#because it's the one correct list and no i am not taking any questions

[letoasai]

Will work for food ~ part 2

Part 1 - Master list

Tim was anxious which wasn’t an emotion he often put into use. Even on a bad day he was calculating, overly prepared, and usually ran on caffeine. He was a young genius and a hell of a detective, but nerves probably didn’t care about his resume or personality quirks. 

He rubbed his thumb against the folded piece of paper kept hidden in his pocket. He’d examined it in the batcave but it held no clues of note. It was just a normal sheet of paper, and the ink could have been a pen from any local corner store. No DNA. No fingerprints. All the same, he kept it out of sight in public. 

Tim had been antsy about summoning Phantom, mostly because he felt like he was disrespectfully late. When he’d first laid eyes on the living form of the Ghost King, he’d felt a familiar ache. Neglect. He didn’t know if the king had neglected himself, or if the blame lay at someone else's feet, but he just couldn’t stand it. 

He’d offered food and company in an instant, the words popping out of his mouth before he could think them through. Despite that, he didn’t regret the offer. He could have done without the teasing from his siblings and teammates, but he didn’t regret the offer once. 

His only remorse was with the clean up efforts. The Infinite creature, Vortex, had left quite the destruction in his wake. Even with many extended members of the League assisting with clean up, it took ages. Search and rescues were active and humanitarian groups had arrived to offer aid but some things couldn’t be done in a weekend. 

The bats returning to Gotham didn’t offer much in the way of a break either. A Scarecrow outbreak with his fear toxin. Three different gangs in the middle of a turf war. A weapons smuggling ring being uncovered… It was one thing after another for a minute. 

When all was said and done it had been nearly two months before Tim had the opportunity to keep his promise. He was in his civvies, standing at the mouth of an alleyway across from a little italian place that looked cheap but was actually the best tasting, most authentic italian place in all of Gotham. Little hole in the wall places often were the best. 

The problem now was his ability to overthink things. Would he summon the king in a glow of green that would light up the street like a beacon? Would he arrive in his ghostly form, crown hovering above his hooded head? 

Phantom looked human enough but was he? Did he come from Earth originally? There were plenty of aliens that looked human. It would be rude to assume… 

What name did he use? Did he need to go full title? Why didn’t he ask more questions when he had the chance?

“King Phantom.” Tim muttered, deciding to just go for it. He still clutched the paper sigil out of sight. “Uh, Ghost King Phantom. King of the Infinite Realm. Um… Or was it High King…” 

“Just Phantom is fine.” 

Tim tensed, all of his hair standing on end at the voice directly behind him in the alley. He hadn’t made a sound but he needed to actively work to exhale and turn around to face his guest. There had been zero indication of his arrival, and he was thankfully, in his living form. 

He was in jeans and an over sized hoodie. Tim could just barely make out a faded NASA written in the front. That was a point in the direction of him possibly being a human from Earth. He wore shoes this time, beat up looking kicks that had seen better days. His hood was also drawn over his head, likely to hide his bony appearance. Tim did spy the tail of his braid over his shoulder though, his hair black to further prove he was in his living form. 

“You…scared the hell out of me.” Tim said, smiling after another hard exhale. “I am sorry it took so long, your Highness.” 

“Phantom.” He corrected, looking around the street and taking it all in. Tim could clock him making note of the turns down the street and the buildings with fire escapes even with his hood up. People just had certain body language when casing an area. “I figured it would be a while, if you summoned me at all. I was not going to hold you to a whim, Red Robin.” 

“I said i would…” Tim muttered. “Uh, it’s Tim, out of uniform. If you don’t mind.” 

“Tim.” He repeated. That softness to his voice remained, and honestly, Tim liked the cadence of it. He liked it as much as he was sure he never wanted to hear Phantom raise his voice. “I understand.” He hesitated only a beat. “You can call me Danny. Phantom is probably a silly thing to call someone in a city like this.” 

“Not if it’s your name.” 

“Danny is okay.” He said, and for whatever reason, Tim noticed now how he kept his hands in his pockets, likely to hide them too. Frail, skeletal looking hands would just frighten some people. “Food? For a favor?” 

“No favor involved. I invited you out.” Tim said. “I mean, maybe we can chat about stuff but you aren’t obligated to answer or anything.” 

Phantom…Danny nodded, shuffling for a moment and looking around again. The height of the buildings seemed to be a mild interest of his. “Where are we eating?” 

“Well, if you like Italian, we’re walking across the street.” He thought pasta and breads would be both filling and flavorful. It would also be something easily packed up for Danny to take with him. 

“I’ll eat anything.” Danny informed him. “I have no preferences after all this time.” He hesitated. “Or maybe i need to rediscover them, but anything will be fine.” 

“Let’s… let’s go then.” Tim said, walking with Danny at his side. He’d made a reservation which wasn’t strictly necessary at such a small place but it gave him the option of reserving a corner table to offer them a little more privacy. 

They walked in, the hostess greeting them with a smile before leading them to their table and leaving them with bread, water, and menus. There were a few other full tables but it wasn’t packed the way it would be in the evening. 

Danny kept his hood up, but it was Gotham and no one questioned the decision. They just left him in peace to not start a conflict with someone who wasn’t causing any trouble. He also kept his hands out of sight until the hostess had left. He sipped the water once and broke off only a little piece of the bread. He buttered it and ate on it while flipping open the menu. 

Tim didn’t know if he was reading the English or Italian parts of the menu but it didn’t matter. Being fluent in reading an Earth language was another check mark for this being his place of origin. 

“Can i…” Tim hummed, keeping in mind that he was speaking with royalty and act a little less like Bruce interrogating a suspect. “Can i ask a couple questions?” 

Danny looked up at him, Tim only barely able to make out some of his features passed the unnatural shadows his hood provided. “Sure.” 

Tim smiled, not even bothering with the menu since he knew what he was getting. “You’re the King of a realm, but was Earth your place of origin?” 

“Yes, but not this Earth.” 

Dimensions! Tim filed that away for later. “You can travel to any of them?” 

“Within reason. Yes. I’m old, but not that old yet. Only eight or nine decades.” He tore another small piece of bread to eat. Tim assumed he was pacing himself. “They call me a baby Ancient still.” 

“That’s cool…” Tim muttered. “Are there many other Earths?” 

“The answer to that would never satisfy you.” Danny said softly. “Trust me. I am the Ancient of Space and i’m hardly satisfied with it.” 

There was a new fact for Tim to latch on. “What’s the-” He stopped when the waitress appeared. Both of them ordered, and Tim was certain he’d end up ordering more halfway through the meal so Danny could take more home with him.  

When the menus were taken and the waitress left again, Tim continued. “What’s the difference between being an Ancient of Space and being the Ghost King.” 

“When i died, or half died, it was my fate to one day become the Ancient of Space. I am that regardless. I won the title of Ghost King.” 

Tim dragged a hand down his face. “That’s…. Endlessly fascinating. I have so many questions.” He didn’t even know how to touch ‘half died’ yet. 

Danny hummed once and fiddled with the end of his braid. “Do i get to ask questions too?” 

“Of course.” 

Danny leaned forward, sipping at his water again. “This Earth has super heroes. That’s interesting. Mine didn’t. How long have you been a hero?” 

Tim nodded, figuring that would be the direction the questions would have wandered towards. They were far enough away from everyone in the restaurant that he didn’t worry about being heard. The music playing in the background also helped a great deal. 

“Hero might be a debate depending on who you ask. In Gotham we’re considered vigilanties. I first suited up at thirteen but it was really more like fourteen after a great deal of training.” 

Danny was quiet for a moment. “And how old are you now? I have trouble telling ages these days…” 

“Eighteen.” Tim said. 

“Young.” Danny muttered. “I was young too. Fourteen when i became the bridge. Sixteen before i really understood what it meant.” 

“The bridge?” 

“Balance. The living and the dead.” 

Tim huffed softly. “You wear a lot of hats, don’t you?”  

Danny made a quiet noise, and it took Tim a beat longer than normal to realize he was laughing. “I do, i wish i didn’t most of the time. It’s fine though.” 

“Just fine?” Tim asked after a beat. He knew a little about expectations and high standards that could weigh you down–both his own standards and other peoples. 

Danny nodded, one of his hands resting on the other. “I’ve seen things. Good things. Bad things. Things that will never happen. Things that have. It’s better i have certain powers because i have no desire to use them.” 

Aah. Tim understood that. “People who want too much power are dangerous.” 

“Exactly.” 

“The power of ruling an entire realm…” 

“Exactly.” 

Tim heaved a sigh. “Damn.” Maybe he should ask something less intense. “Did you enjoy the food we gave you last time? It was just some fast food but there was some worry it wasn’t good enough.” 

“It was great.” Danny said and he sounded sincere. “Nostalgic. It took me a few days to eat all of it. I know the Infinite Realm’s reputation, and it is a warranted reputation, but i’m… hard to offend. Little things are just little things.” 

“I’ll put them at ease then.” 

Danny was quiet for a moment, the silence not an oppressive one. “What is the difference between a hero and a vigilante?” 

“How people perceive us, i guess. Superman will always be seen as a hero. Wholesome and valiant and all that. Things in Gotham are altogether… shadier. Being a vigilante isn’t exactly legal and while we have our boundaries, we break the law all the time.” Tim said. They covered their own tracks well but it was fortunate that no one looked too closely at their activities. 

It didn’t bother Tim when he knew his reasons were still good. 

Danny made a thoughtful kind of noise. “I’m willing to bet Superman’s business isn’t purely legal either. This seems like a nice Earth though, despite whatever troubles you have.” 

“Some hero work is sanctioned by the government so it’s a fine line. Any of it could be argued.” Tim explained, and that was something Danny seemed to find fascinating. 

They paused their conversation again when the waitress appeared with their food, and Tim put in a second order for them to take when they left. The eyes Tim could feel on him told him that Danny already knew what they were for. 

He could hear Danny softly inhale and exhale as he looked at the plate in front of him that came accompanied with salad. He likely wouldn’t be able to eat even a fraction of it but the way he looked at it…. made Tim realize that he could see Danny’s face more clearly. The shadows that obscured his face from his hood had receded. He was still gaunt, but he eyed the food with so much joy. 

The first bite of –non fast food– food nearly seemed to overwhelm him in a good way. 

“You know,” Tim swung hard to change subjects. “We can do a bit of a food tour every time i summon you for lunch. Pizza. Chinese. Barbeque. There’s a great taco truck. We could get something homemade.” 

“You cook?” 

“Haa. No.” Tim said seriously. “But Al… my grandpa is an amazing cook and he seemed to think trading food for world saving services was very sensible but he was appalled that we offered you cheap fries and burgers. He’d honestly love to cook for you.” 

Danny smiled, this shy little look that shouldn’t have fit someone with the title of Ghost King but it sure fit Danny. “That could be nice. Decent home cooked meals are kind of mythological to me.” 

Tim nodded once, and knew better than to ask directly. “I didn’t have a very cuddly upbringing either. There was a lot of take-out involved.” 

“Your food ever come back to life and try to eat you instead?” Danny asked and Tim just stared. 

“I can’t…tell if that’s a real question or if you’re messing with me.” 

Danny smiled and was that a hint of fangs? “Dead serious.” 

Time groaned. “No, no you are a king. You are not making puns.” 

“Thinking i’m too mature for puns is a grave mistake.” Danny said without hesitation. 

“Noo.” Tim groaned, lips upturned into a smile. His brothers could never know about this. Dick would start a pun off and Jason’s morbid sense of humor about his own death…. Ugh, it would be bad. 

It did bring up the interesting question of Danny’s age. He said he’d been alive for decades but how did he mature. Was he still a teenager? Did he age slowly? Asking not only sounded like a bad idea, but Raven and Zatanna had both made sure he knew it was a question to not ask. 

They chatted, they ate, or well, Tim ate. Danny ate a bite every few minutes and looked thrilled about it but he was slowing down. Tim was looking forward to Danny being able to eat more with every visit. 

He flagged down the waitress, gesturing for a box and got a thumbs up in return. 

“You can take it with you.” Tim said when Danny was giving him a look. “It might be a couple days before i can call you again and this way you’ll have enough to eat every day.” 

“I can’t deny that.” Danny said. “You don’t have to keep summoning me.”

“I promised you lunches.” Tim said firmly. “And you said it yourself, you should eat more and spend more time in a living realm. You may as well take advantage of being summoned for food.” 

“Hm…” Danny played with the end of his braid again. “You do make a compelling argument. It’s nice to talk to someone without it being preceded by a brawl.” 

Tim stared, “What?” 

Danny just looked amused. “I’ll explain to you etiquette in the Infinite Realm sometime.” 

“Yeah?” 

The waitress returned with boxes for Danny to pack up his meal and the empty dishes were whisked away to make more room on the table while they waited for their to-go orders. 

They were almost startled when a second waitress reappeared with a few little dishes before they could begin speaking again. Everything was set in the middle of the table, presumably for them to share. There was a piece of white peach tart, a bowl of strawberry gelato, and a slice of frozen chocolate chip meringata. 

“Um…” Tim blinked. “We didn’t-”

The waitress chuckled. “It was ordered for you by another patron. Please enjoy.” She set down another set of utensils for them and walked away. 

Danny made a small sound in his throat. “Well i was full but how could i say no to a couple more bites…” 

“Wait.” Tim said, gaze subtly shifting around the room. Maybe he was trained to be paranoid, but it usually served him well. What he found almost instantly had his eye twitching. 

Not even halfway across the room sat a poorly disgusted Dick wearing large sunglasses, a fedora, and the world's least convincing mustache. When he saw Tim looking and grinned and raised his own wine glass. 

“I gotta kill my brother…” 

Danny sputtered out a laugh, so genuinely amused that Tim could definitely see his fangs as he laughed.

“That would make him my problem.” Danny pointed out, reaching for a spoon to try the gelato first. 

“I’m not seeing your point.” Tim said, delighted by Danny’s teasing. It was a rookie mistake to think one of his siblings wouldn’t find out about this. An absolute blunder that he hadn’t noticed Dick walking in after them at all. He’d never live it down. 

“Guess i’ll have to be more careful next time.” He added. 

Danny hummed again and seemed to have a fondness for the cold dessert. “I could always invite you to my realm sometime.” 

“Cool.” Tim said instantly. Ha, let them try to follow him then…

[fixyourwritinghabits]

How to Handle Critique

I’ve got to admit, I wish I was one of those beatific saints that could take critique with a grateful smile. Instead, I am constantly suppressing a horrible little gremlin at the back of my head hissing at anything from legit plot critiques to grammar corrections. I’m well aware I used that comma wrong, GOD.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m very good at suppressing that gremlin, but the little bastard is still there. He exists because even though your brain knows critique can help, it also knows you worked damn hard on the thing being critiqued, and goddamnit, isn’t that enough???

Anyway, here are some tips on getting that gremlin to shut the hell up.

It is okay to be upset. You worked really hard on this thing, and now someone’s gone and pointed out all the things that suck about it. You cannot control how you feel about one thing or another, but you can allow yourself to feel that way and let it pass through you. Let your critique partner you’re taking time to reflect on it, and go for a walk. Do something else. Let those feelings pass through you before you get back to the page.

Give yourself time. Don’t feel like you need to correct things right away (unless they are minimal grammar tweaks). Some pieces of feedback might take awhile to sink in, especially when you’ve got a whole novel to wrestle through. Set it aside, think about something else for a week or so, and get back to it when you’ve reset.

Get a second opinion and/or ducky friend. It can be very hard to tell the difference between good and bad feedback sometimes. Someone who means very well could give feedback that just doesn’t work for you, and someone who doesn’t give two shits could have spotted that fatal flaw right away. You can bring in a real third party or just make use of the old rubber duck technique, where you talk through the issue with a friend or a Naruto poster telling you to Believe it. Working it out out-loud is a really effective technique to figure out what needs fixing and what doesn’t.

Guide critique-givers toward the feedback you want. I, a person who prefers straightforward fantasy and sci-fi, cannot give the fine-tooth points on how a romance novel should work. However, I can give feedback on what works for me and what doesn’t story-wise. Giving your beta reader or critique partner a list of questions to look for will help avoid vague feedback based on how they don’t like the genre. There are many ways to do this, but consider using the following as a base to tailor your own questions:

Did you get a good sense of the setting? Did the worldbuilding make sense to you?

Was this story clear? Where there any parts that seemed confusing?

What characters did you like and why? What characters didn’t you like?

Did any parts of the story feel slow or repetitive?

Did the beginning draw you in? Did the middle keep you engaged? Did the ending feel satisfying?

If you were to write [insert plot point here], what would you do differently?

Again, all of the above questions are up for debate depending on your goal, but we are rarely taught how to give good feedback, and a guided feedback session would work better for you than a free-for-all.

Figure out what kind of advice doesn’t work for you. It is really hard to give good feedback sometimes, even with guided questions. It can also be really hard to figure out why some feedback doesn’t click with you, and that’s a matter of digging deep to figure out what you really want. You may lean toward characters who are horrible fuck-ups, but your partner prefers more steady characters who always strive to do the right thing. Your characters, therefore, may never click with this person, no matter how much they want to help you. And that’s okay! Figuring out where your critique partner is coming from can help you figure out what parts of their feedback isn’t working for you. Sometimes the only thing you can do is thank them and move on, but you might also want to guide them to focus more on the plot or the worldbuilding when looking at your work.

And last, don’t focus on grammar. It’s great if they point that out, but if you end up changing everything, trying to fix that first is a waste of your time. Grammar tweaks last, plot points first.

And, I dunno, give yourself a treat to get that horrible little mind gremlin something else to focus on. Sometimes patting those bad feelings on the head and sending them away can help way more than ignoring them.

[prettieinpink]

CREATING A STUDY SCHEDULE/ROUTINE 

PLANNING/SCHEDULING

LIST YOUR ACADEMIC STRENGTHS AND WEAKNESSES. This is so you can allocate time accordingly and avoid wasting any time. 

PRIORITISE ANY SUBJECTS. These may be subjects that will help you in your future career or just a subject you especially want a good grade in. Anything for these subjects then becomes the most important on your to-do list.

DIVIDE TIME EACH DAY. Not all days you are going to be able to sit down at your desk at the same time. Instead, according to your energy levels and planned activities, divide your time.

E.g I have cheerleading after school and I'm going to be so tired, so I’ll do my studying in the morning instead. 

ESTABLISH BREAKS. Depending on how long you can study for, place a suitable break in between. This helps make studying more productive, but only if your breaks are. 

CREATING

USE YOUR TIMETABLE. On days you don’t have a specific subject, dedicate more time to that one. 

CONSIDER YOUR LEARNING STYLE. This helps to be a bit more specific when creating it, instead of winging it and just doing anything. Having a consistent way of studying helps us learn better. 

E.g I’m a visual learner, so I’ll watch animations. I'm an auditory learner so I’ll watch a video of someone explaining it. 

KNOW WHAT YOU WILL DO DURING STUDYING. Do not just wing studying, it’s unproductive and you’re more likely to waste time instead of using it.

 Before you start studying, write a to-do list of everything you need to do during that session and how you will do it. Less time time-consuming and allows you to use time productively. 

SAMPLE – this is Lanny’s daily study routine without any upcoming tests, as an early bird, kinesthetic learner and needs breaks to think with clarity.

Morning

Review my flashcards in preparation for any test. 

Write/note any flashcards I'm struggling with. 

 Afterschool

Check seqta/school website to access my courses, in which I’ll write down which subjects I had. 

Do a few quick blurts on paper of everything I learned in those subjects with prior reading. I only do this for HASS, math and science + any electives that require it. (blurting method)

Then I recheck my blurts, add in anything that I’ve missed and correct with a different coloured pen. 

After, I push those papers aside but I do not discard them. I’ll then complete my online science homework + class workbook. If I happen not to understand anything I’ll watch a video on it and then complete some questions on that. 

I’ll take a break around now because, on an estimate, it has been around 20-40 minutes since I started depending on how my science homework is. I usually eat something and then get back to it. 

Math is next. I’ll complete any math homework, then I’ll practice doing math questions on my own. What I like to do is watch a math video, pause the question without the answer then watch to see if I got it. Effective because they explain it and I can see where I went wrong without analysing my working out which is rather time-consuming. 

I take another break. Math stuff usually takes around 20-30 minutes. 

I then do HASS, which is the easiest. I usually read an article or watch a video on hass then apply that knowledge by answering questions OR doing assigned chapter work. 

I do not study English after school, but I usually read an assigned passage/book and then try to apply any techniques/knowledge by taking that paragraph apart and analysing it. Sometimes, I write my paragraphs using any taught techniques and then mark them. 

Then, I redo my blurtings again but without prior reading then recheck and correct. Then I am finished for the afternoon!!

Evening

Review flashcards then watch a video/read an article on what I was struggling with in the morning but I do not do anything to consolidate this knowledge. 

That is all, please feel free to ask me about any questions about studying as I don't really post much about it, I'll love to help out any fellow students! 

[exrellian]

Replaced MC AU

Authors Note: the amount of support I’m getting is insane and I am so thankful! I didn’t expect my first series to blow up like this! Comment if you would like to be added to the tag list (which is something I never expected to have) and of course, enjoy part four!!

TW: none really except MC and ??? Shit talking the brothers and royals

Part 1-Part 2-Part 3-Part 4(you are here)

Someone who feels the same way

??? POV

“Chef! There is someone sleeping in the alleyway next to the restaurant!” A demon said, “if you let homeless people just sleep outside people are going to stop eating here. This is a prestigious restaurant, not a homeless shelter.” The noble demon scoffed at the other

“I will go take care of it.” The chef sighed, grabbing his coat and umbrella from his office before exiting the restaurant and checking the alley beside it. Sure enough, there lays a boy, looking to be physically around the same age as the chef, and he looks like shit

“How long do you plan on sitting in the alley? Humans get sick easily.” The demon spoke, moving his umbrella to cover the soaked boy

“You gonna eat me?” the human asked, not even moving his head up to look at the demon

“Eat you? Ew.”

“Don’t mess with me, I know how demons are.” The chef shook his head, leaning against the wall across from MC

“If I was going to eat you I would have done so already. Aren’t you the precious little exchange student? Weird to see you without one of your guard dogs.” He scoffs as he mentions the seven lords

“Please don’t bring me back there. Who knows what they will do if they found out I was causing a noble demon trouble” MC sputtered, still not making eye contact with the mystery demon

“Ew.”

“Ew?”

“Those lords are as incompetent as the young prince who rules them.” The demon replied with a roll of his eyes “I’m Lawrence by the way. Why don’t you come into the restaurant and get cleaned up, the back room should have some spare clothes since yours are… gross”

“Are you sure your boss would be okay with that?”

“My boss? No, he won’t mind” Lawrence tosses his jacket at MC, still covering both of them with the umbrella

“If you’re sheltering me with an umbrella why do I need a jacket?”

“Put the hood up, hide your face and, since I wear this jacket often it should mask your scent as a human. A lot of noble demons are dining here, if you don’t want the lords knowing you’re here you best hide.” Lawrence explains, helping MC up off the ground

“Why are you helping me? You could have killed me at least five different times now”

“Because you looked pathetic. And I can’t have homeless people outside the restaurant, it will make it look… poor”

Small time skip

MCs POV, first person

I finished getting changed after successfully sneaking in… but now what? Sure I’m all cleaned up but was it all just to go out onto the streets again? Sure I could go to Purgatory Hall but who knows if they have been manipulated by Amelia too. I need to get a job and find a place to stay, even if I just hotel jump until the end of my time here…

“The uniform looks good on you.” A voice spoke from the door behind me “ready to get working?”

“What? Your… offering me a job here? But how will I go unnoticed!? And I’m a human, so won’t the demons be inclined to avoid this place with me working here!?” I ask, shocked at the sudden declaration that he was giving me a job

“An illusion spell, I put it in the uniform before you get changed. To me and any other demon you look and smell like a demon. No one will recognize you like this.” Lawrence explained, it’s as if he was prepared for this

“Oh… well I guess that makes sense, but why offer me a job? This just doesn’t seem right, you are a demon correct? Why help a useless human this much?” I asked, not fully trusting in this random demons intentions

“You ask so many questions, it’s annoying. I just felt like it, that’s all. This is my restaurant so I can give anyone I please a job.”

“Your restaurant!? You own this place!? The lords came to eat here many times, saying this was the fanciest restaurant in the Devildom!”

“If I could ban them from coming here I would. I had to work overtime any night you all came. That gluttony demon is a real problem for any restaurant he comes to. And don’t get me started on that prideful fuck, he can rot for all I care, he had the gall to tell me I was being too conservative with the serving sizes, at my own damn restaurant” Lawrence rants on and on, it was almost comforting to find someone who hates them as much as I do now “the only tolerable one is the young lords butler, at least he seems to have a shred of respect, unlike the other eight. Not even the prince can respect other people enough to not shout everything he says like he is the most important being in the three worlds”

“You seem to really hate them, don’t you?” I chuckle a bit at his tangent, not expecting someone who looks and acts like he does to go on such a heated rant

“Hate is such a… gentle word. I loathe them, they think they are the best demons ever because one of them was born into power and the other seven used to be angels. Well that doesn’t mean shit in the long run, and they will learn that sooner or later when their little exchange program backfires and the Celestial Realm fucks over both the Devildom and the human realm by extension. If there is one thing I loathe more than the nobles here in the Devildom, it’s the celestial realm” he sighs “we have gotten off topic, do you want the job or not? I live in a two bedroom apartment above the restaurant that you may stay in until you have made enough money to get your own place out until the exchange year comes to an end. Truthfully it would be foolish of you to refuse” he was right, it would be incredibly stupid to turn down this offer.

Tag list; @t-misaki @melpomenelurks @gallantys @skei2p @terodactu @atomsminecraft @cutest-tenshi

[the-hopeless-haze]

Let’s Spend the Night Together

Chapter 3 of If You Want It, You Can Bleed on Me

Greg House x Reader

Word count: 6.5k ??? what did I do

NSFW - smut

“Where does she live?” Greg asks James.

“If I tell you, am I assisting you in a crime?” James asks in response, barely looking up from his desk.

“I’m sure she told you about our date later.”

James huffs in frustration, finally looking up at him. “You’re insufferable.”

“Did you like her? Is that it?” Greg questions, trying to get to the bottom of his friend’s snarky behavior. Not that this wasn’t the usual from him. It was one of the things Greg loved about him, that he was always a little fed up with him, always preemptively aggravated, always in a state of annoyance. It was harder to piss someone off that was always a little pissed with him at baseline.

“Is that what you think? Because if that’s the reason you’re taking her out… you’re more fucked than I thought.”

“The correct answer would have been, ‘no, Greg, I do not want to sleep with her because I am married’ but we’ll go with that.”

James sighs, looking up at him. “Yes. She’s very attractive. But no, I had no intention of entertaining her.”

“Then what’s your issue?”

“Because I don’t know why you’re doing this. You sick of your prostitutes?”

Greg scoffs. “This isn’t about sex.”

“It’s not? I’m mistaken then, because you were flirting with her, made comments about her body, called her to your office…”

“Okay,” he corrects. “It’s not just about sex.”

“Are you trying to tell me you want to date her without saying the words? Because if so… congratulations.”

“No. I want to figure her out.”

“Just look in her chart. Save both of you the trouble.”

“It’s no fun if I learn all the answers at once.”

“Do you ever wonder why you’re single?” James asks.

“Do you ever wonder why you’re unhappily married?” Greg counters. “And. About that. Either her psychiatry training gave her some leg-up here or you tipped her off. She went through her files already. All that she left was a med list.”

“You already looked?” James asks, incredulous.

“Yeah. No birth control. Wonder what that’s about? Propranolol. Maybe some blood pressure issue… she’s young for that and that’s not first line. Idiopathic tachycardia? Maybe. Anxiety?”

“She can’t have an interesting med list. Stop looking for zebras. She’s barely thirty.”

“No birth control and barely thirty? Either she’s not getting any or she’s tied her tubes already.”

“Or… if she does have a blood pressure issue she can’t be on it. Or she has an IUD. Actually… don’t drag me into this.”

“Lamotrigine. Seizures. Bipolar disorder. What’s more likely?”

“lamotrigine isn’t the first-line med for either. Maybe you’ll have to talk to her.”

Greg rolls his eyes. “No fun. Hey… she’s on Vicodin.”

“A match made in hell,” Wilson grumbles, running his hands over his face.

“Well. She was. Eight years ago.”

“Most people don’t stay on it indefinitely.”

“Why would she leave that on there? It’s just these three meds.”

“Don’t you have an actual patient?”

He shrugs. “I need her address. I’m picking her up in three hours.”

“At least buy her dinner. Do not just bring her to your apartment.”

“I can’t learn anything if I just have sex with her. I mean, I’ll definitely learn some things, but…”

“Well, I don’t have her address.”

“You’ve got to have her address. You hired her.”

“Nope. I’m not her direct supervisor since she’s a consult. You’d have to talk to the head of psychiatry or Cuddy. And no. I’m not losing my job searching for it.”

“She took it out of her medical records,” he says, shaking his head, but he’s smiling. “I guess she likes to play.”

——————

“So let me get this straight. You want me to risk the safety of one of my employees so you can drive by her apartment?”

Greg looks at Cuddy for a moment, as if he’s  actually thinking about her summary of his request and he nods. “Yeah. That sounds about right.”

Sighing, she says, “I shouldn’t be shocked you live the rest of your life like you practice medicine, but I don’t care about the results here. The answer is no, House.”

“It’ll be worth your while.”

“Yeah? Why?”

“Because… if I get laid I’m in a better mood which means I’m less likely to cause you issues.”

“Right. Hm. Surprising, but that didn’t persuade me.”

“Have you met her?”

“Is that supposed to convince me?” she asks, looking up at him for a second.

He shrugs. “I don’t know. She does work in psychiatry. For someone who constantly loves to tell me I have a drug problem and there’s something wrong with me I’d think you’d want to make sure this relationship runs smoothly.”

She rolls her eyes at him. “I feel like you and I both know you’re not doing this for the emotional healing.”

“I won’t be doing anything if no one gives me her address,” he grumbles. He doesn’t tell her but for once he can’t believe how stupid he was that he fell for that, that he thought you might be interested.

“Hm. Well. I’m busy, House.”

He walks out without a word, heading back to his office. It’s 7:00.

Well. Alone again. Not much different than the last night or the night before that.

And he knows he could have Cameron. She’s been not so subtle in trying to get his attention, and yes, he certainly didn’t help matters by telling her she’s beautiful. Sure. But she isn’t… she’s not what he wants. He doesn’t need someone to take him on like a charity case.

You… you were fucking with him. And it’s fair, maybe he even deserves it. Maybe you got off on this, being a Walmart version of a femme-fatale, wounding men’s egos, seeing which ones would chase you and which ones would give up after a little pain.

Doesn’t really ease the sting of the ache of rejection, though. That you’d brush him off that easy, leave him without an avenue to reach you.

Sighing, he turns on the TV, trying and failing to focus on the screen, but you’d taken over his mind like a case he was on the brink of solving and just couldn’t get there.

8:15. He gets a page from your number. “YOURE LATE”. It reads.

Well. Screw that. He still had a way to reach you after all.

Possibly.

Smiling to himself, he calls down to the psych ward, asking for you. You’re not there, they say, but they’ll be happy to transfer him to your extension if you’re still in the building.

“I thought hookers took pride in their punctuality,” you say when you answer the phone.

“You’re kind of a bitch, huh?” He asks, trying not to let his chuckle be so audible in the receiver.

“You keep Wilson around. You love bitches.”

“Funny. Would’ve thought you’d been swooning, begging him to leave his wife by now.”

“I’m not so easily charmed.”

“Those big brown eyes don’t do it for you?”

“Sounds like they do it for you. Something you want to tell me, Gregory?”

“Don’t ever call me that,” he sighs.

“Not going to deny the gay allegations but you’ll draw the line at me calling you by your first name? What gives, House?”

“You can call me Greg.”

“Wow, could I? What an honor that we’re on first name basis.”

“Not many get the privilege.”

“Still haven’t denied the gay allegation.”

“Don’t really see the point. You’ll believe what you believe regardless.”

“Wow. Truly. A disaster of a man in all other regards but you’re comfortable in your sexuality? Greg is 1 for 0.”

“I have one male best friend and I’ve been single for five years. I embrace the gay jokes at this point.”

“Five years?”

“Yeah. It’s been a while for you too, huh?”

“What makes you so sure?”

“No reason,” he lies.

“Right.”

“You’re single now.”

“Moved here less than a year ago. Haven’t really had the chance to meet people.”

“Okay. What hellhole did you crawl out of to willingly move to Jersey?”

“Maybe I just like Frank Sinatra.”

“He’s dead. You didn’t come here for something. You left something and you came here to make sure whatever it was didn’t follow you.”

“Is this really the date you had in mind?” you ask.

“Nice deflection.”

“I just moved. No story there.”

“Also. Almost a year? And no one’s asked you out?”

“I can say no, you know.”

“You didn’t say no to me.”

“Maybe I should’ve.”

“Cold. Come down here. I’ll walk you out to my car.”

————-

“Ah. The bitch arrives,” he says, looking you up and down again, not hiding his checking you out. You’d changed, red blouse with a leather jacket and most likely the same black slacks you were wearing earlier. “Not quite slutty enough.”

“Could say the same for you. Where’s the assless chaps?”

“I could never pull that off,” he says. “You could, though.”

He’d changed, too, a button down with slacks for once instead of jeans... at Wilson’s nagging of course.

“Here,” he says, handing you a bouquet of flowers he thought for a second were going to wilt away at his desk.

“Flowers? don’t tell me you went all out. Maybe you’re not as much of a disaster as I thought.”

“I shouldn’t give them to you since you stood me, a cripple, up.”

“Stood you up? You didn’t come get me.”

“You never told me where to get you. Ergo… you stood me up.”

“You were supposed to figure it out.”

“Yeah. Right. Wilson didn’t know and Cuddy wouldn’t put out. And you knew I wouldn’t figure it out. That’s why you stayed here.”

“You actually asked Cuddy?”

“What? I’ve asked her for much worse.”

You shake your head, smiling. “Falling head over heels for me already, Greg?”

“Puzzles are no fun if you can’t figure out the answer.” He doesn’t say that the unsolved cases haunt him, nag him and he sees them where they’re not.

One day he knows you’ll haunt him, too. One day, when you leave, when he pushes this until it breaks.

“Mm. Try harder then,” you say.

“You gave me an unsolvable puzzle.”

“Mm. Not really. You gave it to yourself. You said you were picking me up at my place. I stayed here and gave you the easy way out.”

“You could’ve left it—“ he cuts himself off, lest he incriminate himself.

“Left it where, Greg?” you ask, bemused.

“Nowhere.”

“Right,” you laugh. “So what opiate do you pop constantly?”

“You don’t know?”

“No.”

“Funny.”

“Why would that be funny, Greg?”

“Let me sleep with you first.”

“Absolutely not,” you say, grinning at him.

“Well, I shouldn’t have thought you’d be easy if you’ve put me through hell just to take you out,” he sighs.

“Don’t think I’ll leave you completely wanting, though,” you say, reaching out to touch his face, his stubble scratching your hand pleasantly, a shiver running down your spine. You run your thumb over his bottom lip gently.

Tentatively, he reaches out for you, too, copying your movements, hand on your cheek, thumb over your lips, but then your tongue darts out to run over the pad of his thumb and he thinks he might die right there. “Dirty girl,” he chuckles, smirking.

“Mm. You’re pretty, Greg,” you say, with enough sincerity he almost believes you’re not bullshitting him.

“Pretty? That’s a first.”

“Like no one’s ever told you.”

“Maybe ten years ago.”

“Mm. It’s those eyes,” you say, stepping a little closer to him, letting your breath mingle with his, snaking your hand around the back of his neck. Your lips almost touch, once, twice, wordlessly. “You gonna kiss me or not, Greg?”

You expect him to be rougher but he’s soft, testing the waters, lips still barely touching yours until he gives in, gives you what you want, kisses you like he means it. God, it’s been too long, and you missed it, the thrill of kissing somebody new, and you can feel his anticipation, electricity from your skin to his.

“Come on,” he says, breaking away from you after a few minutes. “I said I’d take you to dinner.”

———

“So what is it? Percs?” you ask once you’ve been seated and get waters. It’s a nice place he chose, somewhere a little out of the way, mostly serving Italian fare and seafood. It’s where men who haven’t been on a date in a while would choose to bring a woman, you figure.

“Percs? You do some time on the street?” he asks.

“So what if I did?” you counter.

He shakes his head. “Not your story. I’m not buying that.”

“Fine. Used to work at an addiction treatment facility when I was a nurse. Everyone calls them percs, though. Not exactly some down low street name.”

“It’s Vicodin.”

“Nasty drug,” you say.

“Really? I think they’re yummy.”

“You would.”

“What’s your personal aversion to them? They take you on a bad date?”

“Got them prescribed after a motorcycle accident. Didn’t agree with me.”

“Hm. You driving?”

“No.”

“What’d you break?”

“My leg.”

“Which one?”

“Right femur.”

Wilson was going to have a field day. Match made in hell, alright. Wilson’s personal hell, that is.

“Femurs are hard to break.”

“When your partner is drunk and doesn’t care about anything it’s not that hard,” you say, shrugging your shoulders. “Lucky I didn’t die. I mean, not that I cared so much then.”

“Partner? What were you, 19?”

“22,” you say, silently cursing yourself for not just saying boyfriend.

“Did they not make it?”

You look at him questioningly but don’t say anything about his use of the gender neutral. You don’t want to have that conversation tonight. “No. Life support for a couple weeks until they pulled it.”

“Hm. So that wasn’t the reason you left.”

“No. There was no reason. I just needed a change of scenery.”

“Right,” he says. “Jersey isn’t usually the place people pick for a change of scenery.”

“How’d you end up here, then?”

“There was a job opening,” he answers.

“You were running away from something, too.”

“No, I was running to something. I needed a place to hire me and Cuddy was the only one insane enough to take me on at that point.”

“You’ve always been discourteous and unprofessional?”

“Those are my middle names,” he snarks.

There’s a natural break in the conversation as the waiter comes back to take orders. Greg takes notice of what you order, a baked scrod, certainly not the least expensive thing you could have ordered but not the most, either. It’s an assessment of how you value yourself, he thinks. Average. Average is boring.

Or you could just like scrod, he supposes.

“Why are you single?” he asks.

“I don’t know. Life was busy. Didn’t have time for relationships,” you say, shrugging. “Why are you?”

“Myriad of reasons.”

“Give me one.”

“My leg,” he responds indignantly.

“What happened to it?” you ask.”

“That’s a second date conversation.”

"You're in pain."

"How'd you know?" He asks sarcastically.

"Was it the cane? The Vicodin?"

'I think it was your charming personality.

Anyway. If you're going to cite your leg as a reason you're single, I'd love to know why."

"I was with someone when it happened. It's a long story."

"We've got nothing but time,” you say.

"You really won't sleep with me if I don't tell you?" House asks.

"Nope. Keep pushing me and I never will.

Tell me."

House sighs dramatically. "I had an infarction in my thigh muscle. No one knew what it was, I diagnosed it, but... so much of the muscle was dead already. I didn't want an amputation, I wanted a bypass. I didn't care about the pain. I just wanted to be able to use my leg. I asked them to put me under sedation to cope with the pain at the time... and the woman I was with decided it would be a good idea to remove the dead muscle completely."

"You made her your medical proxy?”

"Mm. Stupid decision on my part,” he says.

"Any medical background?"

"Nope."

"Then yes. Stupid decision,” you agree.

"I'm sure you've made plenty of stupid decisions. Getting on that motorcycle, for one,” he says, adding a jab at the end so to help heal his wounded ego a little.

"We all make mistakes. It's human. So... what's the reason now? You resent people who can walk without pain so you don't get close to anybody? It interferes with sex? You feel like no woman would want to deal with it long term?"

House sighs and rolls his eyes. "Do you really think it interferes with sex? Is that what you're worried about?"

"No. I'm asking if that's what you-"

"No. You see me as a potential sexual partner, correct?"

"I never said that."

"We're going with it. You ask me as if you're posing the question to me... but you're projecting."

"And you're deflecting. I asked you three questions and you didn't answer one" you point out.

"No. It doesn't interfere with sex, at least not to the point where you have to worry if I

can get you off or not. Whenever you decide to spread your legs for me... you'll see."

You feel your cheeks redden a little and cough. "I asked you two other questions."

"They weren't what you were getting at."

"Entertain me."

"No. It's not that I resent people. Am I jealous? Sometimes. I'd love to know what it's like to wake up in the morning without pain. But I'm not going to wake up every morning wanting to kill my partner because she jogs every morning and I can't."

"Is it because you've been able to accept it?

Was it an issue with your girlfriend at the time, coming to terms with it?"

"What do you think?"

"Yes."

Greg shrugs. “Not hard to put that together. I bet I could get a psychiatric nursing degree too.”

"Third question? You feel like no woman would want to deal with it?"

"Mm. Or she'd want to deal with it for the wrong reasons, take me on like I'm a charity case. That's unattractive for an abundance of reasons. You could go that way, I think, or you used to."

"You think I'm taking you on as a charity case? You pursued me.”

"You agreed. You didn't think for a second,

'well, he's a cripple, I'd better at least give him a shot'?"

"Your leg is not the reason I am here," you say firmly.

"What is it then, my deep blue eyes? This big, thick cane? My ray of sunshine personality?"

You chuckle. "It's your drive. You barely knew me, decided I was interesting and pursued me without abandon. That is attractive."

"You're not curious as to why you?"

"Little tits and ass, as Keith Richards would say?" You ask. "I'm used to being objectified. Pretty privilege is a thing. I'm sure you have noticed that yourself. If there's something deeper, enlighten me."

"Well, you are attractive, there's no doubting that. But I intend to find out why you're in the medical field, and psychiatry at that. It's like Cameron, on my team. You're gorgeous enough to have become an actress, marry a millionaire. Something happened to you to make you choose this."

"Did you take Cameron out until you figured what her deal was?"

"No. Cameron pities me. I have no interest in her that way."

"Well. Why do you assume brilliant minds reside only in unattractive faces? Why do you assume I worked my ass off to get here because of some past trauma when this could have just been a goal of mine like it could've been if I wasn't as hot as you think l am?”

"Okay. Then why did you choose psychiatry?"

"That's a second date conversation." You quip.

He smiles wryly at you. "You coaxed my issue out of me. Come on."

“I hold fast to my principles. You're weak,” you say, grinning back. “Why are you a doctor, then, hm?”

“I’m not a beautiful woman.”

“Right…” you say. “Chase is pretty. Foreman is too, you know. Either of them could’ve done something easier.”

“Chase is trying desperately to fill his father’s shoes. His father was a doctor, and well, you know how that story goes. And Foreman is an overcoming adversity case. He could’ve been a hood rat. He was on that path.”

“You know… women just started to be able to open credit cards in 1971. Maybe I don’t want to have to rely on a man to make a living.”

“No. Believe me, I get that. My point was there’s easier ways to make money. You chose the hard way,” he says. “And unpopular way. People become doctors and they fantasize about cutting people open and diagnosing infections, not getting hit and restraining children.”

“Your hypothesis is stupid. Maybe I don’t want to be an actor or model… or an infectious disease specialist,” you say. “And I think we’re all damaged. All of us. No one gets out unscathed.”

“No one just chooses psychiatry because it’s such a good time.”

“They do when it can make them ridiculous money without as many hardships as medical school. I could be using my degree to write suboxone scripts and make more than I’m making right now. I know a lot of people who went back for that.”

“Proving my point. Why are you doing things the hard way?”

“You take on the most difficult cases across the country, cases no one else can solve. You’re doing things the hard way, too. Why? Because the easy way is boring.”

Greg smiles at that. “Fair enough.”

“Yeah. Fair enough.”

—————

You don’t quite know how you got here. Or well, you do. Greg asked you to come back to his place for drinks, and you agreed, and you should’ve known better but it’s been years and you can’t really care too much when his warm body is underneath you, his tongue down your throat, his hands everywhere he can reach.

“How bad are you hurting?” you ask him, breathlessly.

“I’m fine. Don’t worry,” he whispers back, reaching a hand back to touch your chin. “What do you want to come of tonight?”

“Let’s just see where this leads us,” you say, leaning back to kiss him again.

But he stops you, gentle pressure on your jaw to prevent you from closing the space between your lips. “I need to know what you want.”

You sigh, pressing your elbow in his chest as leverage to lift yourself off him, and you sit next to his feet on the other side of the couch. “Why are you asking?”

“Because I don’t want this to head somewhere we can’t get back from. Move over,” he says, and winces, moving his legs back over to sit beside you again.

“It wasn’t sexual trauma,” you huff, aggravated. “You can say I’m damaged all you want but that doesn’t mean you have to treat me like glass.”

“I tried to take your shirt off and you pushed me away but you kept kissing me. What do you want?”

“What do you want?” You ask, glaring at him.

Truth was, you were using him, maybe just like he was using you. You hadn’t had the opportunity to make quite as bad of a decision as sleeping with the man in front of you in a long time. And as bad decisions go, he wasn’t so terrible anyway. You like him so far, you think he’s attractive. But you know Wilson is right, that he might drag you down to places you haven’t been in a long time.

Still.

It’s been a while since you’ve felt something. You want the hating yourself in the morning for giving yourself away so soon, you want the walk of shame as he drives you back to the hospital where you left your car, you want to revel in the fact that Greg will be telling people how you were in bed, bragging that he got you in between his sheets. You want the dopamine hit and the subsequent crash.

You spent so long getting healthy but you had to keep everyone at arm’s length to do it. It was probably the worst idea to try to get close to someone else who also isolated people and couldn’t even be healthy then.

Why didn’t he just want it to be easy? Just fuck you and be done with it, continue if it’s convenient and worth the effort. Easy is boring, sure, but sex isn’t boring even if it’s easy (if so, he wouldn’t be seeing hookers, would he?). And you know he wants to fuck you, but why he wants to make it difficult… it’s beyond your reach at this moment.

“I want… I don’t know,” he admits, because he doesn’t.

Prostitutes were one thing. Vulnerability there didn’t really matter. They were doing a job and they didn’t even take a second glance at his leg. As long as they were getting paid. If he wanted attention drawn to it, they’d kiss it red with their lipstick but because he tells them to leave it alone… they do.

Sleeping with somebody new… it’s so much harder. It’s so much easier with someone you know. Or someone you don’t have an obligation to know.

With an aim to please rather than take, he doesn’t know how he’d perform.

Looking at his face, reading the ambivalence there, it suddenly clicks. If Wilson knew the truth, if you really are the first woman since his injury, there’s a lot of insecurity in being seen.

And you know all about being seen.

It’s easy to come off with bravado and arrogance but when you’re actually in the situation, when you’re called to be vulnerable… it’s something else entirely.

“Do you want to have sex with me?” you ask quietly.

“Yes. God yes,” he affirms, nodding his head. “Don’t take tonight as an indication.”

“It’s okay. I understand,” you say, nodding.

“That doesn’t mean… that doesn’t mean I can’t help you get off.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “That’s still sex.”

Scoffing, he rolls his eyes. “If you’re in high school.”

“What do you think lesbians do?”

He raises his eyebrows, chucking a little. “Are you a lesbian?”

“You wish,” you laugh. “Say you could be the one that changed me.”

“I would. Except people don’t change.”

“Yeah. They do. They change all the time,” you counter, shrugging your shoulders. “Every day, every hour, every moment… it changes you. They’re minuscule changes, changes you don’t see immediately, but you look back a decade and then it clicks.”

“Right. Maybe. But fundamentally people don’t change. The parts change, but the whole never does.”

You want to say that he has been changed, that his leg injury changed him, that he holds so steadfast to that belief that people never change so he can convince himself he was always this miserable. Sure, you get the feeling he was fucked before, but this did change him. Made him worse. Made him push people away.

You don’t say that, though. You know deep down he knows it and doesn’t want to face it.

“Do you want to have sex with me?” he asks, insecurity creeping in, and he doesn’t know why this is so difficult or why he cares at all. He could pay for what he wanted, live his hedonistic lifestyle and not have to worry if the woman in front of him wanted to fuck him or not.

You aren’t boring.

But that’s not true, anyway, that’s not why he keeps people at arms length. Routine medical cases are boring, but people aren’t. It’s why he went through all the files he could of the applicants for his team, trying to pick the combination that would interest him the most, play off each other in ways he could live vicariously through. They weren’t the most deserving, or the most academically gifted, they were the most interesting. It’s why he loves gossip, loves knowing about things that don’t concern him, always living life like it’s a spectator sport and he’s got front row seats.

It’s always the people that love to watch that hate to be seen.

“I could be convinced,” you say, in that bitchy tone he knows hes going to love to hate. You soften; though, turn to him, your hair falling a little in your face, kiss him gently on the mouth.

Greg responds in kind, deepening the kiss, his hands tangling in your hair, pulling lightly before traveling to your breasts, kneading your flesh through your shirt.

“Could you be convinced to have lesbian sex with me right now?” he asks.

You’d burst out laughing if you also weren’t so admittedly and ashamedly turned on right now. “Yeah. Sure. Think you’d have an easier time in bed though.”

“You treat me like all your girls?” he asks, a glint in his eye, and oh, there’s the being seen. You’re not a fan, either. You’re surprised he’s not being forthright about what he no doubt is putting together, but ultimately you’re thankful.

“A slut’s a slut,” you quip as he leans back in, his mouth barely touching yours and he chuckles against your skin.

“You really are a bitch.”

“Mm,” you agree, closing the distance between you again, pulling him to stand up with you, letting him lean on you as he puts weight on it again.

“I’m sorry,” he says quickly, without thinking, never one to apologize for his actions but never one to let his disability affect others, either.

“It’s okay, Greg,” you whisper. “I got you.”

“No, I’ll go get—“

You stop him, holding his jaw gently in your hand. “It’s okay.”

Empathy. Not sympathy.

You had been here, in a way. Femur fractures take a good six months to heal. You walked half a year in his shoes on the same medication he was on.

Now it all clicks, what James had done, keeping you two apart to bring you together, doing something by not doing anything, letting it all happen by chance. He had been patient enough to let time do most of the work, something Greg could never do, but something that ultimately worked in his favor.

It’s okay. We all need someone we can lean on. If you want it, you can lean on me.

You still lived a life without pain.

Greg hates it, hates it all, and if you had had just the slightest twinge of force, the slightest indication that you were saying it was okay just to say something he would’ve told you to get out. He hates the way it kills intimacy, makes him older, more decrepit, makes him dependent, in a way. There’s certain things he can never do, or that he’d need help to do, and it’s something a woman would leave him for.

It’s something a woman did leave him for.

He wants to hug you, but that would feel too much, too intimate, too soon, so he kisses you again instead, and then the two of you hobble on to his bedroom. It hurts. God, it hurts, aches like it always does, maybe more so—the last pill he took was at dinner, but you make it, helping him ease onto the bed and wasting no time, knowing he was insecure, wasting no time to prove you still wanted him, mouth on his, your legs straddling his good thigh, moving on to his neck, laving your tongue over his skin, biting gently, unbuttoning the top buttons of his shirt.

“Hey,” Greg says, stopping your hand’s ministrations.

“I’m only taking your shirt off,” you assure him. “I won’t go further than that.”

“Fine. Not much to see there, either,” he mutters.

“I like tits,” you blurt without thinking. Jesus Christ. You have to stop doing that.

“Yeah,” he says, chuckling. “Sure you do. Good thing mine are bigger than Cuddy’s.”

“They absolutely are not.”

“You familiar with their size?”

You stop yourself just in time before you say “I wish.”

He lets you finish, helping you take his shirt off, take his undershirt off, shivering as you kiss down the length of his torso to the top of his pants. “I’ll show you mine,” you say, unbuttoning your pants and slipping them off, throwing them on the floor haphazardly. You move over so he can see the scar down the side of your leg, deep gash where they cut you open, you were a month away from a nursing license and you were in the OR, someone’s patient before you could ever be on the side you studied for.

You were lucky, they kept saying. You didn’t feel lucky at all.

Tentatively, his hand comes to touch your skin and you nod, silent agreement that he could touch. He’s gentle even though he doesn’t need to be, touching carefully, tracing the line of the scar up and down, hard keloid under his skin.

“This isn’t what you don’t want me to see,” Greg says.

“Hm?”

“Your upper body. That’s why you didn’t want me to take your shirt off.”

Oh. Yeah. That.

“I don’t care,” you lie.

“Yes, you do,” he counters immediately, looking at you knowingly. “Why are you lying?”

You sigh, pulling him back to you, kissing him hard, hoping he’ll shut up if you don’t give him the chance to speak. “Just touch me already.”

It would be so much easier if he just fucked you, fucked you over, fucked you up all within the course of a month. You get the feeling right now, as your tongue is down his throat and you’re letting out moans against his lips you try to suppress as his fingers enter you, stretch you out, reach angles you couldn’t reach by yourself, you get the feeling this is going to be for the long haul. Not that he’s necessarily going to be down on one knee, but that he’s going to drag out hurting you like he’s dragging his fingers against your walls, drawing you closer and closer to the edge but never quite bringing you there.

“You okay?” you ask him, breathless, head hazy, you just want him, want him closer than this, want him deep in you.

“Shh,” Greg whispers, almost a little irritated. “I’m busy right now.”

You can’t really focus on coming up with a retort because he starts rubbing your clit and as you tilt your head back into the pillows, he starts biting at the flesh he can now easily access, starting gentle but then applying more pressure with his teeth, smirking as you whimper.

Sweat trickles down your back and you wish this was different, but he’s naked from the waist up and you’re unclothed from the waist down, and it’s stupid, you know it’s dumb, that you’re letting this man fuck you with his fingers before you let him see you fully naked. It’s not like no one has before. It’s just a conversation you don’t want to have again.

Still. All this is making you a little too hot to be half-clothed.

Greg wonders why he let you in at all. Why he went through the trouble, bought you dinner, why he’s trying to get you off right now. Maybe it’s to fuck with James. Sure, it was originally, but now he feels like it was James who fucked with him, set him up, used predictable behaviors to create a predictable outcome. Still. If you’d been professional with him instead of giving him crassness right back, he would’ve decided to make your life a living hell instead of getting you in between his sheets. Either way, he was going to make someone miserable.

Himself, first and foremost.

Not that he can really be miserable right now. It’s not terrible being needed in this sense, he’s remembering.

You weren’t like Stacy, though, not here. You’re louder, not in a patronizing way where you exaggerate your moans to try and stroke a man’s ego, but it’s like you genuinely can’t hold yourself back. It’s hot. It’s unreserved. It’s… passionate in a way Stacy just wasn’t. She loved him, he knows that, but when things got hard and he got mean instead of fighting back she got cold and walked away.

Not that he can glean exactly how you’d be in an argument from how you act in bed, but he has a feeling you don’t let go of things easily.

And… well. Takes one to know one.

Who would give in, though?

His relationship with Stacy worked before his leg because Stacy would accommodate, she would compromise herself for him. It’s why his friendship with James works now. Sure. Both of them gave him some pushback — it’s not like they in good conscience could let him get away with all the things he wanted to do. And eventually he pushed Stacy until she broke.

You, though? You don’t seem like you shatter easily. If anything you seem like you’d harden like a scar, healing over stronger, uglier, thicker, nothing really hurting you because you’d just put more walls up. You’d fight him to the bitter end.

And you know, maybe he wants that. Someone he’s not afraid to push too far because he knows you’ll push right back the second he gets even an inch.

All he really knows is your vague med list, that you got into a motorcycle accident almost a decade ago, and that you chose to be a psychiatric provider among all other things you could have been. And yet… he feels like he can glean much more.

All he really knows in this moment is that you’re coming apart under his fingers, gripping his forearm with your hands as he drags out your orgasm, trying to get him away from your now overstimulated cunt.

“She comes in colors everywhere,” he mutters, smirking lazily at you, dragging his fingers out of you, finally, then brings them to his mouth, sucking slowly on each one.

You scoff at his comment, but just as quickly he sees the light turn green again and you straddle his left thigh, coming to kiss his mouth, hard, bare cunt against his slacks and he can’t help it, he’s thinking about you wrecking them, thinking about your wet pussy on what could’ve been his bare thigh… and he groans despite himself, in pain, yes, but also pleasure - and he’s pulling you closer by the collar of your shirt, and he begins to remember why men put themselves through what could very well be the potential torture of dating a woman.

It’s just so much better when it’s with someone you know. Or… someone you need to know everything about, need to memorize like they’re an extension of yourself.

You’re not soulmates. It’s not love. It’s not romance, like James would decree.

You won’t fix him. He sure as hell won’t fix you.

But you’ll do something to each other, alright.

[elentarial]

Miscalculation

Dear Morifinwe,

I recently had the privilege of reading your treatise on Dwarven tariffs and found it fascinating reading indeed. I don’t suppose you hear that often. However, I was wondering if you could perhaps clarify the situation on the 36th page, just under the table of tares of standard shipping containers. I was under the impression when one converted between ounces and gallons (which, why aren’t you using liters as a standard unit of liquid measurement??), the multiplier is 0.0078126, but you have it listed as 0.0078125. Does the Naugrim measure alcoholic liquids differently? As you have only two sentences describing the conversion of Dwarvish mead, I can not determine whether it is a typographical error or if I have been misinformed. If the latter is the case, any more explicit suggestion or direction would be appreciated since (as I have pointed out) your explanation in the paper is relatively brief.

Sincerely yours,

Turukano

Dear Turukano,

I am delighted that you enjoyed my protocols for trade in East Beleriand! In regards to your question about whether dwarves measure alcohol differently than other liquids, no Turno, an ounce is an ounce. You have been misinformed. The conversion factor is indeed 0.0078125.

Thank you,

Carnistir Morifinwe,

Dear Moryo,

Thank you for the quick and brief reply. However, I digress, the conversion multiplier is 0.0078126. It was that in Tirion, and it is that now. Please explain your computations. 

Looking forward to your reply,

Turukano

Dear Turno,

I am the one who devised that conversion. I don’t need to prove my work to you because I came up with it in the first place. Any possible discrepancies are due to rounding errors. The conversion is valid.

Carnistir

Dear Moryo,

I am well aware that you first calculated the conversion between ounces and gallons. I sat on the council that granted you the defense of such a claim, and if you will recall, I questioned your math then. You were wrong in Tirion, and you are wrong now.

Awaiting your reply,

Turgon

Turgon,

How delightful to know you remember our time together at the Royal Academy of Arts and Sciences. I have no recollection of your involvement in my defense, but I really try to avoid thinking of you. Were you there? I thought you were too busy being henpecked by the campus gulls to accomplish anything, research or otherwise.

Carnistir

Moryo,

I generally thought you were one of the better brothers; don’t be an ass. Just admit you are wrong. 

Sincerely,

Turgon Turukano,

 Lord of Nevarast,

 High Prince of the Noldor

My dearest Turukano,

What a lovely title that is. Quite fitting for your already overinflated ego, but I genuinely hate to remind you that you are a second son and not, in fact, the High Prince of anything. Unless, of course, condolences are in order, then I also do not care because I find your brother infuriatingly obnoxious. I would feel for Nelyo, though. 

Yours,

Moryo

Dear Carnistir,

Nelyo…remind me, is that your eldest brother or our grandfather? I can never remember who was born first, him or my father. Regardless, he’s ancient and an inappropriate match for my brother. 

But I beseech you, dearest cousin. Please take a look at your defense from Tirion. I believe there is a note regarding the conversion on the final copy. I don’t have a copy with me, but I am sure you must have kept one for yourself. 

Yours,

Turgon

My darling Turno,

At least we agree on one thing. Fingon and my brother are terrible for one another. 

I do happen to have a copy in my archives. I will check for this mythical correction and have my scribe translate a copy for you. I will enclose it in my next reply, as it’s rather embarrassing to doubt the work of scholars. 

With love,

Moryo

Turukano,

Fuck you. There was no correction; the rate has always been 0.0078125. This exchange has been a complete waste of my time, and I will implore Himring to approve an additional one point five percent tax on all limestone coming from and all other goods going to Vinyamar. 

Sincerely,

Morifinwe

Despite all of Caranthir’s immense irritation, the final letter to Nevarast is returned some months later by an exhausted raven. Shortly thereafter, he receives word from Hithlum that Turgon and one-third of the Noldor forces in West Beleriand have disappeared. 

@silmarillionepistolary

For @cilil (who suggested Caranthir and Tax Day as a prompt) and @dalliansss (who originally did the heavy lifting on building Caranthir’s taxation empire).

Miscalculation (on AO3)

[sparklingchan]

A Duel of Hearts || Kim Seungmin (Stray Kids)

Pairing: Reader(fem.) X Seungmin Word Count: 5k+ Warnings: Suggestive, strong language(ig), mention of suicide (not the main characters). Genre: Royal AU, Friends to Lovers, Dark Academia, Angst mixed with fluff. Description: Caught in a dilemma of affection, Kim Seungmin, a prince, finds himself drawn to you. There was but one obstacle to his pursuit —you've set a single condition for all potential suitors: no royal lineage. A/N: Hello everyone! Here's another installation of the SKZ Royal AU. Idk why but Seungmin has this Dark Academia kind of vibe so I tried to incorporate that here. Hope you guys like it! More to come<3 Do check out the other fics in the skz royal series. (The stories are not interrelated) Here's the link.

You like to believe that your new dorm room is starting to grow on you.

It wasn't anything like your room back in your parents' house of course; but over the past twelve months, you'd renovated your dorm room enough to feel at home.

You'd replaced the light blue curtains with grey ones, swapped the single candle stand with a lantern to help you study better at night, put on a white table cloth and the list goes on.

A knock on your door pulls your attention.

It must be Wendy, you think to yourself, walking toward the door.

Correction: your only friend Wendy.

"Gosh, I really hate this academy, y/n." She walks in complaining, "I cannot believe they gave me a B in geography. I love geography. I cannot believe they'd ruin my overall grade like that."

"What happened?" You ask, closing the door behind her.

"I don't know! I will deal with this later, anyway," she says, fishing out a note from the pocket of her blazer. "I'm here to discuss a more pressing matter."

"What's that?"

"Of course, it's one of your lovers, y/n. I have two more lover letters in my backpack. Do you need them?"

You half chuckle and half sigh, taking the note from her and tearing it into bits.

"Ouch." Wendy says, staring at you, "Tell me y/n, it's been over a year since you joined the academy. All the boys here would die to even see you across the hallway yet you've kept the door to your heart locked. Why?"

"I am not not open to having a relationship. I just dislike how most of these men who pursue me are of royal blood. And if there's anything I despise most is royalty. That letter you gave me right now? It was from the Duke's son. It's his third letter in a row. That boy just doesn't know when to stop." You press your hand to your forehead, stressed.

Wendy nods her head, "Yeah, he is an annoying brat, I'll give you that, but y/n, I really don't understand your dislike towards royalty? Any girl out there would love to be pursued by royal suitors, including myself."

You smile in response, "It's a secret."

As always, Wendy just chuckles and doesn't push you to answer further because really, you don't know what you'll do if you ever have to explain yourself. It's a secret you rarely even discuss with yourself.

"Come on, we'll be late for our afternoon class." You say and walk towards the door, already tired of the day ahead of you.

*

“But Professor, do you not think that the first king of Taru was a horrible person morally? I mean, he did kill all of his wives when they failed to birth a son.”

If there is anyone in this academy who you think hates you to the core is your History Professor. The amount of times you’d ask him a question and he’d reply very vaguely, never answering to the point was insane. So naturally, you had developed a habit of asking him odd questions just to spite him.

Your Professor looks at you, almost angrily, and answers, “We are no one to judge a historical figure. Miss y/n.”

“But sir, you are portraying him as a role model to the class. Don’t you think that’s wrong? As you said, we are no one to judge him.”

Your professor hisses through gritted teeth and turns towards the board, not bothering to answer you. A subtle smile finds your lips.

“So, class as I was saying. The first King of this country- Taru- built the longest bridge in -”

“Excuse me, sir?” A hand shoots up from among the students followed by a voice, “May I answer Miss y/n’s question please?”

Your professor rubs his temple and sighs, nodding, “Go ahead, Mister Seungmin.”

You turn your head up to look at the owner of the voice, and much to your surprise, it is Kim Seungmin. He’s one of the quieter kids in the class but you’ve worked on a few projects together so you know that there’s more depth to him than just being the quiet kid by the window seat.

“Y/n, I think we could still look up to the King as a leader. Yes, he was ruthless to his wives but we don’t need to look up to him as a husband. He was, on the other hand, a great leader who led his country to become one of the greatest in the world, second to none.”

“Well, does that answer your question?” The professor asks and you nod, bowing towards Seungmin. He bows back.

The professor teaches the class for an hour more, letting you guys dismiss after his daily warning of, “You'll be going to universities next year so do work hard this year,”

You gather all your things and walk out of the class, stomach growling, almost begging you to make your way to the dining area for lunch.

For lunch, the menu rarely changes except on holidays.

And in all honesty, you’re tired of having chicken stew with rice everyday since you stepped foot in this academy, but the other options are extremely limited so you join the line of hungry and tired students, complaining about how difficult this year has been.

Once you have your plate of rice and stew, you seat on one of the empty benches and begin to gobble up the rice like there’s no tomorrow.

“Um, y/n? Mind if I join you?”

“Seungmin?” you ask, almost surprised, “Have a seat, please.”

Seungmin mutters a small ‘thanks’ and claims the seat in front of you, placing his backpack on the sides.

“So what have you been up to?” he asks to break the ice. It seems like you’re more focused on the rice in front of you than him.

“Eating?” you chuckle, “What’s up with you? How’s your preparation for University?”

Seungmin, licks his bottom lip, deep in thought.

How was his preparation for university going, really? He doesn’t know. He doesn’t even remember the last time he opened his books after school.

In fact, lately, his mind has been occupied with something entirely different-you.

You, who acts so indifferent to the rest of the people yet helped Seungmin when he was almost failing a chemistry project evaluation.

You, who says she has no friends yet packs extra food from home for Wendy.

You, who says she is having a hard time adjusting to the academy yet she’s his favorite person here.

How could you not be on his mind?

“Eh, it’s okay. I guess.” Seungmin scratches the back of his head. “How’s yours?”

“Not really well, to be honest . If only that duke’s son would stop sending me those stupid letters, my life would be a lot more peaceful.” you say and it’s true that those letter have been nothing short of a nuisance since you came back from the semester break. You respect his feelings, but you’re not obligated to like him back. Hell, you’ve never even spoken to the man. “He’s so persistent, it scares me, really.”

Seungmin could feel his anger building up. Of course he knows you have quite a few admirers. Even some of his friends are in that crowd. But Seungmin likes to think he always had the upper hand.

Yet he feels annoyed, offended at the thought that someone was pursuing you to the point of fear.

“He might be a duke’s son but he isn’t behaving like one.” Seungmin comments.

“Well, it doesn’t matter. All of these aristocrats and royals believe that the world is at their disposal. They could just command it and everything would go according to them. It’s ridiculous. I’m so glad you’re not from a royal line or else we wouldn’t have been having this conversation.” you say and Seungmin’s world stands still.

You think he’s not from a royal family?

You didn’t know who he really was?

He almost wants to tell you the truth, that he, in fact, is the descendant of the very king you were talking about in History today. But he chooses to remain silent. He’s enjoying your company way too much to ruin it in one day.

“Yeah, thank god for that.” Prince Seungmin replies.

*

The next few days pass by in the blink of an eye and the academic pressure gets worse.

"Wendy, could I borrow your lantern? Mine is broken, I think." You ask Wendy one afternoon.

The sun brightens up the inside of Wendy's room.

"Yeah, sure." She passes you her lantern, "I have a spare one. Going to the library?"

You nod.

There's no better place to study than the library. Especially on such a warm and cozy afternoon when everyone just wants to take a nap.

"I'll see you at dinner then?"

"Sure thing."

You walk the corridors, fiddling with your pockets, making sure you'd taken all your stationary. It would be a hassle to walk back to your room again.

As soon as you enter the library, the sounds of the world as if disappear. Not even the tapping of pens could be heard without focusing hard.

You find a suitable seat for yourself by the window and settle down there.

The library feels colder than your room and you're grateful for it. At least you wouldn't be sleepy now.

"Someone's working hard, I see." A teasing voice whispers from behind, "May I join you?"

Seungmin’s voice, much to your surprise, brings a smile to your face.

"Sure." You say, shy like a kid in kindergarten.

He claims the seat across you, setting his books and stationary on the table.

And for the next three hours, the only sound you hear from his side is that of his breathing. Even and steady.

He's busy reading a book and his eyes are focused on the pages, never once wavering anywhere else.

He's quite sincere, you realize.

The sun sets and the students light up their lanterns and immediately go back to studying. Seungmin glances at you for a second, his lips curving into a soft smile. You smile back, albeit shyly.

Hours pass by and you know it's almost time for dinner because your stomach is growling. Louder than ever.

"Y/n," Seungmin speaks to you, putting his book down, "Want to have some warm Noodles? There's a new stall in town which sells delicious noodles."

You contemplate for a second before agreeing with a smile.

"Noodles sound amazing right now."

The both of you pick up your lanterns and walk out the main gate into the streets of the town.

While the town is busy and bustling with activities during the day, at nightfall the town comes to a standstill. Something you've always liked.

"It's not in the market square, I presume." You say as Seungmin navigates through the lanes of the market.

"No," He replies, "But it is quite near to the market."

After a five minute walk from the market square, you finally see an old bamboo hut in the distance, dim and quiet.

But the moment Seungmin and you are seated on one of the wooden benches, you're as if in a trance. The aroma of herbs and spices and chicken broth is nothing like you'd ever felt before.

"Grandma, we'll have two bowls of noodles with a side of Kimchi, please." Seungmin says.

"Sure thing, son." The woman replies with a twinkle in her eyes.

"You're a regular here. " You say to Seungmin, looking around the interiors of the stall. "It's cozy and the noodles smell amazing already."

"Oh, y/n, wait till you taste them. It'll be like nothing you'd ever had before."

And true to his words, the moment you eat those noodles, flavors burst in your mouth.

It is a perfect blend of sweet and salty, but the black pepper adds the perfect spice to the combination of flavors.

"Seungmin, this is amazing!" You say, taking a second bite. "We have to come back here again!"

He can only chuckle at your reaction. If you'd say the word, he'd bring you to this place everyday. Without fail.

The two of you eat quietly, only sharing a glance of amazement once in a while.

"I'll pay, y/n." Seungmin offers once you guys are done eating, bellies full.

"No! Let me pay." You get up immediately and walk up to the old lady.

Seungmin can only shake his head at you.

"How much will that be, grandma?" You ask, taking out your purse.

"Oh, its on the house today. " the lady says, much to your surprise, "Master Seungmin brought his girlfriend out for a date at our place. I couldn't take money from you today."

Seungmin and you stare at each other, wide eyed and speechless and hearts racing.

"Grandma! She's not my girlfriend! We're classmates." Seungmin says, the tip of his ears bright red.

You nod, shyly, "There's nothing of that sort going on between us!"

Grandma smiles as she pours soup into a bowl, "Well, not yet maybe. I have an eye for things like that, you see."

When you exit the hut, Seungmin remains quite, his lips pursed in a line. It's truly endearing to see him flustered like that.

"Well, that was awkward." You say, trying to lighten up the mood.

Seungmin nods, rubbing the back of his head, "Sorry about that. I don't know why she'd say that."

"No, no, it's okay. She's an adorable woman." You say.

The rest of the walk passes by in silence.

For some reason, you always find yourself in these silent moments with Seungmin. But you like the silence. It's calming, not uncomfortable.

"So, I'll see you tomorrow?" He asks as the two of you reach the entrance of your dorm building.

You nod. You're about to turn around when he pulls you in for a gentle embrace.

Your heart stops. Your breathing stops. The earth stops.

Without even meaning to, you find yourself melting into the embrace.

The next second, Seungmin pulls back and walks towards his dorm, not even saying a word.

And you're standing there, mouth hanging open.

What are these nervous sensations Seungmin is making you feel?

*

"So why were you not at dinner yesterday?" Wendy asks the next morning, an eyebrow raised in suspicion, "Were you with a boy?"

You try to calm the heat spreading to your cheeks, "Kind of. But it wasn't anything like what you think. I swear. We were studying together and then he asked if I wanted to try a new food stall in town. That's all."

And then he hugged you Goodnight. And you haven't been able to forget the way his body felt against yours.

"And who exactly is 'we'?" Wendy asks again, the tone of suspiciousness still present in her words.

"Seungmin and I." You say.

Wendy stares at you, flabbergasted.

Seungmin and you?

You went out on a supposed platonic date with a Prince?

"Y/n, Seungmin is-" Wendy's words are cut off by the ringing of the hourly bell, indicating that your classes are about to begin.

"Wendy, I'll tell you all about it. Promise. See you later." You say and disappear into the crowd of hurrying students but Wendy doesn't move.

Wendy has a different plan in her mind. Something she considers more important than attending boring lectures.

*

"Kim Seungmin, can I see you for a second?" Wendy drags Seungmin by his arm the moment he steps out of his dorm building.

He stares at her, confused.

He didn't have a class yet; he was just stepping out to get some breakfast. Where was she dragging him early in the morning?

"What's wrong?" He asks.

Wendy and him have never even talked with each other before so why this sudden interest?

Wendy stands in front of him, eyes full of doubt. Her hands rest on her hips.

"Are you trying to mess with y/n?" She asks flatly.

Seungmin is taken aback, "What? No! Of course not!"

Why would she even think that? Seungmin almost feels angry.

"Then why are you hanging out with her late at night and why is she oblivious to you being of royal blood?"

Seungmin sighs, "Okay, Wendy, listen. I'm not trying to mess with her or anything. But its true I haven't told her about my family yet. And I will tell her. But I just want her to know me for me. Before she starts to dislike me just because I'm of royal blood. Do you think I'm wrong?"

Wendy thinks for a second before replying, "Well, you don't mean any harm. But...I think you should tell her about yourself. I mean if you're trying to get her to like you back, might as well be honest about your life."

Seungmin’s eyes are wide with shock. How did she even know about Seungmin’s crush on you? Did one of his friends spread the rumor? Did she try to spy on him?

"Hey, don't look so surprised, your majesty." sarcasm drips from her words, "Everyone here knows you like her. We have eyes, you know?"

Seungmin doesn't reply, embarrassed. Of course it is hot gossip when a prince falls in love, isn't it?

People have written sagas and books and poems about it. What is a little academy gossip compared to that?

*

You find out Seungmin hanging out with a female friend the a few days later during lunch, and you try to shake off an uncomfortable feeling.

"Seungmin, could I speak to you for a second?"

The girl looks at you, from head to toe and nods her head. "Hey, she's quite pretty, Seungmin."

Seungmin sighs, "Oh, shut up, Sojong. Don't you have a class?"

His ears are red again, like how they were back at the noodles shop.

"I'm going now anyways. Bye sweethearts!" The girl walks off with a smile, and you're left confused.

"Don't mind her. She's my cousin. An idiot cousin, if I may add."

It feels as if a weight is lifted off of your chest. Your lips automatically curve into a smile.

"I didn't know you had a cousin in the academy."

"Yeah, well. Now you do. So what's going on?" He replies.

"Um.. did Wendy say something to you a few days ago? About you going to the noodles stall with me?"

Seungmin chuckles, "Oh yeah. But it's alright. She's your friend. I get that she's quite protective of you."

You smile, "Thanks for understanding. But , umm...Seungmin, she also might have implied that you kind of want to go out with me."

Seungmin’s soul almost leaves his body. Wendy could not have shut up about it, could she? Now you probably think Seungmin is some kind of creep trying to get into your pants.

"Hey, it's okay. Wendy always exaggerates everything and she wants me to get a boyfriend desperately so I understand if you didn't say anything of that sort to her. She's not very good at conveying messages." You say.

"But I did." Seungmin says, mustering all his courage, "I did say that. To her. And it's totally okay if you don't feel the same way about me. I really do. "

You almost feel like laughing.

You haven't been able to get him out of your mind for the past few days. And he thinks you don't like him?

The both of you had been busy with different classes and tests and projects. The few glances and greetings you shared with him during lunch would become the highlight of your day. And he thinks you wouldn't want to go out with him?

Impossible.

"I do, though. I'm open to the idea of going out with you."

Seungmin was not prepared for that answer. He was sure he'd get rejected, but here you were, looking all shy and sweet while confessing to liking him back?

"Um..so how about tomorrow night? There's a nice restaurant with live music and all. I could book us a table there."

You try to supress the grin that is trying to claw its way onto your face.

"Sounds great. See you then."

"Yeah, see you." He replies, heart hammering hard against his chest.

*

The night finally comes and you find Seungmin standing just outside of your dorm building.

He wears a black long coat and pants, paired with a high collared white shirt and a rose in his hands.

Your legs feel weak the moment your eyes meet. And the gravity of the situation finally dawns on you.

By tonight, Kim Seungmin might become your boyfriend. He's handsome, intelligent and funny, yet he decides to go out on a date with you?

Why? How did the two of you even end up here?

On the other hand, Seungmin feels like he'd been hit by the cupid's arrow. The only thing he can think about as you make your way towards him is how beautiful that long, pink dress looks on you and how he couldn't wait to make you his.

"For the beautiful lady." He says, offering you the red rose.

Shyly, you take the rose.

"Shall we?" He asks, gently taking your hand. Your hand feels warm.

"Yes." You reply, intertwining your fingers with his.

Oh, how beautiful it feels.

To be able to walk hand in hand with the man you admired so much. It feels natural. Like this is how the two of you were always meant to be. Maybe if Wendy had never told you about how Seungmin felt about you, you'd have never made the effort to ask him if he ever saw you in a non-platonic way.

But you're glad everything that happened happened. You're not someone who liked to live with what-ifs.

The restaurant he'd booked just adds to the beauty of this evening. The ambience is nice and a musician plays a beautiful melody on the piano, matching to the aesthetic of the place.

"I had booked a table for two by the name of Kim Seungmin. "

The waiter takes you to your place, a large candle adorning the center of the table.

You take your seats and the waiter takes your order and leaves.

Seungmin gets a hold of your hand again, intertwining your fingers.

"I can't believe we're actually out on a date." He chuckles, tracing his thumb across the back of your palm.

"I can't either. It's surreal." You say, "But I love it. I love being here with you."

Seungmin nods, "I love being anywhere, as long as you're with me."

"Didn't know Kim Seungmin was such a flirt, huh." You laugh, your cheeks heating up.

"Oh, you're in for a long ride, baby girl." He says, pressing his lips softly against your fingers.

Goosebumps.

Indeed, you were in for a long ride.

*

That night, the two of you walk back to the academy campus in silence.

A silence that is so calming and so comforting, it feels almost like a soothing hug from Seungmin.

When you two reach the main entrance of your dorm, Seungmin pulls you in for a hug again.

And just like last time, you melt into his arms.

He smells like smoke and mint and comfort.

"I had a great time, y/n." He whispers, pulling away but keeping your faces close.

He put strands of your hair behind your ears, so soft and tender.

"I did, too." You reply, your hands gently settling on his cheeks.

"Can I kiss you, y/n, please?" Seungmin asks, almost pleads. Like kissing you is what would keep him alive from that day on, like kissing you would fill his lungs with oxygen, like kissing you is the drug that he just cannot quit.

And you can only nod before he crashes his lips onto yours.

And yet again, he's gentle and tender and you sigh into his mouth when he pulls you closer.

He tastes like the tiramisu you had back in the restaurant, sweet and like strawberries.

"I'll see you tomorrow, then." He says when you pull back, breathing heavy. His eyes are shy with a sense of pride in them. He couldn't believe that the girl he'd been crushing on since last year was finally his. He couldn't believe his luck.

And neither could you.

"Yeah, see you!" You say and kiss his lips once again before jogging into the dorm building.

Seungmin goes to sleep that night dreaming of you and wakes up yearning for you in the morning.

And the cycle repeats every day, for the next 2 months.

The two of you had become inseparable, spending every possible moment with each other.

Whenever your schedules would not let you spend a lot of time together, the two of would make sure to have at least one meal together. That single meal would be the highlight of both of your days.

But the final exams loom over you like an ominous grey cloud.

"So, as you already know, our country neighbors multiple other countries, each with their own king and set of rules. I want you all to remember the names of all current kings and all new rules they had added to their country during their tenure. " the history teacher was going on and on, "Remember, you only have a month left for your finals. That final grade would determine the trajectory of your lives. Study well."

And he finishes off with that threat.

You were so busy jotting down notes during the class that you didn't notice Seungmin's absence from the day's class.

You'd been late this morning and didn't have time to even have breakfast before coming to class. Naturally, you'd assumed he'd been in the class.

"I don't see your boyfriend today, y/n." Wendy says after class, as if reading your mind.

"Yeah, I've been wondering the same thing." You say, absently, stuffing your books back in your bag.

Wendy tags along with her other friends for lunch and you excuse yourself, making your way towards Seungmin’s dorm building.

You'd been to his room multiple times now, yet everytime you're surprised by how neat it is. The books are neatly lined up on the shelf, the blankets are folded on the bed and his shoes are neatly stacked by the corner of his cupboard.

"Missed you at class today." You say to Seungmin, whose eyes widen with excitement when he sees you enter the room.

"Yeah, I spent nearly three hours solving a problem last night, I didn't wake up on time." He says, patting the space near him on the bed.

You sit beside him, "Can we study together at night? I need your help."

He agrees immediately, pecking your cheek.

"In fact, we could go to the library right now, what say?" He asks.

"Did you forget, Seungmin? We have a field trip today. In the second half. We're supposed to assemble at the playground after lunch."

Seungmin chuckles, "Yeah. A field trip to the old fort of Taru. Almost forgot about it."

Something he'd been dreading for weeks now.

When it was announced that the final year students would be going on a field trip, he was excited in the beginning.

But when he found out the location of the said trip, he was devastated. The old fort of Taru was his ancestral home. His grandfather and great-grand father and great-great grandfather fought multiple wars and ruled the country from that fort and when they passed away, Seungmin’s father had shifted his family to a new palace just outside the city, deciding to turn the old fort into a museum for tourists.

Seungmin didn't dislike the old fort. In fact, he loved visiting that place . Every year, he'd look forward to visiting the old fort to pay homage to his forefathers during special festivals that only the Royal family celebrated.

Yet, he was dreading today's trip. Because at the entrance of the new museum, stands a tall painting of him and his family, welcoming tourists to their ancestral home.

And if you see the painting, his façade is going to disappear and you'll know his identity and that would be the end of his beautiful daydream.

But when you pull him by his collar and kiss him with so much love, he cannot help but wish for this dream to last forever.

*

When the time finally comes to board the horse carriages that would take the students to the fort, Seungmin starts rethinking every single choice of his till date. He knew he was hurting you, he knew you would be devasted to find out who he really is. But he would die if had to lose you.

And his greatest fears come to life the moment he sets foot out of that damned carriage.

Wendy, with her hand on your shoulder, stands near the fort entrance. You'd reached the fort earlier since the girls were sent off earlier. And Seungmin wishes they hadn't been.

You look confused, sad, eyebrows furrowed in exasperation.

When Wendy sees Seungmin, her eyes widen. "She knows." She mouths at him.

Seungmin swallows the lump in his throat, "Y/n, I swear..I swear I didn't do it to deceive you. I really like you and hell, I even love you. Please. Hear me out."

You don't say a word and stare at him with a piercing gaze.

"Y/n, please. I don't know why you hate Royal families but I promise you, I'm not as bad as you think they are. You know me, y/n. I'm your Seungmin!" He insists, trying to hold your hand.

But you pull away.

"You lied to me. You're no better than them." You say, almost a whisper, "Forget about what happened between us. It's over now."

And with that, the love of Seungmin’s life walks out of his life, leaving him in shambles.

*

You'd not slept properly for a week now and even stopped attending any classes. You had buried yourself in your books, revising every single page of every single book for as many times as you could.

The only time you did step out of your room was during lunch and dinner and even then, you made sure to avoid him at all costs.

It had been dreadful, really. You thought it would be easier for you to move on and forget the past few months if you kept reminding yourself of Seungmin’s lies, but it only made you miss him more.

He lied, yes; but he also made you fall in love with him, which was worse. Falling in love and dreaming of a family with Seungmin was never on your cards, you were sure you'd always marry the person your parents would have chosen for you. But here you were. Heartbroken and infatuated; both by the same person.

And today is no different from other days, or so you thought.

At around half past midnight, you hear a knock on your door. Wendy had gone home for a week and would be back tomorrow, so you are genuinely curious as to who would knock on your door at such an ungodly hour.

When you open the door, you see those eyes again- the black orbs that you'd fallen so deeply for.

"Y/n, do you have a minute? Please?" Seungmin pleads when you freeze at the sight of him.

"No. I'm afraid not." You reply, your heart hammering against your chest. The tightness in your throat does not help.

"Please, y/n. I beg you, please."

Across the hallway, a few girls pop their heads out of their doors, wondering where the male voice is from.

Sensing no other option, you pull Seungmin inside your room reluctantly.

"Fine. Say what you have to and then leave." You mutter.

You're doing everything in your power to avoid any sort of eye contact with him because you know that is what your weakness is.

He sits at the edge of your bed, while you sit in your chair, across the room.

"Y/n, you don't have to take me back. But I want you to know that I never meant to deceive you. It is pure, genuine love that I feel for you. I know you hate me because I'm of royal blood but ignoring that part, you did like me, didn't you? Before you even knew about my family. I'm still that person. I may be a prince but that is not all I am."

Your throat gets tighter and your eyes mist over with tears.

"It doesn't matter. Our relationship started from a lie. And as a matter of fact, I cannot ignore that you're a prince. I had one condition for all suitors and I cannot withdraw it for anyone."

Seungmin swallows, his eyes bloodshot, "Can you at least tell me why you hate Royal blood so much? What did they ever do to you?"

You scoff, "You really wanna know, huh? Does it still matter now? Because I'm never going to get back together with you, Seungmin."

"I want to know."

And so you tell him.

"I hate royals so much because I am one of them. I am a princess. A forgotten one, but the blood of royalty still courses through my veins."

You were a little girl of around four when your now parents had adopted you, more or less. You didn't know who they were or why they were taking you away from your mother and father- the king and queen of Nabha- a country neighboring Taru. You only remember crying till your head hurt. You remember your birth mother crying, standing at the gates of the castle while her emerald crown fell at her feet.

When you turned twelve, your adoptive parents told you the truth of your adoption.

Your adoptive mother worked in the Royal Palace as a governess for royal children while your adoptive father worked as a royal architect. They'd both met in the palace and fell in love, eventually married. You were born to the queen and king a year later. Everything was going well.

But as all stories go, yours had a villain too. Your own birth father- the king. He was the worst kind of person. He was cruel, unjust, abusive and hated you because you were a girl. He had prayed to every God known to mankind for a son, only for him to receive a daughter in return. But he refused to crown you the heir. For the next few years, the king traveled to all neighboring countries , looking for some solution to his problem. And then he found it. An oracle that told him to disown his first born daughter, in order to be blessed with a son.

When the king arranged for your adoption, he didn't even bother consulting his wife. One morning, you were in her arms and the next, you were being taken away to Taru by your adoptive parents.

The Queen killed herself the next morning.

"And that was the day I promised two things to myself: First, I would never set foot back in that country. I made Taru, your country my home. Second, I would never marry a man of royal ancestry. Because I know, no matter what happens, I never want to be associated with royals ever again. Betrayal is all we'll receive at the end under the pretense of a greater good."

Seungmin is speechless at this point. He thought your dislike towards royal lineage was just a matter of preference but now, he understands you. Truly. He understands why you'd take his lies as a sign of betrayal.

"Y/n, I-"

"Save it. You have your answers and I have mine. Leave."

He walks out of the room without a word and the moment you lock the door behind him, he falls on his knees, crying. His heart aches for you. For everything you'd been through and for everything he put you through. He cries for you.

But little does he know, behind the closed door, you're on your knees too, sobbing into your hands. Every single fiber of your being begged you to stop him and you chose to ignore it.

You wonder if you'll ever be able to hate Seungmin like you wish you did.

*

Wendy is lecturing you again this morning, her face tense.

"Y/n, we're leaving this academy forever tomorrow. Can you please give yourself the closure you deserve? Just go and talk to Seungmin. You don't have to hate his guts forever. "

The final exam results are out today, which means that your parents would be coming to pick you up tomorrow evening. You'd be leaving this place and all the bitter-sweet memories associated with it forever. It hurts you a little.

But you had to be strong.

"I've got my closure, Wendy. I promise. Can we talk about something else now?"

Wendy sighs, "Y/n, if this is what you want, then I shall support you. But know that I genuinely will always believe that you and Seungmin were meant to be. Even if you get married and have ten kids with someone else!"

For the first time in months, you allow yourself to laugh at Wendy's stupid statements. She joins in too.

But her words stick with you throughout the day.

That night, after you're done packing most of your stuff, you crash on your bed, a thousand thoughts circling your head.

I genuinely will always believe that you and Seungmin were meant to be. Even if you get married and have kids with someone else!

Even the thought of marrying another man and having his kids nauseated you. Are you really ready to let go of Seungmin, forever?

You had spent a long time trying to forget Prince Kim Seungmin, his voice, his words, his touch, but had you really succeeded?

After today, you might never see him again. Are you ready to live with that regret forever?

The answer to all these questions is no. You are not someone to live wondering the what-ifs.

So you jump out of the bed, lantern in hand and run towards Seungmin’s dorm.

*

"Y/n, did you come here by mistake?" Is his first reaction when he opens his door, hair messy and eyes alert.

You shake your head, "No. I need to talk to you. Can I come in?"

He let's you in.

"So, what's up?" He asks, rubbing the back of his neck. He looks nervous. Like the first time he had taken you out for dinner to grandma's noodle shop.

"I've been thinking. About you and about us. And I.. I'm scared. I will not lie. I do not trust royals, but for some reason, I trust you. I know that there’s a thousand things that could go wrong but I still want to be with you. If you'll have me again"

Seungmin is dumbfounded. Literally. How does one even respond to things like these?

"Seungmin, say something!" You insist.

He forces the words out of his mouth, "I'm g-glad you feel that way."

You scowl, hands on your hips.

"I bare my heart open to you and this is all you have to say? Really? Listen, if you've found someone else in these few weeks then I understand, I really do but please at least-"

He kisses you. He kisses you so beautifully, it pains you to even think that you were willing to give up this. And for what? A horrible father who coincidentally was also of royal blood?

His tongue nudges at your tongue playfully, while his hands are cupping your face, thumbs circling your skin in comfort.

You'd never felt so much peace.

When you pull away, he gently presses his forehead onto yours, "I wouldn't dare find someone else. I assure you, whatever prejudices Nabha had, they do not exist here in Taru. I'm not like your birth father and I will never be. I promise. I will do everything in my power to convince you about it."

And for some reason, as usual, you believe him.

You kiss him again, knowing that if you could go back in time, you would not change a thing. You would let Seungmin easily win the duel of your hearts a thousand times over.

[girls-are-weird]

YR fanfic pet peeves (and corrections): latin america edition

so. i was originally going to post this in january as a kind of "new year, new opportunity to learn about simon's hispanic heritage" kind of a thing, but life got busy, and then my computer died and i lost my original list, so i've had to reconstruct this from memory as best as i could. there may be some stuff missing, so perhaps i'll just keep adding to this post as missing/new points come to mind.

disclaimer 1: if you've included any of the points made here on any fanfic of yours, please don't take this as a call-out. this isn't intended to shame anyone, but rather as an educational opportunity. it's very rare that a latin american nationality that is not mexican or colombian or puerto rican is showcased in an international show, especially outside of the US, and it's given me such joy to have all of you lovely folks make the effort to be open to and research and understand the idiosyncrasies of simon's (and omar's) heritage because the rest of latin america tends to go overlooked in most other fandoms. so i don't intend to scold anyone with this. we can't all know everything about every other culture-- lord knows i don't know everything about sweden, but i want to be respectful to the country and its people and that is why i heavily research anything i don't know and ask people who do know when my research doesn't quite cover it and am open to corrections when even that falls short. i expect most of you come to write about simon's family background in good faith and also want to be respectful to his family's culture, and so i thought i might make things a bit easier for you all by putting the most common errors/misunderstandings i've seen in one handy post. but once again, it's not a call-out, i don't get offended by these things, and i'm in no way implying, if you've done any of these things in fic or in life, that you are a bad person. i understand people make mistakes when they don't know things.

disclaimer 2: i am not venezuelan myself. i was born and raised in the same general region of latin america, though, and i have venezuelan friends and have worked with venezuelan people and have visited venezuela. generally speaking, i feel their culture is very similar to mine (though our spanish is much closer to spanglish than theirs is, haha xD) and feel a deep kinship with them. but of course, i'm no native, and if you're venezuelan and catch anything here that you feel is incorrect, feel free to point it out and i'll add a correction in your name.

warning: this is very long. christ almighty. DX if you can't make it to the end, tl;dr-- feel free to ask if you have any questions or if anything isn't clear. my ask box/messages are always open.

1- "mijo." this is the only one that legit has caused me to click out of several fics/chapters, at least in the beginning, but i've learned to grin and bear it by now. it's not so much that it's wrong, per se, but rather it's more of a location issue. "mijo" is, to my ears, very much a mexican (or, if you stretch it, northern triangle) slang. it IS used sparingly in other countries, but rarely used unironically. instead, if you hear the term used in the caribbean region of latin america (which my country is part of, as is a large part of venezuela), it's almost always used… let's say sarcastically. for example, if your grown-ass adult friend is being a dumbass and doing something reckless, you might call out "oiga, mijo, se va a romper el cuello" ("hey, mijo, you're going to break your neck"). basically, it's a way of calling someone immature like a child. it doesn't have to be ENTIRELY unaffectionate (kinda like the way someone might call their significant other "idiot" or "dummy" but mean it endearingly. in fact, in colombia it's way more common for spouses to call each other "mijo/a" than it is for them to call their children that), but you can also use it with complete strangers-- like if someone cuts sharply into your lane while you're driving, you might yell at them "oiga, mijo, a donde le enseñaron a manejar, en un potrero?!" ("hey, mijo, where did you learn how to drive, in a horse paddock?!"). but even in these sarcastic/neggy cases, it's rare. and EVEN RARER to hear a mother call her children "mijo" or "mija" in this region. it's just not a thing. so when i read it in fanfic, it immediately takes me out of the story because it's so weird to me that linda would sound mexican-- it's a very distinctive accent, which carmen gloria 1000000% does not have. (plus, "mijo" in spanish is a type of birdseed. so it gave me a chuckle the first few times i read it in a fic because i always have that brief second of confusion where i go "why is linda calling simon birdseed?" before it clicks. xD i'm a dork.) it's much more likely that linda would just say "hijo" or "mi hijo," instead.

1b- the way you decide on whether to use "hijo" or "mi hijo" is important because "mi hijo" can sound overly formal in the modern context especially, much like it would in english. in fact, you can use the english version of it, "son" vs "my son" to guide you on which of the two to use. like for example, if linda were to say directly to simon "i love you, my son," she would sound oddly old-timey and anachronistic, so you would just use "son" ("hijo") in that case. whereas if she's talking about simon with someone else, for example saying "i told my son to be here on time," you'd be perfectly okay to use "mi hijo" in that sentence in spanish. it's very transferable in that case.

2- speaking of non-transferable, though, you can't use "cariño" in all instances you would use "sweetheart" or "sweetie." it really depends on the grammatical construction, and it can be tricky to get it right, but it depends on whether you're using it as a direct address or as an object. for example, if you're using it in place of someone's name-- say, a mother telling her child "te quiero, cariño" ("i love you, sweetheart/sweetie") is perfectly fine, because in that case, she could also say "te quiero, hijo" ("i love you, son") or "te quiero, simon" ("i love you, simon"). but if, say, simon says to wille "you're my sweetheart," you would not use "cariño" there; you'd go instead with some syrupy way to say "boyfriend," like "eres mi novio" or "eres mi enamorado" or even "eres mi amor," and if sara tells felice "you're a sweetheart," that would also not involve "cariño" at all. in addition, "cariño" is also very rarely used in plural; if linda is using a term of endearment for both her kids, or for a group of teens her kids' age, she would use a different term of endearment altogether: "hola, mis amores" ("hi, my loves"), "hola, bebés" ("hi, babies") or "hola, mis tesoros" ("hi, my treasures") among some examples. one exception is when you say "cariños míos" ("my sweethearts"), but very rarely the plural by itself. in fact, "cariño" is often slang for gift or present, especially in the diminutive-- for example, if you go to someone's celebratory party for some occassion (birthdays, graduations, baby showers, heck even christmas), you might hand them a small gift and go "te traje un cariñito" ("i brought you a small present"), and if it's more than one gift, or you're bringing gifts for several people, then you'd say "unos cariños" or "unos cariñitos" in the plural.

3- simon's skin is tan, not tanned. this… doesn't personally bug me as much because it's more of an english grammar issue, but i know people who might actually feel very offended if you get this one wrong with respect to them. "tan" is a color; a light shade of brown. "tanned" implies the original color of your skin has darkened with the sun. now, i'm sure simon can tan (lucky goat, says she whose skin burns even while indoors), but about 95% of the time "tanned" is used in YR fanfiction, it's used as a descriptor of the color of simon's skin as we see it on the show. that would imply his skin used to be lighter at some indeterminate before-time and has been darkened by the sun. this is incorrect; that is the natural color of simon's skin. so stick to "tan skin" instead (not tan PERSON, mind you. his SKIN is tan, he is not). and i would gently suggest that if you take away any single thing from this post, make it ESPECIALLY this point, as someone more sensitive than me might interpret this error as some kind of retroactive whitewashing. and i don't want anyone here to get in trouble for simply not knowing.

4- pabellón criollo is one dish, yes, but it's four different FOODS. it's not something a newbie would be able to make off of a recipe (i don't know how to make it and i've been eating it all my life), and it's not something that's likely to be taught in just one day. also, if you're bringing it to a dinner or a potluck, you're bringing four separate food containers, not just one.

4b- also, venezuelan food, for the most part, is not particularly spicy. you CAN make it spicy if you want, but traditionally, it is not. it's flavorful, maybe even saucy depending on the dish, but rarely spicy. i know the joke of white people being unable to handle spice is funny, but there's also plenty of us hispanic people who are equally terrible at it, because there's different levels of spice in the food from different regions of latin america. besides, as a friend of mine perfectly put: we are living in the 21st century now. if you can eat mild mexican food, you should be able to handle traditional venezuelan food just fine. and i'm pretty sure there's mexican food in sweden. plus, wille would probably be more used to international food-- not only does he have the means, but having traditional meals in foreign countries is kind of part of the job.

5- while i'm at it: simon is definitely half venezuelan. this is canon as of S2. there is no other place in the world where that dish is called pabellón. please keep that in mind when you're writing and researching.

5b- this, along with several of the points above, is important because it's a bit of diaspora trauma that whenever we venture outside of latin america and people learn we're latino, they immediately assume we're mexican, or that our culture and traditions are the same as those of mexican people. it happens often, and it's incredibly annoying. not that there's anything wrong with mexico or mexican people-- they're lovely, and their traditions and culture and food are fantastic-- but we are not them, and treating us like we are is reductive. the rest of latin america can be very different and incredibly diverse, and it can be dispiriting when people treat us like we're all the same. so that is why it is important when writing about simon, his family or his venezuelan roots, that you take care to actually research things as they are in venezuela, and not just pick the low-hanging fruit of latino facts you might've learned through pop cultural osmosis, which eight times out of ten will be mexican-only because most hispanic people in the US are mexican and the US exports its media all over the world. i've learned to just roll my eyes at it by now, but some people might actually feel offended or hurt, and i'm sure nobody here intends for that to happen.

6- although simon speaks spanish, neither he nor sara nor his mother nor any aspect of his mother's culture is spanish. "spanish" is what people from spain call themselves. people from spanish-speaking latin american countries are not spanish; we are hispanic, or latino/a/e. "latinx" is… let's call it controversial, at least outside of the US. most people born and raised in latin america don't like it; i personally don't get offended if people use it, but i don't use the term myself. also, you can say "latin food" or "latin music," but we usually don't refer to PEOPLE as latin, but rather latino/a/e. if in doubt, just use latin american or hispanic. they're also conveniently gender neutral.

EDIT: @andthatisnotfake also brought up a very important point: "if you spell it latinx, it makes it harder for screen readers to read (or so I've been told) and some people depend on those, so there's another reason to avoid it." (the unpronounceability of that term is at least part of the reason why hispanic people who live in latin america don't like it.)

6b- never use "the latino/a" on its own to refer to people. "latino/a/e" is an adjective, not a noun, so you would say "the latino boy" or "the latino man" but never just "the latino." kinda like it would be weird to point out the one japanese man in a room as "the japanese." there are some nationality/ethnic terms that just don't work as nouns in english.

7- spanish is not simon's one native language-- or at least not any more than swedish is. he grew up in a mixed-race household, speaking two different languages. it's pointless to call spanish his native language when comparing it to swedish. both are his native languages. also, while we're at this, wille is probably at least bilingual (i'm assuming he can speak at least english), although he only has one native language. it's hardly a competition between the two boys as to who's more of a polyglot.

7b- simon wouldn't take classes on the spanish language-- like to learn how to SPEAK the language-- since spanish is one of his native languages. he wouldn't take them at hillerska, nor in university, nor elsewhere. he wouldn't be allowed. you're literally not allowed to take classes on your native language, nor get credit for said classes. trust me, those would've been an easy extra 24 credits for me in college if that was a thing.

EDIT: have been made aware (thanks, @rightsogetthis and @plantbasedfish!) that at least in sweden and in finland one IS allowed to take classes of your non-swedish/finnish native language, in certain circumstances. i have to say, i'd be pissed if i were taking my french classes alongside a french native speaker, but hey, the system's the system, i guess. ;) so i've struck this one out.

8- dear god please don't use google translate for your spanish translations. listen, i'm not judging-- i do it with other languages, too, when i'm in a pinch. but google translate is literally The Worst (tm) so i always try to either check with someone, or stick to the stuff i already know is correct. seriously, you don't want to know the kinds of crazy stuff GT can spit out that people actually put out in the real world; some of them are quite hilarious. if you're unsure, my ask box/messages are always open and i looooove helping people with this kind of thing, hispanic language and cultural stuff. i know it seems like i'm hardly around, but i do check my messages. don't be shy, even if it's something really small.

PS: while i'm talking pet peeves, malin is wille's bodyguard, not his butler. she's nice enough to attend to him at hillerska because there's no other palace staff around and she's literally stationed outside his door, but she wouldn't do that in the actual palace. there's other staff for that. she wouldn't even guard him at the palace, i don't think, because the royal palaces in sweden are guarded by the royal guard, not SÄPO. if anything, malin might spend the time while wille is in the palace grounds at a gatehouse (like in YR 2x03 and onwards) or at some kind of security office in the palace, and then get called whenever wille needs to go anywhere. she wouldn't be giving wille messages from the queen or walking guests to wille's room or anything like that. that's not her job. (sorry, i had to get that off my chest, lol.)

[familyabolisher]

Sorry to ask something somewhat related to the recent discourse, but do you have any advice to someone trying to teach themselves lit analysis or lit theory? Seems like most online advice ends at "get an English degree lol"

first of all sorry for leaving this for so long, between work and various other Demands in my life i didn’t really have the time/energy to sit down and write up a proper answer for a while. anyway: imo, what’s more important than working your way through a long list of critical theory is honing an ability to respond to a text yourself; being able to take notice of your emotional responses, being able to ask questions about what the text does and what it responds to and whether you think it succeeds or fails. questions like ‘what is the text about?’ are often too vague, and assume that critical practice is a task limited to investigating the ‘correct’ metaphysical properties of a text that we have to uncover, as well as presenting literature as wholly utilitarian (under this framework, a text becomes a vehicle for a ‘theme,’ and nothing more.) in the list below, i’ve tried to be a little more precise about the kinds of questions that can help you become a more confident + critical reader.

[disclaimer: i am not any kind of expert, i have studied english lit at degree level and i do read a lot / make a habit of talking about what i read, but i would not consider myself especially ‘qualified’ and nor should you. i’m explaining a process that works for me, not providing a one-size-fits-all solution to the question of analytical methodology.]

the essence of literary practice is that a text has a terrain where it has to be met with, and where it will be accountable to forces that are often beyond its control or beyond its immediate borders, and a terrain where it asks to be met with, and towards which it will attempt to navigate the reader; the reader’s job is to meet with it on both terrains, synthesise them, and respond to them. so, some of the questions you should be asking about a text include:

what is its context? this can mean a lot of things: when and where was it written, and how might the conditions contemporary to its creation be informing the inner working of the text? is it considered part of a particular literary movement; how does it interact with the core characteristics of that movement? does it invoke other works; if so, how does it respond to them? what biographical information about the author might be relevant to the piece? some books will come with an introduction which, if written well, would cover at least the outstanding details on this list; you can also have a look on wikipedia or other such websites to get a feel for the conditions under which the text was created.

how does it respond to this context? rather than assuming a text to be a passive body onto which its external conditions are exerting their unilateral force, we should always understand a text as being in active dialogue with the context that shaped it. what are the questions typically posed within the movement or genre to which it belongs; how does it answer these questions? does it build on its predecessors in any way? if it’s a responsive text (ie. consistently invoking an earlier text), what does it have to say about the text to which it responds; how does it develop or contravene the template from which it was building? how might it be responding to the questions of its time; which paradigms are challenged? which are endorsed, actively or tacitly? what goes unmentioned? i emphasise critical engagement with context so heavily because it’s often where the meat of the text can be found. 

what are the conditions which made this text possible? this is a little different to questions about context, which have a far broader scope; this is a question which seeks to treat a text not as a thing that came into existence of its own accord, but as a thing that emerged as a result of a process of material production that depends upon particular conditions. is it a mainstream publishing house, or an indie press, or self-published? how does this affect its authority, or the standard to which we hold it? how does this affect its relationship to narratives of cultural hegemony? what can that tell us about what hegemony can and cannot absorb? this is me being a big marxist about it but i think this question is woefully neglected in literary studies lol

why did the author make the choices that they made? one of the most important things to remember when it comes to literary analysis is that every choice made in a text is deliberate; every choice about what happens, what a character says and does, what a character looks like, how particular characters interact, how scenes and objects and settings are described, what prose style is employed, what word is used in a sentence, etc., is a deliberate choice being made by an external agent (ie. the author, sometimes/arguably also the editor, also the translator if a text is in translation), and those choices are accountable both to the deliberations of the author and the external cultural narratives with which they necessarily enter into a dialogue. ‘why does a character behave in a particular way’ is not a question that invites you to treat the story like a riddle for which you can find an ‘answer,’ but a question that engenders the following: what does their behaviour reveal about the character, and how might this be situated within the discourse of the wider text? does this behaviour reveal any biases on the part of the author? what sort of expectations does this behaviour establish, and are those expectations met or neglected or subverted? the same process can be applied to themes, settings, plot beats - anything, really. why is this particular adjective used - does it have other connotations that the author might want to draw attention to in relation to the object being described? why does this chapter end here and not here? nobody in a novel has agency that extends beyond the boundaries of the novel itself; part of the practice of analysis means discerning which choices were made and why, and whether those choices were good or bad. 

what is your response? analysis is a misleading term for this practice; it’s less about dispassionately picking at a text in search of an ‘answer’ and more about evaluation - assessing the text’s successes and failures and cultivating your personal response to it, which means paying attention to your responses as you go along. some people would argue that ‘did you like/dislike this’ is a juvenile question, but i would disagree - knowing whether you liked or disliked something and being able to describe why it evoked that reaction in you is crucial to an evaluative practice. a text can be conceptually excellent, but falter if its prose is clunky or uninspired or unimaginative; being able to notice when a text isn’t engaging you and asking why that is is an important part of this evaluative process. similarly, what do you make of the themes and developments present in the text; does it dissect its themes with precision, or does it make broad gestures towards concepts without ever articulating them fully? is it original? does it have sufficient depth to it? do you agree with it? are you compelled by it? if you were asked the questions that the novel tries to respond to, what would you say; do you think that the novel misses anything out? has it challenged your own perspective? what are its limitations?

literary analysis is a learned skill, but by its nature of being a skill it gets a lot easier over time, and some of these questions will become intuitive. a good way to hone the skill and develop a greater intimacy with a text is through close reading; this refers to the practice of selecting a passage (or even just a sentence) and picking it apart line by line (word by word, even) to describe in intimate detail exactly how the sentence(s) came to be formed in the way that it/they did. i’ll use the first few sentences of daphne du maurier’s rebecca as an example.

Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again. It seemed to me I stood by the iron gate leading to the drive, and for a while I could not enter, for the way was barred to me. There was a padlock and chain upon the gate. I called in my dream to the lodge-keeper, and had no answer, and peering closer through the rusted spokes of the gate I saw that the lodge was uninhabited.

so a close reading of these sentences might identify:

‘last night i dreamt i went to manderley again’ is in iambic hexameter; this rhythmically satisfying invocation makes for a smooth opening sentence, and contrasts with the longer, more complex sentences that follow on. the change in rhythm through such a contrast helps to maintain momentum throughout the paragraph.

the first sentence also introduces a few key pieces of information - that this story is being told from the first person, that we are opening with a dream (and that the narrative places stock in the significance of dreams), and that the speaker is going to manderley ‘again’ - ie. that this is opening after an event in which manderley was significant. that the speaker going to manderley ‘again’ in a dream holds importance implies an exile from manderley in the ‘real’ world; this already gives us hints at the broader shape of the narrative. 

the speaker’s intimacy with manderley and disregard for ‘telling’ the reader what it is (we do not get, like, ‘manderley is a house’ or something - the passage continues as though we know what manderley is already) helps to develop our sense of immersion in the dreamscape. it also sets manderley up as a place of immense significance.

both ‘it seemed to me’ and the later ‘i called’ have a matter-of-factness to them, a certain dry reporting of the events of the dream which, rather than situating the reader within the texture of the dream itself, refortify us as outside of it, listening to it be explained after the fact.

‘for a while i could not enter, for the way was barred to me’ continues the theme of implied exile that the first sentence gestured towards. the iambic trimeter on ‘the way was barred to me’ creates a lilting cadence which, along with the use of the passive voice, detaches the speaker from an emotive response to this being ‘barred’; it is a reported dream that will not consciously acknowledge the speaker’s feelings about being exiled from manderley at this time. (we instead infer these feelings through how the chapter develops.)

‘there was a padlock and chain upon the gate,’ as a short sentence, falls into the same matter-of-fact register as that which i alluded to above, partly through the use of the passive voice, and - as i explained earlier - varies the length of sentences such that the paragraph retains a particular buoyancy. 

the development from the speaker calling to the lodge-keeper to not getting an answer to seeing that the lodge is uninhabited tells a story wherein the speaker at first has authority such that a lodge-keeper would respond to her and let her in; this authority is negated by the lack of response; the lodge-keeper is found to be absent in a development that took place whilst she was herself away, presumably in the state of exile that we have inferred her to be in. ‘uninhabited’ is the kind of word you would expect to be used for an area of land, often with a colonial connotation; this introduces a theme that this chapter (& the book as a whole) goes on to develop, of manderley being a site of colonial decay; as reinforced by the ‘rusted spokes.’

in my experience, close reading is a technique best practiced on poetry, but it’s a very helpful skill to develop in general, and implementing it with prose can elucidate the nuances of a text far more clearly than you might initially realise. in a well-written novel, language is very deliberate and precise!

i think the best thing you can do to develop your skills as a critical reader is to read carefully, and to keep track of your responses to a text as best as possible. keeping a note of what you think a text achieves and how you respond to it each time you read one can be a good way of sorting your thoughts into something coherent and developing your ability to articulate a response. anyway, hopefully this has provided something resembling a guide for how to develop the thought processes that go behind critical practice!

[the-desilittle-bird]

Hi can i request a tom hiddleston x desi actress reader where she is pregnant and already has kids who hav hindi names which r ver cute and she craves indian food in the middle of interviews and shoots

AN - back again and I have plenty of requests and if anyone wants to request something then please feel free to send me them.

Thank you and Enjoy your reading!

Crazy Cravings

Tom Hiddleston x Desi!Reader

Summary: You are an actress but before that, you are pregnant…

Tag list: @shopping, @bbgmonsay, @lastwandastan, @eudximoniakr, @saraelizabeth26, @girlnred, @hc-geralt-23, @omgsuperstarg, @strangesthirdeye, @clea-strange-is-the-way, @lana, @kenzi-woycehoski, @nyx2021, @all-things-fandomstuck, @newt-scamander-is-hot-af, @moon-light1415, @candypurplebutterfly, @littlesatanicassholebitch, @nats-whore, @lady-athanasia, @chaotic-fangirl-blog, @thatgirlthatreadswattpad, @hyacinthus007, @shine101

Warnings: Tooth rotting fluff

“How are you feeling, meri jaan?” she heard the soothing voice of her husband before she felt his hand over her protruding belly. A giggle left her throat as he placed a kiss on her cheek, chuckling softly against her skin. “I feel better now,” she replies with a grin.

Tom hums, wrinkling his eyebrows as he settles down next to her on the leather couch as everyone around them worked hard to get the place ready for the interview which would start any moment now.

As actors, Tom and (Y/N) could never take a day off, especially when they were in the center of the show. And in times like this, with the lady pregnant, Tom found himself worrying more and more about her; constantly asking whether she was fine or not, if she needed something or not.

No wonder her cousins and mother started teasing him by calling him a “mother”.

“Hello, Tom and (Y/N),” greeted the lady who was supposed to take their interview. The pair smiled brightly, greeting the lady back whose name they learnt to be Bianca.

“Are we ready?” The director asked, earning a couple of nods from the crew and thumbs up from the guests. “Well then. Lights. Camera and Action.”

And then began the interview.

The beginning was always the same; introductions, their achievements, a few questions about their current show. But after that came the personal part, one that rendered the actor a bit uncomfortable as he tried to keep his life to himself.

“So, you two have a daughter together and another little Hiddleston is on the way,” the interviewer states with a smile, making the couple glance at each other with smile as (Y/N) placed a hand over her overgrown bump. “Yes.”

“And your daughter’s name is Kavya, isn’t it?” Bianca queries, struggling with the pronunciation for a while before Tom helps her. “Yes. We decided on an Indian name because they just sound so… soothing. Like hot chocolate in winters,” Tom gushed, his face reddening up as he glanced at his wife.

“Awww… that’s sweet. (Y/N), how is the pregnancy going for you?”

“Honestly, everything is fine except for the cravings,” she whined, making the Loki actor burst into a fit of laughter as he remembered the many nights when he woke up to finding his wife cooking some Indian dish or digging deep into the kitchen cabinets to find Maggi.

“What do you crave?” Bianca asks, her eyes gleaming with happiness as she watched her favourite Hollywood couple share a glance before laughing. Once the laughter dies down, Tom replies, “it can be the weirdest thing. One second she wants to have Jalebi and the next she wants to find some Namkeen.”

“I am the mix of sweet and savoury,” she argues instantly, making him smile as he nodded, leaning in to place a kiss on her temple, “meri khatti-meethi.”

(Y/N) merely gave him a side eye before returning her focus to their interviewer who had started her next question. “Correct me if I am wrong, but you were pregnant when you were about to finish shooting for this show, right?”

The couple nodded, prompting Bianca to continue, “did you crave anything on the set?” Before the misses could answer, Tom lets out a dramatic sigh before answering, “one fine morning, she comes to my trailer, donning her costume, and literally commands me ‘I want to have fish curry made by my mother, so talk to her, take the recipe and cook it.’ And leaves before I could nod. I was so bewildered and like what should I do.”

Everyone around them laughed loudly except for (Y/N) who glared daggers at her husband before leaning in to whisper softly into his ear.

“I want to eat Samosa.”

“Haye Bhagwaan!”

[casuallyawkardd]

In His Vice Pt II

Pairing: Dark!Miguel O'Hara x Wife!Reader

Summary: Miguel discovers a new world unlike any other in the Spiderverse

Warnings: NSFW MINORS DNI! non con in terms of pretending to be someone else, oral sex, lowkey sub!Miguel?? overstimulation, manipulative vibes, not fluent in Spanish so correct me plzzz

A/N: This one is from Miguel's perspective because apparently I like experimenting with those now. Most chapters are gonna be first person, but this one is kind of for context. Dividers by cafekitsune

PART I | TAGLIST

"Watch! Watch me, okay!?"

"Aye, mija, I'm watching." Gaby laughed as she ran across the field, Miguel following at a slower pace. She was kicking the soccer ball as she went, dribbling just how he had showed her. Stopping, Gabriela rested a foot atop the ball, turning to face her father. It was a sight to behold, headband doing little to keep her flyaways down, cheeks ruddy from running around, brown eyes that matched his dazzled by the golden sun. Miguel smiled, there she was. His little girl. His everything. His Gaby.

"Are you ready, Papi?"

"Yes, for the hundredth time chiquita, I'm ready for your trick." His answer seemed to suffice, Gaby shooting another toothy grin his way before facing the goal. She adjusted her position so the ball was nestled between her legs, ankles gripping the leather tightly. Then she thrust her body forward, performing a handstand and taking the ball with her. Perhaps it was more of a roll, momentum moving her little body forward and throwing the ball towards the goal.

In reality, it wasn't anything special. One of those tricks that to a kid seemed like the most amazing thing ever, but to Miguel was nothing more than a clumsy maneuver. And yet as the ball barely passed the goal line and Gaby looked up at him expectantly, it was the greatest feat he'd ever witnessed. "Did you see that?" Gaby asked, scrambling to her feet to get to him.

"I did," he responded, kneeling so that they were eye level. Miguel waited to finish his thought on purpose, smirking as she waited for his answer with an obvious eagerness. "It was perfect, mi vida."

And that's when the video ended, just like it always did. Crimson eyes stared at the still image, stopped as the two were mid embrace. Miguel was tired, he knew he should probably get some sleep, but there was still work to do. And if he wasn't going to do it, no one would.

"Miguel." No response. "Migueeeeel." Still nothing. "Oh Dark Garfield~"

"What now, Lyla? I'm in the middle of something," he turned his head to look at the hologram sitting on his control panel.

Lyla side-eyed the monitor in front of him, looking back at him with a bored look. "Yeah, I can tell."

"What do you want?" he spoke through gritted teeth, the AI taking her time and adjusting her tinted glasses.

"New universe detected on the border of the arachnopoly-whatever."

"And?"

Lyla smirked, "Why don't you take a look for yourself."

Miguel let out a deep breath through his nose, moving across the platform and pressing a button that showed the map of the multiverse. The room went black, the strings of the universe appearing midair, coming together into a familiar, glowing web. Lyla took control then, various worlds flying past Miguel until settling on the one in question. It seemed like any of the others, its strings a little faded compared to some, but the universe itself seemed intact.

"What exactly am I looking at here?"

"I am so glad you asked," Lyla chirped, pixelating in front of him once again and pacing around the image in question. "I stumbled across this while running a safety check. Yah know, to make sure none of the universes were on the verge of collapse."

"Get to the point."

"Ugh, you're no fun," with a snap of her fingers, Lyla manifested a screen listing the data Miguel was seeking. "At first I thought it was nothing special, your standard other universe with another version of Spider-Man, but the closer I looked I started to realize that-"

"There's no Spider-Man in this universe," Miguel finished, scrolling through the file again to see if he had missed that crucial detail. Brows now knitted together, he lifted his head, "How is that possible? Who's there to defend against the super villains? Vulture, Green Goblin, Venom?"

"They don't exist in this one," Lyla explained, crossing her arms as she examined the notes over his shoulder, most likely not reading any of them. "No villains, no Spider-Man, nothing."

"How is this possible?" It was perplexing to say the least. Sure, Miguel had theorized that there were universes out there, beyond the ones that connected every version of Spider-Man together, but he was precise when designing the multi-dimensional travel devices. Meticulous to make sure the only universes that would connect were directly related to the arachno-humanoid poly multiverse.

"I have a theory..."

"I'm listening," Miguel's eyes narrowed at the AI standing next to him.

Lyla smirked, waving her hands and making everything disappear; the holographic images replaced by screens depicting video footage, which slowly began to pop up throughout the darkness. "I took the liberty of collecting intel for yah, taking the initiative and all that," she bragged, "my guess is this universe happened to have just enough similarities with the other universes to squeak through the cracks. As you can see, it does have some canon events checked off. The creation of Alchemax and Oscorp. The birth of potential spiders such as Peter Parker, Gwen Stacy, Jessica Drew and-"

"Me," Miguel interrupted her rambling, eyes glued to a video of himself, or rather a version of himself, a sense of deja vu washing over him.

"Yep, you too," Lyla agreed before picking up where she left off. "Like I was saying, this universe seems to have had a few canon events, but none of the core canon events that follow the Spider-Man timeline. No being bitten by a radioactive spider, no dead uncle or experiments gone wrong that could lead to super villain creation. I've been running scans on repeat and there still hasn't been any alerts regarding the creation of a Spider-Man or-"

"That'll be all, Lyla," Miguel dismissed the hologram, who went quiet. He didn't see, but she was eyeing him skeptically, as if trying to read his mind. Watching for something that wasn't there before blipping out of existence and leaving Miguel alone. His hands went to his hips, jaw clenched in concentration as he merely observed. No harm in watching afterall.

Video after video of his life in another universe, one where everything seemed to go right. The Miguel in this universe was lucky, he still kept in touch with his mother and brother, got a boss who wasn't a power hungry piece of shit, a version of him that didn't have to alternate his DNA to shake off an addiction. In fact, he was pretty sure Rapture didn't exist in this universe.

And then he saw her. The Gaby in this universe was younger than the one he knew, but he'd recognize her anywhere. Video after video played of the two of them together, a desire he thought was buried clawing to the surface. The memory of all that had gone wrong before pulled him back to himself, sighing heavily as he cut the footage and returned things to how they were. Miguel distracted himself with his work, much like he usually did. Compartmentalize and put away, just how he'd taught himself to do.

It is a possibility, isn't it? The thought hooked into his skull. This universe is unlike any other we've come across. Could it have other exceptions? It was futile to rely on 'what ifs', Miguel knew that all too well. Putting the lives of millions at risk, all for his own selfish benefit, that wasn't a possibility. And yet his fingers were already moving, typing commands into Lyla's system to collect as much data as she could on this new earth. His downtime was spent going over the footage, reading every new development and discovery.

Curiosity grew to be obsession. Suddenly this universe wouldn't be like the last one. He'd thought through every potential outcome, every way that something could grow wrong. The collapse of the universe? Unlikely. The past was due to an oversight, tampering with the canon too much leading to destruction. What about the Miguel that originally came from this universe? If he was like the others, he'd probably be dead soon anyway, a potential threat to his plan, but one he could worry about if a problem arose.

Pieces were falling into place, Gaby's sweet giggles a siren song as he listened to them over and over and over again. This time will be different, he reminded himself, he was prepared this time. Knew the risks. It had to work, the plan was already set in motion. It would work.

Miguel took his time to prep, partly so he could be ready for anything and also to wait and see what would unfold. Based on what he saw of this universe, squeezing himself into this Miguel's life could be easier than he had anticipated. Being a version of himself meant that he too came with flaws, ones that Miguel knew intimately. A workaholic who thrived on routine, Miguel could work with that. Routine meant he was predictable. Predictability meant vulnerability. An opening he could exploit.

His research merely helped with deciding when and how to insert himself. The footage was his primary source of information, making it so Miguel was able to put faces to names, flesh out relationships and dynamics, figure out where he needed to start so that he could make it better.

Taking the place of himself wasn't foreign to him, confident he could do it again, if not better than the first time he'd done it. What he didn't expect this time around was the hassle of cleaning and covering his tracks. The switch had to be seamless, no witnesses and no trace of what had occurred in the dark of the night. That was why he was in such a bad mood when he finally got to the house. He had brought a change of clothes, something clean to cover the mess, but he hadn't considered the oncoming storm. The shoes he wore were wet, caked with mud and stained as he struggled to take them off in the entryway. He was planning how he wanted to get rid of them when-

"Miguel?"

His body stiffened, slowly standing upright as he looked for the source of the voice. He had almost forgotten about the wife, remembering her face from the videos. So much smaller in person, he could hear how fast her heart was beating as he drew near, see a nervous sweat as it started at her temple and worked its way down. Miguel was short with her, their conversation only preventing him from reaching what he sought. His eyes only briefly acknowledged the direction she pointed in before he continued on his path.

Gaby was a breath of fresh air, one that made all the pain and frustration of today and the ones before worth it. There was no way she knew how much he loved her, the lengths he would go to to be where he sat now. His hand reached out, hesitantly cupping the side of her face while she slept. There was so much he wanted to do in this moment, so much he had to say. Things that told her how happy he was to see her and things that she wouldn't be able to understand. And yet she was precious, sound asleep and unaware of the thunder and wind outside, he wouldn't dare wake her.

The illusion of solitude was ruined as light footsteps pattered down the hallway. Miguel's teeth grinded together in frustration, knowing to whom they belonged to. At least she didn't come in, didn't usurp this moment between father and daughter. He had run through countless different scenarios of what he could do with her. Divorce would be what most would do, but that would lead to complications. Custody battles and court appearances that he didn't have time for nor the energy to deal with. Killing her had crossed his mind, sitting in his brain for longer than he'd care to admit. Even just taking Gaby had potential, for there were places he could go that neither her nor any authorities could follow.

But none of that would work. Gabriela loved her father and her mother. Separating them in any way would upset her and he couldn't have that. So for now, he'd stick to the plan he had conjured. Taking over as this earth's Miguel was the easy part, maintaining it wasn't going to be so simple.

The first night was spent memorizing the layout of the house, fingers gliding along the walls as if to remind himself this was real. That the rooms, and everything in them that he'd been seeing on the monitors, was within his reach. The details would come with time, things like where they kept the silverware and what clothes belonged to which drawers, but for now he had time to prep. Tomorrow would be his first real day in this world and everything had to be perfect.

Miguel was accustomed to sleepless nights, the thought of a quick dose of caffeine being what got him through helping get Gaby ready for the day. She was better awake than she was asleep, lively and all smiles as she talked his ear off about trivial matters. She mentioned 'craving' pancakes, actually using the term and he complimented her on her extensive vocabulary. That first hour where it was just the two of them made him feel as though he was floating. A dream that was almost too real, except he knew he didn't have to wake up. That is until the wife had made yet another inconvenient appearance.

At least she's pretty, was the thought that crossed his mind, now that the light of day revealed her features better. It had been some time since Miguel had paid a woman any mind and yet here he was, married to a complete stranger. She had gentle features, something he wasn't familiar with seeing. Miguel had spent years fighting villains, whose faces were twisted and ugly, scarred and wrinkled to reflect their vile nature. Even the other spiders had their own flaws, drooping eyes and dark circles, beaten down by hard lives and the weight of responsibility. And yet this woman's blemishes consisted of faded acne scars and the beginnings of smile lines. Hair messy because she had the audacity of getting a full night's rest.

He gained a good understanding of her on his first day. The wife of a negligent husband, she was headstrong. Independent in her decision making and the one to take control during the day's activities. Deciding where to stop for lunch, what beach to spend the afternoon at and which movie to end the night on. It was an admirable quality, some he'd seen many lack, stepping up to the plate as a mother and wife instead of admitting defeat and crying 'woe is me' because her husband would rather work overtime than fuck her.

And a good mother she was, much to his chagrin, attentive to Gaby's needs and simultaneously putting her foot down when needed. There were traits he could use to his benefit, while others he'd have to teach out of her. The day could come where she might suspect him, seeing as she didn't seem like an idiot either, meaning he had to have her under his thumb before then. For now, he'd sit idle and gather more information over the weekend. Take what he learned and begin work in the following week.

Gaining her trust was the first step, play the role of the good husband she thought she deserved. The other Miguel's routine was hers as well, certain expectations in place. Mornings were hectic, his wife moving as though she had a million things to do at once. She'd almost run into him as he stepped into the kitchen, frustration briefly appearing on her face before she soothed it away, the transition so smooth it seemed practiced.

"Miguel, I need you to make your own breakfast this morning, I still have to get Gaby ready and-"

"I already did that."

A pause, her body still in the doorway, watching as he poured himself some coffee, nonchalant in his movements. "Oh, well then I guess that just leaves the lunches..."

"I got them put together last night."

"Oh." That simple syllable was his signal that things were going according to plan. A sound that was a mix of surprise and satisfaction, not expecting him to lend a helping hand and content when he did. At least in terms of the little things.

That's something her Miguel lacked, always focusing on the big picture and overlooking the minute details. But he thrived on noticing what most didn't, whether it be adjusting a tiny wire in one of his gizmos or leaving a glass of water on her nightstand; she'd always get up in the middle of the night for a glass of water. Twelve twenty-seven to be exact. And it had to be cold, which was why he made sure to add ice beforehand.

She was hesitant to the changes, at least at first. Waiting for the day he'd slip back into how her Miguel would act, he'd always have to be two steps ahead of her if he wanted to do any simple favors. He found himself actually enjoying the little game forming between them, a challenge to see who could do better than the other.

Then he started to think he was getting too good at playing the part of husband. Her eyes lingered longer than he liked, hands holding instead of brushing against his hands and body. It was torturous in a way, having to endure her intimate touching and kissing when, in his eyes, they had only met a couple weeks ago. But it came with the role he had thrust upon himself, the incentive of Gaby keeping him from snapping his new wife in two.

He knew it was a matter of time until she'd want more than half hearted kisses, her desires coming to fruition late one night. Miguel took his time getting ready for bed, brushing his teeth until he was convinced his gums were bleeding and that the bristles of the brush would be forever bent. Her scent was evident, already aroused and pretending not to be as she flipped through her book. It was a sweet smell, tempting even, and that's what pissed him off even more. He was here for Gaby, to be the father he deserved to be. And Miguel was not one to divert from a plan.

"Miguelito," she said his name so sweetly, book tossed aside as he got into bed. Her hands unreasonably soft against his bare chest, face coming close to his. She leaned in to kiss him, but Miguel turned away at the last second, her lips ghosting against the side of his face. He caught himself before he did it again, allowing her to turn his head back and kiss him; let her tongue glide against his lips, parting them as she deepened the kiss.

Her body shifted, straddling his lap and rubbing herself against him. His sweatpants did nothing to protect him from the warmth of her sex, Miguel softly gasping against her lips. His hands grasped her hips, stilling them and she smiled against his skin. She was teasing and he was more than aware of it, the thought of her having the upper hand making his blood boil in more ways than one.

"Baby, I..." she trailed off, clearly conflicted. Some inner turmoil he was supposed to know, but had yet to understand. Settling on a small smile, she pecked him on the tip of his nose, "I've missed you."

Miguel almost scoffed, as if it were an inside joke only he was in on. He knew she didn't miss him. She had no idea that the man in her bed, the one she was kissing along the torso of, untying the sweatpants and nudging them out of the way of, was not her husband. And yet every touch made his skin feel like it was on fire, a heat that made his head hazy. She took his cock well in her mouth, as if having done it countless times before. It was bliss, warm and wet, her tongue gliding along the vein that made his eyes roll back into his skull.

The thoughts he managed to create were interrupted with every suck and bob of her head, hips bucking instinctively and groaning in frustration when her hands pinned them down. A low growl rumbled in his chest, a large hand gripping her hair and lifting her head. A loud pop resounded in their bedroom, Miguel taking in the sight of her. Eyes half-lidded, face flushed and mouth agape; she was breathing heavy, her tongue sticking out teasingly to poke at the slit on the head of his cock.

Reluctantly, at least that's what he told himself, Miguel's grip slowly loosened, allowing her to sink down onto his shaft once again. His hands found purchase in the bedsheets, gripping them tightly as she continued to fuck him with her mouth, pushing him closer and closer to the brink until he could bear it no longer.

"Stop, I'm gonna-" but she relented, sinking down until he could feel her throat clench around his girth. A strangled moan escaped him, muscles tensing as she swallowed every drop of his cum. The arrogant look on her face when she finally sat upright had a new kind of anger seething in his chest. Bested in a way that made him vulnerable, all while she smugly wiped away any excess with a dainty thumb.

His fingers wrapped around her throat, pulling her to him and wiping the confidence from her face. "Lie the fuck down," he demanded, voice low and slow so she understood him clearly. She complied, limbs remembering how to move as they switched places; Miguel hovering over her as she rested back against the pillows. One hand held him up while the other trailed up her thigh, hiking up her night shirt and exposing her to his hungry eyes. "Maldita puta," Miguel scoffed at the sight of her lack of underwear, pussy exposed and her scent invading his nostrils.

Confidence overshadowed uncertainty, Miguel knowing that he may not have tasted her before, but that the version of Miguel in this universe wouldn't hold a candle to him. Her moans were the evidence, starting soft and growing until she had to keep herself quiet. "You don't want to wake up Gaby, right putita?" he mocked her, returning the treatment she gave him tenfold.

Her slick made him salivate, fluids combining into an intoxicating concoction on his tongue. It made him want more, delving in as deep as he could and suckling her bud when he wanted more. Miguel took his time, enjoying how she squirmed; thrilled at how little effort it took to keep her just where he wanted.

When he felt her thighs beginning to tremble, he knew she was close. Miguel only delved deeper, not just licking and pressing, but nipping and sucking at her most intimate place. Her moans became high pitched, body shuddering beneath his as Miguel indulged in her release. When he came up for air, he enjoyed seeing how her chest heaved with every breath, a thin layer of sweat on her skin that made her look as though she were glowing.

And yet he wasn't done, smirking against her mound before slowly licking a line up her slit, a warning that there was still more to come. "Baby, please-" her protests died on her tongue as he didn't just eat, but devoured every inch of her cunt. His thumb came to massage her now sensitive bud, while his tongue teased her folds.

Her hips bucked up against him, Miguel's large hand splaying across her stomach to keep her still. Her squirming didn't deter him, in fact making him double his efforts. Miguel felt his own arousal resurge, grinding himself against the silk sheets. Her second orgasm came quicker than the first, Miguel smirking against her skin when she shuddered and moaned.

With that, Miguel decided to give her a moment of peace, sitting upright on his knees to hover over her. His new wife was a mess, gasping for breath and fighting to keep her eyes open. It stirred something inside him, a feeling he hadn't paid mind to in a long time.

"C'mon now, princesa," he cooed in a sickly sweet tone, hooking her thighs with his arms and dragging her forward; their hips now flush against one another. His smirk only widened when he felt her jump upon contact with his hardened length, twisting his expression into one of mock innocence. "This is just the beginning."

Tags:

@lazy-idate @lilly5799 @yougavemeyourheartyouknow @candlewitch-cryptic @thel0v3hashira143 @a-lost-soul @spectr3inl0ve @leftcollectiongardener @slodr4wzstuff @miyababbby

[radioactive-earthshine]

Why Bart/Kon Shouldn't Be A Rare-Pair: The Konbart Manifesto and Friendship Deep-Dive.

This is a long post with a read more cut further down.

Trigger Words: Death, Depression

I feel like during the time Kon and Bart were both out of comic continuity a lot of comic enjoyers 1.) forgot that these two were intensely close and 2.) in the case of newer fans never even realized the depths of their friendship even prior to Young Justice 2019.

This post is going to primarily focus on Bart and Kon's friendship and how they work together both presented in the comics, and what is implied through dialog and circumstantial events.

Even if you are not looking at what is presented below through the shipping lens, what I am going to compile here at the very least showcases that they have an intense friendship and solidifies that Kon is one of Bart's lightening rods and these two are relevant to each other in ways that I rarely see explored in fan works.

Bart in fanworks with Kon is frequently more or less there as a backdrop to another ship, is there for light moments or just is glazed over as "not a best friend" when the comics make it blatant that Bart and Kon are intensely close.

So let me explain their history and why they work so well together as friends first, and how the ship makes sense and should not be considered rare or a "crack-ship" as they are mutually affectionate.

1.) Kon and Bart share a ridiculous amount of things in common.

I talk about this frequently on this blog and others have pointed this out before in separate posts, but their similarities and sense of belonging to their respective worlds are factors that absolutely bind them closer and in special ways that others do not.

Unfortunately, this is (mostly) an indirect example of their dynamic because DC either sees no value in exploring these commonalities, or writers just have not recognized these details to explore them to fulfil deeper connections between Kon and Bart.

The exception to this was when Bart acknowledged their own sense of isolation and 'weirdness' in Young Justice 2019 The Emancipation of Bartholomew.

"I don't know who to talk to about any of this. No one can relate. Not even the other Flashes. I think that's what you and I always kind of had in common, Conner. We are not like everyone else. Even in our Superman and Flash columns... We are the most different." - Bart

Bart is ultimately correct here as both he and Kon share that when it comes to their family columns they stand out and have history and abilities that is isolating to the point where others in their families might not be able to connect to or relate to them in specific ways, but that doesn't stop their respective families from trying and loving them regardless.

Other than their isolation, they also share in common some key things that happened to them in their lives and some traits that a writer could absolutely capitalize on to make a strong story and it binds them closer together.

Here's a non-exhaustive list of past formative events that both Kon and Bart share.

They both were victims of dubiously moral scientists at the orders of cruel men.

They both do not have proper childhoods due to their unique births, younger life situations, and weird aging (see #4).

Both have genius level intellects, but no one really acknowledges it or takes it seriously.

They both had weird aging outside of Sins of Youth.

Both were cloned by cruel people and their clones replace them so successfully they fooled their friends and family that the imposter was them.

Both at varying times had members of their respective families not believe in them and questioned their integrity, morality and ability to be a hero.

Both mutually shared trauma associated with Bart's first "death" on Apokolips that others in their team did not.

Both had their mentors 'die' while they were not present and had to have the news delivered to them after it already happened. For Bart this was Max, and for Kon it was Jim Harper.

Both were raised by elderly people.

Both for a good period of time lived in the same state just hours from each other.

Both essentially 'grew up' and changed their entire identities overnight which can be fairly read as an expression of deep depression.

They both died just within months of each other.

To counterpoint #5 they were both part of Tim's cloning adventures in present time and in a hypothetical future.

They were both erased from existence in the reboot, and both remembered each other and everything about the world before it rebooted.

As I mentioned before, the list above is not really mentioned between Kon and Bart in the comics, and they do not have any real conversations about how they share various trauma as comic narration tends to avoid characters hashing out feelings unless it is to serve growth that a writer wants to develop. However in a realistic scenario there is a strong likelihood that Kon and Bart would realize their commonality and feel kindred and comforted to know that there is someone else out there in the world that understands what they went through on a deep, personal level.

2.) Kon and Bart are FRIENDS outside of Young Justice and Teen Titans.

This is a bullet point that is a 'no duh' for all of them as each member of Young Justice/Teen Titans has been shown to be friends outside of beating the daylights out of bad guys, and many others have been shown to have deep bonds outside of 'work', but this point goes back to the introduction in that I feel a lot of people just have neglected to understand their friendship.

In their Young Justice days especially their friendship is unique and it is implied it started before the formation of team as Kon knew Bart's secret identity prior to the JLA: World Without Grown-Ups special.

Pre Young Justice/Early Friendship

Kon encourages Bart by name during the climax of their battle.

Throughout this special Kon refers to Bart casually by his first name and there is nowhere within this issue that seems to imply that Bart reveals this information during their team up. Kon knew his name beforehand which suggests either Bart told him, or he learned it second-hand from within the hero community.

Tim knows his name because of Batman.

This shows that there was a level of TRUST they had in each other even before the formation of Young Justice. To note, Kon does not learn Bart's name at all in Superboy and the Ravers #7 either when they first meet, so somewhere between then and the JLA: WWGU event Kon discovered or was told Bart's name.

Within this issue we see small crumbs that suggest Kon and Bart got to know a little bit about each other beforehand as there was some friendly teasing, banter and encouragement exchanged between them (even picking on Tim together).

Kon teases Bart and Bart remembers this for years afterwards, flipping it on Wally in his own series later.

Kon and Bart work together to win and are obnoxious about it, as they should be.

Also, when it came to Bedlam devising ways to defeat Tim, Kon and Bart by having each other imagine ways to kill one another, Kon was close enough by then to devise a way that was very specific and effective - by trapping Bart in a contraption that prevented him from moving at all.

Kon apologizes for imagining putting Bart into a restraining bench as his way to defeat him.

This again implies that Kon got to know enough about Bart to know what would cripple him in a fight; you can make an argument that he just thought it up on the spot basing it on first impressions, but if you read the issue entirely the implication still directs that they were friendly beforehand even if in the comics they had not interacted except for in Superboy and the Ravers #7.

The logical assumption is that Bart and Kon knew each other before this and were friendly.

Young Justice

Kon and Bart yet again tease and frustrate Tim together. This is reoccurring.

While they were in Young Justice we get to finally see their friendship really pick up because they finally had a comic series that they shared which meant they could grow and develop. Within this series we get to see them interact with each other in ways that are unique to them.

Young Justice #9.

Kon and Bart will often play games together during down-time in Young Justice (also in Teen Titans), such as Chess where Bart proves to be more calm and collected about it than Kon is as a counterbalance.

Young Justice #31

By the middle part of Young Justice it is well established that Kon is Bart's go-to person for entertainment within their team as depicted in the above issue where Bart desperately tries to convince Kon to break from his television program to be with him. We can assume Bart's suggestions are things that they have done together before. What is also interesting to note is Bart is asking to do things with him as Bart Allen, not as Impulse.

Young Justice #53

To further solidify that they are close friends and interact in ways specific to them, Kon and Bart not only play traditional games, but they took the time to joke with each other to come up with a whole new game that has no winner, it's just interaction and fun. This sort of interaction is unique specifically to them as the others are not part of this behavior.

Teen Titans/2003-2011

By the time the Teen Titan years roll around they both have assumed new identities, one where Kon takes a step back into Conner Kent as an attempt to live more normally (something he's always wanted to do), and one where Bart takes up the Kid Flash mantle. They both experience changes in drastic (and sudden) ways, and even through some offensive writing and general character assassinations, they still are shown having a unique and intense bond specific to each other.

For the sake of pacing I am only going to explore a couple moments that stood out to me (this series is 100 issues long!) that show both of them being close emotionally as by now they are emotionally bound friends.

When Kon discovers that half his DNA came directly from Lex Luthor and was mind controlled to attack his friends, naturally everyone was trying their best to stop him.

Bart was ordered to "take him down" being the person in the best place to do so, and instead of going heavy handed Bart decided to try to reason with Kon instead.

Bart doesn't want to hurt Kon. And he refuses to do so at personal sacrifice to himself.

Teen Titans Volume 3 #25

Unfortunately Bart was not successful here but he tried very hard to reach him and appealed to who he knew Kon was at a deep level.

The important thing to note is during this wretched time in their tenure a lot of things happen; one of the main ones being them both dying within months of each other (one of their shared commonalities). Kon died first, and then Bart followed.

During Bart's funeral during Countdown #43 they play a video Bart recorded of himself basically wishing everyone well and encouraging them to not be sad that he was dead. However there are a couple moments that stand out...

In Bart's speech he is addressing everyone in his team, but he specifically mentions Kon in two key moments; he is addressing and speaking directly to Kon as if everything is well even though at this time Kon is dead.

Kon never got to hear this.

Bart and Kon by this point have solidified a strong bond where perhaps when Bart was thinking about making this recording he knew that Kon deserved a special acknowledgement to help him in his grieving process, which in the past Kon did not handle well in regards to Bart (I will explain below.) After Kon died Bart either didn't have the time to make a new video or just didn't want to revisit it again and left it as it was mentioning Kon regardless that he was not going to hear it.

Bart and Kon did not stay dead for long and eventually came back, once they did they had to deal with the aftermath of being dead together...

One of those aftermaths being Kon's relationship with Cassie had started to shift in ways that neither knew how to deal with, nor did they know why it was changing as both were dealing with personal stuff at the time. They are teenagers, after all.

In an attempt to try to get advice, Kon went specifically to Bart for help; not Tim, Gar, Cyborg or Clark or any other 'guy'. He saw Bart as someone he trusted and someone whose input he valued. There is a great level of trust they both have for each other as talking about relationships is a vulnerable and personal step.

Teen Titans Volume 3 #83

Ignore the bad writing on Cassie's part who in this for whatever reason thinks Bart won't respect her if he knows there are relationship issues, and implies that Kon is not allowed to ask for advice from one of their closest friends. Kon breaks up with Cassie a few issues later citing that he wants to give her space to focus on being a leader, and that he wants to retreat (further) into Conner Kent. This is a decision he made himself and it is unknown if he reached out to Bart again for advice.

While the outrageous events of TTv3 kept Kon and Bart extremely busy, we do still get hints that they still do things together outside of being heroes and Kon still reaches out to Bart for help.

Superboy 2011 #3

During this time in comics canon (2003-2011), Bart and Kon live only 4 hours away in the same state (Kansas). Bart being a speedster obviously can be right there with him nearly instantly no matter where he lives, but the closeness also opens more doors of familiarity between them and more relatability.

Kon reaches out to Bart for yet more help when he suggests to Bart to race him for charity so he can help the farmers in Smallville that lost a substantial amount of revenue. Bart gladly accepts and their race has some great FUN moments as they banter and talk about current events.

Kid Flash Lost #1

In one of the final comics of the pre-boot world Bart still references that he watches movies with Kon casually, specifically showcasing that even in a dystopian future where The Matrix is realized, Bart is thinking about Kon and everything they do together.

Bart and Kon are friends, and their friendship has been unwavering without a lapse in trust as both have been anchors for each other; no matter what happens, if the other is alive then it is a good day and they are likely going to be gravitating towards one another.

3.) Kon's breakdown over Bart's "death" and coma.

I don't really see a lot of people talk about this part of Kon's history (even from hardcore Kon fans) unless it is specifically from a Konbart shipping lens and I am not sure why, because everything about the two issue mental breakdown is heartbreaking just on its own with no shipping element added.

Also in one of the issues it implies that Kon has (while subconsciously) bi-curious feelings towards Bart.

The start of Kon's breakdown begins on Apokolips where they were stranded because he got in a fight with Tim and they crashed there. Because of that fight it led to all of them getting traumatized by Granny Goodness, but Bart suffered the worst when his own scout was killed in front of Cassie, Cissie, Kon and himself.

Impulse #77

As a result, Bart was comatose for weeks and up until he woke up no one knew if he would survive.

Kon took it extremely badly. Not only is he himself traumatized from having witnessed it viscerally, but he also blamed himself for it happening in the first place.

Superboy #91

Kon is writing a letter to Dr. Serling back home while he is still in space and the entire letter is... heartbreaking as he pens out his own grief and trauma in a personal way.

At this point in time, Kon has accepted that Bart is going to die. Kon has essentially lost all hope that Bart will recover and he blames himself entirely for it.

Even when he gets back to Earth in Superboy #92 he still is having PTSD symptoms from everything that happened on Apokolips and Bart is still at the forefront of his thoughts along with everything else that happened there...

(Please remember the title of this issue it is important)

Below is Kon's personal dialog that shows he has intrusive and frequent thoughts about Apokolips, in particular Bart dying and the Lobo clones dying.

"Now Bart's dead. Ba-dump-bump."

"Apokolips. Satan's top choice for vacation spots, after Suicide Slum and Binghampton in winter." "Us. Young Justice. Stranded. Forgotten, unwashed P.O.W.S." "Impulse, a piece of him. All of him. I don't get it, anymore." "He died badly. The smell -- My fault." "The legion of naked Lobos. If there is one grain of comedy in any of this, it's the legion of naked Lobos..." "...'Cept they all died, too. "The aftermath, you don't have to see "A.I." to believe a robot can get very, very, upset." "Just try breaking the news to Red Tornado."

"Ah. Yes, and there's Impulse again. The rest of him. None of him. So whacked out on having watched and felt his own death..." "Cut to: the smell of Impulse frying." "Dead Lobos." "Torture." "Death." "Torture." "..." "Death."

"I am so out of here." - Kon-El

The first two pages alone set the tone for the rest of the issue even if it takes a manic tone with a theme of Alice in Wonderland as a fever dream from hell. Before we get there though we are hit with two panels that are... interesting.

"Hey. Mrs. K., Got any apple pie in the fridge? Oh, one piece is fine. Impulse is in a stupid coma, so he won't -- Hold me? Tell me the war never happened? Pet my head?" - Kon-El

When you look at these two panels the first interpretation is that Kon is implying that Bart won't be around to hold him and pet his head.

The second interpretation is that Kon was going to say that Bart wasn't there to enjoy the pie (thus one piece was fine) and that he had a break in thought and was directing his desire for Martha to hold him and comfort him.

Either way you look at these panels and choose to interpret them it could go either way considering Kon's fragile mental state and how close of friends they were, and where his TWENTY HOUR dream takes him, it could really have been that he was wishing Bart would hold him.

That Kon wants Bart to be alive to comfort and balm the terror that he faced while on Apokolips.

Hm. Hmmm. Okay.

So Bart's dressed as the White Rabbit (remember the title?) but not only that in Kon's own dream he has him make a reference to it being a Playboy Bunny Suit.

I'm just going to leave that there because nothing else can be said about it.

These particular panels have been floating around for ages without context and you don't need much other than to know that the other two are Cherub and Kon's dead girlfriend Tana Moon.

Tana was killed in the Sins of Youth arc by Amanda Spence specifically to hurt Kon.

Cherub was a clone created by Amanda Spence using Bart and Tana Moon's DNA. Amanda shot her in the head while Kon was having a heart-to-heart conversation with her, and as far as he knows she is dead at this point.

And then there is Bart who Kon has resigned multiple times is already dead despite the fact he is in a coma.

Two of the above were direct love interests that were hurt specifically because of Kon, to hurt him, and in his own dream Kon is placing Bart in with them as a person he loves who he is responsible for getting hurt.

The line that Kon might "secretly think of Impulse as a chick" is definitely skirting some lines of bi-coding, or at least getting as close to it as possible for a comic that was released in 2001 which was an incredibly homophobic era. Also it is fun to note that entire dream sequence is colored in bi-flag colors which was adopted in 1998, it was likely unintentional but you can take that as you will.

Kon's fever dream lasted twenty hours and after this issue he was back to "normal" and this breakdown is never mentioned again.

However considering that Bart's own "Death Video" in Countdown #43 had him talking specifically to Kon a couple of times, the two of them might have discussed what happened on Apokolips which led Bart to have the foresight to try to make things easier in a "Death is nothing at all, I'm only in the other room" sort of way. Because by then Bart knew that if he died, people would be upset. Kon extremely so.

4.) Kon helps Bart overcome his fear of using his scouts just by existing.

After the trauma-inducing terror that happened on Apokolips Bart himself was dealing with a bout of PTSD and he took a temporary absence from being Impulse and being a part of Young Justice.

To compliment Kon's own letter from Superboy #91 Bart claims that being Impulse "Isn't fun anymore" in mirrored trauma.

Bart eventually got to a point mentally where he found purpose being Impulse again, but he was extremely weary of using his scouts for obvious reasons.

Then the World Without Young Justice arc came and Bart was face-to-face with Matthew Stuart (Bedlam) who had been in a coma for two years and was out for revenge.

Using his own magical power he had found a way to force Bart into making scouts and he had them flung through time altering the timestream to a point where nothing looked familiar and Young Justice was... gone; the girls converted into villains, the boys were stripped of their powers and training as Kon was just a human teenager and Tim was just Tim Drake.

Bart was the only one who remembered them and it was up to him to stop Matt.

The problem was, he was petrified of absorbing his scouts back into himself because the last time one of his scouts died, he nearly died. Bart wasn't sure what would happen if he re-absorbed a dying scout, because he regains everything that scout experienced and felt while it was operating.

Superboy #99

"That'll keep him... busy while... we make our escape..." - Bart

"'Escape?' You can barely stand and your other selves..." - Kon

"... Are dying. I've made too many... Their only chance... is to take 'em back into me. It's just... dunno what'll happen if I absorb a dying scout..." - Bart

"Look... Don't worry. You'll be okay. Why, you're one of the good guys." - Kon while touching Bart's shoulder.

"Uh... ...Here goes everythnnngghh!!" - Bart

"Wow... You okay?" - Kon

"No... But it's no biggie. We better head for Bedlam's Castle, back to Tim..." - Bart

At first glance this might seem inconsequential but Bart really was absolutely petrified of absorbing those scouts back, and he did so because Kon encouraged him, and because Kon in that moment was vulnerable and could be killed with almost no effort.

Bart overcame his fear and absorbed his scouts which had a consequence that wasn't outright shown but if you're well-read in The Flash you know what is going on.

Bart is pushing his own limits here, he is hurt, badly, and is dying himself but because he is a Speedster they never reveal this when it is happening. A speedster admitting something is wrong, but is 'no big deal' is code speak for "I'm going to die, so let's hurry up and save the day."

Bart's exhausted here and is likely going through some sort of molecular and emotional trauma as a result of absorbing his dying scouts, but Kon and all of Young Justice is worth it.

In the end, Bart recovers, saves the day and everything returns to normal... almost.

5.) The Emancipation of Bart Allen AKA Bart "broke reality" for Kon.

Kon was erased from existence with the N52 reboot and with Rebirth he was still no where to be found and no one seemed concerned about where Kon was despite the fact that the multiverse/reboots were very common knowledge among the heroes by then.

Bart (retroactively) was the only one who was shown to actively remember Kon due to his own imperviousness to time shifts and due to the fact that he was able to avoid being rebooted himself. Cassie mentioned remembering "everything about Young Justice" thus implying that she too likely remembered Kon, but Tim didn't remember him (or Young Justice) and needed Zatanna to help unlock the memories of his dear friend. Bart remembered Kon and actively took it upon himself to find him, and by extension Young Justice.

The entirety of Young Justice 2019 has a lot of great moments between Kon and Bart (Bart was relentless in his effort to find Kon, both times he went missing) but there is one key moment that sticks out.

Bart's explanation for what happened leading up to him "breaking things" to find Kon is a little mushy when it comes to continuity placement (Bendis tends to have mushy writing) but his desire to find Kon over everyone else is blatant.

Please tell us Kon, what do you plan on doing? We'll never know bc Tim interjected.

Everything about this issue is charged with emotional depth between both Kon and Bart; from Bart's deep desire to find Kon and Kon's desire to help take care of Bart while he was vulnerable after passing out.

Extremely popular ships were started over less than this ^

After passing out, Kon takes Bart to the woods and builds a fire for them. Kon also remembers that Bart loves Chocos (DC's version of Oreos) and nicked a whole pack from S.T.A.R. Labs for Bart specifically.

6.) Lightening Rod

As mentioned above Young Justice 2019 offered us a lot of moments between Kon and Bart that were suggestive and showcased that Bart is relentless when it comes to making sure Kon is safe, and that Young Justice is intact.

Each member of Young Justice is clearly a lightening rod for Bart as Speedsters can have more than one however there is evidence to suggest that Kon just may have a pull on him more than the others.

Young Justice 2019 #1

When Bart is zapped to Gemworld at the same time as everyone else he alone appears next to Kon, suggesting he is a lightening rod. Tim, Cassie, Jinny and Kelly were separated to other locations entirely.

The working theory building from what we know of Speedsters and their lighting rods, is that when Bart was finally put in proximity to Kon, Bart was immediately attracted to him like lightning strike to a tall building.

Once Bart was reunited with Kon, well, we get the famous hug scene under the backdrop of the bi-flag.

Young Justice 2019 #2 again, popular ships were started over much less.

Knowing what we know now of the depth Bart went through to find Kon and reunite Young Justice can you really blame him for not wanting to let him go?

The rest of YJ2019 has multiple other instances of them hugging, touching and Bart getting very persistent about making sure Kon is safe, which contributed to him passing out.

In Closing

When it comes to shipping, either as just friends or as romantic partners in some fashion, the evidence provided above gives groundwork for a ship that is based on trust, compassion for the other, emotional vulnerability through shared experiences and protectiveness of the other all with an air of playfulness.

Their affection is mutual and their desire to help each other, mourn each other and support each other is not one-sided as we see both of them do things for the other.

There is a lot of angst there, and there also is a lot playfulness with willingness to listen to each other if in the hands of a writer that understands their past history.

Kon and Bart are friends, first and foremost, and Konbart should not be a rare-pair or considered a ship with no basis as the basis has roots going back to 1995.

8/5/23: edited for more concise phrasing and removed some misleading word choice, sorry about that it WAS unintentional.

[sgiandubh]

An intimate lunch

Coming back to this particular C pic, which has sparkled endless comments, today (still very busy days for me & I gave in and binged TCND - this explains the ungodly hour):

Dots have been connected (there are, after all, alternative Keepers of the Dots, a sobriquet I am therefore relinquishing, thanking again the friend who gifted it to me). And comments -ranging from stan blindness to unreasonable conspiracy theories - have been written too.

Tellingly enough, the wording of the Finch and Partners IG post was quite suggesting: 'an intimate lunch' means more than promo, almost a personal get together with, at the very least, carefully selected people.

Was she coat-tailing? Very probably, to the extent she is understandably interested in getting more acting (directing?) projects after OL. And to make it clear: there is nothing bad to it.

Did she know Cooper before? There is no way in hell to confirm it with 100% accuracy, but my guess is no. Someone, as it has been pointed out, obliged. These are the simple, expected minimum benefits of a PR agent, a Rolodex and of networking. And it is true: she has been consistently on Finch's list and invited at many of their events since at least 2016. Which is to say, since IFH? Oh. OK. No further questions, Your Honor.

Was it a reward for dragging along McIdiot at that Netflix gala, the day before? Even taking into account her visible lack of enthusiasm, I am afraid things are not as simple and mechanic as alternatively dangling the proverbial carrot and stick. It's a quid pro quo, not a reward. A part in a movie would be a reward - not a lunch in town: that would be selling herself very cheaply.

But of course, we are all idiots, as this reaction from a particularly ungifted Mordor pundit would like us to think:

This post is not about S, of course. And the posited question is a superb logical fallacy: S is 'never invited to any of these events', because his side projects are different and his social media communication strategy is different, too. She was not there because of S and no one on this side of the fandom seriously suggested it.

Also, let's not show more idiocy than you are naturally able of, denizens of Mordor: Cooper did not really need her 1 (one) Academy Awards vote. And do you know why? Well, her vote would not make any serious difference among the 7,999 others, this is why:

Yes, the Britannica: I know it pisses you, and many other people, mightily off.

But perhaps she was there also because of this?

Enlighten me, please, since I am such a forgetful idiot, what on Earth might have happened to The Cut? You know, the project she was shooting just before the SAG-AFTRA strike began?

Crickets. And, which is more alarming...

If proven correct, this IMDb info is not very good news and I would be bereft for her. Honestly. Check the link: https://www.imdb.com/title/tt26697087/fullcredits/?ref_=tt_cl_sm. It lists the entire crew, up to the last best boy. Whatever happened to C's part? Whatever happened to C? The movie is now announced in post-production. Surely we'll know very soon, one way or another. But if her part has been slashed out, it's only normal to be more active and scout any possible project opportunity.

Ultimately, the core problem remains unchanged: since she did not post this picture on her socials, she is still as uninterested in them as she's always been. Always. And sorry for repeating myself, but spare some scarce mention about make-up and attire (presumably to be nice to personal friends), she does not engage with this fandom. At all. That does not leave her stans with many options but to write their own fanfic, while accusing us (who may know a bit more than them, at any rate) of doing the same.

Smart girl, C. I am sure S&C divided their respective roles in the 'Coping with the Narrative' in-house production for a very long time and this is the most important thing of them all. The rest is babble, including this post.

[fiercynn]

former otw board candidate's attempted take-down of a volunteer of color is cruel. and racist!

so if you’ve been following along with the discussions about racism in the organization for transformative works (otw) and everything that’s gone on just this week, you may have seen that @yishaqeni (he/they) - a former otw board candidate who withdrew from the election in late june (not audrey r, the republican) - wrote a post two days ago saying that the actions of dhobikikutti (not sure of pronouns), a volunteer of color who has been calling out racism in the otw, are a large part of what led yishaqeni to withdraw from the election and the organization. you can read yishaqeni’s full post here.

i'm going to go ahead and try to address yishaqeni’s accusations towards kutti here as i understand them. (i'm choosing not to respond to yishaqeni’s follow-up post on this topic because kutti has said that yishaqeni has confused kutti with another volunteer of color in at least one of his accusations in that second post, and i do not know which accusation that is, so i am not engaging with that post for now.)

firstly, some context on my perspective: i am not an otw volunteer, nor do i have any other inside perspective on otw as an organization. i do not personally know dhobikikutti, yishaqeni, alex tischer, azarias, nor any of the other board members or committee chairs who have been in leadership between 2020 and now. all of my understanding of these situations comes from what has been shared publicly by people who do have inside knowledge. 

as an outsider, i have read and reread all of the public posts that kutti has made multiple times. i’ve also read all of the discussions documented by synonymous, including stuff that happened on fail_fandomanon (ffa). i obviously may be missing stuff that happened internally, but going off of what i’ve seen all of these folks say, including yishaqeni, here are my reactions to yishaqeni’s accusations.

yishaqeni's accusation #1: “dhobi ki kutti herself had began posting internal information to her personal dreamwidth and sending this information to other DW users without considering if the people she was posting about were identifiable” and “dhobi ki kutti has made it clear that she does not care about the privacy of other volunteers so long as she can use statements to discuss structural racism in the org”

firstly, let’s be clear: until kutti received their first warning for constructive corrective action procedure (ccap) from the otw tag wrangling chairs and board, what kutti posted publicly were the emails and comments that kutti themselves sent to otw leadership. kutti also notes that the only quotes kutti includes are from official statements made by the board and chairs to all volunteers, nothing from private conversations:

I reject a cultist confidentiality policy that denies volunteers any opportunity to provide citations to back up claims of abusive organisational practises. The only quotes I have publicly posted are from official statements made by the Board and Chairs to all volunteers, and I shared them in response to a post where the official organisation statement was denying an accusation of insufficiently protecting its volunteer base. As a member of said volunteer base, I have the right to provide proof of my own experience. [x]

i'll go even further and say that except for one circumstance that i'll talk about below, kutti’s comments do not include information specific enough to people or events that could identify them or violate people’s privacy. perhaps if you are an otw volunteer who saw these conversations go on internally, they seem like they give identifiable information, but as someone from the outside, they do not.

the one exception is the question that kutti asked in the july 3 board meeting about documented racism by board member alex tischer (pronouns listed as "IDGAF"). i attended that board meeting, and at the time i had already seen discussion of alex on fail_fandomanon, where alex’s racist actions have been documented. this matters because alex has held multiple leadership positions at otw: alex was a board member from 2016-2018 and again from 2020-2023 until their resignation three days ago on july 27, 2023; and as far as we know, alex is still the chair of the webs committee [here's an archived link on july 30, 2023 in case that changes soon].

i'll emphasize kutti’s point here about volunteers needing to be able to provide citations of abusive organizational practices. when people like alex with this level of power have been allowed to get away with blatant racism and anti-blackness over years within the organization, there is often no other recourse than the name them publicly to decry their actions – especially when other information about those people has already been leaked on ffa! targeting kutti for this is ridiculous and racist, especially when yishaqeni themselves admits that volunteers of color who were asking for answers were being stonewalled by the board and leadership.

after kutti received the ccap email, kutti did also post that publicly, because the ccap email itself is such a blatantly racist threat on otw leadership’s part that it, in my opinion, absolutely needed to be shared, for the same reasons as above.

yishaqeni's accusation #2: “dhobi ki kutti began posting her questions a few weeks before i left. these were questions we were already asking - progress on the 2020 pledge, the treatment of azarias, PAC, POCvols and cvols, etc. however, this also included posts that were deliberately inflammatory, where she would refer to actions she disagreed with with provocative descriptors such as  'disgusting'…” 

i, personally, think it’s perfectly legitimate to talk about any of otw’s horrible actions listed here as “disgusting”, including to talk about racism, but kutti has revealed that that’s not actually where kutti even used this term. kutti used it to talk about the way former otw volunteer azarias was treated in the CSEM work azarias had to do: 

And @ board? On a personal level - finding out what you took the responsibility to ask azarias to do, that the board and the Legal advisors of the board told her it was her job to not delete the content that a CSEM distributing user had created, but that she was supposed to comb through it all to only remove the bits that were illegal - that disgusts me. The fact that you all think this is an acceptable thing to ask of anyone disgusts me. What is it going to take to shake you out of your inaction here? [x]

still think it’s provocative to use the word “disgusts” in that context? yishaqeni, you should be ashamed of how you’ve characterized this.

yishaqeni's accusation #3: “[kutti] was deliberately antagonizing and intimidating to others in the internal chat, particularly when she felt other vols weren't engaging with what she was posting”

having been in many, many situations where calling out racism is met by silence, i can’t tell you how frustrating and demoralizing it is to see people continue to engage with “easier” topics in other channels but deliberately choose not to respond about racism, especially when you know that having more allies in the room could potentially help demand answers from leadership. it’s horrible to feel like you’re shouting in to the void about a topic as important as racism and harassment.

so if you’re going to give the volunteers who didn’t respond grace and understanding for not knowing what to say, you should also give that grace and understanding to kutti for being frustrated at having to tackle these topics alone. racism and mistreatment of volunteers are the things that should cause discomfort, not the person calling them out.

yishaqeni's accusation #4: “dhobi ki kutti mocked those who were stressed and uncomfortable by how she was posting in her ccap responsa”

let's take a look at what kutti actually said in that ccap response:

Because, as the CCAP makes a point to reiterate, this is cumulative action being taken for everything I have said over the past month. That my comments have made the atmosphere ‘tense’ and ‘unpleasant’. That I have made multiple volunteers feel ‘stressed,’‘disconcerted and unsafe’, to the extent that I have affected their mental well-being. I am not ‘considerate and respectful’ enough to be welcome as a volunteer. I do not plan to invest the energy in theorising this for you, because abusers who file complaints to silence criticism know fully well what patterns of hierarchy and power they are wielding. And here, I will make it clear that I hold the chairs and Board responsible for this CCAP, not any individual volunteers who chose to complain against me. A healthy organisation would have resources to support volunteers feeling threatened by my challenges of the structural whiteness in this organisation without using their discomfort to browbeat me. [x, emphasis mine]

i've bolded the last part of kutti’s statement because kutti makes it clear that this is an organizational failure. kutti explicitly says that kutti does not blame the individuals who felt threatened or uncomfortable, even those who reported kutti for this, which is far more generous than i would be in that circumstance. so how exactly is that “mocking” people who were stressed and uncomfortable? ridiculous.

now i'm going to make some accusations of my own, based on what i've seen here:

deepa’s accusation #1: yishaqeni choosing to focus on kutti in this post is both targeted and racist.

yishaqeni names that there are many reasons he decided to leave the otw and withdraw as a board candidate, including “the constant leaking of internal discussions and comments to FFA and DW, the lack of response from board on the ongoing trashfire, the inability of the board to address structural racism”, as well as kutti’s alleged behavior. yishaqeni then adds that they choose to focus on kutti’s behavior because they think racism in the org has been “analysed to death” already.

that's kind of a wild statement to make, because even if these issues have been analyzed and discussed, those critiques of otw’s dysfunction have clearly not gained enough traction or power for change to have been made within the organization yet. if that is truly a concern of yishaqeni’s, and one so powerful that it led them to leave the org, surely they can still do work to talk about that? since ultimately that is much more impactful than the actions of a single volunteer?

then there’s the ffa leaks. from what i've seen, those are more likely to have been “privacy violations” than anything that kutti has posted, because they often quote directly from otw chats, and they cover topic even more wide-ranging than the racism that kutti has posted about. but kutti is still the person targeted in this post.

i get that with everything going on right now, it can feel unsafe to be an otw volunteer, and to feel like you can’t speak freely in otw channels. but to ascribe that lack of safety to kutti is ridiculous. and given that the main thing kutti’s been talking about publicly is racism, it is racist to target kutti this way.

yishaqeni could have written a post about how organizational culture at otw – including a lack of transparency and action from otw leadership – have contributed to an atmosphere so toxic that it has both led people to feel like they need to leak stuff (and again, not just stuff related to racism), and that volunteers have been made to feel unsafe because of some of those leaks. that’s a valid critique that covers both sides of why this is all really fucked up. 

but yishaqeni chose instead to focus disproportionately on the actions of a single volunteer of color calling out racism, whose “leaks” did not include identifiable information about individuals except for what had been shared with all board and volunteers. wild.

deepa’s accusation #2: yishaqeni is engaging in tone policing, which is also – surprise! – racist.

firstly, let’s look at the language yishaqeni uses to describe how kutti talks about racism: “intentionally inflammatory”, “provocative”, “antagonizing”, “intimidating”, “aggressive[e]”, “incendiary”, and “outside the bounds of normal discourse”. 

i think i just got bingo on a tone policing bingo card. “aggressive” and “intimidating”, in particular, are words that are frequently used to demonize people of color for their justifiable anger about racism, and to make them out to be threats. (i'll be clear too here that this kind of language is not only racist but anti-black, and that black people face disproportionate levels of tone policing, but non-black people of color can still be targeted with this rhetoric.) 

this is all especially ridiculous because yishaqeni acknowledges that no one who was making these critiques was gaining any traction from otw leadership! and yet, yishaqeni also claims that “this could've been campaigned on without the leaking of internal discussions and making vols feel unsafe and stressed”. how, exactly? kutti has been talking about racism within the otw, including going through the “proper channels”, since 2020. people outside of the organization have been talking about this publicly for even longer. how long do those efforts have to fail for people to understand that those “proper channels” are not getting us there?

people of color are allowed to be angry about racism. in fact, everyone should be angry about racism! and the fact is that there is simply no way to talk about racism that will be “acceptable”, because white supremacist culture puts forward that racism itself is what’s acceptable. so saying “kutti should have talked about this differently” is super fucked up. and racist.

deepa’s accusation #3: in their second post, yishaqeni accuses kutti of actions that were done by another volunteer of color. which is racist.

pretty self-explanatory tbh.

deepa's accusation #4: yishaqeni implies that kutti does not understand the risks for volunteers of being subjected to violence for their work in the otw, while not acknowledging that kutti is at high risk for that kind of violence.

for context, kutti is a volunteer from india, which kutti has said publicly.

to quote yishaqeni in full about this topic: 

“the privacy policy is in place to protect vols and she was being incredibly cavalier with what and how she was posting. it’s to protect vols like me who live in countries with a living memory of sectarian and homophobic violence, it’s to protect cvols who live in a country where they can be prosecuted for accessing certain OTW projects, it’s to protect people who could be at risk of harm for engaging with what is widely perceived as queer explicit content.” [x]

as a queer indian-american, i find this extremely condescending and belittling. india has more than a memory of sectarian and homophobic violence; it is a daily reality for many, many marginalized communities there. india's central government, and many of its states, are run by hindu supremacist political parties that actively promote violence towards minorities, including lgbtqia+ folks, women, muslims, dalits and other caste-oppressed communities, adivasis and indigenous communities, disabled people, black people, kashmiris, bengalis, sikhs, other ethnic and religious minorities, and more. india only de-criminalized homosexuality five years ago. 

then there’s also the fact that simply talking about racism in fandom online as a person of color opens you up to harassment, threats, and potentially more, regardless of where you live! 

since i do not know kutti personally, i do not know what kutti specifically has had to face, and i very much hope kutti has been spared from all of what i've talked about above. but there’s absolutely no guarantee of that. and lecturing kutti – who, again, has not violated anyone’s privacy! – of this while not understanding kutti’s own risk as an otw volunteer is also ridiculous.

deepa’s accusation #5: yishaqeni does not himself seem to do much work publicly to speak up about racism in the otw.

as i mentioned above, yishaqeni's post barely pays lip service to the larger issues of racism in the organization. so i looked to see if yishaqeni has been speaking out more broadly to advance anti-racism on his public platforms.

first, i looked at yishaqeni's otw candidate bio and platform from before they withdrew from the race. it does not include any mention of race or racism. so then i scrolled through yishaqeni’s tumblr posts in the past week, and also went ahead and searched his blog for as many relevant terms relevant to fandom racism as i could think of, including "racism", "race", “antiracism" and "anti racism”, “anti-blackness” and “antiblackness”, “sinophobia”, “otw” and "organization for transformative works", “ao3”, “cvols”, and “weibo”.

apart from the posts about kutti, the only posts related to fandom racism are a few different posts where yishaqeni names the sinophobia that 2022 otw board candidate tiffany g faced. which i absolutely agree with, but is not at all related to the issues of otw’s internal racism and org culture that has been raised in the past few months, which yishaqeni blithely says has already been “analysed to death” - despite yishaqeni not having used the public platform where he's accusing kutti to uplift any of that analysis or critique.

how can you say that you “i stand 100% in solidarity with OTW volunteers, particularly the PAC team, cvols and POC vols who have quite frankly been done dirty by the board” when kutti is one of those people, and when you don’t actually do the hard work (at least publicly) to uplift them and stand by them on the shit that has come out this year? why is one of your few posts on the topic of racism at all your screed against a poc who is combating racism?

to be clear, yishaqeni’s targeting of kutti would be unconscionable even if they had uplifted other people talking about racism, for all the reasons i named in my first four points. but in this context it is even worse.

deepa's accusation #6: by targeting kutti in this post, yishaqeni is harming not only kutti, but also the larger movement to hold otw accountable for racism.

anyone who has actually taken the time to understand issues of racism in fandom should be aware that this kind of unfounded, targeted attack on a fan of color calling out racism won't only impact that fan, but also the larger fight against racism. in fact, targeting individuals like this is a very successful tactic to stymie anti-racism.

i don't know if yishaqeni's attack of kutti is intended to shut kutti up on racism. but even if unintentional, it is clear that yishaqeni either doesn’t understand or doesn’t care about how his words will in fact be used to support the existing culture of whiteness, racism, and organizational abuse at the otw. 

i just can’t get over how irresponsible and cruel it is to target kutti this way, to tone police them, to take the their statements out of context, and to undermine their work fighting racism within the organization. kutti was already under threat before yishaqeni’s post, both from the ccap itself and from their position calling out racism in a hostile organization, but yishaqeni has undoubtedly made it worse.

and this was a choice. a racist choice. yishaqeni did not have to say anything at all. or they could have made the kind of post that i mentioned earlier, once that spent most of its time decrying the culture at otw that led to things being this way rather than singling out a person of color trying to whisteblow. 

even though yishaqeni has quit the otw, others will undoubtedly use his accusations to undercut those who are fighting racism in the organization, whether inside or out. this is just one of myriad ways that racism is allowed to thrive in the otw. and, to use one of the words that yishaqeni finds so disagreeable, i think it’s absolutely disgusting. 

[guybitesatgames]

TMAGP 08 - They Already Named One "The Architecture of Fear"

Okay so obviously everyone is going to go bananas about what happened after the 19 minute mark (its me, I'm everyone, my response was undignified). However, Alex's tweet put me on high alert so lets dig our claws into some incredibly specific inclusions from just the case section of today's episode.

There have always been nods to real-life locations and historical figures across the Magnus-series, but this episode is particularly grounded. The case takes place here-

-Forton services - a service station that still exists, I assume entirely thanks to its listed status. It's a semi-historical site, which means lots of pictures have been taken of it, including its interior. Behold, the restaurant Terrance Stevens was sucked into, both (likely) the version he saw vs. what he should have expected at the top of the elevator:

I've not been to this place, but it is highly documented. I was able to find out that, just as it is in the show, the button for the restaurant floor has been disabled (unless you have the manufacturer's key). In fact, I think I might have found the exact website as whoever was doing research for this episode (Alex?) because they both mention seating for "700 people, with 101 toilets and 403 parking spaces".

And Terrance Stevens was doing such a good job with his sources up until this point! And I mean that - early in the case he cites (Zumthor, P. 2006), (Augé, M. 1995), (Bachelard, G. 1994) and (Trigg, D. 2012). Now, it'd be super easy for a writer to make up some names and append some years on them and call it a day but- no! Peter Zumthor's lecture Atmospheres: Architectural Environments, Surrounding Objects was published in 2006. We can similarly find Non-Places by Marc Augé, The Poetics of Space by Gaston Bachelard (reprinted in 1994), and The Memory of Place: A Phenomenology of the Uncanny by Dylan Trigg.

Given the emphasis on Smirke's architecture in The Magnus Archives (and the preponderance of liminal spaces as a source of horror, generally) I shouldn't be surprised that the authors have read up on academic papers linking structures to emotions. I was just a little blindsided that they would hand us a "further reading" section.

The real question at the end of all this is: will any of this be on the quiz?

Surely, surely if the writers wanted to be so precise as to get information about which elevator buttons are currently accessible in a real life truck stop correct, there must be something important about Forton services, right? Thankfully, we have an answer, from the Q&A for The Magnus Archives Season 3.

Well done, I am slightly worried.

Though the details of specific locations may not really really matter, I think the idea that there are nexuses of fear - places that themselves just aren't right - was laid out quite plainly in this episode. Forton services could harbor another gap in reality much like Hilltop Road, and I don't think this will be the last we hear of "hungry architecture."

[sophieinwonderland]

Tagging @explaceholder for post alert.

So, until recently I absolutely didn't care about multiplicity and in fact education that I received suggested that multiplicity is not real, including DID.

What coincided is that in the last few weeks several posts about it made it on my dash and I lurked r/fakedisordercringe. The subreddit left me with conflicting feelings because on one hand it's true that many of the featured people clearly don't fit the criteria for their disorders, but also the place felt too aggressive considering that the "fakers" may be just misinformed.

With most disorders it's clear because there always exist states that severely deviate from the norm but are not pathological. With multiplicity though it's clear that most of those people don't have DID, but some people noted (and later I saw it on your post) that said "fake" multiplicity may be just non-pathological spiritual practice. I know a number of ideas about how human psyche can be dissected into sub-personalities, including those that were proposed as psychotherapy techniques and for a time I semi-regularly interacted with tulpamancers who also fit the criteria of "believe in possessing multiple personalities inside one body". And while I never experimented with splitting psyche and don't want to, I have some experience with other spiritual practices and know that power of believe and symbolism may make you feel very interesting things. And some of the "ex-fakers" even report that those other personalities felt real as long as they were doing practice but eventually disappeared after they stopped.

So while having DID without trauma is scientifically impossible, I can easily accept that people may have brains or experience that makes them feel like there are multiple hypostasises inside of them. Which is very different but as legit as any other self-conceptualization.

What I am getting at is that I don't want to dismiss endogenic systems as non-existent, but they are obviously non-pathological. Main complaint from the cringers is that endogenic systems downplay the severity of DID and misinform people, and it would be in fact a very bad thing to do. But like, do they? Or are you mostly having discipline and distinguish pathological and non-pathological states?

I just recently learned about the whole thing and want to study it for scholarly reasons and also because it feels like it becomes louder and louder, so I decided to just ask the most important question directly. Also feel free to correct me on any of the mistakes

Thanks for taking an interest in this and being open-minded!

If you're interested in studying multiplicity, this doc has a ton of sources you can check out:

For plural history, you may want to check out the Plural Deepdive:

Something I find about r/Fakedisordercringe is that a lot of ableist misinformation gets spread around there. Many of the things they claim aren't symptoms of DID are, in fact, and have been well-documented.

I also think you shouldn't necessarily conclude based on behaviors from brief snippets that their experiences aren't pathological.

In the end, the only things you see are the snippets these systems want to show, which are then further cherry-picked by the cringe subreddits.

While it's great that you're more interested in non-pathological plurality, please don't assume that someone's plurality isn't pathological just because you see a video of them being happy with their system. Because dissociative disorders are immensely complex, and there are plenty of systems that get along very well. One study even showed a majority of people with DID said they would miss the voices of their alters if they were gone. But they still had DID.

It's very, very common for people with DID to enjoy some aspects of the disorder, even if other aspects still would result in clinically significant distress or impairment that would make it pathological.

So while having DID without trauma is scientifically impossible

I wish people would stop saying this. We are... in a very gray area.

What we know for certain is that people with DID nearly always report a trauma history with statistics being upwards of 90%, which is huge. And the fact that it's not quite 100% can possibly be explained by amnesia... but we can't know that for certain.

There is a huge difference between "DID is virtually always caused by trauma" and "it's scientifically impossible to have DID without trauma."

Remember, a lot of science operates in these gray areas and our scientific knowledge is constantly overturned with new research.

I don't mind if people believe that all DID is trauma-based. I just don't think it should be presented as if it's some sort of scientific law when there are still too many unknowns.

Main complaint from the cringers is that endogenic systems downplay the severity of DID and misinform people, and it would be in fact a very bad thing to do. But like, do they? Or are you mostly having discipline and distinguish pathological and non-pathological states?

Personally, I think it's kind of silly for people to say "these people who don't say they have DID are downplaying the severity of DID."

Because by and large, that's what we're talking about. Only a very small number of DID systems identify as endogenic.

At least purely. There are mixed origin DID systems who may report being plural before they experienced the trauma that caused them to develop their system, or they may identify some of their headmates as spiritual, or consider themselves mixed for other reasons. But people who will say they have DID without any trauma are an exceedingly rare anomaly.

So yeah, most purely endogenic systems are not saying their plurality is related to any disorder and there's no logical reason their presentations of plurality should affect the perceptions of disorders they aren't claiming to have.

...

Anyway, hope this was able to help! 😁