#not even a little I am not joking sometimes I feel like we watched vastly different episodes

[widowshill]

you can put words in any order

[diary-in-disguise]

Experimenting 10/19/22

I have been experimenting with humor again. A phrase from Chesterton haunts me. He says "A writer can become two people. A formal politician or the person who writes the Sunday comics. The person who writes the Sunday comics has to extend more power to create the humor and thus is more talented than he who writes dry.

I am not a dry writer by anymeans, but often I sometimes can be a little serious and even paralyzed when faced with certain things. I have wanted to practice comedy this year and I have on and off. But writing can give me a place to store these thoughts as well.

Pokemon thankfully provides a good format for making fun of things. Especially the Scarlet Violet release, a guy today was trying to say the games had passion. My response?

"I will say if the crafting system is vastly expanded on and provides a decent scavenger hunt, the game will earn one compliment from me exactly on December 1, 2022. But for now the sandwich mini game is stale and crusty 0/10 Subway I want a refund"

There we go! Talk shit about that crusty ass sandwich mini game! Also i made a joke about how a man had no feelings except to watch his enemies drown in the Wallaroo volcano in AU for not laughing at his memes!

Anyways today was decent otherwise. I spent a little more tonight on my art than I initially planned (1 hour became like 4) but its ok. I will finish the wing on one of them tomorrow morning.

[whisperlullaby]

Just Say It And I’m Yours-Ch.1

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: Language, stalking ish themes

Words: 1490

Summary: Steve is considering retiring from being Captain America. He doesn’t remember why he took the shield or what it means for him anymore. Then he met you. 

A/N: First and foremost I am SO SORRY FOR BEING SO SHIT AT SUMMARIES. I just don’t want to give anything away. Second, this is my first series! So like, comment, reblog, let me know you want to see more of this. This story is going to start in Steve’s perspective and switch to the readers. I’ll let you guys know when the POV is shifting so no worries. So, this first chapter is told through Steve. Third, if I missed any warnings please let me know. Last but most CERTAINTLY not least, a very VERY special thanks to @river-soul​ for reading through this and assuring me it was a good first chapter. I am so grateful for you. Let me know what you think! (Gif by @navybrat817 )

“Steve, she's getting married tomorrow,” Bucky solemnly states as he puts a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “If you’re going to do something you better do it soon.” 

“I know Buck, but what could I say to her? I haven’t been able to tell her how I feel about her for years.” Steve looked out over the lake, his eyes pricking with tears. “She made her decision.” 

“You’re an idiot. You’ve been in love with her since you first saw her. If you don’t tell her, she’s going to make the biggest mistake of her life. We both know that,” Bucky sighed, raking a hand over his face. “I know she loves you. You need to talk to her. She can’t marry him Steve, you know the second she does she’ll be gone forever. The person you knew reduced to, whatever this shell of a person is.”

Steve rubbed the back of his neck and looked down where the water was gently lapping against the shore. After a few moments, he heard Bucky make his way back to the lodge. As the small waves ebbed and flowed against the shallow shore Steve thought about you and how he was an absolute coward back when you were a big part of his life. 

One and a half years ago

Steve was sketching at Marine Park in Brooklyn during golden hour when everything seemed to glow. He needed a break from his Captain America responsibilities and every time he put his charcoal to the paper everything seemed to melt away. The world was vastly different since he came out of the ice and he felt his heart swell thinking about all the fights he had to endure in order to restore some semblance of peace in the universe. He was happy that he had his best friend back, cleared of the mind control Hydra put in him and he made so many new friends and a family in The Avengers. Yet, as he drew out the skyline on the thick white paper, he couldn’t help but feel like he was still missing something. He knew he needed a break from his duties to figure it out constantly being pulled into a fight was a great distraction, but he knew he needed to figure out what brought meaning to his life. The decision to take time off gnawed at Steve like a dog to a bone, who was he if he wasn’t Captain America?

Steve heard you before he saw you, picking up the fierce tone you were using made him glad he wasn’t on the receiving end of your reprimand. Steve looked up to see you wedged in between a woman and her dog and a man probably twice your size towering over you, trying to be intimidating. The fact you stepped forward refusing to back down made Steve smile, oddly fond of your bravery. The commotion you were making drew a small crowd and Steve felt a strange pull to join the group to be close to you. 

“Who the fuck do you think you are? Following this poor woman around like a stalker,” You yelled, poking your finger in his chest. “Did you think she was being coy when she told you to stop following her? Was that some deranged invitation to keep on top of her the rest of the world is unaware of?”

Steve could tell that you were not about to back down as you protected the other woman. The fire in your eyes was something Steve was familiar with in himself before he went into the ice. He noticed the man ball his hands into fists and before you could react he had pulled back to hit you. Steve jumped in and caught the punch, inches from your face.

“You’re gonna want to walk away pal before you make things worse for yourself.” 

Steve’s voice was low in warning. When he glanced over at you, you looked up at him almost offended that he had stepped in. Before Steve could say anything you returned your gaze to the other man and swiftly kneed him in the balls. 

“Stop following women you fucking asshole,” you admonished as the man crumpled to the ground in pain. “I know you probably have a hard time listening to women when they say no because there is just a bunch of empty space where your brain is supposed to be, but maybe take this as a warning.” 

Steve watched you slack jawed as you flagged down a police officer to give a statement to. He observed you as you spoke with the other woman, who was visibly shaken by the incident, with such genuine concern and kindness. He couldn’t stop looking at you as you soothed her with gentle touches and quiet whispers. Steve waited for his turn to speak with the officers regarding the incident, after which the man was taken into custody. When Steve turned around you were walking towards him. 

“Umm thanks for catching the punch,” you said with a shrug. “I could have taken him though.” 

Steve let out a soft chuckle. 

“Well I wouldn’t be much of a superhero if I stood around and let a civilian get clocked for defending someone.”

You cocked your eyebrow at him and crossed your arms. 

“Yeah but you’re not in the suit, which means you’re off duty. Either way I’m grateful, I have a job interview tomorrow and can’t really show up with a black eye. It wouldn’t really say ‘hire me I’m even tempered and have a keen ability to moderate conflict in a calm respectful manner.’ ”

Steve smiled, letting out a sigh as he cast his eyes to the ground.

 “Oh sweetheart I’m always on duty, comes with the territory.” 

He looked up to see you watching him with kindness and understanding.

“I’m sure that must be a very heavy burden to carry,” You sighed. “I hope you can take a vacation or something soon. It looks like you might need one.”

To say Steve was enamored by you would be the understatement of the century. In the brief time he had spent with you, he had noticed that you were fierce, kind, honest, compassionate, and absolutely stunning. He found himself physically having to shake his head to keep from staring at you.

“I’m Steve,” he blurted out. “I feel like you already know that though. It was really nice of you to say that. Sometimes I only see myself as Captain America, no vacation days in sight.” 

Steve chuckled as you rolled your eyes at him.

“Y/N, and I mean it. You shouldn’t feel like you’re always on duty.”  

You pointed your finger at his chest.

“Besides, I’m a tough girl, I can handle myself. You should trust people a bit more Rogers.” 

You gave Steve a cheeky grin and started walking away.

Steve scrambled to follow you, not ready to have your conversation end.

“So, job interview? What do you do?” 

Steve easily kept your stride. When you chuckled Steve swore his heart skipped a beat.

“Would you believe I’m a victim advocate? I have an interview with the state prosecutor. I make sure anyone who has experienced trauma of any sort is represented and protected during court cases and criminal trials,” you stated proudly. 

“After what I just witnessed, I would have been more surprised if you told me you were an accountant.” Steve joked. “Would it be okay if I walked you wherever you’re going? I know you can handle yourself but I’d like to make sure you don’t leave a trail of broken men in your wake.”

You snorted out laughter. 

“Yeah wouldn’t want to get put away for attacking more skeezy men. That sounds great Captain, thank you.”

Steve smiled and kept asking you questions on your walk. He had this need to know everything he could about you since you blew into his life like a sunshower. When Steve got you back to your apartment the sun was just setting.

“Well Rogers, it’s been an interesting day,” you say, nonchalantly fiddling with your keys.

“I’ll say, I didn’t think my day would consist of watching someone stand up for another woman who almost got punched, then kneeing the guy in the balls.” 

Steve smiled.

“I am pleasantly surprised with the way my day turned out,” he told you.

“Well there’s a lot more where that came from if you stick with me Cap.” 

You smirked at Steve grabbing his sketchbook. 

“Here’s my number, if you ever need a little extra adventure in your life, call me,” you said. 

With that you turned the key in the lock and pushed yourself inside the apartment. Steve was left to stand staring at your closed door. He didn’t know what force drove you into his life but knowing you for those few hours made him feel more alive than he had in years.

[maybeacrowdedmind]

So I Just Finished Skam...

First of all, I loved it. It was an incredible show and I'm so glad that there are so many remakes because I enjoyed it so much. One of my favorite things about the show was the fact that it feels extremely realistic, and I think a lot of that is due to the fact that a majority of the actors were actual teenagers (rather than actors who are obviously in their mid 20s and playing characters who are 16) and the fact that the characters behaved like actual teenagers (like using Facebook and Instagram, using "bad" language, dancing and singing along to music, etc. etc.). The other thing I adored about this show was the amount of importance that was placed on friendship. Platonic relationships in fiction are normally vastly underrated or underdeveloped in favor of romantic ones, so I appreciated that Skam showed so many friendships. So I decided to make a list of my favorite friendship moments from each season (two moments per season, with honorable mentions at the end before moving on).

Season 1:

1) Noora cheering up Eva by singing Justin Bieber to her:

I am not a fan of Justin Bieber at all (if you like him, all the more power to you, but I personally can't stand him), but Noora singing to Eva was such a great moment. She knew how sad Eva was, and decided to cheer her up by sharing something that made her (Noora) happy, and it was a really sweet moment between friends. It was also something that is realistic to do when someone you care about is down, and even though it was a small scene, it showed how strong a friendship Noora and Eva have.

2) All of the bonding moments between Sana, Vilde, Eva, Noora, and Chris:

I know this is a vague one, but just the sheer amount of time the girls spend together, whether they are doing something important or just hanging out was really awesome to see. Most of the time, tv shows don't take time to show us little moments like characters talking about boys or just sitting hanging out unless it has a more dramatc purpose. With Skam, we got to see those moments, which made the friendship between the girls that much more realistic.

Honorable Mentions for Season 1:

Eva grabbing the wrong Chris for Vilde, leading both Chris and Penetrator Chris (love that nearly everyone calls him that in the show by the way) to share a huge hug and go "name twins!" because that's totally something I'd do if I met someone who shared my name.

Eva and Ingrid finally talking about everything that happened, giving them both closure and the ability to move on, even if their friendship would never be the same (this was such a great scene because it showed Eva apologizing and telling Ingrid that she couldn't change what she did, but she would if she could, and it also allowed Ingrid to be hurt by what happened with Jonas, because let's face it, Ingrid was the injured party in that particular situation).

Season 2:

1) Noora telling Vilde all of the important things that the ingredients for tortilla do for you, and Vilde later doing the same for Noora:

I love how all of the girls take care of one another, but this scene in particular I loved a lot. Noora has noticed that Vilde hasn't been eating, and after hearing Vilde tell her all the reasons she doesn't like potatoes, Noora tells Vilde all the reasons she should. Noora also does so in a way that isn't shaming Vilde or being condescending to her, rather, Noora brings it up in a casual conversation. Later, Vilde notices Noora not eating, and prepares tortilla for her, quoting what Noora told her about potatoes and eating it with her. I loved this scene because it showed how much Noora and Vilde understood one another, as well as the importance of support.

2) The amount of support given to Noora by the girls after she discloses what happened with Nico:

This one is a total no-brainer. Noora had no idea what had happened that night, and had very little to go off of, and she spent the next few episodes terrified. When she tells the girls what she thinks might have happened, they all immediately stop what they're doing and rally around her. The no-dialogue scene in which they take Noora to the doctor and hold her and keep her safe was incredibly touching, and to be honest, nearly made me tear up.

Honorable Mentions for Season 2:

Sana and Chris playing a joke on the girls at the cabin during their break, because that whole episode was hilarious, and the individual ways each girl reacted was totally in character for each of them.

All of the girls telling Noora that they knew about her and William, because it was the most obvious thing in the world, and Noora being sheepish and surprised that she hadn't been hiding it as well as she thought.

Season 3:

1) Jonas, Magnus, and Mahdi telling Isak what to text Even:

This scene was so funny, and not the type I usually get to see when it comes to male friendships. I love that Isak tells them that he has no idea how to reply to Even, and Jonas tells him what he should say, with Magnus and Mahdi inserting their opinions and talking about how they text girls. It was enjoyable to watch because too many times fiction shows us that boys don't have the same relationship confusion that girls do, and it's often not true. I like that this scene allowed the boys to just be boys, because everybody deals with uncertainty, especially when it comes to liking someone.

2) Linn and Even playing video games together:

I know this scene is literally like two seconds and that we only see them ending from Isak's perspective, but hear me out. I'm pretty sure this is the first scene we see that shows Linn actively smiling and looking happy. Also, Even had just come off of a manic episode, was feeling depressed, and when we see him playing video games with Linn, he too looks actually happy, which is always great to see. Plus, the way Linn and Even are interacting with one another, it looks like they've known each other forever rather than two people who have just met, and even though it was a fraction of a scene, it was super great to watch.

Honorable Mentions for Season 3:

The entire development of Sana and Isak's friendship (I almost broke my "only two friendship moments" per season rule for this, but I decided to stick to my guns). Isak and Sana have a great friendship and I love how it came out of nowhere. Their friendship is literally started by being partnered together for school, which only happened because Sana sat by Isak to tell him that she had the weed he hid (a beautiful start to a beautiful friendship).

Isak coming out to Jonas by telling him that he liked someone and giving him the hint that it wasn't a girl, and Jonas reacting by thinking about the hint for a minute and then going "it's not me...is it?" because the expression Jonas had on his face while he thought about who it could be was funny because it looked like the fact that Isak had just come out to him wasn't even on his radar, because he was more concerned about guessing right, and the fact that he guessed himself was humorous to me.

Season 4:

1) Chris being a total ride-or-die friend to Sana after the stuff regarding the hate accounts for Sara and Vilde came out:

Everybody needs a friend like Chris. She is without a doubt one of the most loyal tv show characters I've seen and I wish Skam had run for more seasons so we could get a Chris season (and a Vilde season and an Even season, and a spin-off for Eskild and Linn, who both totally deserve one). Chris is the first person Sana told about the Sara account, and the first thing she did was tell Sana that the hate would blow over if Eva found out the truth (because Eva and everybody else thought Isak was responsible for it, and Eva was pissed AF at him). Chris also made sure that Sana knew that she didn't hate her for what happened, because everybody screwed up (seriously, we all need a friend like Chris).

2) The girls showing up to the bus meeting in their own tiny bus named "Los Losers" for Sana, effectively showing all of the Pepsi-Max girls (like Penetrator Chris, that will forever be their name) that if you mess with one of them, you mess with all of them. Sana was terrified that the girls would never forgive her, and when they all show up in the bus screaming her name, the joy on Sana's face is practically tangible. I love that they all pull Sana into the bus and give the Pepsi-Max girls the finger as they drive off, because really, what better way to show the true bonds of friendship than by collectively flipping off a ton of girls who messed with one of their own.

Honorable Mentions for Season 4:

Sana and Even's friendship, and the fact that she protected and respected his privacy when Isak asked her why she never said that she already knew Even, because too many times do I see characters give away information to other people that isn't theirs to give, and the fact that it didn't matter to Sana that Isak and Even were together, she was still going to make sure that Even had a right to the details of his personal life was extremely important.

The conversation between Sana and Jamilla about their schooling and Islam, because the texts we see between them prior to their falling out show that they were very close, and it was nice to see them talk and reconcile, because that's how life works sometimes. You fight and fall out with people, and after time passes, sometimes there is reconciliation.

[scripturiends]

stole all the air from my atmosphere

Read on ao3

Summary: Han Joonhwi thinks maybe pulling all-nighters wasn’t so bad after all, even when you’ve practically finished studying ages ago.

Rating: T

Word count: 1,577

Notes: Inspired by a poem by Timothy Joshua. And totally optional, but I recommend listening to this song while reading.

~

Hey, all. Thanks for waiting patiently for an update. This fic is in response specifically to a request I received here. I know a lot of people have been requesting for a sequel to ‘gave me no compasses, gave me no signs’ as well; truthfully, I’m not sure if this fic is in the same ‘universe’ as that one — all I can definitively say is that this still follows the canon. So, I’ll leave it up to you to decide if it’s the same timeline or not. I have a lot of fic ideas lined up for an “official” sequel, anyway. ;) 

The Solhwi brain rot just gets more potent as we anticipate the new episodes — I absolutely love receiving plot ideas from all of you, and while it’s a challenge to interpret it in my own way, I still hope that it’s on par with your expectations. As always, I’d love to hear your thoughts and comments. You can send me a message anytime too! I know I say this often, but your continued support really really keeps me motivated to write. Would love to make new friends as well, if we can help it.

Okay, the note is getting too long now. As usual, the fic is under the cut, and all mistakes in this fic are mine. Enjoy! 

~

There was that moment, when you stole all the air from my atmosphere; when my heart pounded within the might of all the planets.

It’s the third time Han Joonhwi has bit his tongue in the past ten minutes, attempting to stifle his oncoming yawns, trying not to cause any disturbance. He fights his drowsiness as best as he can, hoping that his companion wouldn’t notice — and yet, as his luck would have it, the moment he couldn’t hold it in any longer just so happened to be the exact same moment the person next to him lifted her nose from the book it was buried in.

Without looking at him, she flips another page. Tone commanding but masked with concern, Kang Sol mumbles, “Just go to bed already.”

So much for being lowkey, he thought. Joonhwi stretches himself awake, thinking of the perfect response: casual enough to make it look like he doesn’t care, but caring enough that she wouldn’t push him away. “Not until you’re done,” he finalizes.

Sol scoffs, tossing her pen lightly on the table. “You don’t even take this class.” 

Well, of course he knew that. But Kang Sol A — truthfully, he prefers to omit the distinction: no matter how many Kang Sols there are in Korea, or hell, even in the entire world, he’s only got eyes for one — is not getting anything out of him. If getting Joonhwi to admit his true feelings was her goal, she’s far from reaching it.

“You know why I’m here,” he sidetracked. 

Unconvinced, she turns to him with a provoking look, and Joonhwi already knows she’s about to go on a long-winded rant. “Yeah, yeah, I do,” she started. “You want to hang out with me but instead of just asking like a normal person, you make up this lame excuse about how I need to study even though I was already planning on doing that anyway. You practically finished studying ages ago so you just sitting there doing nothing is really rubbing salt in my wounds.” 

He watches her with both his hands on his head, suppressing a smile. Finding an opening, Sol pushes his chest lightly. “I don’t need you here. Get out.” 

She said it so weakly that he knows there’s no way she could have meant it. Making sure she doesn’t lose her balance, Joonhwi quickly takes hold of her wrists and gently places them back on the table. “You talk too much,” he breathed. 

Sol purses her lips in annoyance and propped her chin up with her hand. “Yeah, well, that’s why you’re dating me,” she pouted.

If she keeps putting him in his place like this, he might actually have to walk out, but not for the reasons she’d expect him to, like his supposed exhaustion. Joonhwi knows Sol doesn’t do this on purpose, but she naturally has a way of making him flustered, and he’s trying really hard not to lose his cool right now. 

She stomps her feet lightly on the ground, groaning. “This is too difficult,” she complains, leaning her head on Joonhwi’s shoulder. 

Really, really hard.

It’s funny how Sol can say something one minute and then completely contradict it by the next. She says she doesn’t need him there, but clings onto him like her life depended on it. Not that Joonhwi was complaining — but he does want to have a little fun with her. He wanted to stir her a bit with something like, I thought you didn’t need me here? He knows she hates being called out for snappy remarks that she only ever means as a joke.

But a quick glance at Sol, in her favorite pajamas and one of Joonhwi’s sweaters, on the very rare occasions she has her hair down, bangs falling on her eyes, Joonhwi decided against it. Her vulnerability shouldn’t be treated with ridicule; it should be met with an equal amount of softness. After all, no one else but Joonhwi gets to see Sol like this — he finds that as a privilege which shouldn’t be taken for granted. 

“Okay.” He gives in. “Let me have a look.”

Joonhwi holds his palm out to ask for the reading material, which, as usual, Sol rejects. “Didn’t we already talk about this?”

He feigns innocence. “Talk about what?”

Her head feels heavy on his shoulder. “I need to be able to stand on my own if I’m going to survive law school hell,” she reminds him. “You can’t keep coming to my rescue for every little inconvenience.” 

“So this is just a minor setback?” Joonhwi teases. He couldn’t help it. 

“No,” Sol cries, “it’s a major obstacle.” 

She snuggles up against him, and Joonhwi could literally feel the heat rising to his face. Nonetheless, he lightly holds the side of her head for support and asks, “So what? Are you just going to give up?” 

“Of course not,” she mumbles, her breath hot on his neck. Joonhwi knows the law well, but he feels like this should be illegal. 

“But sometimes I wish I was just naturally smart like you.”

He lets out a soft sigh. Like many other things, the pair have talked about this before, and Joonhwi has never denied that he and many others have had a significant head start over Sol. But this is what he’d always tell her: 

“If everyone in this school had half as much of your wit, every crime in the world would have been solved by now.” 

To which she’d grimace and respond with, “Yeah, tell that to the F I got in Criminal Code.” 

But tonight was different. Sol wasn’t coming from a place of defeat, she was saying this out of frustration. She was probably thinking that maybe, had her life choices been different, she would have had it easier. That maybe, had she been as lucky in wealth and opportunities as everyone else, she wouldn’t need to work twice as hard as them. So that maybe, like Joonhwi, she could just comfortably sit in silence with him and enjoy his company. 

Right now, he’s treading murky waters and he’s afraid that one wrong move could give Sol the wrong idea. Joonhwi has never been the type to open up to people, but she never made it difficult for him to do so. With Sol, honesty was just the default. Telling her things he’d never entrust with anyone else came as easy as breathing. 

He takes her hand and gingerly intertwines it with his own. “I didn’t have it easy at the beginning either,” he admits. “Law school wasn’t even a part of my plan, and yet here I am.” 

This is at least one thing he knows Sol could empathize with. After being betrayed by the last person he’d ever expect to hurt him, Joonhwi’s life took a turn. To an extent, he was motivated by rage. But mostly, he was just trying to find a way to turn that pain into something useful, trying to make sure no one else has to go through what he did. And call him foolish for being too hopeful or optimistic, but he believes this is something he and Sol can do for each other. They’re two sides of the same coin: the law owes Sol an apology, and Joonhwi is coming to terms with the fact that he might never get one, ultimately being robbed of the opportunity after his uncle’s untimely death. 

Joonhwi knows his words bear significant weight to Sol. There’s a lot of things he wants to say to her but right now he just settles with, “I think you’re smart enough. If anything, you need to stop going overboard. What if you get sick again?”

She lifts her head and stares at him with doe eyes.

“That’s why I’m here.” He raises their interlocked fingers to show to her. “Why do you think I’m holding your hand? It’s so I can pull you out from under when you’re drowning in all of this.”

Sol slowly breaks out into an endearing smile, trying to repress her laughter but failing. “Heol. Han Joonhwi, since when were you so sentimental?”

Joonhwi doesn’t know where this newfound bravery came from, but he kisses Sol on the forehead lightly. “Since you needed it.” 

Sol blinks, her expression unreadable, and Joonhwi fears that he may have done the wrong thing. But much to his disbelief, she instead grabs him by the collar and closes the gap between her lips and his. They crash against one another in perfect rhythm, and Joonhwi mentally slaps himself for not doing this sooner. Never has he felt more at peace than at this very moment, which was ironic considering he was supposed to be the one doing the comforting. And yet, the lines blur when he realizes that even when their methods are vastly different, they’re at their best when they’re in tune with each other’s needs.

And right now, this is what he needs the most.

Much to Joonhwi’s dismay, Sol finally pulls away; they’re both out of breath. 

Still in a daze, he musters up the courage to ask such a stupid question. In fact, he’s surprised he could even speak at all. “What was that for?” 

“You’re not the only sentimental one here. If you’re going to kiss me, do it right.” 

That was when I knew, you were worlds more, than just a first kiss.

~

Send me your thoughts here!

[guacameowle]

Jumin Han’s Bad End 2 DLC - Notes / Opinion

Y’all know me. I have to take notes for everything I play or read or watch. I can’t help it. Here we have Jumin Han’s Bad End 2 DLC. The infamous bad end. The red shoes bad end. The “kinky” bad end, to some. Not my favorite bad end, but a memorable one. With that said, let’s dive in! Spoilers ahead!

Episode 1

This DLC has multiple endings! Interesting. Depending on how I answer will determine which end I get. This has me thinking there may be a way to get Jumin back onto a healthier relationship track? I will eventually aim to achieve both endings, though.

Jumin’s hand is fucking HUGE. MASSIVE. WHAT ARE THEY FEEDING HIM? Please hold while I scream at Kristan (jalaqueeno) about this. Holy shit.

It’s been one month since Jumin went to work. One whole month! Mr. Jumin Workaholic Han hasn’t gone to work in ONE MONTH! This man has made it his sole mission to keep you locked up & stay with you. Dude, like… why are you so obsessed with me~?

MANSION? They’re not in the penthouse anymore? I mean… there are worse cages to be kept in.

I am absolutely playing the answers that subtly suggest I am not ok with this new forced live-in situation.

HE’S TRACKING HOW MANY STEPS I’VE TAKEN. Wait until this man finds out I hate walking the mile…

Jumin continues to call this a game. Says he has a therapist on standby. Does he know that HE can use the therapist? In fact, I highly recommend it.

He says you can leave at any time. Color me suspicious. I don’t believe him for one second. How far is this “game” going?

MY PRECIOUS BABY DARLING SWEETIE PIE TOO GOOD FOR THIS WORLD WHOLESOME BEAUTY PERFECT CUPCAKE ELIZABETH 3RD HAS ARRIVED!

According to Jaehee, MC has been with Jumin for two months now.

Interesting how Jaehee makes a point to mention the mansion being untouched as this is where Jumin keeps his childhood toys. He brought you where he keeps his toys. Does he really see all of this as a game & you’re a toy? Can he snap out of it if you call for the game to end, or will there be backlash?

Some of these answer choices feel tricky. I’m trying to gently weasel my way out of this “game” without hurting anyone.

“Don’t say that to my master.” Listen, Jumin is my favorite man in this game, but that answer option physically made me cringe. Me? Call a man master? I could never. Not me. Not this bitch.

Wow. Ok. All this stuff with Jumin’s mom is moving fast. I can already see if he actually does lose her, it may make him hold onto MC that much more/harder. Maybe. 

Woah woah woah. I know Jumin is acting a little suspicious & out of sorts, BUT AIN’T NO ONE MARRYING HIM EXCEPT ME. ALL RIGHT? I’ll fight. I know where to get a bomb…

Excuse me? A fitness trainer? Yeah........ about that. I’m going to have to leave. Sorry this situation didn’t work out between us Juju. Best of luck, though!

Episode 2

My room is kind of cute! Wait, why the fuck aren’t Jumin & I sharing a room? If I’m locked up & tracked, you better believe I’m sleeping next to that dick.

Send a message to space? The fuck?

Oh. Duh.

“I heard that obsession comes from anxiety.” DING DING DING DING.

Omg Seven. You can’t just ask me to open my box. I’m seeing another man...

LONG HAIRED JUMIN?????

Jumin really didn’t have one woman in his life who wasn’t cold or weird to him. I know we already knew from his route he had a difficult upbringing. But I hadn’t expected them to dive into that aspect for this DLC but I can see how there’s the connection.

I told him I wanted to be alone to see if he’d respect boundaries.

OH SHIT THAT CHAPTER ENDED SO QUICK. DID I FUCK UP?!

Episode 3

So are we meant to see this adult Jumin, playing this “game” with MC, as him regressing within himself & falling back to enjoying fantasy? Avoiding reality? Something he didn’t allow himself to do as an actual child? He didn’t understand why people indulge in magic, fantasy, make-believe as a kid. Now he’s vastly overshot the mark to the point that this fantasy life with MC has become his “reality.”

DO NOT GIVE THIS BABY BOY WINE, I SWEAR TO GOD.

Omg. Little Jumin is so cute. I will fight everyone to protect him.

This woman done fucked up. Look at this child, you’ve given him anxiety. He doesn’t know if you want him to be mechanical or a normal kid. Jesus. All this Work Work Work No Emotion Work Only No Feelings bullshit is her fault. Jumin’s only doing what he was taught. He was told this is all he’s good for, all he was meant for.

“I feel like I am a tool. Sometimes I want to be treated like a son.” STOP. IF THIS GAME MAKES ME CRY. I’M GONNA FIGHT SOMEONE.

IF Y’ALL DON’T GIVE THIS LITTLE BOY THE LOVE & AFFECTION & CARE HE DESERVES

Jumin is obsessed with grape juice. Grows up to be obsessed with wine. Y’all made him an alcoholic.

“I am not like her. I will not be cold. I will be warm to my family…” JUMIIIIIN. THIS LITTLE BOY IS TRYING SO HARD! IT IS POSSIBLE JUMIN! AIM FOR YOUR GOOD & NORMAL ENDINGS!

SLEEPY JUMIN HAN CG

OH FUCK

OH FUCK ME

OH HELLO HUSBAND GODDAMN YOU LOOKIN’ CUTE AS FUCK

LET ME HOLD YOU JUMIN. YOU DESERVE TO BE LOVED & HELD & CARED FOR!

I think you have to choose the answers that gently pry you away from Jumin? He can’t force this relationship. It can’t be controlled by him. It isn’t a game. He needs to come to that realization, but he’s really not making that connection...

“I have never been involved in a deal outside a form of give-and-take.” Oh, that hurt. He doesn’t trust you to stay with him unless he can offer you something? His money/extravagance/keeping you in this “game” you started with him & him playing into it is what he has to do to keep you with him.

“Please show me that you love me. I want to know what love is.” Insert Explicit MC x Jumin Fanfic Here. I’ll show you, Jumin. I’ll show you all night long.

*Jumin snuggled closer* In my own personal canon, that means we FUCKED. SLOWLY. GENTLY. ROMANTICALLY.

Episode 4

The creepy lullaby music started up. Shit is about to go down.

Omg is this butler going to lock me in the basement?

Lmao did I fuck up with the “what’s a cage doing here?” reply? How was I supposed to know there wasn’t actually a cage there? No Jumin, I don’t want a cage. …. at least not for me, but we can discuss that later.

SHE WOULD LOCK HIM IN THE BASEMENT? That’s it. I’m fighting everyone. Stay behind me Jumin, I’ll protect you.

“Let me talk to her! I’d like a word with her!” LET ME AT HER, JUMIN. I HAVE SOME SHIT TO SAY. SHE’S DYING. I HAVE A SHORT WINDOW. LET ME AT HER.

Not little boy Jumin Shawshank Redemptioning his way out of the basement omggggg

JUMIN YOU WANNA FUCK? NOW? This man is sending me through whirlwind of emotions.

OH SHIT. I’m torn between the “whisper in his ear” option or the “let’s change our roles for just today” because as y’all may know, I enjoy being in charge.

Me: “Let’s change our roles…” Jumin: “Uhhh maybe we should leave.” Darling, you know you’re a submissive. It’s ok. No judgement.

FADE TO BLAAAAACK. THEY FUCKIN’.

I’M HOOTIN’ & HOLLERING. After the fade the black I said I would stay in my own clothes & Jumin says, “They’re dirtier than you would think.” DID THIS MAN JUST CUM EVERYWHERE? LMAAAOOOO

Happy End!

Ayyy we did it, lads! Unlocked the happy ending first. Even though we already gave Jumin a happy ending in that basement, you know what I’m sayin’~

LMFAOOOOO JUMIN STILL CAN’T DRIVE LMFAOOOO

Wait, turned our backs on everything? How the fuck is this the happy end? Happy for who? Jumin?

So… what the fuck was that?

The good ending just reenforces this “only us” narrative? The good ending is that this “game” Jumin & MC are playing doesn’t end? Nothing resolves. He doesn’t mend any relationships. There’s no healing or moving on. He exerts more of his control on MC & takes more drastic measures to ensure they’re together.

WAIT. DID WE JUST FUCKING ABANDON ELIZABETH 3RD TOO? ABSOLUTELY NOT. THIS ENDING SUCKS. ARE YOU KIDDING ME? FUCK THAT. PISS OFF, JUMIN HAN. I WON’T HAVE THAT BULLSHIT. YOU DID NOT JUST TURN INTO A PET ABANDONER RIGHT IN FRONT OF MY FUCKING FACE. I HATE IT. NO. I’M OUT.

The CG was hot, though. Jumin in black on black on black? AND GLOVES?! Hell yeah. That’s a whole meal right there. Delicious. 

Episode 1 (Attempt 2)

Well, time to try to get the bad end (????) now I guess. Maybe the bad end is that this game of their’s actually does break. That’s what I’m hoping for at least.

Jumin already making jokes about switching roles. Jumin, my love. I am more than happy - extremely willing & eager actually - to be in charge here.

Pretending to want all of this ‘being a possession’ nonsense is making me uncomfyyyy.

Episode 2 (Attempt 2)

“Do something Jumin wouldn’t like” Lmaooo it calls Zen. HAHAHAHAHA

I think Zen’s voice acting is some of the most expressive, in this whole game.

Ah, so then I guess turning on the computer let’s you talk to Yoosung.

Not Jumin deliberately cutting my call. The audacity.

Jumin, possessiveness can sometimes be cute. But in this case, I’m not having it. Not interested.

All the toys in the world didn’t keep Jumin entertained. BUT THIS PUSSY DOES.

Episode 3 (Attempt 2)

Flew through that one just choosing the options I didn’t choose before. Didn’t seem to glean any new information except the fact that Jumin no longer has a desire to form a family, says it entirely depends on how badly MC wants a family. Continues that narrative of, if MC wants it, he will provide it... to keep her.

Episode 4 (Attempt 2)

So we’re just going to leave gold bars in that safe?

Happy End Again????

It says I got Happy End again, even though I chose entirely different answers & went along with being Jumin’s possession...

OH WAIT, IT IS DIFFERENT!

I can’t believe my first meeting with Jumin’s mother is after he rawed me in the basement & had me put on a fantasy fairy tale princess dress to make our escape. Omfg. Ma’am, your son’s cum is still dripping out of me, please give me a few minutes to freshen up first. Goddamn.

Jumin’s mom is named Carolyn!

I can’t believe I’m in the middle of a family argument while Jumin’s cum glues my thighs together.

She ain’t sick. She’s lying. I’m calling it.

“Simple - make him soft” Jumin: “Like mashed potato?” LIKE MASHED POTATO? FIRST OF ALL, JUMIN SAYING ‘MASHED POTATO’ IS SO FUCKING CUTE I WANNA SCREAM. Secondly I meant, make him soft as in help him let down some barriers & let people in.

“I heard sons are psychologically bound to be attracted to women reminiscent of their mothers.” Ok yes, that may be true but you don’t have to remind me. Bleh. Stop.

“If my consort is to leave me one day, I will be scarred for the rest of my life.” I am sad for him. So sad.

ONE BILLION, TO BREAK UP WITH JUMIN? WOMAN, YOU ARE SOMETHING ELSE.

The “mind if I touch it” option fucking sent me. I’m laughing so hard. It is 1am. I might wake up my neighbor! I chose the “…..” option though. I’m sticking with Jumin through this. Let’s see what happens.

… I’ll loop back & choose the money if I can though to see what chaos occurs.

“This is exactly what people mean when they say, ‘So not cool.’” JUMIN. NOW IS NOT THE TIME LMFAOOOO

Jumin went back to work. All right, that’s progress. He renovated the basement on a happier note. Ok ok, small progress. 

“Now I wish to paint this entire place with our love.” TIME TO CHRISTEN EVERY ROOM WITH SEEEEX

THAT CG!!!!! AAAHHHHHHH!!!! WOW WOW WOW WOW WOW WOW WOW WOW!!!!!!

Looping back to choose more options for this episode...

CALLED JUMIN’S MOM AN OLD HAG & JUMIN LIKED WHEN I DID THAT LMAOOOO. I would like to call her a lot of things.

Final thoughts:

Long story short (too late), this DLC reenforces that this is a Bad Ending path, in which you won’t find a fix for Jumin, won’t find a way to get him back on track to his true good end. And that’s ok! This is a bad end after all! Though both endings are listed as “good” or “happy” endings, they’re still set in this twisted relationship, this weak form of love, Jumin believes is real. He calls it a game, says a therapist is on standby, says MC can leave any time she wants, yet when she chooses options that distances herself, suggests Jumin pay more attention to something other than her, or shows she’d like more freedom, he immediately blocks that path in some way. Even when choosing all the options that don’t give in to the plaything/being controlled role, the conclusion is Jumin reenforcing his control harder - you both escape together to be alone, neglecting everyone & everything in your life, & Jumin insists all he has to do is take care of you in various ways - to give you everything - to keep you with him. Even following the confrontation with Jumin’s mother & turning down the option to leave Jumin for money, it shows how far Jumin will go to keep MC. He truly believes he has to provide everything (money, security, possessions, etc.) in exchange for her love, her company, her willingness to be with him. This man has slowly been broken over & over again over the course of his life & he’s finally given in to these poor teachings & selfish encouragements, & has convinced himself what he’s found is full love where he provides anything & everything to keep MC’s interest in him. A clear give & take relationship. A contract. A game. And he’s not about to let that go.

Personally, while this path isn’t my favorite for Jumin, I was still absolutely impressed with the two different ways they had this particular Bad End play out. An emotional read from start to finish & back again.

[amerrierworld]

Just Pretend (pt 2)

Ocean’s 8 fanfiction

Pt 1: x

For anon

Summary: you go out for drinks with Lou, and introduce her to your friends for the first time

Characters: Lou x fem!reader, your friends, a cameo by Daphne

Word Count: 1,520

Warnings: Steamy fluff?

You stood, staring at yourself in the mirror, chest heaving with excitement. You still had a couple hours until your official date but you didn’t have the capacity to focus on anything other than spending time with your friends. And Lou.

“Hey, airhead, you still with me?” Daphne asked from the big walk in closet. “I’ve got a few things you could try on- I can’t guarantee they’ll fit, but I asked Rose to send all kinds of pieces.”

Daphne, bless her, was helping you get ready. After your little incident at the loft, with everyone watching, she was right up there with wanting to get involved and help you. It was just in her nature.

“Don’t you think it’s a little over the top, Daphne? I mean- it’s just a drink with some friends.”

“Uh, just a drink? Do you even hear yourself? Y/N, you’re going on your first official date with Lou. You think you can just whip out some sweats and call it a day?”

She was right, Lou liked being over the top. Her fashion sense alone showed that.

“Now, try this stuff on.” She chucked a load of clothing articles at you and you caught them hastily. You’d been wearing a thick, white bathrobe while waiting for Daphne to show you her collection and you'd been waiting for what seemed like hours.

You immediately flicked through some patterns you considered ghastly, despite Daphne’s tutting as you removed some of her choices.

After some negotiating and huffing between the two of you you came out wearing a turquoise floral dress; simple but alluring. The shade was just right to fit your skin tone and made you look even brighter than before.

Daphne gave a girlish squeal at the sight of you, a hand coming up to her mouth, almost tearing up.

“Oh, Y/N, you’re so cute. Gosh,” she grinned. “You look good.”

“Thanks, Daph,” you muttered, blushing. “It’s not, you know, too much?”

“What? Of course not. Here.”

She handed you a pair of pale blue heels that matched the lighter shades in your dress. Red lipstick and a curled hairdo; you looked like something vintage met up with something daring. You felt powerful.

Daphne kept gushing over you as you hurried to finish up. A text flew by from Lou, saying she was there to pick you up.

ready? ;)

“And if that idiot blonde leaves you on the curb you know where to find me, honey,” Daphne winked at you. Your cheeks flamed but you still hugged and thanked her for all the work she did before rushing outside where Lou was waiting for you.

She was clad in classic leather pants, a black button down and deep purple velvet blazer. Heels, always. Jewelry, always. Your heart fluttered at the sight of her, but Lou could hardly believe how you looked.

“Y/N? God, you look...”

She trailed off, looking you up and down and you giggled. 

“It’s not a usual outfit for me, I know,” you shrugged a little, arms wrapping around your middle protectively. “Daphne helped me.”

“Of course she did, but... god, really. Y/N. You’re stunning,” she pried your arms loose and her long fingers wrapped around yours. You felt giddy.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“The bar just two blocks away. It’s our go-to.”

“And you really want me to be- you know..”

“My date? Duh.”

“No, not just that, Y/N. Like...”

“Like, my actual girlfriend?”

Lou was nervous, you could tell. You’d never seen her nervous before. She was all coy and suave with your friends and now she was jittery right before your eyes as she nodded to your question.

“Of course, Lou. I like you a ton, why else would I have agreed to do this?”

“To please your nosy friends?”

“Well, yeah, that too.”

Lou looked unconvinced and you leaned forward to press a kiss against her lips. She melted instantly. When you pulled away she was back to smouldering eyes and her quirky smirk. Her hand gripped you tighter and you smiled happily. Now to face your friends.

-

They’d gawked when you came in; a couple fit for the cover of Vogue. You felt somewhat confident at their reactions, but also self conscious. This wasn't usually how you were with your closest friends if you just grabbed a beer on a Friday night. But this was with Lou, so it had to be special.

Your small group huddled around a high table with stools, so you could ease the pressure off of your feet. 

They immediately interrogated Lou in a light, bantering way. Looking out for you, while also being captivated by the hot, captivating woman you got to call your girlfriend. She easily spewed the fake identity of a mechanic at them rather than a con who once robbed an entire gala with you by her side, which was easy enough to believe with her expert opinions on bikes and the sort. 

“Well, Y/N, I must say we were all a bit worried when you were off to God knows where, but...” one of your friends commented. “We now know where you’ve been hanging out. It’s nice to properly meet you, Lou.”

“Likewise,” Lou said, winking at you from the corner of her eye as she sipped her beer. You could feel yourself falling more and more in love with the woman by the second.

“I’m sorry for stealing her away from all your outings,” Lou continued. “She’s just really been enjoying my... teachings in mechanics.” 

Your face burst into a flaming blush as she glanced over at you, the twinkle gone unnoticed by your friends who cackled at the joke. 

“Really? Motor bikes, Y/N?”

You shrugged, playing along after a deliberately harsh pinch to Lou’s thigh under the table as a retort for dragging you into her schemes and white lies. 

“Yeah, why not? There’s always new stuff to learn and experience. Bikes are cool.”

They prodded a bit more for updates between the two of you, and it all went  surprisingly swimmingly.  Lou had put a hand on your knee, warm and reassuring, sometime during the night as she got to know all your friends. 

When it was considerably darker outside and the clock began ticking into the AM, you all said goodnight, promising to call, text, whatnot. Lou slung an arm over your shoulder and you leaned into her touch as you left the bar. They’d invited the two of you to go drink at a friend’s place, but you knew from the way Lou had been looking at you all evening that was the last thing you wanted to do. 

The two of you hailed a cab back to the loft, Lou mentioning how next time you all spent time together she’d drive you fashionably late on her motor bike, no matter how close it was. It warmed your heart, how easily she got on and enjoyed your friends’ company. Whether she did it for you or she actually wanted to didn’t matter. Point is, she did anyways. 

In the car Lou snuggled into you, hot breath in your ear and you giggled. The cab driver seemed to disapprove but one glare from Lou at him made him quiet. You made sure to tip him extra. 

When you entered the loft, Lou held your hand and spun you around, making you slide along the floor on your smooth heels. 

“My beauty,” she grinned. “The mechanic enthusiast.”

You laughed as you pulled her closer. “The only mechanic I’m enthusiastic about is you.”

Lou lowered her hands to your waist and the two of you swayed to a non-existent waltz, the dimmed lights of the loft making for a vastly romantic spectacle. 

You both looked at each other with utter adoration and all your initial stress and butterflies from when she kissed you, met your friends and went out with you had disappeared. 

“You know, this is about the same spot where I kissed you the first time,” Lou mused with a flick of her locks over one shoulder. You surveyed the loft around you; abandoned but never lonely. 

“Hm, I suppose you’re right. Isn’t it terrible it was only the one time, though?” you teased, your hands trailing up from Lou’s shoulders to her neck. 

“Quite,” she said, feigning poshness. “Maybe we should rectify that error.”

“By all means,” you murmured. 

Her lips pressed against yours like a lock and key and you curled your arms around her neck to hold her closer. Her hands trailed down your back, over your  ass and down your thighs to tease at the hem of your dress before tapping your hip.

Taking the cue, you hopped up in Lou’s arms, who held you firmly and securely. You were amazed by her strength but didn’t relent as you leaned down and continued to kiss her lovingly. 

Lou probably had some intention of bringing you upstairs to the bedroom but your incessant kisses on her face proved too much for her. 

You barely even made it to the couch that night. Oh well.

A/N: Here ya go folks. I wrote this during a much-needed break during all my real-life commitments and deadlines (ugh) Let me know what you think, I’ll hopefully be opening up requests again soon so any other Lou-centric ideas you wanna throw my way I’m more than happy to take on ;)

[mcfanely]

Nightowls

Having someone be aware of a secret isn’t always a bad thing. It can sometimes be a relief even, the knowledge that someone else knows. That you’re not on your own anymore. That there’s someone to talk to. 

Chapter 09 - You Seem Happy, 2477 words

The walk back to the Monastery was pleasant that morning, even though they were a little later getting away from the studio than Cole would have personally liked. A full conversation with Chamille when the studio announced it was time to clear out for closing about actually organising a day to meet up with the other elemental masters; because there really didn't need to be a world ending disaster as an excuse to be in the same place at once. Then Lloyd and her had gotten to talking whilst Cole had excused himself to clean off in the bathroom; well that resulted in them leaving as the sun was cresting over the horizon line, more than an hour behind when he usually left. 

Lloyd could really talk sometimes. 

Yet it had been a relaxed silence since they'd set off. Cole was in a clean set of clothes, with a hoodie over the top to keep the morning chill away. The grass that sprung up at the side of the path was dusted with a light frost and a thin mist hung low over the lands. 

He took in a deep breath, enjoying the cool sensation that was brought with it. 

Then Lloyd turned to him, poised as if he was about to break the silence that had settled, which he promptly did, "So, that was fun." He grinned, shoving his hands into his pockets which didn't hinder the bounce in his step. "I mean, dancing is one thing, but you and Chamille not even having a plan?"

"Free-styling." Cole provided casually. 

"Free-styling. And a random song too, it was brutal giving you opera music, I mean, how do you even dance to that? Then you and Chamille were just like," Lloyd made a half-attempt at doing the robot, with an elaborated, "Woosh!" 

"And then, then Chamille was all like," An arm wave, a pretty good one if Cole's eyebrows shooting up was anything to go by. Though he just carried on watching the scene with a small smile, and the fact that Lloyd was basically dancing down the single dirt road that led back to the Monastery. It was a long trip, but he had a feeling it would go fast. 

"And then you were--" 

"Lloyd," Cole interrupted quickly, placing a hand onto his shoulder, "You haven't slept all night, you're getting your second wind. Take a breath."

Lloyd paused and did as he was told, though he was still smiling far too much for that hour of the morning. 

"You were so cool!" 

He'd said that multiple times already, and Cole was starting to believe it. 

"You can't tell anyone." He added after a short second and maybe half a block down the path. 

Lloyd kicked a pebble in his way, before nodding his understanding. He brushed some hair back from his face, "I know, I know. You said so earlier."

Even then, with that vein of conversation at a resolute end, Lloyd still looked like he had something to say. Cole tilted his head, "What?" 

"I'm not shocked you got into Marty's."

That was a bit off track, Cole rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment. 

"Yeah, well--" 

"You've been sneaking out for a while, haven't you?" 

There it was, the supposed crux of the conversation. Abrupt, but sort of expected if he was being honest. If he took into account the clear worry that everyone had expressed, it was obvious that this talk was going to turn into an insightful one-to-one. 

There wasn't much point in lying anymore, so Cole simply nodded, "a couple months."

He didn't miss Lloyd's wince, "Have you even been sleeping?" 

"Big talk coming from the guy who knows I've been sneaking out, staying up and spying?" 

Lloyd's eyes widened, then he schooled his expression and fixed his gaze on the path ahead. They'd get to a woodland soon, and then the base of a far too long staircase, then home. 

"Don't try and change the subject, Cole."

There was a nervous laugh, and he was more than content to let everything go back to silence again. Just the sound of crunching gravel beneath their feet and the intermittent noise of bones popping as Cole went through his joints to help release any pressure, but eventually the evasion tactic wore out, and he relented. "It started because I wasn't sleeping." He explained losely, "Or like, when I went to sleep all I had was nightmares." 

There, he'd said it. 

Lloyd seemed to falter in his walk, almost drawing to a full stop as he watched and listened with far too much maturity for someone his age, and too much focus for someone who was wide awake at near six in the morning. 

He was going to crash so hard around lunch time, Cole could tell a mile off. 

Yet this time, the silence was a physical feeling. Cole had finished making his point, it wasn't in depth, but it was there. Yet Lloyd's staring just brought more words to the surface, "Of, you know, when I fell from the Bounty."

There's a pregnant pause, and Cole cleared a lump from his throat. 

"It's all I could think about and I would just wake up panicking--" 

"Why didn't you tell anyone?" Lloyd questioned, with concern lacing his voice. 

Cole just brushed it off, but the worry was warranted. If it was anyone of his family in the same situation he was in, he'd be worried for them too. Maybe that was a testament to what they were actually feeling in that moment. He would feel hurt if someone kept something like this from him, since Cole knew he could help in some way. "A walk fixed it, I didn't want to annoy anyone."

"Cole, it's not annoying if you need help. We're all here to help you with whatever problems you have. That's what family's for." 

Cole shrugged, smiled, then focused his attention on some of the neon orange paint stuck under his nails. He picked at that, stared at it.

"I know that." he whispered. Of course he knew that, he knew that he could have turned to anyone and asked for help, or just someone to talk to and have them listen. Even Jay would have taken the situation seriously, he wasn't always so immature. Cole had to give him some credit. "I just… Found something that made me forget about my problems. At Nightowls, I have, like, a life." He paused, considering how that sounded, "Not that I don't have one at the Monastery, with you guys, but--" 

"It's something normal." Lloyd said. Hit the nail on the head. 

Yes.

Cole laughed, and nodded, "Yeah. I've never had that. My dad's a famous singer, I was expected to follow in his footsteps in some way, I went to Marty's and then I ran away, then I became a Ninja." his life, summed up. In a way, everyone's lives paralleled that in some way. Particularly the one he was talking to in that moment.

Feeling as though they had to follow in their father's footsteps only to realise that they had their own lives to live, even if it was vastly different from what had been envisioned for them. 

"You were really good, though."

Cole laughs. 

"You were, though. You seemed so… Relaxed."

Cole draped one arm over Lloyd's shoulder and pulled him into a sideways hug, which dissolved into him ruffling the younger ninja's hair to within an inch of its life. "Do I not normally look relaxed?" 

"No," Lloyd managed out in the midst of batting at Cole's hand and arm until he was released, at which point he moved over to the safety of the other side of the path. Not that Cole couldn't reach him from where he was situated, "recently you've looked tired." He sighed, then his voice dipped in volume, and he just sounded that bit more worried, "We've all noticed, you know? We knew something was bothering you." Lloyd admitted slowly, then "We just… Wanted to wait for you to bring it up."

At that point, Cole realised that him bringing the issue up would have probably never happened by his own choice. He'd planned to, that first night. Then he just hadn't. 

They eventually made it into the woodland, sunlight moving through the gaps in the canopy crafted by crown shyness, leaves dusting the road. 

"How're the nightmares now?" Lloyd's voice was loud amongst silence. 

Cole ran a hand through his hair, "Honestly, better." He admitted, then paused, "Actually, I haven't had one recently, I didn't realise that."

Lloyd smiled, "Because you've been distracted by sneaking away and having fun."

"I mean, yeah, technically I have." He smiled, "I've been spending days training and nights dancing, truly I am living a double life." 

They both shared a laugh. 

"I mean, you're basically a dance vigilante with that mask."

Cole gave Lloyd a deadpan expression, "Never say those words together again."

Lloyd smirked, "Ninja by day," 

"Lloyd--" 

"Dancer by night."

"I swear to the First--" 

Lloyd quickly moved forwards and plucked Cole's mask from his belt, then pulled it on himself. There was a bit of adjusting, and the elastic was a little too large, but he got it comfortably sat on his nose at least. 

In the light of day, it was a funny sight. Lloyd, entirely dressed in green with a bright orange mask on that was definitely not as impressive as it was in the dark. 

"This is uncomfortable." He said after a moment. 

Cole just nodded, "It hurts the ears."

Lloyd took it off and stared at it, "It hurts the nose too. I don't know how you wear this and dance, you could have put some cushioning in it."

"I don't notice it when I'm dancing."

"A dragon would have been cooler, and it would have made sense."

Cole took the mask out of Lloyd's hands and held it to his chest, "Wow, I know when my talents aren't appreciated." He smirked, "Besides, it's sort of a joke. Deception, no one knows who I am underneath--" 

"And no one knows what you do when you sneak out."

He just blanked that quip, "And wearing the face of a species that was nearly responsible for my death is sorta cathartic. I wear it and I have fun."

"You looked like you were loving it."

Cole grinned, "Yeah. I never thought I'd dance again, to be honest. Not like that."

They finally reached the stairs up to the Monastery and the sun was a lot higher than he would have liked. If it was early, they could sneak in and everyone would be none the wiser. Any time after six was when their absence would be noticed. 

So reaching the top of the stairs would end in an interrogation and questioning, most likely. Cole hoped not. 

Lloyd started on the stairs first, but as far as Cole was concerned they were always the worst part of the night. It was easier to go down them.

"So, planning on sneaking out again tonight?" the younger ninja asked as they began the climb. 

"I don't know, maybe?" He'd probably give it a rest for a day or so. His sleep was nowhere close to being fixed, but he knew that if he managed to stay awake for the rest of the day, there was no way he could pull another all-nighter. He did it once, and regretted his decision immensely. 

Also, he knew what Lloyd was actually asking about, "To be honest, I'll probably sleep tonight and go tomorrow. Why, you want to tag along again?" 

The silence that followed was an answer in itself, and Cole just laughed, "You're sleeping tonight too. If Sensei Wu doesn't have my neck for you being up most of the night, then I know Kai will."

"Why would they blame you?" 

"Because I'm the one in charge." Cole spread his heads as if it was obvious. 

"And it's not like they would know I've been awake all night."

"You're starting to look like you've been dragged through the Boiling Sea backwards and then faced off against Sensei Wu's chicken. You look tired."

"Touché."

As they neared the top of the stairs, Cole began fiddling with the mask of the strap. He had all his old clothes in a bag over his shoulder but it was already pretty full to begin with, and he didn't have the heart to try and push the mask in too. 

Which left him resorting to holding it subtly behind his back, using the bagginess of the back of his hoodie to shield it from view as they stepped through the gates and into the monastery. 

Into the middle of morning training. They were so going to get found out, Cole was so going to get busted for what he'd been doing. Lloyd was going to slip up, it was obvious. 

Even as Kai walked over, sword sheathed over his back and spiked hair drooping from exertion, his cut eyebrow was raised and his gaze far too analytical. 

He had been doing so well, too. He could already feel his heart rate picking up, but externally he forced himself to keep his cool, "Hey, sorry we’re late."

"You guys didn't even leave a note.” Was the immediate response, and it was tense, “It's one thing Cole not being here and not telling us, but both of you?" Kai questioned, and the speed of which his hands were moving was an indication of emotion that he was trying to keep in check. 

Cole winced lightly, "Yeah, sorry. I didn't think, my bad. We were just--" 

Lloyd quickly stepped forwards and gave a slight smile, which seemed to quickly sway Kai's mood in a second. Big brother instincts, they could dial back just as fast as they surfaced. 

"We just went on a walk, spoke a little." He looked back at Cole and grinned. "I should have written a note but I didn't. We sort of… Just needed to get out for a bit." 

He was covering, Cole realised. He'd probably been thinking of an excuse for the whole walk. Something he'd forgotten to even do. 

He had to force himself to not look impressed as the words rolled easily from Lloyd's lips. Even he believed them, and he knew the truth. 

Kai seemed to cool down, and looked at Cole, "Are you okay?"

He let out a breath, and nodded, "I am now. The walk was good. I'm all good."

"Good." Kai nodded, then added, "You know we're all here to talk to if you need it."

Cole just gave a light laugh and nodded, carefully keeping the mask situated behind his back, "Yeah. Yeah, I know. Thanks, you guys. That means a load."

He looked at Lloyd. 

"Thank you."

-

From the beginning

Ch 08 > Ch 09

AO3

Notes: And thus concludes Nightowls, thank you so much for reading!

[androgynousblackbox]

The anon tries to listen to POC, but often there's an extreme distance between how their Asian colleagues interpret a piece of media and how it's interpreted by American diasporas. For example, Asian friends interpreted the anarchist themes of Joker and praised the film, while the American fans focused on the fandom grown around the character and the "white characters get away with murder, Black characters don't get away with shouting" epidemic in American fandom and hated the idea of it. (1/2)

Anon observed similar situation with Shadow and Bone fans - Asian fans disliked how the racism subplot was executed, while American fans loved how the canonical couple is between two Asians (both actors are mixed & none of them is American, but fans neveral talk about the nuances). The anon's Russian self can't help but laugh at the Russianess being little more than poorly applied decorations in the setting. Of course, they're generalising, but those are the trends they observed happening. (2/3)

So, there's this. In Russia, Japanese teachers teach students how to wear a kimono properly and how to perform a tea ceremony while many Japanese Americans hate the idea of foreigners doing it. In several Asian countries, Joker became the face of rebellion while many Asian Americans see him as face of far right. Shadow and Bone has many Asian American fans, but the series is seen as clumsy at best by many Asian and Russian viewers. What do you think takes priority? (3/4)

The anon cannot write reasonably short, for which they are sorry! They remembered an earlier discussion about how Captive Prince is anti-Black and arguments like "it's not chattel slavery and the characters are not Black" are sealioning. But the story is written by an Australian and rooted in Australian understanding of race (the author is of the same raciallized ethnic group as the protagonist). The anon, who knows USA realities only from social media and fanfics, is really worried. (4/4)

Okay, this is a lot and before saying anything, I think is fair for me to say that I am nothing but a white latino on the internet trying to navigate english speaking fandom so there's only so much I can even say at all because my own knowledge is limited. I try to educate myself whenever possible but there's stuff I still have yet to learn. Having said that, yes, discourse such as any of these are always going to be vastly different from one culture to another because any form of racism is always intrinsically tied to the culture of the place where it happens. This is not to say that there aren't universal forms of racism, like how darker skin is generally considered less attractive or desirable on many places (including Latinamérica), but a lot of it is related back to the history of each country and whatever relationship they have to any particular race. The issue you mentioned of cultural appropiation is a very american one because america reunites so many people from so many different cultures that want to be seen and respected like everyone else. Again, not to say that it's not an issue on other places, but the way the discourse is handled and talked about is very much an american because of the way America is at the center of so many discourses and also the history of America dealing with different cultures, which is to say, not good. Anti-asian racism is a very well and alive thing right now that has resulted on hate crimes against asian just trying to live their lives, promoted and kept alive by even people in power who don't care about what happens to them. Imagine how terrible it is to hear a ex-president of America blame you, your family, your country, everyone who just looks like you, because of a disease that is killing other people. Your culture gets mocked, you get told cruel jokes about the food you eat, about your broken english, get questioned about stuff you had nothing to do with... and the same people who do that, then turn around and are using that same culture they treated less for to make themselves look cooler and trendy? And that doesn't translate at all in you being treated any less shitty, it just means that any meaning your culture had before is reduced to pretty things for other people to use and then forget about the moment other pretty thing caughts their attentions. Wouldn't that make you feel like shit? When asian american or black american or native americans talk about cultural appropiation, it's not about just saying that you can't do this or that because they are meanies who don't want to share their fun pretty things. It's about asking people to please reflect in why it's only cool when others do it but they don't, in how it feels insulting to see things that have a cultural significance to you reduced to a gimmick like any other, on asking why their fun pretty things can't be enjoyed by them and get mocked, insulted and ignored when they tried to do so. Sometimes it also means literally taking away business from communities that needs them without any recognition or payment. I have no clue about the history of Russia with Japan specifically, but if it's a Japanese person the one chosing to share that element of their culture with other people who, I assume, respect it and want to learn about, then that sounds like cultural appreciation for me and it's not at all what anyone in America is talking about when they talk about appreciation. Using a kimono and serving tea on a traditional way is a neutral act that only gains significance because of environment where it happens. About everything else... it's complicated and I am 100% with you when you say that it's very difficult to navigate as a non american don't wanting to come across as insensitive or uneducated or a full blown ass without meaning to. Unfortunately for us, the online discourse is not especially gentle for anyone who doesn't know everything American related and all the intrincated race relations on a first moment. I know this is especially hard for asian fans when americans ones want to insert their own

intepretations into their works just to make it look worse. I get it, because people say "listen to POC" but that really doesn't tell you shit of WHAT to listen for and how to understand when different cultural perspectives clashes with each other, which is almost entirely inevitable because we all come with our own cultural baggage. And even between two black americans or two asian people from the same asian country you could have vastly different opinions about the exact same topic because of them prefer to concentrate on different aspects of it. I guess the best thing to do is... do try to know what people are saying. If these group of people are saying this show is this or that, try to come to understand why they say it. And if other group is saying otherwise, listen to why. Sometimes you don't need to interject at all, sometimes your own opinion is not really needed, but at least try to see where everyone is coming from and realize that everything is an ongoing conversation where nothing is set in stone forever, especially when you account for reclamation, parody and other things that influence the way we percieve anything. Ask questions if you are confused, because you are going to be confused a lot and I am sorry, but that is part of the process. Read books if you need to. Google a lot, but also talk with people, watch videos of people talking about it and, if you want to engage, do it with a mentality of wanting to learn and understand. I hope any of this can be helpful at all. If not, I am sorry. I am still trying to figure out things myself.

[gothic-safari-clown]

The Mind’s Power Over the Body

Part 18: Unstoppable

Story summary: They only ever had each other. It had been that way since high school, ever since Elianna transferred to dreary Arlen and took Jonathan under her wing. They go separate ways for college, and when they're reunited at Arkham Asylum professionally, Elianna comes to find that they've both changed during their time separated. Can she look past the promise of danger and stay by Jonathan's side as they slide further and further into the darkness while she grapples to come to terms with the truth about herself? Can she accept what needs to be done in order to hold onto the only person who holds any meaning in her life? This is a very self-indulgent AU that draws from several different canons of the DCU and ignoring others, starting in the Batman Begins Nolanverse. This will follow the plot of the movie, although the timeline has been very slightly tweaked.

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10 / Part 11 / Part 12 / Part 13 / Part 14 / Part 15 / Part 16 / Part 17

Word count: 2011

This chapter is really dumb and cheesy just a heads up 😂 I wanted to dabble in old school fanfic while I wrote this one I think. Idk, it’s kinda cute

El had come to hate the weekends. There was no substance to her days off now that she knew the thrills offered by the wretch of a city. Jonathan wouldn't let her run his underworld errands with him; an attempt to keep her safe from Falcone, he said. While she understood and appreciated the sentiment, the result was dreadfully long and slow weekends. They couldn't go to Arkham to supervise the project, lest they draw suspicion, and if Jonathan wouldn't take her with him to meetings, it left her with very little to do in the apartment.

Luckily, the day after her nightmare Jonathan had no reason to leave the apartment. On the other hand, he had spent his day worrying over her incessantly. Well, as much as Jonathan could "worry incessantly" in his own subdued way.

He had let her sleep in for hours, made her breakfast when she woke, and she was currently curled up on the couch next to him with the softest blanket from his linen closet. He had even let her pick the movie they were watching.

"Hey, Jonathan?"

"Mm?"

"Am I dying or something?" He looked across the couch at her, confused. "You're being really nice today. Are you still 'being me,' or am I dying?"

"Oh. Neither." He fell back into silence rather than offering the explanation that El was looking for. She waited patiently for a minute or two, giving him the opportunity to explain himself of his own volition before sitting up with a huff and pausing the TV, moving to sit next to him.

"What's going on? Is everything okay?" El watched as Jonathan set his jaw firmly, releasing a long slow breath, all the while staring inscrutably at the coffee table. By the time he finally looked at her, the anticipation had made her too anxious even to admire the hue of his eyes as she normally would.

"Last night, you..." he trailed off and let out another sigh before continuing, "it made me worry. I've been thinking all day, and I'm wondering if maybe you would be better off leaving Gotham now and going somewhere without me." Whatever she had been expecting, this wasn't it. Her brow furrowed, and she struggled to organize her thoughts enough to argue as he spoke again. "I know you, and I know that that wasn't normal, and it wouldn't have happened if I hadn't gotten you involved."

"So what?" she sputtered. "Jonathan, you got me involved, but if I didn't want to be still involved, I wouldn't be. Don't worry about me. You're not responsible for my decisions."

Her words did little to soothe him, and he leaned against the back of the couch with his head tilted all the way back to look at the ceiling. "No, I'm not, but this is clearly taking a toll on you. I just think it might be better if-"

"I understand what you're saying, but you're wrong," interrupted El. "If I were to leave now, I would just worry about you more. Without me, you're on your own here, and it's going to take a lot more than some stupid bad dream to make me abandon you. I know that you can handle all of this on your own, but as long as I'm here, I'm going to keep supporting you in whatever ways I can."

He was technically right, to an extent; it wasn't normal for a nightmare to break her like that. But the fact remained that it was only a dream, and the fact that it had immediately followed a dosing of fear toxin only served to solidify her point further. It would never have affected me like that if I hadn't insisted on a second toxin trial.

Jonathan mulled over what she said for what seemed like ages, to the point that Elianna wasn't even sure where his train of thought may have taken him. Regardless, she knew that he must have been trying to come up with some absurd reason why she should leave anyway. Deciding to let him think (and knowing that she would win this debate with this move), she pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders and lifted his arm to slot herself against his side.

He looked down at her as she settled his arm around her back, only to find her already looking up at him patiently with big green eyes. Shit. He could never argue with her when she looked at him like that, and she knew it. He did his best to steel his resolve, but then she blinked at him so sweetly that he had no choice.

"Fine," he sighed, finally looking away from her. "But no more toxin. From now on, you're just helping me supervise, understood?" He felt her nod fervently and wrap her arms tight around him. How did she always manage to get under his skin so well?

"I can't believe you thought you could get rid of me that easily," she scoffed. "I'm here to stay, love. I left you behind once, and I'm not going to do it again." Jonathan was amused by the childish notion behind her words but appreciated the sentiment nonetheless.

He was silently glad that she had pushed against him on this particular issue. While he still believed that she would be safer away from the city, he really didn't want her to leave. She was too...important. As proven by how easily she could get him to concede just by looking at me, for fuck's sake.

"You know I would never try to get rid of you." Jonathan still faced difficulty coming to terms with her effect on him, but this time he didn't have the energy to fight it. Deep down, he knew that he had let her win, selfishly wanting her to stay. Unwilling to resist, he let his cheek rest against the top of her head. "Sometimes I might think about it, but I'm not stupid." He felt her laugh.

"Understandable." She tilted her head back to look at him, and he lifted his head from hers to mirror her gaze. A soft smile spread over her face. "One of these days, I'm going to get you to admit outright that you love me." She said smugly, undeterred by his impassive expression.

He could tell by the look on her face that she had begun speaking absentmindedly, but Jonathan found himself more focused on the conversation in his head; naturally, Scarecrow had his own opinion on what El had said.

She's got a point. We should just get it over with now.

That isn't what she means.

Sure it is! See the way she looks at us? Come ooonnn, what's the harm? If it goes south, I'll just take care of it.

You absolutely will not.

I still don't see why we shouldn't get rid of her anyway. Loose ends, Jonny. If she's dead, she can't snitch.

She isn't going to. She would have done it already, and she's never told anyone about everything else we've done; why would she start now?

Yeah, and why do you think that is? Principle? Honesty? She likes us, Jonny. If you don't take care of it now, then I will.

With that, the straw man retreated to the back of Jonathan's mind in smug silence. The ambiguity of Scarecrow's ultimatum made him nervous, as he was unsure of what Scarecrow's version of "taking care of it" might be. But Jonathan knew ultimately that his alter was actually right this time. All of the jokes, the affection, the trust, and when she looked at him the way she had done just a minute before...

It was almost terrifying to think that the woman he had held so dear for so long might harbor feelings for him, and the true rush of the unknown exhilarated him. As strange as it would be, Jonathan knew what he wanted to do and resolved on the spot to act upon it before he could talk himself back out of it as he was wont to do.

"Not verbally, necessarily," she spoke up again, "but one of these days, you're going to do something, and I'll kno-"

The rest of El's sentence was cut short by something that could not have caught her more off guard, and while some part of her seemed to process it immediately (judging by how hard her heart was beating), it took a moment for her brain to catch up.

Jonathan had interrupted her by cupping the side of her face with his free hand and, in one fluid motion, had tilted her head back more and kissed her full on the mouth ever so softly. Her mind hadn't yet finished racing with unanswered questions when her internal monologue switched abruptly to, "oh, fuck it."

At that moment, she didn't need to understand anything. By way of response, she lifted her own hand to close lightly around his wrist, keeping his hand against her face and returned the tentative kiss with one of her own.

Both of their stomachs exploded into butterflies, but for vastly different reasons. Jonathan felt a rush of relief from the reciprocation and a flutter of nervousness caused by sudden instability for the future that it implied. In the same moment, Elianna found an emotional release and a thrill caused by the same unclear future, eager to build something new, powerful even.

Whatever her motivation, when El kissed him again, Jonathan was more than eager to return the action, and all of his apprehensiveness began to melt away. It was a rare moment of clarity for him, as he found himself truly in the moment. She had kissed him. Things that had been so important to him only minutes before were suddenly irrelevant, and when El pulled away and buried her face into his neck, holding him so tight, he was all too glad to squeeze her closer.

He thought that he had never been more determined to do anything as he was to keep her safe previously, but having finally given in to the impulse that he had been repressing since their teen years, Jonathan realized his previous resolve had been trivial. This, with all of its implicit devotion attached, changed everything so drastically. Nobody would ever hurt her again; not Zsasz, not Scarecrow, not anybody.

It was a good feeling, if a bit overwhelming. Following his new theme of letting himself enjoy the things he wanted, Jonathan allowed himself to feel at ease, content. He even cracked a smile when a small voice chimed, "I told you so," from somewhere near his collarbone.

"Yes, you did." He stroked back her hair and left a lingering kiss on top of her head, and felt her delighted smile split her face as she hugged him tighter (if that was even possible).

"Now you're really not getting rid of me. You know that, right?"

"I know. That's what I wanted." El hummed happily in response, breathing in the smell of his clothes. Being wrapped up against him like this felt...right. Like this was what their entire friendship had always been leading to, and now that it had been fulfilled, nothing could stop her.

Ever at the whim to her desires, and knowing that Jonathan couldn't be relied on to do the same, El straightened back up to stand on her knees and captured him in another kiss, deeper than before. With no protest, Jonathan locked his arms securely around her waist to keep her close and responded in kind.

Everything else forgotten, the new couple passed the day away in a world of their own making, testing the limits, and exploring new possibilities. Totally focused on each other, they both forgot everything about the killing of the city, the crimes they were committing together, the hells they had been put through, all of it wiped away; with every kiss, every gentle touch, every movement erased every atrocity, past and future. The new, stronger nature of their companionship made them unstoppable.

[sunfloweradoring]

the one with the terrible first date

Hi! So if you were wondering I was thinking of structuring the page like the stories with ‘the one with...’ being in chronological order. Obviously it’s totally fine to dip in & out whenever & to whichever story but I’ll refer back to events or things that happened in previous pieces. However, if you guys had specific requests whether they’re about one of the ‘the one with...’ stories or just in general I was thinking of doing some blurbs or mini one shots potentially connected to one of the stories if you just dropped me a message of what you were thinking. I hope this makes sense!

Anyway, enjoy this disastrous first date :) xx

masterlist

word count: 2.8k

Ever since the party 10 days ago Harry and I had been in contact almost nonstop. We’d only spent a matter of hours chatting that night, but I felt like I’d managed to gain some sort of understanding of him as a person in that time; whilst I was kind of right about that, in the days we’d been texting and sharing the occasional phone call, I was starting to realise what a genuinely kind-hearted guy he really was.

Each call or initiating message from him always started asking about me: how I was, how my day had been, what I was going to be doing the next day. Somehow he also managed to shift the focus off himself to me, making me feel like not only did he really care about the answers to these queries, but that I was the centre of his attention.

Therefore, when one Tuesday evening (after a particularly boring day trawling through a couple of scripts sent to me by my agent) Harry asked if I wanted to ‘go out sometime over the weekend’ I felt an eruption of butterflies in my tummy and a stupidly big grin take over my features.

‘yeah, that’d be cool :)’ I replied, trying to vastly underplay the amount of ‘cool’ it would be.

‘great :D’ He responded, ‘what are you doing saturday night? would you maybe wanna come round mine?’

‘that sounds like fun, do you want me to bring anything? we could have a movie night or something’ I texted back, already starting to feel slightly overcome with excitement as my hands felt a little sweaty as they tightly grasped my phone.

‘you let me worry about everything! send me your address and i’ll pick you up at 6:30, just bring yourself and your beautiful face ;)’

                                                          --------

“What are you gonna wear, then?” Saoirse questioned, leaning back against my headboard with her legs crossed out in front of her. I stood with my hands clamped to my hips, nearly half my wardrobe strewn out across the floor as I’d panicked earlier to find something to wear Saturday.

“Well, that’s the million pound question, isn’t it?” I huffed, pushing my hair out of my face as I inspected the various items of clothing cluttering up my bedroom carpet. “I don’t actually know what we’re doing so how am I supposed to know what to wear!”

Saoirse let out a little laugh as she swung her legs off the bed, pushing herself away from the mattress to stand beside me. “Okay, no need to get stressy. We’ve got the rest of the evening and all of tomorrow if we need it so just calm down.” She soothed, gently placing her hands on my arms as she guided me to take a seat on the bed. “What about this?” She questioned, leaning down and retrieving an emerald green knitted jumper from the pile and holding it up to her chest. “You could wear it with a skirt, or some trousers, jeans maybe. It would look really cute. Brings out your eyes.” Her words seemed to flow like a stream of conscious, her mind running away with her as she chucked it onto the bed beside me. I gathered it, holding it on my lap. It was my favourite jumper, but did it really shout first date?

“Those jeans are nice.” I spoke, leaning over the little rail at the end of my bed and pointing down to a blue pair of jeans. Saoirse glanced up at me, her eyebrows pulled together. “Um, no.” Was all she responded with.

                                                         --------

“Right, so you’re both going to the cinema and then having some food?” My aunt, Rose, confirmed, hands submerged in the sink as she washed up the dishes. I nodded tentatively. I’d lived with her long enough for her to see straight through me and now exactly when I was lying; thus I hoped if I kept my speech to a bare minimum I may be able to get away with it. “Alright, well I hope you and Saoirse have a nice time, say hello to her for me.” Rose smiled, glancing at me before returning to her task. I released a silent breath before leaving the kitchen, going to the front door.

At 6:28 I wanted to be at the front of the drive to avoid anyone from the house seeing Harry picking me up. As far as they knew, Saoirse and I were having a friend date and that’s all they needed to know. 

“Bye!” I shouted behind me as I pulled the door closed, zipped up my blue puffer jacket and ran down the two porch steps and stood at the end of the drive. With my hands stuffed in my pockets to protect me from the late winter chill, I tried to shield my face as best I could in the top of my jacket. 

I’d barely been standing there five minutes before a car slowed in front of me, the passenger window lowering and a head popping out over the passenger seat. I bent my knees a little to allow me to see inside the car.

“Hiya! Sorry I’m a little late. I think it’s the universe’s law that if you’re going somewhere for a certain time, every single red light has to hit you first.” Harry chuckled, unbuckling his seatbelt and reaching for the handle of the driver’s door.

“It’s fine! Don’t worry.” I giggled, reaching for the handle of the passenger door. “Only like two-”

“Wait!” Harry squawked, shooting out of the car at the speed of light and running round in time to gently bat my hand away from the handle. “That’s my job.” He grinned, pulling open the door and gesturing with his hand for me to get in. I blushed a deep crimson. Fingers crossed he couldn’t see as I nipped into the car.

“Thank you.” I spoke shyly as he himself got back into the driver’s seat. He shot me a smirk as he started the car again.

“What kinda gentleman would I be if I let m’lady open a door for herself?” Harry joked, adopting a both accent as he drove away from the front of my house. The butterflies that had been dancing away inside my tummy since Tuesday suddenly became a frenzied explosion at his words; how on earth was I supposed to come with him saying things like this the rest of the night?

                                                         --------

Harry’s little apartment was warm an cozy - a needed escape from the frosty outside. It was small and quaint, but what more could you expect of a 17 year old, really? 

“Welcome to my humble abode.” Harry spoke, flicking on the light to illuminate a modestly decorated studio flat. He closed the door, removing his coat as he gestured to take mine too.

“Thank you.” I repeated in the same tone as before, shimmying out of my jacket. 

“So I made us dinner, and we can watch something afterwards if you still wanted to. But let me just put the food back in the oven to warm it up, yeah?” He smiled, his hand ghosting over the the bottom of my back as a way to guide me through the flat.

“It already smells really nice in here.” I complimented, breathing in the aromas of the food he’d obviously prepared earlier. 

“Ye haven’t tried it yet.” Harry jested with a little laugh. “But thanks, it’s one of my mum’s recipes I think. She told me it would be a good thing to make for a first date.” He explained, placing two covered dishes into the oven and turning it on. 

“Can I ask what it is, or is it a surprise?” I questioned, attempting to glance under the foil before the oven was promptly closed.

“Oi, no it’s a surprise!” He interjected, quickly moving his body in front of the oven. There was only a matter of inches between our faces, causing (for the second but most certainly not the last time) a blush to sweep my cheeks. “Right let’s see what film we can start while we wait for that to heat up.” His voice was far softer than usual, his eyes momentarily darting between mine and my lips. 

                                                        --------

I sat on his little sofa, flicking through the little booklet of DVDs he had stored. 

“When In Rome?” I questioned with a little laugh. “What’s a guy like you doing with a film like that?” I teased, looking up at him as he stood in front of the telly, hands holding the remote. 

“Heyyy,” Harry laughed, voice a little whiney. “I can be in touch with my feminine side, you know. I actually quite enjoy the odd RomCom.” He said, taking a seat next to me, his knee grazing the side of my jean covered leg.

“Sorry.” I giggled, continuing to flick through the pages. “Just never put you down for someone like that.” I shrugged.

“Oh? Then what kinda person did you put me down for then?” He smirked, leaning back into the sofa, his head propped in his hand as he elbow rested on the back of the cushion. 

“I don’t really know, maybe like every other teenage boy: too cool for this, and too busy with girls for that.” My words were intended as a joke, but there was a little part of me that perhaps thought there was some truth in it.

“No, no, no, definitely not.” Harry shook his head and sending his curls in every which direction, sitting up straighter. “My mother taught me to respect women, taught me to be kind to others and that you’re never too good for anything.” He said. A smile formed on my lips. He really was a true gentleman, wasn’t he?

                                                       --------

“And then it just kinda went from there.” Harry summarised, sipping from the glass bottle of coke. “Just went on there as myself but I think it’s pretty cool I’ve come out in a band. Who knows, could be the next Beatles.” He laughed. “Nah, we may get somewhere but nothing like them. They’re legends.” 

Before I could reply, my nose scrunched in displeasure at the new waft of smells assaulting my nostrils. “What’s tha-” The shrill beeping noise of the fire alarm cut me off.

“Shit!” Harry shouted, leaping up from the sofa and dashing towards the oven. As he wrenched open the oven door, a pillow of smoke tumbled out, causing him to cover his mouth and nose with his elbow as he attempted to turn off any heat source making the situation worse. “Shit, shit, shit, shit.” He chanted to himself, grabbing the oven gloves and pulling the two dishes out of the oven, placing them on the side and pulling of the foil covering. “Well that looks delicious.” He sarcastically observed, standing to the side as I walked up next to him. The food was entirely black, charred beyond belief. 

“Oh my god, Harry.” I pursed my lips together to prevent the laugh that was attempting to escape. “I’m sorry. I thought it was gonna be really nice.” I cleared my throat, wafting the air around with my hand. 

“You can laugh.” Harry spoke with a grin, bumping his hip into mine playfully. This seemed to unleash the giggles that had been hiding in my throat. “I just wanted to impress you.” He quietly whined. I slowly calmed down, holding out my arms in a offered hug. He pushed the oven gloves off his hands, walking towards me and wrapping his arms around my wait as mine encircled the back of his neck.

“You don’t need to try and impress me, Harry.” I spoke quietly, my lips near his ear. “I wanted to come on this date because I like you, not because I think you’re the next Jamie Oliver.” 

“Well I clearly showed that’s not in the near future, didn’t I!” He chuckled, his chest rumbling a little against mine.

“Let’s just order a pizza or something, yeah?” I offered, pulling away enough to see his face before he eagerly nodded. 

“You go sit down, I’ll get you another coke and I’ll order the pizza.” He smiled, quickly stealing a kiss from my cheek before he released me. “Anything in particular you want?” 

“Honestly anything, just not mushrooms.” I replied, turning around and taking my place on the sofa once more.

“No mushrooms? Are you like 5?” He joked, shooting me a wink as he picked up the phone to order the replacement food. I just giggled, shaking my head at him. 

He quickly ordered the pizza, going to the fridge and retrieving another bottle of coke. “Here ye go. Thanks for not freaking out about the food.” He smiled, getting a bottle opener to remove the top before walking in the direction of the sofa. What he hadn’t foreseen was that, in his panic to get to the oven only moments before, he’d managed to move the edge of the carpet into a folded position.

“Har-” I began but before anything else could leave my lips his sock covered toes connected with the dislodged carpet. His eyes widened in shock as he tripped forward towards the sofa, his hands going out to protect his fall, the bottle of coke flying forwards and spilling all over me. I shot up from the sofa, gasping at the sudden event.

“Oh my god! Oh my- Fuck, Y/N I’m so so so so sorry!” He panicked, jumping to his feet and approaching me with his hands held out to do something, yet he didn’t know what to do. 

“Um... it’s okay... uh do you have a towel or something before it goes everywhere?” I asked, looking down at my soaking jeans and the darkened material of the bottom half of my green jumper. 

“Uh, of course, yeah, let me just grab one.” Harry quickly ran off into the bathroom, coming back a second later with a towel. “I’m really sorry, Y/N. God this is terrible.” He muttered the second part of his sentence, handing me the towel as he stared at me. I wrapped it around myself, trying to soak up any of the liquid it could. “Here, let me get you something to change into. Can’t be sat there in those now.”

“Harry, it’s fine, honest-”

“No! I’ve been a twat, one sec.” Again he dashed off, coming back a moment later with a hoodie and a pair of joggers.

“Thanks, Harry.” I gave me a reassuring smile as I took the clothes and went to the bathroom to change. As I closed the door I could see him sat on the dry part of the sofa, head in hands. Poor boy. I looked at myself in the mirror, silently laughing to myself. This was certainly not how I was expecting tonight to go!

                                                      --------

“God I can’t tell you how sorry I am.” Harry spoke, both our bellies now full with pizza as he walked with me to the door, grabbing both our jackets. I giggled at him as I put my jacket back on.

“Seriously, Harry, don’t worry about it. I’m literally the clumsiest person ever. It could have happened to anyone.” I replied.

“Really, the clumsiest?” 

“Okay,” I laughed. “The second clumsiest.” I jested, gently poking him with my elbow. “But you could do something to make it up.” I shyly added, avoiding eye contact. I could see his head snap in my direction.

“Anything! Yes, what is it?” He asked, stepping a little closer, but still remaining respectful with at least a few feet between us.

“You could give me a goodnight kiss.” I looked at his face, watching as his features seemed to light up.

“You still want to kiss me after I burned the food and tried to drown you in coke?” He asked, tone somewhat hopeful as he closed a little more of the space between us. I simply nodded my head, a little smile curving my lips. 

Harry’s grin remained prominent, his hands gentle as that came onto my waist, removing all the distance that was left between us. The intensity of his stare I had felt at the party was back, but I didn’t really have time to process it before we were both slowly leaning in to one another. 

His lips slowly pressed against my lips. The warmth of his skin against mine and the way neither of our mouths were entirely closed due to the fact we couldn’t stop grinning sent shivers shooting across my skin. His right hand left my waist, moving to cup my left cheek. My arms went around his middle, a sigh of pleasure leaving my lips as he pulled away, just enough to put a small amount of space between us so he could look me in the eye.

I think I could get used to that. 

[ask-ethari-anything]

I am BLOWN AWAY that a) no one has asked for and b) you haven't yet told your wedding story. We should fix this. Go! *waits, eagerly, chin on hands*

No no no, don’t ask Runaan, he won’t tell it right. This story takes a while, and I needed to be in the right frame of mind for it, but I’m here now. Sitting comfy? Here we go.

The day dawned bright–for the Silvergrove–and I woke up for a moment, unsure where I was. One of the many Moonshadow wedding traditions is to spend your last night before your wedding in the place that represents what you’ll bring to your marriage. For me, that was my workshop. My gifts had already kept Runaan safe, my skills made him more efficient. I knew that was going to be my role in our union. So I slept on the floor by my forge, nice and toasty. 

Tiadrin was my heartguard all night–she parked herself outside my door and stayed awake with a sword in her hand. Sometimes Moonshadows test the heartguards by trying to sneak up on them to see if they’re actually awake, because what’s a Moonshadow ritual without the occasional sanctioned prank? But Tiadrin chased everyone away and never even woke me up.

She and about a dozen other Moonshadows made me the biggest breakfast I’ve ever seen. Moonberry syrup on everything! And Tiadrin cracking dirty jokes that set everyone giggling, but only when I’d just taken a bite of my breakfast! She did it on purpose that way, I know she did. That evil grin of hers… I don’t usually blush, but she got me very blushy that morning. 

When I was stuffed to the gills, they helped me get all fripped up in my Moonshadow finery. Shimmering white trousers under a floor-length, split-sided white tunic covered in embroidered runes full of love and good fortune. I felt so pretty. And kind of badass. The tailor managed to make my shoulders look even wider than they are–enchantments everywhere, you know–and I got to wear my pretty white slippers for the first time. I got my turquoise hornflowers attached and the mantle hooked into my doublet so I’d look all swoopy walking down the stairs. All the silver rings I’d made, with all their swirlies and gems, winked on my fingers and my ears. Tiadrin even coaxed a few beaded braids into my hair and tucked in a couple of dark lovebird feathers. Lastly, several of them brushed some glittery mothdust on my cheeks so I’d be especially gleamy in the light.

When she was done prettying me up, Tiadrin looked me up and down and teared up a bit. “Runaan’s going to be speechless,” she told me.

“Don’t worry. He always finds other ways to express himself,” I replied.

Apparently saying that on your wedding day is hilarious. Cue more blushing from me!

When the time came, my friends escorted me out and down the long winding staircase, with Tiadrin taking me by the hand and leading the way, and honey, let me tell you, I could hear the gasps from the elves down below. The whole village had crammed itself around the edges of the pool and up above the stone steps across the way, all in their own finery. But I only had eyes for Runaan. 

He stood below by the pool, watching me like a hawk as I came around the curve of the stairs. Dressed very like me, but with darker hints in the embroidery on his tunic, and the hornflowers he wore were deep purple. I couldn’t help it–I blew him a light little kiss from my fingertips. I may have sparked it with a bit of moon magic because I was so excited! The way he reacted, you’d think I was some hero of myth deigning to look his way for the barest second. He practically fangirled! Made me feel very loved.

Tiadrin made sure I didn’t fall off the stairs, and she led me to Runaan, who had his own heartguard in Lain. The two of them joined our hands for us and stepped back, and Runaan and I just stared and stared and smiled and smiled. With Runaan, you can have a whole conversation with silent expressions, and boy did we have one then. He was nervous and excited and relieved and exhausted and so ready to be married to me. I wanted to hold him close and never let go. But our day was just starting.

We promenaded together around the ritual pool three times while the village sang a traditional wedding song for us. Then Lain and Tiadrin wrapped our right wrists with pieces of white ribbon, Once the Binding of the Hands was complete, we led everyone up to the village green where there was a lot more room for the actual ceremony. Runaan squeezed my hand tight as we walked side by side, and his palm was damp and hot. I squeezed back even harder and nudged his shoulder. “I’ve got you, Runaan. Now and always.”

Moon help me, the look on his face. Like he couldn’t quite believe it, but it was exactly what he needed to hear. He hovered somewhere between grinning like an idiot and crying with overwhelming love. “Still up for marrying me, then?” he asked.

“Only because your horns are so cute.”

“I grew them special, just for you.”

“Such dedication! I’ll be sure to admire them thoroughly every morning, along with the rest of you.”

At that, Runaan blushed hard. Wedding days are so much fun.

The village council gathered around us in a circle, holding hands, while Runaan and I held each other’s hands in the middle. They asked us the ritual questions in turn until we’d gone all the way around. I knew my answers, of course. But seeing Runaan stare deeply into my eyes and recite the ways he would care for me for the rest of my life… hoo, that went straight to my soul, and my hands were the ones that got hot. He got a little misty when I answered the question about the ways I’d love Runaan, and my answer went on about putting my gifts in his hands so he could perform his duty and serve his people. I could’ve said lots of things there, but I knew that answer would please him most.

The final question was this, chanted by the whole council at once: “You’ve spoken your intent. Runaan, Ethari, how will you show us that you have chosen each other as your beloved match and bonded your hearts together, forsaking all others and holding to these new-made promises, in life, in death, and in the balance thereof?”

Runaan and I turned to our heartguards then, and Lain and Tiadrin stepped into the circle, each bearing a soft pillow with a pair of horn cuffs on it. Runaan slid his pointy cuffs with the turquoise gems onto my horns, and I slid my swirly cuffs onto his. Moon above, he looked so handsome properly cuffed. I thought my heart was going to beat out of my chest!

And then we kissed. We joined our right hands together, the bindings glowed white, and we totally made out in front of the whole village.

Lain and Tiadrin shouted the loudest, but the whole village lost their minds and tossed handfuls of flower petals around us. In the middle of a blue-and-white floral rain, I got to pull my husband into my arms and kiss him for the very first time. I know I was happycrying first, but Runaan let his feelings pool in his eyes, too.

And way before we were ready to let go of each other, the big drums started across the green. Lain and Tiadrin dragged us over for dancing, and we stood in the center of several concentric rings of elven pairs and danced our first wedding dance together. It’s still one of my favorite things to do with Runaan, that exact dance.

We danced the morning away, ate lunch, and danced some more. I danced with just about everyone in the Silvergrove! So did Runaan, but he vastly preferred to dance with me instead. After lunch, the games and stories came out, and everyone relaxed for a while on the grass. Lain gave a long and rambling speech about how Runaan had been too flustered to tell me how much he loved me and needed some friendly assistance. Tiadrin’s speech was far more, ah, direct, and her comments on the speed and content of our courtship left Runaan moonberry red amid teasing laughter. I held his hand tightly and whispered, “Don’t worry. I’ll fix you right up tonight and we’ll really give them something to talk about.”

Well, that didn’t help with his blushing, but he looked me right in the eye and said, “We’d better leave the window open so they can quote me properly.”

We giggled so hard, with our foreheads pressed together and our fingers interlaced, stealing kisses like the lovestruck fools we were. I told you wedding days are fun.

The sun set and the full Moon finally rose, and we danced and danced some more. Things get pretty wild when everyone shifts into full Moonshadow form and dances after a few glasses of moonberry wine. Flowers and bracelets and shoes tossed everywhere. Some of the couples disappeared into the shadows. Runaan and I tossed our mantles aside and really upped our dancing game. His hair came loose and swirled around us, and I lost my hornflowers to a spiraling dip that left me dizzy and gasping in Runaan’s arms.

There’s a fun tradition where the wedded couple tries their best to sneak away from their own wedding at the end without getting spotted. It’s very Moonshadow, and it hardly ever works. But Runaan was determined to get away with it, and he enlisted Lain and Tiadrin to help us. Around midnight, everyone paused for refreshments and stood chatting excitedly. Runaan and I stood together in plain sight and murmured to each other, seeming like we weren’t going anywhere, until people stopped watching us to see if we were sneaking off. Then Lain and Tiadrin picked up our mantles–and my hornflowers–from the other side of the green, put them on, and darted along the treeline just long enough to catch someone’s eye. The moment the cry went up that the newlyweds were trying to slip off together, Runaan and I held hands and dashed in the other direction. I was trying not to giggle, but Runaan was very focused and didn’t make a single sound.

We got away clean, of course. Runaan’s plans never fail. Once we reached the tree house, I pulled off my white slippers, and Runaan’s–totally stained green with dancing on the grass–and set them carefully aside. Wedding slippers are a sign of good luck if they’ve been well danced in.

And then we started a different dance. We did leave the window open, and I helped Runaan with some very memorable quotes for anyone listening in. Couldn’t let the village wonder if we’d made it home safely together, could I?

Because we were home. Together. And we always will be. Runaan is my home and my heart. I knew that, way before my wedding day. But I loved, so much, sharing the moment when I changed my life to let Runaan into it, fully and completely. Moonshadow weddings are an absolute delight, and mine is one of my favorite memories of all.

[echodrops]

Why You Should Be Shipping Shigaraki/Ochako

No, no, hang on a second--I see that side-eye you are throwing hard enough to ruin your peripheral vision. I feel the shade you’re casting like a thundercloud rolling in. But you didn’t read wrong. I meant what I said.

I’ve never made a secret of my love for rare pairs, but for once in my damn lonely shipper’s hellscape of a life I would love it if my favorite crack ship in a fandom had more than two fics (I’m NOT JOKING) to its name.

What can I do to correct this egregious oversight before the entire summer passes with nary a whisper of the most romantic ship since Juliet wherefore art thou’d Romeo?

Well, what else? I was forged in the fires of early 2000s’ fandom, and I know that desperate times call for desperate measures meticulously researched and extremely rose-tinted

Shipping Manifestos.

Fam, I am about to blow your minds, align your chakras, open your third eyes--because Shigaraki and Ochako is the most slept on ship in the entire BNHA fandom, and if you give me ten minutes like an hour (holy shit, this is long), I can prove it.

Disclaimer: @mistystarshine is the enabler who convinced me to write this but we were both enabled by @ohmytheon’s Reconfigure (on AO3) so you know who’s really responsible.

Spoilers to Chapter 231, watch out.

First off, I know what you’re thinking. Maybe you’re still reading from pure shock. Maybe you’re doubt-reading to get your daily fix of internet skepticism. Maybe you’re waiting for me to say these two characters are meant to be because she wears pink and his hair is blue. Maybe you’re already freaking out about age gaps but like that is what future fics and AUs are actually for!!!

I’m not telling you to give up your IzuOcha or Kacchako. I’m not gonna pry ShigaDabi out of your eager little villain stan hands. But if you’ve never considered multi-shipping, now is the time my friends, because I’m totally serious heartfelt here! I’ve got VALID reasons for shipping Shigako--ten of them, in fact:

1) Midoriya is taken for granted as Uraraka’s love interest--but Shigaraki is incredibly similar to him.

There are reams of meta on the parallels between Midoriya and Shigaraki, with plenty people noting how Horikoshi specifically set the two up as foils to examine similar character development despite their drastically different circumstances. Yet for all the meta pointing out that Shigaraki and Midoriya are basically the same character through a mirror darkly, I’ve never seen anyone bear that thought out to its logical conclusion: there are traits Uraraka admires in Midoriya that are extremely apparent in Shigaraki too.

Multiple times in the manga, Uraraka expresses admiration for Deku’s resolve and refusal to give up. His determination in the face of impossible odds and his sense of dedication to his cause are powerful motivating factors in Ochako’s storyline, and Deku’s behavior--his willingness to charge straight into danger and his unflinching pursuit of his goal to be #1--have basically become the standard to which Uraraka holds herself.

Her crush is literally founded on an appreciation for Midoriya’s drive, earnestness, and constant growth as a person.

But these are all traits that Shigaraki also explicitly possesses. Shigaraki’s unwavering resolve is so strong that even though everyone around him says dream is unattainable... they follow him anyway.

Ujiko flat out tells Shigaraki he’s chasing a pipe dream, but he’s willing to come along for the ride strictly because of how committed Shigaraki is to making that dream a reality. The strength of Tomura’s conviction alone persuaded a collection of the most volatile and difficult personalities in the manga to band together and become found family the most well-known anti-establishment organization in all of Japan.

Shigaraki never, even in the face of overwhelming threat, backs down from a challenge, and he approaches each impossible task with absolutely as much effort, ferocity, and refusal to quit as Deku. He is just as dedicated, just as much of a shounen protagonist main character, and just as willing to push himself above and beyond as Deku.

The traits that motivated Uraraka to become the character she is today, many of the exact same traits that formed her crush on Midoriya, are all there in Shigaraki. In another world, the person who inspired Uraraka to go “Plus Ultra” could be Tomura himself, and if 1) no sense of self-preservation, 2) ZERO CHILL, and 3) dogged obsession are what Uraraka finds attractive, Shigaraki clearly has 'em covered. Oh no, he’s meeting all my standards.

2) Being serious though, Ochako’s role in the plot would be vastly improved by more meaningful interactions with the antagonists, even if just in battle.

I’ve written before about how badly the writing of BNHA treats Ochako, and why her constantly being out-of-focus is a hallmark of the genre’s crippling inability to handle dynamic female characters, but it bears repeating: in her current position in the story, Uraraka’s character has minimal agency. She exists to fill the role of Deku’s love interest (at worst) and an emotional crutch (at best). Again, absolutely no hate on the IzuOcha ship--it’s clearly canon endgame and “wholesome” I guess is what they’re calling it nowadays. But the way IzuOcha’s being written in canon is actually the worst possible thing that could happen to Uraraka’s individual character, because Ochako’s crush on Deku has been given virtually no bearing on the story’s main plot and allows Horikoshi to consistently reduce Uraraka’s personal accomplishments to “inspirations from Deku” (in order to, likely, fulfill young male readers’ fantasy of having a girl fixated on them).

Is Uraraka about to do something cool in the manga? Wait for her comment about being motivated by Deku.

Does Uraraka actually get to see some action and get involved in a fight? Wait for someone to bring up her feelings for Deku.

Is Deku about to have a dramatic clash with the story’s villains to advance the main plotline? Wait for Ochako to entirely vanish (at worst) or get sidelined into a three panel clip where she’ll use the same martial art move she’s been using since like chapter 10 (at best).

If I have to read “Gunhead Martial Arts” one more fucking time... Give Ochako her OWN supermoves goddammit!!

The story of the comic itself continually pushes Ochako out of any position of relevance. She’s not one of UA’s strongest fighters (despite having a quirk that, if applied like ANY of the male characters, has incredible potential), she’s not given half the emotional depth or attention even side characters like Kirishima get, and her backstory lacks the development many of the male characters’ get (I’m looking at you, Todoroki).

As a “good girl,” she isn’t allowed to get her hands dirty like Toga, she isn’t allowed to get as bloodied or ugly as any of the boys, and she can never be allowed to surpass the main male characters in coolness or plot relevance because girls can be “heroes” but they can’t be The Hero™. (I’m literally gagging, guys.)

Which is EXACTLY why a plot involving Shigaraki and Ochako--in ANY capacity, even just a flat out fight against each other!--would actually be a fan-fucking-tastic addition to BNHA.

Skip the token Toga vs. Ochako chick fight where they squabble over who loves Izuku more. Let Toga talk to Izuku as herself for once. Let Uraraka throw down with the League’s leader. At least once, Horikoshi? Just once?

Literally any form of plot that puts Shigaraki and Ochako into contact would mean moving Uraraka into a more central position within the manga’s plot, would boost her screen-time, increase the likelihood of her contributing to the story’s primary conflict, and would give her more to do and emotionally engage with than just repeating the same lines about Deku being amazing on an endless loop. There is untapped character development potential in spades here if Uraraka was given chance to genuinely interact with the other half of the story’s cast!

Give👏 Uraraka👏 something👏 meaningful👏 to do!👏

Putting the story’s foremost female character on out there on the frontlines with the manga’s actual main character antagonist would finally break her out of the mold she’s been forced into by genre stereotypes and set her on an even playing field with the male heroes at last.

A meaningful encounter with Shigaraki could be Ochako’s ticket to being treated respectfully by the story itself (and hell if giving underappreciated characters a real place in the world isn’t Tomura’s freakin’ calling card already).

3) Okay, I know the words “subverting expectations” leave a bad taste in everyone’s mouth nowadays, but there is a huge difference between “throwing inexplicable plot twists at the audience just for shock factor” and “averting stale cliches in an emotionally rewarding manner.” Sure, cliches do exist for a reason, but there are still many instances where actively avoiding a cliche plotline is a great choice. A shounen manga’s token love interest ending up with someone other than the hero--namely with a (reformed) villain--would be an interesting flip on the trite “hero gets the girl” script.

Look, we all know how it goes: Hero clashes with Bad Guy. They duke it out all over Kingdom Come. RIP like fifty square city blocks. The Hero wins, heads home triumphant, sweeps his Princess off her feet, and sails off into the hero rankings sunset. End of the same story we’ve seen a million times. Sometimes it’s done well and the audience is left satisfied. Other times, the heroine involved is reduced to the hero’s reward, less person than wish fulfillment. In either case, tying up a romantic subplot with a hero is the go-to way of resolving female characters’ storylines and, at this point, pretty much a given in manga, even when the romantic subplot is never given the development it deserves, leaving audiences bewildered at how and why the hook-up actually happened.

I’m not saying every comic should “subvert expectations” and cancel its romantic subplot between the hero and heroine, of course not. But I am saying that it would be pretty refreshing to see something else for once.

By virtue of their role, villains don’t usually “get the girl.” Even redeemed villains rarely end up in happy, healthy, well-written relationships. It’s not impossible but it is unlikely that a series’ designated female lead ever wavers in her attentions from the main hero to a new romantic target.

So it would be pretty cool if one did, if the moral of the story’s romantic subplot wasn’t just "token love interest completes painfully shoehorned romantic gestures.” A good romance with a redeemed ex-villain instead of a hero would take a lot more explanation. It would demand, by its very nature, more work on the author’s part to suspend disbelief. The characters would have to develop an entirely different rapport from the normal interactions between designated love interests, and, to a certain extent, strong character growth would be required in order for such a romance to even get started. There’s more moral complexity and conflict to a subplot like this, and a greater sensation of choice--if the heroine doesn’t have to end with the hero by the end of the story, well hey... That means she could end up with just about anyone. Whoa.

Even more so, in the specific case of Shigaraki, who has lived a life of misery and manipulation, the idea that he could come out on the other side, grow as a person, redeem himself, and eventually enter a healthy relationship with someone who isn’t going to hurt him is an idea I find deeply appealing. I think there are a lot of villain stans, myself included, who see parts of themselves in Shigaraki. If a character who has been so severely impacted by abuse can still heal and ultimately end up happy, to me, that’s a far more hopeful and heart-warming conclusion than the alternatives. I did warn you this manifesto would be rose-tinted, didn’t I?

I want storylines that prove that none of us are beyond saving. That people who make bad choices can still change. That romance isn’t a reward for playing the “right” role. That heroines have options. That there are still pleasant surprises to be found in romance plots.

4) But why Shigaraki and Ochako, in particular? It’s not like they have any remotely shared life experiences--

Oops. Friendly reminder: Ochako is the only major character in the manga besides the villains who is overtly described as, I quote, “poorer than poor.” Todoroki, Yaomomo, and Iida can all make it rain; Kaminari, Mina, and Jirou can afford stylish clothes; Kirishima can drop a stupid amount on night vision googles... Even Midoriya, whose father “works overseas,“ can afford plenty of All Might merchandise. One of the popular fandom theories for a while was that Ochako could be U.A.’s traitor specifically because of her desire to help her parents financially, and I think that most readers at this point can discern a clear divide in BNHA’s society: heroes are the “haves” and villains are the “have nots.” To be a hero in this story is to attend a prestigious school, have access to expensive support items, gear, insurance, fame and glory, etc.

Meanwhile, with the exception of All For One, to be a villain in BNHA’s story is to be marginalized, live in unfit conditions, lack access to basic safety and nutritional resources, and struggle to make ends meet. When ability to thrive in a hero-centric society is synonymous with being a good and worthwhile person, anyone who doesn’t just naturally excel in the hero-driven economy is treated as flawed at best and suspect at worst. Poor characters in the story are ignored, and, as demonstrated with people like Twice, left essentially to fend for themselves.

Uraraka’s status as lower income is mostly played for laughs. She’s still a privileged character in that she can attend U.A., receive hero items for free, has a safe place to live, etc. But it is important that the story acknowledges her family’s situation, because her financial status does set her apart from her classmates.

She is less privileged than the others. Being “the poor character” situates Uraraka in the interesting divide between those who couldn’t cope and chose to rebel against hero society instead, versus those who conformed to the hero system in an attempt to improve their situations. In different circumstances, if Uraraka’s family was just even the tiniest bit worse off, we might be seeing a very different character here, one who had to make some much harder choices to keep her family afloat.

Having been in the position of "going without,” Uraraka also has a unique understanding of the “real world” that many of her heroics classmates might lack. She understands what it is like to go hungry, to not be able to afford to keep up with the newest trends, to be constantly anxious about the future--to feel unsuccessful, overlooked, and under constant pressure to perform. As someone who wasn’t raised in the lap of luxury or even really a middle-class home, Uraraka has more insight into--and would likely have more empathy for--the plight of the downtrodden daily criminals of the BNHA world. Just based on her own life experiences, Ochako is more likely than her classmates to recognize how harsh reality can be, and understand the temptations that lead people to make terrible decisions.

This makes Ochako an especially interesting character in terms of her pro hero future. Would she be able to sympathize and reach out to struggling "villains” more effectively than others from her class, who lack her humble background? Would she be able to better see the big picture of BNHA’s society, and the way it actively creates villains from its marginalized populations? Would she be able to look at the League not just as criminals, but also as people who never stood a chance within the confines of a rigged social structure?

Uraraka’s background shifts her closer to the story’s villains than many of the other hero characters, and puts her in a unique place to both empathize and become motivated to change the flawed system that produced people like Shigaraki and the League in the first place.

5) Likewise, Uraraka’s background actually makes her more palatable to Shigaraki than other heroes. At least at the beginning of the comic, Uraraka isn’t shy about admitting that one of her reasons for becoming a hero is to help her parents financially. Ochako’s original motivation for heroism isn’t portrayed as nobly as others’ like Deku--Deku has no ulterior motives for being a hero; he just wants to save people and wouldn’t care about personally benefiting.

Instead, Ochako is presented as someone who (initially) sees heroism as a means to an end. It’s not that she doesn’t want to save people, but that she’s not doing so only for the intrinsic worth... the hefty paycheck that comes from heroism is a big draw.

Over time the manga has shown her shifting away from this (which actually makes her character less unique, unfortunately), but I’m sure it’s still a thought for her, and she’s definitely going to send paychecks to her parents in the future. At the end of the day, heroism is still going to be Uraraka’s ticket to a better lifestyle, even if she’s committed herself to it honestly by the time she leaves U.A.

But it’s this exact form of personal motivation that Shigaraki is much more likely to understand than the “goody-two-shoes” motivations of people like Deku. Multiple times in the comic Shigaraki has expressed confusion with society’s habit of clinging mindlessly to symbols, of their blind faith in the virtues of heroism, and their ability to simply overlook suffering because “surely a hero will do something about it.” Stain’s ideals about “true heroes” go straight past Shigaraki, who seems to hate heroes who are earnest (All Might, I’m talking about All Might) far more than those who are simply faking their way through for fame. 

Shigaraki understands humans who are driven by personal gain. He respects the individual desires of people he cares about. Someone in the hero industry explicitly seeking tangible benefits would likely, to Shigaraki at least, come across as more genuine than someone who claims they have no ulterior motives, and a person who is blunt about their needs and grounded in the reality of BNHA’s world would likely be much more acceptable to Tomura than someone who spews trite lines about peace and justice.

Shigaraki’s feelings for heroes have been irreparably damaged by his conditioning from All For One, but there are certainly some heroes that he would find less loathsome than others. He will probably never understand Deku’s selflessness. All Might’s saccharine symbolism actively infuriates him. But a person who became a hero to put food on the table? To provide for her parents (maybe especially because it is her parents she’s trying to provide for)? That’s at least understandable. If the manga’s future does see Shigaraki redeemed, my thought is that the only type of heroes we’ll ever see him willingly interact with would still be heroes just like Ochako, with more “down to earth” personal motivations. Uraraka, your codename is “If I had to date a hero”...

6) While we’re talking about shared life experiences, there’s another very obvious similarity between Shigaraki and Ochako: neither one of them can touch things with all five fingers.

Cute/fridge horror observation: Shigaraki is even daintier about touching things than Uraraka is; Uraraka usually lifts just her pinkies, but Shigaraki frequently uses as few fingers as possible.

Yeah, yeah, they both have to be dainty and careful with everything they hold. It’d be cute to watch them eat together. They could mutually gripe about the annoyance of video game consoles not designed for four-finger use. More than that though, neither one of them can touch other human beings without the risk of causing death.

Uraraka, as a hero, has the more privileged quirk design (she can turn her quirk off, while Shigaraki can’t) and until recently, the comic was always very careful to portray Uraraka’s quirk in a way that no one was endangered by it. But dropping Zero Gravity into the hands of a villain for a single chapter reveals the truth: Uraraka’s quirk has just as much lethal potential as Shigaraki’s.

Like Shigaraki, Uraraka has to face the reality that her touch alone could jeopardize the safety of anyone she comes into contact with, in her daily life and in her hero work. Drop some debris without looking twice? Just crushed a civilian. Release your quirk without thinking? Now the villain you floated is paste on the sidewalk. Thought that it was safe to float away the building? Oops, you crushed someone still trapped inside. Yikes. In a one-on-one battle, Uraraka is actually at a disadvantage not because her quirk is weak, but the dead opposite--in an outdoor fight, she would have to actively work not to accidentally send people off into outer space.

Having an auto-activate touch quirk means that both Shigaraki and Ochako have to be conscious of every single thing they touch all the time. Both of their quirks require constant bodily awareness, and both come with the lurking knowledge that “My touch causes problems.” Even for Ochako, who would merely be a nuisance if she accidentally floated objects indoors, it’s easy to internalize frustration and negative associations with one’s own body. Every day, Ochako has to be careful with herself in a way that few of her peers do, another factor that sets her apart.

One of the story’s overarching themes is the idea of “self-acceptance” and what it even means to “accept yourself” in a world where (almost) every human being possesses a distinguishing feature, often built into their bodies at the expense of standard human functioning. For people with limited control over their quirks, who can’t choose when the effect activates, a quirk is a constant burden and facet of their identity that entirely re-shapes how they interact with the world. Both Shigaraki and Uraraka face the practicality of having burdensome, even lethal, auto-activate quirks that require constant self-awareness. This is a similarity that, of the major characters, only Shigaraki and Ochako possess so far. (Even other major characters with touch-based quirks like Overhaul appear to be able to choose when to activate their quirks).

The “funny” way Shigaraki and Ochako hold things seems like just a small similarity until you remember the amount of practice and frustration it must have taken to internalize a four-fingered touch. Until you remember that this similarity marks them both as very careful and self-conscious characters. Until you remember that Shigaraki’s got a one-touch instakill... but so does Uraraka Ochako.

7) Okay, similarities are cool and all, but you know what they say: opposites attract. And if we’re talking character motivation, there are no cleaner opposites in the entire series. Shigaraki and Ochako are actually even better emotional foils than Shigaraki and Deku, because Ochako’s central motivation is “Make as many people smile as possible” and Shigaraki’s is, literally, “Make it so no one can ever smile again.”

I know I ragged on it earlier, but now I’m going to use it to my full advantage: as the story evolved and characters grew, Ochako’s “true” motivation to become a hero revealed itself: she feels a deep, intrinsic happiness when witnessing the happiness of others. Her desire as a hero is to spread relief, the sense of security that allows people to go about their days smiling. She literally feels happiest when everyone around her is happy.

Even more so than Deku, this casts Uraraka as Shigaraki’s diametric opposite in the story, because Shigaraki’s entire pipe dream goal also hinges on the smiles of others--and how absolutely much he hates them. Shigaraki’s goal is total world destruction because he just resents the happiness of others that fucking much.

On the surface alone it’s more fascinating than the story will probably ever live up to: Ochako, the heroine who wants to spread smiles; Shigaraki, the villain who wants to destroy them. Even if we’re just talking canon, zero romance involved, that would still be an interesting conflict to explore. The story could cover a lot of deeper ground by drawing the comparison between these two characters more directly. It would definitely validate Uraraka being involved in more major plot events, at the very least.

BUT this was supposed to be about shipping, so of course I can’t leave it there, and leaving it there would only be half the story anyway, because nobody is born hating smiles. Everything we’ve seen of Shigaraki’s past so far indicates that he was a kid with a cute dog, a warm relationship with his sister, and an interest in heroes--i.e., a decent life that probably included his own fair share of smiles. Shigaraki’s hatred and resentment are direct products of the traumatic manipulation he suffered at AFO’s hands. He despises the idea that people around him can smile and act upbeat, even when they objectively know villains are lurking all around them. He is actually sick to his stomach at the idea of people blindly putting their faith in heroes, knowing what he does: that heroes often fail, that there are many people who desperately need to be rescued and are instead overlooked. The world failed Shimura Tenko and then had the nerve to keep on smiling without him.

Other people’s smiles represent nothing but the joy, security, love, and peace that Shigaraki Tomura hasn’t experienced since the day his quirk manifested. The sight of any living thing fills Shigaraki with rage because everything bright and beautiful, everything good and calm and kind and soft and warm, is everything that Shigaraki has lost and believes he will never, ever get to experience again.

Shigaraki doesn’t really hate the pure happy smiles of others; he hates the fact that the world has taken away every single thing he ever had to smile about.

It is my belief that Horikoshi is hinting at a redemption arc for Shigaraki, especially as we see the League become closer allies. But Shigaraki can’t be completely redeemed, can’t be persuaded to give up his world-destruction plan, until he can look at the smiles of others without scorn. Until the bright, upbeat attitudes of heroes other people no longer feel like a personal attack. Until he’s happy enough that the happiness of others no longer hurts. Until the weight is lifted.

And I can’t think of any character more obviously suited to helping lift an immense weight than Uraraka, the zero gravity hero who wants nothing more than to spread smiles.

8) Speaking of lifting weights... Kacchako is a popular ship stemming in large part from Bakugou’s refusal to treat Uraraka with kid gloves. He faces her head-on as a real opponent and views her like any other hero hopeful.

As I’ve said before, this is pretty much the most respectfully the series itself has ever treated Uraraka Ochako, and it caught a lot of attention because it was one of the rare occasions that a female pro hero-in-training was really treated as an equal to the male characters. Kacchako shippers had something awesome to work with.

But... You know who else treats women as equals? (Hell, you know who treats literally everyone as equals, from those with mutant quirks to trans people to those with severe mental health issues?) You can say what you want about Shigaraki’s habit of, you know, mass murder, but in terms of viewing others equally and respecting (okay, let’s be real, it’s probably closer to just ignoring) differences, Tomura is about as open-minded as BNHA characters come. The League is an equal opportunity employer.

Unlike actual hero characters, Shigaraki has never once suggested that Toga is incapable of keeping up with any of the male members of the League, and in fact has entrusted her with many of the League’s most dangerous and crucial missions. He explicitly has faith in her ability and skill.

Toga’s right there in the fight against Gigantomachia and the QLA, as much an equal member of the League as anyone else. In terms of gender equality, the villains seem to be light-years ahead of their hero counterparts, and Shigaraki in particular doesn’t discriminate, among his allies or his opponents either. He’s not a “spare the women and children” kind of guy; every hero and villain challenger is treated with equal violence (and equal snark), whether they’re male, female, a long-time pro or a student in training.

In whatever context--canon opponent, AU ally, or a future romantic interest--Shigaraki would take Ochako just as seriously as Bakugou did. If you like Kacchako because Bakugou doesn’t dismiss Uraraka, that same dynamic would be present in Shigako too.

9) And on the topic of Shigaraki and women... It doesn’t feel accidental that every single female character who ever had love for Shigaraki has been taken away from him. A distinct part of Shigaraki’s storyline is that all positive female role models have been systematically removed from his life. He lost his grandmother, a hero he could have looked up to; he lost his mother, who he now has no memory of; he lost the older sister he clearly held dear... All For One’s control over Tomura has always been total, but this particular detail feels especially insidious: was All For One’s spite for Nana so strong that he delighted in deliberately destroying every single relationship Tenko had with women connected to Nana’s legacy? (Or is AFO perhaps just a raging misogynist? Every single one of his known associates is male and he seemed to despise and mock Nana particularly hard...)

In any case, the point I’m trying to make here is that, even ruling love interests out, Shigaraki’s storyline would be enriched by forging a meaningful connection with a female character like Ochako. Acceptance--maybe even some grudging admiration--for a female hero? A fantastic opportunity to show just how different the “villains” are from the discriminatory society that produced them. Supporting friendship while he’s on the road to recovery? A+ way to diversify interactions between the male and female cast. Send a tough girl to Tartarus to question his motives? Nice chance for tense dialogue and some good old noire-esque foe yay. Hostage situation that takes a turn for the surprisingly cordial? Fun way to explore different dynamics and humanize the villains because hey, they treated the “damsel” to dinner shortbread cookies. My god, Shigaraki could even develop some positive sense of rivalry with a woman, for example! The possibilities are endless if you’re actually willing to give female characters a shot!

Being more serious, Tomura’s life has been dramatically marked by the loss of his female family members, and--at least from what we know so far--his entire youth was spent without the presence of reliable friendships, let alone any form of “love” that wasn’t disturbingly fake. Beyond his fragmented memories, he has no models for healthy relationships, romantic or otherwise.

Letting Shigaraki develop to the point that he could form a mutually positive relationship with a female hero character would be extremely cathartic for me as a reader. I don’t mean “rewarding redemption with a last-minute happy ending romance”--I mean actually getting the opportunity to watch Tomura rediscover what it means to be genuinely loved and realize he has the capacity to give love and be happy in return...

Reaching that level of mutual support and closeness--especially with a female pro hero--would be the biggest “FUCK YOU” that Shigaraki could give to All For One, short of, you know, actually killing him.

Shigaraki Tomura has a critical (and deliberate) lack of healthy connections to women. BNHA, coincidentally, has a criminally under-utilized female lead just twiddling her thumbs over here, waiting for a meaningful plotline to be thrown her way.

Sure, putting AFO in prison is cool and all, but have you considered... crushing his pride and legacy of evil by helping the boy he tortured for years learn to love again? I’m just sayin’!

Uraraka Ochako, snatching Shigaraki right the fuck out of AFO’s hands:

10) Basically what the whole thing boils down to is this: Shigaraki Tomura needs a hero.

Don’t mistake my meaning. A lot of “girl meets bad boy” plots end up amounting to “girl becomes emotionally responsible for fixing bad boy’s issues,” and that’s not what I’m gunning for--Shigaraki has to redeem himself because redemption is only meaningful when it stems from the character’s own inner desire to change; I’m not quite rose-tinted enough to buy into the Love Redeems trope myself. I’m definitely not advocating anyone dump Shigaraki Tomura as he is now into Uraraka Ochako’s lap and expect her to turn him from a beast to a beauty. It’s not an unrelated woman’s responsibility to fix a broken man.

But! From a reader’s perspective, I think we can agree: Shigaraki’s redemption cannot be complete until he learns to believe in real heroes. He doesn’t have to like them. He doesn’t have to support hero society. But he has to be able to look at real heroes like Izuku and Ochako and admit that they are doing what’s right--that society is a better place because they are here. Shigaraki’s path to recovery can’t even begin until he’s capable of at least acknowledging that the world has things worth saving in it.

If Horikoshi moves forward with a redemption arc for Shigaraki, it will probably be Deku who Detroit Smashes the message of truly noble heroes into Shigaraki’s head. That’s his job as the resident Warrior Therapist, I suppose. But you know... to me, it might be even more meaningful if Shigaraki’s hero--if the hand that reaches out to rescue him--isn’t The Hero’s™ but just a hero’s. We all know Deku is selfless and good to the core. As All Might’s perfect successor, he really has nothing to prove. It’s everyone else who is in question. It’s the whole rest of hero society that owes Shigaraki Tomura an explanation for the suffering of people like the League’s members. It’s everyone else who needs to prove they can do better--that in the future, there will be no bloody children left abandoned in back alleyways.

Uraraka Ochako’s conviction is to save people. As a female hero who hasn’t lived a privileged life, she’s uniquely situated to think about those who are most often overlooked. In a world where violence begets violence, where only those with strength and flash excel, what a powerful message it would send for the terrifying antagonist to effectively be rescued by someone the story itself has called “a frail girl.” At the end of the day, heroics isn’t supposed to be about mountain-destroying explosions and mach punches--heroics is supposed to be about heart, about reaching out a gentle helping hand, about spreading smiles to those who need them most.

Tomura’s faith in heroes has been brutally stripped from him, and every part of his conflict is tied up intimately with his misdirected hatred: it wasn’t actually heroes who isolated and hurt him--it was villains. In order to move forward, he will have to come to that horrible realization, deal with that means for himself and his place in the world, and recognize the truth: there are goodness and good people in the world. Selfless heroes, those who wouldn’t turn their backs on a crying child, do exist. There are people, even now, who would extend a kind hand to Shigaraki Tomura and do their best to bring a real smile to his face. Because that’s what’s really going on, after all.

Shimura Tenko is still waiting to be saved.

And I know just the person to do it.

[rokutouxei]

guardian stars

ikemen vampire: temptation in the dark 

gen | isaac newton/reader | 1759

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20241049

homesick, you look up at the stars for comfort. | pining isaac if you squint. yes I took liberties on the history of astronomical knowledge so suspend your disbelief, won’t you?

anonymous requested: Could I request some IkeVamp Isaac x Reader/MC? I don’t really have anything specific in mind, just something sweet?

19th century France isn’t half bad, you try to convince yourself, sitting out in the mansion’s impossibly large back garden. You sit on a bench, looking up at the shining stars. Light pollution in France at this point in history couldn’t possibly match to the cities you’ve so gotten used to. Here, the night sky seemed… alive, vastly different from that which you knew. It was near unfamiliar: you try to take in as much as you can of its glossy blackness, its deep blue, accented by the multicolored stars and planets, and of course, the shining moon.

Then, from your left side: “What are you doing out here?”

You jolt from the sudden noise and immediately swat whatever was there, and it takes you a moment to realize that you’d just slapped Isaac Newton right across his arm. He presses one hand where you hit him rather defensively, but the contact had hardly made any noise you knew it didn’t hurt. You smile awkwardly.

“Sorry,” you say, still obviously shaken. “Didn’t notice you there.”

“You should go back in,” he says, arms crossed in front of him. He looks concerned. “It’s late and dark out. It’s dangerous here, even if we’re in the middle of the woods.”

“It’ll be fine.” You point up to the sky. “Just stargazing a little… why are you out?”

“To clear my head,” Isaac says. He hesitates, for a moment, thinking if he should invade the space, before asking, “Mind if I join you?”

You shake your head no, scooting over in the bench to make some room. But Isaac moves a couple paces past you, crouching to press his hand against the grass to check if it’s wet, before taking a seat on the ground. He doesn’t seem to mind that he looks overdressed to be sitting on the ground. He leans his weight backwards against the heels of his palms for a moment, but then he eventually relaxes into a lying-down position.

You see the stars reflected in his eyes and feel ever so lonely for a moment.

Stuck where you’ve time-slipped, for a moment you think of just about how lost you are—how lost you have been. You’ve even gotten to the point where you’d found your way into a mansion two centuries into the past, through some door in the Louvre Museum that should DEFINITELY have been marked with some sort of “DO NOT ENTER” sign or something. You feel without trajectory, and in this unfamiliar place, you feel like you don’t have both your place to return to, and your place to go to.

“Do you ever get homesick?” you ask, the words coming out of your mouth before you could stop them.

“Huh?”

He turns his head towards you, and when your eyes meet, you swallow anxiously. “You know, being in France and all,” you say softly, suddenly feeling bad about having asked at all. “Don’t you miss where you’re from?”

“Not really,” Isaac answers, turning his attention back to the stars. “It’s the same wherever I am.”

“Oh.” You try not to sound as deflated as you feel. “Well, that’s good.”

The both of you are quiet for a moment, but in a heartbeat, Isaac has picked up.

“Are you homesick?” he asks.

“A little,” you say, but that’s a lie; you’re so homesick it hurts everywhere. Pain hiding in the back of your mind, the joints where your bones meet. It seems even your body knows this isn’t where you belong. You also miss your friends, you miss your phone (!), you miss your work, you miss the plumbing (!), you miss the bustle of the places you call your own. No matter how friendly 19th century France has been to you, this was not home to you.

(Not yet.)

Isaac purses his lips for a moment before speaking. “Has astronomy changed much where you’re from?”

“Changed?” You’re no astronomer, there’s really little you actually know in detail, but “A little, I guess? There are these huge telescopes, so we can see very far away from us now. And we’ve left the planet, you know? We’ve sent these little… machines to far, far away. Humans have even gone to the moon. Left footprints and all that.”

Isaac chuckles, finding it hard to believe. “The moon.”

“Yes, the moon!”

“That’s… amazing,” he mumbles idly, turning back to the stars..

“But you know, a lot of it is thanks to you, I bet,” you tease, a smile making its way to your lips. It hurt a little to smile when you felt so lonely, but it was a start. “We learn about you in school, you know. They even call you the Father of Modern Science.”

“Okay, stop with that embarrassing stuff now,” Isaac sighs dismissively. You only chuckle. Somehow, you know that if the garden was any better lit, you’d see how red his face is. Somehow, Isaac is transparent to you.

But to him? You’ve always caught him off guard. In the few days you’ve spent in the mansion, you’ve managed to somehow surprise him at every turn. Always forward-facing, always “give it your all”, always doing this or that as if you couldn’t just sit and keep still. As if you didn’t want to. You were always so out there that Isaac had lingering thoughts about needing to keep watch over you wherever you are just in case something goes wrong.

There was a time Theodorus was carrying out some paintings and he’d joked for you to carry some for him, but you actually did, nearly falling over as you lifted one that looked double your weight. What about that time Dazai nearly coerced you into trying to enter the mansion through a window like he does? And don’t let Isaac start on the multiple times Arthur had finessed his way into teasing you—the list won’t end!

The point is, you had so much brightness in you that sometimes Isaac had to look away.

So to see you look so forlorn and lost like you were right now just shattered him. Isaac knew—that he had to do something. That’s why he’s talking to you right now. That’s why he insisted on staying even if he’d usually come out to be left alone to think—or in this case, rest from thinking. He couldn’t just leave you alone.

Isaac’s voice quivers a little. He turns his head to the side, but not enough to look back at you. “Come over here for a bit, won’t you?”

“S-Sure?” you say, getting up from the bench to lay next to him on the ground. The grass is cool from the night but not damp, and you settle next to him, careful of your clothes. You put your arms behind your head to cradle it before looking up at the vast canvas of the deep blue night sky. “Woah.” You are breathless. “It looks different from down here.”

“Right?” Isaac hums. He points upwards, directing your attention to him, then to the light. “You can’t get homesick like this, you know,” he says, nearly off-handedly.

You turn to him. “What do you mean?”

“Assuming the theories are still correct…” he says, voice trailing off into a whisper. He raises one hand to his bangs, twirling a lock of hair as he continues. “Do you want to listen a bit about astronomy?”

You shrug. “Yeah, sure.”

“When you look up at the stars, you do something similar to time traveling. The light you’re seeing isn’t the actual light it’s emitting right now. What you’re seeing is light they emitted a much longer time ago, depending on how far away the star is—because of the sheer distance it needs to travel to get to, well, your eyes,” he explains, gesturing with his hands. “Some of the light you see are from billions of years ago, maybe, from stars probably billions of years old. Older. The newest-born stars probably haven’t been around long enough for their light to reach us.”

You nod, unable to respond, your head slowly wrapping itself around the concept. What you do know for sure is that you find the lull of Isaac’s voice very relaxing.

“My point is,” Isaac says, clearing his throat, “the starlight you see here are from the same stars you see from where you are from, two hundred years into the future. The starlight they’re emitting is headed forward in time, just like you are. Moving forward, from far, far away.” He pauses to let the thought simmer. “And when you go back to your time, you can look up at the stars again and think, ‘this same light has been over France once, too.’ Doesn’t ‘home’ not feel as far like that?”

You feel small, and yet so infinitely loved by the universe. “Is this what you think when you get homesick, Isaac?”

He only shrugs.

You nestle in the solemn quiet as you let the words Isaac said sink in. He’s so kind; in his own little, peculiar, nerdy way, when he didn’t really have any duty to, he’d reached out to you to try to comfort you, to distract you from the doubts and fears that were filling your head to the brim.

Nodding your head, you smile. “You’re right. With these stars out there, home doesn’t feel that far at all. Because we’re looking up at the same sky.”

“In a way,” Isaac agrees. He watches your eyes’ dim light brighten. 

“Could I… could I treasure what you said? So that when I start to feel that way… I can keep that in my thoughts. Maybe I should just think of the starlight—and how I’ll get where I’m supposed to be eventually.” He doesn’t answer, just turns back to the night sky quietly, as you clear your head of the gloomy anxiety. You reach out the hand closer to him to find his own, and twirl your pinkies together when you find it.

“Wh—”

“It’s like suddenly you’ve given me all these guardian stars,” you say. “Thank you, Isaac. I feel a little bit less homesick now.”

You turn to look at him, into the stars in his eyes, and for the first time since you’ve gotten to the mansion you feel less alone. Like you’re suddenly home. You turn back to the open sky.

Gently, as if shy, you feel Isaac’s pinky tighten around yours.

“Guardian stars that keep watch over you wherever you are,” Isaac mumbles, ears red, lost in thought.

[broadwaybaggins]

"Language, Jedediah!" Mary exclaimed, her expression halfway between aghast and hilariously amused. First sentence fic prompt.

This is so not five sentences...and I also put your sentence in the body of the fic and not at the beginning. But I hope you like it anyway! There will be a follow-up chapter as well!

March 1868

They had been on their way to dinner when Jed had suddenly stopped short, his eyes widening. 

“Fritz?” 

His voice was suddenly far louder than Mary deemed necessary. The sound seemed to echo for a moment in the chilly air as he blinked in disbelief, as if he thought that his eyes were playing tricks on him.

Luckily, no one else on the bustling New York streets--so vastly different from Alexandria or even Boston, and yet somehow exactly the same--seemed to take any notice of Jed’s outburst. As Mary stopped in her tracks, wondering what in the world had possessed him, Jed looked sidelong at her for a moment. A childish grin that Mary knew far too well by now was playing at the corners of his mouth. “It can’t be,” he murmured, staring ahead into the crowd.

“Who can’t be, Jed? Or...what?” Mary added almost as an afterthought, looking around in confusion. She was fairly certain she’d never heard Jed say that name in her life. 

“Apologies, Baroness,” he said by way of explanation, and Mary couldn’t help but roll her eyes. He only trotted out that old nickname on very rare occasions these days, often right before he was about to do something that Mary would surely object to.

“For what?” she asked with growing trepidation.

“For this.” He released his gentle hold on Mary's arm, and raised both of his hands up to his face, cupping them around his mouth, and just as Mary realized what was about to happen (and was preparing to warn him off of it) his voice let loose, a child hollering for his friend across the schoolyard.

“That cannot be old Fritz Bhaer!”

Mary braced for embarrassment, her entire body tensing, and prayed for strength.This time, everyone on the street did hear, and Mary’s cheeks flamed as over twenty heads in their immediate vicinity turned to look at them--including, up ahead of them, the object of Jed’s attention in the first place, and the man’s companion as well.

Mary watched as the two, a man and a woman turned in tandem, and as they did she caught sight of identical curious expressions. The man was tall with thick, dark hair and a rather rumpled appearance--he wore no hat, despite social conventions and the brisk wind of a New York spring. His eyes were also dark, Mary could tell even at a distance--just as she could see the moment that confusion faded and recognition dawned.

“Jedediah!” he called delightedly. He hastened towards them, his companion following close behind. “Or Doctor Foster, I should say now, I suppose!” Mary’s eyes widened in surprise at his German accent, the cadence achingly familiar to her even though she had never met this man before in her life. 

Jed, however, quite clearly had. The two strangers had reached them now, and Mary watched as Jed and the other man shook hands with gusto, wide grins brightening both their faces. Jed’s free hand pounded him lightly twice on the back. The man’s companion hung back slightly, near the pair but not quite with them, although the look on her face betrayed her clear bemusement at this turn of events. “I can’t believe it!” Jed cried. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Jed!” Mary hissed.

“I might ask thee the same question! We are both far from home, it seems…” the younger man’s eyes sparkled with mirth and affection as he looked at Jed.

“Some of us further than others. I didn’t have to cross a damned ocean to get here, Fritz.”

“Language, Jedediah!” Mary exclaimed, her expression halfway between aghast and hilariously amused. It was the first real thing that she had said since this strange encounter began, and while she wished she could have made a better first impression, Jed hadn’t exactly given her much of a choice in the matter.

He jumped, seeming to remember that she was there. Mary was so amused and curious that she forgot to be offended. “Of course! Look at me, forgetting that introductions are in order. Mary, this is Friedrich Bhaer. I stayed with his family while I was studying in Germany. Fritz, this is Mary--” he paused for effect, clearly relishing his next words-- “my wife.”

Mary held her breath as she waited for Mr. Bhaer’s reaction. He and Jed were clearly close, or at least they had been once. Was it possible that the two had stayed in touch? How much did Mr. Bhaer know about Eliza, the divorce, all of it? How much could she bear for him to know? Mary watched his face carefully, looking for a flicker of recognition, an arch of an eyebrow in curiosity or judgment, a grimace or a look of disdain or shock…

She resisted the anxious urge to reach up and toy with the black velvet ribbon she wore around her neck. She forced herself to keep her hands at her sides, telling herself that it would be all right, whatever reaction the man had. It’s not as if she was unused to gossip, after all…

But Mr. Bhaer’s smile never faltered--in fact, he seemed even more pleased than ever by Jed’s words. “How wonderful! It is a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Foster.”

Mrs. Foster. Even after all this time, nearly five years of marriage, it was still a thrill to hear herself addressed this way...almost as much of a thrill as it was to hear Jed call her his wife. Mary finally allowed herself to relax, and she returned Mr. Bhaer’s smile. “The pleasure is mine, Mr. Bhaer,” she replied, holding out her hand. As he took it, she added in what she hoped was correct German, “Please forgive my husband for not mentioning you before now.”

Mr. Bhaer’s grin, if possible, became even wider. “Sie spricht Deutsch!” 

Mary chuckled. “Yes, but I am quite out of practice, I’m afraid, so you’ll have to forgive any errors.”

“But first,” Jed said softly, tilting his head in the direction of the fourth member of their little party. The young woman had begun to shift from foot to foot, although out of a feeling of awkwardness at being left out or impatience at her own lack of introduction, Mary could not say. She thought she saw Mr. Bhaer’s cheeks turn faintly pink with embarrassment, although it may have simply been the cold.

“Oh! Of course! Meine Manierien, wo sind sie?  Jed, Mrs. Foster, this is Miss Josephine March.”

Mary allowed herself to study the young woman more closely as she stepped forward. She was young, early twenties perhaps, but no older. She was tall as well, with intelligent, curious eyes that met Mary’s without a hint of shyness. “Pleased to meet you both,” Miss March said, offering her hand to Mary to shake first. Her grip was strong and sure, and Mary decided that she liked her immediately.

Miss March shook Jed’s hand as well, and then glanced at Mr. Bhaer. “I hate to break up such a lovely reunion. We were just on our way to get something to eat--perhaps you and Mrs. Foster would like to join us?” She grinned suddenly “Anything to get out of this brutal wind. The two of you can catch up more inside.”

“That sounds like a capital idea,” Jed agreed immediately. The young woman grinned brightly at his words, although Mary wasn’t quite sure why. “We were also on our way to dinner. I know a place that a friend recommended. Shall we?”

It was agreed, and the four of them set off, trying to catch up as best they could with the wind howling in their ears and the crowd around them. They found themselves in a cozy restaurant just as the first flakes of spring snow began to fall. Once orders had been taken, Mr. Bhaer asked them what had brought the pair of them to New York, and Mary explained that Jed was doing a lecture at the New York University College of Medicine in the morning. 

“Excellent! A lecture about what, may I inquire?”

“Our work during the war,” Jed said, sounding somehow weary and fond at the same time. “We met at a Union hospital in Alexandria.”

“You worked at a hospital?” Miss March asked, her keen eyes looking at Mary with new interest. “As a nurse?”

Mary smiled and nodded. “Yes, I was the Head Nurse, for a time. Under the guidance of Dorothea Dix.”

“That’s amazing! The nurses did such important work during the war. My father was with the Army for a time, and when he got sick, it was dreadful. My mother went to Washington to help care for him, but they both had such wonderful things to say about the nurses that were at his hospital. He wouldn’t be here without them, that’s what my father said.”

“I’m glad to hear that your father is still alive and well,” Jed told the young woman kindly. “Which reminds me, I was so sorry to hear about your sister.” His eyes turned slightly sad, trained as they were on Friedrich. Beside her, Mary thought she saw Miss March’s posture stiffen. “I didn’t hear the news until some time later, I’m afraid, but I was sorry to hear of it. She was a remarkable young woman.”

Friedrich sighed, looking down into his cup for a moment. “There is not a day that goes by that I do not miss Minna. But she left me two dear nephews, so sometimes it is like she is not so far away.”

Deciding that the conversation had become too personal, Mary decided to let the two men reminisce and catch up and turned to the youngest member of the party. Miss March had been occupying herself with playing with a loose thread on her cuff, but she looked up when she felt Mary’s gaze. “We may have created a monster,” Mary joked gently. “I fear that now that they’ve started talking, they may never stop. It’s rare to see Jed so...animated.”

“Same with the Professor,” Miss March agreed readily. “I was beginning to think he didn’t have any friends outside Mrs. Kirke’s boardinghouse.”

“Is that where the two of you met?”

Miss March nodded. “We live there, although he’s been there much longer than I have. He’s seeing to the education of his nephews, and putting some of his own studies on hold. I’ve recently taken on a job as tutor to Mrs. Kirke’s daughters. They’re quite sweet, and New York is fascinating, but I do miss home sometimes.”

“Where is home for you?”

“Concord, Massachusetts,” Miss March answered. Mary blinked in surprise, about to comment, but the young woman kept speaking. “My elder sister Meg recently got married, you see, and my youngest sister is off in Europe with our aunt, and I...I decided that it was time for me to see some of the world as well. It was the perfect time to make a change.”

“Why was that?” Mary asked, more curious than ever.

Miss March opened her mouth to speak, but closed it again as if thinking better of it. “I don’t want to bore you. We’ve only just met.”

“Miss March, believe me when I say that my husband can talk for hours with your Professor. We have all the time in the world for you to tell me your story.”

[beeblackburn]

Pretender Reads A Little Hatred, Part I, Chapter Five

If anyone would like to publicly hang me for posting more frequently after months since the first read-through, feel free! Goes without saying spoilers ahead for the entirety of The First Law works beyond the keep reading. Read at your own risk.

Chapter Title: A Little Public Hanging Point-of-View: Crown Prince Orso

As a forewarning, I just want to say this: I hate privileged royal characters. I do, I really do! They always end up as some form of ineffectual, despite being in high positions, spoiled whiners who complain about how hard their lives are, despite having vastly more than the mud-and-shit-worked peasants they rule over, and refusing to actually change things for the better. 

And, after a lifetime of reading about privileged royal twats as protagonists who complained about how hard their lives were, only to end up getting a heart for the peasantry later, but not actually rocking the boat too hard, in terms of changing their monarchies to something directly more beneficial, I’m just kind of done with them? 

That being said, Abercrombie wrote Jezal dan Luthar and I actually liked how he progressed, but at the same time, he wasn’t royalty at the start. Just a noble prick who had to take some hard blows before he could grow the hell up. So, we’ll see how this goes...

“I hate bloody hangings,” said Orso.

One of the whores tittered as if he’d cracked quite the joke. It was the falsest laugh he had ever heard, and when it came to false laughter, he was quite the connoisseur. Everyone was false in his presence, and he the worst actor of all.

“I guess you could stop it,” said Hildi. “If you wanted.”

Orso frowned up at her, perched on the wall with her legs crossed and her chin propped on one palm.

“Well… I suppose…” Strange how the idea had never occurred to him before. He pictured himself springing onto the scaffold, insisting these poor people be pardoned, ushering them back to their miserable lives to tearful thanks and rapturous applause. Then he sighed. “But… one really shouldn’t interfere with the workings of the judiciary.”

Lies, like everything that left his mouth, engineered to make him appear just a touch less detestable. He wondered who he was trying to fool. Hildi undoubtedly saw straight through it. The truth was, when it came to stopping this, as with so much else, he simply couldn’t be arsed. He took another pinch of pearl dust, his heavy snorts ringing out as the Inquisitor in charge stepped to the front of the scaffold and the crowd fell breathlessly silent.

My, my, Orso’s quite the charmer, isn’t he. Just this apathetic mess who can’t be bothered to act in any way real, even stop a hanging he doesn’t like. There’s a pitiful quality to him, but not in a way that arouses sympathy or love to me, given how much privilege and power his position has, especially with how much he knows he’s a shit and can afford to get away with it as crown prince.

That being said, what strikes me about this opening is just how painfully self-depreciating Orso’s voice is. To the noting of false laughter, to the knowledge that he knows he’s using his words to paint himself less awful to Hildi, to this feeling that she can see through how despicable he is (and he kind of is here!), one thing that contrasts him with a high screech against early Jezal and, more accurately, Crown Prince Ladisla, is that... Orso really doesn’t buy into any hype of his. He knows he’s a shit person, everyone knows it, so why bother denying it to himself?

Hmmm. I’m not entirely sure how to feel about this, self-awareness can cut both ways in terms of reader sympathy, but he’s no Ladisla so far. He’s certainly an interesting contrast to Savine, the other Union voice, and Leo, the other male voice, so far. He’s not particular fixated on public appearances, given the ease of doing drugs out in the open, and he’s not exactly a man of action either. He’s just... kind of an inactive shit stuck in his privilege.

“These three…people,” and the Inquisitor swept an arm towards the chained convicts, each held under the armpit by a hooded executioner, “are members of the outlawed group known as the Breakers, convicted of High Treason against the Crown!”

“Treason!” someone screeched, then dissolved into coughing. It was a still day, so a bad one for the vapours. Not that there were many good days for the vapours lately, what with the new chimneys sprouting up all over Adua. People at the very back must have been struggling to see the scaffold through the murk.

“They have been found guilty of setting fires and breaking machinery, of incitement to riot and sheltering fugitives from the king’s justice! Have you anything to say?”

The first prisoner, a heavyset fellow with a beard, evidently did. “We’re faithful subjects of His Majesty!” he bellowed in a hero’s voice, all manly bass and quivering passion. “All we want is an honest wage for honest work!”

Huh, so the Breakers are effectively revolutionaries? Honestly, I can’t really blame them for railing against their conditions. As we’ve seen in Savine’s chapter, they live in some truly wretched environments. And all these passages prove is that is the new age of progress that Savine’s taking advantage is here to stay, and Orso’s eyes are a necessary lens to see all the curses of it, whereas Savine would only see the Breakers and the vapours as the inevitable collateral damage of this new world where money is power.

“I’d sooner take a dishonest wage for no work at all,” grunted Tunny.

Yolk burst out laughing while swigging from his bottle and sprayed a reeking mist of spirits, which settled over the wig of a well-dressed old lady just in front.

Hey, Tunny and Yolk! Hi, you two surviving bastards! Playing to the hits, I see.

“Yes.” Tunny showed his yellow grin and Orso winced. He hated it when Tunny used him to bully people. Almost as much as he hated hangings. But somehow he could never bring himself to stop either one.

(arches an eyebrow) Now, how did Tunny manage to get in close enough to the Crown Prince ever since serving in the war against Styria? And why get close to a Crown Prince to begin with? Is Tunny not afraid of the shitting falling on him once Orso’s enemies angling to take him and his friends out?

And, by god, Tunny’s turned into more of a shit than he originally was. I mean, given his appearance in Sharp Ends, I’m not surprised, but never let it be said that Abercrombie lets up on the negative character development he’s famous for among his characters.

The side-whisker enthusiast had turned pale as a freshly laundered sheet, something Orso had not seen in some time. “Your Highness, I had no idea. Please accept my—”

“No need.” Orso waved a lazy hand, wine-stained lace cuff flapping, and took another pinch of pearl dust. “I am a damn disgrace. Notoriously so.” He gave the man a reassuring pat on the shoulder, realised he had smeared dust all over his coat and tried ineffectually to brush it off. If Orso excelled at anything, after all, it was being ineffectual. “Please don’t concern yourself over my feelings. I don’t have any.” Or so he often said. The truth was he sometimes felt he had too many. He was dragged so violently in a dozen different directions that he could not move at all.

Honestly, as much as I don’t come out of this respecting Orso, I can relate to that last sentiment. Being so dragged apart by different responsibilities and obligations that you feel paralyzed by it. You can’t move, you can’t do anything.

That being said, Orso, you’re doing drugs while watching a hanging you can, theoretically, try to stop. I’m not seeing where you’re being dragged apart here.

And there is so much apathy and self-depreciation in these passages, so much of Orso not getting angry or petty, not even for a power high considering Side-whiskers would be fine with however he reacted, which is so telling compared to the usual reactions of nobles. There’s no knee-jerk anger at being told off like Jezal or Ladisla or Vallimir or most others here. Orso’s so inactive, he can’t even summon up the typical petty retribution that nobles do. 

He’s a shit, but he’s a very different shit compared to the others, I feel.

“Majir?”

“Y’owe Majir a hundred and fifty-one marks. Said she can’t give you more credit.”

“Spizeria, then?”

“Y’owe him three hundred and six. Same story.”

“How the hell did that happen?”

Hildi gave Tunny, Yolk and the whores a significant glance. “You want me to answer that?”

Orso racked his brains to think of someone else, then gave up. If he excelled at anything, after all, it was giving up. “For pity’s sake, Hildi, everyone knows I’m good for it. I’ll be coming into a considerable legacy one of these days.” No less than the Union, and everything in it, and all its unliftable weight of care, and impossible responsibility, and crushing expectation. He grimaced and tossed her the box.

Huh! The same Majir in Savine’s chapter? A neat note, but dang, Orso, who haven’t you indebted yourself to at this point? So much privilege of never needing to mind one’s personal purse. Though, you’d think Jezal would’ve covered him or Terez, at least, told him to knock it off the frivolous spending, up to a point.

And there’s that awareness again, knowing how much weight he’s going to be under once he stops being Crown Prince and starts being King of the Union, and, to put a pause on haranguing Orso for his inactivity and open apathy, the Circle of the World might be the only series where there’s greater context to more justify a lack of feeling any agency among the royalty, given how Bayaz’s set it up and how much Jezal is ultimately a prisoner to his status, though Orso doesn’t know how bad it’ll get.

Kind of hard to do anything when stepping out of line means an “accident.”

“You owe me nine marks,” she muttered.

“Shoo!” Orso tried to wave her away, got his little finger painfully tangled in his cuff and had to rip it free. “Just get it done!”

She gave a long-suffering sigh, jammed that ancient soldier’s cap down over her blonde curls and stepped off into the crowd.

“She’s a funny little thing, your errand girl,” warbled one of the whores, dragging too heavily on his arm.

“She’s my valet,” said Orso, frowning, “and she’s a fucking treasure.”

Awww, is it wrong this made me like Orso more? If he drags himself, he elevates others as well. And he’s right, Hildi’s a damn treasure and it’s still kind of amazing a prince allows his inner circle to be contrary to him, mouthing off to him and using him in their petty power plays like with Tunny and Side-whiskers earlier. 

It’s like he has so little regard for himself, that there’s room for him to think so much better of others.

On the scaffold, meanwhile, the bearded man was bellowing out the Breakers’ manifesto with ever more emotion. The noise from the crowd was growing but, much to the upset of the Inquisitor, he was starting to strike a chord. Calls of support were breaking through the mockery.

“No more machines!” the bearded man roared, veins bulging in his thick neck. “No more seizure of common land!”

He seemed a useful fellow. More useful than Orso, certainly. “What a bloody waste,” he muttered.

This is reminding me of when Last Argument of Kings had the Tanner plotline and how much the peasantry rebelled then. Except thematically... this feels different. That rebellion was an orchestrated farce at the head of it in the end, but this feels more... real.

Orso, especially stuck in his self-depreciation, can see the validity of the people involved with the movement, and see the waste of killing a good man. Yet, he’ll still let him die because his station is built upon on culling the dissidents of royalty, hence why the Inquisition are doing this.

He might believe it a waste, hell, I think he genuinely does, but ultimately, without acting, all those thoughts? Empty gestures and sighs, full of pity, Orso.

It was a riddle. This man, born with no advantages, believed in something so much he was willing to die for it. Orso, born with everything, could scarcely make himself get out of bed of a morning. Or, indeed, an afternoon.

“Bed is warm, though,” he murmured.

Well, that’s just the thing. The privileged, with their inherited wealth, don’t have to work to preserve it and their privileges. They’ve known no other life beyond it and have grown accustomed to their degree of luxury. Their wealth and privilege allows them to live as comfortably as possible, and the human lives exploited and squeezed out of their use? They’re less a consideration to the immediate pleasures of the privileges of those in high places. 

Comfort and pleasure can blind you, because too much of them can close you off to the pain and anguish of others, if your luxurious life is dependent on the suffering of others. It’s only when you have skin in the game that you learn to fight for something until the bitter end, because you don’t have any luxury to fall back on when you’re knee-deep in the shit. A world’s difference between that Breaker and Orso, between those with losing and winning hands.

Rather than needing strong men or horses to haul up the condemned, some enterprising fellow had devised a system whereby prisoners could be dropped through the scaffold floor at a touch upon a lever. There was an invention to make everything more efficient these days, after all. Why would killing people be an exception?

(snorts) Done in a new way, indeed.

“Damn it,” muttered Orso, working a finger into his collar. There was nothing even faintly satisfying in this. Even if these people really were enemies of the state, they hardly looked like very dangerous ones.

In some ways, this is a shockingly naive thought in the Circle of the World. Plenty of otherwise harmless-looking or quiet people can turn out your most dangerous and ruthless enemies in this world, as Logen would point out. But, at the same time... this is still an acknowledgment of all this being wrong. Orso’s problem isn’t that he doesn’t know right or wrong, it’s that he can’t be bothered to do anything about it, and that damns him, given he, out of everyone there, could stop it. Could, at least, try! And doesn’t!

The next in line to receive the king’s justice was a girl who might not yet have been sixteen. Her eyes, wide in bruised sockets, flickered from the open trapdoor to the Inquisitor as he stepped towards her. “Have you anything to say?”

She appeared hardly to comprehend. Orso found himself wishing the vapours were thicker, and that he could not see her face at all.

“Please,” said the man beside her. There were tears streaking his dirty cheeks. “Take me but, please—”

Oof. I can’t say I’m surprised, considering West’s chapter at the Angland camp noting the Inquisition takes children in, but seeing it still punches me in the heart. And that man, just begging for leniency to that girl, for himself...

And Orso, wishing he didn’t have to see her face, in order not to feel the guilt burning in him. At staying his hand. Because looking at someone’s eyes beforehand makes it all the harder to say they deserved to die.

Orso gritted his as he looked to the scaffold. Hildi had been right, he could stop this. If not him, who? If not now, when?

There was some problem with the girl’s noose, the Inquisitor hissing furiously at one of the executioners as he dragged his hood up over his sweaty face to peer at the knots.

Orso was just about to step forward. Was just about to roar, Stop!

On a purely realistic note, I kind of wonder what would have happened, had Orso acted? Glokta’s not there, nor is Bayaz, and it can be agreed-upon the public masses that the royalty of the Union still holds the power over there. So, ultimately, it depends on whether Orso would buckle to the Inquisitors there, them telling him that the Breakers are traitors and deserve no quarter with him conceding in the end, or if he could argue that children have done no crime worth execution? In truth, the Inquisition are the real power, given Arch Lector Glokta, but at the same time, publicly undercutting the royalty might be more trouble than Orso undercutting the Inquisition, who nominally serve under him.

In short, it’s entirely possible he could’ve, at least, saved the girl, just like Jezal protected Brock’s children against his Closed Council once:

“There will be no hangings.” The king was frowning levelly at Bayaz.

Hoff blinked. “But your Majesty, you cannot allow—”

“There has been enough bloodshed. Far more than enough. Release Lord Brock’s children.”

Last Argument of Kings, Patriotic Duties

(Sobs at father/son connections)

In all honesty, if we’re talking echoes of the first trilogy, there’s a lot of later-Jezal in Orso, the self-depreciating man who was more painfully aware of how out-of-depth he was as king, except the self-depreciation is far more pointed in Orso’s case, Orso’s voice is choked full of it, so much so that it’s a miasma of disregard to himself. Not undeserved, considering how little he’s doing now, but it’s definitely a notable quality. On a structural level, I can’t help, but read a certain Crown Prince Ladisla in Orso, except, instead of just a punchline, there’s an actual character in this useless prince, and enough self-aware and want to do the right thing...

... Yet, Orso doesn’t.

But circumstances always conspired to stop him doing the right thing. He heard a soft, high voice in his ear. “Your Highness.”

Orso turned to see the broad, flat and decidedly unwelcome face of Bremer dan Gorst at his shoulder.

HEY, GORST THE WORST! How’re ya doing? :D Still the King's First Guard? Of course you are! Also still being a depressed, self-pitying murderous incel? That too, most like! 

Gods, I wonder if he’s still fixated on Finree, after all these years...

“The queen has sent for you,” piped Gorst.

Orso blew out through his pursed lips to make a long farting sound. “Hasn’t she better things to do?”

Oh, SNAP! We’re getting Terez this early? My, my, I’m certainly interested in seeing her again, after how Abercrombie dropped the ball with her the first trilogy.

Orso turned away without much reluctance. He hated bloody hangings, but the girls had wanted to go and he hated disappointing people, too. As a result of which, it seemed, he disappointed everyone. At his back, there was that strange sound between gasp and cheer as the next trapdoor dropped open.

Disappointing me as well. Damn it, Orso. Nothing was stopping you from stopping the girl’s execution, at least, and then going to your mother right after. But no, you took the easy excuse of needing to be with your mother, instead of the hard choice of standing for what’s right.

Another thing Abercrombie relies on? The anti-climax, the thwarting of expectations on a chapter and series scale, I knew it as one of his writing tools going in, and I still fell for it, hoping Orso would do something useful, anything useful and stop the excessive execution of a child. I suppose I have no one to blame but myself, given even Orso’s expressed what a useless shit he is, but...

Oh, Orso, Orso, Orso. What am I to do with you?

Orso tossed his hat onto the bald head of a bust of Bayaz, congratulating himself that it came to rest on the legendary wizard at a pleasingly rakish angle.

Huh, I do wonder how a meeting between Orso and Bayaz would go down. Bayaz’s inevitable to come visit the Union at some point in this trilogy, especially if Jezal croaks in the middle of it (the Breakers would serve as an abject reason for murdering the king, given the allusions to the French Revolution). Orso hardly seem to be made of sterner stuff, even more than his father, who wasn’t exactly a lion deep down... but at the same time, that’s expected, isn’t it? 

Who are you, Orso, beyond a self-aware fool I can’t respect, and pity without sympathy?

The tapping of his boot heels echoed in the vast spaces of the salon as he crossed a sea of gleaming tiles to the tiny island of furniture in its centre. The High Queen of the Union sat fearsomely erect there, dripping with diamonds, growing out of the chaise like a spectacular orchid from a gilded pot. It hardly needed to be said that he’d known her his whole life, but the sheer regality of the woman still took him aback every time.

You know, I was expecting this, but wow. We’re really getting Terez, huh! Looking the picture-perfect example of royalty.

Also, I got to love that fearsomely. Lovely detail to capture how Orso feels about his mother.

“Mother,” he said, in Styrian. Using the tongue of the country they actually ruled only aggravated her, and he knew from long experience that aggravating Queen Terez was never, ever worth it. “I was just on my way to visit when Gorst found me.”

“You must take me for a rare kind of fool,” she said, angling her face towards him.

“No, no.” He bent to brush one heavily powdered cheek with his lips. “Just the usual kind.”

“Really, Orso, your accent has become appalling.”

“Well, now that Styria is almost entirely controlled by our enemies, I get so little chance to practice.”

As an immigrant child, someone born away from my current home, I can’t entirely relate to this... but I know my parents suffered a great deal of cultural diaspora when they came to where we currently live. And, when my brother and I could, we would speak Chinese because it was part of our parents’ culture. I’m not particularly good at it, but I know enough to make my parents’ lives more convenient instead of speaking a language they’re less comfortable with. 

I say all this to say? I completely get where Terez’s coming from. She was effectively sold off from her father to a foreign country to accumulate more of his power and she’s adrift from her original culture and home and just wants to keep as much as possible. And it’s honestly such a neat detail from a character who was given the short shrift in the first trilogy, writing-wise. I can already tell there’s a greater sense of detail attended to her this time.

The royal bosom, constrained by corsetry that was a feat of engineering to rival any wonder of the new age, inflated majestically as the queen sighed. “People expect a certain amount of indolence in a Crown Prince. It was quite winning when you were seventeen. At twenty-two, it began to become tiresome. At twenty-seven, it looks positively desperate.”

(looks at Crown Prince Ladisla) Different sort of man, yet, the same disappointment. I come back to the Prince Ladisla comparison because the way they’re written feels so different, despite occupying a similar useless royal twat archetype. Prince Ladisla completely bought into himself being the best thing since sliced bread, full of illusions of himself as a great general in his head. Crown Prince Orso, though? If anything, he suffers from the opposite problem: so thoroughly disillusioned of himself that he feels he can’t do anything. They’re both privileged, useless, royal twat archetypes, but how their uselessness is expressed is the difference between day and night.

“You have no idea, Mother.” Orso dropped into a chair so savagely uncomfortable it was like being punched in the arse. “I have long been thoroughly ashamed of myself.”

“You could try doing something to be proud of. Have you considered that?”

“I’ve spent whole days considering it.” He frowned discerningly through the wine as he held it up to the light from the giant windows. “But doing it really feels like such a lot of effort.”

This feels similar to the Finree/Leo dynamic, except where that mother was exasperated at her son’s inability to do anything but act, Terez takes issue with how much Orso will do anything but act. A true man of inaction against Leo’s man of action.

Also, “long been thoroughly ashamed”? How long as this been happening for Orso, then? Terez did mention that he was like this since seventeen, but... why? I mean, as Terez says, you could try doing something. Like, um, stopping an execution? Orso? Hello?

“Frankly, your father could use your support. He is a weak man, Orso.”

“So you never tire of telling him.”

“And these are difficult times. The last war did… not end well.”

“It ended pretty well if you’re King Jappo of Styria.”

His mother pronounced each word with icy precision. “Which you… are…not.”

“Sadly, for all concerned.”

“You are King Jappo’s mortal enemy and the rightful heir to all he and the thrice-damned Snake of Talins have stolen, and it is high time you took your position seriously! We have enemies everywhere. Inside our borders, too.”

Well. That answers one question about Jezal and Terez. Though, honestly, I expected as much, given those grisly circumstances. (grimaces)

Also, snrrrk. Terez, Orso barely has the energy to do the right thing for a girl, what makes you think he has the energy to take up a mortal enemy he never asked for?

Also, calling it now: Orso and Jappo are totally going to meet eventually in this trilogy and get along because they can share in their mutual burdens of dominating mothers.

“Then I trust you come to me in a receptive mood.” Orso’s mother gave two sharp claps and Lord Chamberlain Hoff strutted in. With waistcoat bulging around his belly and legs stick-like in tight breeches, he looked like nothing so much as a prize rooster jealously patrolling the farmyard.

“Your Majesty.” He bowed so low to the queen, he virtually buffed the tiles with his nose. “Your Highness.” He bowed just as low to Orso but in a manner that somehow expressed boundless contempt. Or perhaps Orso only saw his own contempt for himself reflected in that obsequious smile. “I have positively scoured the entire Circle of the World for the most eligible candidates. Dare one suggest that the future High Queen of the Union waits among them?”

HEY, Hoff! You piece of utter shit! How’ve you been?

(stares before wincing) Well, that feels familiar... though, I imagine there’s just some genuine contempt, considering that you’re not exactly the model of princely behavior.

Well, not good princely behavior.

“Oh, good grief.” Orso let his head drop back, staring up towards the beautifully painted ceiling of the peoples of the world kneeling before a golden sun. “The parade again?”

“Ensuring the succession is not a joke,” pronounced his mother.

“Not a funny one, anyway.”

“Don’t be facetious, Orso. Your sisters both did their dynastic duty. Do you suppose Cathil wanted to move to Starikland?”

“She’s an inspiration.”

“Do you think Carlot wanted to marry the Chancellor of Sipani?”

Actually, she had been delighted by the idea, but Orso’s mother loved to imagine everyone sacrificing all on the altar of duty, the way she was always telling them she had. “Of course not, Mother.”

Cathil? Carlot? What the... who named them? Orso makes me think Terez got to name the sons (oh geez, I just realized Crown Prince Orso was still a child when Duke Orso got killed, what a bad omen) and Cathil and Carlot... did Jezal name them? Where did he get those names? Now I’m wondering Jezal asking Glokta for advice on names, and Glokta asking Pike for another name for the daughter after the first one.

Either that or Cathil and Carlot are common Union names, maybe, but just imagine the awkwardness of that naming discussion between Jezal and Glokta.

Also, STARIKLAND? Where Conthus and Carlot are? Oh dear...

What strikes me about this is the idea that Orso and Carlot were close enough that he knew that she was delighted at the arrangement between her and the Chancellor of Sipani. It’s just a nugget, but it helps make Orso a little more palatable.

Also, as much as I really dislike the guilt-tripping from Terez here... there’s a sad reality that she was sacrificed for her father’s power. Whether he knew she was a lesbian or not is immaterial, he could’ve arranged her a match she actually liked and straight-up didn’t care enough to, only thinking that she would’ve whined, had he offered Euz, instead of simply a king. 

“Lady Sithrin dan Harnveld,” announced the lord chamberlain.

Orso sank lower into his chair. “Do I really want a wife who measures the distance from her chin to her tits in miles?”

“Artistic licence, Your Highness,” explained Hoff.

“Call it art, you can get away with anything.”

HA! I have a few artistic friends, and have seen enough artists justify wonky perspective or anatomy, that this is endlessly amusing to me.

Honestly, Orso’s got a few good zingers here. That’s another good part about this chapter here: he’s funny in a way Rikke and Leo, or even Savine, aren’t, despite the darkness of the initial half. A lot of his quips undercut a good chunk of the darkness there. Not enough that the reality doesn’t sink in, but enough that it doesn’t choke us with the misery of child execution.

“The Countess Istarine of Affoia is a proven politician, and would bring us valuable allies in Styria.”

“From the looks of her, she’s more likely to bring me a dose of the cock-rot.”

“I had imagined you would be immune from constant exposure,” observed the queen, waving the portrait away with an exquisite flourish of her fingers.

Snrrrrk. Dang, even Terez’s got some good zingers here. This back-and-forth is delightfully fun.

And so it went, as Orso marked the turning of morning into afternoon by the steadily decreasing level of wine in the decanter, and dismissed the flower of womanhood, one by one.

“How could I abide a wife taller than me?”

“She’s a worse drunk than I am.”

“At least we know she’s fertile, she’s borne two bastards that I know about.”

“Is that a nose on her face or a prick?”

He almost wished he was back at the hanging. That, he could theoretically have stopped. Over his mother, he was utterly powerless. His only chance was to wait her out. There were a finite number of women in the Circle of the World, after all.

Yeaaaaaaaah, Orso might be a shit person, but dang, this part of him is oodles of fun, a delightful wry awareness. Though, dang, some of these are pretty damn petty complaints, all things considering.

“Finished?” asked Orso. “No portrait of Savine dan Glokta lurking in the hallway?”

(feels a chill in his spine) Oh god, no, Orso.

No, just no. Please don’t. I’m serious. Don’t fuck your half-sister!

On a less horrified note, is that why he gave those petty complaints and denials to those women? Because he has his heart set on Savine? Which, I mean, all the power to you, Orso, but it’s Savine. Putting aside the incest angle that you don’t know about, it’s Savine.

Even at this distance, he felt the chill of the queen’s displeasure. “For pity’s sake, her mother is a low-born boor, and a drunk to boot.”

“But an absolute scream at parties, and whatever you say for Lady Ardee, Arch Lector Glokta has the people’s respect. Or at any rate their abject terror.”

“A crippled worm,” spat the queen. “A torturer!”

“But our torturer, eh, Mother? Our torturer. And I understand his daughter has made herself quite spectacularly rich.”

I 100% do not blame Terez for being so visceral against Glokta. What he did to her the first trilogy is some abjectly ghastly shit. I will never hold that against her. Though, you really have to be a classist shit to Ardee, Terez?

That being said, whatever happened to Shalere? She’s not attending to Terez and she was particularly joined at the hip with Terez back in Last Argument of Kings, so... was she killed? I noticed Orso didn’t mention a brother, or did Glokta take mercy on Terez and Shalere after the former sired Orso, Cathil, and Carlot, and Terez told her lover to get out of dodge to protect her? That’s... just even more sad and lonely for Terez.

Also, huh, Ardee goes out to parties and living the high life? Good for her, I guess she doesn’t just stay home all the time, like Savine’s chapter implies. At least that’s some levity from the misery of loneliness.

“Money made through trade, and dealings, and investments.” The queen spat the words as though they were criminal enterprises. For all Orso knew, Savine’s dealings were criminal enterprises. He wouldn’t at all have put it past her.

“Oh, come now, money shamefully made from trade fills the same holes in the treasury as the kind nobly wrung from the misery of the peasantry.”

“She is too old! You are too old, and she is even older than you are.”

“But she has impeccable manners and is still quite the celebrated beauty.” He waved a loose hand towards the doorway. “She’d make a prettier portrait than any of those piglets, and the painter wouldn’t even have to lie. Queen Savine sounds rather well.” He gave a chuckle. “It even rhymes.”

I’ve said plenty about Orso’s inactivity and his shittiness for that, but he’s certainly got a brain to him, and enough understanding and no class illusions to realize that money’s money, no matter where it comes from. 

Honestly, it’s a little refreshing, how much Orso isn’t the usual privileged royal twat, characterization-wise.

Also, huh! Good to know how to pronounce Savine’s name! Now, I sort of wish I knew how to pronounce your name, Orso, ya fop.

“Promise me you will have nothing to do with that ambitious worm of a woman.”

“With Savine dan Glokta?” Orso sat back with a bemused expression. “Her mother’s a commoner, her father’s a torturer and she made her money from business.” He shook the last drops from the decanter into his glass. “Quite apart from which, really, she’s far too bloody old.”

“Oh,” he gasped. “Oh! Oh fuck!”

He arched his back, clutched desperately at the edge of the desk, kicked a pot of pens onto the floor, smacked his head against the wall and sent a little shower of plaster across his shoulders. He tried desperately to squirm away, but she had him by the balls. Quite literally.

He crushed his face up, nearly swallowed his tongue, coughed and hissed one more desperate, “Fuck!” through gritted teeth, then sagged back with a whimper, kicked and sagged again, legs shuddering weakly with aching after-spasms.

“Fuck,” he breathed.

(bursts into laughter) HAHAHAHAHAHAHA HOLY SHIT! (continues howling in laughter) Oh my god, Orso!!! (descends into a strangled sort of laughter now) Wow, Orso, just wow... hahahahaha (putters in tiny, almost choked snickers) ... hahahaha...

... Shit, this is kind of bad, isn’t it. Guys, what the fuck.

Orso watched his seed float around in the wine. “That… is somewhat disgusting.”

“Please.” Savine rinsed her mouth out from the other glass. “You only have to look at it.”

“Such cavalier disrespect. One day, madam, I shall be your king!”

“And your queen will no doubt spit your come into a golden box to be shared out on holidays for the public good. My congratulations to you both, Your Highness.”

He gave vent to a silly giggle. “Why does someone as altogether perfect as you waste her energy on a dolt like me?”

Snrrrk, gods, this chapter really be a ton of fun, given how much Orso’s matching up against people his fencing level. Brings out the best in everyone, dialogue-wise.

And it doesn’t pass my notice that when Orso says the usual entitled and typical “I shall be your king” remark, just like Ladisla towards Cathil in Before They Are Hanged, Orso is clearly saying it in jest and lets the retorting quip pass with a giggle. There’s so much of Orso that feels like an intentional course-correction of that particular fantasy archetype, a forceful zag where Ladisla zigged.

She pushed out her lips discerningly, as though considering the mystery, and for a strange, stupid moment he almost asked her. The words tickled at his lips. There was no one better suited to him. She had all the qualities he wished he had. So sharp. So disciplined. So decisive. Besides, it would have been worth it just for the look on his mother’s face. He almost asked her.

But circumstances always conspired to stop him doing the right thing.

“I can only think of one reason,” she said, hitching her skirts up and wriggling onto the desk beside him.

Oh, Orso. You’re a bit of a coward and even more of a fool than I thought if you don’t see the reality that she’s only after you for your impending kingship. The writing’s on the wall here, and you’re refusing to see it because you think Savine’s just the best (I suppose not incorrect in most aspect aside from morality).

“Get to it, then.”

“You really are in no mood for romance today, are you?”

She slid her fingers into his hair, then twisted his head somewhat painfully down between her legs. “My time is valuable.”

“The naked gall.” Orso gave a sigh as he hooked her leg over his shoulder, sliding his hand down the bare skin, hearing her gasp, feeling her shudder. He kissed gently at her shin, at her knee, at her thigh. “Is there no end to the demands of one’s subjects?”

This ending and this entire sex scene really does illuminate a lot of things, like the actual Savine/Orso dynamic (sub male and dom woman), how gentle and passive-compared-to-Savine Orso is as a lover, how clever he can be with words during intimacy, and... how much Orso feels so worthless, he feels he need the best to complete him, no matter how much she might be using him for her own gains. I shake my head at this, not even taking into account the incest quality, but... there’s a sadder register to it.

As a chapter, this does set up quite a few details, like the ills of the new age, and the Breakers that’ll resist this to the point of death, the Savine/Orso affair, and Orso’s (really) apathetic and self-depreciating character. Orso’s asides manage to undercut quite a bit of the darkness of the chapter’s first half, where Orso’s inaction is condemned by even himself, and the second half is where it crackles with dialogue and fencing between more equal opponents, unlike Savine’s punching down against random putzes. It’s not quite as self-contained as Where the Fight’s Hottest, but it’s more fun than all the prior chapters so far.

As a character... honestly, Orso fascinates me in a way only Rikke also does for me. I won’t exactly say he’s more interesting than Savine at this point, but he makes for an interesting contrast to Leo as a man of inaction. Self-aware, yet useless, Orso’s kind of a huge mess and a privileged shit in a way that I should hate, and, yeah, I don’t particularly think it says great things that he still let the executions happen (at the very least, he could’ve tried to save the girl!), but... he’s a shit in a way that’s so different from most other privileged royal twats. A man who knows himself for the useless prince and just internalizes it as deep as the pearl dust he snorts. In some ways, the self-awareness damns him, because he knows he’s useless and doesn’t try for better or not being useless, but, at the same time, he’s not unintelligent, has no illusions about himself, and is certainly a sort of fun character, if blatantly aware of how trashy he is. 

I kind of wonder where Abercrombie’s going to take Orso, because he’s really fascinating as a character construct, a fantasy archetype given this modernized wry self-awareness, the privileged royal twat who has no illusions of his station and what a shit he is.

PART I

Chapter One: Blessings and Curses Chapter Two: Where the Fight’s Hottest Chapter Three: Guilt Is a Luxury Chapter Four: Keeping Score Chapter Five:  A Little Public Hanging Chapter Six: The Breakers Chapter Seven: The Answer to Your Tears Chapter Eight: Young Heroes Chapter Nine: The Moment