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arty-shadow-morningstar · 7 months

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Who Made Me a Villain (5)

To the ppl who read my fics only on tumblr, I am sorry. I have been posting a lot on ao3 and I keep forgetting that I have a tumblr acc. I will try to be more mindful in the future.

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[Masterlist] [Ao3]

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Here) (Part 6)

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“B, what’s all this?” Dick asked during one of his visits to Gotham. He was here for Alfred’s cooking.

Upon seeing the eye bags on Bruce, Dick was understandably worried. “Have you slept at all, Bruce?”

“A few days ago, Rebel brought something serious to my attention.”

Bruce had spent days working on the case Rebel had dropped into his lap. He felt that she had summarised the situation too simply. Or she was unaware of what the full extent of the situation was due to her lack of experience and knowledge.

John Constantine was unhelpful in getting more information on the Miraculous but did confirm their presence in Paris in the same period Rebel had given. Rebel had given more information than him.

Zatanna said that she would sort through her father’s journals to give him a definite answer but told him that it was likely Rebel was telling the truth about Paris. There were surges of the magical equivalent of earthquakes from Paris which her father had gone to check out a few years ago.

Diana had overheard their conversation and talked about how her mother used to wield the Ladybug Miraculous. She promised to talk to her mother for more information. Bruce decided to ask Doctor Fate later if his research wasn’t enough.

However, the thing that had Bruce tearing apart his training dummies like they were paper was the good-for-nothing, sham of a man that Paris had for a mayor.

Mayor André Bourgeois had blocked all news about the akuma from getting out of the city. He didn’t report about it to the Justice League European branch and blocked all attempts to prevent others from reporting it. His reasoning was that the child heroes were enough. That was just the political side of things.

To further make things worse, the heroes who were stationed in France all claimed to have been told to be relocated to other cities by the Justice League Headquarters. They did as they were told under the assumption that someone else would be filling in for them. Just before Hawkmoth struck.

Bruce investigated that lead and it appears that someone had sent out that order but Bruce hadn’t figured out who it was yet or whether it really was sent by one of the Justice League. Either they had a mole or the JL Headquarters needed a new update to their systems.

Then, one of Zatanna’s contacts in Paris had informed her that magic helped in preventing news of akuma reaching outside of Paris.

By the time Dick came to the Manor, Bruce was hours deep into the many footage he had spent the most of the day collecting from the internet. He started with the first akuma where Ladybug and Chat Noir were practically strangers shoved together and forced to rely on each other. He didn’t like that the Parisians were forcing the love narrative between the two of them. Ladybug had the sense to focus on her job and remain professional while Chat Noir tried to enforce the love story. He was not pleased with that interview.

The Ladyblog that was run by a very dedicated teenager was very helpful in getting raw footage of most fights, albeit a bit shaky and blurry. He was currently watching the blog owner’s interview with Ladybug. How she got an interview with the very elusive heroine Batman doesn’t know. There was something about the heroine that caught his attention. It felt like he had met Ladybug before.

Dick skimmed over the notes Batman had taken. He whistled. “This is pretty crazy.”

“Why are you doing all of this research?” Dick asked.

“Hawkmoth. I am trying to track him down.”

“Wait, you are telling me that there is a powerful supervillain in Paris and these kids are heroes? They look like babies. They don’t even know how to properly fight.”

“We are already too late. Hawkmoth has been defeated and stripped of his powers.”

“So what’s the problem? Is he coming back?”

Bruce sighed heavily and showed off his days of research to Dick.

“Rebel had been planning something for months. Something big. I asked the reason behind it all. She asked me to bring him to justice and she would call it all off. Apparently, the leader of the hero team, Ladybug, gave Hawkmoth the equivalent of the slap on the wrist and Rebel doesn’t agree with him being off the hook that easily. He got his wife in exchange for giving back the Miraculous under his possession and didn’t face consequences for his little foray into villainy.”

“How does she know what happened to Hawkmoth?” Dick asked, “It just says that no akumas was seen for a month and then, Ladybug announced that Hawkmoth was defeated before disappearing forever.”

“According to her, Rebel used to be one of the heroes going against Hawkmoth.” Bruce told him.

Dick nearly fumbled the file in his hand due to the surprise.

“Oh. Um. That- That explained a few things. The experience in fighting. Those acrobatic stunts. Former hero, huh.”

It left a bitter taste in his mouth. The thought of somebody who was once a hero turning to the dark side.

Dick changed the subject. “Any luck finding him?”

“I have one suspect. He’s the one that fits the profile.”

Bruce handed Dick a file.

“Gabriel Agreste.”

Dick looked through it. “He’s a fashion designer. That doesn’t exactly scream evil to me.”

“Even without Rebel’s hints. He’s still suspicious.” Bruce said. “I am meeting him in a month to get a feel for him.”

Dick closed the file. “Even if he is Hawkmoth, it’s been a few years since his defeat. We can’t just take him in.”

Bruce suddenly looked very tired.

Tim popped up from where the pile of blankets besides the Batcomputer that Dick hadn’t noticed. Dick’s and Bruce’s voices have woken him up.

Dick definitely did not scream.

“Tim! How long were you there?” Dick asked, putting his escrima sticks away.

“A few hours I think.” Tim replied and yawned.

“Anyhoo,” Tim started, “Rebel had already taken care of that part. She had been using different accounts to sow seeds of conspiracy theories and rumours for people online to find Hawkmoth’s true identity. No mention of Gabriel being Hawkmoth or it won’t be taken seriously if the truth comes out. I think she is trying to spread the idea that Hawkmoth must be taken in to face the legal system.”

“Why is she going that far?”

Bruce was silent for a moment. “Hawkmoth was part of the reason she was framed for murder.”

“Framed? Why do you think that she was framed? Her father is the Joker. The Joker. The one who killed Jason.”

Bruce stiffened. Jason had left Gotham after their last showdown. Last Bruce heard of him, Jason had teamed up with Roy Harper to form his own mercenary team.

“I know. But children are not their parents.”

Bruce handed Dick another file.

“Her case file and the transcript of her trial. Read it and draw your own conclusions.” Bruce instructed.

Dick took it.

“You are not going to like it, Dick.” Tim said.

—--

A day later, Dick came back, storming into the Batcave.

He slammed the file in front of Bruce.

“What the fuck is wrong with people? How did something like this get past you?” Dick demanded furiously.

There was the last thing that was cherry on the icing of the cake that was this whole situation.

Rebel was not supposed to be in Arkham Asylum. She was not supposed to get a life sentence. She was not supposed to have fourteen charges of first-degree homicide to her name.

Dick read the trial proceeding.

It was way over exaggerated and very dramatised. He thought that he was reading the script for a courtroom soap opera drama. Dick even went as far as to hack into the French government to get the untranslated copy of the files and it was just as bad but in French. It didn’t take him long to find the blatant amount of bribes that were tossed around. The very obvious abuse of power. Every odds was stacked against Rebel. The unnecessary DNA test that unfortunately brought her to Gotham.

No wonder Marinette Dupain-Cheng turned to a life of crime. Everyone was dead set on labelling her the bad guy.

Then, he read Gabriel Agreste’s involvement in the case. His son was part of Rebel’s old class. Their classmates spoke about Rebel’s stalker tendencies towards him. But Dick kept an open mind, knowing how exaggerated everything was. Gabriel had blacklisted Rebel from every company in the fashion industry he had connections with. That move confused Dick until he found out that Rebel was trying to be an aspiring designer. It was essentially salt in her wounds.

Dick simply couldn’t understand the witch hunt against Rebel.

“Bruce, we have to do something about this.” Dick said.

“The only thing we can do right now is bring Hawkmoth in before Rebel takes it into her own hands.”

“What do you mean by that?” Dick asked.

Tim injected. “You already know that Rebel had been acting suspicious for the past few months. She had been meeting up with several different villains and secret projects we couldn’t figure out until now.”

“We found a warehouse in Washington connected to her that contained these strange stone statues.”

Bruce pulled up a picture of the stone statues in the warehouse.

“Now look at the clip of the first akuma attack.”

Bruce played a clip of Stoneheart attack. The monster looked similar to the stone statues in the photo.

“Going through the akuma fights and her movements in the past few months. It is obvious what she is trying to plan.”

Picture of Rebel talking to many different ice villains with a powerpoint presentation and a clip of the Glaciator attack.

Picture of a machine that could create floods that the Teen Titan had managed to shut down a few years back and picture of Paris being flooded.

Picture of Weather Wizard, next to a picture of Stormy Weather.

“She’s trying to recreate akuma fights.” Dick concluded. “And making it seem like Hawkmoth was back.”

Bruce nodded gravely. “I wouldn’t have figured it out if Rebel didn’t deliberately let me in on her plans. She exposed a great problem we had missed. She is giving us, the League, a chance to rectify our mistake.”

Rebel was not counting on the legal justice system to bring Hawkmoth to justice. She was counting on him as Batman to make sure that Hawkmoth ended up with the same fate as her. His reputation torn apart and dragged through mud. Behind bars for the rest of his life with the supervillain mark following him everywhere.

Or she will forcefully do it by bringing the whole world down to force the Justice League in carrying it out.

“Without Ladybug’s miraculous power, it would be disastrous for us and we would have a lot of civilian casualties.”

“I don’t think she would do that, Bruce.” Tim argued.

“Then, lock her up.” Dick suggested.

“Arkham is currently in no position to take her in.” Bruce said. He looked resigned.

Dick looked at Tim for an explanation which he helpfully provided. “It was being renovated a few months ago to put in a new security system. In the chaos, her records were wiped out from the system and her physical reports went missing. Every copy was gone. So even if we arrest her now, we have to find a pretty good justification to keep her there legally. We only have these copies because Bruce regularly back-ups the Arkham database onto the Batcomputer and the Bat-net.”

Dick cursed. While they could just put it back, it wasn’t worth the headache if it was erased again.

“What about the police? Won’t they have her records?”

“Same thing. We think she did it when Clayface attacked the police a while back.”

“How about her original case that sent her to Arkham?”

“It was erased too. We need to get to Paris in order to access their database or if she erased her case, then we need to get the physical copy and we would have to go through so much legal bullshit to get it. That will take months.”

“She covered everything.” Dick said, amazed.

“She thought of all the possibilities and covered all of her bases. She had been staying under the radar and not getting caught.” Bruce said.

“He means that he got caught in her traps if we try to catch her.” Tim said with a shit eating grin on his face.

Bruce grumbled.

“You? How did you even get caught?” Dick asked.

“Rube Goldberg machines.” Tim answered.

“Rube what?”

“Here.” Tim opened up Youtube and showed Dick a video of a marble rolling down a pipe and then knocking down a row of dominoes in a spiral which continued to set off a chain of reactions that ended with a ball going neatly through a hoop and triggering a banner that said ‘WOW!’ to pop up.

“So that’s what it is called.” Dick commented. “Aren’t these like super complicated to do? She couldn’t have set them up that quick …unless she had them set up beforehand.”

“According to my research, she has at least 50 of these set up in different locations around Gotham. There are videos of people setting these off on purpose. Rebel is always making more. They usually have victims stuck in a net or a hole. Or have water, paint or liquids splashed onto them.”

“She did that? That picture you sent me where Bruce had yellow pain all over him?”

Bruce glared at Tim.

A derisive snort came from the entrance of the Bat cave.

They all turned to look at the newest addition to the house.

Damian Al Ghul. Well, Damian Al Ghul Wayne now.

“I find it hard to believe that this one petty criminal got the better of all of you.” He said mockingly.

“Damian.” Bruce said. “Even if she is just a petty criminal, she cannot be underestimated. You must never underestimate your opponent, no matter how deceiving they look.”

“Perhaps Father, you and Drake aren’t good at doing your jobs.”

“Like you would be any better catching her.” Tim said under his breath.

“If it was up to me, she would be killed on sight.” Damian continued.

“Damian, we do not kill here. People deserve another chance to redeem themselves.” Bruce explained like he had a thousand times before.

Damian scowled. “I don’t need to kill. I have brought in targets alive before.”

The way he said it implied that those targets were in a state where their hearts were the only things that could still move.

“Do you really believe that you can catch Rebel?” Tim asked.

“I don’t have to believe. I know I can.” Damian answered, disdain in his voice that Tim dared to doubt his skills.

“I bet you can’t.” Tim taunted.

Damian lunged but was stopped by Dick who grabbed his shoulder.

“Boys!” Bruce shouted. “Tim, stop antagonising him. Damian, you know you aren’t allowed to go out on patrol.”

“No!” Damian demanded. “Drake has issued me a challenge. I will not back down. I will prove to him and you that I can catch that petty criminal that goes by Rebel.”

His declaration was filled with the determination and stubbornness that all eleven year olds seemed to possess.

Bruce rubbed his head at the oncoming headache.

He knew that despite whatever he gave, Damian would go behind his back and against his orders to fulfil his self-assigned mission of capturing Rebel.

“Tim, this is all your fault. I am blaming you for this. You will be washing the Batmobile for a month.” Bruce said after some thinking.

“Bruce!” Tim complained. “What did I do?”

“You started it. And Damian, I will let you go after Rebel.”

Damian gave Tim a smug grin.

“However,” Bruce continued. “There will be a few conditions.”

Damian stood up straighter and paid attention. “One, Nightwing will be with you.”

“What? Why, Bruce?” It was Dick.

“I am busy with the Hawkmoth case. Tim and Damian shouldn’t be together. Cass and Steph are busy with their own things. I don’t think Jason wants anything to do with me and he’s out of town. Babara has no desire to watch Damian.”

“Thank you, Bruce.” Oracle’s voice came from the Batcomputer.

“Tch. Grayson is an acceptable choice.” Damian said with a sniff.

“Fine. I can stay for a week or two. Give me a few hours to sort some things out.” Dick threw up his hands in defeat.

“However, he will not be helping you. He is going to be monitoring your every move and he will intervene if it was a life and death situation.” Bruce added.

“Fine.” Damian replied.

“Two, when you bring Rebel in, she should not have sustained any life-threatening and fatal injuries. She should also possess all of her limbs intact.”

Damian scowled harder. “I know my limits. Anything else?”

“Three, do not kill anyone to achieve your goals.”

“Got it.”

“Your deadline to bring her in is in three months. You will report to me on your progress every morning. That’s all. Any questions?”

“No. I will not fail you, Father.” Damian said seriously.

“Does anyone else find this funny?” said Dick. “Son of Batman hunting down daughter of Joker. Children of two arch-enemies repeating history.”

“That only means that I am destined to bring her in.” Damian further solidified his mission.

—--

Forty-eight hours later, found Damian, currently going by Redbird, tied up, covered in green paint and dangled upside-down over a vat of something that smelled utterly foul.

Rebel landed near Nightwing and asked, “So what’s the deal with the new kid?”

Nightwing extended a hand dramatically towards Damian, “That’s Batman’s blood son.”

Rebel frowned. “Is this going to be a thing now? Child of Batman versus child of Joker. Because I really don’t want to hurt the kid that much.”

“I AM NOT A CHILD.” Redbird yelled as he struggled against his restraint. “Nightwing, help me get untied and catch the villain!”

“Would a dip in that kill him?” Nightwing asked, pointing at the vat of whatever that was. He wanted to stay more than 20 feet away due to the smell alone.

Rebel shrugged.

“Probably not. It’s just water from the Gotham River with the contents of the nearest dumpster emptied into it.”

Nightwing shivered. He had taken a dip in the icy cold waters of Gotham River before. It was not pleasant. And the amount of showers he had to take to finally get rid of the smell.

“Good news, Redbird.” Nightwing shouted back. “You won’t die if you fall.”

Redbird threw some words in Arabic that sounded a lot like swears.

“So… I ask again. What’s up with the kid?”

“He thinks that Batman would accept him as the one true heir of the Batman title if he catches you.” Nightwing explained. “It has nothing to do with the blood rivalry thing. He’s trying to prove Batman wrong by trying to succeed in catching you when Batman and Robin - especially Robin - couldn’t catch you.”

“It’s there like a deadline for this? Because I really don’t want to play cats and dogs forever with the gremlin.”

“Oh yeah. There is.”

Rebel smirked. “That means I just have to up my game then. Thanks for the heads up, Bluey.”

Nightwing’s smile faded as he realised his slip-up. “Damn it. Baby Bat is going to kill me.”

“Hey, can I use that nickname?”

“Does it matter if I say no?” Nightwing said.

“Nope.” Rebel said with a laugh as she slipped away into the shadows.

—--

A Bat signal shone in the night sky. Calling Batman to action.

However, it was not Commissioner Gordon who met Batman on the rooftop that night.

“Commissioner-” Batman immediately went on guard as a petite figure of Rebel greeted him instead of the broad shoulders of the Commissioner.

“What did you do to him, Rebel?” Batman growled out.

“Chill, Mister Bat, he’s dealing with an anonymous tip off for his latest case at the other side of the city. I just flipped the switch to your nightlight to get your attention. Less messy than other methods, don’t you agree?” Rebel explained as she switched the Bat-signal light off.

He glared at her. “What do you want?”

“A week is up. So what are you going to do?”

Batman gave a tired sigh. To be honest, he had forgotten about the deadline. There were so many things he had to take care of. Starting with the possible Justice League breach. An entire city being under attack and no one noticing until the problem was gone. The investigation into who Hawkmoth was. Finally, dealing with a testy Damian who didn’t take his loss against Rebel well.

“My conclusions showed me that you were telling the truth about akumas. I would like to apologise on the behalf of the Justice League for our massive oversight. You were a child that had to fight a war without support.”

“I won that damn war. Without your help.” Rebel said defensively.

“Yes. You did. I am not criticising your achievement, Rebel. I am just pointing out that you were a child fighting those monsters everyday and some of those monsters had been a family or a friend. You shouldn’t have to carry a burden like that on your shoulders. Even Nightwing had me to look after him until he could step out of my shadow to fly on his own.”

“We weren’t alone.”

“You weren’t. You had other people who were as clueless as you about what to do. No one taught you the basics. You had to learn how to fight all on your own. You had to learn to do it right on the first try because a mistake would cause you everything. I am sorry that we weren’t there to provide that guidance.”

“Why are you apologising for that? You didn’t know.”

Batman’s frown became deeper. “That is exactly the problem. Something this big slipped under our radar.”

He went on to explain about how the oversight occurred. If anything, Rebel looked surprised by the news.

“So you're telling me that I could have had help. I wouldn't have to do it all on my own if it wasn’t for a lot of people meddling.”

She sounded angry. The comment about her doing it all on her own confirmed a theory Batman entertained. There was a little evidence that pointed out otherwise but with magic there was no telling if the evidence wasn’t faked.

“We never realised until now. We have failed you.” Batman apologised.

“Kwami. All this time. I thought you were too busy with your own world-saving to pay attention to Paris. Fucking Mayor Bourgeois. Fuck Magic. Fuck whoever mess with your systems. Fuck Hawkmoth.” Rebel screamed. “What else? What else do I have to know that I didn’t know?”

“That’s mostly it. I am here to get your account of what exactly happened during those years.” Batman paused (Dramatic bitch) “I also need you to confirm the identity of Hawkmoth.”

“Well…” Rebel inclined her head for him to continue.

“Gabriel Agreste.”

Rebel smiled from under her mask. “Bingo. As expected of the World’s Greatest Detective.”

She pulled out a flash drive from her pocket and handed it to Batman. “Here’s everything I wrote down from what I remembered.”

“How did you know I would ask for it?” Batman asked as he took it and put it away in his utility belt.

“I didn’t. I was going to send that to every news station when I start my Armengeddon plans.”

Batman stared at Rebel, waiting for her to hand over her Armengeddon plans she had given the other villains.

Rebel stared back at him defiantly.

“Hand them over.” Batman demanded.

“I already gave you what you needed.” Rebel said with a raised eyebrow, pretending to be oblivious about what Batman wanted.

“What about your Armengeddon plans?”

“Oh. Those plans. Yeah. Gimme a minute.” Rebel reached into her jacket inner pocket and took out a slim notebook. She tossed it to Batman who expertly caught it.

He flipped through it and noticed the jagged edges of pages torn out. He also noticed that none of the plans that involved other villains were in the book.

“Where are the missing plans?” Batman asked harshly.

“You thought it was going to be easy?” Rebel said amused. “I want definite proof that you are working on taking him in.”

“How long do I have to get you proof?” Batman asked cautiously.

“When is the deadline for your son to catch me?”

Batman knew that tone. He had heard that tone from the clown before Joker pulled out the punchline.

“In three months.” He answered.

“That’s around when the plan is supposed to start anyways. Then, if you don’t have it by the time Redbird catches me, you won’t get the plans. However, if he doesn’t catch me by the three month deadline, you will get the plans and I will tell the others that everything is called off.”

Batman had a feeling that if Rebel wasn’t wearing her mask, there would be a smile on her face identical to the one Joker would usually wear for his maniacal plans.

Children aren’t always their parents. But they sometimes inherit their parent's worst traits.

“Deal.”

What other options did he have but to play along with her games.

—-

After Rebel was gone, Redbird came out of the shadows.

“Father, what is the meaning of this?” He demanded. Redbird had been hiding to unleash a surprise attack when Rebel proposed that inane condition to Batman.

Batman sighed. “We will talk more back at the Cave.”

“I want an explanation now.”

“Just hold off trying to catch her for at least a week, Redbird. I am not going to stop you from your task. Maybe use that time to observe her instead.”

Redbird huffed but nonetheless accepted the compromise.

“Fine. It gives me more time to make more well thought out plans.”

“Since she would mostly be at school, you won’t have to do much.”

Batman grappled off the roof and Redbird followed.

When they reached the Batmobile, Redbird turned to his father and said.

“Father, I have been thinking. Perhaps I should infiltrate her school in order to get closer and gain more information on her movements.”

Bruce looked at him in surprise, remembering the first time he suggested Damian going to school and being told that he was never going to step foot into a subpar teaching environment.

“Are you sure, Damian?”

“I am sure.” Damian said firmly.

“I will call the principal in the morning and arrange everything.”

—

“Come back here, you-” The insult was lost as Redbird comically stepped on the rake. The handle hit his face like those old cartoon gags.

A slew of Arabic curses were unleashed.

"Tick-tock, birdy." Rebel taunted as Redbird held his broken nose. "It's nearly midnight and I am not still not in chains or behind bars."

"I should have your tongue cut out for your insolence."

"That threat lost its charm about two months ago." Rebel replied in a bored tone.

"Be more creative. Like ‘I will slowly take a small piece of your tongue a day, roast it and force feed it to you’." Rebel declared with an imitation of Redbird’s voice but slightly higher pitch than it actually was.

“I will gladly do so.” The threat probably would have sounded more intimidating if Redbird wasn’t still holding his broken nose and didn’t sound like he had a very bad nasal problem.

Rebel covered her mask with her hand as if trying to hide a smirk.

“Well, little bird, if you are done with your threats, I will be off- WHAT THE FUCK!”

Rebel didn’t look where she was going and had fallen down the hole in the roof that was hidden with a tarp..

Redbird grinned as he peered over the hole where Rebel had fallen into a cage he had set up to work like a bear trap.

“You aren’t the only one skilled with traps in this city.” He boasted.

Nightwing landed, giving Redbird an appreciative whistle and applause.

“Good job, baby Bat.”

“Call the police, Nightwing. Tell them I have the fiend, Rebel, in custody.” Redbird said.

“Sure thing.”

Redbird turned to give Rebel a smug look at his sure victory. It immediately got wiped out as he saw Rebel dangling her legs over the hole she fell down a few minutes ago.

She gave him a cheeky wave.

“HOW?” Damian exploded. “HOW DID YOU ESCAPE MY FOOLPROOF TRAP?!”

“It’s not foolproof if a fool like me could get out of it that easily. Nice setup though. Gave me a few ideas for my next project.”

Redbird growled and launched himself at her. Rebel rolled out of his way.

Landing nimbly, Redbird charged at her and threw a few attacks. Rebel effortlessly dodged every one of them.

Nightwing watched with a bored look on his face as Redbird chased Rebel around the rooftop.

“Well, you can tell by the way I use my walk. I'm a woman's man, no time to talk ....”

Rebel took out her phone and turned off her alarm as she ducked a birdarang.

“It’s midnight! And you know what that means. You just failed your mission.” Rebel announced cheerfully.

Redbird yelled in anger and charged at her.

Nightwing stepped in between the two to restrain Redbird.

“Chill, baby bat. You need to calm down. She won, fair and square.”

“And just as promised, I will send over the plans I made for the other villain to the Big Guy.” Rebel continued as she walked backwards to the edge of the rooftop.

“See ya around, Birdies.” She said as she jumped back off the roof while giving them a finger salute.

Nightwing hurriedly let go of Damian and ran to look over the parapet wall. Rebel appeared to be perfectly fine after a five-storey drop and was calmly putting her helmet on. She got on her bike and drove off.

“Um… guys.” Oracle’s voice came over the comms. “There is actually fifteen minutes left until midnight. She lied.”

The two vigilantes looked at each other and cursed. They grappled off, trying their best to catch the cunning villain.

—

“I am sorry that I failed you, Father.” Damian reported.

Three months should have been more than sufficient for him to complete his assigned task successfully. He even had subjected himself to the establishment called a school in order to catch Rebel.

Each time, he thought that he was close to capturing the most slippery villain in all of Gotham. Something would interfere in his plans and Rebel continued to walk free.

Head down ashamed as he kneeled on the cold floor of the Batcave to receive his punishment. Damnit, why was his vision getting blurry?

The shadow from his father’s cape moved closer and blocked out the light. Damian braced for the pain.

Damian was confused when he felt his Father placed his hand on his head. It felt… odd and comforting.

“It’s alright. You did your best. Even with the restriction I placed on you.” Bruce said.

Damian’s confusion increased.

“But… I failed.”

It did hurt to admit his failure but he was more confused by his father’s actions. Grandfather would have given out some sort of punishment by now. Like going against some of the League’s Finest on his own.

The hand moved from his head to his shoulder.

“Look at me, Damian.”

Damian obeyed and met his father’s blue eyes. The colour reminded him of the flowers his mother would sometimes wear in her hair when Grandfather was out of Nanda Parbat.

“Even if you had failed in your task, you still had helped me.”

Damian was flabbergasted.

“How?”

“In order to capture her, you monitored her every move. Because of you and your reports, I knew her every move. Avoiding your attempts kept Rebel so busy that she wasn’t able to work on her plans as much. Which gives me more time to work on how to bring Hawkmoth in.”

“I still failed.”

“And I am telling you that you still did a good job. You can learn from this experience and learn how to do better.” Bruce said.

“Aren’t you going to punish me?”

“No. I am not going to punish you for this.”

The answer seemed to have shifted Damian’s worldview. It broke Bruce’s heart to know how Damian had been treated. Being punished for failure which made Damian scared to fail.

“How.. how can you…”

Damian didn’t seem to comprehend that there would be no punishments for failing.

“Damian.” Bruce said gently. “I know that this is hard for you to comprehend but we do things differently here. We do not kill. And we do not punish people for simply failing.”

“But Drake… Batmobile.”

Oh right, grounding.

“I will reiterate. I will not physically hurt you as punishment for failing your mission. I do not like raising my hand to people I call family. Yes, you are part of it now, Damian, no matter how unexpected your arrival was. I prefer giving you chores to do instead. Like washing the Batmobile. Giving Ace a bath. Organising the case files. Helping Alfred around the Manor. Even then, it’s only if you misbehave and go against the rules of the Manor. And you may see them as pointless but they were put in place to keep you safe. I don’t want to see any of you hurt. Yes, including you, Damian.”

Bruce hoped that he got through Damian. Made him see that things were different now but they were a good kind of different. Maybe now Damian would let him in and be the better person Bruce knew he could be.

Bruce thought all of this as he hugged the slightly shaking boy in his arms who hid his face with Bruce’s chest. ------ (Part 6) ----

Taglist: @toodaloo-kangaroo, @iloontjeboontje, @buginetye, @angelwreckedd, @anoires-blog, @ever-since-i-was-young, @shutupandactuallylisten, @its-maemain, @vel-vee, @kashlyn, @officiallydarkgeek, @jayjayspixiepop, @cmouse, @transheso, @thecrazyfantrolls, @just-a-random-girl-loves-anime, @maddiesupdates, @the-dumber-scaramouche,

#who made me a villain #biodad! joker #cue bruce being a good dad #introducing insufferable damian #morally grey marinette/rebel #mlb x dc #ml x dc

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sunriseverse · 4 months

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What are you uh...what are you salty about? (I'm nosy as hell, give me the tea)

okay SO. disclaimer before i start: if anyone seeing this likes the youtuber mentioned, understand i am not calling her a bad person; i have some very specific umbrage with her, and i will detail why. you don't have to agree with me, but if you, in any way, inform this youtuber of this post and what i'm saying, you will be blocked, because this is meant to be on my personal blog only and a severe violation of my boundaries to tell her about this.

let's begin, shall we? (below the cut, since this got a bit long; my apologies.)

for context, since i started watching zmyx, i have been periodically checking youtube for amvs of the show so i can add them to my playlist. while doing so, i stumbled across this video by AvenueX. i had watched a video by her previously on the show under the skin, and mostly enjoyed it. i love hearing people react to batshit cdrama, well, drama, and "this show was up for bare hours before being taken down" definitely counts as something i like hearing reactions to.

i cannot directly upload the clip into this post, but i'll put the subtitles in for the relevant section, which begins at the 12:25 mark and ends at 14:59.

AX: Basically, there is a BL drama that was made quite a few years ago and hasn't come out like all the BL dramas, Zhiming Youxi. It's based on a novel called Wanghuatong [sic] and is a clear BL drama. The platform was iQiyi, and they cast Huang Junjie and Xia Zhiguang. These two guys have been multiple other stuff ever since then, and if you watch a lot of Chinese dramas, you probably have an impression of who they are. Neither of them are considered to be good actors, very young, and not really coming from professional sort of trained actor background[...]I'm not so interested in the story to start with and not interested in these two actors either, because BL dramas is hard to do well; you have to be good actors to pull it off, and you actually have to know what type of acting you need to be doing. You're not actually playing realistic gay people, you're playing imagined version of [here she makes a sound i can only transcribe as the auditory equivalent of tilting your hand back and forth], that whole complicated psychological thing on the back end, and if you're not clever and experienced enough actor you actually easily make a mess. Based on the leaked out footage I see on the internet, it's embarrassing, in terms of the acting, and they stole the most important line from Word of Honor, which is 'there's light on you and I want to grab it and take a look'. Every BL drama has a classic line[...]and this drama shamelessly took a completely, and that part of the video is online. I've watched it, and I'm like, 'oh my god, oh my god, just because you're another BL doesn't qualify you for stealing literally the line from another BL drama[...]just because of that I'm like, oh, okay, now I can make fun with other people together on this drama being living [sic] on the internet for like, what, three-four hours[...]it's a good thing this drama is buried now, and please don't show up again. I don't want to see it. It's embarrassing, it's embarrassing, okay.

bolding mine; these are the portions i have umbrage with.

let's go through the points she makes, shall we?

this show is "embarrassing", in terms of acting; presumably, this is connected to the earlier line about the actors not being known as "good actors", and not having professional acting backgrounds.

it stole a line from shl.

she thinks this drama deserves to be made fun of for "being embarrassing" because, presumably, the actors don't play bl roles the way she thinks they should, and "make a mess of it".

i must reiterate: she can have these opinions. these are opinions she is entitled to. i disagree with them, but i respect her right to have them. however, because i also have the right to my own opinion, i am allowed to be pissed about these opinions she has.

i will go through a point by point breakdown of my responses and thoughts on each point.

i think it's really stupid to judge an actor based simply on them having a professional background or not. when it comes down to it, the most important thing for actors, especially co-leads, in a show, is their ability to do their job and create believable dynamics with their co-actors. in my opinion, xia zhiguang and huang junjie do this very well in zmyx. their dynamic feels natural and realistic to me, and, more importantly than that, it compels me. i don't say this as a "fan" of either actor; it was a nice bonus to me that hjj had also played another character i like, but even if he hadn't, i would be judging this performance as lin qiushi based on its own merits. i have never seen xzg in anything, and again, i am judging his acting in this show on its own merits. also, i should add there's something hilarious about her holding up shl as a "good" bl, when you could argue that those leads aren't "good" actors, either. i mean, look at advancing bravely! or, maybe, i don't know, it's possible for actors to improve over time and do better in certain projects than others? and someone doesn't have to be the "best" in all areas of their field, just the right choice for the role they're playing??

this is just stupid, in my opinion. the line is not stolen; it is altered and becomes its own line in zmyx. in shl, the line is, as she says, "there's light on you and i want to grab it and take a look". in zmyx, the line is "there's a light on you that i don't see on others". this is, at most, a reference—and zmyx isn't the only bl that references other media! this is a silly, petty argument, in my opinion, and frankly annoying as hell. if it were a crime to reference any other media in the same genre as the media doing the referencing, we'd miss out on so much. to me, this reference doesn't read as an appropriation, but as a nod of appreciation to another bl which was heavily censored. also, if her claims are anything to go by, and zmyx did film "years ago", it's possible that, actually, zmyx used the line before shl did. even if that isn't the case, who fucking cares? genuinely, i think this is a stupid point and i hate it.

she thinks the actors made a mess of the show by not playing the roles in the specific way bl roles are "meant" to be played. we could spend years arguing about the "right" way to play a bl role, but to me, it sounds like she has a very specific idea of the roles bl actors must fit into and fulfil—specifically, that they must play an exaggerated, unrealistic mimicry of gay male relationships, or else it's a "bad" bl. i don't know AvenueX's sexuality, but as a person of the homosexual persuasion myself, if not one attracted to men, i personally don't like exaggerated mimicries of gay relationships, and i would wager a guess that many gay and bisexual men are probably in this same boat. when i watch a bl show, i prefer that the dynamics are driven not by the idea of what gay people should act like, but by 1. the plot, 2. their own characterisations and character motives, and 3. their relationships and dynamics with each other. in this regard, while zmyx isn't a "good bl", i think it's a good depiction of the relationship between two characters. i don't say this to be holier-than-thou, or to claim i'm somehow "better" than other people who do like specific exaggerated tropes in bl; i say this because i feel like AvenueX entirely disregards the possibility that the thing that she doesn't like about zmyx are things that other people will.

(additionally, while she never says this, i get the impression that one of the things she doesn't like is that the chemistry between the characters isn't the "typical" bl chemistry. i, frankly, don't give a fuck. i think the leads have fantastic chemistry, and it annoys me that she thinks they "made a mess" just because they don't fit the idea she has for what a bl "should" look like. i, for one, think it's a good thing that we're moving away from caricatured depictions of gay people in media, especially danmei and dangai. myself and other asian gay people, especially east asian gay people, have pointed out how harmful caricatured versions of gay asian characters are.)

(also, as an unrelated, and petty aside, if i remember correctly, she's a british film school grad, and not to be judgemental, but, yeah, i can fucking see it.)

so, yeah. that's my two fen and indignance on this. but, hey, what do i know, i'm just some random tumblr user ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

#sorry this took me an entire goddamn hour to write #unfortunately i kept having to reword things to be less irritated #because while i may be pissed i do NOT want to take potshots at someone for stupid things irrelevant to her actual words #ask #i could go into a whole ramble about lgbt representation and depiction in danmei and dangai and how in my opinion it's #advanced in leaps and bounds even just in the past five years #(you can see a similar thing in yao in and thai bl)#but i will not do that because it's not relevant to this specific conversation #关于门神跟人谈恋爱的那件事 #c.txt

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always-coffee · 7 months

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The Kind That Might Drown a Man

I have a piece of art that I love. It’s a siren, clearing drowning a man. It was painted by an artist who I considered a friend, who I spoke to nearly every day for three years. He used a rather artsy photo I had taken as a reference photo, with permission. (If we are mutuals, you may ask to see it.)

I was elated when he wanted to use my photo, to make art out of a piece of art (photos are art) I was proud of. I said yes, immediately. He was going to do a series of mythological characters, and I'd be the perfect siren.

When he showed me a photo of the finished piece and also when he posted it, I was happy. Then, he sent the original painting to me as a gift. I was over the moon. It felt cool. I felt cool. Seen, valued. It did something to combat an old wound of mine.

In the past, artists—people who I thought were friends, but who were only ever actually interested in getting into my pants (nooooope)—had asked to paint me. Reference photos were even sent. But the interest quickly fizzled when they realized that what was on offer was only friendship. It wasn't good enough, so those connections faded like sun-seared fog. No one is required to make art of someone, but when something flattering turns out to be wildly disappointing it is, at best, weird. At worst, it’s dehumanizing.

But back to the point: my friend made gorgeous art out of a photo I dearly loved of myself. It felt good, and I felt special. Fast-forward to years later, and I have severed that friendship. It turns out that, despite all the conversation and all the camaraderie and even the co-working we did together, he was a liar.

There were things he casually and purposefully lied about for no discernible reason. And when I discovered the truth, it gutted me. It felt worse than a romantic breakup in a lot of ways. I don’t like being lied to. At all. Tell me the awful truth, and I’ll deal with it. But purposefully, repeatedly, and knowingly abuse my trust? Absolutely unforgiveable.

I’ve spoken elsewhere on the internet about the details of the lies—the utter pointlessness of them. (Imagine, for instance, lying about who redid the landscaping in your backyard.) It was during the pandemic where we began talking in earnest, having entered each other’s orbit through a mutual friend in the art world. He seemed safe. We shared good news with each other, vented about the insanity of the world, swapped cute animal photos and funny memes. But the context of it all was impossibly and completely different than what I was told. The curated image I was given was a lie. Things were deliberately kept from me, information was twisted and distorted—and the kicker was that he lied to other people about me.

Again, for no reason. We’d done professional work together, and it was very public! And very fun at the time. But he apparently claimed we weren’t friends. The moment things started to feel wrong between us was easy to brush aside. Easy to explain away. Easy to understand. He was stressed, job hunting. I was dealing with myriad stresses of my own. No relationship is unmarred by life’s more than occasional weirdness. It’s easy to shrug things off. To ascribe to something banal, innocent.

Then, the truth came out. And honestly, I’m still sifting through the ramifications. The ways the deceit stuns me, even now, not just in the moment. How it felt peculiar to suddenly and wildly not know someone.

In the moment, I took the piece down. I put it away. I didn’t want to look at it. I couldn’t. It was too big of a reminder. It felt like mockery. Because what was it all about? What was the point of any of it? (These are questions that will never have answers.) I was—and still am—angry. Angry at the broken trust. The carelessness of it all. The cruelty too, so unnecessary in its articulations.

But what do I do with the art? Initially, I thought I’d burn it dramatically like Sylvia Plath and the letters. Or chuck it in the trash, as symbolic gesture of getting rid of it all, of closure. (Because there is none of that here, and that is fine. I do not want it. Nothing said could fix or mend or ease.) Getting rid of it, however, feels wrong.

It’s still beautiful. It’s still art. It’s still me.

But for now, it won’t hang where I can see it. It will not be a reminder of heartbreak and betrayal. It will not sit a monument to a lost friend, who was such a small, sad creature in the end. Because to act with such malice—and there was malice in the threads of it—is not the act of a kind or good heart. And I do not have space in my life for anything other than warmth and genuineness.

Someday—I don’t know when—I’ll put it out of the dark and either hang it up or give it away. Someday, maybe someone I love will want it, and I will want to give it to them. A moment of captured beauty, the kind that might drown a man—offered with love.

I’m glad I didn’t burn it, even as I am glad to have burnt that bridge.

#art #artist #friendship #betrayal #humans are weird #sometimes in the bad way #siren #siren painting #ali trotta #poet #hurt #relationships #I really hate being lied to #what to do when the feelings are hard #truth #trust

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oldimgurpics · 1 year

Note

Out of curiosity: How much porn do you have to sift through while curating these images? Ever seen gore or similar awful things? And for what kind of reasons might a picture not be posted? Great blog btw :)

Excellent questions! Much of this is actually answered in the FAQ I have in the about section of my blog, but I'm always willing to answer questions regardless.

On almost every rotation of images (of which there are just north of 100) I am almost guaranteed to see some kind of nudity. Most of the time, it's nude pictures random people have taken – presumably uploaded with the intent of only showing a single person – while other times, it's professionally shot photographs.

Tangentially related to that, one of the strangest phenomena of doing imgur roulette is the baffling and sometimes concerning frequency of certain images. A model (at least I assume they are) by the name of Amanda Baylie Brown appears in imgur's old URL hashes a stunning amount of times. There are days in which I will only see her once or twice, and there are some in which I'll see her a dozen or more times, but I usually see her at least once a session. I'm not exactly sure why she has 18 bazillion photos of herself uploaded to imgur, but most of them – while not pornographic – are suggestive in nature, which is only one part of why I bring this up.

The other reason is because image frequency feeds well into the next question. One of the most common images I come across when spinning the wheel of images is a picture of a man with a gaping, bleeding cut on his cheek. The gash runs horizontally from right before his left ear to a couple inches away from his mouth. I have seen this picture countless times. I have no idea who this man is or why a picture of his injury has been uploaded to imgur so many times, and I can't find a whole lot of information on it either.

That said, that image is among the most tame of the shock/gore images I've encountered. Mercifully, shock/gore is not very common while doing my searches, but I certainly have come across my fair share while running this blog. As a loser veteran of the internet for twenty years, I've seen enough disgusting imagery to be desensitized to it, so it doesn't bother me much when I come across it, but it's still common enough that I don't like to tell people how I generate these images. This blog started with three mods, but two of them stopped working on it as a result of some of the more abhorrent shit they were unintentionally exposed to, and I do not blame them.

Finally, reasons for why an image may not be posted can be somewhat arbitrary. There are a few ground rules, though: No straight up pornography, no intimate pictures of people, nothing that contains identifying information (names, addresses, etc), and nothing bigoted. The rest is really up to my discretion. At times, I've passed up images I've found to be interesting/entertaining simply because there might be an underlying, bigoted meaning behind them. Sometimes, it's because it's in a different language, and while I tend to machine translate those images, I don't always trust those translations on the off chance there's some extra, unsavory context to those words I'm unaware of.

Thank you very much for your questions!

#tw gore #inquiries

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jodithann827 · 1 year

Text

Pretty Woman 8/11

Rating: Explicit / posted on AO3 /tagging @today-in-fic

SocialPro Headquarters

Beverly Hills Office

Tuesday

9:02 am

Sitting behind his larger-than-life mahogany desk, Mulder fiddles with the small rectangular tickets in his hand. So many life-altering thoughts are swirling through this head. Visions of business ventures, Diana, Mr. Spender, and Scully. He’s beginning to see what Scully was saying about Spender. The old man had called the previous evening, pushing Mulder for an answer. Attempting to hold him off, Mulder informed him he would be away from the office for the day but promised to get back to him. The more Mulder thinks about it, the offer doesn’t sit right with him. He’s excited to get away, clear his head, and think about the decision with an open and carefree mind.

He puts tickets down gently and then quickly picks them back up, turning them over. A knock at the door startles him, bringing him out of his trance-like state. As the door opens, Mulder drops the tickets into his open desk drawer and casually looks up to meet Diana’s eyes.

“So what’s it going to be Fox? Are you willing to play ball with Mr. Spender?” she asks, dropping to a chair in his office.

“What’s his first name?” Mulder asks. Diana opens her mouth to begin to speak, then quickly closes it. Her face indicates that she’s searching her brain for an answer. In her silence, Mulder continues, “Don’t you think it’s odd that we don’t know his name? He doesn’t seem to play by any social rules, he doesn’t answer to anyone but himself, that we know of. I mean, who is this guy?”

“Who is this guy?” she repeats, not fully comprehending what Mulder is trying to imply. “He is a very rich man who wants to give you a truckload of money for his internet company. So what if you have to do some ‘behind-the-scenes activities for him. Fox, this deal is almost closed. Finish it already!” She looks at him and sees that he is not actively looking at her, but instead picking up and playing with rectangular papers.

Fox,” she snaps. “What is wrong with you? Your behavior has been outlandish,” she punctuates. His silence speaks volumes so she goes in for the kill. “Up late with the hooker?”

This gets Mulder’s attention and fire flashes across his eyes. Diana realizes she may have taken it a step too far and backtracks. “I just mean that clearly, this woman has you under some type of spell, the way you’ve been acting. I alluded to it yesterday.”

Mulder, doing his best to ignore her, hastily pushes back from the desk and stands.

“Spender is my business, Diana. And so is Dana. I’ll see you tomorrow, Diana.” He shifts to make his way toward the door but Diana quickly steps in front of him, blocking his way and not caring that she has moved completely past the realm of professionalism.

“It’s nine o’clock in the morning. Where are you headed?”

“I have a date,” he says, though he offers no additional information. He sidesteps her.

“A date?” she questions, doing little to hide how appalled she is. She turns, watching him head for the door. “You’re dating the hooker now?” He pauses as he reaches the office door and turns, eerily calm, then meets her confused eyes.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Diana. I’ll be out of touch all day and evening,” he says, shutting her down and ending the conversation. With that he turns to leave, offering up no further explanation.

California Freeway

11:10 am

“You’re kidnapping me,” she informs him as they sit in comfortable silence in the limo with Langly driving through the streets of California. There’s no fear in her voice, only eagerness.

“Kidnapping would imply that I took you without your consent,” Mulder replies in that charming and self-assured way Scully has grown to like over the past few days. “You willingly got into the car.” They sit next to each other with one of Mulder’s hands draped across Scully’s knee, idly drawing a figure eight over and over. In the past twelve hours, he has been overcome with this great need to be touching her, feeling her presence. Her almost departure shook him deeply, something he struggles admitting to himself.

“That’s because there was a promise of a surprise,” Scully explains while fidgeting in her seat, unable to stay still. She’s excited in a schoolgirl-like way. It doesn’t help that at the start of the adventure, Mulder placed a blindfold over her eyes. Scully shivers, thinking about other things she could be doing with and to Mulder with the covering on her face.

“Still not kidnapping.”

“You’re not going to tell me where we’re going, are you?” she pouts, hoping he can hear the tone in her voice, not even knowing if he’s looking at her or not.

“Patience, Scully.”

She huffs, but on the inside she is jubilant. She can’t remember a time someone did something for her out of the goodness of their heart. Yes, on one hand, Mulder is paying her for the week. However, Scully can’t help but think that their actions over the past day or two, have gone beyond the arrangement. She’s never felt like this before. The butterflies flutter about in her stomach when she thinks of him. The emptiness in her heart when he isn’t with her. She breathes slowly, trying to rid herself of the lump she knows is forming in her throat. Pull it together, Dana. You only have today and tomorrow with him and then this is over, she thinks. That only makes the lump grow, so she tries another tactic. Dana, this man, this sweet, caring, sexy-as-hell man, is trying to give you the best day. Get out of your head for a while and try to enjoy it! Mission slightly accomplished, she sighs, leaning into Mulder ever so gently, relaxing to the feeling of his hand on her knee.

After what seems like an agonizingly long drive, the limo slows. Losing the warmth of Mulder as he quickly exits the car, Scully then feels his tight grip slip around her slim fingers. With a pull, she is out of the car, but her equilibrium is off due to the blindfold. Mulder steadies her, the cloth never slipping from its position. Feeling a tickle in her ear, she hears, “Wait here. Langly is behind you and won’t let anything happen to you. I need to take care of a quick thing and then I’ll be right back.” Before she can protest, she feels a breeze replacing the warmth where he just stood. Panic quickly sets in, yet she maintains a slow and calming breath, knowing Mulder would not leave her in a helpless situation.

“He needs to go check in,” Langly whispers from a foot or so behind her, sensing her hesitation and rising apprehensiveness.

“Where are were Langly?” she questions, knowing he won’t answer her.

“This is supposed to be fun, Scully; make sure to enjoy yourself,” is his only response before going mute again.

After what seems like eons, though she’s sure is less than five minutes, she senses Mulder’s presence back at her side. Grasping her hand, he leads her forward. They walk ever so slowly.

“You know, Mulder,” she starts, “You could take this off and we could get where you want to be faster.”

“Where’s your sense of adventure, Scully? This is probably the most excited I’ve been about a surprise in… hell in I don’t know how many years. It’s just as much for me as it is for you. Please don’t make me ruin it. I promise we’ll lose the blindfold in a few minutes.”

The genuineness in his voice doesn’t surprise her in the sense that he is tickled for her, but more so for the fact that he is exhilarated about it himself.

After a few more strides and a few more minutes, they come to a stop. Scully hears people, lots of people, but beyond that, she cannot fathom where they are.

Standing just behind her, Mulder unties the cloth and lets it fall from Scully’s vision.

Raising her hand to her mouth in utter disbelief, all she can muster is, “Oh my… Mulder…”

“I wish it was Cinderella’s, but Sleeping Beauty’s will have to do. We didn’t have time to make it to Florida,” is all he says, letting her take in the vision before her.

Spellbinding is the first word that comes to mind. Amazing. Magnificent. Completely unbelievable. Magical. The bricks are several shades of gray. The flags burst with gold emblems. The tower points are the most spectacular shade of blue. It’s an image she’s only seen in pictures and only perceived in her mind. She’s standing at the foot of Sleeping Beauty’s castle. Large crowds move about their day around them, but for Scully, time stands still. She is back in her childhood home with her family, healthy and happy. She’s on vacations, at dance recitals, and at school science fairs. She is in every wonderful memory she can summon from her childhood. Tears spring to her eyes as she whips around to finally face the man she is falling in love with, but can never have.

“You brought me to Disneyland.” It’s not a question. It’s barely a statement.

Mulder seems shy, almost bashful; he wasn’t sure how she would react and this is almost too much. So he states the obvious, “I brought you to Disneyland.”

Suddenly her arms are around him and she’s squeezing as if trying to convey how much this moment means to her through a hug. “I hope you like it,” he says into her hair, his arms running softly over her back. She pulls slightly back and arches an eyebrow.

“Like it? Mulder, no one has ever done anything remotely close to this in my entire life. I don’t even have the words to–”

“Then don’t say anything. Let’s just enjoy the day. We have plenty of time in the park, several shows to see, an amazing dinner planned, and then to top it off, we’re spending the night in the castle.”

Scully’s eyes widen, though she didn’t think they could get any bigger, “Mulder…”

“Come on, Scully,” he says, maneuvering his arm so Scully can link hers with his, “let’s go to Disneyland.”

She pauses briefly and turns to him. “Mulder, this is… well this is truly amazing; thank you. And if I forget to tell you, I had an amazing time today.”

He blushes again and smiles, then leads her to where the fun awaits.

Carthay Circle Restaurant

9:45 pm

Elation mixed with a feeling of fulfillment settles over her. Not just because she is stuffed with the most amazing food she has ever eaten, but full of joy, happiness, jubilation, and glee, just to name a few, due to the last ten hours and the company she kept. The day spent with Mulder in the park was one that even in her wildest dreams she never could have imagined. They had played—literally played—like children who were given a free pass to a glorious world of magic and imagination. She felt free. Not restricted to the life she was currently living. Not worrying about her family, her employment, and what she wanted to do with her life. She’s been thinking these last few days about her life: agonizing, contemplating, unable to believe she can go back to the boulevard with Missy. There is more to life and she is ready to explore it all.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Her eyes raise to meet his.

Still guarded, she replies, “This food, this day, this place. It’s—it’s almost too much.” Mulder reaches for her hand after placing his dessert fork on his plate.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it. You deserve it, Dana.”

Scully’s eyes widen at the mention of her first name, but she doesn’t speak, sensing he has more to say.

“You are a loving, warm, compassionate, and passionate person. You have much to offer. You have brains and beauty. You could do anything, Scully, be anything.” A single tear threatens to fall from her eye. He’s looking at her and truly seeing her, beyond the job. He understands her better than anyone has since she lost her father. Needing to do something with her hands, she lifts her champagne glass and sips.

“Thank you, Mulder.”

There’s a moment of silence between them, both taking in the day and the evening to come.

“Well,” he tosses his napkin on the table. “Another spin around the park? A stroll downtown?” He’s sliding his foot along Scully’s leg.

She stares at the man in front of her, his beautiful face and tender heart. She knows that she has fallen head over heels in love with him. Leaning forward so her face is inches away from his, in a sultry tone she whispers, “Take me to bed, Mulder.”

Sleeping Beauty’s Castle

10:20 pm

Thump.

Lifting Scully in his arms, he holds her tight against the suite door. He’s ravaging her neck as she’s scraping her nails along his back.

Their coupling over the last week has varied. Sometimes soft and delicate, sometimes quick and dirty. It would be a lie if Scully said she didn’t want it all tonight. She wants every variation, every angle, and all of Mulder. The feeling of his hands kneading her ass and his unmalleable erection presenting itself through his pants. He is without a doubt marking her neck, but at the moment she doesn’t care. All she cares about is becoming lost in the pleasure that is Fox Mulder. As if reading her thoughts, his hands dig deeper into her, wrapping around her back.

“Where–” she starts to ask, but he cuts her off.

“If I don’t get you into bed right now…” he stops short of finishing his sentence. She shivers, knowing in her head what will happen if he doesn’t get her into the bed, not that she would mind.

The room is magnificent. As beautiful as the castle was on the outside, the interior is even more so. Spacious and bright, there are several bedrooms, living spaces, and a massive kitchen. The master bedroom, however, is the most luxurious space she’s ever inhabited. All of this is second on her mind to what Mulder is currently doing to her.

Dropping her onto the high-top mattress with a slight bounce, Mulder pulls off his clothes first, discarding them on the floor at the end of the bed. Proceeding to rid her of her clothes, he stops and settles himself between her thighs so they are eye to eye.

“You make me feel more alive than ever before, Dana Scully.”

Before she can contemplate the consequences of her actions, she leans in and captures his lips. Only taken aback for a second, Mulder pushes into the kiss and mirrors her need. Kissing as though they’ve never been kissed before, or would be again, they devour each other's mouths equally. Tongues, lips, and teeth. Biting, sucking, and pulling. The need for air is a minor detail that they are willing to overlook. Scully is pretty sure that she could cum any second with how turned on she is. Rules and consequences be damned, she pulls his lower lip into her mouth, hoover-like, which elicits a moan from deep in Mulder’s throat.

Scully pauses, releasing him. Mulder takes the opportunity to speak, though it’s choppy due to his breathing. “I don't think I’ll last too long, Scully.” He presses kisses to her lips in between words. Now that they have kissed, he can’t stop.

“Make love to me, Mulder,” she whispers. He obliges.

#dana scully #fox mulder #the x files fanfic #x files #au fanfiction #msr fanfic #msr #rules were meant to be broken

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twistedintern · 2 years

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~A summary/analysis of Mozus Trein’s voice lines [from Unified Exams No.7]~

Once again, the following analysis would not possible were it not for the efforts of the one and only Ras and their terrific Mystery Shop Translations. Theirs is not short of a bonafide labor of love; I am eternally grateful for their kindness in allowing me to corroborate my own interpretation of game content with top-quality translations.

The voice lines under examination in this post can be found here.

DISCLAIMER: As with my previous writings on staff voice lines, please keep in mind that this post is speculative in nature and should not, under any circumstances, be heralded as canon.

Let’s not delay any longer, dear visitors!

(As an added bonus, I furthermore have in my drafts a critical treatment for your reading pleasure: that is, a “mini-study” detailing Professor Trein’s relationship with another canon character, featuring evidence gleaned from personal episodes.)

FACTS

- He lives alone - His adult daughters correspond with him through written letters - They are concerned for his well-being; they often ask after his health and urge him to call upon them if ever a need - His view of academia is certifiably a no-nonsense one. He insists the duty of students is singular in nature: learning should--no, must--take precedence - He is firmly against utilizing the Internet as a research tool and/or study aid. According to him, it is rife with false information that anyone can claim factual. Books and printed matter (which require review in most cases) are far more reliable in his eyes - Not only does he loathe yawning during his class, he finds the gesture rude in public settings in general - He asserts that each and every one of Night Raven College’s instructors care deeply for students’ success and behave in accordance to seeing pupils realize their potential. No matter how strict he and his colleagues may be, what they do is for students’ own good - He strives to keep up a presentable, professional image befitting a scholar: little else factors into his choice in attire. In the interest of tidiness, he always has a lint roller handy for the removal of cat fur - He demonstrates admirable dedication to maintaining an orderly home and domestic environment, such that he cleans his kitchen and bathroom daily. He attributes this habit of his to his late wife--he thinks it unkind toward her memory to live in squalor - He does not play favorites; he treats all students equally - He has on a prior occasion consulted Vargas on the topic of keeping physically fit in a manner befitting his age. True to form, Vargas suggested he take up Magift... Trein is reluctant to pursue the latter’s advice on account of the risk of injury - He provides us with another example of Sam’s product savvy: despite Trein’s misgivings, Lucius has loved each and every cat toy the former has recommended. (A curious thing indeed, as the same cannot be said for the toys he personally selects!)

Logical Assumptions

- When he mentions “living alone,” he means, “living alone with Lucius”. Lucius is an indoor cat, after all: it would be strange if he did not share his domicile with his beloved companion - As he speaks of (laments) time passing since his daughters were small, it’s quite likely many years have passed since they “left the nest”

Speculation

- His daughters demonstrate incredible devotion to their father as well as an interest in his affairs: this very pronounced attachment could be an immediate consequence of having lost their mother early in their lives. Taken a step further, it’s possible that upon entering adulthood they came to recognize his labors and sacrifice as a single parent--a tremendous feat of selflessness and love

#twisted wonderland #twisted-wonderland #twisted wonderland spoilers #twst spoilers #mozus trein #kyuu speculates

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adhbabey · 1 year

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hope its ok im responding to ur post abt paych critical! it is so relatable! there are lots of things i appreciate abt the psych critical/antipsych community & movement but i also like. dont understand why in the world so many ppl are like overwhelmingly against therapy. obv it doesnt work for everyone! ik its not available or accessible for everyone! but its such a vast & varied field and such an adaptable thing that like. i don’t think i’ll ever get why ppl direct their anger towards those of us who *do* benefit from therapy or find it a useful tool for recovery. yknow. what good does infighting do!!! who does that serve!! this has turned into shouting into the void a little bit, sorry about that

Yeah it's fine. Honestly I'm pretty anti psych about a lot of things, like the fact that people are abused or mistreated in medical situations and that people are forced to take medication, have their rights stripped away, etc.

And I, too, hate that people call their partners by words taken from disorders. Like, you shouldn't call people "narcissistic" or "psychotic" as an insult. Pathologicizing abusers is just really fucking harmful and stupid. The whole thing is misunderstanding why those words exist in the first place and just scapegoating mentally ill people.

But this doesn't mean words like dissociation, triggers, panic attack, depression, manipulation, gaslighting, etc. don't have their purpose and it doesn't mean everyone is misusing them. And it is just stupid to assume everyone is, and that's the problem with some people who are anti-psych.

Some people view professional help and medical terms and diagnoses as bad, and it just makes them sound like the people they disagree with. I'm psych critical, not against helpful tools and professional treatment. They should be used with consent and with autonomy. Removing and gatekeeping information and resources is what's bad.

I'm extremely pro-self diagnosis. Partly because I am psych critical and partly because I think we have the intelligence to figure things out for ourselves. That crazy people aren't too crazy to know that they are "crazy". That we have the ability to recognize the fact that something is wrong.

Self diagnosing people aren't stupid for taking medical knowledge and applying it to themselves, they're not pathologicizing all human experiences, and I think that people who argue that are dumb.

So like. There is a middle ground that people aren't noticing, because they lean too heavily to one side. I can't function without medication, but I'm terrified of being institutionalized and my family is somewhat ableist, so I struggle to find an option to get help. I think most people on the internet have found themselves in similar situations.

So like, the whole "stop pathologizing human experience" and that people say "the tiktokification of the internet is bad", like bitch, we all loved Vine. The whole thing is just missing the understanding that people are striving for accessibility and education, not whoever the fuck that takes it too far.

So yeah, thanks for sending an ask to let me talk about this more. Therapy does not solve all your problems, especially if your therapist is not the right one. But it's something people should still try and seek. Maybe it's helpful, maybe it's not.

But the fact of the matter is, is that people are literally just using terms to understand their experiences. Sometimes they'll take it too far, but there is a middle ground. There will always be normal and reasonable opinions within it, we should listen.

#babey posts #psych critical

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ladylooch · 10 months

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but back to the topic of disappearing, I'm living almost a kind of dilemma

I'm going to start working professionally in collaboration with a hockey information/news portal and I'm feeling conditioned to delete my blogs and fan accounts because I feel like I won't have my professional role taken seriously if you know what I do in my spare time

I'm scared to death of the first criticism I release about team X, a screenshot of my account will appear where I'm thirsty for a player from that team 🤣😭

This is a tough one! And ultimately, you're the only one who can decide what you want to do here. Selfishly, I don't want you to leave me! However, being taken seriously in the sports world is like fighting tooth and nail all. the. time. I worked in sports for awhile and it was my educational focus, so I am speaking from previous experience. Writing and producing creative content is even more intense with how social media is these days.

There may be an alternative where you can do both. It may even be worth deciding if you want to create new accounts to be completely anonymous. It sucks to start over, but I did that here when I came back because I would die if anyone I worked with saw my stuff. It was the only way I felt comfortable creating and interacting with this world again. When I was 16, I didn't think about that and shared everything on the Internet. That was dumb. Now I'm older and know better haha.

But again, you gotta do you 😘 I'm curious if anyone else here has experienced this and want to offer advice/insight?

#b answers

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themollyzone · 1 year

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the angle

Ooh the internet is getting REAL WEIRD for me these days. It wasn't until after he died that I learned the reason my paternal grandfather was so into college sports (especially basketball) was because he thought professional sports were rigged, so college ball fandom was the only pure and honorable option. It's taken me a while to get into Conspiracy Grandpa status but it's starting to happen in a very particular way.

Specifically, I find myself seeing the way people craft their internet identities and output and saying: I don't believe it. Recently a young woman's thrift haul went viral on TikTok for being impressive and jealousy-inducing, then broke containment and went viral on Twitter where a lot of people were mad at her for scooping up cheap duds and reselling at a premium.

The original impressiveness of the video was supposed to be about buying a lot of desirable clothing all on the same day from the same store — I watched the video and was like, how are we supposed to believe that unless we watched her shop live? Twitch-streaming a purposeful skulk down the aisles of her local Goodwill?

Maybe she was collecting the best bits from a few different trips and combining them. After all, you don't go viral for buying just a couple cute things. You go viral for extremes: the most, the least, the cutest, the cheapest, the "most insane". I edit videos for a living and you have basically 2ish seconds at the beginning of a video to get peoples' attention so you can promote whatever it is you need to promote (in that thrifter's case, her cornucopian Depop shop). Your chosen thesis statement better be Entertaining.

Now there's a woman who has gone viral for being a tradwife, breasting boobily around her house and making terrible-looking home-baked bread for her alleged husband. The whole thing is sooo cosplay, and everyone's getting so upset about her content that they are forgetting she is not a housewife at all — she is a content creator. If you look at her Instagram from before she picked this particular Shein Marilyn Monroe Don't Worry Darling-style personal brand, she was trying to be a fitness influencer, posting about gains and doing that thing where you place a barbell over your hips and thrust vigorously.

The current internet is built for being reactive to the smallest and most impactful bit of information available. It is why people freak out about tweeted headlines without reading the full article, and why that account Pop Crave loves taking celebrity quotes out of context and riling up bloodthirsty fanbases for engagement, and why you can see one video of a "tradwife" looking like a Mad Men extras casting reject and don't bother looking back in her post history to see her recent-past self, striving in contemporary spandex and using hashtags like #fitfam.

That Natalie Portman movie Vox Lux was terrible but it had a silly line in it that I loved, where Nat's deranged Staten Island pop star character talks about personal branding for artists: "“It doesn’t matter anymore if you’re Michelangelo, or if you’re Mikey and Angelo from New Brighton. All that matters is that you have an angle." Internet fame is the carrot dangling on the stick, and to catch the fame, you need the angle, and you edit what you need to edit in order to hone your particular angle. In a sea of thrifters, you must get the most "insane" haul. In a sea of identical blonde fitness influencers, you must find a path of lesser resistance. Sweating to the oldies, indeed!!

Can you be mad at these people? I would say mostly I am impressed. I am excited to see in particular which sponsors the tradwife will secure in order to fund her future endeavors, because I do not believe her supposed single-income household will provide the financial backing she will need once she reaches higher levels of internet fame/infamy and wants a lifestyle to match. After all, the main brands who do influencer marketing are generally those who cater to girlbosses, not tradwives — subscription meal kits for homemade flavors on a time budget, blue light-blocking glasses for long days spent content creating on the computer, online therapy for the anxiety caused by capitalism.

That's the last question you need to answer when you are making content for free on the internet - where will the money eventually come from?

I just texted my dad to confirm my grandpa's rigged pro sports beliefs and he said yes, that was his theory — "Believe he used the term 'scripted.'" Keep your third eye open people!!! But wear third eye sunglasses to minimize UV exposure.

#tradwife #internet #nonsense

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smol-grey-tea · 3 months

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Secret Ending Three - Chapter Four: Options

Been ages since I've done any writing. Finally sat down to get some done.

I did some research into Korean culture for this chapter. The stuff that Lance says about school looks to be true, from what the internet has told me.

It's funny. My teddy bear's hand in mine, I'm sitting here at Banjul. A cafe. Places famous for the clutter and mess of food. Facing me is my silver haired doll, looking down at the papers he's placed on the table. The surface is clear of crumbs and completely spotless, now covered in notebooks and forms, all ordered neatly beside each other. It's all colour coded and even the pens sit next to each other in their black-blue-red order.

"Now, I've written up, in detail, what each option for us entails. Facts are written in black, opinions are written in blue. Pros on the left, cons on the right. In this folder is all the information you need about the academy, while this folder has information about jobs or other opportunities. Here is a pad for your own notes. Any questions..? Yes, Red?" "When can I go to the bathroom?" "You should have gone during lunch." "But I didn't need to go then!" "Fine," Lance relented with a tired sigh. I think if this were my first impression of school, I'd rather just stay home.

"It looks like a lot..." he says beside me, fidgeting with his sleeves as he takes all the paperwork in front of him in. "I'll definitely be in the same class as you guys though, right?" "Oh, of course, I'll make sure of it," I reply. "In my class, there'll be you, Lance, Yeonho, Soi and Shinbi. I'm the health commissioner, meaning that Mr Yujin gets to boss me around; Soi's the class president, so she kind of represents the class and is in charge when there's no teacher, and Shinbi's the vice president... You remember Soi and Shinbi, right?" "How could I forget that noisy blonde girl who wants to be a model?" "Oh, Soi's not the model, Shinbi is. She's on loads of magazines, but her dream job is to be a full time model for this one company... Hmm, I can't remember the name of it right now, but I know it's a big one." "Yeah... I can't blame you for not knowing, it sounds really boring. Standing around, posing in different outfits. I've done enough of that." "Well, maybe it's boring to you," I considered, sipping the last of my tea. "I just know she really enjoys it... Oh, and I also really like the clothing."

"Well, alright then... But do I have to become a class commissioner or a health president too? It sounds demanding" "You don't have to have any particular role in the school, no," Lance explained, for once refusing the chance to correct someone's poor wording. "But you can if you want to. Unfortunately, those specific roles are already taken, but you can take up similar roles in clubs."

Lance flipped through the academy folder and found the section he wrote on clubs. I don't think there'll be a day that the beautiful and professional way he organises everything doesn't amaze me. There lies, first of all, a contents page, listing all the different clubs in the school. The next few pages go into more detail about what each club is about, who founded them, and other things like where it's held and when.

"I, personally, am a member of the student government. This means that I handle matters relating to the school and making sure that everything runs smoothly, like ensuring that other clubs are being appropriate and not breaking any rules in their activities." "... By cross dressing?"

I watch Lance's pale face cloud pink and smile to myself, watching his eyes find anything to focus on other than us... Heheh... I had no idea something like that might come out of my bear's mouth.

"... What?" Red, who'd returned from the bathroom, asked. "Cross dressing? What do you mean?" "Um..." I struggled to find words without almost bursting out laughing. But Lance cleared his throat, reorganising the papers. "That is none of your concern... Let us change the subject if we're done with this topic." "But-"

"School doesn't just consist of club activities and friends though. You will attend classes every day, including maths, science, Korean, moral education, social studies, practical arts, physical education, music, fine arts, and foreign languages." "Right..." says my bear, head in his hands. "Classes are fifty minutes long with a ten minute break in between and seven classes a day, beginning at eight forty in the morning, ending usually at about four thirty in the afternoon." "Uh huh..." "You will be provided with notebooks for each class and will be expected to make sufficient notes during so that you will be able to pass all the exa-."

"When can I go to the bathroom?" "... Well, the teacher will usually let you go to the bathroom if you ask-" "It's over that way, isn't it?" "Oh... You meant right now."

He stood up and walked in the direction he saw Red walking in earlier, before finally finding his way and disappearing from sight. Lance watched him silently, probably wanting to object, but instead turned his attention back to his notes with a sigh.

"Where do you think the nearest stationery shop might be? We could take him there afterwards and see if he'd like a particular set." "Oh, that's a good idea. I'm not too familiar with this area though. Maybe I'll look it up."

I opened my smartphone and flicked past the background of the seven of us to find a search engine. The clever map on my phone highlights a bunch of different shops, one that's about a ten minute walk away. I never knew before that the internet would let me see a street view of the place from my phone, as if I were there myself. There are a couple of people around and even a dog. On the left is a cute looking candy store, and on the right...

...an estate agent...

... Right. Some of the dolls might have to move. We'll probably have to use one of these.

I wonder... It wouldn't hurt to take a look, right?

The website lists properties that are near and far, small and big, cheap and expensive. It looks like there are a few properties with two bedrooms not that far from our house actually. Might some of us have to move into a place like this?

Just out of curiosity though... Just because they're pretty to look at, some of these four bedroom houses look nice. This one has two bathrooms and even has a pretty cherry tree in the back garden.

"Did you find one?" Lance's cold voice snaps me out of my trance. "Huh..? Uh, yeah. This one looks good." "..." "..." "... That's a house." "... Huh." "No stationery shops around?" "... Oh! Yeah, uh... I found one near here, yeah." "Okay, then let's go there after. But..." "Hm?"

"I'm worried." "Why?" "Hasn't he been in the bathroom for a while now?" "Oh... Come to think of it, yeah." I must have spent longer than I thought on that letting website. "Do you think he's alright?" "I don't know... Would you go and check on him?" "Yeah, I should. I'll be right back."

Through a small hallway decorated with elegant instruments and antique cutlery was just one bathroom. The red colouring above the door handle showed it was definitely occupied, and it's thankfully quiet today, so there's no queue.

I hesitantly knock. "Hey, it's me. You've been a while, are you okay?" There's a shuffle before the door becomes unlocked... Does this mean I should come in?

I'm met with the view of my bear sitting in the corner of the room, huddled into a small ball... It looks quite sad.

"I want to go home," he mumbled, barely audible. "Oh my god... Are you okay? Are you alright? You're not hurt, are you?" I close the door behind me and he simply shakes his head as I cradle him in my arms.

"This isn't gonna work, I'm not good at anything. How am I supposed to go to school? I've only ever watched you at school, I've never actually been there myself. And even if it wasn't so hard, it's always so crowded. If you struggle with school and you've been doing it for years, how awful am I gonna be at it? That silver head thinks it's so easy. At least those dolls were made with the idea of going about society. I was just made to be cuddly and stay home. How am I gonna do this..."

"What? No way! I'm so sorry we made you feel that way, but I promise it's not that bad. And besides, you don't have to get straight As if it's too difficult. We can just take it slowly." "You really think so? You don't remember how that guy used to lecture you every single day and study with you for hours? How many questions you got wrong? You don't remember what he said about Yeonho being bad at maths?" "I..." "Even if it doesn't matter what the teachers think, he'll still be there when I go home. At least in the near future. I can't do it at school or at home and I'll just be bringing everyone else down with them trying to support me. It's not gonna work. Should we just give up?"

"Hey... I know how you feel. School is difficult for me too. But you can't give up when you haven't even started yet. And you don't have to be good at everything. We don't have to worry about exams anyway when we have more important stuff to worry about right now." "But Lance..." "Just... Listen. He's not gonna hurt you. He can be harsh sometimes and definitely a bit intimidating, especially when it comes to school, but he just really likes to stick to the rules. He'll understand if you're not breaking the rules just because you can. You're struggling. It's... Hmm."

Maybe I should have noticed sooner the way that he was getting so overwhelmed by what Lance was saying. And all the papers as well. Even how clean the table was. Lance sure can be a bit overbearing at times... But he doesn't mean it.

"I think it's something that we should just talk to Lance about. He's definitely the expert, right? He's even a discipline guide, so it's his job to help." "Really..?" "Yeah. Even if he can't help, it's best to be straight forward about it anyway. This is your future we're discussing here. We shouldn't just get all the facts straight about the academy, we should get the facts straight about you and how you feel too. Come on. Let's go and speak to Lance now, yeah?" "I..." I looked into his face and held my hand out to him. "Okay. Let's go." His hand is soft and warm in mine.

We didn't have to walk too far to find him though. As soon as we opened the bathroom door, there he stood in the hallway. I'd chastise him for eavesdropping, but I think this is an exception.

"Um..." He clears his throat again, hands visibly fidgeting behind his back. "So... I didn't... Well... I understand if you no longer wish to go to the academy. It's not something that's easy." I stroked the hand in mine with my thumb supportively. "Uh... It might be okay if I try going to the academy... It's just... What if I fail..."

"That's okay. I understand that I might have overwhelmed you with information and may have emphasised the negative aspects too much. I know that I've been quite insensitive towards other people in the past, but I'm working on changing that now." Lance bows his head sincerely towards us both. The ice is melting in his heart...

"I will do everything in my power to help you acclimate to the academy and will ensure that you always stay on top of classes and have enough time off if it becomes too overwhelming. I will personally give you a tour of the school on the first day and give you the highest of quality study sessions, according to your own schedule and preferences."

He straightens himself up and smooths down his clothes and my attention is once again drawn to his tidiness. His clothes had been recently ironed and even his fingernails were trimmed neatly in the same shape and size as each other.

"But I'm not saying this just to impress the owner. We are in competition, after all." I keep almost forgetting... "So I've had to start considering what my life might entail if I am not the one to win. I would like to pursue the position of student government president.

"A big aspect of being the student government president is impartiality and strict adherence to the rules. But I have learned, through Eri's help, the importance of emotions and patience. I know now that another big aspect of being the student government president is trying to understand other people's perspectives and why they might not be following the rules or meeting the highest standards."

Lance looks into his eyes, determined. I don't know how my bear's feeling, but I feel really happy that Lance is saying something so kind and thoughtful. I remember how his nickname, Ice Prince, didn't just come from his looks, but from his past attitude towards people. I'd almost forgotten that Lance hasn't always been so thoughtful. He was getting ahead of himself earlier, talking about the academy without thinking, but it was him who said he was worried. Worried about someone else...

"If you ever find yourself in a problem relating to the academy, you can always come to me. I do not mind and I can always make time to help people in need. That is my vow," he said with a final bow. "I...greatly appreciate it," my bear said, bowing back in reply.

I can't help but smile at this scene. We return to our seats and the rest of the day at Banjul goes much more smoothly. All in all, a good day. I hope I never forget these happy memories together.

#my post #cheritz #nameless the one thing you must recall #writeblr #my writing #I didn't know how to end it so I just ended it on that.

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