#but it would potentially give him a better opportunity to start the affair with him going back to the city occasionally for work

[dangooverflowers]

3 questions for Anko...

1. What led you on the path of a kunoichi?

2. What was it like in the initial days after Orochimaru...you know?

3. If you had to choose between your mission and your comrades, which would you give priority to?

Meme

1. It was mostly a family-affair. Both of my parents came from long-lines of shinobi pedigrees; although, neither one of them practiced the arts themselves. Apparently, my paternal grandfather’s last name wasn’t even Mitarashi but was a pseudonym he picked up after spending years guarding a certain shrine. He wanted to start a new life, free of the notoriety that comes with being an assassin-for-hire, and thus began working in the tea business.

Obviously, I thought this was all very impressive and begged my parents to let me carry-on this lineage, but they both refused. After they died, though, the Village saw my potential and took me in. It was bittersweet, to say the least.

2. When Orochimaru defected, he took me with him. At the time, I had no idea that he’d gone rogue. He’d asked me to meet him in the Land of the Sea to continue my tutelage and told me he’d catch up with me after he finished tying-up a few loose ends. Later, after I was found by ANBU with a hole in my memory bank, I was treated like damaged goods. If I couldn’t give them the slightest clue of Orochimaru’s whereabouts then I was better off dead. No one said this to me directly of course. Lord Third had seen to it that I was treated decently enough, but I could tell that I wasn’t a welcome sight to many of the villagers. I was snubbed by former classmates, despised by former Academy Teachers. I didn’t know what he was planning and why he’d left, but that didn’t seem to matter. It got better, over time. I had to prove my worth, that I could be trusted. I wasn’t going to live the rest of my life in his shadow, with his stench in my clothes.

And ,well, here I am.

3. Ideally? My comrades. I’ve been known to do both actually, if given the rare opportunity. Going after Orochimaru in the Forest of Death wasn’t the best decision I ever made, but it could have been worse. A lot worse. I’m alive after all. Who knows what would have become of any of the others if they’d gone in my place.

Yakushi Kabuto? Turns out, he needed me. Couldn’t say the same of the men on my search team. . .

[jdgo51]

God Knows the Vindication You Seek

Today's inspiration comes from:

God Knows

by Lisa Whittle

"'If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone. Do not take revenge, my dear friends, but leave room for God’s wrath, for it is written: “It is Mine to avenge; I will repay,” says the Lord."' — Romans 12:18–19

"'I was eighteen years old around the time rumors were passing through the grapevine about my father’s potential affair, which for a pastor of a church is of particular concern. Not only did I, as his daughter, want to disbelieve it, but I felt passionate to defend our family name after time and again hearing it come out of someone’s mouth — often with at least some element of falsehood. Hurt, weary, fiercely loyal (and in a particular hold-my-earrings season of life after also dealing with some painful mean-girl harassment), I was in peak vindication mode when I was told the name of a person I knew who was the source behind several of the most damaging rumors about my dad.

That day, I was done with victimhood. I was over people saying things that weren’t true and causing my family pain. I was through with doing “the right thing” by staying silent. In my mind, this had to stop, and I was the one to stop it.

Personal confrontation, biblically speaking, wouldn’t have been the wrong approach. Matthew 18 teaches us to go directly to someone who has wronged us. But I was mad. I wasn’t seeking spiritual reconciliation; I was seeking to feel better through my own form of vengeance. Those things change the game.

To make matters more combustible, I would be confronting this person at work, in a busy public place. So the conditions weren’t appropriate. In a fog of anger and teenage reasoning, I did not consider this to be of concern.

It’s been more than thirty years, but I can still remember whipping into the parking lot, jerking the car into park. The warm summer air enveloped me as I stepped out of the car and slammed the door, and the cold air hit me as I stormed into the store in what seemed like less than ten steps. I walked fast so I didn’t lose my courage. I can remember the exact moment of confrontation — walking straight up to where this person stood, working, without regard to my foolishness, and giving this person a piece of my mind. I can feel the heat rising to my ears and the adrenaline coursing through my entire body and the way my heel turned to walk away when I finished saying what I wanted to say, without waiting on a response.

I did it: approached the one who had hurt my family. Did I feel better? I wasn’t sure yet. I walked outside and slid behind the driver’s seat, heart beating fast and hands shaking.

My father sure wasn’t impressed by my theatrics. I found that out quickly thereafter, when I drove to his office and someone had already let him know. (Small-town grapevine, again, thanks.) “You can’t go around chewing out everyone who starts a rumor, Lisa,” he said, “or you’ll have a full-time job.” I knew I couldn’t, but my desire to set the record straight had caused me to at least try.

“It is Mine to avenge; I will repay,” says the Lord. — Romans 12:19

That wasn’t the last rumor that was started about my family. Some were true, some were false, and some were somewhere in the middle, as rumors usually are. Some stories were crueler and hurt deeper, and some I’ve never written about. But Daddy was right. I could never fight them all, even though I wanted to. The desire to get peace for the pain other people caused often felt overwhelming. In the days that followed, my revenge-seeking was a symptom of something deeper: I felt helpless. Then I felt afraid. Angry. And then I tried to control it.

Seeking vindication over something like gossip certainly didn’t feel small to me at the time, when gossip was hurting and affecting my family. And gossip isn’t a small concern when you consider how it damages people. I’ve seen people lose jobs, opportunities, relationships, ministries, and even their lives. James calling gossip a fire in James 3 is wildly accurate. The damage gossip can do — even when there is some truth to the rumor — is not minor.

Consider what a great forest is set on fire by a small spark. The tongue also is a fire, a world of evil among the parts of the body. It corrupts the whole body, sets the whole course of one’s life on fire, and is itself set on fire by hell.

— James 3:5–6

But both things can be true: gossip is wrong, and we can also be wrong in how we go about trying to vindicate it. This is the case with vengeance regardless of the issue; it is different from biblical confrontation and different from advocacy for biblical justice. God’s omniscience covers the wrongs done to you that you long to personally make right. He knows what happened, knows the truth, and in one way or another, will set it straight."'

Excerpted with permission from God Knows by Lisa Whittle, copyright Lisa Whittle.

[nonwal]

so. I started writing the sea, the stars, the dreamers on September 16th, and it has just reached 100k words, which is a lot of writing over six months. in honor of reaching 100000 words (holy fuck that's a lot of zeroes,) I figured I might as well show off the first 1% of that:

The question that Essek finally asks, after his mother has finished explaining, after he’s composed enough to keep his voice steady, is, “Why now?”

She knows what he means. Why ask him to do this now, when she’s never taken him up on the offer in the past? Why him? Why now, when he is happy?

She smiles, warm and genuine in a way that he’s never managed to replicate. “I know that you had mentioned it, years ago, since you had little interest in traditional romance. But you were young, then, and I thought it better to give you space, to develop your potential without the influences of politics. And now that you’ve had the opportunity to do so…” Her smile grows sadder, though still genuine in a way that is too genuine. “Much has changed, in the past few years. There was a war, Essek. And now there is a chance for you to be cause for peace.”

Essek has enough practice that his own smile does not waver, nor is there even the slightest hitch in his breathing. She can’t know. She can’t, she can’t, she—if she knows then when is she not furious, why would he still be alive? Why would she be offering something so important, if she already knows how badly he’s failed the Dynasty?

Is this a punishment? Is this a way to protect him?

He’s never understood her. He hates not understanding. He hates that she looks at him like she understands him, hates that most because he wants it to be true but has learned via bitter experience that it is not.

“It’s…an advantageous proposal,” he says. “I will consider it and give my decision as soon as possible.”

“You have affairs to arrange beforehand?” she asks, like she already knows he will say yes, because she knows how badly things could go if he says no.

Perhaps this is protection and punishment at the same time.

“There is someone I must talk to,” Essek says, and flees before either his panic or his despair become too evident.

—

“Do you want tea?” Essek asks them when everyone’s filed into his towers. He looks…nervous, fidgety. Caleb has been trying to convince himself that they will be able to get him out of this mess without issue, once they were able to plan in person, but—Essek isn’t looking at him.

“We want to know what the hell is going on, dude. Caleb said you only got back to Rosohna a week ago, and now—" Beau gestures wildly enough that Caleb has to duck. “Do you know how close we were to finding that beacon?”

“Yes. Caleb has said as much.”

“And now Cerberus wants to marry off their new archmage, and you’re the one they asked? Isn’t that a little suspicious?”

Essek sighs. Fiddles with his hands, realizes what he’s doing and stills them. “They did not ask to trade me over for the beacon, if that is what you’re assuming. When Empire suggested sharing control of Mutalos in exchange for a new beacon, this was the logical next step, symbolically. The Dynasty has a tradition of—the closest translation would be political marriage, but it is not inherently romantic—as a way of resolving tension between dens. The peace treaty is barely more than a formalized ceasefire, but this would be—significant.”

“But why you?” Veth asks. “Did Empire ask for the hottest elf?”

“No, they simply recommended that the political figures involved be significant enough that the union is legitimized in the eyes of the public. Their new Archmage of Antiquities is apparently interested in Mutalos for its arcane significance and has volunteered, assuming the Dynasty can find someone willing to marry a human.” He sighs. “My mother has all but offered my hand, as I am of equivalent status and arcane prowess. A matched set.”

“At least this is a good excuse to leave,” Fjord says. “People will guess you’re running away from an arranged marriage and not, uh. War crimes.”

Essek cringes. “Quite the opposite. I’ve been put under a spotlight. This—a political marriage, at least, if not one of this scale—is something I’d suggested in the past, as someone who had never had a particular, ah, interest in traditional romance. If I shirk what is viewed to be a simple political duty with immense benefits to the Dynasty and myself, that is--suspicious. And I cannot afford suspicion right now.”

“So maybe they’d find out what you did faster, maybe.”

“Indeed. Or, if I make one minor sacrifice, I become a figurehead for the peace between nations and the return of another beacon. It would be politically unsightly to accuse me of stealing the first two. Any investigation would likely be nudged in other directions, to avoid the scandal.”

"I mean. If they’ve offered, they obviously don’t suspect you in the first place,” Beau points out.

“Oh no. I am entirely certain that that suspicion is the reason I have received it.”

Kingsley cocks his head. “You know, you don’t make much sense on a good day, but this is a lot even for you. Cut to the chase?”

Essek seems to shrink in on himself. When he speaks again, his voice is brittle. “My mother has privately concluded that the investigation will eventually find me guilty, and, in a typical stroke of political genius, has found a way to mitigate the damage. The den gains influence instead of falling into disgrace, and the only sacrifice is perhaps seventy years of my life. Compared to public execution, that is nothing.”

“If you said you’re already engaged, would you be able to get out of it?” Jester asks softly.

“If I said that I was already engaged, yes.” His tone is bleak. He finally looks at Caleb.

“You did not ask us to come here to help you escape,” Caleb says.

“No,” Essek says, and looks away again.

The Nein erupt into protest.

[chainofclovers]

Ted Lasso 2x11 thoughts

For an episode that ends with a journalist Ted trusts but has (understandably) recently lied to warning Ted that he’s publishing an article about his panic attacks, it was fitting that this episode seemed entirely about what all of these characters choose to tell each other. And after most of a season of television that Jason Sudeikis has described as the season in which the characters go into their little caves to deal with things on their own, it turns out they are finally able to tell each other quite a lot.

Which is good because, um, wow, a lot is going to happen in the season finale of this show!

Thoughts on the things people tell each other behind the cut!

Roy and Keeley. I absolutely loved the moment during their photoshoot in which they bring up a lot of complicated emotional things and are clearly gutted (“gutted”? Who am I? A GBBO contestant who forgot to turn the oven on?) by what they’ve heard. We already know that Keeley and Roy are great at the kinds of moments they have before the shoot begins, in which Roy builds Keeley up and tells her she’s fucking amazing. From nearly the beginning of their relationship, they’ve supported each other and been each other’s biggest fans. But their relationship has gone on long enough that they’ve progressed from tentative arguments about space and individual needs into really needing to figure out what they mean to each other and how big their feelings are and what that means in relation to everything else. Watching these two confess about the uncomfortable kiss with Nate, the unexpectedly long conversation with Phoebe’s teacher, and—most painfully—the revelation that Jamie still loves Keeley didn’t feel like watching two people who are about to break up. (Although I could see them potentially needing space from each other to get clarity.) It felt like watching two people realize just how much they’d lose if they lost each other, which is an understandably scary feeling even—or especially—when you’re deeply in love but not entirely sure what the future holds. Not entirely sure what you’re capable of when you’ve never felt serious about someone in quite this way, and are realizing you have to take intentional actions to choose that relationship every single day. I’m excited to learn whether Roy and Keeley decide they need to solidify their relationship more (not necessarily an engagement, but maybe moving in together or making sure they’re both comfortable referring to the other as partner and telling people they’re in a committed relationship) or if things go in a different direction for a while.

Sharon and Ted. I’ve had this feeling of “Wow, Ted is going to feel so intense about how honest he’s been with Sharon and is going to end up getting really attached and transfer a lot of emotions onto the connection they have and that is stressful no matter how beneficial it has been for him to finally get therapy!” for a while now. And Sharon’s departure really brought that out and it was indeed stressful. But the amount of growth that’s happened for both of these characters is really stunningly and beautifully conveyed in this episode. Ted is genuinely angry she left without saying goodbye, and he doesn’t bury it some place deep inside him where it will fester for the next thirty years. He expresses his anger. (I also noticed he sweared—mildly—in front of her again, which is really a big tell for how much he has let his carefully-constructed persona relax around her.) He reads her letter even though he said he wasn’t going to, and he’s moved. I don’t think Ted has the words for his connection to Sharon beyond “we had a breakthrough,” but Sharon gets it, and is able to firmly assert a professional boundary by articulating her side of that breakthrough as an experience that has made her a better therapist. And is still able to offer Ted a different kind of closure by suggesting they go out before her train leaves. No matter how you feel about a patient/football manager seeing their therapist/team psychologist colleague socially, I appreciated this story because IMO it didn’t cross big lines but instead was about one final moment in this arc in which both Ted and Sharon saw each other clearly and modeled what it is to give someone what they need and to expect honesty and communication from them. I liked that Ted ends up being the one saying goodbye. (The mustache in the exclamation points!) I like that whether or not Sharon returns in any capacity (Sarah Niles is so wonderful that I hope she does, but I’m not sure), the goodbye these characters forge for themselves here is neither abandonment nor a new, more complicated invitation. It’s the end of a meaningful era, and although the work of healing is the work of a lifetime, it’s very beautiful to have this milestone.

Ted and Rebecca. So, maybe it’s just me, but it kinda feels like these two have a few li’l life things to catch up on?! (HAHHHHHaSdafgsdasdf!) I really adored their interactions in this episode. I maintain that Biscuits With The Boss has been happening this whole time (even when Ted’s apartment was in shambles, there’s biscuit evidence, and I feel like we’ve been seeing the biscuit boxes in Rebecca’s office pretty regularly too), even if it might have been more of a drive-by biscuit drop-off/feelings avoidance ritual. It was really lovely to see Ted on more even footing in Rebecca’s office, joking around until she tells him to shut up, just like the old days. And GOSH—for their 1x9 interaction in Ted’s office to be paralleled in this episode and for Ted to explicitly make note of the parallel in a way Rebecca hears and sees and understands?! MY HEART. In both of Rebecca’s confessions, she is not bringing good news but it is good and meaningful that she chooses to share with Ted. In both situations, Ted takes the moment in stride and offers acceptance equivalent to the gravity of what she has to confess. And in both situations, he’s not some kind of otherworldly saint, able to accept Rebecca no matter what because he’s unaffected by what she shares. He is affected. When he tells her about Sam, you can see a variety of emotions on his face. Rebecca is upset and Ted is calm, and even if I might have liked for him to try to talk about the risk the affair poses to the power dynamics on the team or any number of factors, I also really liked that he just accepts where she is, and—most importantly—does not offer her advice beyond examining herself and taking her own advice. A massive part of being in a relationship with another person (a close relationship of any nature) is figuring out how to support that person without necessarily having to be happy about every single thing they do. It’s so important that Ted connects what she’s just told him about Sam back to what she told him last season about her plot with the club. These both feel like truth bombs to him, and he is at least safe enough to make that clear. These are both things that impact him, things that shape how he sees her and maybe even how he sees himself. He cares about her and is capable of taking in this information; he has room for it. But it’s not something he takes lightly, and neither does she. See you next year.

Tumblr user chainofclovers and the TV show Ted Lasso. My brain is going wild thinking about all the ways the next “truth bomb” conversation could go in 3x11 or whatever. Maybe they go full consistent parallel and Rebecca confesses something else, this time about her and Ted or some other big future thing that impacts him as much or more as the other confessions have. (The same but different.) Maybe the tables turn and Ted has something to confess to her. While the 1x9 conversation ended in an embrace and the 2x11 conversation ended with a bit more physical distance (understandable given the current state of their relationship and the nature of the discussion), the verbal ending of both conversations involved voices moving into a sexier lower register while zooming in to talk specifically about their connection to each other, so I have to assume there will be some consistencies in s3 even if the circumstances will be completely different. I don’t really know where I’m going with this and I obviously will go insane if I sustain this level of anticipatory energy until Fall 2022 but I have a feeling my brain and heart are going to try!

Sam and Rebecca. I know there’s been a lot of criticism about whether this show is being at all realistic about the power dynamics and inevitable professional issues this relationship would create. On some level, I agree; I like that pretty much everyone who knows about the affair has been kind so far, but you can be kind and still ask someone to contend with reality. But I also think that in nearly every plot point on this show, the narrative is driven by how people feel about their circumstances first and foremost. (It’s why the whiteboard in the coaching office and the football commentators tell us more about how the actual football season is going from a points perspective than anyone else.) This episode reminded me how few people know about Sam and Rebecca, and how much their time together so far has been time spent in bed. The private sphere. I thought this episode really expertly brought the public sphere into it, not—thank goodness—through a humiliating exposure or harsh judgment but through an opportunity for Sam that illustrates not only all his potential to do great things but how much Rebecca’s professional position and personal feelings are in conflict with that. Could stand in the way of that. I don’t have a strong gut feeling about where this will go, but I do think Sam’s face in his final scene of this episode is telling. He started the episode wanting to see Rebecca (his most recent text to her was about wanting to connect), and Edwin’s arrival from Ghana really exploded his sense of what is possible for his life. If he’d arrived home to Rebecca sitting on his stoop prior to meeting Edwin, he’d have been delighted. Now he’s conflicted, and whatever decision he makes, he has to reckon with the reality that he cannot have everything he wants. No matter what. And Rebecca—she has taken Ted’s advice and is attempting to be honest about the fact that she can’t control Sam’s decisions but hopes he doesn’t go, and even saying that much feels so inappropriate. And I’m not sure how much she realizes about the inappropriateness of the position she’s putting him in, although maybe she’s getting there considering she exits the scene very quickly. I’ve honestly loved Rebecca’s arc this season. I think it’s realistic that she got obsessed with the intimacy she thought she could find in her phone. I think it’s realistic that her professional and personal ambitions are inappropriately linked. (They certainly were for Rupert. It’s been years since she’s known anything different; even if she’s done some significant recovery work to move on from her abusive marriage and figure out her own priorities, she’s got a long way to go.) I know there are people who will read this interaction between Rebecca and Sam as a totally un-self-aware thing on the part of “the show” or “the writers” but what I saw is two people who enjoyed being in bed together and now have to deal with the reality that they’re in two different places in their lives and that one has great professional power over the other. If that wasn’t in the show, I wouldn’t be able to see it or feel so strongly about it.

Edwin and Sam. I really enjoyed all the complexities of this interaction. Edwin is promising a future for Sam that doesn’t quite exist yet, though he has the financial means to make it happen. He offers this by constructing for Sam a Nigerian—and Ghanaian—experience unlike anything he’s found in London. Sam is amazed that this experience is here, and Edwin’s response is to explain to him that the experience is not here. Not really. The experience in Africa. Sam has of course connected to the other Nigerian players on the team, but this is something else entirely. I’m really curious if Sam is going to end up feeling that what Edwin has to offer is real or not. That sense of home and connection? So real. And so right that he would want to experience that homecoming and would want to be part of building that experience for others. But at the end of the day, he went to a museum full of actors and a pop-up restaurant full of “friends,” and is that constructed authenticity as a stand-in for a real homecoming more or less real than the home he’s building in Richmond? (With other players who stand in solidarity with him, and with well-meaning white coaches who say dumb stuff sometimes, and an a probably-doomed love interest, and a feeling that he should put chicken instead of goat in the jollof, and the ability to stand out as an incredible player on a rising team.)

Nate and everyone. But also Nate and no one. Nate’s story is so painful and I’m so anxious for next week’s episode. For a long time I’ve felt that a lot of Nate’s loyalties are with Richmond, and a lot of his ambitions are around having given so much to this place without getting a lot back, and having a strong feeling that he’s the answer to Richmond’s future. But now I’m not so sure; his ambitions have transferred into asking everyone he knows (except Ted, of course), if they want to be “the boss.” But Nate is all tactics and no communication. When he wants to suggest a new play to Ted, he hasn’t yet learned to read Ted’s language to learn that Ted is eager to hear what he has to say. And while Ted has been really unfortunately distracted about Nate and dismissive of him this season, he clearly respects Nate’s approach to football and was appreciative of the play. Nate just can’t hear that. The suit is such a great metaphor of all the things Nate is in too much pain to be able to hear clearly. Everyone digs at him for wearing the suit Ted bought him (including Will, who’s got to get little cuts in where he can, because he’s got to be sick of the way Nate treats him), but when he gets fed up his solution isn’t to go out on his own and find more clothes he likes; he asks Keeley to help him. And then crosses a major line with her...and no matter how kind she was about it, she was clearly not okay. Everything is going to blow up, and I’m so curious as to whether Nate will end up aligning himself with Rupert in some way or if he’s going to end up screwed over by Rupert and in turn try to screw over his colleagues even worse than he’s already done. Or try desperately to make amends even though it could be too late for some. Either way, I’m fully prepared to feel devastated. (And there’s no way I’m giving up on this character. If he’s able to learn, I truly believe he could end up seeking forgiveness and forging a happier existence for himself. Someday. Like in season 3 or something.)

Ted and Trent. Trent deciding to reveal his source to Ted is a huge deal, and I’m torn between so many emotions about this exposé. I’m glad it’s a Trent Crimm piece and not an Ernie Loundes piece. I’m glad that Trent made the decision to warn Ted and let him know that Nate is his source. I fear—but also hope—that this exposure will set off a chain reaction of Ted learning about some of the things he’s missed while suffering through a really bad bout with his dad-grief and panic disorder. The things Ted doesn’t know would devastate him. I wonder if Ted will want to figure out a way to make Nate feel heard and reconcile with him, and I wonder how that will be complicated if/when he realizes Nate has severely bullied Will, gets more details on how he mistreated Colin, etc. I wonder if Rebecca, whom Nate called a “shrew” right before she announced his promotion, will be in the position of having to ask Ted to fire him, or overriding Ted and doing it herself. So many questions! I have a feeling it’ll go in some wild yet very human-scaled, emotionally-nuanced direction, and I’ll be like “Oh my GOD!” but also like “Oh, of course.”

This VERY SERIOUS AND EMOTIONAL REVIEW has a major flaw, which is that none of the above conversations include mention of the absolute love letter to N*SYNC. Ted passionately explains how things should go while dancing ridiculously! Will turns on the music and starts gyrating! Roy nods supportively! Beard shouts the choreography like the Broadway choreographer of teaching grown men who play football how to dance like a boy band. Everyone is so incredibly proud when they nail it. I love them.

I cannot believe next week is the end. For now. I’m kind of looking forward to letting everything settle during the hiatus, but I’ve really loved the ride.

[aliensunflower-fics]

Marinette The Perfect Daughter In Law: A Prompt

[ I've seen a few ‘everyone loves Marinette AU’s’ and a couple Marvel DC ‘all the mentors want THEIR kid to end up with Marinette AU’s’ and well frankly! I felt inspired! So I present to you my new prompt / AU thing! In which all the most powerful / rich / popular people in Paris decide to play matchmaker… ]

It starts when Adrien and Kagami have a less than AMICABLE break up according to their parents and the media anyway in reality it was a really REALLY dull break up. The pair have been ‘dating’ (using each other as an excuse to go out and experience normal teenage stuff) since they were 15. Now at 17 soon to be 18 the pair decided to publicly break up in order to pursue other people and interests. The problem is they never told their parents the truth so both Gabriel and Kagami’s mother Tomeo feel protective and concerned about what must surely be an upsetting first heartbreak for their child. And okay maybe both parents take that out on each other and both get a bit defensive and protective. And MAYBE it ends with Tomeo vowing to get revenge for her daughter. Enter, Marinette. Up and coming fashion designer for the rich and famous! She’s single, talented, and as far as Tomeo knows Gabriel is interested in the girl for her talent. So what better revenge could exist but having Marinette take an interest in Kagami!

Kagami has no idea why her mother suddenly has an interest in Marinette but she wont complain about having more time with her very cute designer friend. And all the outfits Tomeo is paying Marinette to make for Kagami is giving the young fencer plenty of up-close and personal moments with Marinette. And okay Marinette is VERY cute and Kagami wont question why she suddenly has all this tine with Marinette, eating ice cream with the girl and having brunch. But she knows shes absolutely head over heels when Marinette shows up at her fencing tournament gives her a luck charm and cheers her on wearing HER colors. Obviously Kagami wiped the floor with all the competition she cant be seen hesitating in front of Marinette!

On Tomeo’s side of things she makes sure that the paparazzi still lurking around after Kagami and Adrien’s breakup catch photos of what could easily be interpreted as dates between the girls. After all this is a revenge ploy but also Marinette is fantastic so Tomeo is 300% down with Kagami ‘bringing her into the family’ something she tells Kagami after the first paparazzi ‘date photos’ leak into the news. Kagami still has no idea this was an orchestrated affair and just thinks her mothers caught on to her feelings and is overjoyed that Marinette is approved of because after the cheek kiss Marinette gave her for winning the fencing tournament Kagami was preparing to fight her mother for the right to pursue the young designer seriously. After all she never hesitates! 

But Tomeo never realized Gabriel isnt the only one interested in Marinette. Audrey Bourgeouis has been keeping an eye on Marinette trying to find a way to get Marinette on to her side and away from Gabriel. So when she sees the photos of Kagami and Marinette she sees an opportunity. After all if Marinette isnt exclusively into men (and those photos of her flushed cheeks as Kagami cleans ice cream off her bottom lip are a clear indication shes not) then Audrey smells opportunity. After all Marinette was Chloe’s first crush! How cute would that be! The next day Marinette is being offered yet another opportunity to intern under Audrey this time with much looser restrictions. When Marinette accepts she suddenly finds herself working with Chloe… A LOT. The pair are modeling together, often paired together for shoots in perfect complementary clothes that screams ‘opposites attract’. Chloe is also helping manage Marinette’s brand and the two start to get along very well. The model photos and their business lunches are soon plastered alongside the Kagami and Marinette outings with parisian gossip blogs finding their interest picked by this potential love triangle.

Chloe for one, was confused at first. Sure she knew her mom was interested in Marinette but she never thought SHE would be working so closely with her first crush. And Chloe tries to ignore it, after all those are dead feelings! And Marinette woud never forgive her anyway so why even- Wait. Is that Marinette in a downright gorgeous golden dress? A-and she will be posing right next to Chloe for their shared shoot? Well… Chloe always thought herself deserving of royalty and damn if Marinette aint the princess of her dreams. Sorry Adriken’s you had your chance to get the girl, but now its winner keeps all and Marinette is the only prize shes interested in. For the record Alya is freaked out by Chloe being nice, but shes more weirded out by Chloe being protective and handsy and downright shamelessly flirty with Marinette. Audrey is pleased when she hears the news and is quick to give her daughter encouragement acting as if none of this was premeditated at ALL.

Oh but they have no idea that this is just the beginning. Because guess who's moved back into town. Adrien’s favorite cousin and aunty. And Felix’s mom is quite the busybody and dammit Felix needs friends! And maybe a cute girlfriend! And oh whos that pretty girl on the magazine cover? Marinette? The one her celebrity connections have nothing but praise for? Perfect! Shes invited to lunch with Felix and herself on friday to discuss movie costumes! And oh Audrey dear dont you think Marinette would look fabulous sandwiched between TWO blondes! Felix hasnt modeled in a while but come now. So suddenly Marinette is being spotted with Felix guiding him about paris and modeling with him AND Chloe under AUDREY’s brand NOT Gabriels.

Felix thought hed really hate Marinette; he tried to ignore her he really did. But shes funny, witty and sweet. Not to mention trustworthy, so a good candidate for a business partner. And thats it, but then he has to admit hes impressed when he rolls up to a photoshoot and Chloe! The definition of brat personified is acting… Bearable. Yes, somehow Marinette has done the impossible! She has tamed the beast known as Chloe. And yes fine he will admit shes drop dead gorgeous and how intelligent of her to learn all sides of the fashion industry and boost her rep with modelling! Soon hes spending more time with her, he tries to argue he needs a guide, that shes the most bearable person to be with! That she is just a friend- Oh god. No it cant be! He sounds like-! Like ADRIEN! And Chloe already told him about THAT mess! No! Absolutely not! He will not lead on Marinette like his idiot cousin! Marinette is a rare and beautiful woman! She could be his queen! And god he has to admit it much as he loathes too Marinette’s smile is enough to make him thank every non-existent god. He will win her heart, show her that she deserves better than his brain dead cousin! Felix is sure mother will approve of his decision to pursue the girl, now he just needs to do more shoots with Marinette...

And that's what finally gets Gabriel to snap. Because REALLY Felix!? Is there no loyalty to FAMILY. Not to mention he was totally drafting a potential contract for Marinette when Audrey snapped her up the witch! But its fine! Marinette has always been interested in Adrien! Surely she still is? Surely she's not been swayed by any of her new suitors! Right? Gabriel knows he can't mess with Audrey’s contract so he goes through Adrien, freeing up his sons schedule and telling him to spend time with Marinette to help her ‘adapt’ to the harsh world of fashion and modeling. He uses Adrien’s heroic nature to make it sound like hed be saving her from Chloe and Felix. And sure enough Adrien bites, using his friendship with Chloe to worm into fittings, meetings, and photo shoots. At first hes just there to make sure Chloe and Felix arent hurting sweet Marinette. But when he sees the blondes fighting for her attention, flirting with her, posing with her in some rather romantic settings. Suddenly hes less worried and more… Jealous? No! Not him! Hes concerned, confused, suspicious! Obviously he needs to spend more time with Mari- Wait! When did Kagami get here to take Marinette to lunch! And why are they all ignoring him!!!

Now Marinette is fully in the public's eye. Gossip blogs are being fed bits of info writing up each ‘candidates’ appeal as THE romantic partner to the Marinette Dupain-Cheng paris new darling, the girl with a heart of gold too oblivious to see the trail of hearts following her around! But there is still another contender yet to enter the game! Jaggeds been away on tour teaching Luka his up and coming protege all the tricks. And lets not lie Luka has his own fans now, enough to rival all the others. Jagged sees Luka as his own son, even calling him as much! Hell hes even adopted Luka and Juleka and when I say adopted I mean Jagged literally got shared custody of the kids when their real dad tried to start trouble once Luka started gaining fame. Luka and Juleka for one love their adopted father and his wonderful fiance Penny. But back to Jagged, being Jagged. 

The moment Jagged is back in Paris he's checking up on his favorite designer and hopefully future daughter in law! When… WHAT'S THIS?! All the other ritchies in Paris are playing his game! Trying to get Marinette married into THEIR families! Not rock and roll at all! He was here first! And so being Jagged he decides to make Luka’s stake in the race for Marinette’s heart clear! By spamming social media with photos of Marinette being cute with Luka, taking his measurements, going out with him, the pair babying Fang, the two passed out against each other after a long concert. And he has photos going back at least a year or two! Soon Luka’s fans pick up the hype starting a trending hashtag finding the pair cute! Jagged feels confident that hes won! When Audrey retaliates, and from there its a complete train wreck. Before long each pair has a hashtag filled with cute moments and arguing over whos dating the model / fashion designer! 

Meanwhile Adrien is drowning in denial as he goes through each hashtag seething about how many MORE photos everyone else has with Marinette, when HE is her very good friend and was here first! Felix, Chloe and Kagami on the other hand have declared open war after they tried to talk to each other about the hashtags reasonably only for it to devolve into “so you agree Marinette is best with me!” - “WHAT! No! Thats not what I said! Besides she clearly is best with me!” - “Ridiculous!” And so on. Poor Luka is having an entirely different reaction hiding in shame unsure how to face Marinette because he WAS going to ask her on a proper date now that she seems over Adrien, because even with everything she's the melody playing in his heart and he had a plan! But now his mom and sister are texting him and teasing him and apparently he has MORE competition! Who do these people think they are to deserve Marinette! No! Luka won't lose Jagged has been teaching him to be bold and confident! And Marinette is worth all of his efforts! Jagged REGRETS NOTHING even if Penny confiscated the tv remote!

Marinette meanwhile has no idea what's going on because the whole class made a dumb bet on when the designer would notice with one of the bet conditions being that no one could tip Marinette off and that they have to keep her away from Paparazzi so they dont spoil it either. And sense Alya is helping manage Marinette’s social media Marinette hasn't looked at it yet so she has NO idea what's happening. But her birthday is coming up next week and Chloe definitely didn't get dibs on planning a surprise party for her all so she could spoil the girl and RUB her GREAT relationship with Marinette into her competitions FACES! The competition however (and Adrien JustAfriend Agreste) have decided that they really aren't going down without a fight!

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[sundayswiththeilluminati]

Continued from this post, Part 3 of my discussion of Essek Thelyss in the context of real-world espionage. This time: what happens to espionage assets in the long run? Do they break contact, and why? What might have been in store for Essek?

At the treaty meeting Essek tells Ludinus to his face that he wants no further contact with the Assembly, not even to learn what the Assembly discovers via their own beacon. He’s far from the first asset to try to sever their relationship, and it ends in one of three ways: they don’t manage to break contact, they break contact but voluntarily return, or (rarest of all) they end the relationship permanently. 

Most attempts don’t go beyond option 1, because intelligence agencies are not in the business of respecting their assets’ choices. Handlers are skilled in keeping the upper hand in their asset relationships and will take any further opportunity to gain leverage by compromising the asset. For instance they’ll often pay for information even if the asset hasn’t requested it, because money changing hands makes it far harder for an asset to frame their activities positively to their own side if they attempt to confess (”You expect us to believe they were blackmailing you when you got $10,000 to hand over the secret manual?” etc.) And when push comes to shove most people aren’t willing to accept the severe punishments for espionage. An asset’s threat to confess is more likely a negotiating ploy than a serious option.

Some assets, especially nervous or ego-driven ones, get the carrot: the KGB did a strong line in awarding secret medals to convince them they were doing important, well-regarded work and that the KGB would protect them - not an empty reassurance, as highly-placed moles like Aldrich Ames warranted elaborate ops involving double and triple agents to avert suspicions. And some assets get the stick: the handler tightens the screws using whatever leverage they’ve gained, implies that they’re already “too far in to go back,” or gives some time for those who were blackmailed into spying to think about the consequences of exposure.[1]

Those who get as far as option two, breaking it off and later returning, are usually driven away by fear but back by finances. Fantasy spies have all sorts of motives but in real life the majority are in it for the money. Assets, as you might imagine, make bad choices. About half start selling secrets just to stave off massive debt from overspending and poor financial decisions (the rest feel underpaid.) So even if these assets stop temporarily, the circumstances that drove them to espionage in the first place are still very much present. In these cases all a handler has to do is shrug and say, “You know where to find us.” Infamous FBI mole Robert Hanssen broke off contact with his Russian handlers when the Soviet Union collapsed, fearing he might get outed in the chaos, but linked back up with them just 10 months later when, surprise surprise, he needed some cash.

And then there are the rare handful who stop completely. There’s a bit of survivor(?) bias here because anyone who passes along secrets, breaks off the relationship before being caught, and manages to get away with it is by definition someone we don’t know about. Those who do manage to break contact long-term are usually able to do so because they left the situation that gave them access to interesting secrets and therefore the controlling agency determined they were no longer a useful resource and not worth pursuing. But even if an asset stops working for an agency, they’re far from forgotten - and far from off the hook. Names and evidence of their espionage would be kept on file for potential use as blackmail, leverage in state-to-state negotiations, or expendable material to prove bona fides in ops involving fake defectors or triple agents. A surprising number of spies are caught/outed years after their espionage ended.

Very few assets permanently sever their espionage relationships the hard way: making a genuine confession and accepting punishment. But it’s not unheard-of, especially if the espionage was brief and the asset believes the damage can be repaired. In 1989 Army signals analyst Michael Peri disappeared from his post in West Germany along with a portable computer containing numerous classified documents. Eleven days later he returned to his previous post with the computer and voluntarily confessed to the theft and sort-of defection to East Germany. When interrogated, Peri - who had been a model soldier until that point - said he felt overworked and underappreciated by his superiors, though he couldn’t entirely explain his decisions either to leave or to return (a sexy female Russian agent might also have been involved). He received a 30-year sentence.

Marine Clayton Lonetree, a guard stationed at the US Embassy in Moscow in 1985, was blackmailed over an affair to hand over details on the embassy compound for a year, but his conscience finally got the better of him and he confessed in late 1986. Being a Marine he faced the very real prospect of death by firing squad, but the court martial ended up giving him a 30-year sentence. It was later reduced to 15 after the Marine Corps Commandant wrote a letter to the Navy Secretary on his behalf attributing the young Marine’s actions not to treason or greed but to loneliness, naivety, and poor judgement.[2]

Going back to Essek’s case, he’s already in the minority of espionage assets because he doesn’t want money in return for the secrets he passes along; though the knowledge the Assembly promises him in return fulfills a similar desire, Essek doesn’t need that knowledge to pay off the equivalent of debt or to maintain his lifestyle. He has no pressures at home that force him to continue spying. With the beacons returned, the fall guys in place, and their tracks seemingly covered, he tells Ludinus that all he wants is to be rid of the entire affair. That rules out option one (he sincerely means to cut the Assembly off) and option two (he won’t be driven back by need.) 

Essek is also in an unusual position in that the worst of the damage he caused is repairable - just return the beacons.[3] A secret, once compromised, can’t be un-compromised. If an asset hands over a cipher machine they can’t fix the situation by stealing the cipher machine back; the foreign agency they sold it to has already studied the machine and learned its secrets, meaning it’s now effectively useless. But returning the beacons restores what the Kryn lost. While keeping dunamancy secret gives the Kryn a tactical edge, and I’m sure the Dynasty would prefer to keep the magical soulstones of their elite hidden from their long-time rival, the beacons don’t need to be secret to work. Essek therefore has a much better chance than most to simply repair the damage, cut off his handlers, and try to forget the whole affair ever happened. He might even think that, now that the Assembly has their own beacon, they’ll have no further use for him and will just leave him alone.

But from the Cerberus Assembly's perspective, this fruit still has plenty of juice in it and they risk nothing by continuing to squeeze. Now that they have their own beacon Essek’s knowledge becomes even more valuable. He has access to hundreds of years of dunamantic spellcrafting - and more importantly the rite of consecution, since the Assembly were probably after beacons in the first place to make themselves immortal. If Essek is caught, it’s treason for him, but the Assembly doesn’t suffer; they were doing it for the good of the Empire, learning about dunamancy to help the war effort. So if he refuses to keep spying voluntarily for the Assembly, they’ll just have to find another way to motivate him. 

As part of evaluating Essek before recruitment, Assembly operatives would have noted that he’s, well, highly motivated to save his own skin. Ludinus’ goal therefore becomes to make Essek see further espionage as the only way to stay alive. So instead of confronting Essek then and there, Ludinus shrugs and goes, “Okay. Sure.” Then he activates the Volstruckers, maybe leaks a little info to the Dynasty about a traitor in their midst, and sets up Essek to stew in fear, feeling isolated and attacked from both sides - targeted by the Assembly for his defiance, under suspicion from the Dynasty, unable to ask for help because of his crimes. Ludinus sits back and waits for Essek to re-establish contact on his own. Of course Ludinus didn’t know that the M9 had confronted Essek and gotten him to confess, making a return to spying impossible even if he tried.

While Essek’s motives revolve around ego, frustration, and rebellion, his situation is more like those of people who end up defecting because they’re unable to pursue their careers or live as they want to back home. He has virtually no social/family ties to leave behind, no loyalty to Dynasty authority, and no religious fervor to defend the Luxon, while the Assembly promises him the company of like minds and free rein in his experiments. Assuming no intervention by the M9 I think Essek would have ended up defecting to the Cerberus Assembly. If he did it early enough in the story he might have even joined the Volstruckers to complete the narrative foil transformation.

If the crew had confronted him at the treaty but not offered mercy I think he would have defected purely out of fear, thinking the Assembly were the only people who could protect him from both the Dynasty and the M9. He was already on edge watching the guy he'd set up to take the fall getting walked away in chains and with the Assembly's Wind of Aeons ship right there it would be the ideal time to make the move. Assuming the treaty confrontation went as it did (the crew makes him confess but lets him live) but the M9 hadn’t shown up in Eiselcross, Essek would likely have fled the outpost and gone into hiding in a bid to outrun his crimes (and probably gotten caught two weeks later given how awful he was at being “Dezrain Thane.”)

Essek is far from the first recruited asset to regret what they did even as they kept doing it. Those who can sell out their nation and not feel even a pang of guilt are thankfully thin on the ground. Most start off doing what seems to be a favor for a friend - or accepting a favor from a friend who wants to help with their “financial difficulties” - and end up so deep they can’t see any way forward other than to keep handing over secrets. He’s one more in a long line of those who compromised information out of frustration, especially through the appeal to shared professional interests (that’s how industrial assets tend to be recruited.)

But he’s also in a much better place to make up for it than most assets. Since he primarily compromised property, not secrets, returning said property can (somewhat, mostly) repair the damage done, which goes a long way towards buying leniency from the powers that be. And now I’m realizing that this post actually needs one final part, which is: how do you try someone for espionage, and should you charge them with it in the first place?

[1]  While spy dramas love sexy blackmail, and handlers will happily collect it to leverage against a balky asset, it works far less often in reality as a main reason for espionage. Social penalties for extramarital affairs pale before actual legal penalties like the death sentence for treason. On the other hand, those with foreign relatives are sometimes coerced by threats against those relatives.

[2]  Lonetree’s case for leniency got a boost in 1994 when Aldrich Ames was finally caught and some serious breaches of embassy security that had been attributed to Lonetree were found to be Ames’ work instead. In 1996 Lonetree was released after having served 9 years total.

[3] Although I did just think of a really messed-up Cerberus Assembly plan: consecute a handful of completely loyal Volstruckers, kill them, and send the beacons back so said agents will be reborn in the Dynasty and work to undermine it from within. How fucked up would that be?? Campaign 3 plot hook anyone?

(This accidentally turned into a series on Essek & IRL espionage: Parts 1, 2, 3, 4)

[myriadismx]

Your Call | Part III

Pairing: Bakugou x F!Reader

Word Count: 10,091

Summary: As the only daughter from an affluent family, Y/N must fulfill a role inside the golden cage she escapes from at every opportunity. But as an enthralling and mysterious boy comes into her life, she's about to discover there's no escaping her true self.

Warnings: Non-con, gore, Implications of cannibalism & incest

Author's Notes: Sorry I took longer than expected, I had a lot of work to do! Thank you for going through my weird story and supporting it, I hope you enjoyed it! I have more ideas coming at me, and hopefully every single one will meet the light! See you around!

It wasn’t long before your parents returned to the same old routine of forcibly drilling your mind with thoughts of Enji Todoroki. Your mother would make you sit down with her to refine your tea ceremony and household management skills, which you hated. Every time you tried to bring up the subject of your love affair with Katsuki with her, she'd distract you with more lessons, or would say:

"You shouldn't speak out of tune in front of the Count. He has no tolerance for silly blabbering, just stay still and listen." 

You felt more and more suffocated and anxious by the day, as if your temper threatened to claw out of you and engulf everything. Nothing about your current life made you feel content, not even the few hobbies you had. Except, of course, visiting the waterfall to run in the nude and make love with Katsuki, or “mating” as he candidly put it. 

There was a limit on how much Katsuki could wait, and you hoped he would let you handle things. But he couldn't be swayed by anyone but you, although this time he felt his paranoia was justified and knew your relationship wouldn't be met with approval from anyone. 

“I can’t stand this anymore,” Katsuki admitted after coming down from his lustful haze once again. “I know they’re up to something and I don’t like it.”

“Something like what?” 

Remembering what he had witnessed made him press your body tighter against yours, afraid that you’d be snatched away from him. “When I stopped in the kitchen for manju this morning, I heard the maids discussing preparations for,” his eyebrows furrowed deeply. “A wedding banquet.” 

That was enough to make you brusquely pull apart from Katsuki and become concerned. You weren’t as up to date with high society events as a lady of your standing was supposed to be, but you were certain that no other women of your age were getting married anytime soon. The only one in your inner circle who was currently being courted was you. 

Paying heed to Katsuki's gut feeling, you confronted your parents about it at supper. Since you were a woman that couldn't inherit their properties and businesses, they were keen on marrying you to a man that could take over those things while you dedicated yourself to keeping order and carrying on with their bloodline. Katsuki had originally been raised as a potential son-in-law, but he was soon skipped over as soon as they realized your beauty was a valuable asset they could use to get an even better match and a higher position. 

“We kept this from you because we were hoping you would come to terms with it. But the truth is," your mother smiled with great elation. "The Count asked your father for your hand in marriage the day he started courting you, and we gave our consent.”

“It can’t be! Why…?” you panicked and stood up. Your mother raised her palm to gesture at you, a warning to keep your voice down. “W-when it’s supposed to happen?”

“Next week.” your father replied. “Enji is traveling to Korea within two months to fulfill his duty with the Emperor and our nation.” 

“You won’t see him again until the war with China is over. Don’t be unreasonable and give the old man the satisfaction of making you his happy bride."

You had gotten angry at your parents before, but never like this. You were overcome with the urge to destroy everything around you, to grab them by their throats, and scream they had no right to turn you into a prisoner for another man just like they had done to Katsuki’s father. But at the same time, you were conflicted and remorseful because they had done so much to give you a comfortable life, even though you had no need for luxuries or a higher social standing. 

However, Katsuki didn’t possess any of the restraints that were holding you back from lashing out. He was beyond furious, for the same reasons, and many more, that he had kept quiet until now. But without his father there to keep him grounded, he had no reason to stay silent and subservient to those people that dared claim him as their property. 

The chair squeaked loudly as he stood up in protest. “I won’t allow you to do this to Y/N!” 

“We are her parents and we have already decided she is to go with a man that will care for her better than anyone.” your father told him in the same authoritative tone he used with his workers.

“You’re nothing but a passing fancy with added benefits,” your mother cut in, goading in the slight tinge of hurt on Katsuki’s face. “You couldn’t possibly be worthy of her.”

“She’s my mate!” he blurted out with determination burning in his eyes. “I’ve claimed her as mine and she accepted my heart! She stays with me!”

Under different circumstances, you’d have been very happy to hear Katsuki openly declare his love for you. But at that moment, as your parents looked at Katsuki with repulsion, and then that disgust was focused on you, you felt cornered and afraid of facing the consequences of his outburst.  

“What have you done, child?!” your father bellowed, eyes widening at the realization that you were no longer a virgin. By the look on his face, you knew he was full of rage. He didn’t look anymore like the loving parent you had grown up with. 

Your mother’s reaction was the worst, though. Her face was stone-cold as she slapped you hard, making you stumble on your feet. Katsuki launched himself at her, and grabbed her by the neck. You felt the killing intent on him, and grabbed his arm to stop him from doing something that would worsen his case. 

“Let me go, you oaf!” she kicked and struggled under his grasp, but Katsuki kept her in place. 

“I should’ve done this a long time ago!” his nails thickened, digging into her skin and drawing out droplets of blood. “You have to pay for your sins!”

“Katsuki no!”

You watched in horror as your father pressed the barrel of his pistol on Katsuki’s temple and clicked the hammer, ready to shoot. “Let go, and, as your adoptive father, I’ll let you leave unharmed.” 

Katsuki scoffed bitterly. “You dare call yourself my father?” he glanced at him, and then at your mother again with pure, unadulterated hate . “I have a father. His name was Masaru.”

Nonetheless, Katsuki let go of your mother’s throat and she gasped for air. While she lay on the floor coughing, instead of crouching down to her level to see if she was alright, your eyes caught your father’s finger pulling from the trigger ever so slightly. He didn’t intend to honor his promise, but your reflexes were faster and you threw yourself at him, grabbing his wrist and pointing his arm upwards.

“Out of my way, Y/N!”

Katsuki was already starting to transform and about to deliver a killing blow at your father, but you deliberately stood in his way. “Katsuki, flee!”

“I fucking won’t! Not without you!” He stubbornly refused to back down and wished to exact his revenge on your parents right there and then. But the sight of your pleading tears was enough to remind him this whole affair had never been about himself. He couldn’t afford getting himself killed before he could free you. 

“I’ll return for you!” he promised, before jumping out of a window and getting lost in the darkness.

Your father threw you off himself and rang the bell that was hanging at the entrance, alerting everyone that lived on the estate grounds, including his hunting party. “Bring Katsuki down! Kill him!”

With the servants and retainers out looking for your lover, you were left at the complete mercy of your father. He raised his hand to back hand you as well, but hesitated and used it instead to pull you into an embrace. It wasn’t your fault that you were seduced by the man who pretended to be your friend, or so he preferred to think. 

“You…” His wrath was calm and ominous.  “Don’t say a word about this and let us hope Enji will never find out about your indiscretion.”

He tightly grabbed you by the arm and dragged you to the west wing of the house. But when you walked past the servants' quarters, you knew exactly where he was taking you, and struggled to be released; but your mother held your other arm. 

"You better have the key with you." He addressed your mother.

"I always have. But I never thought we'd have to use the dark room again!" Your mother cursed under her breath. 

The dark room was a small room next to the kitchen that used to be a cellar. As its name indicated, this room barely received any light, since it had only a very small window for ventilation; therefore, it was also perpetually cold. All it had was an old futon and a chamber pot. It had changed its food-storing purpose when your great-uncle was born with a severe mental illness, and to spare the family from public shame, he was isolated in that room all his life. 

When you were very little and misbehaved, or did something that greatly displeased your parents, you'd be locked in that room for days without food or water. You vividly recalled the first time your mother threw you there, how you desperately scratched the door and cried for her without understanding what you had done wrong. Only until you were too exhausted and dehydrated to make a fuss were you released. But you endured further episodes of isolation, until you finally bent to their will. Being on your own was a truly terrifying experience. 

And now that you were reunited with your soulmate and had bonded with him for life, being locked in the dark room felt like being thrown into a freezing and obscure hell. It'd have been better if they had killed you then and there. 

The days that followed until the day chosen to celebrate the wedding were spent in tension. In order to prevent Katsuki from fulfilling his vow, two armed men were watching over the entrance to the dark room. This time you were fed twice a day to avoid looking unattractive and sick due to weight loss. Your meals were brought by your mother, but you always left them untouched because the way you and Katsuki were being treated sickened you to your stomach. 

The thought of seeing your missing mate again was the only thing that kept you sane through this whole ordeal. Each night you dozed off waiting for him, and as long as no one burst through the door to bring Katsuki’s head on a platter, you held hope that he was going to come for you. You just knew nothing would stop him from doing so. 

Although you didn’t drink Katsuki’s sleeping drought again, you continued having the dreams that started sweetly before they became nightmares that rose you covered in sweat and tears. You suspected that they were actually memories from your earliest days. They felt too real to be mere dreams, but also they didn’t make much sense most of the time, and you didn’t know what to think of them.

“My precious girl, Mama loves you so much…” that sweet, motherly voice purred in your ear. You could tell she meant it, if the amount of kisses and nuzzling were anything to go by.

“You’re going to crush her,” an unfamiliar but gentle male voice piped in. “Where’s…?”

“Oh, he said he wanted to bring food for her, too.” She laughed softly. “I was worried he’d dislike her, but I’m so glad he’s so dedicated to her.”

“I’m going to help him. Go back to our hideout and rest.” He kissed her forehead and cupped her face, which was too blurry to you.

“I want to stay here for a little bit longer, the moon is so gorgeous and makes her sleep better.”

You were indeed having a peaceful slumber with the acts of love taking place above you. They laughed at your mewls of contentment and he kissed your forehead, too, tickling you with his facial hair.

The bliss of a peaceful slumber didn’t last long. Soon you were plagued by the same disturbances and rustling mixed with fear and despair from previous dreams. You were in the midst of a desperate fight and you couldn’t do anything to stop it.

“Go away, it’s mine!” your mother’s voice screamed, afraid to let go of you. “Oh God, what is she?!”

You struggled under her grip, sensing that something bad was about to happen. You heard a distressed cry from that other voice and responded to it with more crying until the thunder silenced everything and abruptly ended your dream.

Your jolted awake with tremors and sweating profusely. Your breathing was short and heavy, as if your heart had engaged in a desperate race to save your life. 

That wasn't the case, though. You were in the safety of your room, but far from comforting you, being all by yourself, knowing that you were being kept locked was just as nerve-wracking. The practice of offering sacrificial maidens had already run out of practice, but you were being treated like one, ready to be given away to a demon pretending to be a merciful god. 

Outside you heard the noise of rushing footsteps, probably from the peons who had apparently shot at an intruder, and you picked up your ears to try to understand what was going on.

“Did you catch him?!” your father's voice boomed. Your heart raced in dread at the possibility that Katsuki had tried to sneak in and had been shot dead.

“I thought I had seen Katsuki, but it looked more like an animal, probably a fox.”

There was a long pause, and your father spoke again. “Next time you see a soul nearby, human or animal, kill it!”

You growled in anger at your father’s unfair cruelty towards the man you loved, and wanted nothing more than to have him in front of you to pluck his eyes out. But Katsuki told you that his father had taught him the virtues of being patient, and that you were confident that the chance to escape would present itself. 

It wasn’t long before you were released from that room with golden shackles to celebrate your wedding to the Count. Your parents bore proud smiles at your apparent resignation and docility, and thought they should have locked you out earlier to ensure your obedience. 

You didn’t protest when the servants dressed you in a pristine white kimono and adorned you with make-up and accessories. They commented you looked more beautiful than any bride they had ever seen, but upon looking at yourself in the mirror, you were met with the reflection of a stranger instead of your true self. 

You didn’t grimace while the marriage ceremony took place and your life was practically sold off to a man twice your age. If your parents could see your despair underneath your expressionless face, they probably  turned a blind eye to it. The guests were very attentive to you only because they wanted to see you crack under the pressure of living as one of them. You weren’t going to give them that twisted satisfaction.

You didn’t cry at night when Enji hungrily kissed your skin as he undressed you. His breath reeked of sake, and his hands lasciviously touched your body without caring if you wanted it or not. Your frigidness didn’t help your cause and you soon found out Enji wasn’t a very patient man. 

He held your jaw to look at your face, and was met with your defiant gaze. “You’re my wife now,” he reminded you. “I expect you to be respectful and obedient. You’re going to learn to please me.”

His words were a reminder that you were now a prisoner to a man you loathed and broke your resolve to remain stoic. However, it strengthened your unwillingness to be taken by him. Not without putting up a good fight first, and spat on his face.

Enji grabbed you by the hair and effortlessly threw you over the futon that had been carefully laid out for you. It was very difficult to get him off you given his impressive height and girth, plus his military training. He was determined to be the first and only man to break and dominate you, to make you his slave and swell you in no time with his brood. Your rejection was infuriating, but only increased his desire to claim you.

“Stop fucking resisting!” Enji snarled, pressing his lips against yours and forcing his tongue past them. 

The Count finally lost it when you scratched him in the face so hard that you drew blood and blinded his left eye. He returned the favor with a slap that knocked the air out of your lungs, and wrapped his hand around your dainty neck while the other placed your right leg over his shoulder. His hard cock rested heavily on your mound, eager to impale you and make you cum on it. 

You mewled underneath him in despair and clawed your nails at his arms, until you passed out due to the lack of oxygen. Your closed eyelashes couldn't stop the flow of your wounded pride coming from your eyes. It wasn't your fault, but you felt you had betrayed Katsuki for allowing someone else to claim what you willingly decided it belonged to him.

Once you stopped thrashing, Enji released you and contemplated the mess in the room with a scoff. So much for the smooth wedding night he had fantasized about for years. He expected some hesitance and naivety from you given your shyness around him, but you were quite a ferocious woman. 

Well, since you now were unable to stop him from exercising his marital privileges, he could as well enjoy fucking you like this. Even unconscious and slightly battered, you looked exquisitely beautiful, with your body ripe and smooth, all for himself. 

He parted your legs and scowled at your lack of arousal. If he pounced at you like this, you’d wake up screaming, but you deserved to be fucked dry to make you bleed like you just did to him and teach you to be more compliant next time.

As he slipped the head of his cock on your entrance past the tight ring of muscles and groaned in pleasure, a sudden gust of wind blew the windows open, extinguishing the candles and plunging the room in absolute darkness.  

"Y/N..." a deep voice called for you in your slumber. "Y/N..."

You didn't want to look up. The fear of being confronted with the vision of your rapist, and the shame of what he had done were too much. But the calling was throbbing in your head with so much insistence that you had no choice but to raise your head. You laid bare over the grass next to a riverbank, and apparently you were hallucinating too, because there was no one else present saying your name.

Enji's tainted and burning touch was still very present in your body, and you threw yourself in the water to clean yourself. Perhaps the current would take away his curse and your sorrows; you didn't want Katsuki to return and find you in this sorry state. While washing your face, the flow stilled, and you were met with the sight of a broken woman over the surface; but when the droplets of water fell over it, there was a jaguar looking at you.

"Don't panic." the animal commanded you with the same tone Katsuki employed when he was the one calming you. "I heard your calling for help, so here I am."

The jaguar permeated through the reflection and became real in front of you, but you didn't feel threatened by it. It was like having Masaru with you again, and its presence alone soothed you like only Katsuki could. He had promised to protect you, so this must've been his animal spirit responding to the screams of your heart when Enji violated you.

"I've always been near you. I know all about you," it licked your hand and rubbed its back on your hips, wrapping your waist with its tail. "If you continue like this, you'll die. Without you, Katsuki will die too."

Flashbacks of your first mating with Katsuki returned to you. Not only had you given him your virginity and a taste of the intense feelings you held for him, but it also felt like you had bound your soul to that of Katsuki's. You didn't want to leave him behind and make him experience the same prolonged and agonizing grief his father went through.

You had to become stronger. You had to take the reins of your own life and fight for your freedom.

The bright rays of morning sunlight shining on your naked back gently helped bring you back from your slumber. But after the events that transpired in that room last night, you would have preferred to stay asleep all day. Your body ached terribly, you felt queasy, and you felt like all your energy had been sucked out of you.  All because of Enji.

Your hand tightly clenched the futon and you rose from under the covers, feeling uncomfortably sticky underneath them. But once you finally perked up, you found yourself in the middle of what looked like a battlefield: Your blankets and naked body had stains of blood; the furniture was damaged beyond repair; the expensive décor was garbage now, and you spotted the bloody paw prints of an animal on the destroyed tatami.

"Where are you...?" You whispered to yourself, your gaze searching for Enji. But the sudden knock on the door interrupted your search. "Come in."

"My Lady, good morning!" An elderly maid came in to change the bed sheets and help you get dressed, but gasped in horror upon seeing the deplorable state everything was in. "What happened?!"

"It was already like this when I woke up." You calmly picked up a robe and put on it while your maid looked for any clues on Enji's whereabouts.

"The Count has not left this room either. His sandals are still here," the older woman felt something wet dripping on the back of her neck and she absentmindedly wiped it off while looking for Enji. "Where he could have---?"

The servant fell silent with shock upon realizing there was blood on her fingers; and when she looked up, there was a growing blood stain on the ceiling, and the trapdoor was slightly ajar. After calling another maid to help her open the jammed trapdoor and make an inspection, the mangled body of Count Enji Todoroki dangled from above them, splashing more blood and part of his innards over the horrified women.  

Hysteria and horror took over the entire household as the news of your husband's death spread among the servants. They tried to keep you from looking at his partially consumed body when it was pulled down by the police, but you stared right at his vacant eyes with cold indifference. They wondered if a beast had snuck inside the room during the night and attacked their master. But if that had been the case, how did his body end up in the ceiling, and why, was a mystery, especially because nobody heard anything unusual.

The horrific murder of Count Enji Todoroki on his wedding night was soon made public knowledge and all fingers pointed in your direction right away. You calmly replied to all the questions the lawful authorities made to you while they investigated the crime scene. Since there was no murder weapon, no witnesses, and evidence of the presence of a wild animal in the room, you were released from any suspicions. Besides, there was no way you could have killed Enji given the huge difference in size and build plus his military training.

While the investigation was carried out, you were sent back to your parents' home. Within a few days, the official story was that after consummating his marriage, the Count sat next to the window, and an animal, probably a bear, attacked him and ignored you because it mistook your sleeping form for a dead body. However, they couldn't find an explanation as to how Enji ended up hidden in the staircase and were too ashamed to admit they weren't competent enough to explain the horrendous crime.

"You could at least pretend you're a bereaved widow, Y/N." your mother scolded you after a detective informed you of their final report of Enji's death, and you looked like the cat that ate the canary. It was actually pretty unsettling.

"He had it coming." You retorted with a cynical smirk. "You wanted me to marry him, but you can't make me give a damn about him."

"Your mother and I only wanted what was best for everyone, and the best match for you was Enji," your father interjected. He also suspected you had something to do with your premature widowhood, but to avoid ostracism and scandal, he showed outrage when you were interrogated by the police. "He's gone for good now."

His pessimistic train of thoughts was interrupted by his wife's hand on his shoulder. When he shrugged her off and turned to glare at her, she had a faint but reassuring smile. "There is still his son Shouto." Both of them glanced at you, sharing the same idea.

You left them alone to discuss whatever lunatic plan they were up to now, not intending to follow it even if they locked you up again. It was very upsetting to witness the extent of their hypocrisy, their ambition, and their dishonesty.

During the wedding reception they kissed your face and told you their house was yours as well and would receive you with open arms anytime you wished. But when you crossed their door the very next day, you were welcomed with grim faces. They probably fed you that lie to make you leave without protest and expected you to return much later to introduce them to their first grandchild.  

Their actions validated Katsuki's words when he told you he was your only and true family. From the very beginning you felt drawn to him, and he corresponded with undying devotion and fierce protectiveness. Katsuki had promised to return for you, but you weren't certain how long he was going to take, and after what happened with Enji, you decided to not stand idly and allow somebody else to invalidate your wishes ever again.

Especially now that you had to protect someone of your own.

You smiled softly and placed a palm over your stomach, looking down longingly. Feelings of serenity, fulfillment and joyful anticipation took possession of you, but with them also came the lack of your monthly bleed and a newfound strength you never imagined you had. It was still too early to be noticeable and you felt just fine, but you knew Katsuki's seed was growing inside of you, and that was enough to make you snap at anyone who threatened you.

Hiding your pregnancy was not as easy as you thought it'd be. Instead of having to deal with fatigue and morning sickness, your increased hunger and strange cravings sparked the curiosity and disgust of your parents when they first manifested and forced you to have your meals in your bedroom. Half-raw beefsteaks and pheasant stew were eaten frequently and ravenously, not even bothering to use cutlery or chopsticks for their consumption. Perhaps the child inside of you had inherited more of Katsuki than you expected, but perhaps they were taking after you. Your eating habits were messy and rapacious when you were very young, until you were taught proper table manners.

"What a wonderful appetite. It's a good thing the game keeps coming," your maid Camie remarked when you handed her your empty bowl and demanded more food. "Though if the Master finds out someone is out there hunting without his permission, they'll get beaten to a pulp!"

"I will make sure he will show leniency if he catches the culprit. I know Father and Mother are also enjoying the gifts of our mysterious hunter." You chuckled, and the other girl also giggled, grateful that she had a very kind mistress, but also unknowing of the true reason behind your smile.

The night prior, you couldn't sleep and were looking through your bedroom's window when you spotted a jaguar in the garden carrying a dead pheasant between its fangs. You clearly felt your soul almost jump out of your body in joy, because you could recognize Katsuki in animal or human form, and you thought he had come to honor his promise.

You had been careless, though, and rushed outside, barefoot, to go after him, screaming his name. That mistake prevented you from noticing the foreman coming behind you. When his hand landed on your shoulder, you had to pretend you were taking a nocturnal stroll to avoid attracting more attention to your now gone lover. But the wind gently breezed over you, carrying a message that was for your ears only.

"Full moon..."

That's all it took for you to understand you had a fortnight to be prepared not only for Katsuki's arrival, but to figure out how you could go past the guards that were still watching out for any sign of his presence.

There wasn't much a captive pregnant woman like you could do but wander around the house to look for an escape route. 

Fond memories of your childhood with Katsuki returned to you. He was very good at coming up with exciting games for you two, and your favorite of all of them was called "Stalking". 

It consisted of walking around the manor without being noticed or making a noise, not even the slightest creak over the wooden floor, and pounce on an unsuspicious person. The one who ended up getting more "prey" was the winner. Katsuki emerged victorious every time, but when you did end up beating him at his own game, Katsuki looked full of pride instead of being upset like the other boys, though he insisted he was still the best. 

That game was put to an end when you knocked over your mother and her tray of sweets. But you retained the skills acquired thanks to it and they came in handy now that you wanted to take night strolls for research purposes. Your parents had strict schedules and always went to bed early, but it was a surprise to find them out of their beds, still wearing their day clothes and sitting quietly.

They didn't notice your presence, and that allowed you to get close enough to watch your father cleaning his hunting rifle with a hard glare, as if he was prepared to shoot down the first living being that entered the room. You knew he was eager to personally bring down Katsuki, and it took all of your willpower to not grab him by the neck and kill him with your own hands.

Your mother was also glaring down at her hands that held a tantō knife. She wasn't trained to use a weapon for self-defense, but was prepared to take her own life if it came down to it. Next to her was a cup of her sleeping tea, and the medicine she drank with it to ease her frail nerves. But tonight the sedatives didn't seem to be working anymore. If she asked you nicely, you could prepare her a special sleeping tea from your own invention to get some relief.

"I can't take off my head that perhaps we're cursed," she spoke. "What has recently happened to us ever since that awful boy left and what happened to Enji can't be just a coincidence."

"The only curse here is your weak womb and your darn nerves," he spat bitterly. "You should've given me a son. You couldn't even do that right."

Your mother looked up at him, hurt in her eyes. "I also regret it, you know." She replied. "I should've never brought Y/N to our lives."

You should've cried, run to her, and ask her why they were now lamenting your birth. But you didn't. Perhaps you had ceased to consider them worthy of your affection and obedience, and were only stuck with them because that was the best course of action until Katsuki came to pick you up.  

"Be thankful to your ancestors that Shouto has offered to take his father's place," your father placed the rifle down. "He'll come soon with a proposal for Y/N and this madness will be over."

You really hoped Katsuki would come for you before Shouto did. You didn't harbor any kind of resentment towards Shouto or felt remotely attracted to him, but he was one of the few decent people you knew. He didn't deserve to be dragged into this madness, as your father fittingly named it.  Besides, Katsuki had always reacted badly when Shouto showed you kindness and you wanted to prevent a tragedy.

You had never seen the moon become as big as it was that night. Not even the harvest moon had looked so close to Earth. Apparently it also had some sort of mystical effect on you because your senses were heightened, you were hungrier than ever, and as ludicrous as it was, you could feel the baby inside of you stir in the depths of your belly. It should have been impossible this early on, but there was no other explanation as to why you felt something wanted to come forth from inside of you.

All these sudden changes would make anyone anxious, but you accepted them without fuss. You could focus on them later, because your priority now was the young woman sleeping over your bed wearing your clothes.

"I'm sorry, Camie." You covered her body with a blanket. "You'll be safer in the land of dreams."

Your plan consisted in lacing a cup of tea with a concentrated sleeping potion and giving it to your favorite maid. That way, she was going to stay away from what was about to transpire and become your decoy by taking your place in your bed. Also, her clothes would help you remain unnoticed as you hid yourself in the rice barn to wait for Katsuki and get away before anyone realized you were missing. 

Nobody noticed you were out of bed after bedtime, but you did witness that your parents were particularly restless as well. You were too much in a rush to stop and listen to their conversation, but you could feel their fear from afar.

You licked your lips and sniffed the air.

He was coming.

With the moonlight glowing above as his only guide, and his desire to exact revenge on those who had aggravated him and his family as his source of strength, Katsuki made his way to the L/N estate. He could've done this the moment he stood in front of your father and mother, but he was set on claiming you too, and that forced him to think carefully about how he was going to do both things.

Katsuki was aware that you had grown to be attached to them; that their way of living was the only one you knew, and he knew better than to forcibly pull you out of your comfort zone was only going to be detrimental to his plans. You were too precious for him to risk getting your rejection and making you lose your will to live.

For your sake, Katsuki had to create the ideal situation to make you willingly leave your old life behind, and to make you want him as much as he wanted you. He showed you what it was like to live as one of his own; encouraged you to experience it; watched with glee how readily you adapted to his habits, and stood by your side as your world came crashing down and you started to see the true colors of those people you called your parents.

The bond you built up over the years allowed him to have a spiritual connection with you, and he knew not long after he was chased away that his seed had taken root in your womb. Katsuki was overcome with so many emotions that he couldn't resist the call of the wild. His instinct recklessly drove him out into danger to make sure you were safe and hunt down fresh meat for his expecting mate. The brief sight he got of you seeking his presence was the confirmation he needed to return you to where you belonged.

With him.

Katsuki snuck past the guards, but your scent didn't guide him to your chambers, but to the granary. He grinned when he spotted you waiting for him there, understanding that you had taken a course of action of your own and facilitated things for him. 

Perhaps he had taken longer than anticipated, because you threw yourself at his arms with tears in your eyes. You didn't call  him out on his scandalous state of undress, and he also didn't make inquiries in regards to your lack of luggage or money. Now that you were running off to your freedom, you wouldn't be needing those things anymore. 

Each second was gold, but Katsuki spared a moment to hold your face and press a kiss on your lips. You returned it with the same intensity, your fingertips clawing softly at his shoulders. He licked your tears and kissed your cheek, also placing his palm over your stomach. It felt warm and comforting, and a purr escaped your lips. 

You sniffed. "I thought you weren't coming."

"I fucking told you I would," he smirked and teasingly nipped your ear. "I'd never let you down."

Katsuki held your hand and guided you to the route he had come from, successfully taking you out of your family's grounds. You followed him, but you had many questions as to why things ended up like this. Why did your father take Katsuki in if he was going to hunt him down in the end? Your mother rejected him from the very beginning, but you could see the fear in her eyes when Katsuki was around; and, as much as Katsuki was dissatisfied, he waited until now to make his escape. It didn't make any sense. 

Katsuki could feel there was a speck of doubt in you when he felt your hand softening on his grip and your pace slowing down. 

"Y/N, there is a reason why I had to wait until tonight to come for you." He looked up at the moon, and you followed his gaze.

You hadn't noticed before because you were too focused on carrying out your escape plan, but the moon was as red as blood. "But you have to listen to it yourself from them."

"What are you talking about?" You asked, but Katsuki forced you to duck down as a thundering sound brought you back from your haze.

Jutoku L/N,  the man you once called father, was aiming at Katsuki with his rifle.  "Y/N!"

The latter didn't give him the chance to get him, and pulled you once again with him. He was incredibly fast, but so were you. Soon you noticed there was a large party going after you with weapons and torches. They didn't care if they started a forest fire, their mission was to kill Katsuki and retrieve you.

"Up!" Katsuki ordered you, and you climbed up a tree to hide. 

Your priority was to stay safe and protect your child at all costs. But when you heard screams and gunshots, and the scent of blood permeated in the air, you couldn't stay put and bear the thought of leaving Katsuki alone to deal with your pursuers. You descended carefully to join your mate.

Or so you intended to do if not because Jutoku grabbed you by the forearm and forced you to turn around. 

"Y/N, don't! You'll be doomed if you follow him!" 

After so many lies, you refused to believe he was genuinely concerned about you. At least not in the way a father was supposed to care for his daughter. Therefore, you pulled your arm and pushed his chest to get away from him.

"Let go of me, you monst-!" 

You were silenced with a slap in the face. It was the first time he ever landed a hand on you, and it'd be the last. "Get a hold of yourself, child!" 

Your father instantly regretted his method to silence you and held you in a soft, protective embrace. It had been so long since the last time he showed you affection. You had gotten lost during a family trip while chasing a frog and fell into a pond. It was too deep for your small frame, and almost drowned, but you were rescued in time by a servant. Of course, you were severely scolded by the adults for straying from them, making them worry, and putting yourself in danger. But he held you just like this and showed relief that you were safe. 

He took a deep breath. "I know I haven't been the best father for you, but I did what I could to make up for what I've done to you. I gave you everything so you would be happy to be my daughter!"

He cupped your face and gently caressed your cheek with his thumb and smiled sadly. You saw a glimpse of remorse in his eyes, and for a moment you considered forgiving him. But as soon as he saw your angry brow soften, your father made the mistake of running off his mouth and reminding you why you chose to leave. 

"Let us forget about this madness, so you can start anew with Count Shouto, my dear. "

You pulled away from him and raised your arm to scratch him. It was frustrating to think he took advantage of the little remnants of compassion you still held for him and almost fooled you into sabotaging him from enacting justice. 

His punishment came from above in the shape of your furious lover in jaguar form. "NEVER!!!"

"Katsuki!"

You yelled his name in surprise, but you remained frozen and out of his way. Katsuki didn't expect Jutoku to be strong enough to put up a prolonged fight against him, or to stay alive as he bit into his skull. But the old bastard was quite stubborn, and still expected you'd be on his side if he screamed your name loud enough. 

You should've cried and covered your eyes to spare yourself from watching Katsuki rip through your father's flesh with his claws and fangs. Hearing his bloodcurdling screams for help should've disturbed you. You should've begged Katsuki to stop as soon as he landed the first blow.

But you didn't fo any of that, nor wished to.

You were looking on with dilated pupils and morbid interest. It was the first time you watched your mate kill his prey, and it was an exhilarating experience that had you shivering with arousal.

Unconsciously, you slowly ran your tongue over your lips. Just then, your father understood that you didn't intend to come to his aid. 

Making use of his last remaining strength, he reached down for the pistol he kept on his pants and your eyes widened in horror, and Katsuki also stilled for a split second when he heard the click of a fire weapon and felt cold steel press under his chin. 

------------------------------------

When the sound of a gunshot echoing through the silence of the night, your mother forgo her prayers and rushed to fetch her jewelry and escape the grim fate she knew awaited her. 

Yaeko L/N had also married for convenience, and had hoped for a harmonious marriage based on common interests and amiable teamwork. She expected to live comfortably, perpetuate her husband's family name, and have a dignified passing. 

But she didn't achieve any of those things, except to hope to have a peaceful death. For that reason, she needed to start a new life elsewhere. She wasn't ready to pass away just yet. 

As she hurried down the corridors and rushed to the door, a fierce gust of wind blew out all the candles in the house. She had a perfect view of the ominous red gleam of the lunar eclipse happening outside. The moon was also red when her dreams of a peaceful household turned into a nightmare. 

She felt dread in her gut when she spotted a pair of carmine eyes glaring at her in the darkness. Something round and heavy was thrown in her direction, barely able to dodge it. Under the faint light, Yaeko could distinguish the bloody head of her husband at her feet, an expression of utter horror frozen in his face. 

Your mother couldn't even scream when she was grabbed by the throat, and her sight adjusted just enough to realize it was Katsuki the one keeping her at his mercy. 

That is, if he had any. 

"Where the fuck do you think you're going?" his hand tightened and cut her breath, only loosening a bit when she gasped in despair. "You can't run away from me anymore. But you knew that when we met, didn't ya?" 

Of course she knew. There was no way Yaeko could forget the sight of that ash blonde hair and crimson eyes in Katsuki's mother twenty years ago. She couldn't bear looking at him without being reminded of her sin; and when she begged her husband to get rid of him, he couldn't bear killing another human soul, especially a child. Therefore, they took him in, in the hopes that he'd forgive them. But it was clear that he wasn't appeased. 

"Please! I'll give you everything I have but let me go!" She offered him with trembling hands the pouch that had her jewels. 

Katsuki scoffed and harshly swat the bag, spilling its precious content. "I dont want your fucking money. Did my mother have to beg you for her life too?"

"Please give her back... My baby..."

There was no way she could forget the sight of that woman bleeding out and using her last breath to implore her to return her newborn baby to her. 

"My parents had an amazing gift and longed for a peaceful existence, so they lived apart from a world that was hostile to them," Katsuki elaborated. "Until your selfishness violated the paradise they had built for themselves."

Yaeko didn't know what drove her that fateful night to leave her bed only hours after giving birth to a stillborn boy. Perhaps it was the grief of the three miscarriages she had in the past; the shock of being told that another pregnancy could kill her, or the fear of being scorned by her husband and losing her status as a great lady. 

She was trembling in Katsuki's grip, but wasn't hysterical anymore. His eyes were terrifying to look at, but they put her in some sort of trance that made it easier to expose herself to him. 

"My husband needed an heir, and my womb was too wretched to carry life," her eyes brimmed with tears. "Our baby died as soon as he entered this world. And then..."

"You replaced him with Y/N." Katsuki finished her sentence. 

"...Yes."

In her mindless wandering, she reached the forest and stumbled upon an almost nude woman that was sound asleep and curled around the most beautiful baby she had ever seen. Yaeko's heart was filled with contentment because she couldn't believe her luck as she picked you up from the ground and felt your warmth. 

Her eyes softened at the memory of holding you for the first time. "I thought the heavens had decided to bless me with the sweetest baby in the world..."

"You snatched her from my mother's arms!"

Katsuki threw Yaeko over the tea table as if she were a rag doll, and she cut her hand and cheek with a broken vase she knocked over. She cried out in pain and tried to crawl away, but he showed her his sharp teeth and scratched her face so deeply, that it'd leave a very ugly scar. 

Not that she was going to worry about that for long.

While Yaeko wailed in pain and held her face, Katsuki clenched his teeth from imagining his mother must've cried just as fearful and desperate when she awakened from her nap and saw a woman take off with her child. She most likely shifted to her animal form to catch up to her, only to be fatally ambushed by Jutoku and his rifle. 

"I should take your heart out, but then your suffering wouldn't be as great!" 

Yaeko knew she deserved hell after she turned her back on Katsuki's mother and refused to help her as she bled out after being taken down by her husband. Her dying pleas to get her baby back fell on deaf ears, but they forever haunted her in dreams and worsened her anxiety issues. 

Katsuki himself was just a toddler, but his mother's loss affected him greatly, and he could remember his father's anguished cries after he rushed to her aid, only to find his mate dead and his newborn gone. 

Those blows turned his father into a broken man, and he would have died if not for Katsuki, who still needed him. Masaru was a loving and dedicated father and taught his son the ways of their kind. He refused to exact revenge on the L/Ns, and only wanted to retrieve his daughter without further bloodshed. 

When Masaru and Katsuki had an argument over it, the latter stormed off, saying he didn't want to have a weak-willed father. He came to regret it when he found himself alone for the first time, not realizing Masaru had been held prisoner after trying to recover you. Katsuki lived with that guilt and loneliness until he met you for the first time in years, ever since you were born, and he chose you as his mate. 

It was infuriating to follow his father's instructions and pretend they didn't know each other. 

"Y/N was brought up in an honorable and rich family...!" Yaeko tried to reason with Katsuki, but he wasn't having any of her excuses. 

"I am her family!!!" 

Her dress was torn to shreds and Katsuki inflicted more wounds that weren't fatal, but were deep and painful. It was pure torture, and there wasn't anyone around who could help her. 

He grabbed her by the chin and coldly whispered in her ear. "You never loved her. She was just someone you could use for your own purposes."

"I tried to love her, I truly did," she sobbed, acknowledging that it was no use to keep denying his accusations. "But she was..."

Although you weren't the son they longed for, you were an uncommonly pretty baby, and your adoptive parents were at first delighted with you. But no wet-nurse would last because they all complained you rapaciously sucked the life out of them.

As a toddler, you were an unruly child, and attacked with your nails and small teeth the face and eyes of your nanny and servants when you threw a tantrum. But it was one afternoon when Yaeko was making a flower arrangement with roses, that she prickled a finger, and you readily licked the blood from her finger that she realized something was off with you 

She froze as you tried to suck more blood and nibbled on her finger without taking your eyes off her, as if challenging her to take the precious source of nourishment from you. 

A year later, Jutoku gifted her with a blue flycatcher as a birthday present. Yaeko was delighted with it, and so were you. But your fascination with the little bird was because your hunting instincts were arising, and Yaeko realized it when she found you holding its carcass between your hands as you munched on its head. 

In her eyes, you were a monster.

"You forced her to suppress her guardian spirit and live a lie!" Katsuki's eyes gleamed with bloodlust and his claws grew even bigger. "You almost fucking killed her!"

He bared his teeth to rip Yaeko's throat and allow her to bleed out in a degrading manner, knowing how much it'd mortify her to have an undignified death. But your soft palm on his shoulder stopped him in his tracks, and Katsuki remembered this wasn't all about him.

Until now, you were hiding in the darkness and listening to the whole exchange in silence because Katsuki had told you that he would make you see the truth. But you had already figured it out by yourself while you sank your fangs on your adoptive father's throat when he was about to blow up Katsuki's brains.

Transforming into a jaguar and finding pleasure in gutting him alive wasn't something that you planned to do. It simply happened on its own, and you accepted it with delight. Before Jutoku could call you his daughter once more, Katsuki bit his skull to silence him forever.

Now, with your clothes reduced to bloody rags, tearful eyes, and your lips crimson red, you stood before your kidnapper, who had the audacity to consider herself to be your mother. It made sense now why she was so intransigent and suffocating when you broke her rules; why you always felt out of place, and why it was so easy for her to disregard your feelings when you expressed unhappiness. Yaeko was keeping your other half in check, so it would never emerge and expose her lie and endanger everything she valued most. 

There was anger, disappointment, and betrayal in your glare. But unlike Katsuki, whose fury was passionate and spread quickly like wildfire, yours was cold and terrifying, threatening Yaeko to fulminate her when she least expected it. 

Yaeko's whimpers had stopped now, but her eyes were still wet. She didn't know if your belated reaction was because you were considering forgiving her, or because you were thinking about how to prolong her suffering. "Y/N, I..."

You licked the blood from your lips and leaned closer to Yaeko so she could listen to you clearly without having to raise your voice. It was like in the days you used to look down and listen while she contemplated you with a hardened gaze and addressed you with an authoritarian voice. But now Yaeko was the one cowering at your feet while you delivered your judgement on her.

"You did a most horrible and cruel act towards someone whose only crime was to lack a formal name and habitate your land," you soberly remarked. "I must give you credit for keeping me safe, dressed, and well fed under your care. But from now on, I'll live with Katsuki in the forest, and raise our child where there is no evil or lies. You will be an afterthought at most, but I'll never miss you."

"Of course, darling. You can do as you wish." Yaeko nodded, knowing her ultimate fate was in your hands. She could barely hide her disgust at having another thing like you living in her house. 

"Are you still hungry? She has a delectable smell." Katsuki joked morbidly, enjoying her terrified expression way too much. 

"Please forgive me!" Yaeko cried and clung to your legs. "I may not have borne you, but I tried! I tried to be a good mother for you!"

"Don't worry about it anymore, Mama, I know that," you placed a hand over her shoulder and smirked, showing a row of sharp teeth. Your grasp suddenly became vicious and your claws dug into her flesh, making her scream again. Katsuki grinned to himself, stepping aside to let you have your fill. "But you were right about me not being able to stay still."

---------------------------------------

Shouto had never felt so anxious when traveling on the railroad, the fastest and most advanced transportation method known to men. In his humble opinion, it was more like riding a turtle.

His brother Natsuo, with whom he secretly kept in touch after his elopement and who accompanied him, joked he was just anxious because he was going to pick up the woman of his dreams. In order to avoid stirring a fuss with his brother's future in-laws, Natsuo decided to stay at an inn until Shouto returned with you. 

As the carriage approached the L/N estate, the coachman apprehensively pointed out the moon had changed its color to scarlet.

It was the first time Shouto had the opportunity to see a red moon, and it was quite a fascinating sight. But if the numerous legends and superstitions his servants had told him as a child were true, that blood moon was an ominous sign, and he hoped they were just spooking him for amusement, and you were alright. 

He strongly opposed his father's remarriage to you and chose not to attend the wedding. Shouto couldn't sleep numerous times when he heard his father beating or raping his mother at night, and during the day it was sickening to watch how he pretended to be a good person while his household was hell itself because of him. 

Shouto attempted to be the one to marry you instead, and keep you safe from Enji. But your parents preferred his father simply because he was the quickest way your family name could attain a higher status, even if that meant giving their only daughter away to a depraved old man. It was truly infuriating.

At that moment, he regretted giving up on you thinking you would be allowed to be happy with Katsuki. He should have never given anyone else the privilege of making you happy. Shouto believed Katsuki was going to fight tooth and nail to elope with you away from this madness, but perhaps he judged him wrong. 

Once he arrived at his destination and found the L/N estate in absolute silence, Shouto knew something was off. It was as if the place had been put under a spell that had frozen it in time. He surmised everyone was in bed, but still, a group of servants and your father were supposed to welcome him. 

Instead, Katsuki and you were the ones to meet him at the entrance as you chatted animatedly. But Shouto wasn't left speechless at your nudity and lack of shame. Actually, you proudly exhibited your body as the piece of living art it was. 

Shouto would have said you never looked more beautiful, and admire the shape of your breasts, the motherly glow and softness of your skin, and how you were just as gorgeous as he pictured you in his mind at night when he longed to make love to you... were you not splattered with blood. 

"I heard what you did to that bastard Todoroki," Katsuki chuckled, biting the shell of your ear and wrapping his arm around your waist. "That's now how I taught you to kill your prey,"

"I enjoyed it way too much, and our baby needed nourishment."  

"Disgusting. Are you always going to be a messy little brat?" 

Both of you laughed softly, but stopped when you saw Shouto just a few meters away from you. Unlike previous encounters, Katsuki remained calm and open to allow you to exchange parting words with the one person besides himself that didn't show any malice towards you.

Shouto opened his mouth to try to persuade you into leaving with him... "Y/N, I---"

...But you weren't having any of it, wanting to preserve the sanctity of your friendship. "Goodbye, Shouto." 

He was heartbroken, but once again, respected your wishes and nodded with a wistful smile. He could only watch as you happily held Katsuki's hand, and walked off with him, holding loving glances. When he blinked, the pair of you were gone, and instead saw a jaguar couple getting forever lost in the woods.

Taglist: @ofallthingsnasty @ajaviary @riotsragdoll @spn-obession

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

The Cult Girl (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 3

So I picked option 2 cause I just had more ideas around it. I could probably still do 1 and 3 sometime but this is the direction we're going now. Y/n gets a call from her horrible grandmother who is expecting a visit.

Trigger warning: discussions of emotional and mental abuse, gaslighting

That night at his dining table was the start of something wonderful. You made a point to apply a bit of perfume to your neck before you left your apartment. Your three slightly judgmental but overall supportive roommates even donated a few drops of their own fragrances from time to time. 

You didn’t like the sound of the sentence “Hannibal is my boyfriend”. It just didn’t hit your ear right. ‘Boyfriend’ was too childish of a title for him. By extension, he found something very diminutive about referring to you as his girlfriend. You were, of course, a grown woman. He remedied this right away, resigning to call you his ‘darling’. You, however, had to use ‘partner’ as a placeholder until a more suitable pet name presented itself. Although the titles were never stated outright, after a while, you knew it was more than just a passionate affair. Hannibal (and you were calling him Hannibal, now) saw potential in you. He nurtured you and had been since day one. 

Finally, things were starting to go your way. You were in classes you loved, had wonderful, supportive friends and a fulfilling relationship. It took over twenty years, but better late than never. 

But, if there was one thing you learned from your short stint as a student of physics, it was that what goes up must come down. Your long-awaited bliss was about to be tested by an equal and opposite force bearing the name “Beatrice [L/N]” on the caller ID. 

Not only did she call, but she called three times in the middle of your meal. And that was followed by multiple texts, several of which containing words like “emergency” in all caps. You were just trying to enjoy another one of Hannibal’s culinary works of art, but the old bitch was persistent. 

You apologetically excused yourself from the table and retreated to the office with your phone. 

Grandma, you had better be on your fucking deathbed. You thought to yourself before sliding the green answer icon across the screen.

“[F/N]!” Came her shrill voice. “You finally answered. I was beginning to worry.” 

“What do you want, grandma?” You groan. 

“I wanted to ask you what you were wearing to Anna’s wedding next weekend.” She explained, calmly as ever. “The color scheme is seafoam and coral and she wants to make sure everyone adheres to it for pictures.” 

You covered the speaker with your hand and pulled your phone away from your ear so she couldn’t hear you bite back a scream. It physically pained you to return the phone to your ear. “Yeah, I RSVPed no to Anna’s wedding.”

“[F/N],” Your grandmother said in that scolding tone you knew all too well. “Your cousin expects you to be there. I expect you to be there. I invested so much money into this wedding, I will take it as a personal affront if you don’t attend.” 

You take everything as a personal affront. You thought.  

“It doesn’t matter, I already said no. She’s not going to have a chair or food for me.” You explained, hoping that you found some way out of this conversation. 

“No, she will.” Your grandma corrected. “I won’t have any child of mine absent from another’s wedding. I put in all the work to pull this event together.” 

For a moment, you almost felt bad for Anna. Having to endure your grandmother’s micromanaging was a circle of hell even Dante refused to tread.

"Of course, heaven forbid someone in your life show an ounce of autonomy." You finally snapped.

"I don't know why you're acting so rude, but it stops now." Grandma ordered. "I raised you as my own daughter. You should be more grateful for the luxuries I can extend to you. I didn't have to take you in, you know..."

It pained you to stay quiet when all you wanted to say was "I wish you hadn't".

"Your emotional manipulation isn't going to work on me anymore." You informed her.

“So, naturally, I’ve seen to it that you are expected." She continued her own conversation without even acknowledging yours. "You and a plus one, of course.”

You hadn’t even considered the possibility of attending the wedding with Hannibal. The two points never once intersected. And they never would. You vowed that Hannibal would never meet your grandmother or cousins. At that moment, that was the hill you were willing to die on. 

“If I come at all, I’m coming alone.” You snap. “You can punish me all you want but I am not letting you get him involved.” 

“Him?” Your grandma repeated. “So there is someone?” 

“Someone you are keeping me from.” You said, thoroughly frustrated and now panicked at the idea that your grandmother knew Hannibal existed. “Goodbye.” 

You didn't want to rejoin Hannibal in such a sour mood, but you didn't want to keep him waiting either. You returned even more apologetically than you left and took your seat.

"Everything alright, love?" He asked. You could tell he was raring to psychoanalyze you.

You shook your head. "It was my grandma."

"I could tell that much." He admitted, beginning to cut into his steak. "What with all the frustration you're trying so desperately to hide. What did she want?"

"She called to tell me she expects me at my cousin's wedding next Saturday." You rolled your eyes. "I'd already declined the invitation, but she didn't like that, apparently."

"Which cousin is this?" He probed. "The one that works as an engineer for Halliburton?

"No, that's Theresa." You shook your head. "And she works for Halliburton, but she's not an engineer. She's a PR executive."

"Right." Hannibal nodded, taking a bite of steak between his teeth. "She took after your grandmother and turned gaslighting into a career."

You smiled a bit. "Right."

"So, it's Anna, then?" He concluded. "You haven't told me much about her. Perhaps she is the benign tumor of the family?"

"More or less." You shrugged. "She works at a publishing agency. Only got the job because her boyfriend's uncle's the CFO. She didn't even make it to the interview. It was pure nepotism."

"And now she's marrying the boyfriend, I presume?"

"Yeah." You felt a grin cross your face thinking about what you were going to say next. "She wasn't even dating him at the time. She was dating someone else and cheating on him with the guy she's marrying now."

Hannibal grinned. "You like knowing this? Having information that could potentially ruin her life?"

You knew there was no use in lying. The look on your face said it all. "Absolutely I do. When you're the black sheep of the family, you've gotta take power where you can get it. Mine just so happens to be potential blackmail."

"I'm quite delighted to be privy to this side of you, love." He smiled. "We're a bit vindictive, now are we?"

"Are you kidding?" You snicker. "These are the girls that psychologically tormented me growing up. Of course I'm vindictive."

"So about this wedding." He didn't look up from his plate. "Do they expect you to bring a date?"

"They do." You nod, your eyes wandering off. "But I can't let them meet you. They're just so unspeakably rude all the time."

For some reason, you felt that this didn't deter him. Perhaps it even compelled him a little. "Oh?"

"They take this really strange pride in making scenes everywhere they go." You explained. "They've already ruined so much of my life. I can't even give them the opportunity to ruin this too."

"Darling," Hannibal leaned in. "Is there a part of you that wants to attend this event?"

You held your tongue before you said anything you both know to be untrue. "...maybe a small part."

"That small part of you that wants power. That wants justice." He nodded. "Indulge it for a moment. What does this wedding look like to you?"

Trying to keep up the illusion that you hadn't thought of this before, you paused for a moment. "...we would show up--you and I--and I'd be wearing a stunning gown that doesn't fit the stupid color scheme at all. And there's just an unspoken knowledge that I could absolutely ruin Anna's entire day. Anna and Theresa and Grandma are all being nice to me because if I so much as mention the name of that boyfriend she cheated on, I'd ruin her life and possibly her career. So finally I hold all the cards."

Hannibal looked proud. He took a sip of his wine. "You want to be powerful, but with just enough restraint so they know you're the bigger person."

"Exactly." You agreed.

"Perhaps my fondness for you is clouding my professional judgment, darling." He put his wine glass down. "The thought of you in an evening gown, commanding attention and reverence... that's just something I have to see."

"...something you have to see?" You met eyes with him, realizing you were on the same page.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket again. This time, you didn't feel the need to step out.

"Hey [F/N], care to explain why my sister is crying?" Theresa snapped through the receiver.

"Is someone cutting onions nearby?" You offered. "That usually makes me tear up."

"Fucking hell, for once in your meaningless life can you care about someone other than yourself?!" Theresa yelled. "Grandma told us you're not coming to the wedding."

You looked back at Hannibal, who gave you a nod. "Actually, I am. We are."

[blkgojo]

Game On | Chapter 1

Valkyrie x Reader x Carol Danvers

In which, drunk!you thinks sending nudes to the King of Asgard and the most powerful Avenger... is a good idea.

Warnings: None

Here's the thing. Sending Valkyrie your nudes was an accident. Legally speaking, the nudes were meant for Carol. If you wanted to get even more technical, you weren't even supposed to text either one of them unless there was an emergency. You hadn't realized it at first. You curled up next to your cat, practically smug with your boldness. What better way to show you're available, you thought. You had checked your phone again to revel in it only to see the photo had not only been sent to Carol. It was there, right under Valkyrie's name. Wish you were here x.

You were well and truly fucked.

Working as a S.W.O.R.D agent meant few privileges. One of those privileges you had abused. Greatly. You had sent lewd photos to not only an Avenger, but the King of Asgard. Strong 10000 year old alcohol be damned, Fury wouldn't accept that as an excuse.

"You gonna tell me what's up or we just gonna sit here?" Darcy asked. Your roommate munched absentmindedly on a piece of chocolate. She was blessed enough to not have drank the ale. The buzz of it still causing your world to sway even as you began to sober up.

"I sent nudes to someone,” you whined.

She smiled. Patted your thigh. “That's okay, Y/N. We all send nudes sometimes."

“No you don’t get it. I sent them to the Asgardian king.”

“Thor has a phone?”

“No. Valkyrie.”

You can see she's trying her best not to laugh.

“It’s not funny.”

“You’re gonna start an intergalactic war.”

“Fuck off.”

“Fury’s gonna be pissed.”

“Don’t tell him!” Your words dissolved into drunken hiccups. You sloppily tried to take another sip of the ale, but Darcy snatched it. You frowned. “Do you… do you think she read it?”

“She doesn’t have read receipts? An IPhone?”

“No, I think she has an Android.”

Darcy  quietly tittered, mulling the information over. “Who did you even mean to send nudes to?”

"Don't freak out.”

“Y/N.”

“Say you won’t freak out.”

“Just tell me!”

“Darcy!”

“Spit it out!”

“Captain Marvel,” you hesitantly answered. 

Darcy shrugged. “Well, at least you didn’t send it to her, too.”

“No I did.”

One.

Two.

She laughed. "I'm sorry," she said between breathes. "I'm sorry. This is just... you're fucked."

To her credit, she tried to stop laughing. It doesn't work, but she tried. A few minutes past before she finally can speak again - tears having long since stained her face. She wiped them and took a deep breathe.

"You could just text them something like, 'Oh my god. I'm so sorry. This wasn't meant for you," she offered.

"I could." You nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I could do that."

You picked up your phone, ready to send another message. In your hands, it vibrated.

​---

Carol hated texting. Sometimes, she thought maybe that was why her and Thor were so close. She was traveling the galaxy. He was traveling the galaxy. She hated texting. He didn’t have a phone. She preferred communication the old fashion way like through hologram or sheer word of mouth.

She checked her phone as soon as she received the message and now it was waiting on the countertop of the bar face down.

“If someone sent me a picture, I would’ve been all over that,” Rocket burped.

“That’s not what she needs to hear right now, Rocket,” Thor turned to her. “So what are we doing here? Are you going to respond or…”

“I responded,” she said. And she had.

She said word for word, ‘Oh is this an emergency?’

You had sent the photos when she was on some off time with Thor. They all had just gotten back from a mission liberating refugees from a wannabe empire. She had been ready to dash back to Earth when she saw your name light up her phone screen. When she opened the message… completely different story.

Thor scrunched up his nose and shrugged.

“What?” asked Carol.

“If I sent promiscuous photos to a potential love interest, I would want a bit more…” He gestured to the air.

Carol scrunched her brows. “You would want what?”

“I don’t know. Romance?”

Rocket slammed his beer on the table. “Send them a tongue emoji.”

“I don’t like texting. Why couldn’t they just,” she threw up her hands. “I don’t know. Send a hologram.”

“Look. Forget everything else. Do you wanna get laid or not?” demanded Rocket.

Carol cocked her head to the side and begrudgingly nodded. “Then stop dicking around. It’s annoying. Some of us haven’t got laid in years and you’re over here squandering your opportunities.”

“So what? I travel a billion light years away for sex?”

Before Thor can interject, Rocket growled. “You can breathe in space. Going to Earth for you is like me or Thor here going to the bathroom.”

Carol sighed. “The raccoon has a point.”

“Fuck you.”

----

“C’mon Valkyrie. Just once.”

“I will not play Fortnite with you.”

Korg frowned or she assumed he did. It was always hard to tell. “But-”

“No.”

Her phone had long since vibrated in her pocket. A fact that she had chosen to ignore. The Midgardians seemed to always have issues. Even on Sundays which were supposed to be her self-care days. She picked it up, ready to see some frantic message about one crisis or another. The sky is falling. Nuclear weapons. Blah blah blah.

“Oh.” She nearly dropped it.

“What is it?” Korg peered over her shoulder. “It seems like someone sent you a gift.”

There were two photos with the caption ‘wish you were here x’. It was simple enough. Valkyrie tried to remember the last conversation she had with you. Had you been flirting? It was last Tuesday when she had been discussing global affairs with the other world leaders. You had been there, but in between all of the political nonsense, it was hard to figure it all out.

Korg was still peering over her shoulder. Valkyrie quirked her brow at him.

“Sorry.” He went back to his game. “Are you going to respond to Y/N? I like them. Gave me some good rocks once.”

“Rocks?”

“Yeah, I think they thought I eat them. Not their fault. My mum’s boyfriend used to think the same thing. I use them to decorate me flower garden, though.”

Valkyrie nodded and took a sip of her beer. “Should I respond?”

“You should do what your heart tells you.” He sighed. “Sorry. I’ve been watching a lot of them Disney movies. Have you seen the one with the girl on the islands?”

“No, I don’t think I’ve seen that one.”

“It’s good. She sings.”

Valkyrie took another swig of her beer, typing out a response to your photos.

‘This is way better than what I was expecting.’ And waited.

----

"She's annoying."

"I mean, she is right."

"Seriously?"

"What?" Darcy hesitantly took a sip of Thor's alcohol. "I think it's a valid question. Is it an emergency?"

"It is," you half-questioned.

"Is it?"

"It is," you said with more force.

"Then, say that," Darcy took another sip. "This shit really hits you. I get why..." She burped.

Right after you hit send, another message came through. Valkyrie.

"Well," you begin. "Valkyrie appreciated it."

"Of course she did." When you stared at her, Darcy shrugged. "She seems like really chill. Stared at your ass in one of our meetings."

"She did? When?"

"I don't know. It was like, so far ago."

"She said it was way better than what she was expecting."

"So, she wants you."

"Yeah," you said slowly. The King of Asgard wanted you. Wanted more of you. You reread the message. "I'm gonna flirt back."

Darcy nodded, taking another small sip of the ale.

I guess I should've done this sooner, you texted back.

Her response was immediate.  We’ll have to make up for lost time.

"Valkyrie's so hot," you whispered.

Just then, Carol responded. And what would you like me to do about this emergency?

You walked over to the counter and grabbed the bottle, taking a tiny sip of the alcohol. Just enough to give you a boost of confidence. You spared a glance at your friend. Her alcohol tolerance was higher than yours and yet, her cheeks were already pink. She nodded at the bottle, her eyebrows raised slightly.

"You look ah, flustered."

"You look drunk."

She held one finger up, wobbly walked herself to the couch. "Touche."

There was no reason you couldn't have fun, right? They didn't know that you had texted them both. No one knew save for Darcy and she could keep a secret. You could have fun with this. They both wanted you - honestly, you should take advantage of this opportunity. What was that phrase people loved saying? Live life or whatever the fuck.

"Yeah," Darcy cheered.

You hadn't realized you'd been talking out loud.

To Valkyrie, you send: When can we get started?

You took a deep breathe before texting Carol. Your fingers hovered over the send button for minutes longer than necessary.

I'd like you to fuck me, you sent back.

Game on.

[ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff]

Begrudging Allies (Aaron Hotchner x Trans!Male!Reader)

Summary: Aaron and Y/N's marriage is suitable enough, given that Aaron secretly loves men and Y/N secretly is a man. When the one year anniversary of their amicable nuptials brings forth correspondence from their estranged families, Aaron takes the opportunity to potentially make something more out of their arrangement.

AN: This is one of my entries to the "Enemies 2 Lovers" challenge set by @imagining-in-the-margins​ on Tumblr!

Reader is trans male and uses he/him pronouns. 

WC: 2.4k words

Content Warning: References to era appropriate homophobia/transphobia but nothing actually mentioned. Two dumb fucking gay men trying to flirt.

Photo Credit // Masterlist // AO3

Your name: submit What is this?

Aaron Hotchner and Y/N L/N were served breakfast together every day they were in the house together. They sat not at opposite ends, but the seat left adjacent to them. That way, they did not have to look at each other whilst they ate. Breakfast was the only meal with which they shared each other’s company. Why make it unbearable first thing in the morning? They read the morning paper - and any post - while eating. Only the scrape of their plates and muted chewing was to be heard before the chairs scraped across the floorboards and both men departed.

Today they both received a note from the L/N household back in their old country.

“I assume your letter reads the same as mine,” Y/N dropped his beside his plate before pushing it further away.

Hotchner raised his eye from the headline that had been mildly entertaining him, “It does.”

In cursive flicks, the usual complaints of their emigration had reached his eyes not moments prior. The closing of his family’s letter however broached a new request: a photograph of the happy couple on their first wedding anniversary, specifically a recreation. The ungrateful bunch, the only remaining wedding photographs of the wedding were in their hands.

“I don’t have the dress,” Y/N scoffed and looked aside. Even from this end of the table, Aaron could see that he was trying to mask his tears from the dawn. The wedding day was the culmination of their greatest shames.

At least Aaron had tried to make the best of it, but there was no relief for Y/N until they were in their separate chambers and free from all betrothment attire.

“Suppose we should arrange for a fitting. Though how we’re going to do that without arousing any suspicion here is beyond me.” “Perhaps we can go north, find a seamstress and a wigmaker there.”

Aaron did not patronise Y/N by pretending he understood his plight. He himself had never pictured himself with a wife; worse was that Y/N had never pictured himself to be a wife.

“Wouldn’t it be easier to remain a woman?” He had said after Y/N had confessed during their third arranged rendezvous.

With venom spitting from each syllable, Y/N’s reply was one that he remembered vividly: “I was never a woman to start with.”

They were not friends, they barely spoke, but the enemy of the enemy is a friend. This sentiment made Y/N a begrudging ally.

However it did not make the occasions they had to pretend to be a happily wedded couple any simpler. Y/N did look most becoming in white, but Aaron knew that there was no worse day for Y/N than that day in the church. Any reminder was like a stake through the heart.

“I’ll arrange for the fitting,” Aaron quietly volunteered.

Y/N was quick with a brusque reply, “I can organise my own affairs.”

“Of course, but perhaps it would lighten your load if I took on those responsibilities.” Aaron paused as Y/N pushed aside his breakfast plate, his eggs now making his stomach turn. He used his newspaper as a shield, “And as your husband, I give you permission to dress how you please.”

Y/N blinked then nodded. He did not ever say thank you. That was his problem, Y/N, too proud. Too nervous to admit that he had been graciously allowed to exist like this because of his marriage to Aaron. As if that was ever any part of their agreement, both of them had blackmail worthy material. Y/N just seemed to forget that, or at least he was not the type of individual to dangle Aaron’s secrets before him like a carrot on a stick. Why Y/N thought that Aaron was that type though, he had some idea.

“A member of the bar?” was the response Aaron got from Y/N, disgust thinly veiled, upon their first chaperoned walk through the L/N estate. It must have seemed contradictory later down the line, to be a protector of the laws that criminalised his very own existence. It was not as uncommon as Y/N believed however, and there were much worse laws to break between trials than being attracted to men.

A man of his word, Aaron prepared for a fitting in the comfort of their own home. A friend of theirs was a tailor; accommodations were no economic issue. Of course, this friend did not know either of their secrets, but other than that, he was a companion who would be greeted warmly into their home.

Y/N watched the tailor from the chaise whilst pretending to be interested in a book. His eye would raise itself to see each adjustment made to Aaron’s wedding suit, which he had surprisingly kept – folded in a box at the farthest corner of the house. Then Y/N would go back to the page and reread the top few lines. Every time, Aaron would pretend not to notice. But the jiggle of Y/N’s knee, the absence of progression through the book’s narrative, taught him that Y/N was anticipating this fitting with something more positive than last time.

“All done, thank you, Aaron!” “Y/N, your turn.”

His book snapped shut and Y/N stepped up to the podium. Aaron swapped places with him without acting out the role of an aloof reader. As expected his expression was well disguised as neutral, but Aaron’s practice in law gifted him with a pair of spectacles into the soul. Y/N’s glee of the tape measure taking in his proportions was masked so that only his eyes smiled. Once or twice, the corner of his mouth ticked up, only to iron its creases out when the tailor moved into his eyeline. When asked what colour he would consider, Y/N mulled deliciously his options before selecting a gentle blue. His fingers were cautious but as soon as they touched the royal fabric offered, they fanned out and welcomed it for his new suit.

From the moment they broke apart, his hands were restless. Ticking against his teacup or tapping against his legs were two of their new favourite hobbies. Even when the suit arrived, Y/N could not keep himself still. His beautiful face was scrunched up in the mirror as he attempted for a third time to make the right knot in his cravat. The photographer was waiting for them downstairs.

Aaron sighed and knocked one knuckle to the door, “Allow me.”

Y/N rolled his eyes, “I can do it myself.”

“I know. But this knot will look better.”

Their eyes locked in the mirror, before Y/N turned around and released his tie. His chin pointed parallel to the carpet. His neck was still so as not to drop the breath he was holding. Aaron flicked with the tip of the cravat as his hands slotted it through, his focus on the column of Y/N’s throat, because meeting his gaze now was an impossible feat. They were too close for that. He bent the stalks of his collar into place then stepped back as if to admire his handiwork. But that was not at all what he really regarded.

He cleared his throat, “There.”

As Aaron removed his hands, Y/N spun to face his reflection head on. “Adequate. You’ll have to teach me that one.”

Finally, they greeted their photographer, who had set up his camera in their garden. It was a lovely day, not to be wasted inside. At least that’s what the photographer said as he unceremoniously ushered them into place and posed them to his liking. There was no instruction for how to position their faces so Aaron kept his the same as their original wedding portrait.

His plan for relaxed facial features hit a bump in the road. As the photographer ducked beneath his sheet, Y/N snorted. His hand was quick to follow and it clapped over his mouth. The photographer emerged with concerned curiosity. A strand of his combover was standing on end.

“My apologies, there was a tickle in my throat.” He pressed his lips together and ducked his head, his feet scuffing one inch’s worth of dirt before he regained composure.

The photographer tried again. Aaron could see, in the corner of his eye, that Y/N’s corners of his mouth weighed down to prevent a break but it was unsuccessful.

“Do forgive me,” He said, his voice quivering, “I remembered a jest from last week. It isn’t even worth the laughter it brings.”

Despite his detractions, Y/N kept guffawing to himself as the photographer kept dodging about his cloth and camera. It spilled from between his pressed lips like an overflowing goblet. Aaron had not heard such delight before. He would describe it as infectious if the joy in Y/N’s notes was comparable to a plague. No, this was intoxicating, a mead he would heartily drink until he too was giddy on the stuff. Y/N, clutching Aaron’s arm to stay standing, almost stumbled as Aaron bent over with equally bashful laughter.

“It would possibly suit you better if you sat,” said the photographer through a faux smile. He then ushered over to one of the benches, the one amidst the tulips, before he wrangled with his camera after them.

Seated on the cool marble, Aaron kept a few inches between himself and Y/N. Their hands took that space but waited to hold hands. Y/N was still shaking but his smile was minute now, replaced by mild embarrassment.

“It wasn’t that funny,” He said. But there was a twitch in his voice, a breath that indicated otherwise.

“No, not at all,” whispered Aaron, his head tilted against the invisible line between them.

Y/N turned, his nose pushing their boundary and almost brushing against Aaron’s cheek when he too turned to face him.

“At long last, we agree.”

Y/N’s lips betrayed him again. A bubble of laughter popped between them, letting out the smallest of smiles. Yet it shone through with such luminosity that it almost outdid the flash of the bulb as their photograph was taken. There was delight at the absence of the melancholy pose that a long exposure wedding portrait promised. Oh, the wonders of new technology.

As was with his new suit, Y/N practically waited by the door for the photographs. His hands were beyond ravenous for them by the time they arrived. They snatched at the envelope and tore with as much care as he could muster, his voice catching in the roof of his mouth as he called for Aaron.

On the chaise together, their knees were brought in close to rest the papers upon. Their faces looked as though they were carved into the paper with charcoal, smudged by an artist’s thumb. That radiant smile among it all was the centre of the photograph. Aaron noted the distance between them was mirrored in their past selves as they sifted through their options.

Then Y/N held aloft the ones for their respective families, “Sit with me while I pen the reply.”

Aaron was not usually welcome in Y/N’s study. Yet, as he pulled up a walnut wood chair with red velvet seat beside the bureau, behind Y/N’s matching one, he felt like he was in place. With anticipation, he watched the most passive aggressive comments that had ever been put to paper. All bar one was spun from Y/N’s inspiration. Aaron had but one to add and it took some convincing for Y/N to put it in his family’s correspondence – he was writing since his writing was far neater. Even so, there were a few loops of the ‘l’s that slanted when Y/N was particularly amused by something that Aaron had commented on.

“There,” Y/N said as he closed the second of two envelopes with crimson wax. As he lifted the seal, he spoke quieter, “Just a thought, nothing more, but I almost wish I could see their faces. Only the first second though.” The seal was placed in his drawer and the letters were left in the centre of the desk while one remaining photograph was selected by Y/N, “I want to keep this. In the drawing room.”

Aaron’s eyebrows jumped up his forehead, “You do?”

Y/N nodded once with finality, his broad smile returning, “It’s the first time I was myself in a long time, the best I’ve ever looked! Besides, I am your husband and I say it will stand above the fireplace by the end of the week – once I find a suitable frame.”

He held it up, squinting to imagine what frame might work best with the décor. His chair itching to be closer, Hotch leant over and cupped his hand over Y/N’s so that he could see the photograph too. It stayed there, and perhaps it was his imagination, but Hotchner could have sworn that Y/N’s back slacked and swayed to the right an inch, almost resting against his shoulder beside Aaron’s.

Y/N’s quiet voice was back, “Thank you, Aaron.”

“You do not have to say thank you.”

“When are you going to stop telling me what to do?”

There was no accusation in it; it was asked as simply as one would ask for another napkin. But Aaron did not quite know how to answer.

“I don’t mean to come across as a drill sergeant,” He said softly.

“Aaron,” Y/N lowered their hands but kept them together beside his lap, “You don’t have to worry about me and what I’m going to do, just like I don’t have to worry about you.”

And what Aaron thought about being ignorant of an answer before, that became a lie. Aaron wanted to worry about Y/N, and he did worry. Not for himself or his identity being exposed, but because he did care for his husband. He didn’t want to worry or have Y/N be worried about control in their home. They should exist as equals, not in blackmail but in respect. Maybe one day, in love.

Aaron settled instead for: “My apologies. And I thank you too. It was the first time I was myself as well.”

Y/N blinked, then avoided his stare. It was a revelation therefore when he laced his fingers with Aaron’s for the briefest of squeeze and replied, “No thanks necessary. It was my pleasure.”

Then the bell tinkled for breakfast and the two men were up on their feet. Y/N was in the dining room first. He sat two away from the head of the table this time. With enough care to drag his chair loudly across the floor, Aaron mirrored that seating, dragging his cutlery and crockery into place. As they were served, Y/N swiped the newspaper before his husband could with a smirk hidden behind the pages. Hotchner poured his coffee and smiled into the brew. He was, for once, thoroughly glad that they had breakfast together.

----> ----> ----> ----> ---->

Tagging

Aaron Hotchner fics: @averyhotchner​

[klave-fucktober]

Klave Fucktober Fest - Info Post

Hello Party People, the Hargreeves’ birthday is nigh and what’s a better present for our lovely Number Four (and us) than getting him and his main squeeze thoroughly wrecked? Without further ado...

Welcome to Fucktober! A prompt fest dedicated to creating mature fanworks for The Umbrella Academy pairing of Klaus Hargreeves/Dave Katz.

Details under the cut…

Cool! So, who is it that’s hiding behind the curtain?

Your fest runners for this event are CriseCardiac (@thistlemoth) and Teddy  (@yeah-klave), just a couple of friendly neighborhood smut enthusiasts dying for some content in these dark, dark interseasonal times. Any questions, you can find us on tumblr or, more often than not, hanging out in Elliott’s House.

Okay, how does this work?

You can submit a prompt here from now until September 17th. The submitted prompts will be posted on September 19th, on which day claiming will open and participants can begin working on their submission(s). Multiple claims are allowed on prompts, and you can claim as many as you want. Collabs are great! We don’t want to be restrictive – the idea of this fest is to encourage as much smutty Klave creation as possible: we want ALL THE SMUT.

Once you have completed your work, you can either: (1) add it to the AO3 Klave-Fucktober Collection - “Klave Fucktober 2021″; and/or (2) submit it to the Klave-Fucktober tumblr page. The AO3 Collection will go live on 30 October and any works submitted to the tumblr page will also be posted at intermittent times throughout the day on the 30th October, and, depending on the number of entries, the following days.

Alternatively, you can post your work to your own tumblr, however, if you’re doing this, we ask that you don’t post your work until 30 October, please. If you’re posting to your own tumblr, please remember to tag your work #fucktober. Also, if you tag either @klave-fucktober, @thistlemoth or @yeah-klave, one of us will reblog on the official fucktober tumblr page.

Please note, if you are creating nsfw art, you must adhere to the rules of the site you are posting your work to.

What can I prompt?

It’s a free-for-all baby! Want to see Klaus and Dave having sweet, sticky Saigon sex? Prompt it! Want to see them getting down and dirty in the jungle? Prompt it! Modern AU lazy Sunday morning lovemaking? Angsty, post-argument make-up fuck? Gender-swapped klave (i.e. our lovely Klesbians) princess/stable girl illicit love affair? Office co-workers enemies to lovers? Sex dungeon? Semi-public? Trans? Threesome? Moresome? Full on orgy? First time? Prompt it, prompt it, prompt it!!

So, in summary, as long as Klave is the main pairing and it involves some form of sex, you can prompt anything and everything. This could be as simple as a particular kink or you could submit a detailed scenario. Whatever you’ve been craving, this is your opportunity to get it out to potential nsfw Klave content creators.

Are there any exclusions?

No rape and no underage, please. And absolutely no kink-shaming.

Can I submit a prompt if I don’t plan to contribute?

Of course. As a prompt fest, there’s no commitment. Often the prompts are a gift in themselves. Your prompt may inspire something wonderful – so please, prompt away!

What can I create?

Anything you want, as long as your creation is in some way fucktastic! Write something, draw something, use those graphic-design-is-my-passion skills. Know some songs you think the boys would get down and dirty to? Make a playlist! All fannish talents are welcome and encouraged. We’re here for a fun, adult time together. Go wild.

As a note for fics: there are no word count restrictions. You can write a sexy bite-sized drabble or a slow burn epic where all that antici-- pation and build-up doesn’t come to a tingly, pulsating climax until chapter 10. Multichapter fics do not need to be completed within the fest window.

I’ve made a claim but I’m afraid I won’t finish my submission on time. What happens now?

No worries, it happens! Neither of us will run screaming after you in the night. Claiming is mostly to give us an idea of what to expect and allow your potential audience to get excited about what might be to come. Allowing multiple claims means you can be as ambitious as you want without preventing other submissions.

If you change your mind about a claim, decide to fill a different prompt instead, create something that hasn’t even been prompted, post only the first chapter, post later than the fest window – that’s all fine!

I’ve never created anything nsfw before – I’d like to participate but I’m nervous about the theme.

This is not an exclusive environment. We know there are many smut veterans out there who will be eager to participate in this event, but we also want to use this as an opportunity to encourage as many new participants to get involved as well! Whether you’re new to creating nsfw content for this pairing, or just new to creating nsfw content at all – we would LOVE for you to get involved!

There’s no getting around it, posting smut can be very daunting. Maybe you’ve always wanted to create something nsfw but have always felt too exposed or nervous to post it? Maybe you’ve created something in the past but have always thought it was not good enough or not sexy enough to share? To all you lovely people, we beckon you over, throw our arms wide and invite you to join the smut club.

Smut comes in all shapes and sizes and styles. Just like kinks. Just like people. Everyone has different tastes and preferences – there is no right or wrong way to create smut. What works for one person might not work for another, but that’s part of the fun of it!

So whatever your previous smut experience level, we would love for you to take part. And remember, if you’ve got any questions, concerns or you just need a little positive encouragement, you can always reach out to one of the event runners – we’re very friendly and we’re both smut-writers, so we’d be happy to chat with you. Feel free to drop us an ask or a DM.

Any warnings?

This is an open prompt fest, where just about anything goes, so please be aware of this when reading prompts and fills.

We ask our creators to tag all works accordingly, so nobody gets any nasty surprises, i.e. any potential triggers, unusual kinks or non-klave pairings (particularly any sibling ships). However, we caution everyone to read/view/participate at their own risk.

I am underage, can I participate?

Sorry, but no. This is a smut fest, 18+ only please.

The Timeline

Sept 4th -  Prompting begins

Sept 17th (noon PST/ 7pm UTC) - Prompting ends

Sept 19th (midnight PST/ 7am UTC) - Claiming opens

Oct 30th (Devil’s Night) - The revelry, I mean posting, starts!

[zevlors-tail]

Rooftops

Pairing: ProHero!Deku x Reader

Description: Sometimes being a Hero isn’t just fighting villains and rescuing people from burning buildings; sometimes it’s battling demons and rescuing people from themselves instead.

Warnings: Suicidal reader, thoughts of suicide, attempted suicide? (reader doesn’t succeed), trauma bonding, mentions of bullying, little bit of touch starvation? Talks of therapy, decision to try therapy.

A/N: I guess you could say I needed to vent some heavy things. PLEASE do not read this if you are triggered by anything mentioned above. Also, I HC that Midoriya never would have gone through with it, but he might have at one point been in the reader’s position, and I wish they would expand on how what Katsuki said and did to him in middle school affected his life more. I will never be satisfied until we get a proper apology from Bakugou and the two of them sort out their feelings about it, bc you KNOW that had to create some trauma. So I guess this might be sort of a fix-it fic? Also, I’m sorry for the ending, it might be cringe, idk. I can’t help but add fluff to everything I write, apparently. I love Best Boi, what can I say?

You breathed in the cool night air as you leaned against the railing, fingers trembling slightly against the rusty metal. Everything seemed so surreal; the noisy traffic below, the people bustling down streets and alleyways, the dimmed apartment lights from the building across... What did any of it matter? In the grand scheme of things, you were just a small spec of the universe observing all these phenomenons, a waste of space taking up time that could belong to something or someone more useful than your sorry excuse of an existence. That’s what you thought, at least.

You leaned a little farther over and rested your chest against the bars of steel. Would anyone miss you if you were to just...disappear? If you dropped everything and left right now, would anyone care? Would anyone cry for your absence? These were questions you had asked yourself over and over again, and each time you had managed to convince yourself that maybe, just maybe, the answer was yes, someone would care. But each time the questions rolled around in your head, it got harder to convince yourself of that. You found doubts in every corner of your mind, in every crack and crevice of your brain that they could slink into. Quiet at first, but now as loud as a siren, they overwhelmed you and made you believe you were worthless. They beat you down, exhausted you, claimed your once happy spirit and soiled it with numbness and apathy. Those doubts were the reason you wholeheartedly believed that you no longer mattered to anyone.

They were also the reason you were twenty stories up in the air on the roof of your apartment building.

Steeling your nerves and taking a deep breath, you let everything sink in. This was what you were waiting for all these years. All of your life had lead up to this single moment; all of your past mistakes, all of your life decisions, all of the lost friends, your job, your family and their snide remarks, your short comings...and all the rest. It didn’t matter. Every time you blinked, every sneeze, every laugh, whether genuine or fake, didn’t matter. Nothing mattered, including you.

Nothing matters, and no one cares.

And with that final thought, you hoisted yourself up and over the railing, limbs heavy with a dull numbness as you planted your feet loosely on the other side. For a second you balanced yourself, arms outstretched behind you to grip on to the bars for one last fleeting sense of security. Just one more step. But even as you moved forward, you found that your hands seemed to tighten their grip on the steel, and suddenly you felt physical panic despite your mind telling you that this was what you really wanted. It seemed your body was defying your mind.

“I don’t think you want to do that.”

Startled, you stumbled back and tightened your hold on the rails until your knuckles turned white. Were you imagining things, or did you just hear a voice? And if so, who was it and what were they doing all the way up here? Whatever their business was though, it surely had nothing to do with you, right? So why were they meddling in your affairs when you just wanted to be left alone? The thought of it was just a little too much, and you found yourself snapping at whoever was behind you.

“Uh, yeah, I think I do.” It came out more spiteful than you meant it to sound. But then, that was just how you were these days...bitter and cold. All the more reason to end everything.

“Please, just come back over here to the other side of the railing. We can talk if you want, or I can just sit with you, or we can listen to music together if that would help?” The stranger’s voice was gentle and pleading, as if he was afraid to break you if he spoke too loud. 

“Just leave me alone! Why do you care anyway?” You stole a glance behind you to get a good look at the person trying to talk you down. The first thing you noticed was the green hair, and then the pair of concerned emerald eyes reflecting back at you. Under those were a set of freckles, giving him an overall boyish look, and finally- his costume. You recognized Japan’s Number One Hero, Deku.

“Because I don’t want to see you get hurt...or worse.” His tone was solemn. “I’m sorry, but I can’t just leave you alone up here. Clearly you had one purpose for coming up here, and I’m not going to let you go through with it.”

For a moment, you felt your heart soar at the possibility that someone cared after all. But just as hope was about to take root and bloom within your chest, it seemed that your mind had other ideas to cut the poor blossom out. As fast as the feeling settled, it was gone, and you reminded yourself that this was his job; he was required to help anyone who he thought might be in trouble. It wasn’t like he really wanted to be up here talking to you.

“What the hell do you know about why I’m up here? And anyways...it’s your job to save people. You don’t have to pretend to care about me. It doesn’t matter if you’re the number one hero or not, you’re still going to forget about me some day or another. A week from now you won’t even think twice about me. I’m forgettable. I don’t matter...not really. So please just leave me be. You’re bothering me.” No matter how hard you tried to keep the anger in your voice, you couldn’t help how it faded with each passing second. It was tiring to keep feeling everything and nothing all at once. You wanted it all to just stop.

There was long moment of silence that passed between the two of you, which you took as a sign that you had been right about everything you had just said. Your anxieties and nerves were starting to get to you by then; you were about to really go through with it and had inched forward slightly when he decided to speak again. 

“Once, someone told me to take a swan dive off the roof of my old school.” Your breath hitched as you stopped in your tracks. “I know what it’s like not to be wanted or needed by everyone around you. To feel like a failure, like there’s no hope left... Like you’re not worth saving. But even if you really think and believe all those things you said about yourself, just know that I care. And it’s not because it’s my job to, or because I’m a Pro Hero, or because I just happened to be in the area and saw you up here after my shift ended. It’s because at one point in my life, I could relate to where you are now.”

You were left without words for once as you stood there, wind whipping through your hair and eyes focused on nothing in particular. After the initial shock wore off, you finally turned around to face him. You searched his eyes for any trace of deception, anything to prove that maybe he was lying or just trying to get to you, but all you could find was sincere honesty. And Deku, upon seeing you turn around from the edge of the building, seemed to tense for a second before continuing.

“I climbed up to the top of the school roof that day and when I got up there, I just...stared down. All I could think about at the time was making the pain and the numbness go away. But then I thought of my mom’s face when she would hear the news...and I thought of how I would only be a statistic after that- a number, you know, like the ones I recorded every day in my notebook. But I didn’t want that. I had a name that I loved, a mother waiting for me at home, and a dream I was still holding on to. I realized what I really wanted was to prove everyone wrong, to still become the hero I wanted to be as a little boy. And even more than that, I just wanted the pain to stop. I think that’s what people truly want- just to feel better.” He gave you a small smile and offered a hand to you after that, and you swore his eyes were glistening a little if you looked close enough. “I would care if you were gone. I would think about it every day. I don’t even know your name, but your face is already engraved in my mind. I would have made the biggest mistake of my life had I ended things that day; look at where I am now! If I let someone else take away all their future opportunities and potential life experiences knowing that I could have stopped them, knowing that I didn’t offer them the support I desperately wanted when I was going through it, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”

“...you mean that?” You couldn’t help the tremble in your voice.

“Every word. Please, just come back over to this side and talk to me. Tell me what’s going on in that head of yours. I promise I’ll do my best to help however I can.”

Something pulled at your heartstrings as you listened to him. He had put into words everything you had been feeling these past few months, everything you wanted to express but just couldn’t. Tentatively, you reached out a hand to meet his, and he wasted no time as he wrapped his other arm around your waist and hoisted you back over the railing towards safety and into his arms.

“Oh thank god,” he breathed out. His arm was still wound tight around your waist as he pulled you flush to him and walked you backwards. When the two of you reached the wall of the entryway to the rooftop, he stopped and slid down to the floor with you, a heavy sigh of relief escaping his lips. “Please don’t ever scare me like that again.” You blinked back tears as you leaned into Deku’s tight hug, your arms coming up to wrap around him as well. You couldn’t remember the last time someone had been so loving and caring with you or the last time you had been hugged like this. 

“It’s okay, I’ve got you. I’m here.”

That was all it took for the dam inside of you to burst.

Hot tears finally spilled over and soaked Deku’s costume as all the emotions you had been suppressing came back full force. You hid your face in his shirt to try and stifle your cries as much as you could, but it was no use. There was no hiding the turmoil in your soul; all you could do was endure the sadness and frustration while he held you and comforted you. Slowly the reality of the situation started to sink in, and the realization that you almost took your own life hit you full force.

“I...I almost-!” You didn’t have the strength to finish your sentence as you sobbed harder and shook in the hero’s arms. He eventually shifted the two of you around to a more comfortable position and rubbed circles on your shoulder soothingly while you cried, a look of understanding and empathy in his eyes.

“But you didn’t. And you know what that tells me? That despite all those lies you’re telling yourself, there’s still a part of you left that wants to live. There’s still a part of you, no matter how small, that’s holding on to hope that things will get better. Find that feeling deep down inside you, grasp it, and never let go of it. You deserve to exist here. You deserve to be loved. You deserve to wake up each day and live and enjoy life. And I know you probably don’t feel that way right now, but believe me when I say that it’s the truth.” A comfortable silence settled between the two of you as you took a moment to contemplate his words.

“You said we could talk if I wanted to...” you sniffled.

“Sure, we can talk. It doesn’t even have to be about anything in particular. Whatever you want to talk about, I’ll listen.”

So you told him everything. You poured your heart out to someone who was no more than a stranger to you, even if you recognized his face because it was plastered on every poster and broadcasted on every T.V. Even if you knew who Deku was, the person behind the mask was someone else entirely, and it brought a sense of comfort to you to know that a real person was listening to your troubles and caring about them. For once, someone was taking the time to make you a priority, and that was not something you were used to.

“I’m sorry, you’re probably tired of listening to me by now. I can’t believe I dumped all of that on y-” you tried to apologize, but he shook his head and cut you off before you could finish.

“Don’t be. I offered, didn’t I? I genuinely want to hear about what’s troubling you. Everyone deserves to be listened to, especially when they’re hurting. You’re important, and what you have to say is also important. Don’t let anyone ever tell you otherwise.”

You blinked up at him with wide eyes. How was he so good at this? A thought crossed your mind then, and you wondered for a brief moment if...had anyone ever listened to him? He had taken the time to calm you down and make you feel important by listening wholeheartedly to everything you had to say. The least you could do was return the favor, right?

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a really good listener?” you asked, a small but sincere smile on your face.

“Yes, actually. Plenty of times, but I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of hearing it. It just means I’m succeeding at making others feel important, which is what I aim to do, so thank you for that.” He stared up at the night sky, his eyes reflecting the sparkling stars above. They were...so full of life. You found that fact inspiring.

There was a small pause before you asked him another question, hesitance evident in your voice. “Have you...told anyone? About what you said to me earlier, I mean.” It came out more awkward than you intended it to, and he seemed confused about what you were trying to ask.

“About what I said to you earlier?”

“Y-You know, the...rooftop...” you trailed off, not wanting to pry if he didn’t want to talk about it after all. “I’m so sorry, I just assumed since you mentioned it earlier that maybe you wanted to talk about it or something- Ah, I’m making things worse, I’m really sorry!” You ran your hands through your hair, anxiety getting the better of you and making your heart race. Deku shifted slightly beside you but kept his arm around your shoulders, a look of understanding coming over him.

“Oh, that?” He gave a small airy laugh. “While I appreciate the concern, I have a really great therapist. It’s kind of a requirement for Pros; we deal with a lot on the job.”

“...oh.” Oh. Oh. You weren’t sure what you were expecting, but certainly not...that. “Again, I’m sorry if I pried,” you apologized one last time. At the sound of your third ‘I’m sorry’, Deku looked over at you thoughtfully.

“You know, I used to apologize a lot too. Actually, my therapist was the one who got me to kick the bad habit. Speaking of which...” He reached into one of the red pouches on his costume belt and produced a single card between his index and middle finger, the lamination of it emitting a dim glare as he held it out to you. “I think you could really benefit from therapy. I’m not saying that to be rude or anything-!” His face flushed as he tried to explain himself; he didn’t want you to feel like he was dismissing you or that he wasn’t concerned with your issues. “I swear! I just...really think you could use another person in your corner right now. They’re super nice, I promise! I’ll even help you set up an appointment if you want.”

You shrunk a little at the idea of seeing a therapist, but took the card anyway. The writing on the little piece of plastic stared back at you menacingly, an uncomfortable feeling settling in your gut.

Dr. T/N T/L/N Deku Agency Specialist in Psychology Phone: 800-888-8880 Email (Mon-Fri): T/nT/l/n@deku.agencies.com Office Hours: Mon-Sat, 9am-5pm

As if he could read your turbulent mind, Deku pulled you closer and rested his head against yours. “I know talking to someone else about your problems seems scary at first, but it really helps. If you keep everything bottled up, then those feelings and problems don’t have anywhere to go, and they’ll eat you up on the inside. Therapy gives you a safe way of letting those feelings out and sorting through problems in healthy ways. Of course it’s ultimately your choice, and everybody’s experience differs...but it did help me.”

You considered everything he said, including his offer to help schedule an appointment. If nothing else, you could really use another friend... You pocketed the card and decided to worry about it later; exhaustion was starting to settle in by now, and the air only seemed to get colder by the minute. It had to be past midnight by now.

“Thank you for everything you’ve done. It means a lot to me, truly. I’ll...think about the therapist.” 

“I’m glad to hear that. But in the mean time, can I see your phone?” The question caught you off guard and forced you back to the reality of where you were, and what you’d planned to do earlier.

“Uh, well...” you started, “I left it in my apartment. I didn’t think I’d need it up here since... Anyway, I don’t have it on me.” You stared off to the side, not wanting to talk about the subject any longer.

“Do you live around here?”

“Yeah, actually, I live in this apartment building.”

“Oh! Then, I’ll walk with you back to your apartment, since it’s getting kind of cold now. But first...” He whipped out his own phone, opening the contacts app and clicking on the ‘Create New Contact’ option. “What’s your phone number?”

“My phone number?” You stared at him, dumbfounded.

“Yeah, so I can text you and call you. I’d like to be friends, if that’s okay?” He gave you a shy smile with a faint blush, and it was hard not to burst into tears again.

A friend. You had made a new friend. One that cared about you, that wanted to make sure you were okay, that would put in time and effort to talk to you and see you. You could hardly believe it.

“Really?”

“Of course! Sooo, can I have it, then? Oh, and I guess I’ll need your name at some point too, huh?” he teased, a playful glint in his eyes.

“It’s Y/N,” you stated happily.

You immediately gave your number to him, and then the two of you stood to go back inside. He helped you up and held the door open for you, and from there you took the stairs back to your apartment. You made small talk on the way back, and things finally started to feel normal to you for once. But as soon as you turned down the hall that led to your apartment door, you started to feel it; that familiar sinking feeling was creeping in, apathy and the sense of nothingness overwhelming you again. The night was finally coming to an end. You would go back to your apartment, and things would go back to normal, and Deku would probably forget that you even existed. He said he would text, but would he really? He was so busy with hero work, and you half expected things to go back to the way they would be. What if nothing changed? What if you went back to feeling numb? What if everything that happened tonight didn’t really matter? What would you do?

“Whoah, Y/N, slow down. Everything’s gonna be alright.”

Huh? Shit! Had you said all that out loud?

You panicked as you stared at your door. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t-”

“Hey, look at me.” He cupped your face between his hands, tilting your head up to meet his concerned gaze. “Everything will be okay. But these kinds of problems don’t just disappear over night, they need time, and sometimes some outside help from others. I promise to keep in touch with you. I want to make sure you’re okay, and I’d like to get to know you better too. Maybe I can introduce you to my friends? They’re really great people, and they would make you feel right at home. But for now, let’s just focus on one thing, okay? Let’s get you settled back into your apartment for the night.” He ruffled the top of your head softly, and while others might have taken the gesture as offensive or belittling, you were just glad to have felt his warm touch.

“Okay,” you agreed quietly, and you twisted the handle to the door, which you remembered you had left unlocked.

The small apartment greeted you with familiar darkness, that is, until Deku flipped your light switch and the few lamps you had lit up the living room. He let himself in and shut the door behind the two of you, earning a surprised look from you and giving you an apologetic look of his own. “I don’t mean to intrude...I just...” He looked like he was choking over his own words. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to let you be alone right now...but if you want me to leave, then-”

“I don’t want to be alone either,” you were quick to cut him off. You had wanted to invite him to stay, but you also didn’t want to overstep any boundaries. However, it seemed like he beat you to the punch. “I don’t mind you staying. Besides, it’s late, and you look tired. The couch pulls out into a bed; let me get you some extra blankets.” 

You tried your best to be hospitable, even with him insisting that you didn’t need to and that he could just crash in the comfy clothes he wore under his costume. You didn’t have any extra clothes for him, but at least you could give him a pillow and a blanket. As you went to fetch those, you also grabbed your phone from your desk and dropped it next to him on the makeshift bed. He took the liberty of entering his phone number and his real name into your contacts before passing it back.

“No way, you like All Might too?” he asked as you handed him the themed blanket. “This is the same exact blanket I have at home!” A wide grin came over him as he cuddled into it.

His enthusiasm made you laugh a little as you tossed him the pillow. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.” You started to walk away to your bedroom, and as you were about to turn the lights out, he stopped you.

“Hey, Y/N.”

“Did you need something?”

He peeked his head over the edge of the couch. “I just realized I never gave you my name. You can call me Izuku, if you want. Since, we’re friends now, and all.”

“Izuku,” you echoed, “I’m really glad I met you.” And you meant it.

“Yeah, me too.” A moment of silence. “That I met you, I mean! I’m glad I met you too!”

You smiled and turned the lights out. “I’m gonna head to bed.” You hesitated a bit to ask him the question burning at the back of your mind, but your anxiety forced you to ask anyway, the fear of not knowing eating at you. “Will you still be here tomorrow morning?”

He answered you right away and gave you a reassuring look. “I’m off work tomorrow, and I don’t have any plans, so I won’t be going anywhere unless you want me to.”

“Okay. Goodnight, Izuku.” 

“Sweet dreams, Y/N.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding for so long, and with that, you made your way to your bedroom and changed into your favorite pajamas. The card that Izuku had given you earlier dropped to the floor while you were changing, and you picked it up carefully before reading it over again. Maybe...it was worth a shot. You had a lot you were dealing with, and the idea that you could talk to someone about it without being judged or made fun of almost sounded too good to be true. Sure, you had Izuku now, but you knew realistically he wasn’t going to be around all the time. You were tired of feeling like you were always alone, tired of feeling everything and nothing all at once, tired in general. It was all so exhausting. And he had said the therapist was nice...

You crawled into bed with your phone and pulled the covers over yourself. The home screen lit up the room as you opened your contacts and scrolled, looking for one name in particular. You tapped on his name and the familiar conversation screen appeared, the little vertical line blinking at you repeatedly as you worked up the courage to type out your message. Finally, your fingers flew across the keys, and you hit send before you could think twice about it.

Y/N: I think I want to schedule an appointment with the therapist. Can you help? 1:34am

It didn’t take long for you to get a response.

Izuku: Of course. I can contact them tomorrow, if you’d like? 1:34am

Y/N: I’d like that a lot. Thank you, Izuku. 1:35am

Izuku: Are you alright? If you need anything, come get me. I won’t mind. 1:35am

Y/N: I really appreciate that. I’m doing a little better. I’ll let you know if I need something. 1:35am

Izuku: Promise? 1:35am

Y/N: I promise. 1:36am

[joshjacksons]

Joshua Jackson interview with Refinery29

Against my better judgement, and at the risk of losing any semblance of journalistic objectivity, I start my conversation with Joshua Jackson by effusively telling him what a dream come true it is to be talking to him. See, like many millennial women who grew up watching the late ‘90s and early 2000s teen drama Dawson’s Creek, Jackson’s Pacey Witter means a lot to me. Pacey is one of the rare fictional teen boys of my youth whose adolescent charisma, romantic appeal, and general boyfriend aptitude hold up all these years later (unlike The O.C’s Seth Cohen or Gossip Girl’s Chuck Bass) and that is due in large part to the wit, vulnerability, and care Jackson brought to the character.

It’s the same intention he’s afforded all of his famous roles — Peter Bishop in Fringe, Cole Lockhart in The Affair, and even as a 14-year-old in his first acting gig as sweet-faced heartthrob Charlie Conway in The Mighty Ducks. Now, Jackson, 43, has matured into a solid supporting actor (with memorable turns in Little Fires Everywhere and When They See Us) and as a leading man who can draw you into a story with just his voice (Jackson’s latest project is narrating the psychological thriller and Canadian Audible original, Oracle, one of the over 12,000 titles available today on Audible.ca’s the Plus Catalogue) or find humanity in the most sinister men (he’s currently playing a sociopath with a god complex in Dr. Death). His magnetic pull is as evident as it was when he was the guy you rooted for in a show named after another guy’s creek. Jackson has never seemed to mind the fact that so many people still bring up Pacey decades later, and that’s part of why as an adult, he’s one of the few childhood crushes I still have on a pedestal. I tell him just a tiny slice of this, and Jackson graciously sits up straighter and promises to bring his A-game to our Zoom exchange. Jackson is in what appears to be an office, flanked by mess, like a true work-from-home Dad. He and his wife, fellow actor Jodie Turner-Smith, welcomed a daughter in the early days of the pandemic in 2020, and he tells me that fatherhood and marriage are the best decisions he has ever made. Jackson and Turner-Smith are a rare Hollywood couple who choose to let us in on their love, but not obnoxiously — just through flirty Instagram comments and cheeky tweets. Their pairing is part of Jackson’s enduring appeal. It’s nice to think that Pacey Witter grew up to be a doting dad and adoring husband, even if his wife’s name is Jodie, not Joey.

Jackson is an animated conversationalist, leaning into the camera to emphasize his points — especially when the topic of diversity comes up. White celebs don’t get asked about racism in Hollywood the way their counterparts of colour do, and when they do, they’re usually hesitant at best, and unequipped at worst, to tackle these conversations. Jackson is neither. He’s open, willing, and eager to discuss systemic inequality in the industry he’s grown up in. It’s the bare minimum a straight white man in Hollywood can do, and Jackson seems to know this. When he ventures briefly into trying to explain to me, a Black woman, the perils of being Black, female, and online, he catches himself and jokes that of course, I don’t need him to tell me the racism that happens in the comment section of his wife’s Instagram. The self-deprecating delivery is one I’m familiar with from watching Jackson onscreen for most of my life, and seeing it in person (virtually) renders me almost unable to form sentences. Jackson’s charm is disarming, but his relaxed Canadian energy is so relatable, I manage to maintain my professionalism long enough to get through our conversation. Refinery29: Your voice has been in my head for a few days because I've been listening to Canadian Audible Original, Oracle. What drew you to this project and especially the medium of audio storytelling?

Joshua Jackson: The book itself is such a page turner. I also love the idea of those old radio plays. It's like a hybrid between the beauty of reading a book on the page where your imagination does all of it. We craft a little bit of the world, but because this is a noir thriller married with this metaphysical world, there's a lot of dark and creepy places that your imagination gets to fill in for yourself.

I'm noticing a trend in some of the roles you've been taking on lately, with this and Dr. Death, these stories are very dark and creepy. But so many people still think of you as Pacey Witter, or as Charlie Conway, the prototypical good guys of our youth. Are you deliberately trying to kill Pacey and Charlie?

JJ: I'm not trying to kill anybody — except on screen [laughs]. It's funny, I didn't really think of these two things as companion pieces, but I won't deny that there may be something subconscious in this anxiety, stress-filled year that we've all just had. That may be what I was trying to work out was some of that stress, because that's the beauty of my job. Instead of therapy, I just get someone to pay me to say somebody else's words. So, yeah, that could be a thing [but] the thought process that went into them both was very different. Even though this is a dark story, [lead character, police psychic] Nate Russo is still the hero. [Dr. Death’s] Christopher Duntsch very much is not at all. I can't pretend to know my own mind well enough to be able to tell you exactly how [these two roles] happened, but it happened.

That might be something that you should work through with an actual therapist. JJ: Exactly. Yeah, maybe real therapy is on the docket for me [laughs].

So I was listening to Oracle and you're doing these various creepy voices — I’m sorry the word “creepy” keeps coming up.

JJ: Are you trying to tell me something? You know what? I wanted to skip straight to the creepy old man phase of my career. So, it sounds like I'm doing a good job.

You're doing amazing, sweetie [laughs]. So, I was thinking you must be really good at bedtime stories with your daughter doing all these voices. Or is she still too young for that?

JJ: No! She's all the way into books. Story time is my favourite part of the day because it gives me the opportunity to have that time with her just one-on-one. Her favorite book right now is a book called Bedtime Bonnet. Every night I bring out three books, and she gets to pick one. The other two shift a little bit, but Bedtime Bonnet is every single night.

I love that. Since you're married to a Black woman, you know a thing or two about bonnets. JJ: ​​Yeah, well I'm getting my bonnet education. And I'm getting my silk sheet education. I'm behind the curve, but I'm figuring it out [laughs].

You said in an interview recently that you are now at the age where the best roles for men are. And I wonder if you can expand on that and whether you think of the fact that the same cannot be said for the majority of women actors in their 40s?

JJ: What's great about the age that I'm at now as a man is that, generally speaking, the characters — even if they're not the central character of this show — are well fleshed out. They're being written from a personal perspective, usually from a writer who has enough lived experience and wants to tell the story of a whole character. Whereas when you're younger — and obviously I was very lucky with some of the characters that I was able to play  – you're the son or the boyfriend, or you're a very two-dimensional character. It's gotten better, but still a lot like you're either the precocious child or you're the brooding one. I will say that while I would agree with you to a certain point for women, I think that this is probably the best era to be a not 25-year-old-woman in certainly the entirety of my career. And it is also the best time to be a Black woman inside of the industry. There's still more opportunity for a 40-year-old white man than there is for a 40-year-old white woman, but it is better now than it has ever been. The roles that women are able to inhabit and occupy and the opportunities that are out there have multiplied. If I started my career in playing two-dimensional roles to get the three-dimensional roles, most women started their career in three-dimensional roles and end up at “wife” or “mom.” And that's just not the case anymore. There's just a lot of broadly diverse stories being told that centre women. So you're right, but in the last five years, six years I would say, there has really been a pretty significant shift.

And I think that shift is happening because who's behind the camera is also changing. JJ: Right? Who holds the purse strings. That's big. Who gets to green light the show to begin with? You have to have a variety of different faces inside of that room. And then, who's behind the camera. What is the actual perspective that we're telling the story from? The male gaze thing is very real. Dr. Death had three female directors. The central character of Dr. Death is an outrageously toxic male figure. Who knows more about toxic male BS than women? Particularly women who are in a predominantly male work environment. So these directors had a very specific take and came at it with a clarity that potentially a man wouldn't see, because we have blind spots about ourselves. We're in a space where there's a recognition that we've told a very narrow band of what's available in stories. There's so many stories to be told and it's okay for us to broaden out from another white cop.

I hope that momentum continues. Okay, I have to tell you something: I’m a little obsessed with your wife, Jodie Turner-Smith. JJ: Me too. As you should be! I love how loudly and publicly you both love on each other. But I need you to set the scene for me. When you are leaving flirty Instagram comments, and she's tweeting thirsty things about you, are you in the same room? Do you know that the other one is tweeting? What's happening?

JJ: We're rarely in the same room [writing] the thirsty comments because that usually just gets said to each other. But, look, if either of us misses a comment, you better believe at night, there's a, "Hey, did you see what I wrote?" One, she's very easy to love out loud and two, she's phenomenal. And I have to say, the love and support that is coming my direction has been a revelation in my life. I've said this often, and it just is the truth: If you ever needed to test whether or not you had chosen the right partner in life, just have a baby at the beginning of a pandemic and then spend a year and a half together. And then you know. And then you absolutely know. I didn't get married until fairly late in the game. I didn't have a baby till very late in the game and they're the two best choices I've ever made in my life.

I'm just going to embarrass you now by reading one of Jodie's thirsty comments to you. She tweeted, “Objectifying my husband on the internet is my kink. I thought you guys knew this by now,” with a gif that said "No shame." JJ: [laughs] That sounds about right.

She's not the only one though. There's this whole thirst for Joshua Jackson corner of the internet. And it feels like there's been a bit of a heartthrob resurgence for you now at your big age. How do you feel about that?

JJ: I hadn't really put too much thought into it, but I am happy that my wife is thirsty for me. What about the rest of us? JJ: That's great for y'all, but it's most important that my wife is thirsty for me. Good answer. You're good at this husband thing. You recently revealed that Jodie proposed to you. Then it became this big story, and people were so surprised by it. How did you feel about the response? JJ: Thank you for giving me the opportunity to give context to this story. So I accidentally threw my wife under the bus because that story was told quickly and it didn't give the full context and holy Jesus, the internet is racist and misogynist. So yes, we were in Nicaragua on a beautiful moonlit night, it could not possibly have been more romantic. And yes, my wife did propose to me and yes, I did say yes, but what I didn't say in that interview was there was a caveat, which is that I'm still old school enough that I said, "This is a yes, but you have to give me the opportunity [to do it too]." She has a biological father and a stepdad, who's the man who raised her. [I said], ‘You have to give me the opportunity to ask both of those men for your hand in marriage.’ And then, ‘I would like the opportunity to re-propose those to you and do it the old fashioned way down on bended knee.’ So, that's actually how the story ended up.

So, there were two proposals. I do feel like that is important context. JJ: Yes, two proposals. And also for anybody who is freaked out by a woman claiming her own space, shut the fuck up. Good God, you cannot believe the things people were leaving my wife on Instagram. She did it. I said ‘yes.’ We're happy. That's it. That's all you need to know. That has been a real education for me as a white man, truly. The way people get in her comments and the ignorance and ugliness that comes her way is truly shocking. And it has been a necessary, but an unpleasant education in just the way people relate to Black bodies in general, but Black female bodies in specific. It is not okay. We have a long way to go. Jodie is such an inspiration because it seems like she handles it in stride. She handles it all with humour and with grace. JJ: She does. And look, I think it's like a golden cage, the concept of the strong Black woman. I would wish for my wife that she would not have to rise above with such amazing strength and grace, above the ugliness that people throw at her on a day to day. I am impressed with her that she does it, but I would wish that that would not be the armour that she has to put on every morning to just navigate being alive. That's a word. That's a word, Joshua Jackson.

The 13-year-old in me needs to ask this. We are in the era of reboots. If they touched Dawson's Creek — which is a masterpiece that should not be touched — but if they did, what would you want it to look like? JJ: I think it should look a lot like it looked the first time. To me, what was great about that story was it was set in a not cool place. It wasn't New York, it wasn't LA, it wasn't London. It wasn't like these were kids who were on the cutting edge of culture, but they were kids just dealing with each other and they were also very smart and capable of expressing themselves. It's something that I loved at that age performing it. And I think that is the reason it has lived on.  We have these very reductive ideas of what you're capable of at 16, 17, 18. And my experience of myself at that point was not as a two-dimensional jock or nerd or pretty girl. You are living potentially an even more full life at that point because everything's just so heightened. [Dawson’s Creek] never talked down to the people that it was portraying. That's one of the things that I loved about it as a book nerd growing up. The vocabulary of Dawson's Creek was always above my level and that was refreshing. To go back to the “diversity” conversation, you can't really make a show with six white leads anymore and that’s a good thing. But I also don't know how I feel about taking a thing, rebooting it, and just throwing Black characters in there. 

JJ: I hear that. And there's certain contexts in which it doesn't work unless you're making it a thing about race, right? If you watch Bridgerton, obviously you're living inside of a fantasy world, and so you're bringing Black characters into this traditionally white space and what would historically be a white space. And now you are able to have a conversation about myth-making and inclusion and who gets to say what and who gets to act how. So that's interesting, but I don’t think you’re just throwing in a Black character if you changed Joey to a Black woman [or] Pacey to a Black man. What you're doing is you're enriching the character. Let's say one of those characters is white and one of those characters is Black. Now, there's a whole rich conversation to be had between these two kids, the political times that we live in, the cultural flow that is going through all of us right now. I think that makes a better story. All these conversations around comic books in particular like, "Well, that's a white character." It's like, Man, shut up. What are you talking about? It is a comic book character! Joey and Pacey don't have to be white. Dawson and Jen don't have to be white. And this is what we were talking about a little bit earlier. We get better the broader our perspective is, both as humans, but also in the entertainment industry. So if you went back to a story like [Dawson’s Creek], what was important in that show was class not race, which I think is true for a lot of small Northeastern towns. They are very white. But if you brought race into that as well, you don't diminish the amount of the stories that you can tell. You enrich the tapestry of that show. So I think that would be a great idea.

Make Pacey Witter a Black man in 2021 is what I just heard from you. JJ: Hashtag ‘Make Pacey Witter A Black Man’. There we go!

[undertaker1827]

Hi! May I request some Halloween headcanons (12, 13 and 29) for Sebastian and Undertaker, please?

By the way I love your blog! Have a nice day!🖤

Hello and yes you can!! This is my first thing using the Halloween prompts 😁🎃 Aw thank you, you have a nice day too. Hope you enjoy!

12] Doing your best to terrify kids who come to your door trick or treating

13] Terrifying each other (jumping out from behind doors and screaming, etc)

29] Doing each other’s makeup for your costumes

Masterlist

-

Undertaker

Right so it took you and Undertaker literal hours to get your costumes just right

He went as the stereotypical grim reaper (he found the human interpretation of them to be desperately amusing)

So a black hooded cloak, skull makeup and even though you could only see part of his face with the bangs, the makeup reached right up to his hairline

He’d gotten you to assist with the fine details, though he’d already done a pretty good job with it

You ended up sat across his lap with your elbows braced against his shoulders to get the lines just right, repeatedly whacking his arm to make him stop laughing and potentially messing up all your hard work

You on the other hand went as a zombie

That was a full out body paint affair and it took even longer than the mortician’s

You were beyond proud of the results, even if Undertaker had felt the need to make a bunch of little changes, claiming “The devil’s in the details, love”

He had also wasted a scarily short amount of time before taking a knife to your costume, claiming you hadn’t ripped it up enough to be a zombie

This had all happened early in the morning on the day of Halloween

You then took every opportunity throughout the entire day to terrify each other

Undertaker hid in coffins and allowed them to slowly creak open just as you had turned away, making the hairs stand up on the back of your neck and a shiver crawl up your spine

You glance cautiously out of the corner of your eye then quickly tur around to the coffin in question, only to find it empty with the lid open

That leaves you trying to rationalise the event away, only for Undertaker to scream and grab you from behind, leaving a trail of kisses across your neck and laughing at how your body trembles in his arms

If you try and push him away his hold on you just tightens, he can’t help but laugh more and pull you impossibly closer to his chest, teasing you for how jumpy you are whilst you hide your face in his robes

Of course that doesn’t last for long, because you need to get revenge

You hid under his desk, behind practically every door he walked through and even in a kitchen cupboard, but you never once manage to get a reaction out of him

He just grins at you and says hello, pulling you into a bear hug

You exclaim in the end, utterly exasperated, how could he possibly not so much as blink in surprise

The mortician dissolves into a giggling fit, and it turns out eventually that his senses as a reaper (especially one who hasn’t worn the glasses he so desperately needs in over a century) are fine tuned so excellently that he knows exactly where you are pretty much all the time

That somewhat takes the wind out of your sails, but you will not be defeated

The fact that you still jumped out at him, even knowing what he just told you, simply makes him laugh all the harder

When it starts getting dark, you two prepare multiple bowls of Halloween candy for trick or treaters

The whole front of the shop is decorated to the nines, usual display of coffins covered in swathes of cotton cobweb, a zombie climbing out of one and the biggest, scariest spider you could find hanging off the ‘Undertaker’ sign

You have plastic decorations over the little window to make the glass look like its been shattered, along with a bloody handprint on the inside

You have several carved pumpkins on the old cobblestones outside the shop, terrifying faces carved by both of you and candles burning proudly

There are also a couple of burning, decorative lanterns and headstone or two

Overall, the pair of you are the best decorated in the area and simultaneously loved and feared for it

The first trick or treater to knock on the electronic doorbell (a seasonal special which screams instead of rings) is met with you stumbling outside and groaning, arms held out in front of you and eyes unfocused, with Undertaker silently drifting out behind you, his scythe (the real one, much to your dismay when you realised) slung over his shoulder and burning green eyes staring down the children in front of you

It’s the loudest you’ve ever heard anyone scream and it’s all the two of you can do to keep in character, though you break the façade to start laughing a short while later

You give the kids as many treats as you think they can eat, then bid them on their way

Once you both disappear creepily back into the parlour, you start laughing together once more

You end up standing there and holding each other close for a moment, sharing kisses and generally discussing how thrilled you both are over how well this Halloween is going

Sebastian

Sebastian goes over to your place for Halloween

He arrives about halfway through the day, armed with the costume he plans on wearing

He’s going as a vampire and you absolutely cannot wait to see the result

You, as an inside joke with him, are going to be a demon

Even Sebastian had to laugh when you announced that, he was utterly delighted by the prospect

You start getting ready later in the day (especially when compared to Undertaker), though by no means is it late when you begin

Sebastian is dressed all in black, naturally pale skin not needing any extra makeup

He doesn’t so much as need to wear plastic fangs, just allowing his own canines to extend enough to be obvious, then letting his irises bleed to crimson rather than wearing contacts to provide the same affect

The demon also has a black cloak (it seems very authentically Victorian to you) with a massive collar which flares out behind him whenever he moves

He really looks the part

Your costume, on the other hand, takes far more doing

You also wear all black, but the effort that goes into your makeup (a joint effort) to make you look sufficiently demonic (as decided by Sebastian) is phenomenal

It takes you both well over an hour and you look utterly terrifying by the end of it

Your nails are painted black and your eyes are dark and smoky, irises shining out brightly

Your partner thinks you look fabulous, however no costume is complete without pints of fake blood

You cover Sebastian in it, delicately though - he’s a tasteful vampire, none of this destroying your food and leaving carnage in your wake

You get him to put some on you as well and to your dismay he does so sparingly, getting you to tilt your head back so the drops he places on your face roll down to your jawline

He also puts a little on hour bare hands, claiming less is more

When you finally see yourself in the mirror, you realise that how he’s done it is absolutely brilliant and gives the perfect effect

Cue ‘what kind of vampire would I be if I couldn’t do as small a task as this’

Sebastian goes off not long after you finish to make some last minute checks on your various decorations - the front of your house looks like the entrance to a gothic manor thanks to the collective effort the two of you put in

Of course there’s also pumpkins on the front step and ghostly silhouettes in the windows

You go into the kitchen to check over the stuff you need for trick or treaters, entirely unaware that the demon has reappeared in the doorway

He comes up behind you totally silent until hu suddenly lunges for you, as arm around your ribs and the other low on your waist as he pulls you, screaming and utterly terrified, back into his chest

His lips are on your neck a moment later, threatening to start drinking your blood if you didn’t stop yelling, it’s me Y/N, who else could it be?

Apparently ‘a zombie’ wasn’t the right answer

As soon as your mild heart attack passes, you feel the immediate need to get revenge

You try the same trick as him, but he clearly knew you were there before you even walked through the door

You then attempt it the other way around; jump out from behind the door as he walked through it, but that only succeeds in making him laugh

Ultimately, you didn’t manage to scare him once, though it was fun to try

In spite of this, you did manage to completely terrify the kids that came to your door

Sebastian could even sense them walking up to the house (which made you feel better about not being able to scare him) from the fear already radiating from them

When someone rings the doorbell, you allow the door to open seemingly by itself, only appearing yourselves when the door is wide open but the hall is so dark the kids can’t see if anyone is there or not

You walk up silently, Sebastian allowing just a little of his power to exude out, creating hellish shadows that crawl up the walls and a dark smoke that drifts outside

The children scream once more and even any adults accompanying them appear creeped out

You give everyone sweets though, breaking out of character and smiling to chat with people at the door

Looking down the street, everyone has pumpkins and decorations outside their doors, groups of children going from house to house in a plethora of different costumes, all laughing and screaming, comparing their candy and oblivious to the cold

You and Sebastian just stand and watch the scene go by for a while, him contemplating the marvels of the human race and how much its changed, whilst you breathe a happy sigh at the proximity to him, proceeding to rest your head on his shoulder

[heliosthegriffin]

Earth-King Jaune I

AN: This an alternate semblance Jaune fic. If you can’t guess it from the title, uh, well just read it.

--------------

Jaune sat on the rooftop of the dormitory, looking at his hands underneath the night sky thousands of stars glancing down on him. Today he had under-covered his semblance, and won his first combat class fight.

--------

Finding his semblance wasn’t a particularly impressive affair. Jaune had been chosen to fight in combat class, against Sky Lark from Team CRDL, and they had fought a evenly match spar against each other.

But, in the end, Jaune was being pushed back by Sky’s superior range, the boys halbert-gun giving him the extra foot or more to strike at Jaune to push him back.

Not that Sky was a particularly strong opponent, he just had range and some leverage. He wasn’t fast like Ruby, agile like Ren or Blake, strong like Nora or Yang, skilled like Pyrrha, or had a powerful semblance like Weiss. Just more skilled, and better conditioned.

A proper opponent for Jaune really.

Even as he was being push back, Jaune didn’t feel very tired, just infuriated. 

Sky wasn’t much of a talker, but he had a smirk on his face as he pecked away at Jaune’s defense scoring the occasional hit to Jaune’s aura, slowly but surely wearing away at him.

In a display of impatience, against Pyrrha’s training, Jaune tried to bash Sky’s halberd away, but the other boy maneuvered his halberd back and then quickly stabbed his halberd at Jaune’s stomach and fired a shot that had him rolling onto his back.

Jaune laid on the other-side of the arena annoyed and bitter, as Sky smirked down at him from the other side. He rose to his feet as fast as his limited training let him.

Sky gave no reprieve though, taking great pleasure in dismantling his opponent, rushing across the arena.

In that moment time slowed down, as Jaune hyper-focused. His adrenaline pumping at the max and his powerful aura improving his sense. He just wished he could finally stop this guy!

What happened then wasn’t particularly flashy, explosive, or loud.

Jaune in a moment of unconscious action as his instincts empowered by his very Soul guided his sword and his hand. He held Crocea Mor’s straight out before flipping it and holding it blade downward then plunged the blade down to the ground as Sky charged at Jaune.

There was a slight cracking as Jaune hit the tip of Crocea Mors into the concrete floor. That Crack went forward ten feet before stopping in-front of Sky Lark creating a pothole in the ground.

It wasn’t very deep maybe a inch deep depression and less than a foot across.

It got the job done though, as Sky Lark assured of his victory kept charging even as Jaune stabbed his sword down, arrogantly assured of knowing Jaune’s fighting style like the back of his hand.

He easily tripped into the pothole falling with a surprised look on his face. He managed to get his halberd in front of him halting his fall, but Jaune saw the opportunity crossing the arena quickly to deliver a powerful two-handed strike to Sky’s head.

The other boy was KO’d immediately.

------

Jaune laughed to himself on the roof, nobody could have believed what happened, not even himself, not tell Nora started running and jumping everywhere.

His teammates were so proud of him, and Pyrrha was downright hysterical with pride.

Ruby too, he even thought that Weiss cracked a smile.

After class though, Ms. Goodwitch held him back.

------

“Mr. Arc, what did you do? You’ve never shown something like this before. So I’d appreciate it if you explained it to me, to prevent any injures or accidents, of course.” Ms. Goodwitch looked at him with stern green-eyes.

Jaune gulped nervously. “Um, I won?”

Ms. Goodwitch rolled her eyes goodnaturedly, and shook her head. “No, Mr. Arc, I mean what did you do in your fight with Mr. Lark?”

“I hit him with my sword?”

Ms. Goodwitch sighed. “I mean the part where Mr. Lark tripped.”

Jaune scrunched his face pensively. “I don’t know? I thought he just tripped.”

“Acts of the Brothers are uncommon, unless your name is Qrow Branwen.” Ms. Goodwitch said with a sigh.

Jaune didn’t know who Qrow Branwen is, but he must be very unlucky.

“Come, Mr. Arc, look at the replay of the fight.”

Jaune turned his seat away to look at the large holographic screen in her office.

It showed the fight, but then she paused it when Jaune touched his sword to the earth.

“That right there, Mr. Arc. What was that?”

Jaune looked confused for a moment, thinking intently. Then he started to remember and explained. “I don’t know, I just did what my gut told me to do. Like if I did that it would cause something that would help me.”

“Hmm, lets continue.”

She played the rest of the video, Jaune’s eyes widening as he watched the cracks spread into a depression in the concrete.

“I did that?” Jaune asked pointing at himself.

“I suppose you did, less you had a guardian spirit to watch over you.” Ms. Goodwitch looked at him. “Did you feel anything else when you did that? Like possibly a pull on your aura, or feeling in it?”

Jaune thought some more. “Yeah, I think I did, like when I did that it was like the most natural thing it the world, like moving a third arm I never knew about but always used.”

Ms. Goodwitch tapped a finger on her desk, clearly in thought.

“Mr. Arc, I have a theory. If you would accompany me to the classroom, we may be able to confirm it.”

Jaune looked at her confused, but shook it off and followed her trying to piece together what was going on.

They arrived at the arena with Jaune looking the cracks and the pothole.

“Do you think you could possibly reverse what you did, Mr. Arc? It is perfectly fine if you cannot, but if I’m correct in my assumption then it should be in your capabilities to do so.”

Jaune felt at little shock, that Ms. Goodwitch believed he was capable of anything, but it was mixed with excitement. Excitement that he might have potential to do something other than swing a sword.

“Just do what feels natural to you, and of course, your aura. Let it guide you and it should come with ease.”

Jaune nodded and once again unsheathed Crocea Mors, It feeling surprisingly nice in his hands, and strangely tinglingly like a build up of static electricity was covering it, like it was eager to be used.

Jaune pressed the tip of the blade into concrete, a trickle of his reserves flowing into the stone, and then he felt like a dial with ticked. He pulled the sword up and reversed his grip to point it into the air.

There was a slight growl from the earth as it sealed back, but it all went back together, like there was never any damage at all.

“Well, well. Looks like my assumption was right after all. Come back to my office Mr. Arc, I’d like to do a couple more test and try to impart some wisdom onto you.”

Jaune looked at her excitedly, almost not noticing her words, but followed back with enthusiasm.

-------

Back at the office Jaune was excused from the rest of his classes, Ms. Goodwitch turned out to be a Dr. in Semblance theory and study, so she had the authority to remove him from class under that authority to study a potentially semblance with unknown limits or capabilities.

She moved them into a room adjacent to her office, a large arena like room, but half of it was filled with various tools, items and devices.

She turned on a holographic recorder and a robotic assistant to record them and write down anything they said.

“Why do you need that?”

“All Doctors have bad handwriting.”

------------

Jaune looked at the pot of soil before him.

“I want you to try and divide the soil without attacking it, you may use your sword.”

Jaune pressed Crocea Mors to the dirt and it trickled down like before the soil dividing in half with far less effort than the concrete.

“Fascinating, did you notice any differences?”

“It was easier.”

“Do you think you could move it? You may use you’re sword.”

Jaune looked at the soil. There was not harm in trying.

Tapping tip of against the soil and then lifted the tip up, the soil following up behind it.

“Hmm, do you think you could have it follow you?”

Jaune felt with his aura and so far nothing felt wrong, or even off. 

He swung the sword soil following the tip. Other than a trickle of aura to keep it there.

He did some sword fighting with his shadow and there was no noticable change in control of the soil.

Even if he ran, jumped, or dropped his sword, though it became much more difficult to control, he remained in control of the sword.

Jaune explained it to Ms. Goodwitch when she asked.

“Could you try shaping it?”

Jaune nodded and held his sword out, and tried to picture a circle.

It took some aura but it became a circle, well actually a circle cylinder.

He made it in to a sphere.

He made all the basic shapes he could.

“Try making something more detailed if you can.”

Jaune nodded.

He focus his attention on the pyramid of soil and tried to imagine a copy of Crocea Mors.

Jaune shook this time as exertion became more difficult as the more complex the form. He grabbed his forearm with his left hand, keeping his sword steady as he modelled.

It was much more tiring but it was done.

“Do you feel any fatigue?”

“Yeah, that actually took something out of me.”

“Do you need to take a break?”

Jaune thought about it, but shook his head. “No, I just need a breathe.”

Ms. Goodwitch looked a little concerned. “If you believe so, when you’re ready, I’d like to do a last test on the soil.”

Jaune let the soil fall into a formless glob in the air. “Hit me with it.”

“Try and create a detailed model of person, or as close as you can without straining yourself.”

Jaune smiled and nodded. 

He focused on dirt and steadying his sword-arm with his other. Now, who to model?

Snow Angel.

He tried to form the mass of soil into the likeness of Weiss.

It didn’t work, too lumpy. Not enough detail, trying to move it in one place destroyed another.

Agghh. ‘What if I pour more aura into?’

Jaune focused on his work and trickled some-more aura into it, pouring more and more in, it didn’t work.

If anything it made it harder to move, but he couldn’t stop, something was telling him something was going to happen if he kept going-

KA-PLUMP!

Purple rune formed into front of Jaune as his work exploded all over him, covering him in a dusting of soil.

Ms. Goodwitch had a worried smirk on her face. “I assume that’s a no?”

Jaune gave a nervous laugh.

“Now next question? Do you think you could clean this up?”

---------------------

The answer was yes. He could even remove the soil out of his clothes.

----------------------

The next several hours were spent testing his abilities on different forms of earth and minerals.

He could move and control sand, mud, and loose earth with no difficulty, changing their shape with ease. But, he couldn’t shape stone and harder more solid material.

He could make a rock float easily, repair cracks in it and make it fuse to other stone, but he could not make it change shape. Not without breaking it down into smaller ones and then reforming it. Which was much more exhausting than controlling in shaping mud, which was harder than controlling sand or soil.

The only thing he couldn’t manipulate out of tests was earth dust strangely enough. 

“I suspect that is due to Dust’s anomalous properties, if you expand your control of your aura you may be able to incorporate into your semblance.”

Jaune nodded feeling tired, swinging his sword around and making his aura do things was pretty tiring after awhile.

“Anyway, Mr. Arc I’ve come to the conclusion that you have a very powerful and rare form of Telekinesis specialized in manipulation earth. You are a Geo-Kinetic.”

Jaune nodded, but a question came to his mind. “Hmm, but why do I feel more comfortable using Crocea Mors when I use my semblance?”

Ms. Goodwitch nodded. “That a good question, I have no conclusive evidence, but I have a strong theory.” 

“Which is?”

“I suspect it’s a form of placebo effect and muscle memory, you channeling your aura into the sword likely makes it feel more like a point of focus, like a brush for painting. It feels more natural to you as you’re aura is more used to being in your sword. If you practice your semblance with out it you’ll likely feel just as comfortable, if not more, using your hands or gestures.”

“Huh,” Jaune then stifled a yawn. “Well, thank you Ms. Goodwitch. You’ve been a great help to me.”

“It’s my duty, Mr. Arc. As not only your instructor, but as a fellow telekinetic. Have a pleasant eveinnnngy,” Ms. Goodwitch blushed. “Oh, darn now you got me doing it too. Make sure to come around every so often to give me updates, and I’ll make sure to impart so tips to you to help with your semblance.”

---------

Explaing his semblance had been pretty simple.

“I can control earth.”

“It took you four hours to figure that out?” Yang asked.

“It took four hours to figure out what kind of earth I can manipulate. Which is all of it, minus earth dust.”

Weiss looked smug at that.

Blake then surprisngly spoke up. “Are you sure it’s a good idea to advertising your semblance to us?”

Jaune thought about it. “It doesn’t really matter, like all I’m saying is I can control like earth and stone. Not like that advertises any weaknesses. Plus I can only imagine as I get better with it, it will only become more obvious.”

A gauntleted hand smacked his shoulder, nearly bowling him over.

“Well, Jaune, I’m proud of you. With your semblance, Team JNPR is stronger than ever. But, that doesn’t mean you get to slack off now, with your first victory it’s time to move you’re training to the next stage.”

A bead of sweat dropped down Jaune’s forehead.

“Oh, joy.”

----------

Which brings us to Jaune looked at the stars.  Even tired to the bone, from fatigue and aura exhaustion, Jaune could not fight back his excitement for whats to come.

He had a victory under his belt, a semblance, good friends, and Ms. Goodwitch actually seemed to not hate him!

The future seems bright.

AN: I can’t believe Jaune got a fucking power up.

[theravennest]

Let’s Talk: The Blooms at Ruyi Pavilion

I finished all 40 eps about two weeks ago, actually. I enjoyed it for the most part, the 1st half especially, but there were several things near the end that took me out. 

But first some of the good bits...

The cast chemistry was immaculate. Our four main lead actors were a lot of fun together. Not just Zhang Zhehan and Ju Jing Yi, but also Wang You Shuo and Xu Jiaqi (Loved them!). The four of them have such obvious ease with each other after their previous work together in Legend of Yun Xi and it made scenes with any combination of the main four really pop. 

I was especially drawn to the sisters’ relationship and the Prince-Vassal bond going on between Prince Su and Little Marquis. (Y’all know I’m a sucker for both sibling stories and stories about fictional royals and their loyal vassals.)

Most of the ancillary characters were interesting, actually. As y’all know from my last post about this one, I was crack shipping like crazy all the side characters. 😂 This cast made it easy for me.

Except for Prince An. (Sorry to hit the bad so early.) Good god, I hated that man. His character was poorly drawn in pretty much every way, which is unfortunate cuz he’s the main antagonist. Any story with a main antagonist that just doesn’t work is always gonna be weaker.

Also, no offense to people who like that actor but he was the only cast member who did absolutely nothing for me in terms of performance. So much of the story was focused on his weaksauce motivation and dry acting like, my god, put me out of my misery I do not care.

Anyway, the set design and costuming was top notch and I even enjoyed the broader story ideas the show was trying to put forth. The sitcom vibe of the first 20 eps or so was SOOO good. Our four mains’ comedic timings were pitch perfect. 

Unfortunately, the writing took a sharp nosedive in the back 3rd or so and it had a rough ending. (The lightning strike on the tower scene, the fight in the underground temple, the return of Prince An’s mom...all of that was trash. let’s be real.)

I mostly blame this on three things: the missteps with the Prince An character, the lack of development of Rong’s prophetic dreams even though that was the main premise of the show, and the jump-the-shark moment that was the wedding night and its subsequently underwritten fallout. 

Now to clarify, I don’t mean to say the wedding night event shouldn’t have happened at all but rather the execution of it within the story was poor and it negatively impacted 90% of the other character motivations/progressions and the overall pacing. 

You know, it felt like that thing you do as a writer where you wake up and have a specific scene in your mind. It’s evocative, impactful, fun, or otherwise intense. But you just have that scene and it’s something that would have to happen in the middle of your story. So you work your way backwards to try to get to that scene and you do your best to get the characters to make decisions to get there but when you sit down to write nothing works out. It’s clunky or OOC for the scene to still happen so you end up having to either scrap the evocative scene or keep the clunky lead up and hope no one notices. That’s what that wedding scene and everything that happened after felt like. They wrote themselves into a corner and just struggled to recover until the bitter end. 

The main pairing suffered the most because of the poor writing choices. No matter how much chemistry ZZH and JJY have together, even they could not completely salvage Rong’s yo-yoing behavior with Prince Su. They started off so wholesome and then dove into such toxicity and miscommunication for no reason. 

Don’t get me wrong. I can very easily enjoy angst. But Fu Rong consistently broke this man down. After ep 25-26, it stopped being good angst and became so awful to watch all the emotional manipulation and turmoil. There’s something broken in the writing if 9 out of 10 times Prince Su cried or fell into depression it was because of something Rong did or said to him after jumping to a conclusion with only part of the puzzle pieces gathered. 

I could forgive some stuff because Prince An was manipulating things but some stuff was just all Rong not giving Prince Su the benefit of the doubt or plain old not doing her due diligence in investigating. She is supposed to have inherited the most prolific and successful spy organization in the show and she still got 90% of her conclusions wrong. It was like she was determined to always think the worst of Prince Su no matter what despite how often he went above and beyond to help her. Despite the fact that he literally had a reputation as a general for being a harsh taskmaster but fair and just. 

I think what broke me was when she did the bare minimum investigation into her own father’s death and just fully blamed Prince Su without confronting him honestly or even considering his personality or their relationship up until that point. She really believed a single street seller’s entire testimony over the man she lived with and supposedly loved for months. Girl...

And this is after she’d previously mistakenly accused him of killing her mentor with very few facts to the point where she stabbed him on their wedding night.

There came a point where I actually wanted Prince Su to finally, truly divorce Rong and settle down with someone who could love him right. Maybe give him time to heal from the repeated heartbreaks, betrayals, and the literal stab wound in his chest but he was so fucking in love with Rong, he just couldn’t escape.

(If there were behind the scenes production reasons for the clunky-ness of the back half, I would not be surprised at all but ultimately they don’t matter cuz the story we got was the story we got.)

Imagine if we had gotten a Rong who used her prophetic dreams to navigate the cut throat world of royal politics. Or imagine if we’d gotten Rong as a true apprentice to Ruyi who learned both metalsmithing and spycraft in the first half and took over the pavilion as a competent leader in the second half. As it stands, it just felt like wasted potential.

I’m glad they had the modern day special AU eps tho cuz those were great. Zhang Zhehan and Ju Jing Yi had the opportunity to really showcase their incredible chemistry but in a modern setting and with better writing than the back 3rd of BRYP.

Now let’s talk Zhang Zhehan since he was the reason I started this in the first place. I loved him in this. I truly did. He was stern and serious but also playful and sweet. He was romantic but awkward, badass but vulnerable. He really delivered a nuanced and charming performance. I loved every second.

I think my favorite moment wasn’t some badass fight or even a super romantic moment. No, it was when he got drunk and started crying like a little baby cuz Rong was constantly doubting him no matter what he did. It was simultaneously sad and hilarious. Like gut busting funny. Y’all can watch it here:

I laughed so fucking hard at this. Oh my god, guys! This shit was too much.

Random Thoughts:

The romance between the 2nd leads was A+. Truly an adorable affair. Though I think they should’ve gotten together officially earlier around ep 25 or so and we should’ve seen the rest with them as a couple.

The costuming was so good y’all. For all the main four characters but I was especially drawn to Prince Su’s outfits.

The ghostly pale look with the bright red lips and eyeshadow makeup for Rong did not bother me at all. I actually liked it for her though I think it would’ve worked better if she’d had more explicit prophetic abilities.

I could’ve used more actual war scenes with Prince Su and Little Marquis.

The OST for the show SLAPPED!

That one kid spy in Ruyi Pavilion was voiced by the same actor as Chengling from WOH and I have never double-taked harder. lmao

Even though there were things I didn’t like in this show, I appreciated how gay I could make it in my last post. Truly it was a bisexual’s dream aesthetically.