#that making a rarely seen violent side of his clearly apparent

[kakusboyfriend]

Sits you down. Ok so orchard and citrus are also mirrors in the sense that they both have a hidden violent side fueled by intense anger. But Citrus' is the result of a violent life simmering down until there's barely any trace left of it save for some specific situations, and Orchard's is the result of a man whose kindness was and still is what he's most known for but his life was shifted so rapidly it's no wonder he's become volatile as a result.

Do you get it. Im fucking crazy about them. I never drew orchard digitally and it makes me INSANE

[pandasmagorica]

First watch: DNA Says Love You

Okay, first let me say I enjoyed this and recommend it. It's not perfect. It's a bit slow, and some plot points and side characters take a long time to come back to. I felt the chemistry between the two leads developed well over time. There is a lead role for a character who is part of a sexual minority we rarely get to see at all, let alone in a lead role. There is both queer pain and queer joy. There is a touch of fantasy, although it is not completely developed. There is a strong female supporting character who, while she loves one of the leads, never turns evil when she can't have him (although she does make one misstep).

But there was plenty of light moments and leavening humor, an established gay couple, and lots of food and scenery porn.

Content warnings: Suicide attempt, possible suicide contemplation, major medical decision made for a child without the child's consent, bullying, gay panic (non-violent), sexual minority phobia, outing, pronoun issues in the English subtitles (but not the original spoken script).

I was mildly unhappy with the subtitles. Typos were plentiful and there was an issue with gender (details after the jump).

See also my mid-watch thoughts and COVID masking in DNA Says Love You posts.

Spoilers follow

Childhood friends Le, Yu-He, and Wen-Wen were inseparable until Wen-Wen was whisked away overseas by her parents. Ten years later, Le wonders where Wen-Wen is. A moment later, Amber enters the cafe where Le and Yu-He work. He reports that he has just returned from overseas.

The timing is a little too obvious. We as audience are clearly meant to understand that male Amber and female Wen-Wen are the same person ten years apart. If it's not clear to some of us at the start, the show continues to drop bigger and bigger hints. Eventually, Amber absentmindedly sings a song the three of them wrote as kids and Yu-He catches him and confronts him about his identity. She proceeds to out him to Le, who reacts badly that he feels he has been deceived.

A lot of things we learn from flashbacks. Apparently, some viewers are not fans of flashbacks. I personally love them as they allow me to recontextualize what I have seen. I feel they were well-used in this series, although the timing of some of them were odd.

I initially thought Amber was a transman, and that the family left Taiwan after Amber came out to his parents as male. However, it appears that Wen-Wen, after initially being thought to be female and raised as such, was discovered to be genetically male and was taken to the UK to be medically affirmed (not sure this is the right word - that's more of a trans term) as male and re-socialized to be male. It is not clear how much say Wen-Wen had in this decision - likely not much - but clearly it was traumatic for them to be uprooted from their friendships.

Not sure what pronoun to use here. I'm a cis queer male and I don't know how the character identifies or how voluntarily that identification was. We don't really get enough information about Wen-Wen/Amber's transition.

As a side note, Amber is a strange name choice for someone transitioning to male, as it's a female name. I'm guessing that's an error on the part of the writing team.

I'm also not happy with how the translators handled this transition. Spoken Mandarin pronouns do not distinguish for gender, but English pronouns do. So sometimes in seems that Wen-Wen/Amber was being misgendered. He was, sometimes, in the subtitles, but not in the spoken script.

There was at least one other gender error in the subtitles when referring to one of the other characters.

There was a bit of a fantasy element with regard to the hunt for a mysterious temple. In one episode they hunted for it and wound up going in circles. But it never appears.

A reasonable complaint about the series is that Wen-Wen/Amber likely didn't have any choice in his transition. I am given to understand this is also true of most intersex transitions in real life, although the intersex community is working to change that. I'll say that this is not an area that I am knowledgeable about and that if you want to know more, seek out writing by the intersex community in print and on the internet.

What I do know is that over my long lifetime, mainstream queer content went from the queers nearly always die in the end to the queers rarely die. Ann Bannon, when writing her classic Beebo Brinker novels had to leave Beebo unhappy at the end and her female lover in the arms of a man. Gay-themed films ended unhappily at best and tragically at worst. Side gay characters often died, for example in Francois Truffaut's The Last Metro.

Eventually, there were more films with gay characters and happy endings started to appear. There was Will and Grace on TV.

We are starting to see well-rounded trans characters in QL: Mae in 3 Will Be Free is an outstanding example of a major character who has a clear vision of herself and a major impact on the plot, even if she loses the men who accept her for who she is. There are other smaller trans roles appearing now in QL and I hope the trend continues. While Only Friends left a bad taste in my mouth, at least Yo's story ends well. And there is a happy trans member of a couple in The Warp Effect and one in Not Me. And a happy (mostly - there is some bullying) non-binary character in Secret Crush on You. All of these shows are Thai.

To me, the biggest problem with this show's handling of the intersex subplot is not that Amber has no choice in his transition, but that there is a total lack of intersex stories. It's a big step forward that Amber is a main character, and we need to have more stories, including stories of intersex characters who get to choose their future. It's too much to ask one story to be perfect, but it's not to much to ask there to be more and varied stories.

Let me correct that. I was not happy they chose to have the one intersex character attempt suicide when their love object panicked about their relationship. (Similarly, having side character gayly coupled Li contemplate suicide - at least that's how I read the scene - was over the top.) That's too close to the historic tragic gay narrative. I would hope we get over that. It wouldn't be an issue if it were one of dozens of narratives, most of which didn't include attempted suicide, but it's not.

The side couple of Li and Gwan was handled a bit lackluster, but it was nice to see their domesticity.

In all, I recommend this series, but be aware of its shortcomings going into it.

[beantothemax]

Behold Fic. Tw for Vague suicidal ideation, violent intrusive thoughts, and Hikari not really letting himself feel anything other than detached numbness. He’s really not doing well.

“Hikari, what are you doing?”

Hikari freezes in place. Right. Right it may be late but not everyone would be asleep. Kazan especially was already one to stay up late, he should have realized that before he packed his things.

“I’m just going out on a stroll Kazan,” he lies. “Do not worry. I’ll be back shortly.”

Kazan glances at his bag and back at him. “Is the stroll going to involve you walking to the other side of the Continent because it sure looks like it.”

He really shouldn’t have packed his bag immediately.

Hikari laughs nervously. “I don’t know what you mean Kazan.”

“Hikari I can clearly see your bag packed, you’re trying to leave.”

Play dumb! screams the Curse, a rare statement not involving bloodlust.

“What bag?”

Not that dumb!

Kazan groans and put his hands to his face. “My Prince, I’m going to pretend that wasn’t a horrific form of lying and instead just tell you to get back to bed. Castti just fixed both of us up and if she finds out we’re out of our beds she’s going to kill us. That is not exaggeration. I genuinely think she will kill us if she finds out we’re out of our beds.”

While he doubts Castti would kill them if she finds out they’re up, she would give a stern talking to both of them and probably strap them to their beds to rest. He’s seen it happen before with Partitio and frankly he is not looking forward to that.

At the same time though, he needs to go. The Curse sings to him louder and louder and every day it is getting harder to ignore. If he stays any longer he’ll hurt his companions. He already gave in to the Curse so many times over this Journey, much more than when he was at Ku. In Wellsgrove he had it take over him completely and almost striked down General Rou.

And then Kazan revealed that he caused Mugen’s uprising and all Hikari could think about is the amount of people who died that day and how it was all caused by him and how easy it would be to run his sword through him and kill him and bring justice and-

We can still kill him now Hikari. It sings.

It would be so easy. No one is awake. We can finish the job that you started and you fled from. Give in to that anger. Give in and let the blood spill. Give in~

He closes his eyes, breathes, and tries to will the Curse to go away. Kazan is his friend and even though there is still some loathing buried inside him, there is no reason for him to kill. Kazan regrets it and right now Hikari has to move on and let it go. He has to let this whole thing go and give Kazan a second chance at fixing things. Nothing is gained from needless bloodshed.

Faintly, he hears someone sit on his bed. “Okay how about this, I’m going to take your stuff and put it in Partitio’s room because clearly right now you are going to make a stupid decision if I don’t.”

Hikari blinks and comes back to himself. Right. He’s trying to leave.

Kazan moves his bag away before he can grab it. “I would say that I don’t know why you’re leaving but that’s a lie, so I’m going to assume that the reason you’re leaving has something to do with…” He gestured vaguely. “…the whole Wellsgrove conversation thing.”

Hikari flinched.

“And apparently I’m right,” Kazan sighs. “Great. Love it when I’m right about things I don’t want to be right about.”

“It’s nothing I can’t handle,” he says. It’s true. It’s nothing he can’t handle. He kept the Curse in check before and he can do it again. He’s done it for 8 years, he can survive a little longer with it before finding a more…permanent solution to it.

We both know you don’t want to die Hikari.

He closes his eyes again and breathes. He’ll figure out that solution later and he’s sure that he won’t resort to that. Hopefully.

It does take care of the Curse though…and it’s not like the country would fall apart if he was gone. He can trust his friends to take care of things so if something happened to him then-

“I really doubt that you are handling it well.”

The Prince shakes his head. “I am. I’m keeping it under control.”

“…Which is why you packed your stuff and planned on leaving,” he says slowly.

He really shouldn’t have packed his bag immediately.

Kazan sighs. “Okay, do you want me to leave for a little while? At least after Partitio does his Department Store with Alrond?”

Hikari blinks. “You’re leaving?”

“Not permanently,” the other says quickly. “Not permanently. Just long enough so that we both have time to think.”

He tilts his head. “Why would you want to leave?”

“I don’t know Hikari maybe because I just went and told you I caused the downfall of Ku and made the plan for your brother to ascend the throne.”

He’s practically admitting it! Aren’t you angry? Don’t you want to kill him and spill his blood and give justice to all those who died because of him? Don’t you want to do it Hikari?

He squashes the resentment down. “I fail to see how that connects with the fact that you’re leaving.”

Kazan blinks and looks at him incredulously. “Hikari,” he says slowly. “You can be mad at me. I would rather you be mad at me then have you doing…whatever this is.”

“I’m taking a stroll,” he supplies helpfully.

“Yes, you’re taking a stroll for about…” Kazan checks the bag. “…5 days.”

“…It’s a long stroll.”

“Hikari I’m serious about you being mad at me. Ritsu was mad at me when we told him what I did. Literally everything I did is a good reason to be mad.”

He’s putting himself up to you! Now’s your chance! Kill! Kill! Kill! Kill-

“I have no reason to be mad,” he pleasantly says. Because really, he has no reason to be mad. If he ignores it long enough then the pain will fade away and the Voice would go and just shut up for onece.

Kazan stares at him.

“Okay.” The man stands up. “Okay you’re not going to go and talk about what’s bothering you today.”

“Nothing is bothering me,” he says, ignoring the clamoring song in his head.

“Oh gods we are going to need so much therapy.”

Now that’s something that Hikari can agree with.

“We’re going to need so much therapy,” Kazan continues. “And we’re going to go and have you talk about what’s wrong when Partitio and Throné are done here.”

“After we take back Ku we’ll talk.”

“Absolutely not we have to talk about it some point. If you don’t want that then when I rejoin you at Ryu.”

“After we take back Ku,” he insists. “And you’re not going to leave.”

“Stormhail,” Kazan offers. “How about that? Stormhail and I stay. Close enough to when we launch our strike against Mugen and I’m staying. We’ll talk then.”

Hikari thinks.

Enough time to plan the murder. Perfect Hikari! I knew you would come around eventually! We’ll bathe in the blood of your friends and that wretched Clan at Stormhail! Oh and your little Traveling Companions! They may join the rabble and give the countermelody to our song! Oh it’s so wonderful! It’s so beautiful! Oh Hikari-

Silence Imposter.

The Prince bows his head. “I accept,” he says quietly.

At that, Kazan visibly relaxes. “I’m holding you up to that my Prince. Remember that.”

Hikari smiles softly. “Of course. I never intentionally break my promises.”

And what about the promises of being by your friends side? What happens when you finally snap and kill them? What then?

It’s fine. He’ll be sure to prevent that from happening in the future. One way or another.

Kiwi have I told you how much I love your writing

the prelude to stormhail… im certain nothing bad or traumatic will happen to anyone there! why do I hear boss music.

kazan just saying ‘we are going to need so much therapy’ is amazing. because goodness gracious they are

AND!!!! the curse trying to get Hikari to kill Kazan during the whole fic!!!! it’s getting harder to ignore!!!!! aaaaa!!!

ALSO HIKARI. HIKARI ACTUALLY TALK ABOUT YOUR ISSUES. IT HELPS. HIKARI. BEING THE BOSS IN YOUR OWN FOURTH CHAPTER IS NOT A HEALTHY WAY OF LETTINH YOUR FEELINGS OUT. HIKARI-

kiwi i am so so excited for the stormhail fic you have no idea

[sockendrache]

Egg

Inspired by my own dissatisfaction that Kyle didn’t get a Monstie and @magicallynormal ‘s idea of Kyle’s Monstie being a Tobi-Kadachi, I wrote this little ff in like 2 hours because I had nothing better to do

I wanted the Rider to stay gender-neutral but it just sounds like Kyle never bothered to ask them for their name-

___________________

“This is a terrible idea.”

“You should’ve thought about it before we left Kuan, then.”

Without sparing Kyle another glance, the Rider entered the Monster’s nesting-area without any hesitation showing on their face; Ratha close behind them. From within the depths of the cave, the Hunter could hear distant roars and predatory clicks; instinctively, he straightens his back, hand hovering over his bow.

The Rider, kneeling besides the huge nest, doesn’t seem bothered by the sounds at all; way too busy examining the brightly colored eggs.

Off to the sides, Kyle spots various piles of worn-down bones, all sporting teeth-marks and scratches, some entirely broken open. Along with a few stray chunks of flesh, almost blending into the ground of the den. They don’t look very fresh; probably a few days old already. His instincts tell Kyle to quickly gather up a few samples of whatever he can get his hands on, maybe let his scoutflies out to take in the scents; then leave the den as quickly and quietly as possible. Not taking anything valuable with him, not disturbing the Monster’s home in any way.

Though... the weight of the kinship-stone, strapped to his left hand, reminds him of the reason for this “expedition”.

He’s not here to take samples for the ever-curious Research Center, nor to track down a Monster. He’s not here to deliver chunks of flesh or eggs.... however, maybe he should just imagine he’s here for a delivery-quest. Maybe that would help calm his poor nerves, still absolutely shot to hell.

Kyle, who was born and raised a Hunter, who knows nothing else; he’s here to get his first Monstie.

It’s absolutely unheard of. A Hunter, whose sole purpose is to hunt these beasts down –maybe capturing them after tiring them out in battle, if the quest calls for it- is about to form a bond with one of these creatures, who he spent years of his life learning the weaknesses of, training to take down beasts several times his size.

Kyle takes a strained breath, his mouth suddenly feeling dry. Over their shoulder, the Rider shoots him a look; their eyes warm, their glance almost comforting.

“Come closer.”, they calmly say, gesturing with their hand towards the nest.

Feeling drastically out of his element, Kyle follows the command; takes a few brave steps towards the nest and promptly freezes up again.

He knows the process of this; hell, he’s already lost track of how often he stood guard while his new Rider-friend sifted through a Monster’s nest. He knew how to hold Wyvern-eggs, how damn heavy these things were and how stupid you looked while carrying one. He knew how these things were goddamn predator-magnets, and how easily they broke.

That, perhaps, was one of the things that frightened Kyle the most about this whole situation.

How often had he accidentally broken an egg while out on a transporting-quest? How often had he washed the yolk and slimy egg-whites off his armor in a nearby stream, before tracking his way back to the nest to pick up a new egg? And how often had he not wasted a single thought on it...?

It’s just eggs, he used to think. Eggs that he’ll bring to the canteen after returning to the base, eggs that he’ll probably eat sooner or later before leaving the base again, set out on yet another quest.

And yet, here he was. Standing at a Monster’s nest, containing eggs that he, before he met the Riders, used to scoop up without thinking about it twice. His muscles feel stiff beneath his armor, his throat scratchy and dry; what if he broke this egg too?

“Kyle?”, the Rider’s calm voice rips him out of his violently spinning thoughts. “You okay?”

Was he okay? Good question; if only Kyle knew the answer.

“I... I don’t think I can do this.”, he mutters, hating how small his voice is sounding. Cold fingers brush over his kinship-stone; a gift from the Rider. Apparently, it once belonged to them- before this Wyverian girl gave them their grandfather’s kinship-stone.  “I mean- if I should do this. I’m- I’m a Hunter, we don’t just.... ride Monsters.”

They, like so often, only shake their head the slightest bit. And calmly, they reach for Kyle’s hand.

“Then why does Ratha love you so much?”

Almost as if on command, a big, scaly head bumps into his back; Ratha’s idea of a hug. After having spent a little time on Hakolo-island, it was almost frightening to see how.... human Monsters -or Monsties, as Kyle learned they were called- could be. He’s seen Ratha pick up on emotions, display human-like behavior; and not just on him. The Rider loved to point out the Monster’s behaviors whenever they took on a quest together, and as someone who’s spent his whole life learning about Monsters, it felt so entirely.... different, watching their behavior in packs, or see something as innocently as an Azuros teaching its cubs how to fish.  

It felt almost unreal.

As a Hunter, most, if not all of his hunting-quests were targeting Monsters wrecking havoc; and when he’s out collecting ingredients or samples, he rarely ever got the chance of seeing Monsters in their natural habitat. And admittedly... seeing these beasts; even the ones that were known for their hostile behavior, completely unbothered by his presence... it shook something deep inside Kyle’s core.

Gently, cold fingers intertwine with his; pulling him down to kneel next to the Rider. Kyle peers over the edge of the massive nest; its inside carefully laid out with tufts of fur and moss. It’s like a giant bird-nest, the Monster clearly having put a lot of work into the making of it. Upon closer inspection of the fur, Kyle has a vague idea of whose nest he’s sitting at right now; though, following the Rider around, he quickly learned that there’s often a few “imposter”-eggs in a nest, smuggled in by Monsters not bothering to care for their young one hatched.

The silence feels tense; so, Kyle attempts to ease it a little.

“Why didn’t Navirou come along? Wouldn’t he be of help, sniffing out a good egg?”

Quietly, the Rider shook their head, giving Kyle an almost apologetic smile. They weren’t a big fan of words; he quickly caught up on that. However, this look didn’t need any words; after all, Kyle did tag along to a few egg-hunts before, watching from the sidelines as Navirou ushered them out of the den, barely giving the Rider enough time to get a good grip on the newly acquired egg. It’s not like Kyle had anything against the Felyne personally; but he had to admit that he was glad he wouldn’t have to rush through this process, only to prevent Navirou from having a Monster-induced heart-attack.

After all, he had a feeling that time would be an important factor in picking out his first Monstie.

With a huff, the Rider pushes themselves up, gently pulling Kyle with them as they step into the nest. Twigs crunch under his weight as he kneels down, getting onto the same level as the eggs.

The Rider placed their hand on Kyle’s shoulder; he’d lie if he tried to tell anyone that it wasn’t comforting. “Just pick the egg you have a connection to. Good smell or not, doesn’t matter. Don’t tell Navi I said that, though.”

The instructions are clear, yet awfully vague; and Kyle can’t help but note how it’s one of the longest sentences he’s ever heard from them. “Take your time, but.... not too much. Before an angry Mama Monster sees us.”

“....sounds reasonable.”

As he looks over each of the large eggs, most of them brown in color with yellow-ish ovals on the shell, he notices the odd one out. Between the egg of an herbivore, if he recalled correctly, laid a pale blue egg, the shell littered with dark blue, almost black zigzags.

Apparently, his gaze lingered a little too long on the lone Wyern-egg, as evident by the look the Rider gave him.

“That one?”, they asked, gingerly reaching out to guide Kyle’s hand towards the egg. Despite the cold air having slowly numbed his fingers, the egg’s surprisingly smooth texture is one of the first things that he notices. At first glance, it’s just like any other Wyvern-egg he’s transported before; and yet, in the back of Kyle’s mind, there was something.... else to this egg.

As if he could feel the Monster calling out to him from within its protective shell, only waiting for a Rider to bestow it their blessings and allow it to awaken into this world.

“I- ….is this normal?”

His fingers now shivering, he places his entire hand on the egg, frightened yet amazed how small his hand is compared to the massive egg. The Rider gives him a look that Kyle can’t quite place.

“I feel like-... this little guy wants to come out...?”

Before he knows it, Kyle is protectively clutching the egg to his chest; holding onto it just a little tighter than onto the ones during his transport-quests. The Rider and Ratha lead the way out of the Monster’s den, practically shielding him from the hungry eyes of the predators waiting in their path.

On the flight back to Kuan, Kyle could swear that his kinship-stone was pulsating with life.

__________________________________

“....is this really necessary?”

Back in the village, their first stop was the stables. And under the watchful eye of the Felyne running the stables, Rider and Hunter were preparing to hatch the little Monstie.

The egg –a pulsing fanged Wyvern, as Kyle now knew- was placed in a little nest, and Kyle could think it was staring at him from beneath the shell.

The Rider doesn’t bother answering, instead handing him a stick, with which they –to Kyle’s horror- performed something apparently referred to as “Dance of the tribe”, a ritual meant to pray for a healthy Monstie to hatch from an egg. Though, Kyle wasn’t entirely sure if they were just fucking with him, or if it was a legit ritual back on Hakolo-island.

Though, he doubted he’d have time to fly back to Mahana-village and ask the chief for confirmation before his Monstie hatched, and... something told him that he didn’t want to miss this.

And so, with the utmost raise of his eyebrow Kyle could possibly muster, he gingerly reached for the stick.

_________________________________________

By the time he was done, his face bright red and radiating more warmth than the oven inside his house, the egg hadn’t budged. Other than the soft cackle of the fire and Kyle’s tense breathing, the stables were silent, everyone’s eyes fixed on the egg... before suddenly, it shuddered with life.

Kyle, utterly overwhelmed with the situation, could only stare helplessly as the egg started to crack, pieces of the shell starting to fall off and revealing tiny spots of blue fur. Though, the Rider is quick to help; promptly instructing him to hold his kinship-stone towards the egg.

“To help it hatch,” they explained, their eyes practically glazed over with excitement. But hell, in comparison to Kyle, that was nothing. There might have even been tears in his eyes, he didn’t know- not even if they were from excitement or fear.

His kinship-stone starts to glisten in a bright blue light; he’d probably be scared if he hadn’t seen this during his battles with the Rider. The shell continues to crack open, tiny pieces falling off, until the egg shattered with a burst of life, a shrieking roar piercing the tense atmosphere of the stables.

As Kyle is face to face with the little Monstie, his throat starts to tighten.

“A Tobi-Kadachi! What a fine little Meownster,” the Felyne purrs as the Monster looks up at Kyle with –surprisingly- innocent-looking eyes.

Instinctively, something in Kyle wants to reach for his bow- thank the sapphire-star he took it off after entering the village. A tingling heat starts to spread throughout his body; the first hints of adrenaline starting to pump into his blood stream. He’s reminded of the piercing roars of the adults he’s encountered during his hunts, of their bursts of electricity when they glide through the trees and pounce onto their prey.

A bead of sweat collects on his brow; and as always, the Rider seems to notice. Calmly, they appear at his side, taking his clammy hand into theirs and holding it out- that way, Kyle can clearly see how his fingers shake.

The tiny Monster curiously looks at his hand; and just like that, his eyes squeeze shut and Kyle finds himself praying that the little creature is more interested in sniffing him than chewing his fingers off- at least until he feels something soft press up into his palm.

Upon forcing his eyelids open, he sees this newborn Monster rub its unbelievably tiny head against his palm, the smallest chirps coming out of its throat, and the Rider- they carefully let go of his hand, grabbing a hold of the other one and guiding it towards the Monster-…. No, guiding it towards his Monstie and-

The Tobi-Kadachi, this freshly hatched creature; it outright jumps into his arms- a poor attempt at gliding, it seems, and just like that, Kyle’s instinct to reach for his bow is replaced by the instinct to catch the Monster and-

By the gleeful little churr it makes once its settled in Kyle’s arms, he promptly finds himself nuzzling his face into soft fur. Still utterly overwhelmed by the idea of this tiny creature being his Monstie, but as he looks into the Wyvern’s big eyes, so full of innocence and wonder, he suddenly feels very much like he- no, they can do this.

[justasimptm]

The Bride C2

By the time I woke up, I felt different, like something was moving under my skin. I barely had a moment to process the change before my mother burst into the room raving about how fantastic the change was. She said she was given a gift, that it healed her and made her stronger, and she in turn gave it to me. Hers made her bigger, stronger, scarier, mine? Well physically I didn’t change much, I was far sicker than my mother was so she theorized it focused more on fixing what was nearly destroyed than improving.

Among other small things, my eyes had changed color, the previously dark brown had shifted to a shining gold, and the pendant I wore with my family crest had essentially burned itself into my skin. My nails were longer, sharper, like claws, and my teeth would ache like they were growing in.

I would soon discover this ‘gift’ was really a curse. I had to learn to live a life I had given up on, and learn to live it as a monster. I could no longer eat the things I enjoyed, even being around food would make me violently ill, and I found myself lashing out more often. We were approached by a woman one day, who claimed herself to be the reason we were what we were. Said she had the answers.

My mother was quick to form her devotion, obsessively thanking the woman before us for her ‘miracle’ and pledging our services to her. Mother Miranda, she would later introduce herself, explained we had been given a rare gift, one that would grant us life for as long as we followed her. She said our hunger, our anger, would be sated with blood, and that she would call on us when she needed us to repay her for her gift. As if the life I was forced into was really so precious. I had no choice in my first life but to accept my death and I have no choice in my second life but to accept it is no longer my own.

Something more changed with my mother as time drew on. Where I had withdrawn, barely doing what was necessary to prolong my existence, she thrived. More than I had ever seen her do previously. She hired more servants, pulling from neighboring villages, working the girls hard and then draining them to sustain herself. She turned them into ‘wine’, poured their essence into finely crafted bottles and kept them stored as if they were vintage. She liked to say they tasted better if left to age in old wine bottles, and said the bouquet that stained the glass would saturate into the blood, making it sweeter.

And then Mother Miranda came again, throwing ideas of family towards her, offering to help her. That she could have more daughters, daughters who would enjoy the life they were offered, who would thrive with her. And how could she refuse? And so they created my sisters. Daniela, Bela and Cassandra, and how they bonded. They were the children my mother wanted more than anything, they wanted to live, they loved the hateful life they were given. They had no remorse for what they had done, what they were doing.

They were perfect. Until we found out they were weaker. They had been normal before this, so when they were changed Mother Miranda said their defects would manifest with their gift. Whereas Mother and I were essentially impervious to most things, my sisters could not fare in the cold. They had to stay in the castle, where they would be safe, or they would die.

How I wished it could end for me as simply as a breeze. My mother swore to keep them safe, punishing any servant who would carelessly leave a window or a door open. Those servants would be brought to the cellar. The others would say they would never be seen again, but they don’t realize they serve them to us in our house glasses. They bottle them and preserve them, thinking its just another wine.

If only they weren’t so naive, perhaps they would have had a fighting chance. Eventually I got sick of the jokes, the jabs from my so-called sisters about how unappreciative I was of my gift, how jealous they were that I was able to go out if I wanted to. If they wanted to play with me weak, I decided I’d see how they’d fare with me stronger. And so I fed, I fed until I was full and I fed some more until the flush it gave my cheeks seemed almost natural. I started offering to help my mother more, offering to retrieve our new servants, participating in her cruel rituals.

Eventually she started thinking I had finally seen how brilliant it was, that I was growing into my life, and ‘living it how I was meant to’. And so she started letting me come to the meetings, with Mother Miranda’s permission. At first it was just us three, until she found others. Then trickled in Donna, a poor woman who's only able to exist essentially with extensions of herself into dolls. Then Moroe, a very horrifying man who basically looks like a giant slug. He was rather simple, not all too smart, essentially just fawning over Miranda and wanting to do everything to make her happy. He ended up being a big part of her experiments.

Then came Heisenberg. A brute of a man, who like us, was able to retain his primary form. His power came in the way of controlling metal. He became essential in helping Miranda build more, essentially creating and running a  factory for her experiments to try to find the right body for her child. My mother did not trust him, she always said he was conniving. That as a man he was untrustworthy and that she loathed him being a part of our ‘family’.

This was one case where I found myself actually agreeing with her. Karl Heisenberg was a vulgar excuse for a man. Crass and loud, overly confident in himself and what he would be doing. Part of him was clearly a facade, whether it was his loyalty or his talent I was unable to tell, but boy did he love making snarky comments about us.

He would quip that clearly he was the more talented of the family, that he could do more for Miranda than we could. That all we were good for was killing the townsfolk and failing. Not as if he ever did much better, though. All his experiments were from the leftovers from us, all of them turning out more dull and stupid than the last. Lycan after lycan, mistake after mistake, and still he had the gall to say he was what was the one making the progress. Even the buffoon Moroe did better than he did, and all he would do was whimper pathetically about how he wants Mother Miranda to love him.

Mother made me promise to keep away from him, something I agreed to easily, I had no desire to be around such a thing and if it would get her to loosen up more with me I was more than willing. This proved, however, to be a more difficult task than anticipated, because apparently he made it his mission to go out of his way and interact with me, even if it was in short bursts. That is where we are now.

Mother Miranda had called on us all for a meeting, requesting my mother host, which of course she agreed to, even though it meant allowing men into the house. She ordered my sisters to stay in their rooms, they were not to come out, but Miranda had requested my presence at the meeting so I, of course, had to go. It didn’t take long for the freak train to roll in. First Moroe, ever the eager pleaser, whom neither my mother nor I greeted, followed by Donna, who was excitedly chittering around. Heisenberg came last, shooting a smirk towards us before dropping onto the old loveseat. It creaked dangerously in protest at the sudden weight and I felt my mother stiffen at my side.

“That’s an antique, you oaf. Be more careful with things that do not belong to you.” I sneer, narrowing my eyes. His smirk widens considerably as he leans forward on his thighs, sliding his glasses down slightly so I can see his eyes.

“Trust me darlin’, I’m plenty gentle. You just have to beg first,” he tosses back at me, and if I had fed today I’m certain I would have flushed at his suggestive tone. My mother lets out a sound of anger but before she can cut in Mother Miranda arrives, essentially teleporting right in the middle of our potential screaming match.

[true-blue-megamind]

Fan Theory Thursday – The Not-So-Evil Overlord?

Shhh… Want to hear a secret?  Come closer... SPOILER ALERT!

Okay, this one delves a little deep into the imaginative side of Megamind fan theories, however I believe it holds enough interest and has enough support to be well worth discussing.  There is a supposition which I frankly love: our favorite blue alien was an Overlord of sorts before he briefly took control of Metro City, and he had good reasons to be so.  That might sound a little crazy, but bear with me.

This idea has appeared in several fan fictions, and essentially goes as follows: Megamind was more than a supervillain; he was also a crime boss, and he chose that path for the most unlikely of reasons. Bizarre though it may seem, his primary drive was bettering Metro City.  (And, yes, I’m aware of how contradictory that sounds.)  However, it’s logical when considered more closely.  By making himself the de facto ruler of the city’s underbelly, Megamind was able to control crime to an extent, probably even setting limits on certain activities, and guidelines for others.  In the majority of fan fictions using this concept, that includs things like reducing violent crime, setting purity standards and purchase limits for narcotics, and ensuring sex workers were neither underage nor abused.

I’ll be the first to admit that, on the surface at least, this seems like nothing more than fans seeking to justify or even moralize a beloved character, but research reveals that there is actually some support for this theory.  Firstly, there is the fact, touched upon previously in the Fan Theory post concerning the Warden, that Megamind was clearly already establishing control over other criminals at a young age.  While writing a truly wonderful blog article, Demishock actually went through the trouble of deciphering the newspaper clipping shown at the beginning of the film’s title sequence.  It contains, among other things, a reference to the fact that, although an elementary school age child, Megamind was feared and obeyed by other inmates at the prison where he grew up.  A quote from the Warden reads: “I've got experienced, hardened criminals in here who are afraid of him.” The article goes on to mention an incident which involved a few other inmates, adding that “the other prisoners refused to point fingers for fear of retaliation.”

It is quite possible that Megamind was already building and consolidating a base of power.

Next, there is the fact that the blue man seems to have lines he won’t cross, even as the self-proclaimed Evil Overlord. In one of the storyboards, when Megamind is approached by the Doom Syndicate, he clearly holds them in disdain, yet they are careful to placate him.  Obviously they have somewhat different standards.  When Agent Orange—who was later reimagined as Psycho-Delic before being cut from the film entirely—compares Megamind’s “inspirational” defeat of Metro Man to “a car crash on prom night,” the blue alien looks rather disgusted. Although they refer to celebrating his victory, it also seems the Doom Syndicate may be indirectly asking Megamind’s permission to go on a crime spree. While this may be because he is the new Overlord, it seems odd that other villains would immediately leap to the assumption such approval is necessary if they were accustomed to acting on their own. However, if they were already in the habit of requesting the blue alien’s sanction, their actions make more sense.

Whatever the case, it seems that, once again, Megamind and the Doom Syndicate may have very different ideas of what sorts of crimes are acceptable. The Destruction Worker refers to “really putting the screws to the city,” while Agent Orange adds his desire to “swim in the torment of the innocent.”  However, these suggestions don’t seem to match what we actually see Megamind doing.  In the movie, Megamind does, indeed, go on a crime spree, but none of it appears to be violent.  He certainly causes chaos, but no one seems to ever be injured.  In fact, in the DVD commentary, one of the creators even states outright that the supervillain never goes beyond vandalism and theft because he doesn’t really want to hurt anybody.  (Indeed, in the film it rather seems that, by being raised in jail, bullied, and constantly rejected, Megamind was pushed into supervillainy.) This, together with the previous evidence, paints an image of a man who has been forced to do some harsh things, but who nonetheless dislikes violence and, deep down, possesses a certain moral code, albeit a skewed one.  

There are, in fact, several other details that point toward Megamind being far from truly evil despite being a supervillain.  As I mentioned in Megamind and Identity, he displays several redeeming qualities, such as his largely friendly treatment of Minion, his respect for Roxanne’s intelligence, and his playful, affectionate game of fetch with the brainbots.  However, I won’t go into a long explanation about that here as it can be found in the aforementioned post.

Nonetheless, I don’t believe we can seriously expect that the former villain has never once hurt anyone in his life.  Keep in mind that, as discussed in the post How Strong is Megamind, the blue alien almost certainly had to fight in order to survive.  However, his unwillingness to attack citizens suggests that he only injured others when it was absolutely necessary.  Similarly, the aforementioned “news article” indicates that he may have limited his physically aggressive responses to other criminals only. (After all, the reference to prison inmates fearing him is the sole evidence of possible violence we have.)  I have seen it suggested here on Tumblr that he may have taken over Metro City in part because he believed that, if he didn’t, someone worse like the Doom Syndicate would.  It may even be possible that he was afraid of appearing soft and thus losing control over the criminal underworld.  

Of course, it has to be mentioned here that Megamind also fought with Metro Man, who certainly wasn’t a criminal.  However, there are two factors that I believe need to be considered.  The first is that it is very likely that Megamind didn’t expect he could truly harm his nemesis. This is evidenced by both the his apparent shock when Metro Man seems to actually be dead, and by his overt statement during the museum scene that he “didn’t think it would really work.”  The second is that, as young Metro Man was a bully, tormenting Megamind without provocation and encouraging other children to do the same, Megamind may have mentally placed him in the bad guy/threat category.

His lack of violence is not the only proof that Megamind had a better heart than most credited him for even when he was a supervillain. Keep in mind that he had a holographic disguise watch and a hoverbike.  Presumably, Megamind could have simply fled Metro City when Titan turned evil, but he didn’t.  Instead he went to Roxanne for help, stating that if they could not find the new villain’s weakness Titan would “destroy the whole city.”  And this was after Titan had tried to kill him.  Clearly, despite being a supervillain, Megamind cared enough about his home town to put his life in danger.

The final support for the Benevolent Overlord theory is less obvious: Megamind had to have been getting funds from somewhere even when Metro Man was still functioning as the Defender of Metro City. (Indeed, in some of the early concept art, the Evil Lair was imagined as a luxurious space boasting things like a huge library and a sleek laboratory.  Some fans still picture the living quarters in much the same way despite the creators stating that he built his inventions from whatever he could get his hands on.)  Near the beginning of the movie, Minion mentions a supplier in Romania, and presumably he and Megamind had to be getting food and other necessities somehow.  While it’s true that the blue villain was clearly not above thievery, we also know that his plots were always defeated by Metro Man, so it’s safe to assume that he rarely if ever got away with stealing anything before the former hero’s supposed “death.”  Of course, it also seems extremely unlikely, even laughable, that Megamind would have had a day job.  Where, then, did the money come from?  Many fans theorize that, as the local crime boss, he received a cut from all illegal activity. It certainly seems like the most probable explanation.  

Art by Kory Heinzen, found in The Art of Megamind by Richard von Busack

So why would Megamind build his technology and machines largely from scrap if he had a constant cash flow?  Given his concern for the city, several fan fictions have imagined the blue man secretly and anonymously donating a significant portion of his ill-gotten money to various charities and non-profits.  That idea is not directly supported by any evidence, but it does fit with what we know.  It’s also consistent with Megamind’s character: a feared supervillain who possesses a surprisingly good heart and, given his past, knows too well what it’s like to be thrown away by society.

So, was Megamind a crime boss as well as a supervillain?  Did he use that position to secretly better life in Metro City?  If so, is he still doing that now that he is the Defender of Metro City, thus curbing criminal activity from within as well as fighting it from without? (For the record, given that there is no apparent gang war happening during The Button of Doom, I would propose that the answer to the last question may be yes.)  These are certainly interesting ideas to consider, and the mere fact that this animated film offers enough details to argue the point is a testament to just how well-constructed the movie is.  I consider it yet more proof that the film Megamind is truly an underrated masterpiece.

[elriell]

Hey! I really appreciate the question and your willingness to hear my side of things, so I hope you don’t mind if this is a little lengthy reply but I feel like to give you a genuine idea it has to be ❤

Obvious: Easily perceived or understood; clear, self-evident, or apparent. Predictable and lacking in subtlety.

I’d recommend two posts that will go in to more detail on some of the overview points I am going to make, I 100% think they are important to what I am about to say. Here is the amazing post about why specifically it is Elain’s book, and this is my general post about why I think Elriel is endgame in itself and setting up for the next book. But I will try to summarise in to more concise points.

Right, so start with the set up/parallels between the stories as they stand thus far, leading up to ACOSF what we had in front of us;

1) Finally seeing Nessian POV. 2) Wings&Embers a very tension filled sexual chapter. 3) Emerie being included in Cassians chapter which caused a stir.

4) Set up the conflict for next book. (Nesta’s recovery/being banished)

VS. 

1) Finally seeing Azriel’s POV + Strong Elain implications in the 2nd Bonus.

2) A sexually driven chapter with tons of written parallels between Nessian/Elriel

3) Gwyn being included in Az’s chapter and stirring up fans. 

4) Set up the conflict for the next book. (Disobeying Rhys, Blood Duel, Az’s recovery)

They are so similar it is uncanny, and when an author says its obvious, then she clearly isn’t going to be sweeping the rug out from anyone, this is obvious.

“Nesta loosed a shuddering sigh and slid down the wall until she was sitting against it. Until she drew her knees to her chest and stared into the dimness. Still the silence raged and echoed around her. Still she felt nothing.” (ACOFAS)

“Azriel tucked in his wings and left without another word, stalking through the house and onto the front lawn to sit in the frigid starlight. To let the frost in his veins match the air around him. Until he felt nothing. Was again nothing at all.”  (ACOSF)

“He was grateful the streets were empty when he hurled that box into the Sidra. Hurled it hard enough that the splash echoed off the buildings flanking the river, ice cracking from the impact. Ice instantly re-formed over the hole he’d blown open. As if it, and the present, had never been.” (ACOFAS)

"Look, I … ” Az searched for the words, his voice becoming quiet. “If there’s another priestess here who might appreciate it, give it to them. But I’m not taking that necklace with me when I leave.” (ACOSF)

Azriel is exactly where Nesta was back in ACOFAS.

“He'd beg on his knees for a chance to taste it. But Azriel just stroked her neck again.” (Bonus POV)

“Every instinct in his body came roaring to the surface, so violent he had to choke them with a brutal grip or else he’d find himself on his knees, begging her for a touch, for anything.” (Wings & Embers)

“Knelt on those stars and mountains inked on his knees. He would bow for no one and nothing— But his mate. His equal.” (ACOMAF)

OR

“So, yes, I was jealous of him—because it will always be easy for him. And he will never know what it is to look up at the night sky and wish.”

“I get jealous sometimes. I’d never begrudge you for your happiness, but what you two have, Rhys …”

"The Cauldron chose three sisters. Tell me how it’s possible that my two brothers are with two of those sisters, yet the third was given to another." He had never before dared speak the words aloud.”

Paralleling Elriel’s story, actions, words against that of the main two couples is well, lacking in subtlety.

“Her arousal drifted up to him, and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head at the sweet scent.” (Bonus POV)

“It hit him in the gut so hard he could barely focus, and it took five centuries of training to make himself meet her eyes rather than let his own roll back into his head,” (Wings & Embers)

“Except him. He could see it, feel it. That first afternoon, he’d looked at her—not at the face and the body that human men marked, but her—and he had seen it all.” (Wings & Embers)

“It made sense, I supposed, that Azriel alone had listened to her. The male who heard things others could not … Perhaps he, too, had suffered as Elain had before he understood what gift he possessed.” (ACOWAR)

“Elain’s large brown eyes flickered, well aware of all that. Just as he knew she was well aware of why Azriel so rarely came to family dinners these days.” (Bonus POV)

You get the point though, parallels. Plenty of them...

Sarah set up conflict for them by reiterating the Blood Duel and forbidding them from seeing each other, not to mention Elain’s ties to the current plot as it stands with the Death Troves. Everything circles around them going forward.

She set up Elain breaking free and coming in to herself in Feysand’s POV which would have no need if she wasn’t going to be playing a central role in the next book.

We know SJM loves Azriel at the minute, she spoke about him frequently before ACOSF in her lives and that we would be setting up his journey for the next book... 

If she hadn’t made the comment about it being obvious I might even understand some doubt because she loves a good GOTCHA moment, (Rhys/Rowan etc...) but the obvious couple is the one that has been built for 5+ years, the one that has been paralleled to the main couples, the next Archeron sister in line. 

I don’t really grasp how it can been seen any other way... Gwyn is not obvious, half the casual readers didn’t pay an iota of thought about her role with him and even say shipper-readers have had to dissect what is 3, 4 maybe scenes vs. the plethora of Elriel ones. 

A handful of moments which can easily be explained as something friendly is not obvious, not me and not too many.

I wanted to keep this as short as possible or I would be pulling out quote after quote, but for sure check the linked posts out or even head over to my pinned post for a materlist of things!

I would love to know from you, what makes you doubt, is there a specific scene or thing? Please feel free to share your opinions back to me!  ❤

[suimin-chan]

Another fic idea that I might never write.

What if Naruto didn't trust Kakashi at all at first? This is a child who has seen the worst of the village people. He's seen the ones who have no reservations showing their hate for him. Those that hurt him out of an anger he doesn't understand. Those that ignore him, like he doesn't even exist. Ignore his suffering and attention seeking. And those that plaster fake smiles, that pretend that they don't hate him. Those who keep a distance, pretend kindness in order to get him to leave faster. He hates that last one the most. He had learned to recognize those fake smiles better after Mizuki conned him into stealing the Forbidden scroll. Fake smile that didn't reach his cold eyes. Honeyed words encouraging him. When Naruto should have known, that this man with such a care free attitude, who never gave a damn about him passing, suddenly wanted to help. He nearly lost Iruka to him. Iruka who had just started to care about him. Giving him the attention he craved. Scolding him like a parent. Taking him out to ramen. Iruka who took a shuriken to the back and told him to run and not listen to the hateful words Mizuki was spouting about Naruto having a demon in him.

So he's rightfully suspicious, in his mind, of another pale haired man with fake smiles, cold and calculating eyes... eye? Who's too nonchalant to be truthful. Who is always late. Lies about everything. Doesn't show much concern as of yet to their safety. Can be too harsh with his words at times while others are sickeningly sweet at times. Manipulating is what Iruka would say. That's what Mizuki had done to him. Said things that made Naruto feel on top of the world, just to get him to do what he wanted.

So he keeps his distance. Doesn't try to show off to get the man's attention. Let him praise Sasuke all he wants. Doesn't take his bait when he tries to rile Naruto up. Keeps away from any hair ruffles. Doesn't accept the invitation to have ramen along with his other teammates. He's not hungry, Iruka is expecting him, he wants to grab something else to eat but will be right back when Kakashi and the other two are done.

He complains to Iruka constantly. Tells him he doesn't like the man. Who reads porn in public and around children? That had gotten a rant out of Iruka. He doesn't try to get to know the man, and Iruka had said that while he trusts Kakashi, he also knew nothing about the strange man; no one really does other than probably Guy. He won't force Naruto to trust the man, but tells him to be sure to follow orders. Iruka had tried to convince him to trust the jonin sensei, but after Naruto pointed out that he doesn't have the best track record when it comes to trusting people, it was dropped. Grudgingly.

Naruto thinks the man was forced to be his sensei because of the demon. And isn't sure if the man would let him die to rid the village of the creature and Naruto. Iruka can't reassure him either, it's a possibility. One neither of them like. Iruka doesn't ask the Hokage for advice, both he and Naruto know that their concerns would be brushed off. Kakashi is a very loyal ninja. And the Hokage is a bit of a tattle-tale. He would tell Kakashi.

Kakashi is obviously confused. Naruto is nothing like he's seen and heard of. Bribing him with ramen doesn't work in opening him up. Neither does teasing him. He's never home when he checks, apparently he stays with Iruka. Naruto violently chases him off when he tries to drop in on the both of them eating at the ramen shop, or drags Iruka away.

It's obvious Naruto doesn't like him. But Kakashi doesn't know why. Iruka, when cornered, refuses to betray Naruto's trust. All attempts at getting close fail. He tries to ask Naruto about it when he's alone. But that just gets him a sexy jutsu and a Naruto who hides better than some ANBU. Calling him out about his dislike in front of Sasuke and Sakura has an embarrassed Naruto closing up tighter than a clam and refusing to so much as look at Kakashi. It also makes Sakura fuss at the boy and makes Sasuke draw away from him too. Casting suspicious eyes on Kakashi. After all, Naruto likes everyone, mostly, so if he doesn't like Kakashi, then clearly Sasuke missed something. Sakura, the goody-two-shoes, trust the adult in charge and looks at the two boys like they've lost their minds. Kakashi just doesn't know what to do.

The mission to Mist, goes horribly. But it does seem to shine a favorable light on Kakashi. Sasuke is back to treating him just like before. Naruto only warms up a little. The chunin recommendations ruin that. Naruto picks up on Iruka's anger and who it's directed to. The trust is out the window in the blink of an eye. They pass the preliminary test, and Iruka's side ring up to him again breaks the cool glares from Naruto. Brushing off training Naruto and choosing Sasuke seems to sting like a rejection to the child. Who according to Iruka, sees at as Kakashi not wanting to bother with him anymore. But there's nothing for it, Sasuke can learn more from him than Naruto could. And there is not enough time to spare. Naruto would probably only learn one thing where Sasuke could probably learn four. Sending him to Ebisu might have been a royal fuck up. So he's surprised to learn that Juraiya trained him.

They are all a bit distant with each other after all the funerals have ended. Naruto and Sasuke are at each other's throats more often than not. Kakashi rarely has time for them. Itatchi's return sends the one he was worried about the most but though would listen to him more, right out the village and chasing Orochimaru. It also leaves Naruto feeling betrayed. Kakashi spends every day in the hospital with Naruto and Iruka. Naruto slowly opens up around him. But then Naruto is leaving and Kakashi thinks all chances of having the boy trust him are gone. Until he gets a letter.

He really cherishes that letter.

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

In My Dreams Tonight

for @chaotic-bard who asked me for some fluff!

have a soulmates that dream about each other au featuring both a modern au and the canon universe!

brought to you by “Dreams Tonite” by Alvvays

---

“You’re nothing but trouble, bard,” the tall man glared from atop his horse. He always seemed to be glaring or glowering or huffing, the man in Jaskier’s dreams. The familiar stranger wore his long white hair pulled halfway back and he had golden eyes, the pupils of which were slit up the center like a cat’s. His name, Jaskier had learned after the third straight week of seeing him every night, was Geralt of Rivia. A Witcher, apparently, whose job it was to hunt down monsters.

“Ah, but what a lovely piece of trouble I am!” Jaskier replies. And he’s rather sassy himself in these dreams. Far more clever and ready to fight than he is when he’s awake. “You would miss me if I left, wouldn’t you, Geralt?”

“Hmm.”

The stranger hums a lot. He glares and he hums. Jaskier’s heart stutters frightfully in his chest whenever the man smiles, though. The sight is rare. Geralt has smiled perhaps three times in the past two months.

“Where are we going today?”

“Werewolf outside of town. You’re staying at the inn, where I know you can’t get into… nevermind. You can get into trouble anywhere.”

There’s a lightly teasing tone to the stranger’s voice that Jaskier hasn’t really heard before. He likes it. He craves more of it. He tosses and turns in his sleep, his skin damp with sweat. The dream goes on.

“Geralt, please,” he whines, “I can’t write ballads about monsters I haven’t seen! Or fights I did not attend! That’s lying to my audience, Geralt, and I simply won’t do it. I must go with you.”

“Drop it, Jaskier,” the man snarls. Jaskier feels sad. Incredibly sad.

Rejected?

“Gera-”

“I said drop it, bard.”

Jaskier wakes up feeling a little heartbroken and he yearns to be held. His pillow holds the fading scents of leather and wood-smoke. The sight of a pine sapling at the dog park makes him tear up.

He starts to wear the color yellow out of nowhere and his taste in jewelry switches from gold to silver. 

When his best friend asks him about the recent changes, he cannot answer.

---

Geralt pours himself a mug of tea and shakes his hair out of his face. He’s been having odd dreams lately, things that feel familiar but manage to stay just out of his conscious grasp. Someone important is waiting for him. Someone he love and cares about and needs. 

Geralt doesn’t really buy into the concept of soulmates, but he does understand instinct. He knows to trust his gut. He knows to listen and start paying attention when the same haunting blue eyes creep into his dreams every night for six months, plaguing him in the waking hours by refusing to give up their owners’ identity. 

He wipes a hand down his face and sighs loudly into the otherwise empty studio apartment. “Fuck me, I gotta figure this shit out. I gotta talk to Yen.”

Talking to himself has always helped him calm down. He does it again, just to hear his own low voice scraping through the silence. 

“I gotta see what’s going on with my head. These dreams are… getting to be a bit much, even for me.”

He nods to no one in particular and goes to text his best friend and coworker.

---

Jaskier hops off the bus and carries his guitar case down to the coffee shop on the corner. Finally, he’s managed to get a gig that wasn’t through the university.

He sets up his stuff in the tiny alcove the shop treats as a stage and watches as a few customers stroll around near the counter, waiting for their drinks or reading through the menu, hovering just far away enough from the line to keep others from growing confused.

He loves people watching. 

Once everything is ready to go and the light outside the window has dimmed a bit, indicating early evening has finally arrived, he pulls his guitar onto his lap and strums through a few quick chords.

“Rode here on the bus,

Now you're one of us.

It was magic hour,

Counting motorbikes on the turnpike;

One of Eisenhower's.”

 “Live your life on a merry-go-round;

Who starts a fire just to let it go out?”

He watches a particularly handsome man with broad shoulders and a vintage denim jacket approach the counter. Jaskier adds a haunting, well-practiced lilt to his voice as he goes into the chorus, hoping to get his attention:

“If I saw you on the street,

Would I have you in my dreams tonight?

If I saw you on the street,

Would I have you in my dreams tonight, tonight?”

An equally beautiful woman with long, curly black hair approaches the denim-clad angel and whisks him towards a table nearby. She settles with her back to Jaskier, leaving him with a decent view of the man’s sharp, lightly stubbled jaw, glittering eyes, and severe white ponytail. He’s gorgeous.

He’s also uncomfortably familiar.

Jaskier continues to perform, trying to identify his attractive mystery man the whole time and failing miserably.

---

“He’s everywhere, Yen. I feel like I could identify him by scent if I got close enough. I can’t remember his name, though. Or the color of his hair. I don’t know his face, only his eyes. It’s driving me crazy.”

“Have you talked to Dr. deStael about it?”

“Yeah, but she said this kind of thing is normal. Recurring dreams often help us sort out our trauma or something like that. I don’t know. I don’t feel traumatized by this guy I feel… protective of him. Maybe even like I love him?”

“Hmm.”

“Hey, that’s my line.”

“Shut up for a minute, this live music actually slaps and I want to listen to it. Then we can discuss your weird possessive tendencies towards your dream boyfriend.”

Geralt takes a slow sip of his coffee and glances up at the singer off to their left, perched on a barstool with his guitar held carefully on his lap. His voice is soft but somehow bright. Geralt finds himself utterly entranced.

“On the weird guitar;

Said you'd go to work

In the waking hour.

In fluorescent light,

Antisocialites watch a wilting flower.”

 “Live your life on a merry-go-round;

Who builds a wall just to let it fall down?”

The lyrics are strange and hold a dream-like quality to them. They draw a picture in Geralt’s head, something dark and heavy and oddly hollow. He has another sip of coffee and tries to ignore the feeling of panic welling up inside him. He glances at Yennefer to see if she’s picked up on his mood, but her violet eyes are focused on the singer and his nimble fingers as he continues to play and sing.

When he glances up towards their table and their eyes meet, Geralt loses the ability to breathe.

That shade of cornflower blue was…

Couldn’t be…

Had to be…

The gorgeous, feathery tenor continues to fill the air, whirling pleasant notes past his ears and deep into his subconscious. Geralt knows that voice. He’s heard this man laugh and sing and cry and scream a thousand different times. Through a handful of different lives. Geralt knows that face, those hands, those strong legs and long arms and blue fucking eyes. He’s held this singer in his arms every night for centuries, feeling his breathing as they both drift off to sleep.

He has protected this man and been protected by him in return. He has kissed and been kissed, caressed and been caressed. The two men sitting across from each other in the coffee shop physically embody an endless cycle of love. It has been bound up in the souls of two no-longer strangers. Geralt knows that he knows this man. 

He knows Jaskier.

Petal pink lips continue to form soft words and slender hands keep plucking at vibrating guitar strings:

“Don't sit by the phone for me,

Wait at home for me, all alone for me.

Your face was supposed to be

Hanging over me, like a rosary.”

Geralt stands suddenly, startling Yennefer but not the performer, even though he’s clearly just as shocked as Geralt about this recent development.

Their mutual realization.

“So morose for me,

Seeing ghosts of me,

Writing oaths to me,

Is it so naïve to wonder…”

Geralt crosses the room to the edge of the stage in three quick strides. Yennefer is close behind him, her latte just as abandoned as his coffee at their table. She grabs her friend’s arm as if to stop him from doing something violent, but when he doesn’t struggle against her grip she lets it go again easily. 

“Geralt?” the musician asks.

“Jaskier?” Geralt replies. The guitar is placed quickly to the side and a pair of incredibly familiar arms are thrown around the taller man’s neck. Geralt hugs back just as firmly, his arms flung low around the brunette’s waist. Geralt knows that this is Jaskier’s favorite way to be embraced; he doesn’t know how he’s aware of that fact, but it comes to the front of his mind clear as day. 

“Holy shit,” Jaskier breathes, leaning back to stare Geralt in the face. One of his string-calloused fingers traces down over Geralt’s eyelid and cheek and he cocks his head to the side. “No scar?”

“No,” Geralt shakes his head. “Not this lifetime, I guess.”

“Were we? Are we- are we, you know...?”

“Yeah,” Yen beams, adding her two cents from the sidelines. “I think so. Congrats, boys. This is one of those one in a million chances and you’ve gone and done it.”

“Done what?” Geralt asks. Jaskier tosses his head back and laughs. His happiness rings out through the cafe like a struck bell and Geralt’s heart stutters frantically. He really does love this man already. Wholeheartedly and without fear. “What have we done, Yen?”

“As obtuse now as you were then,” Jaskier chides affectionately. “Soulmates, my love. We’ve been bound by the red string of fate and ta-da! Here we are. Again, apparently.”

“Yes, okay,” Geralt breathes, nosing his way along Jaskier’s jaw with giddy determination. He presses a quick and wholly welcome kiss to the bard’s lips. “That makes sense.”

 “Do you... do you want me again? This time around?” Jaskier asks, fingers fiddling with one of the ties on Geralt’s hoodie. A pair of chapped lips press against his again and he sighs into it, melting against his no-longer-Witcher. 

“Yes. And the next one, as well.”

[medusinestories]

Black Sails, IV (S1, ep 04)

- Silver's horrified face when he finds out he's going to have to roast pigs is a Journey, starting with shock, then fake smiling, and then this horrified shuddery expression. It's just as interesting when they drop the dead pig at his feet and he clearly doesn't know what to do with it and also finds it disgusting. I can absolutely see where all the Jewish John Silver headcanons come from, especially since it's unlikely that a London urchin has never seen a dead pig and raw meat in general before.

- Here we have the first performance of Cassandra DeGroot: he knows that the bay they'd chosen to do the careening was too dangerous, and warns the crew. He's immediately countered by Flint, who has much more persuasive arguments to get the careening done fast but in a risky manner. (this whole thing reminds me of our current COVID/climate situation, where scientists get talked over by politicians, and people prefer listening to the latter because they seem to offer much better prospects than the “catastrophist” former)

- In this episode Billy is now quartermaster and he shows himself to actually be really good at disciplining the crew, something Gates, DeGroot and even Flint recognise. However, he also agreed to do the careening only because he's afraid to say no to Flint and allowed the men to have a fuck tent, which he feared would distract them - and it did, the two men who placed the rope on the wrong tree decided not to follow his orders and go fuck instead. This all weighs on him enormously after the disaster with Randall and Morley, who accuses him minutes before his death of already being in Flint's pocket. It's pretty clear that more responsibility doesn't do Billy's mental state any good.

- Morley's story about the Maria Aleyne gives some idea of a timeline, albeit a faint one. The incident took place "a number of years back", before Billy joined. This means that Billy is a somewhat new addition to the crew. We know that Randall was bosun when Billy joined. This also establishes that Lord Hamilton has been dead for several years, which now begs the question: who is the Lord Proprietor that Richard Guthrie is now in touch with? Did Thomas have a younger brother who inherited the Bahamas? Was someone new appointed? Was there a gap between Proprietors that allowed the pirates to establish themselves even more after Lord Alfred's death?

- I just adore the fact that Miranda actually went to stinking, violent Nassau because she was just too impatient to wait at home and wanted to be there when the Walrus came in and immediately hear the news of Lord Alfred's death. She is that vengeful and angry and I love her <3

- Speaking of which, this episode gives us the Passive-Agressive Sex Scene which makes so many people doubt of Flint's attraction to Miranda. Just look at Flint’s face: this man isn't uncomfortable or sad he is PISSED. He plays starfish and glares at Miranda all through it (while maintaining an erection all the same!). Miranda must be hella frustrated (or determined) because she manages to get off in spite of all of this (also, how uncommon is it for a sex scene to end when the woman climaxes rather than the man?) It's only when it ends that both Flint and Miranda are both shown as vulnerable and sad and reflective, with Flint reaching up to touch her but not quite getting there - imo because he's still angry but knows that she (and he) needs comfort.

- This leads into the argument over Meditations, and Miranda explicitly talking about Thomas and not wanting to forget him. The book hasn't been touched in a long time, confirming the idea that Miranda shared it with Richard Guthrie because Flint refuses to touch it. Her grief, her loneliness, are incredibly poignant in this scene, and we see Flint shift from bristling and stonily glaring at her, to absolutely melting (Toby's facial expression shifts here are just *chef's kiss*) and finally being gentle and tender with her. However, even though he promises to make things better, Miranda clearly doesn't believe him anymore.

- This brings in a big theme in the episode: betrayal from people you care for/trust. Mr Scott asks Eleanor not to do anything rash in order to get the Andromache’s guns, only to discover her Plan B: to kill Bryson if he didn't comply. In the meantime, Richard Guthrie tells (a very sceptical) Miranda that he can only support Eleanor and Flint, because he pretty much has no choice in the matter. He then proceeds to betray his daughter by making a deal with Bryson and with Mr Scott, who’s still smarting from Eleanor’s betrayal and who Guthrie tries to convince by saying that Eleanor's endeavour will lead to her death and Nassau’s destruction (considering what we later find out about Mr Scott, Eleanor’s safety is probably not be the argument that actually compels Mr Scott - but he certainly doesn't want the Navy searching the area and finding Maroon Island, and needs a stable Nassau to continue supplying his island).

- The Undercooked Pig scene and Silver's attempts at communicating with Flint will never not be funny. Silver looks so small when Flint glares him down, but that doesn't last all that long: once Flint has taught him how to cook the pork, Silver seems much more bold, asking Flint how he learned to glaze the pig, insisting that Flint should trust him and not Billy. This is also a moment where Silver shows that, unlike Flint, he is incredibly perceptive: he noticed that Billy is "straining at the seams" because of the lie he told. And while Flint spits a "there is no we" and calls Silver a rodent, it's obvious that Silver's words still have an impact on him. Their collaboration is sealed when Silver hands him the cleaver so that he can save Randall (and himself). When Flint returns the cleaver to Silver, he's ready to accept that Silver is actually on his side (albeit for selfish reasons) and listens to him for the first time.

- Max believed that she could charm Vane's remaining crew into being kind to her - and overall it seems to have worked. While again I hate this plot, it does give an interesting insight into how even the worst pirate crew is portrayed: most of the men are happy to comply with Max and get sexual rewards "for gentle obedience". Most of them, basically, aren't violent monsters deep down. However there's always one, in this case That Big Bastard (I'm sure he has a name, I just can't be bothered to google it), who clearly gets a kick out of torturing/raping people and hates the idea of a woman taking the lead.

- Fuck You Jack is another theme of this episode. Vane is high on opium and booze and has basically lost the will to do anything. Anne has been courted by several other crews, but Jack hasn't received any offers (note there's no loyalty to Vane here, Jack’s ready to leave, but nobody will have him) and nobody is willing to help him after the pearl cock-up. Then Noonan wants Max back, which Jack refuses because she's the only thing keeping the few members of his crew loyal - and Anne isn't on board with that, leading to her telling him to fuck himself. This, btw, might have crossed Jack’s mind considering the position she was in when he found her. I think it’s easy to forget that Jack is portrayed as pretty callous and happily willing to treat people like pawns too.

- When Richard Guthrie talks about Nassau, he describes it as a place "a place where she [Eleanor] matters, a place where you [Mr Scott] matter", and adds that a place like this isn't meant to last. Nassau, then, is currently an utopia where women and black people can have some semblance of power - and he doesn't believe that this will ever be allowed to exist because this kind of story never has a happy ending in their current society. But when Flint talks to Eleanor about their project, he's of the opposite view: people don't believe that it's possible, but when they succeed, they'll say it was inevitable. It seems Flint is firmly in the camp of "winners get to tell the story", and that the story will influence how the rest of the world sees them.

- When the Walrus tilts and squashes Randall, Flint stops Billy from intervening and rushes to rescue Randall himself - even though he knows the ship will be cut loose at any moment. He puts himself into incredible danger in this moment. Why? Theoretically, it could be for a manipulative purpose: to look good to the crew, or to get rid of Morley. But Flint seems genuinely involved in the struggle to save Randall, and he barely had time to think before he ran off. I feel that this is a rare spontaneous moment for Flint, where instead of thinking about his plans or his position as Captain, he just thinks like a person in an emergency who wants to rescue someone else. He absolutely could have died out there. And while Billy seems to suspect him of having killed Morley, I don't find that reading compatible with what we're shown of Flint trying to save Randall. True, he may have kicked/pushed Morley at the very last second, but we’ll never know that for sure.

- Back to the theme of people betraying their loved ones, we have Richard Guthrie getting back to Miranda, telling her he knows who she is and revealing the "Thomas went mad because Miranda and Flint cheated" story which he heard from Lord Alfred himself. So now Miranda knows that her identity has been revealed and that Richard could spread the story to, say, Pastor Lambrick (let's not pretend this didn't cross her mind, she keeps her identity secret for a reason). And then Guthrie offers her a way back to civilisation. This, right after a kid threw a stone at her, calling her a witch. This, after Flint has promised to make things better, even as he goes deeper into reckless/utopian plans of fortifying Nassau. Backed into a corner, was Miranda ever going to refuse, if she could be safe and have him be safe? And obviously, Richard Guthrie isn't doing this out of the kindness of his heart. He apparently figured out that Miranda was a way to get in touch with Pastor Lambrick and that ridding New Providence of Flint and winning over the “good”, normal inhabitants would be a perfect beginning to buying back his influence on the Island - the end goal being named Governor, of course.

- If there was any doubt that Vane’s tough guy thing is part of an act, his opium hallucination of Eleanor makes it crystal clear: "you're alone, you don't have to pretend with me". That is, pretend that he's not afraid and that he's not vulnerable. The hallucination also offers Vane an explanation for why Eleanor is how she is: like him she's afraid of appearing weak. He's actually spot on, a big problem in their relationship is that they're too alike and are struggling for dominance. Which is probably why Vane wants to overcome his fear and weakness, and regain power by confronting his old slave master (btw, nice parallel with Flint haunted by Miranda in S3). The scene where Vane kills Noonan also shows him in a very animalistic light - at first he's cornered and somewhat pathetic, beaten, throwing up, only saved by the fact that a gun misfires. Then he turns violent: quick, instinctive and relentless, deaf to Noonan's plea to leave him alive, even if theoretically it could have been profitable for him.

- I have to say, I snickered quite a bit when Pastor Lambrick sees Richard Guthrie and tells him "God teaches us not to cheer when someone stumbles, in your case I may ask his forgiveness". I mean, I really see his point. He leads a group of Puritans who are trying to make a life for themselves on this island. Historically, people who lived and farmed in New Providence were constant targets for errant pirates, who robbed, raped and killed a lot of them. This is what the Pastor is trying to protect his congregation from (and Miranda, since he doesn't understand why she's with Flint and is likely terrified that a pirate lives so close to his congregation, hence the spies he sends out). There's a bit of a parallel with Billy, where both Lambrick and Billy are presented as being very preoccupied with the well-being of the group they're responsible for, and both are presented as, well, Goody-Two-Shoes - (self-)righteous, loyal, honest, caring. Except they're both human, and sooner or later they falter.

[bitchin-beskar]

all he could do was watch

Rating: M

Warnings: Mentions of death, panic attacks, childhood trauma. Angst. I’m so sorry. 

Pairing: Pre-Din Djarin x Reader (no use of Y/N) 

Word Count: 2k

A/N: MAJOR SPOILERS FOR SEASON 2 EPISODE 14: THE TRAGEDY. IF Y’ALL HAVEN’T SEEN IT DON’T READ THIS FIC. That being said, I will be writing part 2 after tonight’s season finale, so be prepared. I cried writing this. I’m sorry. (No I’m not.)

Please consider reblogging and leaving a comment!! I love hearing what y’all think!!!

“Well, I guess this is it.”

You looked around at the strange stone formations, only partially paying attention as Mando rambled to Grogu.

“Does this look Jedi to you?”

You look at the way the stones are arranged, the carvings in the rock familiar to you even after all this time. Yet, you keep your mouth shut. Mando isn’t asking you, and even if he was, you’d lie to him. Just like you’ve lied to him every other time he’s asked about the Jedi. 

“I guess,” he grunts, setting Grogu down, “You sit right here. Okay. Here we go.”

Grogu babbles at the two of you, and Mando cocks his head. “This is the seeing stone. Are you seeing anything?”

A snort bursts free from your mouth before you can stop it, and you see Mando’s head swivel around to you, and you can feel the look of exasperation he’s giving you. 

Grogu babbles some more, and Mando turns back to him. “Or are they supposed to see you? Maybe there’s some kind of... control, or something.”

Grogu sees a little insect, and coos, reaching for it. Mando sighs, low and heavy. “Oh, come on, kid. Ahsoka told me all I had to do was get you here and you’d do the rest.”

The sound of thrusters suddenly reach your ears, and you jerk your head up in surprise and not a small amount of fear. You’re not that close to the ship, and you’re out in the open right now, and there’s not a lot of cover. 

“Time’s up, kid. We gotta get out of here.” You and Mando turn towards Grogu, and your eyes widen upon seeing him surrounded by a Force shield. “We don’t have time for this. We got to get–”

“Mando, no!” 

Your warning comes too late, and Mando is thrown back from Grogu, the shield blasting him back. You run to his side, helping him up from the dirt. 

“What the hell–” he grunts, movements jerky from being thrown sideways so violently. 

“It’s a Force shield,” you mutter, without thinking. “Nothing’s getting through that.”

Luckily, Mando doesn’t hear you, too focused on Grogu. He looks back and forth between the baby and where the ship had landed, clearly debating. 

“Stay here!” He barks at you. “I’ll see if I can buy him some time.” His helmet turns to Grogu. “Can you please hurry up?”

You’re left standing amongst the stone pillars, watching as Mando begins to make his way down the side of the mountain. Anxiously, you turn to Grogu. “Come on, kiddo. We can’t stay here right now.” You wish you could train the kid, but it’s been years since you used the Force, the warning your mentor and friend had given you at the beginning of the Purges still at the forefront of your mind. 

“Run, ad’ika. Run as far and as fast as you can. Order 66 commands us to kill all the Jedi. Don’t use the Force, and don’t get caught. Now go!” 

A few tears rolled down your cheeks as you remember the frantic hug, the desperate way Rex had gripped your shoulders as he shoved a small pack into your arms, eyes bright with terror as the sounds of his brethren slaughtering yours filled your ears. It had been the last time you’d seen the clone Captain. 

You’d listened to him, and you hadn’t used the Force, not for anything. Your lightsaber had been left in the Temple when you’d fled, so you’d trained with a staff instead, although Rex had made sure you knew your way around a blaster too. And for years, you’d lived, completely cut off from the Force, and it had been fine. You’d been fine. 

Until you met Mando and Grogu.

You’d recognized Grogu immediately. He’d been at the Temple, same as you. You rarely trained with him, since he was so much younger than you, but you’d known who he was. He didn't’ seem to recognize you, and you figured that was a good thing. The fewer people who knew of your past, the better. 

Mando had been cautious to take you on as a passenger, but he’d grown more comfortable around you in the ensuing months. You’d tried keeping your distance, knowing that the secret you were keeping could ruin everything, but somehow, Mando had wormed his way under your skin.

A sudden noise startled you, and you looked up, eyes widening when you saw the slight shadow of what looked to be a Star Destroyer in the atmosphere. Frantically glancing around, you realized Mando was nowhere in sight. 

You looked over to see Grogu still enclosed in the Force shield, and you made a split second decision. 

“Sorry buddy, I’ve gotta warn Mando. Stay here.”

Worriedly glancing at his still form once more, you began to follow the trail Mando had taken down the mountain, hurrying as fast as you could over the rocky terrain.

It took you a couple minutes, but you finally heard voices. They were arguing, but no blasters were being shot, so you hoped they weren’t enemies, or at least, they wouldn’t shoot you on sight.

The ground leveled out, and you broke into a run. Rounding the corner, you saw the back of Mando, and two people in front of him, although you couldn’t see who they were. 

“MANDO!” You yelled, trying to get his attention. “MANDO!” 

He whirled around, and you stumbled to a stop in front of him, gasping. “Mando, there’s a Star Destroyer here, we have to–” your frantic plea suddenly cut off as you noticed the man standing behind Mando, your throat closing up and you felt the blood drain out of your face. 

“Hey, hey, what is it?” Mando was shaking you, trying to get you to talk to him, but your eyes were glued to the man in the black cloak, unable to look away from the familiar face. “Cyar’ika, what’s wrong?” 

You sucked in a shaky breath, desperately trying to stop the tears in your eyes falling down your cheeks. “I–I, I don’t–” 

It was too much, the memories were too much, and suddenly you were back at the Temple, blaster-fire and smoke surrounding you as Rex begged you to leave so that you wouldn’t be killed. You were a scared little kid again, surrounded by death and destruction, and you couldn’t breathe–”

“Look at me!”

There were hands on your cheeks, and you blinked, the sounds of blasters and death cries fading into nothing as you stared into the dark visor of the Mandalorian. His gloved hands were cupping your cheeks keeping your face trained at him as he tried to get you to speak.

“Where’s the kid?”

That snapped you out of your downwards spiral, and suddenly a whole new panic took over your mind. 

“He’s still at the seeing stone, but there’s a Star Destroyer, he won’t be safe as soon as the shield comes down, we have to go–”

Mando begins to move, tugging you along as he runs back up the side of the mountain, jumping over rocks and bushes as he fights to get back to Grogu as quick as possible. You stumble along, telling yourself to ignore the man that shares Rex’s face, just focus on getting to the kid and then you can have your breakdown, later in the privacy of the Crest. 

When the two of you get back to the stone, you see Grogu still surrounded by the Force shield. Before you can stop him, Mando tries a second time to get to Grogu, but he gets thrown back again, this time knocking him out. 

“Shit,” you groan, rolling him onto his back as you shake his shoulders. “Dammit Mando, now is not the time for this, wake up!”

He sits up with a groan, grabbing your arms as he regains consciousness. You’re kneeling in front of him, one hand on his arm, the other cupping the side of his neck. He shifts, and you slowly help him stand. 

“Okay,” he murmurs, looking at Grogu before turning his head to stare at you. “I’m gonna protect you. Both of you. Just stay here.” He unsheathes his vibroblade, handing it to you. He doesn’t have many weapons on him, and you try to shove it back at him, but he forces your grasp around the hilt, fingers curling over yours as he presses it towards you. “I’ll be back soon.”

You stare into the visor, nodding slowly. He still doesn’t move, and for a moment you wonder what he’s doing when he slowly tilts his head forward, the cool beskar of his helmet resting against your forehead. He holds you there, one hand on your waist, the other wrapped around your fist as you clutch his vibroblade, his helmet pressing against yours in a gesture that feels way too intimate, but you don’t want it to stop. 

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum.” 

Though you don’t understand his words, they still send a shiver down your spine, the weight of them pressing heavy against your chest. 

“What does that mean?”

He sighs, finally pulling his head away from yours and standing back. “If we survive this, I’ll tell you.” 

With that, he turns, and you watch with a sinking heart as he begins the careful climb back down the mountain. You’ve got a bad feeling about all this, and you only hope that you both will come out the other side unscathed. 

A tiny whimper comes from behind you, and you whirl around, seeing the Force shield fade, and little Grogu slump over in exhaustion. Rushing over, you pick him up, cradling him in your arms.

“Brilliant timing, little one,” you mutter sarcastically, looking around nervously. “Just fantastic.”

The sound of blasters being fired and the cries of stormtroopers dying rang in your ears as you tried to get Grogu to wake up. But, apparently whatever he’d done on the seeing stone had completely sapped his energy. 

As the sounds of the firefight die down, you see something rapidly approaching. As it gets closer, you realize what they are. Dark Troopers. Fuck. Your vibroblade isn’t going to do shit against them.

There’s nowhere for you to run, nowhere for you to hide, they’re approaching too fast. They land in a circle around you, and you clutch Grogu tighter to your chest. They advance, and Grogu wakes up, immediately whimpering as he sees the Troopers marching steadily closer. You’re hyperventilating, head whipping back and forth, trying to find an escape. As one of them reaches for Grogu, you throw your hand out, as though to push them away. 

It’s sudden, the rush, the energy, and it takes you a moment, watching the Trooper fly backwards, for you to realize that you’ve just used the Force. Something brushes across your back and you whirl around, pushing out with the Force again, shoving the second Trooper away from you. 

Unfortunately, you’re not fast enough, and the other two are too quick, one of them yanking Grogu out of your arms, the other one wrapping it’s ‘arms’ around you, restricting you, and then you’re in the air. 

You struggle, but the grip is solid, and you can’t escape. You see Mando and the woman from earlier reach the stones as you’re rising away, and you can’t help the desperate cry that leaves your lips. 

“MANDO!” 

***

He reaches the seeing stone just in time to see two Dark Troopers taking off, one of them holding the Child, the other one restraining your struggling form. Without his jetpack, he’s stuck as a spectator to your abduction. He can see the tears on your cheeks, and he knows the exact moment you see him, because your mouth opens and a heartwrenching scream escapes your lips, calling desperately to him. 

He falls to his knees as your voice pierces his ears, screaming his name, screaming for him. And all he can do is watch. 

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[harrysweasleys]

The Name of the Game

Request: Would you do a George Weasley imagine where at a party he gets jealous when his crush who’s Golden Trio’s Slytherin friend has to kiss Draco Malfoy during a game of spin the bottle but it turns into anger when he finds out that Draco charmed the game to get her, even though the reader can’t stand Draco?

Warnings: none

Word Count: 3.7k

A/N: i had a lot of fun writing this! requests are open and gif isn’t mine! x

-

George Weasley was a lot of things. He was confident, he was brave, he was bold, he was a troublemaker, and he was smitten.

When George first saw you, donned in your usual emerald Slytherin gown, he noticed how your H/C hair fell in lose strands around your face, how the shimmer in your eye as you giggled with your friend seemed to draw him in, and how your dazzling smile took his breath away.

But, naturally, due to his pride and the fact that you were indeed a Slytherin, he forced himself to completely push you out of his mind. It was hard, you did end up having a few classes together — which made George wonder how he’d never noticed you before.

And so he tried to ignore how you looked in the light of the setting sun in the Great Hall during dinner, or how pleased you looked when receiving your grades in different classes, or how you hid your laughter behind your hand when George and his twin pulled off another successful prank that no doubt also ended with a pissed off Filch.

But all that ignoring became quite difficult when you became friends with Harry and Hermione, eventually ending with you befriending Ron as well. You’d hang out with them in the library, come to talk to them at their table in the Great Hall, and you even cheered on Gryffindor when they were playing Quidditch — when Slytherin wasn’t their rival, of course.

“She’s different from other Slytherins,” Hermione defended you when fellow Gryffindors would talk about how befriending a Slytherin was a betrayal of house pride.

So, all in all, George found it hard to keep you off his mind. Not that he minded, really. He found you the prettiest person he’d ever seen. But at the same time, he had never actually spoken a single word to you. Fred had absolutely adored teasing him about it, but all in all, George was determined to make himself known to you.

So, one day, as you were standing over Hermione at lunch time in the Great Hall, the two of you deep in conversation about the Arithmancy assignment you had been given, Fred whacked George over the shoulder with a smirk.

“Oi, it’s your secret girlfriend,” Fred nodded his head in your direction, causing George to roll his eyes and smack his twin right back.

“Shut your face, you git,” he spat back, trying to hide the flush on his cheeks as the two made their way over to the empty seats between Ron and Ginny.

As George took his seat, he looked up at you and flashed you a kind smile, which you retaliated. His heart lept and he had to look down at his breakfast plate to keep himself from grinning at you like a fool.

“Mornin’ Y/N!” Fred grinned at you, elbowing his brother harshly in the ribs.

“Oh — hi,” you smiled back shyly, “Good morning, I mean.”

Fred squinted his eyes at George, who was glaring at him to the point where he could feel his eyes burning into his own. But, George remained silent, picking at the breakfast sausage that was on his plate with a sulky expression.

“Y/L/N, fraternizing with the enemy again?” you jumped back at the sound of Malfoy’s voice, and George took immediate notice of how tense your body became. Clearly some Slytherins weren’t fond of Malfoy either.

“Just because they’re your enemies, doesn’t make them mine, Malfoy,” you replied cooly, crossing your arms and turning to face him with your nose held high, “If you had no other intention than to come here and tell me off, I would much rather you save your voice.”

George’s eyebrows shot up as he watched you stand up to Malfoy, who they had all tried their absolute best to avoid in all their years of schooling.

Malfoy didn’t respond, but he shot a glare at Harry and Ron before stalking off to the Slytherin table.

“Anyways,” you returned to your conversation with a softer voice, “I’ll see you later in class.”

Hermione bid you a good day and returned to her food, before you came rushing back over with a frantic expression, “Oh — almost forget, we’re hosting a party in the Slytherin common room tonight. One of my fellow Slytherins, Blaise Zabini, he’s just been arranged a marriage so we’re celebrating. He’s pretty happy about it. And I don’t think he has a problem with you all so you’re welcome to come.”

Your eyes flickered to George before looking across to the rest of the gang, hoping they’d accompany you to a party you didn’t feel like going to.

George felt his heart flip. This could be a chance to talk to you. He nudged Fred in the knee, and his twin flashed a wicked grin.

“Course we’ll be there,” Fred smiled at you, “Georgie and I never miss a party.” Hermione, Ron, Harry, and Ginny all agreed to accompany you as well.

You grinned, your eyes twinkling, “Perfect. I’ve heard you two boys know how to liven a party.”

And with a quick wink in the direction of the twins, you walked gracefully back to the table of your house.

“If you don’t chat her up tonight, I’m going to be disappointed, mate,” Fred shook his head, shoving a piece of toast in his mouth as George shot him a look. It was rare he was speechless, but he found himself struggling to find anything to say in the moment, the butterflies fluttering violently in his stomach as he thought of the events that might unfold.

— —

The Slytherin common room was more packed than you had ever seen it. There were people from loads of different houses, each wearing casual clothing and making them all indistinguishable. The fireplace was roaring and the windows were open, letting a fresh breeze roll through to manage the temperature.

As Hermione led the way in, followed closely by Harry and the Weasleys, they were immediately overwhelmed by the sound of music and the heat of so many bodies.

George wore a casual long sleeved shirt with a little logo on the right chest pocket, and what he called ‘his best pants’ — which were really just a pair of old black jeans. As soon as he stepped in the room, he thanked his genetics for making him so tall as he could easily crane his neck around the room in search for your familiar Y/C/H hair.

And he spotted you almost immediately.

“Oh! It’s Luna! She never goes to these things — I’m going to say hi,” Hermione pushed her way through the crowd and disappeared. Ron followed after her, and Fred made his way towards the snack table where he aimed to hide a few Skiving Snackbox treats. George, however, was glaring down the Slytherin boy you were currently speaking to.

He had his hand on the wall near your head, his face way too close to yours for George’s liking. He wasn’t sure why he was feeling stupidly jealous, it’s not like he’s ever even spoken to you.

“Just go, mate,” Fred gave George a shove and sent him tumbling into the crowd, muttering apologies for bumping into a group of Hufflepuffs by the fireplace. He made his way straight towards you, his heart pounding loudly, and stopped as soon as your eyes locked on his.

“Oh — hi, George,” you smiled up at him, turning your attention away from the dark haired Slytherin boy who stalked off now that he has lost your attention, “You came!”

“Of course,” George grinned despite the nervous flutters in his heart, “It’s a lot busier than I expected, to be quite honest.”

You giggled, looking around the room with a curt nod, “It always turns out crazier than expected. Zabini really wanted to go all out, says it’s like his — what do muggles call it — Bachelor party.”

George raised his eyebrows and moved closer to you and out of the way of the crowd so people could walk by without stepping on his feet, “Does he even know half of these people?”

“Doubt it,” you replied, lifting your hand to push your hair out of your face, “And neither does the bride. In fact, she doesn’t even go here. She’s from Paris.”

George nodded, not sure what to say. He didn’t even know Zabini, so the wedding information didn’t mean much to him.

“I noticed Fred spiking the snacks,” you smirked up at George after a moment of silence, “Knew you guys would make this interesting.”

He felt his cheeks turning pink, but brushed it off with a confident grin, “If you knew that, why’d you never invite us before?”

He felt a surge of pride as a blush rose to your cheeks, and you let your hair fall back over your face to hide it, “Can I be honest? You guys are a little intimidating.”

George’s eyes widened, “Are we now?”

He was quite pleased you had paid enough attention to him to even be intimidated. Not that that’s how he wanted you to feel, but it was better than nothing.

“Yes!” you chuckled, swatting at his arm to rid him of his proud smirk, “I never know when you two are lurking about a corner, ready to drench someone or give them a nosebleed nougat.”

“You even know the names,” George’s smirk widened, “Nicely done. But don’t worry, stay on our good side and you won’t have to suffer.”

You laughed, tossing your head back, and George thought it was the prettiest sound in the entire world. He would listen to you laugh all day if given the chance.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“HEY! GAME TIME!” Goyle stood up on a table, waving his hands to get everyone’s attention. George, wanting to hex him for ending his conversation with you, turned to face him with a scowl.

“Oh, boy, this always happens,” you groaned, “They pick some lame teen game to play and someone always ends up either hurt or heart broken,” George nodded at your words, “It’s usually Parkinson. She’s in love with Malfoy, you see.”

“Wait — hold up,” George whispered back to you with a shocked tone in his voice, “There’s a person out there who loves that git?”

You covered your mouth to hide your giggle, “Apparently. Didn’t think it was possible.”

George shook his head, a bewildered expression on his face, and turned back to face Goyle, who had now silenced the room with his cry for attention.

“The man of the hour, Zabini, has chosen spin the bottle!” he announced, a creepy grin on his overly round head. George could feel you sulk from next to him, you head hitting the wall with a disappointed thump.

“Again?” you groaned, “We played this last time.”

Before George could respond, a familiar head of platinum hair pushed through the crowd and appeared in front of you, “Spin the bottle, huh? Always a good game if you want to impress someone.”

George had no idea what Malfoy was trying to get at, but by the look on your face, he had probably tried this before.

“Or a bad one if you want to get away from someone,” you quipped back, squinting your eyes.

George could feel the strange tention between you two, and he had a strong feeling that Malfoy’s likeness towards you was one sided.

“Right — you left last game,” Malfoy nodded his head, “Right after Crabbe spun it and it landed on you.”

George coughed to cover his laugh. He could only imagine how furious Crabbe was to be rejected publicly like that.

“Well, give Crabbe my apologies. I didn’t feel like kissing a slug,” you gave Malfoy a sarcastic smile and grabbed George’s hand, pulling him over to the circle and away from the blond, “Sorry about him. Do you want to join?”

George could help but think about what it would be like if he played and got to kiss you. He had been wanting to make a move for quite some time, and sure, this wasn’t the best way to have a first kiss, but he couldn’t think straight right now. Your hand was intertwined in his and you were looking up at him with such a gentle smile, he couldn’t help but give in.

“Sure.”

So the two of you took your places around the circle, sitting next to each other. Only about twenty people had decided to play, Fred and Ron were seated across George, and Hermione and Harry were watching with judgemental eyes from the other side of the room.

“Zabini, since it’s your party, you go first,” a Slytherin girl spoke up, twirling a strand of blonde hair around her finger and batting her eyelashes.

Zabini grinned, spinning the bottle quickly. It landed on Alicia Spinnet, a girl on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, who shrugged her shoulders and leaned over, meeting Zabini’s lips with her own. Wolf whistles made their way across the group and both of them looked slightly flushed when pulling away.

George could feel how tense you were, and had to admit even he felt slightly out of place himself.

Alicia spun it next, and ended up kissing Theo Nott from Slytherin, who ended up kissing Pansy Parkinson.

Eventually, Zabini spoke up and requested that Malfoy — who he called his best friend ever — got a turn. As he leaned forward to reach the bottle, George tried to ignore the bubbling jealousy as Malfoy shot a wink your way, his eyes lingering on you.

And sure enough, after Malfoy spun the bottle, it landed on you.

George felt his blood boil, and he could see the uncomfortable expression on your face without even looking at you.

“Great,” you muttered, pulling your sleeves down and hiding your hands, a nervous habit George had noticed you do in class.

“You don’t have to kiss him,” he whispered to you, hoping to ease your consious.

“That’s the point of the game, isn’t it?” you asked grimly, leaning forwards to the eager Malfoy. You pressed your lips to his quickly, pulling away before either of you could register the kiss happened. George looked away, his heart skipping beats and his hands becoming clammy.

This was torture.

Malfoy pulled away and sat back down, smirking proudly. While you, on the other hand, were back to hiding behind your hair.

“Your turn to spin, Y/N,” Zabini slurred, “Get it!”

You leaned forwards, spinning the bottle quickly to get it away from you. But, to both you and George’s horror, the bottle landed on Malfoy.

“Little git,” George sneered, hating this game with every ounce of his being.

George turned away as you once more, leaned towards the middle of the circle and quickly put your lips on Malfoy’s before pulling away hastily, wiping your lips with the back of your hand.

“This is gross,” you mumbled, feeling disgusted with yourself. George’s jaw was clenched as he glared at Malfoy, who was boasting about his two kisses with you.

“Spiiiin, Draco!” Zabini cheered once more. And as Malfoy leaned to spin, George’s eye caught sight of his lips moving.

The bastard is jinxing the bottle.

“Oi, Malfoy,” George caught himself speaking up and gaining the attention of everyone in the room, “You’re jinxing it.”

Malfoy glared at him, eyes dark, “Am not.”

George stood up before he could stop himself, “I saw you.” Your eyes were darting back and forth, wondering how George knew Malfoy had jinxed the bottle.

“Did not,” Malfoy crossed his arms, “Maybe the universe just knows Y/L/N wants me.”

“Oh, please,” you scoffed before George could intervene again, “That’s never going to happen. I’ve never wanted you and never will. Now, did you jinx the bottle?”

George was too focused glaring at Malfoy to notice you had been standing up next to him, arms crossed and staring down at the blond.

“Fine — fine,” Malfoy raised his hands in mock surrender, “So what? It’s just a game.”

The entire circle had now gone silent. Your fists were clenched by your sides and your cheeks were tinted red in anger. George had never seen you this angry before, but he didn’t blame you. He was furious as well.

“You — oh, you’re so insufferable!” you shouted, causing a few people sitting near you to jump, George included, “You walk with your head held high thinking everyone wants you, or wants to be like you. You’re — I can’t — just stay away from me.”

George had to admit, you had balls for standing up to Malfoy. With a furious glare, you grabbed George’s hand and stomped out of the circle and out of the entrance to the common room.

He could feel his heart pounding. Whether it was from proximity to you or because of the events that just unfolded, he wasn’t sure, but this was not at all how he invisioned this night going. He thought he’d get the chance to talk to you one on one, maybe even get the courage to ask you out, but his desires now felt selfish as he watched you lean against the wall and slide down, your hands clutched in your hair.

“Sorry you had to see that,” you mumbled softly, looking up at George who had been standing there like a fool.

“No, don’t apologize,” he walked over and sat next to you, bringing his knees to his chest, “That was horrible. I’m sorry he did that to you.”

“He’s always been like that,” you shrugged, “We’ve known each other since we were kids. Our dads were friends at Hogwarts. I know, right? Who’d want to be friends with Lucius?”

George found himself chuckling, and with a small jolt of bravery, placed his hand on your knee. Relief spread through his body when you didn’t pull away.

“So my entire childhood revolved around having a close bond with Malfoy. Even though he’s younger than me, and started Hogwarts after me, our parents wanted us to stick together,” you sighed, learning your head against the wall, “It wouldn’t be so bad if he weren’t an obnoxious little brat. But then, in his third year, he started making weird advances and I kept turning him down, I guess to him that was just fuel to the fire.”

“He’s really the opposite of having the whole package, isn’t he?” George smiled, “Well, at least you turned out better. And I’m sorry you have to deal with him so often.”

You smiled up at him and his heart fluttered again, “Thanks, George.”

You sat in silence for a while — although George swore his heartbeat was loud enough to echo through the dark dungeon hallway — but it was comfortable. Nice, even. George’s hand was warm against your knee and you didn’t want him to pull it away.

“Thanks. For sticking up for me, I mean. You didn’t have to. And sorry for dragging you out with me. I just didn’t want to be alone, I guess.”

You met his gaze, and it was like you had never seen him properly before. His freckled cheeks were a tad rosier, and his brown eyes were so warm and welcoming, your heart did a summersault just by looking into them.

“Don’t apologize. I wanted to be with you,” he spoke softly, looking down at you before his eyes widened, “I—I mean, you know, you’re good company.

“Smooth save,” you smirked, noticing for the first time how close his face was to yours. He smelled like cinnamon and... was it chocolate? You weren’t sure. But he smelled good.

George, looking down into your eyes as well, picked up on the faint peachy smell of your perfume and the way your hair framed your face perfectly, capturing your face like a photograph.

In the moment, it felt as if you two were alone in the entire school. No dark, murky hallways, no looming school assignments, no party going on on the other side of the Slytherin common room entrance. Just you two.

“I like you,” George sputtered out, blinking rapidly as if he hadn’t planned on saying it, “I wanted to be cool about it but I kind of failed.” And it was true, he hasn’t planned on saying it. But as he looked down at you, he couldn’t help but feel his heart swell, and he knew he’d be hitting himself over the head if he didn’t sieze the chance right now.

You, on the other hand, felt your breath leave your body as tingles made their way up your spin. He liked you. George Weasley liked you. It felt surreal.

You had noticed how cute he was before, even finding him one of the most charming guys in school, but you didn’t think he’d think of you as anything more than ‘Hermione’s Slytherin friend.’

“I thought you were cool,” you giggled, leaning closer to him, “You’re always pretty cool.”

And before any of you said another word, his lips were on yours. He was much gentler than you thought he would be — he always seemed to have such a loud presence. But his lips were soft, moulding against your own as if they were meant to be.

His hand left your knee and found it’s way to the back of your head, pulling you even closer as your lips remained connected.

George was over the moon. He had thought about what it would be like to feel your lips moving against his, to have your hands tangled in his hair, your body pressed against his. But nothing could have prepared him for the actual thing.

His heart was hammering violently against his chest and he swore every inch of his body was on fire, burning. The only thing grounding him to reality was the pinch of your hands in his hair, the soft touch of your lips on his own, and the intoxicating smell of your fruity perfume.

Reluctantly, he pulled away from you to catch his breath, thinking that that was probably the best kiss anyone’s ever had.

“Well,” he breathed out, “this party did end up going better than I though.”

-

[dwellordream]

“The gender segregation of nineteenth-century society reached deep into coeducational high schools. Students may have shared classes and competed for awards, but they were slow to lose their consciousness (if they ever did) that they belonged to two opposing corporate bodies, distinguished by culture and loyalty: the boys and the girls. Such distinctions were often made by teachers and administrators even in grammar schools.

One female letter writer to St. Nicholas noted a divided playground. (‘‘The cherry-trees are on our side, and I like it the best.’’) At Alice Blackwell’s neighborhood grammar school, girls and boys used different staircases (with demerits administered to violators). Jessie Wendover’s grammar school teacher ‘‘sent the girls down in the court to eat their dinner and gave the boys permission to talk and eat for twenty minutes.’’ The same kinds of arrangements in secondary schools allowed for separate girls’ and boys’ floors. 

In the early days of Bridgton Academy in North Bridgton, Maine—and surely in many other schools as well—boys and girls sat on opposite sides of the room. Even where girls and boys intermingled freely in the classroom, though, they tended to be segregated in the free parts of the school day. The British observer Sara Burstall, who came to the United States in the 1890s to investigate the American education of girls, observed ‘‘no difference’’ between boys’ and girls’ conduct and freedom in the classroom.

But she noted, ‘‘out of class there seemed to be very little general intercourse—girls speaking to girls, and boys to boys. At recess the sexes are generally separated, the boys occupying the basement, and the girls the upper part of the buildings.’’ The Somerville, Massachusetts, student newspaper, observed, probably caustically, ‘‘We think that rail between the boys’ and girls’ side of the lunch room is quite an institution.’’ 

Where there were no such administrative separations, girls and boys often segregated themselves and participated in separate activities. Ellen Emerson loved the extraordinary Sanborn School, which she attended following Agassiz School in the late 1850s, in part because ‘‘boys and girls go together which I think is essential to a good school.’’ However, she went on, ‘‘They do not play together. I don’t think that could be done in this generation, but it will in the next, but the girls have at least the recreation of seeing the boys play, and it is a great one.’’ 

This wistful vision of girls watching boys play, sometimes football, sometimes leapfrog, suggests the distances which separated boys and girls even in this progressive midcentury private school run by the radical abolitionist Franklin Sanborn. And as Burstall reported, such separation did not end in the next generation. When a male classmate died in Jessie Wendover’s school in 1885, girls and boys separately sent flowers, the girls ‘‘in the form of a pillow,’’ the boys, ‘‘a broken pillar of flowers.’’ 

The same sense of distance between girls and boys was evident in Margaret Tileston’s discussion of interactions between the girls and boys in Salem High School, which still maintained separate classes for boys and girls. Tileston had several brothers, but within the context of her school experience, boys existed in Margaret Tileston’s diary (and in her view of the universe) as alien creatures. She noted a rare encounter that spring: ‘‘A boy sat in the room finishing his examination while we had our French. The girls stared at him as he came in as if he had been some strange animal.’’ Initially, even in coeducational schools, much divided girls and boys, who approached each other warily. In completely coeducational schools, the tone changed, though some divisions between the boys and girls seemed to hold up. 

A boy’s description of corridor life in the Brookline, Massachusetts, Sagamore in 1896 noted an innovation in their new school building: ‘‘a roomy, pleasant, well-lighted gathering-place, where the whole school may meet on equal terms at recess.’’ The scene was raucous. The writer turned ‘‘his head just in time to escape a flying waste-basket, used as a foot-ball by some would-be members of next year’s team.’’ Boys with buns in their mouths and cups of chocolate in their hands from the lunch counter were playing leap-frog. 

A curtain was lifted at the end of the hall, and a girls’ calisthenics class in ‘‘dainty slippered feet and bloomers’’ ran ‘‘the gauntlet, one after another, not altogether unwillingly,’’ the author concluded, encouraged by boys’ cheers. There was clearly a ‘‘boys’ side’’ and a ‘‘girls’ side.’’ ‘‘Teachers and girls, all eating their lunch and all talking at once, occupy the settees along the wall.’’ There was some fraternizing. ‘‘Several gallant fellows were entertaining groups of girls,’’ the author noted. But it took ‘‘gallantry’’ for boys to cross the line to the girls’ side, so clear, still, was the gender divide.

In fact, gender relations in the Victorian high school often crossed a highly charged field separating two opposing camps. Although a Victorian chivalry might govern official relations between ‘‘the young ladies’’ and other scholars, the open columns of school newspapers, bearing such titles as ‘‘Shavings’’ and ‘‘Scintillations,’’ allowed for ample sparring in an ongoing battle of the sexes. The intensity of that sparring suggests the extent to which coeducational high schools by their nature ended by challenging orthodoxies. Insults appeared in the earliest journals. The handwritten Winchester, Massachusetts, High School Offering of 1861, issued by two female editors, asked, ‘‘Why are the young gentlemen of this school like vessels plying between Boston and New York?’’ The answer: ‘‘Because they are coasters.’’ 

In 1879 the High School News of Great Falls, New Hampshire, published in two sections, with a ‘‘Supplement’’ from ‘‘The Young Ladies’ Department.’’ As befit their divided school and polarized presentation, the two sides found their best copy in each other. In their fifth issue in May 1879, ‘‘Vox Puellarum’’ (the voice of the girls) rallied her readers: ‘‘Girls, here it is again, a fling at us! can’t we retaliate? I propose ‘diamond cut diamond’ with such editors as ours!’’ 

Previously, she implied, the boys had made some cracks about the weaknesses of young ladies’ ‘‘anatomical construction.’’ ‘‘The following month . . . we present to them a Hero; again they retort with ‘Our Model Girl’ as if we (the H.S. girls) thought of nothing but promenades and spring styles.’’ Although the boys signed their pieces, such daring talk from young ladies required a pseudonym, and was signed with one. It was not until the 1890s that girls’ full and correct names accompanied their pieces. 

Behind the reciprocal digs were some truths. Discipline fell most strenuously on male heads. (‘‘Poor young ladies! Too insignificant to be noticed!’’ commented one columnist on the apparent immunity of girls from punishment.) And boys often had to answer for girls’ relative accomplishments. An 1883 letter from a ‘‘former classmate’’ to the male editor of the Concord, New Hampshire, Comet observed, ‘‘Your success seems to be due in a great part to the literary ability of the fairer sex.’’ The letter writer went on: ‘‘It seems to be a peculiar fact . . . that women are born to rule, and, as in this case, to be among the first to start a paper which is open to the general criticism of the people.’’ The result was that some parries had undeniably violent subtexts. 

In 1884, the year after the Comet editor heard of the accomplishments of ‘‘the fairer sex,’’ his successor ran an exchange item. Untitled, it was a first-person poem about the modern schoolgirl. The Comet ran it on the back page as filler. It bragged about schoolgirls’ appearance as ‘‘the handsomest girls of our race/ Superb in form and of exquisite face,’’ who ‘‘dress with perfect, consummate grace.’’ It then referred to their accomplishments, suggesting a critical lack: We know many tongues of living and dead,/In science and fiction we’re very well read:/But we cannot cook meat and cannot make bread,/And we’ve wished many times that we were all dead.

This verse took the common form of the assault on the New Woman, an attack on her lack of domestic accomplishments, managing to avoid fictive murder only by putting the action in the first person and arranging instead for a suicide wish. The compliment was returned in a poem published by the Comet’s successor, the Volunteer, in 1887. Under the title ‘‘Boys! Don’t Read This!’’ came an attack on the cigarette-smoking dandy. 

Appealing to the nonreading boy with its sensational title, the poet asked To you who smoke the cigarette (I wonder if you’ve thought it)/Who made this little cigarette?/You only know you bought it./Perhaps some dark Italian,/Or Jew from foreign land,/Rolled up that little cigarette/With greasy, dirty hand. This nativist jab from the hinterlands on the new immigrant workforce was not the point of the poem, however, but only the vehicle to its ultimate pronouncement. But if boys will smoke cigarettes/Although the smoke may choke them,/One consolation still remains—/They kill the boys that smoke them.

Seeping through Victorian niceties, these death wishes illuminate only the obvious: that the gender challenges occurring in the nineteenth-century high school did not come without unleashing considerable unease as well as possibility. To understand the dynamics of this change, it makes sense to trace the action in a number of arenas. As we have seen, girls dominated the academic rankings in most high schools. 

They made slower inroads in extracurricular activities, especially in the important male-gendered activities, debate, athletics, and military drill. The awarding of direct political power, in the election of class officers, remained surprisingly uncontested, with boys seemingly the only possibility for class president. The more substantial role of girls in student newspapers, however, was particularly important by virtue of the power this bestowed to influence school opinion.”

- Jane H. Hunter, “High School Culture: Gender and Generation.” in How Young Ladies Became Girls: The Victorian Origins of American Girlhood

[tsvestidiabolus]

It’s that time again, fellas.  A new chapter of memento vitae, my Yamato/Robin multichap fic is out!

summary: Robin joins the Beast Pirates. This wasn't by choice.  AU, Yamato/Robin endgame.

if you would like to read it on tumblr, the whole chapter is under the cut!  Please considering reblogging and supporting my Romato agenda.

At one point Robin would have given up everything to be out in the ocean, and now all she wanted to do was to return home.  Of course, this was no longer an option, so the only alternative she could consider was to drown herself, and that didn’t sound pleasant either.  In the end she was forced to live, and that was the greatest punishment the world could give her.

Having travelled almost four weeks with King - a name she couldn’t tell if he deserved or not - Robin was beginning to grow bored with each passing day.  Not that she particularly minded that, for it was a far better alternative to whatever King had in store for her.  But still, the anticipation was almost killing her, and the jeers and sneers from his crew didn’t help.  It was like they knew that something was to happen to her, and the fact that she didn’t know frustrated her to no end. 

Sometimes, on rare occasions, King would visit her.  He would never speak a word, merely stare, and she would never speak a word, looking straight back at him.  She didn’t know what he was thinking or doing in those little stare-contests of theirs.  She wondered if he thought of a hundred ways to kill her, as she did him.  Whatever the case may be, she was winning.  Two wins to her, one win to King.  Spending hours and sometimes days awake did wonders to help for her to stop blinking.

Most humiliating was when, during the times where she was allowed to eat, the pirates would taunt her.  It always came down to them either placing the plate of food just out of reach, or not bothering to unlock her arms from her cuffs.  They could easily have done so; the cuffs were clamped tightly around her ankles too, but apparently it was more enjoyable for them to watch her struggle to eat with just her mouth, like a dog.  The pirates had laughed and mocked her, throwing as many obscene words her way as possible.  Robin ignored them, for the most part.  She’d rather live in humiliation than die for their satisfaction.  

Still, that didn’t mean she could forget any of their faces.

Robin spent her time counting her teeth, when she wasn’t trying to catch a glimpse of outside her cell.  Not that the view really told her much about where she was, but the smell of sea salt and fresh air was certainly more favourable than the stench of burning leather that lingered in her cell after King’s visits.  If she were adept at navigation, she could probably tell where she was from smell alone.  She wasn’t, though, and being able to tell where you were from scent alone seemed like a pretty useless ability outside of mere curiosity.

On what could have been the eve of the fourth week, Robin was greeted by King once more.  Though, this time he seemed impatient.  Irritated.  The flame on the back of his neck was crackling violently, to the point where Robin was afraid it might set the room on fire.  It didn’t, though.  Unfortunately.

“Change of plans,” he said. “We’re taking a detour.”

Robin looked up to him, knitting her brows together. “A detour from where?” she asked.  Just as a casual reminder that he still hadn’t told her where they were going.

King ignored the question, of course. “You will be removed from this confinement shortly.  I thought you’d be happy about that.”

“Ecstatic.” 

“Don’t talk back to me,” King snapped.

The inferno flared up for a moment before dying down to a gentle blaze.  She found her eyes drawn to it once more, taking in the wintry wrath of a man who lived by fire.  This was not someone to trifle with - she couldn’t take the same chances with him as she could with the other, hot-headed pirates.  He would not kill her, but a sense of dread followed him, like the calm before a disaster.  Robin told herself she wasn’t scared of pain anymore.  Robin was a very good liar.

She swallowed.  Perhaps it was best to do as he said for now.

“I trust you know what will happen if you try to escape,” King continued. “We may need you alive, but that doesn’t mean we need all of you.”  

His gaze travelled over to her wrists hanging loosely above her head with an almost ravenous stare.  Suddenly Robin felt the need to hide her arms from him.  The implication didn’t sit very well with her, and her arms were her most useful asset besides her mind.  To take them away would be to take away her very will to fight.  But she couldn’t hide them, as they lay bare for King to see, and she had the chilling sensation that he was slicing them up in his mind.

Although much of his face was hidden behind that abhorrent leather mask, Robin had the feeling he was smiling at that moment with what could only be called sadism. 

“I trust I have your full cooperation?” King asked - the first question he had ever uttered in the four weeks.  

What choice did she even have?

“Yes,” she answered, head hung low.  

“Good.” King left the prison, letting her linger in the stench of ash and burnt leather.  

It took less than a day for Robin to find out what exactly King meant by a ‘detour’.  Detours, as it turned out, meant battle.  She was taken, still cuffed in seastone, to a room far below the deck, only able to catch a glimpse of the sun and a faint outline of an island they were approaching.  The pirate escorting her said something about how she should be grateful they were offering her so much protection.  Robin imagined shoving her fist down his throat.

The pirate shoved her roughly into the new prison - not so much a cell as before, but actual sleeping quarters now.  A single king bed laid in the corner of the room, the walls covered in ornaments and spoils of war.  The walls were painted black half-hazardly - but on closer inspection, they were not painted, they were burned.   She was in the berth of the ship, and whoever this room belonged to - she had a pretty good idea - was someone of importance here.

Just as the pirate began to say, “Now listen here,” the whole room - no, the ship itself - rocked, and the two were thrown against a wall violently.  

Cursing profanities, the pirate was the first to recover, rubbing the back of his head. “It’s started already?”

“What’s started?” Robin asked from the floor, unable to stand up. “What’s going on?”

“Shit.  Shit, shit, shit.” The pirate stomped his foot with every word.  His skin was pale, and his eyes were wide, and sweat dripped down the back of his neck.  For someone who was reacting like a petulant child, he was keeping his balance quiet well despite the tremors and shaking the ship was experiencing.  Unlike Robin, who was already weakened by the seastone cuffs. 

The pirate locked the door, her only exit out of the room, and shoved the keys in his pocket.  Robin briefly wondered if the keys to her cuffs were in the ring - a thought that was swiftly replaced by a blinding white pain.  Her head was turned to the side, and she tasted iron in her mouth.

“Don’t you even think about it,” the pirate snarled from above her.  He patted his pocket.  If he didn’t look so frightened by whatever was outside, Robin would be intimidated. “We’re just making sure you’re not seen by anyone.”

Robin struggled to sit up, leaning against the wall.  The pirate seemed to enjoy watching her suffer and humiliated, the one thing giving him satisfaction during this clearly troubling time.  Finally, she could sit up somewhat properly, her hands tied behind her back and blood dripping from her nose - broken. 

She glared up at him.

“Whatever’s outside is enough to warrant King moving me from my prison,” she said. “If it’s a Marine or Government ship - which I doubt, as King knew beforehand that I would have to be moved, and the only way I can see them being an issue is if they caught you by surprise - then I wouldn’t have to be worried, and you wouldn’t have to be worried.  If it were an enemy pirate ship, the only reason you would be scared this much is if they were considerably more dangerous than you are -”

“SHUT UP!”

“- so I can only assume it’s a pirate ship out there, and, if they know who I am, then they must know of my abilities,” she continued. “The reason I’m here is because you can’t risk losing me.”

From the moment the pirate’s hand twitched and she felt the impact against her temple, she knew she was right.  Such a visceral reaction wouldn’t have happened otherwise.  

Feeling a sort of satisfaction along with the throbbing pain in her head, Robin’s eyes travelled from the pirate to the door.  The trembling and rumbling continued, along with screams, yells, gunshots and cannonfire.  It was pure and utter chaos outside, that much she could tell.  But still, if there was the slightest chance she could be removed from King’s prison, and run away freely…

“HELP!” Robin howled. “PLEASE, ANYONE!”

Her voice hurt from not being used, but that didn’t stop her from screaming her lungs out.  A little humiliating, true, but anything, anything was better than staying with these pirates for any longer.  

The pirate swore and lunged forward - Robin ducked underneath his reach.  He banged his head against the wall, groaning in pain while Robin lifted herself, struggling heavily, to her feet.  Without another word, she ran for the door and slammed against it with her shoulder.

“I’M IN HERE!” 

The door didn’t budge. In fact, she barely made a dent on it.  What was worse, the pirate was now recovered and glowering at her.  With a raging cry, he ran forward again like a bull, and tackled her to the ground. 

Snap.

Robin did not make a sound, but the Beast did.  A small gasp escaped his lips and he jumped back off her, the weight gone from her arm.  That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt though.  Internally she screamed, oh how she screamed, but externally she merely tried to get up onto her feet once more, determined to throw her body against the door again.  

The pirate snatched her arm before she could begin running again.  She winced at the sudden pain jolting up her body, grinding her teeth to stop herself from screaming.  

“King’s gonna fucking kill me,” the pirate groaned as he pulled her back from the door. “We’re not supposed to hurt you -”

Robin bit him.

He kicked her shins.

It was a mutual relationship they had.

She didn’t know how long they scuffled for, her only weapon being her teeth while he retaliated and made her bruise in return.  All the while the ship trembled and rocked dangerously, causing the pair of them to stumble and fall every-so-often.  Their fight was only halted when the door suddenly slammed open - not opened by unlocking it, but by sheer force.

The relief on Robin’s face was bright, and her smile lit up for the first time in months.  This was it, her saviour had come.  She could finally rest easy and escape this place.

“ZEHAHAHA!”

For some reason, the laugh sent chills down her spine, and she didn’t know why.  In her vision stood a hulking mass of a man, the stench of alcohol and smoke and blood wafting from his direction.  She would have gagged, had she not been so desperate to leave at that moment.  The new pirate grinned down at her with hunger, half of his teeth missing.  Robin looked up to him with pleading eyes.

“Didn’t know King was into that!” the stranger said, amusement clear in his voice.  Whipping out a pistol in his hand, he shot the Beast dead and leaned towards her, leering. “Little girls ain’t my thing, but who am I to judge him?”

His grubby hands grasped her throat, lifting her up off the ground.  She choked and struggled against his hold to no avail - he was simply too strong for her, especially in her weakened state.  

“Now, now, why do ya look so familiar?” He tilted his head, bringing Robin closer to him.  The pong of his breath was overwhelming now.  It took all of her energy not to throw up. “Ah!  I know!”  

He leered at her, and Robin felt her heart sink.

“Nice ta finally meetcha, Devil’s Child!  ZEHAHAHA!”

---

Marco prided himself on being one of Pop’s commanders.  It was the greatest honour one could have onboard the Moby Dick - no, in the seas.  Not only was he trusted enough to be a commander in one of the Emperor’s ships, but he was deemed important enough by the Government to have almost a billion berries on his head.  He was flattered, honestly.  But in his mind, he - and everyone else onboard the Moby Dick - were priceless.

Unfortunately, it was not the Government who were so desperately fighting for their lives against him in that moment, nor were it the Marines.  No, it was a rival pirate crew.  How incredibly dull.  At least, that was Marco’s first reaction.

Then he spied the flag that the enemy ship sailed, and heard Whitebeard’s distinct “GURARARA!” from behind him, and excitement ran up his blood like a shot of electricity.  

Kaido’s crew.

Marco grinned from ear to ear, his brows narrowed down to a look of pure hunger for battle.  He squatted on the railing of the Moby Dick, blue flaming wings flickering behind him.  The rest of the crew readied themselves, armed with whatever weapons or powers they could use.  And Whitebeard sat proudly behind them all, grasping Murakumogiri in his hand.  They were all ready for a challenge.

More importantly, they were ready for revenge.  They’d heard what happened to Oden, and while they weren’t willing to attack Wano in the case that one of their own would be hurt or worse, Kaido was not enough of a fool to declare war on Whitebeard for attacking one of his ships in neutral territory.

“You’d better have some grog on you, brats!” Pops declared. “My kids are hungry!”

The Whitebeard Pirates cheered and cried out a war cry.  

On the other ship, there was silence.  Not a single word uttered, despite them seeing a crowd of Beast Pirates on the deck.  Then, Marco felt a thumping in his chest, a vibration in his very bones.  A distant BOOM, BOOM, BOOM  that reverberated throughout the ocean, but not a sound that was cannonfire - no, this was… bizarre.  This was something that he couldn’t explain.  This was…

Funk.

The rhythm pounded against their skin, making even the ocean ripple and waves crash against both their ships.  An island nearby was hearing the full burst of funk, seagulls soaring from the tops of trees with a unified screech - a sound that could not be heard over the blaring music.  Marco did not feel scared, certainly, but there was an air of confusion around the Whitebeard Pirates.  He glanced back to look at Pops.  Whitebeard looked unimpressed.

Shrugging, Marco turned his attention back to the Beasts’ ship.  This certainly wasn’t Kaido onboard, by any means - he wouldn’t be so theatrical.  So vain.  Whoever was onboard the ship, whichever poor soul had encountered an Emperor, was relishing in this moment.

The enemy ship rocked from side to side, not enough to tip the whole thing over, but enough to cause the pirates to almost lose their balance.  Marco stood up from his perch.  He was curious about what sort of pirate was making such a noise.

“I’ve got a plague, and that plague is funkin’!”

Some of the Beasts dispersed, creating a path along the deck.

“It excites me to my core, I’mma chunking!”

Finally, the pirate came into view - a man Marco had never seen before.  He was a massive, round-figured man, one that danced to the beat of the music.  His body jiggled with every move he made in an almost hypnotizing fashion, the blond braid at the back of his head bouncing up and down.  He entered the scene with flair, with vanity, and with so much theatricality that Marco thought he was overcompensating for something.

“LET ME HEAR YOU SAY IT! ONE, TWO…!”

Not a word was spoken amongst the Beasts, nor the Whitebeard Pirates.  Marco could practically sense Pops growing impatient with every second that passed.  It seemed he wasn’t the only impatient one.

The round man whipped his whole body around to face his crew and roared, “YOU USELESS MAGGOTS!  CAN’T YOU GET THIS SIMPLE SHIT RIGHT?”, before throwing a nearby barrel at them.  Most of the crew ran away before it could hit them, save for a large boy with pigtails, who felt the full force of the impact.  The poor boy was holding a transponder snail in his hand, and didn’t see it coming.

Marco just decided that he didn’t like this man very much.

Evidently, Whitebeard didn’t either.  The old man slammed his naginata down, shockwaves reverberating around them as he unleashed his haki. “Who the hell are you, brat?” He didn’t have to raise his voice to a shout to be heard over the thumping music.

The said music stopped, and the round man turned to stare at Whitebeard.  A moment of silence passed between the two ships.

“HOLY SHIT?  WHITEBEARD?” the man screeched, his jaw dropping.  He began to sweat bullets. “YOU DIDN’T SAY HE WAS HERE!”

One of the Beasts said something incoherent in the man’s ear.  That seemed to calm him down somewhat, as he turned back to the Whitebeard Pirates.

“UNFORTUNATELY FOR YOU, I DON’T HAVE ANY GROG ON ME!” he declared. “BUT I GOT SOMETHING THAT’LL SEND CHILLS UP YOUR SPINE!  LISTEN UP, I’M QUEEN!  AND I GOT SOMETHING THAT’LL BLOW YOUR MIND!”

He raised his arm and lowered it quickly.  Then, everything happened at once.  All the cannons on their ship exploded with a BOOM, the cannonfire approaching their ship at a rapid pace.  Marco and the others were able to knock most of the balls into the ocean, but some hit the Moby Dick - barely scratching it, of course.  But it seemed that didn’t help the Whitebeard Pirates at all.

After a moment passed, smoke began erupting from the balls.  Purple smoke.

Marco swore.  Poison gas.

He screamed at as many as he could to cover their mouths and to get inside - he would be alright, with his powers, but what about the rest of them?  Jumping up from the railing, he covered the old man and his brothers in his flames in an effort to protect them from the gas.  

In a manner of moments, the worst of the fog lifted, but by then it was too late.  Half the crew was choking and writhing around the floor.  But that wasn’t the worst of it.  The Beasts had, in that time, sailed to them, and grappled at the Moby Dick with their own galleon.  Pirates were climbing up ropes, weapons in hands, and prepared to battle.

The fight had begun.

[holyfuckthisfishcandrive]

Professors and Shortbread

First, Previous (Chap. 18), Ao3

Word count: 2186

Warnings: smoking, swearing, bones (talked about)

Roman woke up to someone violently shaking him.

"Wake up," Remus hissed. "Wake up, wake up, wake up, asshole!"

"What is it?" Roman grumbled, trying to shake Remus' hand off. "Fuck, Remus, it's like three am! We have school tomorrow, you fucking dick."

"Roman, I just realized something! Stop hitting me, this is important!"

Roman groaned and finally sat up.

"What is so important that you have to wake me up at three am on a school night?"

"It's more like four am, but that's beside the point," Remus waved off. "I just realized that Professor Logic is really fucking stupid."

Roman blinked at him exasperatedly.

"Okay," he said after a moment. "Mind if I go back to sleep now?"

"No, this is important! When I called him Mr Logic he complained, saying that he didn't go to school for years to get called Mister. If that's true that would mean that he's actually a Professor!" Remus whisper yelled.

Roman glanced from one side to the other than back to Remus.

"Yeah?"

"There can't be that many Professors in this city right? Especially not that many young, male, tall ones!"

Finally, it dawned on Roman what Remus was saying.

"So... we can try to find out his civilian identity," he mumbled and a wide grin spread over Remus' face.

"Exactly!"

---

Usually, Roman stuck around after rehearsal for a little while, chatted with the other members of the drama club or helped out with something while Remus goofed around with his friends in the club but on this Wednesday he and Remus grabbed their bags as soon as the bell rung and were the first ones out of the door.

They all but ran out all the way back home, almost getting hit by a taxi and earning a few looks and glares on the way.

The elevator ride was way too long in Roman's opinion.

They dropped their bags in their rooms,  Remus got the list he had created of all Professors whose addresses he could find in the phone book or on the internet and Roman put on his 'good kid' mask to ask Ma for a little money, pretending that it was just for him. She gave him a fifty-dollar bill. The money was for the subway and a quick lunch on the go and Roman was pretty sure that it was way more than they would need but better safe than sorry. He wasn't sure how much fast food would cost.

And just a few minutes after they had come home they were already on their way out again.

Most Professors lived downtown or at least near downtown so they first took a train downtown and went to a small Chinese place for lunch (which was a lot cheaper than Roman had expected).

Remus pulled out a map and they began marking down the addresses to see which route would be the best. Roman doubted they could check out all of them in one day but they would do their best  either way.

33 Professors was a lot for one city but Remus guessed it made sense since apparently here in downtown housing was cheap and the university was very close.

The first name on their list was Professor Jacobs.

They sauntered through the streets, using their map as a guide.

The house they ended up in front of was a trashy apartment building with at least five notes at the doorbell signs saying that the bells didn't work.

Roman pressed the Professors bell and turned to Remus.

"I'll do the talking, okay? Cause if we do find Logic I don't want you blurting out the actual we're here."

Remus rolled his eyes. "Fine, fine. Sorry, I'm honest."

He didn't really mean it, well aware of how many times he had gotten on trouble for blurting out the truth without thinking.

The door buzzed and the pushed it open.

"Who's there?" an old-sounding voice called and as he looked up through the stairs Remus spotted a man that looked like one of those fivehundred-year-old turtles trying to look down.

"We have the pizza you ordered," Roman called back.

"I didn't order any pizza!"

"Are you sure- Oh, my mistake, sir! I misread the name! I'm terribly sorry, have a nice day!" Roman did his typical Prince Charming smile even though the man couldn't see - It was simply part of the performance - and pushed Remus back out of the door. As soon as it fell shut the smile fell again.

"If that was Logic I'm eating Ma's hats," Remus said.

Roman snorted and Remus' grin widened at the real smile on his brother's face. They were too rare.

"Okay, who's next on the list?" Roman said and Remus crossed Professor Jacobs off.

The next door they rang at was opened by a young woman named Professor Jain who looked like the living embodiment of the muddle-headed professor cliche. Roman asked which apartment someone they had seen on the bell sign an L. Williams lived in, claiming they had found their purse and awkwardly thanked her when she didn't know. Remus glanced at the door across from Prof Jain's that clearly said Williams and tried not to laugh out loud.

They visited Professor Davis and Professor Brown, Professor Price and Morgan and Professor Underweather.

Too old, too fat, too much boob, too brown, too short.

It was around seven pm now and they had had seven flukes which somehow was both too much (because why couldn't they just fucking find that asshole? Remus lit a cigarette in frustration) and too little (because how could they only have stopped by seven people so far? It was already getting too late, goddammit).

"Let's do one more and then go home," Roman yawned.

"So whose last for today?" Remus asked glancing at the list Roman was currently holding.

"Some Professor Youngblood. About as weird a name as Underweather. Good news: it's just a block away."

They walked down the street and Remus watched the smoke from his cig curl and fade into the evening sky. A few times he tried to make rings but he still couldn't figure out how to. Maybe that was just a cartoon thing though he could have sworn to have seen it in live-action movies too. Were there YouTube tutorials on this kind of stuff?

"Here it is," Roman said and Remus blinked back to reality.

They stood in front of a simple townhouse. The most notable thing was the flower bouquet visible in one of the windows that looked like something Patton would make.

"Let's give it a shot," Remus said dropped his cig and extinguished it with his shoe.

They walked up the three steps to the front door and Roman rung the doorbell. It was only one with two names. Youngblood and Youngblood-Smith.

Probably a marriage, Remus thought with distaste and prepared himself for some old dick to open up.

The door swung open and to Remus' surprise, it was a teenager probably even younger than them who leaned against the doorframe and glared at them. His eyeliner was sharper and neater than Remus would be able to make it in a thousand years and his lips were painted in a nice shade of dark purple. Maybe Remus should ask him what brand it was. It looked awesome.

"What do you want?" the boy asked with a scowl.

Remus waited for Roman to answer with some kind of excuse or something.

Roman remained silent.

The boy's glare became darker with every passing moment.

At this rate, he probably wouldn't tell Remus what lipstick he was using.

Annoyed Remus glanced over at Roman to see what the fuck was keeping him from saying anything.

The look on Roman's face almost made him gag.

Roman stared at the boy in front of them like he was the most incredible thing in the world. Like he had put the stars in the sky or was made from pure moonlight or some stupid shit like that. He stared at him as he stared into the air when he had some stupid crush or played some lovestruck idiot. He stared like he was going to start waxing poetry at any second now.

Remus doubted he had even heard the boy speak at all.

So he would have to take the situation into his own hands.

"You don't happen to be Professor Youngblood, do you?" Remus asked.

The boy raised an eyebrow.

"Do I look like I'm a fucking Professor? I'm his son, dumbass."

"Is he home?"

"No, not at the moment. What do you want from him?"

The he/him pronouns were a good sign so far and Remus couldn't imagine this guy's dad to be a Doderer. The British accent, on the other hand, wasn't a good sign but Logic could probably cover his accent or something if he really wanted to.

Roman also seemed to finally be back on earth and not on cloud nine.

"We're students of his and we have a question about this homework he gave us," he lied before Remus could say anything.

"You are?" the boy raised his other eyebrow.

"Yes, we are. Do you happen to know if he'll be back soon?"

"Not sure," the boy shrugged. "If it's that important you can come in and wait though. I could also offer you some black tea."

"Really? Yeah, er that would be awe- I mean, that would be nice!" Roman agreed.

"What are your names?" the boy asked as he led them inside. He walked past a door that probably went down to a basement and a staircase up into a small living room.

"I'm Roman," Roman said with a small bow - Jesus fucking Christ was he going fucking insane over this guy?

"And I'm Remus. I'm the good-looking twin, obviously."

The Professor's son chuckled, hiding his mouth behind his hand. "Obviously."

"And what's your name?" Roman sounded like he was asking for a precious gift rather than a fucking name.

"It's Virgil. Do you take milk and sugar in your tea?"

"Milk in tea?" Roman asked confused.

"Yeah, sure!" Remus agreed. Maybe the milk would flake as it did in juice.

Virgil came back with two cups and poured them, giving Roman a little bit of milk anyway, saying that it would be way too strong otherwise and he couldn't allow Roman to drink it pure but somehow Roman didn't complain when Virgil stood over him to pour it in. God, he was being fucking gross and sappy.

Virgil picked up his own cup again and offered them some weird cookies he called shortbread even though they didn't taste like bread at all.

Remus dumped two in his tea - which sadly hadn't flaked - and mushed them around with his spoon.

For a few minutes, it was quiet until Remus got bored with the steady clicking of the clock hanging on the wall behind him.

"So, do you like bones?" he blurted out the first question that came to mind.

Roman looked at him with barely concealed horror but Virgil's dark expression lightened up slightly to both of the twins' surprise.

"I do. It's fun to find them and clean them. I have a few in a cupboard in my room I've found in subways and other places over the years."

"Really?" Remus lit up excitedly. "I collect them too! My favourite is a   near-complete snake skeleton with a rat skull stuck inside!"

"Wow! That sounds so cool!" Virgil didn't quite smile but he wasn't scowling anymore either. "I once found a dog jaw in a quite good conditiion. And I have this really nice possum skull."

"Ooh! Can I see them?" Remus asked bouncing slightly in his seat.

"Sure. Wait here, I'll go get them," Virgil stood up and left the room. Remus could hear him walk upstairs.

"He seems nice," he commented.

"He's beautiful," Roman sighed dreamily.

"Yuck."

"You get to rant about sexy people to me, I get to talk about crushes, that's the deal," Roman reminded him.

Remus rolled his eyes. "Fine, sure. But don't be too gross about it."

They heard Virgil come back downstairs.

He showed Remus the bones and gave him some tips when Remus asked how he had gotten them so clean.

"Oh, jeez it's almost eight. We should probably get going," Roman said after a while. "Maybe we'll get to talk to the Professor some other time."

Virgil seemed to study his face for a few moments.

"Yeah, maybe," he finally said and accompanied them to the door.

"Can I have your number?" Remus asked  holding out his phone. "Then I can send you some pics of my bones and stuff!"

"Sure," Virgil took it and typed something in. "Maybe we'll get the chance to talk again sometime."

The door closed behind them and Roman swirled around to face Remus.

"You got his number?!"

"Yeah, duh."

"That's not fair! Why did he give you his number and not me!"

"Well, I didn't drool over him," Remus shrugged.

Roman pouted the entire way to the train station.

Next

Taglist:

@patton-cake

[trekkie-in-space]

KakagaiWeek2020 - Day 4 - Lost & Found P1

Author : JackB

Title : How beast are born.

Rating : General Audience.

Words : 1752

Resume :  During a mission Gai is acting off, his behavior is nothing like Kakashi ever seen. It’s distressing. How can he bring Gai’s back ?

Tag : drdp, derealisation, depersonalization, dissociation, Kakashi’s trauma come to say hello, but this IS a Gai-centric fic, pre-slash but still very Kakagai, anbu kakashi era, the characters have no idea what’s going on, It’s not like Konoha have much if any psychological health/trauma center.

Note : This is based on accurate but specific drdp experience, it can’t reflect all drdp experience, if anybody want more detail on what’s actually going on with Gai you can ask me ^^

THIS IS PART ONE, PART TWO IS HERE

- Lost -

Kakashi had heard about it. A few years back, Gai’s team was celebrating their overly successful last mission. Apparently they had done exploit there, to the point Gai had been given a nickname by the shinobi they had fought, ‘The Beast’. It’s not so often one gets a nickname on the field, curiosity had led the discussion at the table, between food and drinks, all wondered what had happened to lead to such a nickname. They kept coming up with theories, all crazier or more ridiculous than the last, and Kakashi might have been the only one noticing Ebisu taking his distance to the current conversation.

“Well, he didn’t steal the nickname.” He had mumbled in his glass, nobody had heard but him and Genma, at his side, who approved the affirmation with a nod. There was a certain gravity in their expressions. This was more serious than it looked like.

Gai had embraced the nickname, made it his and Kakashi never pushed to know the reason it had been given in the first place, assuming without truly knowing. Gai was competent and a specialist, this simple combination was the most likely to result in a nickname if you found yourself at the right place at the right time. But he could see now, what was behind this nickname, what birthed it.

He wishes he hadn’t found out.

This obstinacy is not like he has ever seen in Gai before, it’s more than completing the mission, this is a hunt. An instinct who has reached its peak and isn’t going down soon. Inexhaustible, relentless and terrifying.

He and Genma can barely keep up the pace with him, if even at all. All they can do is follow the scream or the smell of freshly spilled blood. Gai is pushy on their enemy, never leaving an opening unanswered. There’s no frivolous act, each hit is precise and every movement is efficient.

His enemies are no more than dummies to him. It’s a flawless fight and Kakashi find it distressing. Gai has always been efficient and competent during battles, but never to this extreme. There is a tension in his guts, telling him to never find himself at the end of Gai’s fist when he is in this state. It rare someone can urge such a sensation in him by now, even more when this someone is on his side.

“Gai ! Wait for us.” He screams but Gai doesn’t seem to hear him, if he did, he certainly didn’t pay attention to him, disappearing behind trees like he is part of the forest.

Genma give him a sign to stop and they both land on a tree branch. He is shaking his head.

“Don’t.”

“What’s up with him ?” He asks.

“Oh.. uh. He gets like that. Sometime.” Genma pass his hand on the back of his neck and give Kakashi a crisped smile.

“It happens often ?”

“No. Don’t worry, it’s fine just.. Don’t get in his way.” Kakashi is not sure what it’s supposed to mean.

“He could get seriously hurt if he continues like that.”

“He won’t.”

“How can you be so sure ?”

“Because when he is like that, he doesn’t really get hurt, nobody really has the time to.” Kakashi frown. “I mean.. You saw it.”

Genma is not wrong, Gai is way too fast, but there’s always a risk.

“We should join him, we are close from our goal and he must be waiting for us.”

“I doubt he would have awaited.”

“He did.” Genma is about to start jumping from their tree again but he stops, adding. “Don’t be surprised if he is not.. As talkative as usual. He listens, even if it looks like he doesn’t.”

Kakashi feels like Genma is talking about someone else, this doesn’t sound like Gai at all. It takes them a few minutes, where they pass beside some unconscious or maybe even dead enemies, to reach Gai. They land at his side, Gai doesn’t acknowledge them though, looking over the Iwa research center they have to securize. This center was supposed to be low danger, with a near dormant activity due to a low staffed crew. Their mission was to make prisoners and secure the site until the recovery team comes to retrieve the research that were made here. But their information had been wrong, apparently Iwa had decided to revive this center and give it a strong protection. Their little team had been completely outnumbered.

Which, thanks to Gai, hadn’t been too much of a problem. They were still used from the previous combat though, and the lack of proper information made it far more dangerous. What could await them in that research center could be more than what the three of us could take.

“Gai, this was irresponsible, you could have been hurt or put the whole mission in danger.” Kakashi scold but doesn’t get a single reaction. Not a word, not even a movement. More than his worry for the safety of the mission, Kakashi start to really worry about Gai. He reaches for him, hoping for a reaction. “‘You oka.. ”

“No touching !” Genma snap at him, but it’s too late.

His hand rest gently on Gai’s shoulder and the glare he throws at him in answer terrify Kakashi. It’s mean, violent but in a cold way. Kakashi feel like a prey to be crushed and he can’t help but to stare back, keeping still and quiet as if Gai is going to unleash on him in a second if he makes a wrong move. He was never afraid of Gai, and despite how strong Gai is, Kakashi still think in a serious fight he could take him and win. But right now he isn’t so sure. If anything he feels like a pup being put back in its place and he didn’t think, Gai could ever have such an aura. This is not Gai. Yet it is.

Gai frown at him, gauges him and Kakashi start to wonder if he even recognize him.

A clap of the hand from Genma make Gai’s focus redirect elsewhere. The tension relax and Kakashi gently remove his hand from his shoulder.

“What are you doing, don’t touch him, don’t stare at him.”

“What’s wrong with him ?” Genma move at his side so they can avoid talking between Gai and shrug.

“It’s like, some sort of hyperfocus.. I guess. But hm, a part of him just shut down completely to leave this.” He waves at Gai. “He disconnect from things, I’m not sure. All I know is that like that, there’s no stopping him, he probably won’t leave anybody for us to fight. We just have to follow and make sure we complete the mission.”

“Can he attack us ?”

“Never did, but don’t be in his range because he is most likely not going to avoid you.”

Gai is looking at them now, Genma catch a glimpse of him and immediately looks down and make sure to avoid staring. Kakashi, on the other hand, stare back.

His eyes are not as mean as before, but still hold this coldness, a distance far away from the warms Gai give away. There’s an energy to him, a frenzy that only ask to be let loose. But as he holds his glare, he catches a glimpse of vulnerability, confusion and distress. Kakashi jump at his other side and Gai follow him. To Kakashi, it feels like an animal. They keep staring at each other and Genma stare at them incredulously.

For a second, Kakashi think Gai is reaching out to him or at least tries to. He is not sure what to make of it. Genma seem confident in his teammate but he isn’t. He should probably call off the mission, but how is he going to justify it ?

“So the plan hasn’t changed ?” Genma asks.

“No, we enter, secure the site, we avoid killing the researcher as we are taking prisoners. Then we protect the area waiting for the recovery team. But to be honest I think we should call off the mission.”

“If it’s because of Gai, don’t, he won’t mess up.”

“He is clearly not fine, it’s too dangerous.. ”

“It’s fine.” Gai comment catch their attention immediately. “We can continue the mission.” His tone is a bit distant, disconnected.

“You’re sure ?”

Gai nod. They stare at each other, Kakashi doing his best to gauge Gai, why he can’t quite find the Gai he knows is a mystery. It’s him and at the same time it’s not. Kakashi hates it. Though, he seems fine enough to continue the mission. At least Kakashi hope.

A sound in a bush catch their attention, and Gai’s focus return to the same efficient disconnected coldness.

Like that, he would fit Anbu perfectly.

He gives the sign to pursue the mission and in an instant Gai is at the front door of the research center, they don’t get a welcome party immediately, but as Gai force the door, enemies attack. Kakashi rushes on one of them but he doesn’t have the time to use his Chidori that Gai already sent the ninja away with a kick. It’s fast, it’s ferocious and they can hear bones broke at the impact on the stones of the research center.

Kakashi’s instinct awake and an intense fear takes his guts. Gai jumped extremely close to his Chidori, to the point he felt his electricity touch. If Gai hadn’t been moving so fast, he would have taken it.

The idea of hurting yet another friend with his jutsu paralyze him for an instant. Images of Rin flash through his mind, his hands feels like they are covered in blood again.

Not now.

It could happen all over again, and it terrifies him on the spot. It’s dangerous, they’re in the middle of a fight, but Gai and Genma are managing without him for the moment. He needs to snap out of it.

All he knows is that he won’t be using his Chidori again today.

The battle is quickly over. Kakashi and Genma were here more for support than anything else. Gai could have taken them all without much trouble. He feels like a beast, brutal and ruthless.

Konoha’s Green Beast Kakashi remember. Beast. He gets it now, why it was given to Gai. He wishes he hadn’t found out. He doesn’t have time to settle his uneasiness, they have a mission to complete.

Part Two - Found