#the most competent person in the world is still making a thousand of these mistakes all the time

[rxttenfish]

i do understand why this works for me and not necessarily for everyone

(a major theme of my work is that, in the question of whether people are inherently good or inherently bad, the only true answer is that we are inherently silly and kinda stupid, including all the way down to most evils not being done with grand motives in mind, but because of simple human incompetence or pettiness or not-seeing-the-forest-for-the-trees, but that just as often most acts of good have no grander motivation either, its just a matter of realizing this, realizing your capacity for both, and watching yourself to try and limit your harm as best you can)

but i do think its fun to just have mistakes in stories be mistakes. like. the character themselves just kinda fucked up that one moment, or should have known better, but just. didn't realize. or only realizes it with the blessing of afterthought. like people just DO shit that would get dinged as plotholes all the time, constantly, and i think its very weird to act like characters acting like people in a thousand minor ways is something that flat out shouldn't exist in fiction.

[emotionallyits2009]

deancas fic rec list!

hello everyone! happy christmas to those who celebrate it, my gift to you is my fic rec list that i said i would make like a month ago. the only thing it is organized by is canonverse vs alternate universe. tried to cover a variety of subjects but there are in particular many fics of the genre “postcanon where cas is human and he and dean live together and slowly finally get their shit together” because i know what i’m about, son. HOPE U ENJOY. and if you wanna talk about any of them or rec me other fics please do. :) 

Canonverse:

where the weeds take root by deathbanjo, 30k, explicit “Are you happy? Y’know. Just—being here,” Dean says, gesturing to the yard with his beer bottle. “Being with—I mean, you used to fight in celestial wars and—and save the world. Now you’re growing vegetables and talking about chickens.” There are many fics set in a post-canon universe where Cas is human and he and Dean live together and slowly fall into a relationship. Imo this one is the best of the best of that genre. This was one of the first fics I read back in July when I was getting Back Into Supernatural where I was like oh fuck I’m like in this. Dean builds Cas planters and bookshelves and a chicken coop and they fight and work through it.

Cuckoo And Nest by komodobits, 10k, explicit For a long time, Castiel thought that every earthly possession other than the immediately necessary was excess to requirement. But Dean – Dean who named his car, who keeps a photograph of his mother in his wallet, some thirty-plus years after her death, who still has the crumpled ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign with a sleeping pelican emblazoned on it from the Microtel outside of Roanoke where he first kissed Castiel, clumsy and unsure, under the unsteady fluorescence of an exhausted bathroom bulb – is sentimental. It puzzles Castiel, where Dean draws the line between what is meaningful and what it is worthless. Really Gets the dynamic of Cas doesn’t think Dean wants him to stay/Dean thinks Cas will leave the first chance he gets. Also a nice example of Cas thinking he’s not wanted if he’s not useful/powerful and being told otherwise. Another all-time fave!

lonely hearts by outphastthemoat, 4.5k, gen He thinks he might give up having his own anything just to be able to step foot inside the room next door and sit on the edge of Dean’s bed instead. This one is for the CAS GIRLS who know what LONELINESS feels like.

Helionneiros by aeli_kindara, 24.2k, mature In which Dean visits his mother, and Claire takes Cas on a hunt. I’m always on the lookout for more fic with Claire and Jack. Jack doesn’t show up until the end here but the relationship between Cas and Claire is really nice.

Crawl by aeriallon, 11k, explicit It’s been almost four years since Castiel left Kansas; he'd eventually settled in an island town where he has a job, a house, and a life without the Winchesters. Every winter, Dean drives down to the coast to see him. Another fic where Cas is human but in this one he took some time for himself and got some distance from the Winchesters! He gets to be competent and weird as a human and we love that for him. I must warn you all that this fic contains one use of the phrase “making love” which would normally put me right off but it’s still worth reading. The first of a three-part series.

home where you hold me by microcomets, 1.6k, gen Cas and Dean, in the moments between their battles, ache for quiet spaces. Technically this is a coda to 10x20 but you don’t need the episode for context. Short and very sweet.

Build a Home by domesticadventures, 20.1k, teen After they save the world, Dean expects Cas to come back to the bunker with them. He doesn’t. This one is so cute it’s like what if once they were done saving the world Sam and Dean actually invited other hunters to move into the bunker with them. Obviously Dean wants that to include Cas but doesn’t know how to use his words.

the taste of gravel in the mouth by deathbanjo, 22.4k, explicit This is what Cas gave up Heaven for: greasy diner food, shitty motel rooms with even shittier cable, long car rides spent in complete silence except for the same six tapes playing over and over again, and a burnt-out husk of a man who can barely hold a conversation anymore. Angst fic! They go on a road trip and Dean is severely fucked up post-Mark of Cain.

Unknown Quantities by xylodemon, 8.6k, explicit No one ever tells Dean anything. Another nice getting-together fic.

Creature of Habit by trinityofone, 5.2k, teen The more you love someone, the more you want to kill them. Or: How Cas developed some bad habits, and Dean coped surprisingly well. This one is ancient by destiel standards (written during season 5) but it manages to nail the married couple vibes they give off in later seasons. Cas is a bitch and Dean likes him so much. <3

The (Mostly Accidental) Courtship of Dean Winchester by Tuesday, 11.2k, mature Angelic marriage rites were never intended to go quite like this. Another old one that is a lot of fun! They get Accidental Angel Married and if you don’t enjoy dumb fanfiction tropes like that I don’t know what to say to you.

Vena Amoris and Other Old-Fashioned Bullshit by pyrebi, 4k, teen In which angelic marriage bonds are apparently stupidly easy to trigger, Cas wages multidimensional war in Heaven, Dean can't catch a break like ever, Sam rather enjoys being a dick, love saves the day, and nobody consummates anything. The OTHER accidental angel marriage fic written in 2010. 

Crazy Diamonds by pantheon_of_discord, 24.8k, explicit A week ago, Dean was pulled out of Hell. Now, he’s apparently woken up in 2018, and the angel that a mere twenty-four hours beforehand had threatened to chuck him back into the pit is sleepily pouring himself coffee and wearing Dean’s second-favourite Zeppelin shirt. It all seems like a perfect happy ending, but with Hell’s scars still so fresh, Dean can’t imagine how he could have possibly gotten there. At the same time, the Dean who went to sleep in the bunker, right next to Cas, wakes up on Bobby’s couch in 2008. He’s instantly bombarded with questions by a Lilith-obsessed brother and a man who’s been dead for years, and must decide between keeping his finally-perfect life intact, and the lives he could save by re-writing history. Regardless of these choices, both Deans are trapped in the wrong decade, and their only way back lies with a Castiel still very much under Heaven’s thumb – one who might find the future Dean describes difficult to believe. Time travel is FUN. There’s an excellent part where (minor spoilers) future!Dean is like, “Guess what, asshole? You like me so much you marry me!!!!!!!!!!!” to 2008!Castiel that made me laugh out loud the first time I read it. Also just a good reminder of how most problems in life are temporary and if you could go back in time to talk to your younger self you’d be like, “Hey man. Chill out. You get through it.”

The Path of Fireflies by museaway, 63.7k, mature After his humanity is restored, Dean wakes up in bed with Castiel, a wedding ring, and no memory of the past twelve years. There’s a lot of amnesia fic and djinn fic out there were Dean wakes up ~suddenly together with Cas~ but I like this one in particular because he’s initially very confused and kind of a dick about it until he acknowledges that being with Cas makes him happy.

take the long way home by dothraki_shieldmaiden, 95k, explicit Three months ago, when Dean decided to retire, he thought his life was going to end up differently. He'd thought that he might get to have it all, Sam, Cas, Jack, and nice little place to live. Instead he gets Sam and Jack off on their Summer of Love Tour, radio silence from Cas, and a never-ending road trip consisting of himself. Still reeling from the loss of his grace, Castiel travels the country in search of hunts. Driven by a need to prove his usefulness, he pushes himself beyond all limits of endurance. Together, with the help of a few friends, a crumbling Victorian house, and a stray cat, Dean and Castiel patch themselves back together and create a home together. Do you wanna read almost one hundred thousand words of Dean and Cas having extremely intense feelings but refusing to voice them aloud? Haha of course you do that’s why you’re here. There’s also a lot about Cas adjusting to being human and being depressed about it which might resonate if you’ve ever felt weird about having a body. To be honest the author could stand to use a few more commas but there were also half a dozen moments that made me put my phone down and drag my hand slowly over my face and whisper “oh my god” to myself which is like, the ultimate measure of a good fanfiction so it gets to be on the list.

like moses and batman and james dean by saltyfeathers, 31.6k, explicit dean used to turn tricks. over a decade later, he met cas. Have you seen the fanon (apparently pioneered by Mr. Jackles “Original Deankin” Ackles himself) that Dean used to prostitute himself to feed himself and Sam when they were younger? Are you interested in exploring that concept in fanfiction? Well, this is the only fic you need. Mind the tags on this one! It’s not what I’d call happy but it’s good.

Some Assembly Required by narrow_staircases, 47k, mature It’s September of 2005, and Dean Winchester, in an attempt to outrun old mistakes and painful memories, finds himself in southern Kentucky on a wild goose chase. He’s completely certain this weird religious movement he’s “investigating” is a hoax, despite the miraculous healings people report, and he’ll be back on the road in a day or two. Things are looking up when he meets Cas, an awkward (and gorgeous) graduate student who’s actually doing honest-to-god research into the local tent revival meetings. When that research takes a weird and personal turn, Dean’s left to face two very serious realities: one, this may be a real case after all, and two, he’s fallen way harder for Cas than he should ever have let himself. Stanford-era AU of Dean trying to avoid his father and getting in over his head on a case.

Alternate universe:

And This, Your Living Kiss by opal_bullets, 57k, mature Only a very few people in the world know that the celebrated and reclusive poet Jack Allen is just Kansas mechanic Dean Winchester, a high school dropout with a few bucks to his name. Not that it matters anymore; life has left him so wrung out he never wants to pick up another pen. Until, that is, a string of coincidences leads Dean to auditing a poetry course with one Dr. Castiel Novak. The  professor is wildly intelligent, devastatingly handsome...and just so happens to be academia's foremost expert on the poetry of Jack Allen. Mundane AUs in this fandom have to be really, really good to catch my attention and this one is! It’s exactly what it says in the summary and the characterization is spot-on. 

Out to Drift by deathbanjo, 20.9k, mature Dean drives a black car with a loud engine. He lies too easily. He keeps a gun in the back of his jeans, and Castiel isn’t sure, but he wouldn’t be surprised if Dean has killed someone before. Two people in fucked-up unstable situations meeting and forming a connection. Honestly guys I really just love deathbanjo.

[robbyrobinson]

VILLAIN REVIEW: KING ANDRIAS (AMPHIBIA)

Voiced by: Keith David

First Appearance: Marcy at the Gates

Admittedly, Amphibia didn't instantly hook me in ways that Gravity Falls or the Owl House had. The first season was okay what with the worldbuilding and stuff. But Season 2 definitely improved especially because of this guy.

BIOGRAPHY

Thousands of years ago, he was the ruler of Newtopia who was in charge of the Calamity Box, an interdimensional device that could allow people to travel to other worlds. From there, he claimed that his ancestors were peaceful explorers who used the box to communicate. One day, the box was stolen with him believing his two former friends betrayed him. From there, Newtopia lost a bit of its greatness....

At least until the day Anne Boonchuy, Marcy Wu, and Sasha Waybright inadvertently end up in Amphibia after Anne is peer pressured into stealing the box from an antique store. From there, in his own words, the game could finally begin.

PERSONALITY

Keith David does a brilliant job portraying the king of Amphibia. At first glance, Andrias comes off as being a jovial, childish monarch who comes across as a "kewl grandpa", not spelled "cool," but "K-E-W-L." He comes off as delighted with helping Anne and the girls find a way back home...maybe a bit too eager. Honestly, the first time that I have seen him, I already mentally worked it out that he would be a bad guy because a lot of those kings in cartoons turn out as such. Not to say that it really takes away from the overall performance, it is just kind of obvious.

Yet, there are several subtle hints of his true nature just at the surface such as when he and Marcy conduct research on the Calamity Box and find a secret passageway that he "did not know about." If you notice, he has a smug smile across his face before joining Marcy in the passage.

But it's once his true colors are exposed where he truly shines. To make it short and simple, Andrias is evil. Purely and simply evil. So far, he has all the cards as likely becoming one of the most evil of the Disney animated television shows, possibly competing with the heavier hitters like Lunaris, Bulba, or Bill freaking Cipher.

He is ruthless: he wants to rule over all worlds with an iron fist and will absolutely NOT let anything come in between him and his schemes. He can kill a sapient robot without batting an eye and then the next moment smoothly try to batter a baby frog with his fist. If you have a best friend, he'd think nothing of dangling them over a window and threaten to drop them if his demands are not met. And then do so anyway because he is a dick.

Make no mistakes: Andrias passes the criteria for a sociopath with glowing colors. He is manipulative. He puts on the superficial charm of a grandfather-like figure while secretly stringing people along and manipulating them like chess pieces. What he does to Marcy is the dickish cherry on top of the douchebag sundae. He exploits a 13-year-old's desperation of wanting to stay with her two best friends and pretends to empathize with her even offering her a deal that he knew was like sweet nectar to her: when he invades other worlds, she and her friends will travel the worlds together having several amazing adventures.

He lacks empathy or emotional attachments. Already you have some people going off the trailer for season 3 saying that Andrias definitely was fond of Marcy because she was shown in a rejuvenation machine. Sure, I can totally see where people are coming from. I mean, it's not like it was his own fault for putting her there to begin with. That's a crazy thought. In all seriousness, he only sees Marcy as a pawn in his schemes and his only response to stabbing her is an irritated "Now look what you made me do." Way to blame the victim for your own acts, Andrias.

He had two friends thousands of years ago that even now it is apparent he holds resentment towards them for "betraying" him. Him deciding to drop Sprig was him basically wanting Anne to go through the same pain he felt when he was "wronged." But that does nothing to EXPLAIN why he is such a sociopathic megalomaniac. If anything, how the episode plays it off is that his "friends" betrayed him because he was a psychotic salamander with delusions of grandeur. Given how much of a bully he was once he was revealed to be evil, I am really wondering if that could have also played into it. But it looks like the show is doing this to make Andrias more of a foil for Anne and her two friends.

And, currently, he has absolutely no remorse for any of his actions. He giddily reveals Marcy's secret that she was the one who deliberately stranded herself and her friends in Amphibia in the first place even when he knew that she told him that in confidence. He then mockingly apologizes for "spilling the tea."

And what is a sociopath if not egotistical? Andrias believes that he alone should rule over not just Amphibia, but the Earth, and other worlds. He doesn't care whether or not people will bow to his rule as the tapestry itself shows. He is standing over a pile of bones making it very explicit what his invasions will result in should Anne and her team fail to stop him.

But I will not deny that he is a scarily competent threat who doesn't mess around.

ABILITIES

He has lived for 1,000+ years. It is not confirmed if it has to do with the particular breed of salamander he is, or if his longevity comes in part due to his 13-eyed master whom he is helping accomplish this "revenge" by subverting a prophecy having to do with the three human girls.

Besides his manipulation and charisma, Andrias is a competent fighter. Despite being colossal and a bit on the chunky side, he is surprisingly agile and wields a flaming sword. He is also insanely stout. Even when Anne goes Super Saiyan mode on his ass, he could still hold his ground with the use of his shield.

He also has knowledge over machinery and can command his robo-frog army with ease.

FINAL SCORE

Biography: 6

Personality:

Abilities: 7

Overall: 7/10

[bugabash]

Hold me while we Fall - Chapter 3

WOW, I was late with this update, whoops! And the sole reason is that i am Lazy :D

Any hoo, this chapter was written and rewritten many damn times that I was ready to just give up, but I finally got it out! Now the amazing @sweetjupiterr and I are working on this project together, and some art work will be coming out in the future :D Please check out her Tumblr and her Instagram

Enjoy :)

First / Previous / Next

AO3

Chapter 3 - Training

“My name is Commandant Sadies! I am here for the sole purpose to make you feel fear! I am here to make you piss yourself at the sound of my voice! If I do my job right over the next 3 years you will become a shell of yourself and then become a soldier we can call competent! Right now, I am looking at you fucking sack of shits and I see no one who is good enough to be in the military!” The commandant screamed from the front, his arms behind his back, “Do not mistake anything I do for kindness! Because as far as you know I am the last face you see before you become a fucking SNACK for the titans!” He glared at them all, “now! I do not give a FUCK what is between your legs, you will be treated the same and no one has any excuse to fail at anything! You are cadets first and foremost! If I hear anyone complain you will be punished accordingly! Let’s have some fun!”

The commandant was a tall, bald man with deep sunken, black eyes and his face wore a look that spoke a thousand words. He used to be the commander for the scouts, his kill count for Titans was impressive and he was described as the best commandant that the military has had in years. The soldiers he brought into the military after the three years were the best in a long time. He walked with a sense of confidence that only looking death in the face could give you.

And now he was walking in their lines, drilling almost everyone, screaming in their faces and making them sweat. So far he had completed the first line and Marinette heard a few names, one girl’s name was Rose, she was from a small village in wall Rose (funnily enough, the commandant loved using that) and she was tiny, even smaller than Marinette, with short pixie cut blonde hair. She seemed like a little doll if Marinette were honest, her voice was high pitched and she everything about her seemed fragile. When the commandant was done with her she was trembling and her head was hung. Marinette wondered if she was crying.

The next person who caught Marinette’s eye was a tall boy with black spiked hair and broad shoulders. She couldn’t see his face but she could tell he was noticeably confident. The commandant had a grin on his face as he screamed at the boy, calling him a moronic ape. The boy’s name was Kim Le Chiến, the name stood out to her because she knew it was an oriental name just like the Cheng part of her name. She knew there were other clans but they usually stayed hidden out of fear of seclusion. Like her father always used to say, people fear others who don’t look like themselves. Kim was from a hunting village that used to reside in wall Maria, he wanted to join the scouts, screaming it out proudly as he saluted with his right fist over his heart. The commandant seemed content and moved on.

Marinette spotted one girl who was tall, long dark black hair that was in a braid down her back, her fringe covering most of her eye, she seemed to be the commandant’s new favourite toy from the look he gave her. She trembled as he screamed in her face, grabbing her fringe and lifting it up much to her surprise, screaming in her face about how he wanted soldiers who could actually see the titans before they were eaten. But the worst part was when he asked her anything, her voice was so soft and she had no confidence, making the Commandant even more angry. He didn’t get much out of her, calling her a disappointment and told her to start running around the field until he told her to stop. Marinette watched her jog off awkwardly, her eyes wide and fear all over her face.

The first row turned and faced the others at the commandant’s orders and soon Marinette was watching him grab a small dark skinned boy by the head and lifted him up, glaring at him and asking him if he was dropped as a baby, he had said the wrong thing apparently when he said he wanted to join the military police. Marinette looked forward, hearing the boy be dropped. So far the others were just… normal. She watched as the commandant skipped people, eyeing one girl in particular, she had dark auburn hair that she wore down around her shoulders, the ends in a small ponytail. He eyed her with a frown before moving on. Soon the second row was facing them and the commandant was making his way down her row.

Marinette looked to the side at Alya briefly, seeing her anxiously shuffling in her place. Marinette knew she was nervous, they had gone over what they would say the night before, reciting it over and over. Marinette felt sure in herself, she felt pride in her uniform and she felt like she had found her place. She took a deep breath and kept her eyes staring ahead as the commandant stepping in front of her.

He looked her over, his eyes falling on her scar and he examined it before moving on to Alya. She sighed in relief and closed her eyes, her mind going numb as she felt her scar go cold. She hated that scar so much, but at least it got her off the hook. She felt beads of sweat drop down her back slowly, the cold water against her hot skin making her skin prickle up in goosebumps. It was such an odd feeling, but it triggered a memory of that day, those green eyes, the blonde hair, the sweat dripping down his face and on to her in the giant hand. Her eyes shot open and she controlled her breathing as she felt it start to get erratic, glancing to the side with her eyes and saw Alya trembling with wide eyes, staring at the ground.

Shit! Marinette had completely blanked and missed Alya’s turn. She would ask her about it later, now she just needed to keep her head clear and keep focused.

“Third row about face!”

Marinette stood there, staring at the tall, blonde haired, green eyed boy in front of her, her mind going blank. Time froze and she felt her heart drop into her stomach, the hair on the back of her neck standing up. She looked him up and down, how was he here? Why was he here? They stared at each other, eyes wide, Marinette’s right eye twitching slightly.

Adrien…

He had grown a few inches, his shoulder’s broader and his jaw more defined. His face had lost his baby fat and he had the beginning of some facial hair barely visible on his chin. She realised she had her breath held as the commandant stepped in front of her, looking at Adrien. She blinked and shook her head, she needed to get her composure back. She was suddenly very aware that she was in the shirt she had thought he had left for her as well. She looked over at Alya who had wide eyes and her jaw was slack. She knew Alya had spoken to Adrien before when he visited her apparently. But Marinette never asked more, the pain of it all too overwhelming at the time. She took a deep breath and looked back, blinking.

She looked at Adrien who was frowning at her. Why was he frowning at her? So, in return, she frowned back in defiance, shaking her head a little and raising her eyebrow as if to say what. His eyes moved away from her eyes as he looked her over. She scrunched her lips up and looked him over too.

How had it been a year and a half already? How were they in the same cadet corps? How had he grown up so much since then? She had barely changed, only grown a little after hitting puberty, the only change to her was probably her hair and that she didn’t smile much anymore. She caught his eyes again but… he wasn’t frowning anymore. He was looking at her like… her frown dropped and she watched him, gulping softly. He was looking at her like he did that day when he thought they were safe. Like she was the only person in the world. What was he…?

“Fourth row, about face!” And like that he turned around, his back to her. She stared at the back of his head for a minute before blocking out her thoughts on him. Turning her attention back to the task at hand, she needed to stay focused. This didn’t change anything. Just a slight bump in the road. Major bump but that didn’t matter!

“What is your name, bean stalk!” She heard the commandant yell, thankful to take her mind off of Adrien, looking over. He was standing in front of a tall boy with dark shaggy hair that fell over his forehead and sparkling blue eyes.

He came to attention, his fist over his heart with his other arm behind his back still, “Luka Couffaine, sir!”

“Couffaine, huh? Is that your undisciplined sister running around the field like a fuck up?” He yelled back.

“Yes sir! She is my younger twin sister, sir!” Luka replied confidently, his cool and calm exterior intriguing her.

“Twins huh? That’s rarity these days!” The commandant said as he pulled on his small goatee as if in thought, “are you going to be as quiet and useless as her, Couffaine?”

“No sir! I am loud and I am ready to fight!” Luka clenched his fist tighter, his brows furrowed slightly.

“Is that so? Where are you and your creature of a sister from, Couffaine?” The commandant leant in closer.

“Shiganshina sir!” He replied, his eyes darkening. Marinette raised her brows and gulped, there were more people from Shiganshina here? It was a stupid question, but she grew up there and had never seen this boy before.

“Shiganshina hey?” The commandant examined him briefly before speaking up, stepping into Luka’s personal space. “And what do you plan on doing if I allow you to graduate, private? Are you going to fuck off to the inner walls like the rest of these pussies want to do or are you going to be a man?”

“I plan on joining the scouts sir!” Luka yelled in determination.

The commandant was quiet for a minute before he scoffed, “Well, we will see if you are worth it now won’t we.” And with that he moved on.

Marinette watched him walk to the next person before her eyes went back to the boy, Luka. He caught her eyes and looked over at her. She blinked and looked back, unable to look away like she was frozen, watching as he smiled small at her briefly before dropping it before the commandant could see. Marinette blinked and smiled slightly, looking away and staring back forward, noticing Adrien’s head was turned slightly. Was he looking at Luka?

Soon the commandant was back in the front, everyone facing him at attention. “The next three years will be the worse you have ever experienced in your pathetic lives! You will be pushed to the breaking point both mentally and physically! If you do not wake up in the future hating these days then you didn’t try hard enough and should be fucking ashamed!” He yelled, “I am not training you to run off to the fucking interior, I am training you to be scouts, or the level of the scouts! Do you understand me?”

“Sir, yes, sir!” They chanted.

“This does not mean that you have to join the scouts before you ask some stupid fucking questions, but you better fucking be as good as them or else you aren’t good enough for the military and you can go work the field with the other cowards!” He started walking down the line. “Any of you worthless shits ready to quit? The wagon leaves at sundown. Now, let the fun begin!”

---

Marinette grumbled under her breath as she finished pulling on her civilian clothes. She sighed and stood in front of her wooden locker, brushing her hair in frustration. She was in a pale pink knee length skirt, light brown lace up boots and a white button up top under her faded black cardigan, with a grey scarf around her neck in an effort to hide her scar. The clothes were slightly baggy on her as they were second hand from Alya’s sister and mom, but she didn’t care at this point. Her body ached from the hours of extreme physical activity and she was starving. She put her brush down and looked over at Alya who was lacing up her brown boots. She had chosen to wear a dark grey skirt and a white shirt with a dark brown vest buttoned up on her stomach. Her hair was in a pony still, her fluffy hair falling around her face with ease.

She stood up and checked everything was in place before smiling at Marinette, “you ready?” She asked, Marinette nodded took a deep breath, the bell for dinner chiming. Great… Just in time. The girls building was the furthest away from everything so the walk took a little more of a walk compared to the boys’. But from the ruckus coming from their courters, she was certain they would be late. She rolled her eyes, boys.

“Do you think Adrien is going to approach you?” Alya asked curiously, eyes on the dirt floor as they made their way to the mess hall.

“I don’t know… It’s been so long since I last saw him, I’ve only met him once and it’s like…it’s like I have known him longer, you know? We met once but what we went through was…” She frowned and sighed, running her hands through her hair in frustration. “Intense to say the least. I just wanted a fresh start, I wasn’t expecting him to be here.”

“And he saw you in his shirt.” Alya chimed in, causing Marinette’s head to snap towards her.

“You said you didn’t know if it was his or not?” Marinette questioned with a frown and a pouted lip.

“I uhm, well you see, you weren’t in the uh, greatest of states.” Alya stammered out nervously, her fingers fiddling with each other, a nervous smile on her face. “I didn’t know how you would react! But yeah… it’s uh, his. He asked me to give it to you, then you uh… headbutted a nurse and I thought it best not to tell you. I’m sorry, girl.”

Marinette glared at her playfully before sighing and looking forward, “at least I know now, ugh, I must have looked like such a loser today, Alya.”

“I don’t think so, I was watching him, he seemed pretty shocked to see you, but I saw how he looked at you.” Alya elbowed her playfully as they started up the steps, “it was quite the look.” Alya giggled, Marinette rolling her eyes at her friend.

“I am not here for that.” She chided back before she looked to the side, blinking and walking to the railing on the balcony outside the mess hall. Alya stood next to her, her smile gone. A few others joined them as they started at the cart going up the hill.

“They couldn’t make it, gave up.” A voice behind her spoke up, “Man, I know today sucked but enough to quit?”

“Some people just can’t handle it. Get over it, Kim.” A high pitch, annoyed voice piped up that made Marinette frown and roll her eyes instinctively. She watched the wagon leave, the people in the back huddled together, their hoods up. She didn’t recognise anyone special, maybe one girl from her room but that was it. Was it really that bad for them that they had to quit? It was the first day!

“Come on, let’s get something to eat.” Alya said, tugging on Marinette’s arm. Marinette let her pull her along, turning and heading inside to the big hall that was lined with wooden picnic tables and a station to be served. Marinette followed her along, passing a girl who was stood at the doorway as if she were waiting for someone, her arms crossed over her chest and such a sour expression that made Marinette curl her lip up, she just knew this girl was going to be a problem. She had that look. She was around Alya’s height, slim with long blonde hair that was in a high ponytail, her bangs framing her face. She had perfect skin, piercing blue eyes and a mouth that seemed to be permanently in a scowl. She glared at Marinette as she passed, Marinette raised a brow at her but didn’t give her much time. “Keep moving, Scarface.” She growled, making Marinette blink and pull her scarf up over her mouth for comfort.

Marinette glanced around as they entered the hall, her already bitter mood even worse. It was mainly the girls in there, a few of the boys were already sitting, boasting away and metaphorically measuring dick sizes. She knew the signs, she had seen so many boys do it in her lessons before. She saw a few people were looking at her, whispering to each other so she turned her eyes forward.

“Do you think she got her scar facing a titan?”

“He didn’t even speak to her.”

“I heard she’s from Shiganshina.”

“Do you think she was there?”

“How big do you think it is?”

“No way she escaped a titan, she barely looks like she can break a toothpick.”

Marinette looked away, fiddling with her scarf more making sure her scar was hidden. “Don’t listen to them.” Alya said, passing her a mug and bowl. “Let’s get some food, girl.”

Soon they were sitting at a table in the corner, as Alya knew Marinette liked to be out of view. The whispers carried on unfortunately, Marinette purposefully sitting so the candlelight hit her right side of her face, chewing on her lip.

“Girl, what have I said? Ignore them. They aren’t talking about your scar, they are talking about how you got it.” Alya said, reaching over and taking Marinette’s hand. Marinette blinked and frowned slightly, “no one knows the real story but I heard a few people making shit up,” she rolled her eyes and broke off a piece of her bread, dipping it into her stew. “I heard one story about how you fought off a titan with a butter knife, hmm, was interesting.”

Marinette snorted and looked down at her food, playing with it a bit before she pushed her scarf down and started eating. It was bland, mushy and didn’t really taste good, but Marinette didn’t care. This was amazing to her from the rationing the past year and a half, and she was starving. “A butterknife huh? That’s pretty dumb.”

“Yeah, I know.” Alya said with a smirk, “I started it.” Marinette raised her eyebrows before she snorted out a giggle, covering her mouth to stop the stew coming out, Alya giggling along with her.

“You did not!” Marinette hissed between her silent giggles.

“Of course, it was me! It’s too funny! They are going to find out soon anyway, may as well let them be dumb enough to believe shit like that. And if they do, then that’s on them.” She giggled in reply, biting into her bread with a wink.

Marinette shook her head and smiled small at her friend, eyes going back over the crowd of teenagers she would soon call her comrades, maybe even her friends. As she looked back down she heard someone clear their throat to her left. Both her and Alya looked up and saw Adrien standing there with a boy Marinette thought was Nino. He was a little taller than Adrien, dressed in dark brown trousers and a black V-neck shirt, he had golden, hazel eyes and dark skin, his hair spiked on top while faded underneath.

Shit! She chocked on her bread and ended up coughing, hiding her face as she did. Alya looked over at her with a raised brow as Adrien patted Marinette on the back worriedly.

“You good girl?” She asked, tilting her head and smirking small. Marinette nodded in reply and flashed a thumbs up before grabbing her mug of water, downing it as Adrien straightened back up. Shit, shit, shit.

Adrien looked at Marinette worriedly, “Are you okay?” He asked gently, his brows furrowed together.

“Y-ye” she cleared her throat, “yeah, I’m all goo-good, I’m fine.” She stammered, wiping her mouth and sitting up straight.

“Is it cool if we sit with you, dudettes?” Nino asked, Marinette blinking as how he spoke. It was very nonchalant and was how the boys who would get in trouble a lot at school would talk. But something about him made Marinette feel at ease, like he was someone she could trust.

“Yeah, of course.” Alya said, eyeing Marinette before she moved to the right so one of the boys could slip in. Nino slid next to her on her left, smiling lazily at her. Marinette gulped and moved over too, letting Adrien slide in. She pulled her scarf up as the candlelight on the table hit her left side, her scar on full show. She looked around anxiously and saw more people looking at her and whispering. Adrien placed his plate down and watched her worriedly.

“They aren’t just looking at you, Marinette.” He spoke up, causing her to look at him with a jump, “the guys in my room found out I was in Shiganshina and saw the titans thanks to someone’s” he frowned at Nino, “big mouth. So, they’ve been talking about me too.” Marinette was put at ease a little more at the thought that it wasn’t just her. Nodding and letting the scarf fall back down, looking down at her food, willing her appetite to come back. “I’m actually surprised they haven’t come over here questioning us on it if I’m honest. They aren’t shy.”

“Well, I mean they’re probably scared of her, Marinette was it?” Marinette nodded at Nino, “I mean, I heard you took down a Titan with a butterknife and that’s how you got your gnarly scar!” Alya snorted her into her mug next to him, Marinette biting her lips in an attempt not to laugh, and Adrien looked at Nino in bewilderment and confusion, his brows raise.

“Wait, what?” Adrien asked in confusion.

“Oh, didn’t you hear? Little miss badass here got her scar by fighting off a titan with a butterknife!” Alya joked with a hearty laugh, “that’s how she got her scar.” Marinette laughed softly, rolling her eyes.

“She isn’t serious, right?” Adrien asked Marinette nervously, looking down at her with wide eyes and a pained expression.

“No.” She replied and shook her head, “they have been talking about me all day, so Alya here,” Alya waved, “told them I got my scar fighting a titan with a butterknife, of all things.” Marinette chuckled softly, taking a bite of her bread as her nerves slowly faded, hunger replacing them.

“No way, that was you?” Nino asked Alya with a raised brow, “respect!” Alya laughed and high fived Nino, Marinette smiling small and focusing back on her meal. “So, Marinette, how did you get your scar?” Nino asked cheerfully with his mouth full.

Marinette froze as she broke apart her bread, eyes dashing to Adrien who was looking down at his own bowl, his Adams apple bobbing. She looked back down at her food and cleared her throat, she knew there would be questions. “I’m from Shiganshina. I got hit by some debris when a titan fell behind us. Nothing special, simply wrong place at the wrong time.” Marinette answered as casually as she could manage, pressing her lips together tightly as she smiled awkwardly and shrugging, feeling Adrien’s eyes on her.

“Wait, you have actually seen the titans? For real?” Nino exclaimed a little too loud for Marinette’s liking. She froze, looking up to see the room was almost silent now, and people were looking over at them. “Both of you two have?”

“Nino.” Adrien warned, “Shut up.” He looked around nervously too, Marinette didn’t think it was a day he would enjoy talking about either. Marinette rolled her shoulders nervously as if she were getting out knots in her muscles, pulling her scarf up.

Nino turned and looked around guiltily, “Shit, sorry dude.” He whispered before he turned around and hunched over, shovelling his food into his mouth. Marinette fiddled with her food between her fingers, pulling apart the last bit of bread and watching it fall into what was left of her stew.

Marinette and Adrien looked at each other as the talking picked back up in the room, a frown on Marinette’s mouth and her brows furrowed. Adrien glanced around again, Marinette watching as his hair flowed on his forehead and around his ears as he looked around. She had to admit to herself, he did look incredible with shaggier hair. She blushed and looked away with wide eyes, what kind of thought was that? The thought making her very aware the last time she saw him she was only eleven and a half maybe, she was under 5”, a child still, and hadn’t even hit puberty, she should not be having those kinds of thoughts, especially because he probably still sees her as that little child.

“So, Adrien.” Alya spoke up, bringing Marinette back to Earth, “are you from Shiganshina too?”

Adrien looked back at her and smiled warmly, “no, uh, I’m actually from…” He hesitated, “uh, I’m from Stohess.” They all stared at him in shock, Marinette more than anyone.

Stohess? He was from Stohess? Why the hell was he in Shiganshina that day? That’s a district on the interior walls.

“You’re from the interior?” Nino asked in surprise, “dude…”

“I mean, I guess, it’s not exactly the interior, and plus I haven’t been there in over a year and a half.” Adrien pointed out, rubbing the back of his neck.

Alya was examining him, “you don’t seem like someone from the interior.” She leant over the table slightly. “They are usually so far up their asses that they like the smell of their own shit, you don’t seem like that.”

Adrien looked slightly amused, a small cocky grin appearing, “what? Not everyone is like that, trust me. And that could also be because I have been living with…” He was about to say something but he stopped, Marinette frowned, she was sure he was about to say his brother, but he didn’t. Why didn’t he? “I have relatives in the scouts, they took me in.” He glanced at Marinette briefly, he looked nervous. Relatives? That was one way of putting it. She knew his brother was in the scouts, and Tikki had said he had come back from the attempt to get Wall Maria back so she knew he was alive. Why wasn’t he saying anything about Plagg? She could reason that he didn’t want special treatment, but she doubted it would end up like that if anyone knew. But she wasn’t going to tell his story, it wasn’t her place, but she would question him later.

“The scouts? That’s lucky.” Nino replied, “so, you must be, like starving.” Nino laughed as Adrien raised a brow, “did they feed you as well as people say?”

“I mean, I never went hungry, but it wasn’t as great as everyone likes to say.” Adrien shrugged, “I spent most of the time alone and I always ate alone. I preferred the time I spent with the scouts if I’m honest.”

“Well, you are one of the few from the interior I think, I don’t know any of them yet, well, besides Chloe.” Nino pointed out, “everyone else is from the outers walls.”

“Who’s Chloe?” Marinette asked softly between bites, her hunger back in full force, Adrien snorting a laugh as she shovelled the last bit of her stew into her mouth.

“The bitchy one.” Alya said with a roll of her eyes, “the blonde one who looks like someone bitch slapped her expression onto her face.” Alya leant into her hand as she rested her elbow on the table, “she wanted to go to the cadet bases in the interior but got sent here instead. She’s dead set on military police, boasting about how she is going to live a life of luxury.” Alya rolled her eyes and curled her lip up in disgust. “But she is probably one of the most awful people I have ever met.”

“Wait, the girl from earlier?” Marinette asked with a raised brow, Adrien looking at her.

“Sadly, I told you, awful person!” Alya exclaimed, waving her hand in gesture.

“What happened earlier?” Adrien asked, looking between her and Alya.

Marinette frowned, pushing her bowl to the side, “after we saw the dropouts leave we passed her on the way in, she just gave me a filthy look and called me… Scarface.” She said, running her fingers over her marred cheek, feeling the jagged scar.

“What? That’s not okay, Marinette!” Adrien exclaimed, Nino looking horrified as he dropped his spoon into his bowl.

“Dude…”

“It’s fine, honestly, it doesn’t bug me.” Marinette reassured them, her eyes dancing between the boys, the light reflecting off her blue eyes.

“That’s so shit dude, you don’t say stuff like that.” Nino shook his head, “see, that’s what I would expect from a person from the interior, not… you.” Nino joked, Adrien laughing softly, but his brows were furrowed and he seemed lost in thought.

As they were chatting, a certain blonde had made her way over, slamming her hands onto the table, making all of them jump and look at her. Marinette stared at her with wide eyes, she had moved away from the noise, bumping into Adrien’s chest who placed a hand on her waist to steady her, a frown on his face as he glared at Chloe.

“How funny!” Chloe spoke up, a devilish grin on her face, “the little peasant made a joke!” She eyed Nino who just frowned at her. “Nothing to say now? How cute.” She straightened up and flicked her ponytail back with practiced ease, eyeing them all before her gaze stopped on Adrien, her brow raising. “Adrien Agreste?” She asked in genuine surprise, Adrien blinked, “last I heard you were a missing person.”

The three turned and looked at him, Marinette not moving but just turning her head to look up at him, the feeling of his chest against part of her back was comforting, “what?”

Adrien gulped and shifted slightly, “I uh, I ran away from home to join the military then… Shiganshina happened.”

“And you chose here?” Chloe asked in disgust, Adrien frowning at her in annoyance. “How ridiculous. Well, you seem to have made an…” she looked around in distain, “odd group of friends, especially this broken little doll here.” She said with a sly smirk, leaning towards Marinette who just glared at her, Adrien’s hand gripping onto Marinette’s shirt slightly.

“Can you just go away, Chloe.” Marinette spoke up, frowning at her, anger filling her body. She was no little doll, and she wasn’t broken. “And I am no doll.” She glared at her, her blue eyes darkening and narrowing as she felt her body fill with power.

“Oh no…” Alya whispered, her eyes wide as she gripped the edge of the table.

Chloe looked a little taken aback but brushed it off quickly, throwing her head back and laughing, “Ooh, someone is a brave one!” She leant over, her face inches from Marinette’s who didn’t even flinch, her face dark and her patience wearing thin.

“Marinette… don’t.” Alya warned in a hiss, Adrien looked at her, his brows furrowed in confusion. Marinette’s face changed suddenly, becoming completely emotionless as she stared up at Chloe from under her eyelashes. “Marinette…”

“So, tell me, how did you get your scar, little doll.” Chloe smirked, her eyes narrowing.

“From a titan.” She replied in a calm voice, whispers starting around them, she hadn’t even realised that everyone was watching them, the room uncomfortably quiet. “How did you get yours?” Marinette asked with a tilt of her head as Alya dropped her head into her hand with a groan, shaking her head. Nino and Adrien looking at her in confusion before looking back at the girls.

Chloe frowned and looked confused by the question, “What? I don’t have a-” before she could finish her sentence, at lightning speed Marinette headbutted Chloe who screamed and fell back, hands going to her face. Adrien held his hands up as it happened, moving back slightly to give Marinette room.

Marinette just stared at her, as she screamed and cried on the floor, blood dripping onto the dirty floors, expressionless and completely unphased. The boys stared at her in complete shock, Adrien’s eyes wide and their jaws slack. They stared at her like she had grown another head, they really weren’t expecting that to happen.

Marinette wiped whatever was on her forehead off on her sleeve as if nothing had happened and picked up her plate and mug. Alya lifted her head with a frown and did the same. The room was silent, Chloe’s crying on the floor as she cradled her broken, bleeding nose, whinging out a few words that sounded like “ridiculous” every now and then. Everyone watched Marinette as she stood up, stepped over Chloe and walked to put her plates down in the kitchen to be washed calmly, Alya following close behind with hunched shoulders and a bitter expression.

She exited the kitchen and looked around, everyone was looking at her in complete awe still, it made her feel extremely uncomfortable but she still showed nothing on her face. She waved to Nino and Adrien goodnight before the girls walked out, Adrien and Nino watching them go with heir mouths hanging open still, Adrien’s handheld up in a wave goodbye.

“Did you have to do that?” Alya asked with a small laugh, looking up at the stars above them as they walked back to the girls courters.

“No, but she pissed me off. So, I did.” Marinette said plainly, looking up as well as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Maybe now she won’t call me Scarface.”

“I think you just pissed her off more than anything.” Alya laughed, tucking her hands in her pockets. “Still, I’m impressed. Nora’s lessons seem to have paid off.”

Marinette smiled her crooked smile, looking over at Alya, “seems like it.” Alya smiled back at her before she grinned maliciously, hiking up her skirt.

“Race you!” Alya said before taking off running, Marinette gasped before grinning as well, the familiar tug on her mouth feeling good for once, hiking up her own skirt and taking off after Alya. Their laughter filled the air, Marinette letting her hands go up in the air as she got there first, laughing with all her heart. She stopped herself on the railing on the stairs, panting between laughs.

“Yes! And Dupain-Cheng has taken the win!” She cheered, punching a fist in the air mid jump, grinning fully. Alya was bent over, laughing as she panted, waving her hand at Marinette dismissingly.

Marinette laughed and looked back towards where they had come from and saw Adrien watching her, a smile on his face. She blinked as she tried to catch her breath, tucking her hair behind her ear again as she blushed, watching him for a moment, her smile dropping back to her normal small smile as she realised he had seen her crooked smile.

“He likes you.” Alya interrupted her thoughts, Marinette looking back at her.

“What? Don’t be ridiculous.” Marinette said with a raised brow, turning and starting up the stairs, shaking her head.

“Ridiculous? Marinette, are you blind?” She asked with a snort, skipping up the steps two at a time and pushing the door open to their courters. There was one girl curled up in bed already, but other than that they were alone in their shared room. “That boy looks at you like you can do no wrong.” Alya flung back onto the bed below her hard bed, frowning and punching the mattress.

“You are looking too much into it, Alya.” Marinette sat on the bed below her own bunk next to Alya’s, bending down and undoing her boots. “The last time he saw me I was eleven, I was a kid.”

“And now you’re not a kid anymore, you’re thirteen now.” Alya joked, lifting her head and wiggling her eyebrows at Marinette who blushed and looked away. “Work those new hips, hell, you even grew a bit!” Marinette frowned at her, “I knew you at eleven, you have changed.” Alya smirked and rolled off the bed. “Oh, come on! How do you not see it?”

“Because there is nothing to see!” Marinette exclaimed, standing up and placing her boots in her wooden locker. “He probably just feels a bit protective of me because of what we went through together.” Marinette looked back at her best friend, letting a laugh out at Alya’s flabbergasted face.

“A little?” Alya sat straight up, pushing her boots off with the end toes. “I swear the look that boy had when she-witch started on you, I thought he was gonna headbutt her himself.” She started undoing her vest and snorted, “then you went and did it yourself.”

Marinette couldn’t help but chuckle at that, “it was kind of funny.” She said as she pulled her shirt off, standing in her plain cream bra. She put the shirt away and pulled out her night dress. Alya laughing away behind her as she got out of her own clothes. “She got in my face, it’s not my fault.” She said as she wriggled out of her skirt and bra, pulling the pink dress on.

“Exactly, but, I mean, you don��t exactly look like the kind of person who goes around headbutting people.” Alya pointed out as she pulled on her dark brown dress. Marinette shrugged at that, if people didn’t suspect she could headbutt them because of her size then that is their problem really.

“Well, if they underestimate me then it’s their problem,” She said, climbing up onto the top bunk, slipping into the hard bed, rolling over and watching Alya slip into the top bunk next to her. “Besides, I was only making a first impression.” She said with an evil grin.

Alya laughed and rolled her eyes, “girl, they have no idea what they are messing with when it comes to you.” She joked, looking over with golden eyes. “And they better watch out, I don’t need to protect you, you got that down.”

Marinette giggled and snuggled in, the girls’ chatter filling the air as they entered. “Goodnight Alya,” she said, “I can’t believe we are really here.”

“I know… Let’s hope it’s worth something. Night, girl.”

oOo

“What the fuck do you call that? Are you even fucking trying, cadet?” The commandant screamed at a boy named Ivan who hung upside down from his ODM gear, whining slightly and kicking his legs about.

Marinette watched from her own area as her nerves were getting the best of her. She was up soon. Adrien had passed with flying colours which wasn’t surprising, the past week he had excelled in almost everything, and so he was standing to help the others, smiling kindly to everyone. Alya stood in front of her, silent for once, her hands trembling slightly.

It had been a week already and all of their bodies ached from the harsh physical training the commandant put them through. Marinette was sure he got a kick out of making them throw up from physical exertion. Alya was suffering more than Marinette currently, she was sore and, to top it off, she was missing home. A double whammy for her. She had spent the night in Marinette’s bed, crying and clinging to her best friend. She knew what was coming today, the omni-mobility directional gear test. They were both nervous, they had heard stories from Adrien that if you didn’t pass it over the week then you get sent home, most likely to work in the fields.

They wore straps all over their body, starting from the soles of their feet, going up their legs connecting to their red sash around their waist which was attached to a belt, which then connected to the harness strapped over their lower back, connecting to the padded straps going over their shoulders with a strap across their chest. They were made to keep their bodies in the air with full body motion while using their gear. It was effective but needed extreme training to be used to its full potential. That was why the training was three years. The level of fitness they needed to use it effectively intimated Marinette, she was small and light which would be an advantage to her but the muscle strength she would need to build up would take a while, and she was scared she wasn’t strong enough.

She looked over at Adrien who was smiling happily, cheering on the girl who was currently strapped in, she knew he would be fine, he was incredibly strong and had a huge advantage from living with the scouts all this time. She wished she had done more training with Alya’s sister after she had recovered, it would have helped today.

“Césaire! I’m watching you today!” The commandant yelled as he stalked over, his sunken eyes staring her down with a scowl on his face, Alya jumped and trembled more under his gaze. Soon he was standing there watching, Adrien shuffling slightly, glancing at Marinette who shrugged. “Are you going to mess this up just like you did in the run yesterday?”

“No sir!” Alya stepped forward, gulping as she was being strapped to the stable build. It was a three wooden pole structure with the wires hanging in the middle connected to a crank, they were required to be able to stay stable easily off the ground, hanging there with control. Many had failed already, not being able to stable themselves and in turn got screamed at by the commandant and degraded in front of their peers. Alya was now strapped in, facing the commandant who was glaring. Adrien started on the crank, lifting her up, her feet leaving the ground slowly. She wobbled, squeaks leaving her mouth as she struggled to stay up, her mouth screwed up and her eyes wide.

“Go Alya! You got this!” Nino cheered behind Marinette, throwing a fist in the air.

Alya struggled but soon was hanging, her body eventually relaxing and a wide smile appeared on her face, looking at Marinette for confidence who gave her a thumbs up. They had to hang there for a few minutes before getting off. Nino cheered and slung an arm over Marinette’s shoulders, leaning down from next to her, “you got this too.” He whispered with a smile, he knew how nervous she was so she smiled small and nodded. Over the past week the four of them had become close, Marinette finding a level of trust in Nino like she did in an older sibling, it was calming.

“You think?” She asked softly, looking up at Nino.

“Oh yeah, dudette, you have this down! It’s just about getting used to it.” He smiled confidently, he had already passed, looking almost bored when he hung there, even when the commandant screamed at him to wake up.

Alya was soon unstrapped and skipped over to them, beaming from ear to ear. The Commandant nodded and looked to the side, eyes narrowing as he glared, “Priss! What the fuck is that form?” He said before storming off to the next victim.

Adrien watched the Commandant leave with a raised brow and a slight frown, then turned to Marinette and grinned as she walked towards him. “M’lady.” His confidence with her had grown over the past few days, coming up with a nickname for her and showing a side of him that was very playful and sarcastic. She chuckled softly whenever it showed up, smiling with a tilt of her head as he held out his hand. She eyed it but felt eyes on her so she kept her complexion again and low fived his hand instead. She stepped forward and was strapped to the device. “Good luck.” He whispered before he moved eyes, their eyes meeting before he started the crank.

Marinette took a deep breath and closed her eyes briefly. She felt her feet lift the floor and she clenched her body. Her muscles started working, muscles she never thought existed as she swayed and almost fell backwards, a squeak falling from her lips as her eyes flew open, her hands going out to the sides as she tried to stabilise.

“Mari!” Adrien called out. She felt more eyes watching her, causing the commandant to turn his death stare on her. Shit! Don’t come over here!

“I’m fine, Agreste!” She called out, determination all over her face, her muscles tightening and she caught herself at the last second. She felt the straps pull on her body, adjusting to the feel. She gasped softly, she felt strong up there, feeling power flow through all the limbs. She looked up, relaxing her limbs as she felt the tug against the soles of her feet at the change of the position. She closed her eyes and let her body hang, enjoying the wind blowing through her hair. She got used to the feel of it and suddenly it was easy. She took a deep breath, opening her eyes to meet the commandant. Her look of confidence falling as her eyes widened.

“Dupain-Cheng, feeling comfy up there?” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at her.

“Yes sir!” She cried out, gulping and straightening slightly.

“No surprises this time?” He stepped forward, raising a brow.

“No, sir!” She called out, sweat starting on the back of her neck.

“Good, now keep your fucking eyes open and focus!” He screamed, making her flinch and call out another yes sir. She expected him to walk away but he watched her, his dark, empty eyes watching every movement she made, she gulped and glanced at Adrien who was frowning. He gave her an encouraging thumbs up before looking back over at the commandant.

The commandant watched her for a few minutes before finally moving on, Marinette letting out a sigh in relief as she relaxed. She was slowly lowered, feeling the hard surface under her boots. Adrien ran to her side, “damn, what is his deal?” He whispered, frowning as he fiddled with the clips on Marinette’s waist. “I swear he gets angrier by the day.” Adrien looked over at the Commandant who had a recruit almost in tears, holding him upside down by the ankle, screaming in his face.

“Shush, he might hear you.” She warned, smacking his arm, frowning at him, looking anxiously back at the commandant in fear he had heard Adrien. The last person to say something like that ended up running until the sun set with a bag full of rocks, and they had found him passed out on the field the next morning. She didn’t want to be punished, especially with how her body was feeling.

“Ow! Alright!” He frowned and pouted a little at her, “it’s just he never lays off.” Adrien sighed, starting on the second clip.

“He’s our Commandant, he does it for a reason. You of all people know what the titans are like. They are going to be a lot worse when they are trying to eat us.” She whispered, frowning at how casual he was about it. “Watch how loud you say that stuff, we don’t need more punishments.” She hissed as she looked up at him, their eyes locking as his hand brushed her waist. She felt the clip fall away as they stood there in silence, frowning at each other, inches between them as Adrien looked down at her with furrowed brows.

Someone cleared their throat and they both blinked, stepping away from each other, Marinette powerwalking back to Alya who was smirking at her, her arms folded across her chest as she wiggled her eyebrows. “Don’t.” Marinette warned as she stood next to Alya, turning and looking away when Adrien glanced at them, a blush covering her cheeks.

“Wanna talk about what that was?” Alya nudged her. “Lovers quarrel?”

“We aren’t lovers, stop that.” She frowned, blushing brightly, “I don’t get how he can be so casual about stuff, we both went through hell, we know what is out there, yet he can complain about the commandant when he is right over there. Not everyone is as fit as he is.” She huffed and crossed her arms over her chest, hearing the commandant screaming at another person in the background. Marinette knew she could be a little serious a lot of the time but she didn’t want to get in trouble or get on the bad side of the commandant because of someone else.

“Girl, you are too serious at times!” Alya nudged her while laughing, “lighten up!”

“Alya’s right, dudette!” Nino piped up, walking over and resting his arm on Alya’s shoulder, smiling lazily down at them. “You are way too grown up for someone so small, you just gotta take it one step at a time!” He gave her a toothy grin, Marinette’s frown falling. “And with Adrien, I think he’s just a confident dude, he did spend the last year and a half with the scouts.” Nino shrugged, “he can do most of this stuff with his eyes closed.”

“Yeah… Lucky for some.” Marinette muttered looking back at Adrien who wasn’t smiling anymore, instead watching the other cadets closely as they hung. “He is very confident, isn’t he?”

“He seems to be more confident around you, to be honest” Nino said before he stretched his arms up, everything about him screamed relaxed and laid back, Marinette was jealous of it. “It’s like you’re his lucky charm.”

Marinette rolled her eyes and huffed, she knew they were right but she wasn’t in the wrong for taking this seriously, she looked away, her expression darkening. A flash of that big smile made her flinch, chewing her lip gently, her fringe falling over her eyes as she closed them. She knew what was out there, she knew the threat so she wouldn’t apologise for how serious she was. Another flash of a boulder crushing someone in front of her, blood everywhere. She opened her eyes and stared at the floor, her arms that were crossed over her chest were now hugging herself gently, her hand lifting and tracing her scar. She didn’t care if he could act so nonchalant, she wouldn’t act like that.

“I won’t apologise for being serious.” She said softly, Alya and Nino watching her, a worried look on Alya’s face. “I watched people die, I was almost eaten by a titan and I almost died running for my life. So, I won’t apologise for taking this seriously so I stay alive.” She looked over at them, “so if he gets us in trouble by opening that sarcastic mouth of his then I won’t be very ‘chill’.”

“It’s okay, girl, you don’t need to explain it to us. If he does, I’ll kick his ass for you.” Alya joked, Marinette smiling small and chuckling softly. “Now, come on, lets focus on the lesson.”

oOo

“Leave the horses! Release ODM gear! Now!” Plagg screamed, jumping onto the horses back, releasing his wire and flinging himself towards the wall, the rest of the soldiers following suit. Adrien growled as he hit the wall, running up it and sending his wires further up. He had to get up there, the bodies at the base of the wall had garrison uniform, a lot of them his former classmates. It was happening again, how was it happening again, it had been five years, how was this happening again!?

He flung himself up and skidded onto the top of the wall, Marinette landing next to him gracefully, her face thunder, her blades drawn. Soon all of the scouts were on top of the wall, looking over the titan infested town. Adrien gasped and widened his eyes. There were dead bodies everywhere, giant boulders littered throughout the town and so many buildings were destroyed. They had taken too long to get here. He looked over and saw soldiers littered on rooftops, they must mostly be the cadets.

“Shit!” He heard Marinette curse, gripping her blades tighter. “They’ve run out of gas!” She called out, “The supply building is overrun!” She pointed to the castle like building, at least 6 titans climbing on it or around it. “That must be why they are not moving from the rooftops! If they had gas the safest place for them would be on the walls!”

“You’re right, shit,” Plagg cursed, “okay, clear the area as best you can! And none of you fucking die! That’s an order! We didn’t mostly survive outside the wall to die in our city!” He called before he dived off the wall.

Marinette looked over and nodded at Adrien, he frowned as he noticed her face was blurry, what was wrong with his eyes? He blinked, watching as the 17 year old girl change between blinks, shrinking down to the small girl he knew 5 years ago. Her strong, developed body now a small skinny, frail body, her short pigtails now her long black curtains. “What…” He gasped, staggering back as she frowned at him, dropping her blades slightly.

“Adrien?” Her voice was higher pitched, softer, and she had no scar. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

Adrien tripped and fell back, dropping his blades as they clattered on the stone, “M-Mari?” She blinked and walked over to him, kneeling down and placing a hand on his forehead, her soft, small hand feeling so foreign compared to her calloused hand he knew. She was so small, her long hair framing her face.

He cried out and scrambled back as suddenly her cheek started tearing open, a long wound opening where her scar is, but she wasn’t reacting, she just crouched there, watching him with empty eyes. Blood dripped to the floor, he watched it splatter in slow motion and suddenly he was falling. Marinette above him, he cried out and went to grab his gear but it was gone, he reached out for Marinette, he had to make sure she made it. “Marinette!” he cried out before something grabbed him, knocking the breath from his lungs.

He gasped and watched as Marinette fell straight into a Titans mouth, this titan was crouched on its haunches, blonde hair and an ugly face, bright blue eyes that looked evil and a mouth full of jagged, sharp teeth. The 17 year old Marinette now hanging half out of the jaw, staring at him with wide eyes, her ribbons falling from her hair. Adrien blinked before he screamed out, desperately reaching for her and fighting against the titan that had hold of him, tears streaming down his face.

He was pulled away and came face to face with the titan who had long black hair, no lips just teeth, a determined expression and piercing green eyes. He was glaring at Adrien, a first for him, seeing a titan with emotion besides hunger. The titan was at least 15 metres and had an extremely muscled body.

Why wasn’t he eating Adrien? What was going on?

“Wake up!” He heard a deep, rumbling voice from the titan, “wake up, Adrien! Remember what he did! Wake up!”

Adrien cried out and sat straight up in his sleeping bag, he was covered in sweat, his hair soaked and his shirt sticking to him. He was breathing heavily and shaking. What the hell was that?

“Adrien?” He gasped and looked to the side, meeting Marinette’s tired eyes. She was in her white long sleeve shirt and her white trousers, her messy hair down falling over her shoulders. It had grown over the few months since they had begun training, she constantly complained about it. “What’s wrong? Did you have a bad dream?” She asked, crawling over to him and sitting on his sleeping bag, avoiding the cold grass.

They were camped out on exercise in the Giant Forest deep within Wall Rose, it had been a long gruelling day training with their ODM gear and everyone was exhausted, their squad consisted of Nino, Alya, Marinette, Kim, Juleka, Luka, Alix and Rose. They were all asleep under the stars, spread out over their area, the embers still burning from their fire from hours before.

He gulped and tried to calm his breathing, nodding at her question. He pushed himself up to a more comfortable position and buried his face in his shaking hands, rubbing his face to wake himself up more. He felt a hand on his back, the feeling calming him.

“Y-yeah… It was… it was weird.” He whispered, moving his hands from his face and staring down at his calloused skin.

“Tell me about it.” She whispered, placing a hand over his, his eyes whipping up and meeting hers. He must have woken her up, “I find it helps when I talk about my nightmares, Alya says it helps take back control of a place that you had no control of.” She spoke softly, softer than her now more serious tone she had developed over the past few months. These moments were only for her close friends he had noticed.

He took a deep breath, examining her face. The dream flooding back with a gasp. “I saw… You.” She blinked, “but you were older, a little taller, you were… in a scouts uniform.” She frowned, “but that’s not the main thing, the titans had breached the wall and were in Trost. I got to the top of the wall and I saw you. And Plagg.” He looked away, “Everyone was dead, titans were everywhere.” He dropped his hands to the floor and clenched them, gripping the rough material of his sleeping bag, “you were staring at me and then… you changed… to 2 years ago.” She tilted her head, “you were so small, and… your scar just appeared but it was like you were being cut open and then…” He froze, his eyes widening as he remembered the titans. “There were titans…”

“You said they had infested Trost? So, I’m not surprised.” She whispered gently, bringing her knees to her chest and hugging them.

“They were different.” His voice shook slightly, “I… you were… eaten by one that I had never heard of, it’s nothing they have told us about in lectures. I saw you, the older you, being eaten. The titan was like a wild animal, it seemed to watch me, it seemed like it was… excited to eat you.” He gulped, “And I was grabbed by one…” He remembered looking at the titan, it seemed so familiar. “It told me to wake up and-“ he gasped, looking at her, “he told me to remember something.” He hissed, rubbing a hand over his mouth. “It felt so real.”

Marinette watched him worriedly before she laid a hand on his cheek, making him look at her, “hey, it was just a dream. The titans won’t get into Trost, and I have no ambition to get eaten, so don’t worry.” She smiled small, her tired eyes crinkling at the corners in a way that always made his heart jump. “And with those titans, we have been going through a lot of training and learnt a lot about the titans that we never knew over the past six months.” She smiled wider, one of her now rare smiles, making his heart jump even more and his eyes widen, “it’s just a dream, it’s not reality, so don’t worry, okay?”

Adrien looked at her with parted lips, thinking over her words before he gulped, his Adams apple bobbing, “yeah… you’re right.” He said looking back down at his hands, “it just… felt so real. Plagg was there.”

“Your brother?” She asked softly.

“Yeah, no one knows though so don’t say anything.” He said in a panic, looking around.

“I know, I haven’t said anything.” She replied, “Tikki told me in a letter about it.” Adrien blinked at her, “your secret is safe with me.”

He smiled, “thank you.” He said before taking a deep breath, “also thank you… for helping calm me down, I’m okay now.” He said, meeting her eyes.

She smiled and nodded, “no worries,” she said before she started to get back up. Adrien panicked and grabbed her arm gently, causing her to gasp and look back at him.

“Could… I’m sorry, I just… could you lie with me for a bit.” He asked softly, his eyes begging her softly.

Marinette looked at him in surprise before gulping and nodding, “okay, just for a bit though, okay?” She said before she crawled over, he instinctively opened the sleeping bag, surprising her. She took a deep breath and slipped in, lying on her side and facing him as he lay down, their faces inches from each other. “I’m here.” She whispered with a small smile.

“Thank you,” he whispered, looking into her eyes before he looked down at her scar, remembering his dream. He knew not to try touch her scar, someone had tried to a month before and she broke their arm in return, shocking everyone but her three friends, they had seen how tough she was. It honestly impressed Adrien, she was so small but so strong. “Can you promise me something?” He asked softly, meeting her eyes again.

“Depends.” She replied, making him chuckle at her usual seriousness.

“Just, promise me, if things get bad in the future you will make sure you survive.” He whispered, feeling her hand brush against him.

“What?” She frowned, “you know I can’t promise that.”

“You can though, no matter the situation, just… just try to survive, no matter what.”

She stared at him with a frown before she chewed her lip, “I will promise to do my best to survive, okay?”

He sighed in relief, his eyelids heavy, “okay. Thank you.” He replied with a smile.

They spoke for the next half hour before they both fell asleep, Adrien resting his cheek on Marinette’s head as she rested it on his shoulder unknowingly.

oOo

“Agreste!” Marinette heard someone yell, turning her attention to the trees in the distance in front and Nino, what was going on now. They had been out in the forest now for a week and tensions were high, they had slept on the hard floor and had hunted their own food. As of today, their supplies were running low and they all could use a nice shower, all of them now used to the smell of sweat and BO from each other. It had been a long week but this was their training. It was meant to make them bond, and it was working… For some people that was. “What the hell was that?”

Their squad was split up currently throughout the forest in pairs, Marinette was paired with Nino, Alya with Rose, Alix with Kim and Adrien with Luka. So far the pairs were working for the most part. Well, two pairs were anyway. They had been awake for over twenty four hours now as their training mission had gone on longer as no one had completed it, so everyone was on edge, some taking it harder than others. Nino and she had been working brilliantly together, they had found three of the hidden Titan props just that day and were confident in their abilities when slicing the napes. The only thing stopping their progress was the constant bickering echoing through the forest. If it wasn’t Kim winding up Alix over a competition it was Adrien and Luka surprisingly butting heads.

“Oh no, what now?” Nino groaned, turning to Marinette who was so done with all of the fighting currently that she was ready to abandon them in the giant trees and go find Alya with Nino. She was at her wits ends with the boys in the squad, well besides Nino who had stayed his normal calm self. The boys had seemed to have some pissing competition on who can piss her off the most today. Too much testosterone probably. Fucking boys. “Come on, let’s go see what’s going on.” He said before he flew into the air, Marinette sighing and releasing a wire, flying forward between the trees, her hair blowing backwards, and soon landing on a large branch, looking forward and seeing Adrien and Luka in each other’s faces. Again.

She sighed and curled her lip up in distain, she got that the titan props were really hard to find and you were being graded individually despite the pairings, but if you worked together you could even them out and each still earn good grades. So, this behaviour wasn’t accepted in her books. With clenched fists she looked at the pathetic show of masculinity in front of her.

“What? I took a shot, that’s what we are meant to do!” Adrien argued, frowning at the older boy. Luka was taller than Adrien, and bigger, but he was a gentle soul who rarely got angry or seemed threatening. So, seeing him like this, his face thunder, his blue eyes full of rage with black bags under them and his teeth gritting together was a weird sight. Even seeing Adrien so angry was odd, his hair was a mess, and his green eyes were narrowed, a scowl on his face, almost like when a child had a tantrum, but in this case the children had flesh slicing blades. Nino just rolled his eyes and let out a groan.

“You jumped in front of me! I could have hit you!” Luka replied through gritted teeth, his knuckles white as he gripped onto the handle of his blades tighter.

“Well, you should look around before jumping into action then.” Adrien frowned and sheathed his blades into the heavy metal carriers on his waist.

Marinette rolled her eyes and jumped over to the branch, stepping in the middle as Nino pulled Adrien aside. She turned and looked up at Luka with a hand on his chest, frowning at him, “Luka, come on, this is ridiculous now. We need to stay calm. We can’t be fighting over every single prop we find!” She said firmly, Luka’s expression softening as he looked down at her. “We are all tired, okay?” She turned and saw Adrien glaring at them, Nino talking to him in hushed tones while glancing back at Marinette. “Adrien, calm down!” She scolded, “if the commandant saw this you two would be stuck out here just the two of you for another week to hash it out like dogs!”

Adrien huffed and shook off Nino, “sorry.” He muttered, looking away with a frown. Marinette eyed him, he did look very out of it today. She wondered if he had those nightmares again.

“It’s fine, let’s just get today over with, dude.” Nino replied, rubbing his shoulder. “My body needs a bath, even if I have to jump in the river, I don’t care, my body is beaten.” He moaned with a sigh.

“You need to be more careful, Adrien. It isn’t safe jumping out like that, it’s reckless.” Luka reprimanded, his older, wiser voice back to its calm self.

Adrien looked over at him before he shrugged, “sorry, I just want this day to be over.” He said with a sigh, looking over at Marinette with apologetic eyes. She swore if he had comedic animal ears, they would be drooping.

“We all do, dude, but you guys need to be chill, like dudette and me!” Nino said cheerfully, looking over at Marinette who nodded.

“Are you two going to work together or do we need to switch partners?” Marinette asked, looking between the teen boys. “Because I will hit the next person who pisses me off!” She threatened before they all froze, all of their eyes turning to the south as they heard someone coming on ODM gear, she heard it before she felt the boot to her chest, kicking her off the branch at high speed, the impact sending her spinning as she fell. She screamed as she started falling, they were 35 feet up, a fall from that high and she would be dead. Shit! Get control!

She swivelled her body to face up and release a wire but couldn’t make out a target without accidentally hitting someone. She heard the boys screaming her name but it was getting further and further. She looked down and saw a branch approaching, bracing for a hard impact but instead a solid body hit her from the side, knocking the wind from her lungs. She wrapped her arms around their arm as she was suddenly going back up, the forest whizzing around her. Before she knew it she hit solid wood and rolled on the large branch, skidding to a halt when she hit the tree, coughing as she did. She looked up and saw Nino crouched in front of her, blades drawn and his face twisted in anger, his lazy side gone in an instant.

“Not fucking cool, Chloe! You can fuck off too, Lila!” He yelled, slamming his blades together as a threat.

Marinette pushed up, coughing again as two bodies joined them on the new branch, Adrien at her side in seconds, skidding on his knees to her side and allowing her to rest against his shoulder as she hunched over in pain.

“What the fuck was that?” Luka asked as he looked around, his own blades drawn, glancing at Marinette with wide eyes.

“Fucking Chloe and Lila. We bumped into them earlier and took their titans, they were not pleased.” Nino growled, his golden eyes scanning for any possible threats. “Those bitches, Marinette, you okay?” He called back.

She coughed, “yeah… Give me a minute.” She answered, her hands clasped over her right side of her chest, a muddy footprint outlined on her jacket and shirt. “Son of a bitch.” She growled, Adrien rubbing her back gently, not saying a word.

“Next time you make some enemies, can it not be the two crazy chicks in our regiment, Marinette?” Luka called out with a frown, lowering his blades.

“Sorry.” She wheezed out, leaning back against the trunk behind her, shimmying her arm out of her jacket with Adrien’s help.

“Shit, she got you good.” He whispered as he gently pulled it off her arm, frowning as he saw some blood on her shirt. “I’ve gotta clean wherever she’s cut you, she must have gone down to the ground and got mud on her shoes on purpose, who knows what else was on that shoe.” He said, looking at her face. She nodded, wincing at the pain.

“With my luck she managed to find some horse crap or something.” She said before she coughed again, damn, she really did get her good. Adrien frowned as he examined her face with his worried green eyes, rubbing her back again. “Who knew getting kicked in the chest would hurt so much.” She joked, the boys looking over at her and chuckling, all besides Adrien. He reached over and undid the strap across her chest, starting to undo her shirt, Nino looking away as usual, not phased anymore, but it was Luka who blinked and went red.

“What the hell are you doing?” He questioned, turning away as Marinette’s skin was starting to show. All three of them looked at him in surprise. Marinette blinked and looked down, was he… embarrassed? She would have expected it at the beginning of their training but they were halfway through their first year, most of them had showered in their underwear together during a mission or at least gone swimming in a river three months ago when they were out in the field. They had got used to patching people up as well, hell just two months ago while on a training mission a cadet slipped off a branch above Marinette and cut her back in some dumb luck, Adrien was at her side in seconds like usual. He had patched her up, chatting away like his usual cheerful self as she sat in a bra, letting him chat away like an excited kitten. The cut on her back wasn’t serious enough to stop her training, but it was enough to bug her for a month.

“I’m patching her up?” Adrien said in confusion, his finger stopping on the third button, staring at the dark haired boy. “Wait, you have… done first aid on someone before, right?” He questioned with a chiding laugh. “Because if you need the practice…”

“Yes I have!” He snapped, “But not… on…” Luka trailed off with a gulp.

“A girl?” Marinette finished with a raised brow. Luka nodding, “how is that possible?” She asked with a wince as Adrien went back to back on undoing her shirt carefully, glancing over at his green eyes that were focused on the task at hand.

“I didn’t have any girls get injured around me… in that area,” he replied calmly, his back to them all. “It’s not that big a deal, okay?”

Nino shrugged, “don’t worry, after a while you get used to it,” he reassured him, sheathing his blades and sitting on the edge of the branch, swinging his legs. “Besides, the girls don’t care anymore, so chillax.” He said before stretching his arms out above him with a yawn.

Luka huffed before sitting down with his back to them, his knees bent in front of him. “are you okay, Marinette?”

Marinette had her shirt open now, her grey sports bra showing, brown stains forming from the mud. She had a few punctured from maybe some stones stuck in Chloe’s boot, but nothing serious, Adrien was cleaning her off gently, his fingers brushing against her soft skin. “Yeah, I’m okay. I can breathe again thankfully. She’s in the other squad, so why the hell is she all the way out here? Surely they didn’t come looking for us?” She asked before lifting her arm at Adrien’s instruction.

Nino looked around before looking back at Marinette, “they are crazy, remember. Once you’re all patched up I think we just finish the mission so we can get back.” He said, “I don’t like how confident they are in the trees.” He frowned and looked around again.

“It was a very bold move on her part.” Adrien spoke up, pulling Marinette’s bra strap to the side to stick a plaster over the one puncture wound, “it could have ended a lot more badly, if Nino hadn’t caught you…” He trailed off, the other two boys staying silent too.

“Don’t worry, let’s just get this mission done. I want my bed.” She replied, dropping her head back against the tree.

Soon they were on their feet again, Marinette’s shirt buttoned up and she was rolling her shoulder, the pain in her chest now more muscular than anything. She looked around the forest and turned to Nino, “okay, Nino, get the map out.” She said walking over to him, Luka and Adrien were pouting at each other in defiance behind them, not saying a word to each other.

Nino pulled out the map they had been given and they started strategizing their next move, deciding on a route and Marinette looked back at the two boys and sighed.

“Okay, seriously, stop with the dick measuring!” She called over, placing a hand on her hip and frowning at them.

“We aren’t-” Adrien started to protest.

“She’s right, dude.” Nino interrupted, he rubbed his black bagged eyes and frowned, “Mari, I will take Luka, you go with Adrien, let’s just get this done.” He was getting frustrated, she could tell. Probably that they had to split up as partner more than the other boys causing problems.

“What? Why?” Luka protested with a frown, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I’m fine with that.” Adrien said with a cocky smile, looking over at Marinette who watched them all with annoyed eyes. Luka turned and glared at Adrien, pouting slightly.

“Whatever, come on Adrien.” Marinette said, placing a hand on Nino’s arm and smiling apologetically, who responded with the same look. Dammit! Her best partner to date and she had lost him. Well, she was yet to be partner’s with Adrien so let’s see how it goes.

“Okay, I will see you guys back at camp. Look out for crazy bitches.” Nino said before he called for Luka, flying off to the east together.

Marinette turned to Adrien who was looking sheepish now, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at him.

“I can explain.” He said, holding his hands up in surrender. “I got carried away, and I’m sorry!” He squeaked as Marinette walked towards him, her eyes dark. “M-Mari?” He blinked. She stood in front of him for a few seconds before she smacked his arm, “ow!” He cried out in protest, rubbing his arm and frowning at her.

“What the hell, Adrien!” She exclaimed, “why are you acting like Kim today of all days?” She questioned with a frown. “Best not to threaten the guy bigger than you who has blades, ya know!”

“Hey, I had blades too.” He pouted, crossing his arms over his chest.

“That isn’t the point, I know you are tired, but we all are, okay?” She said with a sigh, looking up at him. “I don’t want to have to save you constantly. You have a bad habit of getting in the way of danger.” Her face softened, thinking of him going the extra mile to help and save others the past six months during the ODM training.

He sighed and rubbed the back on his neck, “I’m sorry, M’lady.” He said before he chewed his lip, thinking for a moment before pulling out the map, “now, where to next?”

oOo

“Marinette!” Alya spotted her as her and Adrien landed a little way from the meeting point. They looked exhausted, a footprint standing out on the right side of her chest. Marinette had her usual annoyed expression on her face, dark black eyes as she started towards Alya and Nino, and Adrien was his usual excited puppy, a smile on his face as he waved at them happily, he had a bruise on his jaw and his hair was a shaggy mess.

Marinette lifted her eyes and spotted Alya, smiling an exhausted smile. Alya ran over to her and hugged her tight, Marinette yelping and curling her back slightly. “Ouch.” She winced.

“Oh, sorry, Nino told me what happened.” She said pulling away, walking with them as Nino and Adrien bumped fists.

“Calmed down now, dude?” He asked Adrien who laughed and nodded.

Alya turned and smacked Adrien on the arm, causing him to look at her flabbergasted, “Ow! Can you two stop hitting me today?” He exclaimed, rubbing his arm, looking at them in bewilderment.

“You were meant to protect her!” She growled, hugging her best friend close and glaring at Adrien.

“She was Nino’s partner!” He exclaimed, motioning to a laughing Nino. “Sorry I wasn’t on the watch for flying crazy girls!”

“I’m fine, Alya.” Marinette spoke up, poking the arm around her face. “Can you let go now?” She asked, Alya blinking and letting her go. “Doesn’t matter now, Nino had me. Now let’s go.” She said, rolling her shoulder again and walking to the others.

The commandant arrived minutes later, everyone jumping to their feet and coming to attention, their fists over their hearts.

“Well, look at you.” He started, “you all smell like shit.” He curled his lip in disgust, walking between them. “I have been watching you the past week, and I was not surprised by how disappointing you all are.” He glared at them all, eyes falling on Marinette, “some excelled, some were god damn awful, and some, well, some missed the point of the exercise all together! I will give you your grades tomorrow in lesson, understood?”

“Yes, sir!” They called out.

“Now, you all stink, you aren’t coming back to my base smelling like this. There is a lake east of here, wash up and then head back. I expect you all home by 2100hrs.” He said before he walked over to his horse, climbing on and looking back at them. “And, no more of your childish bickering! I saw enough to last me a lifetime this week!” He said before he galloped off.

They all relaxed and made their way to the horses grazing, this was only Marinette’s class which consisted of 2 squadrons. Marinette preferred it this way as she wasn’t used to the other class just yet. She made her way to her horse and climbed on, stroking his mane. Soon they were all heading to the lake, all excited to get clean. Marinette looked over the big green world around her, the orange sky making it all look so peaceful.

“Hey, Marinette!” Alya called, bringing her out of her daze, looking over at her friend. “Race you.” She grinned, Marinette grinning back before kicking the side of her horse, feeling the wind blow through her hair as they both charged forward, giggling in joy.

Not fifteen minutes later they arrived, hopping off their horses and tying them up. They both stood there with wide eyes, looking over the blue, sparkling lake.

“Wow…” Alya breathed before their serenity was interrupted by Adrien and Nino barrelling past them in their underwear, shoving each other and laughing before jumping into the lake, water splashing everywhere as the girls tried to avoid getting wet.

They both chuckled as others started jumping in, it was rare they had this kind of freedom to act like teenagers, so when it came, they took advantage. Marinette quickly discarded her ODM gear and started undoing her shirt, her body buzzing with excitement to relax in the water. She pulled it off and shoved it into the bag on her saddle, wriggling out of her white trouser until she was in just her grey sports bra and her black boy short underwear, unravelling the bandaged on her chest, leaving just the ones stuck to her on. Alya was next to her in the same but hers were black completely. Both of them took their hair down before they ran and jumped in, the boys splashing them as they came up.

Marinette laughed and went under again, enjoying the cold water on her aching body, her eyes closed as she felt her hair brushing against her skin as it floated about. This was bliss to her. She came back up and pushed her hair back, looking at her friends with a laugh. It was funny, just 6 months ago she was scared to show off her scar, now here she was, skin showing, and she didn’t care. It was amazing what confidence and trust in your comrades could do. She looked over and spotted Luka with his friends, Kim, Ivan and Alix. He seemed to be more relaxed which was good, he looked over and spotted her, smiling and waving at her. She waved back before she was splashed with water, her hair falling over her face.

She spun around and saw Alya grinning at her as she pushed her hair back again, laughing softly. It was like that for a while, but soon Marinette was floating on her back, staring up at the sky. The orange had started to turn pink, some stars shining through in defiance. It was beautiful. It was a place of peace.

“Hey.” She heard a voice say next to her, turning her head and spotting Adrien. He was standing next to her, his shoulders above the water. “How’s your chest?” He asked softly as she floated back to up right, she couldn’t stand so she had to tread water.

“A little sore but it feels a lot better now.” She replied, rubbing a hand over the now dark bruise over the right side of her chest, “I’ll live.” She joked, bobbing up and down.

“Good, just keep an eye on it, and be careful of Chloe and Lila, they really have it out for you.” He said worriedly before noticing she couldn’t stand, “here.” He said before holding his arm out for her to hold on to. She blinked before placing both her hands on his warm skin, using his arm to stay afloat better. “Better?”

“Yeah, thank you… And I’m not too worried about them, they will get theirs.” She said looking over at the girls who were whispering to each other, scowls on their faces. She knew they hated how close she was to Adrien, Lila countless times mentioning how she was a better friend for Adrien, Marinette knew they both had crushes on him too. Hell, most of the girls in the regiment did.

“Still, I don’t like having to keep patching you up,” he smiled sweetly at her, his brows creased slightly, “you have a habit of getting hurt, for someone who graceful in the air you sure are clumsy.”

She laughed softly at that, his cheeks going red when she did, “what can I say, I just have a clumsy side when I’m not in fight mode. Maybe I have two sides to me, like alter egos.” She joked, “I mean you have it, outside of training or when you aren’t with me you’re this sweet, can do no wrong guy, but put your uniform on and give you your weapons and this confident cocky side comes out.” She teased, poking his nose.

He blinked before he smirked and leant forward, “Is that so, M’lady? I haven’t heard you complain about it.”

She rolled her eyes and laughed, “see, there it is. You’re like… hmmm,” she thought, “you’re like a cat, one minute you’re nice, and the next you are ready to fight dirty.” She smirked as he raised a brow.

“Are you calling me a cat?” He asked in confusion.

“Hmm, yes, yes I am.” She said confidently, the water lapping at her neck. “I think I might just call you kitty from now on. Seeing as you have your nickname for me.” She smirked even more at her frown.

He frowned as he thought for a minute before he smiled brightly, “I love it! M’lady has a nickname and now so do I.” He leant in closer with a smirk, “quite the pair, aren’t we?” He wiggled his eyebrows at her while she frowned at him before she shoved his head under water playfully watching him come back up with his shaggy hair covering his eyes as he pouted, her laugh filling the air. “No fair!” She carried on laughing as he pushed his hair back into a mess, pouting at her before he tackled her, arms wrapping around her body as he pushed her under, pushing up on the ground and emerging with her over his shoulder on shallower ground, walking to Alya and Nino who were laughing at the scene in front of them.

Adrien grinning victoriously as Marinette smacked Adrien’s toned back to put her down, water from her hair over her eyes. He soon lifted her up again and placed her on his knee as he sat next to Nino, a smug look on his face. “I won.” He said, Marinette pouting at him with her arms across her chest, perching on his bent knee, blushing slightly at their bodies being so close. She looked over at her friends and felt peace, it had been a long six months, but… this made it all worth it. She was happy, and she belonged. She looked at Adrien who was watching her, she blinked and poked his nose again, smiling at him finally.

“Ease there, kitty.” She said softly, “don’t get too excited.” He blinked before smiling a sweet smile at her, making her heart skip a beat.

[spectrumed]

10. contact

The key to success is networking. Oh, God, how am I ever going to succeed? Networking? Talking to other people? Making friends? That’s not me, that’s not me at all. I don’t want to make superficial connections with other people just so that I can one day use my connections to get ahead in life. I don’t want to force myself on others, trying to convince them that I am some decent guy that’s totally worth getting to know and be friends with. I don’t know if you’re going to like me or not. I imagine some people would like to be my friend, and I imagine some people would hate to be my friend. I’d rather just forget about the latter group, and not torture myself trying to make friends with people who are fundamentally at odds who I am as a person. I’d rather have a small circle of close friends than a thousand acquaintances. But the key to success is networking.

I’ll never be an insider. This is not me just doubting myself, not some decision to undermine myself. I know that making statements about things that are impossible for you to achieve comes across as very self-defeating, but I know that I will never be an insider. I will never fit into a social clique. I am not going to be part of the boys’ club, yucking it up with my mates. I’m not going to be in any gangs, no bands, most certainly no crews. I am a solo-player. I prefer to work on my own. All my life, I’ve kept to myself, one way or another. I don’t ask for help. Growing up, my sister used to get a lot of help from my mother with school assignments, because she wanted it and she asked for it. My sister and my mother would spend a lot of time together making sure that my sister’s schoolwork turned out well. Looking over spelling, fixing grammatical errors, making sure that the text was easy to read and had a flow to it. Normal parental stuff, really. Kids are supposed to get help from their parents, it’s part of the learning process, no-one gets by all on their own. Well, except for me. I never asked for help.

I actually found it really unbearable to have my mother look over my schoolwork to see if I made any errors. Not because I am such a horrid narcissist that I refuse to admit that there were any errors, but rather because… well, it felt invasive. Like as if you spot someone spying on you through your window. It made me feel very self-conscious, in a way that I realise now is similar to how I feel when I make eye contact. Yes, I am bad at making eye contact, especially when I am speaking at the same time. I don’t mind making eye contact when you are speaking, but I don’t want to make eye contact with you when I am speaking. Is that funny? Is that odd? Well, the way I feel about it is that eye contact is intimate, it’s almost like touching. It’s mental touching. If you share eye contact with somebody you are sharing a connection. You are mind-touching each other. Oh, well… I guess that maybe it’s not quite like that, but I still don’t find it easy.

At times, I find much of the discussions about neurodiversity online somewhat off-putting. Especially when it comes to those people who are really keen on being all out positive, all the time. Those people who see any shade of negativity as outright hazardous. Don’t bring up the fact that being neurodivergent can be difficult, don’t mention the difficulties that come with being on the autism spectrum. Engage with self-empowerment! Celebrate what makes you different! Go out there and be proud of yourself, be happy about your autism, it is cool to be autistic! And, sure, I understand the importance of injecting optimism into the neurodivergent community. We need optimism, we need to profess our desire to be happy, to show the world that you don’t need to be neurotypical to be content with your life. No-one wants to be around a sourpuss just wallowing in their discontentment. But, sometimes things just suck, okay? Having a positive attitude may project confidence, may make others think you’ve got it together, but be wary when that positive attitude just becomes a mask you hide behind.

Look, we live in a society. Whether you like it or not, you live in a society. We need to rage against this society, because this society is no good. Things may look good to some people, but those people are wrong, and I am right. I’m mad as hell and I’m not going to take it anymore! Let’s have ourselves a little revolution and see if we can piece a new society together, one that doesn’t commit to the same mistakes as the last one. Oh, wait, how do we do that? And how do we make sure that we win the revolution, we could easily lose, and that might actually just make things worse for us. What if this society we live in got even worse? Yikes, that’s a thought too scary to even really consider. Can things get worse? I don’t want things to get worse. Maybe I just shouldn’t rock the boat. Let’s calm down, and let’s not make any rash decisions here. We can overthrow society at some other point. For now, let’s just have some tea.

Yes, society stinks, but what can you do about it? It is absolutely the case that neurotypical people have it easier navigating modern society than neurodivergent people. Others expect you to function just like they function. If you wish to fit in, you are required to act more neurotypical. People expect that from you. Learn to adapt, to hide amongst them. Trick them. Make them think you are one of them. Be the wolf in sheep’s clothing. They’ll never know the truth of who you are. An outsider that managed to get on the inside. You stand by the watercooler, and by gosh, you make yourself laugh at their jokes even though you’d rather not be there at all. You partake in the small talk, talking about the weather, feigning interest in the footballs, and pretending to be an all-around wholesome compatriot. You’re not at all secretly some kind of anti-social misfit, who’d rather stay at home sitting behind a monitor and playing strategy games on your own. Do you want to come and join your workmates for a drink or two later? Oh, yes, of course you’d like that, but you might need to limit your alcohol intake so that you don’t get too drunk and begin to let the mask slip. It’s too easy getting into hyper-specific rants about obscure topics no normal person would care about when you’re inebriated, so let’s not risk that.

“Be yourself.” Pfth, bah, humbug. Neurotypicals love to state empty platitudes. You don’t want me to be myself. You’ve made it very clear that you don’t want me to be myself. Call me a cynic all you want, but you can’t get nowhere in life simply by being yourself. For better or worse, authenticity is nowhere near as desired as some people make it out to be. Name a single really successful person who is truly themselves. Fake-authenticity does better than the real deal. True sincerity, of the kind that’s naked, shameless, ugly, and challenging, it is difficult to love. And that’s not all bad, it’s just a fact of life. We all need to cover some things about ourselves up, and need to keep some secrets, because that is what is expected from us. Just as we wear clothes to cover up our naked bodies. No shame on the nudists, they’re free to embrace whatever alternative lifestyle they want, but I don’t want to see your naked body. Don’t get nude in front of me. I already struggle with eye contact, I sure wouldn’t struggle less if you stood in front of me nude as well.

Actually, to a certain extent, these social rules we all conform to can actually be quite appreciated by those of us who are on the spectrum. It is easier to know what you must do in a formal social situation than in a casual social situation. Casual people, they’re just so… unpredictable. Sticking their casual bits everywhere, acting like guests at your house who don’t seem to understand that your home is not their home. Even as a kid I hated having friends of mine over at my place. They’d play with my toys, place my toys where they don’t belong, or even worse, they may break some of my toys. Don’t touch that, it’s mine. Don’t put your icky hands on my bed, I sleep there. Don’t rip pages out of that book, it’s my favourite book. Don’t breathe in my room, I breathe in my room. I just can’t handle you coming here and disturbing the peace. I had it all ordered, I knew where everything was, and I liked it. Now you brought with you the forces of chaos, and dealing with that is just now what I had in mind for today.

I could never be a freemason. Sure, I have some good ideas for how to secretly rule the world, but if you’re a freemason, you’re expected to be part of the team. There’s no “I” in freemasonry. The secret cabal that controls all of the world’s governments, they don’t want independent folks like me to show up thinking that I can do my work assignments on my own. The Illuminati is run by a committee. You don’t get far in that world by being some freewheeling bohemian incapable of getting along with others. You don’t establish a New World Order by promoting self-reliance. Institutions are great for those who like to get chummy with their pals, the gregarious sorts who know exactly who to talk to in order to advance in the ranks. You scratch my back, and I’ll scratch yours. Favours for favours. One of the reasons why I inherently distrust many institutions is because they are rife with nepotism. You know that whoever gets to sit on the high council of the Illuminati didn’t get there via competency alone. No, they knew a guy, who was cousins with this other guy, who used to work for this guy, and y’know, you pull one string and suddenly there you are on top of the social hierarchy. Most often people get promoted, not because they do good work, but because they happen to know the right people. But again, maybe I’m just being cynical.

I’ve had a recurring fantasy, in the past, of being a lighthouse keeper. Living out somewhere all on my own, not having to deal with any human relationships. Maybe I could befriend a seagull, but even that seems a little too much. Seagulls can be very needy. No, I’d just get on with whatever I’d most like to be doing, writing or making art, just enjoying my solitude. I imagine that the toughest thing about being a lighthouse keeper is the loneliness, but the loneliness is only a plus for me. I’ve long ago decided to like being lonely. I don’t want to face the fact that I too yearn for company, I like to pretend as if I am fine with being alone. So the fantasy of being a lighthouse keeper is perfect for me, I could get far away from society and I could earn a living not having to give a fuck about what others think about me. I could allow myself to get as weird as I would want to get, not having to wash my image, acting like I’m all rational and well-adjusted. It would just be me and my seagull. How simple life would be. Too bad I think most lighthouses are automated, these days.

Maybe being the perpetual malcontent cynic incapable of fitting with mainstream society isn’t all so bad. In some regards, I have made that my brand. Generally, I like to think that I don’t take myself too seriously, but like a lot of people, I’ve turned those edgier parts of my personality into armour that I wear to protect myself from the scorn of others. You can’t accuse me of being a miserable piece of shit when I’ve decided to make being a miserable piece of shit my thing. It’s what I am, and I am not going to change. I’m not really all that mean, or nasty. I am fairly cynical, but I don’t act like some asshole. I don’t think anyone is upset with me for how I act. I’ve only occasionally gotten told off for being too gloomy. But the problem here does not lie with how I end up treating others, but rather how I end up treating myself. I don’t want to make cynicism part of my sense of self. I don’t want to be this person, this misanthrope who only sees problems, and never celebrates the good things in life. I should engage with self-empowerment. I should be happy.

It’s okay being neurodivergent! Sure, you may find other people strange or foreign, with their yapping mouths and their over-eager desire to look you directly in the eyes, but just ignore them! Neurotypicals are just so last century, the future is all neurodivergent! You’re on the right side of history, bud! You’re cool, and radical, and you’re absolutely a sexy little cupcake. You either learn to love yourself, or you lose yourself. Make funny memes, find some online community to be a part of. You can absolutely be a freemason if you want to be a freemason. Don’t let your diagnosis get in your way, so long as you’ve got that inner fire driving you, you can be anything you want to be. Go ahead and rule the world, babe. Remember, what doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger, and right now, it’s good vibes only.

[danteinthedevildom]

A Royal Pajama Party “Analysis” - Part 7 (of 7)

We’re here! We’re finally at the end of this “analysis”! I did not expect this to be so goddamn long. Apparently I had more thoughts on this Devilgram than even I originally intended. 

That said, this concluding part really just takes a peek at another “alternate timeline”. The Devilgram has several different routes you can go down that drastically changes how your evening goes, so there’s honestly a lot of ground to cover with just how much you get to do. (Which is absolutely why this series is 7 parts long, beyond just “I had too many screenshots to fit in a single post, thanks Tumblr image limit”). 

In this route, you tell Diavolo a story. It’s nothing fascinating; either you tell him an actual story, or - if you act uncertain - he asks you to talk about your day for the sake of talking.  

So, for this final part, once again we’re covering content locked beyond Story Keys. Here’s your last cursory spoiler warning!

(Although we have two potential routes to go down, I’m only going to focus on this one; the one wherein you actually tell him a full story. It’s essentially the same as the other, minus some dialogue before you get started. I don’t have enough images-per-post to show everything, however, and the dialogue missing only emphasises what I’m going to go over - so it’s not too horrific a loss.

I am going to fight Tumblr for more images, however.)

If you confidently go into a story, Diavolo ends up falling asleep listening to it. When he wakes up, this is his response. 

There’s something impossibly sweet about this moment. He doesn’t fall asleep because he’s bored, nor even because he’s tired; if you tell the story another way, he openly admits that he just wants to hear your voice, and that he’d happily listen to you talk forever if he could. He wants to listen to you, then; to cherish your words, how you say them, the story you weave together. 

Your voice is simply so soothing to him, he couldn’t help but nod off. 

There’s a lot this scene says, if I’m being honest. Especially from a literary/media standpoint; it’s a bit of a trope!

See, sleep scenes are usually used to show trust. It’s something that I believe likely stems from the vulnerability of sleep; you don’t let your guard down around someone you feel threatened by, which means you often won’t sleep near or around those people. Instinctively, you’ll try to stay awake, stay alert, stay on edge. 

Therefore, sleep is the best visual way to show absolute, complete trust between two characters. 

It’s highly unlikely that Diavolo has any reason not to feel safe sleeping around you. After all, you’re just a human; anything you could do to him would irritating at worst. But it’s still something that pings in the human brain, a trope we know well enough for it to hit even though it might not ring wholly true. 

Besides, there’s still the chance that demons have that instinct ingrained in them. Their society used to be brutal, and in a lot of ways, it still is; that’s likely not a vulnerability they afford other demons to see unless they’re wholly confident and relaxed. 

For that instinct to not trigger, even with you being a harmless human; for him to so suddenly fall asleep he’s not even aware of it; for him to have been so deeply asleep that waking up is an outright shock... His guard must be completely down around you. 

You must make him feel warm, comfortable, and happy; relaxed enough to fall asleep without a second thought. 

The man himself even confirms it. 

It’s not surprising, after all: he’s the Prince of the Devildom. There’s an image he has to maintain, whether he likes it or not. He has to seem competent, strong, and assertive, at all times, without a single sign of weakness. Especially considering the discontent against the Exchange Programme and his own (relative) instability being a stand-in ruler; he has to ensure, at all times, that he’s seen as a legitimate ruler. 

If he slips up, there are vocal dissenters only likely too willing to drag him down. If he makes a mistake, peace between the Three Realms could fall through. There’s too much at stake for him to fail just because he wanted to be himself. 

It’s a sacrifice he has to make, but one he’s willing to do if it means everything plays out as it should. If it means the Devildom stays strong. If it means his people are safe. If it means his dreams might come true. 

There’s so much of himself that just isn’t safe to show other demons - and even more of himself he simply can’t show, no matter how hard he tries, because nobody is willing to see. 

Diavolo, the demon and Diavolo, Prince of the Devildom are two very different entities. He has to compartmentalise aspects of himself at all times; keep the looser, more casual parts of him locked up tight. 

And then you come along, and the lock crumbles to dust. 

He’s not wholly trying to show you these aspects of himself. Some of them, yes; there’s doubtless a thousand sides you’ve seen to Diavolo that most demons aren’t even aware exist, solely because he wanted to show you - trusted you enough to show you. But there’s equally as doubtless a thousand more sides you’ve seen that were completely unintentional. A thousand hidden parts that have slipped through the cracks, poured out into the light before your eyes, simply because you make him feel comfortable. Make him feel things no other being across the Three Realms has ever made him feel before. 

And he’s not even mad about it. He’s happy. He’s glad he has someone he trusts so much, he’s accidentally revealed all these little aspects of himself. He’s smiling because it means he finally has someone close enough to him to experience all the things he usually tries to hide. 

Because there’s someone, at least, that can see his true self. 

He’s not used to this. He’s really not. It’s genuinely strange to him, how easily he opens up to you. Something he enjoys, yes; something he sees as good, something he’s pleased about, something that brings him genuine happiness - but something that’s still odd. 

He’s however-many thousands of years old, after all. In all that time, he’s not slipped up the way he does with you. Not around demons, not around angels, not around witches or sorcerers and everything in between. He couldn’t afford to. Still can’t, even. 

Then, along comes you, knocking down all his walls in the span of a few years. Walls not even his closest right-hand demons have peeked past. 

And he’s so at east with it - with you - that he doesn’t even mind. Except - 

Why would it be unfair?

Because he wants you to feel that open around him, too.

He wants to see as much of you as you’ve seen of him. 

He doesn’t want another one-sided friendship. He’s already got two of those; he already knows his two closest friends don’t see him the way he sees them. 

He wants something equal. He wants to say he knows someone as well as they know him. He wants to mean it. 

But, more importantly - he wants it to be on your terms. He wants you to want to open up to him. It won’t mean anything if he makes you tell him everything. It’ll just be another forced friendship, and another pained realisation later down the line; another connection he has to worry over day after day, fretting the moment it (potentially) snaps. 

No matter how much he wants to see, he doesn’t want to unless it means he’s special to you. He wants that moment to occur because you view him as someone important; someone you adore, someone you cherish, someone you trust. 

If he can be that special someone to you, he’ll be happy. If you can trust him with those parts of yourself that you hide from the rest of the world - the parts he’s already exposed to you, intentionally and accidentally - he’ll know he’s made it. 

It’s something he’s not had with someone before. Another segment of friendship he’s never experienced. The good, the bad, the ugly - he wants to see it all. Because it’s you. Because he wants to give back to you the things you’ve given him. 

It must be generally exciting, to think about seeing so much of a person when no-one ever lets him get that close. Maybe he’s romanticising it a bit. No, he almost definitely is. But it’s a sweet message, at its core:

You make him feel safe enough to be himself. He wants you to feel the same with him. He doesn’t want you to feel like you have to hide.  

Subtly, of course, he’s restated something we already know. 

If he thinks that you opening up to him makes him special to you...

... Clearly, you’re already special to him. 

You likely have been for some time. 

+++

And... we’re done. That’s the end of the Devilgram, my thoughts on it, and my hatred of Tumblr’s shitty image-per-post limit. I can put this series to rest and let my poor, over-strained brain zonk out for the next week. 

Thanks for reading! Both this post and the series as a whole, if you did; I’ve no idea how future readers might find this, but I’m going to assume someone will have read the lot. Which, you brave fool, I’m so sorry my writing deteriorated as I went on, you have my respect and awe. 

[evilelitest2]

Please don't insult Tsar Nicholas II by comparing him to Stalin. Yes, Nicholas had commited many truly vile shit, but... he wasn't an evil person by heart, just an autistic boy who was unlucky to be born in the position of absolute power in the most corrupt and opressive country in Europe. Unlike him, Stalin wasn't born in absolute power. Stalin has many chances to stop going over Old Bolshevic's heads for absolute power and establishing personality cult of himself, but he didn't.

I mean...he killed a lot of Jews dude. Like his secret police wrote The Elders of Zion, one of his long term goals was to eliminate all the Jews in Russia (the imperial policy was 1/3rd of Jews would be converted, 1/3rd killed, and 1/3rd exiled). like there is a reason why I am not a fan of Tsar Nicholas II. My girlfriend's great grandfather had to flee the country because of the pogroms and then again later when he became an activist. In my mind, Nicholas and Stalin are basically two different flavors of horrible Russian autocrat.

Nicholas was certainly a nicer person than Stalin, he was a caring husband and a good father (in a time period when that was not normal) and he was a friendly affable guy to those around him. Meanwhile Stalin was just kinda a dick to everybody at every moment. But when judging a historical figure, how nice they are and how sweet they were personally doesn't really change their policies. Also like...Nicholas was born into the richest family in the world. Stalin was a disabled ethnic minority born into an abusive household in relative poverty, I'm not really sure why Nicholas being from a super privileged background makes him less of a monster? It's true I feel a lot more sorry for Nicholas than Stalin, since his son was a hemophiliac and his entire family is murdered (which for the record I don't consider acceptable) but if we are talkin about autocracy the fact that Nicholas is more likable shouldn't change the fact that again, killed a lot of Jews.

Now Nicholas II was born into power and personally didn't want to be Tsar but...he was given many many opportunities to give up some amount of power and he didn't. He clung to power in the face of the advice from almost anybody who wasn't an arch royalist super conservative. Even if we compare him to other conservative Monarchists at the time, Nicholas is so stubbornly unwilling to share power that it literally gets him killed. In the last two years of his reign he and his wife prefer to lose the war rather than accept aid from the Duma/Worker's Councils. After the disasters Russo-Japanese war (a war that he caused due to his incompetence and lost due to his incompetence) you have the 1905 revolution where after the death of thousand of people and the crippling of the Russian economy finally gets Russia Duma. And then Nikki's Black Hundreds brutally massacre thousands in order to make the Duma largely a puppet organization, and leads a series of nation-wide pogroms against Jews (who he blamed for all of his own mistakes). And what does he do with this absolute power he so furiously clung too? Help get his country into WWI and then does so badly in that war that his dynasty gets overthrown. And when you get into the details of the Russian Revolution, it becomes clear that Russia could have won WWI and the Romanovs could have kept power had Nikki been at all flexible. He is remarkable in that almost every decision he made as Tsar was the worse possible decision he could have made, it's like the platonic ideal of a bad monarch.

Nicholas was an absolute monarch with a brutal secret police and one of the richest men in the world. And under his administration labor conditions were some of the worse in the Industrialized world, political freedom was denied. None of this was for the good of the empire or anyone really other than himself and his rich friends, its just that Nicholas did it under the name of "tradition". Sure he inherited his horrible state whose national motto was "Orthodoxy, Autocracy, Nationality" but he was an absolute monarch, he could change it if he so choose. And he didn't, when he oversaw two failed wars, two famines, and two revolutions, at no point does he ever take responsibility for his actions and go "Hey maybe I should take steps to prevent the suffering of my people."

In many ways, that is Nicholas II's greatest crime, he would have been happier as a Constitutional Monarch, but because he was so damn stubbornly conservative he wouldn't even change when it was in his self-interest. All of this was avoidable, had he simply accepted the reforms his people so desperately wanted, he could spend more time with his family, not have to worry so much about his heir, and could leave the governance of the empire (which he sucked at) to people who like....were at all good at it. He would have been great as a Constitutional monarch, he could just sit around and be sweet and then hang out with his family, but instead he stubbornly clung unto power and blamed all of his mistakes on the Jews. All to defend a job he didn't even enjoy. It was all....so avoidable, almost everything under his reign didn't need to happen if he had simply accepted reforms rather than retreat into his little fantasy bubble of pure Russian peasants loving their little father the Tsar.

And again, his secret police wrote the Elders of Zion, which is in competition for "Book with the Highest Death Count in History." And this document was written because Nicholas didn't want to share power. A ton of his loyalists are going to end up working for the Nazis.

Now most of Stalin's crimes came out of malice and most of Nicholas' (again, except the violent racism) came out of incompetence, which does matter in terms of understanding their motives and why they were awful, and I don't think Nicholas enjoyed the amount of death he brought the way Stalin did...but like if your family starves to death it doesn't really matter if it was done because the ruler actively was doing it on purpose or was too fucking stupid to understand how a supply chain worked--you are still dead. And in the case of the Jews, Nicholas was intentionally murdering them by the thousands for its own sake. Stalin was also a racist anti-Semite but you don't have full pogroms under his reign until the last year of his reign (and the Doctor's Plot is no in no way comparable to any of Nikki's pogroms). Again, Nicholas loved and encouraged the "Black Hundreds" who were basically Russian fascists.

And Nicholas wasn't just a raging anti-Semite, he was also a white supremacist and a Russian nationalist. Despite being mostly Danish and German himself, with barely any Russian ancestry, Nicholas got super into the whole Russian supremacy thing, and his empire actively tried to wipe out the languages, cultures and religions of the ethnic minorities in his empire, most infamously in Poland, Ukraine, and Georgia. In fact, part of the traumatic childhood that probably made Stalin so bad was getting beaten for speaking Georgian (his native language) in school. And Nicholas' anti-Asian racism led to him buying whole hog into the Yellow Peril conspiracy theory, the original "White Genocide," which was a huge factor in the disastrous Russo-Japanese war (he regularly referred to the Japanese as "yellow monkeys").

Now Stalin did kill a lot more people than Nicholas over he course of his reign, that can't be denied, so at the end of the Day Stalin is worse than Nicholas in my mind. But not by much: Nicholas' regime would have killed more if he was competent enough to pull it off, and his stubborn stupidity in the face of an empire in desperate need of reform still killed millions of people. And what's more he never seemed to care. So getting up in arms about even comparing him to Stalin is ridiculous, revisionist, and probably a little bit classist, as well as implicitly counting the murder of Jews as less bad than the murder of Christians.

[winx-reimagined]

Ships & Relationships in Winx Club| Romantic

ToC

Okay, it's obvious that a lot of the relationships in Winx Club suck. In this specfic post, I'm mainly going over romantic relationships but I'll make another for friendships & family and I'll either squeeze enemies and more gray relationships on that post or they'll have their own post.

The two biggest issue couples, Musa & Riven and Bloom & Sky. At least with Musa and Riven they both tried to better themselves. They were both toxic too, it wasn't only Riven -although it was mostly him.

Riven & Musa.

Riven's selfish, beyond rude, and of course there was that time he bretrayed them. Musa doesn't even try to understand him and she only want to argue back, she just fuels the flame. From what I've seen, neither of them have any mutual hobbies or interests, they can't communicate like friends meaning they sure as hell can't communicate as lovers. As bad as this is, if Winx was more realistic and much more mature, I feel like their relationship would be purely sexual. Which is fine in general, but not so great in a supposedly committted relationship. Just sucks that they're trying to play off a toxic and abusive relationship as "fixing the bad boy."

Speaking about committment... Bloom & Sky.

I hate this couple the most. To be fair, most of us do. At least with Riven and Musa they somewhat learned from their mistakes and were held accountable. But Sky, barely was. I can't remember a time Bloom did anything serious (although I'm pretty sure in one of the dubs for season 4, it was made obvious that she wanted to cheat on Sky), the worst she does is just get really angry -usually for no reason- and refuses to listen. But Sky literally led on two girls.

Despite how close Bloom and him were getting, he never tried to tell her the truth. I don't care if he lies about being a prince because he doesn't want the attention -which is actually pretty stupid because Eraklyon is one of the biggest kingdoms it's strange that no one recognized him like, hmm I don't know, Stella- but that isn't a good enough reason to lie to your bestfriend and girlfriend.

Now him being in an unwanted arrange marriage and cheating, sure. It's like a forbidden love trope and in my books doesn't count as cheating. And I could maybe understand him not saying anything to her since it'd most likely get her in trouble. But I still question why he has that framed picture of Diaspro on his desk 🤔, it's almost as if they're close. Hmm. Sure she could've given it to him but there's no reason he couldn't just throw it out or lay it flat.

Before I move on, I need to talk about their relationship as a whole. They're so similar. Of course, you need similarities to make any relationship work but they're like really similar. They're both peacekeepers -which is ironic to say the least-, they're both agreeable -again, ironic- and this just kind of makes their relationship really boring. Boring doesn't mean there's no drama, there's just no interest. You don't watch the relationship grow like with Stella & Brandon or Aisha & Nabu. They never have any actual conflict nor any actual arc, I can't even call it a linear relationship. How do they relate on anything? Their lives are so different, the most the could talk about is what literally happened three episodes ago. Even if they didn't have these petty issues, it's still be a bad relationship.

More about boring couples... Flora & Helia and Timmy & Tecna

I have more to say about Timmy and Tecna for a different manner but like these two couples are so boring. That's probably because they're mainly in the background. But I do think Flora and Helia are kinda cute, but their kept in the background so much, I literally don't know enough about their relationship to make an actual conclusion about them.

But Timmy & Tecna... 👀, they're okay. My most vibrant memories of their relationship is Tecna constantly calling Timmy weak, pathetic, or a coward. I don't give a fuck how angry you are at someone, that is NOT a reason to constantly abuse them like this. And it is abusive, it doesn't help that Timmy sees Tecna as amazing. He lowkey praises her.

I do like the idea of them being very "emotionless" or not being able to recipicate said emotions very well then learning to open up. This is mostly for Tecna, but there are times Timmy falls under this like when Tecna was stuck in the Phantom zo- I mean Omega dimension. He abandoned any sense of reasoning and only went off his emotions, believeing she was still alive -to be fair, he was right. I actually have very big plans for this dynamic, that mostly has to do with Tecna. I'll be making a post about Tecna's Issue soon 😉, but to say the least, he unlocks more than just her emotions. (I swear if that post comes out before this.. A/N it did)

Aisha & Nabu

Out of all of them, these two are the best relationship. Although it is EXTREMELY weird how they set them up, with Nabu stalking Aisha. The way their relationship grew was beautiful and they were about to get married but then Nabu died. Which I would've enjoyed the tragedy of it, if 1. it meant something afterwards and 2. if it wasn't the only man of color this happened to (not to mention the only black woman is the one to ignore all sense of reason and go apeshit).

Nabu is most likely going to stay alive in my version.

I almost forgot about this one... Brandon & Stella

They're cute. They're one of the best couples in the series. Really the only issue I had with them was their petty arguements which, like any Winx romantic drama, had to do with "cheating." It's stupid that they'd accuse each other of cheating if they're literally comfortable with dozens of people flirting and complienting their partner. They even compete over it. It goes to show how much they trust each other yet they still get in a tizzy when their SO stood near the opposite gender.

I've just noticed something about all the relationships. They characters are matched up with someone who is almost basically the genderbent version of themselves. Bloom & Sky; peaceloving leaders, Stella & Brandon; vain, comical characters; Musa & Riven; damaged goods, punks, and so on. It's not the worst thing you could do, but when it's for all of your characters, yes.

Just to address it, I don't have anything to say about Icy's relationship with Tritannus.

I just realized the best way to describe the Winx relationships, and it's just teenage couples. Their relationships never seem to mature except for Aisha & Nabu's relationship.

Now for the SHIPS! There's many I won't include, just because I don't want this post to be very long and I don't know too much about too many, but maybe I'll come back to them or I can just answer asks.

Were gonna start with the ones I hate :) which isn't many

p.s if you ship any of these more power to you, I just don't like these ships in particular, I'm not attacking you as people.

Bloom X Valtor...

I cannot even begin to dig into this one... alright then, let's begin. To get the moral/ethical issues out of the way. Valtor is much older than Bloom. Sure she's 18 by season 3, she's an adult in most places but it's still really gross. Besides what does a thousand year old (wait, how old is he?) have in common with an 18-year-old teenager? He helped kill, if not killed her parents. Look, forgiveness is a beautiful thing... but that's too much. It's fucking unforgivable. His very existence is to destroy the dragon flame. His like, literal reason of existence is to destroy her magic, her family, her world, HER. Ignoring the whole age thing real quick, they just wouldn't work. There's no chemistry between them that won't lead to an explosion.

Now about the intrigue in the dynamic; you know hero x villain, I get it, but the conflict in their relationship isn't romantic.

I also cannot believe one of the official winx club channels made a video for this ship. It's just...

Bloom X Darkar...

I'm pretty sure this is somewhat unpopular but it still exists, which is just like... I have no words. To be fair, I do like them, but as a platonic ship, I'll explain in the continuation of this post. Darkar is a fucking entity he's even older than Valtor. His goal, I feel, is a little less defined other than "he's doing evil things because he's evil", he's a god of darkness not fucking evil.

- I need to rant real quick, I have such an intense love-hate relationship with darkness being evil and light being good. I love it because it's easy to make out and the whole forces of good and evil really gets me going, but like I hate it cause it's always light is good and dark is bad. To be fair, I do appreciate it when it's mudded in which some light creatures turn/are evil and dark creatures turn/are good. Like if there's a lot of gray, I'm happy. Not everything is in black and white.

Anyways, they also only interacted for a short period of time and that wasn't enough for any sort of real relationship (of any sort) to bloom. Although, Darkar is like one of the nicest characters to Bloom which is strange. I get he was just using her but I'll explain later why it doesn't make sense.

These are the two romantic ships that I hate. It's mostly because of age, like if Bloom were older and Valtor was younger I could see them being an interesting enemy to lover ship, but it'd still be a stretch to me. But Bloom and Darkar I can't see romantically, but that's probably because I see them differently.

For the ones I could somewhat see or somewhat like, bruh by this point I'll have to come back and make a continuation post just called THE POTENTIAL...

SunFire, Bloom X Stella...

They're bestfriends which is already a good start, although in the series I don't think they actually act that close, it tends to be more of a rare sight. They're always supportive of eachother (that is until all attention went to Bloom) and Stella was the one to help Bloom's "gain" powers and showed her the magic dimension. Stella immense confidence would be a nice boast for Bloom, since I personally see Bloom as not being very confident in herself and having low self-esteem. They're very cute too.

Tecna X Riven...

Honestly, I think they'd work. They both have common interests for machinery (and presumably sports), they both have emotional issues that would be interesting to see them work out together. I also think they're relationship would be more interesting than their canons ones.

There's always the issue of... y'know, Riven being a piece of shit. But Tecna strikes me as a "takes no shit" type and I feel like that would be their dynamic. I also feel like Riven would like that sort of confidence.

Riven X Darcy...

I also think they'd work. I know in some dubs Darcy used her powers to control Riven, which really just feels like an excuse for his actons. But in the Rai dub, the one I grew up on (is it the original English Dub?), Darcy just had a way with words and was easily able to calm Riven down.

They seem to be able to relate to eachother, and I would like to think that, despite the finale, she still cares about him. (Also I could see them as being a trans couple, I can see both of them being trans so there's something for them to relate to)

Soundwave, Aisha X Musa...

I love this ship. They have a lot of relatability, a lot in common, and have a lot of screentime together. Musa is the one that made Aisha feel accepted in the Winx Club and they found solidarity in each other. In comparison to everyone else, they just seem so much closer and honestly I don't remember a time they fought. Except for maybe the time Nabu died, but Aisha was fighting with everyone.

Speaking of which, I would write them together if I didn't find Aisha and Nabu so cute. Of course, if he dies, yeah, she can move on and be with Musa but I don't know if I'm going to kill him. So this is honestly a huge maybe for my rewrite.

Icy X Bloom...

Honestly, they're most likely going to be canon in my rewrite.

Their similar backstories are incredibly interesting especially since they basically took two different paths. Same cause, different outcomes. Which makes their relationship and dynamic pretty thrilling since to be together they have to be on the same side, so will they be good or evil together. It's almost like a game of tug of war, if you will.

It's hard to find any common interests between them in the series and I haven't read the comics, so I'll talk more about headcanon stuff. Neither of them get what they want in life, they always seem to be unlucky. Both of them are very lonely, usually it's their own fault; and (after the first encounter with Lord Darkar, where Bloom turns evil) Icy tends to find peace in Bloom when they're not fighting. I'd imagine them both to be very artistic, Bloom loves to draw (which is something they dropped in like the first episode) and I could imagine Icy liking sculpting.

Plus, it's the rivals to lover trope, that'd could actually be a healty rivals to lover trope. Which I love, literally one of my favorite dynamics.

Diaspro X Bloom...

Damn, a lot of these have to do with Bloom.

If Diaspro were to see how bad Sky was she'd probably want to be around the one that originally called him out, Bloom. Diaspro can actually be really fucking sweet, but only to people she likes which in this case, is Bloom. Although, she'd probably be very clingy. We don't get any information about Diaspro's interests or her actual personality because she's eViL. So it's difficult to see how they'd work out.

But it'd be cute to see Diaspro teach Bloom how to be a princess and to act like a "proper lady."And to see Bloom teach Diaspro to be more free-spirited and less uptight (I'm thinking about the second Mulan movie now). I'm really tempted to have them be somewhat hinted at in the story; like Diaspro likes Bloom but Bloom doesn't like Diaspro. We'll see...

Brandon X Sky...

Similar to Bloom and Stella, they're best friends which is a good start. They seem to have known eachother for a long time. Really if anything, they're just the male version of Bloom X Stella, but like a little calmer.

Diaspro x Icy...

I've seen this ship here and there, but to be honesst I really know what I think about it. From what I remember, they don't ever interact. And I guess they can just be a villaness power couple. Or hard and soft relationship, where like Icy's a hardass and Diaspro's her surprisingly sweet significant other. Well, sweet only to her.

Stormy X Musa...

They're both punks. They'd either always butt heads or they'd always vibing together. I think they'd be kinda cute tho, just two gals being wild.

Stormy X Flora...

A hardass and a softass, since Flora's gonna be like 5'10-6'0ft in my redesign and Stormy is absolutely shorter than her; they'd be the small, angry and big, soft dynamic. And I think that's kinda cute. Plus, they're both forces of nature. I could see Stormy allowing Flora to be more chaotic and open up about her more negative emotions, especially if these emotions have to do with the rest of the Winx. And Flora could allow Stormy to chill out and be calmer, I could see Stormy picking up a gardening habit because of Flora.

This is kind out of left field, Professor Palladium X Professor Avalon

I half-jokingly, and half-actually shipped them when I rewatched season 2, then I was surprised to find that people actually ship them. And that it was kinda popular. There's really not much to go off of, but they're really cute and I just really want them to be together. Palladium seems very anxious and is really sweet and Avalon seems like he has a lot of self-esteem, I don't know where I'm going with this so make due with these observations as you please.

There's like a million more ships and maybe I'll talk more about them if some catch my eye, but I'm stopping for now. I still have to work on platonic and enmity ships.

Honestly, writing about my thoughts on these ships and canon relationships kind of opened my eyes to possible pairings. Once I'm done with all of these, I'll definitely have a lot to think about when writing these character's relationships. Oh, and sorry about the long ass post. If it's an issue, I'll just separate it into parts.

[kelyon]

Golden Rings 24: A Stranger

The Storybrooke sequel to Golden Cuffs

Rumpelstiltskin seeks out the mysterious man on a motorcycle

Read on AO3

August Wayne Booth. 

The man had been at the forefront of Rumpelstiltskin’s mind for weeks now, ever since Jefferson had mentioned him in passing. His friend had only known the stranger as a man on a motorcycle, someone who had come to town in January and stayed.

Outsiders weren’t supposed to be able to come into Storybrooke and they certainly weren’t supposed to stay. The only person here who hadn’t been born in the old world was Henry Mills. The people affected by the curse didn’t notice it’s constant effect because that had been their reality for twenty-eight years. But a normal person would notice the oddness around Storybrooke, the little things that didn’t quite add up. Henry had, and he was only a child. If an adult who had been born in the world without magic slipped into town, the curse was designed to fill them with an unfathomable dread, a soul-deep revulsion that would make them want to leave as soon as they could.  

But not Mr. August Wayne Booth. 

For a few weeks, Rumpelstiltskin kept tabs on the man. Gold had a loose network of informants, people who wanted to stay on his good side. It was easy to make subtle inquiries. Emma Swan had given him the name, as well as the fact that he was a writer. That had piqued his interest. A storyteller coming into a town made of stories. Wasn’t that awfully convenient?

 “Booth” was clearly a false name. If he was a writer, it was a pseudonym. If there was something more nefarious going on, it was an alias. Either way, the name was a lie. What was the truth? Who was he, this dark-haired young man who had been born in the old world but had come to the land without magic without being part of the curse? 

And why did he seem to be watching Gold as much as Rumpelstiltskin had been watching him?

****

It started with Henry. One day after school, the boy came into the shop. Thankfully, Mrs. Gold was out at the time. Rumpelstiltskin hated to imagine the sorts of things that woman might try to get away with in front of a child. 

Rumpelstiltskin liked Henry. He liked most children--they were so refreshingly direct. Henry reminded him particularly of Bae. It was something about the dark hair and wide brown eyes, the conflict of innocence and experience that made both boys wiser and more haunted than they should have been. Bae’s life hadn’t been an easy one, and Henry had been raised by Regina, a woman the boy had correctly identified as the Evil Queen. 

“Good afternoon, Henry.” He left the back counter to talk to him. “What brings you in today?”

Henry looked around the shop with a half-frown on his small face. “I wanted to buy a present for Mrs. Nolan,” he said. “You know, since she didn’t die.”

Kathryn Nolan’s disappearance, various sightings, and eventual re-appearance had been headline news for weeks. The poor woman had finally made it to the doorstep of the sheriff’s station, dehydrated and malnourished but clear in her mind. She reported that she had been abducted, had escaped several times, and had been recaptured and moved to different locations before finally making a break for it.

Rumpelstiltskin didn’t wonder who might be responsible for something so tragic happening to the woman Prince Charming was married to in this world--or who might benefit from it becoming public knowledge that David Nolan and Mary Margaret Blanchard were having an affair while Kathryn was in such peril. But he did wonder how things might have been different if Regina had asked someone more competent to do her dirty work. He would have refused, but she should have at least tried to come to him first. 

That was all in the past. Now, Kathryn Nolan was recuperating in the hospital and young Henry wanted to buy her a gift. 

“What were you thinking, my boy?”  

Henry shifted from one foot to the other. He seemed focused at some point over Rumpelstiltskin’s shoulder. “Um.... Maybe something musical? Something that makes a lot of noise.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Interesting choice. Perhaps a music box?” He went to the case where he kept a few antique music boxes. He wound each one up and set them on the counter for Henry’s inspection.

“They’re not very loud.” He held one shaped like a golden harp up to his ear. 

“I also have a mechanical nightingale.” Rumpelstiltskin pointed to a clockwork bird that was covered in jewels. In the old world, it had belonged to an emperor, who had valued its song over that of any real bird. “Though I fear it may be a touch out of your price range.”

There was a noise from the back of the shop. Rumpelstiltskin turned to look that way, but then Henry spoke up again.

“What about a bell?” he asked loudly. “Do you have any bells around here?”

“I’d be happier if I had one more,” Rumpelstiltskin joked to himself. “But yes, they’re in the case on the other side.”

He got them out--glass and porcelain, silver and pewter. Henry had to ring them all, of course. Several times. It was only when the boy was done that Rumpelstiltskin noticed more noise from the back. 

“Excuse me,” he said to Henry as he limped over to the curtained door. 

There was a man in his office. August Wayne Booth. Looking through the shelves of unpriced antiques. 

“May I help you?” he threatened. 

Booth put on a boyish grin. It was meant to look disarming, which only made Rumpelstiltskin arm himself more thoroughly. 

“Yeah, I was looking for some maps, if you had any.”

“They’re out there,” Rumpelstiltskin nodded behind him. “In the shop.”

“I thought this was the shop,” Booth chuckled. 

Slowly, Rumpelstiltskin came toward the man, who backed away without losing his shit-eating grin. 

“This is my office.” He kept his voice low, to make sure Booth was listening. “Private.”

“Ah!” To Booth’s credit, he kept up the ruse, no matter how thin it was getting. “Sorry. My mistake.” 

Why did the memory suddenly come to him of Baelfire insisting that he had washed his hands before dinner, even when Rumpelstiltskin could see the dirt on his palms?

Booth made a hasty retreat through the curtained door into the showroom. A moment later, the bell over the front door rang. Without looking, Rumpelstiltskin knew that Henry and Booth were both gone. 

****

      “Will you be able to watch the shop today?” Rumpelstiltskin asked Mrs. Gold the next morning. She had started coming down for breakfast again, though she still made her own coffee and toast. 

For some reason, she seemed to be warming up to him lately. In the evenings she lounged around the house instead of staying cooped up in her room. She offered to help him with dishes and other chores. She stood close to him again. Sometimes she even tried to take his hand. 

She set down her section of the newspaper. Instead of reading to him as she once had, now they divided the paper and read in silence. “You won’t be in?”

“No, I have some business that would bore you.” 

For a moment, he wondered if she would question him. When the curse was in full force Mrs. Gold would have obeyed her husband without thought. Her trust in him--damaging and perverse though it may have been--was absolute. But since Rumpelstiltskin had given up any pretense of acting like Gold to her, she didn’t know him anymore. It had hurt her at first, especially when she had seen him with Jefferson. But lately, for some reason, the breakdown of their marriage didn’t seem to bother her as much as it once had. 

She just nodded. “Feels like I haven’t been in the shop in forever.”

She hadn’t. When Mrs. Gold avoided him that meant avoiding the place where he spent the most time. Should he have done something different with that? Should he have arranged that they alternate days in the shop, just to give Mrs. Gold something to do? Would keeping her busy have made her happier? Would it have prevented some damage to her heart or her mind?

Was it too late for him to make things better for her?

****

 The question of regrets, of apologies and restitution, weighed heavily on Rumpelstiltskin’s mind. Everything he had done for the last several hundred years had been to get to the moment he was in now. He had created a curse that would destroy the old world and bring them to this one. He had manipulated events so that Regina would have enough power and enough rage to cast it, and that Snow White and Prince Charming would have enough True Love to create a Savior who could break it. All of that was just the first step, just the way to get to Baelfire. Now he had to find him, and he had to make things right by him. 

But what if Baelfire had found him first?

The thought was too precious to believe in. It didn’t help that he had no idea how old his son would be. Time worked differently in different worlds. In some places it stopped altogether. Jefferson once spoke of a world where thousands of years could pass between one of his visits and the next. In this world without magic, Bae could still be fourteen. Or he could be an old man. 

Or could be an adult who rode a motorcycle. 

Booth was staying at Granny’s Bed and Breakfast. As the owner of the building, Rumpelstiltskin could have insisted that Granny Lucas pull out her master key and escort him up to the room. But there was no need to make a public display. Not when a set of lock picks could achieve the same result. 

Tit for tat, after all. Booth had invaded his territory. It was only fair that Rumpelstiltskin repay him in kind. 

After four months of him living there, the hotel room had plenty of information to offer about Booth. Housekeeping had made the bed, but dirty clothes still littered the floor. A desk was strewn with books and papers, with a typewriter sitting in the middle. That gave some credence to the idea that Booth was an author. There was a page in the typewriter carriage, the end of a paragraph about a smirking blonde woman. 

There were two stacks of papers on the desk. The larger stack appeared to be a ream or two of blank printer paper, waiting to become the next Great American Novel. The smaller stack was the actual results of Booth’s work. Typed pages held down by a wooden carving of a donkey.

Rumpelstiltskin picked up the figurine. There was no brand on the bottom, it could be hand-made. Once, Baelfire had asked him to teach him to whittle, as he had seen other men around the village teach the other boys. Rumpelstiltskin had been forced to admit that he didn’t have that skill. His father had never taught him either.  

He leafed through the pages until his heart skipped a beat. Hidden with the rest of the papers was a drawing. Baelfire had loved to draw, as Milah had before him. And this drawing was certainly something that only Baelfire would have made. 

It was the dagger. His dagger. 

He had told his son about the power of the dagger, that it was the source of his magic, the only weapon that could hurt him. That anyone who used the dagger could control him and make the powerful Dark One a slave.

Bae had hated the dagger. He hated what his papa had become--and hated more that Rumpelstiltskin didn’t hate it. How could he? The power, the knowledge, had been like nothing he had ever known. Once he had lost his soul to dark magic, Rumpelstiltskin felt like a man for the first time in his life.

But Bae had only wanted his father. 

And when the time came, when Rumpelstiltskin had to choose between the dagger and his son--the son he would die for but could not protect without magic--he had made the worst choice he could have made. 

By the time he realized what he’d done, it was too late. Bae was gone. Rumpelstiltskin lived for centuries without him. Centuries trying to find him. And now…

And now his son might be in Storybrooke. 

****

Later that afternoon, he took Gold’s car and followed Booth on his motorcycle. The Sisters of St. Meissa Convent was an odd visiting place for a man as worldly and rough-edged as Booth appeared to be. But Baelfire had goodness in his soul, the kind that time could not erase. He would talk to nuns as easily as he would talk to fairies. How fitting that the Blue Fairy was now the Mother Superior over a superfluity of nuns. 

Booth was talking to her. Bae had once asked the Blue Fairy how to remove the darkness from his father, and the gnat had given him a magic bean. The bean had opened a portal to get to the land without magic--this world.

If she had offered the same courtesy to Rumpelstiltskin when he had demanded it, the curse would have never happened and none of them would be in the mess they were in now. 

The fairy and the man spoke for some time. They walked around the convent grounds while Rumpelstiltskin waited in the car. From the far side of the large parking lot, he kept an eye on the motorcycle. Once Booth came back to it and started the motor, Rumpelstiltskin got out and made his way to the convent. 

“Mr. Gold!” Mother Superior squeaked when she saw him waiting for her by the entrance. She quickly recovered and straightened up in a display of determined self-righteousness. “It isn’t Rent Day. Are you here to repent of your sins and beg for forgiveness?”

“My sins are far beyond your forgiveness, dearie.” He showed his teeth. She might be stupid enough to think it was a smile. “Who was that man you were talking to?”

The fairy lifted her chin in the air and began to walk on. “I don’t have to tell you that.”

“And I don’t have to not double your rent.”

She stopped in her tracks, her back to him. She was dressed in wool from her stockings to her habit--all of it dark blue. At least some things hadn’t changed. The Mother Superior stomped back to him. 

“What do you want?” she asked through a clenched jaw.

“That man,” Rumpelstiltskin repeated. “What did you talk about?”

Fidgeting with the sleeves of her cardigan, the Blue Fairy didn’t look him in the eye. “He’s a lost soul looking for his father. He asked me for advice on how to approach him.”

Rumpelstiltskin’s throat went dry. He stayed very still and gripped the handle of his cane. “What did you tell him?”

Her temper seemed to flare. “The same council I would give anyone in that situation: To be selfless, and brave, and honest.”She looked at him pointedly. “You have to care about the other person’s feelings more than your own pride, you know.”

“You would know a thing or two about pride, dearie.” Rumpelstiltskin turned away and began to walk, leaving the gnat sputtering in his wake.  

****

Taking time to chat with the Blue Fairy made Rumpelstiltskin lose track of Booth’s whereabouts. He drove back to town, knowing he would run into the man again. Especially if he was looking to reconcile with his father. 

Should he believe what the fairy had said? Mother Superior would know better than to make things worse between herself and Gold. Nothing she had said seemed to be a lie. But there were so many ways to deceive without lying. 

He parked the car by the shop, but didn’t go in. Without knowing that he was doing it, he began to walk down the main street. He needed to think.

What he really needed was to talk to someone. Belle would know what to do. He could talk to her about anything, and she would understand, or try to. At least she would listen. In the too-brief year of their marriage, he had poured out his soul to her a hundred times. She had always known how to help him, how to see what he needed to do and how he might go about doing it. He could be weak with Belle, in a way he could never be weak with anyone. He could admit his confusion, his inarticulate mass of fears and sorrows--and always, she would help him untangle the threads of his thoughts, without judgement, with nothing but wisdom and love.

No one else could do what Belle did.

He might reach out to Jefferson, but the poor man was so caught up in his own misery. Little Grace didn’t know who her father was, it would be cruel to talk to him about a possible reunion with his own child. It also occurred to Rumpelstiltskin that Jefferson didn’t know Bae existed. His son--his life before he became the Dark One--was one of Rumpelstiltskin’s closest secrets. Only Belle knew the whole story. It would be too much to burden Jefferson with all of it at once.     

After circling the block, Rumpelstiltskin’s feet stopped in front of a building across the street from the shop. It was called the Hepworth Building, Gold had owned it for years. Among other businesses, it housed the office of Dr. Archibald Hopper, the town’s resident psychiatrist. 

In the old world, Hopper had once been a petty thief named Jiminy. After getting caught up in some magic he didn’t understand, Jiminy had been transformed into a talking cricket. To atone for his previous crimes, he had made it his duty to act as the conscience for confused humans, to encourage them to do the right thing.

Rumpelstiltskin sighed as he knocked on the office door. Whatever might happen with the cricket, it had to be better than stewing around in his own head. 

Dr. Hopper opened the door. A tall, bespectacled man in tweed, he radiated a kind of earnest goodness, a guileless sincerity that made Rumpelstiltskin itch. 

Belle would like this man, he told himself. Belle would want him to talk to someone. 

“Mr. Gold.” Hopper’s voice was always soft, even when he was surprised and confused. “Are you… here about the rent?”

Of course that was all Gold was to these people. Nothing but a monster set out to take as much from them as possible. 

“No.” He leaned on his cane and looked at the carpet. “No, I’m… I’m not sure I could tell you why I’m here.”

Hopper’s frame had been taking up the entirety of the doorway. Rumpelstiltskin stood in the hall, far enough away that no passerby would think he was waiting to go into the psychiatrist's office. With a single step Hopper went out into the hall. Now the door was wide open. 

“Would you like to come in?” he said. “I’ve got some time before my next appointment. If there’s something on your mind…?”

Rumpelstiltskin brushed past the doctor before he could change his mind. Once in the office, he had just enough time to find a chair before his knees gave out and he collapsed, like a puppet whose strings had just been cut. 

Hopper sat down in the chair across from him, so they were eye to eye. Some deep, primal emotion burned in Rumpelstiltskin’s throat. He wanted to talk. He shouldn’t talk. If he started talking--about Bae, about himself, about Belle--he would never be able to stop. 

“So,” Hopper began, “what brings you in today?”

A coffee table sat in between Rumpelstiltskin’s chair and Hopper’s. He looked at it, at the fake wood grain that covered up the cheap plywood. He breathed.

Gods, he wished Belle was here.

“I think I might be seeing my son again soon,” he said.

Hopper was silent for a moment. His head tilted to the side. “I--didn’t know you had a son. How old is he?”

“Let’s start with something simpler.” Rumpelstiltskin took a shaking breath. “I haven’t seen him since he was fourteen. I…” He trailed off, then began again. He was here. He was talking. He was determined to plunge in the knife as deep as it would go. 

“I haven’t seen my son since I abandoned him.” He looked up, stared directly into Hopper’s eyes. “I can’t imagine that he doesn’t hate me for what I’ve done. I know I deserve his hate. I deserve all the anger and rage he wants to pour out onto me. But I’m still afraid of it.”

“Well of course you are,” Hopper said simply. “No one wants to deal with negative emotions, or the consequences of actions they regret. The past can be a scary place, and it sounds like you’ve got some real causes for concern.”

Rumpelstiltskin blinked. He’d forgotten how good it could feel to have someone agree with him, to look at the facts of the situation and say that his reaction was justified. 

“I do want to see him,” he said. “But… but how can I make up for what I’ve done? If I make myself vulnerable to him, I might as well put my head on a chopping block.”

The dagger was the only weapon that could kill him. Did Bae want it for that reason? Had his son decided that enough was enough, that he would end the evil of the Dark One no matter what it cost?

“Vulnerability,” Hopper said, “is a very scary thing. Forgive me if I’m overstepping, but you don’t strike me as a person who is comfortable with being open.”

Rumpelstiltskin sighed. It had been the greatest gift Belle had ever given him--the chance to open himself up to her. Could he trust Bae in the same way? Could he offer his son all he had, all the weakness and cowardice? Could he trust his boy to understand everything he wasn’t, as well as everything he was?

“When he was growing up,” he said, “I always wanted to be strong for him. I didn’t want him to… know.”

“Know what?”

“What I lacked. As a father, as a--man.” Rumpelstiltskin’s hands balled into fists. “I didn’t want him to know that I wasn’t good enough for him.”

The confession escaped him like air from his lungs. It left him feeling hollow, deflated. He looked at the ground. 

The office was silent. Hopper seemed to be waiting to see if he would say more. When it was clear that he wouldn’t, the doctor put his hands together, entwining his fingers.

“It’s clear you have regrets,” he said gently. “If you want to talk about those things in the future, we can schedule an appointment. But you came here because you have concerns about reuniting with your son. On that end, I have a question for you.”

Rumpelstiltskin didn’t speak, but looked up from the ground to let Hopper know he was listening. 

“Do you think your son doesn’t know about what you think of as your faults?”

His eyebrows furrowed. “What?”

“Everything you were trying to hide from your son when he was a boy, everything you didn’t want him to know--do you think, right now, that he is unaware of those things?”

Rumpelstiltskin opened his mouth. “No,” he said after a moment. “No, I don’t see how he could be ignorant anymore.”

When Bae was small, he had tried to be a regular father to him. He’d tried to keep him from understanding how wretched their poverty was, how unhappy Millah was, how far Rumpelstiltskin fell from being anything their world thought a man should be. But Bae had grown up and he had learned. And then he had seen that not only was his father less than a man--he was a monster. 

Bae had known that. And he had run from it. But now he was back. He had chosen to come back, to seek out Rumpelstiltskin.

“If that’s the case,” Hopper said, “though it might still be frightening, I don’t know if there’s any reason for you to feel like you need to hide from him anymore.”

He didn’t speak. He was too overwhelmed. He should see his son. He would see his son. He had to. 

“Do you know where mold grows, Mr. Gold?”

Wordless, Rumpelstiltskin shook his head.

“In the dark,” Hopper answered his own question. “Any rot, any corruption, it’s mostly going to happen in dark, hidden places. Basements, attics, the back of the fridge. It’s the same with emotions that people keep secret. If you don’t bring them out into the light, they’re just going to get… yucky.”

He allowed himself to grin. “You know, that sounds exactly like something my wife would say.”

****

   That night, when Rumpelstiltskin followed the motorcycle, it drove off into the woods. It took him a few minutes to realize that they were headed to Gold’s cabin. The same place where he had buried the dagger all those months ago. 

Good. That dagger had been the linchpin of the conflict between him and Bae. No matter how that conflict ended, the dagger would surely have some part to play. 

He parked the car beside the motorcycle. The cabin was dark, but moonlight reflected off the lake. The figure of a man stood by the shore. 

Rumpelstiltskin hesitated before going out to meet him. How was this going to play out? How angry would Baelfire be? How could he ever make up for leaving him, for embracing the darkness he had hated so much?

How could he ever be a father to him again?

Do the brave thing, Belle would have said. Bravery will follow after that. 

Leaning on his cane, Rumpelstiltskin stepped onto the grass and walked out to meet his fate. 

The man didn’t move as he heard him approach, but he did turn his head as they stood side by side in front of the water. 

“I didn’t know if you would come,” he said calmly.

Rumpelstiltskin planted his cane in front of him. Just barely, he resisted the impulse to weep. He wanted to throw his arms around his son, to get on his hands and knees and beg forgiveness from his beautiful boy.

“I didn’t know if I would be welcome,” he said honestly. “After… everything.”

Now Bae faced him fully. In the moonlight, his eyes sparkled blue--so like Millah, so like Belle. His eyes shone with unshed tears.

“Papa.” 

It was all he said. It was all he needed to say. Rumpelstiltskin’s resolve melted. His son was in his arms. They hugged and cried and apologized. Bae assured him that everything was alright, everything was forgiven. They were together again. They could be happy again. 

“Look at you!” Rumpelstiltskin held his son’s face in his hands. He had changed, but he had grown up to be a handsome, strong, capable man. Bae was everything he had ever hoped he would be. “Belle will be so happy to meet you at last.” 

Bae looked confused. “Who’s Belle?”

“My wife. Your--well, she’d like to be your step-mother, if you want to think of her that way.”

Belle had wanted to be a mother to his son, a mother to all the children they could have together, once the curse was broken and the world was safe.

“Of course, Papa,” he said. “I’m sure I’ll love Belle. She’s got to be a better wife to you than that girl who hangs around your shop.”

Rumpelstiltskin winced. He patted his son on the arm and began to walk toward the cabin. “Don’t judge Belle by Mrs. Gold, son. This curse… it is a terrible thing.”

“I know.” Bae began to walk ahead of him. Then he stopped and looked back. He waited for Rumpelstiltskin to catch up.

Limping, he chuckled at his son. “Just like old times, isn’t it?”

For a split-second, the man’s face was blank. Like he had no memories of running to the village on market day while his father hobbled on a staff, urging him to slow down, to stay close. The blankness remained in his blue eyes, even as he smiled and laughed. “Oh, right.” 

Had Bae always had Millah’s eyes?  

Rumpelstiltskin felt his jaw clench. A worm of worry had gnawed into this perfect moment. But he couldn’t worry. He couldn’t be afraid now. Not when he finally had Bae again. 

He had Bae. And Bae had forgiven him. It was so easy.

Too easy?

They kept walking, past the cabin and to the patch of woods where he had buried the dagger. There was a shovel in the cabin. The young man insisted that he do the digging. Rumpelstiltskin watched him work. He tried to keep a level head.

The deeper the man dug, the more worried Rumpelstiltskin found himself. Was that just his connection to the dagger? Dark magic knew when it was being threatened, it always worked to protect itself. Bae had tried to separate Rumpelstiltskin from the Dark One before. Did the dagger know that? Was it afraid that Bae would win this time?

Or was Rumpelstiltskin afraid that Booth wasn’t really Bae at all?

After unearthing the metal box, Booth handed it over to him. 

“Can you unlock this, Papa?”

The keys were in his trouser pocket. He didn’t reach for them. He held the box in both hands, in the dark and silent forest. 

“You know,” he said. “I gave the dagger to Belle, before I asked her to marry me. I knew it was the only way we could be together. If I kept my magic, she would have the power to control it.”

The young man looked up at him from his hole in the ground. “That’s… really sweet, Papa.”

Rumpelstiltskin let out a breath. “Funny thing, though,” he said. “In this world, I don’t have magic. Wasn’t that the whole point of coming here, Bae?”

Thinking clearly for the first time in days, Rumpelstiltskin looked August Wayne Booth in his lying blue eyes. 

“There is no magic in this world,” he said. “My son wanted to escape from magic. He would leave this dagger buried in the earth. You are not Baelfire, so who the hell are you?” 

Booth opened his mouth and held up his hands. “Papa, how can you--”

“Enough!” Rumpelstiltskin roared.       

By the time Booth had scrambled out of the hole, Rumpelstiltskin had unlocked the box and taken out the dagger. He pushed Booth up against a tree and held the point of the dagger to his lying throat. 

Booth’s breath went ragged. “You just said it doesn’t have magic.”

“Doesn’t mean it isn’t sharp, dearie. I think you should talk while you still have a voice box.”

He tried to swallow, then seemed to realize what a dangerous endeavor that would be. “I-I-I’m not your son.”

Rumpelstiltskin bared his teeth. “A little fairy told me she advised you to be honest. Now tell me something that I don’t already fucking know.”

“I know where he is!” Booth gasped out the words. “N-Baelfire. I’ve met him, I’ve talked to him. I can find him again.”

“See, if you started with that, you might have some credibility. But now I’m going to make you bleed, just because you insulted my son’s name by putting it in your mouth.”

He pushed the dagger into a spot under Booth’s ear, far away from any fatal areas. Rumpelstiltskin had seen blood in the moonlight before--it looked black and otherworldly and beautiful.

But Booth wasn’t bleeding. A trail of clear liquid rolled down the man’s neck, much more slowly than blood usually did. Rumpelstiltskin reached out a gloved hand to touch it.

“Who are you?” he asked. “What’s wrong with you? Were you not born in my world?”

Though clearly feeling pain, Booth was able to grin. “That’s where you’re wrong, Dark One. I wasn’t born at all.”

Rumpelstiltskin eased up on the point of the dagger, but kept Booth pushed up against the tree. “And?”

“I was carved,” he explained. “From the wood of an enchanted tree. And enchanted trees don’t do well in a land without magic.”

Now Rumpelstiltskin stepped back. Far enough away that Booth couldn’t grab the dagger away from him, but close enough that he could still rush the man if he needed to. 

“You need magic,” he said to the wooden man. “Did you think you could control me with this? Use me to keep yourself alive?”

“There are three people in this town who might have access to magic.” Now Booth leaned against the tree. He rubbed at his neck, wiping away the sap that had leaked from his skin. “It’s Emma, you, and the Evil Queen.”

Understanding dawned. “You’ve been hanging around Emma for months.”

“Trying to get her to believe.” Booth shook his head. “Hasn’t worked.” 

“Well, you couldn’t claim to be her long-lost child, could you?”

He had the good grace to chuckle at that. “I don’t have anything to offer Regina either. Hell, she wants me to be a pile of kindling.”

“You haven’t exactly endeared yourself to me either, sunshine.”

Hanging his head, Booth looked at him. Blue eyes--Bae’s were brown, they had always been brown, dammit!--had no hope in them. “Do you want to kill me now?” he asked. “Or do you want to watch my limbs and lungs and brain slowly turn into wood?”

“It’s a day in the park either way.” Rumpelstiltskin didn’t hide his satisfaction at this news. This man had lied to him, betrayed him in one of the most personal ways possible. He deserved to die. “Any guess as to how long you’ve got left?”

“Maybe weeks.” Booth pressed his hand to his thigh, then rapped his knuckles against his leather jacket. “Maybe days.”

“Hmm,” he grinned. “Well, Mr. Booth, for as long as you’re flesh and not furniture, you have a job to do.” He stepped up to the man, grabbed him by the collar and spoke loudly into his ear. “Get Emma Swan to break the curse. She is the Savior. Her magic is what will save us all.” He released Booth, tucked the dagger into his inside coat pocket, and walked back to the car. “Even those of us who don’t deserve it.”  

[moon-in-daylight]

Read Between The Lines / Count Orlo x reader

Summary: You have been friends with Orlo for years now, even though you have always fantasized about being something more. When Orlo reads some compromising papers, you’re not sure you can keep your infatuation with him a secret anymore.

Words: 5.4k

A/N: I’ve been working on this fic for weeks and now I’ve finally finished it. I’m not sure I’m content with the result, but considering I’ve overcome a really huge writing block to finish this, I’m posting it either way. I haven’t proofread any of this, so sorry for the potential mistakes and typos. Hope it still makes some sense. Also sorry for posting so late at night, but now that I finally have a fic to post, I can’t wait to do it until tomorrow 😂 

Surviving in Peter’s court wasn’t an easy task and anyone that had spent more than a few nights between the opulent walls of his palace could confirm that. The competence of the young Emperor could be easily described as inexistent and both the country and the palace were suffering the most absolute misery under his wicked and corrupted hand.

The war with Sweden had lasted too long, killed too many of your own people, but as harsh as it sounded, the front wasn’t the most hostile environment in Russia.

Sooner or later, that war would end. Eventually, things would go back to normal to the few lucky Russian soldiers that survived the unforgivingly cold winter in the battleground. Whatever outcome the dispute would take, the remaining survivors could go home and return to their families, live the rest of their lives in peace despite the atrocities they had been obliged to perform and witness…

The court, on the other hand, was endlessly immersed in a constant, vicious war for power that had started long before you were even born, and most certainly would still go on long after you were gone.

Every single soul living in Peter’s palace cared only for themselves, looked exclusively for their own interests. Winning the Emperor’s favor was vital for survival, and no one seemed to care whose feet they stepped on to get it. You could understand their selfish ways, you weren’t completely innocent either. You often forced yourself to laugh at the terrible jokes Peter made or took advantage of your family’s prosperous situation to get the any whims you could desire, even when in the majority times you actually didn't need most of the things you owned. It was an unfair situation and you were aware of it, but you had to take advantage of the fact that you had been born lucky and privileged.

But you normally tried to stay out of the way of the big political players, of those of the court’s residents that were trying to manipulate Peter into ruling by their beliefs and principles.

It was exhausting to live in a place like that. A place where everyone hid their true intentions and where you couldn’t lower your guard at practically any time of the day.

Much to your disgrace, the situation at court wouldn’t change while Peter was alive and occupying the throne. Even when he was the most incompetent, useless ruler the country had had in centuries – probably ever -, you were doomed to endure his reign with the only hope that you could outlive him and see a better Russia after he passed away.

He was too childish and puerile to run a country, far more worried in the seek for his own pleasure and amusement than meeting the needs of his people.

It was hard to conceive that while thousands of men were dying at the front, the Emperor could be drinking until passing out and making full display of his stupidity and recklessness through humorless jokes. It was evident to everyone’s eyes that he wasn’t qualified to run Russia, but you knew that saying that out loud would more than certainly get you killed.

He came from a long bloodline of rulers and that gave him a full pass on doing anything he wanted, no consequences, all by the divine grace of God. There was absolutely nothing you could do, except watch everyone around you butter up and lick the boots of the man that was destroying your homeland.

Not being able to deal with the hypocrisy of the court, you had soon learnt to ignore the real world and hide yourself up in fantasy ones, the shelves and books of the small library of the palace becoming a shelter for you.

In addition to being meaningfully smaller than the other rooms of the palace, the library was old, outdated and dusty. But it was also the quietest place and most peaceful room you could have access to, the least crowded. Just for that reason, it was the perfect place for you.

Although what you could have initially expected, you weren’t always alone in there, as Count Orlo often visited the library too. He was probably the only soul in the whole court beside you that care the slightest for written words, that enjoyed learning new things just for the pleasure of it.

You were intimidated by him at first, his political career and reputation making him seem cold and ruthless. In your eyes and judging by what you had heard of him, he was nothing but a calculating mind seeking to expand his power and influence, putting up with the Emperor’s constant mocking of him just so he could manipulate him.

That view you had of him immediately changed after the first time you exchanged a few ideas about the philosophy book he had caught you reading, his passionate words allowing you to see the concepts you were reading about from a different and more interesting point of view.

It wasn’t rare for the both of you to coincide in that room and through your encounters you easily familiarized and grew comfortable with each other presence. How could you not? He was always nothing but kind to you.

Whenever he had the chance, he got reunited with you so you could discuss your readings, recommend each other new books or just spend some quality time away from all the court’s madness. He was incredibly friendly and caring, always willing to share with you his knowledge, which you were incredibly thankful for.

Women weren’t supposed to learn the things you were learning. Most of them at court were illiterate, and you would be too had your father not thought it could be useful to teach you how to read when you were a child. You were grateful that he had taken the time to teach you, knowing that most men wanted the women around them to be ignorant and obliging. You were tired of seeing the patronizing way in which your gender was treated. So seeing that Orlo was treating you as an equal and was happy to answer even your most stupid questions was truly relieving.

It didn’t take long for you to grow fond of him, maybe fonder than you would have liked to admit.

Orlo was the only person in court you felt you could rely on, his views and ideas more similar to yours than what you could have ever imagined. Despite what everyone else gossiped about him, you knew he was brave and did the best he could to make a difference in Russia. He couldn’t do much to reason with Peter and talk him into making what was best for everyone, you doubted that anyone could. But at least he tried, unlike all that people who dared to mock him.

You saw in him something you had been looking for your whole life; a ray of hope. A promise that things could change, a reminder that not everything was that bad.

You couldn’t help but to let yourself fall for the feelings you slowly developed for him. It felt too good and tempting to not do so. The way your heart raced whenever you were around him was something thrilling, exciting. Something you had never thought you could ever get to feel while living in that place.

You weren’t willing to act on those feelings and risk losing his friendship, though. It was evident how uncomfortable he felt about that subject whenever Peter and his minions made fun of his lack sexual experience. You could see him clench and cringe under the court’s mockeries, discomfort filling his features every time anyone made a sexual reference in his presence. You assumed he simply wasn’t interested in those matters.

Plus, if he had been interested in you that way, he would have said something, shown some sign of his affection towards you…

It was okay that he didn’t feel the same. Just being able to befriend him was more than you could have asked for, and silently daydream about made up scenarios of you and him usually did the trick when you felt the need of being loved back.

That’s how, during one night in which you couldn’t get Orlo out of your head while reading, you had started writing a ‘book’ of your own.

You had been gathering different fantasies during the last couple of months. Endless reveries about how kissing him for the first time would feel like, what his reaction would be to other men taking an interest of you, or even about how the most quotidian parts of the day, like waking up or having breakfast, would be like with him.

Why should you not write something of your own, for your own consumption? You had always loved reading, and your feelings for Orlo gave you a never ending source of inspiration. So many ideas that you barely could remember them all. By writing them, you could preserve the happiest of your thoughts, go through them after a bad day and have your little stories bring a smile to your face.

It was harmless, so why not doing it? If it brought you joy, it couldn’t be that bad. Plus, Orlo would never have to know about your writings, as he didn’t need to know about your feelings for him either.

You hadn’t been able to write or read anything for the past days, though. Since the arrival of the Empress to the court everything had been even more chaotic than usual, and even when you much have rather stay in your chambers or with Orlo in the library instead, you had been obliged to attend to the wedding and following events.

As soon as you had seen her innocence, the look of hope in her face as she arrived to the palace for the first time, you had pitied her. She was an outsider hoping to find in the Emperor the love of her life, and in Russia a new home. You almost felt inclined to advice her to run away as fast as she could and never look back the second she walked through the palace’s doors. Living in that place was already awful enough without being married to Peter, and you figured that more sooner than later she would be regretting ever having left her home.

It only took a few days for her to realize in what a godforsaken place she had gotten herself into, as you had figured would happen. What you weren’t expecting was for her to start plotting against his husband’s life so she could steal his throne, nor that she would be requesting for your help in the process.

You had of course agreed to help her as soon as she had told you about the coup. You barely knew the woman, but you were already sure she would be making a much better work at running Russia that Peter ever would. Even a monkey could do it better, you suspected.

Because of your implication to her plans, you had found yourself having less time to spend with your own thoughts and writings, but that was compensated by having the chance of spending even more time than before with Orlo, as you had been able to convince him into taking part of the coup too.

It was actually nice to take part in the plotting against Peter, not only because you hated the bastard, but because due to the extra time you spent with Orlo, you could feel the bond between you getting stronger. During coup meetings, you would usually support each other’s ideas, have inside jokes between the two of you… You even defended him against Marial’s rude comments of him.

But as much fun as you were having helping Catherine kill the Emperor, it was also a really exhausting and demanding task, and you soon found that you barely had time to spend by yourself anymore. It had been at least a week since the last time you had been able to sit by your desk and write any of the scenarios you pictured with Orlo. And now that you were spending so much time together, you had a lot to write about.

That night you had arrived to your apartments early, right after dinner. As was tradition every few nights in the court, the Emperor was hosting a party, and you had been fortunate enough to be spared of the torture of attending.

You were hopping you could spend a quiet, peaceful night by yourself for once. To get lost in your thoughts as you imagined Orlo by your side in a new, reformed Russia. But your plans immediately took a different turn when, after searching through the whole room, you couldn’t find your writings anywhere.

After inspecting every drawer and every corner of your room for the second time, you started to get seriously worried.

What if someone had sneaked into your chambers and taken your writings? It was unlikely, as you hadn’t tell anyone about their existence. Why would anyone want to steal those, anyway? What value could they hold to anyone other than you? Of all the items in your quarters, those papers were probably the least valuable thing. If anyone had intended to steal anything from that room, you were sure that would be the last thing they would have taken, and yet, it was the only missing item…

But looking around you, you realized it wasn’t the only thing out of place. In the top of your desk you found a book that wasn’t supposed to be there, the book you had supposedly lent Orlo last week.

Quickly putting all the pieces together, you realized the fatal mistake you had made as your heart practically started to bump in your chest.

You had given him your own writings, instead of the Voltaire pamphlet you had been meaning to share with him.

Mumbling and cursing yourself, you grabbed the book between your hands and rushed out of your chambers and towards Orlo’s.

The Count had been even busier than you with the whole coup situation, so you hoped and prayed for him not to have found a single moment to read in all that time. You knew that in usual conditions, he could and would devour entire books over night, but you held to the hope that he hadn’t seen any of the things you had written about him.

Well, you had seen him exhausting himself from work every day for the past week. His mind seemed to be too focused on planning the next move, on thinking of possible allies for the Empress. It was quite possible he hadn’t even remembered that the book was in his possession.

If he had seen the words you had written, he would have already said something, right? So maybe you could still fix your mistake and act as if nothing had ever happened.

Assuming that he was still at the Emperor’s party, you could sneak into his chambers and switch the books. Prevent the awkwardness that the discovering of your fantasies with him would arouse between the two of you.

You didn’t bother to knock on his door before silently making your way into his chambers, holding the book close to your chest as you tried to ease the pressure that you felt inside.

When you saw that the entrance seemed to be empty, you let out a silent sigh of relieve. Yet, your steps were carefully slow as you got deeper into the room, trying not to make a single noise just in case.

It felt somewhat wrong to be there without his permission, but saving your friendship came before any moral conflict that could arouse within you at the moment.

If everything went okay, he would never have to know about any of it.

You held onto that thought as you kept walking towards the door of his bedchamber, where you knew he kept most of his books. Even when what you were doing felt wrong, it was for a greater good. How uncomfortable would the coup meetings be if he were to discover about your infatuation of him? For the well-being of Russia itself, he should never find out.

Besides, you were just trying to mend a wrong. You had given him your writings in a foolish mistake, by taking them back and leaving the actual book in their place you were just making things right. You convinced yourself it was the righteous thing to do, even when deep down it didn’t feel like it.

Succeeding into making your way to the front door of his bedchamber without any major complication, you pushed the doors open and quickly got inside the room. You didn’t mean to stay too long in there, but you closed the doors behind you in case any guard found them open and got alarmed.

The last thing you wanted right now was for anyone to find you there and having to make up an excuse for your furtive presence in the Count’s apartments.

When you looked up and found him sitting on his desk your body immediately froze, and when he looked up from the papers he was reading to look at you, you felt the cold sweat forming in your forehead.

For a second, you kept your eyes on him, watching surprise taking over his features. You tried to think of something, anything. An excuse to why you were sneaking into his chambers late at night when everyone was supposed to be either sleeping, dancing or completely wasted. You considered the idea of pretending to be drunk, make him think that you had entered his apartments by mistake and let him guide you back to yours. Being the gentleman he had always been, you knew that would be exactly what he would do in that situation.

It would certainly be embarrassing, and you feared he would feel uncomfortable having to deal with a drunk version of you. But you knew it would be far more embarrassing and uncomfortable to tell him the real reason why you were there.

If you were lucky enough and your performance succeeded, maybe you would even be able to ‘drunkenly’ roam through the room in search of your writings and take them with you without him noticing. Maybe you could still fix things.

You were about to ask him what he was doing in your apartments in what you hoped would sound as a drunken tone, but you desisted when you noticed the papers he was holding in his hand.

He had already read them. There was no point in making even more of a fool of yourself.

Neither of you dared to say anything for the following moments. Awkwardly, you looked at each other in what felt like the longest seconds of your life. You no longer knew what to do or say to fix that situation and, judging by the terrified look on his face, you doubted there was anything you could possibly try to make things better.

That was it. Your friendship was officially over. He would probably never want to say another word to you again. Maybe not even be in the same room as you again.

“I-“ You stumbled over your own words, feeling the lump forming in your throat and the pressure in your chest growing stronger, until the point of almost suffocate you. “I’m deeply sorry.”

As you quickly but sincerely said those words, you felt your mouth getting dry and your cheeks blushing, self-hatred taking over every inch of your body. You couldn’t bear the weight of his stare on you. Orlo’s eyes had always seemed the sweetest thing in the world to you, always so expressive and caring whenever he looked in your direction. But right now you felt them hovering over you judgmentally, with a hint of disgust on his face.

You had to look away from him immediately, but you still could notice how his face reddened too with what you assumed was second hand embarrassment.

Closing your eyes, you wished you could magically banish from that room. You wished for a hole to appear in the ground and swallow you, or for the walls to crumble and fall upon you until you were buried deep in the rubbles of the palace and nobody could find you. Literally anything could be better than standing there in front of Orlo.

You had no excuses, no way out. You wanted to properly apologize to him, make him see how truly sorry you were and how much you appreciated his friendship. How desperate you were not to lose him.

But you couldn’t find the right words for it.

“I should go.” You muttered nervously, still hopping that that entire situation was just a bitter nightmare. “I hope you can forgive me.”

Turning to leave his apartments, you wished he hadn’t notice the crack in your voice as you spoke. That whole scenario was already too shameful for you to bear, the last thing you needed was for him to see you crying. All you wanted was to get out of there as fast as you could, lock yourself in your chambers and drink until you forgot about what had happened or just passed out, whatever occurred first.

“Wait.” Orlo’s shaking voice stopped you.

As much as you wanted to run away, a single word from him was enough to stop you.

You were mortified as you stood there, still refusing to turn in his direction. You didn’t dare to. He was probably going to lecture you about how wrong and improper was what you had done, how repulsed he was by it. You didn’t want to go through it, but you owed it to him to face the consequences of your actions.

“I-I didn’t know you write.”

The Count’s tone was surprisingly tender and insecure. You turned to him with wondering eyes, trying to discern whether if he was mad at you or not.

“That’s not-“ You tried to swallow the lump in your throat, but your mouth was still dry. “I mean, I don’t.”

“But aren’t these writ-?” He started to question, but you cut him off before he could finish.

“Those don’t count.” Orlo frowned at your words, confused. You made an effort to explain yourself. “They’re rubbish.”

You watched him clench his jaw and avoid your gaze before he spoke again.

“I like-“ He stuttered. “I liked them.”

His words made you blush again. Not with embarrassment, but with flustering this time. He didn’t seem mad at you. In fact, he seemed way more nervous than you. His stammering confession of his liking of your work made you realize how hard he was trying to seem composed.

“I thought you’d be upset.” You tried to state, but your doubtful tone made it sound more like a question.

“I am not.” He was quick to reply, but still refused to meet your eye. “I think the way you… I really enjoyed your descriptions. They’re very detailed and intricated. And the vocabulary is delightfully rich.”

You could see the way Orlo moved around as he spoke, grabbing your writings in one hand and gesticulating with the other one to emphasize his words. He was visibly nervous, but he was doing his best to hide it. He was trying to act as if he was making a simple review of any other book you had shared with him and, as thankful as you were that he was attempting to normalize the situation, this wasn’t just another one of your endless talks about literature.

You hadn’t written those stories with the purpose of discussing them. It felt cold to talk about the use of vocabulary in them when your only intention at the time of writing them had only been to find a way to deal with what you felt for him. You weren’t especially proud of the product of your writing, but you had poured your heart and soul in them. How could he act as if he hadn’t read right through you? Was he really that oblivious that he didn’t realize that you were head over heels about him?

It was literally impossible he didn’t know, he had read about it with his very own eyes. Still, he seemed to be trying to act as if nothing had happened. You had accidentally stripped your feelings, showed him your deepest desires. And all you got from him was nothing.

For a second you thought you would have preferred that he had screamed at you, showed you rage, discomfort, or even disgust. Literally any other feeling that wasn’t the indifference he was giving you. Did he really not care at all?

Confronting him about it felt wrong. You weren’t entitled to it, and you didn’t want to make him any more uncomfortable than he already was. Instead, you decided to play along.

“And what do you think of the plot?” You asked, hoping he would take it as a cue to address the issue that worried you.

“T-The plot?” He repeated anxiously as he readjusted his glasses. You nodded, hoping for him to say something, but all you got from him was a mumbling mess.

You felt your heart ache for him as he stumbled through stuttered words and unfinished sentences. The Count seemed even more uncomfortable trying to find a right answer for you than what he usually was when being mocked by the court. And considering how awkward he felt under the constant jibes he was put through daily, that was saying something.

“Orlo, I’m sorry you read that.” You cut him off in an attempt to calm him down. Embarrassment was taking over you once again and you felt the urge to leave his apartments immediately, but you first needed to try to calm his nerves. You hated seeing him so unsettled, and you knew that he was going to be torturing himself about that interaction once you left the room, just as you were going to do too. At least, you had to try to find the right words to clear his mind. It had been you the one that had put him in that place after all. “I shouldn’t have written those things about you. It’s okay if you feel uncomfortable about it, you don’t have to pretend you don’t. I understand if you’re upset, even. It’s not your fault. I have no excuse for this, I now realize I should have never-“

“I’m not-“ Orlo’s voice surprised you, making you hush instantly. “It’s not that I’m upset. I just-“

He closed his eyes and sighed, probably still struggling to find the right words to express what was going through his mind. Knowing the man, you realized he was probably beating himself up inside that restless head of his. Cursing himself for not knowing the best way to react to that situation. The man was a perfectionist, always had been. If he said the wrong thing now he wouldn’t be able to think of any other thing for the rest of the week.

“I really can’t tell if you wrote these stories as a joke.” He finally sentenced.

“A joke?” The words left your lips before you could even process them. “Why would you think that?”

“I know I’m not a ladies man.” He stated, discomfort still plaguing his tone. “I’m well aware of all the rumors and jests about me. It’s just… I know I’m not desirable to women.”

You couldn’t help but frown while hearing his words. Your heart broke a little inside your chest, too. How could he think that you would mock him like that? Had he really grown to believe all the mean and hurtful things the evil tongues at Court said about him?

“Orlo, that’s bullshit.” You stepped forward, the embarrassment you had been drowning in suddenly turning into indignation. “You’re not a coward. You’re the bravest, most caring man I know. Not even half of the other men in this palace would be courageous enough to have joined this coup, to fight to make a difference. They can’t say nothing to you and it’s criminal that they have the audacity to mock you.”

The Count stared at you in disbelief of your words, still reluctant to look at you directly in the eye. It hurt you that he couldn’t seem to believe your words were true.

“You aren’t ugly either.” You continued, placing yourself right in front of his desk. “You have the most beautiful and intense eyes I’ve ever seen. I could stare at them for hours, if you let me. And your hair? It looks so soft, I’d love to run my fingers through it.”

Your heart beat increased as you kept listing the things you loved the most about him. It felt weird to just say to his face all the things that you loved about him and that you had kept in secret for years, but you needed him to understand just how wrong he was.

“You’re so intelligent that I sometimes fear you will laugh at me when I say something stupid, but deep down I know you won’t because you’re too kind to ever do that.”

Looking into his eyes, you took a deep breathe, deciding if you should keep on or just cut it off already. Truth was you could have continued like that for hours.

“Orlo, you’re the best person I know, and anyone incapable of seeing the many virtues you have must be completely blind. Including yourself.”

Silence took over the room for the following seconds, and you feared you had made his discomfort grow stronger. Still, you didn’t regret saying those things out loud. You had kept them to yourself for too long, and he needed to know his own value.

The Count simply stared at you, eyes shifting and mouth slightly ajar.

“I never knew you thought such nice things about me.” He finally muttered bashfully, as if he was apologizing.

“Well, I’ve been in love with you for years. That’s the reason I wrote those stories.” You casually added with your newfound confidence. Somehow, it still seemed to get him by surprise. “It has been painfully obvious and I think everyone else has realized already, but since you don’t seem to be able to read between the lines, I’m telling you.”

It felt liberating to finally get it out your chest. For years you had feared his rejection, but now that you witness his own insecurities making a display right in front of you, all you cared about was to make him feel he was worthy of love and respect. You didn’t even care if he didn’t requite your feelings.

“I’m such an idiot.” Count Orlo stood and looked at you, not being able to hide the red color his cheeks had taken.

“Indeed you are.” You smiled at him, touched by his innocent obliviousness. “A very cute one, though.”

Orlo stood in front of you, closer than usual. When you noticed him fidgeting in the spot and nervously running his tongue through his lips, you realized what his new intention was. Not leaving him time to regret his decision, you captured his lips with yours in a chaste but sweet kiss.

You couldn’t help but recall the way you had imagined and described that moment in your writings as you pressed your lips against his. You had always imagined your first kiss to be more passionate and intense, but as you pulled away slowly from the kiss, you thought that the sweetness and tenderness of the actual moment was more fitting than what you could have ever pictured.

“You should have told me earlier about this.” Orlo stated, face inches away from yours.

“I’m not done telling you everything.” You smiled contently. “There are still plenty of things I love about you and that I think you should know.”

“I can think of a few about you myself.” He whispered, more relaxed now. You liked this carefree side of him.

“I’d love to hear them, but they can wait until tomorrow.” Handing him the book you still had between your hands, you stated. “I think you have some Voltaire to catch up on first. And I should go back to my apartments. It’s late and there’s something I want to write about.”

Orlo’s smile was so big that it made your heart race. After leaving the book you had given him on his desk, he gave you back your writings.

“I can’t wait to read it.”

[you-did-well-moon]

Seventeen reaction to idol! s/o crying during an emotional performance

Type: Fluff/Angst

A/n: I don't know if you guys know just how much I love writing idol au’s. They’re always fun for me to create and imagine. I promise the next reactions will be much fluffier, I really did try to make this reaction as happy as I could. Some songs are in English while others are in Korean, but they all mean a lot to me. I asked people for songs, researched, got some from my own playlist. I totally didn’t cry looking at songs for this reaction. Thanks anon for requesting. Please don’t be afraid to talk to me or to request!!~Moon

TW : mental illness, curse words, insecurities, self-depreciating, mentions of suicide 

in this reaction it is assumed the public knows about your relationship

S.Coups

Song: Breathe - Lee Hi

“It’s alright if you run out of breath No one will blame you It’s okay to make mistakes sometimes Because anyone can do so Although comforting by saying it’s alright Are just words”

The song you were singing was made to comfort someone going through a hard time. To tell them it's okay to slow down a bit and be human. You had repeatedly told yourself you wouldn't cry during the performance, but in the end, emotion overwhelmed you. Singing the lyrics of the songs you had always wished there was someone to say those words to you. Now, you were singing them to thousands of people who had stories and scars of hurt and pain that would always follow them no much how fast they ran away.

You were proud to be able to give them comfort, and you embraced the tears with open arms knowing you were just as human as the crowd in front of you crying the same tears alongside you. With the live orchestra behind you, the back round of a star dotted sky, and your mic clutched in your hand, you raised your chin high as you felt the tears traveling down the slope of your nose.

Seungcheol wouldn't even notice he was crying, and he would not notice the cameras filming him. He wouldn't notice the crowd’s “aaw” when his distraught face showed up on the screen. He could only focus on you.  Seungcheol’s heart would sink deeper at each tear that dripped off your chin. His knee bounced with the anticipation of running to you and comforting you. When he did get to you, he took one look at your shaky hands paired with shiny eyes, and he rested his forehead against yours kissing your eyelids staying in that position until he was sure you weren't in such a sensitive state as you were on stage.

“You shouldn't cry when i’m so far away. How will I wipe your tears away then?”

Jeonghan

Song: Little Me - Little Mix

“I'd tell her to speak up, tell her to shout out Talk a bit louder, be a bit prouder Tell her she's beautiful, wonderful Everything she doesn't see You gotta speak up, you got to shout out And know that right here, right now You can be beautiful, wonderful Anything you want to be Little me”

This stage was a bit different than what your group was used to. You had partners in the form of 14-15 year old girls supposed to represent the younger selves of your group. All the time you had spent with your partner practicing led to the growth of a bond. Rayul had come to open up to you with some of her insecurities, and you had never failed to comfort her. You had grown fond of her. You saw yourself in her too much for you not to grow close to her. Now as you and Rayul moved as one on the stage, and you looked into her trusting eyes, you couldn't help but get emotional. 

As you cried, you hoped that no harm would come to your younger friend, but in the world you lived in, that wouldn't happen. It was the same world you grew up in, and you knew the world would to everything it could to break that little girl down. Rayul had a worried look in her eyes, but she kept dancing. At the end of the performance, you made sure to hug her tight apologizing in your head for all the hurt she would have to go through.

As Jeoghan watched you power through the performance with tears tracing lines down the contours of your face, he teared up. He was able to blink them back, but the camera caught his furrowed eyebrows and glinting eyes. Jeonghan was so used to you always being mature and competent that seeing your tears always managed to take him by surprise. Even then, Jeonghan couldn't stop the wobbly smile from slipping out at the fact that you still looked as fierce as ever on stage while crying. After the performance, he found you looking sadly at the mirror, and he back hugged you placing his chin on your shoulder. He would whisper words of praise and soft teasing into the crook of your neck

“You did as amazing as always love. Even crying through half the performance can’t stop your talent.”

Joshua

Song: I - Taeyeon

“But strong girl, you know you were born to fly Tears you’ve cried, all of the pain you’ve felt for the day you’ll fly even higher, It’s to prepare you. Butterfly, Everybody’s gonna see it soon”

You were fully prepared to cry, and you embraced the tears with open arms using them to make the performance more effective and sincere. The story of the song was one of losing and gaining. A story of a butterfly gaining enough courage and breaking free from the cocoon of pain trapping it to finally fly along the liberating expanse of the horizon. Throughout most of the performance you were dressed in oversized dark clothing until the last chorus came, and your backup dancers ripped away the somber clothing to reveal a more colorful outfit. 

As the song came to an ending, you reached your hands up to the sky when the backup dancers lifted you up, and you cried tears of happiness. Smiling brightly at the sky, you didn't mind the tears. You felt peaceful. After everything, you were still here. Still alive. Still smiling and laughing, and you weren't alone anymore. All the days on an empty stomach and all the late night dance practices weren't enough to rob you of your dreams. In the end, you were stronger and better. You were gently put down, and you smiled softly at the camera before disappearing backstage.

Joshua would have the fondest look in his eyes. Many fans would be making GIFs of the expression on his face because the moment was too sweet not to share and remember. Josh couldn't stop himself. He was just so proud. When he first met you, you were always cautious and scared of taking risks. As time progressed, trust in both yourself and what you do increased. You had come a long way, and he had been there for it all. He tried not to bring attention to himself, but he thought you deserved the standing ovation. Meeting you backstage he would smile at you as he walked towards you calling your name softly. He shrugged off his jacket wrapping it around your shoulders before tugging at the ends of it to bring you closer to him so he could place a kiss on your forehead. He would probably crack a lame joke. Or two...

“You really should be an actress babe, because you made half the stadium cry. The Oscars don't know what they're missing out on.”

Jun

Song: Home - Machine Gun Kelly X Ambassadors X Bebe Rexha

“Now tell me: how did all my dreams turn to nightmares? How did I lose it when I was right there? Now I'm so far that it feels like it's all gone to pieces Tell me why the world never fights fair I'm trying to find                                                                                                        Home A place where I can go To take this off my shoulders Someone take me home Someone take me”

This song was the result of a collaboration with Mark lee and Jackson Wang. You had all been sitting at the studio awkwardly with no ideas for songs until you bought up a common factor between the three of you. All of you were not from Korea with Jackson being from China, Mark being from Canada, and you coming from (country). Your nervous habit of spewing random facts in awkward situations ended up in your little group talking about all the homesickness and nights crying yourselves to sleep after having to say goodbye to your families. Which ultimately ended up in a song. All the memories of missing your families had to be dug up, but you were able to comfort each other through the song. The song ended up being such a hit that you guys were asked to perform it at an awards ceremony.

 You were a bit hesitant as first. Even releasing such a personal song was unnerving to you. Now you had to perform it? You had to sit yourself down and think about all the people in that audience who would find comfort in the song missing their homes or maybe still searching for one. You were able to pull through, but you hadn't been told they collected childhood pictures from all of you and were to display them on the back round set up. The song was already an emotional one, so when you turned around to a picture of yourself in your parent’s arms, you chocked up. At the end of the song the three of you met at the center of the stage, and Mark awkwardly pat your shoulder while Jackson put his arm around your shoulder tears also streaming down his face. You held the mic up to your mouth telling your parents you loved them before walking backstage with your arms on the boy’s shoulders and a peaceful smile on your face.

Jun would try hard to keep his tears at bay, but seeing his girlfriend cry while singing a song about trying to find home really did a number on him. Seeing the childhood pictures of you and the guys would make him remember his own infancy, and how much he missed his family and home some days. He tried to hide his tears from the camera by bowing his head, but he wanted to keep watching your performance. Jun never liked seeing you cry, but in that moment he understood just how much he really cared for you and how serious your relationship was. This was no normal “fling”. Seeing you backstage he would chuckle awkwardly wiping your tears away and trying to lighten up your mood.

“You send me a meme of myself crying to your song, and I won’t talk to you for three weeks. You just had to go and make an emotional song didn't you?”

Hoshi

Song: Black - Lee Hyori

“I dyed my hair to deny myself The red lipstick hid my pursed lips The thing that shook behind The colored lens It was me who didn’t want to be me”

Of course you knew what you were signing up when you decided to be an idol, but even all the years of training weren't enough to prepare you for the emotional toll it would have on you. Having to constantly put up a façade and be someone you’re not had led you astray and wandering down a path of identity confusion. You had come to rely too heavily on the dye, the contacts, the makeup, and the stage outfits. Sitting down to write this song, you were horrified at how you had been so eager to throw yourself away to appease someone who you had never met. How heavily you denied yourself in favor of “earning” the love of the industry. Someone can only take seeing a stranger in the mirror so many times.

You had sat down with your company talking about the idea for the song, and surprisingly, they agreed. Now standing on stage with millions of eyes on you, you felt free. You felt confident, like a weight had been taken off your shoulders. Your natural hair color flew along with you as you danced. Your eyes were your normal color, and the makeup on your face was natural. The stylists had even let you choose your own stage outfit. You knew the fans accepted you for the your idol self, but would they accept you for who the real you? For the first time in years, you didn't feel like a stranger to your own body and mind. That thought was what bought you over the edge, and soon, there were tears streaking down your face. 

Soonyoung would try being funny at first. When the camera came near him, he would solemnly shake his head pretending to wipe a tear away. But as your performance progressed and you started crying, his previous actions would come back to slap him in the face. Not only did he feel bad for joking around at your emotional stage, but he was now sobbing into Dokyeom’s shoulder. He was proud. You were finally putting your foot down after years of ignoring who you were under all the makeup and hair dye. After all the times he had told you the real you was just as important as who people want you to be, he was glad you had finally come to see the truth in his words. He saw you backstage looking into a mirror with worry etched all over your face. Wrapping his arms around your waist he would rest his forehead in the space between your shoulder blades trying to comfort you.

“You were absolutely perfect love. There’s no way they won’t accept you, and even if they don't what matters more is that you accept yourself”

Wonwoo

Song: Disappear - Eli 

“I've been feeling low, so low now Tryna do my best, don't know how Holding on to hope for life now But I become consumed with doubt, yeah Carrying the burdens of the world up on my shoulders Looking for the answers Maybe I'll know once I'm older”

You didn't make it to the first chorus before you broke down. You could hear you voice wavering from the mic, and you had to spend energy in stabilizing it as you danced the choreography. Tired was not enough to explain the overwhelming need to lie down and cry it out. Instead of waiting until you were backstage, you decided to let it all out as you performed. You were proud of being able to make music and make others happy, but you had forgotten how to make yourself happy. It seemed easier to disappear. If you disappeared there would be no expectations. No vile comments. No labels. No deadlines. You could be free of the burden of having to constantly seek out other’s validation. You remembered once being a hopeful girl with dreams bigger than people’s expectations.

 Now you were always shackled by doubts, and you felt weak for giving in to them. You tried your best to stand up against the voices of doubt and insecurity plaguing your mind, but instead you ended up feeding into them. You had sat yourself down multiple times asking yourself just when you held yourself to a lower standard than the voices in your head, but each time it ended in you hating yourself just a bit more. You were in a constant war with the negative thoughts circling around in your head, and you were tired of the never ending battle. As the song came to an end you let your knees give out falling to the floor as you backup dancers hid you from view of the camera, and you let out a sob that rang around the stadium.

The whole time as you performed, Wonwoo remained stone-faced. He was leaning forward elbows on his knees, and his hands grasped tightly together in front of his mouth. Although his hands did a good job of hiding his trembling lips, the camera still caught his clasped hands shaking and the turmoil swirling around in his dark eyes. Wonwoo was there with you through your good days and your bad days.  He had seen you hit rock bottom, but even with his heart shattering at each crack of your voice, he believed you were making progress. He believed you would be able to stand back up again, and he would be there for that too. When he heard your sob, he closed his eyes and winced as if it physically hurt him. Seeing you after the performance, he wouldn't say anything. He would tuck your face into his neck stroking your hair with sweet words whispered into the crown of your head.

“Just let it all out love, its alright. Don't worry about my shirt. You matter more than a piece of fabric, just let it all out. You were so brave”

Woozi

Song: Home Is Far Away - Epik High ft. Oh Hyuck

“I get more and more scared I'm running but my feet and heart forget why Dreams just become baggage now My only hope is to just leave it behind and run Rushing myself to take just one more step But when I looked up, I’m right in front of a cliff I look back and all these expectations are lined up behind me It pretends to support me but it’s pushing my back I wanted to place a comma in my heart some time”

You weren't used to doing this kind of performance. Especially at an award show. It was one of the simplest stages you've ever done. It was just you with a mic on a stage. No choreography, no props, and not even a mic stand. You supposed it made sense. You were not here to entertain. You were here to tell a story. It was not a story of finding home. It was the story of getting lost and straying away to wander a vile and cruel word. A story of not being able to find a way back and instead having to grow in a monstrous society. As you walked towards the center of the stage you straightened you gray bomber jacket paired with a white turtle neck, and you tugged at your black beanie touching the hollow of your neck to gain reassurance from your mother’s necklace. 

You made sure your clothes were as simple as possible. You wanted to appear as normal as possible. As human as possible. Staring out into the crowd, you cleared your throat and bought the mic up to your lips starting the song. You started strong, and you remained strong. Until you started one of the final verses. You were still lost. It felt like it had been so long since you left the safety of your comfort zone. You missed the person you used to be. You missed knowing who you were. You missed many things you would not know the comfort of for a long time. It started with you getting choked up. Then your vision blurred, tears hugging the corner of your eyes, and they slid down your cheek past your trembling lips to your jaw.

Jihoon had to bow his head every now and then to stop himself from getting too emotional. He would unconsciously nod his head at your lyrics relating to them. He teared up, but he wouldn't cry. His eyes would have a noticeable somber shine. He had actually been there when you were first producing the song, and he was also there when you were adding the final touches to it. He remembers with a heavy heart having to calm you down when you started worrying about whether the song was too personal and real or not. You worried you would get backlash for trying to be too personal with your fans, and he told you to stop thinking that way even helping you improve the song. Seeing you backstage, he wouldn't say much. He would stay by your side with your hand in his, and you leaning into him.

“It’s okay to cry y/n. You worked hard, and you did amazingly well”

DK

Song: Scars To Your Beautiful - Alessia Cara

“She has dreams to be an envy, so she's starving You know, covergirls eat nothing She says "beauty is pain and there's beauty in everything" "What's a little bit of hunger?" "I can go a little while longer," she fades away She don't see her perfect, she don't understand she's worth it Or that beauty goes deeper than the surface, oh, oh So to all the girls that's hurting, let me be your mirror Help you see a little bit clearer the light that shines within“

Although this performance was riddled with a deeper meaning, your outfit was still fun and colorful. With a white crop top, some ripped shorts, and some boots that went up to your knees. The most important, and difficult, part of your outfit was the pink blindfold that covered your eyes. You had to practice for weeks, and even then, some of the younger girls that would be dancing with you would help guide you across the stage when they needed to. Everything had been going fine and smoothly until the bridge of the song came on and a choir of young boys and girls sang along with you. You started tearing up, but no one could see it because of the blindfold. The song started to come to an end, and the girls led you to the center of the stage where they had set up a mirror.

 You took away the blindfold smiling brightly at yourself in the mirror. That's when the tears started slipping out no matter how much you blinked to hold them back because for once in your life, you didn't feel any repulsion at yourself looking at your reflection. You had dealt with the insecurities of almost every young girl your whole life. As if the numbers on the scale defined you, you came to starve yourself and pinch at the fat that seemingly clung to your body. It wasn't until you were an adult that you really started to come to terms with your body liking it just how it was. Smiling fondly at your reflection you bowed to the audience before walking off the stage.

Seokmin couldn't help the small smile that tugged at his lips at the sight of your performing. He would have a tender look etched on his face. Seokmin couldn't help but get a bit worried at you not being able to see as you danced, but a small part of him would feel prideful. Seeing your tears at the end of your performance even if you were smiling would be enough for a tear or two to slip out, but much like you, he was still smiling brightly. Being someone who was also riddled with insecurities his smile would falter a bit, but he also felt a sense of appreciation for you for having spoken about an issue many people struggled with. Seeing you after your performance, he would immediately take you into his arms joking around and laughing when you accidentally tripped on his foot almost sending both of you crashing to your ground. 

“I can't believe- how did you trip with clear vision, but you didn't trip on stage with that blindfold on huh?? Are you living in some kind up reverse world- Yah!! Don't walk away from me young lady”

Mingyu

Song: Human - Zico

“I keep lowering my head these days When did I last look up to the sky? The blurred world is filled with dust Because people like me struggled, yeah We always say, later, for the later Without my skipped birthdays I’m still in my teens As I grow old, I'm afraid of imagination A slide starts to look like a hill”

It was safe to say you were mad. Fuming. Enraged. Or as other people would call it, “acting problematic”. You were angry and tired of people constantly thinking they could define you, or that they had any say on how you should live your life. There was always something wrong with you, and you were exhausted of always having to change yourself for other’s standards on what they thought was best for you. You found yourself living a life you came to hate because other people were always telling you who should be. You came to forget the person you wanted to be. You always kept your mouth shut and your head lowered staying quiet when people tried defining who you were, but you had enough of it.

 You firmly told yourself things would get better if you just put up with it, but they never did. You put your foot down. You just wanted your life back. Now you had been invited to perform the song at an award show, and although the song was set in a melancholy song, you found yourself feeling absolutely livid. Your hands were trapped in shackles and throughout the whole performance your eyebrows were furrowed, and your face held a bitter expression. When you cried, they weren't tears of sadness. They were tears of frustration. At the end of the song you shook your shackled wrists and broke the shackles glaring at the camera before walking off the stage.

Mingyu’s lips would tug upwards when he first saw you on stage, but he would immediately purse his lips when he realized what song you were performing. He knew how much the song meant to you, especially when he had seen how much you had lost yourself in the battle between who others wanted you to be and who you wanted to be. He knew how much you had doubted yourself, and he had always tried to cheer you up, but he knew you could never be happy until you started focusing on what you wanted for yourself. Ever since you had written the song, confidence in yourself had surged and the foundation of faith in yourself and what you could do was stronger than ever. Mingyu had even given you the nickname “firecracker”. Seeing your tears and your cold eyes he would feel like his air supply was cut off because you were upset, and he wasn't there to help you. Seeing you backstage and would grasp both your hands in his and sincerely look into your eyes trying to comfort you.

“You’re free now firecracker, they can't control you anymore because you won’t let them. You've come so far, and I couldn't be prouder angel.

The8

Song: Broken - Anson Seabra 

“Am I broken? Am I flawed? Do I deserve a shred of worth or am I just another fake, fucked up lost cause? And am I human? Or am I something else? 'Cause I'm so scared and there's no one there To save me from the nightmare that I call myself”

You were horrified. Your fans and Minghao knew you would be releasing a new song. They just thought it would be one of your usual songs. A happy and bubbly song with an energetic choreo. This song was far from happy, and it would be released at the same time you were performing it, so people could be surprised instead of already knowing what to expect. This would be a water performance too, and the choreography was the first contemporary dance you would do for one of your title tracks. The dance was more anguished and solemn than any of your other choreographies.  The whole reason you were turning a new leaf was because you hadn't been feeling like yourself lately. When you were once so sure of yourself, you had begun questioning yourself.

 You felt numb. Some days you couldn't feel anything. Not the warmth of happiness in your chest. No sadness to burden your heart. No anger to cloud your mind. It was always just empty. You began to feel like someone less than human because with an empty heart and soul, what were you? You were also nervous because with how hectic your schedules had been, you didn't have a chance to tell Minghao you weren't feeling mentally well, and you knew he wouldn't be too happy finding out like this. As the performance ended, you fell to your knees grasping at your neck and breathing raggedly. You couldn't help but cry feeling helpless and acting like you were drowning before letting your body fall into the water. The stadium went dark giving you a chance to run backstage.

Minghao would shift in his seat slightly leaning forward when he noticed you were performing. His features softened slightly at first glance, but his eyebrows would furrow and his eyes would narrow when he noticed this song was vastly different than any of your previous works. He would realize the sad situation you were in that he was seemingly was too busy to take notice of. The cameras would catch the corners of his lips curled down and the shaking of his head. Although he looked pissed off on the outside, he was panicking on the inside. When he saw the tears making their way down your face and your body fall, the only thing he could think of was being there to catch you. He wouldn't hesitate to make his way backstage immediately after the lights he went out. Upon seeing you he could bring your face into the crook of his neck lowly murmuring comforting words into your ear.

“No matter how many times you fall, I'll catch you. No matter how many times you cry, I'll cry with you. No matter how many times you laugh, I'll laugh with you. I will always have your back, just let me in.”

Seungkwan

Song: She’s In The Rain - The Rose

“She’s in the rain You wanna hurt yourself I’ll stay with you You wanna make yourself go through the pain It’s better to be held than holding on No whoa“

The stage was a bit uncomfortable, but you were willing to sacrifice a bit of your comfort if it meant performing a song many needed to hear. Before going on stage, the stylists had soaked your stage outfit in water to make it look like you had been the victim of a harsh downpour making the clothes stick to your skin. They has also made your hair look like it was wet, and your makeup was a bit smudged around the edges of your eyes. You had fun with the choreography since it included an umbrella, but you were more focused on singing the song hoping you could deliver the message of the song clearly and efficiently. The making of the song was centered around making people understand it was okay to rely and confide on others. You knew how tiring it was to go through bad days without anyone to hold your hand through it.

 You believed you would come out of it stronger if you handled your demons alone, but at the end of the day it left you exhausted. You had been one of those people once. Then you met Seungkwan, and he managed to worm his loud jokester self into your heart. When he witnessed you having a break down, you fought him when he tried hugging you, but you eventually let yourself get comforted by him. It started with Seungkwan, and eventually you were letting yourself lean on people when it got particularly hard. As the song came to an end, you clutched your umbrella knowing people in that crowd were struggling. You cried unapologetically hoping they would find someone reliable to fall back on, before you covered your face with the umbrella and walking off the stage sniffling and trying to control your tears.

Seungkwan already knew what song you would be performing, and while getting his hair done, he had repeatedly told himself he wouldn't cry. All the members had rolled their eyes because everyone knew he would be bawling by the end of the night. Indeed, the minute he saw any form of sadness on your face, he himself burst into tears. He was quick to wipe them, but more always replaced them. Seungkwan really did try controlling himself, but as he thought of how much you had grown and how you were encouraging people to do the same, he couldn't handle the emotions now crashing over him like a tidal wave. Seeing you after the performance, he would whine and playfully fight with you while cradling your face.

“You know my ugly crying isn't something anyone should see. Why would you make me that emotional. I can't believe I just cried in front of thousands of people- are you laughing at me right now?!”

Vernon

Song: You Don't Know What It’s like - Katelyn Tarver

“Let me just stop trying Let me just stop fighting I don't want your good advice Or reasons why I'm alright You don't know what it's like You don't know what it's like Don't look at me like that Just like you understand Don't try to pull me back” 

At first you had strongly opposed the stylists wanting you to go on stage practically bare faced. If you went on that stage with little to no makeup, people would be able to see how much color your face had lost and the dark bags currently residing under your eyes. Sitting in front of the mirror, you jokingly thought you looked like a zombie. Thinking about it more seriously, you realized just how miserable you looked. You eventually ended up agreeing with the stylists, because you had a message to give. You were so tired of people telling you it was just a phase whenever you were upset. Sometimes you wanted to be not okay, and you wanted to let it all out so could return to your usual self eventually.

 People always seemed to catch you at your worst moments, and they always wanted to sit you down and force you out of your upset stage. Telling you all the reasons you had to smile while the reasons you had to cry chaotically bumped around in your head. Why couldn't they just be there for you as you calmed yourself down? Why were they so hell bent on giving you advice that flew in one ear and out the other? Those questions rang around your head making tears spring out of your eyes. You walked off the stage with your head bent, and your hand grasped to your mouth as if trying to control the sobs echoing around in your chest.

Hansol already knew what song you were performing, but he couldn't have known how exactly you were going to execute the stage. When he saw you appear with no makeup, his eyes would widen a bit. The glumness on your face would be clearly visible. The cameras caught him visibly deflate as he took in your solemn and exhausted appearance. When he caught sight of your tears his lips would part a bit, and he looked shock because “oh my god, my s/o is crying, and I can't do anything about it right now”. Then his eyebrows furrowed and his expression would change from shocked to melancholy. He would walk briskly backstage to your waiting room seeing you sitting in a cough with your head in your hands. Sitting beside you silently, he would rest a hand on your knee and lean his head on your shoulder trying to comfort you as much as he could.

“I’m here love, no matter what, I’m here. Just hold my hand for now, tomorrow will be a better and brighter day. I’ll make sure of it.”

Dino

Song: The Day Before - Nell

“At first, I hated you a lot. I cried a lot too But after being like that for a while I wondered what in the world I was doing

Actually, it’s like this. What use is it to hold onto something that is scattering? Only the heart will hurt more But again I wonder, what is The purpose of living like this?”

You wanted to hate them so badly. When you first heard of the news, it was anger that came before sadness and grief. Anger because after all the promises and late nights talking, they left you. They left this life and with that they left you. You didn't think it was fair. You got to live and wake up every day, and they didn't. No one had ever known you had a brother, and they probably never will. After spending all your days crying and lamenting what could have been, you had to step back and take a good look at yourself because you knew no matter how many times you cried or screamed angry words at his picture, it wouldn't bring him back.

 You realized the more you tried to hold on to someone that wasn't here anymore, the more pain you put yourself though. You had to accept his departure, and you just had to hope he was happy wherever he was. You didn't want to live a life where you spent all your time wasting time and energy in something that would only tear you down in the long run. Standing on stage you let slip a small smile as you saw a sea of many light sticks waving to the melody of your song. With the song coming to an end, you imagined his smiling face deciding it would be the last time you cried for him. When you did cry, it felt like a weight had been taken from your shoulders. 

Chan would hear what song you were performing, and his heart would claw up to his throat. He was sitting right next to you while you were writing the song with angry tears as you stared ruefully at the computer screen. Watching you cry almost every day, he knew you would eventually get better, but back then, watching you struggle to keep your tears at bay on a daily basis was one of the hardest things he’s ever had to do. He was tense the whole performance worried you wouldn't be able to handle singing the song. Then he saw you let out a little smile as the song ended. You had never once smiled while crying for him. He knew, that you had let him go. Now that you were at peace, so was Chan. Meeting you backstage, he was a bit hesitant, but seeing you smile brightly at him, and he would smile right back hugging you tightly.

“You've cried enough the last few days for a lifetime don't you think so babe? Let’s go eat, food cheers everyone up”

[colehasapen]

(ONE SHOT) atiniir STAR WARS

Alpha-17 had never wanted a Jedi, the mere idea of it made him angry and filled him with disgust. He had been told since decanting that he and his brothers had been made for the Jedi, and for all of a minute A-17 had been excited to meet the legendary warriors - then training had begun. Alpha’s brothers died and Spar left, and that excitement had faded, to be replaced by fury when the CCs and CTs started being decanted as tiny cadets with breakable limbs and too-thin shoulders.

Alpha and his batch had been brought into the world fully grown, able to - mostly - cope with the harsh training the Kaminiise and Cuy’val Dar put them through with minimal losses, but the Littles? They expired in droves, entire batches wasted away and their too-small bodies recycled, and Alpha hated the Jetiise. Hated that they’d have him and his vod’e made, only to let them die. The Jedi were supposed to preserve life. They were supposed to be the Jedi’s soldiers, and yet they weren’t good enough to be preserved - they’d always be less-then.

Alpha had done what he could for his vod’ike. He had been hard and unyielding, because he’d rather the cadets learn from him than risk them being given to someone like Priest. He had bitten his tongue, kept his thoughts to himself whenever the subject of the Jetiise came up, and kept working. He continued to train the cadets, to put them through the ringer so that the Kaminiise would get the results they wanted, and kept his anger under control whenever he’d come to the morning meal to see more and more of his vod’ike missing. He had made sure that his vod’ike could handle anything thrown at them, and he proudly watched them grow and flourish. They’d be enough, Alpha would be sure of it, because if they weren’t they’d be dead.

Meeting the Jetiise, he had been unimpressed. These were the beings they were made to serve? These unprepared, arrogant aruetiise were who they were expected to die for? Alpha-17’s anger had only grown as more and more of his vod’ike fell, as the Jetiise led themselves and their troops to their deaths. His advice is ignored, so Alpha had stopped offering it and simply worked to keep what troopers he could out of danger as more and more of the Jedi he was assigned to died because of their incompetence.

Then he’s introduced to Obi-Wan Kenobi and his shiny - his padawan - Anakin Skywalker.

Before that moment, Alpha hadn’t met a single shiny Jedi, and while Skywalker may be an arrogant little shit with a superiority complex a mile wide that hid a crippling inferiority complex, the ARC couldn’t help but see the Littles in his place. So when he sees a mistake in Kenobi’s other-wise - and very surprisingly - iron-clad tactics that could possibly put someone in needless danger, Alpha speaks up.

And Kenobi actually listens.

Alpha keeps speaking up after that, keeps pushing the boundaries to see what he can get away with before the Jetii snaps and shows his true colours. Kenobi never does though - he stays patient and witty, and always takes Alpha’s opinions into account, and even adds to them in ways that Alpha had never expected of a Jedi. The times when he doesn’t agree with him, Kenobi always explains the reasons behind it, and Alpha doesn’t know why he’d been stuck with such useless shabuire when he could have had Kenobi the entire time. Kenobi is intelligent, and competent, and while he never lets Alpha have as much fun as he would have liked - and this usually includes just removing the beings annoying him through deadly force - he can be so vicious when he wants to be. He enjoys a fight, Alpha can see it by the grin on his face and the glint in his eyes whenever he throws himself into battle - he flourishes when he can pull out his jetii’kad and is stunning when there’s blood on his teeth. He speaks fluent Mando’a, has raised an adiik, and Alpha is Mando enough to admit that the copper haired Jetii had been the star of many of Alpha’s most pleasurable dreams. He’s Mandokar , and Alpha isn’t shy about the way he admires how his Jetii looks in armour.

Alpha-17 may hate the Jetiise, but Kenobi is different. He’s Alpha’s, and he’d follow the man to haran itself - not that he’d say as much out loud.

So of course that ends up being the case.

He follows Kenobi to Jabiim, to death and destruction and never-ending rain. When they start the campaign, they achieve victory after victory to report back to the Senate, but the Republic assault vehicles falter in the storms and get stuck in the mud, and those victories grow fewer and farther between until they’re nothing more than a pipe dream. None of them have had a proper sleep in days and rations are running short. Alpha himself is running on spite and stims alone as he helps Kenobi lead the assault to protect the Senate’s fucking mining intrests as the alliance with the Jabiimise rebels fracture. It’s not the Seps that take advantage of this, but Alpha actually wishes it was. It’s Dooku’s pet assassin that takes them, using the confusion and panic caused by an explosion to snatch both of them off the field and spirit them away to her own person dungeon.

Alpha finds himself strung up in a torture machine, muscles extended far past what they shoulder be and bulging under his torn, bruised skin. He doesn’t know how long he’s been here for or if the troopers survived the bombings, and he doesn’t know where his Jetii is. He knows that Ventress has him, because she mocks him with the fact while she tries to pry information out of him on the GAR and their garrisons - and while Alpha would be perfectly willing to hand over intel on the Senate and the bastards on it, that’s not what she’s after. She wants information that could lead to the deaths of his vod’ike, so Alpha holds his tongue and weathers the torture.

They continue this little song and dance for what seems like days, maybe even weeks - Alpha’s lost count - before something changes. Ventress decides to play their game differently. She has Alpha released from his restraints, and his over-abused muscles cramp immediately upon changing their position for the first time in how many days, sending him toppling to the blood-caked floor of his cell.

“Carry him if you must.” Ventress says in disgust, and Alpha snarls at her, limbs spasming. As much as he’d love to throw himself at her and beat that smug look off of her face, he can’t make his arms listen to him.

A droid catches each arm before he can even try to make his protesting limbs respond, twisting them behind his back and cuffing him before they haul him forward, carrying him out of the cell he had been occupying since he had first woken up after the explosion. He tries to get his feet under him, to walk on his own, but after being strung up like he had been and with his arms cuffed behind his back and shocking him at random intervals, he can’t get enough balance. He doesn’t make it easy for them, of course, spitting and snarling threats and digging his heels in, but it only makes Ventress laugh.

He finds himself being thrown into a completely different cell - literally - and without his arms available to catch himself with, he’s left to fall flat on his face in an ungraceful sprawl that, had he seen any of the brats land in during training, would have led to someone getting kicked across the sparring mats until they learned how to roll. The explosion of pain across the bridge of his nose warns of another break, and Alpha bites out another furious curse as he forces himself to his knees to look around his new environment.

Alpha stills, “General?”

For a moment, he thinks his Jetii is dead and that’s why Ventress had finally let him see the man, planning on leaving him with the body until he either talks or dies, but then Kenobi’s head lifts, and he mumbles something that sounds like Alpha’s name.

He’d been thrown into a cell with his Jedi, and - Ka’ra, Kenobi looks worse than Alpha feels. He’s not in a torture machine like Alpha had been, and is instead actually strung up, shackled to the broken pipe above his head. The pipe is far enough above him that the General is forced to balance on his toes or risk dislocating his shoulders. The rags that had once been distinctive Jedi robes hang off his ravaged body in bloodied strips, soaked by the water steadily dripping onto the skin of his back, turning it ashen and nearly blue from the chill. Worse of all is the skin-tight leather hood that had been pulled over the Jedi’s head, leaving only the blood-shot blue of his eyes visible.

Something about the thing makes Alpha’s skin crawl with unease and disgust, and makes his fury pound like a drumbeat in his ears. Kenobi looks small and breakable and defeated, and it ignites a blaze of choking hatred in his chest. He shouldn’t look like that, and Alpha will tear Ventress apart for daring to hurt one of his people.

But there’s still fire in his Jetii, Alpha can tell the moment their eyes meet. He can see thousands of plans of escape running through Kenobi’s head, and it makes him grin, sharp-toothed and bloodied.

[linkspooky]

Nobara and Gojou

Nobara and Gojou have suffered similiar defeats in the Shibuya Incident Arc. They both lost, despite being clearly stronger than their opponent. Every single one of the main trio (Nobara, Megumi, Yuji) parallels a member of the flashback arc’s trio in some way (Gojou, Shouko, Getou), but while Nobara’s most obvious parallel may seem to be Shouko I would also argue she parallels Gojou quite a bit. Both Gojou and Nobara are characters that focus on individualism and duty above all else, in ways that Megumi, and Yuji don’t. Nobara parallels Gojou in the worst ways, she shares all of his flaws. 

1. Strength Isn’t Everything.

Jujutsu Kaisen has always been a manga about nuance and balance. There’s more than one way to skin a cat (or exercise a curse). Which is why we’ve seen the story introduce two seemingly opposing ideas. Number one, we don’t live in a world where you win just by being strong. Number two, you can’t close a gap in strength through petty tricks alone. 

These ideas seemingly contradict one another. The second establishes that if there’s an absolute difference in strength then strategy won’t even matter. The first establishes that strength isn’t that you can’t win a fight just by being strong. However these ideas are not opposites, they’re complementary. What they suggest is that the world is a complex place, and there’s no way one single strategy will win every possible fight. There are times when strength wins the fight, there are times when strategy is the way to go. The solution isn’t to favor one or the other, but rather to find the balance between the two. 

Before Nobara gets into her fight we’re shown a fight where Megumi has the starring role. The world view of the shaman Megumi is fighting against is important for this. 

The shaman that Megumi fights has a world view of “being strong makes me free to do whatever I want.” He believes strength to be permissive. Being strong means being competent enough to accomplish whatever you want, in any situation. 

If you want to do something, and you have the ability to do it, you should be abel to do it. That’s why it’s permissive. Strength grants permission. Getou brings up the idea in Premature Death. Gojou technically has the ability to slaughter every single human that’s not a shaman on the face of the earth. If he’s able to do it, then why can he tell Getou that it’s impossible? If the world really were as simple as Getou suggested it to be, then being strong really would be enough. Gojou would be capable of doing anything, like some kind of god. 

However, even the shaman’s own cursed technique reverses this idea of strength. Attacks that are strong around him become weak, whereas weak counters become strong. There is no idea of absolute strength. No person is going to be strong in every circumstance all the time. 

That shaman is beaten not by Megumi’s decision to face his head on, but rather by his choice to make a tactical retreat and rethink the situation after figuring out his cursed technique. Strength is not the absolute decider of everything. More than that, Megumi and Yuji were both choosing to cooperate with one another, even though cooperation was harder for both of them at this point. 

They both admit the hardest part of the fight isn’t even fighting against an enemy. That it would be easier if they were just strong enough to fight everything individually on their own, however, the fight is won by Yuji listening to Megumi, and Megumi choosing cooperation. 

This is also the exact opposite advice that Gojou gave Megumi. Megumi’s tendency is to sacrifice himself, and defer to others because he has no confidence in himself and his own individual strength. However, once again this reflects the complex nature of reality there’s no advice that applies to every single situation in the world. Gojou’s advice won the fight in Origin of Obedience, but if Megumi fought like Gojou did he would have lost this arc. 

We see Maki, and Nobara who are both characters who parallel strongly to Gojou and think they are people who can accomplish everything they want with the power of individual strength, make several critical mistakes. First, Maki doesn’t even consider the possibility Gojou could have lost. Because, Maki’s world view is the same as Gojou’s, the stronger opponent should always win. Maki is a character trying to overcome her family circumstances just by becoming the strongest possible shaman she can be to prove them wrong. 

Nobara makes a similiar mistake to Maki. We see her lose the fight because of the absolute confidence she has in her own strength, that she can win every situation by being strong enough to fight on her own. 

Rather than keeping the person she wants to protect close to her, Nobara sends her away so she can fight on her own. She assumes the weaker person will only get in her way and is safer farther away from the battle. Which is also literally the premise of Gojou’s entire fight in the subway, he goes in alone because he assumes that any other jujutsu sorcerer would only get in the way, just like the innocent civillians were there solely existing to get in the way of his techniques.

Nobara gets arrogant and refuses to analyze the other person’s jujutsu techniques and gets critically wounded. At which point we see Nobara run against the flaw of her own world view. That if she can only accomplish things with strength, then the situations where she’s weak she’s completely helpless. Nobody is strong all the time, and if she’s weak then there’s nothing she can do. If everything is decided by strength than the weak have no choice. 

2. Nobara and Gojou, Broken in the Same Way 

During Nobara’s introduction chapter Gojou says that Shaman’s have to possess a sort of craziness, to jump into battle risking life and limb like it’s nothing at all. 

While Yuji feels absolutely nothing putting his life at risk to an almost suicidal degree, I would say Nobara is the one who’s actually the closest to what Gojou describes. Just like Gojou she has the single-mindedness to believe that is she’s strong enough that she should be capable of anything. 

Nobara and Gojou assert their individualism over everything else. They don’t bend to the world, they bend the world to the way they want it. Yuji’s strong and confident in a similiar way but he always puts the wants and desires of others over himself in every situation, but Nobara is always about what she wants first and foremost. However, there are two parts to Nobara and Gojou’s world view it’s not just about strength, but also about duty. Gojou and Nobara are extremely selfish people but that doesn’t mean they don’t care about others. They see their absolute strength as an obligation to use it to protect others.

If the situation is to go all out and kill the enemy, or save the life of a person right in front of them they’ll always make the choice that spares the innocent life. They are strong, but their strength is duty bound, it’s something they tend to use for others rather than themselves. Even in Nobara’s choice to send away the aide that was with her, she was using herself as a distraction so she could get away safely. They’re selfish people, but they don’t necessarily put themselves, and their well beings over others. 

Gojou is technically able to get out of the Shibuya situation is he just massacres every human on the inside of the curtain, but he’d never make that choice. So we have Nobara and Gojou caught between the same rock and a hard place. They can’t sacrifice others, but they can’t cooperate with them either. For Gojou and Nobara the most important thing is their own individualism and their world view. 

What Nobara hates is being told she’s wrong in any way. She views her world view as absolute. What she refuses to do is revise her opinions. She can’t be wrong. She cannot accept the fact that other people might have views that contradict hers, and that multiple points of view besides her own can coexist at the same time. 

If you look at the way Nobara judges the difference between Maki and Mai. She accepts Maki because Maki is more similiar to her and she likes Maki, and refuses to accept Mai because she doesn’t really like Mai. If she doesn’t like Mai than she doesn’t even want to bother thinking about her world view. It’s a narrow minded and flawed way of thinking. Gojou and Nobara tend to push other people away from them for two reasons, one they believe they can accomplish everything they want to do alone because they have such absolute confidence in themselves, and two they think they already see everything. Gojou assumes so because he has the six eyes and perceives the infinity, and Nobara because she thinks she’s smarter than the judgemental country people she was raised around. 

Gojou and Nobara lose in a similiar way. If it’s a contest of sheer strength they’ll never lose. Gojou pulls off a miracle and activates his territory for mere seconds, and slaughters thousands of curses at once. Nobara is so crazy, she wins a game of chicken against a literal demon and is completely willing to light herself on fire and let herself burn if her opponent burns with her. They don’t lose because they’re weaker than their opponents. They both get surprised by what they didn’t know. They specifically didn’t know it because Gojou, and Nobara already assumed they knew everything. 

Gojou is blindsided by the fact that Getou’s body still exists in some form and because of that his brain completely stalls in a critical moment. Nobara loses because she doesn’t really understand the cursed technique of the person she’s fighting against so even though it might be weaker than hers she’s still overcome. 

Gojou and Nobara are both people who assume they should be able to accomplish anything with their own strength. They both have inhuman levels of strength and determination. Which is why we see they’re similiar even down to the way they move their bodies, they act and move like inhuman puppets when pushed to their absolute limits. Hunched shoulders, stiff zombie like movements, it’s a clear parallel. 

If everything in the world really was decided by strength and determination than Gojou and Nobara would never lose. Neither of them are lacking in strength, or their determination to help others. But as Gojou says towards the beginning of the manga he has the ability to just murder all the higher ups in the Jujutsu world but that won’t really change anything. Gojou and Nobara are both fundamentally unable to accept other people, and are always distancing themselves from others and trying to fight on their own. That’s why for both of them, it’s not enough for Nobara, or Gojou alone to be strong. 

[harvardfitness]

Harvard Fitness Health Supplement Company #1 Authentic Supplements

Harvard Fitness People that follow my stuff know I generally write about nutrition, supplements, training, and other topics that are more science based than subjective topics, such as what is covered in this article. I decided to shuck my science geek persona, and write on a topic I know will be helpful to thousands of would be and want to be fitness models.

As well a known "hard core" science based no BS writer, why I am writing what some will perceive as a "fluff" article? Over the years I have gotten hundreds, perhaps thousands, of gals that ask me via email, letters, or in person "how do I become a fitness model Will? You have been in the business a long time, surly you of all people should know." I get this from newbies and I get this from women that have been at it a while but have been unable to "break in" effectively.

So You Wanna Be a Fitness Model?

The fact is, I have been in the fitness, health, and bodybuilding biz a long time, and though I am known as a science and nutrition based "guru" type, I have trained many a fitness athlete, and judged fitness and figure/bikini shows for the NPC, Fitness America, Fitness USA, and other federations as well as given marketing and business advice to all sorts of athletes, including fitness models. So, it's not as far fetched as it might seem that I am going to use this space to cover a non scientific topic, which is, how one goes about being a fitness model.

This article will be useful to both experienced and novice types looking to "break in" to the biz. If you are already a professional and successful fitness model, I am sure you may still glean some useful information from this article.

First the bad news, there is no one way to become a successful fitness model. There is no single path or magic secret. There are however some key things a person can do to greatly improve their chances of "making it" in the fitness biz as a model, and perhaps using that success as a launching pad to greater things, such as movies, TV, etc.

Several of the top fitness models (Trish Stratus and Vicki Pratt come to mind but there are many others) have gone onto careers in entertainment of all kinds. Bottom line, though there is no magic secret to being successful as a fitness model, this article will be about as close to a blueprint for success as you will find.

"Do I need to compete?"

This is a question I get asked all the time and it's not an easy one to answer. In fact, the answer is (drum roll) yes and no. The person has to deicide why they are competing in the first place to answer that question. For example, do you need to compete if your goal is to be a successful fitness model?

The answer is no. Many of today's well-known fitness models have never competed, or they competed in a few small shows and it was clearly not part of their success as fitness models. However, competing does have its potential uses.

One of them is exposure. At the upper level shows, there will often be editors, publishers, photographers, supplement company owners, and other business people. So, competing can improve your exposure. Also, competing can make sense if you are trying to build a business that is related to your competing or will benefit from you winning a show.

For example, say you have a private training gym you are trying to build. Sure, having the title of say Ms Fitness America, or winning the NPC Nationals and being an IFBB pro, will help your reputation and the notoriety of your business. There are many scenarios were it would help to have won a show for a business or other endeavors.

On the other hand, it must be realized that winning a show does not in any way guarantee success in the business end (and it really is a business) of being a fitness model. The phone wont ring off the hook with big offers for contracts. Also, it's very important to realize that it's common that the 4th or 6th or 8th place finisher in a fitness or figure show will get more press than the winner. Why? Though the winner might have what it took to win that show, it's often other gals the editor, publishers, supplement companies etc, feel is more marketable.

I have seen it many times where the winner was shocked to find she didn't get nearly the attention she expected and other girls who placed lower have gotten attention in the form of photos shoots, magazine coverage, etc. Something to keep in mind when you ask yourself the important question "do I need to compete and if so, why am I competing?" Answer that question, and you will know the answer to the heading of this section. Winning a title of some sort can be a stepping stone, but it is not in itself any guarantee of success in the fitness industry. It's like a college degree; it's what you do with it.

Now. If you compete for the fun of it, then by all means go for it, but the above is focusing on competing as it relates to the business aspect of being a fitness model.

Right body, wrong federation?

Ok, so after reading the above you have decided you are going to compete, or will compete again. If you don't plan to compete, you can skip this section. The biggest mistake I see here is so many gals have the right body for the wrong federation. Each federation has its own judging criteria and a competitor will do poorly simply because they didn't bother to research which show would be best suited for them.

I will give you a perfect real world example of this. Recently I judged a show whose criteria for the figure round was the women should be more on the curvy softer side with some tone, vs. being more muscular and athletic with less bodyfat that other federations might allow. At this show one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen came out. She was very proportional, great muscle tone, lean, and athletically shaped with narrow hips and waist and wider shoulders. How did she do at this show? She didn't even place in the top ten!

Why? Because she was not what we were instructed to look for and didn't fit the criteria. After the show I informed her that she looked great, but this may not the federation for her. I told her she had much more of an NPC type body, where a little more muscle, athletic build, and less bodyfat is rewarded.

The following week I was judging an NPC fitness, figure, and bodybuilding show and there she was. How did she do? She won the entire show with all judges voting her number one unanimously.

[schiste-argileux]

Idw Prowl is an evil SOB (took him two years to send the Wreckers to Garrus-9 and help Maxy (who was protecting all the war crimes the Bots did), put Maxy’s torturer and a war criminal on board the Lost Light cuz why not, sent Pharma to Delphi knowing it was DJD territory)

Prowl... Prowl’s creation and competence in his area of work is astounding. He is brilliant, creative, and defiantly apathetic of this world. But, he is very human in his own way. IDW Prowl is selfish, yet not. He is a unique in that aspect because most people make decisions like his for the sole reason of benefiting themselves. But Prowl’s sole reason of existing is to create PEACE. 

Peace. Peace can only be done when people are complacent, happy, and satisfied. When things are stationary. Stable. 

But life is never stable. Elements desire to form bonds, yet are almost always leaning towards to instability... Prowl’s form of PEACE is a world where there is no fighting. But everything sentient requires to fulfill its desires. As long as there is desire, people will fight. 

A world of PEACE would be a world of full control, there are no surprises, no change. Safety, routines, and constants. No creativity, no development... nothing. stagnant. 

But I must admire Prowl’s tenacity and dedication to this world! 

He sacrifices everything for the sake of the directive, preserve cybertron, PEACE. He sacrifices his morals (Robot Gets Bullied By a Human), his dignity (Recent News, Cop Accepts Orgy For The Means of Establishing Peace, his body (Recent News, Cop gets Molested by A Spider for The Autobot Cause), and of course, thousands of lives (Not Recent News). :D Prowl respects and understands that there will always be chaos and instability, and he is so very flexible around it all! He literally can maximize everything and anything he has. He is the embodiment of consequentialism with a lil dash of politics. I wish my group project members were 1% as productive as him! Prowl tries to put everything black and white, and he gets upset when things get far more tricky, and wants to get everything in control so people can stay safe and remain in peace and not fight! And that’s a respectable goal! Control can be good, it means one understands and is able to retain themselves and the thing they are controlling. But Prowl doesn’t want to accept that there are things out of his control. And Prowl likes to think he’s justified when he controls the uncontrollable. 

I mean, yeah, if he didn’t do what he did, the autobots would have been six feet under A LOT EARLIER. Optimus is not a good leader, preserving organic life over his own soldiers? Psh. Look at Spike, he’s got valid points and can I understand why he left the ‘bots. Prowl’s probably thinking everyday, DAMN, OP, WHY R U SO DUMB. LISTEN WE NEED TO FEED OUR SOLDIERS AND PRIORITIZE OUR SPECIES LIVES INSTEAD OF THIS FUCKING CARBON BASED CIRCLE. HELLO??? And literally Prowl could have been like I’m gonna get ya assassinated so I CAN HAVE IT MY WAY. But Prowl was BORN for the RULES. To follow, to MAKE PEACE. Killing the prime figurehead is against that, even if it would make his life way easier! (hence, not that selfish and also sad that your life is the rules. That’s a short leash, but he makes due)

Honestly I feel bad for Prowl. Must suck to be so big brain that everyone hates you when you say the truths (but also you could learn some more tricks from Jazz to be nicer and hide the truth, but that’s scary because a nicer prowl means more people he can trick and use. Thanks Prowl for being so straightforward! Now people can avoid you easier). He's so straightforward about things that need to be done, he’s in constant denial about the grey area of life!

That’s why when Spike slapped Prowl with reality slaps, Prowl lost some of his shit. Remember, nearly everyone had the edgy depressed time in their teens or young adult years where you realize the world is truly unfair and nothing is black and white? Yeah. Slap that on a 6+ million year old robot with a battle computer and is capable of big brain CPU-age, and was literally built for the sole purpose of enforcing rules and making peace? And no one really cared about Prowl enough to understand him and his background. So Prowl goes through his angst moment alone with his huge titties, frustrated. THIS. IS. WHY. YOU. COMMUNICATE. YA DINGUS. 

Prowl doesn’t become a school shooter like Pharma cuz hes got bigger brain and a lot more power and control over himself, but he literally becomes Shadow The Hedgehog (Even if the world’s against me I’ll fight like I’ve always have). HE’S GONE ROGUE. MA’AM, SIR, THE FUCKING OREO COOKIE HAS TRANSFORMED AND ROLLED OUT.  like. OP was the one thing holding prowl back, which was good! But now prowl’s on the roll and bumblebee is too nice and passive to hold him back. + the bombshell brainwash? feels so bad. being prowl sucks. because Prowl is a necessary evil. 

At least he’s wonderfully blunt about his goal to create a peaceful cybertron, which makes it easier if you want to avoid him or smth. meanwhile you have fake people IRL that smile their way through and then slit your throat and you won’t even know it was them (hey jazz, no offense, but that’s what spec ops does). Fakers are the scariest enemy, but Prowl is still a threat, just not as big as a someone who fluffs you up on a balloon and then pops it. Prowl would just be like, hey, you’re really useful, come over here in my white van i wanna show you something and then maybe you get destroyed. But hey! You were the one with the highest chance of surviving compared to other people! Isn’t that great? You’re so skilled WOW. (Prowl gets punched. Again!) Prowl represents the necessary evil in society. We WILL ALWAYS HAVE EVIL people in this world. But Prowl is a far better evil than people who do evil for their own selfish reasons. It’s like how we have law enforcers and politicians . It’s basically giving them legal rights to do illegal things (lmao). BUT we need them regardless. We need those people to get their hands dirty, possibly killed, so that people can live in innocence and peace. 

I don’t think Prowl ever realized that he was a necessary evil, and when Spike showed him that, he was bitter. But he accepted it. Which I respect because most people can’t be bothered to understand themselves and just throw themselves in denial, and point fingers for their flaws. Prowl sucks up and understands who he is, and he makes the best of it to achieve his goal.  I mean, honestly? Prowl is probably a miracle worker. Not in a Ratchet sense. But look at the way modern governments run, nothing gets done, everything is stalled because no one has the guts to make sacrifices. Prowl would have gotten a shit ton of things done, man, and take quick efficient action. Even if he sacrifices many things for it.  (Warning. I do not condone any taking of lives, NO ONE has the right to judge whenever a person should live or die.)  Prowl reminds me of 秦始皇 (Qin Shi Huang), the king who unified China and sacrificed millions to make the Great Wall, canals, and road systems that last to this day. If it wasn’t for these accomplishments, China wouldn’t have been what it is today. Was it a good thing? For the future residents of China? Hell yeah. But the costs? Those are sins that can never be erased, and they are horrible and shouldn't be done ever again. Was it necessary? Perhaps. But that’s another discussion. Is Prowl evil? Depends on your definition of evil. Perhaps he’s justified, perhaps in his world, he’ll go down as the Qin Shi Huang of the Cybertronians. Regardless, Prowl like Pharma, is an EXCELLENT example to study on public ethics, and administrative officials should analyze him and learn from his mistakes and sins.  I think Prowl is not evil in a sense that he wishes to harm others, but evil in a sense of his apathy. Prowl is a necessary component to a functional society (someone to plot, to use people, to enforce rules even if some are sacrificed, someone who can get their hands dirty). He lives a terrible and sad fate, and I do not wish ANYONE to live a life like Prowl’s or look up to Prowl. Yes, he’s so clever and brilliant, but that kind of power will make you the loneliest person on Earth.

Thanks Prowl for taking the entire load of sin on your shoulders! Big MVP! You get nothing from the world except hate and contempt.  I would go on about him more but I have IRL stuff to do. I love Prowl as an example to tell people that MODERATION. COMMUNICATION. AND COMPASSION are important factors to have a healthy and good mental state. Prowl is the perfect example of someone who doesn’t want to empathize (haha so many people are like this today), who doesn’t want to try to use more braincells and friends help to make better plans that are more moderate and not extreme, and who doesn’t want to talk to anyone thinking its a waste of time or have difficulty explaining things.  BUT I LOVE G1 PROWL because he has far more patience and manners, and doesn’t take a darker, route for his goals. awhohdohd he’s baby,,, i wish all cops had patience and manners and in general open-minded yet cautious enough not to be taken advantage of,,,, perhaps then we wouldn’t have so much polarization and fighting with authority in this world.... 

uwuwwuwuwuw they did prowl so dirty in idw WAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH ;____;   Again, you are welcome to disagree or agree! I wrote this really quickly so I’m sure there will be points that could be clarified or edited. Prowl’s really complicated and I do not like to talk about current IRL problems, but Prowl represents a lot of problems in society. And I think it’s critical if we try to look at both perspectives to get an understanding on WHY people do these things, and is there a solution to AVOID making those same mistakes? There’s a couple of controversial things in this short essay I wrote, esp. about cops IRL. So feel free to have at it! Or ignore it! Whichever is more comfortable for you! Thanks for coming to my ted talk! Again, Prowl is a bad influence and a sorrowful life to live. please do not try to be like prowl. xD I won’t intrude on you if you do, because you have a right to live the life you want as long as you’re not hurting other people’s interests and wellbeing! 

[uk-news-talking-politics]

Johnson: The boy king who can't grow up

By Jonathan Lis

What do we mean when we say someone should be serious? Normally it suggests they should stop joking or messing around and start focusing. When it comes to a political leader, the level of seriousness must match the responsibility. Politicians have to be serious because people's lives are serious.

So what does it mean when we discuss Boris Johnson, a man who has literally made a career out of not being serious? At the Labour conference two weeks ago, Keir Starmer made it the central plank of his attack on the prime minister. "He's just not serious," he said. "He's just not up to the job."

We know about Johnson's faithlessness, narcissism and compulsive dishonesty. We know that he has always approached politics as a game. It must be carefree, and so he must be careless. When we talk about Johnson's lack of seriousness, it is not about his sense of humour or love of wordplay: it is that, to all intents and purposes, he is a child.

Being a child isn't a bad thing. But you wouldn’t want to be led by one.

Perhaps the most obvious childhood characteristic is the desire for total power. Many children fantasise about becoming 'world king'. Johnson, aged 56, still wants to be. Indeed, it appears to be his most elemental drive. His Downing Street is not in the business of sharing power or accepting checks and balances. His Cabinet is not an assembly of heavyweights designed to challenge or reason with him. He and his advisers have sidelined parliament at every turn: unlawfully proroguing it, denying it meaningful votes in trade negotiations and refusing to gain its consent for the most stringent restrictions on civil liberties in peacetime.

For six months, the government has literally and needlessly ruled by decree. This was 'taking back control' as a child might have envisaged it - for himself alone.

The trouble is that the desire to seize power is not matched by strategy or competence. Johnson has grabbed the levers of state control but doesn't know what to do with them. On the key issues of our time - covid and Brexit - Johnson has taken power from elected national and regional representatives, but not their aptitude or understanding. For months, the virus was something to be dismissed, wished away or spun for good news. Brexit has been used not for detailed policy or considered negotiation but swashbuckling ambition and bombastic pronouncements. The power is the thing. The policy is a distraction.

The other thing about this power is the lack of complexity granted to it. For Johnson, there is no distinction between himself and his country. His conference speech last week was filled with the kind of jingoistic rhetoric which seeks to align national narrative to personal will.

Neither vision admits of any nuance. Johnson promised we would defeat covid "just as this country has seen off every alien invader for the last thousand years". He declared that "we aren’t embarrassed to sing old songs about how Britannia rules the waves"”. The notion that perhaps we ought to be embarrassed about Britannia ruling the waves or that we might ourselves have been an alien invader were of course entirely absent. Britain's history must be all bad or all good, and since it can't be the former it must be the latter.

This, of course, finds its way into the government’s most common refrain: that almost any policy or facet of public life is "world-beating". Algorithms, apps and testing systems must not simply be good. They must be better than everyone else's. The fact they all catastrophically failed is irrelevant. This is the purview of a child who cannot, and will not, see any world beyond their own. The rest of the world is not there to be engaged with or learned from, but to be bettered. Johnson and his subjects are the kings of the castle, because he says so.

The prime minister’s approach feeds into every aspect of his governing. Both his decision-making and rhetoric are defined by rash insensitivity. Insults about the BBC's "wetness" and David Cameron as a "girly swot" reflect a playground machismo. His remark that Britain owed its second wave of the virus to "loving freedom" provoked outrage on the continent. And his observation that Barack Obama disliked Brexit because he was "part Kenyan" resurfaced in Washington this weekend amid reports No.10 was now wooing Joe Biden.

Johnson knows that the most beloved children at school were the charmingly naughty ones who fibbed with a knowing wink and never went too far. Unlike Trump, another unserious and power-hungry politician, he delivers his put-downs with attempted charm rather than anger. But that does not make them less alienating or revealing. They may also point the way to his downfall.

Perhaps the key example is his repeated labelling of Starmer as "Captain Hindsight". Not only does the weakness of the line show how few weapons Johnson has against his opponent. It also reminds voters that the government keeps botching the crisis and Labour keeps pointing it out. Above all, it illuminates one of Johnson's key weaknesses. Hindsight is a gift, in that it uses the past to guide us to better decisions. Of course the prime minister would find that weird and ridiculous. There's no error he's ever made that he hasn't repeated. He is not interested in learning from his mistakes because he never concedes he makes any.

The ultimate problem with Johnson's lack of seriousness is that he does not take the British people seriously. That is to say, he is a child who also treats us as children. He lies and jokes and tries to cheer people up, but never levels with us as adults. And so he has never confessed to the damage of Brexit. In the summer he declared it our "patriotic duty" to go to the pub. And last week he declared we should behave "fearlessly" in the face of the virus. Everyone must be mollycoddled or condescended to. The sordid reality must never be spoken.

The fundamental difficulty is that Johnson is not a child and nor are we. We need both seriousness and the truth, and Johnson can supply neither. In children, his character traits are tolerated, laughed off and even cherished, because they are seen as staging posts on the way to maturity and understanding. But for Johnson they are the key to how he governs. It's not just that the boy king never grew up. It's that he can't.