#put this on main and my brain disagreed so its here

[morelikeravenbore]

Can I Make It Any More Obvious? — part one.

Sk8erboi!Sebastian meets Ballerina!Aurélie

(Or: my slow descent into madness via a sk8er boi x notebook crackfic au.)

Inspired by the girlies in the writing server, thanks for the sk8er boi brain rot. I don't know why I'm writing this and I have absolutely NO IDEA where it's heading.

Content: MODERN AU. 🛹 It's 2002 and Sk8er Boi is rockin' up MTV. 🛹 Sebastian is an idiot (affectionate). 🛹 Sebastian thinks he's good at skateboarding but is secretly a nerd. 🛹 Basically Canon!Sebastian with a skateboard. 🛹 Yes I squeezed in a reference to my favourite Notebook scene. 🛹 Yes there will be more Notebook references. 🛹 Part two when? Who knows. 🤙🤙🤙

Warnings: SFW. Non graphic mentions of blood/head wound.

Word count: 2.6k

👉 PART TWO HERE.

[read on wattpad]

Wizarding folk, among which Sebastian was usually proud to include himself, had a distinct fondness for cobblestones. Great for aesthetics, sure: nothing screamed eccentric magical village quite like alarmingly uneven roads — but what worked for aesthetics was absolutely shite for skateboarding.

That's right. Skateboarding.

Luckily, Sebastian was a wizard — and quite a gifted one at that — and though his professors from his Hogwarts days would likely argue that inventing a hovering charm specifically to ride a Muggle skateboard over otherwise un-skateable terrain was a waste of his talents, he was inclined to disagree — especially now, as he hurtled down the main street of Hogsmeade, dodging carts, villagers and stray cats at speeds that rivalled the newest model of the Firebolt.

No, far from a waste of time, this was undoubtedly the most impressive use of his magical prowess since he'd successfully cast the Torture Curse on the first go.

That is until a Thestral-drawn carriage pulled out right in front of him.

‘Fuck —!’

For all the time and effort he'd put into developing his hovering charm, he'd neglected to install an emergency braking system.

Swerving hard to avoid collision, he heel-flipped upwards, accidentally performed his signature mid-air 360 Great-Merlin Kickflip over the top of the carriage, then rail-flipped off a lamppost before launching skyward again.

Choosing to ignore the fact that he'd just performed the best tricks of his life while careening uncontrollably through the air, Sebastian let out a great ‘Yeeeeew!’ of triumph — but the sheer force of his excitement threw him sharply off balance. Wobbling precariously atop the board, arms flapping like an overfed Diricaw trying to outrun a diet plan, he tried to regain control —

But it was no use.

He hit the ground, whacked his head on something hard — a bloody cobblestone, probably — and rolled neatly across the way before the great double doors of the Three Broomsticks finally ended his epic wipeout.

Groaning miserably, he rolled onto his back to find two blurry faces peering down at him with mirrored expressions of shock.

‘Are you alright?’ they asked in perfect unison.

Blinking rapidly, Sebastian's entire world flipped on its axis (er, again) as the face of the prettiest girl he'd ever seen came into stunning, albeit upside-down relief: backlit by the summer sun, a halo of auburn hair framed a pair of eyes so piercingly blue that he was sure they saw into his soul.

Fuck, he was dead, wasn't he? He was dead and this vision of beauty above him was an angel come to take him away to — ah, fuck fuck fuck! Death by malfunctioning magical skateboard was not how he'd planned to go out!

He scrambled gracelessly to his feet.

‘Shit,’ he replied, flicking his swishy hair out of his eyes. ‘I mean — fuck. Hello — shit, you're pretty.’

Taken aback, the girl's orphic eyes widened in alarm.

‘Did you — are you hurt?’

Sebastian swayed on the spot. ‘Who, me?’ He tried to chuckle, but nonchalance was difficult with a head wound. ‘Yeah, I'm fiiiine — completely, totally fine… Never been better, actually. Feel amazing. Best ride of my life.’

Her gaze lingered on his forehead. ‘You're bleeding…’

‘Am I?’ He definitely was — he could feel it. ‘S'alright, happens all the —’

A very disorienting moment later, Sebastian found himself in the back room of the Three Broomsticks with a cold rag pressed to his head and a very irate barkeeper clicking her tongue in disapproval.

‘Skateboarding!’ Sirona tutted. ‘Right through the middle of Hogsmeade! What were you thinking?’

But Sebastian wasn't thinking. At least, not about anything but startling blue eyes.

‘Wasn't,’ he muttered thickly. ‘Where girl?’

He stood up; Sirona shoved him back down.

‘Sebastian, you've got a bloody great gaping wound on your head!’ she scolded, holding him down by the shoulders. ‘I've called for the Healer —’

‘Fuck the Healer.’ He stood up again, swiping his bloody forehead with the back of his hand. Just a scratch. He'd be fine.

‘Oh for the love of —’ Catching him by the sleeve before he could stumble for the exit, Sirona levelled him a look she usually reserved for unruly patrons who’d indulged in too much firewhisky. ‘The girl who brought you here — while you were semi-conscious and incoherent, might I add — is eating lunch in the corner booth. But behave yourself, will you?’ she called after him as he wrenched out of her grip. ‘She's French!’

Sebastian liked Sirona — really, he did; she was the only villager who let him practise his kickflips out the back of the Three Broomies without calling the authorities — but right now he'd push her off a cliff if she got in the way of him and the girl.

Still unsteady on his feet, he barrelled into the tavern proper, where the lunch hour was in full swing and the smell of ale and shepherd's pie made his head spin. He made for the corner booth, flattening his hair with his hands and praying to Merlin above that he didn't look as fucked up as he felt — but his heart dropped when he found the booth occupied not by a dainty little redhead girl but by a group of menacing-looking warlocks tucking into a pig's head for lunch.

Shit.

He spun around. Maybe it was the concussion speaking, but he had the most awful, gut-wrenching feeling that if he never saw her again, terrible things would happen.

He had to see her again.

Scanning the crowd with increasing desperation, he was just about to accost Sirona for more details when he caught a flash of long, red hair slipping through the exit. He dashed across the room, chasing that swishy hair the way a bull charges after a Matador.

‘Hey!’ he called out, skidding through the doorway and into the sunlit street beyond. ‘Hey, wait!’

Frantic, he pushed through a group of disgruntled old ladies, jumped over a very startled cat and almost lost his footing again as he hurtled down the road, this time driven not by magically charmed skateboard but sheer desperation.

‘Hi,’ he panted when he finally caught up to her.

The girl cast him a sideways glance.

‘Oh, look,’ she said with a melodic French accent, ‘it's my new husband.’

Sebastian stumbled over another cobblestone.

‘I — what?’

‘You must've hit your head quite hard indeed if you don't remember professing marriage to a complete stranger.’

He stopped dead in his tracks. Was she joking?

‘I didn't,’ he said, aghast.

‘You did,’ she returned, flashing a wry grin over her shoulder as she walked on.

He hurried after her. ‘Fuck, I'm — I'm sorry, I hit my head really hard.’

‘Oh, so you're revoking your marriage proposal?’

‘No —! I mean, yes, but — I don't even know your name.’

‘Hmm.’ She stopped to peer interestedly at the window display of Tomes and Scrolls. ‘Makes our engagement a bit awkward, no?’

Sebastian could only gape wordlessly as she drifted gracefully into the bookstore.

‘Hang on.’ He dumped his board at the door and lumbered in after her. ‘You said yes?’

The girl pressed her lips together in suppressed amusement. ‘I said I'd think about it. – Bonjour!’ she added, greeting Mr Brown so sweetly that the shopkeeper's usually surly countenance brightened like he'd swallowed his sun. Sebastian wondered if he, too, looked equally as ridiculous as he followed her down the nearest aisle…

Likely he did.

He didn't really care.

‘You'd think about it?’ he whispered, lowering his voice as a show of respect to the books crammed into the overstuffed shelves on either side of them.

Though he'd be hesitant to admit it aloud to anyone (lest the truth ruin the bad boy persona he'd been carefully cultivating for many years), Sebastian was at his happiest when surrounded by books. No longer having access to the Hogwarts library since he’d graduated a year prior, he'd taken to visiting Tomes and Scrolls so often that Mr Brown, a fervent bibliophile and an avid sesquipedalian, had given him a part-time job and leased him the shoebox flat on the second floor, ‘...since you refuse to cease importuning me with your quotidian ritual of perambulating about my pulchritudinous premises!’

Crammed with books but bereft of furniture, the tiny, two-roomed flat was dingey, draughty and, judging by the thick layer of dust that’d greeted him on his arrival, hadn't had a living soul cross its threshold since 1892 — but it sure beat living with Solomon in Feldcroft: the only thing his uncle hated more than Sebastian's boards was Sebastian himself, and though piles of books didn't offer much in the way of conversation on those long nights alone in his flat, at least they'd never called him a good-for-nothing waste of space nor gotten so black-out drunk they’d passed out in the middle of the living room for several days. 

No, when it came to companionship, Sebastian generally preferred the fictional sort.

Today, though, squeezed between the narrow aisles with a girl whose radiance rendered him dumber than a flobberworm, Sebastian wouldn't have noticed if the books became sentient, grew papery legs and performed a perfectly choreographed flash dance in the village square. Deep in the reverential hush of the bookstore, they could have been the only two people in the world.

‘Well, you seemed so terribly earnest about us getting married…’ mused the girl, trailing delicate fingers over book spines and blurbs. ‘And I didn't want to hurt your feelings when you were injured. And then the barkeeper came —’

‘— Sirona.’

‘Oui. And you asked her to prepare us a wedding suite.’

Sebastian stared at her. ‘I can't tell if you’re joking or if you’re just…’

‘French?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Mm,’ she said simply, and it was only when she looked him over did he become horrifying aware of his state of dishevelment: his grey hoodie was caked in dirt, there was a new tear in his jeans that he hadn't artfully produced on purpose, and when he glanced at his reflection in a nearby glass cabinet, he was shocked by how much blood was smeared across his forehead.

This was not Sebastian's first head wound. It was, however, his most mortifying.

And yet, for reasons he couldn’t fathom, this angelic girl, with her silk blouse and balletic gait, wasn’t running from him, threatening to hex him, or even regarding him with the slightest bit of ridicule. In fact, unless the knock to his brain had skewed his ability to accurately interpret social cues, she rather seemed to be enjoying his company.

Or at the very least, she found him amusing.

He could work with amusing.

When she disappeared down the next aisle, he steeled his nerves, cast a (mostly useless) cleaning charm over his scraggly appearance, and followed after her again — only this time, with the strategic use of his signature swagger in full swing, the effect of which usually left hoards of girls swooning in his wake.

He tousled his hair.

‘Anyway,’ he began, confident, suave, assured, ‘I'm Sebas —’

‘— Sebastian Sallow,’ she said, not looking up from the book she was perusing. ‘I know, you told me earlier. You also told me your age, your middle name, which house you were in at Hogwarts, your favourite colour, and,’ — she flashed a dubious glance at the cut on his forehead, — ‘that you're “hands down the best skater in all the Highlands.”’

Sebastian's swagger visibly deflated.

‘Is that all I told you?’ he gulped. Given his recent history, blabbering on about marriage was not the worst thing he could’ve told her.

Not by any stretch.

‘Mhm.’ She slipped the book under her arm and glided deeper into the shop. ‘Aside from the marriage proposal.’

‘Right,’ he swallowed. ‘Aside from that. So, uh.’ He stepped around her before she could flit off again. ‘Are you going to tell me your name?’

She smiled up at him, and he wondered if her plump, strawberry lips tasted as sweet as they looked.

Fuck.

‘I already did,’ she said coyly, lightly stepping around him again. ‘But you evidently did not commit it to memory.’

Whatever remained of his short-lived confidence packed up its bags and slinked out of the bookstore with its tail between its legs, leaving him fully exposed as the poser he truly was.

‘You didn't,’ he moaned, chasing after the scent of her floral hair like a bee starved of pollen.

‘I did.’

‘No.’

‘Twice, actually.’

‘Twice?’

‘Mhm,’ she said, picking up another book. ‘Not a great start to our whirlwind romance, is it?’

Sebastian looked at her sideways.

‘I still can't tell if you're joking,’ he lamented, feeling a burgeoning sense of anxiety tighten his chest. ‘What if I guess?’

She set the book down and turned to him.

‘Listen, Sebastian,’ she began, pronouncing his name the French way, ‘you seem very sweet, but —’

‘I am!’ he blurted. ‘I am sweet! Very sweet, in fact! Unless —’ A surge of panic stole through him. — ‘Unless you don't like sweet? In that case, I'm not sweet, I'm horrible. A nightmare. I'm literally the worst, I'm —’

‘You're dumb,’ she interrupted with a giggle.

Sebastian softened like fucking butter.

‘I can be that,’ he said with so much earnestness he wondered what the fucking hell was wrong with him. ‘I can be dumb, if that's what you want. Just tell me what you want, and I'll be it.’’

‘What I want,’ she said, regarding him with equal parts exasperation and pity, ‘is for you to get your head looked at.’

'You sound like my uncle,' he snorted. 'I mean, uh, I will!... If you come with me?'

‘Do you need me to hold your hand?’ she said archly.

‘Yes!’

‘Mm…’ She pretended to think. ‘Non.’

‘But — wait! What if — What if I have a concussion and I die without ever knowing your name? Wouldn't that be tragic?’ He pressed his hands to his chest and went on dramatically, ‘As I lay dying, holding the vision of your face in my mind's eye like a guiding light, my only regret will be that I never knew the name of beauty.’

Clearly unmoved, she levelled him a look so dry it would've parched a weaker man than he. But Sebastian Sallow was no coward! — Especially not with books at his disposal and the smell of parchment in his lungs. Inspired into a literary fervour, he swept his arms wide.

‘Eyes, look your last! Arms, take your last embrace! And, lips,’ — his voice dropped to a whisper, — ‘O you the doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss…’

‘Oh, mon dieu.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘It's Aurélie. — Aurélie Collins.’

Sebastian's mouth dropped.

‘Aurélie Collins the ballerina?’

‘Oui.’

She turned. He followed.

‘The famous one?’

‘Oui.’

‘But you're the youngest ballerina in the Paris ballet or — whatever. Right?’

‘Ballet de l'Opéra national de Paris,’ she corrected, holding herself a little straighter. ‘I didn't pick you as a ballet fan.’

‘I'm — well, I'm not,’ he admitted sheepishly. ‘But my best mate is. Fancy prick, Ominis is, but all the Gaunt's are.’

She stopped so abruptly that he bumped into her.

‘Ominis Gaunt is your best friend?’

Considering they hadn't spoken in over a year, “best friend” seemed a bit of a stretch, but for all intents and purposes, Ominis was really the only friend Sebastian had. Or used to have: after that one time Sebastian had used the torture curse on him, their friendship had become a little… strained.

‘Why?’ He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. ‘Do you know him?’

‘Yes, I do,’ she said loftily. ‘In fact, he and I have a date planned in ten minutes from now.’

Don't worry, there's not a single universe in which Sebastian and Aurélie don't fall stupidly in love. I just needed a foolproof way to make Sebebe jealous in part 2, and what better than to have his girl (quote unquote) go on a date with his estranged best friend who he tortured for a spell book that one time lol.

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

The changes in writing in s6 are so interesting. Because you're totally right that a lot of the rotten core is still there (sublimation is a whole mess with their half assed attempt to hold Marinette accountable that they can't even commit to, for example) but there's also some technical writing that's on a way better level than anything seen before. Granted, the bar is on the floor, so I wouldn't exactly call the current quality great, but it's starting to feel like there are some actually decent writers involved who know who to use an A plot and B plot the reinforce the main point, and how to use parellels and foils and allegory in a way that feels competent, at least on an episode level.

But even with those improvements I don't have much faith for the season level writing. The very premise of s6 seems to make failure inevitable because they're unwilling to do any of the things that they would have to do if they wanted to have any kind of satisfying pay off here.

At the very least, the plot would have to hold Marinette meaningfully accountable for her mistakes for a good period of time. They would need to treat Adrien like his own character with inner world as well as "imperfect" traits like being angry and acting on that anger in whatever way, specifically against their precious protagonist. Hell, they would need to dedicate some more screen time to Adrien's emotional arc in general in a way that's more than "uwu sad boy", which might make him a very inconvinent boyfriend to Marinette.

Most importantly, they would have to write a character arc with development that sticks. Something which the show never managed to do intentionally.

(I think this was the post that spawned this ask based on timing)

I completely agree. There have been some improvements at the episode level, but the higher levels have yet to show any improvements. That's a problem because the show has too many serialized elements for me to turn off my brain and enjoy the one-offs. That's what I used to do back when the serialized elements were more subtle, but they're glaring now and Miraculous still isn't serialized, making it impossible for it to be good given its current narrative. Is anyone enjoying the fact that the lies can't be addressed because it would break the status quo? I don't think so. Even those who are positive about this season seem be waiting for the lies to come out, but I'm not sure if they even will be and the lies existence kills the fun for me.

I'm not going to sit here and coo over the love square when the writers have decided to have Marinette knowingly keeping things from Adrien. That's the kind of plot that needs to be addressed! Gabriel being the villain also needed to be addressed, but his identity staying a secret for seasons made sense for the story and characters. The same cannot be said of the lies. You can argue that it makes sense for Marinette's character (I disagree), but there's no argument for it making sense in the context of the story unless the love square isn't the end game couple. I wouldn't put that past these writers, but it would be a shocking move and I don't see the higher ups signing off on that one.

[nemo-bros]

this is my new visual schedule:

i have no idea how to image describe pictures with so many things in them, so I'm sorry I have no image description, but I will do my best to explain the purpose of each page (left to right top to bottom)

the cover (keeps pieces from falling off if I put the flipbook in my backpack or something) the cover also has my name on it but I cropped this out

'first next then after' page (the main page I use, has my soonest upcoming tasks- I take pieces from the 'to do' page and put them here)

'to do' (at the morning I fill up this page with my tasks like cleaning, chores, and studying- I do have cards for other fun activities and eating but I only ues them on the first page in between tasks from this page)

'done' (when I finish a task on the 'first next then after' page I move it here- it gives me dopamine to see everything I finished that day and makes me less stressed about the amount of things I need to do)

hygiene page- this page is actually so so good its like a cheat code- If you take nothing else from this post at least take this idea: the top (orange) section is for the morning, the bottom (blue) section is for the evening. in the morning all the cards will be in the morning section, when I finish a task I get to move it to the evening section (repeat this for all 6 tasks). in the evening I do the tasks again but the cards get moved to the morning section this time. (if there's a day where I didn't finish then I just move them anyways the next morning as a "reset") this page is in my book but it's probably more helpful just to leave it in the bathroom on the counter or mirror or something (without systems like this I cannot take care of my basic needs, even with these supports and the additional supports in my home i cannot reliably take care of my basic needs)

images 6-9 show some of the word storage pages, I have a total of 10 of these pages

if you're curious at all how i made it let me know and i will post the steps i did to make it and where I got all the pictures!! (I want everyone to be able to access systems like these if they need them, so I am very open to sharing this)

something i really really like about this flip book is that its very tactile and very visual- it does not require very much brain power to use- I really like to just move around the pieces on the pages with the velcro as a stim

i was promted to do this because recently a teacher told me I just need to manage my schedule better and that I should be trying harder (little does she know I'm trying my hardest already)

ive tried so many types of schedules and routines and I just cant stick to them (this is one reason I suspect adhd in addition to my autism but idrk and it probably doesnt matter), but then after she said that I was like okay I guess this is a good excuse to try a visual schedule so I made one (very time consuming but also fun) and then am still disapproved of for some reason... I think she thinks its "too childish/I'm not disabled enough" which I disagree because if it helps and they need it then they should use it regardless of sterotypes- i think this is true for all adaptive tech and disability aids

my point in showing this is to let other autistc adults know that you can use visual schedules if they help you and to boost someone else's confidence for them to use an aid they are afraid to because its stigmatized (also yes mine looks kind of simple/etc but I chose to do it this way because it works good for my brain like this- not because its how all visual schedules should/need to look)

[tianshiisdead]

(here to fight) Nichu would never sail as ship because if China went for any East Asian country it'd be South Korea (and Japan is stuck on Italy)

HELLO ANON!!!!!!! thank you for taking my fighting offer kiss kiss 🙏 I love fighting

warnings i am going to be arguing for nichu and against itapan (as gently as I can) so please be warned!! i will not put it in the tag, do scroll if you like it and no hate to you <3

Honestly I don’t disagree there’s relatively (RELATIVELY) less bad blood between China and SKorea, and I agree that nichu wouldn’t ‘sail’ necessarily in modern day, but I do disagree that makes it less real than itapan or korchu (despite being a korchu shipper myself) purely because it’s a ship rooted in such a deep set history and national identity!! Like, okay, ships are always subjective, and as someone who’s quite history and nation brained, who enjoys the study of history and people and society, I do have that bias when interpreting ships and characters. I tend to treat hetalia canon as important but relatively more supplementary I think so that is going to affect my argument. I won’t argue too much against Korchu because I am fond of it as well but I do think that like… China is equally likely to go for either Korea or Japan because while he hates Japan, he um , likely disdains South Korea/is irritated by him, for not being grateful enough and for being beholden to The Enemy (the US). Like I think China dislikes Japan more but he also, in modern day, respects Japan a lot more…. and same goes for South Korea tbh. For the Itapan… I honestly can’t say much more than ‘I disagree’ JKLFDGFH I see what the shippers are putting down and I’m happy for them, I think the countries have a neat little history together, they have a cute bond in canon, but it’s not necessarily deep enough for me to be very interested in it. Of course they have a bit of history as nations but I don’t see it as much of a compelling one past fun facts and basic relations you’d expect fairly nations to have over the centuries of knowing of each other’s existence. It’s a cute ship but it doesn’t have the same level of historical basis as Nichu imo, Japan being fond of Italy in canon (which is a joke series that offers a certain flexibility to the characters + also has plenty of china-japan main moments) isn’t really enough to sway me, as someone who takes Hetalia fully as nation personification. China and Japan are nations who are paralleled and have thousands of years of history… which I will now elaborate on.

Nations are funny things, they are constructed through power and reified through these things such as contrasting one’s own social community with out-groups, so on and so forth. The concept of the nation after its birth, in order to remain relevant or alive in any sense, must constantly be reinforced, made physical and negotiated by its members as they pass through a world where the porosity of physical boundaries bleed into less physical national ones. I think of Hetalia, of nation personification really, as an extension of that. The nation is born through its history, their identities are shaped by their interactions with power, with each other, and with humans. They are systems made real, a physical manifestation of nebulous and ultimately artificial categories. I mean, identities are created things right? What makes a nation, a nationality? Is it your passport, your blood, your community? I’d argue no, all of these are aspects of a larger system that connects many separate things, but that system is only seen as one piece because of the fairly modern concept of the ‘nation state’ which we privileges as the ultimate unit of human groupings. Our cultures and nationalities are created things, and our building of our identities, our interactions with each other, all of these things continue to shape our nation itself, which in large part rests on our acknowledgement of it.

Now that I have my yapping out of the way I want to establish why this is important to Nichu. Nichu is, to me, a ship of national identity, a ship about the way systems interact and bleed into each other, about the movements of power between humans and the systems they live within. Japan and China have defined themselves with each other and defined each other through the years. Their systems, cultures, languages, legal systems, etc are all intertwined through thousands of years of history good and bad, and yet they lack the common roots and blurred founding myths that might make them meaningfully related or might make them feel like sibilings. No, their individual identities and histories are simply too strong to allow them to have that sort of tie, and yet, and yet, they nonetheless see each other as if looking through a mirror… Somehow, they’re totally separate nations who became intertwined throughout the passage of history.

Initially China taught Japan, and Japan as the periphery defined itself through a set of comparisons, through similarities and differences with China. As a nation on the edge of the sinosphere that floated in and out of being a tributary, Japan is a nation who had eras where it imported products and intellectual ideals on a massive scale from China, and eras where it sealed itself off from China. To China it barely existed, but to Japan China was this massive force right, much like Rome was to Europe. But then… later on, there came a time when Japan had ambitions to take over mainland East Asia: first the Imjin War and then later the colonial era. In that early modern period, China fell from its position of power centre and instead became a periphery, an object of colonialism, and many Chinese intellectuals travelled to Japan to study and learn and model China off of Japan’s East Asia modern in an attempt to raise the nation up. This is both similar and different from traditional western colonialism right, like of course the movements of intellectual class and adopting of foreign ideas is normal but this sense of closeness that Japan and China felt despite it all is very much a product of their shared history. Japanese and Chinese intellectuals put so much emphasis on this, China was learning from Japan because Japan was East Asian! Because it offered a formula for East Asia modern that took western ideas - but adapted them to what was thought to best suit East Asian peoples and cultures! This isn’t to say that should be taken at face value, the unequal relationship influenced everything and the concept of greater East Asian unity was in many ways copium, and colonialism was on the horizon, but it speaks to I think a sort of closeness, even if its a closeness that China itself also resents (for a good reason). Like… this is a reversal of roles and it also speaks to the ways nations from outside the west cope with a western modernity. It’s a way that teachers become students and students become teachers, a way power forms itself through relations. Japan… has always known of China, and in many eras focused on China as the hegemon. China has never viewed Japan, or at least very rarely… but in the modern day you find Japanese held within China’s modernity due to the way modern history played out, many political and technological terms and even early modern nation building and policy were mapped off of Japan the way Japanese nation building was once mapped off of China. It’s this ever intertwined relationship, their modern selves truly cannot exist without the other, driven ever closer and ever farther away.

I guess I like to think of it as a sort of chase, a tragicomedy, Japan who was always relatively more isolated than his mainland neighbors, lonely due to being an island reaching the height of his empire and falling, China who’s always returned to power and rolled his eyes at even his conquerers, but then suddenly being brought down to the role of student. An essay on a Meiji sinologist that I’ve quoted before puts it best I think, it’s one of my favourite quotes: ‘In colonizing its cultural ancestor, Japan lost a vital element of its own identity’. Isn’t that so interesting? Japan who had always chased after something only to lose that thing before he even gets his hands on it. China who can’t shake the ways his former student has shaped him in both policy and also through rage and pain. I’m endlessly fascinated with them and the ways they can’t quite pull themselves apart from each other. It’s not all hatred, they’ve shared many quiet moments as student and teacher and then teacher and student, there’s a familiarity to someone so close, who even while you speak different languages you can still make out the gist of each other’s writing due to a shared character-meaning system. I don’t know if these immortal nations would approach romance the way humans do, but whatever it is Nichu’s relationship is a deep and strange thing that is too strong to just put aside.

Aside from that really heavy stuff I think they could be cute in modern day as well <33 Of course we had a sort of honeymoon in the 1980s where Japanese investments meant a lot of cultural exchange, but even now… I do think they could go for karaoke and hook up afterwards or smthn idk

[website-enjoyer]

ive been thinking abt that post thats gone around a few times abt voluntarism in imperial core organizing and its relationship to sexual violence within those organizations. i agree with it in many ways, and at the same time—lets consider this characterization of lenin:

and compare it to this characterization of FBI informant brandon darby, accused of sexually assaulting women organizers during his time in the organization common ground:

in both cases we are presented with a man who can’t be gotten rid of because he does so much, despite the fact that all of the conflicts and quarrels within the organization are his work. we could consider both of these to be characterizations of some degree of voluntarism. there's a tension between the weaknesses of voluntarism and the strengths of vanguardism. both men had outsized individual impacts on the organizations they were part of (though ofc the situation of the masses is the main factor).

however, in the first case we have a man who led the first major successful socialist revolution, and in the second we have a far-right agent provocateur. interestingly, cliff follows up the passage about lenin above with a quote from zetkin about lenin’s rather ascetic and conservative views on sex and drugs:

this is obviously a point where i disagree with lenin given the differences in conditions (i am partial to kollontai on this)—but put in this context, contrasted with a figure like darby, lenin's political asexuality starts making a certain kind of sense especially given the gender relations of his time.

and i don't really have any conclusions here, it’s just been rattling around in my brain. like, voluntarism is a weakness (as seen whenever lenin was indisposed!) particularly when someone indispensable can't be reconciled with others but i'm not sure the voluntarism itself is the reason for situations where this occurs around sexual violence. i think it starts to get messier and more superstructural and more connected to the sophistication of modern imperialism in subtly crushing movements. or something idk?

[silliestcolressfan]

I am going to do some infodumping about my silly lil 1776×Splatoon au because its taking over my brain ^_^

I'm also gonna make a specific tag for this: Splatoon 1776

Alr so number one, uhhhhhhh TJ

I've decided that's he's gonna be Agent 3 because like, why the fuck not?? Also, JA is gonna be Agent 8 so ^_^

So like, he lives a quiet life and enjoys the company of his intimates, RHL, his wife, Martha (yes, they're all gonna be legally adults), and a few others, depending on what I do with this au in future. He also plays the violin really well, to the point some believe that he should make music for a career, but he really doesn't want to. Too much attention and not such a quiet life

As an agent, he works hard, stays focused, and gets the job done!!!! He was really surprised when he saw JA in the deepsea metro, and even more surprised to see Abigail there. He has the scar from tartars hypnosis (I think that's what it's called? I'm not sure, sorry 😓😓)

He also mains the Octobrush

Next we have John Dickinson as Agent 4!!!!

Again, he was chosen for why the fuck not. Also, because I'm a strong believer that Parallel Canon is Agent 4, and one thing that happens in 1776 is that Adams and Dickinson fight.

He tends to just do his thing, ig (I'll have to ask @pingskumonium for help with Dickinson 😓) I just know that's he's friends with George Read, that he doesn't write straight, and that he disagreed with JA 🙏🙏

I think he'd either main the Splattershot or be a tenta missiles spammer with the Reef Lux 450

Next is JA as 8, as mentioned twice before ^_^

I chose him to be 8 because, well, their whole thing is like escaping the deepsea metro, saving the octolings, and defeating evils (eg, tartar, order). I've also took some creative liberties (with help from coroika) to put Abigail with him because he deserves his wife 🫶

So like, they got married and lived happily together in Octo Valley until she just. Disappeared. That's around when he encountered TJ (3) and Capn Cuttlefish, all three of which were attacked, and he woke up in the deepsea metro separated from 3, and everything I'm the Octo Expansion. Now, here's where more of my ideas come in. In 'Fake Plastic Station', Adams doesn't actually splat Abigail, who is the last sanitised octoling there, and instead spares her because he recognises her just ever so slightly. Also because she dropped her glasses and broke them after the ink jet (she has never used one until then), which the mechanism took as her being splatted. Therefore, the two return to the station together, as she no longer has the glasses (I'm like, 90% sure they have hypnosis powers. Even if they don't, this is my au so :333)

And the rest of Octo Expansion goes the way it does

Abigail is only sanitised because I wanted an excuse to put her in Side Order

JA would main Enperry Splat Dualies and Abigail would main the Octoshot. Change my mind 😋

[measureyourlifeincake]

Malevolent E9 (not specifically about that ep but yknow. i havent listened past it so if anything i say is contradicted by anything in later eps, that's why): Been thinking about how Malevolent's story is so defined by the constraints of its creation and the problem-solving used to get around that (I mean, I suppose the same can be said to some degree for nearly any piece of art, but it really jumps out for me here).

The first and most obvious example is Arthur's blindness, with John "acting as his eyes" by describing their surroundings for him (and the audience)—it's (to me at least) clearly contrived as a way to get around the "This Gun In My Right Hand Is Loaded" problem, but it also is kind of the main conceit of the plot, and immediately defines John and Arthur's relationship—Arthur has to rely upon John from the jump, even though he has no real proof of his intentions or trustworthiness. "I have your eyes," John says, a threat as much as it is a fact. All John has to do to harm Arthur is stop talking and watch him blunder around without his help (which he does do eventually, but the threat hanging over his head is, at least initially, enough to convince Arthur to cooperate with him). It's an interesting tool for the audience to understand what is going on at any given point of the story, but also, it has real actual consequences in the story that reverberate through the narrative.

(putting the rest under the cut bc this got Long)

There's also the fact that John and Arthur are constantly recapping what has happened and laying out what all their options and potential consequences of said options are going forward. To me, this (as well as the above) feels like the author's main goal is to make sure the audience is clear on Exactly what is going on At All Times. The episodes only come out once a month, after all, and it could be hard to remember what happened in the last episode if you haven't revisited it since then (also I am just now realizing that this is sort of paralleled with Arthur's month-long coma). There's also the thing about how apparently Patreon supporters can influence where the story goes, and I'm not entirely sure how that works, but it gives Guthrie another incentive to make sure the audience has all the possible options laid out for them.

But, while I do think this is done mainly for the audience's benefit, it does also tell us a lot about Arthur and John's characters/relationship. It says that, despite any differences of opinion or questions of trust they may have—they do view whatever they have together (which I have been told... changes over time, but for right now I'm just talking about their relationship up until where I've listened) as an actual partnership—they want to make sure they are on the same page, or at least understand what the other is thinking. They may disagree on the correct course of action, but Arthur pretty much always tells John what he's doing instead of trying to get one over on him. Also, since they do try to reason out everything they do, and Arthur keeps charging into risky situations ass-first anyway, it tells us that Arthur sees himself as a very intelligent and rational man, when really he just seems to be very good at justifying whatever stupid decisions he might make in the pursuit of Knowledge.

And then there's uh. Women. (I sorta mentioned this in a different post but I can't stop turning it around in my brain)

So it seems that Harlan Guthrie a) has decided to not hire any voice actors and just voice every character himself, and b) doesn't seem to believe himself capable of convincingly voicing a female character (or just doesn't want to. idk).

This doesn't mean that there aren't any women or girls in Malevolent—on the contrary, the podcast is full of them. They are all either old crones or daughters—crazy old women and wraiths and babies and missing girls and missing girls and dead missing girls. They cry, they wheeze, they laugh, they write letters to close friends (but of course, their friends are not there to read the letters), but they can never speak for themselves, in their own voices. They must be dead, or wordless, or both.

They haunt the narrative, and haunt the narrative, and haunt the narrative. They are metaphysically incapable of doing anything else. They can save Arthur's life, help guide his way, but they can never have a simple conversation with him. Obviously Arthur had to be in a coma for just long enough that Amanda/Sarah died before he could talk to her. It couldn't ever have gone any other way—the world doesn't work like that.

And then there's Arthur's daughter. She's dead. It hasn't been explicitly stated yet at the point I'm at (she's mentioned for the first time at the end of E9), but it's pretty obvious. Not only did he mention her name first when he was literally dying, but just. Of course she is. There's no chance she isn't, that maybe Arthur thinks she's dead but really something else has happened to her—all daughters are dead. That's just how it works. (except for that one baby, I suppose. The baby is interesting—I notice they explicitly refer to her as female when I don't think they had a way to know that*. She just Is a girl, she has to be. She needs protecting, therefore she is a Daughter, plain and simple).

And learning that Arthur has (had) a daughter has caused me to look at the rest of the girls in this podcast differently (and is honestly a big reason why I wanted to write this post in the first place.) Those missing-turned-dead girls, the baby, all those young girls haunting the narrative—they're all his daughter, naturally. (not literally but y'know, meta-narratively or whatever) They're not just haunting the narrative, but haunting him specifically.

Anyway, girls haunting horror stories and fridged women and whatever other tropes that keep women from fully participating in stories are nothing new, obviously (and I imagine that Guthrie is very intentional when he invokes those tropes—this whole thing is a big ol' nod to Lovecraft, there's no way this guy is doing horror tropes by accident), but the fact that it seems to be like that mostly because Guthrie just Didn't Want to Hire An Actor makes it way more interesting to me.

I'm sure most (if not all) of this has been discussed in the fandom already, but I haven't read any meta or anything yet and I just wanted to get my thoughts down. Honestly, part of why I made this post is that I feel like I can clearly see what Guthrie was going for in how he built this story (/is building this story) and how it works within the world of the characters, but I'm still trying to puzzle out how I personally feel about the choices he made. (ex: do I appreciate how clear he makes things for the listener or do i feel like my hand is being held to much and i'm not being trusted to understand what's going on? if the latter, is it integrated into the story well enough for me to forgive it?) Writing this has... not actually helped much. I'll let you know if I figure it out.

*Okay I went back to the transcript, and it seems they start using she/her pronouns for the baby as soon as the old woman gives her to them. I assumed that the baby was wearing clothes or swaddled in a blanket the whole time, but I don't think this is ever explicitly stated, so it's possible it could've been clear once John was able to get a close enough look at her. Still, this is very much glossed over. Which, granted, it would be weird if they took a moment in the text to like, look at the baby's genitals, so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[dreamii-krybaby]

Oh god my silly goofy brain can’t stop but hi again! Its been a long time I wanted to post this somewhere so why not here?

Thoughts on the show Murder Drones:

Heads up: I personally suck when it comes to expressing thoughts or ideas,so sorry in advance if I all of this is a mess or gives a wrong idea,all of this are just my thoughts and opinions,if you disagree with them thats ok! Just be respectful

So as for now I have watched and seen every single official content of MDs and boi its a blast of a series! I originally knew Glitch Productions from Meta Runner! Anyways

I love the series,but like with everything,it has its problems

The humor in the show was a bit too “on the nose” for me in the pilot,but the jokes have grown in me,and EP2 nails it with my humor taste!

As for the animation? Stunning but it does bother me a little but that is has a lot of problems with clipping,especially the pilot but EP2 doesn’t seem to have as many as the pilot. The clothing of the characters sometimes look…wonky? I guess thats how I would describe it?

And as for the writing? I feel like it has a lot of potential but it seems like thats cut short due to the fact that the series is going to be short (being around 8 episodes according to the fan wiki) and also with the amount of minutes episodes have (I wouldn’t mind having to wait longer for 40 mins episodes of MDs) so some concepts seem to has a really fast pace for me

I think my main problem with is Ns redemption arc,Now now put down your pitchforks please-

I don’t mind N switching sides since the pilot,its more of its execution…it felt a tad bit rushed

I would have enjoyed that before N spared Uzi,in the time they were bonding in the ship,bc at that time N thought Uzi was a DD, I would have liked if they talked about how they feel around other people. Like maybe uzi could make a joke or a reference on how shitty school is for her,how her people reject her,maybe that she is constantly alone and doesn’t feel loved by her father. And the both could bond over the fact they are outcasts and desperate of approval or affection. This could make N sparing Uzi as more of “the last straw” since he already knows how shitty people treat her,seeing her dad leaving her for dead be “the nail in the coffin” for him. Basically make them bond over their shared problems before Uzis spare.

I understand that Ns killing spree in the pilot happened bc he wanted to get rid of Uzis railgun,but he also wanted to take down Uzi too and he also killed a bunch of WDF members. If he truly wanted to just get rid of the gun he could have simply stole it and destroy it but he didn’t why? Because he wanted to “give his best” but I feel like that didn’t come to me after a few weeks of analyzing it (or maybe am stupid) So make this man show his desperation,show this cinnamon roll desperation for approval even if it means killing innocents,he wants nothing more but the safety and approval of his co-workers and the company to extreme lengths.

Anyways back to him switching sides,I want the this boyboss to suffer- OK OK HEAR ME OUT PLEASE-

N does show regret from all the mass murder,but lets make that shit even better. I want to see N having a existential crisis,I want him to be consumed by guilt by the fact he killed thousands,ruined countless of families and gave them insane amount of trauma.

I want him to deal with the fact he did horrible things and there is nothing he can do to fix it. I want him to be scared of himself . I want Uzi to be hesitant of befriending him,maybe even sometimes getting flashbacks from their first encounter making her afraid of N,making N feel horrible about himself.

I want him to go “well,I definitely have done horrible things that can’t be undone,but I can change for the better”

Like please it would be the perfect arc for him PLEASE-

And of course,I want to see some WDs still be terrified,angry,scared of him. Like even of he saves a bunch of WDs some of them will still resent N for all the damaged he has causes in the past. He could Encounter WDs who had scaped from him,family members or friends of the ones he killed,and they simply can’t bear to trust him which is completely valid

It could also be a nice contrast to Uzi’s arc,Him having a redemption arc and having to earn some of the colony’s trust and accept the fact that he can’t be trusted by everyone unlike Uzi’s arc which is literally a Villian arc and loosing trust of everyone around her that she slowly gained

Edit: Btw I am aware that N wasn’t malicious or anything and just simply following orders,this is more after he switches sides,like after he realizes WDs were actually innocent lil dudes vibing,all of this is more of a “oh shit,oh fuc-“ moment

I also want to see Js backstory,maybe a bit more depth for her,I hope we get a backstory for her and it explains her hatred for N

I hope to also see a bit if more Vs character and development! She wasn’t really someone I was interested in until EP2 (Damm EP2 was really a step up)

I honestly enjoy most of the character because they aren’t simply “good or bad” (except for J,lizzy,they are jerks. Thad is literally a saint. And also I don’t personally consider Khan being “bad”,like yeah he fucked up he isn’t malicious or evil)

Speaking of khan…I actually grown on him,no joke,let me explain

Yes he left Uzi for dead,which is horrible but understandable. The more you look at it my man was having a ptsd attack,he was shaking for gods sake,he probably wasn’t thinking straight. He also showed deep guilt in doing it

Yes information gotten from the backgrounds have shown he prefers doors over Uzi and in an interview he calls her a disappointment,which is horrible but some of his thoughts process are understandable or have changed (I think)

At the end of EP2 he does show genuine care for Uzi he just..sucks at parenting which can happen! You can care for someone and want to but your execution sucks ass

I honestly find his character fascinating,it seems (and I hope) that the direction they are going to take his character is from being a shitty father to improving as one

I have rarely seen parental characters who start shitty but later improve for the sake of their loved ones,which is super fun and can have wholesome moments

(Btw am not justifying Khans actions,am just telling you that they are understandable)

Also the ending of episode EP2 has shown that Khan may have some tension with N,which is valid honestly and I am excited how it will play out

Also we need more content of Thad,Uzi and N bonding together (I call them the TUN squad)

I also want Lizzy character development,please give the lesbian development like her gf. I only slightly like her bc of her funny moments and bc she is pretty.

Also am so sorry but the WDs school uniform needs a redesign am so sorry- like what are those colors??? They look fine by themselves but they don’t match with the color pallet of the students!

I also prefer Dolls hair color from her concept art or from the pilot,and I want Lizzy to have pink tips in her hair like her concept art

Also I know I want the idea of the boyboss going through a complex redemption arc but I need more Evil laughs from this man..please…🛐🛐🛐🛐 His short ass evil chuckle from the pilot and the teaser makes me go 🛐🛐🛐 (as you can see I am very down bad for this man)

[nebulablakemurphy]

Miss American Pie

Chapter Two: The Perfect Partner Project

Warning!: This series features a romantic Yelena Belova x Fem!Reader pairing. Please keep scrolling if that’s not for you. 💜

Summary: After you’re freed from Dreykov’s control you team up with Yelena and Natasha to take down the red room.

Chapter One : Chemical Subjugation

“I thought you had a jet?” Yelena cocks her head to the side, as you approach the decrepit helicopter.

“I asked for one.” Natasha mutters, under her breath.

“This isn’t a jet.” You add, the closer you get, the worse it becomes.

“I realize that!” The man who’d been standing with his back to you whips around to defend himself. This must be Natasha’s friend. “But you know what you didn’t give me? Time. Or money. I’m not made of jets.”

“Aww, he’s sensitive.” Yelena coos, “I see why you keep him around.”

“I’m not sensitive.” He protests.

“Of course not,” you smirk.

“Listen you-“ he breaks off. “Who are you again?”

“Y/N Y/L/N,” Yelena introduces you, climbing aboard. “She’s my partner….” She shrugs, “you name it really.”

“Partner works.” You chuckle, joining her in the cockpit.

“If you say so,” Yelena waves a dismissive hand. Getting a feel for the controls.

“Wonderful,” the man acknowledges your title.

“Thanks for the ride, Dick.” You salute him through the front window.

“It’s Rick,” he calls back.

“I know.” You give him a thumbs up. Waiting until he turns back to his conversation with Natasha. Taking the opportunity to lean down, kissing the top of Yelena’s head.

She cranes her head back to see you.

You nuzzle your nose against hers, until an exaggeration throat clearing tears you apart.

“We don’t have time for this.” Natasha, of course.

Yelena scowls at her, “yeah, yeah.”

Breaking Alexei out of a maximum security prison using only an earpiece, stowed inside of an action figure is a terrible plan. Nearly as bad as using him for information on how to locate a facility that’s impossible to find, run by a man who’s too slippery to kill.

That doesn’t stop you though. Generally speaking it’s going well. Until one of Yelena’s shots triggers an avalanche.

“Woah.” She marvels at the scene before you, her masterpiece. “Now this would be a cool way to die.”

“Yeah,” you holler back, sarcastically, over the chaos.

“You were getting no where with your tiny guns.” Yelena points out.

“Slow and steady wins the race,” you remind her.

“Fast is better. Solves problems.”

“And clearly creates new ones.” You jerk your chin toward the mountain.

“Get us out of here!” Natasha’s voice blares through the headset.

“I’m on it.” Yelena assures her. Moving into a better position for extraction. “Watch the side window.”

At her request you shuffle to the main ship. The prison guards are still putting up a fight. Inmates running in every direction.

“Alright, Natasha’s with us.” You confirm, once she’s secured her place on the black hanging rope. “Circle between the walls on your left to grab Alexei.”

“Yeah, no problem.” Yelena snarks, steering the plane away from another explosion.

“You’re doing a great job.”

“Don’t lie to me!”

“Fine,” you huff. “The spot is tight and the angle is bad. I don’t know how you’re gonna pull this off.”

Yelena is silent, processing the information. “Lie to me a little.” She amends.

“You got this.” The blinding wall of white threatens to swallow Alexei whole. You’re holding your breath too as the rope moves past the metal bridge he’s standing on.

“Well?” She yelps, impatiently.

“I don’t know. I can’t see.” Once the snow and ice clears, you spot two figures carefully scaling the rope. “Yelena?”

“Hmm.” She hums, expecting the worst.

“I knew you had it.”

“Yes,” Yelena sighs, before falling into easy laughter. More invested in this than she will ever admit.

————————————————————-

Unfortunately, entertaining as Alexei may be, he has next to no information about Dreykov.

Instead he drawls on and on about how the man wronged him. Stuck him on that “boring mission” in Ohio. Then tossed him in jail and threw away the key because of…hair? A party?

You weren’t entirely sure. You excuse yourself to the vacant seat beside Yelena. Giving her thigh a reassuring squeeze.

Full lips twitch up into a grin.

“Tell us where the red room is.” Natasha grumbles.

“I have no idea!” He shouts, and then in Russian. “Why don’t you ask Melina?”

“Mom Melina?” Yelena whips her head around.

“We thought she was dead.”

“You cannot kill a fox that swift,” Alexei sucks in a breath.

You choke on your own saliva.

“Ew.” Natasha winces.

“What?” The man shrugs. “She was the master mind. His architect.”

“Are you telling me that Melina works for the red room present day?” Natasha leans closer.

“Yes,” he nods. “Remotely, outside Saint Petersburg.”

“I don’t think we have enough fuel for Saint Petersburg.” Yelena decides, after checking the needle on the gauge.

“We’ll make it.” Alexei waves away her concern.

“Ok,” Yelena mutters.

You look over at her.

“We’re not going to make it.” She mouths, with a shake of her head.

You smirk, closing your eyes and relaxing into the seat. It’ll be nice while it lasts.

Before long you’re falling into a controlled crash, at the Saint Petersburg city limit.

“So,” Yelena jumps out onto the dirt. “Are we there yet?”

“No, you will know when we are there.” Alexei begins snorting like a pig.

——————————————————————-

You take a seat in the chair opposite Yelena inside Melina’s humble abode. Her pigs can be heard carrying on out in the yard and Alexei’s early snorting makes perfect sense now.

Your eyes dart around the three women at the table uncomfortably as noises continue erupting from the bathroom. “Everything alright in there?” You bellow, loud enough for your voice to carry down the hallway.

Another groan is the only response.

“Let’s drink,” Melina’s voice breaks the tension. She fills each of your shot glasses in turn.

“Thanks,” you raise the clear liquid and toss it back. Feeling it burn it’s way down your throat before going back for another.

After a moment a clunking from the doorway calls your attention.

“It still fits.” Alexei announces, having stuffed himself into his old costume.

Melina whistles, with a slow clasp as he approaches the seat at the head of the table. “I never washed it once. Come eat.”

He hums a tune under his breath, reliving days gone by. “Look at us, family back together again.” If you didn’t know better you’d think it was sweet, he seems…happy.

“Well,” Melina swallows, dishing mashed potatoes onto his plate. “Seeing as our family construct was just a calculated ruse that only lasted three years, I’m not sure we can use this term anymore.”

“Agreed,” Natasha perks up. “So here’s what’s going to happen-“

“Reunion then.” Alexei offers instead. “I want to say something right off the bat.” He says to the woman who’d once been his wife. “You haven’t aged a day. Just as beautiful and supple as the day they staged our marriage.”

Melina moves closer, “you got fat, but still good.”

“I just got out of prison,” he confesses, “I have a lot of energy.”

“Ooohooo.” The older woman exhales.

You can’t help the bubble of laughter that forces its way from your chest. Covering your mouth with your hand as Yelena takes another shot.

“Please don’t do that.” Beside you Natasha looks physically ill as she protests. Swallowing down her disgust she begins again. “So listen. Here’s what’s going to happen.”

“Natasha don’t slouch. You’re going to get a back hunch.” Melina flicks her fork in Natasha’s direction.

“What? I’m not slouching? I don’t slouch.”

“Eh, listen to your mother. Up! Up!” Alexei joins in.

“I told you, I don’t want any food.” Yelena pushes her plate away.

“Eat a little something Yelena, for God’s sake.” Melina says, piling food onto her plate.

Yelena groans.

“Are you kidding me? Stop it all of you. This is ridiculous.” Natasha bites out.

“Me? I didn’t do anything. That’s not fair!” Yelena argues.

“It’s true, she’s just sitting there.” You shrug.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” Natasha roars, effectively silencing the room. “You’re going to give us the location of the red room.”

Melina purses her lips, avoiding the topic. “It’s like when you told them they could stay up to catch Santa Claus.”

“That was fun!” Alexei recalls. “Look out girls, he comes down the chimney. And when the cookies are gone you know he is there.”

Melina clicks her tongue.

“What? I want them to follow their dreams, shoot for the stars girls.”

“No good.” Melina disagreed.

“Killing Dreykov isn’t a fantasy. It’s unfinished business.” Natasha looks between the two of them.

“You cannot defeat someone who commands the very will of others.” Melina says, softly. “You never got to see the culmination of what we started in America. After the perfect partner project was rejected, we took a different route.”

“The perfect partner project?” You repeat, racking your brain. You’ve heard that somewhere before.

“Why’d Dreykov scrap the project?” Natasha’s voice cracks like a whip.

“I don’t know.” Melina’s eyes dart down to her plate.

You can see that she’s lying.

“That’s when we turned our focus to chemical subjugation.” Melina continues, “the control is so profound that when the subject is instructed to stop breathing. They have no choice but to obey.”

Yelena shakes her head. Perfect lips turned into a frown. Hazel eyes glistening with tears as they meet your own.

“That’s enough.” You warn the older woman, seeing the expression. The last thing you want to do is cause her anymore pain.

“No.” The blonde insists. “Tell me more about the partner project.”

“Yelena, we don’t have to do this.” You shake your head.

“Yes, we do.” Yelena slams her fist against the table in frustration.

“The extraction was messy to start. A high profile missing children’s case in North America. But the bond was very strong. Enhanced through targeted conditioning and subliminal messages. Until something happened that Dreykov did not anticipate.”

“What happened?” Natasha wonders.

“The girls became…attached.” Melina’s mouth twitches, “so they were separated.”

“Do you know who they tested on?”

Melina’s guilty eyes land on you. “I am sorry.”

“No,” you suspected, maybe. Somewhere in the back of your mind. You spent the first six months in the red room under solitary confinement. Rapidly and rigorously conditioned in a matter of weeks instead of years. Preparing you…for her. The teenager girl you couldn’t stand, the woman you eventually came to love.

“You,” Yelena laughs, although it’s not particularly funny. “Us.”

“Yelena-“ you reach for her hand across the table.

“Don’t,” she snaps. “Don’t tell me that it will be ok. They stole your life because of me. I never asked them to do that. I never asked for you!”

“I know.” You assure her. None of this was ever her fault.

“That’s right, because you know everything. Don’t you, Y/N?” Yelena scoffs, her hands balling into fists on either side of her dinner plate. “You know what I think. You know what I feel. Look at you. Ready to come out of your own skin because I am unhappy. Prepared to move mountains, prepared to start wars.”

“Like you’re any better.” You challenge, she knows you like the back of her hand.

“That is my point!”

“I’m sorry that this happened.” Alexei interrupts. Surely gearing up for a ‘father of the year’ speech. “But we are here now. All together! Wasn’t that worth a few years of-“

“Shut up!” Natasha growls at him. “You are an idiot.”

No response.

She moves her attention to Melina, “and you’re a coward. You’re a coward. And our family was never real. So there’s nothing to hold on to. We’re moving on.”

“Never family, huh?” Alexei throws up his hands. “In my heart I am simple man. For a couple deep undercover Russian agents I think we did pretty great as parents.”

“Yes,” Melina nods her agreement. “We had our orders and we played our roles to perfection.”

“Who cares? That wasn’t real.”

“What?” Yelena’s voice breaks.

“That wasn’t real.” Natasha repeats for emphasis. “Who cares?”

“Don’t say that. Please don’t say that. It was real. It was real to me. You are my mother!” Yelena all but sobs. “You are my real mother, the closest thing I ever had to one. The best parts of my life were fake.” She pauses, drawing in a steadying breath. “And none of you told me.”

You swipe at the tear that escapes your eye. Traitorously running it’s way down your cheek. It was never fake. Perhaps arranged, but never fake. The way you want to wrap her up in your arms, protect her from her own sadness. The way your heart breaks in time with hers. That is real. It has to be.

She turns back to the woman who she considered a mother. “Those agents that you chemically subjugated around the globe…that was me too.”

Finally she addresses Natasha, “and you. You got out. It is impossible to escape. Are you going to say anything?” A pause. “No.”

She pushes her chair from the table, taking the bottle with her as she stands. Turning her back in the four of you.

“Yelena.” Natasha calls after her. Guilt eating away from the inside out.

“No.” Yelena dismisses her a second time. Moving into the next room and closing the glass doors behind her.

You look down at the plate of food in front of you, now lacking any appeal.

“I had no idea.” Melina whispers, wringing her hands.

“I’ll go to talk to her.” Alexei offers, rising to his feet.

“About what?” You hum, “how you handed her over to a life of pain and suffering at the age of six? How you experimented on her? How you didn’t come back for her? Yeah. I’m sure that’s just what she needs right now.”

With that you excuse yourself, back out to the front yard. Slowly circling the perimeter of Melina’s cottage. Not looking for anything in particular. Just killing time until someone produces information about how to get to Dreykov.

The blinding light that appears moments later catches you off guard. A team of men exit one of the three circling planes. Since you couldn’t find the red room, this is the next best thing.

—————————————————————

Waking up is disorienting, coming to from a tranquilizer always is. It’s bright, almost blindingly so. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust. You attempt to use your hands to cover them, only you can’t move your hands.

Leaning up as much as your restraints will allow you discover that you’re strapped to an operating table. And you’re not alone.

“Yelena?”

“Miss American Pie,” she drawls from a similar position. Neither of which gives you much chance to escape whatever fate awaits.

“You’re not allowed to die mad at me,” you grumble.

“I’m not mad at you.” She blinks slowly, as the surgeon marks a clean line at the perimeter of her hairline. “I’m just mad.”

“Yeah,” you let out a laugh, turning back to the light above the gurney. “Me too.”

“You are my perfect partner.” She murmurs, while gloved hands busy themselves with preparations. “I don’t know if that makes it better or worse.”

There’s a beat of silence between you. Acceptance…peace. “I love you, you know.”

At this Yelena smiles. A genuine, happy, smile. “I know.”

Something to remember her by.

The syringe at your neck releases a sedative into your blood and you fall asleep. One last time.

—————————————————————

Dying is peaceful, gently rocking in the ocean. Then swaying more violently, giving you the urge to be seasick. Your body should move with the force of it. But something holds you steady, something warm.

“Yelena?” You croak.

“Not quite, but there is resemblance, huh?” A different voice greets you.

“Alexei?” You realize, pushing yourself into a sitting position.

“That’s a girl, up you go.” He says, clapping a hand against your back.

“What happened?” You ask, “where’s Yelena?”

“Still inside,” Melina confirms. “Brought you here so you’d be safe.”

“Natasha?”

“They’re coming.”

You sigh, ready to jump out the open door of the hovering chopper.

“What are you doing?” Alexei demands.

“Going to find them.”

“Wait! Y/N, wait.” He pleads. “There’s something I must tell you. I tried to tell Yelena but I don’t have earpiece.”

“What?” Your brows furrow.

“Never mind that.” He shakes his head. “The point, is you were right. What you said about Yelena. We complete our mission, we move on. But losing her, losing my girls is my biggest regret.”

“I’ll tell her, don’t worry.” You give his shoulder a squeeze.

“Please let me finish.” He stops you again. “She carried your unconscious body through burning building, through explosions. This is not easy, you are very heavy.”

“Oh, Alexei!” Melina scolds him.

“Not that.” He amends, “you know what I mean. It is dead weight.”

You nod, “sure.”

“I look at you together and I see true love and I am happy. You are family now, and this time…we are going to stay together. We’re not leaving without you.” The older man says, helping you onto the metal grate of the falling red room.

Not a second later an explosion rings through your ears, sending Melina, Alexei and your get away vehicle spiraling to the ground.

“It’s the thought that counts,” you’ll make a new plan.

You run toward the flames and gunfire. “Yelena!” You call out, searching the surrounding area.

“Y/N,” Natasha finds you. “What are you doing?”

“I can’t find Yelena.”

“I thought she was with you.” The woman frowns.

“Well she wasn’t!” You bite out, fear and frustration getting the best of you.

“Don’t worry, we’ll find her. You go-“ the red head pauses. Her eyes focused on something behind your head.

You turn to follow Natasha’s gaze. Finding her. Yelena. The wild, unpredictable, firecracker of a woman. On the wing of the jet with Dreykov inside.

“Yelena! Stop!” You rush over, realizing what she’s about to do. Her staff poised at the propeller.

She pauses at the sound of your voice.

“He’s not worth it.” No one is worth it. Not when she is the cost.

Yelena smiles, eyes alight with mischief, “I love you, you know.”

“I know.”

Natasha tries to reason with her. “Don’t do it!”

“This was fun.” Yelena tells her sister, jamming the propeller and effectively destroying Dreykov’s jet. The force of the explosions sends her backwards, hurtling towards the ground with the remaining pieces of the red room.

“Put your pack on and jump.” Natasha tells you. Rushing for the nearest parachute. “I’m going to save my sister.” She dives head first over the edge, without putting on her harness.

“Not if I get there first,” you challenge. This would be a cool way to die.

Chapter Three: Bye Bye

[shoechoe]

Okay I want to make it clear that I have zero intent to bully or hate on this person but here's what I will say as A Diavolo Guy.

1) No definitive comment on this one, I think King Crimson is very hard to directly compare with other Stands in this way. I will say that its durability is canonically low and it goes down in a few hits when it can no longer dodge infinitely. Its time erasure can be countered by attacking in a circle as seen with Polnareff, but this was unable to be done effectively in just a 1v1. It is stated that it is weak against larger hordes of enemies which is why Diavolo waits to pick people off one by one.

2) I feel like it is impossible to quantify how The World and King Crimson would interact with each other when they never have in canon. I want to say it just depends on whoever has the quicker reflexes but it breaks my brain to think about.

3) No comment.

4) This is a broader story problem with Giorno's lack of coherent character motivation meaning the story is unable to make him a compelling protagonist nor have a compelling contrast to the main villain. I sort of agree in that its hyperfocus on the drug trade is a sign of its overly-simplistic understanding of what mafias really do. I will mention Diavolo is also depicted as abusing and underpaying his workers as well as brutally murdering them if they dissent even a little.

5) Okay he definitely did a lot more than that (his backstory, running the mafia in the first place, etc), but I guess I can understand this perspective as "The only immoral thing he did that A: puts him below the main cast in morality (they're all in the mafia, so that moral criticism is water under the bridge), B: is actively criticized by the main cast (the worker abuse is kind of just shown), C: isn't stupidly framed (drugs), and D: isn't a superfluous, removable detail just built to make you see him as more evil (backstory)"? But again, this is a broader sweeping story problem, not really specific to Diavolo's character.

I would also disagree with the idea that his enemies finding Trish would've 100% made them succeed in tracking him; in canon, the cast hit a complete dead end with all the information Trish has, and the only thing that saves them is Polnareff randomly coming in with information about Diavolo (again, a broader story problem). And even if this did succeed, Diavolo could've just as well sent her away and hidden her identity to keep her safe.

6) Again, broader sweeping story problem, the final fight just sucks. I disagree with calling any character a "Gary Stu"- I do think the story is afraid of exploring Giorno's beliefs more because doing so may make you question his position as the good guy, but in the end, Giorno is not that different from your average Shonen protag. I kind of agree in that Araki wrote himself into a corner with King Crimson and had to shoehorn in Requiem as a counter but failed to incorporate it in a compelling or non-frustrating way.

omg my friends showed me someone actually morally defending diavolo on the stardust crusaders reddit. it has zero upvotes and eighteen comments

[beardedmrbean]

Idk if you've seen anything about it but Neil gaiman has been making Twitter rounds trying to defend the RoP show basically amounting to him going around calling people who disagree with the changes racist and all the usual stuff. Leaves a sour taste in my mouth I can respect him as a author but its clear defending progressivism is more important then integrity.

all I've really seen is him being noncomittal about the show specifically, no expressed opinion one way or the other about the actual show just kinda going after critical people that have no real clue what goes into putting together a production like that.

Which is something he's got experience in, not just Good Omens either, how many different books of his have been adapted into movies and show. By brain is locking up on it but I know Coraline, Stardust, American Gods, Graveyard Book is on the way so him popping off on folks coming in trying to start something between him and Musk.

That's the main one i've seen, I don't see a single word up there praising the show, not criticism, just Neil being snarky.

First time I saw that one, one of the captions on the post was unhappy that Neil was praising the show, I'd like someone to point out where he did that.

Also side note: In Musks defense here, he dropped the twitter deal at least in part because the disclosure of the % of bot accounts was wayyyyy off the mark that was one of the main things for that at least.

This is new to me

haven't seen any of the implied stuff you mentioned so as always opinion is subject to change based on new evidence but for right now I'm not seeing a whole lot of negative stuff coming from the guy.

I really hope it's exaggerated, I really really really like seeing the guy on here he's been our celebrity user for so long, wil is here but he's a massive douchebag so he doesn't count.

[the-marsh-harrier]

Who was Orion Black? (Pt 5) Orion Black x Female!Reader

A/N: I wanted to explore Sirius’s childhood more in a non-traditional sense and give Orion and Walburga some interesting character development. This takes place after Sirius has broken out of Azkaban. Although this is a reader insert in parts, it is not the main focus and some chapters will have little or no mention of the reader. I have also altered the year Walburga was born to be 1940 instead of 1925 as it states in cannon (this is my fanfic and I’ll do what I want with the characters that are in it). Similarly, in some of the chapters to come, I already know I will upset some people with the way I portray Sirius and Walburga’s relationship - remember everyone is entitled to portray fictional characters as they want in their fanfics and if you disagree, please write your own. JKR's bigotry and opinions are not welcome here nor supported.

Masterlist Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 (Part 5) Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

Somewhere Over the Rainbow

Sirius had spent the last twenty minutes racking his brain trying to work out how this was possible. Orion Black, Orion Phineas Black not only knew of Somewhere Over the Rainbow, but he also decided to learn it and write his own rendition of it. This made no sense. This was muggle music. Sirius hadn’t believed Walburga when she had told him that his father worked with muggles or that he enjoyed muggle music, but he couldn’t have worked on the Wizard of Oz… he was too young. Not to mention the fact that Melania and Arcturus – Orion’s parents – would not have allowed him to see the Wizard of Oz as a child. So, the question remained, why Somewhere Over the Rainbow?

Finally, at the end of his rope searching for answers, Sirius captured the old memory and placed it back into its bottle. Casting the sheet music for the rendition onto the piano so its soft melody could fill the air; Sirius was ready for the next memory dated Thursday 30th April 1953.

***

This memory was strong. It was already prepared when Sirius found his feet outside of the cinema. The rain was beating down on London’s streets, muggles were darting around but it wasn’t long until Sirius saw a quick flash in the alley behind him signally the apparition of a wizard.

Peering down into the alley, he saw a rather nervous looking Orion taking a few moments to collect himself. Orion wasn’t a tall man, barely standing at five foot ten inches, more so that his broad build gave him a commanding presence. He had striking eyes with a light grey iris that faded into a darker brown ring near his pupil. His wavy, ebony hair was concealed under a black woollen homburg hat so only the short back and sides were visible. His hat created a shadow that concealed his sharp, angular features and freshly shaved jawline from the small lantern hanging in the alley. Orion looked like he could’ve been one of the great 1950s film stars. He wore a long grey trench coat which was fitted at the shoulders and draped down into the straight-line silhouette. Evidence of a mixed-grey tweed suit jacket, white shirt and black tie peeked out from under his large open coat. His black slacks stopped just shy of his shiny black shoes which could have doubled as mirrors

Contrary to how Sirius remembered Orion, he seemed to put a lot of care into his appearance and what he wore. To be perfectly honest, Sirius didn’t mind being compared to his father when he was younger if this is how people remembered him – he was quite impressed with how well his father could scrub up. The only article that Sirius took aversion to adorned Orion’s left pinkie finger; it was the Black family signet ring, the gold band glistened in the minuscule light whereas the onyx stone stamped with the family crest acted as blackhole to any light that hit its surface.

“Right, you’ve got everything. Muggle money in the front pocket of your wallet, regular money in the back pocket.” Sirius watched as Orion listed off and double-checked everything he had. “Cinema tickets in your jacket top pocket.” Orion reached inside his suit jacket and nodded. “You’ve got everything you need.” Orion gave himself one final nod before walking out of the alley; he was walking with so much determination that Sirius didn’t have time to move out of his way, so Orion morphed right through him.

Sirius quickly spun around and followed behind him. The two stopped just outside of the cinema. Orion kept his hat pulled down and his hands in his coat pockets, his left foot was slightly tapping to expel some of his nervous energy. Sirius, on the other hand, was eagerly looking through the crowd of faceless people that shuffled past the pair; his head bobbing up and down to find any person that possessed distinctive features. That’s the funny thing about watching other people’s memories, you only see what they deem important enough to remember.

Sirius’s game was quickly over when he saw a similar flash from the same alley that Orion had just stood in which you emerged from a few seconds after. From the corner of his eye, Sirius noticed Orion straighten slightly and remove his hands from his pockets; the frown he wore a few moments prior lifted into a warm smile awakening the dimples in his cheeks – Sirius had never seen his father smile like that before, but he couldn’t blame him. You looked stunning, in that timeless kind of way.

You emerged from the alley slightly jogging your way through the rain with your umbrella in hand, your kitten heels making a distinct clicking every time your heel struck the floor. Your black cigarette-style trousers hugged your legs tightly and your ruby-red trench coat made you stand out in the sea of brown, grey and black bodies around. Poking out from the top of your coat was evidence of a high necked black knitted jumper and a small heart-shaped pendant looped on a thin golden chain. The signature 50s bright red lipstick and slightly smoked out dark shadow finished off the look perfectly.

“So sorry I’m a bit late, the last court hearing dragged on longer than expected.” You smiled apologetically.

“You needn't worried about apologising, I haven't been waiting long." Orion's smile seemed to grow slightly wider.

You smiled back before motioning around you. “Such terrible weather we’re having for this time of year, isn’t it?”

"Couldn’t agree more, it hasn’t stopped raining all week!” Orion chuckled. “I’m hoping it brightens up for the weekend – I’m supposed to be playing at my friend Tenneth’s wedding on Saturday and the whole thing is outside.”

“Hopefully, it clears up for it. Nothing worse than an outdoor wedding in the rain.” You smiled. “Despite the weather, I have to admit, I have been looking forward to this date since we agreed on it last week.”

“As have I.” Orion eagerly nodded back before checking his watch. “Shall we go inside now? The film is due to start in five minutes.”

“Oh yes! What is it that we're going to see?” you asked, turning your head to try to get a glimpse of the tickets. You had deliberately left all the organising of your cinema date to Orion to see how committed he was to his family views and to your surprise, he accepted the challenge willingly.

“Umm…” Looking down at the ticket stubs in his hand. “Something called the Wizard of Oz. The ticket vendor said it was an old film but worth a watch since neither of us had been to the pictures before… I think he meant cinema though, as I will be disappointed if it is just still pictures on the screen with it being older.” Orion had his eyebrows furrowed, glaring slightly at the tickets. Sirius had to laugh at this comment, his father really was clueless when it came to muggles and their inventions.

“I’m sure it will be brilliant! Oh, I’m so excited.” You gushed as you walked into the cinema. You’d never been to a muggle cinema before. You heard they were so clever. Your friend, (Y/F/N), described it like watching magical portraits but you can’t talk to them as the actors on screen can’t hear you. They did warn you that although the actors couldn’t hear the audience, it didn’t stop people calling out but it was customary to stay as quiet as possible. “One of my friends went on a date with a muggle to see a film before but they saw The Happiest Day of Your Life. (Y/F/N) assured me that there is nothing more magical than the atmosphere in the cinema.”

“Well, hopefully, you’ll feel the same after this.” Orion said with a slight smile as he held open one of the doors for you into the viewing area. “You never know. You might convert me to coming here regularly should you like to be my viewing partner.” A slight blush crept onto your cheeks at his words.

“Oh, come on now!” you giggled. “let’s find our seats before it starts! I don’t want to miss a second of it.” You moved past him, grabbing his hand on the way, and pulling him along into the viewing area.

***

Now the film was finished and you were walking out, Sirius had to admit that he was surprised as to how much of that film his father had remembered. There were a few bits that were amiss or where the screen went an odd blur of colours or the sound muffled but for the most part, it was very impressive. Little did Sirius know at the time, but the Wizard of Oz became a special movie for you and Orion, one that you watched regularly whenever it was on television or in a local cinema for a vintage-night showing.

“I have to say, their depiction of witches and wizards were completely wrong and some of the creatures were a tad off, but I thoroughly enjoyed the story.” Orion confessed as the pair of you were walking along one of London’s side streets and thankfully, the rain had finally stopped. He had been listening to you gush over how smart the muggles that made it must have been and how beautiful Dorothy was.

“I must find a way to charm myself a pair of those ruby slippers! They were incredible! Three clicks and you’re home!” It was undoubtedly a brilliant film to see. Plus, if he had to admit it, Orion agreed with your friend – at least partially, the atmosphere in the cinema was as close to magic as muggles could get. “Well, what was your favourite song from it then?” You questioned.

Orion chuckled. “I did rather enjoy If Only I Had a Brain. But then again, Ding Dong the Wicked Witch is Dead was quite amusing. I might play it at my mother’s funeral.”

Even you had to snort back a laugh at that. If there certainly was a wicked witch – it would be Melania Black. Anyone you had asked about the Black family, since meeting Orion, had never mentioned a nice word about her. “Oh stop! We shouldn’t laugh at such a thing!” You sniggered.

“Knowing her, it probably would take a house to fall on her head to kill her off! She’ll outlive us all!” Orion laughed and you couldn’t help but join him. Little did Orion, or Sirius, know at the time but he was right, Malania really would outlive all of them, even Sirius. As your laughter quietened down, he began to speak again. “What was your favourite song then?”

“Oh, that’s easy! Somewhere Over the Rainbow. It’s so dreamy and beautiful. A world full of colour and life way above the chimney tops.” You pointed up to the night sky. “Where all our troubles and worries are behind us. Isn’t that what we are all searching for?” you spun to face Orion and continued to walk backwards. “Where everything just feels right beyond reason.”

Smirking, Orion reached forward to grab your hands and interlock your fingers together. “What do you make of continuing our conversation about somewhere over the rainbow in this little music bar I know?”

You hummed in response as you freed your hands from Orion’s to lace them around the back of his neck. “What might this place be called then?” You enquired.

“Have you heard of the Dwarvish Gentleman before?” Orion quirked his eyebrow as hands moved to hold your waist.

“Indeed, I have.” You smirked. “I’ll let you take the lead in getting us there, Mr Black.” And with the swirl of Orion apparating the pair of you elsewhere; the memory too swirled its way out of existence.

[nefertittythegreat]

My thoughts didn't fit in a reply but here's my rebuttal:

Ooo some really good stuff here! Really got my brain juices flowing. Ok, here's what I disagree on. I don't believe that narrative wants us readers to believe he's perfect. In fact, it's pointed out many times that he's not. it's Myne who believes he's perfect. Kazuki is actually really good at making us believe whatever Myne believes. In context to Yogurtland, she's often wrong, and she's not a very reliable narrator. Myne has a tendency to put the people she considers family on a pedestal(look at how she regards Tuuli) and this especially true for Ferdinand. And between her and Ferdinand's accolades in the academy, the younger generation has no choice but to believe he is the unattainable perfection they should strive towards but I believe most of Ferdinand's peers and the older nobles know better.

You spent a good portion of the post comparing Ferdinand to various characters, specifically villians. I believe, in this case, the comparison to be a false equivalent because Ferdinand is not a villain. He does not hold the same place in the narrative as the characters you mentioned and therefore they can not be compared. Other characters like Lelouch(Code Geass), Sasuke Uchiha(Naruto), Revy(Black Lagoon) and Hiei(YuYu Hakusho) are more similar to Ferdinand and the place he holds in the narrative and more comparable. But I understood your point with your comparisons, these villains have done unspeakable things and you still like them better than Ferdinand. But why do you like these villains? Why do you find them interesting? I can tell you personally from the ones I know about(Danzo, Orochimaru, and Akito) I don't find them interesting at all. Hurt people hurting doesn't interest me at all, and I could care less about your sad poor little meow meow backstory if you're not an interesting character to me.

These characters have done something in story that caught your eye and Ferdinand didn't. Or the fandom’s woobiefication of him has caused you to go from neutral to dislike. I won't speculate, its up to each person to inner reflect on their thoughts. So are we supposed to like Ferdinand? Yes and no. We are supposed to love him because Myne loves him(here comes Kazuki again with the POV hypnosis)He quickly jumps up to family with Myne through their interactions and as she has to navigate the world of nobility he becomes her only confidant. And this is all before we get his Backstory or well the worse parts of it. We are already supposed to love him. His backstory isn't supposed to endear him to us anymore because like Myne we have long since loved this Strange little man. That despite his flaws, His rudeness, his cold demeanor, his harsh words, we love him anyway. His Backstory only puts into context some of his more odd behaviors. And make the sting of of his leaving Ehrenfest even more painful.

Ferdinand's main sin is really just being an asshole. Personally, I still believe he'd be an asshole if he had a well-adjusted childhood, but that's just me. I love Asshole characters, characters who are just mean for the sake of being mean(I mean I've been in love with Sasuke Uchiha for 15 years if that puts into perspective) and his unlikeableness just makes him all the more appealing to me. I wouldn't call his behavior abusive but I would call him hard-headed and short-sighted.He doesn't listen. He's incapable of listening to anyone whose name isn't Rozemyne(and just barely so)because he thinks he's always right, and too be fair he usually is. In this post you hint that he hurts because he has been hurt, but I don't believe that to be true. Its far too sentimental for Ferdinand. He accepts his past as fact. And while it explains some of his behaviors he doesn't really dwell on it like Akito does her Mothers's abuse and Shigure’s “betrayal”. She hurts because its all she knows. She wants to feel powerful so she makes those around her feel powerless. Ferdinand doesn't need to feel powerful, he doesn't belittle to make himself bigger. He is already powerful and he knows that. The reason he so often punches down is because you do not meet his standards, he does not care where your from or why you don't meet them but if you don't he will let you know. He's that asshole professor from uni that you could never hope to impress. You could write an award-winning article, praised by all and the dick would still only give you a C+. He’ll never change too, and just your luck he’s tenured and you have to take 3 of his classes. I'm not saying these are good things, but I am saying this is 100% purposeful. These flaws are permanent because that's not what he learns during the course of the series. What he learns is to let himself live. Ferdinand has lived his whole life for someone else. This also explains his passivity. I've written before that Ferdinand lacks ambition and for a character so talented and capable and hyper-competent its rare to see, especially when it's not the main character. This is what makes him interesting to me.

I hope you understand why me and maybe some other people like Ferdinand. I mean I'm just a masochistic freak who likes men who will be mean to her but he has other good qualities too. He's not perfect or nice but he's Ferdinand and that's what I like about him 🥰

Thoughts on ferdinand?

Short answer: Don't like that guy.

Beyond this point is the body of the post where I may rail on your favorite character. This post is clearly-labeled and easy to avoid. If you choose to read on despite me making it clear what my opinion is, you do not have to right to vague me in a condescending manner as you may or may not have done with another post of a similar kind. Just avoid this. It's not that hard. I'm making the fandom ecosystem a little more varied, is all. Us Detlinde fans, Sylvester lovers, and Raublut sympathizers have had to sit and bear with it as the fandom paraded our faves and hurled shit at them. If we have had to endure that, surely you can endure One (1) post that criticizes your fave who is widely loved by everyone else and is also put under a cut. Don't start insulting me for criticizing a character when you've gotten mad at me for responding to insults with anger.

Surely a fandom that condescended to us for reading something we disagree with will understand the point I am making here :)

Aight now that that's out of the way, I can finally get to the meat of the post for all the big-brained people who chose to continue.

Reasons why I think Ferdinand sucks have been touched on in these posts (A B) so I don't really have all that much to say about that outside of reiterating what those posts said.

I tried, y'all. I tried so hard to like him. Everyone else loved him and I wanted to see what they were seeing.

But I couldn't.

He's an abusive jackass who doesn't see that the people around him do love him, can't be allowed near children, doesn't bother lifting other people up he just expects them to be already good. His memory trip with Myne changed nothing about how he saw her or other kids “her age”. He doesn't even seem to like most parts of her, he just seems to like that she's on his level and that she'd protect him.

And the problem is that. I wouldn't hate him nearly as much if only the story or the fandom acknowledged his dickishness. It's not that I'm unfamiliar or can't handle heavy topics, either— I am a victim of lifelong abuse in a country that's been on fire for as long as it's existed. I Been Knew, buddy.

Vincent Nightray from Pandora Hearts is a misogynistic little prick who lies and tricks and betrays people to get to his goal. He may or may not also be a transphobic allegory. But I love him! He's one of my favorite characters from the manga! How could this be? Because his flaws matter. Because both the story and the audience understand that he's not just the poorest little man. He kinda is, but I love him because he's a messy character full of flaws. It makes him interesting. Also because his struggles and storyline involving guilt and suicidal ideation resonated deeply with me.

I absolutely fucking adore Sohma Akito from Fruits Basket. She is so fucking abusive to so many characters and… the story knows that! It acknowledges that! She's, like Vincent, a fucking mess! But the way her backstory explains her entire thing but doesn't excuse it, the way she's such a realistic exploration of abuse both as perpetrator and victim, is so interesting! She's so interesting! Fruits Basket as a whole is just. It's good. It's excellent. It even has a counselor and an artist analyzing the symbolism, art direction, and psychology of the characters on YouTube. You should give that podcast a listen. It's by the channel ThoughtBubble. (Ferdinand's “trauma” could become a realistic exploration of the consequences of such a fucked up life, how he passes on the hurt to the younger generation, if only the story let it but… everyone just uses that trauma card to woobify him and excuse him and go “oh poor Ferdinand” on him like a pity party, which I don't like. Again, the potential is there and I could like it, but the way the fandom treated his trauma is so viscerally off-putting to me that my faith in his potential plummeted and I “hate” him by their definition instead)

How about Orochimaru? Irredeemable terrifying bastard villain WHO TRAFFICKS AND EXPERIMENTS ON CHILDREN. There's discussion of how the military state exploited him and he went off the deep end and it was excused when it still benefited the state but became a crime as soon as it became for himself, but largely people agree that he cannot be excused. And he's one of my favorite fucking characters.

Shimura Danzo? Y'all don't need a primer on that fucker everyone hates him he's terrible he's problematic and I love him. One of the characters of all time.

How about Senju Butsuma? Specifically, the rendition of Senju Butsuma in a fic written by my friend. He's still abusive, he literally has a scene of beating the crap out of his sons on-screen in the fic— that scene triggered me by the way but it just goes to show how well-written it is, my friend the author specifically mentioned that he didn't want to trivialize abuse but also didn't want to turn it into a sympathy-bait pity party for the Senju brothers— and? He's my babygirl. He's everything.

Prospera Mercury? Fucking war criminal milf with Issues? She uses both her children as weapons even as she claims she's doing it all for one of them? Massacres people? And? I love her????? She's so messy she's got Problems she's not good for her daughters. And that makes her infinitely delicious. Easily one of my favorites of all time.

So it's not that I hate characters who are jackasses. It's not that I hate flawed, messy characters. I love them! I love them even when canon doesn't. I love them even when the fandom doesn't. I would never try to excuse or absolve them (I mean, I'd like to see any of you try to excuse Danzo??) I try to give these characters the justice they deserve when I'm discussing them with people. But I… can't do that with Ferdinand. Any discussion of his character in a way that doesn't fit their very narrow view of “the biggest victim in the world who is also the strongest most badass man ever” immediately gets clotheslined into “hate”. Even the mildest of criticisms, even the most politely-worded posts get misinterpreted, misconstrued, and ultimately declared as senseless petty hate. Heck, even people who like him a lot get shunned and ostracized from the fandom if their interpretation is too different from the Fandom Majority's! So yes! By the fandom's very definition, I hate him! I hate him most immensely! I hate the parts of him that the narrative and the fandom choose to highlight as opposed to the more interesting bits! I hate that he takes up all the oxygen in the room whenever anyone discusses Veronica's abuse and her victims! He's not the only victim, but everyone acts as though he is!

So yes, tldr: I hate him. If only he could've been written by a better author like Mochizuki Jun or Takaya Natsuki. Fuck, even as much as I gripe about Arakawa Hiromu, even she could've handled him better.

[kk095]

Alyssa in Trauma

*hey everyone! I wanted to try writing a story with original, recurring characters with more of a 1st person perspective. Let me know what you think! Enjoy!*

It was a slow weeknight in our small community ER. It was just me, the head veteran nurse Nancy, nurse Ashley, nurse heather, and Dr Lindsay. The 5 of us were doing our part holding down the ER that night. We had a few minor cases- a kid who sprained his ankle skateboarding, back pain in exam room 2, and one of our frequent fliers in exam room 3 for who knows what this time.

A little after 8pm, the nurses station gets a call from dispatch. I can see Nancy nodding and responding to the voice on the other end of the phone, but I couldn’t initially make out what was being said. After the brief call, Nancy looked at me and gave me a rundown of the situation: “listen up everyone. We have a 26 year old female involved in a single car crash, possible chest and abdominal trauma. She’s hypotensive and tachycardic, and EMS intubated her on scene. ETA is 5 minutes.”

All of us quickly sprung into action at that point. I ordered the nurses to prep trauma room 1 and gather whatever supplies we may need for this particular case. While the nurses were getting things ready, me and Dr Lindsay put on a yellow trauma gown and a fresh pair of gloves. “make sure we have some unmatched o-neg, FFP, and platelets. And make sure surgery and radiology are on standby for us.” Dr Lindsay told the team, to which nurse Nancy nodded.

The following few minutes came and went quickly. We could hear the sound of the ambulance’s sirens grow louder and louder as it approached the hospital. The trauma room was quiet- the calm before the storm I suppose. We knew the patient was in rough shape, but we didn’t know what exactly to expect. Regardless, we were prepared for whatever was going to be thrown at us.

The ambulance pulled just outside the ERs main entrance and the medics wheeled the patient into the hospital and into our trauma room. To our surprise, one of the medics was performing CPR on the patient upon arrival. “26 year old female, restrained driver in single car MVC. Blunt chest trauma, lost vitals en route. Down 4 minutes, shocked ×2, meds ×1. PEA on the monitors.” The lead medic told us while the other delivered deep, violent chest compressions. “ok, let’s transfer her on my count. 1… 2… THREE!” I called out.

The patient was now on the table and under the overhead light. I looked down at the battered young woman lying on our table. Her name was Alyssa. She’s a 26 year old blonde with blue eyes, with a pretty face and a chubby build. She was just driving home from work when she swerved to avoid hitting a kid that ran out into the street, oblivious to Alyssa’s car, but slammed her car into a light post in the process.

Once Alyssa was on the table, the medics left the room and we began running our trauma code. Nurse heather resumed chest compressions, nurse nancy was ambu bagging, and nurse ashley got the next rounds of epi and atropine ready. Dr Lindsay and I decided to order some tests: STAT trauma labs, a chest x ray, and a FAST scan. After ashley injected the next round of meds, she drew the trauma labs while Dr Lindsay got the ultrasound machine ready. While that was going on, I set up the portable x ray for the chest x ray. The chest x ray showed sternum and rib fractures associated with CPR, but nothing else noticeable. Dr Lindsay then performed an echo. “oh boy, look at all that blood in the pericardium. Massive cardiac tamponade.” She said, shaking her head looking at the ultrasound monitor. “let’s do a pericardiocentesis.” She continued. “I disagree. She’s already in cardiac arrest and that’s a huge tamponade. I think we need to do a thoracotomy.” I responded to Dr Lindsay. “I don’t know Dr Kenny, I think we should do a pericardiocentesis and see if her condition improves. If not, then we do a thoracotomy.” Lindsay replied. “I don’t think we have time to wait. Thoracotomy is the way to go here.” I said, standing my ground. There was a pause for a moment. “I agree with Dr Kenny.” Nurse Nancy said, breaking the silence in the room. Nurse Nancy has been an ER nurse for over 20 years and she’s seen it all, so everyone trusted her judgement when she spoke up.

Dr Lindsay and I looked at each other for a moment and nodded in agreement. “Ok, let’s get a thoracotomy tray set up please.” Dr Lindsay ordered. Once the order was made, Ashley and I began setting up the proper equipment. Meanwhile, nurse Heather kept performing deep, strong chest compressions on Alyssa. The patient’s chest caved in and her belly bounced outwards. Her eyes were half open, staring blankly above while one of her arms dangled off the side of the table, bouncing in sync with each individual compression.

I picked up a 10 blade scalpel off of the thoracotomy tray while Ashley splashed Alyssa’s chest with betadine. While heather kept delivering chest compressions, I made a quick, decisive incision in the 5th intercostal space starting at the sternum. I extended the incision laterally across the young woman’s bare chest. Ashley retracted Alyssa’s large, d cup left breast to give me room to continue the incision. Once I extended the incision past the breast, I continued across to the mid axillary line, just a few inches shy of her left armpit. I had to make a 2nd incision I the same general area to separate the underlying fat and tissue. Once the tissue was adequately separated, I placed a rib spreader into the incision area and began twisting the knobs, forcing the young woman’s ribs apart. A loud popping and cracking sound filled the already hectic trauma room from Alyssa’s ribs being forced apart.

After her chest was adequately opened, heather stepped away, stopping CPR. I took my scalpel and made a vertical incision into the pericardium, performing a pericardiotomy in order to release the tamponade and deliver the heart. After cutting the fibrous lining of Alyssa’s heart, there was a collection of thick, gooey, coagulated blood that came out. Ashley suctioned away the coagulated blood, only for my line of sight to be filled with a large amount of fresh blood. “what a mess.. let me take a look.” Dr Lindsay said, forcing herself into my position, reaching into Alyssa’s exposed chest cavity. While Lindsay was sorting things out, I placed a vascular clamp on the descending aorta in order to redirect bloodflow to the heart, lungs, and brain- a common practice during ER thoracotomies to limit damage elsewhere and to potentially buy the patient time during the resuscitation.

Ashley suctioned out the blood that obstructed the line of sight, revealing Alyssa’s motionless heart. “starting cardiac massage.” Dr Lindsay called out. She wrapped her hands around Alyssa’s motionless heart, placing her thumbs on the left ventricle. She then began squeezing the heart, pushing her thumbs in an upwards motion in the process. “1… 2… 3… come on hun…” Dr Lindsay said, looking down at Alyssa, as if she was trying to convince her patient not to die. Lindsay continued internal massage while nurse Nancy stood at the head of the bed ambu bagging. “let’s get another dose of meds in. Hopefully we can get a shockable rhythm that way.” I called out to the team. Nurse heather went over and got the meds and injected them into the patient’s IV line. Meanwhile, Lindsay continued internal massage. “something doesn’t feel right. Her heart feels almost empty.” She said to me. “let me take a look.” I replied, inching my way closer. Lindsay continued internal compressions while I probed around in the young woman’s chest, trying to see if I can figure out what her injuries were. While I was examining the area, her heart began to fibrillate in Dr Lindsay’s hands. “ok! She’s in v-fib. Let’s get the internal paddles and charge to 20.” She called out.

Nurse Ashley charged the internal paddles to 20 joules, and handed them to me. Everyone backed away from the patient while I placed the paddles around Alyssa’s weakly fidgeting heart. “ok. Everyone… CLEAR!” I called out, delivering the shock. A dull, wet thump was heard from the shock. Alyssa’s torso flopped and her breasts jiggled in response to the jolt of electricity. “no change. Let’s shock again at 30.” I called out. Once the paddles were recharged, I lowered them back into the 26 year old’s chest, and delivered the 2nd shock. Alyssa’s toes curled at the other end of the table in response to the shock, showing off thick, silky wrinkles throughout the soles of her size 10 feet. “No change Dr Kenny" heather tells me, shaking her head while looking at the monitor. “ok. Let’s recharge the paddles to 30 and shock again.” I ordered. Nurse ashley recharged the zoll internal paddles to 30j and handed me the blood stained paddles for the next shock. Everyone backed away before the shock, knowing what was coming. This particular shock caused Alyssa’s torso to jolt sharply on the table, but v-fib persisted. “Damn it… still v-fib. Let’s push another dose of meds and shock again. This time we should shock at 40.” I told the team. Once again, we recharged the paddles, lowered them into Alyssa’s chest, and shocked her again. The same dull, wet thump was heard. Alyssa’s lifeless body twitched sharply on the table in response to the more intense shock, but her heart stopped in its tracks after that shock. “shit. Asystole on the monitor. Resuming internal massage" dr Lindsay called out, acting decisively.

Dr Lindsay reached hands back into the young lady’s chest and began pumping her heart manually. “1… 2… 3… come on Alyssa…” Dr Lindsay said to herself, thinking out loud. Alyssa’s heart felt flaccid and empty in dr Lindsay’s hands. There was a definite contrast between feeling Alyssa’s warm heart and her cold, clammy skin. Her complexion faded rapidly, and her beautiful blue eyes remained half open, with a blank expression on her face.

Dr Lindsay messaged Alyssa’s heart for several minutes to no avail. “let’s push another round of meds. And dr Kenny, how about you take over internal compressions for me? Maybe you’ve got the magic touch.” She said with an undertone of sarcasm. I nodded and took over compressions for my coworker. I reached my hands into Alyssa’s chest. I looked down and saw her heart motionless in my hands- something that’s odd to see in a previously healthy 26 year old. I started pumping her heart with my own 2 hands, desperately trying to bring the young woman back. But I knew the odds grew less and less likely as time went on. “hey, we’re out of FFP. Should I get another unit?” nurse heather asked us. “no honey, let’s hold onto it for someone we can actually save. You know how fast that blood bank can empty out on a busy day.” Nurse nancy replied, implying that Alyssa was pretty much a goner. “She’s young though, we should keep trying at least a little longer.” I said to the team, trying to improve morale.

I massaged the patient’s heart for several minutes to no avail. We maxed her out on meds in that timeframe, and nurse nancy noted that Alyssa had fixed and dilated pupils. At that point, I held compressions and the monitors went flat. “alright… does anyone object to calling this code?” I asked everyone in the trauma room. I was met with silence and a couple people shaking their head “no.” I then nodded and said “ok. Time of death, 20:46. Thank you all for your efforts.”

Nurse nancy detached the ambu bag and shut Alyssa’s eyes for the final time. Nurse heather switched off the flatlined monitors and began removing the EKG electrodes from the patient’s bare chest. I removed the thoracotomy equipment from the patient’s body, while dr Lindsay started removing her gloves and trauma gown, walking out of the ER feeling defeated. Nurse ashley removed all the IVs and started filling out the toe tag. On the blank tag, she wrote: “Collins, Alyssa. DOB 8/26/95, DOD 10/3/21, time of death 20:26, cause of death: Blunt SVC dissection. After filling out the tag, she placed it on the big toe of Alyssa’s left foot. The tag tangled in front of her soft, wrinkly soles while a sheet was placed over her battered body. At that point, I began to remove my equipment and head out of the room. Nurse nancy and nurse Ashley then wheeled the stretcher out of the trauma room to transport alyssa to the hospital morgue while heather stayed back and cleaned the trauma room and prep it for the next patient. It’s never easy losing a patient, but it’s par for the course when you work in trauma. We have to compose ourselves and move on to the next patient.

[americasmarauders]

ivy--Jason ToddxFem!Reader

author’s note: once upon a time there was a tiny Luíza who thought it was a good idea to wirite a royal!au. She spent 3 months working on it, but she couldn’t make justice to the words in her head so she gave up on it. Then she watched Bridgerton and decided to give the draft another chance; 

so yeah this is a royal!au. this is also my first mature work. nothing explicit just a mention of the devil’s tango. 

BEWARE: minors: there is nothing explicit, but there is a mention of sex towards the end, so read it with discretion. I would classify this as a 16+

words: 11,071

the link to my masterlist is here and the link to my jason playlist is here

#

#

This was a business transaction, she kept reminding herself.

         There were lives on the line, lives she had sworn to protect. It was her duty as the princess to guarantee the continuity and longevity of her bloodline and, above all else, her subjects. And the proposition presented to her guaranteed both of those.

         She saw it coming. Her Father’s lavish spending sprees, buying fights with people he shouldn’t. The vault had emptied—not completely, although it wasn’t nowhere near the same state it once was—and the people had suffered. She inherited the mess.

         Her kingdom, her prized kingdom, so brilliant, so beautiful, was in ruins. Because of an ego too big. She wasn't going to let that happen again. 

         The Wayne’s presented as the exit. The kingdom of Gotham neighbored her own, it would be convenient for them to incorporate hers. But above all else, king Bruce wasn’t looking for lands, he wanted knowledge, something her kingdom had plenty to spare.

         He wanted the kingdom of scholars to be his own. He wanted to stop the gangs, the barbaric gangs that destroyed her precious land, and he needed help from her scholars. Bruce gave her a business offer too hard to refuse. But there’s always a catch.

         ‘She’ll marry into the family,’ he wrote in his letter to the Queen, her mother. ‘My second son, he’s the Captain of the Royal Guards, he’s the one to take my throne. She’ll be a fine Queen, and with her knowledge, Y/N will help defeat this evil lurking in our shadows’.

         At first, she refused. She wanted to do it, but not at the cost of her future, not at the cost of her love. But she cooled her head. She couldn’t let her selfishness get in the way of the kingdom’s prosperity. So, she sent a letter to King Bruce. She accepted, at the condition they would do whatever it takes to preserve her tradition of knowledge. If to preserve her kingdom and give her people a relief she had to sell herself, then she would gladly do it

 #

 #

Gotham was nowhere near as beautiful as her kingdom. It had its charm, she could see why someone would like it, but it didn’t have the same ethereal air to it. On the contrary, it was quite gray and moody.

         She guessed it went along with the family running it. The Wayne’s were famous for being an overly serious, and, quite honestly, incredibly brooding family. King Bruce adopted 6 children—and rumors went around that only one of them was biological; a bastard—and all of them had varying levels of moodiness. She was to marry the second one: Prince Jason, Prince of Park Row.

         For a long time, he was the cautionary tale that was told to the children of the royal families. The Prince gone wrong, he snapped, rebelled, and, to many, he had fallen from grace. It was only a few years back he had resurfaced to the public attention as the one who was to be the next king. What happened between being the fallen Prince to being the heir was a mystery, one she wasn't sure she wanted to unveil.

         She looked at the windows, seeing the tiny rock houses and the calm villagers walking around under the daylight. She knew that once the night fell, things would change and the streets would be filled with those she yearned to eradicate.

         “You do not have to go through with this, my daughter,” her Mother started, once again trying to convince you of backing out of the deal. “We can find another way.”

         “There isn’t,” she answered. Her Mother opened her mouth to try to argue. “Don’t, Mother. You raised me to do what was right by my kingdom and its people and continuing by ourselves isn’t the answer.”

         “You are not sure about that,” Mother said, condescending in her words.

         “Don’t patronize me, Mother,” she shot back, her tone controlled. “I know this isn’t the ideal situation, but our situation wasn’t ideal to begin with,” she inhaled, her gaze shifting to the window of the carriage. “If Father hadn’t been so careless, we wouldn’t be here, and I would have turned down King Bruce’s proposal.”

         “I know,” Mother agreed quietly. “I feel for our loss of freedom, that’s all.”

         “This isn’t a loss of freedom. This is a new beginning. This is our chance to right our wrongs. Is there more freedom than that?” she responded, putting an end to this conversation as the carriage approached the castle.

         It was incredible and grandiose, far more than her family’s castle. It was fitting, she’d heard once from Elizabeth, one of the ladies in her court, that the Waynes vault was enormous. She didn’t know how she knew but seeing the castle alone she believed it.

         The carriage pulled to a stop, the door opening for her exit. Mother went first accepting the help from the coachman. She got out gracefully next, and the coachman closed the door behind her. She saw two men standing approaching. The older one had an austere air to him, but as he got nearer, she saw the crinkles next to his eyes, indications of years of smiling. The younger one had mischief in his eyes, and she couldn’t deny that he was incredibly handsome.

         “Your Majesty,” the older man bowed to her Mother. He then turned to her and bowed, “Your Highness, it is an absolute pleasure to have you in our kingdom.”

         She smiled politely. “The pleasure is all mine, Sir.”

         He smiled back. “I’m Alfred Pennyworth, I run the Wayne estate,” he turned once again to Mother. “Your Majesty, if you please I’ll show you to your quarters.”

         “Yes, thank you, Sir Pennyworth,” Mother answered, following him into the castle.

         The other man cleared his throat. “Your Highness, I’m Prince Dick, Duke of Blüdhaven,” he bowed, and she offered her hand. He kissed it politely, quickly releasing it and standing straight. “I’m the one escorting you today.”

         “Thank you, Prince Dick,” she said politely.

         “Shall we?” he offered his arm, and she couldn’t miss the golden glimmer of his wedding band on his hand.

         “We shall,” she said, controlled.

         Both of them walked calmly, as he showed her around the castle. She noticed the extravagant décor, paintings of generations of Wayne’s before adorning the walls, amongst other priceless pieces of art she was sure were worth more than the entire treasure she had in her kingdom. She quietly observed as he showed the corridor to her quarters for the month—he gracefully omitted the fact that she was marrying a stranger by the end of it and this wasn’t going to be her room any longer than that.

         She heard Prince Dick sigh next to her. “I’m sorry it has come to this,” he stated. “I’m sure I can speak for my Father when I say we all wished for a different outcome.”

        She offered him a tight smile. “Yes, well, I believe what we have agreed on is what’s right for both of our kingdoms,” she noted. “And while I wonder what would have been like if I didn’t come to this decision, if I may be candid, I do not regret making it.”

        He chuckled. “Yes, I’m glad you do not have any regrets, Your Highness,” he said. “And I’m glad you were candid about it. I’m positive you’ll do great in our family.”

        He stopped in front of a large and sturdy double door. He knocked 3 times. “The King awaits you,” he stated to her. “You shall wait here.”

        “Yes, thank you, Your Highness,” she bowed slightly. “Thank you for escorting me.”

 #

#

“I will not marry her, for fucks sake,” Jason growled, slamming his hands on his guardian’s imponent desk. “I will not be a fucking bargain coin for your politics, Bruce.”

         Bruce didn’t even flinch with his son’s outburst. “It is your duty.”

         “Shove the duty up your ass, then. I have too many things to worry about, I don’t want another.”

         Bruce continued to look at the map sprawled out on his desk, “The L/N’s are incredibly smart and their kingdom holds a lot of the knowledge that we need to defeat the Joker’s gang and the others. This is very much your concern, isn’t it?”

         Jason shuddered at the mention of Joker. “It is,” he said, defiant.

         “Then marry her and do your job,” he stood up, leaning menacingly over the desk to look Jason in the eye. “You are the main responsible for our safety, and although I disagree with your methods, you are doing a good job. You need to start thinking of the future, Jason. This is bigger than you.”

         Jason huffed in annoyance. “I know of that,” he muttered. Then he smirked and said: “But you didn’t marry and had biological kids, Bruce,” he taunted. “Why should I do it the traditional way?”

        “Because I know what it’s like to not go down that path, son,” he answered, raising his voice slightly, but still composed. “I don’t want you to be like me, I want you to be better.”

        Jason was speechless. He tried to mutter a word but his brain couldn’t think of any of it. “I still don't want to marry her.”

        “You will, though,” his Father answered, opening his drawer and pulling the contract out of it. “And all I ask of you is to not push her away. You’ll need her, more than she’ll need you.”

        Jason wasn’t exactly sure what he meant by that. And he hated to admit—he and Bruce were constantly fighting over everything, especially after… after—but his Father was right. He wished it didn’t come at the cost of his liberty. He wasn’t looking for a wife. He found that it would only hold him back. But the prospect of the crown loomed in his horizon, and if he wanted to do right by his people, marrying was one of the requirements. It was too late to turn back.

         Three sturdy knocks sounded. Jason quickly recomposed himself.

 #

#

She had seen King Bruce once, when she was younger. Her Mother threw a gala for whatever reason and he attended. She didn’t remember seeing any of his kids there, or maybe she was too occupied with her own thoughts to notice.

         She remembered him being charming and handsome. A lot of the ladies of the court wanted to marry him, but somehow none of them had managed to. She recalled the color of his eyes so vividly, not because it was beautiful—it was—but because it revealed something deeper about himself that left her guessing. She could never discover it, though. Some things are better left unsaid and unknown.

         Looking at him now felt like she had entered a time machine. He had stayed the same, save a couple of wrinkles of worry—totally comprehensible for someone with his position.

         She curtsied. “Your Majesty, it’s an honor to meet you once again,” she said.

         “Princess Y/N, please come in,” he motioned for her to come in. She straightened up and calmly walked into the room. “I believe you haven’t acquainted yourself with Prince Jason,” he nodded towards the direction of the man standing angrily in the corner.

         “No, I haven’t,” she smiled politely and turned to the man. She curtsied, “Your Highness, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

         She could feel him rolling his eyes, even if she couldn’t see him. “The pleasure is all mine, Your Highness,” he answered sarcastically.

         She uncurled and crossed her hands in front of her body. She glanced one last time at her suitor, studying him.

        He was beautiful.

        Jason had the prettiest eyes she had ever seen. They were the perfect shade of blue, and she never thought there was a perfect shade of color. His hair had a streak of white, that made him look even more rugged than he already was. His hair was swept, messy in the perfect way. He was pretty in the way a bounty hunter or a thief would be, not the way a prince would. Princes were known for being pristine and soft around the edges: Jason was nothing like that.

        She turned her eyes to the king. “I believe we have arrangements to make,” she said calmly.

        “Yes, we do,” the king replied. He picked up a stack of papers on top of his desk. “I took the liberty of assembling a contract for the annexation,” his hand rested on top of it. “Your input will be valuable.”

        King Bruce handed her the papers. “Thank you very much, your Majesty. I imagine this needs to be signed by the end of the week?”

        “Yes, but I’d rather it was signed today. Forgive me for the rush, but we need your scholars’ help as soon as possible.”

        “I understand,” she replied. “By the end of the day we can sign then.”

        “That’s perfect, Princess Y/N. Jason, escort her to the library so she can read in peace,” Bruce commanded.

        “Yes, Father,” he gritted through his teeth. She could feel his body shaking with anger and resentment and she knew she was the source of it.

        He strode towards the door and flung it open for her. She curtsied to the king one last time, before turning and accompanying her suitor towards the library.

        Jason’s hands were crossed behind his back, his feet heavily stomping the ground. She kept up with him, walking side by side, lifting her dress slightly.

        The walk was filled with strained silence. She started to feel uneasy about the waves of anger coming off Jason, she felt the need to address it.        

        He stopped abruptly and opened the double door standing in front of them, revealing the most beautiful library she had ever laid eyes on. Bookshelves adorned all of the walls, from the ceiling to the floor. The stairs to the mezzanine—once again filled with full bookshelves—were of sculpted wood and she considered them pieces of art. The ceiling had the most beautiful paintings on it, and she wondered who had the patience to paint such a huge canvas. It was all breathtaking.

        “Well, this is the library. If you need anything don’t hesitate on calling one of the help,” Jason said mechanically, snapping her back to reality.

        “Thank you, your Highness,” she muttered, still quite perplexed at the sight. She inhaled deeply and said: “I know this situation isn’t ideal and that you might feel cornered. But, truly, I’m not here to get in your way. I just want what’s best for my people.”

        Jason hummed, his anger somewhat subsiding but still very much present. “Yes, well,” he said, “I think you should get to reading that contract. Wouldn’t want to keep his Majesty waiting,” he finished, voice laced with sarcastic undertones. He turned around and left her alone with the papers.

#

#

It was late at night. The sun was long gone. Her stomach rumbled in hunger; the last thing she ate was at lunch, when she was about halfway through the papers.

         It wasn’t even that long, she just wanted to be thorough. She had read every single line for what it was and all the possible meaning behind it. Kudos to King Bruce for making such a complete and meaningful contract, she had been entertained the entire day.

         She rubbed her eyes, exhausted. She had managed to reorganize the contract after pulling it apart, the small piece of paper with her suggestions resting on top of it. With her hands stained with ink, she picked the papers up and headed towards the door, when it opened.

         “Sir Pennyworth,” she said in surprise, “I wasn’t expecting you.”

         “Your Highness, his Majesty has sent me to escort you to his office. I believe you’ve settled on the final details of the papers?” he announced politely.

         “Yes, I did. King Bruce did a superb job on it,” she complimented. He guided the way towards the office.

         “I’m afraid it wasn’t him who wrote it,” Sir Pennyworth pondered.

         “No?” she replied.

         “I’m sure it was Prince Tim, he’s the one with an aptitude for these endeavors,” he said.

         “Oh, I’m afraid I haven’t met Prince Tim, yet. I’ll be sure to compliment him when I do.”

         “He’ll be excited, your Highness,” he commented. “What did you think of Gotham so far?”

         She smiled sweetly at the older man. “I haven’t seen the city yet, but I found the part I have seen completely charming,” it wasn’t completely a lie. It was charming. Just not as charming as her own kingdom. “The castle, though, I’m mesmerized by it. You have done an incredible job maintaining it, Sir Pennyworth.”

         “Please, your Highness, call me Alfred. Thank you for your kind words,” he smiled warmly.

         “Well, Alfred,” she stressed his name, respecting his wishes, “thank you for escorting me.”

         She stopped as she saw the familiar door, holding the papers tightly. “It’s been my pleasure, your Highness,” he bowed, and left.

         She knocked on the door, calmly. A muffled come in came through and she turned the doorknob. Walking in, she saw King Bruce and three of his sons gathered around a round desk in the corner, a map sprawled out. She curtsied. “Your Majesties, I’m here with the contract and my notes.”

         She saw one of the Princes mouth ‘notes?’ to Prince Dick, (who shrug it off, just as confused) as Prince Jason rolled his eyes at her once more. “Please, Princess, sit down so we can further discuss it,” he motioned to his desk. “Dick, Tim, we will continue debating this tomorrow. Dick, you are dismissed. Tim, stay in case we need to change the composition.”

         Both Princes furrowed their eyebrows. As Dick left the room without a word or bow—which she was sure broke some kind of protocol—Tim decided to sit on an armchair next to the table they were standing before. The door closed with a click and she sat down, the papers resting on her lap gently.

         “I heard you said you have some notes on the text?” King Bruce initiated politely.

         “I mean no disrespect, your Majesty. The redaction was splendid,” she complimented, “I just mean there could be a couple of points added to make it more complete.”

         “Yes, yes,” he agreed, “please make your points.”

         “I agreed to this proposition on the condition of preserving my kingdom’s tradition in academia. While there was a clause in page 5 that stated that clearly, I thought it would be to everyone’s benefit if it was expanded into specifics,” she handed him the contract and the notes.

         He glanced over the notes, Jason reading it too, behind his Father. “I think these are all fair requests.”

         She smiled. A much needed win for her kingdom. “Thank you,” she said.

         “Tim, grab a pen and paper and add these to the text,” Bruce ordered. “We sign this tonight.”

         Tim jumped up from his seat, quickly opening a drawer for the pen and paper, and grabbing her notes. He scribbled furiously and within minutes the new page of the contract was finished, both parties agreeing to it.

         “Now, all there’s left to do is sign,” Tim announced handing a pen to Jason.

         She noticed Jason’s eyes filled with something indescribable, a mix of what she assumed was anger and grief. She wished both of them had a choice, but this was bigger than both. She prayed to the stars that both could make the best of this bad situation.

         He signed, handing the pen to her. Her fingers brushed for a mere second, and she felt heat rising to her cheeks. She quickly recomposed herself and swiftly signed out her name, her kingdom.

         It was done. It was easier than she thought it would be. She hoped she hadn’t made the wrong decision, and there was all that was left to do.

         King Bruce dismissed Tim, leaving just her and Jason in the room. “There’s the matter of the engagement ball,” he stated. “We hope to announce your engagement by the end of next week.”

        “Of course,” she stated clearly. Jason only grunted. 

        “Should I expect both of you to be involved in the planning?” the King asked. It sounded more like an order and she knew Jason knew about that. 

        Jason nodded stiffly. She then turned to the King and opened a polite smile. “Yes, of course, Your Majesty,” she agreed. 

        King Bruce dismissed both of them and Jason ran out of the room. 

         She ran to catch up to him, his long strides almost besting her in a long gown and high heels. “Prince Jason, wait!” she shouted.

         He stopped and turned. “What?”

         If she was taken aback by his rudeness she was sure to not show it. “Since now it’s official, I was wondering if I could tag along to one of your strategy meetings. I might have some knowledge to share or point the way to help.”

         “Aren’t you going to be too busy planning the ball?” he taunted. 

         “I’m perfectly capable of focusing on more than one thing,” she replied dryly. “Gotham is my kingdom now, I want it to prosper. And I want to be a part of it.”

         His face didn’t leave any indications on whether or not he was to grant her permission to participate, so she was surprised when she heard him agreeing. “I’ll arrange for you to participate in one. I’ll send Alfred to tell you details,” he dismissed and turned around once again intended to walk to wherever he was headed.

        “Thank you,” she shouted after him. 

        He hesitated before walking. He turned to her slightly and gave her a smile--and she felt like it was an honest one. He turned back and disappeared. 

 #

#

A gentle breeze blew as she walked down the busy streets of Gotham. Her dress—which she felt was too light for this occasion—blended in with the crowd splendidly. Jason walked beside her calmly, his hands behind his back.

         His face was serene and calm, as if he was truly where he belonged. She thought it as a good quality: it meant he was empathic, not on a pedestal like most heirs. He came from the people and he would serve his people. Her heart fluttered involuntarily. She struggled to contain it.

         The people of the city were quite vivacious and charming. The city in itself was gloomy and, quite honestly, a touch depressing, but the people colored the streets and made it feel almost as if the city was breathing.

         “This is so different,” she said, perplexed by the movement around her. No one as they passed by her noticed who she was, or better, what she was. “They don’t care.”

         Jason smiled. “No, they don’t.”

         “It’s quite magical,” she concluded.

         “It may be to us, but to other people,” he pointed to a couple, both very dirty and very thin sitting on the floor. They tried to get people’s attention, but they just didn’t care, “well, it can be quite awful.”

         She wished she was just as cold as those other people. It would save her a whole lot of suffering but she wasn’t. People’s pains found a way to her heart and became her own. She pushed through the crowd, muttering a few ‘excuse me’s along the way. She took off the only jewelry—a necklace, so simple and delicate; it was one of her favorites—she was wearing and left it in the can the old couple had in front of them.

         She knelt to be at eye level with them and said, looking at their shocked faces: “Sell it, please. It’s worth some money and you’ll be able to buy some food and clothes.”

         Their faces lit up and they thanked her enthusiastically. She smiled at them before getting up and rejoining Jason and continuing her walk. He had the same shock the couple had. He offered his arm, out of politeness she was sure, and her hand rested on the crook of his elbow.

         “Out of all the things I thought you would do, I—” he trailed off.

         “You think so little of me,” she said. “I’m not heartless, you know?”

         “I never assumed that,” he muttered.

         She looked him dead in the eye. His eyes twinkled in the sunlight and once again she had to fight the fluttering feeling in her stomach. “Good.”

         A few beats went by before either of them spoke again. She was the one to break the silence. “Does Gotham have any social programs to help the poor? It would greatly benefit the people,” she added kindly. “If there isn’t, I’m sure I can think of something to help.”

         Jason fought to contain a smile creeping on his face. “I think His Majesty deals with this type of project. You’d have to talk to him,” he said, guiding her back to the carriage.

         “I’ll discuss it with him then,” she said, impassive, her lips quirking up at the end. “Have you arranged for me to participate in the meeting?”

         Jason sobered up quickly. He couldn’t show her that he found her amusing. He couldn’t be so transparent. He didn’t want a wife, he repeated to himself. He didn’t need a wife, he tried to convince himself. This girl was not for him, she was too good. “I did.”

         She smiled. “Great. I’ll catch up on studies so I can understand everything.”

         He hoped he had remained impassive, because he couldn’t control the plethora of feelings inside his heart. Fuck.

 #

#

Jason paced in his office. Tim watched him closely, studying his brother.

         “Why are you so exasperated?” Tim questioned. “I’m glad you like her, otherwise you would have led a horrible life.”

         “That’s exactly my point,” Jason said, running his hands through his hair. “I don’t want to like her, Tim. She’s too good for me.”

         “How do you know that? You’ve barely even met her,” Tim leaned forward, his elbows resting on his thighs.

         “I just fucking know it, Tim,” he snapped, yelling at his brother. “It’s bullshit, that’s what it is. I wasn’t supposed to be in this situation, I’m not supposed to fall in love and get married and have a white picket fence life, goddammit. Look at me” he motioned to himself, looking straight into Tim’s eyes, “I’m a fucking disgrace. I’m a monster who kills people without remorse, I’m—”

         “Enough with the self-pity, Jason!” Tim got up abruptly, matching Jason’s volume. Jason’s mouth promptly shut. “Stop it. You’ve wallowed in it since Bruce told you about the arrangement, I won’t allow it anymore,” he added quietly. “You know none of what you said is true, you know it,” Tim walked to his brother and rested his hands on his shoulder. “Fuck what you think, Jay. Fuck what everybody else thinks, okay? You’re already getting married to her no matter what, let yourself like her. It’s the least you could do.”

         “I can’t—” Jason inhaled sharply recomposing himself. “I don’t know if I can like her the way she deserves.”

         “Then try. Isn’t it what you’ve spent your life doing? Trying? Try this too. What’s the worst that could happen?”

         “She hates me and I have to be married for the rest of my life with someone who hates me,” he didn’t say that that was his greatest fear. That he never wanted to be like his parents, fighting and bickering and beating each other. Showing their worst to the world. Having a kid and traumatizing him to the point he’d hardly trust someone.

         “So, you’d be just like another royal,” Tim tried to lighten up the mood. He noticed Jason’s somber expression and quickly sobered up.  “She doesn’t hate you. She’s trying so hard to please you, to prove to you she’s a worthy addition to the family, can’t you see?”

         “She’s not doing it for me,” Jason got out of Tim’s hold, turning his back to his brother. 

         “She may not, but she’s trying hard, when most wouldn’t even bother. That’s something, Jay,” Tim completed. 

         Jason didn’t complement Tim. He had enough with the talking and the convincing. Tim sighed sadly, and left the room, leaving Jason to sulk alone.

#

#

Between setting everything up for the ball, arranging the wedding ceremony, learning everything she could about Gotham recent history, and everything else she had taken upon, she was completely and utterly occupied. 

        It was for the better though. The more she was doing, the less she stayed inside her head, thinking about herself and letting her anxiety and doubt eat her inside. She had done the right thing, she kept reminding herself. She had done the best thing for her people, they would prosper, they would not suffer anymore. 

        And yet, there was always a little voice telling her that she had signed her people’s death sentence. The more she learned about Gotham, the more she read about its history and its horrors and its corruption, the more she thought she had condemned her people to a life in misery. Look at the amount of homeless, she thought, why did Gotham have so many homeless people, so many kids?

        No. No. No. She wouldn’t allow herself to get nervous. She was sure in her decision, and Prince Jason had proven himself to be reliable, even if he was distant. When she asked him a favor, he did it. When she asked him a question about his lands--Park Row--he would answer it truthfully. It was more than she could have expected in an arranged marriage. Most of those ended up in misery, both parties unfaithful to their spouses. She knew Prince Jason wouldn’t seek pleasure and comfort elsewhere. She felt it. 

        As soon as she stopped in front of Jason’s improvised study in Gotham’s main castle, Prince Tim opened the door. She could see Jason gazing through the window, his back turned to the door. 

        “Princess Y/N!” Prince Tim exclaimed, surprised. “I wasn’t expecting you to be here.”

        She saw Jason tense and turn to them. She smiled. “I have a couple of things to discuss with Prince Jason,” she explained. 

        Tim chuckled. “Yes, yes, of course,” he shook his head and said with an airy smile on his face. He turned to Jason and shared a look. Jason looked like he could kill his brother. Tim stepped out of the way and let her enter the room. She entered and Tim left closing the door behind him. 

        She stared at him. He looked tired, the bags under his eyes casting shadows over his face. But somehow, his eyes looked brighter than she had ever seen it before. She has trouble breathing and her heart beated faster inside her chest. She swallowed dryly, her hands gripping tightly the papers she carried. She curtsied to him. Follow protocol. Protocol is safe, it doesn’t make anyone nervous. 

        “You wanted to see me?” he asked, his voice strained. 

        “Yes, well,” she snapped out of her daze, “there’s still a few details to be decided for the ball.”

        He sighed and sat on his chair, his body looking exhausted. “Can’t you decide?”

        “It’s not only my ball,” she said. “I can’t decide for you, Your Highness.”

        “Don’t call me Your Highness,” he muttered, annoyed. “It’s weird. We’re going to be married,” he explained. “I don’t want to have protocol in the middle of it.”

        She looked down at her feet and back up at him. There went her comfort, the line she drew to not get too close. It was a business transaction after all, no need to get personal. Well, she figured, it got personal when she promised herself as a bargain coin for politics. “Yes, of course,” she whispered. “It won’t happen again,” she finished.

        He sighed. He mentioned for her to sit in front of her and she sat. “We need to establish some rules before we embark in this...journey together,” he stated. 

        “Of course,” she agreed.

        “I don’t want you to be restrained by protocols and etiquette when speaking to me,” he said softly. “We’re going to rule a kingdom together, one that just got bigger, we’re going to have to trust each other.”

        “I agree,” she said, hesitant. “What is your point?”

        “Call me Jason,” he said. “I never really liked my title all that much and I don’t want my future wife using it when talking to me,” he stated. It was the first time she heard him referring to her as his future wife, and he said it like it didn’t bother him. It sent butterflies to her stomach. 

        “Yes, you’re right,” she shook her head. Of course he was. Her parents never called each other by their titles when they were alone. “I suppose you’d want to form a friendship too?”

        His mouth quirked up. “That would be preferable, yes,” he said. 

        “Okay, then, Jason,” she stressed his name. “Then we should start this partnership deciding which colors do you want the napkins to be.”

        “Actually,” Jason started, “I have something to give you first.”

        She raised her eyebrows. “You do?”

        “Yes,” he breathed. “I wanted to start this on the right foot,” he pulled out a little velvet box from a drawer behind the desk and walked to be beside her. “Since we’re engaged, I thought it was only appropriate to give you an engagement ring.”

        She looked up at him, surprised. “You didn’t have to,” she shook her head. “I wasn’t expecting this.”

        He smiled at her. “Open it,” he urged her. 

        She picked up the box and opened. Resting inside it, she noticed, was the prettiest ring she had ever seen. There was a single ruby, sided with two simple diamonds. It wasn’t the flashiest and biggest engagement ring she ever saw--one of the ladies of her court married a rich duke from a far away kingdom and he had given her a diamond ring that almost covered her entire finger. “It’s beautiful,” she said, staring at it.

        “Allow me,” he said, picking the box, and slipping the ring on her finger. His hands lingered on hers longer than it should have. “There.”

        She stared at it for a bit longer. “I have no words, Jason.”

        He smirked and walked to his chair. “How about we decide the color of the napkins?”

        He knew he shouldn’t have done that. He was getting involved, he was cultivating feelings for her, feelings he had refused to have just mere minutes ago when he was talking with Tim. But when he was with her, he couldn’t help it, he was just swept away by her. Suddenly, around her, Jason wanted to do everything to please her, to make her happy and satisfied. 

        Jason knew he was in deep shit. Jason knew he was falling for her, and he wanted, consciously, to stop that. But he couldn’t: his heart spoke louder. 

        He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing.

 #

#

They had walked side by side the entirety of the ball. Her hand rested in a variety of places, the crook of his elbow, his hand, or the skirt of her dress. It didn’t need any saying that her favorite place for her hand to be was in his. 

        Nevertheless, the fluttering it sent to her stomach every time he would smile at her--albeit she knew the smile was only for show--it didn’t diminish the anger she felt at him.

        They walked side by side all night, him telling a fantasious story about how they met. It was love at first sight, he’d tell. They’d met under the moonlight, a sky full of stars, he looked at her and knew she was meant for him. She wore a blue dress, according to him. She smiled at him and it was like a whole new world opened up to him, a world full of love. According to him.

        The worst part was that she couldn’t say anything. Because she didn’t know anything about the lie he had constructed, what he had told other people when she was talking to his brothers while he was talking to Kings of other kingdoms. And that was what made her angry. He had reduced her, at least for the night, as a mere accessory for him. 

        He had been so sweet with her, so charming and loving. And then he did what he did. It could have been worse, she thought. He could have been invasive, he could have ignored her ‘no’. In that way, he was an angel. But he was still shitty with her that night. And it didn’t matter that it could have been a million times worse, Jason had reduced her to an arm candy. She still felt like an object. That would never be acceptable to her.

        He took her to the dance floor, as the orchestra played a slow song. 

        “It was a charming story you told our guests,” she said, her voice impassive. 

        “I figured it would be better for them to think we’re marrying for love instead of what actually is,” he explained, his hand resting on her lower back and the other holding her hand. She ignored the feeling his touch sent through her body. 

        “I wish you would have told me,” she said, her voice strained. She tried to control her anger. 

        “What do you mean?” he asked, confused. 

        “I discovered you had concocted a story for us at the same time all the others did, Jason,” she said. “And I couldn’t say anything, in risk of exposing the lie you’ve built.”

        He looked at her confused for a mere second, before recognizing what he did. “I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I didn’t think--”

        “You didn’t,” she interrupted him. “I’m not an accessory, Jason. I’m far too smart for that role,” she said. “I can’t stand by your side and smile and wave as if it’s just all I can do. I came to Gotham expecting not to be numbed by antique expectations of women of royalty. And you forced me to fit that box tonight. I hate it.”

        “I’m truly sorry,” he said sincerely. 

        “Yes,” she nodded. “Next time you decide to lie, at least tell me what you’re planning. After all this is a partnership, we agreed on that. We can’t act behind each other's back.”

        “You’re absolutely right,” he agreed, squeezing the hand he was holding more tightly and bringing her closer to him. “It won’t ever happen again.”

        “Good,” she nodded. 

        She knew he was trying to charm her with his tight hold on her. She tried to stay mad at him, tried to remain impassive, but she found that she felt safe with his arms around her like that. She broke a shy smile at him. He smiled at her too, his eyes bright with something unrecognizable. 

#

#

She sat quietly in the corner, a notebook resting in her lap. Her fingers twiddled with the pen, as she listened attentively to what the council members had to say.

         It was refreshing to be intellectually stimulated when she’d spent the entire week deciding dumb details about the wedding. It didn’t matter what flower arrangement the church was going to be decorated with, or which color the napkins were. She really didn’t care about it. If it were up to her she’d be married in a tiny room with no party. But it wasn’t, so she complied.

         “—we need to send humanitarian help to the Bowery, the people are starving!” Lady Helena exclaimed, cutting Tim in his long rant about something overly complicated.

         “We can send help after we eliminate Scarecrow!” Tim replied just as loudly. “If we send food, the gang will intercept and the situation will get worse, Helena. Don’t you get it?”

         “What I get, Tim,” she said annoyed, “is that you are so entangled in your overly complicated plan to dismantle their operation that you are blind to the suffering of your people.”

         Tim got up abruptly from the table, angry at Lady Helena, his fists balled up like he was going to punch her. Dick rested a hand in his brother's arms, calmly guiding him down for him to sit. Tim sat with a thud, his eyes flaming with rage, his face red.

         Jason, who was awfully quiet the entire meeting, sighed and rubbed his hands on his face. He leaned forward on the table, looking defeated. “And here I thought we’d make a good first impression,” he mumbled.

         “It’s okay, your Highness,” she said respectfully, thinking it would be better to use his title in front of the committee instead of his name. “In fact, I think I might have the solution to the Bowery problem.”

         Tim scoffed. “Good luck with that. I’ve been trying for the past year to solve it and I’m nowhere near to the solution.”

         She ignored his comment. “Anyway, I remember reading something about Scarecrow in my dad’s files. I’d need to reread to be sure, but I know there’s a safe way to provide supplies for those in need.”

         Jason clasped his hands together. “Great! We’ll discuss details at the next meeting after we get those files.”

         “If you don’t mind, I’d rather pick those up myself,” she said 

         “Sure, I’ll ask Alfred to arrange the trip,” he dismissed. “Well if there’s nothing else to discuss, this meeting is finished.”

        The council members disbanded leaving only her and Jason in the council room. 

        “What did you think?” Jason asked, his voice tired. 

        “They mean well,” she started, “but I can see that they’re desperate for results. And desperation in these situations isn’t a good thing.”

        “I know,” he sighed, his hands running through his hair. “I know, I’ve tried telling them but it never works in the long run.”

        She smiled. “Good thing I know how to help,” she said. 

        “Yeah,” he sighed. “It’s good that you’re here.”

#

#

He knew it was coming. He thought he was prepared for it. He thought he wouldn’t feel anything when he saw her walking down the long aisle, he hoped he wouldn’t. But when Jason saw her in her white dress, walking towards him, his heart stopped for a second and the world stopped turning. 

        She chose to walk down the aisle by herself. She wanted to show she wasn’t led into any decisions. She was doing this by her own accord, her own judgement. Jason thought it showed a lot of her character. She stood by her decisions and its consequences. She was strong. He admired her, more than he cared to admit. 

        Jason could barely remember the ceremony. He couldn’t stop looking at her, memorizing every detail of her in the light of the Gotham Cathedral, the crown she was wearing, the embroidery in her dress. But most importantly, the look in her eyes. It was everything to Jason. 

        He couldn’t exactly place what it was yet, but it was there and it meant more to him than he realized it ever could. 

        He floated through the ball after the ceremony. It was weird to call someone his wife, he never thought he would see the day he could call someone that. But Jason found that it didn’t repulse him like it would have before he met her. He was left with a tingly sensation of joy inside him. 

        It scared the daylight out of him. 

        He kept a tight grip on her, walking side by side. She was enchanting. She talked smartly with Kings of neighboring kingdoms. He heard King Clark of Metropolis commenting to Bruce how perceptive the new princess was. How intelligent she was. 

        Jason knew all of that, but it still didn’t stop him from being mesmerized. 

        “Who’s that gentleman?” she nodded towards an old man on the corner of the room. 

        Jason hummed looking at the man. “That’s Oswald Cobblepot. He is a part of one of the oldest families of Gotham.”

        “He has been staring intensely at me for the entire ball,” she looked at Jason, whispering to him. 

        “Well, you are the future Queen,” he commented. “People will stare at you more.”

        “No,” she shook her head, her hand resting on the crook of his elbow. He guided her through the ballroom. “This is different. He looks at me like he hates me.”

        “Oh,” he said. “He has a…quarrel, if you will, with the Waynes. His family was one of the few that founded Gotham. The Cobblepots almost ruled the land, but the Waynes got the kingdom. They have hated our family since then.”

        “Now that I’m a Wayne, he hates me?” she asked. “This doesn’t feel right.”

        “Well, technically you’re a Todd-Wayne, but yes.”

        She hummed. “He seems suspicious, Jason,” she whispered. “I think he’s planning something.”

        “Cobblepot is a coward, he would never hurt you,” Jason reassured. “But he would pay for someone to do so.”

        “You think he has?” a twinge of panic rising in her voice. 

        “He has done that before,” Jason said. “He wasn’t supposed to be invited, but Bruce insisted, and I had to dislocate more guards to the ballroom because of him.”

        “Can you keep an eye on him?” she asked. “I have a bad feeling about him.”

        “We always keep an eye on him, Y/N” he whispered. “He’s a criminal.”

        “What?” she said, shocked. He guided her to the dance floor, as a soft song played through the room. 

        “We have undercover guards track him everywhere,” he stated quietly, as if no one was supposed to know. “We have to every criminal mastermind this city has ever had the pleasure to meet.”

        “That’s a lot of guards then,” she commented. 

        “It’s a fucking nightmare,” he laughed. “Don’t worry, I won’t let anyone get to you, love.”

        She looked at his eyes and smiled. “Thank you, Jason.”

        “I’m your husband now, Y/N. It’s my duty,” he said.

        She smiled shyly at him and glanced at their feet for a second before looking back at him. “I never thought…”

        He smiled at her. “What?”

        She shook her head, smiling at him, completely lost for words. “Nevermind.”

        He sighed and tightened his hold on her. “I didn’t say this yet, but you look breathtaking today,” he stated, clearly. 

        “You look beautiful too,” she replied. 

        He gaped at her, like he wasn’t expecting the compliment. He quickly recomposed himself. “Well, I guess we make a breathtakingly beautiful couple then,” he joked. 

        “I guess we do,” she looked deeply into his eyes, smiling softly. Her eyes glinted with something different, something familiar and warm. But something he couldn’t quite name yet. 

        He found that he looked forward to the day when he could.

#

# 

She had dismissed the maid that would help her get rid of the dress. She was too nervous to deal with anyone else. She paced in front of her vanity, waiting for Jason to come in their room. 

        It was so weird to think that now there was a ‘they’. They were a couple, they were a unit.  It was a first for her, and she hadn’t had the time to think about it until all of the whirlwind of the wedding had passed. 

        “I thought you would have been out of that uncomfortable dress by now,” she heard him. She turned to see him. His shirt was unbuttoned, his tie hanging untied on his neck. He carried his jacket over his shoulder. He looked relaxed and comfortable, and she got even more nervous looking at him.

        “I was nervous so I sent Claire away,” she shrugged. 

        He took a step in her direction. “What are you nervous about?”

        She sighed and pressed her hands together over the skirt of her dress. “About us,” she whispered. “I didn’t think of the after. I didn’t have the time.”

        He smiled and took another step towards her, finally close enough to her. She could see perfectly the sincerity in his eyes. She could see the scar above his eyebrow and the tiny freckles on his nose. “You don’t have to be nervous about anything,” he reassured her. “I won’t do anything you don’t want to do.”

        “It’s not only that,” she said, shaking her head. “I’ve never done this before. This…” she hesitated, “partnership. I know things are different for men.”

        “I don’t see how,” he furrowed his eyebrows. 

        “You know how,” she snapped. “Men are praised for their sexual endeavours. Women are expected to remain pure until marriage,” she explained calmly. “And it’s not fair to either of us, you have an unfair advantage over me and I--,” she stopped herself.

        “It’s okay,” he whispered. “You can say it, I won’t be hurt.”

        She shook her head. “I don’t know how to do this, Jason,” she admitted. “I’ve never even been kissed before.”

        He smirked. “That’s easy to resolve,” he stated. His hands cradled her face and he leaned in, stopping just before their lips met. “If you want, of course,” he whispered, his breath mixing with hers. 

        Her breath got caught up in her throat. She wasn’t expecting him to be that direct. She thought he would seduce her first, like in the romance novel she had read. She’d rather his directness. “Yes,” she whispered. 

        He smirked and clashed his lips with hers. She closed her eyes and grabbed his shoulders tightly. His lips were surprisingly soft on hers, and she wondered what would happen if he decided to kiss with more passion instead of holding back. 

        She decided to, then, take the first step towards that direction. Her hands moved to his hair and she brought his lips closer to hers--which she thought it was impossible. She responded with more passion and more eagerness and he was shocked for a second before complying. 

        One of his hands moved to her waist and pressed her body closer to his. She opened her mouth just a little and his tongue licked her lips, entering her mouth slightly. She felt a wave of heat invade her, and she let it in pleasurably. His mouth started to make way down her neck, his fingers on her back, fumbling with the buttons of her dress.

        She felt panicked at the intimacy of the act and tensed. Jason felt her nervousness and stopped. “We don’t have to go further if you don’t want to,” he whispered. 

        “It’s too much,” she replied, her voice strained. “It’s not you, Jay, I’m just not ready.”

        He cradled her head, and placed a kiss on her forehead. “I’d wait forever for you,” he said. “I can wait until you’re ready.”

        She gave him a shy smile. “Thank you,” she said softly. 

        “You’re welcome,” he said. “Now, let me undo those buttons and get some sleep,” he said. “It’s been a long day.”

#

#

The carriage shook as they rode through the country towards her kingdom. She looked out of the tiny window at the horizon, admiring the view. 

        “Did you miss home?” Jason asked. 

        She looked at him. “I did miss my Mother, and my friends,” she said, “But I don’t know if it’s my home anymore.”

        “What is home then?” he asked, curious. 

        She searched in his eyes any indication of his intentions with that question. She found nothing but admiration and warmth and--if she’d be so bold--love. “I’m not sure yet,” she said. “When I found out, I’ll tell you.”

        “Please do, I’d like to visit that place,” he laughed. 

        Now that they were officially married, they had moved back to Jason’s residence in Park Row. They were almost completely disconnected from the Wayne Castle in the outskirts of the city. Park Row was in a part of the city called Old Gotham, some would say it’s the heart of the city, right in the center, the most populous part. Others would say it’s the cancer of the mechanism of the town, littered with homeless and thieves.

        Jason was born in Park Row. His parents were simple people. He didn’t give her much detail on who they were, and she could feel it hurt to talk about that subject so she didn’t push him to say anything. All he would tell was that his Father died first, and he was left as a child to help his sick Mother and him survive. 

        He became a pickpocket at age 8. His Mother died when he was 9. He lived on the streets up until he was 13. That was when King Bruce found him and took him in. Jason said he was trying to steal one of the wheels of his carriage when Bruce arrived and offered him shelter and food. Next day, he was already adopted and enrolled in classes. Next day he became a prince. She wondered what it was like for him to have gone through such a radical change in the span of a day. 

        He disappeared when he was 17. He was especially cagey about his time away. No matter what questions she asked he wouldn’t answer any of them. She wanted to attribute it to mystique, but she knew it was because of trauma. 

        When he came back he was a changed man, a stronger one, a more traumatised one. That was when he started to disagree with his Father more. He would question the methods Bruce would use in his hunt for justice in Gotham. He would question everything Bruce did, in Jason’s exact words. He didn’t detail anything and she started to notice a trend in his behavior: when something hurt him too deeply, he would barely talk about it. 

        Next thing he knew, he agreed to be the heir, he accepted the role his older brother left for him. He said it was because he knew better than any of his siblings how it was to be on the streets and suffer like most in Gotham. He would do better by them, and she believed in him. Wholeheartedly. 

        “So, what’s the plan of attack here?” he asked. 

        “We go in, say hello to my Mother and go to my Father’s study and look for the files,” she said. “It’s a dangerous mission, be careful,” she joked. 

        “We should have called for backup,” he said, seriously, embarking on her joke. “Maybe 1,000 soldiers would have sufficed.”

        “More like 10,000,” she laughed. “Seriously, we’ll just spend the afternoon going through dusty paperwork,” she said. “It’s going to be quite boring.”

        He smiled. “Nothing’s boring with you,” he stated. 

        She smiled back. “I quite disagree, but I appreciate the compliment.”

        The carriage halted to a stop. Jason opened the door for her and offered his hand for her to come down the steps. She accepted it and stood proudly by his side. He offered his arm and she took it. He led her towards the staircase that led to the main entrance of her castle. She could see her Mother standing there waiting for her. 

        She had her problems with her Mother, but she still loved her. She left Jason’s hold and ran up the stairs to meet her Mother. She panted when she finally got up the stairs, but nevertheless, she held her Mother in a tight embrace. “I’ve missed you,” she whispered. 

        “You shouldn’t have run,” her Mother said in her ear, her voice humorous. “What would Prince Jason think?”

        “Jason would think I love my Mother and I’ve missed her,” she stated. “How have you been?” she said, breaking the hug.

        “I’ve been okay,” Mother answered. She looked behind her daughter and her expression became impassive. “Your Highness,” her Mother said. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

        Jason smiled at her mother. “The pleasure is all mine.”

        She smiled at her husband and at her Mother. “Shall we get inside?”she suggested. “Jason and I have to go through Father’s files.”

        “Oh, those things?” her Mother said. “Good luck, I know he left those completely disorganized.”

        “I remember,” she muttered. “It’s going to be a nightmare,” she said to Jason. 

        “I don’t mind,” Jason stated. “We can spend as long as we want here,” he gripped her hand. “This is important for us back in Gotham, it’s important to be thorough.”

        “Well,” her Mother started, “I’ll leave you two to work then. I’ll send in some tea for you.”

        “Thank you Mother,” she said, watching her Mother disappear into the corridor. She turned to Jason and smiled. “Shall we?”

        He bowed slightly and said: “Lead the way, My Lady.”

        She smiled and started getting up the stairs, Jason right beside her. 

        It was charming how much Jason’s behavior towards her had changed so much in a relatively small amount of time. When she had first met him, she feared a loveless marriage, with a husband cold towards her. But, slowly--or as slow as it felt--he had shifted. He started being less sarcastic and more truthful. He would still make sarcastic remarks, but never directed towards her. Jason started being soft and understanding. It was weird to think of a man so big and rough as him as soft and gentle, but it was how she saw him. 

        She knew he had his insecurities. He had told her once. He had told her he was reluctant to trust her, that he thought he didn’t deserve her. She said he was selling himself short. He replied that she didn’t know most things that he had done. She thought that it didn’t matter because she was falling in love with him. 

        Love. What a strange feeling. What an overwhelmingly dangerous feeling. It had changed her entire view of the world. She was much more willing to happiness, to the tiny beautiful things of the world. She saw things colored pink. She knew this effect would pass, but she would enjoy it while she could. 

        She felt his hand brush hers. She looked down at their hands, barely touching and then looked at him with a smile. He looked forward, his face impassive, like he had no idea what he was doing. She held his hand and he squeezed it.  Her mouth quirked up slightly. 

        She led him right to a giant double door. She released his hand and opened the door, revealing her Father’s office. 

        It was considerably smaller than King Bruce’s office, but it still held an air of authority. Behind the main desk there was a big window that had a view of the castle entrance.   Both side walls were bookcases, from the ceiling to the ground. In the middle of the room was the King’s desk, untouched. 

        “Nobody has come in here since he died,” she said quietly. “Except me.”

        “I’m sorry for your loss,” he replied. 

        “It’s fine, it’s been a long time,” she sniffed. “I just miss him.”

        Jason remained quiet, examining the room. “Anyways,” she said. “I’ll get those files, and we’ll start looking.”

        She pulled a book in the middle of a bookcase. The bookcase retreated and it revealed a big safe. She opened the safe and revealed piles and piles of papers, untouched for years. ���Will you help me?” she asked, picking a pile. 

        He picked up another big pile. He rested it on the floor. “We can pick more up after we go through these,” she said, sitting on the floor. “We’ll be entertained for a while.”

        They spent hours reading. She started a system to organize the files into topics. Those that treated about economic affairs were separated into one corner of the room, those of the political affairs into the other. The political affairs were separated into topics: internal politics, external, and finally security. Those were the ones they had to nitpick through. She catalogued it in criminals: Penguin, Riddler, Two-Face, Scarecrow, the lot. 

        She had through those files at least once in her life. It was interesting to read through once, and she could see Jason was fascinated about the operations her Father had led once. But she found it a bit boring, like she had predicted. Nevertheless she persisted. It was more important than her entertainment. 

        “Y/N” he called for her, “look at this.”

        She got up from the ground and walked towards him. She had discarded her shoes long ago and was almost tempted to change into some pants. “Yes?” she asked. 

        “Is this the file you talked about?” He gave her the document. 

        She scanned through the document. It detailed how they had managed to successfully cut off supplies for the fabrication of the fear gas in her kingdom and how, with that, they had managed to ban Scarecrow from there. “It is,” she said. “I can’t believe you found it, I thought we would spend another day looking for it.”

        “We already did that,” he said. “We already tried stopping the production of the gas, we discovered an antidote for it, it didn’t stop Crane.”

        She smiled. “It’s not only that,” she explained, turning her back and going to the internal affairs pile. “You can’t stop only Crane, you have to redirect his soldiers to a more positive occupation,” she found the file and gave it to him. “See?”

        He read through the document quickly. “But we have social programs in Gotham, it still--”

        “You have and those social programs are great,” she said. “But it’s not enough for you to take care of the children and the homeless, you have to take care of the poor, those who struggle to get a job and do whatever it takes to not be helped by those social programs.

          “You have to direct those men and women to better jobs, give them better chances, educate them and then you’ll defeat Scarecrow fully,” she finished

        “Because then they’ll know better than to join him,” he whispered. “It’s brilliant.”

        “It’s how you stop them,” she smiled and sat on his lap. “This is the beginning of the end, Jason. We’re on the right path.”

        “How didn’t we think of it?” he asked himself. Her hands found his cheeks, caressing it gently. 

        “You were too focused on the short term solution, and it’s okay,” she assured. “Now, you can do better.”

        “I will,” he looked into her eyes and he said. “Thank you.”

        “For what?” she asked, confused. 

        “For everything,” he whispered. “For agreeing to give up being the sole sovereign of a land to joining Gotham and be its Queen, for being so wonderfully smart, for being patient with me for umm--”

        She interrupted him, kissing him with passion. She stopped the kiss and rested her forehead on his. “You don’t need to thank me, Jay,” she said. “I’m doing what’s right.”

        “For that I love you,” he responded. She tensed at those words. “Oh, shit, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to--”

        “I love you,” she said. “I love you,” she kissed him with a passion. 

        “Is it too soon?” he mumbled on her lips. “Is it too soon to say that we love each other?”

        “I feel like I’ve waited all my life for you,” she mumbled back. “So, no.”

        “Great,” he whispered. 

        Then he kissed her like his life depended on it. His kiss was filled with a fiery passion she had never felt before. Granted she hadn’t kissed much in her life, but nevertheless this was a new first for her. 

        His tongue made an entrance in her mouth and she felt a fire run through her. She returned his passion, gripping the base of his hair. He moaned against her mouth, bringing her closer to him. He gripped her waist with determination as his lips moved swiftly against hers. 

        He tilted her head upwards and his mouth kissed its way to her neck. She hummed and as he bit a sensitive part of her skin. “Jay,” she moaned. 

        “If you want me to stop, I will,” he replied, his mouth still on her neck pecking where he had just bitten. 

        “Don’t stop,” she said. 

        “You shall have your wish, then, My Princess,” he smirked and kissed the corner of her mouth. 

        She got impatient and grabbed his face, smashing his lips on hers. She kept on kissing him, running her hands through his hair. He fumbled with the buttons of her dress and she didn’t feel like tensing and running away. She wanted him to continue to fumble with the buttons, she wanted him to open those buttons and take off her dress. 

        “Jason,” she mumbled. 

        He hummed in response, his lips leaving hers. He kissed all over her face and she giggled delighted. 

        “How about we take this elsewhere?” she suggested, trying to be seductive. 

        He smirked and looked at her softly. “Are you sure?” he asked. 

        “Yes, I am,” she affirmed. “I’m ready.”

        He smiled and kissed her lovingly. “I love you,” he whispered, he got up and started carrying her towards the door of the office. He couldn’t stop kissing her even if he tried. 

        “No!” she exclaimed. “There’s a secret bedroom next to here.”

        “Is this castle full of secret passages?” he mumbled, his lips trying to find hers like a magnet. 

        “Yes,” she breathed out. “Pull that book,” she pointed to a book in the top corner of the last shelf of the last bookcase. 

        He pulled the book and the bookcase retreated revealing a simple wooden door. He opened it and it revealed a King’s bedroom. 

        “My Father slept here after he pulled all nighters,” she kissed his neck gently. “After he got sick he barely came into the office so it’s been unused for years.”

        He smiled and lifted her chin. He looked in her eyes lovingly. “Are you really sure?” he asked once again. “I don’t want you to regret anything.”

        “How can I, Jason?” she said. “You’re the best thing to ever happen to me.”

        He smiled at her. He closed the door behind him and they laid together. 

        To think one day he had questioned how he could want a wife. He hadn’t met her before. He hadn’t known he was destined to meet such a wonderful person, determined and strong. He hadn’t known he was meant to love her. 

        He had been too naïve to think he wouldn’t need her. He needed her more than he needed air, water, food. And he knew she needed him. It was a partnership after all. They needed each other, they trusted each other, and they loved each other.

#

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author’s note: don’t forget to reblog if you’ve liked to make sure more people see it. also, the link to my jason playlist is here

[sam-t-a]

Okay. 

*Deep breath* 

I think I’m finally calm enough to put into words exactly why I hated the finale and why I wasn’t completely surprised that I hated it. 

(Heads-up: this is really long and pretty negative. If you disagree, I would of course appreciate your point of view and love to hear it, but just thought I’d let you know in case this is the kind of post you would like to avoid.)

To me, it felt like every character on the show got betrayed in some way or another, but the main ones are Han Seo (devastatingly), Chayoung (obviously) and Han Seok (bear with me). 

Cha Young: 

She started out as a solid FL who annoyed some people for sure, but who had so much promise as someone unconventional and bold. The way her mother’s death affected her and caused a clear shift in her personality was a super interesting plot point that really never got explored. We have no idea how she came to sacrifice her morality in joining Wusang, just that she wanted to spite her father, which is a very superficial exploration. She gets cute idiosyncrasies in lieu of an actual character and an actual character arc. 

We also, halfway through the show, seem to forget that her father's death was the initial trigger. Cha young does not suggest bold ideas or intricate plans, she doesn’t fill the gaps Vincenzo is incapable of filling (because that would require that Vincenzo have flaws, and that’s not something the writers can abide), and she’s literally victimized in episode 19 and bedridden in episode 20, and that is IT. 

Someone who started out supposedly as Vincenzo’s equal just became another piece in his chess set, no matter how important a piece she may be. 

So her role as a badass avenger is trashed. That leaves her role as a love interest. Now, as Vincenzo’s love interest, she was supposed to get kidnapped in like episode 5 or 6 at the most if the villain has any brains whatsoever (Han Seok may or may not, more on that later). We need a reason for that not to happen too early. Cue villain is somehow in love with her for all of 15 minutes or so throughout a 20-episode series because a love triangle is inconceivable with the show’s current structure and for its purposes. 

So, she spends 15 or so episodes making the first move on Vincenzo, every time, putting herself out there, creating cute moments, getting nothing in return, and then he leaves. No confession, nothing much, he wasn’t even going to say goodbye or give her the choice of coming with him. 

I’m sure more chayenzo-oriented fans have already expressed all the necessary outrage over this, so I’ll move on to the part that I’ve personally been way more emotionally invested in from the get go: the Jang brothers. 

Han Seo: 

I was among the minority that  hated the “Vinny hyung” angle from the get-go and I’ve ranted about it in another post, so I won’t get into it here in-depth, but basically it was because I felt like Vincenzo hadn’t earned it, so to have the last words Han Seo hears be “You deserve to be my brother” or whatever the fuck he was on about PISSED ME OFF. It’s VINCENZO who doesn’t deserve to be Han Seo’s brother and hasn’t done a single thing to earn it. He was a good ally. The situation he allowed Han Seo to be a part of was beneficial to him, but Han Seo’s attachment to him was neither healthy nor heartwarming, and it certainly wasn’t returned on the level he offered it.

Vincenzo’s disregard of his death didn’t strike me as odd because I never saw enough indications that this was a two-way street and Han Seo’s safety and well-being came second so often that I didn’t get the impression Vincenzo was doing much to keep him alive. This is what I meant when I said the show was glorifying a torture survivor’s trauma responses. Han Seo himself, as a torture survivor, meant nothing to them. He was just there to create one more contrived comparison between Vincenzo and Han Seok. Instead of recovering from the trauma, it’s simply employed to someone else’s favor. He doesn’t go to prison for Han Seok, he takes a bullet for Vincenzo, and we’re supposed to see that as so much better.

All of that might (JUST MIGHT) not have ruined the show for me if he’d died better. 1) It was narratively pointless and totally avoidable, 2) they could’ve framed it as heroic, but instead Han Seok’s hand patting his head is pushing it down, so he can’t even get shot with his chin up and his back straight, Taec’s already taller, so the angle’s fucked and the whole cinematography screamed “kicking an injured puppy” and most certainly NOT “survivor finally stands up to his abuser”. The final nail in the proverbial and literal coffin is that he is mourned by no one. They’re FLIRTING not 3 MINUTES LATER, it felt so tone deaf and left such a bad taste. As I said, I didn’t expect significant mourning from Vincenzo (gotta say, I didn’t expect no mourning, that was a shocker), and Cha young and the tenants had no real interactions with him and no reason to mourn him, which left only one person who could. 

Which brings me to Han Seok. 

Han Seok started out as a solid villain, clear goals, clear skills that help him achieve his goals and basically make him a villain worth defeating, and a very complex relationship with both his own psychopathy and his brother. 

Let me get it out of the way: I do not believe Han Seok is capable of killing Han Seo because he had every reason and every opportunity to do so in previous episodes and couldn’t do it (I say couldn’t because a certain degree of reluctance is in itself inability). Han Seo’s danger far outweighed his material value the minute he shot Han Seok and then completely lost any value once he came out to the world as the chairman and it became clear that the prosecution would be going after him if anything happened, and not his brother. But time and again, he’s proven he’s all bark and no bite when it comes to Han Seo (killing-wise, specifically). 

The scene where he asks him to beat Vincenzo to death could be interpreted as him wanting to give Vincenzo the “painful death” he would have given him, but honestly, I think he was way past that point. He just wanted him dead in the “You crazy? we have to kill him before he kills us” sense. To that end, killing off a key ally of Vincenzo’s, who betrayed you and almost got you killed a bunch of times, should take priority, but Han Seok’s priority is reclaiming Han Seo by forcing him back onto his side. Now, much like his “love for Cha young”, Han Seok’s keenness on not killing his brother was essential to the writers so that Han Seo can justifiably make it this far and still be useful to Vincenzo (he can’t help if Han Seok completely excludes him from all events, plans and management processes, so Han Seok needs to want to keep him on his side enough not to do that even when it’s more prudent). 

All of this isn’t to say it’s unbelievable that he would kill Han Seo, but it’s DEFINITELY unbelievable that he would stay the same man after killing him. Someone here (I’m sorry, I don’t rememebr who) once said that Han Seo had become, over time, far more of a foil to his brother than Vincenzo was. To me, this means that Post-Han Seo Han Seok would be out of balance (tilted screen), unhinged in a way he never was before. The Han Seok we see shrugs and “oh, well”-s and moves on in a flash, not really any different from the villain he was four minutes and a whole brother earlier. 

This is very consistent with the way the show has been de-humanizing him from the start. I’m not saying this to defend Han Seok in any way, he’s a serial killer, an abuser and a total maniac. But you can be all those things and still a human being. In fact, you can ONLY be those things if you’re a human being. The show used its villain vs villain idea to justify a lot, but in the end, Vincenzo had to be a protagonist. He had to follow up every “I’m a villain” with a contrived “but at least I’m not (insert something worse)”. 

On the level of humans:

1) Vincenzo is supposedly different because he doesn’t hurt children or women (unless the women deserve it, and shooting a parent in front of their kid doesn’t count as hurting.) 

But we never see Han Seok hurting women or children either. In fact, if we proceed with the “chayoung is the myung hee of the good guys” comparison, he hasn’t hurt any women nearly as badly as Vincenzo did. 

2) Babel vs Mafia 

Babel’s corruption is compared a lot to the mafia, with Vincenzo commenting repeatedly that the people are WORSE than the mafia...which is bullshit. Babel is a set of companies that provide goods and services, but use illegal means to maximize their profit, so they hurt/kill people in the process because they want more money and care about money more than ethics. The Mafia is an inherently criminal organization that functions PURELY on the basis of its criminality. Every single dime Vincenzo spends is blood money. None of it is clean. And while we’re on the topic, I find the whole “taking Miri under his wing” thing pretty unreasonable too because he tried to have her killed you guys, I cannot believe we’re just glossing over that. He had everyone who worked on that vault killed, just random fucking construction workers. And he’s not sorry. And the show tells you he shouldn’t be. 

3) Repentance

Han Seok says outright he won’t atone, and while Vincenzo says no such thing out loud he just...doesn’t repent, I guess. He keeps the blood money, he goes back to being a full-time mafia dude doing mafia things. He leaves the same man he arrived. 

So, if on the level of harm inflicted upon humanity, Vincenzo and Han Seok are pretty much equal (and Vincenzo might actually be worse), then why should we root for Vincenzo? 

Well, my friend, that’s where the dehumanization comes in! 

I was initially very excited to see their portrayal of a psychopath because of the very interesting ways in which the informal moral code and official justice system surrounding a psychopath/sociopath/narcissist affect their behavior and their chances of not turning out rotten, and the show looked like it was looking at corruption in general. 

But as the show went on, the villain vs villain thing proved not to be enough, Vincenzo has to be better in some way (or if you’re as obsessed with him as the writers are, then ALL ways), so it became a villain vs monster narrative. Vincenzo isn’t ethical or fair or in any way interested in having a remotely positive impact on society, but at least he’s A HUMAN BEING unlike SOMEBODY. So, the characterization goes to shit, Han Seok becomes a cartoon card-board cut out of a villain and emphasis is put on how pointless his violence is, as opposed to how purposeful Vincenzo’s is. 

This is dangerous on multiple levels (and I promise this is the last point I’m making). 

1) For people in general, dehumanizing abusers/murderers/etc. makes us very liable to forget that you don’t have to be “a monster” to cause harm, and it makes people complacent in their belief that they are “not bad people” since they aren’t total monsters. The Banality of Evil is a thing, and in this series, it goes completely ignored. No one is inherently incapable of good or inherently undeserving of humanity. 

2) For victims of abuse in specific, it’s dangerous to portray abusers (including serial killer and non-serial killer ones) as entirely bad and unlovable, because it poses the dual risk of making victims less likely to acknowledge their abuse if it comes from someone who cares about or loves them on some level because the idea that someone cannot both love and hurt you is so stereotypical. Your abuser can genuinely want you in their lives and need you and, on some level, love you, and IT DOESN’T MATTER if that love doesn’t stop them from hurting you. 

On the other hand, portraying the victims of abuse as capable of flipping an off switch and hating the abuser with no hesitation or second thoughts to the point of unapologetically and cheerfully helping someone kill them and having no mixed feelings about it sends the message that if you CAN’T do that, then are you really abused? Are sure you’re not complicit in your own abuse? Do you even want to get rid of them? 

So this is basically why the way the show ended was so painfully disappointing for me. And the main reason it hit so hard was that it was initially so good and had so much promise. I really expected more.