#that opinion is worth considering even if you won't always agree

[revvethasmythh]

ngl, "I'm the only one who understands [x] character" or "only ten people actually get [x] character" is like the #1 biggest red flag to me that a person probably will have an inaccurate interpretation of a character. because if you've decided that you understand that character in a uniquely objective way over others, you inherently wall yourself off from alternate opinions by deciding they're wrong on the basis of simply not being the exact same as yours. if you can't incorporate or even just ponder other people's perspectives, people who have lived different lives and are approaching the content through different but potentially very useful lenses, you might miss out on some extremely enlightening and fascinating interpretations. building yourself an insulated echo chamber is probably the worst thing you could do when assessing a character like that

#this is not about anything in specific it's just something i've been thinking about for a while #because I do see this kind of rhetoric come up more commonly than i'd like #like god even with veth i'd never say i understand her more than anyone else does. that's so stupid. and untrue #plenty of people probably understand her better than me even if just by a life experience that is more similar than anything i share w/her #when someone makes an inaccurate assessment of a character it is almost always because they've not actually taken the time to get it right #through interacting with and striving to understand what canon is saying #someone who actually puts in the energy and time to think and gather legit evidence for a thoughtful opinion? #that opinion is worth considering even if you won't always agree #but someone who's just like ''i'm the only one who understands them'? they will rarely show you the receipts for why that is #anyway #just thoughts

[night-raven-tattler]

A second opinion - Resorting the Night Raven College students into different dorms

Summary: Based on their personal headcanons and this post made by @thoselethalarts, Mx Tattly took it upon themselves to sort the NRC students into dorms different than their own - just for fun! She'd appreciate your feedback and opinions, as he is no Magic Mirror, so feel free to add your imput!

Characters: First year notable students (Ace, Deuce, Jack, Epel, Ortho and Sebek)

Other parts of the series: Second year notable students, Third year notable students

Warnings: none

By opening the document, you agree to Mx Tattly's terms of source confidentiality.

-ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

A good fit for Heartslabyul's strict environment would be Sebek!

He is a boy with a very strong code of conduct that he follows religiously. Sebek is very strict with himself and follows his personal rules and daily routine with no exception. He puts a lot of value in the importance of rules and authority figures to maintain peace and order, since it's the only thing he knows: as a hopefully royal guard to be, Sebek believes in his liege first and in himself second. And, as a guard, he is very protective.

Sebek believes his way of thinking is the correct one and has no shame in trying to instill his views on others. He considers that he is doing what's right for his liege and the world, and no one can convince him otherwise. He'd make a good card soldier, maybe a spade suit or a heart suit.

『••✎••』

Deuce would make a good candidate for Savanaclaw.

He has an ironclad willpower and determination in spades (pun intended), which are his main driving forces in life. He is determined to become a honor student and to right all the wrongs he's ever done, a resolution he clings to harder and harder with every day.

Deuce is gutsy, and when push comes to shoves he is ready to fight back. He has a strong sense of loyalty, and he is willing to do anything for the ones he considers part of his "gang". He is a dedicated friend and family member and believes in payback, especially when he has been wronged in some way.

『••✎••』

Another good candidate for the Savanaclaw student spot is Epel!

His initial wish to be sorted in Savanaclaw was not random. Epel has the (in)famous Savanaclaw willpower and determination. Epel knows what he wants -he wants to be a strong mage who can help Harveston thrive- and his pride for his community is unwavering. He knows how hard he needs to fight and he is willing to work himself to the bone when needed.

Epel also is somewhat of an idealist, and he has big dreams for himself. From being a great mage to someone his whole hometown will be proud of, Epel strives to be this amazing, reliable figure worth of respect and who doesn't deserve belittling. He won't back down from any fight, even if he has to throw the first punch, and he gets back up even after losing.

『••✎••』

Ace would fit well in Scarabia.

He is a clever and cunning boy, who knows when to be straightfoward and when to be sneaky. From facing his own housewarden to pretending to ask Leona a smart question in order to not be used a bait, Ace is intelligent and can read situations very well, skills he uses to his advantage. He is also not above playing roles and feigning innocence if the end goal appeals to him.

Ace is resourceful, playful and knows what to say in a moment of need, making him very adaptable to any situation. Despite still getting into trouble, he insists it is part of his calculated risk. He is good at math, but sometimes you gotta make sacrifices (re: get put on cleaning duty) for a good outcome (re: a nap at the back of the class).

『••✎••』

Pomefiore is a dorm whose values Jack would resonate with.

Jack is a boy who strives to improve himself in every area he can. Academics, sports, even with his hobbies, he always strives to become smarter, faster, wiser, better. Self improvement is his main driving force, and he loves knowing that he is improving, since he knows very well just how hard he is working to achieve his best self.

Generally speaking, Jack is very self aware and knows what his skills and strong points are. He is self assured, meticulous and last but not least, aware of his potential, which he cultivates every day without fail.

『••✎••』

Another good pick for Pomefiore would be Ortho!

Ortho is, above all else, very proud of his own skills and achievements. He is the only humanoid with the ability to learn and feel, that's quite an achievement! Yet he is not satisfied, as he knows technology (him included) will always have space for improvement. From making and maintaining his gears to joining clubs to extend his knowledge on human reactions, Ortho wants to become even better, and he is an unstoppable force.

Being a Shroud, Ortho comes with his own eccenticities, like calling everyone by their full names and considering using powerful lasers as a solution for most of his problems. Maybe it's because he's an android, but Ortho can get quite reckless and engage in risky behavior.

『••✎••』

#twisted wonderland #twst #ace trappola #deuce spade #jack howl #epel felmier #ortho shroud #sebek zigvolt #tattler's student files

[gabessquishytum]

That ask of dream having to work the summer at one of his family's resorts and being perved on by hob is so delicious to me. But consider: hob is very rich and powerful, yes. But nowhere NEAR the level of the Endless family and would probably never have even talked to the cute shy waiter who had no idea what he was doing if he knew who dream was. Dream knows this. He really considers telling his supervisor about hob bc it would be taken care of by dinner but he kinda likes the attention... hes always thought people only talked to him bc his family name but here hob is catcalling him across the pool and laughing at him when it makes dream spill his tray of drinks. Hob has no idea how this kid got THIS particular job but hes very glad he decided on extending his stay and might do so again:) hob is constantly demanding dream as his server and tucks his more than generous tips in the band of dreams tiny shorts before sending him off again with a slap to his ass. Hob is mostly playing chicken when he tells dream change into his swimsuit and let hob teach him to swim but dream AGREES and returns in the rarely chosen uniform one piece suit and hob can finally see his little tits cupped by something tighter than the sadly shapeless uniform polo. Hob "accidentally" sends it off to laundry forcing him to remain shivering in his swimsuit and dream knows thats a lie but hob calls him pretty and offers him a drink in apology. Then another, because dream deserves it for working so hard. He cant say no when hob tells him hes going to a yacht party that evening as hobs guest instead of an employee. The last minute addition means theres not enough chairs at dinner but hob waves his protests away and pulls dream onto his lap, keeping him quiet with a glass of wine to his lips and his other hand up dreams dress. Dream is wasted as he walks back to his room with his shoes in hand, he figured he should leave when hob got pulled into conversation when they got back. Hes frustrated because hob never made him come but theres another waiter dreams age whos hes sure has been giving him looks behind those shades and maybe Corinthian is capable of pleasuring him unlike hob :/ hob is pissed his arm candy left before he could get dream to beg for relief writhing on silk sheets but he does get to break rodrick burgess' nose for touching whats HIS and if his pretty boy thinks this was for moral reasons? Hey, hob is eager to accept dreams gratitude and dream rethinks his opinions about hobs sexual prowess when hes got dream moaning on his dick til sunrise.

-🔪

I'm sooooo thirsty about this au. I just love the idea of Hob teasing Dream until he's a little riled up mess, bless him. All those touches with those big warm hands have him aching, and maybe he shouldn't want it... but oh, he does. Its the fact that he could stop it at any time, that he technically has the power in the situation... but Hob doesn't know that. So Dream can really lose himself in his helpless slutty waiter fantasy.

When Hob finds Dream after the yacht party, they even have a little "fight" - Dream says that he's sick of Hob being gross, he's going to call Cori to take him to bed and report Hob for harassment tomorrow! And Hob is holding the hand that he used to punch Burgess and he's like "oh :((( OK I guess. You should know that Roderick won't bother you again by the way, I knocked him out." And Dream is like "oh? you defended my honour?"

And they fall into bed immediately. Hob tears Dream’s dress down the side seams and eats him out until he's thrashing and crying, the bedside lamp is on the floor, the sheets are soaked because Dream squirted everywhere. When he finally gets fucked he's just gushing, coming all over Hob’s dick as soon as its inside him, moaning until he's hoarse as Hob lifts him up and down with one hand. He's never had sex like this. Every slap on the arse, every lewd comment, its all worth it. Hob is some kind of sex-god disguised as a rich asshole.

They sleep in late next morning and Hob is like "won't you be in trouble for skipping work?" Dream just smiles and straddles Hob’s thighs for another go... And that's how Hob finds out that he's been perving on the prized third son of the Endless family...

#🔪 anon #the sandman #dreamling #nsft #cw age gap

[half-blood-community]

Hot Take Discussions

Hi demigod and half-blood homies! It's Praetor Rose here with Hot Take Discussions, where every Wednesday a new Riordanverse Hot Topic will be released. Give your thoughts in the comments or through reblogs!

Just because this is your PJO opinions doesn't mean there aren't any rules, even Chiron has his limits. You will be expected to abide said rules at all times.

Keep it kind. These topics don't have objectively correct answers, and the people who oppose your opinion likely can't be budged on theirs, but you can explain to them why you think yours is the best. Personal attacks and aggressive behavior towards your fellow demigods will not be tolerated. If you feel like you're being targeted by unkind behavior, please Iris Message the moderators by tagging @half-blood-community

No racism/misogyny/homophobia/ableism/etc. will be tolerated. This falls under the umbrella of "keep it kind," but is worth reiterating. None of the debate topics are related to human rights issues per se, but some may be perceived as adjacent to these issues, so it's important to keep things respectful. Therefore, responses such as "I don't like Character A because they are LGBT-identifying" or "I don't like Actor B playing Character C because that's not how they look in the books" are unacceptable, as they do not facilitate a safe space for debate. The Riordanverse is a place that was made to represent and empower those belonging to minority groups, not to put them down. Remember, someone's identity is never debatable!

Explain your opinions! You're not being graded on this, but it's helpful to everyone if you explain why your answer is what it is. That way, it leaves an open-ended space for someone to reply to you. For example, if the debate topic asks, "Is The Lightning Thief a good book?" don't just say "yes." Tell us why you think it's a good book!

Give spoiler alerts. By this point, everyone knows who the lightning thief is, but not everyone has gotten to read the newest Riordanverse books, so if you think your response includes a major spoiler, it might be best to start with "Chalice of the Gods spoilers ahead!"

Dead debates may be awoken with Happy Meals. Any and all past debates are still considered "active" so if you didn't have anything to say about a topic from a while ago, but you do now, or if you're new around here, feel free to start it up again! We'd love to hear from you!

Iris Message the moderators if you need any support. If you feel like the debate is getting out of hand or becoming too aggressive, send an Iris Message to the moderators by tagging @half-blood-community and one of us will be there to de-escalate and/or offer support.

Oh, Fleecy, do us a solid. Please follow our PJO community, or reblog this post. Trust us, you won't want to miss out on any of the topics. Maybe the first one won't spark your interest, but that doesn't mean future ones won't! We also appreciate any likes you might be willing to give; numbers boost our views.

Yes, and... Afraid of confrontation? Maybe you're not ready to directly disagree with someone just yet, but did you know that agreeing with someone is always a viable option in a debate? Let's say someone says, "Yes, The Lightning Thief is a great book because it has the original trio in it" and you agree with that statement. What you can do is expand upon that idea by replying to that person. Say something along the lines of "I agree with you because it has platonic Percabeth and I love the way their friendship develops. My favorite part is when..." Bam. You just participated.

Respond to someone! Get the conversation started by responding directly to someone else's comment instead of just shouting into a void. Remember, you can agree or disagree with that person!

Don't be afraid to ask follow-up questions! Maybe someone responded to the prompt with "I don't like The Lightning Thief because I don't like Grover." That's a hot take. Ask them why they don't like Grover, and explain why you do.

Break the ice! So, you're early. Nobody has responded to the prompt yet. Maybe everyone else is just as nervous as you are, but you have the power here to steer the conversation in whatever direction you want! To reference our ongoing example, now you can explain what you did or didn't like about The Lightning Thief. Want to talk about how much you like Grover? Want to talk about how Procrustes is actually a good character and how much you love waterbeds? The floor is yours!

Start a new thread. Okay, so maybe the first person who replied wants to talk about Crusty and how awesome his waterbeds are, and that's just not your cup of tea. Maybe you're really excited to talk about Nancy Bobofit and how she was robbed of the chance to develop as a character. Start a new comment thread and invite people to reply!

Tag your friends! Maybe the conversation is really dry and a tumbleweed just flew across the comment section, but you know someone who would really love to talk about Crusty and his waterbeds with you. Let them know you're thinking of them by tagging them!

Play devil's advocate. Maybe the debate isn't really a debate, and it's just a bunch of people shouting into a void about how great The Lightning Thief is. You're craving a little spice. Sure, you might agree with them, but if you really want to see some debate, think of what a naysayer might say. Try commenting something like, "While I agree with the majority's opinion, it might be interesting to consider that someone might not like the expository nature of the book" or "I saw someone on Tumblr say they didn't like The Lightning Thief because they hate waterbeds. What do you guys think about that?"

DON'T FORGET TO HAVE FUN AND LET US KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!

if you have any Hot Topics you'd like us to cover give us a message! We'd love to hear it!

Here's a link to the most recent Hot Topic Discussion: https://www.tumblr.com/half-blood-community/750579837794648064/hot-topic-discussions-may-15th-2024?source=share

MAIN POST: https://www.tumblr.com/half-blood-community/750311211309088768/hi-half-blood-homies-this-is-your-online-demigod?source=share

#heroes of olympus #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo hoo toa #trails of apollo #percy jackson #pjo fandom #pjo series #hot take #join us #half-blood-community #rules

[noisytenant]

this is always the case for me but i am sensitive and feel sad and disappointed being reminded of willfully ignorant people In This World. even if it's over a relatively "small" thing or is framed as a joke I dislike it.

perhaps it's a matter of curating my follows better to avoid this brand of posting, but i dislike when the Weekly Discourse Topic devolves varyingly into making examples of, mocking, condescending, and earnestly trying to guide people who demonstrate an utter unwillingness to engage with things thoughtfully. I don't feel like these people are worth any of our time.

obviously there's space for venting frustrations, space for reaffirming your values and sharing in them with others, and space for trying to change minds, but i think there's a point past which you're no longer really accomplishing anything. i feel like you could take a look around you at the people who you consider friends--or even acquaintances--and find so many people who understand and agree with you, who won't expose you to the most dogshit takes imaginable unprompted. why not invest time there?

one's followers generally self-select for aligned interests, with room for error, so i like to operate on the optimistic assumption that most of the people following me aren't going to hold egregiously stupid opinions, and if they do it doesn't have to be my problem. perhaps this is all coming from a place of privilege, but i also think that limiting your exposure to dogshit Opinions online allows you to devote time to dealing with those opinions and their consequences in the real world. basically, your time is worth protecting, also i hate seeing stupid post

#indexed post

[nothorses]

in regards to your post abt the word queer, if youre willing, whats your opinion on the idea that queer and lgbt+ is not inherently the same? like for me, i consider them different bc to me being queer is not just an identity its also a choice, an ideology, a stance, a movement.

Its choosing to say "no fuck you we're here, we're queer", its choosing to be inclusive, its choosing to actually be in community and help other queers, its choosing to be true to yourself, etc. So when I say 'the queer community' Im usually not referring to the 'queer is a slur' ppl bc I dont consider myself in community with them.

But after reading your post im wondering if i should reconsider my stance on this, so if you have any insight or thoughts abt it id love to hear them! Thank you :)

I mean, I think the word has a lot of uses and meanings, and that's certainly one of them.

But it's contextual, right? When I take a "queer studies" class, I'm not taking a class in the intracommunity movement of radically inclusive queerness- I'm taking a class about the history of the whole community, and the theory our existence necessitates.

I don't really want this to be relabled "lgbt studies" or whatever. I don't want the academic community to dance around it; the overarching department that contains the "sexuality and queer studies" certificate program at my school (which itself does not mention queerness or even gender in any fucking description) is called "gender, women, and sexuality studies". And guess what! It too does not mention trans people in anything except class names/descriptions for explicitly and exclusively trans-centric classes.

Point being that this "dancing around it"-type attitude, even in my extremely queer-inclusive area and school, more than anything just leads to the exclusion and de-prioritization of certain queer people.

I don't want them to keep doing that. And I don't think drawing lines between the Real Queers and the Assimilationist LGBTs is worth that, or even remotely helpful in the first place.

You don't have to exclusively be in community with the people who already agree with you; if anything, that's kind of what's leading to a lot of these problems in the first place. You should obviously be able to engage with people on your own terms too, and you shouldn't necessarily try to reach people who obviously won't be reached by you.

But like, "they're not REALLY part of my community" doesn't lead to much except further division in the wider community. At a certain point, you're just dismissing any opportunities and obligations you have to improve your community in the first place.

And do we really want them to be saying that us dirty queers aren't a part of their pure LGBT (or LGB) community? Should we promote the idea of separate "Queer" and "LGBT" communities, which do not intersect and which are only and exclusively referred by one word or the other? Should we have separate "queer studies" and "LGBT studies", separate research, studies and statistics, separate nonprofit organizations and movements and Pride events?

There are, and always will be, ideological divisions and movements within our community. There will always be sub-communities, chosen and otherwise, within layers and layers of other sub-communities.

But we need to be able to distinguish between that, and the words we use to refer to the whole community together- even the people who try not to be a part of it, and even the people who try to force others out. Even the lesbian separatists and the truscum and the "Drop the T" people; they're still gay or trans or whatever else. If anything, their existence is an indication that something is wrong and needs fixing in our community; that we have work to do to improve it.

My point is just that both meanings can exist, and that's important. You can be part of The Queer Community as an ideological, intracommunity movement that excludes certain conflicting ideologies (I certainly am!); and you can also acknowledge that at the end of the day, the wider community is also your community, and you have as many obligations to it as it has to you.

#trying to be nuanced about this but it's hard to get this all across right #I just want to emphasize that like. even if you dont like or agree with people you might be and are still in community with them #even if its just by virtue of a shared identity or experience #thats kinda just how communities work! everywhere and in everything! #being a citizen in any society or community means participating and it means conflict and it means discomfort #and it means there will be and MUST be a diversity of viewpoints to challenge and be challenged by #its hard and it sucks and it's necessary and it's what makes a diverse & functional & sustainable community

[anderscim]

@eventide-roses asked:

I would like to drop in something that has been.....kinda bugging me??? Not really bugging, but idk if you can even make a theory off of it. It's more Xanvid inclined anyway (and ig Teruvid if you squint really hard), but it's something that I found kinda interesting imo

Ask yourself this. How much screentime did David even have before chapter 2? I find it odd (my brother and I joke about him being the "Levi" of chapter 1 - having very little screentime) that he wasn't on screen for.....really most of chapter's 1 daily life, except for when he intervened Teruko and Xander's conversation in the dining hall (where he went on about how there is so much pressure on his shoulders from being looked up to a lot). Keep in mind Teruko knows his optimistic facade is merely an act. Lots of ppl (included myself) think that David only intervened cause he was watching Xander and Teruko, cautious cause one person knew something that they shouldn't have. But that also sounds a little too cautious, wouldn't you say? Sure, as an inspirational speaker, you are expected to be always happy and cheerful, seeing the world through rose tinted glasses. But surely, as a human being, you are also not immune to being sad. His slip up in the introduction just sounded like an introvert to me. Maybe a bit of a bitchy introvert, but not......something worth total contempt from someone. Yet, David is paranoid enough to keep to himself for the majority of chapter 1 and (most likely) just watched Teruko and Xander's interactions carefully. Why would he do this? Obviously he doesn't want anyone else to know about how his facade is just....well, a facade. But it honestly seems like he genuinely values Xander's opinion about him. He doesn't want anything negative to smear Xander's opinion about him. And keep in mind, ever since the killing game was announced, David (most likely) automatically went in his head "Well, it's only a matter before we all die" yet he still desperately tries to keep up his happy go lucky facade, even when he knows he could die the very next day

I found it kinda odd he never really played a big part until after chapter 2, episode 4 where he became the so called 'leader' and started the plan to share secrets again. But wasn't this also after the end of the first trial where he says "I lost hope, I won't bother to keep it up anymore, we are all going to die here" <- paraphrasing rn, don't kill me. And yet he STILL tries to keep up the persona. I remember one blog made a post about how David's plan was actually better than what the cast could've done (sit around the let the motives be revealed or reveal them without permission) which I agree with. But then it backfired and everyone started to gain up on David during the trial. I think the straw that broke the camel's back was when Teruko said David has been faking not only his personality, but also being a good person. Like damn girl, you think he's a bad person just cause you caught him saying a few negative things to himself? It fits with her character of not trusting people, but still. All that was revealed about his 'true true' personality was that he was some mildly bitchy introvert that wanted to sleep in I have no idea where I am going with this, but these are some findings that I thought was interesting enough to share with you (hopefully I'm sending it to the right blog as well). I guess what I'm trying to say is not only does David truly care about Xander, but possibly everyone else in the cast (he probably even had some respect for Teruko, until Xander died, which is a whole other can of worms, but I also think he blames her for Xander's death and her secret he received in chapter 2 only verifies his belief) And (this is also an extremely long stretch but also worth considering) the gag comic that the dev made I think? 2021 ish? Where David received too many letters and he was worried how he would get through all of them? It wasn't even his idea to throw them out, it was Whit's (to which, David even asked him isn't that a little mean?). It shows that David still cares about his fans (again, it's a really big stretch, but still has the character's canon personalities, since the dev themself made it)

first off, thank you for the submission lexi! i hope you don’t mind that i transferred your ask to this blog ^^

and yeah, i noticed these things too, but in my opinion it may mostly be an indication that david is adamant about maintaining his persona and what the cast expects from him.

(take this with a grain of salt)

despite his (at the very least) pessimistic dialogue at the end of chapter one, i think he tries to consistently keep the “ideal image” that the rest of the cast expects from him as the ultimate inspirational speaker—leading the group, presenting that entire plan (despite likely making it up on the spot), etc—in the beginning of chapter two. similar to what you said, i think it’s a very interesting contradiction to have david act so pessimistic and say that they’re “all certainly going to die here,” and then suddenly find him within the next few days leading the group and doing everything he possibly could to keep his plan going. like i mentioned in this older post, david’s plan was likely better than any of the alternatives—and based on the fact he could potentially convince everyone to follow a separate path from what he outlined in ch2 ep4, it’s likely that he wasn’t actually attempting to “foster the right atmosphere for murder to occur,” like he claimed in episode 11.

so if he was trying to help and prevent another murder despite the (very) limited means to do so—despite him clearly saying how they’re all going to die the chapter before—it might point to the fact that david is pressured by his own reputation to act in a way that is fitting for an inspirational speaker, regardless of all of his slip-ups from earlier. after all, david may have felt that it was wrong to watch all of the discourse happening in ch2 ep4 and not do something about it, especially since he has a career that literally helps other people for a living.

however, this internal(?) pressure could imply that he sets unrealistic expectations on himself to maintain that image—which might explain why, despite his slip-up in the prologue only showing us that he was more pessimistic and lazy than the cast expected, he was paranoid enough to check on xander and teruko. as implied from the MV and all of the secrets that it has, there’s a lot of evidence that points to david not feeling human (the dolls, the albino mouse / arabidopsis / footnote 2)—instead, he thinks of himself as a sort of “model organism” and someone who’s supposed to hold up an ideal for everyone else to follow. if this is true, this may explain why he felt cautious enough to go out of his way and monitor(?) the two people who may know something past his persona/reputation—true, it is only human to feel negative emotions and express them outwardly, but in david’s case he may hold incredibly high expectations for himself as a role model and pretend that he’s immune to those emotions. after all, he doesn’t feel like he’s human.

i also agree on the “he at the very least had an iota of respect for the rest of the cast at one point” part <-paraphrased. no specific evidence for this but i might get to it later

i hope you get what i mean. (-.-;) thank you again for the submission!

#bagel’s asks #bagel’s train of thought #drdt #danganronpa despair time #despair time #david chiem #fangan #fanganronpa #slightly shorter post #again thank you for the ask!

[sopebubbles]

Chapter Eight

Summary: How many men will it take to save you? To be honest, you've gotten pretty used to saving yourself. Even though you're far from a delicate thing, Los Angeles is a dangerous place you can't seem to escape no matter how hard you try. The top 7 members of Bangtan should never have crossed your path, but they soon find they'd do just about anything to help you escape your past and make it safe for you to stay. But will you?

Genre: mafia au, poly ot7, angst, some smut, honestly a lot more fluff than i expected, POC reader/oc

Warnings: language, mentions of potential violence, drinking, being drugged

Word count: 8.7K

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Hoseok frowned, but not out of sadness. His eyes were hard, an absolutely lethal look on such a handsome man.

"What's the matter, Hoseok?" Namjoon asked, sitting across the desk from him after spelling out his plan for you. Hoseok merely grunted in response, a refusal. "Speak your mind," Namjoon encouraged. Although he was the leader of the gang's Los Angeles operations, he was always careful to show respect to those close to him. Hoseok was only half a year older than him, after all, and they were peers except for all the privileges Namjoon has had in his life, of which Jung Hoseok had never known any. Any shred of deference to the man's opinion is entirely a courtesy on Namjoon's part, which, given his position, he has no obligation to extend. But Hoseok had done more for this organization than anyone will ever know, and Namjoon's respect for him knew no bounds. 

"Why are you going so easy on her?" Hoseok spoke in an even tone, and Seokjin turned to look at the leader for an answer. 

Those two had been together for years now. It was because of Seokjin that Hoseok was even in Los Angeles. Jin could just as easily be the leader of Bangtan. He had two years on Namjoon, who was his cousin. But Namjoon had grown up in this city, knew its inner workings better and had a grander vision for their operations. So even though he could have challenged for the top spot upon Namjoon's fathers death, he never considered it, more than happy to play second in command, especially when Namjoon's leadership proved to be collaborative. They rarely disagreed in ways that truly mattered.

"It's not about going easy on her. I only want to test her loyalty, not her life. It isn't worth putting her life in real danger before we even know what her true value is," Namjoon reasoned.

"Can't we assume enough about her loyalty from things with Taehyung?" Hoseok wondered. He still wasn't clear on the whole situation. Nothing you did made sense to him. 

Namjoon shook his head thoughtfully. "I don't think that has anything to do with loyalty. I think he frightens her, and she has to show she isn't afraid of him. It's her fight. I don't think it will impact her actions for us."

Hoseok scoffed.

"The point is, we won't know until we test her, and Namjoon is right. Her loyalty won't do us any good if we put her into a position to get herself killed. Let her earn our trust and when she finds out we're looking out for her wellbeing, she'll trust us. Things will solidify. All you have to do is drive the car," Seokjin reminded the subordinate. 

"Fine," Hoseok agreed. 

"Good. Go and let her know we'd like to speak with her. She should be in the gym with Jungkook."

Your eye hadn't swollen shut at least, so it was decided that you would be able to complete a mission tonight. Despite being a little sore from the previous day, you were up early in the gym with Kook. He managed to convince you to use gloves and train with mitts instead of hitting each other. He wouldn't admit it but you had left some bruises with your hits the day before. So he called out combinations as the two of you danced around the gym. He was exhausting you, but you refused to quit until he did. Then Hoseok came to your rescue. 

He stood silently, arms crossed over his chest, leaning against the door jam as you jabbed, ducked and pursued Jungkook through the room for several minutes. Finally, Jungkook gave you a break. You hadn't even seen the other man standing there until Jungkook straightened up and tapped your shoulder and nodded in his direction. 

"What's up, hyung?" Jungkook panted as he removed the mitts from his hand so he could grab a bottle of water. 

"Boss wants to see you," Hoseok said flatly, nodding in your direction.

"Okay," you managed as you tried to fill your lungs with air. Hoseok was momentarily distracted by the rise and fall of your glistening chest as you removed your boxing gloves. You didn't see it, but Jungkook certainly did, smirking to himself, a small laugh escaping that brought Hoseok's attention back. 

"Now," Hoseok said more sharply. 

"Ya voy," you mumbled as you grabbed a towel to wipe your sweat and a water bottle before walking toward the slim man.

Hoseok held out his hand, inviting you to go ahead of him, forcing you to squeeze past him through the doorway. You tried to pat yourself dry as you walked down the hallway toward the stairs. As he watched you walk in front of him, ponytail bouncing with each step, he noticed the end of a scar, an inch or two, peeking out from beneath the fabric of your tank top on your brown shoulder. He thinks about the way Taehyung mentioned your scars the other day when you were explaining your past. There must be more of them. He wondered how many, and how they might compare to his own. His hand lifted involuntarily, like he was going to touch it before he came to his senses and lowered the rebellious hand. He cleared his throat to shake off his own awkwardness and you turned around to recognize him, but he only stared at you blankly, so you turned back and walked up the stairs. His foolish eyes couldn't look anywhere but at your ass as he climbed ahead of him and he almost tripped on a couple of steps. 

When you finally arrived at Namjoon's office, he was the only one there. Seokjin was gone without you ever even knowing he had been there, on about his business as he always seemed to be, a bit aloof from the others in the few days of observation you'd had. When you entered Namjoon didn't sit, so neither did you or Hoseok. The latter stood between you and the door, creating the feeling of trapping you. His face told nothing, but Namjoon wasn't fond of Hoseok's methods for dealing with you; didn't like the way Hoseok was crowding you. 

He was making a show of testing you and proving your loyalty, but the truth was, Namjoon wanted to protect you, no questions asked. The only reason he didn't was because he knew how it would look, to you and to the others. He knew you would hate the claustrophobia of the kind of protection he was capable of offering you, and he knew that you would run. He couldn't treat you like something as delicate and precious as you were. The moment you'd entered his office the first time he knew you were more broken than you would ever admit. Your facade was a fine porcelain mask you'd glued back together so many times in so many places that the cracks had begun to look like the design rather than marks of tragedy. As if you were made to be broken. But you weren't, and Namjoon would like to see that nothing broke you again. 

Namjoon also knew what his men would see if he simply gave you all he wanted to. You had been Taehyung's woman. Not in the way the younger man had meant it, but in the way that would make it disrespectful for anyone else to provide for you. And even as you pushed Taehyung farther and farther out of the picture, the others might see him as weak or indecent if he moved too fast in his affections for you. He had to play it cool, even when he felt anything but. 

He certainly didn't feel cool when you walked in, skin still flushed from your exercise. But he hid it well. Even when you bowed the way Jungkook had taught you earlier, and he could see the depth of your cleavage, his features stayed perfectly schooled. 

"What do you need, boss?" You asked evenly, ignoring the way Hoseok standing behind you had your hackles up. 

Namjoon quirked an eyebrow at you. "Calling me boss already? When I haven't even given you a job?"

Your fingers twisted anxiously in the towel you were holding, and it didn't escape Namjoon's notice. Were you afraid he was about to toss you out?

"I just picked up on the fact that you all use titles a lot, and so it seemed wrong to address you as Namjoon, so…" You trailed off. Usually you were much more confident when you spoke to him. Even Hoseok could see from his position behind you how you shifted nervously on your feet. 

"You can call me by my name, Val," he said calmly. Namjoon wasn't overly concerned about formalities, as long as everyone behaved properly otherwise. Nevertheless, the fact that you were trying to observe their customs to the best of your ability, that little bow you did earlier, touched him in a way he didn't expect. It almost seemed like the kind of thing you'd do if you wanted to stay for a long time. But he was getting too far ahead of himself. "It just so happens that I do have a job for you."

At that you noticeably perked up. Your nervous tics stopped and your back straightened. "What do you need?"

"You said you were a thief, right?" 

You nodded. "I have some experience with things that aren't mine, yeah," you smirked. You never particularly liked stealing things for Joaquin, but if that was all you would have to do to prove yourself to Namjoon, then it was just too easy. 

"Good, because what I want you to take is something that belongs to me."

"What is it?"

Namjoon took one hand out of his pocket and waved you forward toward the desk between you. He slid a picture over the smooth surface for you to look at. You took a moment to look over the object in the photograph: a small statue, less than a foot tall. The longer you examined it the more sure Namjoon was that you had no idea what exactly you were looking at. It wasn't hard to guess with your biography that you had little interest in or knowledge of art. But you didn't need to in order to complete the mission. You just had to memorize what it looked like. 

"Do you know what this is?" Namjoon asked after a moment. 

"A statue?" It wasn't a wrong answer.

"Yes. A very old and valuable one. The Triads stole it from me, and I need you to get it back." Namjoon looked down his nose at you as you straightened up, looking up at him from the picture. 

"Just this one little statue?" Namjoon nodded his head. "Do you know where it is?"

"I believe it is in the home of one of their leaders. A greedy man with a taste for expensive art. He has a vast personal collection." Namjoon looked over your shoulder to Hoseok when he stretched his neck a certain way he always did when he was annoyed.

"When will we be able to strike?" You asked confidently.

"I know for a fact that he'll be out of the house tonight on business. You'll have a window of time. Hoseok will drive you, but you'll have to go in and complete the mission alone."

"What's the catch?" You smirked. 

"No catch," Namjoon answered, not missing Hoseok's eye roll. "Just get in, get the statue, and bring it back to me."

"What's security like? If this guy has a fucking at museum in his house, he must be guarding it, right?" Hoseok's eyebrows lifted, just slightly impressed you thought that through. 

"Nothing ostentatious. Just two armed guards. From what I've heard, your skills should get you through them just fine."

Namjoon leaned over to open a side drawer in his large desk and reached inside. "You'll be needing this." He handed you a brand new phone. "Yoongi said you lost your old one. You'll need this from now on for me to contact you."

He didn't let on that it would be a way to monitor you, though he didn't want it to come to that. Then again you weren't stupid. Namjoon really wanted to believe that you were here for the reasons you'd told all of them. He was sure you'd prove yourself. He hoped he wouldn't need a cell phone to communicate with you because you'd always be safe inside his home. But he knew that was a bit unrealistic. 

"Thanks," you murmured as you felt the weight of it in your hands. He watched as some unreadable thoughts crossed your mind before you turned to Hoseok. "Anything else?"

Hoseok's sharp eyes snapped to your face. "We leave at nine." He spoke so rigidly it seemed his hard set jaw didn't even move. And then he walked away without being dismissed by Namjoon

"Hoseok is…" the leader searched for the right words. 

"Happy to have me here. I know," you grumbled as you slid the phone into the pocket of your tight pants. 

"It isn't you. Bangtan is all Hoseok has. He's wary of outsiders. But I'm sure you'll gain his trust as you'll gain mine. He just needs time."

"Yeah, sure, trust," you repeated vaguely. 

Hoseok didn't even address you when you reached the bottom of the stairs. He scrutinized your outfit silently, not finding enough fault to bother criticizing you, but not impressed either. Your black jeans, black combat boots and black tank top under a black jacket might have been a little too on the nose of "I'm going to steal your shit" for his taste.

"What? You want me to wear a leather catsuit?" You snarked. Jungkook laughed through his nose. Hoseok's lip almost twitched with a smile. English wasn't either of your first languages, but you were still funny, and somehow that annoyed him. 

Without responding, he went for the door, leading you out to one of the sleek, black Genesis G70s they used for business. 

"Good luck, Val," Yoongi said softly. 

You pause with your hand on the door to give him a smile. "Thanks, oppa," you replied, grateful for his trust and support, even when you hadn't earned it. 

You took quick steps to catch up with Hoseok and get around to the passenger side of the car so he wouldn't have to wait for you and have one more reason to treat you like the most irritating person he'd ever met. 

He'd made you think for a few moments last night that he was open to knowing you, but today he'd put those feelings to bed. Namjoon was right. It wasn't your fault. He didn't trust outsiders. It was his job not to. And truth be told he didn't trust women. 

Not in like, he didn't trust women to do their jobs or he thought they were only good for sex. He didn't trust them anywhere near him. Hoseok was the definition of mommy issues, and that wasn't really his fault, but it was hardly yours either. Your recent actions with Taehyung only made him more wary of you, of your fecklessness and dependability. He'd found you amusing at first when he thought you'd only be on the periphery, a factor of Taehyung's life, not the whole gang. Now you seemed to threaten his whole life, and you were obnoxiously alluring while you did it. Even if half your face was mottled with purple-black bruises.

The car was silent as Hoseok drove down Santa Monica boulevard. He didn't play any music or say a word to you practically the whole way. If one of the others had taken you it would have been different. He'd noticed the easy, humorous rapport you'd already established with the maknae. No doubt you and Jungkook would be bantering happily if he were accompanying you on this mission. Had it been Taehyung obviously it would have been more tense, but he doubted it would be silent. Hoseok did nothing to put you at ease or boost your confidence, but it didn't seem like you needed it. If you were nervous, you hid it well. You simply watched the bright colorful lights pass by on the street outside under the tall palm trees, as if you were going to enjoy the late summer night at one of the many restaurants on the boulevard instead of going off to commit a crime in the home of a dangerous man. The fact it didn't unsettle you at all was itself a bit unsettling. Hoseok had seen your nervousness this afternoon. He'd seen fear in you the other day. Right now, you seemed perfectly at ease from what he could see in your body language and the discolored side of your face that was visible to him when he looked over at you without you knowing. He continued to say nothing until he brought the car to a stop in a wealthy neighborhood in Santa Monica. 

"The house is that one up there." Hoseok nodded up the street a few houses away. "You'll want to go in the back. You'll have to subdue the guards, but try not to kill anyone. Not in the mood to clean up your mess tonight."

"I haven't killed anyone," you reminded him. "Recently," you added, mumbling under your breath.

"Here." Hoseok disregarded your comments, holding out a small pistol to you.

"I don't need that." You sounded very sure yet also very nervous.

"Just in case," he shrugged.

"I don't want it."

"Just take it," he growled, pushing it further toward you. You stared at the weapon in his hand for a moment before you sighed heavily. You checked to make sure the safety was on before you slipped it into the back of your belt.

"Anything else?" You grumbled, looking away from him, pretending to just be scanning the street.

"Phone," he demanded with his thin, long hand held out, palm up. You fished it out of your pocket and handed it over. Hoseok began typing in his number when it appeared, pre-programmed into your device by Namjoon so you'd be able to contact any one of them if you needed to. Hoseok felt that was a bit presumptuous, but he squashed his inner voice, reminding himself that Namjoon was his leader and he owed him loyalty and trust in his judgement. He tried to swallow down that fact as he hit the call button, answering it on his own device before he handed yours back to you.

"Stay on the call, whatever you do, but don't speak to me unless you absolutely must. This shouldn't take you more than ten minutes."

"Sure. You done?"

"Yeah." His tone was equally exasperated as your own. 

"Lovely." You pushed open the car and got out without another look in his direction.

Hoseok watched you walk past the house he had parked in front of to the one he signaled, going casually, like you belonged here and not like someone about to break in. Luckily the street was fairly quiet and there was enough foliage and darkness to hide you. You turned a corner and he lost sight of you, only able to hear what you were doing from the phone inside your jacket pocket, but he was familiar enough with the surroundings to imagine where you were and what you were doing. He heard a quiet grunt and then feet on pavement, so he guessed you'd jumped over the gate leading to the front door. He hoped you'd take cover soon and felt better when he heard the rustling of leaves. You were being too loud and it irritated him to no end. He cursed you under his breath and then had to check to make sure he was on mute so you wouldn't hear him. At first when you went silent he was relieved—at least you had stopped making so much noise. But when one minute turned into two he started to feel anxious. He told himself it was just his desire to control the situation, to be doing it in your place instead of uselessly listening. You should be moving by now. It wasn't a requirement to pass this mission, but he expected you to be quick, like he would've been. His legs ached to take action. Suddenly you moved, more quietly this time. He could hear footsteps, but they were too heavy to be yours, so you must have found a guard. The sound of grunting and a strangled struggle confirmed his thoughts, and he wondered if you were choking the man from behind with your belt the way you did with the rope the other night, or if you were managing it with just your arms. A moment later, the sound of something heavy dropping to the ground and then nothing again. Half a minute passed with hardly any sound at all, and then the faint click of a door. 

You were inside. 

He listened closely, trying to pick up on your quiet footsteps and guess where you were in the house. Perhaps you looked around the foyer, the living room, got a peek inside the kitchen. For one solid minute he listened to you go from room to room directionlessly, making almost no sound at all, and while that was for the best it had him absolutely on edge. Then finally, the sound of your boots on the stairs, going down. 

Good girl. 

Maybe you took a lucky guess, maybe it was instincts, but either way you were heading in the right direction. He knew that downstairs was where the bulk of this man's art was stored, a personal museum built to his personal tastes. Rustling filled the speaker, like you are taking the phone out of your pocket, maybe to use as a flashlight. If you could remember what the object looked like he was sure you'd find it any second. Your footsteps stopped for a few seconds, and he heard a quiet, happy sigh. 

Eight minutes gone and your mission was half complete. You still had to get out and there was still one guard out there. Footsteps going up the stairs now, but not quite to freedom.

"Fuck," he heard you beathe when you reached the top of the stairs. Hoseok's hands twitched for the door handle to get out and go to you, but he controlled himself. More rustling and then utter silence until. Whack. The sound of the butt of Hoseok's pistol to the second guard's thick skull. Finally, homefree. Confident now, with two guards down, you strode triumphantly to the front door. He heard it open and then.

Slow clapping.

Honestly, Seokjin can be so dramatic sometimes, he thinks.

Your attempts at subtlety obviously went out the window as Hoseok hears you stumble back. 

"Oh, please, put the gun down, Val," he heard Jin's voice. "We both know you won't shoot me."

A beat and then: "So this is your house. This was all a set up? This whole trial is fake?"

"Namjoon thought it would be best if you were never in any actual danger. But don't worry, you completed your mission. I'm sure he'll be pleased with the way you've played his little game," Seokjin's voice was velvety, over the top, and it let his right hand man know that he wasn't impressed by this so-called trial either. But that was never the point, was it?

"Right. Well, I better get back then," your disembodied voice sounded equally irritated by the farce you'd been forced to act out. 

"Ah. Before you leave, that is mine."

You laughed. "Namjoon said the man who had this stole it from him. My guess is that neither of you are the rightful owner, but I'm going to give it to Namjoon regardless."

"Cmon, hand it over."

Whatever action the man made must have displeased you because the next thing Hoseok heard was the click of the hammer going into the ready position. 

"Move," you ordered. Hoseok had never heard you sound like that. Cold. Even. No shake, no fear, no doubt. Only confidence and complete command. He would kill to see the look on Jin's face. "Over there." Quiet sounds of movement coming from both of you. "Now close the door behind me and have a lovely evening, sir," you said as politely as you could. 

A few more seconds passed with only the scuff of your boots on the concrete, no longer making an attempt to move quietly, and then Hoseok's phone beeped when you hung up on him. 

A moment later, the passenger door opened and you dropped into the seat beside him, slamming the door behind you. Then, for one long, heavy minute the two of you just stared at each other.

"Well?" You asked finally, loud and irritated. Hoseok just raised his eyebrows at you. "I got this ugly ass statue. Drive, pendejo."

Hoseok couldn't stop the grin that cracked across his face, a soft, amused sound that wasn't quite a laugh escaping him as he shifted gears. 

Instead of getting back on Santa Monica he hopped on the I-10, heading for Koreatown while you stewed in your seat. You didn't let go of the statue the whole time he drove, just sat silently staring out the window. The twenty minutes of silence that passed wasn't awkward like it was before. You seemed to barely even notice he was there at all, even looking surprised when he brought the car to a complete stop in front of Club Seoul. 

When you realized you had arrived at your destination, you unbuckled your seatbelt mechanically. Hoseok reached out and took hold of the statue, but your grip remained firm and you hit him with a glare so black and steady he instantly removed it. He half expected you to release one of your strings of Spanish curses at him, but your jaw remained hard set. He swallowed the lump in his throat and turned to open the door. After depositing the park he'd given you, you did the same.

Hoseok led you into the club without so much as a glance at the bouncer. He skirted around the edges of the main room of the club, cutting a path through the aisle and avoiding the drunken bodies that pressed in on each other all around. The place was pretty crowded, especially for a Wednesday night, but Hoseok wasn't really the club type, maybe on a night with Seokjin and Namjoon in their private room, the loud music muffled and a couple bottles of soju. He typically only came here when he had to—which was still several times a week—and didn't stay longer than was necessary. Namjoon did most of his evening business here, keeping up the appearance of an involved club owner, as well as having fun on the night's he allowed himself to. It wasn't the only way Bangtan laundered money and put up an appearance of legitimacy, but it was Namjoon's favorite. He enjoyed the top shelf liquor and—unlike Hoseok—the girls who dressed themselves up for a bit of his attention. Most of all he loved being the king here, where others had to come and know they were on his turf. A little king of Koreatown. 

At this time of the evening Hoseok expected him to still be in his office, attending to business matters, so that's where he led you. There was a small hallway in the back corner of the club where there are two black metal doors on adjacent walls. One said 'EMERGENCY EXIT ONLY,' the other 'STAFF ONLY,' and between them in the corner stood a tall, broad Korean man. He looked at Hoseok for a fraction of a second before his eyes looked down on you and then back down the hallway. Just like with the bouncer, not a word or signal passed between them. In this world, Hoseok is universally known, and no questions are ever asked, not to him. If he's asking questions to you, chances are you're already good and properly fucked. He pushed open the door and moved quickly up the stairs, trusting you to stay with him without ever glancing back. The thick door fell shut with a loud bang and blocked out most of the music from the other side. Through the other door at the top of the staircase there was another guard. 

"Is the boss in?" Hoseok asked. 

"Yes, sir," the man replied and knocked on the door. 

"Come in," Namjoon's deep voice came from the other side. 

Hoseok gripped the handle and went in ahead of you, but you burst into the office like a raging bull.

"Oh good, you-"

"Am I some kind of fucking joke to you?" You interrupted, seething with anger. "What kind of fake, bullshit mission was that? What's with the goddamn training wheels?"

Namjoon held out a hand in your direction, eyes anxiously following the movement of your arm as you waved his precious piece of art through the air. "Woah, Val, calm down. Lets-"

"Cálmale a tu puta madre, Kim. No me voy a calmar! What was the fucking point of that?" You half shouted at him. 

Namjoon chuckled in spite of himself, his dimples showing as he looked down at his desk. It seemed your angry Spanish was amusing to all of them. He took a second to compose himself. 

"The point was that I wanted that statue," he told you simply. "Can I have it, please?" He asked, still eyeing you warily.

"Want your pinche statue?" You growled and made a move like you were ready to smash it against his desk. He held out his hands, as if to save it from your wrath like one would a child. You pushed out a frustrated sigh and set the statue in the center of his desk with deliberate care. "Have your pinche statue," you grumbled. Namjoon smiled and picked up the trophy, moving it to a shelf safely out of your reach. 

"Why did you send me on a fake mission?" You demanded again. 

He came around the desk to sit on the edge in front of you. Once again, Hoseok stood between you and the door, but this time he felt considerably less threatening.

"It wasn't a fake mission," Namjoon shrugged.

"It wasn't a real one either. You lied to me. Why?" 

"Why does it bother you?" He wanted to know, crossing his arms. Hoseok wondered why he looked so damn amused to be talking to you. He noticed the way his leader always looked at you like you were some kind of puzzle to solve, and he loved puzzles. With every look, Namjoon seemed like he was reassessing you, constantly adjusting the values of your strengths and weaknesses. That didn't go unnoticed by you either. 

"It's a lack of respect for you to treat me like a child. You all treat me like I'm a little girl, and I'm not. I guarantee you I've seen things just as horrible as each of you, handled situations just as dangerous. Stolen things more valuable and harder to get than that hunk of clay. There isn't anything you can throw at me that I can't handle." Your voice was less passionate now, but just as firm, if not more steady. 

Namjoon looked down at your feet for a moment. His jaw clenched, not out of anger, but the way it did when he was thinking, making a judgment. "You're right," he agreed. "But has it occurred to you that you shouldn't? That even if you've experienced such things in the past, some of us don't want you to experience them anymore?" 

You looked at him with wide eyes, expression unreadable, but a little bit of shock mixed in somewhere. 

"You don't-" you started, your voice shaky for the first time and you weren't exactly sure where you intended to go but it didn't matter because Namjoon cut you off. 

"You asked us for our protection, and I promised you that. I wanted to know if you would do what I said and follow through. I wanted to know if you would be loyal to me, even over Seokjin. I wouldn't put you in harm's way just to prove that, and I have no intention of using you again to fulfill any desire of mine or this organization. That's why I sent you on this bullshit mission."

Namjoon's eyes lit up with a sincerity so warm and intense you actually took half a step back without even realizing it. You looked almost softened by his words, but you looked in Hoseok's direction and caught him watching you with the same intensity Namjoon did and you made yourself rigid again. 

"Fine," you said, clipping the word. "Just don't underestimate me. Is there anything else?" 

Namjoon gave you an easy smile. "No, you're both done for tonight. See you tomorrow," he dismissed you, walking back around his desk.

You walked toward Hoseok like you couldn't stand to be in this room a second longer, and when you walked past him through the door he opened for you he could've sworn he saw a touch of red on your good cheek. You stomped into the hallway and toward the door to the stairs, pulling it open without waiting for Hoseok or even caring if he was following you, but of course he did.

"Val," he called your name from the top of the stairs when you'd already reached the middle landing. You stopped and turned, but only your bright eyes acknowledged him. "Wanna get a drink?"

You hesitated, so he traipsed down the steps to meet you. 

"Can't," you finally told him when he was standing right in front of you. "Taehyung is supposed to be here somewhere. He can't see us."

"There's a place across the street. It's quieter." He could see you hesitating, but for some reason he didn't want to let it go. "Just one drink. To celebrate your success."

You scoffed and turned to descend the rest of the stairs. "Sure, but you're buying. I spent all my money on a bus ticket to nowhere."

Hoseok didn't respond but hurried to catch up with you. Before you could take a left and go back through the main part of the club he tapped your shoulder and jerked his head toward the emergency exit, inviting you into the alley. He knew you were right, that Taehyung shouldn't see you, and you probably didn't want to see Taehyung dancing too close with some random girl. 

You followed him across the street and up a little ways to a pretty grungy looking bar, the kind that only locals come to and where no amount of cleaning can make the bar top feel less tacky—not unlike your own bar, but this one had a distinctly Korean flavor. It was predictably less busy on a Wednesday night. Some local radio station was playing on the speakers. You and Hoseok sat at the bar and he ordered two Korean beers you didn't recognize the name of. You studied the label while the two of you sat in a silence that was anything but companionable.

Even without the language barrier, Hoseok was a quiet man, even around his closest friends—unless they were drinking, like you'd seen last night. It was never easy for him to make conversation or friends, and he'd had no intention of making either with you. Until ten minutes ago he was hoping that somehow your business with them would be done soon and you'd be out of his bosses house, never to be seen again. But something about the way you spoke to Namjoon in his office had changed his opinion of you. Your determination to achieve their respect and your fearlessness—and at some level he wouldn't admit, you acting a little crazy when you're mad turned him on a bit. 

Several more minutes pass in which you both ignore each other. Hoseok got lost in his thoughts, trying to work out something to say. His English wasn't perfect. It was fine, he can be understood, but he never quite felt comfortable, even less able to make conversation in the foreign tongue than in his native one. But he brought you here and he knows he has to say something. 

(For your part, you only spent the first couple of minutes wondering why he wasn't talking before you fell into your own inner web of thoughts. Worry about tonight's job and your outburst at Namjoon, trying not to dwell on the things he said to you and what they meant. He wanted you to experience a different way of life, for you to be protected. But that wasn't really up to him, was it? This was your life, and it was one of violence and exploitation. There were only a couple of ways that could end, honestly. And as much as you wanted to kill Joaquin with your own two hands, you knew the reverse was more than twice as likely.)

When he finally gathered the courage to look at you it was clear you were just as lost to your thoughts as he was. The hard set of your jaw had returned, your lips pouted slightly in deep thought as your eyes fixated on the edges of the label on the beer bottle that your fingers were tearing to pieces. A small pile was beginning to form on the bar. Whatever you were thinking about was making you anxious, so he spoke up.

"Where were you going?" Hoseok's rough voice broke into your consciousness. 

You turned to him slowly. "Huh?"

"Your bus ticket. Where were you going?"

"Oh. Phoenix."

"Why?"

You shrugged as your fingers continued to shred the damp label. "Because it was leaving next, and as far as my money could take me and still be able to eat dinner."

"Oh, then you could have bought the beers," he smirked. You did him the favor of huffing a small laugh through your nose, shaking your head minimally.

"Why did you want to leave?" Hoseok asked and you gave him a look like he was crazy. You'd thought you'd made that perfectly clear. "I mean, why now? When you had Taehyung? Why not ask him first for protection?"

You sighed heavily. "Why is everyone acting like Taehyung has the ability to solve my problems? If you think that, then you don't know enough about–" you stopped short, and by the way you swallowed the lump in your throat Hoseok guessed you were avoiding saying Moreno's name. 

"But Taehyung loves you. He would've tried anything."

You scoff at that again. "Taehyung loved the person I made him believe I was. But I was faking it the whole time." Hoseok couldn't hide the look of disgust on his face at that, so you hurried on. "Not about my feelings for him–not exactly. More like, we fell in love like we were in some awfully cliche teen romance. I don't know. He was beautiful and so I pretended to be the kind of naive girl who a boy like that could fall for. And he pretended to be someone who wasn't dangerous. It was nice while it lasted, but it ended and in reality we could never fall in love."

You spoke with such certainty. Hoseok wasn't a sentimental guy, but even logically he couldn't seem to make sense of it. "But it seems like you'd be even better together now. A perfect match."

You blinked at him, as if he were missing something horribly obvious. "But Taehyung actually believes there's love out there. And maybe there is, but it's not with me."

"No?"

"No. There's no love for people who have been through what I've been through. Love was destroyed along with everything else." Your eyes fixed on the bottle in your hands again. It was empty and you scratched at the remnants of paper where it hung on to the glue.

"You feel like shots?" Hoseok asked, waving down the bartender. 

Hoseok knew exactly how you felt. He didn't know all that you went through, but he'd had most of himself destroyed at a young age too. He had been nearly hollow when Seokjin found him, a young man of sixteen who had never been treated like more than the dirt under someone's shoe. He didn't believe that love was some kind of all-conquering magic that could fix a person's life. It was Bangtan, not love, that made Hoseok someone important and respected, with a place and a purpose. But Seokjin had taught him that he was someone who could be loved, in the strange and complicated way that took shape for them. The question of worthiness was one Hoseok didn't dare to examine, but he knew that he was loved. He would always remember what it was like to feel like you did though.

"Absolutely."

"You like soju?" The bartender heard Hoseok's question and turned to grab the man's favorite bottle. 

"I don't know, but I'm not picky," you told him, watching as the man poured out four shots—because Hoseok never just took one. 

Hoseok picked up the first shot glass with his long, slender fingers and held it toward you. "Whoever made you believe you're unlovable can go fuck themselves," he told you before you took it from him, smiling for the first time since you left the house tonight. You looked at him dubiously but took the shot when he gestured for you to do so, taking his when yours was done. 

He thought he saw an argument forming on your lips but you bit it back. After a moment you gave him a question instead. 

"Who made you think you were unlovable?" You took the liberty of grabbing the next shot for yourself, but he didn't mind. 

Hoseok took his second shot too. He gestured to the bartender and filled his air with lungs before he turned his body toward you, resting his elbows against the back of the high bar chair and the edge of the bar.

"Have you ever been to a brothel, Val?"

Perhaps the alcohol was getting to him. Perhaps he thought it was only fair that you knew some of the darkness of his past as he knew yours. Your lips pull back with a huff of air, almost a laugh but not really. You tilt your head to look at him slanted. 

"Not fit for it. So I was spared that." 

He couldn't guess how sometimes you wished you had been, that the impersonal abuse of forced prostitution might destroy you less than the intensely personal torture you endured. There's no point in comparing abuse and trauma any more than the weight of one human soul against another. 

"Yeah, I wish I could say the same," he muttered gruffly. Your eyes widened at him. "Oh, no, not like that. I- I was born into a brothel. And if there's anything no one wants in a brothel it's a child, particularly a boy one. And if a child is unwelcome then an adolescent is strictly forbidden. Once I was too big to be shoved into a corner and hidden away, I had to go."

Hoseok watched your wheels turn, watched you try to tell yourself the story before he could, to see where this was headed, but he stopped you. 

"This wasn't Bangtan. Not even the international organization. This was in Seoul, a prominent gang there, but not as powerful as ours is now. Bangtan strictly does not operate in prostitution or anything that involves buying humans. I can promise you that. We may steal anything that's not nailed down and bring tools for the things that are. We might even sell some drugs that have the potential to ruin lives, but we don't buy and sell humans. I promise you that," Hoseok repeated, feeling like he needed to make that crystal clear to you. It might be the only halfway decent thing about them, but at least they had that. You swallowed and nodded your understanding so he could go on. 

"For years I bounced from home to home, from one hateful place to another. Never caused anything but trouble and received my fair share of beatings before I was onto the next. By the time I was fourteen, I was selling for the same gang, trying to scrape together the money to buy my mom's freedom, so we could finally be together. I didn't know how stupid or impossible that was then. She didn't want to be with me and even if she did they wouldn't have let her go.

"So I was in a heated argument with her pimp one night, and things got physical, both of us throwing punches until I pushed him into a brick wall and he hit his head, fell over, bleeding everywhere. I was freaked out. I'd never killed anyone back then, and it was really an accident. I had no idea that Seokjin was there, watching us from across the street. At first I thought he was from the same gang, one of the sons of the higher ups. He took me away. I thought he was going to kill me or at least punish me. But he got me away and drove me to a different part of the city. Said he was a member of Bangtan and if I joined them he would protect me from any retaliation by the other gang. So of course I did. He kept me by his side as his personal bodyguard and a year later he brought me here."

You pursed your lips, trying to understand why he was telling you this.

He continued as if he could read your mind. "My point is, everyone in Bangtan has scars, even the ones who seem perfect. And they don't care. Seokjin has never judged me for mine. He loves me regardless."

You shook your head at him. "My scars aren't like yours, Hoseok."

"It's just skin." He shrugged, using the same phrase that Taehyung had the first time you slept together. 

"You don't get it. Every scar I have was meant to be hated, meant to show anyone who saw them who gave them to me…who I belong to. To make sure I am someone who will never be loved."

Hoseok frowned. "They won't see it that way." If Namjoon saw the cracks in your makeup and found them beautiful, Hoseok could see it too. But deep down he wanted to find all of your broken spots and kiss them back together, because no one as strong and brave as you, who had survived all that you had, should be allowed to feel weak or vulnerable. 

"They?" You questioned, blinking at him.

Hoseok's ears went red and he reached for another shot glass. You weren't quite ready to believe that one man loved you. He shouldn't scare you by telling you just how many men in Bangtan you had under your spell.

"Tell me about your fighting days," he smiled before he tossed back another shot.

And you actually smiled back."I know you all don't believe me, but I was really fucking good," you grinned. "When I turned eighteen, Joaquin almost got me into a female MMA league. That's why he got me the fake tits. Said I needed to be camera ready," you laughed as you took a drink, the alcohol starting to affect you.

"Taehyung always wondered about that. He thought maybe you did porn." Hoseok must have been feeling it too because he couldn't take his eyes off then. 

You sputtered. "Don't stare at them,  sucio!"

Hoseok turned red and laughed. You continued to to drink together and tell him stories of fights you had been in. After a while, Hoseok could see your head begin to swim, your eyes getting glassy and drooping, your movements just a little too fluid and words slurred. He didn't think you'd had that much to drink, but everyone is different and maybe you'd already hit your limit. 

"You ready to go home?" He asked gently, and you nodded. "I'll go to the restroom and we can leave." He stood and drained his glass before setting it down clumsily and walking heavily to the bathroom. Maybe he'd had more than he thought, too. The bathroom door seemed to resist more than usual when he pushed it. His limbs felt so heavy as he went to the urinal to relieve himself. Maybe I'll take her back to the club and have someone take us home. Mm call Seokjin, he thought hazily.

It almost seemed like the bar room got darker when he emerged after washing his hands, maybe his eyes were just heavier. His face contorted in confusion when he got to the bar but you weren't there. He looked at the door just in time to see you going through it with two larger men. But it didn't look as if you were doing much of the walking when he noticed their hands around your arms and the lazy tilt of your head.

Hoseok's reflexes failed him and he began to think perhaps the two of you weren't just drinking alcohol tonight. He looked for the bartender, but he was nowhere in sight. There wasn't any time to look for him now, not when you'd just been taken. 

Stumbling out of the bar, Hoseok looked up and down the sidewalk, but he saw no sign of you or the men who had dragged you out. No suspicious cars. Only a steady flow of traffic both ways.

Fuck.

Hoseok walked across the street as fast as his lethargic limbs would take him up to the door of Club Seoul. As two giggling girls stumbled out of the club, he pushed his way in. The crowd had thinned and one of the bouncers was standing near the door, leaning lazily against the wall. He caught Hoseok by the elbow when he nearly crashed into the man. 

"Namjoon?" Hoseok asked hoarsely.

"He's up in his private room, Mr. Jung." Hoseok ignored the man's offers to help as he pushed himself toward the stairs and up to the second floor. When Hoseok pushed the door open without knocking Taehyung was with him, one girl to his left and another on his lap. Namjoon sat on another one of the plush couches in the red-walled room, Jungkook at his side with his hand on his thigh, having a quiet conversation. 

Hoseok fell to his knees in front of them, the five other people in the room looking on in amused surprise, smiles lubricated with alcohol. 

"It's my fault," Hoseok cried to the floor as he bowed his head to the carpet.

Namjoon stiffened, fingers clenching around Jungkook's leg. "What happened?"

Hoseok didn't lift his face from the ground. "They took her. Val is gone."

The three other men stood quickly, the girl in Taehyung's lap falling onto the other one with an indignant cry.

"What do you mean, Val is gone?" Taehyung demanded. 

"We were at Dae's and we were drinking. They must have slipped us something. We were going to go home. But when I came back from the bathroom they were taking her away and when I got outside they were gone," Hoseok explained breathlessly.

"Where would they take her?"

"Malibu," Jungkook answered miserably. "There's no way we'll catch up to them now, and we can't get to his house."

"She's on her own," Namjoon whispered. 

"Like hell she is. We've gotta do something!" Taehyung's rage rolled off him in waves and the two girls he'd already forgotten about clung to each other as they shared confused, bordering on frightened, looks.

"Jungkook is right. We need to go back home and regroup. Maybe Jimin will-"

"Hyung-" Tae whined angrily.

"I promised to protect her, Taehyung, and I will do my best. Right now we have to go." Namjoon walked forward to Hoseok and raised him up by his arms. "We'll get her back. It's not your fault."

Taehyung's eyes didn't seem to agree with his boss's words but he followed the other three out of the small room when Jungkook took on Hoseok's weight to help him out of the club.

"Yoongi's gonna fuckin kill you, hyung," Jungkook mumbled to him a they left.

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#beastie 🐾 #bts mafia au #bts fanfic #bts series #bts ot7 #namjoon x yn #seokjin x y/n #yoongi x y/n #hoseok x y/n #jimin x yn #taehyung x y/n #jungkook x y/n #reader is poc #bts hurt/comfort #bts angst #Fighter

[hollowingearth]

Hi I'm responding to your post about being confused at the hopeful lyrics of NPtK! Here are my thoughts:

Firstly, I'm not sure if I agree on heroes and promises being a bad thing in the world of ff7. From my perspective, they've never really been a bad thing, especially since the narrarive allows Cloud gets to become a hero and keep his promise to Tifa. Cloud carries her to a safe place during the Nibelheim incident and then stops Sephiroth. Not to mention he later helps Tifa out with Avalanche and defeats Sephiroth at the end of the game. Perhaps you have a different perspective but I always thought the game has been pretty receptive to the idea of heroes and promises, just that Cloud was kind of a false hero for a lot of the game. (In contrast, the true version of Cloud is a true hero.)

In addition, there was a tweet on Nojima's twitter recently stating that he imagined Aerith wrote the lyrics to appeal to a crowd and that she rewrote the lyrics a few times. Ergo, they are not her purest feelings put to paper. Now, this tidbit doesn't necessarily help this discussion much, but I do think it's worth considering that some of the lyrics could be prophetic in a way Aerith didn't intend. Perhaps she wrote some of them more innocently, unaware of the irony that's to come... (food for thought.)

Anyway I personally think Aerith has resigned herself to fate in the song but that she still can't help longing for something better. She sings: "if only id never known, all the burdens i was born to bear, lived a life without a care in the world save for you, but that won't do." I think this line is exactly what shows the inside of her tumultuous heart! Yes, she's resigned herself to her fate, but even when she's trying to share one last date with Cloud and pretend everything's fine she can't hide the sorrow on her face from the photographer. She longs for fate to change, she just knows it can't, or at least not as much as she'd like. I personally don't think these are really contradictory...? I can see how you might, though.

Err sorry if I missed the point of your post but I'll just send this anyway! I do think you've opened up an interesting discussion though. :)

Ok, first, it's genuinely such a nice thing of you to take time to write this, it made me so so happy. After I saw that NJM's tweet I think I started to understand it much more. You see, my initial interpretation of the lyrics were that Aerith is singing to Cloud to reassure him to not fret as they are sure to meet again, and that meeting would be in the lifestream, as all life is reunited upon death into one single thing. So there were no promises to keep because it was a given that they would meet as everyone dies eventually.

Now that NJM said he sort of imagined it as Aerith writing the song again and again. Honestly, I agree completely with your interpretation. I mean, isn't her song kind of like a prayer, in a way? For a better future to herself? Aerith in the OG is unaware of what is going to happen to her, she's fulfilling her duty, but Aerith in the R-Trilogy knows. She doesn't know her future but we see that she feels the danger that she's in, Nanaki warns Cloud about it and his connection to the lifestream is much weaker than hers (and I don't think she would fully divulge it to him either because Aerith is a bit of a secretive character). I believe she's aware of what's going to happen (even if she doesn't know when) and she chooses it, it's the ultimate sacrifice. I wonder just how scared she was to take every step foward with the increasing uneasiness of her upcoming doom.

It's just very heartbreaking. Specially so if the running time loop theory I've seen floating around is true, actually.

Oh, also, about the hero thing. I still maintain my opinion, actually, though I think I'd like to explain myself better a little bit haha. So, from my point of view, FF7 subverts the idea of a hero or the notion of the becoming of a hero, at least, and I don't think it paints it in a good light. I question the notion that Cloud becomes a hero by saving Tifa because he puts her on a safe spot and then, because of his rage, instead of running away with her (and actually making sure she was truly safe, Zangan is the one who does that) he goes back and kills Sephiroth. That action only makes Sephiroth stronger and allows Cloud (and Zack) to be captured and messed with. He effectively made things worse there. If only Zack was captured and he didn't have to care for Cloud maybe he would have survived. And then, again, when Zack saves Cloud he is uncerimoniously killed by Shinra - the very thing that allowed Zack to funnel his heroism into. And also, yes, the party defeats Sephiroth in the end but Holy is what stops the Meteor and even then, humanity still perishes in the future. People are saved due to the mercy of the lifestream, the recognition of the value of life.

I guess this sounds like what I'm saying is "don't have empathy/help others" haha but it's not it, I guess I just think the game is interested on questioning the reason for their actions and showing how much of it doesn't stem only from empathy but truly from selfishness and the want for recognition. That's what I think for now, at least.

#ff7 rebirth spoilers #final fantasy vii #no promises to keep

[ahmedmootaz]

Good evening! I've been pondering over a question about AiP since before my first ask, and have finally decided to ask! Throughout the story, the topic of "was it all worth it" seems to be a big question that Ayin continues to evade with "I don't know." (Classic Ayin) for a more straightforward question: If there was no other way to release the light, would Ayin still do LobCorp today, even if it meant hurting Angela? Also, what would Carmen's EGO be if she had one?

Dear hncdhnmfr,

Very, very interesting question. I suppose I could tell you to wait and see in AiP, but that simply won't do now. I'd be committing the same mistakes Ayin commits on a daily basis, heheh.

Well, put simply, the answer is: Yes.

But to see the circumstances of that yes, we need to delve a bit deeper into how it'll work. You see, Ayin was always a practical man, and he was less emotionally attached than most. If he were to choose between the lives of many and the lives of few, the needs of many would trump the needs of the few, and even with everything he learnt and went through, he would still consider that saving everyone else would be a worthwhile effort to sacrifice so much for.

Of course, this begs the question: What are the needs of the many? In my humble opinion, it's Carmen's message to the City, or at least the pre-corrupted version of it. For example, he wouldn't ever make Angela and the Librarians go through the pain they had to endure solely for saving Carmen, but if it meant releasing a pure version of the Light that had no side effects like the Distortion, then he would carefully consider the situation and see if there are no other options before searching for all the ways he can make such a plan less harmful to its participants.

But there's one very important aspect of that question: How he goes about implementing his plans. An important part of why Ayin's crimes are so striking isn't the plan itself. It's that the participants are, for the most part, unwilling or unaware. Sure, there's a case to be made about them becoming aware after recovering their memories post-Meltdown, but he still forced them all into the Script and its horrors, with Angela specifically suffering from the biggest burden amongst her peers with no love, encouragement, thanks, or even recognition. That's part of why Angela languished and suffered for so long; she gained not one shred of goodwill throughout her suffering in the Corporation. Ayin's misdeeds went further than the Script itself; he was too traumatised himself to recall that no everyone else was as traumatised as him. This led to him creating the Script as both a plan and a punishment to himself, although he also punished Angela, the Sephirahs and the Agents with it, even if inadvertently.

Hence, post-AiP Ayin would go through with the Seed of Light if there was no other plan to release the Light if, and only if, Angela and the Librarians agree to such a plan after thoroughly discussing it with them. In addition, it's entirely possible that he decides to modify the Script to avoid needless suffering and would inform everyone of the plan's minute details beforehand to avoid another cycle where the Manager has to navigate blindly without any help from those around him.

There's, of course, a point to be made about whether or not it'd be possible to consider it the same plan as the Seed of Light seeing how it'd be devoid of the torment and suffering that made it so iconic, and how it'd doubtlessly be finished much, much quicker given the better conditions it'd be in...but I'll leave that question for you, to answer.

Still, it's worth it to say that to Ayin, knowing that the original Seed of Light could've been done with so much less suffering had he not devised that plan when he was quite literally at the lowest point he could've ever been at during his life, would consider that any plan similar to it would simply not be worth it given that he would be able to create something much kinder with the people he cares about around him this time.

But for the original Seed of Light...I'd say he could consider that it was...mixed. He cannot say it was wholly worth it because of the inane and senseless costs of it and the subsequent formation of the Library and the trauma sustained by Carmen which led to her becoming the Distortion, but he cannot denounce it wholly, either, given that it did work as a last-ditch plan he formulated when, as said, he devised it the very bottom of the neigh-bottomless pit that had been his life at that point.

If you really pressed it, he'd have to begrudgingly say: "It was worth it solely, and only solely, because I could not formulate or devise any other plans at that time to germinate the Seed of Light."

As for the question about Carmen's potential E.G.O., well, here's my reasoning: Carmen's roles were never offensive, mostly supportive. Her original plan was never to attack the City and force it to reform, it was to help it bloom a better future for it and its denizens. Carmen's plans always revolved around letting people dream again and giving the people equal grounds to fight for their dreams and aspirations, which she intended to accomplish through E.G.O.

If she had an E.G.O., I'd say it'd be mostly centred around supporting those around her by preserving other E.G.O. and making sure it does not undergo corrosion of any sort, healing surrounding allies, and perhaps disabling any non-E.G.O. related enhancements like the ones Fixers use in order to 'even' the playing field. And just like her Distorted self Distorts people and lets their emotions consume them, her E.G.O. could help the Cityfolk attain their E.G.O.s while controlling their emotions and allowing them to become more selfless instead of selfish, like she currently does in LoR/Limbus.

Again, I deeply apologise for the delay in the answer! I know you told me you don't mind long delays, but even so, this one was TOO long. As always, it was a delight to see your ask, hncdhnmfr, and until the next time, be well, take care, and see ya'!

#lobotomy corporation #library of ruina #my writing #ask #ayin #angela

[hologramcowboy]

An Invite to Harmony...

Since my inbox is full of AAs tell me what I should or shouldn't be as a Jensen Ackles fan ("If you are Jensen fan this and that") and basically acting like fandom despots, here's a different point of view. I am aware that not everyone can celebrate diverse views and there are no "shoulds" in life, it's delusional to expect anyone to life according to your values, that's Your job. That being said, here's my healthy version of what being a Jensen fan "should" be:

If you're a Jensen fan then you should focus and enjoy what you love about him as long as it makes you feel good and detach from all the rest without dictating other people's experience.

If you're a Jensen fan that should never affect your well-being, self worth or self-esteem or ever have you feeling entitled to damage it in others because, if so, then it's an unhealthy, toxic obsession that will overshadow not only your thoughts and feelings but it will also encourage sociopathic behavior and overshadow your goals in life.

In other words, instead of fulfilling Your life, you will be out there "defending Jensen" in creepy ways while arguing with reality and trust me, there's nothing creepier to an Actor/Actress than an over-invested, obsessed fan. They may smile when you go to cons and tell them absurd things but deep inside they are either terrified or laughing at your lack of touch with reality.

No Actor loves people starting wars in their name because it directly affects their KLT factor (Know-Like-Trust). If you are meant to be a reflection of your favorite Actor (if that's even an ambition you have formed in life), then be professional and know how to exchange views with others, just as they do in real life without attacking or demeaning anyone.

Furthermore, instead of complaining about what others are posting (let's face it they are not going to sacrifice their expertise or preferences for you). I invite you to write your own posts and reviews with Your opinion about anything Jensen related and quit trying to exert yourself in someone else's experience by twisting everything they say simply because you are unable to process a different POV.

If you're a Jensen fan, then you have the power to curate your own feed instead of dictating what others can or cannot post. Jensen is an Actor, he doesn't love ANYONE limiting ANY sort of experience, part of his job is exploring ALL facets of a particular reality and doing so with empathy not spite or toxic hatred.

If you're a Jensen fan you love him as he is, instead of building him up into a Godlike image that he can never live up to and then complaining when people fail to perceive said image.

If you're a Jensen fan, share your love for him with like-minded people but do so without objectifying, degrading or minimizing him.

If you're a Jensen fan, you should probably be aware that tearing into his best friend in life won't earn you any brownie points. Jensen loves Jared and vice-versa and I often wonder why we can't build a fandom that is similar to their relationship.

So instead of sending me rude asks(which you can do if you want but they will be swiftly ignored as most of the time they lack even the most basic of critical thinking skills), I invite you to be a Jensen Ackles fan which should come with a high standard of behavior and perception and the same openness towards life and people he has. If you consider yourself like an "ambassador" that promotes Jensen, then do so ethically. Last but not least, sending infinite love to those who authentically love both Jensen and Jared and who embody the sense of harmony and beauty tried to convey as an option with this post. I love you. Please keep being who you are because you are beyond special.

Feel free to share this post if you agree.

Disclaimer: As always, this is just my view so please take what resonates and ignore the rest. Also, feel free to add your own notes to this, I'd love to know what others think on the topic.

#anti fanaticism #if you're a jensen fan #anti AAs #anti toxic fandom #jensen appreciation #an invite to harmony #jensen ackles #j2 appreciation #hologram cowboy #hologramcowboy

[rourhksapocolypse]

Alright, controversial post time.

One of my neighbors / roommates was talking to the other about current events and her position on them. Like Kendrick Lamar getting a Grammy and putting his face on an album with a diamond encrusted crown of thorns - which we agree is completely self absorbed and self aggrandizing because he's apparently rapping about rape and unrestrained violence, comparing himself to Jesus, who was a workman in workman's clothing and wore a plant crown of thorns (literally a gold star sticker but made of plant matter) on his deathbed because the Romans wanted to mock him as he left the world in slow agony - and pointing at Roe V Wade as a win for women's rights...

After a while of looking at how the world is crumbling, I left them to it, but it got me thinking.

I don't post about politics - too much to keep track of, too many lies and broken promises - and I don't want to be attacked where I come to socialize, but I wanted to post my opinions on two matters.

Abortion:

I can empathize with both sides, because the pro life is like "All Life is Precious!" Which I feel is true but then you have to consider Pro Abortion which is "Does she have the money or food to support the growing life within her? Is she a victim of rape of any kind? Would leaving the child to take its first breath ostracize her from her community or family? If it's against the law to do so, then will she get counseling for the new being, monetary support, anything but a legal yelling at for risking her life to prevent the added load with amateur efforts through medicines or punching her own stomach? Will the husband be available to, or even want to, support her?"

In the end... I'm in favor of legalized abortion, not penalizing it. It's her life, socially and medically, and taking that away... That's not ethical, I think.

Which brings us to a similar matter.

Gun Control

I mean, I do understand both sides, like before.

Stricter gun control prevents school shootings, things like the attempted gay bar massacre I heard about through Tumblr, massive amounts of gun related violence.

But it won't prevent gang violence. The black market exists, and so there will always be illegal things for sale. It won't prevent murders with bludgeons, which are everywhere and even built in to our species. It won't prevent the government from deciding its own laws are not worth respecting and enforce a dictatorship out of a democracy - in fact, it's written into the second amendment as one of the reasons why the right to bear arms exists within America. And if you remove the cities with the toughest laws on guns you move America's standing as one of the most violent countries down to bear the bottom of the pile, because the threat of a gun is a powerful preventative measure against physical violence like breaking someone in half with a perfectly legal baseball bat or a kitchen knife.

This is not a question of "Guns should / should not be legal". This is a question of "Can we make people honorable, responsible owners?"

...and that is not a question I can answer.

A responsible gun owner knows how to use their gun, keeps it stored away from children who do not understand - and maybe gives them that understanding and training - and only draws it to either ward off true danger or when that danger is a forgone conclusion.

...

Well, I'm depressed. Time for a distraction.

#gun control #abortion #controversial

[takadasaiko]

Against the Odds (a Start Wars Rebels fic)

Summary: A high-tension deal with Saw Gerrera's faction turns dangerous when Kallus recognizes the Lasat from Onderon and the Lasat recognizes him. Set in S4.

FFN II AO3

---

Against the Odds

"Are we really considering this? After what he did?" Ezra demanded. "He was going to leave those prisoners to die!" His gaze swept the small crowd of rebels that was being read in on the potential mission and it settled on Hera. Saw Gerrera had reached out just weeks after two of their own had nearly been stranded on a ship with an unsteady Kyber crystal ready to blow. He needed something: a missing piece of intel that he believed one of their Fulcrum agents had gotten ahold of before his people had. And he was right. One of Kallus' newly-recruited officers within the Imperial Navy had transmitted the intelligence just that morning. They had what Gerrera wanted, and he had something they desperately needed.

"Destroying the satellite helped, but we're still trying to recoup the supplies that we lost when the Empire was intercepting our transmissions," Hera said after a long moment. "I don't like handing Gerrera our intel to handle the mission as he sees fit, but it won't do us a lot of good if we can't fuel our ships or replace our hyperdrives that were damaged in battle."

"Or restock medical supplies," Sabine offered with a quiet wince. "Have you seen the supply room since we got in? Bacta isn't cheap."

Hera turned her green gaze towards their former ISB Agent that had actually seen the intel they were all discussing in abstract. If he had an opinion about the matter - and Alexsandr Kallus always seemed to have an opinion about a matter - he was keeping a tight lid on it. She finally caught his gaze. "What do you think?" He frowned at that and she waved off the argument before it could make its way into the open. "I'm not asking you to break confidence on the details, I'm asking if it's worth the trade."

He took a long moment, light brown eyes focusing on something beyond her as he pursed his lips together. She could practically see him sorting through what he could say, what he couldn't say, and what he didn't want to say.

Kanan shifted at Hera's side. "You already gave your recommendation, didn't you?"

"Yes."

Ezra barked a short, disbelieving sound. "And what was that?"

Kallus gave one quick glance at closed doors where the matter was being discussed after he had debriefed them and pulled in a breath, decision made. "That we do it. I have no love for Saw Gerrera and certainly not for his methods, but Captain Syndulla's right, as is Sabine. We're running dangerously low on equipment and supplies that could make or break this rebellion before open war is even declared. We need this, and if that means we have to bend so that we don't break, it's what needs to be done."

"And what's stoppin' 'im from from takin' what we've got and givin' nothin' back?" Zeb grumbled.

"Us," Kallus answered. "I volunteered to accompany the intel and verify that it's securely transferred, but I made mention that it wouldn't hurt to have a Jedi along to make sure there are no… hidden agendas."

Kanan gave an amused snort at the phrasing, but followed it with a nod of agreement.

"You'll need a ship," Hera pointed out.

"And a captain," Kallus agreed with a quirked eyebrow.

"Wouldn't hurt to have a weapons expert along," Sabine offered.

"And some backup," Zeb added.

Ezra heaved a sigh. "I guess that means we're all going then."

"Oh, I only put in recommendations for those four and Chopper," Kallus answered, his tone sounding genuinely startled, but there was a glint of mischief in his eye as Ezra balked at the meaning behind the words. He was teasing him and Ezra was falling for it. Well, good to know that Kallus was finally feeling comfortable enough in his new position in the Rebellion to be willing to give as good as he usually received from the teen.

"Ezra," Hera called out, stopping him mid-grumble about bringing plenty to the team, "he's giving you a hard time."

Blue eyes blinked owlishly and turned back to where Kallus leaned back against the holo-console, the mischief finally making it into the way his lips quirked up in an amused smirk. The teen sputtered one more time before shock eased into a devilish smirk of his own as if he was already plotting payback. "So that's how it is, huh? Just you wait. The Ghost gets real small when it comes to payback."

"If you can catch me unawares."

"Oh I will."

Kallus chuckled at that. "Well, that will only be if we get the greenlight to go. Until then…"

The doors to the room slid open as the words left his lips and all eyes turned to Mon Mothma, the stress of the decision showing in every line on her face. "And you have it. I want everybody in this room ready to make the delivery in an hour's time."

And just like that, all the mirth washed out of the room. It was time to put the teasing aside. Anything could happen when a mission crossed with Saw Gerrera and they needed to be ready.

---

Once the coordinates came in for the exchange, it had been a mad rush to get off-planet and push the Ghost to its limits to reach the location on time. Everyone had their part to play and there was something comforting in the gang being back together, even if they'd added a former adversary. Sabine hadn't spent much time with Kallus since she and the others had returned from Mandalore, despite his quarters being in the same suite as the rest of theirs. It had been Hera's request, she'd found out, when the dust had settled on Yavin IV following the battle of Atollon and more than half their crew had left to help her family. Kallus had been a former ISB agent surrounded by the Rebels he'd both previously hunted and now wanted to help, and it had just made sense to help ease him into his new role amongst at least semi-friendly faces. That was the story Sabine had heard at any rate. She thought the fact that Hera had always been partial to picking up strays was probably closer to the truth. She hadn't had a lot of time to spend with the Fulcrum agent, but at least Hera, Zeb, and Rex all vouched for him.

"Hera says we're coming out of hyperspace," the Mandalorian announced as she walked through the main living space, startling Zeb out of his snoozing state in the chair opposite of Kallus, who glanced up from where he looked like he was adding a layer of security to the intel they were delivering. He ejected a disk from the datapad, confirming her suspicion, and she took an empty seat, studying him. "Did you ever run across Gerrera when you worked for the Empire?"

"On Onderon," Kallus answered, his voice measuredly casual. "Right out of the academy."

"Figured you must have with the way you react to him."

Zeb straightened a bit at that. "He ever get a good look atcha?"

"No," the former ISB agent answered darkly. "He sent his people to do his dirty work."

Interesting. Sabine tilted her head, the question working it's way up her throat as they snapped out of hyperspace.

"It's fine," Kallus assured Zeb as if he knew exactly what he was thinking. "It'll be a quick in and out. Bit like Tattoine."

Zeb snorted, his ears twitching. "Tattoine was only a quick in an' out 'cause I made it a quick in an' out."

"You act like I had nothing to do with that."

"Sure ya did. You got us inta the mess."

That finally elicited a bit more reaction from the ginger man and he turned to face Zeb fully in what sounded like an argument that had been rehashed again and again since the event. "It was a simple plan. Even you could have followed it."

"So what was your excuse?" Zeb snapped back.

Sabine felt her ears pop a little, signaling that they were easing into their descent. "Someday, I want to hear this story in full, but for now do we have everything ready?"

And just like that the spat was put aside. "As ready as we can ever be with Gerrera," Kallus murmured and, after a quick flick on his datapad, he handed it over. "A full list of the supplies he offered in exchange for the intel. I expect you'd like to look it over?"

She took the tablet and scrolled through. "This is… generous."

"So's the intel. We'll have to schedule an extraction for my Fulcrum agent after months spent cultivating him in what should have been a much better position."

His Fulcrum agent. That was something that she was still getting used to. "And it's still worth it?"

"We ain't gonna use it," Zeb huffed and Kallus shot him a questioning look. He shrugged. "Mighta overheard something 'bout a location for a new star destroyer." He turned his attention back to Sabine, ignoring the way Kallus looked like he was trying to look simultaneously upset that his intelligence had been compromised - though by an ally, so how compromised was it really? - and impressed that the always conspicuous Lasat had managed to eavesdrop on it. "The brass's gotten a bit skittish after Atollon. 'Fraid to take the Empire on face-to-face."

"I'd noticed," Sabine murmured, handing the datapad back as they touched ground. She stood and the three of them moved to meet Hera, Kanan, Ezra, and Copper at the door.

Saw Gerrera stood waiting as the ramp unfolded, a knowing smirk of a man that thought he was getting the winning end of the bargain plastered on his face. At her side, Sabine saw Ezra tense ever so slightly, and she couldn't help by remember the prisoners that Saw had left for dead after destabilizing the Kyber crystal. She reached out, her fingers brushing his, and she heard him loose a breath.

Hera took the lead with Kanan by her side, and Sabine knew he saw more than any of them could hope to. Kallus followed behind them, and finally the rest of them filed out. Saw wasn't alone. He was surrounded by several figures, both alien and Human, including a Lasat that stood tall enough to make Zeb look short. The Lasat's yellow eyes skimmed the crew as Hera greeted Saw, stopping on what appeared to be Kallus and he loosed a vicious growl like nothing Sabine had heard before. Zeb took a protective step forward and it was only then that she saw the defensive stance Kallus had fallen into. He and the Lasat knew each other. That couldn't be good.

"Something wrong?" Hera prodded, her sharp green gaze taking in the suddenly tense situation.

"Not a thing. Is there, Zoddik?" Saw answered, the last words pointed at the angry, towering Lasat.

"No," he answered, voice deep and dangerous. "We may proceed."

There was another tense moment, then another before the three key figures of the tension eased back. Kallus cleared his throat, and what Sabine could only assume was a mask of indifference falling into place as he strode forward, extending the data disk. "You'll find the coordinates our people uncovered on this disk. I expect you'll want to take a look as we load the cargo?"

"Agent Kallus," Saw murmured, but it was anything but a greeting. "I'd heard that Mon Mothma's group had tamed an ISB agent. I hadn't heard it was you."

"I defected," Kallus countered, his shoulders squaring a little more.

"And how are they liking you? The man who made his name in the massacre on Lasan?"

Sabine wouldn't have bet that Kallus could draw himself any taller, but she would have been wrong.

"You'll find everything we promised on that disk," Hera said tightly.

Saw hummed quietly and extended his hand out. One of his followers handed over a datapad that he used to check the disk. After a long, agonizing moment, he nodded. "We have a deal, Captain Syndulla."

"Fantastic," Hera grumbled, starting towards the cargo containers. "Sabine? Let's take a look."

Okay. Saw was playing nice. They just had to get the equipment and supplies onboard the Ghost and they could call this one a win.

Not that things were ever that easy.

—-

Kallus had planned for more than one wrinkle in the mission, despite the tight turnaround. The one thing he hadn't planned for was the face that quite literally haunted his nightmares. The Lasat was just as large as he remembered him being, which for years now he'd chalked up to his concussed memory and horizontal state, but no. There he was with Saw Gerrera and, in that moment, he wasn't sure if he should go for his blaster or cover.

Neither, as it turned out.

The job went on, as so many he'd seen in his short tenure working directly with and with the Rebels. Here were mortal enemies: on one side the Lasat that had so viciously murdered downed soldier with nothing that resembled honour and, on the other, the former ISB agent that had given the verbal order to use the disruptor rifles on the Lasat people. In the middle was the exchange of intelligence and goods, all with the ultimate goal of destroying the Empire. How strange that they were mostly on the same side now.

Kallus walked Gerrera through the protocols he had put into place for their protection, Gerrera's team's protection, and that of his informant, which was something he reminded Gerrera of multiple times. He was still in the field. He was one of them. Kallus wouldn't let the wide-eyed new recruit become another body laid out on the thankless ground, eyes staring unseeing beyond the distance as the war marched on around them, trampling a life too young to lose in its wake. He wouldn't let Onderon be repeated.

Once he was at least mostly convinced of Gerrera's sincerity he moved off to the side where the crew of the Ghost was loading supplies. He gave the Lasat - Zoddik, apparently - a wide berth as he moved to where Zeb was having no trouble loading the supplies. "Need a hand?"

"Need an' excuse?" the Lasat that he never would have thought he'd call friend asked bluntly, his green-yellow eyes shifting from Kallus to Zoddik.

Kallus scrunched his nose at the insinuation that he should be trying to patch up things up with a being that his only experience with had been near-death. "Let's not tempt fate," he grumbled, grabbing at the handle for the container sitting between him and Zeb.

"You may know 'im from Onderon, but every Lasat left knows you from Lasan." Sometimes he was reminded that Zeb was more perceptive than he often let on. The purple Lasat snagged the container and hauled it up onto his broad shoulder. "Someone's gotta be civilized first off."

"Why does it have to be me?" Kallus grumbled, hating how childish it sounded even as he did. This wasn't about this particular Lasat, he didn't think. This was about a bigger picture for Zeb, though if it was if Kallus had found a single Lasat he was fond of or if a single Lasat was fond of the ISB agent that had wiped out the Lasat race, he couldn't be sure. Why it mattered with so few left, he certainly did know, but somewhere in the last year, what mattered to Zeb had started to matter to Kallus. Dank ferrik. This was a terrible idea.

He turned, steadying himself for the inevitably awkward attempt at… something. Explanation? No. There was no explanation. Apology? Also no. Zeb was one thing, but he didn't know this Lesat. He didn't even know if he'd been on Lasan. All he knew was that he'd massacred his first unit without a care.

That, and that he was gone.

Kallus turned towards the Ghost to call after Zeb, prove that it was out of his hands, but his friend was hauling the crate inside. Kanan was exiting, though, and with an expression on his half-covered face that sent chills up Kallus' spine. Something was wrong and the Jedi had picked up on it.

Suddenly, Kanan turned as if looking directly at him. "Kallus!"

This was about to go bad. Kallus' gaze swept the area and finally came to rest on Zoddik. He had just emerged from the makeshift structure they had used to store the crates, a weapon in hand. Not just any weapon. A T-7 Ion Disruptor Rifle.

This was about to go very bad.

Kallus leapt into action as the Lasat aimed the weapon, the shot hitting close to where he'd be standing seconds before. The former Imperial agent dove, tucked, and rolled behind cover as another shot hit a short stack of crates waiting to be loaded and he watched them melt in horror, disintegrating atom by atom. Karabast. He was starting to get the gist of that word.

He jumped again, this time reaching for his own weapon and looking back at where the crew had come to inspect the noise. The two Jedi had lightsabers in hand, the Mandalorian brandishing weapons and ready to defend the ship. Hera shouted something in the distance as Zeb exited the Ghost. He gave a shout as Kallus dodged again, his foot slipping as he did. He used the momentum to pivot, leveling his own blaster to take two shots. The first connected with the illegal rifle even if the second went wide. Zoddik howled in frustration and aimed the weapon as Kallus ran out of easy cover. The Human leapt, the Lasat shot, and the world tilted dangerously, throwing him off-balance and he stumbled into the next set of crates rather than behind. He heard Zeb shout his name behind him and his hand went to his side instinctively. It came away bloody and pain spiked.

It was overwhelming. All encompassing. Kallus heard himself crying out, but it was like it had come from someone else. His knees buckled and he hit the permacrete hard. The world pulsed around him, but he barely noticed. All there was was pain and, in that horrifying and agonizing moment, he understood this was how they'd all died on Lasan. This is how he'd killed them.

—-

It had gone from not great to terrible in the time it had taken to load a crate into the Ghost. All hell had broken loose. Shots fired, lightsabers humming, but it wasn't until Zeb stepped back out onto the ramp that he saw the extent of the terrible.

Saw Gerrera was nowhere to be seen as the fighting broke out, but some of his people had stayed to defend the Lasat that appeared to be the instigator. Karabast. Maybe he had asked Kallus to tempt fate by talking with him. Speaking of…

His gaze swept over the suddenly violent scene just in time to see Kallus take a couple shots at Gerrera's Lasat ally. One hit the rifle in his hand and it sparked dangerously, but it was the first hard look Zeb had taken of the weapon. Dread slammed into him as the opposing Lasat raised the weapon and shot even as Kallus was jumping at his next stack of crates for cover and the beam, usually so focused, splintered, sending the dangerous red bolt of energy in several directions.

One of which was at Kallus.

The Human had hit his knees by the time that Zeb cleared a path - sending Gerrera's people scattering into the distance and leaving their destruction behind - and was bent forward with one arm wrapped around his middle and the other desperately trying to keep himself from falling face-first into the ground. Zeb reached forward and grimaced as the man he'd come to call friend flinched away from him. "Easy, Kallus," he coaxed, not even sure he could hear him through what he knew had to be excruciating pain. "Easy does it."

Kallus' arm buckled under him and Zeb caught him, easing him to the ground and taking a seat next to him as Hera moved to his opposite side to check the wound. Zeb swallowed hard, trying to find the words to tell her it didn't matter. There was a reason those guns were banned. Kallus was already dead, his body just hadn't caught up to that fact.

"…. something we can do," Ezra was saying. "How much time do we have?" There was a beat of silence as he waited for someone to answer him, but it wasn't until the teen nudged Zeb's shoulder that he realized the question was directed at him.

"I dunno. Hours at most. Probably less. Maybe a whole lot less." His voice was shaking as bad as Kallus was and he couldn't help but think back to the day Lasan had fallen. He'd heard the screams and he'd seen the aftermath, but the disruptors hadn't been used in the palace, so he hadn't seen first hand how long it took for the blast to work an organic lifeform apart atom by atom.

"Zeb, can you hold him?" Hera asked, pulling him out of the memories that threatened to drag him under. Kallus was curled as tight as he could get on his injured side, making it impossible for her to get a good look at him.

With a shaky breath of his own, Zeb reached for him and, as gently as he could, pulled Kallus half into his lap. He couldn't tell if the contact helped or hurt, but even as his back arched from the pain and he reached blindly to clamp one hand down over the wound - Zeb carefully pulling it away and holding it there - the position gave Hera the opportunity to pull his jacket back and lift his shirt to assess the damage.

"It was damaged when it fired," Sabine said from somewhere behind them and Zeb picked up on the slight tinny sound of a weapon being turned over and thoroughly examined by the Mandelorian. "The shot scattered."

"You think that'll make a difference?" Ezra asked.

"Maybe," Hera answered and Zeb risked a look at where Kallus had gone stiller than before. His chest wasn't heaving quite as hard to pull in air - though the sound he made every time he breathed in wasn't what the Lasat would call comforting - and his back rested against Zeb's bent knee. He'd either passed out or was damned close to it.

"Keep an eye out," Kanan instructed as he circled around to join them on the ground. Zeb finally let his gaze drift down to where Hera was examining the wound. Scorched and black, the freckled and pale skin was badly damaged. He could see the way the damage stretched out further than a blaster bolt should have, but if the damage was spreading, it was a whole lot slower than he would have expected. Maybe they'd gotten lucky with the shot Kallus had clipped the rifle with.

Kanan reached out and Kallus jolted back to consciousness with wide eyes staring up towards the sky as the Jedi laid his palms against the wound. "I know," he murmured softly. "I'm sorry."

"Hey," Zeb called and slowly that golden-brown gaze lulled towards him. "Don' worry 'bout them."

"Not," Kallus gasped out. "Hurts."

"I know," the Lasat murmured sadly and Kallus' eyes focused a little more on him.

"Sorry," he managed to croak out. "Never said… how sorry…"

"Yeah, well, say it when this is done."

That pulled a rough, mirthless chuckle from the injured man. "Both know how this ends," he managed.

"Thought you'd learned a bit more 'bout hope, huh?" Zeb groused and looked to Kanan.

"It's spreading, but slowly. Much slower than I'd always heard."

"Then there's a chance," Hera agreed. "C'mon. Let's get him back to base. Kallus? We need to move you."

If he was going to argue, he swallowed it instead and offered a sharp nod. Zeb shifted under him, positioning one arm to brace his shoulders and the other under his knees, Kallus' jaw tightening as he did. It wasn't until Zeb stood, lifting him up with him, that a strangled scream escaped him and he went suddenly limp in the Lasat's arms.

But he was still breathing, and with life there was hope. That's what his friends had taught him, and kriff it all they were going to let Kallus go that easily.

—-

Years later, when he thought about the order that had come down from his commanding officer that the Empire would make an example of the Lasat people, Kallus would have liked to say he pushed back. Hells, he wished he could say he hesitated more than a fraction of a moment. But he couldn't. He didn't.

After the dust had settled and the handful of survivors had been scattered to the corners of the galaxy, Kallus had been called before the Imperial Senate to give testimony. It was rare, especially by then, for a ranking officer - especially a member of the Imperial Security Bureau - to be forced to answer to an elected body for his action. He'd stood before them with his back straight, shoulders squared, and what he could only imagine was a look of utter self righteousness as he gave his version of the story. These senators knew nothing of war. Nothing of the savageness of the Empire's enemy. They hadn't been laid out, bleeding out, and only able to watch as one of them moved steadily through the men and women they served with, snuffing out lives one by one. Kallus had served his Empire on Lasan. He'd done his duty.

"Do you know what the weapons your men used do to an organic life form?" Senator Mon Mothma had asked him. "They were designed to bring down ships. They pull a person apart atom by atom, ignite every nerve ending and pain receptor before disintegrating the victim. Does that sound like a soldier's duty, Agent?"

He'd said yes, she'd voted to have him court marshaled, and he'd received accommodations for his part in the battle. As Kallus floated in and out and around consciousness, every nerve ending on fire as his body broke down atom by atom, he wondered if she would find any satisfaction in the way he would meet his end. No, he didn't think so. She was a better person than he was.

There were moments when he was more aware than others. It was difficult. The closer he drew to consciousness, the more he felt the pain, and he'd be out again at some point. It was exhausting and he was losing his will to fight for those few moments of awareness.

With a shuddering breath, Kallus broke the surface into consciousness, the memory he'd watched play out again in his mind nipping at his heels, a reminder of how he'd gotten there. It didn't matter that Gerrera's Lasat had murdered his unit or that Kallus had desperately tried to make amends for all the things he'd done in the name of duty. He was writhing in pain because of the pain he'd caused. It was as simple as that.

"Kallus?" His gaze lulled sluggishly to his left to find Zeb leaning over his prone form, worry etched into his features. "How ya feelin'?"

Kallus snorted a response, pain lacing through him as he did. His fingers flexed at his side, grabbing hold of thin sheets and he squeezed his eyes shut again as he tried to breathe through the pain.

"What'd you do?" Ezra demanded from what sounded like the door.

"Nothin'! He just woke up is all. I didn' mean to —"

"I'm alright," Kallus rasped, reaching a hand out clumsily and finding Zeb's arm just in time for another wave of pain to hit. His nails dug into purple fur, but the Lasat didn't flinch. He just let him hang on until the pain became semi bearable again and his grip loosened. "Sorry," he managed.

"Not worried 'bout that," Zeb answered and his palm brushed across Kallus' forehead. "Kid, any word from Kanan?"

"He's still meditating. He's looking for a way to help."

"Lot o' good it'll do if he waits," the Lasat grumbled and Kallus couldn't help but see how worried he looked. He wasn't sure if it was endearing or a sign he should be more worried than he was. Probably the latter, but he didn't have the energy for it.

Without warning, it was like a Wookie had taken a seat on his chest. His breath hitched and he felt his throat constrict. That was a bad sign. He hadn't thought the damage had spread quite that far yet. Whatever the reason, he found himself choking and gagging and desperately trying to pull enough air in to satisfy his lungs.

"Karabast!" Zeb growled even as Kallus managed to turn to his side, curling into himself as he wheezed air in and coughed it back out.

"That… does not sound good," Ezra managed from his place and Kallus couldn't find the breath to respond. As the pressure eased just a little he pulled his hand away from his lips and frowned at the spattered red against his palm. No, not good at all.

He tried to hide the evidence by curling his fingers against his palm, but Zeb cursed again, his growing agitation the signal that Kallus hadn't been quick enough. "Stay with him. Keep 'im wake if ya can," the Lasat snapped.

"Where are you going?" Ezra shouted after him.

"To get the only person that's got a chance of savin' 'im!"

Kallus shuddered against another fresh wave of pain as Ezra inched closer and hovered there. He couldn't say anything to ease the teen's worries. He didn't have the energy. It was all he could do to keep his eyes open as it was.

—-

There had been a growing buzz of fear that pushed on his senses since Kallus had gone down. It had built and grown in their little crew in a way that Kanan never could have believed just a few years before. Not for the then-ISB agent that had been hunting them down. Despite their hesitancy in trusting him when they had discovered that he was Fulcrum, Kallus had fought with them, bled with them, and he was one of theirs. If there was anything Kanan knew about this small group that he called family, it was that they protected their own, and Kallus had become one of their own. He wouldn't let fear overwhelm him. He wasn't ready to give up hope. Somewhere, somehow, the Force would show him how to save Kallus. It had to.

But it hadn't. Not yet. Kanan didn't know how long he'd been knelt in the solitude of his room, deep enough in a meditative state that buzzing fear had become distant. It had been, at least, until Garazeb Orelious threw the door open and barged inside, snapping him out of it without the answer that they all needed him to find. "Zeb, I told you to —"

"He's dying!" the Lasat snapped and Kanan loosed a breath threw his nose, trying to stay calm.

"I know. That's why I'm looking for a way to help him." Didn't he know that? Of course he did, but he was letting the panic override everything else.

"We're outta time," Zeb pressed.

Kanan let his sightless eyes flutter open. "Kallus is stubborn. He just has to hang on long enough to get him to Yavin IV. Part of the supplies was the bacta we've been needing. The tank —"

"He can't breathe, coughin' blood. 'e won't last till we get to base. It's eatin' 'im up, Kanan."

A quiet, frustrated sigh left him. "I haven't found—"

"Do what you did for me. After Lasan. I was 'alf dead 'n you saved me. So the same for him."

"It's not that easy, Zeb. I had no idea what I was doing when I saved your life. That's what I've been searching for: a way to replicate it."

"Just try. You ain't gonna hurt him worse, an' I'm bettin' you can save him. At least buy him time."

"How far to we have till Yavin?"

"'Bout ten hours."

Then he really didn't have a choice if Kallus was deteriorating that much.

Kanan unfolded from his place on the floor and followed his friend to the tiny med bay they had. Ezra was hovering nervously over Kallus, Sabine having joined, and Kanan reached out through the Force and nearly stumbled under the onslaught of pain, blunted only by the fact that Kallus seemed to be hovering close to unconsciousness again.

"What do you need from us?" Sabine asked quietly and Ezra moved out of the way so Kanan could take a seat next to the injured man's bedside.

"Quiet," he answered and reached out, one hand against Kallus' shoulder and the other against his arm. He could feel the pain, he could sense the struggle to breathe, and the overwhelming sense of drowning without any water in sight. He tried to open himself up to let the Force guide him, but between Kallus and their nervous crew mates all around, it was difficult. He needed a focal point.

Kanan pulled in a steadying breath, letting his mind drift back to the first time he'd met Zeb. Beaten and broken, the blast that had nearly killed him had left his fur matted in blood and bones shattered. He'd given up, and without understanding why, Kanan couldn't. He hadn't known him then and he didn't understand at the time that he would, eventually, become family. He had just allowed the Force to use him, and it had. It had used him as a conduit to knit the Lasat - one of so few that had escaped Lasan - back together.

And now it was doing the same for Kallus because they couldn't give up on him either.

The Jedi felt the Force move, a warmth in either hand and somewhere in the back of his mind he noted that Kallus' breathing was easing just a little. He fell into the focus as he sank into the chair next to the bedside and held on. He was going to be okay. Kanan wasn't sure how, but he was sure of it.

"Two hours out," Hera's voice over the comms broke through his trance and Kanan felt himself slump forward.

"Kanan?" Ezra's voice came from directly to his right and he reached a hand out blindly for him. "Are you okay?"

"Just tired," he answered.

"All of his vitals have stabilised," Sabine said. "They're up some and his breathing's better."

Kanan nodded tiredly. He knew. He still wasn't sure exactly how he'd done it, but maybe a little hope just went a long ways.

—

Kallus hated the feeling of swimming back towards consciousness. The disorientation, the equal chance between pain and danger. Sometimes both. His ISB training had taught him a handful of tricks to ensure any captors were unaware he was awake, but that didn't make it easy. Or particularly pleasant.

Something innate in him was ready for the pain this time, as if it had been there every time before, but it was muted. He laid there for a long moment, his breathing starting shallow, but deepening as memories filled in blank spaces and he became more aware of his surroundings. He flexed his fingers, feeling the sheets that were just a little thicker than in the Ghost's tiny medbay. As he let his eyes flutter open he found himself looking up, the stone ceiling high above him. Yavin IV, then. Somehow he'd survived long enough to get back.

Kallus shifted carefully, bracing for the pain to spike. His side was sore, the movement pulling on a still-healing wound, but nothing like it had been in his last memory. It didn't make sense, though. Even though they'd gotten him back and clearly had gotten him treatment with their renewed medical supplies, he didn't know of any medicine that would have stopped the spread of deterioration the disruptor rifle caused. Bacta tanks could do wonders, but he would have had to become a semi permanent resident in one to have done that, and the rebellion simply didn't have those resources. No, something else had happened that had saved his life. He just didn't know what.

He blinked hard, trying to clear his vision a bit more and turned to his left. His gaze fell on where Kanan Jarrus was sleeping on a bench against the wall, Hera leaned up against him, and vague memories started to tug into place like a dream that the mind wasn't sure if it was going to hold onto yet. There had been so much pain and then a strange sort of warmth. He couldn't grasp ahold of any of the details, but something told him it hadn't been medical science that had saved his life against all odds, but the same Jedi that he'd once hunted down for the Empire. Kanan had saved his life. He swallowed hard at the thought, the movement in his throat pulling a weak cough from him.

"Hey."

The voice from his right was soft and familiar, and Kallus looked over to find Zeb on the floor, a teen snoozing on either side as if he were an oversized pillow. The sight pulled a soft, amused snort from the injured man and a real, albeit small smile. Everything felt like it was working in slow motion. "Hey," he croaked back, happily surprised the words were audible at all.

"How ya feelin'?"

There was rustling at the sound of their quiet voices, but if any of the others actually woke, they didn't budge. Kallus shifted a bit again and took fresh stock. "Stiff and sore, but the fact I'm alive seems like a good sign." He paused his lips together. "How…?"

"Kanan," Zeb confirmed quietly. "Same way he saved my life once."

Kallus winced, but it wasn't from the physical pain. "After Lasan?"

The Lasat hummed an affirmative and carefully started untangling himself from Ezra and Sabine. The Mandalorian's eyes fluttered open and she eased over to where Zeb had been sitting, keeping the somehow-still-sleeping Ezra from falling sideways on the med room floor. She offered a tired smile before settling back in.

"You've been out for a few days," Zeb explained, moving to stand closer to the bed so that his voice was less likely to wake the others. He pulled a single chair over. It wasn't made for a being his size, but he took a seat so he was eye-level with Kallus. "We started in shifts when everyone was goin' through debrief over what happened, but at some point we just all ended up in here."

It was another sharp reminder of just how different this group of people were from those he'd worked with in the Empire. The people that had stood at attention when he walked by and had scurried to carry out his orders, but when it came down to it didn't give a damn if he made it out of a dangerous mission alive. For so long he'd told himself it didn't matter. He was doing his duty, no matter how ugly it got. He was serving what he'd determined to be a greater good. And he'd been utterly alone surrounded by a star destroyer's worth of people. Not anymore. Now, waking up from what - if he were honest - were the repercussions of his own actions years before during the atrocities he carried out in the name of duty, he was surrounded by people that didn't just care, but had fought for him to live.

"Hey?" Zeb called softly, pulling Kallus out of his thought. He leaned over him worriedly. "You okay?"

Kallus blinked, realizing that his eyes weren't blurring from the sleep he'd just come out of. A couple more rapid blinks cleared them and he turned towards Zeb and tried for a smile and a small nod. The Lasat didn't look convinced and Kallus cleared his throat, trying for a subject that was a little more practical rather than all of the emotional thoughts swirling around in his head regarding the show of loyalty from the people he still didn't feel he'd earned it from. "At least tell me we got what we went for."

"Yeah, we got it. Good thing too. You spent the first couple days back in a bacta tank."

That pulled a small frown from the injured man. "We didn't have that much to spare."

Zeb flashed a toothy grin. "Oh, Mon Mothma made sure of it. We ain't got the numbers to make him pay for what he did, but Mothma made him think we did."

Kallus snorted a soft laugh, the irony of the woman that would have seen him court marshalled a decade before now fighting for his life was not lost on him. Exhaustion tugged at him and he repositioned, trying to wake himself up a little more.

"Get some sleep, Kal. We'll be here," Zeb promised.

"You said after it was done," Kallus mumbled. They must have been flushing his system with meds. It was the only reason he was losing focus that quickly.

"What's that?"

His lids were too heavy. He reached a clumsy hand out. "I'm sorry."

"Nothin' to be sorry for. Just get some sleep."

"No." He forced his eyes open and looked over. "For what I did. For Lasan. I'm so sorry, Zeb."

He heard Zeb breathe out a sigh and the Lasat reached a large hand out to his shoulder. "You ain't that person anymore. Not n' a long time now. You're family now."

Kallus opened his to eyes and Zeb squeezed his shoulder gently. "Nope. You don't get to argue when the Spectres call you family."

"Wouldn't dare," Kallus answered and felt sleep pulling him under. Against the odds, he'd made it - they'd made it - and they'd live to fight another day. As long as they lived, there was hope.

---

End. 

Notes: This idea slammed into me a while back and just wouldn't let go, so, being Whumptober, it felt like a perfect fit. And what is hurt without the comfort at the end? I just really love the idea of the entire Ghost team collectively adopting Kallus and him slowly wrapping his mind around that. I Hope you enjoyed reading as much as I did writing this!

#whumptober2022 #no19 #knees buckling #fandom #star wars rebels #alexsandr kallus #zeb orrelios #kanan jarrus #hera syndulla #ezra bridger #sabine wren

[ihopesocomic]

Relationships (even happy ones) aren't 100% perfect and I'm really happy you're depicting some personal conflict between the main couple without hamming it up. After all everyone has disagreements, and Storm and Hope both raised some valid points about their completely contrasting lifestyles (Even if on Hope's end she got a bad instance of it, which is likely why Storm seems to generalize them; definitely a bad thing to do, but given Storm was seeing Hope and seems to have had the Grove be her exposure to prides, I don't fault her for thinking all of them are like that) and how it can be hard to just suddenly settle in and agree with everything about said lifestyles, 'specially as a social species, even if Storm isn't saying everything.. hm.. I actually wonder what she held back. Either way it's nice to see! Especially in a climate of the internet at times where apparently disagreements are seen as bad for couples (no fr I've seen that, it's weird and on the same level as people thinking relationships without fights and spice and drama all the time are boring and completely unengaging which makes me, a lover of simple undramatic couples that communicate even a little instead of mishearing everything the other said, a sad lady :c).

Hopefully they do come to that middle ground sometime, like Hope settles in as a roaming lion with her little group and Storm sees that not every pride is like that like Hope said. You mentioned the Thundering Mountains being a good way to show that nuance, so I cannot wait.

Love Cackler Ma's debut too. I loved her from the get go and love her even more and she didn't even need to say a damn word. :D

I'm thrilled everyone liked Cackler Ma's debut even tho she said nothing! That means we did a scene with its intended effect haha everyone got the idea of who she is pretty quickly.

And YES they definitely have differences they need to work out. Plus Storm wasn't being entirely sensitive to Hope's perspective, along with not sharing her own experiences. Hope's pride did influence her opinion somewhat, but it more buttressed what she already believed, if that makes sense. And when Hope thinks of prides, she thinks of people who take care of each other. Which is what a pride is supposed to do in this world haha They're not an oppressive force whose existence goes against the laws of nature. But Storm definitely has thoughts worth considering on top of the points already made.

But these are the beginnings of an ongoing and evolving conversation between these two. This is the first time they talk about it, but it won't be the last. They'll eventually want what the other wants. They are end-game after all. We want it to be equal parts interesting and equal parts normalizing healthy disagreements (and we also don't want to do character assassination in order to make one seem more right than the other at an awful attempt to show flawed traits while simultaneously ignoring the bigger problem at hand. And leaving the other out in the rain...) which is something lacking in media, particularly queer media.

And we want them being end-game to feel earned. We could always just have them live happily ever after, but if their relationship leaves a bad taste in everyone’s mouth along the way, or it feels like they’re just being forced together, then that’s no good either, know what I mean haha - Cat

#ask

[lesbiancarat]

Tbh I’m really glad they cut the setlist down a bit. Because when I saw their schedule and it looked like they were going to do 3+ hour shows multiple times a week, for weeks if not months on end, I got really worried. Ode To You really showed us that that will make the members sick, so I’m glad they (seem to) have learned from it. And if a shorter setlist is what’s needed to keep everyone healthy, I’m all for it <3 Another thing is, if they want to be a group that does concerts and tours for a long time, when the members are well in their 30s, they need to lay the groundwork for it now. It seems like they’re looking further ahead now, good for them!

And I really don’t want this to sound Iike I’m guilt tripping people into feeling bad for the members or anything like that, or that no one can be disappointed about the shorter setlist or the songs they cut (rip boom boom </3), but I do think we should try to be more understanding when the members do something to take care of themselves, especially since they’ve shared their struggles of the last tour with us. Yes a 4 hour concert would be incredibly fun I would love to experience it too, but at what cost? It’s simply not realistic on tour. It was possible in Seoul mostly because of the ments (I rewatched my recording the other day and the ments take up at least an hour), as the members are more comfortable in Korean and thus more chatty, the super long encore, and in general they could ‘go all out’ because they weren’t traveling and had some time off right after - all factors that are completely different on tour. Not to mention that 3-4 hour concerts are NOT the standard (Seventeen were just too generous) and we should not push for it to be the standard, for the sake of the artists and everyone involved.

Same anon as last ask. So just to make it clear, what I said wasn’t directed at you, but was more so a general message because I’ve seen some carats be unhappy or confused about the setlist, so I wanted to bring that up. Ok that’s all have fun at the concerts everyone 💙

oh yeah, there was never a doubt in my mind that they would at least shorten the ments a lot even if they didn't shorten the setlist itself. a 4 hour show at every stop just isn't feasible, especially with how intense their performances are. and their ments are always shorter outside of korea since they have to either use a translator or speak english themselves, so it's harder to make jokes/banter with the audience. not to mention SVT know or expect that a lot of the audience in the US may be casual fans or ppl who primarily stan other groups so they aren't going to make as many inside jokes as they would in korea either. like you said, there are just a lot of reasons 4 hour shows are possible in korea but not elsewhere

it's totally understandable for ppl to be disappointed if a song they were looking forward to got taken off the setlist (personally I'm sad i won't get to see 24H 😔). and i also get being disappointed about the reduced concert length if you don't have much concert experience and genuinely weren't expecting it. and for the most part the ppl I've seen talking about it are just talking about their disappointment over a specific song. but I've also seen a small handful of ppl that are having extreme reactions to the setlist change, and i agree that it's really frustrating

i feel like those people do not consider the fact that SVT are people or realize how taxing their performances are at all. i get that people want their money's worth, but it's not like 2.5 hours is a short concert, and they only removed 4 songs out of a set that still has 30 songs. i feel like anyone who's concerned over (in my opinion) that little of a difference should have done a better job at asking veteran carats what to expect before they bought a ticket. it's not like there weren't people talking about it 🤷‍♀️

it's just so frustrating to see people who feel entitled to a 4 hour show when there is video evidence on htr of how taxing tour is on SVT's bodies. I'd like to see all of those people do cardio for 4 hours every day SVT have a concert and then get back to me lol

even western artists that hold like 1-1.5 hour concerts with little to no choreo often get fatigued and sick when on tour so of course kpop groups are going to have a heavy toll on their bodies... that's also likely a big factor why kpop acts tend to have very limited stops during world tours. it's just not physically feasible for them to hold 50+ concerts in one tour

#melia.ask #anon #im trying not to dwell on those people too much though #i want to be able to look forward to and be excited for the chicago stop when it rolls around 😔

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