#yes I know they are friendly and generally harmless and just want love and attention

[staryuee]

— a lifetime of love awaits, will you marry me?

꒰warnings꒱ {edit} I HAD TO ADD SCARA OKAY

⠀꒲ ` synopsis . . . how would they propose to their beloved?

⠀꒲ ` characters . . . tartaglia, venti, eula, kazuha, yoimiya, kaeya, ayato, zhongli, scaramouche

⠀꒲ ` notes . . . FINALLY IM FREE FROM THESE CHAINS !! lana can finally stop bullying me :( — this won’t be the end, i’m planning to write wedding/marriage hcs w these lot too ♪( ´▽｀)

TARTAGLIA — 公子

when did he realise he wants to marry you?

ajax realised when you came over to see his family for the second time. the way his siblings rushed over to greet you, each of them stumbling around because they want to be the first one to hug you, your bright yet gentle smile as you squeezed each of them tightly and peppered their faces with kisses — it all sent the most electrifying butterflies to his stomach. seeing the way you handle his energetic siblings and the way his parents have clearly welcomed you in as part of the family, it really made him think “i want to be with you forever.”

did he nearly reveal his plans by accident?

he’s a fearsome fatui harbinger, do you really think something as special and important like this will easily slip out? yes, absolutely. he cannot for the love of the tsaritsa herself shut the fuck up. he’s obviously already talked to your family and some friends of yours he knew he could trust but at this point everyone practically knows his plan with how much he’s been talking about you. honestly, speaking to yours and his family was his first step — he just wanted to make sure he had their blessings!! (as cliche as that sounds). with how overly-nice and generous people have been to you, you were starting to garner suspicions however tartaglia always has his special ways of distracting you~

꒰ TARTAGLIA’S PROPOSAL ꒱

you’ve just finished a lovely dinner with tartaglia’s family, his siblings were surrounding you two near a fireplace, the snezhnayan winter was being extremely unforgiving that particular evening with snow pouring down onto the ground, creating a massive winter wonderland. “did you know, [name] took me around liyue harbour again!!” teucer jumped onto your lap holding his lil’ ruin guard ehem ‘cyclops’ plushie in his hand, his bright eyes shining with delight. “alright, alright now teucer, i’m sure ajax and [name] are very tired from their journey and don’t want you jumping around on them. why don’t we all take a nice little breather outside?“ tartaglia’s mom intervenes, gesturing to the rack of coats.

snezhnayan winters were absolutely breathtaking, despite the snow engulfing you in cold, the pure sight of the kids playing and building their cute lil’ snowmen was enough to warm you inside and out. of course ajax didn’t get the atmosphere as he decided to come up and put his cold ass hands on your cheeks. “ajax!!! you absolute bi-“ you squealed as a shiver went down your spine. honestly you couldn’t get angry at him with the way his smile and laughter made you completely forget yourself. however, that didn’t make you want revenge any less. therefore !! you decided to start a harmless snowball fight with him.

while you and tartaglia were having a not-so friendly snowball fight, tonia finds a way to sneak up behind you and tug on your coat for attention and so, being the sweet person you are, you looked down at her… which ended up with you getting hit in the face with a snowball and ajax laughing it off by giving you small kisses. “sorry [name], uhm i just wanted to show you our snowmen! we just finished (｡･ω･｡)” she smiled up at you. god you felt your heart absolutely explode that snowball meaning absolutely nothing to you at that moment. taking her hand into yours she leads you to the place her and her siblings built the snowmen.

and who would’ve thought the little angels built the snowmen to resemble you and ajax <3 they had a small pebble heart around it with some local snezhnayan flowers scattered about and … some carving in the snow which read “turn around :)” as you did, your eyes instantly brimmed with heated tears. ajax was down on one knee, a beautiful ring imbedded with the finest jade in one hand while his other one reached out for yours.

“i love you with my entire heart and i wish to spend my entire life with you, [name], will you marry me?”

VENTI — 温迪

when did they realise they want to marry you?

better question: when did he NOT think about marrying you? it’s impossible to pinpoint just a specific moment where he thought about putting a ring on your finger. everyday he’s latched onto you like a personal heating pack whether that’s just him holding your hand, kissing you, hugging you etc he always has some part of him touching you. therefore, one of the more prominent times where he thinks of marrying you is when his heart actively yearns for you during the times you’re apart from one another. they do say “absence makes the heart grow fonder” and well venti takes that to the extreme.

did they nearly reveal their plans by accident?

venti is an ancient beloved god, he has absolutely no problem keeping his plan a secret from you! well, perhaps he can keep it from you verbally, ehem minus the few minor slip ups, he does make it quite obvious at times when he starts playing with your hands more often or stops frequenting the tavern to “focus on something more important” - his words not mine. he definitely tries his best, and to be fair he absolutely succeeds given with how loud and talkative he is you’d think he’d let it out eventually however, he wants this to be a complete surprise :)

꒰ VENTI’S PROPOSAL ꒱

the unfortunate ending of the weinlesefest was drawing nearer, yet the abundant love - platonic, familial and romantic - was filling the air with a sweetened fragrance. or perhaps that was just the scent of your boyfriend who had downed a couple bottles of diluc’s finest wine earlier that day. either way, your heart was brimming with everlasting joy.

venti held your waist with one hand, while his other hand rested on the top of your head to push you ever so closely. starsnatch cliff was the perfect place to wind down at , nothing but the tender autumn breeze and the silent brushing of the grass against you while you stared up at the glowing sky. although the day seemed to be perfect, you suddenly remembered that venti looked somewhat worried all day - consistently looking nervous and pondering over things that you couldn’t quite decipher.

you gently pushed yourself off venti and he gave you a perplexed look, “what’s the matter, windblume?” you just took him by his hands and told him to take a few deep breaths and appreciate the scenery. “venven, you looked so stressed the entire day, whats been on your mind?” he took a small step back from you and averted his gaze, subconsciously starting to fiddle with his braid.

taking a final deep breath, he looks you in the eyes cups your cheek and gives you a gentle smile. “mh, guess theres nothing i can hide from you is there, my warrior?” he takes his hands into yours.

“you know that i love you more than words can describe, you’ve changed my heart and life for the better and whenever im without you it feels like i've lost a part of myself. i’ve seen your kindness and your strength, as well as your fears and sorrows. you are the love of my life, i cannot imagine a life without you. i could tell you i can’t love you more than i do now, but i know tomorrow i will even more. my heart sings a song that’s only for you to hear.”

while hot tears brim at the corners of your eyes and spill out slowly, venti gets down on one knee and reaches into one of his pockets - your free hand flew to your agape mouth in an instant. “[name], windblume, my love, my shining star, will you marry me?”

EULA — 优菈

when did she realise she wants to marry you?

probably the first time she ever allowed herself to be vulnerable next to you. eula loves equivocation so unless you’re down to become a professional literature and language analyser , understanding her true intentions is rather difficult. but! that doesn’t mean she doesn’t have her moments where she allows her façade to be broken down, she’s human after all and everyone needs support once in a while. those few times where she simply rests on your shoulder, hugs you tightly and sheds a few tears with you whispering words of comfort — those are the times eula fully cherishes her love for you.

did she nearly reveal her plans by accident?

she’s a bit of a tricky one to decipher as on one hand i’d feel like she’d become so much more hyper-aware of people and of her surroundings and she’d absolutely refuse to talk about her plans to anyone except maybe amber while on the other hand, i feel like she’d have the attitude of “if you find out, you find out and that’s that.” eula does try her best to hide her intentions and though her attempts at stopping your suspicions are futile it’s cute to see her focus on something so intently.

꒰ EULA’S PROPOSAL ꒱

blanketed by a starlit sky at brightcrown canyon’s coast, cider lake glistening brightly and mirroring yours and eula’s forms as she swayed you to the melody of your hearts - a soothing lullaby as she called it - everything was all so mesmerising.

“i didn’t know the the leader of the reconnaissance company could be so romantic.” you giggled, she shook her head proceeding to give you a harmless glare that made you laugh once again. eula dipped you down with the grace of a true efficient professional , staring into your eyes with a sort of mischievous expression.

“i’m starting to think you say these things on purpose, my dear.” she gave you a light peck on the corner of your mouth, actively avoiding your lips to tease you. “eulaaaa..” you whine pulling yourself up closer to her. she only chuckles at your complaints and pulls you back up.

“come on my love, we can’t have the dinner getting cold can we?” taking you by the hand with a complaisant and gentle smile, eula leads you to a lavish and fragrant dinner in front of cider lake. like the classic gentlewoman she is she pulls out the chair to help you get seated. despite literal years of being together, her romantic etiquette has never failed to swoon you.

“it’s rare to see you with so much ebullience, love mind telling me what’s gotten you in such a good mood?” she simply hums in response and sits down opposite you. unbeknownst to you, eula’s mind was in total frenzy and while not being a woman of many words her face currently held more emotions than a sentence could handle.

eula cleared her throat, “[name],” her gaze flickered between you and the floor before finally settling on you, “i know it must get extremely draining having to constantly deal with me, but i am thankful each day that you’ve stuck with me and loved me.” you could see a prominent blush form on the tips of her ears. “my dearest, i can’t imagine what i would be like without you, i want to be there for you when no one else can, therefore,” she finally places her hand on the table revealing a silver ring with a jewel that matched the colour of your eyes, “will you marry me?”

K. KAZUHA — 枫原万叶

when did he realise he wants to marry you?

kazuha is innately a romantic, ask him this question and he’ll laugh it off and tell you that every passing second of his was spent thinking about being with you — and while that isn’t inaccurate, he definitely recalls this one memory where he felt his entire world slow down to appreciate you. of course, he’d never tell you it though!

did he nearly reveal his plans by accident?

once or twice he may have accidentally sent you the wrong letter where he specifically mentions his plans of proposing to you (all of which were meant to be sent to his mama beidou btw) but best believe he retrieved those letters as quick as he sent them. this is such a significant part in both of your lives were the ink in your chapters begin to spill into one another, where the string of fate tightens to emphasise your bond and, more simply, were your souls become one - he needs this to be absolutely perfect.

꒰ KAZUHA’S PROPOSAL ꒱

kazuha is a man of classical romance, i mean not only does he write endless haikus for you, send you letters while he’s out on a voyage (when it’s only been like a couple hours), he is also covered in maple leaves which themselves are woven in love — therefore it wasn’t much of a surprise when he asked you out on the third date of that week.

what was a surprise on the other hand, was the place he took you. it was the same place you two had first met, a lovely area that was abundant in peaceful joy and tranquility: amakane island. the night submerged the beautiful city of inazuma in a comforting silence with only the hums of the wind echoing in your ear. kazuha led you hand-in-hand to a small picnic he had prepared earlier that day.

from where you were sat you could clearly see the gorgeous stars scattering the glowing sky like lanterns. even when presented with such a view, kazuha’s eyes were still gently fixated on you. “you are absolutely breathtaking.” your cheeks heated up in embarrassment, how could he say such things so nonchalantly AND to your face at the same time? kazuha gives you a closed eyed smile and rested his head on his palm.

“you make me complete.” he looks at you with one eye open. in an attempt to recover from your flustered state you sigh and decide to sit back and enjoy kazuha’s delicate teasing and compliments. he begins fiddling with your hair, “without you i am not whole.” you closed your eyes as his calming voice lulled you.

“dove, please marry me.”

you’ve never sat up so fast before.

YOIMIYA — 宵宫

when did she realise she wants to marry you?

much like venti it’s practically impossible to narrow down one memory with you. some reoccurring moments have always made her ponder her future with you therefore, it’s not really a realisation more so a confirmation the person she wishes to spend her days with till old has to be you. memories she recalls that definitely emphasised her love for you all include you smiling. the knowledge she makes you just as happy as you make her is enough of a reason to put a ring on your finger. :)

did she nearly reveal her plans by accident?

listen she really tried her best to be more organised and seemingly unbothered by her internal disorder, she wanted to keep her plans a complete secret from you to serve as a cute surprise however… she was almost completely sure you heard like the majority of her plans with how much she had to yell instructions and ideas to her dad. none of that dimmed her enthusiasm though! no matter if you found out about her plans, she knew the actual proposal would still leave an impact in your heart.

꒰ YOIMIYA’S PROPOSAL ꒱

“yoiyoi…pleaseee we’ve been walking for ages! can’t we go sit down or something.” yoimiya continues dragging you past the bustling city of inazuma. you really don’t understand why she was so insistent on seeing the fireworks with so many people around, but you’re weak to her puppy eyes so you couldn’t refuse.

while the city itself was crowded with joyous laughter and sweet kids running around and causing headaches for their parents - the bridge was rather empty and calm. at last you both came to a stop. you hear yoimiya giggle ahead of you, swiftly twirling around to once again drag you to the bridges barrier. “this is the best place to watch the fireworks!” well you dare not doubt her claim.

yoimiya’s cheeriness was so infectious you didn’t even notice the corners of your mouth rising as you watched your lover gaze up at the stars of teyvat with such excitement. “yoi-“ she cut you off with a surprising kiss.

“look up, the show is starting soon!” her eyes shined brighter with every word, you couldn’t help but laugh at her silliness. in a mere number of seconds the sounds of fireworks could be heard from all over inazuma, the splashes of vibrant colour painting the sky in a loud yet melodic harmony. while the show seemed normal, your eyes caught sight of some bright kanji exploding into the sky rhythmically: 異体同心 [“two bodies, same heart.”]

albeit a bit vague, your heart was pounding into your chest and echoing in your ears as something in you begged you to turn around. as you did, all your emotions freed themselves. yoimiya was down on one knee, ring in one hand with the brightest grin adorning her face. “[name], will you marry me?”

KAEYA — 凯亚

when did he realise he wants to marry you?

when you truly felt like family to him. kaeya has been through a shit ton of travesties, things that still to this day keep him lying awake in cold sweat as his headache gets more intense. multiple people have left him, whether they perished in the cold hands of death or abandoned him callously he’s seen how cruel the game of life can be. he has clung to fate and blamed it when things refused to go his way — however, oddly enough he now praises fate for giving him a chance to meet you. waking up in the morning with you evokes such a gentle feeling of completion.

did he nearly reveal his plans by accident?

absolutely not! he’s so good at keeping his mouth shut and purposefully misdirecting people, and even you on the occasion, it’s to no surprise no words of his proposal comes out. that, and, he personally didn’t put that much thought into the whole ordeal. it’s not because he doesn’t appreciate you, it’s because he wants his words to just naturally flow out, he sees more sentimental value in things that are said in the moment (probably why he drinks so often even while being with you lol).

꒰ KAEYA’S PROPOSAL ꒱

“klee! please stop running around you’ll hurt yourself!” you catch her in your arms as the crayons in her hands proceed to fall onto the hardwood floor. she simply giggled and jumped up to hug you, you couldn’t help but sigh with a smile on your face as staying mad at her sweet face was pretty much impossible.

klee plopped herself down next to the messy piles of paper and the scattered crayons, picking up some specific colours to use for later. kaeya sat on the couch, resting his head on his palm, quietly enjoying the whole fiasco. he chuckles, “told you she’s a very energetic child.” ‘energetic’ might be a tad bit of an understatement. you join kaeya on the couch, nuzzling yourself into his side comfortably.

despite the massive headache you were forming from all the running around, the atmosphere stayed rather relaxed - getting to spend time with your boyfriend as well as klee made it feel like you were a lil’ family. with the warmth from kaeya lulling you with the addition of your prior fatigue, you were feeling rather drowsy but before your head could fall onto kaeya’s shoulder klee started tugging on both yours and his clothes. “come with me pretty please! i need a uhm reference! (∩_∩)” now, who could refuse that even while in a state of sleepiness ?

you all sat around a table, kaeya directly opposite you and klee sitting in the middle with her paper that she was suspiciously hiding from you. every few seconds she switched her gaze to look at you and then kaeya while scribbling in some details. she smacked her hands onto the table excitedly, “done!! mr kaeya can i show [name] now?” she gleams up at him. he gives her a gentle nod with his eye(s?) closed.

“look [name]!” she shoves her cute drawing your way expectantly, you could practically see a sunshine and rainbow form behind her as her childish wonder blinded you (in a good way of course).

transcript: mr kaeya wants to ask you a question

the drawing itself was absolutely adorable: you and kaeya holding hands and klee looking endearingly menacing in the background was a perfect depiction of your relationship. what caught your attention was the text written above the rest of the drawing, at first it was hard to figure out (bless klee’s heart), but soon enough you managed to read it and with a grin you turned to kaeya, “what’s the question you have for me, mr kaeya?”

leaning over to you quietly, he says in his usual calm and frosty tone, “will you marry me ?”

K. AYATO — 神里绫人

when did he realise he wants to marry you?

immediately when he started absentmindedly acknowledging you as part of his family — whether that’s including you in familial outings with ayaka, or sharing embarrassing stories from childhood. he already treats you like you have the kamisato name, so why not make it official?

did he nearly reveal his plans by accident?

with how goddamn dramatic he is you’d think so however, with the aid of the entire yashiro commission (it was mostly just thoma, bless him..) he was able to keep any words of his proposal plans from spreading. he may be quiet about it while he’s planning, however when it’s all set in motion and he’s gotten your response you best believe every single person in teyvat is at least vaguely aware of your engagement.

꒰ AYATO’S PROPOSAL ꒱

ayato has been very secretive over the past few weeks, you were used to this behaviour with him working in the yashiro commission and with the shuumatsuban , but it’s like its been completely amplified. you weren’t even able to process any of these changes either since every time your suspicion grew, ayato would whisk you away for a date.

speaking of whisking you away, ayato had “randomly” decided to take you on a vacation to fontaine. to say the least, you were absolutely ecstatic!! the beautiful nation of fontaine, filled with endless waters and buoyant sea creatures seemed like a perfect contrast to the perpetually thundering inazuma and was exactly what you needed as a break.

while the journey itself was rather chaotic, arriving at your destination and taking a deep breath in of the morning air was gratifying. “ready for today, my love?” ayato gently took you by the hand, guiding you off the ship, with that phrase alone you knew you were in for a long yet fulfilling week.

and that you were — ayato planned out an entire few days worth of activities just for the two of you. most of them consisted of intimate time together which you did not mind the slightest. every day felt like a mere second, each touch and kiss felt like a fleeting moment that would disappear and before you knew it, the end of the week dawned upon you.

despite that, this absolutely wasn’t the end of the festivities as ayato had something very special planned for this particular night. after a time at the spa and some minor shopping trips, ayato had asked you to wear something formal - you obliged, albeit with a raised brow, nothing good usually comes with ayato telling you to ‘dress up’ (last time he forced you to come to a several hour private discussion within the yashiro commission..)

as soon as you finish getting ready, ayato gracefully placed a piece of silk on your eyes, “ayato what in the name of teyvat are you planning?” he simply chuckled in response and gave you a light peck on the corner of your mouth. “don’t worry, dear you’ll be fine just follow my lead.” with a nod of your head ayato proceeded to help you walk.

“honey, are we there yettt?” you groaned. the silk finally lifted and as your eyes adjusted to the sudden lights you were in utter awe, turning around to hug him in thanks, ayato finally broke his silence, “this isn’t even the best part my love.” you cock your head to the side in confusion, how is a private and secluded dinner in front of the starry sky NOT the best part?

“you already know how much i cherish you, how i would take down the sky for you, i’d gift you the stars if you asked. with this hand i vow to protect you until my dying breath, with this hand,” ayato pulls out a box from his sleeve getting the hint at what he’s about to say, salty tears begin piling up in the corner of your eyes, “i ask you to be mine, the light in my life, will you marry me?”

ZHONGLI — 钟离

when did he realise he wants to marry you?

it was quite a long process, he wanted to make sure he was worthy of you — a god accompanying a mortal throughout their entire lifespan is not only an extremely honourable thing, but it’s also a tragic circumstance. but alas when the world paused for a moment to allow him to think about both of your futures, he desperately yearned that he was still in yours. he doesn’t want to waste your time and energy, after all you only have so many years to spend with him, this is one way he could show you that he truly cares for you and loves you.

did he nearly reveal his plans by accident?

he’s old as shit and talks way too much so yeah. he didn’t necessarily try to even hide it from you, he just refrained from talking about it but occasionally it slipped past and well, he acted very nonchalant, not really seeing a massive deal in it, while you, on the other hand, were having a flustered breakdown. he does hope you forget about it so he gets to see the genuine excitement in your eyes when the time comes.

꒰ ZHONGLI’S PROPOSAL ꒱

the peak of guyun stone forest. the perfect place to reminisce on the old memories and rejoice the new ones you’ve made — which was exactly what zhongli took you here to do oddly enough. you were quite prone to his sudden outings, he’d always ask you if you’d like to join him and well you can never resist this man.

even with the chilly breeze of the mountains, with zhongli by your side you managed to find comfort in the winds flurry. “if i did anything in my life right, it was when i gave my heart to you.” god this man really choses the most random times to make your heart skip a beat. you gleam up at him with a jovial smile, leaning your head on his body to relax, he placed his hand on your waist to pull you closer.

“i love you, my dearest. the privilege of seeing you at your best and your worst, and the privilege of guiding you through those times when fate is rather cruel is something i withhold deep in my heart. the world in which we are born into intoxicates us with its glacial and vicious atmosphere, forcing us to claw at fate to beg for mercy. yet, the chest of a beloved so easily entraps you in comfort and a gentle feeling of softness in one’s heart. i wish nothing more than to be the person in your future that holds you close and shields you from the worlds most unsightly of occurrences.” at this point you were already in absolute tears, the fact he could go on such long tangents to explain his adoration for you was enough to sweep you off your feet.

“i want to be all your firsts and all your lasts, your everything until the end of time. will you—” you very abruptly say yes probably a million times over yet the archon continues, “—marry me? i promise you my beloved, no matter what things you face i will be there to aid you, i can’t promise to solve all your problems but i can certainly promise a future where you won’t ever have to go through anything on yo-“ you kissed him, putting a sweet and quick end to his long rant. was he going deaf due to old age? perhaps.

“zhongli, my beloved and my most dearest, i’ve already said yes!!”

SCARAMOUCHE — 斯卡拉姆齐

when did he realise he want to marry you?

you made him feel human, like he belonged. he felt a nonexistent heart beat a melodic tune, one that copied yours, perhaps because he knew no other rhythm or because his love for you surpassed his forged marionette. even on his road to godhood you were there, during his tragic downfall you were there; catching him in your arms, ignoring the incessant worried yells of the traveler. with months of constant nurturing and desperate tears that fled from your hopeful eyes, he was sure you’ve grown tired of him, you’d abandon him just like those before you. yet you didn’t, of course you didn’t. maybe that’s when he realised that in order to rid himself of an everlasting, dreadful reminiscence of the past, he’d have to replace those taunts with a tangible memory of your love.

did he nearly reveal his plans by accident?

he is able to keep anything from you — i mean you didn’t even find out you were ‘dating’ until one day he referred to you as his s/o and from that day forward it became your duty to positively annoy him with affection! the only person he probably turned to for help was his auntie nahida, but she wasn’t too much of help emotionally.. her words and plan definitely reassured one thing - a proposal should be surprising and heartfelt.

꒰ SCARA’S PROPOSAL ꒱

a glistening divine light beamed from the statue of the seven, illuminating scara’s anxious and pensive expression. “feeling alright, honey?” you touch his cheek, his eyes darting to yours in an instant. scara let out a discomforted sigh, “yes, i’m fine, let’s go.” he abruptly intertwines your hands together and leads you towards the verdant flowery path of vanarana.

while you were rather suspicious on the lack of aranara idling about, you were much more concentrated on enjoying this once in a lifetime moment — scaramouche taking the initiative and preparing a date. well, that IS what he called it, but you weren’t sure whether he was planning to bury you with the padisarahs or coddle you, because the distance you were walking was oddly alarming. ‘surely we must’ve passed many great spots by now..’ , yet kept your tight hold on his hand - having trust in him.

making a subconscious effort to avoid the pond of mossy water, you squeeze yourself closer to scara, he can only smile to himself. your eyes trailed along the bright flowers that sprouted from each patch of grass , keeping a mental note on every sumeru speciality in sight (listen that shits HARD to farm ..). scaramouche’s eyes dart around so fiercely you were almost convinced he’d pass out from dizziness. you were so entranced by scara’s beauty as well as conspicuously bizarre behaviour, you didn’t even realise he had come to an abrupt stop (impromptus you bumping into him ..). you let out a contented sigh, “are we th-“ — “no. not yet.” he interrupts as he nods at something afar.

after some final groans from you and begrudging steps, you had (hopefully) came to the place you were meant to — which ironically was the same place you started at. “scaramouche don’t tell me we did an entire circle around vanarana for no reason.” he shakes his head and rolls his eyes, “of course it’s not for no reason, you idiot” he murmurs.

he shifts to face you, “close your eyes.” it was best not to argue with him with questions of ‘why’. he took hold of your hand once more to guide you, albeit roughly, down to the middle of the vanarana pond. compared to the prior echoing silence, there was a lot of shuffling and some hushed giggles that were increasing in volume with every step. the water seeped into your garments but currently that was the least of your many worries…

“y-you can open your eyes now.” scara stammered, his head filling with excruciating heat - and you did so. your eyes widened in bewilderment.

“aiya, what’s goi-“

“marry me.” scara cuts in.

“SORRY-?” i mean you were going to guess that’s what was going on, considering the many aranaras gleefully surrounding you with flowers and or flower crowns in their tiny hands - as well as the not so hidden lesser lord kusanali with a ebullient smile spreading on her face - BUT YOU DIDN’T EXPECT IT SO SUDDENLY?

your silence was feeding scara’s fears, and so he does what he always does: gets grumpy. “are you going to keep staring at me while flies go in your mouth or are you going to answer me.” cue you pouncing on him with the most joyous laughter and tears, the melody of your happiness made him subtly smile.

“i love you so much.” you tightly hug his frail form, his head drops down to your shoulder so his answer muffles, “i…love you too.”

past his unsavoury words was a heart that beat for you, and only you.

©STARYUEE do not copy, steal or repost <3

[quillyfied]

It’s late enough at night to be making an ill-advised post, let’s do it:

Years and years ago, once read a post about how if a person had a fear of dogs, other people wouldn’t be trying to get that person to hang out with dogs or give dogs a chance or say the dogs were misunderstood (the metaphor being about sexual assault survivors who have an inherent fear and distrust of cis men being told to “get over it” and “not all men”, how people with less “serious” phobias or fears or trauma responses get cared for more than rape victims, not gonna get into that bc it’s a nuanced topic and not my actual point anyway).

And. Taking that at face value, ignoring the metaphor, speaking as a person with a dog fear and who is also friends with many, many dog people: uh. Hmm. Not quite, actually. Yes, I have good friends and they are aware of my fear, and they do take steps to try and ensure my comfort when I visit, but ultimately, I’ve had so many people throughout my life try to convince me that I just need to get over my fear and that dogs are great. My fear has been laughed at. It has been not taken seriously. It’s been pushed to its limits. I have been encouraged to just give the dogs attention, or to suck it up. And admittedly, I’m better now as an adult than I was as a child, because as a child I would start crying and freaking out if a dog got too close. I have a sort of weary tolerance for my friends’ dogs now as an adult (because I’m a grownup and I know that the dogs don’t mean any harm and are entitled to not being shut up or closed off in their own homes, but also I am so massively uncomfortable around dogs and that is probably never going away). Familiar dogs are okay. Strange dogs are much less okay. Strange big dogs will still put my brain into primeval fight flight or freeze and I possum up like crazy. And yet. I must tolerate the dogs because I love their owners. So I make an effort.

So, metaphor from like 2014 or something, your logic is flawed, and people with fears, rational or no, are absolutely always pushed and prodded to some degree to overcome their fears, no matter how justified the fear. And if aging has taught me anything, it’s that exposure therapy for certain fears does do some amount of alleviation and teaches better coping mechanisms for the fear (obviously not a universal thing). I’m not going to engage with the deeper levels of the metaphor, just going to point out that “you wouldn’t push a person with a dog phobia to hang out with dogs” is WRONG, YES THEY WILL AND IT IS YOUR JOB TO LEARN HOW TO HANDLE THAT.

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Can I place an order for Yandere Geralt de Rivia with the kind and loving reader who sees the best in people?

Yes lemme cook something up for our mans Geralt⚔️

Geralt of Rivia x reader - Full Moon on the Rise

Summary: You’ve never felt actual hate for others, you can’t even bring yourself to hurt a fly, and with Geralt, he’ll make sure you never have to.

Warning: a bit of angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, protective Geralt

Masterlist

“So what do you think? The green cloak or the black one....ohhh or maybe the red one?” You ask excitedly as Geralt stands next to you, looking around for any potential threats more then actually paying any real attention, “I mean, the green matches more with the woods, you know trees n’ such and that’s great for blending in. But the black gives off those scary vibes you have. But the dark red one just looks so good, and comfy too.” You raise a brow as he nods, “You know.”

“Right.”

You smile at his adorably lack luster reply, it’s just how he is and that’s perfectly fine with you, “I’m going with the dark red cloak.” You grin with a curt nod of self approval for your knowledgeable decision making skills.

Turning to the cloak vendor you hold up your prize, “Good evening ma’am, how much for this mysterious beauty?”

The old woman smiles brightly, the corners of her eyes wrinkling as she beams, quite excited to have some business with you, “Oh, my dear that’ll be five silver pieces.” You nod, tucking your new cloak under your arm as you nudge Geralt for some coin.

He quickly snaps his head over to you, his golden irises showing concern before he realizes you’re completely fine, “Y/N what is it?”

With a small giggle you make a grabby motion with your hand, “Spare me five silver pieces my good sir.” You muse with a mischievous brow wiggle, earning an amused huff from your Witcher.

He politely grins, “Whatever the lady asks.” Feeling around he pulls out the exact amount of coin you need. Your palm is spread as he tilts his hand into yours, conveniently giving you the coin.

“Thank you my love.” You whisper softy as he simply hands you the flash of a smile before turning his head to scour the market place once again.

The old woman opens up a small sack of coins for you to dump yours in, “Thank ya dear, have a save eve’nin.”

Clink. Sounds the last silver piece as you hold your new dirt-less red cloak closer in your arm, “You too.”

She suddenly leans in a bit closer, her face going serious, “Best keep that Witcher close, never know what kind of beasts be lurking in the woods. Specially with the next full moons a com’in.” Her wrinkly complexion turning back into her original beaming old lady face, “Have a nice stay in Bellepav.”

Stepping away you nervously nod, “Uh, yes....I’ll try?” You reply, not certain if you should be concerned or ignore the weirdness of the locals.

Deciding to ignore the strange behavior of the kind old woman, you flash her a last generous grin before turning on your heel and walking over to Geralt. With the familiar sound of your approaching footsteps he turns an intrigued eye over to you.

His brows furrowing as you gently lay a hand on his arm, “You alright Y/N.” He worries, noticing the slight wariness in your step.

Lightly squeezing his forearm you send him a reassuring smile, “Of course, that old woman was just acting odd. Well not that odd, I’ve definitely seen weirder....she just had a strange look when she told me to keep you close and watch out for the next full moon.”

He moves to take your cloak from you, quietly swinging the thick comfortable dark red fabric around your shoulders, clasping the lock together that keeps the material from falling off your body.

After he’s done, does his beautiful golden eyes find your alluring ones, “Y/N, we’ll be fine. I wouldn’t dare let a soul touch you, you have my word.”

Reaching up to gently cup his scruffy cheek, you smirk, “I know you do.” Releasing your warm touch from his face do you turn towards the bakers cart, the smell of fresh bread wafting into your nostrils.

“Geralt!” You exclaim with an excited twinkle in your eyes, “Fresh bread....” Your skilled eyes land upon the shiny red apples displayed about on the stall, “Apples! Ugh, I haven’t had an actual apple in almost four months, what I would do for one.”

Your eyes stare dreamily at the bakers cart, your mouth watering at the smell and sight of the desired foods. Geralt chuckles at your adorable reaction before tugging at your arm. “Come on Y/N, I’ll get you something.” Speaks your kind Witcher with a tinge of humor in his gravely voice.

Snapping your head towards him, your eyes going wide in excitement, “Aww yes!” You shout before pulling him in the direction of the cart, joy flowing through your heart as you make hasty steps across the market place.

The red apples are even more beautiful then you’d first seen as you stand ogling them from your spot in the muddy lane, “Sir I’d like three apples and a loaf of that bread please.” You ask, your voice sweet as honey.

He nods, “That’ll be two silver pieces and a copper cent.” Inquires the baker with a friendly smile, casually looking you up and down though you’re to focused on the apples to even notice his slight creepiness.

Geralt does and immediately steps forward, his broad leather armored shoulder placing itself in between you and the lonely baker. His golden irises dark and deadly as he stares down the now noticeably frightened man.

The baker takes a step back, sending him a shy half grin, “Uh...I’ll get those apples...and uh...loaf of br-bread.” He stutteres, dropped his eyes to nothing else but his new task at hand.

You watch from behind Geralt’s strong body, your mind on those big beautiful apples as Geralt fishes out the coin, dropping it atop the wooden table as the baker hands him the loaf and a small bag filled with three juicy red apples.

A smile breaks out upon your face as Geralt hands you the food, you gratefully accept as he turns and practically death glares at the stunned baker, who’s notably averted his gaze to his fluffy loaves of bread.

Geralt turns back around to watch as you hug your valuables close, a small smirk pulls at the corner of his lips at your obliviously cute demeanor.

Resting a hand on your shoulder he finds your beaming eyes, “Lets go find Roach.”

You gasp, “I bet Roach would love one of these big beautiful bastards.” Earning a chuckle from your silver haired lover as he walks by your side on the way to the front entrance of the small village.

You both wander past some more harmless villagers going about their business until a small dirty little boy races past the two of you, tripping over his own two feet and just like that does he abruptly fall into the dirt. His hands landing with a thwack sound as his stomach and knees reach the hard ground.

He lets out a pained cry once his chin hits the earth, you don’t have time to think before you’ve crouched by his side like a concerned mother. You gently touch his shoulder as he sniffles, his dirt smudged face turning to you.

“That was quite the tumble, are you alright?” His big brown eyes are filled with unshed tears as he moves into a seated position, his hands clutched tight against his chest as he holds in the pain.

“Y-yes.....sorry miss I should have been looking were I was going.” He mutters, his eyes downcast as he avoids Geralt’s hard gaze from right next to you.

Your eyes turn soft before you take one of your red apples from out of your thin ruck sack, “I have just the thing that would cheer you up, ever taste something as colorful as this crimson beauty?” You add with a raise of your brow, the young boy sniffles again. His face lighting up as you wave the shining red apple across his line of sight.

You smile, handing him the scarlet treat, “I think you need this more then me. Maybe it’ll sharped those senses so you won’t fall again, hmm.”

He holds the valuable in his small grubby fingers, his eyes wide in surprised wonder, “Th-thank you miss, I’ll try and not fall again.”

You breath out an amused snort, “Yes, I wouldn’t want to land on these streets again, considering horses are ridden through them daily.” The brown eyed boy gives you the shyest of smiles before you stand to your full height once again.

“Safe travels.” You add with a friendly wink before continuing on your way out of the village, Geralt trailing after you like the ever loyal lover that he is.

His large form keeps comfortably at your side, “That was our apple Y/N.” States Geralt in his titular gruff Witcher voice.

Turning an amused smirk to him, you nudge his arm, “Great observation, but the little beast seemed to need it more...poor thing just about face planted in the street. Did look quite painful.”

Geralt smiles, always bemused by your kind intellect, “Y/N you are too kind.”

Walking past the front gates and down the muddy village trail you let out a small laugh, “What? Can I not give a little, if you haven’t noticed my White Wolf...this world doesn’t like to be very kind to the innocent most times.” He hums in agreement, “So you see, I’ll do whatever I can to help those who need it most. And if that’s a clumsy child with a dirty face, I’ll be glad to make their day better.”

You can’t see it, but Geralt’s heart could just about explode with how much love he has for you in this very moment, the way you speak with such care and kindness for the people of the continent. He’s never met anyone like you, through it all, with all you’ve seen, your heart still goes out for the ones who need it the most and Geralt knows this. 

Your whole aurora feels light and warm, excitement courses through your vessel as you think of how happy Roach is going to be once she gets a taste of your delicious apple. And especially how much you’re looking forward to taking a bite out of your own crispy red apple too. It’s the little things.

Boots press into mud as you finally find your way to the small stream where you both left Roach to nibble on some vegetation. You quickly set your loaf of bread onto a mossy log before reaching in your thin ruck sack to pull out one beautifully shiny crimson apple.

“Hello my dear Roach!” You exclaim happily as the mare neighs, “I’ve got a lil somethin’ for ya, it’s a...da da da daaaa....apple!” Geralt chuckles to himself in the background as he fumbles around in his black traveling bag, finding something to sharpen his sword with.

“How bout’ them apples..” you burst with laughter at your admittedly cheesy jest, “Okay, okay...here ya go Roach. A prize for the best lady in all the land.” Her head bobs up and down as you bring the red apple near her face. She quickly devours the fruit in a matter of seconds, the speed and her clear delight enough to earn a giggle from you.

“Roach.” You tut with a shake of your head, “Those manners are something else. Wonder who you learned them from?”

You turn an eye to Geralt who’s stopped sharpening his sword to find your humored gaze, “I wouldn’t have the slightest idea.” He mutters, doing his best to hide his growing smile.

Turning a flustered face away from him you gently pet Roach’s soft mane, “He thinks he’s funny, doesn’t he?” You whisper to the mare.

After tending to Roach for a bit do you walk down to the stream, washing away the dirt and grime from your hands and face as Geralt starts a fire close by. You can feel his golden irises watching you as the cool water washes away the worries of the day.

Finishing up your nightly routine, you stand once more, turning around to face the loving smile of your dear Witcher. You walk over to his glowing fire, a small smile upon your lips, “Room for one more?”

He scoots himself down the log, patting to the extra spot, “There’s always room for you.”

Sitting yourself next to him, he quickly wraps a protective arm around you, pulling your body close. The both of you do nothing but enjoy one another’s company and the crackling of the campfire for what seems like hours. You couldn’t be bothered to remove yourself from Geralt even if a whole war party was racing past you both louder then a giants scream.

Though you’re just about certain without a doubt in your mind that Geralt feels the exact same way. His breathing his steady and calm, it’s a comforting rhythm that you could listen to for hours. Even his large muscular arm is warm against your body, he’s like a furnace on the coldest night. And all yours.

You’re just about to drift off into dreamland when a sudden loud howl is heard in the near distance causing you to jump. Geralt hugs you closer, “Fear not Y/N, it’s just a damn wolf, nothing to be afraid of.” He assures you with the kindest of smiles, not a note of falseness lacing his words.

Resting your head against his broad shoulder once again, you gently squeeze his hand, “Right, of course. Just a stupid old wolf who apparently feels it the time to howl at the full moon tonight.” You affirm with a curt nod, “I mean, it’s beautiful out and whatnot, guess it just startled me is all.”

“There’s nothing in these woods to be afraid of, except for me.” Grumbles Geralt as he stares into the embers of the fire.

“Oh, my love I could never be afraid of you. Never.” He smiles at your truthfulness, his chest filling with warmth at your kind words.

In reply he places a gentle kiss atop your head, earning a content sigh to leave your lips at the feeling, he is too good to you and you wouldn’t have it any other way. Not once has he ever made you uncomfortable or in fear for your life because of him, Geralt makes sure of himself to always put you first. He couldn’t bare to ever see you in pain.

The grip on your Witcher’s arm goes tighter at the sound of another piercing howl, this time much too close for your liking. Geralt can sense the fearful uneasiness radiating off of your smaller frame, how your heartbeat has picked up with the rush of your nerves. You’re not one to scare that easily, but this wolf is most definitely getting closer for whatever reason.

“Geralt!” You whisper yell, “That sounded close!”

With one arm wrapped around your torso and the other one clasped around the hilt of his silver sword, he looks around him as they two of you keep seated atop the log, a grand moon cloaking the land in a strangely beautiful whiteness. Revealing enough light upon the ground so that not all of the forest is covered in darkness and shadow.

“Don’t worry Y/N, I will protect you.” He swears to you, giving a light squeeze to your hip in a small act of comfort, “And anyways, if this was anything to be truly concerned about, Roach would show it. We are going to be fine. This wolf is simply just passing through.”

Your eyes glance over to Roach who’s casually nibbling on some grass, “Alright. Perhaps I’m overreacting, it’s just a wolf going on a nightly stroll as you do, nothing weird about that.”

“Precisely, now how about we get ready for bed? I’ve got the bed rolls already layed out for us....so don’t worry Y/N I’ve got you.” Reassures your Witcher as he removes his arm from your side to rest his sword in the grass right next to his makeshift bed. 

Feeling much better now you eagerly follow suit, the roughish cloth of your traveling bed roll is a cherished luxury of journeying across the vast lands of the continent. Though a tavern mattress would be more inviting, the arms of Geralt are always enough in your eyes, or perhaps arms in this case.

Even on the coldest of nights out here would you never really feel a shiver or the icy touch of the cool night air upon your skin. For your Witcher’s large frame seems to always be enough to block out the chill with his body heat when pressed closely against your back.

 Just like he is doing now, holding you securely to his large chest, his arms wrapped around your torso. Pulling yourself firmly counter to him, a thick blanket holding in the needed heat that nicely covers over the both of you.

With Geralt so near, your wandering and worrying mind has subsided those troublesome thoughts away from you, the howling wolf from earlier now finding it’s way into the back of your head. Giving yourself time to forget and find the call to sleep once again. With the warmth of Geralt holding you close, your eyelids flutter shut in a matter of seconds, the pull into the dark void of unconsciousness taking hold of you quickly.

Soon you’re out like a light, Geralt falling asleep not long after you do, leaving only the dull glowing embers of the campfire to keep watch over the two of you. Sleep is peaceful and full of strange images presenting themselves as dreams in your head, you can hear the soft sweet calling of Geralt as he speaks sweet nothings into the bleary grey void. 

Suddenly you’re standing in a large field of the greenest grasses flowing at your feet, large beautiful mountains surrounding you on all sides off in the far distance, you look to your left and find a single small tree with a branch sticking out. 

Walking closer, a black raven materializes right before your very eyes, breaking the silence with a gravelly shrill caw as it nods in your direction. Like it’s trying to communicate with you in the birds own way, furrowing your brows, you trek closer to the mysterious bird. You don’t appear to feel afraid or scared, you’re not even sure if you feel anything at all. Guess that’s just how dreams are sometimes.

Taking another step closer the raven lets out a thrilling caw before the dark bird spreads its black wings, you stumble back as the bird jumps from its perch to take flight. It flaps past you before landing on the short green grass where it is immediately clouded in dark smoke of blues, purples, and deep reds until everything clears to reveal the dirt smudged face of the little boy from earlier that day.

You gasp, surprised to see the little guy standing right before you once again, he looks up to you now, the tiniest of smiles crossing over his face. You stand perplexed, ready to ask him why he’s here when suddenly he points to the blue sky. 

“Hold your silver close.” He speaks softly, in that unassuming boyish voice of his.

Hugging yourself, you glance back down at him, “Sorry? I’m not sure what you mean.”

He simply points his little stubby finger back up at the sky, you follow, bewildered to find that the sky is now dark and full of stars, though you can still see around you like the sun is still out. How odd.

“Hold your Witcher close.” Warns the small child in the calmest of voices. 

Furrowing your brows in confusion you meet his stoic gaze once again. “Uh....I’m kind of lost, sorry.” You mutter, “I’m not certain what you mean.”

The child smiles a beaming grin, letting out the most adorable of giggles before pointing up at the night sky for the third time, you shift your gaze to find nothing but pitch blackness. And a huge milk white glowing full moon, it’s the largest you’ve ever seen and it’s absolutely magnificent.

You don’t even notice the smile that's fallen onto your face when you suddenly hear the flapping of feathers, snapping your sight back over to the young boy, you’re perplexed to be greeted with the beaming wrinkly face of the old woman from the market. 

She nods, acknowledging your presence, “Watch for what lurks in the woods dear. The full moon is here.” She whispers, the warmest of smiles gracing over her aged face as she nods to you once again.

Taking a step closer you take a nervous fistful of the red cloak that’s covering your body, how strange you didn’t notice the material before hand. “Oh, uh hello there....it is quite beautiful isn’t it.” You stammer, “There was a little boy just here moments ago. Do you know where he went?”

She tilts her head to the side, walking a couple steps forward so that she can reach out to clasp both your hands with hers, a kind twinkle in her eye, “My dear, he will always love you, through land and sea, from woods to meadow, and far beyond what makes us human.” She gently squeezes your hands in reassurance, “No matter the cost, he will always love you. For you are his moon, and he is your sun.”

Your brows scrunch together at her poetic words of wisdom? Or, well you’re not entirely so sure, “Sorry. I’m not confident on what you’re getting at ma’am, uh...thank you, I guess.” She smiles once again, showing you a nod of approval before letting go of your hands. 

She takes a step back, clasping her palms together, “He is here.” 

“Who is here?” You wonder.

“You will see.”

Without warning she abruptly bursts into a flurry of cawing ravens that squawk and screech as they press and flap their dark wings against your face, causing you to fall back into the grass from the jolting intrusion. Suddenly you suck in a quick breath of cold air, your eyes shooting wide open, only for you to find the snoozing face of Geralt. 

His tangled dirty white hair a mess over his handsome face as he lets in slow and calming breaths, you relax, letting out an audible sigh of relief. What a strange dream that was, you’ve never had anything like it before. And your dreams are far from anything normal most times. 

Though Geralt feels rather nice snuggled next to you, your body feels hot and sweaty, like you can’t help but feel a bit overwhelmed and cornered at the moment. Wanting to get some air and cool off, you quietly and skillfully slip from your Witcher’s sweet embrace. You slowly cover him back up with the thick blanket, tip-toeing over to Roach who’s itching her furry bottom on a tree.

You take small steps towards her, a half smile pulling at the corner of your lips, “Hey there girl, having fun?” You chuckle to yourself as she does her thing.

“Nice night huh, I hope no one’s come around to bother you.” She leans her big soft nose into your gentle touch as you pet her, “I got a little too warm, guess Geralt’s a lot hotter then I anticipated. Well, I mean...he’s always hot if you catch my meaning...but you probably already new that and uh....you’d probably rather not listen to me ramble on about how attractive your rider is, hmm? So don’t fret, I will stop.”

She snorts, nudging her nose into your opened palm, “Okay girl, I think you’re great too. I’d say you’ve helped us out quite a bit and not to mention when...” 

Snap.

Your head leers to the left at the abrupt sound, nothing but milky white darkness and shadow is to be seen as your eyes trail over the wood line. That was certainly very close, what the hell even made that stick break? Was it a deer, or maybe a coyote? 

Your nerves prick when Roach suddenly takes a wary step backwards, her leather reigns pulling to their limit as she takes another step away from you. Thinking quick, you rush to her side, pulling out Geralt’s other silver sword just incase some weird shit is about to go down.

Grasping the blade in your tight grip, you take cautious steps towards the heavy pines that seems to be the place where the stick snapped. You swallow nervously, your heart just about beating out of your chest as you travel closer and closer to the green bristles. 

Y/N what are you doing? Have you learned nothing from what those weird dreams were telling you?

Blinking hard, you stop, turning an apprehensive glance over to your peacefully sleeping Witcher, why wake him this could be a simple deer? Letting out another shaky breath you turn towards the thick pine trees, squinting your eyes as you try and do your absolute best to locate the intruder. Walking past a small evergreen, your heart feels like it’s about to explode when suddenly you hear a gentle rustle of leaves directly in front of you.

Turn back idiot.

Stopping dead in your tracks, you blink again, attempting to focus enough that maybe you’ll be able to see what’s making that noise. But as you’re leaning in to the pines, does your eyes finally catch the sight of a large black figure standing on the other side of the tree. Without warning the shadow leaps, you don’t even have a chance to scream before the flash of pearly white fangs reveals itself to you in a raging blur. 

The beast shoves you back into the clearing, emitting a blood curdling howl of agony as it steps into the moonlight, your eyes widen in fear at the chilling sight of a huge dark-grey werewolf. It’s inhuman eyes that of glowing topaz, it’s fangs bare and mouth dripping with saliva. Your chest rises and falls with heavy terrified breaths as the wolfman stands on two legs, its strong hand going to its stomach where a thick human like paw pulls out your silver blade.

Steaming red hot blood pours to the frost covered earth as the beast drops the shinning silver to the ground, its wound showing in the bright moonlight as it eyes you down like you’re nothing more then a lost sheep. You shiver at the sight, desperately scooting yourself backwards towards the fire as the werewolf growls a low but haunting note, falling onto all fours as it takes a step closer.

A frightful tear falls down the side of your cheek, you see nothing but hunger and pain in this creatures eyes, he’s slowly dying, but you know he will kill you before his last breath is had.

The wolfman growls again, readying a last charge when all of a sudden a shimmering silver sword is thrust deeply into the beasts throat, the source of its demise steps in between you and the wounded bastard.

Your eyes are wide as you watch the werewolf sink to the earth, gargling and choking on it’s own blood as it dies, twitching here and there before finally it goes still as stone. Not a sound emitting from it’s vessel but the heavy breaths of yourself and Geralt, who’s walked over to the beast now. Crouching down to observe it better, he hums, pulling the blood covered sword out of the monsters throat with a gross meaty sound.

You let out a shaky breath, slowly pulling yourself to your feet as Geralt drags his bloody silver over the beasts fur to clean the wet red from the blade. You swallow thickly, eyes watery from the whole frightening ordeal, “So not a deer as I had hoped.” You mutter, a nervous chuckle leaving your lips causing you to gasp in pain at something on your ribs. 

Geralt pierces his sword into the soft dirt, his face a mask of frustrated anger as he turns to you, “Y/N what where you thinking? You could have been killed, you didn’t know what was lurking in the dark, why wouldn’t you have just stayed by the fire?” He grumbles as you avoid his troubled gaze.

Another tear slips down your cheek causing his face to immediately soften, “I don’t know?” You whisper sadly, “I...I shouldn’t have thought to walk in the dark alone like that, it was foolish of me Geralt, truly...I’ll think better of it next time I promi- agh ugh...”A sharp jolting pain rips through your body right down the side of your right ribcage, feeling like someone has just burned you with a cast iron. 

More whimpers slip from your tongue at the searing violent stinging of your flesh causing you to press your hands against the area, your face contorting into one of agony while Geralt’s expression reveals deep concern. Not understanding in the slightest why you feel such misery all of a sudden, your eyes slip down to the dreaded area where you take notice of how your dark coat appears to be torn in jagged slashes where the pain is coming from.

Your brows furrow as you slowly remove your tied overcoat, Geralt’s big golden irises studying your every move for what the problem may be. Your hands make quick work of the lacing, now your arms move as you remove the jacket, you gasp in fear once it falls to the ground.

“Y/N.” Whispers Geralt in the softest of voices as a lone tear slides down your cheek.

Slowly you raise your weary head to meet is saddened gaze, “I’ve been bitten.” You rasp, lifting your bloody hand up into the silky moonlight, the burning ache of your wound making itself more present then ever.

Suddenly a surging spike of white hot torment angrily tears up into your side once more, though this time it’s too overwhelmingly excruciating that you fall to your knees, desperately grasping your wounded side when Geralt takes quick steps forward. Pulling you into his strong arms before you’re able to even hit the cold earth completely, his eyes never leaving your distressed face.

“Y/N look at me love, I’m right here...” He speaks gently while holding you close, though you can’t look at him, “don’t be afraid I’ve got you.”

More fearful tears fall freely now as you press your face into his shoulder, a numb and dark feeling finding it’s way into your soul while your arms wrap themselves around his waist, “No, not this.” You cry, shaking with fright, “This cannot be, I-I cannot be a wolf beast....I won’t ever harm anyone Geralt I swear to you on my life, I would never! I-I could never, it isn’t in me!” 

“Oh Y/N, my dear Y/N..” His voice surprises you with how uncharacteristically tender it sounds, “Look at me love.” He pleads calmly, pulling you from his shoulder so that you may look into his kind-hearted gaze, “Do you think now, that I would dare lay my blade against your precious skin?” Your lip quivers as your watery eyes slip from his to the werewolf laying dead near the two of you.

“I am one of them now Geralt. How can I live as this now, I am not a monster. I can’t hurt innocent people, I can’t.” You exclaim, your voice breaking as you speak, “All the years we have been together have been the happiest of my entire life, know this Geralt. You bring me so much joy and light that I never imagined I could ever feel, you have given me your heart even when you first claimed you could not love. I will never forget that.” His heart breaks in two at your truthful words of honesty paired with how somber and dismal you appear.

Not being able to stand you looking away from him for much longer, he carefully lifts a hand up to turn your face to his, leaving his palm on your cheek in a comforting manner, “Y/N my love, you will never be a monster in my eyes, not once not ever. I may be a Witcher, but you will not meet an untimely end due to this curse that has made it’s way into your vessel.” His eyes are soft and serene, full of absolute love and adoration for you.

Y/N he will not hurt you, but you cannot hurt others.

You sniffle, your voice thick as you speak, “I will not let others suffer a violent death because of me Geralt, it’s not in my blood.”

“You will not, there is always another way..”

“There is no other way!” You interrupt, sure of yourself that this new affliction will be your inevitable demise, “A werewolf cannot be broken of their curse once it is had, there are no known antidotes!”

“Y/N..”

“This bite cannot be undone Geralt.”

Eyes softening, he pulls you in closer to rest his head against your own, “My dear Y/N, your life means more to me then you know. I will find you the cure, I have seen a vial of it myself long ago when visiting an experienced alchemist who taught me many things about potion making. He will surly know how to rid this she-wolf within you, I am sure of it.”

Lifting your face away from his, you finally show him the tiniest of relieved smiles, your heart bursting with joy at this refreshing news, “You never fail to surprise me, even now. I trust you...I love you Geralt of Rivia with my entire being, every part of me from now until death. I guess this world has yet to bring me down.” 

Studying your newly determined expression, he grins with eyes full of love, “I do not doubt it my dear one.”

[peachyteez]

 harmless pranks ≫ DAY ONE, WOOYOUNG?!

this mischevious dolphin hybrid escaped an illegal experiment lab and has wandered the ocean for almost a year. all he longed for was love and attention—maybe even a family. who knew his “little” prank on jiyu would be the beginning to all of his wishes being granted.

PART OF THE HEAVEN SERIES.

✧ taglist: @defsoul15, @jaeminpeachy, @joongiebug, @sunsethw4, @t-tbinnie, @chanyeolol, @danibookmarks, @hello-its-ya-boi, @murralyn, @panini, @moon8894, @koasworld, @taetae123094, @luv3rxcha, @treasure-hwa, @etherealbyeol, @hwaseongzzz, @lovely-sanie, @orbitiiny, @pirate-of-the-dark-seas, @babydolljo, @ms-starlight, @everrrlasting, @bls-luv-me, @atzgiggle, @arohabyeol, @rainbowmagicpixecorn, @soverystupid, @ayetothezee, @kingalls00, @sanstreasure0305, @sparklingmallow, @kpopnightingale, @rosesarethebest, @stillcantfindaproperusername, @bonbonhwa, @its-sarah-stark, @sanismybb, @frankenstein852, @peachseok, @woopetals, @exhofayemars, @pvrkacciosan, 

✧ can’t be tagged: @alienmashup, @c-sanshine, @int0chae

✧ notes: surprise! i know i scheduled the release for may 7th, but thought i’d release it a little early :)

next。

“i can’t believe you’re up and leaving us for a month,” yeonjun sarcastically commented while helping her lug her last luggage into the mercedes van that sunwoo had been so generous enough to send to pick them up. “and from the looks of it, it doesn’t look like soobin, beomgyu, and taehyun are going to let go of the others.”

and true to his word, she looked over to see them gathered in a group hug. beomgyu clung onto yunho with teary eyes, he’s never been separated from him for a month before. yunho gently pat the younger puppy’s head with a small smile. 

she chuckled at the heartwarming scene. “guys, you’ll still be able to call and facetime. and you’re acting like we’re never coming back! we’re only going to jeju island.”

“but what if you run away with this person because they’re rich?” beomgyu asked, ignorant to her background. at his question, the other boys gasped and whipped their heads over to her. 

her smile slightly faltered, forgetting that they don’t know of her origins. she knew she’d have to come clean someday—maybe this trip was the right time to tell. 

“don’t be ridiculous, of course we are,” she gently reprimanded before coming over to ruffle beomgyu’s hair. “beomgyu’s imagination is just running a tad bit wild.”

pouting, beomgyu shifted from yunho to engulf her in a bear hug. 

“soobin and i’ll make sure beomgyu doesn’t grow any grey hairs while worrying about you guys,” taehyun jokingly reassured. he knew beomgyu well enough, even though he was an addition to the family a month ago.  

“miss, it’s about time to depart to the airport,” the driver informed with a bow. 

with a nod, she rubbed beomgyu’s head. “okay, we need to go now, bub. we’ll message you when we get there, okay?”

reluctantly nodding, beomgyu let her go. he joined soobin, taehyun, and yeonjun to see them off, waving until they not longer saw the black vehicle. 

in the car, yunho, mingi, san, and yeosang were fascinated with how fancy the interior was. there were two rows of two seats, and row with three seats in the back. the seats were so comfortable, and it was so roomy; an environment unfamiliar to the hybrids. while seonghwa and yunho knew somewhat of her background, the others wondered how she managed to afford something like this. 

“is your friend rich?” san asked, looking back to face jiyu. seating arrangements were decided by an intense game of rock-paper-scissors. in the end, yeosang and hongjoong sat in front, mingi and san were in the middle row, and jiyu was squished in between yunho and seonghwa in the back. 

“that’s one way of putting it, yes.” in truth, she was worried about how they would react to her and sunwoo’s background. most of them had come from influential families or illegal organizations to begin with. having terrible memories with them, would they change once they knew who she really was?

“but don’t worry, he’s really nice! he has a hybrid friend of his own, too. i think he said a german shepard hybrid.” yunho seemed to perk up at the thought of meeting another dog hybrid. 

“hm...if you say so. if you trust him, then we do, too,” hongjoong said before getting comfortable in the seat. 

upon arriving at the airport, the van immediately took them to the runway where a private plane was parked and waiting. she assumed it was sunwoo’s. the boys plastered their faces against the van windows at the sight of the plane. they’ve never been on one before, hence their childlike fascination. 

“are we really going on that?” san asked with excitement. “i love your friend already,” he teasingly commented. 

jiyu softly chuckled as the van came to a stop. hopping out, she saw sunwoo standing at the entrance to the plane with a hybrid she assumed was eric. catching sight of jiyu, he started climbing down the stairs. she smiled and waved to him, an action he returned with a small chuckle. 

“were you waiting long?”

he shook his head. “don’t worry, we came ten minutes ago. eric’s been eager to meet you and your—” seeing the six hybrids behind her filing out of the van, his eyes widened. he knew she had hybrids, but he didn’t really know what to expect. “you have six?”

she sheepishly chuckled. “yeah...i hope you don’t mind. they won’t bite if that’s what you’re worried about.”

on the contrary, sunwoo didn’t mind at all; it actually made her a hundred times cooler in his eyes if anything. he’s never met a girl who managed to befriend six different hybrid breeds. but then again, with her job, he should’ve seen it coming. despite that, she just kept surprising him with who she is. 

“guys, this is sunwoo,” she called out to the boys. “he’s the friend i was talking about!” 

while the boys acquainted themselves with sunwoo, the german shepard hybrid approached jiyu with a friendly smile. “hi, i’m eric! although i think sunwoo told you plenty about me already.”

jiyu giggled at the boy’s abundance of energy. “he has mentioned you a few times. i’m jiyu.”

eric enthusiastically nodded. “i’ve heard about you a lot, too! sunwoo didn’t stop talking about you for a whole week after your first meeting.”

jiyu felt her face flush at the new piece of information. “a week—”

“ji! sunwoo said there’s also video games on the plane!”

before eric could continue exposing sunwoo, yunho came bounding up to her with the others in tow. with their calm and excited demeanor, she assumed that they managed to feel relaxed and at home with sunwoo, which made her happy and relieved. 

“is that so?” she mused, rubbing the spot behind his ears. yunho nodded and giggled, pushing his head into jiyu’s hands. eric glanced at sunwoo and couldn’t help the smirk on his face at the sight of the soft look on his friend’s face. 

snapping out of his reverie, sunwoo cleared his throat. “we should get going.”

the plane ride nothing out of the ordinary—the boys were getting to know eric, while jiyu and sunwoo caught up over a glass of champagne. 

“so it seems like your friends don’t know about you yet?” sunwoo inquired. “i told eric to keep his mouth shut about it just in case.”

softly shaking her head, she quietly glanced at the hybrid group that had passed out not too long ago after expending all of their energy. “only seonghwa and yunho know about it. i never found the right time to tell the others but this trip might be it.”

mingi had sleepily wandered over towards them and plopped down next to her before laying his head on her lap. within a few minutes, his breath evened out again. 

an endearing chuckle left her lips as she threaded her fingers through his faded red hair. “ah, you big baby,” she cooed. 

sunwoo watches her with a soft smile on his face. he watches the way she gently lulls the giant bunny to sleep, the mother-like smile on her face, the gentle aura she exudes—he could go on and on. she was completely different from what he had been expecting. while they had a few brief meetings during company gatherings, she always had a blank expression, never smiling nor frowning. it was almost like she was more robot than human.

when his parents had informed him of his future marriage with her, he didn’t know how to react. a part of him would’ve been lying if he had denied feeling the tiniest bit of disdain at his fate.

but lo and behold, she managed to leave him soft and charmed with every meeting, even if this was only their second one. 

“sir, ma’am, we’ll be landing in about ten minutes. please fasten your seatbelts.” 

his pilot’s voice managed to break him out of his thoughts, leaving him to scramble to sit up straighter and cool his flushed face. 

“i should wake them up,” jiyu said, completely unaware of sunwoo’s dilemma. softly shaking mingi’s shoulder, she gently prodded him awake before relaying the pilot’s message to him. padding over to the others, she did the same.

sunwoo sighed before buckling in his own seatbelt. he needed to keep himself in check around her before he accidentally does something that would embarrass himself. this is going to be a long month.

upon arriving at the private vacation home, jiyu was already bombarded with the youngers’ pleas to go to the beach. luckily for them, the vacation home was just down the street from the beach, giving them easy access to visit whenever they wanted. 

“i’m really sorry, i hope you don’t mind,” she apologized to sunwoo for the fact that they were going to the beach the moment they put their bags down. “if you’re tired, you can stay. i can take—”

sunwoo’s soft chuckle made her pause mid-sentence. she didn’t know he was capable of making such a melodious sound. while she was still living in the main house, her friends had painted him to be an aloof person. and even from what she saw at company dinners. the daughters of other elites were always throwing themselves at him, offering him drinks and their company. 

yet every singe time without fail, he would coldly reject them.

so when yuta had told her that he was the one her father set her up with, she was doubtful if they could even be civil with each other. 

“it’s fine, i’ll go with you and the others. eric’s been pestering me to go, too so it works out.”

the soft and friendly expression was just proof to her that maybe, just maybe, she had been judging the facade he puts up.

“oh, okay then!” she smiled before scurrying to her room to change. “let’s meet back here when we’re ready!”

watching her excited like a child to go to the ocean, he couldn’t contain the smile that he had been biting back. he was glad that they could at least be friends despite the circumstances.

“stop staring at her door and go change, loverboy.”

he was bought back to reality by his best friend’s quip. throwing him a half-hearted glare, he trudged to his room. “i wasn’t staring.” even his protest was weak. 

eric couldn’t help the smirk that crosses his face. he’s known his best friend long enough to know that he never gets like this around girls. “this should be an interesting trip.”

by the time they all met back up to leave, it was two p.m.—a prime time for the sun to be out and bestowing them with it’s heat on their short walk to the beach.

“it’s the ocean!” yunho shouted with utter glee and happiness as he and eric raced each other across the sand and to the water. the others ran after them, even san who ended up straying on shore and dipping his feet in the water. hongjoong joined him as he watched over the others in the water. 

jiyu and sunwoo had found a group of beach chairs under a big umbrella and tossed their bags down. stretching her limbs, jiyu sprawled out on a chair and closed her eyes for a brief moment. hearing the ocean waves along with the cheerful shouts of the boys in the water made her smile with content. 

cracking an eye open, she caught sunwoo throwing off the white t-shirt he had on and shaking his head afterward to fix his hair. her eyes raked over his body against her own will. his lean figure, the define abs lined on his stomach, and the hints of muscles on his arm only served to have a volcano of butterflies erupt in her stomach. 

“everything okay?” he asked, leaning down towards her face.

looking away from his piercing gaze, she jumped up and quickly discarded her own outerwear before speed-walking towards the water. “yep! just great!” she definitely didn’t miss the smirk that was threatening to take over his face. 

sunwoo smirked before running to catch up with her. he couldn’t help but take note of the red two-piece she was sporting. a part of him wanted to throw his earlier discarded t-shirt over her to give her coverage from other people’s gazes that were lingering just a bit too long, but he bit back his own desire.

after all, they were just budding friends who were about to be stuck in an arranged, and potentially loveless, marriage.

but that didn’t stop him from lifting her up and tossing her into the water.

emerging back up, she had to rub her eyes to get rid of the salt water before throwing a glare towards the laughing culprit.

“kim sunwoo!” she stood up and crossed her arms across her chest like an angry child. 

“i had to—hey!”

too busy caught up in his own laughter, he failed to notice the wolf hybrid sneaking up behind him to exact revenge for jiyu. emerging up next to jiyu, shook his head to remove excess water out of his hair before looking for his culprit. seeing the proudly-smiling seonghwa on shore with his hands on his hips, he let out snort. 

“alright, you got me.”

she burst into giggles before floating on her back. looking up at the sky, there were no hints of clouds—just the endless blue that seemed to stretch out for miles on end. feeling someone tug her feet, she perked her head up to see yeosang pulling her. 

“you were floating too far out,” he informed before lightly flicking her forehead. “watch out before you float away and we’re stranded here without you,” he added with a chuckle, just barely missing the splash of water that jiyu retaliated with, before swimming off back to yunho and mingi. 

“he seems fun to be around,” sunwoo said as swam up to join her. “he reminds me of eric, only more sass.”

“yeah, i never know where his sass comes from—”

she was cut off by a huge splash of water from behind that had not only hit her, but also sunwoo. turning around, she expected it to be yeosang, san, or eric.

but no one was behind them. 

sunwoo furrowed his eyebrows. the hybrid group was at least twenty feet away from them—there was no way any of them could’ve done it since he and jiyu would’ve heard them swimming off or laughing. 

“that’s odd, who—ah!”

before jiyu could finish her sentence, a pair of arms grabbed her waist and yanked her underwater. having no time to react, she felt herself being tugged away as they started swimming with her in tow.

sunwoo swore his heart almost stopped; whether it be from the fact that it all happened so quickly or the fact that jiyu could potentially be drowning, he didn’t know. he didn’t have time to know.

“oi, what the—!”  

his scream caught the others attention. looking over, they sunwoo looking frantic pulling something up from under the water. 

but there was no jiyu. 

they all swam over with urgency, fearing something went wrong.

“where is she?” hongjoong asked, brows furrowing with panic. the others looked ready to fight what or whoever took jiyu, even yunho and mingi even though they both looked on the verge of crying. 

“something pulled her down and just...swam away!”

meanwhile, underwater, jiyu was having a ball trying to fight off what or whoever pulled her down. it was definitely a person—she felt the arms around her waist and the hard chest that was tightly pressed against her back. looking behind her she managed to make out a male with majestic, black with gold highlights. 

the lack of air snapped her back to reality from her gawking and she stared to try and pry the man’s hands off of her. as if catching onto her message, he quickly brought her back up to the surface. 

inhaling like her life depended on it and coughing out some water, she turned around and glared at whoever decided to try and almost drown her.

but before she could her a word out, she was blown away by how...pretty the man staring back at her was. with his hair tucked behind his ears, it framed his face perfectly, showing off his distinct and defined facial features.

but something else caught her eye. 

the lower half of his body was a tail. eyes flicking back and forth from the man’s face to the tail, her mouth opened and closed like fish out of water.

“a fish h-hybrid..?”

“oi, jiyu!” 

at the sound of her name, she looked behind the man to see everyone swimming up to her. it turned out that they weren’t that far away from shore—the man, or hybrid, just took her along the shoreline rather than farther out like she had originally thought. 

the unknown hybrid just watched as the seven other hybrids and sunwoo crowded her to make sure she was okay. yeosang profusely apologized, saying “i know i joked about you floating away and stranding us, but i didn’t mean to make that a reality”.

sunwoo ruffled her wet hair, breathing out a sigh of relief. “you scared me there. i thought i was going to lose you on the first day here.”

“huh? yeosang?”

at the sound of his name, yeosang turned around and practically fainted. he literally swam past him, how did he manage to miss the extremely familiar face.  he stared at the underwater hybrid, wide-eyed, like he had witnessed another miracle from the universe. the unknown man mirrored yeosang’s look.

“wooyoung?!”

[deadbiwrites]

hey, for the ask thing, can you do #9 under random: “You come here often?” “Well, I work here. So I think I’d have to say ‘yes’.”

This one was so fun!!

--

Kara doesn’t drink, usually.

It’s not like, a thing, that she doesn’t drink. Some sort of moral or religious blah blah whatever, it’s just that she… doesn’t.

So when she’s dragged out to the bar for Nia’s 21st birthday, she expects it to be more of the same- her friends will get drunk, Brainy will dominate at the trivia game that’ll inevitably be crawling across a screen at the bar, Nia will flirt with Brainy, Alex will stare and sigh at Sam all night, James and Mike will inevitably get at each other’s throats (how they manage to play on the same team without killing each other, Kara will never know), Mike will flirt with her and be hurt when she shoots him down, James will pull out his camera and take candids that Alex will doubtlessly demand to see and then delete immediately, and Kara will eventually wrangle them all into her minivan and drive them back to campus.

A typical Thirsty Thursday with her closest friends (and also Mike, for some reason).

Except that tonight, instead of Al’s, the dive they usually flock to, they’re at some martini bar downtown. And though the reasoning makes sense (Nia can’t really openly celebrate her 21st at the bar she’s been frequenting for the past 2 years with a fake ID), and it is her birthday and she wants to go someplace-

“Swanky,” Alex murmurs as Sam lets out a low whistle behind them.

This is barely a bar, it more closely resembles a set from a 30’s noir movie, with the large chandeliers dripping crystal overhead and the rich, polished wooden floor underfoot. For crying out loud, there’s a live jazz band- not a quartet, a full band- across what is clearly a dance floor, and the waiters and waitresses are all dressed in vests and ties (and not the cheap kind Kara had to wear for the week she worked at the catering company).

In short, it’s gorgeous, and glamorous, and she’s infinitely glad she’d asked Nia what she should wear because her usual jeans-and-a-sweater combo surely wouldn’t fly here, but the suit she wore to her cousin’s wedding this past summer definitely does.

They’re greeted by a friendly but slightly harangued-looking hostess, who quickly ushers their group to a large booth in the corner. Each of them peruses the drink menu, and quickly realize that they have no idea what any of the cocktails listed actually are.

"Yeah, great, this is- I love doing a Google search to get drunk," Alex grumbles sarcastically as she scrolls through her phone, pulling a face at something or other. "How many of these have absinthe in them? Jesus."

Kara laughs. "What, no green fairies for you tonight?"

"It was one time!"

"Aw, we still like you even though you're afraid of the mean, scary alcohol," Sam coos at Alex, smile tinged with an edge of teasing and Alex melts like so much wax before a flame.

Ridiculous. 

"Make out already," Nia jeers. When they both flip her off she turns to Kara, seemingly confused. "That was a legitimate suggestion, though?"

"I know. One day," Kara hums, throwing her arm around Nia’s shoulder and pulling her into a half-hug.

Their waiter appears, smooth and charming and managing to get Winn firmly under his spell in a matter of seconds. But in Winn's defense, he has a perfect smile, great hair, and a British accent.

Poor boy never stood a chance against all that. They each place their orders for a fancy drink, and when the waiter, Jack, turns his attention to Kara, Alex interrupts with, "She wants a Potion D'Amour."

"Oh, a love potion," he muses, smiling at Kara. His eyes catch on something and his smile widens. "I know just the lady to make it for you. Back in a tick."

And he's off before Kara can protest. Resigned, she turns to her sister. "Why?"

Alex rolls her eyes fondly. "Just take a sip. If you don't like it, one of us will finish it for you.”

“Fine, fine.”

--

So, as it turns out, Kara likes the love potion. A lot.

“It tastes like berries,” Kara marvels.

“We know, Kara, you told us when you were drinking the last one,” Alex chuckles.

“And the one before that,” Nia adds.

“You guys are so nice. I love you all so much.”

“Well at least she’s a happy drunk,” James chuckles.

“‘m not drunk,” Kara insists. “‘m always happy, ya butts.”

“Sure Kar, and the sky is red.”

Kara frowns as her friends all laugh. “Rude. Who wants another one?”

They all raise a hand, and Kara moves off in the general direction of the bar.

Or, well, she does her best.

“Hey there! Did you need something, luv?”

It’s Jack-the-waiter, looking at her with some bemusement.

“Yeah! Hi, sorry. Um, they all want more drinks, and I just, um…”

“Needed a break?”

She slumps in relief. “Yeah. Is that bad? Like, I love them and all, but I think I’m kinda drunk and they’re… a lot.”

Jack chuckles. “Trust me, I understand. If you want a minute of quiet, there’s a stool on the end of the bar that no one ever sits in. Got your name on it.”

“Thanks! You’re a very good waiter. Hey, d’you have any drink recommendations? Maybe one a little, um… lighter?”

“‘Course I do luv. Really fancy, too. C’mere, I’ll tell ya,” Jack says, motioning her close. When Kara is a few inches away, he tells her the secret. “It’s called ‘coffee’.”

Kara laughs as he winks and moves away to another table. She spots the empty barstool he’d mentioned and ambles over, dropping into it with a sigh. From here, she has a view of approximately nothing, given its location behind a pillar, and she leans back against the wall, the cool wood paneling chilly even through her jacket and shirt. 

“Long night?”

Kara’s eyes flutter open (when did they close? Maybe she is drunk…) and across from her is quite probably the most beautiful person she’s ever seen in her life.

“Wow.”

The girl smirks, quirking a brow upward. “You okay there?”

“Yeah. I um, I think I just had too many love potions.”

“Oh, so it was you ordering those,” the pretty, pretty girl drawls. “They’re a pain in the ass to make, you know. Mostly the garnish, but still, I’m tempted to be annoyed with you, for being so high-maintenance.”

“Oh, Jack said he knew the girl for the job!” Kara says. “They were really good, I usually don’t even drink, but those were great.”

“Well well, keep talking, I thrive on flattery,” the girl jokes. She extends a hand. “Lena.”

“Kara, Kara Danvers. Wow, your hands are big.”

Lena barks a delighted laugh. “You have all the subtlety of a hand grenade, Kara Danvers.”

Kara flushes. “Oh, that’s- wow, sorry.”

“You’re fine. Like I said, I thrive on flattery,” Lena says, throwing her a very cute two-eyed wink. She turns suddenly, fixing a polite, professional smile on her face. “Good evening, sir. What can I get for you?”

“Another round for my friends. And your number, gorgeous.”

Mike.

Lena remains polite, face impassive even as Kara hastily ducks out of sight under the bar. “What drinks did you and your friends have?”

“I dunno, fancy stuff. The waiter guy probably knows- my friend was supposed to come get us another round, but she probably bailed.”

“Oh yeah? Not much of a partier?” Lena asks, eyes darting to (hidden) Kara.

“Nah. Don’t get me wrong, Kara can be cool, but she’s a little… uptight. Needs to relax every once in a while.”

“Uh-huh.”

“So what’s your story, beautiful? You come here often?”

There’s a beat of silence before Lena drawls, “Well I work here, so… I’d have to say yes…”

Kara claps a hand over her mouth to muffle the laugh she can’t keep inside.

This obviously throws Mike off whatever game he thinks he has. “Oh, that- right. Um. That was a joke.”

“Of course, sir. I’ll ask your waiter what your order was- do you know who he is?”

“Um… he has a beard?”

“Jack, his name is Jack,” Kara mutters under her breath.

“Right. I’ll ask him. Did you need anything else?”

“No, thanks.”

There’s an extended silence before Lena says, “You can come up for air now, Kara Danvers.” 

Kara peeks over the edge of the bar, flushing again when Lena snickers at her.

“Good friend of yours?”

“No. He’s- I don’t even know why he’s here? Like one day we all hated him and then the next he was always around. Nia doesn’t even like him, and it’s her birthday.”

“Really? Good that she doesn’t- seems like a douche.”

Kara barks out a laugh, smothering in quickly and grinning behind her palm as Lena grins slyly over at her without turning her head. “He is a douche. He always asks me out even though I’ve told him no, like, a million times.”

Lena frowns at this, turning her attention fully to Kara. “Does he?”

“Yeah. My sister hates his guts, and so does our friend James, but somehow he just… sticks around.” Kara shrugs. “He’s pretty harmless, just really annoying.”

Lena hums, gaze narrowed. “He’s not worth your politeness, Kara.”

“Eh. Besides, I’m kinda doing the same thing to you, right? Just like, demanding all your attention?”

Lena bobbles her head side to side. “I’d say it’s a bit different.”

“Why, because I’m drunk?” Kara laughs. “‘m sorry about that, by the way.”

“First off, I don’t think you’re all that drunk,” Lena confides, leaning over the bar so . “Those drinks really aren’t all that strong. And secondly, there’s a difference because I am actually enjoying your attention, Kara Danvers.”

“Oh. Oh, okay. Cool,” Kara mutters to herself.

Lena smirks. “So, Kara Danvers- even though I already know the answer to this-, do you come here often?”

“Um, no. But I think I might start…”

Lena’s sly grin morphs into a broad smile, dimpling her cheeks and making her eyes shine in the low bar light. “Good.”

[ladylynse]

I'm not sure if the ghosts of hogwarts have been talked about but I think the ghosts at hogwarts, while kinda weak and generally stay away from the ghost zone(because they can't more likely) they still here things on the grape vine of ghost gossip and when danny shows up they all know exactly who/what he is, and love messing with him.

I imagine one of them yelling "hey! ghost boy!" To get his attention and Danny just barely managing not to react to it infront of other people.

(maybe malfoy usually looks at the ghost so he never sees danny's micro expressions and assume they mean Draco himself much to his confusion)

(what were your headcanons for the hogwarts ghosts in relation to danny?)

re: this AU

The ghosts of Hogwarts might not interfere overmuch with the world of the living, but I do think they’d keep tabs on the dead as best they could, which would eventually include word of Danny. So, yes, even though it can go either way, I’d be more inclined to write it where they know who he is (or at least what he is, if they can recognize his ties to the Ghost Zone but not know everything he’s done)--especially if the twin AU is incorporated with the ghost king AU, but also just because it’s more fun if they know. It gives Danny another resource if he needs it--I mean, info from the ghosts would probably come in handy sooner rather than later--and, like you said, if they don’t all decide to act with discretion, it puts Danny under more pressure.

I mean. You mentioned Moaning Myrtle in your other ask, and she most definitely would amuse herself, particularly if Danny is trying very, very hard to keep his secret. And Peeves? Danny might very well try bribery with him, but he likely wouldn’t get any peace until he did something to earn Peeves’s respect (even if or perhaps especially if this is also ghost king AU). But the Grey Lady might not look twice at him if she’s determined not to get involved, and that Fat Friar might remind Danny more of the Dairy King than anyone else--friendly but harmless. The Bloody Baron might be surprisingly warm towards him--even for a Slytherin or especially since he’s not, depending on if Danny’s attending Hogwarts for more than just a visit and is sorted into a house--or oddly protective, since I could see him arguing (outside of Helena’s earshot) that they’re justified in interfering because this boy is tied to their world as well. I think Nick would be most helpful if Danny wound up sorted into Gryffindor, and by helpful I mean most willing to interfere because Danny might not always want or need the help, but he’d be willing to step up regardless. (He wouldn’t admit to agreeing with the Bloody Baron, but he also feels they’re able to get involved in all this, whatever it turns out being.) Professor Binns would simply be delighted that a student (he’d assume Danny is a student even if that’s not the case) is interested enough in history to ask questions after class, though it would probably take Danny a while to get the information he wanted.

I think, as far as Danny would be concerned, they’re ghosts whose ties to the Ghost Zone are weak, and that’s why they can’t become tangible (that he’s seen) or otherwise display much more in terms of power beyond flying, intangibility, and invisibility. But since their default state is intangible, he might also wonder if the magic in this place is affecting them somehow--because they aren’t the first ghosts of people he’s met, so he wouldn’t think they’re just a different kind of ghost. He’d be more invested in all of this in the ghost king AU, obviously, but I still think he’d be curious in the twin AU. If nothing else, if this type of magic messes with ghostly abilities, he needs to know. The last thing he needs is to get weaker by sticking around, especially if he’s figuring out how to make things better for Draco.

Now, if the ghosts didn’t bite their tongues and blithely called Danny ‘ghost boy’ at every opportunity? Draco is smart enough to figure out they have to be referring to Danny sooner rather than later. They’ve never called him that before, never called anyone that before, and the only thing that’s changed is Danny. That being said, I think he’d accept Danny’s ready-made lie: that it’s because he was raised a Fenton and was thus raised on ghost lore and around ghosts (Draco probably doesn’t know the ghost problem in Amity Park is relatively recent). Draco might suspect the lie, to be fair. He’s been raised to watch for them, and Danny’s a rather terrible liar because he’s never needed to be particularly good. But Draco’s also trying to build a relationship with a twin brother he doesn’t really know, and trusting him to tell the truth about something that Draco can’t otherwise explain is a step towards that. If Draco doesn’t know enough to call Danny on it and doesn’t want to ruin their budding sibling relationship, he’d just file it away for later.

That lie might not be enough to put off Hermione or anyone else willing to do some digging, Lucius included if he catches wind of it, but it would be a start.

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS | CHAPTER 1

Rating: Explicit. 18+

‼️TW: Reader is EIGHTEEN! Recreational drug use, smoking and alcohol consumption, deeply internalised self-loathing, very questionable moral standards. Daddy kink taken half-seriously. BDSM themes in later chapters - explicit content will come with it's own TWs. FIRST PERSON POV.

Summary: You're Peter's classmate, a child of rich and famous but uncaring parents. Getting paired up for a lengthy project with the boy was an interesting turn of events and you don't know whether to feel blessed or cursed when you develop, seemingly, a perfectly normal, harmless crush on Tony Stark. Fueled by feelings of inadequacy and boredom, your life spirals out of control - and you're lucky your newfound friends are there to pick up the pieces even if you cannot find it in yourself to believe these amazing human (and not so human) beings voluntarily give you more than a fleeting glance and an offhanded thought. And they brought cake!

A/N: Bad girls are sad girls! Always wondered what goes through the mind of a spoiled, rich but intelligent and perceptive teenager? Have you found yourself craving that adrenaline rush, the danger of a forbidden fruit? Okay. That was cheesy as hell. Gross.

Let's try again. Sarcasm? Check. Vine references? Hell yes! Crude humour? Check. Blunt honesty? Double check. We're living in a Lana del Rey song, ladies.

The author doesn't actually condone codependent relationships in real life. This is a filthy little fantasy. Enjoy, deviants.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub​ @mostly-marvel-musings​

Beta read by the lovely and patient @miscmarvelwritings ! She deserves all the love 💙

Pining. I was pining after Stark and it made me upset. I thought I was better than that. Better than acting the part of a lovesick puppy, begging for scraps of attention- a kind word, a pat on the shoulder, a blanket thrown over me in my sleep. Even if he was my Mount Olympus, I wasn't exactly on board with starting the whole damn journey in the first place.

Most of all, I hated being a cliché. I tried my best to avoid showing how I felt and with time, I think I excelled at it. I am really good with things if I really put my mind to it. Was it a blessing, or was it a curse? Only the future will tell. I try not to think about it, as I prefer not to stress out too much. Peter was the anxious kid and I was the calm one. I was the Ying to his Yang. He flipped his shit often and I always calmed him down and cleaned up after him. No complaints there, Pete is pure and precious and I would kill everybody and then myself if he actually got hurt.

I'm only a year older than him and that year feels like an uncrossable bridge to me. We get along like a house on fire and I delight in the way he starts smiling when we're paired together for a project. Deep inside I'm sure he thinks of me as one of his best friends, his homies but-and there's always a but-I can't reciprocitate that. He goes to decathlon after school with his wholesome BFF duo, I go to a local dive bar with a fake ID I'd made sometime when I was about 15.

Peter has everything I wish I've ever had. Good for him. I'm not going to mess that up, no matter how much my angst demands I throw a tantrum and become, like, a supervillain or something.

I banter, instead. I chit-chat. I laugh and I repeatedly make a joke out of myself. Nobody suspects a thing, and I'm not surprised. People always see what they want to see. I've been the weird loner since middle school. Not the sad kind, of course, my pride wouldn't let me. I'm too good at things to be completely ignored. Teachers adore me, the event planning committee approaches me every year with tentative pleas for advice. The list goes on and on; what they don't understand is that it's just High School. Another year and I'll be out of there and nobody will be wiser.

I feel like a liar every time I'm excited. Because I'm not that - I don't care about their stupid field trips or collaborative projects. My mind is five steps and two hops ahead of that bullshit. It has to be or I just won't make it in the world.

"Parker-pen, Mr. Stark. G'day, sirs," I nodded, entering the lab, looking straight ahead. They both were hunched over... Something vaguely mechanical and I was terribly, horribly hungover. Saturday night was Science night but I'd gone to bed around 2PM after a party ran way too late.

"Hi," and "Powerpuff girl," came from them respectively, and they didn't even lift their heads.

I wondered if I could just skedaddle and leave them to their big brain time. "Is this a bad time? I can come tomorrow instead," I immediately regretted speaking, even to my own ears my voice sounds scratchy.

"No, actually, Dr. Ban-Bruce-wanted to talk to you," Peter mumbled out half-coherently. Tony kept ignoring me and I was fine with that. The less temptation I have the less trouble there will be.

"I'm not playing with his zucchini again," I groaned, causing the intricate pile of metal to squeak sadly as Pete tripped over his own damn body, jostling the prototype in the process. I could have sworn the room got several degrees hotter from the boy's blush alone.

Tony cackled, shuffling away from the newly ruined prototype. "He won the damn contest, you should've seen the judges faces," The engineer's grin threatened to split his face in half. I poked at my phone in muted interest. "Hold up, Friday has a recording. I definitely recorded the thing."

A holo-screen popped up. Tranquil scenes of a local fair, gourds and other assorted vegetables of various grotesque sizes were scattered throughout the square. An unmistakable mop of curly greying hair posed proudly next to a zucchini half the size of Hulk - I was fairly certain genetically engineering the plant was cheating and warned him so but somehow Banner managed to persuade the judges into letting him participate, and ultimately win, the competition for the Biggest Zucchini. Some of them were quite shocked at the size of that thing and well - well, their glances were quite contemplative to say the least.

"Damn, Tony, that blonde chick's face tells me all I need to know," I gave a lopsided smirk in the engineer's general direction. That was our thing, you see? He called me these ridiculous cutesy nicknames and asked me about getting my nails done or going to the mall and I'd make salacious comments and go on an occasional flirtatious spree. That was comfortable. We both enjoyed making Peter blush and giggle like the little schoolboy that he was.

"Our Brucie bear is a freak, don't let him tell you any different, Princess," Tony winked at me.

"Oh, I know all about it, Tones," I suggestively wiggled my eyebrows. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Peter groan and palm his face. I briefly bumped my knuckles to Tony's outstretched hand and made my way to the adjacent lab that hosted the second resident crazy scientist.

"Bruce?"

"Oh, hi there, come on in," He smiled warmly at me and I relaxed, shrugging off the tension in my limbs that seemed to appear every time Tony was around me. Banner's soft, friendly nature always made me feel welcomed and appreciated.

We made small talk as I threw on a lab coat and some protective glasses and discarded my bag in the far corner, away from any possible explosions. I congratulated him on his recent victory - here is when I say that despite what most will say, Banner has a serious competitive mean streak and isn't afraid to get down and dirty when it comes to matters of his personal pride.

That's what makes us alike, I think. I have too much dignity and self-respect to walk around Tony with stars in my eyes and hang around his neck like yesterday's tie.

The quiet, even pace of doing lab work made me completely lose track of time. Some time passed as I felt the crick in my neck become noticeable, and the deep ache in my calves from standing and dancing yesterday worsened. I hopped onto the nearest table, hunched over a tablet, eyes skimming over research articles - most of it didn't register at all in the wake of a dull throb behind my temples. My hair limply hung over my face - I had to wash it to get rid of the stench-hard liquor and cigarettes - but I was way too lazy to style it properly.

I ignored the swaying strands until a large palm gently tucked them behind my ear, a white lab coat coming into my field of view. "You okay?" Banner's quiet voice interrupted my reading. I lifted eyes enough to see he was wearing a dorky button-up in some gross shade of blue under the lab coat. His eyes were affectionate behind thinly rimmed glasses.

"Rough Friday night?" He questioned.

I chuckled. "Yeah, I'm hungover as fuck." There was no point in hiding the obvious; I'm sure the bags under my eyes already had tattled on me.

He chuckled, too, leaning his hip against the table, one broad arm coming to wrap around me in a hug. Usually he wasn't so touchy-feely; but I wasn't complaining. Banner was really, really warm. "I'll spare you the lecture on underage drinking," He said with another chuckle.

"Yeah, it's pretty pointless. You'd be three years too late."

A deep sigh left him, both of his arms wrapping around me in a comfortable embrace. I rested my chin on his shoulder, trying my best to really avoid showing how touch-starved I was. I was a hundred percent sure they all figured out my family life was difficult; the last thing I needed was their pity.

"Y'know, we should sit down and talk someday," He said after a brief moment of hesitation. "About your future. College, maybe?"

I gave a non-committal hum, basking in the warmth of the hug, staring straight ahead with unseeing eyes - behind the glass divide, I could faintly distinguish Tony's and Peter's shapes, still bent over that bench the pile of metal.

"You have a lot of potential," Banner continued, his tone developing a gently admonishing hint. "I understand if you want to take some time off from your studies but I'd rather you succeed and not let all that potential go to waste," He finished, patting me on the back with a gentle hand.

I tried not to preen under his touch. "Are you attempting to guilt-trip me over a party, doctor Banner?" I teased him, expecting the smile that I felt being hidden by my hair. Sometimes I felt that I could read the man like an open book, he was so earnest about his interactions.

"I just - we want you to stay safe, okay? Don't blow your future for a little bit of fun," He shrugged carefully.

"Okay, Bruce," I simply replied, meaning it this time

He kept hugging me, running his hand over my back absentmindedly. Probably thinking about his recent science bender. I wasn't upset: my own brain tended to get tangled in personal projects, too. I had only one complaint and it was that the cuddle was making me sleepy.

I yawned, startling the man. Pulling away from the hug wasn't really an option. He was broad and quite strong, probably courtesy of the Hulk and radiation in his blood.

"Why don't we put you in a guest room for tonight?" He inquired and I nodded. "Call your parents for me, okay?"

"My mother is in Vancouver for the week and I doubt she would care anyway," I rolled my eyes. "She's in the middle of some shitstorm with OsCorp and their marketing department." If anything, I was grateful my mother was preoccupied with her job. Being around her was like hanging out on top of an iceberg in the far end of the ocean.

I felt Bruce's frown. His body tensed briefly, blink and you'll miss the hunch of his shoulders. "What about your dad?"

I cringed. "He's been in Ibiza since the season opened, no doubt snorting miles of coke and... " I hesitated. "You can guess the rest."

My dad was kind of a dick, but I don't blame him at all for being the way he is. My parents have been married for twenty years. They were happy, once - I saw their college pictures with my mother's bright smiles and bushy hair, and my dad's terrible fashion sense and their dog, a funny little runt with an atrocious name. Then mother had me and for a while, they were happy too, but it lasted about until she landed her first prospective job. Kind of cliché.

Bruce sighed again. "Okay. You hungry?"

"No, I'm not going near food until tomorrow. Nu-uh," I fake-retched next to his ear, making Bruce shiver and playfully pinch my side.

"It'll help with your hangover. Doctor's advice."

"You're not even that kind of doctor," I laughed, very gently poking him back, somewhere around his stomach. He squirmed.

"I have seven PhDs," Bruce smiled as he rested his chin on top of my head as he adjusted his torso to prevent my fingers from reaching his ticklish spots. I poked him again in retaliation, fully enjoying the snort and squirm I caused. Soft™. "Let's go get you settled in," Bruce, seemingly without any difficulty, picked me up, propping me against his hip like a toddler. It probably looked awkward but what the hell, I haven't been carried around since I can remember myself. My legs wrapped around his hips for balance, butt resting on his forearm.

"You're a showoff," I couldn't help but snort, getting a lopsided smirk in return.

He made his way over to the elevator with me dangling and examining my nails in an expectant fashion. Tony's jokes aside, I really enjoyed getting them done and weird colors were a quest of entertainment for me. I obviously couldn't have them very long because I worked in a lab so I chose outrageous prints and decorations instead. This week, each of my nails had a different style - thankfully my aesthetician was professional enough to make it look somewhat put together even if it took a good chunk of my allowance and an hour long Uber ride to get to her salon.

I noticed the dimmed lights in Tony's lab and none of Peter's usual mess scattered on the tables, figuring he'd already left. Stark himself stood propped against a table, watching something, smoothie in hand.

For only a brief moment, I let my eyes rake over his body, his beautiful, sculpted physique hugged by a pair of fitted jeans and an old Led Zeppelin tee. Tony's handsomeness wasn't obvious, it wasn't in-your-face kind of appearance like Captain America's, but the engineer was built sturdy and his arms - the only bare part of him - were riddled with scars. He used his strong, bulky body for work.

I turned away before I got too ahead of myself. Bruce smelled like lab equipment and rubbing alcohol, something that made me sober up and snap out of my daydream before Stark took notice and started teasing me about ogling him. My once-over lasted barely three seconds yet with Tony's genius, I always had to be on my toes.

I saw movement in my peripheral. Banner waved before entering the elevator - at Tony, probably, so I looked back, seeing the man watching us, content replaced with a contemplating frown. I waved at him, resting my cheek on Bruce's shoulder. "Tony's having a big mood," I noted quietly in the scientist's ear.

"You know Tony," Bruce sighed, adjusting his hold on me as the car ascended to the housing floors. "His brain runs a mile a minute and he can't make sense of it for the biggest part. Give him some time and he'll be back to his annoying self."

I didn't see Tony as annoying in any way, but then again, I was severely biased. The billionaire was quirky venturing into absurd but also clever and brilliant.

We had reached our destination and Bruce carefully set me down on my feet once the door to my room was open. A large queen bed, TV and another door to an adjacent bathroom. It was really simple but luxurious nonetheless - I had the exact same carpet at home, having heard my mother bitch about it's cost after seeing me spill soda on it way too many times.

"I'll let you get settled in. Ask Friday if you need something," Bruce awkwardly shuffled his feet, taking off his glasses and briefly examining them before putting them back on again. "Breakfast here is on the 74th floor starting around 7AM, someone will probably get you around nine if you sleep in," He finished, giving a shy tilt of his lips.

"Thanks, Brucie-bear," The nickname easily slipped from my lips. I didn't resist the urge to hug the kind scientist, quickly wrapping my arms around his middle, delightfully sighing when he immediately returned the gesture.

"Good night, Princess," I had to suppress a happy squeak when the man kissed my forehead before retreating and closing the door behind himself. A quick shower and a quest to find a power outlet to plug my charger into preceded my less than graceful flop into the bed. It felt like sleeping on a cloud, honestly, it had nothing on my mother's orthopaedic memory foam mattresses. I passed out faster than I’d ever had.

[writing-fool]

mlqc | let’s hit rewind

What kind of videos would the MLQC guys make if they were YouTubers? I think this is a youtube!au, but to be fair, Kiro probably has a YouTube channel in canon. See it as you will? I won’t really talk about their life outside of YT/internet so you can decide for yourself whether this is an AU or not, and whether they’re a full-time YouTuber or not.

As always, enjoy, and requests are open!

Love,

R.

Warning(s): none

Victor

Victor probably has a cooking channel

scratch that. he absolutely starts as one of those Aesthetic™ cooking channels like Cooking tree, HANSE, Sweet The MI or Nino’s Home.

his channel is called Souvenir because he’s not THAT original you can’t expect everything from a man, people. 

he starts off doing these voiceless cooking videos, but after a voice and face reveal at 2 million followers where he cooks something for his followers as a thanks...well, who wouldn’t want more of that sultry voice and glorious face

currently has about 4 million subscribers

Victor’s channel is kind of comparable to Junskitchen, a rather relaxed, casual atmosphere combined with exquisite, refined cuisine

if he feels like it, he does a voice-over, otherwise he just puts calm jazz, blues or r&b over his cooking

HAS done an ASMR special. low-key dislikes the video because he has to whisper voice-overs but people LOVE it

likes making all kinds of foods, but his channel features quite a lot of sweet foods and desserts because a certain dummy has a sweet tooth

a pretty popular feature during quarantine is Cooking w/ Sou, essentially a live stream where Sou (aka Victor) cooks a whole three-course meal while talking to and instructing his followers

his subscribers notice that he doesn’t really need editing to look clean during cooking because his technique is IMMACULATE

by the end, he’s made a themed dinner for two...which always raises a question mark

is Sou single? does he have a roommate? a girlfriend? a kid? WHAT?

after getting your explicit permission, Victor addresses the situation in one of his recent Q&As

“Why do I always make dinner for two? I have a fiancée, she edits my videos in her spare time. She works as a producer. *you wave your hand over the lens* Dummy.” he breezes over it like it’s no big deal even though he’s a tad nervous about exposing something personal like this

his fans blow up the internet, baffled but not entirely surprised that someone like Sou isn’t a bachelor

of course, some leave hate under the video honestly, people who do this to celebs who start dating are HORRIBLE

most subscribers are super supportive of your relationship and thank you for the editing that makes Souvenir such a well put-together channel...also did he seriously call his fiancée a dummy? such a tsundere!

sometimes, you’ll (well, your hands...we’re keeping a bit of privacy here) even be in the end shot of videos, munching away at the carefully plated food

one day, Sou will be making a video titled Wedding Cake.

Lucien

Lucien’s channel LucidLight is a tad bit all over the place

he’s a man of many talents, and his channel reflects just that

i’m not saying it’s a disorganized channel, because the theme is very much there - the uniform theme in Luci’s content is a cozy background, a cup of tea and a soothing thumbnail

i mean that content-wise, his subscribers don’t really know what they’re going to get next...he has a slightly similar style to the YouTuber simon plant 

his content varies from interesting science theories to poetry reading sessions to ASMR to painting/sketching to cooking and much, much more

he has an heavenly soothing, smooth voice. it’s his trademark since Lucien doesn’t show his face on camera. ever. 

doesn’t have a TON of subs, because his channel is a bit of a niche thing, but I’d say he has 1,2 million subscribers and 400k followers on his added ‘business’ Instagram

he holds a lot of live streams on Instagram/YouTube (i know Moments exists in the game, but that’s more like a Facebook or Twitter kind of app...) and is always shown with just his torso and neck in frame. the lives usually include some poetry reading and generally just having a nice, relaxing chat with his followers. they can last up to 5 hours at once, and YOU know it’s because he doesn’t need sleep like a normal human being, but his fans are still asking questions about his timezone

his subscribers are strangely fascinated by his mysterious, gentle nature and also incredibly obsessed with his large, elegant hands

his ASMR videos are often roleplays of Librarian Lucien or Professor Lucien explaining to people why their rest is important

other times, they include soft affirmations, positive whispers, finger fluttering, hair touching and maybe kissing sounds...

Lucien paints a lot too, although he works primarily with ink and pencil sketches. you’ll find a watercolour or oil painting somewhere, but they’re not his most prominent media

his art videos are usually silent, although he might say something once in a while. there’s always some type of solo instrumental music playing in the background.

he does educational videos about biology and universe theories, but will also have reading sessions about scientific books

not intentionally secretive about your relationship, but he’s not one to mention it either

the first time you appeared on screen was when he was doing another live stream. he’s in his office talking about a play, when you come padding in to bid him goodnight.

“Yes, indeed. Laura’s glass menagerie, as the play suggests, is a symbol of fragility. Laura herself is very frail, but her favourite—”

“Good night, darling.” your soft voice rings through the room. viewers see Lucien’s torso turning a little bit, a hand on his shoulder and a curtain hair appearing from the top of the screen. his hand moves, presumably to cup the person’s cheek, before a soft kiss is heard through the mic. “Sleep tight, my love,” he murmurs.

“Ah. Laura’s favourite glass figurine is the unicorn, which...”

people are in uproar, but Lucien is a strong-willed man who refuses to explicitly announce the nature of his relationship.

his subscribers stop asking after a while, because it really isn’t any of their business, and they now know Lucien’s a taken man

you kind of appear on live streams accidentally a couple more times, but nothing’s really changed about Lucien’s content

the only thing he WILL say, and this is purely to give you credit, is “Ah. The background instrumentals in my art videos are played live. Yes, my lover’s very talented.”

you guys are the mysterious, talented, soft-voiced power couple of YouTube

Gavin

Gavin’s channel probably starts as a joint channel with you, something like Rachel and Jun

it’s relatively obvious from the start that Gavin from Birds&Cops is in a relationship, since you guys have a vlogging-style channel

your channel is filled with gym vlogs, travel vlogs to other countries and a lot of self-defence and sport at home videos. 

you guys also post a lot of funny vlogs talking about your day, going on fun dates, of course food vlogs in restaurants, all that stuff...

you often sit down and talk about your life, and maybe you’ll even do a mukbang during it for someone so fit, Gavin does eat a lot of food. 

Gavin’s channel didn’t blow up right away, because vlogging channels aren’t exactly unique, and he looks like the typical ‘straight boy with a girlfriend’

but he started gaining followers after people noticed how cute and blushy he acts, and how incredibly respectful and caring he is towards you

one of the most popular videos is Boyfriend Does My Makeup and it’s adorable. Gavin’s handling your face with so much care, and comments like “I know what this is, I’ve watched you do it many times.” or “Babe, does it hurt? Should I be more gentle? I’m sorry...my hands are rough.” make everyone SWOON

toxic masculinity left the chat. Gavin loves taking care of you in any way, whether it’s getting pads, chocolate and hot packs during your period or braiding your hair

in those yoga/celebrity fitness routine challenges, subs get to see Gavin in a tight singlet and sweatpants/shorts, and it’s HOLY

you’re very much aware of the attention Gavin receives from female fans, and how lucky you are to have found such a sweet partner

Gavin will usually see this type of comment while scrolling and will turn to you and go “Babe, you know I’m the lucky one here, right?”

anyways, a feature that you do to show fans the extent of Gavin’s sweet personality is Pranking My Boyfriend, where you set up the camera for a harmless prank like pretending to have a nightmare (similar to channels like Farina Jo)

that particular video was so fun to shoot, because it ended up with Gavin softly singing a lullaby to calm you down in his arms

“Baby, wake up. I’m here, you’re safe.” Gavin knows how to deal with panicking people, but he hates this prank afterwards because ‘he didn’t like seeing you in pain’

fans squealed. Birds&Cops gained like 50k subs through that video. the channel’s currently at 999k subscribers

overall, it’s just a really lovely, family-friendly channel

Kiro

Kiro knows his way around the web, alright?

not even just as Key, but he’s had a YouTube channel since the age of 15

his channel, CtrlAltChips is a hit with many people of many, many ages

he streams gaming sessions on Twitch and posts them on his YouTube channel afterwards

other content includes (primarily) covers & original songs, simple talking videos, thrifting & fashion videos, mukbangs and candid dance videos in a studio

think of chloe moriondo, doddleoddle, Victor the Drum Destroyer and Cat Strat

alternatively, for the ARMYs here, think of Jeon Jungkook as a YouTuber

Kiro has about 18 million subscribers, which is A LOT, but he’s been on YouTube for 7 years and he’s made a name for himself as a super likeable and bubbly guy with an angelic voice and killer moves

you’d think he’s just a cute boy when he sings acoustic covers, but his dance moves suggest that he’s not THAT cute

also how does he stay so fit with all those snack mukbangs?

he has a segment named In Our Kloset where he talks about social issues (because our boy uses his platform for good) around the world while customizing (not just pins. we’re talking patches, sewing, painting, embroidery) thrifted clothing to his liking. at the end he holds a little fashion show with his new outfits

after a while, you’ll see many of his outfits in giveaways or on sale for charity. Kiro tries to give back to his fans as much as he can, and how better than by sharing a piece of his unique clothing with them?

a great singer and performer. has held actual concerts before and has an actual music career (author-nim leaves it up to you readers to decide whether this is his idol career or some other musical project)

keeps his private life PRIVATE. he knows how the internet works, and he knows there’s no way he can keep your relationship a secret forever, but he’s not about to expose it to the world because of that reason

keeps tabs on information or rumours regarding you and makes them vanish

he’s simultaneously the most open and the most secretive out of the four boys. his fans know his favourite colour, what type of underwear he wears (trunks. Kiro wears trunks.), his birthday,...

but they know nothing about his past, his location, his close social circle or his family (teeechnically he’s an orphan but ig we’re talking about his mentor here. the blood of the covenant blah blah blah...y’know?). Kiro protects his loved ones fiercely

for someone who’s kept so secret, you’re actually really involved in Kiro’s virtual persona. you’re usually behind the camera during his In Our Kloset videos and are in charge of extra research regarding topics so he doesn’t spread any misinformation 

you also give pointers during filming (of course, these bits are edited out) because Kiro tends to trail off and get distracted when sewing

another way you’re involved is setting up the food during mukbangs. you have a great sense of aesthetics, so all of his videos in general will go through you.

while you like being low-key in Kiro’s life, you don’t want him to feel like he has to protect you from all the hate. 

he doesn’t particularly love keeping you a secret either, and it makes him feel guilty because he doesn’t want you to think he’s ashamed of you. he could never be.

you guys give it a good chat over how you’re going to announce it, and he just ends up making a video titled Miss Chips where the two of you sit down and talk to the camera

“Hello my little chips! Uhm, as you can see, there’s someone sitting next to me today. Maybe you already guessed from the title, but this is...my girlfriend, Miss Chips,” cue the cute jazz hands in your direction, “We’ve been dating for a long, loooong time, right, Miss Chips?”

“I just wanted to share this with you guys, since it felt wrong to keep such an important person in my life private. I hope you’re all kind to her, because I love her dearly, even to the point of giving up my snacks...so it’s serious.”

it really is that serious, hm?

Hope you enjoyed reading! 

[dulce-pjm]

caffeine crush

word count: 4.3k 

genre: fluff, coffee shop!au

summary: all it took was one trip to the cafe to cement a friendship you never wanted. but it’s high time you fess up and call it all off. 

Yes, you’d picked up the habit last August, you’re certain. 

Classes had yet to start but, growing tired of your overbearing family, you decided to head back to campus a week or two early and get a head start while the university was still mostly empty. 

You didn’t exactly get a ton of work done, but those few weeks were relaxing. Cleansing, even. You spent your mornings wandering around campus and the surrounding area, soaking in the summer sun. Your afternoons were spent curled up in a comfy chair in the corner of the library, nose deep in a romance novel. You found yourself eating better, exploring the city and finding new activities and niche locations. At this point, you thought you would make an excellent tour guide if someone hired you. You knew nearly every corner of the blocks surrounding the university. You’d made it a game to leave no stone unturned, memorizing the storefronts and seeing what hole-in-the-wall restaurants and shops you would find next. 

You were playing just this game when you met Seokjin.

It’s not like you particularly liked coffee. It’s always been much too bitter for your taste. No amount of sugar or cream or pumpkin syrup made the drink worth it to you. 

But you set your personal preferences aside for the mission. How could you give coffee shop recommendations to your imaginary tour group if you’d never tried them out yourself?

And it was with that mentality that you tentatively stepped inside the near-hidden cafe, door chiming as you made your entrance. 

The minute you walked in, you fell in love with the atmosphere. The place was well ventilated and cool, perfect for someone like you who preferred to keep the thermostat at ‘obscenely low temperatures,’ as your sister would say. The walls were coated with muted mints and greens. Draping plants decorated the wooden shelves scattered across the far wall and the soft jazz playing over the speakers made you feel relaxed. A large chalkboard menu hung behind the counter, fresh flowers sat by the cash register. The smell of coffee grounds was undeniably comforting and potent, despite your general dislike for the drink. 

This place was perfect. You could imagine your friends applauding your efforts now, praising you for managing to stumble on such an amazing hideout, tucked away from the chaos of university campus yet still within easy walking distance. 

The cafe was almost completely empty, save for a couple about your age camped out at a corner table. You barely paid them any attention except to be jealous of their closeness as they giggled over something on the girl’s phone. 

You approached the counter, curiously vacant of any employees. You looked left, you looked right. But no one appeared. 

The couple, too absorbed in their own world, did nothing to aid you as you stood helpless in the middle of the abandoned store. You gave it a good ten seconds before you felt much too awkward standing here all alone and gave up, turning to leave. 

And just as you did, you heard a collection of scuffles coming from the back and a door swing open with a creak. 

“Oh, I am so sorry. One of our frothers broke and made a huge mess.” You spun around. And your jaw dropped. 

Before you stood the most godly man you’d ever seen. 

The first thing that caught your eye was tufts of soft lavender hair, shining under the cool vintage lights. His eyes were wide and dark and warm, making you shift on your feet when they focused on you. His shoulders were broad and wrapped in a thin, cream turtleneck despite the warm weather. You practically drooled when you caught sight of his lips, full and soft pink.

He looked just like every male romantic lead you’d read about in your spare time. A purple-haired prince charming. A knight in his shining, corporate-regulated apron. 

“Were you waiting long?” His friendly voice snapped you from your daze before your thoughts could roam further to his muscles and chest and-

“No, not at all.” Could he tell you’d just been ogling? You really hoped not. 

“Good, good.” He shoots you a relieved smile that has your knees shaking. “Well, what can I get for you?” 

Shit, he was pretty. The slope of his nose and jaw and the swell of his cheekbones looked like they’d been crafted by god himself. Not that you were particularly religious, but after this encounter, you mused that maybe one day you could be. 

You were already fantasizing about the future the two of you could forge together. Stolen kisses, cuddles by the tv, a cozy house full of little purple-haired kids. His pillowy soft lips looked awfully inviting. You wondered what it’d be like to lean onto the tips of your toes and press your lips on his, to run your fingers through his hair, to-

“Uh, is there something I can get for you?” 

Shit. You’d been caught red-handed. 

“Oh! Um... uh...” You couldn’t focus. The words on the menu were suddenly too blurry as your tunnel vision zoomed in on him and only him. “A latte! A latte is fine.”

Seokjin smiled sweetly, making your stomach flutter. 

“You got it! Just a sec.” He spun away, running back and forth between the different contraptions that look more like convoluted machines from a sci-fi movie than coffee-related appliances. 

You were still trying to collect yourself when his hand brushed yours as he passed your drink across the counter. A shiver ran unwelcomed down your spine. You barely managed to fork over a few bills when the man shook his head adamantly.

“I made you wait. This one’s on the house.”

God, he was hot and nice? How?

“Oh, thanks...” Your eyes found the small name tag pinned to his blue apron. “Seokjin.” He grinned, his eyes crinkling adorably. 

“Not a problem. See you around.” He said it like the two of you were friends and not strangers. Like he was going to miss you when you walked out the door. 

You felt his gaze on your back as you left the tiny shop, bells chiming as went. 

You knew you’d be coming back. 

And come back you did. 

You’d reasoned that it wasn’t because of Seokjin, no, of course not! You liked the cafe, it was quiet and there was plenty of room to study. 

Oh, who were you kidding? It was totally because of Seokjin. The cafe was nice, you guess, but you don’t even like coffee! Rather, you used your time spent in the shop half actually doing your work and half staring at Seokjin and letting your mind wander. It was a stress reliever, really. A guilty pleasure, to bask in his glory. 

It was a harmless habit. You got your work done and got to stare at an angel sent from heaven, and Seokjin had extra business bolstering his paycheck when you dragged your friends with you to camp out at the cafe. 

It was harmless. 

Until you’d spent the better part of four months somewhat stalking him and now he knew your face. 

So when a certain someone tapped you on the shoulder in January as you settled down for the first day of class, you really should have known this would happen. 

“Hi!” he’d exclaimed, taking the seat next to you before you could protest, not that you wanted to. “I didn’t know you were a student here.” 

It was Seokjin. Hot barista from the coffee shop, Seokjin. In your class. Talking directly to you. Except now, he’d traded his purple locks for warm brunette ones. It didn’t take away from his appeal at all though. It made him seem boyish and younger, suiting him well. 

“Oh, hi...” You were at a loss for words. Never in your life did you think that Seokjin attended your university, let alone would be taking the same classes as you. Wouldn’t you have seen him by now? How did this slip under your radar?

“Y/N, right?” His smile widened when you nodded, confirming his suspicions. 

The professor walked in a moment later, informing you all that the person next to you would be your partner for all projects for the rest of the semester. Your stomach dropped to the floor

And from then on, Seokjin was your friend. 

You’d done your best to fight it, to resist him but you were only pulled deeper and deeper. 

Before then, the line of acquaintanceship was defined, set in stone. You knew his name, sure, but only because of the context of the situation. You had no reason to talk to him, to know him. And he had no reason to remember you. 

But once he confirmed your name, claimed the seat next to you, expressed excitement at being your partner (because he’d seen how studious you were at the shop, he said- and what a lie that was), the line had been crossed and blurred. He made a point to smile at you every time you arrived to class, to ask you how your day was going and if you were planning on stopping by the cafe any time soon.

It didn’t take long, however, for fantasy Seokjin to crumble before your eyes. Your dashing prince charming turned out to actually be a gluttonous man-child. Long gone were the days of your innocent crush on him. No longer could you sit and daydream about his perfect self when you were watching him pig out on take-out dumplings and listening to the most cringe-worthy jokes you’d heard in your life. 

“So I was at this vegetarian restaurant, right?” You nodded, only half paying attention as you made final edits to your presentation on Nordic traditions. “And this girl comes up to me and starts to tell me how I’d done her so wrong and she was finally standing up for herself.” 

At that point you were interested, allowing yourself to watch his dramatics rather than your laptop screen. Was Seokjin secretly an asshole? A heart breaker? God, this couldn’t be farther from how you’d imagined him months ago. 

“But the thing is-” He paused, meeting your eyes to make sure you were fully paying attention, which you were. “I’d never even seen herbivore!”

A fully offended sound left your throat as Seokjin burst into squeaky, boisterous laughter at the disgusted expression on your face. 

You couldn’t even bring yourself to fake laugh. That joke was absolutely dreadful. 

See, this is normally when relationships- dating and friendship alike- started to go downhill for you. You were much too idealistic. You set certain expectations for anyone and everyone before you ever laid eyes on them. And when they didn’t meet those expectations, it was easy for you to lose interest. Once you realized that they weren’t the person you’d hoped they’d be, you realized you’d never really liked them at all. You’d just gotten too caught up in your head, too captivated by your own imagination to recognize that you were walking into something you didn’t want.  

Seokjin, though, was different. He’d been drastically far from your expectations, absolutely. But instead of that eventual feeling of self-directed bitterness and regret for setting yourself up for failure, you felt guilty. Overwhelmed with guilt and shame, actually. Even if he had an awful sense of humor, Seokjin was great. He was kind and charming and teasing and thoughtful and earnest. He was genuine. 

Yes, if there was one word to describe Seokjin, it was genuine. But if you had to add a few more words, they would be ‘too fucking nice.’

When you were about to be keeled over in the school’s bathroom, puking your brains out with the flu, it was Seokjin that had noticed you were feeling off and chased you down after class. He’d been the one to see how sick you were, to hold your hair while you were bent over the toilet, to take you to the doctor and bring you homemade soup for dinner. 

While you panicked about the project due in the next few days, Seokjin adamantly insisted that you rest and promised that he could take care of it for you. He was unwavering in his resolve and despite the guilt brewing in your stomach alongside the nausea, you almost let yourself think he was doing this just because he wanted to, not because it was his personality. 

You didn’t deserve him. Not his friendship, not his love, not his time. He’s out of your league. Hell, he’s playing a different sport entirely. What you were doing wasn’t fair. This friendship didn’t happen because you were genuinely nice like Seokjin. It happened because you were lonely and, frankly, thirsty.

So, while you’re taking your final exam for your class with Jin, you reach the conclusion that it’s time to fess up. To admit who you really are, what your motives were, the reason you kept coming back for coffee you didn’t like. And then you’d cut it off. Not that you think you’d have to. Seokjin would see just how crazy you were and then never speak to you again. Things would be right with the universe and you’d be guilt-free, if a little embarrassed. 

Your pencil hovers over the scantron and you consider that you probably should have spent all this time focusing on the exam and not your friendship’s impending doom. 

But this class had been nothing short of an easy A, so you decide to have a little faith in yourself that even you could choose the correct answers while your mind wandered elsewhere. 

Yes, this was the best option. It’s not like you were in love with Seokjin, missing his presence and smile the minute he walked out the door and admiring the way his laugh lit up a room. Seokjin wasn’t some unreachable fantasy. You wouldn’t be retreating to your room sobbing if he was suddenly gone. He was just a person. He was just Seokjin. You could let him go. He could realize what you really were.

Easy peasy. Right? 

When you shoulder your bag and trudge out of the exam room, Seokjin is waiting for you, despite finishing a few minutes earlier. He was much too nice to other people like that. He hasn’t quite noticed you yet, too absorbed in a conversation with a fellow classmate. You indulge in his objectively perfect features for what will likely be the last time, but you don’t let your imagination wander. You just take the moment to appreciate what is in front of you. 

“Oh, I don’t know, I’m pretty tired...” You note the awkward, apologetic smile on his face and wonder what they’d been talking about. In that moment, his eyes flicker to yours, immediately lighting up. “Oh, Y/N!” He shifts towards you, leaving the poor girl to flounder. While he smiles enthusiastically your way, your expression is almost completely neutral. The abandoned classmate looks back and forth between the two of you, trying to decipher your relationship. You sigh, internally scolding him for wasting his attention on you. 

“Hey, Jin.” You address him by the nickname you’ve heard his friends call him. He’d never explicitly told you to call him that, but when it accidentally slipped out one day, he smiled to himself and you added the name to your vocabulary.

“Well, how do you feel? It’s over!” You shrug, shifting the backpack you always carry to the other shoulder. 

“Not as good as you do, I’m sure.” Seokjin’s brows furrow curiously and cutely, not understanding where you’re going. “You’re graduating? I’m still stuck here another year.”

“Ahh, at least the semester’s over. You are coming to my graduation, right?” You shoot him a look saying something akin to, ‘are you stupid?’

“Of course I am. You’d never let me live it down if I didn’t.” Seokjin laughs but doesn’t argue. You realize the classmate from before is long gone. You’re not sure when she left. Good, now you can tell Seokjin what you’ve been meaning to. “Can I talk to you?”

“Aren’t we talking now?” You sigh, loosely crossing your arms. 

“You know what I mean, Seokjin.” Sensing your serious demeanor, Seokjin immediately drops his teasing smile, switching his expression to one laced with concern. 

“Yes, of course. My shift starts in half an hour, though. Can we talk on the way to the shop?” 

“Sure.” Perfect, actually. Walking side by side, you wouldn’t have to watch that soft smile turn into an expression of disgust when you admitted what you were about to. 

As the two of you walk across campus and into the city, you tell him everything. You tell him how the minute you saw him, you’d thought he was the hottest person you’d ever laid eyes upon. You tell him how you came back almost thrice a week just to stare and think about him. You tell him how you don’t even like coffee, but your frequent visits to the shop have made you dependent on caffeine. You tell him how you’d had a bit of a crush on him, no, on your fantasy version of him for months. You tell him you don’t feel like that now, that you just feel guilty that this friendship existed when it was all born from a lie, from a terrible habit you couldn’t seem to break. You tell him how fake you are.

“And you deserve better than that, than me. I’m sorry I dragged you along for so long. I shouldn’t have.” You haven’t looked at him once this whole time, too ashamed to clue yourself in to what he’s thinking. “I think that’s everything.” Seokjin stays silent for a few agonizing minutes as the scenery morphs from tall, brick lecture buildings and trees into a more urban environment filled with bustling streets and colorful displays in the store windows. 

“Can I ask a question?” You jump at his voice. You’re almost surprised he’s still here. 

“Yeah.” You nervously fidget with your backpack straps, still refusing to even glance his way. 

“When you actually got to know me better, were you disappointed?” If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he sounded nervous. Heat rises to your cheeks. Shit, you’d hurt his feelings, hadn’t you? Why couldn’t he just get mad or storm off to leave you in the dust? Did he think that you hated him? That you were tired of him and that’s why you were doing this? You had to make him understand. You are the problem, not him. God, why was this idiot so nice?

“What? No!” You’re frantic with worry. Maybe you were being too egotistical to think that your confession had hurt his self-image, but you were willing to take the risk. “You’re great, Seokjin. You’re sweet and thoughtful and funny- well, actually your humor could use some work -and perfect. You’re a great friend. It’s me who’s disappointing. You’ve never disappointed me, not once.”

If you could just tear your eyes from the sidewalk, you’d see that Seokjin was grinning from ear to ear, over-the-moon ecstatic your compliments. Neither of you has ever been great with words, so you hope your pep talk was enough and that his silence is a good sign. 

The skies have begun shifting away from bright and sunny to grey and cloudy. The air is thick and heavy, like it’s about to rain. Just your luck. You should have checked the weather channel this morning. 

“We have caffeinated drinks other than coffee on the menu, you know.” 

Really? You’d just confessed your most embarrassing secret and that’s all he had to say? You stumble over your words, not sure whether to be flustered (because you definitely didn’t know that) or frustrated at his unwavering good nature. 

“Oh.” You grow sheepish and pretend to find the dirt under your fingernails interesting. “I guess I had a hard time focusing back then.” Those days had long faded away. You didn’t crumble under his gaze anymore or struggle to form coherent sentences around him. He’d long lost his mystery. 

Then, Seokjin laughs. He laughs and he chuckles and giggles and you cringe. You want to crawl into a hole and never come back out. When other times you could find humor in the rambunctious sounds spilling from his lips, now it only felt jarring, like a smack in the face. He was laughing at you, at how much of a hopeless idiot you are. You suppose that was better than him feeling betrayed and never wanting to see you again. Though he hasn’t exactly ruled out the latter. 

This is what you wanted, this is what you wanted. 

You say nothing, consumed by your own bitterness, as Seokjin calms down. 

“You’re pretty stupid, Y/N.” Your face falls. 

You knew that. He didn’t have to tell you. 

You were stupid to keep showing up at the coffee shop like a lovestruck teenager. You were stupid to believe Seokjin was your friend or that he might have even enjoyed your presence. He was just too goddamn nice and you were too goddamn stupid.

As the two of you get within a few blocks of the cafe, Seokjin’s hand brushes against yours. 

“Oh, sorry.” You’re quick to yank it away, almost burned by his touch, but to your surprise, Seokjin chases after it, fastening his palm against yours and intertwining your fingers. 

What was he doing?

“What are you doing?” For the first time since you started your rambling, you look at Seokjin, gape at him. But the timing is poor and now he’s staring straight ahead, not giving you a passing glance. 

“Do you really think I would have given you free drinks and sat next to you in class and talked to you every day if I didn’t at least like you a little bit?” You’re rendered speechless, eyes bugging out of your head.  

“I- um...”

“For being an accounting major, you really are the densest person I know.” His tone is light despite his blatant insults. “Don’t you realize I had a little crush on you, too? I was so excited when I realized we were going to share a class, but you never gave me the time of day.”

Your mouth opens and closes but no words leave it, not unlike a fish. 

“I've nearly asked you out at least three times now, but I kept chickening out.” 

The entire world feels like it’s flipped upside down. It’s like gravity’s stopped working and your head is spinning and you’re dizzy and your heart as burst and Seokjin’s hand enveloping yours is the only thing keeping you from floating away into the sky. 

The revelation smacks you in the face. 

Seokjin’s a liar. Not as genuine as you’d thought, after all. 

While you spent a semester pretending you liked coffee when really you just thought Seokjin was hot, he’d spent the next pretending he was only interested in your friendship when he’d been harboring a crush on you. 

You struggle to contain the small smile on your face. Seokjin’s hand gently squeezes yours and lightning shoots up your skin and spine. 

Seokjin’s eyes finally meet yours as the two of you stare sheepishly at each other. His gaze flickers to your lips a few times and you openly ogle at his, but he doesn’t lean in. He simply lifts your entwined hands and smiles, a short breath leaving his nostrils in place of a chuckle. It’s content and peaceful. There’s no need for love declarations or romantic kisses. You think you could be happy here forever knowing Seokjin wants you by his side. 

The moment ends when a raindrop hits your nose, startling the hell out of you. 

While you’re disoriented, Seokjin laughs and tugs you into the shop, now only a few steps away. The place is rather busy for it being lunchtime, but Seokjin weaves the two of you through the throng, stopping by the staff door. 

He looks at you with slight mischief. 

“You know, since it’s raining, you should probably just stay in here. Don’t wanna catch a cold.” You want to scoff, tell him that’s ridiculous and that your dorm is only a few minutes away. But you swallow your retort and let him have his moment. 

“Good idea,” you agree solemnly with a nod. 

“Actually, you should probably just stay until I’m off my shift. You never know when the rain might pick up again.” This time, you can’t help but quirk a brow. 

“Because you’re planning to protect me from the rain? You don’t have a jacket either.” Seokjin gives an offended look, like you’d just insulted his pride. 

“No, it’s so we can get sick together. It’d be romantic.” You scrunch your nose. Having fevers and runny noses and gross coughs together? Doesn’t seem like an ideal first date. 

“Sounds romantic.”

“I’m glad you agree.” 

You’re staring at each other again, in your own little bubble, until a customer brushes against your shoulder and you’re reminded that Seokjin is technically on payroll right now. He has a similar realization and reluctantly releases your hand, blowing a kiss over his shoulder as he steps through the staff door. You roll your eyes, feigning embarrassment, but on the inside, you’re melting. 

You plop down in your self-assigned seat in the most well-ventilated part of the cafe that also has a very convenient view of your favorite barista. The semester’s over and you have no work to do, but you don’t mind, content to watch Seokjin work while mindlessly giggling when he shoots you winks in between orders. 

You don’t fantasize or wonder where this might go. You don’t think your imagination could come up with anything better than what’s in front of you. 

You do predict, however, that you’ll be spending many more hours cooped up in this little cafe. 

Old habits die hard, you suppose. 

[innuendostudios]

Here’s How to Radicalize a Normie, a video essay on how the Alt-Right and their fellow travelers recruit. Clocking in at 41 minutes, 6756 words, 633 individual drawings, and 27 sources (including three full books), it is by far the longest and most heavily-researched video in The Alt-Right Playbook. I am very tired.

It took so long to put this behemoth together that my Patreon started to dip. So, maybe a little more than usual, if you want to keep seeing videos like these, please consider backing me on Patreon.

Transcript below the cut.

Say, for the sake of argument, your friend Gabe is starting to worry you.

Gabe’s always been just, you know, a regular guy. Not very political. He likes video games, sci-fi, comics, Star Wars, and anime. White guy shit. The only offbeat thing about him is you suspect there’s like a 20% chance he’s a furry. For all intents and purposes, Gabe is a normie.

But recently Gabe’s been spending a lot of time on some radically conservative forums, and listening to radically conservative podcasts, and picking some radically conservative arguments with you and your friends. You never would have expected this, not from Gabe, and, given the speed it’s happened, it’s worrying to think where it might be headed.

How have the Alt-Right gotten their hooks into your friend?

If you’ve ever known a Gabe, this video is for you. Here’s How to Radicalize a Normie.

Step 1: Identify the Audience

What you need to know before we begin is: around 2013, the Nazis went online.

Hate groups in the US, as tracked by the Southern Poverty Law Center, had been growing in number since the noughts, but, between 2012 and 2014, they dropped by almost a quarter. Patriot groups dropped by over a third. However, hate crimes stayed about the same. Radical conservatism was not shrinking, but decentralizing. Still radical, still often violent, but now full of white nationalist nomads unlikely to join a formal organization.

This didn’t make them harmless. What it did was protect their asses from the typical hate group cycle: getting the public’s attention, making allies in conservative media, swelling their numbers, and then eventually disgracing themselves with failures, infighting, and, often enough, members committing horrific acts of violence, which come with social and sometimes legal consequences for all the other members.

So the Alt-Right and their fellow travelers these days don’t so much have members. They have hashtags, followers, viewers, and subscribers. This insulates them from their own audience. If Gabe, as a member of that audience, were to go out and commit a crime on their behalf, there’d be little doubt they had a hand in radicalizing him, but it’d be very hard to claim they told him to do it. On some of these sites, where Gabe spends hours and hours of his day, he’s never created an account or left a comment; the people radicalizing him don’t even know he’s there.

This distributed nature is what makes the Alt-Right, and the movements connected to it, unique. (You may remember a notable proof-of-concept for this strategy.) Doing almost everything online has, as compared with traditional hate movements, dramatically increased their reach and inoculated them from consequence. The trade-off, as we will see, is a lack of control.

And so we come to Gabe.

Gabe exists at the intersection of the kinds of people the Alt-Right is looking for - straight white cis men who feel emasculated by modern society, primarily, though they do make exceptions - and the kinds of people who are vulnerable to recruitment. Gabe fits the first profile in that he got bullied in high school, and often feels he has to hide his nerdy side for fear of getting ridiculed. The Alt-Right also has success with men who can’t get laid or recently got divorced or feel anxious about an influx of non-white people in their community. These things can make one feel like less than the confident white man they’re “supposed” to be. And it’s the closest they will ever come to being minoritized.

Regarding the second profile, it’s important to know that Gabe is not categorically different from you or me. He’s a cishet white dude - his problems are not unique. There isn’t a ton of research into the demography of the Alt-Right, but there may be a higher-than-average chance Gabe has a history of being abused or comes from a broken home. You don’t know if it’s true of Gabe, he’s never said. But most abuse survivors don’t become Nazis. The things that make people like Gabe recruitable tend to be situational: it happens often during periods of transition, as dramatic as the death of a loved or as benign as moving to a new city. Things that make people ask big life questions. Gabe has concerns like economic precarity, not knowing his place in a changing world, stressful working conditions. In other words, Gabe is suffering under late capitalism, same as everyone, and it’s entirely plausible he could have gone down the path to becoming a Leftist.

This is not to make an “economic anxiety” argument: the animating force of the Far Right is and always has been bigotry. But the Alt-Right targets Gabe by treating his “economic anxiety” as one of many things bigotry can be sold as a solution to. It is their aim that, when dissatisfied white men go looking for answers, they find the Alt-Right before they find us.

Step Two: Establish a Community

Were Gabe pledging an old-school hate movement, there would probably be a recruiter to usher him into an existing community. But that’s the kind of formalized interaction modern extremists try to avoid. Online extremism has many points of entry, and everybody’s journey is unique, so rather than be comprehensive we will focus on what are, in my estimation, the two most common pathways: the Far Right creates a community Gabe is likely to stumble into, or infiltrates a community Gabe is already in.

The stumble-upon method has two main branches, one of which is just “Gabe ends up on a chan board,” which we’ve already done a video about. The other is kind of the polar opposite of 4chan’s cult of anonymity: Gabe ends up in the fandom of a Far Right thought leader.

These folks are charismatic media personalities (that’s charismatic according to Gabe’s tastes, not ours; I don’t understand it, either). These personalities may gain traction on any number of platforms, from podcasts to reportage to blogging, though the most effective platform for redpilling is, and yes I am biting the hand that feeds me, YouTube. They may get Gabe’s attention through fairly standard means, like talking about or even generating controversy to get themselves trending, while some of the more committed will employ dubious SEO tactics like clickbait, google bombing, and data voids (just pause for definitions, we don’t have time).

What they tend to have in common, especially the most accessible ones, is that they don’t present themselves as entry points to the radical Right. In fact, many did not set out to be Far Right thought leaders, and may not think of themselves as such (though they are often selling products, of which the Alt-Right are among their biggest purchasers, and it’s not like they’re turning the money away). How they present is the same way anyone presents who wants to be successful on social media: accessible, approachable, authentic. The face-to-face relationship a budding extremist forms with their recruiter or the leader of their hate group’s local chapter are here folded into one parasocial relationship with a complete stranger.

Why this person appeals to Gabe is they’re not selling politics as politics, but conservatism as a kind of lifestyle brand. They rely heavily on criticizing or ridiculing the Left: feminists are oversensitive, Black people unintelligent, queer folks doomed to loneliness, and trans people insane; I dunno if it’s a coincidence that these are all things Gabe thinks about himself in his low moments. By contrast, they don’t sell conservatism as having sounder policies or a more coherent moral framework, but that abandoning progressive principles and embracing conservative ones will make Gabe happier. Remember, Gabe isn’t looking for white nationalism or misogyny, what he wants is the cure to soul-sickness, and these friendly micro-celebs are here to offer a shot of life advice with politics as the chaser. It is extremely important that politics be presented as a set of affects, not a set of beliefs.

The second pathway is infiltration, which is its own beast. Media personalities sometimes become gateways to the Right almost by accident: they do something edgy, a part of their audience reacts positively, and, facing no real consequence, they do it more; this leads to further positive reinforcement from conservative fans, the rest of the audience acclimates, and the cycle repeats, the personality pushing the envelope further and further based on what flies with their increasingly conservative audience. In this way, they become a right-wing figure by both radicalizing and being radicalized by their audience.

Infiltration is deliberate.

The Far Right will reliably target any community that has 1) a large, white, male population, 2) whose niche interests allow them to feel vaguely marginalized, and 3) who are not used to progressive critique of said interests. This isn’t to say progressive critique doesn’t exist, or hasn’t been baked into the property from the beginning, but that it has been, so far, easy for white guys to ignore. As such, progressives within that community probably don’t talk politics much, and women and minorities are perfectly welcome to post, same as anyone, but just, you know, don’t, don’t make identity politics, you know, like, a thing.

Given Gabe’s proclivities, he’s probably already in a number of fan communities where he can geek out and not get teased. And this is where the Far Right will go looking for him

Communities are at their most vulnerable to infiltration at times of political discord. This can happen naturally - say, a new property in the fandom has a Black protagonist - or it can be provoked - say, a bunch of channers join the forum and say provocative things about race to get people arguing - or both. Left to its own devices, the community might sort out its differences and maybe even come out more progressive than they started. But, with the right pressure applied in the right moment, these communities can devolve into arguments about the need to remove a nebulously-defined “politics” from the conversation.

The adage about bros on the internet is “‘political’ means anything I disagree with,” but it’d be more accurate to say, here, “‘political’ means anything on which the community disagrees.” For instance, “Nazis are bad” is an apolitical statement because everyone in the community agrees. It’s common sense, and therefore neutral. But, paradoxically, “Nazis are good” is also apolitical; because “Nazis are bad” is the consensus, “Nazis are good” must be just an edgy joke, and, even if not, the community already believes the opposite, so the statement is harmless. Tolerable. However, “feminism is good” is a political statement, because the community hasn’t reached consensus. It is debatable, and therefore political, and you should stop talking about it. And making political arguments, no matter how rational, is having an agenda, and having an agenda is ruining the community.

(Now, it is curious how the things that provoke the most disagreement tend to be whichever ones make white dudes uncomfortable. One of life’s great, unanswerable mysteries.)

You can gather where this is going: a community that doesn’t tolerate progressivism but does tolerate Nazism is going to start collecting Nazis, Nazis whose goal is to drive a wedge between the community and the Left. Once the Left acknowledges, “Hey, your community’s developing a Nazi problem,” the Nazis - who are, remember, trusted, apolitical members of the community who might just be kidding about all the Nazi shit - say, “Did you hear that, guys?! Those cultural Marxists just called all of us Nazis!” Wedge. Similarly, any community members who say, “but Nazis though” are framed as infiltrators pushing an agenda, even if they’ve been there longer than the Nazis have. They get the wedge, too.

This is how fandoms radicalize. They are built as - yeah, I’ll say it - safe spaces for nerds, weebs, and furries, and are told that the Left is a threat to their safety. Given a choice between leaving a community that has mattered to him for years and simply adjusting to the community’s shifting politics, the assumption is that Gabe will stay. This assumption is right often enough that a lot of fandoms have been colonized.

What is true of both of these methods - Gabe finding the Right or the Right finding him - is that Gabe does not come nor stay for the ideology. He’s here for the community, the sense of belonging, of being with his people, of having his fears validated and his enjoyment shared. The ideology is simply the price of admission.

Step Three: Isolate

There is a vast, interconnected network of Far Right communities out there, and Gabe is, at this point, only on the periphery. In order to keep him in, they need to disrupt his relationships to other communities, and become, more and more, his primary online social space. Having made this space hostile to the Left, they now seek to break his connections to progressives elsewhere in his life.

This is hard to do online. The whole appeal of moving radicalism to the internet is that your away-from-keyboard life doesn’t have to change. You are crypto the moment you log off. Some thought leaders will encourage their audience to cut ties with Family of Origin, or “deFOO,” but, even then, they can’t monitor whether the audience has actually done it the way an in-person movement could. And so alienating Gabe from the Left is less controlled, and, consequently, may be less total. How much Gabe isolates is up to him.

But the vast majority of Far Right media presumes an alienation from the Left. Part of conservative bloggers and YouTubers making the Left look pathetic is doing a lot take-downs and responses. This is a constant repetition of the Left’s arguments for the purpose of mockery, and, for Gabe, it starts to replace any engagement with progressive media directly. He soon knows the Left only through caricature. It also trains him, if he does directly engage, to approach the Left with the same combative stance as his role models. (For reference, see my comment section.) And this is only if he doesn’t partake in one of the many active boycotts of “SJW media.”

In addition to mocking the Left’s arguments, they also, curiously, appropriate them. This is one part sanitization: liberal centrism is more socially acceptable; indeed, many figures on the outer layers think of themselves as moderates, even as they serve as gateways to radicalism. But, also, many of Gabe’s problems could be addressed by progressive leftism, so they sell him racist, sexist versions of it. Yes, there is a problem with workers being underpaid and overextended, but the solution isn’t unions, it’s deporting immigrants; yes, there is a chronic loneliness and anger to being a man in the modern age, but it’s not because of the toxic masculine expectations placed on you by the patriarchy, it’s women being slutty; yes, wealth disparity does mean a tiny percentage of elites have more influence over culture and politics than the rest of us combined, but the problem isn’t capitalism, it’s the Jews. And it’s hard for Gabe to reject these ideas without, in the process, rejecting the progressive ideas they’re copied from; the Right’s “take the red pill” is, to the untrained eye, similar to the Left’s “get woke.” (Or, at least, the bowdlerized version of “get woke” that is no longer specifically about race which came to fashion when white people started saying it, grumble grumble.)

Take the red pill or reject them both; either is a step to the right.

As this rhetoric slips into his day-to-day conversation, even as seemingly harmless “irreverence,” it may strain relationships with people who are not entertained by this shit. Off-color comments about race and gender can certainly be wearying for female and non-white friends, which can lead to a passive distance or an eventual confrontation [“why is everyone but me so sensitive?!”], which only seem to confirm what his reactionary community says about liberal snowflakes. If he says these things on social media, he may get his account suspended, and, if he comes back under an alt, you can bet his new reactionary friends will be the first to reconnect, applaud the behavior that got him banned, and repeat should he get banned again. A few cycles of this and he’s lost touch with everyone else.

Also, his adoption of the insular, meme-laden terminology of this community makes him less and less comprehensible to outsiders.

Over time, sources of information get replaced with community-approved ones: conservative news, conservative YouTube, conservative Wikipedia if he’s really committed. The Algorithm soon takes note and stops recommending media from the Left. He stops watching shows with a “liberal agenda,” which usually means shows starring women and people of color. Now, there is evidence that the human mind responds to fictional characters similarly to real people, and that consuming diverse media can decrease bigotry in ways roughly analogous to having a diverse group of friends, which is one of many reasons we say representation matters. By consuming a homogenous media diet, Gabe stymies his ability to have even parasocial relationships with anyone who isn’t a cishet conservative white dude or one of their approved exceptions.

To the extent that any of this happens, it happens at Gabe’s discretion and at his own chosen pace. It has not been forced on him, only encouraged and rewarded. But the fact that it hasn’t been forced can make him all the more willing to accept it, because it seems safe to consider; even though his life and social circle are changing to accommodate, he does not feel committed. But many Gabes have walked these halls, and, if they close the door behind them, there’s nowhere left to go but down.

Step Four: Raise their Power Level

(...and they say we ruined anime.)

Consider the ecosystem of the Alt-Right as layers of an onion, with Gabe sitting at the edge and ready to traverse towards the center. (No, I’m not just going to reiterate the PewDiePipeline, though, if you haven’t seen it, go do that.)

The outer layer of the onion is extremism at its most plausibly deniable. Without careful scrutiny, the public-facing figureheads could pass as dispassionate, and the websites as merely problematic rather than softly fascist. It is valuable if Gabe believes this as well; that, at this stage, he believe the bigotry is simply trolling, the extremists an insignificant minority, and any report of harassment faked. That he believe where he is is as deep as the rabbit hole goes. And that he continue to believe this at each successive layer.

People in the deepest crevices of the Alt-Right self-report getting redpilled on multiple issues at different times in their journey to the center of the onion. If Gabe’s first red pill is about the SJWs coming for his free speech, he’ll think that’s all anyone in his community believes; there’s no racism here, people are just making a point about their right to use slurs. Then, when he gets redpilled on the white genocide, he’ll laugh at those Alt-Lite cucks who tried to sweep the race realists under the rug, and at himself for having once been one, but acknowledge that those channels and websites are still useful for onboarding people, so he won’t denounce them. At the same time, nobody takes those manosphere betas seriously.

And this process is reiterated with every pill swallowed: gender essentialism, autogynephilia, birtherism, Sandy Hook truth, pizzagate, QAnon if he’s really out there. The heart of the onion is typically the Jewish Question, but these can happen in any order, and in any number. But each layer sells itself as being, finally, the ultimate truth. Each denies the validity of the others; the layers ahead don’t exist, they’re made up my liberals, while the people behind are asleep where you are now awake. That’s why they chose “the red pill” as their metaphor: take it, and everything will be revealed. That’s why it cozies up with conspiracism. But what’s supposed to follow is that this knowledge help Gabe in some way, and it doesn’t. Blaming immigrants doesn’t actually fix the economy, and hating women doesn’t make men less lonely. But, having been alienated from everything outside the onion, once that sinks in, the only recourse on offer is to seek out the next pill.

And pills are easy to find. Those within the network have laissez-faire relationships, even as they, on paper, disavow one another. When they need a source or a guest host, they aren’t going to go to the Left; they’re going to feature each other. The Left is the enemy; their ideas are beneath consideration, and the only reason to engage them is for public humiliation. [Shapiro’s book.] But you can interview “western chauvinists” and that doesn’t mean you’re endorsing them, just, you know, it’s fine to hear ‘em out, nothing should be off-limits in the marketplace of ideas. Besides, Nazis are apolitical.

And because these folks keep showing up in each others’ metadata, regardless of what they say, Google thinks there is definitely a relationship between the guy “just asking questions” and the guy denying the Holocaust. Gabe is softly exposed to many flavors of conservatism just slightly more radical than he is now, and is expected, at the very least, to not question their presence. This is an environment where deradicalizing - listening to the Left - would be sleeping with the enemy, but radicalizing further? You do you, buddy.

Gabe’s emotional journey, however, is somewhat more complex. If you’ve spent any time reading or watching reactionary media you’ve probably noticed it’s really. fucking. repetitive. It’s a few thousand phrasings of the same handful of arguments. Like, there’s only so many jokes about attack helicopters! But these people just crank out content, and most of it’s derivative; the reason to pick one personality over another isn’t because they say something different, but because they say it differently. Gabe just picks the affect it’s delivered in.

Repetition dulls the shock of the most egregious statements, making them appear normal and prepping him for more extreme ideas. Meanwhile, the arguments themselves? They’re not good. (BreadTube will never run out of shit to debunk.) They are repetitive because they’re not good. They’re mantric. A good argument you only need to hear one time; if you can follow it, internalize it, and explain it to someone else, you know you’ve understood it. But a bad argument can’t convince you on its own merits, so it will often rely on affect. This can be the snappy, thought-terminating cliche, or the long, winding diatribe that sounds really sensible while you’re hearing it but when someone asks you for the gist you can only say “go watch these 17 videos and it’ll all make sense.” Both these approaches are largely devoid of content, but, gosh, if they don’t sound sure of themselves.

And that mode can be very persuasive, but it doesn’t stick the way a coherent argument does. It needs to be repeated, the affect replenished, because the words matter less than the delivery. There needs to be a steady stream of confident voices saying “we’ve got this figured out and everyone else is stupid” or Gabe’s gonna notice the flaws. They are not well-hidden.

And the catch-22 of returning to that stream over and over is that these communities are stressful even as they are calming. People afraid they will die virgins go to forums with people who share and validate that fear, and also say, “Yes, you will die a virgin.” People afraid Syrians are coming to kill us all watch videos by people who share and validate that fear, and also say, “Yes, Syrians are coming to kill us all.” Others have already pointed out that rubbing your face in your worst anxieties is a form of digital self-harm, but I need to you understand the toxic recursion of it: Gabe is going to these communities to get upset. Every emotion is converted into anger, because sadness, fear, and despair are paralyzing but anger is motivating; Gabe feels less helpless when he’s pissed off. And so, while he’s topping up on reassuring nonsense, he’s also topping up on stress. And, being cut off from everything outside the network, the only place he knows to go to release that stress is back to the place that gives it to him. It’s a feedback loop, pulling him deeper and deeper on the promise that, at some point, relief will come.

It is a similar dynamic that keeps people in abusive relationships.

When someone in Gabe’s community makes a racist joke, they are presenting Gabe with a choice between the human interaction of laughing with his friends and his societal responsibility not to be a fuckin’ racist. And not laughing seems ridiculous; everybody’s friends here; no one’s getting hurt; this is harmless. And so the irreverent race joke draws a line between the personal and the political, and suggests that one can be safely prioritized over the other. One way to look at radicalization is being asked to stick with that seemingly innocuous decision as the stakes are raised incrementally: first with edgier humor, and then comments that are funny because they’re shocking but you couldn’t really call them jokes, and then “funny” comments that are also sincerely angry, but, in each instance, since he laughed with his bros last time, it stands to reason he should keep favoring the personal over some abstracted notion of “politics.”

This is why the progressive adage “the personal is political” is among the most threatening things you can say in these spaces.

I’m not trying to make a slippery slope argument. Most of us who laughed at edgy jokes when we were teenagers didn’t grow up to be Nazis. It is a slippery slope in the specific context of being in community with people trying to radicalize you. Gabe is a lonely white boy in need of friends, and laughing at a racist joke is personal, while not laughing is political. Staying in a community that has Nazis in it is personal, and leaving is political. The personal is what brings people together and the political drives them apart. (The “only if some of them are bigots” part of that sentence is usually lopped off). There’s this joke on the internet that nerds perceive only two races: white and political. Following that logic, what could be more apolitical than an ethnostate?

They are banking on his willingness to adapt his beliefs to suit an environment that meets a need. That same need can be satisfied by white nationalism. There are few things more seductive to people who doubt their own worth than being told you are valuable simply for being white. And you can sub in male, cis, straight, allosexual, or able-bodied. It just takes priming: by the time Gabe officially embraces bigotry, he’s already been acting like a bigot for months. The red pill is simply the moment he says it out loud.

Change Gabe’s surroundings, and you change Gabe.

Step Five: ???

The final step in a traditional extremist group would be getting a mission. But that is one thing the Alt-Right can’t do. Once you start giving clear directives, you can’t play yourselves off as a bunch of unaffiliated hashtags and think tanks; you are now a formalized movement accountable to its followers, and can be judged and policed as such.

To my mind, Charlottesville was an attempt to become such a movement, taking things offline and getting all the different groups working collectively. And, as so often happens when these people get in the same space - especially with no official leaders or means of control over their members - it backfired. Their true colors came out before they were ready and a counter-protester lost her life.

This would be the point where, historically, an extremist group starts to disintegrate. Their veneer of respectability gone, they’re now hated by the public, the media wants nothing more to do with them, and everyone not in jail turns on each other or goes underground. This is also the point where the liberal establishment says, “My job here is done,” and utterly fails to retake control of the narrative, allowing the next batch of radicals to pick up more or less where the last one left off.

But to an already-decentralized group like the Alt-Right, Charlottesville was bad but eminently survivable. People retreated back to the internet, with its code words and anonymous forums, but that’s where much of the work was already done anyway. The platforms where they organized kept tolerating them, the authorities still didn’t classify them as terrorists, and any disgraced figureheads were replaced with up-and-comers.

The major change in strategy is that it doesn’t seem anyone has tried to formalize the Alt-Right since.

So where does that leave Gabe? He’s gone through this whole process of largely hands-off indoctrination - and I should stress his journey may look like what we’ve outlined or it may look different in places, this video is not comprehensive - but now he’s swallowed every pill he cares to, he blames half a dozen minorities for everything he sees as wrong with the world, and no one will give him anything to do. You’ve got this ad hoc movement frothing young men into a militant fervor and then just leaving them to stew in their own hate. Should we really be surprised at how many commit mass shootings?

This is a machine for producing lone wolves.

Leaving men to take up arms of their own volition is a way of enacting terror while being just outside the popular conception of a terror cell. There are also, of course, more classic militias that will offer Gabe clear directives - they’re recruiting from the same pool. And Gabe may stop short of this step, settling in a middle layer that suits him or finding the inner layers too extreme. But violence is the logical conclusion of an ideology of hate, and, should Gabe take this step, he can approach violence in the same incremental fashion he approached conservatism.

He can start with yelling at people on Twitter, and then maybe collective brigading, DDoS attacks, sharing dox, leaking nudes, calling their phone numbers, texting them pictures of their houses from the sidewalk. These acts of cruelty become games of oneupmanship within his community. All this can start as far back as Step 2, and get more intense the deeper he goes. Some people join explicitly partake in harassment and violence the way Gabe joined to talk about anime.

But this behavior can serve as a kind of buy-in. The Left and the feminists and the LGBTQs and the Muslims and the immigrants are all, within his community, subhuman. You’ve maybe heard the conservative catchphrase “feminism is cancer”; well don’t treat cancer by having a respectful exchange of ideas with it, but by eradicating it down to the last cell. Cruelty against the Left is framed as righteous.

From any other perspective, posting someone’s bank information is something you might feel ashamed of. Which creates a psychological imperative not to consider other perspectives. A thing that keeps people in is staving off the guilt they will reckon with the moment they step out. Gabe is also aware that anything he’s done to the Left could be done to him if he leaves; some communities even keep dox on their members as insurance. And the things he’s been encouraged to do to the Left will likely make him feel that the Left would never take him now; the radical Right is the only home he’s got. Harassment becomes another tool of isolation.

Steadily, options for Gabe are whittled down to being a vigilante or a nihilist. There are periods of elation: moments the Alt-Right feels it’s winning - or, more accurately, the people they hate are losing - are like cocaine. They are authoritarians, after all. But the times in between are mean and angry. They are antisocial, starved of emotional connection, consuming incompatible conspiracies that may at any point run them afoul of one another, devoted to figureheads who cater to but cannot risk leading them, and living under constant threat of being outed to the Left or turned on by the Right for stepping out of line. Gabe took this journey for the sense of community and purpose, and, but for the rare moments everything goes their way, the Alt-Right can’t maintain either. They can only keep promising his day will come, a story he could get from a $5 palm reading.

The feeling there’s nothing left but to kill yourself or someone else is so common it’s a meme.

But there is always a third option: Gabe can leave.

Pre-Conclusion: For Fuck’s Sake Do Not Make Gabe Your Whole-Ass Praxis

Before we continue, I want to state plainly that Gabe went off the deep end because he found a community willing to tell him that, because he is a cishet white man, the world revolves around him. Do not treat him like this is true.

If a fraction of the energy spent having debates with America’s Gabes were spent instead on voter re-enfranchisement, prisoner’s rights, protections for immigrants, statehood for DC and Puerto Rico, and redistricting, Gabe’s opinions, in the societal sense, wouldn’t matter. Reactionary conservatism is a small and largely unpopular ideology that is only so represented in our culture and politics because they’ve learned how to game the system.

And I get it. Those are huge problems that are going to take years to address, where, if you know a Gabe, that’s a conversation you could have today. And, if you think you can get through to him, it is worthwhile to try. This is a fight on many fronts and deradicalization is one of them. But it is only one, so please keep it in perspective. It sends an awful message when we spend more time trying to get bigots back on our side than we do the people they are bigoted against.

Your value as a lefty does not hinge on whether you can change Gabe’s mind.

Conclusion: How Gabe Gets Out

He may just grow out of it. These communities skew young, and some folks hit a point where hanging with edgy teens doesn’t feel cool anymore.

He may become disillusioned after the movement fails to deliver on its promises.

He may become disillusioned if something goes wrong in his life and his community isn’t there for him, if he feels they like his race and his gender but don’t actually care about him.

He may be shocked if he sees the Alt-Right at its worst before being appropriately conditioned. Charlottesville was a step too far for a lot of people.

His community may turn on him for any perceived unorthodoxy, and he may leave out of necessity.

He may be separated by circumstance from the community - a trip with no internet, hospitalization, arrest - and not be able to top up on the rhetoric. This may lead him to question his beliefs.

His community may disappear, either tearing itself apart or getting shut down by authorities.

He may have incidental contact with populations he’s supposed to hate, and have trouble reconciling who they are in person with what he’s been told about them. In his community, people bond over shared intolerance, but, suddenly, being tolerant helps him make friends. (This is one reason the Alt-Right has made a battleground of the college campus.)

He may form or revisit relationships outside the network, people who can offer him the connection he’s been looking for. This may reintroduce outside perspectives. More importantly, it rekindles his ability to have healthy relationships at all, something the Alt-Right has estranged him from.

As with recruiters, it seems these “escape hatch” relationships can sometimes be parasocial; coming to respect a public figure who is on the Left, or is critical of the Alt-Right.

Someone he is close to may compel him to choose, “me or the movement.” A lot of young men leave to save a romantic relationship.

Hearing stories from people who’ve already jumped may help; there aren’t a lot of public formers, and some raise suspicions as to their sincerity, but it is getting more common, and may be the closest we get to exit counseling for the Alt-Right.

He may become aware of the ways he’s being manipulated, or have them revealed to him, maybe because he stumbled into BreadTube, I dunno. Knowledge that you are being indoctrinated is no guarantee it won’t work - you are not immune to propaganda - but it can help one resist.

And he may revisit a core belief system that used to guide him, be it religion or social justice or a really wholesome fandom, and be reminded of the identity he used to have.

Moments like these, in isolation or in aggregate, can inspire Gabe to jump. They are also good times for friends to intervene. The reach and the impunity that comes with the internet means it has never been easier to fall into reactionary extremism. It has also never been easier to get out. People who exit skinhead gangs often fear for their lives; for Gabe, there’s a chance getting out is as simple as going to a different website. Much of his community does not know his name or his face and he may not important enough to dox.

What doesn’t get Gabe out - not reliably, not that I have seen - is an argument with a stranger who proves all his facts wrong and his ideology bunk. Facts don’t always work because facts don’t care about his feelings. This was about staying in a community, and holding onto an identity, that mattered to him. It was about belonging, and that is something a rando from the other side of the culture war can’t give him and probably shouldn’t be responsible for.

The theme here is human connection. Before he can do the work of disentangling himself, and facing the guilt of what he’s believed and maybe done, he has to know there’s somewhere for him on the other end of it. That the Right hasn’t ruined him. They’ve told him all of history is groups fighting each other over status, and, without his clan, he’ll be an exile. He needs a better story.

I don’t know that lefty spaces are ideal for this, in no small part because bringing someone who’s a bit of a Nazi but working on it into diverse communities is… questionable. And it probably wouldn’t be good for him, either; having just gotten out of a toxic belief system, he’s going to be deeply skeptical of all ideologies. In a perfect world, people who care about Gabe could build for him - to use a therapy term - a holding space. Someplace private - physical or digital - where Gabe can work out his feelings, where he is both encouraged and expected to be better but is not, in the moment, judged. That comes later. It is delicate and time-consuming work that should not be done in public, but we find these beliefs, built up over the course of months or years, tend to fall away very quickly with a shift of environment. Change Gabe’s surroundings and you change Gabe.

But, instead, a lot of people who jump are functionally deprogramming themselves, which is working for a lot of them, but it’s haphazard, and there are recidivists.

If you don’t personally know a Gabe, or have training as a counselor, you may not be in a position to help him. Possibly there are things you can do to disrupt the recruitment process or prevent infiltration of spaces you’re in - I’m looking into it, but talk to your mods - but, elephant in the room: meaningful change will require reform on the part of platform holders. Tools to disrupt this process already exist and are being used on groups like ISIS, but they’re not being used on the Alt-Right because they try oh so very hard not to get classified as terrorists (and also any functioning anti-radicalization policy would require banning a lot of conservative politicians, so there’s that...).

But what makes our story better than theirs is that the fight for social and economic justice, though it is long, and difficult, and frustrating, when it works, it fulfills the promise the Right can’t keep: it materially make people’s lives better. I am not prone to sentimentality, or to giving these videos happy endings. But one thing we have that the Alt-Right doesn’t is hope.

[ngame989]

“Friends” - TGG SVTFOE Fanfic Collection Ch. 12

Writing: @ngame989​​

Art: @toxicpsychox​​

Editing: @ubercelloczar​​, @seddm​​

Alternate fic links - FFnet, AO3

Summary: Ludo needs help making friends and turns to Star and Marco for help, but things quickly spiral out of their control.

Comic Page

Masterpost

It's been an incredibly trying month for me and I'm unsure about a lot of things in my personal life now, but this isn't one of them. I'm so happy to finally be getting back to my feet so I can make more of the Starco content I want the world to see. Hope you enjoy, and thanks for your patience. (Also, fair warning, there’s one ever so slightly steamy Starco scene here)

“Have you ever wondered why heart thingies are hearts?” Marco stopped chewing on a bite of his burrito as he turned his full attention to Star. It wasn’t the most confusing thing she’d ever said, but it was up there. “Like, why does this symbol mean hearts and love and stuff?” she clarified, holding up a piece of heart-shaped candy from the post-Valentine’s Day shopping spree Eclipsa had taken her on weeks ago.

“Dunno,” he responded. “Maybe it’s what people used to think hearts looked like or something.”

“None of the hearts I’ve seen on hunting trips with Dad ever looked like this. Although one was made of chocolate.” She shrugged and popped the treat into her mouth, dumping some more from the bag into her mouth soon after. Her cheeks were puffed out, stretching her heart marks wide and Marco couldn’t help but giggle at the sight. “What?” she mumbled, still chewing. He pantomimed the sight in front of him, pointing to his own puffed-up cheeks. Star quickly grabbed two more candies, licking the backs of them before sticking them to Marco’s face, smiling quite smugly at her handiwork. “Now we’re heart twinsies!” She scooted around the table next to him and leaned in, snapping a selfie. “The kids will love this one.”

He swallowed the last bite of his burrito, thanking the heavens for the new Taco Baco location on campus. The other food options there were… lacking, to say the least.

“The Valentine’s Day Chocopalooza was a smash hit, but I have no clue how to follow it! I can’t have peaked after half a year, Marco!” The memories came flooding back: brownie batter as far as the eye could see, melted chocolate inflicting its goopy wrath on every surface in the kitchen, and so much frosting that he still didn’t want to even look at the stuff.

“I think they just like spending time with you. You’re really good with kids, Star. Besides, the only other holiday coming up is Easter, and you’re terrified of it.”

“It has a giant rabbit that lays eggs, Marco! How do you not see how horrifying that is?”

A loud cough from the bushes behind them might normally have only caught Marco’s attention for a passing moment, but another voice frantically shushed it. “Dennis, quiet! The giant bunny schtick is too good!”

“Ludo?” Star and Marco said in unison.

“Hello, Star and Marco!” Ludo exclaimed with an emphatic wave. “So wonderful to see you again! How’s your kid?”

“She’s not… she’s fine,” Marco relented, estimating that it wouldn’t be worth the hassle. “So… how’s it going?”

“Things are fine, family’s good. Bird and Spider told me to say hello.” He seemed even twitchier than Marco remembered. Dennis prodded his brother with a wing, clearly trying to be surreptitious about it and failing spectacularly. “Ahem, well, there is one teensy tiny issue… I ran into Bearnicorn a few days ago. I totally froze up! Things were pretty awkward last time I saw the whole gang and I think I’m finally ready to try again, but I have no idea how to do that. You might not know this, but I have some issues getting over things,” he stated earnestly. Star and Marco exchanged a bewildered glance - he couldn’t be serious, right? Wait, what were they thinking, Ludo could totally say something like that seriously. Ludo took a deep breath and continued, “But Dennis suggested that I come to you two for help, since I had actually managed to work everything out with you.”

Star munched on another chocolate heart as she mulled over what he was saying. “So you want our help to… make friends?”

The edges of his beak-mouth turned up in an ecstatic smile. “I would like that very much!”

***

“You’re sure about this, Star?”

“He’s not hurting anything, Mom.” Star didn’t glance up from the piles of clothing she was rummaging through at the sound of her mom’s wary question; it wasn’t an unfair one, considering the history involved. Even though he was friendly now, Ludo was too much of a wildcard to completely discount as harmless. Still, though, Star saw no reason to suspect any tricks up his sleeve (though there were probably some bugs there). The nostalgia of reconnecting with Ludo was oddly calming for Star, and considering how quickly Marco agreed to help Ludo with his issues, despite the craziness of midterms approaching, she guessed he felt the same. Drawer after drawer bore no fruit in her quest to find the sweater for Marco’s all-important psychology ensemble - the book and glasses had already been secured.

“Though I didn’t say anything, I admit I was initially hesitant about you two sharing living quarters like this, but I must say Marco’s organizational skills seemed to have rubbed off on you,” Moon said with a snicker. She bent down and checked under the bed, pulling out stray bags of cereal and bottles of soda that Star recognized from her and Marco’s late night movie marathons slash cuddle sessions. “...somewhat.”

Think Star, think! When was the last time you saw that dang sweater? Let’s see… he wore it on our Valentine’s Day date so it can’t be that hidden - it was a bit snug on him which made it extra adorably handsome. He’d said he’d wear it more if I wanted, and I fell over laughing when he wore it just last weekend before we… oh corn. Star now recalled where the sweater would almost certainly be as a wave of horror washed over her. She slammed the dresser drawer and whipped around for a mad dash to the nightstand, where- pegasus feathers. Moon had just found the sweater, which was great, and with it was the exact last box she wanted anyone else (and especially her mom) to find, which was... greeeeeeat. Star generally felt she had a solid, trusting bond with her mother, but she’d never been - and still wasn’t - the first person Star blabbed to about her personal affairs.

“Mom, I can explain-”

“Star, sweetie, I’m not upset. What you do with Marco is none of my business, you’re a grown young woman who is more than capable of making her own decisions. If anything I’m simply relieved that you’re taking such sane precautions. I may be old, but I’m not ready to earn my place in the Grandma Room quite yet.” Despite her embarrassment, Star had to admit she was eased by her mom’s understanding,. “And don’t worry,” Moon said softly, “I’ll handle the subject with your father for you, if you’d like.” And just like that, any comfort was washed away by a tidal wave of beet-red cheeks and incoherent sputtering.

Marco poked his head in, causing Star to yelp and jump off the bed. “Hey, you almost ready?”

“Yep! Totally, totally, totally ready and not discussing anything about our personal lives with mom!”

“Uh-huh…” Marco responded. “Well, I’m ready down there if you are. Oh hey, there’s my sweater. Good, we’ll need it... I, uh think we have our work cut out for us.”

Star was worried, but also kinda happy to have an excuse to leave the current conversation as soon as Mewmanly possible. She handed the sweater from her mom to Marco, who put it on as they walked downstairs to where Ludo was curiously poking around the living room.

“Oh, hello Star! I was just admiring your lovely castle. Bit small for my tastes, but what do I know, haha!”

“Yeeeeeeah…” She then leaned over to whisper to Marco. “So, like, what did he say so far?”

“He said that he tried practicing talking to people with garbage dolls.”

“Weird.”

“I don’t even know where to start, really.”

“Hey Ludo,” Star called out, walking over and sitting on the couch next to him. “So, bud, whatcha need us for here, exactly?”

“Ah, yes, well… I’d like to be able to talk to my old friends again without being their boss. You know, the whole scheming to defeat you… steal the wand… take over Mewni and rule it with an IRON FIST-” He had gotten so worked up that he was on his feet jumping up and down on the couch, but stopped and took a deep breath before chuckling. “Aha, see, there it is again! It’s usually not like this, it’s been months since I’ve even once brought up the wand in a game of cha-rads…”

Yeah, this might be a liiiiiiittle tricky. She tented her fingers as she came up with a plan. Could I… nah. Would it…? Mmm, no go. Wait, Star, duh! “ Alright, Ludo, it’s time for some patented psychomological work from Star Butterfly, H.P.D. We need to see what’s going on in your head.”

“Ooo, sounds fun! So for starters I think there’s some lice-”

“No, no,” she responded calmly, “I mean we need to find what’s making you tick.”

“Yup, I’ve got ticks too!”

Marco put a hand on her shoulder, his worried expression clear even to her peripheral vision. “Are you sure he should be in the same house as Mari-”

“Not now, Marco,” Star hissed, swatting his hand away while keeping her gaze trained on Ludo. “Why are you having trouble talking to your old friends again? What’s the first thing that comes to mind when I say ‘Boo Fly’?”

“Messenger.”

“Buff Frog?”

“Excellent spy.”

“Lobster Claws?”

“Putting his claws on the wand- oh, wait, I see now! This is like cha-rads but with just words! You almost got me!”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re getting it! OK, one more… Toffee.”

“Candy! It’s so delectable with chocolate-”

“You know what, that one’s probably for the best,” Star murmured. “Well, Ludo, it seems to me like your biggest problem is that you aren’t even thinking about your old crew as regular people. Try this. Think of doing something you’d normally do with your brother.”

“Picking the worms out of our feathers to eat-”

“Yeah, no,” Star cut him off. She wanted to help, she really did, but she had a million other things on her mind and now was just not a great time for endless Ludo shenanigans. “I was thinking something less gross…”

“Basketball?” he cheerily offered.

“Sure. Imagine yourself playing basketball with your brother…” She paused a moment as he started miming out dribbling in his seat. “Now imagine doing the same exact thing but with Bearnicorn there instead of your brother.” His arms twitched a bit.

“Keep dribbling, man!” Marco called out encouragingly. Ludo shut his eyes in concentration and after a moment got back into his awkward, gawkish basketball form.

Ludo’s bulbous eyes snapped back open, frantic with glee. “Aha, yes! I think I see it now! Oh, thank you, Star and Marco! I’m off to go find my friends again!” With that, he bolted out the front door and scurried down the road until he was out of sight.

“You think that’ll work?” Star asked hopefully.

Marco sighed and hugged her from behind. “Not a chance.”

***

“Alright, we have a few minutes left in class so if anyone has any questions on the graded midterms I just passed back, let me know. Otherwise you’re free to leave. Have a good weekend!”

Marco hunched over in his chair as he quickly scanned through the multiple choice questions and short answers. A few stupid mistakes here and there, but still an A - he’d even gotten a smiley face next to his essay assessing some example personality type or another. All in all, things felt right. Karate, sword-fighting, and adventuring were important to him but he’d always felt the most fulfilled helping others with their problems - psychology just seemed right.

A high-pitched, squawking voice interrupted him. “Hey, dude, what did you get for number 12?” Marco looked up at another student - Matt, if he was remembering correctly - who was hovering over him at an uncomfortably close distance. Even with how much life had changed in the past few years, his academic reputation stayed the same.

“Uh, C,” Marco responded absentmindedly.

“Oh, that makes sense. And what about 13?”

“B.”

“And… 14 through 35.”

“Just talk to Mrs. B, man,” Marco irritatedly replied, shaking his head. Normally he enjoyed helping classmates if he could, but he had promised Star he’d helm the planning for the daycare’s Easter party on account of her phobia - well, that, and he’d heard Matt bragging about how he’d blown off studying to play the new Super Slash Sisters game all night long. He looked back down to check over one last page and grinned to himself. The final essay prompt hadn’t been for a grade, but instead asked a simpler question: Why are you here? Without context, it might have seemed odd or downright rude, but the teacher had spent the first few months of the semester encouraging all the students to reflect on their goals and what they hoped to gain from the psychology program. The blunt prompt had caught him off guard, but after realizing what it was asking, he’d spent probably about as much time as he had on the rest of the exam combined describing his experiences and motivations on Mewni that drove him to help and support others.

Of course, he couldn’t help but talk about Star at length as part of that. His adorable, brave, compassionate best friend that inspired him to be more. Where would he even be now without her? He could still be at college, he supposed, but that wasn’t saying much. It was humorous to imagine: waking up, being driven to college by his mom, waving hello to Jackie every day (his foolproof plan to woo her had involved eventually moving past nodding, after all), getting straight As, working fruitlessly towards a red belt after classes, then… what? The world had so much more to offer him, and vice versa, and Star was the one who’d helped him realize that. The words had just flowed right out of his pen, paragraphs and paragraphs of glowing praise and affection, enough to leave his chest feeling as warm as it did when she was physically there.

“Hey, Marco, I have a question-”

Stirred from his contemplative state, Marco wheeled on the figure that had just tapped him on the shoulder, ready to tell Matt off for interrup- oh.

“Ludo? What are you doing here?”

“Oh, well, I was in the neighborhood and I thought I’d just drop in! But also, please help me. I did what you said but then I dribbled Boo Fly on the ground and he got really upset and-”

Marco sighed. Hope Star’s fine with me being late.

***

Most days, Star loved everything about her job. It was hard work, but it was so satisfying bringing smiles and warmth to the faces of the kids in her care and seeing them light up with stories to tell their families at the end of each day. Her hours were flexible, she got to spend time with Marco, and Antonio was a wonderful boss.

Today, however, was not most days.

Of freaking course Easter was Antonio’s favorite holiday.

The kids seemed to be enjoying his antics as he pranced around in a bunny costume, but for the life of her she just couldn’t understand why. Is it a normal rabbit or a person-sized one? No one even seems to know what it is! Does it lay bird eggs or rabbit eggs? Both are pretty horrifying if you ask me! If you get chocolate eggs in your Easter basket, does it lay them too? I’m not eating any soft brown rabbit droppings, Marco! They didn’t even get any days off for it, so Star was convinced the best thing to do was ignore its existence as a holiday entirely. Her incredibly valid concerns had largely been met with amusement, even by Marco, but Antonio had at least offered to let her keep her distance and work behind-the-scenes for the party they had planned, which was now going on in the main playroom.

Packing baskets with candy was easy enough. Chocolate, gummies, cookies, donuts. Candy corn for the humans and candied corn for the Mewmans - as much as the humans liked Mewman corn, they hadn’t quite accepted it as a valid dessert yet. There were a few special ones marked down as well. Some marshmallow mice for the Septarians, a ribeye steak for the Johansen - her third cousin or something like that, she wasn’t even sure exactly whose kid he was - and some dried bugs for the kappas… wait, since when were there any kappas at the daycare? She yanked the full list out from underneath the pile of sweets and quickly scanned it. 105? Aren’t there only 104 kids in the program this semester?

She almost missed it at the very top of the list: “Manudo Avarius”. She vaguely remembered hearing about a sibling with that name at some point… maybe they just joined? Something still seemed off to Star but she pushed it aside and finished the last of the baskets just in time for the end of the party. As the kids left, Star cheerfully handed out the baskets to the tune of joyous squeals from the kids and careful warnings from the parents to not eat too much at once. Pffftt, come on, I eat cake for breakfast and I turned out fine!

Curiously, she hadn’t spotted anyone that resembled Ludo yet even as the remaining crowd dwindled to almost nothing. Antonio had already begun to put away decorations when she finally spotted the figure, taking the basket over to them. But when they turned around, showing a braided beard… oh pegasus feathers.

“Star Butterfly! So good to see you again.”

“Hey Ludo,” she said. “Are you picking up Manudo?”

“Why would Menudo be here?”

“Well the paper said Manudo-”

“No, no, that’s not how it’s spelled, but besides, I’m here by myself. A large man with a magnificent beard asked me for my name and told me I was missing a party with lots of sweets! He kept calling me a child and I said I was a man and that my name was Ludo, but who cares when there’s free chips, am I right?” He reached into one of the five chip bags in his arms and stuffed a handful into his beak.

Man-udo. Dangit, Antonio. “So… good to see you, but what brings you here?”

“Well, I talked to Marco just the other day because it still just wasn’t working, but then I tried something else and that still didn’t work, so now I need your help again. It all started on Tuesday-”

Star slumped down into a beanbag chair and reached into the basket, deftly avoiding the bugs as she searched for cookies to nibble on. This is going to be a while.

***

“So what did you say this place was?” Tom asked as he glanced around the restaurant. The vibrant cherry-red booths and soulful singer crooning over the speakers created a very different atmosphere than anything in the Underworld, but he liked it.

Sitting across from him, Marco downed another fry and took a sip of his water before responding. “Diners are the best places to go for comfort food. Burgers, onion rings, waffles, all that kinda stuff. Emilio’s is the best in town.”

Next to Marco, Star was wolfing down onion rings by the handful. “The secret is that he hired a bunch of Eclipsa’s old chefs, so they make great Mewman and monster food too. Don’t tell Mom but their Mewnipendence Day pies are the best I’ve ever had - though they don’t call it that anymore.” She was still chewing when she spoke, but after so many years of knowing Star he had no trouble understanding her garbled words. “It’s really cool that Emilio was able to get back on his feet after the incident.”

“What incident?” Tom asked, eliciting an irritated groan from Marco.

“So basically, a few years ago, Ponyhead and I-”

“Oh boy, a Ponyhead story,” Janna sarcastically said, rolling her eyes, and Tom elbowed her side.

An older man with olive skin approached the table. ““Does everything taste alright? If your dining experience isn’t absolutely perfect, please let me know, I can get you anything. More to drink, dessert, maybe some mushrooms...”

“It’s great, Emilio,” Marco mumbled.

“Good, good…” Emilio was smiling a bit too hard as he backed away, his eyes lingering on Marco’s meal.

Marco caught Tom’s curious gaze and buried his head in his hands. “Look, it’s a long story. There was this pizza, then spiraling alcoholism, then a bit of arson…”

Janna’s hand, resting on Tom’s leg, unconsciously twitched as she perked up. “Woah, OK, now I actually do want to hear this.”

“Too late, no take backs.”

“Aww, you’re no fun.”

“So anyway, we picked the restaurant this time so have you two decided what we’re doing after?” Oh crud, we forgot to plan. Tom’s initial instinct was to claim a beginner’s mistake, since it was only the second of their monthly double dates and their first time planning the after-dinner entertainment… except the actual reason was that he and Janna happened to get into their first major makeout session the night they had set aside for planning, burning thoughts of accomplishing anything else to a crisp in the process. Star and Marco were the last people that would be squicked out by romantic affection- that wasn’t the problem. After years of slacking on responsibilities and having any kind of social life at all in a misguided attempt to chase after Star, he couldn’t help but feel extra guilty over this specific lapse.

Janna leaned in, whispering in his ear. “Can’t we just hit up the Sands of Eternal Torment?”

“For the tenth time, Jan, no,” he hissed through his teeth. “There’s, like, a 25% chance you’d all have your souls violently ripped from your bodies.”

“Only 25? Ew, nevermind, just let them pick.” She leaned in even closer, her breath hot in his ear. “If it’s somewhere boring, we could always just sneak away and-”

“Good evening!” Tom squeaked and quickly turned his head at the sudden boisterous call from his other side, almost smacking Janna in the temple with his horn in the process. It was an incredibly short bird creature with a thick grey beard - a kappa, if Tom was remembering correctly. It wasn’t their same waiter from before, but hey, what did he know about how Earth restaurants worked?

Tom held out his glass, but the supposed waiter ignored it. “Yeah, can I have a refill on the demonade, please?” Star and Marco glanced over at the waiter, their eyes opening wide before they both groaned and smacked their faces on the table in unison. Alright, maybe he’s not a waiter then.

***

“Star...” Marco uttered. Star removed her wandering lips from his neck and propped herself up to look lovingly at him, shivering slightly as she abandoned the warmth of his bare skin. It had been probably over a year now since they’d first become more intimate like this, but the fire still burned just as hot. Heck, it was better now than those first forays, Star reckoned; with time came confidence and experience that let them enjoy themselves and each other to the absolute fullest. They’d both had busy lives the last few months or so, and with the end of the semester fast approaching Star knew they would be even busier soon, but none of that seemed to matter in this time they’d taken for themselves. Even after a break for a shower and snacks, their present cozy state under the blanket with nothing between them still felt as radiant as any proper afterglow could.

“Mhmm?” A devious thought crossed her mind, but she tried her best to feign innocence as she slowly slithered down his body, leaving fiery trails of kisses down his chest and sweet, sweet abs.

“Not that I don’t like, you know, doing this but I don’t, uh, know if I have it in me for another rouuuuuuuu-” His voice shot up an octave and his whole body jolted as she blew raspberries on his belly button and snuck her arms up to tickle around his armpits. “Star, please- I can’t- I’m- can’t breathe-” he sputtered out between hysterical bouts of laughter.

She was laughing too by the time his flailing pushed her off of him. Before he’d even collected himself, he lunged forward, trying to catch her with a determined-but-still-goofy grin on his face. Star dodged and backed away from the bed entirely as Marco grasped at her limbs. He finally gave up, lying on his stomach while resting his head on his chin and staring up at her. Even though his tush was right there for the ogling, Star was instead captivated by his enamored gaze and dopey smile.

“Dangit, Marco, you know I can’t resist that look,” she huffed, allowing him to take her hands and pull her next to him on the bed.

“I know,” he said smugly. “You’re not the only one who can weaponize being all lovey dovey.”

“The student has become the master,” she quipped, their hands still joined between them as they lay on their sides.

“But I do mean it, Star. I love every single part of you, and that’s not gonna change. Things have been hectic lately for both of us, but stuff with the daycare, what you want to do for a living, Ludo… we can figure that all out. Just reach into your pocket if you need me.”

She gently patted his head, running her fingers through his freshly shampooed hair. It was alluring to smell, to hold, to feel brushing up against her. Though the problems they faced now were of a different kind than the forces of evil that they’d spent their earlier years tackling, his presence was still what she needed most to ground her and make everything feel alright. Her face dipped in for a kiss, initially short and sweet but quickly succumbing to a familiar hunger. She pounced on him but miscalculated her momentum, rolling the whole way over him and pulling him with her so he lay on top. Not complaining, she thought as she hugged him close and indulged in the sensory bliss of his skin on hers.

He lightly rested his forehead on hers. “Do you, um, mind if we maybe don’t, y’know…” he trailed off sheepishly.

“Marco,” she crooned, holding his face in her hands. “How many times do I have to say it: I don’t want to do anything if you’re not comfortable with it.”

“I-I can try that, um, thing again, though, instead if- if you want?” Oh sweet, sweet Marco. Even after years together, he still couldn’t rest until he was sure he’d done everything he could for her.

“Yeah,” she implored, breathy with the mounting anticipation as he began a trail of kisses downward.

“What thing are you two talking about?” Time seemed to stop as any building pleasure completely evaporated. Marco grabbed the crumpled bedsheet and pulled it over the two of them as the couple stared at the window in complete incredulity to where Ludo was standing on a flapping Dennis’s back. “Well, anyway, I need some more advice-”

“GET. OUT!”

***

Marco rested his chin in his hands while Star paced in front of him. Three months. Three months of Ludo showing up at the most inopportune times, three months of Star trying and failing to feel satisfied with her efforts at the daycare, three months of a semester so intense that they were both at their wit’s end with all of it. Ludo had once again come to the college for advice after his 26th attempt to regain his old friends failed just as catastrophically as the previous 25. He was persistent, Marco had to give him that, and the old monster crew had even been pretty supportive when Star and Marco had tracked them down themselves and explained the situation. The issue seemed to be entirely from within Ludo’s own mind, which made it a dozen times harder to solve. It was the last day of the semester and they’d been haunted by thoughts of every minute of summer vacation spent throwing themselves at the brick wall of Ludo’s psyche, so they’d made a pact that today was all or nothing. Neither wanted to ditch Ludo, he wasn’t a bad guy, but enough was enough.

“Any ideas?” Star piped up, sounding entirely lost and uncertain as her gaze kept nervously darting over to Ludo who was brushing his beard and snacking on its droppings in the empty playroom. “We’ve tried psychology, reverse psychology, pep talks, reverse reverse psychology, all-you-can-eat chips, ygolohscysp-”

“Which still isn’t a thing,” Marco interrupted.

“Well I’m sorry, I’m not the one with a fancy degree, Marco!” she growled, tossing her arms out. “Ugh, sorry, this is just so frustrating. Doesn’t he have, like, a thousand brothers and sisters he could hang out with? If he can’t relax around the monsters, why does he always have to pester us when he could-” Her pacing instantly halted as her eyes opened wide. “Oh crud.”

He stood up and placed a hand on her shoulder reassuringly, unsure whether her apparent epiphany was a good or bad thing. “Star?”

“He came to us for help becoming comfortable around his old pals again because he already was comfortable around us.”

“Way too comfortable,” Marco muttered with a wince that Star mirrored. They were still a little bit traumatized from the shower incident. “But that means-”

“He never needed his monster pals, he just needed… friends,” she said just as he had the revelation on his own.

Marco smacked his forehead and sighed. “And he spent so much time fixating on this one thing, and we spent so much time just trying to solve his problem and shove him out the door, that we never tried just… being his friends.”

They both looked through the little window into the playroom, where Ludo saw them and waved with a giant smile.

Star buried her face in her hands, messing up her hair like she was prone to do whenever she was feeling frazzled. “Ugh, I feel terrible.”

“Same, but… we can’t be his only friends, though. I feel bad for him, but I don’t know if I have it in me to be his BFF.”

“You’re right, you’re right, but who else could even handle that? Who? The guy’s so hyper and weird, ugh, he reminds me of me as a kid, except way less cute.”

“...a kid.” They both mumbled simultaneously. It was as if a single lightbulb had gone off above both of them at once as all the pieces fell into place. “That’s it!”

Star bolted out the door to gather the handful of children that hadn’t been picked up yet while Marco got Ludo. A few minutes later, they met up at the rec center basketball court where Antonio helped them set up some kid-sized hoops. It took a bit of coaxing, but after a few minutes Ludo was having the time of his life tossing the ball around. The kids seemed to enjoy it, too, as he regaled them with tales of his adventures on Earth (and a few about a space princess with a cyclops and robot for friends that Marco was pretty sure he made up). Star and Marco had joined for a few games but both decided to just step back and watch from the bleachers for a while.

As they observed the scene, listening to the ecstatic wails of everyone on the court as they ran around with the ball, there was a smile on Star’s face that was more content than Marco had seen in a while. “See? You made their whole week just by giving them someone fun to play with,” Marco said, lacing his fingers through her hand. “They like you a lot more than they like balloons and candy.”

“Even I don’t need candy with you here being so sweet,” she cooed, nuzzling into his shoulder, neither taking their eyes off the courts. Ludo passed the ball to Trevor, who spun around and passed it back in a fluid motion that allowed Ludo to score. The blissful, carefree sight was soothing after the intensity of Marco’s life lately. Just some kids and a small bird man having fun playing a game together… life didn’t always have to be so complicated. The serene moment abruptly ended when Ludo’s beak caught on the rim, leaving him dangling above the ground and shrieking for help. As Star squeezed Marco’s hand, sighed, and stood up to go help the poor kappa, Marco knew it could never be truly simple either.

[lost-in-time-marie]

Into the Shadows: Chapter One

I stared idly at the flat, gray skies waiting for Natasha by our favorite weeping willow in the courtyard, its green sweeping leaves the only splash of color in a sea of grays and browns. Whole school years had come and gone, but the two of us still met every morning in the same spot, at the same time, before the bell rang; I liked the tradition. Thick fog wound around the students filling the small, square dirt field, the grass trampled long ago. I loved the fog and the wind and the overcast, gray skies. If I breathed in just a little deeper, I swear I could smell the fall; the decaying leaves, the hint of chill forming in the air, signaling for the winter to follow close at its heels. The wind picked up my wavy, brown hair then, swirling it around my shoulders, as if to thank me for acknowledging it. I neatly tucked it back behind my ears and instinctively hugged my soft, red jacket closer to my body. It was far too early for the September sun to break through the grey yet, but I knew in a few hours the leaves would be alight with my favorite green-gold.

         “Hey,” Natasha called, her freckled face cracking into a huge grin. My smile answered automatically.

         “Hey,” I replied, switching my thoughts to the first day of school.

         “I’m so excited! Especially for Advanced Placement Psychology,” Natasha chimed happily, her brown eyes lighting with excitement. I always teased her because her brown eyes were the exact shade of brown as the freckles that speckled her face and body. She did not particularly like such facts being pointed out to her, and I could picture the exact dark scowl she would pull her face down into at the mere mention of such subjects. Something was off about her appearance; it took me a moment to place it. Her usual long locks had been sheared off to above her shoulders, in what I knew was a last-minute decision to start off this school year different than all the others. Despite her tireless attempts at straightening the ridiculous curls every morning, the wind seemed to take great delight in ruining it her first step out the door.

         “I know,” I replied with a groan, “You’ve said so at least every minute since school let out last year.”

         “I know, I know, but still it’s going to be great!” she enthused, practically bouncing in place. I rolled my eyes.

“I like your haircut by the way,” I smiled. If I responded more than a few sentences before acknowledging such a crucial change, I certainly would suffer for it later.

She smiled, knowing my thoughts without me having to say them. “Thank you,” she said, touching the curls self-consciously. Shortly after catching up with our other friends in the courtyard, the bell rang. All of us seasoned citizens of this school, no one jumped, we merely begrudgingly separated off toward class, roused by the unseen compulsion.

         I pulled a folded piece of paper from my jeans pocket and remembered my first period to be Acting 1 with Mrs. Robertson. Acting wasn’t particularly interesting or my cup of tea, but I couldn’t get Ceramics 1 with my schedule so I was forced to have Acting as my fine art credit. Mrs. Robertson was one of my teachers freshmen year, she loved me; this class would be a breeze.

         I weaved easily through the crowd of students filing into the school and made my way up the stairs to Mrs. Robertson’s room; being petite and short had its advantages at times. Bright, sentimental posters plastering the walls and desks paired in twos greeted me upon entering Mrs. Robertson’s room. It was like something out of kindergarten. I barely concealed my cringe. Mrs. Robertson stood at the front of the classroom in a blinding yellow sundress writing “Welcome Students!” on the whiteboard in careful cursive. The few students who milled around the room I recognized, this was not surprising, our high school being small and suburban.

         “Hello, Kristin, it’s nice to see you again this year,” Mrs. Robertson greeted me cheerily. She hadn’t changed at all in the three years since I last had her class last. Her blonde hair lay neatly in short layers tucked behind her ears, bright blue eyes still holding a smile for everyone, and a stature almost impossibly smaller than even mine somehow. It always bothered me how eerily happy and cheerful she was. I tried not to stare directly at her, it kind of felt like looking at the sun with her exuberant attitude and too bright dress.

         “You too, Mrs. Robertson,” I replied with a smile, portraying none of my true feelings. I walked over to a desk and took a seat.

         “Oh, I’m giving you seats in alphabetical order when the bell rings. Just stand at the back wall until we are ready,” Mrs. Robertson ordered me brightly. I did as she said, stifling a sigh. I watched the other students pour into the classroom and line up beside me after much prodding from Mrs. Robertson. She had almost no authority with the other students because she didn’t like to be stern, it was a rare event when a student actually listened to her.

         “Alright class, please line up against the wall. I’m giving you assigned seats in alphabetical order,” Mrs. Robertson called, her cheerful voice never faltering. I leaned against the back wall, waiting for her to control the class and call my name.

         “Ryder Grim, Kristin Hart,” She called several minutes later, having finally made some progress towards conducting a classroom. I walked to the pair of desks she stood beside and took the one she pointed to. The intense stares of my classmates weighed on me, heavy and palpable. I resisted the urge to bury myself right then and there. A guy sat in the other desk beside me. I didn’t recognize the name. Strange, thanks to Natasha’s insufferable curiosity I thought I knew all the seniors at this school. I peered at Ryder from the corner of my eye, using a thin veil of wavy brown hair to hide my gaze. His jet-black hair was gelled and stylishly tousled, almost long enough to hang in his eyes, which were the brightest green I had ever seen. Coupled with snow white, flawless skin and wiry muscles, he was quite a sight, even more so because I realized I really didn’t recognize him at all.

         “Kristin, this is Ryder, he’s new to our school this year, please be a dear and help him out,” Mrs. Robertson instructed, standing over my desk. I nodded obediently, and with a merry smile she returned to calling out names and assigning desks. Relief swallowed me as attention gradually shifted away from us again. I guess that explained things at least. A pang of pity sliced through me unexpectedly. All my awkward, lonely past first days of school as the new kid in town suddenly flashed behind my eyes. I turned to Ryder, determined to be welcoming, despite my usual shyness.

“I’m Kristin, it’s nice to meet you,” I introduced politely.

         “Ryder, pleasure,” He said curtly, his words harsh and clipped as if meeting me was absolutely the worst ordeal in the world. A flicker of surprise skipped through me, followed by an unwanted wave of rejection. I didn’t often go out of my way to reach out to others, and I certainly wasn’t expecting such a vehement response to a usually harmless gesture. He kept his stony, bright green eyes forward without even a glance in my direction. I worked to bite my sharp tongue and resist the urge to say something that would force him to turn to look at me, my instinct being to lash out with the hurt.

         “Well you seem nice,” I retorted sarcastically, half to myself. Well, at least I tried.

“I do my best,” He sneered coldly. I rolled my eyes and focused on class until the bell chimed again, refusing to engage him further. Now I could have a whole new reason to dread this class every morning.

         The class passed quicker than I expected; much to my delight. Most of the class period was wasted assigning seats and getting students to behave, the rest was spent just going over the syllabus, rules, and future class assignments; generic first day business. Ryder’s presence nagged at me through the entirety of the period, like a fly relishing in buzzing specifically in my ear. The bell rang. I jumped from my seat and fled to the hall, eager to retreat from my icy partner, the tangible tension between us was beginning to suffocate me towards the end.

         “Your partner seems super friendly,” A breathy voice called from behind me. I turned to see a short, plump girl with short black hair and a sweet smile.  

         “Oh hey, Katy, I didn’t even see you, we have Acting together?” I asked, slowing my stride to wait up for her. Katy’s smiled beamed at me from her round face, as always. She was the sweetest girl, kind to everyone, it was easy to quickly become her friend.

         “Yes,” She replied happily, almost childlike.

         “I’m so glad we have classes together this year too. I feel like I didn’t see you nearly enough this summer,” I commented with genuine pleasure. Katy wasn’t my best friend like Natasha or anything, but she had always been kind to me when Natasha and I got in a riff or when we shared classes in past school years. She let her layered black hair fall in her face as she asked to see my schedule. I pulled my schedule from my pocket again to compare, discovering Katy and I shared only one other class.

         “So who was that guy?” asked Katy, round cheeks turning bright red.

         “Ryder? I don’t know, he only said two words to me the whole class. He was pretty rude, actually,” I answered with a shrug.

         “That’s so weird, but he was seriously hot,” She admitted, grinning wildly and nudging my arm.

         I gave her a wry smile before replying, “Do not even think about it.”

         “Oh, come on! It’s been forever since you dated anyone! Eighth grade to be exact.” Katy prodded, wagging her eyebrows at me.

         I laughed, “Yes and I plan to keep it that way for a while longer. Ryder is a rude jerk and I’d consider myself lucky if I never had anything to do with him again! Besides, I’m headed off to college after this year, why would I want to start a relationship now?”

         “You’re so critical, maybe he’s just...shy? He is new this year” She replied, always coming to the defense of others.

         “Yeah, I sincerely doubt it. If it makes you feel better, I’ll see what Natasha knows about him,” I supplied, sneakily negotiating an escape. Katy’s grin collapsed and her full, pink lips pulled down. I sighed.

         “I really wish you and Natasha would just get along,” I said, shaking my head, but secretly happy for the redirection of conversation.

Katy snorted, “Unlikely.”

I rounded the corner approaching my class and Katy waved goodbye as she headed in the opposite direction to her next period. Just as I reached my next class, I noticed Ryder standing in the hall with his schedule in one hand and a map in the other. He twisted the map around and furrowed his brows; if he stared at the paper any more intently it would just spontaneously combust.

         I sighed and approached him, silently cursing my better nature. “What class are you going to?” I asked, just barely attempting civility. I was a sucker for people in need, even for rude jerks that made bad first impressions. Doesn’t everyone deserve a second chance?

         He jumped and turned to me. He was even more handsome when I stared at him directly. The paleness of his skin was striking against such dark black hair and his green eyes were practically luminescent. I quickly pushed that thought from my mind, not even wanting to admit it’d skidded through.

“Look, I don’t need your help, I can get around on my own,” He replied stonily.

         “What is your problem? I’m trying to help you! Why do you have to be so stubborn?!” I practically yelled, my temper flaring sharply. I snatched the schedule and map from his hand. I angled the map the right way and shoved it back at him.

         “Your next class is down the hall, third door on the right,” I fumed, relinquishing the schedule to him before turning sharply on my heel and stalking angrily to class. I should have just let him wonder lost, maybe he would have left, I half wished silently.

         I didn’t understand quite why I hated Ryder Grim so much already, especially when it was quite a feat to even make me angry, let alone produce hate. Perhaps it was the stubborn way he refused help or the insolent way he directed his every word in the direction of others. I liked to think I was above being hurt by his rejection at my attempt to be friendly to the new kid. It might even be jealousy at his utter perfection compared to my awkward, clumsy mannerisms. Regardless, he made my skin heat, my muscles itch to hit him, and more than anything, he made me not want to be within a ten-mile radius of him. I tried to simmer down and feign indifference, but I knew myself better.

         Besides that incident, I refused to allow my mind to recollect the boiling irritation of earlier, the rest of the day passed rather easily. We did all the usual first day of school nonsense.  AP Government followed into Calculus which turned into AP Literature then Lunch trailed by Teacher Assisting to AP Chemistry, and finally my long-awaited AP Psychology. A teacher named Sinclair taught AP Psychology, I had had a class of his every year since I started high school, as had Natasha; he was the best teacher on campus and everyone’s favorite.

I barely saw Ryder after first period, I let out a silent thank you to whoever was listening for that small stroke of luck. He was in my Chemistry class, but I sat as far away from him as the classroom would allow. Every time I saw him, I just got more and more steamed until even his name made me want to spit fire.

         I rushed for Sinclair’s class just in time to see Natasha practically dance through the door. I had only really seen Natasha in between classes. Natasha was in my AP Government class and this class, but that was it, not including lunch. Most teachers knew well enough now to separate us, or she would talk all through class. I followed her inside and we took our usual seats beside each other. Sinclair was different, there was an unspoken expectation in his classroom that not even Natasha dared challenge. We caught up with each other and asked about how school had gone so far, both of us had good things to report and I had all but forgotten my early morning encounter with Ryder. Unfortunately, the next time I glanced up he was walking briskly across the classroom and took a seat at the very back.

         I was careful to compose myself around Natasha, lest I give away my true displeasure, but she was too quick and knew me too well.

         “I see you’ve met the newest addition to our campus already,” Natasha mused, seeing right through me.  

“Ugh! Not him again,” I groaned, not hesitating to unleash the true force of my annoyance from this morning now that I was discovered. I hastily recapped the events of the morning for her benefit.

         Natasha laughed. “Wow, you hate someone already and it’s just the first day of school, you’ve learned so well from me,” she beamed with pride.

I shook my head, “Please, he’s just another stupid, immature boy to add to the already overly healthy collection at this school,” I muttered, stealing a glance in his direction at the back of the room. He sat perfectly straight and barely moving, looking very much like a statue.

         The late bell rang then, and Sinclair swept into the classroom with a brain in his hand. A fake brain, of course. Sinclair always rolled into class just as the late bell rang with some mysterious prop which our lesson for the day would focus on. It’s why everyone loved his class, he kept things interesting and didn’t waste time on stupid things like a syllabus or rules. That, and, in a lot of ways, he was kind of like a kid himself.

         “My name is Sinclair. Not Mr. Sinclair, that was my father’s name, just Sinclair or sir. The rules are: no cell phones, don’t talk while I’m talking, and do as I tell you. Follow the rules and we’ll have lots of fun, break the rules and your life in this class will be hell,” Sinclair explained in a stern, booming voice. New kids would be fooled by this strict façade, although Sinclair knew how to control a classroom, he loved all his students and made everything very fun. He gave the same introduction at the beginning of every year. “I gave you all a syllabus at orientation, I’m not going to waste time going over it with you, you can all read by now I hope,” he continued, several repeat students of his, like Natasha and I, laughed, “Today, we’re going to talk about the brain.” The rest of the class he showed us diagrams and models of the brain explaining each part and its role, it was all very fascinating. Natasha ate up every word and took notes. I’d never seen her so motivated. Sinclair had that strange effect on his students, no one wanted to disappoint him because no one could be disappointed in quite the same way Sinclair could be disappointed in you. Class passed quicker than I would have liked, at the last ten minutes he had us break off into groups to become more familiar with the brain models.

         “You know that guy you were talking about earlier? Ryder Grim? I heard about him earlier,” Natasha whispered to me as we broke apart models of the brain to peer inside. Natasha dealt in information. Every school had a rumor mill, but half of the information was false or misconceived. Natasha knew just about everything about everyone and all of it was one hundred percent true. I’m not particularly unpopular or popular, but Natasha hated about seventy-five percent of our school population and the other 24.5% was acquaintances, that last .5% was her real friends, like me. How she got all her information with that kind of social order astounded me, but I never asked, somehow, with Natasha, I was almost afraid to find out. Don’t be fooled though, she did spread a lot of information around school, but if I or anyone else told her a secret they didn’t want to get out, she would take it to her grave.

         I sighed and chuckled, “Why am I not surprised?”

         “Because you know me too well,” She answered with a devious smile, “Anyways, I heard he just moved here to live with his uncle, not too far from you actually. A lot of girls are already swooning over him, too. He’s in one of my classes.”

“How do you ever actually get work done with all this gossiping?” I joked, shaking my head.

“Work? What is this work you speak of?” Natasha asked in mock confusion, tilting her head so short, brown ringlets fell over her face.

I laughed, “I don’t even really care anymore, he’s just a jerk, and I’m not going to let him or anyone else bother me this year,” I vowed. The bell rang making us all jump, this time with eagerness to follow its prompting, as this bell released us home. I hoisted on my loaded down backpack and walked with Natasha to her white Prius.

[akaluan]

Erich/Kisuke/Alexis: Soulmate AU + Character in Peril Part 9

Erich tugs at the cuffs of his uniform as he ducks out of his tent and scans the camp. He promised Degurechaff that he would rest, but… there was only so much lazing about and cuddling with Alexis he could do before he became restless, especially in their current situation.

So… he won’t do anything official, but surely there’s no harm in wandering the camp and checking in on his men. He’d been too out of it to really get a feel for the camp when they arrived back after that last raid, so now is as good a time as any.

Alexis takes her place at his side, fully armored and wearing her grey Quincy uniform, and shoots him a small smile as they set off, wandering through the camp without much of a destination.

He introduces her to their remaining officers as he goes, making sure everyone knows who she is and that she’s permitted within their camp; all it takes is one easily startled guard seeing an unrecognized person, and…

Erich considers Alexis’ outfit, wondering if he should get her some marking, some indication that she’s with him. Something that his men already know as part of the army uniform, maybe…

He’ll have to think on it.

“General!”

Erich pauses and turns, looking back at the man striding to catch up with him. “Major Schwarz,” he greets his subordinate. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes sir, everything’s fine,” Schwarz says as he comes to a stop and salutes. “I was just surprised to see you out and about after Colonel Degurechaff told us you were taking the day to rest.”

He arches an eyebrow and says dryly, “There’s only so much of the same four tent walls a man can take, Major. I’m just showing my wife around, nothing that Colonel Degurechaff can take offense at. Speaking of which… Alexis, this is Major Ivo Schwarz, the commander of our infantry battalion when I am otherwise occupied. Major, this is my wife and soulmate, Alexis von Rerugen.”

“Hello, Major,” Alexis says with a kind smile and a small nod.

“A pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” Schwarz returns with a nod of his own, then gives Erich a faint, amused smile. “The Colonel and Major Weiss are currently speaking with our supply-master if you want to avoid her for a while longer, sir.”

“Thank you, Major.” He’s not entirely certain if ‘avoiding Degurechaff’ is warranted or not, but if she’s busy he probably shouldn’t bother her. She’ll tell him what she discovers later after all, there’s no need for him to watch over her shoulder as she does her job.

Schwarz’s smile grows a bit larger at Erich’s non-answer, and he tilts his head slightly, a sly gleam in his eyes. “Not sure how you feel about gambling, ma’am, but I did hear that some of the off-duty officers are meeting at the back of the mess tent, sir.”

“Would one of these officers happen to be Lieutenant Serebryakov, by chance?” Erich asks, amused but also exasperated by the idea that people still try to gamble against Degurechaff’s adjutant despite her streak of luck.

“There’s more than one reason the stakes were set low,” Schwarz all but confirms.

Erich sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, already knowing exactly how the game is going to go. But on the other hand, Degurechaff did tell him to take it easy; joining an officer’s game of cards — even if most of the remaining officers are well below his rank and he normally wouldn’t — certainly counts as ‘taking it easy’.

Alexis nudges him with her shoulder and arches an eyebrow at him in question. “Problem, love?”

“No, it’s just… Lieutenant Serebryakov is quite adept at cards. That anyone is still willing to play against her surprises me.”

Schwarz snorts. “Lieutenant Serebryakov has the devil’s own luck. We’re just waiting for it to run out.”

Erich arches an eyebrow at his officer, amused by the turn of phrase considering Degurechaff’s most well known moniker. “You might be waiting a long time for that.”

“It’s a small price to pay for the chance at some of her stash,” Schwarz says with a grin. “Just a suggestion, sir. There aren’t enough officers left to make a really good game from just the people off-duty, so they’ll probably let you in.”

“Better I break the rules than them, hm?” Erich asks in amusement, then slants a questioning glance at Alexis. She plays cards, but whether she’ll want to play with officers under his command or not…

“Well, if that’s an invitation, I’m certainly interested,” she says with a nod to Schwarz.

“More the merrier, ma’am.”

Alexis hums and leans into Erich a bit. “If you don’t mind, husband-mine…?”

“We certainly have time. Thank you, Major. Will you be joining us?”

“Not quite yet,” Schwarz says with an apologetic smile. “Got a bit of work to get done first, and a report to write up for you to look over later, sir.”

“Let me know if you need anything from me,” Erich says, receiving a nod in return, and steps aside to allow Schwarz to continue on his way. He watches the man go, thinking on his words; if there aren’t enough officers with free time for a good game of poker…

Alexis nudges his shoulder to draw his attention back to her. “Set it aside and let your subconscious work out a solution,” she tells him. “Let’s go see how badly your men play, shall we?”

“They play terribly because Serebryakov is going to be there to make them all look terrible,” he tells her dryly, even as he turns to head towards the mess tent. He knows exactly where the game is set up, because he’s neither blind nor forgetful; it’s a common enough spot for people to gather and has been since the beginning of the war.

Not exactly how he expected to spend a few hours but…

There are worse ways to pass the time.

***

“Four’s a bit light for a game, isn’t it?” Erich asks lightly as he rounds the carefully arranged stack of crates and takes in the small table with Serebryakov and three others from Degurechaff’s magic battalion around it. As he expected, Serebryakov already has a small pile of tokens at her side while the others have less, but the stakes look harmless enough.

(It’s even carved wooden tokens instead of coin, so he can politely pretend that nothing against the rules is going on.)

“Sir!” all four say as they hastily scramble to their feet, cards forgotten for the moment.

“As you were. I’m not exactly on duty, right now,” he tells them, pleased when at least some of the tension leaves their posture. He gestures to Alexis and says, “Major Schwarz mentioned that the game was a bit empty and suggested we might join.”

Serebryakov blinks and looks up at Alexis. “You play, ma’am?”

“I’ve been known to,” Alexis agrees.

The four exchange looks, and Erich can tell they’re debating whether to let them in; it’s awkward enough with their commanding officer ‘asking’ to join, but a civilian as well? He wouldn’t be surprised if they found a way to redirect him somewhere else; Serebryakov is cunning enough to pull it off without seeming like that’s what she’s doing, but…

“Alright!” Serebryakov says cheerfully, dropping back into her seat and picking up her hand of cards. “We’ll deal you in next round, then! Ah… but I guess you don’t have any tokens, do you sir?” She hums and eyes the pot in the center, then her stack of tokens, and nods decisively. “I’ll give you some, then.”

“Thank you,” Erich says as he pulls a chair out for Alexis and then settles into a second, leaning back to watch the last of the game play out. At his side, Alexis watches with sharp eyes, amusement-interest-focus growing as Serebryakov continues to trounce her opponents with a smile.

It’s over before very long, with Serebryakov showing off a hand made of four tens and a jack, winning her the pot. She rakes it in and quickly stacks it up, even as Koenig gathers the cards and begins to shuffle them.

Serebryakov slides two stacks of tokens to him, another two to Alexis, then sits back with a pleased smile. “Here you go! We’re playing five card draw, one token ante, five token maximum per bet or raise, no limit on how many raises happen.”

“I’m surprised at how low that is,” Erich says as he picks up the cards dealt to him and considers his hand; a pair of sevens and little else of value.

She shrugs and flashes him one of her brightest — and most dangerous — smiles. “It’s standard on any game I’m part of, though I’m not sure why…”

Neumann, sitting on Serebryakov’s other side, scoffs and sends Serebryakov’s stack of tokens — still large despite giving some to both Alexis and Erich — a pointed look. “I wouldn’t know why,” he says dryly as he arranges his cards in his hand.

“Me neither,” Grantz agrees as he eyes his cards and then everyone else, gaze skipping half-nervously over Erich. “Guess we’ll never know.”

Alexis laughs at their easy banter. “Pass,” she decides after a moment.

“Pass,” Erich agrees, not yet willing to bet on a single pair.

Grantz sets two more tokens in the pot and leans back with a smile. “Well, I’m going to bet.”

Neumann huffs a laugh and sets three tokens in, shooting Grantz a challenging look as he does. Serebryakov easily puts three in as well, Koenig shakes his head and folds, and then it’s back to Alexis, who shrugs and tosses three into the pot.

“Fold,” Erich decides as he tosses his cards into the discard pile and sits back, unwilling to face off against Serebryakov while relying on luck.

(He’s going to need enough of that tonight as it is, he doesn’t need to push it here for a friendly game.)

Amusement-warmth-exasperation filters through from Alexis, and he counters it with fondness-anticipation-just wait as he watches the game move on and Koenig deal out replacement cards for people.

This time, Alexis bets and Grantz folds, and then Serebryakov bets and Neumann folds and then—

Alexis grins. Raises the bet higher. Meets Serebryakov’s gaze and arches an eyebrow in challenge.

“I’m good,” Serebryakov announces as she matches Alexis’ bet and then lays her cards out, showing a full house.

Alexis hums and lays her cards down, her own, slightly higher ranked full house on display. “My match this time,” she announces as she sweeps the pot to her under the surprised stare of the four Lieutenants. “I believe it’s my turn to deal?”

“Oh—right, sorry,” Koenig says as he shakes his head and gathers up the cards to pass to her along with the dealer’s token.

She takes the deck and begins to shuffle, talented fingers making the motions look effortless, and Erich spots the other three men sharing a concerned look as they realize that Alexis’ statement of ‘I’ve been known to play’ is actually an understatement.

She deals the cards out and sets the deck aside to pick up her hand as everyone sets a token in the pot.

Erich makes his bet — he has a better hand this time, though he suspects it’s not a winning one — and waits.

It goes much the same as last round; quick and easy bets and matches, Neumann dropping out immediately, replacement cards that don’t work for him at all, and he’s out again.

The rounds continue. He loses more than he wins because between Alexis and Serebryakov most of the luck has already been stolen, but that’s alright. The longer they play together the more relaxed the four magic lieutenants become and the easier the banter comes. It’s good in a way he hadn’t known he needed, this casual connection where people aren’t looking to him to solve all their problems.

He still bows out when Schwarz shows up, passing his much-depleted stack of tokens to Alexis and moving his chair so he can sit closer to her and give Schwarz some space. He’s never been the best — or most interested — in card games, unlike Alexis, so having someone take his place is no trouble. It’s almost a relief, in fact, because now he can sit back and just enjoy the atmosphere without having to concentrate on anything.

Degurechaff was right; already he feels more like himself instead of a tangled mess of emotions.

(A day to do what he pleased was exactly what he needed.)

(He almost feels ready to face the Reaper once more.)

(Now if only he knew what to do about the war…)

[davidthetraveler]

David’s Fic-Rec Friday:  2020/03/13

Hey guys.  Sorry about the past couple of weeks.  Things have been... complicated.  And apparently it wasn’t the best idea to restart this series on Friday the 13th, as my computer froze while I was working on this and I had to do a hard restart, which deleted the first version of this post I made requiring me to have to go back through all my notes to remake it.  But at least I’m back now and we can get on with the recommendations.

Loneliness by AprilLilypegasi (aka @anxiously-unsatisfied-world)

To start off, we’ve got a sweet Logicality story.  Logan can sometimes forget to stop working after a while, but he can always tell when he does because of how lonely he gets.  After logicing himself into quitting for the night, he goes in search of comfort, and eventually finds his way to Patton’s room.  Invited in, he finds Patton knitting in bed, and when invited he immediately curls up next to him as he continues quietly.  Eventually, Patton invites him to stay the night, and he agrees with clingy gusto, as the two curl up together and fall into a restful sleep.  Such a wonderful tale.

you’re different by curiouscrush (aka @curiouscrushinc)

Here we’ve got a human au featuring analogical that’s up for interpretation.  Logan and Virgil are out on a hilltop looking at the stars and discussing novels.  Eventually Virgil points out how he likes that Logan is so different from anyone else Virgil knows while he feels like just another emo.  Logan reciprocates with his own views concerning Virgil’s uniqueness, and the two share a nice moment of friendly bonding.  Simple and sweet.

Fireflies by anamaleth (aka @anamaleth)

Now for some romantic Prinxiety to get my inner fanboy to shut up for a bit.  Virgil’s suffering from insomnia, but Roman’s being rather clingy and doesn’t just want Virgil to leave.  After a bit he comes up with an idea and summons a swarm of fireflies into his room to show Virgil.  And Virgil’s awe-inspired and adorable reaction is absolutely worth it for Roman.  Another short but sweet little story.

A Human Life by boredomsMuse (aka @boredomsmuse)

Now for a slightly less sweet outing, this time in a supernatural world featuring demons, witches, vampires, and even changelings.  Roman and Remus are twins, raised by a vampire named Virgil who found them after their parents abandoned them as babies.  Roman was supposed to be a changeling to replace Remus, but something went wrong and both boys were left behind.  And because of that, Roman feels guilty for robbing Remus of the normal human life he could have had, especially as he feels he has stopped aging.  But Virgil suggests that the two go traveling, to see the human world beyond the village that so derides them for their circumstances, and to help each other understand what they truly want their lives to be.  There are references of course to child abandonment, and obviously this features Remus and some supernatural elements, but it’s otherwise harmless and a great read.

Happiness by BlackWolfFire (aka @lizdoesprompts)

Another less than happy entry, this one is another Human AU featuring Moxiety that could be seen as either Romantic or Platonic.  Virgil is tired of having spent so long pretending to be happy when he knows he’s not.  But a chance encounter brings Patton into his life, and suddenly things are a little easier.  True, his bad days are still bad, and his thoughts can still turn dark.  But Patton makes it easier to face his complicated tangle of emotions, and for once he’s truly happy.  A wonderfully uplifting story.

Logan’s Diary by MarsupialsOfMars (aka @marsupials-of-mars)

An interesting character study in the form of a series of journal entries.  Logan decides to start an emotion journal at Patton’s suggestion so as to have a true scientific understanding of them.  What follows is eight excerpts from this journal over the years, from Thomas’ adolescence up through the most recent full video released (as of this posting).  There are mentions of complicated emotions and relationships, and it does mention Remus, but is otherwise okay.  And it’s a fascinating look at our resident cool teacher.

that’s not my name by enbyprinceroman (aka @lovelydodie)

Another prinxiety story that, while not outright romantic, definitely leans in that direction.  Roman is the resident enby scene painter for their school’s drama group.  But the group’s lead actor (an Unsympathetic version of Deceit) finds it necessary to misgender and deadname them whenever they address them.  Luckily, Virgil is there to knock some sense into him (literally), and to get Roman home safely to their shared apartment when they disassociate due to trauma.  As stated previously, this features graphic depictions of misgendering, deadnaming, disassociation, and a very Unsympathetic Deceit.  But if you can get through all that, you’re in for quite the good read.

Two Twins by dreemurrgirl (Tumblr Account Unknown)

To end it this week, we’ve got a slightly bittersweet tale of the two creativitwins from the time before the troubles in Thomas’ mind.  Roman and Remus as kids just love to play together in the imagination.  And while there is all of the complications yet to come, for now they just love being together.  Obviously this features Remus, and there’s some very obvious allusions to the current complicated climate in Thomas’ mindscape.  But it’s still quite an adorable read.

*****

And this week’s Featured Fic Writer is:

[Insert Your Proposed Name Here]

Yes, that’s right.  I’m asking you guys for your suggestions for writers to feature here in this segment.  To recommend someone, simply drop a note in my inbox or reblog this post here and I’ll add them to my consideration list.  There are no official rules or regulations for this, besides the fact that they should be Sanders Sides fanfic writers, but it is suggested that you focus on small time writers who aren’t as well known as the big players.

*****

Well, that’s it for this week.  I hope you guys enjoy these stories and give these authors some well deserved love and attention with some kudos, some comments, and maybe even a bookmark or two.

Also, if you’d like to know more about the Fic-Rec Friday project, or would like to see previous weeks’ recommendations, you can find all that information through my Fic-Rec Friday Masterpost.

And if you’d like to added to the Fic-Rec Friday Tag List, or if you’re already on the list and would like to be removed, just drop a note in my inbox and I’ll take care of it.

Until next time guys, be safe, and happy reading!

General Tag List:

@ultimate-queen-of-fandoms2 @panicattheeverywheremcr

Fic-Rec Friday Tag List:

@kunnuglegur-tortimandi @max-is-tired @creativity-killed-thekitten

[purrincess-chat]

Marinette Dupain-Cheng's Spite Playlist: Original CH2

That’s right, two chapters at once! I told you guys I was writing a lot this past week. I pinky swore!

Previous    Next

Chapter 2

Marinette’s new school was bigger than the last, and she suddenly felt very tiny standing before the castle of a building. Several students shuffled in through the front doors, and she could already tell that things were much different here. The air was different, and people carried themselves with a sense of self-importance she usually only saw out of Chloe. Though she supposed this was a private school for rich socialites, yet another thing that reminded her just how different she was from her new classmates, but nevertheless, she trudged on, slipping by unnoticed as she found her way to her new class.

Inside the room, students were broken up into groups all chatting casually with each other, and Marinette pictured similar scenes in Mlle. Bustier’s classroom that had never daunted her like this did. She didn’t recognize any of these faces, nor did they pay her any mind as she stood awkwardly at the front of the room. For a moment, she felt a sinking feeling in her stomach as if this were a bad idea, but soon their teacher entered the room and offered her the first smile she’d received all day.

“You must be Marinette, right?” He asked cheerfully, and she felt herself relax a little.

“Yes.” She nodded.

“Welcome to our school. I’m Mr. Mercier.” He extended a hand for her to shake. “Don’t be intimidated by the groups; most of my students are very friendly, so I’m sure you’ll make friends quickly.”

“Thank you,” she said with a smile, turning to face the front as Mr. Mercier clapped his hands to get everyone’s attention.

“Alright, class, settle down and find your seats,” he said, and students began to shuffle into place. “We have a new student joining us today. Her name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng, so please help her find her way today.” He turned back to face her and pointed to an empty seat in the middle. “You can sit next to Eliott just be sure he doesn’t talk your ear off.”

A boy with dark skin and poofy hair flashed her a devilish grin and extended a hand as she took her seat.

“I’m Eliott, aspiring actor and the boy of your dreams,” he said, waggling his eyebrows, and Marinette blinked at him before a girl behind them reached over and swatted his arm.

“Don’t take him seriously, he’s trying to stay in character for his performance later,” the girl whispered with an eye roll. “My name’s Macy by the way.”

“Marinette,” she replied, and Macy gave her a kind smile.

“Sit with us at lunch, okay?” She insisted, and Eliott lifted her hand to his lips.

“Yes, I’d like to know more about my soulmate,” he said smoothly before kissing her knuckles.

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep him in line,” Macy rolled her eyes, pinching the base of his neck hard until he turned to face the front with a soft yelp.

Marinette bit back a smile as she retrieved her tablet from her bag and tuned into the lesson. Maybe things wouldn’t be so bad there after all. So far everyone was incredibly nice, but as she would soon learn, not every face was friendly.

“That’s the library,” Macy said between classes as they walked, pointing to a large wooden door. “Down that hall is the chemistry lab, and upstairs on the left is the cafeteria.”

“Thanks for showing me around,” Marinette said, rubbing her arm and pursing her lips.

“No problem! Moving to a new school must be really scary, so I know I’d want someone to show me around,” she waved it away.

“So, what prompted you to change schools?” Eliott asked, shoving his hands in his pockets as they walked.

“Um,” Marinette averted her gaze, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I just thought that change would be good for me, that’s all.”

“Whatever the reason, I am happy that fate has brought us together,” he bowed before her, and Macy shoved him slightly causing him to stumble.

“I apologize for Eliott. I’ve known him since we were little, so I’m used to him, but there’s really no way to explain him,” she said shooting him a teasing glare. “He’s harmless though.”

“He certainly reminds me of someone I know,” Marinette remarked, pressing her lips together to hide her smirk.

“And for that I am very sorry for you,” Eliott chuckled as they rounded the corner into their literature class.

“Can you not stand so close to my desk? I don’t want you breathing my air,” a tall girl with long red hair ordered another student as they entered waving her hands in a typical ‘shoo’ motion. The small boy curled his shoulders and slinked off to a desk at the back of the room as his aggressor and several friends laughed. Eliott and Macy exchanged tense looks before motioning for Marinette to sit at the other end of the room.

“Who are they?” Marinette asked in a hushed tone.

“No one worth knowing,” Macy replied, shaking her head.

“Their families have been rich for generations, so they think they’re better than everyone. The redhead’s name is Gabrielle and the big dude sitting next to her is her boyfriend Thomas. He plays lacrosse, and his family owns a castle out in the country.” Eliott explained. “The other three are just their shadows. They follow them everywhere just for the perks because they can bribe the smart kids to do their homework.”

“Sounds a lot like someone I used to know,” Marinette grumbled.

“Every school has at least one it seems,” Macy said, rolling her eyes. “Just ignore them.”

Marinette glanced back at the boy at the back of the room with his face buried in his arms and felt her heart sink a little, but she turned back to face the front as their teacher entered the room and began her lesson.

After literature was art, a class Marinette actually looked forward to. After spending the day in all gray, she was dying to design something colorful. The art room was much more sophisticated than she was used to, and she found herself missing the lingering scent of spray paint from one of Alix’s projects, though she was soon distracted by the large and intricately detailed sculpture of her in the center of the room. Or rather, a sculpture of Ladybug. She didn’t realize that she was staring with her jaw open like a weirdo until their art teacher spoke up from behind her.

“Do you like it?” She asked, and Marinette nearly jumped out of her skin which stirred up mocking laughter from Gabrielle and her posse.

“I- uh, yes, it’s amazing,” she said lamely, clasping her hands together in front of her.

“Thank you. I put many long hours of work into it, so I’m glad that someone appreciates it.” She offered Marinette a smile that made her nerves melt away.

“I’m sure if Ladybug saw it, she would love it too,” Marinette said before taking her seat at a table with Eliott and Macy.

“What a freak,” Gabrielle laughed from her table, purposefully loud enough for Marinette to hear.

“Just ignore her,” Macy said, patting her shoulder.

“Alright, class, today we will be presenting our art projects that we’ve been working on. Marinette, you can just sit back and enjoy everyone’s contributions for today,” she said with a wink. “Who would like to go first?”

A hush fell over the room before Macy raised her hand. “I will, Mme. Pierre.”

“Thank you, Macy.” The teacher gestured her to the front of the room before stepping aside.

“For my project I wrote a song about my friends,” she said, clasping her hands together in front of her and drawing in a breath before she started to sing, and Marinette felt her jaw drop. Utterly entranced through the whole performance, Marinette only came too again when Eliott closed her jaw, and she began clapping with everyone else, cheeks pink with embarrassment.

“You were incredible!” She whispered when Macy sat back down.

“My throat is a little sore today, so it could have been better,” she shrugged, but Marinette wasn’t convinced that her voice could sound any more angelic than it already was.

“Macy wants to be a professional singer, so she’s been taking voice lessons since she was little,” Eliott said, nudging her with his elbow. “She’s just being modest.”

“Eliott, would you care to go next?” Mme. Pierre asked, and he winked at Marinette as he stood up and took his place at the front of the room.

“I will be performing a scene from my favorite play,” he said, before clearing his throat and diving straight into his act.

Marinette felt her cheeks flush as he trained his eyes on her, spilling out profound declarations of love and adoration with the most tender of expressions.

It seemed that everyone at this school was exceptionally talented as she soon discovered when each of her remaining classmates presented paintings, sculptures, makeup, songs, and even dance routines each seemingly more impressive than the last. She began to worry that maybe she wasn’t cut out for this school after all.

“Thank you everyone,” Mme. Pierre said once everyone had finished. “Marinette, I know you are new here, but what medium do you prefer?”

“I, uh, like to design,” she replied, curling her shoulders a little.

“Hey, I think I’ve heard your name before…” One student piped up.

“Yeah, didn’t you design a hat for Adrien Agreste in his most recent fashion show?” One of Gabrielle’s posse spoke up excitedly.

“Well, I won a contest at my old school, and-”

“I heard that Gabriel was the one who selected the winner,” another student said.

“Well, yeah, he did-” Several of her classmates gasped in awe before a hushed chatter broke out around her.

“Didn’t you also design an album cover for Jagged Stone?”

“I heard your great uncle is a world-famous chef!”

“You’re Adrien’s girlfriend, right?”

“I-” Marinette drawled until the bell rang, signaling lunch, and everyone stood up to leave.

“Is all that stuff really true, Marinette?” Eliott asked as they walked to the cafeteria, the remaining traces of his flirtatious demeanor fading now that his scene was over.

“Yeah, I guess it is,” she shrugged.

“Wait, so you are dating Adrien Agreste?” Macy gasped, clutching her arm.

“I- what? He’s just, well, I want to-” She shook herself. “All of them are true except that one. Adrien is just a good friend.”

Former friend rather, but Marinette would spare them the details.

“But you do know him?”

“Yeah, he was in my class,” she confirmed, flinching a little as Macy erupted into a squealing fit.

“Oh, can you pretty please introduce me? We can all hang out on my yacht this weekend!” She begged.

“You have a yacht?” Marinette quirked a brow.

“You don’t?” Eliott chuckled, sobering when she winced. “Wait, you really don’t?”

“I can get you one for your birthday if you want one,” Macy offered, and Marinette rubbed the back of her neck.

“I’m starting to think I really don’t belong here,” she sighed.

“What? How come?” Macy’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Because everyone here is filthy rich and super talented, and they all speak 4 languages, and I’m just…ordinary,” she explained with a shrug, and Macy and Eliott exchanged incredulous looks.

“Your great uncle is a world-famous chef,” Eliott said pointedly.

“Yeah, and your designs have been praised by the king of fashion himself and Jagged Stone,” Macy added.

“Not to mention you’re friends with Adrien Agreste and Chloe Bourgeois.”

“Ehh,” Marinette waved her hand at the last one.

“I think you belong here just fine, Marinette,” Eliott assured her, and she felt her cheeks warm, though her flattery was short lived when Gabrielle’s voice sounded from the middle of the cafeteria.

“Did you hear me? I said move,” she growled at the boy from the art room.

“What’s that girl’s problem?” Marinette grunted in disgust.

“She’s got a lot of money and a power-complex,” Eliott sighed, grabbing a tray. “Best to just ignore her and stay out of her way.”

“But they’re picking on that poor boy.”

“Better him than you,” Macy said. “Trust me.”

Marinette’s jaw clenched as she watched them take his lunch, seething when he cowered before them. She remembered what it felt like to be on the receiving end of that, and she wasn’t going to stand by while someone else was tormented.

“Where are you going? Marinette, just don’t- ah!” Macy and Eliott tried to call her back as she stormed over to the group causing a scene.

“Why don’t you go eat your lunch in the trash can where you belong?” Gabrielle said, waving her hand. “Thomas, can you help him find his way?”

Thomas cracked his knuckles and lifted the boy from his seat, but before he made it far, Marinette slapped her tray on the table across from him.

“Thanks for saving the table,” she said with a smile as everyone around stared at her dumbstruck.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Gabrielle snarled.

“Having lunch,” she replied simply, taking a bite of bread.

“Look, you’re new here, so you might not understand how this works, but this is our table,” Gabrielle said slowly.

“But this is where I always sit,” the boy cried.

“Yeah, well now we want to sit here,” Thomas said, holding him off the ground.

“Why are you making it such a big deal? There are plenty of other empty ones available,” Marinette suggested, nodding to an adjacent table.

“Because we want this one,” Gabrielle snapped, slamming her palm down.

“Why? Because it’s so much better than all the other tables or because you just like to throw your weight around?” Gabrielle’s jaw clenched in response, so Marinette stood up and crossed her arms over her chest. “I’ve dealt with brats like you before. You don’t scare me, and everyone else around here might let you walk all over them, but hi, I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng, and I’m not gonna stand for it, so you can take your power-trip and sit it somewhere else.”

Gabrielle held her glare for a moment before Marinette jutted her chin at Thomas.

“Put him down,” she ordered.

The cafeteria fell into stunned silence as Marinette sat back down nonchalantly and took a bite of her apple before a few students began to clap. Their applause escalated until the whole room was cheering, prompting an eye roll from Gabrielle who snapped for Thomas to comply before they retreated to another table. Macy and Eliott sat beside her with equally awed gapes.

“Okay, I think I’m in love with you for real now,” Eliott said with a wide grin.

“Thank you for saving me,” the small boy spoke up, straightening his coat. “They dump me in the trash about three times a week.”

“Not anymore,” Marinette assured him, gesturing to the seat across from her. “Sit and eat with us.”

“O-Okay.” He sat down obediently and lowered his gaze to his tray.

“What’s your name?” Marinette asked conversationally.

“Martin…”

“Nice to meet you, Martin. I’m Marinette,” she smiled sweetly.

“How did you stand up to her like that?” Macy asked quietly, leaning forward. “I would have been terrified, but you sounded so confident.”

“Well, a friend of mine once told me that all that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good people do nothing,” she said, face falling a little. “An old friend anyway.”

“I like that,” Macy remarked before a devilish grin spread across her lips. “So, is Adrien as cute in person as he is in photos?”

“Cuter,” Marinette giggled scandalously. “And he’s super nice.”

“You are so lucky!”

“Here they go,” Eliott rolled his eyes.

The rest of her day was busy and exciting as more of her new classmates introduced themselves and complimented her designs or praised her courage in the cafeteria. Gabrielle shot her glares every now and then, but she paid them no mind. She’d dealt with worse.

Everything seemed to be falling into place for her until she arrived back home to see a familiar mop of blond hair waiting outside her door.

“Adrien?” She gasped, heart tightening into a knot in her chest as he turned to her with a somber expression.

“Hey, Marinette. Can we talk?”

[stevenuniversallyreviews]

Bismuth

Steven Universe is a show about solving problems with healthy communication instead of violence. It’s also a show so centered around fighting that our main characters have signature weapons that act as literal extensions of themselves. 

Not every episode has an action sequence, and not every action sequence is a fight, but this series is no stranger to glamorizing combat. For all its talk about how true strength means more than physical might, the use of physical might to hurt others isn’t always frowned upon, even by our peaceful hero. To compensate for this dissonance, fights that would normally leave fatal wounds instead end in a process so harmless that they called it “poofing.” 

Our ninety-eighth episode begins not with a title card, but a dramatic-looking scene that’s soon revealed to have no stakes, capped with Steven bemoaning that “dying a bunch in video games is emotionally exhausting.” The temporary nature of death is ingrained in his life—his very existence involved his mother not quite dying, but becoming half of him—and while the show at this point has acknowledged that violence can scar the body and soul, the only permanent consequences we’ve seen precede Steven’s existence. Shattering, the Cluster, and Corruption are ancient history, and were actions taken by the villains our heroes rebelled against. We’ve never had to deal with the moral implications of ending a life, and because this is a kid’s show there’s a chance we never would have, because the game isn’t quite as fun once permanent consequences are in play.

After a comedic foray into Lion’s mane, Steven pops a mysterious bubble we saw all the way back in Lion 3, flies back into his room, and shouts that he’s made a horrible mistake. And after the initial reaction from the other Crystal Gems, we linger in the room to get one last message from his television screen before he jumps back in:

Game Over.

“We are the Crystal Gems!”

I love everything about the title reveal of this episode. I love that we have to wait for it, so we’re forced to pay extra attention when it arrives. I love the not-quite-still shot of our two leads sizing each other up as the name of our episode and new character slowly fades in. And I love the chill but chilling music that sets the stage for the life-changing story ahead of our hero. 

Aivi and Surasshu give characters distinct instrumentation, Peter and the Wolf style, but folks like Rose, Greg, Connie, Lapis, Peridot, and even Lion also have distinct motifs (sometimes a few, in the case of Rose and Lapis) using these instruments. The four main Crystal Gems are unique in that they’re defined mainly by their sound: Garnet is the bass holding everything together, Amethyst is the drumkit keeping up the tempo, Pearl is the piano accompanying others, and Steven subs out a traditional main instrument for chiptunes (many people have pointed this out, but I think this video does the best job of exploring it). Garnet as a concept eventually gets a motif that largely appears when fusion is involved, but the principle of associating these four main characters primarily through instruments holds true throughout the series.

Bismuth is a Crystal Gem, too. And whether it’s intentional or not, I love that this is shown by her lack of a distinct theme song, leaving her represented by her instrument in the same way as our big four. And the instrument we get for a heavy metal stuck in the past is a reverse electric guitar.

On the subject of sound, we just started and I've already waited too long to talk about Uzo Aduba. Bismuth is beautifully animated and has a stunning design, and the extra large crew for this two-parter did wonders on her facial expressions and body language to breathe life into the character, but all of it would've fallen short without a magnificent voice actor tying it together. This is a complicated and ambiguous figure, who laughs hard and burns hot but knows how to keep quiet, and Aduba hits every emotional beat with ease. 

Aduba is especially talented in humanizing Bismuth’s rage, balancing loud shouts with twinges of sadness and jolly war stories with drops of venom. Her monologue in the Forge is one of many examples of Aduba’s greatness: after building up fervent momentum as she works with burning lava, she lowers her voice to a triumphant but menacing whisper when revealing that she chose to create weaponry. Aduba made a splash by finding a real person in a character reduced to the nickname “Crazy Eyes” on Orange is the New Black, and while Bismuth might not be as extreme of a role, she’s made great by an actress who refuses to dumb down angry women.

Bismuth is a zealot, but why wouldn’t she be? She faced the same oppression that drove the other Crystal Gems to rebel, and is mentally right in the thick of it while Garnet and Pearl have had thousands of years to move on. The leader that inspired and encouraged her to build weapons not only refused to use the Breaking Point, but fought her, bubbled her, and lied about it. We see it in Bismuth’s face the moment Rose is first mentioned around her, and even though this could be read as concern over her leader’s whereabouts, our knowledge that Rose’s version of events clashes with Bismuth’s hiding place sets off early warning bells. 

Bismuth’s wordplay here is perfect for a character who often means multiple things at once: “Rose really is something else” works as a commentary on how strange Rose was, as a reference to her physically becoming something else, and as another hint of Bismuth’s true feelings about her leader’s betrayal. Her clever use of language soon becomes ingrained as a character trait: we obviously get the triple pun on her name (not three puns, but the same pun three times), but I’m a bigger sucker for the phrase “upper crust” playing off her disdain of Gem elites with geological terminology. It’s great to see such cleverness when characters with massive frames and aggressive attitudes are so rarely graced with wit.

Bismuth is angry, but she’s more than her anger. It’s balanced by (and caused by) her huge heart. She gets along famously with Garnet and Pearl, and cares deeply for her fallen friends, but she’s just as warm with Amethyst and Steven. An underrated element of Bismuth is that it doesn’t forget that Amethyst is in the middle of a major arc: even though she’s not the focus of the episode, she’s still reeling from her fight with Jasper and is uncomfortable around another huge interloper in her life, this time someone whose existence furthers the notion that Amethyst isn’t a “proper” Crystal Gem. So Amethyst is awkward at first, then sows seeds of suspicion when Steven is entranced. It speaks well of Bismuth that she treats Amethyst as an equal worthy of respect without question, and Amethyst soon comes around when Bismuth praises and upgrades her whip. This giant-sized episode is the clear product of long-term planning and collaboration, but it still remembers to tell a quick Amethyst story to keep us invested in her ongoing development.

But it’s Bismuth’s relationship with Steven that makes up the bulk of the plot, and as dumb as it might sound, the character she reminds me of most is Tim Curry’s version of Long John Silver from legitimate classic film Muppet Treasure Island; yes, Long John Silver in general works for this analogy, but Tim Curry is the definitive version, fight me. Bismuth isn’t as treacherous as old Long John, but they share the tightrope act of being at odds with young protagonists that they earnestly like. There’s nothing fake about their moments of bonding and pseudo-parental advice, and while both are angling to convert a child hero to a questionable cause, it’s done in part to maintain a friendly relationship. Again, Silver is more of an outright villain—his lust for gold lacks the nuance of Bismuth’s well-intentioned justification of extreme violence—but these are gregarious antagonists that our heroes build meaningful connections with, and ultimately learn lasting lessons from. 

Steven is all in on Bismuth’s ardor at first, grinning with shared passion after she rallies the team to keep fighting Homeworld. He’s a little less on board upon seeing Amethyst’s weapon upgrade, and his unease grows during the sparring session, but for all her intensity, Bismuth is fine with him not wanting to fight. She welcomes his own “rituals” with glee, and even though our first look at this sees her spiking a birdie into the sand so hard that the beach explodes, the montage otherwise shows her fitting right in. Even the foreshadowing of Bismuth’s views on weapon lethality during Lonely Blade is lighthearted, with the bonus of showing us how far Pearl has come in regards to fiction since Steven the Sword Fighter.

It all comes together in a poignant discussion about Rose. This is the last time she’s ever spoken of in a purely positive light before the story of her shattering Pink Diamond comes out; not every conversation about her is negative after this reveal, it’s never quite the same. We focus on Rose as a champion of differences: this is the Rose who said a servile pearl could be a warrior, who accepted a new fusion when nobody else would, who told a runty amethyst she was perfect the way she was. Bismuth is telling us what we already know, but personalizes it, showing how inspired she was by it, and Steven reacts to this umpteenth version of the Rose Was Great speech by admitting his fears of not measuring up for the second episode in a row.

Bismuth’s response sums up the entire lesson of Steven’s original series arc, and it’s such a moving affirmation when paired with Change Your Mind:

“You are different. That’s what’s so exciting. You don’t have to be like Rose Quartz, you can be someone even better. You can be you.”

The tragedy is that this hopeful message is undercut by Bismuth’s idea that a “better” Steven is one who uses deadly force. And the speech as a whole is further marred by a subtle hint of Rose’s mendacity: Bismuth mentions that she was “just another quartz soldier, made right here in the dirt,” but even before the Pink Diamond reveal, we already know Rose is from Homeworld from earlier episodes like Rose’s Scabbard. Retrospect enhances the sensation, tinging the uplifting speech with the kind of gray that we’re going to see a lot more of in the future.

There’s an awful inevitability to the ensuing fight as our heroes descend into the Forge, coming right of the heels of Bismuth telling Steven they need an alternative to fighting fair. Steven repeats his progression of reactions towards Bismuth all at once: first confused, then super excited, then gradually realizing something isn’t sitting right. But this time we can’t end with a day at the beach.

(The mood is ruined a little by the adorable commercial transition, and the summarization of the scene upon cutting back from commercials in a way this eleven minute show has never dealt with, but fortunately the bulk of the scene goes uninterrupted.)

Steven obviously isn’t going to use the Breaking Point, and we get a prolonged shot of them standing at odds in mirrored positions from their title card encounter before Bismuth’s hand tightens into a fist. To her, this isn’t a fight with Steven, but a continuation of her fight with Rose, and her anger at her deception is fueled further by the not unreasonable assumption that Rose is still lying as Steven. In Bismuth’s mind she isn’t attacking a child, but a veteran warrior who for some reason took the form of a small human, so she goes all-out.

Steven has been called “Rose” plenty of times by Jasper, and this will continue in our very next episodes, but it’s gotta sting harder when the person doing it just told him that Steven was enough. And the fight itself is no joke, which is a relief after the brawl in Steven vs. Amethyst was all joke. The hits land just as hard, and we get the same awesome choreography showcasing Steven’s floaty powers and spiky bubble in action, but Bismuth isn’t kidding and Steven is on the ropes. His sandal melting away is as graphic as we’re gonna get, but it’s still a great sign of what will happen to him if he falls. His shoelessness also allows for a neat reversal of Bismuth closing her fist to begin the fight: after limping on the other foot to avoid the heat, the first we see of him after the second bubble of the episode pops is a close-up of his bare foot steaming on the ground. He’s forced to hurt both himself and Bismuth to end the fight.

We’re on the cusp of learning the “truth” about Pink Diamond, but the beginning of Rose’s souring portrayal is right here. If you squint hard enough, Rose’s actions in the past could have been justified by her not wanting to shatter anybody, and by Bismuth being an extremist who left her with no choice. But as she stands impaled by the sword she once forged, Bismuth’s rage can no longer hide her grief. Even if Rose was right, and that’s hardly a sure thing, it’s twisted and terrible that she never told the other Crystal Gems the truth. It doesn’t matter that we eventually learn that this was a lot more complicated than it seemed because Rose was Pink Diamond, because in the moment, the person who just tried to kill Steven is saying that Steven’s mother did an awful thing, and despite everything the show has told us until this moment, she’s making a good point. Steven has no time to dwell on it before the other shoe drops (hopefully not into more lava), but it’s telling that Bismuth only acknowledges Steven as himself again when he says he’ll be honest.

When Bismuth gave Steven his pep talk in the living room, the audience didn’t know her full story, but she did, so she still loved Rose despite everything. She was hurt by her, and was willing to fight her, but she looked up to her leader despite it all. So it’s a real turn when she uses same language that encouraged Steven moments ago to make a new point: he could be better than her because of his potential to be spectacular, but also because she set the bar low by doing horrible things. Bismuth is all about that wordplay.

I’ve got a lot to say about my problems with Bismuth’s story after Bismuth (or rather the lack of one) that I’m including in my giant-sized features section below, because a giant-sized episode merits giant-sized features. But within the episode itself, I think silence after the fight is the right choice. Steven has been in danger before, but this is the hardest a person has ever tried to kill him, and it was one of his friends. A new friend, but a friend.

Bismuth marks the beginning of the end of this era of the show, an era when Steven’s series-long arc to fulfill his mother’s legacy was relatively straightforward. In yet another example of Bismuth’s wordplay, his life story swivels around a Breaking Point. The core of Steven Universe may not change in the way it does in Bubble Buddies and Mirror Gem and Catch and Release, but the core of Steven Universe is forever affected. His imminent guilt complex begins with stabbing Bismuth, and despite the hardships to come, he becomes a better person for surviving it.

But at least he doesn’t shatter her. That would really do a number on the guy. Can’t imagine how guilty he’d be if he one day did shatter an imposing zealot from the Gem War days with a history of confusing him for Rose Quartz...

Future Vision!

This is normally a section that lists small bits Fragments of foreshadowing, but because Bismuth is a double episode with tremendous impact on the shape of things to come in ways I already talked about in the review proper, I want to use this space to talk about the elegance of Steven Universe’s structure. I’ve referred to the fifty-odd episode chunks that make up the story on numerous occasions, but I think it’s about time I buck up and call them Acts. 

Act I of Steven Universe is the first season, Act II is the second and third season, and Act III is the fourth and fifth season (with the movie and Steven Universe Future as epilogues), and I think viewing the series through this lens really makes the structure shine. There are many examples of repeating themes and moments that this interpretation makes clear, and as an example, I want to talk about how a recurring phrase signifies a turning point towards the endgame of each act. 

In Act I, the slow-burning mystery of where the Gems came from begins at the midpoint, Mirror Gem, and escalates in Warp Tour with the introduction of Peridot. But we’re still doing regular episodes throughout, because Steven’s life is bigger than his past and there’s no pressing need to address his alien heritage when it isn’t directly affecting his life. It’s not until Marble Madness when this story ramps up, with Peridot's discovery of our heroes hurtling us towards a finale that sees Steven come into his own to defend his friends against old foes from beyond the stars who thought them long dead. The turning point is marked by Pearl taking a stand to proudly declare:

“We are the Crystal Gems! We're still alive, and we're still the guardians of this planet and all its living creatures!”

Jumping to Act III, the slow-burning mystery of what Rose did to Pink Diamond is actually solved with some time to spare. Things seem to be wrapping up at Garnet’s wedding in Reunited, especially because we’ve reached the same episode count of the other two acts. But then Blue and Yellow Diamond crash the party, bringing together the entire main cast in opposition. As in Act I, this shifts us onto the path towards the finale, this time one that sees Steven bringing the Diamonds together to heal the damage they did on Earth. This turning point was a bit less subtle:

“This is our home! Our planet! Our friends and family! We are the Crystal Gems!”

Act II is more stable than I or III, chronicling the period after Steven becomes a competent Crystal Gem but before everything is turned upside-down. He has adventures befitting his role and helps his friends and family as he grows more comfortable with his mother’s legacy, but unbeknownst to him, it’s the calm before the storm. Through it all, that legacy and that group are the bedrock of Steven’s life, and Bismuth begins to unravel his sense of security, leading to a finale that destroys our hero’s comfort zone. The turning point comes as Bismuth shatters not an elite Gem, but the fake image of one, and roars a battle cry that shows that there are some missing pages in the story of Steven’s happy family:

“Listen up, you Homeworld upper crusts...”

“We are the Crystal Gems!”

If every pork chop were perfect, we wouldn’t have inconsistencies…

Likewise, this is normally a section that lists plot elements that don’t add up, and I can’t imagine reviewing Bismuth with addressing Bismuth’s treatment as the show continues. There aren’t many other places to write about it until Made of Honor, as the most notable element of this discussion is her absence, but it’s a flaw beyond this episode itself, so it’s going here.

First, I understand from a storytelling perspective why Bismuth is bubbled again. She’s a major new element that couldn’t realistically be sent to the barn like Peridot and Lapis, and is so at odds with our heroes that it would mess with the direction of the series. In particular, the reveal that Rose shattered Pink Diamond would go from being a story about Steven coping to a story about Steven and Bismuth coping, because Rose shattering someone goes against the whole reason she fought Bismuth in the first place. The simplest solution to not having Bismuth dominate the upcoming story is putting her away until the plot demands. And we do eventually get some lip service to why she was bubbled again for so long: she did, after all, try to shatter Steven with the Breaking Point at the end of their fight. She seems cool with it, and it’s not as if she was suffering in there, popping back out as if no time had passed and integrating well with the team afterwards.

But it is baffling that there isn’t any conversation about trying to talk with her instead of keeping her locked away. We don’t need a proper trial, but the idea that this team wouldn’t allow Bismuth to make her case and wouldn’t try to help her work towards a mutual understanding is not only cruel, but cruel in a way that makes no sense for these characters. I’ve called the underuse of Malachite the show’s greatest blunder, and I stand by it because Bismuth’s treatment is much more than a “whoops.” Communication is everything to this series, and the idea that Bismuth was too dangerous to be reasoned with is, to me, Steven Universe’s greatest sin. 

Garnet and Pearl in particular never mention any alternatives, or even bring her up to a meaningful degree. This is supposed to be one of their best friends. And after we learn about Pink Diamond’s shattering, it’s bewildering that Steven doesn’t consider the Bismuth of it all outside of her factoring into his guilt complex in Mindful Education and a brief mention in Storm in the Room. On both an emotional and logical level there’s no reason to not include her more in Act III. Like, let’s say in the worst case scenario she’s freed and furiously attacks Steven: he already defended himself by himself against her, in a lava-filled arena where she had a huge advantage, so obviously with the other Gems he’d be safe. And let’s say Steven is traumatized by nearly getting killed. Understandable. Even if Pearl also nearly got him killed a few times, it was never with murderous intent. Except that if that’s the rationale, I feel like Bismuth deserves to have that explained by him at some point during her imprisonment. He could tell the Gems, he could confide in Connie, whatever, this is something that needs to be said out loud. If we’re going to have her locked away indefinitely, there needs to be more than stone cold silence about why the Crystal Gems came to such an extreme solution, seemingly without a second thought. There was more discussion about the ethics of bubbling Peridot than Bismuth, and Peridot was a full-blown opponent at the time. There was more discussion about the ethics of rehabilitating the Centipeetle, a being corrupted into what seemed to be an unthinking monster, than a fully sentient ally who did a bad thing.

I’m not gonna knock this episode down any pegs for this in my rankings, because it’s not really the fault of this episode. Yes, it could have included Steven’s conversation with the other Gems, but this story was already full to the gills and there was plenty of time in future episodes, particularly episodes after the shattering story comes to light, to address it. Bismuth works fine on its own, but demanded further stories that it never got. Made of Honor does a decent job of bringing Bismuth back, but that’s after over fifty episodes of a misguided but heroic and loyal friend being imprisoned without any attempt at mediation.

I get that it would’ve been a lot of work, and that the bubble method was more convenient. But making a character this great only to treat her this way is a disservice to both Bismuth and the Crystal Gems as a whole.

(Also, less importantly, this episode was marketed as 100 thanks to the inclusion of a few combined shorts as numbered episodes. But yeah this was totally episodes 98 and 99.)

We’re the one, we’re the ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR!

I ended on a bummer note there, but like I said, Bismuth by itself shouldn’t be held culpable for not having a Too Short to Ride or Alone at Sea for Bismuth down the line. It still doesn’t make my top fifteen, but it does make my top twenty, which matters because the list is expanding next time to account for our actual hundredth episode.

Top Fifteen

Steven and the Stevens

Hit the Diamond

Mirror Gem

Lion 3: Straight to Video

Alone Together

The Return

Jailbreak

The Answer

Sworn to the Sword

Rose’s Scabbard

Mr. Greg

Coach Steven

Giant Woman

Beach City Drift

Winter Forecast

Love ‘em

Laser Light Cannon

Bubble Buddies

Tiger Millionaire

Lion 2: The Movie

Rose’s Room

An Indirect Kiss

Ocean Gem

Space Race

Garnet’s Universe

Warp Tour

The Test

Future Vision

On the Run

Maximum Capacity

Marble Madness

Political Power

Full Disclosure

Joy Ride

Keeping It Together

We Need to Talk

Chille Tid

Cry for Help

Keystone Motel

Catch and Release

When It Rains

Back to the Barn

Steven’s Birthday

It Could’ve Been Great

Message Received

Log Date 7 15 2

Same Old World

The New Lars

Monster Reunion

Alone at Sea

Crack the Whip

Bismuth

Like ‘em

Gem Glow

Frybo

Arcade Mania

So Many Birthdays

Lars and the Cool Kids

Onion Trade

Steven the Sword Fighter

Beach Party

Monster Buddies

Keep Beach City Weird

Watermelon Steven

The Message

Open Book

Story for Steven

Shirt Club

Love Letters

Reformed

Rising Tides, Crashing Tides

Onion Friend

Historical Friction

Friend Ship

Nightmare Hospital

Too Far

Barn Mates

Steven Floats

Drop Beat Dad

Too Short to Ride

Restaurant Wars

Kiki’s Pizza Delivery Service

Greg the Babysitter

Gem Hunt

Steven vs. Amethyst

Enh

Cheeseburger Backpack

Together Breakfast

Cat Fingers

Serious Steven

Steven’s Lion

Joking Victim

Secret Team

Say Uncle

Super Watermelon Island

Gem Drill

No Thanks!

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