#which HEAR ME OUT I KNOW is hypocritical after I complained SO much about people saying Ingo was in Hisui for at least a decade

[illdothehotvoice]

Alternatively the anime just confirmed Ingo going to Hisui as late as right before the events of Scarlet and Violet but personally I don't believe that and the Anime canonically is a different universe so eeeeh??? But whatever helps you sleep at night king.

[profounddefendorcrusade-blog]

Another Starlo rant + there's some stuff to clarify

this is my reply to the latest post from @a-legacy-not-to-be-forgotten bc i feel like he mainly had me in mind when he wrote it, which I don't mind, really. After all, we're both apologists of different characters and i DO respect your opinion. Just wanted to throw my two cents in and clarify some stuff (please read till the end)

Exhibit A (having Moray walk around with a snake in their boot and giving them rashes): I always thought this was some kind of job policy, all bc Star's so ambitious and expected his (future) employees to be the same. He wanted everyone to prove they were "real" cowboys. That's also why everyone had lassons for 8 weeks and he had that kangaroo locked in a cell for sneaking a phone in (although it IS hypocritical that Star himself is allowed to own a TV).

Star expects a lot from everyone because he himself gives it his all to make this town as realistic as possible and makes everybody behave like real cowboys (and imo he thought Moray was fine with having a snake in their boot for a week since they probably didn't complain. Star most likely didn't even know the snake gave them rashes/apologized if Moray had told him this). Honestly he's too obsessed and passionate and can be too much without realizing it, that I can't deny

Exhibit B (The Boulder Droppers): No matter how severe (It IS severe), I still see this as super careless (and super forgetful of Starlo), rather than reckless. Again, another instance where he screws up but there's no ill intent. Also he apologized for this to Gilbert

Exhibit C (blaming Clover for everything that happened and shooting them over it): TRUE 100%

...now, Ceroba was doing her best to understand Starlo and he needed her to get back on the right track, but I still think she views him more as a manchild than someone worthy of respect. I don't hate Ceroba or see her as a heartless bitch and a terrible friend (there's that post of mine where I explained everyone's flaws, and it turns out Starlo is the most flawed of them all, which I admitted). I just think her and Star aren't on the same wavelength.

She WAS on the same wavelength as Chujin and that's why I ship them. Ceroba deeply admired him (still does) and honesty she has the right to love whoever she wants. Still, I can't get out of my head how she thought that her wanting to date Starlo in the past must have had to do with the fact "her brain was still developing," or how she lied to him about the sheriff stuff just to spare his feelings. I get the intentions but she should have told him how she really felt (based on her many annoyed faces I got the message Roba never liked any of this + she says she doesn't understand it). I genuinely saw it as her babysitting/pitying him for his childish fantasies instead of actually enjoying participating in the antics (she does like observing the five tho)

And yeah, everyone (Ed, Ace, Mooch, Moray, Ceroba) knew Starlo ADORED westerns, obviously, but what they DIDN'T know or try to figure out is the deeper meaning as to WHY. I feel like everybody thought it was simply a childish fantasy and didn't stem from any deeper insecurities (the FF, just like Starlo, aren't very good with communicating their feelings; why else would they criticise Starlo right in the middle of town where everyone could hear them instead of going someplace private to have the talk)

HOWEVER!

List of Starlo's character flaws I believe he has: insecure, overly enthusiastic, careless (not reckless bc he doesn't intent to cause chaos), cocky, too obsessed with his status & social image, arrogant, mischievous (particularly with Blackjack), childish, needs too much external validation, uses escapism too much, people pleaser, wants to be everyone's "hero," ignorant, naive, too optimistic, overbearing, too ambitious, stubborn, emotional & sensitive to criticism, too obsessed to the point he ignores everyone and everything else, actually IS selfish (I wanna take this opportunity to correct myself. Starlo should have listened to his posse and not have snapped like that & dismissed what they had to say, but they should have also let him know how they felt way earlier and tried to understand Star's pov & deeper insecurities he has & should have not publicly lectured him since they SHOULD know how much he wants to protect the reputation he worked hard to earn. Everyone should have reacted differently)

We don't know what Starlo was like before Clover but based on the way none of his posse ever talked smack about him, gave him dirty looks, or overall acted like they didn't wanna be part of the team, I assumed they either didn't mind his enthusiasm before he got obsessed with Clover, or kept their frustrations with his passion hidden well and didn't choose to communicate at all with him about how they really feel.

As for Star himself, I just don't see him as having been a bad boss. Ed even said how he would always ask him nicely to do stuff, and Dina explains how the only arguments the five of them had were about trivial matters, and how things were pretty predictable before Clover. So I don't think he had made any huge fuck ups. The five were always together in all their shenanigans (Dina says they're like siblings) and Ceroba mentions how she hasn't seen Star "this ecstatic in some time". Which is why I think he didn't step outta line or mistreat others before his dream of meeting a human came true.

HOWEVER #2!

I just remembered a single line of dialogue from Ed, which suggests that Star might have been more bossy than I thought and didn't actually ever ask his posse about their opinions. If this is the case, and probably is because Ceroba says he had changed a lot, scratch that stuff I said before about him not being a bad boss

He acts selfish because he's insecure, but I still shouldn't have used that as an excuse. It's interesting how he's got both selfishness and selflessness inside him at the same time, but yeah, bc of his undeniable charm I overlooked the selfishness part. guilty as charged

time to add that and his bossiness as another one of star's many flaws

Another thing: while all of Ceroba's flaws seem to come from the tragedy that had struck her (besides being stubborn), every single one of Starlo's flaws stem from him and how he feels about himself. He had a normal family, a best friend, and his own friend group, with whom he could discuss his nerdy interests. I think THIS is what makes him so loveable. He techincally doesn't have a real REASON to feel unhappy, but he did, before he became 'North Star' But that persona was exactly WHAT he needed to let go of to be himself and be truly happy

I once jokingly mentioned how Starlo's name could mean "Star + loser" and the more I think about it, the more it makes sense for his arc. He wants to be 'North Star' (all cool and badass and important), but in reality, the real him is just a nice guy who loves his friends. And even if that doesn't make him popular and a loser farmer instead, at least that is the real him who he shouldn't have been running away from

I do love when my fave character ain't perfect and has inner conflicts to work on

To conclude this rant, I want to apologize to the Four and Ceroba for not taking into consideration their pov more and being way too obsessed with this charming nerd

also, @a-legacy-not-to-be-forgotten, your rant gave me much to rethink and for that I thank you

[a-substantial-trash-pile]

i love my mom but man does it suck when she starts talking to me about god shit. because it always leads to her trying to guilt trip me into being more religious, saying things like, “it makes your dad and i very sad that you don’t believe in god” and “you’re depressed like this because you don’t talk to god.” when i tell her that choosing not to go to church anymore is one of the few choices in my life that i don’t regret, she gets upset with me. sorry, going to go on a little bit of a rant about family and religion here (specifically catholic/christian), but i’ll stick it below the cut.

usually this convo comes up when my cousin is mentioned, because my mom and my aunt will gush about how my cousin goes to church every sunday. this happened today actually. they ignore the fact that my cousin is still a horribly spoiled, selfish, honestly terrible person who yells at/doesn’t bother to help her physically disabled, sickly mom. my “wonderful church-going” cousin who left to go on a vacation to hawaii with my shit uncle, leaving my aunt alone at home even though she had covid AND had recently broken her back. which led to me having to take 2 weeks off of work at the last minute to go stay with my aunt and take care of her. during those 2 weeks, my “wonderful” 20-something-year-old cousin would repeatedly call my aunt to cry and complain that she wanted to come home because she “didn’t feel good.” and my aunt, laying in bed with her broken back and various other health issues, would baby her. oh, but my cousin goes to church, so that means she’s such a good person! i just don’t get it.

one of the reasons i refuse to go to church anymore is because of this backwards-ass hypocritical way of thinking so many people there seem to have. there’s just this feeling of insincerity to it all where people show up once a week to pat themselves on the back for being “good people”, then gather in the lobby after mass to gossip about the one trans woman who recently joined the congregation (unfortunately this isn’t an example i made up). or later go to the supermarket and yell at an underpaid employee. or go on a hawaii vacation and leave your mom home alone with a broken back.

i attended church from age 1 to age 18. as i grew older, church started to feel more and more suffocating. it got to the point where i was having anxiety attacks during mass. i tried distracting myself with drawing on the pamphlets given out at the front door. and when i was banned from that, i resorted to drawing on my skin, which didn’t last long. i ended up sneaking earbuds in and hiding the wires under my hair and clothes so i could drown out the sounds of church with music. i would just stare at the floor and try to just focusing on breathing, but it was just all too suffocating. i was told that the reason i was feeling and acting this way in church was because “the devil was talking to me.” “the devil” was trying to take me away from church and god, so i needed to stop feeling like this and just pray. that time i started crying in the pew because it all became too much and i felt incredibly overwhelmed? that’s the devil. pray about it. uh, actually, mr. jesus, it was because i have bad social and generalized fuckin anxiety. and also very likely autistic but i haven’t been officially diagnosed until this day. so yeah.

thinking back on it now, it was kind of fucked up. but i don’t blame my parents for how they acted. sometimes i feel a little angry and disappointed about how they handled things, but i don’t blame them. because as i watched kids be baptized, i would hear the priest tell the parents that it was their responsibility to raise their kid to be a good god-fearing person. that it was their responsibility to keep their kid from “straying from the light” and avoiding damnation. i know my parents were told the same thing when i was baptized. that it’ll be their fault if i “stray from the light” and end up getting sent to hell. i just see it as guilt-tripping bullshit. it was my choice to not go to church or follow the religion. i hate that this system has told my parents they should feel guilty about this and that it’s their fault that my soul won’t be saved, because they didn’t “guide me in the lord’s way” good enough. i hate that this system has made me feel like i’ve failed my parents. it’s bullshit.

i’m sure there are churches out there who contain genuinely good, accepting folk. and i’m sure there are people who find comfort in having a religion. i’m glad for them. i’ve just personally have some negative experiences with religion and I’ve learned that it’s just not for me.

i try my best to be a good and kind person. i try really, really hard. i just don’t go to church anymore. the fact that i don’t do this one thing shouldn’t devalue all my efforts.

[girlactionfigure]

Let me say this in the clearest possible terms. If you’re concerned with Israel’s response, if you’re focused on the people of Gaza right now, you’re either ignorant or intentionally hypocritical. 

2005: Israel handed Gaza over on a silver platter. No “occupation”, no Israeli presence, nothing. 100% theirs. If they wanted anything other than dead Jews, they had the chance. 

In what world is it normal to demand a country provide water and electricity to its enemy when there is clear evidence that they are using those water pipes to create rockets that then kill Israelis? 

You’re worried about the electricity and water in Gaza? You can provide it. Don’t want to? Then keep your mouth shut. 

They have nowhere to go those poor Palestinians? Why don’t you go look at a map? They have a border with Egypt. Let them take them in if they care so much.  

Oh, Egypt doesn’t want them? Did you hear that? That was my heart breaking for them. Egypt can take them. They don’t want them? Not my problem.  

You’re worried about a disproportionate response by Israel? Kindly tell me what a proportionate response would look like. 

Because if we did what they did to us, that would require the murder, abduction, and rape of over a thousand people. 

Is that what you’re recommending Israel does? Because that’s pretty sick of you. 

And once and for all, we need to unequivocally reject the false narrative of “They’re not all Hamas supporters so Israel has no right to attack Gaza.”

A- The Palestinian people elected Hamas. Make up your mind. If they’re a people who you believe deserve a state then it’s time you held them accountable as a people. They elected Hamas. They will pay for that tragic decision.  

B- The Palestinian people, not 100, 1,000, or 10,000 of them, give out candies when innocent Jews are murdered. Have you seen thousands of Palestinians speaking out against Hamas? I haven’t. Where are they? Their silence is all I need to know. 

C- In every war in the history of the world, innocent people die. That fact, as sad as it might be, has zero relevance to whether the war is justified or not. Need I remind you how many innocent Germans died in WWII? Israel is fighting Nazis now. Zero difference. In war, innocent people die. 

D- And finally, don’t come at me with the whole “They can’t speak out. Hamas will kill them.” 

Where have we heard that before? “I was just fulfilling orders. I had no choice.” 

Oh yes, that was what the Nazis said. It was not a legit argument then and it’s not a legit argument now. 

What Israel experienced on October 7th was the equivalent of 9/11 times 50. Israel WILL retaliate accordingly and it will not stop no matter how much you throw your double standard at us. 

We not only have every right to do whatever we can to obliterate Hamas, we have a moral obligation to do so.  

You might not know this now, but a world without Hamas is a safer world for you and your children. 

If you didn’t complain when ISIS was defeated, if you think WWII was justified in order to defeat the Nazis, then you can either stand with Israel while we cleanse the world of Hamas savages or you can go ahead and keep your mouth shut while we do the work from which you will benefit. 

If you have any integrity at all, go read the charters of Hamas and the PLO. If you’re honest, ask yourself what “From the river to the sea” means. Look at a map if you can’t figure it out. It means no Israel. Do you support that? Throwing all Israelis into the sea? Because that’s what that means. 

If you are still delusional enough to think they want a state, go Google The Partition Plan. They had one. They rejected it. Then google how many times Israel offered them a state.

And if, after all that, you still think the Palestinian’s agenda is anything other than total genocide of the Jewish people, congratulations, you have earned the privilege of being named a flaming antisemite who supports murder and rape. 

I’m sure your mother is proud.

Hillel Fuld

[acti-veg]

hey acti, i hate to be a downer when we're already fighting an uphill battle, but i guess i just wanted a fellow vegan to hear this :/

i dated someone this past year, and he knew i was vegan from the start, even when we were just friends, and it was never a problem; he surprised me with a vegan meal prep made with beyond meat once, would clean the grilling utensils when he was making animal-based burgers and I was having a plant-based one, and even, when we went out to eat and they got my order wrong and served me something with meat, put his hand on mine and said he knew i was frustrated and was sorry. fast forward five months and after we'd had a conversation where i told him in a hypothetical completely vegan world, we wouldn't be farming animals for agriculture so livestock animals like cows would sort of go extinct (which started with another hypothetical where i would either have to be super sick for a month or eat a piece of steak and be instantly cured, to which i answered id be sick for the month), he decided i was "radical" and we weren't compatible because he "didn't want his kids to be exposed to veganism". i'd even told him i would compromise (because ive always wanted to raise my kids vegan) in that when i would cook, the food would be vegan, and when he would cook, it wouldnt, and that wasnt good enough. there were other issues and red flags not related to veganism (though he was always making "joking" comments about how he'd "break me of veganism" by cooking a really good steak and convincing me to eat it), but it just really sucks! like vegans are the ones who get the bad wrap as supposedly being "extreme" - i shouldve been the one upset and bothered according to their stereoptypes for us, but it was him! carnists are just so close-minded and hypocritical its really unbelievable.

i really thought it could work if we just respected each other, but he, like most everyone, wasnt interested in genuine conversations or respect. and its so depressing because now i fear every other relationship i enter with a nonvegan will end the same! how can having compassion and respect for nonhuman animals make us so wrong in their eyes? i know it would probably be smarter to only date other vegans but i couldnt help falling in love with him. and the vegan dating pool is so small and spread out, and i dont live in a big, progressive city! im sorry to complain so much, its just a really exhausting reality.

thanks for listening <3

I’m sorry that it ended this way anon, it sounds like you’ve been through a lot with this one.

For what it’s worth, I don’t think that this sort of situation, as awful as it is, is anything inherent in being vegan. You had fundamentally opposing worldviews, relationships between people like that can last and be good for a while, but there will always come an issue that they’ll be split on and can’t compromise. He was unfair and handled it poorly, but even had he been more patient with you and more honest, it sounds like you just weren’t right for one another.

Not every non-vegan sees us this way, and plenty of people do navigate successful relationships with non-vegans. They can’t be anti-vegan though is the issue, and from what you’ve described here, it sounds like that is very much what he was. He would need to have at least been sympathetic to veganism and have a positive outlook on animal rights in general. He’d also need to have known what your intentions would be with any children, though it’s admittedly tricky to know when to bring that up.

Dating another vegan would of course be ideal, but someone who respects you and what you believe in, and crucially is honest about that, is all you really need. Everything else can be subject to compromise, but it sounds like that key thing was what was missing from this. It sucks that you had to find out a year in, but at least you know now before it went any further.

Best of luck in the new year anon, I hope you find better things, whether that’s happiness in your own company or with someone new. Take care!

[arvadthecursed]

my dad is trying to quit smoking weed again and i just. I wish he would admit he was/is addicted. I fully support legalizing it but people need to realize it's an addictive substance!! my dad has an addictive personality and this is BAD for him!

and when my dad's withdrawals come around, they're bad. he throws things down, shoves stuff, mutters under his breath, he sits in silence and if you try to talk to him he snaps or makes some cruel remark and it makes you wanna cry, and then when you're crying, he guilts you and makes you feel awful for crying and he's like "it's all my fault" and then you end up apologizing to him. he's so hard to be around. I feel bad. I should be there for him but all I want is to run away. I had to go on a walk today to get away for a little bit because he was such a nightmare all day, but when I got to the park, I just cried bc I felt like I failed him, and I should've stayed home and been more helpful and supportive, no matter how much it hurt.

my mom and sister complain about this behavior too but they don't get the brunt of it. which, idk. I'm not trying to minimize their pain. But they don't understand how much I bear of his behavior bc I'm the one home. I can't study if he's sitting there grumbling or throwing the remotes on the table. If I try to express that he's upsetting me, I get the guilt trip, that I'm making him feel bad, and he says he's a shitty person and I end up comforting him while trying not to cry bc that'll make everything worse.

and when he inevitably breaks down and goes and buys more weed (which is illegal in my state), i feel resentful, and I feel guilty about being resentful. he gave up tobacco after 34 years. why is this so hard? And I hate the lady who sells it to him, but he won't hear a bad word about her. I can't stand it. It makes me sick to think about her, and I won't even look at her when I go to the grocery store, cause she works in the deli.

I just want him to be strong. I want him to quit for good, because smoking is bad for him (for anyone, really), it's expensive, the smoke is hard on my allergies.

He told me he smokes because it's the "best antidepressant." I asked if he tried antidepressants, he wouldn't answer, but to my knowledge he hasn't. He told me that I was being hypocritical because I take Lexapro, and that's a "mind altering substance" like the weed. He won't hear any argument.

I feel very alone. I don't have friends in town, and I'm broke, so I can't buy gas to go and get out of town and see my friends 30 minutes away. I feel guilty if I leave him alone when he's like this because I feel like he needs me, and me running away is abandoning him, but he is so so hard to be around when he's like this, and it makes me want to cry. I don't know what to do anymore. I feel like I am a failure and this is somehow my fault and I don't know how to make that feeling go away.

[crispylilworm]

I can't totally articulate why beyond just 'it's not worth it', but just wanted to rant here instead of fighting people on the internet lol overstimulated reading a million different posts every day about all the awful things going on in the world so sometimes you really just have to pick your battles

So I am not into F1 at all so please forgive my imperfect retelling, but I was reading about the Qatar Grand Prix that happened last month and how driver Logan Sargeant withdrew from the competition after feeling ill - which it's apparently pretty rare to voluntarily withdraw mid-race like that. Extremely commendable decision by this driver, probably was an impossible call to make with all the sponsors and fans and all the other factors that depend on him to complete the race. What was even more amazing was the overall support from the community - literally every article, comment section, and Reddit thread I went through were praising Sargeant for putting himself, as he should, first. The thought of a driver potentially passing out from being ill behind a F1 car going full speed is horrifying. His life is worth more than winning a race.

And want to know what this made me think about? Simone Biles.

Although a different circumstance, Biles had the exact same situation where she felt ill and unsafe competing and removed herself, as she should, from the competition. And everyone absolutely DRAGGED her through the dirt. Literally it's been two years and to this day people still label her a "quitter" and loudly bring their doubt in to everything she does - mind you she has earned both record-setting World and Olympic medals since the infamous team event. Would they have felt any better if she went for that second vault and instead landed on her neck and got seriously injured? Why was the response to Biles so disgustingly different than the response to Sargeant? (You know why.)

If I hear a single "she owes it to her team" - no she doesn't. Sargeant's team Williams Racing and Biles' Olympic team were both vocal in their support for their respective teammates decisions and expressed their gratitude that each athlete had the mental awareness to make that call and withdraw to prevent something worse from happening. If the only people directly impacted by a teammate withdrawing from a competition are not upset then why the fuck would you be?

Ultimately, huge shocker here, the difference in response comes down to all sorts of intersectionality of issues due to Biles being a woman and POC. It's exhausting just reading the vitriol and hate plastered all over the internet so I can only imagine how frustrating it is for Biles. She's literally set every conceivable record in her discipline and is STILL reaching new milestones to this day, yet people want to make her decision to preserve her own safety in Tokyo her career-defining moment. It's because of that decision that she continues to break records to this day so I guess maybe it was.

Social media is pretty much used for people to complain and criticize and try to make comments to virtue signal or whatever to seem better than the other person, so maybe that's why is so frustrating seeing one athlete hailed a hero for making the same decision that caused another athlete to get effectively cancelled. Like being on the internet so long I'm jaded enough to not read into hate comments too much, just disagree with them and let them bounce off you. But sometimes coming across these hypocritical responses makes me want to grab their collective shoulders and shake some sense into them (ง'̀-'́)ง

[angelsonneptune]

What’s ur opinion on Rad feminist / feminist? The phrase “I hate all men, Kill all men, men suck, etc” always makes me so sad as a male. I would hope only a very small minority of women actually think this or say it. I hope most women love ❤️ men just like how most men love 💗 women.

.·:*¨༺ I was actually planning on making a long post on my views of sexism, but I decided against it. Since you asked me this question, I took it as a sign to put my thoughts out there. So, this post will probably be pretty lengthy. I’ll try to cover everything I see necessary ༻¨*:·.

TW// MENTIONS OF RAPE, SEXUAL ASSUALT, & ABUSE

I’ve actually made a few posts about my distaste for modern day feminism, really just radical feminism. As i’ve said, “feminism” now, is nothing but well disguised misogyny, and blatant misandry. Majority of the self proclaimed feminists do not, in any way, think for themselves. There is no genuine concern for women amongst them. They simply want to appear self righteous, as majority of people online do anyways. They see how society perceives these words and actions, and jump on the “worship” or “hate” train, as soon as they see others doing so. You’ll see “feminists” praising any woman who simply says “I hate men”, but then soon realizing that words like that, mean nothing, and that most “activists” are frauds. Julia Fox is the perfect example. She was heavily praised for her anti-men rhetoric, but then immediately hated after working and sticking up for a designer, who has many allegations of sexual assault on his hands. What many fail to realize is that, those in the limelight, sometimes know exactly what the public want to hear, and will say what they need, to be perceived as a “good person”. Your words or posts on social media mean, relatively nothing, in regards to activism.

Radical Feminists will speak on how the media is inherently misogynistic, as it pits women against each other; yet at the same time, they devoured the Selena vs. Hailey “feud” online. A completely fabricated story. There was absolutely no evidence of Hailey ever bullying Selena. Not even that, but even if Selena and Hailey were to have a feud, it’s no one’s business but theirs. You would see, and will still see, people irrationally attack and bully Hailey. They tried to make her feel inferior to Selena in any way that they could; from body shaming, to name calling, to dialing her down to just being a wife, the list goes on and on. Yet, they claim to be feminists? All of that behavior directly combats what feminism is really about.

They complain about how the media attacks women for the bare minimum, but yet again, feed into the exact same behavior they are ridiculing. Lily Rose Depp, in an interview, stated her opinions on being called a “nepotism baby”. She spoke about how she felt people were not seeing that she has worked very hard to get where she is. Did her opinion come from a lack of understanding of different perspectives? Very much so. Was that an excuse for people to viciously attack her? Absolutely not. Yet, you’d see “feminists” online do that exact thing. You can disagree with someone and still be poised, elegant, and respectful. These peoples concerns are nothing but deceit. They want to be perceived as so passionate about their concern for others, but their passion is just hatred and negativity.

I especially oppose anti-trans radical feminists. These feminists will say “real women” are women with periods, who can give birth, who have uteruses, or who have vaginas. This is the same rhetoric used by misogynists. They dial down women to nothing but our reproductive organs, which is inherently sexist. Not to mention, there are cis women who cannot give birth or have periods. As well as women who don’t have uteruses. It’s completely hypocritical.

ೃ⁀➷ You see, misogyny is noticeably oppressive, because it very obviously restricts women. Female gender roles holds women to extremely strict standards. Women must be virgins, they must be homemakers, they must be perfectly beautiful, and they must be responsible, and mature from a young age. Misandry however; is oppressive, due to the fact that the gender roles for men, are not oppressive at all. People even confuse it for “liberation”. Which is why it’s so easily overlooked. Men are not held to any standards, the most horrid behavior in men, is excused; there is no accountability.

It is my belief that something cannot exist without both the feminine and masculine element. By feminine and masculine, I do not mean, man and woman necessarily, but that sexism is not black and white. Sexism is not man versus woman. It is much larger than that; it is a societal issue. Where you will have misogyny, you will always have misandry as well; neither can exist without the other. In terms of abuse and predatory behavior, it is often over looked in regards to men. People will argue that “men are inherently sexual beings” to excuse rape and sexual assault. They will say “Biologically, men are dominating, aggresive, and purely logical creatures”, to excuse physical, mental, financial, and emotional abuse. I’ve even seen people excuse pedophillia in men, by saying that “men are inherently pedophilic in nature” due to the idea that younger girls are “more fertile”.

These are all, not only obviously misogynistic; as it is a lack of care or concern for girls and women, but overlooked misandry. To say that a man is inherently abusive or pedophilic, is sexism. Yet, time and time again, I see people excusing horrible behaviors in men, as something that is inherent to them. It’s inherently our burden, as women and girls, to deal with their “bad behavior”. The saying “boys will be boys” is nothing but to excuse those behaviors, to say that they are inherently bad, and monstrous. Another example, is the aversion society has to having baby girls, as opposed to having baby boys. They say that boys are just, “easier to raise”, than girls. The only reason for that is, they allow it to be that way. They are tolerant of the misbehavior of little boys, as opposed to the misbehavior of girls. Radical feminists, ironically enough, tend to agree with these statements. That men are inherently abusive and sexual deviants. Many radical feminists do not realize that these beliefs are backhanded; it’s not just misandry, but misogyny as well. It’s just another way for women to disguise their unhealed wounds, as concern for other women.

╰┈➤ This extends into male rape victims not being taken seriously, due to men inherently being seen as “sexual beings”. Little girls are forced to be women at such a young age, by society hypersexualizing them (their bodies being seen as inherently taboo and tempting), and blaming them for any rape or sexual assault. While little boys are forced to be men from such a young age, due to being forced into hyper-sexualizing themselves, and excusing that predatory behavior. With these oppressive gender roles, they are always on the opposite ends of the radical spectrum. Men being forced to be promiscuous, and women being forced to remain virgins. If either of them break that gender role, they are chastised and shunned. You can apply this to every sexist societal norm.

There is an immense amount of hateful people in society. People have inexplicable wounds down to their core, that they either; don’t know how to heal, or are too afraid to try to heal. Those never healed wounds are morphed into negativity, bigotry, and hatred; which is directly reflected into society. To say “I hope most women love men, just like how most men love women”. I don’t particularly agree, due how much bigotry and hatred there still is in the world towards women as well. There is still femicides happening around the world. There is still an immense amount of misogyny, even in first world countries. There are platforms for misogynists; like Andrew Tate, Sneeko, JustPearlyThings, Fresh & Fit, Kevin Samuels, in which all have enormous followings. All very obviously contribute to misogyny, and discrete misandry.

Truth is, everyone has bias. Most people have a lot of internalized sexism. I am not going to exclusively talk about sexism in men or women, because this entire post would be another to simply please the masses. As women can be misogynistic, just as much as men can. Men can be misandrists, just as much as women can. Again, sexism is not black and white. If someone is misogynistic, they are misandrists as well.

⋰ ⋰ A radical feminist’s hatred for men, is a direct response to the trauma of sexism that women face from such a young age. Their resentment is just being put in the wrong place. Men are not the enemy, but society itself. Our hatred needs to be towards gender roles and societal perception, not the people themselves; as that will get us no where near the progression we desire.

This is what true feminism is about. Deconstruct gender roles. Release oppression from women and men. You cannot get rid of misogyny without getting rid of misandry as well. We have to combat gender roles all together. No one should be manipulated and forced into being someone they are not. Gender roles does nothing but harm to all. Children shouldn’t be forced into perceiving their bodies as inherent sexual objects. Society shouldn’t see our bodies as only machines for reproduction. We are a lot more than just our bodies, and what they can accomplish. Before you are a man, or a woman; before you are your race, religion, or identity; you are a human being, and all humans deserve to be treated with the same respect, boundaries, and standards.

My point is that, nowadays, many people are extremely disingenuous in their activism. This generation is obsessed with being perceived as morally superior. They don’t care if they engage in vile behaviors, as long as they are on the “right side”. Due to social media, it’s extremely easy for them to appear morally right, instead of thinking for themselves and doing the work, to actually be that way. Any chance they can get, negative people will go to where that hateful, and vile behavior is seen as acceptable. So I hope that whoever reads this, does a bit of self reflecting, and decides to be a positive force that fights bias, negativity, and emotional immaturity in the world.

✧✦

[thefanficmonster]

Perspective

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: Fluff, Humor, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Corpse recounts the time he first met his now best friend who too has been gifted with a deep voice.

Requested by two Anons. This fic is a mash up of two very similar requests I got from an unnamed Anon and 🖤🥀 Anon, so a big thank you to the both of you for sending in your requests! I’m really sorry to be posting your requested fic so late but I hope the final product is gonna make the wait you had to endure worth it! If you come across it and read it, I hope you enjoy it! Love, Vy ❤

“Yeah, yeah ok, I know.“ I can’t help but playfully roll my eyes at the comments that are flooding in, “Before any more people address it - even though it’s only been five minutes - I’m gonna address it myself: I apologize for the absence of the guest I promised would accompany me on this stream. She made the choice to party until late - or should I say early - and is currently probably asleep. And...I just don’t have the heart to wake her.“

In all honesty, all the blame should fall on Y/N’s lack of responsibility but I could never say such a thing - she rarely let’s herself loose and allows herself to have fun so there’s no way I’m gonna hold this one instance against her. Quite the contrary actually: I hope she starts going out and having fun more frequently cause really deserves it. She’s a super hardworking girl, studying college and working her ass off simultaneously.

“For those of you who don’t know who I’m referring to: the girl in question is Y/N, aka Jumpscaretastic, a horror games oriented streamer. She was supposed to join me for this freaky journey but...yeah I’ll have to endure it on my own because fuck me.“ I take a look at my chat again, deciding to keep this interaction with my viewers going for a bit longer before I start the game. I may be stalling but you sure as hell won’t hear me admit it. The game may be terrifying as hell - I have no doubt it is - but I doubt it would affect me so much if Y/N was here.  My eyebrows furrow automatically at the sight of one specific question that I’ve been getting asked quite a lot recently and I’ve been doing my best to avoid it cause the idea - to me, at least - is so messed up. Why, we’ll get into that later. “No- ok, this is the first and last time I’ll be addressing this wild assumption, you guys, so listen carefully. Y/N and I are by no means related. I’m not related to every deep-voiced person on this planet, just FYI.“ Speaking of Y/N’s deep voice which I’ve gotten so accustomed to hearing, I can’t help but recall the first interaction the two of us had when she got invited by Toast for a game of Among Us with us when Felix canceled on us due to technical difficulties. “I may not be related to her but she really put into perspective how other people feel and react when they hear my voice. I, honestly speaking was astonished by hers.“

A few months ago

“Ok guys, since Felix texted me about an hour ago, saying he won’t be able to make it, I invited a friend of mine so I hope that’s ok with you.“ Toast announces when the majority of us have accumulated in the lobby.

“Yeah, all cool. An introduction to them would be nice though.“ Charlie says, tampering with his avatar’s appearance on the in-game laptop.

“Oh, I’m sure she can do that herself.” He says with a bit of a chuckle, “Y/N?“

“I’m here, I’m here.“ 

My gaze moves from my chat to the monitor displaying the game in an instant as though it would reveal to me who the owner of this unfamiliar voice that just travelled through my headphones is. You know how my voice is considerably deep, yeah well this girl’s voice is six feet below that.  My eyes have widened without me even noticing as I hurry to unmute myself despite being a little late to the reaction party which already consists of a ton of ‘OMG’s and “WHOA”s from the rest of the people in the call. Not one of them, however, considers to question the authenticity of the voice.

“Was that a voice changer or something?“ I say, my eyebrows shooting up when I hear the laugh I receive in response to the question - a sound so deep but simultaneously sweet and girly it messes with my head.

“I wish I kept count so I could tell you which number on the list of people who’ve asked me that you fall under.“ The girl, Y/N replies, “But for the record no, it’s not a voice changer.“

Realizing how hypocritical this question probably seems coming from me, I decide to believe her - probably cause she gets nothing if she lies anyways. “Oh, so this is how it feels hearing my voice for the first time, huh?“ I say, slowly nodding my head, still in slight disbelief.

“Yeah, meeting her was quite rattling - in the best way possible though.“ I say, fixating myself back in reality following the little trip back in time to the day Y/N and I met. “She’s now one of my best friends so that should tell you enough.“

It goes without saying that, since she’s my best friend, I know her quite well. That being said, with the detailed knowledge I have on her, I can guess she’s gonna be in for a massive hangover when she wakes up. I just hope she texts me when she does so I can make sure she’s at least semi-functional. Just then, my phone buzzes with a message. Much to my shock, it’s a message from Y/N. Truth be told, I didn’t expect her to be up for another hour or two or three but here she is, sending a simple text that reads:

“My head’s pounding like a drum mid rock n’ roll concert“

There are no emojis accompanying the message, suggesting she’s deadly serious and in quite a bit of pain. Ok, I won’t sugarcoat it - she’s in a fuck-load of pain right now.

“The Sleeping Beauty has awaken and is complaining about a headache, just in case you were wondering.“ I chuckle seemingly nonchalantly as I silently contemplate whether to text her back or call her instead. Who’s gonna know better than my viewers, after all... “You guys think I should call her? Or would that annoy her?“ I ask, furrowing my brows at the chat as I see different responses coming in.

Meh, fuck it -  I think to myself, already taking my phone to call Y/N when the support of my viewers floods in as well.

She picks up after two rings, letting out a sound that sets the tone for the discomfort she’s in.

“Hello to you too.“ I say, putting the call on speaker so my mic can pick up her responses. “Would you please rate the pain you’re in right now on a scale 1-10?“

“A hundred.“ Her strained, raspy and deeper than usual voice comes through, stealing a chuckle from me, “I’m hungover and still a bit drunk. Like, how does that even work?“

“The morning after is a straight-up bitch. Welcome to the world of bad decisions.“ I tell her compassionately, low-key wishing I could go over to her place and provide her with at least a tiny bit of comfort, as much as I can.

“Yeah...“ she sighs halfway dramatically, “Anyhow, we usually text around this time, what’s up with the call?“

“Just wanted to make sure my best-girl wasn’t really dying, you know. Who am I supposed to annoy in Among Us if you’re not there, after all?” I raise my brow and, although she can’t see me, I bet she can probably guess I’m doing that.

“Whatever...“ The same way I can imagine her rolling her eyes while smiling as she said that, “Tell me this, am I wrong or was I supposed to be on your stream today?“

I barely manage to hold in my laughter at the question, “Uh, yeah you were, but...” she doesn’t let me finish my sentence, instead cuts me of:

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry, Corpse! I totally forgot. Believe me, if I could roll my ass out of bed I’d hop in but I really can’t. Unless you want me to be a bore for an hour and a half, that is.“

“For starters, you could never be a bore to me.“ I say matter-of-factly, “And for seconds, you’re kinda on the stream anyway...“

“Come again?“ She cuts me off yet again, “You’re calling me mid-stream? If so, hey everyone! Sorry I couldn’t join, I promise to make it up to both you and Corpse soon.“ A yawn comes from her end before she continues, “As of now, I think I’ll go back to sleep.“

“Alright, alright. I’ll call you again later to make sure you’re still alive. Sleep tight.“ I tell her, already hovering my thumb over the ‘Hang up‘ button.

“Won’t let the hangover bite.“ She slurs/murmurs, stealing my opportunity to end the call cause she does it herself.

I stare at my phone for a second, finally becoming aware of the grin that has spread across my face. Eventually, I address my viewers once again, “There you have it, guys. Technically, you can give her a pass for answering the call, especially in her current state, so let’s all agree to not hold this against her, cool?“

A brief look at my chat shows me the ton of fluffy comments that are coming in as a reaction to the interaction Y/N and I just had. One, however, sticks out especially. It reads: ‘You like her or smt?’

“Do I like Y/N?“ I read the comment out loud, a smirk coming across my face, “Of course I do. She’s a darling.“ If I had a webcam on I’d look straight into the lens and wink. That’s probably spark more than enough rumors, but at the very least they wouldn’t be wrong. “I’ve stalled enough, Outlast is waiting.“ I announce, finally starting the game. After all, it cannot be scarier than the conspiracies my fans could come up with. I get it though - from their perspective, we’re already the perfect couple; from my perspective we’re impossible because from Y/N’s perspective we’re best friends.

Ain’t that how it always goes?

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[thejustmaiden]

So out of nowhere I was tagged and quoted by a SR shipper for a blog of mine posted in August of last year. Talk about throwback but, hey, gotta appreciate that level of snooping. 😉

Back in the day I actually used to encourage discourse amongst Inuyasha fans- both shippers and antis alike- but I've since realized that it's a lost cause. But for you, @feministmetalgreymon , I'll grant this exception. Just 'cause it's been a while so why the hell not. haha

I want to assure you, however, that nothing you say will ever convince me that Sesshomaru and Rin are meant to be together romantically or that the story intended it so. Nor will you find any validation here. You can ship them for all I care, but please for all that is good and holy while I have your attention try- I mean really try- to understand why it is so many of us Inuyasha fans are so against this pairing in the first place (newsflash: it's not about ship wars), and why we believe a romance between the two of them is completely and utterly out of character.

For those of you interested in reading this, the blog of mine in question that the above shipper mentions in their counter-argument is here for reference. It's titled "Jaken = Rin's Dad?" I'm going to try and keep this short, but I'm also making no such promises. After all, I'm not exactly known for my brevity. haha Now let's get crackin'!

Like you, feministmetalgreymon, did for your recent blog here where you took screenshots of mine to address certain parts, I will be doing the same and dissecting yours accordingly.

[Snippet 1]

I worked with kids for many years as a teacher, and many people in my family have too or still do. Two of them happen to be just over 5 feet which is quite short for the average adult woman living here. I've also worked alongside many a women of short stature, and never did I hear any of them complaining of issues with their students having difficulty differentiating them from their own peers just because they were short as well. I'm sorry but that's just ridiculous. Kids are quite smart and pick up on a lot more than you seem to give them credit for. Height is not the only characteristic they look at to determine who's an adult and who's not, and it's foolish to suggest otherwise. So unless you're a babysitter who's still in their teens and/or who has very childlike features or behavior then I'm afraid what you're getting at is total hogwash. This is just another example of how you shippers offer nothing of real substance to your reasoning, it's only ever cherry-picking or strawmanning from you guys. Stop deflecting from the real issues please, because this certainly isn't one and only winds up being a complete waste of time for all parties involved.

[Snippet 2]

Okay, calm down now. I wasn't insinuating that relationships between parents and children can't change over time in terms of how they get along. Of course that's possible, as all families experience their fair share of estrangement and abuse. What I was speaking about was in reference to the overall dynamic between the two. Because a bad mother or father can still be viewed as a parental figure to their child even if say they're not in said child's life anymore. Since Sesshomaru and Rin share a healthy bond- and just a friendly reminder that in my blog I even said that he doesn't have to necessarily be labeled her father but that a romantic relationship later would still be inappropriate- I didn't deem it necessary to address what you brought up. Plus, it kinda, umm, misses the point?? Please, let's stay on topic. And it's not captured in the screenshot, but stop acting like there isn't a small part of them that idolizes their parents at some point during childhood. Just like you mention later on how it's normal for kids to have innocent crushes on adults that they eventually grow out of? Well, guess what, the same concept applies here. Kids eventually learn that their parents are far from perfect and make mistakes too. Rin is so damn young in the OG series though that we never even get to see her reach that maturity level.

[Snippet 3]

LOL! Alright, okay, so the "unbreakable bond" bit you're mentioning was actually me quoting you sessrinners. Did you not catch that? I literally spelled it out. *sigh* The whole point I was making is that shippers like yourself make hypocritical and contradictory statements all.the.goddamn.time. One moment you guys claim that Sesshomaru and Rin were essentially strangers and meant very little to each other, only to say in the same breath a few seconds later that they were destined to be together and their bond is like no other. I agree, their bond is special, but why must that mean they're going to fall in love?

That is the root of the matter here. Too many animes/mangas have romanticized this older adult man & young girl growing up falling in love trope that it's become way too normalized and widely accepted across the world- and yes, in some cultures more than others. Sadly, you lack the awareness to recognize how this all works. You know how we know that? When we see that you shippers are so desensitized to sexualized images of girls in the media that you share posts like this one below which *subtly* imply a future romance although one half of that pairing is still just a child in the pic and then try and pass it off as cute. That's like super fucking problematic and it scares me that you can't see that (or deny you do). 🤢

After all that's said and done, Sesshomaru leaving Rin in the village with Kaede is to me the strongest indicator more than pretty much anything else he's done for Rin that proves he is her adoptive father. It's so funny to me how you somehow see the exact opposite though. 🤔 What I think is happening is that you got yourself on some squeaky clean ass shipper goggles fresh out of your little echo chamber. Because I hate to tell you, but what you're fantasizing is what you want to see and not what's actually there on screen or was written into the story. I'm strictly talking about Inuyasha and the manga of course. [For the TL; DR version skip to the last paragraph.]

Parents looking after their kids is what parents are supposed to do. A good parent will do anything to keep their child safe and ensure they are cared for, so what he did for her by leaving her there was in her best interests clearly. Besides, as a babysitter, you more than most people should understand that parents aren't always able to be there for their kids so sometimes others gotta step in to help. Haven't you heard of the saying, "it takes a village to raise a child?" Which in Rin's case is literally true! 😂 Sometimes kids are even sent off to stay with grandparents and that's who raises them instead. Or maybe they have to temporarily live with an aunt or uncle because their single parent's job requires they work out of town 4-5 days of the week so they're hardly home. But that doesn't mean that the parents care or love their kids any less, and it's foolish to assume that Sesshomaru must have thought very little of Rin simply due to the fact that he made the decision to leave her in the village. Come on, y'all are acting like he abandoned her there!!

It's just given the circumstances Sesshomaru finally came to learn that Rin traveling with him was no longer safe. I also like to think it's because he wished for her to live a more normal life and to learn how to fully trust humans again. Plus, continuing to travel with him as young as she was would have proven dangerous and unwise. Now for you to know all this and still manage to turn his past actions towards her while she was just a child into a romantic gesture is what boggles my mind. Regardless of how you look at it, from my perspective or your own, Sesshomaru is in the wrong. Either he's a father figure who impregnates his daughter at the young age of approximately 14. OR he's this man she used to travel with who maybe isn't a father to her but who nonetheless basically rapes her since kids her age can't consent to sex with an adult. Idk about you but it sounds to me like nobody here wins with either scenario we're given. In other words, you should be just as mad as we are. If only one side didn't choose to forsake their morals they know we both have in common for the sake of a ship. Welp. 🤷‍♀️

I agree, incest is disgusting but that's not the only problem we have with this pairing. A romantic bond forming between Sesshomaru and Rin would also constitute as grooming.

You realize that over the years he visited her in the village that he brought her gifts too and essentially watched her grow up right before his very eyes, right? I mean, I know you do, but I really shouldn't have to explain further why pursuing a romantic/sexual relationship with each other is plain and simple wrong. And before you say it's not because he didn't have any malintent, please understand that considering their history and power dynamic up to then that yes this is still considered grooming even if Rin supposedly "wanted it" or "made the first move." Whether you consider him her father or not, as the adult who took on a role resembling that of a caretaker in her early life- a critical developmental time for a child- Sesshomaru is obligated to turn down any advances by Rin and most definitely should not initiate any himself. As the first close adult figure she's had in her life since her parents died, it's unfathomable to imagine how Sesshomaru could go through with taking advantage of this young girl who was under his care and supervision since they met. To think he could be capable of betraying that trust sickens me to the core.

This. Now THIS is how a parent/guardian or a similar adult caretaker (babysitter, teacher, etc.) talks to a child. And, in turn, this is how some young children talk to adults. You'd be insane and delusional to deny it! We see it in our everyday lives, do we not? From where else do you think our stories draw most of their inspiration? Yes, obviously these fictional universes have aspects of fantasy that don't exist in the real world, but so how then do you suppose we're able to relate to them? The reason for that being is because these stories are written by people for people, so naturally there are going to be real life aspects embedded throughout. Sure, a little escapism doesn't hurt as we don't need to take everything so seriously, but ultimately we all need to recognize that the messages in the stories we tell matter. Most stories possess a combination of both light and dark themes, but when it specifically comes to the latter we gotta be careful with how we tackle this in children's media since kids are far more impressionable.

So if at the center of a story we have two of the main protagonists whose mom is basically their same age and to top it off she knew their dad when she was just a girl and who just so happened to help raise her, wouldn't you say that's beyond fucked up or at the very least so fucking weird? Like why would we think it's even remotely okay for our children to watch this garbage?? Really think about it. Try and be objective for once and think about how it would sound explaining this storyline to an outsider who's never watched IY or HNY. Well, antis have tried this before many times and we always get the same reaction: Ewww!

Like I said earlier, if you wanna ship it then fine, but 1) please stop seeking our approval or trying to change our minds - your ship wish came true didn't it, so why do you need us to validate it? 2) even though it's not canon, respect that we don't support this sequel portraying pedophilia in a positive light. It's harmful af to not only allow but glorify the continuation of sexualized images of young girls everywhere. And I shouldn't have to say this, but just because this trope is popular as you say does not make it right. Lolicon themes in the media have been an issue forever and it needs to stop. Yes, even some people in Japan or "the East" would agree. Shocker!

We're pissed off and rightfully so because Yashahime's TV rating is 14, not to mention it airs at the prime time kids in Japan watch TV after getting home from school. That's Towa and Setsuna's age, true, but if Rin being the mom when she's like only a year older than them (please don't argue w/ me about the math- antis have so far been right every time with it) is straight-up disgusting and not something we should be supporting or endorsing. Rin's a whole ass child!! Please don't start with the "but times were different then so her having kids at 15 is acceptable" argument either, because we've already debunked that and every other single excuse you guys throw at us. Besides, how or why would you expect young viewers to know these historical "facts" anyway, especially if as you suggest fiction doesn't affect reality so what does it matter? Yet here we are, arguing over a fictional show in real life almost a year and a half into the "Sesshomaru fucks?" sequel being announced. My ass, your ass, hell all our asses fiction doesn't affect reality!

Look, I do apologize if the tone of this blog came off as snippy or condescending at times. I do not wish you any ill will, it's just I'm not really sure what you expected to get out of all this besides maybe getting on my nerves perhaps. haha A lot of you shippers have been desperately scrambling to interact with us, lurking in our tags, jumping onto our posts screaming canon and getting so defensive even though you sought us out first. We've been sticking to our tags, so how about you stay in your lane too. By the way since we're on the topic, have you seen Twitter or Reddit?! SR shippers there are the actual worst and many Inuyasha fans (not just antis) have complained of not feeling welcomed to engage in fandom spaces anymore. Shippers swarm them and scare them off simply because fans don't like your ship and refuse to accept it. It's pathetic, really. No one should ever be bullied or harassed just because they don't like something you might. We're all fans of Inuyasha, aren't we? So let's act like it. Yashahime on the other hand, you guys are welcome to that pungent heap of trash. Fans have a right to criticize it too, but if you like it then good for you, so keep on liking it and don't mind us.

I'm almost done, but real quick back to Jaken! Let's not forget about how the official Yashahime website- which came out after my blog, mind you- described Jaken. This translation isn't the best one available but it's the only version a fellow anti friend could track down. They do recall a better one done by a native Japanese speaker who was also an anti, and that member confirmed that Jaken is indeed called Rin's babysitter. So you see, I was right in my interpretation. In the original post I did compare Jaken to a brother, but after talking to others (some comments can be found under said post) I did acknowledge that he's more of a reluctant babysitter who's not related. And if he's not at least a brother to Rin, then he's definitely not her father.

At the end of the day, the creator Rumiko Takahashi has the final word. Which is guess what? Hogosha. 💖 Probably should've just started out with that and saved us all the trouble, huh? Good day/night to you.

Papamaru bids you adieu now. 🤞

[ravennm84]

Serafina

Part 2     Part 3

Based on @unmaskedagain post “Marinette’s Haunted Doll” this is my take on the story and the kind of things Serafina would have done to get even. There’ll be three parts, and will hopefully be posted through the week. Blood, gore, and character death ahead. You have been warned.

She was seven years old when her Grandma Gina’s sister, Ramona, passed away. Marinette couldn’t remember ever meeting her. Her dad said that she was a very private person and didn’t get out much. Since she had never married or had any children, all of her relatives were asked to come over to the house and divide the property before the rest was sold and equally divided. 

While her parents had been in the kitchen, looking over some family cook books, Marinette had wandered around the old house until she came to a small room. It was full of spiderwebs and old toys, which greatly interested her. She spent a long time looking through the boxes and shelves until she found a locked chest in the closet. Remembering the key she had seen in a dresser drawer, she retrieved it to see if it worked. It was hard to turn, but she heard the click and was able to open the lid. Inside was a box with an envelope laying on top of it. Curious she opened the envelope and read the note as best as she could.

“If I’m dead, Serafina killed me.”

Tilting her head in curiosity, Marinette set the letter aside and opened the box. Inside was an old looking porcelain doll. It was covered in spiderwebs, the dress was old and ripped, she was missing a shoe, and the hat looked like it was stained with red paint. 

“Are you Serafina?” She asked the doll before carefully lifting it out of the box. “I don’t think you’re bad, you just look lonely. But don’t worry, I’ll take care of you!” Giving the doll a gentle hug, the little girl got to her feet and left the room and letter behind. Finding her parents, she asked if it was okay to take the doll home so she could take care of her.

Tom remembered seeing that doll when he was a kid and had always thought it was creepy, but if his little girl saw the good in it, he would trust her. And since none of the other relatives wanted anything to do with the doll, it came home with them. 

Once home, the little girl raced up to her room with the doll and immediately got to work. She threw away the old dress, hat, and shoe before cleaning away all the dirt with a washcloth and carefully combing out the knotted hair. Then Marinette got to work on making Serafina a brand new outfit with new shoes and a hat. It took a few days, but she was really happy with what she came up with: a pink Victorian dress with rose and pearl accents, a wide brimmed hat with maroon feathers, and maroon slippers that tied with ribbons around the ankles.

Proud of what she had made, Marinette held the doll up high as she twirled around her room. She had been interested in fashion and clothes for months now, and making the pretty outfit for Serafina was a lot of fun. If anything, it proved to her that fashion design was what she wanted to do.

“I hope you like your new clothes, Serafina. You make the perfect little model, so I hope you don’t mind if I make more clothes for you later on. I promise to only make you clothes that will make you feel pretty.” Giving the doll a kiss, Marinette placed her next to her computer before skipping down stairs for dinner.

~oOo~

Serafina had not been expecting this when the young girl, Marinette, had opened her box. It had been decades since anyone had shown her any kindness. For so many years, she had been passed from person to person, shoved into boxes and hidden from sight or attempted to be sold off. Serafina had had no choice but to punish many of her past owners, and she had not been lax with their punishments. 

But she didn’t feel the need to do that with Marinette, this girl was different. She wasn’t afraid of her. She didn’t scorn her and hide her away where no one could see her. No, this girl was kind and made Serafina feel loved; something she hadn’t felt in nearly a hundred years. Staying with Marinette, she knew that she would be happy. So, no one needed to die here.

And she was.

The porcelain doll smiled quietly on Marinette’s desk as the years passed, and felt more for this girl than she could remember with anyone else. She felt beautiful whenever Marinette used her to experiment with a new outfit before she would make a full sized outfit for herself. She had fun when the girl would sing and dance around the room, sometimes even picking her up so she could dance with her. She felt entertained when she would play movies on her computer, one time watching a movie about a haunted doll like herself; they didn’t watch much before she turned it off, but Serafina thought it was funny. Scratching people and leaving notes wasn’t scary, she had done much scarier things than that.

As Marinette grew into a teen, Serafina felt proud as she grew from a shy girl into a fearless superhero. Her owner had a lot of love and light to give, so it made sense to her that she became Ladybug. She also felt scared for the girl, not wanting to lose her to Hawkmoth, but silently promised her that if she was ever hurt, the people who hurt her would pay her back in blood.

Serafina was also aware of the tiny god that gave Marinette her power, just as Tikki was aware of her. No doubt, the god could sense the darkness that dwelled in her porcelain body, but realized that she cared for the girl and would not harm her. So the little god wisely said nothing, she would hate it if Marinette suddenly feared her.

After all, the three of them were happy and at peace.

Until the day Marinette came storming into her room, complaining about a girl named Lila. From what she could hear, this girl was a liar and was using her friends. Knowing how much her human cared for other people, that didn’t sit well with how it would affect her. Then she didn’t hear anything about the girl for months. But when she was mentioned again, it quickly got worse from there. 

Serafina heard about the threats, the lies, almost being akumatized, her crush Adrien telling her to take the high road, all of it. She watched as one by one, her friends turned against her. Bullying her while accusing her of being a bully until only three of her classmates remained. She knew that the teacher and principal were useless and even accused Marinette of being a problem, especially after the expulsion. Serafina had nearly enacted her revenge that day, but held back when she was reinstated the next day.

Nathaniel, Rose, and Juleka were the only people left that believed her or even bothered to try and help in her class. There was also Kagami and Luka, Juleka’s brother. Serafina would admit, that boy was sharper than most. When he first saw her, his blue eyes studied her intently for a long moment until Marinette spoke up.

“That’s Serafina, she’s been passed down through my family for a long time. She was in really bad condition when I got her and took a lot of work to get her fixed up, but it was worth it. She was my first ever model and I’ve never felt lonely since she’s been around.”

Luka looked back over at the doll and gave her a smile. “I can tell, I’d bet no one gave her the proper love or attention until she came to you. And I think, if she could talk, she would say that you kept her from feeling lonely too, and all she wants is for you to be happy.”

Serafina liked that boy, a lot more than she had liked Adrien when he had come to play video games. The boy genuinely seemed to care for Marinette. And even though he could somehow sense that she was more than just a doll, he didn’t spill her secret. Yes, she approved of this one.

And then, less than a week after she returned to school, came the worst day. They were taking pictures at the school and Marinette had worked so hard on a new dress; it was pale purple cotton with teacup sleeves, a tulip skirt and pink lace at the hem. It was so sweet and looked like she was going to a spring tea party. Then half way through the day, she came into her room crying. Her makeup was smeared, there were bruises and scratch marks on her arms, another bruise on her cheek, her hair was a mess and covered in dark blue paint. The same paint that covered almost half of the dress. Tikki was doing her best to comfort the girl as she showered. Marinette was unable to save her dress and ended up throwing it away before she cried herself to sleep on her bed. 

Serafina was angry, the kind of anger she hadn’t felt since Ramona had attempted to burn her in the fireplace… and that hadn’t gone well for her. Tikki flew over to face her. “I know what you’re thinking and I can’t condone you falling into old habits and killing her entire class. Despite how much they’ve hurt her, it would still break her heart if they all suddenly died.”

The doll actually considered that for a moment before picturing some very specific people. Lila, the liar that was trying to take away/destroy the person she cared about. Alya, the best friend that betrayed her, acted like a hypocrite, and took joy in hurting her. Adrien, the boy that not only broke his promise to help her as a civilian, but continually harassed her as a pseudo-hero. And finally, Hawkmoth, the person that was constantly putting her in danger. Everyone else that had harmed her would be punished, paying back the harm they had done to Marinette in blood, but those four would pay with their lives.

Tikki shook her head. “As angry as I am with Adrien, you can’t kill him. Marinette still has feelings for him and if he dies, she might never get over him. I can’t stop you from punishing them, but please try not to kill them. You know that she has a big heart and it would hurt her to lose any of them, so please keep that in mind.”

Serafina would have argued, but the little god was right. Killing around Marinette would only upset her. So she would do her best to punish them without killing them… although, accidents do happen. 

~oOo~

It was easy enough to sneak herself into Marinette’s bag the next day of school. It was even easier to select her first victims. One of her classmates, Kim, stole her backpack and dumped out all of her stuff, including her. The boy laughed about Marinette bringing a doll to school as he ran up the stairs to keep it away from her. It took little effort to make the boy trip, in full view of everyone that had been watching, and fall backwards down the steps. 

Serafina had landed at the top landing with a perfect view of the boy’s tumble, and it was oh so satisfying. She could see his knee bent in the wrong direction, a bone in his arm protruding from the skin, and blood dripping from the cuts and open wounds. But the sound was even better, all the cracking and popping of bone before he began crying like a little girl, begging for his mom.  Ah, she hadn’t realized how much she had missed those sounds.

When the principal came out to see what was happening, she hid her presence and let the principal trip over her and fall as well. He even landed on Kim, causing more injuries to both of them. She held back a laugh as the grown man wailed and cried until the paramedics arrived. Loading the two into the ambulance while one of the teachers called the Board of Governors. A representative, M. Rupere, quickly came to take over the principal’s duties while he was gone, and was surprised when a bunch of students tried to blame Marinette for the incident.

“And how is it her fault?” He asked the students that surrounded him. “Did you see her push or trip M. Le Chien or M. Damocles down the stairs?

“Marinette brought in a doll and Kim was distracted by it when he was going up the stairs, that’s how he tripped and fell,” Lila told him with tears in her eyes. “Then M. Damocles tripped over the doll and fell down the stairs too. It’s just like how she pushed me down the stairs last week and I hurt my knee. I think she’s actually trying to hurt people.”

The man looked at Lila for a moment before looking to the top of the stairs, but there was no doll there. Then he looked back at Lila with a stern glare. “Young lady, if you had been pushed down the stairs last week, you would have been severely injured just like your friend or M. Damocles. And whether or not it was Mlle. Dupain-Cheng’s doll that caused the incident or not, does not mean that she is at fault for the accident. To the principal’s office, right now. I think we should have a discussion as to why you are trying to blame another student for something she did not do.”

Totally shocked, the girl looked around to her followers for some support, but they were now looking at her with uncertainty. They had just seen two people fall down the stairs and receive severe injuries, so how was Lila walking around just fine without a scratch on her? Huffing in annoyance, Lila stomped her way to the office while the class stared after her, most of them noticing the lack of limp to her walk.

Serafina was pleased with how this was turning out, she had already punished two of the people that had betrayed Marinette and had begun sewing seeds of doubt with the liar. At the moment, she was hiding in the classroom, observing everyone so she could figure out the best way to punish them. She noticed Rose, Juleka, and Nathaniel sitting close to the girl and doing their best to comfort her. She also noticed Nino, a boy she had seen a couple of times over the years, casting looks back at Marinette. 

During the first break, the boy cautiously approached her, clutching his hat in his hands. “Hey dudette, listen… I, um, wanted to say I was sorry,” he said, having a hard time looking her in the eye. “After Kim fell, what that Governor dude said about Lila not being hurt, and the fact that I’ve known you forever. I felt so stupid. You would never push someone down the stairs or cheat or steal from someone like that. And I tried looking up Jagged’s discography to see if there was any mention of a song about Lila, and there was literally nothing. I tried telling Alya, but she didn’t want to listen and-”

Nino was interrupted by Marinette giving him a hug. Serafina smiled at that. The boy had thought for himself and admitted that he was wrong. He apologized and Marinette was willing to offer him forgiveness. She supposed that Nino could also be exempt from punishment, so long as he never betrayed the girl again.

Half way through the second lesson, Lila had returned to the class with two weeks worth of detention and had a meeting scheduled with herself, M. Rupere, and her mother at the end of the week. Serafina decided to let the girl’s empire fall before going in to completely destroy her.

During lunch, when all the students had left. Serafina got to work on punishing Mme. Bustier. She started by slamming the door shut, it made the woman jump and look around the room, but there was no one there. Then the giggling started, causing her to look around the room again. This time, she walked up the steps to see if anyone was hiding in the room, but she was completely alone. When she turned back to her desk, the papers she had been grading were torn to pieces. A bit panicked, Bustier tried to run out of the room, but the door was locked. As she struggled with the door, she heard the scraping of chalk and froze for a moment before looking at the board. Large words were scrawled in block letters: LIAR, ENABLER, MEAN, CRUEL, and the most frightening of all, YOU WILL PAY.

Bustier’s hands were shaking as she erased the words from the board, not understanding what was happening. Only taking a breath when the door opened and her students began to file in. Serafina quietly laughed at the teacher’s fear, she was another person that she would take her time in punishing. Payback for failing to help Marinette. For now, it was time to take out her biggest supporter. 

Again, it was much easier than it should have been to sneak herself in Alya’s backpack and go home with her. When the girl found her she sneered. “The klutz must have put you in my bag by mistake.” Then she smiled cruelly at her. “I think I’ll give you to Etta and Ella to play with before giving you back to Maribrat, maybe tell them that you need a makeover and give them some permanent markers too.”

Turning to take the doll out to her sisters, she stubbed her toe on her desk chair hard enough that she felt a crack and dropped back on her butt while hissing in pain. When she was finally able to think past the pain, she realized that she had dropped the doll and didn't see it on the floor. After wrapping her foot, she looked all over her room but couldn’t find it anywhere.

That night, things got… more than scary. Alya was absolutely terrified.

First, her computer turned on, on its own, and started printing off papers saying “YOU KNOW THE TRUTH”. She turned the computer off, only for it to turn back on after she’d climbed into bed and the browser pulled up past searches; specifically, the searches that proved that Lila had been lying. She had found that out after Lila had disappeared from school for months, but had kept to herself so she wouldn’t lose her credibility on her blog or have to admit to Marinette that she’d been right. Turning it off again, she’d decided to sleep on the couch when her phone suddenly let out a hiss and burst into flames.  

Letting out a shriek, Alya rushed to her door, and had just barely opened it when it slammed shut on her fingers, causing her to scream as she struggled to pull her hand free. She could hear her parents and Nora shouting on the other side of the door, trying to push it open, but it wouldn’t budge. Her head got fuzzy and she suddenly felt cold, she realized that she was going into shock. Her parents’ shouts became garbled background noise and Alya heard the sound of tiny feet running around the room. She tried reaching the light switch so she could see, but it was out of reach.

From the light outside her window, she could barely make out the movement of a small shadow, moving from one part of the room to another. Coming closer and closer to her with every sweep. Alya began tugging harder on the doorknob and her hand. She needed to get out. Something was in the room with her. She could almost feel the darkness creeping closer. It wanted to hurt her!

What happened next, Serafina couldn’t have planned better if she’d tried. Alya jerked back her trapped arm and the doorknob at the same time Nora threw her shoulder into the door as hard as she could. Sending the teenagers flying into her bedside table and her head hitting the corner with an audible *crack*. The doll smiled silently in the corner of the room as the paramedics were called and listened to her parents cries for their horrid daughter to wake up. They called time of death at 2:03am.

~oOo~

It was a bit more of a chore for Serafina to get back to the school, but it was still manageable as her mother had to inform the school of her daughter’s death and pick up her things. The woman had also noticed the information that had been brought up on Alya’s computer and thought that she had been up late chasing a lead. And as the lead had to do with the disturbing behavior of one of her daughter’s classmates, she thought it best to show the acting principal the information before taking her leave. 

Making her way back to the classroom, she saw that the news had spread already. Nino seemed to be hit the hardest, as it was his girlfriend, but he would get over it. Kim was still out of class, and likely would be for a few more days. Tikki saw the doll when she was peeking out of the purse and gave her a disapproving glare, but there was nothing she could do. And in Serafina’s defense, she had only intended on maiming the failed journalist, her death had been an “accident”.

When class let out for lunch, Serafina got back to work tormenting Mme. Bustier. Today, the door slammed and locked shut a few minutes after the last student left. The woman shrieked and was struggling to open the door when the giggling started again. Bustier started screaming for it to “go away” but the giggling continued. Turning back to the door, books began flying at her from all over the room, hitting her chest, back, arms since they were shielding her head.

Then the door opened to show a panicked looking M. Rupere. “I heard screaming, are you alright?” The red haired teacher looked extremely frazzled; her hair was a mess, eyes wide and dilated, and her hands were shaking.

“The books,” she said in a trembling voice. “There was giggling, the door wouldn’t open, and the books attacked me. And this was the second time!”

His eyebrows rose to his hairline as he stared at the woman. “Did you see who was throwing the books at you?”

Bustier shook her head in a frantic manner. “There was no one, the books just started flying at me after the giggling.”

Giving her a slow nod, Rupere gently motioned her to step out of the room ahead of him. “How about you take the rest of the day to recover? Some rest will do you some good.” 

To his relief, Mme. Bustier agreed and collected her purse before leaving the school. Looking around the room, he was confused to see all the books in place on the shelves. Curious, he went to examine her desk and saw essay papers… covered in red ink with large “F’s” on every one of them. Reading the paper on top, all he saw were a few grammar mistakes, nothing that should have resulted in a failing grade. A bit unsettled, Rupere called the Board to schedule a psychological exam for the teacher. Serafina watched the man with satisfaction, at the rate she was going with that terrible teacher, she wouldn’t be around much longer.

Her next victims were Max and Alix during science class. She switched a couple of labels on the tubs on their desk before hiding in the room to enjoy the show. Half-way through class, Max poured a large amount of reactive chemical into the mix while it was warming over a burner, and the glass exploded. The two screamed and cursed in pain as Max tried wiping the liquid away from his face, only succeeding in getting more in his eyes. Alix tried wiping it away with a cloth, not noticing in time that the fabric was also soaked in the chemicals that now covered her entire face.

Serafina was impressed with how quickly Mme. Mendeleiev reacted to the incident. Doaning on gloves in an instant and leading the two students to the chemical wash station. Both students looked to have chemical burns on their faces, arms and necks. She could already see the burns covering a large amount of their exposed skin. While the class was distracted, Serafina switched the labels back so it would appear that the two had not been doing as instructed.

When school let out, the doll hid away in Mylene’s bag and ended up going on a date with the girl and Ivan. They commented on the bad luck their class seemed to be having and wondered out loud at what the cause might have been.

Mylene was hesitant to speak as the two ate their ice cream. “Do you think… maybe it’s karma coming back on our class?”

“Why do you think that?” Ivan asked her, seeming genuinely curious. Deciding that their conversation might lead to something more, Serafina waited and listened.

“It’s just… ever since Kim fell down the stairs, it’s got me thinking. Lila says that Marinette pushed her but the only injury she says she got was a bad knee, and she’s been walking around fine since then. And then she tried blaming Marinette for Kim and M. Damocles, when Kim shouldn’t have been running up the stairs and M. Damocles tripped at the top of the stairs when she was still down in the courtyard.”

“You’re right, now that I think about it. Lila lied to that new principal and she did it really easy.” Ivan nodded slowly, his brow creased as he pulled out his phone. “I wonder if she lied about anything else.” Mylene watched over his shoulder as he looked up the story about saving Jagged Stone’s kitten from an airplane. There was nothing, the only article that came up about a pet was his crocodile, Fang. The story said that he had hatched the reptile himself seventeen years earlier and any other pet wouldn’t be as rock’n’roll as Fang. “I don’t think Jagged ever had a cat, this article says that he’s only had Fang for longer than we’ve been around.”

Mylene pulled out her phone and called Rose, putting the call on speaker when she answered. 

“Hi Mylene, did you hear anything about Max and Alix? Are they going to be okay?” The girl asked as soon as she picked up.

“Ivan and I haven’t heard anything about them yet, but we have a question for you, Rose, and it’s something only you would be able to answer.”

There was a slight pause on the line. “Go ahead.”

“Do you still chat with Prince Ali?”

“Sure I do! We video chat every Saturday and I send him videos of our performances with Kitty Section. Why do you ask?”

“Ivan and I were wondering… Has he ever mentioned Lila to you?”

There was another pause, although they could hear a hushed conversation in the background. “So, you guys figured out the truth about Lila?” When they didn’t respond right away, Rose continued. “I found out a few weeks after Lila says she came back from Achu. I mentioned Lila to Ali and asked him about the charities they had been working on together, but he’d never heard of her. And Ali is only working on charities involving children, nothing with the environment. When Juleka and I tried asking Lila about it, she got really mean and threatened us if we told anyone. I would have been akumatized if Marinette hadn’t been there to calm me down.”

Ivan and Mylene were horrified, not only had Lila been lying to them, but she had threatened Rose, Juleka, and probably Marinette too. “What should we do?”

“First, you should apologize to Marinette for how you’ve been treating her and let her know that you know the truth.” They heard Juleka over the phone. “Lila has been more terrible to her than anyone else and she keeps getting in Lila’s way to protect us and Nathaniel since we know the truth about her.”

“Who all knows?” Ivan asked, feeling a bit sick to his stomach. Sure, he and Mylene hadn’t really hurt her or done anything, but they hadn’t stood up for her either and they were supposed to be her friend.

“Us, Luka, Kagami, Nathaniel figured it out when she said she could introduce him to Stan Lee, Nino figured it out yesterday, and Adrien’s apparently known from the start but didn’t say anything because he doesn’t think her lies are hurting anybody.”

Both of them could hear the acid in Juleka’s voice when she mentioned Adrien, and they couldn’t argue with her. They knew he had led a sheltered life, but how could he claim that ‘lies don’t hurt anybody’ after sitting back and watching Lila and her friends torment and bully Marinette?

Mylene hadn’t even realized that she had asked that question out loud until Rose answered them. “He told us that it was Marinette’s own fault for antagonizing Lila, and ‘If she just took the high road like I told her, then Lila would leave her alone’. It took everything I had not to slap him.”

Coming from Rose, that really was saying something.

Serafina was then taken on a shopping trip to an arts supplies store, a card shop, and a stop at an ATM before going to Marinette’s family’s bakery. She smiled quietly and with great respect to the couple as they apologized to her girl, gave her cards, an entire bolt of soft purple cotton the same color that her ruined dress had been, a new sketchbook, and money to pay her back for some of the things that Marinette had given them over the past year. They even asked her to provide them with proper receipts, and admitted that they knew the amount they had given her wasn’t enough to cover everything. But they promised to pay her back before asking for anything else, as well as pay in advance for any future items or baked goods. 

The little doll would have cried right along with Marinette if she could. These two had proven themselves to her and would avoid punishment, just as Nino had.

Taglist (it’s a long one):

@themagicmistic @andromeda612 @ramos123 @t1dwarrior-of-earth @justanotherweirdo277 @irisfox @thestrangestofthemall @plz-excuse-my-inner-ravenclaw @certainmuffinbagelcalzone @the-fandom-girl @wisecolorthing @mewwitch @luxurioushellgirl97 @seraphichana @fantasiame @whydoexamsexist @wispyrainbow @legodetectivemalsblog @kindasoundslikealien @shadowangelreborn @kazedancer @unmaskedagain @7-sage-7 @irontimetravelflower @ghostmaster83 @izang @ulmban @plushbookworm @corabeth11 @darkened-flame @caffeinetheory @iamablinkmarvelarmy @raiderofthelostbooks @cheshire5210 @chocolateherringtacofan @city-of-all-tunas @aadnrsstar @kitten12113 @interobanginyourmom @pandacatxd @nerd-nowandforever @jesussavedevenme @zoiechance @the-smallest-kittenz @wonderbat91939 @maskedpainter @tazer6787 @that-girl-sakea @seesea22 @with-forward-motion @ola-is-dead @thecrazyfantrollshasmoved @bayball @2confused-2doanything @queen-in-a-flower-crown @sabrina1414 @ceres-zephyr @if-you-give-a-chat-a-cookie @zalladane @tails-and-scales @rumbelle18 @sam-spectra @collegefae @pale-lady-dreamer @animegirlweeb @evaraux @consumeconstantly @iz-bell-saiah @puspa-san @wishing-to-be-a-fictional-chara @sassakitty @miraculous-ninja @fandom-trapped-03 @idontfuking @sillyfishrubberducky @anonymousreviewer-t @i-am-fallen-angel @zotinha456 @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @chocolatecatstheron @crypticsabbat @startouchedqueen1318 @para-dox-normal @marinettepotterandplagg @incredulous-reader @professionalfangirl1738 @fangirlnerd001 @redscarlet95 @sixtyeightdays @iamtotalfandomtrash @tazanna-blythe @animehime94 @mysticsoulgirl @miraculouspenta @local-witch-of-mn @roseinbloom02 @senpaiweird @iggy-of-fans @tropestropestropes @sleep-deprived-aroace @comteqfr @neromerp13 @prudencerika @galaxylightmoon @c-s-stars

[delicioussshame]

And now, for something a bit different. Set in the Sugar Baby AU.

Shang Qinghua cannot believe Shen Yuan’s gall. How can he, a very unproductive member of society, dares to criticize Shang Qinghua’s output? At least he contributes something, unlike some people who are paid to look pretty.

And, apparently, do more than that now.

Good for him, really. Shang Qinghua has heard his fair share of horror stories about Luo Binghe, but since Shen Yuan cannot stop singing his praises in that oblivious way of his, he cannot be that bad.

Plus, you know, Luo Binghe is very, very hot. Hot enough that even Shen Yuan, famous for his ability to ignore even the most blatant double entendre, cannot deny it. Shang Qinghua can imagine much worst fates than having to fuck him.

Now, if Shang Qinghua could get him to share all the juicy details, he’s sure it would make for great inspiration.

Not that there is much chance of that happening, not with the way Shen Yuan clams up as soon as Shang Qinghua so much as hints about his sex life.

Shen Yuan is a hypocrite, that’s what he is. He sure isn’t shy about complaining about Shang Qinghua’s sex scenes, or every aspect of Shang Qinghua’s writing.

Well, Shang Qinghua isn’t going to let him get away with it. He’s going to hear about it too! He just has to-

“What are you doing.”

Shang Qingua drops his phone in his haste to shove it down his pockets, so he gets to scramble under his desk like an idiot right in front of his boss. Fucking great. “Nothing! I wasn’t doing anything!”

Mobei-Jun’s angry growl has no right to be this sexy. “You’re supposed to be working. Get to it.”

Shang Qinghua sits back at his desk as fast as possible, randomly pulling a file off his desk while opening one excel spreadsheet or another. “I will! I’ll do it! I’m doing it now! I’m sorry!” That’s what Shang Qinghua gets for maintaining an acquaintance with an old friend who doesn’t have to worry about office hours.

Then again, this is kind of his job? Mobei-Jun wanted him to keep an eye out for anything useful on Luo Binghe, so he’s technically not slacking! “Actually, I was just messaging Shen Yuan, trying to get the info you asked for! He’s not very open, but I’m working on it!” He doesn’t think Shen Yuan will ever give him something Mobei-Jun would benefit from, but not for the reasons he’d think. From the way Shen Yuan complains about Luo Binghe’s general disinterest in the business he’s somehow managing like he was born into it, which he very much wasn’t, it wouldn’t even cross Luo Binghe’s mind to keep Shen Yuan informed on the ins and outs.

So Shang Qinghua is trying to find a way to get Shen Yuan to ask for said intel, cause he has a feeling Luo Binghe would tell him everything without a second thought. For someone who decided to pay their sex partner instead of wooing them, which someone like Luo Binghe could certainly have managed, he seems utterly besotted.

“Can’t we just pay him for it? He’s fine with being a whore; why wouldn’t he accept cash for info?”

Shang Qinghua winces and ducks instinctively to evade the slap Shen Yuan would have given him if he’d called him a whore in his presence. “It’s not quite like that. Shen Yuan’s relationship with Luo Binghe is complicated. Yes, Luo Binghe is paying for him, but from what I’ve gathered, it was more to skip the wooing and get to the good parts faster.” At least that’s what Shang Qinghua thinks happened. Shen Yuan, again, isn’t the most open about the details.

Plus, Shang Qinghua can’t say it didn’t work. Luo Binghe managed to get Shen Yuan living with him and doing nothing but being available to him 24/7. That has to count as a success.

Mobei-Jun seems baffled. “You can do that?”

Shang Qinghua shrugs. “Most people wouldn’t be into it, but I can get behind it. If someone with Luo Binghe’s wealth and looks told me they wanted to finance my lifestyle in exchange of sex, I’d do it in a heartbeat. Good life, here I come!”

Shang Qinghua then remembers he’s talking to his boss and not one of his former college buddies. “Ha ha, not that I really would! I am devoted to my job! I wouldn’t leave it, so please don’t fire me!” He needs the money to live!

“I’d pay you.”

Shang Qinghua startles for a second, before his brain catches up to reality. “Ha ha, that’s a funny joke, Boss.” He doesn’t know why Mobei-Jun chose now to try to develop a sense of humor, but he’s not surprised that when he decides to do so, it’s at Shang Qinghua’s expense.

“Not a joke.” Mobei-Jun takes out his wallets and pulls out what has to be at least a couple thousands yuan, which he waves in the air almost threateningly. “Take it.”

Shang Qinghua is utterly flummoxed. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Shang Qinghua leans over the desk and tentatively takes the money.

In exchange, strong arms grab his waist, lifts him off the chair he was just sitting him like he could do it in his sleep, settles him on the desk and kisses him until Shang Qinghua has to push him back to breathe, because he cannot use his nose and his mouth at the same time right now. Not enough brain cells left.

“The hell?” says Shang Qinghua with all the eloquence he has left.

Then, his brain catches up with his mouth. If, for some unfathomable reason, Mobei-Jun has decided Shang Qinghua was worthy of him spending his money, Shang Qinghua will do the smartest thing he’s ever done and let him.

Why Mobei-Jun just didn’t use his words and tell Shang Qinghua he wanted him, Shang Qinghua will probably never know. It’s not like Shang Qinghua would have told him no. No matter what Shen Yuan says, he’s not stupid. The embodiment of all his fantasies wants to fuck him? Shang Qinghua is into that.

Oh god, Shen Yuan. He’s going to have to explain to him that latest development, will he?

…Naaah. He doesn’t need to know for now.

Anyway, what is there to explain?

…Is there something to explain? Mobei-Jun hasn’t spoken since Shang Qinghua freed himself, so maybe he’s reconsidering? Shit, maybe Shang Qinghua is a terrible kisser? Is he a terrible kisser? Is Mobei-Jun reconsidering? Of course he’s reconsidering. He’s not stupid either.

This train of thoughts is stopped by Mobei-Jun’s growling, grabbing his shoulders, pushing him down on the desk and devouring his mouth.

Shang Qinghua probably isn’t a terrible kisser then! Yes! Also Mobei-Jun isn’t reconsidering, so double yes!

That’s a good thing, because he’s pretty certain he’s going to need the money to replace the shirt Mobei-Jun is apparently very offended by, if the way he ripped it off Shang Qinghua, sending buttons flying everywhere, can be believed. Not that he cares about the shirt. Mobei-Jun can destroy all of them if he wants to. Especially if it’s always following by Mobei-Jun’s teeth getting very familiar with his chest.

Or the rest of him. Mobei-Jun is so lucky Shang Qinghua is both incredibly thirsty for him and suffering from long-term celibacy. He’s definitely willing to go despite the aggressive lack of foreplay.

Not that he can imagine a moment where Mobei-Jun almost tearing his pants open to get his mouth on his cock wouldn’t be welcomed. Shang Qinghua is always down for that. Very, very down for that.

Shang Qinghua balls his hands into fists, nails digging into the flesh of his palms, to stop himself from holding Mobei-Jun’s head. Mobei-Jun might bite them off.

Shang Qinghua also bites his tongue hard enough to bleed. The building is nice enough, but Shang Qinghua can be very loud.  The last thing he wants is for some underling to come running and find them like this. He would feel guilty to have caused a death.

Soon enough, another pressing concern makes itself known. “Boss, ah, please, you should let me go.” Shang Qingqiu has never even dreamed of Mobei-Jun blowing him, but he sure doesn’t seem like the type to swallow, and he wants to keep his cock in working order. He might get to use it more later.

Mobei-Jun glares at him over his cock, which has no business being this hot. Shang Qinghua is sure he felt him twitch and leak on his tongue.

Hey, if Shang Qinghua is wrong and Mobei-Jun is the type to swallow, more power to him. Shang Qinghua isn’t exactly going to complain.

Shang Qinghua whites out when he finally comes, and then probably does so again when he opens his eyes and is faced with Mobei-Jun staring at him, a little whitish drop on the corner of his mouth.

Fuck, he just got blown by Mobei-Jun. When did his life become so great?

Mobei-Jun kisses him again with no less urgency, which Shang Qinghua can sympathize with. He hasn’t done anything for his poor boss, has he? Time to remediate that.

___________

Shang Qinghua blinks repeatedly, trying to keep himself awake after the many, many rounds he’s just gone through.

His back is going to hurt like hell, isn’t it? And not just his back. He’ll probably be out of commission for days.

Doesn’t matter. So worth it. Even if it was a one-time thing, it’d still be worth it.

Is it a one-time thing? Does Shang Qinghua still have a job? Two jobs?

He should ask, right? It’s probably the right time to do so. Even Mobei-Jun probably is in a good mood after getting laid. “Boss?”

Mobei-Jun makes a noise Shang Qinghua decides to interpret as encouragement for him to continue. “Am I your sugar baby now? Do I have to come to work tomorrow?”

Mobei-Jun frowns.

Well, the whole thing was pretty spontaneous. There is probably no plan.

“You’re working tomorrow.”

Ahh, too bad. Well, it was nice while it lasted.

“I have to get you a replacement before you go.”

Shang Qinghua straightens up. “Just to be clear, that’s because you’re going to bankroll me personally, right? Not because I just lost my job for being unprofessional, right?”

Mobei-Jun nods.

Success! Shang Qinghua just won at life! He'll finally get to write whatever he wants instead of what sells! And he’s got a scorching not-boyfriend on top of it! Take that, Shen Yuan! You’re not the only one who can attract crazy rich guys! “Am I moving in with you? Or are we just not-dating? I’ll do whatever you want, no problem! Or wear whatever you want, cause this shirt is so dead I’m not sure how I’m going to leave this room, but I don’t care! You can do it again if you want to!”

Mobei-Jun throws his blazer in Shang Qinghua’s face like he’s an especially rude shoujo manga love interest. “Put this on. I’ll get back to you for the details, but you’ll be moving in with me.”

“Okay! I’ll be waiting!” He’ll wait forever if he has to. So worth it.

He’ll have to remember to buy Shen Yuan something to thank him for making this possible.

He’ll probably order him a bunch of the weirdest sex toys he can find and have them delivered anonymously to Luo Binghe. Shen Yuan will thank him someday.

Okay, he never will, but Shang Qinghua will know in his heart he did right by his friend.

[eliemo]

Something Long and Stupid (Part 2)

Summary: Remus knew he wasn't a good person. He was Deadpool, a killer for hire, "the merc with a mouth." He'd come to terms with what he was a long time ago. He didn't need Spiderman to remind him of what he was.

He didn't need Virgil to come into his life and make him question it for the first time

Notes: Violence, blood, gore, sexual inneundos

I didn't make a taglist for this story but I know @teamplutoforlife wanted to be tagged <3 And thank you @cheshirevalentine for editing

Part 1

Remus was falling, twisting onto his back as he plummeted towards the ground, the buildings around him nothing but a blur as he flew past. He could faintly hear the construction on the ground over the pounding of his own heart and the howling of the wind rushing past him, barely hearing the alarmed shouts of the workers watching him fall.

Virgil was nothing but a speck in the distance now, perched on the edge of the roof. Lifeless white eyes watched him fall, unfeeling and still.

Pain exploded in Remus’s back as he slammed into something sharp, legs hitting the ground when he finally stopped falling. He could just barely make out the rusty, blood stained spike in front of him, poking through his chest from his back where he'd fallen, blood pooling around the wound and into his suit.

-

“Hey.”

Remus jumped so hard he nearly fell off the roof, scrambling to his feet and reaching for his gun as he whirled around to face whoever the fuck was stupid enough to sneak up on him.

Spiderman was perched beside him, apparently fine after his near death experience last night, and holding… a pizza box?

“Hey,” Remus said carefully. “What the fuck?”

Spiderman shrugged and held out the box in his hand. “I have pizza. You asked for pizza.”

Remus stared for a moment, frozen where he stood with his hand hovering over his gun, trying to figure out if this was a joke. “You… actually brought it?”

“Yeah?” Spiderman said, like he didn’t understand how this was in any way strange. “Oh did you… were you joking? Did you not actually want it, or—”

“No, I did.” Remus stayed right where he was. What the hell was this? Was this a prank? Was he being pranked?

“Then… here,” Spiderman said. He held out the pizza box, close enough for Remus to cautiously take. “I didn’t know what you liked so I just got cheese. But cheese is good. Everyone likes cheese.”

Holy shit. Spiderman was a dweeb.

Remus carefully opened the pizza box, and when there wasn’t a bomb or some kind of spider-themed booby trap inside, just a freshly baked cheese pizza from some local place he’d vaguely heard of, Remus let his shoulders relax and barked out a laugh.

“Well shit,” he said, pleasantly surprised. “Thanks, Webs.”

Spidey was shuffling a bit, looking ridiculously awkward, and Remus was suddenly reminded that they were both just… people under their masks. “Uh, yeah. No problem.”

Remus hesitated, because he hadn’t been kidding about Spiderman owing him a pizza he just… hadn’t actually expected him to follow through. There was no way Remus was eating all of it on his own, he barely ate much as it was.

“Do you, like…” he paused, wondering if this was going to get him punched or laughed at. “Do you want a slice?”

Spiderman actually startled, like him being asked to lunch was just as rare as Remus asking someone to lunch. Jeez, he’d have figured people begged Spiderman to eat with them all the time.

“I, uh… I bought it for you, so—”

“Yeah, and I’m offering. Christ, do you want some pizza or not?”

Spidey still hesitated, and while it was annoying as hell Remus supposed he’d be a hypocrite to judge when he’d been half convinced there was a bomb in the pizza box two minutes ago.

Well, it wasn’t like it would have been the first time.

“Uh, sure,” Spiderman said, still visibly wary. “Thank you.”

Remus ignored him in favor of opening the pizza box and setting it down, motioning for the vigilante to take as much as he wanted.

It wasn’t until Spidey turned away slightly to hook his fingers under the bottom of his mask that Remus remembered- duh- they both had to pull up their masks to eat.

It wasn’t a problem, it wouldn’t be nearly enough to risk exposing their faces to each other, but Remus really wasn’t in the mood to be gawked at. A glance at his jaw might ruin Spiderman’s lunch.

“I’m not looking,” Spidey said, and Remus realized he’d been hesitating for a few too many seconds. “I can go, if you don’t wanna pull up your mask around anyone.”

Remus waved him off, even as he continued to fiddle with the leather. “I’ve got some scars, is all. Like… a lot. People think they’re gross.”

“Oh,” Spiderman said, and then simply shrugged. “That’s fine, I don’t care. Scars happen, dude. I’ve got a bunch.”

Remus still hesitated, a little caught off guard from Spiderman calling him ‘dude' while so nonchalantly eating his pizza just a few feet away, but he quickly pulled himself together and tugged his leather mask up just below his nose.

It was just a few inches of skin, and still enough to reveal a handful of scars littered across his jaw, and the one that stretched down from his cheek.

Spidey barely glanced at him, which Remus guessed he should have seen coming. It’d be a little out of character for New York’s hero to be an asshole about someone’s scars, but you never knew with heroes. Some of them were pretentious assholes.

They ate their pizza like common civilians, perched on their rooftop and watching the people of New York mingle below.

Remus barely ate two slices. He didn’t really eat much to begin with, and it was far more entertaining to watch in silent awe as Spiderman easily finished the rest of the box. The hero was a good two heads shorter than Remus, and looked like he barely weighed a hundred pounds. If Remus didn’t know better, he’d think the guy never ate at all.

“My metabolism is different,” he explained sheepishly when he caught Reus staring. “I eat more than… you know. You. Regular people.”

Remus scoffed, because this was definitely the first time anyone had described him as a ‘regular person’ but he let it slide with an eye roll and a thanks for lunch.

They parted ways, and Remus let himself relax at the thought of having one less enemy roaming New York.

Remus hadn’t meant to start hanging out with Spiderman.

Really, he hadn’t. The impromptu pizza date was supposed to be the end of it, just a slightly awkward peace offering that made it clear neither of them would actively try to kill each other in the near future.

Remus had saved Spiderman because he was bored, and Spiderman had bought him a pizza. That was all.

But then less than a week later Spiderman had swung (literally) by with takeout- coincidentally from Remus’s favorite place a few blocks away- and Remus hadn’t been able to say no to sharing.

They’d shared a meal together three times in the last two weeks, and Remus was starting to think it wasn’t an accident.

It probably wasn’t helping that Remus had started carrying snacks on him.

Remus wasn’t going to eat them himself, and Spiderman was always complaining about how hungry he was, so he’d just started keeping packets of gummies or granola for when he saw the hero swinging past. Chucking them at his head was good target practice, anyway.

That didn’t mean they were friends. Remus didn’t have friends, because being friends with Deadpool was possibly the dumbest idea anyone could ever have.

Remus had seen what happens when people get close to him. He wasn’t going to go through that again.

Apparently, Spiderman had other ideas.

It had been just another fight that Remus had happened to run into, watching for a moment as Spiderman took down what was probably his third armed robbery of the day.

He knew he probably could have just continued on his way and gotten lunch, but there were five of them, all armed, and Remus didn’t feel great about those odds despite Spidey’s reputation.

So Remus had decided to return the favor, Spiderman had introduced himself by butting into Deadpool's fight after all, and stepped in to finish the job twice as fast.

And it had gone fine. Spiderman had greeted him with stupidly cheeky finger guns and unfortunately insisted they keep all of them alive, which wasn’t Remus’s specialty but he’d manage.

It had been easy, some druggie civilians no match for New York’s hero and the merc with a mouth, three of them encased in webbing within two minutes, another on the ground with a bullet in his knee.

It had been fine, until Remus was shot in the chest.

Which, to be fair, wasn’t a big deal. He was shot in the chest all the time. It’d be a hassle if he didn’t get the bullet out before his skin healed around it, but it wasn’t like he could die.

It occurred to him a bit too late that he had forgotten to tell Spiderman that.

“No!”

The raw panic and emotion In Spidey’s voice caught Remus off guard as he stumbled backwards, pain he was unfortunately used to by now exploding in his chest as the bullet met its mark. There had been a fifth goon, hiding out and biding his time, which would have been a great plan if it didn’t end with a face of webs and a swift punch to the temple.

Remus lowered himself to the ground, the wind knocked out of him, dark crimson blood pooling around his hand and flooding through his fingers as he clutched the wound.

Spiderman was rushing over, and Remus could practically feel the worry behind that lifeless mask. He skidded to a stop and dropped to a crouch, hands hovering, frantic and unsure.

And maybe Remus was just an asshole, but this was fucking hilarious.

“Deadpool?” Spidey called, the vigilante leaning over him as Remus dropped to lay on his back. “Jesus- hang in there okay? You’ll be fine.”

Remus forced himself to cough, wet and ragged, biting back a smile. “This is it for me, Webs. I can see the light.”

“Deadpool shut the fuck up!”

“Everything’s getting dark—”

“I said shut up,” Spiderman snapped, and Remus gasped involuntarily, arching his back when gloved hands pressed down on the wound. “You’re gonna be fine, you’re… just- just stay awake, okay? Don’t close your eyes.”

Remus coughed again to hide a smile, blood splattering his chin, closing his eyes anyway and letting his head fall back on the concrete. He stopped listening to Spidey’s rambling, committing to the bit of playing dead- very obviously playing dead, for the record. He stuck his tongue out the side of his mouth and everything, waiting for Spiderman to catch on and tell him off.

“No!” Except Spidey still sounded genuinely distressed, only pressing harder on the wound. “No, no, no! Deadpool! Wake up!”

Well. This wasn’t any fun if Spiderman was too panicked to even pay attention. He sighed, opening his eyes again to sit up slightly and whack the vigilante’s shoulder.

“I can’t die, stupid,” he said, grinning when Spiderman scrambled back. “Cut it out. I’ve just gotta get the bullet out so it doesn’t heal around it. Those things hurt like a bitch, so—”

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

Remus opened his mouth to respond, because there were lots of things wrong with him and he had a list at the ready. But he didn’t get the chance because suddenly Spidey was throwing himself forward, wrapping his arms around Remus and pulling him close, probably getting blood all over his suit.

Haha, what the fuck?

“You’re such a bitch,” Spiderman said, muffled since his face was practically buried in Remus’s shoulder. “You’re the fucking worst.”

“Aww, were you worried about me?” Remus asked, burying his shock. “That’s so sweet, Spidey.”

“Shut the hell up,” Spiderman growled. “I thought you were going to die.”

“You were so worried! It was so cute, oh my god!”

Spiderman finally pulled back, only to rear back and punch Remus square in the shoulder. Hard.

Remus barked out a laugh, now nursing two injuries. “Fucking- ow. I still feel pain.”

“Sucks.”

Remus crossed his arms, wincing when it pulled at the bullet wound still in his chest. “Rude.”

“I’m rude?” Spiderman asked, incredulous. “You thought it would be funny to play dead!”

“To be fair,” Remus argued. “It was funny.”

“No it wasn’t!”

Remus shrugged, already turning his attention to the bullet in his chest. “If you had known it would be funny.”

“Well I didn’t,” he said, the mask’s white eyes glued to Remus’s hands. “I thought you were dying.”

“I can’t die,” Remus said. “That’s not a joke, Webs. I don’t just regenerate fast, I can’t be killed.”

“How the fuck was I supposed to know that?”

Remus shrugged, a little put off because this was not how he’d expected this to go. Damn Spiderman and his stupid savior complex.

He turned his attention back to the bullet wound, the pain already faded to a familiar numbness, but two gloved hands grabbed his wrists before he could start digging around for the bullet.

“Here,” he said, obnoxiously soft. “I’ve got it, let me help.”

“Nah, it’s cool,” Remus said, tensing against his will at the thought of someone else caring for a wound. “It’s not too deep, I can get it.”

“Are your gloves clean?”

He took a minute to consider that, calculating the swords he’d been holding, the gun he’d reloaded that morning, coming up blank when he tried to think of the last time he’d properly cleaned any of his weapons. Not to mention he had to climb buildings with his hands, lacking Spidey’s abilities to walk up walls and propel himself across the city in seconds.

“Probably,” he lied. “What am I gonna do, get sick?”

Spiderman hesitated. “Do you do that?”

“No.”

“I can still get it,” Spidey said. “Let me help.”

Remus scoffed, trying to cover up his own uneasiness. “You wanna stick your hand in there? You know it’s gross, right?”

“I know how to remove a bullet, Deadpool,” Spiderman said. “I’ve gotten shot before, I can get it.”

There was no reason not to drop his arms and let Spiderman do what he wanted. The asshole was stubborn, but he obviously meant well. With how shaky Remus’s hands were, Spidey getting the bullet out would probably be quicker anyway.

And he was the city’s hero. He’d made it clear he didn’t mean Deadpool any harm, especially not when the Merc had so graciously dropped in to save his ass today.

Remus didn’t know why it was so hard to just relax.

“This is dumb,” he said, wondering if he could annoy Spidey into giving up. “I can handle it fine.”

“I know,” the vigilante said. “But I want to help. It’s like...returning the favor or whatever.”

Remus sighed, a little shaky now, but reluctantly nodded. The longer they argued, the faster the skin would heal over the bullet still lodged in his chest, and Remus would really like to avoid that happening. Again.

“Fine,” he growled. “Jesus, you’re stubborn.”

Under the mask, Remus was sure Spiderman was smirking at him. “Look who’s talking.”

Remus hadn’t expected Spiderman to be so gentle. He was digging a bullet wound out of Deadpool’s chest, there wasn’t really a way to make this a pleasant experience, but Spidey was taking his time, moving carefully as he dug into the wound.

“Could you hurry up?” Remus growled, teeth clenched. This would have been over in seconds if he was doing it himself. It was so much easier to just stick his hand in the wound, dig around for a second, and rip the bullet out. “I’m not exactly a fan of having someone else’s fingers in my chest.”

Spiderman didn’t even spare him a glance. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I got shot,” Remus snapped. “We’re well past that.”

Spidey didn’t respond after that and Remus for once stayed quiet to let him concentrate, breathing heavily to try to ignore the panic that came with being vulnerable like this. The vigilante couldn’t kill him, but he sure as hell could cause him a shit ton of pain.

But he wouldn’t. Remus had to keep reminding himself that he wouldn’t. Spiderman was insufferably good- he wouldn’t kick someone while they were down.

Eventually Spiderman’s fingers found the bullet and Remus gasped, forcing himself to shove the pain away and make a lewd sounding moan when Spidey’s fingers left the wound.

“Jesus,” Spiderman muttered, and Remus laughed when he tossed the bullet dripping in dark blood to the side. “You okay?”

“Oh, I’m fine,” Remus said, and he was. Physically at least. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a civil conversation with someone, let alone had someone willing to help patch him up. “See? All good. It’s already healing itself.”

True to his word, Remus’s chest was fusing itself back together, skin closing up over the still bleeding wound, the rest of the pain fading to a background throb. It’d be like nothing ever happened in ten minutes.

“Holy shit,” Spiderman muttered, leaning in close to watch. Remus tensed uncomfortably. “That’s...fucking wild.”

“Yeah, it’s great.” Remus brushed it off, scrambling to his feet and ignoring the way Spidey moved to try and help. “Anyways. Are there any more fights you need me to hold your hand through, or can I go take a nap?”

“Oh please,” Spidey scoffed. “I was fine. All you did was get in the way and get shot.”

“I saved your ass,” Remus retorted, smiling behind the leather mask. “You’d be dead if it weren’t for me, Webs.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Spiderman mumbled, but Remus was willing to bet money he was smiling too. “Go take your nap, Deadpool.”

Remus gave a mock salute, sheathing his sword and turning away from the remnants of the battle and starting for his apartment.

Maybe Spidey wasn’t so bad after all.

[chocoholicannanymous]

Gonna Come True (Glee)

AN: This is a follow-up to There's a Miracle Due which was written for the Glee Twistfest, “What if Mercedes & Kurt got Maria & Tony?” back in 2014 (yikes). I had the storyline for this already back then (hello, all of three lines in a document), it's just taken me until now to actually write it. 

For @krummavisur who wanted it.

Thanks to @elledelajoie for looking it over .

The title is taken from “Something Coming”, West Side Story.

Oh, and I am not trying to follow any kind of canon time-line. Just, go with it.

Gonna Come True

Kurt throws himself into preparing for West Side Story with an energy that makes Mercedes envious. She understands though – he doesn't feel like he got the role honestly, which is bullshit, but. He still thinks he needs to prove himself. In her eyes he did so during his audition, and it's everyone else who needs to prove themselves to him, but he doesn't see it that way. Years of Lima bullshit stops him from seeing it.

He doesn't drop out of the race for senior class president though, not even when he's complaining about balancing that with Tony and school and Blaine. She asks him why and gets an answer she should have expected.

“At first this was about getting at least something on my resume. But that's not it any longer. I'm running as a reminder that bullying is a problem at this school, and that something needs to be done. If I win – and I don't expect to, not here – then I have a shot at making the administration do something. If I lose I still raise awareness. Every time I speak about my agenda I force the people listening to remember that bullying is an issue, that bullying kills, and that it is not okay.

“That's worth losing a little sleep.”

Mercedes's heart swells at hearing her boo speak so passionately about it, and it breaks as she hears an angry Santana tell Brittany that she should run against Kurt.

Kurt who is currently pulling down unicorn posters around the school while pushing back tears.

She waits until Brittany walks away before cornering Santana.

“We need to talk. What you just told Brit? That's a shit thing to do.”

Santana starts to argue, all fire, and under other circumstances Mercedes would admire her willingness to go to bat for her girl, but not now.

“No. Don't you dare. Do you know why Kurt is so upset over those posters? It's because to him they represent everything that he's been bullied over. And that? Has a lot to do with you. You have been sitting in the choir room for two years, mocking him for what he likes and for who he is.

“So here we are. Him running on an anti-bullying platform, and your girlfriend plastering the school with posters reminding him of exactly that bullying. Do I really need to explain to you why it is that when Kurt looks at those posters he doesn't see Brit's intentions, her meaning – he sees your bullying.”

Mercedes sees her words are hitting home, even if Santana is putting up a good front.

“Oh, and Santana? When you mock Kurt for being gay it makes you a hypocrite. But when you mock him for being 'girly'? It's even worse. Because when you say that there's something wrong with being like a girl, you're implying that there's something wrong with being a girl. And I'm not okay with that.

“Now, you are going to go back to Brit and tell her exactly what happened here, and you're going to make sure that she forgets all about running against him. He's had enough of his so-called friends doing that, I'd think.

“I'm not saying this – any of this – to be mean. I'm trying to be a good friend, to Kurt and to you. But make no mistake. You ruin this for Kurt? I'll ruin you.”

Mercedes might not be popular like a cheerleader, but she's got friends and she's got contacts outside of school. Her threat's not an empty one, and Santana knows it.

Her phone's ringing. There's something hitting her window, and her phone's ringing. At half past eleven on a school night.

Whoever it is, Mercedes is going to cut them.

Except it's Kurt, and he's not looking right.

As she lets him in through the back-door Mercedes notices the wrinkled clothes and the mussed hair that doesn't fit with a night of dancing. More making out, but Kurt doesn't have that well-kissed look. Plus, he's pale and shaky.

Something's wrong.

It takes her a long time to coax the story out of him, about Blaine trying to rape him. Except when she says that Kurt denies it, vehemently.

“Are you serious right now? Are you defending him? No! Okay? No. Hell no even.

“Look, if I showed up at your place and told you Shane had pulled me into the backseat of a car, had tried to get my clothes off and wouldn't stop touching me even though I said no, what would you tell me? Would you tell me it was okay because we're dating? That he's allowed to do that because I'm in love with him and he treats me good the rest of the time? Would you tell me to suck it up and forgive him?

“Would you explain away that and tell me that if he won't respect my 'no' the solution is to say 'yes' instead?”

Kurt's even paler now, his eyes blown and unfocused. He doesn't say anything though. Instead he just whimpers and rushes out to the bathroom.

When he comes back he's regained some color. He still looks like shit though. Mercedes pulls out some comfortable clothes that were bought for her brother, but got conscripted as backup for unplanned Kurt-visits, and leaves him to change while she gets them some chamomile tea.

Later, as the lights are out and they're curled up together, trying to get what rest they can Kurt whispers: “I'm going to have to break up with him, aren't I?”

She holds him as he cries himself to sleep.

The next day Kurt pretends like nothing's happened. He doesn't want to rock the boat before the West Side Story premiere, he says, or deal with the bitchfit Rachel would throw. “I'll do it after the final performance on Sunday” he promises, and Mercedes doesn't have it in her to push him. Not with the memory of his tears so fresh.

Dress rehearsal that night goes well, right up to the point where Artie comes to talk to them after. They need more fire, more passion, he claims and then proceeds to tell them that they should hurry up and have sex before their first show so they can portray lovers more believably. Oh, he doesn't put it quite like that, but it's pretty obvious that's what he means.

Mercedes is stunned at first, and then furious. She's surprised that Kurt's not ripping into him, with everything, and oh. Hell no.

“Are you telling me to have sex to improve the show you're directing? Really? How about you get some classes or something, to improve your part? You know, instead of sexually harassing me.”

Artie sputters out what's probably meant as a denial, but she just talks right over him.

“If you as much as breathe about this again, to anyone, I will report you. And then my mama will go have a talk with your parents about how they've failed at raising you to be a decent human being.

“Do you get me?”

He nods quickly, mumbles something and makes a hasty retreat. Just as he goes out the door Kurt's voice rings out, cold.

“And to think I remember a boy who grieved that his first time wasn't romantic enough. I wonder what he would think of you now.”

Artie doesn't say anything, or slow down, but he slumps a little in his chair as the barb hits home. Mercedes shifts her attention to Kurt and sees pale skin, rigid posture and shaky hands. He's thinking the same thing she is.

“Boo...”

“No, 'Cedes, please. Let's not speculate about whether or not he had that speech with the others first. I can't, not now.”

So she lets it go. For now.

Mercedes is on stage for the opening show Friday night along with Kurt. Not in the spotlight, sure, but still there. She can't help but compare Rachel and Blaine's performance with what she and Kurt can do, and they come up short. Tomorrow night, she thinks. Tomorrow night we're going to show them how it's really done.

She says as much to Kurt as they leave together and he laughs, the first sign of happiness she's heard from him in two days. The laughter dies out soon as he spots a bunch of well-dressed boys waiting outside. She recognizes a few from Kurt's time at Dalton, but not all of them. She'd think it nice of them to come see their friends perform, except judging from Kurt's reaction they're not an entirely welcome sight.

He still greets them politely, smiling that small “company smile” she doesn't like while asking if they remember Mercedes.

“And this,” he says with strained, icy politeness, “is Sebastian Smythe, this year's new transfer to Dalton.”

This then is the reason they're not welcome. Still, she follows Kurt's example and pulls out church manners.

Apparently the boys have been given tickets by Blaine, the tall new boy explains, before trying to needle Kurt.

“So, Officer Krupke? How did that feel, such a...manly role?”

Ouch.

“Oh, you know, it's not about the role, it's what you put into it. And it makes for an interesting contrast to tomorrow and playing Tony. ”

Everyone quiets at that and the mood gets slightly uncomfortable. Trent is about to break the silence, but Sebastian talks right over him.

“Right. Well, we'll have to withhold judgment until after of course, but I'd say you'll have a hard time measuring up to Blaine. And you,” he turns to Mercedes, “are you also playing another role tomorrow? This one's Maria perhaps?”

She nods without explaining, and then listens as the boys stumble over excuses about not knowing exactly who'll be there tomorrow, but “We're sure you'll do great, Kurt!”

Once they're out of sight Kurt sags a little.

“He didn't tell them. He went to Dalton to tell them about the show, and give them tickets, and he didn't tell them I was in it. Didn't tell them I was also playing Tony. They tried to cover it up, but... They were my friends too, and he didn't tell them.”

She loops an arm around his waist and snuggles close.

He deserves so much better.

There's a group of Dalton boys there next evening again, making Kurt smile and Blaine startle. Some are from the evening before, including the sharp Sebastian, some are new. They all applaud enthusiastically, and wait so they can congratulate Kurt on his performance. Mercedes pays extra attention to Sebastian, for some reason, but all he says is “not bad”. It sounds genuine though, and so is Kurt's smile as he nods and thanks the other boy.

Mercedes knows they did better than “not bad”. They were awesome together. She doesn't need to hear it from this reluctant boy though. She's got a better source.

They skip the cast party. Kurt's not eager to be with Blaine, especially since there might be alcohol involved, and Mercedes prefers celebrating with her boyfriend who has been a rock. There's a small sting as Kurt walks away alone, but it slips away as she accepts Shane's flowers and kiss and walks out on his arm.

The next morning Mercedes shows up at the Hummel-Hudson house almost uncomfortably early. She drags a still sleep-tussled Kurt to the dining table and spreads out the Gazette in front of him. It's already open to the right page and she sees exactly when Kurt realizes what she's got.

“You read that, I'll fix breakfast.”

She's brought coffee from home along with juice and fresh croissants from the bakery a block away and a small carton of strawberries. It's a luxury, but it's a well-deserved one. It's the work of no time to put it all out along with cups and plates, and as she does that she hears Kurt's voice rise, reading select paragraphs out loud.

“Rachel Berry's 'Maria' is technically perfect, with the singer hitting every note. Sadly that excellence does not extend to the rest of her performance. Ms Berry fails to provide personality and emotion, and simply put she lacks the ability to bring Maria to life.”

He stops, shakes his head and looks at her.

“Ehm, ouch?”

Yes.

“Blaine Anderson as Tony does not help. Where a better singer and actor could shore up his counterpart Anderson falls flat. 'Flat' is in fact the word that comes to mind most often when seeing and listening to him performing. Anderson fails to hit the notes in several of the songs, and often resorts to what must be described as screaming instead of singing. He lacks the range needed to play Tony, and obviously also the training needed to make up for his shortcomings.

“On the acting side it's equally flat. Anderson's body language and facial expressions are mostly too subtle – or possibly non-existent – to come across from the stage, making it like watching a cardboard cut-out most of the time. On the other hand, when he does come across it's much too exaggerated, making his Tony look like a caricature. (I find myself looking at the playbill to see if this is meant to be a comedic take on this epic show. It's not.)

“Holy shit, 'Cedes!”

Yessssss.

“Finally, the dancing. Here, Anderson does better – most of the time. He clearly favors certain parts of the choreography, and there he does very well. In other parts it is obvious that Anderson lacks either the desire or the ability to perform according to choreography. This shows, as other cast members – including Ms Berry's Maria – often have to adjust their own moves to accommodate Anderson, either because he takes up too much space or because he simply isn't where he is supposed to be.

“Towards the end of the show Anderson also shows a surprising lack of stamina, and almost literally falls flat as he stumbles through some of the steps.

“The rest of the cast...”

Kurt's voice peters off, and he looks at her, stunned. Mercedes only smiles, satisfied.

“You should read on. Really.”

Kurt looks at her with skepticism, but does as she says. She knows exactly when he hits the part she wanted him to see, because he looks up at her, wide-eyed and slightly stunned.

“After this the pair playing Maria and Tony during Saturday's performance – as well as today's matinée – is a pleasant surprise. Mercedes Jones and Kurt Hummel bring our lovers to life in a way that looks more like a professional setup than a high school play. Not only are they both talented singers, but they also manage to communicate the story to the audience and play off each other in a way that lifts the entire show.

“It is noticeable, having seen both sets of performers that like Anderson Jones has some difficulty with the choreography. However the adjustments made to cater to her limitations in no way come off as a lesser version of what Berry performs, and does in fact make her look better than Anderson's attempt at a more complex choreography. Meanwhile Hummel needs no such adjustments and manages to pair vocals with dancing in a truly impressive manner.

“Hummel's vocals could take up an article of its own, and so this reporter will just note that it comes as no surprise that Hummel is pursuing schooling and later a career in performing arts. We are looking forward to seeing him on stage on many more occasions.”

Kurt drops the paper and blinks like an owl.

“Am I dreaming? Did an actual reporter not only attend a West Side Story performance at McKinley to write about it in the Gazette, but they actually went twice?”

“Yeah boo.”

“And they actually wrote that we did better than Rachel and Blaine?”

“Yeah, they did. And they were right, you know. You did so much better than Blaine that he should be embarrassed.”

Kurt blushes a little, then pulls a grimace.

“What?”

“I was just thinking... I've been wondering if breaking up with Blaine over what happened was an overreaction, because...” He meets her eye, and looks away. “Anyway, I'm reading this and instead of being happy for me – for us – I can't help but think that Blaine's going to go ballistic. And that waiting for the show to be over probably wasn't that great of an idea. He's going to expect me to listen to him whine about this.”

Mercedes isn't surprised to hear that Kurt's been considering forgiving his boyfriend. A bit disappointed, sure, but not surprised. He always was more loyal than people deserved. She is surprised that he's being that clear-sighted about Blaine though. That's good. That means he's probably going to follow through.

As if cued Kurt's phone starts buzzing and they both look at the screen. Blaine. Mercedes makes an unhappy face. Kurt... Kurt looks upset and rejects the call before turning the sound off.

“Boo?”

“I am not going to ruin my afterglow by listening to him complain about how no one appreciates him. Not when I'm already going to break up with him. Just, no.

“Instead I'm going to enjoy this lovely breakfast with my gorgeous leading lady, and then I'm going to read that article again and gloat. Oh, and then I'm going out to get myself a couple of extra copies as proof that even in Lima people can see our talent.

“I don't know how you did it, but you, my dear, pulled off a miracle.”

And she has, hasn't she? Not by making someone see and recognize Kurt's talent, though, but by making him smile, wide and open.

That's her miracle, right there.

~ The End ~

[blossom-hwa]

Light the Pyres |Burn| - SUNGYOON

This chapter hurt so much I'm really sorry

Pairing: Sungyoon x gender neutral!reader

Genre: angst, bits of fluff, apocalypse!au

Triggers: cursing, implied death, semi-graphic depictions of blood

Word Count: 7.9k

As the world burns its last goodbyes, you find a jewel amidst the ashes.

Previous: Rise >> Burn

Golden Child Masterlist

If times were normal, three weeks stuck in the same space with anyone but Daeyeol or your mother would probably drive you insane. Only seeing one other person’s face for days after days on end? You’d almost rather be alone.

But whether it be because you have shared memories and common grief or simply because you’re compatible human beings, Sungyoon isn’t difficult to live with, not in the slightest. You don’t fight over food or water or living in the same space. His voice doesn’t grate on your nerves, even after a week of him being the only person you can talk to. He isn’t almost pleasant company anymore – he’s just pleasant.

Maybe even a little more than that.

Over one, two, then three weeks, you come apart to each other, exposing small bits of yourselves from beneath threads frayed by the apocalypse. Sungyoon craves coffee more than anything in the world. He used to be the fastest runner on his high school track team. He tells you his favorite color is black, and just to keep the conversation going you decide that black isn’t a real color since it’s technically the absence of all color, which sparks a debate that maybe grows a little too loud every once in a while but by the end, you’re laughing at Sungyoon’s indignant expression that slowly cracks into a smile.

Laughing. Not smirking. At something not morbid or deadly.

It feels almost surreal, being able to smile at a topic so inane.

“What’s your credibility, huh?” Sungyoon asks when you’ve stopped laughing, having given into a grudging smile himself. It makes his face look sweeter, gentler. “What makes you an expert on colors or the absence of them?”

“I did mechanical engineering in university,” you say, leaning back against the wall. Memories threaten to flood your mind but you keep them at bay, closing your eyes against the onslaught. “Took a few chemistry classes as a requirement. We learned about colors at some point.” You open your eyes and shrug. “It was kind of interesting, but not enough for me to change my major.”

“Mechanical engineering,” Sungyoon echoes, staring up at the ceiling. You kind of have to give it to him – you might be bored sitting around in this empty house sometimes, but he’s confined to the bed if he isn’t using the bathroom and he hasn’t complained yet. “That’s cool. Is that how you got that car to work before?”

“Yeah.” You swallow, a slightly bitter taste in your mouth at the memories of your almost finished second degree. “Mom was a mechanic. I grew up around cars and machines. I was almost done with my master’s when…”

When the apocalypse began and I started out across the country to find my mom.

From Sungyoon’s silence, you gather that he understands what you haven’t said. He also seems to understand you don’t want to talk about it and thankfully changes the topic. “I did sports medicine,” he says. “And I minored in music.”

You sit up. “Music? What did you play?”

“I can play a little piano, but I mostly sing – sang,” he corrects himself, a faraway look coming into his eyes.

You don’t miss the switch from present to past tense. Mood dampened, you both sit in silence for a moment, mourning the loss of your lives before they’d barely begun.

“I used to play piano,” you finally say, trying to salvage the conversation. “I wonder if it’s still at home,” you mumble, more to yourself than anybody.

“If it’s any consolation, people aren’t really looking for valuables at a time like this.” Sungyoon gives you a lopsided smile. “Assuming… well, even if people have broken in, I don’t think the piano would be the first thing they were looking for.”

You know Sungyoon means to comfort you, but the implication that anything happened to your house, to your home makes your heart stutter. It’s not a strange thing, people breaking into houses. Oftentimes they’re already open, the occupants either dead or fled. 

But it’s your house, your home, and the thought that anything might’ve happened to it with your mom there flips your stomach.

Hypocrite. You’re sitting in one of those stolen homes right now, but you have a problem with people sitting in yours.

“Y/N?”

You look over to see Sungyoon staring back, concern in his expression. Swallowing, you try to smile. “Sorry, what?”

“Nothing,” he says. “You just went quiet for a bit.” He raises an eyebrow. “Thoughts?”

What do you say? Do you tell Sungyoon what you’re really thinking? Do you tell him you’re terrified of coming home to a house that’s been ransacked and laid bare? Do you tell him you’re scared of finding your mom in an empty home with nothing around her left, that you’re even more scared of finding an empty home with no mother inside?

You curve your lips, trusting Sungyoon won’t ask even if he sees that the smile doesn’t reach your eyes. “No,” you lie. “It’s nothing. So.” You look at him, your smile turning a little more genuine. “You sing?”

. . . . .

He does. He sings.

Beautifully.

His voice breaks sometimes, of course. Weeks of forced silence have taken tolls on both of your throats, and even speaking hurts if you talk too long. But the longer he sings, the longer his song fills your ears, the stronger his voice grows, rich and powerful even in his hushed melodies. It wraps around you like a blanket or a shawl, warming your skin in a way even the sun can’t.

When he first spoke to you so many weeks ago, told you not to hurt yourself by kicking the car down that one horrible day, you thought he could be a singer, thought that his voice was smooth, clear. Like Daeyeol’s. You hated it then, when it only reminded you of your best friend and what he was no longer around to do, what you had lost trying to save this boy with a nice voice who didn’t deserve it.

You still hear hints of Daeyeol’s clarity in Sungyoon’s quiet song. Even more obvious is the love of music in Sungyoon’s eyes that perfectly matches that of your dead friend. The few times Daeyeol hummed old songs to get you to sleep when the sun was still up, he always wore that look in his eyes. It fit him like a second skin, that soft love for music dancing in his expression, and you would try to keep that look in mind as he soothed you into sleep. It brought you both back to better times, when death didn’t lurk around every corner.

It hurts a little to see this look in Sungyoon’s face, for sure, but it also soothes another pain, the pain of knowing that you’ll never see Daeyeol ever again until it’s your turn to go. Because even though you’ll never gaze on his face again during your time on this earth, you’ll still see bits of him, hear parts of him in Sungyoon’s eyes and voice. Where that reminder might’ve felt like a stab in the chest before, it now smooths a blanket over your body, wrapping you in the knowledge that Daeyeol will always live with you, in your memories and in Sungyoon’s voice.

Sungyoon doesn’t ask why you’re crying when he finishes his song, even though he can definitely see you wiping away tears from your perch at the foot of his bed. You don’t make an effort to hide it, really – you’ve done worse things in front of him than cry, and besides, he looks a little teary himself. For a moment, you only sit in your respective positions, trying to rein in your tears until he breaks the silence again.

“That was my sister’s favorite song,” he whispers. “She played it so much that Bomin once threatened to delete it off of her playlist.”

You swallow at the mention of his sister and her boyfriend, guilt snaking its way up your chest. It’s a little easier to ignore right now, though, especially when you realize that this is the first time Sungyoon’s put a name to either of the two people you shot. “Bomin was her boyfriend?” you ask.

He nods. “I never said?”

As you shake your head, it only just occurs to you how little you know of Sungyoon’s family. You haven’t said that much – he knows about your mom and Daeyeol, but little of anyone else – but even that seems like a lot compared to what little he has (more like hasn’t) said about his family. You don’t even know his sister’s name.

You’re not even sure you want to. Putting a name to dead faces, faces that you shot bullets through…

Swallowing, you shake your head again, this time more trying to clear your head than say no. “No, you never mentioned it.”

“Oh.” He pauses. “Bomin was Sumin’s boyfriend. Sumin was my sister.”

Bomin. Sumin. The addition of two names to your repertoire (and the past tense for Bomin) nearly makes your head spin. Bomin with dyed, pale hair, Sumin with dark. Bomin with chiseled, handsome features marred by white skin and dark veins. Sumin with a round, soft face and eyes that probably would’ve looked lovely with a smile had they not been shrunken with disease.

You didn’t know either of them at all, which just makes the fact that you put a bullet through each of their heads even worse.

In fact, you pressured Sungyoon into letting you do it.

Both of you agreed not to apologize anymore. But the only words hanging on the tip of your tongue consist of I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Sungyoon, I’m sorry –

“It wasn’t your fault.”

You blink. “What?”

“It wasn’t your fault.” Sungyoon’s eyes bore into yours softly, understanding and reproachful all at once. “That’s what you were thinking, wasn’t it? Bomin and Sumin.”

Despite everything, a wry little smile curls the corner of your mouth. “Was it that obvious?”

“Only to someone who saw what happened.” Sungyoon shifts on the bed, sitting up against the wall. “You didn’t kill them, Y/N. The zombies did.”

“See, I know that.” You stare at your hands, the smile wiped from your lips. “Logically. But –”

“Your brain won’t let you,” Sungyoon finishes. “Yeah, I know. It’s the same with me and… you know.” He leans forward, fixing your gaze with his. “So I’ll keep saying it until your brain finally figures it out. Okay?”

The tears try to come again, but this time, you hold them back. “Same for you,” you manage, hoping the wobble in your voice isn’t as prominent as it feels to you. “It wasn’t your fault. It never was. And I’ll keep saying that until you know it too.”

Sungyoon turns away. You don’t try to follow his gaze, to probe at his expression. You don’t need to.

It’s enough, this understanding that hangs quiet in the air.

. . . . .

On week three, when Sungyoon’s finally started to limp around the house, Lady Luck puts you in her good graces and you find a source of transportation far better than your legs. You don’t thank her too much, though, since you literally found the two bikes after being chased twice around the same building by a small, though vicious group of zombies.

Even then, a little bit of excitement sparks in your still-racing heart when you pedal up to the front of the house and dump the first bike indoors. Sungyoon pokes his head out through the bedroom at your call.

You grin. “Remember how to ride a bike?”

It takes a second dangerous trip to bring the other one back but you manage, since Sungyoon is still slow on his feet. When Sungyoon feels ready to try it out, you watch closely as he slings himself onto the cracked seat, ready to catch him if he falls.

He does, twice. But the third time, he actually starts wobbling up and down the front of the house, pedaling slowly but steadily.

A cry almost escapes your throat when he turns around on the street, pedaling back with sparkling eyes and lips curving in a rare smile of success. But though you stifle the sound, you can’t help but run up and hug him when he dismounts, one hand holding the bike steady as you wrap the other around his chest.

Sungyoon’s breath catches. The little gasp in his throat reminds you of what you’re doing, that he might be uncomfortable, and you go to apologize and pull away, insides curdling with embarrassment.

But then he wraps both of his arms around you, bringing you in closer with a gentle, uncertain grip, hands locked loosely at your waist. And it’s your turn to catch your breath at the subtle warmth of Sungyoon’s thin body, a warmth more comforting than even the rays of afternoon sun beginning to set in the sky.

Human touch. Human comfort. Human warmth. You bury yourself in Sungyoon and he buries himself in you, earlier excitement forgotten in favor of the comforting warmth of the other’s touch.

You don’t say anything about it, even after you let go. You only part naturally, smiling at each other as your arms fall to your sides before finally reentering the house. Sungyoon goes back to lying on the little couch, resting his leg, while you carefully stand the bike by the door and go to find something to eat. Conversation is quiet. Not awkward, not stilted, just quiet. You still don’t mention the hug.

But later that night, after you’ve barricaded the door and freshened up as best you can, Sungyoon is still sitting up in the bedroom. You pause in the doorway. “Sungyoon?”

“It isn’t comfortable on the floor, is it?” he asks, voice strangely stilted. He doesn’t wait for an answer before rushing on. “Come up here. It’ll be easier on your back.”

It takes several moments to process his words before you start protesting, saying the floor isn’t that bad and that you read something about how sleeping on hard surfaces is actually better for your back, but your voice dies away when Sungyoon holds out his arms in the dark, shifting to make room for you on the threadbare mattress.

Something about this feels like it should be wrong. Taking comfort in someone who isn’t Daeyeol or your mom or even one of the friends you left behind, probably never to see any of them ever again. You’ve only known Sungyoon for a matter of weeks. Daeyeol you knew for over twenty years. Your mom, even longer.

And now you’re taking comfort in someone when none of them are around to experience it themselves. Guilt simmers in your chest.

But walking into Sungyoon’s arms sweeps it away.

His touch is just as soft and unsure as it was earlier under the afternoon sun, but if anything, it feels warmer in the dark. And as you gain a little courage, letting him curl closer into you as your breaths begin to even from exhaustion, the touch becomes a little more certain, a little firmer and stronger as he loosens against your body.

One brave hand reaches up, tangles briefly through Sungyoon’s hair. “Goodnight,” you whisper.

He squeezes you once, gently. “Goodnight.”

. . . . .

The fourth week has passed by the time Sungyoon walks without a limp. You really would have wanted to go the first day he could put weight on his leg, but if you had, you wouldn’t have found the bikes. And considering the fact that you only have two bullets left, you’re thankful for a method of quick escape.

“We need to get out of the city,” you say, swinging one leg over your bike. “There are too many zombies here. Just follow me, I think I’ve mapped out how to get to the highway. It’ll probably be smoother from there.”

Sungyoon nods. “Let’s go, then.”

Your heart pounds as you pedal down the streets, quickly, quietly. The rusty bikes creak a little under your weight and with every weird noise you tense, pedaling faster, but street after street, you and Sungyoon ride without too much trouble.

Until you turn a corner and the faint sound of dead groans echoes from farther down the street.

Both of you stop. Sungyoon looks over. “Is there another way?”

“I mean, probably.” You swallow. “But they’re in the direction of the highway and regardless, we’ll have to go past. I don’t… I’m not sure…”

The groans grow louder.

“Let’s see if we can loop around,” you decide, trying to picture the general layout of buildings. “Just… be ready to ride fast.”

Sungyoon almost smirks. “That wasn’t a given?”

You hit him, even as you stifle a smile. But that smile disappears quickly as you ride closer and closer to the sounds of groans.

The first zombie lurches out from behind a collapsed home. It stumbles over the sidewalk, clawing forward, but you and Sungyoon move too fast and leave it quickly behind.

But then a second pops out in the distance. And a third.

Behind you, Sungyoon mutters a curse. You don’t blame him. Much worse words are running through your mind. “Through the cars,” you hiss, weaving between several vehicles stranded on the road. “Harder for them to get us.”

The sound of limbs slapping against metal and glass makes you want to hurl. Groans and shrieks echo off the sides of the cars, overpowering the creaking of your bike and filling your ears with their sickening sound. You pedal fast, fast, faster, swerving between a last car into open road –

Sungyoon races past, surpassing you as a zombie just misses grabbing the wheel of his bike. You pedal harder to catch up, staring straight ahead towards the entrance of the highway that’s finally in sight.

Something brushes your arm. You shriek, almost tipping off balance as dead white fingers flash in your peripherals, but a backwards glance from Sungyoon forces you to stay upright and you pedal forward with a last rush of speed, rolling onto a smooth, zombie-free road.

You ride for what feels like hours until you have to call it quits. Stumbling behind an abandoned truck, you collapse in the shade, legs shaking with exertion and adrenaline. Sungyoon follows quickly, dropping his bike onto the asphalt to sit next to you.

For a moment, you only sit in silence, panting under the hot sun.

Then you heave a shaky breath and start to laugh.

It starts out as a gasp, really. That first breath doesn’t fully go out the way you want it to and you wheeze a gasp, then another, and another and another until your wheezes turn into breathless laughter that treads the line of hysteria but then Sungyoon is starting to laugh too and all you can do is revel in the fact that you can laugh, snort, giggle because you’re alive. You made it out of that infested city alive, alive despite that horde at the end, and God, now you’re trembling because even though you’ve had close encounters with the undead before, you can still feel cold, peeling skin just dragging against your shirt –

You start crying.

Adrenaline seeps out of your body like blood from a wound. Your stomach hurts from laughing. Your eyes ache with tears. You keep feeling that feather light, deathly cold touch brushing your arm, almost like a wisp of wind curling against your skin but so much colder, like ice freezing your veins even under the burning sun.

Cold. Cold. Cold. And no one, not Daeyeol, not your mother, no one to help you out of this icy sun –

Sungyoon’s shaking arms wrap around you, and you remember what it feels like to be warm again.

You grip him tight, tight, tighter, holding onto this last piece of human life. Everyone else you know is dead or probably dead and only Sungyoon is a constant, still here and alive despite the fact that you could’ve split up all those weeks ago.

Until the day you die, you’ll be grateful you chose not to.

He holds you and you hold him until both of you finally stop trembling in the hot shade of the truck, but even then, you latch on just a little bit longer, memorizing the weight of his thin body pressed against yours. Hunger has hollowed his skin and yours, eaten away the muscle that used to cushion your bones, but Sungyoon’s arms still hold a fragile strength that slowly bleeds into you, giving you the courage to wipe away the tears.

That night, after hours of riding on quiet roads, no silent, tentative question hangs in the air like it always has when Sungyoon slumps against your sitting figure, head falling into your lap as you fight to keep your eyes open for first watch. Without hesitation, you tangle your fingers through his curly hair, soothing him into sleep.

Sungyoon is your warmth, just as you are his. Reminders to each other that even in this blackened world of death and ashes, both of you are still alive.

. . . . .

The closer you get to home, the harder sleep comes. You don’t know why. It should be the opposite, right? You’re closer to your goal. Closer to your mom.

But that also means you’re closer to uncertainty. Closer to the Schrodinger’s cat-type limbo where you don’t know whether or not your mom is still alive. Only with Schrodinger’s cat, there’s an exactly fifty percent chance that the animal is dead. Or so you think. It’s been some time since you had time to think about quantum mechanics.

Doesn’t matter. Odds are now, the scale’s been tipped a little further in that direction. 

You don’t know what you’ll do if she’s dead.

Scratch that. You kind of know what you’ll do. Scream. Cry, probably. Either that or just go silent.

You don’t know what you’ll do if she’s just disappeared.

Because then there’s Schrodinger’s cat again, constantly hovering between life and death. Knowing at least gives you facts – you’ll be certain as to whether she’s dead or alive.

Not knowing will rip you apart.

Sungyoon decides it’s enough when you wake up the third time during his second watch, chest heaving from nightmares where you return home alone and there’s no one. Not him, not your mom, not even a single zombie. There’s no blood on the floor or anything to indicate struggle. The house is perfect, just as you left it when you went back to university the last time.

But it’s empty. Cold.

And only silence answers your calls.

“Okay, that’s it.” Sungyoon’s tone is softer than his sharp words. He gently grips your shoulders, pulling you up in the darkness. “What’s wrong? What are you dreaming of?”

You shiver even in his hold, remembering the chill of the empty house, the choking silence that greeted your calls. How do you begin to describe that, the fear of not knowing whether or not your mother is alive?

Then it hits you.

Sungyoon will understand. He has to. He walked back to a zombie infested city on an injured leg to find his sister and her boyfriend, Sumin and Bomin, all the while not knowing if they were alive or dead.

“What if she’s not there?”

His grip slackens. “What?”

You swallow. “What if my mom isn’t there?”

For a long moment, both of you stay silent. In the dark, you can’t even make out the expression on Sungyoon’s face.

“I don’t know,” he finally replies. “What will you do?”

Fear ices your throat. You can’t speak. What will you do? If it turns out you came all this way, across an entire country, for nothing?

“What did you do?” you manage once it feels like your vocal cords have thawed. “When you went back and…?” A wince of guilt and shame keeps you from saying more.

Sungyoon falls quiet. You recognize this silence not as brooding, not as angry, but thinking. Contemplative. It eases the tightness in your chest.

“It felt like everything was lost to me,” he finally says. “They were all I had left. When it finally hit me that they were gone…” He shakes his head. “But that’s not what you meant, right? You’re asking about before. When I didn’t know.”

You nod, curling closer into him. “Yeah.”

“I don’t know,” Sungyoon says. “Honestly, I don’t know how I dealt with it. All I know is that it was eating at me so much that I had to go back and find out myself. So I was an idiot.”

There’s a little smile in his voice, a twitch of the lips that you can hear in his last few words. Your mouth almost curves, too. “But what if we go back and I still don’t know?” you ask. “What if she’s just… gone?”

“It’ll be your choice whether or not you want to leave it at that or keep looking,” Sungyoon answers after a pause. “I can’t make the decision for you. But…”

You look up. “But?”

“You know what kept me going after all of that?” He doesn’t wait for a reply. “The fact that you offered to let me come with you, despite what had happened. It was the fact that someone, more or less a stranger, gave me a place with them.”

“Really? I honestly thought you were going to laugh in my face as soon as I said it,” you admit. “I’d just… done that, and a few hours later, I was asking you to walk across an entire country with me.” You wince. “Not exactly bonding material.”

“I won’t lie, I kind of considered it.” Sungyoon seems to shrug in the darkness. “But even then, I knew you weren’t evil, regardless of what happened. You still lost a friend. You were still trying to stay alive. And when you talked about your mom…” He sighs. “What I’m saying is you were there for me, Y/N.” His grip on your hand tightens softly. “And whatever happens when we get to your home, I’ll still be there for you.”

The lump in your throat refuses to let you speak, so you only sink further into Sungyoon’s body, trying to hold back the tears threatening to escape your eyes. He seems to understand. His fingers rise and card through your hair, stroking smooth against your scalp.

If this is how Daeyeol felt every time you did this when he was sick, you now understand why he asked for head pats whenever he wasn’t doing well. It soothes you, even if one or two tears do make their way down your face at the thought of your best friend.

Fuck. You close your eyes. Daeyeol would have found a good friend in Sungyoon, you’re sure. Your mom would probably love him too. More than anything, you wish they were here.

But you still have someone. You have Sungyoon. You have someone you trust, someone you rely on, someone you can hold close at times like this when you start to spiral and can’t force yourself out of your mind.

You’d like to say that Sungyoon feels the same.

“Is that okay?” Sungyoon asks softly, breaking into your thoughts. His fingers keep stroking your hair gently, softly.

Your eyes are starting to close again, weighed down by sleep. Nightmares might be waiting, but Sungyoon’s words and warmth make you think they might stay at bay. You nod against his chest. “Yes,” you murmur. “More than okay.”

“Good.” His hands don’t stop. “Now sleep. There are only a few hours before dawn.”

You don’t need to be told twice, only curl further into him and shut your eyes. As sleep finally begins to roll over you in waves, you sigh. “Thank you,” you whisper.

His breath stirs your hair. “For what?”

A small smile curves your lips.

“For being here.”

. . . . .

The buildings start looking familiar two weeks and five zombie attacks later. There are more undead here, probably because you’re closer to the site of the explosion. Even though you’re still several states away, the virus spread more quickly here than on the other side of the country.

At some point after the third attack, you try to apologize while patching up several scrapes on Sungyoon’s arms. There isn’t even time to stay – you need to keep riding, find a place to take shelter for the night before zombies find you. He doesn’t deserve this.

“You don’t either,” he points out. “Neither of us ever deserved this.”

“But I have to deal with it to get home. You don’t.”

“And I signed up for the ride.” Sungyoon pats a bandage more firmly in place before taking your outstretched hand and standing up. He squeezes your fingers. “Come on, let’s get moving.”

Your heart pounds painfully as you ride down the last stretch of highway, faded signs bearing the name of your hometown. Everything almost looks the same, if you ignore the dried blood spattered along the sidewalks and panes of shattered glass on the streets.

And the zombies milling about at the base of the exit.

Sungyoon stops when you do, frowning when he sees the faint outlines of white skin and blackened veins. “Great.”

You snort, hysteria building in your throat. “Great” is the perfect way to put it. So close, yet so far – separated from your home by a throng of the undead.

There are only a few right now. From here, up on the highway, you can only count four or five. Zombies don’t move fast and if it’s just those few, you could probably outstrip them.

But they’re definitely not the only ones. And you have no way of knowing just how many are left in the city.

Think, think, think! You hit your head lightly. You grew up here, explored the entire city, walked all the roads by the time you went off to college the first time. Even though things have probably changed, they can’t be too drastically different. Any small nooks, any back roads or alleys you can find where zombies aren’t likely to be…

“What do you think will be more zombie infested?” you ask. “Residential roads or the actual city?”

“… City,” Sungyoon says. “More densely packed people, right?”

You bite your lip. He’s right. The highway leads to a road that cuts straight through the middle of the city and it would probably be faster to follow it straight down and just make a few appropriate turns before reaching your home, but it’ll probably be safer to take the longer local path.

Local it is. God, you hope your sense of direction is as good as it used to be.

“We’re going straight down now before more zombies come,” you say, swinging a leg over your bike. “As fast as you can. We turn left at that first traffic light and then be ready to follow me.”

The downward slope of the highway gives you a burst of speed you dearly need once you reach the road. You speed past abandoned cars and several milling zombies that turn to give chase, but you and Sungyoon are already turning left, racing down a street of empty shops and cafes. You used to hang out there with Daeyeol and a few of your friends before –

Not the time. You pedal faster. The groans of chasing zombies has grown fainter, which is good, but there are definitely more.

As if on cue, several sets of gangly, white limbs pop out from behind a building, lurching towards Sungyoon’s bike. He swerves around a car and you grit your teeth to avoid crying out. “Keep going!” you shout, pedaling faster. Faster.

Street signs whiz past. You almost miss the first turn, jerking sharply to the right at the last minute. Sungyoon curses and you look back but he’s following, still following, weaving around zombies and cars as he keeps racing forward.

Right. Left. Straight. Left. More zombies join the chase, relentless even as you and Sungyoon leave them behind, legs straining to keep the speed. 

Left, left, straight. Pedaling uphill is a pain. Your thighs burn and your chest aches but then you’re rolling downhill and you catch your breath before straining once more.

Straight. Right. Right. Left. You pass by your old high school, grass trampled and overgrown in the front.

Left, right. You race down a street lined with houses you used to envy – if you lived closer to school, you wouldn’t have had to get up early for the bus every morning.

Straight. You pedal past a small plaza. Clubs used to congregate in the restaurants for end of year celebrations. It’s where you went with your friends on the last day of high school and where you had dinner with your mom the next day after graduation.

Mom. Mom. You go right, then left, racing past aching memories, all the while conscious of zombies groaning in the background and Sungyoon panting by your side. Mom, I’m almost there. Almost home.

Please be there.

The last street comes into sight. You swing around a last building and a last car, finding yourself on a familiar street that you haven’t seen in years. You pedal slower, slower, until you stop in front of your house.

Memories almost paralyze you. This was where you met Daeyeol when he first moved in. This was where you almost got hit by a speeding car when you were out playing as a child. This was where you walked from every day to the bus stop for over five years to get to school –

Sungyoon grabs your wrist, glancing behind. Already, the sound of groans is growing louder. “Is this it?” he asks, nodding at the front door.

“Yeah,” you breathe. You squeeze your eyes shut, shake yourself out of your daze. “Yeah. Come on.”

With each step forward, you feel like you’re walking back in time. You grow younger and younger, smaller and smaller, until you’re finally pulling out the house key you’ve kept in your bag for so long, waiting for this moment –

You stop, key held uselessly between your fingers as you take in the scuff marks around the doorknob and the lock.

The door has already been forced open at least once.

Sungyoon notices the marks, notices your silence. He pulls open the door anyway and shoves you inside, slamming it shut behind you.

He plucks the key from your hand. Locks the door with a faint, familiar click. 

You look around in a daze, taking in overturned furniture, books and magazines strewn over the floor, cabinets left open from what you can see in the kitchen. Clouds of dust spring up where you step.

You sneeze. The sound brings you back to the present.

Your home has been ransacked. Someone broke in and took what they thought was worth taking, leaving behind furniture and books and the piano standing against the wall. Someone broke in and either spared your mother or killed her –

Or she wasn’t there in the first place.

You can feel Sungyoon’s eyes following your movements as you step forward, slow and cautious. Dust itches your throat and burns your eyes but you keep moving, surveying the damage. “Mom?”

There’s no sign of human life. Not a footprint in the dust, not a handprint on the wall. But there’s also no blood. No sign of struggle.

So where is she?

“Mom?”

Panic seizes your chest and you walk forward faster, looking into the kitchen as if she’ll be hiding somewhere there. When she doesn’t appear, you turn into the bathroom, the bedrooms, but only a mess of dust and objects meets your eyes. “Mom?”

No one replies.

She’s not here.

You try to reason it away. Maybe she’s out looking for food. Maybe she’s hiding. But you don’t have a basement or second floor so there’s nowhere she could be, and why would she be hiding, anyway? As for food…

Dust comes away on your fingertips as you drag them along the floor. Somewhere along the way, you sank down against the wall, alone in the hallway. Bits of dust rise with every breath you take.

If she was just looking for food, the house would still appear lived in. There wouldn’t be so much dust and dirt everywhere.

But she might have had to leave when people broke into the house. Right?

Or not. You swallow, tears starting to flow down your face. There was no sign of struggle, no blood or cracks in the wall. Just overturned furniture, probably from someone’s careless movements while looking for necessities.

Which means she isn’t here.

Not here. Not here. Not here not here not here not here – you came all this way and survived so many attacks and even lost Daeyeol and she’s not here –

And –

Daeyeol –

A cracked, broken sound emerges from your throat and your pounding head falls into your hands. You came this whole way and watched Daeyeol shoot himself just to find the dusty, empty house from your nightmares –

“Y/N.”

You turn your head to see Sungyoon in the hallway, holding a piece of paper in one hand. His face is pale.

He holds out the paper before you can work through the lump in your throat to ask what’s wrong. “I think you should read this.”

. . . . .

It’s long past dark and you still can’t sleep. Sungyoon drifted off about an hour ago, but even though you lie under the same sheet next to him on the floor, not even his warmth can lull you into dreamland this time.

Well. Probably more like nightmare land. The piece of paper crinkles in your hand, as if to remind you of what you’ve lost.

You try to close your eyes against the words that seem to flash in your vision. No use. They’ve tattooed themselves to the backs of your eyelids, trembling letters written in your mother’s familiar scrawl…

Y/N, if you’re reading this, I’m sorry. I’m most likely dead.

Why did she feel the need to apologize for being dead? If anything, it’s your fault for not getting here fast enough.

Of course, there is the chance that I’m just out looking for food and will come back soon, but if I’m not home by night, it isn’t likely.

Night has gone and passed. It’s probably closer to morning.

Every time I leave the house, I put out this note. That way, in case you manage to find your way back, you’ll have this much left from me.

Tears start to build up again behind your still puffy eyes.

I heard you on that phone call. I knew you would come back or at least die trying. Because that’s who you are, Y/N, my strong, darling child. Brave to the last.

Brave. Ha. If only she knew how much you relied on others to keep you sane. First Daeyeol, then Sungyoon…

I miss you. Every day I miss you. But I have hope that you will come home one day, return to this house, even if I’m not there to welcome you.

She wasn’t.

If you are reading this note and I am not there, don’t blame yourself. It isn’t your fault. Nothing is certain, especially not our lives, not mine, not yours. If it was my time, then it was my time. Don’t hurt yourself, thinking you should have gotten here before.

But you could have. Maybe you should have. Sungyoon certainly thought so, judging from his silence as you read the note. He read it too, before you, and you know he was thinking you should have left him and his fractured leg back at that house in the city infested with zombies, left him and come back four weeks earlier to hopefully find your mother, alive and whole –

You don’t think you could’ve chosen differently, though. Sungyoon was there, right in front of you, injured and broken and you couldn’t just leave him behind. Even if your mother had still been here then (which you don’t think she was – the thick layer of dust all over the house speaks of over a month of disuse), would you even have made it back? Or, alone, would you have fallen to the trap of your own mind?

And even if you had returned in time, how would she have thought of you, knowing you left an injured person behind? You wouldn’t have been able to keep it from her. It would’ve spilled out, sometime.

Your heart clenches. Even though there logically wasn’t much you could do, it still hurts to think that you might’ve had a last chance to see her before she went.

Always remember that I love you, Y/N. You have always been the pride of my life. You are strong and brave, and if anyone is to survive this disaster, I pray it is you, both as my child and as a ray of hope for the future. We know something like this can’t happen again. I know you. I know you will help prevent it.

The tears start to spill. Again.

I love you. I miss you. I hope I will see you soon, but not before it is truly your time.

- Your loving mother

Tears fall harder, faster. You turn, pulling yourself out of the blanket so you won’t wake Sungyoon, and sit there, shaking with silent sobs.

I love you too. And I miss you even more.

You have little left of your mother but this note. All her clothes were taken from her room, the sheets of her bed pulled away, even her toolbox laid empty. Trinkets from shelves and tables lay smashed on the floor, fallen from careless searching. A few framed pictures survived. Little more. You don’t even have her body – you can’t even bury her, your mom, your hero, you can’t even give her the same respects you paid Daeyeol –

Your watery eyes light on the shadow of the piano, hidden in the darkness. The lid covering the keys is still closed, protecting them from dust, just the way you left it when you went back to university.

As if in a trance, you stand, walking towards the piano and settling on the dusty bench. You haven’t grown in the years since you’ve been at school and it’s still pulled the same distance back, leaving just enough space for you to stretch your hands out on the keys once you’ve lifted the lid. Dust billows and you cough, batting it away, but you put your hands back on the keyboard.

And begin to play.

It’s your mother’s favorite piece, a sonata’s slow second movement that she said never failed to calm her after a long day. But you don’t play it well – your fingers slip. You don’t remember all the notes. Rhythms are wrong, the melodies stilted, and you stop playing, resting your elbows on the edge of the instrument as you grind the heels of your palms into your eyes, tears beginning to pound once more. You couldn’t bury her so you thought you could give her a little music, but holy fuck, you can’t even properly give this tribute because you can’t play the fucking piece –

Sungyoon sits on the edge of the bench. You jump – you never realized he was awake, and you open your mouth to apologize for waking him up – but he just looks at you with a softness you can feel even in the dark. “Keep playing.”

Fingers trembling, you put them back on the keyboard. It doesn’t get better – missed notes and wrong rhythms still plague the piece – but Sungyoon nudges you every time you falter, pushing you to finish. And when you do, tears falling to the dust onto your lap, he pulls you over and wraps an arm around you, letting your head fall to his shoulder as you cry.

He holds you until the sun rises and you finally fall asleep.

. . . . .

As much as you want to leave as soon as you wake, you stay at home another day. Both of you need a break before you keep going west, now that there’s no time crunch, and there don’t seem to be many zombies walking up and down the street. As long as you and Sungyoon keep the window blinds shut, you consider yourself about as safe as you can get.

The security helps a little. Takes away a bit of anxiety. But wherever you go, no matter how messy the rooms are, you always know that you’re in the same house you grew up in. Just with the most important people of your childhood missing.

But Sungyoon is important, and Sungyoon is here. It helps, a little. Though when you find him staring at the few family photos left on a table, photos with you and your mother and one even with Daeyeol’s family, you have to leave the room because it just reminds you that Sungyoon lost everyone and has little beyond his sister’s earrings, as far as you know, to remember them by. And he had to take them from her body, when in any other “normal” situation of death he would’ve left them in for her burial…

Sungyoon cried over the earrings several weeks ago. Just looking at the pictures, comparing the memories they hold to two little gold hoops that can’t even fit around Sungyoon’s fifth finger, almost makes you want to smash the frames to the ground.

You almost don’t take them with you. It’s only when Sungyoon holds out the thin frames that you remember them, two-dimensional faces of people you lost, smiling with a joy that you don’t think you’ll feel ever again.

“You’ll want them,” Sungyoon says quietly. “It hurts now, but you will. Trust me.”

The weight behind his words convinces you.

In the end, you put them in your bag, stuffing your mother’s note into one of the frames. Sungyoon helps you cushion them with your spare clothes. When you’ve finally packed them away, you walk with him to the front of the house before hesitating in the doorway.

Sungyoon glances at you. “Ready?”

You don’t turn around, but you let your eyes wander over what of the living room you can see from here. You’ve left this house many times, both times when you went to university and every time you left after a break, but you always came back. Even when everything happened, you came back. You still came back.

This time, you don’t think you’ll ever return.

“Y/N?”

You hear Sungyoon, but you still say nothing, riveting your gaze to the door. Once you leave this house, you won’t come back. You can’t even hope for it.

But you think it’ll be okay, because home isn’t just a place. It’s with people, too. And though you will never forget your original home with your mom and Daeyeol, you think you’ve found the beginnings of another home with Sungyoon.

You take Sungyoon’s hand, tangle your fingers through his. He looks at you with some concern but you don’t look back, just blink your eyes and take a breath.

You’re leaving your original home for a less certain one, a home bound solely in human attachment without the solid root of a house. It’s a little tenuous, a little shaky, but with your hands joined like this, you think there’s a possibility things might be okay.

It’s a chance you’re willing to take.

“Yeah.” You finally look up, squeezing his fingers once. You twist the doorknob. “Let’s go.”

If you enjoyed, please don’t forget to reblog and leave a comment to tell me what you thought! Thank you for reading and have a lovely day <3

(1 reblog = 1 prayer for a certain two characters to stay alive)

[novellenight]

Hii I have couple of questions for you so hope you don't mind! ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ♡

1) What gojohime moment made you think "lol hello a new ship"?

2) Is Gojo aware of how his behavior affects others?

3) How do you think Utahime's cursed technique works? It's related to singing but still, how do you think it works?

4) When they go out together (Shoko, Utahime, Mei Mei, Yuki, Gojo, Nanami, Kusakabe and Kiyotaka) what are they likely to do at karaoke night?

5) Gojo sees Utahime grumpy most of the time so when he saw her happy and enthusiastic ab baseball game what was his reaction?

6) There's audio drama where Gojo goes to maid cafe which is probably 18+ rated bc Yuji got embarrassed when he read the sign. Now imagine Utahime finding him leaving at the doors. Her reaction?

7) Do you think Utahime ever helped 'babysitting' Megumi and Tsumiki but the kids don't remember? This day gojohime parenting dynamic evolved. How are they functioning as a 'family'?

8) Geto, Shoko, Gojo and Utahime play party games. Of course Geto is the one who knows Gojo the most since they're best friends but how is Utahime doing when it comes to knowing him and vice versa? Bc if they notice things about each other that no one else does they'd probably get teased for it. 😂

9) Was Gojo ever jealous of Kusakabe and Utahime being friendly?

10) Your opinion- does Gojo sleep around or is he secretly a virgin? 🙈

11) If there's a reason for both of them getting angry at each other (yea even Gojo which is hard to imagine) what would it be?

12) Gojo thought beforehand "We never know what might be listening around Utahime, after all. I don't want to think about one of the students being the traitor. This is such a pain." and Utahime cares a lot ab her students, she sounded like such a mom in ep21 haha "For now, let's be glad our students are safe." 🥰 But yea, turns out Mechamaru was the traitor. She must have felt rly bad yk. So what do you think? Did Gojo comfort her in a way?

13) Your theory- how did Utahime get her scar?

14) Do Shoko and Utahime talk ab boys at sleepovers? 👀

15) Yk, it would be rly hypocritical if Gojo slept around while Utahime became let's say 'closer' to Kusakabe for instance and Gojo became jealous bc he doesn't have any right to meddle in other people's business. What would he do to prove that he's better? Would he give up on something? Would he be able to change for her?

1) When I saw a manga panel of them and an artist’s drawing of Gojo touching Uta’s scar. I still remember it vividly until today, and now look where I am. :) 

2.) According to Gege, no. But according to me, he knows but does not awknowledged it. Gojo afterall grew up for himself as the strongest, so it might be hard for him to empathize in some stuff like Yuji does. 3.) I imagine she can summon contracted shaman spirits when she preforms miko ceremonies with her singing. There’s a lot of theory in this, but I would like to think she’s good in sealing techniques. She uses performs ceremonies to trap curses and finish them off with her voice. It’s a mixture of Toge’s CT and shaman ceremonies for exorcism.  4.) The ones who drinks tries to get themselve drunk because of Gojo. Gojo would probably do that with a parfait in hand. Lucky paintbrush.  5.) He’s in love and tries to keep that goofy smile of his but fails. 6.) Utahime would probably pretend that she doesn’t know him. She’s mature, so maybe she’ll not judge him, its his life. But it doesn’t stop fanfictions of her getting slightly hurt and jealous, heheheh.  7.) Utahime is mom, Gojo is brat 1, and the kids are angels. As much as Gojo tries to become a ‘father’ he ends up as the real baby. Tsumiki is close to both of them and finds Gojo funny, while Megumi favors Utahime more. I love this family trope.  8.) Utahime would wing everything about Gojo being annoying. However, she’ll also be suprised from time to time with new information of Gojo. It shows that he’s also still human despite his ‘god-like facade’ and she appreciates that. He’s still a jerk tho.  9.) Why do you think Kusakabe was in the Tokyo School in the first place? It’s because Gojo refuses to let him come near Utahime. So Gojo is stuck with the swordsman and annoys him daily to keep an eye on him. XD 10.) According to some Gege said he’s a manwhore. But there are also diferrent ways how to interpret the translations. For me, he can be both either way. BUT I KNOW UTAHIME WILL BE HIS LAST AND INFINTY.  11.) Gojo not being able to protect Utahime. While Utahime believes she doesn’t need his help.  12.) Maybe he did. It’s normal in their line of work to be betrayed, and I think Utahime already steeled her heart and Gojo’s aware of it. She’s a sorcerer for a long time now, and  it means, she’s also crazy in some way. Her menatlity is just that strong. Cue the Train Scene of her being professional.  13.) When she was going to be promoted as a grade one sorcerer.  14.) Interesting... They’d talk about men but ends up complaining about Gojo (just Uta while Shoko half-listens and remembers Geto). 15.) Is this going to  be a fic? Lol, Gojo in some way is hyprocital. Everyone is. He can change if he wants to, starting by make amends and trying to act as just “Satoru Gojo”, not with all those strongest speech of his. Once Utahime would notice this (she does already) and the rest, you can say he’s changed for the better. BUT IMAGINE THE DRAMA IN A FIC ABOUT THIS. HAHAHAHAH  Thank you for asking, I loved answering this hehehe. I hope you got the answers you want to hear. <3