#but this seems to be the only thing pun has control over in his life

[part-time-zombie]

a long list of things that are confirmed as canon in sanders sides:

Virgil hates flying

Logan is afraid of what's at the bottom of the ocean

Roman is absolutely terrified of the dark (and screams like a final girl in a horror movie when he's scared)

The sides can change how the others look

Virgil can in fact control shadows/darkness

Patton made up a game called "patton cake" and it is very messy and confusing to play

Janus is cold-blooded and sheds his scales

Remus and Roman both have sustained long-lasting injuries

Logan can't "duck out" like Virgil did

Logan has a literal "thinking cap" that he wears

Roman and Remus can conjure living things

Virgil has kept/stolen items from both Logan and Janus

Logan and Virgil are great at giving each other gifts

Logan's gifts that he gives are usually some form of money

Virgil hates being babied

Patton has no idea where babies come from

Logan called puns his "forbidden fruit spread" and has actually made several dad jokes on purpose

Both Logan and Roman have fainted over crofters

Virgil cannot skateboard to save his life (but still pretends he can to seem cool)

Roman insults things as his way of showing love, and has in fact made fun of nearly every side

Patton is allergic to cats and Remus is allergic to soap

Remus deliberately attempts to smell bad

Logan said crofters are the only thing that understands him

[sleepybugeyes]

I read through all of Elias/Jonah's dialogue (as you do) plus some relistening and mentions of him, so here's a big list of some fun things and behaviors I noted!

I thought he made a lot of eye puns/jokes, but he only does it once in mag161, however he does enjoy making jokes. "Creativity never was their forte." from mag80, "You want my account? My sworn testimony? My statement?" from 82, "If you die, I’m afraid you probably won’t be able to claim your expenses." in 116 and "I only have two eyes, after all." in 120. no one ever laughs at his jokes only he finds them amusing

His last words telling Jon a sarcastic or mocking "good luck" are mirrored earlier as he also tells Basira good luck the last time he sees her, and Martin, as he's getting arrested

He loves gloating. "I forget how new you all are to this." from mag92, "Coffee is not as good for disguising tastes as you might think." in 98, "She’s hoping that even if I see it coming she’ll still be able to overpower me. She’s wrong, of course," in 102, "A masterpiece, isn’t it?" abt his panopticon in 158 and of course his whole monologue in 160

He does his budgeting on tuesdays and his scheduling on wednesdays

He also likes getting lost in work

in mag40 he makes up proper incompetency (said he didnt know how the fire system works, while he later admits he was actively waiting) just that once, but more so he acts like he doesnt get the full picture (doesnt know whats in the tunnels, whats strange about the institute) or acts too late and apologises (not stepping into jon's stalking behaviour). Which makes me think he is quite fine letting people think less of him but unless he has something to hide hes not actively looking to give the impression

in mag92 elias slides the papers for basira across his desk, but you don't hear him take them out before, meaning he prepared and got ready for this before he called the police

in general he's a very preparing man, Lukas steps in when Elias is arrested so has has control over who'd run it. in mag118 he says he prepared something to hurt martin (my speculation is that he likely has some trauma that could hurt you prepared for any person that could cross him, just in case he needs it). When he gets arrested he has something prepared so he doesnt get killed and ofc s1-4 is preparing Jon for his grand ritual

Elias admits the idea for his ritual kinda fell into place after Getrude didnt do anything about the people's church in march 2015. He shot Getrude and appointed Jon shortly after so "when you came to me already marked by the Web, I knew it had to be you." is pure dramatics as Jon was hired 4 years prior

also he got his ritual in 2018 so he managed to acomplish his life's goal in only 3 years, love his grindset 🔥

We never get a number for how many people Elias has killed in his ritual, the real life millbank has held over 1000 people at once, but id imagine his one panopticon held less than a whole complex

its really interesting to me in mag92 that hes SO sure they all know he's talking to them of his own free will. is he just that dead set on being in control or making sure they take no credit for his confession

there is a clock in Elias' office (but it's only heard in mag98)

He has killed people but Elias is very much not a blood thirsty person. Getrude and Peter are both surprised when he results to that. He's very much just ruthless and does not care, if to get his way he has to kill someone. It doesnt seem like he's ever happy to do so, maybe this is a quirk of being eye aligned and getting rid of any type of knowledge is painful (he does for example never want Tim to die at the Unknowing), or he just finds covering those murders up a hassle

for the Unknowing Elias books them all hotel rooms, how thoughtful

something cute to me that Jon was too good at the Eye that Elias couldnt meet him face to face post coma

In mag158 he implies that even Institute employees not in the archives are tied to it, at least enough that they could suffer or die if it burned down

between finding other people just as tools to watch and discard and saying empathy holds you back he was definitely a very very lonely man

He is a very breathy person. He sounds breathy when he talks. He takes deep breaths to ready himself and before he uses his powers. And he often breathes through his nose before speaking or during pauses

He has said Jon's name 62 times, only twice calling him "Jonathan" and called him archivist 25 times (24 in the mag120 statement, 1 in mag138 and 1 in mag161)(he also kinda calls him The Archive in 160)

other fun amount of words: know (65 times), see (42), martin (35), detective (20), eyes (20) and eye (9), afraid (9) and "bullshit" (1)

its still insane to me they added all of those sound effects of Elias' cuffs in prison, thats something fun to appreciate. It also means its canon he gestures quite a bit!

[hypnoneghoul]

okay more tail amputee phantom thoughts as promised, under the cut because it got long

i think the piece that's left is under a half of what he had, just where the bone ends so he has full control over the nub. the thing is that it's not something he's used to, he lost the rest of his tail on his way topside so he's had the full thing most of his life. he does het phantom (pun not intended) pains but that's not the worst. the worst is that because he's been alone in the pit, he's never had a chance to wrap his tail around another ghoul. and then when he came topside and would finally be able to do that, his tail got all bit ripped off and now he literally mourns that ability. it's not only a customary ghoulish way of showing affection but it's an instinct. when a ghoul cares for another ghoul they wrap their tail around them to keep them close and safe and show they care. it's like a human holding hands and hugging and kissing and so so much more. phantom can't do that and he's heartbroken because of it. omega and aether tried to come up with a prosthetic but nothing seemed to cut it and only caused phantom more discomfort so they eventually gave up, but he still can't, and probably never will, accept the fact that hes missing something so important. of course his pack tells him that it's not that important, that theres other ways of showing how he loves them and all that, but phantom is just...lacking

now the first time that someone actually came up with something that would work was swiss. you know those tricks when they set a fake hand next to a real one and cover your wrist with something and then touch the fake one and you can feel it? yeah imagine that with a tail and some quintessence. swiss used some quintessence to convince phantoms mind even for a split second that rains tail that was wrapping around his waist was phantom's. it worked, as I said for just a second, but it did. phantom cried. a lot

another step I would say was dew. I think he and phantom were cuddling one time with dew on his back under a sleeping starfished phantom. dew would roam his hands all over his body and he'd get to his nub tail and start fidgeting with it. it feels just like the first part of a normal tail and dew wonders if it's not enough to wrap around a hand at least. or another tail. it must be, so he tries to coax it to wrap around his wrist as phantom sleeps. it would probably be easier if he were awake and helped, but it still works, more or less and dewdrop is delighted. he leaves it like that and waits until phantom wakes and the moment it registers in his sleepy brain that he's holding dews arm with his tail he starts sobbing with relief like never before

it's still not the fulfilling feeling he'd get if he had a full sized tail, but he knows his pack loves him so much that they will never stop trying to come up with new ways to feed his instinct

[theblogwithoutfear]

watching daredevil s3 and i found it odd in the flashback scene that karen, who had an experience with addiction in the past, couldn't approach matt's vigilantism with a bit more empathy. idk it just feels kinda out of character they made her react that way, saying "you certainly sound like an addict' with a judgemental tone. they really made karen and foggy hit the audience over the head with their treatment of matt like an addict and it just feels icky.

especially when compared to how karen reacts to anything frank does with softness and compassion even when frank repeatedly pushes her away like matt does, isn't that a bit unfair?

Get ready for another long post folks

I understand what you're saying here, and honestly I think you're right in some ways. I think it goes back to what I was saying earlier about Karen being flawed. She's not perfect. Like Matt, she can be a hypocrite at times. She can also lash out in anger and judgement. That's just a very human thing—and also, something that Matt does consistently through the series. They're all people, they're all flawed, they're all blind (no pun intended) to their own hypocrisies and faults.

Also, and this is just my personal opinion, but I think she's also reacting that way because she's an addict. She has experience with what it's like; she knows how damaging and difficult it can be. And with Karen, when she finds out that Matt's Daredevil, she's already poised to see it as a bad thing. He gets beaten to shit on the daily, has countless near-death experiences, and literally puts his personal life on hold and lets everything fall apart in service of his alter ego. Which, to be clear, is definitely something that Matt needs to do—he has to be Daredevil. He can't hear the things he hears and not suit up. So it makes sense that he has to sacrifice so much of his personal life.

But at the time that Karen finds out about Matt being Daredevil, Matt has not yet learned how to balance his work and personal life. They even make a joke about that at the end of season 3. (Karen: "You're going to move back into Matt Murdock's apartment?" Matt: "Yeah, yeah. I just figured he has a healthier life-work balance.") At the time Karen learns the truth, DD has taken over Matt's life and screwed everything up. Not to mention everything that happened with Elektra and the terrible position that put Karen in. He literally had an emotional affair with her, and Karen sees her in his bed and never gets an explanation. For all she knows, Matt fully cheated on her while in his DD persona.

And then there's the fact that Matt literally told Karen "I don't need him to be a part of me anymore. And I don't want him to be." Matt himself, at the time of The Defenders, is trying to let go of Daredevil. We as the audience know that it's a terrible idea, but Matt mistakenly believes that giving up DD will fix his life. The way The Defenders is written, it seems as though Matt has asked for Karen and Foggy's help in giving up DD. So of course they're both frustrated when Matt takes up the suit again; not because they think it's bad, but because Matt himself has framed DD as an addiction and has told them he wants to give it up. They're frustrated at Matt for his flip flopping, his "relapsing" if you will. Sure, they should be more compassionate. That's absolutely true. But Karen and Foggy are only human; and after seeing the way that DD has torn Matt's life to shreds (and their lives too!), it makes sense that they're frustrated with him.

The other thing is, the show itself is absolutely framing the DD persona as an addiction, from the very beginning of season 1. By the end of season 3 (and probably in the scrapped seasons 4 and 5, we'll see what Born Again will do) Matt has learned to balance the lawyer and the vigilante; his violence becomes something he can control. He's learned to walk that tightrope. However, at the very beginning of the show, it's clear that Matt's violence controls him. In that first monologue in the confessional, when Matt talks about "letting the Devil out," he's talking about the addictive power of violence. You also see it in episode 2 when he's torturing that Russian and he says "It's not just the boy. I'm doing this because I enjoy it."

All of this really comes to a head in season 2; Frank Castle points it out. He says "I think you and me are the same" and he says "You're one bad day away from being me." Because one of the core struggles of Daredevil, both as a show and as a character, is between the use of violence to prevent harm, and the use of violence as vengeance/emotional release. And despite Matt's moral grandstanding, he consistently veers into the latter. He never crosses the line into murder, but his violence is Matt's way of releasing the anger inside him—of "letting the Devil out." And that, frankly, is addictive for him. It's why it is so difficult for him to refrain from killing Fisk at the end of season 3. The emotional release of extreme violence, especially under ethically and morally justifiable circumstances, is very difficult for him to resist. It's in that last episode of season 3 that he really overcomes this, and realizes he can control the Devil inside him, rather than the other way around.

All this is to say, the show frames Matt's violence/DD persona as an addiction, and his arc is focused on overcoming this and finding a balance. So for Karen, who has a canon background of addiction, it makes sense that she reacts the way she does. She has little patience for him because a) she's human and flawed, and b) she knows what addiction did to her and her family, and she's scared what it will do for Matt (and Foggy and herself), and it causes her to lash out at him.

As for your point about the way she treats Frank Castle, I think it comes down to the fact that Frank is usually honest with her. Karen very vocally disapproves of what Frank does and all his methods, but she knows that he's honest with her, so she can meet him where he's at and they can go from there. Matt, meanwhile, has spent their whole relationship being deceptive and hiding things constantly (and yes, obviously he had good reasons for that, but it doesn't change the fact that it's very shitty for Karen to have to deal with). Frank doesn't have the same problem with work/life balance; he doesn't have two different identities. He doesn't hide and he doesn't lie in the same ways that Matt does. So I think it's fair for Karen to be mad at Matt for a while. After everything that went down—after Matt spent their entire relationship lying, tanked the law firm, destroyed his own life, and not to mention the whole Elektra debacle, all of this while they were dating—no wonder Karen's upset. She'd have to be a literal saint not to be!

There's also a lot to be said about Matt/Elektra and Karen/Frank being parallels to each other in the way that those relationships play out, but that's a topic for another day.

Anyway, I don't know how I've become the Karen Page Defense blog, but I'm not complaining lol.

[warsamongthestars]

One of the things that struck me in TBB, that after processing, immediately told me how the so called "family dynamic" worked and how it immediately grinded and gritted against fandom interpretation...

And how badly TBB really did fuck up TCWs character dynamics...

Was the episode "Common Ground". Season 1, Episode 10.

I can argue details and semantics all day, but that would require an episode by episode breakdown.

Common Ground, however, is an easy episode to point out that literally has all the flaws, in their showing, that every episode before it only inferred... and how those flaws grew afterwards in only weirder and weirder shapes.

Common Ground was when the Bad Batch were sent after a Separatist Senator, and Omega was left in Cid's bar.

There are several things to point out in this episode. Several that show case the flaws, and one that hits so closed to home that I can't, I really really can't, accept fandom interpretation of TBB family dynamics, because of.

Let's start with the flaws:

Hunter's repeated problem of expecting Omega on the team, when she's not on the team.

... One, You left here at the bar, Jackass, for safety.

... Two, goes against anything Hunter says about giving Omega a life, by immediately expecting her on mission.

... Three, Even when she's not there, she keeps having an impact on the story that isn't needed and certainly isn't wanted.

... Four, shows this nearly obsessive fixation that he never fucking gets over at any point in the show. A fixation that costs even Omega.. and I'll get to that one.

... Five, you think this about Omega, but Not about Crosshair.

Number Five on the above, is another one--The total lack of any group conflict or battlefield failure, thanks to losing a vital member of the team, Crosshair.

It only comes up here when its about the kid, who absolutely shouldn't have any reason to be on the battlefield at all. ( SHE'S LIKE FUCKING NINE YEARS OLD)

It is only roughly inferred by previous episodes (and only if you're looking for it), but for some reason, the Bad Batch never seems to suffer losing Crosshair or their Sniper, and no attempt as exploring what his duties were or what he meant to the team, is ever brought up.

The constant giving of his position and objects to Omega, really makes Omega into his Replacement, if not a full on team rebound.

And this is never explored. 3 Seasons are done now, and it was NEVER EXPLORED. Oh yes there was the Cross and Hunter confrontation, but that wasn't a confrontation, that was a pissing contest until the monster showed up. Every confrontation had been a pissing contest, because this show cannot write meaningful communication that isn't about the golden child donut steel or isn't a pun or one-liner.

Even TCWs would communicate meaningful, even when it was being funny.

Personally, if a team I had grown comfortable with, knew the dynamics of, relied on and was relied on whilst as a teammate, and had been with FOR YEARS-- decided that after my mindcontrolled zombie ass was taken / kidnapped and had gods knew what done to me... if they decided to replace me immediately with someone a quarter of my age with no training but having all my duties... I would be beyond pissed.

I would frankly never return to this group again, and would go out of my way to avoid them, will curse them for the rest of my fucking life. That sort of thing would destroy any relationships, and forget healing and repair and any communication--this right there would pretty much tell me that, the thing that was beyond my control, allowed my team the excuse to remove me entirely.

Forget trying to save me, it was easier to replace me and nobody gave a shit.

So yeah, that's another major flaw this episode brought up.

The regulation of Echo into bitchy sidepiece.

Nothing Echo says or does has any meaning in this episode. The Bad Batch don't listen to him, he doesn't do anything of import, and y'know, this kind of episode should have been an Echo Episode.

It should have been Echo centric.

Why? Because if there is anyone established in the Bad Batch group that would have a cow and character conflict with helping Seppies, it'd be Echo.

He was tortured, forcefully changed, and made into a weapon against his nation, his ideals and his brothers.

Confronting a Seppie Leader or a Seppie mission would be the perfect opportunity to dive into the character of Echo and his past conflicts.

But what does this episode do? Regulate him into bitchy side piece, and proving that the Bad Batch does not really give one shit about their brothers.

They already replaced Crosshair, so losing Echo wouldn't have been no skin off their teeth.

( So much for the TCWs team that adopted Echo because they knew how to care for them. Fuck them I guess--let's have these apathetic cardboard cutouts instead, OH LOOK AT THAT ONELINER THEY PULLED ISNT THAT AWESOME )

Exactly what do Tech and Wrecker do in this episode exactly?

Y'know, Tech and Wrecker were memorable in TCWs. But I can't seem to remember what they did here exactly that made them stand out. In fact, you could cut out Tech, Wrecker, and Echo, and leave the episode (as is) to Hunter alone, and the same shit would still be relevant.

In fact, that's pretty much a lot of TBB anyway. They removed Crosshair, and not a damn thing happened. They removed Echo, and not a damn thing happened. They removed Tech, and not a damn thing happened.

( Oh yeah, they pasted Echo back in a few times, cos y'know, Hunter's skillset means fuck all comparison to that written obsession of his )

Might as well have removed Wrecker too, they sure as hell didn't give him any satisfying endings or even character arc. Oh yeah, he's real cute when with Omega--but tell me exactly how interesting and important a MAIN character is if they're are only defined by how they look when in frame with another character.

Okay. Now, for the last one, and the personal bit.

Hunter yelling at Omega at the Bar.

Look, I like Omega as a character. My issue with here is what she represents in the narrative, how the narrative treats her, and what is spent in order to make her a good character. I would adore her more if she was a side character or side kick instead, someone who's really is meant is to define the main characters and add an extra dynamic or aspect--and maybe star in an episode or two to really get to know the side character.

The narrative treats her too much like the end all be all in everything, even in adult conflicts, and Treats that as a Good Thing.

Time for the personal stuff...

As someone who had once been a child, dragged into adult situations against both my health and my will, and worse, relied on by adults (who were suppose to nurture Me) for emotional support at cost and under threat either by forces outside or forces inside, especially after being sheltered and having been taught no skills but being expected to have those skills anyway, never once being taught communication but being expected to communicate and under a hierarchy of "Do what I say and anything to the contrary is Your Fault"--I know Omega's situation when applied to the Real World.

( Obviously I never ran from governments, never flew in space, and I sure as hell didn't have super duper genome brothers in the millions. But I did have one real shit homelife and its amazing what can translate to and from metaphor. )

( And how all the sudden, how I can have a really fucking hatred for shit writing, and writers who thought it was a good idea. )

You don't turn into a hero at the end of that journey. You don't even really get a sense of self until far into your own adulthood. Most of the time, the biggest quest of the day is getting out of bed or off the laptop to do even the most basic of things for one's self.

Now personal stuff over...

Omega is, like, nine. She was already left in a seedy place. She's young enough to trust adults without issue to any perceived flaws, because she wouldn't know what minor red flags look like.

And because she's really good at strategizing a game (cos apparently we couldn't allow Echo to do that, who was explicitly captured because he was THE stradegist), the local adult that she was entrusted to, exploits her ability to do so against potentially hundreds of customers.

And while this had benefits, cos it cleared the family debt (... for now), this was still exploitation of a child by an adult.

Then the Bad Batch return, and what does Hunter do? Give Omega her rights for causing attention. Even though she is Nine, and clearly, she couldn't possibly advertise for so many people, and frankly, probably couldn't say No either.

(And given the Racing episode that occurs in Season 2, Hunter Only does this to Omega ).

Sure, Hunter gets the "you're being an asshole" treatment and things seemingly clear up by the end of the episode.

But do you honestly thing that an apology game is how you remedy that sort of fuck up? That maybe, there should've been commutation about how the local seedy barkeeper is probably the last person you want to leave your kid with?

That y'know, an exspec ops super mutant might know a thing or two about communication and trust and enviromental awareness?

OR THAT MAYBE YOU SHOULD REALLY STOP GOING ON COMBAT MISSIONS AND JUST FUCKING LEAVE ALREADY!? YOUR DEBT IS PAID, GO AWAY, LEAVE, GET OUT, DO SO NOW.

Common Grounds, as an episode, highlights why the TBB doesn't work. Its not a case of "But only THIS episode is Bad and can be Ignored!" because Common Grounds highlights the prime elements of TBB, which are its many flaws.

Its underutilized characters, its total lack of environmental awareness, the emphasis on the super duper oc donut steel, and worse, its utter inability to bother reaching out to its audience unless its to twist a knife in.

( Just look at what they did to poor Tech. )

It doesn't try to be a hostile narrative, in fact its really good at being hostile to its characters and its environment, but it doesn't work any good without attempting to tarnish or ruin that good and it never considers what a positive step looks like that doesn't involve it coming off as shallow or excuse based--it overdoes Chandler's Law.

It is Common Grounds for Negligence.

... ( and I wasn't totally thinking about how that ending came together, but fuck, that checks. )

[obae-me]

MYYYY GOSHHHH. I was the one who sent the original, Siren!Lucifer ask and I COULDN'T HAVE IMAGINED THIS!! All the things ppl added onto it is just... chef's kiss! All these mindboggling hc's got me all kicking my feet and giggling like a schoolgirl oof >.< It has made my brainrot a thousand times worse!! XD

While I am still not a 100% satisfied with my writing abilities, here- I wanted to try a lil sumn-

You keep coming back to the beach. Maybe not every day, but still enough to have you questioning your sanity for willingly walking back to danger like this. The man... or mermaid? Or whatever it was you saw that day had grabbed your interest and was holding onto it tightly with those clawed hands of his. Your first encounter with him felt like a fever dream. You had never seen a man so inhumanely beautiful with those bright red eyes, and lithe body bathed in the moonlight. It had taken you a while to actually compute what you were seeing infront of yourself; because this wasn't a man to begin with. A gorgeous red tail replaced the space where a pair of human legs should've been.

It was an awkward affair when your eyes had met his. He stared for a while; still singing in that almost bioelectric voice of his? You truly hadn't heard anything like it to compare it to, but it felt like his voice was reverberating inside your head. Only to look at you with confusion after he stopped singing; as if you'd grown 2 heads when you still stood the same distance away from him than you had been before. His eyes narrowed and you could almost feel the irritation itching under his skin through his stare. You both stood still... just staring at each other until he gave up with a huff and splashed into the inky depths of the ocean.

This was the fifth time you were going to see him. The second time you found him (3 days after the incident) went a little better. You managed to wrangle a name out of him in exchange of yours and the fact that he was a Siren. You had heard of them before, but only in folktales and never took them seriously, but the man sitting on the rocks before you clearly proved otherwise. You wondered if their existence was the reason so many people went missing at sea; their bodies never found.

You were not stupid; as down in the dumps you were (enough to keep seeking his company against your better judgement) and wanting to escape this life of yours, his sharp black claws and fangs that poked out every time he spoke were warning enough to keep you standing a good distance away from the water on the sand. He could absolutely rip you to shreds; you were sure of that, but he kept coming back yet always sat by those rocks; not coming closer yet not moving away. You wondered why, but it seemed that it had something to do with his frustration. (Unknown to you was the fact, that by you not being brainwashed after listening to his song, you had dealt a massive blow to his ego. He simply COULD not digest the fact that YOU KEPT COMING BACK and still escaped him every time. He decided then and there, that no matter how long it took, you won't get one over him. He wanted to absolutely DEVOUR you out of spite.)

After the initial rocky start (lol pun was not intended) things fell into a weird yet comforting routine. You would always seek him out, sit on the beach and just... talk about anything and everything. He was a breath of fresh air from the oppressive routine you had found yourself stuck in. Time with him was an escape from the worries and regrets that plagued your mind and you always felt disappointed when it was time to go back. You'd talk about your classes, your parents, what you ate for lunch, your friends and how sometimes it felt that things were spiraling out of control in your own life. He'd always listen attentively and in turn tell you about his brothers' shenanigans (it took a long time for him to tell you about himself in the first place), and the everyday stresses of his own life.

It greatly amused you that even sirens couldn't escape from the worries of everyday life, and the stories about his brothers made you laugh till your stomach hurt. Slowly but surely, the distance between you became shorter. You sat closer, till your feet grazed the gentle waves, and he decided the rock that was a little further ahead in the shallower waters was now his seating of choice.

You kept wanting to tell him, but stopped just shy; of how much color he had brought back to your dull life. Some days the air shifts and you both forgo the routine just a little for each others' sakes. You talk about how inadequate you felt sometimes, how you wished you could go back and do it all right, how you feel so scared and hurt from the people who were supposed to love you the most. He talks about how he wishes he could be closer to his brothers, repair the bonds he broke and take away the pain he caused them, how his family was all he cared about and how he himself ruined it. In those tender moments you feel the need to reach out him, hold his hand and to somehow lessen the burdens that muddies the brilliant red of his eyes and sag his shoulders in exhaustion.

.

.

.

Of course you should've known better. You did know better. When time and time again the world had proven to you that the only one you can truly trust is yourself. You don't know why you let the walls you spent so long building around yourself crumble infront of him so easily, because as Lucifer lied on top you; one hand pinning you down and the other posed right at your jugular, you wonder when you had gotten so careless. His eyes; the first thing you had noticed about him, brewed up a storm and his mouth set in a hard line. You didn't cry. You didn't scream. How cruel was it of him to give you hope to live, only to rip it away from you in an instance. But at the end of the day you only have yourself to blame. After all the only one you have is yourself in this world...

[Oof it got so long, I didn't expect this- sorry~~~]

Aaaaaaaah, I'm absolutely flailing and sobbing! The allure of this AU is too strong! I can't!

Thank you for writing all this out to share with me, omg, it's beautiful. It feels like a special gift that I will be archiving in my favorites tag! So sweet, I love things like this, I love feeling the passion and excitement behind people's words. It's so invigorating and is actually making me want to write again (I've been in the dumps and have lost a lot of motivation to do the things I enjoy, but that's neither here nor there).

I love this back and forth Siren ideas with everyone, it's making my week!

[pilot-boi]

Well, if you want more I’m happy to provide. Cinder’s a bit younger here, and she’s only been at the hotel for a relatively short time. Unfortunately for her though, the abuse has already started.

Jaune appears in the hotel and hears a child crying out in pain, and runs around the corner to investigate. He sees an adult torturing a child with an electro collar, and doesn’t hesitate in the slightest, despite not knowing who either of these people are. He knocks out the lady with one punch, and it’s only when he goes to help the little girl that he recognizes who she is. Specifically, he recognizes her eyes, because he’d know those eyes anywhere. He’s seen them filled with malice, hate, and contempt, and those emotions frequently turned towards him. Now though, there’s no hatred in them, but fear. And those eyes are set in a much younger face.

Naturally, it takes him a bit to process this. First that it’s Cinder, and that she’s much younger than she should be. Eventually he realizes that he must have time traveled, that’s what the clock fruit had done after all, something like 10 years ago. It rewound time for him. And now he’s back here in his and Remnant’s past, long before Beacon ever fell and his partner was killed. And here he is, staring into the eyes of the person that did it, but if it’s before Beacon fell, then she couldn’t have done those things yet. So what to do? Well, there’s only one thing he can do at this point.

Meanwhile, while Jaune is deep in thought, Cinder has also been nervously staring at him. Yea, he saved her from the Madame, but she has no idea why he did that. And now he just seems to be staring at her. So when he suddenly bends down and picks up the remote she flinches and closes her eyes, bracing herself for more pain. But it doesn’t come. Instead a hand gently takes hers, and places the remote inside it. Stunned, Cinder can only choke out one word, the word that had been bouncing around her head ever since she saw the madame get punched.

Cinder: Wh-Why?

Admittedly, she had meant it more in general sense. As in “Why help me, why do you care?” The strange man in somewhat rusty armor seemed to have taken her question more literally.

Jaune: “Because, until we can get that collar off of you, you are the only person who should have control of that remote. I’d certainly prefer to just destroy them both, but that could possibly hurt you as well. We need to remove it in as safe a manner as possible. Luckily, I think there’s a guy in Mantle that should be able to help. So come on, let’s go.”

Like I said still mulling things over, but you’ve certainly got the gist of it. Yea, Jaune ends up taking the place of Rhodes, or at least, does what Rhodes should have done if he wasn’t clutching the idiot ball like his life depended on it. Still trying to think of a clever name for this AU, but currently thinking of calling it the MidKnight AU.

———

MidKnight is a good name for it, love me a pun

Little plot hole, Jaune wouldn’t know that they’re in Atlas, and so wouldn’t know that Mantle and Pietro are close by

Love love LOVE him giving the remote to Cinder. She’s the only one who should have it

Also, does Jaune still look like an old man, or did he get younger again? Either is good, I just wanna know for my mental image

This is good shit dude

[gaslightgatekeepgirlbosscombat]

Group H, Round 1, Poll 5:

Propaganda under the cut

Misa Amane

She’s goth. She’s a pop idol. She’s a mass murderer. She’s in love with a man who hates her. She had amnesia. She was tortured for fifty days and was just fine at the end of it. Two death gods fell in love with her and she was just ambivalent about it. She willingly halved her own life span twice except it doesn’t even matter because she’s basically immortal anyway. She was written by a misogynistic mangaka. Epitome of gaslight gatekeep girlboss.

Hannibal Lecter

the og of gaslight gatekeep girlboss! he manipulates will graham and the fbi from the start, leads will to believe he has committed a large amount of gruesome murders by taking advantage of his encephalitis leading to him getting arrested, turning the people he trusts against him. he goes out to crime scenes HE CAUSED with the fbi to profile the killers and always stays one step ahead! absolute king

"Hannibal gaslights Will so hard that the latter thinks he (a) hallucinated a killer that was legitimately in the room and (b) that he blacked out and murdered their surrogate daughter. (Also manipulated at least one of his psychiatric patients into becoming a murderer in a prehistoric furry costume) He gatekeeps the FBI for fucking years, only showing what he wants to. Really messes with their minds by leaving DNA and voice recordings of a supposedly dead girl. (Then gaslights *her* so she believes someone completely different held her captive) Even when he was arrested, it was only because he chose to surrender — only so his One True Murder Husband-to-be would know where he was. Hannibal is also determined to succeed in whatever he does. In fact, failure is not his vocabulary. He confidently commits all his murders, makes puns literally every episode about his cannibalism, and always seems to have control over his situation. Even in prison, he plays and wins all the mental games he chooses to dabble in. Hannibal is a gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss bastard and I love him. Pls vote for him"

literally gaslighted will graham throughout season one. also induced seizures, committed major medical malpractice, allowed brain fever to occur, then promptly framed him for murder and attempted to convince him that he had done it. 10/10 insane gay behaviour. gatekeeps the serial killing community by repeatedly murdering other serial killers (tobias budge, that weird racist eye guy, probably other people). also gatekeeps the dante community, also with murder. girlboss in everything he does. the cannibal puns, shattering the fourth wall by looking at the camera, the camp gayness……… the list goes on.

The entire plot is him gaslighting will and gatekeeping various things from various characters and he girlbosses his way through murder and cannibalism

Please don't make me answer this.

Literally a cannibal who is a psychologist who manipulates will graham a lot

[rileys-battlecats]

Man,

Wrentail's character is just something I love, he is horrible in a very mundane, unfeeling, callous way.

He looks at Mudpaw, a cat that is only still alive because Wrentail decided to save him as a kit, and is just like "kid's a pussy (pun intended), let me toughen him up." and puts him through horrible training without feeling anything. Yet at the same time it doesn't seem like Wrentail is out to make Mudpaw's life horrible or is targeting him, it's just that this is the only teaching method he knows. He is callous and doesn't seem to know or care about how this is affecting Mudpaw.

At the same time, when push comes to shove, he clearly has a basic sense of right and wrong. Not letting a kit die isn't exactly a exceptional test of morality, but it shows that Wrentail knows doing so would be wrong, same with saving Mudpaw from falling. He does both without hesitation or ulterior motive. Wrentail isn't evil or deranged, but he can ignore his own conscience when it suits him.

Also, love his design, the contrast between his colorful pelt and permanent grumpiness speaks to me. WHY COULDN'T YOU JUST MAKE HIM A BROWN TABBY LIKE EVERY OTHER BAD CAT IN WARRIORS!!! Now I'm invested :(

YES THIS. He is a very mundane evil. Not mundane in that his abuse was unremarkable, not at all, but mundane in a way that is just... the way some people are. I've said it before on this blog, but I try to portray Wrentail in a realistic way. I don't want him to be cartoonishly evil, because real people aren't like that. Real people have multiple sides to them, and they can be terrible and abusive while also doing good deeds in other areas. This most certainly doesn't absolve them of the terrible things they've done, but it can muddy the water if you're only looking for someone who is pure evil. That's why I portray Wrentail doing good things as well; real abusers hardly ever seem like abusers from the outside.

tbh I've gotten a few comments on the youtube videos that have mistaken these good deeds as a form of redemption for wrentail. This is absolutely not the case. Wrentail's good deeds do not cancel out his bad ones. Him saving Mudpaw at the falls? Sure, Mudpaw instigated the fight but wrentail is the adult here; as a fully grown warrior, he should be fully capable of handling an out of control apprentice. Real teachers have to handle situations with students who are being violent, and they absolutely are not allowed to allow students to harm others or themselves (source: several college classes on classroom management and personal experience in classrooms). It was the bare minimum that he pull mudpaw up from the falls. And he did! He did it without hesitation! But that hardly means he's a shining beacon of moral good. Saving Mudpaw as a kitten? Literally it would have been illegal if he didn't. Once again, he shows a bit of emotion in the situation, he's swayed by a tiny kitten being in need, but it's still the bare minimum of what he should do for that kit.

Doing these things was good, to be sure. He's saved mudpaw's life twice. But it is absolutely not a reflection of him "secretly being a good person" or whatever. anyway I know those sorts of comments are likely made by people who don't have as much life experience or are just on the younger side, but it's kinda disheartening to see people misinterpreting those actions as me saying "oh actually he was secretly a good guy!" when that couldn't be further from the truth of what I'm trying to say. Black and white morality doesn't work here, good actions do not always equal good person.

And just because he's chosen to be harmful and abusive to Mudpaw, doesn't mean he's pure, abject evil. Wrentail wouldn't go out of his way to hurt Mudpaw if he weren't his mentor. It just so happens that he was put into that position of authority over this specific cat he had something against, and because he could hurt mudpaw, he did. He had the opportunity, and he took it. He could have just as easily asked for Larkstar to assign Mudpaw to another warrior, but he didn't, because it gave him the excuse and the room to hurt someone he thought deserved it.

Man, I really love the concept behind the designs I made for Wrentail and Mudpaw specifically. Wrentail isn't supposed to look evil, that's the point! He blends in with normal clan society. I specifically altered their designs after a while, making Wrentail softer and more rounded and Mudpaw angular and sharp-edged, to reflect the other characters' impressions of them. It is really funny though how many evil wc characters are big dark brown tabbies HAHA

[garland-on-thy-brow]

Notes on Agrippina in Racine's Britannicus. 

Again indebted to Argent's discussion on the play. I only seriously disagree with him in his interpretation of Octavian (I have given mine here).

(1) Nero, as Argent puts it, is a riddle because he always performs, and this is what makes him truly fascinating and unsettling. There is a distance between what he is and what he performs. The darkness behind the mask.

I would argue Agrippina a riddle, for a different but related reason: there is a distance between what she used to be and what she is. The past we never see.

Britannicus is a play about power, unchecked, creating a monster. 

Agrippina's power is ruined before the play even starts. But it used to be there. In Agrippina's own words:

"When, my hand guiding the affairs of state, The senate, at my call, would congregate. Then, veiled but present, I would play my role: That august body’s all-controlling soul."

[Jean Racine’s Britannicus; Translated into English Rhymed Couplets by Geoffrey Alan Argent.]

And later, speaking about her taking over Claudius' authority:

"Too late: bed, palace, guards were in my power"

[Ibid.]

After another transfer of power, the "veiled but present""all-controlling soul" is now Nero himself. Literally: at one point he watches, from behind a curtain, the scene between Junia and Britannicus that he wrote and staged himself.

Agrippina is very human in this play. She can be so only because she has been forcibly removed from power. By the rules of the play, one cannot both reign and be human. 

She was a monster, and indeed could have continued to be, had the past events played out differently  - but we never see her be one. I would like to see that! Let me in!

By the time of the play, Agrippina has undergone a reverse transformation, monster to human - which is arguably much rarer than "human turned monster". Is it not an interesting case?

It seems she sorely regrets it.

(2) The play starts with Agrippina waiting, before dawn, at Nero's door, intent on catching him once he wakes up - only to find out that, while she thought him sleeping, he has been talking to Burrhus and the consuls there: the consultations from which she was, literally, shut out! This infuriates Agrippina: she accuses Burrhus and the absent Seneca (appointed Nero's tutors through her own grace) of stealing her son from her, and demands they stop meddling.

This scene vividly reminds me of Suetonius Otho 3: "on one occasion, [Otho] even shut out the emperor [Nero] himself, who stood before his door, vainly mingling threats and entreaties and demanding the return of his trust [i.e. Poppaea]".

Let me quote Champlin's commentary on the same scene:

"The story as Suetonius presents it is particularly intriguing. From one angle, Nero is shown as the sad and angry figure of the exclusus amator in love poetry, shouting at his mistress’s closed door: ipsum etiam exclusisse quondam pro foribus astantem miscentemque frustra minas ac preces ad depositum reposcentem. At the same time, there is an elegant legal color, punning on two kinds of contract. Nero made a temporary loan, in that Sabina was demandatam interim to Otho: a mandatum was a contract whereby one party agreed to perform a service gratuitously for another. But when he came to demand her back, he asked for his depositum: a depositum involved the handing over of a thing for safekeeping but not for use. That is, literarily and legally this is a very clever tale, and Suetonius was probably not its inventor." [Edward Champlin: Nero].

Agrippina, at Nero's bedroom door, demanding back her son whom she gave to Seneca and Burrhus for safekeeping, seems strikingly similar in tone to Nero demanding back his lover.

Agrippina is wrong, however, to put the responsibility on the tutors while it is Nero himself who plays them (and hides behind them for a while). There is a parallel fo this too: Plutarch (Life of Galba 19.4-5), commenting in the same situation as Suetonius, tells us that it was Poppaea herself who would shut out Nero, using Otho as a mere pretext.

[vaultofcobaltandjade]

Alright folks, Ao3 is temporarily down, so it's time for some meta Thoughts. Something I've been thinking about lately, especially with the recent interactions between Ashton and the Bright Queen, is how both Ashton and FCG might/did view their own bodily autonomy and how this affected their friendship as well as their gender identities. In this essay, I will...

As an Aeormaton, FCG had a demonstrably dehumanizing view of their metallic body, from not believing they had a soul to being willing to sell or sacrifice themself as a mere object to their final moment of utilizing their body's design to save their friends. I don't remember him ever saying that Dancer was his "owner" at any point, maybe just his "maker" or "creator" in the earlier episodes, but there seemed to be a very different dynamic with the Division of Public Benefit--aka with automatons that Dancer did create--versus with Bells Hells where everyone encouraged him to see himself as equal with a soul like any of theirs. Plus, the discovery of what he was originally created for and the actual Murder Bot moments on stream likely only increased any feelings of powerlessness over his body. Although all beings are technically "created" by others against their wills, FCG was built with a specific purpose they were meant to fulfill and then presumably be disassembled or repurposed after that task had been completed.

And with the gender thing: I've been thinking about the wider implications of having automaton and construct PCs. Historically, a lot of robotic characters in media have either been referred to as a genderless yet dehumanized it or forced into a human concept of the gender binary, the former being mostly because they're meant to be portrayed as non-sentient objects and the latter being mostly projection and attempting to erase the creators' (and audience's) fear of the unknown. So the choice to give some automatons in Exandria sentience and soul and the room for some genderfuckery has allowed for FCG's largely unaired but undoubtedly beautiful gender journey. (I mean, the irony and Pun Value of a robit being nonbinary is hilarious on its own.)

So while I can't know for sure how much FCG's he/they pronouns were chosen in relation to--or in defiance of--the historical depictions of robots I mentioned, there was undoubtedly a theme of reclaiming bodily autonomy throughout their arc.

Moving onto our other favorite he/they C3 PC though... Ashton's own history with their body isn't much better.

I mean, their first memory is the ritual of the Shard of Ka'Mort and being unwillingly portaled away to another continent, which later resulted in their entire body being transformed into stone and gem. (And while this is purely in headcanon territory, it wouldn't be that far off to imagine that maybe their father Efterin the cult leader may have even had Ashton for ulterior purposes, like having a sorta cult heir or even fully intending to give Ashton up for the ritual from the get-go, which would be incredibly dark and further lend to their lack of bodily autonomy.) Then, there's The Fall. The cracks and gold scars, the half-blindness, the head injury and slag glass. Even though it saved his life and has been used to his benefit since, he never asked Milo to pour the Potion of Possibility into his head or to get his unfathomable and unique dunamantic Rage abilities. And then, there's the recent Shard stuff, both the incident with the Rau'shan Shard--especially how it literally rejected him--and the full activation of the Ka'Mort Shard with its resulting Titan transformations. While I can't quite remember if Ashton's chronic pain began with the initial transformation in Bassuras or after The Fall, there's gotta be frustration and helplessness present whenever their body doesn't want to cooperate because of the pain and Exhaustion. Plus, there's the literal mind/body control moments that have happened where some enemy magically puppeteers Ashton's strength against his friends--similar in some ways to FCG's Murder Bot moments.

Back to the gender thing: I'm sure part of Ashton's gender feelings are from their pretty queerpunk, very genderfuck identities, which can be a statement of reclaiming bodily autonomy in and of itself. But I will always remember how Tal made a point in the CR Sick Day Stream to state that Ashton could have anything in their pants, and making them potentially AFAB/transmasc brings up even more complications with gender dysphoria and bodily autonomy.

So. All this is to say: a) Ashton and FCG's friendship and bonding over mutual Gender and Trauma and Self-Hatred and Lack of Bodily Autonomy and such will always be everything to me, and b) it's starting to make a lot more sense why Ashton is throwing himself into the proverbial fire by recklessly showing people like the Bright Queen or even Essek his dunamantic abilities despite the warnings and despite prior experience with hubris-induced mistakes. (This is especially the case in the wake of FCG's sacrificial death, but that's a whole other Long Post about Ashton's grief over the friend they started this campaign with and how they could have very well learned the wrong lesson from that self-sacrifice.) Ashton likely hasn't felt like they've ever truly had full autonomy over their body or, at the very least, that their relationship to their body has been Complicated. He's talked about how people in Jrusar would ogle at the hole in his head, often for a charge--much like how people would offer to buy FCG or even how a circus performer sells tickets for a spectacle. So really, it's not that far of a stretch to have people "examining" or experimenting on him. And with how little Ashton knows about his own body and what's inside it and how it works (even their dunamantic class abilities are purposefully left to random chance), of course he's going to be motivated to put himself in the hands of those more knowledgeable and experienced. If he's never had full autonomy over his body, is it really his to give away for experimentation in the first place? Has he ever learned to entirely respect his body or to feel a sense of power or control over it--especially outside of combat when he can kinda harness his unique abilities?

Most importantly, will Ashton get a moment of reclaiming full autonomy over their body--and, consequently, their life--in a similar arc to FCG, or will some entity--like the Bright Queen, according to a lot of fans' fears--inevitably take advantage of their self-neglect in order to gain control over their body with little regard to their mind or will?

Only time will tell... which is why chronomancy is the greatest magic of all ;)

[lenteur]

random thoughts about tell me that you love me, episode eight

(the rest is under the cut because i'm worried about your eyes having to read ALL OF THAT and this post might contain spoilers)

I have a love hate relationship with the scenery in kdramas because I want to live there but I can't 💔

The more I learn about jin woo, the more I feel for him. He had to adapt to the school because no one knew sign language. It's unfair and I wish the school offered him some help but alas, he grew up in an area where not a lot of things could be done to help him.

It's cute how jo han wants to make things right with mo eun after his reaction to the dating news. Proves that he's a great friend (even though he wishes he was more to her)

The four leaf clover thing is cute beyond words. It's incredible how the only people jin woo gave them to are his best friend and his lover 💖

Where can I hire a jung mo dam to cook all my dishes? If anyone knows please hit me up ;)

Jo han not wanting mo eun to come to his house is so me. I am torn and too awkward to say anything lol

This drama is filled with nosy people. First mo dam seeing his sister with jin woo, then mo eun eavesdropping on ji yu and now jin woo's student catching his teacher with his girlfriend. Girl, I would have fit right in. I know it's bad but sometimes I can't help being nosy like that lol

The aquarium scene is so beautiful, there are hearts in my eyes 😍

Jin woo slowly but surely involving mo eun in his daily life, that's character development. It's so sweet to see him open up little by little to her.

It's sad to see sometimes the only option for bullied kids is to let out all their anger and frustration at once by using violence. We don't know much about tae ho (I think that's his name?) and if he tried telling people (teachers or other adults) about the other kids bullying him but it feels like there's no escape for him. And resorting to violence was his last option because he can't take it anymore. And the bully has the nerve to say "The one who's hit sleeps better at night".

It's heartbreaking to see the kid trying to end it all by using a brick against his bully. Shows how much violence he went through. What's even more heartbreaking is him being able to raise his voice at other people but being almost defenseless when it comes to his bully. The mental toll and control a bully has over their victim is unimaginable. Tae ho raised his voice at jin woo because the latter didn't help him the other time, not knowing jin woo is deaf. But it shows how desperate victims are. They're searching for a helping hand, no matter who it is because the weight of it all is too much for one person. I wish the bullying would stop and the bully to be punished accordingly. They want to scream and ask for help but most of the time, it's either of two things: the victim can't because they know there will be repercussions or their cry for help falls on deaf ears (pun unintended).

On a completely unrelated note, seeing and hearing people write on paper is so relaxing to me. I could fall asleep to it.

Take this from someone who never wears makeup but I find it funny when in a drama, they show someone putting on makeup because it seems like there is no difference. I don't know how to explain it but it looks like there's no product on the palette/conceler/blush things and it's just for show. I shouldn't have written about this because the lack of skills and vocabulary is obvious 💔

Mo eun and jin woo are facing the first obstacles in their blooming relationship. Jin woo because he can sense mo eun's family and friends are a bit iffy about him. Mo eun because she fears she won't be able to communicate as fluently as seo kyung can with jin woo. I hope they face all hurdles together and find a solution together.

I'm happy that mo eun and jin woo are friends with so hee and her husband (what's wrong with me today? I can't remember anyone's name) so they can see that despite it all, love triumphs and they live a happy life together

I like that she reassures him she's feeling comfortable in their relationship.

Ji yu is such a great friend, defending her friend and letting the parents know her boyfriend is a good person. Thank you for being the best of friend ji yu.

THE KISS!!! don't mind me i'm going crazy haha

It was a cute episode. I liked it.

For those reasons, I'm giving it a 9/10

[netherfeildren]

People might have asked you before, but do you work or have studied in writing? How you write is beautiful and so engaging! I love it! Just a few sentences are enough to hook me up. I've just read ''Greener Memories of Better Men'', and you wrecked me. I'm not prone to cry, but with just over 10k words, you did it. I felt Joel's pain and mourning. How you describe it was painfully beautiful and heartbreaking.

The way you introduced Ellie was masterful. I liked that she still aids Joel in his healing journey with her sweet speech and puns. And the reader! I'm on the small size, and how you describe the size difference between the reader and Joel really gets me. She seems sweet and younger. Around what age did you think when you wrote her? The connection they share, be it by previous attraction or the pain (on different levels) of losing Sarah, feels strong and unstoppable. They do the deed in the car, lol! I don't know if you plan to write more about them, but may I ask, do you have a picture of their future? If they marry and have more kids?

Don't start me on ''Pink''. There's only one chapter left! This story is a treasure. I love a good forbidden/taboo relationship story, and this is mind-blowing! The way you describe the feelings and thoughts is captivating. Their first kiss in the bathroom gave me goosebumps. Their obsession with each other might not be healthy, but it's so good to read it. Joel's words about not being allowed to fall in love sound like a failed attempt to convince himself of what to do as if he knows he has already lost the battle, but he's not yet ready to accept it. Or it's what I'm hoping for. And she's bound to the same thing. All her life, she's been hiding who she really is from everyone (even her husband), but she cannot hide anything from Joel. He sees her. I wonder if Joel's son will appear in the last chapter.

Thanks for sharing these stories!♥️♥️♥️

Hi! thank you so much for such a kind message! one of my degrees is in literature so I did quite a bit of writing during school, but no, my current job doesn't have me writing in a professional capacity at all. Ellie is probably hands down my favorite tlou character to write and I don't do it enough. which if I think about it is probably because I'm always so worried about getting her voice right / having her remain in character. and you're so right her part in greener memories was entirely meant to help Joel on his journey to self healing just like she serves in canon. they're a team those two, no matter what universe we stick them in, I think. I didn't have a specific age in mind for the MC in that one, only that she was younger than him, something like a fresh set of eyes taking in the world in comparison to Joel's older more jaded ones. I've not given much thought to what their future would have been like honestly, but like it said at the end of the story, she saved his life in all the ways that counted, and I can't believe I'm saying this because it's SO unlike me in terms of the way my stories usually go, but even though I do think they stayed together for sure, I'm not sure if they had children. I'm not sure it really matters, or better said, I don't think the important thing, in my mind, in terms of that specific Joel, is like moving on, as much as being okay with himself at the end of it all. he was so afraid of turning into someone Sarah wouldn't be able to recognize that I think the real lesson is having something like that happen and being able to hold on to yourself, the rest is ancillary for me, and I'll leave it up to the readers discretion and interpretation :)

and pink... yeah, Joel's warning at the end is definitely falling on two sets of deaf ears. There was already too much of a build up of something that shouldn't have been between them, even before they'd gotten involved with each other, to be able to control it now. will sam appear in the last chapter? who knows, not I! we'll just have to wait and see what happens, I suppose! thank you so much for reading and again, for such a kind message 💗

[lily-blue]

Between you and me

☆ characters: boun & prem ☆ genre: enemies to on-screen lovers au ☆ summary: the anecdote their fans have already heard a thousand times: to prem, everything has started at the kaset fair ☆ words: 9,6k ☆ also: i’d like to dedicate this story to @dat-town​ ♥ i wish you the happiest day, love

Prem had a love-hate relationship with the Kaset Fair. On one hand, he liked that he didn’t have to study for exams or work on assignments for a whole week. He might have needed to leave his dorm early to get everything ready for the 10AM opening with his peers, he might have felt super sticky after the first hours by the grill, but he would have rather bathed in sweat all day than prepare for his theory exams in a crowded library on such a beautiful, sunny day in February.

On the other hand, he absolutely hated interacting with strangers who were down to initiate random conversations with him while he was grilling their pork. He was an introvert. He didn’t want to know about the juiciest gossips on campus or his customers’ personal life just because he couldn’t turn his back on them and walked in the opposite direction. Still, day after day, every second person seemed to have the same misconception about his polite attitude. It was tiring. The noise, the crowd, and that stupid milkshake booth that was across the walkway.

Once Prem served the petite brunette who had paid for two portions of grilled pork before she had started to curse her ex for being so controlling throughout their entire relationship, he let out a tired sigh, which caught his friend’s attention.

Pun closed the metal box they kept the money in and patted Prem’s shoulder in a lazy manner once, twice, three times.

‘You know, if you scoffed at them like you always do whenever I ask for your notes, they would stop acting like you’re their emotional trash can,’ the boy advised, earning a displeased scoff with his comment, similar to the one he was referring to.

Obviously, Prem still had his usual sass to his personality. It was only that he was also pretty competitive and he hated to lose.

‘Yeah, and they would also stop buying our grilled pork,’ he sulked as he brushed his friend’s hand off his shoulder and fixed his uniform. He didn’t want any of his professors to see him with a messy shirt or listen to their comments on how his loose appearance undermined their university’s prestige. It had happened with Ple the year before and her Maths professor didn’t let her live it down up to this day. Prem was already walking on thin ice whenever he entered his Economics 101 class. The last thing he needed was another reason Mr. Pakorn could have picked on him.

‘Would they? It’s tender and savoury,’ Pun retorted with a cheeky smile before he gave a wai to the next person who stopped by their stall. The boy smiled at their new customer like he knew him as he leaned closer to Prem’s ear and lowered his voice. ‘I’m sure anyone could bear a few minutes of silence for it.’

Prem elbowed into his friend’s side with a tight-lipped smile and pushed him further from the grill just in time for their customer to make his order.

‘No, I won’t risk it. See those guys?’ He whisper-shouted, fierce gaze kept on the medium sized pieces of raw meat that he placed on the grill one by one with utmost care. ‘They’ve already stolen too many of our customers,’ he claimed, hoping that his reasoning was enough for his friend to stop pestering him because of his over dramatic sighs. Because if he couldn’t have had at least those to cope with the chattiest customers, he might have truly lost his will to live by the end of the week.

‘Who?’ Pun asked without the tiniest effort to mimic the boy’s hushed tone, which made Prem almost as annoyed at himself for having expectations as annoyed he was because of the laugh that left their customer’s mouth. He shouldn’t have engaged into this conversation in front of others, not when his friend clearly didn’t know how to be subtle.

Pressing his lips together and trying his best to maintain a believable smile, Prem flipped the pork pieces on the grill and reached for a paper plate just to appear to be busy.

‘Who are you talking about? Psst! Prem!’ It took more effort for Prem to shut out his friend’s demanding questions then he would have ever admitted. ‘Prem! Who?’ But at least he had a good enough excuse to disregard his curiosity.

Or so he thought while he was checking the meat every ten seconds.

‘Here! Don’t hesitate to tell everyone about our booth or come back for more,’ Prem handed a full plate of grilled pork to the customer, mentally counting to five, eight, then twelve, before he took a deep breath and turned towards his friend.

As expected, Pun was already with his back to the metal box, eyes pleading and lips pouty as though his puppy face had ever worked on Prem. His walls were more massive and higher than that.

‘The celebrities’ booth,’ Prem claimed with a frown, the mere thought of those people pissing him off. He didn’t need to look at them to be sure they were winking at every passer-by who was close to them in age or that they were sweet talking them out of their money while letting them take pictures with them. ‘A bunch of show-offs.’

‘I’ve heard your grilled pork is really good,’ someone said in a honeyed voice, urging the two boys to pay attention to its owner. And while Prem was ready to put on his pseudo-happy face for whoever their potential customer was, one look at his friend’s bobbing Adam’s apple was enough for him to assume the worst. ‘Is there some left for me?’

Admittedly nervous, Prem turned towards the familiar boy and took a step closer to the grill to resist the urge to gift him with his judgemental stares. Not because he was only brave when there were no consequences, but because his senior was about to pay for their food and Prem was the type of person who had a hard time being disrespectful with people who spent their money on something he was selling.

That, and he wasn’t an idiot. He knew that this guy could have destroyed their booth with a single bad review on his social media.

‘I guess so,’ Prem mumbled as he picked up his grilling tongs and placed the raw pork pieces on the grill. He didn’t want to think about all the ulterior motives the guy from the milkshake booth must have had when he had walked up to them and had even less willingness to give him what he had truly come for, but his palms got embarrassingly clammy, hence he almost dropped a piece of meat when he stole a glance at him.

‘Good. I’ll have two portions, please,’ he ordered with a lopsided smile, but despite the added please and his good manners, Prem felt like this dude was bossing him around on purpose. As though, he had only asked for an extra portion to see him sweat behind the grill.

Calling him a jerk in his head, Prem bobbed his head and made sure the pork was delicious and plenty when he handed the two paper plates to the guy. Then, he watched like a hawk as the older elbowed his way through the slowly growing crowd with a soft, apologetic smile plastered on his face and took a seat next to a girl behind their own stall.

The guy offered some of his grilled meat to the students around him and the sight, for some reason, only made Prem more furious.

‘He doesn’t seem so bad,’ Pun chirped, his amused voice muffled as if it had come from under heavy layers of water; that focused Prem was on the outrageous scene in front of him. There was something in the way this guy carried himself that rubbed the younger in the wrong way and while a part of him felt repulsed just by looking at him and his fans, another part of him wanted to figure him out and beat him in his own game.

‘He obviously came here to spy on us. Now, they’ll come up with new ways to beat us,’ Prem claimed, confident in the conclusion he had come to.

Obviously, he knew their grilled pork tasted amazing, but could it have been delicious enough to make people as calculative as those guys willingly pay for it and advertise it through their purchase? Highly unlikely.

The boy behind Prem let out a disbelieved puff of air.

‘Or… but this one will be wild, so listen!’ Prem tore his gaze from the celebrities’ booth and turned towards his friend, eager to hear his take on the problem. Pun might not have been the sharpest knife in the drawer, but he always had reasonable and interesting theories when he was talking about his favourite manga, so Prem was obviously intrigued. ‘Maybe he was just hungry.’

The boy’s whisper-like suggestion felt like a mockery and Prem - with the vivid memory of their senior’s smug grin in the back of his mind - wasn’t having it. Therefore, he narrowed his eyes and hissed at his friend to shut him up.

‘You’re already one of his followers,’ he insisted, disappointment creeping into his voice and facial expressions. ‘I’m telling you, he’s trying to turn us against each other.’

‘You’re overreacting. It’s not even a real competition,’ Pun tried his best to talk some sense into his friend. However, his logical reasoning didn’t seem to reach the stubborn boy. Instead, if that was possible, it made Prem more determined to win this imaginary battle Pun seriously doubted their senior was even aware of.

‘Of course it is,’ the boy spat and the unusual fire in his eyes made Pun genuinely concerned; he just wasn’t keen on breaking it down to the younger that the students at the other booth weren’t interested in them. He would have been stupid to risk angering Prem when his grades strongly depended on his notes.

Pun would have rather gone to war with him and fought than fail his classes.

Thus, when their next customer walked up to their stall, he rushed back behind the metal box and gave a wai to the girl. He even initiated a conversation with her about her favourite parts of the fair, so that she wouldn’t have talked to Prem. In theory, this should have helped the younger boy to let go of his frustration.

If only he had known, Prem spent every undisturbed minute coming up with an unbeatable strategy to diminish the celebrities’ booth!

(Even though he was clearly playing a losing game.)

Prem had always been good at holding grudges. Still, he wasn’t aware of how marvellous he was at it until his eyes fell on a familiar, cheeky figure from across the room at the casting of Until We Meet Again.

The boy obviously hadn’t wasted his breath on cursing at or talking about his senior after the end of that particular university fair - no matter what his friends would have said -, but he had a fairly good memory. Not to mention that it was also hard to forget someone as charming (derogatory) as this dude with his ear-to-ear smile and smug attitude, so it really wasn’t his fault that he immediately recognised the older. He wasn’t obsessed. Hah! Prem would have never been obsessed with someone like him. He was simply annoyed that no one had believed him when he had warned them about his cunning ways with people.

Yes, that was about right. He was annoyed because the other seemed to already have a couple of people wrapped around his finger. Poor souls. They had no idea who they were up against.

Determined to keep his distance, so that the guy couldn’t have sabotaged his audition, Prem didn’t exchange a single word with his university senior. He kept an eye on him, though, to make sure he was prepared in case the older boy approached him. But he might have chosen to play a different kind of mind game this time, because he stayed away from Prem, too. He didn’t walk up to him like the younger boy had predicted based on their previous encounter nor did he acknowledge their history. In fact! He didn’t show any sign of recognizing Prem, which obviously irked the younger.

Knowing how much connections and good manners mattered in the film industry - after all, no company would have protected a troublemaker actor once the public turned against them for whatever reason -, Prem pushed aside his negative feelings and decided to focus on the task at hand: the casting. If he couldn’t have pretended to be on neutral grounds with the guy, why should anyone have chosen him for the role he intended to play?

He could do better than sending daggers into his senior’s way from across the room when he wasn’t even watching.

But it was hard. Not because Prem’s mind was hyper aware of the other boy’s presence - he hated how he had learned his name was Boun without the guy speaking a single word to him -, but because the older boy deliberately ignored him even when the two of them were made to stand next to each other.

It made Prem feel small, insignificant.

It made him furious.

Boun had no idea how lucky he was that Prem had his priorities straight. Otherwise, he might have taught him a few important lessons that his parents had clearly failed to teach him while raising him. For example, how ignoring someone who had served you the most tender grilled pork that had ever touched your bratty mouth was extremely disrespectful and petty.

Yeah, he was lucky Prem wanted that supporting role more than anything at that moment. Or else, he would have made sure Boun had never forgotten his face again.

To say Prem wasn’t happy about the fact that Boun had gotten the role of his own character’s love interest was an understatement. Whenever he thought of the upcoming shootings, the obligatory media appearances where they had to act all lovey-dovey and friendly, the skinship and the affectionate glances… he felt something bitter on the tip of his tongue. As though, his achievement meant less now that the older boy was a part of it, too.

He seriously didn’t understand what had convinced the casting director that they were a good match with Boun when Prem himself couldn’t have pictured himself even holding his hand, but it wasn’t like a rookie actor could have complained about such (outrageous) decisions. A part of him was also convinced that if he had spoken his mind, if he had put his concerns and disappointment in words, he would have lost his chance to play the challenging role of Team in UWMA as they would have immediately looked for a more suitable co-star for Boun.

Why would they have chosen to side with him when they had someone from the celebrities’ booth under their wings?

This conclusion turned the juice sour in Prem’s mouth when following behind P’Paaty during their nth workshop, he refused to interact more with Boun than it was absolutely necessary to keep his place in the cast. He was never hostile. And he put extra effort into his acting so that Team’s slowly forming bond with Win would have looked believable, but once the director called for a break, he refrained himself from any intimacy let it be physical or emotional. Unlike others such as Fluke and Ohm who were playing the main leads, Prem didn’t share personal stories about himself and his family with his co-actor and neither did Boun seem too eager to tell the younger about his childhood, his dreams and motives. 

They were lovers on screen and strangers when the attention wasn’t on them anymore.

It wasn’t how Prem had imagined his first role in a BL drama - or in any show to be honest. He must have been naive for thinking: every couple maintained a friendly relationship when the cameras weren’t rolling.

He was naive for thinking that actors weren’t playing roles in front of their fans, too, just to gain a bigger fandom and earn a name for themselves in the industry through these faceless people’s blind support. Despite its misleading name, fan-service wasn’t only for the fans. It was for the sake of the actors’ career, too. It was pure mutualism; the symbiotic relationship in which both parties benefited. Or so Prem would have liked to believe that it wasn’t just them living off on the young and manipulable.

It was P’Kae’s familiar voice that pulled the boy back to reality and he immediately snapped his head in the writer’s direction, keeping a neutral albeit respectful face despite the boy who was standing next to the woman.

‘I promise I’m not here to reprimand you,’ she started and her calm tone and friendly smile made the younger one believe that she hadn’t walked up to him to scold him for acting on his own instincts regarding his character.

Prem watched as P’Kae turned her head towards his co-star and adjusted her position so that she could have looked at them both at the same time. The whole situation felt a bit unnerving, how it almost felt like the world was moving forwards in slow-mo, but the boy tried to keep his composure and not panic when he stole a glance at his senior and their wary eyes finally met. It seemed Boun was just as clueless as Prem, which should have been reassuring, since it meant Prem wasn’t the only one who was kept in the dark. Yet, somehow, the realisation was as nerve-wracking as it was relieving.

‘You guys have to act together. Please, talk to each other more,’ P’Kae pleaded and the laugh that was scratching the back of Prem’s throat almost found a way to the surface. Oh. So they weren’t about to threaten him to follow the script word by word from now on if he had really wanted to keep his job. P’Kae hadn’t brought Boun along to remind him which one of them would have stayed if he had kept improvising his gestures or to ask the senior to show Prem how he should have acted better. 

The woman was simply worried about their lack of communication.

‘We will do our best, P’Kae. Sorry for making you worried with our behaviour,’ the older boy took it upon himself to apologise on both of their behalves and Prem mimicked Boun’s body language as he also pressed his palms together and bowed his head respectfully.

‘We’re really sorry, P’Kae,’ the younger one repeated and even shot a reassuring smile in the woman’s direction when she narrowed her eyes at them, a bit suspicious, but overall pleased with how cooperative the boys were.

The writer’s reaction made Prem wonder just how distant they seemed with Boun compared to other couples to worry the woman enough to take matters into her own hands, but he didn’t have much time to dwell on this matter. He didn’t, because as soon as P’Kae left them alone, Boun turned towards him with his entire body and cleared his throat, demanding Prem’s full attention.

‘Should we grab some dinner after this?’ He asked and Prem’s eyes widened in surprise due to the senior’s straightforwardness. Boun spoke with so much ease as though it was perfectly normal for the two of them to spend time together after work, but to their misfortune, every bone in the younger’s body knew it wasn’t the case.

They had never spent time together without the rest of the cast.

The mere thought felt weird and intimidating and so unnatural, it tugged on Prem’s insides in an unpleasant way. Still, he knew he had to put his negative feelings aside to not disappoint those who had put their trust in him when they had chosen him for Team’s role.

‘I mean, I’ll most probably be hungry anyway, so… sure. Why not?’ Prem agreed, earning an amused scoff from the older with his answer. He tried to pay no mind to how annoying Boun was when he had fun because of his discomfort, but no one should have expected him to pull a full 180 on the older boy so suddenly, so in the end, Prem allowed himself to scoff back at him before he turned away.

This only made Boun smile wider and Prem wished he wouldn’t have caught a glimpse at the blinding sight from the corner of his eyes. So annoying.

To say their first dinner together had been awkward would have been a huge understatement, because Prem had regretted saying yes even before they had ordered and his discomfort had only grown as time had gone by. In hindsight, it might not have been the best conversation starter to ask Boun about the Kaset Fair, but the younger boy had just couldn’t have helped himself and the realisation that his senior had really forgotten their first encounter had poisoned the atmosphere.

The second time had been less tense. They had been having snacks and ice cream, but Prem had still had a relatively hard time to open up, hence Boun had done almost all the talking. He had shared things with the younger boy that weren’t overly personal: things that Prem could have easily gotten to know about him if only he had paid attention when his co-actor was talking with others during team-building group programmes. The reason why he had become an actor, that nowadays he was interested in directing, too, and how he hadn’t believed that his current career was something that could have given him financial stability.

If Prem wanted to be honest, by their third dinner together, he was aware that Boun wasn’t as awful of a person as he had made him to be in his head. And not just because he always insisted on paying for the food with the unbeatable excuse that he was older. No. The more Prem listened, the more he understood that his co-actor genuinely cared about those around him. To an extent that was actually alarming to someone like Prem who religiously tried to avoid not only being dependent on others, but being used by people who pretended to care.

In exchange, he opened up about his love for golfing, his different dreams throughout the years - how he had been a part of a boyband, too, at one point of his life - and told Boun about the ultimate he had given himself a bit over a year ago: he had two years to either achieve something promising in the entertainment industry that he could have built a career on or find a new path that could have actually taken him somewhere in life.

Luckily, he had been chosen for Team’s role months before his personal deadline and despite playing a supporting role, the project so far seemed promising.

‘Na, I did pretty well, didn’t I? Much better than you expected!’ Boun claimed with a pout that soon turned into a smug grin as he nudged the younger boy with his elbow.

The two of them were sitting in a relatively peaceful corner of the room, munching on their lunch that had been brought for them by the staff members during shooting. Due to the tight schedule, that day there wasn’t a fixed lunch break in their call sheet when everyone could rest in the canteen. Instead, they were having a running lunch, which meant both the crew and the actors ate when they weren’t needed on set.

‘Stop fishing for compliments!’ Prem grumbled, even though the barely visible smile in the corner of his mouth made it obvious that Boun’s little dancing between their chicken pad thai and mango sticky rice had indeed entertained him.

Still, Prem wasn’t stupid enough to flatter his ego. Because if not him, who would have kept his senior on his toes?

‘Just admit you’re impressed,’ the older boy insisted, mimicking the choreography of Magic by Goblin Project with his hands and upper body. It should have been annoying, the thought crossed Prem’s mind once again, but seeing Boun’s wide, almost proud smile stirred a dozen of different emotions in him instead.

He felt shy and somewhat touched that after mentioning their band to his senior once, he had taken his time to search them up and memorise the steps.

‘Fine. I’m not not impressed,’ Prem gave in, busying himself with his dessert although he did not avoid eye contact. That would have given Boun the (correct) idea that he felt bashful due to the sudden attention on him and his unsuccessful singer career; despite how his senior was slowly albeit steadily growing on him, Prem didn’t want him to know that he considered him a friend.

‘Meanie,’ Boun mumbled, his pout too exaggerated for Prem to believe his partner wasn’t amused under the surface. The older boy might have been a talented actor, but when it was only the two of them with Prem, he never put real effort into tricking the younger. Which often made Prem wonder how could someone this cringe and touchy be so cool in everyone’s eyes.

The chuckle that escaped the younger’s mouth was so quiet, it was barely audible, but Boun sat close enough to him to feel it through their touching shoulders. Therefore, he joined the laughter with his own, louder giggles before the comfortable silence enveloped them again.

It didn’t take long until the first assistant director called for Prem as the next scene was an interior one in the school building that he shot with Sammy and Fluke, the actors who played the role of Team’s best friends. Not quite finished with his mango sticky rice, Prem shoved the plastic container in his senior’s hand and told him he could have had it if he had wanted, then bowed his head out of habit and rushed after the tall, middle-aged man.

Unlike many others, Prem didn’t have more scenes for the day. Still, he was determined to give an excellent, neat performance, so that those who were scheduled after them wouldn’t have to stay longer due to an uncalculated delay. It happened more often than most people would have assumed, but just because it was a natural part of shooting, it didn’t mean he couldn’t have tried to save valuable minutes for the rest of the crew.

Although he was bound to make mistakes - everyone was - and sometimes the estimated time for a scene was well thought out, he tried every time.

The soft trembles of Prem’s hands went unnoticed by every crew member and the rest of the cast until the stylist deemed Boun’s outfit for the next scene perfect - a plain white tee and a pair of dark soft-looking pants, nothing groundbreaking - and the older boy took notice of them as soon as he sat next to him. Not that he was trying too hard to hide how nervous he was; he believed that everyone would have felt jittery before their first kiss. Still, his senior’s attentiveness was appreciated.

‘Just tell me when it gets too much and we’ll take a break,’ Boun said, his gaze stuck on the younger’s drumming legs while Prem was staring ahead, at their reflection in the huge vanity mirror a few metres from them. They were in one of the wooden houses they had booked for the shooting. However, unlike the one in which Team would pull Win close for a drunk kiss, this one was lacking essential furniture and was full of clothes, make-up items and hairspray.

It was more crowded, too.

‘I’m fine,’ he retorted after a couple of silent heartbeats, because even though Boun’s offer was considerate of him, they shouldn’t have taken deliberate breaks just because the younger boy’s heart was drumming in his chest, throat and ears at the thought of kissing another guy.

He had known what he had signed up to when he had auditioned for the role. And it wasn’t like he had anything against Boun anymore. The senior might have been touchy and dorky, but he was a good friend and a person he felt safe and comfortable with.

‘I’ve never said you weren’t,’ the older claimed as he shifted his gaze from Prem’s legs to his face. He put his hand on Prem’s and gave it a little squeeze before he rested his head on the younger’s shoulder. ‘I’m saying we can take breaks.’

Prem let out a sigh. He was contemplating whether he should have thanked the other that he was prioritising his comfort or scold him for encouraging him to disregard the call sheet.

In the end, he did neither. Instead, he puffed his cheeks and squeezed his senior’s hand back, holding onto him until they were asked to do a quick rehearsal before rolling.

Boun was the first one to react: he stood up and pulled Prem up into a standing position as well, not letting go of him until they were in the wooden house where the cameras were almost set. As they got in position, the blond boy shot an encouraging smile in Prem’s direction, earning an eye roll from the younger that soon turned into a dopey smile.

P’Kae was monitoring them when Prem’s back hit the soft blankets and the dreaded scene, albeit without anyone else really paying attention to them, began.

“I’m lazy,” Prem recited his lines, slowly pushing himself up on his elbows, staring at Boun who kept looking down at him. “Why? Am I disgusting?” He asked, his mind slowly merging with his character’s fuzzy brain.

And so when Prem ceased to exist, Team came alive.

The shock on the younger’s face was masked by his supposed drunkenness when Win pushed him on his back again, into the sheets. Suddenly, the whole world reduced to the two of them and for a passing moment they did nothing else, but let themselves get lost in the other’s hazy eyes.

When Win’s warm lips brushed against Team’s neck: the pulsing vein that throbbed under his hot skin, the younger boy gulped to clear his mind.

“Not really,” Win claimed and that was the cue, they both knew it. Everyone around them did. Still, Prem’s hands were shaking and he fell out of character as he belatedly reached out to pull his senior’s head towards his own.

It was clumsy and out of pace, but eventually Boun’s lips landed on his and cages his lower lip with his, nibbling on it softly. Soft. The boy’s lips were softer than Prem had expected a man’s lips to feel, not that he had been daydreaming about kissing his senior too much, just to prepare himself mentally.

Lost in his own thoughts, the younger boy barely registered when his co-actor pulled away. It was the worry in Boun’s eyes that he noticed first. Then, the older boy’s soft caresses on his cheek.

‘You forgot your line. Was it that good?’ The blond boy asked jokingly and while the teasing tone of his voice made Prem scoff, he was grateful that Boun knew babying him would have caused more damage. This way, he could ground himself while rolling his eyes and push Boun off himself without feeling flustered.

‘You’re just too heavy,’ Prem complained, lighthearted but pseudo-grumpy, relieved to get to know from P’Kae that they still had a couple of minutes before the lightning crew finished the preparations.

Kissing Boun didn’t get easier immediately, but by the time the camera was rolling, Prem felt more confident. Therefore, most of the retakes the director deemed necessary were the result of the man’s new ideas and those unplanned angles he wanted them to try out.

“You’re always like this. You always fool around,” Prem recited when his character and Win came up for air after their kiss, his gaze accusatory, but weak for the man who was towering over him.

It was an intense moment. A make or break for the couple.

The tension in the air made the younger boy’s chest feel heavy.

“If I’m serious, will you promise me? That you won’t run away,” Win’s dark eyes bored deep in the younger boy’s before he leaned forwards, faces so close, the two boys’ breath mingled before their noses touched momentarily. “In this world, you can be afraid of anything, I’ll be right beside you,” Win started and Team’s entire body was buzzing with excitement and anxiety while the older boy delivered Prem’s favourite lines from the entire episode. “But you cannot be afraid of me. Do you understand?”

The silence that followed the question grew longer than it was supposed to be, but somehow it felt right. Especially when the older boy reached out for Team’s hand and slowly lifted it to his own heart.

“Especially my feelings for you,” the confession rolled off from Win’s lips and Prem decided to go with the flow since no one in the room had called cut.

Changing their position and pushing his senior into the sheets would have been more difficult if Boun hadn’t caught up with the younger boy’s intention, but during the past few weeks, the two of them had grown closer, so it came almost naturally. And it fitted so well with the rest of the scene, with their characters and how the two swimmers felt not just for each other at that moment, but themselves as well.

Longing, dread, want. They all mixed together, in their eyes, when Team promised to not run away, but begged his lover to catch him if he did.

They wrapped up the shooting sooner than Prem would have liked, however, they were mere supporting characters with Boun, so it was natural that it had felt short. A part of the boy was convinced it would have felt the same even if they had had more screen time - which was a silly and useless thought. Especially because the project was still far from being over.

The promotions of UWMA left the young boy with little time to concentrate on anything else, let alone a new series, but he wanted to make use of the sudden popularity he had gained with the show before his fifteen minutes of fame ended. He feared the moment the public forgot about Team as he was still a newbie actor, hence he couldn’t put forward too many successful roles that could have convinced other directors to work with him.

So he might have messed up and had forgotten to eat or drink before one of the interviews he had with Boun because he had gotten too lost in the script that his manager had gotten him for consideration, but Prem seriously hadn’t noticed he was starving until it was too late.

The cameras were already rolling. They had been rolling for a while by then, actually.

‘What are the secrets you know about each other, but others don’t?’ The woman asked, the answer of her previous question lost somewhere in the white noise that rang in the boy’s ears. He felt dizzy, but he refrained from reaching out to Boun and seeking support in his presence.

The older was already doing enough, keeping up the conversation on both of their behalves.

‘I know a good one!’ Boun started, nudging his partner with his shoulder lightly to pull him back to the present without being too direct about his intention or worries. It was clear, at least to Prem, that his senior didn’t want to put him under the spotlight, but that he wanted to know he was alright and with them. So the boy shot a small albeit reassuring smile in his direction. Still a bit doubtful, Boun’s gaze loitered on Prem’s features briefly before he turned back towards the woman and the crew. ‘Prem sleeps with the lights on. He keeps the lights in front of the bathroom on,’ he shared, his eyes turning softer immediately when he swung his arms over younger’s shoulder, teasing him with exaggerated, cooing noises.

Prem felt too tired to push him away or pinch his side with just enough force for the older to pull away on his own.

But he still resisted the urge to lean into his body and let him support a part of his weight.

‘He does?’ The woman asked, her giggles ringing in the younger boy’s ears. ‘And how would you know that?’

Prem had the answer; it was on the tip of his tongue, really. It would have been so easy to admit that he had slept over at Boun’s place after a particularly draining workshop, then tease the older with how whiny he had gotten when he had refused to turn off the lights. The boy was confident that their fans would have loved the story. Yet, Prem’s mouth felt dry and his mind a little fuzzy while he unconsciously leaned against his senior.

He could feel the muscles in Boun’s body tense when the other pulled him against his side with a firm hand on his hip.

He should have been smarter and eaten before the interview.

‘That’s a secret for another day,’ Boun joked, his intention to gain everyone’s attention in the room nowhere near as smooth as he must have believed. Still, his silly albeit considerate attempt tugged the corners of Prem’s lips upwards.

The boy tilted his head backwards to be able to look at his senior’s face and when their eyes met, he shot a grateful smile in his way that he regretted only a little when he was reminded of the interviewer’s presence. Because the woman clearly misunderstood the gesture or was too eager to misunderstand it on purpose.

‘Na?’ She cooed before she clicked her fingers with a knowing smile as though she had just discovered something groundbreaking. ‘That explains why K’Prem looks so tired today,’ she stated, clearly making fun of the younger’s pale complexion and the concealed bags under his eyes.

Lacking a good retort and energy to deal with the question politely, Prem let out an awkward laugh and shook his head. He wasn’t about to start a scandal, acting rude and disrespectful, but it would have been a lie to say he wasn’t afraid of the potential tsunami this live interview could have started. What if their fans had taken his flustered reaction the wrong way and genuinely believed that there was something real going on between Boun and him? What had this woman been thinking?

Prem heard the growling sound that came from his right first. Then, he realised that it was his senior who failed to contain his anger. It wasn’t a particularly new phenomenon that Boun’s protective instinct kicked in when it came to Prem, but it was definitely new that it happened in front of cameras. Thus, Prem needed a moment to put himself together and think through his options.

He could have denied the implication in his usual, blunt manner, but that opportunity might have been already out the window due to how long it had taken him to organise his thoughts. He could have also diverted the topic, but seeing the fire in the interviewer’s eyes, Prem had a hunch that the woman wouldn’t have let go of the current one without a fight. And he was too tired for that, which meant that he had to approach the situation from a different angle.

He had to calm Boun the hell down.

In hindsight, pinching the older in his side was a very stupid idea, but Prem was running short on time and there was no way he could have hugged him from behind like he usually did on set. That would have only added oil to the fire.

‘Won’t you tell them why I look like a zombie today? As K’Joy kindly implied,’ Prem asked, his voice a bit on the raspy side due to the lack of use. It took everything in him to maintain a somewhat teasing attitude when all he wanted was surrender to gravity that turned his limbs as heavy as a rock. Or a pile of rock. A goddamn mountain.

The panicked yelp that escaped the interviewer’s throat was satisfying to hear, but it didn’t do much to ground the younger boy, hence Prem lost the thread of the conversation somewhere between Boun rambling about a dinner with the UWMA cast that he had no recollection of and P’Kae’s request that had left them no choice but to get to know each other better in their free time. Neither of these had anything to do with Prem’s exhaustion, but breaking down the disappointing truth for their fans wasn’t their responsibility.

If being an actor had paid so well in Thailand, there wouldn’t have been a reason for so many of them to start their own brand after their debut. Likewise, just because they had a successful project behind their back, neither Boun, nor Prem had a stable footing in the industry.

Acting might not have been as challenging as working on a boat in the middle of the sea, but they also had to work hard to earn their place, to earn money.

They also had to decide whether they put in extra effort to be able to chase their dreams or slept a couple of hours more.

‘It was a pleasure to meet you guys. I think I can confidently say we all wish you a successful comeback in the near future. Until then, please give a lot of love to Until We Meet Again,’ the woman’s professional outro echoed in Prem’s mind before he felt a pair of firm hands on his upper arms and someone turned his body a few degrees to the right.

‘When was the last time you ate? Did you forget to bring a water bottle with you again?’ His senior asked and Prem let out an amused huff when the older took his face into his hands, the soft pads of his fingers doing wonders to his tired skin.

‘Breakfast,’ Prem admitted without agreeing with the obvious. Clearly, he still needed to get used to carrying a water bottle with himself when he knew he would have a long day. But it was more difficult than Boun made it to be. Building new habits was always difficult.

‘Your next schedule?’ Boun asked, his voice neutral despite the worry that was evident in his eyes. A part of Prem wanted to apologise for messing up their interview so badly, but another part of him knew his senior didn’t need his apology. He simply wanted Prem to take better care of himself.

‘In two hours, but it’s on the other side of the city,’ he informed his partner who processed his words with a firm nod and let his hands fall from Prem’s puffy cheeks to his shoulders, then back by his own sides.

Although he deemed himself an independent person, Prem let his senior pull him towards the changing rooms and didn’t complain when Boun claimed he would accompany him to the audition of the new series he was eyeing. He knew even his manager wouldn’t have a bad word about it as the old man found the blond actor a respectful nong who was caring and trustworthy. He knew Boun wouldn’t have tried to sabotage him and if anything, he would have cheered Prem on even if he had performed poorly.

But Boun was determined to do more than that. He ordered food at the location of the casting and made sure Prem was well-fed and hydrated by the time it was his turn to act out a part of the script. He encouraged him and chatted the minutes away to take the younger’s mind off the mistakes he had frequently made during practising.

He was there and in a way, it made everything a bit easier for Prem even though he knew his scolding was yet to come. Boun didn’t forget his carelessness. He just pushed his frustration aside temporarily, so that he could have prioritised the younger boy’s needs.

He always did that when it came to people he cared about.

No matter how tiring it could get, his schedule during the promotions, Prem didn’t want it to end. However, time waited for no man and the young boy obviously wasn’t an exception.

Head leaning against a firm shoulder and arms heavy from the alcohol in his system, Prem made one last attempt at reaching out for another piece of crispy chicken skin before he gave up and accepted that it was too much work.

‘You should eat some more,’ Boun’s voice came from the boy’s left while someone else let out an obnoxious laugh on his right. It took Prem a couple of embarrassingly long seconds to remember: he was out with a few members of the UWMA cast, celebrating after their very last show together.

He didn’t see what was there to be so happy about.

‘Are you even listening?’ Boun asked, this time, a little louder, although Prem had heard him clearly the first time as well. He just found it weird: answering to a statement he agreed with, but was too tired to carry out. Would it have been ridiculous if he had asked the older to feed him with some delicious, crispy chicken skin? Hadn’t the two of them been already over that point in their friendship when trivial things like embarrassment and shame mattered?

‘Maybe we should call him a taxi. He’s pretty much half-asleep already,’ Sammy said with her phone in her hand. Her eagerness, albeit coming from a kind heart, made the tipsy Prem want to scowl at her. Who had told her he wanted to go home and sleep? He was hungry and about to ask Boun to give him some bar snacks before the next round of alcohol.

‘I don’t want to,’ he grumbled, his voice barely audible because of the constant background noise at the pub and the fact that his head was hanging low, gaze fixed on his knees instead of his friends.

‘I’ll take him home,’ Boun claimed, completely disregarding the younger boy’s wishes as if Prem was a child who couldn’t make decisions on his own. If he had wanted to drink himself under the table and fall asleep in public, he had just as much right to do so as everyone else! Well, not that he had such plans for the night. But he didn’t want to leave so soon, either.

‘Are you sure, phi?’ Fluke’s voice sounded borderline amused and it confused Prem’s already overwhelmed brain. Shouldn’t he have been disappointed that their senior was leaving or annoyed with Prem for drinking too much and unintentionally ending the party for Boun so soon? In his shoes, the younger boy would have clicked his tongue, displeased, that he had needed to say goodbye to his partner before time because of someone else’s irresponsibility. ‘Text us when you’re home.’

‘I said I don’t wanna,’ Prem pressed, linking his arms in front of his chest to give emphasis to his words, but it didn’t work. No one was listening to him and Ohm even had the audacity to steal his straw basket full of crispy chicken skin as if Prem didn’t need it anymore. He was so hungry, though.

Getting up from the table was a challenge in itself, giving a wai to everyone without losing his balance an even bigger one, but Boun put the boy’s hand on his shoulder once they turned their back to their friends and supported him on the way out of the place. He kept Prem close until the taxi arrived and let him rest his head on his shoulder throughout the ride.

The boy couldn’t have told whether the traffic was exceptionally light that night or he had fallen asleep at one point during the drive, but the next thing he took notice of after giving himself to the tranquil atmosphere in the backseat was the warm breeze against his skin while they were walking towards his building. Time really didn’t want to go easy on him and stop for his sake. If anything, it was outright mocking Prem with how quickly each hour slipped through his fingers.

‘Here, you’re good to go,’ Boun said, a sigh escaping his mouth as he straightened his spine. Prem furrowed his brows in confusion just to follow the older’s line of sight for answers and realise that his shoes weren’t on his feet anymore.

They stood in front of the front door for long seconds before Boun patted the younger boy’s butt and nudged him forwards, one clumsy step closer to the bathroom.

‘If you’re too tired to take a shower, at least wash your teeth,’ Boun said with an endeared grin, drawing Prem’s attention to the importance of basic hygiene, which obviously wasn’t a new concept to him. However, it was late and the thought of undressing and dragging himself under the showerhead had never been so unappealing.

He would have much preferred to drown in his fluffy blankets.

Still, tipsy Prem was powerless against his senior who took his hand in his and led him to the bathroom. Boun made sure the younger boy was able to keep his balance after he had helped him sit on the toilet lid and held his toothbrush under the running water before he put some toothpaste on it and shoved it into Prem’s hand.

Still a bit grumpy because he couldn’t have stayed at the party, the younger boy wasn’t happy about the fact that he was treated like a baby even in his own home, but he followed Boun to his bedroom after rinsing and didn’t push the older’s hand away when he hovered over him to tuck him in. Mostly, because it meant Boun was still there, hence the night hadn’t come to an end. Not yet.

Prem’s body acted on autopilot when he reached for the blond boy’s hand, his fingers curling around his wrist firmly at the first sight of Boun leaving. His thoughts might have been a bit mushy, but he felt it in his core that he wasn’t ready to let go of the past months.

‘Stay,’ he pleaded, watching as Boun’s other hand tentatively touched his fingers and peeled them off himself. The action, albeit gentle, tugged the younger boy’s lips downwards. ‘I don’t want it to end,’ he explained, willing to show vulnerability if that gave his senior a reason to give another thought to his request. It wasn’t that they had never slept at each other’s place before. In fact! Prem was sure if they had looked into his wardrobe, they could have found one of Boun’s oversized tees there, waiting for the boy to sleep in it again.

Prem’s eyes widened in surprise when Boun leaned down to him and took his right cheek in his hand, caressing his skin softly. Even without filters, Prem had the decency to ponder: maybe he was acting too clingy, but the pillowy touch of the older’s lips against his forehead diminished all of his insecurities that started to scratch themselves into the surface.

‘I’ll be quick, I promise. Just let me wash up first,’ Boun whispered against his hair before he pulled away with a cheeky grin and grabbed a random piece of clothing from the wardrobe along with that green towel he had claimed as his on the first night he had slept over.

Prem watched him walk away, a grateful smile blooming in the corner of his mouth when he noticed that the older turned on the lights in front of the bathroom. Oh! He had completely forgotten about them, which was ridiculous. He had been sleeping with the lights on since he could have remembered. It was a huge part of his existence the way snacks were Team’s.

Prem was feeling nostalgic, his mind full of memories about the shooting and his character, when the bed dipped behind his back and his body rolled from his side to his back without any particular command from his brain. He looked up at the person who was looking down at him, weight supported by his elbows, and smiled. Boun had kept his word. He was as quick as those comic book characters with superpowers.

Or Prem was too drunk to perceive time.

‘Are you okay? Do you want me to bring a bowl or something?’ Boun’s voice came through a thick fog, but Prem was quick to shake himself out of the momentary numbness. He wasn’t sleepy. He was not sleepy. He hoped if he had repeated it enough times in his head, his body would also believe it.

His eyelids shouldn’t have felt so heavy.

‘Do you think we will have other projects?’ The younger boy asked quietly, determined to fight the tiredness in his bones at least for a little longer.

‘Together or in general?’ Boun answered with his own question, making the boy realise there were more than one option. Up until this moment, his thoughts zeroed in on only one of them, the one that made him more comfortable and less stressed about what ifs. What if the script had pushed him out of his comfort zone too much? What if the cast members hadn’t been as welcoming as their little UWMA family? What if his new partner had only liked him in front of the cameras?

Prem turned his head to the left, watching as Boun fixed the fluffy blanket over them so that it would cover the younger more, from his toes all the way to his chin. He acted like Prem’s mom when she wanted to make sure her son didn’t catch a cold during monsoon season and the resemblance made him chuckle. Especially because they had had an entire week without rain. The weather was rather warm despite the late hour.

‘Together. I want to work with you again, phi,’ he answered, convinced that even if his acting had improved over the years, he wouldn’t have been able to feel as comfortable kissing another man as he was when it was Boun who was touching him. Because when it was him, Prem knew he would have never gone overboard for the sake of the show without consulting with him in advance. 

‘Dunno. I was actually thinking of becoming a director. You know, since I’m already a bit old for a rookie,’ the blond boy admitted, his tone casual yet practical like he didn’t have many regrets and those he had didn’t hurt him much. Meanwhile, what he was saying shook Prem’s entire world with the force of a bullet train.

He sat up quick enough to make his head hurt and turned towards Boun with his entire body, palms finding a home on the older’s upper arm.

‘What? No, you can’t!’ He said, panic creeping its way into his entire being. Prem had known that it had always been an option that he might not have had another role like Team. He knew the public could have forgotten about him before he could have really made it. However, not having Boun at least as a fellow actor? That had never crossed his mind. ‘You need to keep acting so we could work together again,’ he pleaded, throwing the remnants of his inhibition and dignity out the window.

Prem’s eyes were teary - and later, when sober, he would definitely blame everything on the alcohol that amplified his stress -, when Boun reached out to him and fixed his messy hair. The palpable gentleness of the gesture made the younger feel as though he was about to be lectured on how certain aspects of Boun’s life didn’t necessarily concern him, so he swatted his senior’s hand away and turned his head to the opposite direction. 

He didn’t want to hear it, because then he might have actually accepted that the blond boy was right and he was acting ridiculous.

‘I’m serious. You can’t leave me alone,’ Prem mumbled, the sound quiet and whine-like even though he was trying his best to not act more pathetic than he had already felt.

The silence that embraced the boys was heavy with tension before Boun pushed himself into a sitting position and put both of his hands on Prem’s shoulders. He turned the younger boy towards himself and waited patiently until he looked at him.

‘Fine,’ Boun said, his characteristic, endeared smile giving the younger hope and tugging on his heartstrings at the same time. ‘If we come across another chance to play a couple, I’ll be there for you. Right by your side.’

‘Promise?’ Prem whispered, earning a nod from his senior. ‘Always?’ Another nod followed without any hesitation. ‘You would stay? For me?’ The third and the fourth nods urged Prem to launch at the older, kicking the air out of the blond boy’s lungs with his speed and the force he clinged onto him.

They stayed in that clumsy hug until Boun’s caresses on the boy’s back made Prem believe that he wasn’t dreaming, then the older tucked him back under the blankets and pulled his head atop of his own chest.

Like this, finishing their first project together didn’t make Prem so anxious anymore that it kept him awake for hours. Instead, he felt protected in the present and excited about the future as he fell into a dreamless sleep.

the end.

[leebrontide]

Secondhand Origin Stories, Chapter 13

Here's this week's chapter! Reblogs welcome!

For those of you just joining us, I'm posting a chapter a week of my free near future scifi/low neon cyberpunk YA/NA novel, Secondhand Origin Stories, which has been described as

"-a character driven, compelling story full of family, queerness, corruption, brain altering nanites, secretly teen parenting AIs, and taking aspects of the superhero genre to their very human and rarely-explored natural conclusions."

For an index of already uploaded chapters that hopefully I will remember to update, content warnings and more, check here:

You can follow along by following #SHOSweekly

Chapter 13

Opal had no idea how to bring up the day’s revelations to the tower kids. Yael wasn’t even back yet, but Issac was absorbed in his tablet, obviously hard at work for his evil overlord, with a stack of energy drinks on the coffee-table-slash-trunk. Jamie was perched on the back of one of the couches, watching the news.

Opal didn’t know what to do, so she settled on pulling out her gym clothes. They needed washing. Somewhat urgently. She’d have to head back to the laundromat soon. 

Did she even need these? If she wasn’t going to be a superhero, she didn’t need to train to fight. 

Plodding footsteps heralded Yael’s arrival, sweaty and slouching so badly xe was almost a normal person’s size. Xe closed the door behind xyr, then slowly lay down on xyr back on the concrete floor. “I hate heat.” 

Jamie climbed over the sofas towards xyr while Issac got up and went to the fridge. Opal cocked her head to the side. It was completely gross outside. But-- “Don’t you have literal ice powers? Like, aren’t you pretty much immune to heat?”

“Only when my exoskeleton is out. Otherwise, heat is my nemesis.”

“I thought you said cars were your nemesis.” Yesterday, xe’d had to ride here in the back of Aldis’s truck. Xyr larger-than-life frame didn’t fit in the cabin. 

“Heat. Cars. Also diet pop and actual evil.”

Issac strolled over and handed a huge Gatorade to Yael, who took it wearily. Well, if Yael’s genetic lineage was secret, xe couldn’t walk around all silver, could xe? Even if refraining meant risking dehydration or heatstroke or something. 

Yael shoved xyrself up, leaving a surprisingly complete puddle, and chugged the whole drink in one go. Oh, the joys of Midwest summers. Xe lay back down, and turned xyr head towards Opal. “I need a pizza and a break before we train. Ugh, I miss the pool.”

The VIP suite itself was fully air conditioned and humidity-controlled-- the building housed delicate antiques, and any VIP suite residents got the same thing as a fringe benefit. Yael would cool down soon. There was a bigger concern. “Do we need to train?”

Yael looked at Opal, and then sighed, closing xyr eyes. “Well, I still need lessons…?” Everybody looked at Issac.

He made a face. “You guys can obviously talk to me with the contacts in. Why would you bother?”

Jamie answered. “Because you obviously hate them. Plus, you can’t wear them all the time. I don’t think you should be sleeping in them.”

Oops, had he been? She hadn’t noticed. He seemed like someone who didn’t read the instructions. “Oh, you should definitely not be sleeping in those,” Opal agreed wearily. “One eye patch is cool. Two eye patches, less so.” 

Yael piped up with a serious tone from xyr floor puddle. “It has puns. American Sign Language has built-in puns.”

“I am not tempted by puns,” Issac objected with an attempt at contempt.

“Liar,” Jamie answered promptly.

Ah-ha. So puns were the key. “The sign for ‘pasteurized’ is the sign for ‘milk’ passed in front of your eyes.” She demonstrated. He tried so hard not to smirk. Bless his heart.

She liked these guys. Even Issac. That made this all that much harder. “Look,” Opal continued, “I’ll help if you want, while I’m still in Chicago. But it’s up to you.”

Jamie, who unfortunately was still adorable by the bright light of day, watched her sadly. “You’re really leaving?”

Yael put xyr hands over xyr eyes and made a rough and sudden noise of frustration. Opal startled. Issac scowled, probably trying to figure out if his contacts were mistranslating or not. Jamie leaned over the back of the couch.

Yael sat up with a sweeping gesture. “But you’re good! You’re brave and selfless and moral!” Xyr voice was raising, and xyr eyes looked suspiciously shiny. “If you’re quitting--”

Opal was beyond startled by Yael’s vehemence. “It doesn’t mean you can’t--”

“Yes it does! You’re a real hero! You were gonna fight Ezekiel, by yourself with no support, to save a girl you didn’t even know! If you think the APB is too corrupt-- and you know more about what they’re doing than I do--”

Well, one benefit of giving up her lifelong dream was that she wouldn’t have to worry about how mad Helix would be if Opal accidentally talked Yael out of being a superhero. LodeStar had been waiting for Yael to replace him. Now, maybe xe never would. Opal hoped she hadn’t just made things worse.

Issac attempted to console his sibling. “Yael, you’ve been studying the APB since you were like eight.”

“But I didn’t know anything about the prison, not really--”

“The prison,” Issac interrupted, standing a little straighter, “isn’t exactly what it sounds like.” He shot a challenging look at Opal. “They hired me-- and at a very competitive rate, by the way-- to help with rehabilitation.” He looked at his siblings. “You know what that brain injury did to Jenna. Lasansky wants to treat the inmates with head injuries, so they can go back home. Be safe to join society.”

Bull. Shit. “Nuh-uh. No way,” Opal challenged immediately. “They don’t give a crap about the health of the people stuck in there.”

“They care about recidivism,” Issac answered with a tinge of triumph he had not earned. “Preventing second offenses.” Such bullshit.

Yael dragged xyrself back up unenthusiastically. “Nodiah does care about that. He was so angry about the pilot having been recently released early from his sentence.”  

Opal’s mouth dropped open. “Early release?” Opal repeated. “That’s-- they never even do that!” She’d never heard of anyone getting out early. If anyone should qualify for that, it should be her daddy. Her nails dug into her palms.

Yael tilted xyr head to the side. “Really?” Opal nodded stiffly, and xe frowned. “But the pilot…Eustus whatever-his-name-was…he was released early. And he has to have come from the Detroit prison.” Yael’s eyes went wide with horror. Xe looked at Issac. “Could Lasansky afford a jet?”

Opal didn’t wait for Issac to answer or to figure out what Yael was talking about. “Yes. They make a fortune off government contracts and prison labor. They’re loaded.”

Yael took a deep, slow breath, gears clearly turning in xyr head. “OK. Nodiah told me Lasansky is a suspect. For something. He’s being investigated-- I thought it was because he’d hired Issac-- but he had access to the pilot, he had access to a jet…what if Nodiah thinks he’s the mastermind behind the attack on the tower?”

“The news said they couldn’t figure out how the pilot had access to a jet,” Jamie added cautiously.

Opal looked at Issac-- the one injured, and the one working for the maybe-suspect. Issac was already shaking his head, but one hand was drifting up to his ear, and he looked haunted. “No. No, guys, you’re being paranoid. Lasansky’s got no reason to want to blow us up, or deafen me, or any of this. Without superheroes, he’d be out of a job. None of you even trust Bridgewater. Even if Bridgewater does think that, it doesn’t make it true. If more people are getting put in prison than they should, it’s on Bridgewater, not Lasansky.”

As if it had to be one or the other. Opal looked at Yael. “What did Bridgewater actually say when he saw you today?”

“Mostly it was a bunch of stuff about needing to look good in front of people and…”

“And?”

“…and making sure to separate Issac from Lasansky before--” Xe winced. “Before he gets too much blood on his hands.”

Opal felt a chill. 

Issac snapped, “I am trying to help people!” Opal jumped. She recognized his defensive, angry posture from when he yelled at his mom. This really got under his skin. He almost looked on the verge of crying. And since he wasn’t planning to use his creepy tiny robots on himself…he must really be thinking about what they could someday do for other people. Jamie put a hand on his shoulder. 

So Issac was trapped between two powerful men who Opal loathed. The demonstrably horrible jerk who profited off of other people’s forced prison labor, and the demonstrably horrible jerk who was funneling people into Lasansky’s hands. But it didn’t make sense. “Why would those two even be fighting? They’re a perfect parasitic match.”

Her answer came in disorienting surround-sound from all their phones and tablets. “I have an idea.” It was Martin. “The APB just released some press about a new bill being proposed by Secretary Bridgewater on Monday. He is calling it an ‘anti-recidivism’ measure, and it’s aimed at reducing the number of superheroes and prison beds required.”

“What’s the bill?” Jamie asked.

Silence. Issac frowned. “Martin? You there?”

Martin was quiet, apologetic. “It’s a ‘reform’ to sentencing laws for altereds. It…would make any violent crime eligible for the death penalty. In some cases it could be retroactively applied.”

Daddy. It felt like being kicked right through her ribs.

Officially, he was “dangerous.” A violent criminal. No. She felt a crashing tsunami-swell of anger as she spun towards Yael. “Your uncle’s trying to kill my dad!” She knew this wasn’t under Yael’s control. That the feeling of betrayal welling up inside her was unfair. Yael didn’t even go on the defense. Xe just stood there, shoulders slumped-- looking as helpless as Opal felt, but without matching Opal’s fury. 

Opal didn’t know what to do with her rage. She could see the glinting reflections of the fear, anger, and pain lighting her skin refracting off the tears in her eyes. She’d come here to protect her dad and the others like him. Now things were getting even worse, and she couldn’t do anything about it.

She’d been planning to give up, and this was what happened. She’d been so busy worrying, she hadn’t even had time to feel ashamed yet of giving up on him when she gave up on being a superhero. 

She hadn’t thought his life was on the line. Not like this. 

A butterfly-light touch connected with Opal’s shoulder. Jamie, offering an invitation with an open arm. It gave Opal a path to move along. Jamie was still sitting on the back of the couch. She folded herself around Opal in a protective embrace. Opal tried to get herself settled, but really, she didn’t want to let go of this anger, or this fear. They were real and just, and she wouldn’t recognize herself if she couldn’t feel pain like this. Opal could feel a fast, fluttering heartbeat in Jamie’s neck. Jamie, upset by the injustice, or by Opal’s pain. Opal didn’t care which, in that moment. She put one hand on Jamie’s back and pulled her closer. Not to soothe, but to center herself. To feel she wasn’t the only one feeling. Jamie held her tight.

What would happen when Shani heard about this? Or her mom? Did Daddy know?

Issac’s nanites were supposed to affect Issac’s hearing. And they were supposed to go to Lasansky. Who would they test them on? She didn’t think for a second they cared about head injuries. She didn’t know what they wanted them for. But her deaf daddy would make an obvious target for testing. For them to pretend they were helping. Never mind that Daddy wouldn’t want that help. That he didn’t want or need to be fixed. 

They said Issac’s nanites had almost killed him. Who would be there to save her dad?

“It’s just a bill--” Issac started. 

Opal drew up out of Jamie’s arms to whirl on him. He flinched and put up his hands, but he held his ground. “I mean it’s not a law. Not yet. People will be fighting this. Lasansky will be fighting this.”

“You think he cares? Do you know how many people die in there--”

Issac shook his head vehemently. “He gets paid per prisoner. This could wipe out his business. You don’t have to trust him at all to trust that he cares about his bottom line.”

“That’s motive,” Jamie interjected, as if the words startled her. “Bridgewater was in our house, the morning of the attack. We weren’t the target. He was. To keep him from proposing his bill.”

“Exactly,” Martin agreed.

“But Nodiah is fine,” Yael objected. “If Lasansky had tried and failed to assassinate him, then why is he still here, hiring alienated bioengineers instead of getting away?”

“Overconfidence? Greed?” Jamie suggested.

“Or he still thinks he can get it to work.” Opal looked at Issac. “Which would mean he has a new plan. Probably one that involves a desperate and alienated bioengineer.”

“Firstly, everybody stop calling me that. And secondly, he hasn’t asked me to kill anybody, I promise.”

“Hasn’t he?” Jamie asked. “Issac, your nanites. They almost killed you.”

“But they didn’t.”

“Because I was there. But if you wanted to use them to kill somebody, wouldn’t they be perfect for it? Nobody at the clinic could find any trace of them. Even after I told them what happened.”

He looked down at his tablet, which Opal now realized had that stupid little thumb drive she’d given him plugged into the side.

“Perfect for assassination,” Yael agreed, darkly. 

Martin surrounded them again. “With a little modification they could mimic stroke, cause a coma, or even dementia. I suspect a little further development could make them ideal for torture.”

Opal felt sick. “So you just handed a perfect murder weapon to him.” And Opal had handed it to Issac. Oh, God. She’d made it worse. She’d made everything so much worse. She’d just been trying to help out.

Her attention was glued to Issac as he slowly pulled the drive out of his tablet. “I haven’t sent it yet. I was still securing the connection.” He looked haunted. Good. Let him take this seriously. He looked up. “I actually do care about safety. I do get that-- I just wanted to help people!”

What could she say to that? She really did think he wanted to help. He was naive, but he wasn’t cruel, and he seemed to try not to be careless. She held his eyes with her own. “Then you can help by making sure he doesn’t get that data.”

“This is all speculation,” he answered, glancing away. She bit her tongue. He wasn’t really arguing anymore. He was just turning the drive over in his hands.

“We need more information,” Jamie agreed.

The fight went out of Yael. “He’s being investigated.”

“By Bridgewater,” Opal growled. So, great, even if they beat Lasansky, the APB would get the thumb drive. The same APB that was trying to kill her daddy.

Opal hadn’t realized Jamie was still holding on to her until Jamie’s hand balled into a fist on Opal’s sleeve. Jamie’s voice was quiet, but solid. “Then we should do something.” 

Jamie had suddenly turned Opal’s despair into something else-- something fragile, bright, and terrifying. They all knew this moment from every story about every hero. The moment when you decided to be a hero, or a bystander. To commit completely or walk away. Either way, she’d have consequences to answer for.

If they did this-- if Opal did this-- she’d be making herself vulnerable to the same vigilantism charge that lost her her daddy. The same charge that might cost him his life. Even if they won-- even if they saved the day, Opal could still wind up dead. Dr. Tillman promised Opal legal protection. But that was conditional on Opal guarding her kids. Joining them to guard others-- that was no guaranteed pass. 

But these three were who she had here. Jamie was tiny, Yael had already attacked one superhero, and Issac was the root of this whole thing. The four of them weren’t exactly the Sentinels, but she trusted that each of them cared about doing the right thing. And at the moment, the right thing was about protecting Issac’s invention from evil usage, and exposing Lasansky.

It was what Opal had already pledged her heart to. Just like her daddy, she had to do the right thing, and hope her family would forgive her if it all fell apart.

“We have the data,” Opal said. “We have the thing Lasansky wants, the thing that has to be kept out of the wrong hands, right here. Nobody else has that.”

Issac looked down at the flash drive. He looked sick. “Bad guy bait.” 

Opal nodded. “Maybe I’m not going to be a superhero. Maybe none of us are.” She glanced at Yael, who said nothing. “But I don’t trust the APB and I don’t trust Lasansky. I trust all of you. And I think, together, we can make sure this ends here. That nobody else has to get hurt. If you’ll help me.”

“I’m in,” Jamie said immediately. Opal put her hand over Jamie’s hand, still on Opal’s arm. Jamie wasn’t altered, but conviction and courage had to count for something. And Jamie had both in spades.

Issac messed up his hair. “Oh, this is so stupid... Fine. I’m in. If I’m going to tank my career at eighteen, at least I’ll be sure my tech doesn’t hurt anybody. Else.”

Just Yael left-- the one with the most to gain from the APB. The strongest of them. Xe watched the thumb drive in Issac’s hand. Xe was silent for long enough, Opal started to wonder what Yael would do if xe decided not to go along with this. Would xe call Nodiah? Yael’s voice was quiet and xyr hands gleamed silver when xe answered. “Superhero or not, I want to protect people. If we can do what the APB can’t, what our family can’t, then I’ll do what I can.”

“Then I think I have the start of a plan.”

* * *

Jamie set up the tablet on the coffee table and sat back on the couch. She should make the call before she had a chance to second-guess.

She never had called home, this morning. Apparently, this was the push she needed.

If Mom was talking to her, she would tell Jamie that she was in a strong position to negotiate right now. Dad had to have realized he'd messed up. He had to know he’d crossed the line. 

Did he think Jamie had crossed the line, too?

Jamie glanced over to Yael, who was stretching on the concrete floor. Preparing for a fight. Yael wasn’t mad at Jamie, as far as Jamie could tell. But Yael hadn’t actually gotten hurt.

Opal leaned a hip on the back of the couch. She looked grim, with violets and green flashing in her skin. "Couldn't you call Capricorn or Helix instead? I think that’d be easier."

It would be easier. But it wouldn't get the questions Jamie needed answered, answered. "It'll be fine," Jamie assured, her voice hollow. "Besides, he's in charge of the team." 

Opal chewed her lip and leaned over the couch. “I hate that I’m the one telling you guys this…but according to Capricorn, LodeStar isn’t in charge anymore. He’s a figurehead. Capricorn says he’s been giving the orders for a while, now.” Jamie frowned as Opal licked her lips, looking at each of them. “He said that the reason LodeStar’s so messed up is because his joints are pretty much destroyed. Even before yesterday, his shoulders and spine and everything were a mess. And he’s taking serious narcotic painkillers pretty much non-stop. My mom told me that for that to work on someone with an altered’s metabolism, he’d have to be popping them like candy to keep them in his system.” She shifted, uncomfortable. “I thought that you all deserved to know.”

Jamie’s mind went blank. It was as if Opal was speaking a language Jamie didn’t know. 

Dad was one of the top superheroes in the country-- a force of nature. He could shatter stone under his feet, fly, and was even immune to aging. Painkillers were for pain. Why would someone as strong as him ever need them?

But Opal wouldn’t lie. Drew would never make up something like that.

And it fit Dad perfectly, didn’t it? She didn’t think any amount of pain would make him stop. He’d never complain. He would always keep fighting, no matter what. And if he had to take something for that pain, he’d do it quietly. He wouldn’t want to draw attention to it. Just like how Issac hated the text on his eyes being visible. Don’t draw attention to weaknesses, as if they mattered. Just keep going.

No matter what.

Jamie’d known there was something. She’d known it. She never would have guessed this, but something was wrong.

Jamie could tell this was as shocking to Yael and Issac as it was to her. She watched empathy and anger brawl in Yael’s eyes. She could see Issac mentally scanning years of memory-- testing this new information against his experiences, checking for a fit.

Jamie’s pocket sighed with Martin’s voice. “Thank you, Opal.”

That put an end to any doubt. 

Jamie attempted a smile for Opal. “Thanks. I think I needed to know that.” Opal nodded back. Jamie just wished she had time to really process this before she talked to Dad.

She could call Drew, instead of her dad. Opal had just given her the perfect excuse. But that still wouldn’t get her all the answers she needed.

Jamie re-prepared herself, drawing herself up. "OK, everybody else stay out of the frame. I don't want him to get distracted."

Issac sat on his bed, knees up and elbows braced on them, glowering. "I don't understand any of this."

"Yes, you do," Jamie countered, looking back at the screen. "You just don't like it."

Her stupid heart was speeding up. Was she scared of him? No. She refused. "OK, Martin. Call him, please."

Martin put the call through. It rang. And rang.

Jamie stayed put as the others paused their preparations to turn and look as it kept ringing. As he kept not answering. 

That scared her.

She was about to tell Martin to hang up with the screen flickered on. 

At first, she didn't understand what she was seeing. Dad sat in the center of his couch, dimly illuminated by the screen of the TV he was watching her on. The blinds were drawn, and only thin slices of light sketched the space behind him. Something was off about the shape of him-- unshaven, wearing a bathrobe and pajama pants, watching her with that grave, motionless intensity. 

One sleeve of his robe hung flat, empty. The front of his robe was open enough, she could tell his arm wasn't in a sling against his chest. 

It was gone. Like Jenna's. And like Jenna's, it hadn't been designed to come off. Jamie could see black and red bruising creeping up his neck from the shoulder, and the edges of a cast’s network at the edge of his robe.

She remembered the sound of cracking. They must have taken his arm off because his collar bone was...just that shattered. His body couldn't support his metal arm anymore. In all the fights he'd been in, that had never happened before. Jamie's eyes tracked back to Yael. Yael had done to LodeStar what no supervillain had ever managed to do. 

No, that wasn't true. It was Dad's right arm, gone. A supervillain had destroyed his original right arm before Jamie'd been born. And both his legs. How many times had he been taken apart, in his life?

"Jamie," Dad said. His voice was tight, clipped. Angry? Or just in pain?

She couldn't read him, and had no idea how he was reading her. She'd have to hope words would do the job anyway. "I need backup," she told him, as matter-of-factly as possible.

She could see him try to sit up straighter. Now she knew to watch more closely. While nothing else in his face shifted, his pupils contracted in pain at the movement. "What happened. What do you need?"

"Issac took a job with Lasansky Securities International. He didn't know they were under investigations for the attack on the tower. But we think they’re trying to weaponize Issac’s nanites, and that Lasansky tried to kill Bridgewater to prevent him from introducing this new bill."

"I can be there in ten minutes--" Dad started.

"Dad, no. Listen. We have a plan. Issac is going to try and get him to confess. And we can get it on security cameras. I'm calling you because we want the team standing by just in case everything goes wrong, and to make arrests at the end. But we want you to wait, Dad. You need to give us a chance to get this done. Without the APB jumping in."

"You can't be serious--"

"Yes, I can!" she held up her gauntleted wrist. "You gave me this. This was your idea. Because you know that if there's a problem I can fix, I'm always going to try. And this means I can help. So I'm going to. Even with how you acted yesterday, I still trust you, so I called you. I didn't have to! We have Opal and Yael. We could have just done this ourselves. But we wanted you to help us make a perimeter. Because your home and your family got attacked, too. I...I know you want to help.” Even though his body wanted to quit, Dad wanted to keep going. Keep helping. Jamie understood that.

“This isn’t what I meant. I meant for you to defend yourself. Not set up a problem deliberately. The professionals can handle this.”

“Well, they haven’t yet. Lasansky is going to underestimate us. Just like everyone always does. And Issac has what Lasansky wants. If you come in before we have a chance to help, Issac might wind up getting arrested along with Lasansky.”

That was what it took for Dad to allow pain to show on his face. His left hand came up, rubbing over his face. “This isn’t what I--”

“Will you help us, or not?”

“Of course I’ll help you,” he nearly snapped. 

“Then make sure Lasansky doesn’t get away, and come in if we need you.”

“Yael and Issac agreed to this?”

Issac grunted and shoved himself upwards, stalking around to lean in behind Jamie, where Dad could see. “I made a mess, so I’m fixing it. Jeez, Dad.” Jamie felt Issac stiffen as he got a look at Dad for the first time. Hearing that Dad was hurt and seeing him like this were not the same.

Yael stayed off camera, reaching out to xyr toes, on the floor. Xyr tone was curt. “You’ve been training me for this my whole life. If I don’t protect people from dangerous altering tech, what was the point?”

Expressions too cloudy for Jamie to decipher slid across Dad’s face as Yael spoke. Even if things worked, and they all went back to make sure Martin was secure, there would still be a lot of work to do.

“What about that other altered girl? Where is she.”

Opal slid in beside Jamie, chin up and shoulders back. “I’m right here, Mr. Voss. And I wouldn’t have come to Chicago if I wasn’t willing to do what I could to prevent dangerous technology from being used on innocent people. This is exactly what I came here to do.”

Dad let out a long, low breath. “Your mother is going to hate this. I hate this. But fine. I’ll back you up.”

Everybody used to say that Jamie was just like her dad. As they’d drifted apart, she’d stopped believing it. This was what it took for her to feel that connection again.

Dad was one-armed, fresh from surgery, and probably in worse pain than Jamie had ever experienced. If he was taking painkillers that could cloud his mind, it was because the pain was bad enough to do worse. But he didn’t want to quit. He probably didn’t know how. Just like Jamie.

“Not you.” Finally, her voice sounded like she’d always wanted it to. Sure, clear, and steady. The soprano version of his. Her heart rate slowed, and something in her centered for the first time.

It was like she’d been looking in a fun-house mirror her whole life, and had just now figured out that the real world was right behind her. Dad was a mess. He was just struggling to cope. So was Mom with her missing nails, and Solomon with his hiding. And Drew, keeping other people’s secrets when he knew better.

“Dad, you’re in no shape. Send Drew and Solomon. They’ll be enough.”

In another time and place, Dad’s shocked reaction would have been funny. Not much shocked him. “I’m not going to sit by while my kids--”

“You need to take care of yourself,” Jamie said, her words rock-solid enough to quiet him, at least for a second. “You’ve been doing this for too long. Drew told us what’s going on with you. Yesterday, you stepped over the line. If you can’t control yourself, then you need to sit this out. Send the others, but I don’t want you here.”

Dad was stunned. Warm fingers interlaced with Jamie’s, and Opal squeezed Jamie’s hand, down where he couldn’t see them. Jamie kept her eyes on her dad’s.

It hurt him. But it needed saying. All her life, he’d kept Jamie from hurting herself by over-reaching. Now, he needed the same thing. Issac leaned over the back edge of the couch, and when Dad’s eyes flitted to Issac for a moment, Issac nodded, backing her up.

But he looked squarely to Jamie when he conceded with a tight voice, “I’ll send Solomon and Drew.”

Jamie nodded. She nearly hung up, right then. But guilt gnawed at her. There was always a chance this plan could go wrong, with too much left unsaid.

“Dad, I’m not sorry about pulling the gauntlet out, yesterday. But I’m not scared of you. I want you to know that.”

His eyes softened, just a little. Maybe as much as they could. “Thank you, Pumpkin. I’ll see you when all this is over.”

Jamie smiled back. There was too much to do for her to be happy, but finally, she felt like she had her dad back. “I’ll see you then.”

* *

Issac’s attention flipped to Yael as Jamie’s screen went dark. “Well, congratulations. You’re the first altered to take LodeStar out of commission for an indefinite amount of time in like twenty years.”

Xe sat up. YAEL: What?

“They took his arm off. Because you fucking shattered his clavicle.” He hated this. He hated this more than anything. The whole family was going down in flames. He wasn’t supposed to have to see this. “Maybe he’ll get a crate of his own. We can store Jenna’s with the Christmas decorations and Dad’s with the Hanukkah supplies.” 

It wasn’t fair to be mad only at Yael. He knew that. Xe wouldn’t have done that without having some kind of reason. But it was hard to face. Yael looked sick, eyeing him suspiciously. Not wanting to believe it. Xe was the only one who hadn’t seen him.

Jamie had taken on a weird, serene look Issac didn’t like. It looked too much like someone prepared to die. JAMIE: He’ll be OK. She stood up. We can worry about Dad later. He’s safe at home. We should focus on the plan.

“Aren’t you mad at him? You pointed a weapon at him.”

Jamie tilted her head, considering. JAMIE: Yeah. But he doesn’t want me to be scared of him. And now he’s actually listening to me. So it’ll be OK.

“‘It’ll be OK?’ We’re trying to lure a potential terrorist to the place we’re living, taunt him with dangerous experimental tech, and the best case scenario has me handing that tech over to the same organization that’s apparently been feeding our dad serious narcotics for years, and has repeatedly snatched limbs from our family. Where are you getting ‘OK’ from that?” Issac still wasn’t completely convinced that Lasansky was the real bad guy, since Bridgewater seemed to be even worse than Issac had imagined, but Issac still needed a lot of answers before he’d hand his tech over to just anyone.

Opal, at least, had some of the somberness Issac felt the situation warranted. And she was holding Jamie’s hand. Huh. OPAL: We can’t completely win this. This is damage control.

A Kobayashi Maru. An unwinnable fight to test your character.

The flash drive was still in Issac’s hand. He hadn’t set it down since Yael’s suspicions came up. 

He turned it over, running it between his fingers. 

“I just wanted to help people. This could still help people.” People like Jenna. Maybe people like him. 

But, unfinished, it was a lot more of a weapon than a medical intervention. 

JAMIE: Jenna would be mad you took this job. Even if Lasansky isn’t a terrorist, testing experimental tech on people who can’t leave, who have to depend on their captors for food, and medical help--

OPAL: --And who can’t always even call home. I haven’t heard from my dad since I got here. They can isolate him whenever they want, for whatever they want. You really think they’d just…be nice about this one thing, and only take willing participants?

Fuck. Jenna would be furious. Mom would kill him.

And they’d both be right. Damn it. Progress without ethics was…like the plot of 50% of the science fiction he’d ever watched, read, or listened to. He knew better. But he’d wanted to help. He’d just…trusted the ethics of powerful organizations too much.

And he’d been too afraid. Too ashamed.

He wasn’t going to put anyone else at risk over his damn feelings.

He’d come this far, in less than two years, before he was even 18.

He could always invent it again, someday. If he could create a place and an organization where it could be made safely. Where an agency he could actually trust would do the job the APB was supposed to. 

The only way to win a Kobayashi Maru was to change the game.

He got up and went to the kitchen. He made his mind as blank as he could, trying to ignore the way his heart was a staccato spasm in his chest. Just one foot in front of the other. That was all he had to think about. The drive was the bait. They needed it to lure a confession out of Lasansky. 

But they didn’t need the actual data for that.

If Lasansky turned out to be the good guy here, Issac was going to be furious at himself for this.

Issac dropped the drive into the toaster and pushed down the lever before he could second-guess himself.

A few bursts of shocked but not especially coherent text blipped up, and he ignored them. He watched the coils turn a deep, smouldering red. There was no turning back now. It was over. He didn’t have to worry about whether he could go through with it. “Sorry, partner. Maybe someday.”

MARTIN: I understand. This is better. Thank you.

That was Martin. They had nothing to prove to anybody. No ego to soothe. Just a pure desire to imagine, invent, and help.

The coils turned from red to glaring orange. The drive case was titanium. He couldn’t break it. He didn’t even trust deletion. But it had no wireless access, so unless anyone plugged it in, there was no way to tell the data’d been destroyed by the heat.

Even if this whole thing went completely belly-up, Issac wouldn’t leave behind a legacy that could be used to hurt anyone else. 

The time went off, and the toaster tried to give him back the useless husk of a thumb drive. But it had fallen into the coils. “Yael, can you dig this thing out for me? I don’t want to burn my hands.”

Slowly, Yael stood, and came over to him. Everyone was staring. 

The attention was harder to bear than watching the toaster. His eyes started to itch the way they did when there was too much liquid between cornea and contact. His nose felt runny. He sucked it up and produced the best smirk he could while Yael silently took the appliance, unplugged it, and fished out the drive with a silver-black hand. “Whatever. I’m a genius. Make something better later, anyway.”

Jamie looked proud of him, so that had to be worth something. And Opal looked less like she was going to cry, which was a relief.

“And I do like puns. And androids.” He looked at Jamie and Yael. “Think Mom’ll give me a job fixing shitty software for contacts?”

Yael handed him back the drive, and put xyr other hand on Issac’s shoulder. YAEL: Whatever happens, you’ll have us.

* * *

Yael knew that, really, most battle plans didn’t make it past the first engagement. They were more like optimistic outlines than anything.

But their plan didn’t even make it that far.

Issac had sent a rude email to Lasansky saying that Issac quit and would head home in the morning. 

Just like they hoped, Lasansky showed up in person not too long after. Just like Yael expected, he brought uniformed, armed guards. Which, for Yael, completely settled the question of Lasansky’s villainy. You didn’t bring armed altereds to deal with a concussed, unaltered string bean like Issac if you weren’t up to something.

So, all of that was fine. Yael was prepared for all of that.

The problem was the tall figure in neon orange who slumped out after the guards. If the orange jumpsuit wasn’t signal enough, Yael knew his face.

“The pilot,” xe breathed. And he wasn’t cuffed, wasn’t shackled. Lasansky was “transporting” him, but the man was obviously not a prisoner. That was more than enough proof for Yael that they were colluding.

He wasn’t as tall as Yael, but still stood nearly a head taller than the rest of them. His eyes scanned the area along with the guards. 

A real supervillain. The one who’d taken aim and knocked Issac into the sky. Who’d wrecked Yael’s home and xyr family.

Xe turned back to the garage, where everybody was in their places, as ready as they could be. Xe couldn’t see Jamie from here. Issac was slouched in a folding chair, one leg bouncing. Him being bait was xyr least favorite part of this. Xe’d sworn to protect him. Opal leaned against a truck nearby, almost casual. Yael whispered, “The pilot is with him-- no cuffs or anything. That proves it.”

It proved it to Yael. And by Issac’s suddenly red face and Opal’s stoic nod through flashing amber lights, it was enough proof for them, too. But they needed more evidence than that for an actual court.

“Yael,” Jamie hissed from her hiding place. “Silver.”

Yael shook xyr head. A lot of the plan hinged on Yael staying out of sight until after they had the information they needed. Opal, who Lasansky didn’t know, would stay in the garage to protect Issac and, if necessary, Jamie. Yael’s job was to keep as many guards as possible from getting into the garage in the first place.

It didn’t matter if xe was silver. Nobody would see xyr.

Xe slipped out the back door and ducked into a mound of scraggly shrubs to make xyr way around the building. The gravel and the bushes were impossible to move silently through, but even though it was night, there was some manufacturing noise from the other buildings. That should cover any little sounds.

Xe made it to the front just in time to see Lasansky and three guards enter the garage door they’d left open. That left five guards and the pilot at the cars. Just like Jamie predicted, they didn’t expect anyone here to put up a fight. Xe crouched in the densest part of the bush xe could find. 

Then there was a whole new problem. Xe had to wait. Just sit here, with the others out of xyr sight, watching the pilot lean against one of the SUVs with his arms folded and a distant look on his face. Xe wondered how old he was. If he was actually around Yael’s age, or if he was from an age-stable line. What sort of crime had gotten him arrested in the first place? What heinous thing had he done that would make Lasansky team up with him for the attack?

He kept himself away from the lackeys. Maybe he was higher up in the chain of command than them. He was unarmed. Either he was his own weapon, or he was Lasansky’s weapon.

Either way, Yael struggled to stay put. And the damn guards were chit-chatting so much, xe couldn’t make out what anybody was saying in the garage, even though xe could hear voices. 

Xyr muscles coiled tight. 

If it weren’t for him-- if he hadn’t started it all, xyr family wouldn’t be in tatters. Yael would be at home. Issac and Jamie would be safe. Yael would still be able to trust everyone, and Opal would probably already be a Sentinel.

Yael had killed two men in Hopkins, Minnesota, three years ago. Xe’d done it to protect Issac. Xe hadn’t wanted to. 

But it had been so easy at the time. 

It was only afterwards that Yael had felt sick. Started feeling those rippling memories under xyr skin. 

For the first time, the sense-memory of a brittle, flaking crunch followed by the sluggish ooze of cold blood didn’t repulse xyr. The instincts that knew that violence would always favor Yael projected those memories, and the wet grind of Neil’s bones, out onto the body of the pilot. Like a map to follow. How many more deaths would live under xyr exoskeleton by the end of today?

He wouldn’t be as easy, but there was no way killing him would leave xyr with that sick feeling in the pit of xyr stomach. Xe wouldn’t need to lock the memory of his death away. 

Papa said guilt was good. That killing should never be easy. That the fear of guilt kept powerful people in check. 

Yael didn’t want to be kept in check. Xe wanted to crush the villain who’d ruined xyr peace. 

Xe couldn’t stay still. Xe was shaking with rage. Xyr temperature lurched from hot to cold as xyr exoskeleton tried to cope with the heat of xyr fury. The man who’d caused it all was right there. How could xe care about some elderly bureaucrat with a real supervillain standing right there?

It was more than xe could hold in. Some tiny shift, some grit-toothed breath, some reflection off xyr skin gave xyr away.

He turned to watch the bushes where Yael hid. Yael didn’t move, but xyr mind was spinning out possibilities. See me. Give me an excuse.

His posture changed, sensing danger, preparing for the fight that was feeling closer and more inevitable every second. 

He shoved off the side of the van. Took two slow, testing steps towards the garage door. Like Hell would Yael let him get anywhere near the others. It was enough of a reason.

Yael leapt from the bushes, ready to tear the pilot apart. He moved back, and Yael didn’t register the sound of clicks fast enough. 

Xe did register the sound of gunshots. Xe didn’t realize till xe felt the air rip behind xyr that xe was the target. Xe’d forgotten about the other henchmen. 

Xe turned to dispatch them as quick as possible, but a word ripped through the air like another bullet. “Ezekiel!”

Xe stared at them. They believed it. Just like Opal, the darkly shining silver was enough to convince them that 18 years of death wasn’t enough to hold xyr birth father down.

There were still machining sounds in the distance. More signs of life. More people that might hear that name and believe it. And if they believed it, then anyone seen helping Yael would be at risk from a terrified mob.

The pilot broke rank and ran.

Jamie, Issac, and Opal were here. They needed protecting, but they also needed to not be tied to Ezekiel. Two instincts tore Yael in opposite directions. 

Xe let rage cast the last vote, and sped after the pilot, ignoring the sounds of bullets.

They raced through a labyrinth of warehouses and factories. Yael ran harder than xe’d ever run before. Every ground-swallowing step took xyr further and further away from xyr real goal, xyr real purpose, like a tether that might snap.

Yael turned a corner. It dropped xyr into a throng of trucks, crates, and warehouse workers. 

The pilot ran through the crowd-- deftly leaping over, darting through, and dodging every obstacle. His prison uniform caused a commotion. 

But Yael’s showing up caused a cacophony of falling crates, terrified cursing and evacuation commands. They instantly forgot the pilot. Yael actually paused, first to look for the pilot, then to take in all the fear and chaos xe’d caused. More than the obvious escaped criminal. 

In the corner of xyr eye, xe caught one idiot pointing a phone at xyr from inside. Xe scowled at him before xe could think about it. 

Nodiah’s warnings rang through xyr head, echoing inside xyr exoskeleton. 

This was Yael’s debut-- terrifying everybody. Looking like a monster. 

Looking like xe always had, inside.

Xe froze long enough for a few loading dock workers to find their nerve. Xe saw some of them cautiously lifting crowbars, hammers, all kinds of improvised weapons. Xe could just about make out a pitchfork. 

It was noble of them. Odds were, hardly any of them were altered. Maybe none of them were. But they saw a supervillain and a mass killer back from the dead, and armed themselves.

If xe went around them, xe’d lose the pilot for sure. If xe went through the crowd, they might attack. Xe couldn’t fight them.

Xe couldn’t cry when xe was silver. The exoskeleton locked any moisture inside it. Xe couldn’t sweat, couldn’t even bleed. 

No fighting and no avoiding. One last desperate option available to avoid civilian injuries. 

Xe pulled in as much air as heaving lungs could manage, deepened xyr voice, and tried to channel every booming command xe’d ever heard from the team. “Get out of my way! I’m after the terrorist, not you!”

Xe hoped the man with the camera was still rolling.

If only xyr voice hadn’t sounded so wrong.

But they mostly scrambled. Xe didn’t hear any crowbars drop. They cleared a path, only a few of them turned clumsy by fear. 

“Move move move move!” xe demanded, running all-out. Xe’d lost sight of him. Had to find him, prove which side xe was on--

The briefest flicker of orange, reflected off a fender facing an alleyway, gave xyr new direction.

Xe found a new reserve of energy, and sprinted after him.

Two turns later, xe had the pilot fully in xyr sights. Three turns after that, he made a mistake. 

He’d trapped himself in a dead end, with xyr blocking his only way out of a concrete and iron box. 

He turned to face xyr.

[missingn000]

HI IT’S ME AGAIN

Anyway!! to continue from my comment:

i have a huge weakness for descriptive writing and you nail (pun possibly intended, you’re welcome) it every single time with your delightful use of figurative language. something in particular that i found really interesting was the diction of injury in association with tokyo tower - it’s undoubtedly a sight nobara’s dreamt of seeing her whole life, but higuruma’s perception of the very same view is, by comparison, jarringly bleak.

okay wait i’m sorry for rambling about one (1) minute detail about what was probably meant to be a character study 💀 i love love LOVED the contrast between nobara’s hellbent insistence on self agency and yuuta’s hesitation to disobey getou’s will!! both of them want to be loved, which is of course normal for children (especially ones as criminally neglected as they are), but where yuuta embraces being saved, nobara is looking for something slightly… different. she’s never been a damsel in distress and never will be; instead she seeks “to be loved so much” that she’s “something to fight for.” absolutely banger line btw, it hit me right in the feels. IRONICALLY THOUGH higuruma has already done that!!! and intends to continue to do so!!! bc every interaction is a fight of some sort to win her approval! hell, their very first one was higuruma deciding that going against geto was worth it if it meant nobara lives to see another day, sooo……

“That’s none of your business” being the comeback Nobara defaults to is very intriguing considering… well… what the sheriff from her village said in response to Higuruma’s probing- “That’s our business.” seems like the village rubbed off on her a bit, huh. not to mention it feeds into her unyielding independence too: “it’s none of your business” -> “i can handle this on my own” -> proving both to herself and an invisible entity that she’s worth loving, goddammit

ok omg one last thing. dyou think the reason behind nobara’s decisiveness is the lack of stability (for the lack of a better term) in her life?? making her own decisions was the only way she could ever gain a modicum of control over her surroundings and that’s why she confuses support (which she never had to begin with, and would therefore be unable to recognise) for people trying to wrest her agency from her, which she would of course resist

I do apologise if literally none of this is correct because I don’t. actually know a lot abt Nobara and Higuruma’s characters or paid attention to them in canon until you worked your magic as usual LOL

Thanks for reading & have a good day!!

HI OH MY GOD I LOVE YOUR ANALYSES?? no need to apologize, they're right on the nose! with regards to yuuta and nobara, i really wanted to highlight the stark contrast between how they view getou and higuruma, respectively. to others in random chats, i've described it like this: nobara doesn't want to listen to anything her father figure says, while yuuta has a hard time doing anything but.

while yuuta and nobara were both shunned by others, they had completely different responses to it. nobara fought back against the villagers' judgmental words and isolated herself willingly, while yuuta is a people pleaser who just wants to be given love, no matter who it's from. and ahh you're right, higuruma is fighting for nobara -- she just can't see it, and he barely even realizes it himself. these two have such a long way to go

it's cool that you caught nobara's "that's none of your business" vs the sherrif's "that's our business" because it was totally intentional :D i think nobara's decisiveness does stem from a lack of stability, and a lack of overall control of her circumstances. since she's a child, she couldn't choose to just leave the village or take care of herself, so she clung to the little agency she did have and made snap decisions with little forethought, because too much rumination could lead to choices being made for her, which was not an option to her.

also you're making me ;__; i'm so honored reading my work has made you interested in these characters!! hyper-analyzing them made me more attached to them too lol