Obviously pleased with his middle school-grade burn. 

You met his eyes, yours widening in mock surprise. “Oh no?” you gasped. “Well, then why do you dress like one?”

Honestly, it had to be some kind of world record, how fast Diego’s face fell.

"I'm kidding, big boy. You know I dig the black leather," you crooned. Ever eager to smooth the waters of this moment, of his now furrowed brow, back to the placid lake it had been.

"You're goddamn right, you do," Diego chuffed, his grin now prominent in his voice.

You looked at him, your eyes travelling between his shining, ochre eyes and his full lips.

"I do not aim with my hand; he who aims with his hand has forgotten the face of his father. I aim with my eye. 

“I do not shoot with my hand; he who shoots with his hand has forgotten the face of his father. I shoot with my mind.

"I do not kill with my gun; he who kills with his gun has forgotten the face of his father. I kill with my heart," you recited.

Diego regarded you for a moment before brushing his lips across yours, kissing you warmly.

"What was that?" He asked.

"'The Dark Tower,'" you replied. "What? I like to read. You really do remind me of him. Surly, but just. Lost, but ever-searching. Pinpoint accuracy. Deadly. But hasn't lost hope." 

Diego kissed you again, running his hand down your body beneath the covers to grip your bum and roll your body over his, urging you to tarry with him on another burning exploration of one another's bodies.

Yes, you think, sighing as Diego's teeth graze that spot on your neck, his warm palm on your breast. You could easily fall in love with him… if you let yourself. You were probably more than halfway in love with him already.

Oh, no.

---

You awoke to the early-morning sun peeking weakly behind the remnants of fat, overstuffed rainclouds from the night before, purpling the sky as sunlight met grey. 

You took in Diego’s, sweet sleeping form-- his long lashes fringing his sweetly-closed eyes, his cropped hair mussed from a night of tugging, rolling, writhing. He breathed deeply, evenly, peaceably, as evidenced by the repetitive motion of his muscled torso, his long-fingered hands resting along his stomach. 

You couldn’t do this. Couldn’t taint someone so noble and beautiful with your special brand of poisonous manipulation. 

You couldn’t stop yourself as you spoke softly to the sleeping man beside you, coming to sit on the edge of his bed and brushing one hand through his soft hair. 

“You wanted to know about my power? It’s a curse. You think I want this? This? It’s isolation, Diego-- it’s eternal damnation. I shouldn’t be able to do what I can do …  No one should. It’s not a gift, it’s a curse. And it dooms me to a life alone,” your voice cracks as your breath catches in your throat, hitching over tears that were now, suddenly pooling in your eyes. “There’s no trust. It’s what I … It’s what I deserve.” 

With that, you left Diego’s room. Leaving him to wake alone to a cold one-half of his bed, fingers clutching over air and the warm memories of the night before. He blinked in confusion, the sting of your rejection settling beneath his skin. 

---

When you saw Diego again, it was nearly a month after your last… encounter. The sharp knife of anxiety and longing you so regularly felt in yourself since that day, you recognized immediately as emanating from Diego as you watched him limp away from what you assumed was a particularly nasty fight. 

“Big Deal!” You shouted across the street and through the darkness. 

Diego’s head whipped up, head turning to the direction of your voice, before meeting your gaze. He shook his head, looked away, and kept walking. Away from you. 

Ouch. 

Honestly, you could understand why he would. You had done the same to him a month ago. Walked away. But the pinging sting of his rejection dug at you, like glass into the thin skin between your knuckles. 

All you had ever wanted was for other people to understand. But mostly, now, you realized… You really only cared that Diego understood. 

You took off after him, enhanced speed helping you catch up to his limping form outside of a boarded-up, long-closed bar. 

“Diego!” You called, stopping in front of him, causing him to halt.

“What could you possibly want with me, after all this time?” Diego spit.

“I.. I deserve that, Big Deal. I do,” you glanced at your boots, scuffing the toe into the pavement. “Please, just… hear me out?” 

You looked up at Diego. Really looked at him. His beautiful, tawny skin damp with sweat from a fight, his usually bright and mischievous eyes sunken under the weight of tired bags that sat beneath them. He looked drawn, more exhausted than you remember. You caught sight of a particularly nasty, jagged cut on the side of his neck that had clearly only recently stopped bleeding, the splotching clot like a raised, splintering cut from a large cat’s claws. A particularly nasty bruise was already forming around his left eye and onto his beautifully-sculpted, prominent cheek. 

You rushed to meet him, your fingers coming to brush along his cheeks, mindful of the bruise. He closed his eyes at your touch, lashes fanning downward in defeat. 

“Who hurt you? What did they do, Big Deal? Who the fuck did this? If anyone hurt you, I would make them hurt. I’ll make them pay”

Diego dropped the knife you now noticed was previously-clutched in his right hand, bringing his hand to meet your wrist. 

“Don’t do that,” he whispered.

“Don’t do what? Kill the fucker who hurt you? Fine, I’ll just break their knees--” you started, before Diego shushed you.

“No,” he said, “Shut the fuck up. D- Don’t act like you give a shit. Someone who gives a shit wouldn’t bounce for a fuckin’ month. Not after a night like that.” 

Your hand left Diego’s face. 

“I… I deserve that,” you said. “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.” And with that, you plopped yourself onto the pavement, sitting on the sidewalk at Diego’s feet. Annoying? Sure. Dramatic? Sure. But if something is stupid and it works, then it isn’t stupid. 

Diego sighed at you, rolling his eyes before coming to sit beside you, gasping out in pain and clutching an obviously bruised rib or two on his way down. 

“Fine. Tell me what the fuck happened. Why’d you go?”

“Diego--” you started… “I-- I can’t be with someone when I’m like this. It never works,” you confessed. 

“Like what?” He pressed, bringing his hand to your knee. 

“I’m-- I’m a monster,” you cried. “Adler knew it. Everyone I meet knows it. It’s only a matter of time before you know it too. I just… I don’t know how to stop.” The tears you thought you could hold at bay were now creeping up and causing your throat to close around your words of contrition. 

“You’re not--” Diego began, but you silenced him with a harsh wave of your hand. 

“You don't understand. You wanted to know how it works? I’ll tell you. The power works based on the other's emotion, sure. I amplify what they feel. Cripple them with it, even. But that's not all… it only works, really works, if it's something I can draw on. They feel what I want them to feel-- because I feel it too …" you admitted. “Everything I ever do to someone else I can only do because I know how it feels. If I want someone to hurt, they’ll hurt… I -- I don’t want to do that to you, too.” 

“You won’t. Not with me,” Diego pressed. 

“And how can you be sure? Even now, I feel how pissed you are at me for leaving. It’s humming beneath your skin. I can feel it.” 

Diego nodded, picking up the knife he had previously dropped and beginning to spin it around in his hand. 

“I know it because I felt it. When we were together,” he sighed. “We both, we both can do these things. Anyone else would piss themselves if it was turned against them. But you look the danger of what I am in the face, and you laugh. When we’re together, we’re matched. The way that room felt? I know what that was.” 

You sat, stunned at Diego’s read of the situation. 

“I take back what I said the first night we met,” you said. At the question in his eyes, you continued, “You’re not dumb. That was… that was… something. But I know how to flex my power. I know what fells all men. Fear is a powerful emotion." 

Diego smiled at you. 

“I hate to break it to you, princess, but I’m not scared of you. I know you think I am, but I’m not. And you know what's even stronger than fear? Love."

You looked at Diego, blinked. He blinked back. You then turned your head with a mocking, retching, gag.

"Jesus, Big Deal. They teach you ‘Hokey Catchphrases 101’ at Dysfunctional Superhero Camp?"

“Hey,” he jostled your shoulder with his. “You know I’m right.” 

You stood, offering Diego your hand.

“Come on, big boy. Walk me home?” 

Diego acquiesced, coming to stand with a stifled grunt. 

“You’re lucky I heal quickly.” 

With that, the two of you walked down the street. You matched Diego’s stride, mindful of his injuries. As you walked side-by-side, your fingers brushed. Before you could stop yourself or think better of it, you took Diego’s hand. 

When you reached your door, you turned to Diego, fiddling with your keys. 

“Everyone’s distinct, you know? Everyone feels differently. Wears their hearts on their sleeve, so to speak. But with everyone, it’s a different emotion. Some flaunt pride. Some are more passive. Do you want to know what I feel when I see you?” 

Diego glanced down to where your hands were still joined. He brought them up to his mouth, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. 

“I want whatever you’ll tell me. You’re such an open book,” he admitted sarcastically. You rolled your eyes.

“Come on, I’m being serious here. You feel... you feel...” 

At Diego’s urging look, you continued. 

"You feel like warmth. Like I could wrap myself in you and never feel the biting cold of my heart again. And when you're not around? The absence of you is worse than any feeling I could ever exploit. I hate it when you aren't here."

Diego stared at you in silence for a moment, before he spoke, “I really think you should open the door now and let me take you inside.” 

You smiled, pleased that your honest confession had gone over well, the smile morphing into a smirk. 

“As you wish, Big Deal.”

And in the morning? Well, In the morning, you and Diego were still wrapped up in one another. 

You looked into Diego’s swimming, honey-and-tar eyes, tracing your palms down the sides of his jaw and cupping his cheeks as you told him, “You have my whole heart. It’s yours -- crush it, hold it, bury it in whatever you feel ... Do whatever you want with it, I don’t care. Just say you want it-- that you want me.” 

“I want you.” With that, he kissed you deeply.

---

You were a master of emotional manipulation. To do that, you had to have a decent handle on your own emotions. For years, you’d rested on your own laurels of your mastery of self, indulging only in the most passing of forays into others’ feelings for the sake of your own.

So why on Earth were you so fucking nervous? Why couldn’t you get it under control?

Yet, here you were, hand in Diego’s, fingers laced, on your way to Hargreeves Manor to meet his siblings, months after your mutual confessions of want. The two of you had been inseparable. 

Diego clearly sensed your unease, because he turned to you, squeezing your fingers in his own, planting a sweet kiss to your forehead. 

“They’ll like you,” he promised. 

“How can you be so sure?” You worried, trying to keep all of them straight in your mind based on Diego’s stories, anecdotes and descriptions. 

“Because I like you, and they love to annoy me. So they’ll definitely want to buddy up,” he chuckled with a shrug. “Baby, you’ll be fine.”

With that, you found yourself standing in the ornate living room with five nonplussed persons who introduced themselves to you one by one.

As the largest of the group approached you, you beat him to the punch.

“You must be Luther,” you said, pumping your arm in a handshake where his hand comically dwarfed yours. 

Luther blinked. “How did you know?” 

"Easy,” you said, “You look like a 'Number One.’ " 

Luther straightened, obviously pleased. "Important?" he asked.

"Self-important."

This caused the lithe one with the smudged eyeliner who had introduced himself with a wink as, “Klaus, darling,” to howl with laughter. 

“She’s fuckin’ got your number, Luther,” he gasped out between his chuckles. He turned to the seemingly-empty air beside himself and said, “I know! She is fun!” 

The group found itself sitting around the living room on the various, overstuffed furnishings, in a fun little Q-and-A circle, which was only getting easier all the time, as you found the Hargreeves siblings’ obvious bond to be so endearing. The glamorous one you knew to be Allison had queried about your power, curious as to how you and Diego had met. 

Diego had recounted your first meeting to the group, and proffered an explanation of your powers with, "She takes the idea of 'wrapped up in your emotions' and makes it literal."

“And how did this come about?” Klaus queried, gesturing his long fingers between you and Diego. “It’s not like that first meeting was full of warm-and fuzzies.”

“I don’t know … We’ve …  run into each other a few times,” you offer with a shrug and a shy grin. 

Klaus clapped his hands, a large grin adorning his face.

“Oh-ho! I like this. Diego’s girlfriend beats the shit out of him on the regular!” Klaus happily sang to the massive living room. “Or is that how you two, you know, keep it exciting?” he intoned to Diego in what must have been the world’s loudest and worst attempt at a whisper.

“She does not beat the shit out of me,” Diego protested, rolling his eyes at his brother’s swaggering antics.

“Right, right, you beat the shit out of each other. Honestly, I get it. Kinda hot. No judgment from me, you crazy kids,” Klaus smiled and held up his hands in surrender, flashing you the “Hello” and “Goodbye” on his palms. “Diego told me about you the day after you first met. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think about it myself when I’m ever-so-alone at night,” he added with a wink. 

All you could do was chuckle. Who couldn’t love Klaus Hargreeves? 

After that, the questioning from the gathered siblings dissipated into a casual little party, with people pairing off to speak in groups of just them, and with drinks from the open bar being passed around amongst the siblings. Even Five. If you were honest, it was strange to see a thirteen-year-old boy drink frozen margaritas. But you’d had to remind yourself that he was actually older than all of you. Honestly, you’d tried not to think about it too hard. 

In between drinks, you found yourself engaged in silly banter with Klaus and Vanya, laughing at Klaus’s stories of eating bagels from dumpsters and his bantering memories with their brother Ben. You responded in kind with stories of your own-- making your elementary school teachers believe they’d had crushes on one another by exploiting their repressed desires, making your classmates piss themselves every Halloween with some prank or another ...

While Vanya was a bit more reserved with her amusement, you’d caught a smile playing at her lips. Klaus outright howled. 

“Oh, you truly belong here, don’t you? Reggie would’ve haaaated you,” he gestured at the stern portrait of their father. “Which means you’re absolutely perfect for our dear Diego,” Klaus proclaimed, lacing his fingers through your own. 

With that, Klaus turned to you with a conspiratorial giggle and hmm'd into your ear, "You know what they say, peaches. 'A scrub is a guy who thinks he's fly.' And if we're being honest, Diego deeeeeeefinitely thinks he's fly." 

You laughed, choking on your sip of margarita. You’d never felt a kind of discordant unity like this one. 

With Diego’s family… with Diego, you felt like you truly did belong.

As you and Diego lay together in bed after the day with his family, he’d asked if you felt comfortable.

“Of course, love.” You pressed a small kiss to the tip of Diego’s nose, nuzzling your own against his. “They were wonderful. You’re wonderful. Thank you for sharing all of this with me.”

Diego gazed lovingly at you, eyes, a deep, endless pit of an eclipse, brimming with golden honey streaks of mischief. 

“I can’t wait to share everything with you,” he whispered, pressing a kiss into your shoulder and settling beside you comfortably. 

Ah. So that’s what that warm, soft, cotton-y, cloud-like feeling you had begun to experience since you’d began your relationship with Diego was ... Comfort. Funny how it blended so seamlessly into the burning, cinnamon-tinged, blooming one you’d come to recognize as his love.

---

Tagging: @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa @winters-buck @qveenbvtch @forever-rogue @ali-cide @fleetwoodmactshirt @stellarkyun @zeldasayer @ayeayecaptaingally @nappingtopknot @holographic-carmen @mandaloriane @pascalplease @phoenixhalliwell @white-wolf-buckaroo @melon-eyes @pancakepike @noturjacky @johnc0nstantine @amarachoren @outrebanx @yespolkadotkitty @agentpike @cryptkeepersoul @netflixandzayn @deadpoolcouldshootme @manchuria @flhorah @halerune @spideymanreads @athousandbuckys @imagining-constantly @dovesgrangers @ravenoussss @pyrosag @rzrcrst​ 

[jennagrinsoverml]

ML Fic Recs - Ladynoir

I think most readers can appreciate a good rec list, but it’s often the same fics that I see recced again and again. I get why they’re recced - they’re amazing! But I want help finding fic I haven’t already read. So I decided to be the change I want to see in the world. The rule: the fic must have less than a thousand kudos on AO3 (but I’m trying to limit to fics that have less than 500.) Obviously this means a lot of my favourites are not included here, but you’ve probably read all of those already anyway. 

If you enjoy these, please reblog so more readers can find these awesome fics!

To get things started and in honour of the quality ladynoir content we just got (which I’m hoping will inspire even more quality fan content!), let’s have some ladynoir recs. Fics are in no particular order.

Amnesiac? More like Amnesi-Chat by therealjanebingley

Oblivio's back, and this time only Chat Noir gets hit. Based on his limited knowledge and the way Ladybug acts towards him, he makes some assumptions.

One-shot. This is hilarious. From Chat’s genuine glee about his superheroes to Ladybug’s affectionate indulgence to having Chat provide an “outside perspective” on Ladybug’s non-platonic behaviour towards him to the teasing... I could see this actually happening in an Oblivio 2.0 episode.

Experimental Kisses by @komorebirei

Ladybug watched him. Maybe it was guilt, maybe sympathy, maybe a streak of playfulness. Maybe the traumatic akuma experience had softened her up. Whatever the reason, a thought wafted lazily through her mind and out of her mouth. “You know… you’re right. It isn’t fair, is it?”

Chat Noir looked up.

“I remember my first kiss, but you don’t.” She hummed and tapped her chin, making a show of remembering. “It wasn’t a bad kiss, but we were in the middle of fighting an akuma, so I didn’t get to enjoy it much, either.”

Oops—that came out sounding a little, no, a lot more flirty than she had intended. Anyway, if she was going to commit to this idea, she may as well go all in.

One-shot. Ladybug offers to kiss Chat since he doesn’t remember their kiss and the way she reacts to the kiss...it lives in my mind rent-free. I have fallen asleep many a night fantasizing about what the repercussions of the kiss might look like. 

What's your favourite colour? by @hermionemonica

Ladybug and Chat Noir sit on a rooftop, watching the sunset.

One-shot. This fic is short and sweet and absolutely lovely. It’s set post-reveal and despite only being 566 words it’s full of sweetness and feeling.

Margins of Error by orphan_account

“Do you…” Ladybug's voice is at an almost-whisper. He can feel her breath fire-hot against his face. “Do you want me to show you how I think they should write our kiss?”

Adrien isn’t here anymore, leave a message after the tone.

--

Adrien was raised on order. His life is meticulously planned, each day as reliable as the equations he studies in physics and calculus. But Ladybug- Ladybug always has him at a loss.

One-shot. Okay, so I know the author of this one since I download all my favourite fics, but since they’ve orphaned it I’m going to respect that. However, since the author was kind enough to leave the work up so people can continue to enjoy it, I’m going to suggest that people do so! Ladynoir kisses featuring my absolute favourite dynamic: sexually assertive Ladybug and receptive Chat Noir. (Don’t take this to mean the fic has sexual content - it’s just kissing.) AMAZING.

Liquid Luck by @somethingvaguetodo

Ladybug enlists Chat Noir's help in decoding the remaining ingredients for the power-up transformation potions. Together, they work on creating them, and possibly destroying the barriers between them.

Multi-chapter. The riddles of the secret potion ingredients are fun to think about, Ladybug and Chat Noir both get to show off their smarts, and the trust and support between the two of them is showcased. Perfect ladynoir.

when you weren't mine to lose by @bugsandchatons

Change is a scary thing, especially when it feels like nothing has stayed the same.

It's been a year since Marinette became the Guardian of the Miracle Box - a year of struggling beneath a burden she never asked for, a weight that has her leaning on her partner more and more as the hours fly by, of letting him come to her, too, when he needs a soft place to land. A year of falling for the boy who takes on the world by her side with a smile made of sunlight, and fighting the growing urge to tell him what he means to her.

After all, they'll have time enough for that when Paris is safe.

But when the unthinkable happens, Marinette learns the tragedy of loving someone quietly, and the lines she'll cross to save him.

Multi-chapter. This is what happens when Ladybug loses Chat Noir. It hurts in all the best ways and the writing is absolutely gorgeous and somehow we still get a happy ending!

well if i'm beautiful and you're beautiful then who's saving paris? by celebreultimaverba

Chat flirts. Surprisingly, it works.

And then it backfires.

One-shot. This one is so cute and sweet! It’s a quick read but you’ll be smiling by the end of it.

sometimes the dreamers finally wake up by magesamell

"Four days ago a mermaid flooded Paris and an ancient guardian introduced himself to his father as a substitute Chinese tutor. He had thought that would be the end of it."

Ladybug tells Chat Noir all of her secrets.

One-shot. Post-Syren. The fic we all desperately need about Ladybug actively working to restore the balance of her and Chat’s relationship after Fu messes with that. It’s not overly romantic, but it’s absolutely perfect.

i fall in love just a little, oh, just a little by @mlady-noir

If she was asked, Ladybug wouldn't be able to give a specific date when her heart decided to fall for her pun loving partner, but she could point out the night she realized it.

One-shot. Sofffffttttttt. This is just a beautiful narrative of Ladybug’s fall for Chat with a sweet, sweet ending.

Someone I Can’t Fall In Love With by @yslen54

Ladybug agreed with Chat Noir when he suggested that they should finally share their identities with each other, but she’s been dreading it ever since.

One-shot. This is short and sweet. An identity reveal that explores Ladybug’s feelings for Chat Noir and then plays with the divided heart trope.

The following fics are amazing and absolutely worth reading, but do feature sexual content, so minors beware.

You can’t stay away from me by plikki

When Adrien sides with his father, he expects to protect Ladybug and buy some time. He doesn't expect that his emotional state will make it so much harder to resist the girl that he loves, until he just gives in.

Multi-chapter. Rated M. Not-quite an enemies AU, but with all the beautiful angst and tension of one. There’s a fair amount of sex, so be warned but it’s SO SO GOOD. And all of the pain and angst is followed by a sweet happy ending.

baby, we don't have time to be coy by Molebear

"What are we doing?" Chat breathes, the words sending a tendril of lucidity back into Ladybug's hormone-addled brain.

It's a fair question.

The origins of this tryst are a little hazy in her mind at this point. Something about a lovesick akuma, maybe? Ladybug vaguely remembers Chat Noir getting struck by something, only seconds before it hit her too. There was a fight, or... there was something she and Chat Noir had been in the middle of doing - something important, like.... save-the-world important - before she'd dragged him underground with the sole intention of climbing him like a tree.

A scorned lover gets akumatized and gains the power to cast Lust. When it comes to distracting Paris' beloved superhero team, this power turns out to be... rather effective.

One-shot. Rated M. The UST of this one damn near killed me. It’s hot AF and I would commit homicide to read the conversation these two have after that lmaoooo

Charmed, I'm Sure by @chatonne-rousse

Friends with benefits. It's right there in the name, and it's what they are - friends. Best friends. This is just a way for two consenting adults to relieve stress after akuma fights, with the only person they'd trust with this level of intimacy. Really, what could go wrong? (The real question is, what could go right?)

Multi-chapter. Rated E. The sex is really, really hot. It’s in character and full of emotion. And there’s an amazing identity reveal followed by “I’m so happy it’s you!” sex. 

A Little Too Far by imploder

Ladybug gets handsy, and Chat Noir lacks self-control. Alternitavely: "Plagg's Worst Nightmare".

One-shot. Rated E. This one is hot and in character and just absolutely amazing steamy ladynoir content. Features my favourite: sexually assertive Ladybug. Because who doesn’t love playing with gender role stereotypes?

[silenceinternalmonologue]

A Review of Loki (2021)

[The following is an exact transcription of Twitter user @/diolesbian ‘s thread linked here . They gave me permission to cross-post their thread on my Tumblr. Keep in mind that this review is fairly long and quite critical of the series. I agree with this review wholeheartedly, and would be welcome to discuss it with anyone else.] 

Loki is a character who has died many times, but his own series may be his most brutal character assassination yet.

1.  Loki’s role in the series. Instead of tackling Loki's most villainous state of mind in Avengers 1, the series literally speedran through his development in the subsequent films, after which they almost entirely halted his character progression.

Because this series was set right after Avengers 1 it had the responsibility of developing Loki further in place of The Dark World and Ragnarok. In Episode 1, this development was kicked off by having Loki watch a reel of some of his defining moments in the MCU, allowing him to see his future all the way up to his death in Infinity War. Sadly, this scene ended up being the most development he received in the entire series. And arguably, this isn’t even true development but more like a speedrun of his character up until that point, serving as a simple tactic to explain why he wouldn’t be acting all dictatorial and murderous during his own series. As soon as he had been made “good” (read: docile) enough to follow along with the plot, his agency was completely thrown out. From that point on, the series wasn’t about Loki making things happen but about things happening to Loki.

Loki was supposed to be the main character, but he wasn't the protagonist in this story. In fact, he was more of a side character than we’ve ever seen him be in the MCU before, perhaps excepting IW and Endgame.

A protagonist is by definition someone whose important decisions affect the plot, whose development is followed most closely by the audience, and who is opposed by an antagonist. Loki exhibited none of these traits in this series. Especially the latter half of the story, he was reduced to simply reacting to the revelations around him, such as the reveal that the TVA members were all variants and that Kang was the true mastermind behind everything. He never truly involved himself or acted based on any of these plot points, and hardly played a key role in what was supposed to be his own story. Even in the films, where Loki is a side character, he makes choices which impact the plot to a larger extent. He almost seems more like a background character in the role of protagonist than in the parts he plays in the films.

2. The antagonist. The TVA could have worked as the perfect setting for Loki to have a new arc. It’s a thematic antithesis to who we know Loki to be. But when this Loki turns out to not be who the audience thought he was the TVA’s thematic significance falls apart as well.

In Episode 1, the TVA’s Agent Mobius enlists the help of Loki the Variant to pin down a greater foe who we are told is another, more malicious version of Loki. Order and chaos meeting in the middle, teaming up to take down an enemy, who even happens to be the protagonists’ literal evil self: that works, it sounds promising. But this dynamic is soon undermined when Loki leaves with Sylvie. Still, the benefit of the doubt is easy to grant here: a story about tricksters is bound to contain twists. But by Episode 3 the series is halfway done and the TVA has been appointed as the main antagonist again: we’ve now established villains three different times. And then the Cloud Monster At The End Of Time is introduced, and finally Kang. In other words, the Loki series has no consistent antagonist, no one to pit its main character against. And this is where we once again miss out on an enormous aspect of Loki’s potential characterization.

Protagonists are always defined by an antagonist, whether a purple Titan, a flat tire, or themself. Loki is not given anything to define his morals, motivations, or development in opposition to and this is a huge oversight. Especially given the fact that Loki has taken on the villain’s role in the past: how is the audience supposed to know that the “bad guy” is now a “good guy” if there’s no “even worse guy” to stand up against?

3. The plot. A plot should show off its MC’s strengths and match their personality. The Loki plot hardly relied on his presence at all, he didn't play a key role. The story had so little to do with Loki that it seemed as though he has barely any impact on “his” narrative.

One of the most central conflicts in the Loki series doesn’t involve him at all: it’s between Sylvie and the TVA. This plotline was a good concept overall, but its main problem is that it’s practically the only conflict in the series. Loki himself, as mentioned before, isn’t set in opposition to anything or anyone. And thanks to his relationships with Sylvie and Mobius being weakened by conflicting storytelling devices, he appears to be in a bubble by himself away from the rest of the cast for much of the story. First he follows Mobius around, then Sylvie, then he wanders aimlessly in the void before following Sylvie once again and learning that Kang is a Really Bad Guy who he should be opposed to even though by this point he has interacted so little with the story unfolding around him that the audience doesn’t even understand why he should be choosing to play the hero.

The plot and the characters both suffer by being so incredibly unrelated to each other. A series, especially an MCU one, should tell an overarching narrative through the perspective of its main character.

In the beginning of the series, when Loki was still getting his bearings in the TVA, this lack of decision-making was more understandable, especially since some of his skills were still being shown-- he discovered Sylvie was hiding in nexus events, and he made the choice to leave Mobius and follow her. But by the latter half of the series he still hasn’t had much impact on the story or taken any actions of his own, and simply allows plot points to happen to him. Just because the Loki series had to introduce the TVA and Kang didn’t mean it had to forgo telling a story about its protagonist. If Loki’s story had been intrinsically tied to the overarching plot points, if his choices had been some of the primary factors determining how events ended up taking place, the series would have succeeded in every aspect. But instead Loki is pushed aside by the plot of his own series, a plot which subsequently ends up coming across as largely hollow and pointless due to its lack of character drive.

4. Loki’s arc. One of the main reasons MCU Loki is loved is for his excellent character development across his films. TVA Loki was extremely lacking in that aspect and chances to take his character in interesting new self-aware directions were thrown away without much thought.

Throughout the MCU, Loki is on a journey with many highs and lows. He goes from a bitter and disheartened prince standing in the shadow of his brother, to a self-loathing Jotun bent on destroying his own people in a desperate attempt to win his father’s love, to a half-mad partially mind-controlled dictator with delusions of grandeur fueled by his own insecurity, to a prisoner wondering what there is left for him to lose, to a savior of Asgard’s people finally coming to accept his place in what is left of his family, to a tragic sacrificial victim who knew he had to die so the true hero might live on. That’s a hell of a journey, incidentally shown in less than TWO HOURS of screen time, and the prospect of TVA Loki embarking on an equally stimulating one, this time told over the course of over four hours and shown from his own perspective the entire way through, was exciting. But as it turned out, this relatively simple expectation went completely unmet.

For a story trying to say so much about individuality and self-acceptance, the Loki series seemed to pass by every obvious opportunity to tackle those questions.

Sylvie’s introduction seemed like a good idea at first: Loki would be able to literally bond with himself and learn to accept who he is that way, and forays could be made to explore what Loki’s personality could have been like if he grew up under different circumstances! But aside from a scene or two in Episode 3, this was not how things ended up going. Loki didn’t come to any grand or important conclusions about his identity, he didn’t choose to act differently, all that happened was a vaguely-worded confession of pseudo-romantic feelings which was cut off in the middle, made no sense, and weakened the narrative in a whole host of other ways explained elsewhere. Loki’s encounter with other versions of themself in the Void was similarly meaningless: Loki didn’t end up expressing or demonstrating a single thing he learned from meeting all of those alternate selves, despite the fact that there was potential for massive self-discovery there.

Less than 2 hours of MCU screen time portrayed Loki more coherently than this entire series. Loki is loved because of how much he changes, and it felt like he didn’t in this series. He started off lost and stayed that way throughout the entire plot.

By the end of the series, it was impossible to identify who Loki had become. He said he didn’t want a throne, but it was not obvious why not. He looked sad to be betrayed by Sylvie, but never expressed what that meant to him. He seemed afraid once Kang was unleashed, but why? Why did he care about the Sacred Timeline? What were his motivations? Throughout the series the answers to these questions became less and less obvious, culminating in the final episode which ended without a single moment of reflection or explanation as to who Loki had become. He wasn’t a villain, but only because he wasn’t murdering people. He was in some capacity a hero, for… being against Kang, probably, but once again with no explanation as to why Loki had decided to feel that way. He never seemed self-assured in his heroism, as if he hadn’t chosen the role for himself. Again, making one’s own choices that shape the narrative are what differentiates a protagonist from a side character, but Loki did not do that in this series.

5. Loki and Sylvie’s relationship. Loki and Sylvie had the potential to be a powerful duo representing the process of self-acceptance but instead they were reduced to a strange pseudo-romance.

Despite Loki’s many developments in the films, he never truly liked himself. He has been known to act extremely confident and self-righteous at times, but this is merely the opposite side of the coin containing his self-loathing and insecurity. Having him literally meet and subsequently befriend himself in Episode 3 was a move towards developing this aspect of him and potentially teaching him to finally accept himself as he truly is, but this buildup was all shattered in Episode 4 when the relationship is portrayed to have romantic undertones. Instead of a powerful struggle to accept oneself, the relationship between Loki and Sylvie becomes a twisted thing which is memeable at best (selfcest LOL amirite?) and outright damaging to both characters and the very concept of loving oneself at worst.

Ultimately, Loki and Sylvie's relationship didn’t add anything to either character’s development and actively detracted from what could have been a touching story.

Romantic love is extremely different from self love; romantic love has connotations including dating conventions and sexuality which are impossible to ignore and in this case serve as a distraction. And on top of ruining a potentially powerful storyline, this strange relationship makes both Loki and Sylvie seem out of character. Loki is once again one thousand years old and he has never even had a true friend, so why would he possibly fall for someone after knowing them for only two days? Meanwhile in Sylvie’s case, Loki’s “feelings” for her cause the audience to pay more attention to her romantic life and gestures rather than her actual character and motivations.

6. Loki’s Sexuality and Gender Fluidity. Loki’s sexuality and gender has been shown in several comic runs, and the series was advertised as featuring this representation as well. But due to several fundamental errors and problematic storytelling this also fell flat.

Sylvie’s introduction filled many fans with hope regarding the portrayal of Loki’s identity. In the MCU neither of their LGBT identities had ever been touched upon, while the series introduced a female variant of Loki and explicitly stated their sexuality. But this portrayal soon unraveled, most notably in Episode 5, in which many other Loki variants were shown but not a single one besides Sylvie was non-male. On top of that, when TVA Loki mentioned Sylvie and referred to her as “a woman Variant of us”, the other Lokis agreed that that sounded “terrifying”. Why should a genderfluid being be afraid of a version of themselves presenting as a different gender? It read as both fluidphobic not to mention strangely sexist.

The pseudo-romance between Loki and Sylvie only aggravated the situation. Not only did the nature of the “relationship” seem to follow heteronormative storytelling tropes (falling in love after a couple days of knowing each other, one party being reduced to a love interest, valuing romantic love above any other type, etc) but it also seemed distressing and offensive to many genderfluid people. A romance between a male and a female Loki, one of which doesn’t even call herself by that name, seems to be implying that an individual becomes someone else when merely presenting as a different gender, which of course isn’t at all the case. The writing wasn’t necessarily malicious here, but it was certainly ignorant and potentially even harmful. The opportunity was there to translate Loki’s powerful comic representation into the framework of the MCU, but this attempt did not succeed.

7. Loki’s characterization. Loki is a chameleon, but there are certain traits fundamental to his character. These traits were either ignored or actively mocked in the series. The audience already knew “what makes a Loki a Loki", but the series threw that knowledge away.

Episode 1’s premise of stripping Loki of everything he is used to was an intriguing setup to ensure the discovery of the core of who Loki truly is. The only problem was that this truth didn’t end up being found at all. Mobius made fun of Loki’s most defining traits, such as his habits of lying to manipulate people and acting out of a place of insecurity, which seemed to be a signal for the narrative to forbid Loki from exhibiting any of those traits from that point on in any way. This reduction in Loki’s character was reflected in everything, from his lack of humor (in the films he’s even funny while he’s taking over the world!), the underpowered way in which he fought against Sylvie (he’ll use magic to dry his clothes, but fight with a damn vacuum cleaner?) to the way that he wore the same boring outfit in every single episode-- it may sound shallow, but clothes are important when presenting a character. Every one of Loki’s looks in the films said something about him and his state of mind, and sadly that bland TVA outfit seemed to convey that Loki really was nothing more than a subservient pawn in what was supposed to be his own story. Ironically, the writing stripped Loki of everything that made him Loki, and left us with nothing but a Jotun-shaped void to be swayed by the whims and wills of the characters and plot devices surrounding him.

8. Loki’s past and abilities. This series could have elaborated on aspects of his character which had been teased at in the films and theorized about by fans, but ended up being a disappointment in this aspect as well.

Aside from Loki’s characterization and development, something else the series ignores is much of his canon story in the films. Since Thor 1, a truth that always overshadowed Loki was his Jotun heritage. He struggled with it up until the time of his death, clearly visible in his relationship with his foster family. It’s understandable that Loki was supposed to be independent from Thor in his series, but that’s no excuse for completely ignoring this central part of who Loki is. It doesn’t matter how much he goes through or how much his circumstances change, this feeling of unbelonging sits deep in Loki’s core and should have been both explored and explicitly discussed in the series. A series all about Loki was the perfect opportunity for him to finally confront and explain his relationship with his heritage, and potentially come to terms with it as well. And this isn’t even to say how cool some more insight on Loki’s Jotun inheritance could have been-- hypotheticals aren’t the point of this review, but it would have been fascinating to see Loki reacting adversely to heat like he has been hinted to in the past or even using his ice powers like he did in Thor 1.

Loki's magic was tragically underused. It felt like he was stripped of all of his magical powers even after his TVA chains had been removed, and this was never explained.

A second huge oversight is his magic. His powers are all over the place in this series. They were always a bit vague in the films, but this series was the opportunity to set that right and explain exactly what Loki was capable of as a sorcerer, especially now that the MCU has embraced magic more than it had ten years ago. But instead, Loki showcased an inexplicable lack of magic use-- again, the vacuum cleaner fight can be presented as evidence. There is a single scene in which Loki says that he learned his magic from Frigga, but no information is given as to how much he learned or why he doesn’t always favor spells. His power levels are incredibly inconsistent (he forgoes using magic when first confronted by the TVA, but is later shown using telekinesis to save himself from being literally crushed to death). And, strangest of all, there is a scene in which he tells Sylvie that he “can’t” enchant living beings. Loki, the millennium year old Trickster sorcerer god, who can hold an Infinity Stone with his bare hands, reanimate Surtur in the Eternal Flame, and trick the average person using illusions with ease, can’t cast a little enchantment? And if so, why not? The series offered precious few explanations concerning Loki’s magical abilities and instead only raised more questions. And in this way, Loki is once again relegated into the background and left with not a single shred of any new characterization or development. 

Loki contains multitudes, but the series reduced him to two dimensions.

This isn’t to mention every other facet of Loki’s story that could have potentially been explored to great success in this series-- his torture and subsequent partial mental influence at the hands of Thanos just before the events of Avengers 1 is one obvious example, as is his youth on Asgard, as are his suicidal tendencies (people don’t tend to survive falling off the Bifrost, and he knew that when he threw himself off of it), plus infinite other facets of him. Of course, it was both necessary and more interesting for this series to be its own story rather than one which lingered on past films-- but that’s not to say that none of these plot points should have come back, at least subtly, to play a role in this story. Plot points exist to be brought back later, not completely ignored. Otherwise a story may as well be written about a completely original character.

[yesimwriting]

Falling Angels: chapter two

A/n took me longer to get around to writing part 2 than i thought!! i didn’t know there was an audience for this idea but im glad you guys liked it!!

Im adding a country to the grishaverse to make my story work,, def not a big deal i just needed a country in which i could control the history of without worrying about conflicting with cannon lol 

Link to part one: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/yesimwriting/652318577650696192 (lmk if this works ive never linked something to a tumblr post lol)

Series Summary: Y/n is a rising star in the most famous circus in Ketterdam because of her ability to see the future. Unfortunately for her, Kaz Brekker knows more of her backstory than he should, and he’s willing to use that to his advantage. The one thing he’s not betting on? That he doesn’t know her entire story

Chapter summary: Y/n gets a visitor before getting tricked into the most dangerous show of her life. 

Pairng: SOC x reader, Kaz Brekker x sunshine-y! Psychic! Reader 

--

My father seemed to love me more after two glasses of something amber. It was after these two glasses that he would tell me realities his inebriated self believed I needed to internalize. He’d pat my head affectionately and smiled at me as he told me that the world was a bad place. Most of his lessons are lost in my mind, but the one I remember most clearly is that there’s no such thing as a kept secret. There’s always a leak or a flaw or a factor you could not account for. He told me that if I wanted to keep a secret, I would have to decide what I was willing to risk for it. 

I know from Seria’s reaction to his presence that listening to Kaz is a risk, but it’s a risk I’m willing to take for my secret. “I don’t know what you think I am, but you’re mistaken.” It doesn’t really matter that he believes me. I have the paperwork I need to disprove him. “I have to get to my tent.” 

“The princess gets her own tent?” His words are saturated by mock casualness but I can feel his pride on how he delivered that line. 

My body is still tense from balancing over flames and his confidence only adds to my desire to unravel. I can’t get angry here. Not at him. Not with the way he grips that cane of his. “I don’t understand what--” 

“You may be able to play pretend here where no one wants to look twice at you, but I know what you are.” His stiffness leaves my skin prickling. “I know who you are.” 

I swallow back my panic. “Then who am I?” 

“You’re that king’s bastard--the one with a high bounty on her head.” Don’t back down. Even the smallest crack will confirm his story. “As long as she’s returned alive.” 

Thoughts of what my father would do to me if ever given the chance strike me with more anxiety than his presence does. “I’ve heard of the girl you’re talking about,” I admit, the lie leaving me as easily as the air leaves my lungs when I exhale. “But I’m not her.” 

“You’re not from Ketterdam, if you were you would have known who I was after you friend referred to me as Dirtyhands.” I have no defense, but I never claimed to be from Ketterdam. “You make your business claiming to be a psychic.” I am a psychic, but now is not the time to make that argument. “Elkosa is a relatively small and self efficient port kingdom, the island is nothing more than a jagged coastline barely larger than Ketterdam, but I have connections in all places.” He knows someone from Elkosa? I have to fight the instinct to move all of my weight on the balls of my feet, prepared to run. “A captain of the royal fleet told me the story of the night the King’s bastard ran into the meeting room the night before ten ships were meant to sail to Ravka.” 

He studies my reaction as I struggle to keep my expression blank. “None of that seems connected.” 

“Patience is a virtue most Saints are familiar with.” I roll my eyes. “The bastard couldn’t have been more than nine at the time, but the guards did not want to let her in. The King told them to let her interrupt. The sailor noted this because he had never made an exception to his meeting before. The girl described a nightmare to her father, a nightmare of a storm and ten dead birds. The king did not comfort her, she finished her story by saying that he asked to know about all of her dreams. She went back upstairs and the King continued the meeting as normal but the next day the King cancelled the trip.”

I remember that night as the night I realized that if I’m not careful, I’ll feel what I see in my visions. It felt like I was drowning. I felt the death of each of those men and instead of comforting me, my father nodded once like I had offered him advice and sent me back to my room. “And?” My defense is weak, my mind too lost in the memories of drowning. “Many smaller countries are superstitious.” 

“The next day the worst storm to have impacted that ocean occurred. For four nights and three days the storm continued.” 

I press my nails into my palms. “You don’t believe that I am precognitive, so that sailor’s unverified story has nothing to do with me.” 

“A princess that can see the future disappears at the same time a failing circus hires a girl who has no business in this city who claims to be able to see the future.” He adjusts his stance, taking pressure off the cane as if he’s preparing to need to use it for something else. “I am not fool enough to believe in coincidence.” 

“And I am not fool enough to crack beneath the vague threats of a man. In my experience, men always threaten with a blade when really all they’re in possession of is a butter knife. Try to drag me from here kicking and screaming, find a way to incapacitate me and put me on a ship to Elkosa, but when the King sees that you brought him a stranger he will have your head.” 

He blinks, expression hard as stone. I tense, preparing for a physical blow. “I didn’t expect you to be a half-decent liar, but I should have.” I bite my tongue to avoid resorting to something I can’t take back. Like begging. “Even if it’s in only half your blood.” 

“I am not her.” My stubbornness burns more than the need to survive. I inhale, hoping to shake the grasp of the sensation but it only worsens. The pinch of dread in my chest is heavy and familiar. A vision. 

No. Not now--not in front of him. I push against it even though I know that only makes it worse. Not now. Not now. I should be grounding myself but all I can think about is how stupid I am and how bad this situation is.

--

“I’m not an idiot, I know to be quiet. I see myself crouched somewhere dark. 

“Being defensive doesn’t make you any more intelligent.” It takes me a minute to recognize Kaz in the darkness. 

We’re somewhere small, our backs against the same wall but our shoulders do not touch. This vision is enshrouded by the feel of panic. 

This other me grimaces, but her eyes lack anger, “Remind me why I agreed to help you again?” 

“You never told me why,” he admits, “you can change your mind on participating and I can change my mind on whether or not you're more useful than your father’s money.”

Something loud crashes from behind the door we’re both staring at. “You’ll have no use for me or my father’s money if we die here.” I squeeze my hands together. 

He hesitates, “My ghost will.” 

The future-me almost smiles. “I wonder if I’ll be able to see ghost futures.” I hesitate, something strange behind my eyes. “I wonder if that can exist, if there’s a future beyond endings.” 

Future-Kaz is silent for a long second. “There should be,” he says, “for someone like you, at least.” 

I watch the way I take in his words. “You’d be there, too,” my voice is low, “your ghost at least.” I turn my head, staring at the door instead of him, “If you weren’t, I’d miss the brooding.” 

--

The vision leaves me with sweaty palms and swirling thoughts. All of my visions do that. Not all of them make me feel so confused. Apparently, he needs help and I agree to do so. At one point we’ll be pushed into a life or death situation and I won’t loathe him. 

I blink twice, forcing myself to hold onto the reality in front of me. I don’t have to agree--the future isn’t set in stone. For all I know tomorrow morning I’ll have a vision in which he kills me. 

“Are you ignoring me?” 

Shaking my head, I turn to face him. “You need help.” I don’t wait for his reaction. “You’re not here to return someone to the King of Elkosa, you’re here because you need someone that can see the future.” 

“I--” 

“It’s not that you won’t take me to Elkosa, it’s that you’d rather use my abilities for something.”

I’m confusing him again, but that’s okay. I’d rather deal with him confused than angry. “I need to know how a certain business deal of mine is going to be worth what it costs.”

He’s spent the entire time claiming he doesn’t believe in my power. Was that some kind of tactic? In the vision I saw, despite the panic surrounding the situation I didn’t feel panicked around him. The probability of that future occurring is probably low. I’ve been wrong before, the future changes too much for me to know everything. 

“That’s not how readings work,” I admit, “I don’t have that much control on them. Most of them come to me randomly. The events I see always involve me or someone I care about to a certain capacity. I can give someone a general glimpse into their future but I can’t promise I’ll see what they want. Sometimes I can see the general vision by just focusing on their energy but usually I need some physical contact for it to work.” That seems like a fair explanation. “Oh--and not all of my predictions come true, most are blurry, few are solid--the future is always moving.” 

Wait...the vision I saw where I was with Kaz wasn’t blurry. Those can be wrong, but it’s much rarer. Do I really agree to this? 

“Then maybe I should make it involve you.” His aggression has me forcing myself to stand my ground. He can threaten me all he wants but that won’t change things. “Or take the money your father would give me and cut my losses.” 

Every time I’ve purposefully destroyed a solid vision, something bad has happened. I’m genuinely considering it. “What do you need a psychic for, anyways?” 

“To get through the Fold.” 

Despite everything, I laugh. “I’ve never seen anyone get through the Fold, literally or in my visions.” 

He’s unphased by my doubt. “It’s happened.” 

I really don’t want to help him. “Well then good luck, I’m happy to part ways here.” 

I manage one step forward before he moves his cane in front of my path. I’m getting tired of this. “You’re assisting me one way or the other, whether that aid will be financial or through your services is up to you.” 

Anger pinches in my stomach the way it often does when I’m told what to do. The one thing centering me is the vision still reflecting in my thoughts. There’s no denying it--I had felt comfortable with him. There is a future in which I feel comfortable with him and I’m not sure I’ll be able to avoid it. 

“I won’t get in trouble for you,” I tell him, “The Ringmaster holds onto those indentured to him, especially the commodities that bring him profit.” 

There’s something stiff about his silence. I wonder if he’s always like this, pushing the weight of his presence onto those around him without saying a word. “When I have a goal, it is achieved. I’ll speak to him.” 

I cannot imagine a conversation I want to be involved in less. The Ringmaster and this man that Seria had labeled ‘Dirtyhands’. “I just had a vision--I saw your entire conversation and it ends with you missing an arm.” His stoic expression does not shift. “Okay, I’m aware that it wasn’t the funniest joke, but throw me a bone--you threatened to kidnap me and sell me to my father in order to extort me and I’ve been nothing but polite to you.” 

He’s quiet for a moment, something in his expression changing in a way I can’t read. “All you’ve done is lie since the moment you started to speak to me.” 

The optimist in me would like to think that his annoyance counts for banter. I shrug, feeling a little lighter than I did a second ago. I’m certainly not comfortable but I’m starting to see how to put up with the tension without letting it strain me. “Well, polite for my standards.” 

I let him brood. “You must have done well as a royal.” 

My past cuts through the peace I managed to grab onto. It’s not his fault, he has no way of knowing what the castle was like for me. I open my mouth, but I don’t know what I’m going to say. “I had my moments,” I finally settle on, hoping the echo of pain isn’t visible behind my eyes. 

I guess it doesn’t matter if he sees me bleed. He’s heartless, and I hate sympathy. 

“Y/n,” Seria’s voice is genuine anger, “You’ve turned into an idiot--first the tightrope walk and now entertaining whatever deal he’s trying to coax from you.” I love Seria, she’s the reason I didn’t die in the street when I first arrived in Ketterdam, but she sees me as a mindless child. “Whatever he told you, whatever he promised you--it’s a lie.” 

“He hasn’t promised me anything.” I need to calm her down. Once she’s calm, everything will be normal again. “And he knows.” I don’t have to turn to feel the way Seria gapes at me. “He knows who I am, so I have to do what he wants.” 

“You never have to do anything a man is forcing onto you, y/n. We’ll find a way--” 

“Seria, it’s fine,” I reach to touch her arm, “I’ll be fine, you can’t protect me from everything and you don’t have to.” 

Kaz throws a pointed glare at the man who was with him earlier. When did the stranger get here? “Boss, she’s faster than she looked, but I have what we need to get the girl--” 

“You’re late,” Kaz sighs, bored, “she’s agreed.” 

Wait--what was he going to do if I didn’t agree? “Out of curiosity, what are you talking about?” The man blinks twice, squeezing a rag between his ring-clad fingers. “You were going to use chloroform to kidnap me, weren’t you?” 

For some reason I don’t understand, the stranger gives me a look that’s a cross between sheepish and charming. “Nothing personal.” 

“Or original.” 

Seria pinches my arm. “Y/n,” she scolds, “your sense of humor is going to kill me one of these days.” 

I cringe, pulling my arm away. “When I met you, you were pickpocketing in the pleasure district, please remember that.” 

She rolls her eyes. “An attitude like that is going to leave you without a place to sleep at night.” 

I take her comment for the empty threat it is. Every other day she’s threatening to kick me out of her private trailer so that I’m forced to fight for cots or speak to the Ringmaster about my lodging arrangements. He’d give me what I want, but speaking to him feels so slimy I’d sleep in the woods before trying it. 

“Kaz.” I turn my head in time to see the girl that gave me the advice about the tightrope walker. “We need to go, he’s coming soon--you’ll do better to speak to him in the morning after she’s gone, that way he has nothing to hold over your head.” 

“Once I’m gone?” The girl had called me a Saint. I can appeal to her. “I’m not--I’m not going anywhere, I said I’d help.” 

Her eyes widen, sympathy reflected clearly in her dark irises. “There was never a version of this in which you ended up staying here.” I hear a hint of apology in her voice. “You won’t believe me, but I promise this will be better for you.” All of her pity is gone with those, replaced by something hard.

Seria responds for me, “I think you should go.” 

“What?” 

She almost smiles, but her eyes are painfully sad. “I never wanted you to be here forever. I don’t trust these people, but I trust their ability to get you out of here, even if only for a little while. Bad things are coming, and I think you’ll miss the worst of it if you go now.” 

What she alludes to is a blade in my heart. “You want me to leave you here to deal with it?” 

“Y/n, I’ve been hurt here more times than I can count--”

“No, I won’t leave y--” 

Seria squeezes my shoulder, “It’s not forever.” When she wants something, it’s almost impossible to get around it. “Besides, if I need you, you’ll see it.” 

My world feels to have lost the vibrance of color. I’ve left so much, but I let myself believe I wouldn’t leave her. I pull her into the hug. “The moment I see a vision of you in any type of danger, I’m coming back.” I hug her even tighter when she tries to pull away so that I can whisper something in her ear, “I’ll use this opportunity to leave the Ringmaster and then I’ll get you out, and together we’ll leave Ketterdam. We’ll find your child, like you always wanted to and they’ll know that they're lucky because they’re the only kid in the world to have you as a mother.” 

She squeezes me so tightly I find it hard to take full breaths. “Two,” Seria whispers, “I have two children.”

My eyes burn as her words find their way into my heart. “I love you, Seria.” 

“I love you too, my star,” she pulls away enough so that I can look her in the eye, “you don’t like being called a Saint, but I can’t think of anyone more deserving of the title.” 

Tears prick my eyes as she releases me. “I’ll find you.” 

“He’ll be coming soon,” the girl warns, “He spoke to an advisor about wanting to find you after the show.” 

No doubt to praise the fire stunt he forced onto me. Bastard. I nod once but I don’t move. I can’t bring myself to leave Seria until the girl places a hand on my elbow. 

--

Falling Angels Taglist: @glowstick-lesbian @cashlum @whatiswrongwithpeople @pass-me-jeez-it @thecraziestcrayon

[zintranslations]

Kaleidoscope of Death, Ch. 70

Kaleidoscope of Death by Xi Zixu Link to Chinese / Link to ongoing Taida Translations

Chapter 70: Appetite

Can't help it anymore. When he heard Qin Budai say this, Lin Qiushi felt a chill deep in his bones. The person before him wore fresh blood on his lips, and stared at him with a pair of silent, red-veined eyes. The look that was so clearly stifling something lifted a light layer of goosebumps along Lin Qiushi's arms. All of Lin Qiushi's instincts were ringing the alarm—that the person in front of him was very, very dangerous.

Qin Budai gradually got closer and closer. His footsteps finally halted before Lin Qiushi, and he slowly called out Lin Qiushi's name. His tone was both cloying and cold, sending very mixed signals.

At that moment, Lin Qiushi wanted to turn and run. But he also felt that the instant he left his back open, something completely out of his control would happen. So he thoroughly smothered that urge to escape and hide, and instead said, "Qin Budai, are you alright?"

Qin Budai smiled eerily at Lin Qiushi. "I'm fine." It probably would've been better if he hadn't smiled at all; it only made his expression seem more twisted.

Just as the two stood in stalemate, Chen Fei's voice came warily from outside the kitchen. "What are you two doing?"

Chen Fei reached and flipped the light switch on the wall. The entire kitchen lit up, and he got a good look at the scene before him.

"Qin Budai— What are you doing?" His gaze fell on that slab of meat Qin Budai had been chewing on, and the moment after he asked this question, he seemed to comprehend exactly what Qin Budai had done. There was a brief hitch in his breath. "You just came out of a door?"

Qin Budai slowly nodded.

"Hungry?" Chen Fei sounded very calm, like he saw nothing wrong at all with the scene before him. "Let me cook you something to eat."

Qin Budai didn't speak, just turned and left.

Watching him go, Chen Fei didn't stop him, just sighed lightly.

"What in the world happened?" Lin Qiushi wasn't as experienced as Chen Fei, and couldn't understand what was going on with Qin Budai. Honestly, Qin Budai’s current state reminded Lin Qiushi of the monsters inside the doors.

"He's probably been affected by the door world." Chen Fei went to the fridge, and pulled out a steak. He really was planning to cook it for Qin Budai. "The human psyche is a fragile thing. After a strong shock, it can be prone to disorder." After saying this, he glanced over at Lin Qiushi. "Not everyone can accept things as calmly as you can."

Lin Qiushi didn't know what to say.

"The worst situation is when everybody else is dead, but the door and the key haven't appeared." Chen Fei lit the stove, heated the oil, and set the steak into the pan with a sizzle. "You're trapped alone inside the door, not knowing how long you'll be stuck there…"

His voice got lower and lower.

It was indeed nightmarish.

To be trapped inside alone. Just the thought of it sent chills throughout the body. Lin Qiushi leaned against the threshold. "Qin Budai… will be okay, right?"

Chen Fei shook his head. "I don't know."

Lin Qiushi, "what do you mean you don't know?"

Chen Fei, "I mean that I don't know if he'll get better, if he can separate reality from the world of the doors."

Lin Qiushi frowned. "If he can't?"

Chen Fei's motions paused, and a self-mocking smile appeared across his face. "If he can't? If he can't… Then he's done for."

Killing people inside the door was fine, but in reality, there were laws and sanctions in place.

Plus, people like this became very dangerous. They may not murder, but they still may commit some other drastic crime. People who could not distinguish between the inside and outside could not continue staying at the mansion. Of course, this wasn't something Chen Fei told Lin Qiushi, because he didn't think it necessary.

The steak was done. Chen Fei plated and brought it to the dining table outside, handing it to Qin Budai.

Qin Budai cut the steak apart with a fork and knife, but his peripherals lingered on Lin Qiushi. He still felt hungry, and the steak before him was incapable of satiating that full-body, anxious gluttony he felt. But he didn't dare make it apparent—could only keep his head down, pretending to be happily chowing down.

Chen Fei watched from the side. Lin Qiushi noticed his brow furrowed in a knot, and a certain scrutiny in his eyes, like he was in the middle of diagnosing Qin Budai's condition.

Chen Fei asked, "what did you see inside the door?"

At the mention of the door, Qin Budai couldn't help a whole-body shiver. He opened his mouth, but said nothing even after a moment, like words couldn't possibly describe the world he'd seen.

Chen Fei, "hm?"

Qin Budai's reply was vague. "It was a very scary world. There wasn't much to eat. I was hungry the whole time."

Chen Fei didn't speak, sinking into thought.

Qin Budai finished the steak, and very politely bid them good night, returning upstairs to sleep.

Lin Qiushi stayed where he was, watching him go. He still felt there was something off with Qin Budai, but he couldn’t concretely say what it was.

Chen Fei said, "I'll ask Ruan-ge tomorrow."

Lin Qiushi, "ask him what?"

Chen Fei sighed, "which world Qin Budai went into, of course." Qin Budai was a newbie, still entering the first round of doors right now. He didn't have Lin Qiushi's luck—the group only took him through a couple of doors, and left him on his own for the most recent one.

Lin Qiushi nodded his agreement.

That night, Lin Qiushi didn't sleep very well. His mind, as he tossed and turned, was filled with the image of Qin Budai eating that raw meat. To tell the truth, after seeing that scene, even his sense of distinction between reality and the world of the doors felt blurred. It was an awful feeling, and left him filled with unease.

The next day, Lin Qiushi went downstairs sporting twin bags under his eyes.

Cheng Qianli had just come back from walking Toast, and Toast was twitching its fat little butt around, chasing and playing with Chestnut.

Cheng Qianli saw Lin Qiushi's severe lack of sleep, and said, "what happened? You look like you haven't woken up yet."

Lin Qiushi yawned. "It's nothing. I stayed up too late last night."

Cheng Qianli, "oh. Come eat breakfast then. My brother just cooked."

Cheng Yixie made porridge, along with a few small dishes. He was sitting and slowly eating at the table. Lin Qiushi went over to say good morning. Then he also grabbed a bowl to eat.

The people inside the mansion all began to gradually wake. Lin Qiushi saw Chen Fei. Then he also saw Qin Budai.

Qin Budai no longer had that scary aura from last night about him. He'd changed into a fresh outfit, and wore a smile. He approached Lin Qiushi and said, "good morning."

Lin Qiushi, "good morning."

"Sorry to scare you last night," Qin Budai said. "I'd just come out a door, and hadn't quite gotten myself together." He smiled, eyes rainbowing in a friendly expression. "I really am sorry."

"Don't worry about it," Lin Qiushi said. "You've… gotten yourself together now?"

Qin Budai nodded, indicating he has.

Chen Fei sat next to them, watching the two interact. He was examining Qin Budai without giving anything away, clearly not completely believing Qin Budai's excuse.

Not long after Ruan Nanzhu also came down. He maintained his typical aloofness, and made to head out after eating, before Chen Fei stopped him.

"Ruan-ge," Chen Fei said. "There's something I want to talk to you about."

Ruan Nanzhu nodded, and the two went off into a corner.

Lin Qiushi knew Chen Fei was likely telling Ruan Nanzhu about what happened with Qin Budai. To tell the truth, the current Qin Budai didn't seem off at all. It was difficult to link him to the person manically consuming raw meat the night before. But however his psyche was actually doing, if he'd gotten better, Lin Qiushi couldn't be the judge. So he thought this matter was better left to Chen Fei.

Lin Qiushi finished eating, and returned to his room.

Spring had just ripened. Sunlight spilled in brilliance, a cool breeze caressed, and Lin Qiushi sat at his window, turning on his computer to browse that forum open only to people who'd been inside the doors.

There were lots of interesting posts on this forum. Lin Qiushi had already developed the habit of reading through them daily. Casually, he plucked a piece of candy from his table and popped it in his mouth. He moved the mouse and began browsing the posts.

The posts were a mess, and full of strange tales.

Some discussed the world inside the doors, others mentioned urban legends. Others still organized same-city meet-ups.

Lin Qiushi read through them with fascination.

Because they'd just come from a door, Ruan Nanzhu hadn't organized any activities for Lin Qiushi, just letting him rest.

Lin Qiushi thought that wasting away a day like this actually felt quite comfortable. He ate lunch, took a nap, and let the day pass by just like that.

After Chen Fei spoke to Ruan Nanzhu that morning, the two left the mansion. Nobody knew where they'd gone off to.

But Lin Qiushi was already used to them appearing and disappearing at will, and wasn't curious at all.

Cheng Qianli and Cheng Yixie though, were gone as well. Lin Qiushi guessed Cheng Yixie had brought Cheng Qianli into some lower level doors for training.

There was still Yi Manman, Lu Yanxue, and Qin Budai inside the mansion. The four of them ate a simple dinner, and Lin Qiushi retired to his room to rest.

After a shower, Lin Qiushi lied on his bed playing sudoku. This inconsequential game was always quick to calm his mood, and also had the benefit of making him sleepy.

As he gradually filled the boxes, however, he heard a knock at his door.

"Who is it?" Lin Qiushi went to door and pulled it open, to find Qin Budai standing there.

Qin Budai said, "hi. Can I talk to you for a minute?"

Lin Qiushi blinked. "Right now?"

Qin Budai nodded.

Lin Qiushi hesitated. "Sure… Let's go talk in the study. Give me a second, I'll come over after I change." He was in his pajamas after all.

Qin Budai quietly watched Lin Qiushi. Currently, Lin Qiushi was dressed in white cotton pajamas, and his long elegant neck and his pretty collarbones were all on display. Lin Qiushi was handsome, with a gentle temperament. He looked instantly easy to get along with. He also looked… tasty.

Qin Budai suddenly licked his lips.

Lin Qiushi eyed him warily. "Qin Budai?" He felt there was something off about the person in front of him.

Qin Budai said, "I only need five minutes. I'll be quick." As he spoke, he squeezed his way through Lin Qiushi's bedroom door.

Lin Qiushi noticed his motions, and took a step back, moving into a defensive position. "Do you need something?"

Qin Budai watched Lin Qiushi. In his eyes surfaced an indescribable hunger.

Goosebumps. Lin Qiushi, "Qin Budai?"

Qin Budai, "I…"

But before he'd finished speaking, he was already lunging at Lin Qiushi.

Though Lin Qiushi had been prepared, Qin Budai still ran into him straight on with great force, knocking Lin Qiushi flat onto the bed.

Lin Qiushi, "Qin—"

Just as the name left his lips, Qin Budai's fingers gripped tight over his mouth. This wasn't the strength of a human at all—Qin Budai could force down all of Lin Qiushi's struggling with a single hand. Lin Qiushi's eyes widened, watching Qin Budai's covetous gaze fixate on his neck.

"Just one taste," Qin Budai spoke lightly. "I'll just have one taste…" He bent down, and began lapping along Lin Qiushi's chin.

Lin Qiushi remembered the slab of meat that Qin Budai tore apart the night before, and began struggling anew with all his strength. But Qin Budai's strength made his efforts seem like a mayfly throwing itself against the trunk of a tree.

Qin Budai, staring at Lin Qiushi's throat, swallowed. He parted his lips, revealing the white rows of teeth, and went to bite…

"Mmph…" Lin Qiushi continued to fight.

Just as he felt the cold touch of Qin Budai's teeth, there came knocking at the door. Fear peering through his expression, Qin Budai glanced at the door.

Dong, dong, dong. The knocks continued.

Lin Qiushi met Qin Budai's gaze. He'd thought that now somebody was here, Qin Budai would release him—but instead, there was resolution in Qin Budai's eyes.

"Sorry," Qin Budai spoke lowly right next to Lin Qiushi's ear. "You look too appetizing. I really… can't help it anymore. Even if I'm discovered, I don't want to let go…" His teeth remained on Lin Qiushi's neck, and began to apply pressure.

Lin Qiushi's eyes shot wide open as he felt the dull pain spread along his skin. He didn't think Qin Budai would actually bite.

With a loud bang!, the locked door was kicked open.

Qin Budai, lying over Lin Qiushi's body, was seized by a pair of hands, lifted up, and brutally thrown against the wall. Qin Budai shouted in pain, while Lin Qiushi fumbled to sit up in bed. He saw Ruan Nanzhu, with a chilly expression.

Ruan Nanzhu didn't speak. He approached Qin Budai, taking a green bronze ornament off a side table as he went, then grabbed Qin Budai's chin to pry his mouth open.

Terrified, Qin Budai was trembling all over.

Ruan Nanzhu's tone dipped to cold frost. He said, "if you like eating so much, have at it." Then he shoved the thing right into Qin Budai's mouth, breaking off two of Qin Budai's teeth along the way.

Qin Budai completely fainted from the pain. It was only then that Ruan Nanzhu released his hand, and returned to Lin Qiushi. There was a deep furrow in his brow, and he seemed to be in a terrible mood.

"Alright?"

Lin Qiushi, "I'm fine."

He said, "I was careless."

He hadn't thought that Qin Budai would attack him under circumstances like this. Though Chen Fei had already warned Lin Qiushi, he'd still underestimated the effect the door had on Qin Budai.

Ruan Nanzhu stared at Lin Qiushi.

Lin Qiushi was made horribly self-conscious by his gaze. He noticed it was fixed on his neck, and so reached to touch. It was only then that he noticed the teeth mark Qin Budai left on his throat… Though no skin had been broken, it still hurt.

Did this need a tetanus shot or what… As Lin Qiushi was thinking this, Ruan Nanzhu suddenly bent down over him.

Startled by Ruan Nanzhu's motions, Lin Qiushi was just about to ask what he was doing, when he caught Lin Qiushi firmly by the arms—the next moment, the spot where he'd been bitten was being roughly rubbed at. Lin Qiushi's first reaction was that Ruan Nanzhu had somehow been infected by Qin Budai's abnormal condition, and so shoved hard and shouted in pain: "Ruan Nanzhu—calm down!! It's me, it's Lin Qiushi!!"

Ruan Nanzhu bit. Only after staying there for a handful of seconds did he release the bite, looking down with satisfaction at the mark that was now covered over by his mark on Lin Qiushi's neck. Likely because he'd heard Lin Qiushi's shouts, he spoke evenly, "I know you're Lin Qiushi."

"Were you contaminated?" Lin Qiushi clasped his neck, hissing at the pain. "What did you bite me for?!"

Ruan Nanzhu spat out a single word: "Disinfection."

Lin Qiushi, "…" What the hell was wrong with Ruan Nanzhu.

After saying this, Ruan Nanzhu dragged off the fainted Qin Budai and left. Lin Qiushi looked over the mess of his room and the broken door, and for a moment didn't know what to do at all.

Qin Budai's bite hadn't torn skin, but Ruan Nanzhu's had. Lin Qiushi inspected his wound, warily wondering he needed to go get a rabies shot or something. He'd never been bitten by a person before, and so searched online for what to do.

Turned out he should've left it alone. The search left Lin Qiushi scared out of his wits, thinking he was likely going to kick it that very night.

And so bright and early the next morning Lin Qiushi rushed to the hospital. After taking a look at his wound, the doctor said, with meaning, "you youngsters need to control yourselves."

Lin Qiushi, "…" Control what, control their diets?

The doctor said, "you don't need a vaccine, just a disinfection should be fine. As long as the person who bit you doesn't have any infectious diseases there shouldn't be any problems."

Lin Qiushi, "but the search engine said…"

The doctor slapped the table. "Can you all stop going to the search engine when you're sick? Don't you just feel more terminal the more you use it?" The doctor looked maybe thirty-one, thirty-two—still quite young. He prescribed Lin Qiushi some bit of medicine, and waved him off in disgust.

Lin Qiushi returned to the mansion.

After Qin Budai was taken away last night, Lin Qiushi didn't ask what would be done with him. Today, he was nowhere to be seen. Lin Qiushi didn't see Ruan Nanzhu either, and so went to ask Chen Fei in private.

Chen Fei looked at the wound on Lin Qiushi's neck, and sighed: "It was my fault, I shouldn't have left him on his own. I thought he'd at least be able to bear it, but who knew his self-control would be so awful?"

Lin Qiushi, "so where is he now?" The way Ruan Nanzhu dragged him off last night looked like he was being taken straight to the crematorium.

"He's been sent somewhere else," Chen Fei said. "There's a place dedicated to people like him. After being affected by the doors, the way he acts in reality will be off, so he needs counseling."

Whether or not the counseling would work was another story. But this sort of person was dangerous wherever they put him. Had Ruan Nanzhu not shown up last night, Qin Budai might have straight up bitten Lin Qiushi to death.

Lin Qiushi, "oh…" He thought for a bit, before asking quietly, "and Nanzhu? How come I haven't seen him around?"

Chen Fei, "I think he went out for an errand."

Then he asked, "is your wound alright though? He broke skin. Did you get it checked out at the hospital?"

Lin Qiushi thought that no skin would've been broken had Ruan Nanzhu not given him that extra bite. And he'd claimed it was disinfection, but his bite was way harsher—it was ridiculous. Not that Lin Qiushi said any of this out loud. He only shook his head to indicate he was alright, and that he'd already been to the hospital.

After that, Qin Budai disappeared from the mansion.

With great synchronicity, nobody asked where he'd gone. Even Cheng Qianli, who was least capable of reading people, didn't mention him again.

They all seemed already prepared for sudden goodbyes.

Only three days after the incident did Lin Qiushi see Ruan Nanzhu again. At that point his wound had scabbed over. He came in from walking Toast with Cheng Qianli, and saw Ruan Nanzhu sitting in the living room eating some fruit.

Hearing their footsteps, Ruan Nanzhu only glanced up, looking them over with a placid gaze.

"Ruan-ge, you're back," Cheng Qianli greeted happily.

"Mh," Ruan Nanzhu replied. Then he looked at Lin Qiushi.

For some reason, Lin Qiushi felt a bit self-conscious. He'd felt that Ruan Nanzhu had been off that night, and was still a bit strange today.

"It's healed?" Ruan Nanzhu spoke.

Lin Qiushi knew Ruan Nanzhu was asking after his wound, and nodded. "It's healed."

"Oh," Ruan Nanzhu said.

Maybe Lin Qiushi was overthinking it, but he thought he heard a hint of disappointment in Ruan Nanzhu's tone.

Lin Qiushi continued, "thank you for that night…" Had it not been for Ruan Nanzhu, he would likely be dead already.

Ruan Nanzhu, "don't worry about it."

Lin Qiushi hesitated. "Qin Budai, will he get better?"

Ruan Nanzhu slowly chewed the fruit in his mouth, swallowed, and then answered Lin Qiushi's question: "I don't know. He determines his own fortune."

Lin Qiushi, "things like this had happened before?"

Ruan Nanzhu, "like clockwork."

Lin Qiushi didn't think he'd get this sort of answer.

"Out of a hundred newbies, ninety-nine will develop mental conditions." Ruan Nanzhu stood. "The last one is Cheng Qianli."

Hearing this off to the side, Cheng Qianli looked confused, and asked, "what do you mean the last one is Cheng Qianli?"

Affectionately, Lin Qiushi petted Cheng Qianli's head. "Nothing, Ruan-ge's just complimenting you."

Cheng Qianli, "oh. Heheheh."

Lin Qiushi thought that to be on the same level of foolish as Cheng Qianli was actually not so easy…

"Prepare yourself," Ruan Nanzhu said. "Cheng Yixie's ninth door is opening soon."

Lin Qiushi's heart jolted. "I'm going too?"

Ruan Nanzhu, "you don't want to go?"

Lin Qiushi, "I… I don't know…"

But Ruan Nanzhu didn't force it, only spoke evenly, "it's fine if you don't want to. You have three days to think about it."

Lin Qiushi nodded in acceptance.

Once he'd said this, Ruan Nanzhu turned and left. Watching him go, Cheng Qianli said he didn't know why, but he felt that recently, the feeling Ruan-ge gave off was different than before.

Lin Qiushi asked, "what's different about it?" To tell the truth, after going through the Qin Budai incident, he realized he was too complacent in the real world. Had this been inside the doors, he'd have never let Qin Budai in.

"I don't know." Cheng Qianli scratched at his foolish head. "I can't really say…"

Lin Qiushi eyed Cheng Qianli, and for a moment fretted how the boy before him was supposed to pass through the rest of those doors. He could too easily imagine Cheng Yixie, with his heart completely broken with worry for his foolish younger brother.

Author's Note:

I'm taking advantage of the good weather today to wash my cat. Everybody wish blessings of peace upon me.

[Ch. 69] | [Ch. 71]