#i don’t expect any less from a country that can’t acknowledge

[myouicieloz]

Live your life

band!aespa x groupie!reader

Synopsis: It’s been less than a year since the band Aespa was created. Karina, Minjeong, Giselle and Ningning travel all over the country with nothing but a few gigs, little money and much love for the music. They’re far from superstars, and still don’t have a lot to offer. Besides, there’s something they can’t quite grasp: why you, the band’s most faithful fan, follows them without even questioning.

Warnings: lots of plot w a little bit of smut in the end, as alwayss.

Word count: 6.5k

Notes: I tried following the MV in chronological order (except for that little deck scene bc I forgot abt it and when I went back to rewatch the MV I didn’t know where to squeeze it in so wtvr) and I’m kinda proud w the way it turned out ˆˆ I had lots of fun writing it so I hope you have fun reading it too!! Also I ❤️ you band!aespa let me be your fucktoy I can take the four of you. and not in a fight (probably in a fight too).

pt.1 | pt.2

“Is this legal?” Ningning asks, hugging the straps of her backpack. She tilts her head up to grasp at the place that would make their stay for this week of competition, its grand walls of concrete leaving her in awe.

You’ve been wiser this time: the cache of the band’s last performance made it possible for them to buy a roof rack for your brother’s— now basically theirs— van, which provided much more space for equipment and luggage. 

“Not really.” The four of you say, in unison. With a deep sigh, you grab your belongings and walk towards the huge stairs that precede the nearly-abandoned place. 

“It used to be a bathhouse,” Karina tells the maknae, holding her by the shoulders as they walk forward in hopes of making her less uneasy. “But now they use it as a vintage, low-cost hostel, or whatever. It’s always cramped during these times of the year, so we’re safe Ningnie. Don’t worry.” 

The bathhouse is huge, although its dirty façade announces it’s been long since the place served its initial purpose. Grass grows around their feet, nearly disappearing into the wild, and there’s a great amount of dirt clinging to their shoes in the parking lot. Three floors are presented in front of them in all of their grandness, in a structure so massive the place could be misguided as a shopping mall. 

Ningning gulps, although she doesn’t look relaxed in the slightest. Going up so many flights of stairs leaves you breathless, resting your hands on your knees as soon as you reach the entry lounge. The inside of the building is much different from what you expected: it’s filled with warm lights, and most importantly, it’s packed. Young people storm from side to side, hanging out in the corners or walking in rushed paces. The mixed voices bring a lively vibe to the open area, and you smile as you watch comforting chaos unravel. Such noise is enough proof that you're here: the girls are actually going to perform in the most important music competition in the country. 

A hand on your shoulder grabs your attention as you reach for your camera, itching to record every second of the journey. Ningning’s voice makes you look up amidst getting lost searching for it in the middle of your stuff.

“Y/n.” She calls for you, staring at the ground to avoid making eye contact. Her shoulders are pressed downwards, announcing a hesitant posture much unlike herself. You hum in response, acknowledging her while still looking through your backpack. “Is it ok if we room together, this time?” 

You watch as Ning brushes her hands repetitively, aware something’s wrong. Ningning might be the youngest of the band, but she’s usually mature, serious, and confident; It’s concerning to have her acting like that.

“Sure, unnie.” You smile at her, looking around as you squeeze her arm in hopes of offering her some reassurance. After making sure the other girls were busy with the check-in, and that there weren’t any eavesdroppers, you ask, “Are they back again? Have you been getting any sleep?”

Ningning’s nod, followed by a tired sigh, is enough of an answer. You know being so dependent on her friends bothers her deeply, even though you’ve told her countless times none of you mind. 

It’s well-known among the girls that Ning struggles with night terrors. Being an independent and strong-willed child made her extremely talented, but also very lonely. Ningning’s parents invested in her and sent her away from her hometown, Harbin before the age of 10. From then on, the maknae found herself all alone in Korea, pushing through an excruciating routine at a shitty entertainment company where people barely knew her name. She never spoke, at first because she didn’t know Korean at all— but also because people rarely talked to her; only urging her through events and evaluations like a doll.

Or better, more like a ghost. The loneliness clung to her bones, making its way through her soul until she wasn’t even sure who she was without it. 

Ever since then, her nightmares have kept her awake at night, trapped in a tangled mess of absurd dreams that deprive her of getting any rest. The hallucinations are so real she’s frequently urged out of sleep with a trembling body and heavy nausea, rushing to the nearest bathroom in complete panic.

Thankfully, not sleeping by herself is something Ningning found to be of much help, even if just a bit. So the girls take turns holding the youngest member close in their arms until her body gives up to exhaustion, still trembling. 

That was before Ning had gotten it under control. With the help of a professional and her friends’ endless support, she eventually learned how to suppress her troubled thoughts. As months went by, her nightmares somehow did not scare her as much as they did when she was a little girl. 

Or so she thought. Asking for help meant things were not looking good at all, which set up an alarm in the back of your mind. 

You had to talk to Karina about it and let the leader know. Out of the three girls, she was the most protective of Ningning: the duo acted like sisters most of the time and had a tight bond. 

“We’ll get rid of those nasty monsters, Ningie.” You tell her, resting your arm on her shoulders as you walk side by side to the elevator. “Fuck them. I’ll personally beat their asses for disturbing our little princess’s sleep.” 

Ningning’s laugh fills up the small corridor, and as she clings to your body, you’re reminded of how small she is. The maknae trusts you; it’s something you feel in the way she reaches out for your embrace, allowing herself to be vulnerable even if not for long. 

“So,” Karina says, staring at the four of you with a serious face. “I know we all want to enjoy the festival too, and we absolutely should. But it’s late, and it’s a week-long competition, so I say we take it easy and rest today.” 

The leader's words reverberate through the elevator, her assertive tone leaving it clear that it was a rather strong-willed suggestion as you all nod. 

“We’ve worked hard for this opportunity.” Minjeong agrees, leaning onto the big mirror that gave the impression that the elevator was much bigger than its actual size. “Let’s not fuck it up. We can have fun later anyway.” 

“Our first performance is tomorrow, but we have a bunch of interviews scheduled before that. We must be well prepared and rested.” Giselle adds, while they get onto their floor and start walking toward their assigned rooms. 

Somehow, the girls always manage to get caught up with something just minutes before getting in the car for their road trip, which meant you arrived later than expected. At nearly 4 AM, everyone was tired, even though the adrenaline of being part of something as big as The Box was enough for them to be a bit jumpy, eyes darting around to capture everything dimmed possible. 

The rooms were better, this time: there wasn’t any dust and the place looked fairly comforting, compared to the last place you stayed at. You drop your backpack and your small suitcase onto the ground without much care.

“Goodnight, cuties. See you in the morning.” You murmur, rubbing your eyes as you throw yourself on the bed, extra tired from being the designated driver for the entire journey. Giselle, Winter, and Karina wave faintly, too, making their way to their room at a quick pace. 

Ningning smiles and watches as you stretch yourself, exhausted. She’s quick to drop her stuff and pull her single bed, although it doesn’t move further than an inch. “Y/n… help me join the beds, please?” 

“Right, right. Of course.” With some effort, the two of you manage to move the two beds together into the center of the room, and you relax for a bit while Ningning occupies the bathroom. The soft sheets that welcome your face are much different from the leather seats of your car, and the change is well welcomed— so much you let out a deep sigh, relieved now that you’re finally able to relax. 

After changing into your pajamas, you stare at the ceiling and you wait for Ningning to hop out of the shower and join you in bed before falling asleep yourself. However, the last thing your mind registers are the soft sounds of Yizhuo’s shower before sleep takes over your body and you lose a short-lived battle to unconsciousness. 

—

Life is anything but peaceful when you give up a normal, ordinary life to live off of music. Not that it’s a bad thing: if anything, the thrill of not having a routine grants to the girls a type of freedom that only comes with art. 

That’s all Karina can think about as the five of you hang out at a big, open field. There’s a fence where you and Ningning sit, and the cool breeze messes up her long, pitch-black hair. More than freedom, the leader’s chest also burns with a deep sense of accomplishment. 

Within a blink, she’s at the bathhouse’s rooftop and this time her bandmates chat lively by the place’s enormous sign. It’s nighttime, and a different kind of unsettlement takes place inside her rebel heart this time, one Karina feels deep in her bones.

Thankfully, she doesn’t have to dwell much: her senses prove to be right almost immediately when they’re struck by a sea of shooting stars. They fly by so fast Karina barely sees them, making their way through with such strength she’s pushed onto the ground. There’s only enough time for her to grab a single star, grasping the small light within her hands as strongly as she can. 

But just as fast as it happened, the storm is gone. Karina looks up to talk to you and the girls about it, but you’re nowhere to be seen. She frowns, realizing she’s left all alone, under the darkness of a starless sky. 

That’s when she wakes up: breathless, trembling badly as she grabs her neck in hopes of making more air run through her lungs. Despite the cool night, her body is drenched in sweat. Yet, the oldest member can’t help but sigh in relief once she looks up beside her and finds Minjeong peacefully asleep. The leader looks to the other bed, where Giselle’s faint snores can be heard, her mouth hanging slightly open as saliva drools onto the bassist’s pillow.

Karina’s safe. She’s with her girls, in the comfort of their room. 

Yet the loneliness she felt still echoes through her body, hurting enough to draw small tears from her eyes before she acknowledges it. It had been such an empty moment… to look up and not see any of the people she loved and cherished deeply. 

It’s something Karina decides she never wants to feel again. 

“Mhm…” Minjeong stirs, her eyes half open as she stretches her arms out. Karina’s noises probably woke her up— the girl has never been a deep sleeper anyway. “What are you doing awake?” 

A few seconds go by, and Karina stays silent. The answer comes when the blonde is almost falling asleep again, so low Minjeong thinks she’s imagining it. “You left me there, all alone. All of you.” 

“We… who?” Minjeong’s voice is scrappy with confusion. She looks at the leader, scratching her head as she watches Karina get up. “Why would we do that? We’re literally right here, unnie.”

Minjeong’s attempts to understand her friends fail. If anything, she’s bluntly ignored by Karina, who shakes Giselle gently until she manages to get the Japanese girl up, although clearly in a zombie-like state, still barely conscious. 

The weather was still a bit hot by the time they arrived, so the girls agreed to leave the old, arched windows open for the night. Now, the wind had messed up the leader’s wavy hair, and there were little eye-bags under her eyes from waking up so abruptly. As a result of such an intense dream, Karina’s lips trembled and her body lacked its usual strength, which was noticeable by her limp arms. She looks fragile, clearly disturbed by a train of thoughts echoing inside her mind. 

And the way the leader stares at Minjeong so helplessly… It’s the reason why she doesn’t question when Karina offers her hand to help the blonde out of bed, in complete silence. One that remains until the leader unlocks your and Ningning’s room with her spare card, walking onto the bed with light steps— as if she was taken by the wind itself. 

Your bedroom is not as big as theirs, and the improvised bed is still rather small, but Karina makes it fit. Her hand is keen on Giselle’s back, urging the girl back to bed as the leader lies her down once again. Like in a puzzle, Minjeong squeezes herself between your arched back and Ning’s body, careful to not wake up either of you. 

“Feeling better?” She asks Karina, who watches the scene with a small smile. Minejong’s heart is filled with warmth at the girl’s pretty face, as she closes her eyes once again. 

“Much better.” The vocalist murmurs, calm and collected. Being tangled with her girls at one of the country’s most successful music events is enough to dissipate her previous loneliness. There’s nothing else she needed but the five of you. “I’m no longer alone, now.” 

She’s complete.

—

The Box is an event created for Companies from all over the country to show off their assets and make as much profit as possible—and they make sure to capitalize on every second of it, which is as much of a burden as it is an opportunity for its participants. The girls had interviews, outfit changes, and makeup booths provided by sponsors, guaranteed as long as they shot commercials and launched a few good words about their brands. 

Held in a big, open area, the place brings goosebumps to Karina’s stomach, reminiscing too much of her dream as the same clouds wind on the sky, blocking the sun’s path. Just as she had done moments prior, you look up too, frowning. The lack of light makes the day seem gloomier than usual, and a single droplet of rain would result in an atrocious, muddy day. 

And that would be a disaster, for sure.

“So,” After recording the stage they’d perform at in just a few hours, you turn around and nearly shove your camera on Giselle’s face. “Enlighten us, Gigi: why is the festival named The Box if the main stage is actually a big fucking losangle?” 

Giselle’s tone is condescending as she adjusts her perfectly arranged bangs, giving you a dirty look before answering. “Y/n, my love.” She redirects the camera to capture both of your faces, smearing your cheek with her lip gloss. “You just have to accept some things: like the weather, time… and The Box’s setup. It’s how it’s always been, so let’s not dwell on that matter, okay? Thanks.” 

“Very well, then. You heard her.” You nod back at the camera, capturing the massive stage for a few more seconds before pausing the recording. 

Giselle’s passive-aggressiveness was one of her hottest traits, and you loved to watch her boss people around. Which she always made sure of doing, whenever she had the chance to.

The Japanese girl giggles at your words, nudging you gently. Not much further from you, Karina and Ningning stand in a big line for something popular dish. You wave to them, and Giselle straightens her posture, following your stare as she grunts. 

“So, you and Jimin, huh.” She asks, plucking at the grass with her shoes. It’s obvious she’s trying her best to sound nonchalant and not make a big deal out of it.

It was no secret that you were devoted to Karina, surrendering yourself with as much as a whisper from her. Still, it was amusing to you how shy Giselle seemed with her question. Her hesitation was sweet, so cute it draws a smile from your face. 

“Oh… well, yeah.” You shrug, not at all ashamed of her hidden inquiry. “She needs someone to warm up her bed.” You eye Giselle attentively, studying the older girl’s body language before adding, “I can help you with that too if you’d like. I know Jimin unnie wouldn’t mind.”

Your answer catches her off guard, her eyes wide from your straightforwardness. You’re nearly teasing her for being so shocked when she laughs, shaking her head at your straightforwardness. It’s Giselle, after all: the girl has such a flirty nature you’d be surprised if she didn’t give you a run for your money. 

“We’ll see... You’re sure one of a kind, Y/n. That you are.” She answers, with a sultry tone before gently squeezing your arm and vanishing from your sight. 

That is enough for you. The Japanese girl’s gorgeous looks and confident nature make her so desirable and hot— truly an it girl, often leading the group to try out new music styles and different types of choreographies. Giselle is always pushing herself outside her comfort zone. 

It’s good that she knows you’re also willing to try anything she’d like, too. 

Brushing that subject off your mind, you take some time to dive into the festival, just as curious as the girls were: the place is still beautiful, despite the weather. Its lively atmosphere is enchanting, and there is so much happening: from bands singing on minor stages to dance performances not much further from where you stand. Everyone seems eager to participate, and you’re just as excited to watch everything at once.  

This event is also a great opportunity for you, considering you’re still attending university— hoping to major in Media Arts in a year or so. Even though you spend most of the time following the girls around, your passion for filmmaking and photography is also one of the reasons you’re so committed to recording everything your eyes meet. You plan on making this documentary into your final presentation of the year and submitting it to one of your main classes. 

So you record everything: making a full turn to capture your entire experience. You’re so committed to your task that you don’t even notice Minjeong’s frame behind you, the blonde girl not making an effort to move such thing as an inch from out of your way. 

The two of you collide with each other so roughly you have to hold onto the girl’s tiny frame with your free hand to prevent her from a having dirty fall.  Minjeong gives you an ugly look, impatiently wiping the dirt from her plaid skirt. She’s judgy, as always— not a day goes by where the blonde doesn’t give you a hard time.

Although you weren’t exactly peaceful to her, either. 

“Do you ever wear a bra?” She mumbles, annoyed. Minjeong’s fingers press the tip of her nose bridge and she closes her eyes as if dealing with you was enough to drain all of her energy. 

“Why are you looking anyway?” You’re quick to snap back, crossing your arms over your chest. 

Choosing comfort over fashion was something you’d always do, and today was no different. Your look for the day was rather basic but perfect for someone who’d be walking around the entire time: a pair of jeans and a plain white tank top that made your Aespa badge visible to anyone who took a quick look at you. However, that little show of hers has made the dirt that clung onto the fabric attract attention to your breasts, highlighting the way your pierced nipples peeked through. It had only been a few weeks since you and Giselle got them done, so you were still a bit hypersensitive.

Not that you minded, anyway. Minjeong would be a jerk regardless of that: the blonde made her life’s purpose to annoy the shit out of you, and she’s very committed to doing so.

Proving your point, Winter scoffs, all annoyed. “You always make this shit on purpose, don’t you?” You stare at her, confused, and it seems like she’s had enough. Rolling her eyes, Minjeong brushes past you, nearly dragging you by the shoulders as she stomps away. “Whatever. Whore.”

Minjeong is so rude. Undeniably so, with an insanely stubborn temper. Her mood changes quickly, and it is hard to tell if she genuinely hates you or if it is just some kind of playful banter. Not that you cared much, honestly. 

Truth be told, you had other things to worry about, like the amazing festival happening at the moment. You’d deal with that nightmare of a girl some other time. 

Instead of allowing the petite girl to disturb your mind, you decide to walk around by yourself too— despite preferring to be surrounded by the girls at all times, you were cool to be on your own.

You were deeply committed to making a masterpiece out of your clips. If the work you handed in was good enough, then perhaps your professor would overlook the number of absences on your attendance sheet and give you a nice grade. 

After walking around for a few minutes, a certain stage catches your attention: the structure is small and curiously held like a boxing ring, where nine girls sing and dance in beautiful harmony. The space is so far from the center of the festival its last rounds of chairs nearly drag onto the woods that surround the place. 

The girls performing are all dressed in dark pants, white crop tops, and black ties, and they’re incredibly in synch while still making complicated moves. Their voices are sweet, and so is the music that flows to your ears: it’s a cover of one of your favorite songs, KARA’s Mr.

Your eyes go straight to the sign that hangs in front of the stage, looking for said group’s name. Thankfully, it’s easy to find, both in Hangul and Romanized.

Fromis9.

The nine girls’ bright stage presence fills up the area, and it amazes you how coordinated they are, not one outshining the other despite being so many. No lines are stolen in the song; instead, they add to each other beautifully, reminding you of your girls. The contrast is fascinating, from Aespa’s four-member band to those strangers, who sing cheerful songs like this will be the last happy summer of their lives. 

You’re enchanted by them, truthfully. Not only talented, the girls seem genuinely sweet, as they spin and jump around to hype up the dead crowd. And oh, they’re stunning: each one with striking features, ones that surely seem like they’ve been taken straight out of a fairytale. 

You make sure to record their entire performance, as well as the little playful moments reserved for interacting with their fans and supporters. Soon enough, the song ends, leaving the group breathless but happy. You watch as the girls bow and take turns passing small water bottles around, tired from giving their all on stage. 

A few of them start a small discourse, although you don’t pay enough attention to grasp the meaning of their words. You’re too busy staring at one of them instead, hiding behind your camera so she doesn’t see how enamored you are. 

The girl is small, but her slim waist and toned muscles announce she must spend most of her free time at the gym. An energetic pink-haired girl clings to one of her arms, providing a clear contrast to her long, pitch-black hair, but she doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest: if anything, she hugs the energetic girl back, laughing and she twirls her friend around.

Luckily for you, there’s a big paper clasped in front of her shirt, just like every artist who is currently performing and competing at The Box. You search for her name with expectation, just like you’ve done with her group’s name.

Hers say, Saerom. 

A beautiful name for an enchanting girl. 

However, it’s her face that surprises you the most. She’s beautiful, of course— stunningly so, but so is everyone at this festival: something expected for a place with such a high concentration of artists, models, and people in the entertainment industry in general. But as you look into her high cheekbones and sharp jawline, you’re surprised to find such kind eyes staring back at you. Saerom’s eyes provide her soft, almost ethereal look as she nods to you. It’s a faint action, one a distracted eye would barely notice once she moves back to the middle of the stage with her bandmates, yet you’d never miss it. There’s no way she wouldn’t stand out, despite her plain outfit. 

You could stare at her for hours. 

Although you’re incapable of doing so: in a blink, steady hands grab your camera, and your arms are urged down so fast you nearly let it fall on the ground. Nothing disastrous happens, thanks to your steady grip and good reflex, but your vision is blocked by a serious Karina, fuming as she stares angrily at you. 

“What are you doing, Y/n?” The leader’s cocky, angry voice is something you only hear when she’s feeling intimidated or when she wants to be petty, which is unusual for the occasion. Why would she be so defensive towards you?

Karina usually yaps her heart out until your ears hurt from her complaints. It’s a normal thing for her to do, whenever she’s pissed. However, she doesn’t say anything this time, clearly waiting— demanding an explanation. 

So you lift your camera, playfully poking her in a failed attempt of easing the grumpiness out of her. “I’m making The Box’s documentary as my final presentation.” You stay on your tiptoes, trying to get a hold of the view Karina is blocking so confidently, but it’s useless by now: the performance is over, and the Fromis9 members have already retreated backstage. “For that class I told you about, remember?”

Karina rolls her eyes, ignoring your explanation as she directs you in the opposite direction. With a resolute tone, she brushes off the matter. “Whatever. Listen, Y/n: you should only focus on us, your band. There’s no need for you to look at anyone else.”

Oh, Karina’s fuming. It’s easy to tell, from the way she refuses to meet your face to the red that paints her cheeks. You giggle, enjoying her subtle possessiveness. 

Truth be told, you thrived on being reassured just as much as the girls did. The only difference was that you made an immense effort to hide how much it aroused you, well aware they’d use it as an advantage. 

Besides, there was a bit of truth behind her words: the girls were the only ones you truly felt connected to; they were yours just as much as you were theirs, and you didn’t feel like you needed to meet new people.

“Of course, Jimin unnie.” You nod, walking next to her as you turn your camera off and place it back in your backpack. “Aespa is the only band worth looking at, anyway.” 

Karina blossoms under your praise, smiling brightly as she kisses you gently, her irritation gone. “Good girl. Now let’s go to the main stage. There are only two hours until our performance, and the girls are starting to get ready.” 

You’d like to tease her back a bit but now wasn’t the time. Not when the band’s nerves were all over the place, nervous they’d fuck up the opportunity of their lives. No, you wouldn’t do such a thing. You’d be their anchor, peace, and most faithful supporter as you always were, ready to remind the girls of their true potential. 

With that, you and Karina walk back to the main stage with synchronized steps, and the moment with Saerom is brushed off to the back of your mind.

You've probably imagined the entire thing, anyway. There was nothing to wonder. 

—

“Hello, girls. Are you Aespa?” The staff asks, entering the room with his eyes glued to the list in his hands. After the five of you nod, he adds, with a comforting smile, “You’re on in 30. Come after you finish your makeup and clothes so we can start the soundcheck and set up your microphones.”

With another nod, you fall into a nervous silence once again. The girls have waited for this opportunity for so long; the crowd’s heated screams could be heard from where you stood, only adding to the girl’s expectations. It was the first time they performed in front of so many people, let alone at such a big and renowned festival. 

“I think I’m going to throw up.” Giselle mumbles, softening her necklace as if it were suffocating her. Her breaths were uneven, her eyes fixated on the ground. 

Karina smiles softly at the girl. As the leader, she knows it’s her duty to look composed and relaxed, to tranquilize her bandmates. “You’re not going to throw up, Gigi. You just need some air. Come on, let’s get out of here.” 

The leader grabs Giselle by the arm, urging her up. As they go through the door, Ningning rushes to follow their steps. 

“I need to breathe too.” She gulps, not even sparing you a glance as she runs to catch up with her friends. 

The nerves were striking, and they needed to look composed so they’d give their all on stage, as always.

You and Minjeong were the only ones left backstage, which allowed you to take some time to study her better. The blonde was perfectly still on the couch, with a rigid posture and hands clasped tightly on her lap. She looked composed, almost bored, as she always did— but you know her better. 

Minjeong’s muscles were visibly tense, and her left leg was bouncing so much you were afraid it’d be chopped off from her body. She’s usually so composed, rarely giving a fuck about anything in her life. Whatever it was, the most Minjeong would do was roll her eyes at it or give it a nasty, rude response. Nothing else.

Seeing her bottle up her feelings like that is something that leaves you deeply uncomfortable. The way she deals with her emotions is none of your business of course, and it’s not like she ever talks about how she’s feeling with anyone anyway. 

Minjeong rarely talks about herself; not to you or her bandmates. She’s simply someone very private when it comes to that matter. It’s something the blonde struggles with— understanding and acknowledging her emotions are not things that come to her naturally, so Minjeong would often carry her burdens alone until the feelings get so heavy she explodes, taking it off on someone who has nothing to do with whatever it is she’s going through. 

Although it surprises you to see how deeply caring the girl can be. Minjeong, who knows Karina loves apple-flavored candy and sorts them out for her leader, even though they all think it’s gross. Minjeong, whose personal space is sacred, allows Ningning to be as clingy as she wants, aware the maknae longs for physical contact after being deprived of it so much as a child. Minjeong, who is the most competitive person you’ve ever met, but lets Giselle beat her at deck games whenever they notice the Japanese girl is feeling down. 

Minjeong, who despises you thoroughly, but snuck a new SD card into your purse after seeing you struggle with your camera for a few days. 

You didn’t want her to make her big debut feeling like a nervous wreck. She needs to relax, and not be so tense otherwise she won’t do good in her performance. 

And you know just what to do. 

With a sigh, you drop your hand from the doorknob and turn to her, leaning on the wall to take a better look at her. 

“You’re nervous.” You state, smirking at the sight of her face growing red—the blonde girl, usually so collected… oh, how she hates to be caught. 

Most importantly, Minjeong hates you can always see right through her. 

“Well no shit, Sherlock.” 

Walking towards her with small, unhurried steps, you sit right next to her, crossing your legs as you lean onto her.

“I can help you with that.” You whisper to her, staring at her mouth. “Do you trust me?”

Minjeong scrunches her nose but doesn’t move away. Her answer, however, comes immediately— not an ounce of hesitation coming from her mouth. “Not at all.”

“Good.” You cup her face. “Wise girl.”

Leaning in, you capture Minjeong’s lips in a messy kiss. Despite her fiery personality, she tastes sweet, and you savor the strawberry essence of her lip gloss. Kissing Minjeong is addictive, yet you can’t seem to get enough of her. You lick her lips and devour her until your lungs scream for air, and the two of you get off each other when there’s no air and you’re both left desperate and breathless. 

Minjeong’s blonde hair flows freely, her scrutinizing stare forgotten the moment the two of you got so close your breaths entwined. For a moment, you don’t do anything but stare at each other, as you look for any signs of what she’d like to do next. You’re nearly sure she’d tell you to get lost until she grabs your neck and pulls you close, kissing you for the second time. 

“You’re completely insufferable, Y/n.” She murmurs in between the kiss as her thumb brushes down your neck. Even though there’s a faint pressure, her touch is almost soothing, urging you down to your knees. “Now, do more.”

You’re more than eager to follow her wishes, urging her pants and underwear down in a swift motion. Minjeong’s pussy is so pretty, all pink, swollen, and glistening, and you lick your lips with anticipation. The blonde girl lies comfortably on the couch as she spreads her folds with two of her fingers— showing herself to your hungry gaze.

“How do I look right now, Y/n?” Her tone is drenched with mockery as you squeeze her thighs, drawing a shiver from her. Your hands trace tiny circles on her milky skin, and you choose to ignore her; too focused on her beautiful body on display for you. 

Minjeong’s free hand goes to grip your hair, annoyed by your lack of response. “Fine, then. Do you want to know how you look?” 

Her malicious smile, much different from her delicate features, is what makes you shiver at her concentration. Giving her thighs faint bites, you ask, “Enlighten me, Minjeong.” 

“Like a whore.” Her grip tightens and you can’t help but bite harder this time. “Hey! See, I’ve always said you’re just a cheap who—“

Minjeong is silenced by your warm tongue on her pussy, licking a big stripe of her sex, as you go all the way up to suck on her clit as well. Her high-pitched moans are like music to your ears, and you take turns sucking her sensitive bud and letting out some lewd, loud sounds as you nearly make out with her pussy. 

“Do you want my fingers, pretty girl?” You mumble, staring at her through your lashes. 

Minjeong looks like a painting, beautiful with her mouth half-opened and a thin cover of sweat covering her brows. She nods frantically, urging you even closer.

Greedy, that’s what she is.

“Yes, please.” It’s the first time you’ve ever seen use her manners, so you’re quick to comply. “Fuck, Y/n…” 

Two of your fingers enter her cunt without any resistance as you thrust hard and fast. She bucks her hips to add to the stimulation, and you’re graced with the glorious view of her abs, thankful she chose a tiny crop top for the day. You want to see her tits, too, but it’s not like you’re in any position to demand anything— not while Minjeong uses you as a toy, rocking onto your mouth as her moans grow louder and louder. 

You feel her walls tensing up, and her toes curl as she tells you, “Y/n, I’m going t—“

“Cum for me, Minjeongie.” You give her clit one last, harsh suck, as her breathing becomes even quicker. “That’s it, let go.”

Minjeong follows your commands, reaching her orgasm with a high-pitched moan as she squeezes your head in between her thighs. Her body trembles from the stimulation, and you keep your fingers inside her walls until she’s calmed down enough that her screams are reduced to heavy breaths. You lick her clean, then, careful to not touch her clit as you eat her out for a few other moments. 

What’s most surprising to you, though, is the delicacy in her touch as she urges you up, tasting herself on your lips. 

“Sweet.” She giggles, before grabbing your tank top and pushing you off her. Minjeong’s obsessed with oversized jeans, and her current ones look huge on her tiny waist as she takes her time with buttoning up. “I really needed that, Y/n. Thanks.”

You don’t bother to hide a cocky smile as you nod, shrugging. 

“You’re going own that fucking stage today, Minjeong. All of you.” It’s what they were born to do. There isn’t a slight possibility of them not doing their absolute best on stage.

“I know.” Minjeong looks around, bouncing back and forth with her hands on her jeans’ back pocket. After a pause, she adds, with a quiet tone, “You’re going to be there, right? At the front row. Recording and all. It’s one of the only things you’re useful for.” 

You smile, understanding the hidden meaning behind her bored tone. “Of course, I will, dumbass. I’ll be there with you, as always.”

You’d always be there for your girls: cheering, supporting, or helping the band with anything they needed. 

Karina, Ningning, Giselle, and Minjeong were not sure of when you had become such an important figure in their lives, but there was something they all agreed on: they’ve grown too fond of you now. It was impossible to let you go. 

Not that you had any intentions of leaving their side, anyway. 

[bandzboy]

not me seeing this guy on the portuguese tv being like “we don’t know who is lying we would need a third party to tell us who is lying” and i’m just baffled because nobody said this about the russia-ukraine war everyone knows russia is the one doing propaganda but during a literal genocide you don’t know who to believe?? it’s obvious who you should believe! the civilians that have been bombed for years and years and are living in an open air prison and have no food and no water and have to see their families and others die on the daily THAT’S who you should believe there’s no way to stay neutral on this WHEN THE ANSWER IS RIGHT THERE IN FRONT OF YOUR EYES just say you support the oppressor and just wrap this shit up because this is embarrassing

[scamallach-1]

it is incredibly difficult to get even people in my own circle who I’ve known for years to get it thru their heads and not give me empty stares that settler-colonialism is the ‘primary contradiction’, the root of basically any oppression anyone faces today. I learned this from indigenous and Black decolonial liberationists. Everything we suffer, it seems, goes back to the Western settler-colonialism. This is ringing true.

And I’ve tried putting it into perspective for my fellow settler “Americans”: we aren’t different than the “Israeli” settler in our status here on occupied indigenous lands. Decolonization is the way and it’s just and good to serve and work toward it for and with indigenous peoples.

And yes we do have to do this work and learn this education now! “I’m not my ancestors” is bullshit considering we are actively still destroying the land and it’s rightful stewards to this very day. “Our ancestors” genocidal crimes never stopped and were carried generations into now - so I don’t understand why we can’t accept this fact, follow indigenous peoples lead toward decolonizing “America”.

It’s free Palestine it’s land back to First Nations people it’s colonized countries globally forcing the white supremacist European and “US” powers out. It’s just to be dedicated to helping to do what is right. Go to hell otherwise. Expect hell. I don’t even know what to say anymore to other settlers except this.

Read from Fanon, read Klee Benally, read Gerald Horne, Read Decolonization is Not a Metaphor while y’all are at it.

Learn the histories of federal Indian law (here via DecolonizedBuffalo on ig):

[Img text reads - From DecolonizedBuffalo’s book, in the section on Self-Determination;

“Now that it is established that the primary contradiction is settler colonialism, the reader must acknowledge another fact: Indigenous communities within settler states are sovereign nations. They are internal colonies. Sovereign Indigenous nations within the US have their own governments, court systems, laws, economies, programs, cultures, and languages. Settler Marxists within the United States should learn about the history of federal Indian law, and court cases that pertain to Indigenous sovereignty . To understand Indigenous sovereignty better, it is advised to learn about the Marshall trilogy cases and the history behind them:

-Johnson vs Macintosh, 21 US (8Wheat.) 543 (1823)

-Cherokee Nation vs Georgia, 30 US (5Pet.) 1 (1831)

-Worcester vs Georgia, 31 US (6 Pet.) 151 (1832)”

End img Text]

- - -

So we who are settlers don’t just have these histories on-hand in our minds because we weren’t taught about Indigenous histories from Indigenous truths and lenses, and we must learn - and recognize fully the crimes we still commit! Like for one example, we rally up to continuously ignore Indigenous decolonial activists and scholars and talk about “establishing socialism”, more Eurocentrism, assuming that we working class settlers will continue occupying and holding the means of production - on stolen land. No!

Just don’t speak so sure of *anything* as a settler before you give your time to LISTEN to decolonial liberationists, before you LEARN the principles of decolonization here in the illegal settler-states; and there’s special emphasis on getting ‘Marxist’ settlers to light this fire under their asses too because too many seem to think they know it all, that they are exempt, and that arrogance is real-world damaging to liberation movements.

Y’all we don’t know Jack shit about shit and yeah we do have to prioritize our edu now going forward if we haven’t already. There’s lots to learn, lots of work to learn how to do for liberation. Those criticizing settler-colonialism, aiming to root it out, aiming for land back, for indigenous sovereignty, for forcing out and end on settler occupations, for returning to their lands with full self determination by any means necessary - they deserve our numbers and our full-hearted fealty and nothing less!

[stillness-in-green]

Chapter Thoughts — Chapter 384: It’s a Small World

Sorry this one’s so late, folks, but in my defense, aside from stuff going on on the irl side, the chapter is also, just, so tiresome.  Difficult to muster up even a hint of enthusiasm for talking about. Bad enough that I thought for a while about shelving the chapter posts and getting back to my fanfic. I'm not there yet, not least because once I finally sat down to write it, this post turned out to be fairly short and simple, but we'll see how things look going forward. Lord knows there's no shortage of other writing, fic and meta both, that I could be spending my time on.

Pre-Cut Positivity:

O  I like Shinsou’s trembling flinch response when AFO does so small a thing as catch his eye.

O  This inset is hilarious:

“Ahhh, the ideal thing to put on for setting the mood on date night—live coverage of a life or death battle for the fate of a country. Honey, break out our best vintage. God, property damage gets me hot.”

(Hit the jump.)

O  The brainwashing out is absurd.  I feel like it’s the kind of thing you can just look at and tell it was written with the end outcome in mind without taking even a second to think about how the characters in-universe would feel if they didn’t know the outcome.  Why?

Well, I mean, think about it.  Shinsou’s brainwashing comes undone with “even a mild impact”?  And we’re to believe that the heroes thought they could safely prevent All For One from getting one of those in?  All For One?  The guy who did this at Kamino in less than a second?

(Side Note: I love this spread so much. AFO is the focal point of all this effortless destruction, but he didn't even have to raise a hand to do it. He's a man who should have been six years dead and gone, and, indeed, with his head drooping, his arms loose at his sides, and the way his feet dangle limply, he looks like nothing so much as a hanged corpse. Even death is not enough to stop him—this spread is a masterclass in abrupt terror.)

What exactly were the heroes expecting Mount Lady to do in case of an attack like this?  Sure, she can fend off physical stuff like Rivet Claw and the like, but a big AOE attack?  She’s not wide enough to make an effective wall for Machia to hide behind.  Even if she were, it wouldn’t be enough to completely prevent the shockwave coming through, and complete prevention is what would be needed if even a light impact is enough to break Brainwashing.

Hawks acknowledges it was a risk, but there’s a risk like jumping out of a second-floor window to escape a fire and then there’s a risk like skydiving with no parachute because you once read the story about the woman who survived a six-mile fall from an exploding airplane.  There are degrees of risk, that is to say, and I can’t imagine dropping AFO’s most potent and loyal weapon right into his lap being a risk any halfway sensible person would take, knowing that they don’t have squat that would block the effects of a huge area attack—indeed, we and the heroes both know they can’t prevent AFO from carrying out an attack like that, because only two chapters ago, they completely failed to prevent him from blowing Dark Shadow off him with a sky-high explosion. Accordingly, within seconds of Machia's arrival, AFO easily frees him.

It reminds me of a complaint I made about Hawks’ internal monologue about Togawice back in 375—that there are other and more obvious conclusions Hawks could have come to, knowing what he knows, about how Toga came to have a stock of Twice's blood. Instead, he magically deduces the correct answer because Horikoshi already knows what the correct answer is and apparently can’t or won’t allow Hawks to come to a logical but flawed conclusion because of limited information.  Here, the heroes are written as taking the risk not because it makes any sense that they would, knowing what they know, but because Horikoshi already knows there is no risk, because he already knows what’s going to happen when Machia gets free.

And what happens when Machia gets free is, of course, an enormous copout, a handwave to prevent Shinsou, the heroes, and the audience from honestly grappling with the ethical quandary Machia’s brainwashing presented.  “It’s fine that we mind-controlled Gigantomachia to attack the person he loves most in all the world because actually Machia wanted to attack AFO, so really we were just helping him do something he wanted to do anyway.”

Shh, never mind that no one involved in making the plan for using Machia could possibly have predicted that, nor would Shinsou have even known about it if it weren’t for the fact that Machia is conveniently capable of mumbling while under the effects of brainwashing—which even Midoriya, the other person cited as capable of resisting the brainwashing, was unable to do!

If Machia wants to lash out at AFO for abandoning him, fine.  But why do the heroes have to know about that in advance?  Why not just let everyone there be surprised?  Well, because then we’d all know that the heroes knowingly committed a war crime[1]—can’t have that!

What I would have far preferred is if Shinsou had realized Machia was mumbling and moaning about AFO, dropped the brainwashing, and actually just asked Machia for his help.  Would that be a risk?  Would people say it was far, far too stupid a risk?  But surely it’s not a more stupid risk than bringing Machia to AFO at all, and at least it would have involved one of the students finally manning the fuck up and taking a chance because it's the right thing to do.

A huge part of the heroes’ problem with the villains is that heroes are definitionally reactive. Hero Society lets victims sit and sit and sit in bad situations that only get worse with no one making any attempts to help, until finally a victim snaps and becomes a villain, at which point the heroes instantly turn up with the self-righteous moralizing about how the villains might have legit issues, but when they hurt people, they’ve gone too far.

Nedzu said that the hardest thing was to take the first step to bridge the gap of understanding—Shigaraki and Toga[2] made that effort repeatedly, as best they were capable of doing, and were rebuffed.  Now, it’s the heroes that have to take the initiative instead, especially since a handful of them have come around to the idea of wanting to help villains with whom they’ve come to sympathize.  But despite wanting to help, have they taken the first step?  Lowered their fists and taken the risk of holding out a hand instead?

Well, no.  They haven’t.

Deku wants to save Shigaraki, but he did nothing to modulate or gainsay the Sky Coffin plan.  Ochaco wants to understand Toga, but she made no attempts to convince the group she was assigned to to give her time to talk to Toga without an entire hero squadron at her back.  Shouto’s probably doing the best in this regard, as he asked Dabi for real answers and then gave his big brother time to provide them, but he’s still letting people like Hawks determine the playing field rather than living up to the promise made in Enji’s hospital room, that Touya would be dealt with by the family, as a family.

Shinsou's response to Machia follows the same pattern—while knowing that Machia was angry and betrayed, and apparently sympathetic enough to those feelings to make grand claims about Machia’s heart, Shinsou was not willing to actually bet on that heart, those feelings.  None of the heroes were.  All they were willing to do was take advantage of them. Their actions remain stunningly unheroic, for all that Horikoshi is trying to disguise it by aligning Machia’s desires with the heroes’ goal.

(Note, of course, that there’s no mention made of what’s going to happen to Machia after his help with AFO’s prospective defeat.  All those cities aren’t getting untrampled just because Machia helped with this.  And there’s still no word on what Machia might even consider his next priority, and thus what the heroes’ game plan will be if Machia decides said next priority is to help Shigaraki or go sulk in the mountains for another ten years. The easiest solution, and therefore the option I would bet on given my opinions about the writing right now, is for AFO to deal with Machia himself in some fashion that will negate the threat Machia could still represent to the heroes.  It’s not like the heroes have done Machia any favors that by rights ought to have won them his good behavior, you know?)

O  As an aside, while I still would have had heaps of complaints about the content, a lot of improvements to the story structure of the last few chapters could have been made by swapping out that cliffhanger of Shinsou and Kirishima atop Machia at the end of 382 with a shot of Machia muttering and grumbling something in inarticulate talk bubbles before he hurls the mountain, with the cliffhanger not showing who the mountain is thrown at. While the assumption of the speed-reader would just be that he's helping AFO, it would give an attentive reader just enough of a hint that there was something off about Machia before cutting to the flashback. That way, we'd have had both the set-up on Machia talking to himself while under the brainwashing rather than just having to take Shinsou's word for it, and the flashback would have had some actual tension because we wouldn't have known the outcome coming in.

O  No particular thoughts on the journalist angle.  It’s a lot of fluffing up of the heroes that they haven’t done anything much to earn in my view.  The gal in the pinstripes, in particular, was always a strawman, and not even one allowed to have the most natural grievance that would let the reader sympathize with her—a dead loved one rather than an injured one.  I appreciate that at the very least she looks ambivalent rather than rhapsodically won over.

(I would, notably, have quite a lot more to say if the scanlation’s rendering of her lines were even remotely accurate—her blaming herself for the damage caused by the public's loss of faith in heroes would be, like, WOW, such bullshit.  But neither Caleb’s translation nor pikahlua’s indicate anything to that effect, so I’ll let that go.)

I’d love it if, for once, the media could catch the heroes in something controversial live on camera rather than just critiquing them after the fact.  And at this point, if the controversial thing is Deku trying to talk down a villain rather than punching him into oblivion?  Well, that’d present Deku with some much overdue pushback, though not hardly the most interesting source for said pushback.

Better luck next chapter, all.  Maybe we can finally see what approach Deku’s going to take with Shigaraki. Or use this nice cutaway to get back to Aoyama and Kunieda; that'd be nice.

--

[1] Or what would be a war crime if this were a duly declared armed conflict between nations etc. etc. 

[2] Given that Dabi’s opening gambit in this regard is a propaganda video, I have a hard time including him in this count.  Sorry, Dabs.  In fairness, he did spend most of his childhood trying to bridge the gap between himself and Endeavor without success, so he’s perhaps due a bit of fast-forwarding to the Kill Everyone stage it took Shigaraki and Toga most of the series to reach.

[big-parma]

The Absolute State of Maths Education rn

Yo so the bigwigs at VCAA (the guys who write the curriculum for all education in Victoria, Australia) have been coming out with new study designs for almost all VCE classes that’ll be implemented at different points over the next 3 years. The VCE is considered relatively prestigious-ish in the sense there’s a fair few people in other countries who send their kids to Victoria to do it (Australia’s biggest export is education after all) so it’s a big deal when major changes happen to how important courses run. Context = understood.

So I’m a maths (…and science) teacher now and the major changes to the three maths streams since I graduated in 2012 can be summed up like this:

Spesh (the highest tier of maths, scales up the most out of any course except stuff like Latin) - Kinematics are less of a thing but they added in Proofs and hypothesis tests(?!) instead

Methods (still high scaling, but more like uni engineering maths instead of theoretical crazy hard stuff) - Stats removed, some more “calculus but if you can’t do calculus to that particular thing” included instead

Further Maths (General maths, scales down(?!) and is the “ya got a mortgage here’s a maths problem” class that a commerce degree at uni usually means by saying you need at least one maths background to get in) - the stats from methods is here now and they call it General Maths to stop the confusion with it and methods

and there’s also now a fourth tier of maths called foundation

I’m assuming foundation is the barebones “pay your bills with x income And do your taxes” class your relatives keep saying they should’ve been taught how to do in school

So that’s all the changes across a decade of education. When they announced “big changes are coming to the way things will work across VCE maths” I think I’m safe to say most of us took it as the usual reordering and in/out for content as described above. Since I’m a good boy (read “I wanted to put on a good front to make sure I got my contract extension” - I’m permanent now dw) I attended the online seminars (lmao webex) that they presented as information sessions on the changes.

First one was Spesh. No biggie, exactly what you’d expect, some stuff’s swapped again, hang on Pseudocode is in..? But that’s just any code that could do any maths?! And they’re mentioning that it’s in methods too??? The chat at this point’s asking a lot of questions, mostly “how can we know what’s examinable so we can actually teach this??” But thankfully they have an example that should satisfy you:

This is not even a half step above “hello world” and it’s in the hardest maths course? How hard does this get? What do they consider legit? Is there an example exam question that they have as a reference? How will they be able to write textbooks on this if that’s all they have?

No answer. Oh well methods is the next day maybe that will elaborate on it.

Methods opens with the same spiel on things, negligible changes imo on actual content… and he acknowledges some confusion from yesterday on Pseudocode! Has he got an answer? What’s the example this time…

Oh. And it’s definitely examinable and we might elaborate on that later but for now that’s all we got.

That was all 2022. Recently (2023) they did the same thing for “revisions” which was for FurtherGeneral Maths’ course (all of these are being phased in kinda since changing a year 12 course when year 11s are running on the old one makes no sense). Guess what showed up in the General Maths study design!

It’s ya boi 21st century life skills!

I’ll be honest, I was a little suss on this from the Meth/Spesh presentations but I think this confirms what I was thinking: this is some boomers pulling the “kids need to learn how to computer” card isn’t it? Don’t get me wrong, kids do need to learn to computer, but lol as if they’ve got this as their only example to show off across all three variety of maths!

But wait, there’s more!

They’ve got a page about it now! Yay! There’s some more examples - harder ones now - but there’s still no actual information on how this topic can be presented on the actual end of year exams. What do i teach them? What constitutes legit Pseudocode vs nonsense pretend code? Is this basic computer science 101 or are the kids going to be presented with a max level spesh question through the lenses of a guy saying “yeah but make it code”

eh I’ll just teach them excel :)

[spiesareforeverobsessed]

Begging For You

This is an old fic I am transferring to my new blog, since I have become obsessed with SAF again. I can't remember if I have posted this on tumblr before or just Ao3 but it is mine. Enjoy!

Trigger Warnings: Guns and canon typical violence.

Summary: Curt and Owen end up in a sticky situation and grow closer getting out of it. Short oneshot. Pre-Canon.

Owen was frozen in place, the cool barrel of a gun pressed against his forehead and their intended target staring at him from the other end of it.

They had gotten some bad Intel and there had been more guards than they were expecting. They had still faired well all things considered. Of course nothing less was to be expected coming from the two best spies of their respective countries.

However the time it had taken them to neutralize a few of the extra guards had given their target time to grab a weapon of his own and get in position to point it straight at Owen while the agent had been taking down a particularly burly guard.

He’d had to throw his own weapons to the floor in the hopes of his shooting being delayed long enough to find a way out. The man with the gun is monologuing to him with a smug smile, but Owen doesn’t hear his words. His mind is going a mile a minute trying to find a way out of this situation alive.

Another voice however, does break through his rapid thoughts and register. “Please don’t shoot him.” He recognizes the voice of his partner, though he has never heard it quite like this before. Usually Curt’s voice is, not loud necessarily, but bold. Full of charm and bravado. Boisterous. Right now it is weak and pleading.

His captor turns slightly to look at Curt allowing Owen to see him as well. He is dismayed to see the final standing guard is behind Curt, he was hoping at least his partner would escape this mess. They are a mere foot away from Owen and this criminal. His mind starts working faster as the man in front of him speaks. “What did you just say to me?” The criminals voice has a touch of incredulity to it.

Curt’s face is slightly bruised and bloody but what really draws his attention is his partner’s eyes. They are filled with pure terror. Owen almost winces as that weak voice comes out of Curt’s mouth again. “Please don’t shoot him.” He repeats.

The criminal’s voice still has that touch of incredulity as he speaks again but it is now accompanied by a note of amusement that makes Owen’s blood boil. “Are you begging right now Agent Mega?”

Owen hears the question but dismisses it. That can’t be right. Curt Mega doesn’t beg. Owen has (unfortunately) seen him tortured for information for hours on end and not even give up his name, let alone beg. He can’t possibly be-

Owen’s thought process stutters to a stop as he sees Curt give a shaky nod. He can’t believe it. He tries to meet Curt’s eyes but the other spy is trained on the gun against Owen’s head. Owen is startled slightly by a bark of laughter from the criminal threatening him. His blood boils hotter.

“That’s cute. Keep going. Perhaps it will have more effect on me if you are on your knees.” He suggests, clearly entertained. That is definitely a step too far though. There is no way that Special Agent Curt Mega, self proclaimed and government (grudgingly) acknowledged ‘Best Spy in America’ is going to get down on his knees and beg for a lowlife criminal.

Except he does.

Without any hesitation that Owen can see.

Curt slowly but purposely lowers himself to his knees, hands in the air, and looks up at Owen’s captor. “Please don’t shoot him. Please.” The American agent repeats for the third time.

Another bark of laughter. Owen’s blood reaches what he thinks has to be maximum boiling point, until he sees his captor reach his free hand out and place it on Curt’s face. “Well isn’t this a sight to se-”

He doesn’t get to finish. Owen is a realist. While he is blown away by and appreciative of Curt’s gesture, he doesn’t believe it will make this asshole change his mind about killing Owen. However, it did provide a distraction. As his captor turned and mocked Curt, cupping his face, he dropped his grip on the gun just a tad.

Just enough.

Owen quickly grabs the gun, immediately bringing it up to the guard behind Curt and delivering a shot to the head before the guard can react and harm either one of them. He then pulls his arms back and brings the barrel of the gun crashing down as hard as he possibly can against his former captor’s temple, sending him to the ground, passed out. Unfortunately, their orders were to take him alive.

The shot he fires into the unconscious man’s leg is non-fatal and arguably unnecessary. However Owen feels perfectly justified as he bends down and wraps an arm around Curt’s waist to help pull him up.

The car ride is silent as they deliver their target to their contact, who quickly takes him off to places unknown. Probably to be interrogated before being thrown in some hole to rot, Owen thought with a vindictive satisfaction that he tried not to look too deep into. Just another bad guy stopped by him and his partner. That was all. A successful mission.

As Owen resumes driving, now heading towards their hotel, he finally speaks up. “Thank you.” He doesn’t elaborate. He doesn’t have to. Curt understands. He sees the American agent nod in acknowledgement in his peripheral vision.

With it being so late their directors both agreed they should stay one more night in the hotel. Treat their wounds (luckily nothing too serious) and get some sleep before packing in the morning to be jetted back to their respective countries.

Owen doesn’t question it when Curt hesitantly crawls into his bed beside him instead of laying down in his own bed across the room. He just shifts to make room for the other and, after a moment of thought, wraps his arms around his partner. There is no complaint or resistance so he relaxes in this new position.

Of course it is purely so neither of them fall off.

Neither of them speak and Owen eventually hears and feels Curt’s breathing even out, suggesting the American has fallen asleep. Owen stays up, eyes attempting to stay trained on the ceiling, but occasionally glancing down. Body warm and comfortable. Mind futilely willing the night to last a bit longer, just this once.

For some reason, he is really not looking forward to the morning.

[worstjourney]

Help! Where Are The Books?

It’s been a very exciting couple of weeks – we launched, we signed, we were featured in The Observer, and we sold out our first print run. Great news for publishing, rather iffy news for anyone who wants to buy a book!

It was very hard to know what kind of demand there would be for a graphic novel adaptation of a hundred-year-old travel memoir. We were fairly confident it would appeal to polar nerds, and to fans of graphic novels, but how many people is that, and how would they even find out about it? When I was originally looking for a publisher, Worst Journey‘s resistance to categorisation was a liability – how do you sell a book when you can’t narrow down even which shelf to put it on? Is it children’s or adults’? Science? History? Travel? But precisely this quality has turned out to be a strength: I have had people tell me they got one for their adventurous grandson, their nerdy niece, their comics-loving brother-in-law, and their history nut great-uncle – and all these people were confident that it was just the thing for their intended recipient. We had started with a print run of 1000, just to see, and with people buying multiple copies for a wide range of people in their lives, we’ve ended up more or less selling out, in just under two weeks! Never could have guessed.

I’ve had a number of people asking me how to get hold of copies, so if you’ve come here looking for the same thing, here are some answers which I hope will help:

Where can I get a book, like, NOW?

Currently, the gift shop at The Polar Museum in Cambridge has the most copies in stock. If you can get to Cambridge (Wed-Sat 10-4), your chances of being able to walk out with a book are pretty high. (Please also visit the museum, it’s extremely cool!) Should they run out before the next print run is delivered, you will get a voucher which you can exchange for a book when they come in. Mail order is technically possible, but they have limited staff, so be patient.

Cambridge is dead to me; can I go somewhere else?

The Children’s Bookshop in Muswell Hill and Ink@84 Books in Highbury are our partner bookshops in London. At the moment of writing, I don’t believe they have any copies in stock, but they are filling online orders as soon as a rogue copy appears. If you place an online order then you will be prioritised when the new shipment arrives, and if you’re going to be in London you can probably arrange to collect your book rather than have it shipped.

Why privilege the Southeast?

Because we’re still waiting to get processed into the catalogue of the main book wholesaler in the UK. One we’re in with them, any shop in the country can order copies, as well as places like hive.co.uk and bookshop.org where you get Amazon-like service while supporting high street booksellers. The places selling Worst Journey now are places with which either I or Indie Novella have existing relationships, and by necessity we both live in the Southeast. If you’d like your local bookshop to stock Worst Journey, why not put them in touch with Indie Novella and see if they can’t order a few copies? Not right now, because there aren’t any, but when we get some more.

So what’s this about a second print run, then?

We ordered 2000 more copies on Tuesday! They’re expected to be delivered on 20 December. I acknowledge that this is very, very close to Christmas. It’s unlikely that your order will actually reach you before Christmas Day, if you’re having it shipped, even if you’re in the UK. But it will arrive not long after. We’re really scraping in under the wire for getting it before Christmas at all, but it can only happen because the book gets printed in Norwich rather than China. You’d be waiting upwards of six weeks otherwise! Hurrah for local businesses.

Can I get a signed copy from you?

One of the reasons I partnered with a publisher, instead of self-publishing like the cool kids, is so that they could handle the commerce while I got on with making Vol.2. At the moment there are no copies to sign; when we get some more, I will be signing more for The Children’s Bookshop and will be having events at Ink@84 and Jam Bookshop (details TBD). You will be able to order signed copies from them. I have also left a number of signed copies at The Polar Museum (see above). If you’ve already ordered a copy and you want it signed, please bring it to one of the events! I am really looking forward to signing a loved copy of the book.

I’m not in the UK; do I have any hope at all?

Yes! Indie Novella, The Children’s Bookshop, and Ink@84 Books all ship overseas. It’s expensive, but it’s a flat rate, so you’re better off clubbing together with other people who want copies and splitting the cost.

If you’re in the EU, don’t mind waiting a bit, and are OK with getting the book in German, you’re in luck! A super deluxe German edition will be on sale most likely in the spring. Other languages may happen if it does well enough.

Elsewhere, our long-term plan is to partner with small presses in different countries to distribute the book locally. If your country has an independent publisher who you think would be a good match for Worst Journey, please let us know via the form on the Contact page! It always helps to have a personal recommendation.

I’m a bookseller abroad and I don’t want to wait for you to find a distributor in my country. Can I order some books directly?

Yes; get in touch with Indie Novella and they will be able to sort you out. At the moment we are limited by having no stock, and when we do get stock we will need to prioritise existing orders, but the backlog will clear eventually and we’d love to get you some books.

If you have a further question, please do not hesitate to use the Contact page to ask it!

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[tutuandscoot]

Ok so firstly.. it’s so sweet and humble of them to acknowledge their incredible achievements and insane records they hold, personally I’m sure it means a lot to them but they certainly had and do have the mindset that those medals and records aren’t everything and it’s what they did for each other- the experiences they shared and what they built together that mean the absolute most- this was soooooo much more than a sport to them.

For T to say to S that she believes he’ll be coaching some team that blows all their records out of the water is a huge complement to him and I know she believes he will change this sport for the better, and that coming from her who he sees on just this completely unreachable pedestal, it must be hard for him coz frankly he said no one will be as great as her and he has to remind himself of that when he’s working with teams ‘I can’t expect these girls to be TV’. 🥲

BUT…

For the sake of it.. let’s explore the possibility for a team- from any country to break TS Olympic medal tally record:

Remember: their record is 🥇🥇🥇🥈🥈

That’s over 3 Olympics.

The first one was from Vancouver: 1x🥇.There was no team event at this point.

Next was Sochi: 2x🥈🥈 the first year the team event was held.

And finally Pyeonchang: 2x 🥇🥇. Gold in the team, gold individually.

So to break TS record a team would need to achieve any of the following combinations (once you get into 6+ medals the colour is interchangeable as long as least 3 are gold and at least two are silver).

🥇🥇🥇🥇🥇

🥇🥇🥇🥇🥈

🥇🥇🥇🥇🥇🥇

🥇🥇🥇🥇🥇🥈

🥇🥇🥇🥇🥈🥈

🥇🥇🥇🥈🥈🥈

🥇🥇🥇🥈🥈🥉

So: a team needs to win AT LEAST 3 gold: that could come either individually or in team event. Individually seems the most likely, however with the rate that the sport is changing, over 8 years, and don’t forget ageing/ teams splitting up/ politics/ judging… there’s a chance.. but not a huge one. Really the only team who came close to this was.. drum roll please 🥁 VIRTUEMOIR. The team event scenario is less likely. This requires there to be a STRONG AF national figure skating team across the board- all disciplines averaging essentially top 5 finishes consistently over 8 years.. so if you look at the state of Canadian figure skating right now, heck just look at the 2022 olys.. that country in particular needs to completely rebuild their national team. And frankly, VM’s era really was a golden age across the board in Canadian figure skating.. multiple times world champions in dance, mens and pairs, world medalists in ladies and WC winner at the worlds directly after the Olympics. There haven’t been any world medalist from Canada after the 17/18 season (that I can think of, GP got a bronze in 2021). This team situation goes for the USA as well, but they are in better shape, a lot of ‘great’ skaters retired after either 2018 and 2022, and as a team they are yet to win gold (still don’t know what’s happening with medals from Beijing) and then Russia I’m not gonna bother talking about coz you know.. they’re currently committing war crimes..

These 5+ medals will of course need to come from both success in the team and individual events- because an even more unlikely scenario is an ID team attending 5 Olympics and winning either 5 gold or 4gold and a silver in either event.

So, those are the broadest examples, and really everything after that are just derivatives from those scenarios.

A “possible” instance for eg: is 6 medals across 3 games: 3 gold coming from a combination of the IE and TE, let’s say 2 individual gold and 1 team gold (same as VM), two silvers- one from the team and one individually (same as VM) and lastly either another silver or bronze from another team event..

For the reasons pointed out above.. that is possible.. but a long shot because it depends not only as a single ice dance team’s success, by the strength of the national team as a whole, and again removing Russia from the equation, coz they have always been strong but also.. doping, the Canadian team in 2018 was somewhat of a unicorn, and they just happened to have strong af skaters in every category- all of which medaled individually in 2018 or had medaled previously (Patrick in 2014) (+Gabi who didn’t medal but was still a world medalist). Individually it will require a team to essentially be.. really top 3 in the world over 8+ years, and or mount an iconic comeback.

The most recent ID winners did not compete in the team event at either olys (18/22) and their team won’t ever be a team medal contender (in the near future anyway) so they have no chance of beating VM’s oly medal record.

So with that mostly covered.. let’s move onto some of their other records.

Let’s examine their reign as the youngest ever oly champs:

They were 20+22 when they won in YVR. I do not watch ID religiously so I don’t know every team or exact ages, but everyone currently competing and even attended the previous olys are already past VM’s age record- all the medalists in Beijing were in their mid- late 20’s/early 30’s, and the next crop behind them- the next 10 teams let’s say, were all well into their 20’s, so at the next olys it would have to be a new team, probably currently in juniors. Now I’m even more uneducated on the Junior Circuit, but I believe the majority of those teams, even if they were to rise above the level of seniors now, wouldn’t age wise be able to cut in under VM.

And a note on that as well, the ID landscape has shifted since VM.. they were an anomaly. They shouldn’t have won when they were that young but they did. An odd sequence of events- the change in the judging system and therefore the athleticism of the sport started to favour younger teams, but now that isn’t so much the case and the younger teams have grown up with this new system and are now older, and are just as athletically capable as the younger ones, but also have the maturity to service the artistry side.

So probably at least in the next several Olympics that record seems pretty out of reach.

Winning at a home games:

(This won’t be breaking a record but only being the second to do it).

This really just depends on luck of the draw. The olys are decided 8+ years out so there’s no way a team 10 years away can guarantee a win that far in the future. The Vancouver olys were announced in 2001 and at that time VM were 12+14- hadn’t moved away from home yet, we’re still growing, no injuries, anything could of happened but as we all know it just worked for them (and they worked for it) so the stars just kinda aligned on that one.

Winning an olys before a worlds title:

(Again will be second to do so).

This is probably the most attainable, but really the least significant, esp since VM have already done it, and it can only happen once coz once you win them both you can’t do that again.

Finally let’s look at the Super Career Grand Slam (my personal point of pride for my dancing bbys):

On the surface this seems possible, but when you think about it..

A team has to first win both the JGPF and Junior worlds, this achievement is very possible, but they then have to first; stay together (if teams split it is often between juniors and seniors) now they can achieve the SCGS with separate partners- but to be second after VM they need to stay together. They then need to win either 4CC or Euros, the GPF, World champs AND the Olympics. That last one is understandably the most likely place to fall flat because they only have once chance every 4 years. The olys and the junior titles are the most critical pieces to complete to gain this title. DW couldn’t do it because they didn’t get the junior titles, PC couldn’t do it because they didn’t get the junior titles. It requires a sustained and gaining excellence across both circuits and about 10-15 years of reign at or near the top.

That’s where VM stand out against everyone else.

There are of course numerous other records regarding points which will easily be broken coz the rules get changed every year, and number of national titles- which they don’t even hold, but ALL OF THE ABOVE… it will take a team with sustained, decades long greatness in a single partnership with the right chain of events and strength of the sport as a whole to top them. It’s a subjective sport so of course people will develop new favourites.. but what’s on the record on paper.. well there’s a reason there’s an acronym for it:

GOATs.

I rest my case.

[skippyv20]

Long post..harry palace and Nigeria

Folks here are up in arms about how they have been received in Nigeria.

Well, the problem lies with the rf. After all the despicable duos have done, they are still embraced, brought to major events like the jubilee, coronation, etc, listed on the rf website, and immediately bowed down to h and m after declared their children prince and princess bh updating their website,  that you could hear the groan round the world.

Harry comes to the invictus 10th yr anniversary, and you have the ministers or whatever they are called waiting for him at the entrance and still treating him like royalty. Well, h is entitled.

If the royal family still treats h and m as royalty and their children are still listed on the website, how else do you expect the world to follow?

The UK defence budget earmarked approx 27 million for invictus, still with Harry in charge? What kind of message does that send?

A lot of these problems would have been dealt with when the queen was alive and they were defiant by stating no one owns the word royal, and other nonsense proclamations, when they were leaks coming out and defamation against Kate and William, when they did the Netflix doc, Oprah, couldn’t even respect Prince Phillip on his sick bed, then the book, and then more interviews, defiantly giving their children titles whether they are entitled or not, and the rf, humbly bowing down and acknowledging it.

I can go on and on, but the rf caused this lack of respect. I haven’t seen this lack of respect in any other rf round the world, and then that rf turning the other cheek and expect to be respected, when they have the powers to nip this nonsense. It makes them look weak.

The BRF is the head of state of the British country. I don’t think they understand what that means today.

If the king receives Harry and the UK govt gives 27 million for the invictus, why should Nigeria not receive the prince who is in charge?

Less, I forget, I have read all kinds of disparaging comments about Nigeria from being corrupt, to religious intolerance, and all kinds of nonsense they read in the Press to bring it down.

If the George Floyd riots don’t define America, why should riots in Nigeria define them?

Every country in the world has problems…corruption is everywhere.  Religious intolerance is everywhere.  We can’t speak on Nigeria when we can’t solve our own problems.  This isn’t about Nigeria.  Any mention of Nigeria is in relation to Harry and his wife…their actions!  It is very disappointing that this mess is being allowed….😔❤️

[saphena-magna]

Swear it's the best that I ever had. And I think that I got it bad. I could wait for a call back, so long, enough for you to play those songs a million times.

Walking home I meet us in many different places. First it’s outside the church, awkwardly dressed in a quilt jacket far too warm for late July. Jumping into your arms, sliding mine down your back transitioning into intertwined fingers. Side by side until you let go and I see myself a couple of blocks away, pacing back and forth in a wide space in front of a closed gate, a few houses next to where we had a birthday party and you didn’t come (you didn’t want to come). I’m crying like an elder daughter, desperately trying to poise myself, my mother on the phone. Always taking your side, always have taken the boys' side, until I say that I feel as if I don’t exist, you slowly slipping away, begging for you to even acknowledge me. She changes her mind. ”Of course, sweetheart. You can’t be with someone who won’t see the fantastic things about you. Maybe he just got worried, knowing he can’t keep up with all of that?”

I keep walking. Religiously stalking your last-listened-to, looking for a message within the lyrics, the general themes, until I realize that maybe they’re about your ex. I’m terrified of finding out who she is because regardless of race (also from a Balkan country? Maybe Asian? Maybe an Elin?) or height (like you? A head below me?) or worst of all, body type (curvier? Skinny? Muscular? Soft?) it will crush me. I already know she’s my opposite and I know what it means. I’ve walked downhill to the ledge where you climbed straight up, back muscles ripping through your dumb navy blue t-shirt, a real life spider man in front of a bootleg child-like Mary Jane in awe. I gave it a go. You pulled me up, and at the top, you pulled me in, and kissed me. In my memory you forbade me to ever do that again because you could not live with even the idea of me getting hurt. I shiver at the sight. It’s a ball drop from my chest sinking down my stomach. It’s a gravitational force. Yesterday, the same route home from the same job where we met, where I thought there was no chance I have to keep away I bet he breaks five hearts at once in any given second walking around looking like that anyway he’s probably really shallow and stupid and vapid with terrible manners and - then you bought me ice cream. And then you wrote down my list of red flags ”just to be sure, they might come in handy”. Then you brought me a jacket when I said I was cold. Then you pulled out my chair. Then you pinned me up against the back of the staff room door, the only place without camera surveillance. Then, there was no going back. Anyway - at the same ledge I had to stop in my track because contrary to the expected course of events the knife stabs are getting deeper, neither fewer nor less well-aimed. Only forceful nostalgia at work these days, with the former anger having left me without shield from it.

Over the bridge unto the built-in steps where I listened to Tove Lo so loud my ears hurt. I remember thinking ”this might be the last time I am walking home to him” and as if the thought was a hive of summer flies I hurried down the stairs as if to dismiss the realization of that I was… yeah. That’s the thing. What was I really doing? I convinced myself I was breaking up with you but it was all very meta in the sense that I knew I was convincing myself that, i.e. that it wasn’t true, I was just telling myself that so that I could survive it, because I thought I knew that the reality of it all was that you were leaving me and I was just in a hurry trying to mold reality into a scenario quickly, quickly, that I could live with. A scenario in which I didn’t have to realize I was the rebound, I was the ugly girl who was dumb and ridiculous enough to ever have thought I had a chance, I was the one fooled and ripped off and laughed at.

I hurry down the steps tonight one more time, like I will be doing a hundred times again, but never again to you leaning against my door frame with your bent smile and bangs falling down before your eyes meeting mine when I finally arrive.

[blackstarising]

coming back to this post i made again to elaborate - especially as the ted lasso fandom is discussing sam/rebecca and fandom racism in general. there are takes that are important to make that i had failed to previously, but there's also a growing amount of takes that i have to, As A Black Person™, respectfully disagree with.

tl;dr for the essay below sam being infantilized and the sam/rebecca relationship are not the same issue and discussing the former one doesn't mean excusing the latter. and we've reached the glen of the Dark Forest where we sit down and talk about fandom racism.

i should have elaborated this in my last post about sam/rebecca, but i didn't. i'll say it now - i personally don't support sam and rebecca getting together for real. i believe what people are saying is entirely correct, even though sam is an adult legally, he and rebecca are, at the very least, two wildly different stages of life. for americans, he's at the equivalent of being a junior in college. there are things he hasn't gotten the chance to experience and there are areas he needs to grow in. when i was younger, i didn't understand the significance of these age gaps, i just thought it would be fine if it was legal, but as someone who is now a little older than sam in universe, i understand fully. we can't downplay this. whether or not you think sam works for rebecca or not, even despite the gender inversion of the Older Man Younger Woman trope, whether or not he is a legal adult, i don't think at this point in time, their relationship would work. i think it's an interesting narrative device, but i don't want to see it play out in reality.

that being said!

what's worrying me is that two discussions are being conflated here that shouldn't be. sam having agency and being a little more grown™ than he's perceived to be does not suddenly make his relationship with rebecca justified. i had decided to bring it up because sam was being brought into the spotlight again and i was starting to realizing that his infantilization was more common than i felt comfortable with.

sam's infantilization (and i will continue to call it that), is a microaggression. it's is in the range of microaggressions that i would categorize as 'fandom overcompensation'. we have a prominent character of color that exhibits traits that aren't stereotypical, and we don't want to appear racist or stereotypical, so we lean hard in the other direction. they're not aggressive, they're a Sweet Baby, they're not world weary, they're now a little naive. they're not cold and distant, they're so nice and sweet that there's no one that wouldn't want approach them, and yeah, on their face, these new traits are a departure and, on their face, they seem they look really good.

but at a certain point, it reaches an inflection point, and, like the aftertaste of a diet coke, that alleged sweetness veers into something a lot less sweet. it veers into a lack of agency for the character. it veers into an innocence that appears to indicate that the person can't even take care of themselves. it veers into a one-dimensional characterization that doesn't allow for any depth or negative emotion.

it's not kind anymore. it's not a nice departure from negative stereotypes. it's not compensating for anything.

it's patronizing.

it is important that we emphasize that characters of color are more than the toxic stereotypes we lay on them, yes, but we make a mistake in thinking that the solution is overcorrection. for one thing, people of color can usually tell. don't get it twisted, it's actually pretty obvious. for another, it just shifts from one dimension to another. people of color are still supposed to be Only One Character Trait while white people can contain multitudes. ted, who is pretty much as pollyanna as they come, can be at once innocent and naive and deep and troubled and funny and scared. jamie can be a prick and sexy and also lonely and also a victim of abuse. sam, however, even though he was bullied (by jamie, no less), is thousands of miles away from home, and has led a protest on his team, is usually just characterized as human sunshine with much less acknowledgement of any other traits beyond that.

and that's why i cringe when fandom calls sam a Sweet Baby Boy without any sense of irony. is that all we're taking away? after all this time? even for a comedy, sam has received a substantive of screen time over two whole seasons, and we've seen a range of emotions from him. so as a black person it's hurtful that it's boiled down to Sweet Baby Boy.

that's the problem. we need to subvert stereotypes, but more importantly, we need to understand that people of color are not props, or pieces of cardboard for their white counterparts. they are full and actualized and have agency in their own right and they can have other emotions than Angry and Mean or Sweet and Bubbly without any nuance between the two. i think the show actually does a relatively good job of giving sam depth (relatively, always room for improvement, mind you), especially holding it in tension with his youth, but the fandom, i worry, does not.

it's the same reason why finn from star wars started out as the next male protagonist in the sequel trilogy but by the third movie was just running around yelling for REY!! it's the same reason why when people make Phase 4 Is the Phase For Therapy gifsets for the mcu and show wanda maximoff, loki, and bucky barnes crying and being sad but purposefully exclude sam wilson who had an entire show to tell us how difficult his life is, because people find out if pee oh sees are also complex, they'll tell the church.

and the reason why i picked up on this very early on is because i am an organic, certified fresh, 100% homegrown, non-gmo, a little ashy, indigenous sub saharan African black person. the ghanaian tribes i'm descended from have told me so, my black ass parents have told me so, and the nurses at the hospital in [insert asian country here] that started freaking out about how curly my hair was as my mother was mid pushing me out told me so!

and this stuff has real life implications. listen: being patronized as a black person sucks. do you know how many times i was patted on the back for doing quite honestly, the bare minimum in school? do you know how many times i was told how 'well spoken' or 'eloquent' i was because i just happen to have a white accent or use three syllable words? do you know how many times i've been cooed over by white women who couldn't get over how sweet i was just because i wasn't confrontational or rude like they wrongly expected me to be?

that's why they're called microaggressions. it's not a cross on your lawn or having the n-word spat in your face, but it cuts you down little by little until you're completely drained.

so that's the nuance. that's the subversion. the overcompensation is not a good thing. and people of color (and i suspect, even white people) have picked up on, in general, the different ways fandom treats sam and dani and even nate. what all of these discussions are converging on is fandom racism, which is not the diet form of racism, but another place for racism to reveal itself. and yeah, it's uncomfortable. it can seem out of left field. you may want to defend yourself. you may want to explain it away. but let me tap the sign on the proverbial bus:

if you are a white person, or a person of color who is not part of that racial group, even, you do not get to decide what is not racist for someone. full stop. there are no exceptions. there is no exit clause for you. there is no 'but, actually-'. that right wasn't even yours to cede or waive.

(it's also important to note that people of color also have the right to disagree on whether something is racist, but that doesn't necessarily negate the racism - it just means there's more to discuss and they can still leave with different interpretations)

people don't just whip out accusations of racism like a blue eyes white dragon in a yu-gi-oh duel. it's not fun for us. it's not something we like to do to muzzle people we don't want to engage with. and we're not concerned with making someone feel bad or ashamed. we're exposing something painful that we have to live with and, even worse, process literally everything we experience through. we can't turn it off. we can't be 'less sensitive' or 'less nitpicky'. we are literally the primary resources, we are the proverbial wikipedia articles with 3,000 sources when it comes to racism. who else would know more than us?

what 2020 has shown us very clearly is that racism is systemic. it's not always a bunch of Evil White Men rubbing their hands together in a dark room wondering how they're going to use the 'n-word' today. it's systemic. it's the way you call that one neighborhood 'sketchy'. it's how you use 'ratchet' and 'ghetto' when describing something bad. it's how you implicitly the assume the intelligence of your friend of color. it's the way you turned up your nose and your friend's food and bullied them for it in middle school but go to restaurants run by white people who have 'uplifted' it with inauthentic ingredients. it's telling someone how Well Spoken and Eloquent they are even though you've both gone to the same schools and work at the same workplace. it's the way you look down at some people of color for having a different body type than you because they've been redlined to neighborhoods where certain foods and resources are inaccessible, and yet mock up the racial features that appeal to you either through makeup or plastic surgery.

it's how when a person of color behaves badly, they're irredeemable, but a white person performing the same act or something similar is 'having a bad day' or 'isn't normally like this' or 'has room to grow' and we can't 'wait for their redemption arc', and yes, i'm not going to cover it in detail in this post but yes this is very much about nate. other people have also brought up the nuances in his arc and compared them to other white characters so i won't do it here.

these behaviors and reactions aren't planned. they aren't orchestrated. they're quite literally unconscious because they've been lovingly baked into western society for centuries. you can't wake up and be rid of it. whether you intended it or not, it can still be racist.

and it's actually quite hurtful and unfair to imply that concerns about racism in the TL fandom are unfounded or lacking any depth or simply meant to be sensational because you simply don't agree with it. i wish it was different, but it doesn't work that way. i'm not raising this up to 'call out' or shame people, but i'm adding to this discussion because, through how we talk about sam, and even dani and nate, i'm yet again seeing a pattern that has shortchanged people of color and made them feel unwelcome in fandom for far too long.

coach beard said it best: we need to do better.

[cazimagines]

Perfectly Exasperating - Chapter 3

Synopsis: While you have been unknowingly kidnapped Zemo is determined to make the time he spends with you the best that he can

Word count: 5.4k

Author’s note: Hey all! This is sorta a one-month celebration of my account and for all the love you guys have shown this series and my other series 'A Freudian Slip' I can't thank you enough! My editing program decided to screw me over though so if you can see a difference grammatically in the first half and the second half that's why

Masterlist

(Please check out my master list to see what I will be writing next and if requests are open or closed)

Cross-posted to ao3 under the same username

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4

Your eyes slowly flutter open as the warmth from the sun shining through the curtains touching your skin waking you up. Yawning and stretching, feeling the soft duvet move on top of you, you sighed in content, closing your eyes again as you embraced the happiness which had been foreign to you for so long. You reach out to seize the end of the duvet and gradually slide out of the bed; you feel the slight chill of the morning breeze brush against your exposed legs. Crossing over to the wardrobe your hand reaches out to flick through the many dresses, shirts, trousers that hung in there, all belonging to shops such as Gucci, Prada, Valentino. There were clothes appropriate for any event, but today you choose comfortably as you pull out a maroon knitted sweater and dark blue jeans. Though appearing to be rather cheap clothes, you knew Zemo would never have spent less than $100 on them.

When Zemo said he would take care of you, he meant it in every aspect. It was a culture shock going from the relatively poor life you lived, surviving off the small amount of money they paid you for being an Avenger to being treated like royalty by Zemo. Not that you were complaining. It was a guilty pleasure of yours enjoying this luxury, a part of you hoping it would never end. If you had told yourself just a few weeks ago, you would have enjoyed living with Zemo you would have laughed in your face but that man had certainly turned on the charm and you couldn’t help but feel the slightest big thankful for him for everything he has done for you.

You finally leave the confines of your room, something you had only been allowed to do a few times until today. You convinced Zemo yesterday that you weren’t concussed from when John had hit you with the shield and that you would be fine getting up and walking around. He was still hesitant but knew he couldn’t keep you confined in your bed forever.

You close your eyes as you inhale the sweet smell of cooking pancakes, making your stomach grumble greedily. Following the scent, you work your way down through the interior design living room into the lavish kitchen where Zemo currently had his back turned to you as he attempted to flip the pancake he had in the frying pan. His purple turtleneck sleeves were pulled up, exposing his forearms as they tensed, trying to get the timing right to flip the pancake. He does so with perfect accuracy, the golden brownness of the pancake soaring up into the air and landing back down in the frying pan, sizzling.

Zemo giggles to himself, celebrating his minor achievement as he waves the frying pan, his body swaying along slightly with it.

“That smells heavenly,”

Zemo whips around at hearing your voice pierce the air. “Ah y/n! Please, take a seat while I make breakfast,”

His eyes follow you as you take a seat down at the table he had prepared for this morning, then focus back on the breakfast at hand. You pour out some orange juice Zemo had left on the table, then your gaze flickers back to him as he finishes cooking. He stacks the pancakes onto two plates and grabs some sugar, maple syrup, and lemons out of the shelves, giving you a choice of toppings.

You scoff as he turns around, seeing on the apron he had tied around himself the words ‘kiss the chef’ on it.

“Really?” you ask, raising the glass to your lips as you watch him glance down to his apron and then back up to you offended.

“You don’t like?”

“It’s embarrassing to look at!” you exclaim as he places the plates down on the table and sits down opposite you.

Zemo’s eyebrows twitch as he scoffs back at you, “I think it suits me, plus a kiss is expected after I worked so hard on breakfast” he says, tapping his cheek with his finger.

You raise an eyebrow, letting a breath out as you laugh, “Yeah, in your dreams,”

You two settle into a comfortable silence as you readily eat the breakfast he made. The pancakes were soft but delicious, sickeningly sweet but you have always had a sweet tooth and so it seems, does Zemo.

“I thought you would have one of your staff make breakfast, you never struck me as the person to do something yourself when you can make others do it,” you say breaking the silence as you finish the last of your pancakes.

Zemo glances up to you, tilting his head, “Why do you think that? Because I grew up rich?”

You nod, not attempting to make yourself sound nicer, “Yes. It’s common knowledge the rich are always spoilt”

His lips twitch up into a smile at your bluntness. He sighs, leaning back in his chair, crossing his legs as he addresses you.

“You’re right. Even though Sokovia was a rather small country, I grew up with more riches than most people could dream of. But at least I acknowledge my privilege. That counts for something, doesn’t it?”

“Depending on what you use your privilege for. Blowing up the UN isn’t exactly putting it to good use now stop avoiding my original question,”

Zemo bites the inside of his mouth as you see through his attempts at trying to dodge the question. His admiration for you however outweighed any annoyance he might have felt at being called out for it. Leaning forward again to rest his arms on the table he says,

“It’s only me, you and my Butler who occasionally comes in. After I was arrested, there was no work for my staff so they all left and I can’t exactly hire anyone else,”

You nod, satisfied, then dab the napkin that Zemo has set out beside you, on your lips to get rid of any leftover sugar. You place your hands on the table and push yourself up from it.

“Well, thank you for breakfast, and thank you for looking after me this last week… that was nice of you, but I better be going. Do you know where my phone is?”

Zemo’s eyes furrow and he immediately stands up as you walk away from the table. He rushes past you, stepping in front of you to stop you from walking.

“You can’t leave y/n,”

Your head jilts back in confusion, “Why not?”

“We ruined Karli’s plans, so she is trying to find us. That’s why Sam and James are out hiding and why we must remain here,”

“I can handle Karli,” you tell Zemo, trying to step past him, but his hand reaches out and grasps your arm firmly.

“Not a super-soldier y/n. It’s too dangerous, especially after your recovery. James and Sam will reach out to me once it is clear to leave, but for now, we stay.”

You huff in frustration, shaking Zemo’s hand off your arm as you cross them. “Well, at least get me a phone so I can keep in contact with them too,”

“I’m afraid I can’t get you a phone currently, but you are welcomed to use mine. Alas, James and Sam have my number but I don’t have theirs’s so unless you remember their numbers we have to wait till they message first to reach out to them,”

You let out a melodramatic sigh, rolling your head looking to the side of the room then back to Zemo.

“So what the hell am I to do to keep occupied?”

Zemo tilts his head, his eyes flicker to the side in thought as he opens his mouth wordlessly and his eyes move back to yours, his eyebrows raising as he frowns thinking over the idea that has just entered his head.

-

With his fingers, Zemo, gazing at you eagerly, beckoned you down the corridor, towards a giant door that was at the end.

“I’m not a dog Zemo” you complain as you follow him

“Have you ever heard of dramatic effect?”

Zemo had taken off his apron and replaced it with that coat he loved to wear so much. You firmly believed it gave him a power complex. He strutted to the end of the hallway and placed his hands on the door. His face turns to you smirking, enjoying this dramatic pause as you roll your eyes at him. He pushes the door open and stands to the side, sweeping his arm across the space to let you in.

You walk past him and your eyes widen in amazement as you walk into the most magnificent library you had ever seen. The room itself stretched out almost further than you could see, seeming to go on and on. The shelves looked like they reached up to the sky, each one stacked with thousands of beautiful hardback books. The design of it looked like you had just stepped into heaven, with white and gold being the main colour scheme. On the ceiling was a painted sky with the gods on, looking down at you. On the pillars separating the shelves were little cherubs, their bows positioned to pierce your heart. Everything about this library was beautiful. It felt like a library that should belong to a museum not kept in this private mansion.

“You see why the dramatic effect was necessary?” Zemo says stepping up beside you, looking out at the shelves before you.

“Zemo this is… this is beautiful,”

His eyes flicker to you then back to the library, a smile appearing on his lips, “Yes, I suppose it is. When I was younger, I had always taken things like this for granted, but after my time in prison I believe it’s made me more humble,”

You walk over to the nearest bookshelf, letting your fingers brush over the colourful hardbacks. You pull one book out, stroking the golden platted side. “You must have every practically every book in existence here”

“I have more books than I could ever get round to reading. You can find anything you want to read here,”

After ten minutes you had gathered a rather sizable book pile you were determined to read, full of fictional and non-fictional books, some of your favorites and some you had never read before.

Zemo chuckled as you tried to hold all of them in your grasp. As you picked one up, the book on the very top of your pile slipped and fell to the floor. Panic surged in you, worried you would damage something so expensive, but Zemo’s hand appears and catches it before it could hit the ground.

Straightening up, he gave you an amused smile, “Maybe you should let me help carry them”

Accepting his help, he takes half the book pile off you and guides you over to a place deep in the library where you two could read. There were two light green armchairs facing each other, with a fireplace just behind them. To the side of the chairs were small tables which contained bookmarks, a goblet, and an ashtray, and to the side of one chair was a globe which could be opened, and inside it held a decanter full of whiskey.

Zemo places the books in his arms on the table then walks over to one shelf, browsing till he finally finds the book he was looking for. He returns to find you getting comfortable in your chair, opening the first book.

“Whisky?” he asks, opening up the globe beside him.

A few days ago you would have said ‘no, no way,’ but today you smile and nod your head, reaching out with the glass beside you to gracefully accept the drink.

-

The next couple of days were spent similarly with you and Zemo spending much of your time reading in the library together. Occasionally you two would even read to each other as he had first done with you when you had woken up here. Though you would never admit it to him, his smokey voice made you very comfortable. If he tried, he could lull you to sleep with that accent of his.

You couldn’t help but try to separate the Zemo you know now as the one you used to hate. Yes, he had torn apart your family, but he had all the reason for what happened to Sokovia, what happened to his family. Plus, this Zemo seemed to try hard to make it up to you. Almost too hard. He was trying everything to keep you entertained while you were stuck here, make your life as comfortable as he could. It was nice.

You strolled into the kitchen hearing the quiet buzz of the radio playing the latest top hits and the sound of someone humming along to the music. In there you find Zemo by the counter, fixated on the bowl he held in his arm and the spoon in his hand as he delicately tries to put the mixture into the cupcake trays before him. You had offered to make food, feeling like he always did too much for you but every day he insisted he would, even on days where it Butler would come around.

“Need help?” you ask, walking over to stand beside him.

He glances at you, then back to the tray he has laid out before him. “I’ve got a handle on this,” he replies just as he spills some mixtures onto the counter, making him swear under his breath.

“Uh-huh, sure,” you say, looking down at the spilled mixture. You turn to face him, letting out a chuff as you place a hand on his arm, “Zemo stop being so prideful and let me help”

As soon as your hand comes in contact with his arm, he freezes. He glances down at the ground, swallowing then his eyes flicker to yours and he smiles gently, his usual arrogance disappearing. “Okay,”

You grab a spoon from the draw and help Zemo scrap off what he puts into his spoon into the cake tray with accuracy. You two stand together, your shoulders brushing up against each other till you finish and put it into the oven.

“We have 30 minutes until we need to get them out. Why don’t you read for a bit while I clean up,”

“I can help clean up,” You tell him already going over to the sink to turn the water on, “You’re not my servant Zemo,”

“Helmut” he suddenly says

You turn back to look at him, confused at the seriousness of his face, “Please y/n, call me Helmut,”

Your mouth moves wordlessly for a moment, then you say, “Helmut,” trying the name out on your tongue. You were so used to calling him Zemo, you had forgotten that that wasn’t his first name.

“Thank you” he whispers, glancing away from you bashfully.

He takes a towel off the side of the rail and dries up everything you washed as you two settled into a peculiar silence.

Attempting to liven the atmosphere again, you put a cup just at the right angle of the running tap that the water splashed into Zemo’s coat. He steps back shocked, glancing down at his coat then back to you. He lets out a laugh, his mouth open in surprise that you would do that. “Oh, if that is how it is”

Zemo quickly grabs a mug, running it under the following water. Realizing what he was going to do you let out a squeal and rush for the door but you don’t get far enough till you feel the water hit your back, soaking your t-shirt.

“Helmut!” you gasp as he chuckles at you. You run forward to grab the nearest thing in front of you to chuck it at him, a piece of bread in this case but he ducks as it flies over him. He fills the cup up again and runs towards you but you get to the table and hide on the other side till you were both poised opposite each other waiting for one of you to make the first move.

“This isn’t fair!” you whine, feeling the coldness of your t-shirt cling to your back. “Who said anything about fairness!” Zemo shouted back, grinning at you.

Eventually, you two called a truce when the oven chimes letting you two know the cupcakes were finished baking. After that day, Zemo always asked if you wanted to help him make meals.

-

“Is the popcorn ready?” you shout as you jump up from the floor where you were placing the DVD into the DVD player.

“Almost done” Zemo calls out.

While waiting, you settle yourself down on the middle of the red sofa, twisting your back to get that perfect spot as you stared up at the giant screen in front of you.

Zemo emerges from the kitchen holding the popcorn and places the bowl onto the table in front of you. He settles down beside you, instantly positioning his arms on the top of the sofa, resting behind your head.

He leans forward to pick up some of the popcorn, tossing it in his mouth as he asks you what you have chosen to watch tonight.

“Beauty and the Beast,” you say excitingly and Zemo coughs, leaning forward as he accidentally inhaled the popcorn in his mouth.

He wipes the tear from his eye as he leans back and you give him a confused look, “Do you not like the film?”

“No-no, it’s not that. W-why do you want to watch the film?”

“It’s my favorite Disney film,”

He nods his head slightly looking down at the popcorn, “I see…” he then glances back to you, looking you in the eyes, “Why is it your favorite Disney film?”

You lean back sighing as you think the movie over, “Well, I’ve loved it since I was a kid. I always wanted to be like Bell and I found the beast so sweet and gentle”

“Even though he imprisoned her?”

“He let her go in the end, and she came back to him”

Zemo opened his mouth wanting to say more, but you sushed him as the movie started, wanting to concentrate only on it.

Zemo turned down the lights to make the experience feel as cinematic as he could of you. Grabbing the bowel he offered you some of the popcorn and you smiled at him in thanks. He tried to enjoy the movie, but his eyes kept wandering back to you, watching your expressions as you watched the movie. His heart skipped a beat every time you laughed at it when that gorgeous smile would grace your face, even in the sad moments where it looked like you were about to cry. He loved seeing how you reacted to everything. There were so many things he had taken for granted, and it felt like he was discovering them all over again with you. It fascinated him to find out the beauty and the beast was your favorite film. It was almost ironic given your current situation, one of which you remained painfully unaware of. He knew he couldn’t keep you in the dark forever. Sam and James were bound to discover where you two were eventually, which is why he wanted to enjoy every moment he had with you to the fullest before it was over.

As the movie went on, Zemo could feel your body moving closer and closer to him. The heat that radiated from your body made him want to wrap his arms around you, but he didn’t know if that would go too far. Roughly by the end of the movie, your head rested against his chest, moving slightly up and down as he breathed. He could tell by your shallow breathing you had entered the realm of dreams.

Looking down at you, he couldn’t help but admire how peaceful you looked. When on the mission with Sam and James you had always appeared tense, prepared to fight your way out of a situation as soon as possible, but at this moment you were relaxed and it made his heart flutter. He could look at you forever like this and never tire of it.

He had found himself in the past comparing you to his wife. He felt conflicted feeling this way about another woman, but how he felt about you differed from how he felt about his wife. It was new, exciting, addicting. Slowly raising his hand, he brushes a piece of hair that had fallen over your face while you slept. Your skin was smooth against his fingers and so soft. His fingers lingered on your skin before finally, he let his arm rest around your body, holding you close as you slept against his chest.

-

Your arms were raised, feeling the walls on either side of you as you tried to figure out if you were going and if you were about to bump into anything while Zemo’s hands were clasped around your eyes tightly.

“Don’t you trust me y/n” he whispers in your year, snickering.

“Do you want a pleasant lie or the harsh truth?” you ask, turning your head slightly but Zemo tuts and moves your head back with his hands

“Not long now, just a few more steps,”

“Till what!” you whine

“Be patient y/n!”

Zemo lifts one hand of your eyes telling you to keep them close and you hear the creak of a door open ahead of you. His hand returns to your face and with slightly pushing his body against yours, he urges you forward into this new room.

“Can I finally look now?”

Zemo removes his hands and steps back from you, “Okay y/n, open your eyes”

Opening them you gasped in shock seeing what was before you. On a stand was a replica of Belle’s dress in Beauty and the Beast. Its honey yellow colour shone out, the top of it tightly clung to the mannequin it was on while the bottom poofed out, it hung with no shoulder straps and came with yellow gloves. Everything about it was perfect.

“Helmut I- I’m, stunned,”

“You like it?” he asks anxiously

You turn to him grinning, “Of course I do!”

You hug him tightly, ecstatic, then rushed over to the dress, brushing your fingers along it. “It’s beautiful” you whisper.

“I think I got the sizes right,” Zemo says coming up beside you, a pink tinge to his cheeks, “There’s only one way to know for you,” he adds on, turning to you giving you a gentle smile

He helps you take the dress off and chuckles as he watches you rush off with it to get changed, then leaves to get changed himself.

The dress fitted perfectly on you. Everything from the bust down to the waist. Even the gloves fitted perfectly. When you entered the bathroom, you found Zemo had even found some make-up in case you wanted to use any. He thought of everything.

Finally looking at yourself in the mirror, you couldn’t wipe the smile off your face. You truly felt like a Disney princess. Slowly you walked back down the stairs and enter the room Zemo had to lead you in, to begin with. As you walked in, let out a merry laugh as you saw Zemo, dressed up in a blue jacket, embroidered with yellow roses on the sleeves, just like the beast. He was standing by a record player, putting a disk in as you walked in. He turns to look at you, his mouth opening in wonder.

“Y/n… you look glorious,”

His sincere comment makes your cheeks heat up and you hold your arms out to him, squeezing your hands letting him know you want to hold his hands.

He turns the record on and your favorite song from Beauty and the Beast floats out, making your cells light up with excitement.

“Helmut” you start to say as he walks over to you, holding his hand out, “Why are you doing this?”

He gently takes your gloved hand, bending over to kiss it. “I know it isn’t easy being stuck in here all the time and you said you loved ‘Beauty and the Beast’ so I thought it would make a pleasant treat,”

His arms hesitantly touch your waist as he looks into your eyes as if asking it was okay. You nod and step closer to him, taking his hand in yours holding it up. Getting into the waltz position you two start to move along the dance floor, swaying to the music.

You two slide along the ballroom floor, picking up speed. As you look up to him, he breathes out smiling back down at you happily. His hand on his waist spins your around as your dress flutters out. You squeal in delight as you grasp back onto his hand as you felt dizzy.

You two turn around the floor looking each other deep in the eyes. You could feel his breath on your face as you two were barely inches apart from each other. Zemo pulls you in even closer as your arm goes around his neck, your body pulled into his. He dips you as you cling to him tightly for dear life as the music fades.

He holds you into that position, panting as he looks at you, his eyes flickering from your eyes to your lips. You could feel that pull towards him, your eyes starting to flutter shut. He leans towards you but suddenly you feel your fingers slip and you almost let go of him. His other hand quickly wraps around making sure you don’t fall to the floor.

He helps you back on your feet and you two steps apart. You look away feeling your cheeks burn up again.

“Helmut, thank you. Thank you so much” you tell him earnestly

He looks deep into your eyes, smiling in bliss, “Anything for you y/n”

-

“Y/n, are you awake?”

You groan as you hear Zemo whisper beside you, waking you from your sleep.

“Ugh, Helmut what time is it,” you moan turning over with your eyes are closed.

“It’s 8, time to wake up”

“Nooooo” you whine screwing up your eyelids.

You hear him chuckle and then you feel something push against your lips. You open your eyes confused to see Zemo beside you, holding a strawberry to your lips.

You smile and take a bite out of it, moaning in delight as you taste its sweetness as you sit up. He sits up beside you and holds out some melted chocolate for you to dip the strawberry in.

“Helmut, you spoil me”

“Not enough,” he whispers back as he puts the chocolate-covered strawberry to your lips letting you take another bite.

“I’m not even surprised anymore to see you in my bed when I wake up,” you tell him

“Technically this is my bed”

“You know what I mean!”

He chuckles as he pushes his head back into the headboard, “I thought it would be a nice way for you to wake up,”

“Consider me impressed,” you tell him, looking over at him smiling. He glances back to you, his lips twitching up. You lean into his side, not caring at the moment you were in a simple nightdress. You close your eyes inhaling his cologne and picking up a strawberry to feed to him.

“I could get used to this,” you whisper to him

-

You scan the piano music book before looking back down to the notes before you. It had been a while since you had last played so you thought you might as well pick it up while you were stuck in Zemo’s mansion.

You press the notes but every time you tried to play one of the chords you always missed one. You were trying to play your favorite song 'Comptine d'un autre été' but to no avail.

“You need to flow with the music and not worry about hitting the right notes”

You turn around and smile as you see Zemo approach you from behind. “Isn’t the whole point of music to play the right notes?” you say sarcastically

Zemo lets out a huff chuckling, “Well yes but you’ll hit the notes when you stop trying so hard. Now try again”

You turn back around and attempt the music again but hit the wrong notes making you slam the piano in annoyance.

“Don’t damage the piano”

“I’m sorry,” you mutter, “I should give up,”

“No don’t do that” Zemo says, brushing his fingers over your waist, “Here let me help you”

He puts his hands on top of yours guiding them, “Let’s try again,”

You look to the music then back down to your hands which had Zemo’s resting on and attempt to start playing again. His hands moved in time with yours as they guided along with the piano, pressing down on your fingers when you needed to. You got every note. Well, Zemo got every note.

“See, easy,” he says as he pulls back from you. “Now try again”

You attempt to play again but feeling his eyes stare into your back you couldn’t concentrate and messed up the notes again.

“We just went through this!”

“It’s hard to concentrate with you staring at me!” you exclaim turning around to him. Your eyes widen as what you just said as he tilts his head, a smug smile appearing on his lips.

“Oh, I make it hard for you to concentrate do I?”

You groan at his cockiness, looking away from him so he doesn’t see your glistening red cheeks.

He walks up behind you again, his fingers grazing your jawline, stopping at your chin as he raises your head to look up at him. Seeing him look down at you made a knot in your stomach tighten.

“You are awfully red y/n”

“Shut up”

He chuckles and leans down, placing a kiss on your forehead, “I like it when you blush”

The breath gets caught in your lungs as you feel his lips on your forehead, their softness cooling your burning skin.

For the first time in your life, you were rendered speechless, by Helmut Zemo no less.

His teeth flash in his smile as he looks down at you, “Come let’s practice this again” he says, leaning over as his back pressed into yours, putting his hands back on top of yours.

-

“Zemo do you mind if I borrow your phone briefly to see if that new video has been released?” you call out picking up Zemo’s phone that he had left on your seat.

“Go ahead! Just don’t check anything else on there” he yells back

“Worried I will find your nudes?” you call out as you unlock the phone. Pressing onto the youtube app you sigh in annoyance seeing no new video and so you were about to put the phone back down when a message appeared from a contact simply labeled ‘S’

It read, ‘S: Look just tell us where you have taken her. Whatever you are doing with her it isn’t worth it”

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion at what the hell could that message mean. You click onto the message stream just to see a ton of messages from this ‘S’ contact but with no reply from Zemo.

You hesitate for a moment, knowing Zemo wouldn’t want you to do what you were about to do, but your curiosity got the best of you and you pressed the call button.

It rang for a few seconds and then the line picked up.

“Zemo” Sam’s voice rang out through the phone

“Sam?” you ask back

“W-what, YN/!? Are you okay? Where are you?”

“Woah Woah Sam, calm down, I’m fine! I’m with Helmut-Sam what is going on?”

“What has he done to you?”

“What do you mean he's done nothing, Sam I thought me and Helmut were hiding out here till Karli was done with her plan?”

You hear a sigh down the phone and then the muffled voices of what you could make out as Bucky and Sharon down the line.

Sam picked the phone back up and spoke directly, “Y/n you need to get out of there now. Zemo, he's kidnapped you”

The phone slips from your hand and lands on the floor with a loud crash.

Tag list: @sinister-sleep @cable-kenobi @faustlyaccused @chipster-21 @icarusinstatic @yallgotkik @montypythonsholysnail @bunniwritesx @checkurwindow @huntheimpossible @jayxkelsi @avgravy @prestigious-tea @aloyssiac @hannahbal-the-fannibal @alainabooks143 @jokerprettyprincess @plumsandkiwis @latenightartist-author @e-barba @flutterskies @loonylunalovegood77 @lieutenantn @wonderwoman292 @there-goes-thefighter @multiyfandomgirl40 @freyjasamael @ineffablebean @arianalilyblack @mandowhatnow @scullys-alienpussy @felicityofbakerstreet @babayaga67 @spookycereal-s

[sneezefiction]

my turn

atsumu x reader

desc: you get a back massage from a gremlin your fiancé

a/n: @gahdam-beb hollz, thank you bunches for this cuteness! he absolutely would give good back massages. may or may not have gotten super carried away here – i meant for this to be like,, 200 words. not proofread & it’s all lowercase :,)

warnings: language, mentions marriage, mentions stabbing (i promise this entire fic is pure fluff though)

wc: 1.3k

—

so maybe the couch isn’t the best place to sprawl out on.

but you could hardly make it through the apartment door, much less all the way to your bedroom.

a leg dangles limply off the side of the worn-down sofa while the rest of your body merges with the cushion. the smell of pizza from last night’s takeout lingers on the soft material. an air conditioner unit whirs on and a chill streams across your skin, making your hairs stand on end.

unfortunately, all the throw blankets are either in the dryer or on your bed. and your fiancé? well, Atsumu is nowhere to be seen.

you sigh into a pillow.

it’s not every day you feel deprived of his presence. the blond is a lot to handle and he has a habit of bringing chaos with him wherever he goes, whether it’s a quick jaunt to the kitchen or across the country at a volleyball game.

but you can’t help but miss Atsumu, his chaos included. you’re quite endeared to him, actually.

i mean, there’s certainly a reason you’re wearing that silver engagement ring.

but right now it’s not just him that you’re missing. it’s those warm hands of his.

they tickle and prod and they’re not the softest things in the world... but they sure make for a back’s best friend. if you could wish for anything right now, it would be a back massage — for someone to rub and smooth away the tension of another long day.

but he’s not supposed to be back for another hour.

you shut your eyes, choosing to nap until he eventually walks through the door... but a tapping outside keeps your ears perked at attention.

the steps grow heavier in the corridor and, alongside that noise, your heart starts to thrumb louder too. you got off work early and your neighbors don’t typically come home til late... so you’re definitely not expecting anyone.

soon you realize the footsteps are just outside your door.

your heart jumps as the door clicks open and, from it, a rather refreshed-looking Atsumu emerges.

you thank the couch gods that it’s just him.

you would’ve rather been stabbed than defend yourself — you’re too tired to deal with that bullshit. but you’re glad that the universe hadn’t sealed your fate just yet.

“i’m home,” he calls, drawling out the words, “did ya miss me?”

you acknowledge him with a pitiful groan into the couch. it was an attempt at saying “yes” but even you aren’t sure of the unholy sound you just made.

“i don’t speak gremlin,” he chuckles.

you lift your head, shooting him a look.

“that’s unfortunate since you pretty much are one,” you say, dryly.

his jaw drops.

“i’m gonna tell ‘Samu you said that. we have the same face, y’know.”

okay, maybe you should be a little nicer if you want him to put his hands all over you... in a nonsexual way... at least for right now.

you don’t respond to him.

but that doesn’t stop him from talking.

“did somebody have a bad day?” his voice is high and he juts a lip out, taunting you.

you frown violently (if that’s at all possible). yes, he’s joking, but his face looks a fraction more slappable now.

“not particularly,” is your somewhat honest answer.

he shrugs off his jacket, the fabric tussling as he tosses it onto a wooden coat rack. there’s a clink of keys and the plop of a wallet on the countertop.

soon, those heavy steps you heard from outside are treading in your direction until he reaches the corner of the couch – right where your face is. without any hesitation, he sinks into a squat until you’re at eye-level with the giant.

you don’t move an inch, but even though you’re irritated, you kind of wanna kiss him.

“you’re home early,” you mumble, instead of grabbing his face and crashing your lips into his.

Atsumu tilts his head, “i wanted to surprise ya ‘cus i knew you’d be off early.”

he looks annoyingly attractive under the dingy living-room light. where are his dark circles? why are there no wrinkles on his forehead?

you, on the otherhand, probably look like a sloth on its last leg... arm? sloth appendages are confusing and you’d rather not think about that right now.

“is there anything i can do for ya?” he asks, softening at your grumpy expression.

yes.

“no.”

why are you making this difficult for yourself? it’s obvious you’re not doing too hot... and you really want that back massage – your muscles are practically screaming at you for relief.

he leans in closer, brushing his knuckles across your exposed cheek. they’re gentle on your skin.

“are ya sure?” he asks, his voice just above a whisper.

okay, sometimes he’s sweet. but only sometimes.

“can... you give me a massage?” you mumble through pouting lips.

a gentle smile forms on his lips, “yeah.”

he stands, long legs replacing the space where his face once was. Atsumu then shuffles to your side, but it takes him a moment to get situated.

the couch dips as he places a knee on either side of you, straddling your hips. Atsumu makes ass-to-ass contact. the most romantic of positions.

you squeal as he crushes you beneath him.

“oh, c’mon i’m not that heavy,” Atsumu snorts.

“says the guy who’s not actively being squashed into a couch.”

although you’d rather this than the burning ache under your skin.

he grumbles under his breath, but you choose to ignore it. suddenly, fingers are pressing deeply into your upper back and grazing your shoulder blades.

a quick gasp escapes your lips and you instantly regret it.

his deep chuckle shakes his body and, in turn, yours too. thankfully, his lips stay sealed.

you wish you could see that little smirk of his, as much as it bugs you, while he works his magic on your tight shoulders. there’s something so charming about that lopsided grin – it’s part of why you love him so much.

he adjusts again, accidentally kneeing you in the side.

“shit! be careful,” you jolt, warning him.

he smooths a hand down your hip and mutters out a genuine “sorry,” atoning in both word and deed.

in doing so, a metallic coolness brushes against an exposed patch of skin, making you shiver. you peek over your shoulder to see what it is.

it’s the ring on his finger...

and suddenly you can’t fuss at him anymore.

instead, warmth travels steadily throughout your body and his palms burn against your skin.

how can you be marrying him and still flush over the silliest things? in your defense, the ring is a relatively new thing in your relationship. it throws you for a loop anytime you catch sight of it.

Atsumu kneads firmly into the tissues, loosing stubborn knots and waking up your tired skin. his hands are large and stable; like a potter to unshaped clay, the digits mould and shape and indent.

slowly, but surely, your body relaxes and your mood lifts. a soft, virtually undetectable smile is on your lips.

Atsumu could be hellish and rude and a brat about the oddest things. he’s pretty gross and always tries to hug you when he’s dripping sweat. you’re also certain, positive, without a shadow of a doubt sure that he’s the more disagreeable twin.

but you’re probably the only person who can put up with him.

and he, you.

it’s a good thing you found each other... and even better that you can both give great back massages. it’s likely that’s what’s preserving your relationship.

hopefully, that same tactic works in marriage too.

you hum to yourself and your eyes, already drooping, finally close. Atsumu softens his touch, tracing the curves and contours of your body, lulling you into a hazy state.

Atsumu, rough and tumble as he is, could be gentle when he wanted to be — a side of him that easily made you see stars and super novas where only golden eyes and blond strands exist.

at some point, you think you feel a ghost of a breath against your skin.

maybe even a pair of lips pressing to your neck? you’re a little too out of it to tell.

but as soon as you find yourself drifting off, his hands peel away from you. it’s like you just lost a piece of yourself because you’re desperately searching for that missing warmth.

you whine in protest, turning to face the cruel man. after such a long fucking week, he chose to stop. and you were almost asleep too.

but that bastard.

that disgustingly adorable bastard.

he’s smiling as wide and bright as the milky way. there’s not even a hint of guilt.

“my turn,” he directs through a waggish grin.

alright, he’s slappable again.

—

[dylanobrienisbatman]

The main problem with the whole mal vs the darkling thing in regards to being possessive (or really when it comes to any of their traits) is the fact that throughout, the darkling is clearly framed as the villain and his actions reflect that, whereas Mal as supposed to be the good guy and best romantic partner for Alina, and yet he has all these awful character traits and tendencies. So its less about how awful the Bad Guy is (since he's supposed to be), and more about how awful the person that we're supposed to believe is the best option for Alina is. I don't ship either, just my two cents.

Okay well... two things. First, your comment about "its less about how awful the bad guy is, since he's supposed to be", takes every comment I've made about Darkles out of context, which seems fitting since everything Darklina's spout about Mal is out of context. Him being the Bad Guy is fine, and if you like him AS A VILLAIN, and acknowledge all the bad shit he does, then my posts aren't for you. I think he's a very interesting villain, and a lot of the terrible shit he does that I have to keep making posts about make him a good villain, the problem is when the terrible shit the "Bad Guy" does is romanticized and viewed as the reasons why Alina SHOULD have picked him. So, don't assume everyone gets that "hes supposed to be awful". The point my post was making is that Darklina's love to call Mal possessive, but then turn around and act like Darkles literally enslaving her in somehow sexy and romantic. It's fucking not, and it's transparent as hell that y'all romanticize and sexualize the actually possessive character, and then project false character traits onto Mal. It's so transparent, it's almost funny.

But, more importantly, to your second, very wrong point, I wonder how much of the narrative about Mal having "awful character traits and tendencies" is actually a commentary on Mal as a character, or is it just Darklina's lying about things Mal has done and everyone accepting that misinterpretation as canon. Because, if were making a list...

Fuck boy - False! Mal was not a fuck boy! He was an attractive teenager who hooked up with consenting girls his age when he could, and he was not in a relationship during that time. Alina had never told him how she felt, so he is not beholden to her. (Also, nobody seems to have an issue with the fact that Darkles hooked up with Zoya in the show, that doesn't make HIM a fuckboy... interesting) (also also, nobody seems to discuss Darkles literally sexually assaulting Alina, and lying and manipulating her to get her to be physically intimate with him so he can use her... double interesting).

Slut Shames Alina - FALSE! The ever favourite callout line from Darklina's "He's all over you" isn't him slut shaming her. First, he has no idea what their relationship is like at that point, but more importantly, he is making an observation of her status in the little palace and how she has become his tool. He has dressed her up in his colors, made her put on a show for his benefit, and has created a situation where Alina appears to be his. Mal is noting that after months of searching for her, believing she was being hurt, tortured, or worse, when he arrives to save her, she looks like the Darkling's pet. (and, even if he WAS angry because he perceived them to be romantically involved, boy just spent months fighting for his life, lost multiple friends, and almost died to find her, all while coming to the realisation that he was in love with her, and then he shows up, after not hearing from her for months... I'd be pissed as hell too.) Important Note: He even acknowledges that what he said was wrong and tries to apologise, before Alina tells him that he was right. (Shadow and Bone, pg. 286). He also then apologizes, completely unprompted, for what he said. (Shadow and Bone, pg. 297).

Fat Shames Alina - False! This one is particularly laughable to me, because its one of the Darklina arguments that falls apart the second you actually read the scene. They are running for their lives in the forest, and Mal has to hunt and gather to feed them. He is noting that Alina's appetite has increased since he last saw her, and he makes a joke (ya know, how you do with friends) about how it would be easier to keep her fed if she still had her more meager appetite from before. He makes no comment on her weight, or her size, and he is not actually commenting on her appetite in a negative way, he is just acknowledging that it's a lot more work for him now that she eats more. Right before he says the line, the quote even proves that he isn't shaming her or thinking badly of her: "With a bemused expression, he watched as I gobbled down my portion and then sighed, still hungry". He is noting a change in her, and complaining that its made more work for him. If you think thats the same as fat shaming, well... thats a you problem.

Hates Alina's Powers - FALSE!!!! How to begin... do we talk about it was Mal's idea to hunt the stag in S&B, because he knew she needed it to be more powerful so she could stop the darkling? Do we talk about how he vowed to find the firebird for her, even though he was terrified of what all that power would do to her? Do we talk about how he literally died so she could achieve the power she needed to save the world? Or maybe we could talk about how he believed in her power more than anyone else, like when everyone was making bets about her abilities with the Cut and he knew she'd go further and better than anyone else expected her too, or when he tells her that he was never afraid of her powers, only what seeking all that power would do to her (which is literally the theme of the books, that power corrupts and seeking unmatched power can destroy you)? Mal being afraid of what is going to happen to Alina, being protective of her and worrying over her, is not the same as him hating her powers. He exists to help remind Alina of the themes of the story, and to guide her into maintaining her humanity.

Abusive - ... Do I even need to explain this one? Must I deign an explanation as to why this favourite Darklina lie is so fucking stupid, and also totally hypocrisy? No? Because we all know Darkles is actually the abusive one and they're trying to project their own shit onto Mal to further their abuse apologist agenda? Cool. Moving on.

Possessive of Alina - False! Throughout the entire series, Mal is quite literally the opposite of possessive, but yall just cant read. Not only does he quite literally step out of the way and allow Nikolai to court Alina without argument, which is the most direct example of him not being possessive, he also spends two full books believing, and repeatedly saying over and over and over, that they can't be together because he is not good enough for her. Mal believes, fully, that Alina deserves more than him, better than him, because he's just a tracker and a soldier, just a regular man with nothing to offer her but his love and his protection, and she is a Saint and should be a Queen. Possessiveness is the wish to own and control someone, it is literally the opposite of Mal believing that he's not good enough and doing everything he can to ensure that Alina achieves everything and gets everything he believes she is owed. A possessive character would not tell her to tell him to leave because he has nothing he can offer her, no title or land or country or crown. A possessive character would not promise to be the blade in her hand, because he believed he had nothing but the blood he could spill to offer her.

Angry - True! Yeah, omg, you caught us, Mal is ANGRY! Heaven forbid a teenager who is traumatized beyond belief and has to give up everything in his life, his position in the military (he deserted for her), his friends and the job he loved (Mikhail and Dubrov died for him, and he can't be a tracker in the army... because he deserted... for Alina), and, most importantly, he has to give up Alina (she should be Queen, he believes, and he has to give up the future he imagined with the girl he loves, who he was pretty sure loved him back, because she's a saint and queen and he's just a man), and more, is ANGRY. He has to be the one to find the amplifiers that he knows will end up hurting her, because thats what she needs to save the world. He has to sit by while Nikolai treats him like the dirt on his shoe and tries to woo Alina for his own personal gain (because Nikoalai did not love Alina. Maybe he came to care for her, but he proposed and spent all of S&S trying to get her to marry him when it was obvious they were not in love. He straight up says its so that the next King of Ravka can be married to the Sun Summoner. It's a power grab.) and he can't do anything about it. So yeah, Mal is angry. And yeah, sometimes he's even angry at Alina, just like sometimes she's angry at him. But they always find their way back, always apologize and try to be better for each other, and if you think anger is a toxic trait, and not simply a natural human emotion, might I suggest touching some fucking grass?

Idk why you thought I'd stand for Mal slander on my blog, cuz I will not. So, I'm gonna stop there, because I have shit to do today, but I really do wonder how much of Mal's 'toxic' or 'terrible' traits, that make him such a 'bad' love interest for Alina, really comes from Darklina's who refuse to actually read the text critically at all, and instead take everything he does and says out of context to further their agenda that Alina should have ended up as the Darkling's fucking slave forever, because thats the "girl power feminist" ending somehow. Mal supports her, loves her, sacrifices for her at every turn, and does everything he can do, to the point of literally dying for her, to ensure that she can defeat Darkles and save the world. He protects her, and when they end up happy and safe together on the orphange that they've rebuilt to help the children that were victims of Darkles war and genocide, he spends his days bringing her tea and cakes and flowers, kissing her silly under the stairs in the view of all the teachers, and calling her names like beauty, beloved, cherished, my heart for the rest of their ordinary life together, if love can ever be called that.

[sockablock]

When Essek's old alter ego is suddenly asked by Da'leth to work at Soltryce Academy, nine semi-retired adventurers are thrust back into a web of danger, intrigue, and wizardly shenanigans. (Surprise, surprise! I’m back with another Shadowgast WIP)

Chapter 1: The Worst-Case Scenario

Caleb watched Essek hover back and forth like a miniature, panicked storm cloud.

“This is ridiculous! It must be some kind of joke. We haven't had any contact for years, and now he expects me to believe him? What is he playing at?”

“Breathe, Essek, breathe. You will not solve this mystery by wearing a hole in—above—the carpet.”

“What?” Essek looked down, then stopped floating. “Oh. My apologies. I’m a bit…well, you know.”

“I would be too.” There was urging in Caleb’s voice. “Take a seat, Schatz. Let me see the letter.”

Essek obliged, handing over a crumpled scroll right before collapsing heavily into his chair. The fire of a cold late-autumn evening cast their den in gold and orange light.

“Does he explain himself?” Caleb turned the scroll the right way around. “Does he say why?”

“Has Da’leth ever done that?” Essek snorted. “All he wrote was that I—rather, that Thain, had been selected. And I only have two days to respond.”

Caleb waved his hand, and a glowing orb appeared. He brought it closer to the parchment. “May I?”

“Please.”

“To the esteemed Lord Dezran Thain of Nicodranas—good grief. He really isn’t subtle.”

“Tell me about it,” Essek said.

“Perhaps,” Caleb continued, “you are aware of the ongoing investigations into the Cerberus Assembly. If so, then perhaps you have also heard that Archmage Tversky and Archmage Margolin will be leaving our ranks by the end of the week—ah yes, Beau was quite proud of that.”

“She should be,” Essek said miserably. “It’s about time. Read the next part.”

“And so it falls on the surviving members of our organization to fill these vacant roles. We believe, for the safety and stability of our country, that the next Archmages of Conscription and Dysology should come from within the Empire; however, it has been brought to our attention that adding a Nicodranian mage to our ranks could be quite valuable. Such an alliance would strengthen our ties to the Menagerie Coast, as well as assuage any concerns that the Empire is isolationist or inflexible. Therefore, as we have been friends for some time—really?”

Essek made a face. “I would not have called him my ‘friend’ in any form, but we have known each other for a few decades. Unfortunately.”

“Unfortunately,” Caleb commiserated. He smoothed out the letter and found his place again. “—I wished to have the pleasure of informing you that on behalf of the Cerberus Assembly, you, Lord Dezran Thain of Nicodranas, have been extended the honor of replacing Archmage Margolin in his secondary capacity—as the distinguished and peerless Headmaster of the Soltryce Academy. Oh. My gods.”

Essek groaned. He had his head buried in his hands.

“You Identified this already?” Caleb managed eventually.

Essek nodded. “I wish I hadn’t.”

Caleb continued to stare at the letters. The fluid, curving script seemed to blur all together. “That’s…gods,” he said again.

“Agreed.”

“I…can’t imagine how you’re feeling right now.”

Essek snorted. “Actually, if anyone could, it would be you.” Then something occurred to him. Suddenly, the hearth shone an odd color in his eyes. “This was delivered to our home. To this house, in Rexxentrum. Yours. That…bastard.”

Caleb was quick to understand. He took a deep breath, then reached over for Essek’s hand.

“Maybe it was just enchanted to find you wherever you are. Like a Sending spell.”

“I’d hate to think otherwise. That would mean—”

Caleb interrupted him out of mercy. “Every inch of our tower is warded from divination. Besides, you’ve adopted an endless array of personas. I don’t even think we’ve been seen together with you as Thain, not since the party years ago.”

“Still.” Essek rubbed his eyes. “The timing makes me think he knows something. That, and the fact that it’s for Thain, I mean—what has Thain accomplished? I don’t even remember telling anyone I was a mage!”

“That, ah…that might have been Jester’s fault. She really enjoyed adding to your personas. You needed a past, after all, otherwise you would have just appeared from nowhere.”

“So she told everyone that Thain was a famous wizard?”

“The best lies are often true,” Caleb shrugged. “Though I admit that she might have gone a little overboard. You know how much she likes to praise her friends.”

It was a testament to Essek’s troubled mood that he barely acknowledged this. Caleb squeezed his fingers. “They said…they did say you could reject them. And their political reasoning is not unsound. Maybe that is all there is to it—the Assembly needs someone to be the Headmaster, and they thought of you.”

Even after so many years of trying, Caleb’s reassuring voice still left some things desired. Essek shut his eyes.

“My love, the very idea that the Cerberus Assembly is even thinking of me is a nightmare.”

 “Fair enough.”

“I just want to know why,” Essek muttered. “Why now? Why me? What is he after?”

“I don’t know,” Caleb said. “I wish I did.”

Essek suddenly turned toward him. “I—I hate to ask this, but can you find out? You know…ask our old friend the newest Archmage.”

“Ah.” Caleb’s face gave a complicated shuffle, one common these days when Astrid was mentioned.

“If you don’t want to—” Essek hurried.

“No, no, I can…try.” He scratched his chin. “She’s just been less open, lately. She’s not…pleased by how thorough the Soul is being. Beauregard is relentless.”

“It has been seven years. That’s a lot for your kind, but probably just enough for Da’leth to finally realize they mean business—” Essek blinked. “Do you think that’s why he picked me?”

“We don’t know that he’s behind this,” Caleb said lamely. At Essek’s expression, he relented. “Alright, alright. I’ll stop suggesting otherwise.”

“It’s not unappreciated, I just prefer to be direct. It is clear that Da’leth is trying to use me again. This time, in order to hurt you and the Cobalt Soul. There is no point in believing otherwise.”

Caleb brushed Essek’s face. “No, that would require him to think he could use you in the first place. But that is impossible, because Thain does not know Widogast.”

“He does, though.”

“Yes, but is Da’leth aware of that? He cannot be.”

“I thought we put an end to that.”

“Only to statements of idle hope, not facts.” Caleb was now holding both his hands. “The truth of the matter is that…yes, perhaps the Martinet does want you for some devious plan—”

“Oh, lovely—”

“—however, any plan he has cannot be based on our connection. We have been doing this…being us, for seven years now, Essek. If he were going to play against that hand, he would have done so already. This must be something else.”

Essek huffed. “What, though? What reason does he have? I haven’t been important to the Kryn for years. I resigned, I’m virtually a stranger there, and I certainly don’t have any more secrets for sale.” He paused. “Well, ones that Ludinus would desire. I’m useless to him.”

“I highly doubt that,” Caleb said. And his voice, while kind, had a faint edge to it. “You are right in that there probably is some motivation here. It might be related to the investigation in other ways—after all, two members of the Assembly are leaving. That makes four upheavals in under a decade. And if the Soul and the crown are both pushing for the appointment of more partial Archmages, then it might very well be the case that Da’leth just wants someone he can control. In your case, through blackmail.”

“Hooray for me.”

“He probably wouldn’t, though,” Caleb said. “Since, as you said, this is a situation of mutually assured destruction.”

Essek grimaced. “I have been somewhat wishful in that department. Even with your support, it is still my word against the Martinet.”

“Our word. That includes the Cobalt Soul.”

Essek shook his head. “You’ve seen how well he’s stood up to them so far. Can you honestly say that my safety is a sure thing? Don’t lie to me, Caleb.”

There was a pause.

“Essek, I will do everything in my power to protect you.”

"I know." He patted Caleb on the hand.

Outside their tower, far away, the evening bells of the Rexxentrum began to ring. One, and then two, and then almost a dozen, loud and bronze across the dimming sky.

“There is one way to find out for sure what Da’leth is planning.”

Essek sighed. “I know. But I don’t like it.”

Caleb leaned back in his seat. “Neither do I.”

The cry of the great bells waned. In their den, all around the wall, points of magelight flared to life—flickering and purple harbingers of night.

“Will you do it?” Caleb said.

“I don’t know if I have a choice.”

“You do,” Caleb said. “The worst-case scenario is that Da’leth tries to talk, and we…deal with that.”

“We’ve been trying to deal with him for years,” Essek said. “And…maybe this is bold of me to say, but the worst-case scenario isn’t that—it’s not knowing. Maybe I can…maybe I can find the answers here. If Da’leth thinks he is controlling me, if he trusts me to do his bidding, maybe I can finally learn something to break his hold.”

“As long as he never truly controls you,” Caleb said. “That is a risk I cannot accept.”

This time, Essek was the one to offer assurance. He gently pressed a kiss to Caleb’s hand.

“You forget,” he said wryly. “I am a powerful wizard. Haven’t you heard my title?”

“Shadowhand?” Caleb said. He did not look fully mollified, but he managed a chuckle. “I thought you were retired.”

Essek smiled. “I was, my love, but now it seems that I have a new role. Starting soon...you will be sharing your home with the next Headmaster of the Soltryce Academy.”

—

✨ Ko-Fi Link in Bio! ✨ | Requests are OPEN :3

[kallulovesu]

Heyooo :) can you do headcannons for a platonic yandere allies ?? Am aroace so that's the kind that floats my boat, also do you ever feel tired of writing ?? Like .. ur so productive, it's awsome but like .. I hope ur doing it cuz u have energy not cuz you have followers waiting 😬 take care Plz ❤❤🥺

For the anon that asked that yandere reader ask, thx u inspired this ask ur idea is rad :3

(A/N:) ahh thank you for the worry anon, but it’s no problem really!💞 I wouldn’t be making as much content if I wasn’t having any fun, since it’ll probably end up feeling more like chore...and I hate doing chores 😭

That one protective friend that makes sure to check up on you every second (but it’s turned up to the extreme and downright becomes unhealthy in some cases)™

It was ironic to him. Out everyone that he had gotten to know over all these years— hell, perhaps even Arthur; you were the only one he felt like understood him the most. Not many seemed to notice what was going on beneath the surface of his facade, which was why he appreciated you being there. You still liked him despite the many flaws that he had, and tried your best being with him even if it became downright tiring. Alfred would be heavily dependent on you because of this, often going to you to cheer him up— or before he was going to make a rash choice.

So it was only natural that he couldn’t see himself being without you.

You were like a best friend to him; Alfred would even go as far as to say that he felt a familial connection between the two of you. So the deep desire to protect you was normal, wasn’t it? Even when he felt himself worrying for your well-being at even the slightest approach of a stranger, it was just his instinct telling him that there was something wrong. It wasn’t anything unhealthy. Thus, would usually drag you away from anyone that he found to be suspicious; even those he was already familiar with. This would probably result in a lot of arguments, with him trying to say what was ‘best for you’ and with you denying that you needed this much...protection. You swore that it almost felt like he was just isolating you from the others, to have you purely depend on him for whatever reason you couldn’t make up.

Alfred can’t handle being apart from you— nonetheless the idea of you being angry with him, or even hating him . It truly didn’t matter if the reason was rather ridiculous or not, the idea of you hating him just...made his stomach churn uncomfortably. You were his best buddy, and basically one of the only ones he could trust with his inner worries; and the risk of it all being taken away from him because of a silly, childish mistake was all it took to send the poor boy into a state of panic. Please don’t leave him, he’d do anything to keep you there with him. Begging, gifting— you name it.

Arthur didn’t completely seem to realize his feelings at first, confusing it with romantic attraction for a little while— before quickly seeming to realize that it was all purely platonic. He did feel a bit protective of you, maybe even possessive...but it had nothing to do with romance, nor lust. It was just him wanting to have someone beside him, someone that he could call a friend. And someone that would never leave his side.

It won’t be hard to notice how...bad his communication skills were; with him often saying things that he didn’t really mean and slightly setting you off. Arthur is stubborn, so it may take some time (and slight teasing at how much he hesitated) for him to actually apologize. You’ll probably get used to it after a while, since he’s one big tsundere.

Saying this out loud was an absolute no-no for this man— but you being around Arthur was often enough to make him the slightest bit happier. It felt a bit lonely at times, especially with less and less people being around him these past few years. So having you as a friend almost felt like a breath of fresh air.

He’s very critical of those you choose to be around with, often analyzing even the smallest of things so he can determine if they’re actually worth being around you. Which more often than not ends up... not being the case. Arthur will tell you to stay away from them; saying that they were suspicious, and probably had something bad in mind. He’ll resort to isolating you if you were to disobey him, trying to take as much of your attention— and perhaps even kidnapping you if the extreme were to happen. You were his one and only best friend, and he had to make sure you were safe. Always.

Totally the big brother type...well, he usually proclaims himself as being one, so it isn’t that much of a surprise.

Francis will make sure to absolutely pamper you with his attention; hanging out with you, sending letters whenever he was too busy...and simply sending gifts from France. He simply couldn’t let you go off feeling unloved!

He adores talking about you; usually going off on a mindless ramble whenever someone even mentions your name, like a proud father showing off his child. Others will usually compare him to one due to how much he adores talking about you— or simply the way that he treats you. Which would quickly be disregarded with a: “oh, I’m no father! They’re just such a nice little friend to have around, who wouldn’t want to praise such a delicate person?”

On a second note....he actually did feel like a father figure to you. Huh.

Francis will often suggest helping you out with your love life, perhaps even gushing over cute guys together that you found on a random dating app— before quickly realizing that he didn’t really want this. Those silly moments were fun and all, but having you talk with someone that could just be out to use you made him a bit angry...and paranoid, mainly the latter. He will make sure that anyone that even so much dares to get close you first gets his approval first. The feeling of a broken heart was all too familiar to him, and he didn’t want you to experience such a thing.

This may result in him checking up on you...an awful lot, making sure that those around you were only the best of the best and wouldn’t end up being bad influence to you. Yes, he truly was like a father.

A sibling-like person in his life that he didn’t feel insecure against and acknowledged him as his own person? Fuck yes!!

Jokes aside— Matthew really does care deeply for you. Perhaps it was due to the Canadian barely having those that he could...truly call close friends, so having you around almost felt like a blessing. Unlike Francis, he won’t really show you off or talk about you much, especially around his brother. The American had already stolen enough from him, so why would he let something like that happen again?

He’s extremely wary of anyone that even so much tries to make a move on you. It’s just...you were someone that he held extremely dear; and having you potentially getting hurt due to some lowlife that managed to slip into your life would absolutely break his heart. Matthew didn’t want to fail in protecting you, he would never forgive himself if something like that were to happen.

Losing you is something that he wishes to avoid completely. He’ll even go as far as kidnapping you if it came down to it, Matthew just couldn’t see himself living happily without you by his side.

Yao likes cute things...and you’re a cute friend, so it’s a perfect match!

But seriously, he thinks that you’re absolutely adorable. Whether it be because of your personality— or your appearance, it really doesn’t end up mattering in the end. You’re his cute little friend, and that’s all that matters!

He’ll often treat you with more, yet gentler care than most of the others around him. He knew that you were well capable of taking care of yourself; but he just couldn’t help but see you as something fragile, something that he had to protect. So you can already imagine how frustrated he gets when someone treats you with even the slightest bit of disrespect— Yao will often confront them immediately, while you awkwardly have to sit back and watch it all. Almost feeling pity for the person that had to endure your friend’s seemingly never-ending complaints.

Oh, he probably doesn’t quite realize how he comes off as a father at times; seeing how much he’ll scold you for the smallest mistakes (while making sure to correct you of course!) and how he usually made decisions for you, making it hard to refuse his gestures due to his pushy nature. But it’ll probably become a normal thing for the two of you as time progresses, since it’s just...how Yao was, you assumed.

His controlling behavior will also reflect on how he treats your personal life. Yao is very selective of who he lets you be around with, so he’ll often look at your acquaintances and friends with a very critical eye, immediately expressing his distaste in them if they were even to do the smallest thing wrong. “Such a brute isn’t worth being around, (y/n).” Yao will warn you to stay away from them, but won’t bring it up any further if you decide to do what he says. If you don’t then...well, he had special friends to help him out with his dirtier work.

Yao might consider kidnapping you if this behavior keeps on repeating, but won’t feel compelled to actually do it unless something bad were to happen.

Ivan will always try his best to be there for you! While it most likely won’t quite work with him being a rather busy person; a country, nonetheless, but he’ll do his upmost best. It was extremely hard for Ivan to make friends that...weren’t scared of him or secretly disliked him, so having you was such a relief!

Being his only friend, he’ll make sure to be absolutely devoted to you— perhaps in a way that wasn’t too healthy in a friendship, and would often be looked down upon by those looking at your relationship from an outsider’s perspective. But could one truly blame him? Ever since he was born it felt like everyone around him were either toying with him, or were utterly terrified of the boy expect for his two sisters. It was lonely...so it isn’t hard to imagine how overjoyed he was once having you in his life; someone that didn’t display the usual fright whenever he approached them, nor did you look like you were out to hurt him.

Ivan appreciated you a lot.

It wasn’t hard to imagine that you’d most likely become the target of a few other countries, your connection with Ivan wasn’t extremely hidden from the outside world... (from how much he’d senselessly mutter things about you when daydreaming, and the many times he stuck by your side) and so, others would take it to their advantage. Those like Alfred will probably try convince you to leave Ivan’s side, spewing terrifying stories of the man to try and stir up something inside of you so you could leave him. It was mainly for your own safety, yes. But it was also to make the Russian weaker. It was obvious that he was depending on you heavily, and losing you would...god forbid if that would ever happen. Ivan would completely lose himself, perhaps even snapping completely.

So don’t hesitate to tell Ivan if someone was bothering you! Ivan will make sure to get rid of the little parasite from your life in an instant, giving them a short warning whenever the two come across each other...and making sure that he got his point across! It’s better to ignore their sudden disappearance after that day, since someone like them wasn’t worth lingering in your mind.