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Main masterpost

i hate you. i hate you? ☆ cs55

genre: humor, fluff, love confessions, childhood friends to enemies/rivals to lovers (damn, tongue twister), maybe a bit angsty (don't worry too much about it though, lol), flashbacks that add to a tiny slow-burn

word count: 3.5k

The dwindling friendship that comes crashing down when you get offered the opportunity of a lifetime. Leading to a bumpy road with your best friend.

req!... i swear that when i put angst ITS NOT BAD. anyways, enjoy, anons!

Me encantaría formar parte del equipo, you muse whimsically, pigtails flying against the winter breeze. Sería un sueño hecho realidad. 

Despite being young, you knew you were different— came from a divergent background compared to those around you. Your family definitely didn’t have the resources to fulfill your dream to kart or race professionally. You partially blame your brothers for getting you into the sport. 

Si. Lo sería, a particular Spaniard, agrees. You smile. Your parents share a pitiful glance before sitting you down. It wasn’t going to happen, not because they didn’t want to but simply because they couldn’t afford such an expensive hobby that would probably kick you in the butt. 

That’s where your first guardian angel appeared. Carlos Sainz Sr. Better known as your best friend's father. Without a doubt, he offers to sponsor you, for he grew keen on having you around, enjoying time by the pool with his two girls and shy son. 

Was there a way you could ever thank him? No, not really— nothing would ever cover all he’s ever done for you, but you’d make sure to try your best to find a way. Even if it took you a lifetime. 

-

“You’ve known her for a lifetime! Probably five, for all we know!” Lando yelps, running a hand through his curls. “You can’t just call it quits on your friendship just like…” He snaps his fingers. 

Carlos shrugs. He fills up a styrofoam cup of coffee, silently offering one to his moody friend. The Brit rolls his colorful eyes. You’re making a mistake, he presses. It’s the Spaniards turn to grow serious. 

“Por favor—she should have thought about that before she stole my seat.”

That, you did. It wasn’t an easy decision to make. It could have never been, even if you had been warned. But suddenly you were getting an opportunity, the kind you only ever dreamt of. Carlos would be fine, he was a man who would eventually have a pile of teams interested in keeping him around. You, on the other hand, were surprised that anyone was even intrigued in having you form a part of their F1 team, much less— Ferrari. 

This was it, and you had to grab at the opportunity. You just never imagined losing a friend along the way.

Why would you even consider accepting? You flinch and he’s looking as if he regrets it, so you give him the benefit of the doubt. 

I know this isn’t what we were expecting, but think of it this way. I'd be coming in 2025 and you would already be too busy preparing to join Audi! It’ll work out. You’re still doing that, right? You knew he was, he had been so excited and told you as soon as he found out. Audi was in his blood.

He runs a large hand through his tangled hair, sighing. Still. You have to say no. You can’t do that to me. It’d be embarrassing.

Your shoulders drop an inch. Why? Because you’re being bought out or because a woman is keeping your seat? His silence is enough for your heart to break and for your mind to be made up.

I’m signing. 

-

There is indignation, and then there is you.

“You are such a—argh!” Pounding your fists against the locked door, you reach out to briskly twist the knob, trying your best to get out of the cramped room. The world was spinning, and you could feel a migraine rolling in strongly, but you swore—swore—you would kill him as soon as you got your hands on him. 

The morning had started off fairly simple. Show up, run a few tests on the stimulator, get to know a few of the mechanics you’d be working with, and finally, sign your contract. You had waited longer than intended, due to minor changes you had suggested, so you were extremely ready to get it done. This was supposed to be your day.

That is until the grumpy Spaniard pushed you, locked you in, and ran off before you had a chance to register what was going on. Fred had been adamant—show up on time. The next time he would be available would not be until three weeks, and that was ridiculously long if anyone were to ask. Carlos knew that.

Charles hums slowly, munching on a pack of M&M's when he hears the spine-chilling scream you let out, wood vibrating as you punch angrily. Hurrying over, he unlocks it from the outside, surprised by your appearance. Your hair is tussled, face is blotchy, vein throbbing. It’s definitely a sight to say the least. He mentions something about —he went that way— and —think about what you’re going to do— but you’re off before you settle with any of it.

The twists and turns make your head hurt, practically seeing red before you come to a halt. Smiling sophisticatedly, Carlos is sat, legs crossed, fingers pointing to his watch. No. “News for you, my dear friend; Fred just left.” The Spaniard winces playfully, already making his way out the door. “Guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”

Charles was right. You should have thought about what you would do. Jumping onto his large back, your flimsy hands dig into the forest he calls hair, and pull. He screeches, swaying from side to side as he hurriedly tries to disconnect your legs from around his waist. Let go, he groans harder when you pinch his arm. 

“Why? Why did you do this—any of this?” At this point you’re kicking and screaming, panting, heaving. “Is it really that difficult to accept it? You lost. I’m in, you’re out.”

“At least we know she’s a fighter.”

Coming to a sudden stop, your eyes flicker to the familiar voice, instantly burning up. Fred taps his foot gingerly against the white tiles, an amused Monegasque standing right behind him. Jumping off of the sulky brunette, you begin to shake your head in disbelief, pointing towards the exit. “N-no…you’re supposed to be gone. He…” Then it hits you. This was a fucking set up.

“While I’m evenly impressed by your toughness, I will say, I think we should put a hold on signing.” Your stomach drops. The older man quickly waves his hands in dismissal, grinning apologetically. “We still want you! Nothing has changed, but I think it’s for the best that you fix things with Carlos before doing so. It’ll be good for you two.” With that, he bows his head, and strolls away, heading for the airport.

“I’m out too,” Charles whispered, slowly stepping back. “Fill me in on what happens, though!” 

As soon as your breath evens out—and Carlos creates a safe distance between you two—you let out a deranged chuckle. He almost cringes at the cold sound, but keeps his chin up high. “You did this all on purpose?” It’s a question but comes out more like a confirmation, which in a way, it was. Shutting your eyes, you tilt your head with a ghostly smile. “You knew he hadn’t left and let me make a fool out of myself. Why would you do that?” you grit, orbs laser focused on him as if you could light him up into flames if you really set your mind to it.  

“Why would I not?” he stubbornly spits back.

“You asshole, I’m just trying to make your dad proud.”

A pinch of guilt dives deep into his veins as he watches you stomp down the hallway, mindlessly tugging at his heart.

-

I say we let him burn, Ana pitches the idea, laying flat on her bed as you scoff with a knowing smile. 

Does it make me a bad person if I don’t disagree with you? 

She sits up, eyeing where you calmly paint down on a canvas. She squints her eyes. “What even is that?” Holding your art with pride, you shoot a sheepish smile. Nice, huh? The Spaniard’s youngest sister giggles, nose scrunching up at the dark sight. “I’m confused—is he supposed to look like that?”

You curl an analytical brow, shooting a quick snarl. “I think it’s pretty good. And yes. He’s supposed to be getting run over by my future car. What a sight.” You dramatically swoon.

Ana drops her stare, focusing instead with a teasing curl gripping the corner of her lips. “Remember when instead of plotting his death, you’d be fantasizing about a life with him? God, I could still remember all the hearts—the glitter.” She shudders, faintly recalling the mess in her room, which led to Reyes giving you both a good scolding, but not before winking at a red-faced you. 

Looking away feverishly, you shake your head, picking up the flimsy paint brush once again, never once bothering to make eye contact with her. “I was young. Stupid as shit. I can’t even remember what I loved about him.”

“Liked,” she corrects you.

You cough. “Right. Liked.”

-

If the Spaniard took the time to sit down, roll through a philosophical journey, wonder where things might have changed for him—it would have saved him enduring a puddle of dreadfulness at this very moment.

Ana’s wedding. The first of his sisters who would get married. It was a bittersweet day, and not just because she was finally leaving the family nest. “Who is she…” he can hear himself ask. Almost demand. The brunette smirks, slightly pleased. 

“My best friend. You’re nemesis,” she jokes. 

Carlos growls slowly, lightly pinching her cheek as she yelps. “With. You know what I mean.”

“Lalo. She met him a few weeks ago. Very nice guy.” A beat. “Please don’t ruin my wedding.”

But he’s not even listening. Brown eyes follow to where you stand straight, arms crossed over your body like a shield. He always knew you’d been self-conscious, but never understood why. You were stunning. Lavender dress hugs your curves beautifully. A trace of honey fills any area you fall into. Your hair is nicely pinned up, allowing him to enjoy your silky skin. 

And it seems like Lalo too.

Rubbing a large hand against his smooth jaw—which was only neat since Reyes had hounded him to fix his appearance for his sister’s big day—he smoothly made his way over. Rupert warns the Spanirad with his eyes, but Carlos scoffs. Did everyone think he had something up his sleeve? 

“Enjoying yourselves?”

Mid-sip, your face freezes, doe-eyes flickering between Lalo, then Carlos. Then Carlos, then Lalo. God, when did the room begin to boil? Your voice gets caught in your throat, to make matters worse. Carlos’ personal trainer pity’s you for a split second, deciding to help out. “The drinks are stellar, mate. We’ve been hogging the bar for so long at this point.”

The brown eyed boy studies your so-called date, faking a cold smile. “You don’t say…Carlos, by the way,” he says, extending his arm out. “Remind me of your name again, sorry, she’s just never mentioned you before. At all, really. I apologize.”

“That’s okay, we only just met a few weeks ago. We’re taking it slow.” We’re. The word itself makes the 29 year old fear he might puke right then and there. “Eduardo, but you can call me Lalo. Huge fan.”

“Mines or hers?” Carlos bitterly questions, thick lips forming a straight line. Lalo awkwardly clicks his tongue to the roof of his mouth, pulling away and leaning in to hold you close. 

“Guess it’s my turn to apologize now. Hers. Always. But you’re pretty cool, too, I suppose.” His voice is light, unbothered. It makes Carlos tick furiously, though he doesn’t dare show it. You can’t pinpoint the moment tension rose up, snapping you out of your trance. Blinking hastily, you aim a sour snarl at the Spaniard. 

“We were sort of having a good time, so…” You shoo him away with a jeweled hand. “I just don’t want to kill the vibes. You understand, right?” Barely giving him a chance to respond, you turn back to your conversation, leaving Lalo and Rupert to appear puzzled, but stupidly playing along.

With a raw click of the tongue, the 29 year old takes a step forward, leveling down to your ear. “Pretend all you want, but you’re still wearing my initials around that pretty wrist of yours.” And walks away.

It was true. Your parents had gifted you a lucky charm bracelet for your fourteenth birthday, and Carlos greedily beat everyone to it. A car, for your love for Formula One. A chili, a shy thank you for his nickname. An ice cream, well, because you just loved ice cream. And a cursive CS. For him. 

Watching him walk away left you with a hole in your heart. You did not need a reminder like that on a day like this. Wearing it was purely out of habit, it had no meaning to it anymore. At least that’s what you kept telling yourself. The need to use the restroom was a complete lie as you wordlessly peek for the broad Spaniard. You spot his glossy shoes first, sticking out the photo booth. 

“Scoot,” you say, gently cramming him in deeper. Once you get situated, you slide the silver charm off, handing it over to him. “Here.”

He furrows his dark brows. “What are you doing?”

“I don’t want anything tying me back to you anymore. It was kind—sweet—but that was past you. You’re cruel, mean, rude, a fucking jerk now. I don’t like that, so— here.”

“I don’t want it,” he retorts, curling your flat hand into a fist, forcing you to hold it tight. 

“Well I don’t either, so what is there to do? You know what; I’ll just sell it. It’s not even that significant,” you mumble, already making your way out, but not before he hauls you back. Falling straight onto his thigh. You can feel your pulse quicken, your cheeks tingle, and your eyes suddenly burn. “Let me go,” you squeal, trying your best to weasel out of his grip. He groans, placing a large hand on either side of your hips, pushing you down.

“No. Just listen to me first.” Sighing, you nod. You should be climbing off; there’s room for two. He should be pushing you off; there’s room for two. But none of that happens as he clears his throat, rehearsing his words over and over before you raise a neat brow, waiting for him. “Perdón. Por todo.” 

Not what you were expecting and he could tell when you let out a small gasp. Nervously, he licks his lips, admiring your plump ones that don’t lay too far off from his own. “I used to be so proud of you when we were just kids. When you first admitted you wanted to race too. It was adorable, the way your eyes lit up.” Your breath deepens, unknowing of what this was leading to. “But I’ve always been proud. That’s never changed.”

“You’re a terrific liar,” you timidly chuckle, patting his shoulder, making him back off a little. But he only ricochets forward, twice as close. Your insides churn. 

“You don’t know how fucking happy I was when you got a seat. Over the moon. But I won’t lie; I was hurt and said some shitty things that have no excuse tied to them. I know I hurt you—I know that now. But that feeling vanished when worry came creeping in. I don’t want you to sign that contract.”

You flinch, reality crashing down on you once again as you examine the Ferrari driver. “Why apologize if you haven’t changed? My feelings aren’t a joke,” you whimper pathetically, tears sliding down your cheeks, soft brows drawn together. 

He panics, gingerly brushing them away to the best of his ability and you don’t have the power to fight him off anymore. You’re too busy getting your heart broken once again by the same man. 

She’s beautiful. Insanely—it’s insane. Her eyes are a shade of green I’d never thought I’d like.

I once wore a shade of green shorts last summer and you called them ugly. Said it looked like vomit. 

Carlos sighs dreamily, dominantly shaking his head. 

Well crap. I must’ve changed my mind.

Present him, was taking in your frantic sobs and he doesn’t know how else to calm you if it's not by rubbing your back gently. It takes a while, but you eventually ease up, occasionally letting out a shaky breath. “First of all, let me tell you why I did everything within me for you not to sign. It’s no good.”

You tilt your head in confusion, nose runny as he hands you his handkerchief. “I-I’m confused.”

Carlos chuckles. “What was the one thing I would always complain to you about when I was away racing?” Lack of privacy? “Okay, second thing I raved about…” When you don’t answer, he sheepishly wiggles his brows. “How tired I was with my team. It’s exhausting because like it or not—we’re not at our prime. I don’t think we will be for a couple of years. But for my benefit, I’ll be gone, and then it’s only going to fall on-”

“Me,” you finish, glossy eyes dancing through his painful expression.

 He nods. “Listen, Charles will be fine. Mentally not, but he’ll do just okay. It’s you I’m worried about. Not only will you dive in, nose first into a world of ruthless men, but you’ll always be the entire blame. In their eyes, it'll be you. What did you do wrong? How could you fuck up? And sure, you might sometimes—it's inevitable— but other times you won’t. But you’re a girl, and that’s enough for the fingers to be pointed at you.”

Shaking your head profusely, you instantly reach up to catch your hair from falling from its tiring up-do. He helps you out, combing his fingers nicely, though this time it doesn’t get rid of the queasy feeling. He was right. God, why did he have to be right? 

“I’m well aware of what I’m about to get myself into. But I think I can handle it. I can’t not do it—imagine how many girls it would help pave the way for? I’m sure as fuck it won’t be easy, and it might threaten my sanity, but I need to do this. And I’m sorry.”

An unfamiliar wave crashes against his warm eyes, a low breath being expanded into the air. You can feel it, taste it. Mint mojito. Your body told you, you liked it, with the way you wanted to lean in and kiss him—just to confirm. Pursing your lips, you continue. “You have your future decided and I have mine.”

With a hesitant bow, and a tide of curls flying forward, he clears his throat. “You’ve always been this way. Dedicated. And I could never decipher why. Until now.” He can’t help but brush his nose against yours. Your eyes flutter shut, allowing him to appreciate your pretty features. “If you’re sure, then I’m right behind you.”

You almost want to laugh, but are too scared to ruin the moment, so instead count his freckles. “I am…” A sharp inhale. “But what’s the second thing?”

“What do you mean?”

“You said ‘first of all’. I would assume there’s more…” You know there is, but you just want to hear him say it aloud. You’d seen the way he glared viciously at Lalo, chest firming. You’d seen the way things had shifted between you two, months prior, after his break up.

If this racing thing doesn’t work out, you would make a killer artist. He whistles.

Down boy, you joke. It’s just a swan. I resonate with them. 

He sits up straighter. Then consider me a swan, too.

You laugh loudly, tossing your head back as he smiles. Why all of a sudden?

Just.

“It took me a while to get here, but I’m here.” He cradles your delicate face. “I think I love you. I-I mean I know I love you. Your stubbornness, your compliance. Your level-headedness, your intrusive actions. Your need to persevere and be better—even if others make it hard on you.” You giggle, poking his chest. “But above all, I love the way you made me work for it. I’m glad you did because how else could I have realized if you didn’t drag that dead-beat?”

“Hey! He’s nice!”

The 29 year old tsks. “Nice isn’t enough and you know it.” His pink lips graze over yours as you lean in too. “You’ve always been a smart girl…” He’s about to kiss you when you slide back, leaving him hanging. He clenches his jaw, seeming teased. 

“I love swans because I know I can love as deep as one.” 

“I can too.”

“And I know, you know, that I love you too.”

“I do know that.”

“And I lit you up on fire, but only on paper!”

His brows furrow. “Yeah, we can circle back to that. But I don’t care. I love all that about you. And I want you to know my father has always been proud of you.” He winks. “But never as much as me.”

“We’re doing this then?” you ask nervously. “Y-you’re still going to have to grovel. I don’t give up that easily. Especially after all you’ve put me through.”

Carlos gently nods, eyes adoring you. “I’ve waited more than a decade for this moment. What’s one more?”

And he kisses you.

taglist: @urfavnoirette @lpab @d3kstar @namgification @myownwritings

*feel free to let me know if you would like to be included in the general taglist!!

Pacer's Flaming Heart

After another identity crisis, Pacer finds himself wandering the lands of Texas until he's bordering Kiowa territory. He finds a young woman foraging for food. Despite knowing better, he's still a young man seeing a visually beautiful woman. So naturally he slowly approaches her.

"Hi. I'm Pacer."

She gets spooked by his presence.

"Hey, relax. I ain't gonna hurt ya."

It takes her awhile to recover as she takes in Pacer's appearance.

"You are dark for a settler."

"Yeah I'm half Kiowa."

She looks surprised by this. It's not like mixed raced relationships were a common thing. Or even a rare occurrence. It's just so unheard of in this part of the world.

"What are your parents names?"

"My mother's name is Neddy."

Her eyes widen with recognition.

"Then you know Ph'sha Knay."

"Yes, I know Ph'sha."

"She is friend of my mother."

Pacer smiles thinking he has a way to make a connection with her.

"What's your name?"

"Dome-be-ah-ty."

"That's a pretty name."

She giggles and Pacer can see her cheeks reddening.

"Thank you. What brings you out of your settler village?"

"I took my horse out for a ride."

"But you are so close to Kiowa territory?"

"I know, and your tribe don't like us."

There's a growing tension as she thinks Pacer is ignorant as to why that would be.

"We don't like settlers because they force us off land meant for us."

"I see what you mean, but you're not gonna kill me or nothin', are you?"

She pauses. The once tense energy in the air starts to dissipate. She takes in Pacer's face and gives a slight smile.

"I like your face. I won't kill you."

Pacer can't help but blush. Despite the cultural differences damaging family relations, he still feels attracted to her.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"What do you want to know Man-with-cute-face?"

"You really think I'm cute?"

"Yes. You have good features."

Pacer starts to have this warm feeling in his chest. As sad as it is, this is the first time he feels like there's a mutual feeling of attraction.

"No one ever says nice things like that to me."

"And why is that?"

"Well, I'm part Kiowa, ain't I?"

"Yes, but you were born to a white man."

"I know, but some people think it's wrong for a white man to have relations with a native woman."

Pacer sits down against the tree. The warm feeling starts to grow cold as he goes back to his identity crisis.

"Have you ever felt that you could be part of a crowd and still feel so alone? Can you understand how someone who is half Kiowa could feel ostracized?"

"No. I was born and raised in Kiowa village. Even with my English I could never understand why settlers act the way they do."

"It's hard for me because I'm half and half. The Kiowa don't accept me because my mother walked away from their world, and neither do the whites because my mother is still one of THEM."

She sits down beside Pacer and takes his hand. Pacer blushes some more but doesn't move his hand away.

"What of your family?"

"They love me, and I love them, but..."

"They are not half and half like you."

"No. If things were different, if I was full Kiowa, I wouldn't have any problems, or if I was white, but I'm not."

He feels Dome-be-ah-ty squeeze his hand. Since Pacer feels like he has nothing to lose he decides to take a chance with her.

"Do you think you could accept me as I am?"

She boops Pacer on the nose.

"I think I can Sad-eyes-man."

That seems to cheer Pacer up as the cold feeling of doubt is gone.

"Can we sit here for a while?"

Dome-be-ah-ty looks at the sun and shakes her head.

"No. I must go. Sun is setting too low."

"Oh. Can I talk to you again?"

“Meet me back here in 2 moons.”

Pacer nods but then gets an idea.

“Kiss me goodbye.”

“I can do that Flaming Heart.”

Pacer pulls her close and leans in to kiss her, her lips feeling soft. She pulls away with a smirk.

“I think something else is starting to warm up isn’t it?”

He looks down and looks completely red faced. He kisses her hand.

“I’ll see you in 2 moons.”

“Yes. Farewell Pacer.”

Pacer smiles and takes one last glance at her before she goes. He sits against a tree and stares at the sunset.

Tagging: @burnthheparaphilia thank you so much for the request! Please let me know if you would like a part 2. @xanatenshi, @arrolyn1114, @atleastpleasetelephone, @eapep, and @vintagepresley.

Peter Tork, onstage circa May 1969.

A fan named Dee Dee (from Decatur, Illinois) wrote to Peter via Fave Magazine, circa 1969. In her letter, she explained, “[Y]ou seem to be such a ‘free’ person. I mean that you do your own thing, from growing a beard to leaving the Monkees to leading the type of life that makes you happy without worrying what everybody thinks. It’s always been different with me. I was fairly popular with my friends because I was a follower, not a leader. I was content, more or less, to tag along and do what the ‘in’ crowd did just so I would belong. But since I turned 16, a few months ago, I have been more and more unhappy with myself. I really didn’t want to look like everybody else, so I cut off my long hair. I think it’s cute, but my friends don’t like it. I also changed the way I dressed. […] Nobody wants to talk to anymore at school, and I haven’t been invited to the last three big parties the crowd gave. I really feels just awful about it! Do you think I should change back and stop trying to be myself? I’m so lonely and hurt I could die, but somehow I think trying to be like everybody else isn’t right either! Please help me, Peter, I know you can!” Here’s Peter’s reply:

“Dear Dee Dee, I feel a very big responsibility in giving you an answer and I’ve turned it over and over in my mind. Many things you say in your letter bring back memories of my high school days! I felt much the same way you do. You aren’t alone in your idea that there has to be something else besides trying to be a carbon copy of everybody else around you. But as you now realize, during your teens you are bucking the system when you try for individuality. I don’t mean this to sound hard on your friends — or rather the people you thought were your friends. Let me try to explain how I feel about it to you, and maybe it’ll help. The whole idea of peace and love as I see it is to let everybody do their thing, as long as it’s not harmful to anyone else. There’s nothing that says you have to agree with someone’s opinion on dress, hair, politics, or the way the country is being run. If you prefer to listen to classical music instead of rock, then by all means do! Everyone feels differently about certain things. That’s what makes us all individuals, and life would certainly be dull if people agreed on everything. But to go back to what I said about ‘bucking the system,’ it is a lot harder to be entirely your own self when you are just developing your own ideas. When you are in high school, your social life becomes very important to you. How many parties you get invited to, how many phone calls and dates you have, the number of people you can call your friends are the things which make you feel like a worthwhile person, or a dropout from the human race. You’ll have to accept the fact that any deviation from the current fads of dress or conversation will place you in the category of being just a little different. It’s not a bad thing to be — but it’s not easy either! Your friends will not accept this from you readily, because they remember you as you were. Also, in doing our own thing you are giving them some doubts about themselves. You see, everyone knows deep down that there are some things they don’t like about running with the crowd! But how easy it is to just sit back and accept, instead of branching out on their own! As the years go by and people mature, most of them do find that they are entirely different than they were in high school. They look back, as I do, and say, ‘How could I have gone along with that!’ It takes years and experience for people to find just exactly what they want and who they are. Unfortunately, too many never do! That’s why you should consider yourself lucky. You aren’t really an outcast, you know. The most important person you have to please is you! And obviously you are trying to find the right road that brings out the self you are most comfortable with. You have to realize, Dee Dee, that you are maturing more rapidly than some of the others in your age group. It is a very important thing that is happening inside of you. You’re questioning the ‘taken for granted’ things and beginning to think for yourself. All this takes a great deal of courage and faith. You’ll find yourself asking a hundred times a day, ‘Do I really want this? Do I believe in this?…’ and little by little you will be happier within yourself. If you keep an open mind about things, and this means not putting down the people you think have square ideas, you will find attitudes changing toward you. Remember that everybody, even those you know are wrong, do have just as much right to the ideas and way of life as you have! You can be absolutely certain that the way you feel is right — FOR YOU! What is right for someone else is their own decision. You can argue a point of disagreement with someone by offering your views in a calm, friendly way. Don’t fight about it! Don’t try to force your beliefs on others, because this only antagonizes them. Everybody has to come along at his or her own pace and trying to prod or push them only makes them angry with you! Think about what I’ve told you and try your very best to be open, cheerful and friendly with everyone. That includes people who have or will try to point you in one way or another. If someone puts you down, letting it roll off your back is not accepting it so much as recognizing the fact that it’s their hangup, not yours! There are going to be people who will become your friends. Some of them you’ll get to know, and others will find you. Your social life will pick up again, but this time you’ll be doing it on your own terms! This much I know is true, because it happened to me! The transition from being one of the crowd to being your own individual self is painful, but the way you feel about yourself is the most important thing that will ever happen to you! Peace and Love, Peter Tork”

The Little Mermaid: Premiere Screening

On May 8th, 2023, I attended the premiere screening of Disney’s The Little Mermaid: Live Action and I’m here to share some of my thoughts. Just to be clear, I’m not here to spare anyone’s feelings and I could care less about how you perceive what I am about to tell you. These are my thoughts and my opinions and if you don’t like what I have to say, then that’s on you.

First off, I’ve been seeing other reviews that have said that this film is perfect. I’m here to disagree. The film wasn’t perfect. It definitely had its flaws. More specifically, the bland color palette and some pacing issues. But overall, I would say the the film was indeed enjoyable.

I can’t say that I’m 100% sold on the animals, however, they do emote and have their own unique personalities which is much more than I can say about that sorry excuse of a remake that was The Lion King.

My least favorite performance in this film would have to be Javier Bardem who plays King Triton. In almost all of his scenes, he only has one facial expression (I don’t think I saw him not frown once) and it comes off as very one dimensional. However, I have to give him credit where it’s due, he plays the overbearing father figure very, very well. And there is a scene where he gets a bit choked up when talking about Ariel’s mother, however, that’s pretty much the only scene where his character conveys any kind of emotion, that and at the end when he’s saying good-bye to Ariel as she leaves with Prince Eric.

The acting in this film is pretty decent. Melissa McCarthy definitely surprised me. I wouldn’t be surprised if she starts to play more villainous roles after this film.

Halle Bailey doesn’t act in this film. In just about all of her scenes, more specifically the fun ones, her persona on screen comes off as very natural and you can tell she’s just being herself. However, in the more serious scenes, it’s pretty apparent that drama isn’t her forte and that she’s still very green. But even still, it is somewhat believable.

Jonah Hauer King and Halle Bailey do have chemistry. While the trailers haven’t done a good job at showing really anything, it is there.

The land scenes look pretty dull. I don’t get why Disney’s become so obsessed with making their live actions look so stale. The Peter Pan and Wendy film that released last month had this same problem. But the difference between that movie and this movie was that this movie actually managed to push out a pretty decent story. The heart of the original tale was there.

Awkwafina as Scuttle was surprisingly hilarious.

Giving Ariel’s sisters new identities and letting them represent the seven seas, I got to say, was a genius move.

Newcomer, Jessica Alexander, delivers a chilling performance of Ursula’s human counterpart, Vanessa and quite frankly looks like she stepped right out of the animated film. I only wish she got to stick around a little longer.

I remember seeing all these articles about song changes that would be in the film. If there were song changes, they had to have been very minor because I didn’t even notice them.

The underwater world could be its own movie, quite frankly. While at times, the CGI was quite off putting, the world building that went into this film was quite impressive and in my opinion, that puts it at a bit ahead of the 1989 film. A bit. Not a lot.

A lot of audience members were in tears listening to Halle Bailey sing the new Part of Your World Reprise. Halle executed this scene beautifully and though it nearly took the entire movie, it was at this point that I finally came around to accepting the race-swap of the character Ariel. Trust me, I didn’t want to like this movie. I didn’t. In fact, I went in with the full intention of hating it. But after seeing it in its full capacity, I can definitely say that I was surprised by what I saw. I had my doubts, but Disney pulled it off. However, that shouldn’t suggest that Disney needs to start race-swapping all of their already established characters now. Don’t get me wrong. Halle Bailey did deliver. She WAS Ariel. But if Disney wishes to keep their brand, they need to start creating new, fresh characters that people can relate to instead of being lazy and making the same stories over and over again.

All in all, the live action Little Mermaid was a decent film. As far as adaptations go, it’s definitely one of the better ones and I’d put this right there with the 2015 Cinderella movie, maybe even a little above because of the music score and the effects.

Halle Bailey and Melissa McCarthy saved this movie. Again, while I don’t necessarily support race swapping, I will say this. You can cast whoever you want as Ariel, but if she doesn’t that voice, then the whole movie is pointless. I applaud Rob Marshall for finding the Ariel that was in Halle Bailey. Her overall performance I would say was outstanding.

Based on how the film ended, there is a possibility that a sequel might get pitched.

Nonetheless, If this film hits a billion at the box office, we may be in for a big problem with Disney.

Across the Spiderverse and respectability politics

I wrote this a week and a bit ago, when i first watched across the spiderverse

One thing that really struck me when I was watching Across the Spiderverse yesterday was how much Gwen and Miles’ treatment by Miguel feels a lot like respectability politics.

Like, both Gwen and Miles are “weird” spiderpeople. Gwen is the only Gwen Stacy who doesn’t die, and Miles was stung by a spider from a different universe. They’re also spiderpeople who have done something “wrong”, ie, they participated in the plot of spiderverse 1, which Miguel is blaming for the multiverse falling apart.

There’s also the fact that Miles and Gwen both have very strong queer subtext to them. Gwen especially has extremely trans vibes: her colour palette (and that of her universe), the way she acts, and the fact that she’s a woman when the vast majority of people who are, kinda, “her”, are men. With Miles it’s more subtle, and it’s more just the way that coming out as spiderman is presented a lot like coming out as queer (his parents’ worry, the scrutiny over his presumed partner, and a lot of the dialogue). And then, one important aspect of this movie is that Gwen is white, while Miles is Black. 

So anyway, one of the movie’s themes is about belonging. Belonging to a group or a society, what that belonging costs you, and whether that’s worth it (or even possible). The inciting incident of the movie is that Gwen gets accepted into the spider-society, and right from the start it feels like a commentary on respectability politics. 

Gwen’s acceptance into the spider-society is conditional and begrudgingly bestowed. Unlike the tons of other spiderpeople, who seem to be given a membership simply for existing and being a spiderperson, Gwen has to prove her excellence to even get a chance at being a part of this society. We see other spiders have been around for less than a year and are allowed to know about all this, but Gwen’s supposed role in the chaos happening in the multiverse means she’s on thin ice right from the beginning. 

So Gwen has this conditional acceptance as a part of the society, and right from the start she’s told that if she doesn’t toe the line, she’ll get booted out. Not only that, but for her, getting booted out doesn’t just mean going home, it means going somewhere where her only friend died, she’s a wanted criminal, and her father rejected her. She’s constantly kept on this precipice and told that if she doesn’t behave perfectly, she’ll be thrown into the abyss. So she does. She tries so hard, to the point of abandoning and then betraying her friend just so that she gets to keep her sliver of a chance. 

And the worst thing is, it doesn’t even work. After all that, she still gets booted off, made homeless, because she isn’t “good enough”. Because Miles “causing trouble” gives Miguel the exact excuse he needs to go “your kind don’t belong here”. 

Speaking of Miles, where Gwen is caught in this catch-22 of trying to fit in with people who resent her existence, Miles never even gets the chance to try. He’s too different, he’s the “original divergence”, which means that the spider society will never let him belong. This feels a lot like a race allegory, because only a few of the spiderpeople are black (and the two I can think of actually help him escape). He’s not even told there’s a thing he’s being left out of, and the moment he learns, he’s constantly berated for not obeying rules he doesn’t even know exist. Once he learns about the spider society, there’s a token effort to try and make him belong (by letting a black man be killed), but the moment he questions the cost the spiderpeople turn violent. He’s told that he’s worthless, he doesn’t belong, and I have very little doubt that if Miguel had caught him he would have killed him. 

And that all feels a lot like respectability politics to me. If you’re marginal, but close enough to the mainstream, you might be accepted, but you’ll constantly be asked to betray yourself and your peers. Expulsion from the mainstream will be held over your head, and will happen  eventually anyway. 

Meanwhile, if you’re too marginal, and it’s acceptable to shit on you, you won’t even get that chance. You’ll just get fucked over at every turn, and berated for not fitting in, both by the people being violent towards you and your less marginal, more respectable peers. 

And that’s why solidarity is important. That’s why Hobie helps Miles break out, and immediately quits when he’s told to chase after him. If you’re not “right”, you’re an anomaly, or your canon event went wonky, or you’re queer, it’s only a matter of time before society will turn violent towards you. So you may as well look out for people who they’re being violent against already, and question the justifications that you give for that violence. 

How important actually is Russia to the Vampire Academy series and its themes??

Brief rant about certain things that alarm me and make me question whether the people making that new Vampire Academy television show actually understood multiple aspects and themes of the Vampire Academy book series. I’m not assuming the worst of that new Vampire Academy television show, and no hard opinions have been formed as I haven’t seen it yet as it’s not publicly released as of rn, but these are just some things that I reckon could be questioning indicators.

Most of this is probably gonna relate to Blood Promise tbh.

Dimitri Belikov is Russian and that is an important part of both his character and the books in general. Ok. Apparently, that new television show isn’t going to have their interpretation be Russian. Why is that an issue? It’s definitely not racism, Russian is not a race. It could be a studio lumping all of Russia and Russian citizens in with the horrific and terrible actions of the Russian government, and wanting to avoid Russia altogether because of that, which, while not great, isn’t as bad as actual racism. Ok. Why is Dimitri being Russian important, at least on a thematic level? Obviously I love certain things like Dimitri’s Russian nickname for Rose, which while I personally consider extremely important, I know why production studios might not.

However, Russia does become much more thematically important in Blood Promise, where Rose goes to a foreign country in persuit of Dimitri. Part of the reason why Russia specifically is thematically, and plot-wise, relevant, is because it’s a distant land both literally and metaphorically to Rose at that time. It’s a place that Rose knows very little about, and the little that she knows doesn’t paint it in a very good light, and she repeatedly mentions throughout the 1st 4 books how before she went to Russia, she didn’t understand why anybody would want to live there, and how it seems like a cold and uninviting place. When Rose gets there, and especially once she meets and spends some time with Dimitri’s family in a town with a particularly bad reputation, she sees and experiences how beautiful, warm, inviting, and full of life it is. She learns not just about Dimitri’s family, or a foreign country, but a different way of life that can actually be extremely beautiful and fulfilling, and even considers staying there. It gives her a new perspective on the world, and also the world of Dhampirs, Moroi, and Strigoi, and opens up her mind to new ways of life and her worldview significantly changes and becomes more open-minded, and less judgementful, and more accepting. A place that she previously thought of as cold, uninviting, and had a bad reputation becomes a potential second-home for her.

I don’t think that those themes are easily substituted if you replace Russia with just any other country. It HAS to be far away, it HAS to seem inaccessible, and it HAS to have a bad reputation from the perspective of an American teenage girl (while Sisi Stringer is Australian, as am I, Vampire Academy is told through a very U.S.A. lens, and that plays into its themes and is self-aware of that).

Places like Italy, or England, or Spain, wouldn’t be able to deliver on those themes even close to as well as Russia, as those countries are romanticised, or at least doesn’t have the same bad reputation that Russia has from an U.S.A. - Americanised lens. An argument could be made for certain other countries possibly being able to deliver on some of those themes, for example some predominantly Muslim countries in the Middle East, and then they can show their culture as beautiful instead of the little to no positive representation in mainstream western media, however I highly doubt that they’re going to do that. Being from the same country and simply a different part of that country almost completely undermines all of those themes and elements, as well.

Also, I personally feel that a large part of what kickstarts Sydney Sage and Rose Hathaway’s friendship is them both being in an extremely foreign country together. They have some base level of understanding of each other that comes from both being from the same country while in an extremely foreign country. Sydney tells Rose that she’s from Utah, and Rose has thoughts and feelings about that because she’s at least somewhat familiar with Utah, in a way that only somebody from the same country but a different part of it would be. Rose is grateful for Sydney being able to translate Russian, not just the spoken language but also being able to read the Russian alphabet, and Sydney can guess what sorts of foods Rose might gravitate towards. Rose and Sydney both find amazing beauty in the Russian architecture that they see, although both for different reasons. Part of the reason why Rose stays with Sydney when they 1st meet is because Sydney can help her navigate Russia, both from a book-based knowledge, and also navigating that culture, and Dhampir, Moroi, and Strigoi hotspots. If there’s no Russia, then why do Rose and Sydney become friends??

These sorts of themes and plot elements and character elements actually are extremely important. If all it was was the loss of a beautiful nickname, and maybe an accent, then it’d suck but it wouldn’t be the same as losing such massive and extremely important and impactful parts of the Vampire Academy book series. Not including that, or not considering it important, seriously makes me question if the people who made those decisions really understood or understand the Vampire Academy books at all, even remotely.

Disclaimer: no hate to the cast. Also this is by no means an exhaustive nor complete list, and also feel free to re-read that 1st paragraph. It’s impossible for adaptions to be exactly like the original because everybody interprets the original in their own, different, way.

'This has been the summer of Barbie and Oppenheimer. While other films have done well at the box office, few have climbed to the incredible heights of the Greta Gerwig comedy, and the Christopher Nolan drama. Oppenheimer recently extended its IMAX run, because people are going out of their way to see the movie in the large-screen format that Nolan intended. And while the industry already are discussing cast members that could find their way into the still-developing awards race, Florence Pugh’s name isn’t getting tossed around as much as, say, Cillian Murphy, Emily Blunt, or Robert Downey Jr., she might understand why … and Nolan already apologized for it.

There are two women in the life of J. Robert Oppenheimer (Cillian Murphy). His original love, Jean Tatlock (Pugh), and the woman he eventually married, “Kitty” Oppenheimer (Blunt). And even though Oppenheimer and Tatlock drifted apart, she would come back into his life at different times, creating real emotional conflict for the theoretical physicist. But the Jean Tatlock part in Oppenheimer wasn’t as large as some of the other roles in Nolan’s feature (and it is characterized by numerous nude scenes that have generated some censorship concerns). In an interview conducted before the SAG strike began, Pugh talked about the size of the role, and the fact that Nolan apologized for it when he offered her the part.

Florence Pugh said:

I didn't really know what was going on or what it was that was being made. Except I knew that Chris really, really, wanted me to know that it wasn’t a very big role and he understands if I don’t want to come near it. And I was like, ‘Doesn’t matter. Even if I’m a coffee maker at a cafe in the back of the room, let’s do it.’

You hear that often. Actors so deeply admire a filmmaker with a proven track record (like Christopher Nolan) that they agree to take any role just for the opportunity to collaborate. Florence Pugh is a massive movie star, capable of holding down massive Marvel movies like Thunderbolts, sci-fi epics like Dune: Part II, and dabbling in indie fare such as Zach Braff’s recent A Good Person. So accepting a role in Oppenheimer makes total sense. She just wanted to be part of this A-list ensemble. But Nolan still led the offer with an apology, according to Pugh, as she told MTV:

I remember he apologized about the size of the role, and I was like, ‘Please don’t apologize.’ And then he said, ‘We’ll send you the script, and honestly, you just read it and you decide if it’s, I completely understand the sizing thing.’ And I remember that evening, when I got the script, being like, ‘I know I’m going to do it.’

Smart choice. Oppenheimer is one of Christopher Nolan’s best movies, and no doubt will rank as of of the best movies of 2023...'

Haunting Instinct

Summary: Olive ran from her past, years ago. Spent every minute trying to forget it. But it threatens her when a friend admits to giving an old enemy her name, warning that they’re still looking for her.

Warnings: childhood abuse if you squint hard enough, a bit of a mental breakdown/panic attack.

*****

Braden is complimenting her hair, calling her pretty like that undoes the last minute of her life, like that will earn him back the trust he's just crushed in his hands.

He just—

Her ears are roaring with the racing pound of her heart, drowning out his empty, pointless rambling compliments — a nervous habit, like the tick he does with his left hand. He's doing it now, she notes, as she struggles to breathe past the heated clench and frozen tremble of her throat. Her mind buzzes with his earlier words, echoing without diminishing. And beyond the nervousness sitting plain on his face, there's a flickering hope in his eyes. That the paper mache compliments will mend the chasm he's just dug between them.

Olive is harder to impress than that, harder to distract.

Though it doesn't stop her from noting it, from noticing. Trained instinct has her taking in everything and filing it away. She tastes old copper in the back of her mouth. She doesn't want that instinct anymore. Doesn't want to be her mother's daughter. Doesn't want to accept that Braden's given her up.

And the audacity of him to try to sweet talk his way out of this. How dare — sure he doesn't understand the full gravity of this, but — how dare he? This isn't a simple mistake. This isn't something he can talk his way out of.

He could say anything. Call the shit in the sewers beautiful. It would be as relevant, as important, as true as what he’s saying now — something about her coat. It was pointless. His opinion, subjective and changeable and voiced in the worst wrong moment.

That’s not where her focus really is though. All of her that isn’t half-stuck in a memory (sixteen and cold and guilty) is honed on him. What he said. What he did.

To think she thought him a friend — a brother.

She’s hyper vigilant. Noting the tiny details of his mannerisms in case there’s something important hidden there. A deeper, larger betrayal. A trap.

She cocks her hip out, hand gravitating to rest there, knuckles tight against the flight instinct she’s holding back. She swallows around the fear coated in her mouth. And, drawing on years of repression and pretending, composes her vocal cords enough that she can speak without her voice shaking. Confrontations, after all, are pitiful if one (she) breaks down during.

“What?”

She doesn’t have the time anyways. The clock is ticking, whatever answer he holds. She’s been found.

He chokes, mouth stumbling over what sounds like three different sentences as he processes her question. A flash of fear, briefly overtaking the nervousness. "You are!" he insists, not noticing the panic flared in her eyes, pressing on his stupid disjointed point like she was doubting his admiration. Like she has an insecurity issue, like she doesn't believe him. Like calling her pretty is the only thing he's said.

Like that's the only thing she could possibly be questioning.

He's ignoring the truth, she knows. Avoiding the worst, trying to see the mundane in this. Yet not seeing her mindless cast off to his words that she's projecting to cower behind. He should know better, on many counts. To ignore what he admitted, not seeing the truth of her posture, be it in the projected or the real. (Because how can he not see the panic? Her heart is beating in the base of her throat, pounding through her skin, beating at her collarbones, how the fuck can't he see that?). She doesn't care what he thinks. Especially now.

When he's daring to ignore it. What he's done -- given her name to those guard dogs. Fucking ignoring it. Does he think it doesn't matter?

His body language is screaming fear, too, his brown eyes focusing on hers and flying around like the man he spoke of will come back and clobber him. His fear is reassuring.

They're not coming. For the moment, she is safe. Safe to confront him. Safe to efficiently burn the bridge he's trying to rebuild between them.

She falls back into her head, into control. (It's dangerous to get distracted when you're scared, a voice hisses, familiar in ways she's tried to forget).

"What" —she clears her throat, staggering a step forwards to enter his personal space. "Repeat what you said," she strains, voice low, so wary of prying ears.

She needs to hear him say it again.

Ensure that her mind is not playing tricks, hearing betrayal where there was just an innocent compliment (not that she needs it. She doesn’t care what anyone thinks about her appearance. It held no value). She needs to hear that confession clearly, when the drumbeat of her heart doesn’t fuzz out the end of it.

Maybe she’s losing her mind. Let that be the case. Let her be overreacting to a compliment.

She needs to know if he’s really turned her in. If their friendship is truly lost.

If she really has to leave.

Braden sputters.

Olive would laugh if she wasn’t so fucking scared. This was absurd. This was important, how can he just — talk around it like it’s not there? Be able to even pretend to think that complimenting her makes up for shoving a knife in her back? Betraying her. Ruining the life she’s finally settled into.

She stifles it easily, thanks to the crawling feeling trailing up and down her spine.

His shoulders hunch in and forwards. “Olive, I— I didn’t mean to,” he chokes out, almost too breathy for her to decipher but relieving in that he’s finally acknowledging it.

A snort threatens to bubble up her throat at that, harder to bite back than the laugh. Does he really think that’s enough for her to forgive and forget? A wordier oopsie? This is her livelihood on the line. Her life. Her voice strains with the effort of holding in the mistimed amusement.

As if she could forgive or forget this.

(It’s what she gets for making a real friend).

"No," she spits out, low and stony in hopes that the message will beat itself into his skull so he’ll give her a moment to think without the backdrop of his fearful rambling. She just needs a moment. God, what was she going to do? Was he even after forgiveness? He has not asked for it or apologized properly. Is he not sorry? He’d hardly been able to admit his fault in the first place.

Was it no accident? Was he willing?

“How is that a fucking mistake?”

Her tone makes him flinch. It hurts and gives her some sick pleasure. A sinking guilt. She doesn't want to enjoy his fear, even if he should be feeling it.

There's a part of her, though, a part that has always longed to be comfortable that wishes he said nothing. It would damn her, but. She wouldn’t have to deal with this, if he hadn’t. She’d be stuck with demons she’s far more familiar with than him, in this context.

His throat bobs. There’s a bruise, green-blue, poking up out of his collar. Olive had noticed it when he walked up, of course, had been on the cusp of asking about it when– when he admitted what he did.

Then she knew.

He got it from whatever Hero captured and interrogated him. And he just — told him everything about her.

And, well, the part of her brain that’s scrambling to exonerate him thought that he was reluctant, that he had no choice. That it hadn’t been something he chose and there was still something to salvage. Except he hasn’t apologized and she doesn’t see any signs of guilt crushing him to the floor. He looks spooked and beaten but otherwise fine. He’s shaking in his fear but he’s able to look at her. If he felt anything about what he did-- he wouldn’t be able to look at her so easily. The guilt would be too much.

He’s not guilty and her pursuers know more about her than they did before they found him.

Braden made his choice.

“How could you?” she breathes, hurt lingering in the lightness of the question.

Olive backs up, retreating from the shuddering feeling of realization that’s beginning to flutter down around her. She calls it disgust, trying to be rational. To think she’d thought him a friend. Family, even. A tremor slams against her shoulders. She starts to turn, spin a 180 on her toe and get the hell out before her past catches her, but she stops midway, clicking her heel down.

“I can’t forgive that,” she says, unsure if she’s saying it to him or herself. This is no time to be forgiving, she tells herself, the words echoed in her voice and a much harsher one. Forgiveness is weakness. Weakness is getting yourself killed or worse.

She peers at him through narrow-lidded eyes, jaw tight against the hope plummeting down her throat. He does not look guilty, or sorry. Just afraid. Afraid of her and… not of her. If he was that scared to face her, a text would have delivered the message the same. Yet he insisted on doing it personally.

Why is she staying? She should be gone. Not hesitating. Hesitation was a fool’s game.

“Olive…” he stares at her with big, wet eyes.

He came seeking comfort, she realizes, for his fear of her to be unfounded. But he blocked out that chance by saying the one thing that would make her run. Her self-preservation was too strong to risk everything by staying so she could keep him from breaking. He wounded her freedom and came to her to— what? Make amends and pretend he did nothing at all?

“You should,” she says, “never speak of me again. Forget we were ever friends.” She has to look after herself — the first rule. The most important. If he’s a traitor, he’s a traitor.

Nothing to salvage from that.

(Everything to salvage, if she just learns the details. She should. Was it just her name, innocent enough or does he know, somehow? Know everything she’s been running from?)

She’s not one to hold a grudge (liar), but she’s not one to sweep away the past without proper rectification either.  If he doesn’t fix the bridge he’s started burning, if he doesn’t convince her that he wasn’t eager to throw down the match, she’ll watch it crumble into the river.

This can become water under the bridge or there can be no bridge for the water to race beneath.

It’s his choice.

It shouldn’t be. He shouldn’t get any more chances. She should leave, but. Aren’t the details important?

“Twenty minutes,” she sighs, with a grumble. She’s gotten too soft. “Come on.”

She completes her turn and lifts her foot to take her first step towards a nearby bench. This is necessary. She needs the details, the who and the why and the what. And if he happens to explain himself, fix things. Well. That’s his matter. It’ll be hopeless if he tries but it’ll speak volumes to his motive whether he does or not.

It’s not a surprise, though, really, that he hasn’t tried yet. She knows him (that’s why this is stinging so much) but it still hurts that he’s not trying to smooth it all over immediately like she might have hoped. They’ve argued before but only over petty matters and misunderstandings they were able to talk out. There are no words, she reminds herself sternly, to make what he did right.

He sold her out.

He didn’t assist in a ploy to capture her (thank god. If he was in on it and smooth enough, she might have fallen for it), but he gave them her name which is a secret she’s kept for years. It was a starting point, them gaining headway on their fucking investigation that had nothing to do with her.

Or, well, it did. Had everything to do with her, in a sense. Not in how they think, though, potentially. Are they looking because of Wisconsin or because of that last job? She has skeletons to hide and some do lie where they are looking but she refuses to be buried for her family. The skeletons buried back then weren’t buried alone and she won’t suffocate for things her family forced her to do, the only thing she knew how to, won’t fall alone to mask their sins. She’s shrugged off everything she can from them, skeletons and memories and a name she does not respond to (but not, her brain snarls, the instincts. She knows better. She’s failing. It’s a miracle she isn’t caged or dead).

She hasn’t associated with them for years (since she was able to escape), longer than she’s been keeping her name private from the people who are desperately searching for a weak link in her family’s bloodline, for a chance to tear them all down. She has what they want. Names and addresses and aliases. But turning them in means doing the same for herself. Meant facing her demons. She won’t go down for her family and she’ll drag Braden down if he tries. She’ll ruin him if he even attempts to ruin her.

She won’t enjoy it. She never has. But she is capable of it, even without the shadow of her family as a threat lurking at her back. She learned from the best and those lessons linger.

“What?” he calls, too loud on the sidewalk.

She can feel his presence behind her, hear him scrambling to chase her. Her nails dig into her palm. She stops to glare at him over her shoulder. Was it not obvious? “You have twenty minutes,” she repeats. “I want everything you’ve said. Cooperate and I’ll call us even. I’ll let you go, just this once.”

She’s gone soft.

Why is she giving him the chance? He betrayed her, gave her name. Names can be traced to places traced to her. Does he not understand that? Does he not understand why she’s doing this? Why she’s threatening him with things she’s not sure she can carry out? Why she’s pulling back from their friendship?

She settles on the bench, the cold biting through her jeans.

His loyalty has a price.

A scuffle and some questions and he spit up everything they wanted to know. Someone like her can’t be close to people whose loyalty can be tarnished. Whose loyalty can be bought. She has secrets and a life she has to struggle to keep. Civilian life was hard. He was a threat to that.

Maybe she’s being a little irrational. Overreacting like her family is known to do because he didn’t tell them anything important, just an alias she can throw out and use to guide them on a wild goose chase, but he was put under pressure and he caved.

If he was willing to give her name over a little scuffle, a few bruises, what would he give over a broken bone? His life?

So no. She wasn’t overreacting. He settles beside her, clumsy and hesitant. He was a threat to her. She was going to leave, for good. Had no choice. It was run or be caught.

Too soft, she mourns. Civilian life is getting you killed. She can’t have friends that know who cave. He can’t– betray her, even if it was minimal, and expect her to welcome him back. She’s forgiving, she knows, with his mistakes but he’s never messed up like this before, putting her in danger.

He’s had the chance (a simple phone call to a hotline available at all times). This is the first time he’s taken it.

“Olive, please,” he begs, fingers twitching to grab at hers. She keeps her face smooth and thanks herself for telling him another alias as her real name even if that is the name she likes best for herself, one she’s particularly fond of. If she’s being honest… she doesn’t have a ‘real name’. But the one her family gave her isn’t the one he knows. If it was, she’d already be behind bars. “They had a gun on me, I didn’t know what else to do!”

Olive’s blood runs cold.

A gun? That– no. That was wrong. Extreme, out of place. There shouldn’t have been a gun, not if…

Heroes don’t threaten lives like that. Not directly, at least. Lord knows they were responsible for their share of injuries and worse but those were always a byproduct of Super Battles, of subduing Villains — easily explained and pardoned. She could see them scuffing Braden up a bit and threatening him, but a gun? That was horribly out of character.

That means—

“Did you see them? Notice anything that stood out?”

She has a sinking feeling.

She knows the culprit behind this, now, and it’s not the one she originally assumed. But it can’t be. But it could and if she’s right, she can’t blame him. She can’t say he’s a liability or a threat if she’s right.

It would change everything. But she prays it isn’t. Let it be that the Heroes or agents are too eager, that someone stepped out of line and Braden betrayed her. That’s easy. She can cope with that. It hurts but the alternative is so much worse.

Please let her not be right.

“I… it’s fuzzy,” he says, frowning at his knees. “My head felt weird. I didn’t… their voice was odd, too.” His brows pinch together. “Echo-y. I don’t know, it was… weird.”

Oh.

Oh, no.

“Were you told to lead me somewhere?” she asks.

He looks at her, eyes damp. “No.” He shakes his head.

Olive pulls the corner of her lip in her teeth. “Did… did he tell you to tell someone something?” She’d say that name, the one he would have said, but. She doesn’t want to out herself unnecessarily. She doesn’t want to wrap her tongue around the acid in those syllables.

She’d die before someone calls her that again.

“Yes.” He hesitates, eyeing her in a new way, pupils blown wide and whites stark. “...how did you know that?”

“Because.” It’s her turn to hesitate now. She glances subtly at her surroundings, at anyone who may be listening, pairing memory and guesswork against the people milling about. What if he’s here? “That was… I know who that was,” she explains, in the vaguest way she can. Then, because the truth is already confirmed and she owes Braden for doubting him. “That was my uncle,” she whispers, like the dark secret it is. It only makes sense.

The fogginess, the voice… She always hated Uncle Felix’s power.

But how did he find her? How did he find him? She ran alone, no one to pull her plans from. She was careful to keep her current self from her past, from the people she shares blood with. Paper trails were easy to follow and hers leads to the east coast, to Florida.

She’s not on the east coast. Not in Florida.

“What?” His eyes, comically, widen further. “Your Uncle?”

She nods. “Probably.” There’s a chance it was his son – they were still waiting to see if he picked up powers and there was a chance he inherited them from his father. She swallows, breath catching. “What were you told to say?”

Braden dips his chin. “I, uh, was told to tell– um.”

Olive’s hands shake. Don’t say it, she pleads. Aloud, she fills in his hesitation. “A Villain?”

“...yes.” He nods.

“And you were told…” she trails off, for him to complete her sentence.

He tugs at his left thumb, his nervous tick popping up again. “To tell… them,” his eyes lower to the concrete, “that they will not be able to stay hidden.”

Olive’s breath shudders out. 

She thought they wrote her off. A lost cause.

“And,” he continues, “that they will not stop looking.”

“Oh,” she practically mouths, the word dissolving like medicine tablets in water around her. Her family was still looking. Time has not freed her as much as she hoped it would, has not watered her from their memory or lagged their search. “Oh.”

“That’s not” —Braden clears his throat. “What does it matter?”

She shifts her feet under her, pressing the balls of her feet against the floor. Adjusting her weight as assurance that despite how it feels, the world has not fallen out from under her. “That’s a long story,” she says. Pulls air into her lungs and pushes it out. As long as she is still drawing breath, she can salvage things. Herself. “You should go. It’s…” she stands, shoving her hands into her coat pockets. “I have to leave and… it’s dangerous for you.”

“I–” his hand brushes near her elbow. Ghostly. She is unsure if the touch is meant to be soothing for him or her. “I already know,” he says, an odd sadness to his tone. “Let me help you.”

“We’d have to leave for good,” she tells him. “It wouldn’t be… entirely legal. I don’t know that we’d ever stop.”

He shifts to the edge of the bench, clasping her arm tighter. “But I won’t be left alone,” he says slowly, like a realization, “will I?”

“I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head, stares up at her. “We’re friends, right?” he asks, and she knows that her answer is important. He’s pieced it together. He’s not tossing her aside. She still has a reputation and he can’t ignore it. But he’s not running.

She nods, after a heavy moment. “Yeah. We are.”

“Then let me come with you.”

“You won’t be able to take that back,” she warns.

“I know. You’re family.”

Her breath catches. She holds his gaze. She should leave him behind. It was easier to find a pair than a lone person. But he knows too much. Fragments of the bigger picture, a past she swore when leaving that she’d never share. He was a friend and she trusted him, despite all the reasons she shouldn’t. “Okay,” she whispers. “If you’re sure.”

He grins. It’s lopsided, imperfect, but genuine. “I said I’d follow you anywhere, didn’t I?” He stands. “Us against the world, remember?”

She huffs, half poking-punching him in the side. “I was giving you an out, asshole. This isn’t a joke.”

“On brand, though.” He tips his head back. “Always knew you had a shady past.”

“Too soon,” she says. It was more than shady. Was awful. And they were on a time crunch. She was prepared to disappear, but she wasn’t prepared for him. She had to adapt. “I have a safe space,” she tells him. “It should be okay while I get you figured out.”

“Okay,” he agrees.

She sees how this overwhelms him, how out of his depth he is. It’s to be expected. He’s normal, from a normal family, he grew up living a normal life. He didn’t grow up in a family of Super Villains.

“I’ll keep you safe,” she promises, the words slipping out without her agreement.

It’s something she wants to promise. That means it will be hard for her to have. She’ll have to fight for it to be true. That’s fine. She’s fought before. She can hold her own. She can keep him safe, too, since that’s what he wants and she’s weak not to do what’s best for him. She’s been hungry for a friend like him since she was a little girl, shaking from her mother’s harsh tone.

“Don’t worry,” she tells him.

He clings to her arm, probably bruising her, but she doesn’t care. She’s had far worse. “Okay,” he says. “I trust you.”

Her chest constricts. What did she do to earn him? This fathomless trust?

She’s a criminal. And yes, she’s seen him like a brother, but. Family-like ties have never been sturdier than any other. But Braden… she bonded to him so deeply. Cared so damn much. Her mother would have opinions on that. Bonds are means of destruction, dearest. You must not have any. They’ll ruin you.

Looking at Braden, the person who’s never questioned her, who has become her piece of normal, who has always welcomed her, she amends her mother’s warning into a hope. They can save you, too.

And if she has to run forever to keep that, the normalcy he brings her, so be it.

She’ll do what she has to.

*****

Olive and Braden will be coming back, eventually. How do you like them?

Taglist: @super-writer-gal @mr-writes

Not a Phase

SUMMARY: My sexuality won’t change to fit your ideals. WORD COUNT: ~800

WARNINGS: Internalized homophobia, homophobia, more internalized homophobia, etc

A/N: Is this about my pansexuality? Yes. Is this how I came out to my language arts teacher and like a couple of her classes (because she loved it so much that she asked if she could share it out to the class on Google Classroom as one of the best pieces of writing that quarter)? Yes. Even six months later this still hits hard I-

© kazumiwrites - All rights reserved; please do not steal, edit, copy, repost (etc) my work without my express permission.

they’re so pretty (my first thought) but it’s not love (my second thought) …right?

not talking about guys (though they are pretty too) i’m talking about girls (not like you didn’t expect it)

but it’s not as if it’s real

or that’s what i thought.

never thought i’d feel this way; wouldn’t have ever believed i’d be gay.

if you asked a younger version of me, she’d stare up, blinking, not understanding: what does that even mean?

never even knew what it meant, not until fifth grade; never even knew a person who was “that way,” not until sixth.

it wasn’t until the end of seventh grade that i figured it out; that the mere presence of a girl could make my heart race without doubt.

i still remember the day when my eyes were wide open, realizing that these weren’t just some random thoughts; that they weren’t

normal.

that most people didn’t think girls were pretty; maybe a guy would. (my gender is a mess; that’s a different story)

it was as if all the years of ignoring it, of hoping it would go away, of denying it, (whether intentionally or not) didn’t work

like sappho and her poems was my queer awakening

aphrodite, goddess of love: her affections pulled me to a girl, not only guys.

do i really even like them? analyzing every bit to try to see what was so special about them, about girls.

(was there anything special?) (why did i feel this way?) (am i broken?) (why don’t i only like guys?)

even after i realized that my feelings were real, i still didn’t believe myself.

maybe there was a mistake, an error.

something wrong deep inside of me.

am i a joke? is this a game? why am i like this?

the confusion in me as i research seeing the multitude of names for different types of love finally making me realize and even accept the fact

that

i don’t care who i fall in love with i don’t care about what gender they are a guy, a girl, neither, or any—

that the heart wants what the heart wants, and it only depends on personality, not the looks.

but then again, i feel like i never fit into one place never gay enough, never straight enough never fully accepted by either group

“you have to have it rough, and you have to choose a side.” “you can’t have both, you can only be gay or straight.”

even now, i worry that it’s just a phase that i’m just going through something that it’s just not real

that i’m faking it. that i’ve been pressured into thinking this way

the words people say don’t help; hurts even worse when it comes from someone i know, maybe even care about (a classmate) (a teacher) (a friend) (a crush) (a family member)

their opinions drag me down; a hurtful word, a downward glance, even a quiet noise of distaste can make my chest ache, my heart hurt, tears threatening to spill from my eyes.

even though i know (i’ve known for more than two years now), i just don’t get accepted by everyone, especially not the people who matter the most.

“it’s just a phase.” “you’re too young to know anything.” “you need to find a good husband.” the implications that a wife would not be accepted.

it’s really amazing to be queer, isn’t it? always happiness and rainbows.

no one talks about the shame, the fear, the hurt, from both yourself and others.

forced to be hidden in “the closet,” a shell, only showing a glimpse of my true self, of who i really am

but i just remind myself no one can drag me down. that a flag with pink, yellow, and blue shouldn’t make me want to hide.

and just because people want to hurt me doesn’t mean that i should just let them.

still, some days i feel bad ashamed pained

like i shouldn’t be gay, that it’s just plain wrong. falling prey to their sharp words; listening to it, accepting it as truth.

but on other days? i feel better prouder stronger and that’s a good thing to feel, to

know.

able to be confident in who you are without any regrets. tentatively stepping out of “the closet;” starting to tell others the truth. happiness as they accept, not caring if they don’t because i was born this way— and nothing anyone says will ever change that.

knowing deep inside you that you are who you are

—and accepting it—

is much more important than having someone else acknowledge it, accept it, be happy with it.

pride in who you are is the first and most important step to accepting yourself.

I was thinking how the boys would react to Roy being the leader of monster hunting commission. Since from a young age their were very aware of the danger of human with big guns. They’re only kids so these hunters only appear to be one dimensional characters that for no reason sought out to kill them. But there isn’t reason to worry! They’re Mama is strong and she’ll protect them without hesitation. Having seen in person her kill people for them, they are have no reaction to blood or gore, as happy go lucky they are, they are the most unhinge kids ever, that even shocks and scares Roy. Just like Roy they had a epiphany when they found out they was more to they’re suppose sworn enemy. When they find out Roy’s true identity it comes to a shock, because monster hunters and Roy are opposite of the spectrum of good and evil, with Roy being the purest of the purest. Monster hunters are these monsters who kill innocent people and Roy is one of them….but they come to accept him due to the lack of their mother’s present panic (she’s is hiding it for their sake), Roy telling them stories of how he slayed demonic beasts, their classmates express their envy and admiration for the fact their dad is a hero and the most looked up man in town, the way townspeople treat him like royalty (bowing their head, clearing their way for him in a packed crowd,etc), watching him command and lead his men like a true role mode. So how can they possible hate him? Really it just breaks their prejudice of monster hunters. After, getting settling into Roy’s home, she was force to quit her job at the diner but instead moved to become his own personal secretary at the commission his reasoning “why slave away for pocket change, when you can be workin’ for me. God knows what can happen if I’m not there, this is for you”. She doesn’t understand the danger of nosey and judgmental townspeople whether it be her lack of social cues or lack of interest. She’s feels iffy being somewhere for hours knowing that only a couple feet away her of powerful men who can easily put her down if her identify is revealed. Roy dolls her up. Fixing her hair, slight makeup and put her in the most prettiest and modest dress of the many tailored dresses she owns. When they finally arrive it doesn’t take Roy long to have all his men come around for a sec for a public introduction. “This here is my woman. She going to be here often, regardless if she’s here or not she’ll be treated with respect and kindness. I don’t think I need to explain how it’s gonna go down if I hear otherwise”. They all respond with a “yes sir!”. He shows her around, the break room, where they keep all they’re weapons (he tries to hide the smug smirk on his face but she’s utterly terrified), his office and finally her little desk which is couple feet away from his. He basically have her do paperwork for him, and despite her initial skepticism it wasn’t so bad. He was patient with her, letting her take her time, reassured her, praised her and encourage her. Soothing her anxiety. She finally get to see him in a different light from his light hearted and playful attitude to more of an authoritarian. It’s a drastic change but she kinda likes…. Something about him able to captivate people, especially a huge amount of strong and threatening men, to listen to him and respect him. Really Alpha Male 💪 🐺😭😭😭. I came up with this at work. Hope you like it.

Aaa sorry it took so long to respond to this!! 😭

These unhinged boys-- I mean, it's almost like they're perfect for roy? They're used to violence, have never had a father figure, and they all appear to get along pretty well. And since this kids can already see others with this one dimensional, childish outlook on life--as children do-- I doubt it would be hard for roy to manipulate them into thinking that he only "kills bad monsters" and he'll keep them safe from the people who want to hurt them, whether that's hunters or creatures of their own race. Though I wonder how long it takes them to get over the fact that roy is a hunter? Considering their entire life they've been fed the idea that hunters are out to kill them, I wonder if it would take them some time to fully trust roy again, or if he has them hooked around his finger so well that they dont question his views on keeping them safe even if he is a hunter.

I love that they look up to him even if it's just because of their own naivety 😭. Its so sweet, and for a second you might think they're a normal family where his ''sons' want to be just like him. I can imagine them slowly morphing into little Roys, wearing similar clothes and acting more confident; but itd be interesting to see if that's because of their own free will, or if Roy is gently, subconsciously manipulating them from behind the scenes. Goodness knows that having the reader see her children turn into a man she fears would not be fun.

And having the reader become his secretary? That honestly almost sounds like the ultimate threat. It's such a good decision though to keep her in his clutches. It would be 10 times harder for her to try and flee or to ask for help if the people surrounding her dont have any intention of letting those things happen.

Roy is like the top dog though, so I'm curious to know that if someone were to find out about her, if theyd even do anything about it. I like how much of a leader he is, having everyone respect him almost as if he was a savior amongst them, and the mostly domineering man amongst his fellow hunters, like he was the epitome of masculinity to which they look up to lol.

To Shape a Dragon’s Breath review

5/5 stars Recommended if you like: fantasy, magic, dragons, Indigenous fantasy, magic schools, LGBTQ+ characters, autistic characters. Big thanks to Netgalley, Del Rey, and the author for an ARC in exchange for an honest review! This might be my favorite book of the year! I really like the take on dragons shown here and that there's such a big variety between the different kinds. I also liked the worldbuilding and enjoyed learning about the two main cultures of the book (Anequs' culture is one indigenous to this alternate-North America, and the settler culture is a German-Nordic mix). I also enjoyed how there were stories within the story and how these were used to bring more history and lore into it. The dragons and the lore were clearly well thought out. I can't remember all the species of dragons, but Anequs comes into contact with a lot of different species that each seem to have their own appearance, temperament, and activities/uses. Some of them come across as being more of the traditional Western kind of dragon while others have feathers, fur, and/or antlers. We also get to see some of the lore of the world, with some of the stories being completely unique and others being repeats of the same myth/story but from a different angle. I thought this was a fun way to include information about the different cultures and beliefs while still fitting them within the frame and style of the story. I liked learning about Anequs' culture and their beliefs. There's clearly a greater appreciation for nature and animals than in the Anglish culture, and Anequs gets quite the culture shock. Likewise, the Masquisit and Naquisit are much more LGBT+ friendly and same-sex relationships, transgender/gender fluid people, and poly relationships are all casually accepted. There are several LGBTQ characters in the book, including Anequs, who are out to varying degrees. I also enjoyed learning about the oral history traditions and the dances, and the role they play in the story is very interesting. I thought Anglish culture was mostly stuffy, which I think is the point, but there were also some interesting aspects to it as well. As a German speaker, I'm always delighted to see it show up in English books. While the language used in this book isn't exactly German, my take on it is that this is an 'alternate' earth anyway, so the German language just underwent a different history than the one on this earth, one that involves a lot more Dutch and Nordic influence. Some words are changed, so, pfennig = pennik, but others remain the same, Versuch = try/attempt. The compound words were a little difficult to get a hold of, I think another reviewer mentioned that they aren't compounded morphologically correctly, but it wasn't too troublesome and I don't think any non-German speakers would notice. This is a very character-driven story, with each of the major characters having at least some learning and growth to do. There's a couple of scenes that have action in them, but a lot of the book is an exploration. I enjoyed the slower pace and getting to know the characters and the world they're in. It felt slice-of-life at times, which I feel is often missing from fantasy stories, especially ones that are more action driven. Anequs is someone who is very solid in who she is. She may have doubts about things at times, but she never doubts who she is as a person and what she wants out of life. This leads to her very matter-of-factly pushing back against the expectations people have of her as a result of her race and/or gender. I very much enjoyed seeing her go head-to-head with others' expectations and prejudices because she was never one to backdown to keep the peace, but rather forced people to consider their prejudices, even if it didn't always lead to them reconsidering them. Anequs is also someone who seems to make friends easily, and she has a friendly and welcoming demeanor and is considerate of others' needs. The story is, obviously, mainly about Anequs and her dragon, Kasaqua, but there are some major side characters in the book as well. Marta is Anequs' roommate at the school and the only other female dragoneer (or really, only since Anequs distinguishes between dragoneer and Nampeshiweisit). She can be a bit annoying at times because she is so invested and interested in the workings of society, and thus likes to discuss dresses and the who's who gossip. Marta is from high Anglish society and brings those prejudices and rules of civility with her, resulting in some clashes between her and Anequs. Marta is an interesting character because she's clearly interested in being friends with Anequs but also thinks that the way things are done in Anglish high society is the correct way to do them and that Anequs breaking those rules makes her backward. She does get the chance to learn over the course of the story, but doesn't fully break free of her prejudices even by the end of the book, though she does improve. As much as I would've liked to see Marta learn and completely change her ways, I think the way it's written is probably more realistic. Theod is another interesting case. He's a Naquisit who was raised in Anglish society after his parents were killed and hasn't had any contact with his own culture. Like Marta, he has prejudices against the Indigenous cultures of the region and thinks that Anglish high society is improvement/progress. He and Anequs butt heads as well, but Anequs is able to get through to Theod more than Marta by commiserating with him and sharing information from her/their culture. He's a bit difficult to like at first since he's quite abrupt and grumpy, but over the course of the book he warms a lot and seems happy in the friend group. Sander is the other really 'main' side character. He's also Anglish, like Marta, but unlike her he's far more open and less prejudiced. He's autistic and largely nonverbal, preferring to write instead. He has an AAC device that allows him to write something in wax using a stylus and then use magnets to erase it so he never runs out of room. You don't really see AAC devices a lot in fiction (I don't think I've ever seen one), even when characters are completely nonverbal, so I was both surprised and excited by it's inclusion here. I liked Sander a lot and thought he was a good friend to Anequs from the beginning. A lot of his story is about gaining confidence in himself and getting free from his mother, who's a truly terrible person. I liked Sander's sister, Lisbet, as well and hope we see her in future books. Liberty is another side character, I wouldn't say she's a major character since I don't think she gets enough scenes, but she impacts Anequs a lot and I suspect she'll be a bigger character in the sequel. Liberty is an indentured servant at the school and is the first person Anequs befriends when she gets there. The two of them develop a close relationship, and are supportive of one another's goals. I look forward to seeing more of her in the future. Niquiat is Anequs' brother also plays a role in the book. He left their island a few years prior to Anequs and lives in Vastergot, the closest city to the school. Niquiat has a bit more conflict with the family than Anequs does, though this improves over the course of the book as Anequs, then their father gain a better understanding of Niquiat's interests and goals. This book really dives deep into into discussions of colonialism and all its violences and injustices. It tackles both the overt instances of it (i.e., racism and ethnocentrism) as well as more subtle instances (i.e., the erasing of Indigenous knowledge and silencing of Indigenous people), and the well-known assumptions that 'of course you want to be part of settler society, it's a vast improvement from your own.' There's a really great juxtaposition between the two main cultures of the book, with the settler culture claiming civility but reflecting a stark lack of care and community, while the Indigenous cultures embody that care and community and show that the so-called 'uncivilized' are actually far more welcoming and accepting. There's also a clash in the book between tradition and progress, deciding what exactly progress looks like, and whether and how foreign technologies can be adapted to the culture so the advantages of it are there without also seeing any erasure. Overall, I really enjoyed this book and think it'll probably be one of my favorite reads for the year, if not my favorite. I can't wait for the sequel and am so bummed I'll have to wait until 2024 to get it!

Nov. 18, 2023

Thrúd fought with Sun Wukong for two days. Betelgeuse won the bet. As such, she got to choose which guide would be assigned to Thrúd.

She fell to her knees, and I projected myself to her. “I condemned Sun Wukong, the Monkey King, to be imprisoned in a stone for five hundred years, because of the same behaviors you exhibit,” I said. “Congratulations. You have taught him something I could not.”

She looked up at me. “Hope… help me. I can’t stand… too much bleeding.”

I chuckled. “This coming from the girl who called out Death, himself.” I stemmed the bleeding, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

“Thank you.”

“You see now what you should be fighting… Don’t you?”

“The same thing my father fought; his past, his shortcomings…”

I held up a mirror to her. “You don’t gain anything by comparing yourself to others. And by now I think you’ve noticed.”

She looked up into the mirror for a long moment. “Grandfather gave up an eye for wisdom, father gave up his past and legacy...what must I forfeit?”

“Everyone is different. You know Odin nearly killed your father?”

“He told me.”

“You know why?”

She sneered. “Defiance.”

I scoffed. “What a short explanation. Your father loved me enough to know that what Odin was doing was wrong. And Odin couldn’t possibly be wrong, for once.”

She shook her head and squinted up at me. “Isn’t that the point of being powerful? You set the standard for what is just and what is not.”

I shook my head back at her. “You don’t set the standards for others. You set it for yourself. I’d say genocide is objectively wrong, wouldn’t you?”

“Grandfather said the giants were an abomination, an uncivilized blight upon the realms.”

I bobbed my head. “That’s an opinion. And you know what they say about opinions. Having an opinion does not make you correct.” I stepped to one side of her. “The astral realm I introduced you to… it’s full of some of the most amazing guides in existence. Many of them are Jotnar. Like Surtr, who forged my sword. The Reckoning of the Ages. Mother does not discriminate based on race. It’s petty and stupid.”

Thrúd hummed thoughtfully.

I went on. “Odin could not accept that there was any other path than his own. And in that regard, the knowledge he gleaned only served to make him paranoid, manipulative, and violent. And in the end, that is the very trait that led to his demise. He will not reenter the cosmic cycle. Not like others who die.”

The arena where she and Monkey dueled transformed into a section of the Unalome, and Thrúd stood up, bewildered. I challenged her to take a step forward. As soon as she did, BG’s red aura washed over us.

“I just think back to what I heard growing up;” she said, “‘Power doesn't corrupt, it enables’.”

I shrugged. “Sure. And I can do anything. But WHAT does it enable? Your wildest dreams? Your deepest fears? Your darkest desires? You get to choose. And the real strength is in making that choice.”

“Peace isn’t sought; it’s enforced.”

I shook my head. “Peace is a careful balance of pursuit and rest.”

“You can’t perfect something without breaking it.”

“There’s no such thing as perfection.”

She scoffed. “Says the woman who can do anything.”

“And who said you can’t? Not me!” I turned to look at her. “News flash, baby, but I’m not perfect. Never will be. So why the fuck would I be able to create something ‘perfect?’ All I can be is ‘enough.’” I turned and kept walking. “Your grandfather thought the universe would be perfect if he could control all of it." I shook my head. "And as a result, I seriously doubt he was ever happy a day in his long life. There are days when I’m so anxious that I forget I’m not supposed to fix everything. That i shouldn’t care if everyone likes me or follows me, or wants to be with me. And the weight… it’s too heavy.” I stopped to wait for her a bit. “So some days… I’m just a human. Doing my best with what I can. And that keeps me humble. Puts a lot of things into perspective. Do only what you can, and let someone else bother with the rest. When I can carry it, I play dream regent… but I have a lot of help. I have people who really care about me… and not just because I’m powerful.”

I left her in BG’s care, unaware of what would happen next…. That only days later, she would come falling out of the sky, crawling toward my palace.

By the time Vassilios brought her arrival to my attention, she was being escorted by a platoon of guards.

I ran down to meet them, and looked Thrúd over. Her left arm was missing, and in its place was a shimmering iridescent prosthetic.

“What happened?” I asked.

“The red giantess… She took it from me… She said it was hers…”

I started healing her wounds. “Gullveig. That’s who you’re talking about, right? Betelgeuse? The one you fought earlier?”

She nodded. “Yes. She said if I wanted it back, I had to find someone named Elpis.”

I grinned. “And then she threw you at me.”

Thrúd nodded.

I shifted my weight. “Well, first off… BG is Vanir. She wasn’t born a giant. Second, Elpis is my aspect. The Greeks still call me ‘Elpida’. She is also an astral guide, like BG.”

She nodded again. “Father interrupted my battle with ‘BG’, when I called Mjolnir to my hand. Said I had become too brazen. We fought, then BG interrupted and she and I fought for three days.”

“Seems she made her point,” I murmured. “She is the Warrior of the Ages, after all.”

“She said I fought well enough not to annoy her.” Thrúd clicked her tongue. “More insult than compliment...”

“If I were you, I WOULD take it as a compliment. BG does not suffer incompetence.”

BG had told her she fights in much the same way her grandfather did, and that she knew why Thrúd had challenged Death. Instead of revealing the answer, though, she cut off Thrúd’s arm and threw her in my direction. “She said if I wanted to seek what lies beyond battle, find Elpis.”

I chuckled and led the part inside, and invited Thrúd to sit with me in the kitchen. I explained that taking limbs is a thing astral guides do when they notice something holding their students back, and called Elpis to meet with Thrúd.

Neither seemed to be impressed by the other. Elpis is willowy and delicate-looking, with long dark hair, and Thrúd is chiseled, rugged, and a bit unkempt.

“A fairy is supposed to guide me?” Thrúd asked.

I sighed. “Thrúd…. She’s an astral guide. You NEVER underestimate astral guides.”

“I didn’t underestimate BG…”

“But you’re perfectly willing to underestimate everyone else around you?” I asked. “You have a bad habit of attributing muscle to strength.”

I told her very briefly of how Hecate and Hypnos intended to use Elpis as a weapon of mass destruction because of her power, and that was five thousand years before she became an astral guide. It was a nice STFU moment from me to Thrúd.

Elpis was mostly quiet during the introduction, but I got to hear more from them the following day. Elpis was showing her new student around the garden.

“It’s too quiet,” Thrúd said sulkily.

Elpis harrumphed. “Are you so used to chaos that quiet threatens you?” She shook her head. “Literally threatened… by nothing!”

“That’s not it,” Thrúd insisted. “Have you ever been hunting?”

Elpis nodded.

“It gets quiet when there’s a predator around.”

The guide smiled and nodded her head toward the castle. “There is.”

Thrúd looked over her shoulder at the castle. “What’s she like?”

“Kind. Not the sort to show off needlessly.” She looked back up toward the castle. “You met Phobetor?”

“Nightmare god? Yeah.”

“He’s terrified of her.”

Thrúd harrumphed.

“Why do you want to fight her, anyway?” Elpis asked.

“You learn a lot about a person from how they fight.”

Elpis chuckled, then started laughing out loud.

Thrúd wasn’t entirely sure what was funny, but she invited Elpis back to Thrúdheim for a stein of mead. Eventually Thrúd got around to asking about my swords, what Elpis knew, and if she could wield the ROTA. But although Elpis answered her questions, she refused to produce the ROTA just for the spectacle of it. She expressed blasé disinterest in fighting Thrúd at all. But she had something else up her sleeve.

“How about a game?” she asked, and produced two wooden cups and ten dice.

“What are we playing?”

“Devil’s Dice.” She told Thrúd the rules, and then used the first round to teach her opponent how it was played. Then she decided it was time for a wager.

Thrúd offered her three best Einherjar, but Elpis suggested the stakes be raised. “Let’s be vulnerable,” she said. “Wager something of a personal risk.”

Thrúd reluctantly offered her two favorite ravens. “My eyes and ears,” she said.

“Very well. Shall I wager what you want, or what you think you want?”

“What?”

Elpis elaborated. “You want strength; real strength. But what you think you want…” She pulled out Thrúd’s missing arm and laid it on the table.”

Thrúd stood up. “Where did you get that?” she cried.

“We’re astral guides. We talk to each other.” Elpis sat back. “And I’m an aspect of the chick who can do anything.”

And so the game began. Thrúd lost in two turns, and threw her cup across the room.

Elpis graciously only took one of the ravens as a token of their contract, and promised to still teach Thrúd what real strength looks like. “Fighting isn’t just about crossing blades,” she said. “And besides, no battle is ever won. You never win outright. You just trade one battle for a different one. And we all struggle. Who are you to determine whose struggle is more or less valiant?”

“I am a chooser of the slain. And the best warriors never come quietly.”

“They do if they believe in you,” Elpis answered. “It’s why I mentioned Phobetor. He’s terrified of Hope, it’s true. But she believes in him, and truly cares about him. And she demonstrates it. And so, terrified though he is, he loves her.” She set her stein down. “I’m one of the aspects who formed the ROTA. I went willingly. And I still have a freedom I never had before. That’s what Hope gives that you so readily forget.”

♦ NO MOURNERS, NO FUNERALS. AMONG THEM IT PASSED FOR GOOD LUCK.

name: Svetlana Belyakova.

age: Thirty-Three.

race: Grisha.

powers / skillset: Durast.

gender: Female.

DURAST & SPYMASTER. She is the fly without limits. She doesn’t stick to walls but glides through them. She doesn’t zip around but lingers, a featherlike touch of delicate skin on your shoulder as she smiles in earnest. She is the leach, sinking her teeth deep into you, draining you of every last drop of knowledge, and you don’t even know it. You only see that charming smile before she is slipping away from you.

Trigger Warning: Mentions of death & loss.

She was ethereal, almost ghostly. She was a wolf even when dressed in silk. She was never meant for such a divine cage. She was meant for divine violence. Svetlana, dear Lana, abhorred how her family threw away their affluent life in Starosva and went into hiding when she and her twin sister, Anastasiya, developed powers. Powers that were uniquely different. Astounding since Svetlana felt they shared the same everything. Even the same face. But the world decided they could be different in this. She a durast. Her sister a heartrender. And some might have wondered if Svetlana coveted her twin's abilities, seemingly more high-powered, but she didn’t. She never cared about the abilities unlike her sister who was so deeply fascinated. Svetlana just wanted her old life back. She didn’t want to hide in the silhouette of her former life and she didn’t understand how her sister could while still being so happy. Maybe that was where they really differed. Svetlana fought while Ana accepted it. And maybe if Svetlana hadn’t fought so much, her sister would still be alive. If she hadn’t kept escaping the cage for a foolish tryst with an even more foolish boy, she could still have her family. But it’s too late now. The choice was made and her sister was dead.

It happened because he thought he trapped her. The foolish boy thought he offered up the right one to the king's men. He didn’t know she had a sister. She never said. So he thought he had her. But he didn’t. Same face. Wrong girl. All because he wanted money for a better life and he thought he could get a pretty penny for her. All he got, though, was both himself and her sister killed. Stupid, stupid boy. And stupid, stupid Lana. She was so stupid to believe there were people out there she could trust. She would never make that mistake again. The cost of it was everything, and her parents never forgave her for it. They looked at her and only saw the pain of loss. A loss that they said was her fault. It wasn’t. She didn’t kill her sister. She wasn’t the reason behind the loss of half her soul. She wouldn’t take the blame. Couldn’t. It wasn’t her fault that her life was twisted into some cruel cage she was forced to live within. It wasn’t her fault the world hated her just for existing. It wasn’t her fault. She just couldn’t accept that. The only thing she could accept was the bitter promise of retaliation. Svetlana would play their game of tit for tat. She would fight as she always had and never accept things like Anastasiya had. She would not allow fear to control her any longer. Svetlana would make this world better, or she’d happily watch it burn.

MIKHAIL: He was something solid to lean against. He was her rock, her cornerstone. He was as fierce as he was unmoving, and her soul melded so beautifully with his. He filled the space in her heart where there was a deep vacancy left from her sister's absence and there isn’t a single person in this world she’d rather stand beside. She’s here for him just as much as he is here for her, and they make the perfect unit as they understand each other deeply. They understand the deep loss the other feels and how irrefutably damaged they are. But they never try to repair the other. Svetlana will only ever just be there for him, always, without question or doubt. NASTIA: It was like looking in a dark mirror. She saw her former self. She saw the impetuous young girl who got others hurt, or worse. She didn’t like it. She hates how Nastia sees everything as an act of rebellion. It was a destructive way to live and the Volki didn’t need reckless girls. It needed those more like herself now who thought before they acted and Svetlana made sure Nastia knew this. She spent half of their conversations teaching her the meaning of restraint so that one day they can both reap the benefits of this cause instead of burying more bodies. ANTON: She had a type. Stupid, stupid boys whose intentions led to very bad things. So she also had a rule. Don’t sleep with anyone apart of the crew. Don’t sleep with anyone period. There were only consequences to those kinds of actions and she wasn’t so foolish anymore to believe she wouldn’t be hurt if she allowed a little dalliance every now and again. But Anton is persistent. Persistently annoying her and squeezing his way through the cracks to be at her side. She wants to tell him to get lost, but she also doesn’t and she wishes she knew why because she does know anything between them wouldn’t end well.

SVETLANA BELYAKOVA IS PORTRAYED BY ADRIANNE HO & IS CURRENTLY OPEN.

[Just for the hell of it. Wanted to do it with someone else jokingly but...then I realized it would not be cool xD] (Yamamoto)    𝑲𝑰𝑺𝑺  ﹠ ᵀᴱᴸᴸ A kiss shared during a game  ( truth or dare ,  spin the bottle ,  etc ) .

Taken from meme: [x] ||Accepting||  Kekekek I mean you're always free to do/send whatever. Most of these i'll be writing for fun anyways. No way canon

Readmore because I apparently love to write a lot for more drabble-esque memes LOLOLOL

The Vongola sure has some weird traditions and games. Haru is listening to the instructions, and she can’t help but think… that there is some kind of motive here. You’re trying to convince her that some scary, burly mafia guys have played this game historically? For points?

Press X to doubt.

Every single year, Reborn would come up with some new game that he attests was played in the olden Vongola days. Impression competitions for birthdays, New Years games like kurata and grabbing fortunes out of a gator’s mouth?

Maybe the gator- but Kurata? She strongly doubts the validity that they played such a game in Italy. Then again—maybe it was a game introduced by Asari-san?

… There’s no way this game was introduced by Asari-san though.

It was another race, to see which team could move the most number of cards from point a to point b. At no point was the card allowed to touch the floor, and you couldn’t use your hands. Teams had time to discuss among themselves to figure what their gameplan was going to be.

‘Isn’t this just the fanservice game to make it look like people are kissing each other?’ She looks at Reborn dubiously, sincerely doubting this was a true Vongola game. You can’t fool her! Look at the way he’s avoiding her gaze!

Everyone had to pick from a hat to determine if you joined the game or sat out. The Cavallone team seemingly had worse luck as most of their members had to play, but Haru suspected that it wasn’t necessarily the case that having less people on your team would make it easier for you.

The Vongola team consisted of Gokudera, Ryohei, Yamamoto, Haru, and Lambo. Just the lineup alone made Haru think that this couldn’t end well. They spent the majority of the time discussing the order (mostly because Lambo was being a menace).

With only less than a minute to spare, they had to quickly decide on a strategy.

“Hey, I’ve seen a game like this before. You just have to suck the card using your mouth and transfer it to the next person.” Ryohei had seen it on TV before. As much as the idea sent shivers of disgust down his spine, he wanted to win.

No man goes into battle with the thought of losing!

“Times up. Get to your places.”

The order went Gokudera, Ryohei, Yamamoto, Haru, and Lambo as the final lynchpin. No one wanted to trust Lambo with going first, and they feared that he’d drop the card if he was placed anywhere in the middle.

All they could do was bank on the hope that even if he dropped the card at the end, he did so on top of the designated spot.

Reborn rings the gong to start the race, and the tensions were high as both teams wanted to win. The loser at the end of the day has to pay a fee, after all! How mafia-like, isn’t it?

Haru thought about it once Yamamoto received the card from Ryohei: was their height difference going to be an issue?

Most people when playing this game tried to keep their heads upright, facing the sky to prevent the card from falling, but Yamamoto couldn’t do that if he wanted to pass the card off to her.

Haru is what you call… vertically challenged. (translation: short)

Ryohei and Gokudera were of similar height, so the hand off wasn’t too difficult, but between Yamamoto and Haru—just a bit more difficult.

They stood there, frozen for a moment as they both moved, trying to figure a position that worked. Haru places a hand on Yamamoto’s arm to stop him from moving so much, tugging on his sleeve to direct him to lean forward- just enough for her to reach with her tippy toes.

The two meet in the middle, in the process of making the hand off, and Haru retrieves the card, and she lets him know by patting his arm. Just as they are parting, “Haru! You’re taking too long, hurry up!”

The impatient child leaps onto Haru, taking her by surprise. She drops the card from her surprise and she loses her balance from Lambo jumping onto her back. She falls forward, and feels someone catching her to steady her onto her feet.

She’s grateful for this, but she also feels something else. Her eyes go wide as she realizes that because of their faces already being so close to each other, when she stumbled, her lips fell right into Yamamoto’s.

The Vongola side of the room goes quiet in shock. That is, until—“HAHI! Ha-Ha-Haru is so sorry!” The brunette squeals. “Lambo! You can’t do that, it’s dangerous!” She has to raise a complaint with the one who made this happen.

Haru drops to the ground, covering her face with her hands in embarrassment. “Wait, Aho-onna! Get back up! We’re in the middle of a competition!”

After a minute, Haru did get back up to try again, mostly thanks to Lambo shaking her, telling her that he wanted to have his turn in the game. He was the all important lynchpin! He has to shine and bring their side the victory!

The game resumes and they try again, but once Yamamoto has the card, Haru can’t forget what just happened- going completely red in the face. “Sorry! Haru can’t do it!” She drops to the ground again and covers her face with her hands.

It was too soon for her to have calmed her heart! Go on without her!

Needless to say, the game ended with the Vongola team being unable to do anything.

“Cavallone team: 6 cards! Vongola team… a depressing 0 cards.” Reborn announces the results of the competition. The agonizing wails of two competitive dolts rings in the background and cue Haru yelling at Gokudera to shut up. Kyoko instead takes to comforting her brother, telling him it’s okay that they lost. They’ll win the next one!

A fight breaks out between the Haru and Gokudera, as per usual. It was basically a daily occurrence between them.

Convenient, really, since she didn’t know how to face Yamamoto after that. What better way to avoid an awkward situation? Fight with your local angry boi!

“Amateurs, you can’t use your hands, but you can use everything else. If you pick up the card by using the tip of your tongue to pick up the corner of the card, you lean it up against your wrist. Pick it up with your teeth from there and transfer between your teammates by grabbing the card with your teeth.” Dino explains, being the dutiful older brother type character that he is.

That only makes Gokudera explode. If they had more time to strategize, they could’ve thought of that too!

Happy Engagement

Relationship: Loki x Reader Warnings: contains some dark elements: manipulation Summary: Loki has always thought of you as his and there isn’t anything he won’t do to keep it that way. A/N: I’ve been sitting on this one shot for a while! I had the idea for it months ago and finally wrote it and then it just sat on my computer while I wrote other stuff but I figured since I don’t have anything really new this week it’d be perfect to put out! I hope you enjoy it because I greatly do :)

Masterlist

Loki had always been an interesting force in your life.

You two met when you were just children in school. You two were the official unofficial outsides of your school year — he was a prince, you were a peasant. Despite his royal standing, he’d play with you at recess. For these outlier ways, you two never interacted much with the other kids, life practically forcing you two to one another.

At such a young age, you hadn’t realized how significant this bond would become. As a child, you were just glad someone was talking to you. He shouldn’t have even been looking at you, should’ve maybe been disgusted with your presence alone. You should’ve been some onlooker, amazed by him and his magic but you weren’t — well, except for the magic part. His magic was little when you were kids but it drew quite the amazement from you.

Over time, you two naturally grew with one another. From childhood into your teens and still, now, you two made an unlikely pair of best friends as young adults. All of this though did not come without some bumps along the way.

In your teens, Loki had almost completely shut you out. For some reason, he seemed to be acting embarrassed by you. Your mother had warned you this may happen but you thought he was different, swore he was, unless his sincerity was like the many other tricks he played. Eventually, supposedly after some talking down from his brother, Loki appeared back at your door asking if you wanted to go for a walk.

This disappearing and coming back had become a habit for him over his teenage years and into adulthood. Loki never explicitly told you why but you could tell there was something eating away at him. It had been there a long time and it felt like disassociating himself with you was his solution.

You thought everything was coming to an abrupt end when you fell pregnant. You had been seeing a nobleman who was a regular customer in your parents’ shop. He was absolutely charming and delightful, practically swept you right off your feet within minutes of meeting. Your parents were ecstatic when he asked to court you.

You yourself were stunned but you ran to tell Loki about it. He was speechless. You tried telling him about the man but something in Loki snapped. He got unreasonably upset, spewing hateful comments about the man, practically forcing you out of his chambers in the process. He went radio silent again.

You tried to ignore losing your best friend — again — and focused on your new relationship. He wooed you endlessly with dates to lavish dinners and dawning you in lovely gowns. It was all so much more than you had ever expected in life. He’d tell you you deserved it and whisper sweet nothings in your ear as you two would get so lost in one another.

A bit shamefully, hypnotized by the romantics of it all, you gave yourself to him. Tangled in the sheets with him as your guide, you let the man you felt you would marry have every last bit of you.

And for a while after, it was blissful. Nothing had seemed to change between you two until he announced he had to go away for a bit. Confused, you asked why suddenly now facing the fact you were losing another person in your life. He explained he was needed by his father on a different realm, part of the family "business," as he described it.

Days after his departure, you learned you were pregnant. Around this time, Loki popped back up in your life. You felt relieved having someone to confide in but when you told him of your pregnancy, he was far from the supportive force you thought you’d get. He didn’t yell or get upset per se but he was beyond stunned.  

He left for a bit then but can back in less time than last. This time he brought along baby supplies and congratulated you. It was a complete one-eighty from his prior behavior but you accepted it, gratefully. Loki ended up being your main person throughout the pregnancy as clues of when your boyfriend would return were nonexistent.

"Did he know you were carrying his child when he left?" Loki had asked you one night. You two were sitting in the living room of the makeshift house you had acquired. You didn’t feel very good that this was the home you were bringing a child into when you knew her father could’ve provided her with a better one. But, at the end of the day, it was a roof over both your heads.

You crocheted another knot in the baby blanket. "No, he didn’t. I didn’t even know."

Loki gave a passing hum at that answer. He didn’t ask about your boyfriend very much after that.

Once your baby girl arrived, she became your entire world, your entire focus. Between caring for her and working to provide, you had little time to worry about your boyfriend still being gone. But it wasn’t as lonely as it may have looked because Loki was always by your side. Working around his royal duties, he’d take time to come visit you and your daughter even sometimes staying for dinner or to play with her. You didn’t miss how he was unintentionally becoming the father she was missing. You never said anything, though, always biting your tongue as you waited for her father to return.

Hope began to face on that front after your daughter turned three. Maybe he was just a footnote in your life, a foolish hopeful dream, but at least he had given you the lovely gift of your child. You weren’t giving up, still placing him in the boyfriend spot of your mind, but you couldn’t deny doubt crept in. Maybe a relationship of any capacity just wasn’t in the cards for you.

Or so you thought.

As Loki continued with his royal responsibilities, he was growing older and more powerful. That’s when the rumors of marriage began floating about. Your mother had brought it up to you once asking if you met any of his potential suitors. Your stomach did a somersault. You didn’t even know there were suitors, let alone met any of them. You tried to keep your cool and just told her no.

Who these suitors were and if they really existed, you never found out. You never even had the guts to ask about them especially after Loki pulled you aside one night after a dinner at the palace.

He rarely ever invited you to dinners with his family so to get this spontaneous invitation, you didn’t hesitate to attend. He even allowed you to bring along your daughter. She was playing with some servants’ children when Loki asked you to the garden.

"Feeling like a nighttime stroll?" You asked with a little laugh. Loki just smiled.

"There’s actually something I want to speak to you about."

"Oh," you frowned. "Is everything okay?"

Loki nodded. "Yes, yes, everything is fine." He looked up at the sky, almost lost in thought as you walked. You thought for a split second how lovely he looked. "I’m sure you have heard by now the…talk about my anticipated engagement."

Your heart practically stopped beating at that moment. Your hands instinctively gripped at the skirt of your dress as if you were ready to run away at the drop of a hat. Trying to keep your voice stead, you said, "Yes, I believe my mother mentioned that to me the other day."

He shot you an unreadable side glance. Your hands gripped the fabric tighter. Why were you feeling like this? Was that…jealousy you felt? You didn’t understand where that had come from. This was your best friend. Your prince best friend. He was bound to get married and have a lavish life with his bride. You couldn’t stop that, you couldn’t change it.

"Do you know anything of the women I have been offered?"

Was this another one of his cruel jokes? You wanted to vomit all over the bushes of flowers passing you as you walked. You managed to shake your head in response. "I’m sure they’re all wonderful."

He scoffed. "More like they’re all incredibly boring."

You gasped, "Loki, I’m not sure you should be speaking that way of them."

"It’s doesn’t matter," he shrugged, "because none of them are what I want."

You didn’t know if you actually wanted to know what he was seeking. You looked at him wearily.

You two walked in silence for a moment. Loki was now watching the ground intensely. You couldn’t believe how much his gaze was wandering. It must’ve been for courage because the next words out of his mouth were ones you had never thought you’d ever hear. From anyone.

"I believe you could be what I want," he said. He spoke your name so softly. "I’d like to ask for your hand in marriage."

You stopped walking, your legs suddenly unable to move. Your eyes grew wide as complete shock raced over you. You didn’t know what to do, too scared to speak because you didn’t know what was going to come out. Your first thought was that this was one of his magic tricks. Maybe he wasn’t even here, just a clone of him as he wished to make a fool of you. It wouldn’t be the first time but he had never been so cruel.

"You’re not saying anything," Loki noted. He had stopped a few feet ahead of you, completely taken off guard by your halt.

"I-I don’t understand." The words felt so heavy forcing their way out of your mouth.

"I don’t believe I stuttered, dear."

Your jaw dropped, surprised it hadn’t hit the floor already. He was seriously asking this. Loki, a literal prince, and your best friend, was asking for your hand in marriage. But — But you just didn’t know why. Why would he ask such a thing? Not only were you an unwed mother, he knew very well about your boyfriend. It was almost insulting he’d think you’d give up just because business or whatever it was was taking a while. You didn’t even want to begin to think about what this could all mean for your daughter.

"Loki… I… I don’t know. This seems crazy—,"

"Crazy?" His expression turned dark. You suddenly regretted the word despite it holding true. "What is so crazy about me wanting to take your hand? I thought this could be good. You and your daughter would have everything you’d ever want. You’d be a princess for crying out loud!"

You flinched at his anger. You had never seen him so enraged before. It made your whole body stiffen.

"I see. This… This is very generous of you but my boyfriend…"

Loki chuckled but there wasn’t any humor found within it. "Of course. The nobleman." He rolled his eyes. "Tell me again, dear, how long has it been? Do you really think he’s going to just show back up one day?"

"Of course," you nodded. "He told me—,"

"He’s not coming back."

You began shaking your head, growing more and more upset as the seconds passed. "You don’t know that."

Loki sighed, defeatedly. "I do know that, dear." A heavy pause. "I know that because I’m the one that sent him away."

You were certain in that moment your heart had stopped. Everything had stopped. You could barely tell anymore how you got from point A to point B.

"Wh-What do you mean?"

"What I mean is I’ve had my eye on you for a long time," he explained. He was standing so tall making you feel minuscule. "I always thought you could be just right for me but then that nobleman waltzed into your life. Granted, he wasn’t me. He couldn’t give you what I could but he tried his best." Loki shrugged. "I had no choice, really. He threatened everything. He derailed my plan but it’s alright. I think after tonight it’ll be back on track, correct?"

You held your hands up in defense, practically begging Loki to slow down. Your head was spinning. "You sent away the father of my child?"

Loki sighed, sounding actually regretful. "Truly, that wasn’t ever my intention. I didn’t know he was going to do that."

"And you think since you forced him out of the picture, you can swoop in and ask for my hand in marriage? We never had a courtship! Are you even hearing yourself?"

"I’m a prince, darling." He sounded so casual. "We do not court like the rest of you."

Gosh, you felt like you were going to vomit. Your hands fell to your stomach as you tried to calm yourself. You had never heard Loki separate you two so clearly before. Like he had drawn a line, definitively.

Your words tasted like venom as you forced yourself to speak. "Can I at least think about it?"

"I’m afraid not. They’d like an answer tonight."

Tonight. That was what this dinner had been for. You weren’t invited just out of the kindness of his heart. You had been attending your own engagement party.

"Loki, this… I— This is insane. You’re— You’re insane—,"

"Am I, really?" He pressed, taking a few steps closer. You trembled under a darkened gaze you had never seen before on him. "I’m not sure that’s how you should be speaking to the man trying to offer you a bit of… stability."

"Stability?" You repeated. "You think that’s all that I want?"

"Would this not grant your daughter a better life? The little shop of yours is only getting you two so far, dear."

The shock had worn off as you were now being filled with rage. "Don’t you dare bring my daughter into this anymore," you gritted. "Of course, I want nothing but the best for her but I also deserve someone who will truly love me. You’re — You’re just asking to fulfill some royal commitment and trying to pass it off like this is some big, grand gesture to help me."

Loki looked a bit taken back by your words. Even you were a bit surprised by yourself. You didn’t know where this fight was coming from within you. Probably from the depths of motherhood, if you had to guess. But it felt good in a way.

After a heavy moment, Loki asked, "Was I so wrong to assume this proposal could actually help us both?"

That was the real kicker of it all, you thought. This actually could help you both.

"I want to marry someone who loves me."

Loki seemed to debate around the idea mentally. "I’m certain that within time something could bloom. I’m not a psychopath, darling." He smirked. "But I truly can’t believe you’d give this up all for the minuscule chance at love, the hopeless thing that got you where you are today."

You gasped. "I would’ve had true love if you hadn’t banished him away!"

Loki let out a humorless laugh. "You are so adorable, you know that?" You flinched as he got close enough now to place a hand on your damp cheek. You were practically forced to look in his eyes as he spoke. "That man was nothing but a spoiled brat and I refuse to believe you actually fell for his game."

You felt yourself crumbling down again. Way beneath him. "He… He was really…"

"Don’t you dare try to defend him, do you hear me?" Loki spat. That darkness was washing over but this time it felt like a storm you couldn’t escape. "I will not have my bride speak such niceties about another man."

"Your bride—,"

"While I’ve enjoyed this little midnight confessional, we have some good news to share with everyone, don’t we?"

You didn’t know what to do. What to think anymore. He wasn’t letting up. You were trapped. It was like the prison gate had shut behind you. You were stone-cold now, completely under his control. You were giving up in complete defeat. You could scream until you were blue in the face but you were running in circles. At least your daughter would know a home.

"Yes."

Loki’s face lit up. He removed his hands from you. "Fantastic," he said, heading back towards the palace. You helplessly followed beside him. He wrapped an arm around your waist and said, "Happy engagement, dear."