#so that equates to finally posting the first chapters (so far i have three parts) next Saturday

[lordsardine]

.

[vanillacaramelhoney]

Different (10)

Pairing(s): Five Hargreeves x Reader

Summary: Klaus chuckled. “Our little psycho.”

Warnings: None

A/N: I have this problem where I lose motivation to write, but the moment I get it back, all I can do is write and I end up mass-posting chapters

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"Three days?"

Luther took the cup of coffee that Allison offered him. "Well, that's what they said," he told her. "Or, Five, I guess."

"The old bastard did mention the apocalypse, come to think of it," Klaus said. "He just left out the part about how soon."

"But can we trust him?" Allison asked. "I don't know if you've noticed, but Five's a little-" she stopped to whistle, pointing to her head.

Klaus chuckled. "Our little psycho."

"And what about his friend?" Allison asked. "Did she say anything about it?"

"She was kind of busy chasing after Diego," Luther told her, glancing at his brother. "But, he was pretty convincing. If they weren't trying to stop an apocalypse, those two lunatics wouldn't be chasing after them."

"That's why they were after them?" Diego asked.

"Yeah." Diego sat back in his seat, jaw clenched at the idea that they were after YN, who probably only had Five to defend her.

"What did they even see?" Allison asked.

Luther looked at her, mouth open, and uncertain of what to say.

"Uh, apparently, we all fought together against whoever was responsible," Luther explained.

It was silent as they looked to him for further explanation.

He clicked his tongue and stood. "OK, so, here's the plan," he started.

Before he could say more, the three were objecting. He looked back at them.

"What actually happened the first time around?"

"Yeah," Diego agreed. "What are you not telling us? Come on, big boy, spit it out."

No one spoke as Luther nervously looked to all of them, then down at his cup. He hesitated, bringing the cup up.

"We died." It was impossible for the siblings to hear.

"What was that?" Allison asked, leaning forward.

Luther coughed. "I said, uh," he stuttered, "we died."

YN climbed through the rubble and snow, trying to get back to the grocery store as soon as possible.

Her body was much more used to the cold than the average person, her powers helping considerably.

The woman was more worried about Five, however, who didn't have the same resistance to the cold.

She had left him alone for the majority of the day in hopes of finding more food before the weather got even worse.

But while she was out, the snow kicked up. She was stuck navigating her way back through a snowstorm, worrying about how Five was doing at the same time.

YN's vision was limited through the falling snow, but she could faintly see the familiar sight of the store.

The building was just a temporary settling place until the weather evened out. It was also more intact than its surrounding buildings, making it the best choice.

YN pushed on, determined to make it back, and confirm that the idiot hadn't managed to freeze himself to death.

She pushed through the door, immediately dumping her bag and heaving a breath.

The room was much warmer than outside, the only reminder of the cold being the shrill shriek of wind heard through the walls.

"Jesus, I didn't think you were going to make it back alive." YN looked over at Five, who looked relieved yet worried.

He was by her in an instant as she wiped off as much snow from her clothes as she could.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she assured him. "I was more worried about you."

"What? Why? I'm not the one who was out in the storm."

"You're also not the one that can stand the cold," YN countered. "I had half a mind to think that I would find you freezing to death."

Five tugged her over to a fire that burned and sat her close to it.

"I'm not completely defenseless against the elements," he muttered.

"Your dad teach you guys how to make fires in apocalyptic scenarios?" she teased.

Five rolled his eyes and sat next to her.

"I'm just kidding," she laughed, pressing a kiss to his cheek before leaning her head on his shoulder.

"Have I ever told you how hilarious you are?" His words were drowned in sarcasm.

"Oh, thank you very much, sir."

"I must admit, in all the time I've been here, I've never met anyone quite like the pair of you," the Handler spoke as she led Five and YN down a stone path to a roundabout.

People greeted the woman as they passed.

"Hazel and Cha Cha, for example, are talented, certainly," she said, "but they can't see the big picture."

YN zoned out as she droned out, taking in the familiar scenery with dread in her gut.

This was the last place she wanted to be, especially with all that had been going on.

They followed her into the busy building, a man taking the Handler's coat.

"I'd like to discuss the logistics of my family's safety at your earliest convenience," Five told her. "As well as this body replacement."

The three of them climbed the stairs as they spoke.

"Such chutzpah," the Handler laughed. YN gave her an odd look at the word. "It's refreshing, I'll admit. Slow down, Five, all in good time. In fact, now that you've finally agreed to work with us, we've got all the time in the world."

YN leaned in close to Five. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"No, but we don't have a choice, really."

They followed after the Handler as she rambled, leading them up to a specific floor.

"All the people on this floor are case managers, each one responsible for one major event at a time," she explained, leading them down a hall and turning to the first room.

Inside was a long line of desks that seemed to stretch beyond natural possibility.

YN's eyes widened at the sight of it all. "Holy shit."

"So many of them."

"Impressive, isn't it?" the Handler asked. "Being a part of something...so grand."

The clicking from all of the typewriters made YN nauseous.

"Come along." The Handler continued a step ahead of them.

"Whenever someone chooses the wrong path, and the timeline is changed, the Commission gets a report from field agents on the ground," she explained. "These field reports are sorted and assigned to a case manager. They determine if anyone needs to be removed from the equation to assure that their event happens as it should."

She led them to another room, lined with pipes. A woman stood inside, doing her job.

"Based on that determination, the case manager sends instructions via pneumatic tube to temporal assassins like the two of you formally were. Any queries so far?"

She looked at the two.

"Yeah," Five said. "Who was the case manager handling us?"

"Ah, you mean the apocalypse!"

They were led back to the case managers and down the line to a woman.

"Five, YN, meet Dot." The woman looked at them with a bright smile, which YN couldn't help but return. "Dot is responsible for all apocalypse matters. In fact, it was Dot here who first flagged your appearance in 2019."

"No hard feelings," Dot said.

"Well, you pair certainly put us through the wringer," the Handler smiled. "Outsmarting two of our so-called best temporal assassins. If that doesn't spell leadership material-" the woman paused as her voice picked up, bringing everyone around to a stop, "-I just don't know."

Everyone resumed their work as the Handler showed them to their new desks that happened to be placed inconveniently far from each other.

The two settled in their respective seats, having no choice but to work.

----Taglist

@fancytravelerbird @megasimpleplan4ever @yikes-matey @we-all-are-strange @flowertoty @rasberrymay @lilacs-lavender​ @margotsfandoms @nibbles7192​ @colie-babi​ @thegirlwholikestomanythings​ @halparkebitch​ @faith-quake​ @aesthetically-hailey​

[bnhayyy]

The Call (6)

Chapter Title: Heartache

Wordcount: 2.8k

Fic Tag: Click

Ao3 Link: Click

Chapter Summary: Mikasa tells Annie about her past.

Notes: Alright! So this chapter is a little on the short side. The next two chapters will be as well, having originally been one super long chapter that I cut into three for the sake of themes and pacing. But on the bright side, yesterday I posted a Yumihisu one-shot that takes place between the second and third scene of chapter three, so be sure to check that out if you haven't seen it already. Once again, thank you to Celadon for betaing this chapter! And if you’re enjoying this fic, please consider joining my writing discord or buying me a ko-fi! You know, ko-fi. The thing that exists so monetized tumblr doesn't have to.

The week following the visit to the club passed by in a blur. Annie watched as Mikasa doubled down on trying to hunt Ymir, only for none of her efforts to bear fruit. For good reason. The whole time Mikasa hunted, Annie carefully walked the line of looking helpful while contributing nothing. 

Her faked efforts and need to preserve the scapegoat for as long as possible canceled out Mikasa's genuine zeal.

Or maybe Ymir was just better at this than they were. The results were the same either way. It looked like they weren't going to see Ymir again until she was ready to be seen.

Krista had proven herself to be both a help and a hindrance.

Annie hadn't seen the girl since that night at the club. Art was the only class she shared with her, but a little snooping had revealed that she hadn't been to any of her other classes either. Apparently, she had been calling in sick. Although they had been able to find the apartment building she lived in, they hadn't been able to get her exact address, and Mikasa wasn't quite ready to break into every single apartment in her quest to find Ymir.

Or confirm that Krista was still alive.

Annie noticed that Mikasa's anxiety had subtly grown with every day that they didn't see Krista… just not enough to make her break the law. For her part, Annie didn't press the matter. Seeming too willing to break into someone's apartment could set off all kinds of alarms. Besides, it was good that Krista was making herself scarce. If she had decided to stick around and give Mikasa ideas about Ymir's innocence, Annie really might have had to act.

That didn't mean that she was in the clear. Even if she was staying away for the time being, the fact remained that Krista Lenz was an unknown factor in a carefully calculated equation. Ymir too, for all that her little group had been using her presence to their favor so far. They had the potential to throw everything off balance if they decided to get involved. For that reason, they had decided to crack down on as much as they could.

Getting phone taps set up was a risky, tedious, and nerve-wracking process. However, by the end of the week, the phone in Smith's office, Smith's landline, Smith's cellphone, Mikasa's phone, and even Jean, Connie, Sasha, and Armin's phones were all bugged. Annie still had to find an opportunity to get Smith's friend's phones, but she planned on taking care of it soon.

Annie didn't know what to make of those two. An overly energetic watcher and a grouchy little demon hunter, the meeting Smith called to introduce them to everyone had been dominated by the former rambling while the latter glared at anyone who dared to look at him for more than three seconds. She didn't understand how Smith would mesh with personalities like theirs. Yet watching them for a little while had made it clear that the three of them were close. Genuinely close, not like the act that she, Reiner, and Bertolt put on.

Or the lie that she was building with Mikasa.

***

Annie: Patrolling tonight?

Mikasa: Of course

Mikasa: I'll be at your place at 7

***

It was 7:15 when Mikasa arrived. Annie may not claim to know her well, but she had gotten to know the last slayer well enough over the past few weeks to know that being late was unusual for her. She raised an eyebrow when she opened the door for her, allowing it to ask her unspoken question.

"Armin was over," Mikasa said as she stepped inside.

"I see," Annie said, closing the door. "You seem... close."

No. That wasn't right. One of the first things she had learned about Mikasa was that she wasn't truly close to anyone, Armin included. Annie leaned against the door as she reconsidered her phrasing. "You seem like you could be close," she settled on.

Mikasa stiffened. She turned to face Annie, but instead of making eye contact with her, she looked down at the bag that held her slaying supplies. "Yeah," she said, voice soft, but too vague to make out any specific emotion. She clutched her bag to her chest, probably unthinkingly. If she knew that she was holding onto it like a comfort and a shield, god knew that she probably wouldn't let herself. "If things were different, we probably could be."

Annie frowned. So that was the problem, the mindset that she and Reiner had been working so hard to cure her of. (Just in time to snatch her life away from her.) "You keep him at a distance because you're the slayer," she surmised.

"No," Mikasa said, causing Annie to blink in surprise. "It's because of..."

Mikasa hesitated. At least, that was what Annie thought was happening at first. As the seconds dragged on, she saw that whatever she was thinking about seemed to be actively causing her pain.

Annie frowned and stepped away from the door. She wanted to know about Mikasa, but not if it forced the other girl to dredge up painful thoughts. Annie was already going to be enough of a shadow on her existence. If it eased her suffering a little, she was okay with the other slayer dying a mystery. "Hey," she said, "you don't have to-"

"No," Mikasa cut her off. "You deserve to know this." A shadow of resolve fell over her expression as she spoke. She clearly wasn't happy about whatever she was going to say, but that wasn't going to stop her from saying it.

Annie felt something warm flicker in her chest. Maybe it was respect. Maybe it was admiration. Whatever it was, it was helpless to change the course of events. She still acknowledged it, because there was something to be said for someone who was willing to face things that they knew would hurt them. 

This feeling was probably the closest that Annie would ever come to self-sacrifice, the selfish, cowardly person that she was. But she could still allow herself to look at that light.

For as long as it was allowed to burn.

"Do you want to talk in my room?" Annie asked. If Mikasa really was about to spill her guts, then a degree of privacy was the least she could offer her. It was the only thing she could offer her.

Mikasa swallowed heavily and nodded. "Yes please."

Annie nodded and turned to lead her down the hall. The room at the very end was hers. It was small - all of their rooms were. Their organization had paid for them to rent a small house so that they didn't have to take the additional risk that would have been killing someone and occupying theirs, but they hadn't been willing to spring for anything extravagant. At least it wasn't hard to make people believe that a trio of college students could afford to rent it.

If Mikasa had any thoughts on how sparsely decorated the room was, she didn't voice them. Annie lead her over to the bed, where she sat down on one end while Annie took the other. There they sat, Annie trying not to stare too intensely at the other slayer as she waited for her to start. For her part, Mikasa was clearly trying to gather herself. She stared distantly up at the ceiling as she ran through whatever thoughts might be racing through her mind.

Finally, Mikasa shifted her gaze to Annie. "I met Armin through his best friend," she said. "A boy named Eren Yaeger."

Annie frowned. Barely anything had been said, yet she already got the sense that it was more complicated than that. The look on Mikasa's face made it impossible for her not to. 

"There was a home invasion when I was fourteen," Mikasa continued. Her voice was gaining a distant quality, like she was trying not to get caught up in the memory. Based on what she was saying, Annie was all but certain that really was the case. "My parents were killed and I was abducted. Eren ran into us when they were forcing me into the car."

Mikasa paused. Her attempt to distance herself from her emotions must not have been working, because something in her gaze fractured.

Suddenly, Annie had a horrible feeling about how this story ended for Eren. 

"Eren saved me," Mikasa managed. "He killed two of my abductors, and when the third arrived, he gave me the strength to kill him myself."

Mikasa had killed someone? A human being? Annie tried to keep her surprise from showing too readily. She must have failed, because Mikasa paused, fresh hesitation written across her features. 

Annie gave a tiny nod. "It was understandable, given the circumstances."

"That's…" Mikasa faltered. "Eren said that they didn't count as human beings."

"I suppose he might be right." Of course, by that logic, she probably didn't either. 

Mikasa nodded. Whether she was agreeing with Annie or simply recalibrating herself, she did not know. The slayer pulled herself together and continued before she had a chance to make a definitive guess either way.

"After that, it looked like things might be... Eren wrapped his scarf around me and said I could come home with him." Mikasa's expression was blank in a way that could only be forced. However, something in her eyes said that she was struggling to breathe. "That was when the vampire showed up. I didn't know that I was the slayer yet or understand what that meant. But I think he knew, somehow, and wanted to kill me before I could become a problem. It was me he was after. But he was harder to fight than a human, and I was scared, and Eren... he wouldn't let him take me without a fight."

For half a second, Mikasa zoned off, her gaze focusing on some point over Annie's shoulder. She snapped back to herself before Annie could figure out if she should say something. It made her wonder if she didn't want any interruptions.

No. It was more likely that she just wanted to be done with this story as soon as possible.

Annie understood the feeling.

"The vampire knocked both of us unconscious," Mikasa continued. "He must have taken the car keys off one of the dead men's corpses, because when we woke up, we were in the trunk. We tried to get out, but it was no use.

"He took us out by a cliff looking over the sea. He went for me first. Eren didn't like that. I tried to fight the vampire off and told Eren to run, but I couldn't... It wasn't..."

Mikasa started blinking as she fell silent. Annie would have been horrified to see the normally stoic slayer struggling to hold back tears if she weren't surprised that she hadn't started crying sooner.

"You were fourteen," Annie whispered. "You didn't have any training or know what you were dealing with."

Even fourteen-year-olds with years of training and who knew what they were dealing with would have a hard time against a vampire. How much had she struggled against Bertolt and Reiner when she was that age? She had been one of the best human cadets in the organization and Bertolt was far too prone to trying to go easy on her, but it was still hard. It might have been easier if she had already been called back then, but even that wouldn't have been enough to make up for the fear and ignorance if she hadn't been aware of the supernatural.

It seemed that Mikasa didn't see it that way. She shook her head and murmured, "I still had the strength of the slayer."

"Raw strength isn't everything," Annie insisted.

"Maybe not," Mikasa said. "But it should have been enough.

Her gaze drifted back to that spot over Annie's shoulder for a moment. Annie couldn't begin to try to gauge the look in her eyes, especially since it was only visible for a short moment. Her eyes switched to something far more shuttered and closed off in an instant.

"I was thrown over the cliff and into the ocean," Mikasa continued. "I thought I was going to die. And for a moment, I did."

The slayer's eyes closed as she remembered the moment, and Annie was foolishly tempted to do the same, just to acknowledge the event that allowed her to come into being.

Even if Annie herself had only become a slayer two years after Mikasa's death. She wondered, did Mikasa realize that some poor, unknown, short-lived slayer had come between them? She must have. Annie had already said that she was called in 2016 back at the meeting. The lost slayer was probably going to be one of those things that no one talked about, for those who realized that she'd even existed.

Just like Eren Yaeger.

Mikasa opened her eyes. "The cliff was by a park," she said. "Someone must have heard the commotion, because emergency services arrived and resuscitated me. But it was too late for Eren.

"Armin and I met at his funeral."

Annie felt her mouth go dry. What could she possibly say to that?

Perhaps it was a good thing that Mikasa wasn't done talking yet.

"There were holes in my story. Most of the adults brushed it off as trauma, but not him. He asked what really happened, and I was still weak and scared. I told him everything, and he... he offered to help me. I said no, but I did reach out to tell him when I killed my first vampire, because it was... it was the one that killed Eren.

"I thought that would be it for us, but he kept reaching out. Kept trying... to be my friend." Mikasa paused, the fragile expression of someone caught between hope and longing fluttering across her face before she remembered to shut it down. "And I want to. He's... Armin is good. But that's exactly why I can't let him get close. Erwin may have had a point about him knowing how to defend himself from the Supernatural, but I want him to stay as far away from this as possible. And..."

You can't see him without thinking about Eren, Annie thought.

She understood. That was exactly how she had felt about Porco in the months after Marcel died. That was how she felt when she looked at the vampires she'd been abandoned with for a while after Porco and Pieck disappeared. Armin may have been a good person, but he had also been Eren's best friend, whereas it sounded like Mikasa hadn't even known him for a day. If being around Armin was painful for Mikasa, then she could only imagine how it felt for him.

How difficult must it be to build a genuine friendship around a barrier like that?

Impossible, if you weren't even willing to try.

"...It's complicated," Mikasa finished.

"Sounds like it," Annie murmured. "But... it also sounds lonely."

This, she also understood. That understanding did not make her any less of a vile thing. It did not stop her from taking advantage of a moment of vulnerability and loneliness to draw the other slayer closer to her. Closer to her eventual doom.

"It is," Mikasa admitted. Her words were slow and measured, holding all the weight of an unbelievable, life-changing confession. "But it's... less with you around, I think."

Annie's heart did a funny thing as it tried to stop and speed up at the same time. "Is it?" she asked. The dryness in her mouth was back. She wanted to move closer to Mikasa, even though there were a million reasons why she shouldn't.

"Yeah," Mikasa said. "It's... it's nice having someone around who understands what it's like to be the slayer." Her lips twitched into a small, bittersweet, but genuine smile. Annie's eyes lingered on them. "I'm glad that I met you, Annie."

Annie swallowed heavily. "Me too," she lied. In that moment, she wished that she had never met Mikasa Ackerman. She wished that she'd never even heard of her, that she and her companions had continued with their lives utterly unaware of her existence.

She wished that she didn't have to kill her.

She wished that she didn't want to kiss her so much.

Annie shifted back, only then realizing just how close she had gotten to the other slayer, and stood up. "It's getting late," she said. "We should get patrolling, if you're still interested."

Mikasa nodded, snapping out of whatever trance had fallen between the two of them. "I am," she said.

And that was that.

Or so Annie told herself. Because although she wanted to believe that it was a fluke, that she had caught herself and would be able to continue walking her predetermined path, unwavering and unstoppable...

...In her heart of hearts, she could not deny the tension, that there was tension between them for the rest of the night.

She couldn't quite convince herself that it was gone come morning.

[thoughtsofanexcitedspacechild]

Kataang: An In Depth Analysis

Hello again! I apologise for the inactivity. It’s been a busy month as far as school goes for me, so let’s just say I’m a lot busier solving chem equations and working on stuff for AP art. Don’t get me wrong though! These analysis and essay format posts are my favorite and I wish I could do them more often! Seriously, it’s the only thing that keeps me wanting to write! I’ve also decided that I’m going to make these little intro paragraphs separate to the actual essay, because while I’m at this, why not kill two birds with one stone and practice writing essays for my actual AP Lang. class? I mean I’m obviously not gonna turn them in or show them to my teacher, (unless this gets 1000 notes or more, in which case  I’ll show this to her ;)) but this is a good way for me to work on formatting a thesis and developing arguments, all while doing and talking about something I love! Speaking of which, let’s dive right on into today’s topic; the much debated, and thoroughly analyzed ship: Kataang. (Buckle your seatbelts hotmen, because this is gonna be one hell of a sky bison ride) I got inspired by a creator on Tik Tok that I follow, Amanda Castrillo, to write this. Her username is @theamanda2d and I highly recommend you go check her out and give her a follow. A lot of the arguments in this are my own, but I also sourced a lot of information and arguments for Kataang from her series “a case for Kataang”, which I highly recommend you go watch. I’ll insert her quotes directly so you know exactly where her points are coming from as well as mention where I elaborated on a point she made but didn’t directly quote her. I’ll also be sourcing a lot of information from the show and including exact episodes and scenes that support my case. So without further ado, here is my *unofficial* case for Kataang.

     In our lives, there’s usually one point at which most of us make a choice. That choice is to love someone. Yes, you heard me right. You make the choice to love someone. Of course, the feeling that most people know as love, but is really just sexual or romantic desires, tends to be confused with real love. Authentic love that comes from the choice to love someone. This kind of love persists through even through the darkest times. This kind of love truly does burn brightest in the dark. 

 It stems from a strong base of mutual understanding and friendship first, and doesn’t rely on a spark of passion to keep burning although it can fuel the flame that already burns strongly. There are many great examples of this kind of love, both in our own world and daily lives, but also in literature. One of the greatest examples of this, is the relationship explored between the fictional characters Aang and Katara from Avatar: the Last Airbender. (Oh, what? You don’t think Avatar is a legitimate form of literature? Pity, you must not have read my previous posts or even watched the show at all, because it IS.)

     From the time I first watched the show, I was rooting for them to end up together. Right off the bat, Aang and Katara have this instant connection. Within the first episode, they already become friends, and not only that, they act as if they’ve been friends for years, almost like they were meant to meet each other. Aang finally getting together with Katara just feels right, but there’s more to their relationship than the feelings that Katara and Aang both experience and the feelings that we the audience feel seeing them together. Throughout the series we see them both make the choice to love each other, not only as lovers, but as friends too. Their relationship thrives, and we’re able to see them both grow as people and better themselves because of each other.

Firstly I want to address the counterargument that many people bring up and that is that Kataang, in and of itself, is one sided. Fans (often Zutara shippers. More in depth analysis on why this ship DOESN’T work out realistically to come) will argue that Kataang is forced and one sided, and that Katara doesn’t share Aang’s feelings. Although I can see where this is coming from from a first time viewer’s perspective, this argument can be extinguished by looking deeper at Katara’s actions and intentions towards Aang. We see them bond as friends very early on in the series, but the earliest hint at a romantic relationship actually shows up in season one episode four, when they go to Kiyoshi Island. Katara acts snarky and jealous when Aang gathers quite a fan club of little girls. 

Nevertheless, when this fan club fails to stick around for Aang’s encounter with the unagi, Katara’s the one that’s there making sure he’s okay. (S1, Episode 4, The Warriors of Kiyoshi) This is ultimately foreshadowing for their relationship as a whole. Although his role as Avatar lands him many friends, and in this case fans, the only person that truly stays with him the whole time is Katara. She’s the one who shows up and has his best interests at heart. Most of her intentions are in fact platonic in this episode, but the hint of romance comes out when we see that Katara doesn’t like the idea of Aang with another girl.

     After half way through season one, specifically the Fortune Teller episode, we do see that Katara does in fact have feelings for Aang, albeit complex ones. In this episode we see her pester Aunt Wu for information about her future husband and she’s informed that he’s a very powerful bender. She doesn’t consider Aang until Sokka mentions that it freaks him out how powerful of a bender Aang is while Aang protects and saves the village from it’s demise by an erupting volcano. Her hopes were set high on a muscley, extremely strong looking bender, and I’d like to imagine that before her realization, Katara was probably picturing someone more like Haru or even post redemption Zuko as her future husband. For the first time, that image is replaced by Aang, and she doesn’t mind it. (S1, Episode 14, The Fortune Teller) We see these new found feelings develop further in the Secret Tunnel episode, when Katara is finally forced to confront the romantic feelings that she’s pushed down while trying to sort them out. At this moment, Katara finally acknowledges her romantic feelings and attraction to Aang. (S2, Episode 2, The Cave of Two Lovers) The creators intentionally showed us the story of the two lovers for a reason. “Avatar is a very smart show,” says Amada Castrillo, Avatar fanatic and creator of the Tik Tok and youtube series “A Case for Kataang,” “and we’re never told or shown anything for no reason...A war was keeping them apart maybe not physically, but romantically.”

     Later in the series during the season finale of season two we see her absolutely distraught when Aang nearly dies and she does everything in her power to save him. We see her almost break. Only when he wakes up does she feel better, and start to be happier again. She doesn’t care about anything else but making him feel better, and even when he does wake up, she still focuses mainly on healing him. Here we see Katara make the choice to love Aang both in sickness and in health. (S2, Episode 18, The Guru/The Crossroads of Destiny and S3, Episode 1, The Awakening) She of course would have done this for any member of team avatar, but the way in which she treats Aang when he’s nearly taken away from her points to the extreme love and affection that she carries for him every day. This happens multiple other times throughout the series, with many of the occurrences being in book three. When Zuko joins the Gaang, she flat out tells Zuko that if he were to hurt Aang, (not Sokka, not her, not Toph, but Aang specifically) she would personally see to his demise. (S3, Episode 11, The Western Air Temple, 23:30) (Some Points taken from, but not directly quoted from Amanda Castrillo’s “A case For Kataang Part Nine: Text and Subtext”) This is why the assumption that Kataang is one sided can be proven wrong.

     Two other arguments stem from the previous argument, one being that Aang is a simp, and/or that Katara is a trophy. First of all, the later argument is easily disproved by the fact that Katara is not a prize to be won. “Katara is, and was never a prize for Aang,” says Castrillo, “And to say that she was, grossly mischaracterizes and undermines her as a character.” (Amanda Castrillo, (@theamanda2d) “A Case for Kataang: Chapter 2, Katara the trophy) Katara is shown multiple times throughout the series being able to speak up and defend herself without Aang’s, or anyone else’s help. 

Aang, although viewed as a simp, is not. Yes he respects Katara, and all other women for that matter, but he doesn’t fawn over her. He allows her to defend and take care of herself. The definition of the word “simp” is the abbreviated term “simpleton”, meaning “a silly or foolish person.” Although Aang is silly at some points, he’s also not foolish. He’s a smart and capable individual that many fans fail to recognise as legitimate because of his innocence and softness. So no. Aang isn’t a simp that bases his entire self worth on his status with Katara.

     Another point that must be acknowledged is the fact that Aang and Katara are actually complementary characters. Although many people would bring up the argument that Air and Water aren’t opposite elements, the type of bender they are doesn’t necessarily tend to point to the exact type of person they are. The creators aren’t dumb, and the characters in this franchise are so well developed, that there are many sub personalities in each type of bending, and all of them can be analyzed further than the type of element they bend. Judging a character solely by the element they can bend is like judging a person on the color of their skin or a book by it’s cover, and when diving deep into each of their personalities, we can see that their personalities are actually complementary. Katara is high strung and anxious while Aang is usually calm and collected. Aang is very good at regulating his emotions while Katara is not. This aspect extends further than their personalities as well. Katara grew up in a very family oriented and close family while Aang only had one parental figure in the form of Gyatzo and occasionally a few friends. Katara is also more grounded and a home body while if he could, Aang would probably continue to explore whatever corner of the earth that he could. (Some points taken, but not directly quoted from Amanda Castrillo (@theamanda2d), “A Case for Kataang: Chapter 10, Balance”)

     Another thing that I found is that when looking at color theory, Aang’s signature orange toward the end of the series and Katara’s signature blue are actually complementary colors. I’d like to think that as Katara develops and explores her feelings for Aang, Aang’s color palette changes slightly. It goes from being red and yellow in the beginning when Katara didn’t know she had feelings quite yet, to eventually shifting to orange when we see her feelings start to fully become clear. I thought this was a super interesting detail and despite it being a bit far of a stretch, I think it must have been planned. If you consider the time when we see Katara start to develop feelings, it’s about the same time that Aang’s outfit choice shifts to orange. Of course, this piece of evidence is mostly based on my personal observation and knowledge of color theory, but it’s a detail that I personally found super compelling.

     Kataang also works because of the extremely well executed communication and dialogue that happens between them. There are multiple different examples throughout the series and as their character’s develop, we’re able to see a beautifully efficient and respectful form of communication between them. We see Aang clearly express his feelings of anxiety to Katara, and in return, Katara is able to help him and offer advice on what he’s feeling. Katara also is able to confide in Aang in return and oftentimes he’s the one that she’s most comfortable being vulnerable in front of. We see her almost mother Aang alongside Sokka in the first season, but her relationship with him changes and shifts to one where both her and Aang feel comfortable and contribute and receive equal care from each other.

     One issue in particular also comes to mind when talking about this ship, and that is the issue of boundaries. Counter arguments against Kataang often bring up one scene in particular, specifically in the Ember island players episode about halfway through when Katara confronts Aang on the balcony. (S3, episode 15, the Ember Island Players) Episode Aang is understandably upset with the way that he and specifically he and Katara’s relationship is portrayed in the play. He obviously has feelings for her and at that point we know that Katara also has feelings from a few episodes prior when they kiss before the invasion. That kiss was mutual, and she kissed him back, meaning that from that point on, both of their feelings towards each other are very clear. The night of the play on the balcony, Aang does cross a boundary that had been established. The kiss before the invasion made sense, and Katara didn’t do anything to stop him from doing it, and Aang had her consent in this case. Aang’s kiss on the balcony was a mistake, and in this case it was uncalled for, but many people misread Katara’s feelings of confusion. When Katara mentions being confused, she’s not saying she’s confused about her feelings for Aang. Since season one, we’ve seen her show multiple forms of affection towards Aang, and not only that, she was usually the one initiating the many hugs, cheek kisses, etc. 

She’s not confused about how she feels about Aang. She’s confused about the timing and if it’s a good idea or not. (Some points taken from, but not directly quoted from, Amanda Castrillo (@theamanda2d) “A Case for Kataang Part 7: The Camelephant in the room)

     Regarding the consent for the kiss, yes. That was Aang’s mistake. He’s human, and he did mess up there. But his intentions weren’t meant to harm anyone. He, like so many of us watching at home, read Katara’s confusion to be about him, and wanted to see what she really felt. Afterwards, he knows he messed up, and feels bad about it. “...[Aang’s] very self aware. He knows how he feels about Katara, and he’s said it multiple times...Aang is human. He f***s up. He says the wrong thing. He makes mistakes. And he was just as confused as Katara at this moment.” (Amanda Castrillo, (@theamanda2d) “A Case for Kataang Part Seven: The Camelephant in the room)

     Lasty, I want to acknowledge the visual and audio parallels portrayed in the show and how they can effectively work towards supporting Kataang. If you observe the angles at which characters are shown as well as the framing, it visually sets up and can represent how two characters feel about one another. First let’s consider the framing of a scene from the very first episode after Katara breaks Aang out from the ice. Aang is lying down and katara is directly positioned above him. When he wakes up from being trapped in an iceberg for 100 years, her face is the first that he sees. 

This positioning and framing is shown multiple more times throughout the series, establishing their strong connection. So is this one:

(For a better visual reference please see Amanda Castrillo’s video “A Case for Kataang Part Four: Parallels) “Its built up and set up for us time and time again. Their interactions aren’t framed like that for no reason. Scene framing matters.” (Amanda Castrillo, “A case for Kataang Part Four: Parallels.”

There’s also the fact of the score and what specific music points to what character or what mood the creators were trying to enforce with the music. Avatar’s score is genius and every song and note was hand crafted to set the tone for each scene and help explain what’s happening. (This is one of the many reasons Avatar would translate well to be a musical or even a ballet. Post/informal rant on this later to come.) There are many great examples, like how Azula is represented by a clash of chords, (To quote my previous post: “I love how Azula is just represented by a pair of clashing chords and when you hear it you know that she’s about to f*** s*** up.”) or that Aang has a lively flute melody that plays when he gets really happy/excited, but perhaps the best example of the use of music in the franchise is the use of the “Avatar’s Love Theme.” It’s my personal favorite song from the show, and it’s used extremely effectively and efficiently throughout the show to provide a very specific and recognisable feeling: romantic love. When you hear it play, Aang is ALWAYS with Katara. Go back and listen to the times where it plays, and it’s always when he and Katara share a special moment together. We only hear part of the melody for the majority of the series, but in the final episode, right towards the end when Aang and Katara are left alone on the balcony looking above the city by themselves, we hear it play again, and this time, we hear all of it. The kiss between them also happens right at the crescendo and peak of the music, emphasizing and establishing that Aang and Katara are officially canon. The music plays a huge part in this story, and all musical elements as well as visual point to Aang and Katara being a team, and not just that, but a romantic couple.

In conclusion, Aang and Katara are a couple that was meant to happen. Throughout the series, their love is shown through their undeniable chemistry, complementary characters and personality, and the visual and musical elements set up for us within the show. Aang and Katara love eachother very much, and although their feelings were often being confused by looming threats to their lives or tainted by the war they were both fighting, in the end they’re able to fully and completely allow themselves to love each other. Despite their romantic love, they are ultimately friends before they are lovers, and don’t rely on a spark of passion to be able to keep their love for one another burning. They love each other wholly and in so many different ways, and that my friends, is why Kataang works and will always work.

[nekojitachan]

Hmm, slowly working on Casts a Shadow ch8 while trying not to be distracted by the MDZS fic (so many ideas!). Trying to decide to post the next CAS chapter or upload the Raven!Andrew soulmate fic this weekend.

Either way, here’s a sneak peek at ch2 of CAS. Warning for the Nest, and dealing with sexual harassment in a... removing parts way.

*******

“You are such a speedy little demon; we should put a bell on you so we can at least keep track of you on the court,” Kari complained while she tousled Nathaniel’s hair. He grimaced at the affectionate gesture but allowed it since the offensive dealer was one of Natalie’s friends.

“You’re gonna give your mark fits once you’re an official Raven.” Octavia frowned as she handed over her apple. “We need to bulk you up some more by then.”

“He just burns it off,” Natalie said as she gave Nathaniel a slight nudge in the side. “This one seems built for running. Maybe he should be a striker or a dealer.”

“I like running,” Nathaniel mumbled after he swallowed a bite of apple; it was crisp and tart, just how he liked them. “And I do fine as a backliner.” He certainly had no problem blocking Riko and Kevin.

The three young women agreed and commented that lack of size didn’t equate to lack of toughness; Octavia and Kari were two of the newer Ravens, both sophomores, and among the few women on the team.

The Ravens – or at least some of them – had stopped being so standoffish with Nathaniel and Natalie in the last few weeks. Part of it had been them noticing the split (such as it was) between the two of them and Riko and Kevin (the ‘heirs’ of Exy), and part of it had been when John, an asshole freshman striker, had heard about Natalie’s sixteenth birthday and thought it a great idea to ask her if she was now ‘ready for some fun’.

Natalie had immediately pulled a knife on him and asked if he was ‘ready to live life as a eunuch’, while Nathaniel told her to leave him his balls and go for his dick instead.

For some reason, that had endeared the handful of women Ravens to them, and earned them the respect of some of the men. It also meant that Nathaniel had to put up with people messing with his hair and teasing him about his height (more the lack of it), about them being ‘asked’ to fetch drinks, snacks or other items during their downtime… but no one tried to hurt them.

(Other than Tetsuji when they messed up drills or practice, or Riko with his tricks out on court, but that didn’t count.)

Nathaniel supposed he could put up with becoming the Ravens’ ‘unofficial’ mascot when it made Natalie smile and got him extra fruit.

After lunch, everyone returned to their rooms or one of the common areas to study during the short time before the final practice of the day; Nathaniel and Natalie usually went to her room to do their homework together. They passed Riko and Kevin in the hallway since their rooms were nearby, and of course Riko couldn’t resist getting a taunt in while passing.

“Ooh, what class is it today? Reading for dummies?” He laughed at the pathetic joke while Kevin gave them an apologetic look; long used to the asshole’s antagonistic behavior, Nathaniel and his sister simply ignored him (which they knew would affect him the most).

For once, Riko left the insults at that, which was a surprise; he enjoyed taunting Natalie over the fact that, despite her being sixteen, she wasn’t that far past Riko and Kevin in academics since she’d dropped out of school after joining the Bloodhounds. She’d done an incredible job catching up while living in Baltimore, but Tetsuji’s intense training regime didn’t leave her much opportunity to study ahead so there was talk of holding her back at least a year, probably two, which would grant her more time to work on her Exy skills.

(Perhaps it was selfish of him, but Nathaniel wouldn’t complain about having Natalie around the Nest longer.)

They didn’t say anything until they were in Natalie’s room. “He’s been a bit odd lately,” she said as she fetched her laptop.

(There was no question about who ‘he’ was.)

“He’s an asshole,” Nathaniel muttered as he dug through his bag for his own laptop. “What’s odd about that?”

“It’s just….” Her brows drew together as she stared at the device’s blank screen then shook her head as she powered it on. “He was so angry when he found out about us swearing to Ichirou, but the last few days he’s been less antagonistic.” At Nathaniel’s dubious look, she rolled her eyes. “For an asshole.”

“Maybe he’s plotting something,” Nathaniel suggested as he logged on to his online classes. “Maybe he thinks he’s figured out something so much better than messing with our beds in that little asshole snake brain of his.”

Natalie smiled as she bumped into his left shoulder. “Tell me how you really feel about him.”

Like he needed an excuse. “He’s an asshole snake of a bastard who-“

His sister cut him off by smacking him lightly over the head with a pillow. “I think I get it!” When he batted the pillow aside and glared, Natalie grinned and pointed at his laptop. “Show some of that creativity for the essay you have to write for English.”

“School sucks almost as much as Riko,” he grumbled as he clicked on the mentioned assignment. “Hey, I’ll do your math if you-“

“No,” Natalie said, smile gone as she focused on her own lesson plan. “You need to learn more than math, Ram.”

“Why, when we’ll be playing Exy and doing stuff for Ichirou.” He narrowed his eyes when he spotted his latest reading assignment. “We gonna debate Pride and Prejudice while slitting some guy’s throat?”

“Perhaps,” she mused while she typed something. “You never know what triggers some people. Might be the thought of figuring out a calculus problem or they’ll lose a finger, or hearing the breakdown of War and Peace’s plot.”

Nathaniel gave his sister an intent look for several seconds. “You’re terrifying, you know.”

Natalie’s special smile returned, the one which she mostly reserved for him, the one that brought out the dimple in her right cheek. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He resumed lying down next to her and forced himself to start on the detested essay. “Hey, why do people hate math so much?” he asked after a few minutes.

“Hmm, not sure, maybe because it doesn’t come to them as easily as it does you. Just like how you pick up languages.” She flashed the special smile again. “But not essay writing.”

“That’s for you to do.”

She hummed in pleasure and stroked a hand over his hair in agreement.

They studied for the rest of the hour (Natalie corrected his essay once he had it written, and he checked her math – they still covered each other like that), then they got ready for the last practice of the day.

There had been some uncomfortable stares from the Ravens when Nathaniel had first changed with them, as they took in the knife and burn scars on his chest and back, but now they no longer paid attention to them. Instead, they teased each other about who would score the most points or rack up the most blocks, then took turns rubbing Nathaniel’s head on the way out to court.

“Why?” he demanded to know as he fended off Gerry’s hand.

“For good luck of course!” the older backliner declared with a laugh, while his partner, Liam, nodded in agreement.

“Your fault for being a redhead, Nat,” Omar called out while he tugged on his gloves. “And so adorable. You should-oof.” He stumbled as Riko ‘accidentally’ swung his helmet at the junior striker while he stormed out of the locker room, a quiet Kevin ever his shadow.

“Spoiled little brat,” Omar muttered as he rubbed his ribs, a sentiment that was echoed by a few other Ravens; Nathaniel wisely kept his opinion to himself (even if it was much the same). He might badmouth Riko to his sister all the time, but they were still Moriyama property even if they now answered to Ichirou and not Tetsuji.

Tetsuji had Nathaniel, Natalie, Kevin and Riko work on drills while the official Ravens warmed up, then scrimmage together for a while. Nathaniel enjoyed the matches because even if Riko was an asshole who always used excessive force against him (which Tetsuji ignored), he was a talented asshole, along with Kevin (who wasn’t as much an asshole as Riko’s toady).

When it was time for them to stop and join in with the Ravens, Tetsuji ordered Nathaniel and Natalie to go back to working on drills; Riko smirked at them as he and Kevin left to join the older players. Nathaniel opened his mouth to complain about being deprived of scrimmage time, except Matsumoto offered to call out drills for them.

Tetsuji nodded in approval while Nakamori and Akagi fell in step behind the ‘Master’; normally, Nathaniel was uneasy around older men (especially ones his father’s age), but Matsumoto was in his early sixties, possessed a quiet voice and kept his hands to himself.

He was also very pragmatic and while he might be one of Tetsuji’s assistant coaches, he realized that ‘the Master’ and his grand Castle Evermore only existed with the main branch’s blessing. That meant he often passed along useful bits of information to Nathaniel and his sister.

They spent half an hour going through the eight Ravens drills (which they’d perfected) in the random order Matsumoto called out, knocking down cones again and again. It was while Nathaniel was setting up the cones yet again that he caught Matsumoto leaning toward Natalie and whispering something in her ear.

He had to wait until after dinner to find out what it was; Natalie joined him in his room. “It seems that someone owes a debt to Kengo, and the only way he can pay it back is to offer up his son, who plays Exy very well,” she explained in French.

For a moment, Nathaniel felt an intense wave of anger at the thought of another kid being sold to the Moriyamas, of having a father like his, before he shoved the thoughts aside. He jumped a little when Natalie gave a gentle touch to his left cheek (scrubbed clean for the night of the stupid ‘3’ which Riko insisted he bear). “I think it’s why Riko’s been acting up lately. Matsumoto said that he overheard Tetsuji telling Riko that you’re getting a partner, so he probably knows about the kid’s background.”

Nathaniel huffed as he rubbed his sore ribs, the ones which Riko had smacked with his racquet earlier in the day. “Knowing the asshole snake, he’s probably expecting a new ‘toy’ to play with.” One his big brother wouldn’t snatch away this time.

“Perhaps.” Natalie didn’t appear pleased with the thought, but there wasn’t much they could do about Riko’s personality worsening by the month. “Come, time to practice.”

“Slave driver,” Nathaniel groaned even as he climbed off his bed and slipped free the knife he kept sheathed on his left ankle at all times; he figured the sooner he suffered through their nightly fighting practice, the sooner he could sleep.

More like pass out on his bed, by the time they were done.

Jean Moreau arrived two days later, a young Frenchman around Kevin’s and Riko’s age, with black hair, grey eyes, and a massive attitude problem. He glared down his nose (of course he was taller than Nathaniel) at everyone but the adults while Tetsuji introduced him to the rest of the ‘Perfect Court’ (as Riko had dubbed the four of them). “Nathaniel, Jean will be your partner. He’s a backliner, too.”

“Understood, sir,” Nathaniel said with a slight bow.

“You’ll teach him everything he needs to know.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And you’ll be-“

“I don’t want to be here!” Jean complained in French as he tugged on the front of his new uniform, which bore the number ‘4’. “All of you can go to hell, I refuse to-ow!” His pale grey eyes grew wide as he stumbled forward beneath the force of the blow to his back from Tetsuji’s cane.

“You’ll speak English,” Tetsuji reprimanded while Riko smirked and Kevin stared off into the distance as if he wasn’t participating in the whole ‘here’s a new possession’ thing.

“I’ll speak whatever I wa-ow!” That time, Jean was knocked to his knees, where he was hit several times before Tetsuji relented; Nathaniel was disgusted to notice the gleam of pleasure in Riko’s dark eyes over the abuse.

[pythonees]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Three’s a Crowd - XI - Embry Call & Paul Lahote

POSTED: March 2nd, 2020

WORD COUNT: 1,368

REQUESTED: Anon

A/N: I have rewritten this part SO many times. It got to the point that I had to walk away because I was getting frustrated when it didn't turn out the way I wanted it to. I feel so bad for how long it takes for me to get chapters out now, but I want to put out my best, so, unfortunately, that means it'll take a lot of time.

 I hope you guys enjoy this part, it's longer than the last few that have come out. If you haven't picked up on this already, it's going to be a bit of a slow burn fic. Not too slow though! I don't think I can make myself suffer through that, let alone all of y’all.

PS, if anyone wants to be added to the tags list, or I have missed you, PLEASE send in that request as an ask, so I can have it kept as a record, and so it won't be lost in my activity feed.

By the time Y/N gets to school, the sun is shining brighter than ever, not a cloud in sight. Many students are lingering around outside when Y/N gets off the bus, the parking lot alive with conversation. She weaves around the many groups heading straight for the front door. As her hands wrap around the sun-warmed handle, a voice calls out to her. It's quiet, one she hasn't heard in a long while, but recognized instantly.

Y/N turned around to watch Bella Swan as she quickly walked after her. Her old group of friends watch her curiously as she too weaves in and out of students. Their surprise is justified since they haven't heard her speak much since the vanishing of the Cullens. She seems to be doing better, however, since Y/N remembers seeing her sitting with them at lunch the day before.

"Hey, Bella," Y/N said, not knowing what else to say to the girl. They've never spoken in the short time she had returned to Forks, besides in class, when they had to hand something to each other. Or, more commonly, when Bella would trip and knock something off her desk, since in most of her classes, Bella was seated next to or near Y/N.

"Can I talk to you? For a minute?" Bella replies, slightly out of breath. From this close-up, Y/N can see the ever-growing bags under Bella's eyes, making her look sickly when paired with her pale skin. Y/N agrees, following after Bella as she leads her towards the tree line, away from their gossip-hungry classmates.

"You're friends with Jake, right? He talks about you a lot," Bella starts, looking expectantly at Y/N for a response. The shade cast by the trees worsens the look of Bella's bags, making her eyes look almost sunken into her head.

"Yeah, we grew up together," Y/N replies, though she didn't have to. From the way Bella sounded when she asked, she already knew the answer, "why?"

Bella shifts slightly, her awkward nature winning over her determination slightly. She takes a breath before pushing forward, "Then you must know what's going on with him."

Y/N lets out a sigh, cursing Bella for her never-ending curiosity, "I don't know-"

"I know you do," Bella cuts in, far more assertive than Y/N thought she was capable, "before we went to the movies Jake was complaining about you hanging out with Embry after he abandoned you guys for the 'cult.'"

"Bella-"

"And then!" Bella rushes to continue, once again cutting Y/N off so she couldn't stop her, "he disappears. Just like Embry and the others did. And I know you know where he is. And why he's not picking up my calls, and claiming to have mono."

Bella stares Y/N down, fire burning behind her tired eyes. Y/N knows where this is coming from, having been so freshly abandoned by Edward and his family, Bella is trying to hold onto whatever she had left. With a sigh, Y/N tries to cover the packs' tracks.

"Jake hasn't been talking to me since Embry started talking to me again." Not completely a lie, which Y/N hopes is enough to convince Bella, who is starting her down, "I haven't seen him at all. I'm sorry, Bella, but I can't help you."

Knowing this wasn't the end, Y/N quickly makes her escape, walking as fast as she can to the school while trying to not look like she's running away. Bella doesn't follow after her, just watches as Y/N turns the corner towards the main building of the school.

Once she's out of view, she pulls out her phone to send a quick warning to Paul and Embry. She gets responses almost immediately but doesn't have time to respond as she pushes her way through the front doors of the school. Many students have moved inside and are standing around their lockers. The large groups leave barely enough room to get to the stairway at the end of the hall.

Right next to the stairwell is her first class of the day. A supply teacher is standing at the front of the class, looking disinterested by the students already in the room. In front of her is a large stack of papers. The teacher calls out to Y/N as she walks by, her hand held out expectantly."No phones allowed during the test," she adds on, and Y/N can barely contain her eye roll as she hands it over, the phone lighting up with another text as she does so. The class is nearly half full as she walks down the middle aisle to her desk towards the back. Some have their notes open and are cramming in a bit of last-minute studying, while the others are goofing off with their friends.

The substitute doesn't seem to care much about what the students are doing and is instead sorting through the notes that were left for her. The first bell rings, and slowly, students start to file into the classroom.

The substitute puts the notes left for her aside to hand out tests and take phones as the last of the class arrives. She exchanges with the last student just as the second bell rings, signalling the start of first period. Everyone quiets as the teacher explains what's needed on the test, writing down equations on the board for them to refer back to. With that, she tells them to begin, settling back in her chair.

Y/N stares down at the three-page test, cute little beakers and test tubes around the title. With a long-suffering sigh, Y/N grabs her pencil and starts on the first question.

Surprisingly, Y/N was able to avoid Bella for the rest of the day. The boys were messaging her between classes after she was stopped that morning by Bella. At first, it was about what Bella wanted, and then it was little things, like how Y/N's day was going and vice versa. Or random questions that Y/N and Paul would ask each other to get to know each other better.

Her phone has been going off for the last couple of minutes. She was finishing up the last of her work in her free time before school ends. The phone vibrates against her leg again, and with a sigh, Y/N puts aside her work to check her phone. From what she sees from the most recent message, she didn't have to scroll up to see what story Embry was telling.

[Embry]: and then she tried to tackle Jake off of Quil, knocking them both over and down the hill

[Embry]: Jake broke his arm. Y/N broke her ankle

[Y/N]: I don't know why you love that story so much, my mom kept me locked in the house for days after

She sends the message off quickly so that she can cram in as much work as possible before the final bell rings. Her phone goes off again, but she ignores it as she punches in her equation into her calculator. She jots down the answer with a relieved sigh, scanning the sheet to make sure she got every question before putting everything away. The library is relatively empty when Y/N takes a look around, spotting Angela sitting off int the corner with Jessica, huddled close and whispering to each other.

The final bell rings just as Bella wonders into the library, walking over to her friends. Thankfully, she doesn't notice Y/N sitting by her self, letting her slip away unnoticed. Y/N makes a pit stop to her locker, trading her math homework for her English assignment. Following the flow of students out the doors towards the busses, Y/N loads onto the bus to make her way home.

As the bus leaves the school parking lot, Y/N watches Bella come out of the front doors of the school alone. She's digging through her orange backpack but can't seem to find what she's looking for. As the bus turns onto the main road, Y/N turns her attention to the trees lining the side of the road. There, in trees, is a face covered in shadow, and all Y/N can make out are the deep, red eyes staring right back at her.

a strikethrough means it’s not working

Twilight Tag: @wh1sp3r1ng-impala – @rabeccablake

Three’s Tag: @00girly-tomboy00  – @werewitchling  – @falling-stars-never-cry​ – @basicallyacullen​ – @truthdaze​ -- @vxidnik

[mint-yooxgi]

{2} - Obsession

Yandere AU - Part of the EXO Obsession Series

Genre: Mature, Horror, Angst

Pairing: EXO OT9 X Reader (with a particular focus on X-EXO)

Words: 2,539

Warnings: This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: What’s this? An update? Wow! How long has it been? Too long, that’s it lol. Anyways, hey guys, it’s me again, back on my shit. This chapter may be a little confusing due to the use of the codenames for the clones, but I'm going to post a little character profile chart thing to make things a little easier for you guys. Anyways, I know this update isn’t too long, but I do hope you all enjoy it as I know you’ve all been patiently waiting for an update to this series! Enjoy, and as always, feedback is greatly appreciated!

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Another sigh escapes past your lips, eyes closed as you shake your head slightly, “so much for privacy.”

Even though you knew they were going to be here, it still didn’t stop you hoping that you’d be wrong. Looks like your shower will have to wait for the time being, and so much for a relaxing evening in.

“Glad you could finally join us,” Suho grins, causing your brow to quirk as you shift your gaze over to him.

They sit a little too comfortably for your liking in your living room, spread out on the couches and chairs looking smug as you stand in the main opening.

“I’m surprised none of you are at each other’s throats, considering I’m your endgame, and knowing you guys, when you all want something, chaos is bound to ensue,” you comment, shifting your gaze over each one of them slowly. They seem almost too relaxed, and it unnerves you.

“Well, we had a little chat once we left that building earlier,” Guan begins to say.

“We agreed that until we dispose of our weaker forms, we’ll be working together,” Chen finishes.

“And you’re telling me all this willingly…” your eyes narrow in suspicion, “why?”

“Two reasons,” Null continues.

“One,” Loey holds up a single finger in the air, “as a warning to our weaker selves.”

“We know you’ll tell them whatever happens tonight, so it’s just easier than hunting them down right off the bat,” Suho sighs. “Besides, we all know that they’ll shoot first and ask questions later, considering you’re involved.”

You cross your arms, brow quirking once more.

“Two,” Kai continues this time, leaning back further onto the couch as he rests his arm comfortably over the back, “we wanted to give you a choice.”

“A choice?” You question, shoulders tensing as you watch a few of them lean forwards slightly, curious to see how you’ll react.

“Come with us, or be taken forcefully as we kill your team members one by one,” Chen locks gazes with you as your breath hitches in your throat.

“Either way, we’ll have you in the end,” Guan adds, grin tugging at his lips.

“What makes you so sure you’ll win,” you ask, eyes narrowing once more as you look them over one by one.

“Simple,” Loey chuckles.

“Not only are we stronger than they are, but we’re quicker,” Null answers, a smirk pulling at his own features. “And smarter.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” you reply, smugly.

In the next moment, you’ve pulled your switchblade out from its hidden spot on your leg. Flipping it open, you press the blade firmly to your neck, watching as they tense before you. Suho, Kai, and Chen all stand quickly, preparing to leap at you if the need arises.

“One more move and I’ll end it all, don’t even think about it,” your eyes lock with theirs, particularly with Suho and Kai, knowing that they’ll be the first two to act since they have the quickest reflexes in terms of reaching you.

“(Y/n), put the knife down,” Guan’s voice is firm as he raises his hands in front of him, palms outstretched towards you as he stands from the couch, you watching his every move intently.

“Good to know you won’t let me die at least,” you smirk. “Guess I’m more valuable alive than dead.”

“That’s what we’ve been telling you!” Kai gets out, clearly frustrated at the turn of events.

“Even so, if you really are clones of my strike team, then you’ll know that any threat against them is a threat against me,” you spit, eyes hard as you stare them down, watching as they inhale sharply. “You six of all people should know the lengths I am willing to go for my team, and well, take me out of the equation, you lose your leverage.”

“We’re not going to let you die,” Loey gets out through gritted teeth. “That’s not the point.”

“Oh, I understand that perfectly,” you reply, letting out a dry chuckle. “However, you don’t get to make that decision.”

With those words, you press the blade harder into your skin, but before you can make any sort of cut, Suho suddenly has your wrists pinned behind your back, your blade falling to the floor at your feet.

“We’ve already told you, we’re not going to let you die,” he whispers into your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. He smirks, pulling you closer against his chest.

The whole time, you watch the reactions of the others closely, and you can tell that they don’t like the fact that Suho is so near to you at the moment, let alone touching you. Time to put your knowledge of what you know about them to the test so far then, and see what other information you can gather from them.

Struggling slightly in his grip, you grit your teeth, “let go.”

“No,” you can practically hear the grin in Suho's voice as he holds you to him, watching as Guan’s fists clench beside him in the next moment as he watches on.

“Are you disobeying my orders?” Your voice is firm as you watch them all straighten up momentarily before loosening up once more, all on high alert.

“That’s the thing, sweetheart,” his voice is right by your ear, “we’re not your actual strike team, so you can’t order us around like you can them.”

You can feel his grip tighten slightly on your wrist and you take this moment to use it to your advantage.

Flinching slightly, you allow your facial features to relax, falling into a mock hurt expression. You see both Guan and Chen’s eyes flare in anger.

“Junmyeon,” a sharp inhale is heard from behind you and you nearly smirk, though your voice is anything but smug, “you’re hurting me.”

Almost immediately, his grip loosens as you watch Chen lunge at the two of you. You see the sparks radiating off of Chen’s hands and you take the opportunity to shift to the side, pulling yourself out of Suho’s grasp as Chen makes contact with Suho. Rolling to the side, you grab your dropped switchblade and fling it just in time to offset the small throwing knife Guan had just launched at Chen. One blade now resides in the ceiling while the other sticks out of the coffee table.

Kai is the next to spring into action, teleporting himself beside you, but you’re too quick for him this time. Swiping his legs from beneath him, he lands on his stomach, but not before you have his one arm pinned in the air behind him, your foot pressing into the back of his neck. He clenches his jaw as you keep him pinned to the floor, unrelenting as he struggles to get free.

“That’s enough,” your voice is firm, catching all of their attention as the three by the couch now stand in a fighting stance, while Chen stands over Suho’s twitching body threateningly. Kai groans slightly from beneath you, head twisting in order to look up at your figure.

“I swear to everything that’s holy, the next person to touch her that isn’t me is loosing a fucking hand,” Guan growls out, eye shining in fury as his chest rises and falls in anger.

“I’d like to see you try,” Chen spits, finger tips sparking as he turns on Guan.

You notice Loey’s hands hold small flames in them currently, shoulders square as he’s ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice.

“Some alliance you’re all supposed to have,” you huff, amusement shining in your eyes. “Looks like you don’t even trust each other.”

“Would you?” Null turns to you, eyes slightly narrowed as he glances at the way you’re twisting Kai’s arm.

“I would and I do,” you reply without hesitation. “Or at least, the real you.”

“This is as real as you’re going to get, Sweetheart,” Suho rasps, managing to stand back on his own two feet. You can tell Chen is still wary of him, ready to strike him down one more with a flick of his wrists.

Your brow furrows, “I don’t understand.”

“The spell that created us ensures that in the end, only one of us will be able to survive when it comes down to it, and considering we are the best versions of ourselves, we are the real us, or soon to be at least,” Guan smiles maliciously.

“We’ll see about that,” comes your reply. “Now, I want you guys out of my apartment.”

“What makes you think we’ll comply?” Loey quirks a brow, extinguishing his flames as he relaxes momentarily.

“You want me to trust you, don’t you? After all, if you guys are really going to give me an option and let me choose to go with you, then I’ll need some reassurance that it’s the right choice,” you say, catching his gaze. “Besides, it’ll be easier to make me go with you if we’re not fighting. Isn’t that right?”

At this, you put slightly more pressure onto the back of Kai’s neck, hearing him groan slightly. You normally don’t like hearing your teammates in pain, but this is different, and these are not your teammates. Or so you’d like to think.

“Fine,” Chen sighs, along with Suho.

Good, at least those two still have their common sense.

“Don’t think that we won’t be back for you, though,” Suho adds, the others nodding their agreement almost immediately.

“I wouldn’t expect any less,” you respond, releasing your hold on Kai and allowing him to get up.

You watch as he rolls his shoulder a few times, gritting his teeth together in slight pain. He doesn’t like looking weak in front of the others, especially around you, and this is the second time you’ve managed to evade him.

Under your piercing gaze, they all move back to their original spots, standing opposite you across the room now.

“We’ll be back,” Null says, his voice firm as he stares at you through slightly narrowed eyes.

In the next moment, they’re gone, leaving you alone once more in the middle of your living room. Nothing but the two blades imbedded in your living space serve as a reminder to what has just transpired in your home with these clones.

Once a few minutes have passed by, and you’re sure they’re not going to be returning for the evening, you’re breathing a sigh of relief. You allow your whole body to relax as you move over and pull the one blade out of your coffee table, then proceed to stand on it to do the same to the one stuck in your ceiling.

Stepping down, you place the one blade onto the counter while you pocket your switchblade. So much for a quiet night in.

Double checking that you’ve locked the front door, you make your way to the bathroom. You’re a little wary that one of them could reappear, mainly Kai since he’d be the one to easily get in again through teleporting, but you also decide to give them all the benefit of the doubt, considering all that you’ve learnt about them today.

Flicking on the lights in the bathroom, you step inside, closing the door behind you. Looking at yourself in the mirror, you find yourself leaning against the counter. Taking a few deep breaths to calm your nerves, you shake your head in order to clear it. Tomorrow, for sure, you’re not returning to this apartment again. You’ll stay in your real home for the time being, that way you can assure that they can’t pay you anymore surprise visits like they did tonight.

Locking the bathroom door due to your paranoia, you begin to strip yourself of your clothes. Turning on the water to the shower, you make sure it’s the right temperature before stepping in, letting the water wash away the events of the day.

Standing there under the stream, you allow yourself to think over all the information you’ve gathered about these new clones. Your brow furrows slightly as you think everything over.

For starters, they came to you willingly, all together, and admitted to working together to not only kill your team, but get you in the process. As if you’re some kind of trophy to be won. You roll your eyes.

You’ve learned that despite them all working together, they don’t trust each other. That much is evident from the way they act when you’re threatened by one of them, or mocking an injury from one of them. This also tells you how serious they are about getting you. It looks like they’re not beyond killing even each other to have you for themselves.

Not only that, but you’ve already confirmed that they’re stronger than the originals, considering Kai did transport them all to and from your apartment all at once. Jongin can’t do that, or at least, you don’t think he’s capable of that for he’s never done it before.

One thing though, that’s really bothering you, is how Suho and Guan have been acting. You remember what Suho had said at the very beginning, about the codenames, and you used that to your advantage, not knowing how he would react when he had you pinned against him. You’re lucky your hunch was correct, otherwise that might have gone very differently. What surprised you most though, was Chen.

Part of you was expecting Guan to lunge at Suho first, not that he could have done anything against the vampire himself. However, knowing that Chen, cool and collected, calm and calculating Chen, has a breaking point which involves you, is new information well gathered. If looks could kill, Suho would be dead ten times over based solely off of Chen’s gaze alone.

Another thing that you’ve learned, though you’re not one hundred percent on yet, is that Guan doesn’t seem to like it when others touch you. Your brow furrows even deeper at this, for you’ve never pinned Baekhyun for the jealous type. 

Considering all of their traits are from the originals, but simply amplified, you have no idea what the others have in store for you, let alone how your strike team really feels about you. Based off of this entire situation, you’re betting not everything is as it seems.

Looks like you’re going to have a long chat with them tomorrow about a few things. You won’t force anything out of them, no, but if it’s something that might just save your life, you’ll get it out of them one way or another.

Turning off the water once your done, you quickly grab a towel and dry yourself off. You’ve managed to give yourself a headache from all this thinking and processing of information. Even still, you can’t keep the worry from gnawing at you concerning the safety of your team.

If these clones will stop at nothing to get you, just what lengths are they willing to take to ensure they win in the end?

Even with all your knowledge, and gained intelligence from today, you’re not entirely sure. You just hope that whatever happens, no one ends up dead.

[yeojaa]

SUGAR HIGH, chapter xv. (w. JJK)

You're not entirely sure when it happened, though you'd come to terms with it. You'd counted the days, waiting for the inevitable. You'd truly thought you'd be okay, but by the broken, half-beating thing in your chest - you knew you'd never really been prepared.

alt summary.  You thought you’d known real love and maybe you had - it just wasn’t with who you thought.

pairing.  jeon jungkook.  mentions/involvement of ot7.

tags.  angst, break up, post-break up, comfort, OT7, slow burn, friendship, moving on, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, emotional baggage, fluff, canon compliant, jeon jungkook is bad at feelings, jeon jungkook is a good friend, jeon jungkook is a sweetheart.

rating.  general (for now?)

word count.  1900

chapter 15.  Bandaids

Instead, he regards you with the most unfathomable expression he’s ever given.  “So what?”

“What’re you sorry for?”  He sounds so confused, every word dredged in the word.  His brow furrows, following the question that tips off his teeth and crashes against you.  His fingers flex in his lap, furl and unfurl in unconscious motions that immediately catch your attention.

You watch the way the ink moves over his skin, stretched taut over his knuckles and disappearing into the sleeve of his shirt.  You think to reach out and bottle the nervous energy, tuck it among your hidden words of affection and cobweb-lined shelves.  Instead, you shrink further into the side of the couch, gaze bouncing around the room.  It finds his face – briefly, with guilt – and then darts to the painting of his hung on the far wall.  Off it goes to his hands again, the silver that glints around his wrist, and then the hangnail adorning your own thumb.

The silence has stretched on, immeasurably long, but he doesn’t push you – as much as he wants to.

Not for your sake, but for his.  He’s walking on eggshells, terrified one false move might send a glass into his vein.  Shards of the home that’s been crumbling right before your eyes, reduced to ghost of its former glory.

“I’m sorry,”  you repeat as if it’s the only thing you can say – the only words you know how to speak.  Perhaps it is, because there doesn’t feel like there are any that can properly convey your emotion.

You owe it to him to try, though.  That much is clear.

“You haven’t done anything wrong.”  Unless being too good, too kind, too perfect, was a crime.  You knew it wasn’t and yet, with each offer of patience – of unconditional love – it felt like a cleave to the heart.  It wasn’t his fault you were bleeding out before him.

The reassurance only serves to confuse him more, the emotion heavy in the pretty dark brown of his irises.  You both love and hate when he’s like this – not your precious best friend but a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders.  It doesn’t fit his boyish charm, the sunlight that spills out of every pore.  It’s too much.

“Then what’s going on?”  You’re both surprised by the hard edge and how it forces itself into the equation before he can even consider it.

Your eyes meet for the first time since you’ve sat down and you regret it immediately.

Because your dear sweet Jungkook has oceans in his eyes, moisture threatening to spill over like a crashing wave.  They’re so glassy you feel lost, trapped in the galaxy and the stars and unknown. 

How could you keep doing this?  Time after time, he’d sought you out and each time, you were nothing but a godforsaken mirage, promising him everything and stripping him bare.  When he needed you most, parched and on his last legs, you’d compelled and beguiled him only to leave him just as quickly.

When had you turned into this person?

The sound that escapes your chest isn’t human.  It’s hardly even a sound.  A breath that hasn’t quite formed and cracks itself in two, lodging one half in your lungs and the other over the threshold of your teeth.  How fitting – like a heart split in half.

You see the way he instinctively leans toward you, caught in your gravitational pull, but holds himself back at the last minute.  The movement almost reads like a flinch, as if he’s afraid he’ll hurt himself by getting too close.

That’s right, you think.  I’ll only hurt you.

Another sob comes, tearless and miserable.  You wish the burning behind your eyes would abate but they won’t come that easily.  The settle like poison and wine, corroding your insides.  They sink into every part of you, climbing each vertebrae and slotting into every crevice.  No part is left untouched by the miasma.

Except for the Jungkook-shaped hole in your chest, centered in the throbbing muscle of your heart.

His silhouette remains lily white and lovely – a silver lining.  A beacon in your darkest times, a lighthouse in the storm.  It calls to you and reminds you of better days, of unconditional love and soulmates.

“I love you.”  It’s meant to be an apology but to his ears, it’s the same three words you’ve repeated your whole life.  He doesn’t understand why you’re saying them now, on the precipice of coming apart at the seams, torn open by something you won’t share.

Regardless, he says it back.  Needs to.  “I love you, too.”   

“No!” 

Your rebuff explodes out of you, followed by another cry that lands like a bull’s eye between his ribs.  He thinks he might finally crack, feels the carefully constructed resolve splintering.  Was it so terrible to be loved by him?  He shrinks back, suddenly far smaller than he’s ever seemed.  He’s almost to his feet, blinded by the wetness gathered there.  He can’t be here right now.  He’d been an idiot to try.    

It’s the straw that breaks the camel’s back.  Yours, and his, in tandem.

“I’m sorry.”  You’re across the couch in a single motion, fingers seeking his wildly.  “Please.  Don’t go.”  It’s the first time you’ve ever had to ask this of him, and it feels foreign coming from you.  That, and it’s barely coherent, spoken around tears that have suddenly made themselves very apparent.

You don’t miss the look he gives you, a mixture of exasperation and heartache.  You’ve never seen that specific combination and it cuts like a knife, severing your seeking hands with one fell swoop.

“Why, Soom?”  He’s begging for a reason to stay.  (A part of him thinks he shouldn’t, but he’s never been able to think straight when it comes to you.)

“Because I love you,”  you repeat, like that’s an answer.  He doesn’t say it back this time – too afraid of whatever explosion will shatter the remains of his ribcage and eviscerate his heart. 

Instead, he regards you with the most unfathomable expression he’s ever given.  “So what?”

Whatever you’d expected, it wasn’t that.  It’s a smack to the face, a backhand so severe you’re winded by the blow, staggering back on your haunches as you look up at him.  So what?  What did he mean, so what?  Even through your tears, you can see the flat line of his mouth, his teeth sucking his bottom lip into submission.  The beauty mark smack dab in the centre winks at you.

He’s tired of the dance you’re doing, exhausted by the choreography he hasn’t been taught and is expected to somehow know.  He’s done his very best, poured every ounce of himself into it.

“I’m always here.  I always come running.”  Gone is the golden maknae, replaced by the same, uncertain boy you’d met all those years ago.  “Even when I don’t know if you want me, I come.  I would do anything for you.”  The words are a searing brand straight into chest.  “But you can’t even talk to me.”  There’s something hidden amongst the sadness – resentment, maybe?  You’ve never heard it from him, so it rings unfamiliar and strange.  “I’m trying so fucking hard!”

The way he snaps, words ricocheting off one another, has you alarmed. 

All this time – you’d thought you would hurt him.  So you’d held yourself back for fear of doing so and yet, you’d already done it, torn him to shreds without even thinking.

The knowledge has you babbling, tripping over yourself.  If you’d already hurt him, what did it matter now?  The damage was done.  One more nail in the coffin wouldn’t make a difference.

“I love you!”  How many times you can say it, you’re honestly not sure.  Each time, it’s more agitated, more broken – only held together by the red string that’s connected you all your lives.  It’s barely hanging on though, frayed at the edges and in terrible disrepair.  “I’m so in love with you I don’t know what to do with myself!”  You don’t mean to shout but it comes nonetheless, clawing its way out of the cavity of bones and careening off your lips in a wet sob.  “I feel like I’m going crazy.  I’m so afraid of losing you and everything we have.” 

You’re like a meteor tearing through the upper atmosphere, hurtling toward your doom.  You can’t stop, speaking a mile a minute.  You’re not even looking at him, blinded so by the saltwater in your eyes.  “Being around you is so hard.  It’s impossible to act normal around you after—”  

The silence is deafening as you slam to a stop, beet red and embarrassed.

“After what?”  You hadn’t noticed he’d fallen back into his seat, his face mere inches from yours.

“What?”  You squeak out a hiccup and scramble back, though go nowhere.  A steady weight holds you in place, strong fingers curled around the dainty turn of your wrist while the other forms itself to the slope of your neck.

“After what,”  Jungkook repeats.  He’s so close you can count each individual lash, the way they shimmer with fallen tears.  Gone is the resentment, the anger, replaced by what closely resembles awe.  You don’t have time to consider the meaning behind that when he asks again, harder this time.

You answer without thought, compelled by the heat of his breath and the way his eyes twinkle.  “After I dreamt about you.”  Hesitation because you hadn’t expected the relief that washes over his every inch, releasing the tension in his jaw.  “About us.”

His mouth is on yours in an instant, swallowing the last word whole. 

It’s better than any dream.  Because he is real and he is home and every pass of his soft, dry lips is like sinking further into bliss.  It holds you up in the form of his hands and slots itself in the broken places you’d never fixed. 

You get lost in the sensation and the way he sparks electricity everywhere he touches.  You’ve finally got an outlet for the current that surges through your veins, standing the hairs on the back of your neck and thundering in your ears.  It’s far from perfect – too much clumsily knocking teeth – but the passion is there, years of love swept into the drag of his tongue and the sweet ache of his bite.   

“I love you so fucking much,”  he pants when he’s forced away, cursing the necessity of air and breathing and anything that isn’t you.  “I’ve wanted this since— forever.”

It’s music to your ears, sweeter than any song you’ve ever heard because it’s his voice.

“I love you, too.”  This time, it sounds different.  More.

But more doesn’t seem like enough to him, because he’s pressing sloppy, open-mouthed kisses across every inch of skin.  The corner of your lips, the line of your jaw, the column of your neck that he’s wanted to devour a million times before.  He dresses you in sweet nothings and affection, sucking his devotion into the sensitive point beneath your ear.  He likes the way red blooms beneath your skin – a reminder of his love – so he does it again and again, creating the prettiest mosaic.

It’s all for him, at first.  He’s waited his whole life for this and he takes his time.

When he hears your voice, the soft breathy calls of his name, he realizes he wants to give you more.  Needs it like he needs you.

notes.  here it is, people!  after fifteen excruciating chapters, the cat's out of the bag.  who knows if that's a good thing, tho.  kidding!

[shutupandshipit]

Little Life - Ch.13

Summary:  A baby could ruin his career before it had even started. If anyone found out, he would be kicked out of the Hero Course at the very least and UA at the very worst. Even then, how was he supposed to care for a baby once it arrived? He was a fucking seventeen-year-old boy, not a twenty-nine-year-old omega with their shit at least somewhat together.

…..

Or where Katsuki get pregnant, but is determined to make it to graduation. No matter what it takes.

Pairing: Bakudeku

Rating: T (just for language mostly)

Chapter: 13/16

Previous <- Chapter 12

Chapter 14 -> Next

Master Post

Chapter 13: Class

Katsumi snuffled, making noise for the first time since the class period had started. Without looking up from his notes, Katsuki started to purr low in his chest. He reached between his body and the sling he kept her in to open his shirt enough to tuck her head against his chest.

Immediately, she latched on. He only stiffened for a moment at the sharp pain that reawakened from his abused nipples before settling into the familiar rush of endorphins. Katsumi didn't always want to eat when she woke up, but they'd gotten her on a pretty good schedule. Katsuki also seemed to possess a preternatural understanding of what she wanted before she started to cry, which helped because he could barely stand the crying. He knew that before getting pregnant, and it had not changed. If she was fussy, Izuku usually took her without comment to find a place to soothe her.

Katsuki studiously ignored the way Jirou was stared across the short space between them in fascination.

Katsumi had started growing quickly after her birth. Already, she was six pounds and had sprouted long limbs. She looked like a fucking muppet, but Izuku refused to let him dress her as Kermit the Frog. Not that he still didn't when he got together with Kirishima and Ochako. Mina had been exiled from baby time after she couldn't control her quirk in the baby's presence the first time.

She was still a far cry from how big most pups were even born at, but she was growing. That was the biggest thing. Her small size and uncooperative limbs seemed to be the bane of her existence and the predominant reason for her fussy crying. When she fussed and cried. So far, she'd been a pretty quiet baby, and Katsuki couldn't have been more thankful.

All of her extra energy that didn't go to crying or growing limbs twice her size seemingly went into mass producing hair just like her damn father. While her eyes were still the vibrant red of Katsuki's, her hair had become a bushel of green curls that he just knew he'd be fighting for the rest of his natural life.

Ten minutes later, Aizawa snapped his book closed at the front of the class. "Take fifteen. Midnight will be here soon." Without preamble, he strode from the room to leave his rowdy students to their chaos.

Katsuki groaned, stretching one arm over his head and then the other to keep Katsumi still. In her sling, Katsumi's mouth pulled away. She started to whine against his skin. Fishing her out to wiggle his fingers in her face, he said without looking, "Deku, can you take Katsumi? I need to piss."

Izuku swooped in beside him, pressing a kiss to Katsuki's temple as he scooped up the baby. She was dressed in an All Might onesie that was still a little big on her, but Katsuki had modified it in the important places. "Of course I can. How's my beautiful baby girl doing?" he cooed, pressing kisses all over her face and stomach as she giggled.

Katsuki stood, stretching again before returning the kiss. "She probably needs a change before Midnight gets here. I didn't change her before this period. She might be dry, but you should check." He shoved his hands deep into his pockets to keep from reaching for her again. He trusted Izuku implicitly with Katsumi, but there was always a bit of anxiety when he let her go. Izuku wasn't the problem in this equation, it was the rest of the idiots who got up to coo at the little green haired baby. If he didn't have to pee, he wouldn't leave their sides for an instant, but if he were actually being honest, he needed a moment to himself. "You know, before she starts screaming. She needs to be burped too. Give her five more minutes, and then check if she needs a change."

Before he left, he turned to Kirishima. "Don't let Mineta anywhere near them. If I find him within ten feet of her again, I will string him up by his ankles at the front gate."

Looking aggrieved, but in complete agreement, Kirishima nodded.

Izuku didn't look up at he nodded as well, spending the time blowing a raspberry against her cheek to make her giggle again. "I can do that," he said before exclaiming, "You've been eating so much, but it's all going to your hair!"

Turning, Katsuki quickly left the room, ignoring the urge to snap the necks of everyone that crowded around Izuku in his wake. He'd just have to trust Kirishima -which he also did- to keep them mostly at bay.

Instead of taking a urinal, Katsuki locked himself in a stall. When he was done, he just pressed his back to the door. He scrubbed at his eyes with the back of his wrists. He was tired, so fucking tired.

Between class, homework, training and the baby, it felt like he never slept. Which was a lie. Katsumi never cried at night. Both his and Izuku's bodies were set on a timer now, and rarely did they not wake up before she even began to murmur. So, they never got the jerk of surprise from being woken by a cry. Waking up every couple of hours was still waking up every couple of hours though.

So far, Katsuki had only woken up three times to find Katsumi nursing while Izuku dosed with the two of them pulled to his chest, the baby cradled between them. And there had only been four times when Izuku didn't even twitch a muscle when Katsuki rose to get her from her crib.

Still, he was tired. He knew he would be. That was at least something that had been consistent in his research. He had been tired for ten straight months, and he was likely to be until Katsumi could at least make a sandwich on her own.

With a heavy sigh, he moved to push himself away from the door, but stopped when he heard the bathroom door open again.

"Yo, like what the fuck is up with that?" a voice asked, unfamiliar, but most voices were. He didn't usually pay enough attention to other students enough to recognize people he didn't see as frequently as his classmates.

"What's up with what?" Another unfamiliar voice.

"That prick from 3-A carrying around a baby. What the fuck is his name again? Bakugou or something?"

"Dude, didn't you see the news. That's the baby he rescued during that huge battle a month ago."

The first voice scoffed. "That's a load of crap, and you know it. Did you know he's an omega?"

"Yes? He's part of the big three and he's one of the only male omegas in the hero course? Do you even go to this school? What are you on about? Are you jealous that he's a better hero than you or just mad that he's not your omega?"

"Me? Jealous of that asshole? As if," the first voice laughed, "That baby is his for sure. He probably fucked his way to the top, and got pregnant doing it. Bet if I asked nicely, he'd get on his knees like the slut he is. I'd show him what a real alpha is supposed to be. He'd never get enough-"

Having heard enough, Katsuki kicked open the stall door, breaking the lock and the hinges in one fell swoop.

"Oh shit," the holder of the second voice whispered, eyes widening as he stood up straight from where he'd been leaning against a skin.

Darkly, Katsuki traced his eyes over the alpha standing still in front of a urinal, lingering on his dick in his hands. He smirked, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "Like you could ever hope to be enough of an alpha to handle me. I would wreck you," he growled, stepping passed the broken stall door to stand next to him, "Like you'd be enough of an alpha to handle my mate." His eyes dropped to the alpha's dick again as he sneered. "Pathetic. Omega or not, baby or not, I'm still going to be the top in the end."

With that very specific, very pointed double entendre, he headed for the door. He stopped by the other student who was cowering by the sink. The boy stunk of the other alpha, but the scent was forced, not mixed like it was with him and Izuku. Their coupling clearly wasn't a happy one. He clapped the student on the shoulder, and the boy flinched. "Listen omega, I'm only going to say this once. Don't settle for an alpha just because you think you need to to make it at this school as a hero. You're better than the likes of him. There are way better people out there to be your mate and friend. You can stand on your own two feet just fine."

He left before either student could get their faculties about them.

.....

Katsuki and Izuku were on the couch watching Ochako float a giggling Katsumi in her lap when Katsuki's phone rang. Picking it up, he immediately yelled, "Kirishima, catch!" before chucking it across the common room.

"Ah man, not again," Kirishima whined as he caught the phone to answer it brightly. "Mrs. Bakugou, hi! No, he's not available right now. He's at training with All Might. Right. Yes, I know. Yeah, I'll tell him. No, I don't think he's avoiding you." He shot Katsuki a heated look before returning to the call. "He's just really busy right now with practicals and finals coming up. Yeah, I'll tell him. Okay. Bye."

Kirishima walked back to him, phone in hand. "Man, stop avoiding your mom. You're going to have to talk to her at some point."

Katsuki sneered. "Like hell I do."

"Kacchan, you still haven't talked to your parents?" Izuku asked, pinning him with an admonishing glare.

"You can't say shit to me. You haven't told your mom about Katsumi either," Katsuki spat back, standing to sit on the floor beside Ochako. He wiggled his fingers in Katsumi's face and she grabbed for them, face scrunching when she couldn't quite catch them. When he stilled long enough for her to grip his fingers, she immediately stuffed them in her mouth.

Izuku's face reddened, and he stuttered, "W-well, I'm just... waiting for the perfect moment. I don't want to tell her over the phone."

"And I don't want to wake up with a knife to my throat. I'm saving your ass too. She'll kill me, but she'll hang you outside the front door like a flag, and you know it."

Izuku groaned, but didn't protest as he dropped his face into his hands. "She's just going to be more angry the longer we wait."

Ochako sighed. "I know that Mr. Aizawa said it was your jobs to tell your parents about this since you're 'adults' -loosely defined- but this is honestly a childish way to go about it. You can't hide this from her forever. She already knows you're hiding something. You need to stop hiding, and get this over with."

"Give me back my baby," Katsuki growled without much heat.

"No, she's having fun," Ochako retorted, smacking away his other hand as it reached for Katsumi, "Anyway, just meet them at the mall or something. Take All Might with you to run interference or explain or something. Just get it over with. We have some time coming up, and you should tell them before we're completely swamped."

"We're already swamped."

"Bakugou-" Ochako started.

Izuku cut in before she could say something that would actually make Katsuki take Katsumi upstairs. "That's a good point and a good idea. I'll talk to All Might."

Katsuki groaned loudly, but didn't protest. Silently, he just started to plan his and Izuku's joint funeral.

[singledarkshade]

New Old Friend

Summary: Rip finds himself in a town full of geniuses. To his surprise he’s already got an ally, which will be helpful, as his shard is in a top-secret research facility’s highest security section. Part Eight of Rip Hunter – Unstuck in Time and Space. Sequel to Unstuck In Time And Place, Under The Sea, A Mother’s Advice, Abydos Vacation, Connections, Perfect Day and Detective Hunter. Author’s Note: I probably shouldn't be posting this yet as I have only a vague idea of the story. I've never written for any of the Eureka characters before so I hope they come across okay. Anyway, hopefully the next chapter will be up soon. Enjoy Part One The smell of wet earth surrounded him as the light faded. Pulling himself up off the ground, Rip looked around. There were trees everywhere and the road he was standing on went on as far as the eye could see in both ways.

“Where the hell am I now?” Rip sighed.

With a grimace he decided to start walking. The one thing he’d learned since he’d began bouncing through dimensions was that he was usually either near the shard or to someone who was.

“Gideon?” he called, waited for a few moments before sighing again and turned to his left.

It was as good a direction as any.

Rip had been walking for about an hour when it began to rain, a few drops hit his hand before a torrent of water suddenly fell from the sky.

“Bollocks,” Rip snapped, moving to shelter under one of the millions of trees and watching the rain fall.

A horn honking made him turn to see a jeep with the words ‘Sheriff’ emblazoned on it drawing up beside him.

“Hi there,” the man leaned out the window, short blond hair, blue eyes, he had what could only be described as an ‘everyman’ quality to him, “Are you lost?”

Rip took a breath, “Possibly.”

“Car trouble?” the man Rip deduced from the uniform to be the Sheriff asked with an amused grin on his face.

Shrugging, Rip replied, “Something like that,” an idea struck him, “I was hoping to get into town and get a tow.”

“Well, I’m heading back now,” the man told him, “I can give you a lift.”

“I would appreciate that,” Rip smiled, and climbed into the passenger seat.

“Jack Carter,” the man introduced himself, “Town Sheriff.”

“Rip Hunter,” he reciprocated, unable to stop himself adding, “Current vagabond and drowned rat.”

Jack laughed and started to drive.

Jack looked at the man sitting beside him, the accent had instantly given away that he wasn’t from these parts. His hair was soaked and plastered to his head, although the long coat he was wearing appeared to have saved the rest of his clothes from the worst of the rain.

“There’s a clean towel in the gym bag on the back seat,” Jack told him, “If you want to dry off.”

“Thank you,” Rip replied sincerely turning and stretching for the bag.

Jack studied him for a moment before asking, “So what is your specialist subject?”

“Sorry?” Rip asked as he dried his hair.

Jack chuckled, “What do you have your Doctorate or PhD in? Mathematics of the Mind? Gene Manipulator? I’ll even pretend to understand.”

The man looked at him a little confused before replying hesitantly, “I work with Artificial Intelligence.”

“Sounds fun,” Jack said, “My house has an AI.”

“Really?”

Jack nodded, “Are they all bossy?”

Rip smiled softly, “The ones I know definitely are.”

Reaching the edge of town Jack watched Rip look of interest. He remembered the first time he walked into the insane asylum he now called home, how it had seemed so normal at first but then he saw the weirdness.

“You get used to it,” Jack told his passenger who was staring in bemusement at the people they passed.

 Rip stared out the window at the perfect small town he was being driven through, something was niggling at his brain about it and finally he saw what it was. A kid on the pavement was writing a complex mathematical equation in chalk, while another sat on the ground surrounded by books of advanced biochemistry. Jack’s question about what degree he held made some actual sense now and Rip began to wonder even more where he was.

Jack turned onto what looked like a main street and parked in front of the Sheriff’s station.

“Thank you for your help, Sheriff,” Rip said as he climbed out the car, “I appreciate it.”

“It’s Jack and you can pay me back,” Jack told him, “I have some boxes I need to unload from the trunk. I could use some help. I can offer some coffee and donuts. You look like you need to heat up a bit.”

Rip hesitated, trying to work out if he should just run but Jack seemed genuine and he did owe the man.

“Of course,” Rip smiled.

“Thanks,” Jack opened the trunk, “They dumped the swap meet collection on me, well I sort of volunteered,” he pulled out a box and passed it to Rip before grabbing one for himself, “No one mentioned it would mean doing so much heavy lifting.”

Following the other man inside, Rip tensed slightly as he was now in a police station. Looking around he saw the cell and worked out three ways to release himself from it there and then.

“Henry,” Jack said making Rip turn to see a man standing waiting, “What are you doing here?”

The man, Henry, grinned, “I’m here for Rip.”

Ice filled Rip’s spine and he forced himself not to demand how the man knew who he was.

“You know Henry?” Jack asked before rolling his eyes, “Of course, getting a tow.”

“Dr Hunter is joining us for a few days to help me with a project,” Henry continued, as Rip became more confused, “All his credentials should be in the system.”

Jack sat at his computer, typing with the one finger technique which drove Rip crazy instantly, “You should have told me you were here to work for GD.”

“He’s not really,” Henry said before Rip could reply.

Jack shrugged, “As long as you don’t blow anything up or accidentally nearly end the world, I’m happy to have you in town.”

Rip chuckled, still confused but replied, “Thanks, Jack. And thanks for the ride into town.”

Henry tapped his arm, “Let’s go get some lunch and then I’ll take you to where you’ll be staying for the next few days.”

  Rip walked out the Sheriff’s station with the man introduced as Henry, waiting till they were on the street before demanding, “What the hell is going on? How do you know who I am?”

“Let’s get to Café Diem first,” Henry murmured as he nodded to people greeting him, “I’ll explain once we’re there.”

Unable to argue as Henry started across the road, Rip followed. He wished Gideon were here for her opinion. Wondering if she just hadn’t found him yet or if she was busy with the Legends and hoped whatever she was doing, she appeared soon.

The café was cheerful, it only had about half a dozen people dotted around the dining area but from the smell of the food it would fill soon.

“Henry,” a man who Rip assumed was the manager walked over to them, “What can I get you?”

“Need to use one of the booths, Vincent,” Henry said, “And lunch.”

Vincent’s eyes lit up, “Something important happening?”

Henry laughed, “Just catching up with an old friend. Rip,” he introduced, “This is Vincent, he runs Café Diem.”

“Nice to meet you,” Rip nodded politely before asking.

“And you. Whatever you want to eat just tell me,” Vincent told him with a smile, “Our motto is, ‘You want it, we’ve got it’.”

Rip smiled amused, “Give me a few minutes and I’ll let you know.”

“Booths are just back there,” Vincent smiled before leaving them to talk to someone else.

Following Henry, Rip slid into the booth across from him in the very back corner.

“Who are you?” Rip demanded softly, “And how do you know who I am?”

Henry reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper, “My name is Henry Deacon and I know who you are because you told me, the last time we met.”

“The last time we met?”

Sliding the piece of paper across to him Henry smiled, “This might help.”

Picking up the paper, Rip unfolded it and read the note.

You can trust Henry, Spaniel, Broad, Tricycle. Rip.

“I wrote the note,” Rip breathed.

Henry nodded, “About six years ago. For me anyway,” he shrugged, “I don’t know how long it will be for you.”

Rip let out a sigh of relief, “Then you know who I am?”

  “And what can I get you gentlemen?” Vincent appeared at their table before Henry could explain any further.

“I’ll have the linguini,” Henry ordered, “And my usual coffee.”

“And you?” Vincent turned to Rip adding when Rip hesitated, “Whatever you want I can make. What’s your favourite meal?”

Rip shook his head with a chuckle, “One of my favourite meals is Fish and Chips.”

Vincent laughed, “And I thought you were going to make things difficult. What about a drink.”

“Tea please,” Rip replied, “With lemon. And yes, I know I’m reinforcing a stereotype with both orders.”

With a smile Vincent left them alone again. Henry waited until he was sure the other man was far enough away.

“Is Gideon with you?” Henry asked, seeing the same shocked expression Rip had worn several times since they’d met up.

“Ah, not at the moment.”

He grimaced, “Well, let me know when she does appear. I have something I want her to advise on.”

“Wait,” Rip rubbed his temple, “You need to tell me what’s going on because I am very confused.”

Henry chuckled, “About six years ago for me, and some indeterminate time in your future, I was working at Nasa and a bright light filled the lab I was working in. When it faded, you were there. It was three in the morning, so I did think I was hallucinating, but you knew who I was and told me we would meet again in Eureka.”

Rip frowned but remained silent.

“The thing was I had literally just received the offer to come here that morning,” Henry explained.

“And that is why you trusted me?” Rip asked.

Henry shook his head, “I trusted you because you told me something specific that I told you to tell me.”

Before Rip could ask Vincent reappeared with their meals.

“For Henry, the chicken and mushroom linguini,” Vincent slid the plate in front of him before turning to Rip, “And for you, beer battered cod with twice cooked chips, freshly shelled garden peas, blanched with a small knob of butter.”

“Wow,” Rip said surprised, “That sounds…fantastic.”

“And since I had some batter left,” Vincent placed a small bowl on the table, “I made you onion rings as well.”

Rip nodded at the chef, “Thank you.”

“Enjoy,” Vincent bustled away.

Henry smiled, “We can talk more once we’ve eaten. I’m guessing it’s been a while since you’ve had something.”

Gratefully Rip turned to the plate in front of him and began to eat.

                                 *********************************************

 Alison Blake knew today had been too quiet as she marched through the corridors of GD Section 5 to Lab 53 where Nathan was standing waiting for her.

“What’s wrong?” she demanded.

Nathan grimaced, “Not sure if wrong is the word for it.”

“Nathan, you called me down here urgently,” Alison reminded him testily, “Why, Dr Stark?”

He grimaced at the use of his title instead of his name before opening the door to the lab. He stepped out the way so she could see in, “To show you this.”

Alison looked in and gaped seeing a strangely shaped object stuck in the centre of the floor, a soft golden glow emanating from it.

“What is that?” she breathed.

Nathan sighed, “I’ve no idea but the energy it’s giving off is immense.”

“And considering the last time we encountered an unknown object giving off a massive amount of energy,” Alison grimaced.

“Then this could be trouble.”

[bugaboosandbees]

Duchess Noir Part 4

Okay, to all who have requested an alternate version of my Reine Ruse AU where Adrien doesn’t learn his lesson and Chloe ends up with the black cat miraculous, here you go! The first three parts of this Duchess Noir AU are simply the first three parts of my Reine Ruse AU. This AU diverges from that one in chapter 4 when Adrien refuses to recognize and work to fix his mistakes.

What do you all think, should I go back and just change the titles of my previous Reine Ruse posts, or should I repost them with the Duchess Noir heading and make two separate masterlists? Thanks in advance for your opinions, and I hope that all you guys who wanted even more salt in this mess enjoy this. :)

Shoot me an ask or a message if you’d like to be tagged in this or if you have any more ideas for things I should write!

Plagg

“Can you believe this Plagg?” Adrien bit out as he grabbed several tissues to staunch the bloody nose that was still oozing despite the long run across the Parisian rooftops he’d had to get back from the Grand Paris Hotel. “I can’t believe that Chloe, of all people, would equate me with those people! She just doesn’t understand!” Pausing in his tirade, Adrien looked around, eyes finally landing on Plagg who was floating, deathly still and with slitted eyes, in the place Adrien had detransformed.

For his part, Plagg was furious. He couldn’t believe he’d let matters escalate this far, but he honestly hadn’t been aware that his kitten’s mindset had gotten this warped. He knew the kid wasn’t the best at decoding social cues and he’d felt sorry for the boy alone in such a cold home so, yeah, he’d given the kid a couple more passes for behavior than he might have given another chosen. He might not have been the best Black Cat he’d ever had, but he wasn’t the type to go rogue and try to destroy the world, and he didn’t hurt Plagg -- all things considered, he’d had much worse wielders in the past and the kid just seemed so lonely… He’d thought that after the whole debacle with the akuma that flooded Paris that things had more or less resolved themselves and, to be honest, he’d never paid much attention to his kitten’s banter with Tikki’s bug. If he’d only paid more attention… Shit, this really wasn’t his strong suit. Tikki was much better at getting through to people. He knew screaming at Adrien would just make him shut down… he needed to be calm, which would be hard.

“Did you ever consider,” Plagg offered in a level voice, “that she might have been right?”

 If things hadn’t been so serious, Plagg might have cackled at the poleaxed look on Adrien’s face. “What?!”

“Kid, just listen to me,” Plagg sighed. “Let’s go with a hypothetical situation here. Say you were partnered with someone while modeling, and you only worked with that person. You saw that person as your best friend, and you had to rely on them in order for anything to work out at your job. You really like this other person outside of work, but you can’t say anything about it because you don’t want people who know about your job to harass them. You’ve told your partner this, more than once, but they still insist on telling people that the two of you are dating or that you’ll come around to their charms eventually. They derail photoshoots and events by flirting, and you have to do most, if not all, of the work in your partnership. You’re just trying to keep your head down and get your work done, but your partner gets more and more pushy until it’s gotten to the point where they attempt to physically chase and restrain you to demand a date. Adrien, kid, you’re a great black cat, but, please tell me that you see that that’s not a healthy relationship.” Plagg maintained eye contact with his kitten, doing his best to exude the sort of calm and understanding presence that came so naturally to Tikki. Please, please listen to me. At the rate things were going, if Adrien didn’t stop what he was doing soon, he’d throw off the balance too far and Plagg would need to take the miraculous back. And Plagg knew, better than anyone, how much Adrien needed Chat Noir. Please, kid.

Adrien looked down at his hands. They sat there for what felt like ages in silence as Adrien thought and Plagg watched over his kitten. He’d never admit it, but the ancient god felt his heart break in his chest when Adrien looked back up at him, anger in his eyes. “You don’t understand either.”

Marinette

Any sense of safety that she’d felt evaporated the second she swung off of Chloe’s balcony and into the night. Marinette took the most roundabout way she could think of home, glancing over her shoulder almost more often than she looked ahead and scanning the surrounding rooftops with wide-blown eyes. When she finally detransformed and collapsed on her chaise, she breathed a sigh of relief. She could feel Tikki huddled in the space where her neck met her shoulder as she took several deep, bracing breaths. Once she felt calm and safe again, she looked up at her room and at the dozens of posters and pictures of Adrien crowded across its walls. She’d considered taking them down for a few weeks now, as Adrien’s inaction against Lila had dampened her crush. But now… She looked down at Tikki and sighed. “This was never healthy, was it?”

Tikki met her eyes with the infinite compassion Marinette was still baffled that she could always count on and hardly felt she deserved and gently shook her head.

“I…” Marinette paused and firmed her jaw. “No. I’m not going to be like that anymore. I’m not going to be like that ever again.” And as the stars above Paris shone down on a city that slept, its heroine moved methodically about her room, taking down posters and schedules and computer backgrounds. When she finished, it looked… empty, but a healthy kind of empty full of promise and possibility. She could already think of so many ways to fill the space she’d freed… but that would be a task for tomorrow.

She felt her eyelids drooping as she crawled into bed and flung one arm over her face. What had happened that night felt so surreal. Then again, the past several weeks had felt entirely like a waking dream -- or nightmare. Since Hawkmoth had appeared and she’d become Ladybug for the first time, she’d had to upend her worldview completely, but she’d done that, she’d gotten used to the way things had become. Since Lila arrived back at school everything had been turned on its head once again and Marinette could hardly tell which way was up and which way was down anymore. Alya hadn’t spoken to her kindly in days, her partner was becoming a terrifying stranger, and the only place she felt safe was with Chloe Bourgeois, of all people. She still wasn’t sure why she’d gone to Chloe’s balcony that first night or why she kept returning. Chloe had made her life miserable for years, had beaten down her self-confidence to such an extent that she’d had no one before Alya and had tried to cut her down at every turn for as long as she could remember. Those feelings of anger and despair hadn’t just disappeared -- but things were so complicated now… She didn’t know what she felt about Chloe anymore. Well, that wasn’t necessarily something that she had to sort out immediately either. She’d take this one day at a time, and, if Chloe kept improving and really turned into someone she could truly rely on, well, then she’d think about what it would mean to forgive her.

She’d cross that bridge when she got there.

Tikki

Tikki gazed down at her sleeping chosen. The determined frown she’d worn while removing all traces of her obsessive crush from her room had faded as she fell asleep. She couldn’t help the proud feeling that welled up in her when Marinette had confronted her own flaws when faced with the more glaring example of her partner’s. She would have been totally within her rights to have let the crying jag that passed at Chloe’s continue longer than she had, but she’d demonstrated true Ladybug strength yet again and learned from another awful situation what she could. Still, the extent to which Plagg’s kitten had damaged her trust in him was worrying -- on both sides of the mask.

Tikki heard a whimper and glanced down to see her chosen’s face twisted in a nightmare. “Chat, no… why?” she whispered brokenly. Tikki’s face hardened. That was it -- this had gone too far. She was going to Fu. She planted a small kiss on Marinette’s forehead and flew out the window into the night.

She hadn’t even gone a block when she saw Plagg. He was, as she had only seen a handful of times in their eternity together, crying, and he held the ring of the black cat in his paws.

“Plagg?” She questioned gently.

He started when he noticed her and rubbed his eyes. “Hey Tikks,” he sighed.

“What happened?”

“I tried to reason with him Tikks, how he treated your bug wasn’t right. I’m sorry that I let it get that far… he… he wouldn’t listen to me. He won’t acknowledge his faults and that’s playing havoc with the balance. I… I had to take it from him. I waited until he was asleep. He was so lonely Tikks. I know he had a lot of faults, but I… I didn’t want to leave him.”

Tikki wrapped Plagg in a hug and for a moment they simply drifted, silent above the sleeping city.

“We need to find you a new chosen -- Ladybug can’t do this alone.”

Plagg sighed. “I know.”

“But first,” Tikki felt a wave of uncharacteristic anger threaten to bubble over, “We need to have a talk with the Guardian.”

Master Fu

Wang Fu suddenly shot awake. He looked at the window beside his bed -- it was still the middle of the night. Why? He felt an urgent pull inside his chest, below his breastbone. He was being summoned? What had happened? He quickly turned toward the miracle box and was met with the sight of the kwamis of creation and destruction staring solemnly at him. He could read anger in the downturn of Tikki’s eyes and sadness in the way Plagg’s head hung low over his body.

“Tikki? Plagg? What is wrong? Why have you come here without your chosen?”

“The boy you chose to wield the black cat miraculous broke the balance between Plagg and I’s wielders. He has betrayed my chosen on both sides of the mask and just tonight he hunted her across the city in what appeared to be an attempt to physically force her to reciprocate his feelings. You have allowed him to continue in a dangerous mindset unchecked for too long.”

“But --”

“No,” Plagg interrupted. “She’s right. I tried to reason with him, tried to teach him, but he won’t listen to me. He’s closed off our bond, though he doesn’t realize it, and he’s broken the balance entirely. I know the reasons that you chose him for the ring and, for a while, despite his faults, I honestly thought that you made the right decision. But he was so lonely, Fu. You chose a wielder that needed to learn in order to work effectively but who refused to listen to anyone but himself.”

“Now, listen. I cannot justify the risk of bringing in a new wielder this late into the battle against Hawkmoth!” Fu was certain that this was a misunderstanding -- he’d made the right decision with Adrien, he was sure of it.

The air in the room stilled and he suddenly found it harder to breathe. Tikki’s eyes narrowed and she began to glow as she loosed some of her aura into the space. “Cannot justify the risk?” her voice echoed in a way that did not fit her size. “What about the risk to my chosen? You may be the guardian of the miracle box, but you forget that you were never formally trained. You forget what your mistakes have already cost. You are not infallible. You are not a god. And that was not a request.”

Fu trembled before her. “V… very well. I shall choose a new --”

“We shall choose.” Plagg broke in.

“Forgive us if we have lost faith in your judgment.” Bit out Tikki. “And Wayzz?” she acknowledged the turtle kwami that had been waiting, frozen, in a corner of the room for the first time. “Make sure he actually thinks about this mistake.” She met Fu’s eyes one last time, conveying a sense of disappointment and disapproval that almost brought him to his knees, and then wrapped one small arm around Plagg’s shoulders and they flew out the window and into the night.

Chloe

Chloe Bourgeois couldn’t sleep. Her confrontation with Chat Noir played over and over again in her head. Her nails dug crescents into her palms as she thought about the proprietary way that the cat had talked about Ladybug and the fear in the heroine’s eyes as she’d tumbled into Chloe’s apartment and run to hide. An uncomfortable pang of guilt ran through her as she thought of her friendship with Sabrina before she’d abandoned her for Lila and her previous self-serving idolatry of Ladybug. No. There was no use feeling guilty for her past mistakes. She would apologize, and she would not make them again.

She only wished that she had the power to make her apology to Ladybug mean something more, that she could actually protect her, rather than only being there to pick up the pieces that Hawkmoth or Chat Noir had broken. She started as she heard a soft knock on the glass pane of the balcony door. Rising from her bed, she padded over to see Ladybug’s kwami waiting outside her window with a stormy expression, alongside another kwami, so dark he blended into the night, with piercing green eyes, and… cat ears. Chloe opened the door as quickly as she was able and gestured the two inside.

“What’s wrong? Is he…?” She questioned. If Ladybug’s kwami was here without her, what could have happened? If that cat had gotten her akumatized… And if the other kwami was who she thought...

“Many things,” Tikki replied, “but nothing urgent. There is not an attack, and Ladybug is safe.”

“Then why --?”

“She is safe for now.” The other kwami cut in. He looked like he was struggling to get the next words out. “You’ve seen that her partner has demonstrated that he is almost as present a danger to her as Hawkmoth emotionally. She needs help that she can trust, someone to stand by her against all threats no matter how hard or dangerous things become.” He stared directly at Chloe. There was a pressure behind his gaze that was almost physical, and Chloe fought to not flinch. “Do you think you could do that?”

It took Chloe a moment to register the question. Did she? And then a vision of Ladybug’s eyes, still full of tears, flashed inside her mind. She met his gaze evenly. “Yes.”

For a moment, all was silent as the dark kwami stared into her soul. Chloe could only hope that the tiny god found something worthwhile there. Eventually, he nodded.

“Very well then.” He held up a silver ring in his paws. “Chloe Bourgeois, I am Plagg, the god of destruction. This is the miraculous of the black cat. It represents one half of the universal balance and it grants you my dominion over destruction. You will use it to be Ladybug’s right hand, her shield, her friend, and her support as she will be yours. You will reveal your identity to no one. If at any point you forsake your duty to your partner and to the balance, I will reclaim the miraculous and ensure that you never forget your mistake. Do you understand?”

Chloe’s heart was beating through her chest. “Yes.”

Tikki

Tikki landed on the small pillow that Marinette kept beside her bed for her use. She looked at her charge once more. She only hoped that she and Plagg had made the right decision. They didn’t have time to scour the city for a new wielder that was suited for Plagg and the list of those that they knew well enough to consider who would work well with Marinette had gotten much shorter since the arrival of the liar and the discord she had sewn across Marinette’s relationships.

“Don’t worry Marinette,” she mumbled sleepily, “things will turn out all right.” Her eyes drifted close, and she let herself sink into a restful sleep, heartened by the fact that there was now someone she could count on to protect her chosen when she could not.

[hashtagartistlife]

To take a break from the wdkaly bs (but not from the bl**ch ending salt), I’ve been mulling around-- I wouldn’t even call it a meta, it’s nothing so grand as that-- an idea in my head for a while now, regarding ichigo-masaki, rukia-kaien, and loosely, isshin-masaki, and the point of all three of those relationships with regard to the ichiruki relationship. 

I’ve always thought the ichiruki relationship is a miracle of a balancing act, for the simple fact that it’s clearly mirroring ichigo-masaki and rukia-kaien, and yet it managed to never be dictated by those associations. How many ih’ers have made the claim that ichigo-rukia is a mother-son or a mentor-student relationship? With a literal mother-son and mentor-student relationship being their parallels, you might think this claim has some grounds-- and yet, ichiruki are anything BUT mother-son or mentor-student in their dynamic. Kubo has managed to avoid them falling into this trap so beautifully by virtue of two things: one, Ichigo and Rukia don’t consciously, directly associate Masaki and Kaien with one another, and two: yes, ichigo-masaki and rukia-kaien are parallels to the ichiruki relationship, but the whole point of them coming up as a parallel was that this time, things are different, and therefore better. 

Bear in mind that the ichigo-rukia similarity to ichigo-masaki and rukia-kaien was obvious to us as third-person omniscient readers, but Ichigo and Rukia themselves don’t consciously look at the other person and think ‘ah, mom’ or ‘ah, Kaien-dono’. Let’s start with the Ichigo-Masaki parallel, which is pretty damn clear cut: it’s directly paralleled with Ichiruki in the chapter Broken Coda. HOWEVER, there is not a single instance in which Ichigo puts Rukia up next to his mom and thinks that they are similar. In fact, in-narrative, their symbols are different: Ichigo describes his mom as the sun, and while we’ve never had in-canon material regarding which celestial body Ichigo thinks Rukia is, word-of-god tells us Rukia is his ray of light, which is much more moon connotations (a ray of light offering hope in the darkness) than it is a sun thing. Sure, he does have his mom flashback moment with regard to Rukia in Broken Coda, where he narrates that he wasn’t able to protect... again, indicating he’s equating this failure to his failure to protect his mom. But note, what he’s equating here is the failure; he’s not equating rukia to his mom directly. It’s made abundantly clear throughout the rest of the manga that Rukia’s significance to him is unique and not due to some random similarity with Masaki. When Orihime is asked, what makes this girl so special? she answers not with ‘she’s like the sun; she draws everyone in; she reminds him of his mother’ but with ‘she changed his world’, an answer that clearly sets her apart from anyone else mentioned in the manga for Ichigo.

Now, Rukia-Kaien. The Rukia-Kaien parallel is a little looser, and a little more extended than the Ichigo-Masaki one. The obvious episodic parallel here is Memories in the Rain (and just to reinforce it, Rukia’s flashback chapters involving Kaien are called… you guessed it, Memories in the Rain 2). But here, if Rukia is reminded of anything by Ichigo’s recklessness, it’s not Kaien himself; it’s Kaien’s recklessness, Kaien’s desire for revenge, and her inability to stop him from going to his destruction that she recalls. Just like with Ichigo, she’s not equating Ichigo to Kaien – she’s equating her helplessness in the first situation to her helplessness in the second.

But MITR alone isn’t the full Rukia-Kaien story parallel; it’s only a parallel to the first part of it, the part where Rukia struggles with her helplessness and indecision. It’s worth noting that Rukia actually does not recall Kaien at all during the first MITR mini-arc; all she flashes back to is Ukitake, giving the speech about fights to protect life and fights to protect pride. The second part of the Kairuki – Ichiruki parallel is the Soul Society arc, where Rukia is fully convinced that Ichigo (Kaien) is about to die (actually died) because of her (because she stabbed him). And yet, note again it’s not Ichigo’s similarity to Kaien that she dwells on, it’s the guilt that she feels for both situations that’s most prominent. And so, Ichigo’s similarity to Kaien, physical or otherwise, is never brought up by her, never even thought of by her, even thought she has obvious reasons to do so. In this way, Kubo cleverly overlays the Kairuki storyline over the Ichiruki storyline but also manages to avoid the major pitfall of Rukia directly equating Ichigo to Kaien: ‘DOES THAT MEAN SHE’S ONLY SEEING ICHIGO AS A REPLACEMENT KAIEN???’ The answer to that is a HELL NO. Rukia has never approached and bonded with Ichigo as anyone BUT pure Ichigo.

The only times Ichigo’s physical resemblance to Kaien has been brought up was through the mouth of other people; Byakuya, Ukitake. And this is yet another clever way Kubo overlaid these parallels; Kairuki doesn’t factor into the purity of the Ichiruki bond, because Rukia hasn’t ever dwelled on it directly, but this is a nudge-nudge wink-wink to the readers. Rukia doesn’t think about the fact that Ichigo looks almost identical to her first love, but we sure as hell do. ‘This is the same situation!’ Kubo says, ‘only this time, he’s not married! How do you think this will pan out, hmm?’ Additionally—this part is a bit of a reach, but whatever, I’m throwing it in—canonically, Ichigo’s never once thought anything about Rukia that seemed even VAGUELY similar to how he thought about his mom. But Rukia has described Kaien as warm—like putting your hand into a sunbeam without realizing it. Oh wow, I wonder who else Kubo has called sun in direct relation to Rukia????

I know this might be a bit confusing, because I just spent two paragraphs explaining how Rukia doesn’t equate Kaien to Ichigo, but now it seems like I’m saying Kubo’s equating Kaien to Ichigo. He’s not. What Kubo IS doing is he’s established a situational parallel in-narrative, in that the characters themselves only ever equate the situations and not the corresponding characters directly—but by fully utilizing his and our awareness as third-person omniscient readers, he’s pointing out additional factors that might be interesting but not necessarily critical for the overall plot. ‘Hey, that Kairuki tragedy sure was a shame. Luckily, we’ve got a similar story setup in which it was resolved happily! Also, Kaien ver 2 happens to be super not married. Super, super not married. Lol not that it means anything. I know everyone keeps pointing out how similar they look but pfft I’m sure nothing’s ever going to happen there.’ Yeah, fucking right. This asshole.

….Anyway, that leads me to the actual point of my post: THE MAIN PURPOSE OF THE KAIRUKI AND ICHIGO-MASAKI PARALLELS WAS NOT ‘OMG LOOK AT HOW SIMILAR THE SITUATION HERE IS, CLEARLY THIS IS THE SAME DYNAMIC IN THE PRESENT DAY’, IT WAS ‘YEAH, OK, THESE SIMILAR THINGS HAPPENED IN THE PAST AND IT SUCKED SHIT FOR BOTH OUR PROTAGONISTS, BUT THIS TIME THINGS ARE DIFFERENT.’

That’s the whole point. The parallels in the past sucked SHIT. They were, respectively, each of our protagonists’ worst trauma and memory. But THIS time, by virtue of the fact that things are DIFFERENT, by virtue of the strong bond they forged between the two of them (WITHOUT ANY SORT OF TAINT OR SHADOW FROM THEIR PREVIOUS COUNTERPARTS), they rewrote that story. They overcame their traumas. This dynamic in the current day is healthier and stronger than their parallels in the past, because DESPITE the parallels it is a different dynamic altogether. 

Now, here comes the Isshin-Masaki parallel. Once again, this isn’t a direct character parallel; this is a situational parallel. But unlike the previous two parallels, this has BLATANTLY romantic overtones-- AND IT’S ALSO THE MOST CLOSELY FITTING, MOST DIRECTLY OBVIOUS PARALLEL IN THE ENTIRE MANGA. It’s almost a rehash, not a parallel. IDENTICAL SITUATIONS, IDENTICAL STORIES, GENDERS REVERSED, AND THIS ONE IS A LOVE STORY.  Once again, this isn’t dwelled on by the characters in the manga themselves, but to us readers, it’s a HUGE wink-wink nudge-nudge. ‘Look, here’s a love story that looks identical to their initial story. Only, oh, wait, it kinda ended in tragedy. We know these two have a tendency of rewriting their old parallels for the better - don’t you wonder what they’ll do with THIS parallel?’ 

(the answer is, rewrite it better together. because that’s what they did with their other parallels. but that’s the furthest thing from we got in the end.) 

And now, given all this so far: consider the endgame ships(ok, ONE endgame ship, only because Renji was so irrelevant to the overarching plot that he never got any meaningful parallel anywhere), which seem determined to mirror all these parallels DIRECTLY, and copy them as much as possible, rather than rewriting them or creating any difference from them. The biggest attempt I noticed to try and ‘justify’ ichigo -> orihime after the ending, by both the fandom and the official franchise, was by playing up orihime=masaki as much as possible. Her appearance, for one; the way yuzu comments that she reminds her of mom and wants to be closer to her for that reason. As the fans like to bring up, their appearance. Their bubbly personality? Her hairstyle in the final chapter, etc, etc. But the whole POINT of ichigo-masaki in relation to ichiruki was RUKIA WAS NOT MASAKI AND THIS WAS GOOD FOR ICHIGO. By trying to play up orihime = masaki, they’re effectively telling ichigo, marry your biggest trauma. stay tied down to it forever. There is nothing different in store for you. You don’t get to override it, to rewrite it. Not a parallel, but a rehash. In a similar vein, Ichigo was given the Isshin haircut, maybe in a weak attempt to justify IH by attaching it to the Isshin-Masaki parallel. Once again: rehash, not parallel. And finally, Rukia is back in the same position as Kairuki regarding Ichigo: married to someone else. Rehash, not parallel. 

The absolute IRONY and TRAGEDY that the whole POINT of all of these intricately built parallels had always been that ichigo and rukia are different to all of these failed parallels in the past, and yet, in the endgame, all they are doing is desperately trying to copy the parallels to a T and attempting to convince everyone that it makes sense because, look, parallel!..... is an insult not only to our intelligence and comprehension as readers but to the narrative itself, since the parallels depended on BOTH to work. There’s several things I’ve mentioned already in Bleach that have, in the endgame, regressed back to or even past their starting point-- the Sokyouku, the Kuchiki Clan, etc. And now, I guess,  we’re adding Ichigo and Rukia to that list - tied down to all their old, doomed parallels, with the emphasis now on how SIMILAR they are to it rather than how DIFFERENT they are to it; and thus with nothing to break them out of the looming tragedy this time. Fuck this ending. 

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**AN/Disclaimer: fdjskdjfh i said this wasn’t a meta and i honestly thought this was gonna be like... 500 words at most. but oops. this is meta. also, this probably isn’t as watertight as i USUALLY like to make my meta, because this whole concept of parallels is something I’m still poking at and refining. So I reserve the right to change my mind about any of my interpretation here. Goodnight. 

[hellsparadiseessays]

Aza Brothers Week - Day 5

I released that essay on r/Jigokuraku back in early July, about one month after the infamous chapter 56 got out. It wasn’t a fun topic to tackle, so as a result I’m leaving the warning I put at the start of the essay before the cut. Because chapter 56 was not ok. Though keep in mind that I’m not mad at UG for it - quite the contrary, his intent is clearly not to make the chapter sexy. However, I heavily suspected the fandom to not find it as obvious because well, we have our own cultural issues. And considering how this essay has been received, and the stuff I noticed even in the Japanese side of the fandom... Well, this essay is in my opinion much needed to explain why chapter 56 is more brutal that it seems. It’s also a good follow-up on yesterday’s post, which stopped at chapter 55. 

Warning : This thread will contain references to rape, so if the topic is sensitive to you, I suggest you avoid reading it. This thread will contain spoilers for the most recent chapters as well, so read it once you’re up to date with the manga to avoid being spoiled and know what I am talking about.

Chapter 56 - A commentary on power and powerlessness

I have been keeping it to myself (and occasionally kinda raged about it on Discord join us) ever since chapter 56 was released, back in April. I’ll be honest with you, despite me joking with everybody else on Discord, that chapter really hit a personal chord and I had a hard time working on this commentary because of that. Let’s just say I regularly had to stop and come back to it a few days later, once I got my head cool again and my brain fully functional – I didn’t want my emotions to get in the way of the analysis.

Here we are now, ready to tackle a difficult topic: the borderline rape of Chôbe by Rien. And I say “borderline”, only because it was Chôbe who successfully did his Chôbe thing. He remains in a dangerous position, one I certainly don’t envy, and one that he himself strongly dislikes.

This commentary will be divided into three parts: firstly, the use of rape as a comedic device in mainstream media and how it trivialises a situation that, in fact, has dramatic consequences. Then, we’ll study Rien has a character through his past and present actions, to establish the nature of his interactions and the way he perceives himself. Finally, we’ll address Chôbe’s reactions while facing danger, and how he deals with his emotions.

I. Rape as a comedic tool

One of the many reasons why this chapter makes me uncomfortable is my personal fear for jokes made about that sort of situation. Why, you may rightfully ask? Because it is very much present in mainstream media, be it in Japan or in Western countries. Considering Reddit is mostly Western-oriented, I chose to pick a reference that focuses on rape in Western media to build my argument around, and I strongly suggest you to watch the video before you continue with this commentary. “Sexual assault of men played for laughs”, by Jonathan McIntosh from the Youtube channel Pop Culture Detective, thoroughly explores the issue through the lens of North American media, which have an area of influence that goes way beyond North America itself – especially with the massive worldwide use of internet. While not all the items of this video fit with the commentary at hand, it nonetheless points out an especially interesting argument: the man who failed to be a man – the one perceived as in control of the situation -, is subjected to various mockeries because it’s fair after all, he wasn’t really being a man when it happened, so he failed as a person.

I think we could even see this issue as a double insult to both men and women with that issue: 1) women can’t be in control because it’s not their role, 2) men who aren’t in control are perceived as emasculated, and thus the jeering is entirely justified because how dare they consider themselves men, right? Basically, this sort of joke is based on a perception of power and who is supposed to hold it. And power is what sexual assault is about. It’s not about lust or provocation. Sexual assault is the act of abusing your power over someone else to the point of robbing them of even their intimacy. This is something that tends to break people, or at least seriously damage them. Yet, this loss of power is something that remains mocked or silenced. And while women are starting to speak up, it’s still rare to see men open up about it. In Jonathan McIntosh’s video, the example of Terry Crew in reaction to the Harvey Weinstein affair and the following #Metoo movement is telling: losing power (what is perceived as such), especially as a man, is still treated in a demeaning manner that should only be mocked or ignored, not as something serious that can affect the victim for years and have a negative effect on their life in general.

Sexual assault of men as comedy is destructive, yet still awfully present in the series and movies we watch – even kids’ shows. Yes, you read it well. Kids’ shows. It gives a certain inclination to joke about rape – especially when it happens to men -, by internalising the issue and not realising how demeaning it actually is. It’s even visible in the most mainstream manga and anime (Naruto’s 1000 years of pain, anyone?) and we’ll play a little game about that: in your comment, I invite you to point out sexual assault as a joke in a manga/anime you know (and maybe enjoy). Keep in mind that I’m not doing that to slam the creations or their authors, it’s just to point out how surprisingly common it can be. I also wish to point out that, in chapter 56 of Jigokuraku, UG didn’t go that way at all. On the contrary, he made it clear that Chôbe was in danger and painfully aware of it throughout the chapter, while Rien... Was being Rien, with his own perception of who he is and the power he holds.

II. Rien: the perception of power

Now that we’ve established the basis about the way sexual assault with men as victims is perceived (especially in the West, a point of view vastly predominant on Reddit), we can start digging on Rien’s case of A God I Am.

As soon as Rien gets his first appearance (chapter 26), his status is made clear: among the boss level characters we’ve seen so far (Ju Fa, Tao Fa, Zhu Jin), he is one cut above and presents himself as the uncontested leader, the patriarch of a family who rules and serves punishment when he deems it necessary. From his point of view, he’s the head of the Tensen family as well as (potentially, it depends on Jofuku being alive of not), the ruler of the island – or the head scientist of the giant laboratory that is Kotaku. It means that Rien isn’t just the most powerful being on the island (though the notion of power can be discussed there, considering the power system used by UG), he also perceives himself as such and demonstrates it with an iron hand: the way he treated Mei before she escaped is good enough as a proof.

Behind his position as the head scientist, he shows a ruthless cruelty and a readiness to not even consider other people as persons. Mei herself, suggested as being one of the first successful experiments by Jofuku – and thus being “family” to Rien -, gets banished, mutilated and used as a living experiment material for the very thing she dared openly call out (the massive use of humans for experimentations). Rien even openly states, in chapter 26, that he’s the only one with the right to punish family members when Ju Fa injures an already weakened Zhu Jin. It gives us an idea of what Rien may mean by “punishment”. Go against his will: die or become an experiment. Disobey him: get severely injured if you’re part of the Tensen family, I heavily suspect death may be the sentence when you don’t have that luxury – and so does Chôbe. Until now, Rien has thus been shown as having a general behaviour that could be qualified of sociopathic: being indifferent towards others to the point of not seeing them as people, dehumanising anybody, using the “we’re family” or “I’ll tell you everything” tactic to try and keep people on his side. Interestingly, between him and Mei, he’s the one who has spend the most time with the other Tensen, and it is visible in their behaviour as well: they show similar sociopathic traits (Mu Dan’s experiments he seemed to find most amusing, Ju Fa qualifying Chôbe of “it” and “livestock”...).

However, no matter how godly Rien thinks he is, he remains surprisingly human and this has been shown to us through the point of view of his latest victim, who managed to do what, I suspect, no other character in the story would have been able to pull off without seriously getting in trouble for it (meaning: die immediately): he momentarily reversed the power dynamic to save his skin for at least a moment.

III. Chôbe’s status as a victim and how he handles it

Since the start, I’ve been claiming left and right that Chôbe is probably too smart for his own good, but it’s not just that. It’s an accumulation of everything that happened to him and his brother. Chôbe is very intimate with the notion of powerlessness. He’s been living it repeatedly since he’s a kid, slowly losing his place in society until he became an outcast. As a consequence, the way he thinks isn’t based on honour or revenge: it’s about survival, first and foremost.

The first time we see him go full survival mode is when he and Toma momentarily run away from the Sôshin that are outnumbering them, to find a better position to fight. In that chapter (chapter 9), we witness another way to survive that is very much Chôbe’s own method – no other character has done it, not even Toma -: instead of resisting a power stronger than his own, he integrates himself into the equation by mirroring the person who’s displaying power over him. By doing so, he creates an impression of kinship he can exploit to his advantage. As a kid, he mutilated himself to the point of losing sight in his right eye and being seriously scarred to “pretty himself up” by looking more like the bandits who were planning to harm Toma and sell them both. Doing so created a strong impression in their captors’ mind, and Chôbe used that impression to claim a place among the bandits – a first step towards claiming his power as an individual capable of thoughts and choices back. By integrating himself like that, he managed to become the leader of the pack, the chief of an entire village of bandits, causing so much trouble it warranted death penalty for him.

This method of mirroring the person holding power over him is visible again during the entirety of chapter 56. This chapter starts with Chôbe being captive, literally tied to a bed and clearly uncomfortable for many reasons: he’s been beaten to the point of passing out after having been treated like a wonderful unicorn (not a person), wakes up in an unknown place, tied to a bed in a peculiar position. By that point, Rien already marked a lot of Creep Points, and Chôbe has a lot of reasons to find the situation disagreeable. But it’s not enough, and Chôbe ends up facing actual blackmail: cooperate or become Tan (which is pretty much like dying, but worse: your life force is sucked out of you while you’re in a fake wonderland. Chôbe had a taste of it and saw what it looked like while he was in the Tan pit, both him and Toma weren’t enthusiastic about the situation and quickly got out of the pit). During the entire chapter, Chôbe weighs his options and stalls time by asking questions and gather more information on his situation to pick the best option to stay alive. It’s a daring move, to do that while facing the local godly being, but Chôbe isn’t stupid and understands having the choice of cooperating means he has value somehow. And to squeeze all the information he needs from Rien, to better weight his option and understand what’s going on on this unnatural island (he realised it’s unnatural in chapter 54), he does what we’ve already seen him do in the aforementioned bandits’ village flashback: he mirrors the one having power over him to gain some agency back through deception.

That’s where something we’ve seen him do a lot happens: he smiles. Mind you, it’s not a genuine smile. Chôbe isn’t really a smiling person, we’ve seen that everytime we’ve got even the smallest hints regarding his true feelings. However, Chôbe uses his mask as a tool for deception and picked this habit as a kid: a grin to the bandits even though his face was heavily injured to convince them of keeping him and his brother, a grin when he steels himself while facing the Sôshin, a smile when he tries to deceive Gabimaru before suddenly attacking him. It’s the vicious, weaponised grin of someone who figured out what to do and where to go, while keeping others’ attention down. He even smiles while sweating when he is nervous, at the end of chapter 55, because he has no idea what’s going on but somehow he’s tied to a bed and someone one-sidedly decided to have sex with him (yes, in case you hadn’t noticed, Rien didn’t care about his consent, because Rien doesn’t see him as a person). However, during chapter 56, we slowly see him integrates himself in the equation again by imitating Rien’s moves to numb his wariness under the guise of complying with the cooperation request. His actions mismatch his thoughts exactly for that purpose: his first thought is about a way to escape, but he realises it may be too dangerous for him. So he renounces - for now - to by himself some time and repeats his mantra, to adapt and figure things out, and gives Rien what he wants because it’s the only viable option for survival.

Since then, qualifying his attitude towards the Tensen of “bad faith” could be an understatement. He may be willing to concede certain things under the threat of death, but he will still have the guts to stand his ground, even while facing a whole group of people who could kill him – and openly threaten to do so. It takes a certain kind of madness to do that sort of thing, and oh, it’s exactly what the bandits said about him when he purposefully injured himself just to prove a point. Chôbe is too smart for his own good, but he still manages to get his agency back when it’s stolen from him, and that’s what makes him incredibly dangerous, even for the Tensen. Even in real life, it takes a certain kind of character to pull that sort of thing off. Still, despite all of his wrong, what happened to Chôbe during his childhood as well as chapter 56 qualifies him as a victim, and UG handled it incredibly well, making it tragic (if not outright nerves wracking, at least in my case) instead of using it as a comedic tool. Thank you for that, UG.

This commentary took me about... At least 10 days just to be worked on, despite the very small amount of references needed for it.

Without giving away too much information, I empathise strongly with Chôbe’s predicament and generally find him very relatable, at a personal level. His tactics are easy to recognise not just because they’ve been made fairly clear by UG, but also because there’s a pattern I know all too well in them. So yeah, that commentary tackled some difficult topics for me, and I had trouble keeping a cool head while writing it. It was a difficult birth, chapter 56 still makes my skin crawl. However, I hope you found this write up informative or entertaining. Don’t hesitate to share your thoughts, answer my little challenge (an example of sexual assault played for laugh in a manga/anime you know), ask questions, scold me for yet another Chôbe rant...

[formal-fauxpines]

Siblings with Benefits Chapter 3

For this chapter @sunshineshipper let me have a lot of input on this chapter to where it is kind of my own thing. Of course I made sure to get her approval and have her give me the okay, so it is main author approved. If it seems different style wise then that is the reason why. Hope it is to your liking and still fits the rest of the story.

P.S. I am re-posting this to this current page as my original page I put this on was hit by the purge. Here it should have no problem.

Free period was always a great relief to Dipper, but  today is especially nice. He would usually  take the time to study. Either keep up with his numerous AP classes or catch up on a few personal projects. However, instead of any of that, it seems it's time for deeper thought about himself and about his sister.

He and his sister have always been close. The occasional rough housing, sharing rooms up until they were teenagers, cuddling up to each other for twin time, awkward sibling hugs. How did that all escalate to becoming siblings with benefits? This seems a bit more than unusually close. But friends who are usually that close have these kind of habits right? Take it to something more physical without letting emotions really get in the way.

None of the friends he knows, though.

They could be different. They could make it work. They've been doing a great job so far.

“Hello. Earth to Dipper,”  A hand waves in his face to catch his attention. He's startled out of all his thoughts.

Dipper looks up and sees Jared waving at him, a puzzled look on his face.

“Hey, man. Thought I lost ya there for a minute. You have some intense focus there. That or something is on your mind to an extreme.”

“A little of both I guess you can say. What brings you down here to the library?”

“Free period. Would like to get started on my homework since I have some catching up to do. You know, with being new here.”

“That’s a smart idea. Welp, pull up a chair there is plenty of room,” Dipper gestures to the table and its seats, offering him a spot in his place of solitude.

They sit together doing their respective homework, looking to one another to discuss answers and help one another. They finish early with the added brain power and spend the rest of the period discussing the latest video games, shows, and other shared interest.

“Yeah, I was getting along pretty well in my game last night before Mabel came back home.”

“Oh, yeah!” Jared perked up at the subject. A few shushes were directed toward him. He hunches down embarrassed for his outburst, “How was that? I take it she is now off the market?”

“Actually, no. Turns out the date was really a study session for the guy for art class since Mabel is an art genius. She was really crushed, so I had to, um… comfort her.”

“Makes sense. You are the good big brother and all. And by the looks of it and what I have been hearing from people, you guys are pretty close.”

“You have no idea, dude.”

“Oh? How so?”

‘Shit! Too much! Gotta draw back!’

“Well, you know…” he shifts in his chair because suddenly the hard wood is more uncomfortable than it was before, “we’re twins so naturally we are close to begin with. Plus with all our adventures we have a lot of great experiences together so makes us a bit closer. I don’t know, even becoming teens we never felt like we drifted apart. In fact, we are just as close as we’ve always been. Also so you should know she is older than me by 5 minutes”

“That’s beautiful man,” Jared smiles and pats him on the back. “I can imagine you are quite protective of her and everything too.”

Dipper thought back to all the times since that first summer in Gravity Falls and times that followed after.

“Yeah, you could say that.”

“But maybe not too protective as to say, oh, I don’t know. Allow a friend to possibly ask her out on a little date?” Jared leaned back and stared at Dipper as if awaiting a response.

Dipper felt caught off guard by this question. He knew the answer to this question was a no due to his sister not wanting romance, but also can’t go so far that he admitted that she was in a sexual relationship with him too.

‘Calm down Dipper. This is an easy question. Give him the straight answer and it will be fine. He will understand.’

“Well,” Dipper rubbed the back of his neck. “While I was comforting her, she kind of opened up about her whole romance tepockle and how she is feeling about it now. Aaaannnddd, she really isn’t looking for a romantic interest right now. Kind of taking a break from the whole subject.”

“Okay, that’s cool. I can respect that decision. Will not ask her out then… But say she does at some point later on is looking to date. Would, you know, it be alright iiiiffffff…?”

“If you ask her out?” Dipper finishes for him. “I don't see why not. But that is up to her of course.”

“Oh, psshh, of course man. Got to just use the old charm and let her decide for herself.” Jared bobbed his head as he fired off a set of finger guns toward Dipper.

“Dang, dude. And I thought I was a dork.”

“Come on man, we are both denizens of dork-dom.” Jared held out his fist to Dipper who met it with his own. They shared a quiet chuckle together hoping not to be too loud to warrant a ‘shh’.

“Oh yeah, just remembered,” Jared said before rummaging through his backpack. “Since we talked about it yesterday I figured you would be interested in this game.” Jared pulls out a game from his pack and hands it to Dipper.

“No way, I saw some great reviews on this. Look forward to trying it out. You sure this is okay?”

“Yeah man, say it’s a thanks for being so awesome to me as a new guy.”

“No problem man, I know it can be hard.”

**************************************************

At the end of the school day, Dipper met up with Mabel as per usual as Jared tagged along to chat with Dipper,  and get more time with Mabel. They seemed to get along well for having just met, but then again that was Mabel’s specialty. Not too long after Jared parted ways from the twins to head to his home.

“That guy is pretty cool, much like my bro bro, in a very dorky way.”

“Yeah, he’s pretty cool. Lent me a new video game today.”

“Ah man. I had plans for us tonight Dipster. Now you’re just gonna be a poophead and want to play that.”

“Sorry Mabel. Just kind of popped up. Plus I been looking forward to playing this one. Just haven’t had the money as of late.”

“Well it was going to be a nice surprise, but now we will never know.”

“Come on Mabel you can tell me. Maybe it will change my mind.”

“If that’s what you think, then you have fundamentally misunderstood what a surprise is oh brother of mine. Shame on you.”

“Okay, okay. Fair enough.”

“Hmm. How about this. I’ll race you home and I will tell you what it is then.”

“Wait, a race? Mabel you always beat me at those.”

“Only way Dipper. Guess it will stay a secret forever.”

“Okay fine, deal”

“Allllllrrrriiiggghhhtt… READYSETGO!!!” With a last rapidly made statement Mabel bolted toward home leaving Dipper in the dust.

“Of course she would.” Dipper took off after her in the hopes to keep up, yet he knew it was a futile effort. Without the adrenaline he usually gets in a monster encounter, Dipper’s athleticism was much to be desired.

‘Where did she get this energy from. It was just this morning that she shook off a hangover and we did it twice. How is she not dead tired?’

Dipper shook off his thoughts as he got into a good pace, catching up with his sister enough. Unfortunately for him the race was over as she bolted through the door of their house while he just reached the front yard. Out of breath, he stumbled into the living room where Mabel was doing her victory dance.

“ALPHA TWIN! ALPHA TWIN!” She chanted rhythmically though her breaths.

“Alright Mabel you won. I guess you can keep your secret then.”

“Well I never said I wouldn’t tell you if I won. I just said you had to race me.”

“Wait, why make it a competition if you were just going to do it anyways?”

“Well, for one it was fun. Two, got to show I am Alpha Twin still. And three, I wanted to get home as quick as possible without spoiling the surprise.”

“Danm Mabel,”Dipper manages to get out after finally catching his breath. “What the heck is the surprise then?”

“Ooohhh, just this.”

Just as Dipper catches his breath, he finds it snatched away again as Mabel removes her sweater and shirt revealing her bra and bare skin.

“Mabel! What the hell are you doing?!”

“Relax bro-bro,” she said as she sauntered over to lay a kiss upon him, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Turns out mom and dad have another late night at work and won’t be back for some time. So that means we have another evening to ourselves.

She gives another kiss to her brother who is slightly caught off guard still by his sisters boldness and the news she lays upon him. Mabel releases her grip and takes a few steps back leaving him with a bewildered expression on his face.

“Then again you do have that new video game you wanted to try, so maybe we don’t have to do it tonight. We’ll just have to wait for another opportunity for the parents to be gone for an explicitly long period of time. Oh well.”

With that statement, Mabel begins walking up the stairs. Upon reaching the top, she decides to remove her skirt revealing a lace purple thong.

“I’ll be relaxing in my room if you want to join me Sir Dippingsauce.” She gives him a wink and sauntered off to her room.’

Without even thinking, Dipper dropped the game and his bag on the floor where he stood, bolted up the stairs, grabbed a few condoms from his room, and darted into Mabel’s room, locking the door behind him.

Here she laid before him. Body the epitome of perfection; lythe form, perky breasts, beautiful face, eyes that were lipid pools that were the gateway to the soul. A body so incredibly hot that it was in the middle of the tundra and he wouldn’t even notice the cold. Legs that go on forever, curves that could be put on graphing paper and the equation would be called perfection. His brain was short circuiting over the fact that he is about to have such an intimate time with this perfect creature.

A soft moan snaps Dipper out of the rollercoaster ride his brain was taking him. Apparently, Mabel was getting bored waiting for him. The sight he was treated to now had his mind, and loins, at full attention that no amount of worry less than getting caught, or the end of the world could distract him from.

Her hands exploring the contours of her body was a breathtaking sight. The way she ran them over her form was nothing less than an elegant display of what her craft worthy hands could do. As they explore, she focused more on the most pleasurable areas of her anatomy. Caressing and fondling, always staying outside her lingerie, as if saving the more direct touches for him. Her eyes bored in to him as she touched herself, half lidded she says “You can look, but aren’t you going to touch?”

Dipper walks over to her, trying to play cool and failing to hide his anticipation, placing the condoms on her nightstand. He undresses down to his boxers before settling down next to her. She scoots over to make more room for him, keeping eye contact the whole time.

“I-is it alright if I touch you?” he asks.

She nods, biting her lower lip.

Dipper places his hand along her stomach gently caressing her milky smooth skin. She lets out a slight moan and giggle. He notes the reaction and begins to slide his hand lower making it over her hips and down to her thighs. As he lets his hands explore her lithe figure, he moves in to kiss her. It’s slow and intimate. Lips press gently to one another as tongues reach out to meet and entwine. All the while his hand runs over her giving her goosebumps.

She grew more eager by the minute as the kisses grew more passionate and desperate for his affection. Eventually she grabs his hand and places it between her legs. Dipper’s stunned by her sudden boldness.

Is this really his sister?  The same person who just last night was having difficulty just staring at him while naked, is now making the next move?

His mind is pulled out from its concerns as a desperate whimper and a bucking of her hips begs him for more. Dipper could think about this all later. For now he has a job to do. Refocusing he runs his fingers back and forth over her panties. He notices how wet she has gotten just feeling the outside. He could hardly believe any of this was his doing.

As he continues to caress her moistened sex, he breaks the kiss and moves to her neck, laying a series of kisses on her pulse, sending shivers through her body. He feels her arm move and reach down to grab hold of his manhood. It breaks his concentration enough to where he has to look up and see her face and stare into her eyes.

Eyes glazed over with lust and desperation, she’s practically begging for more of him.

“Dipper? I think I'm ready for it now,” she moans in a sultry voice.

As soon as he nods, she shifts her body. Grabbing his shoulders, she pins him to the bed to straddle him. Eyes now wide and shaken from the euphoric haze that clouded his mind earlier.

‘Okay, seriously. Where did all this come from?”

His mind is plunged into the haze again as she rocks her hips, gliding herself over his bulge. Even through two layers of cloth, he can tell how wet she had become. She continues rubbing herself along his clothed shaft. She pants and moans with pleasure. Every so often she would dip down and kiss along his neck and ear shuddering out inaudible words to him. After teasing him enough, she lifts her head to stare into his eyes. Even through the fog in his head, he can see the hunger she has for him. Before he could say anything about it, she plants such a passionate kiss to him that it put all they had shared to shame. Her kiss gives off a white hot intensity and he couldn’t believe it. Particularly the fact that he's the one receiving it.

She lifts herself up enough to break the kiss, “Are you ready, Dipper?”

“Y-yeah,” is all he can let out. He used to be the stable one between the two of them during these newly found sensual sessions, but now it's her turn, and he’s just fine with that. He wants her to be more comfortable with all of this after all, and it seems like she's more so than expected.

Mabel moves herself down, positioning herself on his thighs. She reaches over to the condoms and tears one of the squares off. She lifts herself enough to pull down her thong revealing to Dipper her moist slit. As soon as she’s done she focuses on him, removing his plaid boxers in one felled swoop letting his cock finally stand at full attention.

The look of admiration in her eyes sends Dipper’s heart into high gear, clearly visible with how his member twitches. Removing the latex sheath from it’s package, she grasps his member with her hand, giving it a few light strokes to tease him. It works well as he moans in surprise, anguish, and pleasure. Satisfied with her deed, she places the ring of rubber to his head and rolls it down the shaft. How the hell she learned to do it so smoothly would be added to is piling list of questions. For now he doesn't dare interrupt her flow.

She positions herself above his shaft once more, grabbing it to better guide it into her. Before she lowers herself, she gives a nod to Dipper who nods back. With that, she begins her slow descent, inching every bit of him into her. It may have been their third time, but it felt just as amazing as the first.

As she manages to slide all the way to meet his pelvis, she grinds into him, feeling him reach the deepest parts of her from this new angle. It’s different for him not having the control like before. Perhaps it was for the best though, letting his sister find her rhythm since he already found his. Especially when she hits the right spot and cries out his name, he has no complaints about being bottom this time.

She goes through varying motions and readjusts herself while on top of him. From gyrating her hips while sitting upright to getting close to him and lifting herself up and down on his shaft while kissing him all over. He returns the favor the best he can by reaching up and massaging her breasts or sucking upon them given the opportunity. Whatever he thought he could do best and provide her more pleasure.

Eventually they settle into a rhythm that works best for both of them. Mabel riding Dipper with gentle thrusts on his part to reach the right spots. All while he grabs her backside, helping her in the motions while still letting her keep control.  Seeing her in this position, having this much control over him, drove him all the more wild.

After a few more minutes of pleasure, Dipper felt the coil in his core tighten as Mabel’s schlick walls begin to grip more around him, feeding into his pleasure. He isn't going to last much longer.

“M-Mabel, I’m,” he groans through labored breaths, “I’m not going to last much longer.”

With breaths equally as sparse, “It’s okay, Dipper. Just give it to me. Don’t hold back.”

With those words uttered, in the way she did, opened the floodgates for him. He picked up the pace, tightened his grip, and mustered all the strength he had left to thrust into her. Mabel must have had the same thoughts as she pushed into his shoulders more, and ground her hips into his to meet his motions at full force. He would say that if they were having a competition, she was winning.

His suspicions were right as she bucks her hips desperately, repeating his name and cursing between her moans. That did it for him as he gives one final thrust lifting them both off the bed. The force sends her forward, taking advantage of it she leans in for a last passionate kiss as she hums her moans into his mouth. The tight coil finally lets loose.

As he cums, he holds her tightly to him, not wanting to let go.  She continues to buck her hips onto him as to squeeze every last bit out. It didn’t matter as they were protected, but he appreciates the motions, giving him a pleasure that he didn’t experience the other times given his immediate removal from her nethers.

‘Perhaps I can hand over the reigns more often to her,’

The room was filled with sounds of heavy breaths and a mist of pure euphoria. Mabel dismounts her brother slowly, his once turgid phallus gradually growing flaccid. She lays at his side, propped up on her shoulder looking down upon him, a smug grin on her face.

“So?” She asks

“So?” He replies, quirking an eyebrow at her.

“What did you think of that?”

“It was amazing Mabel. Like, I have no idea where all that came from.”

“I can ask you the same with where you learned any of what you did? I do know, however where you came from.” she says reaching down to stroke the underside of his member, now laying against his stomach. He shudders with how sensitive he is now and proceeds to swat her hand away. She giggles at his reaction and leans in to kiss his cheek to apologize.

“Sorry Dip-dop, but I have to maintain whole Alpha Twin title.”

“Come on, Mabel we’ve been over this a thousand times. You’re only 5 minutes older than me,” he shifts his eyes away from her, “But if that’s what you do, then I don’t mind you being the Alpha Twin more often.”

“But of course. Always happy to assert my role,” She leans down to peck him on the lips and readjusts herself to cuddle into him again. He wasn’t expecting to cuddle so much for it just being about the sex. He didn’t mind though. Now it was just closer than usual twin time.

After about 20 minutes of cuddling, talking about random stuff, and an impromptu naked tickle battle, the twins decide to get dressed and move down stairs to work on homework. They set themselves up with drinks, snacks, and order a pizza as they crank through their class work. However, upon picking up his backpack Dipper notices the game that Jared lent him, and subsequently the conversation that they had.

“Oh, yeah. Hey, Mabel. I got something to talk to you about.”

“What up, Bro-migo?”

“Well, I was talking to Jared today and he was asking me about you and your whole bad date thing.”

“Yeah? What did he want to know?”

“Just about how it went and if your availability changed.”

“Oh? What did you say?”

“Just that after all that stuff last night you weren’t looking for anything right now.”

“After all that stuff, huh? Wow, Dip, didn’t think you had it in you to tell someone else of our sexy-times.”

“What?! Wait… no, I meant…”

“Relax bro-bro. Just messing with you. I know you wouldn’t tell anyone. But thanks for telling him that.”

“Well that wasn’t all actually.”

“Oh?”

“Well, he also asked when the time came, when you were ready to date again, if it was alright with me if he dated you. Being your brother in all, I guess he wanted permission. And I told him it was okay.”

��Wow, that was old fashioned. So, you are okay with letting me date again with all this?”

“Yeah, of course. I mean, I said yes so that I wouldn’t come off as possessive or anything. Don’t need people thinking I want my sister all to myself all of a sudden. But also, we agreed on the fact that either of us could end this for any reason, and that includes dating. So if you ever want to date again, I won’t hold you back.”

“Aw, that’s so sweet Dipper.” With that she went up to him for a hug and kiss, “Thanks for looking out for me. As far as I can see it I won’t be dating for a bit now that we have this whole no fuss, no muss thing. It's so much easier than actual dating.”

“No problem, Mabel. Just figured you should know is all,” he rubs the back of his neck, “Welp, let’s knock out this homework.”

After finishing their work, the pizza guy arrives with their food and they resumed normal twin time.

**************************************************

The next day at school Dipper runs into Jared again at the library during  his free period.

“Hey, Dipper,” he hears Jared speak and looks up from his book just in time to see him walking up.

“Hey, what's up?”

Jared tosses his book bag to the floor and sits in the chair next to his, “Did you get to play that video game I gave you yesterday?”

‘Oh, uh, no. I was busy,” he taps his fingers against the table.

“Okay. Doing what?”

‘My sister.’

No, he definitely couldn't say that, “Uhhhhhh… Well you know just homework and stuff. Plus hanging out with Mabel. She is always very insistent on us spending time together, you know. Graduation soon and all that jazz.”

“Gotcha, gotcha. Maybe I can come over tonight and we can hang out and play it. Maybe your sister won’t mind. After all she can’t hog all of you, right?”

“Um, I’ll ask. I’m sure she will be cool with it.”

Dipper pulls out his phone and sends Mabel a text message. She responds in kind with a m yes and a series of cute emojis. She also sends him a text of a winky face, peach, and banana and the note ‘Another time then.’ He blushes and shifts in his seat before deleting it and putting his phone away.

“She says it’s cool.”

“Awesome, can’t wait to see your reaction to the game.”

**************************************************

After getting back to his house, Dipper shows Jared around and up to his room with his game system. They settle in and pop the game in. Dipper has to admit that he's definitely amazed by how well the game plays compared to what he was expecting. The hype was real.

“Hey, Dip,” Jared uses his controller to pause the game and it catches Dipper's attention, “Mind if I get a soda from the kitchen?”

“Sure, no problem. ”

Dipper keeps playing and upon reaching a point where he can stop, he realizes Jared has been gone for a bit longer than expected. He exits out to the home screen and gets up to check on him.

Going down stairs he hears a little bit of chit chat going on. Jared and Mabel are the only ones home by his guess, so he figures it’s them. He hears a laugh that was unmistakably Mabel’s. However, her laugh that usually brings him such joy, this time brings a small lurch in his stomach. Was it because it was brought on by someone else? It shouldn’t be that way. It was still Mabel after all, his sister. And it wasn’t like she was his. So why was he feeling this way?

[warbirdwrites]

NaNoWriMo 2019: come at me, bro!

After winning NaNoWriMo 2018 in under 21 days, I’m going to have another crack at it this year. I discovered a lot my first time around, and I’ve grown immensely as a writer - even in a year. So this post is mainly about what I’m writing, what served me well last year and how this year is going to be different. I hope this post shows a little solidarity with those of you out there who are also participating! Best of luck, writers! 

Telling you what I’m writing is probably a good place to start, right? I make no qualms about being a fanfiction writer - it’s a great way to improve your writing by writing about things you’re passionate about. So I’m writing fanfiction again this year. But rather than begin a series specifically for NaNoWriMo like I did last year, I’m going to be finishing two series’ I abandoned earlier this year. They’re both Queen fics - one is called ‘Rumours’, and the other is ‘Nothing Serious.’ I have trouble finishing fics, even the ones that people adore; so a month of flat-out writing might be the thing I need to finish these two fun, exciting stories. I don’t care if I fail to reach 50,000 words this time around; the marker for me ‘winning’ this year is to have two completed series’.

On to the ‘how’ I’m going to get there - I’ll be carrying something I learned last year into this new challenge. No matter how time poor I am, I always have time to write. If I can write 700 words in 15 minutes and I can complete three 15-minute sprints in a day (morning, lunch and evening), I’ll have 2,100 words right there. Over 30 days that equates to 63,000 words. You see what I’m getting at, here? Word sprints are so effective in bumping up word counts. And they make you feel more productive, and when you feel productive, you naturally want to write more.

That’s the physical act of writing covered, but a big part of participating in NaNoWriMo is the planning stage. I tend to work best with a clear plan. Things fall to shit if I don’t have that. This year, I’ve been very spoiled; I’m not working on a story from scratch. I know the stories and characters I’m writing about, and I have a fair idea of where I’d like it to go because I’ve worked on these stories already. I’ll go into more detail about how I’m outlining the remaining chapters of ‘Rumours’ and ‘Nothing Serious’ in another post, but all I’ve really had to do is put together a couple of documents with a bit of basic narrative structure. I don’t know if I’m going to even need them. However, I do see the merit of writing it all down beforehand so that it’s in my brain somewhere and I don’t have to waste time coming up with something to write when I have to write.

Anyway, short and sweet. I’ll be back next weekend to tell you about my workflow when I write and how it’s evolved a little bit, as well as a few musings about finally moving to the Copywriting team at my day job. Have a great day, folks!

(P.S: If you’d like to follow my Queen - on which I’m far more active - it’s @mypassionfortrash)

[dogbearinggifts]

Elegy, Part Seven

A/N: Well….it looks like my Not-Fun Announcement was a false alarm, because here’s the next chapter. On time. No, I don’t know how I did it, either, though all of the support you guys showed me definitely had something to do with it.

This is Part Seven of a series, based on an idea by @daughterofthemoon99, where Imelda visits the Land of the Dead in her lifetime. If you want to read from the beginning, previous chapters are here: 

Part One   Part Two   Part Three   Part Four   Part Five   Part Six

The whole fic is also available on AO3.

******

The authorities would likely have questions. Ernesto didn’t know what form those questions would take, but since Imelda had come dangerously close to spilling his every secret before flouncing out, he knew he would like them even less than they’d like the answers.

There was a chance, of course, that he could steer the conversation in a more favorable direction. Cause the police to turn their attention from him and onto Imelda or—better yet—Héctor. But the things she’d so casually brought out to aid her in their argument still stormed through his head, and he needed time to get his thoughts in order.

The air outside the cubicle was only slightly cooler than the air within it, but far less stifling. Perhaps that was due to its size, but more likely to Imelda’s presence. Her anger had a way of filling a room, heating the air and making you long for the peace and sanity of a drunken brawl.

Dios mio, how had Héctor lived with that woman?

He glanced to one side, then to the other, making the movement appear far more nonchalant than he felt. Lines of dead stretched out on either side; those for Departures had thinned somewhat, but only in a relative sense. He had stayed in cities, performed for crowds, and the sheer number of people in the Land of the Dead still left him reeling. Were he anyone else, he perhaps could have melted into the crowd and left for his mansion without causing a stir.

The last time he’d wanted to escape notice, he’d just watched Héctor hit the cobblestone face-first.

His instincts screamed for him to walk straight past the same border agent who had sent Imelda into a fury, but that woman had stirred enough suspicion around him already. He didn’t need to add another incident.

“Perdón,” he said, and the suited man’s attention snapped toward him. He offered an apologetic smile. “You wouldn’t haven seen where la Señora Rivera went, would you?”

“She went to the station,” the man said, casting a glare at the border agent. “And we’re lucky she didn’t slip our notice entirely, considering we just let her walk out the door.”

Ernesto had not yet accustomed himself to all the peculiarities of death and the Land of the Dead, but his ability to spot an attractive face had required surprisingly little adjustment. Seeing the border agent’s face downcast and anxious drew Ernesto’s mouth into a reassuring smile.

“No te preocupes,” he said. “She could be rather…”

“Intimidating?” the border agent offered.

“I was going to say ‘slightly less pleasant than a cholla on her good days,’ but that’ll do.”  

The border agent smiled, snorted a laugh, but her supervisor—or the supervisor, or someone in charge—gave him a flat look.

“You didn’t happen to learn anything about that curse while you spoke to her, did you?”

“Unfortunately, no. I doubt she knows any more than I do.”

For long seconds, Ernesto thought the supervisor might pick at those words with more questions. What did you talk about? We figured you knew her, you didn’t say anything about her husband. You spent all that time with her and didn’t manage to find out what could help send her home? But before he could think of a passable answer to any of those unspoken questions, the supervisor sighed and turned away.

Ernesto wanted to leave right then, but he still had to feign calm, so he gave the border agent another smile and a wink before turning to go.

The station. Ernesto had little idea what, exactly, went on at that place, or any number of other places across the city. He’d appeared there at the moment of his death, and spent a while—he wasn’t sure how long and wasn’t inclined to ask—lying unconscious as his bones knit themselves back together, repairing the myriad breaks and fractures that bell had graciously gifted to him. Following that introduction to the Arrivals area, he wasn’t keen on returning unless he had no choice.

If there was something at the station that would lead her toward the truth, Imelda would have gone in search of it.

The thought made Ernesto want to run for the station and drag her back to the bridge, force her to stay put until one of those photo agents finally did the job they were paid to do. But even if such a plan wouldn’t raise every alarm in the mind of every agent and clerk and police officer in the Land of the Dead, he knew it would backfire once Imelda was brought into the equation. Dragging her back would only entice her to flee again. Pulling her away from whatever information she’d gone to find would only cause her to redouble her efforts to find it.  

There was a chance, of course, that whatever the Department of Family Reunions had regarding Héctor’s death would be withheld from her. Knowing Imelda, she would demand it be given to her anyway, but if all her efforts ended at a stone wall or a dead end, Ernesto would need only to ensure she made it back to the Land of the Living before sunrise.  

But if not….

His driver had been instructed to wait near the station when he’d first left to retrieve his guitar. With no reason to leave the curb or the vehicle itself, he would have remained at his post long past the expected time of return—all night, if needed. Sure enough, the vehicle waited precisely where he’d left it. An older model, still absent the coat of white paint he thought it needed, but the sight was still unusual enough that passersby slowed their pace or stopped altogether to gawk. Ernesto spared them a wave and a smile as he climbed in.

His driver was a man named Alonzo, dead five years prior to the bell incident, though he’d been a fan since 1934. Some employers might not have considered that information relevant, but Ernesto thought it might be useful to remember.

“Anything to report?” Ernesto asked as Alonzo pulled away from the curb.

“Aside from the usual gawkers and a few niños who wanted to see the inside?” Alonzo shook his head. “Everyone’s eager to get to the bridge.”

Or from it, Ernesto thought as the limo crept down the street. Automobiles were far more common than they were in places like Santa Cecilia, but still enough of a rarity that Alonzo needed to negotiate more foot traffic than anything else.

“Isn’t there a side street you can take?”

“Gotta get off this street first.”

Ernesto gazed out the window, watching a succession of faces pass slowly enough for him to make out skull markings. “I might as well have walked,” he muttered.

Alonzo wasn’t paid to argue.

True to his word, they made better progress upon exiting the street nearest the bridge, and were soon moving along at a more reasonable pace. Not as rapid as Ernesto would have liked, but the streets were narrow, the turns were sharp, and wrecking the limousine would have slowed their progress even more. Soon, but not soon enough, the limo was parked and he took the walkway up to his mansion.

Upon arrival, he’d found no shortage of men willing to design and build a home catered to his specifications. An ivory tower, stretching up to the sky, drawing every eye in the city like a beacon. It would be a massive undertaking—had been a massive undertaking—but he’d been assured that things were coming along far more quickly than they might have for similar projects.

None of that made the sight of gaping holes where walls should have been, of paint cans and tarpaulins and tools left on bare floors, any less aggravating.

But this was no time to complain about paid carpenters and masons wheedling their way into a holiday off. The trip from the bridge had consumed enough time already, and he knew where Raúl would be.

A clatter of claws on tile floors sounded around the corner. Despite it all, despite Imelda and Héctor and the mess waiting just outside his walls, Ernesto found himself smiling.

In seconds, his alebrijes were dancing at his feet, pawing at his ankles and standing on hind legs in a bid for attention. He was already on the floor when Raúl entered moments later.

To Ernesto’s knowledge, Raúl had never been more than a casual fan. Not the sort who dreamed of going to every show, who bought two of every record (one for playing, one for collecting) and treasured every scrap of news. He’d enjoyed the music, but from what Ernesto had gathered, he had never seen the man behind it as anything more than that.

He hadn’t learned about Héctor. No one had been privileged to hear that secret, not even his alebrijes. Yet when Héctor had first arrived at the mansion looking for time to talk, Raúl had been the first to recognize impending disaster and lead the rest of Ernesto’s recently hired security team to react with enough force to teach even the densest man or woman an unforgettable lesson. 

Héctor had not returned, or if he had, he had done it and kept his distance. And since then, without any sort of compensation or instruction, Raúl had been the one to gather rumors and report them back to his employer. No further questions. No attempts to learn more than he’d already gathered. Héctor was trouble and must be kept at bay. That was all he needed.

“No guitar?”

“No.”

Raúl moved forward and sat on the floor as well. “Rivera hasn’t shown his face since you left.”

“I nearly ran into him at the bridge.”

“He didn’t cross this year, did he?”

Ernesto sighed. Perhaps the story would make sense with some of the relevant details removed; perhaps it wouldn’t. “You heard of the living woman who was cursed?”

“I have now.”

“She’s Héctor’s wife. Or was, rather. She didn’t know she’d been a widow until tonight.”  

If that bit of information nudged Raúl closer to the truth behind them, he showed no surprise. No judgment, either. “And she has questions.”

“Sí,” Ernesto said, remembering her anger—held in reserve only for lack of information. “She has questions.”

“And I assume she can’t go home.”

“Not without a blessing.” An alebrije nudged her way underneath Ernesto’s arm, climbing onto his lap and drawing a small smile. “They believe a family blessing might do it, but no one is certain.”

Raúl scratched another alebrije behind the ears as he mulled that over. “It sounds to me like sending her home is the best solution. Get those questions away from you.”

“Not if she finds them at the station.”

“Is that where she went?”

Ernesto nodded. Raúl seemed to prefer to keep his thoughts close, and Ernesto could not immediately deduce anything from that guarded expression.

“She won’t live forever, Señor de la Cruz.”

He knew that. Everyone died, some sooner and others later. Sending Imelda back would remove her from the immediate vicinity of those questions she’d gone off to answer; she might find different, less conclusive answers in the Land of the Living, but within a few years or a few decades, she would be back among the dead—and she would bring those questions with her. But the longer she stayed here, the greater the risk she’d learn the whole truth.

And Imelda would not keep such an incendiary secret to herself. She’d burn his entire legacy to the ground with a smile on her face.

For a moment, just a moment, he had a vision of her storming up to the station, songbook in hand and Héctor in tow. “This book,” she would say, “belonged to my husband, who wrote Ernesto de la Cruz’s songs. Yet he was never credited for them. Would you like to know why?”

They might not believe her at first, but she wouldn’t leave until they did. Once she was there, she would make herself heard—and she would do it until they listened.

“You’ve spent more time at the shanties than I have,” Ernesto said.

Raúl nodded. It had never officially become part of his duties, but he’d taken it upon himself when he’d learned where Héctor lived.

“Does he ever talk about his wife?”

He gave a small, amused smile. “Often enough that a few no longer speak to him.”  

Ernesto lifted the alebrije and stood, walking toward one of the unfinished areas of the mansion. The work had stopped halfway through a corridor, and the only lights that functioned were those at the mouth of the hallway. He could make out shapes—a long flat something that might have been a saw, a round something that resembled a paint can.

Killing Héctor had begun as an idea, a thought that took root somewhere between a particularly vicious quarrel and yet another morning spent watching him write what had to be his hundredth letter home, listening to him grumble. He hadn’t acted on it immediately. The idea had needed testing—first, through rumination on the act itself; then, through consideration of the particulars.

The idea forming in his head at that moment was no different.

“Do you think they would call him…obsessed?”

He turned, and saw Raúl frown in thought. “If the right circumstances came along. His wife, here in the Land of the Dead? Most people would kill for an opportunity like that.”

Ernesto nodded, turning back to the darkened corridor. He’d heard Héctor moan about how If only Imelda were here, I’d do anything to have her here with me for just a minute more times than he could count. There was precedent. 

“Of course,” Raúl went on, “once she’s dead, she’s here to stay.”

“Here, yes. Not necessarily where she’ll be found.”

Raúl nodded slowly, thoughtfully. He clearly knew of some places that fit the bill. “And if the police ask him where she is?”

There was a chance that Héctor’s lack of knowledge could work against him. That the police could take his adamant denials as a sign of guilt, his incessant moping and hand-wringing as an overwrought act or evidence of a twisted mind.

But then, there were details about that night. Details that had slipped his notice, but that could be arranged to form a different picture than the one he apparently clung to. And if Imelda were to lead him to reexamine those details, an interrogation could become a piece in a different sort of investigation.

The more he pondered the notion, the less appealing it seemed. Risk permeated every phase, every layer of the plan, but aside from that, it seemed so brutal. So much harsher, so much more aggressive, than giving his friend a poisoned drink.

Then he thought of Imelda, demanding knowledge he could only deny having. Storming out of the cubicle and toward a place that would, in all likelihood, hold the answers she sought. Not all of them, but enough to know where to find more.

Ernesto drew his hand into a fist. She’d done it. Driven him to it. Had she stayed in one place, had she calmly waited for rescue like a sensible woman would have, she could have had it.

But she had left him no choice.

“They can’t ask him if there’s no one to ask.”

********

A/N: Enjoying this fic? Read on to Part Eight.