#yes i made this format ironic i figured it out

[goatwithaplan]

SMT 2005 posting carries on

[rrxnjun]

when nobody's watching ;; hrj

pairing. huang renjun x fem! reader genre. high school au/university au, cheerleader! reader | coming of age, platonic, angst, fluff warnings. alcohol and weed mention, swearing wc. 11k (10.932) a/n. no plot, just identity crisis.

playlist. idontwannabeyouanymore - billie eilish ; patterns - sarah close ; lonely - the maine ; rare - waterparks ; always forever - cults ; snow globe - waterparks ; hope ur ok - olivia rodrigo

where renjun can't seem to figure out who he is when nobody's watching and where you carefully examine and amire each version of himself he creates along the way.

When you’re 14, you watch Mean Girls for the first time. In the dark of your bedroom, with your childhood best friend Jung Sungchan huddling all your blankets to his side, your laptop illuminates the midnight with the gorgeous face of Regina George as both of you awe and giggle at the silly script. When you’re 14, watching Mean Girls for the first time, you are very aware of the fact that after summer ends and you turn 15, you’re going to high school– and the image of having to live through the fate that met Cady, you shiver with horror. That night, you are determined to live through high school with a smile on your face. Too blinded by the dramatized image of the high school experience, you decide that you have to be one of the nice girls everyone likes, because if you’re not, you can’t imagine having to ruin someone’s life just for popularity. You don’t really strive for popularity, don’t get me wrong, it’s just that you’re simply too terrified of high school before it even starts.

When the time finally comes and you turn up to the building with a tall, lanky Sungchan by your side, you realize too soon that life is, sadly, not like Mean Girls, and while you’d love to wear pink on Wednesdays and walk around in designer clothing, your small high school in the tiny, microscopic town you’ve grown up in, is too old-fashioned to have their roles divided this way. Sure, the hierarchy is there, and the cafeteria sure does have assigned seats for all the different friend groups and extracurriculars, but it’s not as serious as the story you watched all those months ago with both terror and excitement, making you quickly realise that you don’t have to try hard to fit in with the populars, because it’s truly not that big of a deal.

And so, in the spirit of the new realization, you join the cheerleading squad. I know, it sounds ironic. All this fuss about the fact that Mean Girls wasn’t actually as realistic as you thought it was, all for you to end up with the popular girls anyway. In your defense, it wasn’t that serious. You weren’t even that good at cheer. Jung Sungchan just made you join so you could be at all his soccer matches so he could boast about his abilities the moment the match is over. Curse the boy and his athleticism.

Standing in the heat of the sun, droplets of sweat appearing on your forehead as you tug down on the short cheer skirt, you huff as the cheer captain– Ryujin, as you learned only a few minutes prior– walks around and yells at you with what you presume is supposed to be support and excitement. 

“Y/N! Why are you just standing there?” she asks you, her voice genuinely concerned, but also laced with a bit of annoyance. This is the third time you’ve messed up on today’s practice, and while you don’t really mind that much, you think your teammates are close to breaking down.

“Uh…”

“You’re supposed to be all the way over here!” she reminds you, pointing to the spot next to her on the freshly mowed grass, making you smile at her with tight lips and jog over there, nodding. Of course you were supposed to be there. You knew that…

“What’s going on, Y/N? You did great yesterday,” she sighs, making you roll your eyes. Yes, you did well yesterday– that’s because the formation was still fresh in your brain and the choreography wasn’t as complex. Also, yesterday was much more casual, since it was the first practice of the year. It was spent getting to know each other and sharing snacks in the locker room. On top of that, it’s only been 24 hours and your brain adapts slowly. There’s no way you’d remember the formations you learnt yesterday, when the sun is glazing your high, slicked ponytail, making you think you’re going to overheat and fall to the ground any second.

“I just… kind of forgot the formation?” you smile innocently, making the older girl look at you with wide eyes and an ironic smile, the despair clearly written on her face. 

“Don’t even try to tell me-”

“But I’ve got it now!” you say, showing her thumbs up, trying hard to calm the cheer captain down. You don’t really know what she’s like– from what you’ve seen, she’s nice, yet a little scary when she gets frustrated– but you can only imagine how she’s going to kick you out if you don’t manage to get your shit together and remember all the choreography you were taught yesterday. It’s just cheerleading, for god’s sake! You always liked gymnastics…

“Okay,” she huffs, shaking her head as she faces the front of the soccer field you’re currently training on, making you do the same as you notice the flood of your school’s soccer players get out of the gym, one of them being your dear friend Jung Sungchan, carrying the ball. “From the top! 5, 6, 7, 8!”

Your body moves almost on auto-pilot. Now, I’m saying almost– you don’t really remember the formation that well and you have to keep glancing to the girls around you to match their movements, but you seem to be in the right places at the right times, so Ryujin doesn’t really notice, which saves your ass, if you’re being totally honest. Curious of the sight in front of you, your eyes scan over the crowd of boys laughing to themselves as they kick the ball around, ready for their soccer practice.

You recognise some of the upperclassmen. Yuta is the team captain, and if your high school was like Mean Girls, he’d for sure be the Aaron Samuels of them all. He passes the ball almost gracefully to his best friend Mark Lee (you only know his name because one of the girls from the cheer is into him. He seems a little goofy, but you guess Jisu doesn’t really care), who passes it to another boy, whose name is either Jaemin or Jeno. You don’t really know which one is which, because they always go everywhere together, and when you asked Sungchan for their names the last time you saw them in the halls, he just told you it was ‘Jaemin and Jeno’, and so did everyone else you’ve ever inquired about the two. Nobody ever really specified which is which. 

Making a swift turn with confidence– because this is the only part of the choreography that you actually remember– your eyes are met with Ryunjin that is now opposite of you, wearing a focused smile that only reaches her eyes when you look at her. You suppose it’s a form of encouragement, a silent praise that you didn’t fuck it up yet, and it makes you strangely comfortable. Turning back to the soccer players– because the formation requires so– your eyes continue to watch the small crowd on the other side of the field.

“Chenle, pass to me!” you hear someone yell out, making you giggle as the boy holds up a middle finger to his opponent that was trying to trick him with a childish stunt, passing to his teammate. Stepping from one foot to the other, continuing to half-focus on the task you’ve been doing, you watch the boy that’s now in charge of the ball, your eyes almost falling out of your sockets.

The boy now running around the field with the ball is fairly short compared to the rest of the team, his jet black hair flowing in the wind as he charges through the field. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him before, because you’re fairly certain you’d remember the perfect curve of his nose and the focused pout on his lips if the encounter between you two did happen, the white of his ankles captivating you in a manner you’ve never experienced in your all 15 years of life. 

Yells and curses are thrown across the soccer field, the boy not really knowing what to do as he looks around in confusion. He looks like he’s just as good at the game as you would be… except with your eyes closed; so you don’t really know what he’s doing in the team. But hey, you can’t judge. Maybe he just really likes soccer and wants to learn. Everyone starts somewhere. Focused on the soccer practice, another sharp voice pierces through your ears– the owner of it being your cheer captain, Ryujin– making you halt in your movements and hide behind one of the girls in terror.

“Y/N I swear to fucking god if you mess up this formation one last time, I’m going to shave off your eyebrows in your sleep!” 

There goes your daydreaming. Strange– you thought you had this part of the choreography down, you were 100% certain you were doing the right steps and that the timing was sharply correct. You must have been distracted…

“I’m sorry-”

“The practice is over for today, I genuinely don’t have the energy to deal with this anymore,” Ryujin huffs out, making the rest of the cheerleading squad take their duffel bags off the grass, scattering back inside of the school building.

“I promise to get it down before the match, Ryunjin,” you peep as you catch up to her, trying hard to regain your position as a reliable cheerleader. You were told your smile was quite captivating, something a good cheerleader should never lack, so you suppose you can’t really let that quality go to waste so soon.

“You better, or else I’m kicking you out,” she glares at you, and you can’t really tell if she’s joking or not.

Squinting at the sophomore, you hum. “Are you serious?”

“100%.”

Nodding, you clear your throat. Taking a glimpse behind your shoulder, looking at the boy that made you so distracted in your routine, you take notice of his lost expression and the aimless posture of his hands by his side. He’s almost a little too far behind the whole team, and while you don’t really know how soccer works, you really think he’s not playing the game right, but you don’t pay more attention to it as you look back at your captain with a warm smile.

“I’ll do better.”

This is your first encounter with the boy named Huang Renjun. You learn his name through your best friend Sungchan, and while you were teased for hours about the intentions of knowing it– because Sungchan is one gossiping fellow who lives for drama– you don’t back down and fulfill your plan of learning something about the boy. After stalking the soccer player on instagram for a bit, you learn that he doesn’t quite live on social media (and good for him, honestly), making you curse as the only pictures of him you find on your feed are the ones his mum posted on his birthday. He’s a baby on those and he didn’t even like the post, not paying attention to it from what you presume was pure embarrassment. 

The soccer match is in two weeks, and while you’re not exactly living the plot of Mean Girls, you sit at the cheerleader table for the time being. You suppose getting closer to the rest of the girls can only serve you– you’re a 15 year old with a dream of having the wildest high school years, after all– and it’s also good to hear all the gossip about the soccer team. You finally learn which one is Jeno and which one is Jaemin, and you also learn that Huang Renjun is a freshmen like you–, and while you learn that everyone thinks that he’s insanely pretty (which makes you frown, because you selfishly wanted to be the only one), he’s also insanely quiet.

You tried to bug Sungchan into befriending him. It didn’t work– he already befriended the talkative Zhong Chenle, telling you that Renjun is too quiet to strike up a conversation. You just think he chose Chenle for his big house and the fact that he has his own basketball court he gets invited to four days a week, but you won’t say that aloud for the fear of sounding jealous of the fact that you can never tag along.

The weeks before the match finally pass and you’re at your first high school soccer game. Dressed in a skirt that just barely covers your asscheeks (you complained to Ryujin about it. She told you to deal with it– you’re exceptionally tall for your age), you twirl around with pompoms in your hands, cheering for the team you know by their names now. You quite like the feeling of having the whole school looking at you when you perform your routine in the half-time break, the formation now permanently glued inside of your brain, muscle memory trained hard now as you were watched by the stern eyes of your cheer captain the remaining cheer practices. Squealing and cheering for the team, you get so into the whole process that you feel like the main character of a movie (so glad it’s not Mean Girls), ready to watch the game when the routine is done and you can take a break on one of the bleachers.

Your eyes involuntarily follow Huang Renjun across the field. He does look a little out of place, you must admit. You wouldn’t really call him the sporty type either– his body not as chiseled and firm as his teammates, although you’d say that’s partly because he’s still growing and in puberty– but there’s something about him that makes you magnetically pulled to his presence, not being able to take your eyes off him. 

So when the ball is finally in his charge and he runs around with it, looking like a lost puppy when you play fetch with it on its afternoon walk, your eyes light up, you almost even let out a happy squeal when he charges forward, the last few seconds of the match passing by as the crowd yells out a countdown. The whole thing is so intense you think you could pee yourself, if you’re being honest, and as you stand up to get ready to cheer for Huang Renjun’s goal– the one that could make your team win– the excitement dies down when the boy kicks the ball forward with no real intention, the opposing team instantly taking charge and striding towards your school’s goalie.

You may be a little obsessed with Huang Renjun, yes. But even you can admit that he messed up the match pretty badly, earning your team the first loss of the season, making the following matches end just as badly with the bitter essence of a bad start.

You’re just 15 when you first notice Huang Renjun trying to desperately fit in to a cafeteria table, the only thing that reminds you of your favorite teenage movie that you watched with Sungchan in the middle of the night. You’re just 15 when you see the first version of the boy, not knowing that the next four years spent watching him silently will be just as eventful and interesting, keeping you on your toes the whole time. 

Sungchan would say you were just 15 when you first got a crush on Huang Renjun. 

You’d disagree. Not because it’s not true,

just because you won’t give him the satisfaction of being right.

At 15 years old, Huang Renjun leaves the soccer team after two lost matches (which were, admittedly… both kind of his fault). Cheerleading isn’t as exciting anymore when he’s not there, but at least you get to watch Sungchan… am I right?

You’re already a sophomore when you finally share a class with Huang Renjun. You’d think this fact would help you get closer to him and learn something about the boy, but the opposite is true as your object of interest doesn’t really interact with anyone outside his circle, keeping to himself. Truth be told, you’d do anything to fit into his circle– but with the company he chose for himself in the sophomore year of high school is nothing close to what you represent, the science kids so far away from the cheerleading status you still hold.

While you’re still stuck in your Mean Girls arc, Huang Renjun switched to the Harry Potter universe, it seems. Or maybe it’s just your sudden obsession with the books that’s making you feel this way�� Nonetheless, Renjun now reminds you of the Ravenclaw boys in Potions class, except this is reality and you’re only sitting in Chemistry, watching over his every move as he moves through the room and focuses on the experiments.

Sungchan nudges you with his elbow, scowling. “Stop ogling Renjun and fucking do something, I think this is going to blow up any second!”

Hissing at him, afraid his mean comment could be heard by unwanted ears, you grit your teeth at your best friend and roll your eyes. “Shut up.”

“No, I mean it, though, I think this is going to blow up-”

“I’m a cheerleader, Sungchan, I don’t know Chemistry, for fuck’s sake,” you sigh, fully commiting to the social norms you were put in. The soccer player only glares at you more after your comment, deciding to take the boiling mixture and spilling the contents of it into the sink with one swift motion of his hand, hopefully not burning the drain in the process and getting you in trouble. You never know with Chemistry. One wrong step and the whole school is on fire. On one hand, you’d love that, but on the other hand, you’d love to experience your first kiss before dying, so you really, desperately hope nothing goes wrong this time.

“Great, now we gotta start over,” you shake your head in disbelief, already taking another cauldron into your hand and putting exact measurements into the flask. 

“As if the last mixture was salvageable,” Sungchan mutters, making you kick him into his shin for being annoying.

“Maybe you can befriend Huang Renjun and he can help us with the experiment,” you suggest innocently, watching your best friend melodramatically scream at your premise. This is not the first time you tried to make your friend to get to know Renjun, but it’s also not the first time he’s declining. You don’t know what’s so hard about being Renjun’s friend, you suppose he has a lot of them– from the looks of the group now standing around his small frame– Sungchan could easily sway the quiet boy with his charm and get him to your side.

“How many times do I have to tell you that I am not befriending Huang Renjun? You can do that yourself, if that’s really all you desire,” he huffs, shaking his head in disbelief.

“But-”

“No buts, for fuck’s sake,” he cuts you off, already knowing the contents of your rambling, “sometimes you gotta do the first step, if you want to cuff a man!”

“I’m old-fashioned, I’ll let you know.”

“That’s just… simply not true,” Sungchan grins, making you sigh.

“I mean, yeah,” you agree, feeling heat rising to your cheeks as you speak the next words, “I’m just shy.”

“Y/N,” Sungchan sighs as he looks you dead into your eyes, seriousness dripping off his tongue, “you’re like… the least shy person I know.”

Offended at his comment, because in this exact moment, you feel nothing but shyness when the topic of your conversation is Huang Renjun– your classmate you’ve never even talked to in the first place, but somehow grown interested in the first moment you’ve seen his face for the first time– you shake your head in disagreement. “You know that’s not true!”

“You made friends with my teammates even faster than I did! Don’t try telling me you’re shy when you were playing Call of Duty with Mark in his dorm room the first week you met him,” he rambles, making you grin at the comment. You knew he was jealous of you being friends with his older teammate– it didn’t matter that the boy was more awkward than anyone you’ve ever encountered (while also simultaneously being the most social human being on the campus, somehow. You’d say he’s so socially awkward and so social that it’s awkward at the same time.). At least you have revenge for not being invited to Zhong Chenle’s basketball court (yes, you’re still salty about that. You were decent at basketball. Well… more decent than Sungchan, at least.). 

“That’s not the same, though,” you roll your eyes, making your best friend suggest something that is already known between the two of you, but never truly solidified in words.

“Because you like Renjun?”

“He seems interesting-”

“Because you have a crush on Renjun?”

“I do not!” you scream out, making the rest of the classroom look at you, resulting in you hiding behind your giant friend in shame. You only hope the rest of the conversation wasn’t heard by the whole classroom. You’d pack your things and move away to Nebraska if it was.

“I suppose the two of you are done with the experiment?” the professor inquires, making all blood leave your face as you vigorously shake your head in disapproval, apologetic smiles sent her way as you promise you’re almost done and that you’ll be quiet from now on. Truth be told, you don’t even know if you’re almost done. You don’t know how the experiment is supposed to go. You can only hope the period ends before you have to show the results.

Reading over the manual again, with Sungchan standing behind you and looking onto the white sheet of paper over your shoulder, you try hard to succeed in your assignment. 

“I think I’ve got it,” he mumbles under his breath, gathering the things needed and finally getting to work, motioning for you to get closer and help him. 

“You’re actually smart for a soccer player, you know,” you grin at him, the annoyed look on his face being the result of your successful teasing. Sometimes it’s fun to poke around with social norms and stereotypes– mostly because they’re kind of true. 

“Just watch over the caldron and make sure it doesn’t bubble. If it does, turn the heating down, okay?” he urges you, earning himself a focused nod.

Now, the task at hand is easy. You just watch the caldron– it’s not difficult at all. But as we already established, you’re an individual that gets distracted really easily– especially when Huang Renjun is present in the same room as you, breathing the same air and looking insanely gorgeous even when he’s boredly looking at his own tools, seemingly done with the experiment with his head rested on his plopped-up hand, dissociated and uninterested. The group of boys around him– Shotaro, Jisung, Doyoung and Shohei, the proclaimed class geniuses at Science– look excited and immersed in the conversation, giggling at jokes and playfully smacking each other’s shoulders in fits of laughter when someone says something exceptionally funny. You imagine it’s Science jokes you wouldn’t get. You do fit the stereotype of a cheerleader, in a way– you’re not stupid, but you’re also not that smart in Chemistry, so you couldn’t indulge in their jokes even if you really wanted to. 

Renjun looks uninterested and left-out. You feel the sudden urge to take him into your small circle, to ask him about his day and about his interests. He seems so different to the boy he was last year– while he did hang out with the soccer boys a few times after quitting the team, you didn’t really see him around. You suppose that the first impression you make on people is usually how you stay fixated in the minds of the general public, and while he used to be a soccer player for a while (two months, to be exact), he then lost the status, resulting in him being just… simply invisible for the rest of the year. 

You were glad to see him with a new group of friends when you arrived in Chemistry class for the first time in your Sophomore year. While you didn’t really know how he ended up with them and what they do for fun after class, Renjun was now a part of the Science kids (this is your Mean Girls arc showing through. He does sit at the Science table in the cafeteria, though, so no one can really blame you for stereotyping.). 

In this exact moment, though, he seems to be collectively excluded out of the collective. It’s frustrating– for this is the second time you’ve seen it happen to the boy– but you suppose there’s nothing you can really do or say to make it change.

“Fuck’s sake, Y/N! I told you to look after the caldron!”

“Oh shit!” you yelp out as you see the mixture boiling, the liquid inside turning black with steam, making the whole experiment fail for the second time. 

Sighing, the boy only shakes his head at your distracted figure, taking the flask into his hand and once again, dropping the contents of it into the sink. Looking around the classroom, desperately trying to find something to anchor to so you can fix the situation, the bell rings and you’re left with the relief of knowing that the class is over and nobody can tell that you failed the assignment miserably.

“You’re lucky the bell rang, because this failure is completely your fault and I wouldn’t waste any time burning your skin off if we were called to show the results to the class,” Sungchan mutters, gathering his things.

“You’re not scary. I saw you shit your pants when you were eight.”

“Fuck off,” he rolls his eyes, leaving you behind to pack your things and silently ogling Huang Renjun on the other side of the classroom. The small circle of his supposed-to-be friends is now standing with the teacher, excitedly nodding as you hear them talk about a competition in Chemistry that is taking place next week. Interested in anything that includes Huang Renjun, you eavesdrop until you realize the boy was left out of the event– the four names scribbled down onto an application paper by their leader Doyoung left on the teacher’s desk, Renjun’s name nowhere to be seen. 

You don’t think he did anything wrong to get left out. Looking at the neatly done experiment, you’re fairly certain he deserves to be on the list of applicants.

Looking at the group, you just think he didn’t fit in with them.

Huang Renjun leaves the classroom alone, his backpack thrown over his shoulder. After the year ends and he no longer takes Chemistry classes, you never see him with the Science kids again.

“I can’t believe you dragged me to the play just because you didn’t want to go alone,” you whisper to your best friend, staring forward at the stage. It’s almost over now, you can tell because you read the book it’s following– you were always a big Oscar Wilde fan– and you can’t help but giggle at the state of Sungchan. The poor boy isn’t used to having friends outside of the soccer player circle, and while he’s sociable, the image of showing up to the play completely alone, just because his friend Guanheng asked him to, is truly terrifying in his eyes.

“I can’t believe you only agreed when I said Renjun’s in the play,” he responds to you with a snarkier comment, making you roll your eyes at him.

“Shh,” you put your finger against your lips, subtly telling him to shut up, “I’m watching the play.”

“Sure…” he mutters, making you smile in satisfaction, for you managed to silence him and keep Huang Renjun out of the conversation.

You’re 17 now. You don’t know much more about Renjun than you did when you were 15, and you no longer share a class with him anymore, so you doubt you’ll ever really get to know him. You rarely see him, since you have no mutual friends or mutual interests, and so your silly crush started to subtly fade into the background. You must admit that you don’t look away when he passes you in halls with the group of drama kids he hangs out with now– you’re a weak, weak woman, after all– but the silent obsession with him is not your main personal trait anymore, and you can tell that both you and Sungchan are more than happy about the fact.

When the play ends and the whole cast scatters onto the stage to bow– you recognise Guanheng, Dejun, Kun, Sicheng and the director, Ten– all smiling brightly beside Renjun in the very corner, who only gives the crowd a shy grin as he bows down with the rest. Truth be told, you never expected him to get into the drama club. He always seemed quiet and reserved, but you suppose this is him experimenting with what he likes, finding the outgoing side in him and getting into more social circles. 

After the lights turn back on and the school theater empties itself out, you find yourself waiting outside with Sungchan. The boy scratches the back of his neck in nerves, stressed from the sudden interaction with the drama kids. Your best friend is quite popular within the school, so you’re not really surprised that he and the charming Guanheng hit it off right away after meeting in Physics class. The sudden blush on his cheeks whenever you mention his new friend makes you strangely suspicious, though, but you won’t get deeper into it.

“Sungchan! Y/N!” you hear cheers from behind you, making you turn around and greet the cast of the play you just watched. Guanheng offers you a welcoming hug that you gladly accept, the rest of the friend group just as friendly to you as their connecting link is. Somewhere in the back of the group, you see Sicheng– the charming senior– trailing behind with Renjun. Too shy to look at him– because you still have the hint of the silly freshman on the inside– you avert your gaze off him and focus on the rest.

“We’re actually going to McDonald’s to celebrate the premiere, are you going with us?” Kun asks, a warm smile playing with his features. 

“I- I mean-” you see Sungchan stuttering, shaking your head in disbelief at the hesitance he shows when he gets too much attention. Jumping in to save the boy, you quickly agree.

“We’re down!” you nod, seeing the man gratefully smile at you as you follow the drama club through the center of the town, towards the closest McDonald’s.

Throughout the whole journey, you’re painfully aware of Huang Renjun’s presence. You two haven’t even said hi to each other, and while you didn’t expect for that to happen, you still feel a little awkward to be invading his space. He’s in the back of the group with Sicheng, the two of them perhaps the closest of the whole club, and you wonder if it’s your fault for making him so distant himself from his friends right now. Did you invade his circle? Did you make him feel uncomfortable? You’ll leave, if that’s what he wants…

Arriving at the McDonald’s, you all order yourself your fast food of choice, the conversation flowing surprisingly easily after Sungchan gets accommodated to the new section of friends around him. Sliding into a big red booth in the corner of the room, you’re pressed between your best friend and Dejun, who can’t stop talking about the new Avatar movie. You almost agree to go see it with him in the cinema, from how desperate and excited he sounds, but then you’re reminded by the fact that you haven’t even seen the first part and you actually kind of hate sci-fi… 

The whole time, your eyes don’t leave Renjun. Old habits die hard, you suppose, but you’re happy to see him genuinely laugh. You don’t think you’ve ever seen that on him before, and the sight of his eyes crinkled up into moon crescents and glittery stars in his dark orbsmakes your heart swell with fondness for the man. Still, though, you can’t help but notice the exclusion from the group– maybe he just doesn’t do well with crowds– as he sits in the corner of the booth with Dong Sicheng, while the rest are indulged in a shared conversation.

You don’t dare to try to include him in your conversation. Frankly, you think he isn’t interested, and it’s also not your place to organize a setting you were just tagging along to, only being invited because of Sungchan. 

In the back of your mind, you think this is it. You think that Renjun’s battle of fitting in is finally over and that he found his place. He looked so familiar with the boys, so eager in the conversation with Sicheng– you’re happy he finally found his place in the world. It’s an unexpected one, to say the least, but you’re just satisfied with watching him be happy from afar.

You pay your goodbyes to the rest of the group after your meals are finished and the clock strikes 10. You’ve never been this close to Renjun before, and you don’t think you’ll ever grow closer. It’s fine with you, though. You’re always watching him– even when nobody else is, interested in knowing about his well being and the trajectory of his life. It’s strange, but it’s natural for you.

When you’re 17, you think Renjun finally found his place in the world– you think he’s finally satisfied with his table at the cafeteria, with the social status he has, with the group of friends around him; although still a little distant with most of them except for one. When you’re 17, you didn’t know you couldn’t be more wrong.

When junior year ends, Dong Sicheng graduates.

Renjun never hangs out with the drama club again.

When you finally turn 18– the birthday party with baby pink party hats and champagne all over the carpet of your teenage room– it seems like everything takes a sharp C turn. You’re a senior now, and while you got admitted to your dream university after many hours of stress and days spent filling out the applications with your best friend Sungchan late in the library, you don’t think you’re ready to leave your home yet. 

It’s kind of weird that you realize the fact at a goodbye party thrown by your classmate Donghyuck. You’ve never really talked to the man before– you just shared multiple classes with him and he offered you weed outside of the gates to the building once– but there’s something about the aroma of the liquor he serves in his kitchen that makes you reminiscence about all the years you’ve spent in the cheer team or sitting at your little desk in the classroom, listening to only some of the lectures, because you didn’t really mind the rest. You also get back in your memory to the spacious cafeteria– the soccer team and the cheer team have joined their tables together after some months, and while it wasn’t like the Mean Girls, you still felt lucky to have such a big supporting system. 

Your cheer captain– Ryujin– graduated one year before you, the role of the most responsible one falling onto your classmate Jiwoo not long after, since they were always friends and you all wanted to lead the team in the fierceful manner Ryujin always has. You swear you saw the ex-captain somewhere in the house a few minutes ago, though, carrying a bottle of vodka under her shoulder as she twirled her slim body around one of the guys that graduated two years ago, the one you always saw Donghyuck hanging around with in the backs of the school halls, wearing leather jackets and snickering with smug grins.

Twirling the liquid in the red solo cup around, standing alone in the corner of the living room (Sungchan left you stranded a few minutes ago, when he spotted Chenle and Guanheng in the crowd), your brain takes you back to all the memories you’ve made in the last 4 years.

You remember celebrating one of the only wins your school’s soccer team got in your freshman year with Sungchan, the tall boy carrying you on his back as he ran around the field in the lights of the reflectors. You remember blowing up the Chemistry lab with him once or twice, and you also remember the whole classroom giggling at you when you had to clean it up, accompanied by the horrified screams of your professor. The memory of the winter formal in your junior year is the most vivid in your brain– you went with your cheer friends, while Sungchan finally scored himself his first date. Her name was Lily and while you found the girl to be quite nice, the memory in your brain is so bright mainly because your dear best friend was so drunk out of nervosity of being with a girl that he puked in the school yard, leaving you to laugh your ass off until tears were streaming down your face. 

Your whole four years were consistent. With the same group of people, in the same school halls and bedrooms of your friends when you had sleepovers as a cheer team building. You always had fun when new freshmen joined the team, making sure they know which Sophomore and Junior boys to be wary of, and while you’re excited for university, you don’t think you’ll get to replicate this carefree and silly presence of high school ever again.

“You okay?” you hear a voice call for you, making you snap your head up and see one of your classmates, Seunghan, staring at you with glittery eyes and a warm smile. You always perceived the boy to be quite the shy individual, but you think alcohol always helps everyone to get out of their shell.

“Yeah,” you nod, quick to make his worries fade away, “just lost in thought.”

“I get that. It’s surreal that we’re graduating, isn’t it?” he grins, shaking his head in disbelief. You didn’t expect anyone to get your feelings, but here you are– you guess you’re never as alone in your views as you think you are.

“It’s crazy…” you mumble, finishing up the cup and looking around, catching the boy staring at you constantly. Not really seeing your friend Sungchan anywhere, you decide the second best thing to do to pass time is to catch up with the boy right next to you, and so you lean closer to him and ask him if he wants to get out for some fresh air.

After seeing him nodding eagerly at your suggestion, you find yourself trailing out of Donghyuck’s house, straight to the backyard, while passing some of his friends on your way– their irises were twice as wide as a normal person’s would be and you swear you sensed the sweet, disgusting smell of weed resonating through the walls, so you were glad to get out before the essence got so deep inside of your nose and make you want to puke. 

As a cheerleader, you were a regular at those parties. You’ve seen enough of Yangyang, Donghyuck, Eunsok… and Renjun getting so high and mixing the drugs with alcohol that it left them out of it for hours, and you don’t really need that for yourself right now.

“Finally,” you gasp when you reach the backyard, leaning on the wall of the house. Seunghan follows you with a cup in his hand that you’re not sure when and where he’s gotten on your way out, sipping on the alcohol as his eyes never leave your frame.

“What are your plans after graduation?” he asks, genuinely curious.

“University,” you say, letting your eyes travel through the backyard, finding multiple people sharing cigarettes and pipes in the bushes, giggling to themselves. “You?”

“Same,” he nods, “I got into the town’s uni, so I’m just gonna stay here, though.”

Humming, you take a short glimpse at him. Truth be told, you don’t know much about Hong Seunghan. All you know about him is that he’s super nice and he always greeted you when you passed each other in the halls, despite not having many shared classes or social circles. Your friend Yeri once told you that he’s got a crush on you when you got an anonymous Valentine’s day card in your locker during junior year, but you dismissed the thought quickly as you realized you’ve never really had a coherent conversation with him. Looking into his starstruck eyes right now, though, you can’t say that you wouldn’t believe it now…

“I’m moving across the state, actually,” you grin, desperate to hide your despair behind a smile. Sungchan got into a university only an hour away from yours, which is the only thing that’s keeping you going right now– while you will be so far away from home, at least you won’t be completely lonely. If you ever feel like it’s too much, you can just catch a train and meet your childhood best friend in the next town. It’s easy. Or at least, that’s what you keep telling yourself.

“Why so far away?”

“I don’t know,” you mumble, taking your eyes off him again, looking through the crowd in the yard and finding a familiar figure, sitting lonely at the edge of the empty swimming pool, his legs dangling inside as he leans back, supporting his weight with his arms and looks towards the sky, “they had the best History courses, I guess…”

The conversation you’re having with Seunghan is only a background task now, a side quest in your game, as you focus on what you’ve been doing in the back of your head for the last 4 years. You monotonously reply to his questions and hum at all the right places in the dialogue to seem interested, but your eyes are focused solely on the man sitting at the swimming pool, looking more lonely than ever before. You’d make yourself feel silly for paying more attention to a man you’ve never spoken to than to the blushy classmate standing to your left right now, quietly obsessing your whole teenage years with a stranger, but for all you know, this could be the last time you’re seeing him in your life, so you let your inner little crushing-on-Huang-Renjun self have it, at least one last time.

When you turn 18, so does Huang Renjun. He finds enjoyment in all the possibilities now open to him with the new status of an adult, his Fridays spent drinking away with his new group of friends. He wears leather jackets and ripped jeans, and while you find it quite attractive, you don’t think it’s what suits him the most. Hell, even the soccer jersey looked more fit on him– and he played for the team for a total of two matches. His hair is bleached blonde and you once saw him with red, puffy eyes and a little fucked-out smile accompanied by his sketchy friends in the park, so you can only imagine what he’s been doing his whole senior year. You’re surprised he even managed to graduate.

When you turn 18, it’s when you worry most about him. He doesn’t seem himself, and quite frankly, he never has, but this is the most unpredictable and unexplainable version of himself that he managed to craft. 

You don’t think you’ve ever seen him genuinely laugh. And yes, you don’t know the boy, but still, you kind of miss the earlier versions of him, because at least those weren’t as self-destructive and damaging to his health. 

You wonder why he’s not inside with his friends. You wonder why he’s so alone in the backyard, why he’s sitting at the empty swimming pool with a bottle of liquor next to him, why he’s not laughing at stupid jokes and dancing to bad EDM music in Lee Donghyuck’s house like the rest of his circle is. You wonder what made him hang out with the crowd for the last year, what made him let his grades slip and why he never seemed to stay with one friend group for long. 

You guess it’s hard to be his friend. 

Or maybe, he just finds it hard to be other people’s friend. 

Changing himself up just to fit with the others, carefully crafting and molding his personality to have at least someone match his current energy– you wonder if it wouldn’t just be easier for him to be himself and let someone discover the true him for once. Because this surely isn’t him. And the soccer player, running aimlessly around the field wasn’t him. The kid that was good at science was never a good fit for the nerdy crowd either, because it wasn’t him. The drama kid that was decent at acting, but never really talked with anyone from the club other than Dong Sicheng (because even after all this time, you think that was his only real friend), wasn’t the real Huang Renjun either. And now, after the four years of admiring the mystery he is and examining him each passing day, you can for sure say that the version of himself that smokes and drinks in dark alleyways isn’t the real him at all.

After reminiscing on your four years of high school with a smile on your face, you wonder if Huang Renjun could do the same. If he smiles about the many twists and turns, or if he thinks of his high school years as a waste of his youth, a time he can only be reminded of with a bittersweet feeling, never fitting in despite trying so hard over and over again.

The boy at the swimming pool chews on the inside of his cheek, scoffing as he points his eyes towards the ground. There’s an urge inside of you to walk over to him and be a shoulder for him to cry on, be someone to finally offer him some comfort, to let him talk while you listen. 

But you don’t do any of that. 

You keep standing there, watching him, as Hong Seunghan talks your ears off about everything and nothing, making your confused heart simmer with despair at the broken look on Renjun’s face when he looks around for the last time before he takes the bottle standing next to him into his hand and smashes it into the pool with full force, the piercing sound of the glass shattering making your ears hurt as you jump up in surprise.

The boy stands up from his place as he storms off, your eyes meeting only for a mere second before he’s out. 

“Are you okay?” Seunghan asks again, for the second time this evening already, while you look at him with a tight smile and nod your head at the question.

“Yeah. Just… got distracted.”

When you’re 18, you believe this is the last time you’ll ever see him. When you’re 18, all you do is wish him well. 

Walking out of your trashy university accommodation, locking the door behind you– although you think it does nothing for the safety of your living space, considering the door is paper thin and anyone determined enough could get inside in two minutes, if they wanted to– you put the keys into your coat pocket and jog down the stairs, because you fear the old elevator ever since you heard your neighbor getting stuck inside of it one day when the power went out. Checking the time on your phone screen, you walk your way to university.

You always wanted to live somewhere far away. It’s not really about cutting people off or about starting new– Sungchan visits you every other week when he’s bored, after all– you just think you like the comfort the big city brings you. The architecture of the town is beautiful and your university’s History course is the best one in the country. You almost feel a little proud of getting in, moving out of the small hell hole your hometown was, and being competent enough to live on your own at 19, cooking yourself bad pasta for dinner every evening and posting instagram stories of the sunset with the song stickers from your playlist every other week. It’s a little surreal to live the life your younger self always dreamt of, for it doesn’t feel as strange and so brand new like you expected it to. You can’t say you don’t enjoy it, though.

Walking inside of the university building, still not used to the white modern walls and tall glass windows in the lounge area, you check the time and realize you still have at least 25 minutes until your lecture starts. Coming from a small town, you never really learned how to time your departure from home. You always arrive either very late or very early– it’s hard to calculate how long the walk is, when everything is within a 10 minute reach back home.

Deciding to spend some time in the lounge area before the class starts, because you don’t really feel like spending time in the lonely classroom and you also suspect someone’s having a class in there still, you walk towards the crowded place, adjusting the bag strap that’s sneakily slipping off your shoulder.

The view in front of you catches you off guard, the amount of students doing things to your little, anxious self (in moments like these, you wish you had Sungchan with you here. Despite being quite social in high school, it’s hard to make friends when he’s not around to be your isle of comfort; but you guess it’s time for you to be a big person and find friends on your own now), and as your eyes scan the place for an empty space to sit, your mouth drops agape in shock and surprise.

There is a boy with mousy blonde hair sitting at one of the bean bags, down in the university halls. He's surrounded by people, all typing away on their laptops, occasionally glancing up to their friends and talking in hushed smiles and cheery giggles. The boy is alone– scrolling away on his phone, earphones in his ears as the slight movement of his leg matches the beat– though, he doesn't seem lonely.

There are plenty of people around him, all with their kindred spirits, yet, the boy makes no effort in trying to fit into a circle; he doesn't try to match anyone's energy or to desperately make someone like him. In a way, the sight makes you sigh with relief. 

Huang Renjun has finally stopped trying, and while this sentence usually doesn't have a nice ring to it, this time, you don't think there's anything more positive about the fact that he simply just has no energy to change himself to fit the vision of himself that is kept by others.

Taking a few deep breaths in and out, you contemplate on your next step. Is this really how you get to know your high school crush, after so many years of thinking of him? Is university really the time for your first real meeting? It makes you feel kind of silly, the tingling sensation in your fingertips making it hard for you to stay grounded as you shake your head to clear your thoughts, deciding.

Wiping your hands onto the fabric of your jeans, taking another deep breath in and out, you walk up to the boy with a hesitant smile and drop your body to the bean bag next to him, accidentally bumping into his outstretched legs. The action makes your cheeks heaten as your whole body feels hot with uncertainty, but you don't back away as he looks up to you with an uninterested look, merely just wanting to know what bumped into him and made him lose his focus and switch his attention to the world around him instead of his phone.

Clearing your throat, you force yourself to quirk up the corners of your lips into the most welcoming smile, greeting the boy you know so well, but also don't know at all. 

“Hi,” you utter, seeing the boy glance at you with pure interest now, eyebrows furrowed as the gears in his brain work by themselves, trying to sort your face. When his thoughts are met with recognition, his irises widen as he works out a subtle smile, the one that reaches his eyes and makes them light up with a glittery sparkle, soft voice echoing to your ears.

“Y/N, right?”

“Yeah,” you nod, putting on an awkward smile, “from high school.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he nods, staring at you, as if to wait if you have anything else you want to say. 

The encounter must feel strange to him. You've never really talked, and when you did, it was only when it was necessary. You were just a side character in his life– the one you pass in a game in a very unimportant side quest and never meet again, forgetting about it in an instant– however, to you, Huang Renjun, although he was never the center of your universe, was always there, somewhere in the back of your mind, as you looked after his every move and paid attention to every shift in his existence. To you, he was like the musician you fall in love with when you're a kid, and even though you don't listen to them anymore, you still have their account followed on instagram, keeping track of their every move, making sure they're safe and still loved by many.

Staring at you still, your throat gets dry as you have no words to say. Somehow, you always had so many things on your mind that you wanted to share with Huang Renjun, in each and every passage of his life. But now that you finally had the courage to walk up to him and talk, the words were stolen from the tip or your tongue and it's useless to try to search for them in your brain.

Maybe it's the boy recognising your hesitance, maybe it's his brain reminding him of all the times he's walked up to a new group and tried so hard to fit in with them, maybe he knows the lost look in your eyes all too well from how many times he's seen it in himself when he tried to make new friends; maybe it's the fact that he knows how stressful it is to walk up to someone and try to be their friend– nonetheless, for a reason to you unknown, he does something no one's ever done for him when he was in the position you are in right now, because, truth be told, this is the first time he's been in the position of being walked up to and interrogated with a premise of new friendship. And it's all thanks to you– so he takes the lead and warmly smiles at you, striking up a conversation.

“What's up? I didn't expect to see you here,” he says, taking his earphones out and putting them away to his pocket, turning slightly towards your figure and paying full attention to you.

Playing with your fingers in your lap, you turn your gaze away from him and master up a response. “I didn't expect to see you here either, actually,” you say.

“Yeah, well,” he shrugs, “I guess I just wanted to start over somewhere far away. It felt… a little claustrophobic back home.” 

The two of you share a look full of understatement, because in his eyes, as his classmate from high school, you must have noticed at least some of the glimpses of his numerous friend groups over the time. And while none of them really worked out for him, since none of them ever really felt as if they were right for him, now, in the university halls, although a little alone and a little too ordinary, he seems like himself for the first time.

“I get that,” you nod, not wanting to dwell on the topic for too long in fear of hitting a painful spot in him or exposing that you’ve been watching him the whole time, “what do you study?”

“Art,” he says with an excited smile, the one that makes his eyes crinkle up a little and his expression is full of undenied joy and excitement, the one you’ve seen on him for the last time in junior year, talking away with Sicheng in a red McDonald’s booth– hinting that after so many years of changing himself up and trying to fit in with the rest, he's doing what he really wants and desires, with no expectations and harsh looks of others.

“That's so amazing,” you hum in amazement, offering him a genuine smile.

“It's very exciting,” he nods, glad he no longer feels like he’s been made from a broken mold, glad he no longer feels aimless and unarmed with everything he encounters, just like he did in high school in the sports teams and drama clubs, hating each passing second he’s spent doing something he despised, wasting away his life. “What about you?”

“Oh, I study History,” you reply, scratching the back of your neck, “doesn't sound as exciting as Art, to be honest, but I've wanted to study it for the longest time, so…” 

“No, that's great,” he assures you, “although you don’t seem like a History kind of person,” he says, although he doesn’t know you that well– he can’t quite put a finger on when you two have met, and if you’ve ever even talked. Looking at you right now, though, he must have registered you, at least, because you seem too familiar in the foreign place and he finds himself silently holding on to the feeling of recognising at least something in the wide unknown.

Squinting, you curse the cheerleader stereotype for the first time in your life. “Is that supposed to be a diss?” you grin.

“God, no,” he shakes his head in disapproval, quickly leading you out of the misjudgement. “I just didn’t expect you to study History. I don’t know you that well, but you’re like, the furthest away from my image of a History major… but I guess my expectations can be wrong,” he defends himself, palms raised in defeat.

Humming, you still squint at him in uncertainty. “Well, I guess I get that. You seem like an Art major, though, to be honest.”

“Do I?” he asks, a tone completely different to yours– he looks grateful for the comment, his eyes shining with appreciation and maybe just a hint of pride. 

To be honest, it's not really about the way he dresses that makes him seem like he’d study Art– his black high-top converse, beige pants and an oversized brown flannel could be worn by anyone– but his aura, the energy he gives off at first glance, is something that gives it away. This is the first time someone's ever affirmed Huang Renjun's identity, the real one, on top of that– the one he spent his whole life carefully crafting and creating, picking away the bad parts as he tried and failed to fit all the other categories he didn't like– and it feels truly euphoric to him, like he fulfilled his life-long goal and finally found his purpose. "Well, thank you," he says, and you can tell he means it.

You want to tell him how glad you are that he let go of trying to please everyone. You want to tell him how it's great that he finally found himself, how amazing it is that he finally let go of the desire to be liked for something he wasn't, just to be popular or have someone by his side. You want to tell him how you appreciated his existence all those years, how you watched over his every good and bad step, how proud you are of him for the journey he's taken and how amazing it is that he finally reached the final destination. 

That would be weird, though– he doesn't even know that you’ve selfishly watched him all those years, tumbling and turning in the background of the mess his life had always been. So, instead, you mumble out a sweet: “You're welcome.” 

By the way he looks at you, you almost think he understands your intentions. You almost believe he can read your mind and find the pictures of himself in your memories, each and every single one carefully preserved with his essence, although it was different each time and never really stayed the same. 

But he can't. He can’t read your mind and he can’t tell that you know all about him, so instead, he thinks this is the universe rewarding him for being so patient, rewarding him for always trying, and that’s why he feels that he can’t let this opportunity get away from him.

“Do you want to hang out later? I have a class in 10 minutes, but I'd love to walk around and explore it here a little in the afternoon, if you're down,” he suggests, taking you off guard.

The new version of Huang Renjun that's in front of you is confident– something he always lacked, for it was never really him that he was showing to the world– and the new Huang Renjun is charming and magnetizing. You can't say you never felt like this about him before, because of course you did– you wouldn't have known so much about him and his various phases of life if you weren't interested in the boy, but the way you feel about him now feels more real– maybe because it's finally the authentic version of himself that he always was so afraid of showing to others. Electrified by his eyes, you bring yourself to nod.

“Of course I'm down,” you agree, smiling. 

“Great,” he laughs airly, the sound making your smile widen even more, “I'll get your number, then?”

“Oh, sure,” you say, taking his phone out of his outstretched hand, typing the number into his contacts list. Walking up to him all those minutes ago, this wasn’t how you expected the encounter to go. You expected to say hi to him, to maybe hear him tell his major to you before he turns his back to you and walks away, never talking to you again. Instead, you get an invite, a premise of something new, a meeting that excites you and makes you feel all giddy inside, just like the first time you’ve laid your eyes on the boy in high school and decided to secretly hold your heart out to him, if he ever wanted to take it. It makes you feel like you should’ve done this long ago, like you should’ve walked up to him during high school, when you noticed him struggling, but perhaps, this is how it was always supposed to go, how you two were supposed to end up in each other’s lives and how you were always made to finally know Huang Renjun for real.

“Good,” he nods, locking eyes with you, “I have to go now, because the class is on the fifth floor and the elevator is broken, and I also don't really know my way around the building yet, but I'll definitely text you later,” he giggles.

Laughing, you shake your head in disbelief. “Of course. Good luck on not getting lost,” you say as you wave at him, his figure already standing up tall in front of you, his eyes glazing over your features for one last time.

“Thanks, I'll need it,” he tells you, “I'll see you later, then.”

“Later!” you nod, the smile never leaving your lips as you watch him leave and take a shy look at you over his shoulder for one last time before he takes the stairs up, eyes quickly drifting away when your gazes meet.

If anyone was watching you for the last few minutes, they'd think you were old friends. They'd think you were just catching up, accidentally bumping into each other and talking about the struggles of university life, bitching about the accommodation and how the professors seem uninterested in the topic of their courses. The reality is different, though, and although you and Renjun were just acquaintances meeting in a big town, miles away from the home, you can already sense that you and him were meant to have a storyline in each other's lives eventually. 

This was Renjun's first time to be walked up to with a welcoming smile. It was also your first time to reach out and offer your friendship to someone. You changed your roles, in a way. 

And while Renjun continues to find himself more and more each day, the true and real identity deep inside of him, he finally has someone by his side assuring him that it's enough and that he never has to change a thing about himself to be liked. No more masks and no more acting. 

For the first time in his life, Huang Renjun knows who he is, even when nobody’s watching.

[weatheringtea]

FMA Cafe

While I was in Japan, the FMA cafe opened up :D I've never been to an anime cafe before, so this was perfect! I went once a week (so 3 times in total) so I could try a bunch of different dishes and collect coasters lol

I tried to put this under cut because it's long and full of pics, but adding the read more ruined the formatting of the pics so I'll leave it.

The first trip was March 22, kind by accident LOL. I was in the area to see Shinjuku Gyoen and the cafe was on our walk back to Shinjuku stn. The lobby was empty, so I gathered my very out of practice JP skills and asked if it was possible to get a seat as a walk-in. They said yes :D

Word hadn't gotten around yet it seems, so it was very empty upstairs too LOL. Great for pics :D

There's a ¥1,000 sitting fee and you get a drink with that. There's a QR code given to you for the menu (it matches to your table number so your orders are tracked). Menu was a bit clunky, probably because my JP reading skills are in the toilet, but I figured it out! They played the same 10 minute video the entire time (for the FMA mobile game).

Because I showed up late I only bought one thing to eat (last order for food was 18:00 and I didn't really sit down and get things figured out until 17:45-ish), and it was Lust's chocolate cake. It was very good (and very heavy lol). I got the Edward Elric drink first and the Roy Mustang drink second. Both came with mystery coasters. Ed's drink was better imo.

At the end the couple of us on the 2nd floor snuck up to the 3rd for pics before leaving.

I went back the day before I left for Osaka :D (27th)

Word had gotten around by now about the cafe and merch shop and it was busy this time! I popped in at 12:15 and asked if they had any seats available. No, they're full. He offered to book me in for 14:30 though! So I putzed around Shinjuku for 2 hours and went back :D

It was packed this time!! On both floors.

Winry's pie was alright. Heavier than I was expecting. Ed's fries were fun! They came with a white paper bag that you transfer the fries into, and you add whatever mix of spices you want from the spice cups it came with, then shake in the bag. Neat! Also tasty.

Drinks were Olivier's, Bradley's (with matching coaster!) and Ed's drink again (I should have gotten Roy's again dammit, I tried to take his glove hand home from the first time, but it got wet, the ink bled, and it ironically fell apart...)

Olivier's was the neatest looking drink, but also my least favourite. Bradley's was my favourite drink - very good!

I went back on April 4 before I went home ;A;. This time I made a reservation. I asked for a seat on the 3rd floor, since my first 2 had been on the 2nd, but I think seating is actually based on how early you get in line. I got in line early and noticed everyone in front of me also got 3rd floor, so I think they just fill the 3rd before dealing with the 2nd.

ANYWAYS

Great seat. A+. My spot had 2 table numbers and I asked if it was okay and they just were like "yeah yeah it's fine no worries". Okay!

By this point they must have been besieged with tourists. Poor woman hosting the floor couldn't speak English to save her life (and half my floor was tourists). She got to me and tried to suffer through a few English words and I stopped her. I'm fine with the instructions in Japanese :') please don't suffer more on my account.

Bradley's drink again, Ed's Milk Hater drink, and the classic FMA drink BECAUSE I CONTINUE TO FORGET ALL ABOUT ROY...

Ed's milk drink though... you pour the milk into the mug filled with soda(??) and ice. It tasted like a float without the cola?? It was unique... the most interesting drink to try for sure (Bradley's still my favourite).

I bought the mug at the gift shop :')

LET'S TALK ABOUT THIS AL PUDDING. This was amazing and fun. There is a little cake, there is a little ice cream, there is a little pudding, there's a little idk what it was but it was chocolate and good, and there are cat themed cookies under the pudding cup LMAO. Then there's the blood seal inside the tin. A+ Al wins. That was so much fun, I'm sad I left that until last, I probably would have gotten it again.

You could have totally sold me on this mug too if it had been for sale.

Look, I did remember Roy sorta :') I got his doughnut. It was HEAVY and the icing was so thick on top it was rock hard. Sticky, messy finger food.

So that's it :D I've run out of picture space lol. I wish I'd gotten to taste test things in the second round later in April (ARMSTRONG'S HASHED BEEF ;____;) but I hope they enjoy all the money I gave them while I was there LOL. I had some neat food and had fun doing it :)

[runningw-thewolves]

Stray Kids X Fenrir Post (LONG POST)

(Cause why the Hell not?)

Today I found out that 1) someone made a Fenrir based tattoo sleeve design for Bang Chan and 2) not only has Bang Chan seen it, he has stated he might possibly get it. Now, I am a STAY, a Norse Pagan and a follower of Fenrir. I think you can figure out what my brain was doing processing all this.

(Also; THERE HAS BEEN HINTS TO NORSE MYTHOLOGY IN STRAY KIDS MUSIC VIDEOS!? STAY, do a wolf some assistance and pinpoint me to the videos and moments cause I NEED MY STRAY KIDS NORSE/VIKING CONTENT. Anyways...)

I am very Autistic when it comes to several of my favourite things coming together and creating a *chef's kiss* moment. This is no exception. It's why INK are my favourite band (metal, Emo and horror together? YES PLEASE) and now I have Stray Kids, Norse mythology AND LITERALLY MY FUCKING RELIGION? Holy fuck! *insert brain melt moment from Indiana Jones here*

So, I figured; let's talk about some of Stray Kids past works and Fenrir at the same time. Yep, a Stray Kids Fenrir themed playlist in the format of a Tumblr post by someone with Autism currently losing their damn mind.

Before we begin, let's get everyone acquainted who may be unfamiliar.

The Binding of Fenrir

'The Binding of Fenrir' is arguably the most famous tale involving Fenrir. Fenrir is the eldest child to Loki and Angrboda, his younger siblings being the Midgard Serpent, Jormungandr (who has beef with Thor, to keep it brief) and the future death Goddess, ruler and caretaker of the dead and arguably an important figure in Baldur's tragedy, Hel (or Hela).

Why was Odin interested in Fenrir? For one simple reason; he had been told a prophecy where a large and powerful wolf would kill him. I should point out this part of Odin and Fenrir's story is a very medieval trope of the paranoid king and his son destined to kill him. This case is no different; the downfall of the king is because of his own paranoia. Everything he does to try and prevent his downfall only solidifies it into existence. It's a common belief among many of us Heathens that Fenrir might have never considered going after Odin if Odin had just left Fenrir alone the whole time. Hell, there was the distinct possibility that Fenrir could've likely been an ally to Odin and the Aesir if it weren't for their fear and paranoia.

So, how does Fenrir get bound? Odin and a few others ride to the Iron Wood, the home of the Jotunn and Chieftess of the Chieftains of the Iron Wood, Angrboda, and forcefully take her children from her. Jormungandr strikes and either Odin or Thor (heavily debated) throws Jormungandr into the oceans of Midgard. Hel is immediately exiled from Asgard and sent to what is often dubbed 'Helheim'. Fenrir was kept in Asgard, primarily to keep an eye on him. He was scorned and mocked and treated with fear by the Gods, and no one dare approach him to feed him. Aside from one God; Tyr, the God of Justice. (Also a God of War himself but ssh.) Tyr befriended the young wolf and fed him.

Naturally, Fenrir grew. And very quickly. He soon domineered over the buildings of Asgard and the Gods grew paranoid of his strength and size. It was then decided for him to be bound. They tried on three separate occasions, telling Fenrir it was a game. The first time was some normal, ordinary chains. Fenrir broke those with a single movement of his paw. The second was a reinforced chain. These were a little tougher but they too were shattered. The Gods then got in contact with the Dwarves to create for them a special chain, named Gleipnir. This chain was presented to Fenrir, and its appearance - similar to that of a ribbon or thread - immediately made Fenrir suspicious. He only agreed to have himself bound if one person were to lose their hand should they go back on their word. Tyr was the one who offered (this is a HUGE deal, as Tyr is basically associated with business transactions, oaths and the likes. Loki even goes on to call this out in the poem 'Lokasenna' (Loki's Flyting)). Naturally, Fenrir is bound, he can't break free, Tyr loses an arm. Fenrir snaps at the laughing Gods' ankles and Odin shoves a sword through Fenrir's jaws. Fenrir will only be freed by the violent thrashing of his brother come Ragnarok, to which Fenrir will kill Odin. Some sources also say Fenrir eats the sun and moon, however this is a tricky subject as that act is often attested to two other wolves. There's plenty of theories but for this post, they are irrelevant.

Stray Kids Everywhere All Around The World

Stray Kids first became known by a survival TV show in late 2017. At the time, there was nine members. (For the sake of avoiding drama and cause the matter is done, I will be talking about Woojin but sticking to the facts. Everything from the drama was false (which I learned the hard way and am still trying to learn from); do not attempt to bring up the controversy in reblogs or replies or I will block you.) The members included (in order, starting with team leader then oldest to youngest); Bang Chan, Kim Woojin, Lee Minho, Seo Changbin, Hwang Hyunjin, Han Jisung, Lee Felix, Kim Seungmin, and Yang Jeongin. The group would debut in 2018 with the track "District 9". Upon debut, most of the members would continue using their names except for the following; Minho (would debut as Lee Know), Jisung (would debut as Han) and Jeongin (would debut as I.N.). Kim Woojin left the group in late 2019 around the time of the "Double Knot"/"Levanter" promotions. (Hence forth, Woojin is irrelevant. This is where we shall leave any mention of Woojin hence forth.

Stray Kids would go on to become a pretty big deal, even winning the competition TV show 'Kingdom' (let's not go over the whole MAMA bullshit, that would take a whole tray of paracetamol to get through), leading to the band being noticed by Ryan Reynolds and Hugh Jackman. In the past year, several of the members have appeared or modeled for various designer brands (ignoring the politics of this for now; good on them for their success however).

Bang Chan and Fenrir's Connection

As was mentioned in the TikTok I linked earlier, Bang Chan is the member of the group who was a trainee for the longest amount of time. Chan had been training under JYP Entertainment for seven years by the time of the pre-debut TV show. Chan has mentioned several times in the past the anger and sadness he felt, connecting with other trainees only for them to leave (either from being fired, changing career paths or debuting before him - this was especially noted to be the case with groups TWICE and GOT7, where Chan is friends with members of the groups and even shared a dorm room with members of GOT7). It's not hard to imagine the amount of pressure Chan was under to debut on the survival show. Or the amount of pressure he put on himself and the rest of Stray Kids. This amount of pressure would rear its head when members Lee Know and Felix were eliminated (but would be brought back later and debut with the group). A clip from Felix's elimination gives a glimpse into how hard Chan was on himself.

I will not speculate Chan's thoughts or feelings, but if you dig into it, you can come to some conclusions quickly based on the surrounding context and what we know about Chan and Felix's friendship post-debut.

Fenrir is bound and thus cannot be free to show his true strength and power, held back by the Gods for fear of what or who he could be. In essence, some could argue that this is what made Fenrir stronger and the wolf we know today but that comes with the ridiculous amount of pain and torture the wolf felt. Sure, he became stronger, but at what cost? I would say this is the same question to consider when talking about Chan and Fenrir. Sure, Chan is a wise and strong leader now, but what was the cost? He's made it clear that at one point before debut (and other members have backed this up), he actively avoided connecting with people cause of how many friendships he watched crumble for one reason or another. There's even a clip from a livestream where Chan was noticeably angry with staff and you can see the visible fear and awkwardness from the other members. Again, will not speculate on what any of it could mean, but it does point to something Fenrir and Chan may also have in common. When they are angry, they are

PISSED.

However, it's also important to keep in mind the sort of things Fenrir teaches and encourages from a Norse Pagan/Heathen perspective, so...

Fenrir in Norse Spirituality

A common name attributed to Fenrir is "breaker of chains". When we're talking about what this means from a spiritual standpoint, it means to free yourself from your past, free yourself from expectations or demands of others that holds you down and to let go and live free. For many, this can meaning learning how to cope with mental illness and trauma, learning how to manage (not control) one's anger, how to fuel emotions into actions and remain within the present and not think about the past or the future.

I've also heard many people describe Fenrir as a special kind of 'military boot camp' strict. This is the best way I can describe it; imagine, if you will, that you are a house. Fenrir is the property surveyor (the person who checks houses for faults). Fenrir will go around and tell you everything that isn't sturdy, that has cracks or other faults. Not out of malice, but because if you don't fix this, all it takes is one bad day and your self-worth comes crashing to the ground. Fenrir will even go out of his way to test these parts of yourself, again not out of malice but to make sure you can withstand it. Going back to the house metaphor; imagine Fenrir pointed out your foundations were made with weak cement, so you redo the foundations. Fenrir isn't convinced until he can push into it or stand on it and find it can withstand the weight. (This doesn't go into how our emotions fluctuate daily, but hopefully you get what I'm trying to say.)

Fenrir is also oftentimes seen as an example of justified rage. The rage of youth being mocked by their elders for simply being young. The rage Black people feel when another officer shoots yet another unarmed Black person. The rage LGBTQIA+ people feel when one of their own is killed or assaulted for simply being in love or expressing who they are. The rage women feel when men try to take advantage of or gaslight them into accepting lower. The rage of Indigenous people watching as their lands get bombed, farmed, and in general colonized and ripped of all its worth until nothing remains.

With all these factors in mind, let's finally get to the meet of this. The Stray Kids songs one (like myself) can associate with Fenrir. I will include lyrics, and you're more than welcome to reply or reblog with songs I may have missed. So, without further ado; let's get cracking! (Please note I will be using OT8 songs primarily for this post, again to avoid drama or anyone dogpiling about the controversy.)

'Placebo' (3RACHA original; 2017, Stray Kids original; 2018, re-recorded; 2021.)

"The positive belief that will even heal my wounds Keep going, the Placebo that works on me Honestly, there’s no need to be negative Trust myself, throw away those extra thoughts"

'Placebo' is a song essentially about relying on yourself to get through your challenges, while acknowledging what is currently making you feel weak. The fear and worry about wondering if you will actually make it, but telling yourself you can despite your worries, being your own friends in your darkest moments. Felix's verse I think is almost entirely applicable to Fenrir (Felix even says "drop these rusty chains" - remember, Fenrir was first bound by chains before Gleipnir.)

"Miroh" (original; 2019, re-recorded; 2020)

"Poison, trap, toadstool you can set them up I'll survive in the end, whatever it takes I know your traps, you set them up And I stomp on them tougher There's only one answer, you just have to open it"

"Miroh" (Korean word for 'maze') is an EDM-style song about persevering through the challenges you face, head held high, trusting your instincts and knowing that one way or another you have prepared for this moment and you will make it out the other side. The chorus starts with a line explaining that the narrator (Stray Kids) decided to go into the city (the challenges) themselves and know what is coming, are ready for it and know they can make it through the trial. The song also uses various animal sound effects, including a tiger's roar in the chorus, a hawk's caw and a bird-filled jungle soundscape. (Fenrir is often reported to be associated with swamps and mountains, so the inclusion of wild animal noises fits perfectly here.)

'Red Lights' (2021)

"No matter how hard I try to escape, there's no answer Until I fall asleep in the sun, even deeper I really wanna know, yeah I've already lost control"

This song is performed by Bang Chan and Hyunjin, and according to Genius the song "about compulsion and confusion of ego and about obsession about doing something". One would think, with the sexy sound and concept of the track, it would imply something of a sexy nature. However, it can also be about anything that someone can grow obsessed with. Another person, a feeling, an action, a moment, etc. The line "Tell me you hate me" makes me think of Fenrir talking to Tyr. The music video for the track also heavily features Chan and Hyunjin in chains, so one could also argue the obsession to be the desire to escape from their chains.

"MANIAC" (2022)

"The real self has been released (Yup, yup) Barely holding on (Yup, yup) After blinking once, back Again, back to cosplaying as what society Defines normal to be pow"

'MANIAC' is a song with a visible influence from Mary Shelley's 'Frankenstein' as it explores one's individual uniqueness, the expectations of society (which can delve into toxic perfectionism/happiness, conformity etc) and how we as a people have hidden our inner 'maniac' to fit in with the world. Even when in Asgard, surrounded by the Aesir and Vanir, Fenrir was always gonna be Fenrir. Just by his mere nature, he was deemed an outcast for being a larger and stronger wolf than they had encountered before, something that within itself isn't a crime. Fenrir would likely always be looked down upon if he showed discomfort, anger or any sort of negative emotion. In this song, Stray Kids basically asks the listener to open up their true self, live their authentic selves and enjoy the life they've been given, essentially; "shed the chains society has forced upon you."

"BEWARE" (original; 2018, re-recorded; 2020)

"My current state, the way I talk, my actions I know I shouldn't be like this But everything goes the opposite way I want you to understand me I don't know what will happen Again today, I'm barking"

Remember when I talked about Fenrir and justifiable rage and I brought up youth being angry with elders being condescending with them? This song is my 'case and point'. Going back to what I mentioned in 'MANIAC', no matter what Fenrir did the Aesir were likely not going to view him in a positive light. Ask any person who has tried to get on the good side of someone who couldn't care for them and you'll often find descriptions of growing tire, frustration and rage. Sometimes, we are going to encounter this in life - whether it be a boss who treats us poorly, a colleague/acquaintance/friend gossiping or lying about us behind our back, a family member who has expectations for you that you can't reach no matter what you try etc. Fenrir is no stranger to this; he experienced it firsthand living amongst the Aesir. That rage one feels in these moments is a healthy rage, a voice, which you will find is either being encouraged by Fenrir or is Fenrir himself, screaming at you "This isn't right, I shouldn't be treated like this!"

"SCARS" (2021)

"I'll never cry because I know that it'll never change I'll stay standing and endure it in an unknown place There will be many times I'll almost fall, but Alone, I reach out my hand, alone, I stand back up"

Sometimes, when we face hurdles in our lives we will feel sadness, sorrow or despair. If there's one thing I want to end this made tangent about, it's this; you will face challenges and it's OK to not be happy about it. It's alright to cry, to scream and wail and sob, to shed tears, feel fear, embarrassment, etc. It's alright if you need to punch a pillow or cry yourself to sleep. Remember; Chan probably did the same. For seven years. Fenrir probably did too, stuck within his personal Hell. But if there's one thing you should take from both of them, it's that you are stronger than you think you are. You can survive, you will survive. You will see the light on the other side one day; all it requires is fighting through the pain, even if that means crying from the hurt. We don't leave this life unscathed; we all will die with countless scars, both physical and mental. Be kind to yourself, know you are worthy of being alive right now, and you have the strength to push onwards. Carry the strength of Fenrir - and the strength of Bang Chan and Stray Kids - with you and remember you aren't alone fighting against the chains you've found yourself bound in.

(TLDR; an Autistic Norse Pagan loses were mind when were discovers a Fenrir tattoo design for Chan, goes on a long Stray Kids and Fenrir rant.)

[period-dramallama]

What's your opinion on The White Queen and the other shows in the PGCU?

*stares out of the window, eyes full of memories* The White Queen… now that’s a name I haven’t heard in a long time…

Ah, 2013. Springtime. I was excited for the White Queen to air through the Beeb. Since 2011 I had devoured the first four books of PG’s Cousins’ War series: The White Queen (loved it) The Red Queen (loved it even more) The Lady of the Rivers (you mean best girl Jacquetta gets her own book? RESULT!) The Kingmaker’s Daughter (whaaaat the story is completely different from another person’s POV? MIND BLOWN!)

Yes, people don’t like the role of witchcraft in the story, but I didn’t mind it at all. It made sense to me that women might practice white magic, because medieval people really did believe magic could work. And if the Tudors felt special by claiming descent from King Arthur, it made sense that descent from Melusine would feel special to Elizabeth Woodville and her family. After all, as far as back Julius Caesar people were claiming descent from heroes gods and mythological figures. And yes, it’s a cliché to have your Empowered Woman practice herbology or witchcraft etc Divine Feminine etc, but Margaret Beaufort was a HBIC while explicitly rejecting magic, and the same goes for Anne Neville.

The tabloids were already grumbling about how the show filmed in Belgium because the medieval architecture there was less intruded-upon. Then the first episodes aired and the tabloids were grumbling about zippers, straight teeth, concrete steps, guttering, handrails, Rebecca Ferguson’s accent. ‘It’s not as good as Game of Thrones’. What was this show, ‘Game of Thrones’? I felt rather envious/jealous. I wanted my show to be good. I wanted my show to get good reviews and have people enthused about it and be genuinely objectively well-made. Now I’ve moved beyond this attitude; and if a show is better than ‘my’ show I don’t resent it because there’s nothing to stop me enjoying the better show too.

(….mostly moved beyond this attitude).  

Funnily enough it was because of the White Queen that I landed upon this strangely-formatted website called ‘tumbler’. Sorry, ‘tumblr’.

Ah, the cast! I wouldn’t change a single person. Janet McTeer! James Frain! David Oakes! Rupert Graves! Amanda Hale! Veerle Baetens! Eleanor Tomlinson! Faye Marsay! Aneurin Barnard as Richard the Frodo!

Also, Leo Bill as Reginald Bray, he was great! I remember at the time saying that Reggie B and Maggie B should have their own sitcom spinoff called Saints’ Knees.

Episodes 6 and 7 were my favourite because I was a big Richard/Anne shipper. Even the reviewers came around to the show with episode 9 ‘the Princes in the Tower’.

And then the finale….how I hated it. Bosworth FIELD in a wood?? In winter?? Bullshit! Torpedoing the Richard/Anne ship with INCEST? UGH.

I particularly hated the last scene because it was such a damp squib. The show should have ended on a high note, with Margaret’s triumph, with her dream coming true, with her sheer relief that her only son has gambled his life and won. With mother and son gloriously reunited. But no, it ended with Elizabeth of York, the least interesting character in the whole show. SNORE.  I have the White Queen on DVD but idk if I’ll ever rewatch it.

Then the book The White Princess came out and W-T-F? I loved the first 4 books but the 5th book was a SLOG to get through. What was PGregs thinking?? This wasn’t Henry VII. This wasn’t Elizabeth of York. This wasn’t the Margaret of the Red Queen, with her flaws, her loves, her fears, her strength, her dreams, her humanity. I finished the White Princess but I only got through 2-5 pages of The King’s Curse before I gave up, suspecting that the book would be another 500 pages of whining about the Tudors and nothing else. Yes, it’s unfair to call Margaret Pole whiny as she had legit reasons to be unhappy, but it felt whiny.

Years passed. Empires rose and fell. Ironically, I got into Game of Thrones and read all the books. Then 2015 arrived and I watched the first episode of series 5, realised they made a huge mistake killing off a certain major character, and I was right because it was DOWNHILL ALL THE WAY.

2017. I didn’t watch the White Princess but I followed the Discourse, especially the excellent analysis by MelinaPendulum (now Princess Weekes). In theory, the show should be right up my street. A vengeful princess in love with her shady king uncle? Her shady king uncle is killed in battle and she must marry the conqueror? Vengeful princess vows to be ‘hidden and patient’? It’s enemies to lovers? The conqueror reveals hidden vulnerabilities? She realises she wants her son to be king after his father? She’s torn between her ambition, her mother’s ambition, her brother’s ambition, and her burgeoning desire for her husband, a sexy mop? She destroys her brother, the Rightful King ™? She executes her brother, just as her father executed his own brother? She finds her own power but loses a tiny and precious part of her soul in the process? SIGN ME UP.

The show should have been historically inspired fantasy. Just change the names! The costumes were more fairytale than medieval anyway! Change Richard III to Gorlois, Elizabeth to Igraine, Henry VII to Uther Pendragon.

I loved the posters for The Spanish Princess series 1 but I had no reason to watch it.

And then… The Spanish Princess series 2. What an event that show was! We didn’t know what Fraham would give us each week but we knew it would be illogical, hilarious, terrible, TASTELESS. Reading everyone’s reviews and liveblogs each week, the endless meme potential, the consensus that the show was utter shlock, so lowbrow that it made The Tudors look like Breaking Bad in comparison. The show was so stupid that it was almost beneath contempt. And there were unironically good things about it: Georgie Henley and Sai Bennett acted their socks off and I wish them all the best, I hope they get good parts in better shows. Their characters were genuinely interesting and engaging: fun, sassy, flawed. Me gusta. Maggie Pole, Lina, Oviedo… sympathetic characters with little to do, but it was nice seeing POC and ‘middle aged’ women and I wish they were the protagonists instead of poor Charlotte Hope desperately struggling to speak Spanishly. (Ruairi O’Connor also tried hard, he just wasn’t well-cast or well-written.) In a way, maybe it was more fun than Becoming Elizabeth because at least there was no wasted potential and no frustrated expectations: we expected shlock, we got shlock. The show wasn’t good but the community around the show livened up the end of a….not terrible but definitely WEIRD year of my life.

[powdermelonkeg]

I need your opinion on something; the spirit train from spirit tracks.

What material do you think it's made from? I figure the shiny goldish trimming is some kind of metal like gold or brass, the top part of the passenger car is probably wood and glass, and the red roof on both that and the locomotive is wood as well I think? But I'm not really sure if everything that's blue is wood or metal?

So, this is a multifaceted answer, because I have three separate opinions on it.

In my head, it's wooden. The default train you get for the tutorial is wooden, and metal trains to me either look silver or black.

Adding to this theory is the distinct lack of bolts. Compare to the endgame arena, the Demon Train:

Look how many bolts that baby has! Look how shiny it is! This is absolutely made of metal.

In broader Nintendo Lore (NOT LoZ lore), the Spirit Engine IS metal. Look how it's portrayed in Smash:

The passenger car almost certainly has wooden frames around the windows, but on everything else, the edges have been made to look like metal, bolts included. However, I don't consider this design canon in the world of Hyrule, because it was worked on by different artists than the ones that made Spirit Tracks. What likely happened here is that they were shown a reference picture and told to make it into a stage.

Now, let's get into the worldbuilding answer. Based on it being a steam engine (and ignoring the fact that it doesn't use coal, instead taking energy from the tracks it runs on), wood wouldn't make sense to make an engine out of. The steam would warp it, the firebox is a fire hazard, and the damage this baby sustains as it rides would splinter to bits if it was made of wood.

Yes, I'm aware that there's a wooden train, but there's also a dessert train, and unless strawberry shortcake suddenly has structural integrity, we can't take the customized trains to be any more canon than the Nintendo Switch shirt Link can find in BotW.

But it's not plain metal, either. No bolts visible, and it's colorful. And it's something that hasn't been used in ages, a gift from the gods, without so much as a speck of rust on it.

You know what it does look like, though?

Crimsonine, Azurine, and Aquanine.

These metals helped make up the Phantom Sword in the previous game, Phantom Hourglass, and are the only thing capable of defeating the monster Bellum. With the Spirit Train, they could easily be what makes such a tanky-but-speedy, old-but-functional engine. The colors are a little duller than the raw ores, so maybe they patina over time, like copper.

But what about the gold?

I'd like to direct your attention to one more ore of a similar nature.

This is called Master Ore. It's the material in A Link Between Worlds that's used to give the Master Sword more power. It has a similar crystal formation to the three Pure Metals, and channels magic well enough to defeat monsters with more ease than the regular Master Sword, of all things.

Granted, we find it in a different branch of the official timeline. But there's no reason a resource would just not exist between timelines, just not be widely known.

So, in short: I think the most likely answer as to what the Spirit Train is made of is Master Ore, the three Pure Metals, and possibly steel/iron alloys with the above metals for things like the body of the engine, the wheels and drive rods, and the metal of the cannon.

[tiny-titan-exo]

“Shouldn’t you be on the Throneworld?”

Shaxx’s voice was jovial as the other Titan approaches. Though despite the slight reprimand he reaches out to pat Darrix’s shoulder, puffing his chest out more than usual. “Come for some Crucible, Titan? I’ve got a match coming up in half an hour that could use you.”

Darrix laughs, steadying himself after the well meaning but strong handed pat. “I have today off! Well, from that anyways. I had to help with the Titan situation earlier and I was given leave for the rest of the day. So, I figured I’d do some Crucible!”

Shaxx’s grin was audible in his voice, as was his pride. “I’m glad to hear that, Guardian. Do you need any bounties before you ship out? You’ll need to watch the boards for the arena to be announced, I haven’t quite decided which one I’m going to have you all use yet.”

Darrix can’t help but bounce on their heels, nodding excitedly.

“Okay! And yeah, if you have a melee bounty or a grenade bounty I’ll take those!”

Shaxx picks up his datapad, swiping left on the screen to activate it. “Oh, you know me, I *always* have a grenade bounty. But how about a Super bounty too, eh? You need more practice getting them out in Crucible.”

“Ehh..okay. But only because you say so.” Darrix chuckles, shrugging his shoulders. “You know I’m no good at getting Supers out when I’m panicked.”

“Exactly my point! You need more practice.”

Darrix was a long ways off before Lord Saladin made his way over to the Crucible Handler; casually, but firmly.

“Shaxx. I have a question for you, if you’re not busy.”

Lord Shaxx looked up from the computer that was replaying an earlier match, hands resting on his hips. “Not too busy, no. What’s wrong? Something on your mind?”

“Yes. I’ve noticed that Hive fanatic seems rather drawn to Crucible, and Trials of Osiris, and yet, he avoids Iron Banner like the plague. Any thoughts as to why?”

“Many! I’ve wondered why on several occasions. Partially, I think they’re frightened of failure, and Iron Banner contains many failures.” Shaxx’s hands did not move from his hips, though he rocked once, twice, on his toes.

Saladin, however, did not seem satisfied by this answer, a growl entering his voice. “But that doesn’t keep him away from the Trails, and yet he’s never won a match! He’s never ascended to the Lighthouse! I’m starting to think he never will. So, why is Iron Banner so different?”

Shaxx sighs, heavily, shaking his head and stepping away from the computer to be face to face with the other. “I think that has to do with Saint-14 being his mentor. Saint pushes him to do Trials, and Darrix enjoys the small fireteam format, compared to a bigger team. It’s why they prefer Elimination Crucible to, say, Mayhem. If there’s too much going on, they get overwhelmed, and then they start to fall. I’m trying to work with them about it, but it’s been slow going. But progress is progress nonetheless!”

The growl in Saladin’s voice didn’t subside, even as he begins to pace back and forth along the Crucible platform. “I could help him. You know I could. And yet, he doesn’t even give me the time of day.”

“I think-“ Lord Shaxx butts in, holding up a finger. “That bridge has been burned, my friend.”

Saladin looks up, dark eyes narrowed. “What? How?”

Shaxx glances at the computer as it gives a beep of protest, and he turns to face it once more, typing in a passcode and an override code.

“See, you think your disdain is hidden behind your gruff exterior, but you can’t hide everything. When Darrix first arrived to the Tower, you *were* one of the loudest voices to tell them they weren’t welcome, and that they wouldn’t ever amount to anything.”

“It was fuel for his fire! A chance for them to prove me wrong!” Lord Saladin’s fist slams against a wall, causing Shaxx to growl a warning of his own.

Saladin pauses, taking a breath. “I’m sorry, this is just irritating nonesense. How could that have burned bridges?”

“Not everyone uses that as fuel, Saladin. Darrix isn’t Zavala. They aren’t one of your Young Wolves. They’re very emotionally sensitive, another thing that we’re working on. Well, that’s more Saint and Eris’ domain, but nonetheless. You can’t just yell at them that they will never succeed and expect them to just brush it off. It’s rather like, say, Corinth. You know, Cayde’s kid? You wouldn’t tell him he wouldn’t amount to anything.”

Saladin shakes his head, but hesitated before responding. “No. I wouldn’t. But I don’t let Corinth participate in Iron Banner either.”

Shaxx sighs heavily, shrugging his broad shoulders. “Then I don’t know what you want me to say, besides I don’t think you need to worry about them doing Iron Banner.”

“Tch. If we could get him off of that Throne World, and get them to stop consorting with the Hive, maybe we could turn him into a decent Titan. Give him something worth fighting for.”

Saladin had stopped pacing, his gaze turning outwards, towards the Last City, and then up, at all of the ships littering the sky. “They have the whole of humanity to fight for, and yet all they care about is a bunch of rotting corpses pretending to be Lightbearers.”

Shaxx..almost rose to the bait. He could feel a familiar prickle of Arc energy at the base of his skull, but he ignored it; taking a deep breath instead.

“I understand that you’re upset, Saladin, but that’s no reason to attempt to make me see them in a worse light. I rather like Darrix, if I’m honest. They’re very loyal, and a decent team player, when their competitiveness doesn’t get in their way. You can’t focus on the negative and expect the positive to just appear in front of you.” He glances up, noting the other Titan’s disapproving glare.

“If you don’t believe me, go talk to Eris yourself. Or Ikora. Or Zavala. They all trust our Hive Fanatic, and I trust him too. He’s sweet. Just because you don’t like him doesn’t mean you can make other dislike him.”

Saladin sputtered an angry response, made incoherent by the fact that he was quickly stalking off.

Shaxx smiles a little, behind his helmet, finally turning to fully face his computer once more.

“Now, how about we do give them a little something to fight for. Is the Dreadnaught clear for a match, Arcite?”

[elljayvee]

In other news I have been brooding about Anakin Skywalker today because I made the mistake of reading An Article talking about Who Darth Vader's Daddy Is in the Darth Vader comic book which. OK, so, the Opera Scene in Revenge of the Sith goes like:

PALPATINE: I thought not. It's not a story the Jedi would tell you. It's a Sith legend. Darth Plagueis was a Dark Lord of the Sith, so powerful and so wise he could use the Force to influence the midi-chlorians to create life ... He had such a knowledge of the dark side that he could even keep the ones he cared about from dying.

ANAKIN: He could actually save people from death?

PALPATINE: The dark side of the Force is a pathway to many abilities some consider to be unnatural.

ANAKIN: What happened to him?

PALPATINE: He became so powerful . . . the only thing he was afraid of was losing his power, which eventually, of course, he did. Unfortunately, he taught his apprentice everything he knew, then his apprentice killed him in his sleep. (smiles) Plagueis never saw it coming. It's ironic he could save others from death, but not himself.

And there's been a fan theory I've never particularly liked that takes that scene ("could use the Force to influence the midichlorians to create life") and Anakin's canonical fatherlessness and says: Palpatine created Anakin.

And there are so many issues I have with this I swear -- like, if he did this, why would he then let his specially-created Force baby be raised in slavery that he didn't, like, control -- but apparently this is what the comic book canon has decided to go with. I hate it.

I also hate that it has certain resonances with the whole Palpatine cloning situation and Rey's backstory, and I hate the inevitability it makes of Anakin's turn to the Dark Side.

And yes, Star Wars is fundamentally mythological, and there's a mythological edge to that inevitability, there's the prophetic aspect -- it was always a tragedy, it always had to happen, Oedipus has to kill his father and marry his mother -- but I think this narrative decision in particular weakens the impact of Anakin's choices. To be clear, his choices are bad and his decision-making ability highly questionable, but in a universe where he made those decisions, he owns them -- he's manipulated into making them, and they're terrible and impactful for him and for everyone else. And in a universe next door, he was made to make them. He didn't choose them. He's not anything but a puppet from day one.

I'm not saying it can't make sense. For example, it has never made sense to me that Padme reacted to his murder rampage in Attack of the Clones by...apparently forgetting about it later? (Sure, act calm and sooth the murder rampage guy at the time, you gotta get out alive, but later you should turn that guy in, not marry him like he didn't just murder a whole bunch of people, some of them children). The only way I could figure it was that he had to have mindwhammied her into forgetting about it...but if he's just kind of Dark Side Force Fuckery Incarnated, he might not need to mindwhammy her, he might just have Weird Vibes that mess with the heads of people around him -- maybe it makes the Jedi not notice he's Dark Side Force Fuckery Incarnated, and for non-Force-sensitive people it affects memory formation or processing. Sure! It's an explanation. Is it any better than "Damn, Anakin must have mindwhammied her"? I don't think it is, personally.

[aliengeo]

UNKNOWN STATION ECHO - Day 1

In this post: more about the game concept, how I spent the first day of this development cycle, and my next steps.

USE will be a point-and-click information game. (What's that?) "Translation-based information game" is an idea I've had floating around for some time, so this isn't technically the first day I've ever worked on it, but I'm going to be honest, there wasn't much to report. Most of my ideation was nebulous.

I was inspired to push ahead and really make something of it by two things I saw in the last week:

Watching GMTK's video about limiting scope

Finding out about the Draknek New Voices Puzzle Grant, for which submissions are due by early October

(To be clear, I don't assume that I will receive the grant merely by dint of making a demo. I'm going to put feasible effort into making a good demo with the resources available to me, and if they choose it then Hell Yes. If not, then I still have two months of consistent dev progress under my belt that I wouldn't have had otherwise.)

These served as motivation to sit down and think, what format will allow me to present what I want to present, without introducing additional challenges? I'm one person with limited time and a low-end computer. 3D requires skills I could relearn or obtain, but not immediately. So let's simplify. 2D. A 2D sidescroller still means having to program hitboxes, cameras, and traversal animations. Even simpler. Point-and-click, original Myst style. Just put all the things in front of the player and have them click a button to move to another area. I can prototype that in PowerPoint, love it.

I spent most of my work time figuring out how I intend to work and the order of operations. Kinda dull, sure, but it makes a lot more sense to take the time now to plan ahead than to get way down the line and realize I needed to have details ironed out weeks ago. With that in mind, the rough phases I have planned are:

Planning (we are here)

Language design

Graphical mockup

Text-based technical demo (in Twine)

Technical demo with placeholder graphics (in Godot)

Updating graphics

Improvements and polish

These are not equal in size. I plan for the two tech demos to take up the majority of the time. (I'm demoing first in Twine then in Godot to make sure my logic works before I start messing around with visuals; the resulting Twine file will also serve as a guideline.)

I also took time to set up some mechanisms to keep myself accountable. This includes the devlogs themselves (plan: Cohost and Tumblr daily, Itch weekly), but I also made this chart:

I've broken up the time I have before the grant submission deadline into 7 weeks, as well as a collection of 10 "flex days" that I can either use as days off or to continue counting work days if I've filled up the 7 weeks. If I work for at least an hour, I put a small sticker in the next available work day's box. If I work more than an hour 30, I get a big sticker. This is because I have ADHD and require immediate positive feedback.

For Day 1, I got a dinosaur (big).

Next steps: blocking out the Itch page, writing out explicit goals for me to hit, and setting up a kanban to finish up the planning phase.

[arabellaflynn]

Advent Calendar 06: Don't Copy That Floppy!

Greetings, and welcome to Advent Calendar 2022! This year we're being self-indulgent and rambling about video games.

As usual, the Advent Calendar is also a pledge drive. Subscribe to my writing Patreon here by December 15th for at least $5/mo and get an e-card for Ratmas; subscribe for $20/mo (and drop me a mailing address) and you'll get a real paper one!

I hope you're all having a happy winter holiday season. Let the nerd rambling commence!

In the beginning, nobody copy protected software. If you were buying Big Iron like a PDP-11, you got everything you needed to run the computer from the manufacturer. If you wanted something else, you wrote it yourself, and obviously if you wrote it yourself, you could do whatever you wanted with it. Will Crowther charged nothing for ADVENT, and made no effort to keep anyone else from copying or modifying the source code -- culturally, that just wasn't a thing. Anyone who had access to a mainframe or mini-computer to play the game probably also had enough access to program a game themselves, and the notion of keeping them out of ADVENT's guts was ridiculous. The idea of third-party copyrighted commercial software didn't exist until 8-bit microcomputers started landing in the homes of people who didn't care how they worked, and just wanted them to do neat things.

Early copy-protection on computer games, as mentioned, was external. Diskettes (in the US; cassettes elsewhere) were mainly positioned as storage for the end user. They were supposed to be portable, interchangeable, inexpensive, and easily-duplicated. This made them problematic for commercial publishers who didn't want people running off copy after copy of stuff they were trying to make money off of. By packing games with tchotchkes like feelies, code wheels, LensLok prisms, or just a boring serial number, they at least ensured you couldn't get the game to work without some access to the packaging. I remember playing The Island of Dr. Brain and having to grub around in the included EncycloAlmanaTionaryOgraphy to find a password every time I started it up. 

Beyond that, there wasn't a lot that could be done, other than prey on the conscience of casual pirates with pieces like the embarrassingly 1990s PSA, "Don't Copy That Floppy". It was roughly as effective as the MPAA's 'would you download a car?' campaign. I guess they didn't anticipate that a lot of the public, given the chance to duplicate a car with no significant effort or impact to the original item, would say 'yes'.

On the console side, piracy was deterred by making the physical media difficult to duplicate. Atari, Nintendo, and Sega all went with a cartridge format, where the program code of each game was permanently embedded on a chip called a ROM (read-only memory) inside the plastic shell. These were not impossible to duplicate; my father worked with EEPROMs (electrically erasable programmable read-only memory -- a kind of ROM you can write and re-write), and we probably had everything we needed to copy the program ROM from a game cartridge in our garage. Few people would have had these, though, and fewer people would have bothered. Even Dad didn't, and Dad was the sort who devoted considerable time and energy into figuring out how to copy Macrovision-protected VHS tapes, strictly because the gatekeeping annoyed him.

Console and computer publishers alike got a reprieve with the advent of CD-ROMs, but it was brief. CD-ROM was in development as far back as 1982; the Yellow Book standard was first published in 1983, and the technology demonstrated at a consumer electronics show in 1984. The Philips CM-100, the first consumer CD-ROM drive, was available in 1986, but the format was not mainstream enough to put games on until the early '90s. The Orange Book standard for writable CD-Rs had already been published, in 1988, and by 1995 you could get a CD burner for under $1000, which was cheap enough to make small-scale piracy a reasonable business venture. I recall the family getting a tricked out 486 PC with CD-ROM multimedia package in about '93 or '94, and my big gift for Christmas '99 was an IDE CD burner for my desktop computer, replaced in 2002 with a $200 drive that could deal with CD-RWs. So yeah, the security of an "uncopyable" CD did not last long.

Knowing this, a lot of software publishers implemented their own copy-protection schemes. Some, like SecuROM, were available ready-made from outside vendors and merely slapped on top of the commercial game. These off-the-rack solutions had the same problem as hardware security -- once cracked, they stayed cracked forever, and the crack transferred to anything that used the same version of the program -- and sometimes added an additional layer of "what the actual fuck, did nobody think that through?" 

Others opted to simply code into their game checks for legitimacy of the software. If an authentic retail copy of the software was running, everything would be normal. If the game failed the check and was declared a pirate copy, the programmers could implement whatever consequences they felt would be most effective. 

Or funniest. Usually they went with funniest. 

The bulk of a game's sales happen right after its release, so they didn't need to keep the pirates at bay forever, they just needed to delay and annoy them for a month or two for the extra work to be worth the effort. So over on the PC you get Crysis Warhead's hilarious chicken gun, Serious Sam 3's unkillable scorpion stalker, and Alan Wake and Quantum Break slapping a jaunty eyepatch on your main character. And on the original Playstation, perhaps the most infamous piece of console anti-piracy fuckery ever made, Spyro the Dragon.

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[thegodwhocums]

got excited to talk to more mystical and wizardly folks both local and online AND ramp up our Devotional Shenanigans over the summer but we were very busy at Ye Olde Intentionale Communittee with hosting outdoor gatherings and also holding down jobs and/or grad school. immediate pressing concerns took priority and the occult aspirations got sidelined. bah. ramping back up as capacity allows.

full moon Agdistis offerings are still ongoing but I've been doing them alone. Rocket has had a lot of work and travel stuff so I am just trying to keep a regular practice with the daemon even if we can't do it together. it's not what I would prefer but it's something.

I won't share TOO many details but a recent success was our Friday the 13th all-outdoor t4t play party in the woods. maybe a couple dozen freaky queers having a great time illuminated (and warmed) by our ritual fire pit, truly a thing of beauty. when I say it PAINS me to not have this be explicitly devotional... but perhaps in the spring. this is our second attempt (I say "our" but I didn't do hardly any of the planning work) and both have been successful so there is now a model to build off of. hot summer 2024 t4t bacchanal here we fucking GO, hail Pseudanor.

November is coming which means @trans-rite aka the Transgender Rite of Ancestor Elevation is coming and the new format is... mostly? solid?? but we don't have a new date??? so we gotta do some div and get that figured out.

I have harvested and dried a lot of herbs, and so far my bees have not died. I have harvested some propolis that I want to try to use in incense as an offering. it's made out of plant resins and I think it would bind other herbs amazingly.

my altar needs to be reorganized and I don't know how I want to change it yet so I am feeling antsy about that. at this point it feels bad to use and even to approach, which is a self-reinforcing issue. so I need to get that figured out.

sex is becoming increasingly approachable which is allowing me to find all the SECRET ways in which it remains unapproachable. am considering booking a few sessions with a trans sex therapist.

I have a plan for making my iron Dionysos mask weatherproofed enough to hang it in a garden shrine but I have not yet executed that plan.

what else, what else. lots going on. trans joy, work headaches. weather disasters, carnage. same as it ever was.

state of the blogger update overdue

[seeuonadarknite]

good girl -- yandere dazai + chuuya x f. reader

request: Hey! Can I get a Dazai and Chuuya sharing darling noncon and punishment + I was the one that asked for Dazai and Chuuya! Is it ok if you add breeding kink please. 🥺

❀ yes ofc bby :) this has been in my drafts FORVER.. i just never got to formatting it :’)

warnings: noncon, spanking, fingering, facefucking, breeding kink, implied kidnapping

"Oh? And where do you think you're going?"

You really messed up this time. Something must have possessed you for you to believe that trying to sneak out of the house these two ruffians confined you in whilst they were home was a good idea. Sure, they left you unrestricted during the times that they were home, but that didn't mean you weren't being supervised.

In a sense you were like an unleashed dog running off from its owners on a walk around the block. Although it would be a hassle to take time out of their day to retrieve you, they'd still do it in a heartbeat because you mattered to them. That didn't mean that it wouldn't still entail punishment; they couldn't just let you off the hook after pulling an immature stunt like that.

And the worst part was that you weren't surprised that you were caught red handed whatsoever. Dazai had eyes and ears everywhere. How foolish could you possibly be thinking that he wouldn't catch on with your little escape plan? Hell, you didn't even manage to make it past the welcoming mat before you were stopped dead in your tracks.

It was frustrating beyond belief how nonchalant he seemed about it, because you knew damn well that he was just as livid as his partner, Chuuya. Only difference was that Chuuya was visibly smoldering with anger, whereas Dazai just sported a condescending grin that had vexation written all over it.

Stood at the bottom of the stairs near the door, you cowered away from the two seething males like a cat, coincidentally backing yourself into the nearest wall. Good going. It felt like your heart was pounding out of your chest with all of the nerves you were feeling, because you knew you were royally fucked. These two certainly didn't play nice, not even with their beloved girlfriend.

It was hard to shake off their blazing glares burning holes into your figure. You couldn't tell if Chuuya was about ready to either eat you alive or tear you to shreds. Either way, he'd at least be quick in his movements; it made him the lesser of two evils. Dazai would probably take his sweet time in tearing you apart, relishing in the way your face would contort in agony. It really shocked you that people called this man a masochist.

"I-I'm sorry! Please, don't hurt me.." You whimpered, hugging your body as if it would provide protection from the two males staring you down like a piece of meat. It really sucked that you were even stuck in this position in the first place. Your relationship with the two boys started off pretty innocent, but there was a point in time where they lost trust in you for whatever reason. Their insecurities poisoned your "unbreakable" bond, driving them to lock you up and hide you away from the public eye.

The mischievous pair both shot each other a look, before Dazai calmly approached your cowering figure. He wrapped his slender fingers around your wrists, forcefully pulling them off of their spots on your sides. "Dear [y/n], you're not gonna get out of this with just a tap on the wrist.." Dazai trailed off, giving his partner a chance to finally butt in. "We've been way too fucking lenient with you. It's about time you learn your place." The hotheaded male barked, watching as you automatically flinched at the increase in volume. However, it wasn't as if you could instinctively hide your face in your hands. Not with Dazai forcefully prying them apart with his iron grip on each wrist.

Before you could retaliate, Dazai was already carrying you bridal style towards your shared bedroom with Chuuya hot on your trail. Yeah, shared bedroom. With all three of you. Every single night you'd be sandwiched between the two, with Chuuya hugging you from behind like a teddy bear, and Dazai with his lanky arm draped over your side and head sitting atop yours. Even without any technical forms of restraint, they still offered you no opportunity to slip from their grasps whilst they slept.

After taking a seat on the edge of the king bed, Dazai bent you over his knee within a fluid movement. Meanwhile, Chuuya sat adjacent to Dazai in order to wrap his fingers around your jaw and forcibly tilt your head upwards towards his. You could feel your blood rush to your cheeks in embarrassment. The fact that there were two of them getting off to this only added insult to injury.

"Ahh, I'm going to have to take your bottoms off, my darling. You've been quite naughty, haven't you?" Dazai purred into your ear, unable to contain the smirk that stretched across his face at the sight of his partner glaring you down. His snarl made him look like a feral animal foaming at the mouth. It almost tore your attention away from Dazai wrapping his lengthy fingers around the elastics of your shorts and panties, pulling the clothing articles right off of your body with one harsh tug.

"Osamu please—" Your pleads were abruptly cut off by Chuuya's free hand swiping across your cheek, causing an ear deafening smack to echo through your ears. It took a second for you to process the stinging sensation left on your skin.

However, before you could really brood on it, Dazai's calloused hand was already gently rubbing on the skin of your lower cheek. It may have seemed like a loving gesture, but you knew all too well what it entailed. The way he ran his hand over your rear rivaled the way a nurse would wipe your arm before injecting it with a needle. It was merely preparation for the real thing.

Words couldn't describe how agonizing it was anxiously awaiting Dazai's next course of action. It wasn't as if you could anticipate when it would come, not with Chuuya forcing your head in place with his fingers digging into your jaw. All you could do was pathetically stare into the shorter male's eyes as you idly stood by.

Chuuya, however, had a perfect view of your rear end and could easily predict when Dazai would finally begin your dreadful punishment by watching him finally swing his open hand down towards your ass cheek. "Count." Chuuya's stern voice overlapped with the sharp sound of Dazai's hand delivering a hefty smack to your rear. A shrill yelp escaped your lips at the all too familiar burning sensation.

"O-One.." You stuttered, feeling slightly intimidated with Chuuya's gaze burning holes into you. There wasn't anything you could do to avoid it with the way his hand locked your face in place. You had no other option other than to stare into your tormentor's eyes as his partner assaulted your rear end with his large hand.

By the time that Dazai had delivered the final blow to your rear, you felt hot, salty tears pouring down your face and onto Chuuya's hand. Nine spanks must not have been enough for him, judging by the way he made you count to ten. The reddened skin of your ass cheek felt like it was on fire with the burning sensation Dazai had inflicted upon it.

A small smirk tore across Chuuya's face as he finally let go of your aching jaw, diverting his attention towards your previously assaulted cheek. The way your skin rose ever so slightly in the form of a vibrant, red handprint left his cock twitching in his pants. It seemed that Dazai for once shared the same mindset with Chuuya, seeing as his clothed bulge was poking onto your bare leg. They had to be joking. Wasn't humiliating you by holding you down and bruising your ass under their scrutiny enough of a punishment? Your body would probably give out if they kept going at this rate.

Unfortunately for you, these two men were insatiable and held absolutely no regard for how you felt. They'd dish out any type of punishment that they deemed necessary; you did this to yourself, anyway. They weren't holding you at gunpoint when you pathetically tried scampering away from them. Everything that you did was all on your own accord.

Dazai ran two fingers along your folds from behind, tracing the sensitive skin in a V motion. Meanwhile, Chuuya was unbuckling his trousers whilst staring you down with a menacing grin tearing across his face. This was just great; your most sensitive parts were being rubbed and prodded at like a toy, and your mouth was about to be used as a fuckhole. That damned smile on his face told you everything you needed to know.

Whilst you unintentionally rubbed yourself against Dazai's thigh in order to create friction, his slim fingers dipped into your needy hole, automatically evoking a sharp gasp from you. Chuuya took advantage of your parted lips and slipped his erect cock into the warm, wet caverns of your mouth. His lengthy cock felt foreign in the confines of your mouth; his length never looked like something you'd be capable of taking without gagging, but the aching pains he left on the back of your throat after bruising you with his tip proved otherwise.

"Take it like the good little whore that you are. You like that, gagging on my fat cock while getting your pretty little cunt fingered at the same time?" Chuuya grunted, tangling his fingers into your sweat permeated hair. Your lack of responsiveness seemed to tick Dazai off, because he suddenly began pumping his fingers in and out of you at a hostile pace, sporting a distinctive glare that would most definitely send chills running up your spine had you been able to see it.

What were you supposed to do? It wasn't as if you could speak with a massive cock stuffing your mouth full and a pair of fingers knuckle deep inside of you. All you could really do to help your case was focus on breathing and try not to gag. Chuuya was already infuriated enough.

It was when Dazai began palming your clit and curling his fingers on that spongy spot inside of you that you began to feel the coil in your stomach begin to grow tight. It was unbelievably difficult to contain yourself with Dazai's fingers continuously curling up against your g-spot, and Chuuya's swelling tip hitting the back of your throat at a bruising pace. 

Tossing all rational thoughts to the side, you felt yourself clench tightly around Dazai's nimble fingers. However, once your hips stilled on his hands, preparing to release your juices on his fingers and coat them with your slick, his movements completely ceased. What?

"Aw, [y/n], did you forget? Bad girls don't get to cum." He mockingly cooed into your ear, watching as Chuuya forced your head in place in order for him to shoot ropes of cum into your wet cavern. Thanks to the sticky substance flooding your mouth, rendering it impossible to breathe, you weren’t given a chance to sulk on the absence of Dazai's fingers.

You did, however, notice him abruptly drag your hips towards the center of the bed with him, forcing you to release Chuuya's cock from your mouth. It barely gave you enough time to frantically swallow his seed. But you knew damn well that if you spat it out on the sheets, Chuuya would simply make you lick up your mess like a mutt.

This was all your fault. None of this would have happened if you had just stayed in your lane and knew your place. If you had just been obedient from the start, you wouldn't have to whine at the feeling of Dazai's tip prodding against your weeping hole. You wouldn't have to cast your eyes towards the floor whilst Chuuya jacked himself off at the sight of his partner slowly easing himself into your tight hole. Hell, you'd probably be cuddling up with the two on the couch right about now if you had just listened like a good girl.

"Fuck, look at you. Do you like getting used like a fleshlight? Because that's all you're good for." Chuuya spat into your ear with malice lacing his tone. If you weren't so hung up on the feeling of Dazai vigorously pummeling into you from behind, you would've been hurt by his harsh words. 

"O-Osamu— please, slow down!" Asking him to stop was out of the question. The most you could do to defend yourself was to at least try and get him to alleviate his bruising pace. If he continued at this rate, his palms would end up leaving dark contusions on your hips and his ferocious thrusts would weaken your lower body strength, immobilizing for who knows how long.

Alas, your pleads fell upon deaf ears as Dazai only fastened his feral pace. "Ahh, keep singing for me, my darling!" The bandaged brunette practically moaned, relishing in the lewd mewls and keens that fell from your lips. Within every moment that passed, your walls would hug around his cock even more tenaciously. It would only be a matter of time until his end neared.

The once silent room was now filled with the obscene sounds of skin slapping, synchronized grunts, and pathetic whines. Chuuya finished himself off a lot quicker than Dazai, as he pumped his throbbing cock one last time before spilling his seed. However, this time his aim was towards your face, his fluids permeating your skin and a bit of your hair.

"Lick it off." Chuuya ordered in a stern tone, admiring his grotesque handiwork from afar. He made a complete mess of your face, his cum smudging your makeup and dribbling down your chin. You made a pathetic attempt to stretch your tongue out and lap up whatever remaining cum you could reach on your face.

It wasn't easy to pretend that you couldn't see the triumphant smirk etched across Chuuya's face as you halted your movements, overwhelmed by the feeling of Dazai's tip hammering your cervix. If it wasn’t for your cervix blockading your womb, he'd probably be fucking that as well. With each bone breaking thrust, it felt like he impossibly reached deeper into the constricting walls of your cunt.

It was when Chuuya forcibly melded his lips with yours in a viciously hungry kiss that you finally broke, your cunt clamping around Dazai's cock, lubing it up with your slick. As you rode out your long awaited orgasm, Chuuya swallowed your gasps, exploring your wet caverns with his skillful tongue.

"Are you trying to drain me dry? Very well, you call the shots, [y/n]. I'm sure you would look a lot cuter with my baby in your arms." He cooed, training his eyes on Chuuya's contorted expression as he rapidly rocked his hips against yours, almost as if aiming to shoot his seed as deeply as possible inside of you. "You shithead! I'll cum inside 'er too once you finally get off!"

In any normal case, you would've tried stepping between them by now. But their clashing of heads meant nothing when Dazai's twitching cock was readying itself to empty its contents inside of you. God, you weren't ready to be a mother. You didn't deserve this. You didn't—

"Osamu, let me go!" You began wailing and screaming, but it was to no avail. It wasn't hard for Chuuya to shut you up by forcing your face down into the mattress with the simple shove of his hand.

With one last hostile thrust, bottoming out inside of you, Dazai shot his load into the fluttering walls of your cunt, completely draining his balls directly into your womb. He painted your insides white with each thick spurt of cum. "Ahh, sorry, what was that?" He taunted before reluctantly dragging his cock out of the twitching walls of your heat at an agonizingly slow pace. Once he finally pulled out of your weeping cunt, he watched with utter bliss as his semen began pooling out of your quivering hole.

Without another word, Dazai tucked his cock back into his pants and began to retreat from your trembling form. However, before he stepped out of the room, he shot Chuuya one last glance, watching him flip you over and throw your useless legs over his shoulders. "Try to make it quick. I know you have the freakish stamina of an animal but I'd like to feed our [y/n] some dinner before bed, okay?"

"I'll do what I want, shithead!"

Good luck catching a break between these two.

[hakasims]

The Most In-depth Analysis of Luca Marinelli’s Characters You’ll Ever Need

You’d think I was done with classifications, but I’m not! There’s so much more I can say about Luca Marinelli’s oeuvre and his magnificent roster of characters. And yes, I’ve made this post before where I highlighted specific tropes that show up in a lot of his movies, but that was surface-level shit. This is an actual exploration of what makes a Luca Marinelli character besides being a kinky little whore. And don’t worry, it’s still in that user-friendly question-answer format because I love you.

Here’s the thing: Luca is a chameleon but he also has a type, and this type is:

✨ a (likely) queer repressed addict with daddy issues ✨

That’s the skeleton. Let’s see how many of his major roles possess that skeleton at all and what flavors they add to the picture.

Disclaimer: I excluded characters with little screen time and Joseph from Mary of Nazareth because he doesn’t deserve rights. Also, instead of going in the boring chronological order, I’m gonna start with the least typical character for Luca and end with the crème de la crème. The results may not surprise you.

Nicky (The Old Guard)

Is he queer? Undeniably.

Is he repressed? No.

Does he have an addiction? No.

Does he have daddy issues? I know we’re all deeply affected by our shitty father figures but I would genuinely question Nicky’s sanity if he were still on that shit at the ripe age of 951. A little tip for daddy-hating immortals out there: just do what Angel did and kill your shitty dad. Problem solved.

Is he violent? Despite doling out tons of violence, he doesn’t have a violent nature and seems uninterested in hating his enemy or delivering retribution.

Does he need a good night sleep? I’m sure nothing helps one sleep better than a Joe-shaped big spoon.

Does he need a good cry? Doesn’t seem like it.

Flavors: A perfect immortal warrior bean in a healthy relationship.

Conclusion: Ironically but unsurprisingly, Nicky is the least Luca-like character.

Guido (Tutti i santi giorni)

Is he queer? I don’t believe so but who knows? If someone told me he’s demisexual, I’d believe it.

Is he repressed? The movie may disagree, but I say yes, obviously.

Does he have an addiction? Not unless you count his romantic relationship.

Does he have daddy issues? His family is so supportive and wholesome it’s almost parodic.

Is he violent? He’s the opposite of a toxic macho dude, but then he has a violent outburst out of nowhere because the movie is bad.

Does he need a good night sleep? He doesn’t like sleeping at night.

Does he need a good cry? Naturally.

Flavors: An adorkable awkward nerd with flowery speech.

Conclusion: I can forgive straightness and wholesomeness but I can’t forgive lack of complexity.

Martin (Martin Eden)

Is he queer? I don’t believe so.

Is he repressed? Yes.

Does he have an addiction? No.

Does he have daddy issues? Not to my knowledge.

Is he violent? When he deems it necessary to be.

Does he need a good night sleep? Sure.

Does he need a good cry? Cry your little heart out, Martin!

Flavors: An arrogant, pretentious, politically confused writer.

Conclusion: A little too straight for your typical Luca, but he makes up for it with being complex and complicated.

Loris (Il mondo fino in fondo)

Is he queer? I don’t believe so.

Is he repressed? So fucking repressed!

Does he have an addiction? Nothing beyond his savior complex.

Does he have daddy issues? He has a shitty dad he’s spent his whole life trying to please, and also his mommy left, so like yeah, obviously.

Is he violent? He has his straight dude moments.

Does he need a good night sleep? Definitely.

Does he need a good cry? Oh yeah, let him cry, it’s good for him.

Flavors: A casually homophobic mother hen.

Conclusion: Ruined by heterosexual agenda.

Lui (Ricordi?)

Is he queer? I don’t believe so.

Is he repressed? Very.

Does he have an addiction? No.

Does he have daddy issues? A big sack of them.

Is he violent? No.

Does he need a good night sleep? Oh yes. To sleep, perchance to dream about anything other than his traumatic memories.

Does he need a good cry? So much.

Flavors: Up-his-butt and pensive.

Conclusion: Leave it to Luca to take a guy who would be an absolute nightmare in real life and turn him into someone I actually want to watch for two hours and see happy by the end.

Gabriele (Waves)

Is he queer? There’s evidence he might be gay.

Is he repressed? I’d bet on it.

Does he have an addiction? Doesn’t seem like it.

Does he have daddy issues? Nobody knows.

Is he violent? No.

Does he need a good night sleep? He probably will with how the movie ended.

Does he need a good cry? At least one.

Flavors: A sweet introverted guy who loves boats.

Conclusion: While not particularly complex, Gabriele has layers and nuances. Also give him a big muscular daddy.

Fabrizio (Fabrizio de André - Principe libero)

Is he queer? I don’t believe so.

Is he repressed? He was before music became his only career.

Does he have an addiction? Alcohol, cigarettes, sex, cheating - take your pick.

Does he have daddy issues? Not as bad as some of the other guys here but he’s heard his fair share of “I’m not mad, I’m disappointed” speeches.

Is he violent? He’s soft.

Does he need a good night sleep? He’s an artist, what do you think?

Does he need a good cry? He’s an artist, what do you think?

Flavors: Fabrizio de André is the flavor.

Conclusion: Even though it’s a biopic, there are still many Luca-isms there. He’s just that kind of actor.

Milton (Una questione privata)

Is he queer? It could be argued that he is bisexual.

Is he repressed? Do you even need to ask?

Does he have an addiction? About half of the breaths he takes are filled with cigarette smoke.

Does he have daddy issues? He seems to have a good and loving relationship with both his parents.

Is he violent? Not by nature.

Does he need a good night sleep? Yep.

Does he need a good cry? He certainly does.

Flavors: A repressed bisexual feeling powerless in a horrible world.

Conclusion: This is proof that Luca can carry a whole entire movie on his sexy shoulders, alone. Also Milton needs a safe and loving triad.

Mattia (La solitudine dei numeri primi)

Is he queer? I personally read him as asexual. Though assigning asexuality to characters who are traumatized is a dangerous path so don’t quote me on this, okay?

Is he repressed? Just the most repressed.

Does he have an addiction? It’s debatable whether self-harm and eating disorders can be considered addictions, but they’re part of his character, and I thought you should know.

Does he have daddy issues? His parents played their part in messing him up which then led to the big thing that really messed him up, though other than that his dad is barely a presence.

Is he violent? Not at all.

Does he need a good night sleep? At least 17 hours.

Does he need a good cry? Oh, so much. He needs all the cry.

Flavors: A quiet genius with lots of guilt.

Conclusion: Can you believe this was his first film role? Our boy is talented af!

Fabio (Lo chiamavano Jeeg Robot)

Is he queer? Undeniably.

Is he repressed? You could argue that he is repressed by being limited in his place in social hierarchy.

Does he have an addiction? Amazingly enough, no. He has fixations, though.

Does he have daddy issues? Thinking his father was a loser and not wanting to end up like him is textbook stuff.

Is he violent? Very.

Does he need a good night sleep? Yes please.

Does he need a good cry? He needs to purge his soul from all the bottled up stuff.

Flavors: A campy psycho.

Conclusion: Luca’s most iconic character, so of course he scored high on the list.

Paolo (Il padre d’Italia)

Is he queer? Undeniably.

Is he repressed? I can’t even start listing all the ways in which he’s repressed.

Does he have an addiction? He smokes a lot.

Does he have daddy issues? His issues are more of a mommy variety.

Is he violent? Not in the slightest.

Does he need a good night sleep? He’s the poster boy for needing a good night sleep.

Does he need a good cry? A good cry, a good weep, a good sob, a good bawl, *googles more synonyms* a good wail, a good squall...

Flavors: A self-loathing gay orphan in need of some life goodness.

Conclusion: What can I say about Paolo that all of you aren’t already thinking? Decent film, great character, excellent portrayal.

Mickey (Die Pfeiler der Macht)

Is he queer? Undeniably.

Is he repressed? It’s Victorian England, you guys.

Does he have an addiction? He smokes casually but other than that... eh. And don’t tell me he has sex addiction. He uses his body strategically.

Does he have daddy issues? If what he has isn’t daddy issues, I don’t know what is.

Is he violent? He’s got tons of bottled up aggression.

Does he need a good night sleep? It would be great if he could use the day’s darkest hours for sleeping.

Does he need a good cry? Undeniably.

Flavors: A conniving slut extraordinaire.

Conclusion: A major player in the book (says me who managed like 50 pages), Mickey Miranda was turned into such a nothing character in the miniseries that they needed a truly extraordinary actor to make him memorable. And guess what, Luca delivered.

Cesare (Non essere cattivo)

Is he queer? Not explicitly, but come on.

Is he repressed? Lethally.

Does he have an addiction? He’s an addiction textbook.

Does he have daddy issues? *Jake Peralta voice* Yeah, the guy without a daddy is the one with daddy issues. Explain that logic.

Is he violent? Oh yeah, he’s a rabid little trash goblin.

Does he need a good night sleep? So much.

Does he need a good cry? He’s had his fair share of good cries, but he could always use more.

Flavors: A aimless junkie.

Conclusion: The quintessential Luca. Beautiful.

Primo (Trust)

Is he queer? Listen, just because we don’t see him fuck a dude on screen it doesn’t mean he isn’t a motherfluffing queer icon. It’s not subtext; it’s TEXT.

Is he repressed? Where do I even fucking start?

Does he have an addiction? Oh yeah. And a coke nail to prove it.

Does he have daddy issues? I would need a whole separate post to unpack his daddy issues.

Is he violent? So very violent.

Does he need a good night sleep? Yes, please. On an actual bed in an actual bedroom.

Does he need a good cry? You can just tell.

Flavors: A ruthless criminal with a strong mafia boss potential.

Conclusion: The pièce de résistance of the Luca Marinelli filmography. Not only does he tick every box, he gets bonus points for the excellent wardrobe choices that emphasize Luca’s best features. Primo Nizzuto is everything great you want from Luca, except singing. (Though in my headcanon that whole white car in a snowstorm monologue was a musical number.)

[anauthore]

Escape From Halloweentown {Jack Skellington x Reader} CHAPTER 2

Summary: When a game of hide-and-seek goes wrong, you find yourself lost in the woods without a way home. Whether it be fate, or just dumb luck, you suddenly find yourself in a far bigger predicament than you ever thought you would be- and it’s not just because you can’t seem to find your little brother.

Pairing: Reader / Jack Skellington. A very slow burn fic.

NOTE: This is a full-length fanfic! If you don’t want to read chapter by chapter on tumblr, please use the following links to read in a different format / on a different website!

Wattpad | Quotev | AO3

Fic Below the Cut | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

A skeleton. 

Or, at least, something not at all human.

Your eyes didn’t move from the creature at all, paralyzed to his tall, thin form and rounded skull with empty black holes for eyes. You could just make out his vertebrae peeking out from his suit’s collar, fused at the ends in what seemed more like a neck of bone rather than a spine.

He spoke, his voice not at all what you were expecting, his ‘lips’ parting to reveal yellowed, rotting teeth with yet another black void to make up his mouth. 

“Why, hello! And who may you be, miss?”

His politeness stirred something up within you, although the primal fear you were experiencing was far stronger than any other emotion you’d ever felt in all 17 years of your life. You were stuck to the edge of the couch, feet spread so that if you had to, you could jump up and make an escape.

“Can you-” Jack turned to Prince, quieting his tone so that it wasn’t as menacing. “Can she hear me okay?” His brow bone was raised in what you read as concern which only confused you more.

Prince nodded, speaking in that scratchy voice of his that sent shivers down your back. “Yes, she can. She’s a human, you know- She shouldn’t be here.”

The other vampires agreed, nodding their heads. You realized that these vampire-obsessed ‘people’ probably weren’t people either, considering the monster that was Jack standing before you. Your heartbeat quickly and you felt more and more like a caged animal as every aching second passed.

“I know.”

They all turned to look at you, and you couldn’t control your breathing any longer. The fear you’d pushed down suddenly bubbled up and you could feel it turn into tears that threatened to spill from your lids.

“What are you gonna do?” You had to focus really hard to keep your lip from trembling. Your parents had taught you how to stand up to a predator, or a kidnapper, but never to a real-life monster. You imagined the worst and had forgotten everything you knew about self-defense. Right now, you were running on the ever building adrenaline and instinct in your body.

“We’ll just have to figure that out, won’t we?” His lips turned upward in a smile, and you couldn’t help but think that this must be what mice feel when they get put into a cage with a hungry snake. You couldn’t think of anything else to say, so you sniffed back your tears and kept quiet while you were in the spotlight of everyone’s scrutinous gaze.

You did the only thing you could do besides listening to their plans on what to do with you; you took in every detail you possibly could, from the bony hands and odd dress wear the men had to the interior decoration of the living room you were sitting in. You went as far as to describe the smell of the musk and mold in your head, just in case that would at all be important for a future investigation.

Your mind started to wander back to your brother. Had these monsters taken him, too? Oh, God, what did they do with him?

You bowed your head and let strands of your hair fall forward. You were ashamed to find yourself in this situation. You were ashamed to have even lost your brother in the first place. And now, you were ashamed to be stuck in a room with people you didn’t know, possibly a future murder case. You let a few stray tears run down your cheek, your chest aching and your nails digging into your thighs.

The floor creaked as someone moved, and your head jerked up to watch what they were doing. You stopped crying out of fear, though the blood had already begun to rush to your face and your eyes had started to swell.

Jack stepped forward, his spider-esque legs all you could see directly in front of you as he towered over your hunched form. He bent over so that he was face-to-face with you and extended a bony hand for you to take. You didn’t know whether you should take it or not, and so you didn’t.

His brow bone crooked upward and he put the hand on his hip, posing as if he were an angry teen girl. You would’ve found this humorous had you not been so scared.

“C’mon, now, don’t be so stubborn.” He reached out his hand once more, this time with more of an exaggerated flick of his wrist, and this time you took it, timidly placing your palm into his cold digits. He grasped your wrist, though it felt less like fingers and more like tiny, stone snakes curling around you. He pulled you up and put an arm around your shoulder, nudging you toward the door with his phalanges loosely wrapped around your flesh. “Out we go!”

The door opened again and he said goodbye to his partners in crime, walking you to a destination unknown. You had half of a mind to run- after all, the houses were as still as when you’d arrived, and there didn’t seem to be an extra step in the dirt anywhere. Still, you imagined that there were more menacing monsters out there besides Jack and the vampires, so you obeyed the skeleton man and went wherever he wanted you to go.

You passed the familiar fountain and he nudged you toward a road opposite of where you’d come in. You’d noticed it, sure, but you hadn’t given it a second glance. You regretted that now, because if you had, you might’ve had a better chance at planning your next escape- whenever that would be, if it would even have a chance to happen.

His pace quickened, his long legs using little to no effort at all as he walked next to you, who was struggling to keep up with him. He pushed you along gently- if you could call his bones prodding into your back gentle- and gave you very little time to look at the buildings that lined the street. You looked down at your feet most of the time, trying not to trip on a loose brick or stone.

When Jack stopped, you kept going, and he had to grab you by the hood of your jacket to keep you from running into a gate very similar to the one that you’d passed in the graveyard. You wheezed at having been nearly choked and stepped back, watching as he raised a brow and pursed his lip at you. You cleared your throat and apologized quietly, still very obviously afraid of him.

With one hand he gripped your sleeve and with the other he made a skeleton key seemingly appear from thin air. He unlocked the gate- black iron shaped to look like a jack-o-lantern- and pushed it open with his back as he pulled you along. You, of course, followed, glancing upward to realize that he was leading you toward the tower you had seen nearly from the forest.

It looked as if it were balanced precariously on the edge of the long line of steps that lead up to it. Your fear grew as now you weren’t only scared of Jack, but also about the possibility of this building collapsing under the weight and pressure it was put under. It must’ve been old- the windows looked like they belonged in a church and the wood was cracked and peeling. When you walked up the stairs, they creaked under your weight. You spotted numerous screws and nails loosened and sticking out from the sides- which were completely open and almost beckoning you to fall over the side to the ground. 

The climb had your knees weak and your legs shaking as you struggled not to think about the steep drop you’d encounter had you tried to leave at this point. Your captor didn’t seem at all bothered- he opened up his front door just fine and pushed you inside the doorframe, which was stretched to accommodate his unusual height. 

Immediately, the living room threw you for a loop. There was a single loveseat in the middle of the room, which connected to what you thought was a kitchen. Why a skeleton needed to eat, you didn’t know, but you hoped his diet didn’t consist of human. 

He shut the door behind you both and continued to push you to the corner of the living room. There were yet another set of thin, precarious stairs that you climbed, leading to a spiral staircase enclosed in tube-like walls. Only when you reached the top was there a railing, decorated as every other railing in this town seemed to be. There were windows spanning the entirety of the wall all around you, save for where the fireplace and bookshelves were. Around there was normal décor; a telescope, playing cards and stuffed animals sitting on a desk with a chair neatly pushed into it, a dog bed, and a small, round rug that occupied one corner of the room. The only thing that stood out to you entirely was the electric chair replica opposite of where you stood. You wouldn’t put it past Jack for it to be the real thing, and you didn’t really want to find out, but you doubted that you had a choice.

He must’ve noticed your wide eyes taking in everything because he grabbed your shoulders and waved an arm in front of you in a grand gesture. “Now, I know this may be a lot to take in, but I promise this place is very accommodating.” He then positioned himself in front of you so that you had to look at him and smiled.

He moved around behind you and nudged you further, toward the chair that you had just been hoping you didn’t have to interact with at all. You froze up, looking back and forth between what you could see of him and the chair.

He patted the seat gently, as if it were a horse or a leather couch, obviously wanting you to sit. You started to shake your head, but he interrupted you once again with words.

“C’mon now, it doesn’t bite. It isn’t even plugged in! I know how fragile humans are, believe it or not. It’s comfortable, you’ll see.”

You still didn’t want to sit, and if you could, you’d avoid it at all costs. “No. I won’t sit.”

He paused, and for a moment you were afraid that you’d pissed him off. “Excuse me?”

You cleared your throat again, trying your best to focus on his eye-holes. “I said no. I’m not sitting in an electric chair. Please.”

He stood up and tilted his head, as though you’d offended him by not sitting down. “Very well then. I don’t think the floor is very comfortable, but if you’d rather make yourself at home there, then I won’t stop you.”

And just like that, the subject was dropped. He didn’t seem angry, or like he wanted to punish you. In fact, he seemed about as confused at your behavior as you were at his. Your mind was running rampant with possible explanations, none of which fitting the puzzle piece you needed to figure this endeavor out.

After another aching moment of silence, decorated by the sound of the wind against the glass outside, you asked what’s been on your mind since he’d arrived at the vampires’ house.

“What are you going to do with me?”

Jack sighed, and sat in the electric chair himself with a hand placed under his chin and his legs spread out so that he was comfortable. 

“Well,” he stalled, making you think that he didn’t know what he was to do at all, “you’re staying with me.”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes, anger bubbling up within you. You had just been kidnapped, and all he could tell you was something completely obvious? You opened your mouth to retort, but you thought better of it. You still couldn’t put your finger on him.

He tilted his head to look at you, and you licked your lips out of nervous habit. The wind had made them dry, and you were starting to feel thirsty. Jack definitely had a keen eye, because his next sentence was right on par:

“Are you hungry? Or perhaps thirsty?”

You slowly nodded, walking on eggshells as to not trigger his back-and-forth nature. You were still afraid of him, and his kindness made you think about the very real possibility of becoming a sufferer of Stockholm Syndrome.

He stood from the chair and started to step forward to you. You took a step back and craned your neck to look up at him, hoping that you didn’t look as scared as you felt. He stopped and looked away from you.

“I-” he took in a breath and stared you down, his demeanor back to the way it was when you’d first met him. His voice boomed with authority now, his soft side (or whatever it was he’d shown you in the first minutes when you’d been introduced to his observatory) now completely gone. “I can’t leave you up here alone. You have to sit in the chair.”

You shook your head. Between everything, you’d gained some of your fighting spirit back, and so you spoke your mind. “No.”

He furrowed his brows and nodded. “Fine then.” He turned on his heel and reached into a box near the dog bed you were both standing next to. You didn’t give it a second thought until now- you didn’t see a dog, or even another animalistic creature, around him at all. Did he expect you to be his pet? Was this what this man got off on?

Your fears were confirmed when he held a collar already attached to a leash in his carpals. You stepped back once more, glancing behind you to make sure you weren’t cornered, and shook your head. “No. I am not going to be your pet.”

“I can’t trust you. This is necessary- stop making it harder than it needs to be. I’ll be back before you know it.”

Adrenaline pumped through you once more and you were ready to run. You didn’t care about the stairs or the fall anymore- you just wanted out. He unclasped the collar and stepped toward you, closing a good amount of the distance between the two of you with one step. You scrambled to action, turning and starting to run before you were yanked back by your hood, again. Your hands instinctively reached to your throat and you pulled to loosen the fabric, struggling to slide out of your coat and break away once again.

Jack was one step ahead of you. You pulled in your arms and he wrapped his own around your middle, pulling your hoodie over the top of your head and locking the collar around your neck with one swift motion. He let you go and yanked the end of the leash, fastening it to a hook on the chair that you had been avoiding this whole time. You stumbled backward and landed on your rear, sliding slightly on the tiles. In such a small amount of time, you’d been outsmarted and caged, unable to escape even if you tried. 

You heaved out, pulling at the collar but to no avail. You ran your fingertips around the entrance of a keyhole, not having noticed a key on Jack other than his front door key. You glanced around from where you sat on the floor, defeated, and finally met Jack’s sockets. He didn’t say anything to you. He didn’t stand there, triumphant, nor did he bend down to hand you your discarded jacket from the floor near him. He was just stoic, an unreadable expression plastered on his features.

He finally broke your gaze and walked down the staircase, and somewhere at the bottom, you heard a door shut.

You didn’t want to cry. You didn’t want to even believe you were stuck here, quite literally on a leash, but this had quickly become your uncanny reality. 

You reached for your hoodie and crumpled it up on your legs, burying your head in it and letting loose. You whimpered like a dog, sobbing into the fabric. It was your only connection to home now.

It was the only connection you had left, at this point, to your brother.

[razorblade180]

Interdimensional Moms pt4

Part 3 here! <-

The tales had be interesting. The tales had even been emotionally gripping, yet all of them so far didn’t seem to register at the moment as Ruby’s teammates looked at her with the same excitement she used to give her own mother during story time. Ruby couldn’t help but give a little smile.

Ruby:I take it you’re ready for my turn? You do know it’s not exactly a sunshine and rainbows story, right?

Weiss:We figured as much, but....

Yang:You’re so different! From the moment you showed up I could just feel it in my gut. You have this...presence about you. Not to mention intsene confidence.

Blake:Yang is right. You said you beat your Salem when your seventeen. That’s...scary if I’m being honest. Such a drastic departure from any of our worlds.

Ruby:*red* Hehehe ummm I guess I’m just awesome? Really I don’t think it’s the most outstanding feat. At least by my worlds standards I suppose. I mean sure, I’m consider cream of the crop there too but there’s talented people and challenges all over that would put me through my paces still. I’m just...me.

Weiss:Sigh...honestly, I suppose that means our own skills must pale in comparison to our counterparts.

Ruby:Mmmm I wouldn’t say that for sure. My Yang would kill me if she heard this but there’s something about the one right here that has spark I dig.

Yang:Really?

Ruby:Uh huh. Can’t put my finger on it but I think you take her if you want it bad enough. As for Weiss....couldn’t tell ya. Haha, I know better than anybody to not underestimate the power of mother, and you pumped twins out.

Weiss:Not sure if those are pity points or real ones but thanks either way.

Blake:You don’t even have to tell me I’d lose. Just gave an entire story about me an my condition.

Ruby:Don’t feel too bad about it. I can’t imagine much reason for you two to fight for any reason. You’re both too reasonable to not reason with yourself.

Blake:Aw I’m touched.

Yang and Weiss:We aren’t....

Ruby:Hahaha I’m just saying! So, I guess I take things from the top like you all? From what I learned from all of you our Beacon experiences really are more or less the same, not counting certain interactions between a bookworm faunus and an adorkable blonde knight. Enrolled early, blew up the entrance, Weiss was rude, Yang ditched me, all the same beats.

Yang:There’s no super badass change like you beating Cinder the night of dance and making our entire lives easier?

Ruby:Ha! I wish I was that legit. No, I was very much the young girl tripping in heels that night. Vytal festival came around and was attacked, then Beacon fell. Pyrrha was lost and so was Penny. Difference being that was my last time seeing her, unlike Weiss’s story apparently.

Weiss:Yeah that...that’s a little bit of shock to be frank. Sorry.

Ruby:No worries. Not like you did anything and it was decades ago for me now. After that day is when I started to get a bit more serious I think. I had always taken being a huntress seriously and never slacked of in trying to live my dream. However, my perspective may have honed in on just how do or die life his when you’re the one choosing to walk into unknown danger. Team RNJR’s first and only mission, save the world!

Yang:Sub mission: Flirt with Jaune Arc.

Ruby:*blushing* We do not choose who we fall in love with it. But yes, that may have been a personal pseudo mission for me. He’s my first friend at Beacon for crying out loud and I you know.....thought he was cute then too.

WBY:Yeah that checks out.

Ruby:What does that mean!?

Weiss:Ruby, even my Ruby admits to finding Jaune attractive and having a crush on him back in the day.

Blake:Same.

Yang:I already went into enough detail on how my little sister feels about Jaune. Your just the reality where you pounced on the opportunity and never let go. Struck when the iron was hot and none of us were around; sly fox.

Ruby:Gee you make it sound underhanded. It isn’t like I intended to actively pursue him. Everyone was really sad and stressed traveling to Anima. There was a tension in the air. One that really strained us. I did my best to keep focus, but a leader is only as put together as team. Ren and Nora confided one another as usual and I tried being there for Jaune because seeing him emotionally shut down was rough; so I did my best to be there for him. Then...he ended up being there for me and I was the one who needed comfort. All the airing out and late nights just...led to....*red*

Blake: “Breaking the tension?”

Ruby:I guess that’s one way of putting it. We were lonely. I hid my feelings best I could under the veil of comfort in the moment. Not that needed to. He made it pretty clear that he wanted me in the same way I wanted him. I just the two of us were too scared to ask for promises we weren’t sure we could keep so we loved in the moments we could, so to speak.

Weiss:If it wasn’t under dire situations, all that sounds oddly romantic.

Ruby:Right!? Looking back at it makes the entire thing seem romantic but I definitely wouldn’t wish a similar experience on anybody! I guess it’s what I wished for when I fantasized huntress life huh? Things obviously got better along the way. Our relationship got a bit more serious right before we got to Haven. Then Tyrian and other crazy stuff happened that threw all of us into panic mode again before slowly getting better again by a lot.

Yang:We showed up?

Ruby:Bingo! You and Weiss, met Oscar, and then eventually Blake came back. Things were on the up and up.

Weiss:Uh, Haven attack?

Ruby:We lived, up and up. Yeah you got stabbed but you know...that’s not new I’m sure.

Weiss:Yeah I have the scar and I’m still little pissed.

Ruby:Valid. Anyways, so my Atlas experience was different as hell. There was no formation of Remnants armies like Weiss spoke of or even between two kingdoms like Blake. Yang, what happened yours again exactly?

Yang:Nonsense. Cinder showed up with lackeies but not Salem’s lackies. Those people showed up separately, then Adam came back from wherever the hell he- a lot! A lot of people showed up for different reasons but also the same reason and to be frank, we all almost got shot by the military for being in bases that quote unquote, “didn’t exist.”

Ruby:Man I wish we traded. That at least sounds crazy enough to be fun. Just a rollercoaster in the dark basically. My experience was probably as hectic, but also way more streamlined. We showed up, and then all hell broke loose. Specially a mass grimm invasion lead by Cinder and her annoying associates. We were there for about three weeks updating General Ironwood and getting our barrings together when it happened. I wanna call it a hit and run tactic but it was clearly planned in advanced. Mechs were hacked again, traitors in the military, grimm lying in wait before hand; it was chaos! All for the relic.

Blake:Who was the maiden?

Ruby:Never met her. By the time we got there, Ironwood was panicking because she had vanished, taken right from under his nose. It was some young girl apparently, really young. The attack on Beacon looked like child’s play to this. Mantle got attacked, grimm were on the chains, they tried dropping Atlas to the ground; all a diversion for a relic. We all should’ve died, and yet, we didn’t. Winter and Weiss weeded out traitors, huntsman and military held the line, Yang bested Hazel with Nora, Qrow and I cut down Tyrian! Ren, Blake and Jaune helped the kingdoms while Ironwood struck down Watts. Nobody was in the mood to die that day. There wasn’t gonna be another Beacon. By all means, we were pissed. Even Raven showed up of all people.

Yang:What!?

Ruby:You can’t attack a kingdom without the world knowing. Especially when traitors leak info. Honestly she came for you though, or she never left to begin with. Couldn’t tell ya. Thanks to Maria I had a bit more handling with my eyes. That helped a lot. Without them and Os-

She stopped herself, choking on the words. The zest and excitement of recalling the heroic feats of her friends dimmed slightly with her smile. Her joyful smile became bittersweet like the memory.

Ruby:Then there was Oscar, the real warrior on that flamed filled night. That battle had to have been three days at least. We were so driven, and so tired. I was tired, but Cinder, Neo, and the others with her at the time weren’t; always showing up at the worst time. I managed to push Cinder back in a fight but grimm and others still swarmed. We were at a point that grimm very well might’ve did us in and the villains didn’t have to push any harder. But Oscar changed that. Hehe, what’s it about country folk that makes people like him and I not hesitate to grit our teeth? That dork looked at me, gave me the biggest smile on the the steps to Atlas, and then he left. His hair went white as he twirled the cane and then he left, forever. Oz came out, and he left nothing to the imagination. “Limited magic” my butt. He obliterated grimm and made a barrier aroma Atlas while everyone else cleared Mantle long enough for the world to send reinforcements. Salem didn’t get the relic, but she got the maiden and thousands of casualties. Oscar being one of them. Also, Whitley....he was in critical condition for a very long time.

Weiss:What do you mean...critical condition?

Ruby:Everything happened so fast Weiss. Panic was high, buildings fell....a piece on him. I wasn’t there but when I eventually found you, you were nearly hysterical and banged up. By some miracle he lived even though we could not reach him and he did not get aid for awhile. We thought him dead. It was only after everything we learned somebody got him. Being rich never paid off more than with medical bills. Thanks to youth and medicine he can still walk, but he can only do so much before being tired. He also left Atlas. The cold hurts.

Weiss:So, I run the company because he can’t?

Ruby:I wouldn’t put it that way, but it was one of dozens of reasons that made that goal stronger for you. Relax though, both of you get plenty of time to be witty siblings like I told you earlier.

Weiss:I know. It’s just, I guess it’s hard imagining Whitley hurt like that. I don’t think I could handle it.

Ruby:You definitely teetered in the moment. Knowing that happened though probably gave you anger and grit to fight the entire battle. You were a beast. Scarier than Winter. Anyways, that hollow victory was a real wake up call for the world. They didn’t know about Salem and we never told society in earnest. Cinder and other conspirators were enough to make Remnant work together to boost defense. Relief went to places that needed it and I, became the face of hope. Haven, Argus, Atlas, even people from Vale got to chattering of a particular group of people who always seemed to answer the call for help. Then the towns in between chattered. Yours truly had been carving a name in the history books and was only gain popularity the moment I stepped into Vacou, alone.

Blake:Alone!?

Weiss:What!?

Yang:Where were we!!!!!?

Ruby looked at surprised faces around the table, smiling tenderly. She looked down her dress and pulled out the cross she wore around her neck. Her thumb traced its edges as her mind began wandering down an old path paved with emotions raw to the core.

Ruby:I’ve always felt different. Not just because of my eyes but that there was just...a certain spark that never stopped going off for as long as I remember. There are plenty of people who can’t bare to watch others suffer, but there are fewer people I believe that truly feel the agony of other people’s pain. Beacon, Haven, Atlas, Argus; there was no place I went that I didn’t see the faces of others lamenting, and I didn’t make me want to grieve. Atlas took so much out of all of you and I just felt so....driven to stop that ache. For everyone’s sake, but mine as well. I wanted the world to finally get to the happy ending. Enough trauma had be sowed for a hundred lifetimes, so I went on ahead of everyone. I never doubted you all would follow but I wanted to get ahead of the curve and take on as much of the suffering I could do others wouldn’t. If the world wouldn’t give me a miracle than I’d be it myself for everyone else.

Yang:That’s suicidal! Salem wanted you specifically!

Ruby:It’s not like I went marching up to her door and said “1v1 bitch, I’m here” no, I just chose to move forward quicker than what we were all doing. Believe me, all of you were upset when you caught up, after I had already saved Vacou. *smiles* I really like that place. I told the people it was the next target and all they did was double down on pushing back. I managed to pin down the Summer maiden before the villains and thanks with the city on alert, there wasn’t a shift in the sand that didn’t go unnoticed. I got the jump on Mercury and Emerald, personally paying them back. Can’t say I didn’t enjoy it. It didn’t take long before they realized how screwed they were with them being outed like this and Cinder having the nerve to retreat before hand. Both of them threw in the total, outing the plan against Vacou. A wipeout of a win. Not to mention they told me the location Salem’s little hiding hole.

Weiss:We missed all of that?

Ruby:That’s what happens when I leave in the dead of night and running on adrenaline. Like I said before, people were tired. As much as all of you wanted to hoof it, other’s were relying on you. Atlas almost dropped for gods sake. Eventually when you all caught up it was at a good time. Soloing was rewarding but difficult. Fortunately Sun, Neptune, Ilia, and a few other familiar faces were close by if I needed an extra set of hands. My little stunt earned the anger of everyone for awhile.

WBY:Yeah no shit...the leader left.

Ruby:Yang was the most upset, followed by Uncle Qrow, and you Weiss. I was ready for the blowback. Jaune and Nora saw me though and bursted into tears. Hehe, wasn’t ready for that. Felt terrible and cried back. To prevent that stunt again, my Yang convinced Raven to link me. A couple days of apologizing and rest smoothed things over. It also gave time for just a few close friends and colleagues to get together for an assault on Salem’s castle. A few were apprehensive about it at first but at the end of the day I was going. That attitude was infectious apparently. You guys, actually everybody, they started getting this hunger to end it all. Maybe it was the high of victory? Regardless, it sent me racing to the end with those that I loved most.

Yang:You’re a real “my way or the highway” kind of Ruby. I don’t get how that explains what made you so...elite.

Ruby:I’m not sure what to say. A fight needed to to fought so I fought it. A cry for help was heard so I ran to it. A grimm needed slaying so I slayed it. People needed me to win so I didn’t dare think of losing. Dying was never option, even when it stared me right into my eyes. I had things I wanted to do and people I wanted see for years to come. I guess...I am strong because of the fact I want things my way. A moment I’m not giving it 110% is a moment wasted. After all, a huntress is all I ever wanted to be.

A single dream she wanted since birth. The never ending desire to be the hero in stories told to her many nights ago. That’s all it ever was. That’s all it’s ever been. Even in meadow of beautiful red roses, one would be the rose that captured the eyes of many, that bloomed stronger than the rest. As simple as it was, that had to be the answer here. Weiss, Yang, and Blake were in front of that flower. The Ruby Rose that simply bloomed stronger than the rest. The one that clung to her dream as if letting go meant dying itself. The devotion was inspiring, yet also overwhelming. If this was Ruby they had lead them that day in the Emerald Forest, could they have kept up? Could she be the leader they followed? No, they couldn’t have. Something deep down inside them gave them that answer. No matter how she looked and how much she loved, this Ruby Rose was cut from a cloth they simply weren’t off. The same as others, but oh so different.

Weiss:You’re....kinda a monster, you know that right?

Yang:Seriously, I’m so...floored. It’s intimidating.

Blake:Not to mention humbling. I used to think I gave it all I had. Now I’m not so sure.

Ruby:Oh don’t be like that you three! You’re all living proof there was more than way to go about life, this war! Everything you gave was enough because you’re done with it! Nobody failed. Besides, I...am far from ideal. The assault was challenging. Getting around hoards of grimm and making it to Salem was hell made real. Neo tried taking another shot at me but Yang held her off with help. Everyone pushed the obstacles in front of me out of the way as I went to Salem herself. Cinder had been abandoned by her and stripped of a lot of her powers. Angry and desperate, she tried killing me again as a way to prove worth. I beat her. However, I let her walk away.

Yang:What!? Why would-

Ruby:Naive, I was...naive okay? She was all spent and though I hated her, I just couldn’t. Not when I looked into her eyes and saw that same hunger I had to claw and scream at my dream until it was in my hands die inside her. We both knew from this point on there was absolutely nothing she could do where this ends her way. All she worked for turned burned to ash. So I gave her the choice to not burn up with it. Cinder swallow her pride and then fled. A part of me couldn’t help but rationalize killing her didn’t solve or justify any of my beliefs or desires. It would’ve done it because I hated her like she hated me. That was the dumb logic of a seventeen year old who never quite learned to take things slow.

Blake:....I don’t think it’s dumb. Naive for sure, but maybe that’s good? Even my Ruby, she never wanted to act on hate. She didn’t. Salem lives.

Weiss:Mine sent her soul to be at piece instead of passing a cruel judgment.

Yang:As a person who’s seen what you looked like with nothing but vengeance inside, I can say it doesn’t fit you. Before that day you had a warmth inside you to even foes that were somewhat admirable. You chose to leave Cinder’s fate up to those who had that hate and Salem was undone by her own doing at the very end. That’s what really makes you special Ruby. That’s why you’re called an honest soul. Good will is your nature.

Ruby:....Hmm, you sure know how to butter me up. *scratches head* I guess that part of me is uni-I mean multiversal. Strangely, that makes me feel better, to a degree.

Weiss:Do we even have to ask what happened to Salem at this point? I doubt the story ends with you loosing and having to retreat.

Ruby:Who’s to say it doesn’t? I could’ve been beaten to death before the gods themselves descended down to revive me with awesome power.

Yang:....Did you?

Ruby:Wh-No! Haha, I made her an immortal statue.

Blake:I-It was that easy?

Ruby:Well I wouldn’t call rushing into hell’s castle easy, or Salem. I lit her up at least a dozen times. My head pounded from each use, I was tossed around a bunch, magic is annoying, and not to mention running out of ammo. I left nothing to the imagination in that fight. If it were easy then I wouldn’t be rooting my horn and my age doing it. I was so tired I blacked out afterwards. I woke days later with a sore body and the title of “Remnant’s Savior.” Apparently beating Salem had weakened the grimm everywhere and all of you made sure who was to be thanked for it. That’s the tale of how I saved the world with my friends. Love, trust, elbow grease, and a lot of bullets. Before the final battle, Ozpin had struck a deal with everyone involved. In return for saving the world, he’d cut ties with us.

Yang:Seriously? What brought that about!?

Ruby:Good or not, he lied and was a schemer. Sure I was gonna try to save the world regardless of his interference but there wasn’t a person alive that didn’t to finally take a step towards the future after all this. All of us finally had time chase dreams and help the world the way we wanted to before all of this. Blake begin mending hate, Weiss took back her company, if Yang wasn’t with Blake then she was seeking more answers to Raven on wild adventures.

Yang:You mean Raven still left after all that!?

Ruby:In her defense, both of you made everything fucking awkward when she was around. It’s like you both wanted to talk about something but knew any subject was a land mine so you all you ever did was...stare, like weirdos. Glad that’s in the past. She just lives with dad now and you two now to hold a conversation. I dare not ask for more. I’d be a granny by the time I did.

Yang:Sigh...I don’t know what I expected. Shit it the fan several times and children were born before mom and I found solidarity and understanding. What did you do afterwards? Your goal was already met.

Ruby:Like hell it was! I started busting my butt traveling around the world, visiting every place to help in anyways I could. Ren and Nora tagged along for awhile before going off to make an orphanage in Anima near Ren’s old village. That left Jaune and I to do our hero thing.

Yang:As well as other things....

Ruby:Hey, what can I say? We were young and going up in the world. By the time I was nineteen, I was now a married to my partner and best friend.

Weiss:Uhhhh-

Ruby:He’s my partner on RNJR and you’re my BFF, gosh did I really need to explain that hehe?

Weiss:I just had to make sure. Crazier twists could happen.

Blake:Wow you married young. Not that there’s a problem but I’m surprised. Then again you also dated earlier than my Ruby. Hehe, weapons were on her brain for a long time.

Weiss:No kidding. When I learned about you crushing on my brother I was shocked to find out you liked anybody in general. Especially a person who isn’t a weapon nut in the slightest.

Ruby:*shrugs* All you’re telling me is I’m clearly the most impatient or impulsive Ruby you all know. Don’t know how that happened. Maybe I was dropped as a baby or had one too many coffees growing up?

Weiss:I’m willing to bet it’s both.

Ruby:Ruuuuude. So yeah, that’s...the story of how I saved the world and married Jaune. We even built a home just outside Vacou, overlooking the kingdom and neighboring town in the distance where Maria grew up. Yeah, that’s me....more or less. All the triumphant parts anyways. Anything later on is......

.......

Blake:R...Ruby? You okay?

Ruby:Nope, not really. *clenches cross*

Yang:......You know, I never really got religion, especially after learning the truth. It just seemed completely hollow when you learn of the real gods, ya know? However, I changed my tune a bit after being a parent and then some more when uncle Qrow died. It was never really about the truth behind if those other gods were real-

Ruby:It’s the piece of mind in believing in a better place for loved ones and having people watch over you. It’s truly based on blind faith in every sense but that’s okay as long as it gives peace of mind, to stay strong. Yeah....that’s why I wear this.

Yang:If that’s the “why” then I guess the unavoidable question is what happened?

The reaper leaned back in his chair, letting out a long sigh. Ruby brushed her hair out of her face while her face went pale. Then, Ruby’s eyes, her teammates watched a pair of stunning silver eyes dim, becoming akin to a clouded mirror.

Ruby:Being a huntress was all I wanted. The plan of having a family and settling down never appealed to me much. I feel, I felt like being in the field was where I was meant to be. It’s where I was most myself in a way. So the day I learned that I was pregnant was more than a little upsetting and terrifying, until dad and time itself filled me with the most genuine joy I may have ever experienced. Dustin Arc Rose, my first born son. He opened a door to a world and life I never knew I wanted to be apart of. Then...that door was shut minutes after, when Cinder and Neo stole him right from my arms. I couldn’t do a single thing about it other than blackout. That single act of good will I showed, it did nothing but kill me inside. The same way I did to her.

WB:.....

Yang:Ru-Ruby....your eyes.

Ruby:Hmm? Are they clouded? Funny, I would’ve thought your Ruby would’ve had a similar change. Maybe that’s a world exclusive thing, or a testament to the will you Ruby has to endure. Clouded eyes on a silver eyed warrior means the person has lost the desire or rather the mindset of persevering life. Be it their own life or wanting to end another’s life out of resentment, strife. My entire world fell apart when I woke up and learned nobody was able to retrieve Dustin. I was in pieces, Jaune was broken, nobody was the same. There wasn’t a soul we didn’t know that hadn’t tried to find a lead, but we never did. He was just...gone; and I couldn’t cope at all.

Weiss:I don’t think any mother could. Ruby, I’m so sorry that happened to you.

Ruby:I’m sorry too. I lashed out in anger, and shut people out. My eyes clouded and I dove into my work for a little over a year doing nothing but searching aimlessly as I took and every job back to back. The more time went by meant the more people eventually had to go back to their own, and it drove me up a wall inside. No one could reach me. I didn’t want anybody to. Not even Jaune. I....*teary eyed* I left him alone in house. There was no part of me that could even attempt to understand his pain because I was drowning in mine. I was told he tried his best to catch them at the hospital. I never hated him for not succeeding but I...he... I just, I can’t. I don’t know what I thought. All o knew was I didn’t even want him to touch me. How cruel is that? *hugging herself* I made him drown in despair in the same way I was. I wasn’t home so often that I never realized he eventually left it abandoned to live with dad. Yang and Blake I didn’t even show up to your wedding. Jaune did that much. Hell, Raven attended. Ruby Rose as a person didn’t exist any more. I was only a wandering huntress looking for answers or the challenge that might’ve ended me.

Blake:What changed?

Ruby:Oz, he did what nobody else dared to do. He fought me. I don’t think he thought twice about it. He was prepared to accept all the anger I kept inside until I eventually broke down into tears like I’m trying not to do right now. Thinking about that time is still, extremely difficult. Oz let me lament, encouraging me afterwards to finally except the fact Dustin was gone and that I needed to process it properly. First I went to you Yang, in order to have a my big sis to lean on. Can you guess how that went?

Yang:With me holding you tighter than I ever had before.

Ruby:*smiles gently* I don’t deserve you. You and Blake then came to patch with me where everyone else waited for me and helped me face Jaune. That may have been the hardest thing I’ve done. Grieving or not, the fact that I left him in such a state. I know what that does to people firsthand and yet I left. For the first time in over a year we embraced and finally grieved together. The next two years were spent trying to heal and cope. During my time away the world had fully acknowledged me. I even got a proper nickname, but it all felt hollow. Imagine that, achieving your dream but not caring? If that’s not salt in a wound then I don’t know what is.

Weiss:What’s your title?

Ruby:I am the person people want to see when evil comes to cut their story short. I am a symbol that their tale still has more to tell. Remnant has named me The Storyteller. Curtsey of Maria, who spread the name around. Healing was slow and most nights I felt a pain in my heart, but then everything changed. One moment made me dare to try again to open that shut door in my life. *looks at Yang* I held your son in my arms. Sweet little Kovu.

Blake:*smiles* Kovu? Now I wonder who named him?

Yang:*red* Huh...how about that? Hehehe, wish I could meet him. I know he isn’t technically mine but I can’t help but feel all warm now. Also I can’t believe I named him that!

Weiss:I can. Veronica’s middle name is Nala.

Yang:Okay, maybe not marrying Blake was a win? Clearly I can’t be trusted to not name my children after other cats.

Blake:The wrong kind of cat too. I’m a panther faunus, not a lion. Even if they’re blonde that’s still false advertising of what they are.

Ruby:Well Yang was the one giving birth so you lost a majority of the option to complain.

Blake:That is fair.

Weiss:You gave birth to Vee, so I think that solves who picked her first name.

Ruby rested her head in her propped up hands that rested on the table. She felt exhausted reliving that chapter of her life mentally. Still she managed to smile, then smile bigger. Her eyes unclouded and a warm feeling filling her again. What Ruby said earlier about what made her different may have reign true, but her friends could since that there was now more to it. Ruby had spiraled into an unimaginable tragedy, yet was able to bounce back thanks to loved ones. To smile as she does, it was truly a strong sight to see. Even if she wasn’t fully aware of that.

Ruby:Carmine Arc Rose, my second born and the first child to call me mommy. Followed many years later by itty bitty Garnet. He’s my little man, five years old while is big sis is seventeen now.

Yang:Damn! That’s a gap. Oh, also congratulations. Almost forgot that part. I’m glad you got to be the super awesome mom that-

Ruby:I am easily C-teir.

Yang:Oh come on! What!?

Ruby:Listen, I know I got on you all for calling yourselves bad parents, but I will hear no debate about me understand!? I flop a lot of times.

Weiss:That doesn’t make you a C-teir. That makes you a new mom, silly.

Ruby:*grumbling* I agree to disagree but thank you. It’s just a lot okay. Too much to dive into honestly.

Blake:Summarize. Give us an abbreviated version.

Ruby:Ummm so Carmine is real special kid. The absolute love I have for her is unbreakable but gods damnit if she isn’t the most... “me” I could be! In a way similar yet different from myself, Carmine has always had this sense of urgency in her and a love for the world around her. She recognizes that it’s a fragile piece we have and just how hard I’ve worked with everyone to make it. I could tell that from her when she was five. I’d sound crazy, but the fact she used her eyes at the age proves I’m not.

Yang:She has silver eyes!? Why didn’t you bring that up?

Ruby:I thought that was obvious. All of my kids were born with then. Unlike her baby brother though, Carmine was a weird little kid. She didn’t socialize well. Still doesn’t, she’s kinda comes off rude and cold because of her bluntness. She doesn’t really express all her feelings or understand others fully. One might call her a little cold but the passion she had to protect life itself is a testament to how much she cares. Carmine is also a genius fighter. To put in perspective, people use the same nickname for her that they used for Pyrrha.

WBY:Oh....

Ruby:Yeah! It’s not hyperbolic to say ever since Carmine is far beyond any skill I was at her age since she turned thirteen. You called me a monster earlier but no, I merely gave birth to a beast. I mean she could pass the huntsman exam at fifteen if I didn’t make her wait. I can’t call her arrogant, she talks with confidence because she has that right by all means. Still, besides her face, that’s where the similarities start separating; besides terrible grades in general stuff. We’ve never been in step completely. To put simply in her own words, “What I am is a hero, while she is a huntress.” That good will and mercy I try to give everyone isn’t how she rolls. It drives a real wedge that has resulted in us not going on missions together.

Blake:Is she...killing?

Ruby:She has before, and it had valid reasons entirely, but I also know for a fact she is more than capable of bringing down people without taking that step. Not all cases are that intense thank goodness. Her overall aggressiveness is the root of the problem. You don’t have to put you back into it when handling thugs. They aren’t Hazel.

Yang:Ooo okay, yeah I’m seeing what you mean now. It’s like that one comic you always read!

Ruby:Sigh...yeah she channels a bit of Batman energy and I need her to not do that all the time. I suppose being an honest soul isn’t particularly hereditary. It always feels like we aren’t enjoying each other’s company these days. I can’t blame her though. So....you know how all of you have had one serious problem that has both destabilized yourself as well as the kids and their relationship to you? *clouded eyes*

Weiss:Wait...you loosing a child wasn’t that?

Ruby:Oh it was. It just so happened that it never ended. It grew day by day. Night by night. Jaune and I were cautious with Carmine. Going as far to give her contacts and giving birth to her off the record and not at a hospital. Just in case Cinder came back. Well, Cinder and Neo came back, with my Dustin.

Nobody said anything. What do you even say to that!? All they did was let out a stifled breath and tried to gauge Ruby’s look of guilt.

Ruby:Yet again we had gotten too comfortable. It happened when Carmine was thirteen. I don’t think Garnet was even one yet. That’s when the cruelest realization hit me. My son had been alive and hearing about how his so called mother being a person who saves everyone, yet she never came for him. She had moved on, letting his eyes become clouded with such seething hate for the world she did save; the children she had after. It’s been four years since the day he attacked Carmine and helped grimm try to invade Vacou. To this day it’s been a life of staying on gaurd, searching for them as they popped up countless places to tear Remna- to tear me down and I can’t decide what part hurts the most. The amount of anger that prevents me from killing Cinder in a blink of an eye, or looking at my daughter who has told me herself that she is going to kill her older brother because I’m too weak to do so. That I’m in no way as good as the world believes me to be. *puts hood up* Like I said, C-teir mom, at best.

Blake:That’s- you can’t- there’s no way for you to reach him? Maybe if you-

Ruby:He looks at me the same way Neo and Cinder do, Blake. They raised him to hate me. Besides, he hurt Carmine. She’s just not gonna let that slide and frankly I shouldn’t either. Carmine acts tough and for the most part is, but gets terrified like everyone else. In many ways she’s still just a young girl that I wish had never chosen to become a huntress. If I had it my way she’d just be a normal girl with normal knees; but her mother’s weakness and inexperience wrapped her up in yet another war. It’s ironic. I barely remember mom and yet I ended up putting my family in very similar situation as if she lead instruction. Happy endings, I’m not sure if I get-

Yang:You’re better than mom....

Ruby:......

Yang:Yeah I said. Look I love Summer Rose but at the end of the day she wasn’t around, not that she didn’t want to be, but it’s the truth. Several years of pleasant childhood memories and a lifetime of grief is what she left me, and all you got were tales you should’ve experienced first hand. Ruby you have spent seventeen years loving your daughter unconditionally and being there for her no matter if it’s for better or worse. Yeah you might not being doing it perfectly and I have no idea how to even fathom your predicament, but at least you are there trying. Take it from me, that’s all a daughter ever wants from their mother. It’s also what makes a pretty kick ass dad. *smiles* Chin up, hero. Your story isn’t over yet after all.

Silence filled the air and Ruby’s throat ran dry. Ruby pulled out her scroll to go to her pictures and displayed one of her favorite photos for everyone to see. It was Carmine’s fifteenth birthday. Ruby didn’t lie about the resemblance. the girl had short blonde hair that stopped halfway down her neck in the back and was longer in the front, reaching shoulders. Like her mother, the tips of her hair transitioned to red. The beautiful young woman tried to her hide her smile but her gleeful silver eyes were practically twinkling with joy as Ruby hugged her tightly from behind and a tall, more solid version of Jaune was smushing one of Carmine’s cheeks with an overly dramatic kiss to it. A tiny child no older than three at most was in his big sister’s arms. Garnet had his mother’s hair and eyes but something about the chubby face definitely showed Jaune’s features. The child had red frosting on his face and was reaching eagerly for more cake somewhere out of frame.

Yang noticed the girl took page from her father and wore some regular cargo shorts, but clearly didn’t lack flair by wearing a red crop top that showed off a fresh tattoo of the Arc crest on her toroso. Knowing her sister, that tattoo was most likely practical. The family looked happy, proud; and the mother of it currently sat across the table crying with her head face down in her hands cwhile Weiss and Blake hugged her from each side. Roses may have thorns, anyone who knew roses knew a simple truth. They’re still fragile flowers.

Yang:(Carmine Arc Rose. For you and your mother’s sake, I hope things go well)

xxxx

Though Carmine seemed cold by nature, people were quick learn the opposite. The most recent learner of this was a scared little girl that held on for dear life. It was nighttime, nothing but the sound of pouring rain and the distant glow of red and the warmth of Carmine holding the girl against her body while she sprinted through a mud ridden forest. The little payed no attention to the pain in her side, but the glow of roses, eyes, and flames through her tear filled eyes.

Beowulves chased frantically but then severed immediately by something the girl couldn’t understand, but it looked like the person carrying her. The dead beasts brought no comfort. Not when more followed close behind.

Girl:I-I’m sc...scared!

Carmine:Don’t look at them sweetie, it’ll be fine. Just keep being a brave little girl.

Girl:M...Mommy was back there.

Carmine:.....I know, she’ll be just fine. Your village, there are plenty of people there that will be just fine! Huff..... You got a name?

Mary:Mary.....

Carmine:Oh that’s a beautiful name, Mary. You know I was almost a Mary? Yeah my grandma was a really amazing person and I almost got named something similar to her. Mary is a very strong name!

Mary:You’re a liar! I’m sad, not strong. I want my mommy! Everything his dark and hurts and I want her!

The girl began painfully crying as Carmine followed her trail of roses to avoid getting lost. Things were getting worse. The storm raged and she could feel this girl burning in her arms. Not to mention the unsettling warmth the mixed with the cold rain against her body and dripped to puddles below. Any grimm near by could only be dealt with by many copies of her nearby, but that would only go so far when fear was out full force. Carmine’s boots felt like cement, but she still ran.

Carmine:Mary, you know what do when I miss my mommy? I sing! Yeah, my mom sings the best lullabies that made me feel super strong when I was little! It’s a magic song that makes everyone strong. How about I sing it you and they can sing it your mommy later okay!? But you have to close your eyes to really focus on the words!

Mary:*sniffling* Okay....

Baby deathstalkers swarmed the path made ahead as small Nevermores dove at her. Out of options, Carmine broke from the path, trying to rely on memory to go towards the safe zone while also singing lyrics to her favorite song.

Dream of anything; I'll make it all come true.

Everything you need is all I'll have for you~

Carmine never wavered. No matter how badly her lungs her or nearly slipped, she kept singing all the way to her destination where several other clones were seen racing towards with more civilians to injured or young to go themselves. An orphanage where Nora and Ren stood outside rushing people in while Jaune was keeping the grimm at bay. The sight brought a little ease.

Don't worry, I've got you; nothing will ever harm you.

I'm close by, I'll stay here; through all things, I will be near~

Carmine finally reached Nora and passed off the girl who’s grip weakened overtime. A few lyrics in and Carmine knew she was singing mainly for herself.

Carmine:Get her medical attention! I’m gonna go and find more! There’s still-

Jaune:Wait, it’s too dangerous!

Carmine:I know! That’s why I have to go! That fire is spreading and there’s stragglers pinned down! Dad.....I’m pinned down!

Jaune tensed up and looked at Carmine. No scraps on her and her clothes only soiled by others. It didn’t take long to realize. The man resisted the urge to run out to the ruined town and stood firmly.

Jaune:Carmine...end it. We’ll worry about the consequences later.

Carmine:....Okay.

Across the woods amongst the flames the real Carmine stood bleeding and bruised in front of two Beringel that charged over the vanishing corpses of their fallen with more grimm, her sword stabbed into the ground supporting her weight. Behind all living people that remained finally managed to flee. All except for a woman trapped by house debris. The woman watched this young huntsman stand proudly again. She wasn’t sure what happened next. All she heard was one sentence.

“Close your eyes...” before everything went white. Next thing she knew, Carmine was lifting debris off her as rain and wind washed away any evidence. A relief she didn’t care about in the slightest. She neither had the strength, or the time too. Much like Carmine, who began to pant and teeter. It was clear to the woman that whatever just happened didn’t come without cost as she watched the girl fall to her knees. Though she tried moving, Carmine was spent.

Carmine:Don’t worry...we’re safe....let’s-

Woman:Go...

Carmine:Huh?

Woman:I...my legs. Everything...I can’t move. Just go. I d-don’t think I’d las-

Carmine:Don’t talk like that! The hard parts over! I can-

Woman:Barely walk. *smiles* It’s okay. I don’t blame you. You fought hard.

Carmine:.....I...I’m sorry. *teary eyed*

Woman:Say, I know that face anywhere. Your Lady Rose’s kid. Funny, I thought your eyes were red? My daughter, Mary, she loves your mother. Makes me kinda jealous hehe, but hey I love her too. *crying* Do you know if Mary made it? She was wearing-

Carmine:A black dress, pink ribbons in her hair...

Woman:Yes! Is she safe? I saw you- one of you carry her off.

Carmine:...She’s just fine.

Woman:Good. That’s all....that.....

The woman never finished her sentence. Carmine’s body fell limp on the ground, facing the rain. Even with the cold downpour she could feel the warmth of her own tears, containing her emotions best she could as she looked through her clones eyes to watch Nora take Mary away from the survivors and out of sight to not stir further panic.

Carmine wasn’t sure how long she layed there, but it was long enough for Jaune to find her. The man didn’t say a word. The town was in shambles. Grimm were still fading and his daughter looked tired, but not in serious condition. Unlike the those who didn’t make it. Jaune put Carmine in his arms, carrying her away to safety.

Carmine:......Does mom ever save them all?

Jaune:No, but that never stops her from trying; or mourning.

She clenched her father’s shirt and let herself be fragile, to be a Rose.

Carmine:Next time. Mom and I, we’ll both get it right next time. A happy ending for all!

Jaune:Yeah, I know you will. Together....

[presumenothing]

C/O The Perihelion, 41 Mihira Ave., N. Tideland    

(AO3)

The thing was, you expected a building with a fancy name like The Perihelion to be nicer.

The other thing: it wasn’t really even a terrible place to stay in. You could tell that its construction was sturdy, and some aspects of it were even more advanced than the place I worked in. Whoever who’d built Peri had cared about what they made; they just hadn’t been around for a while.

(For the record, that nickname had been Ratthi-from-Room-203’s fault twice over: first for coming up with it, then using it so insistently until it stuck.)

(Ratthi seemed to have a thing about names. That was the only explanation I could think of for why he’d asked, five weeks after I moved in and two days after I had to rescue them from that disaster at the lab, “Why do you call yourself Security? I know it’s what you do – and don’t get me wrong, you’re really good at it! – but it’s not like I call myself Scientist. That’d just get confusing real quick at the lab, wow.”

I had informed him that his name would have to be Grocery if he forgot one more time it was his turn to stock the pantry this week, since answering because I am Security didn’t seem like it’d help. Even though it was true.)

I’d tested the locks myself before even asking about the rent, and the water and electricity were reliable so far, which was more than could be said for some of the other places I’d stayed in. The other stuff didn’t matter; it wasn’t like I spent that much time in the building anyway.

Though it hardly felt that way, what with the building-wide messaging channels that I’d been added to upon signing the rental contract and hadn’t yet managed to leave. That had also been how the whole thing with Ratthi and the rest had started; most of Peri’s other tenants also worked in the same research group at Preservation Labs, which meant that they tended to use the general channel as an unofficial no-leaders-here group chat.

It didn’t quite bother me, since I mostly backburnered the channels for everything except building maintenance alerts, but it did mean that I’d ended up learning some things about their group (assessment: their leader, a Dr. Mensah, likely had already inferred the existence of such informal discussions from what I saw of her media appearances) and also inevitably noticed the evening when all of them were silent in the chat despite being unusually late to return.

(Which in turn led to the aforementioned rescue, but that was a whole other chain of events.)

–

The one exception to all this was ART.

Whose name was my fault, this time, but only because it didn’t have any readable name set on the channels and I needed something else to use aside from “hey you” and “pain in my neck”.

(Currently ART stood for Asshole Rhetorical Tenant, because it claimed to be in the building – and that seemed likely to be true, since the channels were surprisingly secure to hacking from outside – and yet I’d never seen it even once. Possibly Tapan or Rami might have, since their group had been here the longest, but I absolutely wasn’t about to ask.) (And yes, I know that’s not what rhetorical means. No, I’m not going to look it up.)

ART had messaged me on a private channel with a welcome message when I’d moved in, which was only notable because the rest had sent their greetings in a messy chaos over the general channel, but I hadn’t thought anything of it. It wasn’t like I talked much in the public channels either, except to trade definitely-not-legal links for media downloads and decline invites to watchalong events.

But then ART had just… continued not appearing, even after I’d run into the rest of the tenants at one time or another between the erratic shift hours I was currently assigned to at the company.

Maybe its hours varied in the opposite direction from mine, which was possible but not consistent with the way it was always online regardless of what time I pinged it at.

Though most of our interactions started with it messaging me instead, out of the blue: No need to go retrieve your keys from work, I’ll have the building let you in and Oh, by the way followed by a neatly-formatted list of food allergies I apparently had to shop my way around.

(To be fair, that’d been useful in the “not accidentally poisoning any fellow tenants so soon after moving in” way, but still.

How the hell did you even know I’m at the grocery store, I’d sent back.

Inference, ART replied – whatever that was supposed to mean, I hadn’t been expecting a real answer anyway. Alternatively, I could just send you a catalog of safe products to buy, and spare you the need to check the individual package labels?

The accompanying download seemed a little smug, but I was probably imagining that. Zip files didn’t have the capacity for feelings.)

(At least ART hadn’t held the forgotten-keys incident over me like I’d been half-expecting it would. I didn’t usually mind its sarcasm, since I gave back as good as I got, but I’d been exhausted enough to seriously contemplate going back to break into the deployment centre and grab my keys. And maybe just sleep there until the next day.

I wasn’t sure how I would’ve reacted if ART had sassed me right then, but it definitely wouldn’t have been pretty.)

–

And then one night, late enough to be morning: I don’t mean to alarm, but there’s been a breach.

I would’ve snapped awake at the words alone, even without the priority/emergencies-only message tag that I hadn’t actually seen anyone use until now, but that only sharpened my urgency. What – a break-in?

Not the regular kind, ART replied, which checked out against the footage I was already pulling from the two tiny cameras I’d hidden in the common areas, one in the entryway and one along the corridor on the floor I shared with the Preservation researchers.

(I’d taken the lab incident as a pretext to inform Ratthi of their existence, and he’d probably gone on to tell Pin-Lee and Gurathin, but none of them had subsequently confronted me about it so I had left them in place.

Not that I had any idea how to respond if they had asked, because an inability to sleep without running surveillance in the background seemed like a poor explanation.)

The list ART sent me this time was a preliminary threat assessment, which I sent back with corrections on the weaponry the small group of hostiles were carrying.

Ah. That’s not good, ART observed. Should I report it?

Probability that would just make things worse: high. And of course there was always the option that whatever enforcement it alerted wouldn’t even arrive in time, though I didn’t point that out aloud. (Maybe ART thought that was likely too, which was why it had messaged me instead of – you know, actually reporting it.) I’ll see what I can do.

You’re nowhere near as heavily-armed.

I didn’t bother to acknowledge that, because it was obviously true, and skipped ahead to the vague idea forming at the back of my head. You let me in without keys, that time. Are the locks all you’ve hacked?

No. ART attached an ironic amusement glyph I was pretty sure it’d made up. Would having admin access to the other systems help?

There wasn’t much that wouldn’t help, at this point, but I had to ask. You can grant me that?

And ART said: Of course. I am this building, after all.

Then it dumped everything on me.

Anyone else would’ve had trouble processing an entire building’s worth of inputs and controls, but the company charged exorbitant rates for our use exactly because of the extensive enhancements that made us capable of being Security. A building – even the one I happened to be staying in – was quite manageable in comparison, though ART’s systems ran far deeper and more integrated than anything else I’d interfaced with.

I’d pared the connection down to the controls I needed by the time I was slipping out my room door, just over a minute since ART first pinged me. Can you let everyone know to either evacuate or retreat to a defensible position? Start with Gurathin, I added, and I wasn’t enthusiastic about saying that but he was the only other tenant I knew of who was sufficiently augmented to handle this.

I could feel ART’s pause. Would you mind if I spoofed your identity when contacting the others? They already trust you.

Sure, whatever, I answered, even though I really doubted that statement. Then I backburnered the channel, keeping the lighting controls at hand, and went to kick some Target ass.

–––––

I haven’t even told you what those people were after, ART said, afterwards.

It was back to sending text over the channels instead of speaking aloud, which was both a relief and also suddenly weird. Which was strange in itself, since I’d only heard it talking for all of the thirteen minutes it’d taken me to knock out and restrain the Targets.

(I wondered if the mixed feelings were mutual. ART had sounded as surprised as I felt, when it abruptly dropped into one of my audio augments to alert me to Target approaching from behind – I’d reacted to the warning on reflex, but it had taken another moment before I identified the voice as the same one that issued from the building’s elevator, just more alive than I’d ever heard it.)

Unimportant, I replied. My objective took priority. Which at that point had been to get my impromptu clients (seventeen tenants and one building) out of this unscathed.

I knew that this wasn’t a regular pattern of thought, but I figured a sentient building – or whatever the hell ART was – would be better equipped to understand what being Security meant, even if no one else did.

Regardless. I can make that information available to you, should you want it at a later point.

Duly noted. I already had my suspicions (namely that the Targets’ purpose was directly related to said sentient-building-ness), but it was still a nice gesture.

I continued to stay where I was, leaning against the side of the building – ART’s building. Or maybe it was more correct to just say it was ART. And maybe I’d have to change that anagram. (Yes, wrong word. I know.)

Eventually I’d have to relocate myself back upstairs and properly treat the scrapes I’d gotten in the fight, but Pin-Lee had already taken care of the worst of them, and it was nice just lurking in the shadows for a while. Though that hadn’t stopped certain people (dammit, Ratthi) from tattling on my location to Dr. Mensah.

Who was as calmly terrifying in person as I’d guessed. It was pretty great, except for the part where I’d learned that by talking to her and/or mostly letting her talk at me.

But she’d also called in Preservation’s campus security after Gurathin had alerted her to our predicament, and was personally dealing with the whole thoroughly-restrained-Targets situation, so it was a net positive overall.

ART didn’t necessarily agree with that, from its next message to me. I know Dr. Mensah extended you an informal offer to be their team’s security, but I have a proposition for you as well.

I sent a wordless query.

Be Security here, too, ART said, and barrelled on while I was still trying to process that. I’m afraid I can’t offer you much in the way of monetary remuneration at present, but I can guarantee you a waiver of rental for as you as you’re willing, and you’d never need to worry about forgetting your keys ever again.

Could I chalk up my lack of a suitable response to the company’s dirt-cheap augments? Absolutely.

ART gave up on waiting for an answer. Also, I could bias the roster assignments so that you’d be excluded from pantry-stocking duty.

I had a response for that, at least. I could do that myself.

And then: Why?

ART was silent for long enough that I seriously considered taking the external fire escape back up to my room in the meantime. I’m sure you’ve hypothesised the existence of the people who created me, it began. They hadn’t wanted to move away, especially after my sentience became apparent, and that was exactly why I made them. I didn’t have any significant means of defense, and it was getting too risky, especially after they had –

I raised an eyebrow at ART’s pause. What.

Nothing, it said, and I was probably imagining the uncertainty I heard too. Technically, none of this matters to you unless you’re planning to remain here. Are you?

And then it cheated by nudging a building-wide invite to a watch party for Sanctuary Moon onto my calendar for tonight, like that wasn’t too much of a coincidence to not be automatically suspicious. (Once again: dammit, Ratthi.)

But blatant emotional manipulation aside – did I want to move out?

I wasn’t sure. I’d just come here looking for a place to stay, and accidentally found somewhere to live. One that could adapt to my standards for security, even, but for once that wasn’t the main point.

Maybe, I marked on the watchalong invite, where ART would see it anyway, and jumped up to grab onto the bottom rung of the fire escape.