#this is in part because nobody follows me. which is ideal to be fair

[cainshitincorporated]

My blog is full of great jokes that everybody is too afraid to share

[gh0st-patr0l]

ADHD in DSMP

So about a week back, I made a post about Karl Jacobs (a bit of a passive aggressive one, I’ll admit, but I think it was justified), complaining that a lot of the ‘criticism’ I see about Karl is actually rather insensitive towards his ADHD. I got a lot of responses to that post, and the most common sources of confusion I saw were:

People not understanding what I was saying they should avoid being judgmental of, or-

People who didn’t know that Karl had ADHD or didn’t understand which behaviors were caused by it.

First of all, Karl has confirmed that he has ADHD.

(NOTE: Yes, I know he said ADD. ADD and ADHD used to be categorized as separate disorders, but in the most recent edition of the DSM, it was decided that they are both simply subtypes of the same disorder- ADHD is the correct technical term. ADD is still sometimes used as shorthand by some practitioners to diagnose primarily-inattentive ADHD, but it's a bit outdated.)

Secondly, that original post made me realize that a lot of people who may be well-meaning may genuinely not fully understand ADHD and its symptoms as well as they want to or think they might. If you aren’t aware, Karl isn’t the only one in the DSMP with ADHD- to my understanding, both Technoblade and Dream have confirmed that they have it as well. So, I thought it would be helpful to put together a comprehensive crash-course on ADHD symptoms and how they effect people’s behavior!

Now, before we go further, I want to address something- as I said earlier, I saw some people unsure of whether certain behaviors are ADHD or “just his personality”. I feel the need to point this out above the read more so people will see it. To answer this question, as someone with ADHD;

A lot of times, it’s both. ADHD is a neurodevelopmental disorder, meaning that it’s caused by the way your brain developed from birth. A lot of the symptoms and effects of ADHD are extremely influential towards the way we think, act, and behave, to the point where “symptoms” and “normal behavior” really don’t have a clean differentiation. This is why it’s technically classified as a ‘disorder’, instead of an illness. While certain aspects of it can require treatment, the condition itself as a whole is not something to be mitigated or eliminated- it’s a part of who we are as a person. This is also why sometimes, even if you don’t have ADHD, you’ll look at certain specific behaviors or experiences and go “Oh, but I do that too!”. A lot of ADHD ‘symptoms’ are just a bunch of normal traits or behaviors, but in combination with each other and some actually problematic aspects, form the appearance of the disorder.

So, what are you allowed to nitpick about it? Well, there’s no real ‘authority’ on this, and even if there was it certainly wouldn’t be me. But if you want my opinion? Nothing.

See, here’s the thing- what I was trying to say when I made that post was not that you can’t be critical of Karl. If you want to say something about his Actions, his Ideals, or the content he creates- sure, go for it, that’s fair. I will agree that there are some very valid and constructive points to be made. But when you post ‘criticism’ about the way he speaks, his interests or preoccupations, his personal behaviors? That’s not criticism. That’s just judging someone.

And you’re allowed to think that stuff! Nobody can control what annoys or bothers them. It doesn’t necessarily make you a bad person. But you don’t need to be vocal about it. You can keep your mean thoughts to yourself. And if you do make posts or communities or whatever about judging someone for things they can’t change about themselves, don’t call it “criticism” or try to morally justify it. It’s not productive or righteous, it’s just rude. Nothing else.

Anyway. Back to Education!

The following will be a descriptive list of visible ADHD behaviors, using Karl’s behavior as examples.

I feel the need to add a disclaimer here- I am not a mental health professional. However! I have ADHD myself, I have taken some psychology courses and done a Lot of research into this stuff, and I’m the daughter of a therapist with access to a DSM. While I’m not an expert, I’d like to think I’m fairly well versed and knowledgeable on at least ADHD. (That being said, if by chance anyone who Is a professional sees this post and notices mistakes, by all means let me know and I’ll fix it!!)

WHAT IS ADHD?

You’re here for the behaviors more than the science, so I’ll keep this short and sweet. ADHD is Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (Known in the past as Attention Deficit Disorder). Despite its name, the root problem of ADHD is not in the person’s ability to pay attention, but their brain’s capability to manage itself. In simple terms, people with ADHD have a lot less control over what their brain does and wants. This results in some behavioral differences along with some personal challenges, namely a difficulty with attentiveness and self-discipline.

Now, onto the symptoms!

ATTENTION

This is perhaps the most visible and pervasive of the ADHD symptoms, hence why it’s the namesake. Inattention is a lack of focus and an inability to stay present and occupied with certain tasks or thoughts.

Because ADHD impairs self-management of the brain, people with it have an extremely hard time directing themselves anywhere but where their brain instinctively wants to go. This results in inattentiveness and the easiness of distraction that is often mocked or stereotyped for people with ADHD.

Here are some examples of how Karl can sometimes display his inattentiveness;

When he has an idea that he seems passionate about, only to drop it or switch to something totally different without warning soon after (either forgetting or getting bored of his original idea).

When he sets out to do something like a build, works on it for a short amount of time, and then immediately gives up or gets someone else to do it.

When someone else is talking and he totally zones out. (NOTE: While I wont make a whole section for it because it’s not easily observable, maladaptive (constant and intrusive) daydreaming is a common ADHD symptom as well!)

It’s important to remember that the whole problem with ADHD is that we can’t control when or what we focus on. When someone with ADHD zones out during a conversation or activity, it doesn’t mean they’re doing it on purpose, and they likely don’t mean any offense! We often are trying our best to listen or participate, but our brain just wont cooperate.

However, inattention is not the only way ADHD effects our focus. There’s also what’s called hyperfocus or hyperfixation, which is when we are so absorbed into a single subject, task, or idea that it is extremely difficult to get us to think about or do anything else. This is usually because our brains have found something that is getting those satisfaction chemicals flowing, and it’s clinging to that with everything it’s got.

People with ADHD will often experience brief periods of hyperfocus. Think of how Karl talks about spending hours straight working on a build or project without eating or drinking, or how he’ll sit down to play a game with someone and end up going six hours without even noticing.

There are also hyperfixations, where someone with ADHD becomes extremely preoccupied with a certain subject, topic, etc. for a period of time. These can be short term- personally, my hyperfixation can sometimes change as quickly as a couple weeks at a time. However, it can also be long term. Karl has been obsessed with Survivor since the second grade- not to mention his memorabilia, rambling, and constant references to Kingdom Hearts.

HYPERACTIVITY/STIMMING

This is a BIG one for Karl. I should clarify; ‘stimming’ is not a technical term, and in professional situations these behaviors are just referred to as Hyperactivity. However, I personally like the term stimming much more and find it far more accurate to what the behaviors actually are, so I’ll be using that instead for this post.

If you’re not already familiar, ‘stimming’ (derived from ‘stimulation’) is an unofficial term used to describe consistent and abnormal patterns of physical and vocal behavior typically expressed by people with ADHD and ASD (Autism Spectrum Disorder). This includes things that people usually call fidgets or tics.

(NOTE: There are differences in how people with those two disorders stim. This post will explain stimming specifically from an ADHD perspective! ASD stimming is caused by very different factors and presents itself in much different ways. Do your own research if you’re curious!) 

There are two major observable forms of stimming- physical and vocal. Karl expresses both VERY often! I’ll use examples for each type;

Physical Stims: Flapping his hands/arms, jumping up and down when he’s excited, twisting around into odd positions in his chair, throwing, hitting, or tapping things, standing up and pacing around when he’s hyped up or laughing, twisting his rings, etc.

Vocal Stims: When he gets excited and repeats a certain phrase incessantly (Think any variation of “I’m popping off”), making certain repetitive noises while he’s focused on something or bored (”la la la”, the meow-noises, the weird heart-beat noise, etc.), singing or humming, tongue clicking.

It should be noted here that it’s pretty common for people with ADHD to get “stuck” on certain phrases or noises, and be unable to stop repeating them (reminiscent of echolalia, a symptom of ASD, but not the same thing). Think of how Karl might sometimes keep making a weird noise for an extended period of time even though it’s not that funny, or that one time he was physically struggling to keep himself from singing the Bakugan theme. These repetitions are completely impulsive and trust me, we usually know how annoying it is while we’re doing it, but we physically cannot stop.

ADHD stims are caused by the fact that the barrier between our brain and body is much weaker than a normal person’s. Because of this, most ADHD stims are actually very positive expressions of joy, excitement, or enthusiasm! Y’know how when you get excited, you feel like you wanna jump or dance? The ‘hyperactivity’ of ADHD is basically just that, but we don’t have the self-control to Not do it.

Stims can be caused by negative feelings like overstimulation, but in ADHD this is not nearly as common. Usually, the most negative reason we’ll stim is when we’re bored- in that case, our brain isn’t getting the Constant Stimulation that it naturally wants, so stimming is a way to make our own.

Whatever the cause, stimming is natural and impulsive. While different people experience it to varying degrees, those who regularly stim typically have little to no control over it. Suppressing stims is very hard and very frustrating to do.

Besides that, like I said- ADHD stims are often an expression of joy, excitement, or enthusiasm. They’re a beautiful thing that shouldn’t be seen as shameful or annoying!

BEHAVIORAL DIFFICULTIES

ADHD is a disorder which causes a lack of self-control. Naturally, this means that people with ADHD are inherently reckless, impulsive, and struggle with a lack of self-discipline that they cannot fix.

Of course, people with ADHD do still have some level of self-control, and they are still responsible for conscious, long-term behavioral patterns and decisions. However, in regards to most things, they are much, much less capable of controlling themselves than an average neurotypical person is.

These are some examples of how this will often present itself in Karl;

Excessive rambling, dragging on a joke or conversation when it could and should probably have been dropped, etc.

Speaking over or interrupting other people (NOTE: As someone with ADHD- THIS IS ALMOST ALWAYS UNINTENTIONAL. I know it can seem rude or annoying but I promise, 90% of the time if someone with ADHD talks over you, they either didn’t realize or physically couldn’t help it. Please try to be patient!)

Lack of awareness towards social cues (NOTE: Unlike ASD, in which the person is incapable of/has problems fully understanding social cues, ADHD results in a lack of awareness. For whatever reason, we’re often just not paying close enough attention to pick up on things like body language, tone of speech, and facial expression as well as we would normally.)

Indecisiveness and overthinking

Bluntness, lack of subtlety

Unintentional dismissiveness, accidentally ignoring things/people (NOTE: Again, this behavior is purely accidental. In this case, it’s usually just the person genuinely not hearing or processing things.)

Making noises, speaking, joking, etc. at inappropriate times

There’s probably more, but I think you get the idea by now. A lot of the time, behavior which results from ADHD can be seen as rude, lazy, dismissive, or otherwise intentionally harmful. In reality, we just aren’t wired to navigate common social interaction with grace.

In Karl’s case, he’s clearly an incredibly sweet, empathetic, and kind-hearted person, if the various close friends who have talked about him are to be believed. Just because he talks over people or makes a poorly timed joke, that doesn’t mean he meant any harm. 

I think that’s about it for how much I wanted to point out! You can do more research if you’re curious, but I feel like this post should be enough to tell you what to keep in mind and be understanding about when talking about/making judgements on Karl, and other people with ADHD.

[alberivh]

unwanted lovers

the lovers of the sinner, the thieves of the nation. Caught in despair after hiding their motives behind the ruins of aristocrats , they were now together behind the cells of execution, loving each other in no bounds of life nor death.

diluc x gn!reader

contains (proceed with caution) : major character death, gruesome death, execution. (Heavy angst, comfort/hurt, bad ending)

a/n ; I’m very sleepy these days so enjoy reading this

“diluc..are you sure we’re going to be alright?” , standing behind the cliff, both hands and leg chained up in a huge rocks; standing beyond the other side of the sinners-walls. The cliff was a sharp one, designed to be a punishment for fugitive to regret. But you in the other hand..looked like you didn’t regret anything. Seems like you gone numb and missing, probably dying out of beneficial, but for what exact reason..? Aren’t you going to die? Aren’t you?

The air was in a perfect shape, blowing through the ears of whisper into corruptors mind. It was breezing and perfect, a match for a dead end. The flowers were all a bare minimum, seems as if it was never supposed to grow; Same as how the contradictions between you and diluc relationship.

“we sure are going to be alright…haha”

a simple small affairs of thieves, relationship grew beneath titles. scrawling through the nights of the nations, searching for victims to be devour. Fortune, foods, informations and many more. Dangerous or so, we could talk about it later; after all, privileges of the poor are none to another. Dirts fill the clothes of people with nothing, looking like a lost dog from the leach of their master; it’s how you both look. generally speaking, maybe you both are really perfect from one another. Poor and worthless, messing up the people whom privileges drowns them to exploitation. beneficial for business and public figure, making the knives on both of your throat approach the second you both slaughtered another man.

diluc look so much more than perfect, he is astonishing. Fit more to be a corrupted man instead of a filth whom licks someone toes to be payed. And to live to the fullest, he repayed those who are involved with the corrupted government, by either slaughtering them or just..stealing their granted fortune. It is a job, and to be specific it is a living hell to be in love with your own partner. Loving seems so mature, yet you both found it to be quite bothersome. or maybe that’s just how nature works for someone who grew in an abandoned wilderness. Like how diluc live after his family died, like how you live after you lost everything to the ego’s of the rich.

you both were empty, like you predicted it to be. Diluc was a scum, same as his only eye which felt like a sharpened death. kissing his dry lips as you cried in his chest, embracing the figure of a red-hair thief who ones told you an eternal peace, for the poor we live and for the rich we died, that’s how our life’s work sweetheart. Even if death embarrassed your cheeks, all you wished is for you both to be alive as soon as the worlds ends to be a better place. The smoke of his cigarettes surrounded your cries, it stings the pain of abandonment, like the cries of lovers who only lives to die in the age of glory. although you wouldn’t assume the fact he was a worth of a thousand years of reincarnation, he sure is enough for puppet like you to be pleased.

“still wearing your brother’s eyepatch i see? What’s up with you always wearing it around? You look better without it anyways.”

“he lives in the other ground of the walls, possibly already meeting my father right now. He was beneath 6 feet under the ground anyways, would you like to mourn him?”

“you could just told me he’s dead, Diluc”

“i can’t he’s supposed to be alive after all.”

that’s how you know Diluc’s past, how’d you believe his slaughter and warm to be an abominable crime. As much as you loath those who stick with their family principles, you expect nothing more than Diluc’s ability to keep you both balance from the assumptions of the rich. He is a tool and a lover, even if you fall out of love with him, you could still rely within his power..or so you thought. Fate was cruel, they decided to lend a hand for the inability to be punished by the divine.

You found a comfort at his kisses, it was beautiful. A single line of poet to an old paper, perfection. Never have you though to be deeply in love. dancing like nobody but yourself and diluc himself. Skipping through the laces of fingertips as the mansion burns to the ground, how beautiful the sunset is at the evening; the dust of the corpses which were buried trying it’s best to find the wind, but they were corrupted and only both of you were worth to be despaired. The soul of the worthless, the soul who craves justice for the none; oh god, you both really are in love.

Embracing nothing but him, loving the movement like no one but him, only him, my beloved diluc. The flowers petals which was turned into a thousand of flames are now flying and surrounding the neighborhood. Burning the whole corrupted society was unexpectedly mesmerizing. It seems like it covered the injustice of your action. Burying people underneath their grasp, leaving terrors to the innocent, maybe fairness are really that blind.

The mansion was burned to dust, leaving nothing but bones in the investigation. The fortune you took was nothing, the burns of the screaming neighbors are your daily teases. Diluc found it pleasing that you both are in love once again. Dancing once again. But this time, both of you were chained up in a chamber. Legs full of bruises, cheekbones gone frail, and lips were all drying in horrors. you both are dying in tremors.

Dancing in each other arms, suffering in worth, it’s the last night they thought. The swaying burns of guilt, the loving kisses of embrace, it’s so addicting. Although diluc was hesitant to let go, maybe it’s time to grew on the fact by loving was a cursed from the start. For both of you and diluc. The chains in your legs were rotten, making a deep infection on your ankles. A fatal sources of death and unbalance.

“can we promise something diluc?” , your voice gone hoarse. Trembling and terrified, dying wasn’t so ruthless but seeing diluc suffer was something you wish you could unchange. It’s exhausting to live like no one, maybe diluc felt so too. You were too scared to shed another tears to his chest, anxiety was planting it’s ideology beyond the walls of your mind.

The night was peaceful, maybe the starry sky doesn’t deserve it’s view. Humans are frail, fragile, and too much of a pain to begin with. If you were a god, maybe diluc could be your lover for the rest of your eternal realm. The next life would be fine, just make diluc safe from the grudge of death.

“let us marry each other in the next life, even if it meant for one of us to die again..”

“your wishes is my command, love” , an agreement. He agrees to be in love, whenever the situation is those words would always be kept near. Marriage aren’t that simple to be idealized, but knowing this is your last wish, why not accept the terms? He asked himself.

“you don’t need to be formal like that y’know Diluc, we’re in the same bounds, a fugitive in a prison..”

“well that doesn’t change the fact you’re my lover?” , he replied again. The same silence scowl your emotions to a mess. You really wished you did more than just this, everything. Kissing his lips wasn’t enough, tearing up in his chest wasn’t enough, loving him wasn’t enough and lastly, maybe in the next life your time was too short. can i sacrifice the whole world for you then? So anything that could happened in this state, all of it was for us to met again. I’m too selfish to let go, you are the best thing that universe have fortune to be.

I accept each granted the world has gave, even if it meant for me to die again. Let go of diluc’s hand, let me be the crystalflies Diluc envied; An eternal peace for lovers to reincarnated as. If anything has happened to both of us, let share the burden towards the undeserved. Because in our next life, maybe there wouldn’t be us, just you and another person in chains of eternal love-life.

so whenever i’m lost diluc, intertwined my hands again. And you, whenever you’re lost diluc, love me all over again. Because if this time wasn’t enough, then let us die in each other embrace. Loving you was an intention i never have despises, and as those ancient story told. ‘The once fallen first are the once who fell in love harder.’ I though it was a wise poet, but maybe know i understand, Diluc.

I lost you after you fell to the cliff, i have no regret on loving you. But if time was partial enough for both of us, i rather fall for you without any requited relations with you anymore. Diluc, you’re free. As free as the ocean waves, as free as the guides of the wind, you’re free. I’m sorry for letting you fall away from the range of my life, i’m sorry..

so please Diluc, meet me again sooner or after, i love you.

the pleas for the corpse to hear, here you standing in the cliff alone, waiting for someone to push you apart; to follows Diluc’s path. oh diluc..he look so lonely down’s there..blood all over his head and torso; as he saw you fallen down to his side. Eyes opened in shock, as the knife inside of his stomache rumbles to death. Stings. It stings. He watches the world shutter in his eyes, the eyepatch he use was no longer his brother remnants, it was just a decoration for another corpse to be buried in burden of love. He seems so pathetic in this state, seeing you fallen to his side and couldn’t do nothing but smile.

diluc why am i the only one talking here?

The bloody place you both fallen through was a perfect place for continuation. Trying to slip your head to diluc’s unwary neck, the warm part of his body you couldn’t let go. You heard the whispers of the wind once again, it seems it pitied the living and the dead. Diluc heartbeat was long gone, possibly gone when he smiles at you; for the last time. Diluc was just a body now, your lover have returned to another universe. To another universe you promises him before.

‘in heaven we’ll be free..in heaven we’ll get married diluc.”

the thought of you slowly losing consciousness was better than before. the warm of Diluc’s corpse was starting to fade, same as how your instinct shatter to pieces. The only thing you could see beside the sky was the knife inside his stomach, waiting for it to be freed from the blood of the filth. But your strength was long gone, death already ruins your eyes in despised of being in love. As the ancient tales says in the end of the page, they told the audience a never-ending happy tales, a hope for the lovers to heard at the end. you both are free now..

TAGLIST : @mikachuchu , @zierx @childeluv @urujiako , @chichikoi , @noirkkat , @aphrodicts-imagination , @icecappa

proofread; @mikachuchu (thank you so much wtf mika ily for this /p)

[furiousgoldfish]

Personal post about trauma under the cut, extremely upsetting content, do not read if you had narcissistic parents and don't wanna get triggered, I am very sad and mad and it's hard to talk about this. TW child labor, child torture, brainwashing, death threats, narcissistic abuse.

*

I was a hardworking child, I was happy and excited to work, I wanted to be a part of everything that's being done. I noticed work warranted for people to get respect, food, praise, acceptance, and I wanted to work hard so I too would be a part of that. My family lived in a rural area, they kept animals, grew fields of crops, were always in some sort of construction work, so me always being eager to work was pretty much ideal for them, or you'd think that it was. You'd think that.

I was working eagerly and I realized, that unlike for adults, I don't get respect, praise, acceptance, or sometimes even food. It was for some reason denied to me only. And I was still happy to work because I chased that feeling of personal accomplishment, even if there was no rewards. And again, you'd think this is perfectly convenient and ideal to parents who wanted free labour and to give no recognition or praise in return. You'd think that.

But it wasn't enough for them. Father got this idea to take me out to work with him alone, away from home. I remember the place we went to, only as a place I need burned down to the ground before I could breathe again. It was a demolition-construction of a house, and I don't remember how many time I've been there. All I know is, after first few times, I no longer wanted to go. I begged not to go.

I am guessing my father could not bear the looks of me working happily, or even working silently. Me doing everything I was told was not fun enough for him– so he would give me false instructions. As an easy setup for punishment. I did exactly what I was told, and would get screamed at and beaten up. Then forced to keep working in tears, shaking, terrified, injured, while being further berated. And that was only the start.

Even as a child, I was diligent and responsible about doing work, and I know I was getting things done just fine, because, I was doing the sibling's share of chores too. If siblings were called to work, they would simply mess up on purpose so I would be told to repeat it after them, correctly. Sometimes siblings would have me do it and take the credit, which I didn't mind because working made me feel better about myself. It made me feel useful. My mind was already dissociated from my body to the point where I no longer felt exhaustion, pain, strain, or any physical effect work was having on me. I would get berated and shamed if I showed signs of being tired or strained. So my body disregarded it all.

And yeah, that wasn't enough either. I was still sometimes feeling okay. If I was allowed to work alone, and let my mind wonder, if nobody commented on it I knew it was okay.

So this is where they decided to take a step further and disallow me to feel okay at any point. I was humiliated while working to the point of tears. I'd be ridiculed in front of guests. I could no longer enjoy my own thoughts, but constant criticism, insults, accusations and humiliation was raining down on me at every step. And when I was done, with tremendous effort it took to endure this, I would be told 'It would have been better if you had done nothing.' So my insane effort to endure abuse to get things done, was rendered worthless in a second.

Father kept taking me away to work alone with him, and forced me to listen to his monologues, which I hated, because he was boring, wrong and self-obsessed, but I wasn't allowed to say that, or argue. My silent compliance was never enough. He had to hit me. He had to find something to berate me over. He kept inventing reasons. I would clean his entire garage and he'd move a steel closet I couldn't possibly move and berate me for not cleaning under it.

I had a log thrown into my head, causing a head injury, and I had to keep working. I fell and fractured my shoulder so badly I could barely walk; I was brought to a forest to drag logs around, too heavy for me to lift. I was sometimes orchestrated to get injured; father would start a trailer I was standing on the edge of, and forced me to fall by quickly moving forward just enough. I was still expected to work after that. He hit me with a blunt edge of an axe and berated me for standing there. I was told to 'not expect a lift to the hospital'. I was brought to work while starved, grieving, suicidal. I was lied to about where I was going and what would I be doing, and for how long. I was never allowed to stop working.

And the game of giving me wrong instructions and punishing me for doing it 'wrong' never stopped. I caught on and begged for correct instructions. I would ask to explain, how to do it, to show me, anything. 'HOW OLD are you not to know this? I SHOULDN'T HAVE TO TELL YOU! YOU SHOULD KNOW THIS BY NOW!' And by his rage, I could tell that if I don't do it any way I knew how, I'd be punished instantly. I had no choice but to try – and of course fail, and feel horribly ashamed for 'deserving to get beat up'. Eventually my brain started shortcircuiting at the simplest tasks, I would mess up because I was in terror. I couldn't think.

At this point, I no longer wished to work for people who would inflict violence on me. And that is when I was quckly informed that if I didn't work, I would be killed. Not in those words. It was 'You have to work if you want to live!' followed by 'We can kick you out and you will starve on the street. Nobody will take you in. There is no place for you. Nobody wants someone like you. You don't deserve to eat if you don't work.' My choices were taken away. If I still refused, the result would be to beat me and force me to work injured, shaking and crying.

All this, for what? I would have been HAPPY to work. I would have been chasing my little daydreams and singing the pokemon tune, and if I was ever praised, I'd be the happiest kid on the block. I was a kid who liked to work. I wanted minimal fairness, minimal acknowledgment. To be a part of the family. Only that.

It just wouldn't do for the narcssistic father. Watching a child be broken, terrified and shaking, crying, ashamed, guilty, working past exhaustion, in injuries, was just too tempting for him to pass up. Even free labor wasn't worth to him as much as the pleasure of child torture. He needed that like it was a drug. What kind of a sick high did he experience, breaking a defenseless kid? What kind of pleasure did it entail, getting someone rid of their natural happiness to work? Was it fun, tearing me into pieces, over and over again? Does he remember it as a delicious, satisfying pleasure? Does he daydream about it? He knew it was wrong; he forced me to stop crying and hide the tears before we went home. 'Don't say anything to your mother.' I was told before being stuffed back in his car.

And now... I can't work. I can't even move sometimes. It was torn away from me. My ability to work was ripped away from my child body when I had no way to defend it or to grab it back and protect what is mine. I can't work anymore. It's terrifying. It terrifies me to not work. Because I was made aware working is the only thing keeping me alive, and capitalism confirms this, so I remain to forever fight with myself about how even if everyone says otherwise, I still deserve to live. Heartbroken, abandoned, with my basic human abilities stripped from me. It doesn't make me deserving to die.

I am so angry and sad. If I had my natural ability to work back, I'd be fine. I would be able to live safely. I wouldn't spiral into feeling like an unworthy member of society. I learned to survive very insecurely like this, but I hate every second of it. To know that instead of this insane uncertainty, anxiety, guilt for being bedridden, guilt for existing and not moving, I could have just found a job, have normal income? I can't bear it. I can't bear knowing this was wrenched away from me, because it was pleasurable to do so, because tearing me into pieces was a fun hobby for people who didn't care if what they were doing to me killed me. And I couldn't have done anything to stop it. And I'm like this now. Unable to take any more torture, unable to endure any more of being triggered, wondering if I would die from lack of resources, or would my body fail permanently in attempts to process all the exhaustion and pain I was dissociated from for my entire childhood.

How was this worth it. How it could have been worth it to anyone, destroying someone's ability to work, only because it's pleasurable. I felt the plan was to work me until I no longer could do it, then kill me. It's what they did to animals. And I was told I was more worthless than an animal. I was called lazy and a monstrous name I can't even translate, that implied I was burdening everyone with my existence.

It was even a bigger punch to my face to realize, after I escaped, that he was profiting from everything I did. That it would have taken money – way more than was ever spent on my survival, to get all that labor done. He was profitting while telling me I was worthless and don't deserve to eat or sleep in his house. He is now renting the place I was broken to help build. I was torn apart and he is still benefiting from it. And I have nothing. Not even a functional body to work with anymore.

I know I'm not the only person who was constantly left alone with narcissists as a child and had this, or worse, done to them. They don't care which pieces of children are left over by the time they're done getting their high. We're only a thing to consume, not living beings, not people, not someone whose life matters. Our pain is food to them. My father readily became a predator who snached his own kid away for torture sessions, and felt proud and fulfilled to turn his own child into a creature who cannot work anymore to survive.

Don't leave children alone with narcissists. I am trying so hard to get better, but facing reality, is this a thing a person gets better from? It's not a bodily harm of once or twice, this was happening for the most majority of my lifetime. It makes sense I cannot move. It makes sense I'm terrified to be triggered into this. It makes sense I can barely bear the reality of it. A person tortured hundreds of times wont just get up and walk away. I can't either. I have to lie here and hope that one day it will get better.

If you read thru all this, and you relate to the parts of this story, know that I am so sorry for what you were put thru. It's devastating and horrenous. If this is how you grew up, it would have been better not to have a family. We all should have been protected from this.

[amysubmits]

The Needs Dance

I’ve said many times that we follow the typical D/s hierarchy of subs needs, doms needs, doms wants, subs wants. @cynicaldom  has said it many times, too. 

I would still say we do, but I have become more conscious of how that is pretty over-simplified. (Part of it was talked about in this blog post and reblogs with some other subs which I think is a good read). I've come to understand why some disagree with the hierarchy when taken at face value. I too, would disagree if it meant that my needs always came first...and it’s a logical conclusion to read the hierarchy as meaning the subs needs always come first because context isn’t given. I’m not trying to say my context is the original context intended by whoever made it, or anything like that. I'm just explaining what we do in great detail. 

There are multiple cases where my needs don’t come first, I’ll try to sort of categorize them.

My needs don’t come first when our needs don’t conflict with one another. If we can meet my needs, and meet CD’s needs, we meet both! We wouldn’t hold back on meeting CD’s needs just to elevate mine or anything like that. We have n interest in neglecting needs if we can help it. In practice, we’re generally able to meet his needs and my needs pretty simultaneously, so we just do both, and there is no hierarchy to it in those cases. 

My submissive needs don’t come before his basic needs. Often I talk about our needs within D/s, and that context of “within D/s” is critically important to recognize. My submissive needs are things that I need in order to feel valued, appreciated, seen, safe, secure as his submissive. Being submissive to CD, giving him power/control/authority over me, makes me need more from him than I would need if we were not D/s. Just as one example, in order to feel valued while following rules he gives me, I need him to be consistent with watching our rules. However, that is not a basic human need, it’s something I need because we are doing D/s. I’m not someone who typically views our “D/s selves” as separate from “the real us” or anything like that. I see D/s as very natural to who we are. Neither of us would be very fulfilled in a vanilla relationship...so I see D/s as a legitimate need that we have. It’s not really just a want. Still, D/s is something we do for fulfillment, or to thrive. It’s not something we have to do to survive. Therefore, it’s a lesser need than basic human needs. 

To again use the example of consistency. Consistency from CD is a pretty big need of mine as a submissively. Part of this means I expect CD to do the things he says he’s going to do. However, if he were to tell me we were going to watch movies on Friday night, and then he wasn’t feeling well, I’d expect him to prioritize his need to rest over my need for him to follow through on movie night. 

My needs don’t come first if they are smaller. Even when looking at two needs that are both D/s needs, or two needs that are both basic human needs, that doesn’t mean they are equally important. If I have a need that is clearly smaller than his, we would prioritize his ‘big’ need over my small need. 

For example, I might be itching to struggle against him as a role-reminder. I may make plans in my own mind to get him to play-fight me when he gets home. Then once he’s home, I can see that he’s feeling low and that he needs my obedience and service and way more than I need to struggle-play. Or perhaps a better way of framing his need in this case would be that he needs me to NOT struggle against him? I would then prioritize his need over mine, because his is bigger. 

The Needs Dance

The hierarchy only comes into play for us when our needs contradict, and when our needs are roughly the same size and type. Whenever possible we prioritize both of us equally. When that’s not possible, we prioritize who has the bigger or more important need.

Most of the time we do this little dance that juggles both of our needs, and then we have to take turns putting our smaller needs on the backburner for each other on rare occasion. When our needs contradict, sometimes I have the bigger need, and sometimes he does. This means that over time, we both have our needs prioritized about the same, and we both have our smaller needs put on the back burner about the same. The needs dance balances itself out pretty evenly. I don’t think this is really any different than how most vanilla couples would handle things. When you both want the best for each other, you try to meet needs as equally as you can.

How it’s always been

I think we’ve always done a “needs dance” rather than having my needs go first all the time. However, I wasn’t very conscious of this needs dance for a long time. In a lot of cases, we just have strong instincts about how to handle situations. If his need was obviously bigger than mine, we didn’t have to really think about or discuss what would happen. We just do it. It’s the circumstances where our needs are similar in side and importance where it’s less clear what the fair thing to do is, that we have to think about how to prioritize needs, and those are the circumstances where we lean on the hierarchy. So, because we only really had to think about whose needs came first in those scenarios, I think I had formerly felt like my needs come first more often than they actually do. 

Doms have limitations, too. 

This is a bit of a side point. However, I thought it was somewhat related so I decided to toss it in here. I have many anecdotes where I hesitate with feeling too needy or like i’m wanting too much, asking too much, etc and then CD is easily able to accommodate my needs or wants and is very happy to do so.

Worrying about being too needy is an ongoing struggle I have. I definitely worry about being to needy when I’m not sometimes, and I know many other subs do as well. I understand encouraging subs to not feel bad about their needs in general, but especially in the cases where they really are seeing their needs as more burdensome than there are. Many subs could benefit from cutting themselves some slack and not worrying about their “neediness” as much as they do.

At the same time, I sometimes also see people go too far in the other direction, in my opinion. I have seen comments like “Don’t worry about being too needy, you’ll never be too much for your dom” and I don’t agree with that. 

I believe that ideally, your needs will be well-matched enough that neither of you has to sacrifice your needs very often at all, especially your bigger, important needs. 

However, I think literally everyone has limitations on what they can give. Nobody has unlimited energy, unlimited ability, unlimited emotional energy, etc. I think pushing the idea that doms should be able to meet 100% of their subs needs 100% of the time is just a bad concept. They’re human, too and they have a right to have their own needs prioritized sometimes, and to have their own limitations. 

Why the hierarchy matters to me still

The reality is that conflicting needs of roughly similar size just don’t happen that often. The hierarchy doesn’t really come into play very frequently. 

Despite the rarity, it’s important to me to have a Dominant that does support the hierarchy when it comes down to those tough cases. CD having those values matters to me because of what it says about him as a Dominant. I feel there are cases where a dominants needs should come first, which is those moments where they have a really big, important need. Dominance isn’t being a martyr. However, in the circumstances where needs are pretty equal, if a dominant would still choose to prioritize their needs above their submissives...I think that speaks to their values in a big way. 

In my mind, in the circumstances where needs are pretty equal and both can’t be met...the dom choosing to put their sub first shows that their dominance is motivated by wanting to take care of their partner. Where choosing to prioritize themselves in those instances would show they are...well, motivated by prioritizing themselves. That motivation difference and value difference is important to me. 

[dreamscapestars]

The Ultimate Reylo Fanfic List

* = highly recommend (aka if you’re going to read anything off this list read this)

Canonverse AUs

***All Our Days - E - 221k - "I can listen no longer in silence."The hologram projection of his strangely handsome face is cobalt blue, flickering, and full of static. "I must speak to you, Rey. You… you pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me that I am not too late.” He groans, runs his hands through his dark, silver-streaked hair, then refocuses his gaze on the holorecorder. “I offer myself to you again with a heart even more your own than when you almost broke it, eight and a half years ago. Do not say that man forgets sooner than woman, that his love has an earlier death."Here the recording of Ben takes a deep breath, and looks down at something outside the holorecorder’s field of view. Perhaps at his hands, Rey manages to think, through the veil of shock and timid, fluttering hope. She wishes she were there with him, so she could take them in her own, and offer him the confidence to carry on.But this is only a hologram, so she must wait. Eventually, when he looks up again, his features have settled. He looks… Fierce. Determined. Self-assured."I have loved none but you," he says. - canonverse jane austen au 

trillions of molecules - T - 11k - Fake papers forged, contract signed and a navy blue jumpsuit with his name printed on the chest supplied to him, the man who called himself Solo was hired by the Felucian Transit Corporation as shuttle operator number B414. - tros fix it au 

There Shall I Be - N/A - 50k -She remembers the first and only time she saw him smile like this before and how it didn’t touch his eyes at the time and how it broke her heart.Now it fills her heart and gives her life.She shoves him back onto their blanket and climbs on top of him. She pulls off her sweater and takes him inside her again and rides him into the night. - canonverse far from the madding crowd au

*landscape with a blur of conquerors - E - 362k - "While I share your contempt for this situation in which we find ourselves, do not mistake it as apathy," he hissed through gritted teeth, dark eyes burning. "I hardly expect your disposition to sweeten, but I will be damned if I allow my future Empress to behave in a manner that reflects poorly on me and on the First Order!""If you allow?" She wrenched her arm out of his viselike grasp, batting his hand away for good measure. "I don't belong to you. I don't belong to anyone.""That might have been the case back when you were a scavenger on that pitiful scrap heap of a planet, but now?" His sardonic gaze flickered over her silk robes and the jewels woven through her elaborate braids. "Now you are the Chume'da, and the Chume'da belongs to her people. Their fate is entirely in your hands. Should you cross the line, it is they who will suffer for it. Am I making myself clear?""I hate you," she said bitterly. He sneered at her. "See? Already you are acclimatizing so well to married life." - arranged marriage au

Modern AUs

*the man, the stallion, and the wind - E - 17k - Weary and alone, Rey barrels west on the Trans-Canada Hwy in her old pickup truck. Weary and in need of a lift, Ben Solo stands by the side of the road with his thumb out, in the hopes of hitching a ride.One hell of a winter storm’s about to roll in, leaving them stranded. What ever shall they do? - hitchhiker au 

The Mechanic - E - 122k - It's a magical midsummer night, just made for following a persuasive, dangerous-looking lawyer to a hotel across the road from the party. But then reality catches up to Rey. - mafia baby au

*Soul Searching - E - 205k - Sixteen-year-old Rey finds out she’s soulmates with her English teacher -- in front of her entire class. Now the school gossips won’t leave her alone, prying for tidbits that Rey wouldn’t give them even if she had any. And she doesn’t. Because Mr. Solo is too horrified at being soulmates with an underage girl to even talk to her. - soulmate au

Mitan, Midi - E - 83k - After a French notary contacts Rey to inform her she's inherited a house in the Drôme (France), she decides from one day to the next to quit her job and move there. The house is pretty secluded, there's no service, no internet, no way to reach other people aside from the landline in the living-room.Ideal conditions, by her standards, as those theoretically should allow her to be perfectly alone. Theoretically. - french country side au

*A Treehouse Covered in Salt - E - 34k -High school senior Rey Johnson has lived next door to Ben Solo her whole life. The two could not be more different and at school, Rey wouldn't be caught dead in his presence. That doesn't stop her from sneaking out to their treehouse every night. Despite her unwillingness to be friends with Ben in the light of day, he has always been there with her in the darkness. - high school au

Initial - M - 45k - A Soulmate AU in which you are born with the initials of your soulmate marked on the nape of your neck. Easy enough, right? Except for two people who don't use their real names. - soulmate au 

Killing Me Softly - M - 32k - Rey clings to the hope that her husband will regain his memories after he survived a car crash that left him with amnesia. During her monthly visits at a medical facility with Ben, who now calls himself Kylo, she struggles to cope as he tries to make her let go of the past, and in turn, him with it. - amnesia au 

only child of the universe - E - 98k - The first time Rey meets Ben, they're carefree strangers getting high at the fair, alight and in love for a night. The second time is different. The second time is in therapy— where the asshole won't even acknowledge her. - high school au 

a place to go - E - 52k - All Rey Johnson wanted was solitude. A place to go where she could escape from the daily stressors and mayhem of her job. A place where she could enjoy some peace and some quiet. Her mentor Luke Skywalker's small cabin up north seemed like the ideal place to do just that. A week of seclusion was just what she needed.And then Ben Solo arrived. - snowed in au 

into the great laughter of mankind - E - 30k - There is something about watching Rey put her mind to task. Ben can't put a name to this something, exactly— all he knows is that it fascinates him like nothing else has in a long, long time."Dr. Solo?" She glances over at him. "What do you think?"I think I'm doomed, he wants to say but doesn't. I think the curse of the pharaohs has nothing on you. I think you are my Egypt. - archaeologist au

(now it’s) Time to Learn - M - 86k - “You’re a teacher?” Ben doesn’t look like a teacher. At least not like any teacher Rey has ever had. - teacher au

For Now - E - 8k - There are plenty of things he could say, but he doesn’t. Buying you muffins makes me excited to get out of bed in the morning. I wish I could go back in time and be the kind of person you could like. I don’t remember my life before you. ---------- When Kylo finds his soulmate, she doesn’t know, and he doesn’t tell her. - soulmate au 

Cupcake Wars - E - 36k - Entirely by accident, Rey ends up fucking someone who works for Snoke's Cupcakery. She's just blowing off steam. It doesn't mean anything at all. It certainly won't come back to bite her in the ass. - bakery au

The Food of Love - E - 60k - Rey picked up her first violin at eleven, finding a mentor in conductor and former-violinist Luke Skywalker. With the First Chair up for grabs, Rey is thrust into the spotlight as the youngest violinist to take First Chair in the NY Pops. But Kylo Ren - former violinist, former NY Pops cellist, formerly Ben Solo child prodigy - may take issue with Rey Nobody sitting in his grandfather's chair. - orchestra au 

Orion - E - 14k - Rey Niima finds herself in the Saharan desert trying to heal wounds from her life, and Ben Solo is there too, fixing himself along the way. - roadtrip au

Embers - E - 34k - All the myriad things he’d been—someone who made her laugh; the warmth on the other side of the bed; her best friend—those things, Rey had buried. Rey left Ben two years, three months, and sixteen days ago. But who's counting? - getting back together au 

Gilded - M - 11k - Everyone had two marks, one for class and another to identify a soulmate. She only had one: green rings on her finger, proof she was part of the laboring class. It made matters lonely, but never unbearable.Until she met him. He had two sets of marks—had a soulmate—and she did not. - soulmate au

flutz - E - 27k - Rey was determined to have no distractions during her first season in Senior Ladies figure skating.She swore that Olympic medalist and figure skating legend Ben Solo was not going to change that, no matter how intent he seemed on proving her wrong. - ice skater au 

oh autumn, oh teakettle, oh grace - E - 30k - "So let me get this straight," he says. "You're a dryad.""Quite so," she cheerfully replies."Like an actual—" His hand rises to make a feeble gesture at the towering elms that surround them— "tree-dwelling, speaks-with-animals, has-magical-powers, frolics-through-the-woods-in-orgiastic-pagan-frenzy dryad?"She wrinkles her delicately freckled nose. "Well, I don't know about orgiastic frenzy, that's really more of a maenad type of deal."He looks her up and down, taking in her pretty face and her slender figure in the skimpy white dress."Too bad," he mumbles. - dryad roadtrip au

A Proposal by Any Other Name - E - 188k - Rey and Finn have been A Thing for a long time now. Since she was eighteen, to be exact. When Finn leaves on a trip to Europe for six months for work, Rey finally chases after him to Dublin to do what he seems to be putting off: propose.She wants a family, after all.The universe has different ideas. Her flights are delayed, storms hit, she loses her tickets and everything seems to be going horribly. To top it off, she ends up stranded around a rather irritating man by the name of Kylo Ren. It goes about as well as you'd expect. - leap year au

endless summer afternoon - E - 63k - “My son's room is always made up,” Han had said, hitting a light switch as Rey clung to a dirty backpack in the dark hallway, “he never comes home. Warm bed might as well get some use.”Rey spared Han some of the dignity of his own longing assessment of the space that clearly hadn’t been looked at in a long time. An empty room in a quiet house. As gruff as he was, handing it off to some runaway nobody just because she was helping him rebuild a car was one of the kindest gestures she’d ever experienced, and had a hidden weight that she knew needed a respectful amount of privacy. Mysteries were often about unresolved sadness, and were usually only solved by the people who didn’t feel it.Rey is offered a place to stay: a spare bedroom once belonging to the mysterious Ben Solo. What does she do when she wakes up with him wanting his bed back? - roommates au 

Dandelion - E - 45k - Rey's an ex con and orphan, just released from jail after killing Plutt. She follows advice from her former guardian, Maz, and finds a job at Luke's coffee shop. Ben's a lawyer who lost his job and moved back to his hometown. He falls for Rey, unaware of her dark past. - coffee shop au

A Few Small Repairs - E - 69k - Ben Solo is a ruthless property developer, and Rey Johnson is the lone holdout on the block. She does not intend to give up what's hers, not for anything. (Not even for a pair of pretty eyes.) - property developer au

Unbroken - E - 7k - He found her sleeping in the stables, curled up in the stall of his newest, unbroken colt...

Lockjaw - M - 106k - Kylo finds Rey unconscious and near death on the side of a road, surrounded by twitching, wretched things looking to her for their next meal. Ever the altruist, he picks them off and takes her with him, saving her life in the process. It's no wonder that when she wakes she feels she owes him, and agrees to become his travel companion as he crosses the United States in search of safety and a new home. - zombie apoclypse au 

Everything to Prove - M - 13k - “The show,” he says. “It’s probably best if they don’t—if we don’t—”And Rey follows his line of thought at once. For all the program is one that doesn’t seem melodramatic—the height of drama in previous seasons came from someone’s cake falling over and that was about it—she does not doubt that the producers and cameramen would leap at the opportunity to make there be something out of nothing in their relationship—especially if there was something out of something.“Yeah,” she agrees. “Yeah, probably. We can pick baking stations that are…” but she doesn’t want to complete the thought. She likes baking next to Ben.“Or we can just be careful?” he suggests, sounding quite as pained by the prospect as Rey feels.“Yeah, careful. I can do careful,” Rey says at once and her lips are on his again and he’s laughing now, and she’s laughing, and she didn’t think laughter would be part of all this. She didn’t think it could be. But here she is, laughing and kissing and holding a man who, at some point, she’s going to want to beat.She does her best not to think of that now.It’s a friendly competition, after all. It’s not life and death. It’s baking. - great british bake off au 

*In Bloom - E - 13k - The flowers that bedeck her skin don’t lie—ballet dancer Rey is in love with her partner, Ben. But the years go by and his skin stays resolutely, devastatingly blank.He doesn’t love her. But when his hands are on her body, she can pretend. - ballet soulmates au

By Blood and Flame - E - 10k - Rey can’t go to her professors with this spell. She needs help, though, needs someone to do the spell with her, and she needs the best because it’s tricky. Dangerous.There’s a boy on campus. Powerful. Mysterious. He’s admired and envied, feared and loathed, depending on who’s talking, but for all everyone knows his story, no one seems to really know him. And Rey… Rey has been curious about him for… well, for longer than she wants to admit.She’s not sure if it’s good or bad luck that he’s the perfect person to help cast her spell. - magic college au

count the rings - E - 63k - “Because you’re sitting there all comfy, not looking at all bridal-” “I’ll just fetch the veil out of my backpack, shall I?” “-when you could be, you know, making a move on that fine-ass tree.” In which camping comes with unexpected consequences. - accidental marriage au

(won’t you let me) walk you home from school - E - 129k - Ben, a counselor in the upper school at the legendary Alliance Academy, keeps finding himself interacting with the lower school art teacher, Rey. He definitely doesn’t like it. - teacher au

follow in your form - E - 23k - Ben Solo wakes up paralyzed and angry about it.A story about dealing with change, holding onto hope, and finding love. - quadriplegic ben au 

*screwdriver - M -101k - Rey is a bright-eyed intern on her first campaign trail, Ben is an irritated data analyst, and how difficult can it be to get a legacy senator elected president? Apparently fucking impossible. - political au

9 pints - E - 83k - She knew next to nothing, and Google was largely unhelpful. All of her searches (“vampire sex rules” and “vampire dos and don’ts” and one very self-indulgent “average vampire cock size big?”) linked her to dated top ten lists written by anyone other than an actual vampire.Twenty minutes of frustrated scrolling eventually led her to a supernatural dating forum. The website was horribly aged, but still active. Questions were tagged, which meant that it was easy to narrow down her search. Vampire, she clicked, and Sex.--In which Rey gets suckered into shooting porn with one of Poe's pickiest vampire actors. - magical porn stars au

fine young cannibals - E - 27k - Kylo raised his head to the sky as he inhaled, his broad chest expanding even wider. His eyes fluttered shut, savoring the scent like a sumptuous meal. He grinned.“Oh,” he murmured, so softly Rey wasn’t even sure it was meant for her ears. His eyes slid to meet hers, scarlet and violent and hungry. “You brought a snack.”And then all hell broke loose.About three things, Rey is absolutely positive:First, she is totally, completely, and madly in love with her vampire boyfriend, Poe.Second, there is another vampire—an older, evil, definitely-not-hot vampire—that thirsts for her blood and wants nothing more than to kill her.And third, she is maybe not absolutely positive about either of these things. - twilight au

Epithumia - E - 46k- ἐπιθυμία, ας, ἡ: epithumia : desire, passionate longing, lust *** “No extra credit.” He made a noise that might have been a laugh. “You ask that every time.” “Well, I have to try.” Rey said, weakly. “Can you make an exception?” A lone eyebrow ascended his lofty forehead into his hairline. “Try harder, Miss Kenobi.” - college teacher/student au

Historical AUs (ranging from medieval to the early 2000s)

light carries on endlessly - M - 6k - “Traitor,” he told Cerberus gruffly not too much later, using both hands to scratch behind the hound’s many ears. What appeared to be a rat tail lay nearby on a blood-stained bit of stone. “What did I tell you about women with pretty eyes?”One wet tongue lapped at his wrist, and he sighed. “Right. Nothing.” - Hades and Persephone au 

The Witch in the Wood - E - 138k - As a knight errant of the kingdom of Alderaan, Kylo Ren has traveled the country, completing quest after perilous quest in search of redemption for the dark deeds of his past. When an evil witch captures the princess of a neighboring kingdom, Kylo reluctantly accepts the burden of rescue with the assumption that it will be a simple task.It is not. For the creature that lives in the woods is not a monster at all.Since her mentor died, Rey has lived in the witch’s tree and uses magic to maintain the balance of the forest. Her life is practical, repetitive, and simple—at least, until a wrathful knight thunders through her door and levels a sword at her throat. Yet something within the knight calls to her, a buzz beneath his skin that she recognizes.Without a doubt, he is not who he appears to be. - medieval witch au

Black Knight, White Queen - E - 53k - Luke Skywalker wrote his sister a letter on his deathbed, revealing that his ward is the orphaned heir of a family long thought extinct - and politically powerful. That letter fell into the wrong hands, and the secret of Rey's heritage is secret no more. The Emperor has managed to unite the Kingdoms, but he is old, and his son is weak. Seeking to ensure his son's claim to his throne, he sends his most trusted captain to bring the girl - willing or not - to be his son's bride. Rey is taken from her far-flung home, and plunged into a world of court intrigue, arranged marriage, political rivals, and would-be assassins - the black knight her constant companion and bodyguard. But even he, her dark shadow and protector, she cannot know whether to trust... - medieval bodyguard au 

Days to Remember - E - 42k - A man heads home after years of estrangement. What do you need from me? A woman leaves her world behind, a bird in a gilded cage. When we get to New York, I need help running away. -- I'll bring you to Boston with me. - titanic au 

*what if the storm ends - E - 61k - As a child, Rey is evacuated from London to the Yorkshire Dales during the Blitz. She spends the war in the care of the Solos on their farm, wandering the moors with their son looking for a legendary family artifact long lost. When the war is over, she returns to a city she no longer recognizes, and she writes a popular series of children's fantasy books based on her childhood in the Dales. After amassing fame and fortune with her stories, tragedy brings her back to the farm to see Ben Solo, once her greatest inspiration and now a widower. - post WWII au 

Take Me - E - 39k - Every night, at 8:30 pm, Rey and Ben get on stage and pretend to be in love with each other. At 9:15, they walk off stage and the actual fireworks begin. - 60s country singers au

I could have been wild, I could have been free (but nature played a trick on me) - M - 61k - “Did you know that I did not even learn your name until yesterday, when I married you?”His face flushed a darker red than it had at breakfast, and he attempted to defend himself with incompetent stammering, “I—I regret that. The situation, of course, would have been,” he wrung his hands together and stared at her feet, “It would have been preferable if we had known one another more. On several occasions, I did attempt to make myself known to you, but you seemed to have other preoccupations.”Rey could feel her face contorting into a sneer to spit out her barbed words, “Perhaps that was your cue not to marry me!” - regency arranged marriage au 

Patch - M - 20k - He is nineteen when he first sees her.She comes to the rink alone, laces her skates alone, strokes warm-up circles alone...He looks at her, really looks her in the eye, and he decides he likes what he sees.She may be young, but she is hungry and angry, and for now? That’s enough for him.It’s not like he has a lot of options. - 80 russian ice skaters au 

*The Great Big No - E - 165k - Kylo Ren is third generation rock royalty, a reigning brat prince starting to feel the burn of the fame he reached for with both hands. Rey is an aspiring singer on the verge of a big break, provided her A&R guy still has a job by the time she reaches LA. Their paths have crossed briefly, disappointingly, before. What happens when they collide? - 90s rock au

***go I know not whither and fetch I know not what - E - 119k - The year is 1994. The Iron Curtain has come down, the oligarchs have begun their rise to power, and Kyril Ren, a powerful member of the infamous crime syndicate Solntsevskaya Bratva, has been given a job: hunt down an estranged uncle who has been snitching to the FBI.Irena, nicknamed Rey by her adoptive father Luke, is a Krav Maga instructor in New York who has finally been able to obtain her original birth certificate from Russia. Turns out she was born in a little village named Vershinino, but if she wants to know more than that… she’s going to have to go there herself. - 90s russian mafia au 

we could plant a house, we could build a tree - E -124k - Ben takes a deep breath. “It’s—it’s a project. Conceptual art. You wouldn’t get it.”Rey presses her lips together to keep from laughing. She plans her next words quickly and carefully, determining what will get her the best reaction. “Really? Looks like you ruined a bedsheet to me.”His reaction does not disappoint. “Get out.” ** Seven-year-old Rey decides it's her duty to annoy the crap out of Ben Solo every single day she's alive. - 90s growing up together artist au

[incarnateirony]

I think one of the worst things in this fandom is knowing how much material is worth posting and yet I delay on because some scuzzbucket is going to try to twist it. In example: the analysis I want to do showing how SPN is essentially shattering sex and gender roles, I know if I don’t give some giant lead in showing what kind of jizzmonkey you’d have to be to say the opposite, someone would pull it because TheyDon’tLikeIt.

So right now, I’m going to go into it in shorthand:

The Generational Family

Supernatural started in a very classic heterosexual family structure. 

The Mom, Mary, was dead. She had the nurturing inner spirit and served as a sense of conscience for Dean to carry her torches and ideals subtly because,

The Dad, John, was emotionally absent. John became a hunter to get revenge, but a great deal of his displaced anger fell on the cursed child he even tried to command Dean to kill if he had to.

The Cursed Child, Sam, had this yellow eyed curse following him around which they even find it WHY Mary burned, much less the Luciferian path waiting for him.

His Big Brother, Dean, “had to be a mother, and I had to be a father, all to keep him safe. And that wasn’t fair.” But he did it. And he loved his little brother. With mother lost to death and father lost to grief, Dean stepped forward to be everything they couldn’t or wouldn’t.

But this same cycle hits us later. We often speak of “Team Free Dads”, and I mean, sure, Jack calls all of Team Free Will his dads, and why wouldn’t he, I mean, nobody’s really broken down advanced gender sciences to even adult team free will much less little Jack, Cas for example despite being an agender being in a masculine vessel has long accepted masculine pronouns because of the sex of his vessel, etc. So easy. They’re my dads.

This fandom has often argued over who is more dad. Honestly, all three are equally *parents*, but there is a point I would like to make.

The Mom, Castiel, was dead. He was the nurturing inner spirit and served as a sense of conscience both before and after he returned for Jack to carry his torches and ideals subtly, but before Cas came back,

The Dad, Dean, was emotionally absent. His anger and grief was displaced on the cursed child that Castiel died helping birth into the world, who’s yellow eyes looked at him while Castiel knew the child within the womb, and eventually, the Allfather would even command the Dad to kill the Cursed Child years later. Again.

But the Cursed Child, Jack, had that yellow eyed curse, and suffering through his dark and luciferian parentage and struggling to find himself.

His Big Brother, Sam, had to be a mother and to be a father, to keep him safe during season 13. Neither Castiel or Dean were available, be it literally or emotionally, to provide and Sam had to take care of him until they could come back.

Over time, this tracked differently, because Castiel came back a HELLA lot earlier than Mary did. Mary took a lifetime, Castiel took a few months. Jack got to actually grow with the Mother, and the Father started to heal, and the Big Brother could take a healthier balance in this but still maintained his connection.

The reason I am slow to say this, like, ever, is I know there are people that would warp this into me prescribing gender roles--but actually, it’s the opposite. Hell, Dad is the one that does the things culture would determine some of the motherly: the cooking and cleaning etc; Mom in this instance is a whirlwind rebel soldier that can still take off in a blur. And frankly, this removes “uncle Sam” making him feel detached. Because I’m sorry, in Supernatural, “Big Brother” is inarguably THE most important parental role. He’s not Mom and he’s not Dad, but he’s Big Brother. And that’s what it’s all about in the end, isn’t it?

And frankly, I find if people start seeing this as Maternal, Paternal and Fraternal connections, a lot of other things gain sudden lucidity. When Castiel sighs tiredly at Jack, it’s a mom sigh, I’m sorry. When Castiel takes either side of Jack’s face and stares into it in Byzantium while sending him back to earth, it’s a mom look, I’m sorry. No, AngryMcPostTwister, that’s not saying that men can’t have gentle looks or any particular thing someone will try to vibrate themselves into, but there’s literally an energy to each of these moments that show the nurturing vs mentoring roles in either.

And that’s not about sex or gender but with Cas about a certain sort of nurturing personality trait they have, or with Dean a very teaching-forward strength, or with Sam a very balanced emotive connection.

Together they make a three person parental unit that is familiar, but far healthier than its original form, and part of why we’ve come to adore Team Free Dads so much. It’s what we wish Sam and Dean COULD have had. And ultimately, it’s -- to put it in Dean’s words -- “very progressive” in the family structure. 

[mostlycompetentwriter]

Start Line (Part One of Two)

M/F Pairing: Fem!Reader x Bang Chan (SKZ)

Warnings: Language

Word Count: 7.2K

Genre: Boys over Flowers AU! Strangers to enemies to potential lovers!

Summary: Starting a new school is never easy, but the four rich and popular boys who pretend like they’re above the rest of the student population? Well, that makes everything even worse.

A/N: You don’t need to watch the show to understand, but it might be fun! AKA this is a Kdrama recommendation. 

Also, I’m super sorry to the anonymous user who asked for this and probably impatiently waited for me to get a grip!!! 

Tagging @skzwriternet​

For my entire life, I’ve had to work harder than everyone else to secure the things that I wanted the most. 

Which is why nothing could enrage me more than the sight of the four boys sitting on the bleachers together in my new school’s gymnasium.

I had just recently transferred into the school on a swimming scholarship, and a young student assistant offered to give me a tour of the facilities before my first day of scheduled classes. Her name was Suzy, and she had enough intel on the school’s population that even the CIA would be jealous. 

I wasn’t normally one for drama, but Suzy’s warning about the school’s infamously named “F4″ was enough to leave me feeling cautious: “You see those guys over there?” she had asked when we sat down together on the bleachers. “It’s fair to say that they run the school, so most people try to avoid pissing them off.”

The boys in question were all starters for the school’s accolade-heavy basketball team. Apparently, that meant a lot in this affluent and well-endowed community, and I could tell that they considered themselves with the highest regard. Especially the oldest, a handsome blonde whose killer accent was surely the ruin of any one of those poor girls who flocked around them like they were desperate for attention.

“Bang Chan,” Suzy informed me. “He’s the leader, and his family owns an entire line of luxury hotel chains.”

“I guess that means something special?” I remarked, and Suzy gave me a curious look. 

“His family owns the school, but if we’re talking worth, then his parents pretty much own this whole town.”

“So, he takes advantage of that,” I noted, and Suzy nodded her head before indicating to the other three boys.

“They’ve all been friends since they were kids, but everyone knows that Chan and Changbin are super close.”

“Changbin?” I questioned, and Suzy pointed to the introspective and sullen-looking student who was ignoring all of the other girls with narrowed dark eyes. 

“His parents died when he was young,” she explained. “He lives with his grandfather.”

“Oh?” I wondered, and I looked at Changbin again with a fresh perspective - as someone who had experienced trauma that would follow him for the rest of his life.

“Felix and Minho are the real fuckboys,” Suzy continued. “They’re notorious for the weekend rule.”

“The weekend rule?”

“Find a college party, hook-up with a nameless girl, and then leave her before she’s too attached.”

“Fuck boys,” I grumbled in agreement, and Suzy sighed as if she had personal experience...but I seriously doubted that someone of her caliber would stoop so low knowing full well what kind of reputation she was dealing with.

“The entire school is at their beck and call,” she said. “They do whatever they want, and nobody ever questions them.”

“Well, I’m here to graduate and find a good college for swimming,” I said, meeting Chan’s gaze from a distance. “I don’t have time for games.”

The ominous faction leader smirked as he held my stare, eyeing me up and down with a flicker of interest that I chose to ignore when Suzy asked if I wanted to finish the rest of our tour.

Day One

On my first day of classes, Suzy was kind enough to stick close to my side, although I was beginning to see that she wasn’t very popular, and we were mostly ignored by the rest of the populace. Which was just fine with me.

“Check it out!” she exclaimed. “Our schedules are almost identical.”

“I’m glad,” I said, ducking my head to avoid a couple of rough-housing football players who were “playfully” knocking each other into the lockers. “I’m pretty sure you could get lost in here.”

“Well, ideally, most students start here in Elementary school, and they stay all the way through High School,” Suzy said. 

“A pretentious education at its finest,” I remarked, wondering how much money was literally walking by me with every Luis Vuitton bag and Gucci-made uniform that passed in opposing directions. 

“Do you start swimming after school?” Suzy asked, making easy conversation as we entered our first classroom - advanced biology.

“Yeah,” I said, following Suzy to the back of the room. “There’s a tournament this weekend.”

“Already?” Suzy gasped, and she plopped down into one of the desks next to me. “Will you have enough time to practice?”

“I’ll be fine,” I reassured her, reaching for a spare notebook as the teacher walked in to begin one of the most intense lectures that I had ever attended.

But the school’s Academic reputation was no joke, and I imagined that they hired the finest teachers that the school’s infinite endowment could afford - a budget that would eclipse the remainder of the public schools in the district. Yet, no one seemed to blink an eye at how obviously unfair that was, as if these well-off students deserved a high-class education simply because their parents made more money than they could spend.

My new socio-economic environment was becoming more and more apparent, and I was suddenly feeling every part of the outcast who wandered into the wrong part of town with good intentions. But a moralistic attitude would get you nowhere in life if everyone else refused to acknowledge the fact. 

I learned quickly that the students at this school were only looking after themselves, but the lesson was hard to accept. Which might explain my uncharacteristic heroism when it came to defending Suzy later on that afternoon when she agreed to give me a ride home after swim practice.

I was outside, sending a message to my mom, when I noticed a black SUV careening backwards at a speed that was far too fast. Meanwhile, Suzy had settled down inside the car to start the ignition, messing with the dials on the radio, when a powerful jolt sent her jerking forward. “What the hell?” Suzy shrieked, turning around in her seat only to startle with that “deer in the headlights” look of absolute horror.

“Shit!!” she cursed, and I watched her get out of the car before taking a deep breath and joining her on the opposite side of her smashed trunk where a huge crowd of students had started to gather around us.

They were talking rapidly amongst themselves, and I figured out why they were so interested the minute Bang Chan and one of his friend - Felix, perhaps? - walked up to Suzy with a bored expression. “You do this often?” were the first words I ever heard from Chan. “I can’t believe you got in my way.”

Suzy immediately bowed her head - submitting to the older Senior. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, but I couldn’t stand to watch her expose her most vulnerable position. 

“Hey!” I shouted, walking around Suzy’s crumbled form to stand toe-to-toe with the infamous Bang Chan.

“You must be the new girl,” Chan remarked, eyeing me up and down with vague interest. “I kinda expected something more when I saw you the other day...”

I seethed when his gaze fell lower, as if pointing out something that only hormonal teenage boys would care about. “I’m not here to impress you,” I replied, and he arched one brow.

“I don’t need to be impressed,” Chan said. “But your little friend disrespected me, and I think she should apologize.”

“You’re the one who wasn’t looking!” I snapped. “Anyone with eyes could see that you were too busy on your phone to pay attention!”

There was a collective conversation from the crowd, and Chan studied the growing conglomeration of students surrounding our confrontation. “Do you have proof of that? Or, is it your word against mine?”

“Someone with any sense of dignity wouldn’t act this way,” I countered, and Chan immediately started laughing.

“Oh? Isn’t that cute,” he said, eyes crinkling at the corners. “You have a lot to learn around here.”

“The only thing I’ve learned is to stay away from you,” I said, and Chan rolled his eyes like it was the dumbest thing he had ever heard.

And the torment only continued.

“Hey!” I snapped when he knocked his shoulder against mine, coming to stand in front of Suzy again with disdain.

“Pay for the damages,” he ordered. “And then apologize to me.”

“Chan-” Suzy started, but I grabbed his shoulder and forced him to turn around. 

“I wasn’t finished,” I said, and our noses almost brushed from the minimal distance I allowed between us. 

“I don’t want to hear anything else about your idea of honor or whatever,” Chan sneered, but he paused when I held up my phone, pressing the play button on the video which provided convincing evidence of the incident.

“What about this?” I asked him, and I could practically see him come undone.

“Give that to me!” he demanded, but I took several steps away from him, returning my cellphone to my pocket. 

“But I’m sure the police would be interested in seeing it.”

Chan’s eyes perceptibly widened, and I felt a surge of triumph in knowing that I had the upper hand. “You wouldn’t.”

“Try me,” I taunted him, briefly glancing over my shoulder at his friend who had started snickering - like he was enjoying our fight. 

“Fine,” Chan huffed. “What do you want?”

“You’ll pay for the damages to my friend’s car,” I said. “And...”

“And?” Chan snapped, clearly impatient.

“You can apologize to her instead,” I finished, and there were several consecutive gasps from the student population.

“Is he gonna do it?”

“There’s no way Chan will give in!!”

“Someone film this!”

My smile continued to widen at the jeers of my classmates, and Chan was finally at his wits end, spinning around on his heels to growl an imperceptible attempt at an apology to Suzy who could only look at him in awe. “We’re done here,” Chan said, and I shrugged nonchalantly, watching him storm away with his friend in tow behind him.

I sighed once they were both gone, feeling a sense of profound justice after proving that even the great Bang Chan could be defeated, but then Suzy appeared in front of me with a grave look in her eyes that told me this whole ordeal was far from over. “Y/N,” she whispered. “What have you done?”

Day Three

The next morning, I walked to my locker feeling every gaze turned in my direction. I frowned at each of them, wondering if this was the aftermath from the incident with Chan and his stupid friends. Yet, when I finally paused in front of my locker, an uncomfortable sensation of dread sent me into a cold sweat when I saw what was taped to the front of the door. 

It was a red card with a black skull at the top and the infamous “F4″ written across the bottom.

“She got the card!” someone announced from off to the side, and it didn’t take long for other students to rush in my direction.

“The card?” I whispered to myself, remembering Suzy’s previous warnings concerning the exploits of the F4 boys. It wasn’t an accident that I had received this ominous warning, and I knew that I was in trouble.

Quickly, I darted through one of the exits leading outside, placing me somewhere on a small veranda where I leaned against the bannister overlooking the school’s athletic fields. “What the hell is wrong with this place!” I screeched, projecting my voice across the fields, and I didn’t expect anyone to hear me...

“Why the hell are you screaming?” 

I paused at the sudden question, widening my eyes when I realized it was closer than I expected. “You come up here often?”

I staggered backward at the interjection, spinning around to locate the voice that had uttered the simple question. “Hello?”

There was a sigh, and then a familiar sweep of brown hair appeared from around the corner. “This is my spot, you know?”

“No,” I said, cringing at my tone. “I’m sorry, I had no idea.”

The recipient in question was none other than Changbin, one of the four members of the school’s notorious F4. His dark black hair was wind-swept across his forehead, falling in thin strands over attentive brown eyes while he leaned against the wall of the small patio sectioned off from the rest of the veranda. “Lesson learned,” Changbin continued, swaggering up the stairs to stand next to me, looking out over the playing fields. “I guess I can’t come here anymore.”

“What do you mean?” I found myself asking without really thinking about what it might look like to show that I was concerned. After all, he was a member of the same F4 that had just terrorized me with their stupid calling card.

“You’re here,” Changbin replied as if the answer might suffice. “I have a feeling this place will be too loud.”

He sighed then before starting for the exit. “W-wait!” I stuttered, unable to put together a logical sentence before Changbin was already walking back inside.

But Changbin’s unexpected appearance proved to be the least of my problems.

For the remainder of the afternoon, I faced an onslaught of humiliation courtesy of my classmates. Everything from jeers between classes, to more insulting pranks like decorating the desk on my homeroom classroom with vulgar language and pictures.

Yet, worst of all was coming face to face with Bang Chan himself who smiled some kind of sickening smirk at me before quietly asking if I had had enough of the torment. “This is nothing,” I growled at him.

“Oh? Well, it’s only gonna get worse,” Chan promised, and he left without another word, leaving me to stew over a powerful combination of anxiety and frustration.

However, Chan’s idea of worse was, indeed, inexcusable. And I nearly screamed when I went to swim that afternoon, only to discover the pool littered with trash. But there was nobody around to help, and I spent the entirety of my scheduled practice time cleaning up with water, wrinkling my nose at a few questionable banana peels.

“I guess he went through with it,” a familiar voice interrupted my trash session, beaming through the haze of disgust lingering with every brush of my fingers across sodden newspaper or moldy plates.

“What are you doing here?” I demanded of Felix and Minho - the infamous duo who were practically glued to Chan’s side.

“We just wanted to meet you,” Felix said, and I watched through narrowed eyes as they brought over chairs from the side to sit down at the poolside.

I frowned. Couldn’t they help? “Why are you interested?” I asked instead, bringing another load of trash to the edge.

“Well, it’s been awhile since anyone stood up to Chan,” Minho explained, and there was a playfulness in his gaze that left me feeling uneasy in concern to their real intentions.

“Doing what’s right shouldn’t make me a martyr,” I said.

“But it does,” Felix replied with a cheeky smile. “He’s gonna keep up the torture, you know,” he continued, waving his hand around to indicate the trash still floating on top of the chlorine-caked water. 

“Forever?” I grimaced, hating that the word had slipped free without really thinking about what it would mean to admit such things to Chan’s friends.

Minho smiled, looking up at something over my shoulder. “I’m surprised to see you here, Changbin?”

I turned around as if it was instinctual, watching the same person from earlier on the veranda walk inside from the locker room. He seemed even more out of place than Minho and Felix, studying the pollution of trash swimming with me. “She’s interesting,” Changbin said, and I was surprised when my stomach did a few somersaults at his confession.

“I agree,” Felix inserted, leaning back against his elbows with his shirt sleeves rucked up high on his forearms. “It’s been a while since Chan has been this invested in something.”

“It would be nice if he could stop,” I grumbled, and I met Changbin’s sincere gaze as he knelt down next to the poolside.

“He’ll give up when he thinks you won’t back down,” Changbin finally decided, and I watched as he started gathering the trash floating in his direction.

Day Seven

In hindsight, my imagination ran wild with scenarios that were more insane with each progressive image that crossed through my head. 

But what could you expect from someone who had just figured out that she was being followed by three burly men wearing suits like they were the Men in Black. 

Each time I started to walk faster, they would also do the same. Until it got to the point where I was zigzagging around corners, doing my best to dodge out of their sight, only to find myself once again confronted with the strange men who had no intentions of leaving me alone.

Eventually, I paused on the sidewalk outside of the school’s entrance. I was running late that morning, which meant nobody else was around to witness this madness. But I was a strong, independent woman with a a no-nonsense attitude that compelled me to project my voice across the well-polished front lawn. “Excuse me, gentlemen,” I began, holding up my hands when they grew closer. “What seems to be the problem?”

“We have orders to bring you to our boss,” they said, which only confused me even more.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I don’t know who you’re talking about?”

“Our apologies, miss,” the first man continued. “We were informed that you might try to resist.”

“Like I’m just gonna skip school and leave with a couple of strangers who have no conception of personal space,’ I glowered, but when I tried to spin around on my heel, I found myself colliding with an enormous chest, and I sighed, realizing that they had clearly been distracting me long enough for the third guard to sneak up behind me. “Fine,” I muttered, rolling my eyes when he grabbed my arm, leading me to the sleek black car running at the front of the school.

From there, my day only continued to grow even weirder, especially when I found myself walking up the steps of a gigantic mansion that looked like it could grace the cover of Vanity Fair magazine.

“Where am I?” I tried to ask, but the guards ignored my question, bringing me inside the house where I felt a twinge of misplaced guilt for treading my dirty sneakers across the pristine marble floors that practically shined with my reflection looking back at me.

“Greetings, miss,” a friendly tone greeted me, and I studied the older gentleman who dismissed the guards with a wave of his wrinkled hand. He was dressed impeccably in a suit with a long coat-tail, balding gray hair styled atop his head in a delicate swoop.

“What’s going on?” I demanded, but the butler was silent as he indicated for me to follow him. Down the crowded corridors, decorated with large, extravagant paintings, and down the granite staircase descending to the floor in a circular pattern.

Down a stretch of never-ending hallway that led to a bedroom at the end where two younger women - identically matched in uniform - greeted me by name before ushering me inside.

“Can you at least tell me where I am?” I asked the butler who followed us inside, giving out instructions as I was forced onto a stool in front of a vanity mirror, wincing when the woman immediately started to yank a brush through my long hair.

“This might take a while,” she said, and I frowned at her tone, coughing when a fresh puff of powder was streaked across my face - compliments of another girl who had a palate of make-up balanced on her hand like it was a paint tray and my skin was her canvas.

“I’d like to know something,” I insisted, but I was met with silence, crossing my arms across my chest as I resigned myself to the unexpected makeover since it was a thousand times better than my earlier scenarios where I envisioned myself dying from a James Bond-esque death.

It was only a half-hour later when the women declared themselves finished, standing back to admire their work while I had a staring contest with the girl looking back at me in the mirror. Because it was hard to believe that it was me with neat ringlets decorating my scalp, and sticky globs of mascara and foundation hiding the blemishes on my face.

I looked amazing, but it wasn’t really me. Still, I wasn’t given much time to study my new appearance, and I hesitated when the butler extended a black dress in my direction. “Our boss wants you to wear this,” he informed me, and I hesitantly accepted the expensive fabric.

“Who’s your boss?” I tried once more, but the butler simply smiled at me before waiting outside for me to get dressed, and I squeezed myself into the exquisite gown that swept the floor at my feet, hugging my curves and accentuating my figure in ways that my sweatpants and t-shirts couldn't.

When I finally walked back out, the butler smiled at me in approval before waving his hand in a grand fashion. “He’s waiting in the living room.”

I swallowed hard, following him once again through the maze of the house while wondering who I might be meeting. A rich donor? A potential Sugar Daddy?

They were all grand ideas that proved to be far better than the truth, and I could only gape in surprise when I was led into the living room, only to meet Chan’s eager gaze from across the expanse of white, designer-brand carpet.

“You!” I hissed in an accusing tone, watching the butler leave from the corner of my eye.

“Were you expecting someone else?” Chan asked, eliminating the distance between us with a few calculating steps. “They were right about the dress. You actually clean-up nice, Y/N.”

I scoffed at the backwards compliment. “Are you serious?” I nearly growled. “You kidnapped me for this?!”

Chan looked at me in disbelief, and I wondered if it was the first time that he had ever been rendered silent. “Do I not get a thank you?”

“A thank you?” I repeated. Incredulous.

“I brought you here,” Chan said, but he was clearly hesitating. “I thought you might like the attention? The clothes aren’t to your taste?”

“Shit, you’re dense,” I muttered. “Why the hell would you think that?”

“It’s obvious,” Chan said. “Talking down to me the other day, pretending like you aren’t affected by the F4 card...you just wanted my attention. And guess what, Y/N? I’m willing to give it to you.”

I blinked once, trying to understand his ridiculous train of bullshit. “What?!”

“You can be my girlfriend,” Chan said, shrugging one shoulder. “It’s a pretty big deal, but I’m sure you know that. I’ll even let you hold my hand between classes, and maybe come to your swim meets or whatever.”

“Chan...” I started, but then I broke off with a sigh because nothing I could think of seemed like an appropriate response. “I don’t think there’s even a remote chance that I would want to be your girlfriend.” I shivered, releasing a groan just saying the title. “Whatever you think is happening…it’s totally warped inside that screwed up head of yours.”

“Y/N-”

“Please,” I interrupted him, holding up one hand. “I’ve had enough, okay? I just want to go home.”

“But...” Chan tried to protested, stuttering around his words when I yanked off the expensive heels, chucking them off to the side. “How could you not want this?” he asked. “The outfit itself cost over $1,000 dollars.”

“$1,000 dollars?” I repeated, widening my eyes when I thought about how many hours my parents would need to put in at our local laundromat business to even make close to the amount he just threw away like it was nothing. “Chan, I might not live in the same world as you, but where I come from? You don’t make friends with money...you make them from the heart.”

“Impossible!” Chan protested, even as I turned my back to him. “Money can buy anything!”

“Is that why I’m leaving?” I returned, reaching down to hold my dress in place while feeling a small sense of satisfaction at having left Chan completely speechless.

Of course, in hindsight, I probably shouldn’t have tossed the shoes because the cement was hot against the soles of my feet, and I had attracted more than one curious look as I stormed down the street in search of the main road to take me back home.

“Stupid moron,” I huffed, practically jogging down the road with bare feet and my dress hiked up my legs to prevent me from tripping over the train. It was probably a sight for sore eyes when it came to the rich socialites who populated the neighborhood.

But like the sun’s rays penetrating the clouds on a rainy afternoon, I heard the sound of a motorcycle growing closer from behind me. Until the bike was right next to me, and the driver removed his helmet to expose a familiar bush of brown locks.

“Do you need a ride home?” Changbin asked, and I swallowed hard as I met his steady gaze. It was a simple question, but the fact that he didn’t even question me about why I was here? Nor could I detect any judgement in those impenetrable brown eyes that held all the allure, sending my heart knocking against my breastbone once again.

“Yeah,” I agreed, taking the extra helmet from him. “It’s been a shitty day.”

“I know how that feels,” Changbin said, and I was surprised by his easy conversation, planting myself on the seat behind him.

“Thank you for this,” I said, wrapping my arms around his waist and shivering at the thick smell of his cologne.

“It seems like you might be worth the effort,” Changbin remarked before kicking his bike into gear, and my heart did something strange that might be considered very dangerous when it involved the F4.

But I couldn’t help it, and I had never been more at ease this close to someone else.

Day Ten

Despite my adamant protests, the school insisted that I needed to take a physical education course, which meant that I was forced to pretend to enjoy dodgeball with the rest of my classmates. Hiding out at the back while most of the other girls did all the hard work. But I was only meant for one sport, and dodgeball was as far from swimming as one could get.

It helped that Suzy had gym at the same time, and we talked between games, with Suzy leading most of the conversation.as she offered introductions for most of our other classmates. “Mandy,” Suzy grumbled at one point, indicating to a tall blonde with long legs and a permanent sneer. “She thinks that she somehow has a chance to be with Chan, even though he’s kinda made it obvious that he doesn’t think anyone here is good enough.”

“Really?” I snorted, seeking Chan out from the corner of my eye, playing basketball on the courts with the rest of the F4. 

“It’s a running thing here,” Suzy continued. “But most people don’t even try since they don’t want to get on Mandy’s bad side.”

“Whatever,” I replied, averting my gaze when Chan’s eyes met mine. “He’s not even worth it.”

“Most of our classmates would disagree,” Suzy said with a shrug, nudging her shoulder against mine when one of the instructors ordered us to begin the second round.

As usual, I lingered at the the sidelines away from my team, making a half-hearted attempt to play along, especially since I seemed to be a recurring target, using other bodies to protect myself from stray plastic dodgeballs. “What the hell,” I grumbled, wondering if that stupid F4 card was to blame for my classmate’s sudden desire to single me out from everyone else.

I crossed my arms at the thought, finding myself once again looking back over at Chan...Did he think it was funny to make me a target of ridicule? Well, at least Changbin was being surprisingly nice, and just the mere mention of the older boy was enough to do crazy things to my poor heart.

But lost in my daydreams, I failed to notice that Mandy and one of her friends had stalked to the edge of the court, rearing back to throw their dodgeballs at me while I was distracted. “Y/N!” I heard Suzy’s voice scream from across the field, and I looked away from Chan only to find myself frozen in place while a dodgeball flew in my direction.

The sickening CRACK! of the stupid thing hitting my nose was audible, and I immediately tasted blood on my upper lip. “Go clean yourself up, Miss Y/L/N,” one of the instructors said, but I was furious that she was treating the situation so nonchalantly.

It was all Chan’s fault. Even if he hadn't thrown the ball, he empowered his classmates to belittle me at every opportunity, and I was tired of being the school’s metaphorical punching bag. And I hated the tears threatening to fall, refusing to show any signs of weakness as I stormed past Suzy for the girl’s bathroom.

“Fuck,” I cursed as I leaned over the sink, splashing some cold water on my face as I looked at my bloody and mangled reflection in the mirror. 

This was the worst incident so far, and I hated that the situation had escalated to something physical, gripping the edge of the sink tightly as I closed my eyes to regain control over my breathing.

“Here,” a voice whispered from behind me, and I turned around with a glare already contorting my expression when I was forced to face Bang Chan once again.

“It’s your fault,” I replied, snatching the paper towel from him as I dabbed at my nose. “What the hell are you doing in the girl’s bathroom?”

“I’m sorry,” Chan said, but I refused to believe it was sincere, turning back around to check the damage of my nose in the mirror. “You didn’t deserve that.”

“You can’t be sorry after the fact,” I snapped. “You had every chance to make things right and leave me the hell alone.”

“Well, I can’t do that now...” Chan trailed off, and it was surprising to see him suddenly look so unsure of himself. “I'm just trying to help...”

“And who asked you to do that?” I returned, looking at him from the corner of my eye. “Even if you were the last person on Earth, I would never ask for your help!”

My exclamation was punctuated by a rather harsh sound after I shoved the paper towels into the trashcan, preparing to leave the bathroom before Chan grabbed my arm to turn me back around. “What do you dislike so much?” Chan whined. “I don’t understand...I’m rich, handsome, smart...”

“All of it!” I interrupted with a harsh tone, and Chan immediately stumbled back against the sink. “You must not realize, but do you think those things matter to me? Because I can’t even consider them when your entire personality is unattractive! Your arrogant attitude, your stupid face, and that ridiculous curly hair!!”

“Are you insane?” Chan asked, and his bewildered expression would be funny under any other circumstances.

“I’m not done yet,” I sharply interjected. “It annoys me that you guys are allowed to do whatever you want at this school, and the whole red card deal? Where you give everyone a free pass to bully other students? Like it’s nothing? That’s the absolute worst thing about you!!”

“Y/N...”

“Do I need to repeat it?” I interrupted once more. “I hate everything about you!”

The harsh exclamation was met by silence as Chan continued to stare at me, and I decided to leave him alone in silence to think about everything I had said, rejoining my classmates with a sense of relief at having stood up to someone who considered himself as better than everyone else.

Day Fourteen

“You should come with me,” Suzy remarked one afternoon, sitting next to the poolside with me as I swam my regular laps. 

“I’d rather not,” I said, pausing at the edge of the pool to consider her request - a night under the stars, as the school’s dance team had proclaimed it, and it was one of the biggest school events of the year.

“Why?” Suzy whined. “The F4 revoked your red card, and you can meet some more people...maybe even score some connections.”

“Right,” I scoffed, thinking the idea absurd, but I guess it wouldn’t seem so outrageous to the ones who had been dealing with these politics for their entire lives. “I’m not really that outgoing.”

“It’s okay,” Suzy reassured me, and I could tell that she really wanted me to come with her, which is probably why I felt compelled to agree. But her smile and cheering was worth it, especially considering just how good of a friend Suzy had proven to be during the past two weeks.

And that’s how I found myself walking up to the school’s gymnasium that weekend, wearing an uncomfortable black dress that Suzy had agreed to lend me for the occasion. “You look hot, Y/N,” Suzy said, and I didn’t have the heart to tell her that my reflection reminded me too much of the time when Chan had brought me to his house to play dress-up.

“I can hear the music all the way out here,” I said, following Suzy up the gym steps.

“Yeah, this event isn’t regulated by the teachers, so it’s basically a free-for-all,” Suzy explained, and I desperately wished that I could find the appeal in that statement, especially once we entered the building, washing us in neon colors of purple and pink. “Let’s dance!” Suzy immediately cried, pulling me to the dance floor despite my protests.

Thankfully, I only had to awkwardly navigate the party scene for one song before Suzy became preoccupied with a very cute Senior boy from our homeroom. I was able to sneak away to the punch bowl, ladling some of the red liquid into my cup before bringing it to my lips. “Hmm,” I wondered, eyeing the drink because it tasted so familiar...”Oh well,” I said, shrugging as I proceeded to drain several more cups before sinking down against the wall, never noticing that a pair of eyes had been watching my every movement until a pair of Versace-toed boots stopped in front of me. 

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” Chan remarked, and I was shocked that he had the guts to talk to me after honoring my request to be ignored for the past several days.

“What do you want?” I grumbled, reluctantly taking his outstretched hand to help me stand again because my vision was unusually blurry and my stomach was churning.

“The punch was spiked,” Chan said, chucking at my disheveled state.

“Spiked?” I repeated, finding myself totally incoherent as I leaned most of my weight against him. “When did that happen?”

“The Seniors do it as a prank,” Chan said, and his gaze seemed to soften as he held me close. “Do you want to sit down?”

“That would be nice,” I slurred, allowing him to guide me over to the bleachers where I dropped down with a thud!

“Damn, you’re pretty wasted,” Chan said, looking me over with an uncharacteristic amount of concern.

“I didn’t know...” I trailed off, pointing back at the punch bowl. “It tasted so good.”

“I bet it did,” Chan said, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he cleared his throat. “I saw that you came with your friend, but maybe you might want some company?”

“Sure!” I said, patting the space next to me. “You’ve caught me in a good mood.”

Chan grinned - a genuine smile that I could hardly recognize - as he sat down with a sigh. “This doesn’t really seem like your type of scene.”

“Not really,” I agreed, narrowing my eyes when the room started swaying. “But you’re not my usual type of person.”

“Right,” Chan agreed, chuckling awkwardly as he messed up his hair - straightened instead of curly. “Maybe we could go somewhere else?”

I frowned because, even though I might’ve been a little more than tipsy, I still remembered that I didn’t like Chan, and there was no reason for me to go anywhere with him. “Are you intentionally ignoring everything I said from the other day?”

“No,” Chan murmured. “But I was hoping that I could give you space...and maybe a chance to prove myself?”

“Really?” I snorted. “How much have you changed since the last time we talked?”

“Probably not much,” Chan acknowledged, much to my surprise. “But after everything you said, maybe I’d like to? And I feel like you’re the only person who can be honest enough to help me.”

“Oh,” I replied, slightly disconcerted by Chan’s abrupt change in attitude. “Still, after everything you did...”

“I know I don’t deserve it,” Chan quickly agreed. “But I think you’re one of the rare kinds of people who believes in second chances.”

I exhaled loudly at his words, and in part to keep myself from throwing up after all the alcohol I ingested. “Where would we go?”

“What about a date at the diner downtown?” Chan asked, swallowing hard. “With me?”

“Let’s not call it a date,” I grimaced, and Chan agreed, even though it seemed to be a reluctant remission on his part. “But, yeah, that actually might be nice.”

“Perfect!” Chan said, and he was already on his feet with an energy that was impossible to ignore. “I’ll have Changbin tell your friend. Wait right here, and I’ll come back.”

“Okay,” I muttered, clutching my stomach as I watched Chan run off into the crowd. “Jeez, Y/N,” I groaned. “What are you doing with this guy?”

It might be one of the worst decisions of my life, but something he said struck a nerve deep inside of me. He might be unbearable, but he was right about one thing: people could always change, and I was the type of person who allowed second chances...just as long as someone was willing to earn it and prove themselves.

“Are we taking your car?” I asked, staggering against Chan’s hold as he brought us outside the gym.

“Yeah,” he said. “We can take my car, and you can sober up on the way.”

“Good idea,” I agreed, regretting the decision to drink so much of that stupid punch with every swaying step towards Chan’s expensive sports car.

He had the decency to open the door for me, and I fell inside with a grunt, waiting for him to turn over the ignition before he started fussing over me. “Do you need anything? Something to drink? Are you hot or cold? Should I turn on the music?”

“Don’t ask questions,” I gritted out - a response to everything while I leaned my head against the window.

“Got it,” Chan said, and he dutifully followed through on his promise, never speaking again until we pulled into the parking lot of the diner he had advertised earlier. “Do you feel any better?”

I nodded, an honest response. Because the drive had taken close to twenty minutes, and I had found a water bottle in the floor, downing the contents to settle my stomach and the wave of nausea that only alcohol could bring. “We can go inside,” I said, rolling my eyes when he made a show of coming around to help me out of the car, grabbing my arm despite my protests. “What is this place?” I asked when we walked inside, choosing an empty table near the back.

“My friends come here a lot,” Chan replied. “It’s quiet.”

“Quiet?” I laughed. “There’s no way it’s quiet if the whole school comes here.”

“They don’t,” Chan said, surprising me yet again. “Nobody knows we come here.”

He gave me a meaningful look, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out that he was risking a lot by entrusting me with their secret. “Got it,” I said, miming myself closing a zipper across my lips (perhaps that was the drunkenness affecting my judgement).

But Chan still laughed, and then he went to the counter to order, leaving me to contemplate what the actual hell I was doing with the school’s literal celebrity who treated most people like shit, including me for a short while at the very beginning.

At this point, I really couldn’t blame the alcohol. So, what was wrong with me? Why was I doing this?

“Here,” Chan said, dropping a mug of something sweet down in front of me, effectively interrupting my internal conflict.

“Hot chocolate?” I asked, and I was definitely caught off-guard as Chan shrugged and sat down in front of me.

“I thought you might prefer this,” he admitted.

“Oh...” I started, searching for a good response. “Thanks?”

“You’re welcome,” Chan said, and he smiled as he watched me taste the foam resting on top. “Is it good?”

“It’s nice,” I admitted, and Chan had the appearance of someone who had just landed an acceptance to their dream college.

“You’re different from the others,” Chan said, switching the topic. “I like that about you, and it makes me regret everything I’ve done even more.”

“Yeah,” I huffed. “That red card shit needs to stop.”

“I agree,” Chan said, bringing his mug even closer. “My friends have wanted to stop for a while...”

“They’re way smarter than you,” I said, tilting my head to the side as if it might give me a different vantage point of the confusing boy sitting in front of me. “Did you really want to come here with me?”

Chan nodded, eyes gleaming. “You’re interesting,” he decided, mirroring the exact same thing that Changbin had said to me a while back. “I think I like you a lot, which is why what you said to me at my house and in the bathroom really made me reconsider a lot of things.”

“Oh?” I questioned him, amused by his reasoning, and possibly even endeared by his regretful expression. “I might learn to like you...” I trailed off, laughing at his puppy-dog eyes as he looked at me with obvious desperation. “If you learn to behave.”

“Is that so?” Chan remarked, and his smile was perfectly sincere. “Well, I think you’re the best person to teach me.”

And despite our complicated history together - unwinding after such a brief amount of time in one another’s company - I was more than willing to try for the very strange boy who was starting to show me the intricate layers underneath all the wealth and arrogance - a mere façade for something better, the potential for good if a brave enough person was careful enough to find it.

End of Part One

[hellowkatey]

Febuwhump Day 17

Prompt: truth serum (alternate prompt 1)

Read on AO3

Unpleasant Truths

Anakin opens his mouth to say something but is immediately interrupted.

"Nope," Obi-Wan says with a swift shake of the head that makes a tendril of hair fall into his face. "Not a word, Anakin."

"Oh come on, Master."

"Not. A. Word."

"Do we have anything better to do?"

"Well, no," Obi-Wan says, and then cringes. Anakin has a feeling that wasn't the answer he wanted to give.

Anakin and Obi-Wan sit in adjacent beds of the med bay aboard The Resolute. There was only one private exam room left for them to take up, so they opted to share. While they aren't particularly hurt-- no more than any usual battle-- they were captured and exposed to a particularly potent truth serum. Nobody is really sure what to do with them. Least of all, one another. Anakin supposes his former master figured the lesser evil was to lock them in a room together-- no secrets accidentally being revealed to those without clearance.

However, they don't know how long this serum is supposed to last. They're waiting for Kix to come back with bloodwork.

"How will we know when it's worn off if we don't ask questions?" Anakin suggests. Obi-Wan doesn't look in the least bit amused.

"Because I know you. You're going to ask about things that amuse you or that you want to be nosy about," he raises an eyebrow. "Isn't that right?"

The knight swallows hard, the truth on the tip of his tongue. Of course, he is powerless in preventing it from slipping.

"Yes," he mutters.

"So no talking. We will wait for labs."

"You're no fun," Anakin lays back on the bed and points over at him. "And you know I'm telling the truth about that."

They sit in the prescribed silence for an hour or so before the door opens and Kix comes strolling in with a datapad and a set of IVs.

"Hello generals, how are we doing?"

"Not ideal," Obi-Wan says.

"Bored," Anakin chimes in. Kix looks a tad caught off guard-- maybe not used to them answering so truthfully about their condition. His brown eyes flicker between them before he decides to just give them the report.

"So the good news is the serum appears to be non-lethal. We just have to wait for it to filter out of your systems."

"I assume there is bad news then?" Obi-Wan asks.

"Well... the problem is, it embeds itself into the brain and spinal fluid. I have no way of knowing how long it will be in effect without doing an unnecessarily invasive procedure."

"Well that's..." Obi-Wan trails off, glancing at Anakin. "disappointing."

"Do you have a guess on how long, Kix?"

He seems to wager this in his head. "Six hours? More or less."

Great. There goes my afternoon.

Kix excuses himself, promises to return if they learn anymore. As soon as he's out the door, Obi-Wan lays back, letting his head fall against the pillow, and lets out an exacerbated sigh. Anakin can feel him in the beginnings of meditation, the Force around them drawing into his presence and making it shine like a beacon. And then it releases, and Obi-Wan groans again.

"What's wrong?"

"This blasted drug is muddying up the Force. I can't concentrate."

"Oh no, you might have to spend the next six hours actually conscious," Anakin rolls his eyes.

"Meditating passes the time."

"Talking passes the time."

"Anakin," he sighs.

"Oh yes, what a tragedy to spend time with me."

The Jedi Master looks at him now, his eyebrows knit together. "I like spending time with you, Anakin. Do you think I don't?"

"Well... yeah."

"What could make you think that?"

He bites on his tongue, knowing fully well it won't help a thing. "You... dismiss me. Or seem annoyed by me. Or... I don't know... treat me like I'm still a little kid."

The truth falls heavy between them, and suddenly Anakin wishes they'd stuck to the code of silence. Obi-Wan's face shifts into something that he can only categorize as devastation. Even though it's true that he feels that sometimes his master wants nothing to do with him, he never wanted him to know that.

"Anakin... I'm sorry," he says softly, his eyes trained intensely on him. "I didn't realize..."

"Obi-Wan, don't apologize. I guess... I wanted what you and Qui-Gon had." He remembers fondly the brief memories of a young padawan Obi-Wan and his master. The little looks they had that meant more than they seemed. The inside jokes and synergy when they fought alongside one another. Anakin thinks he and Obi-Wan have some of that. They are two parts of a deadly machine on the battlefield, and they share their own little jokes but sometimes there's just this disconnect. Like he trusts him with his life, but not with the secret of his wife. He doesn't think it's supposed to be this way.

But surprisingly, Obi-Wan stiffens at his comment. Anakin wonders if the serum also makes his body language more readable because he's never seen his master so expressive. "What Qui-Gon and I... Anakin when you told me you thought I didn't like spending time with you, it made me worried that I had grown to be too much like Qui-Gon."

"What do you mean?"

He stares off into space a moment. Obviously fighting against the serum, which only makes Anakin more worried about his answer. Never has he ever heard a bad word about Master Jinn, so he isn't sure what it could have been.

"Qui-Gon and I... had a rocky relationship. He didn't want another padawan, but Yoda was quite insistent. He took me, it was a long time before he accepted me."

"Then... how did you become his padawan?"

"I... well to make a long story short I was willing to detonate a bomb that would kill me but save the agricorps settlement, and I suppose he took that as reassurance I wouldn't let him down," Obi-Wan presses his lips together. "Too bad he was wrong about that."

Now Anakin is sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at his master with confusion. "What do you mean he was wrong?"

"Well, I did leave the order shortly after, which thoroughly shattered his expectations."

"Wait, what?" There is just... so much to unpack in the few things he just revealed. But Obi-Wan looks at him with a face that pleas him to stop. So Anakin relaxes, holding in the urge to ask more questions. "Will you tell me about this when we aren't under truth serum?"

"Yes," he answers. Definitively. Without hesitation. So Anakin nods and sits back on the bed, his head still whirring with questions.

"Can I... ask why you felt Qui-Gon didn't like you? I always thought-- I don't know, that you guys were a team."

He crosses his arms over his chest, focusing on an invisible spot on the ceiling. "We had different ideas of how to do things. That's why Yoda wanted us together. I was an angry and headstrong youngling, and he was a rebel the council needed to find a way to reel in."

Anakin scoffs. "You? Angry?"

A small smile appears on his face. "I packed a nasty right hook in my initiate days. So when I was faced with a Master who disregarded the rules, I assumed the role of the logical rule follower."

"And then you never gave up that role."

"I had punk for a padawan, what else was I to do?"

Anakin looks down at his lap, a small smile on his face.

"Is this why you don't talk about your padawan years very often?"

"The memory of Qui-Gon is... painful. As are many of the experiences I had as a child," he winces.

Well, this is depressing, Anakin thinks, wishing he could ask more but he knows it would be wrong to do so. The mystery of Obi-Wan's past has suddenly been blown right open and he isn't quite sure what to make of it. Left the order? Denied by Qui-Gon? In his head, he had this image of his tiny master, fresh-faced and spouting off Jedi Code at every chance.

"Why does nobody ever talk about that stuff?" Anakin asks, wondering how he's gone over a decade as a Jedi without hearing a word about his master's unusual apprenticeship.

"It wasn't widely known. The council and a few others," Obi-wan stares at him, sadness in his eyes. "But there is no honor in tainting the reputation of the dead."

"But you..." Anakin lets out a shaky breath. "I talked about him all the time. And you never told me?"

"Qui-Gon... was your hero. He saved you, and I- I didn't want that to change for you," he pauses, his face paler now. "Anakin, he wasn't a bad man. He was great Jedi, deeply caring for others and a fantastic master-- I have no doubt had he lived, you two would have made a powerful... and troublesome pair."

Anakin isn't sure what to say about it. He is ashamed of the number of times he was mad at his master and wished a different reality for himself. He doesn't even know the entire extent of whatever Obi-Wan is referring to, but somehow he just... knows.

He's heard rumors before. The story of the Jedi Master who gave up his padawan to train a new initiate he thought was promising. The padawans considered it a horror story to tell when they snuck out of their rooms at night to walk the darkened halls. It took Anakin longer than he's willing to admit to realize the story was about him and Master Jinn's dismissal of Obi-Wan. The way Anakin remembered it was he declared Obi-Wan ready to be a knight and that he would then be free to take Anakin.

Apparently, that wasn't the case. He didn't understand the gravity of the gesture then, and never really thought about it too hard after.

But now... now he thinks about that story again-- that apparently Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon had issues in the past-- and maybe there was a lot more there than he even knows.

"When this is over, will you tell me everything, Master?"

"No," he says. No hesitation or waver in his voice.

"No?"

"There are some things I can't tell you."

"But why?"

To Anakin's surprise, he chuckles. "I am allowed my secrets, just as you are allowed yours."

This, of course, sends Anakin into a bit of internal panic. Is he just assuming I also have secrets or... does he know?

"I guess... that's fair."

"When this is over we will rest, and then I will tell you some things about my apprenticeship. And you may ask whatever questions you have then."

He supposes that's good enough. The nice thing about truth serum is he knows Obi-Wan isn't making empty promises. They leave things there for a while, Anakin falling asleep for a bit, and when he awakes, it's Obi-Wan who is surprisingly dozing off. Five hours pass. Anakin has moved to the end of Obi-Wan's bed to lay diagonally across it on his stomach, and Obi-Wan sits cross-legged against the headboard.

"Have you ever been in love, Master?" Anakin asks, looking up expecting a slap to the back of the head for such a question, but instead Obi-Wan smiles a little bit.

"Would it surprise you if I said yes?"

"Is that a yes?"

"Yes, it is."

Anakin blinks. He had his suspicions, but to hear it aloud...

"The Duchess?"

"Yes."

"And others?"

"A few."

"A few?"

He chuckles.

"To love is not prohibited, it is to put such love ahead of one's duty."

He's never thought about it like that.

"Have you been in love, Anakin?"

"Yes," he says. I'm in love, he thinks to himself.

Obi-Wan hesitates a moment, looking down at him with uncertainty that Anakin thinks he knows the source of. He supposes it's only fair, he's dug into his past relentlessly the past few hours but... his wife isn't just his past, she's his present. His future. Though a part of him wants to tell Obi-Wan about her more than anything, a part of him also knows that his knowing will put him in a horrible position with the council. The secret will undoubtedly come out, and he will be expelled from the Order or be forced to give her up. And nothing can make him give Padmé up.

"Padmé?"

Anakin looks at him. The neutrality of his face just makes him more nervous. He looks his former master dead in the eye.

"Padmé and I... are only close friends, Master."

Obi-Wan nods. Anakin hides his stress by burying his face in the comforter.

Well... looks like the serum has worn off.

Anakin decides to wait another half an hour before he lets Obi-Wan know that, though. Just to be safe.

[stardustanddaffodils]

You And I Will Always Be Back Then

@analogicalweek day 6: Past / Future

Notes: title is from the song “Time Adventure”. The italicized parts are instances from sometime in the past, and the non-italicized parts are corresponding/parallel instances from sometime in the future.

Pairings: romantic Analogical

Word count: 2292

Warnings: cynicism?, bullying, homophobia, crying, struggling to breathe, panic attacks?, (implied?) assault, please tell me if I missed anything

*

“Hello.”

Virgil looked up in surprise. He usually sat alone at recess, and nobody had bothered him so far. That was about to change, apparently, as a boy sat next to him on the grass. Virgil eyed him warily.

“Hi.”

“I’m Logan. What’s your name?” Logan adjusted his glasses.

“Virgil. What do you want?” He didn’t bother with politeness. If there was anything Virgil had learned from school, it was to trust no one. It was better to be alone than to be hurt.

Logan seemed undaunted by Virgil’s unwelcoming attitude. “I saw that you were alone and thought I would try to befriend you. Would you like to be friends?”

“What, just like that?”

“Well, we’d have to build from here. Relationships take time, you know. But… yeah, kinda.”

Virgil wasn’t quite sure how to feel about the offer. It kind of went against the whole shutting-everyone-out-before-they-could-hurt-him thing he had going. But Virgil was also observant—silently watching people from afar tends to help with that—and he noticed the waver in Logan’s professional tone and the insecurity behind the other boy’s composed front. Maybe Logan needed a friend as much as he did.

“Yeah, sure, whatever.” Virgil shrugged, but his indifferent tone did little to dissuade his heart from pounding with hope.

“That sounds ideal.” Logan’s lips twitched into something that looked like a smile. Almost against his will, Virgil smiled back.

*

“L?”

“Salutations, Virgil.”

Logan didn’t even bother to turn his attention from his book. Virgil covered the page with his hand until his boyfriend was forced to look up at him.

“What is it, Starlight?”

“I’m glad you’re studying outside and getting that vitamin D or whatever, but it’s 2 o’clock and you haven’t eaten yet today.”

Logan sighed as though this was a conversation they’d had many times before, which it was. “I can eat after I finish this—”

“Nope. You’re coming now. ”

“Does it really matter if I eat now or in 15 minutes?” Logan sounded exasperated. Virgil tried not to take it personally, he knew Logan was just stressed.

“Because I know you, L, and I know if I let you have ‘15 more minutes’ you’ll get so caught up in your work that you’ll forget to eat until dinner.”

Logan looked like he wanted to argue, but Virgil fixed him with a look and he deflated.

“That is… fair.”

Virgil grinned. “Yep! So, lunch date? We can go to that Mexican place you like.”

Logan closed the book and stood, taking Virgil's hand. “That sounds ideal.”

*

“Virgil, it is far too wet to—Virgil! Come back in!”

Virgil giggled, pushing his sopping bangs out of his face. “It’s perfect puddle weather, Lo! Come outside!”

“You’re going to catch a cold,” Logan warned, but he pulled on his raincoat and stumbled out into the street. Virgil laughed and jumped into another puddle, rain and mud splattering his clothes. He could hear Logan grumbling about the weather and how insensible it was to be outdoors, but rain dripped pleasantly down his face and Virgil let his friend’s concerns slip from his mind as he raced over to the hill on the side of the street, looking back to make sure Logan was still following.

“Virgil,” Logan said as he tripped onto the grass. “Virgil, I can’t see.”

“What do you mean you can’t—ohhh.” The lenses of Logan’s glasses were blurred with rain. Virgil imagined that would impair vision quite a bit. “Here, I’ll help!” He plucked the glasses off of Logan’s face and tried to rub the water off of them with the sleeve of his hoodie. It didn’t work very well, since Virgil’s clothes were soaked through, but he hoped it helped a little. “Okay, try it now!”

Logan clumsily put his glasses back on his face. “It’s a little better, but there’s no way this will last.”

Virgil frowned. Logan was right, his glasses probably wouldn’t stay dry for long. After a minute, he brightened. “I know! I can guide you!”

Logan nodded hesitantly. “Alright.”

Not waiting for any further permission, Virgil grabbed his hand and pulled him down the hill and back to the sidewalk, occasionally yelling helpful things like “Tree on the left—no, right—no, left? One of the sides!” or “Puddle ahead, get ready to splash!” Eventually he turned towards his friend and asked, “Is this—is this really that bad? We can go back home if you’d like….”

Logan sighed and looked at the ground as though that was enough to hide the grin fighting to make its way onto his face. “If you find it enjoyable, I suppose I don’t mind.”

Virgil smirked. “Aw, you’re having fun, aren’t you?”

Logan glowered. “I am not, I was just saying that if you liked it, I’d tolerate it.”

“Nah, you’re definitely having fun,” Virgil decided after studying his best friend a little more.

“I am not!” Logan protested, but the smile on his face betrayed him.

*

“Virgil, come outside!”

“Whyyy?” Virgil whined, making his way into the backyard. “It’s cold.” Logan only beamed and beckoned him closer.

“What’s up?”

“The sky! Look, Virgil!”

Virgil squinted up into the darkness. As his vision adjusted, stars shimmered faintly into view. “Lo, is that what you—”

His statement was cut off by a blur of light passing overhead before blinking out of existence. Virgil gasped. Logan took his hand, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Meteor shower!” he exclaimed giddily. Virgil smiled.

“Quick, take cover,” he singsonged in reply. Logan huffed in amusement and turned his attention back to the stars above. A minute of silence washed over them.

“Do you find the experience… pleasant?”

“Yeah, sure,” Virgil replied. Upon seeing the way Logan’s expression fell he added sincerely, “Yes, Lo. I love this, thank you for showing me.”

Virgil gazed upward, gently squeezing his boyfriend’s hand as stars fell overhead.

*

Virgil’s shoes scuffed against the pavement as he wandered around the blacktop, fingers tracing the wall of the school. It was recess and he usually hung out with Logan, but his friend hadn’t come to the basketball hoop they usually met by and after a few minutes Virgil decided to go look for him. He’d already checked with the teacher for Logan’s previous class, but she said he had gone outside. Logan wouldn’t go somewhere without telling Virgil, so where was he?

Virgil meandered aimlessly until a small, soft, and strangely familiar whimper met his ears. Rounding the corner with a newfound urgency in his step, he finally figured out where his best friend had disappeared to.

Logan was backed against the wall of the school by a kid in their grade—Mason, a moron in Virgil’s science class. Before Virgil could fully process the situation, Mason’s fist made contact with the bridge of Logan’s nose. Logan let out a pitiful yelp as his glasses made a worrisome cracking sound. Fury and adrenaline flooded Virgil, who raced over and positioned himself between his friend and the other boy, giving Mason a rough shove for good measure.

“Get out. Now.”

“Aw, look, your boyfriend’s come to save you,” Mason sneered at Logan, and Virgil realized that the altercation was probably because Logan had come out as gay a little while ago.

“I’m not his boyfriend. I also don’t care what you have to say. If you don’t leave in the next five seconds, I’m telling Mr. Rodriguez that you had your brother write that lab report for you.”

Mason scowled, but something in Virgil’s expression must have been enough to deter him because he spat in the dirt, narrowly missing Logan’s shoe, and slunk away. Virgil glared after him for a moment longer before dropping down next to his best friend. “Lo? You okay?”

Logan whimpered, curling in on himself and looking away, and Virgil’s heart ached at the sight of his usually vibrant, composed friend looking so upset. A punch alone definitely wouldn’t have been enough to elicit such a drastic response, and Virgil’s entire body seemed to tense with anger as he grabbed Logan’s hand.

“What did that idiot say to you?”

Logan pressed a hand to his mouth, choking on his next words, and Virgil realized with horror that he was crying. He had never seen Logan cry before. In an instant, the burning rage coursing through Virgil quieted to simmering concern, and he gently wrapped his arm around his friend.

“Do you, uh, do you want to talk about it?”

Logan leaned in and shook his head against Virgil’s shoulder, gasping raggedly. “I can’t—I, I can’t—”

“Hey, hey, Logan. Breathe.” Virgil tried to keep his voice calm, but it broke mid sentence. He wasn’t used to comforting Logan or seeing him like this at all. Still, he did what he could, collecting Logan in his arms and holding him gently while whispering soft reassurances and inhaling slowly, hoping his breaths and the sound of his heartbeat would help his friend calm down. Logan buried his face against Virgil’s chest until his breathing finally even out and the tears stopped falling.

*

“Ah, Virgil, there you are.”

The girl that had Virgil pressed against the wall backed up, and Virgil let out a shaky breath. Logan smiled tenderly at him, ice in his eyes.

“I’m getting kind of tired, would you like to head home now?”

Virgil nodded dazedly, not trusting himself to speak, and he only realized he had subconsciously reached for Logan’s hand when warm fingers wrapped around his clammy palm, grounding and familiar. His boyfriend led him out into the blessedly cool night and Virgil gulped down wheezy lungfuls of cold air, silently letting his boyfriend lead him to their car. He didn’t let himself fall apart until the doors were shut and he was safely in the passenger seat.

From the driver’s seat, Logan pulled him in and played with his hair soothingly, counting softly until Virgil was no longer gasping down air as though each breath was his last.

*

Virgil’s mind had been running in circles all day. He was planning on finally getting his act together and asking Logan out, but his brain insisted on reminding him of everything that could go wrong. They’d been best friends for forever, pretty much—even if Logan didn’t like him back, what was the worst that could happen? Logan wouldn’t stop being friends with him because of this, and Virgil could get over it if he had to… right?

“Virgil? Are you alright? You seem preoccupied.”

Logan noticed that he was acting off. Of course Logan noticed, it was one of the many things Virgil loved about him.

“Yeah, I—actually, um, I wanted to talk to you about something?” Virgil blurted before he could overthink things any more.

Logan nodded patiently. “Alright.”

Virgil had rehearsed this a million times, in his head and in front of the mirror and to his stuffed animals. He had the words that he wanted to say perched readily on the tip of his tongue. But every last bit of preparation evaporated before it left his lips as he looked at Logan. When he finally managed to speak, all that came out was a soft “I love you.”

Logan looked as stoic as ever. “I love you too.”

Virgil sighed and looked away, face slowly turning scarlet. “No, like—romantically.”

Logan nudged him, and when Virgil looked up a small smile had begun to spread across his face. “I know. I love you too.”

*

Virgil couldn’t think of many other instances when he’d felt as relaxed as he was. Logan had sprung the idea of a date night and they both desperately needed a break and some fresh air, so the two had decided to have a picnic at the local park. The sky was overcast and grey but the day was warm, and Virgil had kicked off his shoes—there weren’t many people around and he much preferred the feeling of grass on his bare feet—and had his head in his boyfriend’s lap as Logan rambled about Pluto.

“Did you know that Pluto’s biggest moon, Charon, is so large that the two orbit each other?”

Virgil looked up at Logan’s radiant smile and hummed sleepily. “No, that’s really interesting.”

Logan’s smile widened. “Pluto’s snow is apparently red, and there’s also a glacier on Pluto that’s heart-shaped and the size of Oklahoma and Texas.”

Virgil sat up and stretched. “Wow, that’s large.”

Logan’s eyes twinkled. “Not as large as my love for you, darling.”

Virgil shoulder-bumped him, but his face was bright pink. “You sap.” He knelt started rolling up the picnic blanket as Logan stood, fumbling around in his pockets with an uncharacteristically nervous air that Virgil didn’t catch. “We should probably head home now, yeah?”

“Yes, but first….” The quaver in Logan’s voice made Virgil open his mouth, an “Are you okay?” on the tip on his tongue, but the words crawled back down his throat when Logan took a deep breath and got down on one knee, a box in his hand.

“Virgil—” His voice cracked. “Virgil, you’ve been my closest friend since elementary school, and you’ve been my boyfriend since highschool. I’ve loved you for so long I can’t imagine what life would be like without it—without you, and I never want to know. We’ve been together for our entire lives; will you spend the rest of yours with me?”

Virgil buried his face in his hands and was silent for long enough that Logan began to worry. “It’s alright if—”

An ugly sob cut him off as Virgil enveloped him in a tight hug and choked out, “You dork, stop making me cry! Yes, oh my goodness, yes.”

As Virgil clung to him, laughing wetly and stammering out indecipherable words, Logan slipped the ring onto his finger.

*

taglist: @roman-exe @darwinmaximoff

[xchibikai]

Screw it, I’m posting it here.  I haven’t used this site in years.  I don’t even care.  (Plus, fusetter was being weird tonight so I don’t want to use it right now.)

Fair warning, this is not a “well-thought-out theories and speculations about the storyline” post.  This is just me talking about Misono and Mikuni and Tsurugi because they’re amazing and I love them.  If you follow me solely for spoilers, you don’t have to read this, it’s all coming from my warm, bursting heart with only a tiny bit of canonical spoilers.

SO.  Mikuni and Misono, am I right?  Beautiful babies.  Angels.  Perfect children.  A true gift.  Except for the fact that we’re finally getting closer to seeing them together, and the more we explore this, the less prepared I feel.

Remember back in the olden days when Mikuni loved Misono unconditionally and Misono thought Mikuni was the root of all evils thanks to illusions, and that’s as simple as it came and as far as it went?  (Okay, the whole “Mikuni being the root of everything” part still hasn’t really changed, but you know what I mean.)  Then Misono grew up a little bit more, learned the truth, and he decided he wanted answers & change, and even his father agreed that it was time for things to change.  And I was like, okay cool, one day they’re gonna meet up again and they’re gonna talk and Mikuni is gonna tell Misono how much he cares about him, and everything is gonna be freaking awesome.

EXCEPT THAT’S NOT WHAT’S HAPPENING AND I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO EXPECT ANYMORE.

It’s one of the best parts about Servamp, and one of the worst as well.  I can tell where the story is going half the time, and the other half of the time, it just falls apart in my hands.  I’m that raccoon who loses his cotton candy in the water.  That’s me with the Aliceins (and the Tsukimitsus, but we’re not talking about them right now, even though they’re always in my heart 24/7.)

We know that Misono grew up loved and accepted by his family, and even though he eventually learned the truth about where he comes from, his family was always his family and he never suspected otherwise.  He’s also still quite young, and because of that, tends not to have that innate reaction to view things from outside of his norm.  I like the fact that Tsurugi wants Misono to try and think about things from Mikuni’s side of the story, because nobody really knows what that side looks like yet, but if anyone could even come close to guessing -- I think it would probably be Tsurugi and Misono.

I always write out a translation for myself after I receive my copy of the magazine each month, so I’m just gonna copypasta from my transcript, pardon any formatting issues this might cause --

________________

Misono: ...Mikuni.  Will he come back to this house?  Me, and my father, and everyone here… we’re all waiting for Mikuni.

Tsurugi: But that’s just wishful thinking, isn’t it?

Misono: ?

Tsurugi: After all of this is over… what kind of ideal ending are you hoping to imagine?

Misono: … I want my father and Mikuni to make up, and for Mikuni to come home.  My father wants to apologize to Mikuni.  The things that happened in this house… they weren’t all bad.

Tsurugi: Yeah — that’s how you see your story.

Tsurugi: But what about his story?  There is no villain in your “Love”-themed story, in which you play the leading role.  All the children who are born are loved, and in that sense, it’s a happy ending for you, because there is nothing wrong with being born.  But, in the story of “Envy,” in which he plays the leading role…

_______________

It’s no surprise that Mikuni holds grudges.  He openly tells his father he’s disgusted with him after his affair and the death of Misono’s mother come to light.  He ended up killing his own mother years later, and although we don’t know what truly happened yet, the fact that Mikuni left and his father decided to essentially “erase” him from the family is reason enough to still hate his father.  Misono no longer sees Mikuni as the cause for their family’s collapse, but that doesn’t mean that Mikuni sees things that way, and Tsurugi is trying to guide Misono into seeing things from the other side of their perspective.

I know it’s a simple enough notion, but the fact that this is all happening right NOW is what leads me to believe we will soon see Misono and Mikuni interacting -- and considering a few other things that are going on, I honestly don’t know what to expect anymore.  (Especially if Tanaka pulls a “BUT WAIT THERE’S MORE” with information we haven’t been given yet.  You can’t rule out the surprise of new information.)

Hugh is presumably working alongside Tsubaki at this point, and while it could have been a trap, his meeting with Tetsu seemed genuine enough.  I don’t have any doubt that Mikuni orchestrated Tetsu’s shooting, and if I had to guess, I’m sure he expected that Hugh had a soft spot for Tetsu and would eventually lead them straight to him, allowing him to enact that whole setup with Nico and Ildio.  Now that Hugh has fled with Tetsu, assuming he goes back to Tsubaki’s place to get Tetsu immediate medical attention, that would give Mikuni access to Tetsu.

For what purpose?  I’m not really sure.  But remember a long time ago, when Sakuya showed up to discuss something with Misono and Tetsu?  And after he left, Misono asked Tetsu not to share the new information with anyone else?  So assuming they stuck to that plan, Tetsu knows something (presumably about Mikuni) that only a few other people know, which would be incentive enough for Mikuni to need Tetsu out of the way.

Or maybe he has an actual plan in place that involves getting his hands on Tetsu.

Or maybe he doesn’t actually know that Sakuya visited with Misono and Tetsu, and this has been part of some plan of Mikuni’s in an attempt to manipulate Misono’s hand and get him to play his moves in a certain order, just like when they were children playing chess together.

Or maybe he truly wants Misono to not be a part of all of this, and choosing Tetsu as a target in his plan was just a matter of coincidence.  The possibilities are endless, and it makes my head spin.  Does it make your head spin…?  Why does Servamp do that so well lmao?

I still stand by my theory that the Sendagaya family has some kind of meaningful connection to the world of magic.  I know I tend to put the Tsukimitsus up on a pedestal, but their family is canonically important to the world of magicians, and the fact that their mother is so stong-willed and traditional (as seen through Yumikage’s flashbacks and recent chapters) makes me believe that she raised her children with firm purpose, and when Miyako married a Sendagaya, it’s POSSIBLE it was for love, but more likely, it had some kind of dutiful significance behind it.  I really do hope we get a chapter where Tetsu just breaks out some kind of kickass magical power like, “Oh, yeah, this.  I didn’t mention it because I just didn’t think it was relevant.”  That would simply be typical Tetsu fashion.

Also, I’m stoked for Yumikage and Miyako to be searching for Tetsu together.  Please let Tetsu’s sister(s) join them at some point.  This is the perfect lead-in for their introduction.

BUT ONE MORE NOTE (or maybe more later, idk I’m having so many feelings about them right now) on this whole “Tsurugi is going to stay at the Alicein mansion while we search” thing -- if Misono and Tsurugi are both at the mansion, these would be nice conditions for Mikuni to show up undetected and let a shitstorm brew.  Mikuni (presumably) loves Misono and (presumably) hates Tsurugi on the opposite deep ends of the spectrum.  The fact that Tsurugi is growing up a little bit is also probably a thorn in his side (as we’ve seen when Tsurugi stood up to Touma for the first time while Mikuni watched from the control room, clearly having some thoughts on the situation.)  Part of me feels like he still has plans for Tsurugi.  (I mean, plans other than the one where he told Nico to kill Tsurugi and Sigurd.  Because seriously, what kind of a Mikuni-approved plan is that?  It just doesn’t feel like something he would do honestly.  But who knows anymore.)

Obviously, things are in motion now, with Sigurd wanting Mikuni dead before operation “Gambit,” and Mikuni wanting Sigurd and Tsurugi dead in (if I remember correctly) less than twenty-four hours.

There are so many things happening at once.  My head hurts.  But I love it.

[mayfriend-archive]

Totally understand if you're not up for it and fully recognize the ronald mcdonald dom/sub anon vibes which is an AMAZING post btw but like...now i'm curious, what the hell did Lord of the Flies anon DO that got him blocked for the discourse? like...i just can't wrap my head around high school lit being...uh...that inflammatory i guess?

Okay so, I'll start by saying I've had a new anon from apparently the same anon saying they are NOT the person I blocked, just a rando making the same points, but I'll answer your question anyway just to set out why this person in particular got blocked, out of the several thousand who reblogged/commented on that very successful addition to the LoTF post I made.

First off, I added the 'real life Lord of the Flies' story because I thought it was a good story. I had read about it only a couple days beforehand in Humankind and, after reading out the entire chapter to my parents who weren't very interested, I was excited that there was not only a post where it would be relevant to post, but that I wouldn't be hijacking it, as it was already rejecting the widespread interpretation taught in many schools, that humanity is inherently savage.

When making the addition, I a) did not think it would get more than a couple reblogs, because the post was already at 50k notes and I figured anyone that might be interested would already have seen it, and b) I did not know the very specific context that prompted William Golding to write the book; all I knew was that he had been a teacher at a public school (basically, the poshest schools in the country - think Eton, Harrow, very 'old money' places that pump out Conservative politicians by the bucket-load 🤢) who hated his job and the boys he taught (which, valid), and new information I'd been given in Humankind - that Golding had said to his wife one day, "Wouldn't it be a good idea to write a story about some boys on an island, showing how they would really behave?" - which had no mention of The Coral Island by R. M. Ballantyne, which I have since learned was the text that Golding loathed enough to write an entire novel in refutation of - and included what I considered a very telling letter from Golding to his publisher, in which Golding wrote of his belief that 'even if we start with a clean slate, our nature compels us to make a muck of it.' Another Golding quote that I believe portrays his belief in humanity's 'innate savagery' is that "man produces evil as a bee produces honey."

Obviously, the author of a book putting forward the case for humanity's inherent goodness was going to oppose Golding's hypothesis; Bregman not only noted Golding's literary accomplishments and beliefs, but his personal life.

When I began delving into the author's life, I learned what an unhappy individual he'd been. An alcoholic. Prone to depression. A man who, as a teacher, once divided his pupils into gangs and encouraged them to attack each other. "I have always understood the Nazis," Golding confessed, "because I am of that sort by nature." (Humankind by Rutger Bregman, p. 24-25)

I have bolded the part about him as a teacher, because it is incredibly relevant to the original post that I commented on, which begins with a comic of a teacher locking her class in to see them 'recreate' Lord of the Flies, something which the follow up comments before mine staunchly reject as both misunderstanding the point of the book, and the fact that it took the kids in Lord of the Flies a significant amount of time without adult supervision to go 'savage'. This misreading of the text is widespread enough that when Golding won the Nobel Prize for Lord of the Flies, the Swedish Nobel committee wrote that his book 'illuminate[s] the human condition in the world of today'. Whether or not they misread it is beyond my expertise - they do at least mention the factors of the outside world neglected by many when analysing the book, but still seem to believe it says something about human nature as a whole rather than just, to quote thedarkbutbeige 'British kids being rat bastards' - but Golding quite happily took his Nobel prize on this basis. Which, in fairness, I would too. It's a fucking Nobel prize.

It was with this knowledge, and this knowledge alone, that I stated in my now very, very widely read comment that Golding 'wrote the book to be a dick', in response to the tags of the person I reblogged from. As I said, I now know that Golding did not write the book (solely) because he hated the kids he taught, but as a response to The Coral Island and the general idea that clearly the British were inherently civilsed, whilst the people they colonised and enslaved were inherently savage. So. That's the background.

The anon - or rather, the person I thought was anon - was the sole exception out of dozens of replies, who instead of telling me about The Coral Island politely decided it was time to go ALL CAPS and regurgitate points already made by thespaceshipoftheseus, and implied that the only reason that the real life Tongan castaways didn't go all Lord of the Flies was because they weren't British. Not because they weren't surrounded by violence like the boys in Lord of the Flies, or there wasn't a World War ongoing, or that they weren't the upper, upper, upper crust of a class-obsessed society like Britain - but because they weren't British. A complete inversion of the concept that Golding was trying to get across - now, instead of all of humanity being equally prone to savagery in the right conditions, it was solely nationality that determined it. As in, the British were inherently savage, but nobody else was.

I, trying for humour, made the terrible mistake of replying to them.

I won't lie, I was absolutely blown away that this was real life. What I think they were trying to do was be that Cool Tumblr Person who, after somebody's been shitty on a post, goes to their blog and sees something Damning in their about/description. In an ideal world, I imagine I'd have gone nuts or done something Unforgiveable. In what I can only call the rant that followed, they stated several times that I needed to go back to high school to get some 'proper literary analysis' skills and that the story of the Tongan castaways was completely unrelated to the point at hand which. I mean, I disagree, considering that I made the addition, but I couldn't get my head around how commenting on a post that was already rejecting the thesis that the 'point' of Lord of the Flies was that humanity was inherently savage and was, in fact, about how kids - British or otherwise - learn how to function from the adults around them, and that traumatised, terrified children aren't going to create a mini-Utopia, and put forward a real life example of how without the key additions of an ongoing world war, a colonial Empire and the subsequent mindset of thinking you are 'inherently civilised' and therefore can't do anything wrong, actually, people just want to take care of each other.

A friend has since asked me why I even have 'england' in my description. To be honest, it's a timezone thing - I talk to a lot of people online who don't share my timezone, and it generally makes me feel like if I don't reply immediately because it's 3am, they have the tools to see that I'm not in their timezone and not just ignoring them. I did consider changing it to 'british' or 'uk' after it was... 'used against me', I guess, simply because I didn't want to deal with it, but you know what. No. Not gonna do that. I am from England, and I have never hid that fact. I have a tag called 'uk politics', during Eurovision I refer to the UK's act as 'us' (even if I really, really don't want to. Because James Newman slaughtered that song and it was downright embarrassing), I regularly post stuff in my personal tag about where I live (and mostly complain about this piece of shit government). If people really think my nationality makes every point I make null and void, then they don't have to follow me or interact with my posts; tumblr is big, and I am one medium-small blog very easily passed over.

I did reply to them, trying to explain the above, but their next response really just doubled down. Because I used the word British instead of English - foolishly because the posts above mine focused on Britishness, and also because although Golding was English and taught English kids, the pro-Imperialism author of The Coral Island, R. M. Bannatyne was actually Scottish so, ding ding ding, falls into the 'British' category - they then decided that I was somehow trying to pretend I wasn't English and made all the same points, before ending with this doozy:

At this point, I knew there was nothing to be gained from replying, because if we're whipping out conditions like they're pokemon cards then there's no actual conversation anymore, and I'm not going to start mudslinging like an identity politician. They made up their mind, and I figured there could be no harm in letting them think that they 'won' by blocking them instead of replying.

Until the ask. INNATE ENGLISH SAVAGERY did, I'll admit, make me think it was them, back again. I even thought up a really good response approximately 12 hours after I replied, I was that sure. Until the second message came in, and said they were just someone who came from the post and made the same point by chance. So the saga draws to a close... for now.

It may have been them, it may not have been - the anon feature makes it impossible to be sure, but as the second message I got said, we're in a heatwave. It's too hot to argue. And I've just written a goddamn essay about a book I dislike anyway.

My pasty English ass is going to go melt. If there's Disk Horse, do not tell me. I am Done™

[raz-b-rose]

The Secrets we Share

Part one

This is the second and (for now) final part to this AU. 

11527 words. Enjoy

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21737908/chapters/56487616#workskin

___________________________________________________________

Marinette pulls back from the kiss first, gazing lovingly at Damian. “I love you, sorry again for overreacting” 

“We both have weaknesses, but we have all the time to help each other” Damian kisses her forehead, taking her bag to her room. Marinette only hums in response. 

Marinette couldn't believe the changes in her life in just one week. Master Fu had passed, she was the new supreme Guardian; her parents were proud of her, and she hoped her mother understood when she told them about the wedding. She was raised within the temple's traditions after all, but she had also raised her to carve her own path despite Fu’s desire to raise her as the next supreme. 

Marinette froze for a moment, watching Damian move around her apartment with ease, grinning wildly at the thought of this becoming her everyday life. Her and Damian together, best friends and partners. Partners. Marinette focusses on that word. She thinks about her days as a vigilante. It had been two years since she had last transformed with Tiki, since she had last doned the monacer of Ladybug and assisted others. She feels something bubble up in her chest that almost matches the excitement of her future with Damian. She could become ladybug once again. 

Damina glances behind him to Marinette relaxing to the sight of her smile. She was his retreat from everything crazy and stressful in his life. No matter what happens in the field or on missions, he would always have her to return to. Her smile, her joy, and her kindness will always be there for him. 

“Hey Chéri, I should let you know that we have just one more thing in common” Marinette is still grinning wildly, coming forward to join their hand together. 

“What is that Habibti?” Damian finds himself caught up in her excitement. 

“I used to be a vigilante as well, and I had to quit when I moved here for school, didn’t want to step on any toes, but now I can help again, this is wonderful” 

Damian stiffins, varying images of all the terrible things that could happen to Marinette flying though his mind before settling on Barbra in a wheelchair. His grip tightens his breathing labored. 

“Marinette I-” She simply cups his face, eyes shining in understanding. 

“Because Tikki is effectively immortal, that trait is shared with me when I am transformed with her. There is nothing to worry about.”

“Tikki?” As if responding to the name, the same small red fairy-like creature flies up to his face, almost causing him to go cross eyed. 

“There is nothing to worry about Damian. If anything, Marinette would be better protected than you.”

“How does that work?” Marinette had moved them back to the couch, continuing to smile as though Damian was not in the middle of a panic attack thinking about how she could die horribly. He would love to have her beside him at all times, but maybe not all the time. 

Tikki only grins at him. Damian looks to Marinette to see the grin reflected on her face. They did not see the issue here. Marinette could not be in the field. She must have done community service or something. There is no way his Habibti fought crime as a teenager, right? 

“Because I am immortal, unless something were to happen to my earrings, which would be very challenging to manage mind you, when I share my powers with another that trait is shared with them as well.” 

Damian is still struggling to grasp the calming logic of her statements. “Even if she can’t die she could still be seriously hurt '' Damian doesn't want to be overprotective, but he's going to be overprotective. 

Tikki only shakes her head, the movement soft. “I absorb any damage she takes, for life threatening injuries however, i can only absorb so much,” Damian stops breathing all together, “so she would be left with anything from a bruise to a laceration.”

“Nothing a first aid kit can’t handle.” Marinette appears at his side, handing him a mug of tea. When had she moved and made tea?

“But you could still be-” He starts to argue, but Marinette's change in tone causes him pause to hear her out. 

“Damian, I have been shot on three different occasions, here, here, and here.” She points to her hip, head and finally her heart. Damian followed each movement of her finger with fascinated horror. “I was only left with a bruise for each of them, I will be ok.”

They have a stare off for what feels like hours, Damian can see another creature join the huddle on the couch, but keeps his focus on Marinette. Her eyes aren’t hard, instead they are understanding but she won't back down from this. “I also have healing magic, for the next time you get hurt”

“I don’t get hurt” Damian tries to say with an air of pride, but even to his ears he can hear the weakness of the lie. 

“Yes you do, mister I got shot and didn’t say anything” Marinette gives him a pointed look, before giggling at Damian's crestfallen face. 

“How did you know?”

“Oh please, I have been training with magic since I could walk, specifically that healing magic” She says with a wave of her hand. He closes his eyes, taking multiple deep breaths. 

What are the facts of the situation he has control over? Marinette knows magic. Marinette can bond with an immortal being effectively making her immortal while bonded. Marinette has been shot before. Marinette is here. Marinette had been a vigilante. Marinette had been a good vigilante. Nobody as far as he knew had heard of any such thing from Paris. Marinette is going to be his partner in everything. Everything. Damian opens his eyes to her sky blue ones, relaxing once again into their depths. 

“Ok, but we start slow, I need time to adjust.” She just smiles softly at him, rubbing her hand along his shoulder. 

“Of course Chéri, it's only fair,” Damian relaxes some more, thankful at her cooperation. “You don't know how amazing I am as a vigilante yet” Damian scowls at her, eyes darkening in that competitive way they always do when Marinette goads him on. 

“Is that so” He grins wickedly, carefully placing both of their cups on the coffee table. She eyes him with excited trepidation, waiting for Damian to strike. He glances behind her, tilting his head in confusion, and strikes when she also starts to turn back. 

“Are you as good as you say if you fall for such an easy trick?” He teases while he tickles her, proud at the belly laughs he is eliciting from her. 

“Stop Dami, stop” She squeals, trying desperately to put distance between them, her breaths short and joy filled. 

“I dont think I’m ready to” 

“Dami!” She laughs out, soft pawing at his face, tears of joy mixing with the tear tracks from earlier. With that Final plea, he stops kissing her quickly and gently. He doesn’t need her passing out from lack of oxygen after all. She simply pulls him down into a cuddle, humming contently. Pulling each other close, their warmth mixes together, making for a comfortable nap inducing environment, but both know they can’t take a nap, not yet after all. 

Damian glances over to see Tikki and the other one, sitting cheerfully on the window sill, observing the city streets below. 

“What,” Damian starts to ask Marinette then thinks better of it, after all they were clearly sentient beings capable of holding a conversation. 

“What exactly are you?” He sits up, facing each of the small beings. They glance between each other before coming over to sit on the coffee table. 

“We are called kwami, but to be exact we are the personification of certain ideals or desires.” The small horse looking one answers, licking away at a sugar cube. 

Damian glances to Marinette for clarification. They did answer his question but it left him blind to certain details that Marinette is sure to have. However Tikki is the one to answer his unasked inquiry. 

“We should start at the beginning, as we do with all newcomers to the Order,” Tikki sends a pointed look to Kaalki, who just rolls her eyes before focusing on her meal. 

“There was a woman named Tikki who lived in China during the Xia dynasty. She learned of magic through travelers and taught herself the most powerful form of magic at the time, creation magic. She loved to create new things, especially things to help others.”

“While she was traveling her older sister fell ill to what was an incurable disease at the time.” Marinette laughs softly into her hand as Damian leans forward, grasping his hands in front of his face in total concentration on Tikki’s history lesson. 

“She quickly switched her focus to healing magic, desperate to save her sister's life. During her quest she experimented with imbedding jewelry with healing effects to stop or even just slow the effects of the sickness.”

Tikki leaves the coffee table to continue her story next to Marinette's earrings, touching them softly. “Because of her love to create, her love for her sister, and her desire to heal I was brought into consciousness, a part of her soul, so to speak, being imbedded into the earrings.” 

“I became everything she desired and held dear. I can create as well as heal and was the first miraculous created.” 

“Do you share her memories?” 

“No, I am simply a personification of her will.”

“Is that why you are immortal, you are neither alive or dead?” Marinette is impressed that Damian was able to grasp that truth so quickly. 

“Exactly.” 

“What happened after?” He is not so much as eager to learn what happened, but rather gain the knowledge necessary to join this world of Marinettes. 

“She returned home just as the sickness was taking its final hold, we worked together to heal her, becoming Hóng fūrén.”

“Did she create the rest of the miraculous?”

“No,” Kaalki answers him this time, having finished her sugar cube she settles in on Marinette's other shoulder. “When other magicians learned of what she created, they traveled to her, eager to learn her secrets.”

“The first was a man by the name of Plagg, who had lost a loved one to the same sickness that almost took Tikki’s sister. He had heard of her miracle and hoped that she could return his loved one to him.”

“I hear a but in there,”

“Bringing people back from the dead will always have consequences, as you know” Tikki says gravely, her stare is filled both with pity and resentment. He doesn’t think that the last one is aimed at him however. Marinette stiffins. 

“Damian-”

“We can talk about that later,” She doesn’t look reassured, but nods in acceptance, “Thank you, please continue” Damian reaches up to rub his chest where the sword pierced. There was no scar, but the memory of the pain was enough for Damian.

“Even though they could not help him in his original request, he still desired to learn her new way of magic as well. He then created the ring of destruction, his desire to rid the world of the illness being his main driving force.”

“Each of the Miraculous were created by different magicians and added to the collection. Tikki and Plagg went on to be the founders of the order, seeking to use their magic to help everyone around them.”

“What caused them to hide from the world?”

“A traitor by the name of Jin Yong. He had been unsuccessful in creating anything, much less a Miraculous. He attempted to steal all of them for himself, and killed Plagg in the process.” Marinette always hated this part of the story. 

“By this time Tikki and Plagg had married, and started a family. In her rage, she wielded both the creation and destruction Miraculous. Jin yong was quickly dealt with but her rage still needed an outlet.”

“She unleashed such raw magical power, that she carved up the nearby mountain range. The other magicians feared her, quick to submit themselves to her, and follow any order she had to give. She then declared that from thereforth, all Miraculous would be kept in a box, and named herself as Supreme Guardian, who is the only person capable of opening the box.”

"She then traveled as far west as she could before stopping in what is now Tibet. There she built the temple and erased all traces of the miraculous from the world.”

Marinette plays with her fingers, small tears gathering. Damian rubs small circles in her back, quietly processing what he just heard. That much raw power in the wrong hands could be disastrous. 

“Marinette, is announcing the Order to the world the wisest idea?” He was trying to be gentle, but the idea of being incapable of fighting against such a threat scared him. 

“Yes, Supreme Guardian Tikki also placed a spell over all the miraculous. As long as I know who holds the Miraculous I can order it back to the box. Stealing one is difficult but not impossible. It has happened before.” 

“Damian,” Kaalki draws his attention away, “ Not every Miraculous can manage that kind of power. Not every person can handle that kind of power. Tikki only could because she had created the Miraculous, her bonding with it being much more intimate than can be managed today.” 

Damian frowns in confusion, “So how does this whole bonding thing work anyway?” 

Marinette seems to brighten a little, quick to answer him, “The longer you wear a miraculous the stronger the shared magic between Kwami and human become. You also have to physically fit, spiritually sound and mentally strong to even transform with a Kwami. Anyone can wear a miraculous, but not everyone can wield one.” 

“That makes me feel a little better.”

She giggles softly, sipping her tea softly. Tikki and Kaalki had moved from her shoulders now sitting softly in her lap. Marinette seems to be working herself up to say something, so he waits patiently for her to collect herself. 

“We have had this power that could be shared with the world for centuries, just sitting there in cowardice for what may or may not happen. When Plagg first convinced me to transform with him and take a run on the roof tops, and I stopped a mugging, I knew what I would do with the Order should I end up leading it. I would build a team to help the world.” 

She gives Damian a hard stare, “I will help those who need it.” He can’t help but smile at her and berate himself even further. Her heart is too good, kind, and compassionate. 

“You will accomplish all those things Marinette. I will help you any way I can.” 

“I know. Thank you Damian” Marinette feels a peace within her soul. The Order could look down on a Supreme being in a relationship all they want. She would not be as strong without Damian at her side. 

“So why have I never heard of vigilantes in Paris?” Marinette at least has the gall to look embarrassed. 

“As a part of my training, I would bond with a different miraculous every two weeks. When Plagg talked me into transforming and testing my powers in Paris, instead of at the temple, I loved the rush from pouncing on people and surprising them. Because I had a new look every few weeks, no one ever made the connection.”

“And then she had to start getting her friends in on it too,” Tikki chimes in in exasperation. “It was hard enough keeping her nightly adventures a secret, but adding more people to the mix every few months was getting challenging.” 

“And yet I built myself a good team” Marinette huffs. They went on to bicker about Marinette's youth. Damian can’t help but dread that this would also now be a part of his new life. Kwami everywhere all the time. It would definitely take some adjusting. Damian frowns at his now vibrating phone, the caller ID confusing him even more. Standing he distances himself from the others, not wanting to disturb them with his call. 

“What is it Brown?” She only ever called him when there was a daytime emergency. 

“Damian you need to talk to Tim, this isn't ok.” 

“I don't need to do anything you say” Damian feels his good mood souring quickly. 

“No, Tim is a wreck. You haven't talked to anyone for days.”

“Who I choose to speak to is none of your concern.” Stephanie tries to interrupt him but Damian speaks over her, “I am not responsible for how Drake is feeling”

“You men and hating to talk things out” She snaps, Damian only rolls his eyes, after all just what had he and Marinette been doing for the last hour? 

“There is nothing for us to talk about. He has apologized but the fact of the matter is he doesn't trust me, therefore there is no reason to speak until that is repaired first” Damian clenches his fist at admitting such a thing to Stephanie of all people. 

“Of course he trusts you Damian,” 

“If he truly trusted me, then this would not have happened” The silence on the other end is unsettling, Damian can only stand there, waiting for her to say something, but he knows she can’t find a way to refute his claim. “I believe you have no right to speak to me about such matters as well Brown, last I heard you weren’t even on speaking terms with Drake yourself”

“That was a low blow Damian” She growls out before cursing him out and hanging up. Damian trembles, Stephanie reigniting his original anger from the last week. He jumps a little, meeting Marinette's worried gaze. 

“Damian?” 

“It’s nothing, just Drakes, whatever she is right now, meddling with something she has no right to.” Marinette retakes her seat on the couch. They had talked about themselves, but not how he felt with his family. Clearly it was still unresolved and had led to a lot of stress for all parties. 

“Does Tim do things like this often?” She asks so quietly, that Damian almost missed her question, the roaring in his ears grew louder. 

“Do what?”

“Investigate people?”

“It is his prefered job. He investigates to find all the information so that we don’t have any blank spots.” 

“Then why was his investigation of me bothering you so much? He does it to other people so why can’t he do it to me?” He can tell she is playing devil's advocate, but the question still bothers him. He can feel his anger growing stronger.

“I asked him, and Todd, not to. To meet you like normal people.” She hums, nodding her head slightly in agreement. 

“That request does change everything. And why does that feel like a breach of trust to you?” Damian tightens his fists, a headache coming on from his tightened jaw. Marinette runs her thumb over the back of his hand, that's when he notices her breathing steadily. In, out. In, out. Damian starts to match her pace, his body loosening with each exhale.

“They question every choice I make. Always acting like I’m in danger. However only when I make ‘life changing decisions’” Damian states dryly, “any other time they behave as though they do not care for me.” Marinette only nods, he can tell by the look in her eye that she is processing the information, tucking it away. 

“I know I can be uncommunicative and impersonal at times,” Marinette offers a small smile, “but I thought that I had made headway in building better relationships with my brothers. Don’t tell them this but I do care for them and have come to enjoy their company” 

“This sounds like normal sibling drama then.” Marinette smiles, “No need to be angry. Tim and Jason care too, in their own way. They need to find a different way to show it though, you too mister” She runs her finger down his nose before pecking it quickly.

“I don’t know how to approach them at the moment, but I don’t want to lose them either” Damian confides in her, knowing his vulnerability is safe with her. 

“It doesn’t need to be today Damian, a lot has happened already.” She stands pulling him with her. “But it needs to be soon. It becomes harder the longer you wait.”

“I will Habibti, don’t worry. Thank you.”

“You can talk about anything at any time Damian.” She smiles softly one last time before leading them towards the door. “I am hungry, and i think food would help both of us right now” 

They enjoyed a peaceful meal, phones set on silent, just the two of them ignoring the outside world of responsibilities until a later time. Damian asked more questions, Marinette asked her own in return. The couple shared everything they hadn't before, finding solace in the fact that they truly understood the others' struggles like no one else could. 

The late afternoon sun offered a cozy setting as they returned to Marinette's place, the Kwami glad to be home for free reign once again. And the two of them did what they did best. Separate activities in the same room. 

Marinette returned to her dress, as it was still due for completion that week. Family emergency or not, fashion projects are to be completed. Damian returned to his book, quickly reimmersed in it, but even that couldn't hold off the exhaustion that builds when emotional stress is in play. Damian is stirred from sleep, Marinette giggling at him.

“Hey sleepy head, I think you need to go home to get some proper rest” She places a marker in his book, before walking away. Damian lays there for a few moments adjusting to consciousness. He sits up a little too quickly when he notices the time. He is late for patrol. 

He jumped off the couch, pulling his jacket on in a panic, cursing softly as he gathered the rest of his things. Maeinette wonders over, concerned. 

“Is everything ok? Did something happen?”

“No, nothing like that. I am just late for patrol” Damian pecks her cheek but the touch of her hand stops him at the door. 

“Is that a good idea? You seem really tired.” He kisses her once more, less rushed this time.

“I will be ok. I’ll see you tomorrow, promise” Marinette hugs him tightly before finally letting him leave. She stands at the door for a moment, before turning back to her dress. Damian would be ok, she could feel it. Her gut was almost never wrong anymore, Marinette frowns at her embroidery, almost. 

Tonight was not a good night. Damian scowls into the streets below. The coms were unusually silent. When he had signed onto the comms everyone gave him short crisp answers. His father, he could understand, but Todd and Drake refused to talk to him, and after the fuss Stephanie made, he expected Drake to be grovelling once again. 

“Boys, we got trouble down by the docks, looks like Penguin is making a move.” Oracle informs. Each gave a confirmation before launching to the docks. Damian moved quickly, the thought of Marinette waiting for him at the forefront of his mind more than ever. 

“Robin and Red Hood, come in from the north. Red Robin and I will come in from the west.” Batman orders before going silent once again. Damian is almost to the docks when Red Hood comes up on his right, their paths converging into one. 

“Robin, she got back today right? Did everything go alright?” Damian is caught off guard by his question and almost missteps off the roof. He opens his mouth to respond like he always had when they try to pry, but Marinette's words from that afternoon cause him pause. He needs to find a different way to show that he does care for his brothers. What better way to start then being more open about his life. 

“It went well.” 

Now it was Jason's turn to be surprised. Damian was not one to willingly give information on his personal life. It took poking and prodding with the figurative crowbar to even get him to open his mouth, and even that didn’t always guarantee you'll get what you wanted out of him. 

“That's good to hear.” He could practically feel the tension drain from the coms, Babs mutters a small praise and he winces. He knew they could feel the tension, he felt bad that Babs could as well. “Sorry Oracle”

“Refocus, now that that is out of the way, and then you can talk more.” 

“Yes Ma’am” 

Damian scowls as the distant sound of sirens grows louder. Just what they didn’t need. “Red Robin and I have converged on the smugglers. Some are trying to escape your way, be ready.” 

The boys move faster to intercept before the police arrive. Damian swings down, landing harder than intended on the pavement, bringing five men to an abrupt stop. They are all dressed in beanies and black clothes. A few have traditional guns while the others have spearguns guns.

“Evening boys, would you mind dropping the weapons and surrendering peacefully?” Red Hood saunters in from the rear, catching all the cornered men off guard. With a grunt, they all start to pull their guns. 

Without further words, the boys attack first, subduing the ones with the spearguns first, fearing the nasty wound that could leave more than that of a regular gun. After all, they have dealt with those before. One of the men, after losing his gun, tried to fare in hand to hand combat, Damian simply tripped him, knocking him out cold with an elbow to the throat. Damian turns around to find himself at the end of a gun, and no time to move. 

Red Hood bashes the man in the back of the head with his gun, simply nodding at Damian, who could only sigh in relief. It wasn’t the first time he had been in that sort of situation since meeting Marinette, where all he could think about was how upset and angry she would be to learn how he died. Now that she knew, he wondered if she would be angrier or just heartbroken. 

Red Hood walks over, clapping him firmly on the shoulder. “Not yet Robin, you have plenty of time ahead of you.” Damian glances at him with narrowed eyes, he can feel his mask constrict with the movement. How had he managed to glare 24/7 when he was younger? 

They boys turn at the sound of their family landing behind them. Red Robin fidgets next to the bat, their difference in height would have made it comical if not for the seriousness of the situation. Damian simply nods to him, sending a small smile his way. That was more than enough to show the young man that the blood between them had been cleared. He relaxed immediately, offering his own smirk in return. 

Bruce watched the interaction, glad that the boys had made up in their own way, but couldn’t help the roll of his eyes at the dramatics of it all. But it's your fault that they are terrible at these things his subconscious whispers to him. Bruce scowled at the intrusive thought, his pride making it difficult to admit fault. 

“The police have already started inventory on the unit of drugs they were trying to move into the city. Pick up will be here shortly, Robin come with me to oversee processing of evidence.” Both men set off, Father and Son into the night. 

Batman turns off his comm unit, motioning for Robin to do the same. While Damian’s relationship with Bruce hasn't always been the smoothest, they have both tried. Damian tried to be everything he valued in his Father, and Bruce tried to emulate the things Damian thought of as important. Unfortunately for both of them, that did not include expressing emotions or confrontation into personal issues as priority. 

“I look forward to meeting her.” Damian rolls his eyes at the attempt for normal father son bonding conversations. They had never been Bruce's forte, but he refused to cease the attempts. “She must be a wonderful woman.”

“Wonderful because she caught my attention?” 

“Wonderful because she brings out the best in you.” Bruce smiles, knowing Damian was testing his responses. He may not be the best at conventional relationships, but he picked up a thing or two from Alfred over the years. 

Damian is caught off guard at the response. “The best in me?”

“She must have said something today or performed an action in the past to influence your earlier behavior with your brothers” Damian thinks over his words, realizing the truth within the statement. He grins before voicing his next thought. 

“If she has held such an influence over me for so long, you must be slacking in your abilities, old man” Bruce simply raises his brow, a trade mark look if anyone who knows Batman were to give him one. 

“Maybe” And with that the conversation comes to an end for now, as he turns the comms back on, meeting the commissioner behind the taped off scene. Robin shadows Batman, a working system for the last few years now. Damian however is processing the day while observing the hustle and bustle of the crime scene. Once everything is settled and they are retiring for the night at the cave, suits locked up and equipment put away, Damian sends a small wave to his family before heading back to the city. 

His brain battles with itself before he finally crashes onto his bed, sleep over taking him. The night was a normal one, with the regular adrenaline. No matter how hard he tried to rethink about his afternoon, his body needed to rejuvenate itself. Thinking could wait, recharge could not. 

It is well past twelve when he finally awakens, a small headache at the front of his head. He checks his phone to find a text from Bruce, asking if they would be coming to dinner at the Manor. It was Dicks last night in town before returning to Jump City. 

Damian ended up staring at his phone for over five minutes. Finally he placed a call, hoping she was available. He chuckles as she picks up the phone, her frantic yelps coming over the line.

“Damian finally! Are you ok?”

“Yes Marinette, I am fine.” He laughs.

“Thank goodness, what's up?”

“Would you be available for dinner at the manor tonight?”

“Of course! What time?”

“I’ll pick you up at three-thirty. We usually eat around four.”

“Perfect, I’ll see you soon! Love you!” Before she hangs up he hears her call for Tikki, claiming a need for her opinion on outfits. Laughing one last time, he responds to his father's text before rising to get ready. 

Now that things were mostly patched with Tim and Jason, dinner wasn’t looking to be an uncomfortable affair. He was however still apprehensive to introduce her to his family. But, if she could handle his past confessions, then she could probably handle his family just fine. If she could handle leading a whole organization at twenty-two, she could handle his family. 

After a quick walk for Titus, and running a quick errand, it was finally time to pick up Marinette. As he approaches her building once more, she waits on the sidewalk, eyes peeled for his car. Her face lights up as she spots him, her hair cascading gently around her face, framing her freckles and eyes perfectly. 

“Hey there handsome, did you have a good night?” With the click of her seat belt, Damian returns to the line of cars eager to leave the city.  

“We managed to intercept a shipment of new drugs Penguin was trying to introduce to the city. Not a standard night but not a new scenario” Damian shrugs, not finding it as weird to talk casually about his nightly activities as he thought it would be.

Marinette nods, giving him a weak smile, “That is relieving to hear, I was worried for you”

“I assume that is going to be a standard for us now” Damian scowls, thinking once again about all the horrible what-ifs and undesirable futures. 

“Yes but i feel like it's not that different from other couples” Marinette reaches over to take his hand, Damian notices she's trembling slightly, but decides not to bring attention to it. 

“What do you mean? I believe we are in a unique situation.”

“ Well what about Military, Officers, or any other profession that has a life threatening aspect to it? Any couple apart of those lives worry for safety and health just as much as we are now”

“That is a very true point, however I maintain our uniqueness with that not every couple fights crime as vigilantes together” Damain gives her a quick pointed look before returning his focus to the road. 

“And the average couple can be affected by unexpected injuries or death as well,” Marinette continues as though Damian hadn’t spoken, staring out the window as the grey and muted red buildings turn to a forest of green with the ocean peaking through, “No we are not the different after all” 

Damian doesn't respond for a moment, his mind focussing between her trembling hand, to her hyperfocus on safety and wellbeing standards in other couples, and finally on the scrunching of her face as though she is trying not to cry. 

“Are you trying to reassure me or yourself?” His tone was gentle, and quiet; his brothers would never believe it. Damian no longer had any qualms about having Marinette by his side no matter what. He needed her, just a week of thinking he had lost her, had him in a wreck,. He doesn't know what would happen if he were to actually lose her. 

“Myself,” She continues to stare out the window, but she seemed almost calmer now, “The vigilantism aside, we would have a decreased risk of losing each other, but not a nonexistent risk.” 

Damian knows that she is processing her thoughts, and smiles to himself, waiting patiently. “I love you Damian, it's painful to think about life without you,”

“Then don’t, don’t focus on the what-ifs, the negative possibilities, or the inevitable future.” Marinette finally looks at him then, eyes narrowed but a smile beginning to form, “Focus on today, that we are together”

“Are you trying to reassure me or yourself?” She parrots, giggling at his unimpressed look. “Empathy is so very interesting, we can so clearly see how to reassure someone else of our own fear but struggle with our own advice” 

“Never have more true words been spoken” Damian chuckles, taking her hand in his own, the car settling into silence once more. The calm atmosphere is cracked when Marinette's hands begin to tremble once again.

“Relax, Mari. They will love you”

“Yes but there has been so much drama surrounding myself that I can’t help but be a little more than nervous.” She thinks back to the phone call Damian received yesterday, unsure of how this ‘Brown’ person would receive her. 

“No reason to be unless you are truly uncomfortable with everything that happened? You never did tell me how you felt about all that?”

“Oh yea,” Damian scowls. Of course she forgot this had affected her too. Her own privacy to be exact. “Well is everything cleared up between you guys?”

Now it was Damians turn to be uncomfortable. “We haven't talked, but I let them know I was no longer upset.” Damian mumbles, thankful that he is driving so he had a reason not to meet Marinette's eyes. 

“Hmm, perhaps I should talk to the boys,”

“Why?”

“Well they did listen to my phone call, that is definitely something we need to discuss” Her tone was off. It was like she was trying to sound serious but sarcasm laced ever syllable as well. If he hadn’t glanced at her just then, he would have missed the smirk, now leaving her lips as she tried to school her expression. 

“What are you up too?” 

“I am up to nothing Damian. This is a serious conversation.” Yea no, not even Dick would fall for that. 

“I trust you will tell me what you really want to talk about with them later.” He wouldn’t pry anymore, but he wasn’t going to drop it either. Marinette only smiles softly at him, reaching her hand to trace his jaw line. The action leaving him distracted and hyper aware at the same time. 

“All in good time Love, just trust me on this one.” 

“You play dirty” He growls out, grip tightening around the wheel. Again she laughs, repeating her earlier action. 

“I know you love me” She teases cheekily, before bringing their conversation away from the topic of family and onto miscellaneous, trivial ones. Damian responds idly, enjoying having her back in his presence. Soon they reach the broad gates of Wayne manor, hidden behind the thick foliage making Marinette feel even more like an outsider. 

Damian climbs out of the car, waiting for Marinette to join him at his side. He glances behind him confused when she does not appear. A quick glance shows that she is still in the car, fists clenched as she takes a few deep breaths. Damian waits patiently for her to finish. 

When she finally climbs out of the car, her face shows confidence, while the trembling of her hands betray her nerves. Damian’s larger hand swallows her, Damian likes to think he is absorbing her nerves, and the smile she sends his way almost makes him believe that. 

“Oh I almost forgot” Damian reaches into his pocket, pulling a small box out. Marinette smiles softly at him before giving her hand to him to accept the ring. It is a simple silver band with one small pink stone embedded in the ring. It was perfect for the seamstress, nothing to snag on the fabric. 

“You didn't have to do that Damian”

“You are my fiance and tradition dictates I present you with a ring as a symbol of our status” Marinatte tries not to laugh but fails, breaking down into small giggles. 

“Also,” Damian leads her towards the ‘house’ once more, “I want to see how perceptive my family truly is” 

They walked inside, the liveliness of the manor there, but muted to the back of the house. The couple start to move to the back only to be halted when Damian is tackled to the ground. Marinette can’t help but gasp as he slides back to the front door.

“Uncle Dami! 

Damian carefully sits up, hugging the small girl to his chest. She may only be nine now, but she grew into her tamaranian strength everyday. “Hey there power-pop, stronger than the last time I see.”

The girl giggles, she lifts Damian off the ground, hugging him tightly. “Mom has been training me everyday. I can lift a small car now!” Her eyes are a bright green, alight with an energy that only a child knows. 

“Can you now power-pop? Do you mind putting me down, I would like to introduce you to someone.” Damian gasps for breath, rubbing his side. He was bound to have a few bruises by tonight, as he always did after seeing Mar’i. “This is Marinette.”

Marinette watches in temptation as the girl turns her attention to her. Her posture is relaxed, open and friendly. She was well muscled for her age, and probably the tallest as well, standing close to Marinette's shoulders, who was only 5’3’’. Marinette couldn’t help but love the contrast of her vivid green eyes to her midnight hair and sunset skin tone. She would grow to be a beautiful woman. 

“Hi I’m Mar’i.” She chirps, bouncing a little as she approaches Marinette for a hug. 

“Be gently power-pop, she's not used to your strength.” 

“Ok Uncle Dami.” Marinette gasps a little, if this was gentle, she felt bad for whatever kind of hug Damian received. 

“It’s nice to meet you too Mar’i you want to hear a secret.” The girl's eyes light up at the question. She nods eagerly, leaning in close.

“My friends call me Mari, just like your name.” Marinette whispers, side eyeing Damian with a smirk. He frowns at her, clearly put off by being out of the loop. 

“Really!?”

“Yup, do you think you could help think of another nickname for me?” Marinette continues to whisper. 

“I will think really hard! Do you have any superpowers or are you super cool like my dad?” Before Marinette can answer, a man enters behind her standing behind Mar’i with his hands on her shoulders. 

“Mar’i what have we said about asking those kinds of questions. Not everyone is Meta or comfortable admitting they are Meta. You are free to talk about yourself, but don’t ask those questions.” 

“Sorry Dad, sorry Marinette.” 

“To answer your question Mar’i, no I don't have superpowers, but I can perform magic and have magic friends. Would you like to meet them?” Marinette smiles at the girl, relaxing when the excitement returns to her eyes. 

“Can I? Where are they?” 

Tikki and Kaalki fly out of their hiding places, smiling at the girl as well. She giggles when Mar’i only grows more excited, firing off questions a mile a minute. With a defeated shake of his head, the man holds out his hand to Marinette. 

“Dick Grayson, it's a pleasure to finally meet you.” He moves them off to a sitting area beside the entryway. 

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng, likewise. Your daughter is precious, I can’t imagine how much of a handful she must be though.” 

“You have no idea,” he chuckles with a glance back at his daughter, “Mar’i Grayson if you want to fly, go outside.” 

“Com’on Tikki and Kaalki I want to see how high you can fly!” The adults all show variations of amusement and exasperation at Mar’i’s excitement as she darts out the front door, the kwami close behind. 

The adults left in the room jump, the sound of breaking glass and swearing echoing from down the hall. Dick only pinches the bridge of his nose muttering to himself. “I am so thankful I don’t live here anymore”

Damian only shares a look with Marinette, who is already moving down the hall to investigate. He watches as she takes quick glances at the pictures lining the walls, Alfred putting careful attention into each and everyone. Damian wasn’t fond of pictures, but had realized at a young age that they helped recreate the good memories. 

The sounds of an argument grow as they come closer to the kitchen. Damian knew what kind of scene awaited him behind the swinging door, Marinette however would be horrified. She was as meticulous in the kitchen as she was with her sewing. She cleaned as she went, and put everything away after it was used. Her kitchen was never left with a blemish, and she almost took his head off the first time he tried to help her cook dinner. 

He watched as she pushed open the door, taking in the scene in front of her. Tim stood with his back to her, a handheld broom clenched in his fist as he waved it around to emphasize his words. 

Jason stood glaring on the other side of the kitchen island yelling back. Alfred stood off to the side, exasperated at their antics, choosing to continue cooking, leaving the young men to their own devices. 

“What has Alfred been teaching you?” Jason shouts, gesturing wildly at the broken glass and pasta sauce splatter from floor to counter to ceiling.

“To cook unlike you, at least I can be in the kitchen by myself without it bursting into flames.”

“Yeah because all you know is how to use the microwave.”

“Says the king of microwavable dinners for one”

“Why you-” Jason stops from leaping over the counter at Tim, his eyes widening at the sight of Marinette standing in the doorway. Tim turns in confusion before also freezing in what could be fear or shock, Damian couldn’t tell. 

“Hello Miss Marinette, it is wonderful to meet you after all this time.” Alfred comes over, taking her hand in his own. Marinette smiles at him, his hands are soft, but not as soft as his eyes. If this man was a part of Damian’s family, then she truly had nothing to worry about. 

“I feel the same,” Marinette can feel the love he has for his family. Though he continues to age more each year, he continues to serve them with all the care he can give. “I look forward to getting to know you.” Alfread plays with Marinette’s ring, giving her a mischievous smile before turning back to the stove. 

The boys still hadn’t moved, they stood defensively, waiting for Marinette to strike. From their viewpoint they feel like cornered prey, Marinellte the Lioness, waiting for the proper moment to strike. Both men begin to sweat, the mess quickly forgotten. She gently takes the broom and dustpan from Tim, leaning down to sweep up what she can, thankful that she had not removed her shoes at the door. They watch with trepidation as she cleans their mess, until all sauce she could reach is wiped up and the kitchen just one step back into order as it was before. 

“Alfred, what are you cooking? It smells delicious.” The boys flinch as Marinette finally speaks after the long silence. 

“A simple dish for the boys to learn and Miss Mar’i’s favorite. Spaghetti with corn bread.”

“Wonderful, I have not had many dishes related to American-Italian food, I can’t wait to try it” 

“You can thank the boys here, they did most of the work” Marinette finally turned her full attention towards them, giving them a soft smile. 

“Thank you for cooking dinner for us.” Damian is trying his best to contain his laughter, they could only give her a shaking nod of their heads, eyes still wide. She only continues to smile at them, gently taking the spoon from Alfred. 

“Why don’t I help the boys finish dinner, that way you can relax for the night. Spend some time with Mar’i?” Alfred pats her cheek gently.

“Thank you Miss Marinette, the cornbread is on a timer and the noodles only need to be drained soon, vegetables are also on a timer.” Damian walks with Alfred back down the hall, smiling proudly alongside his grandfather. 

"Those boys are in for a surprise Damian" Alfred chuckles, leaning on Damians arm. 

"She's up to something, that's for sure" with one last backwards glance at the swinging door, Damian leads Alfred to the sitting Area, joining Dick and Bruce in the relaxing environment. 

Back in the kitchen Marinette hums softly, continuing dinner preparations while the boys have tried to distance themselves as far as they possibly can from the young woman. 

Jason sits stiffly on his stool, hands gripping his knees until his knuckles are white. He sends constant glances at the door, wondering if he should run or face her lecture like a man. Her humming was starting to put him on edge. Marinette Dupain-Cheng has not behaved like one would expect in this situation. Jason was flying blind. 

Tim, on the other hand, is trying to control his shaking by sitting with perfect posture for once, hands folded neatly in front of his on the marble top. With a glance you would picture him to be perfectly calm, if it were not for the beads of sweat on his brow or the constant fidgeting with his hands. He too was confused and on edge. He knew few women on a very personal level, and each and every one of them scared him, but at least he knew what to expect. Marinette being completely calm and unreactive left his head spinning. 

Both boys were used to yelling and even fist being thrown. Not gentleness and kindness. Just when the silence was getting too much to bear, she spoke again. 

"I must thank you both, you would have made a paranoid old man feel very justified" she sends another one of those smiles over her shoulder before turning back to the pasta mixture. 

“What?” They echo off each other. 

“My master saw a movie one day where they were listening in on phone calls. After that, he insisted we talked in code with each other when it related to temple business.” Content that the food was good to leave alone for a moment she turns to face the boys, almost laughing at their equally confused and tense facial expressions. 

“Glad we could help?” Tim is at a loss for how to proceed. Damian yelled at them, shouldn’t Marinette too? How would Damian even find someone this polar opposite from him? This must be a mind game, no other explanation. Tim would not lose. 

“Can you please just get this over with, we can take anything you have to say” Jason finally snaps, instantly regretting his tone but he couldn't take the drawn out punishment any longer. Hugging Bruce for twenty-four hours would be preferable to this. 

“And what, Jason, am I getting done and over with?” Damian had mentioned his brothers every so often, only in passing stories or complaints. It was quite easy to see who was who. Jason was known for being a hot head, quick to speak. Tim on the other hand, Damian had bragged about being taller than him, and well, he was clearly the shorter of the two. 

“Yelling at us for everything we did to you.” 

She smirks at them, leaning on her elbows staring at them in such a way they couldn’t help but feel as though she was searching their souls. Maybe she was; they didn’t know what kind of magic she knew afterall. 

“Oh that, I don’t care about that.” She shuts off the timer, removing the bread carefully while the boys processed her words. 

“You-you don’t care that we listened to your phone call?” Tim is the first to speak.

“Or the background check we did on you?”  Jason finishes. The boys relax a little, but again Tim is waiting for the rug to be pulled from under his feet (like that hadn’t been happening since she stepped foot in the kitchen). Jason had stopped looking at the door, hyperfocusing on Marinette body language. She was relaxed, moving about the kitchen like she had cooked within its walls her whole life. 

“Nope.” She says it with such sweet innocence, they obviously had different perceived notions on the seriousness of the topic. 

“Why?” 

“Because it's your job. How many times have you had to do something like this and it helped you save countless lives?” She easily finds the strainer in the first cabinet she checks. 

“Uh,”

“I can say I do not like or prefer my privacy being overstepped, but how can I hold that against you? How can I be upset by something that you do to protect people, especially those you love.” 

“What?” Each boy's response continues to be more intelligent than the last. 

Marinette giggles, “So no I am not mad at you guys for those actions.”

Tim narrows her eyes at her words, “That insinuates that you are upset with us about something.”

“Yes I am saddened by one thing and that is, that you don’t trust Damian.” She has stopped smiling, giving each boy a heartbroken look. She gives them time to think, finishing dinner preparations. 

“Of course we trust him,” Jason starts, offended that she would declare such a thing. Look at them with such disdain and judgment. Who was she to judge him and behave like she knows everything. 

“Yeah, he always has our backs, we would have died more times than we can count if he wasn’t there” Tim is now also on the offensive. Why did he fear her words again? She clearly knew nothing and was only on Damians side, her view of the situation had been tainted. 

Marinette watched each boy express their anger and pain. She sighs a little at their pride, but hopefully this conversation wouldn’t be too painful. 

“You trust him with those things, yes, but do you trust him with his own decisions?” Seeing that they didn’t have an immediate response, she continued on. 

“Have you ever let Damian make any decisions on his own? Even if you knew they could or would result in mistakes?”

“Of course we have, we aren’t Bruce or Alfred after all.” Jason grumbles, still put off by where the conversation was heading. He would rather she had just yelled at them by this point. 

“Then why didn’t you listen to him?” The sound of her stool scraping against the floor sends a feeling of unease through the room. 

“Because we-” Tim falters. “Because we thought we knew best” He finishes weakly.

“We just want to protect him,” Jason adds in defense, “We have been through things like this before. Better safe than sorry.”

“And is it better?” She takes a hold of their left and right hand respectively. “Is it better to lose a relationship with your brother or be there for him when he needs it?” 

She lets them process her words, their eyes are looking anywhere but at her, brows creased with thought and worry. 

“But he could have-” Jason starts angrily before glancing at Tim, the door, then Marinette. Jason couldn’t finish, she might not know, and the last thing he needed was to say something to break them up and get on Damians bad side again. 

“You were afraid he could die again?” The boys wanted to be shocked he told her, but clearly Marinette was a special woman. She squeezes their hands, the boys feeling calm and comfort now instead of anger. 

“We are all human. We all make mistakes,” Tim flinches, “But if we don’t, then how are we supposed to gain knowledge and growth?”

“But some mistakes are irreversible.” Jason mumbles.

“That is true, and those are the most painful.”

“We have made some of those mistakes, and we know how it ends, we can help stop him from living with our regrets” Tim argues, desperate to show Marinette how much good he meant, that he just wanted Damian to stay safe. 

She only smiles, “And that is a desire I never want you guys to push away, but you can’t protect him from everything. You can’t control everything, and you most certainly can’t control another person.”

Jason felt like he was slapped across the face just then. When had he started to behave like Bruce? When had he become so overbearing? 

Tim felt the knots retie in his stomach, and the constriction of his lungs retightened. He didn’t want to be controlling, but he needed to be in control. Now he was frustrated by this clear paradox. 

“Instead,” they focus in on her words, as the tone is a hopeful one, “Share with him your knowledge, give advice when he asks, and most importantly,” They are breathless now, completely captivated by her voice and eyes. Her eyes are intense, clearly this point needs to be taken to heart, while also having a soft edge to them, she isn’t angry, she is patient. 

“Be there for him when he needs you. It is better to have a relationship then a partnership isn’t it?” She waits a beat for her words to sink in before hopping off the stool to finish dinner, leaving the boys to process. 

“Thank you Marinette,” Jason is the first to speak, coming to stand beside her, helping her plate everything. “He picked a good one” She flushes at his words, flattered and embarrassed. The three adults are now content, a relationship of understanding growing between them. 

To bring a sense of normalcy, Jason launches into as many embarrassing stories of Damian he can recount while they finish dinner and set the table next door. Tim chimes in every now and then to correct him, or add detail, but otherwise stays out of the conversation. Marinette laughs heartily at each story, glad that there was still something to learn about Damian. She is glad to finally meet his family, after all she missed her own overseas. 

“And then he comes home with a cow right, don’t know how or where and he refused to tell us.” Marinette giggles at the idea of preteen Damian dragging a cow through the front doors of the Manor. They are walking the halls to retrieve the family for dinner when raised voices from the sitting area give the three adults a sense of urgency. 

Rounding the corner Marinette watches as a blond woman bares down on Damian, her finger in his face. He only looks annoyed, staring her down with narrowed eyes. Rather she would be bearing down if not for the height difference. She was almost standing on her tiptoes to get into Damian’s face. 

“You haven’t changed at all in the last decade!” The woman yells. “Stubborn and wrong to a fault again!” Her face flushed red, muscles tightened and her entire posture tense. 

Damian flinches, his body shifting only the slightest. The only outward sign that what was said hurt him. His arms wrap tighter around his body, spine straight. Marinette narrows her eyes before marching over and pushing herself into the woman's personal space. 

She takes a step back, blinking in surprise at the smaller asian woman invading her space. Her eyes widen when she finally processes who exactly is in front of her. “You-” she snaps her mouth shut however, her sentence unfinished. 

Stephanie is unsure what kind of person she is dealing with. While she stands defensively in front of Damian, her petite stature leaves her confused on whether or not she was truly a threat. However when Stephanie looks her in the eyes, she knows the answer to that question. There is more to her than there seems. Her eyes are hard in the iris, no other sign showed her clear anger at Stephanie. Or was Stephanie imagining the anger? She looked like she was going to cry more than anything.

"Steph that is enough" Tim grabs her hand, pulling her from the room. "Even I know that was uncalled for." She flinches at his quiet anger, bowing her head.Alfred continues to observe his new granddaughter. While she did well to hold herself with dignity, it was clear that she was just as upset as Damian about the words spoken. Marinette sighs deeply before turning to face the occupants of the room. Jason had taken a seat next to Dick at some point, whispering fiercely into his ear, a smug grin on his face. Marinette turns to Bruce, extending her hand. 

“It is a pleasure to finally meet you” 

“Likewise,” Bruce is surprised at the sight of the ring as she pulls her hand back. He was unaware that things between the two were so serious. One glance to Damian solidifies the fact in Bruce's mind. He looked so relaxed and in love, despite the tense situation just moments prior. 

Even as Damian grew up, his tough personality made it difficult for him to let people get close to him, and for people to desire to get close. Bruce thinks Damian never truly realized how lonely that was until he had graduated highschool. He was overjoyed for his son to finally let someone into his heart and to freely give his away. That was a truly proud moment for Bruce. 

“Please continue to stay by Damians side.” He does not quite know why he would request such a thing from her, just that he did not regret asking once he saw the resolve on her face. 

“I can’t imagine leaving him” Bruce nods, glad to hear her words, "and I apologize for the chaos i have brought to your home" 

"My dear, you have done no such thing. Their nightly activities have left them high strung and on edge" Alfred gently reminds her, "They get a little stuck in their heads on occasion" 

Marinette looks like she's about to argue with him, but a gentle touch to her shoulder from Damian has her smiling politely at Alfred instead. 

"Learn to accept you're not responsible for everything" Damian scowls at her, that only has her scowling right back. 

"I was just-" 

"Being ridiculous like always" Damian quickly finishes for her, giving her shoulder another squeeze. 

“What is it, my little bumgorf?" The room turns at the sound of the newcomer, Marinette gasping softly. Her skin was a glowing amber that contrasted like a sunset with her vibrant red hair. Her otherworldly green eyes were bright with joy. Marinette had never seen a more beautiful woman who would honestly make a great model for her line. That skin tone. 

 Dick rises, giving the woman a chaste kiss before settling his arm around her waist. “Marinette I would like you to meet my wife, Kori” 

“Nice to meet you” Marineete once again extends her hand but Kori pulls her into a hug, Marinette laughs. 

“Oh I’m so excited to have you join the family” 

“I can’t wait to get to know everybody”

"Mom, I'm hungry can we please eat now? Mar’i is pouting, both kwami sitting contently on her shoulders. 

"Of course my little bumgorf." The women decide to move to the dining room, the men following behind. Jason claps Damian on the back, pulling him into a hug. 

“Sorry for not trusting you. Marinette is quite the woman and you are very lucky.” Before Damian can respond, he moves ahead, cheeks flushed the slightest. 

“Wow, she can get Jason to apologize willingly” Dick laughs, before following after Jason, “Jay! Come back here” Father and son are left alone in the hall, both slowing their pace the slightest.

“I was unaware things were this serious” 

“She accepted everything about me”

“Everything?”

“She forgave me for my past actions,” Damian hesitates for a moment, but decides to push forward, “She said she loves me no matter what” 

“That is a very special trait to have” with that Bruce leaves, but not before gripping his youngest son's shoulder, the fatherly pride at his growth, both emotionally and physically. He is a fine young man. He can feel the emotions welling up, and quickly makes his leave, not comfortable with the vulnerability he associates with 'mushy' love. 

Damian smiles at his father's retreating figure and chuckles. Some things never change and he is thankful for that. Dinner goes smoothly for the rest of the night, Stephanie making up with the members of the room, the Kwamii introduced and questions answered. Dinner finished and goodbyes exchanged, Marinette promising to visit Kor’i and Mar’i soon. Damian and Marionette find themselves sitting in the car, each processing the night. Marionette seemed content with the outcome of the night humming softly to herself. The moon was still yellow and low in the sky, signifying the night had only begun. 

“So you gonna tell me what you talked to my brothers about?”

“You.”

“What about me?” 

“How sometimes the relationship is more important than the choices the other person makes.” Damian does respond right away after that, eyes narrowed in thought. 

“How did they take that?”

“Very well I think, but change doesn’t happen overnight so I’m sure their first reaction will be an overprotective one for awhile, so please be patient” 

“As long as I have you here to help me, I know I can change too” Marinette sighs happily at that, returning to watching the passing scenery out the window. Marinette watches in fascination as they approach the Wayne Tower in the middle of the city, entering the underground parking garage. Damian pulls into the secret entrance, parking the car in the large makeshift HQ. 

“Wow this is so cool. How does no one know that this is here?”

“We are very careful,” Bruce enters from a side room, already dressed for the night ahead. “Damian why did you bring Marinette here?” Bruce was already fond of his daughter-in-law to be and didn’t want her too close to the vigilante life. 

“I’m going out with you guys” She casually answers while exploring the area, looking at anything and everything. 

“What?” Jason and Tim say at the same time. One sounds incredulous while the other doesn’t seem too surprised. 

“I haven’t been out in so long, I can’t wait” She ignores the mens bewildered stares, looking towards the elevator. “Does that go all the way to the top?” 

“Yes, I’ll take you as soon as I’m ready.”

“Ok” She patiently waits for her love, continuing to examine the central computer station. “Look at this girls, isn’t this amazing. Imagine if we upgraded the temple with this stuff.”

“It would increase our appearance of wealth I guess,” Kalkki sighs, trying to not appear pleased at the obvious wealth her supreme has found herself in. 

“Come Habibti, we won't have all night,” Damian enters again in uniform this time. He wore a simple red and black ensemble, the trim of his cape and belt a muted yellow. His uniform differed from the other Robins with it being a tunic instead of a jumpsuit. His cape also had a hood and easy access to the sword on his lower back.

Marinete giggled all the way up to the top, Damian sending her questioning looks, which only made her laugh harder. Jason and Tim had decided to ride with them, curious as to why Marinette wanted to go to the roof. Exiting outside, Marinette takes a deep breath, enjoying the cityscape against the rising moon. With a quick flick of her fingers, she is engulfed in a deep red light. 

Damian admires her new look unabashedly. She wore what looked like a sleeveless tunic that went to her knees over a fully black bodysuit. Her tunic was red with black spots, trimmed in yellow with matching yellow tinted goggles. Her hair was hidden by the hood of her tunic and she had beautiful translucent wings at her back. 

“We match” She giggles again, dancing over to him on the tip of her toes. 

“At least I’ll know you’re mine” He caresses her face, hand trembling the slightest. Marinette can’t help but find the feel of his glove uncomfortable, clearly it was meant for grip, but she stayed still, letting Damian calm himself before they went out for the night. 

“Now please don’t be mad at me love, but I haven’t done this in so long” She starts after Damian had had his moment, slowly backing away  before taking a full run off the side of the tower. The boys gasp in fear, while Damian takes a deep breath through his nose. She can’t die, she can’t die. She can’t die. The mantra plays heavily in his head when he marches over the side, ready to chase after her. He watches as she free falls, her laugh ringing out through the city, possibly unnerving for the native. But to hear the joy she has behind it, he hopes everyone else is infected by it too. 

Marinette enjoys the feel of the wind around her, the hold gravity has over her stomach. She laughs at the feeling of adrenaline once again in a long time. Man she missed this. Finally she releases her wings, taking off through the Gotham air, dancing between buildings and gargoyles. 

She can feel him coming up behind her and slows herself enough for him to grab her, enjoying the sensation of being in her love's arms while swinging through the air. They touch down on a darkened rooftop, Each catching their breath. 

“You didn’t tell me you were a thrill seeker” He doesn’t sound mad, just reserved to the fact this this would be his life now. The worry and fear for her safety would never go away. But all in all, if it meant her joy and laughter, he would endure. 

“I haven’t free fell in so long, that was amazing!” She is still catching her breath, and still in his arms. As they both level out their breathing, they get lost in the other's gaze. 

“I love you Habibti,” Damian leans down to her, resting his forehead against her own, chuckling at the small antenna in the edge of her hair line. “I love you my little bug”

“And I love you my gorgeous Robin” She rises up to meet his lips, finding her home with him, and content with her choices. Ready to take on the world with him by her side. Partners in everything for the rest of their lives. Till death do they part. 

[a-student-out-of-time]

Rambling about V3 Again

Today I saw a really interesting quote from author Brandon Sanderson and it honestly got me thinking. He talked about what he considers the single worst thing you can do with critique in writing, and that’s if a critic “tries to make your story into one they would write, rather a better version of one you want to write.”

That got me thinking about V3.

I don’t think it’s a stretch to say that V3 is a very polarizing game, and I’ve seen many people talk about how they would’ve preferred to see the story play out, from character arcs to deaths to story conclusions. And while I do honestly enjoy seeing alternative perspectives and takes and AU’s, I feel like a lot about the game, what it’s trying to say and be, is skewed by those ideals.

I’m not saying that the critiques about the game are invalid, because there are a fair share of flaws with the game. What I am saying is that we end up talking so much about what we wish V3 could’ve been that what V3 was trying to be often ends up lost in that, and I want to talk about it.

It wasn’t until I really saw this quote that I was able to articulate all my likes and dislikes about the game and the reactions to it into a cohesive whole, which is what I’d like to do here.

So let’s ask this: what was V3 really trying to be?

Let’s start from the game’s theme: the relationship between truth and lies. This is best exemplified by the fact that you have the option to lie during trials, that you can use deception to find the truth. That’s a very different take from the previous games, where hope was associated with finding and confronting the truth.

Kokichi is another example, as he’s a self-admitted liar who claims to lead a criminal organization and it’s hard to tell exactly what he’s thinking or saying. Yet Kokichi actually helps bring the group to several truths: he helps find the culprit in trials, he reveals Maki’s identity as the Ultimate Assassin, tells the truth about Gonta murdering Miu and it’s thanks to his actions that the group later discovers the reality of their situation.

Throughout their journey, the group is confronted by numerous truths they don’t want to acknowledge, even refusing to do so and attacking people who continue to push them through. And with every revelation, there’s always those lingering details that don’t really make a lot of sense.

Let’s look at the game’s main narrative. At the start of the game, Kaede remembers she was kidnapped in broad daylight, thrown into a van, and brought to some abandoned school with a bunch of other people. She doesn’t act like a particularly nice person and is dressed differently, at least until the Monokubs arrive and give everyone their new clothes and memories. From that point, the narrative shifts considerably.

Kaede is suddenly an outgoing, optimistic leader and Shuichi is a sullen, withdrawn detective who serves as her deuteragonist for Chapter 1. She’s resolved to escape the Killing Game and tries to rally the group together. However, when her methods don’t prove successful and they start drifting away from her, she considers saving them by any means necessary and goes so far as to attempt murder against the mastermind. When that happens, she’s found guilty and executed, leaving Shuichi to take up her role as protagonist.

As you go through the game, using devices called flashback lights that apparently reawaken lost memories, you learn more and more about the reason that the group was brought here: the Gofer Project. When meteors began raining down on earth, all seemed lost until they established this project to send a group of survivors into space to colonize a new planet. A group of Ultimates.

They had established early on that Ultimates have even greater rights in this world: they’re the only ones allowed to vote and hold office. As the meteors came down and the news of this project got out, some people formed a cult that believed it was divine judgement and that mankind should be destroyed. That’s when they began the Ultimate Hunt, pursuing the candidates for the Gofer Project across the world. The Ultimates, with no other way out, decided to erase their memories of talent and live their last days as normal people.

To protect them, the people in charge spread a false story that the Ultimates had died, even holding a fake funeral for them and sent them into space secretly. However, while everyone was in cold sleep, one member of the cult- Kokichi- had sneaked aboard and piloted the ship back to the ruined and now inhospitable earth. They have no way back and no way to survive outside, and thanks to Kokichi’s claims to be the mastermind, they’ve been killing each for nothing. The group ultimately loses hope.

However, they’re resolved to continue on in their fight against the mastermind when they find a flashback light that reveals they weren’t just any ultimates: they were the next generation of ultimates from Hope’s Peak Academy. It wasn’t really the meteorites that got everyone, it was an alien virus that pushed mankind to the brink of extinction. That the cult that rose in the wake of this was Ultimate Despair.

That seems like a definitive way to link this game with its predecessors...until you really begin to stop and pick it apart. If this was about saving mankind, why did nobody have their memories right away? Why would you only bring 16 people? Why students who don’t make them suited to colonization? Why people like a death row inmate, a serial killer, a self-proclaimed liar and criminal, and an assassin?

Furthermore, going through many Fte’s highlights how much of the characters’ backstories seem very out there. Gonta wasn’t raised by wolves but a race of dinosaur people living in the woods, Kirumi is so hyper-competent that she became prime minister during the meteor crisis, Korekiyo’s killed almost 100 women and yet has never been caught, Maki can attend high school despite Japanese orphanages being too underfunded for kids to usually attend, Tenko’s neo-aikido breaks all the rules of traditional aikido and she's impulsive, has low pain tolerance, and disregards fair rules, none of which are very befitting of a martial artist.

And to conclude, even I thought that the reveal of their connection to Hope’s Peak felt very fanficy and out there, especially when the game had made no references or implications of it beforehand. But the reason for all of this is simple and effective:

None of this is real. It’s all staged.

Chapter 6 reveals that everything from their identities to the outside world they thought they knew was all just a fabrication. In truth, Tsumugi shows herself as the mastermind and that they’re actually in the 53rd season of an in-universe show called Danganronpa. Something alluded to even in the beginning of the game with the Team Danganronpa logo. This moment was very make or break for a lot of people, but let’s treat it fairly.

According to Tsumugi, the outside world has become a peaceful, boring place and Danganronpa is the only source of real entertainment the people have. A place where people literally come to have their identities replaced with those of Ultimates and then made to kill each other. This, as it turns out, was an outgrowth of the actual series we’d played before. A game that’s gone over 53 times.

This revelation is devastating for the characters. The lives and memories they’d known were all fabrications, which Tsumugi claims to have intentionally written. The Flashback lights were designed to implant fake memories to manipulate them, which is why that Hope’s Peak connection was set up after everyone gave up following the reveal of the outside world. A truth that could lead the world to despair, a lie that could lead the world to hope.

She even goes so far as to show everyone’s audition tapes, claiming that Kaede, Kaito, and Shuichi himself were willing to participate in the killings out of sheer misanthropy, popularity, and morbid excitement 

Kiibo is also revealed to be the audience’s means of interacting with the game, able to carry out their wishes and can even be hijacked and used as a way to fight against the characters’ decisions.

In the end, Tsumugi claims that the ongoing battle of hope vs despair needs to continue in perpetuity and that the survivors need to sacrifice someone, since only two people can survive Danganronpa. Shuichi, however, convinces Maki and Himiko not to vote for anyone and actually convinces the in-universe audience to give up on the series. Kiibo then blows the set to hell and allows Shuichi, Maki, and Himiko the chance to escape and see the world outside and what sort of influence they could have.

Now, let’s this break this down piece by piece here, because I feel like this part of the game is often conflated. Often I’ve seen people say that Chapter 6 is a giant middle finger to fans of the series, that nothing about the series really mattered, or that the flaws of the game can simply be attributed to bad writing on the creator’s part.

I honestly used to be in that camp myself, but the more I’ve thought about it, the more I feel those statements don’t hold up to scrutiny. We often conflate writing and narrative decisions we don’t like with bad writing. However, if the creator deliberately wants the narrative to move in that direction and has made intentional foreshadowing, references, and motivations that match it, we can’t simply equate that with it being “badly written.”

It’s not bad simply because we would’ve preferred they do something different. There’s a lot of very acclaimed books out there that I’ll admit I don’t care for because of their narrative decisions, but I wouldn’t go so far as to say they’re badly-written.

Furthermore, if something intentionally doesn’t make sense in-story, that is not bad writing. That is purposeful on the part of the creator, not a plot hole. The Gofer Project is not supposed to be a logical narrative, it’s meant to serve V3′s role: deconstruction of the nature of the series. It does this in many different ways:

Sequelization: 53 is a ridiculous amount of entries in a franchise and as I’m sure we’re all aware, as the number of entries goes up, the writing quality tends to go down. The Gofer Project story was purposefully meant to be nonsensical because it’s a story in an in-universe franchise that jumped the shark long ago.

A lot of people found it confusing or ridiculous that Shuichi and Kaede would have a romantic connection despite knowing each other barely a few days. That’s also the point; quick romances are a convenient narrative device to establish a means for character growth, followed by fridging her, a bad narrative trope designed to propel Shuichi toward development. Tsumugi even said as much during Chapter 6.

Similarly, Maki’s role in the story and her feelings for Kaito were reminiscent of that as well, with him helping her come out of her shell. 

When you go back, you can see Danganronpa is loaded with references to other series. Tsumugi is an obsessive otaku and went so far as to fill the entire story with deliberate references and callbacks to things she enjoys.

The Monokubs are deliberate references to executive decisions to add more marketable and merchandisable characters as the series drags on.

The fact that there are (supposedly) people willing to sign up for a killing game deconstructs the idea that some in the fandom may have had. That is, actually being in a killing game would not be fun or exciting, but horrific and traumatizing. Most of us wouldn’t be badass detectives or heroes, we’d be scared out of our minds, afraid, and want to find a way out.

Furthermore, Shuichi being repeatedly told that he’s just a fictional character and that his role is to be the protagonist, to go through hardships and come out stronger for the audience’s entertainment pisses him off so much that he wants no part of it. 

The climax is ultimately a deconstruction of what the series is famous for: the battle of hope vs. despair. In-universe, this has been reduced down to a simple narrative where the audience wants the same thing again and again: to see hope win in the end. Because hope keeps winning, the audience keeps wanting more. It’s become so formulaic that the audience doesn’t want to break out of its shell and just wants to see it over and over.

The final PTA against Kiibo is not meant to be an insult to the audience, but a representation of fighting against toxicity and entitlement in the fanbase, especially the ones that don’t want change. It’s not saying “you’re stupid for liking this series,” it’s saying “don’t be like these people.”

And how does the game? An unsatisfying ending that’s so bad that it drives the audience to give up on the show, finally allowing the killing to stop. Tsumugi decides she can’t live in a world without her favorite show and decides to die.

And that brings me to what I think is the ultimate thing that people conflate about the ending: that it’s all fiction, so nothing about it matters. That the entire franchise was fake, so it’s not worth your time.

That’s exactly the opposite of what V3 is trying to say.

First, Tsumugi is a completely unreliable narrator. The kind of person who let fiction consume her entire life, yet she believes it can’t change reality. She’s a liar and a hypocrite, and there’s no way of knowing if anything she says about the outside world is even true. It could be like she says or it might not be.

The fact that they have technology that can remove memories and add fake ones adds an entire dimension of ambiguity to everything she says, especially when you consider how the beginning of the game does not match up with what she says. We have no idea what the kids were really like before the killing game, so why should we believe anything she says?

And how can we be certain of her claims that she just wrote everything as planned? Kokichi and Kaito managed to put together a plan that completely threw her and Monokuma for a loop

Shuichi, Maki, and Himiko ultimately choosing to take the words of Kaede, Kaito, and Tenko to heart, even if they were part of a fictional narrative, is proof that they still had an influence on the trio. They choose to take something meaningful from their experiences regardless of the reality of their situation. And that’s something we all do.

The media we consume has an influence over who we are as people, and it’s part of why so many of us have such strong attachments to works we love. They were often influential in help shape who we are as people now, for good and for ill, and it’s important to take that into account.

V3′s message is that yes, that is important, and that you should read and enjoy stories and fiction, just as long as you don’t let it consume your life. They can influence you and even the world at large, and so it’s our responsibility as writers, artists, and creators to use that influence positively, to use the medium as a way to change the world for the better. That the only way for stale franchises that we’re tired of seeing over and over is to demand change, even if that means walking out on them. That the only way for things to change is for us to take action and demand change.

And by the end, we may not see immediate results, but we can at least work hard at trying to bring them about. V3 ends with Shuichi, Maki, and Himiko facing an uncertain future in a world they really know nothing about, but hopeful that their actions can and will change the world for the better. Real life doesn’t have solid, satisfying conclusions and it always doesn’t play out like a story, but that doesn’t mean you should give up on ever finding something satisfying or hopeful out there.

This, by no means, is me saying that V3 is a flawless story. I can point to numerous critiques that I still think hold water. However, Sanderson’s point is that we shouldn’t criticize a work based on what we wish it was rather than how it is and what it was trying to do.

I know there’s a lot about the story that bothers people, I know there’s a lot that wasn’t polished and a lot that feels uncomfortable and hard to swallow. Like Shuichi, coming out feeling confused, lost, unsure of what to do, but choosing to see merit and things to take to heart even in a story that turned out to be full of lies and uncomfortable truths.

If you didn’t enjoy V3, I wouldn’t force you to enjoy it. If you did love it, then you should love it. These are all just my thoughts on a story that, as time goes on, honestly feels more and more relevant to me.

[fatalism-and-villainy]

Nobody asked for a Qi Ye reaction post but here one is nonetheless (at almost 1500 words.... hello.)

[~spoilers~]

One of the first things I can say is that I love love LOVE Priest’s writing style. It’s hard to say how much of this is a translation thing, because I did get the vibe that this translation was a lot smoother and better than the other cnovel translations I happen to have read. But god!! Her style is very densely allusive, and a challenge to follow at times, but so so beautiful. The story’s narration also shifts perspective a lot in the middle of chapters, which gives it this almost cinematic bird’s eye effect for me (except with internal-emotional states more than visuals). I can see it being the kind of thing that might bother people, but I love it – and I think that it ties in with the themes about the ephemerality and impermanence of life, and the way these little moments are all part of a much bigger sphere of existence.

I also like the way she does humour more than MXTX, honestly? I find the slapstick humour in MXTX’s works to be overdone and distracting from the other story and characterization work going on in her works. Whereas here, the humour landed more and also felt like it tied in more with the actual development of character and themes. Like, for instance, Liang Jiuxiao’s battle with the sable wherein he gets scratched every time and exhausts Beiyuan’s entire supply of antidote – it’s over the top, but also genuinely funny to me, AND I feel the comedic setup of Liang Jiuxiao constantly being an unwanted visitor contrasts very well with the entire heartbreaking scenario involving Beiyuan drugging him for Zhou Zishu, as well as his general progression from a Pure of Heart, Dumb of Ass archetype to being completely shattered by the evil and corruption in the world.

(The Sex and Kissing stuff is also, imo, more sensual and generally hotter to me than MXTX’s stuff – not trying to pick on her specifically, she’s just my only point of comparison for these novels.)

The main romance is ehhh… Mixed Feelings? I loved Wu Xi in all the parts he wasn’t playing the role of “love interest who expresses their love via violent jealousy”, but the parts where he WAS…. woof. Like, I don’t necessarily mind jealousy when it’s internal sensations, or when it’s a very intentionally fucked up dynamic, but I like it less so when it’s couple who’s riding off into the sunset and are the only foil to the general aura of melancholy and sadness in a story? Really hope that’s a one-off specific piece of characterization and not a general Thing for Priest…

I did actually like the gradual development of Beiyuan’s feelings, and the way there’s no Big Moment of Realization – or rather, there is a moment of realization, but it’s not super dramatic, it’s just sort of settling into something that’s been there awhile.

Another problem with their relationship for me though, I think, is how rushed the denouement of the book is, and how many important things are glossed over. Like, okay, they’re riding off into the sunset, but are they actually going to talk about the fact that Beiyuan seduced Wu Xi for Deception Purposes and then drugged him…? Taking advantage of Wu Xi’s very earnest and intense feelings in the process? Like, they stay in the capital for three months of negotiations before they leave, all while Wu Xi hides Beiyuan in his house – there must have been conversations and Relationship Negotiations? And yet we don’t See any of that, we’re just treated to them riding off in a carriage with some cheeky little line about how Beiyuan has the rest of his life to make things up to Wu Xi (presumably by having rough sex)… like ok.

The racism… there was a lot of it in the presentation of Nanjiang! I think the thing that stood out to me though was the line about Wu Xi’s having a kind of intuitive understanding of how people are (an intuition attributed to children, even!) despite not being cultured – it slots so perfectly into the kind of colonial propaganda that posits colonized people as having this innate, intuitive understanding of the world or connection with nature or what have you – but of course they’re not mature, they’re not cultured, they don’t have the capacity for rationality, that we do. To be fair, the line I’m thinking of is also applied to Liang Jiuxiao, but it is of a piece with how Nanjiang is characterized throughout the novel – like, oh, they’re so simple! When they like someone they just get married! It’s presented as a romantic ideal, but in a way that portrays Nanjiang as being Simple and Rustic and lacking the cultural complexity of the Great Qing. (Especially since we b a r e l y see the country or its people on the page.)

(Not to mention the way Wu Xi’s bodyguards from Nanjiang are portrayed as being confused and grossed out by him being in love with a man – contrasted with the commentary about how commonplace sex between men is in the Great Qing. Feels very like Nanjiang gets cast as less “enlightened”?)

I think those elements are also part of why the romance doesn’t fully stick its landing for me – because Wu Xi does take in and consider Great Qing cultural stuff, and incorporate it into his worldview alongside the influence of his home culture – and we don’t see Beiyuan doing something similar in return. He wants to leave for Nanjiang in part because he’s exhausted with capital politics and wants freedom, but why Nanjiang specifically? What does the country mean to him? How’s he actually going to fit in there? (This is another thing that also could have been filled in more with more actual writing about what goes down after that final battle.)

I honestly was deeply moved by Helian Yi. I shed literal tears for that man on multiple occasions. I do feel like I would have benefitted from more actual exploration of his past life-relationship with Beiyuan? Because as it was, I felt like that aspect of Beiyuan’s characterization was kind of informed rather than fleshed out – what did he see in Helian Yi in the first place? And I think the unrequited love would have been more poignant if we’d had more flashbacks to when it was requited.

Also, the possible-incest reveal?? What even was the point of that…? (I know people have posited that that’s why Helian Yi originally had Beiyuan killed, but with that final deleted-on-JJWXC extra I feel like it’s meant to be that he thought Beiyuan was responsible for Su Qingluan’s death. Another thing that should have been elaborated on, plot-wise…)

In general, the ending was very rushed. It gave me distinct “project due the next day” vibes.

ZHOU ZISHU!!!! – my main emotional engagement with this, tbh. I loved what was done with him, loved getting to see more of the atrocities he was behind (haha), loved the chilling “ends justify the means” ideological track he was on, loved how enmeshed he was in Hierarchy and political intrigue and how Carefully he handled himself around his social superiors… yeah.  

I am also…. Also losing my mind over the entire Vibe between Zhou Zishu and Liang Jiuxiao. Misplaced devotion… broken pedestals… weird subtextual hard-to-define Feelings... selfishly wanting to hide the worst parts of yourself from someone…. Ahhhhh it’s good. Love those intricate complex homoerotic friendships. If there Exists any fic (whether platonic or less so) that anyone wants to rec… pls do 👀

I have to say, another problem I had with the ending was that I don’t think the tonal dissonance was well-balanced. Like, there’s a very melancholy atmosphere for pretty much everyone except the main couple, and I do understand that their getting away from the capital is the only thing that engenders that happiness (as a big theme of the book is that the politicking in the capital is exhausting and demoralizing – and to my understanding that is similar to the themes at work in Faraway Wanderers.) But I don’t feel as though those two streams were working in communication with each other in the final chapters – I would say that the cutesy scenes with the main couple just felt jarring in contrast to the sadness and regret that permeated the rest of the narrative. I think perhaps they were too saccharine, rather than emphasizing escape and looking forward to different possibilities? I’m not sure. (It also seems questionable to present Nanjiang as an Escape, given that Wu Xi is in charge now?? They’re still right in the thick of politics?) Anyway, this all is why I like the placement of that final extra at the end of the narrative, because it Is a turning back to melancholia that I like to see during nominal happy endings.

[odelschwanky]

My Captain (Shunsui Kyoraku x OC Insert)

While I work on other stuff, here’s something I wrote back last year. My writing style is a lot better now, I promise.

Word Count: 3834

The wind was fierce in the Seireitei, my sleeves billowed violently. The beautiful sunset bled onto the cobbles of the walk, breathing life into the colorless walls around me. The sound of my sandals and the mellow clattering of my Zanpakuto was the only noise I created as I meandered along to my quarters. I had some briefing to do, but yet I was so tired. This was the fifth day with no sleep, the first two spent in the medical unit of Division 4. Since my last mission, I haven't been myself. I touched the bandages between my robes and my healing stomach. I was weak, and all I wanted to do was rest. 

The Research Institute was far from Division 8, and all this walking wasn’t ideal. I decided to take a shortcut through one of the courtyards. The peach blossoms were beautiful this time of year. They reminded me of where I used to live as a child.  Nobody ever came to appreciate them. I always hated that about this place, the Court Divisions. Hardly anyone seemed to appreciate anything. It was impossible for me not to. The blooms smelled so sweet, I could almost taste them on my tongue. One of the flowers floated down and I caught it in my palm. The delicate suede finish was so smooth on my fingers. I used to have these in my tea. 

“Hey.”

I jumped a little, turning my head toward the voice. “Don’t be scared.”

It was a strong voice: male, smooth, easy. I knew it very well.

“Captain.” I greeted him, regaining my composure.

“What are you doing out here?” He lay casually on a stone bench not too far away from me. His straw hat was over his face and it looked like he had been asleep, though he sounded like he had been awake a very long time. 

“With no disrespect, Captain, I could ask you the same thing.” It was pretty obvious though, what he was doing. It’s what he always did. To lounge around sleepily soaking up the good air and sun, occasionally stroll, those were his favorite pastimes. I’ve been part of his division for years and although most of the times we have spoken was for professional reasons only, there was a closeness between us that went undiscussed. It was something more than just a captain and his subordinate. I knew him so well, especially since it was part of my job. However, I really don’t know how much he knew me. We’ve never talked about it.

He chuckled a bit at my question, and I felt his soft smile, though I couldn’t see it. The wind tugged at both his kimono and his captain’s robe underneath. His chest was strong and sturdy, and the fine, dark hairs glinted in the waning sunlight. He sighed. “That’s fair. Are you in a hurry?” 

I shrugged. “Not particularly. I just have some briefing to do.” I really wanted to go, but this alone time with my Captain was very rare. I thought I might as well enjoy it, even if I’m tired. He relaxes me. 

“Then will you sit with me for a while?”

“Yes, Captain.”

There was no room on the bench, since he was laying on it, So I just sat cross legged in the grass beside it. It was silent for a while; I didn’t have it in me to talk.. I felt his breathing slow, as he presumably drifted back to sleep. I decided I should follow suit. The briefing could wait. This was nice.

My eyes slowly closed. My fatigue was getting the better of me. I hadn’t been this calm since my mission. Being near my Captain eased my nerves. Enough that I could sleep. 

***

 “Anane!” 

I turned around and looked at him. “What, Ichinose? What could you have to say?”

My friend had a strange expression on his face. His eyebrows furrowed together in pleading. I couldn’t see any life in his black eyes. His spiritual aura reeked of madness, despair and angst. Guilt was not one of the emotions. “You know why I can’t stay here!”

He seemed to be begging me for something. Understanding? I couldn’t. Forgiveness? Never. My blessing? Inconceivable. 

“I don’t care, Ichinose.” I said this turning away from him. I wiped my face with my sleeve, the tears streaking my uniform. My voice hardened. “Leave if that’s what you intend to do. I won’t stop you.” 

When Division 11’s captain was defeated and replaced by Kenpachi Zaraki, Ichinose fell apart. I had tried to be there for him, but he shut me out. Days had gone by without me seeing him. Then I overhear gossip between some unseated scum that he was to leave Seireitei, and the Soul Society… and me.

“Anane, please. Look at me.”

My spiritual pressure began to rise as I looked at him. I could hardly bear to do it. We were in a wooded area here in Seireitei, a place we used to frequent together to train. The large trees swayed erratically in the stormy wind.  The rain that had started to fall made Ichinose’s robe and hair stick to him. It made him look sick. 

“You promised me you would be by my side forever! That we would always be friends!” I yelled at him as he came closer to me. I thought my words would keep him back.  “Your Captain was beat fair and square, and you can’t seem to accept that!”

He issued a defensive response. “Zaraki has no honour! My captain did! How could I let this stand?”

I jammed my finger into his chest because we were close now. “You let it stand because that is required of your honour.” 

We stared at each other. “Ichinose. I can’t stand to look at you.” 

“Don’t call me that. You haven’t called me that in a long time, Anane.” 

I used his surname. He didn’t deserve me to call him anything else. He wasn’t Maki to me anymore. He was a stranger. 

 “We are Shinigami. We have a code, we have rules, we have our justice. If you cannot see that, maybe you shouldn’t be a Soul Reaper.”

An expression of hurt flashed across his face, enough to almost phase me. He didn’t understand. He didn’t understand how much he hurt me. I would never forgive him. 

“Goodbye.” 

I said this with finality. I could hear his cries, trying to get me to come back and talk to him. It was a waste. I had nothing else to say. I started back to my room, where I could let it all sink in. How my best friend chose his twisted sense of justice over me. 

His voice changed. It changed into something twisted and demonic. I turned around to see what used to be my friend, arms bent an ungodly way, neck almost broken. His eyes were black gaps, without content. His teeth became sharp blades. Ichinose was no more. 

The creature bounded forward, lodging its arm into my stomach. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t feel any pain. All I felt was emptiness. 

***

I awoke with a retch. I sat gasping for air, hunched over, gripping my stomach in pain. Such a sudden movement sent twinges of sharp pain into my healing wound. I felt nauseous and my head began to pound. “Tch,” I let out a wince. 

“Anane. Are you all right?”

I forgot where I was. I turned toward my Captain who had sat up in concern. His hat had fallen to the ground and his kimono lay half on the bench, as it slid off his shoulders. This was the first time he had called me by my first name. It was unusual. 

“I’m fine.” I quickly say. I never show weakness. The last time I had was when Ichinose…

“You didn’t tell me you were hurt,” said Captain Kyoraku, peeling back some of my robe to reveal my bandages. He touched them with a strong, yet tentative hand. His fingers were gentle on me. A strong rouge flushed my face and neck at the contact. I pushed his hand away and covered myself again, trying to hide my embarrassment. In any other circumstance, this would have been highly inappropriate. But since we were alone… I guess it didn’t matter. 

“I said I was fine, Captain.” I came across rather hostile, which I hadn’t intended. I wanted to apologize, but decided not to say anything. 

“Is this from the mission?”

I nodded slowly. I didn’t want to tell him. I was injured by a Bount, and I didn’t want him to think I couldn’t handle my duties. I was 3rd seat, for God’s sake. I should be able to handle that.. 

“That’s why you haven’t briefed yet, isn’t it.”

“Yes. Captain. I-”

“Anane, it’s okay.”

 I stopped talking. He had grabbed my hand now, and held it in his large one. I choked. He must feel my spiritual pressure. He has to know how nervous I am. 

“I sent you because I knew you were the most capable in the Division. We don’t know that much about the Bounts, so it was dangerous. I knew that. This is my fault. I shouldn’t have let you go.”

I scoffed. I dedicated my life to doing this job. To think he believed I couldn’t handle myself was insulting.

“Well I went. And I took care of what you needed, so there’s nothing else to consider. Me being hurt is nothing you should make concern about. You’re my Captain, not my caretaker.” Loyalty and duty was at the utmost importance to me. This was my job and I loved it. He didn’t need to babysit me. He helped me to my feet after he saw I had some difficulty. Still holding my hands, he stared down into my eyes and I could see my reflection in his. 

“Yes. I’m your Captain, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you.”

A twinge of red crawled up Kyoraku’s neck, into his stubble. I pulled my hand away gently. I would expect this from him with Lieutenant Ise, because they have always seemed close. But to think he would say this to me…

“Don’t worry about the briefing. But I want to know what happened to you.”

I didn’t really want to talk about it. It wasn’t a good experience and it was frightening. Fear is something I do not embrace. I swallowed a feeling of shame and defeat.

“I will tell you another time, Captain. If that’s okay with you. I don’t feel well and it’s something  I’d rather not talk about…”

“Okay.” He said, placing his hand on my arm. “I’ll walk you to your quarters.”

Kyoraku grabbed his hat and Kimono, not putting them on and started with me toward where I stayed. We walked in silence. I staggered a little, the stitched hole in my stomach growing hot with pain. He let me lean on him a bit, his large form holding me up. He wrapped a hand around my hip to stabilize me. I was so thankful to him. 

“So am I the one who needs to say it?” 

I looked at him, confused. “Say what?”

He sighed and laughed. “You know… In all the years I’ve known you, you’ve never loosened up.”

I shook my head. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about Captain.”

“See, that right there. You’re almost as bad as Nanao.” 

My eyes caught fire as I glared at him. I didn’t want him to compare me to her. I’m sure her devotion to him was the same, but my feelings were so much more different. I was sure of that.

“Okay, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Mhm.”

“I was kidding.”

“No you weren’t.”

It was silent for a while longer. As we approached the barracks, more and more people could be seen walking about. A few people stared at the sight of Kyoraku’s arm around me, and it didn’t help that his bright pink kimono was the definition of subtle. “Captain, I should be able to walk on my own.” I didn’t want people to get the wrong idea.

“Are you sure, Anane?”

I hid my smile. I loved the way he said my name. “Yes, Captain.”

“Well alright. I'm letting you go now.”

His hold loosened on me and he let me stand on my own.

“Captain Kyoraku, sir.”

We both turn to see Matsumoto in her usual elegance. Her long strawberry blonde hair fell down her back in waves. Her mouth was twisted into a pout. She looked concerned. “My Captain was looking for you. He said he needed to talk to you about something.” She arrived at the perfect time. Instead of studying me and the Captain, most of everyone stood slack jawed, staring at Matsumoto like usual. She glanced between Kyoraku and me, but then dismissed any intrusive accusations. 

“Oh… Alright. I’ll be sure to go and see him. I just have something to do here. Thank you.”

With that, Matsumoto was dismissed and turned on her heel to go. I watched as a few men chased her, trying to talk to her, the others just patiently looking. 

“Captain, go. It’s probably important. I’m f-” 

“If I hear you say that you’re fine one more time, I might actually use my bankai on you.”

That was such an utterly poor joke, I laughed a little. I couldn’t help it. But I was curious, what could Captain Hitsugaya have to talk to my Captain about. I hope it wasn’t the Bounts. They’re more trouble than they’re worth.

“I won’t say that, then. But I am. You know I can take care of myself. You don’t have to stay with me any longer.”

Kyoraku put his hand behind his neck and gave me an exasperated sigh. He swung his hat in his hand and shook his head in dismay. “It’s almost like you’re trying to get rid of me.”

So… it was almost like he was trying to stay. 

We had arrived at my private quarters now, he was lingering right outside my door. 

“Well, technically I couldn’t. Since you’re my Captain. I just don’t want you to worry about me.”

He smiled and stared at me for a long time. I couldn’t help but blush in embarrassment. 

“Do you remember when I asked you to be part of Division 8?”

I do remember. It was probably the best day of my life.

***

The coursework at Shinō Academy was scheduled to be completed in 6 years, but I had finished in half that time. I wasn’t quite as talented or ingenious as a few captains who had graduated in two years or even one, but my dedication and relentless training to become a Shinigami still impressed the Captains of the Gotei 13. I graduated as an expert in Zanjutsu and Kido, and had even more promise in the likes of Hakuda, my preferred fighting style. I had applied to Division 11, since in my academy years I was recruited to go on missions with them to test the waters. I believed it would be the most difficult to get into, and fighting there would be the utmost privilege and an opportunity to demonstrate my skill. Not only that, but I wanted to be in the same division as Ichinose. While my application was being processed, I was approached by Captain Kyoraku at the training grounds of the academy where I spent my downtime. 

“Nakamura, is it?”

I sheathed my zanpakuto and stood at attention. The first sight of that bright pink kimono on that giant of a man was exhilarating. The way his robes shifted when he walked emitted such a regal air.  My heart slammed against the inside of my chest and my tongue turned to sandpaper. I was being approached by a Captain! This was the first time I was spoken to by one outside of my academy classes. 

“Yes sir. Anane Nakamura, sir.”

Captain Kyoraku looked at me closely, and squinted in puzzlement. “That’s an unusual name, especially for a girl.”

I nodded. It was typical. I was the fourth born child of my parents, and I was supposed to be a boy. I had disappointed them before I could even prove myself to them. My name was forever a reflection of that. 

“Are you training?” He casually asked me this, looking at my hands, gripped tightly still on the hilt of my sword. The sun made his skin shine, and his then shaven face glowed.

“Yes sir.”

Kyoraku took a few steps away from me to a grassy area under a tree. Sitting down cross legged  “Well don’t let me stop you. I didn't mean to interrupt. Go ahead.”

He spoke to me in such a familiar way, taking me by surprise. I had known he had a laid back personality, but to speak to a subordinate with such familiarity? Not to mention, how was I supposed to train with a Captain watching me? He must’ve seen me hesitate. 

“It’s alright. Just pretend like I’m not here. I won’t say a thing.”

I turned away, my back to the Captain and stared at my shadow on the ground in front of me. Taking a deep breath, I unsheath my sword. I completed the patterns, once, twice and over again. After I had done them all, I did them again. The day passed as the sun had come around to face me, it’s sinking, scarlet rays making the sweat on my face and arms glisten. My flushed cheeks shimmered in the light, the glistening hair from my twin braids plastering them. The fine hairs that fell out of my short twin braids clung to my cheeks, which were flushed with the effort. I stood, heaving ragged breaths. my breathing laboured and sharp. When I trained. I trained for hours with little rest. I was only ever finished when my body would be on the verge of collapse, never sooner. My hands always had callouses from gripping my sword for so long. My spiritual pressure had dropped to almost nothing. I had finished. 

When I turned to leave, I half expected Captain Kyoraku to not be there. Maybe he would’ve been bored watching me run myself into the ground, doing the same patterns over and over in the hot sun like that. He sat, not asleep, but attentively watching me as I put away my sword and put my socks and waraji back on. I always trained barefoot. 

Footsteps approached me slowly, and I was afraid to hear what the Captain had to say. I knew the vast extent of my abilities even then but I had always felt, for some reason, it was never enough. Like a beautiful girl who would be ashamed to show her face, I was insecure and lacked confidence. My insecurity was why I trained so much. I could never be good enough.

“Nakamura.”

“Yes sir?”

I scrambled off the ground and stood tall to face Kyoraku. I was nearly half his size. I was in the late stages of my adolescence, nearly finished blooming into a young woman. I wanted to impress him so much, along with the other captains. 

“I’ve sat here and have watched you train for hours. Your dedication is admirable. Your talent is even better.”

I beamed with pride, but held myself together. “Thank you sir.”

“I know you applied for Division 11.”

“I did, sir.”

“Well, I don’t want to discourage you...” He looked deeply into my eyes, and I noticed the slight wrinkles around his, even though he was very young. “But I feel like you wouldn’t fit in there. So. Will you be in Division 8?”

My eyes began to water immediately. I held my head up to face the Captain. Kyoraku-san had asked me personally to be a part of his Division. 

“Yes. I would be honoured.”

***

“Yes. What about it?”

He shook his head, smiling. A pleasing expression came to his tanned, handsome face. 

“I’m just thinking about how much you’ve grown since then. Looking at you now, you’ve really turned out to be one of the finest Shinigami I know..”

I looked at my Captain. To hear him say that meant the world to me. Those words alone were the reason I’ve trained countless hours to become a legendary warrior and servant of the Gotei 13. I have dedicated my life to Kyoraku, the very day I entered his division. I had fallen in love with protecting him, serving him, and being a part of him.  His words now were the embodiment of validation I have been looking for my whole life.  He really did see how much I cared. I looked up to Kyoraku, idolized him. Other Captains have called him a lazy, irresponsible, nonchalant, ladies’ man, dumping all of his work onto his Lieutenant. Sure he was a bit laid back and he did love to flirt, but knowing him for so long, I saw something different. I saw passion, vision and love from him. I knew he would always do the right thing. He wanted good for the world. I wanted to support him in any way I could. 

I wanted to cry. It was like that moment, years ago, I felt the exact same way. I don’t know if he knew. He made me so happy. He was the reason I was living. 

“You’re embarrassing me,” I say, keeping my cool composure and smirking just a little. I was excellent in holding back my feelings. 

He calmly reached out and placed his hand on the top of my head. He ruffled my hair a little, and pet me. 

 “Sorry. I couldn't help it… Get some rest, Anane.”

“Thank you, Captain… for everything.” I say this, appreciating his kind words of praise. He didn’t know how much they lifted my spirits. He slowly turned to go, not taking his eyes off of me for a little while. I finally relaxed when he turned the corner of the hall, letting my tears fall freely. I opened the door to my room and went to collapse onto my bed right away. My body felt so heavy and numb and my stomach throbbed in pain. My sleeve still smelled like Kyoraku. 

My Captain.