#death to the idea that you must create 'in accordance' to what is expected of you <3

[uncanny-tranny]

Something I love about art is, often, you won't be able to tell who made the piece of art - no matter what, no matter one's background, gender, or anything - people want to surround themselves with beauty, creation, something which stirs ones emotions, warmth, fear, care, and love. There's something special about that.

[otomes-world]

Six impossible things before breakfast

Little twist with sentient twst au, yes, I didn't expect this either. Masterlist with more works here

We've probably all heard the joke about "How many light bulbs does it take to (insert whatever)." Who would have thought that you would use a slightly modified version of it: how many more coincidences must happen to realize the truth.

Although can anyone really blame you for not wanting to admit that you are a bunch of colored pixels created purely for entertainment purposes? No, it even sounds nice. After all, your purpose was to create extras, a stage on which the main characters performed and shone. Those who had faces.

Did you always have yours? Could you always see it in the mirror in the morning?

Did figurative shivers run down your spine every time a faceless classmate addressed you? One of ten, hundreds, exactly the same. Have the main bunch had the same problem? That's the question you'd been asking yourself lately. Did they shrug off empty, replaceable shells, or at least for a second consider them their equals?

Perhaps the question should have been asked differently. Was this in the order of things for them, because the thought of the incorrectness of worldly norms did not flash through their heads. Or it was something simple and very banal - they did not realize that they were part of the game.

Were you special? The thought was flattering, but it was stupid to start turning up your nose. Maybe the supreme programmer, like the smart guys from Ignihyde, could consider you a virus, a bug, an annoying nuisance, which can be gotten rid of in a couple of seconds. Click and that's it, your file would be deleted.

The idea that death could be more than just literal took you by surprise.

It all started with a strange feeling of déjà vu, with a strange cyclical nature of what was happening. How the seasons did not change according to the laws of nature or, on the contrary, lasted longer than expected. Sometimes you wondered what month was going on, at least by counting. Or how you couldn’t say with certainty what year of study you were in. When was your graduation? Would it ever come?

How many times did the main characters celebrate their birthday? How many times had you celebrated it? Did you celebrate it from the start?

Lessons

Breaks

Exams

Holidays

Lessons

Was there an end to this merging stream of eternal students? Was the dormitory assignment ceremony that important? How many real “first-year students” were admitted each year? Why couldn't your educational journey end? Time adjusted and obeyed an invisible force; it existed only when it was convenient for someone.

Catching the attention of the local spotlight and getting on stage was the best way to get labeled as a "bug" and ask to be removed. However, the main threat was only the erasure of memory.

The next discovery was doubt about one’s own “specialness.” When consciousness had nothing to do, it began to cling to different details, trying to look for differences in a series of events repeated in the film.

When you knew what to look for, small mistakes that were not noticeable at first glance stand out more than usual. A slight shadow of boredom on the faces of the main ones. Lack of interest in the educational process and exams. As if only one “exam” was important in a bunch of exactly the same events. When the first years of Heartslabyul signed a contract with Ashengrotto.

With new information in mind, it became easier to identify important “events” and track time based on them. By how many times they were repeated in the endless flow of time. Taking notes and somehow recording data was more dangerous than you thought, all that was left was to come up with methods known to you alone. For example, in a dorm room on the bedside table there was a cluster of glasses, each containing specific color of pencils.

Did your roommates start to think you were weird and obsessed with order and cleanliness? Their right. You didn't care what they thought, besides, they would forget about it with the coming of a new day.

In order not to completely go crazy, you began to peer into the “faces” of other students, trying to spot at least a feature that distinguishes one from another. Either this world was too lazy, creating copy after copy in every dorm, or there was no point in trying. If you somehow came to terms with the feeling of the meaninglessness of what was happening, then the appearance of one student in several places at the same time still caused rejection.

Disgusting

If this world was someone’s experiment, then why were events cyclical? If this was a cage, then where was the exit. If this was a prison, then who was being held in it?

You made a mistake in observing a person without magic from another world. Trying to figure out whether Yuu's "world" was truly different or just as much a part of predestination as everything around. Was “Yuu” really the main one or just an extra? You could have sworn they didn't have a face. At least such clear features as all the main ones. Just as there was no character, how in each of the repeating events they could behave differently.

It was a breath of fresh air in the routine of never-ending study. The watching of the only part capable of changing in the world, subject to the same rules.

That's why, when one of the main ones suddenly approached you, you thought you were dreaming. Whether it was possible to fall asleep in the simulation was another question. Usually you went to bed, closed eyes, only to open them the next second to the sound of the alarm clock.

"Can I help you with something?" You smiled politely, but was it worth it? Could the main bunch distinguish between persons different from their privileged group.

Hunt. Was that his name? You weren't completely sure. He was part of something forbidden, something to be avoided at all costs. Part of the three “don’ts”: don’t look for information;don’t mention; don’t give yourself unnecessary temptations. Returning to the present moment, he just looked into your eyes with his constant smile, as if trying to find confirmation of something.

Like a true NPC, you continued to stand, frozen in one position and waiting for his answer. Until awareness came as abruptly as his appearance in principle. He looked straight into your eyes. Could he see your face the same way you saw it in the mirror? How long ago? Could the rest of the main ones see you too?

A billion questions were spinning in head at the same time as you tried to come up with a suitable excuse and reason to leave. The changes turned out to be too unexpected and frightening. Perhaps with the advent of a new “day” everything would return to normal.

“Is there a knight in the world who is not ready to devote all his deeds to one and only one, if this opens the veil of secrets at least a little? Will it allow him to find out what thoughts are spinning in head?”

It's a pity he was not a knight. Even though each word was pronounced with a special intonation, you only thought about how much water there was in his speech. Unfortunately, saying this out loud was an unaffordable luxury.

"..Is that so?"

“You are right, an étoile (star), I may be not one of their noble number, but even so I am not able to deny their order.” You let him continue, mentally counting down the minutes until the bell rang for lesson. “I may not have a sword in sheath, but It won`t change a way I live! Your smile can make my whole heart melt. There isn't lie in way I felt”

“I’m not good at poetry, but the rhyme is lame, Sir Hunt,” if it’s there.

“You’re right, writing poems is just one of my hobbies, to which I devote my few free leisure hours,” he continued, as if your words didn’t hurt him at all. “I hasten to assure you that there was no malicious intent in my actions. This modest hunter only wanted to greet a new connoisseur of everything beautiful and interesting."

No matter how much you hate beating around the bush, doubts creeping in from randomly thrown words. Sometimes the phrases spoken directly were the most frightening. However, not wanting to part with your role as an extra - which was burdensome, but at the same time giving a semblance of freedom - you continued to pretend to be an NPC.

"Should I congratulate you?.. Congratulations!" Any member of the film club would envy your feigned sincerity. A bell in three, two, "I don’t dare detain you any longer.”

The unsaid `like you would me` hung in the air. You had to hold out for the few remaining hours until the end. Fortunately, the main one did let you go, but smile, saying that its owner knew everything in the world, left an unpleasant aftertaste. One that your intuition suggested would accompany you for the next days.

It's going to be a very long a few hours.

[mysticstronomy]

HOW MANY DIMENSIONS EXIST??

Blog#347

Wednesday, November 8th, 2023

Welcome back,

The world as we know it has three dimensions of space—length, width and depth—and one dimension of time. But there’s the mind-bending possibility that many more dimensions exist out there. According to string theory, one of the leading physics model of the last half century, the universe operates with 10 dimensions.

But that raises a big question: If there are 10 dimensions, then why don’t we experience all of them or haven’t detected them? Lisa Grossman at ScienceNews reports that a new paper suggests an answer, showing that those dimensions are so tiny and so fleeting that we currently can’t detect them.

It’s difficult to completely explain the mathematics behind string theory without putting on a graduate seminar or two, but in essence dimensions five through ten have to do with possibility and include all possible futures and all possible pasts including realities with a totally different physics than those in our universe.

If two protons smash together at high enough speeds, they have the ability to create a tiny black hole that would exist for just a fraction of a second before disappearing, according to a new study, which hasn't been peer-reviewed, on the preprint server arXiv.org. The collision would open up a little bubble of interdimensional space where the laws of physics are different than ours, leading to an event known as vacuum decay. In quantum physics, vacuum decay implies that if the interdimensional space was large enough, we’d be toast.

With enough gravity to interact with our world, the newly formed “Cosmic Death Bubble” would grow at the speed of light, rapidly change the physics of our universe, render it uninhabitable and effectively zap us out of existence.

“If you’re standing nearby when the bubble starts to expand, you don’t see it coming,” the study’s co-author, physicist Katie Mack of North Carolina State University, tells Grossman. “If it’s coming at you from below, your feet stop existing before your mind realizes that.”

Ultrahigh energy cosmic rays are bashing into each other all the time with enough energy to start this process. If extra dimensions were large enough to allow the death bubble to form, the researchers found, it would have happened thousands of times already. The fact that we still exist is one circumstantial piece of evidence that other dimensions are ultra-tiny. The team calculated that they must be smaller than 16 nanometers, too small for their gravity to influence much in our world and hundreds of times smaller than previous calculations, Grossman reports.

The new study comes on the tail of another study about extra dimensions published in the Journal of Cosmology and Astroparticle Physics published in July. Mara Johnson-Groh at LiveScience reports that one of the big questions in physics is why the expansion of the universe is accelerating. One theory is that gravity is leaking out of our universe into other dimensions. To test this idea, researchers looked at data from recently discovered gravitational waves.

our universe was leaking gravity through these other dimensions, the researchers reasoned, then the gravitational waves would be weaker than expected after traveling across the universe.

But the researchers found they didn’t lose any energy on their long journey, meaning other dimensions either don’t exist or are so tiny they don’t affect gravity very much, if at all.

“General relativity says gravity should be working in three dimensions, and [the results] show that that’s what we see,” physicist Kris Pardo of Princeton, lead author of the July study, tells Johnson-Groh. The latest study also concludes that the size of extra dimensions is so small that it precludes many theories about gravity leaking out of our universe.

Originally published on www.smithsonianmag.com

COMING UP!!

(Saturday, November 11th, 2023)

"WHAT IS THE FURTHEST THING WE CAN SEE IN SPACE??"

[ratssmpzine]

Here are our General Guidelines for zine submissions, including general information on requirements and expected conduct, general guides for what content will be permitted in the zine, and an overview of the setting and how you can use it!

Plain text version under the cut!

General Guidelines

Participants can submit up to three works, whether that be visual art or writing. There are no limits on collaborations, however, which we will elaborate on in our Collaboration Guidelines.

The deadline for at least one of your works is December 1st. Extensions can be provided if needed, however, and second and third works can be submitted up to January 1st, which is the final possible day to submit anything to the zine. 

An email will be required so that the zine may send out acceptance and rejection emails once applications have been reviewed.

All Zine correspondence will be taking place through Discord, meaning a discord account will be required in order to participate. This also means that participants must be at least 13 years old.

Participants will be expected to behave respectfully and professionally with the other members of the zine. Misconduct or harassment will be grounds for removal.

Every two weeks the mods will run a check-in in a private thread of the discord where you will either be asked to send your potential ideas, final ideas, or a draft/wip. You won't be required to have made progress every single check-in, but we will still ask to see the draft for each so we can track how things are going.

If your work violates our content guidelines, you will be asked to alter it. However, there is ample time for brainstorming and the mods will always be available to workshop ideas with you, so we hope that everyone will be able to find something they are passionate about creating within the boundaries of the zine!

Content Guidelines

The tone of this Zine aims to be similar to that of the SMP itself, so angst or dark themes should be limited to the sort of stuff that made it into players pov! Sad or melancholy stuff is totally fine, but gore, death, and nsfw content won’t be accepted!

Swearing is permitted and if a joke would have made it into the smp, it’s probably fair game for the zine. While certain POVs of Rats were strictly family friendly, the zine content doesn’t have to adhere to those standards exactly.

Shipping and romance are allowed in accordance with canon and creators' boundaries. This means, for example, that BekEl, SniffIver, Oliver/Glowsquid, or Oli/Butler content would be permitted because all those ships were canon to the smp and ships involving Martyn, Scott, Will, Oli, or Jimmy would be totally fine as those creators have been very welcoming towards shipping content despite not entering canonical relationships. However, romantic content involving creators who have a stated boundary against shipping would not be permitted and we will be erring on the side of caution for creators who don’t have an obvious stance. 

Content of the human characters and the cameos are allowed and in fact encouraged! However, characters should be canon to Rats and players from SMPs mentioned in Rats who do not physically appear shouldn’t be the focus. For example, a piece focusing on Sneeg could mention or depict the other members of the Origins SMP, but the piece should take place in the Rats universe and those characters shouldn’t physically appear, as they were never in the mansion. Characters like Owen’s mother or Apo’s grandmother or Acho’s prior owner can similarly be referenced and included in a flashback sort of way, but because they were never in the mansion, they shouldn’t be a main focus. OCs shouldn’t be included in any pieces, though there may be a place beyond your main submission to include them. The general rule of thumb is that this zine aims to focus on the attic rats’ time at the mansion, so if a character was never there or their time never overlapped with the main rats, they should only be relevant in the minds of the characters that were actually present.

Setting Guide

All content of this zine should take place within the mansion, however that content doesn’t necessarily need to be perfectly canon compliant. You are allowed (and are in fact encouraged!) to make up events or storylines that never happened within the SMP to base your content on. Anything that happened at the mansion is fair game to use in your fanworks— ghosts, magic, portals (within reason!), and potions are all free to go wild with! While the zine will be organized into chapters that divide things chronologically based on certain canon landmarks, you should more so be considering it as something like Phineas and Ferb, where everything technically occurs within a set period of time, but anything could theoretically occur in that time period and the specifics of it don’t really matter. We encourage you to be creative with what you do! Write that ballroom event that never happened! Tell a story about Jimmy learning safety magic from the older sister! Draw Martyn starting a minor fire trying to work the oven! So long as it takes place after the rats arrive and before they leave, anything goes.

[lulu2992]

I just want to share something really quick, and I'd love to hear your two cents on this.

One of the best things about Collapse (despite its flaws) for me was the Voice not being as benevolent of an entity as Joseph initially thought. That reveal actually gave me a lot of vindication on my own personal headcanons surrounding the Voice before Collapse had been released. And it's something I don't really see talked much about, often times its brushed over really.

The Voice is manipulative, especially on Joseph, and I actually believe that the only reason Joseph was given the visions of his family alive in New Eden was so it could a) ensure Joseph stayed devoted and b) just to give Joseph a false sense of hope and ultimately laugh at Joseph's desperate attempts to keep his family (such as John) alive and for his eventual breakdown over their deaths (I headcanon that the Voice had never intended for Joseph's siblings to survive). It uses its cunningness, omnipresence and ever knowing knowledge to create and execute plans accordingly, and with just how arrogant it is, you just know it expects things to happen according to how it wants and must have a kick in watching Joseph and many others suffer, helpless to its power. It clearly knew what it was doing when it chose to speak Joseph right after his wife's death. I have no doubt that the Voice anticipated/expected Joseph to sacrifice his infant daughter, despite how the situation was presented as a test or choice to Joseph.

I don't even think it ever actually cared if 3000 souls were saved in the bunkers from the Collapse. The Voice definitely doesn't cry a river about it. It just wanted to string Joseph along and play him like a fiddle until it eventually gets bored with him. And just thinking about it makes my heart ache for Joseph even more. There was no happy ending for him from the beginning. The Voice played Joseph from start to finish, giving him moments of hope and peace (finding his family again, being right about the Collapse, New Eden, the Captain of Security's arrival) before taking it away (the Deputy killing his siblings, the post-Collapse world not being as peaceful or fulfilling as he expected, New Eden burned to the ground, and Ethan's bitterness and envy growing to corrupt and eventually kill him) because the Voice is just that cruel.

The Voice is the greater-scope villain. It planned, and inflicted pain and suffering and misery on Joseph (a devoted instrument) and everyone else around him just because it could and wanted to do it.

Collapse wasn't a DLC I enjoyed very much, but the Voice will always be a highlight for me. It's now one of my favourite "love to hate" antagonists. And it gives me a real rush of serotonin thinking about the Far Cry 5 fics I want to write that are heavily dipped in a "screw destiny" plotline just to wipe the Voice's smugness.

Yeah, that's all I wanted to get off my chest. Happy second day of 2023 (or first depending on your timezone).

I like what they chose to do with the Voice in Collapse too! Even though it’s also played by Greg Bryk, the fact that it shows Joseph his future as we’ve seen it in New Dawn indicates that the Voice is clearly not a figment of his imagination. In the DLC, Joseph had no idea what New Eden would look like, that the Deputy would become his Judge, and even that he had a son, but he saw all of that because the Voice is real and omniscient, not just “in his head”. I’ve been saying that “God” was the true villain of Far Cry 5 all along and, even if I don’t consider the Far Cry 6 Season Pass canon for many reasons, I was glad the new writing team agreed with that!

Ironically, the Voice being malevolent, choosing the highly devoted, well-meaning Joseph Seed as a punching ball for its own enjoyment, ruining his life, and never intending to keep its promises (except the Apocalypse, so the death of millions of people) can also explain several of New Dawn’s inconsistencies and why that game’s ending felt pointless. I don’t know if it was intentional and the DLC’s writers thought that “the Voice never cared about anything or anyone and did things just because it felt like it” was the best solution to make everything sort of make sense but, honestly, they’re not really wrong…

I’m not sure the Voice was supposed to be 100% evil and manipulative in the minds of the original Far Cry 5 writers, but I think Collapse was right for showing that Joseph was telling the truth, merely following orders, and that, because of his unwavering faith, had to suffer the loss of everyone he loved. I’m obviously not saying he didn’t do bad things, but it’s important to remember why he did them. Making the Voice Joseph’s guide and villain in the DLC was a great idea.

And, yes, it was the second day of 2023 for me when you sent this, so thank you very much, and happy 6th(?) day of 2023 to you :D

[wolint]

HE BECAME FLESH

HE BECOME FLESH

John 1:14

 

It’s fascinating that Christ offered his body as a gift. For this symbol to be ingrained and effective in our spiritual journey, Christ had to physically become human before he could offer up his body to become flesh for us. We all have different preferences for how we like our meat cooked - rare, medium, or well-done. However, we all enjoy our meat in a way that others may not.

The Word is flesh for us to chew on and live by, and Jesus became flesh (human) to fulfil God’s assignment and his purpose. The idea that Jesus, the Word of God, became flesh, transitioning from the spiritual, eternal, and heavenly realm of God to the mundane world of humanity, is both astonishing and wonderful.

Jesus became flesh to dwell among those he created, to feel what they feel, see what they see, experience pain, agony, betrayal, condemnation, and ultimately death. This shows us the importance of sacrifice in spiritual matters. The expectation of both an earthly and heavenly reward, as stated in James 1:12, is only possible through the flesh of Christ.

Before we can receive the reward, we must allow Jesus, the Word of God, to become flesh in us and dwell in our hearts. Until we allow the Word to become flesh, by eating, speaking, and meditating on the Word daily, we will not experience the power of the Word and the victory it contains. The Word does not automatically manifest without first dwelling within us.

According to verse twelve, we must receive the Word to exercise the right, power, and privilege accorded to us to use it as we need. Jesus’s name, Emmanuel, God with us as stated in Matthew 1:23, shows that he is more than just a mere word. According to Revelation 19:11, the spirit of the Word made flesh within us is what produces prophetic testimonies.

Have you ever pondered why it was necessary for Jesus to come in the flesh? Why did the God who created the heavens and the earth have to take on human form? It’s for Hebrews 4:15 to be fulfilled. As our high priest and faithful savior, Jesus needed to put himself in our place to fully represent us. He knows and understands what it means to be tempted in every way we are tempted daily, so he can sympathize with us, help us overcome temptation, and come to spiritual maturity as stated in James 1:1-4.

It is only when the Word becomes flesh in us that we begin to receive the revelation of the Father, powered by the Word of God made flesh, according to John 17:25-26. Meditating on the Word is vital for us to understand the Word, by following the instructions enclosed within the Word for success, as stated in Joshua 1:9. While meditating on the Word may seem insignificant, the power within the Word can destroy strongholds.

If Christ doesn’t become flesh and dwell within us, we would be unable to confess him as Christ. According to 1 John 4:1-3, anyone unable to confess that ‘Jesus Christ has come in the flesh’ is not from God and is ‘antichrist’. Jesus not only became flesh for us, but according to John 6:51, he is also the bread that came down from heaven, the living bread that satisfies the spiritual hunger of those who believe in him and have allowed him to dwell and manifest in them. Chew on the fleshy meat that Christ became for us in the Word and live.

PRAYER: Lord Jesus, thank you for becoming flesh for me. Help me to regularly partake of your flesh to become more like you in Jesus’ name. Amen.

Shalom

WOMEN OF LIGHT INT PRAYER MIN.

[tomurasprincess]

Kinktober 26: Demon (The Summoning Circle)

Day 26: Demon Title: The Summoning Circle Pairing: Kurogiri x Reader Word Count: 3.6k Warnings: Noncon, dubcon, demon sex powers, manipulation, coercion, death, orgasm denial, overstimulation, forced orgasms, mentions of past cheating (not Kurogiri), yandere Notes: Thank you to Literary Genius @burnedbyshoto​ for helping me when I was stressing out over an ending for this.

Kinktober Masterlist

You’ve double and triple checked the spell, gone over the necessary ingredients, and compared the sigils drawn on the floor to the Ars Goetia grimoire you hold in your hand over a dozen times at this point. There is no way that a single thing is out of place, no way that you’ve made even a simple mistake.

You have at least a general idea that you must be careful with these kinds of things, although you have no personal experience. According to the grimoire, if there is even one small error in the binding sigils, you will find yourself dead or worse when you summon a demon.

You’re not even sure where the book came from. You found it in your attic while cleaning and trying to distract yourself from the anger you felt towards your partner. You wanted revenge on them more than anything, and finding the book almost seemed like a sign telling you exactly how to get it.

So here you are now, attempting to summon a demon. You chose a lower ranked demon from the Ars Goetia, deciding to err on the side of caution even though you’re not sure this will work at all.

And so, with a deep breath, you find yourself chanting the Latin incantation in the spellbook, walking around the circle as you do and spreading incense. When you finish, you find yourself standing in front of a still empty summoning circle, feeling remarkably stupid for thinking this could ever work.

Until the room’s temperature begins to drop rapidly, causing you to be able to see the fog of your own breath in the cold air. All of the lights in the room dim and then shatter, scattering glass everywhere. The candles surrounding the circle sputter and flicker for several seconds before finally being snuffed out, leaving you in total darkness.

Despite the pitch black, you can see something moving in the darkness, something that looks like purple mist creeping in. There is a noise that sounds like when someone opens a window or door on a windy day and you hear the pressure of the air rushing past you.

The purple spirals upwards until it finally begins to coalesce into the shape of a man. The candles flicker back on, the flames flaring up far higher than they should be able to and causing strange looking shadows to appear on the wall. When your eyes finally adjust, you realize that there is only purple mist where the man’s head should be and yellow eyes staring at you like they see right through you down to your soul.

“You summoned me, mortal?” The demon’s voice is deep and full of amusement. He paces the very edge of the circle, and you’re suddenly very glad that you double checked the sigils, as he pauses every small step to investigate them. Checking for some sort of flaw to escape, most likely.

“I - maybe - I,” you stumble over your words and he chuckles.

“Maybe? It’s a yes or no question.”

“I did do a summoning, yes. But I didn’t - “

“Didn’t expect a demon like me?” He interrupts you before you can finish. He chuckles even louder when you simply nod your head.

“Of course you wouldn’t,” he states, “I am a high ranked demon far beyond your capabilities to summon, mortal.”

“Then how are you here?”

“I came to aid you of my own free will.” He has finished his cycle around the sigils keeping him imprisoned, turning to look into your eyes. The penetrating gaze he levels at you has you squirming, and you’re the first to look away.

“Why would you do that though?” You begin to pace yourself, nervous energy rising up in you at the unusual situation you’ve found yourself in. This wasn’t what you expected to happen, and you’re left off balance.

“Because I can feel your rage, mortal. You want to punish someone, don’t you?”

Your eyes snap back to his, and he gives a slight nod as if encouraging you to continue.

“I - do want to punish someone. My ex-partner.”

The mist around the demon’s face seems to swirl with amusement. “Let me guess - cheating?”

Your eyes widen a fraction at the demon being so on the mark. “Yes, I caught them in bed with someone else.”

“A tragedy, really. Anyone foolish enough to cheat on someone like you deserves whatever they get.”

You can’t stop the heat that rises to your cheeks at the slight bit of flirtation. “I - thank you. Is it something you can help me with?”

“Of course, mortal. Revenge is something that I am quite good at. But I don’t like to make deals through a summoning circle. Shows a lack of trust, you see.” He steps a bit closer to the edge of the circle and raises his hands up in a placating manner. “Let me out as a good faith gesture.”

Your body instantly tenses. The reasoning makes sense, but the thought of this demon being free puts you on guard.

“I’m not so sure about that one,” you say hesitantly. “The book says you absolutely should not do that.”

“What book is this?” The demon says curiously. “Surely it won’t hurt to allow me to see it?”

You can’t think of anything that he could do with the book to act against you, so you slide it across the barrier without putting your hand through.

He picks up the book and begins to flip through it, making some hums of acknowledgement as he reads the pages. He glances back at your summoning circle before turning a few more pages and finding the exact spell that you used to summon him.

“Ahh, so this is the spell you intended to cast for a lesser demon summoning.”

“I didn’t actually expect it to work at all,” you admit. “And I definitely didn’t expect to summon anything like you.”

“Anything like me? You mean an incubus?”

“I - what, I don’t - “ You stumble over your own words. Even someone as ignorant as you are knows what kind of demon that is. And it’s well over your experience level. “Is that what kind of demon you are?” You finally manage to get out.

“Oh yes it is,” he says in a rumbling tone of laughter. “You may call me Kurogiri. And what about you?”

You say your name before you can think better of it, and the demon called Kurogiri’s eyes brighten in excitement.

“This book has one thing right. A demon’s word is law. If I swear an oath that I won’t betray you, then I am bound to it. So why don’t you let me out and we can work out a deal, hmm?”

You shift around from one foot to the other while you consider things. He seems reasonable and willing to deal with you, and he’s even willing to give you an oath. All he’s asking is to not be locked in a cage. “I want your word first.”

His eyes flash with dark humor at your words. “I swear that I will not betray you.”

You feel the weight of those words settle into your chest, as if a physical bond was created. You realize this must be the oath, preventing him from hurting you, and so you walk forward and smudge the circle enough for him to walk through. He strides through confidently, eyes zooming in on you instantly. The look of malicious glee on his face causes you to inadvertently take a step back.

That expression on his face tells you that you made a horrible mistake. The air seems to get heavy as the room heats up, his power building and building. It hits you in the face like a physical force, causing you to stumble before turning on your heel to run.

But you don’t make it very far. As you grab for the doorknob, the heat of it causes you to jerk your hand back. You turn to see the demon standing in the same spot, arm raised as he beckons you to him. You take sluggish steps forward, almost as if in a dream. You can feel what’s happening, but you can’t stop yourself from walking towards your doom.

In no time at all, you’re standing in front of him, forced to look up at his face as he towers above you. You’re burning up, skin feeling too tight as an insistent throb between your legs begins. You try to turn away, but you’re frozen in place as the demon takes a now clawed hand and traces it down your face.

‘You - swore that you wouldn’t betray me.” You’re surprised to find that your voice still works.

“Oh I promise you,” Kurogiri whispers seductively, “you’re going to love what I’m about to do to you.”

And with that, a clawed hand tangles in your hair as he crashes his lips against yours. A dominant tongue slips into your mouth as his teeth bite against your lower lip. You can do nothing but stand there and let him do as he wishes, the throbbing between your legs only intensifying as you feel slick drip down your inner thighs.

He pulls away, leaving you gasping for air and your lips swollen and bruise. “What did you do to me,” you pant, finally finding yourself able to move as you squeeze your thighs together for some sort of friction.

“Just a bit of incubus magic,” he chuckles, grabbing you and lifting you easily as he carries you to the summoning circle. He lays you down on your back in the middle of the circle before taking time to undress himself slowly, removing piece after piece as if it’s a show.

You can’t help but admire how beautiful his body is underneath the fancy suit he wears. You squirm around, trying to move, to anything to relieve this fire burning through your veins. But with a smirk, he paralyzes you again before settling in between your legs. He removes your clothes next, forgoing making a show of it and choosing instead to rip them off of you.

Soon you’re laying in nothing but your panties, wet spot clearly visible through the material. “Well look at this,” he murmurs, “already so wet for me.” He glides a finger across the wet spot, drawing a whine deep from the back of your throat as he slides your soaked panties down from your hips. You’re left vulnerable in front of him, unable to close your legs as he spreads them far apart.

Your bare pussy is left completely visible to him, slick gushing out of you as he examines you. “Such a pretty pussy. I’m sure you won’t mind if I have a taste - “

He leans in to lap at your juices, groaning and causing vibrations to shoot right through you. He spreads you open with two fingers as he suckles your clit, sliding two fingers easily into your core. You’re still paralzyed by whatever power he’s using, and so you’re forced to feel everything, every action seeming more intense from your inability to move.

He increases the suction on your clit, tongue lashing and swirling against the throbbing bead and causing a moan to slip from your throat. “Hngg, please, oh shit - “

“Does that feel good, mortal?” He coos at you, curling his fingers up to graze a sensitive spot inside that draws a shout from you. “I am barely even trying yet, and already you’re such a beautiful mess underneath me.”

You pant heavily as his fingers work inside of you, tongue refusing to let up on your now aching clit. The tension is building and building, and you whine as your eyes roll to the back of your head. “Please, oh fuck,” you groan, not even sure if you’re begging him to stop or to never stop. “It feels so good -”

He lifts up just enough to take in your sweaty, breathless form, chest heaving and drool running down the corner of your mouth. “Do you want to cum?”

“Yes yes yes,” you babble mindlessly, right at the edge of an orgasm but unable to crash over. “Please!”

“Then call me your master, mortal.”

You’re too far gone to think of the consequences, the heat from within you burning through your veins. “Master, please let me cum! I need to cum so bad, please!”

He hums in pleasure, fingers inside of you quickening their pace, relentlessly smashing against your g-spot as his mouth latches around your throbbing clit again. You scream out your orgasm, juices squirting all over the demon’s face as you try to writhe.

Everything feels so sharp, so intense because of your paralysis, and you’re pushed over the edge twice more before he finally lets up. Your body is finally allowed to move, only for you to go limp as you shake and shudder.

You think things are over until you feel something hot and hard prodding at your entrance. Your eyes snap to his, eyes widening with alarm as you feel how thick he is.

“You didn’t think I was actually done with you, did you?” He flips you over, pressing your face down into the floor and raising your ass into the air as he sinks into you, inch by slow inch. You realize quickly that he doesn’t feel like a regular man, ridges and bumps running along his length that grind against your inner walls and force you to stretch around him even more.

Your fingers dig hard into the floor as you try to breathe. It hurts more than you would think, but in your lust addled mind, even the pain feels delicious.

“Does it hurt, little one?” The demon asks mockingly as you throw your head back. arching your back in a way that you can’t tell whether it’s to get away or to get closer. “I know I’m not like a mortal man, but trust me,” he grunts as he finally bottoms out inside of you, “you’ll take me anyway, and you’ll love every minute of it.”

The spines dig into your flesh, making your eyes water stinging sensation it causes. He gives you only a second to adjust before he’s thrusting, causing you to scream at the explosion of sensation.

He grips your hips as he pounds into you, forcing you back to meet his every thrust. There is one particularly large bump along his length that hits a spot inside of you that has you seeing stars with every single movement, and your whole body quivers as your stomach tightens.

You feel like you’re going to burn up from the inside, sweat dripping from your face and hitting the floor as the sound of pants and moans fill the room. His heavy balls hit your clit with every sharp snap of his hips, and the wet sounds your bodies make as they connect are positively obscene.

“Shit shit shit,” you chant as you clamp down around the many ridges along length, causing pleasure and pain to shoot through you which in turn makes you clench down even harder. “Fuck, it feels so - fuck it feels amazing,” you whine, realizing that your hand has come underneath you to begin stroking your throbbing, aching clit.  Your mind is so foggy that you aren’t even aware when you started.

But the tight circles you’re rubbing on your swollen little clit are not getting you any closer to that blissful climax. Everytime you get close, it seems to fade away, and you whine from deep in the back of your throat.

“Oh my, do you want to cum again, little one?” Kurogiri’s deep voice rumbles. “Beg me to take your soul and I will let you.”

The reality of the situation crashes back into you all at once. Of course, how could you forget? You’re being fucked into submission by a demon that you were stupid enough to release from the summoning circle. You can’t give in, can’t let him have your soul -

“Fuck, no, why,” you whimper in a choked sob as your orgasm slips away from you yet again. Your fingers increase their speed, grinding down so hard on your clit that you’re beginning to get sore. You push back against the demon’s every thrust, hoping against hope that maybe you can fool him.

But as if he can hear your thoughts, he instantly stops moving and your orgasm falls even further away from you. Tears of frustration are streaming from your eyes and hitting the floor underneath you. “Please!”

“I can do this forever, have you hovering at the edge with no release until you go mad with the desperate need to cum. Do you think you can hold on that long, little one?” He mocks you as he begins to move again, fast enough that it’s pleasurable but not as fast or as hard as you need right now.

“N-n-n-o, please!”

“Then say it. Say your soul belongs to me, and I will give you whatever you desire, little one.” He moves your hand away from your clit to replace it with his own. “Don’t you want to feel how good it is to cum around a demon’s cock?”

You’re sobbing and trembling, the fire in you threatening to consume you if you don’t cum right this moment. But still you shake your head back and forth, fighting not to give in to this sadistic demon.

“Come now, little one,” he whispers into your ear. “No one is going to save you from me. Just give in and I will make you feel better than you have ever felt.”

As he grazes over your clit with one finger at the same time as the ridge pushes against your g-spot, your willpower finally snaps completely. “Kurogiri, my soul is yours! Please just let me cum, please!”

He chuckles a bit, slightly at first before building into a triumphant, booming laugh that seems to come from deep inside of him. “The contract is sealed.” You feel a sharp tugging from within you, at the very core of your being. Everything in your being seems to be screaming out at once as purple mist shoots out from him to enter your body before disappearing, forming a connection between the two of you that will never be broken.

You want to consider the implications behind it, want to rage and scream at what was just done to you. But then he begins to move, and reason flies out of your head and is replaced with pure lust.

Rough fingers dig deep into the skin of your hips as he begins to ruthlessly pound into your aching pussy, thumb grinding down hard on your clit. He pushes against your g-spot with every single movement, and it isn’t long before the pressure reaches a crescendo.

You wail as you’re finally pushed over the edge, juices gushing from you as you squirt all over the demon’s cock. He doesn’t give you a moment to breathe, fucking you roughly through your orgasm and overstimulating you through several more orgasms.

Finally, he begins to twitch and throb, shoving himself fully inside of you as hot ropes of cum spurt out against your unprotected cervix. The warmth spreading out feels hot enough to burn your insides, and you cum one last time with a strangled howl before collapsing limply onto the floor.

You feel dizzy, the room spinning wildly as you try to catch your bearings. He collects you into his arms, the mist that makes up his face seeming to form into a smirk. “Now you belong to me, little one.”

“What are you going to do with me?” You say weakly, not able to move or try to get out of his arms. “Are you going to let me go now?

“Of course not. I have waited too long for you, and now I have you. Your body and soul are both mine, forever.”

You’re not sure why you feel so weak all of a sudden, body becoming heavy and sluggish as if you’re being drained of energy. You’re beginning to lose consciousness, vision turning purple around the edges. But his wording causes a thought to form. “I did the summoning correctly, didn’t I?”

He chuckles a bit.  “Yes, you did. But I was waiting, and I killed the pathetic demon you tried to summon.”

“And our deal? Were you ever sincere about it?”

“Of course I was sincere about it. In fact, your ex is already dead. Not only did they dare to put their hands on what’s mine, they discarded you like a piece of trash once they were done. Their punishment in the afterlife will be quite severe.” “What’s happening to me?” You whimper, voice breaking at the end from fear and confusion.

He grins maliciously at you. “I am draining you of every bit of life force you have. You will die, and your soul will be tied to mine for eternity.”

“But your oath!” You try desperately to stop this, to avoid being killed by this demon. “You said you wouldn’t betray me!”

“It's not betrayal if I intended to do this from the beginning, now is it?”

Your mouth falls open in horror of how stupid you’ve been, how truly in over your head you were.

“Now fade away, little one. Don’t fight it. When you wake up, you’ll be in your new home. In Hell with me, where you belong.”

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

Kinktober: @thewheezingwyvern​, @vixen-scribbles​, @katsukisprincess​, @hisoknen​, @trafalgar-temptress​, @wings-flames-and-ashes​, @burnedbyshoto​, @bakugotrashpanda​, @dee-madwriter​, @kittycatkrissa​, @reinawritesbnha​, @yanderart​, @dabilove27​, @anxietyplusultra​, @flutterfalla​, @angmarwitch​, @nereida19​, @babayaga67​, @fromsunnywithlove​, @dabis-kitten​, @bakugos-cumsock​, @yumeneji​, @the-grimm-writer​, @iwaizumi-chan​, @slashersheart​, @bunnyywritings​, @bakarinnie​, @angie-1306​, @lalalemon101​​, @videogameboiwhowins​​, ​@tenkoshimmy​, @baroque-baby​​, @bbyspiiice​​, @thirstyforthem2dmen​​, @blissfulignorance2000​, @bluecookies02-main​, @aryjaa​, @theodora3022​, @raekah​, @ineedmorefanfics​, @serosmissingtoe​, @deathmemeiverse​, @chibikochannumberone​, @saint-eridell​​, @miscellaneous-bnha​, @katsukis-sad-angel​

[idontwanttospoiltheparty]

girl im gonna need more of your tinhatting thoughts on that Pierre cardine interview. i actually had no idea it was that close to the bob Wooler incident???

(in reference to my tags here)

This is why it Pays to memorize dates folks >:)

But yes, the interview was recorded on June 30th 1963 and Paul's 21st birthday was June 18th.

So, I tend to think that, based on how violently John reacted and also based on how he described what went down in Spain, according to Pete Shotton, he was very much not feeling in any sense normal or accepting about his own feelings or whatever ended up happening between him and Brian on that holiday. I think he was probably partially overwhelmed (or perhaps in a sense underwhelmed? It wasn't as "strange" as he might've expected? it was casual in a way he hadn't thought it could be?) by the experience of the trip itself as well as well the incessant gossip that it created.

All this at a, it cannot be overstated, pivotal moment in John and the band as a whole's career. Please Please Me the album is in the charts but She Loves You isn't fully written yet, the term "Beatlemania" won't be coined for a few months; it's all still a big "Maybe" on whether this band is a fad, and they haven't made it big outside of England, really.

Obviously, what John did at that party was inexcusable and fucked up, but based on all his own accounts of the events, as well as Cyn's from what I recall, he was deeply regretful of it quite immediately after and it clearly wrecked him more than other violent encounters he'd gotten himself into. He himself kept bringing it up, even up until just days before his death, continuing to try and explain it to himself it seems.

(just gonna link my general John Being Hm About Sexuality Compilation Post here, which includes the full passages mentioned)

So, with this probably deep deep shame – over his brutal actions, over the fact he could've cost the band their success, and, last but not least, over his own feelings – dripping through him, it's just kind of heartbreaking to watch him, so soon after, smiling at Paul like he's his entire world, only to stop himself abruptly like that. Maybe not even just because it's Paul, you can't stare at him like that, but also because you're being recorded. There are cameras on you all the time now.

I think generally the rise of that extreme public scrutiny and lack of privacy – which, about a year later, would force him and Cyn to move out of London and into the suburbs – must have had a huge impact on John's journey, grappling with his feelings, even if we oftentimes tend to view him through that 1968 lens of I Don't Care What ANYONE Thinks Anymore THIS Is What I Want!

[socialistsephardi]

The Political History of Zionism

With everything currently going on, I’ve decided to make this post detailing the different streams of Zionism, in order to deconstruct rhetoric surrounding Zionism. I do this to aid arguments against Hasbara, which often claims that Zionism is unified and simple.

To begin, Political Zionism is generally considered to start with the writings of Theodor Herzl, in the 19th century political climate of Central and Eastern Europe. Prior to this, numerous pre-zionist movements were competing among the Jews of europe following an event called the Haskalah, or “Jewish Enlightment”. The French Revolution caused France to become the first european nation to recognize Jews as citizens with rights, which would be followed by Britain and Germany. This allowed for the formation of a new secular Jewish middle class enthrawled by enlightment principles - mainly, rationalism, romanticism, and nationalism. However, this also generated a shift from religious persecution towards ‘racial’ antisemitism. As the Jews of various countries were subjected to either intense expectations of assimilation, or reoccuring waves of pogroms, it became clear that most of europe regarded these emancipated Jews as foreign nationals of alien religion and culturally compatible. The proto-Zionists begin building a consensus pushing for immigration to Ottoman Palestine, some seeking to provide an alternative to the pogroms, some believing themselves witness to the signs of an imment messiah, etc. Moshe Hess, an associate of Karl Marx, calls for Jews to create a socialist state in Palestine (more on Hess later). Waves of European Jews arrive, and organizations aiming to support Jewish farmers and artisans in Palestine and Syria are founded. The local authorities begin to differentiate between the immigrant Jews and the Jews from the local communities. Herzl enters the Jewish public consciousness with his writings calling specifically for the creation of a Jewish majority state. appealing to the British and French empires to aid them. He rejects Hess’s socialist proposal and instead proposes a reconstruction of Jewry altogether, rejecting the diaspora entirely, arguing that only separation could ensure Jewish survival. Herzl proposes establishing this state in Argentina, but concludes that Palestine would likely have more ideological appeal. I feel it crucial to note here that in his early writings, Herzl is hostile to religious Jews, claims that the Jews of the Ghettos and Shtetls hold back the intellectual, and calls the Sephardi Jews living under France in Algeria mixed blood barbarians. These attitudes would carry over into the political zietgiest of early Zionism.

From here, Zionism begins to grow, the call for simple immigration to the land is supplanted by a demand for a Jewish majority state, and competing schools of thought emerge. The World Zionist Organization is created, and the Zionists pivot attempt including the consent of the Ottomans in the project. Herzl here also begins to explicitly call for the colonization of Palestine, in line with his admiration for the french and british empires. The first major split within the Zionist movement comes with the formation of Labor Zionism based on Hess’s writings. Wheras Herzl’s camp depended on gaining support from the empires and from prominent Jewish figures, Labor Zionism argued that only the Jewish working class could create such a nation, and sought to emphasize a progressive Jewish identity. This is also where a re-alignment for the religious backing begins. Originally, orthodox Jews are in an uneasy alliance with the entirely secular Jews in the movement, mostly because despite his early writings, Herzl emphasized a need to manufacture support from orthodox rabbis and communities. With Herzl eventual death, the orthodox separate from the mainstream movement, citing the believe that only the Messiah can reassert Jewish control over the land. Reform Jews at this time also reject Zionism, as it is perceived as a threat to Jewish citizenship in Europe and America. The Reform rejected the notion that Jews were bound by a shared nationality, a position which held true until the holocaust.

Over the next few decades, various zionist groups in palestine compete for power. Many begin attacking the Muslim and Christian Palestinian communities, often forcibly separating the local Jewry in the process. Jewish terrorist groups launch attacks on British centers following WW1. Labor Zionists rejected traditional Jewish practice, arguing that these represented a diaspora mentality. They also set up the early Kibbitzim. Jabotinsky develops a trend known as Revisionist Zionism, with the aim of territorial maximalism. Revisionist Zionism becomes ingrained as the right wing faction, and eventually becoming the ideological foundation of the current Likud party. Jabotinsky admired and borrowed core concepts from Mussolini and fascism, in particular the centrality of the state, social conservative unity, and racial supremacy. Mussolini knew of this and told the founder of the World Jewish Congress “For Zionism to succeed, you need to have a Jewish State with a Jewish flag, and Jewish language. The person who understands that is your fascist, Jabotinsky". The revisionists during this time approved of the idea of building a Mediterranean alliance and opposing British influence. In 1939, Stern forms Lehi, and they oppose Britain in WW2, instead arguing that Jews must align with the Axis, eventually going so far as to claim that if they were to take control of the mandate, they would negotiate with Hitler to see the Jews in the camps transfered in as new citizens, and in exchange join the German sphere.

Following WW2, the Nakba occurs, and the Haganah (including groups like Lehi) is reorganized into the IDF. The liberal/general Zionists are now faced with oppozing interal forces such as the labor Zionists and the revisionists. They now turn to emphasis liberalism in the new state, mostly the democratic electoral system and the free market, but largely become a backdrop to the rest of the political movements, which turn themselves into party affiliation, since the basic liberal structure had already been established. The labor Zionists become the dominant trend in Israeli politics until the 70′s. Following the Six Day Way in 67, Israel seizes control of the rest of the land from the mandate. This sets off a new movement. Previously, Religious Zionism was a minor stream mostly simply meaning religious Jews who supported Zionism. From here on, however, it becomes dominated by a right wing religious trend and becomes NeoZionism. NeoZionists combined religious and nationalist elements, specifically advocated settlements beyond the green line, and often advocate the removal of Arab people, citing Arab Israelis as a potential 5th column. Neozionists believe that the secularism of other zionist branches is a significant weak point, and usually incorporate far right orthodox talking points. Groups such as the Hebron settlers are highly influenced by Neozionism. Neozionists are also usually behind the call to establish an entirely orthodox state in the west bank if Israel were to pull out. On the opposite end, there are the post-Zionists, who believe Zionism has fulfilled its goal. Post-Zionists are not really coordiated in the same way others on this list are, but generally they are critical of the direction israel has moved, they typically seek to try to make Jews safer in the diaspora, generally support Arab Israelis and some post-zionists believe in transforming the state into an entirely liberal-democratic one. Right wing Israelis also use “post zionist“ to refer to the Israeli left after the Oslo Accords in the mid 90′s.

Finally, I’d like to take note of Kahanism. Kahanism is an extremist ideology based on the work of Rabbi Meir Kahane, and materialized as the Kach party in Israel, a party which was boycotted by every other faction the single time they were elected to the Knesset, and is now banned and labeled a terrorist organization. Kahanists believe that every single Jew should live in Israel, and that only Jews should live in Israel. They advocate for Israel to enforce traditional Jewish law at the national scale, and together with Neozionists have engaged in actions to provoke fear in diaspora communities. Kahanists believe that all Arab people are the mortal enemy of all Jews and that Israel should seize land from Jordan, Lebanon, Syria, Iraq, and Egypt. Kahane himself proposed laws, including banning intermarriage, banning cultural meetings between Jewish and Muslim students, and re-segregating areas that had already undergone desegregation.

So that is a compressed history of the trends within Zionism. I write this not to garner sympathy for Zionism, but in hopes that this helps pick apart hasbarist simplification. At best, Zionism produced a labor movement with a terribly racist history which stole yemenite Jewish children and encouraged discrimination and segregation against sephardi and mizrachi Jews within Israel from a secular ashkenazi ‘core‘. At worst, fundamentalists and militant zealots who are overwhelmingly hostile to anyone else, groups who align with historic and current fascist and nazi movements, and a massive, overwhelming history of abuse and human rights violations against Palestinians, other Arabs, Jews of color, diaspora movements, etc. If you needed any reason beyond the sheer weight of the Palestinian cause to oppose Zionism, here you go. I hope this sways the mind of any lingering ZIonists reading this, and I hope this is used to more effectively call out Zionism for what it is - a racist, imperialist, and fascist ideology hellbent on redefining Judaism for its aims against any act of solidarity between groups, completely fueled by western interests in carving up and controlling West Asia / the middle east/ Al-Mashriq.

[adifferenttime]

Andrew Ryan vs. Robert House

On almost every House post I make, someone in the notes will reliably reference Andrew Ryan. I totally get it - they look similar, they're based on the same guy, the parallels are so clear that the NV dev team added an achievement for killing House with a golf club - but I think these commonalities tend to engulf both characters, blotting out some of their more interesting ideological/personal differences. It's useful to examine them in relation to one another, but part of that is figuring out what distinguishes them, which is just what I’ve attempted to do.

It's difficult for me to talk about Randian objectivism because I don't think it's sound enough to address on its own terms, but considering this is the philosophy Andrew Ryan has adopted, I kind of have to. What I’d identify as the core premise of Randian ethics is this: altruism is a moral wrong. Some Randians have argued that isn't really what they believe - that the real point is anything resembling altruism is self-interest in disguise - but they're departing from the beliefs of their icon when they make those claims. Per Rand:

The irreducible primary of altruism, the basic absolute is self-sacrifice – which means self-immolation, self-abnegation, self-denial, self-destruction – which means the self as a standard of evil, the selfless as a standard of the good.

The way Rand defines altruism is by linking it to self-sacrifice, which she uses to differentiate it from kindness or benevolence. Aiding others at no cost to yourself is benevolent, but not altruistic, and therefore not evil. Sacrificing your happiness to help another human being is, from Rand's perspective, evil, as is any philosophy that prioritizes the other at the cost of the self. This whole idea has been broadly rejected by most scholars on account of it being really fucking stupid. What justifies the leap from "man is naturally selfish" to "selfishness is good"? If selfishness is moral, wouldn't the most moral behavior be to exploit others through whatever means necessary, favoring force over the market? Rand defines happiness as "using your mind’s fullest power," achievable only when you "do not consider the pleasure of others as the goal," but why is this the only definition? What if your only options are self-sacrificial in nature? How do you weigh them if neither sacrifice is linked to values, individual achievement, or "your mind's fullest power" at all? Rand didn't care because she was too busy trying to ethically justify cheating on her man with her best friend's husband, but nonetheless, this is the philosophy Andrew Ryan’s adopted. He claims that "Altruism is the root of all Wickedness," in what's almost a direct quote from Rand herself.

To that end, Ryan builds a system that doesn’t just accept selfishness but actively incentivizes it. Every other principle he expresses is subservient to the ideas that selfishness rules man, and that for Ryan to act on his own selfish impulses is the highest good in the world. His lesser political principles (individual liberties, negative rights, the creation of a stateless society) don’t matter to him as much as the central precept from which they stem: that selfishness is his moral imperative.

What is the greatest lie every created? What is the most vicious obscenity ever perpetrated on mankind? Slavery? The Holocaust? Dictatorship? No. It's the tool with which all that wickedness is built: altruism.

It doesn't come as a particular surprise to me when he starts imprisoning dissidents or executing rivals or banning theft (standard practice in most societies, but not what an egoist would pursue; if you can get away with taking it, you deserve to have it, or so the thinking goes). I’ve seen him described as a hypocrite, but I don’t think that’s necessarily true considering everything he does is in line with his opposition to altruism. He'll adhere to his other principles only if they don’t sabotage his pursuit of personal power. This is evident in the fact that he only adopts a negative perception of Fontaine when his own interests are threatened, but doesn’t give two shits what Fontaine might be doing to sow conflict and harm people before that point. A guy named Gregory asks Ryan to step in against Fontaine early on before Fontaine's fully established himself as a threat to Ryan's power, and Ryan's extremely blase about it.

Don't expect me to punish citizens for showing a little initiative. If you don't like what Fontaine is doing, well, I suggest you find a way to offer a better product.

Contrast this with how he reacts when Fontaine has risen as a genuine business rival. This is from the log titled "Fontaine Must Go."

Something must be done about Fontaine. While I was buying buildings and fish futures, he was cornering the market on genotypes and nucleotide sequences. Rapture is transforming before my eyes. The Great Chain is pulling away from me.

This double standard is the natural outgrowth of his prioritization of self-interest. If your most deeply-held belief is that you should never give up your interests for others, ancillary rules become flexible in times of personal crisis, and Bioshock makes the case that putting someone like that in charge of a city will leave you with a crumbling, monstrous ruin.

Superficially, House has some similarities. Ryan executes political rivals; House has you blow up a bunker of his ideological opponents. Ryan is the highest authority in Rapture; House is the absolute monarch of Vegas. Their goals and moral codes, though, are almost diametrically opposed. When you ask House why you’re expected to trust him when he’s openly admitting to installing himself as the despot of the New Vegas Strip, he says this:

I have no interest in abusing others... Nor have I any interest in being worshipped as some kind of machine-god messiah. I am impervious to such corrupting ambitions.

Most of his resources are devoted to large-scale, impersonal projects, aimed either at building the power of Vegas or securing his long term goal of “progress” as he sees it. He’s rejected selfishness as a moral good because House is very far from Randian objectivism. He's a Hobbesian monarch.

In that respect, he shares an outlook on human nature with Ryan that I deeply disagree with (that human beings are essentially selfish), but in terms of what that means for the structure of a utopian society, House takes a very different position. From his perspective, human nature breeds suffering, not industriousness, and the only way to stamp out conflict - and, in a post-nuclear age, ensure the continued survival of the human race - is through a strong sovereign. The purpose of a state as laid out in Leviathan aligns very, very closely with the one House expresses.

...the foresight of their own preservation, and of a more contented life thereby; that is to say, of getting themselves out from that miserable condition of war which is necessarily consequent, as hath been shown, to the natural passions of men...

The monarch's successes are reflected in his society and the well-being of humanity as a whole. To subvert his goals is to subvert society's goals, and to doom humanity to the war, death, and suffering that exist in a state of nature. When you destroy his Securitrons/kill him, he doesn't plead for himself or get offended on his own behalf. He accuses you of betraying not him, but mankind.

Single-handedly, you've brought mankind's best hopes of forward progress crashing down. No punishment would be too severe. Fool... to let... personalities... derail future... of mankind? ...Stupid! Slavery... the future of... mankind? What... have you... done?

An important corollary of this idea which again distinguishes House from Ryan appears in Leviathan’s description of the political/moral responsibility of a monarch to his subjects:

...that great Leviathan, or rather, to speak more reverently, of that mortal god to which we owe, under the immortal God, our peace and defence. For by this authority... he hath the use of so much power that, by terror thereof, he is enabled to form the wills of them all, to peace at home, and mutual aid against their enemies abroad.

Hobbes and House give the monarch virtually unlimited power but match it to the monarch's duty, which he lives to fulfill. His obligation is to speak for the people, act for them, and protect them from all threats, internal and external. House generally abides by this, orienting his decisions around his goals for society irrespective of the personal cost (the negative consequences of his actions are a product of his fucked evaluations of what’s best for society, not personal greed). It’s not just a departure from Ryan’s philosophy but a complete refutation of it. He's almost died for what he's misidentified as the greatest good.

Given that I had to make do with buggy software, the outcome could have been worse. I nearly died as it was…. I spent the next few decades in a veritable coma.

This is not the behavior of an egoist. This is the behavior of an extremely arrogant but marginally altruistic (from a Randian perspective lmao) guy. This is some distorted “from each according to his ability” shit if you’ve managed to convince yourself your abilities exceed those of everyone else who has ever lived and that you can get the Mandate of Heaven by being really good at statistics.

The reason these guys develop such similar structures and hierarchies despite the ideological gulfs between them is because both of them are elitists who’ve experienced a massive failure of self-consciousness. They’re unable to conceive of other people as being fundamentally like them. Ryan separates people into the clearly-delineated classes of “producer” and “parasite,” ignoring the fact that everything he’s ever “produced” was reliant on a huge, coordinated effort between workers, architects, accountants, middlemen, and others, all of whom, in conjunction, contributed more to the realization of his dreams that he ever could have alone. Rather than realizing his own position is more parasitic and reliant on other people’s labor than that of anyone else in Rapture, he adheres to his doctrine of selfishness even when it’s not reflective of reality and is ruining the the lives of an entire city of people. He deludes himself into believing he’s a superman among ants instead of one flawed man who is reliant on the goodwill of others to help him survive, as are we all.

House, too, thinks he’s exceptional. Unlike Ryan, he acknowledges the necessity of the worker to a functioning society, but while he’ll accept his reliance on that labor, he doesn’t trust the laborer enough to share political power. House knows he’s invested in humanity’s survival and the creation of a better world, but he refuses to consider that he might not be alone in this goal. He chalks up the existence of the Legion to fanaticism/the ambitions of a sultanistic dictator and attributes everything the NCR has done to greed, without it ever occurring to him that the massive harm these nations have done was partially motivated by the same goals he’s devoted himself to - and that the atrocities he’s committed since his rise to power are, in some respects, very similar. House knows himself to be invested in the well-being of humanity, but he’s too arrogant to ask himself if his methods are wrong or trust other people to build a new path, one that doesn’t necessitate his complete control over the land and people of the Mojave. Ryan and House’s worldviews are distinct, and their flaws, as highlighted by their respective narratives, say some interesting things about how each set of devs view power and the pitfalls of elitism.

Anyway. If you put these two men in a room, they would probably try to murder each other, and I think that’s great.

[antebunny]

April 30: rebirth

(Also called Bargaining–idea is taken from an old Loki fic with the same time travel premise).

When Jiang Yanli dies, Wei Wuxian goes into denial and just runs from Nightless City. He goes back to the Burial Mounds and feverishly works on a time travel array. Within the month he completes it and prepares to travel back in time, but there’s a catch. He first activates the array and then spends the next several hours going through the ritual, while outside the Siege of the Burial Mounds begins. The Wens know what Wei Wuxian is up to so they understand why he’s not bothering to protect them. He completes the ritual just as Jiang Cheng and Lan Zhan burst into the cave. They’re both there, at the front, in order to protect Wei Wuxian, but by the time they arrive it’s too late: the array is fading and Wei Wuxian is already dead. He barely sees them in the entrance when he dies, which leads him to (logical) conclusion that they’re there to kill him.

Here’s the catch: Wei Wuxian gets to go back, rewrite time, and change things. He decides to go back to the day before he got kicked out of the Cloud Recesses. But when time finally arrives at the time he activates the array, everyone gets their memories back. Although a lot of people will remember dying, it’s preferable to actually dying. Then Wei Wuxian has to conduct the ritual again, to ensure that this is the future that stays, and seal the deal with his own life. Basically, in order to change the future Wei Wuxian has to die. And obviously because he's Wei Wuxian, he decides that that’s okay so long as everyone gets to live.

So Wei Wuxian comes back to life with a golden core and cries for a solid minute, scaring tf out of Jiang Cheng, before he gets a grip. Then he proceeds to yell at Jin Zixuan, not get kicked out, and live life like everything’s normal. He enjoys the next six months of peace, and then he gets to work. Once the year is over, he goes on a very long night hunting trip, kills the Xuanwu of Slaughter, and sets up the cave for use. A year later and they’re at the archery competition, where Wei Wuxian still places first, meets Wen Ning again, and doesn’t pull off Lan Zhan’s forehead ribbon.

Then Wen Ruohan is ~mysteriously~ assassinated and the Wens declare war on all the sects in revenge. When the Wens come for Lotus Pier, there’s no personal vendetta, and Wei Wuxian hides in the shadows and drowns all of them. Then he pretends that he got knocked out and was unconscious somewhere hidden from the main battle where Jiang Cheng finds him. They win the war, and Jiang Fengmian and Yu Ziyuan are still alive and bickering with each other, the Jiang sect is still strong, etc. etc. Wei Wuxian personally hunts down Wen Zhuliu early in the war, before he can cause any damage. Then he also kills Jin Guangshan, blames it on the Wens (does it make sense? No. does anyone care? No) and Jin Zixuan commits fully to the war. Jin Zixuan learns to appreciate Jiang Yanli during the war, and since they’re already engaged they get married soon afterwards. Jin Guangyao gets taken in as Jin Zixuan’s younger brother, and since Jin Zixuan is a decent person who doesn’t want him to commit crimes but also needs Help, it goes a lot better. Meanwhile Wei Wuxian finds the DafanWen and they move to the Xuanwu cave, which Wei Wuxian has prepared. Also the carcass of the tortoise should scare anyone away.

Wei Wuxian sticks around to see his sister get married, takes Lan Zhan on a tour of Lotus Pier, at the end of which Lan Zhan proposes. Wei Wuxian is confused but figures that Lan Wangji must like this version of him that hasn’t used resentful energy as far as Lan Wangji knows or recused the Wens as far as he knows, or done any of the things that Other Lan Zhan hated him for. The Wens ask him to adopt A-Yuan, which he does after talking about it with Lan Zhan and after they get married. So now Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji are married and they have an adopted child. That part was all the fluff and fix-it, cue the angst. The date of Wei Wuxian’s death draws near, and Wei Wuxian starts getting moody and antsy, starts drinking. Yu Ziyuan yells at him, of course, and everyone else worries over him. It is during one of these blackout drunk sessions that Wei Wuxian tells Lan Wangji that he fully expects Lan Wangji to regret marrying him in the future. Lan Wangji swears up and down that he won’t, and Wei Wuxian kinda critiques himself and calls himself selfish, for marrying Lan Wangji and raising a kid when he knows it’s not going to last.

Basically Wei Wuxian starts getting skittish and disappears for periods of time to the Burial Mounds, where he acquires enough injuries that Lan Wangji suspects that someone is hurting him, which Wei Wuxian vehemently denies, but Lan Wangji is still Onto him. He goes to Jiang Yanli, who says that Wei Wuxian has been acting differently ever since he came back from the Cloud Recesses, seemed to know things that were going to happen before they did, disappears at odd times and incidents that occur when Wei Wuxian is missing, and they get Jiang Cheng, who recalls that one time Wei Wuxian woke up in the middle of the night and just bawled, and after that didn’t lose his temper on Jin Zixuan, pulled back on his most crazy antics.

Still, none of them suspect the exact day, so on that day, Wei Wuxian gets up, tells Lan Wangji he’s going to train the Jiang juniors, and then just…disappears. Night comes and Lan Wangji is already worried, according to the juniors he never showed. Yu Ziyuan accuses him of slacking, but then Lan Wangji barges in crying, holding a note. In it, Wei Wuxian doesn’t tell him about the time travel, but says that Wei Wuxian is going forever, and Lan Wangji will understand why tomorrow. He understands that it’s too much to wish for that Lan Wangji won’t hate him, after how selfish he’s been and what a terrible person he’s been, marrying Lan Wangji and pretending it can last, but he hopes Lan Wangji can still look back and remember him fondly in the future. He apologizes again and tells Lan Wangji again that he didn’t mean to tarnish Lan Wangji’s reputation or saddle him with a child, but A-Yuan is here now and he knows Lan Wangji loves A-Yuan. He leaves a similar cryptic note for Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli, apologizing to all of them for things they don’t understand.

Lan Zhan immediately begins searching for him all through the night, and then in the morning everyone blacks out and suddenly has memories of a different past couple of years, for most people starting with Wen Ruohan getting assassinated. People don’t immediately suspect the Yiling Patriarch, because they think he was simply never created in this timeline, and lives as Head Disciple Jiang and Lan Wangji’s husband, but Wei Wuxian’s family know better. They immediately rush to the Burial Mounds, and find it guarded by corpses. Inside the cave, Wei Wuxian begins conducting the ritual, also crying because he really had a happy life this time and he really really doesn’t want to go, but he can’t bear to revert to the original timeline, not when everyone is still alive here, so he continues. Yu Ziyuan and Jiang Fengmian find out about the whole yiling patriarch thing and jiang yanli is just like…i don’t care. Jin Guangshan is dead and can’t care, Jin Guangyao doesn’t have a vendetta, Jin Zixuan does what his wife says, and Jiang Yanli is alive so Jiang Cheng has no beef, plus he sees the lengths Wei Wuxian went through to save everyone. He also understands the letter now, then he and Jiang Yanli confront Lan Wangji like…do you no longer love him? Lan Wangji of course reacts poorly to this accusation and denies it. They leave A-Yuan behind and go to the Mounds with the intention of convincing Wei Wuxian that he doesn’t have to run away and they want him back.

They arrive in the cave just as Wei Wuxian is finishing with the ritual. But of course, parallels, Wei Wuxian looks up to see them standing in the entrance of the cave and thinks that they’re there to kill him, but also can see how distressed Lan Wangji looks and attempts to reassure him that he doesn’t have to kill Wei Wuxian! You know, his husband in this timeline! Because Wei Wuxian will do it himself! Wei Wuxian makes them fight some corpses while he rushes to finish the ritual, because they seem keen on stopping him (“i know you disapprove of demonic cultivation but this is the only way to save everyone”). Lan Wangji tackles him away from his ceremonial knife, and Wei Wuxian fights back (still has golden core!) they both fight desperately (“i have to do it myself Lan Zhan, otherwise I would let you do it”) over the knife. Jiang Cheng insists that there must be another solution, bc he doesn’t want Jiang Yanli to die. Then Wen Qing and Wen Ning walk into the cave, and Wen Qing like the genius she is, proposes the Alternate Solution. (What is it? Idk. just a magic solution in which Wei Wuxian doesn’t have to die). Wei Wuxian pauses in the middle of fighting Lan Wangji (“i don’t have to die?” he asks while Lan Wangji is busy shattering the knife and then he and Jiang Cheng pin him down so he can stop trying to kill himself in front of them. “Nope,” says Wen Qing, the only person with brains here). So Wei Wuxian sits on the floor of the cave, tied with deity-binding thread (Wei Wuxian: let me go Lan Wangji: not until you promise to go with wen qing’s version of the ritual Jiang Cheng: unless…do you want to leave? Wei Wuxian: no!) (What’s the solution? Maybe all of them sacrifice something important to them, maybe they just…all use their power to BS their way through a solution? Again, I don’t know).

So Lan Wangji unties Wei Wuxian and they hug and kiss and they all head back to Lotus Pier, where they eat a celebratory dinner, and reunite with A-Yuan, and Wei Wuxian celebrates the fact that he can live this happy life and not owe the world anything/need to go through the ritual.

The End!

[jean-does-not-have-a-horseface]

Neon Silhouettes

Hello! I’m very happy to finally post this because ive been working on this for a month! This is serving as an entry to @ackermans-freedom-inc discord challenge. Behold it’s long!

Word Count: 10.538k, i’m not even sorry

Pairing: Eren/ Reader

Tags: a n g s t, vigilante!au

Warnings: blood, violence, major character death (? its open to interpretation) 

In contrast to yours, Eren's breath is hot and tainted on the nape of your neck when you push him away from your form in an attempt to get more oxygen running through your system. The hazy high of your orgasm is mighty, similar to a fairytale like dream and makes all air around you run thin with each passing second. You're not sure if you're paying much attention to it, though, because your breath seems to be completely restored before you even think about catching up with it.

Eren makes a loud thud as he plops himself into the matress with his utmost enthusiastic moves. You can tell by his reactions that he enjoyed this intercourse even more than he'll ever admit -not that he's shy to ever do so- and that he seeks a way to relax himself from his own high. For that very reason, his hands are rather quick to pull you on his panting chest, just to provide some comfort for himself but in the process your silent plea to get a breather is long forgotten. You feel you head being smashed onto his smooth skin and you relax under the touch, thinking that you could cease this moment to fall into serenity as well.

With your heart still beating through your ribs though, you contemplate on whether or not falling into serenity now is a logical idea at all. Anxiety has planned seeds in your stomach ever since a few hours prior to your solo patrol in this area of Trost, merely at the thought of bumping into Eren. You had been practicing the words your comrades had assigned you to consider one too many times, and yet, the moment you laid eyes on Eren's helmet covered face your nervousness had worked wonders on turning them into thin air. It had happened so fast that you wondered if this was an actual new power you could posses.

Nevertheless, the anxiety is back now and it's growing its bindweeds in the pits of your stomach. A chapped piece of your lip is stuck under your front teeth, ready to be ripped off as your fingers are mimicking a walk, up and down on Eren's chest. You're not sure if you can talk and consequentially, the thin piece of flesh is ripped away from your lips forcefully, allowing the thin, iron like taste of blood to conquer your senses.

And in the moment it's all you can focus on.

It's always like this when it comes to Eren and yours passionate rendezvous; your mind is drenched of any thought other than him, your heart ceases to pulse inside your body and your legs feel like the most trashy, inexpensive jello -yes the one you ought to find at random 7/11s in the middle of nowhere after a long night of patrol when you're so hungry that your stomach feels likes its going to burst throughout your mouth canal. And yes, you've tried to restrain yourself from feeling this way, but it's not easy, especially when Eren's hand comes to tangle its way through your hair, scratching softly at your roots.

Clicking your tongue in your mouth though, you can't help but let your mind wander just for you to realise it's been so long since you've had said trashy jello dessert. It's not like you exactly miss it -no, you wouldn't say you did, its taste was atrocious- but it's nostalgic to think about your debut days as a younger superhero. Especially when you think about that it was due to that that you met Eren.

The thought that feasts on your brain though is nothing more than a projection of everyone's nostalgia of Eren, not only yours. The only reason he's laying underneath you with his right hand bent under his head and catching his heavy breaths as his chest basically pulsates and squirms under your form is because you've chosen to dance in that dark sewer of a world that is the reality of anti heros. Everyone who knows about you and Eren -mostly Levi and Mikasa- have pushed you over the edge of trying to shake him off of his criminal killing rampage, but you know him better than anyone. Thus, in reality, you don't know about whether you should utter that little speech that's at the tip of your tongue.

You nervously chew onto that tiny piece of flesh you've ripped from your lip for over a minute before you dare to try and think about what to do with it. Swallowing seems like a good option, the thought of spitting it like a bitten off nail unsettles you to a certain extent, plus you're not sure if bitten flesh activates Eren's titan senses. You never truly know what triggers people with titan powers and you're not about to risk it. Ironically, that's exactly how you're feeling when it comes to your thoughts but after you feel the teeny bundle of flesh go down your throat your mouth washes the taste of iron away and parts to your brain's command.

"Eren?" You breath out, your eyes despairately trying to fixate on anything other than his form.

Eren's finger is harsh and calloused to the touch as it mellowy grazes the soft skin on the underside of your wrist. Your eyes are finally fixed to the circling movements and though you want to give in the the long for sleep your eyelids suddenly ache for, your mind, much allured by how serene everything feels, pushes you to protest against it. There's nothing you can do about your fast mouth though; resenting it hasn't ever seemed like the way to go through with it.

"Yeah, baby?" Eren half moans to your direction.

You notice how he shifts his form comfortably from underneath you, obviously in search of the perfect sleeping position. Naturally this should have kept you back from speaking further; well this and the fact that he isn't exactly expecting what you're about to say, but nonetheless you swallow hard and bite on the inside of your cheek before you open your mouth to speak once again.

"Can we talk about it, lovey?" You hesitate with the nickname, yet when you utter it you know you dont regret its sappy nature.

"About it?"

"You know," you trail off "About the Titans case."

"What is there to talk about? We'll sort the case out one and for all, we've agreed on it."

Well of course, for both you and Eren, and probably every other person in this world, this case is something that should permanently close. It only seems fair, all those years that you've spent being hunted by those monsters are starting to put an overwhelming amount of weight into modern superheros and anti-heros alike. Everyone basically had the same goal concerning this case, yet people are still split as to how it should be closed.

Eren says it's fitting for The Titans to pay for their sins with more blood than they have managed to spill; they're a top crime syndicate that focuses on abducting humans and mutating them into bloodlusting monsters, just for the purposes of creating their own sick and twisted army of mindless pawns. Eren, having fallen an indirect victim of their brutality stands by his beliefs and won't let a titan standing on their feet when he encounters one.

But he wasn't always like this. Not exactly

Back in the day when he worked as Levi's sidekick, he wouldn't brutalize them to the point where they'd bleed to death, but he would make sure they weren't going ever be healed again, not even if they were ever given an antidote. His falling out with Levi and your team of superheroes though, followed by the brutal murder of his mother had withered Eren's psyche with tormentous force.

You furrow your brows as your mind travels back to those dark memories, dipping into necessary pieces of information that need to be composed in some way for you to reply to him. Ironically, it was when Eren turned his back on your team that you found some major leads as to who run the Titans and possibly even why.

"We'll sort the case," you say "but I don't think you should be murdering them."

Eren takes the hand that acts as a comforter over your harshly and pinches the bridge of his nose as he exhales in disapproval. You know, his face must be scrunched in misery right now, brows puckered over his nose and eyes firmly closed shut. You can listen to his heart and in turn you feel the buzzing his pulse makes as it speeds up a tad.

"We've talked about this. You do you. And I do me."

For a moment you contemplate on whether you want to use your psychic superpowers on him. To think that you can change his mindset is an enchanting thought; in fact right now, it's so alluring that you feel the familiar awakening of your powers rush through your veins. It feels like cotton candy colored poison -that's probably the best way you can describe it according to other psychic's. Your powers, as naive and endearing they may seem can easily flip the cards on you at any given moment of weakness; it's like your natural instincts awaken with a mind of their own to protect and help their host. But it's merely unethical and dictating to force such change on your beloved as much as it is to do so on the next person.

Your mouth puckers to the right as you let your brain roam over every single possible outcome that this conversation can have, yet you never even flinch on Eren's chest, sternly refusing to let your body react to his words. One wrong reaction and Eren's hotheadedness will bite you in the ass.

"Dont be like that, (y/n)." Eren says

You have to admit he's catching you off guard when his hand comes to move your chin to point at his direction. It's his checkmate move and he knows it, blinking his real eyes into yours, he frees his brows from their gathering, leaving small red lines as reminders of his temper behind. You on the other hand, with your short hitched breaths and that constipated look on your face though you can't help but predict his next sarcastic plea.

"Don't look at me like that."

You cough that little angry, hot huff of air that's trapped inside your lungs for oh so long before you plough your elbows under your face to support your form in order to face him. You never detach yourself from him and you don't plan on doing so, this is probably the only way to make him feel that you take into consideration all his boiling bad blood.

"You know damn well why I'm looking at you like that."

"I do." He shrugs casually and then proceeds to shut his eyes in despair "but you're not here to question my means." Eren sighs in defeat as the words come out of him and proceeds to wrap his arm around you again.

However you pucker your eyebrows further, bringing them impossibly closer to your eyes as you boil the words you seek to speak in the back of your throat "I'm not questioning them. I'm resenting them. I'm not even playing the goody superhero on you, but really why are you doing this?"

You never fail to notice how Eren bites the inside of his cheek or how he clenches his grip on you almost like a silent warning at to what territory you're opting to walk into, but you ignore it, sighing all the way through your mouth hoping that the little oxygen you can fill your lungs with is enough to get you through this.

"Everyone misses you. Don't you care about that?"

Does he? Eren wants to believe that whatever he's doing he's doing it because all of you are excessively significant to him. I all honesty he is fuming over the fact that you don't see how this is the only inevitable option. He hates for his alter ego to be called a mass murderer in the news every other day just as much as he hates the fact that people choose to see a redeemable side to human flesh eating mutants.

"If I don't do what I do, history is going to repeat it self." He spits, harshly enough that he's sure you won't reply just yet. "You and this pretentious superhero facade are not going to be here to live it down with me though."

He watches as your face contorts in surprise as his words fall, your mouth snapping open in order to utter your quick fetched reply but he cuts you off with an even harsher tone this time.

"I'm clearing the world from all this alright? There are many people that do so as well-"

"Who? Flotch and Yelena?" You cut him off, but still he brushes it off.

With a shift in your movements you're on your back, your arms moving mechanically to grab onto the covers to bring them onto your bare chest. Eren can read the action all too well and he hates it, he hates it enough that he runs his hands painfully through his hair, despairate to get them away from the burning skin on his neck. Anxiety has worked wonders on his body, he figures.

"You, Levi, Mikasa, Jean, Connie! Want me to throw more names in your face? Me and my team finish off what you guys chicken out to do." Eren's voice is calm yet his tone is drenched in poison, that mellow sound he makes when he re opens his mouth is what's pushing you over the edge, making your blood boil inside your body. It causes you to wrap your fingers tightly onto the blanket that covers your chest, your fists turning white as you clench on it with full force. As if it can help you concentrate all of your anger on the spot.

Naturally, it can't.

"We're not chickening out Eren, we focus on containing all evil, not annihilating it. To think you can do that-"

"I can-" Eren cuts you off, though you won't let him continue until you get your point across.

"You must be really dumb to carry that mindset. What happens after you annihilate the titans, will you do the same for any other similar crime syndicate? Or are your motives personal only when it comes to this one?"

Eren bites on the sides of his tongue with a piercing force and swallows hard on the bitterweet spit that forms due to the action. He forcefully tosses his head to both left and right to shake away any unwanted thought out of his mind but it hurriedly proves to be fruitless. As much as he has liked to think that you can get past that fight on your morals one day, it's obvious to him that it's a fundamental dynamic between the two of you. It's a concrete wall that's none of you can or are willing to try to go through. And he doesn't like that, not one bit.

"Don't try to boss me into your beliefs." His eyes widen as he speaks, voice tainted in a growling anger that he can feel cooking inside his chest.

"I'm not bossing you Eren, stop acting like this."

"Why are you so fucking hang up on this now out of all times?" He spits more so that questions.

"We're so close to catching Zeke and your team is close to doing so as well, I'm just worried." You admit, shyly loosening the clenched cover from your fist in fear of ripping it. "I want us to be a normal couple after this. I care about you."

Your mind is fogged with animalistic rage, yet you still manage to swallow it down, past that lump in the back of your throat that tik dangerously on your clock and threatens to burst. It's only when you try to show the nature of your thoughts and intentions that you watch Eren's face finally contort in rage that's much similar to yours. You fall back for a brief moment, allowing him to take advantage of the silence in the room to answer back to you.

"When I catch Zeke I'm not sparing him."

Eren lets the breath that's trapped in the depths of his chest out before it manages to suffocate him. Thinking about Zeke and how he's standing opposite to him makes him feel sick to the stomach, but he has accepted that it's only just his luck that his half brother happens to be working for the titans. Accepting that Zeke wants to collect all nine original titans for the syndicate to use as they wish has been a hard task to do so, he can admit to that much but he's swore to never let his connection to the man hold him back from putting an end to this misery.

"Eren don't be so stubborn." You plea, brows impossibly covering your eyes as your voice reeks of rage.

"I'm not, quit playing the rightful hero and maybe we can have this conversation when you'll be able to see things from my side."

He can see that you're drowning in your own words, fighting to find the right syllabuses to utter, but he refuses to give you any time, his own rage is ticking like a bomb, he can feel his stomach growling in the familiar numbness anger casts upon his organs and he knows he can't hold back.

"Do what you gotta do, but I'm ending them, I'll fight your team too if I have to get to what needs to be done."

"Oh yeah?" You let out an amused, angry chuckle before continuing "You'll fight me?"

"Gladly!" Eren spits, his eyes wide as his eyebrows twitch in determination.

"Don't say things you can't take back. Don't be an asshole."

"Last time I checked the definition of an asshole was someone who won't support their partner in their decisions, whether they agree with them or not."

You glance towards Eren's drawer, fuming to the point you struggle to control your powers. Your breath is refusing to regulate even if you beg for it to work the way you want it to, causing you to try and think of the most possibly rational plan to get your self out of this situation. You can't stand looking at Eren for the time being, any glance at his side is making you fume to the point your insides coil making you think you're going to start emitting smoke.

"Fuck! Fuck! You won't even try to understand me, I don't even know what I'm doing with you."

You have a small drawer filled with your clothes at Eren's place and he has one in yours. Convently, you've persuaded him to keep a superpower restraining collar in case either of you ever go out of control, which seems to be the case for you now. Eren's last words are poisoning you, burning their way inside your veins. Thus reaching the collar becomes your ultimate goal in the moment; you resent the extend in which your own powers can reach and you refuse to cause more drama by hurting Eren without intending to.

Your ears fall deaf to what Eren is fuming about, its necessary to try and keep ignoring him if you want to focus on completing this simple task. Your head is spinning, lost in the dark colored vertigo you've entered in your effort to focus on your goal. Pushing past it is vital in any case you want to prevent anything from happening. With the sudden swing of your wrist the drawer bursts open with force, the small amount of clothes inside are shot to the ceiling.

The metallic collar shines under the light as it stands proudly in the air as clothes continue to practically spill to any direction. Your stretched fingers make a half turn, as if signing the way to you to the object, your thumb shoting as far back as it can physically can go while your pinky stands inches away from the edge of your palm and your wrist. Your heart is hammering inside your chest for the remaining seconds it takes for the object to come to you and though, even if it's coming to you at full force and speed any passing moment feels like an eon.

You almost manage to sigh in relief as the metal touches tour throat but the action is cut short the moment your breath suddenly hitches reflexively. The collar fails to wrap around your throat and click in place, rather than that its resting in Eren's palm. The veins in his arm are twitching much expectly; he's using all of his force to hold the collar back, fighting your control over the object with his inhuman strength, still you won't let go of your hold either, not caring as to what is going to happen to the object, it won't last for long with all this strength force upon it, you're sure of that.

"If you want to me to respect you enough to fight with you, you won't enslave yourself with none of these fucking shits. Handle your powers on your own."

Your eyes are twitching, your forehead finally giving in to an endless amount of sweaty droplets. There's a throb mirrored by your pulse in the edge of your neck and you throw your head back in defeat before you even manage to think about it. The collar crumbles and smashes in Eren's palm under his grip, the metal cracking slightly as his skin twitches and burns in protest.

"I want us to be free of this, you think if get my hands dirty if it wasn't supposed to end in a way that I expected and calculated meticulously?"

Despite the fact that Eren is spitting those facts, you manage to distinguish the true intention of his choice of words, pushing past his harsh tone. It's unfair that you chose to anger him to such extend, you're angry as well but you come to realise that it's only because you are both afraid. Eren is afraid if losing you and his friends to the hands of another titan and you're afraid to lose Eren in the hands of his bloodlust. The collision between good or bad is only what you try to mask your fears with; what you see as bad and evil, Eren does so as well. Your perspective only changes as to how you view the means to reach the rightful good.

War can't exist without peace and peace can't exist without war.

You think back to what you told him earlier and in a snap you realise that for the time being, that's just about as normal as the two of you can get. An anti hero with his hands clenching a crushed power restraining collar, because he detests anything that strips people off their freedom and their given right to it, and a concerned superhero with her head thrown back in deafeat, giving up on trying to get a so called noble point across. In a way, both you and Eren have chosen this when you decided to take a shared path despite the fundamental differences on your beliefs.

And for a moment you think you're going to get past it. All couple have fights, all couples gets enraged with each other at least once in their span of time but they always manage to bounce back and stand on their feet next to each other. You're not exactly sure if Eren is standing right next to you or if he's opposed to you both literally and mentally but you relax back in the comforter thinking that you'll get an answer in a moment.

Eren's breaths are finally starting to regulate and he can't help but take notice of you slipping inside the comforter, your head hitting the pillow with a muffled thud. His long bangs are sprawled over his face, some fine chocolate hairs tingling the sensitive skin on his nose, some of their edges tickling at his fleshy lips. His mind is blurry, so blurry that he refuses to acknowledge the hand that is still clinging onto the collar, his posture is finally fixed on the bed before he decides to slide down in a movement so that he can lay right next to you.

"I'm sorry." He speaks first, his left hand forming into a fist as it lands on his forehead, pressing with its back on the throbbing veins and nerves that beg to release some of the tention they have gathered.

"I shouldn't have brought it up, it's my fault."

"Seems like we can't meet halfway when it comes to this." He hazes.

“No” 

Sighing, you sink further into the matress, raising your hand to mimic Eren’s actions to cover your face with the back of your hand. You chirp a little sound of misery as you do so, finding hard to swallow down through the knot that has formed in your throat.

"Is this it?" You ask, your voice barely louder than a whisper "Is this how it's going to be for us?"

"If you think I'm going to give up on my beliefs for you then I have some bad news."

Eren turns his head to you, sternly fixing his teal eyes in yours while his jaw is clenching, his bottom lip trembling and worrying as he chews on his words. A hitched sigh exits your nose as your eyes start burning I'm their attempt to hold back tears, the corners of your lips curving downwards causing your button lip to pucker sourly. You keep on staring at Eren and he keeps staring back at you, both of your chests heaving with short chopped breaths. You don't dare touch each other, not right now when you can't hold back your emotions, but you can definitely see how hurt he looks just as much as he can do the same for you.

"Well I can't turn my back on mine either." You choke, not daring to part your mouth enough for the words to exit correctly.

"Maybe you should just-" Eren opens his mouth, twitching out the words before he manages to mumble them "go."

The tears that threaten to spill from the corners of your eyes are finally flowing, running in burning hot streaks past your nose before landing cold onto your ear. You hate it, you hate the moist sensation on your cornch and you hate that Eren's eyes never fail to notice every single tiny droplet that fall from your lips.

His constipated expression won't scatter away from his face, rather than that it only hardens as he tried to hold back and onto those tiny pools in the corners of is eyes.

He wants to speak, you know because he keeps opening his mouth to do so, but the only sounds he emits are deep growls of pain. He doesn't know how to feel about them, you've seen him cry numerous times, yet this heartbreak seems so inevitably painful to endure on his own. It's another love he has to bid goodbye because of those godamn titans and it's even more painful that he knows that by annihilating them, he'll never be able to claim you as his anymore.

He'd rather clear the world for you to live peaceful and free though.

...

The sound of your fists colliding with the back leather of a boxing sack fills the air, bouncing in between the gray marble colored walls of the headquarters. The room you're in is soundproof, causing the sound to linger in the air as you pant, holding your sour spit in your mouth as you throw another punch and kick to the sack. Sweat drips from your forehead and onto the mat beneath you yet you make no movement in trying to wipe it off, you simply let it drip while picking up your foot in order to flip it onto the dummy.

"Easy there now"

When Jean's hand comes to rest on your shoulder giving you a little comforting squeeze, you jump on your spot, startled much by the sudden action. For a moment you avoid turning your head to face him; despite the amount of mellow warmth and comfort his touch provides you with, you don't feel like you can regulate that rush of adrenaline that pumps through your veins.

Your fists, numb by the raw force you've used to launch punches to the boxing sack before you are now inevitably frozen, hugging the dummy with enough strength to make it fall in place. As the sound of the metallic chain clashing fills the air your nostrils snort hot huffs of air, your eyes squinting shut as your brows remain furrowed to forbid any drop of sweat from running down to your face. Jean inspects your constipated expression as he moves around, taking small steps as he approaches you from this new position, finally coming to face you with an understanding smile.

"I noticed you're pushing your self a lot lately." He says, his hand coming to squeeze on your shoulder once again. He presses his lips into a thin line, the action making his straight nose scrunch slightly.

"It's fine." You snark "I could use some excessive combat training to be honest. Mikasa said you and her can help someday."

"Okay then! Let's spare now." Jean says enthusiastically and his hands come to his sides, his fists clenched as a smug expression appears on his face "Ditch the dummy."

Nonetheless you snicker in response. Bringing your finger to your temple, you awkwardly scratch on the tender skin at the tail of your eyebrow. Next, your hands come to your loose ponytail, giving a little tag at the elastic loop that's used to hold them in place, pulling it down to the ends of your hair.

"Sorry, not in the mood." You bite, but Jean is irritatingly not ready to give up on you just yet.

"Weren't you just splitting your knuckles, punching that sack? Like, a few seconds ago? Drop the emo attitude and show me what you got."

Kissing your teeth you bow down, aiming to go for the towel you've neatly folded on your foamy work out mat, taking it carefully in your hands in order to bring it to your sweat dripping face. While crossing his hands to his chest, Jean throws you his signature expression of disapproval -yes, the one he liked to throw at Eren while calling him a suicidal bastard and yes, if Mikasa, not just anyone, asked him he'd admit to having missed the particular interaction with your now ex boyfriend. The male sighs, parting his mouth open, ready to utter what he thinks will help you.

"If it helps, I've been saying Eren is a dick from the very start, I'm sorry you had to be convinced of the fact in such way."

Its your turn to throw him a disapproving look now.

Jean, similarly to the next person, knows how much you hate talking about /that/ fateful night with Eren. The wound is still fresh -whether or not it took place a few weeks ago, the pain of being ripped away from your lover over your ideals isn't a wound that's easy to close and additionally it's rather hard when you know nothing can come of an attempt to reconcile. But Jean can't just silently stand to watch you destroy your self and your relationships with people who care about you.

Each passing day you trade your words for mumbles and grunts, your signs of affection into powerful punches aimed either at that old black dummy you were hugging a few seconds or at a vast amount of metas during nighttime patrols. Knowing you and how you handle such outrages, Jean is sure that at this point you've smashed your fists against each and every single one of these gray marble colored walls, only holding back your self as to not smash Armin's tech corner. But before he gets a chance to shake his head in the slightest only to get ready to mouth his comfort speech to you, the automatic glass doors to the room open.

Turning his head around, Jean is met with Connie and Armin as they enter the room, both of them sparing him their most confused look upon inspecting the scene unraveling before them. Jean shrugs his shoulders, throwing his hands up in defeat, his eyes traveling quickly between you and his friends, signaling them you're proving to be difficult to deal with once again.

As the door behind him closes with a woosh Connie sucks on the inside of his cheek, trapping the tender gum between his teeth, his lips puckering slightly as he looks at you, his otherwise playful eyes now squinted in worry.

"What?" You speak, pressing your lips together and pushing them to the side of your face. Reluctantly, you cock a brow to Connie's direction.

"Me?" With his thumb to exaggerate the word, Connie points to himself and the proceeds to take a few steps towards Jean. Finally, he bends his hand, resting his fist over his hip, throwing his weight onto one leg. "You're the one with the constipated expression."

"Give me a break everyone" you shrug, shaking your head in defeat.

"Sasha said you pushed yourself too far last night during patrol."

"Yeah, so what?" You ask, batting your eyes to the male trio. You're probably as unamused as they are at this point.

You notice how Armin is the one to let out a sigh next, his blonde hair swaying by the force of air that exits his mouth. He's angrily clapping his foot to the ground while clenching his fists to his sides, his baby blue eyes fixated on you. You bring the top of your finger to your head, scratching the skin just below your ear, your foot awkwardly rocking back and forth. It's almost as if no one in the room can avoid the the upcoming conversation right now.

All Armin sees is that your lip is split, bruised much like your eyebrow and a part of your jaw. There's a lot of dried blood on each tiny wound, but the amount is enough to make up for the lack of proper patching and the sight is heartbreaking to the point it makes the blond's blood boil. If Armin could find it in himself to utter a word he would be able to name a good amount of reasons as to why he was enraged with you. One of them being the fact that you've been brutalizing yourself in the streets every night and another one that you've been definitely pushing yourself even more during training, aiming to shut yourself off of your team completely.

"Armin, if you have something to say, then just shoot it."

The way you poke at him is reluctant and nervous in nature. Your jaws clutch together, your shivering teeth making tiny chattering sounds. Armin parts his lips, placing a hand on the gray colored wall behind him, hanging his head down in nervousness. In all reality, he shouldn’t speak his mind, he knows that very well, his personal empathetic feelings for Eren don’t exactly have a reason to have an impact in this situation. Furthermore he’s simply the intel guy, the only member of the team in the team that doesn’t participate in any heroic or vigilantic activity. To interfere with your nightime business would probably harm him more than anyone in the end. As your friend he had to take a stance on what you were going through.

“We’ve all been hurt by Eren.” That’s all that Armin manages to say before putting his feet to work, matching silently to his computer corner, “But, that’s why we are a team. We’re supposed to hold each other when things go wrong. And you need us as much as we need you.”

Rubbing your eyes with your pointer fingers, you let out a deep sigh. When you look up Connie and Jean are half smiling at you, their thumbs pointing upwards and for a fragment of a second, you manage to crack a small smile. You feel your eyes burning slightly, their fleshy corners stinging, but you refuse to let yoyr tears flow now, despite being moved by your friends’ word and noble intentions you keep your emotional breakdown to yourself. You only hope the males are convinced by your small smile.

“Armin has the intel on Zeke’s cargo shipment!” Connie says and immediately his ribs are crushed by Jean’s elbow. “What?”

“Stupiid. We’re not supposed to stress her!”

“It’s fine guys, this is our job.”

Connie links his arm with yours, your sweaty skin littering his long sleeve shirt but he pays the action absolutely no mind, not as much as you at least, and then he proceeds to stick his tongue out to Jean. Jean twitches his eyebrow at him, seemingly irritated by his friend’s smug expression and picks up his feet, marching as fast as you do, trying to catch up. The playful atmosphere is lifting you up, you can definately feel your previous mood lighten by each passing second.

“Speak Armin!” Connie playfully dictates squeishing your elbow in the process.

Armin lets out a laugh, fixing his glasses on the bridge of his nose, his eyes glimmering under the bright blue light of the numerous screens.

“Fine, look,” he says clicking on a tab on the middle screen’s task manager The tab pops up, shining a bright white light thats making your eyes squint. Armin then clicks on some folders and signs at you to wait until the images load. When in turn they pop up, they reveal numerous hsots of the titans new hideaway. Some photos are showing Zeke and his gang standing before it, then entering it. You even catch a glimpse of Pieck, the flash of raven hair is much more evident now that shes standing between her blonde team members.

“Do we have the adress?” Jean asks and you can’t help but notice that the look in his eyes is darkening in an a mere instant.

“It’s in alleyway near the port. Although the front is standing proudly on a very well lit place in 6th Avenue.” You nod steadily, sliding your hand upwards to give a comforting touch to Connie’s fingers that are still linked to the inside of your elbow. “Levi gave me the intel to investigate, he came across them the other day and then he searched for security cameras, you know the drill.”

Jean raises his voice authoritatively and sternly as he points to some photos, informing Armin that he needs to investiagte the area around them and prompts you an Connie to do the same as well. He says that it’s necessary to know the area you’ll be oparating on in the following days. You simply nod, extending yor hand to Armin’s direction to point in which pictures you want him to send you and he does as you say not even giving it a second thought.

“Please don’t send them to Eren.”

You pretend to be shocked, but in reality you're not. You understand where Armin is coming from when he mouths the statement, but you assure him that you won't try to communicate with Eren for any reason. You're in no place to put yourself through such thing, not now, not until your job is done.

...

Pushing on his feet, Eren rushes all of his power to his heels, sending his self in the air. He takes a spin mid air, opening his arms wide on either of his sides after he grabs one the guns that rest on the cases that are tied to his breeches. He manages to grab a new line of bullets moments before he lands and he proceeds to shove it to the butt of the gun, the action sending the loud sound of metal colliding filling the air.

As expectedly, he lands on his feet. The annoying rush of his whole body weight on his heels doesn't bother him anymore, he's grown so used to it that it's become a routine. He throws a quickly glance behind him, making sure Flotch and Yelena are right behind him, running silently on their own pace, jumping from building to building.

"Yelena!" Eren shouts "I'm leaving Pieck and Porco to you. Go for the kill the moment you see an opening. And Flotch" he turns his head to the redhead, his voice reeked in authority even though it was muffled by his metallic helmet "Don't let any hero follow my tracks. No casualties. We're proving a point."

Flotch nods rapidly without uttering another word and spares a look to Yelena before they take turns to opposite directions. Eren continues to run straight ahead, his heavy combat boots clashing with various rooftops as he stomps on each one of them with force.

He immediately stops on his tracks as he catches a glimpse of blond hair in an alley. Peaking his head from the edge of a rooftop, he clicks on the side of his helmet, pushing the button that allowed the goggle feature in his helmet to activate.

Zooming in he sees you, your hands clad in an x above your head as you try to avoid the metallic rock like weapons Zeke is throwing at you with full force. Your left foot is thrown back, fully extended while your right leg is bent, your position providing stability as you try to push past and through Zeke's attack.

Through the distracting commotion, Zeke manages to get close enough to you and Eren watches as he lifts his left leg up, getting ready to clash it onto your head. Eren knows, Zeke's force can easily knock you out for several minutes; if he can break through walls with raw fists, Eren can't even phantom what the full capacity of his brute attack can do to your head.

Eren hisses to himself as he stands on his knees, clenching his fists to himself. Quickly enough the skin under his gloves hardens, forming an iron like material over his knuckles. He briefly makes sure they'd hard enough for the attack he has calculated in his mind by rubbing over his knuckles tenderly.

He inhales a good amount of air, his chest filling to the max as he tried on concentrating on his breathing. Regulating his heartbeat is important but he doesn't have enough time, Zeke is in the midst of throwing another wave of metallic rocks in your way. Suddenly Eren stands on his feet for a brief moment before proceeding to take a jump into the alleyway.

The next thing he knows is that his hardened fist lands exactly where he wanted to on Zeke's face, breaking his nose, the bone crashing and shattering making a horrid popping noise that echoes through the cobblestone walls.

His foot sets to find a way to your stomach, pushing a warning kick but with enough force to send you flying in the air, only for a short period of time though. Grunting, you land in a rooftop, clutching onto your pained stomach, coughing up a few breaths that were stuck in your chest upon impact.

Eren makes a fatal mistake; he turns his head to check up on you, momentarily letting down his guard as some form of guilt runs through him. The blond only manages to grasp onto that tiny fragment of his distraction.

Zeke is out of breath as he runs at his full capacity, counting down the seconds to make it to the end of the alley to escape Eren. Eren is fast, faster than the last time Zeke encountered him and slightly more buff, the blond can make out his muscles twitching in rage as he puts his weight onto the tips of his feet, running restlessly behind him. Eren grabs the spare gun that rests on his right thigh with one hand, the shiny spikes that decorate each side of the gun that could possibly land on him at any given moment dazzling him.

Deciding he can't avoid Eren for too long -hes practically right behind him at the very moment- Zeke turns on his feet and sets his right foot behind his left one, tightening his fists as he feels strength rush through his body.

Eren jumps onto him first delivering the first blow, careful not to take the fist that is aimed to him. He bucks down for a split second, avoiding Zeke's second blow and jumps, splitting his feet so that his left leg collides with Zeke's jaw. The blonde leaves a grunt of pain through his mouth, falling back in haze.

With a mid air spin, Eren lands a few meters away from Zeke. He wastes no time in allowing Zeke to catch his breath; he jumps, knee first to deliver a second kick, thought this time it fails to cause the damage he wants. Zeke catches him by the knee the moment he runs into him, gripping with animalistic force, managing to clash the iron kneecap Eren wears for protection.

Zeke lets out a scream as he lands his fist fiercely on Eren's helmet, successfully breaking a hole in it, the kevlar enhanced plastic helmet making a huge shattering sound, its pieces falling anywhere to the concrete ground bellow, some other smaller ones digging their way into Eren's skin.

The act enrages Eren; he backs away bringing his glived fist to wipe on what he figures is blood that's running from his lip. He watches as Zeke takes the chance to turn on his tracks to leave but he resents the act, he bucks slightly to his knees and proceeds to run full speed in his direction, his ultimate goal setting on tackling his brother.

"You're not getting away." Eren spits angrily.

"You've been practicing on your heroic puns haven't you little brother?" Zeke doesn't turn his head back to face Eren, the end of the alley is only a few meters away now, and he'd like to think that he can make it.

The elbow that crushes onto his face and send him in a momentary haze though does definitely belong to Eren. One because despite the vertigo that engulfs him, he can still hear Eren's iron clad footsteps and two because his body never hits the ground when the elbow detaches from his face.

"Where are you running off to Beast?"

Looking up with half lid eyes Zeke smiles a crooked line with his lips, nodding his head to greet you. You huff through your nose with determination, tightening the fist of your hand, causing Zeke to feel squished by the invisible grip you have on him. He squirms in place kicking his feet and expanding his palm.

"Are you here to save me from your lover boy?" Zeke bites at you loudly and your eyes quickly follow Eren's running form, noticing how his helmet is cracked open. Even if it angers you to see him, you try not to let it show right now. It would only take a tiny slips up for Zeke to manage and take the opportunity to outsmart you and challenge you into a physical battle.

"You're not getting away this time, nice try." You shout, freezing his feet with the slightest move of your hand.

Unexpectedly, Eren jumps, gripping Zeke's foot and hanging from it, tagging at the limb with all force. The eye that isn't masked by his helmet is definitely fixed onto you, worrying its glimmer into your soul. You despairately try to brush it off.

Shaking your head you look around to find anything in which you can move Zeke to help Eren land onto. The ground doesn't seem like a good option, Zeke is smart enough to know you can't last long if you have to let go of the mental grip you're forcing on him. You panic as you figure out that he soon will realise your grip on him is able to wobble enough for him to beat your control over him.

"Hand him over (y/n)." Eren screams in your direction, batting his eye to your direction.

You notice Zeke squirming into your grasp as horrified expression proceeds his face. His eyebrows point upwards causing strong rolls of skin to appear on his forehead, his lips curl down in worry and his eyes widen to their max.

"Can't do that!" You turn to Zeke, shooting him a reassuring look, letting him know you wouldn't allow his assassination before your very eyes.

You only understand how foolish you've been to do so when you watch Zeke take a deep breath. Initially you assume he wants to fill his lungs with oxygen due to your harsh grip and you slowly process in your mind the possibilities of what can happen if you chose to loosen your hold on him. It's only when Zeke lets out an eardrum piercing screech that you curse under your breath feeling your mental grip growing weak. Zeke throws you a sorry smile, startling you enough to take a wrong footing on the brick rooftop you're standing on.

You feel your powers flicker even more, to the point it reminds you of a dying flame but you refuse to believe you've reached the end of your potential use of your own meta ability. You pay no attention to Eren and his momentarily twitching as you try to focus on catching your breath. All it should take is a moment, all you need is a moment to calm down your pounding heart and then-

Bam! Bam! Bam!

You sense Zeke slipping away from you unexpectedly and your mouth falls agape, your hands rushing to your ears, despairate to offer protection and and comfort to the buzzing pain you're feeling. Glancing around you notice Eren swirling his gun in his thigh case, smoke emitting from the small opening of the gun, the smell of gunpowder tingling in your nostrils. Even if you're hazy you immediately understand what has happened; Eren's bullets, following Zeke's coordinate scream sent warning shots to his comrades, letting them know of his exact location and if you could guess correctly, giving them information on his situation.

"AH!" Zeke screams in agony, averting your gaze to the commotion that starts to go down on the concrete ground as the Yeager bothers land forcefully on it. Eren's gun is smashed to his brother's head, the iron spikes splitting his cheek open upon impact.

"No!" Your eyes widen as you scream, your body moving to take a quick leap down the side of the rooftop, send bricks to stray into the air as you slide down onto them.

Eren's fists are bouncing quickly onto Zeke's head and torso, taking turns to avoid being overworked. Your eyebrow is twitching automatically, your head is practically on fire, your veins popping and flowing with hit throbs and painful sudden rashes of blood. Eren won't react to your screams, you assume his own adrenaline is covering up the sound of your voice for him.

You land right on top of Eren, sending him in collision with Zeke, crashing his jaw onto his brothers chest. The males let out pained mutters, cursing under their breaths as you push your body weight harder onto them.

"Eren don't do this."

You take Eren's torso into your arms, using as much strength as you can manage to press his back into your chest. You ignore the way your heart painfully spreads up, similarly to the way a schoolgirl's at the sight of her crush, you resist the urge to rest your head on Eren's shoulder from the back like you would have done had the circumstances been any different. You only squeal as you try to transfer all your strength to your hands, your feet giving in and your chest heaving as you try to pull Eren even further into you.

"Get off of me." Eren screams thrashing his hands around with enough strength to shoo your grip on him away.

"No!" You chatter, squinting him even more. "You're not killing your own brother."

"Fucking hell, let me go."

Your hand mechanically searches for Eren's thigh even though your vision is still blurry. You're practically ravaging him with one hand for a few seconds, despairately clinging onto whatever resembled the touch of a gun.

"I'm not going to let you do this." You say, pressing him further into you, your heart basically hammering in its skeleton binds.

If Eren believes the guy with gun is always right in a fight, you have to point a gun at him to prove his own point to him. Right?

You clad your arms under his arpits, securing your grip onto the top of his shoulder as you manage to flick him off, balancing his weight onto both your knees. With a jump, you land on your wobbly feet, your iron clad heels making loud thuds as you jolt your body slightly to Eren's direction. Your wrist flicks, signing to Zeke's hands and consecuentially they come together, seemingly tied up by invisible imaginary bounds.

A harden expression masks your face as you point the edge of the gun to Eren, pushing it mere inches away from his face, the cold metal flushing with the outside parts of his helmet.

"Take it off, slowly." You order, your stern eyes never bowing the the puppy like eyes Eren is pointing at you. "I'm the guy with the gun, if you're smart you do as I say." You turn your face to the right, now pointing directly to Zeke. "You too Beast."

Under any other circumstance you would have felt your heart melt at the sight to your left; bellow his helmet Eren is battered, bruised and he's glistering with swear and grease -you assume it's from the creaks of his head cover- this sight should be enough for you to throw the gun away from your hand, or destroy it with your powers.

Eren hisses as his hands move to click on the securing buttons of his helmet, the lightweight iron thrashing into more pieces as it comes undone, the damage it had undergone seemingly unredeemable. You sighed internally, Eren has more than a dozen of them back at his place, so replacing this one wont be an issue, fortunatelly. Your hard eyes never leave him, his own turqouise orbs fixating on you the moment his helmet is put to the ground. His hands shoot up in defeat, his palms extended as he stares at you with an annoyed expression.

“Fine? Got what you wanted?”

“Eren!” you utter, stomping your foot to the ground.

You don’t realise at first -yet it doesn’t slip Eren- but the gun is quaking in your hand. With your trembling hand mere inches before him, it’s hard not to notice in the end, but he spares you of the embarassment for a second, he focuses on how to get himself out of this situation first.

“Sorry, babe.” Eren smiles at you, using his feet to flip himself off of the ground, pushing his weight onto his torse for his feet to levitate off the ground. Shook and thrown off by his sudden act, the gun in your hand slips and you squeal, yur grip on Zeke unfocusing as your powers dictate Eren to come to an halt midair. His body thrashes down to the ground, grunts of agony coming out of his chest.

It happens before you even have a chance to blink; your powers are weakened, Eren screams an ear piercing screech and Zeke starts running towards your direction. Multiple bangs echo through the air and you don’t even have a chance to look up to pinpoint where their source lays, your neck is looped on the inside of an elbow but at this point all you can see is black and white as your ears ring dangerously.

“Zeke! Let her go!” Eren screams, his eyes pacing between Zeke and the new additions to the scene, Flotch and Yelena. They both point their guns to Zeke’s direction, panting and Eren is panting as well, his mouth running miles ahead of his brain. He knows he’s in a sticky situation, left unarmed hen Zeke has managed to grab the gun you dropped, shot on the left bicept, but it’s nothing compared to you

Thick crimson fell in gushes from your head, sipping slightly to the cavity at the edge of your mouth, rushing down the painful path to your neck. Your costume seeped in it, the cloth furiously sipping like a hungry vampire as more blood run over it. Eren didn't dare move his hands, only his real orbs paced between his team members, remaining wide open, despairate to light up in any frail solution he could think of.

"If I let her go, you'll let me take my leave."

Eren's brain throbbed, the coiling cavities swelling and shrinking. He examined the possibilities and went over his options like a madman, there were a few ways in which he could entrust Zeke's extermination to Yelena and Flotch, he could even manage to grab you in the midst of it and bring you to safety. The bullet Zeke has shot towards you hadn't planted its way into your head, it had only scratched over the surface, he should be able to stop the bleeding if he could manage to bring you to safety.

If he was completely honest, he could have numerous opportunies to kill Zeke, he couldn't bring you back though in any case you died.

"Fine." He said, throwing his hands up in defeat. "Get it your way."

"No funny games brother."

With a piercing look thrown at Yelena, Eren leaped a step towards Zeke. The blonde and the redhead lowered their guns pointing their cranes to the cobblestone ground. Eren's iron enhanced footsteps filled the teeny alleyway but they came to an halt as soon as they began. Zeke brought a hand to his nose, pinching the tip slightly despite the fact that his glasses had been shattered to pieces his digits still went for his habitual action of fixing them on his diaphragm.

When Zeke's footing dug into the ground, the material screeching from the intense friction Eren widened his eyes. With your head in his palm he rushed into the wall, blood drenched (h/c) tresses sticking onto his tan skin. With a huge thud he smashed your head against the wall, a roar blurting its way out of the depths of his chest. Then, his feet made the best out of their existence, running as fast as they could, if these were his last moments, at least he caused some mayhem and pain to live up to his reputation.

Eren didn't even have a chance to jump into the commotion in time yet he leaped on your side with your name falling out of his lips in the form of a scream. With no need to be commanded to Yelena and Flotch raised their guns at Zeke, shooting while launching on his direction, leaving Eren and your unconscious body behind.

...

"There's no hope for us right?"

You were dying.

Sprawled over a gray cement built rooftop that paid homage to Trost's biggest neon sign you were taking your last few breaths. And Eren was the only one to blame.

You laid rested on his lap, his hand frozen over the roots of your hair as he felt how tangled they felt with all the dried blood on them. Electric blue neon light fell over his shoulders in the mellowest way, creating a halo over his body, his messy hair and all of its stray strands sticking out as the contrasted the light.

"I'm sorry I brought you here at a moment like this. But since you always said you wanted us to hang out here"

Eren paused to sniffle the little goo at the tip of his nose. A burning sensation in his chest chocked him, it crushed his lungs under an iron grip, the splash of blood and flesh echoing inside his torso. His stomach fell and repositioned itself, his gut churned, his eyes solidified pain in the form of hot, salty tears.

"I couldn't think of anything else."

There wasn't any hope for you. Your skull was cracked open beyond saving, your forehead was jabbed and crushed, your eye bloody and scarlet where bright white should have been. Your nose was broken and crooked. It was only a matter of sorrowful moments before life left your body but Eren couldn't bring himself to help you into descenting faster into the light.

"You probably can't even listen to me. But I love you, always did, always will. I never meant what I said that night. About not knowing why I was with you."

Tears ran down his face, his chest quacking in endless sobs that he tried to muffle. But he couldn't help it, despite having grown into a silent nonchalant adult, he still couldn't push past the hurt if losing someone that close to him. Whatever facade he had ever tried to put on himself was crumbling down in seconds before you, right in this very moment.

"Levi's on his way to take you to a hospital." He announced, yet he doubted you could listen. His hands wiped furiously at his stinging and painful tears. The drops of blood that entered his eyes made him hiss even further.

A bloody palm came to cup under your jaw, and Eren hissed as he felt the bone going stiff. He refused to believe it, he refused to believe your mouth had locked, he refused to believe it was happening. For all that matters he didn't want this to be your last shared moment.

From afar he could see Levi and his former friends approaching, the sound of sirens complimenting the background as the neon sign started buzzing and flickering behind him. When Levi finally stepped his foot to your direction he spoke no word, much like the rest of the team, except for Mikasa who shot him a comforting glare and a pat on the forearm.

Eren watches as Levi checked for your pulse and took you over his back, your body laying numb over his own. He spoke no words as he watched the man pull away and roam between buildings before disappearing. As the neon sign behind him made a chirpy, electronic voice and spurt a few sparks of quickly dissolving fire three more hands came to rest on his shoulders. Jean, Connie and Sasha had all silently tried to seek for a way to comfort him, confiding into mimicking Mikasa. 

 Eren knew he wouldn't ever have the chance to see you illuminated by the cobalt neon light again.

Taglist: @levisbrat25 @nobody-knows-anymore @callmepromise @melancholicmonologue @ladyofpandemonium @alrightberries

Super special thanks to my baby @sasageyowrites and my dear @aichiin (if you don’t check out her art i will be mad!)

[frankendeers]

I am Made of Love and It’s Stronger Than You: Steven Universe and Models of Queer Resistance in Science-Fiction

Chapter 1. Science-Fiction and Resistance in Queer Subjectivity 

“In other words, queer resistances emerge when the mechanisms of heteronormativity are exposed, when the concepts of gender and sexuality are being rearticulated in ways that defy the exclusion of subjects whose identities, desires, and practices are considered contradictory and unintelligible, and when ‘the presumption of heterosexuality’ no longer holds.” (Dhaenens, Articulations of Queer Resistance 4). 

In order to articulate how Steven Universe makes use of Science-fiction conventions to explore models of queer resistance, it is first necessary to examine how queerness is woven into the fabric of its setting. Although Gems as a species are distinctly queer, their society serves as a metaphor for the various ways the centre seeks to regulate categories of identity and desire. This section will not only demonstrate how the show utilises its speculative elements to express different modes of queerness, but also argue that herein lies a possibility for resistance. In the world of Steven Universe, queerness is not merely a vector for non-normative forms of desire and expression but also a powerful tool to dismantle systems of oppression. Refusing to assimilate to the hegemonic discourse means exposing the artificial processes with which these are constructed and denaturalising them in the process. These forms of denaturalisation function simultaneously as a legitimising force for queer subjectivities. It will, furthermore become clearer, how Steven Universe sees queerness in itself as a force of positivity. 

1.1. Gender and Performativity 

One of the most notable aspects of the show is the fact that all members of its alien race, the Gems, are presenting as female. Due to his hybrid nature, Steven is the only alien character to exhibit a male gender identity. This immediately separates Steven Universe from the values of hegemonic society which usually sees the masculine as representative of universality: “[…] the female body is marked within masculine discourse, whereby the masculine body, in its conception with the universe, remains unmarked.” (Butler, Gender Trouble 17). The show subverts the expectation of maleness being an unquestioned neutral, by never fully explaining why the gems refer to themselves using female pronouns and to what extent they actually identify with womanhood. Instead, Steven Universe asks the viewer to accept this premise and, in the process, turn the feminine into the new “unmarked” position. 

While the idea of single gender alien societies is not new, it is indicative of science-fiction’s power of questioning “heteronormative implications of progress” by “reimagining […] gender, sexuality, and identity.” (Thibodeau 263). In other words, while the Gems are repeatedly shown to be a highly advanced species, their singular gender separates them from the concept of heterosexuality. In fact, the heterosexual matrix cannot operate in Gem society, as it relies on both the existence of a rigid gender binary and the stability of the two genders it represents (cp. Butler, Gender Trouble 184). 

Steven Universe’s Gem race adhere to neither standard. Thomas adds that the Gems themselves have no biological sex or gender identity, in a way that humans might understand, therefore inviting queer analysis (cp. Thomas 4). Seeing as Gems are “outside of human conceptualisations of sex and gender” (cp. Férnandez 64), it only follows that their means of reproduction must also differentiate itself from human ideas about birth and sexual intercourse. In its place, the show offers an alternative model that shows Gems as artificially grown in gigantic plantations referred to as “kindergardens” (“On the Run”). The inorganic nature of Gem production completely subverts the heterosexual narrative around the importance of birth and family making. Such an analysis harkens back to Lee Edelman’s polemic No Future: Queer Theory and The Death Drive. Here, Edelman famously argues that the centring of the Child as the symbol for heterosexual reproduction stands in direct opposition to queerness. The Child is used to always deflect political action onto the future, stalling meaningful change (cp. Edelman 3). For Gems, neither children nor heterosexual reproduction are of any concern. The show establishes that they “burst out of the earth’s crust already knowing what they’re supposed to be” (“Greg the Babysitter” 06:50— 06:59). By utilising the genre of science-fiction, Steven Universe thus suggests to the audience that a separation of creating life and heterosexuality is possible, which broadens the perspectives about queer possibilities. 

The possibilities configured in the show’s alien species also expand to the realms of more profound matters of queer identity. The episode “Steven the Sword Fighter” reveals that Gem bodies are not material. A Gem’s consciousness is merely stored within her gem which in turn projects the body to the outside world. Therefore, a Gem’s appearance is merely “a conscious manifestation of light” (“Last One Out Of Beach City” 09:46—09:50). This feature of alien biology relates to Judith Butler’s theory on the performativity of gender. According to her work Gender Trouble: Feminism and the Subversion of Identity, gender is not essential nor innate, but produced through repeated performative acts. These behaviours are regulated by cultural norms which then are projected onto the body: “[…] [A]cts, gestures, and desire produce the effect of an internal core or substance, but produce this on the surface of the body, through play of signifying absences that suggest, but not reveal, the organizing principle of identity as a cause. Such acts, gestures, enactments, generally construed, are to express fabrications manufactured and sustained through corporeal signs and other discursive means.” (Butler, Gender Trouble 188). True to this notion, the Gems reflect their identity onto their bodies, proving that, at least for them “gender is always a doing” (Butler, Gender Trouble 34). Steven Universe successfully shows by means of alien biology how femininity is a performance that can be presented by anyone or anything (cp. Thomas 6). This is a notion that is conform with queer theory’s aim of rendering essentialist notions of identity obsolete (cp. Hall 93) and contributes to the larger goal of achieving queer liberation. 

The ways the different characters make use of their abilities to play with gender are manifold and reflective of their progression as characters.  Valentín rightfully states that one of the more interesting aspects of the show is the unique ways in which all characters straddle the lines between masculinity and femininity (cp. Valentín 203). 

Amethyst in particular promises deeper insights into the potential of different configurations of gender and identity. As Gem bodies are essentially illusions, Gems have the explicit power to shapeshift, stressing the usefulness of speculative elements for queer explorations. Here, Amethyst stands out as she makes use of this power the most, constantly shifting between different appearances. She impersonates people, turns into animals, and even embodies inanimate objects for her own amusement. The casualness with which she regards shapeshifting show cases a fluid stance towards identity that is explicitly revelling in the act of imitation and queers her abilities. Moreover, it could even be said that Amethyst constantly parodies the notion of identity itself and mocks those with a more rigid mindset. Thomas implies that her experimentation with different gender expressions suggests a complicated relationship to identity, while still remaining open and playful (cp. Thomas 6). When Steven’s father, Greg, tells her, he is uncomfortable with shapeshifting, she transforms into him and replies: “Oh, I forgot. You’re so sensitive.” (“Maximum Capacity” 09:00—09:10). For Eli Dunn, these instances can force the viewer to recognise the implications of gender as a construct in ways that hold meaning for making a queer worldview more accessible: “The ability of the Gems to change their gender representation at will is a type of magic that fundamentally disconnects notions of gender from gender identity in the mind of the viewer. When the viewer is told that the Gems bodies are constructed and unreal, the viewer is forced to reconsider the implications of the female coded body traits […]” (Dunn 47). 

Regardless, Amethyst’s queer approach towards identity does not mean a complete disconnection to the concept itself. On the contrary, the effects of internalised self-hatred are most visible in Amethyst’s expressions of body variance. A later episode shows Amethyst’s physical body being repeatedly destroyed, forcing her to retreat into her Gem and regenerate (“Reformed”). Due to her impatience, she does not undergo the process as intended and returns in a deformed state. As the episode continues, her teammates chastise her to do it properly, leading to her spitefully taking on more and more ridiculous forms. While doing so, she mocks the notions of what constitutes a “proper” body at all: “Just as bodily surfaces are enacted as the natural, so these surfaces can become the site of a dissonant and denaturalizes performance that reveals the performative status of the natural itself.” (Butler, Gender Trouble 200). In this way, Amethyst’s alien abilities function as a tool of critique, revealing how the body can act as performance. The interesting part is, that Amethyst’s questioning of bodily norms does not only read as  decisively queer, but also thematises how repressive norms can affect an individual. 

As Gem society is extraordinarily normative, Amethysts are expected to attain a certain standard of height. Even though shapeshifting is a possibility for Gems, the ability requires conscious effort and is therefore not sustainable. It is because of this reason that Amethyst’s lack of height is considered a defect on Homeworld. Melzer states that identity performance always acts within a “highly regulative set of norms” which dictate what is considered a valid representative of any given category (cp. Melzer 43). Amethyst moves between gendered positions by means of coping with Gem society finding her to be insufficient. As height is often associated with strength and masculinity, Amethyst occasionally takes on the wrestling persona of “Purple Puma” (“Tiger Millionaire”). While in this form, she towers over ordinary people, exhibiting a flat, hairy chest and uses masculine pronouns for herself (cp. Valentín 204). Jack Halberstam recognises that some forms of female masculinity are a form of “social rebellion” or “the place of pathology” wherein women use masculine signifiers to escape restrictive expectations (cp. Halberstam, Female Masculinity 9). These observations are in accordance with Butler’s assertion that gender as a performance is “open to splitting, self-parody, self-criticism, and those hyperbolic exhibitions of “the natural” that, in their very exaggeration, reveal its fundamentally phantasmic status.” (Butler, Gender Trouble 200). 

Not only does Amethyst’s repeated mockery of body and gender norms expose them as illusions, but the show itself hints at experimentation with identity possibly alleviating feelings of inadequacy. Amethyst confesses later that she does not need the figure of Purple Puma anymore, as she now accepts herself the way she is: “I needed it when I felt like I wasn’t good enough. But I don’t feel that way anymore” (“Tiger Philanthropist” 07:10—07:16). Nevertheless, the show manages to avoid pathologizing queerness. The end of the episode shows Amethyst return to her alter ego, not in search for validation but because her time as a wrestler “meant everything (to her)” (“Tiger Philanthropist” 09:03—09:06). Without disregarding the play on parodic masculinity as a coping mechanism, Steven Universe attests a healing quality to the experimentation with gender. The alien body is presented as the site of social criticism, as well as positive connotations to queerness itself. These positive feelings towards queerness are depicted as harbouring an immense power for resisting further oppression. 

How an acceptance of one’s own status as a queered entity can be harvested for resistance, is perfectly encapsulated in Amethyst’s confrontation with the enemy Gem Jasper. The parallels between these two opposing factions are clear: Jasper, similarly to Amethyst, was created to be a Homeworld soldier. Contrary to Amethyst, however, Jasper is described as the perfect example of what her specific Gem type should be (cp. “Beta”). Jasper herself asserts her superiority and makes clear the consequences of not fulfilling Homeworld’s demands: “Every Gem is made for a purpose: to serve the order of the Diamonds. Those who cannot fit inside this order must be purged!” (“Earthlings” 02:00— 02:06). In this sense, Jasper functions as the embodiment of Homeworld’s hegemonic discourse that excludes undesirable bodies and identities. She looks down on queerness and explicitly connects her abilities to serve the rigid system to her own worth: “Fighting is my life! It’s what I was made for! It is what you were made for too, runt.” (“Crack the Whip” 07:35—07:42). As Jasper repeatedly judges Amethyst according to normative standards of body and identity, Amethyst’s desire for victory over Jasper is framed as Amethyst complying to Homeworld’s demands. Instead of accepting her difference and alignment to queered identities, Amethyst attempts to meet Jasper on her terms which can only result in failure: “Steven... I can't win. No matter what I do, no matter how hard I work, she came out right, and I came out... wrong...” (“Earthlings” 03:54—04:05). It is when Steven redirects her focus onto the strength of their shared status as queer subjectivities, that they decide to team up: “That's just what Jasper thinks. She's the only one who thinks you should be like her! Stop trying to be like Jasper. You're nothing like Jasper! You're like me! Because we're both not like anybody.” (“Earthlings” 04:05— 04:18). In this way, Amethyst’s acceptance of her queered body leads to a connection to Steven as an ally in shared marginalisation. Their subsequent fusion defeats Jasper with ease where both of them alone where unable to do so. 

Although fusion will be examined in detail later, its role in this encounter is particularly meaningful. Fusion, as the process of merging bodies, revolves around the feminine realms of emotional connection and the queer concept of blurring the boundaries of body and mind, turning it into the perfect metaphor for the strength of acceptance and unity for queer liberation purposes. In contrast to Jasper, Amethyst’s closeness to fluid identities and queerness makes it easier for her to engage in fusion and find strength. While it is true that Steven Universe does not negate physical limitations, the show proposes queer solidarity and self-acceptance as means of liberation. 

The theme of gender expression standing in direct correlation to healing is also explored from a different angle in the character of Pearl. Pearl’s relationship to gender fluidity and performative identity is best understood when analysed through the lenses of lesbianism and female masculinity. Naturally, this beckons the question of how technically genderless aliens can be regarded lesbian. This is deeply connected to the nature of the category woman itself. Jack Halberstam criticises the mindset of restricting the boundaries of womanhood while leaving the lines of masculinity open: “[…] why is it [….] that one finds the limits of femininity so quickly whereas the limits of masculinity [….] seem fairly expansive?” (Halberstam, Female Masculinity 28). The policing of womanhood can be traced back to the masculine as unquestioned neutral territory when the feminine is only allowed to be represented by a highly specific set of features. When we return to Butler, the problem starts to dissolve in her theory of performativity. Womanhood is a set of behaviours and not dictated by biology: “The very subject of women is no longer understood in stable or abiding terms.” (Butler, Gender Trouble 2). The category of woman is henceforth rendered queer, as it is unstable and subject to change. 

To regard Pearl as a woman and lesbian is therefore to view her identity not in terms of heteronormative discourses of biology, but allowing for the possibility to extrapolate valuable insights about gendered positions in society: “However, in an exploration of the fundamental instability of the category “women” does not find against feminism but, in resisting the urge to foreclose prematurely that category, licenses new possibilities for a feminism that constitutes “women” as the effect of, not the prerequisite for, its inquiries.” (Jagose, Way Out 273). With regards to the popular definition of lesbians as women cultivating romantic relationship with other women, identifying Pearl as a lesbian is a valid point of analysis. Steven Universe takes great care to repeatedly emphasise and explore the relationship between Pearl and Steven’s mother, Rose. The romantic attraction Pearl harbours for Rose defines her character and affects most of her actions throughout the course of the show. Interestingly, her progression in terms of lesbian affiliations and resistance towards Homeworld’s demands are reflected onto her body in increasingly explicit ways. Pearl embodies a progression into female masculinity where her gender performance changes with her widening understanding of liberation. This harkens back to Halberstam’s identification of female masculinity as a tool to subvert masculine power by turning a “blind eye to conventional masculinities and refusing to engage” (Halberstam, Female Masculinity 9). 

To understand this better, one needs to examine the role Pearl is meant to fulfil in the social hierarchy of her home planet. Pearls, as a category of Gems, are made to serve and entertain elite Gems: “[…] Pearls aren’t made for this. They are meant for looking nice and holding your stuff for you […]” (“Back to the Barn” 03:02—03:12). Pearls are therefore, more than other Gem categories, marked with femininity and womanhood. Simone de Beauvoir remarks upon women’s role as subservient to  masculine powers, always forced to obey as the perpetual Other (cp. de Beauvoir 29). Pearls are not only meant for the purpose of servitude, but also reduced to their appearance which usually mirrors that of her master: Upon examining Pearl, a Homeworld Gem remarks: “It looks like a fancy one, too. Who do you belong to anyway?” (“Back to the Barn” 03:38—03:42). Pearl herself disturbs these lines and expresses liberation through a refusal of participation in the hegemony of Homeworld, going as far as to openly rebel against it. 

The progression becomes ever so clearer when the programme offers a flashback to show how Pearl conducted herself on Homeworld. Her dress is designed to be decidedly feminine while she defaults to a subservient body position. As Homeworld demands conformity to the role of a “Pearl”, the parallels to earth’s gender discourse become highly visible. Despite the Gem at the core of their being serving as the only material reality behind their existence, Homeworld society expects a certain set of presentation and behaviours from each Gem. Deviation from the norm is not allowed and can be met with punishment. With regards to her latter transformation, Pearl’s position on Homeworld recalls Butler: “Femininity is taken on by a woman who ‘wishes for masculinity,’ but fears the retributive consequences of taking on the public appearance of masculinity.” (Butler, Gender Trouble 70). After Pearl flees to earth and joins a rebellion against Homeworld’s regime, her presentation and performance become masculinised. She takes up sword fighting, fully knowing that this is not acceptable for a Pearl (“Sworn to the Sword”), and her subsequent regenerations take on more masculine aspects with each iteration: “The lesbian body, then, (like every body) is discursively constructed, a cultural text, on the surface of which the constantly changing, and contradictory possible meanings of “lesbian” are inscribed and resisted.” (Jagose, Way out 280). 

First, Pearl’s dress is exchanged for a pair of leggings with a tule skirt serving as a layer (“Gem Glow”), the second transformation shows her abandoning the skirt while still suggesting a feminine alignment by incorporating a large bow into her outfit (“Steven The Sword Fighter”). Meanwhile, the colour pink becomes less apparent in her design with time. The show suggests Pearl’s move from the feminine towards the masculine end of the spectrum that is used to embody resistance to Homeworld’s demands of femininity. In other words, Pearl’s female masculinity is constructed in the same way, even conceived through the same discursive means, as the hegemonic identity she inhabited before (cp. Jagose, Way out 278). Pearl’s identity becomes queered as her body proves to be signifier of gender fluidity that always changes within contexts (cp. Butler, Gender Trouble 188). This can be seen as a typical articulation of queer resistance, as it not only exposes the artificiality of gendered categories but also refuses to replicate them (cp. Butler, Gender Trouble 201). Steven Universe implies a connection between queer desires and the ways they are reflected on the body. Halberstam himself states that this mixture can be particularly dangerous to heteronormative society: “[…] when and where female masculinity conjoins with possibly queer identities, it is far less likely to meet with approval. Because female masculinity seems to be at its most threatening when coupled with lesbian desire.” (Halberstam, Female Masculinity 28). 

The programme outright states that the moment of awakening for Pearl is directly incited by her love for Rose to whom she was gifted as a servant: “I was supposed to make her happy. I just never could” (“Now We’re Only Falling Apart” 03:06—03:10). Seeing how Rose is uncomfortable with the restrictions on Homeworld, Pearl incites the first sparks of rebellion in an effort to make her happy. She suggests tricking the authorities and spending a day on earth when it was explicitly forbidden for Rose to do so (“Now We’re Only Falling Apart”). This slight misdemeanour quickly spirals out of control, as both Pearl and Rose grow endeared by Earth and develop a desire to live there freely. The liberational implications of their actions are hard to miss. They harken back to the building of queer utopia which proves how queerness itself “is a longing that propels us onward, beyond romances of the negative and toiling of the present. Queerness is that thing that lets us feel that this world is not enough, that indeed something is missing.” (Muñoz 1). 

However, Pearl’s freedom from authorities may be paradoxically stifled because of her connections to Rose. The programme grapples with the fact that Pearl’s wish to follow Rose may be interpreted as her remaining subservient to her former master instead of breaking free. To counter that, it can be said that Pearl’s love for Rose is completely inappropriate to Homeworld society. When Pearl attempts to fuse with Rose, she exclaims: “This is very not allowed.” (“Now We’re Only Falling Apart” 09:58—10:01). This means that their lesbian relationship is a societal taboo that gives room to further transgression and ultimately, rebellion. How exactly queer love and the war against oppression are cause and effect of one another within the show will be examined at a later point. For now, it is important to note that Pearl’s inability to let Rose go is presented as a failure to completely liberate herself. While the relationship is still queer, it is not equal and remains tenuously connected to the hierarchy out of which it was born. Various scenes suggest that even after Rose’s death, Pearl is unable to let go of their relationship: “Everything I ever did, I did for her. Now she’s gone. But I’m still here.” (“Rose’s Scabbard” 09:30—09:35). It is when Pearl accepts Rose’s death and experiences attraction to a human woman that her arch is completed. The episode “Last One Out Of Beach City” shows Pearl trying to flirt with a mysterious girl and breaking various rules in the process: “I am done thinking about the past. Tonight, I am all about the future.” (“Last One Out Of Beach City” 04:50—05:00). The symbol for overcoming the boundaries of her past and freeing herself from the last constraints of Homeworld’s oppression are encapsulated in her wearing a jacket. As a Gem’s attire is normally an inseparable part of her body, wearing clothes overstep Gem conventions and signify human territory. Here, she crosses lines between cultures to fulfil a romantic desire. Even her interest in the girl itself is significantly queered as an example of interspecies romance. 

The importance of this experience can be observed with Pearl’s last regeneration. Her new form reflects the change towards a more queer, liberated identity onto her body. The colour pink is entirely absent from her design, signifying her removal from symbolic femininity as well as her freedom from Rose. The ways the design incorporates pants and a jacket recall the events of “Last One Out Of Beach City” while suggesting a close alignment to the classical butch identity (“Change Your Mind”). (Fig. 1. Pearl in her jacket. “Last One Out Of Beach City.” 02:52) Amethyst shrugs off masculinist notions about strength and overcomes her desire to fit into hegemonic society by questioning the nature of normativity itself. Pearl, on the other hand, escapes demands of femininity and her fate as a servant with the transformative power of queer desire. Consequently, Steven Universe uses the alien biological components of shapeshifting and the fantastical element of alternative societies to subvert expectations of hegemonic gender and reveal the artificiality of identity as a construct. While doing so, the programme also refers to Butler’s theories in ways that renegotiate queer subjectivities along the lines of political change: “The critical task is, rather, to locate strategies of subversive repetition enabled by those constructions, to affirm the local possibilities of intervention […]” (Butler, Gender Trouble 200). Both Amethyst and Pearl gain the strength to overcome the hegemonic oppression put upon them by their home planet through means of performativity. The queer reality of Pearl’s and Amethyst’s victories negate hegemonic assumptions about identity in ways that threaten oppressive forces. Queering one’s own identity is deeply connected to envisioning a future where categories break down. By engaging in performative practices, one is already in the process of building this exact world: “Performativity and Utopia both call into question what is epistemologically there and signal a highly ephemeral ontological field that can be characterized as a doing in futurity.” (Muñoz 26).

Works Cited:

 Beauvoir, Simone de. The Second Sex. New York: Vintage Books 1989, c1952. Print. 

Butler, Judith. Undoing Gender. New York: Routledge, 2004.

 --. Gender Trouble: Feminism and the Subversion of Identity. 1990. 

Dhaenens, Frederik: “Articulations of queer resistance on the small screen”, Continuum 28.4, 2014. Pp. 520-531. 

-- “The Fantastic Queer: Reading Gay Representations in Torchwood and True Blood as Articulations of Queer Resistance”, Critical Studies in Media Communication, 30.2, 2013. Pp. 102-116. 

Dunn, Eli: “Steven Universe, Fusion Magic, and the Queer Cartoon Carnivalesque.” Gender Forum: An Internet Journal of Gender Studies 56, 2016. Pp. 44–57. 

Edelman, Lee. No Future: Queer Theory and the Death Drive. 2004. 

Halberstam, Jack. Female Masculinity. Durham: Duke University Press, 1998.

 Hall, Donald E. Queer Theories. Hampshire: Palgrave Macmillan, 2003. 

Hollinger, Veronica.: “(Re)Reading Queerly: Science Fiction, Feminism, and the Defamiliarization of Gender.” Science Fiction Studies 26.1, 1999. Pp. 23–40. 

Jagose, Annamarie. Queer Theory: An Introduction. New York: New York University Press, 1996. Print. 

--: “Way Out: The Category ‘Lesbian’ and the Fantasy of the Utopic Space.” Journal of the History of Sexuality, 4.2, 1993. Pp. 264–287.

 --: “The Trouble with Antinormativity” Differences 1 26.1, 2015. Pp. 26–47. 

Jameson, Fredric. Archaeologies of the Future: The Desire Called Utopia and Other Science Fictions. London: Verso, 2005. 

Melzer, Patricia. Alien Constructions: Science Fiction and Feminist Thought. University of Texas Press, 2006.

 Merrick, Helen: “Gender in Science Fiction.” The Cambridge Companion to Science Fiction, edited by Edward James and Farah Mendlesohn, Cambridge University Press, 2003, pp. 241–252. 

Moore, Mandy Elizabeth: "Future Visions: Queer Utopia in Steven Universe," Research on Diversity in Youth Literature 2.1, 2019. Pp. 1-17. 

Muñoz, José E. Cruising Utopia: The Then and There of Queer Futurity, 2009. 

Pawlak, Wendy Sue: “The Spaces between: Non-Binary Representations of Gender in Twentieth-Century American Film.” Dissertation Abstracts International, 73.11, U of ArizonaProQuest, 2013. 

Pearson, Wendy Gay: “Alien Cryptographies: The View from Queer.” Science Fiction Studies 26.1, 1999. Pp. 1-22. 

--: “Science Fiction and Queer Theory” Published as a book chapter in: The Cambridge Companion to Science Fiction. Edward James and Farah Mendlesohn. (Eds.), 2003. Pp. 149-160. 

Roqueta Fernandez, Marta: “Posthumanism and the creation of racialised, queer identities and sexualities: An analysis of ‘Steven Universe’” Monográfico: Nuevas Amazonas, 2.7, 2019. Pp. 48-84. 78 Shelley, 

Valentin, Al: “Using the Animator’s Tools to Dismantle the Master’s House? Gender, Race, Sexuality and Disability in Cartoon Network’s Adventure Time and Steven Universe.” Buffy to Batgirl: Essays on Female Power, Evolving Femininity and Gender Roles in Science Fiction and Fantasy, edited by Julie M. Still et al., McFarland & Company Publishing, 2019, pp. 175–215. 

Vasques Vital, André: “Water, gender, and modern science in the Steven Universe animation”, Feminist Media Studies, 2019. Ward, Pendleton, creator. Adventure Time. Cartoon Network Studios, 2010. 

Wälivaara, Josefine. Dreams of a Subversive Future: Sexuality, (Hetero)normativity, and Queer Potential in Science Fiction Film and Television. Umeå, 2016

[wallstoothin]

Revolution (P5/PJO)

A warm up fic that I'm too nervous to put on A03. Unedited.

At age sixteen, Akira never expected to be part of a war. But then again, life as a demigod is anything but normal to begin with. He’s not even...he’s not even anything in the eyes of the gods but for some reason he was the child of the prophecy, whatever that meant. Akira always considered it a death sentence in waiting. Aren’t prophecies once in a lifetime opportunities?

Since the age of eleven, Akira has been forced to go on all sorts of different quests ranging from petty things such as being an over glorified uber eats for a god or something like preventing a war between two different monsters. Now it was a war.

A war that could be easily prevented if the gods or even some of the camp managers and leaders just opened their eyes and look. Akira would know. He was the son of a minor goddess after all, a mother who never bothered to claim him and a camp that force him into a cramped cabin of a god who is “so kind and merciful to let someone like him inside.”

Children of minor gods are usually one that can live in the outside world without major trouble. Apparently their scent is thinner and are less appealing than children of major goddesses such as his bunkmate Ryuji, child of Hermes and sweet Ann from Aprohidites. They are his best friend and he does not envy them at all. Both Ryuji and Ann has been through s much trouble because of their parent lineage. Left alone to single parents and their own human trouble combined with their demigods' trouble. He would do anything for them. Still, it would be nice to have someone to call as family. The only reason Akira even found out about his parentage is because of Goro.

Goro.

Goro had high expectation placed under him. As the son of Zeus it was expected. But he was never chosen to be in any important quest and spend most of his time training or in his cabin. Goro was one of the first people Akira met when he first came to camp. According to gossip, Goro has been in camp since the age of seven after his mother killed himself, overpressed by the idea of raising a child of god and especially after how lord Zeus practically left the two on their own. Goro was a loner on the outside and very bitter on the inside. When Akira got his first quest a month later, Goro practically ignored him. It was heartbreaking for the eleven year old for his new friend or at least someone he consider his friend to suddenly hate him.

He really wanted to go to the outside world with him but instead went with Ryuji and Ann. When he came back, bruised and bloodied, filled with new fears and deep hatred for salt water. He hoped his time away would have let his friend cool down enough for them to talk again but as soon as Akira laid eyes on the other the boy ran straight for his cabin. It wasn’t long until Akira got his first fetch quest. This time with Yusuke, son of Apollo and Futaba the quirky daughter of Hephaestus. It was a strange team, filled with dumb fights and hiding in the bathroom but it was successful.

Goro still won’t talk to him. Instead he ended up with two Ares girls on his twelfth birthday.

It was after this quest when he was finally given a small break. At this point he was desperate. He was tired,scared and most of all he wanted his friend back. So once he was left alone after dinner, he dragged Goro by the arm from the archery ring and into the Zeus cabin.

“We need to talk.”

They talked and talked and talked way past curfew, maybe they could have reconnect months ago. If only Akira was given a chance to settle down. But now he did.

It was Goro that figured out who his parent was, Goro always did say that whenever he was around Akira he always felt safe, at home. Other people told him that too. Even Akira felt the sense of family whenever he’s with his friends.

They hit the book soon after and came up with an answer.

Epione, the goddess of soothing pain.

Akira’s power seems to work with mental pain and after going on a quest with Goro and Hifumi, he can soothe small physical pain. Anything bigger than a small knife wound would leave him passed out on the ground. But it was better than any ambrosia or nectar, it was a rewarded feeling and an especially tiring one.

It made the quest after a lot easier.

Everything breaks down around the age of fifteen, it was quiet and sudden. Akira knew of camp deserters, they all did. It is often talked about in late night horror stories. Akira may have made one or two up on his own as well. But there has been an increase in unrest between the minor god and goddess children.

“The gods are using you as their playthings aren’t they?” Ten year old Nozoki told him one day. “How long can you keep winding yourself until you break?”

He still hasn't told anyone of his talk with the gods, yet.

It was after that day that people started leaving the camp in groups.

Yukki

Nozoki

And Goro.

The older boy didn’t even say goodbye.

Was it something Akira has done?

Their last talk was another late night one. This time hanging out on the roof of Goro’s cabin. They were talking about school. Akechi was close to finishing high school and Akira was on his way to his last year. When Akechi asked of his future plans, Akira hesitated. Was there a future for him? Akira never thought he would make it this long, even then, he did not have the time to develop any hobbies or focus on school work compared to his peers. Who cared about school when the world was ending.

Maybe it was his defeated tone, he hated it at first he really did. But now Akira just accepts it as another part of life. Demigods don’t get to live long, everyone knows that, that’s why the camp was created in the first place to provide children a safe place to live and to teach them to survive. Akira who's been in and out of the camp in almost all of his teen years has a higher chance of an early death compared to his friends.

“What if everything change.” Goro talked in a low and deep voice. A tone Akira rarely hear outside of anger and battle. He must be serious. “What if we had a chance to go out into the world without any fear of getting killed or being forced by the gods to do whatever they want.”

“That’s a dangerous thought you have there.” He replied.

“Humor me Akira.”

“Well,” What kind of answers would satisfy Goro. He honestly never really bothered to even spend time daydreaming about this. What are somethings the seasonal campers talk about during dinner time?

“I think I want to go somewhere populated.”

“Somewhere populated, Kurusu-kun?”

He nodded. “Yeah like the scramble or Kyoto, maybe even destinyland.”

“Those are tourist traps Kurusu-kun.” Goro replied wirily.

“So? What I want my wallet to get tricked by the many faces of capitalism. Aren’t they places of memories. I don't mind spending my whole day in these places. It seems like fun.”

“You know, I expected someone like you to want something more dramatic. For someone who always lives in the danger zone.”

He shrugged. “Normal is Ok, I think I would like to be that mysterious man behind the bar.”

Goro actually snorted at that. “Are you even able to stay in one place for that long?”

Ok, so maybe Goro has a point. There no why he can stay in one place for so long. But if he gets to meet new people everyday it sure to be just as fun.

“-beside, I can’t see you handling alcohol.”

“Geez Goro, way to crush my dreams. I was thinking of running some kind of underground coffee bar. “

“An underground coffee bar. That sounds like you. I think I might have isted everyday.”

“Oh? A loyal customer ? Thank you for your patronage, good sir.”

“You’re very welcomed overworked barista.”

They sighed.

“Goro is everything OK?| He finally asked. “What you have been saying lately has me worried. You know the people upstairs can hear everything here right?”

“Of course, please do not worry about me Akira-kun, I’m sure you already have lots on your plate right now.”

“But I always have space in my heart for you. Please ‘kechi, I won’t tell anyone no matter what you tell me. On my life.”

“You really shouldn’t be putting your life on the line so easily.” Goro mumbled, mostly to himself but Akira heard it all anyway.

“It’s all part of the job.” He chirp back.

The next day he was gone.

A traitor everyone called him, someone who abandoned the gods to join the wrong side historically and morally. It did not take long for the rumors to start around camp.

“I’ve always knew he was evil.”

“He was always acting so creepy around Akira I wonder if he was ever planning on killing him.”

“It’s good that he left, who knows what he would’ve done if he stayed. “

It was getting harder and harder to face each day with a smile without Goro. His other friends at least one that has yet to publicly disowned Goro stayed by his side comforting him telling him that everything is alright.

But war, war is coming and Akira is expected to be in the front line as a leader. He can’t. He does not want to do this any more. Oh godly parent please give him a sign.

But nothing came.

Nothing but ruin for Tokyo.

They were

Winning

Losing

Dying

...fighting.

They were fighting for their life, each of his friends split up into different groups to try and take back different parts of the city.

Akira was tasked to find the leader of the resistance and to put an end to it once and for all, a fitting task for the hero.

It did not take long to find him, he was exactly where Akira expected him to be and exactly where Goro wanted him to be at.

“Goro,” He mumbled, approaching his enemy with his dagger clutched in his hand tightly. “I came to stop you.”

Goro turned around to face him. Instead of the camp t-shirt and ripped jeans that Akira normally sees him in. He was instead wearing a leather jacket and a collared shirt underneath his regular jeans. It was a strange combination but Akira can’t help but to think it suits Goro well.

“I’m happy you came.”

“This is our meeting place after all.”

Enough with the banter, Akira can’t afford to stall now, not when everyone is fighting for their lives.

“Goro, surrender now. I can get the gods to put you on probation or something bu-”

“You know that’s not true. Do you really think that will pay attention to a mortal even someone like you, since when have they done anything for you.”

“I-”

“Think Akira.” Goro shouted, holding on to his shoulder for dear life. “You’ve been used over and over again. We were just kids. You don’t even have a childhood doesn’t that upset you?”

It did, it still does but Goro knows that he does not like to think about that.

“I used to be so scared.” Goro’s volume went down all the way to a whisper as if talking about this of all things would finally get him stuck down by lightning. “Everytime you come home your eyes would grow darker and darker. I used to have nightmares that the darkness would eat you alive. The trauma you endured. As a son of one of the big three it should have been me.”

Akira shook his head vigorously, he could even feel some of the hair strand stabbing his eyes. It burns a bit, but that’s not important.

“No Goro! I would never wish this life on anyone. The quest, the glory. It’s not worth it! I wanted you to be safe and happy but you ignored me.”

“I know.” Goro’s hand slowly trailed down until they came right above his waist putting the two in some sort of half hug position. “I’m sorry Akira.”

Akira swallowed back a sob threatening to come out. His dagger was right there and Goro was so close and vulnerable. He could end this, he can stop this war once and for all.

“Goro please, end this war. That way everything will go back to normal.”

“You know that’s not what’s going to happen. The gods will use you again and again until you one day burn out and they choose the next unlucky kid to be the hero.” Goro paused. “Akira...why don’t you join me.”

“Hu-”

“Lots of our men need healing. With your powers you can save them! Your mother may not recognize you but we do. We can stop this cycle and give everyone a better future. We would no longer live in fear or worried over someone’s temper tantrum. Akira, I know I haven’t been a good friend to you but I can make it all up now so please.”

Goro reached out his hand and dropped his weapon.

“Join me.”

Akira dropped his dagger as well.

He knows this isn’t the right choice, if they were to fail both Akira and Goro would face harsh unimaginable punishment. But Goro along with everything he ever wanted was right there.

Akira reached out his own hands and-

[bigskydreaming]

Something I don’t think I’ve ever seen explored but that could be a possibly interesting subversion of the common conception that Dick is Bruce’s favorite, even according to his other children:

What if the things they viewed as favoritism were really just overcompensation? For instance, when Dick and Bruce started being presences in each other’s lives again after Tim became Robin, it was a gradual thing, they only slowly kind of got used to being around each other again over time. As I’ve often said in the past, my big gripe about this, and why I so intensely dislike all of that being framed as Tim being a catalyst for reuniting them, is its precisely BECAUSE of how it all played out that way, that Bruce....never actually needed to apologize or make amends to Dick or even ASK for him to come back....which compounded the fact that he’d never really ever gotten around to doing all of that because of the conflict between them for other reasons before Jason’s death happened.

And I do think a lot of that has to do with Bruce’s tendencies towards self-flagellation, though this doesn’t excuse it. I honestly do believe that it’d be perfectly in character if the reason Bruce never apologized for all that even then was because he didn’t think what he’d done WAS forgivable, so it felt....false to him, to try and ask for forgiveness. What this fails to consider though, is that apologizing, making amends, TRYING to make up for what you did to the other person.....its not about WHETHER or not they forgive you, or think they can.

Its simply about acknowledging wrong and harm done, and saying....you’re sorry. You regret it. You know it was a mistake and that you can’t take it back, but you just want them to know you’re....not unaware of the harm you caused.

After that, yeah, the ball is in their court, but if you never actually put that out there, how are they ever supposed to truly KNOW that you know that? Believe that?

How can people ever be asked or expected to grant forgiveness when its so commonly depicted as though for the people who hurt them, even just ASKING for it is harder than it must be for the people who WERE hurt to GRANT it?

But Bruce is very much someone who believes that actions speak louder than words, so I could see someone taking the angle that he tries to EXPRESS his regret to Dick in other ways, through various actions and behaviors with or around him.....which could be construed to others in the family as displays of favoritism....

Because they’d have no way or any reason to think of them as attempts at amends or expressions of regret, like they would, say, if any of those similar behaviors were exhibited around Jason - whether they were accepted by Jason or brushed off. Point being, they would GET that this was what it was with Jason, because they’re all aware Jason is angry at Bruce for very specific things, with most of them being aware what MOST of those things are (definitely not counting the ending of UTRH). 

(And just pointing out here again for emphasis since its not like I tack it on as a qualifier in all my posts, but I honestly hate how frequently various parts of fandom decide one character or another is Bruce’s favorite or worse, that this is OKAY, like its not a fundamental problem if he definitively has a favorite. Of course that creates divides in a family. To me, ideally, a healthy Batfam has no favorites, they just have members of the family who are more favorite to them in SOME ways than in others. 

For instance, I also dislike the idea that Damian is Dick’s favorite, but I don’t think the closeness of their relationship is threatened or mitigated by acknowledging that the bonds between Dick and his other siblings are just as strong, just in different ways. That its ‘special’ with Damian in a way it isn’t with the others because of how close they got that year Dick practically raised him, that makes the nature of their relationship different. But its equally ‘special’ with Jason, because Jason was Dick’s FIRST brother, they were each other’s first family beyond just parental figures, there’s a significance to that which doesn’t just go away, and still neither of those undervalues the fact that Tim and Dick spent years being close as the only two brothers, who had only each other and Bruce, and Bruce sometimes being emotionally or even physically unavailable to turn to making it that much more necessary for them to turn to each other, essentially, between Jason’s death and return and even after Cass became a presence in their lives, due to her usually going to Babs for the kinds of things Dick and Tim would work through together, and then of course Cass is Dick’s only sister which puts her in another category altogether, not better or worse, its simply that Cass is neither Dick’s brother nor was she ever a Robin so they have a relationship that for example, whatever else it consists of, will never be defined or threatened by any of the issues that have plagued the family when it comes to the Robin succession. And Duke and Dick’s dynamic of course is still basically just whatever the hell you individually decide it to be because hahahaha what if you wrote them interacting for more than like, one issue only, DC HMMM?

Point being - FUCK family favorites. The whole idea is stupid and toxic and IMO fundamentally incompatible with an actual healthy, functional Batfamily, so it kinda blows my mind when I see people UPHOLDING the idea of this character being so and so’s favorite or everyone knows Dick is Bruce’s favorite and Jason is Alfred’s favorite and Damian is Dick’s favorite....no. Why. Stop that. They can all be special to each other in entirely different ways for entirely different reasons. Family is not a zero sum game. And none of this means that there aren’t some of them who just GET ALONG better than they do with the others at sometimes, or like these two just tend to have more fun with each other, or this is who this one usually goes to when this happens, etc. There’s nothing wrong with that, that’s good, it just means.....things are different between different members of the family. That doesn’t have to equal FAVORITES though. Favorite to share this particular activity with? Sure. OVERALL though? Miss me).

ANYWAY.

Detour aside and circling back to my point.....say for instance the other kids see Bruce appear to be making an effort with Jason, singling him out for praise or acknowledgment....its not hard for them to imagine reasons WHY Bruce might be doing that, which don’t automatically equate to an insecure conviction that Bruce just loves Jason more than them and he’s his favorite....because there are other explanations, other reasons why Bruce might feel a need to act differently with Jason than he does with the rest of them, things unique to their dynamic. Similarly, say for instance Bruce is written making a particular effort with Damian to acknowledge him - there’s lots more angles to spin it as than just favoritism, they had a very rocky start everyone in the family is aware of, so its more likely to just read as like....Bruce making more of an effort where its already understandable to everyone else that an effort is merited. 

And Bruce HAS admittedly at different times been written as very clearly making an effort and being a good father to his kids, like, the capacity has always been there of course. But there were ‘good times’ with Bruce and Jason, with Bruce and Dick, with Bruce and Tim, etc, etc. So when the effort being seen comes paired with an understandable or apparent GAP the others are aware of.....the effort is easily seen as nothing more than BRIDGING the already existant gap, rather than....advancing that one particular child AHEAD of the others.

So much of the conflict between Bruce and Dick during Jason’s time as Robin stemmed from the fact that.....there was a huge, existing gap between Bruce and Dick even BEFORE Bruce took Jason in....and there was no effort made by Bruce during that time to bridge that gap. And then Bruce took Jason in, adopted him, made him Robin....STILL while making no attempt to reach out to Dick, make amends, bridge the gap he was steadily INCREASING between both boys and their respective relationships with him....so y’know, its kinda hard NOT to see or at least understandably imagine favoritism from Dick’s POV there....

BUT, its also easy to imagine why from the other kids’ perspectives, Dick might be Bruce’s favorite or the one he’s closest with, and its not because he’s perfect or the original or anything like that, but rather just....time.

Quite simply, Dick is the one kid Bruce spent the most time with, before any of the others joined the family. He spent a good eight years growing up in the manor, Bruce’s only family other than Alfred. Its quite easy and understandable to imagine from the perspective of the ones who came later, this would translate into more closeness, more ease and familiarity, even more respect, more love......because that thing that they each have with Bruce to some degree, that makes them family, the time spent with him, the comfort or praise they’ve received from him, purely in an empirical sense, in terms of rough numbers if nothing else, Dick has had more of it. Bruce has given more of it. 

Of course they’re resentful or assume they can’t measure up, in light of that. How can the mere two or three years some of them have had as Bruce’s family compete with the eight Dick had and that’s even just before any of the others came along at all.

So they look at Bruce making an effort with Dick, the way he doesn’t always do with them, they see Bruce making a point to acknowledge Dick or praise him or express he’s putting his faith in him - all the things they’re all eager to hear - and the easiest and most obvious conclusion to draw when asking themselves “why is he like that with Dick, but not with me, or at least never as much”....is that its because of that essential element Dick and Bruce’s relationship has that none of the others do.....time.

The problem is, of course.....they don’t have the whole perspective, and they’re drawing conclusions without paying proper consideration to all the possible alternatives.

Because yes, Bruce and Dick’s relationship has had more time to encompass so many of the good moments and the positives between them......but the reverse is equally true. Its had that much more time to encompass the bad moments and the negatives in their relationship as well. And this is part of the narrative trap created when not focusing on or even just acknowledging the downs of Dick and Bruce’s relationship, specifically where the burden of responsibility is on Bruce.....because it sets up a quandary - “Bruce often behaves differently with Dick than he does with his other children” - but only allows certain interpretations to be read in as possible explanations for this. 

So the second you lock in the take that Bruce’s relationship with Dick has never really HAD any low moments because Dick wasn’t fired, they weren’t estranged for years (though cough cough, what’s your explanation for Bruce’s absence from major defining stories of Dick’s at the time where he really could have used some comfort or support from Bruce, like the Church of Blood or Titans Hunt BUT I DIGRESS), and NTT #55 certainly didn’t happen, then its like.....you’ve reduced the intricacies of their dynamic and past history down to only its fundamental positives, and as such are only really showcasing Bruce being more positive than not with Dick while layering in the impression that this is the way its always been.....

And not only are you giving cause to the other children looking at this dynamic and seeing only one possible explanation - whether or not its just because they’ve spent more time together, Dick is Bruce’s favorite and always will be - you’re also creating the inevitability that Dick pretty much MUST be written as equally positive towards Bruce at all times - aka appearing as the loyal footsoldier his siblings often accuse him of being, particularly when they’re having their own conflicts with Bruce and Dick is defending him - OR if you write Dick as behaving negatively towards Bruce or making complaints of his own against Bruce....who in the eyes of all the others, clearly already favors Dick more than them as is.....it makes Dick look like a spoiled, ungrateful asshole who can’t even appreciate the fact that Bruce already loves and respects him more than he does any of them, like nothing will ever be good enough for him.

Basically, as is a fairly common theme for me, lol, my point is that I think a lot of the more negative and two-dimensional portrayals of Dick in fandom come not even from writers innately or initially seeing HIM that way....but rather are just a symptom of the corners many often write themselves into simply by REFUSING to write other characters in certain negative ways....without paying consideration to the ripple effects this would have on the dynamic between both characters overall. And then more readers and fans internalize these negative and two-dimensional portrayals of Dick and add them or have them feed into their own predispositions towards any of the other characters aside from him, and it kinda creates and perpetuates this whole self-sustaining cycle, where Dick so often becomes the ‘bad guy’ in family conflicts purely because writers won’t LET anyone ELSE ever be even just more responsible for a conflict with him.

But the second you put back even just ONE of the elements often cut out from Bruce and Dick’s relationship in support of Bruce, whether its firing Dick, not trying to make amends with him the whole time Jason lived with Bruce, the scene between them after Jason’s death......

Suddenly, you’ve got another explanation for why Bruce might be making MORE of an effort with Dick at times, to show he appreciates him, loves him, is proud of him.....because Bruce fucked up, and he doesn’t know how to fix it. And this is his awkward way of trying to show and not tell, because he doesn’t think the telling is ever going to be good enough, and its not even that Dick’s too petty or spiteful to ever accept Bruce’s apology, its that because its never taken the form of an ACTUAL apology, an ACTUAL acknowledgment of wrongdoing and an attempt to make amends.....its more likely Dick not seeing it for what it is on Bruce’s part is just Dick not wanting to set himself up for more disappointment, figuring he might be reading more into it than is actually there just because he WANTS to believe its an apology of some sort, he WANTS to forgive Bruce and get back at least some of what they lost over the years.

And meanwhile, from all the other kids’ perspectives, they see Bruce clearly making SOME kind of an effort with Dick that he doesn’t always make with them, and that when he does, usually its paired with something in their mind that makes it read as “oh that’s why he’s behaving this way” rather than “oh, clearly, this is proof I am The Favored One,”...BUT having access to only parts of the picture and no clue about a lot of the rest, working off of limited evidence, there’s no real way for them TO draw the correct conclusion....that this is Bruce trying to make RIGHT something that went WRONG.....not Bruce just lavishing Dick with praise and respect and recognition any of them would kill for and he seems to get for no reason....other than the obvious one....Dick’s the first, the original, the one who has a decade headstart on all of us in Bruce’s eyes and who we thus will never be able to catch up to so why try, hey, we should totally just, stab Caesar.

[eryiss]

Ship: Freed x Laxus

Rating: Teen

Prompt: Soulmates

Summary: THE S0U1MATE SYSTEM. A week-long experience guaranteed to find you your soulmate. Laxus had dismissed it as nothing but crap, and brought himself a ticket to prove it. It would have gone well, if it weren’t for the handsome guy running the program who kept catching his eye.

Notes: This was written as part of Fraxus Week 2021, as always hosted by @fuckyeahfraxus. Check out their blog to see all the other content.

Links: Event Masterlist ||| Archive of Our Own, Fanfiction

THE S0U1MATE SYSTEM

Year: 2055

Location: Tokyo, Japan

"Laxus Dreyar," A robotically cheerful voice echoed through the room. "Please step into the preparation area."

Rising quickly, Laxus strode through the reception room and towards the door that had lit up. The animated emoticon projected onto the wall followed him as he walked, and the glass door shimmered out of existence as he approached. Once through the archway, the glass flickered back into place, and the emoticon went back to its unanimated state. So far, Laxus had yet to be impressed by THE S0U1MATE SYSTEM.

It claimed to be an experience that will end up matching an attendee with their soulmate. You paid your fee, gave up a week of your life, trusted in the system that it would work, and supposedly you'd end up meeting the love of your life. Laxus was only there to disprove it.

Well, also because Ever had paid for it, and he knew how much it costed. But mainly he went to disprove it.

So far, he'd undergone a full body scan, had his social media accounts interrogated, and submitted a completed questionnaire that covered everything from best first date ideas to how he dealt with the inevitability of death. This was apparently so the algorithm could create a profile for him, and was not reflective of how the program would be. According to the guidebook Laxus had absently flicked through, the morning of the first day was slightly tedious, so to better match him with potential lovers. It all seemed stupid – as far as Laxus was concerned, romance was born out of coincidence and chemistry, not a list of things you liked and didn't like – but he was willing to undergo it all just to prove how it was a waste of money.

Each day, he would go on an 'Experience' with a match. It was a simulation of a first date, purpose built to the two people's shared interests. Some people went on candle lit dinners, some people went into an escape room, some people were stranded in the middle of the ocean with only each other for company. Every experience was tailored to the participants.

At least it would be interesting.

Laxus walked down the corridor, following the neon arrows that pointed him to another shimmering glass door. The pretentious modernism of the building was obvious, and it showed off every ridiculous advancement in technology in the most frivolous ways. It couldn't be a more obvious money-making scheme if it tried.

As he walked through the door, he saw a man standing at a podium. His date, perhaps.

Well, if that was the case, they at least knew his type.

Tall, long legs with some obvious lean bulk to them. Well dressed, in clothing that clearly was trying to highlight his physique but not in an obvious way. His face, looking down at the tablet attached to the podium, was sharp and angular, with high cheek bones and a slightly jutting chin. A mole rested below one of his vibrant eyes, and a long main of flowing green hair hung down to his waist. He was hot and Laxus grinned; at least he would spend a bit of time with a sexy guy.

As Laxus approached, the man looked up with a polite smile. He didn't make a move towards him, as Laxus expected, and continued to tap on the tablet before him. The lights gained a bright blue and the small room illuminated itself.

"You must be mister Dreyar," The man said in lieu of a greeting.

"Yeah, nice to meet ya," Laxus nodded, stepping forward and offering the man a hand to shake. He took it; he had a good grip on him. "Guess you're my date for the evening."

"Ah, I'm afraid not," The man denied, and Laxus frowned a little. "I work here, I'll be overseeing your simulations throughout the week as part of a quality control test. You'll meet the man who you've been set up with in the simulation itself."

"Thought the system was supposed to be automated?" Laxus asked, retracting his hand, and taking a step back.

"It is. A few times a year someone is called to watch over, to make sure it's as streamlined as possible," The man looked back down to his tablet again and began typing, and a small bubbling of curiosity grew in Laxus. Nothing he'd act on, but the face of concentration on the man was an attractive one. "I'm surprised you weren't informed beforehand; I must admit. It's in the contract you signed that this could happen, but the company does like to warn people before things begin."

"It ain't a big deal," Laxus shrugged, looking around the small room. "I ain't really sure how this part of the process works, so maybe you could help. I didn't catch yer name, either."

"Freed Justine," The man introduced himself, smirking ever so slightly. "In a moment you'll walk through those doors," he motioned to the aforementioned doors, "and the simulation will begin. Your date will walk through another set of doors, and you'll meet then. We like to have dates meet for the first time mid-way through a simulation, as it feels more natural than meeting beforehand. Once you've spoken for a while, the activity of the simulation can begin."

"How do I know what the 'activity' is?"

"It's normally fairly obvious. If you were, for example, white water rafting, you'd be placed on a dock with a boat already attached to the rapids," Freed explained, looking up from the tablet again. "I'm sure you'll figure it out."

Laxus would have rather known what he was getting into before it happened, he felt like it would give him an advantage. He couldn't dwell on that, though, as the floor below him lit up. Pulses of light seemed to guide him to a corner of the room, where an odd glass cylinder stood. Clearly they were informing him that he was to get inside the cylinder and, after a nod from Freed, he did as he was instructed.

The cylinder closed as he stepped in, and a flicker of nervousness dwelled inside of him as the glass seemed to seal itself shut. He glanced towards Freed, who gave him a short smile, before a flash of light erupted from above. It only lasted a moment, and Laxus took a second to understand what had happened.

His clothing had changed. Where once he wore an outfit he saw as worthy for a date, he now wore a tee-shirt, shorts, and sneakers.

"The hell?" He murmured under his breath.

"That's the outfit that best fits what kind of date you'll be having," Freed explained as the glass unsealed and Laxus could step out. "Partly it's to better round out the simulation, but I think it's mainly so we don't get sued for property damage should your actual clothes get stained or damaged."

"How romantic," Laxus murmured, before looking down at himself. "Am I having a date in a gym or something?"

"Yes, actually. One of your shared interests is combat sports, so you'll be placed in a boxing arena," Freed said after looking towards the tablet. He thought for a moment, then frowned. "I probably shouldn't have told you that."

"Glad you did, I like being prepared," Laxus shrugged. "Boxing's hardly romantic, though."

"For the right person, it is," Freed retorted. The lights around the simulation door lit up green, and Freed smiled. "Speaking of the right person, the simulation is ready, so when you're ready please step through. I hope you enjoy your date."

"I'll certainly try," Laxus nodded. "And if I don't, I get to punch the guy."

Freed laughed, and Laxus approached the door and refocused his attention on his goal on disproving the systems worth. He knew that the guy in the simulation wouldn't be his soulmate. If the company was worth it's price, then they would have understood that Freed was a better match for him than some random guy who happened to like to box. Still, once this was over and he'd disproven their complete success claim, he might get Freed's number. It wouldn't be a waste of time.

---

"So he wasn't the love of your life, then?"

That was what greeted Laxus as he walked into the preparation area outside of the simulation. It had been a day since his first date, and Freed stood before his tablet again as if he'd been waiting for Laxus to approach. He probably had.

"Wouldn't be here if he was," Laxus shrugged. "You saw how it went. Hardly compatible."

"I suppose not."

The date itself wasn't awful, in fact it was pretty fun. As Freed had stated, he'd been taken into a simulation of an old-fashioned boxing gymnasium, where he'd met the guy. He wasn't bad looking, and in pretty damn good shape, but they hadn't been destined for a relationship and they both knew it. Though Laxus couldn't say it was time wasted, as they'd exchanged information and said they'd workout together at some point. Laxus had always found it hard to find a spotter who could match his weight, and the guy could certainly do that and more.

"The first dates don't typically be where people settle," Freed continued, tapping at his tablet, perhaps setting up the next simulation. "The first half of the week has a low success rate, honestly. I believe it's mainly collecting information to better inform the matches later in the week, so don't be disheartened."

"I wasn't," Laxus shrugged. "If I'm honest, I don't believe this is real."

"I thought as much," Freed chuckled. "Though you probably shouldn't have told a member of staff that. It might taint my view of you."

"What are you gonna do. Throw me into a simulated volcano?"

"I could," Freed grinned, and it was a pretty nice look on the man. "But the real danger is that you say it to a member of staff who's gone through the program and who met their partner through it. They can get somewhat defensive, and they'll do whatever they can to make you believe it will work, and they'll be rather annoying while doing so. It's something I know from experience."

"You ain't been through it?"

"No, I'm hardly in a rush to find someone," Freed shrugged a little. "I believe that these things will happen when they're meant to, so why force them? And yes, before you point it out, it's hypocritical of me to say that while working here."

"Never been tempted?" Laxus asked.

"Of course. I know you don't believe it but I've yet to see someone leave the program without meeting someone they eventually fell in love with."

Freed didn't seem like the kind of guy to say bullshit like that for no reason, and the honesty in his tone didn't feel as though he was parroting a line from a corporate memo, so maybe he did believe it. Admittedly Laxus hardly knew Freed, so he couldn't make too many judgments about his person, but the fact he seemed to believe that this could find him true love was a little intimidating. A pragmatist like Freed – that's what Laxus thought him to be, anyway – wouldn't say that if he didn't believe it.

A horrible thought suddenly hit Laxus. He might actually find someone who he might fall in love with. That was… worrying.

"You won't need to change clothes today, your date won't require it," Freed said, looking up from his tablet again.

"Good to know," Laxus nodded, trying to ignore the nervousness that was filling him. "You gonna tell me what I'm doing?"

"No," Freed shook his head. "For all we know, if I didn't tell you yesterday, the date might have been entirely different."

"Nah, I don't think so," Laxus chuckled, walking towards the podium Freed was standing behind and leaning on it. He grinned at the man, who looked up at him for a moment before averting his eyes. "Tell me, I'll complain about you to yer manager if you don't."

"What a horrible threat," Freed said sardonically, though he did look down at his tablet again. "It's a fairground with a circus performance at the end. And apparently your date is something of a gymnast, and so there's a high chance that he'll get on stage and perform for you."

"Is that gonna be impressive or is it gonna make me wanna claw my eyes out?" Laxus laughed.

"He's a professional athlete, so I suspect the former," Freed grinned a little.

They chatted for a few minutes more, and eventually the lights around the door lit up again and guided him towards his second date. Laxus pushed off from the podium he was still leaning on, ignoring the teasing comment that he should adjust his posture if he wanted to impress his future husband, and walked through the door and into the simulation of an outdoor fairground. As he crossed the threshold, he didn't notice how his nerves had disappeared completely.

---

"I'm startin' to think your program ain't as good as you're saying it is."

Laxus spoke as he walked into the preparation area, and Freed looked up with a small grin on his face as he approached. Laxus had the slightest falter in his step as he saw that Freed had his hair tied up in a high ponytail, rather than using the low band he'd had on the two previous days. Seriously, the simulation had matched him with two random men and not the beauty before him and yet still claimed to be the best matchmaking system in history. Ha.

His second date hadn't been bad, exactly. The guy was hot in his own way – and someone with a scene/punk interest would have been all over him – and he was entertaining the entire time. But he was a little too much for Laxus. Constantly wiggling eyebrows and euphemisms. Good for the right guy, but not for Laxus.

"We're still collecting data, every date is an improvement on the last," Freed waved off the complaint. "For example, you seemed to enjoy the games you were playing, so a bit of friendly competition is something you'll like in a relationship," Laxus had to admit, someone who could challenge him was a turn on, so the system had gotten that right about him. "That's certainly been taken into account for this date."

The way he'd said the last sentence, with a hint of amusement and restrained laughter, made Laxus nervous. He didn't push the topic, partially out of fear.

"We'll see how confident you are when the week's over and I've turned everyone down," Laxus shrugged.

"You're determined for this to fail for you, aren't you?" Freed asked with amusement, and Laxus didn't deny it, instead choosing to shrug. "Is that why you're here, do you see yourself as the man to take the system down and prove how much of a scam it is? Because we've had literally hundreds of people try that and we've yet to have an unsatisfied customer."

"How do I know they've not been silenced?" Laxus joked, grinning as he walked closer to Freed. "Or worse, you killed 'em, blended their bodies up and sold it as a health drink or something?"

"Because we're not in a poorly written young adult novel?" Freed chuckled. "We actually just burn the corpses, it's much less messy."

"Knew it," Laxus laughed. "You gonna tell me what you're gonna put me through today?"

"Absolutely not," Freed grinned. "And I won't move on that today. Because nothing is going to please me more than seeing your reaction to it."

"Why, it's not weird is it?" Laxus frowned, looking concerned now.

"It depends on your definition of weird, I suppose," Freed smirked, and if it weren't such an attractive expression on the man then Laxus might have taken issue with it. "I'll simply say, I expect it's weighted slightly more towards what your date will enjoy rather than what you're going to enjoy."

"Or you could just tell me what's gonna happen," Laxus prompted, and Freed shook his head.

"You'll require an outfit change."

Laxus sighed a little, apparently the topic was to be dropped. He walked to the glass pod in the corner of the room and allowed it to close behind him, and he turned to look at Freed in expectation. Freed pressed something on the tablet and the light flash of light filled the cylinder a moment later, the same chill running over him as his clothing was replaced.

When he saw his reflection, Laxus found himself more confused than anything. He was only wearing swimming trunks and a large life-preserver. He could swim fine, so didn't know what the hell the point of that thing was, and turned to Freed again in confusion.

Freed, who had apparently been looking at him, immediately turned away, and Laxus could see his cheeks redden.

Huh. Had Freed been checking him out.

"You really not gonna let me know why I need to wear this?" Laxus asked, stepping out of the pod, and lifting one side of the life-preserver. Freed looked back to him, pointedly looking only at his face, cheeks still covered with the slightest dusting of a blush. Laxus wanted to focus on that, and maybe flex his abs to see if he got a reaction, but instead spoke again in a jovial tone. "You know if I drown in a simulation, I'm gonna get a lawyer right?"

"I doubt that will happen," Freed said, seemingly forcing himself to shake off the blush. "It's just a precaution."

"You wanna tell me what it's a precaution against?" Laxus probed.

"No," Freed grinned again. The lights above the door lit up, and Freed's grin widened. "And it seems you'll be finding out now."

Laxus wanted to push the topic more and find out what he was going to endure, and he very nearly ignored the flashing green lights and did just that. He almost did, if it weren't for the fact that he also wanted to take off the life preserver and give Freed an unhindered view of his chest to see what happened, so he clearly wasn't in the right mind to be making decisions. He was trying to disprove love could be found in this place, flirting with the guy was hardly helping his argument.

As he had the previous two times, Freed wished him luck as he approached the door. Thie time, though, it was tinged with amusement, and Laxus felt a swell of anticipation as he walked through the door.

The simulation was… interesting. It took Laxus a moment to realise he recognised what he was seeing, and a further moment to remember what it was. When he was a kid, his grandfather had watched old reruns of a gameshow: Wipeout. It was a ridiculous set of obstacle courses, where idiot contestants tried to win money but usually ended up looking like assholes, falling into water after being hit by giant mechanisms covered in foam cladding. It was cheap entertainment where the contestants were there to be laughed at, and apparently Laxus was going to be enduring the damn thing.

He turned around quickly, watching as the doors flickered out of existence, Freed's smirk being the last thing he saw.

---

The moment Laxus walked into the preparation room, he was met with a bursting of laughter. He crossed his arms, watching as Freed tried and failed to retain his laughter. It took longer than it should have, and it was tempting to shake the bastard. He would deserve it if he was laughing at what Laxus thought he was laughing at.

"It ain't that funny."

"Oh it truly was."

Laxus grit his teeth. His third date had been the most interesting, that was for sure, but it had also been ridiculous. He'd been forced to go through three stupidly weird obstacle courses, competing against his date, who was a loud-mouthed idiot with stupidly pink hair.

Multiple times, he'd been pushed from the course and into the unnecessarily cold water. The loud cackling from his date seemed to be shot straight into his ears the moment he broke the surface of the water, and the man's amusement at Laxus failing seemed to double each time it happened. During the last round, when he'd been knocked down a slope of gushing water by a barrel of all things, Laxus had to stop himself from swimming over to the man and clocking him on the nose. He'd probably be kicked from the system, so he talked himself out of it and instead put his focus onto winning the game. He had, and the brat annoyingly wasn't bothered at all.

"He was fucking annoying," Laxus muttered as he walked closer to Freed. He leant against the podium again, closing his eyes in exasperation. "Good luck finding him a guy to match with."

"Actually he's on his fifth day here, and everyone other than you said they wanted to match with him," Freed informed him, looking over the tablet. He was being cagey in letting Laxus see the screen surely the next date wouldn't be as bad as the last. "So you're the outlier in the set. He's remarkably easy compared to you."

"Honestly, kinda offended by that," Laxus muttered.

Freed breathed out a laugh, before placing the tablet back onto the podium. Laxus didn't spare it a glance, and instead looked towards the clothes-changing pod to see if he would need a new outfit. Seemingly knowing that, the pod lit up and directed Laxus to enter. With a small sigh, he did.

Once inside, the flash went off and his clothes were replaced by the appropriate outfit. Thankfully, this time he'd been replaced by an actual normal outfit. A dinner suit, perfectly tailored for his body. It was entirely black and white and, while he definitely looked good in it, it wasn't exactly what he would have chosen for himself. He liked his clothes to have at least a splash of colour, and suits could have that in a tasteful way when done right.

"Before you ask, you'll be having dinner today," Freed informed him as he stepped out of the pod. "Fairly simple, but I think that's more than earned. Most people only have one peculiar simulation, you've had nothing but."

"Lucky me," Laxus murmured. "Wanna tell me about the guy?"

"No," Freed shook his head. "Though I should say, it's at this point in the program where the system starts to understand what you're looking for. So it's entirely possible that he might be the person you end up with."

"I doubt it," He rebuffed, glancing at his reflection in the pod.

"Just go in with an open mind, that's all I ask," Freed said, typing on the tablet again. "The gentleman you've been set up with supposedly has a ninety two percent match with the data on you we currently have. There's a good chance that this might go well if you let it."

"You know I wanna disprove this, right?" Laxus grinned. "I ain't gonna help you."

"Well, lets make a deal," Freed smirked. "If you go into your date with an open mind, I'll promise not to put this on YouTube."

Laxus went to ask what, but the lights lowered, and a projection appeared on one of the blank walls. Watching the video, Laxus felt his blood run cold and his body tense, and a glare was soon aimed at Freed for what he'd done. The grin, which could only be described as shit-eating, he got in return only went to further annoy him.

The video was of Laxus' previous date. All the instances of him falling off the course, and into the water, had been put into a montage, with ridiculously obnoxious circus music blaring behind it. Laxus looked like a damn asshole. When the footage slowed down, showing him getting punched in the face by a foam-covered fist, only to lose grip of the handholds and fall face first into a pool of mud, Laxus openly growled.

"Delete this."

"Absolutely not," Freed smirked. "You heard my terms. Give your date a chance and I'll make it disappear. If not, the whole world gets to see you looking like this."

"Yer an asshole, you know that?" Laxus asked, though he couldn't help fighting a grin.

"I do," Freed nodded, and Laxus barked out a laugh. "And your date is ready for you. Have fun."

Laxus waved a hand towards him, walking towards the door and adjusting his jacket as he did so. He supposed he would give this date a chance, just to avoid the humiliation of that stupid video being leaked onto the internet. If it went well, then he'd meet a guy he might be interested in. if it didn't go well, then he could spend the entirety of the next day planning some kind of revenge on Freed for forcing him to endure such a night. That would be fun.

---

The date had been… interesting. Freed was right, the guy had certainly been the closest to someone Laxus would consider getting into a long-term relationship with, and that had somewhat spooked him after the date had ended. He'd been completely certain that he wouldn't meet anyone even close to what he wanted, and hadn't allowed for any deviation from that mindset. Having that belief challenged was worrying.

The guy was smart, silver tongued, and pretty sexy. He wore a suit to perfection, knew all the right things to say, and was flirtatious by nature. Which was all good, and certainly wasn't a turn off, but it wasn't enough for Laxus. He was all too focused on flirting, and didn't show off the other facets of his personality, which Laxus had wanted.

But if he had done that, what then? What if he had a good sense of humour, or was passionate about random things and would happily speak of them for hours? Laxus liked men like that, and his date had been dangerously close to that.

What if he'd gotten Laxus to match with him? What would happen then?

Those thoughts were plaguing his mind as he walked into the preparation room. He hadn't prepared himself for actually meeting someone, certainly not someone he wanted to get serious with. Laxus didn't get serious with guys, he was more of a love them and leave them kind of guy. It was part of the reason he wanted to disprove this place; not everyone was looking to find a guy to settle down with, and Laxus saw himself as one of those people. But the entire selling point of THE S0U1MATE SYSTEM was that it matched people together in relationships that would last.

Who even was he when he was in a relationship? Would he be one of those people who obsessively cleaned their home to impress their partner? Would he have to constantly be thinking about dates and things to do? Would he have to buy the guy flowers? He didn't know how to do that shit. He didn't think he even wanted to do that shit.

"Laxus," Freed asked, cutting through Laxus' growing panic. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, sorry, fine," Laxus lied. He didn't say anything else.

Freed didn't push conversation, apparently noticing that Laxus wasn't in the mood for their conversations. Laxus walked to the small sofa that he'd previously ignored, sat down, and listened to the gentle tapping of Freed's fingers against the tablet. He closed his eyes and tried to drown out his thoughts.

He wasn't ready for the date this time, because if they were meant to get better each day, then the guy he'd be matched with next might one day become someone important to him. What if he fucked the date up and the guy didn't wanna match with him? What if the guy was perfect for him and he didn't feel anything? Maybe he'd spent years sleeping around, never being with the same guy for longer than a month, and it'd fucked him up somehow.

"If you'd like to enter the pod," Freed prompted, and Laxus looked up to see the clothing pod lit up.

Doing as he was told, he walked into the pod and waited for his clothes to change. After it happened, he felt that his pants had been replaced by something uncomfortably clingy, and he frowned a little. The frown turned to a grimace when he saw his reflection.

"The fuck?" He demanded.

He was dressed in all green, wearing tights and a slightly sparkling tunic. He looked fucking stupid; even more stupid that he had on the damn Wipeout video. He gaped at his own reflection, not entirely sure what to say. The whiplash from emotional turmoil to embarrassed confusion was overwhelming.

"The fuck!" He repeated.

"You'll apparently be performing as Peter Pan for your next date," Freed informed him, and something close to dread built inside of Laxus' stomach. What the fuck? What the fuck! How the fuck had anyone thought that was something he'd enjoy? Who could think he'd wanna be with someone who wanted him to… to perform on stage while looking like an asshole?

"I fucking am not." He snapped.

"The system states that you'll have a very high matching rate with her," Freed replied, before frowning. Laxus also turned to look at him. "You only wanted to be matched with men, didn't you?"

"That's right," Laxus nodded, voice low. It had set him up with a woman?

Freed looked down at his tablet, face scrunching slightly for a moment as he swiped and tapped at the glass, and Laxus tried not to enjoy the sight. He seemed to understand something, flicked on the screen a few more times, and the pod Laxus had left lit up again. Laxus frowned, looking towards it in confusion before turning his gaze back onto Freed.

"There was a blip in the system. Apparently your date and another man's date were mixed up. If you'd like to step into the pod again it'll give you your actual outfit."

Relief flooded through Laxus. There were certain things that he would have outright refused to do, and making an ass out of himself on a stage, dressed like a glorified pixie was certainly one of them. But the contract he had signed said he was obligated to undergo all simulations if he didn't find a match, as not doing so would harm the reputation of the company unfairly. Would Freed had forced him to do it if he hadn't noticed? Laxus hoped not, but he couldn't be sure.

The new outfit was a lot more simple. It was normal clothing, with a large winter coat and, he realised a moment before he tripped, his shoes had been replaced by ice-skates. He knew how to skate, so it wasn't a problem, and compared to what he'd nearly had to undergo, this was perfect.

"Would I have had to do the fucking performance if you didn't notice it?" He asked.

"I'm sure the system would have picked up the mistake before you went in," Freed dismissed, tapping on the tablet, and lighting the door to the simulation room. "You should go now. Don't want to keep him waiting."

Laxus glanced towards Freed, not commenting on how obvious Freed was being in his dismissal. He walked through the door to see an ice rink empty of everything but one man, who was skating towards him. As Laxus skated towards his date, all he could seem to think of was how much better this was than Peter-Fucking-Pan.

His previous nerves about the date were the last thing on his mind.

---

"So here's the thing," Laxus said as he walked into the prep room. "I think you lied to me yesterday."

"Lied about what?" Freed asked.

"This is supposed to be the most successful, most advanced matchmaking system in the whole world, right? It's unmatched and has years of coding and advancements in technology inside of it, right?" He asked, and Freed nodded. "So it kinda seems a little bit bullshit that it wouldn't understand that a guy who's gay would only wanna go on a date with other guys. Feels like that's one of the basic things it should get right?"

"That would be a fair assumption."

"So, if that's right, then it seems unlikely that it'd just happen to me. Seems even weirder that it'd happen conveniently when there's a guy watching over the sessions to pick up the mistake," Laxus walked towards Freed, maintaining eye contact. "All seems coincidental."

"I suppose it does."

"Yeah, it does," Laxus nodded. "So why don't you admit that you're the reason it happened."

"If you already know, what would me admitting to it do?"

Laxus laughed. He didn't know what he had been expecting when he decided to confront Freed with his realisation, which had happened half way through the date with the guy, but he hadn't thought he'd get an honest admission without a moment's guilt.

He wasn't angry about what Freed had done. If he'd gone on the date wearing the costume then he'd certainly be pissed off, but in reality he'd only worn the stupid clothes for a minute or two, and Freed had quickly replaced them with what he was actually meant to wear. In reality it was just a weird thing that Freed had decided to do for a reason Laxus didn't quite understand.

"You really just wanted me to look like a jackass?"

"No, that was coincidental," Freed admitted. "A happy coincidence, mind you, but not the reason I did it. You clearly had gotten overwhelmed by the possibility that the system might actually work, and you were getting in your own head about it. You needed to be shocked out of your own self-doubts, and it was the easiest way to do it. A simple ice-skating date is hardly a challenge when you've just avoided something ridiculous that you'd never enjoy."

Oh, that was actually kinda nice. Weird, but nice. Not what he expected. It was almost flattering, in a way, that Freed had chosen to help him at all.

Of course he couldn't actually say that. He'd entered the room with a build-up of energy, having expected he would need to force the truth out of him by repeatedly asking him. He had been so certain that it would take their entire time together, and it would end with Freed laughing and Laxus trying to salvage his own pride back. He'd half thought that his costumed self would be edited into the fucking Wipeout video to further add to his embarrassment. A kind, if not slightly odd, action was hardly what he expected.

"So, is it actually automated?" He asked, instead of voicing his thanks because it was the only thing he could think of saying. "Or have you just been saying it is while doing everything yourself."

"No, it's automated, but I can override anything should I want to, which is what I did."

"Show me," Laxus demanded.

Freed nodded, moving slightly so Laxus could stand beside him in front of the tablet. Laxus stood behind him, trying to ignore the fact that this was the closest he'd been to Freed, and he could almost feel the heat radiating off him. It was hardly an appropriate thing to think, particularly when he was going to be on a date with another man damn soon.

He focused on the interface. He saw a quick flash of what his date would be – another meal with a guy – before Freed overrode the system. He pressed a few buttons and ended up controlling the clothing pod. He loaded the program up, and was given a large interface of different outfits, all with pictures to show what they'd look like.

"It's surprisingly user friendly," Freed said, pressing a random outfit and loading it into the system. "Now if you went inside, you'd be wearing that."

"So even I could do it, then?" Laxus asked with a grin, and Freed faltered beside him.

"I suppose."

"What you did for me was pretty nice of ya, but I still ended up like an idiot in a costume because you made me wear it," Laxus mused aloud, and Freed audibly sighed beside him. "So if you think you're getting away without me turning the tables on ya, you're an idiot."

"I probably should have expected that," Freed murmured to himself, and Laxus laughed, placing a hand on his shoulder, and gently guiding him towards the pod. Freed didn't fight him.

"You should have," Laxus agreed, pushing him into the pod before Freed could second guess anything.

He stood at the tablet a moment later, knowing Freed was watching him. He swiped down the hundreds of outfits before inspiration struck him. He pressed the button for the search bar, typed in his idea, looked over the ten or so options before picking the one that looked the most ridiculous. He added it into the system, pressed the apply button, and grinned as the pod flashed with light. A moment later, Freed was revealed, and Laxus burst into laughter.

Freed looked ridiculous. Dressed entirely in an old-fashioned jester's outfit, purple and yellow, with a stupid hat covered in golden bells. He looked at himself in the mirror, crossing his arms unimpressed as Laxus guffawed at him.

"Holy shit," Laxus cackled. "What kinda date would need you to be dressed like that?"

"The system needs to cover all bases," Freed grunted, expression showing annoyance, but Laxus felt like a smile wanted to break through when the bells on his hat jingled. "Can I have my own clothes back, please?"

"We've got a couple minutes before the sim starts, that's enough time to have fun," Laxus grinned, scrolling through the recommended costumes. He found one, applied it to the pod and activated it.

A moment later, Freed was dressed as a circus clown, and Laxus spluttered into laughter all over again.

"Very mature," Freed mumbled sarcastically, though his words were slightly nasally because of the large red nose he wore. "I'm glad you're having fun."

"I am," Laxus grinned, holding back sniggers as he took in Freed for a moment before he began scrolling again.

This was an opportunity that he couldn't waste, and he'd get the man in as many stupid costumes he could before the date began. He quickly settled on a vampire costume that looked equal parts cheap and ridiculous. Once he applied it, he was slightly disappointed to see that Freed managed to pull it off with startlingly good looks. It was twenty-fifty-five, nobody should be able to look good while wearing a cape.

"The fact you're not complaining about this kind of takes the fun out of it," Laxus teased. "You like dressing up or something?"

"Not particularly, but I'd rather you be doing this than stressing about your date," Freed shrugged, seemingly all too comfortable dressed like a vampire. "Night six has the highest success rate. I thought you'd be panicking, this is better."

Laxus paused for a moment, but didn't say anything. He instead found another costume, and grinned when he saw how little it suited Freed. A clean-cut man like Freed didn't make a good caveman.

He fiddled with the tablet for a little while longer, flicking between costumes. Freed managed to make them look better than he had any right to do, but some of them looked ridiculous and Laxus decided to enjoy those as much as he could. A small timer at the bottom of the screen told him the simulation would be ready within the minute, and in a scramble to further annoy Freed, Laxus quickly picked a random outfit from the selection of superhero costumes. He had applied it before the lights to the simulation lit up, and smirked.

The smirk fell when he looked towards Freed. He'd expected it to be a cheap thing covered in cushioned muscles. The reality was… snug. Too snug for Laxus sanity, truly. He'd expected that Freed was hot as well as handsome, but having it clarified wasn't helping things. The guy was muscular, had a tight body, and biceps that strained against the fabric. Laxus pointedly didn't look down. That would be too much.

And he managed to pull off a bright red cape too. How? Capes were stupid. Not hot.

"You've had your fun," Freed said, and Laxus found solace in looking at his face rather than his very, very visible body. "May I have my own clothes back before you start your date?"

"Why?" Laxus asked as he stepped away from the podium. "Can't you do it yourself while I'm in there?"

"No, I can't," Freed muttered, and Laxus grinned.

"That kinda sounds like a you problem," He smirked, and Freed's face darkened for a moment as he stepped out of the pod. His cape billowed behind him and Laxus smirked. He patted the man on the shoulder. "I don't wanna leave my date waiting, after all," Without any reason to, he actually winked at Freed. "Enjoy your walk home, Superman."

As he entered the sim, he was fairly certain those few seconds of seeing Freed blushing unabashedly would be better than any date the system had in store for him.

---

"Is there something wrong with me?"

The high of messing with Freed hadn't lasted throughout the date, and the feelings had been replaced with a maudlin sense of nothingness. That was a feeling Laxus couldn't seem to get rid of throughout the day, and had persisted as he walked into the preparation room for the last time.

On paper, his date was his perfect man. He was intelligent and suave, well lived and happy to talk about his passions. He was hot, had the long hair that Laxus had always favoured on men, and had been pretty good company. He knew the guy was into him, and he felt like he should have reciprocated the attraction. This man should have been ideal for him, and yet Laxus had felt like he was going through the motions. It made him wonder, if that man wasn't right for him, then who the hell would be?

"What makes you say that?" Freed asked, who had been hunched over his table, furiously tapping at it before he'd entered.

"You said most people match with their sixth date. The guy was nice, good looking, we had interests in common," Laxus muttered. "Didn't feel anything for him."

"That doesn't mean there's something wrong with you."

"Maybe," Laxus didn't believe it.

He'd wanted to be the person who ruined THE S0U1MATES SYSTEM'S reputation. He'd wanted to be the person who proved that soulmates were pointless because they didn't exist, and even if they did, a computer program wouldn't be the way to find them. He just hadn't realised that, if he did prove that to be true, it would feel like a punch to the gut.

The system had a complete success rate! Everyone who had ever been involved found love. It was fact. Laxus was apparently going to be the exception to that. He was the first unlovable person to enter the program, and he would be the idiot who couldn't get a boyfriend no matter what.

It was shit. It was just fucking shit.

"Laxus, they're just dates," Freed said softly, placing a hand on Laxus shoulder in a comforting gesture. It felt like fire against him. "We dress them up with fancy technology, and we can explain the science in a way that makes it sound impressive, but a date is just a date. When you get two people together, they can fall in love within a moment, but they could also hate one another. That can happen to anyone, no matter what the statistics say."

"The statistics ain't got it wrong with anyone else."

"And you don't know that they have with you. People wait for the seventh night, and it works out for them," Freed assured him, the hand now gently massaging him. It was electric, and Laxus could almost allow himself to be thrilled by it. "And even if the man isn't the person you end up with, you'll find someone at some point. Don't put this on some kind of pedestal, all you'll be doing is meeting a man for the first time."

"The guy's meant to be my soulmate," Laxus scoffed. "It ain't exactly like meeting for coffee."

"It is what you make it, Laxus," Freed placated him. "Not matching with him isn't a failure of personality. It's just a thing that has happened, and it doesn't shape you."

"I guess," Laxus muttered, not exactly confident in his own words.

"You will find someone Laxus," Freed said firmly. "You're fun, intelligent, confident, good looking. A man is out there, and he will find you. Just give him time."

Freed didn't say anything else, and instead patted Laxus on the shoulder and returned to his tablet to do whatever it was he did. Laxus looked down at the floor, his nerves and self-pity only slightly at bay as he tried to agree with what Freed had said. He had come into the program wanting to prove that it was false, and he should have known this would be the outcome.

Focusing on his own problems, he didn't notice the slight change in posture from Freed. His eyes had widened, and he was tapping somewhat manically at the tablet. His teeth were gritting together and his heart hammering. A moment later, he stood up, and Laxus frowned when he saw how tense he looked.

"Don't overreact to this," Freed demanded, voice too calm. "This is a glitch, nothing else. The system has flaws, this is apparently one of them."

"What?"

He took a moment before speaking again. "Apparently you haven't been matched with someone tonight," Freed spoke quietly, almost under his breath, and Laxus felt as though he had been shot. Freed was quick to speak before Laxus could spiral. "This is the program not being able to work as intended. It is not a reflection of you. Do you understand me?"

"Fucks sake," Laxus growled, running a hand through his hair. "Fuck!"

"It's not you, Laxus," Freed tried to tell him, but Laxus was walking towards the door. He needed to leave, to get out of this damn place as quickly as he could. Why the hell had he gone there? He was an idiot. He shouldn't have gone. "Wait. Laxus, don't leave."

"Why the hell shouldn't I?"

"Because I don't want you to," Freed said quickly. "I don't want you to feel like you're… whatever it is your feeling. Because whatever it is, whatever you're telling yourself, is false."

"How the hell do you know?"

"I've watched every date of yours, Laxus. I know you, and you are a good man, and anyone would be happy to have you," He insisted, stepping towards Laxus, and placing a hand on his forearm. "If I'm honest, I found myself somewhat jealous that those men got to be with you. I'm sure I could find hundreds of men who would feel exactly the same. Truth be told, I had to stop watching you talking with that little blonde ass last night. It's unprofessional, I know, but it must be said. You are a man who, one day, will be adored and you will deserve it."

Laxus scoffed. "Sure."

"You're incredible, Laxus," Freed stepped closer, placing a hand on Laxus' cheek. Laxus blushed at the action despite himself. "And if this program has made you think otherwise, even for a moment, then it is pointless. Do you understand me?"

"You think I'm incredible?" Laxus asked, voice a little raspy as he looked down at Freed.

"I do."

"Then do something about it," Laxus whispered because he needed Freed to do this.

And he did.

Freed leant forward without hesitation, tilting up his head and slowly, cautiously pushed his lips against Laxus'. His hand remained on Laxus' cheek, and slowly he started to move his lips in tandem with Laxus', opening his mouth slightly as he pushed himself up against him. Laxus wrapped an arm around Freed's waist, and felt himself clinging to the man as if he were a lifeline.

The kiss could only last a moment, and when Laxus pulled away and was met with the slightly flushed, kiss swollen expression of Freed in his arms, all of his doubts seemed to flow away. This was more important.

"Damn," He whispered, and Freed breathed out a laugh.

"Yes," He agreed. "Damn."

"Wanted to do that from when I first saw ya," Laxus admitted.

"And I you," Freed confessed, smiling. "I must admit, watching you with those men became somewhat torturous by the end."

"Would've stopped if you told me," Laxus shrugged.

"Then you might not have come back, and I didn't want that any more than I wanted to see you match with someone," Freed chuckled.

They stayed in their embrace for a moment, Laxus gently stroking Freed's lower back with his fingers in a slow and comforting gesture. Freed was still cupping his cheek, and it was a delightful sensation that Laxus didn't want to break. He would have to at some point, and he found himself at a loss of what to do next. For a moment he considered asking Freed to set up some kind of simulation for them both, but he felt he'd had enough of the damn place for now.

"You wanna maybe go somewhere and get something to eat?" He asked, and Freed pulled back slightly with a smile.

"That'd be nice," Freed agreed, though then smirked. "Though are you sure it's not too boring? Wouldn't you rather ice skating? Or maybe a boxing match? Or an obstacle course that you keep failing at?"

"Don't be a dick," Laxus laughed, pulling himself off of Freed. "Or I'll drag you back to the pod and you'll have to go to dinner dressed as batman. Dunno how happy a restaurant is gonna be with the Dark Night's cape falling in the soup."

"I'd rather avoid that. My roommate already thinks me odd after what you did yesterday, I don't need anyone else agreeing with him," Freed laughed, and Laxus grinned at the confession. He wrapped an arm around Freed's waist as they began to leave the room. "Though, if I could get you in the Peter Pan costume again I couldn't complain. Those tights were rather flattering."

"Didn't realise you were lookin'," Laxus smirked.

"I was more subtle than you were, then," Freed grinned, and Laxus laughed.

As they left the room, the simulation unused, neither man noticed the screen of the table lighting up with an updated message.

Laxus Dreyar.

Profile = Matched.

Soulmate Level = 100%