#she pretty much explicitly left me in charge

[theotterpenguin]

there’s a post floating around here claiming that sokka is the only person keeping the atla kids alive and it very much reminded me of how the labor that women perform is often undervalued and overlooked. (and this post is not meant to be targeted towards op at all, but rather is speaking towards a general trend that i’ve noticed in the atla fandom)

i recently rewatched atla and it’s surprised me that the fandom interpretation is that only sokka is worried about the group’s lack of food/money, particularly in book 1, because katara worries over the exact same things and is usually the one backing up sokka. in “the warriors of kyoshi,” sokka reminds aang that they need to make it to the northern water tribe soon and stop making pitstops, and katara agrees with him. when they stop at kyoshi island, katara reminds aang multiple times that it’s risky to stay in one place for too long. in “the waterbending scroll,” sokka worries over how little money they have left after aang wastes money on a bison whistle, so katara takes charge of keeping track of the money instead, and she also reminds aang that they need to practice waterbending, not focus on having fun. in “the storm,” katara realizes they’re out of food and says they need to go to the market, then sokka gets a job so they’ll have more money for food. in “the king of omashu” and “the deserter,” sokka worries that aang will be discovered, and katara agrees so she suggests that they wear disguises. in “the cave of two lovers,” sokka says they need to focus on getting to omashu without getting sidetracked, and katara agrees. in “avatar day,” sokka and katara buy food/supplies together while aang waits for them. 

despite sokka being seen as the pragmatic sibling, both katara and sokka are pretty united in their practicality and trying to keep their mission on track. katara only makes exceptions on a couple occasions when she values standing up against injustice even more than sticking to the plan, such as freeing the imprisoned earthbenders or helping the fire nation village as the painted lady. and the way that i've seen people use katara’s passion for social justice as a way to argue that she’s “irresponsible” seems a bit disingenuous considering that she sees it as a moral duty to help people in need (and let alone everything else she does on the day-to-day to help the group).

(“the library” is in fact the only episode in the entire show that i can remember where katara disagrees with sokka and says there’s no harm in having some fun in their downtime. and as soon as sokka finds out about the existence of the library he’s also fine with taking a break from their mission lol. despite what the fandom thinks, it’s not the norm).

and while there’s a lot of focus on sokka’s mapping/planning skills, there’s also so much that katara does so much behind the scenes that isn’t as explicitly acknowledged. “the chase” tells us that katara, aang, and sokka all contribute pretty equally to setting up their camp while traveling. in “jet” they all help pack up camp, in “the great divide” sokka sets up their tent, katara collects firewood, and aang gathers food. and yet even though they all seem to contribute pretty equally to setting up camp, we are shown so many scenes of katara doing extra chores while the others are preoccupied with something else. in “the southern air temple,” katara packs up their supplies while sokka is sleeping, then again packs up everything while sokka’s eating the food momo gave him. “the warriors of kyoshi” episode implies katara is the only one mending everyone’s clothes, and while sokka is getting his ass kicked training with the kyoshi warriors and aang is entertaining his fan girls, katara is shopping for food and supplies.

in “the painted lady,” the group all goes shopping for food together, but it’s katara who cooks dinner for everyone (shown twice in this episode). in “the runaway,” katara’s at camp cooking for everyone while they’re off tricking a gambler to make more money. sokka, aang, and toph buy food/supplies, then leave them with katara to sort out while they go have fun in the village (and sokka gets to buy his messenger hawk). and katara’s the one seen as a “buzzkill” for worrying about their safety. this pattern continues in “the western air temple” and “the firebending masters” where we see katara cooking and serving food to the group, but there aren’t scenes of them doing other chores.

and of course, “the desert” is an entire episode dedicated to katara keeping the group alive. and that’s not even to mention the countless amount of emotional support that she gives to her friends, often putting other people’s needs above her own. sure, katara might not be the person with the map or the master plan, but that doesn’t mean her contributions are any less important.

sokka’s character arc involves growing into a strong leader and strategist, so it makes sense that the fandom often likes to focus on the moments that go into building this arc, the moments where he does take the lead and is responsible. but for katara? it’s just something required of her and of most female characters. taking on extra responsibilities is something to be admired in men, but just expected of women. 

and to be clear, i’m not saying that sokka is not responsible, he definitely is. i just find it interesting that some parts of this fandom have a skewed perception of katara’s role in the group, often claiming her to be the “irresponsible” or “immature” sibling while poor, exhausted Dad!Sokka™ is the only one keeping these silly kids alive. sokka and katara both had to grow up too fast, they’re both kids who are very mature for their age and took on adult responsibilities far too young (though in different ways). acknowledging the sacrifices katara made and the labor she took on to take care of others isn’t diminishing sokka’s character arc, it’s something he even admits in the show himself. and i love their relationship because even with such a complicated family dynamic, it’s so clear how much they love and support each other.

[audreyscribes]

PJO DEMIGOD HEADCANONS [BONUS!]

🔥 HESTIA: Goddess of the Hearth 🏠

author's note: I had a sudden idea about writing some headcanons Camp Halfblood demigods being claimed and what it's like for each respective god and cabin, followed by a small blurb afterwards. Thank you for reading and please like and reblog! The order is not in order of the cabin numbers. [PJO DEMIGOD HEADCANONS MASTERLIST]

Alright bear with me on this take: The fact that Hades gets a cabin finally. Hera doesn’t have any demigod children yet still has a cabin because of propriety and based on principle, which makes her cabin essentially a temple, so why not the same for Hestia?  While Hestia may not have a need for a cabin or anything, but if the rest of the major gods have a structure, it might've felt uneasy for everyone that Hestia is the only one left that doesn't have one. So they erect one on the fact unless Hestia herself explicitly says she doesn't want one.

Hestia is the goddess of the Hearth and every offering/sacrifice offered to the gods, a bit of it always goes to her too. She also presides over the home and community.

Although this is mainly connected with h er Roman counterpart, Vesta, she has something similar to Artemis’ hunters but less aggressive and non-violent, called “The Vestal Virgins” who tend to the sacred fire in the Temple of Vesta. Essentially, you’re priestesses of Hestia. 

Any demigod, mortal who can see through the mist, or what have you, are allowed to become as Hestia’s priestesses, who follow the same oath of maidenhood, swearing off romance, and etc. It's not uncommon to have mortals who were sisters or cousins, to either to the mortal parent of the demigod, or the demigod themselves, enter as Hestia's priestess.

You help maintain the sacrificial fire that is set up at the campfire, at the dining hall, and later the one in the Hestia’s cabin/temple. 

It’s pretty straightforward. You do your duties that fall underneath Hestia’s domain, helping out with also maintaining the camp along with the Nymphs. Doing what you can for the community.

Children and those entering the household were blessed by Hestia, around the fire, showering them in nuts and figs. This also applies to any children entering camp at a young age or any staff members employed into Camp Half-blood. 

You help bless any new babies that are born in Camp Half-blood, or rarely brought forward by former camp members. Oftentimes, the babies are baby satyrs and you work together with the children of Hebe who help take care of them as a daycare situation.

On a sombre note: you also are in charge with the funerals, with helping prepare the funeral pyres, and each shroud. You put out the fire at their deaths and rekindle it once more.

Your place is also the place to be for cooking and baking. Hestia’s domain is the hearth, which was also used to cook, so the kitchen is also her domain. This leads to so much baked and cooked food, that is separate from the mountain of food cooked for the dining pavilion. You often then not have a never ending line of people asking for some goodies. Hey, all growing heroes need to eat! 

You also have to fend and cap off the satyrs. Your kitchenware are not safe.  

The Winter Solstices, Christmas, Harvest festival, Thanksgiving, all those kinds of days are your ALL HANDS ON DECK moments. So much food. So much preparation and decoration to do! You often employ other camp members to help out with the events from the cooking to decoration. Their payment? Little sneaky treats.

You wondered before how the sacrificial fire was maintained and taken care of before you all came to be. Sure it was technically magical/spiritual fire and a portion of it could’ve been taken from Mount Olympus long ago to Camp Half-blood, but still-

Then you see a little girl with brown hair and brown eyes helping tend to the fire. You weren’t sure but you all worked together with her until one day, you saw her eyes light up with fire.

You breathed in the smoke and heat of the crackling blazer. The fire was high and roaring yet despite the dangers of it, you weren’t afraid of getting burnt. Perhaps it is because you’ve been tending to the fire for a while now, so you were sure how close was too close. Or was it because you had a feeling this was Hestia’s fire and knew you wouldn’t be harmed by it as you serve in her name and domain. 

You had just finished up helping with the food rotation, and you were on baking duty. You and your other fellow members worked alongside the nymphs and dryads,  The table was laden out with food for the incoming hungry campers, and the sneaky hands of Satyrs. 

You poured the oil into the blazer and the fires roared even higher. You watch the embers fly up into the darkening sky filled with the sunset hues. 

“A wonderful fire” you heard as you turned. You saw the little girl with brown hair, and brown eyes right beside you , and you almost jumped into the fire. You weren’t afraid of getting burnt but surely jumping into the blazer would still be a big no-no. 

The girl giggled as you placed a hand on your beating heart. “Um…yeah, yes, the fire is wonderful” you stammered out a reply. 

The girl smiled at you and gestured to you to come closer. You did and she reached into her robe to pull out a treat. Your favourite treat. Your mouth watered and it smelled just right. 

“For you. Wonderful work (y/n), I hope you continue to warm others with our hearth” she said as you took the treat. You looked her in the eye and her brown eyes lit with fire. You widen your eyes, your body stiffening as you realise who you were talking to. 

Hestia gave you one last, warm smile, before she disappeared into embers.

[everythingmp3]

𝐲𝐨𝐮´𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐨𝐧 ✧.*

adult!Van x fem!reader (smut)

you are her younger partner and you two end up finding yourselves in an empty church at night. things take an unexpected turn.

minors dni. warnings: religious themes, mutual masturbation, public sex

(disclaimer: quite a bit of plot, I wanted to explore adult Vans complex relationship to having been a "believer" in the past and the way it might influence her desires. idk if my vision translates but here you go🤍)

Van was not one to just tell people about her secrets and fantasies, she kept those to herself, but being in a relationship with you made it increasingly impossible for her to hide her innermost feelings. you were in tune with her, she did not even have to tell you things explicitly, you could read her, and she couldn´t deny it, how good it felt to have someone pay attention like that. one thing you´d picked up on was the way she reacted to the erotic undertones in certain religious imagery and language, the idea of love and desire being inherently spiritual experiences. she had not told you everything about her past, but you could tell that something had given her that desire: worshipping people, worshipping you.

you had taken a trip together and ended up staying in a picturesque town over night before traveling back home, after dinner you explored the area a little but it started pouring rain, so you ran to look for shelter, the nearest thing was a church, a beautiful building, white wooden panels, high ceilings, ornate stained glass windows. you opened the door to find it empty because it was so late, candles were still burning near the altar and the streetlight reflected through the windows.

"wow, this is pretty" you marveled, slowly walking deeper into the large room, "yeah I like it" she agreed, you both walked towards the front, she lingered by the candles while you dared to walk up to the altar, over to the podium to see how it feels to address the room, your hands resting on either side of the wood. without thinking much about it you started making up a kind of sermon; gesturing and speaking the way you thought a spiritual leader might, coming up with something about sin and forgiveness and embracing the light. to you it was just a little fun thing to do in the moment, but you hadn´t realized that Van had started listening intently, watching you from a pew she´d found her way to with a charged gaze, not laughing, at all. it was not a joke to her, she was immediately captivated by the sight of you up there, the light from outside shining in and illuminating your skin, your hair, your eyes, making you look all godly and perfect, it added to what you were saying, the faux preaching you were attempting, the effect of it on her. suddenly you felt her eyes on you and saw her face, the awe, the hint of lust, which immediately made something click for you: you were unintentionally turning her on. heavily.

you could have left it at that and laughed it off but it was just too tempting, to get to see her so vulnerable and transparent in her wants and needs, to maybe fulfill a fantasy of hers she would never explicitly ask you to participate in. so, you abandoned the humor and took it seriously, slowly descending from the altar, walking towards her, realizing that she had instinctively gotten down on her knees on the cushions meant for prayer, her head resting on her hands, her eyes sparkling in the candlelight.

you stood before her now, looking down at her, your voice gentle but strong "look at you. the picture of devotion. so beautiful" your hand reaching for her cheek, her mouth parted, her breathing heavier by the second, cheeks flushed. you gently brushed your thumb over her lips, admiring her, "you worship me, don´t you?" you asked, seeing her nod with eager eyes, "you do it so well. you were made for it" you took her face between your hands now, staring into her soul, Van rarely thought back to her time in the wilderness but in that moment, she was her teenage self again, so desperate to believe in something, only now it was different. she was not lost or scared anymore; she had you.

"your love is the closest thing to religion i have ever felt" she whispered, her voice shaky, that got you, straight in the heart, you inched so close to her that your lips grazed hers, she couldn´t help but continue the thought after seeing you react like that,"nothing has ever made me feel as whole and light and good as being with you" you kissed her then, deeply, hungrily, she opened her mouth, a whimpering sound escaping her, you were hovering over her, grabbing her face with both hands, taking charge, your tongue in her mouth, she was still on her knees, trying not to moan but it was hard, she was overcome with want, with love, with all of the mixed intense hot feelings; the powerful ambience of the church mixed with your otherworldly beauty, your hands on her, it was driving her insane.

you pulled away for a second, by then you were just as turned on as her, burning up, so you walked around the pew and sat down on the bench, pulling her up next to you, staring at her, you were both struggling not to just tear each other´s clothes off right then and there. you leaned closer to her "you´d do anything for me, right? anything to show how devoted you are?" she nodded, "yes, whatever you want"

"so you´d do something risky for me? something that might be considered blasphemous?" your hand on her thigh now, she knew what you were doing and she knew in her heart that it was a crazy idea but her mind was completely taken over by the need to feel you, please you, her hand on your neck, wandering down to your chest, your name uttered under her breath before she answered “you are all that matters to me, I’ll do whatever you want”. you both knew undressing was not an option, you weren´t that reckless, but there was a compromise, you pulled her hand to the waist band of your pants, after which you placed your hand on hers, urging her to mirror your movements, to give in, which she did, there was no turning back, she needed to be touched more than anything. the second both of your hands reached down each other´s underwear, two loud gasps echoed through the air, you were both feeling how wet the other one had gotten, which just turned you on even more, the intense mutual lust.

you could feel two of her fingers between your aroused lips and did the same to her, the wetness coating your fingers, warming them, there wasn´t much time, it had to be quick, so you both focused on each other´s clits, knowing it wouldn´t take much, you both quickly increased the pressure of your fingers, looking at each other, seeing the other one trying not to moan too loudly, which naturally had the opposite effect, something about watching the one you want getting off in that unfamiliar forbidden scenery, seeing each other struggle to be even somewhat composed, it made you almost lose your minds, that thing of wanting to be loud because you´re not supposed to be.

as you were both nearing your orgasms you kissed each other to try and stifle the sounds coming out of your throats, the sloppiest, messiest kind of kissing imaginable; open mouth, barely managing to make out for a few seconds before moaning into the other person´s mouth again, so you moved your lips to her neck instead, you could feel her hips moving upwards to feel your fingers pressing down as hard as possible, your own clit already overstimulated, "cum with me, baby, please" you whispered to her, feeling her body unravel from your touch, you were being more vocal than her so she shut you up by placing her free hand over your mouth, which was the final thing to really drive you over the edge, feeling her one hand down on your cunt and the other over your lips it was too much. your whole body shook, seconds after, hers followed, both of you clinging to each other´s arms for stability, facing each other again, panting, disheveled, eyes open after being shut in pleasure.

you pulled your hands away, having the same idea; making the other person suck the fingers clean that they´d been pleasured with, the two of you barely able to regain a sense of sanity while watching the other person do that. finally, you separated, sitting there out of breath, the room still as empty and silent as when you´d entered, just the sound of rain against the building.

"we just fucked in a church" Van said plainly, shaking her head in disbelief, laughing to herself. you turned to her, watching her, grinning, visibly amused by her reaction "we did. you´re welcome" she looked back at you now, eyebrows raised, nudging you in the side "YOU are welcome! you love toying with me like this, don´t you?" there she was again, her usual humor returning, you smiled and shrugged, "i just like figuring you out, making you feel good" she eyed you, knowing that you meant it, that she would think back to the vision of you backlit by the candles leaning down to kiss her many times. she ran her fingers through your hair, her eyes suddenly full of tenderness "you know how much I love you, right?” she said, you had both said it many times before but in that moment it was different, something akin to prayer, the way way she said the word “love”; quiet, full of weight. "i love you too. so much" you whispered, kissing her again, before pulling her up and trying to get out of there before you might actually get caught.

[michaeljoncarter]

ALSO, like with just about everything about wyll in the full release version i m o, the way his interactions with mizora throughout the game were just sorta ported over without much tweaking to make them fit in with the new version of his character is so weird and clunky and just.... uncomfortable

the fact that mizora was mortal in the original version of the story was kind of an extremely important detail that not only wyll's entire character quest but also their entire relationship and history hinged on. the ea version of mizora was half-human, not a full devil, and according to dnd rules as i understand them, that means she would've had a regular human lifespan. (eta: yes, she's still called a cambion in the full version, but my issue is at some point between ea and full release, all the differences between cambions and devils apparently just up & vanished) so if ea mizora and ea wyll, who were around the same age, met when wyll was 17, that means they met when mizora was also somewhere in the range of her mid/late teens

there's obviously still an unhealthy power imbalance there with her being his patron and all, but there's a pretty big difference between a teenage boy being manipulated by an equally as young teenage girl into signing a pact vs a teenage boy being manipulated by a fully immortal & presumably-already-grown-at-the-time woman into signing himself into her service

and the flirty/sexual dialogue being left in makes this 100x worse. originally, mizora and wyll were explicitly in a romantic relationship that had just ended right before the game started (like literally right before. as in he told you that the nautiloid snatched them up WHILE he was in the middle of giving her his breakup speech (lmao)), but there is literally ZERO reason for the full release version of their relationship to have such a weirdly charged undertone to it??

you can't just take the dynamic of "toxic high school sweethearts who just had an insanely messy breakup 3 days ago after dating for 5+ years" and slap it onto "grownass woman who manipulated a teenage boy into signing his life away to her 5 years ago" with zero acknowledgement of the fact that that changes literally everything??

like sorry, this isn't just petty exes bickering anymore. this is now reading as nonstop sexual harassment, and to someone without the context of this happening due to a messyass rewrite (or even with it tbh), it's weird as fuck that some characters get entire arcs dedicated to unpacking the trauma that comes from being trapped in this exact dynamic, but with wyll, neither he nor the player ever get a chance to try to stop it or even really acknowledge the fact that it's happening in any significant way

the sloppiness of this whole rewrite is actually insane to me

[queenofzan]

The Waterbending Master

So as I said, I'm rewatching Avatar: the Last Airbender. And this time, a few little things have struck me as potentially in need of improvement.

Master Pakku, his refusal to teach Katara, and his coming around when he sees she is Kanna's granddaughter.

This is the first culture in the show we have seen be extremely patriarchal (Sokka is supposed to be the man of the southern tribe and all that is left there are women and children, but they also have extremely low numbers, and honestly, it seems like Gran-Gran is as much in charge of the tribe as the chief's mom or mother-in-law as anything else). Kyoshi Island, obviously, has the Kyoshi Warriors and venerates Avatar Kyoshi; the mayor seems to be a man but Suki and the other warriors are considered leaders as well, despite being teenagers. We see several other Earth Kingdom towns and villages that seem mostly patriarchal, but apart from Sokka (and, once, Zuko) we don't hear a whole lot about what women can or can't do. The Fire Nation army and navy seem to be co-ed, although in season one we mostly see male commanders. However, working with women or taking orders from women doesn't seem to bother anyone except Sokka.

Then we get to the Northern Water Tribe, and they seem to have a pretty stratified society, with explicitly sex-segregated bending traditions. But it kind of seems like the writers wanted to have a moral about sexism without actually depicting sexism?

Pakku does say some derogatory things about how Katara's proper place is with Yugoda and the other girls, but he doesn't even hit as hard as Sokka does with the "girls shouldn't be fighting" stuff. He talks about tradition, which is...a really weird argument to make to the sole remaining Southern Tribe waterbender. Surely in the case of cultural extinction, the importance of keeping Southern waterbending alive is more important than sexism based on traditions? Like, are the traditions of the Southern Tribe completely irrelevant here? It wouldn't seem so, because the Chief does make a big deal of welcoming Katara and Sokka from their sister tribe and treating them as honored guests in their own right, not just as the Avatar's friends. So why didn't the Chief say "Pakku, we've failed to help our sister tribe at all in the last hundred years and now they're down to a single waterbender, we have to at least give the appearance of caring about them", especially since, you know, he's got the Southern Tribe's Chief's son and daughter there with the Avatar. Making sure the Southern Water Tribe still has waterbenders seems like a concern for the balance of the world, no?

And since when have sexist pigs become less sexist when presented with evidence that their crushes have been romantically entangled with someone else? Kanna has grandchildren, she got married to someone else and had children and meanwhile, as far as we can tell, Pakku has no family and never married. He certainly has no issue fucking off to help rebuild the Southern Tribe at the end of season one. Like...is it not much more common for sexist jerks to become more obnoxious after finding out they got dumped and forgotten about? Do men who want your number not usually call you a bitch instead of going, "Ah, you're right, I should reflect on my behavior?"

We also have absolutely no textual evidence for Katara's immediate assumption that Kanna couldn't stand the sexist traditions of the Northern Tribe. Apart from raising Katara, who is definitely not sexist, and raising Sokka, who is definitely sexist at the beginning of the show, we know very little about Kanna.

This is actually a pretty simple fix, in my opinion. A: make it clear Kanna does not stand for Sokka's sexist nonsense. I don't think this actually takes that much effort; some lines when Sokka is being sexist early on met with "You wouldn't say that if Gran-gran could hear you" or "Why don't you ever say that to Gran-gran?" implying that Sokka is in fact watching his tongue around his grandmother lets us know that Gran-gran has an opinion more in line with Katara's.

B: reverse Pakku's stated reasons for not teaching Katara. At first he grudgingly agrees, out of kinship and solidarity (and because the Chief pressured him and the Avatar is watching) but then not only is she a disrespectful student (by his standards) he finds out she's the grand-daughter of the woman who spurned him and apparently started a whole different family with someone else, and finds an excuse to kick her out of class. Or he sees her necklace and accuses her of stealing it, or something. Something so that his argument isn't based solely on the weirdly backwards presumption that his Tribe's traditions are more important than hers, despite the fact that hers are actively endangered.

I think we should honestly also see Pakku be more actively sexist, assuming Katara will be unable to match Aang's progress or his progress or something. He should talk more specific shit about how ill-mannered or boyish she is, or blatantly judge her excellent skills more harshly than Aang's. We should see actual sexism, not just "la la la you can't be here" which is like. Annoying but certainly not the most common or most harmful way sexism manifests. I mean, even him claiming Katara would be unable to concentrate on bending because she's at that age where girls only think about boys would be more than he does; we could even have that tie into the betrothal necklace blowup where he's like "You're fucking up because you're thinking about your impending marriage, aren't you?" and she's like "The fuck you talking about, old man?"

I just. I know they were going for a sort of, oh look, he's been reminded of his True Feelings and the sexism was just sour grapes, but that isn't as strong and it doesn't really send any message about sexism? Whereas if we had any indication that Kanna really did specifically hate that part of the Northern culture, if we had any indication Pakku has actually internalized any sexist ideas beyond "this is how it is", and we had any sense of Pakku actually grappling with the idea that the same things he loved in Kanna are the things that annoy him in Katara, and how that means he's changed, this subplot would be a lot stronger.

I also wonder uhhh what the fuck was Pakku going to say, if someone asked him why he was spying on the Avatar? We know the answer, he's literally spying on the Avatar for the Order of the White Lotus, but it looks like he's just stalking a 12 year old student after dark. It's really weird. Is he that obsessed with enforcing the sexist tradition of women not learning combat waterbending? That's also weird, to be honest! He's an old man, he should have other shit going on! Or else everyone should acknowledge that he's being weird!

[keeper-of-all-the-random-things]

Interview

Day 5 for @promptsforyourwhumpfic Two Weeks of Whump (necktie)

CW: BBU adjacent (not explicitly mentioned, but warnings applicable), strangling ... not really sure how else to tag this ... mostly creepy vibes. Please let me know if I missed anything.

Paul owned one necktie.  It was scratchy blue wool that he inherited from his grandfather, and he didn’t worry about it matching his clothes because he only had one suit.

He fidgeted with his tie now as he waited for his interview.  The advert made the job sound very blue-collar, but the towering chrome building instantly made Paul self-conscious.

He signed in at the front desk then fidgeted some more in the metal waiting room chairs.

After a few minutes, he was greeted by a young man, perhaps a few years older than Paul. 

“Paul Montgomery?  Hi, I’m Matthew.  Good to meet you.”

They shook hands, and Paul was surprised to find Matthew’s palm as clammy as his own.

Matthew led them to a sparsely furnished office.  They sat on opposite sides of a metal desk that looked like it was plucked out of a middle school classroom.

“We’re getting new furniture,” Matthew laughed.  “We had problems with the old stuff.”

Paul nodded, though he was confused why they didn’t just use a different room.

“Anyways,” Matthew clapped once to start business, “our interview process is pretty informal.  We want to see how you interact with people you might work with.  For example, me.”  He chuckled.  “Don’t be nervous,” he said, sounding a bit nervous himself.  “We have several positions open, so you’re likely to be offered a job, even if it’s not the one you applied for.”

Paul nodded again, at a loss for words.  He’d never been to an interview so … vague.  He adjusted his tie hoping his grandfather might somehow bestow luck through the fabric.

“Here, let me help you.”  Matthew pushed the desk away and brought his chair forward so he was touching knees with Paul.  He took his time retying the knot, fingers lingering at Paul’s neck.

Paul felt his face flush.  “What are you doing?”

Matthew smiled and pulled away.  He left the desk off to the side.  “All part of the process, Paul.  Where’d you get your tie?”

“My grandfather.  What is ‘the process’?”

“The interview process.”  Matthew’s smile didn’t make his eyes.  “You’ll get a full rundown if you take the job.”

Paul’s brow furrowed.  He wasn’t entirely sure what the job even was anymore.

There was a knock, and two people joined the interview.

“That’s Bernard Thompson,” Matthew said, gesturing to a thin, muscled man who had the air of someone who always knew more than anyone else.  “He’s in charge of training.”

Of course he is.  Paul gave a little wave, which Bernard ignored.

Matthew pointed to the other newcomer.  “That’s Val Ayotte.  She coordinates specifics between the company and the clients.  She’ll check in every now and then, but you won’t see her as often as Bernard.”

Matthew was frowning by the end of his introductions.  He maneuvered himself close to Paul again, with Val and Bernard hovering by the door behind Paul.

“What do you think?” he asked.  He closed in and fiddled with Paul’s tie.

Paul hesitated, thrown off by the other man’s proximity.  “I … there’s not much to go on.”

Matthew smiled, even more wan than last time.  “It’s the nature of the company, I’m afraid.  Like I said, you’ll get a full rundown when you’re hired.”

At some hidden cue, Matthew pushed back and accepted a sheaf of papers from Val.  He stared intently at Paul.  “Do you want the job?”

Paul thought of his single suit and tie and the family he didn’t have to make time for and figured there were no good reasons not to accept.  “I want the job.”

Matthew nodded solemnly and indicated where Paul should sign.  Paul sifted through the pages on his lap.  When he finished, Matthew handed the stack back to Val, looking almost regretful.  He stood to leave.

Before Paul could join him, his tie was pulled tight against his throat from behind.  He scratched at its woven fabric and the hands holding it, but he couldn’t fight Bernard’s grip.

He saw Matthew frowning deeply off to the side.  “Congratulations, Paul.  You’re hired.”

Matthew left, and Paul blacked out.

[mikaharuka]

Edelgard for the character ask game please!

Heyo Iris! Thanks for the ask~

1: sexuality headcanon: Interestingly enough, my headcanons for JP and EN Edelgard differ.

For EN Edelgard, bisexual with a strong preference for women.

For JP Edelgard, however, pansexual. Did you know that JP Edelgard is the only major character in JP FE3H whose lines are exactly the same, no matter if you play as Bereto (m!Byleth) or Beresu (f!Byleth)? That's pretty much proof that her feelings are based on Byleth as a person and are independent of gender. Hence the pan headcanon.

2: otp: Oooh, Edelthea is my favorite! Though I also enjoy Edeleth as well~

3: brotp: Hubert, hands down. I mean... it's pretty blatantly clear how much they mean to each other. And in fact, their JP supports together with their paired ending seriously gives me strong queerplatonic vibes.

4: notp: Hubert - I mentioned it elsewhere, but my strongest brotps also tend to be my strongest notps. True, Ferdibert is my one FE3H monoship, making conflicting ships 'technically notp by default', but this specific pair draws a very strong reaction from me precisely *because* I see them as queerplatonic or an extremely close platonic pair.

I should note that this is all with JP conversations in mind. The JP supports mention 'strong feelings', but the charge and target of said feelings were left open ended. So while you could read the charge as romantic and the target as Edelgard, it is far from explicit or definitive. Meanwhile the EN localization took away all the nuance and ambiguity and explicitly declared a charge and target. I could go on forever about localization issues, but I'd be here all day >.>

5: first headcanon that pops into my head She's such a strong romantic, even if she hides it. Well... that part is canon, but small things like loving romance-driven media is my HC!

6: favorite line from this character Oh, I adore JP Edelgard - her softer personality (relative to EN Edelgard, at least) just shines in these subtle ways. A personal favorite is from the JP Edelthea A support. Here is the EN line, the JP line, the transliteration, and my translation of the JP line in italics:

Don’t you see? No story about me would be complete without the character of Dorothea. わからない？私の物語には、貴方ガ必要だもの。 [Wakaranai? Watashi no monogatari ni wa, anata ga hitsuyo da mono.] You don’t understand? In my story, you are irreplaceable.

Indirect, non-explicit confessions of love are extremely popular in Japanese. "The moon is beautiful, isn't it?" (tsuki ga kirei desu ne) is the most famous example of this. With the surrounding context and unspoken subtext, this is pretty much a confession of love.

There are a few details that help - 'hitsuyo' translates as 'essential', 'necessary', 'vital', or 'indispensable'. Also, while 'monogatari' means 'story', JP Edelgard is also talking about her life in this context - I settled on 'irreplaceable' because it fits 'hitsuyo' and the tone.

7: one way in which I relate to this character Being a secret romantic? Pfft totally me. Though my 'secret' nature is only the case IRL. To those who know me online? Super obvious lol

8: thing that gives me second hand embarrassment about this character Tbh... I'm having a little difficulty thinking of an obvious answer here.

9: cinnamon roll or problematic fave? As much as I love Edelgard, I do have to say 'both' - I can't quite discount her actions, after all. But on her personality alone, she's absolutely a cinnamon roll - both versions of her, too~

[check out my other answers for this ask in this post]

[thewcllingtons]

❝ Baby... ❞ her hand cuping the side of her jaw, ❝ I'm not carefree a all. I think all the time, but I learned pretty quickly that it doesn't matter how much you think abot something. You can't change things you aren't in control of. ❞ Saoirse knew full well how one could be swallowed by their own mind so she couldn't judge Karsen for expressing her fears to her. It meant she felt safe with her. That's all she wanted to ask for, ❝ It's okay. Look, we all have fears that are warranted and I don't want you to bury that. It's important for you to feel comfortable enough to say what you're scared of, but I want you to know that you're safe with me. I'm going to keep you safe as best as I can. ❞ Karsen had a lot on her plate. Dealing with a well-known family in the criminal realm meant that there happened to be a lot of moving pieces and eyes on her. She could still be a target even though she wasn't explicitly involved. The femme hated the thought, but she had a feeling they would make it out okay in the end. Her comment about her having a kind heart made her heart flutter. ❝ If he's in charge than we should be good then. We just have to ride this wave through. ❞

The ginger continued to listen to her girlfriends words. How someone could think to use her shocked her. She couldn't imagine the heartbreak of pouring your all into someone only to find it being based on a complete lie. ❝ As sad as I am to hear that, I'm glad that they left you because now I get to have you all to myself. ❞ Saoirse had a rather jealous love. She loved to keep Karsen to herself all her life if she could. ❝ I kinda blows my mind how people would be willing to marry someone just for the noterity of it all. It seems like too much work to pretend. I hope that it doesn't get that far... It'll cause relief for everyone. I'm sure you're brother is just staying out of it because he assumes it won't last long so there's no need to waste time protesting— It will sort itself out. He sounds like a bit of a pacifist to me.❞ Lifting her brow as she leaned in to kiss her lips tenderly. Pushing her onto her back before she pulled away to breathe, ❝ I think I'm addicted to you, Karsen, I swear. I can't get enough.. ❞

Karsen envies how easy it seems to be for her girlfriend to not have her thoughts overtake her mind. The thing is , Karsen seems to never be able to shut off her mind and it could be a good reason why sleep isn't her friend. ❝ Oh how I wish that I could be so care free about things like you are , but I do know that you're right. That I should be focusing on the now and not about something that maybe won't even happen. I promise I will try and work on remaining in the now and not the future. ❞ It is easy for the blonde to make such a promise but it was going to be more challenging to actually keep it. Karsen is already in fear of the enemies her father has made along the road. Yet she knew many feared her father for the things he had done to people who crossed his path the wrong way , but soon enough her kind hearted brother would be stepping into the place their father once had. Even if Karsen isn't really involved in what happens with her family and the crimes that they take part in , she isn't stupid in knowing that people will use the kind heart of her older brother as a tool to fuck him and his family over. As distant as Karsen is with her family , their still her family in the end and she does love them regardless. ❝ I can lay here and tell you that I can try my best to not overthink , but I know what they're capable of. I don't fear the idea of it happening the moment that Declan takes over because I know he will let me live my life how I want it. He is kind of like you in the aspect of having such a beautiful heart. ❞ It is the only thing that the femme is looking forward to when Declan takes charge. Knowing she will be able to live her life free to do whatever it is that she desires as long as it isn't going to harm her or the others in the long run. However until then her anxiety is going to get the better of her but she is lucky to have someone like her girlfriend to help her keep her mind at rest during those moments.

Saoirse's words bring a soft smile to hear lips knowing that the other femme wasn't going anywhere. ❝ Good , because I truly because that I would be lost without you. You're the first relationship that was in it for more than just the rush of being with someone that comes from a powerful family. Not only that but I've never been in love with someone the way that I am with you. ❞ Blonde's gaze locks with the femme that is still laying beside her , a laugh escaping her at the other's reaction about the news of the age of her father's soon to be wife. ❝ Yeah I can't exactly say that it isn't disgusting , but I am sure she is in it for the idea of the money and the title of being married to a powerful man. I give it maybe a couple months they will be married until my father steps down and she will be out of the picture. Unless .... well Amelia is the cause of it. You're probably right , I just wish that Declan would for once be his own man and not the one he thinks my father wants. ❞ Karsen sighs at the thought of her brother. ❝ Those all sound like wonderful ideas , and definitely think that we could do the last option and maybe one of the other ones too. ❞ A smirk creeping upon femme's lips.

Continued || @thewcllingtons

[clarenecessities]

so a terrifying thing happened today

[drabbles-mc]

Quick Rinse

Coco Cruz x F!Reader

Request from Anon: Can I possibly pretty pretty please 🍒 😁 request a lovely smutty with Coco where the reader is fresh out of the shower cause it’s hot as balls out and she is laying on their bed butt ass naked and he comes home and sees her, and asks if she was waiting for him as he is kissing up her legs and she meantions that it was too hot and didn’t want to shower again as he is running his nose along her left butt cheek (they both just discovered that it’s one of her new turn spots it was just her ears before) and he says well we can shower again cause seeing you naked (bites said butt cheek) is doing things to him.

Warnings: unprotected sex, mentions of bodily fluids, spanking, language

Word Count: 1.4k

A/N: I had to brush the cobwebs out of my brain for this one because I cannot remember the last time that I wrote smut lmao. I didn’t explicitly mention a couple of the background details just for the sake of jumping right into the story. Hope you enjoy!

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You were sprawled out on you bed, laying on your stomach. You were scrolling idly on your phone, not thinking too much of the fact that you hadn’t redressed after your shower. Summers in Santo Padre were always brutal, and today was no exception. Truthfully, you felt like the shower hadn’t done too much good and you felt like you were going to be taking another one before the day was out.

The distant rumble of Coco’s bike could be heard from your bedroom. You didn’t bother getting up, knowing that his first stop once he got inside and took his boots off was going to be the bedroom. At this point you could’ve counted it off on a timer, he was so calculated with his daily routines. You heard the clunking of him taking his boots off, and you knew that next he would shrug off his kutte and drape it over the nearest piece of furniture, he’d pause and think about possibly grabbing himself a drink from the fridge, only to decide that it could wait and he would come and say hello to you first.

Hardly a couple minutes went by before you heard the creaking of the floorboards outside the bedroom. There was the creaking of the door opening and not even a second later, a low whistle filled the air.

“Damn,” Coco walked over and sat on the edge of the bed, running his hand up the back of your calf, “I woulda left the clubhouse sooner if I knew I was comin’ home to this.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you continued to scroll on your phone, “My ass looks the same now as it did an hour ago, Coco. You didn’t miss anything.”

He shifted so he was straddling you, still just below your knees, “You mean you weren’t just laying here waiting for me like this?”

His hands continued to roam up your calves and thighs, and it was only a matter of moments before you felt his lips pressing light, affectionate kisses against your skin. the way his lips brushed so lightly over your skin made you squirm slightly as you giggled. Each of his hands were lightly gripping the backs of your thighs, thumbs tracing back and forth. You hummed in approval, glancing back over your shoulder at him.

“Came home just to give me a massage?”

“Nah, but,” his lips trailed kisses up your thighs, “I got some other ideas for things we could do.”

Rolling your eyes, you shook your head, “Coco I just showered and I don’t wanna take another one already. It’s too hot for this shit.”

“You’re too hot to just be layin’ here like this and expecting me not to do something about it,” he pressed a soft kiss to your butt cheek and you hated that that was all it took to get the gears turning in your mind.

“Coco…” it was a hint of a warning.

“C’mon, querida, we can always just take another shower afterwards. ‘Cause this is already driving me crazy,” he nipped at the skin he’d just kissed, eliciting a yelp from you, not having expected it. His grip on your legs tightened as he kissed your ass again, and you could already feel your body giving into him as he continued to speak, “I’ll make it worth your while.”

The low rasp in his voice did you in. Your muscles all relaxed as you responded, “You always do.”

You could feel the way that his lips curled into a smile against you, and you couldn’t help but to smile as well. He pressed one more hard kiss to your cheek before backing up off the bed. He was off the mattress just long enough to discard the rest of his clothes, and you found yourself biting down on your bottom lip as you watched him strip, seeing that he was already getting hard. Then he was back on the bed, kneeling behind you as he positioned your legs to his liking. You watched him over your shoulder as his eyes raked over your body. His tongue ran along his bottom lip, letting you know that he was thinking about each and every move he was about to make.

His hands gripped you by the hips and lifted you up, and you could feel your body shivering with anticipation. Glancing back over your shoulder, you watched as his one hand ran along the curve of your ass as he brought the other up to his mouth. He spit into the palm of his hand before running it along his length, the grip of his other hand tightening on your ass as he did. A whine slipped past your lips as you watched him stroke himself, and his mouth instantly curled into a smirk at the sound.

He lined himself up at your entrance, “You know I always got you,” he pulled you back by your hips, easily sliding himself into you, “Right?”

A low shuddering moan came from you, filling the room. You could hear Coco cursing under his breath as he began to thrust into you. You immediately tightened around him, having missed the feeling of him inside you. Your fingers gripped the bedsheets, jaw going slack as his pace increased. Your brain was about to completely blank out in ecstasy when you felt his hand come down hard on your ass.

“Fuck,” you gasped out as the stinging sensation went through you.

“You like that shit?” you weren’t looking at him but you could tell from the tone of his voice that he had a smug grin on his face as he continued fucking you.

The word, “Yes,” slipped past your lips but it was hardly audible. Speaking was the farthest thing from your mind at the moment.

Usually Coco liked to take advantage of you when you were like that, tried to drag more words out of you just because he liked to hear you struggle to string them together. There was something powerful about knowing that he could do that to you. But this time, he didn’t. He rubbed his hand over the place that he’d just struck, causing you to push back into his touch.

You could feel yourself getting closer and closer, your body beginning to tense up around him. You knew he could feel it, too, because his grip on your hips began to tighten, slamming into you with more and more force. Not that you cared, but you were fairly certain that your nails were about to tear through the thin fabric of your bedsheets.

Pushing back so that his body connected with yours as deeply as it could, you came around him. Despite the fact that the only thing on your mind was how amazing it felt to having him still pounding into you, you heard the breath that he sucked in when he felt you tighten around him as you came. There would definitely be bruises where his fingers were with the way that he held you so tightly as he chased his own high.

You were content to let him use you, the overstimulation of him continuing to fuck you through your orgasm leaving you unable to do much else. You felt the calloused pads of his fingers as he ran his hand up your back. His fingers curled around your shoulder as his pace grew sloppy, the noises he was making more guttural. It was only a matter of a few more moments before you felt him pull out of you completely, the sudden emptiness catching you off-guard. The low moan he let out as he finished on your back was music to your ears.

He collapsed on the bed next to you, trying to catch his breath, “Fuck,” he let out a raspy laugh.

You chuckled, your mind still reeling, “Yea.”

“You good?” he raised his eyebrows as he asked.

Watching the way his chest rose and fell rapidly, you nodded, “I’m good.”

He leaned in, kissing you lightly on the lips, “I love you.”

You hummed in approval, “I love you too. But,” you saw the shift in his expression at your caveat and you tried not to laugh, “now I really need to take a fucking shower.”

He chuckled, “Can I come with you?”

“No point in saying no to you now, right?” you laughed as you carefully made your way to the edge of the bed, “But you’re in charge of scrubbing my back.”

He laughed, “Fine.”

“Hey,” you grabbed the towels off your bedroom door, “You make the mess, you gotta clean it up.”

[elysiadjarin]

Day 3: Dacryphilia

Jesse Cromeans may be a ruthless killer, but at home with you? You’re the one in charge. And especially those days when you’re annoyed at how long he’s been gone and he comes back so desperate for your attention… well. You did so like to see him cry.

Day 3 of Kinktober has arrived! I actually think I discovered some things about myself writing this one, so y’all enjoy. 😂 Find my Kinktober Masterlist here.

Warnings: Minors DNI, this is 18+ content only. This one is a slasher x reader fic, so please beware of mentions of murder and assault as part of the territory, though nothing is explicitly mentioned. PinV unprotected sex, dacryphilia, desperation, cumplay.

Tags: Jesse Cromeans (Chromeskull) x reader, slasher x reader, yandere!reader, soft femdom, sub/dom themes

Paint Splatters over Canvas

It was rather funny, really.

You scrolled through your phone, ignoring the giant man standing in the doorway of the room staring at you. Jesse had always made a point of never touching you without your permission. A way for him to separate the meaningless victims of his murderous hobby with you, his wife, his everything. And while of course your relationship stayed perfectly strong, you well aware of his hobby and he well aware of your own tendencies… it did sometimes backfire on him in the best worst ways.

Like now. When you were annoyed with him because he’d been gone an entire day later than he’d promised, extra dark web cash be damned. A promise was a promise, and it wasn’t as though he’d needed the money. He did have a perfectly legal and highly successful business, after all. So shouldn’t you have come first?

You liked revenge cold, playing the long game; something you had in common with Jesse. And today, you certainly had plans put in place for said revenge. Which, for the time being, meant ignoring Jesse. You had plenty to occupy you, from communications for the business to just working on your own projects. Still, you’d made sure to be just nonchalant enough to let him know that it was all so… deliberate.

Jesse shuffled in the doorway, clearly wanting your attention but knowing better than to think any sort of demanding would get him anywhere. He’d learned the hard way that at home, his power over subordinates decidedly did not apply to you. When you didn’t give him any response, he hovered for a moment, clearly trying to decide on what to do next.

You knew how he would get after a mission. Needy. Wanting. Starved for attention and affection from you. Pent up for days, probably thinking about you every spare moment between takes.

With a hum, you typed out a message on your phone before standing and heading for the doorway. You briefly looked up to see him as you brushed past in the doorway. “Oh, hi, Jesse,” you said, giving him a brief, distracted smile. “I’m off to get ready for a meeting with a client.” You headed for the bedroom, already thinking about your next steps.

You could hear him following behind you, could almost feel the mounting despair as he started to realized what was happening. Why you had used his name instead of the usual love, darling. His shoulders hunched, and you could see his face twist as he clearly tried to think of what to do. He already knew that you’d have your revenge however you wanted: apologies would be expected but certainly wouldn’t get him any closer to mercy.

Walking into the bedroom, you headed straight for the bathroom to start preparing. Jesse still trailed along behind you like a forlorn, helpless puppy, and you swore you could almost hear him let out a small whine. Pausing for a moment in front of your vanity, you dialed your friend’s number and set it to speaker, putting it down on the countertop and sitting in front of the mirror.

You tied your hair up and reached for your cosmetics, beginning the process as the phone dialed. Your friend picked up quickly, already in on your plan thanks to your texting. She always approved of your payback plans.

Bestie! I thought you said you had to prepare for the meeting? I mean, yknow, not that I don’t like hearing from you. She cheerfully teased over the phone.

You smiled. “Well yeah, I just sat down to do my makeup. But I mean, we did say we were going to talk about the party for little Jacen this weekend, and what better time than now? You can help me pick out an outfit once I’m done,” you cajoled, noticing how Jesse sat on the edge of the jacuzzi bathtub, unabashedly staring at you. He always had loved watching you get ready for an event. Not that you minded.

Fair enough. Your best friend admitted readily. But seriously, you didn’t have to go all out for Jacen like this. She half scolded. It’s so much!

You laughed lightly, the creamy foundation smoothing across your skin. “Oh c’mon, he’s my adorable little nephew in all but name. He deserves to get spoiled by his doting Aunt, let me have my fun,” you wheedled, knowing she would cave.

She sighed over the receiver. I swear, girl, you could convince anyone into anything.

“Or maybe I’m just your weakness, Miss Mara,” you teased back. The soft brush in your fingers blended the contour onto your face, and you smiled as you glanced at the phone. “But anyway, did you manage to figure out what he might want for a birthday present? Or are we going with my original idea to let him loose in a mall?”

Oh, no, you are so not buying him everything he points at. I’d never get him to not be a spoiled brat if I let you.Mara snorted. I’ll text you what I figured out, he seems to be pretty fixated on it right now.

“Ugh, fineeee,” you sighed, rolling your eyes. “But I’m going to at least get him that adorable motorized scooter I showed you before. He’s going to look so cute riding around in it.”

Fair enough I suppose. Better than the mall idea— wait, did you just get me to agree to something extravagant by threatening something so ridiculous—

“Anyway,” you interrupted blithely, “did you send out invitations to everyone?”

Yep, and I got back all the RSVPs. Speaking of which, I thought you said that you were meeting with the CEO of some business tonight? What’s that all about? I know you, you normally don’t like dealing with people.

You sighed. “Well, I guess the cat’s out of the bag a little.” You pouted, reaching for the eyeshadow and liner. “Jesse was supposed to be back yesterday, but since he wasn’t I had to reschedule, and I promised to personally meet with the CEO in order to smooth over ruffled feathers. But besides that… I wanted to be there personally to see my best friend and her husband’s house finally paid off for their fifth anniversary.”

A pause. Then a screech that made you grin. You’re not serious! Babes, no, wait—

“No use protesting!” You said cheerfully, waving your brush. “It’s already been practically settled. Besides, you both need to start saving up for Jacen’s college funds. We did have the agreement that I’d open the doors to whatever college he wanted instead of just paying for it,” you reminded.

Ugh, I don’t know if I want to smack you or hug you, you sly little— Mara groaned. Wait till I tell Damien, he won’t know what hit him. She laughed. Thank you. You know how much it means to us. I won’t scold.

“Good.” You nodded. “And you know I’ll take care of you.”

She sighed. Never doubted it. So, how’s the process?

You hummed, pursing your lips as you finished the eyeshadow and grabbed the mascara. “About to do mascara, then all I have left is the lipstick. But shouldn’t I wait till we pick a dress before I actually pick a color?”

Probably. What’s the mood? You going for boss ass bitch, sultry Queen, or mysterious vampire lady? Amusement laced Mara’s voice.

“You’re not even in my house and yet you walked in and called me out to my face,” you said dryly, earning laughter. Jesse, you saw in the mirror, tilted his head with a small smile playing over his lips. He’d quietly observed the whole processes, eyes fixed on your face.

Only cause I love you. So, show me the closet, girl! Oh, show me your makeup first tho so we got reference.

You picked up the phone as you finished, turning on the camera so she could see your makeup sans the lipstick. She whistled, eyebrows wriggling teasingly as she grinned.

Oh, so mysterious vampire queen it is. She smirked. Closet. Though I do have the feeling that we’re going to be choosing a gorgeous red lipstick.

“Yes ma’am,” you answered, standing and heading for your closet. You heard Jesse stand and follow behind you, and stifled a smile. Flipping the camera, you started to flip through the racks of dresses. “Does that mean we’re leaning towards a black dress?”

Hmm, probably. Actually, how about one of your sleek black ones? The one with like, barely any frills and only a tiny bit of lace at the top. Off the shoulder. If you’re gonna try to assert dominance, probably drawing attention to your mouth and hands is the best way to go.

You tilted your head at the hangers, then nodded. “You’re right. Especially if I go for the red lipstick. I could also honestly use a glass of wine during that meeting,” you sighed.

Mara snickered. Blood in a wine glass? How stereotypical of you, madame.

“You hush, drama queen,” you said dryly, finding the dress she’d described and pulling it out.

Ooh, that’s the one! And I know you have that one crimson shade of lipstick that I always say looks vampiric.

You went back to the vanity and set the phone down, pretending to not notice that it showed Jesse standing in the doorway, clearly staring at you. You slid your shirt off, careful not to smudge any makeup, then slipped out of your pants and reached for the dress. Smoothing it over your front to get rid of any wrinkles, you sat back down and tilted the camera back to yourself, reaching for the lipstick.

“This one, right?” You waved it in front of your face.

Yep! That dress is stunning, by the way. Oh, and what are you doing with your hair?

“Ugh, I don’t really wanna bother too much with it, so I figured I’d go with the… messy, loose waves.” You shrugged, applying the lipstick.

Mara snorted. I think you mean, ‘sorry I’m late I was doing things’ while ignoring Jesse staggering behind you clearly radiating ‘I’m things’ energy.

You half-choked, laughing despite yourself. “Mara-! Seriously!”

She rolled her eyes at you. I’m just saying it like it is. But you go girlie, you look bomb. She laughed. Blow them all away. Be the boss bitch you are. A noise in the background interrupted her. Oop, that’s my cue. I gotta go, text me though okay?

“Will do, tell Damien and Jacen hi for me.” You smiled and hung up, finishing fluffing your hair. Standing, you grabbed the phone and headed for the door. “The meeting is in five minutes,” you remarked to Jesse as you passed him in the doorway. “If you want to join.”

You saw him type on his phone, the text to speech translator sounding a moment later. May I be there with you?

You flashed him a warm smile, as though you weren’t at all deliberately enacting revenge. “Of course! I’d love to have you there. Let’s go.” With a little hum, you headed towards the stairs.

Your phone pinged with a message. Girl, I swear he was drooling. You’re so mean sometimes. Not that he didn’t deserve it.

You suppressed a laugh, replying with one hand as your other slid down the bannister to guide you down the staircase. You know it. Mission so far successful. Wish me luck, I’m about to go into this meeting.

You looked up as you got to the bottom of the stairs, seeing an assistant waiting with the guest. The assistant bowed politely. “May I introduce Mr. Trace, CEO of Finley Bank.”

Giving the assistant a nod, you turned to Mr. Trace. “Greetings, Mr. Trace. Welcome! Thank you for agreeing to meet with me. I do apologize for the delay,” you said, taking charge and sweeping towards the parlor.

He followed after automatically. “Of course, Mrs. Cromeans,” he answered, quickly recovering from his moment of bewilderment.

You motioned to a chair, sitting on the velvet couch across the coffee table. “Please, please, have a seat,” you said, keeping the easy smile on your face. “Can I get you a drink? Anything at all?”

He blinked, sitting down and setting his briefcase next to him. “Ah— thank you. I’d appreciate a scotch on the rocks if it’s available.”

“Of course,” you said easily, nodding to the maid standing nearby. “A red wine for me, please.” You smiled at Jesse as he sat next to you. “Your regular?” you asked sweetly. At his nod, you turned back to the maid. “And a glass of dry white.”

She bowed and went to go fetch the drinks.

“I’m sure you have plenty of other things to do, Mr. Trace,” you said smoothly, “so I’ll not take any more of your time than necessary. Of course, as I said, I’d like to discuss several things with you…”

Twenty minutes later found you leaning against the arm of the couch, feet propped up beside you as you swirled the last dregs of the red wine, tapping the glass with your fingernails. The CEO had long since emptied his scotch, and Jesse was on his second glass. His fingers kept clenching around the flute of his glass every time your feet brushed against his thigh.

“Of course,” Trace said with a nod, jotting down the final notes on the paperwork. “Easily managed. Are there any other details you would like to add or anything else to discuss?” He looked up at you.

Your tactics of firm politeness and the scotch seemed to have worked their charm, and you’d been able to rather easily dominate the flow of the interaction. Not to mention, Mara had been right about appearances clearly setting a tone. Trace seemed to be studiously avoiding eye contact with either you or Jesse.

“Not at all, Mr. Trace,” you said, a pleased note in your voice. “I’m rather pleased at how everything has turned out. We do so value your business, you know.” You tilted the glass in your fingers. “Shall I sign the papers?”

“At your leisure.” He slid them across the table toward you.

You slowly uncurled yourself like a lazy feline, straightening yourself and leaning over to set the glass down on the table. Grasping the pen, you slowly signed your name on the papers, eyes glancing over the print to ascertain that everything was in order. Shuffling through the papers, you finally set the pen down.

Trace took them back, glancing through them before nodding. “Everything seems to be in order.” He slid them back into his briefcase. “Thank you as always for your business, Mrs. Cromeans, Mr. Cromeans.”

You nodded, and Jesse stood, setting his glass down. You rose as well, sliding your arm into the crook of his elbow as he automatically adjusted for you. “And thank you for your help, Mr. Trace,” you answered easily. “I do hope you have a productive rest of the day. Do be safe out there.”

He nodded as the assistant returned to escort him out. “Same to you.”

With a hum, you absently patted Jesse’s arm and let yours slide out of his grasp, drifting towards the stairs again. “Oh, I need to go tell Mara it’s all confirmed. Besides, this dress is only comfortable for so long,” you remarked, pulling out your phone again.

Guess who completely owns their house now? You texted Mara, smiling. And your tactics worked, I think dominance was asserted.

You waltzed into the bedroom, headed straight for the closet. “Jesse, are you hungry? I think the food I ordered should have arrived by now, it should be in front of the TV. Maybe pick a movie? I still have a few messages to send.”

You changed into a comfortable black babydoll nightdress, sighing in relief as the silk slid over your skin. It was far more comfortable, and you could feel yourself finally starting to relax after the pent-up tension of the meeting. You really did hate dealing with people, especially ones like the CEO.

Your phone buzzed as you went to go pick it back up. You are literally the best. Now go finish seducing Jesse while I go figure out how to make this news sexy.

Stifling a snort, you went to go wipe your makeup off and wash your face. You could hear the sounds of the TV starting in the bedroom, so you took one more glance in the mirror before heading out into the room, still tapping at your phone. You still had to finish some arrangements for Jacen’s birthday, after all, and your revenge was still percolating.

Jesse’s head turned as soon as you approached the couch in front of the TV. You ignored the way he froze, sliding onto the couch and tucking your feet under a soft blanket. Sending off another message, you set it beside you and reached forward to grab a tray, pulling it into your lap.

“I figured you might not want anything too heavy since you just got back, so I kinda just made a guess and ended up ordering too much…” You frowned at the myriad of food laid out over the table. “Sorry, Jesse… I don’t even know if this is what you want—“

The text to speech cut you off. The food is fine, thank you. I’m sorry for being late. I know I can only make excuses, but I am sorry. Can I make it up to you?

A frown touched your lips as you picked up your spoon, still not looking at him. Your fingernails tapped against the screen of your phone. “Jacen asked the other day if Uncle Jesse would be at his party. I told him I didn’t know, but I’d ask.”

He quickly typed. Of course, if he asked for me, I’ll be sure to be there. His fingers paused, then he slowly typed again, as though hesitating. I got you a present while I was gone.

You hummed, swallowing your food and picking your phone back up. “He’ll be happy to hear it. And thank you for the present.” You sent a message to tell Mara that Jacen’s wish had been granted.

Jesse practically fidgeted as he ate, the movie playing in the background. You could feel his eyes slide from the screen to you, could almost hear the wheels in his head frantically turning. The tension in every line of his body was obvious, his movements stilted and jerky. He practically twitched every time you so much as moved.

Finally, you set down the tray, grabbing a mint to refresh your mouth. Shifting to get more comfortable, you angled yourself towards him a little more. You snitched a piece of food from his plate, letting out a hum as you smiled down at Mara’s message. If possible, Jesse stiffened even more, his fingers clenching so hard around his spoon that it even bent a little in his grasp.

A crumb fell from your fingers onto the lace edge of your nightgown, and you let out a quiet noise of protest as you looked down. Your fingers brushed against the top of your breast, brushing off the crumb. Sticking your finger in your mouth, you typed out a message in response to another conversation. With a sigh, you looked up and glanced over Jesse’s shoulder to see the lamp on the table next to him. Night had fallen, and shadows fell over the room.

Stirring yourself, you sat up, setting your phone down for a moment. “Can I turn on the lamp? I don’t wanna get up for the lights,” you said, starting to lean across him. Almost thoughtlessly, you placed your hand on his thigh and put your weight on it, reaching over his body on your hands and knees to pull at the cord on the lamp. The light clicked on, just as a low keening sound came from Jesse.

Your head tilted at the sound, and you turned to look up at his face. It was your turn to freeze.

Jesse’s face had crumpled, his soft green eyes literally awash with tears. His hands were clenched at his sides, his chest heaving with hitching breaths as he struggled to control his expression. The tears welled in his eyes, and faint color had splashed across his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

Slowly, a smile crossed your lips as you stared up at his face. Leaning back, you tilted your head, licking your lips. “Oh, look at you,” you breathed. “You made all the little piggies cry, Jesse. But maybe it’s your turn, hmm?” Your eyes flickered down to the way his entire body trembled, every muscle taut and strained.

You moved, sliding your entire body into his lap to straddle his waist and face him. Crossing your arms under your chest, you stared into his face. “I don’t know… you broke your promise, though.” Your eyebrow raised at him, and he let out another hoarse whimper. Tears slid down his cheeks, his mouth opening for shuddering breaths.

He shook his head, lips trembling as he lifted one hand and signed. Sorry. Please. Sorry. His fingers spelled out your name.

Reaching up, you cupped his face in your hands. You leaned up, face drawing closer to his. “But I already accepted your apology, love,” you cooed, smiling. “You know what I think?” You slowly dragged your tongue across his tear tracks, your body flushing with heat at the taste of the bitter salt. “I think,” you murmured against his jaw, “that I like seeing you cry.”

Jesse’s breath hitched on a sob, more tears spilling down his cheeks. It was fairly intoxicating, seeing the giant man completely fall apart under you, trapped between his desperation and his personal standards. When you slid forward, your body pressing flush against him, another sob wrenched from his gritted teeth.

You decided for the moment to have a bit of mercy. Reaching down, you grasped his wrists and lifted his hands to your waist. His fingers instantly clenched in the silk babydoll dress, shaking as he grabbed at your waist. His entire body lurched forwards towards you, eyes fixed on your face.

You hummed softly, brushing a kiss to his jaw. “Your eyes are so pretty when they’re filled with tears, Jesse,” you purred, drawing his face closer to you. Still, you refused to kiss him, instead trailing your lips down his jaw, down to his throat. You opened your mouth against his neck, savoring the taste of his skin and the soft scent of his cologne.

Jesse’s trembling fingers jerked against your waist, and he slumped into you. His hands slid over your waist to your lower back, his touch practically reverent as he squeezed. His breaths came quick and fast, breaking occasionally on a sob. Every time you suckled or moved your lips, every time your hands slid down his shoulders, he gasped and shuddered, more tears dripping down his cheeks.

You slid your hands down, starting to unbutton his shirt. Your tongue dragged across his neck, and you felt the bulge in his pants throb against your thigh. “Isn’t this punishment fair, darling?” you cooed. “I only ask for a few tears, hmm? A front row seat to your pretty eyes?”

His head jerked, even though it wrenched another tortured sob from him. Despite the contact, you could feel his frustration mounting.

You pulled back, looking up at him as you finished unbuttoning his shirt. “Oh, you don’t think so?” Your fingers slid across his bared chest, feeling the heat radiating from his skin. “But isn’t this what you wanted? Me, paying attention to you?”

His gasps had turned ragged. His hips jerked, rutting up against your thigh. A strangled noise left his throat, his eyes squeezing shut. His grip on your waist threatened to leave fingerprints against your skin.

“No?” You bit your lip, raking your nails lightly against his chest. “Then what is it you want, hmm?”

His eyes flickered down to your lips, unconsciously licking his own. His fingers clenching, he pulled you down to grind against his cock, straining in his trousers. Pants fell from his mouth, and he kept glancing from your eyes to your lips.

You reached down, teasingly trailing your fingers down his chest and stomach. Unzipping his trousers, you looked up at his face and smiled as you traced one fingertip down the bulge in his underwear. His eyes fairly rolled back in his head, more tears streaming down his face afresh.

“Look at you, already such a mess,” you murmured, sliding your fingers into his underwear. The moment you wrapped a hand around his cock and slid up, you were rewarded with a guttural groan. He gritted his teeth, clearly struggling to stay still. With a soft laugh, you leaned up and brushed a kiss to his ear.

You tugged at his collar. “Why don’t you lie down for me?” you murmured.

He immediately complied, his hands still clamped around your waist as he turned and shifted up, lying down on the couch. He stared up at you, face still twisted in agony and desperation.

Lifting yourself a little, you tilted your head at him. “Take your pants off for me?”

He practically kicked his pants and underwear off in his haste. You guided one of his hands to the latch on the side of your own panties, giving him an amused smile and nod. His trembling fingers unlatched them, his chest heaving as he watched the black silk slide away from your skin. The moment you lowered back down onto him, his cock throbbed against you and his back arched.

Leaning forward, you hummed a pressed a kiss to his jaw. “Jesse, love,” you murmured. “Cry for me a little more?” You cupped his face in your hands, feeling your wetness coat his own length as you ground against his tip. But you deliberately kept shifting, not giving him any steady pressure.

Another broken whine came from him, and a few more tears slipped down his cheeks. Frustration scrunched his face, his neck mottled with red and flushing down to his shoulders and chest, making your white nail marks stand out. His hips jerked, his eyes squeezing shut for a moment.

“Is this what you want?” You pressed down against him again, feeling his cock slip against your wet folds teasingly.

His head jerked in a nod, almost violently. Tremors kept running through his arms, his body occasionally shuddering under you.

You leaned down and sucked his lower lip between yours. Your teeth nipped at his lip, and you finally slanted your mouth over his. Tears poured afresh down his cheeks as he desperately pulled at you, trying to get closer, kiss you more. You relented and let him, thumbs brushing against his jaw as you hummed softly into his frantic, pleading kisses. Without warning, you slipped your tongue between his lips, feeling his mouth part with alacrity. When you finally parted, his green eyes were glazed over with tears, hazily staring at you.

Then you smiled at him slyly. “I think you’ve deserved a little bit more,” you decided.

The moment you slid his tip into you, he choked. Saliva dribbled from the corners of his mouth as he squeezed his eyes shut, struggling for breath. His entire body froze, humming taut under you and his eyes sightlessly staring up at the ceiling.

You observed his wrecked expression, licking your lips with satisfaction. Rarely did Jesse ever fully submit to you like this, usually a brat. But tonight, you had absolute and utter control, and you intended to milk every last ounce of satisfaction out of it. The memories would fuel you for years of his utterly ruined expression, tears slipping down his cheeks as he drooled uncontrollably.

“So pretty, darling,” you purred, licking the tears from his cheek. You gave him another kiss, letting his hands wander over your waist and up your front. “So good for me. Do you think you can handle more?”

His eyes widened, breath quickening. He glanced down, then shook his head jerkily. Then nodded. Then shook his head.

You tilted your head. “Hmmm.” A wicked grin crossed your lips. “No? Oh, but I think you can,” your said, just as you lifted yourself and fully sheathed him inside you.

Jesse sobbed. His mouth opened, tongue lolling as he gasped. Tears poured down his cheeks from the mingled pleasurable pain and relief. His cock throbbed inside you, and his hands grasped desperately at your thighs. His entire body started to shake, arching.

You barely gave him time to adjust before you were already bouncing on him, hands braced against the back of the couch. Laughter spilled from your lips, delighted and cruel, as his hands scrabbled against your thighs, raking across your skin. Moans kept being torn from his throat, your name framed on his lips.

As soon as you angled your hips and brought your fingers down to ring tight circles on your clit, you hissed in pleasure. You pulsed around his cock, earning another helpless sob and wave of tears. He just hit that one spot inside you perfectly, again and again, until you bit your lip and moaned his name as you came around him. Your body clenched down on him, even as you kept fucking yourself through your orgasm.

More laughter spilled from your lips. “Are you gonna cum for me, Jesse, my pretty darling?” you asked breathlessly, purposely moaning his name. “Gonna cum inside me?”

The only warning you got from Jesse was another sob and the gritting of his teeth. His hands flew to your hips, slamming you down on him one more time before holding you there with an iron grip. Gasps tore from his mouth, his eyes trying to blink away tears as he stared up at you.

You hummed, caressing his hands and arms as you bit your lip in satisfaction. He kept pouring into you, his hips jerking once in a while and wringing a whimper from him. Finally, you leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. His lips parted under yours weakly, chest heaving under your hands.

“Thank you, Jesse,” you cooed sweetly between kisses. “You’re so good to me, make me feel so good.” Your mind fuzzed with the pleasure of both your high and the sight of his tears.

He pushed up against you, kissing you fervently. Though he didn’t say a word, you could feel his thoughts through his drugged, sloppy kiss.

You giggled, teasingly clenching down on him one more time and earning a jerk and grunt. “And I forgive you. But don’t do it again, okay?”

Jesse’s calculating look as he clearly weighed the consequences made you roll your eyes but laugh. Maybe this one would turn out to backfire against you, next time.

You decided it was worth it.

[recurring-polynya]

Once again, I am thinking about the dubious claim that people make from time to time that Renji would have gotten better character development in the TYBW arc if Byakuya had died. The thing is, though, that Renji did get excellent character development in this arc, particularly with respect to his relationship to Byakuya, it was just very subtle and I want to talk about it.

So, the first thing I want to point out is that the captain-lieutenant relationships is one of the major themes of the TYBW. A lot of this is sort of weird and awkward, but this is perfect, actually, because captain-lieutenant relationships are, for the most part, weird and clunky and awkward. Take for example, the part that I always make fun of, where the captains are told not to go to bankai, and Hitsugaya, Komamura, Byakuya and Soi Fon immediately go to bankai-- but they all do this on the assumption that they are luring their opponent into a trap to see how this works, and that their lieutenant will somehow ??defeat them anyway?? (well, except Soi Fon who seems to think she can one-shot her Quincy). There’s Sasakibe’s funeral, where we find out that Yamamoto cared far more for him than we ever imagined. Kyouraku returns Nanao’s zanpakutou to her and stands behind her as she defeats an opponent he can't. Iba carries Komamura’s body off of the battlefield as he loses the last of his humanity. Isane struggles to keep her head above her grief because that’s the burden Unohana left her with. Rose avenging Kira. Hitsugaya and Matsumoto fighting and (sort of) dying together. The Zaraki-Yachiru thing. The Mayuri-Nemu thing. Momo and Shinji actually got to have a relatively normal one, which they each deserved, but at least they got to have normal one together. Anyway, that could be an entire essay, but as usual, I only want to talk about Renji and Byakuya.

Renji’s introduction as a character happens in stages. Initially, he sort of appears to be Byakuya’s sidekick-- he's here to do the dirty work during Rukia’s arrest, while Byakuya stands by and calls the shots, but even early on, it’s clear that Renji’s a little hung up on Byakuya. He’s trying to impress him, and gets more embarrassed and self-conscious as things go progressively pear-shaped. When Byakuya finally enters the action, Renji’s thought bubbles reveal that he’s watched Byakuya for a long time, that he knows all his moves. When we get the Renji backstory reveal a few issues later, we learn that Renji’s goal is to defeat Byakuya, which he seems to feel is necessary to seeing Rukia again, even though there has never been any sort of causal link revealed between these two things. Don’t get me wrong, if Young Academy Renji had tried to continue to be friends with Rukia, I think Byakuya would have kicked him out on his ass, but it’s clear that a lot of Renji’s hang-ups are internal-- he doesn’t want to face Rukia again until he can stand against Byakuya. I think the origin of this is that he simply wants what’s best for Rukia, and he can’t stomach the idea of asking her to leave her rich, noble family for him, unless, of course, he’s somehow better than Byakuya in some dimension, and the only thing Renji’s ever considered himself good at is fighting.

Even more interesting is that he’s chosen to go about this by... studying the man’s every move and becoming his lieutenant. But for as much energy as Renji has put into learning Byakuya’s favorite combat moves, he doesn’t actually know anything about him as a person. He’s shocked when Rukia predicts that Byakuya won’t lift a finger to help her, and then horrified when this actually comes to pass. A few chapters later, as he’s running Hinamori through, Aizen comments that “Adoration is the state furthest from understanding.” I would probably classify Renji’s feelings towards Byakuya more as admiration or idolization, rather than adoration, but I think this statement is also very true of Renji and Byakuya’s relationship. Unlike poor Momo, Renji gets a little more time and opportunity to do something with this information. With a little Ichigo-forced soul searching, he realizes that he’s not going to come out the hero of this story no matter what, but if he doesn’t do something, Rukia’s not going to come out of this story at all, and even if he’s not really ready, he’s spent 40 years trying to figure out how to beat Kuchiki Byakuya, let’s hope all that was good for something.

The Byakuya-Renji fight has no direct impact on the events of the Soul Society Arc. It makes Byakuya show up to Rukia’s execution 5 minutes late and without his scarf. Renji gets healed, so it really doesn’t matter all that much to him, either. You could argue that they both wasted a bunch of energy (that they could have used to fight Aizen later) but it’s primarily a character-driven moment of them both drawing lines in the sand about where they stand, vis a vis Rukia. Byakuya wins this fight, and he wins it handily, but he’s wrong, as he comes to realize a few issues later, when Ichigo kicks his ass and tells him he’s a bad brother, a lesson that Byakuya will take to heart for the rest of the manga. Byakuya claims that the difference between Renji and himself is class, but the real difference between is the heart, and in the long run, Renji is the real victor of this fight.

The hospital scene is an interesting footnote to this. Byakuya defeated Renji, but Byakuya was the asshole and everyone knows it. There’s an expectation that perhaps Renji will quit or perhaps Renji will give him an earful and perhaps even Rukia will choose to leave the family, either to go to the Living World or to be with Renji (and Byakuya would deserve this), but instead, both Renji and Rukia give Byakuya another chance, which is not, I think, a place Renji ever expected to be.

Rukia and Byakuya building up a sibling relationship after this is fairly straightforward (although I’m sure it had its weird moments), but Byakuya and Renji now have this profoundly awkward relationship where Byakuya is obviously in charge, but he sort of depends on Renji as a personal compass because he’s shit at dealing with people and he doesn’t want to screw stuff up with Rukia again. Take for example, the part of the Hueco Mundo arc where Orihime is kidnapped and Rukia and Renji desert their posts to come help rescue her. Kubo takes to the panel-space to tell us that Byakuya has tacitly approved this. As a clan head and a captain, a person who is entrenched in the hierarchy of Soul Society, Byakuya couldn’t possibly go to Hueco Mundo-- but he can turn a blind eye while his sister and lieutenant scurry out through the Kuchiki family senkaimon. Renji, for his part, tried to go to Hueco Mundo through official channels and got shot down. We don’t know what Renji would have done if Byakuya had explicitly forbidden him from going, but it doesn’t matter-- Byakuya enabled Renji to follow his heart here, because Byakuya can’t. Rukia would have gone to Hueco Mundo regardless. She cares about Byakuya, but she doesn’t depend on him for validation the way Renji does.

I said this was going to be about the TYBW, so let’s get to that. Early in the arc, we’re shown several scenes where it’s clear that Byakuya respects and values Renji as a lieutenant, but he’s also pretty damn patronizing to him. Renji is the first one to engage As Nodt, and when Byakuya shows up, he acts surprised that Renji hasn’t taken him out yet, but then proceeds to take over the fight (real, “stand back, fives, an eleven has arrived” energy). After Byakuya then loses his bankai like a doofus, Renji wants to take point so that Byakuya can figure out As Nodt’s attack and Byakuya won’t let him... and then proceeds to get thrashed.

This has to be one of the most emotionally charged fights in Bleach. Byakuya is losing, and Renji jumps in, absolutely incensed that As Nodt would use Senbonzakura against Byakuya. Renji isn’t doing great, but he’s not doing terrible when Byakuya gets up and tries to help Renji, even though he’s a big bloody mess. As Nodt reacts by shredding Byakuya into chunks, and Renji just loses it, and if Mask de Masculine hadn’t shown up and kicked him halfway across the Seireitei, I daresay Renji would have killed himself trying to take down As Nodt.

This is where I usually make the point that if Byakuya had died to here, it would have broken Renji into little pieces, but that’s not today’s essay. Instead, everyone goes to the Royal Realm, and by virtue of the fact that Byakuya is injured worse than everyone else, Renji has to go forward without him or his approval.

In typical Renji fashion, the thing that motivates Renji here is not glory or heroism, but the desire to accompany Ichigo, the need to be with his friends in their times of trial. In fact his companionship here is absolutely essential-- at Hikifune’s, Ichigo expresses deep doubts that he’s doing the right thing, and Renji reminds himself that if he wants to protect others, he has to take care of himself first.

At Nimaiya’s however, Renji and Ichigo are split up because they must follow their own paths. The other extremely interesting thing that happens here is that Renji’s sword is reforged. Byakuya shattered one of Hihio Zabimaru’s joints the very first time Renji used them in combat. Renji brushed it off at the time, saying that he could get by without it. Even though Byakuya has long been his motivating force and his mentor, he’s also been held back by his connection to him. And at this point, it’s gone.

I really wish we got to see where Renji and Rukia meet up again, but we don’t. Unlike with Ichigo, though, Rukia doesn’t seem to need anything from Renji. They travel together, fight together as equals, wear matching outfits, like you do. Oh. Wait. After all this time, in the 493 chapters between Needless Emotions and Blue Stripes, Renji can finally see himself as an equal to Rukia. They get. bankai. Together.

I want to emphasize that it’s not really anything about Rukia herself that allowed Renji to make bankai, it’s the fact that he’s finally managed to move past the feeling that he’s not enough. Defeating Byakuya would not actually have solved this problem, and having Byakuya dying in front of him wouldn’t have either. Renji gets criticized for losing a lot of his fights, but that’s such a key to his character. He’s not always the strongest, he doesn’t always win, but he keeps fighting for what he cares about. He struggles with his need for approval, for external validation, but Renji is at his best when he doesn’t have time to think about that, when he’s just fighting by his friends’ sides against impossible odds, doing what he knows in his heart is right.

I think people tend to make a little more than is strictly necessary of the line where he tells Mask that he’s “a villain”, I think he’s most just making fun of Mask’s own self-aggrandizement. On another level, though, this is just Renji being at ease with himself. Byakuya typically enters a fight bloviating about the honor of Soul Society and “how dare you raise your sword against me, the 28th Head of the Kuchiki” and even Ikkaku had the whole deal about telling people your name before you kill them, but Renji is more like “you beat up my friends, so I’m gonna break your face,” like there’s no ego in it, just you’re there, and he’s there, and then you’re lying on the ground and he’s taking a nap somewhere. This is so different than the insecure, posturing young man he was at the start of this series and I love this growth for him.

Even after he eventually meets up with Byakuya again, something has changed about their dynamic. The group gets split up and rejoined two or three times, and Renji and Rukia always stay together while Byakuya ends up fighting alongside others, Hisagi and later Hitsugaya and Zaraki. This is cemented in their last scene together, where Rukia and Renji try to stay with Byakuya and he sends them off to fight with Ichigo by saying “your help is not needed here.” In some ways, it’s an echo of Byakuya sending them off to Hueco Mundo, but in other ways, it’s acknowledging that they are their own people, not just an extension of him.

Hitsugaya follows it up with this:

There’s more here than meets the eye, though-- Byakuya and Renji have maintained a pretty strict superior-subordinate relationship, because that’s the easiest way for them to make sense of the world, but the fact is, they do care about each other and are important to one another.

I know there would be a certain narrative satisfaction in seeing Renji make captain at the end-- he’s one of the hardest working people in Bleach, and it frankly seems weird to see Iba get the haori when he doesn’t. But Renji has never wanted to be a captain. Renji becoming captain would, in some ways, be a failure. He spends years pre-canon chasing rank and prestige because that’s what he thinks will make him worthy, and it didn’t. Instead, he found worth in being himself, in loving his friends and being there for them, in learning things from Byakuya and teaching him things in return. Renji doesn’t need to be Byakuya’s lieutenant anymore, he just does it because he likes it. It makes him happy. What better character development is there than that?

[wheredafandomat]

Beautiful Torture

The days were perfect. An oasis. You’d frequent the hills, overlooking the waves that’d crash on the shores, spraying droplets of the crisp water over your face. As the day moved further on, you’d help Valkyrie with ‘running’ things as she’d call it which was mostly just ensuring that all the bars were fully stocked. The real responsibility resided in you. Thor hadn’t explicitly left you in charge yet you were the only reason New Asgard was flourishing. Everyone was finally happy again. New Asgard was utopia under your rule. When the evening arrived, you’d have dinner, usually in the company of Valkyrie who always ensured that there was some form of ale at the table. You couldn’t fault her on her drinking. Whenever the time called for it, she was the most valiant of warriors, besides, she was dealing with a lot herself. You’d spend most of the evening laughing and drinking with her, just waiting for nighttime to consume you.

Nighttime was your favourite part of the day. Nighttime was time spent with him. Loki. Your love. You’d lay together in bed as you told him about your day. You’d often reminisce about your youth together and how different New Asgard was to the previous one. It’s not a place, it’s a people, he’d often remind you whenever tears would threaten to fall, recalling days of old. You’d spend time just facing one another with the moonlight casting shadows over the room. It reminded you both of your first time together. Two young adults in the throes of passion declaring their undying love to one another. The moonlight would always serve as a reminder of that. You’d ask him to read to you whenever your ears grew lonesome from the lack of hearing his voice. He’d never pick out a book, he’d just settle with telling you a story from one of his ‘adventures’ with Thor. However many times you heard these stories, they never failed to make you laugh. Loki had a charismatic way of telling stories. His voice lured you in, his hands would often play tricks, casting illusions, keeping your attention on him. You always said that whenever you’d have children, they’d be lucky to have Loki as a father, he’d always tell the best bedtime stories. You’d draw lazy shapes over the palm of his hand just watching him fall asleep. His peaceful expression carrying you into your own slumber, dreading the one part of the the day you hated. Sometimes you’d beg him not to fall asleep. To stay up and tell one more story. You’d be satisfied with one more. Just don’t go to sleep Loki, don’t leave you’d plead.

When dusk arrived, you’d wake up alone, searching your bed for Loki only to remember that Loki wasn’t here anymore. He lived among the brightest stars now, shining over you in spirit. His voice, an echo constantly reverberating in your mind saying I love you. With dusk only came the brutal reminder that you were really and truly alone. Loki was your friend, your lover, your other half, your home. Without Loki, you were untethered. You’d usually sigh, begin getting up and walking towards the hills to watch the waves crashing on the shore, pretty much reliving the same day over and over again. A beautiful torture.

A/N: I have been upset the past 5 minutes and decided to just put it here 🤣 not actually sure why. Maybe it’s the fact that Loki isn’t currently SHOWING ME HIS BLUE GLOWSTICK 😤

[bffsoobin]

This Time Around

➤ idol!yeonjun x non!idol/ex!girlfriend reader ft. same reader x jungkook (mostly platonic), fluff, angst, lots of messy feelings, other txt members make appearances/are mentioned

↳ weeks after your chance reconnection with Yeonjun, you book a flight to Seoul under his encouragement. When you arrive, you’re not only overwhelmed by the lifestyle of an idol, but the new people you meet. Will you and Yeonjun be able to hold on to each other this time around?

word count: 9k

requested?: yes! (thank you for this great idea, anon)

warnings: this is largely angst. crying, arguments, swearing, feelings of betrayal and confusion, Yeonjun is kind of an ass, self-doubt (in both Yeonjun and reader), messy feelings and relationships all around, this does NOT have a happy ending so don’t go in expecting one lmao also disclaimer (?) that I a) have no idea what the BH building looks like inside b) don’t think that either Yeonjun or Jungkook would act this way...we are here to write fiction, after all.

A/N: This is a sequel to Just One Day! I won’t be making too many explicit references to the content of that fic but reading it first will help with storyline clarity! I also don’t explicitly state this but the reader in this case already knows Korean, she just has never been to the country before- it was simply easier for storytelling. I really hope y’all like this. I was very inspired by this request especially since I was in the mood to write both angst and a sequel to one of my older pieces! (also this gave me a good excuse to write about koo without feeling bad for straying from TXT content lmao) ALSO this is not proof read or edited, as usual for me :)

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“I think it’s a good idea,” Yeonjun’s voice, velvety and heavy with sleep, seeps through the speakers of your phone. You glance at the time displayed on your computer and do the mental math which proves it’s a crisp 2 am in Korea.

“Go to bed, Junnie,” you half-scold, knowing that you wish for nothing more than for him to stay on the line until he eventually falls asleep in the middle of the conversation. He sighs through the phone, and you imagine him stretching his arms above his head to eliminate the fatigue creeping through him.

“Not till you promise me you’ll come,” he counters smartly. Your stomach flips wildly at the words. It had been almost three months since you spent the day with him, and not a single day had passed where he hadn’t been on your mind. Whether you spent your time talking to him or indulging yourself in your newfound kpop guilty pleasures, Yeonjun was almost always on your mind. Staying in touch proved to be harder than expected, due to both time zones and your equally packed schedules. Since he had flown back to Korea, you’d begun your first big girl job in a serious office that required constant business attire and piled the paperwork onto you, the newest and youngest hire.

“I’d love to, but you know how it is at work. I think my boss would combust if I told him I was taking a week’s vacation.” Talking about work made your head swim, as you recalled the stack of paperwork currently residing on your bedroom desk that needed to be finished before you showed up on Monday.

“That’s exactly why you deserve a vacation, Y/N. Look, if you fly into Seoul I promise I’ll make sure you don’t think about work for a second. I know you have time to take off, so take it. Come see me.” The line was quiet for a few seconds as you pondered, weighing your options carefully.

“I miss you,” Yeonjun’s voice came through loud and clear, crumbling the last remaining bit of your resolve. You missed him too, so much more than you ever thought you would, and your heartbeat kicks into high gear at the thought of seeing him again.

“Okay, I’ll file for my week off on Monday. I’ll see you soon, Yeonjun.”

----

When you finally arrive inside of the BigHit building, suitcase in tow and a huge visitor lanyard around your neck, your hands are sweating profusely. A kind staff member had picked you up from the airport and delivered you to the practice room that Yeonjun would presumably be inside of. The walls were soundproofed well, but you could hear the faint beat of bass through the heavy door as you hesitate in pushing it open. Another staff member passes behind you and eyes you closely until recognizing the badge hanging around your neck.

Feeling awkward for hesitating in the hallway after being seen, you push on the door until it swings open in a smooth motion. The wheels of your suitcase click over the seams of the floor, and the sound would have been enough to make you cringe if it weren’t for the pounding music.

A track you don’t recognize echos through the mirrored room as none other than Choi Yeonjun stares intently back at his own dancing reflection. You catch your own reflection; arms crossed in a protective latch over your chest.

His body moves fluidly, as if he had left all of his bones waiting for him at home, and a thrill of excited anxiety crawls through your chest. He was really there, mere feet away, and you were really here in the middle of the BigHit building, achieving the dreams of fans all over the world.

The music stops and your mouth runs dry. Yeonjun’s heaving breath is the only sound in the mirrored room and you try to drive away the thought of the last time you’d heard him pant like that; sweaty and shirtless overtop of you on your rickety secondhand couch.

“You made it.” He says, impressively able to control his voice even after the exertion.

“In one piece, at least.” You say. Your arms stay wound around your body, a protective cage against his stare and his touch. He eyes you carefully and you’re suddenly concerned that your airport-chic appearance is inadequate.

“You look pretty.” He whispers, stepping close enough that his heaving chest almost touches your crossed arms. His hands, fingers calloused and rough, wind around your wrists and tug gently, giving you plenty of time to pull back. But you let him unwind your arms and pull them to your sides. His hands are large and warm and press gently into your skin, grounding you into the room and the moment and the absurdity of the fact that you’re actually here with him in Korea.

“You bleached your hair.” You offer weakly, withering underneath his attention.

“I’m not supposed to tell, but I’m getting ready for pink.” He says. Sweat drips down his temples, meeting and rolling together in tracks down to his chin. He looks just as handsome as you remember him to be months before, but it’s hard to ignore the thinned frame of his face.

“Have you been taking care of yourself?” You ask, finally finding courage to string together a meaningful sentence.

“I’m glad you’re here.” Yeonjun leans into you, supporting himself on the tips of his toes until he’s dangerously close to toppling you both over. He levels a heavy, constant gaze on you, eyes drifting down to the surprised pout of your lips and sliding back to your eyes. In a second you know that he wants to kiss you, and there is nothing more you’d like than for that to happen, so you close your eyes and lean into him; feel the warmth of his breath and you can almost taste the salt of his sweat, but the kiss never comes. Instead, Yeonjun startles and drops his hands from you, takes one huge step back and immediately bends into a deep bow. 

Your back is still facing the door, but you catch a glimpse through the mirror. Jeon Jungkook stands just inside the door, dark wavy hair tied half up in a messy bun, some loose strands framing his face. He’s wearing a t-shirt and loose sweats and rubbing fatigue from his eyes, but he’s somehow even more handsome in person. Your face flushes, desperately trying not to make eye contact with him through the mirror and knowing you failed as soon as he shoots you a small, toothy smile. 

“Didn’t know you had company,” He says in lieu of a greeting as he steps just slightly closer to the two of you. 

“We were just going.” Yeonjun bows again, grabs your wrist and tugs you in a persuasive manner. 

“It’s okay, really.” Jungkook enthuses, eyes crinkling in apparent amusement at Yeonjun’s behavior and before you know it your face twists into a similar smile. It had been a long time since you’d seen Yeonjun so nervous, acting like he was attached to a live wire that kept him moving nonstop. “No need to rush out on my account.” Jungkook adds as Yeonjun tugs you again, leaving your suitcase abandoned in the spot you’d been standing. You open your mouth to protest. 

“Wait! I don’t think that...” Jungkook looks at you pointedly as he rolls the suitcase back over to the two of you. 

“Y/N.” You offer, hands sweating profusely as he passes over the luggage. 

“I don’t think that Y/N would like to leave without her suitcase.” His eyes twinkle with something like an untold joke, an anecdote he wants to share but keeps in the back of his head for later. You thank him shortly, still starstruck and nervous as Yeonjun pulls you out of the door. 

----

“I’m so sorry about that.” Yeonjun apologizes again as you arrive at a new door, this one in a whole new wing of the building that you would have gotten lost finding on your own. 

“It’s okay, Jun. I expect to run into...o-other people.” You stutter as he opens the door, facing the realization that you were probably about to meet Yeonjun’s members too. The dorm was simpler than you expected, opening up to a lightly furnished living room that looked like it had been hastily cleaned- you could see a stack of clothes had been clumsily shoved behind the couch. 

The lack of instant greetings surprises you as you follow Yeonjun blindly into the room but you don’t say anything. You kind of wish that the other four boys would come bursting out, bombard you with questions and jokes and prodding fingers as Yeonjun lets you into his room. The air is still charged from your interrupted kiss, and your fingers curl around the handle of your suitcase as you recall Jungkook’s reaction. He had clearly found it amusing, but was he more interested in teasing Yeonjun or finding out exactly who you were? 

In the moment you had found his attention comical although stressful, like a funny anecdote that Yeonjun might grumble about a few weeks later. Now, you replay it over and over again, worried that every chance interaction with another idol within the building would play out exactly the same. Maybe you weren’t quite cut out for this. Yeonjun had been speaking the whole time, rattling off words you don’t catch as he opens and closes drawers.

“-is that alright?” He asks, spinning on his socked heels to face you. You freeze, trying desperately to claw through your mind for any clues to what he’d said. Yeonjun smirks, closes in on you and raises a well-kept eyebrow. 

“What did I just ask you?” He asks, voice level and cool despite the teasing nature of the question. 

“I-I don’t know.” You admit, a blush rises on your cheeks as his smirk pulls even larger. 

“I asked...” he tucks a stray hair behind your ear, “if you wanted to share a bed. You could always sleep on the couch, but I-”

“No, I’ll sleep with you!” You slap a hand over your mouth as Yeonjun dissolves into giggles. “I mean, I mean, I don’t mind sharing a bed.” You try desperately to break through his laughter but it’s useless, so you succumb to the same fit of giggles. Yeonjun cups your cheeks sweetly, squishing them together in earnest before leaning in the same way he had just minutes prior. Your heart stutters at the knowledge that this kiss was finally happening after three months separated. 

Your lips meet in soft, tentative passes against each other until you recall the feeling. Yeonjun is hesitant, hanging back until you surge forward, kissing him harder and wiggling your tongue between the seam of his lips until he opens them. His teeth rake your bottom lip and nibble hard enough to draw blood, the metallic taste grounding you into the moment until Yeonjun pulls back, thumbs stroking the tops of your cheeks. He places another kiss to your nose, giggling against your skin as you shy away. 

A loud crash sounds from just outside the door and you jump, eyes blowing wide when the sound of overlapping voices grows closer and closer. Yeonjun tells you that the rest of the boys must be back and ushers you out of the room before you can protest. 

In the living room you’re faced with the four of them, all busying themselves with mundane tasks or scrolling through their phones until Yeonjun clears his throat. They look up simultaneously, synchronized enough that you would have laughed under a different circumstance. 

“Everyone, this is, my uh, uh, Y/N.” Yeonjun awkwardly sweeps a hand your way and you flush, feeling small as the four boys you’d watched and laughed with and admired through a screen bowed to you. 

“I really-it’s not...well, hi.” You sigh. 

----

Introductions aside, the night slides by easily until the wear of your travel catches up with you so suddenly that you slump onto the nearest body. Yeonjun shakes you awake and it’s only then that you notice the shoulder you were leaning upon belonged to Beomgyu. You apologize to the boy as soon as you can get your tongue to work properly and are soon whisked away to Yeonjun’s bedroom. The short trip awoke you to an unpleasant degree, almost feeling as if you were suddenly too aware of your surroundings. The lights were too bright, the scent of fabric softener too strong in your nose, the sound of the remaining four people in the living room too loud. And of course, the presence of Yeonjun too much to handle. 

You sit at the foot of the bed and pick at your nails while Yeonjun shuffles around the room, doing something you don’t bother to track closely. 

“Are you going to get ready for bed?” He asks shortly, not even turning to face you. You now realize that he had pulled on pajamas of his own; a too-big graphic t-shirt and a pair of worn sweatpants. Frowning, you head for your own suitcase and dig through the carefully stacked clothes until you find some suitable options. You change quickly, keeping your back to him although you can feel his heavy stare at your back. 

“Did you like them?” He asks. You sit back at the metal headboard and nod thoughtfully. His lips draw into a straight line as he settles beside you. “You and Beomgyu really...got along well.” 

“Sure, I think we all got along well.” You offer, tucking yourself underneath his newly cleaned sheets. For a moment you wonder what he was going to do about the lights overhead, but they extinguish with a press of a button on his phone. Plunged in darkness, you can’t help but feel a bit bolder, indulging in the burn of defiance within you. 

“Why? Are you jealous?” You ask. Yeonjun scoffs and you can feel the sheets pull as he flips underneath them. He says nothing but you can feel the air in the room shift. The bedding feels suffocating. 

“Goodnight, Y/N.” 

----

When you wake, you’re uncharacteristically hot. You notice the sweat beading your neck and forehead as soon as you sit up, desperate to free yourself from the covers. You wonder if Yeonjun is suffering a similar fate, or if his body is used to the brutal heat of his bedroom. You turn to look for him, happy anxiety at the thought of seeing his sleeping form in real time brewing in the pit of your stomach. You couldn’t count the amount of times you’d imagined this exact moment, wondered if he scrunched his face in his sleep or if he looked serene and peaceful, wondered if he snored or spoke or sighed in his sleep. 

But all you saw was crumpled sheets and a small, bright green post-it note with bunched writing. It stuck to the bed sheets as you pulled it up, and you had to blink a few times before you finally understood the gist of the note. Yeonjun was gone, off to do his daily idol duties, and you are welcome to use their shower as none of the boys were home. You scan the note again for any sign of love or sincerity but find nothing more than cold and clinical facts, like a teacher giving instructions to a class. 

Bitterness grows in your chest as you slip into the cramped shower and cool yourself off under a trickle of water. Theoretically, you know that Yeonjun would be busy while you were here. After all, you couldn’t expect the company to let him off of all responsibility just because you were around. Your skin was growing red under the scrub of your fingers. But he could have at least run it by you last night, warned you that he would probably be gone by the time you got up and given you some idea of when he’d be back. What were you supposed to do all day? You stepped out of the shower, flinging your wet hair away from your face. You could barely make it out of this building alone, but you’d be damned if all you did was sit here and wait for him to return. If he wasn’t going to be here, you’d make your own fun.

You were unfamiliar to Seoul, but after navigating yourself out of the BigHit building you felt as if you could conquer anything. You hadn’t realized how much of the day had passed by in your slumber until you stepped into the real world. Dusk had begun to fall over the sky, painting it a hazy purple-pink in anticipation of a sunset. People and cars and buses rushed by with purpose as you stand still and baffled at the city before you. The packed street before you is a little bit intimidating, but reminded you enough of the bustle of your hometown that you took a brave step forward anyway. Crossing so quickly that you almost run into a group of teenage girls, you finally reach some kind of a destination. To be fair, you had done zero planning on sight seeing before coming, so almost every building looked like a destination to you. A particularly cute looking café seemed to manifest itself out of thin air and beckon you in with sweet drinks and sugary snacks. You order and eat greedily with the realization that this is your first real meal since being on the plane yesterday, and the waitress laughs when you tell her that as you flag her down for another piece of cake. 

The café certainly lives up to the hype you make for it, but you notice the employees begin to clean and close things down, so you leave and thank them on the way out. You finally check your phone, hoping that Yeonjun might have sent you an apology or an update, but you see nothing aside from email notifications. Emblazoned by his actions, you continue on your exploration, opening the doors to a clothing shop with so much force that other patrons cringe. Inside, you buy way too many things to fit in your suitcase before traipsing yourself-weighed down by bags- into a nearby restaurant. Something about being in Korea had elevated your appetite to an extreme level, so your stomach growls as soon as you cross over the threshold. The place is crowded, almost packed wall to wall as patrons and employees alike bustle between one another. 

The cute wooden sign reads “seat yourself” so you dodge and weave until you find a tiny table, just big enough for your party of one, hidden in a more private corner of the restaurant. An employee spots you and yells out that he’s going to go get a menu, so you content yourself with people watching in the meantime. At the table diagonal to you, you spot a woman who looks just about the same age as you. Her hair is carefully waved; a deep, shiny brown that flows just down to the top of her chest. Every feature you can spot is immaculate and it makes you feel sick. Her nails are perfectly manicured, not a single chip or hang nail in sight, while your own nailbeds are torn up and bloody as a result of nervous picking. A weird, unwelcome acidity crawls up the back of your throat and demands to be acknowledged, makes your eyes burn with envious tears as the waiter finally delivers a menu and you wonder why you can’t just look that put together and perfect. After you order you can no longer stand to look her way anymore, angry at the fact that you were so resentful of this stranger. 

Your waiter drops your food and utensils with polite haste but you aren’t nearly as hungry as you were before. Noodles and broth swirl around your spoon as the steam rises into your face, paying more attention to the bustle of the open kitchen where you spot a fun streak of vibrant pink hair. Whoever is donning it must have had it done recently. There’s a few small patches of pink dye spotting the back of their neck and it’s quite endearing to think about until you remember- Yeonjun was supposed to be dying his hair pink soon, and that tall frame and broad back look suspiciously familiar, and he still hasn’t sent you any texts, and you think that maybe he was just getting some takeout and heading back home but then he turns away from the counter and heads to your corner of the building. Your mouth goes dry, all the air still and stale in your lungs as his eyes land on yours. He looks away and then looks back again, double taking as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. As if he hadn’t been the one to invite you out to Korea, as if you hadn’t shared a bed last night. And then he moves, finally, walks away from the counter and toward your table with a tray piled with food and your heart hammers against your ribs as he walks right by and settles into the seat across from the perfect girl. She smiles wide as he unloads the food and settles in. 

There’s nothing you can do but stare and fight the sting of your eyes until your waiter comes back around, notices your untouched food and asks if you want a takeout container. You say yes loud enough for Yeonjun to hear, and you can see him flinch but you know he won’t turn around. Not in public, with all these people around. Not when he’s an idol and you’re just a normal girl- a fucking tourist- and not when Miss Perfect is giggling her perfect laugh at whatever he just said. 

The air outside is cold and it stings. Your face is wet but you don’t try to hide it. You don’t know any of these people, and they will never see you again. They probably won’t even remember that you cried on the walk home, weighed down with bags of food and clothes and the knowledge that Yeonjun was lying. 

When you return to the dorm Beomgyu, Soobin and Taehyun are hanging around the living room, watching something on the television. 

“Hey- where’s Yeonjun? He said he was going to dinner, we assumed he was meeting you.” Soobin asks, his tone cautiously trying to hide his confusion. 

“Well, I did go to dinner,” you lift up the bags on your arm, “and so did Yeonjun. At the same place.” Your voice clips and you take a moment wonder if you should go on until Beomgyu mutters a soft “oh”. 

“Well, here’s some food.” The plastic bag thuds on the coffee table. “Not hungry.”

----

You don’t know what time it is when Yeonjun decides to come back, but you have no plans of acknowledging his presence. The room is dimmed, only a bedside lamp left to keep you out of total darkness. You are perfectly content to simmer in your own anger for the night, let him feel it radiate off of your back the whole time you sleep. Until he has the audacity to ask, “Hey, what’s wrong?” You see red in the dark room. Your fingers clench into the pillow, making a victim out of the poor feathers and fabric as you contemplate throwing it at his head. His new hair looks even nicer in the low light; nearly fluorescent and falling in a perfectly styled arc around his face.

“Don’t do that. Act like you don’t know.” You spit. Yeonjun says nothing but he clears his throat awkwardly, as if he’s about to make an argument, but you beat him to it. 

“At least tell me who she is.” You try to hide the waver of your voice but it’s already there to stay. 

“She’s no one! I’m not really supposed to tell anyone about it yet, the guys don’t even know-” 

“They don’t know what? That you’re keeping two different girls in your pocket? Can’t even commit to one for a week long vacation? Jesus, Yeonjun, If you want to...cheat on me, at least wait until I’m not in the country. Fuck, I can’t even call it cheating because you don’t even want to date me! We only met up again a few months ago, and we spent one day together! And we fucked and it was nice and it was fun but what the fuck was it really? I texted you today, you know, to ask where the hell you were, and you never answered. I know that your life is busy, but a warning yesterday would have been nice.” 

“I’m not cheating on you! She’s not- she’s just, someone I- that’s not the point, Y/N! And I’m sorry I didn’t answer you, but I was really busy, and I forgot to bring it up and I’m sorry, but did you really expect me to hang around all day?” You grit your teeth to stop an annoyed screech from hopping out.

“Of course not, Yeonjun. I’m not an idiot. What I expected was some fucking communication. I traveled across the world to come see you, maybe even try to figure out what we are, and so far all I’ve done is wander around the city alone. This isn’t what I wanted to do! I’m missing a week of work for this! I didn’t come out here just to be your little plaything once you get home!” 

“That’s not what I’m doing!” Yeonjun stands up from the bed, rubbing his palms over the back of his neck. “I knew you would never understand. You can never understand how busy this lifestyle is, and I guess I was stupid for believing that you could understand, and that you wouldn’t be mad at me for having to go do my fucking job.” 

“I don’t understand? I don’t understand your life? Will you ever just admit that you only like me because you can mold me around your shit? When I’m back home you can call me at any hour that works for you, and I’ll pick up. You can bitch about your job and your friends and your company and all the pain you have but whenever I call you you’re tired or sick or just don’t feel like it. Guess fucking what Yeonjun. I’m here now. And we share a room and a bed and a city so you can’t keep me miles away and at your beck and call whenever you so well please. I’m right in front of you now, and you need to own up to your shit. You ignored me. Now you’re lying about whoever the fuck that girl was. You don’t get to be a prick just because you’re a famous idol.” Your face is hot and your hands are shaking. Sweat is beading on your forehead just like it did this morning and it makes you itch but you refuse to move a single muscle, hardened to the spot and staring Yeonjun down. You can’t even remember how the argument started, but all you know now is that you can’t stand to look at him any longer. His eyes are wide, bottom lip wobbling. Tears sting at your eyes and your nose burns and you’re ready to lay down or maybe chug a bottle of vodka. 

“I’m going to bed.” You pull the covers over you even though you’re sweltering, turn off the bedside lamp with the switch and clamp your eyes shut. 

----

Your brain never shuts off. Even when you slam your eyes shut and start counting metaphorical sheep, you’re still replaying the argument on a relentless loop. Yeonjun had left the room moments after you tucked yourself in and you had yet to hear the door creak to announce his reappearance, so it was safe to assume that he was sleeping on the couch or holed up with another one of the boys. Or maybe he went crawling back to Miss Perfect. 

The room is suffocating; heat simmers off of every surface even after you’ve thrown off the sheets and the white walls are annoying you. If you ever talk to Yeonjun again it will have to be about his piss poor decorating skills and the fact that he couldn’t even manage to hang up some pictures to break up the never ending white. Your phone says it’s just minutes shy of 2 am, but what does that really mean when you have no idea what time you laid down? Your legs move before your mind decides where you’re going, seemingly possessed by the idea of leaving the room as fast as possible. There’s just enough time to shrug on a crewneck and a pair of sneakers before you find yourself under the blinding fluorescents of the hall that remind you exactly where you are. Tall, sturdy black doors stand on both sides of you, metal accents gleaming and boasting their contents. There’s no easy way to understand the layout of the building, and you assume that’s for the protection of the idols, but it also means that you completely forget the only route you know for leaving the building.  

Had you taken a left or a right? Did you pass by the hallway next to the ladies bathroom or go down it? Had there always been a potted plant next to that office, or did all of the doors just look similar? Somehow, you find yourself back in the place you had first been delivered to when you arrived. The doors were slightly different here, some made of thick wavy glass that was vaguely transparent and others made out of the same black you had become used to. A set of three rooms with the wavy glass were right next to one another, and if your suspicions were correct they were all practice rooms, presumably empty at the lack of music. The thought of the rooms, empty and clean and sporting just enough comfortable furniture in the corner for you to sprawl out on. There was no way that sleep was going to overcome you, but at least you could feel secure in your loneliness for a few hours. 

The metal handle was cold, chilling your sweaty palm instantly, but you’re met with harsh resistance. It doesn’t budge forward no matter how hard you push downward and lean into the door. Out of anger you try one more time, grunting and digging your heels into the carpet of the hallway. 

“You need a card to get in.” A voice calls from what must just be steps behind you, and you jump embarrassingly high before turning reluctantly. Surely some poor late-shift cleaner or intern had seen you struggling with the door and decided to take pity on you before someone really saw you making a fool of yourself. You could only imagine what they were thinking- how they would go home to their pets or family or friends and laugh about the girl they saw throwing her entire weight against a locked door.

But in the split second your neurons begin to fire anew, you know that you weren’t lucky enough to be discovered by another normal member of society. On this already annoyingly unlucky night you come face to face with- once again- Jeon Jungkook. You flush immediately and pull at the hem of your shorts until they do a better job at covering your thighs. You’re still sweaty, strands of hair matted to the back of your neck and your forehead, and the fact that it’s sometime past 2 am and you’ve yelled and cried and tossed and turned and cursed everything that led you to this moment only makes you look worse.  

And, of course, even though it’s sometime past 2 am and maybe Jungkook had also been sweating and tossing and turning and cursing everything too...he still manages to look like an angel. His hair is unruly, all loose and wavy and sticking up in some places. His outfit is almost identical to what you first saw him in, but this it was black instead of gray, and his sleeves are bunched at the elbow, only affording you half a look at his lithe muscles and tattoos. His lips split in the same toothy grin as he gestures a small plastic card your way. How dare he look so handsome no matter the circumstance. He’s so much closer than he had been before, merely a foot away from you in the narrow hallway. Up this close you can see how perfect his skin is, as smooth and pore less as Yeonjun’s and Miss Perfect’s. 

“No, I don’t need it.” You dismiss his hand with a small wave, sour after reminding yourself why you were here to begin with. 

“Seems like you do?” Jungkook’s voice was oddly small too. He retracts his hand halfway, making sure you could still take it from him if you want to. 

“No, what I need is a new boyfriend.” You spit the words before your conscious can review them, before you can remember that Yeonjun isn’t your boyfriend, that he isn’t technically anything except a rekindled flame you traveled across the world for. Jungkook pulls his arm all the way back and his face softens. You know he puts the pieces together quickly and you can feel the sympathy pass through the hall.  “Nevermind. I’m sure you’re busy, or need to pass by or- yeah, sorry.” You stand aside, press against the wall and wait for him to walk away, but he stays grounded and levels his soft but deadly gaze on you. It’s an unwelcome reminder that he’s one of the most famous idols in the world and you’re standing in the middle of his company building; tired and teary.

“Did you fight? Is that why you’re wondering through our part of the building alone?” He gestures at one of the doors further down the hallway, a solid black one, and you can make out a shiny plaque with his name on it and some cute little decorations taped on the wall. 

“I’m so sorry, I can’t find my way around this place- I just couldn’t sleep so I wandered and I guess I ended up in...your part of the building.” You can feel the heat radiate off of your face as he smiles again, nose scrunching at your panic. 

“Cute.” His nose wiggles one more time before he schools his features as if the word didn’t nearly knock you on your ass. Cute. Cute! He has the audacity to stand here in the middle of the night and call you cute. “Seriously, if you need somewhere to sit down or sleep, there’s a couch in my studio, it’s clean in there, you can-”

“Oh, no! Jungkook,” you blush stupidly at using his name, “I can’t ask you to do that. I’ll just circle back to Yeonjun’s and sleep it off.” The thought makes your stomach churn, the idea of trying to fall asleep in the exact room your almost relationship fell to pieces. Surely the carpet couldn’t be too uncomfortable-

“No, please, I’m offering. You look tired, and if you fought...well, I know how awkward it can be in the morning. Come on.” He walks away before you can protest and some other worldly sense makes you follow him. You never expected to be in this position, but you also never thought that Yeonjun would disappoint you so much. Inside of the partially padded studio is a surprisingly large sofa with a charming patchwork blanket draped over the back. Jungkook stands awkwardly next to his desk and picks at his fingernails as you sit down. You sink in to the couch and instantly feel more comfortable than you have in days, the soft scent of lavender and the warm yellow lights bring you as close to relaxation as you can get. 

“I saw him with another girl.” You lose your filter again and Jungkook’s eyes narrow. “He says it wasn’t a date, but he also won’t tell me who she was, and the rest of them all thought he was with me so he’s obviously lying. We aren’t technically dating, so can I even be mad? He’s lying no matter what, and he didn’t even tell me he would be out all day or text me during it. But I also still have three more days to stick out here.” A few hot tears are slipping down your face and you can’t help but feel insecure about them. 

Jungkook says nothing of the tears but chews thoughtfully on his thumbnail. He leans his hip against his desk, intimidating and sharp yet soft and handsome and sweet for letting you stay here and spill your anger into his studio. His socked foot taps on the floor in a rhythm unknown to you, and you can’t help but wonder how many people would kill to be in your exact spot. You notice a day-by-day calendar that’s quite a few days behind on his desk, and it makes you smile until he’s moving, lowering himself to the floor just a few inches away from your feet. 

His fists clench- subtle enough that you wouldn’t even notice if the room didn’t feel so charged- and as he looks up at you, you see that a look somewhere between anger and pity paints his face. It’s embarrassing to sit here like this, so clearly under his scrutiny with nothing but your pajamas to cover you. 

“I’m sorry.” Jungkook finally speaks again and shakes his head so much that a few ebony pieces of hair slip into his eyes in a near-perfect arc. You shrug. “Really, Y/N. I’m sorry. That’s an asshole move, no matter who the other girl is. You don’t deserve to be treated like that, and after all the trouble you put in to come out here and see him-he’s lucky we don’t cross paths often.” He sighs and suddenly he’s sitting next to you on the couch, the weight and heat of his body making the situation that much more real and that much more odd. You must still have unshed tears lining your eyes when you find the courage to look up at him because he frowns. “Please, don’t cry! It’s the first time I’ve ever had a girl in here, and well, it’d be pretty embarrassing if she spends the whole time crying.” 

A shit eating grin sprouts on his face as soon as he sees your lips upturn with laughter. It’s hard not to be grateful for the joke, so you laugh and thank him for trying to make you feel better. 

“And thanks again, for the place to sleep. Or, try.” You have a feeling that sleep will evade you all night, no matter how cozy the room makes you. 

“If you don’t think you’re going to sleep-” Jungkook stands suddenly and rushes over to his desk. When he gets there, he turns his wide desktop computer until it faces the couch and logs in. “Then at least watch some movies! Here,” he puts a wireless keyboard in your lap- “whatever you wanna watch, I have it all.” You hesitate for just a moment and then type in the title of one of your favorite films with seconds to spare before Jungkook throws the patchwork blanket over both of your laps. He sinks back into the couch and you follow his lead, careful to keep a good few inches of space between the two of you because holy shit, you’re sitting next to Jungkook, and holy shit he’s watching a movie with you, and holy shit he just saw you cry and he looks so handsome from the side. 

You pay more attention to Jungkook than you do the movie. It’s funny to watch someone who feels so extraordinary do something as normal as watching a movie and realize that he really is human. And the way he crinkles his nose and widens his doe-eyes makes your heart stutter with attraction and then guilt at the thought of Yeonjun, who still makes your palms sweat and your heart shake with anticipation of his touch despite your argument. 

But here’s Jungkook, being kind and open and raw and willing to stay up with you on this random sleepless night although you only met by chance mere hours ago. And his kind eyes widen and narrow and crinkle when he laughs at the movie, and he offers you a second blanket and a throw pillow when your eyes get too heavy for you to focus, and you don’t think that you’re imagining things as you feel gentle fingers comb through your hair. 

----

Your head feels like it’s filled with cotton when you wake up, confusion soaks your senses as you piece together where you are and how you got there and who’s lap your head is laying in. As if he could read your thoughts, Jungkook lets out a long and loud groan from above you. Clearly he had fallen asleep where he is now, head lolled against the back of the couch and a throw pillow folded between his arms. 

“Good morning.” He drawls, voice still deep and thick from slumber. Out of all the things you never thought you would do, waking up to Jungkook is near to the top. 

“M-morning.” You manage to call back as you run your hands over your face, hoping to absolve yourself of any evidence of shock. Jungkook’s studio is just as welcoming as it had been to you last night, but now a deep sense of guilt creeps through you. Yeonjun might have woken up by now, maybe he was ready to talk and try to make things better, maybe he’s been calling and texting you and you haven’t seen any of it. Your phone is nowhere to be found as you dig around in the blanket, a noise of distress clawing up the back of your throat. Heart pounding, you put a hand underneath the couch and slide it back and forth until your fingers graze over the cold, hard mass that must be your phone. As soon as it’s in your grasp you can see that the time is just a few minutes past 8am, and that you indeed do have a few texts waiting from Yeonjun. 

“Oh, Jungkook, thank you again for-y-you know, but I have to go, do you mind showing me which way to go?” Poor sense of direction had landed you here to begin with, and you wouldn’t let it make this problem any bigger again. Thankfully he doesn’t protest; just waits by the door as you straighten out your pajamas. Out in the hallway, the lights are bright and imposing and you recognize a headache from the late night is starting to creep up behind your eyes. No one really seems to be around to see the two of you, and you are nothing short of grateful for that when Jungkook makes a quick stop and you barrel into his back, face burning with embarrassment. He laughs as you sputter apologizes and wave for him to keep leading the way, but he insists on stopping and turning to face you. His face is puffy with sleep, eyes still scrunching against the lights, but they’re still clear and gentle and it’s hard to miss the teasing twitch of his full lips in such close proximity.

A wave of admiration crashes through you, followed quickly by a sickening feeling of guilt. Yeonjun was probably waiting for you to come talk things out, and here you were drooling over a different boy. “I’m okay, lets keep going.” Urging him on with a gentle push to his muscled back is the most you can do since you still don’t notice anything distinctive to lead you back to the correct dorm. Just a few more steps down the hallway and you can hear voices, overlapping shouts,  and one voice you would recognize anywhere coming from the way you were about to turn. Before you even had time to open your mouth to voice your concern to Jungkook, Yeonjun is stomping down the hallway, a panicked looking Taehyun in tow. 

His face is draw, sharp features heightened by either confusion or anger- it’s hard to tell- as he realizes who’s standing in front of him. The two boys are fairly evenly matched in height but Yeonjun still squares up, lifting his shoulders higher and craning his neck. You know he knows you’re there; you shared a moment of eye contact in the seconds before he leveled a glare at Jungkook. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Yeonjun spits, anger shaking the fists at his sides. Jungkook is shocked, you can tell even from behind him, the way he recoils just slightly and scoffs as if he can’t believe his ears. 

“Look, this doesn’t need to be a fight. I was just helping Y/N get back to your dorm.” You’re amazed at how well he controls his anger, especially after seeing the anger he held back against Yeonjun the night before. You take this as a queue to step out from behind Jungkook’s frame, allowing Yeonjun a better look at you. 

“Oh, before or after she spent the night in your studio? Just couldn’t resist giving her a place to stay. Someone to sleep with?” Anger flares in your stomach, lighting a fire underneath your skin. 

“What the fuck, Yeonjun? Do you really think that I would-”

“Sleep with him? Of course. Why wouldn’t you? Look at the state of you two, don’t tell me you didn’t fuck.” There was simply no believing what was coming out of his mouth, and his words only made you wish that you had acted on the feelings you felt brewing last night. 

“What if I did? You certainly don’t want me! I’m sorry I went looking for companionship somewhere else!” It’s much too quiet in the hallway after that, the only evidence that the world hadn’t stopped turning is Jungkook’s hand that comes up to rest on your shoulder. 

“So you did.” Yeonjun rubs his chin, taking a step backwards in what you assume is disbelief. Tears creep into the corners of your eyes, stubbornly burning and forcing you to blink until your vision is blurry. Jungkook says something you don’t quite catch through the static buzzing in your ears. You feel exhausted, weak at the knees with disbelief at just how awful this interaction was going; so lost that it takes Jungkook shaking your shoulder to bring you back to reality. 

“Please, I don’t want to talk about this here. Yeonjun, let’s go, please.” You beg, walking toward him before he even responds. The idea of being caught in this odd trifecta made you sweat. Jungkook protests but you wave him off quickly, assuring that there was nothing else he could do. As upset as Yeonjun was, you knew that he would calm down substantially once the older boy was gone. 

The walk to the dorm is thankfully short, and Taehyun tries his best at making small talk while Yeonjun trails behind like a petulant child. As soon as you cross into the dorm you feel awkward and hot all over like everyone is watching you even though Taehyun is already disappearing into his room and locking the door while Yeonjun breezes right past you. 

“I’m not playing the silent game.” You follow Yeonjun into the kitchen where he has his head buried in the fridge, making a point to rattle every bottle and package inside of it. 

“Alright, fine. Then you get to tell me the truth.” His voice is softer now, much less elevated and harsh than it was just minutes before. “Did you spend the night with him?” It rattles your bones to hear the edge of hurt in his voice. 

“I was wandering around the building in the middle of the night, and he was too- so I told him what was going on and he offered for me to stay in his studio, on the couch. And I said yes-” Yeonjun’s face crumples. “We watched a movie and I fell asleep.” 

“Why didn’t you just come back? I texted you, Y/N. We literally just argued about communication and the first thing you do is run to a different guy? If I’m not good enough for you, just admit it.” 

“I could say the same exact thing to you. Why am I here? Should I just book a flight home tonight and call it quits? Do you even want to try this?” Yeonjun cracks open a bottle of water and drinks half in one go, avoiding your gaze at all costs. “And I did nothing with Jungkook. Because I respect you, and whatever the fuck this-” You gesture between the two of you, feet apart, “is. Or was.” 

“Don’t say that.” Yeonjun’s voice cracks, reminiscent of the way he used to sound on the phone when he called you at the end of the day. “I- I don’t want to hear you say that. Please.” A tremor of hurt shakes your bones, creates an unpleasant lump in your throat that you try and fail to swallow. Yeonjun appears to you now as similar as he did in your teenage years; uncertain and small and his wide, glassy eyes latching on to you like a lifeline. And you can’t help but remember how you used to be too; devoted to him and naïve about where life was going to take you. 

“I don’t want to say it either, Yeonjun. I hate saying it. But we aren’t the same people we were all those years ago. We’re in two different lives, and as much as I want to be able to fit into yours...it’s never going to happen.” Your body weight feels suddenly too much, like you’re being filled with lead and sunk to the bottom of the ocean to be forgotten. Yeonjun finally closes your perpetual gap in a slow gait that seemed like it would last forever. His eyes are red, puffy, rimmed with unshed tears. Dark circles ring his eyes and you know they’re because he probably didn’t sleep last night either. His lips are chapped and dry, pouting in an incurable sadness. Your fingers itch to cup his jaw and litter him with kisses until he finally grins. 

“Are you saying you don’t love me?” If any other noise had happened at the same time he spoke, you wouldn’t have heard the question. A stake strikes through your heart at the words, scarring your soul for years to come. 

“No, Junnie. I love you so much.” Your bottom lip wobbles and you gasp out a sob, “I just don’t think we’re going to work this time around. We’re both too busy, and on different tracks, and I think we just have to be more r-realistic.” You have to close your eyes, unable to watch the way tears begin to cascade down his own face. “I’m sorry.” You stand alone, still and cold and clamping your eyes shut so hard that they hurt. 

Yeonjun’s body molds around your form, tight and warm and shuddering slightly from his own tears. He smells like laundry detergent and musk and you shake with regret as his arms wind around your back and hold you as close to his frame as you think is humanly possible. Your tears soak his crewneck as the fabric scratches your skin. His heart beat is erratic, but you know yours isn’t fairing any better, and you can’t help but curse the universe for bringing you all this way with him just to shoot you back down. 

“I’m sorry too. For not being enough.” His words rumble into your hair and you can’t even find the energy to refute them and instead just shake your head. Your head spins in wild circle as Yeonjun finally stops shaking underneath you in favor of cupping your face in tender hands, forcing you to open your eyes. His look felt more intimate than anything else you had shared before; a pure and expressive opening into his most vulnerable form and the knowledge that you were the reason he was feeling it. 

“I think I should try to catch an earlier flight home.” You aren’t quite sure exactly why you say it, but Yeonjun doesn’t seem surprised at the notion. After all, there would be nothing to stick around for. He still had to work and you had no relationship left to hang on to. You hadn’t even gotten around to unpacking your suitcase. Yeonjun nods sadly, wiping at a few more tears before clearing his throat. His voice is thick, the evidence of his emotion loud and clear and your heart breaks at the thought of truly walking away from him. 

“I’ll miss you, Y/N.” There’s no telling if he would ever contact you after this, or if you would contact him. Maybe the two of you will live with odd shadows of one another in the back of your heads for the rest of your lives- a teenage romance rekindled years later only to explode and crackle and eventually fade into the dark.

[itsclydebitches]

re: that ask you posted a couple days ago about the male and female representation in RWBY, part of what makes RWBY's whole 'girl power' thing ring exceptionally hollow to me is the fact that there are like... no women in positions of real power in remnant. like at all. except the big bad.

winter is second in command to james. glynda is second in command to ozpin. all of the headmasters are men (for no discernible reason, imo; why theodore and not dorothea?). the leader of the ace ops was a white man (and then winter seemed to take over clover's position instead of either of the women of color on the team, and she was still second to james). RWBY is an all girl team, but JNPR was led by a boy despite a girl arguably being far more qualified (pyrrha). the happy huntresses are all women, and robyn had no real power to speak of--she didn't even manage to win the election, because jacques rigged it, and then the council ceased to matter. there was one (1) woman on the council, but she was so inconsequential that i can't even remember her name. (i suppose we're lucky it was the guy and not her who james shot lol) jacques controls the SDC instead of willow, even though he's not even a schnee by blood and actually married into the family for power. (and we don't even know how he got it over his wife.)

and then there's the white fang, which ghira led and not kali--and it's ghira who leads menagerie itself, while kali seems to be a housewife. sienna had five minutes of screentime before being brutally killed and her position assumed by adam, a man. cordovin is basically a one off lackey we haven't even thought about before or since. neo was second to roman. you have cinder, sure, who is a second but to salem, a woman, and raven as the leader of the branwen tribe--but what does it really say about your 'girl power' narrative when the only women with genuine systemic power in your world are villains or antagonists with massive bodycounts??

atla has the same sort of problem--a couple great female characters, but all the leadership positions are men (except the kyoshi warriors, an all girls group, and even then the leader of their island is an old man) and the one female mentor figure also turns out to be evil--but it at least has some great writing to help overlook that fact, and it came out in the mid-00's and so has some sort of excuse of being a product of its time. but rwby didn't even start until 2013 and it's still going and still making these kinds of decisions well into 2021.

where is this supposed girl power, exactly? am i really supposed to overlook the very patriarchal worldbuilding just because the title characters are girls?

That's an excellent summary of the situation, anon, and as with so much in RWBY, it comes down to the full context. Any one of these examples isn't necessarily going to mean much on its own. It's when you look at the pattern that you can start making a case for those conclusions: Why is the show marketed on "girl power" set in a world where men hold the vast majority of that power? And, more importantly, why is that setup not the point? We could easily have a story where that lopsided gender dynamic is the problem that the girls are looking to fix, but... that story doesn't exist. Like the problems discussed with Jaune, the supposed point here exists only on the surface. Dig just the tinniest bit — the above — and you hit on a lot of structural problems with this "girl power" world.

To add just a few details to what you've already said:

Salem indeed has power, but she's never allowed to fully use it. Each volume the frustration with this grows as Salem accumulates more abilities and then just sits on them. From literally hiding out for a thousand years to worries that she won't use the Staff in Volumes 9-10, Salem really isn't allowed to be the threat she's presented as on the surface. And yes, this is absolutely due in part to the "She's too OP and the writers don't know how to let her be that powerful while still having the heroes win" issue, but again, context. That problem doesn't exclude others occurring simultaneously.

Same double explanation with Summer. Yes, dead moms are an incredibly common trauma to dump on a protagonist, but it still left Yang and Ruby with Tai as their primary influence. And Qrow. The uncle becomes the extended family influence while Raven is the absent one/eventual antagonist. It's personal power as opposed to political power, but Tai, Qrow, Ozpin, formerly James... most of the mentors are men. Maria, a key exception, has been ignored in that regard. The story announced that she was Qrow's inspiration, setup her being Ruby's new mentor, and then... nothing. Nothing has come of that. She disappeared for a volume and then went off to Amity and was literally forgotten by the story when evacuating everyone was the finale's whole point.

Like that Endgame moment I mentioned, the Happy Huntresses feel a little too forced to me. Yes, it's the same basic idea as in ATLA, but ATLA, as you say, has a lot more going for it. The Happy Huntresses feel... on the nose? Idk exactly how to explain it. Like, "Here they are! Another team of all women! Isn't this how progressive storytelling works? Just ignore how this is a one-off team of minor characters compared to the world building issues discussed above." And if you're not paying attention, you miss just how insignificant they are, with a side of Robyn being, well, Robyn. The Kyoshi Warriors, at least, are based off of Kyoshi. A woman avatar who is a significant part of their history. That is, presumably, why they're an all women warrior group (but who notably still teach Sokka). The Happy Huntresses are all huntresses because...? There's no reason except that meta "We want to look progressive" explanation. Just like having all the women superheroes team up for a hot second so people get excited and ignore the representation problems across, what? 21 films? Don't get me wrong, I love that May is among the Happy Huntresses. I think including her in the explicitly all-women group was one of the better things RWBY has done in a long time, but the rest is still a mess.

RWBY is arguably about these smaller groups as opposed to systematic power (despite the writers trying to work that in with things like the White Fang and the election. Not to mention the implication that everything in Atlas is fine now that evil Ironwood has died and taken the symbol of wealth (the city) with him. We saw a human holding hands with a faunus after all. Racism and corruption solved, I guess.) So yes, our group is dominated by women... but Whitley is the one saving Nora, helping to defeat the Hound (plus Willow), thinking of the airships, and providing the blueprints they need to escape. Salem is our Big Bad, except Ironwood is the one the volume focuses on. Ruby is our leader, but Jaune is the one leading the group into the whale and getting praised for how heroic he is. Ren does more to shake things up, even if he's painted as the one in the wrong. Oscar gets to confront Salem and destroys the whale threat. Ozpin provides the information they need to evacuate. Meanwhile, when the girls do things in Volume 8 it's almost always followed by a long-stint of passiveness. Nora opens the door so she can be unconscious for most of the volume. Penny keeps Amity up so she can also be unconscious for a good chunk of time. Ruby sends her message and then sits in a mansion. Blake fights so she can tearfully beg Ruby to save her. Weiss, as said, takes a backseat to Whitley (and Klein). They forward the plot, absolutely, but comparatively it doesn't feel like enough.

It's that pattern then, no one specific example. More and more the personal power, not just the systematic power already built into Remnant, seems to be coming from the men. Not all the time, but enough that scenes like the tea drinking moment feel like a part of a much larger problem. Pietro taking control, Watts hacking, and Ambrosius literally remaking her when Penny is supposed to already be in control of herself and her fate. Winter being presented as the active mentor to Weiss, only to turn around and claim that Ironwood was actually responsible for everything. Ruby, Weiss, Blake, and May straight up commenting on how awful things are out there while Yang, Jaune, Ren, and Oscar lead the charge against Salem — with the latter three doing the most to forward that mission (no fear, semblance, cane). As others have only half-joked, Yang's supposedly badass moment was bringing up a mother she's ignored for six volumes and briefly blowing up the immortal woman for a couple of seconds (with Ironwood's bombs). Even Marrow is arguably the most significant Ace Op after Clover. Vine isn't actually a character, Elm slightly less so, Harriet is there to go crazy and try to drop a bomb (notably before admitting to never-before-existed feelings for Clover), but Marrow? He's the one who breaks out. Who is meant to heroically stand up against Ironwood. Who comments on how awful it is that teenagers are fighting and, regardless of how messed up the moral messages are, is supposedly pushing for active change while all the women in his group, including Winter, insist on maintaining the status quo. Look at all these choices as a whole, it makes throwaway worldbuilding choices like "All the Maidens are women" feel pretty hollow. Why does it matter if Amber is a Maiden if she dies in a flashback so Ozpin can struggle to pass on the power? If Pyrrha dies before becoming one so Jaune can angst about it? If Raven is one and then disappears from the story entirely? If Winter has enough power to break Ironwood's aura, but supposedly had no power throughout every other choice she made getting here? If Penny is one, but is continually controlled by men and then asks another man to help her die? It's just really unconvincing, once you look past the surface excitement of a woman looking cool with magic powers.

When you do consider the whole of the story — both in terms of our world building and who is forwarding the plot in the latter volumes, getting the emotional focus, being proactive, etc. — there are a lot of problems that undermine the presumed message RT wants to write. They say, "girl power" by marketing RWBY with these four women, but too many of the storytelling decisions thoroughly undermine that, revealing what's likely a deeply ingrained, subconscious bias.

[the-al-chemist]

When Stars Ignite - Chapter 44

HPHM Rockstar AU

A/N:

General Warning: This whole fic has a general warning of being NSFW / 18+. We will give specific warnings for every chapter in itself, but several adult themes will be more or less present in every chapter, may it be explicitly or in mention. These include sexual topics, drug abuse, (ab)use of alcohol, smoking and a whole lot of cursing.

Specific Warning: Language, references to drinking, hangover symptoms, references to NSFW topics.

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Find the masterpost here, the previous chapter here and the next one here. The songs featured before every chapter can be found on this pretty badass playlist here.

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This work is a collaboration with @lifeofkaze

Taglist: @slytherindisaster @night-rhea @carewyncromwell @thatravenpuffwitch @anthamariemayfair

Thirty-six hours

Rolling in pain

Praying to someone

Free me again

~ John Lennon - Cold Turkey ~

A beam of light streamed through a gap in the curtains, illuminating Artemis’ hotel room and waking her from a fitful sleep. She groaned loudly, screwing up her eyes and putting her arm over her face.

Her head was pounding, and the light was causing a splitting pain to radiate behind her eyes. Her mouth was dry and furry, and she felt as if she were on a boat. Maybe she was on a boat. She slowly lifted her arm away from her face and opened one eye to check. No. Definitely just in her hotel room.

A wave of nausea hit her, and she clamped her hand to her mouth. She sat straight up and swung her legs out the side of her bed, and felt her foot hit something. Looking down, she saw that she had positioned her bin next to her on the floor. She reached down to pick it up, ready to be sick, but by the time she had it on her lap, the nausea had passed.

Placing the bin next to her on the floor, she noticed that on her nightstand was a glass of water. Just what she needed. She took a few sips, leaning back against her pillow, and looked more closely at her surroundings.

Given the fact that she couldn’t remember much after the barman gave her and Lizzie a second round of shots for free, she was pleasantly surprised at how well-organised she’d been when she got back to her room. As well as the bin and a glass of water, her phone was close to hand and plugged in to charge, and her jeans, bag and shoes were stacked in a tidy pile on the dressing table.

Feeling proud of her drunken self, Artemis picked up her phone and turned it on, still sipping her water. Immediately, a barrage of notifications appeared on her home screen, alerts pinging over and over as if she were receiving a message in morse code.

In total, she had three Instagram notifications from Lizzie’s official Instagram account, a few dozen follow requests, six missed calls, and seven messages, all from Charlie. She opened the messages to read what he’d sent her.

Hey, mate, where did you go? Can’t find you anywhere. Have checked igniters so shall we head back to the hotel?

Oops. She had been so annoyed with Charlie that she hadn’t bothered to tell him she’d left the arena. Hopefully he hadn’t waited around for her for too long.

You’re out with Lizzie? Curveball, but alright. Hope you guys have fun!

The next few messages started to get more and more desperate in tone.

Look, I’m all for you two having a good time, but please be safe. Text to let me know when you get back to the hotel, or call if you need a hand getting back, yeah?

Okay, I’m coming to get you. Where are you?

We’re just getting in a taxi now. Are you still at the club from the Instagram stories?

Artemis, this isn’t funny. Where the fuck are you?!

And finally:

Answer your fucking phone, please.

Oh dear. She could only hope that Charlie didn’t spend too long wandering the streets of Dublin looking for her and Lizzie. Although she didn’t know what he was making such a fuss about. They were only having a bit of fun.

She held her glass of water against her forehead. She stared at the phone, thinking about what to reply, when three dots appeared in the bottom left hand corner of the screen. Charlie was typing. She waited, and the phone pinged again.

Hope your head feels alright this morning, you boozehound. Going down to breakfast in a bit if you’re not too hungover to eat.

Artemis actually did feel too hungover to eat, but she needed coffee. And orange juice.

Fine. Bring paracetamol.

She pressed the send button and laid her phone down on the nightstand. With great effort, she dragged herself out of bed and into the en suite, where she removed her makeup and sat on the floor of the shower to wash herself.

Last night’s clothes smelt awful, like stale tequila. She dry heaved as she picked them up and threw them into her laundry bag. Strangely, her bra wasn’t to be found anywhere. She would look for it later, she decided; her body was craving caffeine and she just wanted to get out of the stuffy hotel room. She changed into a pair of leggings and a t-shirt and half-crawled downstairs to the canteen, grabbed a coffee and a juice, and sat by an open window. Moments later, she was joined by Lizzie, who was wearing a pair of Ray Ban sunglasses - real ones, not like the knock offs Artemis had once bought at a stall in Camden Market - and an oversized black hoodie that almost reached to her knees. She looked as rough as Artemis felt, and was limping slightly. She grabbed herself a coffee and came to sit next to Artemis.

“I’m very jealous of those,” Artemis muttered, pointing at the sunglasses.

“You should have worn some,” replied Lizzie, opening several sachets of sugar and pouring them one at a time into her milky coffee. I don’t know how you’re able to be up and about without them.”

“I’ll manage. Besides, I don’t think I could get away with wearing sunglasses inside. I’m not a rockstar, remember?”

“No, but you are married to Ashton Kutcher.”

“Of course, how could I forget?” Artemis grinned. “Talking of forgetting, how much of last night do you actually remember?”

“I remember up to us dancing on the bar and you flashing the barman in exchange for a round of free shots.”

“I thought I snogged him for the shots.”

“You did both, I think,” Lizzie sipped her coffee. “Do you remember how we got back?”

Artemis shook her head, and was about to ask whether Lizzie remembered either, but was interrupted by the arrival of Charlie and Andre, who joined them at their table, Charlie with a bacon sandwich and Andre with a bowl of fruit, granola, and yoghurt.

“Well, well, well,” Charlie laughed, placing a packet of paracetamol tablets on the table between them. “If it isn’t the tequila sisters.”

Both Lizzie and Artemis groaned.

“Do you have to talk so loudly?” Artemis said, rolling her eyes.

“And do you have to talk about” - Lizzie made a soft urging noise - “tequila?”

“Sorry, I couldn’t resist. What were you two talking about before we interrupted you?”

“Just trying to figure out how we got back.”

“Do you not remember?” Charlie asked, and both Lizzie and Artemis shook their heads. He raised his eyebrows and took a bite of his sandwich.

“Well, I might not remember getting back to the hotel, but I was very organised when I got there,” Artemis reached across the table, took Charlie’s sandwich from him, bit into it, and put the rest back on his plate. He stared in turn at his empty hands, her face, and the sandwich, his mouth slightly open. “I put my phone on charge, and had water ready and everything. I even folded up my jeans, Andre.”

“So proud of you.”

“Don’t be proud of her,” Charlie laughed out loud, picking up his breakfast once more. “She did fuck all. Orion and I came and took them both home and I sorted her shit out for her.”

“Wait, you did all that?” Artemis asked him. Lizzie shrunk back in her chair.

“Yeah. Except for taking your jeans off. You did that by yourself.”

“I did?”

“Shortly before you passed out.”

“Huh,” Artemis frowned. She wasn’t sure if she felt entirely comfortable with the idea of Charlie being in her hotel room, especially with her being unable to remember anything about it, but there wasn’t much point dwelling on it. At least it was only Charlie, and she’d returned with almost all of her possessions. “Do you know what happened to my bra?”

Charlie blinked.

“No,” he said, slowly. “No, I don’t know what happened to your bra.”

“Oh!” Lizzie gasped. “That was your bra I found in my handbag!”

Charlie and Andre exchanged wry looks. Charlie shook his head, and Andre chuckled to himself.

“You two really did have a good night,” he said. “It looked fun in the videos.”

“Videos?” Lizzie said, putting her coffee down on the table. “What videos?”

“The ones you put on Instagram, darling. I must say, your dancing was fabulous. Even I would have considered going there, and you know how I’m not one for that sort of thing.”

Artemis smirked, and Lizzie laughed quietly. Charlie, however, looked very serious.

“You realise that you put those videos on your official account, right?” he asked, and Lizzie’s face paled.

“What?”

“Yeah, you should delete them before Ethan sees.”

“Are they that bad?” asked Lizzie, and Artemis pulled her phone out of her pocket. Lizzie pushed her sunglasses onto her forehead, and the two of them watched the videos together.

They started off tame, just the two of them clinking glasses together and drinking shots, then there was a video of the barman letting Artemis light the flaming sambucas. After that things got a bit more raucous: the two of them dancing on top of the bar, Artemis making out with the barman, Lizzie dancing for a group of men as if she were about to do a striptease, with Artemis calling out Orion as she filmed the scene. There were clips of them doing body shots, not just with each other, but with strangers as well, and the barman getting a bollocking from what looked like his boss. Artemis sniggered as she watched the scenes unfold, but Lizzie was growing more and more anxious.

“Shit,” she whispered. “Fuck. No, Ethan’s going to go apeshit.”

“Just delete the videos before he sees them,” Charlie shrugged, a reassuring tone to his voice.

“That’s not going to help! They’re online, and all those people are filming,” Lizzie shook her head and bit her bottom lip, clearly distressed. “They’ll be all over the internet already, and the thing about Orion… Ethan’s going to lose it.”

“It’s alright, Liz. Just delete them for now, and we can work out the rest later.”

“I can’t! My phone is dead, I…” Lizzie’s voice tailed off, and she stood up from the table. “I have to go and charge it up. This is such a fucking mess.”

Lizzie whisked away. Artemis frowned as she watched her, and Charlie gave her a reassuring smile.

“She’s not angry with you, don’t worry,” he said, batting her hand away as she once more reached for his plate. “I will be if you keep stealing my food, though.”

“I just don’t see what the big deal is.”

“The big deal is that this is my breakfast. Get your own.”

“Not your food, Lizzie’s Instagram,” Artemis rolled her eyes. “We went out and had fun, why would Ethan be annoyed about that?”

“He wants the band on their best behaviour because of how iffy the label has been about the budget stuff,” Charlie said, returning to his breakfast.

“Who cares? They’re rockstars, aren’t they meant to be a bit off the rails?”

“I’m with you, darling,” said Andre. “Wild stories, bit of drama, juicy gossip. Fans love it. I don’t care what they get up to, as long as they all look good doing it. But I’m not in charge, Ethan is, and he’s a spoilsport. And he’s not going to be happy about this, especially how it makes it a little bit obvious with the whole Liz and Orion sitch.”

“Andre,” Charlie gave him a warning look, “that’s not meant to be common knowledge.”

“But it is now, sweetie.”

“It’s fine, Charlie,” Artemis told him. “Lizzie told me about Orion last night. I know all the ins and outs.”

“Not something I want to hear about in detail.”

“I definitely want to hear about the details,” Andre crossed one leg over the other and leaned with one elbow on the table. “How many drinks did it take for Lizzie to get into the really dirty stuff?”

“Can we just not?” Charlie said, before Artemis had a chance to answer Andre’s question. Andre gave him a sulky pout and winked at Artemis.

“I’m off, anyway,” he said, rising from the table with a dramatic sigh. “The coffee here is ghastly. I’m going to Starbucks for an iced matcha latte. Can I get either of you two anything?”

Artemis and Charlie declined Andre’s offer, and he flounced out of the room, stopping only to compliment a lady at the coffee machine on her scarf, leaving the two of them alone.

“Thanks for last night,” Artemis said, after a few moments of silence. “You know. Making sure we got back safe, and the water, and everything.”

“You’re welcome. I was kind of worried about the two of you, the amount of alcohol you had,” Charlie shrugged. “You were both so smashed, I don’t reckon you’d have gotten back without help.”

“Were we annoying?”

“Oh, yeah. Really fucking annoying.”

“Sorry,” Artemis grimaced. “Hope I didn’t embarrass myself too much.”

“Not really.”

“Except for taking my trousers off, of course.”

“There was that. Well, you can’t say I’ve never seen your pants anymore,” Charlie grinned as Artemis put a hand to her face. “Don’t worry. They definitely look better on you than they would on me.”

Artemis pulled a face at him, but softened quickly.

“I mean it,” she said, quietly. “It was really kind of you. I’ve done nothing to deserve that.”

“I just did what any decent person would do, that’s all. You don’t need to deserve things like that.”

“I guess not, but I’m not that nice to you. I was a dick to you the other day, at the services,” she frowned, “and you just put up with it.”

“You misunderstood the situation. If what you’d assumed was true, then you’d have been right to tell me off,” Charlie gave her another shrug.

“You could have just told me what was actually going on, though.”

“It wasn’t my secret to tell.”

Seeing the ingenuous expression on his face, Artemis felt suddenly guilty.

“I should have just trusted you. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. There’s nothing to be sorry about,” Charlie said, seriously, before smirking a little. “Didn’t appreciate the smack on the head, though.”

“I told you, track record for violence towards gingers. Ed Sheeran is next on the list.”

“Very funny, you should consider a career in stand up. Or table dancing, one of the two.”

“Is this instead of pyrotechnics, or am I just moonlighting as a comedian and table dancer?”

“I’d say part-time, but after the amount you drank last night you might not be safe near anything flammable ever again,” Charlie said, completely straight-faced. “Looks like you’re going to have to work on your Coyote Ugly routine.”

“Coyote Ugly?”

“Yeah. It’s a film, the main character dances on a bar a lot.”

“I know, I’ve seen Coyote Ugly. I’m just surprised that you’ve seen Coyote Ugly,” Charlie made a vague noise, and Artemis raised her eyebrows at him. “Let me guess, Ava was watching it?”

“That definitely sounds manlier than the alternative explanation, yeah.”

Artemis shook her head and laughed. Charlie grinned and checked his watch.

“Shit,” he said, his smile slipping. “I need to go and sort some things out before we do the set up today. Are you going to be alright starting without me?”

“Of course, I’ll be fine,” Artemis tilted her head to one side. “What are you sorting out?”

“Just stuff,” replied Charlie. Artemis frowned, and he added, “I can’t tell you now, it’s kind of secret. It’s nothing bad, though. Don’t look so worried.”

“I’m not worried, I’m curious.”

“Well, you’ll find out all about it soon. Trust me.”

Artemis hesitated for a second before nodding her head.

“Yeah. Okay.”