#of course Mia rejected him

[dustbon]

As you can see, the roomies won't be friends in this universe.

[glitter-stained]

A fun, happy dc story for a change

Look I can be very critical of Winick's writing because I'm so ambivalent about it but damn if it isn't, on a meta level, a really satisfying spite story.

At the core of this story, there is Jim Starlin. Now Starlin's writing has many flaws, not least of all the blatant racism and sexism. And if there's one thing Jim hates, it's Robin. He wants to kill that little boy so bad, oh how he hates that bright coloured child in tights that's just holding Batman back from reaching his true potential as an absolute badass... And hey, good news! Dc, in trying to bring a second Robin after the first got a new identity, has dropped the ball, and the new boy is unpopular amongst the fans who miss the previous iteration! This is his opportunity to kill Robin, definitely!

But how? People may not have voted him dead yet, but Jim is already planning, setting up plots and trying his damndest to get him killed. And the thing about Jim- the thing that makes him a good writer, you see, the thing that separates him from those losers who fail to see Batman's true potential, is that his writing is gritty. He's not afraid to write a true dark knight facing the grimdark horrors of a town laden with crime, to shy away from the real dark, gritty topic that are mature and dark like rape. And uh, sexual violence against women. And uh, serial raping and killing women. (I'm kidding, of course, I didn't forget the native american cult leader who bathes in blood to prolongate his life. Or about the kgb agent Batman straight-up kills after he tries to kill Reagan. Or about the suicides, god I haven't forgotten about that. Don't worry.) But anyway, sexual abuse in general is a big theme for Jim. It shows how serious and dark and gritty he can be. So he has an idea: why not make Robin a child sexual abuse victim and give him AIDS? That way that's a justification to write Robin unlikeable (by making him emotional when exposed to situations of sexual abuse, unable to restrain his anger when defending a prostitute...) and at the same time it's the perfect way to kill Robin! DC has been considering giving a character AIDS, it's perfect! It will show everyone how dark and gritty Jim's writing is, he can make Robin even more unlikeable on top of how people are upset about the transition between Robins, and then he can finally kill Robin! It's perfect! Jim is a genius!!!

Now, of course, we know that plan failed: first because dc rejected Starlin's idea for Jason to die of AIDS, and second because as soon as Jason (as a character, which is what DC apparently had a problem with) died, they fired Starlin as a Batman writer and introduced a new Robin, making Starlin's vehement campaign against a fictional fifteen years old completely vain.

So that's it, right? Crisis avoided, we almost had some even worst writing that what already was, everyone sigh in relief and go home?

Enter Judd Winick stage left.

Now, remember how DC wanted to give a character AIDS? In 2003, Green Arrow #43 reveals that Mia Dearden, Oliver Queen's ward and a csa survivor of underage prostitution, is HIV positive, and in #45, she takes on the mantle of the second Speedy, becoming, according to Wikipedia, the most prominent HIV-positive superhero to star in an ongoing comic book. (And also one of my favourite comics characters, but that's unrelated.) An important thing about Winick, who wrote those issues, is that he is personally invested in education about AIDS, continuing his friend Pedro Zamora's educational work after his death of AIDS-related progressive multifocal leukoencephalopathy. (He also wrote a graphic novel about it, called Pedro and Me: Friendship, Loss and What I've Learned). So kudos! We finally got someone who has done research and actually holds respect for HIV+ people writing HIV+ characters. And Mia is so cool, man- but not only is she a really interesting character, she is, first and foremost, a survivor. That's how she characterizes herself, sees what happened to her: she did what she had to do to survive, and now she's a fucking superhero and she's here to help others and you know what she's not gonna do? Die "of AIDS."

Yeah, I haven't forgotten Starlin's terrible writing. And, if Winick's writing is any identification, it seems like he hasn't either. The idea of making the second Speedy a parallel with the second Robin isn't groundbreaking, but it's cool that it's there (and also, incidentally, a reminder that parallels are interesting and fun and backstories are not a finite resource characters can run out of or steal from eachother.) Anyway, this includes Winick altering Mia's backstory and making her a street kid to make it more similar to Jason's, as well as Mia's on-screen murder offering a nice parallel to Jason's ambiguous murder in Starlin's Diplomat Son (a parallel I can't help but regard with vindicative snark, because that's how you handle a teenager who has just caused, directly or not, a man's death out of hopelessness in a situation that felt impossible. A little snark of See? Now this is how it's done. Yeah, Starlin's Bruce isn't winning any parenting against Winick's Ollie, that's for sure.) So there it is! Our fun spite story, Winick taking on Starlin's terrible ideas, a teen vigilante and survivor taking on a hero identity to mirror a teen vigilant's loss and death, a good old fashioned schooling. Cool? Cool!

And then, in 2005, Winick buries Starlin's last remaining impact on DC by bringing back Jason Todd, in a move so audacious in the back-then landscape it would be kinda akin to bringing Ben Parker back to life in Spiderman's life as a villain (please don't tell me this happens in the comics I don't read Marvel and if someone wrote that I would honestly prefer not to know). Now, of course, the impact of Jason's death on the narrative can't and shouldn't be undone by that move, but that's not important, because that's not what Starlin wanted when killing Jason - he wanted to kill Jason/Robin, not give everyone grief-induced hallucinations where Jason/Robin had an incredibly salient place in the narrative, so he didn't get what he wanted anyway.

Personally, my view on Winick's writing of Jason is contrasted (and the fact that there are some elements of Starlin's characterization of Jason that I prefer to Winick's deeply amazes me, incredibly ironic situation. Which only serves to point that even Starlin' goal of making us hate his version of robin failed drastically, as me and my jaybin fan mutuals can attest. Sucks to suck!). But as much as some of the decisions frustrate me, do you understand how much of a power move it is to take this child, this victim who has been victim-blamed for years, and bring him back to life with a vengeance and a demand that his life mattered, that his death was a bad thing that shouldn't be tolerated? Do you know how good that story feels, especially to victims when reading it and see that indignation validated, that rebellion against the status quo and victim-blaming, how good it feels to see a "bad victim" that refuses to stay down ? And in the context of Starlin's intent to write Jason a CSA victim, Winick writing Mia, the HIV+ plot for them both- do you understand the genuine and violent glee I feel, that it's Winick that wrote Jason coming back to life and hunting down the narrative with a machine gun?

So yeah. This is the context in which I talk about acknowledging the csa subtext in Green Arrow: Seeing Red, but this post isn't about lecturing you to accept it as canon or imply that you're bad for not sharing that interpretation. It's about spite -towards Jim Starlin specifically. And it's about that interpretation, but the context in which it was written in general, is not just a victory against Starlin, that guy lost long ago, but the narrative equivalent of that Green Arrow meme about taking a funny selfie over a gravestone. In Seeing Red (specifically in the line that's discussed when questioning the csa headcanon), Jason tells Mia they are similar because of what they had to do to survive, framing the sexual trauma on Mia's part (and thus allegedly also on Jason's) again firmly on the side of survival rather than victimhood. Whether it's by becoming a villain or a hero, there's this rebellion against being an object to the violence, which is at the core of Starlin's treatment of sexual violence. This is fun. We're having fun. I'm repeating myself, but do you understand how satisfying, electrifying it is? I'm filled with unreasonable amounts of glee. You don't always need the context in which a story was written to enjoy it but in this case, doesn't this make it so much more enjoyable? (And on top of that, kudos to Winick for killing Captain Nazi, I hope it was as satisfying to write as it looked.) Anyway, Mia Dearden and Jason Todd, the characters that you are. I love them so much.

[klutzyroses]

IkeVamp HCs: PDA

How do they handle PDA?

Suitors: All

Napoleon

Probably the most normal about PDA.

Handholding? Yes. Hair ruffling? Of course.

The more intimate affection, such as kissing and caressing is reserved for alone time.

Maybe a few cheek kisses wouldn't hurt, an occasional loving whisper in ear at times.

He isn't too over the top with it unless he is trying to tease her.

Because really, seeing her cute blush is worth a little public sappiness. And it would come out of nowhere.

Particularly when he wants a reaction from her, he may initiate it to catch her by surprise, just to fluster her. Not too much though, because he will get embarrassed too.

But in truth, he isn't ashamed of others knowing that he loves her. He will often be found looking at her fondly when she isn't paying attention.

He'll deny he is doing it, but he can't help it. Sometimes he just needs to stop and just...caught up in how much he loves her.

Not that he would tell her that unprompted. That is his little secret for the time being.

Mozart

Um...Public affection? No.

Not likely

If he is out in public with her, even getting him to hold hands would be met with some questioning.

He'd be conscious of appropriate behaviour when out and about, so amorous interactions in front of other people would be out of the question.

His outright avoidance, especially if Y/N initiates, would probably hurt her feelings a little, but it wouldn't be because he doesn't like her touch.

But that's the sort of behaviour he would prefer engaging in away from the prying eyes of the public.

When they're alone, small hand kisses and endearing names are usually his chosen methods.

He would never want her to feel as though he were rejecting her, which is why he would probably address it before it becomes an issue.

Once boundaries are established, its far less of a heartache when he refuses to engage in affectionate behaviour in public.

Leonardo

He is more lowkey about his affection in public, but definitely smooth about it.

One would think they were secret lovers, the way his touches involved brushing her hand surreptitiously, lingering on her skin and leaving it warm.

He is one of the least overt about his affection in public, hence when it happens, it's always so suave and never fails to get his Cara mia's heart racing.

Subtle warm looks, secret touches on her skin, gentle caresses moving her hair from her face.

Those little signs of fondness, brief and subtle as they may be, leave a lasting effect on his amore, even for an instant.

Where he really thrives however, is in his ability to catch her off guard with his words.

Because he is so understated with his physical affection in public, his words pack more of a punch...mostly because they are sudden.

He will drop a casual 'I love you', so easily that at first, it goes over her head, until she does a double take, almost falling over.

He would follow that up by catching her and teasing her about falling for him, causing her to get even more flustered.

A very smooth signor indeed.

Arthur

He is one of the most shameless, second only to Charles.

PDA, for him, is mostly exaggerated to make a point when he is with her.

That point being, he is unavailable and so is she.

He thinks its adorable when she gets flustered over it, so that is, of course, an added bonus.

He is perfectly content announcing their relationship, declaring her to be his love and his darling aloud, to the chagrin of his admirers.

He tends to lean more towards kisses on her hands, winking at her as he does so, feeling his chest swell with pride when he sees that sweet smile on her face, her cheeks tinted a charming pink, earning themselves a quick kiss of their own.

The flirting....the flirting is nonstop, always sweet and maybe just a touch inappropriate with thinly veiled innuendo.

He may tend to overdo it at times, but really, he is just being silly intentionally for her amusement. And maybe to get that blush from her every now and again.

...Although, that is only part of the reason.

He actually loves to touch her and let her know how much he loves her, no matter who is around.

He is aware that he has...a past and sometimes, remnants of that pop up to sour her mood and make her insecure and he hates himself for that. So obviously, he is not shy to show her how much she means to him in front of others.

Theo

Theo's brand of PDA is...definitely different.

He wouldn't be hesitant to claim her in public verbally, calling her his hondje.

Make no mistake, he wouldn't be very touchy feely in front of others, but there will be no doubt that she is his.

Which is why his more physically affection is usually triggered by jealousy or protectiveness.

Sometimes, he can't resist wrapping an arm around her when he senses she is in need of comfort of some kind, be it because someone or something is making her uneasy, just to, in his own Theo kind of way, assure her that he is there.

She is safe with him and he will be damned if she felt any differently when she is out and about with him.

Sometimes, however, when nobody else is really looking, his look will soften when he meets her gaze, or puts a subtle hand on the base of her spine, usually brushing it off as 'directing' her.

Really its just an excuse to touch her, but he would have to be cornered to admit it aloud.

Vincent

The sweetheart was a joy to be around, always.

He is perfectly content holding her hand when he walks with her.

He could be a little socially oblivious at times, flustering his love with rather open declarations of love...wearing a perfectly innocent look on his face.

Sometimes he will take both her hands in his and kiss them, or maybe run his fingers through her hair.

He doesn't really have a reason to give if asked, he just feels like it.

His affection is so sweet, so tender, it may usually result in adoring moments between them where the world seems to disappear and they can only stare at each other, most likely with Y/N being completely taken by his gentle charm, sparkles and flowers surrounding them before someone has to remind them that they are not alone, snapping them out of their enamored stupor.

Put that is the effect Vincent tends to have on his lover, whether other people are around or not.

He may or may not kiss her. It depends on how bold he is feeling that day. Not a deep one, just a quick kiss on her lips, short and sweet.

The more intimate stuff is for behind closed doors. He isn't one to be too inappropriate in public.

He does have the capacity to be embarrassed after all. He may be a bit sheepish if he is called out, pink cheeks and all.

He can't help it. He loves her, that's just a fact.

Isaac

He's...hesitant about it. He's not necessarily averse to it, but...

Well he wouldn't see the reason for being so...overt about their relationship.

Handholding? Well alright, if she really wants to, he will hold her hand while they walk.

But beyond that, he would be a bit more resistant.

Kisses, hugs, the more intimate touches, he does not want others to see that.

So much so that he may even dodge any kisses she may try to give him. Y/N shouldn't take it too personally, even if it does seem as though he were rejecting her, he isn't, honest.

He would scramble to explain that he wasn't ashamed of her in anyway, because it would seem that way after a while.

His affection, however, would be more...subconscious actually.

Playing with the ends of her hair or tracing her palms, little things he wouldn't even be aware he was doing unless pointed out to him.

He's more affectionate when they're alone and it comes as more as a surprise to her, as he would be more confident about just kissing her, or taking the initiative in general, much more so when they're out and about.

Jean

Knowing how Jean is, people would assume that he would be completely against public displays of affection.

The honest truth? They would be correct in some aspects, but...

Not as much as they would think.

Its less because of his aversion to it and more because he has very little idea of how to conduct himself in public as a couple.

Being as socially clueless as he can be at times, he isn't entirely sure what is deemed appropriate and what isn't.

Its somewhat endearing to see him startle his lover by holding her hand seemingly out of nowhere.

He would probably admit that he received advice from the other residents that it was common for lovers to hold hands.

Which is the sweetest thing, but it would seem a bit...disingenuous to Y/N, as though he were doing it because he feels obligated.

But with a bit discussion over boundaries and what was deemed appropriate, a comfortable norm would definitely help him be more at ease and natural with his affection.

He would also be a bit more spontaneous, though always asking for her consent whenever he tries something different.

Dazai

Spontaneous.

He moves to the beat of his own drum, so the opinion of others is...so irrelevant to this man.

When in public with his love, he tends to do whatever comes to mind, no matter how random it may be.

Take her hand count her fingers and compliment them? But of course.

Steal a sweet peck from her and tell her how pretty they looked so he just felt like it? Naturally.

At times it may feel odd, but he has his own way of being affectionate and he doesn't have much impulse control to speak of.

Not since he's had her in his life. He may not be the best at expressing himself...at all, but for better or for worse, she will know she is loved.

Even with his oddball methods of showing it.

He particularly enjoys seeing her blush, so he does go out of his way to surprise her, whether it be by staring at her for prolonged eye contact, just to tell her she is beautiful. Unprompted.

The surprise on her pretty face as her cheeks erupt into red roses brings warmth into his chest as he chuckles, unable to stop himself from caressing one of them.

Anyone watching might think he is random...and he is, but he doesn't pay any mind to that.

Comte

His brand of affection is certainly more restrained. He is a gentleman after all.

He doesn't want to do anything inappropriate in front of others, he wouldn't want to embarrass her.

But he most certainly wasn't shy about wrapping a loving arm around her waist, holding her close to him, his comforting presence washing through her.

He is proud of her and is more than happy to show her off, though only as much as she would allow.

Elegant hand kisses, gracious intertwining of fingers, little acts that are not overboard, but leave little to the imagination.

Where he does go a little overboard is when it comes time to spoil her.

She wants for nothing. Comte's cherie wants for absolutely nothing.

He will gently kiss her forehead when she expresses any concerns, because to make her shine the way she deserves makes him happy.

He worries not over what others think too much, but he is respectful and classy when in the public eye.

Emphasis on when they are in the public eye. Its a different story when they are alone.

Sebastian

Subtle, almost imperceptible, one would miss it if they weren't paying attention.

He is a good deal more reserved about being affectionate when in public.

Perhaps he would take to simply being closer to her, proximity wise.

He may occasionally gently place his hand on her back, usually under the guise of directing her one direction or the other.

Truth be told, one would have to have known Sebastian prior to him being in a romantic relationship to see the difference.

Only then would his more almost secretive touches, that could easily be brushed off as platonic or friendly, be seen in slightly different light.

His demeanor generally isn't all that changed, specially not in public. He really isn't overly affectionate in front of others, but those who know him would definitely be aware that he is more...touchy with her.

Again, nothing too incriminating to the untrained eye, but so long as she understands the sentiment, that's all that really matters anyway.

Vlad

The romantic gestures he would gravitate towards would be more...innocent. Sweet, almost a bit childish in an endearing way.

Playing with her fingers, intertwining his between them, tucking her hair away from her lovely face.

His affection, in public, was more reminiscent of an admirer simply in awe of her.

He is devoted to her and her alone, and sometimes he may just act in the moment, bringing their linked fingers to his lips to his and pressing a kiss to the back of her hand. And of course, slip a flower or two into her hair.

He especially likes to profess his affection with words as much as actions.

Softly whispered words of adoration will often make their way to her, wrapping her in their warmth, even if he isn't actually touching her.

He isn't entirely conscious of how others perceive this, nor does he care all that much. Sometimes he just wants to bask in his love for her, take a moment to be grateful for her and show her that gratitude in full.

Faust

His brand of public affection often sent the message that Y/N was his very close assistant than his lover.

Its not often that it happens to be honest.

In contrast to his oddball sire Vlad and the overly affectionate Charles, he is much muted and covert about being affectionate.

He is quite blunt about it as well, if he is asked, probably by the children he tends to care for, if Y/N is his girlfriend.

He will just say yes, with a completely straight face and leave it at that.

Though the children themselves will be confused, as their fairly naive ideas of grand displays of love will be very much absent when they observe Faust and Y/N.

He would only indulge them by going to kiss her forehead if they didn't stop pestering him about it.

He just doesn't see the appeal of behaving in public how he behaved in private.

Only she needs to see his more vulnerable, genuine side. She's the only one who deserves to.

Charles

Umm...

If left unchecked, he could and would get carried away.

He would not care who is there, he can't keep his hands to himself.

Normally, he sticks to hand holding and cuddling.

But sometimes he'll sneak his hand on her thigh, maybe starts kissing her with reckless abandon.

He has no qualms about sneaking his hand up her dress while does and if she doesn't stop it, they may just start getting a bit wild.

Clothes might start dropping if Charles is left to do as he pleases. Its not so much out of lack of care of what others think, he isn't even thinking about, its more because he just wants to bury her in his love and drown in hers, no matter where and when.

And the mouth on him sometimes...

He is shameless about flirting with her too, oscillating between sugary heartfelt confessions of adoration and more...daring, lascivious declarations.

None of which are discreet.

In the slightest.

Galileo

He doesn't.

The man doesn't do like that.

Frankly, if someone was told explicitly that Galileo and Y/N were a couple, they wouldn't know it by looking at them.

Maybe the most affection seen from him would be standing close to her. Maybe if his guard is down, his face may soften when looking at her. But that's it. Nobody is seeing more than that.

Many people from the outside would question the perceived coldness of the relationship.

The couple would often seem more like acquaintances than lovers.

She would probably be touching him more than he is touching her to be honest.

But in private...that is not the case.

He prefers to keep his more tender side for her and her alone.

When it's just the two of them, he would indulge her with gentle caresses and tender words.

He is very different with her when it's just them, versus when they are out in public.

Drake

Drake doesn't care a great deal about what others think. He does what he wants when he wants to.

He doesn't behave that differently with her in public than he does in private.

Sure, he wouldn't jump her for risky trysts in the open, not unless she was up for it, but he wouldn't balk over kissing her in front of others. He doesn't do it often but he wouldn't be against it.

His boldness goes as far her timidity allows, really.

He's not so much into hand holding as much as he likes giving her head pats, caressing her face and giving her hugs and forehead kisses.

Especially headpats and forehead kisses.

He wouldn't go overboard but needless to say, he is rather affectionate in public. Unabashedly so.

He also flirts and teases rather openly, if only to see her flustered. Whispering in her ear, cornering her against surfaces, he does not care who sees. If called out, he will simply laugh it off.

He cares more about doting on his fawn than anybody else and their opinions anyway.

[turn3tifosi]

VII. andante, andante

pepe marti x classmate!reader

a highschool crush turns into a slow and steady relationship

series masterlist | main masterlist

It all began with your friends’ relentless teasing during lunch break. You were laughing, completely oblivious to the underlying reason for their constant jibes and hints.

“Honestly, how can you not see it?” your best friend Mia said, exasperation lacing her tone.

“See what?” you replied, genuinely puzzled.

“Pepe Marti! He’s totally into you. He’s always watching you in class,” Mia declared, her voice lowering conspiratorially.

Your heart skipped a beat at the mention of his name. Pepe was a famous guy in your school. While you guys were spending hours in classrooms learning history and algebra, he was out racing in different countries, and he was doing pretty well. You’d always admired him from afar but never considered the possibility that he might notice you, let alone like you.

“No way,” you said, shaking your head. “He’s got so much going on with his racing. Why would he be interested in me?”

But the seed had been planted. You couldn’t help but replay moments in your mind—Pepe’s lingering gazes, the shy smiles he directed your way. Maybe your friends were right.

Days passed, and the idea that Pepe liked you began to feel less absurd. You started noticing him more, catching his eyes in class, and each time, he’d look away, cheeks slightly flushed. 

One day, after an extremely boring English lesson, you found yourself alone, gathering your books slowly. You glanced up and saw Pepe standing by the door, seemingly hesitant.

“Hey,” he said, his hands playing with the strap of his backpack.

“Hi!,” you replied, almost too quickly for your liking.

He stepped into the classroom. “Can we talk?”

“Sure!,” you were in no actual mood to talk with anyone, but you were curious about what Pepe wanted to say.

Pepe took a deep breath, and for a moment, he thought about just running away, too scared of your rejection. “I’ve been wanting to tell you something for a while now,” he began, his voice gentle. “I like you. A lot. I know it might sound crazy because we don’t get to spend much time together, but it’s the truth.”

You stood there, stunned into silence. Pepe’s face fell, interpreting your lack of response as rejection. He turned to leave, but before he could take another step, you rushed forward and grabbed his arm.

“Wait,” you said, your voice trembling. “I like you too, Pepe. I really do. But…can we take things slow? I don’t want to rush into anything and risk losing you.”

Relief washed over his features, and he smiled, the kind of smile that lit up his entire face, and yours in return. “Of course. I’d love that.”

From that moment on, your relationship blossomed slowly but beautifully. You’d steal moments between classes, share quiet conversations, and text each other late into the night. Pepe’s racing schedule was demanding, but he always made time for you, even if it was just a brief call from a different time zone.

One evening, as you sat together on a bench in the park, you found yourself lost in his eyes.

“There’s a shimmer in your eyes,” you murmured, as he looked at you curiously. “Like the feeling of a thousand butterflies.”

Pepe smiled and leaned in to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. “You make everything feel like that,” he whispered.

Despite the growing closeness, a part of you remained fearful. What if the demands of his career pulled him away from you? What if the whirlwind of his racing world left no room for your quiet moments?

“Please, let’s take it slowly,” you’d often say, your voice betraying your insecurities.

Pepe would always hold you close, his embrace reassuring. “We will. I’m not going anywhere,” he’d promise.

Your relationship became a delicate dance, balancing the excitement of new love with the caution of taking things step by step. Pepe continued with his racing career, and you got into university, majoring in mechanical engineering.

And in the moments after the race, when he’d return to you, exhausted but elated, you’d see it in his eyes—the same shimmer, the same butterflies. He was yours, and you were his, moving forward together, one gentle step at a time.

[weemsfreak]

The Only One

Hi ya'll, happy pride month!!

Sorry for being mia, I have been quite busy with school and also working on this (slowly) all of June. I was unsure of the vibes I wanted this story to give, as I have been feeling confused(?) as of late, and for some reason June has brought many feelings and a couple crap experiences that I wanted to incorporate into here. I did make the story hopeful toward the end, but I just wanted to say that if anyone feels this way, you are not alone!

Calling our Lesbian Headmistress to help make the confusing and lonely times a bit better with a pride event. I know not everybody likes to celebrate pride in this way, but I thought it was cute.

Larissa Weems x studentreader (platonic) ~4.6k words

Part of my 'All the Time' series, based on reader being a lesbian but struggles with her sexuality and falls for her straight friend (canon experience ;))

Warnings: partially closeted, mention of family not understanding, self reflection (internalized homophobia/being proud)

༻༺

Nobody ever talks about how lonely it is, being queer in a small town.

The lack of representation, of places to go, and people to meet. The sliver of hope that you will feel safe if you decide to venture, if you decide to try.

Her with him and him with her and 'girl crush' this and 'man crush' that.

But all in all, you thought that perhaps the worst of it all was the feeling of being the only one.

You listen to songs that describe other places, places you wish your mother would tell you to go.

You know she wants you to stay, but you can't ignore the crazy visions of you in…well, somewhere that perhaps doesn't exist- or maybe it does.

Somewhere a different version of yourself could live; hopeful, happy, proud.

Your favorite movie, which makes you feel accepted, alive, is less than ten years old, even though you're a fan of old classic Hollywood.

You don't see yourself in them.

Many times before, you've heard people say 'it would be so much easier to be gay.'

They must've been joking, of course; but being gay was not a joke.

They joke about being gay but they've never wondered if their family would still love them.

They joke about being gay but they've never been scared of their friends abandoning them and talking behind their back.

They joke about being gay but they've never rejected a man with the reason of being interested in women, just for the man to ask if it's the truth, 'they could turn you', so they say.

They joke about being gay but they've never been the quiet one when others talked about boys.

They joke about being gay but they've never felt like they were disrespecting women because they found them attractive.

They joke about being gay but they've never been the outcast.

They joke about being gay but they've never worried about their loved ones not attending their wedding.

They joke about being gay but they've never pretended to like men to try and fit in with their peers.

They joke about being gay but they've never had nobody to talk to.

They joke about being gay but they've never had nobody to cry to.

They joke about being gay but they've never wished they were a boy, for the sole reason of a woman liking them back.

They joke about being gay but they've never had to love somebody in secret.

They joke about being gay but they'll never know what it feels like.

As bad as you felt, through the loneliness, the grief, the 'what ifs' and the doubt, it wasn't the fact of being queer that scared you, it wasn't that you weren't open, or accepting.

What did hurt though, was what came with it.

The fear of never finding someone, the fear of being rejected and harmed in public, the fear of never understanding how you really felt; the fear of feeling too deeply.

There have been times where you almost, almost, decided to leave it be.

'In another life' you said, shrugging your shoulders as a tear dripped down your cheek at the thought of faking it, and marrying a man.

But one day, you were reading a book dated from the 60s, when the realization hit you.

Years ago, regrettably not that many, you would not have the choice, you would not have the freedom.

And here you were, in the age of progression, hiding away in the land of heterosexuals.

You had a choice, you had freedom.

For the woman before you who were stuck in sham marriages, cried themselves to sleep, snuck around with another woman and feared for their life, for the women who raised children but not with whom they loved, for the women who had no such thing as freedom of choice.

You would not fake it, you would not hide, you would be your true self for them, and for you, regardless of the very possible fact that you could be the only queer in this small town.

༻༺

The headmistress stood outside of the chemistry classroom one gloomy morning, greeting students as they entered as your teacher always did.

You sauntered through the halls as you watched your peers and their modernistic and typical ways.

You weren't sure who's twisted idea it was, to put hundreds of adolescents in underfunded schools run by people whose dreams were crushed years ago…but you admired the sadism.

Opening your locker and retrieving your books, your sketchbook met the floor with an echo when a guy accidentally bumped into you.

"Oh crap, sorry Y/N"

You gave him a menacing look, before taking a breath and straightening yourself out.

"No worries."

His friend, who had shoved him into you, continued on to class as he spoke from down the hall. "C'mon man, leave the freak alone."

You expected him to continue on as well, but he didn't.

"How are things going?"

You'd likely be late for class if he kept the conversation up.

"A lot of this" you shrugged, pointing to your books.

"Yea, me too. The harvest festival is coming up though, I know you love the fall, and all things creepy."

You huffed in amusement, nodding your head.

"It’s nice to have things to look forward to."

He smiled and nodded, looking to his feet.

"Well, I'll see you there. Maybe I'll message you?"

You shook your head uninterested, not holding him to it.

"Sure."

Bending down to pick your sketchbook up off the floor, it was open to a doodle you had done which was rather, well, not appropriate for school.

Slamming your sketchbook shut, you stood and met your locker mirror; your own reflection, as well as the principals, smiling back at you.

Jump scare.

"Good morning, darling."

You spun around in surprise, staring wide eyed.

"Principal Weems, good morning."

She nodded as she looked at you in amusement, hoping to hide her true thoughts about your morning interactions.

"Where is Ms. Currie?"

The principal tilted her head at you, "Out today. I was notified last minute, so I'm your substitute."

Well, it was your lucky day.

The principal never failed to notice your…disinterest.

She didn't fail to notice the way some students picked on you, nor your lack of emotion; your presence of indifference towards men.

She saw herself in you, you were just like her.

That thought brought her both joy and pain.

༻༺

Sitting in the quad, you nervously twisted your fingers as you watched your friend approach.

You had heard, apparently, that it was a 'cannon lesbian experience' to have a crush on your friend.

Man were they right, and man, did it hurt.

She sat with a smile, though you could see that her attention was diverted.

"Hi."

"Hey Mar."

You swallowed, looking her in the eye across the table.

"I um, I was thinking, the Rave 'N is soon, maybe we could go together…"

Just then, you watched Gannon make his way to the table and sit beside your friend.

She squealed lightly, pulling him closer to her.

"Y/N, did I tell you Gannon and I are going to the Rave 'N together?!"

Your heart dropped, but it wasn't anything new, it wasn't at all surprising.

For you knew your friend liked men, but you had thought that maybe, well, you didn’t know; maybe there was hope that someone could be like you.

"Oh, uh, congratulations."

Your heart panged as they looked into each others eyes, smiling in anticipation.

"So, what were you talking about?"

You shook your head and let out a weak chuckle, quickly thinking of an excuse.

"I um, I was thinking maybe we could get ready for the Rave'N together, that could be fun."

Marcella smiled as she stood, linking her arm with Gannon's.

"Sure! I'll see you later!"

The principal, who supervised lunch in the quad, watched your rejection with disappointment and regret.

It dug deep, it brought back memories of her own time at Nevermore; the hate and the heartbreak that she felt, that you felt.

Sometimes, things never changed.

'I don't know if I believe the way I feel is real

And I often wonder if it is

Watching your friend dance with a guy

And pondering whether it's what she truly wishes

Should you step in, or leave her be?

You know you wouldn’t wish it, but does she?

It hurts a bit, a little, a lot; watching her dance so close to him

And maybe she'd dance with you like that too

But not in this life, no, not now,

For she's dancing with him, and you watch from the crowd'

༻༺

You knew it wasn’t the fault of your own; the despair, the regret, the loneliness.

But, you couldn't help but feel it when you were alone, so utterly alone, regardless of the fact that you could be surrounded by people.

They'd never understand the feeling of being so outcast, ironically, the feeling of being so different. The feeling of being told that how you felt was somehow wrong.

You felt it, you felt it wholeheartedly; and how could your heart be wrong?

Your parents, who never meant any harm, contradicted themselves.

Honestly, you couldn't exactly say how, but it hurt in a way that you didn't understand.

You thought maybe they were smarter, more knowledgeable, perhaps wiser than you.

They had always said that you could talk to them, but it was useless, as any attempt made you feel worse, not better.

They had been on this earth for sometime, however, surely they must've experienced the hate, and transformed themselves to some degree?

Wishful thinking.

They could never be so open.

And you think, maybe that's what hurt the most; wishing they could understand, wishing they would care enough to understand.

Alas, wishing was useless.

There were nights where you prayed for an older, wiser being to cry to. Someone who could tell you what to do and how to feel, someone who would listen, someone who would care.

Someone who would see you. Someone who understood, because they felt it themself.

༻༺

You made every attempt to be true to yourself.

To not lie, to let yourself feel what you felt, to get out more; to live.

It was hard to be true to yourself, though, when your friends agreed to accompany you to a pride day in Jericho, and then ditched you.

You resented them, you envied them, they didn't know what it felt like; they never would.

The hurt multiplied ten fold when June came around. The hiding, the thinking, the loneliness, it didn't settle, it didn't stop.

After an hour of scrubbing off your makeup, crying face down into your bed, and ditching your  themed outfit, you arrived in Jericho, the opening ceremony finished.

The town square was very festive, multiple restaurants and shops agreed to host a scavenger hunt, crafted special meals to celebrate, provide smaller fun activities, and fireworks. You were proud of the small town of Jericho, they were trying; as were you.

And although they were trying, these activities were not really fun to do, well…alone.

Alas, that's what you were. Alone.

Passing by the Weathervane, you saw a small group of Nevermore students on their way out. You wanted to join in, but you didn’t know them, not that well.

Peering over at the counter, you found a drink special for the day;

'buy any regular sized drink, get rainbow whipped cream for free.'

You snorted, it was rather cheesy, but cute.

Stepping up to the counter, you ordered an iced coffee.

"Would you like rainbow whipped cream on that?"

You sighed, about to shake your head no when you heard a voice at the other end of the counter.

"Thank you, dear. This looks delicious."

She was standing tall with a red lipped smile, peering down at her hot chocolate; rainbow whipped cream on top.

You had to agree, it did look delicious.

"Yes, uh, whipped cream please."

As soon as your drink was made, you beelined it for the door, hoping she wouldn't see you.

It wasn't that you didn’t want to see her, it wasn't that you didn’t want to talk.

It was that you didn’t want her to see you- alone.

Unsure of where to go next, you stood on the sidewalk and tried your drink; delicious.

The doorbell rang and she stepped out, gazing around the streets.

In a flash, you turned and headed down the sidewalk, away from the activities, away from her.

"Y/N?"

You stopped, slowly turning as if you were unsure of where the voice had come from.

A wave, a smile, and she was next to you in a few strides.

"Darling, you're going the wrong way, the festival is this way!"

She never failed to make you happy, her and her rainbow hot chocolate.

You shrugged, "I uh, I don't really want to participate."

Her head tiled in question as she caught sight of your drink.

"You're not interested in celebrating pride?"

Well, that just made you sound homophobic. You shook your head quickly.

"No, no I am. I just, my friends were supposed to come with me but, they changed their minds I guess."

The principal looked down at you, your head hung in sadness, perhaps shame.

Today was not a day to be sad, it was not a day to be shameful, it was a day to be proud, to celebrate.

"Well, I am here with a few Nevermore students. I am proud to support them, no matter who or what they are."

You couldn't help but smile crookedly in awe, meeting her appreciative blue gaze. She bent down closer to you, softening her voice. "That includes you, love."

Your heart beat fast as you stared in surprise, tears threatened to spill as you felt accepted and cared for, for the first time in a long time.

Taking a sip of your drink with a shaky hand, you fiddled with your jewellery.

The woman saw you thinking, contemplating.

She felt the exact same at your age. Knowing who you were, to an extent, but pushing the feeling away with every chance you got.

You didn’t want to, she knew, you wanted to be proud, she knew, but it was hard when you felt like the only one, the only one in this small town.

"How about we try the scavenger hunt, hmm?"

You looked up at her with a frown, but inside you felt joyful.

"We're probably already behind" you chuckled.

The woman waved a hand in dismissal, "Nonsense. We have a good chance if we work together."

༻༺

1.

You made your way back into the Weathervane, retrieving the first clue to the hunt.

'If the first pride flag was designed in Jericho, it would've been designed here.'

You passed the first clue to her, knowing the first pride flag was designed in 1978. If it had have been designed in Jericho, well, you had three options.

The woman smiled, gasping lightly as she recalled "'Sew it forward', it was established here in the 1960s."

༻༺

2.

You followed the intriguing woman to 'Sew it forward', watching as she retrieved the second clue and stamped the pride book red.

She took the clue between her fingers, narrowing her eyes at the small writing.

'This famous bar in New York City was the site of the 1969 riots, a pivotal event in LGBTQ+ history. Find the Jericho bar that starts with the same letter.'

You racked your brain around the bars in Jericho. You have never been to the bars besides for lunch.

"Stones!"

The principal raised a brow at you, a small smirk on her face.

"What?! Just because I'm not of age doesn’t mean I haven't been. Stones has good pizza."

A loud laugh was heard throughout the fabric shop. You were overjoyed that you could make her laugh freely, albeit most likely sounding stupid.

She headed for the door; and you would follow her anywhere.

༻༺

3.

Arriving at Stones, you found those also attempting the hunt, and those drowning in drinks.

You stamped the book with the second stamp, orange, and retrieved the third clue.

'Locate a pin or item that displays personal pronouns or sexual orientation, both important ways to respect people's identities.'

Leading the way out into the street, you looked around.

You didn’t remember seeing a shop with a prominent pin or badge.

"A pin or badge."

You looked up at the tall woman, her eyebrows furrowed in question.

Raking your eyes over her form, you found a brooch on her jacket, one you knew she wore often.

Lips.

"Where did you get that brooch?"

She peered down at her brooch, straightening it out as a light blush overtook her cheeks.

"Oh, my brooch. I got it at the antique shop, Uriah's Heap."

Uriah's Heap, a shop so very, well, out of the ordinary.

It was your favorite.

You stared at her for a moment hoping she would catch on, until her eyes widened in excitement.

"Let's go!" she smiled, grabbing your hand as she drug you to the shop.

༻༺

4.

You stood outside of Uriah's Heap, finding a large progressive pride flag pin on their window.

You knew this was a scavenger hunt, a race of some sort, but you always loved searching for hidden treasures in the shop that many people didn’t appreciate.

Following the principal, she found her way to the antique jewelry.

Choosing a vintage locket, you placed it on the counter and found a basket of pins staring back at you.

"Hello, did you find something of interest?"

The woman, who you remembered enjoyed chaga tea after working here on outreach day, peered down at you.

"Yes, may I purchase this?"

Peering over at the tall woman, she held a brooch up to you.

"Do you think this is nice, darling?"

A brooch which you thought resembled an eye. Very fitting for the principal and her unique look.

"It's beautiful, it matches your bracelet."

She smiled gratefully down at you, placing it on the counter.

"You are very perceptive" she remarked.

The lady rang up both items, the principal speaking up.

"Oh, I'll purchase that separate."

You shook your head at her with a sly smile, "I got it Principal Weems."

After purchasing your items, the principal retrieved the fourth clue and stamped the book yellow.

'What LGBTQ+ novel, written by Sheridan Le Fanu, preceded Dracula?'

You had read this book recently, an easy clue, really.

"Carmilla"

The woman looked down at you in surprise, nodding her head.

"Great novel, absolutely the best. I'm proud" she winked.

You smiled, gaze landing on the floor bashfully before peering back over at the pins in the basket.

The woman noticed and sorted through them. "Hmm, so many options. Would you like one?"

You watched as she held them in her hands to you, every option they had available.

There were so many colors, so many flags and pronouns.

You hummed and hawed over them, knowing which you wanted to chose, but still unsure.

"Well, I think I like this one."

The principal chose one; red, orange, white and pink stripes staring back at you.

Your mouth opened in shock as you watched her pin it to her jacket.

She smiled mischievously, "What's the matter, darling?"

The lesbian flag, something you didn't see often included in pride merchandise.

"I, uh, are you…" you stuttered.

The woman chuckled, straightening out the pin. "A lesbian?"

You nodded speechless as you stared up at her, thrill running through your veins.

She clasped her hands together and gave one nod, a bright smile as she batted her eyelashes your way.

Her support, her happiness, the confidence that she had, it made you want to cry.

You were so, so happy for her, you were so very proud.

Proud of her for her openness, proud of her for her representation, proud of her for being her true self, and for showing others that it was okay to be gay.

Grateful for her bravery, to show others that they were not alone.

You took a deep breath, "Can I have the same one?"

She dug through the pins, finding the very same flag and holding it out to you, "May I?"

You nodded, presenting your jacket to her.

She pinned in on, running a hand soothingly over your arm.

"I'm so very proud of you, darling."

You breathed in heavily, taking in her sincere and caring smile before meeting her gaze.

"I'm proud of you too, Principal Weems. And I'm so happy for you, thank you."

It was all the principal had wished for on this day, to help at least one person through their journey. To help you present yourself, to help you feel like you deserved to be seen, to help you feel proud.

"Of course, love. Now, where can we find the novel 'Carmilla'?"

Well, the library or bookstore, of course. But, you took a bet that Carmilla may not be at the library, so you headed to the bookstore.

༻

5. Crow bookshop

You retrieved the second last clue, stamping the book green.

'Locate the basket prepared for a festive outdoor meal, filled with colorful snacks and drinks. Perfect for a celebration under the open sky.'

The principal looked down at you in contemplation.  "The Basket, like the restaurant?"

You shrugged your shoulders, unsure of where else they would be referring to.

༻༺

6.

You arrived at 'The Basket', a restaurant just before the beach.

There were a few specials, a fruit basket, a flight of ciders, and a flight of sliders.

You knew the principal was a fan of burgers.

"Are you hungry?"

The tall woman looked down at you, smiling as she read over the special.

"Chipotle, Bacon and cheese, Veggie, Bean, Texas, and Chicken sliders. Would you like to share?"

You looked over the menu, rereading what she had just rhymed off.

Nodding, you asked, "What's a flight?"

She chuckled, ordering the special for you both.

"You're about to find out."

Sitting at a table on the back patio, you settled down across from the principal.

A moment silence, you looked her up and down, questioning many things.

An older, wiser being. A beautiful one who appeared to be pretty open, who seemed like she'd understand, who seemed like she cared.

"How did you know that you liked women and not men?"

The woman raised her gaze to you, lips stretching into a sad smile.

She took a deep breath and smoothed a napkin over her lap.

"Well, when I was your age, this small town was all that I knew, just like you.

I knew that I didn't feel the same as my peers, I never cared to talk about boys, I never really fit in in the way that I hoped to.

One day I realized that I wouldn't at all mind kissing my friend, in fact I longed to" she chuckled. "Representation was lacking, but what little of it there was, it helped me realize how I felt as I grew. It's hard to accept yourself, for many reasons, but when you try to push it away, it doesn't get any better, it never changes."

Your voice was hoarse as you asked in confirmation.  "It never changes?"

She shook her head, "It never changes. You have to decide for yourself.

Do whatever makes you happy, feel whatever makes you happy, no matter how different it is, no matter how alone you may feel."

You pursed your lips as tears built in your eyes, she was right, of course she was.

"Well, it helps knowing I'm not the only one."

The woman nodded her head in agreement, wallowing over the memories of her feeling alone, of her heartbreakingly coming to the realization of how she truly felt, of who she really was.

It brought her sadness, to know that others felt the same; perhaps even worse.

"The journey is not an easy one, it's not for the weak. You have to know that you're strong, and you're worthy, always."

The sliders were placed on your table, averting her attention.

She carefully cut them all in half, holding up a piece of the bacon and cheese as she offered the rest to you.

"Bon appétit."

The principal stamped the book blue and picked up the last clue.

 '"At midnight, in the month of June, I stand beneath the mystic moon." What establishment is named after this poet?'

She looked down at you with a finger pointed your way.

You scrunched your eyebrows, Edgar Allan Poe.

The only establishment could be, "The Poe!"

You and the principal laughed, shouting the answer at the same time.

༻༺

7.

 You headed to The Poe, a small museum and shop on the beach that sold trinkets, drinks, and ice cream.

Principal Weems stamped the last page purple, turning in the scavenger hunt book to the shop.

"Well, congratulations! You were fifth to finish the scavenger hunt."

You laughed, fifth place.

The tall woman smiled down at you with a wink, "We're losers."

You both were, in fact, losers.

After collecting your prizes and ordering ice cream, which the principal insisted on, you made your way to a bench on the beach.

You watched the woman with great interest. An intelligent, interesting woman she was. A powerful, selfless woman. A perceptive woman, a force to be reckoned with.

You hoped and prayed that you would grow up to be at least half the person that she was.

The principal caught your interest with a low chuckle.

"I'm having lots of fun with you, love, but I'm sorry you had to spend the day with your principal."

You tilted your head in confusion; you were not sorry, not one bit.

"I'm not sorry. Today was the best day I've had in awhile. Thank you."

The woman pouted, opening her arms to you; you gladly embraced her.

With a deep breath you pulled away, placing your hand in her soft reassuring one.

"So what happened with your friend? The one you wanted to kiss?"

The principal chuckled remorsefully. "Nothing."

Looking out over the water, her smile turned to a frown.

"I wanted to hold her, to protect her from men with all the fury I had grown.

They don't see her beauty like I do, they don't care to.

But unfortunately, it's the same old story."

She turned to you with sad eyes.

"A girl cries over a girl and that girl cries over a guy, and well…

it goes on and on and on,

and it doesn't stop.

It never stops."

You were just like her, perhaps there was hope for you.

Just then, fireworks lit up the darkness of the beach. All colors of the spectrum were on display, but all you saw was red, orange, white, and pink.

Your attention was then diverted to a girl wearing a Nevermore uniform as she made her way to you.

She waved, "Hi Principal Weems."

She then looked to you. "Hi Y/N"

She spoke with the principal as you analyzed her. You recognized her, but you didn't know her name, so how did she know yours?

The girl's eyes landed on you once again, meeting your gaze. You didn't want to ask.

"Aura, I like your pin." A sly tone to the older woman's voice.

You followed the principals gaze to the pin on Aura's jacket, then you peered down at the pin attached to yours.

"Thanks Principal Weems" she smiled, eyes slowly trailing to the woman's pin, then to yours.

Your eyebrows furrowed, and Aura's raised in surprise.

"Oh, we all have the same pin!"

The principal chuckled, gazing down at you with a bright smile.

"See darling, you're never alone. I promise you're not the only one."

[annbourbon]

Mystic Messenger Timeline (Explained)

I'll be obviously skipping a lot of stuff in between, but this is just to make things clear. It's not the way you're supposed to play, just the timeline.

⚠️ Contains Spoilers ⚠️

⚠️⚠️ Spoilers ahead ⚠️⚠️

⚠️⚠️ You've been warned ⚠️⚠️

First Rika Behind the Story (DLC)

Then I'll start counting as Year 1, the events that lead to the RFA and Mint Eye foundation.

Year 1:

V and Rika know each other

They meet Saeyoung

Saeyoung leaves

Rika kills the Twins's mom

Rika gets engaged to V

Mika and Rika (Mina) create 1st draft of Mint Eye

V buys the department

*on that note, seems that there are 4 cameras but Saeyoung only knows of one*

**This also implies that Saeran was abused as soon as V and Saeyoung took their eyes off of him since Rika used Saeran as model to defeat Saeyoung's skills as a hacker.

***What happens because neither Saeyoung nor V know anything about Saeran whenever they reunite for RFA parties and their engagement? Why no one asked anything?

Year 2:

Rika meets Jumin

RFA begins (yes, it was Mint Eye first, and the reason why the name was Magenta first. Mika?) June's Route in The Ssum, First Season. According to Jumin.

The Ssum Timeline

3. RFA 1st party is held

4 Jaehee joins RFA

5. Rika kills Sally

5. RFA 2nd party is held

6. According to V and Saeyoung this is where the hacker starts attacking the RFA (first time)

7. Jumin said he lost contact with V and Rika after the 2nd party.

There's a point where Jumin admits barely seeing Rika after the 2nd party. Meeting with her and V for the last time 3 months before her death. Yoosung Route. Day 9. Chat room 7AM called V's eyes.

According to several chats during Yoosung route, they barely paid attention to V being blinded. This of course included Zen, Yoosung, and Jumin (who is worried and suspects something but doesn't intervene despite V having severe corneal damage from external trauma)

8. Rika must have blind V at some point during these three months.

9. Saeyoung installed the Special System. AKA: The Bomb

10. "Rika commits suicide"

Plot holes: Where's Mika? Why they don't notice there's another person living there? It's not that easy to hide your presence 💀

But according to V, he knew about Mika. It's at least implied.

*At the same time, there's a line, I forgot where exactly, that says that both, Rika and V called off their engagement at some point. They don't say anything about coming back together after that. wtf!?*

Another Story

1 month after her death, prologue.

Five months later

*means 4 months after they break up their engagement? Assuming they did not break up before but because of Rika behavior blinding him. Which kind of solves the plot holes from Year 1 setting Mika on the apartment and V not fully knowing but suspecting, although it would be impossible or almost impossible without his eyes do something about it. Especially since his blindness is recent. If you need to understand a bit more about blindness watch my post on Rika killing Sally. It may be a dog, unlike V lol but it's still enough information to set up the rest of the story.

Anyways, let's go back to our timeline no?

Bad ending prologue #1 (Casual & Deep) and #2 (Another) are part of the same story and unlikely that it is set into an *alternative route* like some people like to say. Bad ending prologues even from Another Story seem to fit almost too perfectly when you think about it, but only if you agree to go with Unknown after rejecting him several times.

Because it would fit into the idea that the MC's were captured by the cult and discarded after a while (or put to work under Mint Eye. But also because according to the opening on the Casual and Deep, it would mean that Saeran's been watching you, so does Saeyoung.)

As I said before, the other MC's are either dead or anything but MIA (whatever that means for Mint Eye?) and this one, the brunette, is selected and it's the only one who survives and passed the whole trial. Not at first but it doesn't matter. This MC is not dead. The others are. You think "The others" are just the player with different image? I've got news for you, each one of this has a number~ check this post ^^

Either you become the assistant of Unknown with that bad ending which is an option available for every prologue or you enter Day 1 to Day 4 of Another Story and play throughout to reach:

Day 6 and Day 10 from Ray/Saeran Route which are part of the same ending. They're not a different ending. Both however lead to the Casual Route, Day 1 (after the prologue)

Which means, if you get the bad ending in the prologue of Casual/Deep you'll be going back to Mint Eye. Yes. It's not supposed to be your first rodeo there. And if you have a Bad Ending on Mint Eye, you're brainwashed andd set on Casual/Deep (You're supposed to be an spy, but who do you work for? Are you a victim or a villainess? that's another story 😜)

My theory?

*This is where I'm still stuck, so I'll be fixing major plots here and there and editing this same post over and over until I get it right. Please bear with me 😭*

Rika DLC > 1st party > Rika gets engaged > Saeyoung leaves > Rika kills Sally > Rika kills Saeran's mom > Rika starts torturing Saeran > Mint Eye begins > 2nd party > Hacker attack > Bomb is installed > Rika blinds V > Rika dies > Another Story (prologue) > Another Story (Day 1 to 4) > Another Story (Day 6 & 10, bad relationship both of them) obviously with what causes these bad endings > Casual Route (with bad endings included) > Deep Story (with bad endings included) > Secret Endings (except for V dying, we'll get there) > Another Story again but V route happens first (no happy or normal ending) and then something weird happens:

And this part if I'm being honest, I have no idea but I'm fixing it cause my theory is that

V and Saeran's route become so intertwined that is almost impossible to know what happened.

The bomb on Mint Eye? Saeran? Although it is suggesting in the bad endings that he died, we never saw that to happen.

V dying in the secret endings?

Saeran burn?

Seven does mention a couple of numbers, associated with the other MCs, somewhere in the game. Unfortunately I can't remember if it's on a call or a chat so I'm going back all over again because I was so shocked at the time I was unable to take a screenshot.

Truth to be said I can't fully find the order rn but! I will, I definitely will. I need time. I mean, more time. I've been working on this for 6 to 7 years now, I'm posting this because it's so big I can't keep it to myself and I'm freaking out here. So I'll be editing this in the future. As many of my other posts. Sorry lol

Ironically, Saeran's AE would be indeed the Final Ending.

Additional Note: Because of time travel, Mystic Messenger is a non linear story, which means you need to pick upon clues here and there to understand where the timeline goes. The other games have a similar issue but not as pronounced as this.

[theunholybastard]

Kinktober: October 14th - Pregnancy (Papa Emeritus II x Female!Reader)

Tags: Established Relationship, Pregnancy, Body Worship, Praise, Nipple Pinching/Sucking, Gentle Sex, Creampie, Fluff And Smut, 2nd Person POV

It feels as if you've been bedridden your entire pregnancy. You really were doing relatively fine despite your delicate condition, save for the semi-frequent morning sickness and your sore, swollen ankles. Other than that, a fairly easy pregnancy was blessed upon you, but that didn't stop Secondo from hovering over you constantly, as if a small gust of wind would cause you to shatter into a million pieces.

Secondo was always intensely protective, even before you got pregnant, but now? It was amplified a hundred times stronger. When he wasn't doing a concert or attending some useless meeting, he would be by your side, tending to his beloved wife, no exceptions. Rubbing your lower back and swollen stomach, brewing you herbal remedies picked straight from the ministry gardens, hand preparing every meal that comes your way, mindful of your nausea. It was perfect. Nearly perfect. There is one need he has not tended to in quite some time.

He complimented you about a thousand times a day, swearing up and down every second he was around that you were the most beautiful, radiant creature he ever had the pleasure of laying his eyes upon, that he was so lucky you were his. But despite how much he said you were beautiful, you didn't feel beautiful. He hadn't touched you since you started to show, despite the countless times you tried to initiate. He would always find an excuse, how you need your rest, or he needs to work, or some other bullshit. At first you believed him, but after 6 months of nothing but rejection, you couldn't help but feel that he simply doesn't want you.

You would have to hold back tears every time he would gently nudge you off of him, feeling unwanted and defeated. Did your appearance really change that much to the point he was this repulsed by you? You could tell he was trying so hard to be a good husband, and you knew when the baby was here he would be an amazing father, but was the physical attraction he had for you really gone? Before the pregnancy, he couldn't get enough of you, practically rabid the second he got his hands on you, and you loved it. Would he ever touch you with such intensity again?

As you lay in bed that night, completely nude, (as that was when you were most comfortable) Secondo sat beside you, looking absolutely delectable. Shirtless and devoid of his Papal paints, reading a book, not so much as glancing at your nude body sprawled out against the sheets. Your hand came up to his chest, fingers running through his thick, greying chest hair. "Secondo...?" You purr, attempting to seduce him once more. "Si, cara mia?" He responds, not even looking up from his book to acknowledge you. You can feel the humiliation start to brim already. Still, you persist.

"It's been a while..." Is all you say, and all that was needed for him to get the message. He chuckles. "It's late, amore. You need your rest." He excuses. You feel all the blood drain from your face, tears brimming in your eyes once again. You're angry, heartbroken, and sexually frustrated, your hormones only amplifying your emotions. This time, you cannot blink back your tears, falling from your eyes and streaming hotly down your face.

Secondo finally looks up when he hears you sniffle, his relaxed expression swiftly shifting to one of pure concern when he sees you, immediately setting down his book to assess the problem. "Amore?" He asks softly, his hand coming up to wipe away your tears. You wish you could just stop crying, but the dam had already broken. "Why don't you want me?" You sob brokenly. His brows furrow in confusion.

"What do you mean? Of course I want you, my dear." He assures, hands cradling your face, thumbs swiping at your tears as they flow like a windshield wiper. His words only make you cry harder. "You won't touch me anymore! It's been months. I have needs, you know. You can stop lying to me, Secondo, I know you find me repulsive..." You shudder, taking shaky little breaths in between every sentence.

"Hey." He asserts firmly, his gaze on you now dangerously serious and unwaivering, not even blinking as he speaks. "Don't you dare call me a liar. You know I would never. After everything we've been through together, you have to know this." He practically pleads with you to hear him out. You collapse in his arms, bawling inconsolably. It's true, he has never lied to you before, never once given you a reason to distrust him. He has always been a man of his word. But then why do you feel like this?

Secondo sighs, stroking you back soothingly. "I have been neglecting my husbandly duties, haven't I? I've made you feel like this, my poor girl..." He coos apologetically, kissing the top of your head, lingering longer than usual. "My magnificent, perfect wife. I haven't been taking care of you the way you need. But you must know, it's not because I don't want you. Far from that."

"T-then why?" You sniffle, sounding small and pathetic. He frowns, smacking his lips as he begins to speak. "I... I worry for you, amore. I don't want to hurt you. I don't want to hurt the baby." He admits. Your crying slows down, hiccuping softly. "You know how rough I am. I'm afraid I won't be able to make the switch into gentility, that I won't be able to control myself. You're so beautiful like this... Hell, if I had it my way, I would keep you like this all the time. I never thought you could become more irresistible to me than you already were. You're so fucking... It has taken every ounce of restraint in me to keep my hands off of you, little dove."

You listen to his words intently, and for the first time in months, he has an excuse that makes a lick of sense. You believe him. "Why didn't you just say so?" You laugh in between tears, now reaching up to caress his face in return. "Secondo, I'm fine."

"I know you say that, but-"

"No. I listened to you, now you listen to me." You scold lightly. "I am doing good. The doctor says so. The baby is healthy and safe. You aren't going to hurt us. You and I both want this. Please, stop denying me pleasure. Stop denying yourself. If it's ever too much for me, I would tell you. You know I would." He nods, looking down, deep in thought for a moment.

"You promise you will warn me?" He asks, his voice gravely, his worry still evident, but it's clear he's trying to loosen up. You nod, a hopeful smile developing. He gulps, his eyes fogging with a barely concealed desire. His hands trail to your breasts, which have grown significantly larger since the beginning of your pregnancy, heavy with milk. "I've been neglecting you." He says plainly, his breathing labored. "I won't ever again."

In an instant, he is on you, kissing passionately and hovering over you, mindful of the large baby bump in the way. His touches are feverish, yet cautious, gentle as he can be. His fingers pinch at your sensitive nipples, earning a sharp gasp from you. You can see where he's coming from now; if he were to use half as much force as he usually uses, he would break you in this state, shattering like fine porcelain.

"Look at these beautiful tits." He rasps, dipping his head down to take one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking softly, while the other hand continues to pinch my other one. He pops his mouth off temporarily. "So tender and full for our child, hm? I do hope you'll give me a taste when the time comes." His words make your head swirl, drunk with lust.

He takes his cock out of his pajama bottoms, spitting in his hand and rubbing the slick up and down his shaft. He lines himself up with your eager cunt, the extra lubricant unnecessary from how dripping wet you already were. "Are you ready?" He asks. "Just fuck me!" You basically scream, a little too enthusiastic, pulling a hearty chuckle from Secondo, slowly starting to push the head in.

The stretch was incredible, your mouth hung open in a silent scream. Your body seemed to welcome it greedily, too long did you wait for this moment. He bottoms out with a strained groan, clearly it has been way too long for him, too. "I might not last too long, my dear. Y-youre so fucking tight..." He warns, grasping at the supple fat of your thighs. You smile, hips wiggling against his, desperate for him to move.

"T-that's okay. Please take me." You say breathlessly. And take you he does, rocking his hips in and out gently, setting a slow and delicate pace for the two of you. Despite the fragility of his shallow thrusts, you're borderline howling at the feeling, hypersensitive to every movement, your condition only heightens the pleasure you were experiencing, the overstimulation teetering on pain. Secondo takes his time to fondle every inch of your body, everything noticeably bigger and fuller since last time he had you. It drove him crazy.

"Cazzo, if you weren't already filled with my seed, I'd fuck a baby into you right now." He growls, reveling in the sound of your loud, whorish moans. It spurs him to rock a little faster, still deeply careful with his thrusts, his body seeming to already know what would be too much for you. "You're fucking irresistible, amore mio. Possiedi il mio cuore..."

It's all too much, and soon enough, one particular rut of his hips has you cumming around his length, shaking and crying from the exceptionally all consuming force of it all. He follows soon after, flooding your pussy with his white hot load. He stills inside, heaving over you, struggling to catch his breath. After a minute or two, his brows furrow in discomfort as he pulls out, missing the warmth your pussy provided, his spend leaking onto the silk sheets. Leaning over, he kisses your rounded stomach, humming in satisfaction.

"How do you feel?" He asks, concerned. You smile dazily. "Fucking... wonderful." You reply. Truth be told, wonderful doesn't even compare. You feel like you're floating, like your soul has accented out of your body and is resting upon the clouds above, truly blissed out from the mind numbing orgasm that was long overdue. And for the first time in a long time, you feel beautiful.

-

[the1975attheirverybest]

Education

Lesson number #8 Love is complicated.

A/N: the finale is here!!! Thank you all so so so much for all the love that you have shown this series. Your support means the world to me 🩷🩷🩷🩷

Warnings: smut.

————

“Mia….” Matty whispered, regret already audible in his voice. He lifted his head up, slowly, peeling his body off of hers, the sweat that glued their skin together resisting the separation slightly.

Amelia studied his face anxiously. If you say ‘I love you’ to someone and they respond by saying your name, followed by an ominous pause, it’s probably not a good sign. She sat up, her heart pounding furiously in her chest. The excited smile disappeared from her face. “Oh god….” Her hands covered her eyes in embarrassment. “oh my god. I’m an idiot. I’m such a fuckin idiot.”

“Don’t say that, Mia-“

“No! Stop that. Stop calling me ‘Mia.’ Stop trying to flirt with me and reject me in the same breath. Just….stop it!” She surprised him with her sudden assertiveness. He began to shrink into himself, retreating slowly, getting off the bed and reaching for his underwear off the floor.

Amelia shook her head. “I- I can’t believe this. I love you, and you don’t love me-“

Matty rolled his eyes, “You don’t love me!” He scuffed, “it’s- it’s— uhhh- it’s the orgasm talking. You just think you love me. It’s the- the adrenalin and the dopamine and-“

“Oh, shut the fuck up, your dick isn’t THAT magical.”

“Wellll…” he titled his head, his eyebrows raised, as if to say “ but isn’t it?”

She threw a pillow at his face, which he dodged, but just barely. “get over yourself, Matty Healy.” She wrapped herself in the top-sheet, getting off the bed and collecting her own undergarments; “don’t tell me how I feel. you’re being such a man. You really wanna tell me about my own feelings?” She sneered.

“Don’t fuckin call me that!”

“What? A man?? News flash: you ARE one.”

“Yeah, but you don’t mean it like in a gendered way. You mean it in a derogatory way.” Matty buttoned up his jeans and began to loop his belt back in.

“Well, stop acting in a derogatory way.”

“That’s not really a thing. Grammatically I mean.”

She was speechless. She had just confessed her love to him and he wants to debate grammar rules? “Unbelievable,” she muttered, more to herself than to him. “Truly, unbelievable. I just- I told you I love you and you don’t love me back and now you’re going on about…Fuckin adjectives and adverbs.”

“I never said I don’t love you! Of course I love you, Amelia.”

“You- you love me?”

“you know I do.”

“Not in the right way though. Not the way that I love you.”

“How did this conversation turn towards me? It was supposed to be about you! You- you- don’t love me. It’s- it’s the whole inexperienced girl falls into bed with her slightly promiscuous (and ruggedly handsome) male best friend bullshit. It’s- it’s a cliche for a reason. You’re….just confused cuz you’re high on sex hormones and I-“

Amelia felt her eyes sting with tears. She sat back down on the bed, shaking her head, wondering where it all went wrong. “Are you calling me a cliche? Is that really what you think of me? Just some inexperienced doe eyed little thing you can take under your wing and show her the ropes?”

“That’s not what I said! I said the whole story- is a - a cliche. it’s just a good story. That’s all it really is. This isn’t a romance novel, Amelia. This isn’t the final chapter where- where all the stars just magically align and we ride off into the sunset together.”

“And I’m a bumbling idiot who thinks real life works just like romance novels, right?” She looked up at him, with Matty towering over her, his foot tapping against the floor anxiously. Her eyes wordlessly begged him to disagree. To fight - to say anything to her at all.

Matty shrugged, seemingly content. “You’re the one saying ‘I love you’ right after we had sex.”

“Gosh you’re such a dickhead….so, what am I to you, then? This whole thing- just sex?” Tears streamed down Amelia’s face.

“That’s not fair. We talked about this at the start. We agreed it was going to be just sex. What do you want me to say here?”

“So, all those times that- that you held me close….you kissed me and called me your love, told me I was perfect, said I was your good girl… it was all just sex to you?”

Matty shook his head slowly. “It’s….not that simple, Amelia.”

“To me it is.” She stood up as tall as she could, still feeling small and pathetic. “Look me in the eyes and tell me that you love me, too. Or get the fuck out of my house.”

“Amelia, wait- maybe we should talk about this another time. You know, once we’ve both had time to think -“

“Matty, get out.”

His eyes softened, he seemed to cower. “Amelia, let’s think this through-“

“Think? What is there to think about?! You either love me or you don’t. This isn’t one of your enduring existential questions.” She launched into him with her full strength, crying, and shoving his chest, “get out of my face!”

Soon, he was stumbling backwards out of the door, watching it slam shut in his face. “Amelia, don’t be insane! Open that door!” He banged on the door loudly and desperately. “Amelia, please!” He put his ear to the door “Amelia. Are you there? I’m shirtless over here. I’ve still gotta get the rest of my clothes.”

To his his delight, the door clicked open. But only briefly. She tossed him his leather jacket and his shoes. No shirt or socks. Defeated, he took what she gave him, began to walk away but the crying that he’d been repressing this whole time made him weak in the knees. He stumbled, leaning on the wall for support. He allowed himself only a few seconds of crying. Then, he wiped his face with a swift but harsh motion of his hand, making a deliberate effort to pause the trembling of his lower lip. It was better this way. it’s easier for her to let him go if she believed that he didn’t love her back.

***

“Well, I think we’ve given this track everything that we can for now.” George declared, sleep laced into his voice. “I say we go home. Have another go at it tomorrow.” He stretched his arms above his head, leaning into the chair with a sigh.

Ross shot him a look, nodding in Matty’s direction.

“It’s fine. I’ve got him.” Adam mumbled, standing up and walking towards Matty. “Matty, c’mon. That’s enough of that. We should- take the night. Or what’s left of it anyway. C’mon, mate.” Adam gave Matty’s shoulder a squeeze, hovering over to look into his eyes. “He’s shit- faced.” He reported to his friends, as if the empty bottles surrounding him weren’t enough of a clue.

Before he knew it, Matty was being squeezed from both sides of the couch my his friends all sitting by him.

“Bro, you can’t keep doing this.” Ross admonished, Adam and George sleepily nodding in agreement.

“I might just be tired, but, remind me again why you and Amelia can’t….just be together?” George asked, rubbing his eyes.

“Cuz I’m too…too…much for her.”

“Any idea what that means?” George whispered into Ross’s ear; Ross shrugged.

“It meanssss” Matty yelled out, “everything’s…too messy. I need to be good for her. I can’t do that right now. The- the tour. The whole slutty thing- the panicking on the inside- that’s not a good way to be in a relationship. It’s too fucked up.”

The boys nodded along, knowing exactly what he meant. While each incident, considered in isolation, seemed minor, a mere consequence of Matty being Matty, they knew him well enough to know that he was internally unraveling. The peace and order that he’d worked hard to established had been disrupted on tour and he’d found it all too easy to fall back on old habits. He overcompensated by projecting outwards what he lacked inwards. Because the boys knew him so well, they also knew that it would be pointless to step in before he asks them to. He has to be ready to make the change for it to happen. Perhaps, this was his cue to change.

“C’mon, Matty,” Ross tapped his friends knee as he stood up. “C’mon let’s take you home. You’ll feel better in the morning.”

***

“Was that George on the phone, just now?”Amelia watched Charli with hope in her eyes.

“It was. Just sorting out the setlist for the MSG afterparty.”

Amelia didn’t need to say much, what she’d been dying to ask was written all over her face.

“Let him go, Amelia.”

“I- just- I miss him. He and I were friends before anything else. I miss my friend.”

“You’ve got plenty of other friends, babe. I’m your friend. Aren’t I enough for you?” Charli hooked her arm into Amelia’s. “We should go out tonight. Get drunk and talk about this afterparty.”

***

Matty struggled to sit still in the uncomfortable, wooden restaurant chair. He folded his hands over his chest, but that only lasted a moment. Next, he tried tapping his fingers against the table, cracking his knuckles, resting his chin on the palm of his hand, even sitting on his hands to keep from fidgeting. Nothing he did could keep the distracted energy at bay. He wasn’t even listening to the conversations that people around him were having. He hoped no one was trying to include him in any of them. It took everything in him not to ask Hann if Amelia had said she’d come tonight or not. He figured it might be less embarrassing to ask Carly; he even led with “so how many people said they’d show up” before “oh and is Amelia not coming?”

To sound less desperate.

“Amelia’s away for the weekend.”

Carly studied his face carefully before speaking. “Her boyfriend’s taken her on a weekend away type of thing. His parents, umm, own this cottage out in the middle of - well, nowhere and- yeah. So she couldn’t come I’m afraid.”

Matty lost grip of his knife, dropping it against the plate with an ear-deafening clink. He gave Carly and apologetic smile, expending all his self control on making sure his face maintained the illusion of calm indifference. It felt like his heart was being carved out of his chest as he sat there, staring down at his food.

For the rest of the evening, Matty’s thoughts cycled in endless repetition. Amelia has a boyfriend. Who isn’t him. He loves her. But he let her go. What was she supposed to do? Form a shrine to him and abjure the company of men entirely? He had know right to have any feelings about any of this, yet, here he was, unable to shake the thought that Amelia has a boyfriend who isn’t himself and that he dug this grave and must lie in it, even though he loves her. Love, as he’s learned time and again, is never enough.

****

Matty stood in the corner of the room, the drink in his hand slowly absorbing the vibration of George’s loud afterparty playlist. He closed his eyes. Leaning his head back against the wall. The sound waves were now in his skull.

“Never thought I’d catch you at a party without someone’s tongue down your throat.”

Matty’s eyes shot open. His heart split in two. It was Amelia. He noticed, instantly, how beautiful she looked. “You made it!”

Amelia watched his exhausted, sleep deprived eyes light up with joy as he leaned forward to hug her.

“Of course, I made it.” She wrapped her arms around him. Matty caught a whiff of her perfume, and it unexpectedly hit him hard. It was his favorite. She knew that because he’d told her as much the first time that she’d put it on. He couldn’t help but wonder if she’d worn it, tonight, specifically for him.

“Well, I wasn’t sure if you would. After….how we left things.”

“C’mon, Matty. You know I’d never miss MSG.” She smiled, and suddenly, Matty was dead to the world. He only focus on her, his face involuntarily mirroring hers. “Besides, why should I punish George, Adam, and Ross for your misdeeds.”

The words stung but he did his best to take them in stride. “My…’misdeeds’?” He affected a lighthearted laugh. “Is that what we’re calling it?”

“I have a few more aggressive words in mind, but I think ‘misdeeds’ is alright.”

His eyes shot down to look at his feet, hoping the dim light of the party would hide the blushing of his cheeks. “Does- erm- does that mean that I’m still being punished?”

Amelia took a moment to respond, delighting in his anticipation, despite knowing that it was a tad cruel. “Nah,” she grinned. “I’m over it.”

“Over IT or over HIM?” Matty wanted to ask. “Good,” he breathed a sigh of relief, “good, cuz - erm… I’ve missed you. Don’t like not havin you around.”

His words made her happy, but what mattered most was finally being able to see him again. To be able to look into those beautiful brown eyes and feel the calm that only Matty’s presence could bring wash over her.

As the night went on, and they stood there, in their secluded corner of the room, Matty could not shake the guilt over his misdeeds. It took being in her company again for him to allow himself to feel everything. He had not only hurt her when he didn’t return her declaration of love, he’d also deprived both of them of each others friendship when he let her go on, for months, without reaching out. Every bone in his body ached for her. He wanted to hold her. Touch her. Feel her touch. Knowing that she stood right there, and not being able to bury himself in her was the loneliest he’d felt in a long time.

“You’re tired.” Amelia simply observed as Matty’s eyes fought to stay open.

“Mhm.” He gave her a faint smile. “Gone are the days when I’d be right in the middle of that dance floor.”

“Dancing to your own songs,” Amelia conjured up an old memory, making Matty laugh.

“Do you- wanna go somewhere quieter? With less dancing?” Matty spoke reluctantly, already wincing and hoping he hadn’t overdone it. Things still felt fragile. Rocky. He wouldn’t want to strain their friendship.

“Sure.”

“My - erm- hotel is…not too far from here.”

“Is it the same one as last year?”

“It is.”

“Oh, I hope they still have that chocolate dessert for room service.”

****

“You wanna watch a film, or something?” Matty handed her the plate of dessert, following it up with a fork.

“Sure, I saw that they have the option for Netflix actually.”

Matty plopped down onto the bed next to her, his own plate in hand.

“What’re you in the mood for?” Amelia turned to look at him.

Initially, Matty was lost in her eyes, with their faces inches apart, it was hard not to. But he smiled as soon as his eyes dropped to her lips.

“What? What what’s the matter? What is it?”

Matty giggled, “nothing’s the matter- erm…you’ve just got a little something on your face. Chocolate from the…”

She blushed, “oh god….”

“It’s alright. It’s only me, calm down. I’ll get it.”

He swiped his thumb across her lower lip, wiping away the remains of her decedent dessert.

As if acting on instinct, Amelia’s lips parted, slowly taking his thumb into her mouth, her lips closing around it and sucking.

“Amelia-“ the words vanished from his mind, blood rushing through his body. “We shouldn’t…” he couldn’t quite remember why, in that moment, but he didn’t want to risk their friendship again.

Slowly, looking directly into his eyes, Amelia’s lips let go of his finger, her wet, perfectly red lips leaving a string of spit between them.

She took his face in her hands, kissing him.

“Amelia- we can’t- you’ve got a boyfriend…i-“

“I broke up with him.” She mumbled, pulling him back in for a kiss.

“Oh,” he moaned into her mouth. “I’m so sorry,” he was breathless but smiling.

“Tell that to your face.” Her lips crashed into his again, fingers fumbling with the buttons of his shirt.

***

The night felt a hazy blur as Amelia laid her head on his naked chest. She knows she was on her knees at one point, hearing him whimper and attempt to tell her that he’d thought about her mouth countless times over the past few months. She swears, at some point, he had effortlessly pinned down her entire body with one arm, fucking into her until she couldn’t remember to say words anymore. None of that mattered, though. Because she was in heaven in that very moment. His big hand playing with her hair, caressing her cheek, and his lips occasionally reaching lower to place small kisses over her face and nose. She felt his heart pounding in his chest, still coming down for the high of it all. Or perhaps high on her in his arms. Neither one of them wanted this moment to end.

“S-so” Amelia cleared her throat, blushing slightly when she realized that it felt hoarse from screaming. “What now?” Her eyes shot up to look into his. Matty’s hand slowed its stroking of her hair, but it didn’t stop completely. “Are you- uhh- flying back out tomorrow?”

“Mhm.”

“And how long will you be gone for?”

“Six months.” Matty sighed audibly.

“Wow, six months. That’s a long time.”

“Yeah,” He nodded.

THE END

[luckyroll3]

Unexpected Chapter 4: Come Back to Earth

Unexpected Masterlist Previous Chapter

Chan

Changbin leaned against the cool, mint-green wall of the corridor, a grin spreading across his face as he watched Chan stride toward him. The playful glint in Changbin's eyes was unmistakable, even beneath the harsh fluorescent lights that lined the hallway.

"Hey, Chan," Changbin called out, his voice echoing slightly, "need some ice for that bruised ego?"

Chan's steps faltered for half a beat before he regained his composure, approaching his friend with an easy confidence that belied the sting of rejection still fresh in his mind. The corners of his lips twitched upward, betraying the amusement he found in Changbin's jest.

"Ha, very funny," Chan retorted, ruffling his tousled waves with a hand. "I'm just holding out for someone who can truly handle all this charm," he gestured to himself, a theatrical sweep of his arm inviting laughter.

Changbin chuckled, pushing away from the wall to fall into step beside Chan as they continued down the hallway. He nudged Chan's shoulder playfully, reveling in the camaraderie that always seemed to bubble to the surface, even when the ache of pride made it difficult to smile.

"Sure, sure," Changbin said, his tone teasing but not unkind. "Keep telling yourself that."

Inside, Chan wrestled with a twinge of uncertainty. Mia's disinterest had been unexpected—a deviation from the usual script—and her indifference somehow made her more intriguing, like a puzzle waiting to be solved, a challenge he had to win. He couldn't shake the image of her, the way she'd held his gaze confidently with unwavering poise.

Chan shoved the thoughts aside. Now wasn't the time to dwell on what-ifs and might-have-beens. There were fans waiting, a show to prepare for, and his focus needed to be on the present moment, the energy of the crowd, and the music that coursed through his veins.

"Maybe I’m waiting for the right person," Chan quipped back, his voice light but the hint of introspection lingering at the edge of his consciousness. 

"But the right person for what, exactly?" Changbin asked, giving Chan's back a playful smack. "You usually only have one thing on your mind, other than music: how to get your dick wet." 

“Heh, you’re not wrong,” Chan said with a soft chuckle. He knew Changbin was just ribbing him, but there was a kernel of truth in his words that Chan couldn't ignore. It wasn't like him to be so fixated on someone he hadn't even kissed yet. Usually, if one prospect didn't pan out, he'd move on to the next without a second thought. But Mia... she was different. “Could you imagine though… with someone like her?” Chan said, almost to himself. He could see it in his mind: Mia on top of him, riding him slowly, moaning his name while her curls bounced, her eyes locked onto his with that same intense focus she’d had during their brief conversation.

Chan let the fantasy play out for a moment longer than he should have. In his mind, he could feel her skin, hear her breathy moans, see the way her lips parted in pleasure. It was more than just a physical longing; it was the allure of her confidence, her maturity, her complete control. He wanted to be the one to make her lose that control, to see her come undone because of him.

He shook his head, trying to dislodge the vivid images. This was dangerous territory. Fantasizing was one thing, but the way he was obsessing over her after only 10 minutes was something else entirely. He needed to get his head back in the game, to focus on the here and now.

“She’d have to not reject you first…” Changbin laughed loudly and Chan couldn’t help but join in, even if the joke was at his expense. 

Their laughter mingled as they rounded the corner, the sound trailing behind them. They re-entered the space where the signings were taking place.

Chan approached the table with a practiced ease, his smile broadening as he met the sea of eager faces. The frenetic energy of the fans buzzed like electricity in the air, and he was their willing conductor. He leaned forward, accepting letters and gifts, his laughter genuine as he resumed his position, exchanging banter and smiles with each fan.

As he engaged in these exchanges, Chan's attention subtly flitted beyond the immediate crowd. His dark eyes danced over the heads of the fans, searching, always searching. Searching for someone to help him take the edge off after the show. There was an art to this—the slightest linger too long, a smile too directed, could set off a maelstrom of rumors and whispers. The time he spent trying to flirt with Mia was already pushing it. And he still came up short. Now he needed to find an alternative.

His gaze caught on a pair of eyes, a hint of mutual recognition sparking between them. He gave a coy half-smile before turning his focus back to the young man in front of him, who was nervously asking for a hug. With open arms, Chan obliged, and the fan's elated squeal was swallowed by the collective excitement.

"See something you like?" Changbin whispered, leaning in close enough so only Chan could hear.

"Maybe," Chan replied without missing a beat, passing another autographed poster to an outstretched hand.

Another quick scan, another connection made—a fleeting glance exchanged with someone whose smile hinted at the willingness for something more. It was all part of the game, a delicate dance of possibility and discretion.

"Next time, let's take a funny face selfie, okay?" Chan told a fan, his tone light-hearted. "Gotta keep things interesting!"

But beneath the surface, his mind was elsewhere, grappling with the enigma of Mia. She had slipped into his thoughts unbidden, her image casting a shadow over the flirtatious interludes. What was it about her that had thrown him off balance? Was it the challenge she presented, or something deeper, more substantial?

Chan, focus, he chided himself internally. There would be time later to ponder the complexities of attraction and connection. For now, he had a role to play—and he intended to play it well.

"Hyung," Changbin's voice cut through the chatter, a teasing lilt in his tone as he caught Chan's roving gaze. "Your eyes are practically on a world tour."

Chan flashed an impish grin, though his cheeks warmed under the scrutiny. "Just taking in the scenery," he quipped back, turning to hand out another glossy photo with his signature scrawled across it.

"Scenery with legs and tits and pretty smiles," Changbin chuckled, nudging Chan's side playfully. "Remember who you're here for, though. These fans are your real VIPs tonight."

"Wouldn't dream of forgetting them," Chan responded, his words genuine even as his eyes betrayed him, stealing another covert glance at the dispersing crowd. The image of Mia's nonchalant stance lingered like a stubborn melody in his head.

The line of fans began to dwindle, the air thick with the buzz of excited whispers and the occasional shriek as they recounted their meetings. Chan could feel the shift in energy, the prelude to the night's crescendo that was their performance.

"Alright," Chan announced, his voice carrying a note of finality as the last autograph was signed, "time to switch gears." He rose from his seat, stretching the stiffness from his limbs as he prepared for the next act.

****

In the hum of the dressing room, amid a scatter of costumes and the soft clink of accessories, Chan stood rooted in front of the mirror. He turned from his reflection, not really seeing the tousled waves of his hair or the sharp cut of his jawline. His fingers trailed absentmindedly through the strands, the motion betraying his inner distraction.

"Earth to Chan," Changbin said with a playful nudge, breaking Chan's reverie. "You're miles away. Don't tell me you're still hung up on that Mia chic?"

Chan flashed a quick, dimpled smile, an automatic response to mask his wandering thoughts. "Just thinking about the show," he lied smoothly.

"Right," Changbin drawled, skepticism lacing his tone. He leaned against the makeup table, arms crossed, his vibrant hair a stark contrast to the muted tones around them. "Because you always stare at your reflection like it's going to offer life's answers before a show."

"Maybe it does," Chan quipped back, the playfulness not quite reaching his eyes. 

"Look, if she's got you this twisted, why don't you just—"

"Can we drop it?" Chan interrupted, a little sharper than intended. He sighed, running a hand down his face. "Sorry, I just need to focus."

"Hey, no worries," Changbin replied, his voice softer now as he recognized Chan's struggle. "But for what it's worth, she didn't seem immune to your charms. Just, you know, immune to celebrity bs."

Chan let out a laugh despite himself, the sound more genuine this time. "There's a difference?"

"Massive," Changbin affirmed with a grin. "Chris will probably stand a better chance with a woman like her than Bang Chan.” Chan considered that for a moment. “Now come on, best leader. Let's get you into something that screams 'main event' and less 'mid-afternoon brooding.'"

As Chan reached for the outfit laid out for him, a sleek ensemble that would gleam under the stage lights, he couldn't help but wonder if Mia would be out there in the sea of faces. 

He slipped into his performance clothes, the fabric hugging his athletic frame and the top cropped, his signature style, to show off his defined abs. Chan looked in the mirror one last time—this time, seeing Bang Chan, a man ready to conquer the stage.

"Looking sharp," Changbin commented from across the room, his own outfit a blaze of color and confidence.

"Thanks," Chan replied, turning to face the mirror. The reflection that stared back at him was every inch the idol—the leader of Stray Kids—but tonight, his gaze held an unfamiliar fire. It wasn't just about the performance anymore; there was a personal quest lingering at the edges of his mind. Mia.

"Remember, keep the energy up. No distractions," Changbin reminded, his voice firm but not unkind.

"Distractions?" Chan echoed, allowing a half-grin. "You think I can't handle a little multitasking?"

"Chan, you know what I mean."

"Yup," Chan said, his voice a low promise as he adjusted his cuffs, the silver threads shimmering like stars against the dark fabric. With each tug, his thoughts drifted—Mia’s laughter, her indifference to his fame, the way she challenged him without even realizing it.

"Hey." Changbin snapped his fingers in front of Chan's face. "Earth to Channie. Showtime."

"Right," Chan breathed out, tearing his eyes away from his reflection.

"Let's kill this," Changbin said, bumping fists with him.

"Absolutely," Chan affirmed, the familiar thrill of anticipation coursing through him. He could almost taste the electric buzz of the audience, their cheers a siren call to the performer within.

As they approached the stage, the murmur of thousands swelled into a cacophony of adoration—a testament to the love and dedication of their fans. Chan's pulse matched the tempo of their excitement, every beat a reminder of why he was here.

"Ready?" Changbin asked, his eyes gleaming under the stage lights.

"More than ever," Chan responded, the image of Mia tucked safely in the back of his mind. Tonight, he'd pour his soul into the music, into the dance. And maybe, just maybe, when the lights dimmed and the last note faded, he’d find the courage to seek out the one who saw past the idol facade.

"Let’s fucking do this," Chan said. He and Changbin lined up with the other six. Together they stepped into the blaze of the spotlight, the cheers enveloping them like a wave. 

As the music started, Chan let go of everything except the moment, the movement, and the melody, knowing that this show would be one to remember—for more reasons than one.

A/N: Song: Back to Earth Artist: Steve Aoki featuring Fall Out Boy

[volturissideslut]

Out late at night the reader is on a bridge in town. A guy makes a pass at her and when she rejects him he gets upset and argues. She ends up being knocked over the edge of the bridge but a vampire happens to be nearby. Not only that but she's also his mate and he has to act fast in order to save her.(thinking he has to pull her out of the water and possibly do cpr up to you!) Please and thank you!! Not many people do the Volturi and I'd love to see this with them!

𝖁𝖔𝖑𝖙𝖚𝖗𝖎 𝖌𝖚𝖆𝖗𝖉

I'm not entirely sure who you wanted for this so i'm just going to do poly kings because that's what I'm in the mood for rn, strong mentions of violence towards the end (Caius threatens to skin someone alive)

One of the very few times all three kings are outside of the volturi castle at one time

And boy are they glad

so you're up on the bridge just as they're passing under

and they can hear the kerfuffle (vampire hearing and all)

and though the voice is filled with panic they cant help but follow the source

and by luck - though i'm not sure if its good or bad, all things considered- you are pushed off the bridge and fall into the stream right in front of them, practically falling perfectly into their lives#

almost

landing in the water with a crash, you realise you perhaps should have learned to swim all them years ago, condemning yourself as you flail about helplessly

Caius, always on high alert and guarded, is the first to react. He rushes into the water and pulls you out

All three of them ignore your profuse thanking for the time being as they fist check on your physical well-being

Marcus has his hands on your cheeks, allowing his eyes to roam over your face as he observes for injuries as Aro is simultaneously rubbing your back in a soothing manner and giving the rest of you a once over (Caius just mopes at the side, half proud he saved his mate and half grumpy that he looks like a drenched cat. Vampires aren't big fans of swimming, you know?)

Once they manage to assure themselves that you're safe enough to their liking they invite you to their castle house to freshen yourself up and take care of you

of course some denial happens as you've already bothered them so much with the whole saving your life ordeal and all

but they're insistent and you don't want to be rude and it's not like you have anywhere else to go considering the person who pushed you off was your brother that you live with

"come along, cara mia" Aro would say, leading you to their not-so-humble abode

its only five minutes later when they realise you were pushed off and i'm sure you can guess which king was filled with rage (hint: it's his default setting)

all that he can do for now is mutter under his breath "i'm going to fucking skin him alive for that" before continuing on with his mate and brothers

then the other two remember

but who can blame them for forgetting, you're just that mesmerising

don't worry, they'll have Demetri find him immediately

[fanmoose12]

What about levihan through the eyes of other parents at the school when they drop off their kids. Hange usually drops off the kids but was busy was work so Levi had to. Levi being nonchalant but a little worried that he might give off a bad impression which could affect their kid's life at daycare. Hange laughing and reporting the next day that most parents had a crush on Levi what with him being affectionate with their kid, preparing lunch and making sure their kid was cleaned. How he is now the husband the mothers want to have.

so i tweaked both prompts a bit but i hope you still enjoy what i came up with!!

Bad children do not exist. There are unruly ones, yes, undisciplined too, disobedient and rude, and some too angry for their own good, but there is not a single child that you cannot redeam with a bit of kindness, patience and understanding.

That's the first lesson that Petra learnt as she became a teacher at the preschool, and this belief remains unchallenged even after many years of work.

Although no one came quite as close to making her rethink it than an adorable ball of happiness with two pigtails who goes by the name Mia. 

The girl is an angel, there is no denying that, she’s kind and curious, and her mere presence fills the room with warmth, but god almighty, Petra definitely doesn’t envy the girl’s parents. Her energy appears to be unending and her curiosity seems to know no limits. Mia is interested in seemingly everything around her and anything that captures her attention must immediately be studied in great details - if she sees a peculiar tree, she has to climb it, if a rain filled the ground with poodles, she has to jump in each and every single one that happens on her way, if she notices a flower, she has to smell it, if it’s a berry, she absolutely must taste it. Petra can only guess how many stones the girl finds to be ‘cool’ she has stashed at her house. 

And the most unusual thing about Mia is how different she is from her father. Levi is probably the most reserved man Petra has ever seen. He is quiet, a man of so little words that it sometimes seems that he prefers to communicate with only nods, grunts and occasional one-syllable words. He is also surprisingly peculiar about cleanliness - always clean-shaven, wearing clothes that have not a single crease and never, ever a stain, he even smells like soap and washing powder. If it wasn’t for Mia’s features, her black hair and narrow, grey-blue eyes that she undoubtedly inherited from Levi, Petra would never guess that the man is her true father.  

So alike to one another, father and daughter act like direct opposites. Mia is loud, while her father is quiet, she is expressive, while he’s reserved, she's unbelievably messy even for a kid, with hands often covered in dirt and pants marked by caked mud, while his appearance remains impecable, no matter the circumstances, she is warm and kind, while he appears to be distant and cold. 

And yet, one has to be completely blind not to notice just how much Levi loves and treasures his child. He provides the girl with everything she can possibly need - he brings her extra clothes in case she needs to change, makes her lunch and her favorite juice when she doesn’t want to eat at school, fills her little frog-shaped backpack with toys, coloring books, pencils of all colors, a small shovel and a bucket so that the girl can dig up and collect all the cool stones that she comes across. 

So, it’s not at all surprising that Levi is impossibly popular with every mother at their school. Loving, gentle and attentive, he’s an example of a perfect father, and, of course, a no less perfect husband. Although he does wear a wedding ring, it doesn’t stop most women from desperately trying to get his attention. He gets surrounded by them every time he brings Mia over, and no matter how many of them he politely, but firmly rejects, his popularity not diminishes even a bit. It seems that his aloof, distant persona only adds to his charisma. 

Petra honestly feels bad for him, such constant and clearly unwanted attention must be quite grueling, but- even she can’t deny that she developed a sort of crush on the man, although she does her best to conceal it. She knows better than to chase a married man, after all. 

She does wonder, and not seldom, just what kind of a person Levi is married to. As far as Petra’s aware, no one at their school has ever seen his wife, Levi is the one, who always drops off Mia and he’s the one, who always takes her home. But it doesn’t seem that she’s completely absent from the family, she’s just a very busy person, or so Mia says. It’s obvious that the girl adores her mother no less than she adores her dad; when she feels like talking about her, there is no stopping her ramblings. If Mia is to be believed, her mother is the smartest person in this world, a scientist, who works tirelessly to make their lives so much better. And although Petra has never met Mia’s mother personally, she’s inclined to believe every word that the girl says about her. After all, the person, who managed to raise a child as precious as Mia and not only earn, but to also keep Levi’s love and devotion, must be nothing short of extraordinary. 

Most moms of the school would disagree, however. In their opinion, Mia’s mother is the most despicable person on this planet, a cruel, heartless person, who cares not for her child and even less for her husband, who surely is a gift from the heavens above. 

So, naturally, when the day comes that Mia is dropped off not by her father, but her mother, it causes quite an uproar amidst teachers and parents alike. 

Everyone at school turns speechless, when they see Mia hand in hand with a tall, slim brunette in glasses, who wears a grin nearly identical to the one that Mia always sports. 

“Good morning all of you, I’m Hange!!” Mia’s mother exclaims in a voice so cheerful and warm that it’s impossible for Petra not to answer the greeting with a smile of her own. “Since my precious husband feels a bit under the weather, I’ll be performing the role of a doting parent today! Mia,” Hange kneels before her daughter, pulling the kid for a swift forehead kiss. “Be good, don’t annoy your teachers too much, and… what dad usually says to you?” 

“Don’t get in trouble?” Mia offers with a delightful chuckle. 

“Mm, yes,” a thoughtful frown appears on Hange’s forehead, “I’m afraid I can’t in good conscience forbid you from doing that, so… don’t get into too much trouble, alright, pumpkin?” 

“I’ll try my best!” 

“Good,” Hange smiles and ruffles the girl’s hair. “Now, go, your friends are probably already waiting for you. I’ll take you home at… four o’clock, right?” she asks, causing a wave of disapproving murmurs all around the playground. 

“Dad usually takes me home at three,” Mia corrects with quiet amusement she definitely inherited from her father. “And…” she adds with a mischievous glint in her eyes that Petra now sees she got from her mother. “He also takes me out for ice-cream afterwards.” 

“Take you home at three, then treat you to ice-cream, got it. Anything else, my dear?” 

“Well, there is this game dad promised to buy for me, and also…”

Petra decides it’s time for interruption, gentle, albeit firm.

“Mia,” Petra approaches the girl with a slight frown on her face. “All the kids are already on the playground, why won’t you go and join them?”

Mia huffs, but takes the backpack out of her mom’s arms and, after waving at her one last time, hurries to the playground. 

Watching her kid, Hange emits a fond sigh, then turns to Petra. 

“I know that Levi doesn’t actually take her out for ice-cream every day,” she admits. “Says that sugar is bad for children and all that. But the kid should be pampered from time to time, don’t you think?”

“In reasonable amounts, yes,” Petra agrees. 

Hange lets out a short chuckle. “That's something me and my husband disagree on, usually, but… she seems happy enough, no?” 

“She does. Mia’s a nice kid. And already very smart.”

“And so cute!” Hange gushes, her eyes glinting. “She’s Levi’s little copy, isn’t she? Just without his ever present scowl.” 

“I… guess?” Petra murmurs, not quite sure if the answer was the expected of her or not. 

“Maybe, we’re not that bad at it, after all,” Hange whispers, seemingly to herself. She observes her daughter for another moment, then turns to Petra, blinding her with a radiant smile. “Thank you for looking after her. I know Mia isn’t the easiest one to handle.” 

The girl certainly isn’t, with her constant thirst for adventures and surprising stubbornness at times, but Petra doesn’t say it out loud. Hange appears to be a good mother, who cares for her daughter no less than her husband does, and Petra feels the need to ease her worries. 

“You raised her good,” she says, reaching out to squeeze Hange’s forearm reassuringly. “She’ll blow us all away one day, I have no doubt.” 

“Let’s hope she’ll do it in a metaphorical way, eh?” 

Petra joins Hange in her laughter. 

After spending a few more moments gazing at her kid, Hange leaves, and when she does - the hushed whispers around the playground stop being so hushed. Without even trying, Petra hears other parents discuss Hange, critic her admittedly a bit messy appearance and scorn at her forgetfulness and supposed carelessness. Although, after observing her interaction with her daughter, no one dares to claim that Hange is cruel and heartless and doesn’t care for her child. 

The talks about Mia’s mother don't die out for weeks to come, even as Levi returns to his duties, and they reach a crescendo, when one sunny day Mia arrives at school hand-in-hand with both of her parents and the biggest smile Petra has ever seen on her little cute face. 

Mia’s mom and dad drop her off, then stay a little to watch over their daughter, as the rest of the adults turn to watch over them. 

Petra is no exception, of course, she is no less curious to witness the relationship between Levi and Hange, and pretty quickly she comes to the conclusion that they share a bond only few are lucky to experience. The subtle, quiet affection with which Levi gazes at his wife is as surprising as it is beautiful, and the loud fondness that Hange expresses so freely towards her kid and husband is amusing and heartwarming. 

Levi’s popularity doesn’t decrease even after that, although invitations to coffee dates become nearly nonexistent. 

After all, there is no chance of winning over a man, who’s already dedicated his heart to another.

[shapeshiftinterest]

This Is Not The Princess You’re Looking For: bowser x luigi

one of bowser’s lines based on THIS

wanted a story where luigi’s in a dress but not as princess peach, kind of like in THIS doodle i drew

bowser comes to kidnap peach

she’s not here at the moment but why not talk to her cute brunet friend with the super short hair and pretty green dress?

story under the read more

This Is Not The Princess You’re Looking For (also on ao3)

‘There’s-a no way this is-a actually happening,’ Luigi thought to himself, dumbfounded. He watched Bowser flex an arm while continuing his exaggerated story about fighting Mario.

Mamma Mia this was happening.

A few minutes ago Luigi had been waiting for Peach in the Tea Room; she’d mentioned needing more time to prepare their snacks and Mario took the car because he forgot something at their house. Bowser had broken into the castle and landed right in front of Luigi.

It was a good thing the plumber was wearing one of his dresses today; it didn’t take long for the king to notice someone else was in the room after seeing a distinct lack of Peach. No, the real surprise came when said Koopa King, destroyer of castles, kidnapper of princesses, fighter of plumbers, looked the dress clad brother up and down...

...and started flirting with him.

Luigi was thankful he was wearing a mask because of a cold or Bowser would have noticed his jaw dropping. And the mustache, he guessed. Regardless, he could only mumble out that he was a foreign guest from far away when Bowser asked who he was.

‘Of course everyone knows who I am,’ he’d bragged, proudly puffing out his chest and thumping it with an equally large hand. Opening an eye to look down at the other, Bowser tilted his head to the side. He leaned down to take a white gloved hand in his and smirked, sharp teeth on display. ‘I’m a little upset Peachy girl never mentioned having such a cute friend though.’

A;LSKDFJ;ASD

Luigi coughed, choking on his own spit. Wow. Woooooow. He wasn’t sure if he was cringing or impressed; maybe both if he was being honest.

The green plumber waved the king’s concerned looks, stating that he just had a cold.

‘I could kiss you to make you feel better?’

That just started another, shorter coughing fit with Luigi rejecting the offer on the grounds that he didn’t want the king to catch his cold. Surprisingly, Bowser didn’t look like he was coming onto him with the suggestion. ‘Maybe it’s-a his solution whenever his kids were sick,‘ Luigi thought in between coughs.

‘Ahem, how do you know the princess again?’ Hopefully asking about Peach would be enough to buy some time before Mario came back.

Bowser lit up and immediately started talking about his (glorified) perspective of their adventures. He had to admit, it was interesting seeing them from a different point of view. Even if that point of view was peppered with a few cheesy pick up lines and saucy winks.

Speaking of...

Comfortable now that he knew Bowser wouldn’t try and incinerate him, Luigi yawned, stretching in his seat. He could hear the king’s speech falter before picking back up. Hmmm.

Focusing his attention back on the koopa, the green plumber adjusted his skirts and placed his elbow on the tea table, hand in cheek. He leaned forward towards the king and watched the taller man fumble his words when they made eye contact. Heh, he should probably stop before Bowser caught on.

“I hate to cut this short, Your Majesty, but I guess I’ll be going home now. Peach must’ve forgotten to tell me she was busy today.”

Luigi stood up and patted the imaginary dust off his skirts. “It was nice ‘meeting’ you though,” he said, smiling behind his mask.

“You can just call me ‘Bowser’ y��know. I could give you a ride home, easy peasy,” the king offered.

“Ha ha, no thank you. It wouldn’t do to go with a stranger now would it?” He winked. “I can just wait for my ride.”

Bowser blushed. “Right, right,” he coughed, awkwardly. Welp, if Peach wasn’t even here, he didn’t need to be either. Even if he wanted to keep talking to her friend in the pretty green dress. “Here’s my number, if you ever wanna be more than strangers.” Clawed hands pressed a business card with Bowser’s insignia on the front into his own and in a moment the king was gone, the sound of his clown car puttering off into the distance.

Luigi let out a breath. Oof, trying not to let his accent out was hard when you had a cold.

“Treats are ready~!” Peach sang out, gliding into the tea room; cart full of different pastries and teas pushed by Mario followed.

“Hey-a, bro! Did we-a miss anything?”

Luigi laughed and started telling them what happened.

BONUS:

bowser tells kamek what happened and kamek responds the way commander peepers did at the end of The Date from wander over yonder

hater: /talks about disguised sylvia and wander/

peepers, deadpan: you mean sylvia and wander in dresses

hater: ... WHAT?!?

[cosmicjoke]

Alright, chapter 215 of "Vinland Saga"!

And ohh boy, there's really no going back for Einar, now. He's finally, officially, killed someone, and I really do have to wonder what the ramifications of that is going to be. What's really interesting here is how Einar's first time killing someone mimics Thorfinn's first time from the anime. If I recall correctly, that scene wasn't originally included in the manga, but when Thorfinn kills for the first time as a young boy, he's at first stunned, and then this rage takes over him and he keeps repeatedly stabbing at his assailant. And we see that happen here with Einar, too, with him being at first shocked that he's killed someone, before just losing it and stabbing his attacker repeatedly, well after he's already dead. It's a trauma response, just like it was with Thorfinn. Only Einar is a grown man and this is his first time experiencing the horror of it all.

I've been wondering for a while what the effect of all of this was going to be on the relationship between Thorfinn and Einar, and it seems more and more to me that it's headed somewhere irreversible. Thorfinn's been MIA for a while now, and all this horrible killing has broken out, all this war, mostly being experienced by people who have never seen a battle field or had to take a life in order to save either their own or others. I don't think Einar is going to recover from this or ever really be the same, and I have a bad feeling that he may even grow to resent and hate Thorfinn (more than he already does), assuming he doesn't get killed in all this. Thorfinn isn't there, and he isn't able to fight, and as a result, it's everyone else who's sort of been forced into this confrontation, Einar most of all, who's own choice to stay and fight has led to this moment. I'd hate to see him blame Thorfinn for that, when again, it's Einar's own choice that led him here. He could have just chosen to flee, like Vargar originally suggested. Of course, you can't hold it too much against Einar, either, because all he's worked for and dreamed of is being threatened and stolen from him. There's really no right or wrong answer here. It isn't fair to just suggest Einar should be willing to give up everything just because someone decided to take it from him. That's what makes this story so complex and, ultimately, tragic. There's really no clear answer to any of it. But yeah, I'm just thinking that it's likely Einar will be irrevocably changed from this, and his relationship with Thorfinn forever altered, maybe even destroyed. We'll see, whenever we get Thorfinn back in the picture. But that really would be the ultimate tragic outcome of this, I think, and a perfect encapsulation of how war destroys. Thorfinn's first and best friend, the man who helped pull him out of despair and gave him a new direction and purpose outside of the violence that had, up to that point, defined his life, may end up turning on Thorfinn completely through the experience of war and violence. I think, in some ways, Einar already has turned on Thorfinn, but so fully rejecting Thorfinn's decision to retreat without fighting. How Thorfinn's own ideals and pacifism survives that kind of blow is a good question. I think he'll be devastated, if it turns out like I'm predicting, and realistically, he'll begin to again question the viability of his philosophy.

It seems, at least in part, that the tide has temporarily turned, too, with the Jomsvikings appearing and absolutely destroying the Lnu's fighters on the shore. How long the reprive will last for the Nords remains to be seen, though. Things are still dire, that's for sure.

I hope we get an update next chapter on Thorfinn. We have no idea currently what his condition is or if he's going to survive. I don't expect him to die, but his condition the last time we saw him was bad enough to at least assume he's got no way of fighting or defending anyone. What a disaster. I'm afraid of what his reaction is going to be when he finally sees what's happened.

[rachelfoleyisntdead]

didn't the connections just want Evie as a weapon/ tool to end all wars (I need to check that file in 7) and Miranda wanted a replacement for Eva hence why she decided to dig up her dead daughter and give them tissue samples (high key even if Miranda brought Eva back the poor kid would never ever be good enough Miranda has had 100 odd years of putting the child on a pedestal)

also Alan Droney (Director* douche who transported Evie with Mia... again the connections sent two 2 people to transport Evie without the treatments needed to keep her stable will that ever not be a problem for me and something i don't see other people mentioning at all?) was posing as a father figure to Evie who rejected her and Evie wanted Ethan to be daddy instead of Jack when he turned up which made Jack mad and Ethan has no idea what he's on about and of course rejects her as well

*in game they call him that and Mia is a caretaker

basically I hope Evie finds people in the conciousness of mold who know everything about her whilst not being directly affected by her violence and help her out (mold therapy group is a idea near and dear to my heart)

As far as the Connections go--tl;dr i went and did some research which is why this took a bit to answer, but yeah, it looks like the Connections DID always plan to use Evie... but Miranda didn't just provide mold, she also provided DNA of her daughter for use in Evie's creation. This, combined with the fact that rose is a 'perfect Eveline' and Eveline's name being so close to Miranda's daughter (Eva) are contet clues that Miranda wanted Eveline made so she could do what she tried with rose. Meaning Eveline's original 'true' purpose was to become Miranda's daughter, but she was 'imperfect'. Because of the emphasis on rose being 'perfect' and Eveline being 'imperfect', I think you make a great point about how ultimately, Eva probably wouldn't have been good enough. None of the 4 Lords were, despite all their power, Miranda still made them feel like they weren't enough to please her.

(side note: this whole 'Miranda was working with Connections!!!' feels very like it was decided after the fact/making it up as they go along. But this interpretation makes it make more sense, at least to me.)

iirc (and someone can feel free to correct me), Mia and her partner were posing as Mia's parents specifically to avoid arousing suspicion when they were transporting her. They weren't intended to be actual parental figures to her. But she was a heavily sheltered child, likely lonely, so she wasn't going to understand it was fake.

We know Evie latched onto Mia as a mother figure, I don't know if she latched onto the guy as a father figure, though. She killed that guy because he essentially rejected her, yeah. If she did see him as a father figure, it was not for very long and it was not to the extent she latched onto Mia (which is intentional--you're not really supposed to care about that guy, so Evie likely didn't either). She also let Ethan 'defy' her much longer than she did Alan.

Evie did use Mia to lure Ethan, though. re7 is explicit about that, bc when Mia is lucid, she tells Ethan she didn't send him the video--meaning Evie was controlling her. Evie wanted Ethan as a father figure because her 'mom' should be married to her 'dad'. I don't think she ever saw Jack as a father figure, because he had adult children her 'mother's age, and because those children (Lucas and Zoe) would likely have been rivals for his love. It's easier for her to play house with Mithan as her parents, and the Bakers as extended family.

Infected!Jack was jealous, yeah, because Ethan was essentially going to replace him as the male head of the family, but Infected!Jack is not the real Jack. Those feelings and actions came from the false family hierarchy that Eveline set up, in which she is both the head of the family and the treasured only grand-child (which is why her rapid aging works as such a good twist; a lot of southern families have an old matriarch like that, and many of them also have a darling granddaughter who is adored).

tbh I don't really care what happens to Evie in the mold matrix, it's just upsetting to me that people call a child irredeemable and deserving of death. Like... they can't see Eveline as the tragedy she is. But Lady D and Heisenberg get praised to high heaven.

[qutemag]

The only problem with Babylon is Chazelle directed La La Land first -- an essay on La La Land and Babylon

by Benjamin Harkin

(Spoilers for both movies.)

Damien Chazelle is one of the most talented auteurs working today in Hollywood, and his two epics La La Land and Babylon are inverse meta mirrors Hollywood sees itself in and Chazelle interrogates the nature of the industry with a beautiful sense of composition, acting, scripting, and music. He recalls the classic Golden Ages where Hollywood is wistfully looked back on and punctures these periods where other directors of similar stature at their time in their careers tried and failed. Babylon should have been THE movie of 2022 into 2023, sabotaged only by a botched ad campaign and a sense that it wasn't another uplifting light movie like La La Land that everyone expected.

Take La La Land. Although set in modern day, the film is obviously a pastiche and ode to the cheerfully innocent and brightly coloured world of the 50s and 60s spate of Hollywood big budget musicals about young love and finally making it in the big town, following your dreams and being rejected right up until you find yourself, the person you're meant to be with, and then seeing everything fall into place with your passions. Sebastian (Ryan Gosling) is a talented jazz piano player who is sick of marching to other people's drums. He diverts from the set list of his gig at a bar to play a melancholy but more tuneful song, leading to JK Simmons giving him the sack for his repeated impertinence, proving to be a pivotal moment when Mia (Emma Stone), a struggling up and coming actress who's spritely but can't quite land roles, bumps into him and looks to compliment him on the sheer artistry and vulnerability but he pushes past her, a Hollywood moment of meet cute that's tailor made to elicit a sweet moment. Their first date isn't told in flirty dialogue and smiles like a Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan rom-com, but purely in a song and tap dance number that channels Sinatra and Singin' in the Rain (1952), not as overdone and rigidly artificial as (500) Days of Summer's memorable break out of song but more a heartfelt melding of two people, realising they compliment each other against a scenic sunset perfectly.

The film effortlessly transitions in and out of song and dance numbers, each telegraphing where the two main characters are at in their lives, playing out character building scenes with music rather than words. Unlike Scorsese's flaming wreck of a passion project New York, New York (1977) that endeavoured to do the same sort of thing but got the cardinal rule of Hollywood musicals wrong: they can't be a downer. Chazelle covers the same material but ditches the abusive relationship angle that mucked up Scorsese's go for having between the musical numbers a wonderfully blossoming young love. This is a master at his craft firing on all cylinders. The party scene where she runs into him again is hilariously goofy, thoughtfully playful, and the camera tracks across everything going on and Mia's POV with a zest I've not seen from any other director. He gives the filmic electricity to let Emma Stone's bouncy acting and Ryan Gosling's smoldering nervous hot guy energy soar. Chazelle lets the camera roam free over his set pieces and its such an exhilaratingly unrestrained feeling that you can't help but be swept along.

Sebastian sells Mia on picking yourself up and following your dreams, and of course after he unloads on his love of jazz in a bar (winning her over on the genre as well) she of course starts getting call backs on her auditions. He's so thrilled after the date he wanders ponderingly along a beachside walkway and where any other two-bit director would have a silent scene of the waves methodically lapping and the protagonist deep in thought, Chazelle has Gosling whistle and play with a hat he spies on the ground, singing softly "city of stars, are you shining just for me?" in the fact he can't believe his luck, before taking the wife of an old couple passing by for a few dancing spins before moving on, the trace of a song done in what's both an understated way and faithful to the mood of that oft reused trope across romance movies of a protagonist staring into a public bench in contemplation of what could be.

Mia still flubs a few auditions but ducks out of some boring career networking dinner to find the one person she connects with and show him her passion -- cinema. They reunite when Sebastian thinks he's been stood up and goes into the movie anyway, and she walks in front of the screen and almost beckons him to join her in the movie onscreen as she walks to his seat and it moves swiftly to that classic shot of their fingers sliding together over their thighs, before the projector cutely goes on the fritz and they decide instead to reenact the scene portrayed in the movie they were just seeing and visit the observatory, sparks depicted as flying literally of a shot of a tesla coil shooting them out. They consummate their love in dancing into the stars of the observatory, the film breaking all reality with them floating up into the galaxy of the space observatory ceiling and they dance on the Milky Way briefly before coming back to the real, sitting in chairs making out.

The film then zips along all the familiar beats of these young love stories, with an extended cameo by John Legend to ruminate on the state of modern jazz thrown in for good measure. Sebastian and Mia start a scene bathed in bisexual lighting for no other reason than Chazelle is on his victory lap, then sit at a piano in Sebastian's cramped apartment and sing through the relationship.

Sebastian's music career goes on the up, his lame two key piano accompaniment for the big act to make a living no longer some hokey party band hire but John Legend's sold out rock band performances, the spotlight starting with him, then another on Mia so he can wink at her sitting in the audience that he's made it.

Cut to the fall season in Mia feeling left out with his career obligations. He makes an effort to win her over with an intimate dinner date but it proves a failure, Mia already is emotionally checked out underneath the familiar banter. The dinner becomes an uncomfortable truth when she confronts him on the fact he's in a steady ridiculously successful band career doing shit two key piano accompaniments for a rockstar. No better than when he was doing the trashy electronic keyboard at the party. Mia, despite all her career failings, remains true to her passion and Sebastian trades in his dream of owning a jazz club to follow the money. The dinner unceremoniously fails when Sebastian breaks any sense of politeness to take a shot at both Mia's failures in securing any acting roles and his belief rigidly pursuing her dreams has blinkered her to any chance at success, saying that she only liked him when he was down and out like her.

The movie goes the way you expect. At a photo shoot where Sebastian is expected to embrace his inner hated rockstar persona when asked to play something for a little flavour, he plays that same melancholy tune that got him booted from the jazz bar gig. He tries and tries to get Mia back but she's moved on.

The film balances an innocent sense of naivety with a bittersweet reverance as La La Land moves effortlessly to the climax of their time together. The film transcends reality once again and ends in a beautiful montage curving backwards on itself, running back all the memorable points of their relationship that could've gone wonderfully different with a swelling medley of song and dance set pieces. Their romance seen one final time through Hollywood's saccharine musical pomp. One final waltz and encore. A thoroughly Hollywood ending. The film of course was the talk of 2016 and an awards darling. Oscar bait at its finest.

Babylon is a similar structure and filmic style, only transplanted onto a film so radically different in tone, character, and outlook that you'd think someone attempted to recreate La La Land in hell and all they had was the putrid and terrifying scenes lying around them. The film is a three hour bravura tour de force of disgust, near constant nods to abuse and exploitation in Hollywood, and a thesis that with the transition from the silent era to sound, practically every actor, filmmaker, and crew member, was hung out to dry as Hollywood reinvented itself for new technology, and yet Babylon is still somehow also a celebration of cinema like La La Land if only by showing just how much blood, sweat and tears goes on behind the camera of that perfect shot. It's Fellini's 8½ with arthouse sensibilities substituted for too much cocaine and elephant scat play. In the film production moments you can see Chazelle like Fellini getting out his frustrations and reaching catharsis in throwing the curtain back on the downsides of filmmaking.

The film opens with an elephant shitting onto the camera, a too long and too uncomfortable moment almost telling the audience to abandon hope and turn this off barely minutes in. This moves to an utterly depraved Hollywood orgy of all kinds of unspeakable acts, some based in real stories of scandal. Fatty Arbuckle, the first in a long line of Hollywood players revealed to be utterly depraved people, has his scandal depicted here of what could've been some sort of sexual assault or a lethal case of peritonitis, the story nobody could quite figure (still opinion is firmly divided on what transpired, even now), despite multiple trials that resulted in a woman dying in a trashed hotel room, and his career the first in the industry to have to be properly amputated over alleged sexual misconduct, unable to make the comeback only because the whole incident ended up a gift to fatphobia and a fateful heart attack the day Hollywood signed him another contract. Babylon depicts this as her peeing on him and then OD'ing and he left bawling in the aftermath shaking her limp body like a toddler having had his toy broken from smashing it too hard against the ground. The executives stand over the dead woman and Fatty's pathetic display and decide to move the real life elephant (yes, the one who shat on you) crashing the party up from 4am to 2am to distract while they wheel out the corpse.

Oh there's still a jazz band in this one all right (not a Chazelle film if there's no jazz), playing in the middle of the debauched proceedings all African-Americans, seemingly the only ones there among a sea of white writhing bodies, playing some twisted version of the last salute to decency. Threesomes, foursomes, fivesomes, and the masses between people writhing in ungodly dance, mountains of cocaine for the people who start to lag, some guy bemoaning the fact he put an erratic chicken on too much coke and it has to be rescued, offhand mentions of pedophilia going on upstairs. Despite being about 100 years ago, not much has changed in Hollywood's dark corners.

Margot Robbie arrives as perhaps Emma Stone's shadow from the underworld, the complete loss of innocence after Mia actually having gotten parts and seen the inside of the industry rather than turned away every audition, abused and traumatised already so much before the movie begun that she enters the fray fooling the bouncer with a ridiculous stage name Nellie LaRoy as a vain and shallow attention-seeking hanger on, but her looks and scant dress, barely rags, wins over the rest as the life of the party, and her dream of living whatever heights of this twisted Hollywood life are realised on that fateful night. She dances with the best of them, spinning out of control only to prostrate herself and run her hand along the filthy floor like it was a plush couch for a moment before jumping back up to toss her cigarette and continue the dance. Her turn at stardom only comes because an executive sees her dancing on a table in his eyeline in the middle of dealing with corpse disposal and needs to give a director a hot woman to trial for their titillating silent film the next day.

Jack Conrad (Brad Pitt) turns up in a suit as the classic A-lister, the Humphrey Bogart, frequent relationship troubles in lieu of his deep insecurities over career and inability to settle in tow. He is too good to get involved in anything overtly morally reprehensible but he still leaves every woman unhappy in marriage. He orders far too many bottles of alcohol in watching the nightmare to wash out his thoughts on the latest impending divorce.

The film centres on Manny (Diego Calva), a Mexican immigrant who works as a low rung assistant at this party, somehow both in the background and involved in making calls the executives don't want to dirty their hands doing. He weaves in and out of the party as our vehicle into the picture, his shock long left for a determination to get the job done well and a possible promotion into a start in Hollywood. He consults the executive after suggesting to him the elephant to distract from the unsightly body, and the party wound down to strewn party streamers and the odd hungover person stumbling around, to suggest an aspiration to the Hollywood ladder and is instantly cut off and shot down: "You are where you belong."

This sets the stage for the next three hours. Manny falls in love with Nellie's wild child affect and is left in the dust for her celebrity-chasing, the first moment of many. He helps a thoroughly drunk Jack Conrad back to his mansion, where Jack pontificates a bit incoherently on the direction of Hollywood to an opera record he puts on before falling off his balcony, hitting a tiled roof on the way to splash in his pool face down, getting out with a flourish like his absolutely hammered behaviour was another one of his great performances.

Then comes arguably the best set piece in the film. Babylon splits into an utterly inspired montage of insanity in film production. Underpaid and unsafe crew members assemble en masse to chase Manny around a paddock after he drives a still deeply hungover Conrad to set. Producers throw Manny as a sacrificial lamb to the workers in their unwillingness to negotiate. The filmmakers talk over a shot with their star while he's chased by a giant crowd of angry labourers far below in the background.

Nellie LaRoy, having been picked at random, gets her dreams come true as a woman director sighs that she doesn't have the big tits they wanted but she'll have to do. Chazelle casted his wife Olivia Hamilton as the director and she does what's one of the best performances in the film, a woman director making her way in an industry of sleazy men, drama queens and kings, and so many flaming out alcoholics, dead focused on nothing but getting the movie in the can, but with enough funny hand gestures and eyebrow cocks to make the moments that much more farcical. Manny winds up having to be a director assistant to an absolute nutcase of an 'eccentric director', staging epic battle scenes where people are both fake and really are being killed in pursuit of the shot. They stand over a flag bearer who died by being run through by a flag, and make up the excuse on the fly he somehow did it himself and also he was probably going to die anyway. The montage contrasts with Nellie LaRoy getting her chance in a bar scene, which she dutifully whores her body in a drunk sweaty manic ballet of flashing and groping to all the men for the perverted pleasure of the camera capturing the moment. The woman director watches and is suitably impressed, like her, for Nellie's willingness to absolutely give herself up for the movie. Although of course there's a visible boner in an extra's pants that ruins the take. On top of this, Chazelle contrasts with Jack Conrad dictating a rewrite of his scene, doing his whoring offscreen, riffing for dirtier versions of famous lines in cinema that go beyond the period (this is set in the mid 20s) -- "And then he says hasta la vista, motherfucker." "And then he says frankly Scarlett, you're a cunt." And ending each with a "Type it!"

All this is hung on a narrative of Manny rushing to town to grab a replacement camera before the camera hire store closes, as the horses in the battle scene trampled over the ten the production had. He's told it'll be a half hour wait that becomes an hour. He gets back with whatever type of lens they had spare and Jack Conrad manages to stumble out his tent for the single most perfect shot of a romantic embrace at sunset, all the chaos and destruction for this one minute of film. The score in all these scenes is this bizarre riff on La La Land's music, a musical narration technique to have a throughline in these moments, a cacophony of drums and saxophone that keep the pace brisk and at tempo. Chazelle's work is frenetic filmmaking that's perfectly controlled.

The rest of the film is similar scenes of chaos in filmmaking and the industry. And nearly all the characters are composites or loose adaptations of real Hollywood figures of the time. Jack Conrad can't make the leap from silent to talking films and blames the one movie critic who used to flatter him. Nellie projectile vomiting at an upper class party with Hollywood elites where she's supposed to be upping her career profile. There's a subplot of the first major Asian-American actress in Hollywood Lady Fay Zhu (Li Jun Li) (based on real life counterpart Nancy Kwan of The World of Suzie Wong (1960) fame, a film exemplifying the issues), someone of grace and considered thought, her secret pleasure being the unspeakable lesbianism of the time, only to also be debased and wrote off constantly as 'the exotic Oriental' stereotype that dogged representation in Hollywood until only recently. Manny finally getting a chance at director, only to fuck up by trying to cast a by this time well off the rails coke fiend Nellie, and then debasing the African-American jazz lead Sidney (Jovan Adepo) by making him do the performance in caricature, blackface because the lights shining on him make his skin lighter than his colleagues, and they need the American South demographics to make profit so there has to be racism. A Mexican immigrant selling out another person of colour in order to make it.

And yet, beneath all the chaos and exploitation and Hollywood fucking over everyone, the film finishes with Manny years later coming back and seeing his beloved industry onscreen. Babylon ends with a romp through the history of film and Manny watching with tears flowing, a triumphant celebration of cinema magic set to a brilliant image of film being developed in the chemicals as all the noted movie scenes interplay across history. Babylon reveals itself as a tortured love letter to film, and at the same time the opposite message of La La Land, a thoroughly deranged epitaph to the fact Hollywood has no soul, and all those people who were hurt in bringing you that cinematic experience.

Babylon of course came out and bombed. The biggest flop of 2022. The trailer for the film sells you on fun parties and a deliciously gaudy time when the film goes out of its way to be uncomfortable in amidst the farcical comedy. Nobody who turned out for Margot Robbie in Barbie will want to tune in for her unhinged performance here.

The biggest problem though is unfortunately just which movie came first. Expectations were set by La La Land, and then torn apart by Babylon. Chazelle made a terrible calculation that the dark of Babylon would be a fitting follow up to one of the biggest and most upbeat Oscar darlings of the past decade. People went into Babylon expecting La La Land, and while they indeed got the most perfect companion piece, unfortunately people don't want to look at those dark corners Chazelle spotlighted. They wanted La La Land 2, and that closed mindedness and conservative nature of the mainstream moviegoing public is a shame. I can understand people not having the stomach for the film, but I thought there would be a few more interested.

(This actually isn't the first 8 minutes, but this is probably the most illustrative section of the film for this essay.)

La La Land is currently streaming on Stan.

Babylon is currently streaming on Paramount+.

[piracytheorist]

What is a common fandom opinion that everyone is wrong about?

I'm taking this back to Once Upon a Time, and it's the idea that Killian's journey was to go back to his "Lieutenant Jones" persona. Only I am RightTM of course, and my RightTM opinion is that Lieutenant Jones was even less of himself than Captain Hook was. Killian is, at his core, Chaotic. He doubts and rejects authority, he acts on his own moral code (whether that's fucked up or a little more sane) and he hates being controlled and told what to do. Lieutenant Jones was in the Navy, and you cannot survive in such a place if you're not full-on Lawful and willing to abide by someone else's rules.

So there were a lot of people who saw Lieutenant Jones and went like "This is what Killian needs to return to" and it's the absolute wrong way to interpret his character. Killian only joined the Navy because Liam wanted to join, and because Killian still (and always) idolized him and thought that Liam is always right and he should follow what Liam does. But it's not how Killian works as a person. People only think he should have gone back to that was because Lieutenant Jones was GoodTM, and the only way for Killian to be redeemed and become a good person was by adapting back into a place that went directly against his actual beliefs and stances.

--

Wait, I thought of another fandom opinion as well, and it's about Mia Winters from Resident Evil 7 and 8. So much of the fandom seems to have the interpretation that we're meant to hate her, and I cannot begin to tell you how wrong that feels. I don't think we're meant to fully forgive her, of course, but the narrative gives us enough material to show that Mia really, honestly cared for Ethan and yet the "Mia Winters bashing" tag is a common tag on ao3, but I'm not surprised that a video game fandom is overflowing with misogyny. Because, especially seeing how easily people forgive Heisenberg for his far more atrocious behaviour against Ethan, not giving a female character the benefit of the doubt, completely disregarding the idea of Author's Intent and only basing ones' opinion on her on their biases can also be traced to misogyny, I am sorry to tell you :)

So yeah. It's mostly because it's obvious people allow their biases to influence their opinion on Mia and don't take Author's Intent into consideration like, why were we given this and that scene? What is the narrative meaning of the two different endings in Resident Evil 7? How does Ethan react to Miranda's words while she poses as Mia? How does Chris Redfield, beloved character of the franchise, react to Mia's outbursts at the end of Resident Evil 8? Some people just don't give a fuck about any of that and go like "She's not sexy, mysterious or OP enough so into the trash she goes". And I am not even a Mia fan. It's just very obvious how biased people are about her.

Which is not a bad thing... if you recognize that. It's okay to have biases and for some characters to hit you in a very very bad way. The problem is most people don't realize that and they make going through the "Ethan Winters" tag here a nightmare until you block the right people.

🔥 choose violence ask game 🔥