#so it makes sense that the same privileged group keeps fighting and running into each other but damn

[icarusbetide]

i joke that rev period america was just 20 people in a circle recycling reusing periodic beef with each other but holy shit the same names every single goddamn time. von steuben wtf were you doing at the doctors' riot of 1788. hercules mulligan you exist in a different stratosphere from the adams family, why is your son involved with john adam's son. von steuben and hamilton why are you involved in this as well. aaron burr why are you maria reynold's lawyer. can i expect jefferson and madison in a trenchcoat to jump out of the bushes or what.

[i-heart-hxh]

I found that question about the Zoldyck's training really interesting and wanted to add my thoughts on the topic and see what you think about them.

I totally agree that all their kids go through a well established training regimen, but I'm not sure if the torture training is something all the generations of Zoldyck's went through especially since Zeno doesn't seem to be keen about it, I wonder if it is something Silva implemented, this a complete head canon of mine but I feel like he is obsessed in finding the strongest heir since he himself never managed to become stronger than his father.

And about Killua receiving a special treatment, I kinda disagree with that, the main reason is that Killua out of all his siblings (excluding Alluka) is the only one who has expressed dislike about killing, Illumi doesn't even hesitate to kill innocent people, Kalluto said that he tends to torture his enemies and lose his sense of time cuz he enjoys making them suffer slowly, Milluki seems eager about experimenting new ways to kill people. So Killua, under Zoldyck's standard, is a problem child, he was tortured and being taught how to kill since birth, and yet he was healing injured birds with Nanika behind his parents back, he also has that other "problem", caring too much about other people, probably that is the reason why they made the needle make him forget about Alluka and Nankika.

When you think about the Zoldyck family and how they would deal with a problem child, I don't think talking to him or spoiling him is the way they would go about it, they probably tried to beat him out of it, especially since he has the most potential, he probably was expected to survive harder punishments. When they noticed that he wasn't changing they most likely decided to use Illumi's needle, which imo is a rather extreme measure, if you think about it, while the needle would keeping safe from stronger people, without it he could have been forced to analyze those fights to try to come out with a plan to overcome a fight where someone is stronger than him, Killua is a smart boy after all, instead the needle made him want to run away instantly, that in one way or another slowed down his training.

Finally, I think his siblings, minus Alluka, have way more freedom than him, we haven't seen Illumi getting scolded for forming an alliance/friendship with Hisoka, and from what we've seen, Kalluto hasn't been forced to return home or punished for joining the spiders which will make him develop relationships with a group of people, and Milluki never leaves his home, but when he goes to the auction to try to get Greed Island he is allowed to go without any complaints, I think Killua caring too much for other people is the reason he why wasn't allow to have any friends and is the reason his mother was so reluctant to let him leave.

Sorry for the wall of text but this topic is so interesting too me that I can talk about it for hours hahaha.

Thanks for writing this up, it's interesting to hear other peoples' takes on the Zoldyck family dynamics! They are super interesting, and while a lot of things are established with them, there's certainly some room for different interpretations on exactly how things work with them and how they feel about each other more specifically than the relationship chart tells us, especially because their relationships are complex. I enjoyed reading your thoughts!

I actually don't disagree with you about Killua's treatment, though in my view he was simultaneously privileged and treated differently than his siblings due to his status as the heir, and at the same time punished and beaten down for his compassionate and friendly tendencies, as well as his rebelliousness. I do think there have been "benefits" to being the heir for him, but they're benefits of a double-edged sort, especially because he doesn't want to be the heir in the first place.

The benefits likely included special treatment and focus on him to a degree, praise, and a sense that he excelled at training when compared to his siblings. Of course these end up being drawbacks in some ways because he's not happy in this situation in the first place and the increased attention was smothering, particularly from Kikyo and Illumi. I think he can receive preferential treatment and have it be both a thing that boosts his ego and makes him enviable to his siblings because everything centers around him, and at the same time even just the special treatment itself is a drawback for him.

The drawbacks are that he likely had a different set of expectations on him, his freedom was possibly less than the other siblings like you said (both because of the increased expectations AND because of his rebelliousness/personality that I'm sure the family felt they needed to force out of him at any cost), and when he does deviate from how he's "supposed" to be, I'm sure the punishments were indeed awful. I'll bet they tried all kinds of things to try to change the way he is, and as he got older he likely started hiding his real thoughts and feelings to avoid trouble as he considered his options for escape.

Killua seems to believe he has a good relationship with his father, he has respect for him, and he seems to like Zeno as well. Of course, from an audience perspective we know Silva has been majorly manipulating him and giving him freedom only because he anticipates that the needle will cause Killua to betray his friends and come back for good. Even though Killua ran away and clearly doesn't want to be an assassin and take over the business, he generally doesn't seem to hate his family members--or, at least Silva and Zeno. This makes me think the way he was treated directly varies a lot from family member-to-family member, and he does innocently see his father and grandfather as being some degree of "fair" and "able to be negotiated with."

Also, his attitude at the beginning still does read to me as being someone who has been praised a lot and is used to being considered superior to others. See how he acts about Gon being assessed above him in the Hunter Exam, for example, and just generally how cocky he is early on. I'm sure it's partly an act, and partly a result of legitimately having self-confidence due to being not only a Zoldyck, but among the most talented of all the Zoldycks. That comes from being confident in his power and talent, but of course his actual self esteem is horrible, because he's never been accepted prior to Gon (except perhaps by Alluka) for who he truly is as a person.

But I'm only disagreeing a tiny bit, because I do generally agree with you. Like I said I think both things are true at the same time. I definitely think he's faced a lot of difficult treatment from trying to be forced into a role his personality doesn't fit, but to me his upbringing feels like one of both privilege and special status and at the same time horrible treatment, loneliness, and pain, as a result of the "normal" Zoldyck training regimen and also any punishments he received for being himself.

[blackmissfrizzle]

Just Right (3)

Part 2

Characters: Angel Reyes x black!plussized!reader

Chapter Summary: Someone throws a wrench in the plans.

Chapter Warning: Footbal AU. Don’t hate me please 😬 angst, implied smut, and some very petty behavior.

If you want to read more here’s my masterlist and you want to be notified when I post here’s my taglist

Divider credit: @firefly-graphics

The next morning, you had a pep in your step. Angel left you in bed with breakfast and a note saying he went on a run.

Coming downstairs you heard Angel’s voice, you assumed he was on the phone and not talking to the devil herself.

“Adelita, this is a surprise.” Angel backed away from her when he heard your voice.

“Y/N,” she smiled and pulled you into a hug. Backing away she twirled your hair around your finger. “I see the drought is over. Who’s the lucky guy?” If Adelita wasn’t so damn conceited she would’ve smelled Angel on you. But of course, you wouldn’t be able to bag a guy like Angel.

Angel cleared his throat and stepped in between the two of you, grabbing onto Adelita’s hips. “Uhh, let’s leave Y/N alone. I’m sure she’s not the kiss and tell type.”

“Not around you.” She joked, patting Angel��s chest. “Once we’re done talking me and you can have some girl talk like old times. Just you’ll be the one sharing stories this time.”

The nerve. This is the second time in your life that you wanted to knock Adelita out. “Yeah sure.” You gave her a tight smile over your shoulder and went back to your room.

While walking you could hear the hushed whispers and the sounds of lips kissing. As soon as you knew you were out of sight you ran to your room and immediately started packing.

“What are you doing?” Right after Adelita left, Angel ran to you. “What does it look like Angel?”

Tugging your pants out of your hands, Angel stopped you. “You don’t have to leave.”

“And what?!” You screamed in his face. “Stay here with you and Adelita?!”

He tried to hug you, but you pushed him away. “You really must be crazy. How are you just gonna take her back?”

“She was my fiancée, she deserves the benefit of the doubt.” Angel explained like it was a one size fits all reason.

“Oh, the same fiancée that dumped you once your future was unsure.” You scrunched your face up. “The same fiancée that told you it was over through a letter? The same fiancée that was all over social media hanging out and partying while you were in rehab? The same fiancée that so happens to ‘coincidentally’ come back into your life after you just made the biggest comeback ever?” You brushed past him went out the door. “Yeah, you can miss me with that bullshit.”

Angel trailed behind you, hoping he could amend things with you. “Y/N, I’m sorry.”

Whipping around you shoved him. “Yeah, you are. You know honestly, I don’t feel bad for myself as much as I do for you. I pray to God that he never makes me as pathetic as you. Have a nice life, Angel Reyes.”

Opening the front door revealed a sympathetic Mr. Felipe and an angry EZ. They both tried to stop you, but you kissed each man goodbye promising to keep in touch.

EZ waited until he saw you drive away to attack his brother. “What the fuck did you do?” Angel blocked some of his brother’s punches, but EZ managed to get some in.

Felipe was able to pull his youngest off his eldest. “EZ that’s enough!”

“Nah, Pop! You saw her. She practically ran out in tears.”

“It’s none of your damn business, Ezekiel!” Angel tried to walk away from them, but Felipe stopped him. “Explain yourself, son.”

“Adelita.” Both his father and brother groaned at that name. Now they knew why you ran out like that.

EZ didn’t have time for whatever excuse that his brother had. “You two deserve each other. And I hope when you come to your senses it’s too late.” He slammed the door on the way out, too disgusted with Angel to stay.

A few moments later Felipe followed his son out. “Pop,” Angel cried out, hoping to gain some sort of sympathy. “Not right now, Angel.” He stopped at the door and looked back at his son. “Unlike your brother I hope it won’t be too late for you to come to your senses. When you stick your head out of your ass, you and Y/N are perfect for each other.”

Once he was alone, Angel sat on the staircase wondering if he made the right decision.

Losing Angel just wasn’t about your heart breaking, but also losing your best friend. Those months spent with him was probably the best time of your life. The only thing that got you through the days were work and Rio.

At first, he assured you that he could just be your friend but someway somehow, he wormed his way into something more. You told him that you didn’t want him as some rebound, but he cockily said, “Ain’t no way I’m a rebound.” So, you stayed and started dating him.

You were reading a book when Rio came and laid his head in your lap. “Mamaaaa,” he sung kissing the little bit of your exposed fupa. “What do you want?” He was only this adorable when he wanted something like that extra cookie that would mess up his diet. “Nothing extra. Just go to dinner with me.”

“That’s it?” You closed your book and set it down to look at him curiously. “Yeah, I got a dress picked out, hairstylist and makeup artist on the way.”

“Wait, what kind of dinner is this?” Dinners with Rio never required all the hoopla. “The league always hosts a dinner for all the teams in the semifinals.”

“I know, I know, I know,” Rio trampled over your words, not letting you get a word in. “I know that dumbass is gonna be there, but I think it would be the perfect place to show him what he’s missing out on.”

If you went this would be the first time you saw Angel and you weren’t sure if you were ready for that. Last time he made you look like a fool. “I don’t know Rio.”

Sitting up, Rio picked you up and sat you down in your lap. “But mama,” he attacked your neck with his lips, adding a little bite every now and then. “I’ll be bored without you. And who am I gonna shove in a closet and fuck her like a dirty girl?”

“You’ll be fine without me for a couple of hours.”

“Alright, time for the big guns.” Rio led you to his bedroom with a covered mannequin in the center. Unveiling the mannequin, he revealed the most beautiful dress. You would be crazy to not wear that dress.

“Ok, I’ll go!” Rio pulled you by your hips against him. “Good, I thought I would have to use my other negotiation methods.”

“Nah, I still need convincing.” Rio backed you into the bed and pulled off your shorts. “Okay, but you got 15 minutes to cum two times before the stylist gets here.”

Angel was doing his best at trying to keep his cool. Adelita was making her way through all the owners, sponsors, and players ‘networking’ to gain traction for her cause. It wasn’t that he didn’t support, actually he was very supportive of it, but this night was in celebration of him and the other players. And he couldn’t ask her to quit it without looking like a complete douchebag.

“Are you two seriously making bets?” Angel wasn’t paying that much attention to Coco and Gilly until they said Adelita’s name. They were betting on when she would corner their team owner, Miguel Galindo. “How else are we gonna pass the time? Ain’t like there’s scintillating conversation.” Coco collected money from Riz and put it in his breast pocket.

“Pendejo,” Angel ordered another drink and while waiting for it he heard Coco whistle. Turning around to see what made Coco speechless, Angel was glad that he already set his old glass on the bar top, because he would’ve dropped it. There you were in the most beautiful dress looking like a goddess, but his mood soured when he saw that it was Rio escorting you.

Bishop walked up beside him and smacked him in the back of the head. “Fucking dumbass. Now she’s with that asshole.” Angel opened his mouth to say something, but Bishop held up his hand. “I don’t wanna hear it. And you better leaver her alone, she looks happy.” His coach pointed his chin towards you and Rio kissing. Angel slammed back his drink and ordered another one. This was about to be a long night.

“I’m gonna go say hi to Bishop and the guys.” Rio looked for your friends and saw that Angel was right there next to them. “You sure? You want me to go with you?” It warmed your heart that Rio was so protective over you. It was unfamiliar territory for you. Usually, you were the one protecting others. “No, you stay here with your team, I’ll be okay.” Rio quirked his eyebrow, questioning you. He was trying to break you out of the habit of you masking your feelings, pretending you’re fine when you’re really not. “Rio, I promise. I’ll be good.” You patted his chest and started to walk away, but then he caught Angel staring at the two of you real hard and he couldn’t help but give him a show.

Spinning you around into his arms, Rio smashed his lips against yours. His still taste a little bit of yourself from when he wanted to make you his meal. Rio’s hands drifted to your ass and you did little to stop him. Ending the kiss, he tugged your bottom lip slowly releasing it and ending your connection. “Go say hi to your friends.” He whispered in your ear, fixing some of your lipstick that got under your lips.

Angel wanted to knock Rio the clean the fuck out. Who the fuck did he think he was practically dry humping you in public like that? “You better keep your mouth shut. You lost your privileges to be mad.” Coach Hank warned Angel as he saw you approach the group.

“Hey guys!” You were genuinely happy to see all of them. Since, you cut off contact with Angel you haven’t talked to any of them at all.

They all lined up to hug you, almost fighting each other to be the first one. But Angel waited his turn. He had a lot more to say than just hi.

It was a bit awkward at first. Neither one of you made the first move. Eventually, you threw yourself in his arms and you were almost a goner. You did not know that hugging him would bring back all those feelings you tried to bury deep down.

“You look beautiful.” He kept a hand around your wrist, his thumb stroking the inside of it. “Thank you.”

His eyes kept dipping to your dress. There were some cut out pieces revealing more skin than he cared for. “Where’s the rest of your dress?”

Snatching your wrist away, you crossed your arms over your chest to keep yourself from slapping the shit out of Angel. “Rio doesn’t seem to mind.”

Angel invaded your space and glared down at you. “Do I look like Rio?”

“Do I look like Adelita?”

Angel bit the inside of his cheek. He knew he had no reason to question you. You weren’t his, but damn it he wanted you to be.

“This was a mistake coming over here. Go back and talk to your fiancée.”

“She’s not my fiancée.”

Skrtt, you stopped your retreat. “Say what?”

“I said she’s not my fiancée.” Angel wasn’t able to explain further. Adelita finally came and graced you with her presence. She didn’t pay any attention to Angel. All her attention was on you. Adelita was actually pulling you away to talk to one of the other coaches about joining their staff.

This was almost as torturous as talking to Angel. Adelita barely let you get a word in. She was acting like she was your damn agent. Luckily, Rio came and saved the day.

“Where are we going?” You whispered as he pulled you into the hallway. “Don’t worry about it.” He jiggled each door until he found an unlocked door and pushed you through.

“Rio no,” you weakly protested clutching onto his tux. “What? You don’t wanna give daddy a little something something?” He pouted, knowing it was your weakness.

“Okay, but it has to be fast.” Rio kissed you some more knowing how turned you got by simply making out.

Due to your combined breaths getting heavier neither one of you heard the turning of the doorknob. It wasn’t until the light from the hallway shone on you and Rio, exposing your dirty deed.

“Oh shit, my bad dawg!” Angel lifted his head from Adelita’s neck and apologized to the other couple. He didn’t mean it all. Angel saw Rio lead you to the hallway and by the mischievous look he had on his face, he knew his opponent was up to no good.

The little smirk on Angel’s face told you that none of it was an accident. “It’s okay, I wasn’t feeling well anyway. I think we should go home.” You smirked back at Angel. He wasn’t the only one that can play games.

“C’mon Angel, they need to get home.” Adelita winked at you and led an unwilling Angel back to the party.

You were almost out until you got stopped by Mr. Galindo. He was the only team owner you hadn’t talked to that night.

With Miguel Galindo trying to convince you to join his staff and Adelita standing next to you patiently waiting for her chance, Angel and Rio were left alone with each other.

“I don’t know what you’re doing, but stay the fuck away from Y/N. You’re no good for her.” Angel had to refrain from snatching up Rio as he laughed. “You got jokes man.” Rio stepped closer to him, they were basically nose to nose. “At least when I make her cry it’s from my dick and not from being a dickwad.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you kept watch on Rio and Angel. Those two couldn’t be alone without trying to fight in the first 30 seconds.

The scene before you was getting to be too much, but you couldn’t do anything without being disrespectful towards Miguel. Thankfully, Coco and Gilly were watching them too and were able to pull Angel away.

Somehow Miguel talked you into staying for the entire dinner. And because the universe loved you so much you and Rio were assigned to the same table as Angel and Adelita.

After Adelita formally introduced herself to him. And you didn’t know if it was the alcohol or not, but it seemed that she was flirting with Rio. Not that you had anything to worry about. Rio wasn’t entertaining her at all.

“She take my money when I’m in need. Yeah, she’s a trifling’ friend indeed.” As soon as you recognized the notes, you tried to stomp Rio’s foot, but he was too quick.

“Huh, what was that?” Adelita didn’t quite catch what Rio was saying. “Oh nothing, I just got a song stuck in my head.  Now I ain’t saying she a gold digger. But she ain’t messing’ with no broke bro.”

Angel had to admit to himself that was funny, but ain’t no way he’ll let Rio know that.

“Stop it!” You whispered in Rio’s ear. Even if Adelita was oblivious to him making fun of her, everyone else surrounding them wasn’t. “Now you know you always tell me that but we both know you don’t mean it hear or at home.” Heat crept up your face and all you could do was hide your face in the crook of Rio’s neck. Rio slightly turned to kiss your forehead while fingering the bracelet he got you.

Once the glint of the bracelet caught Adelita’s eye she snatched your wrist from Rio. You didn’t mind though because you and Rio were off in your own little world. Not even the harsh stare from Angel could tear your eyes away from Angel.

“Ouch! What the fuck, Angel?” Adelita rubbed at her ankle. “My bad.” He frowned as Rio smirked at him knowing full well he was the intended target.

As the night went on, Rio’s and Angel’s antics went up. You don’t know what you did, but you had two petty kings arguing over you. And at times it was funny but also stressful.

The little innuendos concerning you flew over Adelita’s head but everyone else was getting them. They were getting so vicious that Coco and Gilly started another bet on who would swing first.

The event was concluding when things got downright ugly. Angel once again voiced his concerns of Rio dating you. Rio had enough and went for the low blow. “You’re just mad because I already took your girl and I’m about to take your city and your ring.”

Coco and Gilly’s bet was long forgotten as Angel went for Rio. “Don’t be mad, Reyes. I’m just spitting facts. If I’m wanna keep it hunnid, if I threw the right amount of cash, I could have your other girl too.”

“RIO!” You scolded him trying to pull him away. Thank god, Adelita was nowhere near to hear that little bit.

“Nah, babe fuck that.” Rio shrugged you off of him and stood toe to toe to Angel. “You ain’t on top no more big dawg. Get use to it.”

Angel just shook his head and turned around like a wounded animal. “Coco, give Gilly his money.”

“What?” Coco asks too late because Angel threw the first punch at Rio. And once they started fighting it was hard to get them to stop. Even Gilly couldn’t hold Angel. It wasn’t until you did something that they stopped.

Bishop tried to stop you once he noticed what you were attempting to do, but you slipped right past him. The boys were in between blows giving you the perfect opportunity to step in the middle of them. As soon as you became an obstacle each man lowered their fist.

Angel actually started to cower some when he saw your face. This was like your training face but a thousand times worse. Rio never saw you this pissed and he was beginning to get scared to breath the wrong way. Either way both men knew to shut the hell up.

Facing Angel first, you shoved him in the chest. “Angel Ignacio Reyes, I know you were raised better than this.”

“I’m sorry.” Angel mumbled, his eyes downcasted.

“And you!” You faced Rio, pointing a finger in his face. “I’ll deal with you when we get home.”

“Next time leave your petty bullshit for the football field.” You told the both of them before heading out without even waiting for Rio. 

Damn, you knew you should’ve stayed your behind at home.

Tagging: @tashawar​ @ourlittlesecretsoveragain​ @starrynite7114​ @sambucky8​ @mygirlrenee​ @richonne4life​ @readsalot73​ @chaneajoyyy​ @enamouravecleslivresetlechocolat​ @jassydwill11​ @otomefromtheheart​ @miss-nori85​ @xsweetdellzx​ @cocogodess15​ @ljstraightnochaser​ @my-rosegold-soul​ @angrythingstarlight​ @brattyfics​ @lovebennycolon​ @langiinspirations​ @chibsytelford​ @trulysuccubus​ @spookys-girl​ @sesamepancakes​ @literaturefeen​ @brownsugarcoffy​ @thesandbeneathmytoes​ @fvckthisbxtchup​ @theartisticqueen​ @vsfavs​ @tomhardydallasstarsgirl​ @angelreyesgirl​ @woahitslucyylu​ @marvelmaree​ @blessedboo​

[linkspooky]

Repress Your Feelings, Girl.

Toga and Uraraka can’t understand each other: because Toga can’t explain herself properly, and Uraraka doesn’t really want to understand. However, there’s also a narrative reason behind why these two characters are fighting each other. It has nothing to do with morality, good or bad, hero or villain, but rather the writing of the characters themselves. Toga Himiko and Uraraka are foils, two sides of the same coin meant to reflect each other. They are essentially (in narrative terms at least) the same person, just both of them expressing different sides of themselves. Uraraka Ochako represses, and Himiko Toga expresses herself, more on their foiling underneath the cut. 

Before I start out I just wanted to point out a few of the deliberate paralels the narrative draws between the two characters. First, the girls come from completely opposite circumstances. 

Uraraka comes from a poor family, whereas Toga comes from what seems to be a wealthy household, considering there’a a gate in front of their door. 

Typically Himiko would be the privileged one, but the narrative inverts this. Uraraka grows up in a household where her identity is affirmed by her parents no matter what. Himiko grows up in a household where she is constantly told she is wrong by her parents. 

Ochako is continually accepted for who she is, and Toga is told not to be herself, not only suffering parental abuse, but also psychiatric abuse on top of that. 

One more way in which they are opposites, Ochako is someone who tends to be sheltered (her parents did her best to hide the fact they were suffering from her because she didn’t want her to feel guitly about it, however it produced the opposite effect, Uraraka got better at reading the faces of people and noticing their suffering.)

Himiko on the other hand has grown up very unsheltered, she’s been on her own since middle school. There’s several hints she’s been exposed to the ugliest side of people already and spends her life running away from them and keeping herself safe from them. 

Himiko and Uraraka are both incredibly good at reading other people, but they developed this ability for opposite reasons. Uraraka who was sheltered noticed the pain her parents tried to hide from her and developed it compassionately, and Himiko who has been on the run for most of her life developed it as a method of survival. However, that doesn’t mean that Himiko is lacking compassion, or Uraraka always empathizes with everyone she meets, because both of them are complex individuals. 

Himiko is capable of empathizing with other people, not only that but she’s grown significantly out of her shell and learned that other people besides her have needs, feelings she needs to take care of, to the point where she’s stopped prioritizing herself first in all circumstances. On the other hand, Uraraka is just as capable of shutting her feelings down and ignoring the viewpoints of other people she finds disagreeable with her own. 

Uraraka and Toga are also both extremely social people, however all of Uraraka’s friends accept her for who she is. Deku knows Uraraka so well that he can tell when Toga, pretending to be Camie, is the one replacing her. Toga is someone who like Uraraka was always at the center of a group of friends tying her together. However, Toga could only present her fake self in front of them. 

1. The Repressed

Jung divides the self into three, the shadow, the persona, and then the ego (self) which is made of a combination of the former too. 

Persona

The persona is how we present ourselves to the world. The word "persona" is derived from a Latin word that literally means "mask." It is not a literal mask, however.

The persona represents all of the different social masks that we wear among various groups and situations. It acts to shield the ego from negative images. According to Jung, the persona may appear in dreams and take different forms. [source]

Shadow

The shadow is an archetype that consists of the sex and life instincts. The shadow exists as part of the unconscious mind and is composed of repressed ideas, weaknesses, desires, instincts, and shortcomings.

The shadow forms out of our attempts to adapt to cultural norms and expectations. It is this archetype that contains all of the things that are unacceptable not only to society, but also to one's own personal morals and values. [source]

My Hero Academia uses Jungian Symbolism, especially in regards to Himiko and Uraraka’s characters, this isn’t something I made up it’s directly in the text. Toga’s act of repression is literally called: wearing a mask. 

Toga and Uraraka are written to contrast each other on which part of themselves they present to the world. Uraraka is extremely conscious of other people’s expectations of her, so she plays up her persona. Uraraka is someone who is always putting up a show for others because she knows how they perceive her. 

Her own perceptiveness works against her, because while she loves seeing people happy the most she also can’t stand to see them in pain, or even be the reason why they’re in pain. Uraraka’s solution to this is a rather immature one, she believes if she’s good all the time, if she’s always this pleasant and happy person and never shares her problems then she won’t drag the mood down. 

Uraraka is conflict avoidant in other words. There are times she directly addresses the conflict like the times with Tsuyu, but even then it’s in a “We should all get along as friends” sort of way. Uraraka always pushes her feelings down and tries her hardest never to cause trouble for others. However there’s a line between trying not to hurt others, and simply pretending the conflict does not exist. 

The shadow is the part of ourselves we repress in order to play for other’s expectations. The persona is a performance, it’s the personality you perform every day. You would swear with a group of friends, but you wouldn’t swear in front of your grandparents. People hide parts of themselves depending on who they’re interacting with, personality is in part a performance to the expectations of others around you, that’s natural. Everyone will have a side of themselves they show to others, and a side of themselves they keep repressed. That’s natural. What is not natural is to be all one way or all the other. 

‘Man is not truly one, but truly two’ “Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.” 

The point of the shadow and the persona, is that both are true at the same time. You are both who you pretend to be, and what you hide of yourself. The persona is not fake just because it’s a performance, and the shadow isn’t the true self or all there is to you just because it’s hidden. However, the opposite is true at the same time, the persona is not all of who you are, and you can’t make your shadow go away just by repressing it. 

Psychological repression is not a healthy strategy for dealing with emotions. It doesn’t resolve emotions, it just makes them go away for a short time. One response to the presence of a shadow is to simply ignore it, but ignoring it will just make you ignorant. 

Uraraka views herself to be a good person, and views heroes to be good, but that belief hasn’t come from confronting the bad of society and deciding that heroes are still good anyway. Which is my point, not that Uraraka is wrong, but that she’s ignorant. She’s sheltered, naive, and her lived experience is so narrow she can’t realy make a judgement call on Toga that’s accurate. Like, just for exmaple heroes do in fact kill people. They even get excited about completely destroying villains. 

There are heroes who become heroes just to beat the shit out of villains, there are heroes who will try to kill villains, Tokoyami gets confronted with the fact that Hawks killed a villain and his first response is: You did nothing wrong, Hawks. Uraraka sees heroes as the ideal only ever saving people. Yes heroes save people. There are other heroes who are violent. It’s not one or the other, the truth requires acknowledging both at once. Uraraka’s point that she would never feel happy about violence is a false one, because she doesn’t know that for one, and two heroes are just as capable of violence as villains. 

The key point to repression is that it doesn’t work. 

Himiko already tried reperssing herself and it just drove her insane. The feelings don’t go away simply by pretending that they are not there. Even in a narrative sense, Uraraka’s shadow that she has repressed has escaped her in the form of Himiko and is running around constantly trying to challenge her and confront her to get her to acknowledge those feelings. The feelings will not go away, and Uraraka’s solution is to just keep putting a lid on them and pretending they are not there. It’s because she has such a tight lid on herself it makes her impossible to see things from Himiko’s point of view. 

Why is Uraraka supposed to understand things from Himiko’s point of view? Because Himiko is Uraraka, she’s all of her repressed flaws come to roost. Uraraka cannot change or improve as a person until she accepts both the best and worst of herself instead of just trying to always be good all the time. Understanding Himiko leads to a more gray and nuanced understanding of reality rather than the black and white: heroes good, villains bad. Himiko is a foil, a narrative device used to show the flaws of another character. 

Uraraka did nothing wrong / Uraraka is right. 

Well okay then, but Uraraka would be a pretty boring character otherwise. She’d just be a good girl who did good things all the time and always tried her hardest. I’m not trying to insinuate Uraraka is a bad person, I’m arguing in favor of her complexity. I think there is more to her character than just her trying to be a better hero, and getting stronger and learning to use her powers better. There’s an emotional complexity to Uraraka that she represses. 

Emotionally, Uraraka is similiar to Himiko because they both cope poorly in the same way. Emotional repression is unhealthy. Himiko has only two modes, repress everything or don’t repress anything and both of those extremes are bad. Uraraka is on the path to becoming Himiko, because the only way she knows how to deal with things is to shut her feelings off and as Himiko said that doesn’t work: it just drove Himiko insane. 

2. The Expressed

Himiko Toga is who she is in reaction to her trauma. Uraraka pushes herself down and tries to play to the expectations of others, and Toga asserts herself and tries to defy other people’s expectations. 

I’m actually going to blow everybody’s minds here though: Toga doesn’t actually want to murder people and suck their blood dry. It’s what she thinks she wants, but once again, she is who she is, in reaction to trauma. Toga was violently abused, Toga became violent, but it’s not who she is inherently. It’s who she thinks she is. 

Toga has internalize every bad thing every person has ever said about her. Toga not only foils Uraraka, she also foils Shigaraki. Toga has been convinced, that what she wants naturally, is to suck people’s blood, and kill them. The same way that Shigaraki has been convinced by AFO that he was naturally born with the urge to destroy others. 

These aren’t things that they have a natural inclination or desire to do, it was things they were told about themselves repeatedly. Shigaraki by AFO, and Toga by everyone around her. Even Toga’s initial incident of violence has a lot more in common with a psychotic break, then with you know, a pre-meditated murder that she did for pleasure. 

It’s not something Toga naturally did on her own, it was something she was pushed to do. Remember, Toga suffered twofold abuse. Abuse from her parents, but also psychiatric abuse. The people who were supposed to help her reconcile her quirk, and her unnatural tendencies didn’t try to heal her like they were supposed to. She was demonized by everyone around her, told what a bad girl she was constantly, not for anything she did wrong but because she was born naturally with a quirk. She tried to be good and smile for the sake of others, untils he reached a breaking point: then and only then did she lash out. 

Toga’s initial instant of violent wasn’t a pleasure killing. It was a lashing out due to a psychotic break, and it was because both of the systems in her life that were supposed to help teach her to learn to deal with emotions, quirk counselling this world’s version of child therapists, and her own parents, chose to demonize her and tell her to repress herself. 

However, children who are abused tend to internalize the words their abusers tell them. Children who are abused often believe they “deserve” their abuse because of their bad behavior. 

Now, I’m not trying to justify. I don’t think Toga Himiko is allowed to run around killing whoever she wants just because she was abused. My intent is to explain how her brain works. 

Toga Himiko doesn’t get to lash out as she pleased, but I think it’s important to understand that Toga’s lashing out is what makes her human. She’s not an inhuman monster, she’s a human reacting to circumstances. Most people exposed to ugly situations, react in ugly ways, and the few that don’t are the exception that proves the rule. 

My point being that Toga is not an insane monster that lusts for blood, she just believes herself to be one. The same way that Uraraka is wrong, Toga is also wrong at the same time.

Because as I said the above is right. Toga can’t live her life just lashing out. While it’s understandable, someone who has endured violence can’t keep lashing out violently forever. Toga’s choice to always lash out is just as unhealthy as Uraraka’s choice to always repress herself. 

Because Toga relies again and again on violence to vent her feelings, violence has become an inescapable part of her life. It’s also contrary to what she really wants. Toga thinks she wants violence, but the violence is just a reaction to the violent abuse.

Yes, Toga says all she wants is to drain people dry of their blood but characters are liars sometimes. 

Sometimes you can’t take a character at their word. Sometimes instead of reading something directly as stated line for line in the story you have to read between the lines. Toga says she wants to just kill people, but her internal thoughts contradict her.

What Toga needs is to be accepted, loved, and trusted like Uraraka is. That’s her deep internal desire that she states to herself when pushed to her absolute edge by Curious. What Toga thinks she wants is to drain the people she wants dry of their blood, so she can become them and live vicariously through them. What she thinks she wants is a life where she can do whatever she wants, and do as she pleases, in response to a life where she wasn’t allowed to do anything that she wanted. But, that again is a child’s idea of rebellion. It’s a response to her abuse, it’s not who she is. However, Toga’s personal development was forwarded not by killing people and draining them, but by the empathy and acceptance she showed towards Jin. 

There’s what she needs, what helps her develop into a more stable person, the empathy and care she shows to Jin. The acceptance Jin showed her in return. 

There’s what she thinks she wants, which is to just rebel against everything and always do what she wants in every single situation and accept no limitations on her personal desires. 

Toga is in fact just a normal girl, who wants to be accepted by the society at large, or at least find people who accept her. However, Toga doesn’t see herself as one, because she’s internalzied the idea that she’s the blood thirsty monster that everyone thinks she is. Which is why Toga contradicts herself. 

Toga in the same breath will say “I’m also a normal girl” and then “I’m a weird kid, I’m a weirdo, no one can understand me.” 

Toga cannot explain herself, because she’s wrong about herself. She’s making herself out to be a violent monster because that’s how she copes, the really really bad way she copes. It’s easier to be a violent monster, she’s more protected that way, then to be a runaway girl who’s just scared and alone. However, because Himiko can’t admit this, she also can’t explain herself to other people. She presents the monstrous version of herself and that’s all Uraraka can see. 

Neither Uraraka nor Himiko’s way of coping is sustainable. Uraraka cannot keep repressing herself forever, the same way Himiko cannot violently lash out forever. 

While what Uraraka says is very black and white, it’s not wrong. If HImiko is goign to live her life “Kill or Be Killed”, then she’s just as likely to end up being killed then she is to be the killer. There’s no happy ending to that kind of life.

However, there is no happy ending to Uraraka’s way of living either. Her perfectionist tendencies and her desire to only ever be good just aren’t going to work, because one a lot of bad things are going on already Uraraka just doesn’t see them, and two it’s not sustainable, Himiko was someone who held everything in too and look where that got her. 

Uraraka and Himiko’s talk failed because neither of them are capable of communicating right now. Uraraka can’t understand because she doesn’t try, and Himiko can’t explain herself because she also doesn’t try. 

Uraraka only sees what’s good about the world, about heroes. Himiko only sees what’s bad about the world, about heroes.  Uraraka sees the beautiful parts, Himiko embodies the ugliness. 

However they are both wrong because they are both short sighted. People are not just their shadows, and they’re not just their personas. They are both at the same time. 

A junagian shadow confrontation doesn’t end in a fight between good or evil. The shadow is not evil, the persona is not good. They are just two halves of the same person. Defeating a shadow does not make it go away. The shadow is something you have to learn to live with, the same way everybody on earth is flawed, and just tries to live every day working on their flaws the best they can.

The shadow is something that has to be reconciled.  Uraraka and Toga don’t have to defeat each other, they have to reconcile with one another. 

The narrative is pushing their reconciliaton because Toga and Uraraka both have what the other needs to grow. Uraraka is ignorant because she’s lacking experience. She hasn’t lived Toga’s experiences so she doesn’t understand her perspective. She doesn’t know, and she won’t know until someone explains it to her. However, saving as many people as possible means that Uraraka should also be open to trying to save people who react to abuse in ugly ways as well, because a person can be a victim and a villain at the same time. Uraraka will be a better hero if she’s able to see the flaws in her own society, because she’s a part of the next generation to reform society.

And Toga can’t become someone who is trusted by others if she’s violently lashing out all the time. The same way that Uraraka needs to see what’s bad about the world, Toga needs to learn to see what’s good about the world. The same way Uraraka needs to see both sides of the world, that of a villain girl and that of a normal girl. Toga needs to come to terms with herself, that she’s not a violent monster, but a normal girl. The only way she can stop lashing out and start actually taking responsibility for what she’s done and start on the path to self improvement is if she starts seeing herself as a person capable of improving. 

Toga wasn’t born this way she was made this way. She’s just a people, and people change. Toga can either try to change, or keep lashing out forever but at the moment she doesn’t even know that changing is an option for her. She thinks she’s going to be stuck as a monster forever because she was just born one. That’s why, Toga also needs Uraraka as much as Uraraka needs her. 

[hopelesshawks]

Official Accounts Part 30 (Bakugo Route)- The Past

Summary: (y/n) was perfectly happy remaining anonymous, even if her best friends were all pro heroes and she worked under THE Hawks. Handling the technical aspects of hero work from the background suited her just fine, thank you very much. That goes out the window when suddenly her twitter blows up thanks Denki and the famed no. 2 hero is asking her to run his own official twitter as a result

If you don’t want to see Official Accounts content blacklist #hopelessoa

Masterlist

You knock on Katsuki’s door and it opens almost immediately. “Sorry about this,” you tell him by way of greeting. “I already told you idiot,” Katsuki replies in the soft voice he’s always reserved just for you, “you’re always welcome at mine.” He closes the door behind you and then pulls you into a hug. “Do you wanna talk about it?” he asks. You think for a long moment. Do you? How do you even go about explaining what just happened between you and Hawks without revealing secrets that aren’t yours to share? But you deserve to talk this out too. “I do I just need a second to organize my thoughts,” you finally say. “Ok how about you take a seat on the couch, I can heat up ramen for you, then when I come back you can tell me all about it,” he offers. “Homemade ramen?” you ask. “Obviously, dumbass,” Katsuki says with a roll of his eyes as he gently removes himself from your arms and then pushes you towards the couch. “Now go sit down,” he insists. You nod and give him a small thanks before heading to his living room.

By the time Bakugo returns with the promised ramen you’ve wrapped a blanket around your shoulders and made yourself comfortable on the couch. You open your arms wide in a silent request for Bakugo to join you. Although he rolls his eyes as if put upon, it secretly makes his heart melt a little that you find comfort in his touch. He sits down careful not to spill the bowl he holds in one hand before passing it to you. He then pulls you closer until you’re almost in his lap and re-situates the blanket around you both. He’s missed this. You’ve always been very cuddly with all of your friends, but for awhile after you two broke up it felt like he’d lost his privileges. Even after you opened back up to him it was never quite the same. Sure when you were upset you knew you could rely on him, but the casual intimacy you shared with Denki and the rest of your friend group had been lost to Bakugo. It was only fair. That casual platonic intimacy was a little too close to the romantic intimacy the two of you had shared when dating. You’d thought it best not to indulge lest you fall back into old habits.

He still remembers the break up like it was yesterday even though it was almost 5 years ago now. It was only a year after graduating from UA. The transition from high school to working life had been hard on your relationship. Bakugo had grown accustomed to seeing you every day during lunch and you’d frequently come to the class a dorm after classes. To go from that to barely seeing each other because of your differing work schedules was hard enough on its own but it also threw his jealousy into overdrive. Suddenly seeing you and Denki curled up on your couch for a movie was enough to have him raging even though he logically knew there was no intent behind it. He was more irritable than usual, his already short temper getting even shorter. It felt like the few times you did get to see each other there was always an argument. Eventually you’d called him after work one day and simply sighed “We need to talk after your shift is over.” It hadn’t even occurred to him that you’d want to break up and yet when he arrived at your place you promptly told him that you feared the relationship was already sinking. Continuing it, you had argued, could do nothing but drag your friendship down with it. He wanted to say you were wrong so badly but he knew you weren’t. So the two of you had ended things, slogged through a few months of it being awkward, and eventually returned to a sense of normalcy in your friendship.

All of that said, Bakugo has never quite gotten over you.

It comes and goes in waves. Most days it’s just an ignorable, dull ache, only painful if prodded. Other days though? Other days the regret is almost overwhelming. Those are the days he calls Deku. The first time he did it was a week after the break up. He probably never would have if not for the fact he was damn near blackout drunk and sad and so very alone in an apartment filled with things that reminded him of you. He had barely talked to Midoriya since graduation, so Deku was understandably confused when he got the call. “I miss her so much,” Bakugo had slurred miserably down the line. It didn’t take a genius to know who he meant and Midoriya had quickly put two and two together that you and him had broken up. “I’m sorry,” was all Midoriya had time to say before Bakugo hung up the phone. That was supposed to be the only time. In fact Bakugo stubbornly refused to call him in the days following that initial call, despite being tempted to several times. Eventually though he caved. He needed to talk to someone about all this. Keeping it pent up was eating away at him but he couldn’t exactly talk to his usual friends about it when all of them were just as close with you. So Deku was his only option. Not only that but Deku was a good option. It didn’t matter how angry or upset Bakugo was, Midoriya was always patient and sympathetic. Sometimes they’d be on the phone for over an hour. Sometimes the call would be as brief as that fateful first one had been. Regardless, it helped. Soon enough the frequency of the calls started to dwindle until they stopped altogether.

Then Hawks asked you to run his Twitter.

At first it was fine. For all Mina’s jabbering on you seemed insistent you didn’t see Hawks that way. But then everyone else was getting in on the action as well and it all just spiraled from there. The night you went on your date with Hawks was Bakugo’s first time calling Midoriya in nearly a year. He texted the group chat confirming that Hawks getting shifts covered for you was indeed a big deal and then immediately afterwards was scrolling for Deku’s contact. You hadn’t dated anyone since Bakugo and while he knew it would happen eventually the reality hurt way more than all the hypotheticals he’d come up with over the years ever did. By now Midoriya knew the drill so he didn’t say anything when he answered the phone, just waited to see where Bakugo would take the conversation. He was not expecting an invitation to grab drinks.

It was odd seeing each other for personal reasons again after so many years. Their only interactions outside of the phone calls had been through work, a stark contrast to the crowded bar they now found themselves in. They started with awkward small talk, as one does with old friends they’ve barely seen, but eventually they started to really talk and Bakugo realized that all of those times he’d talked to Midoriya on the phone not once had he stopped to hear about his life. So he tried to make up for it then, even if it was a little too late. It was kind of nice. Maybe in another life where Bakugo had been a different kid, one who would’ve taken Midoriya’s hand when he fell, one who was a little less cruel, they could’ve been best friends. “So what happened with (y/n) this time?” Midoriya finally asked and it’s a question Bakugo had both wanted and dreaded to answer. “She’s going on a date with Hawks tonight,” Bakugo sighed. “Good for her,” Midoriya had noted and immediately Bakugo’s grip tightened around his drink. “You know it is good for her right?” Midoriya asked. “I know it is. That’s why it hurts so bad,” Bakugo admitted. It occurs to Bakugo now that perhaps that is why he’s been pushing Hawks to do better by you.

He knows intimately the pain of loving you and then losing you.

He wouldn’t wish it on anyone else.

So he listens to you recount your fight with Hawks. He listens with full attention until you run out of steam. When he gives you advice he gives it as a friend, not as an ex or as the man still in love with you. He gives you advice the way he thinks Deku would. He gives you the kind of advice you’d offer him if the situation were reversed. And it hurts and hurts and hurts to know his advice might push you back into Hawks’ arms, but when you pull yourself closer to him, sigh “Thanks Katsuki,” and then promptly fall asleep on his chest, he knows it’s worth it.

Because he loves you.

God, how he loves you.

Author’s Note: I BROKE MY OWN HEART WITH THIS ONE SO NOW YALL CAN BE HEARTBROKEN WITH ME. Anyway I adore the headcanon that Bakugo is a really good cook and I wanted there to be a slight parallel to how (y/n) and Hawks would have tea together but upon googling ramen recipes I realized it would be incredibly unrealistic for Bakugo to make homemade ramen in the time it takes (y/n) to get from her place to Bakugo’s. So instead he reheats what’s leftover from cooking dinner for himself, which I also googled to confirm was possible (it is you just need to make sure you store all the components separately). ALSO writing in Midoriya was a lot of fun. As much love as I think Midoriya and Bakugo have for each other I could very easily see them as being distant after graduation but still knowing they could reach out to each other if need be.

Taglist [open]: @maltese-sparrow @someweirdshitman @oliviasslut @captaincyberqueen @ladyzayismultifandom @pixelwisp @cathy8taffy @itskindofafairything @larkspyrr

[piracytheorist]

So I went down some t*rf tags the other day to find which blogs I should block, as you do, and of course in order to avoid accidentally blocking people who were mocking the ideology or sarcastically agreeing with it, I actually read the posts there and scrolled down some of the blogs.

And with some of the things I saw... it made me understand how they reel people in. In some of the stuff they said, I understood them. I understood their struggle, and their anger, and I got how their feelings could make them burst out the way they do in their blogs. Also the fact that many of the blogs I scrolled down and blocked were by women between the ages of 15 and 19 didn’t help. That’s the exact age where you do the most reckless, the most emotional, and the least experienced thinking. It’s when you think of something and immediately think you’re right, because you’re not developed enough, neither mentally, nor emotionally, nor from the aspect of life experiences, to know better and reflect on how well developed your thoughts are.

And to see them act the same way older t**fs do, like in the ages of 26+... it’s fucking scary. It genuinely feels like a cult, where teen women, frustrated with the misogyny they experience, come to a website to vent out their feelings about that and find passionate adult women agreeing with and supporting them and saying that they’re in the right to hate men and trans women... it solidifies their at then immature thoughts.

Like, give me one (1) cis woman who during her mid- or late teens didn’t hate men, even for just a few months, in reaction to being treated as lesser just for having a female body. Just one. I specifically did. I was, for a couple of years actually, believing the bullshit going around that “Girls are more mature than boys”, that “Girls love truly, boys only want sex”, that “Women are statistically smarter than men” etc etc. But then you grow up, you reflect on those thoughts and you go like “Damn older people are right when they say that teenagers do stupid stuff sometimes”.

And that’s the thing with being a teenager; it’s the time to do mistakes, it’s the time to screw up, to vent out your frustrations, and when you grow older and have more life experience, look back at how you used to think and say “Wow, cringe. Good thing I grew out of that.” Absolutely not saying that everything teenagers do is stupid, if anything, most people start discovering themselves at that age. But that’s it; it’s a start. And on that road you’ll make mistakes, you’ll reflect, you’ll change your mind, you’ll learn, you’ll grow. The things that you start connecting with as a teenager which you keep on in your adult life also change, in the way that you look at them deeper, you understand them differently... it’s like with favourite films. Any movie you love as a teenager and as an adult, you’ll have a different mindset on the two occasions. Even if it brings you back to those times, you still have developed and you see it in a different way. Both ways may be positive, or fundamentally similar, but they’re still different, maybe one is the evolution of the first; it’s still not 100% the same. Because you grew up. It’s kinda sad, in a way.

So the issue I have with indoctrinating young women into the t**f ideology from so early on, is that it’s an ideology based on hate. By saying that women are only those who experience misogyny, you’re basically normalizing misogyny and abuse, and averting the blame. You’re saying that it’s expected from men to be misogynistic, and that women should band together against the oppression... instead of looking into why men are misogynistic and looking how you can inspire change in that. It’s victim blaming, basically.

By saying that “trans women are not women because they don’t grow up experiencing the effects of misogyny and patriarchy on themselves” (in a way that’s bullshit but as a cis woman I can’t expand on that, read trans women’s stories instead), you’re putting the responsibility of erasing misogyny on trans women. And again, you’re normalizing the abuse, and you’re defining your gender by the abuse you went through.

Like, fuck no. I was bullied for more than half my school life. It has impacted me greatly, many of the emotional scars I carry them still, my character has been affected by the abuse I went through, but by fuck no does it define me. I choose to try to be kinder. I choose to see abuse as wrong. I choose to be an educator so that I can help bullying stop being a thing in the schools I’ll be teaching. And not because I feel ashamed, or that I pity children who are being bullied, but because I want to make this world a better place, because I believe in teaching the younger generation into not perpetuating any kind of hateful ideology.

That’s not what t**fs do. They just say they hate men and perpetuate the idea of female supremacy... as if women, even women who are privileged in every way other than having a female body, can never do wrong.

Like on one hand, they deify JKR who said that “I am not a victim, I do not pity myself and I’m growing out of my trauma strong” in a very, very victim-shaming way, and on the other hand they define their femininity on the fact that they’re victimized by the patriarchy. Make it make sense.

And in general, it is still an ideology based on hate. When you take a group of people that are struggling both on the inside (either through gender dysphoria or through the pressure of not feeling free to express themselves) and on the outside (either because they’re bullied if they act “out of the gender norm” or because of transphobia if they come out), and you hate on them, when you put the entire responsibility of erasing unrealistic expectations on beauty and appearance for women on that specific small group that’s in a fundamentally disadvantageous position... bro I don’t know what you call it, I call it targeting. You have your frustrations with the patriarchy and sexist men, and because those people won’t listen to you - mostly because they’re privileged and assisted in that by the system they create - and you take it out on a group of people that’s just trying to live their lives in a way that doesn’t hurt anyone.

Like, I saw someone being upset by people comparing t**fs to nazis because she’s Jewish and I’m like... how the heck can you not see the similarities? How can you grow up Jewish and not see that it’s wrong to target an entire group of people, massively hate on them, say that they “have an agenda” just because they want to be themselves and aren’t hurting anyone? How can you not see that cherry-picking the unkind or misled ones and defining the entire group by those few people is wrong?

In fact, how can you not see that “trans women are perpetuating Hollywood’s beauty standards for women” has the exact same basis as “immigrants of colour are stealing white people’s jobs”?

And you may say, “Lillpon, you’re doing the same with t**fs right now. You’re going out there and blocking them after having said you hate blocking people” and I’ll say, I am not hating on them. As I said, I’m scared by seeing how many of them are teenagers, but at the same time, it’s telling. It’s a cult-like mentality, it finds people who are frustrated with how they are treated, who feel wronged, who feel they’re in an unjust world, and it takes those feelings and targets it to one specific group or characteristic. For t**rfs, that’s the XY chromosome set. For neo-nazis, that’s non-Caucasian races. The whole “finding young people who are alone, who see that the world is unjust, who feel no-one listening to them and indoctrinating them to an ideology of hate” is point-blank exactly how neo-nazi groups work. Here is a very interesting TED talk on the matter by a former neo-nazi, if you’re interested.

Also, I never said I hate blocking people, or that I think it’s wrong. I just don’t think it’s something to be proud of, and in fact I’m not proud for blocking those people, I even feel a little guilty as I understand how many of them are just victims of indoctrination.

You’ll say, “But Lillpon, a lot of neo-nazis are spoiled, privileged white men! How can you know how privileged t**fs are??” And to that, I’ll turn communist and whisper in your ear, “The privileged are few. They’re the minority. And they depend on the lower classes fighting against each other so that people forget that it’s the privileged who make all the laws and standards that hurt all the lower classes.” To that extent, you can never, never know who truly hides behind the blogs and twitter accounts with “r*dfem lesbian” on their bio. There are many occasions, especially on twitter, where accounts that claimed to be queer poc were found out to be run by straight white men.

... So, who can guarantee that everyone running a blog with “r*dfem lesbian” on their bio is actually a cis, lesbian woman? And again, on its basis, it’s the same.

Neo-nazism is putting the blame on people of colour; that not only causes a rift between neo-nazis and poc, but also between neo-nazis and white people who oppose them. It’s in fact a pawn so that the white people in power - the people who are responsible for the problems poc and lower class white people face - can avoid having everyone against them. They give poc and less-racist lower class white people a scapegoat.

T**f ideology is putting the blame on people born in male bodies - absolutely no matter what their character is. Again, that causes rifts between t**fs and cis men, t**fs and trans people, and t**fs and cis women who support trans rights. Instead of focusing on seeing how we can stop cis men from being sexist - which of course will inconvenience the men in power who rose so high because misogyny is holding women back - we’re fighting against each other. It’s again, a pawn, a scapegoat, to distract us from blaming the one who’s truly to blame.

If anything, if you’re a t**f, the fact that what you do is helping the white men in power - because absolutely nothing you or your friends can do can affect them in a negative way - should be a reason by itself to not be a t**f. But what do I know.

[bonjour-rainycity]

The Long Way Around ~ Chapter 12

Link to previous part: https://bonjour-rainycity.tumblr.com/post/624109035977949184/the-long-way-around-chapter-11

Pairing: Jasper x Reader

Word count: 2621

Warnings: This might slightly push the ‘T’ rating, so be warned (language and adult themes). 

Jasper's POV

Weeks pass in routine. Mornings are reserved for desensitizing Y/n to human blood and improving her control, and afternoons are for exploring her ability. Nights are for us. After a long day, it’s nice to retreat to one of our rooms or the basement and enjoy each other’s company without any distractions. I would love to show her more of the forest, or take her back to the waterfall, but the threat from the unknown vampire looms. Edward, Bella, and Emmett caught the scent one day and chased it nearly two hundred miles south. But just like last time, the trail completely disappeared. It’s worrying. If I had it my way, Y/n would spend the entire day working on her ability and we would wait to improve her blood lust until after the unknown vampire had been dealt with. But she insists that both are equally important and won’t be convinced otherwise.

She smiles at me from the recliner across the living room, having seen my gaze turn to her. I smile back, contemplating joining her in the chair. But before I can act on my decision, Emmett comes bounding into the living room.

“Carlisle and I want to hunt but we need one more vampire to make the minimum group of three.” He smacks his lips, looking around the living room excitedly. “Any takers? Babe?” He runs over to Rosalie and gives her braid a tug. She swats his hand away, but there’s a soft smile on her face.

“No thank you. I went this morning with Esme and Alice, remember?”

Emmett frowns, nodding. “Oh yeah. Anyone? C’mon.”

From here, I can see Y/n’s eyes making the transition from red to black. Her control has gotten so much better, she could probably go a few more days. But why let her suffer?

I stand up, closing my laptop and placing it on the table beside me. “Yeah, I’ll go. Y/n?”

“Sure,” she smiles easily, taking my outstretched hand. It always amazes me how, when I offer my hand, she takes it without hesitation. Without fear that I will suddenly turn into the monster I was made to be. Her emotions show no fear, no worry, no apprehension. Just affection. And comfort. And trust. I recognize then, the privilege I have to be the recipient of those feelings and the woman offering them. I kiss the side of her head, and I feel her emotions shift towards tenderness.

Carlisle meets us then, and we take off into the woods. As is usual recently, we’re careful to stay close to home. It makes the game a little less satisfying, but for now, it’s a trade-off we’re willing to make. We still don’t know where the mystery vampire is, what her motivations were for harming Esme, or if she plans on coming back to finish the job. So, we’re cautious.

Once we’re about twenty miles from the house, we smell a pack of coyotes. Emmett takes off at the same time Y/n does, and they jokingly fight over their prey. After ruffling her hair, Emmett lets Y/n go to the right to track the coyotes and have her pick of the kill. I watch her as she runs off, nothing but excitement and exhilaration emanating from her. When Emmett sees me smiling at him, he rolls his eyes.

“I’m just holding out for a bear.”

I snort. “You’re gonna have to go a little farther out for that.” Then we smell a herd of deer, and decide to let that satisfy our thirst for now.

I concentrate on my own hunt while keeping a careful monitor of Y/n’s emotions, not wanting to be completely unaware of her. I’m about to take down a deer when I feel the shift in her emotions. Curiosity, confusion, and strong desire. I pause, not sure what to make of this. Maybe she stumbled across a something new like a mountain lion?

But then I feel her fear, and, before I even consciously decide to, I’m sprinting towards her.

Vaguely, I register Carlisle and Emmett’s confusion, but that doesn’t matter. What matters now is getting to Y/n. The closer I get, I hear snarls. Dread pools in my stomach. There’s definitely more than one vampire awaiting me. I steel myself, preparing for a fight.

A high pitched, pained scream that I know all too well pierces the air. I push myself to go faster. The sounds of hurried footsteps are added to the mix as Carlisle and Emmett, alerted to the problem, rush to help. A thinning in the trees reveals a situation that, despite my years of battle and training, sends a hot rod of panic straight through me. Y/n is pinned beneath two vampires, and she’s struggling to get free. As is usual for newborns, she fights with her strength and instincts, ignoring strategy. All three snarl wildly, and Y/n catches the bigger vampire in the face with her hand, the crack echoing for miles. He hollers in pain, and I wonder if she put her ability behind the hit, making him feel more than he would from just getting slapped. I feel a burning anger from him, and he lunges forward, biting deep into her forearm. Y/n cries out, right around the same time that I find myself snarling with a fury that surprises me. It’s then that the other two notice my presence, and the female is distracted long enough for Y/n to flip her and wriggle free.

But she doesn’t run to safety, as I would expect.

Instead, she runs towards.

Towards the dead, bleeding human that I somehow just noticed.

“Y/n, no!” But she doesn’t respond to my plea. The male vampire grabs one of Y/n’s legs and yanks, pulling her back when she’s mere inches from her prey. I feel her outrage, her fury, her thirst.

By now, I’ve arrived at the scene and can enter the fight. It’s essentially one against three, as I’m trying to eliminate the two unfamiliar vampires and subdue Y/n. And it makes it even more difficult that, the entire time, the smell of human blood threatens to overwhelm my senses. It makes it infinitely more difficult that all three vampires before me are consumed with bloodlust. It would be so easy to give in. So easy to get rid of them all and take the kill for myself. These instincts, older, deeper, less civilized, threaten to resurface. But a piercing scream from Y/n as one of the two gets another bite in brings me back. Somehow, I manage to focus on the situation before me instead of the blood. I can’t explain it. My focus is just shifted elsewhere.

Thankfully, Carlisle and Emmett arrive then and quickly get a grip of the situation. I grab Y/n around the waist, pulling her hands behind her back and holding her tight against my chest. I send waves of calm and lethargy to her, hoping it’s enough to subdue her and allow her come back to herself.

“Stop breathing, it’s alright. Carlisle!” At my call, Carlisle rushes to my side. “Hold her like this and take her as far away as you can.” Carlisle nods and takes Y/n from me, who now looks and feels thoroughly confused. Then, the pain breaks through, and she whimpers. I want nothing more than to run to her, comfort her, figure out how to take her pain away. But Emmett can’t hold the vampires by himself much longer, and I don’t want to risk Y/n re-joining the fight. So I push down my instincts telling me to scoop her up and run far away, and instead, hurry to join Emmett.

Between the two of us, we make quick work of the other vampires.

“Based on the scent, that’s who attacked Esme.” Emmett gestures to the pile of body parts belonging to the female.

I toss him a lighter from my pocket. “I’ll send Carlisle back to help you. I-I’ve gotta check on Y/n.” Now that the focus of battle is fading, I’m beginning to feel a bit frantic. I need to see her, touch her, make sure she’s alright.

Emmett nods seriously, waving me off. “Go.”

It takes me nearly ten minutes to reach them, despite my speed. Thankfully, Carlisle had taken me seriously when I asked him to get her as far away as possible.

Y/n sits on the ground, taking shuttering breaths. Carlisle crouches next to her, holding her forearm gently in his hands as he turns to spit venom onto the ground. When she sees me, Y/n shoots up and runs to pull me in a hug.

“Jasper, I’m so sorry, I-”

I cut her off, cupping her face and kissing her forcefully, desperately. I’m just so glad she’s safe.

I pull back, stroking her hair and bringing her into a hug once again. “You’re okay.”

Carlisle meets us then, patting me on the back.

I nod at him, unable to accurately communicate my gratitude. But he just nods back, understanding. “I’ll go help Emmett.”

Y/n’s sharp intake of breath reminds me of the pain she’s still in, and it brings a growl to my throat.

She chuckles sardonically. “I can take away others’ pain, but not my own. Ironic.”

Ignoring her attempt at a joke, I tilt her head, examining the bite in her neck. It’s deep. As with earlier, my anger surprises me, and I urge myself to calm down. You’ve seen wounds like this a thousand times before, relax. It’ll hurt and scar, but she’ll be fine in the long run. I pull back slightly so I can stretch out her arms and check for more bites. She shakes her head.

“They didn’t get me too bad. Just a bite on my neck, my arm, and on my left leg.” She huffs, her grip on my hand tightening. My eyes fall to her leg so I can assess that bite. “I don’t know how you do it. Just these three are killing me, and you barely flinched when I got you.” She grimaces.

“Well,” I move her head once more to get a look at her neck. Of the three, this is by far the worst. “You’ll get used to it the more it happens, though the goal is for it to not happen again.”And I will do everything in my power to make sure it doesn’t happen again. “Can I?” I gesture to her neck, meaning to suck the venom out.

She nods. “Please. Carlisle got the one on my arm, I think. That one doesn’t sting anymore.”

When my lips make contact with the tender skin, she sucks in a breath.

“Sorry,” I murmur, pulling back.

“No it’s okay.” She tilts her head once more. I try again, slower this time, and she holds carefully still. The venom is bitter, but the fact that I can taste it means it hasn’t fully begun circulating through her system, and that’s good. Once I’ve gotten out all I can, I smooth some of my own venom over the wound in an effort to help it heal faster. Then, I kneel and do the same to her leg. When I’ve finished, she seems a lot more relaxed.

“Thank you,” she pulls me up and kisses my cheek, and I can’t help the shy smile that spreads across my face.

“Anytime.”

But then, her mood sours. “I’m sorry I started a fight and put you all in danger.”

I shake my head forcefully. “It’s not your fault. That whole situation was a loaded powder keg. The aggressive vampires, the hunting…the human….”

She looks at the ground, feeling guilty. “I almost tasted human blood.”

“But you didn’t.”

She pulls out of my arms, putting her head in her hands. “Only because you stopped me! All that training we’ve been doing…it all went out the window the minute I smelled real human blood.”

Once again, I shake my head. “I honestly think this was a special case. The training you’ve been doing is for everyday situations; school, town, traveling. Normal, human activities. This situation was all vampire. The fact that you were already hunting and using your senses and instincts means that coming across a human would almost certainly mean their death. That would be true for any of us. Vampires are at their most dangerous when hunting and when in a fight. You were in both at the same time, so it makes perfect sense that your reasoning couldn’t override your instincts. And the simple fact that you didn’t use your ability to put me or Carlisle on the ground when we grabbed you shows how far you’ve come.”

She gives me a disbelieving look, but I can tell by her mood that my words have calmed her.

“Y/n.” Her eyes soften, and she takes my outstretched hands. “I promise.”

She puts a hand on my neck and pulls me down for a kiss. The feel of her lips against mine sparks a terrifying thought.

I almost lost her.

Fuck.

I grab her, desperately, and she responds in kind. I don’t know who pushes who, and really, it could’ve been either of us, but we’re soon tangled on the ground. I pull her closer against me, a nearly impossible task. She deepens the kiss and wraps her legs around my waist. I move my lips to her neck, careful to avoid her bite, and she lets out a sound that sets every nerve I have on fire.

But then I hear another, much less pleasing noise.

I hear approaching footsteps, and lift my head just in time to growl at the vampires entering our line of sight.

“Well, looks like you two recovered nicely.” Emmett’s smile is amused, and he sends a teasing wink our way.

Y/n rolls her eyes, and I stand, pulling her with me. I would be lying if I said that steadying breaths and thoughts of baseball weren’t a necessity.

“Oh no, please continue,” Emmett grins, his sarcasm shining through. “Get your make-out on while Carlisle and I take care of cleaning up the mess and lighting the fires. We know who’s really doing the dirty work.”

Y/n furrows her eyebrows, confused. “The fires?” Then, it hits her. “Oh. Right. They’re dead, then.”

She looks like she might be sick, which is a feat for a vampire. “And the human?”

Carlisle joins us then, pausing before Y/n and assessing. “Dead before we even got there. It seems the other vampires had brought the human into the woods, and when they killed him and spilled the blood, that alerted you.”

Y/n nods too quickly, taking a shuddering breath. “Got it.” She tries to apologize again. “I’m sorry you guys had to risk yourselves and…you know.” She trails off, though her meaning is clear.

“Don’t give it another thought,” Emmett assures. “We’ve done it before, and we’ll do it again.”

I rub her back, something I’d done previously that seemed to help calm her down. Thankfully, it has a similar effect this time.

“We should be getting home,” Carlisle reminds us. “The others will be worried.”

With that in mind, we hurry on our way. Before we reach the house, I can feel the tension and fear. Shit.

“Carlisle, something’s-”

“We’ve got a problem,” Alice meets us on the outskirts of our property, Arthur glued to her side and examining the surrounding forest. Alice fixes us with a somber look. “The vampires you killed had some friends. And they’re coming here.”

A/n Ooooh, sorry for that little cliffhanger! Let me know what you thought and if you would like to be added to the tag list! Also, if I opened requests, would anyone be interested? Also ALSO, drop a description of your personality in my inbox and I’ll tell you what I think your vampire ability would be. Much love <3

xx, 

Bjr

Next part: https://bonjour-rainycity.tumblr.com/post/624936041495822336/the-long-way-around-chapter-13

Tag list: @puer-de-infinitate @charliestuff @hindustani-diaspora @one-thread-can-save-a-life @salsameter @enchantedcruelsummer @meashy-moo @sana-li @femflorals @80strashbag @tomisbaeholland @heyimval13 @triscuitcracker

[thedupshadove]

Scooby Doo Idea

Okay. The Gang were friends in high school, and while they all (with one notable exception. Stay tuned.) went to different colleges, they stayed in touch. They had had sort of an amateur investigative service running back in school, so when they all got out of their respective post-high-school obligations and realized that they all had no immediate plans (and privately, each of them realized that they all had emotional damage that made them reluctant to just go do adult life), they decided to take their investigative skills on the road, mostly as an excuse to semi-drop-out of society. Hey, it’s 1970. These things happen. But then, wherever they go they keep bumping into things that really do need solving. (“But where did they get the money for the van?” Daphne. “But all the food they have to buy--” Daphne. “But most people probably don’t pay them once their mystery gets solved--” Daphne. Daphne hasn’t even come into her inheritance proper yet, but her trust fund alone could buy Switzerland for cash.) Again, we are not trying to make this take on the series “modern” or “interesting” by having the characters constantly be at each other’s throats. They genuinely care about each other (and because this is me, will have settled into a full-on polycule before the series is over). It’s just that they all have,  from various sources, considerable emotional damage that they need to do their best to work through. (But we’re gonna do our best not to let them be defined by their damage. They still have [variants on] the personalities we know and love from the old cartoons.)

Norville “Shaggy” Rogers: As high school came to a close, he wasn’t really sure what he wanted to major in at college...and then Uncle Sam called, and he never got a chance to decide, because it was 1966 and the war was hungry. After three years of Hell, he got shot in the shoulder just badly enough to qualify for a discharge home, where he spent the next year failing to shake it off. Luckily for him, he’s blessed with a fairly supportive, understanding family, but still, he’s been through things no teenager should have to, and he’s been left with scars far deeper than the one in his left shoulder. (Note to self: get as accurate a picture as possible of actual PTSD symptoms. Yes, he has nightmares, and yes, there may be the occasional flashback, but we need more than just those two cliché things. Let’s see, what do I already know? Well, he gets protective of people he cares about, he’s generally kind of nervous and jumpy [as is the standard for this character, but now with more of a concrete reason], his huge appetite may partially be a reaction to memories of starving in the jungle; now that food is plentiful, he eats, because he can’t entirely convince his subconscious that it’s going to stay plentiful. And for all his cowardice, when things get bad, I mean really bad, he slips into a sort of...detached competence. A fugue-like, hyper-focused calm in which he knows exactly what to do, and will put all his energy into seeing it done.) However, as I said, none of these people are entirely defined by their damage. When he’s calm, or at least comparatively calm (which sometimes comes with the help of pot) there shines through a caring, empathetic, gentle man with a surprisingly deep wisdom and a laid-back sense of humor. Also, in addition to his voracious appetite, he’s an excellent cook, and putting his energy into cooking is one of the things that can help calm him down after his symptoms get bad, and generally be a thing in his life that helps him heal. In addition to this, during his Year Of Failed Recovery, his uncle, who had a similarly hard time recovering after World War Two, suggested that he get a dog, advice which Shaggy took, which brings us to…

Scoobert “Scooby” Doo: What you need to understand about Scooby in this version is...he’s a dog. He’s very intelligent...for a dog. He’s very helpful in dangerous situations...for a dog. He’s surprisingly good at communicating with humans...for a dog. But he doesn’t talk, and he is not supernatural in any other way. He’s a dog. Nevertheless, he serves an important role in the group, not least of which is as Shaggy’s (though he’s never officially called this, as I believe the phenomenon was not a recognized as a medical phenomenon in 1970) emotional support dog. Like most dogs, he’s good at sensing what mood his people are in, and Shaggy is his people (and so are the others, eventually), so even though the actual training that emotional support animals get today didn’t exist for him to get, he can tell when Shaggy is in a particularly upset mood, and offer comfort. In addition, having an animal to care for gave Shaggy one more means of grounding. Plus, it doesn’t matter how well-planned your criminal scheme is, or how dedicated you are to it, if a big fuckoff Great Dane comes charging at you full-tilt, you’re gonna move. Most of his usual cowardice is probably gone in this version; in fact, if he feels that his people are in danger, he will not hesitate to square up and fight.

Frederick “Fred” “Freddie” Herman Jones: His father wanted a strong son; an athlete; the golden All-American boy...and he got it, by Hell or high water. Genuine interest in his son as a person? Willingness to support unconventional hobbies? Any affection given without Fred “earning” it by living up to one of the many standards of “manliness”? Naaaaaaaahhhh. Which was a problem, because Fred showed early on that he had little natural inclination towards what his father wanted him to be. His interests lay in painting, a particular breed of fashion, and mechanical things (and not the car kind.) Well, Papa Jones didn’t want any egghead or sissy for a son, and his efforts to “correct the problem” were, by most estimations, excessive. The man had a fast and furious temper. (And Mom died when Fred was very young, far too soon to do anything to counteract Dad’s influence) So Tiny Freddie learned to lie and suppress and play his part, and he played it so well that it couldn’t help become genuinely part of who he was (and, because children are children no matter what their parents are like, the praise he got when he finally lived up to his father’s standards warmed his little heart in a way he couldn’t control, even as he hated how much he had to hide), but through it all, he kept up his true self in secret,  as much as he could, scheming and planning and hoping for the day when he could leave home and leave his father’s ideals behind. And he got into college (he got his father to accept an engineering major with only minimal cold disdain by pointing out all the possible connections to construction) and started trying to shed all of his father’s influence...only to find that he couldn’t, entirely. If you ask him point-blank, he will say that he knows his father was wrong and he’s not ashamed of his true self or his true interests, but getting out from under a lifetime of abuse is never that easy. After 18 years of being glared at and derided and shouted at and hit every time he did something “Poindextery” or “girly” or “weak”, the inner voice that does the same is something he has to face down and banish almost constantly. And as I said, some of the All-American Boy affect has just become part of who he is. His healthiest self, when he can find it, is the best of both worlds, with the gregarity and leadership skills of the Golden Boy combined with true embrace of the artist and inventor he is.

Velma Dace Dinkley: Her home life during childhood was just fine. The trouble came when those pesky peers showed up. She was short, and serious, and academic, and plain, and wore big thick glasses, and so she did not get along easily with the other children. She took things seriously, so when they teased, she took that very seriously, and lashed out, which only ostracized her more. Eventually, she buried the rage the only way she could: under layer upon layer of academia, forced apathy, and prickly snark. But underneath that, she was lonely. She didn’t feel lovable, or wanted, and she was frustrated by her inability to fix whatever it was that was wrong with her. Not that she was willing to admit any of this to herself, except in the dark and still of her bedroom at midnight. Who knows just how isolated she might have become if she hadn’t fallen in with the Gang during high school. As it is, she’s cynical, has a hard time dealing with or admitting to her own emotions, and is extremely distrustful of overt kindness or friendliness (the Gang get a pass on this because she knows them well, but if a stranger starts being noticeably nice to her, out come the quills.) She is, however, scary-smart. Smart enough to get PhDs in English and History in the time it took Fred and Daphne to get their Bachelors. And sometimes, when she’s around friends and feels safe, that clever, biting wit can be used for good, instead of to push people away “before they have a chance to hurt her”.

Daphne Anne Blake: What you have to understand is that the Blake family is rich. Wildly rich. Unimaginably rich. No, richer than you’re picturing. No, double that amount. No, on second thought, square it. The other thing you have to understand is that they have been this rich for slightly longer than America has existed as a political entity. So growing up a Blake certainly comes with privileges that most children can only dream of, but it also has its drawbacks, chief among which is that you will never, for one second, be allowed to forget that you are A Blake. And such was Daphne’s childhood. Grace, deportment, beauty, all the skills of a lady, perfection. Never a hair out of place, never a stain on that dress, never a sour note, never an uncouth word or gesture, don’t frown, dear, it wrinkles your forehead, but don’t laugh to hard, it puts lines around your mouth, and don’t you dare fall off that horse. After high school, she went on to Harvard for a B.A. in Psychology, because it’s important for even girls to be properly educated. And it’s all left her a scant hop skip and a jump away from being a nervous wreck. She needs everyone to like her all the time, she needs to look perfect, she needs to be perfect. But at least on some level, she doesn’t want to need to be perfect. She wanted to be able to relax, wanted to let her hair down, wanted to find an identity outside of being A Blake. Lucky for her, she’s the youngest of a large co-ed brood, and her parents suddenly decided that it was chic to have a child who was being slightly rebellious. So as long as she doesn’t get her name in the papers in a negative way, or overspend her allocated trust fund (which would be an impressive feat), they’re perfectly happy to titter at parties about how their youngest daughter is off roaming the country with her strange little friends. As to her quest to find herself outside of her family, it has and hasn’t succeeded. She’s mostly managed to reject generational snobbery and extend her gracious manners to one and all, but sometimes without thinking about it (or sometimes on purpose when they need it for a case) she slips into The Manner Born. And it’s been a long hard process puzzling out how much of the infinite lessons she can keep and use for good, and which she must discard. (For example, she’s certainly in no hurry to abandon her taste for the finer things in life, and if you’re going to make a life out of chasing down criminals, there are worse things than being a trained fencer.) No matter what she does, she’s always going to be a lady. She just hopes to become a true gentlewoman, rather than the paradoxical people-pleasing snob her parents were raising. Her biggest progress has come in the form of letting go of any residual feelings of superiority, and becoming less and less afraid to have and state her own thoughts and opinions, no matter who does and doesn’t agree with them. She’s working on that. Slowly.

Relationships

So, like I said, the endgame here is a full-on, everybody x everybody else poly situation. But even though they (eventually) think of themselves as a foursome, with no one pairing getting any precedence but rather the four of them being a group, it is true that within that group, there are six pairs, and each individual pair is strong enough that (if I may be morbid) if any two of them died, the remaining two would stay together. So here is a summary of each of the pairs.

Fred/Daphne: Ah, the classic pair. It’s a cliché, perhaps, but they really do have plenty to bond over.They both struggle with the weight of parental expectations, they both have a flair for personal style, and heaven knows they look good together. They spend a lot of time talking to each other and helping each other with the problems that come from their parents’ respective demands, but they also have a lot of fun enjoying together the more “preppy” things that Shaggy and Velma don’t like so much.

Shaggy/Velma: The other cliché, mostly a result of pairing the spares. However, it has its legitimate reasons to exist as well. Their senses of humor complement each other; Shaggy’s more overt clowning works well with Velma’s snark. As the two more “alternative” members of the gang, they also make sense as a couple in public. Shaggy’s earnestness, empathy and sillieness can help get past Velma’s shell, and her no-nonsense practicality can often help to calm his nerves.

Daphne/Velma: The third most popular pairing (or possibly even the second, however much I might want to kid myself about the ubiquity of my childhood OTP). On some level, Velma may be put off by (and might also envy) Daphne’s beauty and grace, but she can’t help but also be drawn to it, and be constantly delighted to find the intelligence underneath. Daphne, for her part, loves Velma for her intelligence, and is amazed by her forthrightness and assertiveness. In addition, Daphne has decided that Velma’s low estimation of her own desirability is unacceptable, and has taken it upon herself to shower her with all the attention she should have been getting all these years. She’s been put on enough pedestals of her own to know how to construct one for someone else, and has thrown herself wholeheartedly into singing “Dulcinea” under Velma’s metaphorical window. Velma’s reaction to this is...complex (which is to say, she would like to just let herself enjoy it, but can’t entirely shut off her reflexive cynicism).

Fred/Shaggy: They don’t always talk very much, but that’s okay. They enjoy the quiet. Shaggy appreciates having a leader-type around, and Fred takes comfort in Shaggy’s utterly accepting nature.

Fred/Velma: In some ways, they can get competitive, but it’s never vitriolic. It’s just that she’s never been one to hide her light under a bushel, and Fred’s reaction to how impressed he is with her is to want to impress her by trying to match up to her, and she respects him enough to not talk down to him or slow up so he can catch up, and so it spirals. She shows more and more skill at investigating and figuring out who the culprit is; he refines his plans and traps more and more. That’s why it so often seems ambiguous whether Fred or Velma is the leader; they’re sparring over the title.

Daphne/Shaggy: Well, he can’t help but be a little awed that such an obvious princess is into a guy like him. And he’s so unlike the boys shes used to that she can’t get enough of him. Their differences only make them stronger. And with her Psychology degree, she may be the one most equipped to actually help him with his symptoms. No, she’s not a therapist, but at least she knows the technical terms for what’s happening, and may have a list of possible treatments. And she revels in how few expectations he has.

@scoobydooservicedog You’re getting tagged because part of this relates to what you do (and because you seem cool and I kinda want to know what you think) 

[crossdressingdeath]

(1/3) It always amuses me how stans try to justify JC actions by his abusive upbringing while there were 3 children in that family and both others turned very kind and/or very moral and not at all like JC (and frankly, he didn't even have the hardest position in the dysfunctional dynamic). Or LXC and LWJ whose upbringing was even more screwed up with a LQ who was certainly playing favorites and wanting perfection, and yet this never draw a wedge between them or created any jealousy.

(2/3)LXC loves for LWJ to excel! Same with "but JC had it so hard rebuilding Lotus Pier, WWX was goofing off with the Wens"...JC was paying people to do that for him, yes, while WWX was trying to start from scratch a settlement over a mountain of corpses with a bunch of weak or old people and not to die of hunger comes winter. While separated from all his friends and hated as a monster by the cultivation world. "But JC was so lonely during the 13/16y, so that justifies him lashing out" And WWX

(3/3) was dead, killed by his brother and thinking that there was not a person left on his side in the end, and yet, that didn't make him act like a dick? Or athg else really, because everything that JC went through in the past, WWX did also, but in a worse way because he lost his parents young, lived in the streets, didn't have JC societal privilege or money and has to harness an unstable necromancy practice on top of that. And yet no one uses it as arguments to explain his actions, only for JC 

Honestly? While none of the Jiang kids were in a good position, out of the three of them... JC did have it the easiest. It was still awful for him, don’t get me wrong, I’m not suggesting his childhood didn’t suck, but given it was made very clear to JYL that her only purpose was to be married off to JZX so her mother could tie her bloodline to her best friend’s and WWX was treated like a servant at best... Yeah. If I had to pick, I’d choose having a distant father and dealing with a mother who’s constantly emotionally abusive over having a distant father and dealing with a mother who’s constantly emotionally abusive and being treated like a bargaining chip/treated like a servant and/or bastard and being whipped for actions that would get the rest of the clan a lecture at worst. Again, I’m not saying JC didn’t have it bad, but his siblings having it worse is... interesting, given neither of them decided to be dicks to Literally Everyone over it.

I do have to say, even though this is about JC, there’s nothing suggesting LQR was playing favourites with LXC and LWJ. He was strict, yes, probably stricter than he should’ve been, and LXC probably did get more one-on-one interaction with him, but given LXC was going to be sect leader/became sect leader at a young age that makes sense. This is not super important to the point of this post, but I do find it odd how often people make LQR out to be this horrible person who’s always awful to his nephews because he’s Strict when we... don’t actually know anything about how he raised them. I don’t like him all that much, and he probably didn’t do a fantastic job of raising them, but the man did try, and he clearly wants his nephews to be safe and happy (even though he has inaccurate views of what that entails...), and given how the parents/parental figures of the cast generally act he deserves some credit for that. Also the Twin Jades ended up considerably better-adjusted than most of their age group, which... isn’t saying much all things considered but it does say something. If nothing else neither of them seem to feel actively unsafe around him, so he’s definitely not the worst parental figure in this novel.

...I had a surprising number of thoughts on LQR there. Whoops, sorry about the tangent. Maybe I’ll make a post about him at some point. Anyway, yeah, LXC and LWJ clearly adore each other! LXC would be delighted if LWJ surpassed him at something! Same with Nie bros; they argue a lot, but there’s no denying that they love each other. That’s what insults and threats out of love look like; NMJ threatens NHS all the time, but NHS clearly isn’t all that bothered by it until JGY starts fucking with NMJ’s mind and the threats become more serious, which really isn’t NMJ’s fault. It’s because in the other sibling relationships both parties are invested in staying close. They love each other and want to be close for the rest of their lives! Meanwhile JC is obsessed with WWX outperforming him at Literally Everything, and WWX genuinely believes that JC is allowed to treat him the way he does and it’s fine and healthy.

And yeah, JC wasn’t exactly rebuilding Lotus Pier all by his lonesome with his own two hands. In fact, going by what we see all the rebuilding was done well before WWX left! And I don’t doubt for a second that WWX was involved in that process; I have very mixed feelings about the scene in CQL where he blows off his duties to go and get drunk, because on the one hand it does do a good job of showing just how bad his mental state is getting (and how JC refuses to acknowledge it despite WWX obviously being Not Okay), but on the other hand... I just can’t see WWX not throwing himself into helping JC with everything he’s got even while his mental state is coming crashing down around him. I mean, this is the guy who created an incredibly powerful weapon that even he couldn’t fully control, not knowing what using it would do to him, to help his brother win a war. I’m pretty much certain that WWX ran himself into the ground helping JC rebuild and run the sect... then when he found himself in charge of a small group of desperate people, scrambling to keep them fed and clothed and healthy, JC just abandoned him to deal with it on his own.

And the whole “Oh, but JC was so lonely, don’t you feel bad for him?” shtick. I hate it so much. If he didn’t want to be lonely, he should’ve considered that before alienating everyone in his age group and leading an army to murder his brother, the only person left who was willing to put up with him! It’s... really hard to feel bad for someone who’s brought most of their suffering on themselves through a series of generally shitty and frequently downright cruel actions with easily foreseeable consequences. If he got sick of being alone, he should’ve apologized to his peers for being a dick to... literally all of them and tried to make amends and strike up some sort of relationship. Or, if that didn’t work, go out! Meet new people! Try not to be as awful to them! Also, he’s a sect leader. If he couldn’t even maintain a positive relationship with other sect leaders, people who, let me remind you, he has to work with on a regular basis and several of whom are actually nice and friendly people, that is on him. If you are awful to people you will end up alone. And then JC decided to respond to learning that the people he was a dick to every time he saw them (and, in LWJ and NHS’s cases, caused the death of someone they cared about) wanted nothing to do with him... by whining about how lonely he was as if that wasn’t largely his fault. Like, he lost his family and that’s awful, but he could have had friends to help him through his grief, and it’s his own damn fault that he doesn’t.

WWX’s life was miserable. He had plenty of friends, yeah, but he spent years on the streets after his parents died brutal deaths; was raised in a family where he was treated like a servant and a scapegoat; lost everything in an event he was blamed for despite having nothing to do with the attack; had to sacrifice his incredibly powerful golden core (thereby losing his primary means of defending himself while on the run and drastically shortening his lifespan) to keep his brother from letting himself die; was thrown into a corpse pit for three months where he had to create an entirely new and experimental (and as such incredibly dangerous) form of cultivation and probably resort to cannibalism just to survive; had to fight a war almost immediately after escaping; spent a... good portion of time (not sure how long exactly because the MDZS timeline is more a suggestion than an actual coherent timeline) being treated alternately as a tame pet or a rabid animal and having to pretend everything was just fine while everyone tried to either control him or remove him and his brother very obviously got increasingly resentful of his skill and power; had to abandon his home, his family, and everything he had left of his old life to save a bunch of innocent people while everyone, including his brother, acted like he’d gone mad for not wanting to let them die horribly; had to go back to the corpse pit he spent three months in because it was the only place where they might be safe; accidentally killed his brother-in-law due to losing control after being ambushed on the way to a celebration for his nephew that he was invited to by people he trusted, almost certainly making him wonder on at least some level if that was why he was invited; lost two members of his new family who he clearly loved because of said accidental murdering; learned their deaths were for nothing and, when he retaliated against the planned attack that shouldn’t have happened because that’s what WQ and WN gave their lives to prevent, saw his beloved sister die to save him; and, after all that, lost the rest of his new family to a siege on a civilian population led by his brother. And after all that, his response was... to destroy the incredibly dangerous weapon he’d made because he didn’t trust the sects to not destroy each other and themselves with it and kill himself rather than risk losing control again and hurting anyone else. In the novel too; I don’t doubt for a second that WWX planned on dying in that siege, even if he didn’t expect destroying the seal to do it.

Take a look at that paragraph. All those things that happened to WWX. And in the end, he was kind. He was so, so kind, and remains kind even after thirteen years of being dead. He would have been well within his rights to go all “Then let me be evil” on the sects, but every time he attacked them they struck first, and most of the serious damage he did happened as a direct result of losing control of his experimental and mostly unknown new cultivation, which is a real risk even with spiritual cultivation; NMJ probably would have happily killed everyone in Qinghe if the qi deviation hadn’t gotten to him first, given how easy it was for him to attack even his beloved little brother. Everything bad that happened to JC is on that list, pretty much. Everything that JC suffered WWX did too, with some variations in the details (and of course dead versus alone for the same period of time). JC had the advantage of a sect at his back and a high rank by virtue of his birth, while WWX’s position was entirely reliant on JFM and, later, JC. And yet some people insist that WWX’s trauma doesn’t excuse his actions but JC’s somehow does. Now, some people argue it’s different because WWX was a mass murderer. Yeah, well, JC’s a fucking serial killer, and he doesn’t have the excuse of losing control due to using resentful energy to cultivate and being attacked by everyone he’d ever known and trusted.

...I’ve kind of lost track of where I’m going with this. Short version: I very strongly disagree with anyone who insists WWX’s trauma doesn’t excuse his actions while bending over backwards to argue that JC’s trauma excuses his.

[ireadyabooks]

The Best Summer Reads! 🏖

Even if you can’t read a book on the beach this year, it’s still summer! 

We’ve pulled together some binge-worthy summer reads that will have you swooning over an adorable romance or turning the pages of a fast-paced thriller.  

I Love You So Mochi by Sarah Kuhn

Kimi Nakamura’s mother disapproves of her passion for fashion design, and when they get into an explosive fight, Kimi's entire future seems on the verge of falling apart. So when a surprise letter comes in the mail from Kimi's estranged grandparents, inviting her to Kyoto for spring break, she seizes the opportunity to get away from the disaster of her life. And what begins as a trip to escape her problems quickly becomes a way for Kimi to learn more about the mother she left behind, and to figure out where her own heart lies. Start reading!

The Night of Your Life by Lydia Sharp

All year, JJ's been looking forward to going to prom with his best friend, Lucy. But nothing goes according to plan and the best night of their lives quickly turns into the worst. That is...until JJ wakes up the next day only to find that it's prom night all over again. At first, JJ thinks he's lucky to have the chance to get innumerable chances at perfecting the night of his life. But each day ends badly for him and Lucy, no matter what he does. Can he find a way to escape the time loop and move into the future with the girl he loves? Start reading!

Lie to Me by Kaitlin Ward

Ever since Amelia woke up in the hospital, recovering from a near-death fall she has no memory of, she's been suspicious. Her friends, family, and doctors insist it was an accident, but Amelia is sure she remembers being pushed. Then another girl is found nearby -- one who fell, but didn't survive. Amelia's fears suddenly feel very real, and with the help of her new boyfriend, Liam, she tries to investigate her own horrific ordeal. But how can she tell who's trustworthy, and who might be -- must be -- lying to her? Start reading!

Screenshot by Donna Cooner

Skye's social media game is always on point. Until her best friend, Asha, films an embarrassing video of Skye at a sleepover and posts it online. But Asha quickly deletes the post, so everything's okay. Right? Then Skye gets an anonymous message. Someone has texted her a screenshot from the video. This person threatens to share the shocking photo online . . . unless Skye does whatever they say. Skye's perfect image -- and privacy -- are suddenly in jeopardy. What will Skye do to keep the screenshot under wraps? And who is trying to ruin her life? Start reading!

Listen To Your Heart by Kasie West

When Kate’s best friend, Alana, convinces Kate to join their high school's podcast, Kate is not expecting to be chosen as the host. But to Kate's surprise, she turns out to be pretty good at the hosting gig. Then the podcast gets in a call from an anonymous guy, asking for advice about his unnamed crush. Kate is pretty sure that the caller is gorgeous Diego Martinez, and even surer that the girl in question is Alana. Kate is excited for her friend . . . until Kate herself starts to develop feelings for Diego. Suddenly, Kate finds that while doling out wisdom to others may be easy, asking for help is tougher than it looks, and following your own advice is even harder. Start reading!

Wherever Nina Lies by Lynn Weingarten

Nina was artistic, fearless, and wild. She inked landscapes onto the soles of her Converse, and covered her tank tops in portraits of people she saw on the street. She was Ellie's big sister and favorite person. And then one day she was gone. Two years later, Ellie stumbles upon a drawing of Nina's that might just contain a clue of where to find her. So she takes off on a road trip with the one person who believes she's got a chance. Start reading!

Faceless by Alyssa Sheinmel

While on a run one day, Maisie gets into a terrible accident. A hot-burning electrical fire consumes her, destroying her face. She is lucky enough to qualify for a face transplant. But with someone else's features staring back at her in the mirror, Maisie looks -- and feels -- like a stranger. The doctors promised that the transplant was her chance to live a normal life again, but nothing feels normal anymore. Before, she knew who she was -- a regular girl who ran track and got good grades, who loved her boyfriend and her best friend. Now, she can't even recognize herself. Start reading!

It’s Not Me, It’s You by Stephanie Kate Strohm

Avery Dennis is a high school senior and one of the most popular girls in her class. But a majorly public breakup with the guy she's been dating causes some disastrous waves. It is right before prom and Avery no longer has the perfect date. Post-breakup, Avery gets to thinking about all of the guys that she has ever dated. Avery decides to investigate: she tracks down all of the guys she's ever dated, and uses that information, along with the thoughts of her friends, family, and even teachers to compile a total account of her dating history. Avery discovers some surprises about herself and the guys she's spent time with just in time for prom night! Start reading!

The Beautiful Lost by Luanne Rice

Ever since her mother left, Maia has struggled with depression -- which once got so bad, she had to go to an institution for a while. She doesn't want to go back. Maia's sure that if she finds her mother, if the two of them can talk about whale songs and constellations, then everything will be okay again. When Maia sets off on a road trip in search of her mom, her crush Billy unexpectedly comes along. They drive up the East Coast, stopping along the way for lobster rolls and lighthouses. Maia learns that Billy has dark secrets of his own -- and wants to outrun his past, too. But what will the future hold if they reach their destination? Start reading!

Where She Fell by Kaitlin Ward

Eliza knows the legends about the swamp near her house -- that people have fallen into sinkholes, never to be seen again, maybe even falling to the center of the earth. But when her best friends drag her onto the uneven ground anyway, Eliza knows to be worried. And when the earth opens under her feet, there isn't even time to say I told you so. As she scrambles through one cave, which leads to another, and another, Eliza finds herself in an impossible world -- where a small group of people survive underground, running from vicious creatures, eating giant bugs, and creating their own subterranean society. Eliza is grateful to be alive, but this isn't home. Is she willing to risk everything to get back to the surface? Start reading!

Lucky in Love by Kasie West

Maddie's not impulsive. She's all about hard work and planning ahead. But one night, on a whim, she buys a lottery ticket. And then, to her astonishment, she wins! In a flash, Maddie's life is unrecognizable. No more stressing about college scholarships. Suddenly, she's talking about renting a yacht. And being in the spotlight at school is fun . . . until rumors start flying, and random people ask her for loans. Now, Maddie isn't sure who she can trust. Except for Seth Nguyen, her funny, charming coworker at the local zoo. Seth doesn't seem aware of Maddie's big news. And, for some reason, she doesn't want to tell him. But what will happen if he learns her secret? Start reading!

Truly, Madly, Royally by Debbie Rigaud

Zora Emerson is not here to play. She's enrolled in a prestigious summer program, and is ready to use what she's learning to change the world. Zora's not expecting to vibe with any of her super-privileged classmates. So she's shocked to find she's got chemistry with Owen Whittelsey, who is charming, funny, undeniably cute...and turns out to literally be a prince. As in, his parents are the king and queen of a small European country. What? Suddenly, Zora's summer is looking a lot more complicated -- especially when Owen asks her to be his date at his older brother's wedding. Can her feelings for Owen, not to mention her sense of self, survive the royal chaos? Start reading!

Maybe This Time by Kasie West

Name the occasion, and Sophie Evans will be there. Well, she has to be there. Sophie works for the local florist, so she can be found at every big event in her small hometown, arranging bouquets and managing family dramas. Enter Andrew Hart. The son of the fancy new chef in town, Andrew is suddenly required to attend all the same events as Sophie. Entitled, arrogant, preppy Andrew. Sophie just wants to get her job done and finish up her sketches so she can apply to design school. But every time she turns around, there is Andrew, getting in her way and making her life more complicated. Until one day she wonders if maybe complicated isn't so bad after all. Start reading!

Snow in Love by Melissa de la Cruz, Aimee Friedman, Nic Stone, Kasie West

It’s still summer, but we’re already looking forward to the holidays and snuggling up with a mug of hot chocolate! So what's better than one deliciously cozy, swoon-worthy holiday story? Four of them! Snow in Love is an adorable, wintry collection of four short stories about the romance of the holiday season, from some of today's bestselling YA authors. Start reading!

Fake by Donna Cooner

Maisie Fernandez is fed up with the bullies who taunt her about her size and her looks. So, one night, Maisie goes online and creates a fake profile. "Sienna" is beautiful, skinny, and confident -- and soon she's messaging the most popular kids in Maisie's school. Maisie doesn't care about being friends with them. She wants to use Sienna to take them down. But as Maisie's web of deception grows, she's in danger of being exposed. And what will happen when the actual Sienna -- the girl whose photos Maisie has been using -- shows up in real life? Start reading!

Sorry Not Sorry by Jamie Reed

Janelle and Alyssa used to be best friends. They knew each other's deepest secrets and went through the hardest times together. But that was then. Now? Their status is somewhere between frenemies and full-on rivals. Until the day Alyssa collapses and is rushed to the hospital. Suddenly, everyone knows about her declining health and race against time. And, in a stunning twist of fate, the only person who might be able to save Alyssa's life -- is Janelle. But will the girls' bitter past get in the way of their futures? Start reading!

[bellakitse]

show me love (in all the things you do)

Five times Michael showed his love for Alex with a kind gesture, and the one time, Alex returned the favor with a big gesture.

1.

Michael looks up at the sound of tires on gravel and frowns as he hears something else, it’s low, but still there. He waits for Alex to park and get out of his SUV.

“Guerin, I brought the pictures,” he says instead of a greeting showing him a manila folder he’s carrying.

“There’s a rattle to your car,” Michael says at the same time stopping Alex short. He looks at his car and then back at Michael.

“I didn’t hear anything,” Alex answers with an unconcerned shrug that makes Michael roll his eyes.

“Yeah, well, you suck at cars,” Michael answers a little testy. “But, I heard it.”

Alex raises an eyebrow at him. “I think we have more important things to go over than this rattle you heard,” Alex answers him, the air quotes over rattle evident in his tone.

“Not more important than car safety,” Michael shoots back. ‘Not more important than your safety’ he doesn’t say vocally, but he thinks Alex hears it anyway as his expression softens.

They’re getting better at this, they’re never going to be the kind of men whom words come easily too, but they’ve been working hard at understanding what isn’t being said out loud without turning it into a worst-case scenario.

“Well,” Alex starts, his voice soft. He walks toward Michael, taking his hand and placing his keys in them. “Since I don’t know anything about cars like you said, I would appreciate it if you took a look at it to make sure it’s okay.”

He holds on to Michael’s hand, squeezing it before he lets go. It leaves Michael feeling warm.

Michael nods, biting down on the strange urge to say thank you. Thank you for understanding. Thank you for letting me take care of you.

“The stuff you want to compare to your pictures is in the airstream,” he waves towards his home. “Go see if it’s worth anything while I check this out.”

Alex opens his mouth like he wants to say something else; in the end, he gives him a quirk of his lips and does as Michael says. Michael watches him go until he’s inside the airstream before he starts to work on Alex’s SUV; he’s never been able to not look at Alex until he’s out of sight. He tried for a while when he thought easy was what he wanted, and all it proved was that it was an exercise in pointlessness. He’s never been able to look away from Alex, not really.

In the end, he finds that the noise is because Alex’s car is in pressing need of an oil change. Alex, now sitting in his chair with a beer in his hand, looks at him blankly when he tells him so.

“You do know cars need oil from time to time, right?” he asks, biting down on a grin when Alex shifts in his seat like he hadn’t realized.

A thought enters Michael’s mind, and now he doesn’t hold back his smile. “Do you even know how to change the oil, Alex?”

Alex shoots him an annoyed look, but Michael can see some pink in his cheeks. “I have you for that,” Alex says quietly after a moment looking at Michael from under his lashes.

Michael feels the words under his ribcage. It takes him a moment to catch his breath from the depth of them. He can read what’s underneath them.

“Yeah,” he says just as softly. “You do.”

2.

Alex is focused and determined to the point of self-neglect sometimes. Michael has never known someone so smart and capable, but who could forget something as simple as remembering to eat. He arrives at Jesse Manes’ old bunker. Now, Alien headquarters, and feels the same kind of grim satisfaction he always feels when he steps into it, thinking how much it would infuriate the bastard to know that aliens have taken over his little clubhouse and now use it for the sole purpose of bringing him down, with his youngest son leading the charge.

He finds Alex where he left him the evening before, in the same t-shirt, telling him all he needs to know. Alex hasn’t moved from his computers all night.

“I ran into Maria in town with Buffy,” he calls out, placing the bags of takeout on the main table in the center of the bunker.

“I asked her to check in on her,” Alex answers, still typing away.

“She told me,” Michael answers, pulling out styrofoam containers with Arturo’s enchiladas with red and green sauce, just the way Alex likes them. “She said that if you can’t be a responsible dog dad, she’s going to file for custody of her niece.”

Alex snorts, and Michael guesses the reaction makes sense. Buffy might have warmed up to all of them, Maria the most since she was there when Alex rescued her, but the beagle adores Alex with a passion that rivals Michael’s. No one is taking her away from him; he’s more than sure Buffy wouldn’t let it happen. Alex turns in his chair, lifting a brow when he spots the food.

“What’s all this?” he asks carefully.

“You’ve been staring at those screens way too long if you don’t recognize Arturo’s specialty,” he comments, taking out a second container with his own food. “Now, why don’t you come over here and join me, and if you’re good and eat all your food, there might be a triple chocolate shake in here for you as dessert.”

Alex stands up, making a face down at his leg, and Michael can only imagine how sore it must be from Alex having it on for so long. He spots Alex’s crutch and silently floats it over to Alex. He’s looking down at his food as he cuts into it, but he can feel Alex’s eyes on him as he walks over to the table.

“Christmas style,” Alex says quietly, and when Michael looks up, he finds Alex giving him a grateful smile. He nods back at him as he takes a bite of his food and gestures towards the free space on the couch next to him. Silently he’s grateful Valenti insisted on adding it to the bunker, even if he thinks it gives Alex an excuse to stay down here longer since now he has a place to lay down when he needs rest.

Alex sits next to him, and they eat in silence, only the sound of their forks scraping the bottom filling the room as they finish their food.

“That was so good,” Alex sighs happily, his eyes drooping as he gets comfortable on the couch. Michael puts the garbage back in the bags before reclaiming his place next to Alex. “I could eat my weight in Arturo’s food.”

Michael lifts Alex’s right leg to his lap and starts to do a quick job of taking off Alex’s shoe, followed by the prosthetic, his pant’s leg rolled up. Alex doesn’t startle like he did the first time Michael did this after Alex pulled long hours in the bunker, now he just sinks deeper into the couch, his eyes barely opened as Michael starts to massage the sore muscles. Michael watches him, the way he’s gone soft and relaxed under his touch. How comfortable they are with each other, it’s good, but he wants more.

“Maybe we can do it again,” he starts, pressing a firm thumb under Alex’s knee, right above where his leg ends. Alex lets out a moan, and it makes Michael’s stomach quiver. “Outside, like a date,” he blurts out, and he feels Alex still under his hands. He holds his breath, waits a moment before finally moving his gaze from Alex’s leg to his face.

The shy smile, and brightness of Alex’s eyes help him let go of the breath he’s holding.

“I’d really like that.”

3.

They're all over at Isobel's, he and Max are by the grill. Isobel is making margaritas in the kitchen, regular for the group, and virgin for Rosa, while the resurrected teenager looks on. Valenti is in a corner with Cameron looking like he's trying to make some serious heart eyes in her direction, much to her amusement if the smirk on her lips is anything to go by. While the human trio that is Liz, Alex and Maria are a few feet away from them, laughter breaking out as Maria recounts some date she went on the night before.

"Not to blame the victim," He overhears Liz say. "But this is kind of your fault, didn't we establish never to date guys named Chad? Did the last Chad teach you nothing?

Alex nods in agreement as Maria frowns at both of them.

"He seemed nice," she argues, which earns a snort from both Liz and Alex.

"I don't care if he's a saint," Alex says with a scrunched up face that is cuter than it has any right to be. "Chads are such, Chads."

Maria opens her mouth like she wants to argue some more but in the end, deflates with an exhale. "Yeah, when you're right, you're right."

The humans keep talking, but Michael's focus is on his boyfriend. He looks good in his slim jeans and grey Henley with his sleeves pushed up. He fights the urge to walk over and press himself against him, but they both promised Isobel not to, as she puts it, ‘slobber all over each other.’

He takes offense at the description and the accusing tone with which she said it. There's nothing wrong with wanting to touch and kiss Alex all the time if you’re lucky to have the privilege to do so.

He turns his back to the walking temptation that is Alex Manes and tries to focus on something else. Max is looking fine as he handles the grill and doesn’t seem to need Michael’s help, so he focuses on the small garden Isobel has started.  Flowers litter her yard in what should be a colorful mess but instead give the area vibrancy. He touches a few petals here and there, finally plucking a red carnation.

"Isobel's not going to like that," Alex whispers close to his ear, having walked over to him without Michael noticing.

"You're not going to rat me out, are you?" he asks, turning around to face him, smiling when Alex gets closer to him, as he places his hands on Michael’s hips.

"I'll try not to, but she is a mind reader," Alex teases, grinning when Michael pulls him closer still.

"I'll give you a flower if you hold out," Michael says, presenting him the red carnation. He expects Alex to laugh or roll his eyes. Instead, his face goes soft as he takes the small flower in his hand like it's something precious.

Liz calls out his name, but Alex continues to look at him.

"No one's ever given me a flower before," Alex says softly, running his fingers over the petals, and he gives Michael a wide smile before he walks back to his friend.

*

It sticks with him. That smile on Alex's face over something so simple like a flower sticks with him the rest of the night and then the rest of the week. It sticks with him as he goes into the flower shop on Main street, and as he picks every single flower with careful consideration before he drives out to Alex's cabin with the small bouquet held together by a slim yellow ribbon.

He makes his way up Alex’s walkway with the flowers in his hand, using the key Alex gave him months ago even before they started this up again to open the door. Buffy greets him with an enthusiastic bark, her owner nowhere in sight.

"Alex?" he calls out, taking his boots off to leave them by the entrance. He spots snacks on the coffee table in the living room, and Netflix queued up on the TV, a mellow date is what they usually prefer.

"I'm coming," he gets as an answer from the kitchen. He holds his breath as he hears Alex start to make his way to him.

"Hey, perfect timing, I just turned off the chili," Alex says with a smile as he moves in to greet him.

Michael pulls the bouquet from behind his back, practically thrusting it in Alex's face in his nervousness, Alex startles back, eyeing the flowers and then Michael.

Michael feels his cheeks grow hot, feeling ridiculous before Alex takes the flowers from him.

Holding them close to his face, he breathes them in before he looks back at Michael with the same smile from the other day.

"They’re perfect, thank you," he says quietly. He heads back into the kitchen to put them in water and comes back moments later with two bowls of food.

Two episodes of ‘Queer Eye’ later, Michael is full, warm, and being lulled to sleep as Alex rests practically on him, his head tucked under Michael’s chin, his arms around his waist. He lifts his head, pressing his lips under Michael’s jaw.

“They’re beautiful,” he whispers against his skin. “Happy five months, Michael.”

Michael tightens his hold on him in response.

4.

Maria likes to host events at the Wild Pony and make them participate, he doesn’t know if it’s their love for her or fear, but usually when Maria wants something they all fall in line. Last month it was Alex and Liz belting out 90’s rock like it was their job. The month before that, it was Max, Kyle, and Michael helping out for her ladies' night by serving drinks shirtless. He’s still not sure what Alex said to get out of it, but he remembers the love of his life sitting with Liz and Isobel, smirking in his direction as the female population of Roswell objectified him.

Maria doesn’t ask him to play on her open mic night, but she flashes him a smile of gratitude when she sees him at the sign-up sheet. He figures it’s killing two birds with one stone. He helps someone he cares about, and he shows Alex something he’s been wanting to show him for years.

He’s sitting next to Alex, his knee bouncing, and he’s barely heard the conversation his friends are having around him. Alex places a hand on his thigh, stilling it. He looks at Michael with a worried look.

Michael opens his mouth to reassure him, but he spots Maria making her way up the makeshift stage. He threads his fingers through Alex’s hair and pulls him in for a kiss that Alex returns easily.

“Michael?” Alex asks, concern creeping into his voice.

He presses his forehead against Alex’s, but he doesn’t answer his question, not when Maria is telling the bar of their first participant of the night and calling his name.

Alex pulls back and looks at him with surprised eyes. He just smiles, hoping it hides his nerves, and with one last kiss, he makes his way up to the stage. Maria hands him a guitar with a wink and a ‘go get em.’ Sitting down, he adjusts the mike to where he wants it and picks up the guitar. Looking out at the crowd, he finds his friends all watching him, curious but supportive.

“When I was seventeen,” he starts, licking his lips as he talks. He’s never been one to be open about his feelings, but with Alex, he struggles daily not to shout from the rooftops how in love he is. “I saw a boy I loved, and I’ve never looked away since,” he continues, he thinks he sees that idiot Wyatt make a rude gesture out of the corner of his eye, but it doesn’t matter, not when he finds Alex staring at him in rapt attention. “This is his song,” he finishes.

He places his fingers over the right cords, closes his eyes, and starts to play a song that has been Alex’s since he wrote it over a decade ago. It’s always been his, even when he couldn’t play due to his hand, the song has been Alex’s, just like Michael has been Alex’s.

The song comes to an end, and only then does Michael open his eyes; he doesn’t hear the applause or sees anyone but Alex.

Just Alex.

5.

Alex has been making faces when he thinks he isn’t looking, and Michael knows it’s because of his new prosthetic. When Michael questions if it’s bothering him too much, Alex waves him away, telling him it’s always like this with a new one and that he’ll get used to it soon enough.

Not that it will get better or that the discomfort will go away, no, just that he’ll get used to it. Which in Alex speak means that it’s always going to hurt him, he’s just going to ignore it.

It makes Michael want to hold him close and protect him from anything that causes him pain but also shake him for accepting the pain like it’s his lot in life.

He doesn’t bring it up again because it will probably lead to a fight. Instead, Michael does what he does best, he sciences the shit out of the problem. He studies everything he can get his hands on about the best prosthetics on the market. He sucks it up and talks to Valenti about what he wants to do, and tries not to scowl when the good doctor looks at him like he’s proud of him, before loading him up on all the information he can gather in the hospital about artificial limbs. Armed with all his tools he gets to work, he’s a genius after all; it shouldn’t be that hard to figure out.

It takes him six weeks to build something he thinks is worthy, longer than he expected, and he’s annoyed at himself for taking so long. Alex is still carrying an air of discomfort, and it bothers him.

Alex, of course, notices.

“What’s going on with you?” he asks as they get ready for bed while Alex goes through his nightly PT’s. “You’ve been moody for days.”

Michael looks over at the closet, where he’s hiding the finished prosthetic. He finished it the day before, and Michael marvels at Alex’s timing.

“I have been working on something, and it’s been giving me trouble,” Michael answers, sitting up when Alex stops what he’s doing to look at him.

“The ship?” Alex questions calmly, they’ve come a long way from when his ship was a touchy subject between them.

Michael shakes his head and without a word, gets up and walks towards his closet, pulling out the carefully wrapped limb.

“I made this for you,” he says nervously, placing it on the bed for Alex. He watches and waits for him to unwrap it, swallowing hard when Alex lets out a gasp.

“I’ve worked out all the calculations, weight distribution, the mobility and dexterity you require,” he rushes to explain. “It’s lighter and better cushioned. It shouldn’t cause you as much soreness as the one you have.”

Alex doesn’t look at him; he stares at the prosthetic, reaching out to touch it with shaking fingers.

“Say something,” he whispers, worried when Alex remains silent, his worry spiking up when Alex finally looks up at him with tears running down his face.

“Alex,” he starts, alarmed, but Alex doesn’t let him get anything else out. He finds himself with an armful of Alex Manes, as he crawls into his lap and holds him tight. Michael runs his hands up and down Alex’s back, trying to soothe him, waiting until Alex has calmed down enough to speak.

Alex pulls back, he looks down at the prosthetic and then again at Michael, fresh tears clinging to his lashes. “I love you so much,” Alex whispers, the words hitting Michael square in the chest the way they always do when Alex speaks them.

Alex leans in, pressing his forehead against his, letting out a slow exhale. “Thank you, Michael.”

+1

Michael is in his bunker a week later, tinkering with some compounds when he hears someone come down the ladder. He smiles, knowing who it is, his smile only growing as he watches Alex land on his feet with ease.

“Hey,” he calls out, getting a greeting in return.

“I brought burgers,” Alex says placing the bag he’s carrying on the table.

Michael looks at it, his stomach jumping as he finds a carnation on top of the bag. He picks it up and brings it to his nose before he looks over at Alex. He’s not looking at him but Michael spots his smile anyway. He places the carnation in a glass of water before they sit on his old couch with food in hand.

Catching up on each other’s day, Alex tells him he ran into Liz and she wants them to come over for dinner at Max’s. He watches with a growing frown as every once in a while, Alex rubs his knee.

“Is it bothering you?” he finally questions when they’re done, and Alex is gathering their trash.

“Hmm?”

“Your leg, is it bothering you?” he asks again. “You’ve been rubbing it. I can make adjustments if you need them.”

Alex turns to face him, leaning against Michael’s work table. “The prosthetic is perfect, Michael,” he reassures him. “I’m pretty sure I could run a marathon with it if I were a glutton for punishment.”

Michael laughs at the joke, the worry that had been building easing up. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Alex nods, lifting his leg, flexing it one way and another. “It’s made everything easier,” he answers before he licks his lips, his hand twitching at his side, and Michael frowns again, realizing that while he’s been worried about Alex’s leg, he’s missed that Alex is nervous.

“Including kneeling,” Alex tells him, in a way that sounds meaningful before he does precisely that, and kneels in front of Michael, resting a hand on Michael’s knee.

“I like where this is going, darling,” he teases in the hope that the tension he sees in Alex’s shoulders will loosen. It seems to work as Alex rolls his eyes at him.

“That’s not where I’m going with this, Michael,” Alex says, rolling his eyes again, though it loses it’s punch when there’s a fond smile on his face.

“Well, where are you going with this then?” he asks.

“Where I’m going with this is, this,” Alex takes a deep breath, sticking his hand in his pocket to take out a small black velvet box.

Michael is pretty sure he’s lost the ability to breathe.

“I’m not good at showing how much I love you,” Alex starts, quietly, his eyes never straying from Michael’s. “Not the way you are, Michael. You show me you love me in all the things you do. Changing my car’s oil, picking me wildflowers, making sure I eat because I forget to when I’m working. You stand in front of a crowd and sing me a song you wrote just for me. You build me a leg because you didn’t want me to be in pain. You show me so much love in a million ways and I don’t always know how to show you that I feel the same.”

“Alex,” he whispers, reaching out he touches Alex’s face. His breath catching as Alex turns his head to press a kiss at his palm.

“But I hope you know how much I love you, I’ve always loved you and I always will,” Alex continues, opening the box to reveal a simple gold band before taking Michael’s hand in his. “Marry me?” he asks, the words barely out of his mouth before Michael is hauling him up, dragging him to his lap, his mouth covering Alex’s.

Alex lets him manhandle him, laughing breathlessly into the kiss.

“Is that a yes?” he teases.

When Michael finally lets him breathe, he slips the ring onto Michael’s finger. Michael nods, not bothering with words as he presses Alex into the couch, pulling him into another kiss; he rather show him than tell him anyway.

[losingmymindtonight]

Whump: Hostage

AN: Y’all I mean it when I say that this one is long. It’s over 11k. So, if you’d rather read it on the AO3, I’m linking it right here.

Just a little housekeeping before we proceed! This is set post-Endgame, but with a few tweaks to pieces that I didn’t like, because this is fanfiction and I can do that. For one, Tony’s alive. Steve did not go back to Peggy. Bruce is not... that weird Hulk/Bruce thing.

This is technically a continuation of my last bingo square, which was AU: TV/Movie! You don’t need to have read that for this to make sense, but it would definitely help! If you haven’t read that other fic, just know that May died sometime after Endgame and Tony adopted Peter.

There’s a little ‘bonus scene’ at the end of this, from Natasha’s POV. It’s my version of an end credit scene, I guess. If I’m being honest, I don’t even know why it’s there, but it is.

This boy is long, and some parts are edited a lot better than others. Did I mention that this thing is 11k yet? Because it is, and I think I’ve gone insane.

EDIT: I’m a dumbass and I forgot to mention that this one is based off of a West Wing episode, just like the last square. If you’re a West Wing fan and it feels familiar, that’s why!

WARNINGS: kidnapping, mentions of date-rape drugs (but no sexual assault, just a brief mention near the end, and not in reference to something that actually occurred), non-consensual drug use, a couple mentions of alcohol, lots and lots of ruminations on a missing persons case, discussions of death (I don’t think there’s anything too graphic, but it’s there).

--

“Suma cum laude from Columbia. Columbia, Rhodey. Did you know that their acceptance rate is 5.1%? That’s the second most selective college in the Ivy League.”

Rhodey didn’t look nearly as impressed as Tony thought was appropriate. He just took a sip from his whiskey, tone dripping with sarcasm. “So you’ve told me.”

“That’s more selective than MIT.” He gestured with his own glass, although his was filled with some of Morgan’s apple juice. “Their acceptance rate is 7.9%. That’s a 2.8% difference.”

“Yes, Tones. I, too, am capable of basic math. Even though I did graduate from MIT, which is obviously the inferior institution here.”

He glared. “Yeah, well, did you know that Peter graduated on a 4.0 GPA? You know how hard it is to graduate on a 4.0 GPA at an Ivy League school?”

“I don’t know. Probably about as hard as graduating on a 4.0 GPA at MIT. Which I did, by the way.”

“Are you ever gonna let that one go? I’m the visionary of a generation, but I got one B in an English class and my best friend does a mutiny.”

“Yeah, well, your son managed to make an A in English.”

“He did, didn’t he?” He grinned, still drunk on the memory of Peter in his cap and gown, leaning down so that Morgan could adjust the tassel. “I think he made a 99 in that course, too. He’s smarter than you and me, Rhodey. I’ve been telling you that for years.”

Rhodey held up a hand, stalling him. “I’m sorry, you remember the exact number?”

“Of course he remembers the number, Rhodey,” Pepper sighed, slumping down at Tony’s side with a glass of wine in her hand. “He used to pin the screenshots from Canvas up in his office.”

Used to? He thought, a little incredulous. He still had them there.

“Listen,” he griped, “there are worse crimes than a father being proud of his child. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Sure,” Rhodey said, not even trying to conceal his amusement. “By the way, I thought that his security detail did a good job of blending in today. If I didn’t personally know all of them, I wouldn’t’ve suspected a thing.”

Tony snorted. “Let me tell you something: when it’s your kid, you don’t want them to blend in. You want them carrying a sign that says, I’m carrying a loaded gun and the safety’s off.” He swirled a finger around the rim of his glass. “But, yeah. I think Peter even managed to forget about them for most of it, which was the goal.”

“His speech was lovely as well,” Pepper interjected. “Very polished. He’s grown up a lot.”

A dagger of nostalgia pierced through him. “Oh, don’t remind me. I swear that I was coaching him through his first awkward date just a couple of days ago. What the hell is he doing going off to California all alone? It’s ridiculous.”

Rhodey snorted. “Sorry, I don’t get it. Are you proud of him or are you trying to lock him in the house and never let him out? I’m just trying to make sure that we’re all on the same page here.”

A chime from Rhodey’s phone interrupted the conversation. The man glanced down at the screen, expression darkening at whatever it was that he found there, and then quickly excused himself.

Tony didn’t really think anything of it. Rhodey got a lot of calls and texts that weren’t pleasant. It came with the territory of being such a high-ranking Colonel in the military. Nobody on Earth would call that a relaxing job. Plus, he still flew the occasional mission as War Machine. Not every superhero was quite as ready to leap into retirement as Tony had been.

Minutes trickled past with Rhodey out of the room, and Tony and Pepper found themselves constantly circling back to their favorite topic: their kids. They (well, it was mostly him, but Pep joined in occasionally) reminisced and complained, in the pride-struck kind of way, about the bittersweet upheaval that the upcoming months would bring to their lives. It was nice. It was quiet. It was a taste of the peace that he’d fought for through all those years as Iron Man.

Isn't that the mission? Isn't that why we fight? So we can end the fight? So we get to go home?

He’d ended the fight, and the endgame had been so much better than he could’ve ever imagined. When he’d said that to Steve, he hadn’t even had a home. His home had been the Avengers, even if he wasn’t ready to admit that to himself. But after Thanos, after hanging up the armor and looking into a future, a real future, he’d built a home. He’d built a home out of a dozen scattered bricks: the scarred shambles of his and Pepper’s baggage-laden love affair, a pregnancy test that was never meant to be positive, and a frightened, orphaned teenager with nowhere left to go. He’d taken those foundations, and he’d built and built and built until they were sheltered. Until they were home.

The pain of letting Peter leave, of releasing his grip and watching him run off to California to be his own person, to build his own home, his own life, was such a new, privileged kind of pain. It hurt, but in a gentle way. In the way that good things sometimes ached in the beginning, before they settled into a normalcy.

Tony had just decided that he’d be happy to live through a hundred moments of Peter graduating college (just so long as he could feel this proud with each repetition) when Rhodey surged back into the room, chest heaving.

He knew, somehow. He knew from the moment he saw the look on his best friend’s face. He knew even before Happy, who was not supposed to be here, who was supposed to be with Peter at some graduation party in the city, came barreling in at his heels. He knew.

Maybe it was a father’s intuition, maybe it was just paranoia, but he knew, and that knowing was the absolute worst thing in the world.

Everything froze.

“Rhodey?” He set his glass down on the coffee table, half-rose from the couch, wanting to ask but desperately not wanting to hear the answer that came after the asking. “What’s-”

“Tony, it’s Peter.”

--

The world had broken into color and chaos. The drinks had been cleared away, the coffee table in the living room swiped clean. Pepper was in the kitchen, babbling on the phone to about a dozen different people at SI, trying to organize whatever and whoever she could. The team was on their way: the new and the old. He’d spoken to Steve for a stunted 30 seconds, had pulled himself out of his adrenaline just long enough to process his promise of I’ll be there in an hour before hitting End Call.

He was sitting on the floor, now, back pressed against the couch, clutching the TV remote in his left hand for no reason other than to be holding something.

“Is Morgan still in her room?” He whispered, because that was… that was all he had left. God, he couldn’t live without one of them, how would he possibly survive losing them both?

“Yeah, Tony.” Happy seemed hesitant, like he wasn’t sure how much information he was meant to be revealing. “Pepper checked on her. We’re letting her sleep.”

“Okay. Okay.” He closed his eyes. Tried to steady himself on a home-grown foundation that had just lost one of its most vital supports. “Okay. Tell me everything.���

Rhodey knelt beside him, hand heavy on his shoulder. “Tony, are you sure that you shouldn’t-

“Yes, I’m sure,” he snarled, although he wasn’t really sure what he was sure about. He wanted his child back? Yeah… Yeah. He was sure about that. He was sure about regretting the fact that he’d ever let Peter leave his sight. “Now, will somebody please tell me what the hell is going on?”

Happy sighed, pushing the coffee table out of the way and joining Rhodey on his knees in front of him. It was funny, in a horrible, morbid, stomach-twisting sort of way. Three of the most high-powered men in the country were kneeling on the floor, falling to pieces because a single kid was missing.

“He was with his friends, at a club,” Happy started slowly. “We had two of his guards in there with him, blending in and keeping their distance, and a group of six more stationed on the outside. He got up to go to the bathroom. One of the guards followed, the other stuck by his friends so they could have eyes on him when he came back. We don’t really know what the hell happened after that. As far as the guards saw, he never came out of the bathroom. One of them went in after about ten minutes, checked all the stalls. His phone was on the floor, but he wasn’t there, so they raised the alarm. We scanned the perimeter, and found skid marks and one of the external guards down by the kitchen’s loading area-”

Tony hated panic, hated situations that threw him in the deep end like this. He wasn’t used to being slow, to being one step behind everyone else, but that’s exactly what this was. He was handicapped, stuck in molasses because this was his child. There was nothing… There was no way that the word efficiency could slot into the haze settling over him.

“What, uh,” he shook his head, trying to clear it, to knock his thoughts into something orderly and complete, “what do you mean, one of the guards was down?”

“They’re dead, Tony,” Happy breathed, and even though his own turmoil, Tony could see the pain on the man’s face. “Whoever took Peter shot them in the head. By the time we got to the scene, there was nothing we could do.”

Peter’s never going to forgive himself for that.

He didn’t even have the presence of mind to feel guilt over the fact that his only concern was for Peter. The guard… he’d feel bad about that later. He’d compartmentalize it, because it was selfish and horrible and very unheroic, but nobody mattered more than Peter. Nobody mattered more than his kid.

“Why… Why didn’t he hit his panic button?”

“That’s the question.” Happy scrubbed a hand down the front of his face. Every inch of him looked tired, like he’d been running on empty for weeks and weeks and weeks, except it hadn’t been weeks. It had only been a few hours since Peter had been taken, only a few minutes since Tony had been told, but it felt like… it felt like decades. “We found it out in the alley, a few feet away from where we think the getaway car must’ve been parked. He never pushed it.”

“He didn’t push it?”

“No.”

It didn’t make sense. None of it made sense. Sure, Peter could be a brat about security sometimes, but he did use the resources he was given. He’d hit the panic button multiple times before. Why didn’t he do it now? Why?

He shook his head again, swallowed hard past the lump growing in his throat. “So… So he knew them. He must’ve.”

“Or… Tony, you know I don’t wanna be the person to break this to you, but he was drunk. He’d already had about half a bottle of champagne and a few shots by the time he was taken. One of the guards said he was stumbling when he got up to go to the bathroom, and his friends told us that he seemed pretty wasted.”

That shouldn’t have mattered. Peter was… he was 22, for god’s sake. He’d just graduated valedictorian from Columbia. The kid was allowed to drink some champagne, to get a little-

“Wait, no.” He ran a few numbers through his head, cold and ice and dread sprouting up in his lungs as they refused to compute. “That… he was stumbling?”

“Yeah. That’s what one of his detail said, at least.”

“No, that… that doesn’t make sense, Hap. He… He shouldn’t’ve been that out of it already. His… His metabolism. It’d take more than some champagne and a few shots to get him that drunk. He’d need… He’d need something else.”

Realization snapped over Happy’s face, and he lunged to his feet, kicked the leg of the coffee table irritably when it got in his way. “Fuck. Shit. Why didn’t I think of that? They drugged him. They must’ve.”

Rhodey rubbed Tony’s shoulder, his calm presence the only anchor in wave after wave of helplessness, failure, fear. “Then they were inside the club. Or they had someone helping them.”

Happy was nodding restlessly, already working furiously on his phone. “I’m gonna call the guys on the scene, tell them to detain the bartender and anybody else who might’ve had access to the kid’s drink. And I’ll have someone get his glass and that bottle of champagne for testing.”

“You go,” Rhodey said, slipping forward to settle down at Tony’s side. “I’ll stay here. Hold down the fort.”

“Got it.”

Happy was rushing for the door. Tony could still hear Pepper talking in the kitchen. The team must’ve been most of the way to the cabin by now, scrambling over themselves because this was… it was all too much. Too awful to comprehend. Tony’s brain couldn’t process it. He couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact that Peter just… wasn’t going to come home. Wasn’t going to walk through the front door, a little tipsy and a little unbalanced but fine. Safe and loved and present. Ready to fly off to California at the end of the summer and leave a very, very proud Tony behind.

“Happy?” He called out, voice rough. The man went stock-still in the doorway, just barely turning to let him know that he had his attention. “Call me as soon as you know anything? Even if… Even if it’s bad. Just… please. Call me.”

That’s my baby, he thought, chest constricting at the bone-crushing loss of it all, if he’s dead… if he’s… if he’s never coming home, then I need to know. I need to know.

“I will, Tony. I promise.”

--

The Avengers blew into the cabin like a choreographed hurricane.

Tony had rarely had a chance to admire their efficiency from afar. He was usually on the outskirts of the disasters, working alongside them. But now he was the disaster. He was ground zero.

Rhodey brief them on what they knew so far, and the living room was quickly transformed from a haven of fireplace and colorful throws and family movie nights into a control room. The only thing that wasn’t touched was the couch Tony was leaning against. He didn’t even realize that it was because of him until Steve sat down on the carpet, brow furrowed in concern as he set a cautious hand on his knee.

“Tony, I want you to let Bruce examine you.”

He scoffed at the suggestion, bitterness rolling over him so suddenly that he felt swamped by it.

“And I want my child back,” he snarled. “Guess tonight’s just gonna be full of disappointments for all of us, huh?”

“Tony.”

“Don’t even start with me, Rogers.” He didn’t know why he was being so cruel to Steve. The man didn’t deserve it. He was just… the closest target. The easiest thing to despise. “I’m just not in the mood.”

“Tones,” Rhodey whispered, dropping down pacifyingly between him and Steve, “listen to me. You know that your heart’s weaker after the Snap. If I’m hauling your ass to a hospital, I’m not looking for your kid. We’ve gotta prioritize, here.”

Even in this state, Tony was clever enough to know when he was being manipulated.

Luckily for Rhodey, he was just too goddamn tired to care.

“Fine,” he growled. “What the fuck ever. Just do it.”

Rhodey was right, unfortunately. He didn’t have time for a heart attack right now, didn’t have time for his body to be anything but functional. After they brought Peter home, well… then it didn’t really matter anymore.

He blinked up at the ceiling, ignoring Bruce as he tugged out his arm, clipped something onto his finger.

Bring him home, he prayed, although to who, he didn’t really know, please, just bring him home to me.

--

Apparently, his blood pressure was high.

Everyone seemed pretty damn concerned about it, which was just… honestly, it was hilarious.

Did they think it wouldn’t be high? His child was off god-knows-where with god-knows-who, probably drugged and confused and afraid and desperately in need of his father, and Tony was supposed to be calming down for the sake of his blood pressure?

His blood pressure could go screw itself, for all he cared.

Of course, nobody else seemed to share his viewpoint. They all fussed over him. Pepper tried to get him to do some bullshit breathing exercises, while Bruce called Cho and bickered with her about medication and preventative measures.

He really didn’t know how to explain to everyone that there was only one cure, and it was his child, safe in his arms.

Until that happened, there wasn’t a drug or a pill or a yoga technique in the world that could save him.

--

Happy burst into the room without any ceremony.

“I’ve got the results from Peter’s drinks.”

Tony staggered upright, shoving Clint’s hands away as the man tried to steady him. He felt breakable, like a single touch might send cracks down his spine, into his bones and down through the ground. Like one wrong move might split him apart.

“And?”

Happy winced. Physically winced, like the words he was about to say weighed a thousand tons. “They found gamma hydroxy butyrate, more commonly known as-”

“GHB,” Tony finished, and he was surprised by how numb he felt at the news. It should’ve terrified him. At the very least, he should’ve felt something. Instead, he just stared at it clinically, chemical formulas and sterile facts filling his head in place of the things he just couldn’t think about. The things he didn’t want to face. “It’s degreasing solvent mixed with drain cleaner.”

God. Drain cleaner. Someone… Someone had given his kid drain cleaner.

“Exactly,” Happy said, voice small and unsure. “And in low doses-”

“In low doses,” he breathed, “it’s a date-rape drug.”

Pain streaked across his old bodyguard’s face: a cocktail of guilt and terror and shame. “Yeah, Tony. It’s… It’s a date-rape drug.”

He swallowed. “That’s, uh, that’s why he was stumbling. Why he didn’t hit the panic button.”

Happy nodded. “Yeah. From the looks of the doses, it was probably meant to knock him out, but with his metabolism…”

Tony finished the sentence in his head. With his metabolism, it probably just made him feel awful, sick, confused. He probably wondered what the hell was happening to him. He probably wanted me.

“He was awake when they took him,” Tony whispered, nauseous. God, he was awake when they took him.

“That’s our best guess. And, uh, Tony…. Listen, I don’t really know if I should be telling you this, but-”

“Tell me,” he ordered, voice somehow sharp and resigned all at once. He… He had to hear it. He had to hear everything. It didn’t matter if it gave him nightmares for the rest of his life, didn’t matter if it was the worst thing he’d ever heard.

It was the only link to Peter that he had.

Happy was silent for a few seconds, then let out a defeated breath. He reached into his pocket and pulled out Peter’s phone. Tony knew it was his because of the case: pink and green and godawful to look at. The kid had only bought it because Morgan had liked it so much.

“We’ve gotten all we can from this, so I thought I’d give it back.” He handed it over, and Tony slid his fingers over the case, borderline reverent. He could still imagine it in Peter’s hands, or charging on his bedside table, or getting tossed onto the couch in favor of playing a boardgame with Morgan. Tiny, insignificant snippets of life, and yet they mattered so much. They’d mattered so much. “We think he was using it when they grabbed him.”

He tilted the phone to the light, watched his reflection warp in the glass screen. “What was he doing?”

“He was texting you.”

Something icy gripped his chest. When he finally managed to force words up his throat, his voice came out hoarse.

“What’d he say?”

Happy just gestured at the phone, expression pinched. “Bathroom didn’t have any service, so none of them sent, but it’s all still there. We didn’t delete anything. D’you know his passcode?”

“Yeah,” he said. Peter just doesn’t think that I do.

“Okay. Well, I’m… I’m gonna get back to work. I’ll come back if we find anything.”

“Yeah.”

“You don’t have to read it, Tony.”

“Yeah. I know.”

“Alright.”

He heard rather than saw Happy move away, just barely caught him murmuring, “don’t let him spiral,” to Rhodey before he left.

Sure enough, Rhodey was right beside him within a few seconds, voice lowered in a guise of privacy, despite the fact that the room was still packed with Avengers, all pretending not to watch but definitely watching.

“Tony, it’s late,” he whispered. “Don’t do this now. Get some rest, and you can face it in the morning, if you really have to.”

“No,” he said, more forceful than he’d intended, but then again, Rhodey just didn’t understand. He was holding his child’s last words in his hands. How could he not read them? What kind of father would he be if he didn’t? “No. I need to do this now.”

He left the living room before anyone could stop him.

Happy’s car was already gone by the time he got to the front porch. He briefly considered settling down in one of the rocking chairs, or the porch swing, but every one of them carried a dozen memories of Peter, of summer days and fall nights and laughter and warmth and the kid’s head pressing heavy on his shoulder and he just couldn’t. He couldn’t face them.

He sat on the floor, back pressed up against the cabin, knees drawn to his chest.

He unlocked Peter’s phone. The brightness was up, but it automatically adjusted after a second or two. He opened the messages app, clicked his contact icon, and read.

hey tony? i thimk i fucked up (ERROR: not delivered)

i feel super super gross (ERROR: not delivered)

:( (ERROR: not delivered)

plz dont be mad i didnt mean to grt thsi drunk (ERROR: not delivered)

ugh fuck batgroom service (ERROR: not delivered)

i just kinda wish u were here to yell at me rn (ERROR: not delivered)

--

The front porch was nice at sunrise.

He’d spent so many hours out here, with Morgan and Peter. Both of them tended to be up early: Morgan because she was a child, Peter because he carried things that no child ever should. He’d sit with them, curled up under one of the afghans Pepper liked to buy from pop-up markets, and watch the sky become an oil painting.

That’d be a pretty smoothie, Morgan would say, pointing at the horizon, and Peter would laugh like she was the funniest thing in the world.

And what would it taste like, Mo?

Like a smoothie!

He heard the door swing open to his left, and while he knew it wasn’t Peter, a tiny part of him wanted to keeping pretending.

“Tones?”

Rhodey. Right. Of course it was Rhodey. Who else would come out here this early, ready to pick his ass up off the floor?

“Did you find anything?” He rasped, still staring out at the lake, watching the daylight step into the clouds, wishing he was watching Peter instead.

“Not yet.”

He just barely inclined his head in response. The answer should’ve hurt him, should’ve stung or panged or something, but it didn’t. After a while, pain just become pain. There wasn’t a scale anymore, wasn’t any room for additions or levels. There was just pain. Pain, and a family missing child. That’s all Tony had.

“I need you to tell me something,” he whispered, then swallowed. His throat scratched, dry and hot, “and I need you to be honest with me when you answer.”

Rhodey sat down beside him, leg braces glowing gently in the yellow-red dawn. “I can do that,” he responded, solemn.

“Do you… Do you think he’s already dead?”

Rhodey’s answer came immediately. “No.”

“Are you lying?”

“If I thought he was dead, I’d tell you.”

“Do you promise?” He balled up a fist, resisted to urge to slam it through the nearest object. “If you… If we reach a point where you think he’s dead, do you promise to tell me?”

He knew he was asking a lot. He could tell, because Rhodey’s breath caught, and he paused. Considered.

“Yeah, Tony,” Rhodey murmured, with all the enthusiasm of someone bartering away their soul. “I promise.”

“Good.” It wasn’t, but it felt like the right thing to say. “This is… This is bad, Rhodey.”

“Yeah, Tony, I know.”

He dropped his head into his hands, strained and exhausting and defeated. Peter was all it took, and Iron Man was down, decimated, conquered.

“If… If they show me a picture of him alive,” he whispered, and he knew he was saying something awful, admitting something dark and frightening, “and then they tell me to aim missiles at… at some hospital full of refugees on the Syrian border, they’re counting on the fact that a father would-”

“But you wouldn’t.”

His head snapped back up, and he nearly laughed at the conviction in Rhodey’s voice. God, had everyone really forgotten who he truly was? The heroism of Iron Man was an act. It was a stage curtain, drawn down to hide the monster underneath. Tony Stark was not a good man. He was certainly not a selfless one.

Yet he was so good at pretending that even his best friend believed the ruse.

He turned to stare at Rhodey, voice low. “I might.”

And that might be the most important thing I’ve ever said to you.

The corner of Rhodey’s mouth quirked up, like some part of this was actually amusing to him. “There are people around you who won’t let you.”

He couldn’t possibly be this good at deception. Had Rhodey actually forgotten? Had he forgotten that Tony hadn’t always been an Avenger, that the Merchant of Death was still a title that haunted him? Somedays, he was almost certain that he was more Merchant of Death than he was Iron Man. More a war-profiteer than he was an idol.

“What about a picture?” He said, because he didn’t know how to stop. He’d never known how to stop. “They’ve got a knife to his throat, and they tell me to send a Jericho missile to a bunker in Afghanistan?”

Rhodey shook his head. “You shouldn’t think of images like that.”

This time, he did laugh. Rhodey flinched, concern etched in every inch of his face, because yeah, Tony probably looked like he was losing his mind. And wasn’t he? His child was missing. There was no sanity to this.

“All I can think of are images like that.”

“Tony…”

“I know it's a strange time to bring this up,” he said, and he knew it was abrupt, but nothing seemed quite so linear anymore, “but I forecasted this once. I made up a scary story a few years ago for Peter so that he’d take his protection seriously, and I… and I went too far. And I scared him.” He let out a breath, years-harbored shame rising in his chest. “And he cried. And this… this was the story.”

“Tony-”

“I’m supposed to keep him safe.” His shoulders jerked, his breath hitched. He bit his knuckles to hold back a sob, ribs creaking under the strain of keeping it in. “That’s… fuck, Rhodey, that’s my only job. I’m supposed to keep him safe.”

“You can’t protect him from everything.” There was a pause, hesitant. “The world doesn’t stop spinning just because he’s your child. He’s gotta find his way just like everybody else, and you were letting him do that.”

He wished it was as easy as that, as straightforward and simple to navigate, but it wasn’t. Once again, they’d found their way back to the same frustration he’d been helping Peter cope with for years: being a Stark was not normal. Nothing around them would ever be normal. Sure, the world didn’t stop spinning, but they had to operate differently inside of it, just because of Tony and his curse of a last name.

The money was nice. The fame was even pleasant, every once in a while. It certainly had been when he was young. But now? God, Tony just wanted quiet. He didn’t want this for his children. He’d give anything to drop off the radar, live in some middle-class neighborhood, buy a lawnmower, argue with Pepper about school districts.

“But they took him because he’s my child,” he pushed. They took him because they know it’ll break me. “This… This wouldn’t’ve happened to another kid, Rhodey. You know that.”

“Maybe not, but it did happen, and that’s what you’ve got to work with. Now, come inside,” Rhodey ordered, slicing a knife down on the conversation, as if ending the words could end the horrors still playing through Tony’s head. “Come inside, sit with your wife, and let us fix this.”

There is no fixing this. This will never be fixed.

But instead of staying that, he just did as he was told, and hoped that the next few hours wouldn’t bring him doing something awful in Peter’s name.

It was such a pure name, washed clean by kid who carried it. It didn’t deserve to be sullied by Tony’s true nature, by the darkness he dragged behind him like a chain.

God knows that enough had already been sacrificed on that altar.

--

It was daylight, and there were reporters outside.

Happy and his guys were keeping them back. Apparently, they’d released details of Peter’s kidnapping to the press in the hope that someone might’ve seen something, that they’d come forward with information. In these kinds of cases, one detail, one first person account, could be the difference between life and death.

They’d set up a hotline, and the team was already chasing a few leads, but the reporters were chasing the story, the sensationalism of it all, and Tony hated it.

His child wasn’t a headline. His child was a child. A living, breathing, precious person. Something be cradled and adored and protected. Not something be exploited for a melodramatic hook.

Pepper and Steve would talk about it in tense, hushed tones. A couple of the Avengers had gone out to talk to the gathered press, just once or twice, but Tony didn’t have a clue what they were saying.

What did other parents do when this sort of thing happened? When their child was taken from them? He remembered a few high-profile kidnappings, all distant and wobbly in his head. What did they do? Did they print flyers? Did they give interviews? Did they beg?

Wait. Wait. That’s… That’s exactly what parents did.

They begged. They pleaded. They told the kidnappers that they’d do whatever they wanted, as long as they got their baby back.

He staggered to his feet, a little wobbly but emotions finally hardening into something tangible, something he could focus on.

There were only a few things on Earth that Tony Stark was willing to swallow his pride for, and this… this was one of them. His children would always be one of them.

He was going to beg.

He only made it about four steps towards the cabin’s door before the team noticed. There were a solid few seconds of scattered glances, a rapid exchange of responsibilities, until Natasha stood and took the lead.

“Tony?” She grabbed at his arm, expression somehow soft and fierce all at once. “Tony, what are you doing?”

“I’m gonna make a direct appeal.”

The whole room went silent. He made the mistake of glancing at Clint’s face, and the raw pity there made him want to scream.

“Tony,” Nat said, voice quiet, coaxing, lowered like he was stupid, “you can’t.”

“I’m his father,” he choked out, because at the end of the day, that was the only thing that mattered, the only explanation that he should ever have to give. “I-I don’t even know why I’ve waited this long. I-”

And then Steve was there, reaching for his other arm, voice as calm and solid as it always was.

“Come on, Tony, let’s think this through-”

“Get away from me,�� he snapped.

“Tony-”

“I’m going to make a direct appeal,” he repeated, and even he knew that he sounded like a broken record, but he just… all he could see was Peter. The stupid grin on his face earlier that day, when Morgan had barreled into his chest and he’d scooped her up off the ground, spinning her like she was the one who just graduated, like she was the most valuable thing he’d ever held. “I don’t know why I waited this long.”

Nat sounded a little desperate now, pulling hard at his sleeve, warning. “Tony, I know that you’ve convinced yourself that you’re doing what’s right, but you’re not thinking straight-”

And then there was Pepper.

She planted herself between him and the door, firm and solid and Tony knew, he knew that he wasn’t getting past her. He knew it from the moment he saw the look on her face: devastated and loving and calm.

“Stop it, Tony,” she said, soft and kind.

He grabbed for her, taking fistfuls of her shirt and clinging. He felt like a little kid, confused and lost and alone. He was navigating whitewater rapids without a map or a paddle. He couldn’t… He couldn’t do this. People weren’t built to survive this kind of thing. It wasn’t possible.

“I… I have to make a direct-”

“No,” she murmured, cutting him off. “No, Tony, Natasha’s right. You can’t.”

“Why not?”

He had meant for the question to be abrasive, angry, but it just came out broken.

“It can be seen as negotiating with the people who took him,” Pepper said, not apologizing, not pulling punches, “and if their goal is to destabilize us, or Stark Industries, or the Avengers, then they're going to see you and know that they're succeeding.” She let out a breath, composure cracking just a little, just at the corners. “You… You can’t make a direct appeal.”

He knew she was right. He’d known she was right long before he’d even made the choice to do it.

It still felt like he’d been torn in two.

He sank to the floor. He was vaguely aware of Natasha grabbing his elbow, guiding him down so he didn’t hurt himself. She pushed him up against the wall, then stepped away, gave him the room he needed to crumble.

“Honey,” Pepper whispered, voice hitching, hands tracing down his face. He didn’t know when she’d joined him on the floor, but he… he was so glad she was there. He was so glad that someone was still there. “Honey, I…”

“I’ve seen other fathers do it,” he croaked. “Before. In… In other kidnappings. I’ve seen other fathers do it.”

“I know.”

“I thought… I just thought that, that maybe if I tried, then I would’ve… then I would’ve done something.”

“I know.”

“I can’t stand not doing something. I have to be doing something.”

“I know that, too.”

His eyes jerked up, meeting hers in a clash of long-harbored panic. “Pep… What if he’s…”

“He’s not.”

“How do you know?”

“Because you’re not other fathers,” she said gently, a sad smile on her face. “Other fathers make direct appeals because that’s all they can do. They’re going to want to negotiate, Tony.”

“I… I can’t negotiate, Pep. Not… Not for him. How could I?”

“I know that. That’s why I’m going to do it.”

He blinked. That was… a good idea. He didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of it before. Pepper had never, ever lost a deal that mattered. Ever. She had a spotless track record. And while she loved Peter, she wasn’t as shredded by this as he was. Her head was still above the water, at least for now.

Pepper had joked, once, a little bitterly, that Peter was all Tony’s kid, she just helped out with the details. He knew that wasn’t entirely true, of course. She’d stepped up for Peter in ways that had mattered beyond her comprehension, but she wasn’t entirely wrong, either. Peter had been his kid long before he’d been Pepper’s. And that changed dynamics. It had to.

“You have to bring him home.”

“We will, Tony,” Pepper said, and Tony wished with everything he had that he could drown himself in her belief, her faith. “We’re going to do everything we can to bring him back to you.”

He tried to ignore the fact that, as promises went, she’d just given him a pretty unstable one.

--

Tony was still sitting on the floor, staring blankly into nothing, when the alert chimed in.

He didn’t think anything of it, at first, and he supposed that he’d been doing a lot of that tonight. Staring past the obvious, overlooking the signs because ignorance was so blessed and calm compared to knowing.

But then Natasha’s face went hard, and she was waving for Steve, and then he was waving for Rhodey, and then he was waving for Pepper, and Tony realized that something had just gone very, very wrong.

He staggered upright, making a beeline for the rapidly growing group huddled around Natasha’s laptop. He couldn’t see past their shoulders, couldn’t even hear what they were saying, because so many voices were intersecting and overlapping in every other beat, and it was enough to make him want to scream.

“Is it Peter?” He snapped, and Steve swung to face him, face a mixture of pity and concern.

“Tony…”

That was all the answer he’d needed. It was Peter, then. Hell, what else would it be?

Something else had happened to Peter. Somewhere in his gut, he knew it was bad. Awful. Nothing that he wanted to see.

And yet he knew that he had to.

He tried to push past Steve’s restraining hand, craning his neck to catch of glimpse of the screen. “What is it?”

“It’s a ransom note,” Natasha said, forever to the point. He’d never appreciated that personality trait more than he did in that exact moment.

“And they sent a picture,” Steve added.

The world snapped to a halt. He felt hysterical. Unhinged. And Steve… Steve didn’t understand. None of them did, except maybe Clint. He was a father and he’d been torn away from his child. He just… He just wanted him back, even if it was in the form of a picture. Even if it was through a ransom note.

“Is it of Peter?!” He tried to lunge forward again, and failed. Damn Steve’s super strength. He wished he had the suit. “The… The picture. Is the picture of Peter?”

“Yeah, Tony, it is, but you have to understand-”

“Let me see,” he snarled. “He’s my kid. It’s for me. So let me see it.”

To his surprise, the group all exchanged glances, different people in varying degrees of sympathetic pain, and parted.

The image had obviously been taken with a polaroid camera, and then scanned or faxed alongside the handwritten ransom note. The quality was bad, but it was clear enough to show details. It… It wasn’t grainy enough to spare him.

Peter was tied to a chair, a dirty gag shoved into his mouth, digging into his cheeks. The kidnappers had tossed a newspaper into his lap, proof of life with the date clearly shown, but that wasn’t what caught Tony’s attention. No, it was Peter’s face that ached, somewhere deep in his gut. If he was a spiritual man, he would’ve said that it ached in his soul.

He knew his kid. Knew his eyes like he’d never known anything else. And that photo? It was wrong. Peter wasn’t just scared: he was drugged out of his mind. In fact, it was the general lack of fear in the kid’s gaze that disturbed him the most. He looked too incoherent for any emotion other than exhaustion.

He’d seen Peter high before, always after Spider-Man related injuries, but it’d never been like this. It had always been monitored, consensual, safe, and nothing they’d given him had ever made him vacant. He was usually just sleepy or giggly or both. He’d… He’d never looked so detached.

It made Tony want to hold him, shield him, but now he couldn’t do either of those things and it hurt.

“Oh, god,” he gasped, panic attack smacking right into him without warning, without a single chance to batten down the hatches. “Fuck.”

The world tilt-a-whirled. He felt Rhodey grab him, push and pull and tug him until he was sitting on the couch. His head was shoved between his knees, and conversations pinged around above him without any of the words computing. All he could hearseethink was Peter, Peter, Peter.

If I was a better father, none of this would’ve ever happened.

Eventually, someone grabbed his shoulders, hauled him upright, and it took him a full minute to realize it was Rhodey.

“Tony,” the Colonel said, and he sounded serious, like whatever he was saying was final, no arguments allow. “I’m going to call Bruce, alright?”

Yes. Yes. Bruce… Bruce would be good now. He’d heard them whispering about sedating him earlier, off in corners and hallways, when they thought he was too absorbed in his grief to notice. At the time, the thought had made his heart race, terror and revulsion making him paranoid. He couldn’t check out. He couldn’t. What use would he be to Peter like that?

Now, he’d lunge for just about anything that would take this feeling away. That would let him pull back from the grainy images of Peter’s eyes: glassy, unfocused, afraid and confused and lacking in that spark that would lull Tony into moments of forgetfulness. Moments when he’d genuinely have to remind himself that Morgan was the one with his DNA, not Peter.

“Tell him,” he gasped, eyes squeezed shut against the things he didn’t want to see, the photo that he’d never be able to forget, “tell him that I want whatever it is that Peter got.”

--

He didn’t know how long he slept for, but he knew that when he woke up, he woke up groggy. Groggy enough that, for a shamefully calm half hour, he forgot that Peter was missing.

And then he remembered, and he lost his child all over again.

F.R.I.D.A.Y. must’ve alerted Pepper when his heartrate spiked, because she slipped into the room within two minutes. She sat beside him, hand resting on his hip through their comforter. Her eyes were red, but she smiled like it was just another Tuesday, like their entire world wasn’t crumbling down around their feet, and he envied her. He envied her the composure. The ability to catalogue the things that were important and the things that weren’t.

“Hey,” she whispered.

“Hey.”

“I thought you’d sleep longer than this.”

He pursed his lips, ignored the implicit suggestion in the words. “Anything new?”

“No.”

He nodded, took in the disappointment slowly, wondered how long he could survive living in limbo. There were thousands upon thousands of unsolved missing persons cases in the United States alone. Every hour that crawled by lessened their chances of bringing Peter home alive, or even bringing him home at all. How could Tony possibly be one of those parents, the ones who spent the rest of their heartbeats agonizing over their child’s loss?

Are they still alive, hidden somewhere out in the world, vulnerable and unprotected? Are they dead? Which option is better: knowing that they’re alive, and suffering, or dead and free? Oh, god. What was it like, at the end? Were they afraid? Did they cry? Did they call out for their dad, because he was the one person who was always meant to save them?

Tony hadn’t been there for the start of Peter’s life. And now it might be over, Peter might be gone, and he hadn’t even been there for that, too. Couldn’t even say if it had happened.

“What time is it?” He asked, just to distract himself. Besides, every hour marked a dwindling statistic. Tony needed to know if they stood a chance, if there was still even a sliver of hope, and someone must’ve closed the curtains after he’d gone to bed, so he couldn’t quite see if there was daylight or darkness behind them.

“7:30.”

“Oh,” he whispered. That was later than he’d thought. The graph in his head nosedived. “Bruce gave me something.”

Pepper’s face twitched, eyes bleeding sympathy. “I know. I’m so sorry, honey.”

“They gave… They gave Peter something, too,” he choked out, “and… and he said that it made him feel sick and I wasn’t there to take care of him.”

Pepper’s blink lasted a good few seconds longer than it should’ve, as if watching Tony crumble was too much for her to watch, but the rest of her stayed steady. “It wasn’t your fault.”

He swallowed, trying to stamp down the perpetual helplessness that had taken residence in his gut, replace it with something else, something he could hold.

“How’s Morgan?”

“She’s okay. She’s been asking to see you.”

“I wanna see her.”

“In a minute.” Pepper slid her hand through his hair, voice soft, the kind of tone she used with Morgan or Peter when they were upset. “Try to relax a little first.”

“I had a dream,” he blurted. He knew that this was probably the opposite of what Pepper meant by relaxing, but he couldn’t help it. “I was in Peter’s bedroom, but it was… it was before. Right after May died. Remember… Remember how he wouldn’t get out of bed?”

For a split second, Pepper’s face flashed from composure to devastation, but it was so brief that it was easy to imagine that it had never happened at all. “Of course I remember. He wouldn’t get up, so you used to go in there and sit with him.”

“Yeah,” he whispered, and he smiled despite himself. He treasured those memories just as much as he wished they’d never happened. Helping Peter grieve for May was an ongoing tragedy, and one of the hardest things he’d ever had to watch, but once the initial aftershocks ended, Tony had gained a second child. “He’d curled up in my lap, and I was holding him. We didn’t… We weren’t even talking. I was just holding him.”

He swallowed, breath hitching. He met Pepper’s eyes, trying desperately to convey something that just wasn’t possible to capture in words. A loss, a fear, a weakening hope.

“Pep,” he whispered, hoarse and crackling, “Pep, I was holding him, but then I woke up and he wasn’t there.”

She didn’t say anything. Didn’t apologize, or promise that they’d get him back.

She just reached out and took his hand.

--

It was just past 11:00 when Rhodey pushed into the bedroom.

For a split second, Tony assumed the worst. But then,

“We found him,” Rhodey breathed. Beside him, Pepper gasped, like she couldn’t believe it. “Happy got a lead and, well, it doesn’t really matter. But we’ve got him, Tones. Steve’s got him.”

--

The flight from New York to Calverton, Virginia took an hour. They left Morgan back at the cabin, with Clint’s wife. Tony half considered bringing her, but he didn’t know what shape Peter would be in, physically or mentally. And he… he didn’t want to frighten her, although he supposed that was a moot point after the last 48 hours.

When this was all over, Tony promised himself that he’d apologize to both his children, for lots of different things.

For now, he just wanted Peter. He wanted to hold him, like in his dream but real. He wanted a moment that he couldn’t wake up from.

He mostly ignored Rhodey’s explanation of how they’d tracked the kidnappers down. It was complicated and had something to do with a gas station and a random college kid who’d seen Peter’s picture on the news. Happenstance, really. They’d gotten lucky.

“Is he alright?” Pepper asked, and Tony was glad that someone rational was thinking of the important things. “Did they hurt him?”

“The medics think that he may have a clavicle fracture,” Rhodey said. Tony could feel his eyes on him even though he was staring at his feet. “His kidnappers set off some tear gas and stun grenades when the team went it, so he’s got some irritation and ringing in his ears. No sign of sexual assault, but he’s still pretty out of it. They’re running a tox screen to make sure we’re not in danger of any overdoses.”

Tony looked up. He flexed his hands out in front of him, wincing when his wrists popped. “Is he asking for me?”

“Yeah. Steve said that that’s pretty much the only thing he’s said, too. Asked where you were a couple times and checked out.”

Tony bit his lip. Peter had been drugged, beaten, surrounded by doctors he didn’t know and thrown right into the chaos of a crime scene, and yet he’d still looked up at strangers and asked for him.

“Does he know I’m coming?”

“The medics told him.” Rhodey reached across the seats and grabbed his elbow as they started to descend, engines whining. “Hey, look at me. You sure you’re good to do this?”

He blinked, barely even processing the words.

What kind of question is that?

“This,” he started, quiet enough that there was no way Rhodey would’ve heard him if they didn’t have headsets, “is my job.”

“If he sees you upset, it’s gonna make him even more upset.”

“He won’t see me upset.”

Rhodey groaned, and it kind of hurt that nobody seemed to believe he was capable of parenting his own goddamn kid, no matter what emotional state he was in. “Tony, you’re-”

“Very good at this,” he finished, cutting off whatever Rhodey actually meant to say. He imagined he wouldn’t’ve liked it much, anyway. “I’m very good at this.”

“I know you are, Tony, but this has been a rough-”

“He won’t know I’m upset,” he snarled, voice dangerous, and it felt so good to have a purpose. To have something to curl over and protect. “He won’t.”

Rhodey sighed, defeated. He didn’t look like he believed him, but Tony didn’t really care. “Alright. Just be careful, okay? Don’t go overboard.”

Overboard. Of course he was gonna go overboard. He was gonna go overboard with absolutely everything for the rest of Peter’s life.

He didn’t bother walking when the helicopter landed. He just bolted, weaving through police and paramedics and FBI agents and what felt like a thousand other pointless uniforms. Pepper and Rhodey both tailed him, not missing a beat.

Nobody had told him where Peter was, and it was pitch black outside, midnight having only recently come and gone. The only light came from the dozens of different emergency signals spread out across the field, blue and red and yellow and every other color of the rainbow, all blinking at their own dizzying frequencies. There was no logical way that he should’ve been able to find his kid in that chaos, and yet his feet just took him there, like they’d walked this path a million times, even though he wasn’t sure that he’d ever been within a hundred miles of Calverton before.

He saw the security before he saw his kid. There were about ten guards holding a perimeter around the solitary ambulance, and Tony made a mental note to give Happy a goddamn raise once this was all over.

And then there was Peter, and every single mental note he’d ever made evaporated into thin air.

He was slouched over on the back of the ambulance, orange shock blanket folded over his shoulders. He was bloody, bruised. There was dirt and ash all over his face, but none of that mattered at all because he was still the most beautiful, wonderful, breathtaking thing Tony had ever seen.

“Peter!” His voice broke with the force of the shout. “Peter!”

Despite everything, Peter recognized him right away. His head turned towards the sound, and his arms lifted up, fingers curling weakly in the air.

“Tony?”

“Here,” he gasped, skidding to a stop in front of the kid. “I’m right here, Pete. I’m right here.”

He grabbed Peter’s face between his hands, dragged the pads of his thumbs along the curve of his cheekbones, brushing away tear-smudged grime, and all his anguish evaporated. Gone. He knew it’d return, at some point, probably in the folds of night, far away from where anyone but Pepper could see it, but for now he was calm, capable. He felt in control, because that was the only thing he was allowed to be. Because that was exactly what Peter needed him to be.

He’d meant what he’d said to Rhodey. He was good at this.

“Hey there, buddy,” he whispered. He sniffed hard against the tears building in his throat, but he was grinning so wide that his cheeks ached. “You really got yourself into a mess this time, huh?”

“He’s been a little too close to unresponsive for our tastes,” one of the medics offered, and he glanced up to her. She had a sympathetic smile on her face, soft and kind, “but we were hoping that having dad here might help.”

He nodded, hoping that his expression conveyed the thanks he didn’t have the breath to voice, and turned his attention back to Peter. “Hey, hey,” he cooed, shifting Peter’s face a little, trying to get a reaction. “You with me, squirt?”

Peter looked dazed, pupils blown so wide that Tony could barely find any brown in his eyes at all, but there was recognition there, too. Drowsy and subdued, but recognition all the same.

“‘M with you,” he slurred, blinking hard. “I don’ feel very good.”

“I know, squirt. We’re gonna fix that, okay?”

Peter nodded, then slumped forward into his chest, nose digging into the crook of his neck. “‘M sorry. Didn’… Didn’ mean it.”

Tony had expected the apology, but it still felt like a slap in the face. “Shh, shh. None of this was your fault, kiddo.”

I’m sorry I didn’t do enough to protect you.

“‘M so glad you’re here,” Peter mumbled, and Tony wondered if he even knew that he was talking. “Kept asking for you. They said you w’re coming.”

Tony could feel each one of Peter’s breaths on his skin, warm and slow and relaxed. He’d heard about hostage victims being keyed-up on release, jumpy and paranoid, and just here his kid was: practically dozing off in his arms, murmuring apologies and sermons of faith, easy and relaxed just because Tony was here. Because Tony was holding him.

“Of course I was coming,” he managed to choke out. “I’ll always come for you, Pete. I’m always gonna come for you.”

“Mm. I know. Always got me.”

He’d never deserve this. Never. He could spend the rest of his life devoted to charity, to selflessness, and yet there would never come a day when he would deserve his children.

It should’ve been a disheartening thought, but it wasn’t. It was humbling. It made him feel grateful.

He found the gaze of the nurse who’d first spoken to him, fingers threading slowly through Peter’s hair. “Can I take him?”

“Of course,” she said. “But he’ll need x-rays to confirm that fracture, and fluids, and I wouldn’t let him go unmonitored until his tox screens start coming back clear. You have someone back at base who can do all that?”

“Absolutely.”

“Then he’s all yours.”

He wrapped the shock blanket more firmly around Peter’s shoulders, dreaming of the moment he could tear it off, burn it, and replace it with one of the red fleece ones Pepper had brought back from a conference in Colorado at the end of Peter’s senior year. He couldn’t wait until they could finally peel off the layers of this night and replace them with new memories, with new things, with good, peaceful, mundane things.

“I’m gonna take you home now, Pete,” he whispered, fisting his hand desperately in the back of the kid’s shirt. “We’re gonna go home.”

--

Peter slept straight through the helicopter ride back to New York, legs stretched over Tony’s lap like a cat. He woke up just long enough for Tony to guide him to his bedroom (Tony had to coach him up the stairs like it was his first encounter with the concept), but he was out again as soon as he reached his bed. Cho and Bruce both assured him that there was nothing to be concerned about, that his body was just burning off the drugs, but it didn’t stop him from laying Peter against his chest and keeping a finger on his pulse.

Cho and Bruce must’ve sensed that he wanted nothing more than to be left alone with his kid, because they rushed through the process of converting Peter’s bedroom into a makeshift hospital suite. Peter roused a little when Cho placed his IV, but only enough to make a mild noise of displeasure and bury himself more firmly into Tony’s arms. Otherwise, Peter seemed perfectly content to let Tony deal with the world for him.

That was fine. That was more than fine, actually. It was exactly what he’d been wanting to do for days.

Pepper wandered in and out of the room, spreading her time between them and Morgan. Bruce popped in to give him the tox screen results, but he left almost as soon as he came. He didn’t know what the rest of the team was doing, but he knew that Rhodey had stayed behind in Calverton, with Happy.

The longer he spent unwinding, the more he wished he’d asked better questions.

He didn’t have a clue what had actually happened to Peter, didn’t know if his kidnappers were captured or dead, or if they’d escaped. He didn’t know anything.

Steve knocked on the doorframe after a few hours of pointless wondering, shifting nervously on his feet. It was as if Tony had put an impassable barrier around Peter’s bed, the kind that no one could see but everyone could feel. Nobody was brave enough to touch it.

“You can come it,” he said, amused. “I don’t bite.”

Steve took two steps forward, then stopped, clearly having no intention of moving any farther. “I don’t mean to intrude-”

He rolled his eyes. “What do you need, Steve?”

“The press is clamoring for a statement,” Steve said, after a brief moment of hesitation, “preferably in person.”

Tony pushed some of Peter’s hair back from his forehead, forcing himself to ignore the tiny cuts and bruises littering the kid’s face. “Giving a statement would involve leaving this room.”

Steve just nodded. “I understand.” He gestured in Peter’s direction, stiff and unsure, like he was treading on ice. “How is he?”

Tony smiled. He really didn’t know why everyone seemed so determined to dance around the topic of Peter, especially now that he was home. It wasn’t a touchy subject, it was Tony’s favorite subject.

“He’s sleeping, safe and sound.”

“I’m glad.”

“They ran a tox screen,” he offered. “He’s got GBH and ecstasy and a couple other pretty nasty things in his system. Cho’s confident that the fluids should help him metabolize it. F.R.I.D.A.Y. confirmed that he’s got a small fracture in his collarbone, but his healing should take care of it pretty quickly once his body recalibrates.” He smiled, eyes never leaving Peter’s face. “He’ll be back to playing Mario Kart with Morgan in no time.”

“Good.” Steve walked around to his side of the bed, steps slow and measured. “Do you want me to give you the details of everything now, or later?”

“Give me the essentials. Are they dead?”

“Yeah.” Relief shot through him. “Clint got two with his arrows. The other one was sleeping when we came in. He tried to grab a weapon, but Nat got to him first. Sam found Peter locked in a closet in the back bedroom.”

The rage he felt at the detail conflicted with the tenderness that rose with every second he spent with his children. In the end, he set the anger aside. He didn’t need it, right now. It wouldn’t made Peter heal faster.

“You sure there were only three?”

“We’re looking into it, but we’re nearly positive.”

He dipped his head in Peter’s direction. “How was he when you found him?”

Darkness swooped over Steve’s face, and his voice went hard. “Not great.” A pause. “You think he’ll be alright?”

“Without a doubt,” he said, and he meant it. “He’s a tough kid, and he’s got a good therapist. Pretty sure there isn’t anything he can’t tackle and come out the winner.”

“And what about you?” Steve asked, as sincere as Tony had ever heard him. “Will you be alright?”

He smoothed his palm down Peter’s back, and thought back to his dream. He’d imagined the whole thing wrong, he realized. The joy he’d felt then hadn’t captured even a single fraction of the joy he was feeling now.

“Of course I’ll be alright,” he said, like it was obvious. “I’ve got the best family in the world.”

--

--

--

Natasha had never been in Peter’s room before. Then again, she’d very rarely been the cabin, either. Tony had gone out of his way to keep his family shielded from everyone, even the team.

After everything they’d been through, she had a hard time blaming him for that.

Tony and Peter were both asleep when she poked her head through the door. She guessed that it was probably the first time either of them had had any real rest in days. Even unconscious, Tony had placed himself between Peter and the door, arms wrapped tightly around the kid, as if someone was going to try to steal him when he wasn’t looking.

Bruce and Cho had turned the bedroom into a makeshift hospital room, monitors and an IV pole tucked up in a corner, but it didn’t change the cozy atmosphere. A few framed sci-fi posters littered the walls, but there were family pictures as well: everything from photobooth strips to professional portraits.

For a brief few seconds, she let herself wonder what it would’ve been like to grow up in a place that felt like a home.

Pepper ended up catching her attention before the thoughts could go too far. She was the only other person in the room, and, unlike Tony and Peter, she was actually awake. She beckoned for her to come in, posture as relaxed as Natasha had ever seen it.

“Hey,” Pepper greeted, voice just above a whisper. “Are you here for Tony?”

“I am.”

“Can it wait?”

Her eyes flickered up to the pair curled around each other on the bed, and she made her decision without a hint of hesitation. “I’ll make it wait.”

Pepper shot her a genuine smile. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. How are they?”

Pepper leaned forward in her chair, and brushed the back of Peter’s hand gently. It was a mother’s touch, kind and adoring. She tried not to stare.

“Peter’s still pretty out of it, but he’s been talking to Tony, so that’s a step in the right direction. It might take a while for his metabolism to clear out all the shit they pumped into him, but his vitals are holding steady.”

“Did the tox screen come back?”

Pepper sighed. “It did. It’s a miracle Tony didn’t have an aneurism when Cho read it to us. They gave him GHB and ecstasy, among a few other things, but there’s nothing we can do about it except wait.”

That certainly wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been. She hadn’t said it out loud, but she’d been prepping herself for the possibility that by the time they found the kid, they’d have already OD’d him.

She’d seen those kinds of bodies before, and they weren’t pretty. She wasn’t sure how Tony’s would’ve handled it.

Speaking of which…

“And how’s Tony?”

Pepper’s face softened even more at the mention of her husband. She reached out to adjust his shirt, tone warm. “His baby’s back, so all’s right with the world again. At least for now.” She let out an exhausted breath. “And after everything that’s happened, I’ll take for now.”

She wondered if Pepper had slept since Peter’s graduation. The more she analyzed the past few days, the more she came to the conclusion that she hadn’t.

“I doubt Peter’ll be allowed out of his sight for the next few weeks.”

“Weeks?” Pepper snorted, a rare slip of her polish. Natasha guessed that she saw it more than the boys did. “Oh, Peter’s going to have Tony following him around for the next decade at least. It’ll be sweet for a while, because at first he’ll actually enjoy the coddling, but then both of them are going to make my life a living hell.”

Natasha just smiled. There wasn’t even a hint of genuine aggravation in Pepper’s voice: just relief. “You can’t wait, can you?”

Pepper’s face lit up. “God, Nat, I’ve never been more ecstatic over the thought of the two of them snipping at each other in my life.”

She laughed, careful not to disturb either of Pepper’s charges, then took a cautious step towards the door. As much as she enjoyed Pepper’s company, there were still a million things to be done. She’d handle the paperwork, and she’d let the parents handle the kid.

She wasn’t really qualified for the gushy stuff.

“I’ll let you spend some time with your family.”

“Actually, Nat, before you go…” Pepper paused, chewing on the words, “just, well, thank you. People are never able to forget that Peter’s Tony’s child, but they tend to overlook that he’s mine now, too. He’s been mine for nearly six years. And I know that I’ll never love him like Tony does, but… but I still love him, and I’m still grateful.”

“I’m just doing my job,” she said, smile tight.

“It’s a good job, Nat.”

She backed the rest of the way into the hall. “Yeah, it is.”

The door clicked shut, and she just barely inclined her head to the security guard that was stationed outside of it. They’d be a common presence around here, for a while, at least until Stark re-found that tenuous balance between keeping his kids safe and letting them live.

She’d been worried about Peter, before. If there was anyone in the world who understood trauma, understood what it could do to your soul, it was Natasha Romanoff, but she knew now that Peter Parker had something that she’d never had.

He had people who gave a shit. People who’d make sure that he was fine.

She wondered if he knew how lucky he had it.

[themangledsans0508]

Sleepover Surprises

Tweek approached the pale green house cautiously, clinging the straps of his bags tightly. He didn’t know why he agreed to this, he could be doing anything else tonight. Instead, he was sleeping over at Wendy Testaburger’s house, most likely to be pressed about the details of his relationship. At least it wouldn’t be just the two of them, the New Kid (who’s name he still didn’t know) would also be there.

He liked Wendy well enough, along with Douche-bag, he just got rather stressed when it came to sleepovers, and Wendy could convince anyone to divulge their deepest secrets. Douche-bag, on the other hand, preferred to keep to himself, nobody really knew anything about him, but Wendy trusted the two of them to let them sleepover at her house.

He knocked on the door, hoping that no one would answer and he could just go home, or maybe go to Craig’s house. Alas, no such thing happened, and a tall man answered the door.

“Yes?” He recognized the man as Wendy’s father, confirming he was at the right house.

“Wendy invited me over for a sleepover,” he said, twitching slightly.

“She’s upstairs in her room with some other kid.” He motioned him inside. Tweek looked around the house as he made his way up the stairs. He heard laughter and muffled talking and followed it to Wendy’s room. He knocked first to be polite and not walk in on something he didn’t want to see.

“Come in!” Wendy called. Tweek slowly opened the door and inspected the room.

The room was a soft pink, with a yellow rim around the bottom that looked like clouds. There were flower and animal decals all around, and a few posters. The floor had a teal circle rug with a red bean bag chair and an orange lounge chair. There was also a pink desk and the bed had purple blankets on it.

Wendy and Douche-bag sat on the floor, nail polish spread out between them. There were lots of different shades of pink and purple on display, along with other colors that had not been taken out of the basket yet. Wendy’s nails were painted rose pink, and the pair was currently applying lilac polish to Douche-bag's nails.

“Hey, Tweek! Come sit down! We don’t have to paint your nails, but Willow doesn’t have any nail polish at home so we’re doing them now!”

“Willow? That’s your name?” Tweek asked and Willow nodded. “That’s a pretty weird name for a boy.” Wendy scanned him.

“She’s not a boy, Tweek,” she informed him. Tweek blinked a few times.

“Why didn’t you tell us, dude?” Willow shifted uncomfortably. There were some soft words exchanged between Wendy and Willow before she spoke.

“I’ve lost friends because of it. Before I moved here to South Park. Here, I got jumped by rednecks,” she said quietly. 

“That’s one of the reasons I asked you two to a sleepover. Besides just wanting to hang out, because we have to hang out before you can call me ‘girlfriend’ Tweek, you don’t have those privileges yet. But, you’re both LGBT.” Tweek nodded. He’d heard that acronym before, specifically with Mr Mackey and PC Principal. Neither had really explained what it meant, however.

“I’ve heard that before. What does it mean?” Tweek questioned. Wendy looked at him in surprise.

“You’re not really in the gay community much online, are you? And nobody told you either, Jesus. It’s lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender. There’s also a plus, which incorporates the rest of the community. Since we now have two fully out kids and one partially out, plus at least five I can name who are in the closet, plus myself, I think we should have a pride alliance at our school.”

“What’s a pride alliance?”

“A group for LGBT people so they can support each other, participate in activism, and educate people. Because you guys know that a lot of kids in our school, even LGBT kids, make homophobic and trans-phobic jokes or just know nothing about any of it. Tweek, for a lot of kids, you and Craig were the first gay people they’ve ever met. With Mr Garrison gone, Big Gay Al and Mr Slave keeping to themselves, and Ned and Jimbo running a gun shop and just seeming like your average rednecks. Willow, you’re the first transgender person almost everyone in town has met. We need to raise awareness. Willow, you’ve already told me about some things people have said to and about you.”

Tweek looked at Willow, who was looking away from the group and carefully pulling at the rug so she didn’t ruin her nails. She looked embarrassed like she was ashamed that she had been harassed. 

“What was said to you?” Tweek asked gently.

“You know, like, people called me a tranny, called me a ‘thing’, and said I’m not a real girl because I have a dick. Stuff like that, it’s fine,” she said quietly. Tweek would have never guessed that someone who faced a literal eldritch monster could be so shy. 

“It’s not fine, sis. These things aren’t okay. I know some of these people might be your friends, but it’s still not okay.” Wendy placed a hand on her shoulder in a reassuring gesture with a soft smile on her face.

“Tweek, you and I have heard lots of bad things about gay people in our school. A lot from Cartman, but a lot from other people too.” Tweek nodded, he’d heard a lot of things. Probably the only reason nobody went after him was that he was dating Craig Tucker and that they both had gotten into fights and could hold their own. Plus, Craig was a respected person in their school as someone who didn’t take shit.

“Okay, so I think we need a pride alliance, do you guys agree?” Wendy looked to them for a genuine response. Both Willow and Tweek nodded.

“Great! With that out of the way, now we can really just hang out!” Wendy waved her hands excitedly. 

“Tweek, do you want your nails painted?” Wendy asked. Tweek hesitated. He wanted to try it again as himself and not a metro-sexual, but he didn’t want to break the barrier that kept him safe from ridicule.

He decided fuck it if anyone wanted to cause trouble him or Craig could deal with it.

“Sure, why not!” Tweek grinned. Maybe it would help him stop picking at his nails. Wendy started filing through her containers of polish. She and Willow exchanged words that Tweek couldn’t hear due in part to the clinking of glass. Willow looked him over and whispered to Wendy. Wendy paused for a moment and looked up at Tweek.

“We can do any color you want, but we recommend green or blue. Green compliments your usual outfit, while blue highlights your eyes,” Wendy suggested.

Tweek debated the options. He’d rather not do a different color since he didn’t really know much about fashion and things going together, he wanted to understand it first. Green was his favorite color, but blue was Craig’s favorite color. He decided green, he’d do blue next time.

“Green,” he said. Tweek watched Wendy take out different shades of green and Willow inspect them. After about ten rejected shades, Willow showed one to Wendy. Wendy nodded and turned to Tweek.

“What do you think about this shade? It’s pastel.” Tweek looked at the color. It was only a bit darker than some of the other shades and he didn’t know how they had decided on this specific one.

“Whatever you guys think, you’re the experts,” he shrugged. 

“Well then give me your hand, I’m steadier than Willow since she’s new.” Wendy held his wrist tightly so he wouldn’t twitch and mess up her work while Willow watched.

“You said Willow’s new, well how long have you been painting nails, Willow?” he asked. She counted on her fingers.

“About two weeks, since I only started after we stopped playing with that damned stick. And that’s also when my dad let me start using it.” Tweek recognized her tone of voice. It was the same one he used when he talked to Craig about his parents, one of sadness and bitterness. He wanted to show he understood where she was coming from.

“The only reason my parents accepted me was that it would be good for their business, not because I was their son,” Tweek said bitterly. 

“Guys, I hate to break it to you, but your parents are terrible,” Wendy interrupted. Tweek looked at Wendy with a scowl that wasn’t directed at her.

“You have no idea,” he muttered. 

Willow didn’t say anything, instead, she checked her nails to make sure she hadn’t accidentally smudged the lilac. He noticed Wendy debating something in her head and wondered if he should ask her about it. However, Wendy focused on Tweek’s nails again and he figured she had decided not to say anything.

“Wendy,” Tweek said, “that wasn’t the only real reason you invited us here, right?” Wendy shook her head.

“No, I wanted to hang out, and-” she got a mischievous grin on her face, “ask how your boyfriend is.” Tweek laughed.

“I thought that was a reason.”

“Can you blame her? I had to get you two back together.” Willow said.

“There’s that voice of yours!” Wendy wrapped her arm around Willow’s shoulder and squeezed. 

“Well, I really love your relationship, it’s healthy and it’s a good example of how to support your partner through difficult moments. Like Tweek, I don’t know if you’re open about it but I can tell you have anxiety. And as far as I’ve seen, fighting alongside you two in battle and risking our lives together, Craig really does his best to help you stay grounded,” Willow explained, “Also, I want to try and get more comfortable around you, I think you’re a friend of mine.”

“Aww, Willow, you want to be closer friends with Tweek? I’m glad I planned this sleepover,” Wendy grinned. 

“I mean, everything you said is true as long as he doesn’t start being a jerk. Sometimes he gets moody, but we’re working on that. We have a long time to work everything out,” Tweek disclosed. Wendy nodded.

“Yeah, that makes sense. He might be hot but he also is a dick, to like, everyone but you,” Wendy said. Willow nodded in agreement.

“Wait, that’s my boyfriend! He’s hot but he’s mine. Back off, girlfriend,” Tweek joked. Willow laughed.

“It’s true though, both parts. He is pretty attractive but he seemed to at best tolerate his friends, or downright insult them. He treated me and Jimmy the same and made fun of Clyde constantly. But for you, he makes almost every exception. He’s welcome to touch, sweet words, and emotions. From what I’ve heard, he didn’t even feel emotions. However when I went to get help him and when I gave him the couple’s counselling slip, he actually showed something,” Willow explained. Tweek fidgeted with his hair using his free hand, which had yet to be painted.

“I mean, he does help me get a hold of myself pretty often but sometimes he makes it worse but it’s not like he’s trying, it just happens,” Tweek explained, “Wendy, do you remember when President Garrison made all those tweets about me being this person I’m not and making North Korea hate me?” It took Wendy a few moments of visible confusion to process what he had said.

“That week with the distracted driving and suicide awareness things going on?” she clarified. 

“Yeah, but Craig tried to help me by explaining away my feelings, and we got in a fight. It made me so stressed I skipped school, and I felt terrible until he came home after school and-”

“Wait, did you say came home? Like you two live together? That’s so cute!” Wendy said excitedly. Tweek quickly waved his hands like he could dismiss the words.

“No! No, okay, maybe we basically live together, I go to his house all the time because it’s nice there and he comes over to calm me down or help me but we don’t live together!” Tweek rambled, “I’m going to finish my story. So, he came to my house, and he didn’t try to reason away any of my feelings he just listened. It was nice.”

“That’s what a healthy couple would do,” Willow stated.

“They are a healthy couple,” Wendy retorted half-jokingly.

“I know, healthier than half the married couples I’ve seen here.”

“Yeah, and I never got thanked for showing the school Yaoi art, which got you a boyfriend Tweek.” He felt the tips of his ears heat up. Yeah, that’s how they started fake-dating, and then real dating, but it was also incredibly embarrassing for art of him and Craig to be all over the town.

“That was so embarrassing, it forced me to come out! Craig didn’t even acknowledge how he felt back then, he just decided to ignore it because he felt like he’d be rejected by his friends and family and then he was basically forced into a relationship with me and his dad didn’t accept him at first and our relationship was fake at first and-” Tweek started spilling everything out, his breathing becoming irregular as he talked. His fingers tangled in his hair and he tugged lightly before someone else pulled his hand away from his hair and put it on the ground.

“Tweek, it’s okay. Take deep breaths,” Willow guided. Wendy squeezed his palm on the hand she was about finished with the paint on. He focused on their touch and slowly calmed down.

“Thank you,” he eventually managed to whisper.

“You’re welcome. I understand it’s okay,” Willow assured.

“How did you know how to help me?” he asked.

“Before I got prescribed medications, that’s how my best friend would calm me down.”

“You know, it kind of sucks that touch helps me calm down,” Tweek admitted, “Craig isn’t with me twenty-four seven, and most guys aren’t really into touching. They think it’s gay, it’s just not something they do.”

“That’s one thing us girls have over guys. We’re always touching each other because it’s not gay, it’s how we show we love each other. Tweek, as head of the council of girls, I welcome you to be treated as we treat each other. That means comfort touches,” Wendy declared. Tweek blinked a few times.

“There’s a council of girls?”

“Of course, we’re organised, unlike most of the boys. Sisterhood is no joke,” Wendy said.

“Okay, that makes sense. But you’re the head of them?”

“Yes, Willow is my aid because some of the girls are still sceptical of her, which is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. She’s as much a girl as any other member of the council,” Wendy mumbled bitterly. She then let Tweek’s hand go and took his other one. “Don’t fiddle with anything, it’ll ruin the polish. You can move it as soon as I’m done this one. Don’t listen to me and I’ll duct tape your hand so you can’t move it.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Willow, we’ll do your makeup after we’re done Tweek’s nails.”

-

Tweek often had trouble sleeping, in fact, he rarely slept more than an hour at a time. He could only sleep with Craig with him. He was left just staring at the wall, looking at every little detail that the beam on moonlight highlighted. The sound of partying, cars, and the quiet breathing in the room were all he heard.

He turned to face the bed so he could look out the window and found his view partially blocked by a body. Willow was sitting up, staring out the window herself. Her knees were pulled up to her chest. The soft glow of the moon reflected off jer face and highlighted some silent tears that were rolling down her cheek.

“Willow?” he asked quietly. She turned to face him and immediately wiped her eyes.

“Tweek. I thought you were asleep,” she whispered.

“I don’t sleep.”

“Oh.” She slid out of the bed to sit on the floor, looking back to make sure that she hadn’t woken Wendy up. “Maybe you shouldn’t drink all that coffee.”

“No.”

They sat awkwardly, wanting to speak and try to connect to each other and show their understanding of each other. Tweek decided to take the initiative.

“I understand how you feel. About your parents, I mean,” Tweek said.

“No, you don’t,” she spat, “but I appreciate it. Our families are different. You haven’t seen mine. I haven’t seen yours. But I think you’re right. Our families are terrible.” Tweek was taken aback by the venom in her voice. It wasn’t directed at him, but directed at the world.

“I want to understand how people treat you because I think we could be good friends. I just don’t want to say anything wrong. Just because I’m gay doesn’t mean I understand what it’s like being trans.”

“You’re smart and kind. We’ll talk about it sometime. We are similar, aren’t we.” Tweek grinned slightly

“Yeah, we are.” Willow silently got up and walked towards Tweek, pulling him into a hug. “You’re a good person, Tweek. Craig is lucky to have you. Stay you, no matter what. Stay you.” She got up and returned to the bed, slipping back under the covers. 

Tweek turned back to face the wall. Maybe it would be nice to have another friend, someone to go to when Craig was unavailable or to just hang out with. 

The sleepover wasn’t terrible in the end.

[loudlytransparenttrash]

Controversial as it may be these days, I actually support and defend people's right to have racist, sexist, or whatever phobic thoughts as long as they don't try to hurt anyone. Just having these views don't hurt anyone but yourself. Unfortunately too many do try to impose on the ones they dislike. But for the ones that keep to themselves, I many not like your views, but I will fight to the death for you to have them cause this is America. Snowflakes may not like this but oh well.

Yeah, the quote “I disapprove of what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it” has always been a liberal mantra that has separated the United States from the rest of the world, up until now. Now with the bizarre invented crimes of “Islamophobia” and “transphobia,” and getting fired, banned and de-platformed over a joke, free speech is facing one hell of a test. What we can and can’t say is today regulated based on what part of the intersectional order we fall under. Choosing who you vote for, what you believe in and what hat you wear outside will decide whether or not you’re allowed to speak and whether you are subjected to assault and rabid mob outrage, all in the name of social harmony and justice of course... Such demonstrations express an ideology that has been growing in the academy but has only recently entered the cultural mainstream after their orthodoxy was challenged.

From the 1960s, the academic left began adding third-wave feminism, LGBT theory, the consolidation of post-colonialism, and “privilege theory,” which surfaced in the 1990s. Its greatest claims should be familiar to most of us by now, gender is socially constructed rather than based in biology, the West is uniquely despicable, racial identity rather than individual action determines guilt and responsibility and capitalism is evil. Each divides the world into oppressors and oppressed: whites versus “persons of color,” men versus women, “cisgender” versus queer, etc. To a large degree, it is a Marxist divide, but with race and gender in the place of class. Anything that strays from the script must be shut down at all costs.

An average college student at most state and leading private universities will witness displays targeting Israel, warnings of an ominous “rape culture,” and complaints of “white privilege.” Students report PTSD and require therapy dogs and Play-Doh to soothe their feelings after hearing something they don’t like. Activist students and faculty alike regularly argue that “hate speech” is the same as violence and it’s not unusual to see professors alongside their screaming hoard of students and antifa stopping conservative speakers from speaking, claiming the mere presence of an apostate is dangerous. 

Because of this sense of group victimhood, students feel justified in attempting to shut down the free exchange of ideas or retreating to safe spaces, as certain ideas could not only further harm the oppressed, but may potentially strip them of their victim status. Their unfamiliarity with operating in an environment of intellectual disagreement also makes these “social justice warriors” perceive contrary opinions as assaults on their intellectual security. The traditional rules of public discourse therefore do not apply to them. Their cause is too morally important. To allow dissenting opinion is to allow oppression itself.

A large number of college students believe that violence and shouting over a speaker is acceptable methods to prevent people from saying things. Over half of U.S. college students believe screaming over the top of a speaker to shut them down is acceptable, and one in five believe it’s acceptable to use violence to shut the speaker up, according to a national survey of students in 49 states. Today’s college students are tomorrow’s attorneys, teachers, policymakers, and judges. If a large fraction of college students believe incorrectly that offensive speech is unprotected by the First Amendment, that view will be at the center of all the decisions they make once they’re in positions of authority.

Silencing speech creates more chaos than peace. Those who dissent will resort to other means to speak out. They will protest, they will move to the other extreme or they will vote for the most outspoken leader they can find. In response, those who sought to dominate the conversation will do even more to end it, pumping out fake news, vilifying free speech advocates and refusing to present opposing views. So much of the polarization and division afflicting society today is a direct result of restricting speech. When figures in the media block certain ideas, they actually do more to validate and preserve these ideas than remove them. They validate them by granting them enough weight to merit oppressive action and preserve them by keeping them from being debunked.

Therefore, it should surprise no one that the left, which has taken to opposing free speech, has grown more extreme. Idiotic ideas like socialism meet little opposition because free market capitalism allows for winners and losers and is thus hateful. Even comedy has disappeared, as comedians only feel safe obsessing over Trump and white people. By contrast, free speech advocates, although frequently characterized as evil nationalists and unapologetic bigots, maintains integrity by its insistence on freedom. Many different positions find discussion among conservatives which allows for better policy and more constructive dialogue. Even though this dedication to free speech allows alt-right nuts to run their mouths, the strict dedication to reason and reality keeps them to the fringes. Compare it to the other side where the most far-left ideas and figures are mainstream.

It’s one thing to protest a speaker whose stance we find appalling, it’s another to work to block them from being able to speak at all. It’s one thing to choose to walk away from a discussion, it’s another to try to silence another’s voice entirely. When we choose the latter routes, we are one step closer to becoming the exact authoritarians Trump is accused of being. Free speech rights in the United States are still stronger and better protected than anywhere else in the world but we should still be closely aware of these growing attempts to weaken them. As we watch the English being arrested over insensitive tweets, Scots being sentenced and fined for memes and Norwegians imprisoned for "hate speech,” we're getting a glimpse of how fast and easy free speech can be removed and criminalized even in the most liberal democracies like ours. 

[butterflydm]

The Untamed Rewatch (ep 4)

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aka Rules, Rules, Rules

things that stood out this rewatch under the read more (spoilers for entire series; mostly drama only as I haven't read the novel translation yet and only know what I've seen bouncing around online):

We start off with Wei Wuxian running off so as not to miss the greeting ceremony (the 'salute' I think it was called in the tencent translation). We get a lot of sort of subtle (well, until we get to the Wens) introductions to character and relationship interactions and also to the general atmosphere of Gusu. They have… a lot of rules. Some people really thrive on rules and structure and some people, well, don't. The trouble with WWX and the The Rules is that he already has his own moral center in place that conflicts with the rules. He grew up under a very different set of rules and — from what some of the characters says — he was in a complicated situation of being both privileged and favored while at the same time reminded that he was considered not on the same level as Jiang Cheng. Regardless, very different type of rules than the ones in place at Gusu.

Our introduction to Nie Huaisang and Meng Yao is actually fairly sad in retrospect, in that it contains some narrative irony — first of all, that they came together (because Meng Yao is working as the 'vice envoy' for the Nie clan, I believe it says?). And they're just both so young here and things could have gone so differently. Nie Huaisang is also introduced breaking the rules by bringing in his little bird. 

I absolutely did NOT figure out that Nie Huaisang was the fan guy from episode one in my first viewing, btw. I think I didn't realize it until we were way back into the present timeline. I have a ton of love for him, though, which I touched on in my very first post — he's smart and a good liar who knows his own strengths and weaknesses. He had an incredibly weak hand of cards at the start of his revenge play and so it took him time but he figured out how to get justice for his brother even against the person who was, literally, in the strongest position in the cultivation world. Five stars, very impressed. 

As much as I love Nie Huiasang, I also genuinely love Meng Yao/Jin Guangyao. He's interesting and complicated and we see enough of what hurt him that I do understand why he behaves the way he does (as I understand it, it's even more morally grey in the novel, which I'm looking forward to seeing when I read the translation). I certainly don't blame any of his victims for taking revenge against him, but wow, what a fascinating person. 

I think it's the last flashback we get of him, after Jin Guangshan had him thrown off the tower steps, where we see him in obvious pain but still forcing himself to stand up, smile, and bow towards the person who just had him hurt… I think of that moment every time I see him now, honestly. And he is just such a person of extremes and powerful emotions and yet his mask is always on so tightly that we only ever get glimpses of what he's really feeling underneath it. While WWX can appear lawless to people like Lan Qiren but actually does have a strong sense of right and wrong (whether or not he always lives up to it, he tries), JGY genuinely is willing to throw any and all moral rules away in an attempt to protect and advance himself. So he mirrors and contrasts against both of the leading men.

Of course, this is also the beginning of something I found myself tragically shipping over the course of The Untamed. Ah, XiYao. Meng Yao does some terrible things over the course of the story. For someone who comes across as self-effacing, he actually has a fierce ability to hold grudges and extract revenge for slights against him. 

But his introduction here is very sympathetic, as we hear some students gossiping about him (quieted by Lan Qiren) and then see Lan Xichen step forward to publicly praise him in an attempt to lessen the impact of the gossip. There's some significant eye contact and subtle touching and I am weak. And we know that Meng Yao does latch onto Lan Xichen here in a way that he does with literally no other character, in that this is the one person he isn't willing to sacrifice for his own reputation and life. It's not a hugely healthy relationship, on both sides, but it is very interesting.

The whole Wen incursion here is, I believe, a drama-only thing? As I understand it, a large part of what the drama does is try to set things up early to give the central characters more time to know each other (and, also, More Romance with literally everyone which, as a romance fan, I do not object to). So, we're introduced to the Wens bullying their way into the lessons (though I'm not sure we see Wen Qing actually attend a single lesson? I will keep an eye out; I actually don't remember how many lessons we end up seeing) in the middle of the ceremony. They use this scene both to show Wen Chao's behavior but also to set up his dislike of Wei Wuxian early because WWX is, of course, the person who stands against Wen Chao directly and challenges him. This is the first chance that Jin Zixuan would have to notice that WWX is Just Like That in general, rather than being like that specifically with him, but it's a distracting enough moment that I will not blame him for probably not noticing.

Things during the face-off that stood out to me in particular:

    I think they do a good job characterizing Wen Chao as a realistic bully — when he has power, he abuses it, but when he's powerless later on, we see him being petulant and pitiful (and still demanding). He's a bully in part because he knows he can get away with it because of his father's power.

    Lan Wangji wants to Fight but looks to his brother and listens when his brother indicates that he should refrain. Young Lan Wangji is just Ready To Fight at all times, but he's also very obedient to his elder brother.

    In contrast to this and not for the last time, Wei Wuxian jumps in to verbally spar against someone without ever looking at Jiang Wanyin to get permission. Though WWX's relationship with Jiang Wanyin is complicated in ways that Lan Wangji's isn't with his own brother. Lan Xichen is both sect leader and the eldest, while WWX is, I think, older than Jiang Wanyin (he's definitely the 'elder disciple'). But it does hint that their plan for the future, where WWX was Jiang Cheng's second in command, was never going to work long-term. Their personalities and their established relationship both work against that plan. WWX is a natural leader; we see him take point and take command over and over in the course of the series. When he believes he sees the right thing to do, he just does it. He doesn't ask permission first. When the Wens draw swords, WWX is the first one to draw in return and the others who do follow his lead, including Jiang Wanyin. And WWX does, I think, instinctively think of Jiang Cheng as his 'little brother' that ultimately he needs to protect for that reason, which is a different kind of protection that you would do for your leader.

One of the Jiang disciples who draws a sword is a woman. We don't get as many female disciples/cultivators as we do men but they are there and there are some important ones. Though none that I can think of in the present timeline, as opposed to the past one, apart from briefly seeing MianMian again. I will keep a look out when we get back to the present.

    Meng Yao shields Nie Huaisang similarly to how Jiang Cheng shields Jiang Yanli (though Meng Yao doesn't have a sword). It really must have been devastating for Nie Huaisang to realize that Jin Guangyao killed his brother, because Nie Huaisang did have reasons to trust him and believe he was 'like family' in a similar way to how Wei Wuxian was family to the Jiang clan.

    Wen Qing seems more like she's holding Wen Ning back than she's shielding him. It's interesting. It might be part of her playing cool in front of Wen Chao. Not certain. We haven't gotten to see Wen Ning's personality much so far, except that he's relatively timid.

    They make a point of showing us how impressed Meng Yao is with Lan Xichen playing to diffuse the situation and disarm everyone.

I love this dynamic. We only really get it for a short time, considering, but Nie Huaisang's open admiration of WWX does set up some positive ulterior motives for him wanting to bring back WWX specifically to help him get revenge on his brother. Not just that he believes WWX to be the most capable but also that, though he might never have said it openly, but perhaps he believes that WWX deserved a second chance at life. And poor long-suffering Jiang Wanyin, who knows — just knows! — that having an admirer probably means WWX will get into even more trouble than he would have otherwise.

And, you know, that's probably true.

Meng Yao is literally just waiting around for Lan Xichen to get out of his meeting with Lan Qiren so that he can say goodbye to him specifically (the meeting had a lot of plot stuff, but some good characterization in showing that Lan Xichen and Lan Qiren are wary about Wen clan's intentions but determined to hold to their own standards and ideals anyway).  

So, this tiny tiny smile of Meng Yao's that we see him have right before he heads over to say goodbye to Lan Xichen is probably about a thousand times more sincere than all the big dimpled smiles we get later. No one is looking at him yet, he's just smiling because he's glad he has a chance to say goodbye to this one specific person who publicly singled him out as worthy despite what the gossiping people were saying. I think that it happened in public actually meant a great deal to Meng Yao? WWX is kind to him later on, in the Unclean Realm, but that's in private and it doesn't seem to have the same kind of emotional impact. Meng Yao's reputation means so much to him, so LXC openly stating Meng Yao's worth in front of the entire group of students and Lan Qiren is something that not only affects him personally but something that can positively affect his reputation as well, which means it affects him personally even more than it would otherwise.

At the end of this conversation, Meng Yao bows deeply to Lan Xichen and Lan Xichen doesn't only stop him from doing it, but directly calls them peers. And it's hard for Meng Yao to leave! Once he turns away from Lan Xichen, we can see in his face that it's difficult. And, of course, there's the lingering touch that comes for my life. The Lan brothers and their silent heartbreaks, I swear.

(why am I like this, honestly? This is like me getting into Steven Universe because I saw Garnet's "Stronger Than You" and then ending up having my heart repeatedly ripped in two by the tragedy of Pearl and Rose; and, like, I adore Rupphire. But sometimes my heart just wants a tragedy between two people who just didn't quite know the right ways to love each other, I guess!)

So! (and this is just rampant speculation that I will never get answers on because, again, I believe none of this is in the novel but) I wonder how long Meng Yao was originally planning on staying? Because Lan Xichen is surprised he's leaving so soon, and he'd had a seat right behind Nie Huaisang at the greeting ceremeny, so it seems like him leaving immediately was more prompted by his realization that even in the Cloud Recesses, he wasn't going to be able to escape the whispers about his parentage. In the drama, they mostly likely just wanted to introduce him to the audience and to Lan Xichen, but he didn't fit into the other plans they had for this section of the story, so they had him head off, but internal to the character and not taking the behind the scenes stuff into account, it seems like he was planning on staying longer, initially.

WWX and Nie Huaisang's scene together is adorable, and it's super-cute to see them having such innocent fun times. It does contrast strongly against WWX's scene right after with Wen Qing. He plays the fool with her, but it is obvious play-acting and not true light-heartedness the way it was with Nie Huaisang moments earlier. So we get to see two sides of WWX there, the genuine playfulness and the pretend playfulness as he tries to figure out what Wen Qing is doing. There's a lot of subtle things going on with the facial acting that makes it clear when he's being genuine and when he's playing pretend that I enjoy.

Now it's the night of that same day, and Jiang Yanli has made soup for her brothers. I'm trying to remember if we ever actually see Jiang Yanli eat, because I know she doesn't eat anything here (theory: she eats while she's cooking and thus is full when it comes time to actually sit down for the meal? my mom does that sometimes when she's done a lot of cooking). I'm going to keep an eye on that because I'm genuinely curious. Jiang Cheng is stressing out over WWX, again, because it's pretty much his self-appointed job tbh. Jiang Yanli just wants him to chill and accept that WWX is WWX. 

Another thing Jiang Cheng says here is something that resonates through his storyline with WWX: when will WWX take Yunmeng's Jiang clan into consideration? That's the tension line between WWX and Jiang Cheng for large parts of their flashback plotline together — Jiang Cheng wants WWX to be devoted to Jiang clan, but WWX keeps considering other things to be just as important. Because WWX doesn't ever treat Jiang clan as unimportant but he doesn't always treat it as the most important. And, to Jiang Cheng, it is absolutely the most important thing. Which makes perfect sense for him to feel, as he's the heir, so he has to consider the future of the clan and weigh it against the risks of acting. We see Lan Xichen do the same — he has to think about the politics, the optics of the situation. And that's something that WWX rarely thinks about ahead of time or, if he does, it's to scorn the idea that the optics should matter.

When Jiang Yanli points out that WWX's behavior actually fits their clan history and motto, this takes us to another puzzle piece of that tension — Jiang Cheng's jealousy. Here, it's not so bad. It comes and goes, depending on the situation. But WWX is naturally talented and also lives up to the clan's motto effortlessly, so again it's very understandable that Jiang Cheng feel jealous, honestly. Not always pretty, but understandable.

We do some time skipping, as everyone attends class (I do not see Wen Qing anywhere in the class when I look, so she's not trying all that hard at the 'undercover' part of her undercover spying — or maybe she changed into white robes too and that's why I can't spot her) and WWX is a brat and the class clown. Almost everyone but Lan Wangji and Jin Zixuan seem amused by him. Lan Wangji is definitely way more annoyed by WWX at this point than anything else, because it looks to him like WWX isn't willing to take things seriously. And I'm pretty sure Jin Zixuan thinks that WWX as just as arrogant as WWX thinks that JZX is, which is kinda funny.

We also get the first appearance of one of WWX's cute lil papermen. They're so adorable, as is the little 'nodding off to sleep' thing he does with them. Luckily, Lan Qiren snaps him out of it before Lan Wangji crumples the paperman, because I think from what they say later on, that was actually kinda dangerous if he'd still been inside it.

Lan Qiren, after catching WWX out on not paying attention in class, quizzes him. WWX is able to answer all his straight-forward questions easily and is obviously proud of himself, so Lan Qiren gives him a more challenging one, a question that deals with the practicalities of actually being a cultivator and making the choices that they need to make in these cases of literal life and death. And so we get our first mentions in the flashback of using resentful energy/demonic cultivation. Again, laying the groundwork for later, but doing it while also showing us character and relationship dynamics, which I like. Lan Qiren is really pissed off at WWX's suggestion to use resentful energy, to the point of throwing something at him (there's probably a rule against that) and kicking him out of class for the day.

Lan Wangji, of course, is the student who provides the model-perfect answer of what is correct according to 'proper' cultivation. What I really like about this section is that when Wei Wuxian challenges the idea of the proper method of cultivation, Lan Wangji actually interrupts his uncle so that he can answer Wei Wuxian back (I don't think he noticed that he was interrupting his uncle; he just really really had to correct Wei Wuxian; it was Vitally Important). Wei Wuxian, though, directs his response back to Lan Qiren. I do feel for Lan Qiren here. You get the impression that a student has never kept arguing back to him for so long and he gets so flustered over it (and over what Wei Wuxian is actually saying too, of course).

One of the things that does make WWX's behavior different than, say, Jin Guangyao is that WWX doesn't keep his methods a secret. He doesn't try to hide the 'how' of what he's doing, even when he knows everyone will disdain him for it. He owns it, essentially, which he what he says to Lan Wangji way in the future during the episode where Lan Wangji is drunk — he made his choices and he will live with the consequences and it's no one else's responsibility.

I do understand, from what I've read, that WWX is softened a bit in the drama — some things that are his responsibility in the novel aren't his fault here — but we see here that he was already aware of and willing to go down this road of cultivating resentful energy so in that, at least, the intention is there from the start. And Lan Qiren points out that there's the essential problem that Wei Wuxian doesn't know how to actually keep the resentful energies from causing collateral damage, and WWX doesn't have an answer for that.

And then, of course, WWX does not actually go to the library to copy the rules, as Lan Qiren ordered, but goes off to the forbidden back area with the lakes and waterfalls instead. So, you know, good call on sending Wangji to go babysit him tbh.

But it means that WWX gets to meet Wen Ning!

It's a super-cute meeting where WWX sees Wen Ning's great archery skills and compliments him, and then tells Wen Ning to think of them as equals. Wen Ning is apparently younger than everyone else, because he's too young to be a student at the lessons. I think the rest of them are supposed to be fifteen? That's what I've seen floating around online, but I'm not sure they ever say it on-screen. And WWX is a little embarrassed to say he was kicked out by the teacher, which is interesting.

And I guess we do get evidence here that Wen Qing is not attending class, because WWX is only not in class right now because he was kicked out.

The next scene is a 'cliffhanger' that gets reprised in the opening of episode 5, so I'll talk about then. This one is already really long (I say, as if it's likely they'll get shorter, lol).

Next time: Lan Zhan and Wei Ying get some private time in the library together!

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[hypospace]

25 Things I Learnt by 25

Good and evil are universal constants of life. They exist beyond the scopes of race, religion and nationality. Don’t make the error of associating someone’s acts of good or evil with their physical attributes.

There is no shame in pursuing formal education in something you were once passionate about but never making a living out of it. The learning journey is already itself a destination, and something you should be very proud of.

Growing up is a continuous series of learning, unlearning and relearning. You will find that some ideas you grew up with are unhealthy to your well-being and the people around you. Learn to recognize and let go of those ideas. Accept that you can and will do better.

Every new day is the first day of the rest of your life. It’s never too late to start learning and pursuing things you truly enjoy doing while you are here.

A healthy dose of nostalgia is good sometimes. To remind yourself of things that exist outside your current worries in life, and that whatever you are going through now will most likely pass - just like everything else.

It is perfectly okay to be passionate about something you might never master. It is the passion, not the skills, that make it meaningful. Keep being into it anyway.

The help you give other people can sometimes look awfully similar to the help you need. Listen to your inner call for help every once in a while.

Sharing your emotions with people you trust and love is so important as you grow up. Be it a group of close friends or a partner. Find people in your life whom you can create a safe space around.

Be mindful of the privileges that have been given to you in life before passing judgments and comments on other people who might not have had the same opportunities in life as you.

Take some time every day to look at the sunrise and sunset - you never know when it will be your last.

“The reality” often means different things for different people. Just because you have experienced something to be true doesn’t mean it is true for every single person on the planet. Refrain from generalizing your personal experience to the whole world. (And learn your hypothesis testing.)

There is as much love and beauty in this world as there is cruelty and terror. Never fail to choose and fight for the former over the latter.

Blissful ignorance is a dangerous thing that allows evil to thrive. Many unethical, unsustainable and harmful practices in the world are relying on people simply being ignorant of what’s going on outside their own lives.

People are often more profound and interesting than they initially let on - throw your first impressions and preconceived ideas of them out the window.

Being only in your own head and seeing only from your own perspective for too long is bound to turn out bad for you. Learn to talk to other people who might have a different point of view than yours, and more importantly, learn to agree to disagree.

Beautiful memories are beautiful because they don’t last forever. Knowing that you have experienced something that only passes you once in this lifetime makes it all more meaningful.

When life gets a little overwhelming, it often helps to take a moment and step outside of your own frame of reference and see things in a bigger picture. You will find that most of it will not matter in the long run and is not worth losing your mind and self over.

Never trust billionaires and millionaires when they claim to be “self-made”. No one earns billions of dollars without participating in some kind of exploitation of the working class.

A lot of stress in life comes from trying to have control over things that are beyond your control.

In a time where empathy is scarce, the ability to put yourself in another’s position makes all the difference in the world.

Whatever you see on someone’s social media profile can never really represent more than a tiny fraction of their complex life. Stop comparing your whole life to instances of someone else’s.

Our way of living for the past century takes a heavy toll on the world’s natural state and resources. Unless humans decide to collectively educate ourselves and take action today, we are actively preparing our children’s generation for a hell on earth in about 30 years’ time.

Radiohead finally made sense while being jobless at 23.

Grief over the loss of something or someone can come from different places and manifest itself in different forms. It’s important to acknowledge that it’s an emotion that you may or may not completely get over, and will become part of your life forever - and that’s okay.

Everybody in the world is just trying their best to play and survive a rigged game - be good to each other. (Except for those who rigged the game, I guess.)

“Let everything happen to you Beauty and terror Just keep going No feeling is final”

— Rainer Maria Rilke