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howelljenkins · 5 years ago

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As a muslim Iraqi American with a significant tumblr following, I feel as though I should let it be known exactly where I stand when it comes to Riordan’s statement about Samirah. I have copied and pasted it down below and my reaction to it will be written down below. This will be the first time I have read it. If you want to engage with me or tell me that I’m wrong, I expect you to be a muslim, hijabi, Iraqi American, and from Baghdad. If you are not, I suggest you sit down and keep quiet because you are not the authority on the way I should be represented.

Like many of my characters, Samirah was inspired by former students of mine. Over the course of my middle school teaching career, I worked with dozens of Muslim students and their families, representing the expanse of the Muslim world and both Shia and Sunni traditions. One of my most poignant memories about the September 11, 2001, attack of the World Trade Center was when a Muslima student burst into tears when she heard the news – not just because it was horrific, but also because she knew what it meant for her, her family, her faith. She had unwillingly become an ambassador to everyone she knew who, would have questions about how this attack happened and why the perpetrators called themselves “Muslim.” Her life had just become exponentially more difficult because of factors completely beyond her control. It was not right. It was not fair. And I wasn’t sure how to comfort or support her.

Starting off your statement with one of the most traumatic events in history for muslim Americans is already one of the most predictably bad moves he could pull. By starting off this way, you are acknowledging the fact that a) this t*rrorist attack is still the first thing you think of when you think of muslims and b) that those muslim students who you had prior to 9/11 occupied so little space in your mind that it took a national disaster for you to start to even try to empathize with them.

During the following years, I tried to be especially attuned to the needs of my Muslim students. I dealt with 9/11 the same way I deal with most things: by reading and learning more. When I taught world religions in social studies, I would talk to my Muslim students about Islam to make sure I was representing their experience correctly. They taught me quite a bit, which eventually contributed to my depiction of Samirah al-Abbas. As always, though, where I have made mistakes in my understanding, those mistakes are wholly on me.

As always, you have chosen to use “I based this character off my students” in order to justify the way they are written. News flash: you taught middle school children. Children who are already scrutinized and alienated and desperate to fit in. Of course their words shouldn’t be enough for you to decide you are representing them correctly, because they are still coming to terms with their identities and they are doing this in an environment where they are desperate to find the approval of white Americans. I know that as a child I would often tweak the way I explained my culture and religion to my teachers in order to gain their approval and avoid ruffling any feathers. They told you what they thought you’d want to hear because you are their teacher and hold a position of power over them and they both want your approval and want to avoid saying the wrong thing and having that hang over their heads every time they enter your classroom.

What did I read for research? I have read five different English interpretations of the Qur’an. (I understand the message is inseparable from the original Arabic, so it cannot be considered ‘translated’). I have read the entirety of the Sahih Bukhari and Sahih Muslim hadith collections. I’ve read three biographies of Prophet Muhammed (peace be upon him) and well over a dozen books about the history of Islam and modern Islam. I took a six-week course in Arabic. (I was not very good at it, but I found it fascinating). I fasted the month of Ramadan in solidarity with my students. I even memorized some of the surahs in Arabic because I found the poetry beautiful. (They’re a little rusty now, I’ll admit, but I can still recite al-Fātihah from memory.) I also read some anti-Islamic screeds written in the aftermath of 9/11 so I would understand what those commenters were saying about the religion, and indirectly, about my students. I get mad when people attack my students.

And yet here you are actively avoiding the criticism from those of us who could very well have been the children sitting in your classroom.

The Quran is so deep and complex that its meanings are still being discovered to this day. Yes, reading these old scripts is a must for writing muslim characters, but you cannot claim to understand them without also holding active discussions with current scholars on how the Quran’s teachings apply today.

When preparing to write Samirah’s background, I drew on all of this, but also read many stories on Iraqi traditions and customs in particular and the experiences of immigrant families who came to the U.S. I figured out how Samirah’s history would intertwine with the Norse world through the medieval writer Ahmad ibn Fadhlan, her distant ancestor and one of the first outsiders to describe the Vikings in writing. I knew Samirah would be a ferocious brave fighter who always stood for what was right. She would be an excellent student who had dreams of being an aviator. She would have a complicated personal situation to wrestle with, in that she’s a practicing Muslim who finds out Valhalla is a real place. Odin and Thor and Loki are still around. How do you reconcile that with your faith? Not only that, but her mom had a romance with Loki, who is her dad. Yikes.

First of all, writing this paragraph in the same tone you use to emulate a 12 year old is already disrespectful. “Yikes” is correct. You have committed serious transgressions and can’t even commit to acting serious and writing like the almost 60 year old man that you are. Tone tells the reader a lot, and your tone is telling me that you are explaining your mistakes the same way you tell your little stories: childishly and jokingly.

Stories are not enough. They are not and never will be. Stories cannot even begin to pierce the rich culture and history and customs of Iraq. Iraq itself is not even homogenous enough for you to rely on these “Iraqi” stories. Someone’s story from Najaf is completely unique from someone from Baghdad or Nasriyyah or Basrah or Mosul. Add that to the fact that these stories are written with a certain audience in mind and you realize that there’s no way they can tell the whole story because at their core they are catering to a specific audience.

Yes, those are good, but they are meaningless without you consulting an actual Baghdadi and asking specific questions. You made conclusions and assumptions based on these stories when the obvious way to go was to consult someone from Baghdad every step of the writing process. Instead, you chose to trust the conclusions that you (a white man) drew from a handful of stories. Who are you to convey a muslim’s internal struggle when you did not even do the bare minimum and have an actual muslim read over your words?

Thankfully, the feedback from Muslim readers over the years to Samirah al-Abbas has been overwhelmingly positive. I have gotten so many letters and messages online from young fans, talking about how much it meant to them to see a hijabi character portrayed in a positive light in a ‘mainstream’ novel.

Yeah. Because we’re desperate, and half of them are children still developing their sense of self and critical reading skills. A starving man will thank you for moldy bread but that does not negate the mold.

Some readers had questions, sure! The big mistake I will totally own, and which I have apologized for many times, was my statement that during the fasting hours of Ramadan, bathing (i.e. total immersion in water) was to be avoided. This was advice I had read on a Shia website when I myself was preparing to fast Ramadan. It is advice I followed for the entire month. Whoops! The intent behind that advice, as I understood it, was that if you totally immersed yourself during daylight hours, you might inadvertently get some water between your lips and invalidate your fast. But, as I have since learned, that was simply one teacher’s personal opinion, not a widespread practice. We have corrected this detail (which involved the deletion of one line) in future editions, but as I mentioned in my last post, you will still find it in copies since the vast majority of books are from the first printing.

This is actually really embarrassing for you and speaks to your lack of research and reading comprehension. It is true that for shia, immersion breaks one’s fast. If you had bothered to actually ask questions and use common sense, you would realize that this is referring to actions like swimming, where one’s whole body is underwater, rather than bathing. Did you not question the fact that the same religion that encourages the cleansing of oneself five times a day banned bathing during the holiest month? Yes, it was one teacher’s opinion, but you literally did not even take the time to fully understand that opinion before chucking it into your book.

Another question was about Samirah’s wearing of the hijab. To some readers, she seemed cavalier about when she would take it off and how she would wear it. It’s not my place to be prescriptive about proper hijab-wearing. As any Muslim knows, the custom and practice varies greatly from one country to another, and from one individual to another. I can, however, describe what I have seen in the U.S., and Samirah’s wearing of the hijab reflects the practice of some of my own students, so it seemed to be within the realm of reason for a third-generation Iraqi-American Muslima. Samirah would wear hijab most of the time — in public, at school, at mosque. She would probably but not always wear it in Valhalla, as she views this as her home, and the fallen warriors as her own kin. This is described in the Magnus Chase books. I also admit I just loved the idea of a Muslima whose hijab is a magic item that can camouflage her in times of need.

Before I get into this paragraph, Samirah is second generation. Her grandparents immigrated from Iraq. Her mother was first gen.

Once again, you turn to what you have seen from your students, who are literal children. They are in middle school while Samirah is in high school, so they are very obviously at different stages of development, both emotional and religious. If you had bothered to talk to adults who had gone through these stages, you would understand that often times young girls have stages where they “practice” hijab or wear it “part time”, very often in middle school. However, both her age and the way in which you described Samirah lead the reader to believe that she is a “full timer,” so you playing willy nilly with her scarf as a white man is gross.

For someone who claims to have read all of these religious texts, it’s funny that you choose to overlook the fact that “kin” is very specifically described. Muslims do not go around deciding who they consider “kin” or “family” to take off their hijab in front of. There is no excuse for including this in her character, especially since you claim to have carefully read the Quran and ahadith.

You have no place to “just love” any magical extension of the hijab until you approach it with respect. Point blank period. Especially when you have ascribed it a magical property that justifies her taking it on and off like it’s no big deal, especially when current media portrayals of hijab almost always revolve around it being removed. You are adding to the harmful portrayal and using your “fun little magic camoflauge” to excuse it.

As for her betrothal to Amir Fadhlan, only recently have I gotten any questions about this. My understanding from my readings, and from what I have been told by Muslims I know, is that arranged marriages are still quite common in many Muslim countries (not just Muslim countries, of course) and that these matches are sometimes negotiated by the families when the bride-to-be and groom-to-be are quite young. Prior to writing Magnus Chase, one of the complaints I often heard or read from Muslims is how Westerners tend to judge this custom and look down on it because it does not accord with Western ideas. Of course, arranged marriages carry the potential for abuse, especially if there is an age differential or the woman is not consulted. Child marriages are a huge problem. The arrangement of betrothals years in advance of the marriage, however, is an ancient custom in many cultures, and those people I know who were married in this way have shared with me how glad they were to have done it and how they believe the practice is unfairly villainized. My idea with Samirah was to flip the stereotype of the terrible abusive arranged match on its head, and show how it was possible that two people who actually love each other dearly might find happiness through this traditional custom when they have families that listen to their concerns and honor their wishes, and want them to be happy. Amir and Samirah are very distant cousins, yes. This, too, is hardly unusual in many cultures. They will not actually marry until they are both adults. But they have been betrothed since childhood, and respect and love each other. If that were not the case, my sense is that Samirah would only have to say something to her grandparents, and the match would be cancelled. Again, most of the comments I have received from Muslim readers have been to thank me for presenting traditional customs in a positive rather than a negative light, not judging them by Western standards. In no way do I condone child marriage, and that (to my mind) is not anywhere implied in the Magnus Chase books.

I simply can’t even begin to explain everything that is wrong with this paragraph. Here is a good post about how her getting engaged at 12 is absolutely wrong religiously and would not happen. Add that on to the fact that Samirah herself is second-generation (although Riordan calls her third generation in this post) and this practice isn’t super common even in first generation people (and for those that it DOES apply to, it is when they are old enough to be married and not literal children).

As a white man you can’t flip the stereotype. You can’t. Even with tons of research you cannot assume the authority to “flip” a stereotype that does not affect you because you will never come close to truly understanding it inside and out. Instead of flipping a stereotype, Rick fed into it and provided more fodder to the flames and added on to it to make it even worse.

I would be uncomfortable with a white author writing about arranged marriages in brown tradition no matter the context, but for him to offhandedly include it in a children’s book where it is badly explained and barely touched on is inexcusable. Your target audience is children who will no doubt overlook your clumsy attempt at flipping stereotypes.

It does not matter what your mind thinks you are implying. Rick Riordan is not your target audience, children are. So you cannot brush this away by stating that you did not see the harm done by your writing. You are almost 60 years old. Maybe you can read in between your lines, but I guarantee your target audience largely cannot.

Finally, recently someone on Twitter decided to screenshot a passage out-of-context from Ship of the Deadwhere Magnus hears Samirah use the phrase “Allahu Akbar,” and the only context he has ever heard it in before was in news reports when some Western reporter would be talking about a terrorist attack. Here is the passage in full:

Samirah: “My dad may have power over me because he’s my dad. But he’s not the biggest power. Allahu akbar.”

I knew that term, but I’d never heard Sam use it before. I’ll admit it gave me an instinctive jolt in the gut. The news media loved to talk about how terrorists would say that right before they did something horrible and blew people up. I wasn’t going to mention that to Sam. I imagined she was painfully aware.

She couldn’t walk the streets of Boston in her hijab most days without somebody screaming at her to go home, and (if she was in a bad mood) she’d scream back, “I’m from Dorchester!”

“Yeah,” I said. “That means God is great, right?”

Sam shook her head. “That’s a slightly inaccurate translation. It means God is greater.”

“Than what?”

“Everything. The whole point of saying it is to remind yourself that God is greater than whatever you are facing—your fears, your problems, your thirst, your hunger, your anger.

337-338

To me, this is Samirah educating Magnus, and through him the readers, about what this phrase actually means and the religious significance it carries. I think the expression is beautiful and profound. However, like a lot of Americans, Magnus has grown up only hearing about it in a negative context from the news. For him to think: “I had never heard that phrase, and it carried absolutely no negative connotations!” would be silly and unrealistic. This is a teachable moment between two characters, two friends who respect each other despite how different they are. Magnus learns something beautiful and true about Samirah’s religion, and hopefully so do the readers. If that strikes you as Islamophobic in its full context, or if Samirah seems like a hurtful stereotype . . . all I can say is I strongly disagree.

I will give you some credit here in that I mostly agree with this scene. The phrase does carry negative connotations with many white people and I do not fault you for explaining it the way you did. However, don’t try to sneak in that last sentence like we won’t notice. You have no place to decide whether or not Samirah’s character as a whole is harmful and stereotypical.

It is 2 am and that is all I have the willpower to address. This is messy and this is long and this is not well worded, but this had to be addressed. I do not speak for every muslim, both world wide and within this online community, but these were my raw reactions to his statement. I have been working on and will continue to work on a masterpost of Samirah Al-Abbas as I work through the books, but for now, let it be known that Riordan has bastardized my identity and continues to excuse himself and profit off of enforcing harmful stereotypes. Good night.

#*#og #rr crit #samirah al abbas #rick riordan

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lovely-ateez · 4 years ago

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Vampire Shift~

ꕥPosted: 5/23/21

ꕥGenre: Fluff, Smut, Angst, College!au, Horror!au

ꕥPairing: Fem!Reader x Vampire!Jongho (feat Wooyoung and Minho from skz)

ꕥWord Count: ~5.9k (whoops)

ꕥWarnings: Horror themes, Language, Thigh riding, Unprotected sex, Mentions of blood and blood sucking (please lmk if I missed anything)

ꕥTag List: @cappujinho @bobateastay

ꕥA/N: I hope you all don’t a more spooky concept! Halloween is my favorite holiday and even though its May, it’s always spooky season to me lolol. Also! Feel free to listen to Vampire Shift by All Time Low while reading this (it’s only on YouTube I cry) since this is inspired by the song :)

It was a terrible idea, really, to work the night shift at a gas station alone. Even more so when you’re a young woman whose only defense is the pepper spray on her key chain and 911 on speed dial. Alas, college bills don’t pay themselves and every spare opportunity to get cash was one I had to take.

The digital clock sitting on the counter next to me briefly flashed, indicating another hour had gone by. It was currently four a.m. and it was safe to say I was losing my mind. I’d worked for five hours now, and not a customer had come in. That was the only advantage, really. So long as no one was around my boss let me finish any assignments I had, which came in handy on more than one occasion.

I was only six paragraphs into a five page report and had been staring at my laptop screen for over an hour, feeling beyond brain dead. I was assigned the topic of financial statements and country trade deficits, and wanted to cry every minute I thought about it. I was half convinced to pay someone to write the report for me.

The ringing of a bell indicated a customer opening the door and I closed my laptop to peer around the counter, ready to greet whoever entered. The first man to catch my attention was wearing sunglasses which fazed me, but I tried not to stare. The man that followed had black hair with blond underneath, a combination that I strangely liked. Both men were donned in all back, their faces stoic. They were attractive, I had to admit, but neither were my type.

And then, the last man entered. He looked over to me as he walked through the door, giving me a nod and a slight smile. His slicked back black hair matched his black ripped jeans and highlighted his red leather jacket. He was so handsome he looked like he jumped out of a magazine and I had to suppress a ‘wow’. A string of butterflies fluttered in my stomach and I did my best to ignore them, not even knowing his name.

The three of them wandered through the aisles until I could no longer see them, and I scolded myself for being so thrown off that I forgot say any form of a greeting. I sighed and turned my attention back to my laptop, opening it and blankly staring at the screen. My ears perked when I heard the men’s hushed voices.

“Y’oughta get that girl’s number. I saw the way you looked at her.”

“Yeah, Jongho. She’s pretty cute. If you don’t get her number you know I will.”

“Shut up.” One of the men, Jongho apparently, responded with a laugh, “Let’s just get some snacks, okay? It’s gonna be a long night. Also I’m buying tonight so get whatever.”

A smile crept on my face and I looked down, fiddling with my thumbs.

They think I’m cute. Maybe Jongho’s the one in red?

I heard the bell ring once more and a girl entered who I vaguely remembered from high school. She was popular but for good reason, probably being one of the nicest people I’d ever met. Our circle of friends overlapped slightly so I’d spent a fair amount of time with her. She was smart as a whip and gorgeous all the same, which seemed to stay with her. She looked bright, long red hair falling around her face, freckles still prominent as ever.

We met eyes and she smiled, “Hey y/n!”

I smiled and waved, “Hey Annabelle. How’ve you been? I haven’t seen you in awhile.”

“Good! I got into my dream college and it’s been great, although I’ve had to take some pretty hard classes.” She giggled, walking towards me. It’s honestly not too far from here. You go to Westgate University, right?”

I nodded and I put my laptop aside. She spoke again, genuinely excited for me, “That’s awesome! Congrats!”

“Thanks,” I smiled, “I’m taking it you got into Orholt?”

“I did! I was really-”

One of the men that entered earlier—the one still wearing sunglasses—shouted the redhead’s name and caught her attention, “Hey Anna do you want a Redbull or a Five Hour Energy?”

“Redbull! I’m not a monster.” She laughed.

The man nodded and walked toward us with several drinks and snacks in his hands.

“Oh! I want to introduce you to my boyfriend!” Annabelle turned to the man still wearing sunglasses and reached for his arm, “This is Minho. I met him at Orholt.”

Minho gave me a slight nod as I introduced myself and he placed the food and drinks on the counter. I began to scan the items, the mindless routine that I was used to by now. The loud sound of laughter made me look up, seeing the two other men approach us and place their snacks down as well. I watched them long enough to notice the way two-tone—my new affectionate name for the man with blond and black hair, I decided—shamelessly checked me out, a cocky smile on his face when I caught him. I just let out a small laugh before resuming my task, watching his confused reaction in my peripheral vision.

“Oh my god I totally forgot to introduce you to my friends.” Annabelle giggled and pointed to two-tone, “This is Wooyoung.”

“Hiya, Wooyoung.” I said with a confident smile, enjoying the way he still had a slightly confused look on his face.

“And this,” Annabelle nodded towards the man in red, “This is Jongho. Both him and Wooyoung go to Orholt, too.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Jongho. I’m y/n.”

“Very nice to meet you.” The man smiled before he sent me a wink.

I had never been a particularly shy person, but as he did so my eyes darted down as I felt my face flush. I didn’t notice the gears turning in Annabelle’s head as she put the pieces together.

I placed the final items in the bag, raising my head as Annabelle addressed me, “You know I’m having a bonfire tomorrow night at my place and you should totally come!”

I stopped to think, first trying to remember if I worked the next day, then wondering if I was willing to go the bonfire when I realized I didn’t have to.

She sensed my hesitancy and her face fell, “Aw do you work tomorrow night? It’s a Saturday!”

“Oh no, I don’t. I...” I stopped to think for a minute. Although I likely didn’t know anyone else who would be there, I was familiar with Annabelle’s house, which brought me a bit of comfort, “Are all of you going?”

Annabelle gave a knowing smile, “Yes. All of us will be here.”

I nodded, accepting the credit card Jongho gave me, quickly after handing them the bags, and returning his card, “I’ll go.”

“Yay! We’ve gotta head out but I’ll send you the details. You’ve still got the same number, right?”

“Yeah I do.”

“Alrighty! I’ll see you tomorrow then!”

Annabelle left with a wave, her boyfriend on her arm and Wooyoung behind her. To my surprise, Jongho didn’t leave with them, the cocky look on his face all but telling me why he stayed.

I looked at him with wide eyes, playing innocent. “Can I help you?”

He placed an arm on the counter, his dark eyes seeming to put me under a spell. The confidence he was radiating was almost palpable and I felt myself being pulled to him. It was intimidating, to be honest.

“You’re really cute and I want your number.”

I let out a surprised laugh, “You really don’t beat around the bush, do you?”

“No, not really,” He propped his other arm on the counter, leaning towards me and raising an eyebrow, “So what do you say, doll?”

A smile crept on my face as I mirrored his actions and leaned towards him, “You gonna memorize my number? Or do you have a phone I can put my number into?”

Jongho’s smile got brighter as he reached to grab his phone, handing it to me. “You’re a firecracker, aren’t you?”

I shrugged, “I’d like to think so.”

When I handed his phone back, our fingers brushed and I could’ve sworn I felt sparks shoot through me at the simple interaction.

“Well I need to head out before the rest of them get too annoyed,” He nodded towards the exit where Annabelle, Minho, and Wooyoung left, “But it was enchanting to meet you, y/n.” He bowed, drawing a laugh from me.

“Ah yes. You as well, absolutely delightful.”

He gave me a smile, “I’ll text you later.”

"Sounds good. I’ll hold you to your word.”

“I’d expect nothing less.” And with that, he was out the door, leaving my heart a fluttering mess.

Me [8:37pm] So is there a dress code for tonight?

Annabelle [8:42pm] Nope! Wear whatever you’re comfortable with. I’m wearing this if it helps at all!

Annabelle [8:43pm] 1 Image Attached*

Me [8:45pm] So leather jackets and crop tops?

Annabelle [8:48pm] Haha sure! We can match!

Me [8:51pm] Lol bet. See you at eleven :)

Annabelle [8:51pm] See you then!

I started the process of slipping on a white cropped top followed by my light washed ripped jeans. I knew I was getting ready far earlier than I could have, but something about new events made me anxious and I had to make sure I looked nice. I giggled at the black leather jacket I was throwing over my shoulders, not having worn it since high school. In the middle of debating whether or not I should add another layer of mascara to my lashes, my phone dinged.

New Number [8:59pm] Y/n this better be you. This is Jongho and I’m texting you for a really important reason and I need you to reply quick

Me [9:00pm] Yeah it’s me. What’s going on are you okay??

New Number [9:02pm] I’m gonna go grab some food before I head to Anna’s. You wanna come with?

Me [9:02pm] Oh my god don’t do that to me, you buffoon. You scared me so bad rip

[New Number name changed to A Cute Buffoon]

Me [9:03pm] But sure I’m down lol. Here’s my address btw

Me [9:03pm] 1 Location Shared*

It occurred to me perhaps a bit too late that I was sharing my address with someone that I’d met only once and in a gas station.

I mean, he’s friends with Annabelle so he’s gotta be good right? God I hope so. I thought to myself.

A Cute Buffoon [9:04] Then it’s a date :) I live pretty close so I’ll be over in 10. That work for you?

Me [9:06pm] Fine with me!

A Cute Buffoon [9:06pm] Sounds good. I’ll see you soon ;)

I set down my phone and thanked myself for already doing my makeup. I checked myself out in the mirror, satisfied with my appearance and proud of how well my makeup turned out. I grabbed my bottle of perfume and spritzed the liquid in the air, letting it gradually fall on me so it wouldn’t be too overpowering.

You look beautiful, babe.

The waiting game was harder than I thought, not knowing what to do except awkwardly sit around and play an assortment of phone games. When exactly ten minutes had passed I heard my doorbell ring and I lifted myself from my couch, grinning at his punctuality.

I opened the door to see Jongho holding a bouquet of flowers, a smug look on his face. “Lovely to meet you here, stranger.”

I wanted to make a joke back but I couldn’t seem to think of anything, too surprised by the flowers in his hands. It wasn’t anything extravagant, the small bouquet of violets, but I felt my heart swell.

It’s perfect. He’s perfect.

My voice was small when I spoke, “No one’s ever given me flowers before.”

His eyebrows furrowed as a confused look painted his face, “Really?”

I nodded, taking the flowers from his outreached hands and smelling their sweet fragrance, “They’re beautiful.”

My eyes flickered to his, the tender look on his face making me feel as if I was melting on the spot, “You’re beautiful.”

I squealed, my face undoubtedly turning pink while my mind short circuited. I’d never become so shy around someone before and the only thing I could think of to say in response was another ‘thank you’ followed by ‘I’ll go get a vase for these.’

I opened my door further, rummaging through my cabinets for a vase when I noticed Jongho was still standing by the door, “You can come in, you know? That’s why I opened the door.”

He laughed nervously, “Sorry about that. Force of habit, I guess.”

I raised my eyebrows in a teasing manner, “What? Are you a vampire? Can you only come in if someone invites you?”

I thought I saw a flicker of shock on his face for a moment, but it was gone before I could register it and I shrugged it off, my eyes finding the perfect vase for the flowers.

“It’s just how I was raised.”

“I get that.” I placed the flowers in the vase, giving them a bit of water before walking up to Jongho and gently patting his cheek, “Your good manners are appreciated.”

He laughed in surprise, full gummy smile on display as he playfully swatted my hand away from his face, “Alright, alright. Let’s head out already.”

I made a sound of agreement before noticing a slight pink on his ears. I was temped to tease him, but ultimately decided to save it for later. If I could fluster him once I knew I could do it again.

The diner we went to was one I’d never heard of before, let alone been to, and I was beyond frustrated that I didn’t even know about it’s existence. It was an adorable fifties style diner and even the attire the waiters were wearing fit the theme.

“This is the cutest place to ever exist, I’m convinced.” I said as we sat down on the same side of a bright red booth.

“I really hoped you would like it. This is my favorite restaurant ever and they have fantastic milkshakes. If you’d like to share one for desert, I’m all for it.” A wink.

I bit my lip and hid my face in the menu that was placed in front of us, thankful for any method of escape.

“You’re so cute.”

“Ahh no don’t say things like that.” I giggled from behind the menu.

His hand grabbed the top of the menu, pulling it down so he could see me, “Why’s that?”

“Because you make me nervous. Like a good nervous!” I tried to explain, which only resulted in becoming even more embarrassed, “I-I mean I’m excited to be around you but I’m also nervous. I hope that doesn’t sound weird.” I cringed at myself. Never in my life did I think I’d be blushing and stuttering over some man, but my god did he prove me wrong.

“Not at all,” he reached over to take my hand in his, “because I feel it, too.”

Before I could properly react our waitress came over, taking our order and effectively saving me from becoming a human tomato.

We handed our menus back to her after ordering and she looked at us with a soft smile, “You two make a cute couple.”

While I was a bit too stunned to say anything, Jongho didn’t seem to have the same problem and went along with it, “Thank you, ma’am. That’s kind of you to say.”

When she left, Jongho leaned closer to me, “I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable by saying that we we’re a couple. I thought that-”

“No, I didn’t mind it!” I bit my tongue after likely saying that way too fast with far too much enthusiasm, but I meant it, “I didn’t mind it,” I said again, softer this time.

The tips of his ears once again turned a faint shade of pink, “Good to know.”

The food was as wonderful as it possibly could’ve been, their fries alone being one of the best things I’d ever consumed. Just as Jongho suggested, we shared a milkshake, which led to shy eye contact and laughter and my crush becoming stronger by the minute.

Just as Jongho paid and we were about to leave, a certain song began to play and he looked at me with an air of mischief, holding out his hand to me, “Dance with me.”

I took his hand, trying to hide my smile but failing. He led me away from the table and next to the jukebox. The area surrounding it was more open, probably with the intention for people to dance near it. He grabbed my waist, holding the hand of mine that wasn’t placed on his chest and looking at me in a way that could make any woman fall in love on the spot. We swayed to the music and I couldn’t help but feel full. Like I’d found all that I’d ever need.

Put your head on my shoulder~

“Do you know this song?” He asked with a smile.

I scoffed, “Of course I do! It’s one of my favorites.”

“It’s one of mine, too.”

Hold me in your arms, baby~

I mouthed along to the words as I felt the need to prove it to him. As if to one up me, Jongho began to sing along, his gorgeous voice amazing me.

Squeeze me oh so tight, show me~

That you love me, too~

I blushed as he looked at me while singing along, becoming a bit flustered himself when the lyrics clicked with him.

Put your lips next to mine dear~

Won’t you kiss me once, baby~

As if we were in sync our eyes darted to the other’s lips at the same time. I could feel Jongho’s breathing becoming heavier before he said in a hushed tone, “Can I kiss you?”

“Please.” Was all I could respond before I pressed my lips to his, fireworks igniting inside me when he kissed me back. His lips were so soft and warm and as crazy as it sounded, he felt like home. I felt him smile against my lips as the music continued to play.

Maybe you and I will fall in love~

The fire was loud, crackling and lighting up the faces of all those crowded those around it. It was essentially the only source of light in the dark of the night, except for the distant lights still on in Annabelle’s house. My hands were interlocked with Jongho’s as we sat around it’s warmth, both of us finding it hard to separate from one another.

Conversation was flowing all around us, and I was relieved to find that everyone I had talked to was kind and welcoming. I was more nervous than I realized, but having Jongho next to my side alone calmed me. Someone around the fire mentioned an old story involving Annabelle and I began to wonder where she was, having not seen her since Jongho and I first arrived. I mentioned I was going to look for her and he nodded, at first wanting to join me but then getting pulled into conversation with one of his former classmates. I told him I’d head off on my own and he nodded again.

I looked around what seemed to be the entire property and still there was no sight of her. At that moment I heard yelling coming from her house, startling me. I felt my blood run cold when I recognized one of the voices as Annabelle’s. The yelling didn’t sound like it was out of fear, but instead more aggressive, out of pure anger. Without thinking I ran inside, hoping to calm the situation but instead found what seemed to be out of a work of fiction.

An unfamiliar man was on the ground, obviously trying to get away from a hidden figure before him that seemed to be cloaked in darkness. He let out a sound that I’d never heard a human make, one that I couldn’t even compare to something I’d heard before, and a shiver ran down my back. As the figure took a step forward I recognized it as Annabelle, or what seemed to be some version of her. Her normally grey eyes were now bright red, sharp fangs on display as she snarled at the man. A group of people were surrounding them, alarmed looks on their faces but hardly trying to intervene.

“What the hell?” I whispered, my eyes wide as I tried to back away without anyone noticing. But of course, I just had to step on an empty soda can, all eyes pointing my way. As I looked at the people around me, their expressions seemed to mirror mine and I swallowed, suddenly feeling immensely claustrophobic.

I met eyes with Annabelle and she seemed to change in a flash, her eyes returning to their former color and fangs disappearing. She looked more panicked than I had ever seen her which only scared me more. She was always able to keep her stressors under control, but as she stared back at me, I saw a version of her I never had before.

I was barely able to form a sentence, adrenaline coursing through me at a rampant rate, “Um...”

Annabelle slowly walked towards me, “Oh—hey! Sorry I disappeared for a while but how’s the party going? Are you having fun?” Panic was still evident in her voice but I knew she was trying to keep a hold of the situation.

“I...I don’t-”

A stern voice came from left, and I nervously turned to meet Jongho, an unreadable expression crossing his face, “Y/n.”

“Yeah?” My voice squeaked as I began to regret agreeing to come along in the first place, still hyper aware of all the eyes on me.

“Come with me.”

His eyes softened at my panicked state and he held out a hand, “Please?”

I was hesitant, but being anywhere away from the crowd and whatever Annabelle turned into seemed to be a good idea. I took his hand and watched as he exchanged a look with Annabelle that seemed to calm her. Turning on his heels he led me back to the bonfire, sitting in a chair and motioning for me to do the same. Seeing no one around us gave me a feeling of both anxiety and comfort, and I wasn’t quite sure which feeling was winning at the moment.

“Well I’m sure you have plenty of questions.” He started, “I won’t lie to you and try to convince you what you saw wasn’t real, because it was, but I need you to know that no one is going to harm you. That guy is Anna’s roommate and they get into an argument at least once a week. Sometimes it can be nasty, but they never get physical and neither would ever hurt anyone unprovoked. No one here would.”

I was silent for a few minutes, trying to process what I saw on top of the time bomb of information he dropped on me. “Is she...is everyone....are you a vampire?” I whispered the last words, almost too stunned and afraid to say out loud.

He smiled slightly, his kind eyes making me feel safe. “Yes. We’re what you’d call vampires.”

I took a breath, almost afraid to hear the answer to my question, “Am I in any danger by being here?”

“No, everyone here is good. They don’t pose any threat. There are plenty of dangerous vampires but we stay away from them. Besides,” He placed an arm around my waist, playfulness in his eyes, “If there were, I’d protect you from them.”

“Oh? And how don’t I know you’re not dangerous?”

He leaned closer to me, clearly enjoying this, “You don’t, I suppose. Doesn’t that make it fun?”

“That’s very much debatable,” I smiled for a moment before a frown took over, “Everyone just seemed really...I don’t know, startled I guess?”

Jongho let out a loud sigh, looking down at the ground for a few seconds before looking back up at me, “Humans aren’t normally invited to these parties. It’s assumed that everyone here is a vampire. The perfume that you’re wearing, whatever the hell it is, is masking your scent. If I didn’t meet you before today I wouldn’t have known you were human. I guess Anna didn’t tell everyone, either.” He placed a hand on my knee and looked at me with kind eyes, “How are you feeling?”

“Surprisingly calm considering that I just learned vampires exist.”

Jongho laughed, “Yeah I’d say you’re taking it pretty well. Like I said earlier though, I’m sure you’ve got plenty of questions, so fire away.”

“Yeah I have a few.” I hesitated, hoping he wouldn’t be offended by my question, “Exactly how old are you?”

“Oh are you gonna age shame me?”

“No but it’s probably an important thing to know...since we kissed and all.”

He laughed again and leaned back in his chair, placing his arms behind his head, “How old do you think I am?”

I used his question as an excuse for my eyes to wander over his body. He was beyond attractive, very clearly fit and he knew it, which equal parts pissed me off and turned me on. As hard as I tried, I kept finding myself being pulled to his thighs. Even through his jeans I could tell he had strong thighs and I had to press my fingernails into my palm to keep from drooling. “From your appearance? Early twenties. From what age fiction usually tells us vampires are? I’d guess you’re a hundred and three.”

Jongho nodded with a smile, “I’m not quite that old but that’s a fair guess. You had it right the first time. I’m a pure born and we actually age, but we don’t age as quickly as humans. I’m twenty.”

“Pure born?”

“It means both of my parents are vampires.”

I nodded as another question came to mind, a smile on my lips. “Do you sparkle in the daylight?”

“Oh my god,” He covered his face with his hands, a mixture of a groan and a laugh escaping his mouth, “No, we do not sparkle in daylight, “His hands came to rest on his knees, “But it sucks that we really shouldn’t be in direct sunlight for over two hours a day. That’s normally the rule to go by. It’ll burn us if we’re in it for much longer than that.”

“So do werewolves and witches and everything like that exist, too?”

“Yeah pretty much. We don’t all get along, but we have to coexist. It’s something we’ve struggled with for a while, unfortunately. Basically everything you’d believe to be supernatural exists.”

I was silent for a while, not really knowing what else to say.

“Y/n? Are you doing okay? If you’re not comfortable being here I can drive you home right now or if you’d rather be alone I can call an Uber or—”

My heart skipped a beat at his kindness. “No, I’m okay. I guess I’m just surprised I’m learning about this just now.”

“We do a good job of hiding it. Also it was probably a given, but keep this as a secret if you can. Having a lot of people know about our existence can be risky.”

I gave him a silent nod, unintentionally leaning closer to him. The sound of approaching footsteps made me jump into Jongho’s arms. I didn’t know why I found comfort in him, knowing that he could be dangerous as well, but he’d been nothing but sweet to me. I had no reason to fear him.

Annabelle approached us but stopped, taking a few steps back when she saw how I was buried in Jongho’s arms.

“Hey y/n.” She rubbed her arm, looking down as if she’d done something wrong.

“I guess Jongho probably told you everything at this point. I’m really sorry if I scared you and I understand if you don’t want to be friends anymore.” Even in the dark I could see tears beginning to stream down her cheeks and I felt a pain in my chest.

I got up from Jongho’s hold and wrapped my arms around her, feeling her stiffen, “I trust you, Annabelle.”

Those four words seemed to relax her and she returned my hug, still sniffling, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. We aren’t supposed to tell anyone and I thought you might hate me—”

I pulled back, “Why the hell would I hate you? You’re still you.”

She laughed through tears, gripping me tighter, thanking me over and over for not pushing her away.

We’re gonna be okay. It’s all gonna be okay.

Not too long after, Jongho drove me home. The ride was more silent than when we were headed to Annabelle’s house, but the air wasn’t heavy or uncomfortable. Feeling tired, I laid my head on Jongho’s shoulder, faintly hearing ‘sleep well, baby’ before drifting asleep.

When I woke, I was in my bed. I reached for my phone on the bedside table and found a little note placed next to it that read:

I hope you don’t mind that I carried you inside. I tried to wake you for like five minutes but you were out cold. Anyways, I had a really good time with you yesterday and I hope you had fun too :) Text me when you wake so I know you’re okay. -J

I looked at my clock and saw that it was still early, but I texted Jongho anyway.

Me [3:00am] Not sure if you’re still up, but I really enjoyed yesterday, too. I’m exhausted so I’m gonna go back to sleep but I just wanted to say I’m okay and everything is good :))

A Cute Buffoon [3:00am] Sleep well, darling. We can talk in the morning

It had been roughly a month since Jongho and I started dating, and while I felt like I knew him pretty well, we had only known each other a little over a month, on top of the fact that he was a vampire which was essentially an entire separate culture. I’d asked him most questions I had early throughout our relationship, but one in particular kept replaying in my mind.

We were currently sitting on the couch in my apartment, cuddling each other. The TV was on but neither of us were really watching it. I was far more interested in the warm body in front of me, and based off of how Jongho was looking at me, the feeling was mutual.

I bit my lip, anxiously mulling over the question I’d wanted to ask him for weeks. I didn’t know how he would take it, let alone how I would bring it up, but I needed to ask at some point. Knowing he could probably sense my nerves, I gave in. “Jongho, can a human turn into a vampire?”

He hummed, turning to face me. “Why do you ask?”

“I just...I didn’t know if it could happen or not.”

Jongho chuckled, “Yeah it’s possible. It’s a long ass process to go through though, and there’s a lot that can go wrong, so it rarely happens.”

I shifted in my seat, trying not to appear overly interested. “Why is that? What can go wrong?

He smiled and raised a brow, his cocky persona resurfacing, “You sound so eager to know, dear. Do you want to become a vampire?” His eyes briefly flickered towards my lips before he tilted his head, dragging his soft lips across my neck. I let out a gasp when I felt the tips of his teeth lightly scraping the skin, “Or maybe you’re just looking for an excuse for me to put my mouth on you?”

Like with anything that exuded him, I felt myself becoming quickly overwhelmed, my mind now hazy and distant. I shut my eyes in an attempt to gain some semblance of control over myself.

“Your thoughts are swirling, doll.” Jongho began leaving gentle kisses along the side of my jaw, “Don’t think too much. Just let me take care of you. Okay?”

“Okay.” I said through a short breath, knowing we’d just have to have the conversation another time.

We’d had sex before, so it wasn’t like this was new territory for us, but every time felt like the first, leaving me just as out of breath each time.

He lifted me and placed me on his thigh, dragging me across his flexed muscles. I felt my eyes roll back at the simple motion, my need growing at an embarrassing rate. I grabbed his shoulders as I began to drag myself against him, whines and whimpers spilling from my lips.

“God you’re hot,” Jongho said through hot breaths, beginning to kiss my neck, no doubt leaving marks.

“Thanks I try.” I managed to say, pleased when Jongho laughed.

“You don’t even have to, and it’s completely unfair.” His hands moved under my shirt and danced along my skin, “It’s like you’re an angel come to life.”

I let out a loud moan, feeling tears well in my eyes from his praise, “You always make me feel so beautiful when I’m with you.”

Jongho responded with a smile, carrying me to my bedroom and laying me down on the bed while hurriedly discarding both of our clothes.

“You’re always so eager, babe.”

He nuzzled my neck as he climbed on top of me, his hands finding my own and holding them, “As if you’re not.”

“I never said I wasn’t.”

He then moved in between my thighs, teasing me with his fingers as he ran them along my wet slit, occasionally rubbing my clit, drawing small whines from me.

“Jongho please just fuck me already.”

“Sweetheart, do you even think you’re wet enough for me?” He cooed.

Feeling frustrated, I pushed my fingers inside myself with ease, pulling them out and spreading them so he could see my essence dripping down my fingers, “I don’t know you tell me.” I said with far more sass than I intended.

Jongho’s eyes widened at the sight and wasted no time positioning his cock at my entrance, pushing in and letting out the most beautiful groans.

Neither of us ever bothered to use protection because, to put it simply, vampires couldn’t get humans pregnant. It was only possible when both partners were vampires, and we took full advantage of that.

“Fuck—baby you feel amazing. You’re so warm and tight ohmygod.” Jongho moaned as he began to move, thrusting in and out of me at a steady pace.

I clenched around him, loving when he was vocal. His sounds helped get me off just as much as his actions, at times it seemed.

“You feel...really good...too.” I said through heavy breaths. And as much as I wanted to last longer in bed, with Jongho, I never could.

“I don’t know if it’s because you’re a vampire and you’ve got like magic powers or something or maybe you’re just a sex god—but holy shit...I’m close.”

He threw back his head and had the audacity to laugh, something I really couldn’t stay mad at with how good he was making me feel. “Babe it’s been like six minutes.”

“Don’t be an asshole.” I joked, my laugh turning into a moan. It only spurred Jongho on, making him angle one of my legs up higher, hitting deeper inside of me.

“I know you’re close, baby. I can feel it. Cum for me, baby girl. Let go for me.”

He reached down to tease my sensitive nub, drawing quick circles until I was seeing stars, chanting his name like a prayer.

After Jongho came down from his high, he disappeared into the bathroom as he always did, coming back with a warm towel. As he pressed the towel to my thighs I tried to ask again.

“So...about the human to vampire thing?”

“Well,” Jongho sighed, “I didn’t think I’d be able to distract you forever.” He smiled, “It’s mostly done because couples want to stay together. The thing is though, the vampire obviously gets a taste of the human’s blood and it can be hard to stop once you’ve marked them, especially since smell is such a big allure for us.”

He took a long breath, “Then the human will almost always pass out, and needs to be taken care of for the next couple days because they’ll be so weak. Another problem is that the scent of their blood will be amplified during those days and it’ll be harder for the vampire to not, you know...” He looked away, not able to say the words. I knew what he meant, we both did. In some cases, vampires would kill their human partners for of their blood. Sometimes it was beyond their control. Just a primal need that would betray them. “Then their scent is more easily detected by other vampires and the whole thing is just kinda a mess. I think I’ve only heard of five attempts and only one of them was successful.”

I nodded, not really knowing what to say.

“And then on top of it all, it can be harder for the human to adjust and it can put a lot of pressure on the relationship. Human and vampire relationships are dangerous.”

His face was serious as he ran a hand through my hair. I looked up at him and leaned into his touch.

He cleared his throat and averted his eyes, a shy behavior I hadn’t seen from him before, “I guess it’s important for you to decide then.” His eyes met mine again, “Is this still something you want to continue?”

“Our relationship?”

“Yeah.”

“Of course, are you crazy? You mean the world to me.” I swallowed, realizing he hadn’t voiced his own thoughts, “What about you? Do you want this?”

“I think you have a pretty good idea of what I want.” He smiled and pressed a quick kiss to my forehead, his eyes sparkling.

“Hey Jongho?”

He hummed, looking at me.

“I want to spend forever with you.”

#ateez #kpop #imagines #ateez au #ateez fluff #ateez imagines #ateez smut #atzinc #ateez vampire au #vampire au #jongho smut #jongho imagines

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bakugoukatsuki-rising · 5 years ago

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I'm. The new covers, op. The new covers. Gosh. Both of them hold so much symbolism. And technically they both are canon, they are both original ideas that could perfectly be valid. Horikoshi simply found something better. But anyways, I'm going to go ahead and ramble about it because Im- Op, prepare for a long ask! Hope you like it!

So!

On the one where Katsuki's the one in the picture, he's not on his knees like he is in the other two covers. Instead, he has his face down, body forward, one hand on one leg, the other one holding out for something...He's bowing. Bowing in Japanese culture is a pretty big deal. Hes not just tilting his head a bit, his head and body are on full on commitment.

Such a tilted bow means a LOT, specially from THIS guy, Mr dont let anyone walk in front of me. Even more when hes not just bowing, but accepting such an open display of given help, Mr shonen anime lone wolf. Accepting something he always has trouble admitting to. Accepting the past, accepting the wrongs. Accepting Izukus help means so much, and that's what these three covers have in common.

His hand is sctretching out. He's ready to say yes to that hand out in the air.

(Ps. I wonder if he's watching his own reflection on the water in this panel, as well?)

Hes in middle of the picture with those childhood friend at the back, which means audience. It means letting people see what hes done, what he's sorry for. He is being open and exposed and vulnerable. That's no fighting stance.

Remember guys, in case you haven't noticed before, Horikoshi puts lots of metaphorical value in his manga and on his covers. Sometimes you've got to dig in deep and think to get the bigger picture. And in this case, the bigger picture screams regret and wanting to make things right from the start.

This cover occurs in the past, at the moment where everything started, and Katsuki fully remembers this. Katwuki has thought of this, is thinking about this. He's had eye bags for gods sake, he's clearly troubled by all of what it means.

These three covers are the visual explanation of what's going on inside Katsuki's head, because this is clearly focused on him and his perspective.

(Ps. Rivers symbolise the massage of time. If that doesnt add to everything else, I dont know what to tell you.)

So! Next!

Wow, if this isnt one of my favourite things ever. Okay. Christ.

I have two options here. Scratch that, three options. Scream into the void, scream into this post, or actually make a good presentation of my inner turmoil. I'll have to go by the third option. (Haha. Just like horikoshi did. Dont # me, I'm funny in my head.)

This cover melted my insides, froze them all over, and hit me with them like a hammer.

I know they're kids, but let me get this straight-so kids seriously look at their friends with these looks in their eyes and think "ah, yes. This is my very good friend. This gentle smile and kind look I'm giving him as if he was my whole world? Well, hes just a very good friend."

I looked at my childhood crush this way, I dont know what to tell you.

Anyway, let's actually jump to the information at hand.

This panel seems like it's making a reference to what Katsuki wishes could have been. And if that's not absolutely soul-crushing...this cover is Katsuki's feelings, guys. These are probably his very thoughts. This scene has gone through Katsuki's head at some point.

We've got Izuku in his stuck up pose all over again, in just an awkward angle. It's like katsuki isnt looking AT this katsuki right now, but at the spot where the actual past Katsuki, at some point, was. As if this Isuku is frozen in time. Dont believe too much in this paragraph, I still have my doubts about that, but I feel it's a possibility. Izukus eyes seem to be focused on the water, while Katsuki is just the tiniest bit back, reaching for Izukus hand. And gosh.

I dont think I've ever seen older NOR child Katsuki have this look plasted into his face before. He's...sheepish. Kindly, awkwardly sheepish. No hate, no anger, no shame, no nothing. His face is clear and sweet and has this "Whoops. You got me. But thanks." kind of expression on.

The hand behind his head, just the tiniest but embarassed? That little smile? It's all so soft.

Rambling about softness though- I really liked the hand scene in this particular panel. If you close up your view, you realise that theres no effort to pull anyone out of nowhere. In this panel, they are simply holding hands in frozen time for no purpose at all.

Katsuki has his hand around Izuku...simply holding there.

Again, because the angle is awkward, it's kind of messy, but you get the point.

It's all simply beautiful. Horikoshi clean likes give me life.

And lastly. The actual cover.

I screeched so hard when I saw this. My first instinct when seeing this for the first time was to straight up go trigger happy fingers and write about it to my friends. Christ.

Everything is so...SOft. horikoshi made a good decision by mixing both previous drawings in one. We have parts of the two covers in one, which is amazing. In this one, Katsuki isnt alone, as Izuku's there too. But we dont have the audience either. Probably because the main focus on this panel is no one else except them two.

Again, Katsuki looks like he's bowing, but instead of looking all the way down, he's in the middle. Not looking at Izuku nor looking at the ground, like it shows in the previous covers. Instead, Horikoshi found a middle ground. He's looking at his hand. At the gesture.

Hes not holding hands quite yet, but his hand is there. At arms reach. Not close enough but there. Wanting.

Theres so much regret and again, softness.

Again, like you Op said a bit bad, the angle is off here. This is present Katsuki remembering his past. The angle is off because this Izuku isnt holding out for our Katsuki. This is a memory. A wish. Katsuki's wish.

(Ps. Izukus trousers drenched in the rivers water. This detail was so nice. It's a subtle action that describes Izukus characterization so much. Izuku went in the river with Katsuki in mind, not caring if he got his clothes soaked in the process too. For Izuku, only Katsuki was there. And for Katsuki, only Izuku is.

As a plus, I can't believe the cover of this is literally called Bakugou Katsuki rising. They named the entire thing after that one chapter. Actually, I very much, totally believe it. It's the moment so many people have been waiting for, after all. The moment so many scenes have been amounting for, little by little.

*dreamy sigh*

Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed this little thing, I had to get it out of my system and dont want to bother my dear friends anymore than needed.

Have a good day, OP! I'll stay updated!

You kinda just...took my heart and curb stomped it, not gonna lie. Your observations are so beautiful and so accurate. The sketch with little Bakugou taking Izuku’s hand is so...raw, and yeah, that expression is definitely one of love. Those eyes, the way he is HOLDING Izuku’s hand, not TAKING it. He isn’t taking it to stand up, he is literally just...holding it.

That isn’t the way you take someone’s hand when you’re trying to pull yourself up. It’s an awkward angle and just...wouldn’t work right. No, he is literally just holding his hand, and that’s exactly what Bakugou wishes he did all that time ago. He wishes that he not only took Deku’s hand, but held onto it. Held it as if it were something precious, something to be cared for and protected.

These are Bakugou’s true feelings expressed in these drawings, and I think Horikoshi released them on purpose, to show us more of what he wanted Bakugou to be feelings through all of this. Since after all, we know that Bakugou expresses himself in action, not so much words. And because Horikoshi is an absolute genius, he thought to give us these other glimpses in how he feels through these actions.

And the other sketch with him bowing his body to Izuku, and the way the log looks like it’s on his back with his ‘friends’ on top of it.

The pressure of needing to be the coolest, the strongest, the best. Those kids put that kind of pressure on him, even if they never realized it. They encouraged his behavior and fed his ego, and it never allowed him to see how he was wrong. But now he is realizing it, and he is bowing himself in light of that acknowledgement. He is lowering his head and putting his pride away, so he can get back what he lost all those years ago; the opportunity to take Izuku’s hand.

To take the hand of the only one of those kids that ever loved him unconditionally. Who never pressured him or expected him to be invincible. Who saw all of his flaws and was completely prepared to support him despite all of it. The only one.

I’m just a mess over all of this, and I am so incredibly thankful to Horikoshi for creating this beautiful relationship. AND IN A SHOUNEN MANGA, NONETHELESS!!

Thank you friend, for your beautiful thoughts. I think they’re spot on, and I am so emotional all over again because of this.

#bnha spoilers #bnha #mha #bkbk #bakudeku #midoriya izuku #bakugou katsuki #kacchan #deku #bnha meta #bnha analysis #blackiee-is-heree #asks #basketball idiot #basketball idiot replies

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betweentheracks · 4 years ago

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My question is regarding styling for promotional work in the US - I see so many female stars who are in a different outfit, with full hair and makeup, for their interviews, sometimes with multiple changes per day. And then, there is their male costar slouching along in jeans and a rumpled shirt for a whole days worth of appearances. Is there a contractual requirement placed on female stars or is this just an industry norm? Thank you in advance for any insight you can offer!

Ah, look at you go Greyface! Taking a real stab right into the black heart of the style industry. How bold and perceptive of you! 🤭

The simple and direct answer is, this is a double standard.

The more complex path that still leads to same resulting answer is very worth traversing though and is filled with the peaks and plummets of the fashion industry's history. So, naturally, we'll walk this way together and take a look.

Buckle up, rack mates, this ride is a doozy.

The following is my insight and perception as a professional stylist and is subjective to my position and role.

It is a well and widely known fact of fashion and beauty that at the heart of all the glitz and glamorous there is a horrible ugliness beneath. It is treated as an unseen slight or even a "secret" we shouldn't talk much about. It is as old as fashion itself and has only been worsened over time and with the evolution of marketable style and beauty standards. Women are more promotional than men = women are more desirous than men = women are the pitch and men plunder fame by proxy.

Sex sells. Point of fact; type face bold print. This is the truth of fashion and entertainment and is a marketing strategy at this point.

Specifically, however, it isn't that "sex" sells but rather which sex sells. As in which gender is the apparent and clear choice to use as a promotional feature and living advertisement. The answer is, as it has been for ages now, women. Feminine features are fair and pleasing to behold. They can be dressed up and toned down; styled into an ideal of wanting and craving. Women can be influential to both male and female audiences by beckoning men's gazes to the treats she has for them (treats being whatever it is she is being used to stage and sell) while sitting loftily as an iconic standard of beauty for women to reach for and in turn take up anything to help achieve this ideal (meaning they'll buy whatever is being promoted in their wish to be like the woman on the package).

This strategy and double standard extends well beyond the immediate scope of fashion or upselling the brands of luxury labels. It is also very present in the entertainment industry as a means to promote films, television, and other media. You'll see an actress working the promo circuit or doing interviews dressed to the nines even in casual and laid back styles and then you'll blink and she's done up entirely different but no less coifed and glamorous. Meanwhile her male counterparts and costars are parading about in very understated styles or even sloppy attire, sometimes dressed out in high quality suits but still not quite up to snuff. The efforts of stylists clearly more aimed towards maintaining the woman first and the man second, if at all.

The second and less often discussed pigeon hole that fuels this sexist standard is money. Femme fashion, while typically more expensive, is still unquestionably more versatile than menswear. This is because fashion profits more off female consumption and interest than male and thus caters to that market with more variety and visibility. Wardrobe budgets for filming are skewed with more money funneled into the styling of an actress or female celebrity with a limit on how much is spent on the men. This is symbiotic with the pricing of menswear being less than womenswear but altogether more durable in its make.

It's frustrating and awful and I am ever so glad and thankful that it is slowly having attention called upon it by those within the industry. As modern style continues to evolve and dilute the boundaries between gender stereotypes and typecasting, this double standard becomes more and more frail. Many voices have started gathering in outrage over such rampant and asinine misogyny. Men have come forward to demand that they are as equally marketable and appealing, women have put their foot down and refused to be sexualized or sensationalized. There is the rising trend of androgyny and transgender recognition. Each step is in the right direction and in pursuit of an equal playing ground where women and men can each be glammed up and used as a standard for beauty or poised as a pinnacle of style.

I work extensively with male clients to this effect. I not only enjoy gender neutral styles but have clients that have made it clear they like the glamor of femme styles and want their image to be a balance of masculine and feminine. My oldest client wears heels and likes glittering eye makeup and has often made a case to be allowed to wear skirts or dresses, while my only female artist prefers more of an asymmetrical blending of menswear with feminine accents and likes her footwear to be the type that she, in her words, "can kick ass and stay looking class" while wearing.

There's an uptick in the emergence of queer brands and LGBTQ+ labels in the US with ideals/ethics steeped in the goal of gender neutrality and equality. With them comes the new hope for fashion's future where gender lines are not drawn and women are not the golden rule of promotional value for their supposed sexy/cute/inviting stereotype.

I hope to see men as a campaign centerpiece for lingerie, make up, and other needlessly gendered interests and women in ads for suits and leisure activities such as fishing or mudding and the other inherently male coded interests. I hope to see all gender typecasts and molds fall away entirely with people simply promoting things they enjoy. To see a full cast given the same amount of primping and stylized effort when making the rounds to talk up their projects.

Progress is slow but the world of fashion hinges upon welcoming change and being influenced by current climates and trends just as much as it influences outwardly. One of these days this double standard will be stripped out and the industry will again be revolutionized or it will become obsolete.

Beauty is beauty; people are people; style is style. Promotional/marketable viability cannot stay relevant against the might of such simple truths. The coming years will see the divide between gender being filled as designers and labels fight to remain prominent empires of fashion, and from there other interrelated industries will have no choice by to comply lest they find themselves stripped bare ass naked and lacking affiliations.

This post went and became a sort of tangent, whoops. I'll rest my rambling here and call it good. I intend to make a full post detailing the reshaping of fashion in the height of today's evolving inclusivity of gender roles and norms and the correlation of how fashion has long since been steps ahead in this movement. This ask happens to be a good sounding place for what some of that content will look like.

Fashion and style was never intended to give distinction between the masculine and feminine nor to place significance on gender. Segregation in fashion was initially between wealth and status; a determination of class in way way back when clothing first became an expression. Originally, fashion had no actual gender associations and men and women all worse similar styles of robes that would now be considered dresses. Class and wealth gave way, buckling to the thought of using one's showy status to promote goods to be traded and this was the birth of marketing women as a means of interest. Ever since it has been an internal struggle between ethics of material misuse of rights (sexism) versus capital relevancy (turning profits via brand visibility). A number of fashion houses are guilty of going with the flow and hoping the fortune and reputation made along the way could either cushion the blowback of systemic misogyny one day being aired out or could be used to steadily alter the trajectory of style's evolution.

Consider fashion as a tightrope act being performed between the politics of brand recognition and the conceptual idealism of expression. One small and out of sync step will result in a dire fall with no way of knowing if there is a safety net to pardon a brand or label from plunging into obscurity. This is why the fashion industry prefers taking time to plan careful steps forward and seldom rushes out. Fashion keeps pace while also staying baby steps ahead to change the course of current societal trends, even willing to sometimes relinquish any ground it has in effort to remain on the wire at all. It's a precarious give and take.

Three paragraphs later, truly, I yield to the length of this post and am done. I can’t guarantee this was even close to what you wanted to know and for that I am sorry. I get swept up by the passion I have for the inner workings of the business and lose myself (and my train of thought so if this doesn’t make a lick of sense, that would be why lol). Still, I do hope some of this sheds a little light on the matter.

#racks asks #style #fashion #style discourse #please this post is so out of pocket and i am still unsatisfied #oh to be a pro stylist in the fashion realm during societal shifts #it's like all the runway lights are set to strobe and with every luminous glimpse of genderless style there's a follow up of pitch black

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365days365movies · 4 years ago

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March 2, 2021: The Last Unicorn (1982) (Part 1)

I, uh...I wanna talk about zoology.

It’s my profession of choice, although if I’m going to be specific, it’s ecology and ornithology, based on my Masters. But while my expertise is in birds, that doesn’t mean I have any particular preference. So, let’s talk mammals. Specifically, I’d like to talk about horses.

Horses are odd-toed ungulates (Order Perissodactyla) belonging to the family Equidae, with only one living genus (Equus), which includes donkeys, zebras, and a FUCK-ton of fossil progenitors. Not gonna go into horse evolution here, since it’s a vast topic on its own, but the group dates to about 54 million years ago, during the Eocene period.

There are specific features that define modern horses as horses, including a single hoofed toe for walking on, a body built for running with high stamina, and a large cecum in the intestines for breaking down fibrous and herbaceous material. It’s a group native to North America, Africa, and Asia, with the modern descended horse descended from a somewhat unknown ancestor in Central Asia.

They’re grazers rather than browsers, which many similar sized herbivores are. And, of course, they have a close relationship to humans throughout prehistory. Their main systems of defense against predators are the afore-mentioned running capabilities, a VICIOUS kick (especially horses like zebras), and a high-range of monocular vision due to the position of their HUGE eyes.

In terms of sexual selection, it’s essentially based on physical competition between the males in a population, which are usually formed into reproductive harems. That’s one male with multiple females that live within an established range. The females have their own dominance schemes, while groups of males exist in bachelor herds before establishing a harem of their own.

And those two paragraphs help explain why horses don’t grow horns.

Animals like this bighorn sheep, as well as antelopes with impala and gerenuk, perform intrasexual selection using their horns, the size of which determine the fitness of an individual male, with the fights settling any potential ties for watching females. And that’s the main reason why herbivorous mammals grow horns, and horses have come up with different social structures to compensate. But OK, couldn’t they just horns anyway?

Remember the stomach I mentioned earlier? Here’s the thing; hindgut digestion, which is what horses do...not the most nutritionally efficient form of digestion. In order to maintain their running lifestyles, they invest all obtained energy and nutrients into building muscle and other important functions. Fact of the matter is, they just can’t devote enough energy and nutrients to the physiologically expensive act of owning a horn. They do have a close relative that does that, though. However, they’ve sacrificed their speed, intelligence, and even their eyesight for their horns, as well as beefing up their physical defense with thicker skin.

YUP! So why talk about this? I mean...you know why.

OK, so that had basically nothing to do with this movie, but a post like this has been building since I mentioned the gerenuk a little bit ago. Sorry, had to get it out. Anyway, yeah, unicorns are impossible, but they’re still a hallowed mythical creature. National animal of Scotland, one of the most prominent symbols of medieval mythology, a magic-using ethnic class in a mythical kingdom composed of a horse-based majority that also includes normal horses and pegasi...

You know, unicorns. So, I’m definitely interested in what would happen to make a unicorn, well...the last one. My bets are on something man-made, like deforestation or another for of habitat depletion. Could be poaching for the horn. After all, that’s what’s been driving rhinoceros species to near-extinction (or actual extinction in the case of the western black and northern white rhinos. RIP Sudan, you goddamn king).

But let’s find out rather than speculate! SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap (1/2)

During medieval times, in a mystical wood called the Unicorn’s Forest, a hunter shows unease to his companion. In the forest, there are no seasons, and the beasts are protected from hunters, as long as there is one unicorn left if the forest. That last unicorn is...the Unicorn (Mia Farrow), who learns from the hunters that she must be the last of her kind.

The opening credits, which are a gorgeous animated medieval tapesty, are backed by the song “The Last Unicorn”, by America (damn, nice pull). Gives the whole thing a Renn Faire feel. Never been to a Renn Faire, but I’d love to go to one, honestly.

Anyway, the Unicorn is in doubt that there are no more of her kind in the world, as they live forever, and she would know if there are none left...right? However, they can also be killed and trapped, so...I mean, they might be dead, Unicorn. As she’s thinking on this, the most Rankin-Bass butterfly ever shows up singing a ballad of love. This is...the Butterfly (Robert Klein), a bard-erfly (see whay I did there) who won’t stop singing, despite the Unicorn’s pleas to tell her of other unicorns.

Butterflies, apparently, repeat to anything they hear around them Which involves like, a lot of non-medieval songs. There’s one about the A-train, apparently, which makes...just NO fucking sense. As the Unicorn also shows frustration at this anachronistic little bugger, he breaks his songs to tell her than the Unicorns have all been chased off by “the Red Bull.”

...I’m going to hold it off as long as I can, but the joke WILL come. It WILL come.

She wonders if she can truly leave the forest, then actually does so in order to find the other unicorns. She happens upon a farmer, who attempts to tame her, as he only sees her as a horse. Apparently, men can no longer see unicorns as they are, and usually only see them as white horses. So, there may be unicorns in the world after all!

Not sure why she doesn’t go back to her forest after realizing this, but...OK. She continues on, backed once again by a song performed by America, called “Man’s Road”. Real talk, I’m digging the music in here, which is my inner folk rock fan talking.

While she finds nothing on her journey, she’s instead found by Mother Fortuna (Angela Langsbury), a witch who runs a carnival that needs a new exhibition. With her comes Ruhk (Brother Theodore) and magician Schmendrick (Alan Arkin), the latter of whom actually can see the Unicorn as a Unicorn.

At the carnival, Schmendrick introduces hiself to the Unicorn, wanting to get her out of there. Meanwhile, an audience is fooled by Mother Fortuna’s illusory magic to see a manticore, satyr, and the Midgard Serpent, when in reality they are an elderly lion, ape with a twisted foot, and really sad snake. However, the Harpy that she has IS real, and a major threat to Fortuna were she to escape.

That night, Fortuna speaks to the Unicorn of the Red Bull, owned by a King Haggard. The Unicorn asks Fortuna to free both her and the Harpy, two signs of the same magical coin. Also...is this a kids’ movie? Kinda thought it was until I noticed that the Harpy has, well...pendulous breasts. Literally the best way I can describe them. Also, three of them, so...there’s that.

After she leaves, Schmendrick arrives to free the Unicorn with his magic...and he’s shit at it. Like, REALLY shit. But thankfully, he’s a decent pickpocket, and stole the cage keys from Ruhk. He lets the Unicorn free, and she in turn releases the other animal prisoners, Harpy included. Which is NOT great for Fortuna, who’s IMMEDIATELY killed.

The two leave together, and head on the Unicorn’s journey to find her own kind. She cannot grant Schmendrick his wish to become a true magician, but he still gives her information about this world, and King Haggard, who seems like bad news.

On the road, the two encounter a gang of thieves of the road, who work for Captain Cully (Keenan Wynn), a short and portly leader of bandits. His mistress is a woman named Molly Grue (Tammy Grimes), who’s endlessly frustrated by Cully’s regular failures. They befriend Schmendrick, who impresses them with illusions of Robin Hood and his Merry Men. Although, it’s not his illusions, but those of the Unicorn, trying to help.

Doesn’t help that much, though, as the Robin Hood-hating Captain Cully ties him up to a tree after all of his men and Molly leave. A frustrated Schmendrick mutters a spell by mistake, and brings the tree to life.

And then my girlfriend fuckin’ broke. Here she is, below:

Ravishing. Yeah, she’s watching this too, and when the tree came up, her words were, and I quote:

...a smooth-talking horse, a three-tittied harpy, and a BOOBED TREE!

Boobed tree is an expression I will find a way to use in my life. Also, this is ABSOLUTELY not a kid’s movie, and that is one busty-ass tree. This tree, called...The Tree (Nellie Bellflower) is in love with Schmendrick, and is enraged by the appearance of the Unicorn. However, the Unicorn undoes Schmendrick’s magic, and puts the t-horny tree back to sleep.

The two encounter Molly Grue, who’s astonished to see a Unicorn. She cries, as she was been waiting to see one since she was a young maiden, but now she isn’t one anymore. Interesting implications there, but moving on. Molly wishes to join them, and while Schmendrick isn’t super down for that, she wins the Unicorn’s trust when she points out that they’ve been going in the wrong direction. Whoops.

OK, with that, let’s break for Part 2! See you there!

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halothenthehorns · 4 years ago

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All in the Family

Chapter 11: Halloween

The shattered porcelain stank of dripping water still leaking onto the cracked tiles, and burnt out candles leaving the windowless room in virtual shadows made it hard to even identify for a moment they were still in Hogwarts, let alone in a girls bathroom.

"Is this Moaning Myrtle's bathroom?" Alice asked, staying crouched where she'd landed underneath the loan intact sink that was still cracked as if something heavy had impacted it anyways.

"More importantly, what is that smell?" Remus grumbled, plugging his nose as it lingered and intensified rather than dulled in the room around them. He wanted to go over and blast the door open simply for a breath of air now more than just getting out for once.

He was ignored, though all of them had scrunched up faces for this fact as well.

"No, even that place isn't this destroyed," Lily disagreed in return to Alice, having to wade out of a particularly deep pool of water that had drowned her shoes and most of her lower half on impact. She had to nudge a broken pipe out of the way as she stepped out.

"Anyone else having the fear that crazy three headed dog somehow did this?" Frank asked, having to heave himself off of a toilet that he hoped was just filled with dirty water, though he couldn't blame someone otherwise if they'd witnessed this mess while being in here.

"I don't see that," Remus disagreed, prodding an obliterated bathroom stall with his wand and inspecting how it was clearly smashed apart, judging by all the splintered wood around yet no marks, from teeth or claws, in sight. He was also still breathing through his mouth more than anything, looking like he was panting slightly but only accomplishing at having his mouth be dry now and still tasting the air and somehow increasing the rank around him.

"Dumbledore's had that thing pinned up for a good few months before Harry found it," Sirius agreed. "Though I'm sure if something did change, I'm getting the feeling Harry's going to be involved in finding out what."

"Thank you for that encouraging statement," James sighed, his reflection in a shattered mirror showed how pale he'd been pretending he wasn't seeing all this.

Regulus had landed in half a cracked basin and shattered the rest of it beneath him, but he also didn't have the inclination to move away and towards the center of the room like the others did. He wasn't entirely sure that whatever had done this wouldn't be back any second to finish the job, and he'd rather not be in a crowd when that happened.

Peter finally found the book wedged into the wall that had the largest hole in it, and he stepped away from it just as fast back over to James to start reading rather than imagine what could make such an impact.

"Yes, Halloween!" Sirius whooped. "The one day a year we're all encouraged to eat candy!"

He bellowed this loudest of all in Prongs' ear, having noticed full well his eyes flipping to Lily in a panic. No one had forgotten the date earmarked for their deaths, but Sirius refused to linger on that and he was loath to let anyone else.

Remus gave him a sympathetic look, but thankfully attention was easily caught for all of them as the main portion of this chapter seemed to hold more chat of Quidditch.

Lily seemed the only one in protest of this, as she went down to the first and only undestroyed stall and leaned against the post, glaring at anything but Potter as he enthused over what he was calling a prodigy in the air. She wasn't sure how long it had been since all this mess had started, it already felt like days though she was sure it couldn't have been but a few hours. Yet clearly they weren't even passing in any normal amount of time frame anymore than locations, so who knew, maybe it had been years since she'd been out of his company already.

She wondered, if she'd somehow been forewarned this was going to happen, if she still would have bailed out of the experience though. As maddening as the boy was, and as goading as the news continued how much a future kid of his seemed to resemble him even without Potter being around, this was quite honestly the most fascinating thing she'd ever seen happen in her life.

While still unable to fathom why Sev was acting in such a detestable way in this future, she was now clinging to the idea there had to be a reason for this, something the school just didn't know but Dumbledore did for this behavior.

It didn't help the situation that Harry continued in a way she abhorred, her incredulity growing more by the paragraph someone had claimed her attachment to this kid. So far all Harry had done was follow Ron along in breaking school rules, and the moment he was done spending all his time thinking about Quidditch, he did nothing to deter his friend from making that little girl cry!

Harry had her sympathy while being oppressed at those horrid Dursleys, and he'd been perfectly polite but more quiet than anything around Hagrid while learning about this new world. Now though, there was no excuse but a child not wanting to deal with his problems he'd created just like his father as Hermione was just shooed from his mind as the Halloween feast was started. If he'd realized Hermione didn't have any friends than the very least he could have done after making her cry over it was offered an apology!

Of course, the arrival of the troll changed things just a bit.

"In the dungeon? In the dungeon!"

"I don't care what part of the castle it's in," Frank yelped to Alice, "it shouldn't be in the castle at all!"

"Wow," Black drew the word out far longer than it needed to be. "Wonder who on earth was stupid enough to try and get away with that!"

"Well it certainly wasn't Peeves," Remus rolled his eyes at the ludicrous suggestion.

Lily watched them all, growing paler by the second and wondering why there weren't screams in the background to echo the one going through her head for the fate of the student who knew nothing of this, but it was clear now Hermione hadn't lingered in their minds anymore than Harry-

"Oh my gosh, Hermione!" James yelled so loud he nearly startled Peter's ear right off.

"Crap, the little crying girl," Sirius agreed, dithering on the spot for a moment before making as if to go to the door right now, then he froze. They all did, as they looked around once again at the destruction around them, in a girls bathroom...

Alice said something quite to Frank's surprise, never having heard his girlfriend curse like that, but no one else really noticed as suddenly Peter was reading faster than ever. For once, James and Lily found themselves on the exact same page, standing on the tips of their toes and wanting to cheer Harry and Ron on as they went after her. Admittedly in a different method than she would have liked, Lily acknowledged, she didn't at all understand their need to avoid authority in their strive to get help, but she couldn't find it in herself to argue either.

The arrival of the troll on the same path as the boys did not come as much to the surprise as it should have considering what they'd realized, and any confusion or questions over the matter would just have to wait. It didn't matter how it had gotten up there, the opposite end of the school it had been reported. Who cared how it got in so long as it got right back out without killing a couple of first years!

Harry and Ron's harrowing pass through this place was like no experience they'd ever felt before. Each swing of the trolls club, every broken plaster around them seemed as if echoing anew, they could practically hear the kids screaming and were all wanting to duck down as well, as far away from this debris as they could.

Worst of all turned out to be Harry's impromptu plan to save Ron's life.

James had to fight the urge to tackle Peter to the ground and wrestle the book away from him. The news was too vivid, he could all to easily picture the little first year hanging off the neck, a wand being shoved up those nostrils. His friends could as well, Harry just too resembled his father in their mind and none of them would have idly stood by with that happening to him, so they all couldn't help the massive sigh of relief when Ron's spell worked out.

Peter could still feel his heart racing at the excitements end, Harry merely wiping his wands boogies away like it was nothing would have had him on the floor laughing any other time in his life, even the arrival of the teachers just couldn't mean as much.

The others were all so relieved in fact, and then more over shocked at Hermione's turn on all of this, Regulus felt he was the only one frowning in confusion at Quirrell's part in all this. He'd been acting pretty suspicious through this whole thing, declaring the troll was in the wrong part of the castle, and then arriving only to collapse at the sight of it.

The warning of this almost being over came, in hindsight, of not that much use, considering none of them actually had a way to brace themselves. Instead Regulus turned his attention to the thought he wouldn't deny that those kids were lucky to be alive, though the fact that Harry had made a new friend through the event felt honestly ridiculous. This kid sure had an odd track record, sharing sweets with one and saving the life of another.

#Harry Potter #fanfiction #Wolfstar #Regulus Black #Remus Lupin #Sirius Black #James Potter #Peter Pettigrew #Lily Evans #Alice Smith #Frank Longbottom #reading the books

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crossdressingdeath · 5 years ago

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(1/3) It always amuses me how stans try to justify JC actions by his abusive upbringing while there were 3 children in that family and both others turned very kind and/or very moral and not at all like JC (and frankly, he didn't even have the hardest position in the dysfunctional dynamic). Or LXC and LWJ whose upbringing was even more screwed up with a LQ who was certainly playing favorites and wanting perfection, and yet this never draw a wedge between them or created any jealousy.

(2/3)LXC loves for LWJ to excel! Same with "but JC had it so hard rebuilding Lotus Pier, WWX was goofing off with the Wens"...JC was paying people to do that for him, yes, while WWX was trying to start from scratch a settlement over a mountain of corpses with a bunch of weak or old people and not to die of hunger comes winter. While separated from all his friends and hated as a monster by the cultivation world. "But JC was so lonely during the 13/16y, so that justifies him lashing out" And WWX

(3/3) was dead, killed by his brother and thinking that there was not a person left on his side in the end, and yet, that didn't make him act like a dick? Or athg else really, because everything that JC went through in the past, WWX did also, but in a worse way because he lost his parents young, lived in the streets, didn't have JC societal privilege or money and has to harness an unstable necromancy practice on top of that. And yet no one uses it as arguments to explain his actions, only for JC

Honestly? While none of the Jiang kids were in a good position, out of the three of them... JC did have it the easiest. It was still awful for him, don’t get me wrong, I’m not suggesting his childhood didn’t suck, but given it was made very clear to JYL that her only purpose was to be married off to JZX so her mother could tie her bloodline to her best friend’s and WWX was treated like a servant at best... Yeah. If I had to pick, I’d choose having a distant father and dealing with a mother who’s constantly emotionally abusive over having a distant father and dealing with a mother who’s constantly emotionally abusive and being treated like a bargaining chip/treated like a servant and/or bastard and being whipped for actions that would get the rest of the clan a lecture at worst. Again, I’m not saying JC didn’t have it bad, but his siblings having it worse is... interesting, given neither of them decided to be dicks to Literally Everyone over it.

I do have to say, even though this is about JC, there’s nothing suggesting LQR was playing favourites with LXC and LWJ. He was strict, yes, probably stricter than he should’ve been, and LXC probably did get more one-on-one interaction with him, but given LXC was going to be sect leader/became sect leader at a young age that makes sense. This is not super important to the point of this post, but I do find it odd how often people make LQR out to be this horrible person who’s always awful to his nephews because he’s Strict when we... don’t actually know anything about how he raised them. I don’t like him all that much, and he probably didn’t do a fantastic job of raising them, but the man did try, and he clearly wants his nephews to be safe and happy (even though he has inaccurate views of what that entails...), and given how the parents/parental figures of the cast generally act he deserves some credit for that. Also the Twin Jades ended up considerably better-adjusted than most of their age group, which... isn’t saying much all things considered but it does say something. If nothing else neither of them seem to feel actively unsafe around him, so he’s definitely not the worst parental figure in this novel.

...I had a surprising number of thoughts on LQR there. Whoops, sorry about the tangent. Maybe I’ll make a post about him at some point. Anyway, yeah, LXC and LWJ clearly adore each other! LXC would be delighted if LWJ surpassed him at something! Same with Nie bros; they argue a lot, but there’s no denying that they love each other. That’s what insults and threats out of love look like; NMJ threatens NHS all the time, but NHS clearly isn’t all that bothered by it until JGY starts fucking with NMJ’s mind and the threats become more serious, which really isn’t NMJ’s fault. It’s because in the other sibling relationships both parties are invested in staying close. They love each other and want to be close for the rest of their lives! Meanwhile JC is obsessed with WWX outperforming him at Literally Everything, and WWX genuinely believes that JC is allowed to treat him the way he does and it’s fine and healthy.

And yeah, JC wasn’t exactly rebuilding Lotus Pier all by his lonesome with his own two hands. In fact, going by what we see all the rebuilding was done well before WWX left! And I don’t doubt for a second that WWX was involved in that process; I have very mixed feelings about the scene in CQL where he blows off his duties to go and get drunk, because on the one hand it does do a good job of showing just how bad his mental state is getting (and how JC refuses to acknowledge it despite WWX obviously being Not Okay), but on the other hand... I just can’t see WWX not throwing himself into helping JC with everything he’s got even while his mental state is coming crashing down around him. I mean, this is the guy who created an incredibly powerful weapon that even he couldn’t fully control, not knowing what using it would do to him, to help his brother win a war. I’m pretty much certain that WWX ran himself into the ground helping JC rebuild and run the sect... then when he found himself in charge of a small group of desperate people, scrambling to keep them fed and clothed and healthy, JC just abandoned him to deal with it on his own.

And the whole “Oh, but JC was so lonely, don’t you feel bad for him?” shtick. I hate it so much. If he didn’t want to be lonely, he should’ve considered that before alienating everyone in his age group and leading an army to murder his brother, the only person left who was willing to put up with him! It’s... really hard to feel bad for someone who’s brought most of their suffering on themselves through a series of generally shitty and frequently downright cruel actions with easily foreseeable consequences. If he got sick of being alone, he should’ve apologized to his peers for being a dick to... literally all of them and tried to make amends and strike up some sort of relationship. Or, if that didn’t work, go out! Meet new people! Try not to be as awful to them! Also, he’s a sect leader. If he couldn’t even maintain a positive relationship with other sect leaders, people who, let me remind you, he has to work with on a regular basis and several of whom are actually nice and friendly people, that is on him. If you are awful to people you will end up alone. And then JC decided to respond to learning that the people he was a dick to every time he saw them (and, in LWJ and NHS’s cases, caused the death of someone they cared about) wanted nothing to do with him... by whining about how lonely he was as if that wasn’t largely his fault. Like, he lost his family and that’s awful, but he could have had friends to help him through his grief, and it’s his own damn fault that he doesn’t.

WWX’s life was miserable. He had plenty of friends, yeah, but he spent years on the streets after his parents died brutal deaths; was raised in a family where he was treated like a servant and a scapegoat; lost everything in an event he was blamed for despite having nothing to do with the attack; had to sacrifice his incredibly powerful golden core (thereby losing his primary means of defending himself while on the run and drastically shortening his lifespan) to keep his brother from letting himself die; was thrown into a corpse pit for three months where he had to create an entirely new and experimental (and as such incredibly dangerous) form of cultivation and probably resort to cannibalism just to survive; had to fight a war almost immediately after escaping; spent a... good portion of time (not sure how long exactly because the MDZS timeline is more a suggestion than an actual coherent timeline) being treated alternately as a tame pet or a rabid animal and having to pretend everything was just fine while everyone tried to either control him or remove him and his brother very obviously got increasingly resentful of his skill and power; had to abandon his home, his family, and everything he had left of his old life to save a bunch of innocent people while everyone, including his brother, acted like he’d gone mad for not wanting to let them die horribly; had to go back to the corpse pit he spent three months in because it was the only place where they might be safe; accidentally killed his brother-in-law due to losing control after being ambushed on the way to a celebration for his nephew that he was invited to by people he trusted, almost certainly making him wonder on at least some level if that was why he was invited; lost two members of his new family who he clearly loved because of said accidental murdering; learned their deaths were for nothing and, when he retaliated against the planned attack that shouldn’t have happened because that’s what WQ and WN gave their lives to prevent, saw his beloved sister die to save him; and, after all that, lost the rest of his new family to a siege on a civilian population led by his brother. And after all that, his response was... to destroy the incredibly dangerous weapon he’d made because he didn’t trust the sects to not destroy each other and themselves with it and kill himself rather than risk losing control again and hurting anyone else. In the novel too; I don’t doubt for a second that WWX planned on dying in that siege, even if he didn’t expect destroying the seal to do it.

Take a look at that paragraph. All those things that happened to WWX. And in the end, he was kind. He was so, so kind, and remains kind even after thirteen years of being dead. He would have been well within his rights to go all “Then let me be evil” on the sects, but every time he attacked them they struck first, and most of the serious damage he did happened as a direct result of losing control of his experimental and mostly unknown new cultivation, which is a real risk even with spiritual cultivation; NMJ probably would have happily killed everyone in Qinghe if the qi deviation hadn’t gotten to him first, given how easy it was for him to attack even his beloved little brother. Everything bad that happened to JC is on that list, pretty much. Everything that JC suffered WWX did too, with some variations in the details (and of course dead versus alone for the same period of time). JC had the advantage of a sect at his back and a high rank by virtue of his birth, while WWX’s position was entirely reliant on JFM and, later, JC. And yet some people insist that WWX’s trauma doesn’t excuse his actions but JC’s somehow does. Now, some people argue it’s different because WWX was a mass murderer. Yeah, well, JC’s a fucking serial killer, and he doesn’t have the excuse of losing control due to using resentful energy to cultivate and being attacked by everyone he’d ever known and trusted.

...I’ve kind of lost track of where I’m going with this. Short version: I very strongly disagree with anyone who insists WWX’s trauma doesn’t excuse his actions while bending over backwards to argue that JC’s trauma excuses his.

#well that got... long #and probably not super fun #i have Thoughts about this particular subject it seems #grapehate #asks #anon

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imdoingthismspaintadventure · 5 years ago

Text

Worm Interlude 2 -- In which two sisters clean up a street

There were very few things, in Victoria Dallon’s estimation, that were cooler than flying. The invisible forcefield that extended a few millimeters over her skin and clothes just made it better. The field kept the worst of the chill from touching her, but still let her feel the wind on her skin and in her hair. Bugs didn’t splat against her face like they did against car windshields, even when she was pushing eighty miles an hour.

Time for an interlude, it seems we will be getting these between arcs! From the point of view of different characters, to flesh out the world and the story. I always love when stories do that, put us in a point of view different from the main character. If done right, it adds so much richness to the setting.

It seems our interlude protagonist has the power of flight, plus some sort of force field that actively shields her against friction and particles. We learn this in the same paragraph where we also see how much she enjoys using her flight, so we both get characterization and powers at the same time. Nice!

Spotting her target, she whooped and plunged for the ground, gaining speed where anyone else would be slowing down. She hit the asphalt hard enough to crack it and send fragments of it into the air, touching ground with her knee and foot, one arm extended. She stayed in that kneeling position for just heartbeats, letting her platinum curls and the cape that was draped over one of her shoulders flutter in the wake of air that had followed her descent. She met the eyes of her quarry with a steely glare.

Superhero landing!

I would certainly be intimidated if she landed in front of me like that! She gives me lots of superhero vibes in terms of her overall alignment.

She’d practiced that landing for weeks to get it right.

Pfft. Okay she’s also a bit of a dork, and very human.

The man was a twenty something Caucasian with a shaved head, a dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, jeans and work boots. He took one look at her and bolted.

You, sir, look like an underling of someone, and the way he nope’d out of there also gave me mook vibes.

Victoria grinned as he disappeared down the far end of the alley. She rose from her kneeling position, dusted herself off and ran her fingers through her hair to tidy it. Then she raised herself a foot off the ground and flew after him at an easy forty five miles an hour.

Classic superman-like superspeed / flight / superendurance is such a nice power to have. I bet you feel like a god.

It didn’t take a minute to catch him, even with the head start she had given him. She flew just past him, grazing him. An instant later, she came to a dead stop, facing him. Again, the wind made for a dramatic flourish as it stirred her hair, her cape and the skirt of her costume.

She’s really theatric with all this, and I kinda love it. I feel like this guy is thoroughly outmatched.

“The woman you attacked was named Andrea Young,” she spoke.

The man looked over his shoulder, as if gauging his escape routes.

Grunt attacked a civilian and they sent the superhero cavalry to make him super regret it?

“Don’t even think about it, fugly,” she told him, “You know I’d catch you, and trust me, I’m already pissed off enough without you wasting my time.”

“I didn’t do anything,” the man snarled.

“Andrea Young!” Victoria raised her voice. As she shouted, she exercised her power. The man quailed as though she’d slapped him. “A black college student was beaten so badly she needed medical attention! Her teeth were knocked out! You’re trying to tell me that you, a skinhead with swollen knuckles, someone who was in the crowd watching paramedics arrive with an expression bordering on glee, you didn’t do anything!?”

Oh so he’s neonazi filth. Ugh.

I was already kinda unsympathetic to him from the start, but now he can choke.

Fuck his shit up, Victoria.

“I didn’t do nothing worth caring about,” he sneered. His bravado was tempered by a second look over his shoulder, as though he’d very much like to be elsewhere right that moment.

Fuck this guy. He’s also cowering like a little bitch and trying to look all brave in front of no one, like an idiot.

She flew forward, her fists catching him by the collar. For just a moment, she contemplated slamming him up against a wall. It would have been fitting and satisfying to shove him hard enough against the brick to crack it, then drop him into the dumpster that sat at the wall’s base.

Taunting a girl who can absolutely ruin his fucking life, maybe not his best idea.

He almost got literally dumpstered.

Instead, she pulled up a little, bringing the two of them to a stop. They were now just high enough above the ground that he’d feel uncomfortable with the height. The dumpster, mostly empty, was directly below him, but she doubted he was paying attention to anything but her.

Ah, threatening him with falling from great heights! The batman strat! Or one of them anyway.

“I think it’s a safe bet to say you’re a member of Empire Eighty-Eight,” she told him, meeting his eyes with a hard stare, “or at least, you’ve got some friends who are. So here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to either tell me everything the triple-E’s have been up to, or I’m going to break your arms and legs and then you’re going to tell me everything.”

Empire Eighty-Eight huh? Since the last time I heard the name, I’ve been informed about the 1488 dogwhistle, which I had never heard in spain. So yeah this guy is definitely part of some neonazi group, and is all around human garbage.

The group seems pretty big if it has a lot of unpowered mooks, kind of reminds me of Lung and his boys. I bet them and these guys wouldn’t really get along.

As she spoke, she ratcheted up her power. She knew it was working when he started squirming just to avoid her gaze.

“Fuck you, you can’t touch me. There’s laws against that shit,” he blustered, staring fixedly over one shoulder.

She turned up her power another notch. Her body thrummed with current – waves of energy that anyone in her presence would experience as an emotional charge of awe and admiration. For those with a reason to be afraid of her, it would be a feeling of raw intimidation instead.

Oh so she not only has superman-like powers! She also has an intimidation factor! That is fascinating. It makes her enemies afraid and everyone else feel awe at her presence. ...That sounds a little creepy if it influences normal people but I see how it can give a massive advantage against villains and criminals, in conjunction with her other powers!

“Last chance,” she warned him.

Unfortunately, fear affected everyone differently. For this particular asshole, it just made him dig in his heels and become obstinate. She could see it in his body language before he opened his mouth – this was the sort of guy who reacted to anything that spooked or unsettled him with an almost mindless refusal to bend.

“Lick my hairy, sweaty balls,” he snarled, before punctuating it with a spat, “Cunt.”

It makes sense that someone like him would get defiant in a moment like this. Still probably not the best judgement. Fear (even this artificial one) is usually there for a reason.

She threw him. Since she could bench press a cement mixer, though it was hard to balance something so large and unwieldy, even a casual toss on her part could get some good distance. He flew a good twenty five or thirty yards down the back road before hitting the asphalt, and rolled for another ten.

He was utterly for still for long enough that Victoria had begun to worry that he’d somehow snapped his neck or broken his spine as he’d rolled. She was relieved when he groaned and began to pull himself to his feet.

Damn, with a power like hers she really has to be careful to not accidentally kill someone. If she can throw a grown healthy adult like that, sending him flying across the street, she could just as easily end anyone who doesn’t have super-endurance.

I wonder if that is actually a problem in this world? Accidental manslaughter via a missuse of super-strength.

“Ready to talk?” she asked him, her voice carrying down the alley. She didn’t move forward from where she hovered in the air, but she did let herself drop closer to the ground.

Pressing one hand against his leg to support himself as he straightened up, he raised his other hand and flipped her the bird, then turned and began to limp down the alley.

....what is this guy even doing? She just yeeted your ass to the other side of the street! Since when is pissing dangerous superheroines a good idea??

What was this asshole thinking? That she would just let him go? That, what, she would just bend to his witless lack of self preservation? That she was helpless to do any real harm to him? To top it off, he was going to insult her and try to walk away?

....he IS probably counting on you being a “good guy”, yeah.

But by the way her internal thoughts are going, he may have made a liiitle mistake with all this.

“Screw you too,” she hissed through her teeth. Then she kicked the dumpster below her hard enough to send it flying down the little road. It rotated lazily through the air as it arced towards the retreating figure, the trajectory and rotation barely changing as it knocked him flat. It skidded to a halt three to five yards beyond him, the metal sides of the dumpster squealing and sparking as it scraped against the asphalt.

...did she just throw an entire dumpster on top of him? Like, as a projectile weapon?? Is this poor asshole still alive???

This time, he didn’t get up.

“Fuck,” she swore, “Fuckity fuck fuck.” She flew to him and checked for a pulse. She sighed, and then headed to the nearest street. She found the street address, grabbed her cell from her belt and dialed.

Oh fuck she might have gone and done it. Used excessive force and super-murdered a suspect. What even happens in cases like this, then?

She seemed to be panicking but then calmed down when she checked for a pulse, so he’s probably still alive, even if knocked out.

It seems to have spooked her enough to make a phone call though.

“Hey sis? Yeah, I found him. That’s, uh, sort of the problem. Yeah. Look, I’m sorr- ok, can we talk about this later? Yeah. I’m at Spayder and Rock, there’s this little road that runs behind the buildings. Downtownish, yeah. Yeah? Thanks.”

Victoria returned to the unconscious skinhead, checked his pulse, and listened intently for changes in his breathing. It took a very long five minutes for her sister to arrive.

“Again, Victoria?” the voice disturbed her from her contemplations.

She called her sister for help! Does her sister have superpowers too? Maybe some sort of healing or stasis power, so they can avoid him dying, if he’s in a really critical state?

Again, huh? Oof, is excessive force a thing with you Victoria? She might not be as “purely heroic” as I thought. Seeing a lot of gray here as well. Trigger-happy or reckless heroes can be VERY dangerous in certain settings.

“Use my codename, please,” Victoria told the girl. Her sister was as different from her as night was from day. Where Victoria was beautiful, tall, gorgeous, blonde, Amy was mousy. Victoria’s costume showed off her figure, with a white one-piece dress that came to mid-thigh (with shorts underneath) an over-the shoulder cape, high boots and a golden tiara with spikes radiating from it, vaguely reminiscent of the sun’s rays or the statue of liberty. Amy’s costume, by contrast, was only a shade away from being a burka. Amy wore a robe with a large hood and a scarf that covered the lower half of her face. The robe was alabaster white and had a medic’s red cross on the chest and the back.

Oh I like both of their designs a lot! And the contrast between them!

Victoria is a white and gold goddess with statue of liberty and/or divine motifs, which matches up with both her demeanor so far, and the power itself, especially the fear/adoration part.

Amy, on the other hand, reminds me of a final fantasy white mage, so the possibility of her being a healer is even higher (she even wears a red cross!). Also, just by visual design alone, she may be more introverted in comparison to the extroverted nature of her sister. She is like a star radiating light, while Amy is hiding herself with her clothes.

“Our identities are public,” Amy retorted, pushing the hood back and scarf down to reveal brown frizzy hair and a face with freckles spaced evenly across it.

“It’s the principle of the thing,” Victoria replied.

“You want to talk about principles, Glory Girl?” Amy asked, in the most sarcastic tone she could manage, “This is the sixth – sixth! – time you’ve nearly killed someone. That I know about!”

“I’m strong enough to lift a SUV over my head,” Victoria muttered, “It’s hard to hold back all the time.”

Ooh interesting! Ok so a couple of things:

1) Amy looks cute, with her frizzy hair and freckles, in comparison to her sister’s more traditionally “beautiful” look.

2)Their identities are public??. Sooo....is that a thing particular to them, or to a group they belong to?? Cause I don’t remember very well, but I think Armsmaster kept his identity secret, didn’t he??

It’s very interesting that there are superheroes with public identities! I suppose that turns them into celebrities, even in their private lives, but isn’t that dangerous? Aren’t there villains who would attack their homes or families?

3)It seems Glory Girl is indeed a bit sketchy with the way she uses her super-strength, having six close calls with killing someone just because of an excess of force. I wonder if she can learn to regulate just how hard she needs to hit, because that seems dangerous!

“I’m sure Carol would buy that line,” Amy said, making it clear in her tone she wasn’t, “But I know you better than anyone. If you’re having trouble holding back, the problem isn’t here -” she poked Victoria in the bicep. “It’s here-” she jabbed her sister in the forehead, hard. Victoria didn’t even blink.

“Look, can you just fix him?” Victoria pleaded.

“I’m thinking I shouldn’t,” Amy said, quietly.

“What?”

“There’s consequences, Vicky. If I help you now, what’s going to stop you from doing it again? I can call the paramedics. I know some good people from the hospital. They could probably fix him up alright.”

Seems Amy is fed up with her sister dodging responsabilities for her recklessness, and wants her to learn the consequences of her behaviour and hopefully excercise more caution. This also confirms that Amy is indeed some kind of healer. Also is Carol their mother or caretaker??

Hey, hey, hey,” Victoria said, “That’s not funny. He goes to the hospital, people ask questions.”

“Yeah, I’m well aware,” Amy said, her voice hushed.

“This isn’t, like, me getting grounded. I’d get pulled into court on charges of aggravated assault and battery. That doesn’t just fuck with me. It fucks with our family, all of New Wave. Everything we’ve struggled to build.”

On the other hand, facing the consequences could mean that their whole family takes the blame.

New Wave...it seems Amy and Victoria have a whole family of superheroes, like The Incredibles! Is New Wave’s gimmick that the identities are public? The fact that excessive force threatens the founding purpose of the group leads me to think that revealing their identities is an attempt to gain the trust of the general public.

Amy frowned and looked at the fallen man..

“I know you’re not keen on the superhero thing, but you’d really go that far? You’d do that to us? To me?”

Amy pointed a finger at her sister, “That’s not me. It’s not my fault we’re at this point. It’s you. You’re crossing the line, going too far. Which is exactly what people who criticize New Wave are scared of. We’re not government sponsored. We’re not protected or organized or regulated in the same way. Everyone knows who we are under our masks. That means we have to be accountable. The responsible thing for me to do, as a member of this team, is to let the paramedics take him, and let the law do as it sees fit.”

So, New Wave is not government sponsored, like the protectorate is!

On one hand, we have the Protectorate, which is a state-funded professional justice league, with secret identities and constumed antics and such.

On the other, we have New Wave, which is a freelance family of heroes with their identities public and emphasizing accountability and probably a more modern, refreshing approach to superheroing (which kinda goes with the new wave name)

I really like the world building we’ve got going on here. It doesn’t seem to be going that well if Victoria here nearly killed a crook due to an excessive use of force though. At least it seems Amy is more level-headed and wants her sis to also be more careful.

Victoria abruptly pulled Amy into a hug. Amy resisted for a moment, then let her arms go limp at her sides.

“This isn’t just a team, Ames,” Victoria told her, “We’re a family. We’re your family.”

Heh, what Victoria is pulling here is the exact sort of emotional manipulation that a spoiled family member pulls when trying to get away with something scot-free. They’ve got a sister dinamic, that’s for sure!

The man lying just a matter of feet away stirred, then groaned, long and loud.

“My adoptive family,” Amy mumbled into Victoria’s shoulder, “And stop trying to use your frigging power to make me all squee over how amazing you are. Doesn’t work. I’ve been exposed so long I’m immune.”

Oh wow, seems like Victoria was trying literal emotional manipulation by way of her powers, but Amy has been exposed for so long she’s inmmune. So.... one can build an inmmunity to that aspect of her power?

Also it’s a bit disturbing to think of Victoria using her emotional powers to make her family subtly like her more.

And Amy is adopted! She did look very different from Victoria, based on that description we got earlier.

“It hurts,” the man moaned.

“I’m not using my power, dumbass,” Victoria told Amy, letting her go, “I’m hugging my sister. My awesome, caring and merciful sister.”

The man whined, louder, “I can’t move. I feel cold.”

Amy frowned at Victoria, “I’ll heal him. But this is the last time.”

Victoria beamed, “Thank you.”

The bastard deserves it, but it’s kind of funny how nonchalant they are being with his continued pain in the background.

Seems Amy has finally caved-in to her demands and will heal this badly wounded piece of shit. (Victoria totally acts like a spoiled brat who broke a toy during all this, which is a bit terrifying with a power combination like hers)

Amy leaned over the man and touched her hand to his cheek, “Slingshot break to his ribs, fractured clavicle, broken mandible, broken scapula, fractured sternum, bruised lung, broken ulna, broken radius -“

“I get the point,” Victoria said.

“Do you?” Amy asked. Then she sighed, “I wasn’t even halfway down the list. This is going to take a little while. Sit?”

Victoria crossed her legs and assumed a sitting position, floating a half foot above the ground. Amy just knelt where she was and rested her hand on the man’s cheek. The tension went out of his body and he relaxed.

Holy shit, Victoria really pummeled him badly! I guess that’s what happens when a superwoman toys like that with a normal human.

Also Amy can analyze and diagnose what a person has wrong in their body with just a touch? And can remove all pain, also with a single touch? On top of some form of healing?

That is ...incredible. She could revolutionize the world of healthcare and be an incredible professional doctor! Just the analysis part of it alone! It’s just ...so good.

“How’s the woman? Andrea?”

“Better than ever, physically,” Amy replied, “I grew her new teeth, fixed everything from the bruising to the scrapes, and even gave her a head to toe tune-up. Physically, she’ll feel on top of the world, like she had been to a spa and had the best nutritionist, best fitness expert and the best doctor all looking after her for a straight month.”

This power is astonishingly good.

She (and other powers like hers) would save so many lives, just by doing normal medical work.

Can she only heal injuries like these, or can she also do things like grow half a person’s body back, or even make someone younger? The posibilities with her are endless!

“Good,” Victoria said.

“Mentally? Emotionally? It’s up to her to deal with the aftermath of a beating. I can’t affect the brain.”

“Well-” Victoria started to speak.

“Yeah, yeah. Not can’t. Won’t. It’s complicated and I don’t trust myself not to screw something up when I’m tampering with someone’s head. That’s it, that’s all.”

Well it seems she couldn’t cure dementia or parkinson’s disease or any of these blights on humankind. But she’s still amazing!

It’s very interesting to see that it’s not just bam, you’re healed, with her power. She has to actually perform the healing herself. So her power would be ...what? Body scan and manipulation? Organic manipulation? Using the inherent healing sistems of the body as a tool?

Victoria started to say something, then shut her mouth. Even if they weren’t related by blood, they were sisters. Only sisters could have these sorts of recurring arguments. They had gone through a dozen different variations on this argument before. As far as she was concerned, Amy was doing herself a disservice by not practicing using her powers on the brain. It was only a matter of time before her sister found herself in a situation where she needed to do some emergency brain surgery and found herself incapable. Amy, for her part, refused to even discuss it.

Victoria has a more reckless demeanor than her sister. It’s true that Amy being able to cure brain diseases would be incredible, but how would she practice? Would there need to be people used as basically experiments until she gets the hang of it? It seems it would require some not very good means.

Also, Amy does use her powers to do medical stuff it seems! That’s good. I wonder how much certain powers have benefitted humankind in this series.

She didn’t want to raise a sensitive issue when Amy was in the process of doing her a major favor. To change the subject, Victoria asked, “Is it cool if I question him?”

“Might as well,” Amy sighed.

Victoria tapped the man a few times on the forehead to get his attention. He could barely move his head, but his eyes lolled in her direction.

“Ready to answer my questions, or do me and my sister just walk away and leave you like this?”

“I… sue you, he gasped out, then managed an added, “Whore.”

“Try it. I’d just love to see a skinhead with a few broken bones go up against a superheroine whose mom just happens to be one of the best lawyers in Brockton Bay. You know her, right?”

“Brandish,” he said.

Hmm I feel like there is an ethical conversation to be had here. Both in ransoming the healing and in flaunting that they could get away with it because their mom is a lawyer.

Would the Protectorate be ok with doing something like this? Would the citizenship be ok with something like this?

Again, it could be argued that he’s a neonazi scumbag, but what about in more general cases? Or is getting information out of him instrumental in protecting the people and saving lives, and does that justify one’s actions?

Interesting questions to be had, all in all.

“That’s her name in costume. Normally she’s Carol Dallon. She’d kick your ass in court, believe me,” Victoria said. She believed it. What the thug didn’t understand was that even if he lost the case, the media circus that would be stirred up would do more damage than anything else. But she didn’t need to inform him of that. She asked him, “So do I get my sister to leave you as you are, or are you willing to trade some information for relief from months of incredible pain and a lifetime of arthritis and stiffness in your bones?”

So Carol is indeed their mother, and also the superheroine Brandish! ...I don’t have any idea what her powers are based on that name alone.

“And erectile dysfunction,” Amy said, just loud enough for the thug to hear her, “You fractured your ninth vertebra. That’s going to affect all nerve function in extremities below your waist. If I leave you like you are, your toes will always feel a little numb, and you’ll have a hell of a time getting it up, if you know what I mean.”

The skinhead’s eyes widened a fraction, “You’re fucking with me.”

“I have an honorary medical license,” Amy told him, her expression solemn, “I’m not allowed to fuck with you about stuff like that. Hippocratic oath.”

“Isn’t that ‘do no harm’?” the thug asked. Then he groaned, long, loud and with the slightest rattle in his breath, as she removed her hand from his body.

Okay I’m kinda enjoying the way they are messing with him, ethical questions aside. Amy going straight for the erectile dysfunction! And a version of the “If I was an undercover cop, I would be obligated to tell you” kind of gambit.

Would the removing the anesthetic hand to make him comply be considered torture? Hm.

“That’s just the first part of it, like how freedom of speech and the right to bear arms is just the first part of a very long constitution. It doesn’t look like he’s cooperating, Glory Girl. Should we go?”

“Fuck!” the man shouted, then winced, tenderly touching his side with one hand, “I’ll tell you. Please, just… do what you were doing. Touch me and make the pain go away, put me back together. Fix me?”

Amy touched him. He relaxed, and then he started talking.

Looks like they got him to talk! Not so cocky in the end, against these two.

“Empire Eighty-Eight is extending into the Docks on Kaiser’s orders. Lung’s in custody, and whatever happens, the ABB is weaker than it was. That means there’s territory for grabs, and the Empire sure ain’t making progress downtown.”

Seems like Taylor accidentaly created a power vacuum! Due to Lung no longer being there, the ABB is left much weaker and other gangs are rising up to the occasion.

Kaiser huh? That’s the leader of these neonazis? Named after german emperors, so it really fits.

“Why not?” Victoria asked him.

“This guy, Coil. Don’t know what his powers are, but he’s got a private army. Ex-military, all of ’em. At least fifty, Kaiser said, and every one of ’em has top notch gear. Their armor’s better than kevlar. You shoot ’em, they’re back up in a few seconds. ‘Least when you shoot a pig, you can be pretty sure you broke a few ribs. But that’s not the fucked up thing. These guys? They’ve got these lasers hooked up to the machine guns they carry around. If they don’t think bullets are doing it, or if they’re after people who are behind cover, they fire off these purple laser beams that can cut through steel. Tear through any cover you’re standing behind and burn through you too.”

More competition! In the same way that the ABB seems to have an asian theme, and the Empire are neo-nazis, these guys seem to be some sort of paramilitary militia armed to the teeth with high-tech gear, including ...laser weapons?? So these guys are less about superpowers and more about collective strength, tactics and formations? They sound awesome.

Coil makes me think about tesla coils, so maybe some electricity power to go along with the high-tech motif and weird technology?

“Yeah. I know about him. His methods get expensive,” Victoria said, “Top of the line soldiers, top of the line gear.”

The thug nodded weakly, “But even with money to burn, he’s fighting us over Downtown territories. Constant tug of war, neither of us making much headway. Been going on for months. So Kaiser thinks we should take the Docks now that the ABB are on the outs, gain some ground somewhere easier. Don’t know any more than that, as far as his plans.”

Seems this Coil group and the Empire are about equal in power, with the ABB being now weaker but maybe stronger than both of them previously?

“Who else is up to something? Faultline?”

“The bitch with the freaks in her crew? She’s a mercenary, different goals. But maybe. If she wanted to branch out, now would be the time to do it. With her rep, she’d even do alright.”

“Then who? There’s a power vacuum in the docks. Kaiser’s declared he wants to seize it, but I’m willing to bet he’s warned you about others making a play.”

Another new player! She’s a mercenary, with a bunch of ...freaks? Are these like mutants, where the powers change their appearance and they are discriminated against? Seems like an interesting group. Faultline.... maybe some earth or earthquake-related power?

The skinhead laughed, then winced, “Are you dense, girl? Everyone’s going to make a play. It’s not just the major gangs and teams that are looking for a slice of the pie, there. It’s everyone. The Docks are ripe for the taking. The location’s worth as much money as you’d get downtown. It’s the go to place if you want to buy black market. Sex, drugs, violence. And the locals are already used to paying protection money. It’s just a matter of changing who they pay to. The Docks are rich territory, and we’re talking the potential for a full scale fucking war over it.”

He looked up at the blond superheroine and laughed. Her lips set into a firm line.

Dear god Taylor what have you done? Now we have a full-scale gang war that could spread to the whole district thanks to your actions that day. You certainly caused a big splash!

It kinda reminds me of Doflamingo’s speech in One Piece, where there is a power vacuum that is going to make everyone fight in the near future, only that is much much more high scale than this. Still, what a way to change things.

He continued, “You want to know my guess? Empire Eighty Eight is going to take the biggest slice of the Docks, because we’re strong enough to. Coil’s going to stick his thumb in just to spite us, ABB is going to hold on to some. But you’re also going to have a bunch of the little guys trying to take something for themselves. Über and Leet, Circus, the Undersiders, Squealer, Trainwreck, Stain, others you’ve never heard of? They’re going to stake out their ground, and one of two things is going to happen. Either there’s war, in which case civilians get hurt and things get bad for you, or there’s alliances between the various teams and solo villains and shit gets even worse for you.”

Woaah a loot of even more new names! This is worldbuilding, the chapter!

Uber and Leet ...I think they vaguely mentioned them once..? But they apparently were small-fries

Circus is maybe a carnaval or clown-themed villain? Those are always ...fun. I expect a lot of circus gimmicks as their powerset.

The Undersiders are that group of totally innocent teens of which Taylor might or might not be a part of now, and might or might not be planning to eventually betray.

Squealer sounds ...weird. Maybe something animal-based?

Trainwreck maybe summons trains to crash against you. That seems too silly though. (Yukari-approved! )

Stain is obviously from Mha and I don’t know how he jumped to here. On a more serious note, I have no idea what he could be about.

All of these (including our undersiders) seem to be small timers, at least compared to the big three of the ABB, the Empire and the supersoldiers. And also Faultline, which even though she was a mercenary was considered high enough to be counted outside of the smaller ones.

We’re getting to know our underworld landscape here!

He broke into laughter yet again.

“Come on, Panacea,” Victoria said as she stood up, touched ground with her boots and brushed her skirt straight, “We’ve gotten enough.”

“You sure? I’m not done yet,” Amy told her.

“You fixed the bruises and scrapes, broken bones?” Everything that could get her in trouble, in other words.

“Yeah, but I didn’t fix everything,” Amy replied.

“Good enough,” Victoria decided.

“Hey!” the skinhead shouted, “The deal was you’d fix me if I talked! Did you fix my cock?” He tried to struggle to get to his feet, but his legs buckled under him, “Hey! I can’t fuckin’ walk! I’ll fucking sue you!”

Victoria’s expression changed in an instant, and her power flooded out, blindsiding the thug. For an instant, his eyes were like those of a panicked horse, all whites, rolling around, unfocused. She grabbed him by the shirt collar, lifted him up and growled into his ear, her voice just above a whisper, “Try it. My sister just healed you… most of you, with a touch. Did you ever wonder what else she could do? Ever think, maybe, she could break you just as easily? Or change the color of your skin, you racist fuck? I’ll tell you this, I’m not half as scary as my little sister is.”

Seems the skinhead was still being a pest faking not being cured and Victoria had enough. Damn she can be scary, and that’s aside from the ability to literally make him feel fear. I think part of the scary factor to her is that she could very easily break you and she doesn’t really have that much impulse control. Imagine facing down someone like that and thanks to her power having that fear you feel towards her amplified until she is the worst thing in your world.

And that all pales in comparison to her sister. Oh god I hadn’t considered that application of her power! She has organic manipulation, not healing. Healing is just what she chooses to use her power for! She could unmake you with just her continued touch, or give you any sort of illness or deformity. She has one of the greatest and scariest powers so far.

She let him go. He collapsed in a heap on the ground.

As the two sisters walked away, Victoria pulled her cell phone out of a pouch on her belt with her free hand. Turning to Amy, she said, “Thank you.”

“Play safe, Victoria. I can’t bring people back from the dead, and once you’ve gone that far…”

“I’ll be good. I’ll be better,” Victoria promised as she dialed with one hand. She put the phone to her ear, “Hello? Emergency services? Requesting special line. New Wave, Glory Girl. Incapacitated criminal for you to pick up, no powers. No, no rush, I can hold.”

Seems this situation concluded with a minor big problem averted. Glory Girl really should be grateful for the free healer she has to get her out of her excessive use of force! They are cleaning nazis from the streets so they aren’t bad or anything, they are the good guys, just a bit too dangerous sometimes!

Looking over her shoulder, Victoria noted the thug, still floundering and half-crawling, “He’s not going to get up?”

“He’ll be numb from the waist down for another three hours. His left arm will be iffy for about that long, too, so he’s not going to move unless he can drag himself somewhere with just one limb. He’ll also have numb toes for a good month or so, too,” Amy smiled.

“You didn’t actually…”

“No. Nothing was broken, and I didn’t screw up anything, beyond a temporary numbness. But he doesn’t know that. Fear and doubt will complete the effect, and the suggestion becomes a self fulfilling prophecy.”

“Amy!” Victoria laughed, hugging her sister with one arm, “Weren’t you just saying you weren’t going to mess with people’s heads?”

Heh, I really like Amy. And Victoria too, to a degree. She’s a lil bit spoiled, but I imagine getting such awesome powers at a young age warps your perception of things.

We set up a lot of things this chapter, and it seems our protagonist may have destabilized all of the city with her first night in costume! She’s certainly off to a good start!

#Worm #worm parahumans #parahumans liveblog #liveblog #arc 2 #worm interlude 2 #wildbow #parahumans

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howling-harpy · 5 years ago

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Shiftytab from the pov of smokey? Idk if this is specific enough so maybe after the war but while theyre still in austria? If that makes sense? Thanks so much :)

Word count: 1764 A/N: Whoops? This got long. I have feelings about this pairing and I haven’t yet exactly figured out what, but it’s a lot. Thank you for the prompt, it turned out to be a really inspiring one!

Even though Walter had a lot of work to do, lying in a hospital bed was still a bore. He hadn’t even counted the hours spent staring at the ceiling while squeezing a rubber ball in his hand and passing it from one hand to the other, and between those boring hours were the long, painful ones he spent shuffling his feet and lifting himself from the chair and hopping to sit on a table and then back to the chair. Still, he couldn’t say he was happy when a familiar face took the bed next to him.

Shifty looked almost exactly like Walter remembered him from Bastogne, albeit tan instead of pale, and he was certain that wasn’t a good thing. The poor boy looked downright miserable, didn’t say a word and stared into the ceiling in much the same way Walter remembered from his own early recovering days. Nurse Crane gave Shifty’s head a motherly pat that he didn’t react to before turning to Walter. “He was in quite the automobile accident, poor lad. I talked the doctor into puttin him here since you were in the same unit, weren’t you?” “Yeah, we know each other,” Walter said. He hadn’t yet figured if he was happy to see Shifty, but knew that she had done the right thing bringing him to him. “How bad is it?” “A broken arm and a concussion, but the worst is the broken pelvis. He’s going to have to stay very still for a long time, and he’s most likely to receive more surgery. I thought you’d keep him focused on the recovery and maybe cheer him up a bit,” nurse Crane explained while filling Shifty’s chart. “He’s on a quite big dose of morphine for now, but do try chatting a bit.” “Sure,” Walter agreed, and the nurse left them with a bright smile. Walter turned his attention back to Shifty. On the second look he indeed looked more than simply depressed, he looked drugged. He had a tube attached in the back of his hand and it was steadily feeding him fluid from a bag, a hefty amount of morphine no doubt with it. “Hey, Shifty,” Walter called, trying to get his attention, “hey, remember me? It’s Smokey. How did a pretty thing like you end up in a dump like this, huh?” There was no response. Not even an eye twitched to signal that any of Walter’s words had registered to Shifty, his gaze dull and his blinking slow like he was nearly asleep. Walter kept talking anyway. “Hey, it’s gonna be okay, buddy. The worst thing here is the boredom, but that guys like you and I can handle, right? You just got to be a bit patient and your body’s going to take care of itself. Mine sure does. See, I can move my arms, even lift my legs a bit. I’m going to walk out of here sometime soon, and you’re coming with me, you hear me?” Shifty might have, might have not. He gave no indication to either direction, but Walter talked anyway. For the first four days there Shifty drifted in and out of consciousness, and nurses kept a close eye on his vitals. With his concussion they were worried about his constant sleepiness and the first twenty-four hours Shifty wasn’t allowed to sleep more than three hours in a row, but after that they wrote his sleepiness off as a by-product of his heavy pain medication. Nurses kept a close eye on his blood pressure and breathing, but otherwise let him be. Sure, they fed him, cleaned him and asked him about the pain whenever he was awake, but Shifty didn’t react much to anything. Walter kept talking to him, and even though it was never certain if he heard him or not, talking to a familiar person eased his own loneliness and boredom too. After a week Walter got a letter. He had heard from the guys regularly of late, Lipton writing him the most, but this time he got a letter from Talbert. It wasn’t that surprising, they were good buddies and Walter was certain they’d see each other back home, but this time the letter was short and, there was no better word to it, odd. “Dear Smokey,

I hope you’re well or at least better than last time, keeping up with the recovery, flirting with that old nurse of your ward and so on and so on. You’re in our thoughts, I’m rooting for you, the usual. I’m actually writing to you to ask a huge favor. No, you can’t ask, no, I won’t explain, at least not now and not in a letter, but please, if you’re a real friend of mine, do this. Alright? Shifty got in a pretty bad accident, I heard. I don’t know anything else except that it was bad, like really bad, and I also know that he’s been taken to the same hospital as you. Now, the favor that I’m asking of you is this: The next paragraph is for Shifty, and you gotta tell him, but don’t ask anything. Not me and not Shifty, okay? Here we go: Shifty, I’m glad you’re alive. You’ll be okay, and I need you to know that whatever it is, no matter how bad or permanent, I don’t care. You’re still the same person, and the most important person too. It can’t be so bad that it would scare me, as long as you’re still you inside. Just take care of yourself, you’re in my thoughts. And also, I swear and cross my heart, there are no girls. I’m gonna write more soon. Okay, that’s it. Just get that to Shifty and make sure he understands, and I’ll be in your debt. Regards, Floyd Talbert” It was a curious letter, even for Talbert who had a habit of scribbling down whatever and sending it off without much of a thought. Walter sensed there was a lot under the surface there, something he didn’t know but what tickled his appetite for gossip, and the only thing that kept him from asking was that the only person he could ask was Shifty, and Shifty was… Well. Shifty was Shifty. Of course Walter did as he was asked to and read the letter out loud when Shifty seemed more awake than unconscious, but other than opening his eyes and flicking his gaze around a bit Shifty didn’t react to Walter’s words. Not until in the middle of the night, when Walter was brought out of his slumber by an unusual noise. It was a soft, irregular noise, very quiet but out of place enough to disturb him, and when he woke up enough he realized that Shifty was crying. “Hey…” Walter started carefully, “hey, Shift, what’s wrong?” It was almost a full minute of little sniffles and thick gulping sounds and shivering breaths before Shifty got himself together enough to answer: “I want Floyd,” he whimpered. Walter shrugged with sympathy. “Yeah, you’re not alone with that.” But Shifty shook his head and brought his healthy hand to wipe his face. Even though the room was dark, the streetlamps gave enough light inside through the blinds that Walter could see the tears still running. “I should’ve stayed with him. It’s my fault… All my fault, I was so stupid, so selfish…” Shifty rambled on in a bitter tone. “Woah, woah, nothing’s your fault, kid. You’re alright, it was an accident, a whole lot of simple bad luck, that’s all!” Walter hurried to interrupt him before he cursed himself deeper into the swamp of despair. Again Shifty shook his head, more firmly this time. “No… I was… selfish. I should’ve stayed, but I… I miss home so much… So I left.” Walter gave a deep sigh. “Shifty, everyone misses home. Anyone would have taken an opportunity to go home, and no one blames you for it.” “I think God’s punishing me,” Shifty whispered grimly. Even Walter was speechless for a second. “For missing home?” “No, for leaving,” Shifty continued in an anxious mutter, “I used to… I used to think it was wrong. That I would be punished for… For other things, with Floyd. I ran away because I was weak, and scared, and selfish, and I wanted to see my mama. And now God’s punishing me for being a selfish coward.” Walter knew he had heard something very profound just then and he couldn’t just fall back on his usual humorous way of dealing with it. He felt like a priest at a confession and the role was so unfitting for his personality that he was at complete loss of what to do. Desperately Walter thought what Lipton would say to something like that and not for the first time wished he was there to help him. But he wasn’t, so he had to make do by himself. “Shifty, I’m sure everyone has regrets. I don’t think a single one of us leaves here without wishing that he’d done something differently. I certainly wish I hadn’t made that cup of coffee and that I had stayed lower in my foxhole. There’s no one so good and perfect that he’ll make it through without regrets. And if anyone came up to me and said that he’s totally fine and did everything right, I’d call him a lunatic.” Shifty was still sniffling, but Walter hoped that the lack of words meant that he was listening. “No one hates you or blames you,” Walter went on, “and if you’re worried about Tab, don’t be. He wrote to me so that I could tell you that. You hear me? He wrote to me for no other reason than to tell you that he thinks you’re alright no matter what. Now I don’t know about God, but I know Floyd Talbert well enough that I can tell you he won’t take shit from anyone, not even the man upstairs.” That got a small hiccup from Shifty that Walter hoped was a sound of amusement. “I’m not gonna ask what you think you ought to be punished for, but I can honestly say that I don’t think you deserve it. You’re a right on guy, Shifty,” Walter said and meant it. In the dark room, Walter could see Shifty wiping away his tears and heard his breathing slowly evening out. He was clearly calming down, thank heaven, as the pits of despair during the small hours were deep ones and Floyd Talbert wasn’t there to smile and pull him up.

#band of brothers #shiftytab #band of brothers fanfic #Shifty #Gordon #Talbert #mun ficci

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rivalsforlife · 5 years ago

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"Eventually Miles said, “Do you want to know when it happened, when I realized it, or when I came to terms with it?” / “You have three answers?” / “Technically four. Don’t be a hypocrite, you rejected me even though you were in love with me —”" and the rest of the scene if you want to haha, not a lot fits in the ask box :P

Alright!! I’ll do... most of the scene haha, there is one part of the scene I really want to point out, so I’ll once again put this under a keep reading so I don’t take up all this space on people’s dashboards...

Okay!

So basically this part of the scene existed because... I kind of wanted to touch on Miles’ perspective throughout this entire fic as well as a handful of headcanons for Miles and also so that I could fit in a bunch of narumitsu fluff in there somewhere, since my notes for this chapter were pretty much to just shove as much fluff as possible to make up for the rest of it.

In some ways I’m kind of regretting talking about Miles’ perspective because that reduces some of my flexibility for possibly rewriting this fic entirely from Miles’ perspective OR the handful of jumbled scenes that could potentially form a sequel someday... but honestly writing has been like pulling teeth lately so who knows if that will happen at all. Either way I’m sure I’ll be able to get it to work somehow. (Also kind of... directly pointing out what Miles was feeling when it probably would’ve been a better decision to leave it implicit but WHATEVER TOO LATE NOW --)

“When did you fall in love with me?”

Miles didn’t say anything, and Phoenix might have thought he fell asleep again if it weren’t for his breathing. It didn’t line up with what Phoenix had learned from experience, when Miles fell asleep.

Eventually Miles said, “Do you want to know when it happened, when I realized it, or when I came to terms with it?”

“You have three answers?”

when you’re Miles Edgeworth emotions are waaaaay more complicated than they need to be huh. Since this scene was just Dumping Ground For My Headcanons they for the most part tend to line up with what I think most of the time, buuut I might go into more detail a little later.

“Technically four. Don’t be a hypocrite, you rejected me even though you were in love with me —”

Phoenix shushed him by clapping a hand over his mouth, except he missed in the dark and slapped Miles’ nose instead. “Whoops! Sorry. Okay. Give me all four.”

aww see they can laugh about it now like Miles didn’t cry for several hours after the rejection :’)

“I should have guessed,” Miles sighed. He used the hand not currently squished against his side by Phoenix’s entire body to hold Phoenix’s hand, guiding it down from his face and holding it against his chest.

This is me trying to find a way to write affection in a way that isn’t totally awkward... uh so basicallyyyy I am not a very affectionate person and I don’t think Miles is particularly big on physical affection most of the time, so when I write him trying to express affection I typically go for subtler things... like hand-holding and such, because I think even that much would be a pretty big deal for him when it wouldn’t be for some other people.

Pretty much every time in this fic he initiates any form of physical touch (which is pretty often because he is attempting to Court Phoenix (ba dum tshhh)) it’s something that he’s deliberately thought through and deliberately initiated, as opposed to like... Phoenix who does it more unconsciously. (And of course not all of Miles’ initiation of physical affection is strictly romantic, I like to headcanon him making an effort towards platonic physical affection as well towards his friends + found family members... just putting this here to cover my bases so no one thinks every time Miles puts his hand on someone’s shoulder he’s flirting with them haha that’s NOT what I was going for, more that he’s aware that lots of people enjoy physical contact and see that as a way of expressing affection, and he’s trying to get better at expressing affection, and Phoenix happens to be one of those people he is expressing affection to, in both the platonic and romantic sense.)

(That was a very long paragraph for literally one sentence about affection hahahaha...)

“Well, I am fairly sure I had a crush on you in fourth grade.”

“No, you didn’t. I had a crush on you in fourth grade, I changed my whole career for you because of it. You were in love with your law books.”

“I told you I ‘liked’ you and you started talking about girls.”

“O-Okay, sorry I didn’t know about bisexuality when I was nine, give me a break here.”

I waver back and forth on whether Miles had a little baby crush on Phoenix in fourth grade or not, I guess when I wrote this I was feeling that way! Anyways this line is referencing the flashback part of chapter 3:

“Do you like anyone, Miles?”

Miles blinked. “I like you.”

Phoenix’s face reddened. “N-No, I meant like-like. You know, like a girl.”

Miles looked at the ground, and his face was red as well.

this fic would have been over with SO MUCH FASTER if Phoenix actually knew what he meant there --

My interpretation is pretty much always that Phoenix had a little baby crush on Miles in fourth grade, but it wasn’t until he got older that he realized that it was a crush and not just pure idolization -- which was definitely part of it too, and I could probably write thousands of words on how baby Phoenix’s idolization crush on Miles when he was younger shaped some of their interactions throughout the trilogy but I’m not going to get into that now. I thiiink I said in this fic somewhere that Phoenix didn’t realize he was bi until he was in his teens, so baby Phoenix just thought that Miles was His Best Friend Who He Wants To Hang Out With All The Time And Hold Hands With And If Miles Were A Girl Phoenix Would Want To Kiss Him, and at some point adult Phoenix remembers this train of thought and goes “... wait.”

As for Miles, in the universe of this fic he figures out that he’s gay pretty young, probably largely influenced by Larry talking constantly about girls while Miles complains to his father “I don’t know why Larry’s talking about how pretty [girl of the day] is, I think Phoenix has a nicer smile” while Gregory tries to pretend his laughter is him choking on his dinner. And I think Gregory was an excellent father who loved and supported his son, and probably talked about it a bit with him and made sure Miles knew he was always loved and supported no matter what and --

Anyways, there’s that.

The next paragraphs are mostly them talking about the situations where Miles did fall in love with Phoenix (Turnabout Goodbyes) and then realized it (after Farewell, My Turnabout/ when Phoenix fell off the bridge) then kind of... repressed it until post-canon because he didn’t think he was ready yet and they weren’t really in the right place. I don’t have much to say about it because it’s all pretty straightforward stuff...

Then Phoenix deflects Miles asking about when he fell in love, because Phoenix is still struggling a bit with expressing his emotions this way haha. Also because he was in denial for a really long time so he can’t quite pinpoint exact moments aside from “the moment Miles stood up for him during the class trial”, but much like Miles he’s probably had multiple realizations of love throughout his life.

My personal headcanons though is that Phoenix genuinely thought he was just helping out a friend throughout the trilogy... and then sometime during disbarment, possibly during one of those Europe trips, he realizes “oh crap I loved him the whole time”. Obviously in this fic Phoenix doesn’t realize he’s in love with Miles until the cherry blossom petals scene at the end of chapter 4 and then can’t quite articulate that feeling as love rather than more general attraction until the end of chapter 8 after reading Trucy’s note. (Where the last psyche-lock breaks!)

What I DO want to talk about though is this line at the end of the scene:

“It doesn’t matter when I realized it,” Phoenix whispered. “What matters most is that we’re here, together, now.”

No one’s pointed it out so idk if it was too subtle or too obvious that it didn’t need pointing out, but it’s a callback to this line in chapter 4:

Edgeworth stared at him with an unreadable expression, almost curious. “Well, you don’t have to say anything,” he said. “What matters most is that I can be here with you now.”

It’s a very slight difference in the last part of the dialogue, but an important one!!

I had an interesting conversation with my best friend a while ago... long story short her brother was in a relationship for a long time with this one woman then they broke up and now he’s engaged to a different woman, and they dated for a shorter time than the first. And my friend says that she and her family knew that this was a different relationship and that she was “the one” because the way they talked about doing things was different -- more of a “we’re going to do [x]” rather than “she and I are going to do [x]”. This probably isn’t really a real thing so like... don’t use it to judge relationships around you... but I thought it was pretty neat.

So in the conversation in chapter 4, Miles says “What matters most is that I can be here with you now”, which is still like exceptionally romantic, but it still sees the two of them as separate entities -- whereas Phoenix in chapter 9 saying “What matters most is that we’re here, together, now” sort of phrases the two of them as more of a unit. ... not that they’re not still separate entities with their own lives outside of just each other of course but you know. you know. just having some fun with sentences!

Anyways that’s what I really wanted to talk about... I hope you enjoyed!!

#dvd commentary meme #the catch-up game #asks

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omgrachwrites · 5 years ago

Text

Schooled (Bucky Barnes)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/OC

Summary: After the passing of Ava’s father she starts acting out which drives her right into the arms of one gorgeous Professor Barnes.

Warnings: fluff, lil bit of angst, mentions of dr*gs

Words: 2260

A/N: Can you guys believe I’ve posted twice in one week?! I don’t think I’ve ever typed the word ‘Shakespeare’ so many times and on Shakespeare day as well, its pretty fitting! I hope you guys all enjoy this, please let me know what you think and if you would like to be tagged just shoot me an ask! I love you guys very much! xxx

Part Four - Halloween

Bucky sighed to himself as again he marked another unsatisfactory essay, he couldn’t believe those essays were written by the students in his class. The first few were okay but barely, the next couple had just been plain rubbish and the essay that he had marked before this one was downright plagiarised. He looked up at his students who were working on their projects with the exception of Ava and Loki; they were passing notes to one another. Bucky thought that he should say something but he didn’t want to single out Ava. Again. He remembered how embarrassing that was from his own college days.

He raked a hand through his fluffy hair as he looked back down at the pile of essays that he should have marked weeks ago. Now was the perfect time to get the marking done before the work load piled up. Turning over the top essay he saw that it was another one on Shakespeare. He was pissed off with himself, why the hell did he put Shakespeare on the syllabus? The last essay he had marked on Shakespeare there was an author’s note at the bottom of the page, explaining why they thought that Shakespeare was a ‘cool guy’.

Bucky was sure that being a ‘cool guy’ wasn’t very high on Shakespeare’s list of what he wanted to leave behind. Massaging his temples, Bucky looked at the name that was at the top of the essay and saw that Loki had written it. Loki had transferred from Cambridge with a glowing recommendation and now it was Bucky’s chance to see if he lived up to his expectations.

From the first paragraph of the essay Bucky was hooked, it was probably one of the most engaging essays that he’d read about Shakespeare. It was plainly obvious that Loki was passionate about Shakespeare and that was what Bucky wanted in a student, somebody with a bit of passion. By the time that Bucky had reached the end of the essay it was obvious that this was the highest mark on a paper so far. It was so good that Bucky would have even allowed an author’s note about how cool Shakespeare was and it would have even made him laugh.

“Mr Odinson,” Bucky started and Loki looked up with wide eyes, Ava also looked up at him, “I really enjoyed your essay about Shakespeare, it’s the best one I’ve read in a while.”

Loki looked slightly confused and hesitant but he smiled all the same, “well, thank you very much sir,” Ava nudged Loki’s arm and gave him the most dazzling smile that Bucky had to look away.

“Right guys and gals, get going and please enjoy your weekend. Next time we’ll be picking up Shakespeare, Hamlet to be exact,” his announcement was met by an influx of groans but Loki looked excited, “oh, don’t sound so glum, according to Mr Owens, William Shakespeare was a cool guy,” he grinned and there came a whoop of agreement.

“Yes! Right on sir!” Bucky laughed and dismissed the class; Ava shot him a faint smile on her way out.

As Ava walked out, Steve was walking in and did a double take when he saw Ava, “wait, what the fuck?” Steve mouthed and he backtracked himself into the hallway.

Groaning, Bucky stood up and followed his friend out of the lecture hall, “Steve come on! Don’t,” Bucky pleaded but it was too late.

“Ava?” Steve called out, way to keep a low profile Bucky thought, Ava turned around at the mention of her name.

“Steve? Is that you?” she laughed and narrowed her eyes, “I’d ask what you’re doing here but obviously by the look of those shorts you’re the gym coach,” she gestured at his outfit, causing Steve’s ears to go red, “is Sam here too? Maybe we could have ourselves a lovely little reunion,” she rolled her eyes at Bucky.

“I thought that you had graduated university,” Steve said slowly, pointing out the obvious and he looked from Ava to Bucky and Bucky shrugged nonchalantly.

“Yeah Steve, so did I, I mean that is what you told us right Ava? Or at least that’s what you implied,” Bucky knew that he was acting like a child but it was hard for him not to feel offended. Especially when she looked so beautiful in ripped blue jeans and an oversized green sweater.

“Oh my god Bucky, all I did was lie to you! I didn’t realise that it was a crime, maybe your pretty face kept you safe from women lying to you but we’ve all got to start somewhere,” she walked up to him, “so please, stop treating me like a fucking war criminal, alright?” she snarled, jabbing him in the chest.

This girl certainly was a far cry from the woman that he’d met in Greece, “it was good to see you though Steve, really it was,” she looked around the corridor to make sure no one was coming before she stood up on her tiptoes and kissed Steve’s cheek. She shot an angry look at Bucky as she walked off down the hallway.

Steve looked amused and was about to say something but Bucky shot him a venomous look that made him shut up. Bucky sighed and the two best friends walked off down the hallway together and into the car park.

“So,” Steve started, deigning it safe to speak as they squeezed themselves into Steve’s tiny vintage car, “tough break huh, where do you want to go for lunch?”

Bucky was starting to get a migraine from all the marking he had done and the frustrating encounter that he’d had with Ava in the hallway, “yes Steve, it is a tough break, I must have been especially wicked in a past life to deserve this, and honestly, I don’t mind. As long as they sell Irish coffee, I need some sort of alcohol,” he sighed, rubbing his temples.

Steve nodded as he started the car and when he spoke, his voice sounded a little weird and high pitched, “I know the perfect place, I’ll call Sam on the way and see if he’s free to meet us.”

About ten minutes later Steve was pulling up outside a little café, it was absolutely packed inside so Steve and Bucky sat outside – it was a pretty nice day – to wait for Sam. When Sam turned up there were a group of girls that giggled and swooned at Sam as he walked to Steve and Bucky’s table, he was still in his firefighter uniform. Bucky rolled his eyes and grinned as Sam sat down opposite him, he couldn’t see why Sam just couldn’t get changed into regular clothes before he came out on his lunch break.

“Sam, you could have at least gotten changed, you’re making the rest of us look bad,” Bucky chuckled and Sam shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Sorry Buck, I just can’t help it if the ladies love me,” Sam winked, “how are you and that incredibly hot TA?”

Bucky shrugged, shaking his head as he nervously began to rip up the napkin that was in front of him, “that incredibly hot TA and I can be nothing but good bed mates,” Sam was saved from replying because at that moment the waiter came to their table to take their order.

“Just three coffees please man,” Sam said to the kid who nodded and scrawled it down in his notebook.

“Make one Irish,” Bucky smiled and turned to look at Steve who looked crestfallen which was pretty out of character, he was staring at his shoes. Bucky was about to ask him what the matter was but a lightbulb went on in his head and he smirked, “oh my god. It’s here isn’t it? She works here,” at Bucky’s words Steve’s head whipped up and a dark flush spread out across his cheeks which confirmed Bucky’s suspicions.

“Who works here?” Sam frowned, on the wrong page from everybody else and Steve gave Bucky a threatening look which Bucky promptly ignored.

“The girl he’s got a crush on, I hear she’s an English beauty,” Bucky chuckled and clapped Steve on the shoulder, “I just can’t understand why you won’t ask her out.”

Steve looked at his best friend like he’d just suggested the most outrageous plan, “what the hell are you talking about Buck? I can’t just ask her out, a woman as beautiful as her must have a boyfriend. She could do a lot better than me anyhow,” Steve shrugged, he’d been nervous around girls ever since high school.

“Seriously man, our local bar is throwing an early Halloween party tonight. How about you invite her to that?” Sam suggested reasonably and Steve rolled his eyes shaking his head.

“It’s three weeks till Halloween; it’s completely ridiculous celebrating it this early!”

“Yeah, that wasn’t really my point,” Sam sighed, “but never mind,” Steve fell silent almost instantly when their coffees were brought out.

They were brought out by a pretty woman with short dark hair and by the look on Steve’s face this was the woman that he’d been lusting after. Steve was hopeless when he was around women that he liked, that was made plainly obvious as Steve wouldn’t say a word to the waitress when she came outside to collect cups and plates. She even smiled at him once which caused Steve to completely lose his head and spill coffee all down himself. When Steve went to the restroom Buck wrote Steve’s name and number down on the bill.

“He’ll thank me one day,” Bucky said to a smirking Sam.

——————————–

Ava walked out of her room, her heels clacking on the hardwood floor and she stood in front of Loki, turning on the spot, “what do you think about my sort of costume?” she giggled, she was going to an early Halloween party with Wanda and MJ tonight. She had decided to go as a princess but she made her outfit casual so it could be seen as normal party attire.

Loki leaned back on the couch, raising an eyebrow appreciatively as he looked her up and down, “you look fantastic.”

Ava giggled and flushed slightly at the compliment, “are you sure that you won’t come? It won’t be the same without you.”

“I might come later on but if I don’t, have a wonderful night love and stay safe,” he smiled and Ava nodded, blowing him a kiss before she headed out of the door.

Ava met MJ and Wanda at the bar and Wanda held up a sandwich bag with cookies in the shape of ghosts inside, “they’ve got pot in them,” she giggled, during the first three weeks of their final year Wanda had taken up a new hobby, “senior year of college is fantastic!”

“Maybe later Wand,” Ava giggled, shaking her head, “do you girls want some cocktails then?”

Soon enough the three girls – after one too many cocktails – were dancing in the middle of the room, drinks in hand. They’d also had a little nibble of Wanda’s homemade pot cookies but they weren’t really giving any effects at the moment.

“I still can’t believe that Bucky is your goddamn professor!” MJ shouted down Ava’s ear as she sucked her iced cocktail off the stirrer. Ava giggled, playing with the ends of her hair, not getting a chance to reply as Wanda spoke up.

“Are you going to start sleeping with him again though?” she asked and Ava shook her head, too much had happened between them.

“No, I’ll get us some more cocktails shall I?” she didn’t wait for an answer before she walked over to the bar, desperately wanting to get away from the conversation. While she was at the bar she felt a hand on the small of her back, she turned to see that it was Loki. He looked so handsome. He’d sprayed his curly blonde hair black and he was dressed in Victorian attire.

“Loki! You came!” she giggled and gave him a hug; he chuckled as he kissed the top of her head.

“Are you drunk?” he asked.

“Loki,” she gasped playfully, “however did you guess?”

“Well Miss Stark, your cheeks are perfectly rosy from the liquor and you look undeniably beautiful,” Ava giggled at his words and gave the gorgeous boy another hug. Over his shoulder she saw Steve – with a beautiful woman – Sam and Bucky. Bucky had some beautiful blonde perched on his knee. Despite herself, Ava couldn’t look away.

Loki pulled away from the hug and followed Ava’s line of sight, “ah, do you fancy Professor Barnes?“ he smirked.

“Something like that,” Ava thought there was no point in lying about it; she was still attracted to Bucky.

“And, he’s looking this way, how about we give him a show?” he winked and Ava nodded, wondering what he could mean.

In a flash Loki had her in his arms, leaning her back slightly, “I hope this doesn’t make things awkward between us,” he murmured before kissing her. She was pleasantly surprised but only for a second before she kissed him back, running her fingers through his thick curls. Loki grunted into the kiss as Ava pushed up against him before pulling away and the pair turned to look at Bucky.

The woman was now sitting beside him instead of on his knee and he was looking at Ava and Loki with a mingled look of amusement and perhaps something else, Ava couldn’t be entirely sure.

——————————–

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@void-imaginations @theonelittleone @leclerc-stan @thejemersoninferno @allthingswildareshy @mikariell95 @charles11700 @writingkeepsmewhole @lovely-geek @white-wolf-buckaroo @goodolbucky @rosemoonmist

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crowsent · 5 years ago

Text

AUgust 2020: College AU

Prompt given by @augustwritingchallenge

Summary: Percival Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski de Rolo the III gets peer-pressured into going to a party and meets someone.

Pairing: Minor Perc’ahlia

Characters: Scanlan, Percy, Vex’ahlia

Word Count: 3180

CW: N/A

Notes: the tumblr version is unformatted, no italics, no bold, nothing. for that reason, i highly recommend you to read the ao3 version instead so yall get that sweet sweet tone difference.

AO3 Link: HERE

Let it be known that Percival Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski de Rolo the III was three more unnecessarily complicated essays away from trudging downstairs into the campus basement where a supposed “demon” dwells to bargain his soul away for but a day of having a clear head for once. The migraine seemed to be permanent. A persistent, obdurate nuisance that’s making his head spin and his eyes see two laptops with furiously typed half-finished assignments on the screen. Well, it was either the cause of the migraine, or it meant that Percy needed to get new glasses.

Or, according to his roommate, one Scanlan Shorthalt, all Percy needed was, “A day off.”

Rooming with Scanlan meant that Percy had experienced more than his fair share of having to skulk to the library, cafeteria, or, God forbid, being forced to wait outside their dorm room whenever Scanlan deigned to bring back a “friend.” More often than not, he had to spend more time turning down Scanlan’s many offers to “unwind” than on actually working on his assignments. Whether it be countless invitations to various parties Percy had no intention of attending, or simply skipping class and laying about with nary a care in the world, roll a couple blunts and allow the feeling to sweep him away. Let the thoughts drift. Stop existing for just a moment.

And though Percy had always turned Scanlan down without so much as a beat of hesitation, perhaps this once time was a rare moment of Scanlan being right for once. Perhaps Percy was working himself to death and maybe it was time for him to stop burning the midnight oil on an essay he was sure his professors merely gave a cursory glance at.

Scanlan swung an arm around the bedpost of his bed, sheets unmade with some of it pooling on the floor. He held a nonchalant pose even as he gave Percy a rather convincing look. “Come on. You’ve been working like a madman for hours! All work and no play makes Percy very grumpy and I, for one, don’t want to see bitchy Percy ever again.”

With another mournful look at his laptop screen, at the paragraphs dancing in his vision, Percy sighed and removed his glasses to rub the headache from his temples. “I have been rather tetchy, haven’t I?” Scanlan made various noises with meanings that might have ranged from “Yes,” to “Fucking duh,” but Percy chose to give him the benefit of doubt. With a sigh of defeat, Percy saved what little work he managed to finish and shut his laptop.

As soon as the screen made a soft ‘click,’ Scanlan let out a loud yell and pumped his fist up in the air in victory. “Finally! I was kind of thinking that you were some kind of robot.” It was the loudest thing Percy had ever had the misfortune of hearing, and he was quite sure that his migraine worsened even more at the sound of Scanlan’s voice. “Okay. I have the perfect idea for you to roll y0our shoulders a bit. Relieve all the tension penetrating your body.”

“Wording, Scanlan.”

Scanlan ignored him. “Just relax and allow yourself to experience everything that college has to offer. A couple of smokes, women, men, bad song choices and spiked drinks.”

“You’re inviting me to a party aren’t yo-”

“I’m inviting you to the best damn party you will ever be invited to,” Scanlan assured. There was fire in his eyes. Granted, Scanlan grew spirited whenever trying to cajole Percy into a party but there was sincerity behind his enthusiasm. “I know you rich kids get invited to all sorts of shit with three-piece suits and butlers with silver trays following after like lost puppies but Percy. Percival. Perc. There aren’t any fountains that shit gold or anything, but come on. If there’s ever a single party that you go to in your college career, let it be this one.”

“I really don’t think-”

“There probably won’t even be that much alcohol and drugs in it. It’ll be rated PG-mostly-13 as far as college parties go.” Scanlan had moved on from his bedside perch and had instead elected to encroach upon Percy’s space, giving his best attempt at puppy dog eyes. “There won’t even be horny assholes humping each other on the couch this time! Hopefully. Probably.”

“Scanlan.”

“Cassandra might be there, I don’t know, but Pike will definitely be there, and I’m the one planning all this for my friends and I’d really like for you to meet them so pretty please Percival Frankenstein Van Helsing Cleopatra de Rolo the Fourth will you please attend just one party to break from your perfect honour roll student life? It’s a birthday party if that helps so it won’t be as wild and crazy as the others. There will even be masks and shit because my other friends are dramatic little shits and I love them to bits and I really want you to meet them all and you don’t even have to suffer the mortal ordeal of being known so please? Please?”

“Oh for goodness’ sake, you win, Scanlan.” Another whoop and a cheer, somehow louder this time, if it was even possible, coupled with a hug that Percy only very slightly recoiled from. “I will attend, with a mask, but do not expect me to stay long.”

“Trust me my friend,” said Scanlan, pulling away with the brightest and widest grin Percy had ever seen from him, “after meeting them, you’ll want to stay.”

Percy doubted it. It had been years now since meeting the Briarwoods, but strangers still made him wary. He couldn’t bear to crush the hope in Scanlan’s eyes though, and resigned himself to an unpleasant night with people he had no intention of talking to ever again once the party was over. Well, once he left. It was going to be one of those attendances where Percy stayed just long enough to be polite. As soon as he could, he planned on booking it right back to his and Scanlan’s dorm room.

If he was already in the room, then maybe, Scanlan would have the decency to bring a potential ‘friend’ somewhere else. (The couches in the common space in the dorm were terribly uncomfortable.) Percy glanced at the clock in the room. Then to his closet, the racks and racks of somewhat formal clothing from a habit he never managed to kick. To the box he knew he kept hidden on the floor, further camouflaged by articles of clothing that don’t fit anymore. Perhaps it would be odd to bring a leather crow-like mask with goggles for eyes to a party, but then again, there was no way in heaven, hell, or any other planes that could possibly exist, that Percy would ever purchase a mask for an event he didn’t even want to attend.

Besides, store-bought masks might fall and slip. His mask won’t.

“I’m going to make some last minute prep for the party. Hang on.” Scanlan hurriedly scribbled an address down in his notebook, tore the scrap of paper off, and handed it to Percy. “Right here. A walk from campus. Starts at seven, don’t be late, see you!”

Before Percy could say anything, Scanlan was out the door, mission seemingly accomplished. He probably only returned to the dorm just so he can invite/cajole/bully Percy into attending his friend’s birthday party. Scanlan even neglected to mention the names of the friends he so wanted Percy to meet.

With a few more hours ‘til Percy has to pretend to socialise at this party, he got up out of his chair, dug out the box from the depths of his closet, and rooted out his mask. For a moment, he did nothing but stare at it.

Foreign and familiar at the same time. A distant echo of the past with a voice that only grew louder and louder the longer he held his mask. It had been years since he had last looked at it, let alone felt the tough material with his own fingers. The glass of the goggles had cracked in places, and the straps would surely no longer fit his head. But he had time, and upon closer inspection at the box itself, it seemed that Percy had subconsciously packed his leatherworking tools, along with more than enough stray pieces of metal, glass, and leather to fashion this mask into something more appropriate for a party.

The migraine still has not gone away, and with every second that passes, Percy gets closer to formulating that plan to sell his soul just to get the pulsing to stop, and he really should get some rest, but leatherworking isn’t work to him. It was relaxing. Freeing. Certainly more than any party would ever do for him. And with Scanlan gone, Percy had the chance to do some work in peace. He cleared his desk, gathered his tools and set to work.

“Percy?” The mask Scanlan chose covered only the lower half of his face. A smooth porcelain-like cover. With night cresting around the corner, and the cheap street lamps offering little to no illumination, (because public funding was… not particularly the best in this area) Percy couldn’t quite tell what Scanlan’s mask was made of. It fit him though. Even in the dim light, there were purple swirls that curled near the edges.

Scanlan nudged him. “Hello? Earth to Percy. Please be Percy. It would be so awkward if I was talking to not Percy.”

“Yes, Scanlan. Hello.” Percy adjusted his mask once more. It was strapped securely on his face, with buckles that would prevent any college party-goer that had one too many drinks from tugging the mask down his face.

Scanlan reached up to tap the shiny metal bits Percy managed to attach to the mask and make it look less plain. The nail of Scanlan’s finger made a soft sound as it met metal. “Huh.” Scanlan nodded and crossed his arms. “Look at you Mr. Overachiever. I thought you were just going to bring a plastic mask and be done with it.”

Percy reached up to push his glasses up his nose, only to hit the metal-plated beak of his mask. Right. The goggles were fixed, mostly, but his prescription had been altered slightly now. Scanlan looked a little blurry. “Did you honestly expect me to half-ass dramatics?” Still, with the mask on, no one could tell that Percy would be squinting for the entire night.

“Should have expected as much from the guy with fifty-thousand names.” Scanlan beckoned him over, towards a building flashing with lights and brimming with people. Pink and purple streamers hung down from the front doors, with some gold accents for flavour. “I’ll introduce you to my friends. Oh, and congratulate Vex and Vax happy birthday yeah?”

He had no idea who those were, but Percy assented. He had to shout the closer they got to the building. The music was tasteful, for a party, but it was unbearably loud. The migraine, which had subsided somewhat in the hours of silence Percy spent working on the mask, had begun to surface again. Still, he gave his word, and a de Rolo never breaks his word.

Scanlan, bless him, tried his best ot be heard over the music. Percy even tried to lean down to hear him better. All he caught was, “... nice mask… saw Cassandra…” and then, much clearer than anything else, “PIKE’S HERE!”

Now, Scanlan was a friend, possibly Percy’s only friend in the odd two years he’s been a student in Emon. None but Scanlan had the moxy and resolve to continuously track Percy down and whittle his walls little by little to form a fierce friendship with him. Percy would fight dragons for Scanlan if need be. But, he thinks with great respect mixed with even greater resignation and a little bit of frustration and regret; Scanlan packs up all logic and inhibitions and manners into a suitcase whenever he saw Pike, and then defenestrated that suitcase as he bolted for her.

Indeed, with the occasional flash of bright light in the building, Percy saw Scanlan’s form rushing over to the side of a pretty woman with pale hair and a plain light blue mask. He could see the laughter in Scanlan’s shoulders from so far away as he and the woman, Pike, talked about things too far from Percy’s earshot.

Now he was simply alone, in a crowded room full of masked strangers with pulsing lights and too-loud music and Percy quickly took off into a corner, doing mental arithmetic with every step to count down the minutes he’d have to spend in this party he never really wanted to go to.

Mercifully, he found a punch table, several bowls lined up with various liquids. He can’t really drink anything in this mask, but he might as well look like he’s mingling with the crowd and whatnot. Percy grabbed a red plastic cup, chucked most of its contents into a potted plant, and leaned his back against a wall, looking out into the sea of people undulating their bodies with the rhythm of the music, and did his best to look like he wanted to be here.

Save the migraine and the lingering whispers in the back of his head about assignments due, the change of pace was refreshing. Annoying, but refreshing. And lacked the social obligations Percy feared he’d have to fulfill when he first came here. People saw him leaning against the wall and assumed that he was merely taking a break from the festivities or awaiting someone. It was peaceful, in a way.

That is, until a woman with an elegant blue mask marched to the punch table, grabbed two cups, downed both, and grabbed a third and joined Percy, leaning on the wall herself, body slightly angled to face him. Percy angled himself as well to face her, to be polite. The mask covered the upper half of her face, with feathers sticking out and up from one side. It matched her silvery blue dress quite well.

“Do you have a sibling?” she asked without preamble, staring into her cup.

Percy instinctively glanced about the room, trying to look for the matching shock of white hair of his sister, whom Scanlan stated might be here. “Yes, a sister,” he answered idly, if a bit sullenly as he found that she was not in attendance. “Though I’m afraid she didn’t join us this evening. A shame too, she would have made for better conversation.”

“Well, at least you don’t have to watch your sister abandon a conversation with you to trip over words with her crush,” said she. She downed her drink in one go. “Honestly, it’s not even the ‘being ignored mid-conversation’ bit that’s bothering me. It’s the pining! It’s the tripping over his own two feet! My brother is a rogue of a man who stole dad’s credit card so he can throw a couple parties and buy some new shit so I don’t have to spend a cent but have him stand in front of Keyleth and he suddenly forgets every language he’s ever known!”

Percy had no idea who this woman was talking about, but a childhood of etiquette lessons compelled him to nod. He wondered what it would feel like, to have Cassandra be so taken with someone in the romantic sense. Just thinking about it felt odd. “Well, I’ve never had the fortune -or misfortune, apparently- to know that feeling, but I can somewhat relate.” The woman gave him a look that clearly meant that she’d lap up any distraction at the moment. Percy would take a distraction just about this time, too. It would certainly make time pass quicker until he could say that he’s attended and make a beeline back to the dorms. “I was peer-pressured into attending this party by a friend, and then I had to watch that friend leave me to fend for myself so he could unsuccessfully flirt with a woman he likes. And then I’d have to listen to him pine all day when he stumbles back into our dorm room with the scent of so much alcohol on his shirt he could be safely classified as a fire hazard.”

The woman snorted and raised her empty cup in the air. “If I had anything in this cup right now, I’d toast to our shit luck.”

Percy raised his cup as well. “I also have nothing in my cup, as drinking with this mask on is terribly inconvenient, but I can toast to that.”

They tapped their cups together, the woman squinting at Percy, finally, finally getting a good look at him. “Did- did you make your mask?”

“I did.” Again, he tried to adjust his glasses, and again, he hit nothing but the beak of his mask. “Well, I made it quite a few years back, but it seems that attempting to get through Professor Groon’s dreadful history essay requirements had… sparked some of my lost creativity. Fixed a couple of things here and there, re-adjusted the straps-”

“Oh God!” she exclaimed. “I haven’t finished the essay yet.”

Neither had Percy. Seeing as he was in the middle of a party, he’d resigned himself to having to rush it in the morning. Again. “I have to admit, I’m more concerned about Professor Groon’s reaction to me not submitting the assignment than I am with taking the hit to my grades.”

She laughed again. Clearly, whatever that punch is had a kick to it that was only just now starting to take effect. “He is an intimidating man, isn’t he?”

Percy hummed in agreement. Professor Groon made a mountain seem small in comparison. “Dear God, yes. And he never seems to blink.”

“Never!” the woman laughed in agreement. “It is such a relief to hear someone else notice that too. I thought I was going mad, uh…?”

Percival Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski de Rolo the III. “Please call me Percy.”

“Wonderful to meet you dear. My name is Vex’ahlia.” She smiled at him from under her mask, face just a little bit red from the punch. The pulsing lights made the braid draped over her shoulder seem to shine. Her hand stretched delicately out towards him.

“It’s nice to meet you, Percy.”

Percy took her hand in his and returned her smile.

He had no idea what possessed him to do so. Perhaps it was her disarming smile that seemed to knock his legs out from under him, or perhaps it was the way her eyes seemed to glow as they locked onto his, maybe it was even the migraine, throwing all common sense onto the ground. But rather than shake her hand, as he would have done in any other circumstance, Percy bent down just a tad and kissed the back of her hand.

“The pleasure is all mine.”

Perhaps he can stand to linger here a few hours more.

#crowsas writes #critical role

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