#the role assignment; how good they were at falling into their individual place in the team while staying adaptable
A long life sees many evils. From his earliest days as a headstrong padawan, he has been relentless in the fight, interceding in countless conflicts on behalf of the innocent and powerless. He is old now, and this war is unlike anything he has ever faced. Sometimes, he wonders if he will survive it.
He does not fear death, but the thought burdens him. In service to the Republic he is no longer a wandering guardian but a general of thousands. These clone troopers of Kamino, unexpected allies in the galaxy’s darkest hour, have proven themselves exceptional in every way. More than that, as their austere professionalism eases, their true selves have emerged: vibrant, distinct, wonderful individuals with whom he is privileged to serve. If anything good has come from the war, it is them.
He has been privy to the myriad debates and dilemmas of the Council, and he shares their concerns—everything about the clones’ existence is problematic. Nevertheless, the way forward is clear to him. His men are not at fault, and they depend on him to play his role. With all the powers and resources at his disposal, he can effectuate more than that. He looks after them, for no one else does.
As a peacekeeper out of his depth, he knew from the start that his command would not be straightforward. Indeed, it is anything but.
The breadth and urgency of the war dictates that he cannot go everywhere his men are needed. Instead, he must deploy the majority of them elsewhere while he devotes himself to special operations with a select few. This business of delegation is complicated by his uncompromising commitment to their safety. Each life, each soul, is a precious thing—not a currency to spend on tactical gain. He learned painfully from the Abregado massacre, a situation they entered so ill-prepared, that a critical appraisal of orders must precede any action. Each strategy is now carefully adjusted by him and the involved officers to emphasize survival. If this criterion cannot be met, he puts in a request for Jedi involvement, his own if possible, to reduce the likelihood of casualties. As for his personal assignments with the navy or the 104th Battalion, he makes certain the most dangerous tasks are his.
His approach to warfare, while congruous with Jedi values, has caused some feather-ruffling in his military circles, including among the clones themselves. Aside from eschewing their conventions, it flies in the face of their worldview. How many times have they told him, respectfully but insistently, “Don’t worry about us, General” or “This is what we were bred for”?
They are so different, he and the clones. He cannot treat them like fellow Jedi, who know their worth in the Force, who have mastered their strongest emotions and fears, who can interact meaningfully without words or touch. The distance and formality he thought appropriate to maintain early in his generalcy incurred a curious response over time. He sensed anxiety, disappointment, wistfulness in his men, although they never acknowledged it, as if he were falling short of an unknown standard or neglecting unspecified duties. Eventually, he understood: more than a sense of humor, more than respect, more than mindful stewardship or anything else he can provide, they desire connection. They are human beings after all, and young ones at that, with so few positive authority figures. Adapting has challenged him, but he has made their wellbeing a priority, so he strives to give more of himself each day.
The troopers who speak up in his presence, who relish conversation, he is intentional to engage. They always spring on the opportunity to be listened to, to be taken seriously, something apparently deprived of them on Kamino. The troopers who never fail to find his quiet places on the cruiser, he invites to meditate with him, and some of them do. A few seem genuinely interested in spirituality, whether for answers or comfort or guidance, and it warms his heart to share his faith with them and watch theirs grow. The off-duty pilots who loiter in the hangar while he tinkers with his fighter, he makes a habit of involving, which pleases them to no end. They will lie on the cold floor for hours, putting off sleep, to lend their expertise and chew the fat with him. And the quiet careworn commander with whom he works most closely, who stays beside him through everything yet holds him at arm’s length, he endeavors to uplift in any way he can.
So much is beyond his control. He cannot spare his men from all suffering, and already too many of them have perished on his watch. All he can do is trust the Force, with his life and theirs, and press onward. It is not just about living to fight another day. If the Force wills, he intends to see his men through the war, into a future of peace and freedom, into a life they have never known. It is a distant hope, but it lives close to his heart, and in it he finds strength.
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Plum Blossoms and Snowflakes | Plum Blossom 1
Akiomi: —Oh, hello there, Ayase-kun. Thank you for coming.
You were taking your time so I assumed you had already left the school for the day.
Mayoi: I’m so terribly sorry! I’m sorry for being late! I’m sorry for being an unsightly weirdo, I sweeear!
Akiomi: A weirdo…? Well, I would certainly consider your sudden outburst to be ‘weird’.
We're at fault for summoning you so abruptly, so don’t feel bad for taking a while. If anything, I’m glad you showed up at all.
The sooner that we can talk about this, the better.
Mayoi: It’s that urgent…? Aah, why did you call me here…?
Akiomi: Let’s continue this conversation in the staff room. This isn’t something we should discuss in the hallway.
Mayoi: I-I understand…
Location: Staff room, Akiomi's Desk
Akiomi: We want to propose a repeat of the year.
Mayoi: …? For who?
Akomi: You, Ayase-kun.
Mayoi: I see, so it’s for this ‘Ayase-kun’ person…
…
Mayoi: …Wait, huh!? That’s me!?
Akiomi: Correct. Granted, the decision hasn’t been set in stone yet.
But as it stands now, you will be repeating a year.
Mayoi: T-That sounds so definite…
Uhm, I understand that I didn’t attend school for a long time but shouldn’t the credits I earned from home-study be sufficient…?
It was enough for me to complete the grade in past years…
Akiomi: You’d be right, there’s no issue pertaining to your schoolwork. However, the new system has introduced another evaluation criteria…
Ayase-kun, you’re overwhelmingly lacking in regards to the number of days that you’ve participated in campus events.
Mayoi: Campus events…?
Akiomi: Like the name suggests, it refers to events held on the school grounds. Chocola Fes or Repayment Fes are some upcoming examples.
In the new system, idol activities are considered to be equally as important as schoolwork, so students are able to compensate for low credits by doing more jobs…
In an extreme case, a student could graduate off of idol work alone.
To prevent school-life from falling into a monotonous routine, we introduced an additional evaluation category pertaining to the participation of campus events.
That being said, the conditions are fairly loose. As long as you participate in events on a regular basis, it shouldn’t affect you. However…
Mayoi: I didn’t attend in-school classes until summer, so my overall participation is poor…
Akiomi: That is correct.
Mayoi: I-I see…
Uhm, I’m not sure how to respond.
Mayoi: I’ll do my best to graduate next year…
Akiomi: Next year…? You’re saying you’ve accepted repeating a grade?
Mayoi: Yes. With the time I have left, it wouldn’t be feasible for me to participate in enough school events.
I’ll be joining Chocola Fes with ALKALOID but that won’t be enough to put me in the clear.
It’s impossible for me to get myself out of this, so I’ll just have to do my best next year…
Akiomi: (Good grief. I knew this kid was pessimistic, but he’s so readily willing to accept his fate like this…)
(The entertainment industry is a cruel world. It’s not a place where you can live your life being coddled.)
(But…this boy is a student, and I am his teacher. As a beacon of guidance I should at least set him on the right path.)
(A lack of solution is likely what led him to give up.)
…It’s not impossible. We have measures set in place to help students in situations such as yours.
It would be rather sad to see a student fail to graduate because of the introduction of a new system.
Mayoi: There’s a way…?
Akiomi: There is. In order to meet the requirements to graduate, you’ll have to work on an individual assignment.
Mayoi: Individual…? Without ALKALOID, you mean…?
Akiomi: Yes. ALKALOID has been putting out exceptional work and the group has a strong sense of unity. There’s no problems to speak of there.
Ayase-kun, you’re often acting as a support within ALKALOID, yes?
That’s a wise role to undertake for your unit. In truth, your support has allowed the other members to grow and increase ALKALOID’s strength as a whole.
However, are you sure it’s beneficial to be devoting yourself to a backing part?
Won’t that pose a problem when you can’t bring yourself to stand on stage as a singular idol?
Mayoi: …
Akiomi: School is a place for students to receive an education and to increase their potential. With this preventative measure, you should see a development in your own growth too.
To begin, start off by seeking out some peers to form a temporary unit with.
Mayoi: A temporary unit…?
Akiomi: Yes. Look for people outside of ALKALOID, preferably ones you don’t interact with often, if possible.
I’ll need you to find a job and work together with your temporary unit to complete it. However, given the time of year, you may not be able to find a substantial project.
In that event, I ask that you hold an S3 Dream Fes.
Mayoi: You want me to form a temporary unit and complete a job…
Finding other members on its own will be terribly difficult. Would it even be possible for me to hold an S3?
And if I'm doing it with people I barely know—
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Lost Soul.
Today is the 3rd day seperated from my wife due to our current situations and our role responsibilties we had to live in different homeland.
We usually get along very well adoring teasing each other when we are together.
When we seperated, we too frequent having communications breakdown in disputes.
Mark 03.02.2024 married since 16.12.2022. Progessively things had changed, All seems soured and faded.
I myself understood the proccess that there is no such thing as Happy Ending other then Movies Fantasy.
We humans are vunerables to error, mistakes and negligence.
All of this are indeed a process to perfections.
Some are possesives, impulsives, naives, defensives and worst yet was narcisist.
I believes that every individuals had all this embed in characteristic. By moving forward facing challenges and obsticle we learned to grow by experiences by understanding socials factors.
However my current challenges was the greatest compared to the past i had walked.
I was trampled into Emotional Invalidations where i am lost in the middle of nowhere wondering worrying what will be our future? When we started walked alongside we both had most thing in commons like having visions to strived.
Today i had understood my assignment of being a husband. A visions you seeked should be yours alone not shared in companion. Caused the vision u had in planned was only a sections of her chapters.
Never placed to much hopes and be so hopeful for the things you believes that u could acheives. Caused the results might ended in disaapointment.
The pained and suffering of being Emotional Invalidations. I dont even know how to put into words or elaborates futher the suffering nobody to share or shoulder to leaned on other then her, the bombardment i took upon were undescrible. Where you sees everything started to shattered falls all over you crushing you down, besides the pained and suffering you endured in hopes u still failed to hate her other then missing her presences still cared for and love her, even in inconsistency.
While she implied no empathy towards her actions declining rejecting any of your thoughts in good will perspectives views or suggestions will revert back to your incompetency.
To those who are still single my advised, Live yourself, Love yourself first before giving others only when u can affords. Regardless in any needs and figures.
Loving is easy, sustaning harmony with each other in compesating understanding within the boundaries is not what you could have thought might be at your finger tips.
Never live in denials.
Signing Off
Jinx13
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👀👀 Heard someone mention Blue Bats........ My beloved.........
Yeah!! I wasn't expecting the vibes to be that strong and yet that chill at the same time...plus strategy wise they absolutely killed it, I'm still losing it trying to analyze how they won that Survival Games because MAN that was badass -
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Do you think referring to nonhuman animals as anything other than it/its or they/them might be bio essentialist and transphobic? I’ve been trying to work it out am not sure. The reason for wondering in the first place is because we all assign these gendered pronouns based on bio sex. Or “sex” given its constructed. And that just reinforces the idea you can assign gender based on looking at genitals. I hope in the future all babies are called they/them and presented with gender later so they can choose. With animals unless they can talk and relate to our cultures that will never happen. So they are forever it or they. That’s my reasoning
I'm going to assume this is a good faith question and not a TERF trying to gotcha me, but I will say it's very strange to approach a stranger (that you know is transgender) and engage them like this. If I were a trans person that wasn't educated in gender studies, this question would be difficult to answer, and may lead to confusion on the part of both parties. I am not openly an educator on these topics, these are my opinions.
I think the argument "we should use gender neutral terminology for animals" and "we should use gender neutral terminology for infants" are two wildly different topics of discussion. The reason why there is little legitimate discussion of animal pronouns in the popular imagination is because of two main reasons; gender is a social construct, and dysphoria is a social construct.
The idea that gender is seperate from sex (otherwise known as gender theory) emerged in the 80s, and I believe it accurately describes the human experience, being that I know transgender people, and I am myself a transgender person. It's a larger topic too big to tackle in this ask whether or not we would feel dysphoria or euphoria in a world without the concept of gendered separation and/or gender roles, but as is, gender theorists posit that the internal gender identity of a person does not necessarily match with their birth sex. The concept that sex was also a social construction didn't come about until later on, but I will address that later.
If we are to understand the construction of a gendered society as a collection of people in the same geographical location operating under the same social contract to, in theory, better themselves and the other people living in that society, then we can understand gender as something that is reinforced through language and action. To use english as my example, as the only language I'm familiar with, we have a set of pronouns each for "women" and "men," based on their capability to reproduce, and/or based on the role they fill in society. We additionally have a gender neutral set of pronouns we can use to refer to either a group or individual without indicating their capability to reproduce and/or the role they play in society. In this I am focussing mainly on these 3 pronouns, but neopronouns also have their own set of associations and characteristics.
Language, here, is all connotations - she/her is femininity, woman, submissive, mother, he/him is masculinity, man, dominant, provider, and they/them is neutral. However, this language falls apart when people like butch lesbians and femme boys, who may or may not identify as non-binary or transgender, use different pronouns than is expected of them, which we see most prominently during the 60s-90s. A butch may use he/him pronouns, work as a mechanic, have a cis femme wife or girlfriend, but still identify as a lesbian woman. Pronouns here do not indicate his capability to reproduce, as it is not relevant to his experience as a lesbian, but it may on some level indicate his role in society. He is masculine, works a service job, is acting as the butch to his wife's femme, and to many people may represent a form of masculinity most associated with men who use he/him pronouns.
When considering gender as something reinforced through action, we may observe how texts (used here to mean all forms of entertainment/knowledge that communicate meaning) have been used throughout all written history to create the idea of gender, to associate signs and signifiers to the experience of "woman" and "man" that create a gap between the two categories that is wider than a canyon. From infancy, different children are given different toys, wear different clothes, and have adults treat them differently - the way we currently treat our children has been shown in sociological studies to be extremely detrimental down the line, as it leads to dysphoria, bullying, and shame. The actions we take to reinforce the categories of gender - both within and without ourselves - creates an even bigger divide, especially within children's minds. That's why I do think raising children gender-neutrally and allowing them to choose their own identity as they grow would be a more ideal world - even moreso, the idea that children can change how they identify without backlash, allowing kids to play with and experience gender without negative repercussions.
The concept of language and action within a society does not apply to animals.
Every language has different pronouns, different words to use to describe and refer to people and objects, but the difference between people and animals is that we formed both shared languages, and the concept of gender - therefor, we also created gender euphoria/dysphoria. Humans have no way of accurately communicating with animals, no way of understanding if they have a shared form of language or communication, and therefor, no way of knowing how they would like to be referred to. But furthermore, animals don't care how we refer to them, because they both don't understand us, and have no concept of gendered expectations/shame. Your cat will not look at you any differently if you use he/him to they/them to fae/faeself pronouns. Even on the other side of the argument, to say "we should all refer to them with they/them or it/its pronouns exclusively" would not be correct, because if animals did have a constructed language and pronouns, they would not use the same pronouns we came up with.
Whatever pronouns you choose to use for your pet has a social connotations, not for them, but for you. Unfortunately, we still live in an emphatically gendered society, and people may treat you differently if you choose to use pronouns that "don't align with their sex," because unfortunately people are nosy and opinionated. The only context where pronouns for animals matter is in the context of veterinary care as a shorthand for what the animal's sex is. This is also ultimately imperfect, as sex is also a social construction, and each living creature, regardless of sex or gender, has a unique body and a unique experience of their sex and/or gender.
The english language in particular has failed to include a pronoun for an intersex individual pre-gender theory - even before we knew that gender =/= pronouns =/= sex, there is no clear 50/50 split line on what is a vagina and what is a penis, and for why you must use a particular set of pronouns to refer to a person with "either one". In animals as well, intersexuality is an observed and common phenomena, and there is no logical reason why we can still claim that there are 2 sexes, when there are over a dozen observed categories for genital development in relation to internal organs and sexual function. As someone with PCOS myself, there are many gender theorists talking about how PCOS aligns on the intersex spectrum, as there are hormone levels that affects internal, external, and secondary sex characteristic development in AFAB individuals.
We can't boil down sex or gender into neat categories, and if we can't even listen to and respect our differently sexed and gendered minorities, expecting people to use gender-neutral language towards animals as a social priority is distracting from the people who are actually affected by society's gendered language and actions. I promise an animal does not and cannot care if you misgender it, but a human person will. The only circumstance where pronouns that align with the animal's sex may be useful is in a veterinary context, but even that can be reductive. Ultimately, if it makes you more comfortable to use gender neutral language for animals, I think you should follow that through. What I don't agree with is comparing the plight of gender diverse human beings to animals that are incapable of caring of how we refer to them. It is not transphobic to refer to animals with any pronoun because they do not care, I promise.
Also, you should buy me a kofi for making me spend half an hour writing this.
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About ATLA Relationship Arcs
So, this is me, finally trying to write some meta after lurking in my little tumblr corner for months! Hi!
Although I’ve tried to tag properly, if you are a Kat*anger and just want to enjoy your favourite couple in peace, this might not be the post for you. I am not trying to bash characters but I do have a lot of critical stuff to say about the writing.
Anyway, you have been warned and here is my story about my personal first Atla experience: I watched the show this year for the first time, and after the end of Book 1 I decided to look up spoilers, because after what happened to Yue, I wanted to make sure that Zuko and Iroh would be ok. So I knew what was going to happen: Kat*ang endgame and absolutely no Zutara at all. Still, by the end of Book 3, I was convinced that I had read wrong - that there would be an epilogue with a different ending or at least that Aang would only get together with Katara post-show- in that Korra series or something - because anything else wouldn’t make sense- right?
….
After I got over my shock and surprise, I went online and found out about that decade-long aggressive passionate ship war and how even the showrunners got involved.
And then I really worried that I might have missed a few points. Apparently ”Aang and Katara were the DNA of the show”, according to the creators themselves, and “Zutara could never have happened”.
Another popular anti-ZK argument I found was: Why do you always go on about Katara and Zuko? Just look at Zuko and Aang! They are the hero/ anti-hero and each other’s foils, their relationship is much more meaningful!”
So I tried to find out what it was that I apparently couldn’t see.
(Another disclaimer: I love analysing stories (like many Zutarians apparently) and this will get long and rambly. If you get bored to tears when people start talking about “narrative structure” you will probably not like this.)
Talking about narrative structure, I do believe that, in order to let your story, your characters and their relationships really shine, a good basic structure is important. There should be a recognizable development and individual parts of the story that build upon each other and lead to consequences and change, until there is a completed arc - because it is all about the journey that takes you to a satisfying ending, right? So that’s what I tried to do, with my personal Kat*ang vs. Zutara take, I tried to look at the structure and development of their relationship arcs.
The argument that threw me off track for a while is that compared to Aang and Zuko, Zuko and Katara’s relationship is not supposed to be that relevant for the plot. After all, Zuko is the foil, the anti-hero, the deuteragonist to Aang, who is the hero protagonist.
This is all true of course. But then why is it that in every finale, Zuko’s main opponent (and later ally) is not Aang but Katara? Why is it that their sun/moon, red/blue, fire/water dichotomy is so obviously highlighted?
I think one reason why Zuko and Katara are paired off so frequently in the story - as opposite elements, as opponents and as allies - is that they BOTH are Aang’s deuteragonists. While Zuko also acts as antagonist and Aang’s foil/mirror, Katara takes over the more traditional deuteragonist role of confidant / best friend/ narrator.
Protagonist Aang is what connects them, although they are on opposite sides: Both need Aang because he represents their hope to save their world. Very simply put, Katara protects him, so he can make the world a safer place again, and Zuko wants to capture him, so he can go home and be safe again. That rivalry between them is already established in the first episode, even before they meet each other: Katara, who hopes that the Avatar will return (as she tells everyone in the intro), and Zuko, who seems to be obsessed with finding him for more sinister reasons.
And just to make sure, I am not talking here about the characters’ feelings and emotions! This is just about the abstract roles they have been assigned within the narrative.
When regarding Zutara’s special connection to Aang and their rivalry with each other, it makes absolute sense to stress their “same but different”ness as well, visually and metaphorically: Red and blue, fire and water, sun and moon, arguably Painted Lady/Blue Spirit, and, when you put into account their story arc, also Oma and Shu.
With this basis, which puts them together and sets them apart simultaneously, their relationship already becomes very dynamic and interesting, even before you consider any romantic potential.
And here’s another thing, Zuko and Katara also have their own story arc within the main plot. Although they don’t have many scenes together before Zuko joins the Gaang, when they do meet there is always a new shift in their relationship and in quite a few cases their interactions are important for the main plot as well. If you just look at their “end fights” at each book’s finale, there is an obvious and consequential build-up, like any decent story arc should have:
Book 1 starts with Zuko as the powered-up enemy and Katara as the weak newbie waterbender. Both are battling over Aang. At the end of Book 1, they are finally established as equally powerful fighters but still fundamentally different (You rise with the moon, I rise with the sun!)
In CoD at the end of Book 2 happens the next step: they realize that they are not different at all! But Aang still doesn’t represent the same for them and they end up on opposing sides of the war again.
In the Book 3 finale, when Zuko has completed his own (anti-) hero's journey and Aang represents the same “hope” for both of them, they do not only join forces: Their “same but different”- traits make them such a uniquely suited match that they are even able to save each other’s lives during their fight with Azula (who in turn happens to be Katara and Zuko’s antagonist/mirror/foil).
And in addition to their own story arc they even get an individual recurring theme, which also appears in every book whenever their relationship status changes: The lost mothers, especially Katara’s mother.
In Book 1, Katara’s necklace (the symbol of Kiya) plays not only a major part in two of Zuko’s capture attempts, it is the reason for their very first one-one one encounter in the story.
Their first friendly connection in COD in Book 2 happens because they start talking about their mothers. And in Book 3, their final reconciliation (sealed with a very cathartic hug) happens after their life-changing trip which is, of course, all about Katara’s mother.
Again, I am not even trying to analyse their characters and motivations within the story - there are many metas that have already done that much better, more detailed and with screenshots. This is just dry structure and tropes and themes. But I think people recognize and connect with a well-structured arc, even subconsciously, which is one of the reasons that makes Zutara such a compelling couple. They complete and contrast each other, their relationship dynamic constantly changes, builds up, falls apart, reconnects. Such a setup is the perfect playground for a lot of creative takes on what-ifs and alternative scenarios and of course, shipping them romantically is extremely tempting - think of all the possibilities! It’s no wonder that the Zutara fandom is still so active decades after the end of the show. And it’s also no wonder that the Zutarians are known for “over-analysing everything”. You can only over-analyse if there is anything that gives you enough food to analyse to begin with. Which brings me to
KAT*ANG
I just go right to the top and take the quote from Br*yke themselves:
Kata*ng was in the DNA of the thing from the start…. [Zutara] was just dark and intriguing.
If you read this quote and then start watching the show, I would (grudgingly) agree that:
Aang and Katara understand and complement each other really well. Aang gives her the chance to have fun and go on adventures and in turn, Katara is his fiercest supporter from the very beginning, something that he really needs after he lost all his people AND has to find out that the world thinks the war is sort of his fault. In turn, the journey to the North Pole is as important to Katara as it is to Aang, because it is her dream to learn waterbending properly. That’s what she literally says when Sokka & Co try to banish Aang: (Sokka: Where do you think you’re going? Katara: To find a waterbender. Aang is taking me to the North Pole.) In that way, they are friends who give and take equally and are equally taken care of. They even have the last Airbender/ last Southern Waterbender status that connects them. The few times they have a fight, Aang does something in the end to redeem himself (perform some heroic feat) and Katara sees that she is right to believe in him.
Aang has this very sweet crush on her and it will be very sweet and wholesome when Katara will return his feelings at the end of their adventure after he has hit puberty. On the other side, there is also some heavy shipbaiting with Zuko: I save you from the pirates. The betrothal necklace. June and her excellent shipping taste. But in the end they are enemies, they barely know each other and, come on, it would be too dark and intriguing! There is no real threat against friends to lovers Kat*ang, the soft heart of the story. It’s very straightforward and there are a lot of simple “the hero saves the day” scenes for Aang but that’s fine! It’s not really my kind of ship but that’s not the point, it works for the story they want to tell.
End of Book 1.
In my - probably harsh- opinion, everything you really need to know about the Kat*ang relationship has been told by this point. If you want to be really mean, already by Book 1, episode 3.
That explains maybe why many (not all! but many) pro-KA arguments sound as if their shippers have not watched Book 2 and 3 at all. The Book 1 synopsis also perfectly sums up Bry*ke’s quote above. But then Book 2 and 3 are still there and I don’t know what happened but it seems as if they somehow decided that the Kat*ang story does not need any new and lasting input. Maybe because they were afraid that too much new development and change would stray too far away from their original Kat*ang vision. But there are still 2 more books and more adventures and Kat*ang somehow has to be kept apart until the finale.
So the tension in their potential romance is based largely on the question whether or not Katara will return Aang’s feelings. In general I don’t have a problem with that will-she-won’t she-technique. It works well in books where the love interest is not a POV or in shows/ movies where the love interest is not one of the main characters. But Katara is not only the female lead but also arguably the narrative voice of the whole story! As a result, this kind of writing makes Katara look as if she doesn’t have any agency in their relationship, which is not surprisingly a very popular anti-KA criticism.
Additionally, since her dream - learning waterbending - has been fulfilled by the end of Book 1, the relationship work becomes a bit one-sided. Of course Aang is the hero and his journey is the heart of the story. But in order to highlight their special connection it would have helped to give Katara another personal agenda, which Aang could have supported in some way. She is still the last Southern Waterbender and he the Last Airbender but this is not really explored in the Kat*ang relationship. And her other personal agenda, her mother, is already reserved for the Zutara arc.
Instead, in Book 2 and 3 the Kat*ang story is somehow all over the place. Of course there is new conflict and a few romantic scenes as well. But obstacles are either introduced too late or just dropped when not needed anymore, conflict is not resolved and their flirty, romantic moments never lead anywhere- and if they do, they lead to more conflict that is not resolved (yes, I am looking at you, EIP Kiss!).
Take for example Katara’s very sudden argument that they cannot be together now because there is a war going on. We hear her saying that for the first time in the very last episode (EIP) before the 4-part finale. That is too late to have any impact! That she has these kinds of thoughts was never even alluded to before. Not once.
Or the pattern Aang runs away/ is flaky - Katara is upset - Aang comes back and does his hero thing - Katara is relieved. In regards to their relationship arc, nothing changes here between Book 1 and the finale, only the stakes for Aang’s heroic performances get higher.
Or Katara being the one who is able to calm Aang down when he cannot control the Avatar state (which, in my personal opinion, is neither romantic nor healthy). This is also connected to the problem with the seventh Chakra, that Aang needs to let go of his attachment for her. I will be angry forever with how they wasted this for a possible relationship development! That Aang has to decide to either do his duty or save his forever girl (because let’s be fair, he did try to let go and only ran when he had the vision of Katara in danger) - that’s a fantastic setup!
But no, it doesn’t have any real consequences for Kat*ang at all. Instead there were only half-baked attempts – Aang does lie about his failed practice with Guru Pathik but the ultimate reason why his chakra is blocked is Azula, not his decision to run. Aang does try to let go of Katara for a little bit but then Azula shoots him. Nothing in Book 3 shows any change in his feelings that could have been a result of his instant let-it-go. If anything, he gets weirdly obsessive - which could have been used as a side effect of his blocked chakra but – again, no, nothing happens.
I suspect the whole thing was just introduced to create temporary drama for poor Aang, but it is never explained why Katara holds him back, what aspect of the attachment is blocking him or what would happen if he did let her go. Maybe they tried to make a statement about how love is more important than Avatar rules – which would have been fine but it’s also never properly explored. Instead, as soon as that plot point becomes inconvenient it’s simply dropped like a random rock™.
Compare all that to the Zutara arc, where both characters’ feelings about each other are always very much in the open, and where every interaction causes lasting effects in their relationship. Yes, it is unfair to compare that to Kat*ang, because up to the end of Book 3, Zuko and Katara almost never meet, while Aang and Katara spend almost every episode together – of course they cannot do meaningful things all the time. But on the other side, with Kat*ang, there would have been a great chance to show a subtle, gradual build-up instead.
It also doesn’t help that the Zutara arc seems hellbent on sabotaging every romantic moment Aang is allowed to enjoy:
There is Kat*angs first maybe-kiss in the dark before the background of the Oma and Shu legend. But it does not lead anywhere. Instead, Zuko and Katara almost reenact the legend itself in the Book 2 finale as two real enemies to almost-friends, including a glowy rocks-backdrop and the right costume colours, just so nobody misses the message.
In Footloose The Headband, Aang and Katara have a really sweet dance together, and everybody can see how they almost intuitively know each other's moves. This could be a great hint on how well they will fight together in the finale. But is it plot-relevant? No, because the final tag team is Katara and Zuko! While Aang gets paired off with random rock™.
Then there is Aang’s riding off to battle- kiss in DotBS, which Katara is not even allowed to enjoy, because keeping her feelings vague is apparently more important than character development at this point. It is the only romantic moment that gets mentioned again, but in a way that sinks the former cute and wholesome ship into the deep ocean, and the reason is - Aang is jealous of Zuko!
If all of this was only done for the sake of shipbaiting, then it really went out of control at some point.
In the end, the showrunners still had their reasons to choose Kat*ang, maybe because that corresponded more to their own vision, and there are still enough people out there who agree with them. Which is absolutely fine! In the end, what matters most is how you personally connect to the characters and nobody needs to defend their personal taste. But the typical anti-ZK claim, that all the Zutarians with their crazy analysis and rambling meta essays are reaching and delusional and that they desperately try to construct something that isn’t there, is not only a very lazy argument but simply not true.
And I’d claim that in spite of the canon choice, Zutara is technically the better written relationship. By far.
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— beck and call
pairings : yelena / fem reader
word count : 10.2k
tags : one-sided relationship, lowkey master / servant dynamic, eventual smut, mild body worship, dom / sub undertones, power imbalance
warnings : contains nsfw, mildly dub-con at some points, yelena being physically rough w you for disobedience
summary : serving as yelena's personal guard turned out to yield many unexpected consequences.
to say that you were unnerved by the task of guarding an anti-marleyan volunteer would be an understatement.
you hadn't quite digested the fact there even existed a world beyond the walls that had towered over you for your entire life, looming high in the sky like a reminder that you would be trapped, penned like an animal for the rest of your prospective future. that had been your initial motivation to become a soldier, to at least advance to a garrison position where you could have a taste of exclusive information regarding what lay beyond the stone and metal bearings. but in the final year of your basic training, everything had changed. there were talks of outlandish things, of traitors from another land that had hidden amongst the native people, talks of islands and foreign soil and something more than the confines of the walls.
upon graduating, you had ultimately chosen the scouting legion, seeing how the garrison was quickly being disbanded and the remaining soldiers that hadn't stepped into their early days of retirement were joining the aforementioned regiment. the benefits only seemed to become greater and greater with the extinction of titans, the whispers of allies and retribution and rebuilding a lost legacy of your people. but somehow, all that novel luster had become muted, completely darkened by the imposing presence of this singular individual seated before you. you had only been debriefed on their name and role in military operations before your assignment, leaving you worryingly unprepared for arguably the most important assignment of your career.
the sound of your name passing from your squad leader's lips grounded you, the formal introduction quickly drawing to a close as he relayed the information to the striking foreigner. "she will be your personal escort for the remainder of your stay. if you have any questions regarding the island, feel free to ask her at any time."
"wonderful." their voice was rich, smooth with confidence and underlined with something unfamiliar—it was the way their lips rounded out the first syllable, or perhaps the way they spoke from the depths of their throat.
you felt your back stiffen as they rose from their seat, somehow rising taller and taller, their stature reaching much higher than anyone you'd ever met. immediately, your right hand clamped into a fist, thudding over your heart as your left arm hooked behind your back, spitting out your full name and designation just as you had while saluting hundreds of times. "i'm incredibly grateful for this opportunity to occupy you. thank you for all that you and the volunteers have done for paradis."
you were shocked that your voice hadn't quivered with the way their eyes dragged down your body, grey and barren of any emotion besides a hint of intrigue, sharp features framed by short, fair hair. they were strikingly handsome, masculine yet feminine at the same time, an indiscernible sort of beauty that perplexed and enthralled you.
"no need to thank me, soldier." whether they were assuring or commanding you, you didn't know, only cognizant of how they nearly purred out your title. swallowing, you lowered your hands, standing at ease and forcing yourself to not look to your superior for encouragement.
"then i shall show you to your lodgings. please follow me."
you forced yourself to turn your back to them and take a step, then another, mentally counting them one by one until you reached the door. you could hear their heavy footfalls following behind you, the distance steadily beginning to close until you forced your own pace to quicken. on the silent walk out of the management building, you had found a speed that worked, one long stride of theirs equaling two of yours, leaving you straining to keep a comfortable yet polite space between the both of you. you risked a glance back, having to crane your head up to catch a glimpse of their face. they had been staring idly at the back of your head, meeting your eyes when you turned to briefly face them, the moment cut short by your own haste to fix your view back onto the path before you.
"how shall i address you?" you attempted to fill the cool void of discomfort that had suddenly settled in the air around you, shoulders tense and brow taut.
"anything works."
their answer offered nothing in return to your inquiry, the faint image of their face flitting across your mind. you hadn't looked at them long enough to commit their features to memory, but you had looked enough to remember their startlingly cold eyes, angular nose and full lips, sharp jaw and heavy brow.
"m-miss yelena?" you attempted, fighting the urge to nervously fidget or give away any sign of your unease.
"if it suits you." was their final reply before the two of you fell silent once again.
the lack of discussion persisted through the remainder of the journey, the only sounds occupying the space being the fall of your boots against the ground and the jingle of your keyring that you drew from your pocket to unlock the front door. you stood aside to hold it open as she walked in, feeling an odd sensation flutter in the pit of your stomach when she had to duck under the frame to enter. the housing itself wasn't extravagant, only a single open room with a desk, bookshelf, dresser, kitchenette, bed, and a small bathroom area to the side to occupy the space, the ceiling seeming much lower than it was due to yelena's formidable height. she looked out at the room, flicking a stray lock of hair out of her eyes, face neutral and inexpressive.
"how quaint," she turned to face you, a prick of unease making your posture pin-straight once again, "is there any reason they've put us volunteers away from the main soldier barracks?"
your mind suddenly went blank at the worst of times, unknowing of the exact answer but knowing you had to over something in response. "s-simply for your comfort. we wouldn't like it to seem as if we don't trust you to stay on your own."
"ah, so considerate of you." for the first time she smiled, a barely-there tilt at the corner of her lips that made your heart stutter, "then i'll be sure to make myself at home."
she stepped slowly over to the bookshelf, dragging her fingers over the backs of the books with an apparent interest. you stayed standing where you were, unsure if you should leave then or wait a bit longer for just the right moment. something about her presence was unnerving, but there was also an undeniable allure that you almost gravitated to, despite her being a stranger.
"do you need anything else?" you piped up, letting your hands link behind your back, fingers twisting together.
"not that i can think of." each word seemed scripted, as if she'd practiced this entire conversation a dozen times before it'd ever happened.
"then i'll be on my way." you shakily smiled in an attempt to seem put together, hoping that she didn't immediately see through the weak front, "i'll be back in a couple of hours to escort you to dinner."
you bowed and took your leave, almost desperate to escape her all-consuming gaze and find refuge outside her line of sight. but even after you'd shut the door behind you and stepped off the porch, well on your way down the path you'd taken, you could still feel how her eyes had examined every fine detail of your stance, analyzing every shift and subtle movement you made with a calculating look. deep down, you already knew that this position would be completely exhausting from the get-go.
─── · 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
you had fulfilled your typical nightly routine—fetch yelena from her quarters to escort her to the cafeteria, go your separate ways and sit at your usual tables after getting food, finish your dinner with five minutes to spare in the dining hour to go inform yelena that it was time for her to wrap up her meal so you could take her back. she'd followed you down the usual path, now lit with newly placed street lamps that turned on after the sun sunk below the horizon and night fell. there had been nothing out of the ordinary, aside from the way the volunteer table had eyed you with a formerly absent intrigue when you came to speak to yelena.
that comfortable distance you'd kept between the two of you had slowly been narrowing over the last few days, a development which had peaked both your curiosity and your anxiety. while you still kept yourself a few paces ahead of her, you could feel how close her presence had become, an almost physical weight that settled itself over your back and urged you to walk faster and faster to escape its grasp. but you knew that she was all too good at reading your body language, somehow having familiarized herself with even the finest idiosyncrasies that incriminated you in just about a month, an understanding that had only grown deeper as more and more time had passed. although you felt as if you'd gained the upper hand for a few days when you realized that she always let a bit of emotion slip in her large, ashen eyes when you said something just enough out of the ordinary to catch her interest, any progress you thought you'd made was quickly squandered by her own advancements. today was no different, another morning and afternoon filled with dodging the occasional pervasive question from her about the simplest of things.
were you an only child? had you been closer to your mother or father when you were younger? did you join the scouts to explore the world or because you simply found no value in living out your life doing something different? they had started out with an ambiguous end-goal, but slowly evolved into even more unprofessional matters—attempts to provoke a discussion about your love life, what you might look for in a prospective partner, whether you wanted to settle down after you retired or stay unattached for the remainder of your life.
you always dodged, and she always let up for a while, lulling you into a sense of safety that was always broken by that same question again, worded differently but asking for an answer that was the same as the last. the more you ran from her company, the more she seemed to push it upon you, pleased when you would slip up and get flustered when she caught you off guard. so you held your ground this evening, even when your fingers quivered at the realization that she was practically peering over your shoulder, watching you unlock the door to her quarters with just barely enough space separating you to not feel her breath fanning down the back of your neck.
you quickly opened the door and began moving to hold it open for her like you always did, but felt a large hand resting at your shoulder, prompting you to quickly spin on your heel to face her. she was usually finished with her casual interrogating by this hour, which was why you were more than surprised to see that she was staring down at you, having lowered yourself to your level enough for you to not have to tilt your head completely back to meet her eye.
you took an instinctive step back, flinching at the sound of the door falling shut behind you, effectively caging you in between it and the woman before you. pale, dangerously alert irises traversed your expression, drinking in every small feature that had been drawn back into a confused look, stomach already knotting into a twisted tangle of warmth and icy panic.
"are you afraid of me?"
the immediate answer sat on the tip of your tongue, lips parting to deliver the lie you had ready for such an inquiry. but something in her eyes spoke to you, silently, warning you not to give into dishonesty. you couldn't possibly admit to still being fearful of her, not when you were meant to be the powerful one in this relationship. you weren't supposed to say yes, but you also found yourself unable to lie as you always did, not when the path you'd walked with her was still worryingly empty and you felt the hard wood of the door now pressing unforgivingly into your back with each minuscule step back.
"sh-should i be?" you cursed your stammer, betraying your evident lack of control, the only redeeming aspect being the non-committal implication that responding with another question held.
that seemed to throw her off a bit, owlish eyes slowly blinking at you as she thought. even up close like this, you couldn't identify a single flaw in her appearance—pale skin smooth like porcelain, unconcerned by any sort of natural imperfections, hair like fine silk and eyes piercingly bright, yet clouded like a stormy sky. you squeaked at a hand seizing your collar, right hand instinctively flying down to the scabbard strapped around your thigh, clammy palm shakily clenching around the hilt of your blade, the other clamping firmly around her wrist.
she only smirked at the presumed threat, pressing herself even closer to you, enough that you could feel the radiant heat of her lips just barely grazing your own. you suppressed the trembling threatening to shake through your every limb, beginning to feel lightheaded with the effort to contain your quickening breaths, swallowing down your dread, forcing yourself to meet her gaze when she spoke.
"if it suits you. it doesn't affect me either way, does it?"
you just barely shook your head side to side, not realizing you were rising up onto your tiptoes until she pulled you forward that last inch by your shirt, eyes falling shut as her lips melded easily against yours. an inexplicable warmth flourished in your chest, heart tripping up to match the frantic speed of your thoughts, fingers clenching around her slender, clothed wrist. you forced yourself back with a sharp intake of breath, backing yourself far enough into the door that you could feel the wood digging into the small of your back.
"m-miss yelena, you can't—!"
she didn't allow you to finish, tugging you back to your previous position with a low huff, the faint snap of a stitch popping somewhere on your collar going unregarded as you let out a small noise of surprise, wide eyes relenting and squeezing shut. a voice in the back of your mind screamed for you to draw your knife, push her away, force her into her quarters, anything but just standing there and allowing her to exert such a humiliating power over you. but it was so much easier to sink into her grasp, to feel her fingers slowly relax and hold you at a comfortable height rather than force you up, to allow the hot flush of an unknown intimacy to settle deep into your skin.
you'd been kissed before, it wasn't as if she stole your first chance from you, but it had never been like this. you had only brushed the surface of gentle pecks and lingering hands on the other's face until you both giggled and pulled away, never faced with such a certain confidence that almost frightened you more than it allured you, an unspoken order that left you at her mercy rather than on equal footing. and though you'd all but forgotten about your initial rejection, yelena had not, chastising you with a firm bite to your lower lip that drew a less-than-composed whimper from the back of your throat.
"i would advise you to not dictate what i can and cannot do in the future." she stated firmly, tone devoid of any personal inflection, barely pulling away enough for you to meet her stare, hand tightening around your collar once more, "understood?"
"y-yes, miss yelena." you barely whispered, nodding affirmatively. a flicker of amusement momentarily lightened her expression when you drew your tongue over the aching skin of your lips, the taste of faint copper and black tea clinging to your taste buds.
she slowly slackened her grip, not even so much as blinking as she straightened her posture and reached past you to open the door, allowing you a moment to scamper out of her path and pull your shirt back into place with trembling hands. "then, you are dismissed, soldier."
she didn't spare you a second glance before proceeding into her quarters, shutting the door behind her without another word. you stood dumbly for a moment, licking over your bottom lip once more, just then realizing how shallow and quick your breathing was. you steadied yourself enough to lock her door, shaking away the mental fog of such an abrupt change of scenery, pulling your jacket tighter around you to make up for the lack of her warmth pressing into you, confused as to why you had just allowed yourself to be ordered around by the individual that you were meant to be keeping in check. the walk back to your dorm was blurry at best, a few good-nights from your colleagues that prompted a hum of acknowledgement, thankfully nothing that required you to recount your daily fulfilled duties or anything past a few minutes prior.
even after you'd shed your clothes, pointedly ignoring how wrinkled your shirt front had become, cleaned yourself up and crawled into the isolated comfort of your bed, you found yourself unable to sleep. perhaps you could learn from this experience, remind yourself at all times to put even more distance between the two of you. maybe you would have to stop conversing with her so casually, or perhaps your best option would be to cut your losses and request an assignment change, consequences or record mark-ups be damned. but as you tossed and turned on your mattress, burying your face into your pillows and trying to rid your skin of any memory of her touch, a voice at the back of your head ceaselessly murmured, a rambled premonition of more turbulence to come.
─── · 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
this day marked five weeks since the initial incident, there had been no activity like it since—although you couldn't say whether you thought that was a bad thing or not. not to say that you hadn't been keeping your distance, the first few days were spent cautiously looking over your shoulder, making sure to keep her even further than arm's length but still close enough to guarantee that she couldn't slip away on her own. she behaved respectfully enough, although she herself seemed to be acting as if nothing had even happened, greeting you like normal and allowing you to escort her to meals and strategy meetings when necessary, despite how she'd affirmed that you weren't to give her any orders.
you hadn't reported the infraction to any superiors, knowing that you would get caught up in an unnecessary fuss that might even get you stuck at the bottom of the ranking list once again, an unthinkable outcome that only made you sure that the right decision was to keep your mouth shut. the previous afternoon was the first time yelena had made a special request, describing how unfortunate it was that she was lacking just a few proper amenities that would really make her lodgings "feel just like home". your persistent hesitance had eased after the first week of safety, and you fulfilled your responsibility of maintaining her comfort by arriving early this morning, toting a small bag of a dark ground powder and cups.
you were surprised to see that yelena was already awake upon your arrival, seated at a table that looked far too small for her, reading one of the many books from her provided bookshelf. you exchanged polite greetings, her not rising from her place until you'd lit the fire beneath the stove and set out a plate and cup for her at the counter, stowing away the rest in whatever free space you could find. you stood by while she took care of making whatever it was she wanted herself, noting the fragrant richness that had filled the air upon her steeping the powder in heated water.
"they only serve black tea in the cafeteria," she said, speaking to no one in particular, plucking a ladle from the utensil rack, "it's been ages since i had a cup of coffee in the morning."
the heat of the stove was beginning to warm the room, prompting you to shed your jacket and place it on the back of the chair yelena had not been previously seated at. your shirt beneath it was more forgiving, a thin material that had always hung a bit loosely from your shoulders, great for the hotter days when you were still expected to be in uniform.
"have you ever had a cup of coffee?" her voice interrupted your meandering stream of thought, the sound of liquid being poured into a cup faintly catching your attention.
"no, i don't think i have."
"would you like to try some?"
the offer stoked the spark of bothersome curiosity, the scent filling the air and mingling with the ambient sound of crackling wood and the feel of the hot air making you want to accept. perhaps this was her way of making amends, or just doing something pleasant for the worker that she was made to follow behind like their second shadow.
"if it's not too much trouble, then.."
"of course it isn't."
you felt a light sweat beginning to bead down your back, pulling your handkerchief from your pocket and dabbing at your neck. this space wasn't properly suited for a stove to be used, seeing as the unlatching mechanisms on the window had been removed for the sake of thwarting any sort of curfew breaking by the volunteers, meaning there was little ventilation aside from the small chimney extending out of the kitchenette area. you stole a glance at yelena, now opening the cabinet that you had strained to reach with ease.
the memory of her hand fisting your shirt, the collar that now hugged just the slightest bit looser at the base of your neck, the long healed-over bite that had left the soft flesh of your lips feeling raw for the following few days. the external heat of the still burning stove was only intensified by the flush climbing up to your cheeks, the desire to release a button or two on your shirt and free some of your skin to the open air becoming undeniable. it felt a bit ironic that the one time you'd properly stepped into her quarters for more than a quick minute to help her get something sorted was the one time the tension that always hung in the air between the two of you was replaced by something tangibly suffocating, the sweltering heat that made you kick off your blankets in the dreary silence at night when the recollection of her kiss relentlessly looped in your mind and chased away any thought of sleep.
you hooked a finger on the collar of your shirt, gently tugging it to the side to absentmindedly press the soft cloth over the skin, wiping away any bothersome perspiration that would leave you uncomfortable by the time you were allowed to change out of your uniform and shower it away.
"what's that?" your eyes darted up at her question, catching sight of the two plated teacups in her hands before you met her gaze.
"i beg your pardon?" you asked meekly.
"that. at your shoulder." you glanced down to where your handkerchief had previously been.
"oh, do you mean this?" she nodded when you pointed to the raised line of skin marring your shoulder, a thick scar that you'd stopped fussing over after realizing that it was an inevitable outcome. "it's a scar," you clarified, tucking your personal cloth back in your pocket, "just about everyone in the military has the same one."
she didn't respond, but held your gaze as she proceeded to the table to set the cups down. you'd become more accustomed to these silent requests, and you knew that she was telling you to continue.
"you work with the equipment engineers, right?" she nodded. "then you've seen our harnesses. all those leather straps end up digging into our skin and leaving scars pretty much all over. although, i did practice on the omnidirectional gear a bit more than all the other recruits during basic training to increase my proficiency, so mine may be deeper.."
you tensed as she approached, slow, deliberate steps steadily closing the distance between the two of you until she was right in front of you. she had started stooping down more often around you, only when she was directly addressing you alone, but it was something that you noticed all the same. a part of you wanted to feel offended, that she thought it necessary to lower yourself to your level as if you were beneath her in a way besides physical stature, but you couldn't deny that you enjoyed the exclusive treatment. she never seemed concerned with doing any sort of thing with anyone else—not with her colleagues, not with other soldiers of or below your ranking, not with any of your own superiors, only you. in a way, it made you feel acknowledged.
"could i see?"
"huh?" was your unprofessional response, but she didn't allow you any time to correct it.
"your scars. where else do you have them?"
"oh." you swallowed, forcing yourself to look up into her steely eyes, "well, i have them on the soles of my feet, and around my thighs, mostly around my torso."
a hand on your abdomen made your back go stiff, her touch pressing lightly over your shirt. "here?"
you nodded, small and timid before her, a trickle of sweat beginning to slide down your back. you realized that you had never had to look down at yelena, not until this present moment where she had knelt down on one knee in front of you, holding your gaze for just a moment before she undid a single button from the bottom of your shirt, glancing up at you as if to check for any sign of refusal before she undid another, then another.
there was nothing forceful about her motions today, nimble fingers patiently unfastening each clasp with care until your shirt revealed your midsection. one slender hand pulled aside the cotton fabric, the other reaching out, just barely grazing the skin of your stomach where the long, pale scar from your utility belt stretched horizontally across your body. her fingertips were warm from handling the kitchenware, but the shiver that crawled up your spine was cold, almost electric, a strange sensation squeezing around your heart and lungs, making each breath quicker than the last.
"was it painful?" she asked quietly, a tinge of earnesty lining her words, features entirely relaxed as they always were.
you let out a breath you didn't know you'd been holding, voice barely reaching a whisper. "yes."
she focused her eyes onto the marred skin, following the raised line of flesh to your sides, brow cinching upwards the slightest bit at the sight of another carving down your waist, following the curvature of your ribs.
"what resilience.." she murmured, free hand returning to undo the remaining buttons of your shirt, "determination is such a beautiful trait, don't you think?" her eyes flitted up to meet yours, sharp and observant, fingers gingerly wrapping around your waist, thumb stroking down your lumbar. "for most, i have to hear it in their voice, or through their words—but it has always been different with you." she pulled a button free. "i see it in your eyes, the way you carry yourself, it's written all over your body." another undone button, you could feel the warmth of her breath fanning across your stomach, the graze of her fingertips tracing up your side and halting at the cloth wrappings over your breasts. "are there more under this?"
your knees felt a few flattering words away from buckling, each gentle touch making the fine hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. you nodded, lips parting to take in a much-needed deep breath, realizing that your shirt was now completely open, exposing the entirety of your scarred torso aside from what remained covered by your chest bindings. your fingers curled into your palm, trembling, just then noticing how soft yelena's hands were in comparison to your own, absent of callous and work-roughened skin. you bit at the inside of your cheek, blinking down at her as you watched a thin finger trace the seam of the cloth, finding the tucked end within moments and gently pulling it free.
a few loud knocks at the door were startling enough to make you jump, head snapping to the side to face the front of the house, a muffled call of your last name from the other side making an anxious knot twist painfully tight deep in your gut. you quickly stepped away, leaving yelena kneeling on the floor, struggling to button up your shirt without even bothering to fix your chest cloth. as soon as you'd gotten yourself situated, you opened the door to find your squad leader awaiting you on the other side.
"is everything alright? breakfast started five minutes ago."
you hoped that the disbelief on your face could be taken as the expression of someone who had simply lost track of time. "i apologize, sir! m-miss yelena put in a request for marleyan coffee yesterday, and i was simply waiting for her to finish before i escorted her to the cafeteria."
you forced yourself to stay composed, trying to focus on the impassive face of your squad leader. there was a stark difference between the emotionlessness of yelena and that of everyone else around you, she somehow made her lack of any sort of feeling or warmth a beautiful kind of coldness, unlike the unnatural stoicism of your superiors. you saw his mouth open to reply, but you were both surprised by a sudden presence behind you, a firm hand at your shoulder, his eyes moving from looking down at you to looking up at the woman behind you, a flicker of genuine unease flitted across his hardened features.
"please don't fault her for my lack of punctuality," she said, a false sincerity lightening her usual low tone, "i simply wanted to enjoy a taste of home, is all. is my presence imperative?"
"i was only making sure everyone was accounted for." your squad leader asserted, staring up at her in an obvious attempt to intimidate that you knew would fail, "as long as you're being properly monitored, do as you please."
"understood." her fingers curled around your shoulder, gently urging you back, away from the door, "then i won't dawdle any longer, i'll join you all in the cafeteria momentarily."
yelena shut the door for you as soon as you took a step back, waiting until the steps of your squad leader had descended off of the porch and disappeared down the path before speaking to you. "i do hope i didn't get you in trouble."
you turned on your heel to face her, feeling a slight flutter in your chest at the sight of her already having lowered herself to your height. "oh, no, you don't have to worry about that.. he's always been a bit on the uptight side of things."
the corners of her lips perked up into the faintest smile before she proceeded back to the table, pressing a finger to the side of one of the teacups. "the coffee's gone cold now. my apologies for the distraction."
distraction, the wry thought flitted across your mind. you guessed that word was suitably to describe allowing her to nearly undress you before the sun had even fully risen in the sky. this was becoming a dangerous game, an ever-lengthening round of cat and mouse, and each day that passed made your more and more certain that you were the one who was running despite your inherent position of power over her. there was something absolutely captivating about her, whether it be the air of mystery that no amount of questions could dispel, or the way that she could practically bring you to your knees with just a few careful words—the more thought you put into it, the more instances of appeal that you seemed to find that only made you want to sink deeper and deeper into the depths that was her subtle control over you.
"i just don't want us to arrive late and miss out on anything." you said lamely, empty words to fill the air as you moved across the room to grab your jacket.
"perhaps another time." she replied, removing the dishes from the table to deposit them in the sink, leaving you with that sole promise that insinuated much more than just another cup of coffee.
─── · 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
"miss yelena, i don't know if we're allowed to be in this section of the building—"
"no one has stopped us yet, have they?" yelena didn't turn back to address you, only continuing forward with that long stride that took two quick steps of your own to match.
she was correct in the regard that no one had questioned her presence in the west wing of the management building, and the few that had begun to object stopped immediately upon catching sight of you following obediently behind her. you felt a bit like a prop, being used as almost a badge of clearance by the one and only individual that you were meant to keep from unauthorized locations such as this one. but her flat assertion that she had important business that gave you nothing in the way of information of direction before she'd taken off for the barracks, leaving you only able to chase after her and hope that no one figured out that she wasn't supposed to be there in the event that she truly wasn't meant to be.
you didn't have long to ruminate on your circumstances before you arrived at a door flanked by a single soldier, a young man that you recognized as someone affiliated with the more well-known soldiers from the 104th graduating class. though you didn't recall his name, you nodded politely to him as he opened the door for yelena, trailing closely behind her while still trying to peek around her slender frame. it was one of the smaller meeting rooms, a large window providing a fair amount of natural illumination down onto the round table, the sole occupant being another one of the anti-marleyan volunteers.
"glad to see you could make it." onyankopon smiled broadly up at yelena, his warm gaze flitting to you momentarily before traveling back to his associate, "no trouble, i assume?"
"none at all." she replied as she took a seat at the head of the table, looking as if she belonged there more than any of the superiors you'd seen seated there, "this one made sure no one interrupted our trip."
you flushed at the praise, standing pin straight beside her chair, hands lowering from behind your back to at your sides, trying not to let the enjoyment of her commendation show on your face. he turned his attention to you, inspiring a quick skip of your heart, fingers tapping nervously at your thighs.
"it's great to hear that yelena has been treating you well." he said matter-of-factly, but a cocked eyebrow and tilt of his head seemed to request a verbal confirmation of his statement.
you blinked, your words catching in your throat as your eyes involuntarily glanced to yelena, an instinctive desire to hold your tongue in the face of speaking about her, an odd sort of insecurity concerning your character flaring in your chest. but that split second of silence was all that she needed to take up the task of answering onyankopon, planting an elbow down on the tabletop and resting her chin in her palm.
"i have been treating her well." she affirmed, almost sounding bored, tilting her head to address you as she reached out and took the hand of yours that was closest to her, drawing it close to her face as she examined your expression, "isn't that right?"
you swallowed, mouth dry, nodding at yelena before remembering that you were meant to be answering onyankopon. "oh, y-yes. miss yelena has been very easy to work with."
pale eyes glimmered at your positive answer, mouth twitching upwards into that rare, barely noticeable smile. you felt your heart jump into your throat as she brought her lips to your knuckles, planting a soft, brief kiss over the back of your hand before gently placing it down at your side. she looked at you as if she knew exactly what you were thinking, like she could hear that unspoken worry of whether she should be doing this in front of her colleague, like she was giving the silent reply that she could do as she pleased.
"then, shall we begin?" onyankopon's voice brought you back to the present, shooting you another momentary glance before fixing his eyes on yelena.
"oh, right." she turned back to you, "be a dear and leave us for a moment to chat."
the mix of confusion at her request and surprise at the affectionate title halted your thoughts. "i'm sorry, miss yelena, but i don't think i'm allowed to do that."
your heart sank as you watched a look of annoyance draw across her features, large eyes narrowing, brow knitting together. she didn't speak for a moment, almost like she was waiting for you to take back your refusal and head on your way without any further discussion. when you did neither, she frowned, reaching out her hand once more, her fingers drawing up your palm to wrap around your wrist.
you nearly yelped as she clinched her grasp almost painfully tight, thumb pressing down hard over the bone at the side of your wrist, nails digging in your skin. her voice was low when she spoke, dangerously commanding and castigating, each word carefully enunciated.
"i said go."
only after you'd earnestly nodded did she release you, allowing you to scamper out of the room, blinking away the tears that had begun to well in your eyes from your stinging skin and the way she'd spoken to you. you took your place at the side of the door unoccupied by the soldier you'd seen before entering, fingers shakily tracing over the underside of your wrist.
though you weren't bleeding, the skin felt raw and irritated, your pulse racing fast in your veins. perhaps it wasn't so bad that you'd left them in there on their own, seeing as the older, more experienced guard was also standing by, well aware that there was no one monitoring them in the meeting room. so you obediently stood and waited, straining to make out coherent words from their muffled voices, contemplating why seeing yelena upset with you was so distressing.
why had you allowed her to order you around? why had you even complied with her demands instead of outright refusing like you were supposed to? why were you worried that she would still be angry with you by the time she walked out of that meeting room? you couldn’t understand what concerned you so deeply about what yelena thought of you, but somehow, the overbearing silence of the empty hallway made it even more difficult to wrap your head around your thoughts. you were so wrapped up in your panicked attempt at contemplation that you didn’t even notice the sound of their footsteps approaching from the other side of the door, only torn from your mind when the door opened from beside you. the two marleyans emerged, laughing affably together, exchanging temporary farewells until they could see each other at dinner that evening.
you looked up at her anxiously, wishing she’d spare you a glance for even just a moment instead of keeping her gaze fixed on the only other individuals populating the space. you hid your hands behind your back rather than in your pockets, knowing that it’d look horrendously unprofessional. but before you could worry about anyone catching sight of the reddened marks, the familiar soldier addressed you directly.
“i do look forward to working more closely with you in the future, i don’t believe we’ve met before. ” he said, outstretching a hand for you to shake, “floch forster.”
you quickly tugged the sleeve of your coat over your injured wrist, grasping his hand and giving a firm up and down, only offering your own name and a polite nod in return. you didn’t exactly know what he meant by working together in the future, but you assumed that it was in reference to your shared position of personal guards to marleyan volunteers.
you tensed at the familiar weight of a hand on your shoulder, feeling a firm squeeze that you knew all too well. “then we shall be going now. come.”
you immediately complied, giving a brief goodbye to the two men before proceeding quickly behind yelena, practically at her heels as the two of you walked further and further down the hall, shrouded in another bout of tense silence. you escorted her out of the building without issue, through the barracks and all the way to her lodgings, receiving nothing in the way of assurance or acknowledgment the entire way.
you wanted to speak up for yourself, ask if she was angered with you, anything to fill the quiet void, but you couldn't bring your mouth to push the words free. you hoped that she'd at least offer you her usual goodbye, as inherently lifeless and out of polite necessity as it may be, but it didn't come even as you unlocked the door to her quarters and held it open for her to enter, not even turning back before she sat herself at her desk and got to work on the clutter of papers occupying it.
you left her, feeling strangely heavy with defeat, unable to focus on anything for long before your mind strayed back to her upset expression, or the physical evidence of her displeasure with you. over the next hours, you constantly checked your watch, counting down the minutes to dinner, to when you'd be able to justify being in her presence and hopefully receive some sort of indicator that you were in the clear. you'd always been someone who did what was asked of you, a people pleaser—but there was something different about the inclination you felt towards yelena. it wasn't the kind of obedience that you gave to your superiors, she wasn't anything close to your superior in a technical sense, but somehow it felt natural, a servitude borne out of free will rather than one determined by ranking.
you knew you hadn't done anything wrong by denying her initially, but yet you still hoped for her forgiveness.
─── · 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
you quivered at the feeling of her lips sucking at the already marked skin of your neck, thighs squeezing tighter around her waist, her nails digging deep enough into them that they nearly threatened to tear the fabric of your pants. you swallowed down yet another moan, one hand working its way deeper into her short hair, the other clenching tightly to the fabric of her barely-buttoned dress shirt. your soft, shuddering breaths filled the space of the open air around you, the fear of knowing your squad leader was just outside the door waiting for a reply, adjacent to the wall that she'd pushed you up against despite your meek warnings that dinner would be starting any minute now, was almost tangible in your stomach.
she pulled away from the reddened flesh with a low hum, nipping at your ear as she demanded, "make him go away."
you barely nodded, eyes screwing shut when she began yet another bruising assault to your shoulder, not even giving you enough time to collect yourself and speak. "i apologize, s-sir. miss yelena wasn't f-feeling well, so i brought her meal h-h-here instead of escorting her to the cafeteria..!"
you nearly whimpered as her teeth sank into the soft junction between your neck and shoulder, silently praying to any higher power that may be listening for your superior to just leave already. "understood. please return the plates to the cafeteria before they close up and make it to the dormitories before curfew."
"y-yes, sir..!"
you could barely count his descending steps down the porch over the sound of your own blood roaring in your ears, only completely assured of his absence when she sighed against your skin, soothing the ache with a few apologetic licks, pressing her lips everywhere they could reach. you often found yourself recalling the first time this had happened, when the two of you were sitting at the table in her quarters and she had been apologizing for the day she'd ordered you out of the meeting room. you could still remember how her touch had trailed from stroking at your wrist, crescent nail prints still occupying your skin, to cupping your face, drawing you close to kiss her again and again—the heat of her proximity, how her hands had felt and caressed every inch of your body, whispering a breathless, endless stream of praises into your ear as you came apart under her.
though you had vowed to yourself that wouldn't allow it to happen again, that that night would be your first and only instance of giving into that weakness she'd slowly but surely carved into you, but you found yourself sinking into her arms when she beckoned you, sewing the buttons of your shirt back into place without complaint after the nights where she had become impatient and accidentally popped them free, staring at your naked body in the mirror after your long showers and tracing your fingers over the bruises she'd sucked and bitten into your tender skin.
she only marked you in places where you could hide them beneath your clothes, places which assured that she would be the sole individual to see them when she stripped you bare, only to add more and more. there was no set time between those late evenings, sometimes the interval would be less than a few days, and other times it would stretch out for weeks with no indication as to when the next occasion would come. but when it did, any semblance of self-restraint had completely diminished.
"you're such a good pet for me.." she cooed, her words sending a warm spark through every inch of you.
she'd become fond of calling you that, and a part of you wondered if that was all she saw you as, as only a pet or a possession. you'd accepted that she had the upper hand in this relationship, whatever it may be, but you couldn't help enjoying the feeling of being desired so deeply, being touched and admired in ways you'd never even imagined before you met her. your arms clasped tighter around her neck as she pulled you away from the wall, laying you out on her bed, taking a moment to strip out of her shirt before lowering herself on top of you.
her hands busied themselves ridding you of your chest wrappings, lips attentively traversing each inch of newly revealed skin, murmuring curses and sweet nothings that only made you squirm more beneath her, impatient and eager. you mewled when she'd finally settled her hands over her bare breast, large palms pressing into soft flesh, slender fingers pinching at your nipples. she turned her head up to kiss you, tongue outlining the seam of your lips before sliding into your mouth, claiming it as her own.
you were left panting when she pulled away despite its briefness, hazy, low-lidded eyes finding her own, intoxicated by that carnal look, dark pupils nearly overtaking the piercing grey of her irises. she only smirked at your lack of composure, dipping her head back down to suck and bite at the valley of your breasts, your fingers reflexively tightening in her hair. your hips bucked up into nothing, desperate for any sort of friction, much to yelena's amusement.
"aren't you just the neediest little thing?" she paused to lave her tongue over a pert bud, drawing another heated sigh from you as you nodded, hoping that your agreement could persuade her to not spend so much time teasing you.
she granted you the slightest relief, taking your nipple between your lips and sucking at it, the hand not occupied with another breast trailing down the scar etched into your side, following the path down to your navel to begin unbuttoning your pants. each second seemed to drag on longer than the last, and though you knew that she wasn't purposely drawing out the process of undressing you, it was still not enough. you were practically kicking your underwear to the floor by the time they made their way around your ankles, skin still burning hot despite being fully exposed to the air.
"p-please, miss yelena.." you whimpered at the feeling of her hand tracing up and down your inner thigh, occasionally stopping to stroke across the raised lines of skin that had been inscribed into your skin by the series of belts and buckles on your gear harness, but never proceeding that final inch up to where you needed it.
she pulled away to let out a low chuckle, peering up at you through dark lashes, bare chest pressed flush against your stomach. she drank in the way your face shifted as she rested the pad of her thumb over your clit, rubbing languid circles over it as her pointer finger dipped down your cunt, instantly slick with your arousal.
"you're so worked up from just that?" she taunted, speaking at barely a murmur, "or was it because somebody was listening?"
you felt the knot of anticipation drawing tight in the pit of your stomach, watching as she took her fingers in her mouth and licked over them, thighs shuddering when she returned to their previous position. "i-it was— i j-just— please.."
you could barely form a coherent thought, back arching up to urge your body as close to hers as you could manage, only cognizant of just how close you were to being relieved of that unbearable pressure welling within you. she only smiled, close-lipped and cunning, resting her head over your heaving chest.
"your heart is racing. i wonder how much faster i could make it go.."
you nearly whined as two fingers slid into you with little resistance, her mouth closing over a nipple, alternating between gently tugging at it with her teeth and flicking over it with the tip of her tongue. your hips rocked up into her hand, matching the pace of her wrist as your head dug back into the mattress, moans and incoherent pleas spilling from your parted lips.
you could feel yourself quickly approaching that rapturous peak, hands fisting the sheets under you, white stars blotting out your vision as she curled her fingers just right. you shuddered, gasping, eyes rolling aimlessly into the back of your head as the tension that had wound itself into every muscle finally released, coming completely undone beneath her. you pressed a shaking hand over your mouth, muffling the sound of your winded breaths, letting out a small noise when she relieved you of her fingers. you felt her lips grazing over your chest, forcing your head up to look at her with bleary eyes when their feather-light touch proceeded lower and lower down your stomach.
you had expected things to come to an end as they usually did, with her pulling her clothes back on before you even had the chance to see straight and gathering your own garments from the floor to hand to you, leaving you to walk back to your dormitories on trembling legs in your wrinkled uniform. but there was no sign of that immediate withdrawal as she gathered your thighs in her hands, lifting your legs up onto her shoulders as she pressed a brief kiss over your naval.
you licked your lips nervously, already more than too sensitive at just the feeling of her breath over your soaked cunt. you opened your mouth to meekly object or ask for just a moment longer to catch your breath, but she shushed you, her heavy-lidded gaze sending a fresh bout of heat across your skin. each little quiver of your thighs only made her grip fasten, unable to keep still as she kissed at the scars and soft flesh, drawing a stifled whimper when she stopped to suck a deep mark at a spot of untarnished skin.
you could see the pale expanse of yelena's back, pristine and absent of any previous traumas, the complete opposite of your own. the first time you'd see her undressed, you couldn't take your eyes off of her slender frame, lined with muscle from her days as a soldier but still so delicate. you'd never left any marks when she'd allow you to kiss at her neck and chest, only enough to see the rosy flush settle over her body, but by that time she was more than eager to get back to playing with you instead.
you took in a deep, unsteady breath, jaw clenching and stomach tightening as her tongue drew flat up the length of your cunt, a small moan breaking from your parted lips. she pressed forward, flicking the tip of her tongue over your clit in a merciless rhythm, holding your thighs apart to accommodate her presence each time they attempted to squeeze shut. you writhed over the sheets, her name slipping from you between high-pitched whines and labored breaths, minutes melting past in an incomprehensible blur, leaving you only cognizant of her tongue and hands dragging you back over that edge again and again.
by the time she'd released you, you could barely hold your eyes open, thighs aching from her fingers digging into them, throat raw from crying out for her and gasping in what never seemed to be enough air, feeling too exhausted to even think about making the walk back to your own room. but rather than hand your clothes to you in a silent cue for your departure, you watched her make her way back up the mattress to lay beside you, pulling your heavy, sweat-slicked body against her own. you couldn't try to refuse the comfort of her warmth, face pressing into her chest, breathing in her soft, clean scent, still occasionally trembling as you tentatively allowed your hands to cling to her.
you told yourself not to get comfortable, to try to regain control of your limbs by the time her sympathy for overworking you had worn off and she ordered you away for the night, but the demand never came. you felt a large hand settle at the base of your neck, another splaying across the small of your back, her chin resting on the crown of your head, holding you close like a lover would.
"you could stay for the night if you'd like." her tone was even and collected as it always was, but hushed, like she was murmuring a secret to you.
you knew that sleeping her had already far overstepped whatever boundary had been abandoned that night she'd first kissed you, the morning where she'd marveled at your body and commended your courage, every instance you'd obeyed her rather than carry out the simple orders you were given. it was already too late to tear yourself away from this presence that you'd grown so familiar with—the one that you had feared, the one that you now craved despite how you knew you shouldn't.
"thank you, miss yelena." you whispered hoarsely, curling into her, allowing your heavy eyes to close.
that would be the first and last time you ever spent the night in her quarters.
─── · 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
the banquet to celebrate the completion of the rail system in trost was minutes away from commencing. the speaking podium was empty for the moment, soldiers and civilians chattering amongst themselves as they waited for the military officials to gather at the stage. you were authorized to be in the private area as yelena's personal escort, seeing as she had participated in the mapping of the railroad through the district and would be acknowledged as a contributor to the advancement of paradis.
but as excited as you were to celebrate, eat good food and hopefully get a chance to drink, you weren't looking forward to transferring your position to floch forster for the remainder of the night. although, your desire to stay by yelena's side had been momentarily dissuaded by the desire to please her when she'd requested the change a few days prior. you hadn't bothered to hide your disappointment, nor did you hold back your questions.
"change to forster? but.. why?" you had asked, in the privacy of her quarters, feeling an immediate disheartening at her words.
she didn't directly respond, the hand that had been at your shoulder rising to pet at your cheek. "you trust me, don't you?"
"y-yes, but—"
"then file a request to change with him."
you couldn't explain why you had felt such a cool emptiness burrowing into your chest, a sudden spite for the other soldier beginning to fester in the back of your mind, the thought that she would choose him over you inspiring an indescribable irateness. you turned away from her hand, not thinking of how you were pouting like a child, unwilling to meet her eyes or compromise with her. you'd been fretting over how she hadn't spared you any sort of affection in the nearly two months that had passed, the fear that she'd grown tired of you an incessant whisper in your ear. but then she had reached for you, treated you gently, persuading with that hint of sincerity she rarely ever showed you.
"it would only be for the evening, i have business to attend to that night. i'm sure you've been looking forward to the celebration?" a frown tugged at your lips, only offering a small nod in reply, meeting her eyes when she guided you by your chin to face her. "then transfer with forster, have fun for the evening—you deserve it."
you couldn't help but preen under her praise, meeting her eyes, heart stuttering at the sight of her barely-there smile. you finally caved after a moment of thought, relenting to her wishes. "i'll put in a temporary transfer request tomorrow afternoon."
"thank you, dear."
despite how you weren't exactly looking forward to forster's arrival to relieve you from duty, those final words lifted your spirits just the slightest bit. perhaps she had simply been caught up in the stress of such a grand achievement, too busy attending meetings with engineers and generals and event staff to make any spare time for you for the past weeks. you had waited for weeks before, you could continue waiting if need be. you were at her beck and call, and as long as it pleased her, you were perfectly fine doing as such.
you let out a soft sigh at the sigh of floch forster approaching, weaving through the scattered crowd with a stoic, dutiful look plastered across his expression.
"good evening, floch." yelena said from beside you.
he replied with a polite good evening to both you and her, adding your name as more of an afterthought than anything, but turning his focus back to you when you still hadn't stepped away. "you can go, i'll take it from here."
your gaze flickered over to yelena, feeling yourself relax as she nodded to you, a hand resting at your shoulder to gently urge you forward. "i'll see you tomorrow morning. enjoy yourself tonight."
so you took your leave, watching the ceremony in the company of your fellow soldiers, eyes always wandering away from the speaker and to yelena at the side of the stage. the speech concluded, the crowd cheered and applauded, and everyone was directed to the banquet hall where the remainder of the event would be held. you watched yelena and floch walk off the stage with the other officials, becoming distracted for just a moment speaking to someone but having lost sight of them by the time you looked back.
you didn't see yelena for the remainder of the night, but you did as you were told, enjoying the good food, talking to your friends, avoiding any alcohol in preparation for your usual early morning. it was all over quite quickly, and the next morning came and went, business as usual for the remainder of the next few days—then came the news of eren jaeger's disappearance, then the plans of the all-hands-on-deck operation that was to be the retrieval effort for the young man, the entire scouting branch thrown into overdrive.
and, though you never mustered the courage to ask, you felt a sinking feeling deep inside, that yelena's nightly errand with floch and eren's absence were somehow connected, that there was much more going behind the scenes that you couldn't even begin to fathom.
just wanted to give u guys a little gift for my birthday (´・ᴗ・ ` )
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Not a Minute More: Part 2
Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x f!MC
Word Count: 1.8k
Warnings; Rating: Mentions of a cyberattack, Angst; Teen+
Premise: MC's perspective on the day that rocks Ethan to his core and threatens to change his life.
Author’s Note: I was going to wait to post this, but I'm loving the flood of content we're getting rn, so I thought I'd hop on too. I cried writing this... I'm so sorry 😭. Part 1 here. I hope you enjoy and thank you for reading 💖
~ Monday, 8:20am ~
"Good morning, Mike!" Serena greets the security guard right inside the door.
"Hey! How are ya? How's that Dr. Ramsey?"
"We're both doing well, thanks! How about you and the family?" She asks as she puts her phone in a cubby and unplugs the Wi-Fi enabler from her laptop.
"It was the wife and I's anniversary this weekend! We went to Martha's vineyard and saw the most beautiful proposal! You and Dr. R gonna get going on that soon? Aly has been talking about going to y'alls wedding since she met ya!" Mike gives a playful wink.
"Oh, congratulations! That's wonderful and send Aly my best wishes. But you'll have to talk to E on that one," she laughs before opening the door to a stairwell that leads to a classified area.
After keying in her pin, the door clicks open. She grabs a static protection lab coat, walks through the entrance, and is met with a plethora of state-of-the-art equipment. Floor-to-ceiling grey switch panels, curved monitors as far as the eye can see, and countless probes, clips, and wires.
She walks over to a few familiar faces. “Good morning! How’s it going?”
“Nice of you to finally join us! Dr. Ramsey keep you this morning?” Isla, one of the engineers, jests.
“I saw your check-in on the monitor — you walked in two minutes before me!”
“Those diagnostic skills at work, I see,” Isla retorts and they both laugh.
Isla had become a fast and faithful friend since Serena joined the project. They bonded quickly over both being minorities in the world of science and supported each other in every work facet. They had lunch together everyday and gradually, their work bond grew into a personal friendship as well. They’ve become so close that Isla now also regularly spends time with the original Edenbrook gang.
“Alright, enough chit chat. Let’s get this show on the road.”
The team nods and responds, “Yes, Doctor.”
~ 12:00pm ~
Serena exits the classified area with some colleagues and they all make their way to retrieve their phones.
"No new patients. Stuck in meetings and doing paperwork. I miss you and wish you were here."
She immediately breaks out into a large grin after reading Ethan's text and hits the dial button.
"Hey, ready for lunch?" Carmen, one of the lead scientists, asks.
Serena nods and moves her phone slightly away from her ear. "Be there in a minute. You guys go ahead."
She waits for a few more rings. He’s probably busy, I’ll call again later. She hangs up and makes her way to the cafeteria.
~ 12:40pm ~
"We did all the necessary prep work this morning to begin testing after lunch. Everything is looking good. We can begin running our tests since everyone is here. Are we all ready to begin?"
"Yes."
The system engineers are sitting at connected computer stations, inputting the required credentials to start. The rest of the team is standing behind them, waiting and nervously watching the screens. After a couple minutes of tense silence with nothing but the clack clack clack of keyboard keys, Vincenzo, one of the lead engineers, speaks up.
"This is weird… we're having some trouble accessing the necessary data. Did someone put up a firewall?"
Everybody looks around at each other, shaking their heads and muttering "no."
"Isla, are you seeing this? Can you get through?"
Isla continues to type, not saying anything. After a few more seconds, she turns to look at Vincenzo with a concerned expression. "I don't recognize some of the items in our system."
Just as she finishes her sentence, everyone's attention is pulled abruptly to a wall monitor on the right as it starts showing nonsensical images and patterns. Two seconds later, an alarm goes off and a red warning light begins flashing within the building. Everyone's eyes go wide as realization dawns on them: they've been compromised and shelter-in-place has been activated.
~ 12:55pm ~
Everyone begins to evacuate the classified lab area, grabbing their phones on the way out, and peering through the one-way windows. They can occasionally hear Mike speaking rapidly into the phone with a 911 dispatcher, when he's not being drowned out by shouts from colleagues.
On the descent to the bunker, the tension is palpable. Individuals clutch onto each other, others try frantically to reach loved ones, and some are in complete disbelief and shock. As they all descend the five flights of the winding staircase to the basement, windows are no longer available, but the ceiling bulbs keep flickering on and off. Each time it happens, everyone stops in their tracks, ducks down on instinct, and picks up the pace when the lights come back on.
~ 1:15pm ~
The entrance to the Harvard labs bunker is protected by a vault door that has a counter system. When the system is in place, the door can be opened once for people to get in. Once it's been closed, it can only be opened when there's one person on either side working together — it's futile with only one person. The only other way it can be opened is by shutting down the counter system from the outside, with the correct override pin, which only a handful of the most trusted team members know.*
As the vault door comes into sight, the wheel on the outside is turned, and the door opens with a whoosh. People slowly start filing in and head towards the back. However, not everyone can stay in the safety of the bunker. In case of an emergency, the project they’re working on must be erased, to protect it from falling into the wrong hands. Certain people have been assigned particular instructions to delete specific portions.
Serena is one of them.
She's walking next to Isla and their arms are looped together. As Isla enters the bunker, Serena lets go of her arm, stopping at the threshold. Isla whips her head around.
"What are you doing?! Get in here!" She reaches for Serena’s arm.
Serena shakes her head. "I'm the only one currently here who knows the medical codes."
Isla's eyes are frantic in realization. "I'll go back with you! I'll be your lookout! You're not going alone!"
"You'll be safe here. This is my responsibility."
Serena reaches behind her neck and unclasps her gold necklace for the first time in 7 years. She grabs Isla's hand and places the jewelry into her palm, closing Isla's fingers around it.
Serena stares at their clasped hands. "In case anything happens," they both flinch at another flickering of lights. "Promise me that you'll get this to E."
Their eyes are locked now, having a silent battle: Isla begging her to stay and Serena finding the strength not to.
"Isla, promise me. Please." Serena squeezes Isla’s hand that much tighter.
Isla realizes that there's no use in fighting Serena. Risking her life to delete the project is part of the job. They all made a commitment and if the roles were reversed, Isla would be the one fighting to go back.
Isla slowly nods. "I promise, Serena. I promise. But do your best to keep yourself safe. Try and stay near the corners, away from any large equipment that could have aftershock effects, and—"
Serena shakes her slightly. "I know, Isla. We did take the same training," she smiles, trying to make a joke to lighten the mood, but Isla just stares gravely at her.
A booming sound rattles the building and Serena knows it's time to go. She gives Isla a quick hug, before pushing her backwards into the bunker. Before Isla has regained her footing, Serena has closed the bunker door with a resounding thud.
~ 1:30pm ~
On the way back to the classified area, Serena takes out her phone. Ethan hasn't returned her earlier call. Her heart is pounding and with trembling hands, she hits the call button on Ethan's contact card for the second time in less than two hours. After a few rings, his voice comes through.
"You've reached Dr. Ethan Ramsey. I apologize for missing your call. Leave a message and I'll get back to you."
Just as she’s about to start speaking, the lights go down for good. "Hey E," she tries her best to keep her voice from shaking. She puts the call on speaker, places the phone out in front of her, and turns the flashlight on. "I don't know when this will hit the news, but we're currently under cyberattack. I don't know from who or what, but they’ve already gotten into our mainframe and power supply. Everyone has sheltered-in-place and is awaiting further instructions." She takes a deep breath as she inches down a corridor.
"Everyone except me, Vincenzo, and Carmen. We’re the only three here right now trained to completely delete the project in the event something like this happened. I'm walking back to the lab as I speak."
Serena rounds a corner and the lab comes into view. Thinking about what she has to say next, silent tears stream down her face.
"Ethan, sweetheart, I need you to know that the last eight months by your side have been the absolute best eight months of my entire life. You are the light of my existence and mean everything to me." She lets out a deep breath. "I wish I could hear your voice right now… I'm really scared. But I made a commitment, so I need to go back in and finish the job. If something happens, know that you are unequivocally the love of my life and the one for me. I know we haven't talked about it yet, but know that I want to spend forever with you as your wife and have you be the father of my children." She sniffs and continues, "you would be a fantastic husband and dad."
She comes to a stop in front of the keypad located right outside the lab and swallows past the lump in her throat. "But if the universe has other plans for me, I'll be waiting for you and I can't wait to spend forever with you in the next life. This isn't how I wanted to tell you, but until next time, whenever that is, I love you so much, Ethan Jonah Ramsey, more than words could ever properly convey."
She ends the phone call with tear-filled eyes, stashes her phone on a nearby workbench, punches in her key, and enters the classified area one more time.
~~~~~~
*Disclaimer: I have no idea if Harvard labs has a bunker and if they do, what kind of door/system they utilize. This is all purely AU!
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I’m late but for kinkoctober but ur writing is so flawless, this suggestion will be an odd pair, little to no fanbase but Kabuto x Sasori. 🥺
Pairing: Kabuto/Sasori
Prompt: Anal Play/Coercion (originally Day 18 from this list of prompts) AND Dirty Little Secret for @naruto-smut-monday
Obvious warnings are obvious with the prompts above, also includes D/s play, biting/scratching, and rimming.
All Kinktober fills should be considered explicit unless stated otherwise!
AO3 LINK
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Waiting for an assignation is never a simple matter. Punctual to the point of arriving early at everything, Kabuto looks at his watch for perhaps the fifth time, and he counts down the minutes. His date was very specific in their instructions, and he prefers to make a good impression. Kabuto can respect a desire for punctuality, for exacting details intended to ensure obedience.
He knows himself to be just as exacting in his preferences when exerting control, and based on this similarity alone, he has high hopes for this meeting. The contact came highly recommended by his own current favorite - precisely because said favorite was known to turn Kabuto’s own reality on its very head and make him question which end was up and which was down.
If only it weren't so painfully obvious to his partner when such a feat was possible - but Obito had the uncanny ability to read him as quickly as a cheap novel, and just as easily. Obito, his switch of a partner who was meant to be and still mostly acts as Kabuto’s own submissive.
Secret needs will out, however, and these roles are now flipped with surprising regularity, which is what led him here in the first place. The fact still remains that Kabuto doesn't bend for just anyone, and he still gets tetchy about the prospect and process of exploring the depths of his own submission with a new Dominant. Obito, however, seems certain that this match will be the right fit.
And so Kabuto waits.
His new contact’s profile is sparse, with photographs that only display a slight figure masked in black, with brilliantly crimson hair that drew the eye at once. An artist by trade, 'Exploring', their status said, which leaves even more to the imagination.
It often only takes one strikingly unique feature to catch Kabuto's visual interest, to make him wonder; to call to his analytical side, which loves to break down each solitary detail of a play partner until the origin of its nature is revealed. Until their true nature is revealed right along with it.
Whether it is skin like a bleach-splashed canvas, or cat-like golden eyes, his long-term partners have always been unique. Both of the latter possessed features that were the result of rare conditions, or genetic mutations that made said partners even more captivating, whether under the lash... or wielding it.
With the prospect of a new connection, all Kabuto knows for sure is that his date has hair like spun garnets, a certain cruel twist to a delicate mouth, and eyes like a fine umeshu. Not exactly unique, but there is still something there that captures his imagination.
Perhaps the artist is merely very good at their trade, taking a skilled hand to the composition of their photographs. Looks can certainly be deceiving—he should have predicted that his expectations would be turned on their head.
Which is how Kabuto finds himself trussed and stripped and poised on his knees before said artist once their negotiations are dispensed with.
Finely manicured fingertips caress the line of his spine before nails scratch, three at once, raising lines of glowing sensation across his shoulder blades. And they don’t stop their downward trek, marking Kabuto, making him gasp. The air makes a sharp sound passing through his teeth.
“You’ll do, but for more reasons than you think. Reasons you may not expect.” Sasori says, “And for exactly those reasons, you’ll give me everything I want.”
“Will I?”
That hand takes hold of a generous handful of his hair and steadily pulls him back, forcing him to arch his spine. Those cruel lips brush Kabuto’s ear as Sasori speaks, his soft voice bright with amusement, “You will, or this little kingdom you’ve built for yourself will be winnowed away into dust and thrust into the wind for anyone to take. Admit it… you want me anyway.”
The words are smug even in their gentle tone, accented by soft puffs of humid breath against Kabuto’s neck, his loosened hair. He cannot see Sasori’s eyes, and a small, creeping desperation begins in the pit of his belly. Sasori pulls harder, making him twist, rubied lips nipping Kabuto’s own briefly, roughly.
“You should have known better than to seek me out when you’re entirely that snake’s creature… he did have rather delightful tastes though. Did you kneel for him too? Recount all your dirty little secrets for him?”
“You know I did,” Kabuto grits his teeth as Sasori’s dainty fist tightens harder in his hair.
“I know you did, which is why I’ll make sure he sees every lurid moment of this if you don’t do exactly as I like. And then you know he’ll cast you away for dallying with me, faithless boy...”
The threat feels real, so damn real that goosebumps chase the lengths of his limbs, and Kabuto shivers, allowing fear to catapult him closer to compliance. His pulse notches higher and his mouth runs dry. Sasori releases him as if throwing him back down again, but it’s only the effective toppling of his own weight. Every new touch is feather light, even as the artist’s hands explore his body, shoving him onto all fours, undignified, yet perfectly on display.
Sasori’s breath ripples down his spine, the wet heat of his tongue drifting along the lines his own nails followed in the moments prior. Blood rushes in Kabuto’s ears, and his pale hair falls forward, obscuring his burning cheeks as he sinks lower on his elbows, allowing Sasori full access to his body.
“Shameless and pretty all at once, just look at you, ready for anything,” Sasori muses, “I’d hate to keep you waiting.”
Sasori’s questing, tormenting hands begin to part him wide, exposing him further, nails digging into the softer flesh of his buttocks. Kabuto grits his teeth as Sasori’s wicked tongue plies at his hole, two deft fingers moving to spread wetness around the orifice before one of them dips inside him with ease.
“Ready for anything, indeed.”
A bottle clicks and cool slick drips over his skin, making Sasori’s next movements nearly effortless. He dips in and out with shallow strokes, toying at the edges of Kabuto’s passage, As Sasori bends to bite the curve of his hip, sharp and hot like a brand. He knows without knowing that the artist has marked him, and Kabuto gasps, placing a fist beneath his lips to muffle any noises which might come unbidden.
He fails, of course, when Sasori laughs against his skin, finding his prostate with near expert precision.
The pressure inside him shifts wider, deeper as digits spread and curl, scraping against nerves suddenly sensitized beyond compare. Kabuto’s sight wavers as if plunged underwater, his cock hard and already dripping, too much, too soon. Sasori’s methodical exploration only continues, with another finger wedging in place beside the others.
“You’re so needy that I’m almost thinking you could take my whole hand. You would if I wanted you too, wouldn’t you, greedy boy?” Sasori’s fingers drag and exploit every new bit of knowledge he’s gained until Kabuto is unable to stem the pleading noises that are not quite muffled by his fist.
“Use your words.”
“I--I can but it’s-it’s-too-much!” He blurts, his voice arching higher on the last few words. Kabuto’s face burns and his head swims, and he squeezes his eyes shut, fighting the urge to shove back anyway and chase the high that is just outside of his capability.
Sasori gives a chuffing little laugh, teasing his pinky finger just along the rim of him until Kabuto whines, and with a twist of his hand, all four enter to press and tease.
“Oh, good boy… you’re going to come just like this, only accepting what I give you for as long as it takes…”
It doesn’t take long at all for his voice to break the silence, for sticky heat to spatter his belly and the floor beneath him. For oblivion to cloud his mind and numb his awareness.
But it’s only the first part of their night.
Later, after Kabuto has been wrung out in every way he might have imagined, he is treated to a massage and a short rest wrapped in a warm blanket. His pretty new play partner fetches his things and offers him a drink. White tea, hot and perfect.
“So tell me, did we explore everything you wanted to?” Sasori appraises him from head to toe, searching for unease. The artist is more attentive than Kabuto had imagined, leaving no detail unexamined. It’s no wonder that he has connections with individuals that Kabuto respects among their circles.
“Ahh… yes, thank you for following the plan.”
"Any Dominant worth their salt would do no less. Your illustrious mentor failed you if he didn't set that expectation." Sasori sniffs, still maintaining physical contact.
Kabuto hazards a wry smile. "He did. I'd have stopped everything in its tracks if you'd been lacking. But as it stands I'd like to see you again."
Sasori gives a curt nod, but the softening of his mouth gives away his satisfaction. "So long as you never leave me waiting, we’ll have much to explore."
Perhaps it's a good thing that Kabuto's punctuality is a personal guarantee.
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what do you make of Eliot's pre-show reputation for working alone? it makes sense for Parker and Hardison, who've always worked that way, but Eliot has a history of working as part of a team in various contexts
Yeah, it's definitely interesting! Really, Sophie never gets that label of 'always working alone' (and in fact later we see her bringing in Tara, which supports that she has friendly contacts still). It's just Parker, Hardison, and Eliot. And like you said, it makes complete sense for Parker, and even Hardison's hacking is just typically more suited to be done alone even if he is a social guy on a personal level. Eliot is different, given his history.
One thing I noticed a while ago, which is also interesting, is that Eliot's job by its very nature depends on other people. Sophie, Parker, and Hardison all steal what they want - as retrieval specialist, Eliot had to be hired. That's not to say he never just took something he wanted, necessarily, but his role majorly depended on people a) knowing of him in the first place, b) trusting his reputation enough to hire him, and c) being able to get in touch with him to hire him. I highly doubt he was handing out business cards left and right, so he had to have a network of contacts to at the very least pass his name along as an 'I know just the guy for the job' kind of thing. In fact, we see him bring in a friend on a con early in S1, and he is in contact with/does jobs for old military contacts throughout the show. (Once again, in the first episode Parker and Hardison were successfully recruited for someone else’s job, so it's not like that never happened for the others. But the general trend was that they picked their own heists; Eliot was hired on by other people.)
So we have a guy here who has a history of working on teams, a reputation as a loner, and yet still actively works for people who he has to keep on good enough terms to keep hiring him. How did that happen? In my opinion, it all comes back to Damien Moreau.
Eliot's timeline goes through some distinct phases:
Rural teen with a relatively poor family, I think they mention he played football; very all-American.
Joined the army with "a flag on his shoulder and God in his heart" or however that quote went.
Highly trained military operative involved in very classified operations.
Working for Damien Moreau.
Working solo as a retrieval specialist.
Leverage.
It's easy to track him through 1-3. He was recruited into the army with promises of heroism and glory, excelled at what he did, was eventually disillusioned. Getting from there to Moreau is a bit more of a jump, and likely didn't happen immediately. Given how protective Eliot gets over people he's working with, and how vigorously he hates betrayals of trust from his team, I think it's not unreasonable to assume that part of the reason he left the army had to do with whatever unit he was in getting very hurt. Likely in a way that made him feel he failed to protect them; maybe he was the only one who made it out of one specific situation. Maybe just a bunch of people he worked with got whittled down, or maybe it wasn't anything so deadly but he saw how little their lives mattered in the grand scheme of those in charge, saw how amoral the missions he was given were, and it was more of a gradual slide into illegality. There's also the detail that as he got into more and more classified work, he might be less and less likely to have a large group of people he could talk to/be a regular team with. Either way, I think Moreau didn't completely hire him straight out of the army, but there probably wasn't a tremendously long time between him leaving that group and joining up with Moreau.
*I originally thought Eliot didn't meet Toby until after he left Moreau, but a helpful anon corrected me on that! 'In the French Connection Job he says to Nate "I was out of the service and working for my 2nd PMC", doing wetwork.' He 'should've' killed Toby but instead stayed with him for months, 'learning how to cook and how to feel'. It certainly seems like he had gone some degree of numb after his experiences in the army and even since leaving it. His second private military contract/company... still implies he was working for organizations of some sort, though I get the impression he wasn't sticking around for terribly long times. Still, even if he then works solo retrieval type gigs for a while, I don't think he was nearly as insistent on working alone/had such a clear reputation about it, not yet.
Eliot no longer believed that he was doing good. He'd lost his naive patriotism and seems to have lost his religion for the most part as well. He didn't trust the system, but for the most part he still seemed to have faith in individuals. He still kept in touch with some old colleagues, he'd learned from Toby; he still wanted to be a part of something, even if that something couldn't be the US Army. He's a self-motivated criminal now but he still isn't averse to working with others.
Then comes Damien Moreau. Whether you read their relationship as romantic or not, it was undeniably important and personal. They knew one another well. Damien even still liked Eliot years after he'd left. There's good evidence for them having an emotionally abusive relationship where Moreau took advantage of Eliot's tendency to do things for those he cares about (I reblogged a great meta on this a little while ago). But essentially what we see here is that in all his time working for Moreau, no one else made such a strong impression on Eliot. Moreau definitely seems the type to play favorites and emotionally distance Eliot from other goons - Eliot isn't just another goon after all, he's the best. He's worthy of Damien's time and attention and specific assignments that only Eliot can be trusted to get done right. Whatever process of estrangement Eliot's superior skills may have begun, Moreau quickened until there was only one person who was the most important to him. Eliot didn't just work for him as a part of some vast criminal network by the end - no, he worked directly for and with Moreau himself. He was part of a team of two for all intents and purposes, regardless of how often he may have cooperated with others on specific jobs (though I suspect that got less frequent over time as well).
And when Eliot realized how deep he'd gotten, how terrible he'd become? He left, and left Damien Moreau specifically behind. Maybe he took a break for a while, went underground... it certainly doesn't seem like he had a conversation with Moreau and resigned so much as he just ran. And when he returned it was as a solo act. What this tells me is that not only did his time with Moreau break Eliot's trust in himself, it broke his ability to trust others. Not everyone necessarily, but in a working capacity. It probably was not the first time he'd experienced betrayal (in some form or another, his time in the army definitely qualified) but it was the most personal. Eliot trusted and liked Moreau - and he did the worst things in his entire life for him.
He couldn't repeat that. He couldn't leave himself open to getting sucked in like that again. And what's more, at this point he really didn't need to. His skills were such that he could get the job done himself (and had perhaps even honed those more solo skills while working for Moreau), and doing so meant that he never had to leave himself vulnerable to someone else like that again. He didn't have to be responsible for someone else getting hurt, and he didn't have to accept that he'd put someone else in charge of who he hurt. Eliot starts being more careful not to permanently injure or kill people, starts getting more selective with his jobs, and makes it a requirement that he works them alone. He still has to accept jobs from others, yeah, but he has ultimate control over what jobs he does accept, and if he operates purely on a freelance basis without getting too involved with any one client, then he can avoid the emotional entanglement that lead to such horrific loss of judgement in the past. It's hard, because he is naturally drawn to other people... but Eliot thinks that letting no one in is by far the safer option for everyone involved. He still builds relationships with others in order to get his name out, and may do repeat work for certain people, but no one is going to own him anymore. He is good enough that he can afford to set the terms like that; when he keeps getting the job done the word will spread that even alone he is worth the money. Eliot relies only on himself and any relationships he has are necessarily shallow. Professional, brief. This extends even to friendships (that seem to involve infrequent contact for the most part) and romantic relationships (he has plenty of sex but doesn't get emotionally close to anyone, does not fall in love). He is alone - in fact he is emphatically and outspokenly alone, because he doesn't want anyone to get their hooks in him like that ever again.
(*Doing jobs like this also limits the likelihood, especially in the beginning, that he's going to end up working for Moreau again in any real capacity. As time passes and Moreau doesn't attempt to bring him back too hard, that may become less of an issue in his mind, but it could certainly be a perk at least as the start.)
Then of course we eventually come to Leverage. It's been a while since Moreau. Eliot has built a solid reputation for himself - and he is being offered a LOT of money for a job that promises to be fairly quick. At this point, he probably feels like maybe he can trust himself as part of a team again without getting too sucked in - he will just keep it to one job and go his own way afterwards. It'll be fine.
...And then he immediately gets sucked in, bonds right away and wants so badly to stay. But even then, it's because of Nate. Eliot knows Nate, trusts him to be the 'honest man', is certain enough of Nate's moral compass that it's okay to get drawn in if Nate is the one making the plans. If it weren't for him, Eliot would have walked right away. Eliot was never going to allow himself to be ruled by others again... but Nate isn't like any of those people, he is a good man. Eliot can trust him not to lead him into anything too morally wrong, and in fact the work with Leverage is a way to bring some good back into the world. Not redeem himself, that won't ever happen, but under Nate's leadership Eliot can do something good for once. He doesn't want to stop.
By the time he moves past trusting Nate's judgement so much, he already trusts and loves the whole team. Parker and Hardison especially, so now he has to stay to keep them safe... even from Nate's plans sometimes, when he gets drunk and reckless. Eliot is secure in his role as part of a team again - and he probably was very lonely without one for all that time. It's not really in his nature to work alone long-term. And a key difference this time is that everyone else gets just as invested as he, and there's a good balance of power and respect unlike all of the more hierarchical teams he was in before (army, Moreau, they would have clear command structures - hell, even high-school football has a captain and a coach). Nate is nominally in charge but they talk back to him and lead where they have the most expertise. They dedicate themselves to him as much as he to them, they change together. And they change for the better, together.
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A Closer Look at: Momoe Sawaki’s character arc; by a nonbinary (trans) viewer.
CW: Major spoilers for Wonder Egg Priority + mentions and discussion of sexual assault, transphobia, lesbophobia, self-harm; please proceed with caution.
Wonder Egg Priority came as a relatively pleasant surprise for me; I heard about it some time after the first few episodes aired, but I never actively went out of my way to ever try to watch it myself until, that is, a few days ago. I must say, I’m glad to have taken the initiative to experience such anime on my own.
With a stunning animation to accompany the heavy subjects this work touches on, I quickly fell in love with it; all the characters feel very grounded in reality, with their struggles (even someone like Neiru’s, who is a literal genius and CEO of her own company) feeling relatable in one way or another. Episode 7 became my favorite due to this very thing, Rika’s problems were things that not only have I seen in other works before, but that I know exist because of the stories told in the news every so often. It only helped, in my opinion, that they gave a character with her background such a hopeful ending.
That being said, Wonder Egg is not a perfect anime, and though I didn’t expect it to be in the first place, I do think talking about why some of the ways it handles a specific character of the main cast are problematic are worth the time. When I mentioned that “all the characters feel very grounded in reality”, I actually only meant three of them, a.k.a.: Ai, Rika and Neiru. The reason Momoe is not included in this group is what I will be discussing in the next paragraphs.
This anime lets you know, right off the bat, that it will not stray away from heavy subjects throughout the duration of its runtime; the show deals with suicidal idealization (and actual suicide as well as its aftermath; in fact, “female suicide” is at the very core of the show and is what essentially moves it forward), self-harm, sexual assault, same-sex relationships, transphobia, and being a gender noncomforming person in a society that punishes you for not adhering to the roles it has imposed on you since childhood. The last points are the ones I took issue with, however, and though they are mostly the show’s fault, they also took it upon themselves to make Momoe be at the center of all three.
See, when we are first introduced to Momoe, we can guess by context that she is a girl, however, the other characters aren’t aware of this fact yet, and so they seemingly go out of their way to call her a boy, which makes her deeply uncomfortable, and this (ie. her reaction to be treated or perceived as a boy) is a running theme throughout her arc. This, in itself, isn’t really the worst creative direction to take with a character, it’s a story that has been told time and time again, but there is a problem with the way Wonder Egg Priority specifically deals with it: Momoe is cisgender, and so far, there hasn’t been a sign of this changing whatsoever, so she will most likely remain cis until the show ends. Normally, a story about a gender noncomforming cis person wouldn’t be seen as anything out of the extraordinary, as I’ve mentioned before, but it seems that they wanted to… “innovate”, so to say, with her character. And it’s this innovation, in my opinion, that which makes Momoe’s struggles miss the mark for me.
Momoe is perceived, almost ridiculously so, as a boy by whoever even so much as stumbles upon her; her followers on Instagram most likely worship her because they’re under the impression that she’s a bishounen, and yet the show goes out of its way to deal with just how uncomfortable this makes her. This is the issue I take with her and her arc: the show has a keen awareness of AFAB people’s issues, and treats them with the respect they deserve (which is not to say some jokes at their expense aren’t made, but in general this tone is kept throughout the duration of the story), and yet the tone-deaf manner in which they deal with her issues feels… disappointing, to say the least.
Momoe’s struggles, though they are valid on their own, are not a societal issue, no matter how one may look at them; if she were a trans person (either a trans girl, boy, or nonbinary), the strong emphasis on her discomfort at being misgendered would have made so much more sense. The reason why ‘switching around’ the stereotype of a tomboy falls flat on its face is that there is no real pressure from society to present feminine, it’s what they want you to, or more accurately, force you to do if you’re perceived as being assigned female at birth; however, this is not where my issues with Momoe’s arc and character end.
At first, I imagined a variety of (albeit vague, still reasonable) reasons as to why this show couldn’t have just made Momoe be trans, and semi-understanding of this decision; that was, of course, until I watched the actual episode mostly focused on her struggles, and that’s when I got slightly mad. Being honest, I still think it was a good episode, and it definitely made Momoe seem way more sympathetic than any of her past appearances, but it also perfectly highlighted my problem with her, and subsequently, the show itself: using queer people’s actual, realistic, problems in order to push her, a cisgender character, forward.
The thing with Wonder Egg Priority is that I love how, despite all these girls literally risking their lives to save a specific person, they still seem to have conflicting feelings about them (ie. Rika’s mocking of Chiemi, Ai’s frustration towards Koito, etc.) but I also take issue with this when it comes to Momoe specifically; Haruka is very much intended to be seen as gay, yet when push comes to shove, we are supposed to be taking Momoe’s side in this conflict. We, the audience, see these events from her point of view, and are therefore made to feel, in one way or another, uncomfortable with Haruka’s attraction for her. Yes, Momoe has worked hard to bring her back to life, but the fact that she’s cis and heterosexual stands; this isn’t just exclusive to Haruka, however, but every egg she’s had to save in order to get her friend back. All of them express a clear attraction for Momoe, “despite her being a girl”, and it’s just very easy to read these attitudes as wlw-phobic, extremely so.
My biggest issue though lies within the very existence of Kaoru’s character, the trans boy she has to protect in the episode mainly focused on her; while he is an endearing and sympathetic character, and I like that despite him presenting ‘majorly female’, Momoe never misgenders him. The thing is: he’s made out to be almost a “parallel” of her own gender-related issues, and this is just a very tone-deaf statement to make; trans people fighting not to be misgendered, fighting to be called their chosen name (something Momoe, while being cis, can just freely enjoy) - trans people’s pain is very much real, which the show is aware of, but Momoe’s is very much an individual’s problem rather than the way society actually works, which Wonder Egg is seemingly unaware of, for whatever reason.
Before I arrive at my last point on why this comparison doesn’t work, I would like to quickly point out the fact that most, if not all, the eggs the girls have had to save until this point were specifically meant to be girls, in one way or another. Therefore, taking this into account, Kaoru makes me feel… a lot of things, the more time I spend thinking about it; the show acknowledges he’s a boy, though not cis of course, but still very much a boy, yet also places him in this very much ‘female’ space; no matter how I looked at it, I could find explanations both for an opinion in favor of this decision (the way a lot of trans men’s problems are defined by our patriarchal society seeing them as women) as well as some for an opinion against this decision (the fact that it could be read as the show ultimately deciding he’s ‘female-aligned’, etc.) and though I won’t be discussing this decision in-depth, I still possess that it’s an event worth examining from different lenses.
Now, onto the actual element that got me heated about Kaoru serving as a parallel to Momoe’s struggles: Kaoru was not only sexually assaulted by a man who’s always thought of him as a ‘pretty, delicate girl’, his death directly relates to the fact that he was abused and then impregnated by this man for not living up to his gross ideal of what a man and a woman are; contrast this to Momoe, who pretty much gets the treatment Kaoru would love to have: she’s pretty much right off the bat seen as a guy, she’s fawned over by women because of this fact as well, they literally call her ‘Momotaro’, etc. Taking all of this into account, it’s simply impossible for me to be okay with a comparison that ultimately decides a cisgender person’s discomfort is, in any sort of way, on equal grounds as a (might I remind you, dead) trans person’s basic human rights.
All in all, though her episode made me take a bigger liking to her character, it also served to almost perfectly highlight the very problem of her existence, as well as the “struggles” she’s intended to represent; I don’t hate Momoe in any sort of way, and though I know there must be someone somewhere who relates to her, I also think that they could’ve done something way more meaningful with her had they just made some changes that made her more realistic (as in, make her at least be LGBT rather than just cis and heterosexual); I will be patiently waiting for the finale, and who knows? Maybe something does change about her in the end, that would be even more of a pleasant surprise.
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The Maid Class Analysis
Maids are those who are often thought to only be a servant to those around them, answering to every beck and call that someone higher in authority than them gives. Rarely ever catching a break or being shown much respect, instead tending to play the role of a silent caretaker - a person meant to be seen rather than heard. When whatever job they have been assigned for the time being has been completed, they are often shunted aside, locked away in waiting until the next chore must be done by someone with such a delicate, skittish touch. Oftentimes Maids are those looked down upon - they are the underdogs who no one ever sings about, no one ever makes murals in their memory, rarely given the kindness and respect they so deeply deserve.
Yet, it is also the Maid who is meant to be the one to keep order in one fashion or another. They are the ones who clean, after all - whether that cleaning is merely tidying up any dust or grime collected over the years, or the mess leftover by those surrounding the Maid. To be rather blunt, the Maid is one who is underappreciated, as well as underestimated in how large of a part they play in the groups they are a part of. Chances are that a Maid is the reason for countless important, largely defining moments for one or even several people they have come across. Maids leave impacts wherever they go, whether they realize this or not. Much like the scrubbing of a cloth against a wall, the bristles of a broom on a dirty floor, or the gentle feathers on a dusty desk - a Maid will always leave a mark wherever they depart from; good and bad alike.
Although some of what has been described may describe that of a typical, non-Classpect related Maid, those who are bound to this creation Class are ones who go through these similar struggles. The life of a Maid is rarely ever an easy one, as they often will face countless challenges along the way of - to be quite honest - their entire existence. One of the biggest defining struggles of a Maid is their Aspect itself. More specifically, the fact that their Aspect is something that has nearly consumed every last piece of the Maid’s world - themself included. While at first it may seem like a play-on-words for a Maid’s Classpect title to be “Maid of Aspect”, there is an unfortunate truth to such a label; one in which the Maid never truly agreed to in the first place.
The Maid is one who has a seemingly endless supply of their Aspect to the point where it feels almost inescapable to the Maid themself if they ever wished to get away from it. Down to the Maid’s very own decision making - their Aspect is a weight placed on their back and shoulders from the exact moment they were born, and it is one that has rarely ever seemed to become lighter, no matter what they do. As much of their Aspect they have, it is rarely ever something that truly benefits the Maid. In fact, for some Maids, their Aspect is something that is extremely debilitating - an oppressive force that has its claws dug in deeply into the Maid’s heart and soul. Even an Aspect as seemingly beneficial as Space, Life, Breath, Blood, Light, etc. would have their own downsides to someone as unfortunate as the Maid.
They are someone who could be argued to be at constant war with their Aspect, one side always trying to dominate over the other since, if the Maid is not entirely careful, their Aspect could eventually overthrow them entirely - leaving only a lifeless husk of the Aspect to wander around and serve whoever calls their name. However, that is only one of the struggles that the Maid faces, yet there is no doubt that it is still one of the biggest and most difficult obstacles in their way. Unlike the Prince or Bard who seek to destroy their Aspect yet must instead learn how to destroy through it, or the Knight who must learn how to wield their Aspect like a shield or blade, the Maid is one must learn how to put the excessive amount of their Aspect to good use. Although it appears to be a force that only wishes to oppress and perhaps even damage the Maid, it is still up to them to figure out what exactly they wish to do with it. Unfortunately, they won’t ever be able to truly rid themselves of their Aspect, there is no doubting that. That doesn’t entirely mean they have to simply learn to live alongside such a lingering, almost oppressive force, though. There may be some Maids who do find a purpose for their Aspect, one way or another.
Of course, there are the variety who don’t wish to even associate with it and may even be afraid to become accidentally, completely submissive to it. In these cases, they will most likely go with the option of ignoring or even running away from any and everything that has to do with their Aspect. Whether it is avoiding discussing it, places or locations that are filled with it, people who are linked to it, etc, there will always be the Maids who will merely try to rebel against it as much as they can. In a way, it could be seen as them running away from the duties and responsibilities tied into their Class. Maids are often a crucial part for any group that has been given the privilege of having one amongst them, after all.
Before heading into the powers of a Maid, and just how they can put the excessive amounts of their Aspect to good use, let’s take a moment to reflect on the social life of a Maid, as well as the overall personality this busy and bustling Class are known to have. Starting off, Maids are those who are quite dedicated to doing what is best - at least in when it falls under the light of what they deem to be the most important. If there is one thing Maids dislike, it is having their time and energy wasted on a job, person, or thing, especially if it all turns out to be pointless in the end. This is often because Maids can become extremely dedicated to anything, as well as anyone, that they put their mind to. Maids tend to enjoy working towards some type of goal, fulfilling a promise, making a dream into reality - these are often the things they will deem as far more important than anything else in their life. However, these things that a Maid views as being the most important and deserving of their care and attention will always take the top of their to-do list, pushing aside anything and anyone else closer towards the bottom.
When a Maid has chosen to commit themself to a belief, individual, cause, group, task, or what have you, then they will do whatever they can to make sure the end product will always be one of perfection. Details are often a large priority for a Maid, especially when it comes to their own private or personal plans, projects, or otherwise creative endeavors. If there is one thing out of place or not exactly perfect, chances are it will be something that will fester and gnaw away at the Maid’s mind and emotional state until one of two things happen. They will either get to fully delve into their project, perfecting every last nook and cranny of it, or they will become fully enraged that their plan or project has not become the best it could be, and may even go as far as to tear apart or throw out whatever it was that they spent so long working on. Oftentimes, when a Maid puts in so much effort, energy, and time into a project, they inevitably begin to associate their very own worth with that project, seeing it as their sole purpose in life. As such, when their project is incapable of reaching such a state of perfection, what does that say about them? That they are not perfect, but rather flawed, and will never, ever be able nor allowed to reach such a state of perfection?
As eager as Maids can be in regards to dedicating themselves to something, they are often just as quick to begin neglecting themselves if they deem their own health to be not as important as other chores, tasks, or even people. On the other hand, a Maid may be one to seek out ways to live their personal best life; one of luxury, peace, success, and so much more. In order to do so, however, they will often begin neglecting everything and everyone else around them - including their own Aspect. If they believe that their Aspect is truly holding them back, then they will often invite others to come and take their own bits and pieces of it, if only so that it will allow some temporary peace for the Maid. Little does the Maid know that this is one of the biggest, most self-destructive mistakes to make. That is something to be discussed later. As the Maid builds themself up to be a person of grand appearances, wealth, health, and more, they will only truly be able to achieve this by stepping on the toes, backs, and shoulders of other people and places around them. To simply put it, the Maid is one who could either become the most selfless person in the world, or the most selfish.
No matter how a Maid may present themself towards the world or even the people they meet, it is best to keep in mind that, in life, there is always a weak point to even the grandest, most breath-taking structures. For the Maid, it should come as no surprise that it is their willingness to help anyone they deem worthy or in need of such care. Although some could merely say it is the friendships and relationships in the Maid’s life that is their weak point, that is a point which assumes every Maid has any relationships - real or otherwise - to speak of. In reality, Maids are those who will often have large, open hearts that tend to steer towards being caring souls. Every Maid has their own soft spot for at least one individual, whether they care to admit it or not. While there is nothing inherently wrong with wanting to help those who are in need of support, mending, or even love, there is a flaw in being a person so quick and eager to be the one who helps anyone who cries loud enough. Give a wild animal some food, and chances are it will come back. Give a person an inch, and they will eventually ask for another, then another, until they have claimed an entire mile. Allow someone into a section of your heart, showing them unconditional love and support, and chances are that someone will inevitably come around and ask for more than what they are already getting. To simply put, the Maid is one who is often a victim of being used by others - their kind, trusting, loving nature being seen as just another slab of rotting meat for vultures to swoop in and peck away at.
Maids will rarely often do anything about this, as their sympathy - or perhaps even empathy - is that which runs extremely deep; coursing through every vein in their body. The longer the Maid allows for such selfish souls to strip away all that they have and all that they are, hoever, and eventually the Maid will be left with nothing to give but the biggest part of their entire person: their Aspect. Yes, even the Aspect of the Maid can fall victim to being mistreated and even abused by those in the Maid’s life. If these vultures see a chance to have it, then they will stop at nothing to sink their talons into its metaphysical flesh, during which the Maid, too, shall suffer greatly.
Even though the Maid may hold grievances towards their Aspect for all the trouble it has brought them, this force is still a fact of their personality that they simply cannot ignore forever nor allow it to be destroyed, stolen away from them, or manipulated into something it is not meant to be. Although Maids are capable of standing up for and taking care of themselves it’s their lack of confidence - or rather the fear of stepping out of line - that is often what holds them back. Rather, it is their submissive, conflict-avoidant nature that so often lands them in situations of mistreatment. When a Maid has had enough of such a thing, however, there is no doubt that the Maid will make quite the show of declaration that not only have they had enough, but that their services are now closed off to anyone; allies and enemies alike.
Within every songbird is a phoenix, waiting for the fires to come and unleash their true, untameable spirits. Within every Maid is a person waiting for the day where someone will repay their kindness and free them of their shackles. The company in which the Maid finds themself within is often wide and extremely diverse, if only because the Maid is someone who attracts people of all walks of life. Yet as many people as the Maid is happy to know, so comes the stress of having to figure out who is truly a friend and who is merely a wolf hiding amidst the shrouded masses of the Maid’s social group. After all, they are someone who is often prone to falling prey to the gnashing teeth and razor claws of monstrous people, and so it might be likely for them to develop a sense of anxiety or underlying trust issues towards the people around them. On the other hand, they may also be just as quick to dismiss all previous negative, toxic relationships as flukes, mistakes, small errors in their own judgement that will never, ever happen again. The Maid is meant to be perfect, are they not? No perfect being would ever allow such a silly thing to happen over, and over, and over, and over again. If there is anything the Maid is, it would be perfect with no flaws to speak of whatsoever.
People who are aware of the Maid often are those who are either extremely eager to try and befriend, spoil, and care for the Maid, but there may be just as many who are off-putted and unnerved by the Maid, sometimes finding them, their mannerisms, or their ideologies and philosophies on anything to be perturbing or even downright upsetting. Just as well, there are others who are looking to only use them and their trusting, kind-hearted ways for selfish, twisted reasons that rest within such tainted hearts. Despite all of this, though, the Maid will typically, and simply, sit in the center of it all; appreciating and loving every last person to ever show them kindness and care. If there is one thing for certain amongst most, if not all, Maids, it is that they are more often than not complete and utter hopeless romantics in some fashion or another. Whether this means the poetic, literary type of romance; of love for the innocent, tender, far more natural ways of life, or maybe it is the emotional sense of romance that comes with some variation of attraction. Maids wish to dedicate themselves to something, but they will almost always be wanting to dedicate themselves to someone more than anything else.
When it comes to a group setting, Maids are often those who play a far more neutral role in everything that transpires amongst everyone else. Rarely, if ever, are they the ones to ever start something of great importance. If anything, they are the ones meant to see that everything plays out as it is meant to; maintaining order, coherence and appearance in the greater narrative of it all. If life is a play, then the Maid is often the set designer - the one who pushes every set piece, plot device, etc. into place. Whether this is done by their own want to do so, or if their hand is being forced by someone or something else, this is often something that depends on the Maid and whichever predicament they find themself within. No matter what, though, even when it seems that the Maid is the root cause of one plot point, positive, negative, or otherwise, it is quite likely that they were forced into such a position of center-stage-performance. A director, unseen, pulling the curtains back far too early or turning on a stagelight at the wrong moment. Do not take this as Maids being deemed as unimportant or even disposable, however. On the contrary, Maids are one of the most crucial parts for anything, as well as anyone, to function in a world full of plot holes and loose threads. It is merely that due to their title of Maid, others tend to downplay the dire importance in someone such as them.
The biggest reason for the Maid’s importance is that of their powers - their abilities to affect and leave grand ripples in wherever they go and whoever they meet. There has often been some debate as to a Maid’s true powers for as long as they have been around. The two biggest powers that stand on the top is that of whether a Maid is one who creates their Aspect, or creates through it, or if they are those who heal their Aspect, or heal through it. Their counterpart Class, Sylph, is one that has been noted to have healing properties. As such, would it not make sense for the Maid to have such powers, as well? Well, personally speaking, the powers of the Maid are much like that of a Knight: far more completed when one tries to put them down on paper. The powers of the Maid are that of someone who creates their Aspect while also capable of healing it, or they can create through their Aspect so that they may heal through it.
Quite a mouthful, as well as seeming quite convoluted, no? If one were to wish to shorten it or make it far easier to read, then the Maid’s powers are that of merely creating their Aspect, or creating through it. Nevertheless, the reason for this extensive conclusion is merely one question that seemed to pop up when personally pondering the powers of this Class: what is, ultimately, the difference between creating and healing? Is healing not the process of creating something better than before, building up from the rubble of what has been soiled and destroyed? Is creating not healing an empty space where something once was, only to be torn out one way or another?
Let’s take a step back and revisit the fact that Maids are ones whose kind, loving natures are often taken advantage of - used and abused by those far more cruel and selfish in this world. When the Maid, or any of their true friends for that matter, is incapable of keeping their Aspect - and therefore themself - safe from the talons and jagged beaks of those who seek to consume all the Maid has to offer, what will ultimately be left of it; of them? Tatters, ragged clothes, bruises, tears - bloodied and forgotten by those who only sought to tear down the Maid and take away all that they are. A broken person in an even more broken world, with their Aspect left in shreds.
As much as the Maid may hold hesitance and perhaps even ill-feelings towards such an ingrained part of themself, it would be no different to hating one’s own hands, or their legs, or even their lungs or heart. Their Aspect is as big a part of the Maid, as well as everyone else around them. Because of this, is just as vulnerable as any other part of these mortal, organic coils. Who is to be the one, then, to come forward and mend what has broken? Who is to be the one who takes charge and heals what has been harmed; to create, heal, and restore balance not only within themself but wherever else the Maid’s Aspect may lie? After all, a Maid’s Aspect is something that completely defines them and their actions just as much as it is a fog that lingers upon everything they encounter throughout their life.
Maids are creators first and foremost, whether it is taking their Aspect - or what is left of it - and creating more of it so as to not only benefit themself but the world around them, or they create through their Aspect, honing in on all of its properties, perspectives, and forms so as to build, restore, and configure whatever they wish or need. The idea that Maids are healers is merely an offshoot of their creative powers, which can occasionally have secondary healing effects on those who are touched by the Maid. A Maid may restore the Hope within another person via creating it, but some could see this as the Maid healing that person’s Hope directly. It is an extremely thin line that the powers of the Maid walk upon, always teetering towards one definition over the other.
This balancing act is why, personally speaking, Maids will be remarked as those who create their Aspect, or create through it, as their primary power. Any possible healing that comes from these acts of creation is uncommonly an accident, though some may try to claim it more as a miracle than anything else. Let’s not forget, as well, the questions brought up before and their core themes: what is truly the difference between creating and healing? Does the difference truly even matter? For some, yes, it does, but for others, they may be just fine accepting this idea that thematically and in regards to action, there truly is very little that separates the two of them.
As for the journey in which the Maid would go about unlocking these powers, that can become quite an elaborate tale to tell. To give a brief summary here, the Maid’s journey to unlocking their powers is often one of great pain, loss, and suffering that will always force the Maid out of their comfort zone - if they even had one to begin with. To further elaborate, the Maid is one whose life is one marked with struggles, internal or otherwise. Ever since the Maid takes their very first breath of air, their Aspect will latch onto and embed itself throughout the entire Maid’s mind, body, and soul. One could argue that the Aspect is like that of a parasite to the Maid, always taking, taking, and taking, yet rarely ever giving anything back to the Maid. What can be said about this argument is how that is only a slightly accurate description of the relationship between a Maid and their Aspect. If the question being begged in one’s mind is ‘well then, what is the relationship’, one might be slightly disappointed to hear that, as is often the case, it simply depends on the Maid and their circumstances. Ultimately, the relationship between them is an extremely complicated one, but there will always be one thread that runs throughout all of these cases; the ever-looming threat of being totally and utterly consumed by one’s Aspect.
Much akin to Heirs, Maids are those whose Aspects are extremely difficult to shake off. Unlike Heirs, however, who simply drift ever closer to the blackhole that is their Aspect, the Maid is one who has already fallen into some sense of servitude to their Aspect. It is already a force that controls almost everything in their life, whether it is seen in a Maid of Void constantly being overlooked or left with countless secrets, or a Maid of Hope being shoved into a box of rules, standards, and laws for them to play by, or surrounded by countless people, places, and things related to faith and beliefs. The Aspect to a Maid is ever-present, almost to a suffocating extent, and it is one that rarely ever benefits the Maid directly. If anything, the Aspect of a Maid is a force that only seeks to bring torment, harm, and perhaps even death to such an unwilling victim of circumstances.
Yet as much as their Aspect is something that seeks to harm them, and as much as the Maid may come to despise their Aspect, neither of them could truly exist without the other. At the end of the day, though, a Maid’s Aspect is that which seemingly only wishes to envelop the Maid, making them into a vessel only meant to carry out and fulfill tasks related to their Aspect. This is something that often terrifies Maids, and, as such, they may try to seek out ways to handle such a ravenous beast.
Perhaps some Maids subconsciously seek out destructive people; those who will rip and tear and use up all the resources and energy the Maid has to offer, their Aspect included. Maybe it is simply an unfortunate side effect of their naive, far too loving and kind nature. No matter what, though, there will inevitably come a handful of times throughout the Maid’s life where their gentle, near submissive, way of socializing will be taken hold and advantage of. This will come to happen until, finally, the core of their very being has been revealed for all to see, and the Maid’s Aspect will be shown no mercy. The brightest flower, the freshest and most succulent fruit, the most healthy, bountiful soil, and the most tender of meat is that which will always be torn apart and ravaged the most when it comes to those selfish souls.
Although the Maid may have thought it good that their Aspect will finally be chopped down like an invasive plant entangling them, suffocating them, a horrific discovery would be awaiting them. As their Aspect is savagely and haphazardly used and abused, exhausted and ragged from a never-ending crescendo of everyone wanting to get their own sliver of Breath, or of Mind, or of Light, there would come a point where the Maid would realize that once all their Aspect has gone, they will have nothing left to offer to those around them. If the Maid were to truly allow for all pieces of their Aspect to be ripped away from them and consumed by these wolves and vultures, then what would be their purpose? Who would see any point in keeping the Maid as a companion if they cannot dazzle everyone with their Aspect and what it holds? Moreover, who would the Maid even be without their Aspect? Who is a Maid if not their entire Aspect, flaws and everything?
If they are to survive, then the Maid cannot allow their hatred and rivalry with their Aspect to persist. As much as it has tried to destroy them - to overtake them and make into a husk - such a similar fate is what awaits the Maid if they are to have every last part of their Aspect picked clean from their soul. The two of them are one in the same - two forces who oppose yet must continue to coexist with one another; especially if neither wishes to be left with a longing sense of emptiness. Because of this, the Maid must not only learn how they and their Aspect can coexist with another, but also how to save both forces from being destroyed for good.
Although some of the Maid’s friends played a part in this act of self defamation, it will also be the Maid’s friends who will help them and their Aspect not only become whole again, but, ultimately, become one. Indeed, the Maid must first learn how they can help to restore their Aspect - create it so as to help fill in the gaping spaces that lack its presence - before learning how to create through it. There are many Maids who see such a long-winded journey as far too daunting, and so they often abide by the ways of only ever creating and restoring their Aspect. For as powerful as it may sound, there still lies that underlying tension and fear of losing themself in their very own Aspect. After all, in order for them to create through their Aspect, they essentially have to swear themself over to its whims, ways, and wires, becoming synchronized and aligned with one another to allow peak performance of power to occur.
However, those who hide and run away from such power will never be able to truly unlock their full potential, even when it comes to their base powers of creating their Aspect. Never will they be able to fully heal, create, or restore what has been lost of their Aspect, not if they don’t fully submit to it. Even the Maids who know this and still choose not to are often content as is when it comes to their powers. Perhaps it is because they still hold a grudge to those who hurt them, and as such see no reason as to why they should make such a grand sacrifice for a few saps who most likely would never do the same in return. Who is to say other than the Maid themself? Who is to say even the Maid knows the reason for this defiance.
At the end of the day, the base power to create their Aspect is one meant to heal their Aspect. Oftentimes, though, they do end up playing the role of a healer to those around them, as well. The longer the Maid creates and heals their Aspect, the more they will come to realize how truly important they are to not only the people around them, but in the grander schemes of everything, as well.
By creating their Aspect, the Maid is one who manages to maintain the balance needed for everything, and everyone, to function and grow. They are the ones who make certain every last domino falls, exactly as it needs to be. Whenever there is a hole to be filled, chances are that the Maid will do that job well, if only in a rather arbitrary and seemingly convoluted way of doing so. Such a thing is not uncommon for Maids, though, as they do often show themselves to be either victims of outside forces - often ones far out of their own control - or they are ones who orchestrate such a thing; going against the grain as they see fit.
Their minds are ones of grand creativity, and their powers are ones most certainly meant to accentuate such a trait. Even if a Maid never ventures further on their path of creation, even the base power of creating their Aspect is one that can surely evolve into something extremely grandiose. A Maid of Doom capable of wiping out or rooting away a hundred mile radius of any life with a wave of their hand, a Maid of Breath creating a storm so disastrous it could rip away entire mountains, or even a Maid of Hope who can bring back a lawful and justified balance; soothing whatever rageful beasts may be surrounding them. The Maid and their Aspect have always meant to work side by side, beneficiaries to one another; when such synchrony has even been partially fulfilled, the Maid is one who can prove themself to be quite the daunting force to behold.
Once the Maid has proven themself well equipped in their power of creation, so will come the moment where they can decide whether they wish to further their power or not. To become one with their Aspect, to create through it, is a power not many Maids may wish to partake in as spoken of before. However, for the ones who do take up this challenge, knowing the risks that may come in their possible failure, they are the ones who will not only truly know their Aspect, but will act as a type of ambassador for it. They will represent all that their Aspect is - the good, and the bad - in order to become one of the finest creators of their time.
By creating their Aspect, there may come a time where the Maid finds themself to once again have an excessive amount of it. It is through this excess that the Maid will find their power of creating through it; honing in on what has bubbled over the brim of the pot, the Maid will be able to create whatever they wish from such concentrated amounts of their Aspect. Through stardust itself, a Maid of Space could create what they wish - or what they need, a Maid of Mind could use their ability to foresee consequences of actions to create the ultimate battle strategy, or a Maid of Time could create a perfectly synced series of events across countless timelines; dominoes falling until they make the final push that allows for the Alpha Timeline to continue pushing forward.
To create through one’s Aspect is to use all that is, was, and ever will be to one’s advantage. However, much like their base power of simply creating their Aspect, these actions tend to have an odd offshoot, or rather side effect, of healing to them. When a Maid creates their Aspect, they may unknowingly be healing someone that they never even considered to be in need of such a service. The same goes for the Maids who create through their Aspect, though this can be one on a far broader, or perhaps even more personal, scale. After all, when creating through one’s Aspect, it is often an action that requires a more direct approach from the Maid. No longer do they sweep the halls or dust the artifacts of a castle, but they now have a far better say as to what happens in the castle; they have more control over it. Although they will never reach the levels of control that a Muse or Lord holds over the castle that is their Aspect, they most certainly are ones who hold the ability to come close to such power.
The role of a Maid is one of great importance, yet also one often looked over. They are the ones who help to bring and maintain balance in a group, no matter how many conflicts seem to threaten the stability of it all. Although such a task is one that often calls upon their powers of creation to be used, and still be given very little reward for their efforts, such a fact is one that the Maid can learn to live with. Of course, there may be moments of hot-headedness from the Maid when it comes to their efforts of healing and creating being unacknowledged, but so is often the life of the Creative Classes. After all, some of the best creators are those who were rarely truly appreciated during their time of life.
A Maid is a healer, creator, and a cleaner. They are meant to fix what has been broken, polish what has become rusted, grimy, or smudged, and, most importantly, love what has been neglected. Their Aspect was once left in such a state of disrepair, and the Maid is not one afraid to admit that it was by their own hand. Becoming lost in pettiness, hatred, and fear is often problem the Maid is known to have. It is only when they enter such a state of mind that not only themself, but other things and peoples around them will begin to truly suffer and descend into a state of disarray. After all, when the bringer of balance no longer does their job, who is going to be the one to look after the castle and the people who reside in its kingdom? Perhaps the Knight, though they are most certainly not ones meant to clean things up.
No, a group without a Maid, or at least one who does not play their part, is most certainly a group destined to be filled with many moments of internal and external strife, complications, and struggles. Considering the nature of the Maid, and how people are often drawn towards them, chances are that the Maid will most likely find at least one or a few people within the group worth the time and energy in healing whatever they lack of the Maid’s Aspect. After all, even the most stubborn Maids will always have their weak points - those bleeding hearts inside of their chests - and there will always be the people they simply cannot say no to, for better or for worse.
Ultimately, though, a Maid is someone who merely looks towards doing the right thing - even if that “right thing” holds questionable morals in order to achieve it. Maids can be excellent friends and allies to have, primarily due to their dedicated nature. While at first they may have been more than ready to put someone in front of themself and their Aspect, the Maid has learned through all of the hardships and trauma from such self-destructive actions that, truly, if one wishes to be the change in other people’s lives, or even the world, they must first change how they treat themself, flaws and everything. They have learned that in order to see the true value and worth in everything and everyone, they must first value themself and their Aspect.
Once they manage to climb over this obstacle that is their hatred and/or fear of their Aspect, they will manage to see the good in not only it, but also themself. When they achieve this state of realization will they be allowed to begin their own journey of personal healing. Such a journey will be long, and at times seemingly treacherous. As long as the Maid keeps to the path that they set forth themself, then it will be their true self that will be there to greet them. When they shake hands, they will finally become the mystical, magical mender they were born to be. For it is not the Witch who sews the clothes and relationships when they have become torn and ragged, it is not the Bard who keeps everything in order and equally distributed, and it is not the Thief who is capable of restoring what once seemed lost and forgotten. No, it is the Maid who does this, and it is why they are one of the most important players out of any of them.
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History 3 Trapped Filming Diary (full English translation) - Days 41-50
Masterpost here.
I don’t own the book so I can’t post my scans of the pictures that came with it. So I included some other pictures of the scenes that were being filmed. These pics belong to LINE TV or Choco Media, or I’ve taken screenshots from the episodes or the behind-the-scenes.
Read days 41-50 under the cut.
Day 41
On this day of shooting it happened to be Christmas, and the crew, waiting for the evening shooting process, enjoyed a Christmas gift exchange. Shaofei gave out a book; according to him it was a very inspirational book. A crew member who does hair and make-overs nearby opened it and laughed jokingly: “What kind of ‘inspiration’ do you mean?”, causing Shaofei’s thoughts to immediately go into another direction to the point of him not even being able to say it out loud (I can tell you: he was very bashful!). The whole crew also acknowledged that the most creative gift was a big bunch of green onions⁕ from Sanxing. When this present was opened the whole crew burst out in crazy laughter, but it need also be said that this was a most memorable gift.
⁕ Sanxing is famous for its spring onions! They even have a little museum dedicated to green onions there.
Also, what kind of book did Jake gift someone? 👀
Day 42
The day after Christmas, Boss Tang arrived at work, and the first thing he did was accept his gift from the Christmas gift exchange from the day before. So what did Boss Tang receive?
*ding ding* The answer is 20 Christmas trees and a bottle of “Indian Spiritual Oil”⁕ At the appearance of this gift, everyone nearby immediately laughed loudly, and I also silently expressed my heartfelt wishes for Tang Yi’s and Meng Shaofei’s happiness.
For today’s scenes, basically the whole ‘world’ had to be there: Unit 3, Tang Yi, A De, Hong Ye, Daoyi and Jingtang were all present, so the set was really lively. What was shot that day were the scenes after Hongye and Shaofei were injured in the parking lot. In order to increase the conflictual character of these scenes, the director assigned each actor their own, individual combination. What was interesting is that during rehearsals, the cameramen all quickly approached the actors like a large quantity of reporters. A De said smiling that the group of people was so large that it looked like an oncoming tank and he could only silently take the ‘card position’⁕ each time.
⁕ This oil is basically like viagra...but topical instead of taking a pill....It’s a natural plant oil but it contains some anaesthetics which will irritate the skin a bit (making your you-know-what more erect as it grows hot) and the anaesthetics will also cause you to last longer. Ahem. Let’s all imagine Chris receiving this gift. 😂
⁕ The card position comes from a basketball or football game. It means that during the game, when the ball is in the air, the player accurately judges the effective landing point of the ball, takes the lead in the opponent's position, and blocks the opponent out of the best position to gain control. Here it means that Stanley just chose the best position to gain control/the upper hand in the scene.
Day 43
Today we continued to shoot the hospital scenes. Shaofei said smiling that today was another aptly-named day of “earning money while lying down,” as he was lying down from the first scene in the morning to the last scene in the evening. After several consecutive days of intensive shooting, the hospital scenes were back in Taoyuan. Shaofei said he had been getting out of bed at 4am in the morning for several days in a row, and that day was no exception. So during the moments when he wasn’t in the shots, he could openly but stealthily catch up on some sleep in the bed, which made everyone present pretty envious.
Zhaozi just gets better the more he acts. Just look at his slightly wrinkled brows.
Day 44
In the last episode, Zhaozi took Tang Yi to see Shaofei [in the hospital] for the last time. Tang Yi, who had carelessly pulled the trigger and accidentally shot Shaofei was already handcuffed. He told Shaofei he would hand He Hang as well as Zhou Guanzhi over to the police. Zhou Guanzhi was the enemy who killed his father. In these past four years, Tang Yi’s biggest goal was to single-handedly murder his father’s killer. For Tang Yi to now agree to let Zhou Guanzhi live and to hand him over to the police, meant Tang Yi had made the ultimate concession.
Because he had persisted in his revenge, he had caused his lover to be hospitalized with a gunshot. Since meeting Tang Yi, Shaofei had been assaulted in big and small ways, and suffered injuries because of him. Tang Yi discovered that his stubbornly insisting on having his own way was a big factor in Shaofei getting hurt. If this continued, Shaofei would one day be ‘killed’ by Tang Yi. Kept apart by handcuffs, kissing your lover like that; what kind of plot could be more cruel than that?
Tang Yi, even while being handcuffed, was very witty/playful. He didn’t forget to stick his tongue out to the camera.
Day 45
Long time no see! I believe that people who have watched <Right Or Wrong< should not be too unfamiliar with Dr. Jintang’s “uncle-in-law” Jiang Zhaopeng. He is Qiu Zhiyu whom we haven’t seen for a while. Before filming, these two cultivated their understanding of their lines by videochatting [i.e. they practiced their lines] (and also cultivated the signals between both of their phones). One of the most frightening things in filming is the screen of a cellphone. Apart from this scene, the drama shows many different mobile phone screens; every time a call had to be made, or when a LINE conversation happened, etc. Only, whether or not the signal would be good, is an element that no one can control. If the signal is not good, phone calls won’t go through, or the moment when the phone rings doesn’t match the plot. Sometimes it can take a good number of takes, not to mention that this scene needed a video call. If the signal would not be good, the video and the sound might have been chopped. But we had a close call and the signal in the hospital was very stable, allowing us to be able to smoothly complete the take.
Zijian, who portrays Jiang Jintang, has a lively and witty personality. He would often say crazy things that amused the crew. In the evening, we filmed that Shaofei followed Tang Yi to the hospital to see Jintang [the massage scene]. Jintang wanted to angrily quarrel with Meng Shaofei, because he didn’t expect them to arrive together. His red face, his hard breathing and his stammering made all the staff on the scene instantly almost collapse from laughter. Even Shaofei, who was doing the scene with him, and Tang Yi, who was lying down behind them, couldn’t keep in their laughter.
At another rehearsal, Jintang was planning to jump on Tang Yi’s back, but because he hadn’t well coordinated his position, Boss Tang’s knees hit Jintang straight in his ‘important parts’. The staff who were on the scene jokingly told him to jump on the spot, and he actually did it. This was also a ‘pain in the balls.’⁕
⁕ Same expression was used in day 37. It’s more literal here. You can see this happening in the behind-the-scenes.
Day 46
Today we filmed father and son Chen Wenhao and Tang Yi meeting in front of Lizhen’s grave. The weather at the cemetery site was very unstable. Sometimes an uninterrupted drizzle floated by, and at other times wind and rain became quite strong. Occasionally, the sun would stealthily sneak out from the clouds to join in on the fun, adding many changes to the shooting. But the two actors were not in the slightest affected by these elements. As if their surroundings were all congealed together, the two looked at each other and cried really heart-wrenchingly. Afterwards, Chengyang [Chris] also frankly admitted that for this scene his mood was very complex, and it was very hard on him. Tang Yi stood in front of his biological mother’s tomb, and his biological father, whom he once thought to be her killer, walked up to him. At that moment, that kind of “crying” already wasn't just tears simply shed from sadness anymore.
When he heard the gunshot as he exited the graveyard without even looking back, Chris said that his heart was really hurting so much that he almost couldn’t go on.
A big thank you to teacher Jiakui, who plays Wenhao, to give [Chris] ample ability, and to push him beyond the limits of what he could do. What is even more special, is that today was, coincidentally, also Chris’ birthday. To shoot such a meaningful scene on his birthday and falling apart crying like that, really must have left a deep impression on him.
Day 47
The day when the entire Unit 3 team got together, happened to be the very last day of 2018. Today’s MVP was Junwei [played by Ethan Liu]. Everyone most likely knows about the meeting between Unit 3 and the international criminal police division where Junwei was tasked with reporting duties.
That day Junwei was constantly drilling and rehearsing, because all his lines needed to be correctly and fluently spoken for that role to be acted out well. One of the biggest causes for stress is that when you start failing takes, the whole crew and all the actors are just waiting. One can imagine that that is a very big pressure.
Originally everyone joked and said that before noon they would surely be able to go home to celebrate the New Year, but in the end, it took until in the afternoon for the first scene to finish smoothly and everyone on Unit 3 could begin to plan how they would spend New Year’s Eve. But our poor Captain and Shaofei had to stay behind to continue the next scene. Shaofei felt wronged and said to Zhaozi: “Where is the morality in him [the captain] being so happy?”
Day 48
Outside it was drizzling, but inside, the room was brimming with nervous energy as Tang Yi took Jack to negotiate with Old Ke, while Shaofei from his side and Unit 3 rushed inside as an important step and wiped out the place.⁕
While waiting for their scenes, each of the Unit 3 were doing their own activities. First Shaofei looked for a quiet place in the room and silently sat reading the script for the future scenes. With his usual style, he would use differently coloured pens to write down dialogue that belongs to Jake and Shaofei.⁕ Zhaozi, in turn, would be lying on the very big bed inside the room, and would both be talking to Junwei, having a pillow fight with Jack and taking selfies with his cellphone.
And how did Tang Yi spend the time waiting for his next scene? The answer is that he had rolled himself up in a quilt and fell into a deep sleep. No matter if Shaofei would loudly yell, “Where is Tang Yi?” outside the room, Tang Yi slept through it all.
⁕ The very first scenes of the whole show, when Shaofei and his team barges through the door! Some of the very first words we ever hear coming out of Shaofei’s mouth are “Where is Tang Yi?” MY HEART. This show is so well-made.
⁕ There’s an example of what Jake’s script looked like in the “HIStory 3: Trapped The Making of...” book. ankdlgdndkgn it’s the hospital balcony scene. The thing that he writes in black, between the two red exclamation marks... “This is the show’s first kiss!!! (Vixen Andy doesn’t count).” WHY IS HE SO CUTE?
Day 49
For shooting the scenes at the exterior of the police station, we borrowed the Xizhi branch police building. That Xizhi branch building which only opened in 2017, is very new and very beautiful. The interior was also very spacious, so we had plenty of room to use.
On that day there happened to be a major traffic incident in that jurisdiction area, and both clerical and field police officers were busy bustling about. Even news reporting vehicles were driving in and out. We were able to witness the police officers' work that we usually don’t have opportunity to see. Thanks to all the protectors of the people for their hard work.
Today’s Xizhi police station was bustling and lively. Thanks as well to the fans of Director Qingrong who, during the afternoon tea time, came to visit the set and brought snacks like donuts and coffee. In the afternoon the weather turned cold and it started to drizzle. But the fans braved the wind and the rain and came anyway, and even gave handwritten cards to the actors and the director, which was really sweet.
Day 50
Day 2 at the police station. Today’s weather was nothing like yesterday’s “sunny and cloudy with an occasional shower”. Today the sun was shining very brightly, and the temperatures soared straight to 30 degrees. It was the perfect weather to play a song called “I love summer.”
We shot the scene where three members of Unit 3 talked with Jack at the door. They had to walk outside from inside the police station and each time they had to redo the take, everyone went back into the building with a look of total unwillingness. They opened their eyes widely and took a very deep breath, and with a blank look in their eyes they wiped their sweat and used a small fan to keep cool. Phew, foreheads were filled with beads of sweat, and everyone’s clothes were also soaked with sweat.
In the afternoon we filmed the scene from the last episode when Boss Tang goes to the police station to wait for Shaofei to get off work, when Jack also happened to ride his motorbike to pick up Zhaozi from work. At that time, the weather was still very sunny. Boss Tang, who wanted to sit on his car’s hood to wait for Shaofei, suddenly yelled out. Apparently the vicious sun had rendered the hood burning hot, which made boss Tang jump up in sudden fright.
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@cloneshipweek
Secrets of the Castle -- Chapter 1 -- Chasing the Chaser
Day 18 | Hogwarts AU
Wrecker/Jesse (feat. Hunter/Tech and Crosshair/Echo)
1,832 words
Seventh year in Defense Against the Dark Arts had, so far, been Wrecker’s favorite class. Professor Kenobi was strict, but he was also fun, even if he didn’t get some of the older man’s jokes. His lessons were well thought out, and over the years had taken the time to help each student individually wherever they needed it, even if it wasn’t for his class. As the head of Gryffindor House, Wrecker expected nothing less. Oh, he wasn’t in Gryffindor himself, but he was well acquainted with students who were. In fact, it was because of how their classes were scheduled this year that this class was now his favorite.
It was the only class he shared with Jesse.
Defense Against the Dark Arts was the only class this year that Hufflepuffs shared with the Gryffindors, and the only class that saw all four houses in the same classroom. This meant a few things. The first, and most important as far as Wrecker was concerned, was that he got to be close to Jesse. He could stare at him, discreetly of course, and laugh at him and his friends, and be amazed by everything Jesse did for a whole uninterrupted two hours.
The other, slightly less important but also a plus, was that he got to be with all of his friends from different houses at the same time aside from outside of the classroom. Fate would have had it that his three best friends were all placed in different houses. It suited Wrecker just fine. As Tech put it, being as close as they are seeing as they’re in different houses breaks the societal norms and stereotypes. Something like that.
Professor Kenobi was running late, which was abnormal, but nothing that anyone gave much thought about. On the contrary, the buzz around the room was focused on the upcoming Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff. Normally, he would join in on the ruckus, poking jabs and taunting the other team, but it felt weird to tease Jesse. He might not have been the captain of the team, that was Rex, but Jesse was a damn good chaser. Wrecker thought he might have made a better beater, seeing how broad and toned his shoulders were, but he couldn’t deny that Jesse was just as talented at being a chaser for the last five years.
“What’s wrong?” Hunter questioned. Of course Hunter would notice something was off. He always did, and it was as endearing as it was incredibly annoying.
“Hm? Surely you aren’t nervous about the match tomorrow?” Tech further questioned as he leaned into Hunter’s side, causing the blue in his robes to fall open. “It’s just an exhibition match. There’s nothing on the line.”
Wrecker knew that. After all, he was his team’s best beater. Well, perhaps that was a bit of a brag. Hardcase was also a great asset, but Wrecker’s ego refused to let him believe he was the best, and his record of hits proved it.
“That’s not it,” Crosshair leaned back in his chair and swished his wand so that little bubbles that were shaped like hearts floated over Wrecker’s head. “He’s just thinking about Jesse again.”
Flushing as dark as the crimson headband that matched Hunter’s robes, Wrecker clapped his hands around the bubbles and popped them in a single motion. “Cut it out, Crosshair!”
His trio of friends share a laugh at his expense at the same time the commotion grabs the attention of others in the classroom. Multiple heads turn to see Wrecker, red faced and scowling, one of them being Jesse’s. Wrecker shrunk in his seat and hid his face. When had he gotten so bad for him? They hardly spoke outside of a few exchanges in the hall or before a game, and it wasn’t usually more than a few words. Still, he groaned under the scrutiny and sighed when Fives playfully smacked him on the shoulder to grab his attention once again.
“Yikes, you’re in deep,” Hunter commented quietly and gently patted Wrecker’s back.
“If I recall correctly,” Tech chided, “you had it so bad that you accidentally cursed yourself with squawking like a chicken every time you spoke for a week just because I smiled at you.”
The memory of Hunter cooing like a bird made Crosshair snicker. “You’re all ridiculous.”
“Yeah?” Hunter raised a brow in Crosshair’s direction and turned to fully face him. “What about you and Echo? As if you didn’t do something completely stupid in his presence when you had a crush on him.”
A silence fell over the small group as they collective tried to think of a time when Crosshair had done something stupid in front of Echo, but none of them came up with anything.
“Wrong,” the Slytherin replied coolly. “I’m more mature than--”
“There was that time when you spilled hot tea down your robes because your hand slipped watching me undress.” Echo’s voice piqued from behind them as he leaned around to peck Crosshair on the cheek. A dark flush abruptly spread on the Crosshair’s cheeks as his friends’ attention was turned to him.
“No one needs to hear about that,” he mumbled, though he didn’t shy away from another soft peck of affection, this time to his lips.
“Surely,” Echo agreed, then glanced in Wrecker’s direction. “Still fussing over Jesse? I don’t understand why you just don’t talk to him.”
Wrecker groaned and ran his large hands over his face. “You guys make it sound so easy!”
“Because it is,” the four of them agreed at once.
“Seriously, Wrecker, just say hi after class,” Echo encouraged before squeezing Crosshair’s shoulder and leaving to join his brother and their friends. “I promise that he won’t bite, unless you’re into that.”
Another round of chuckles made their way around the small group, and Echo winked at Crosshair as he slid into a seat next to Fives, easily falling into their conversation.
“He’s a good one, Cross,” Hunter complimented. “Not sure how he fits in wherever he goes, though.”
Crosshair shrugs. “It’s fine. Fives can be annoying, but Echo usually keeps him in check.”
Wrecker took the time to look in Jesse’s direction again as his friends chatted amongst themselves. Like Echo, Jesse seemed to fit in wherever he wanted to. Conversation and charisma came naturally to him, and there was something about the way that his eyes twinkled when he laughed that made Wrecker’s heart skip a beat.
It was by chance that when Professor Kenobi came through the door that his eyes caught Jesse’s. Time seemed to stop, and Wrecker was sure that he wasn’t breathing, or maybe he was, but somehow Jesse’s gaze made it so he felt too light to need air. At first the gaze was shocking, like Jesse was surprised to see Wrecker there even though they’ve shared a class for months and have been in the same school for the last seven years.
After a moment, however, Jesse’s gaze turned soft, and his chocolate brown eyes sparkled in a way that made Wrecker’s skin prickle with excitement. He couldn’t help it, he smiled at Jesse, albeit shyly. How could he not when there was so much warmth and beauty in something that was just as simple as sharing a gaze?
But then the unthinkable happened, and Jesse smiled back and winked at him.
Oh, Wrecker was convinced now that he wasn’t breathing. He was dead. There was no other rational explanation for what was taking place. This was all an elaborate dream, a vision of what he wished would happen before death claimed him.
“Eyes up, Wrecker.” Professor Kenobi’s voice cut through his reverie, and thin fingers snapped in front of his face. “If you paid half as much attention in class as you did to the antics of your peers you’d be in much better academic shape.”
Blinking several times, Wrecker broke out of the trance he’d been in and watched Professor Kenobi situate the books and scrolls on his desk. “Uh, right.”
As per usual, his commentary caused an uprising in giggles throughout the room, and Wrecker sighed again. For once, he didn’t want to be the class clown, though he had long accepted his role in the school hierarchy. His friends offered sympathetic smiles as they broke into their assigned seating by house.
“Apologies for my tardiness, everyone. I do hope that you took the extended time given to you to double check your research essays on boggarts and how they can affect cursed objects.” Professor Kenobi grinned, undoubtedly knowing full-well that none of them had done such a thing. He listened to the collective groaning about the room before chuckling. “Very well. If you’re all so confident, take out your papers to be collected.”
Wrecker huffed as he rummaged through his belongings to dig out his roll of parchment. He was quite proud of himself for the work he had put into this essay. He didn’t understand a lot, but he was fascinated by boggarts and being able to shift into one’s greatest fear.
What would his boggart turn into if his biggest fear was rejection?
Quickly, he shook the thought from his head. Having found the parchment in question, he set it in front of him and watched as he floated into the air to be gathered with his classmate’s essays. They flitted and fluttered about until they were neatly stacked, then brought down swiftly and gently into a pile on Professor Kenobi’s desk.
He sat back in his seat, tapping his fingers on the desk quietly. Maybe Echo was right and he just had to say something. It couldn’t be all that bad, right? Sure it could, but maybe it was better to find out now then to hold onto hope and wait for another school year to come and go. This was their last year at Hogwarts. After this, who knew where they would all end up. Wrecker hadn’t decided on much of a path for himself, though he thought he had a chance to skate by with his Quidditch skills, but Jesse...he was so talented and smart. He could go off into the world and do anything he wanted and never look back at him.
Nodding to himself, Wrecker steeled his resolve. He chanced another glance at Jesse and smiled again when he noticed that Jesse was already staring back at him with a smile of his own.
“Sorry,” Jesse mouthed to him, then gestured at Professor Kenobi. Was he apologizing for getting Wrecker singled out?
Wrecker waved a dismissive hand and shrugged. It wasn’t all that big of a deal. He was used to it, but it meant a lot to him that Jesse felt like he had to apologize for it.
Their gazes broke again and Professor Kenobi launched into his lecture for the day. Yeah, today was the day. Wrecker was going to do it. He was just going to say hi.
Maybe.
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Hallo! Wie geht's dir? (:
Thank you for your fanart and analyses, it's always fun and interesting to read! Hope this question makes you feel a little bit better. Not a very personal one, but still fun tho. I was wondering ;) AU: the 12 Chosen Children are a soccer team and you're the coach. Where would you place everyone on the field based on personality and skills? (The one that's left can be your assistant trainer)
Hello there, thank you so much for reblogging from me, it really means a lot to me to see people enjoying my outburst. :’) Also, if you ever need more encouragement in falling for Taishirou as well, I’ll be happy to provide assistance.
I had to chuckle when I saw that prompt for the first time - since my blog was, obviously, founded and thrives on football itself, this is basically like “fusing” two of my main interests together. Still, it’s difficult to some extent, simply BECAUSE it’s both been a while and also a thing I want to think about very carefully, but let me give this a try. (Edit: I just realized that I could switch Koushirou and Jyou around, so the left side would be Jyou/Takeru/Yamato/Daisuke and the right side would be Koushirou/Iori/Mimi/Ken and that somehow makes a lot more sense in my head now.)
Taichi: Secondary striker/inside forward. The first thing that seemed absolutely clear to me were the attacking players and, from a canon perspective, Taichi, Sora, Ken and Daisuke are actually playing football. It was still difficult to have their roles clearly defined. Taichi, being the protagonist/main character is basically predestined to shoot the goals, be the main striker, collecting the points. However, both 01 and 2020 indicated that he could be pretty selfless in this regard and be more of a provider/assistant in scoring goals when he has a sustainable partner (which, in this context, would obviously be Sora). Which makes sense when you consider how easily he goes into sacrifice mode for the ones who are important to him... (in German, we call that “hängende Spitze” and even if this is more of an inside joke, I always had to think about Thomas Müller when associating Taichi with this role. Beautiful.)
Yamato: Defensive left midfielder (defensively orientated). While Yamato, in canon, is the second fighter next to Taichi, it didn’t seem right for me to assign him an attacking position. He’s emotional, but more of a thinker and I can see him more keen on distributing balls and making sure nobody crosses their part of the pitch. He’d be on the left side, having to coordinate with Koushirou or Jyou and Takeru being on the left behind him, thus they’re somewhat able to protect each other in that matter.
Sora: Main striker. Okay, look. This is difficult, because Sora’s role throughout the anime is the one of the team mom, taking care of everybody and one would EASILY assign her a defending role at first glance. However, her sporty side gives you a different impression - 01 and 2020 both suggest her making a formidable team with Taichi as attacking players, she’s the one who actually scores the goals there. Then, in 02, she switches over to tennis, single tennis for that matter, which is not a team sport anymore, where you’d assume she’d thrive at. However, she DESPERATELY needs to do something for herself. She is, obviously, still a team player in every other sense of the word, but she HAS this fierceness inside her and we gotta let her shine as the main striker, letting out all her passion. (Look, I just want good things for her, okay.)
Koushirou: Left (or right) centre back (slipping into defensive centre midfielder). This is a fun one and actually one of the most difficult ones. Neither the novel nor 01 tell us what position he played at in the football club, but it is stated that he thought he “wouldn’t have to face people one-on-one if he was in a club emphasizing on teamwork rather than individual achievements”. So if you think about it, there probably isn’t a single position that doesn’t have to get into one-on-one to at least some degree, so his assumption wasn’t 100% correct. There is one art piece for 02 that actually depicts him as a goalkeeper - but I really don’t see him like that. And since he’s my favourite, I will assign him the position of my favourite football player: Centre back. Which still appears somewhat weird, because he’d be one of the shortest players and thus wouldn’t win aerial duels (he leaves those to Jyou), but he’d be even less effective as left or right back, because that’s where you have to be a fast runner. Hear me out: He is the one who reads the game. He is the one who reads the positioning of the other players and makes sure everyone is well-positioned themselves - making him the most effective tactician and offside-trap in the world. He may also be assigned to become defensive midfielder in the process, because he’d be good at distributing balls with Yamato or Mimi - plus, he’s the closest to Miyako in goal, so they’d coordinate perfectly and she can be the one who shouts out his instructions the best. (He’s the perfect middle ground between Per Mertesacker and Philipp Lahm for me, shut up, I know I’m biased.)
Mimi: Defensive right midfielder (attacking orientated). Mimi is a wild card, since I don’t really see her being into football at all, but she’s totally into the team activity and while she is assigned to be a defensive midfielder, making sure her side of the pitch is well defended, once the opposing team pisses her off, she’d go right into attacking mode, I can see her being so good at tackling for some reason. This probably applies more to her 02/Tri selves, but even in 01, she could be pretty fierce and going for what she believes in. She’d also contribute a lot to assisting in goal scoring when she’s pushing forward (especially when she can make Sora shine, so when she spots her being in a good position, I can see her shooting amazing crosses).
Jyou: Right (or left) centre back. Not gonna lie, my first thought was making him team assistant, because he’d also be the perfect candidate for being the team doctor, but then I thought about the aerial aspect again - and about Jyou himself just wants nothing more than to be helpful, protecting those that are dear to him. You wouldn’t believe how many times I have seen tall players taking balls directly to the face and Jyou would be self-sacrificing just like that, especially if it means pulling off Koushirou’s tactics. Plus, when put on the left side, he coordinates super well with the Takaishida brothers, for obvious reasons.
Takeru: Defender, left back. When I think about Takeru, I associate him with basketball first when it comes to sports. But for some reason, I could see him being the fast-paced left back, running up an down the left side of the pitch, coordinating with Iori on the other side, playing well into Koushirou’s offside traps (he’s a troll like that) and taking his defensive/protective role very seriously - especially because Yamato is in his direct vision as well and their passes towards one another are very precise. He’s a pacifist, trying to settle direct duels fair and square and his tackles are clean, but every once in a while, he does get that dirty tackle across that may even earn him a red card...
Hikari: Team assistant. In the end, she was the most suitable choice in my head. Football isn’t for her (and Taichi probably still has his reservations about letting her play anyway), she enjoys being at the sidelines, encouraging and cheering everyone on, talk about match plans and one-to-one talks.
Daisuke: Attacking midfielder, left winger. At first, I was actually thinking about making him a defensive midfielder - not because I wouldn’t see him pulling off an attacking role, since he DOES have that urge to push forward, but maybe he’d actually need that grounding in order not to get too hot-headed (and collect cards in the process). He’s the personification of fair play - and once I thought about him and Ken being wingers together,evening each other out, it all made perfect sense again. Both of them, from a football perspective as well as in their canon presentation, are attacking players - however, even if they’re the main fighters of 02, they don’t have that same exact fire power as their predecessors. They’re both good players - Daisuke is a tad bit more physical and forward-oriented and while he obviously enjoys scoring himself, he’ll always beam with pride once he can set up Taichi (or Ken) for a goal themselves (even if he doesn’t admit that easily, everyone can read the happiness in his face). He may butt heads with Takeru at the left side sometimes, but it’s all in good fun (Koushirou sometimes sighs in frustrations because his left side, while working well together, is very prone to committing fouls at times... Edit: That’s actually where they decide to switch Koushirou and Jyou, because Jyou is better at dealing with the Takaishida brothers + Daisuke, while Koushirou and Ken have more of the tactitican connection together.)
Miyako: Goalkeeper. I didn’t even have to think about this for more than two seconds. She’s the Manuel Neuer of the group, she’d keep her sheet clean and scream at everyone who prevents her from doing so. She’s doing a lot of tactical work with Koushirou at the back and usually, their plans in defending their goal are very effective - he still gets a heart attack sometimes when she pulls off some more dangerous stunts. (Speaking of Manuel Neuer, you simply know that she’d be a “sweeper keeper” just like him, advancing high on the line and if everything fails, she’d even attempt to settle things and score herself. The girls are pretty good at finding each other on the pitch and thus her passes would reach Mimi with regular precision.)
Iori: Defender, right back. This one was difficult as well and I did think about making him team assistant as well, but again, pairing him up/mirroring him with Takeru, while making him support his two senpais on the backline (who’d in return are able to support him as well) simply made too much sense. He’d HAVE to be a defender, there simply wasn’t any other choice and since he’s short and sneaky, opponents wouldn’t even predict his crosses over to Takeru’s side.
Ken: Attacking midfielder, right winger. Mirroring Ken with Daisuke while also making him an attacking midfielder just felt so incredibly right. You may want to copy the majority of what I wrote about Daisuke above - while changing/adding that he’s the more careful of the two, so they complement each other perfectly. He tries to read the situation, calculate their chances and the positioning of the opponent before advancing, able to understand and read game well. His pass and cross precision is beyond belief, when he spots Daisuke - or generally the chance to score - he GOES for it and easily creates space for Sora and Taichi to succeed themselves.
So, what we’d have then is:
Goal: Miyako
Defence: Takeru, Koushirou, Jyou, Iori
Midfield: Yamato, Mimi, Daisuke, Ken
Attack: Taichi, Sora
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“Even beyond the age when girls might be encouraged to play in the city streets, their presence was sanctioned by another activity: the healthful walking between home and school, and the long constitutionals judged critical to a maturing girl’s health. If the lives of Victorian girls were defined by disciplines, one of those disciplines was daily exercise, most commonly long walks, sometimes of several hours’ duration, from one side of town to the other.
Good daughters embraced a walking regimen as religiously as they did a regimen of diary keeping. Like writing, though, walking suggested form rather than content. In their long rambles from one side of town to the other or into the country, or their promenades back and forth along Main Street, girls achieved a level of social freedom which ran against the grain of chaperoned domestic propriety.
Most physicians and advisers agreed about the benefits of walking. Writing in the 1890s, the Ladies’ Home Journal quoted ‘‘a celebrated physician’’ when it endorsed walking as the preferred form of exercise. ‘‘Tennis, he believes, is too violent; cycling renders women awkward in their walk; cricket is also an uneven exercise; at golfing the strokes made are not conducive to the cultivation of physical beauty.... Riding is one-sided, and croquet is not exercise at all. Walking, however, may be fast or slow, according to the desire or health of the individual. Walking is probably the only exercise which calls every part of the body into active and healthy motion.’’
Earlier, a writer for the same magazine instructed American girls how to walk: ‘‘Let the arms swing free; throw the shoulders back, the chest forward and the head high.’’ Another columnist recommended other sports for girls, including tennis, bicycling, rowing, and any men’s sport ‘‘with but one exception, foot-ball.’’ But she fell back on walking as both the simplest and ‘‘perhaps the best,’’ suggesting that girls build up to six miles per day. Walking was an approved form of exercise for a range of Victorians, but it was clearly girls who had both the most time and the most need for its healthful effects. G. Stanley Hall, in his opus Adolescence, suggested the special role which walking filled in the lives of unmarried women, who ‘‘are, and ought to be, great walkers.’’ Walking, Hall implied, might tap energies otherwise likely to go to unhealthy activities, such as ‘‘estheticism’’ or the solitary vice of ‘‘self-abuse.’’
He explained, ‘‘Dr. Taylor thinks . . . that the difference between boys and girls in learning self-abuse on account of the more obvious anatomy of the former is overestimated, and that the latter, more commonly than is thought, not only find their organs and use them improperly, but are more difficult to cure of this vice.’’ A healthy alternative for unmarried women was to spend that excess energy in walking which married women and mothers might spend ‘‘normally in other ways—’’ an allusion both to the demands of raising children and to coitus itself. Walking was exercise, therapy, and ideology all in one. Sarah Browne, a married woman writing at midcentury, explained her walking in language appropriate to her region and class: ‘‘I walk again this forenoon in search of health—my walk is a principle, a religious duty, so the time is not lost.’’
Time spent walking was time invested rather than squandered. Less intense than modern jogging, aerobics, or weight regimens, the walking of nineteenth century girls nonetheless could compete in seriousness; what it lacked in strenuousness was compensated for in its duration, sometimes occupying two or three hours of the day. Margaret Tileston’s sister Mary was afflicted with health problems throughout her adolescence in the 1880s.
Undoubtedly Margaret’s regular walking, on the streets of Salem, Massachusetts, at first in her sister’s company, was in part a response to Mary’s ‘‘search for health.’’ Beginning at the age of thirteen, Margaret worked up to two hours per day as the time she was expected to walk. Even when it was bitterly cold outside, Margaret walked. Even when she had no company, she walked, ‘‘simply for the sake of taking a walk.’’
Some of her walking took place at school recess, but that still left an hour and a half of walking to do either before or after school. When she missed an hour of exercise, she recorded it in her diary. She sometimes walked early in the morning before the sun came up. (One May morning she got up at 4:20 and walked an hour before breakfast.) She often did not return home until after dark, one winter night not making it back until 7:00 p.m.
After one day of walking, during which she had ‘‘thought a good deal,’’ she still found herself short of the required two hours, so she and her sister walked up and down in front of the house before going to bed. Only once did she confess to her diary that walking two hours was ‘‘a tiresome thing to do daily.’’ As befit her self-improving temperament, she instead used this bodily discipline as the occasion for a mental one, explaining that during one long walk she had ‘‘got some more ideas about walking.’’
Seldom do we have witnesses—or walkers—quite as disciplined as Margaret Tileston, but documents of other teenage girls suggest that walking was considered both a preventative and a palliative. When Alice Stone Blackwell’s head ‘‘felt as though I had been hung up by the heels and all the blood had run into it, filling it almost to bursting,’’ her cousin Emma ‘‘prescribed a walk, and we found our way to the chocolate factory.’’ When she took a long circle route home from school—‘‘about 7 miles I should think’’—she relayed her sense of accomplishment: ‘‘Am at present in serene enjoyment of a good conscience and blistered feet.’’
…In addition to being a discipline, however, walking was a necessity for most maturing girls. Going to school in the nineteenth century usually meant walking to school, often in company with friends and classmates. Between discipline and necessity, there were enough agemates walking in the streets that urban girls rarely needed to walk alone.
Indeed, the hours spent walking became opportunities for sociability, for making and broadening acquaintances, for flirtation. The walking that began as a discipline or an expedient eventually turned into an occupation in its own right, which gained its meaning from the opportunities it offered for peer relations beyond adult authority. Walking to school in itself could become a highly choreographed peer ritual.
Jessie Wendover attended public high school in Newark, New Jersey, in the 1880s and 1890s, and in her diary she enumerated her walking companions. When she was fifteen, Wendover often collected friends as she went so that ‘‘we eight went down together.’’ Sometimes, however, they would break into pairs or regroup, as when one friend ‘‘got one of her amusing cranky spells on and tried to make herself believe she was mad at me, and said she would not walk with me.’’ The foursome broke into pairs then, with one pair removing their hats as they puffed up the hill, and the other sitting on the stoop and laughing at them. For Wendover the significance was that ‘‘we four have gay times going to and from school now-a-days.’’
…For the more reserved Margaret Tileston, walking in the Salem streets only gradually expanded her social world and encouraged her to take initiatives within it. After a slow beginning in coeducational Salem High School, Tileston gradually discovered connections to her community. ‘‘I can scarcely take a walk without meeting one of my school-mates or at least some one that I know,’’ she observed in the spring, after beginning classes the previous December. She soon began to walk with some of these schoolmates, noting the next fall, ‘‘I begin to feel better acquainted with the girls in my class.’’
The next winter she noted the company of a boy: ‘‘Dick Manning walked along with me for a part of the way.’’ By the following month, she confessed in the spine of her diary, she felt bold enough to initiate relations: ‘‘I bowed to Master Smith on my way to school.’’ The next week, the group of girls she was walking with actually invited some boys to ‘‘turn round with us, but they could not.’’ The confidence Tileston was gradually accruing allowed her on her own to overtake a boy that month and accompany him to school. Margaret Tileston did not record the ensuing conversation, but she did note some of the subjects she touched on in her long walks with other friends.
On one three-hour walk, she and her companions talked of friends, boys, teachers, and dancing. In different walks that summer of her sixteenth year, Tileston mentioned conversations ‘‘about calling boys by their first names.’’ Margaret Tileston was a purposeful young woman, as her extraordinary diaries make clear. Yet even for Tileston, the meaning of walking gradually incorporated its sociability.
For many girls less focused than she, walking up and down city streets—or ‘‘promenading’’ as detractors would describe it—nearly lost its function as exercise in its fostering of peer intimacies. Ruth Ashmore, the Ladies’ Home Journal columnist championing restrictive morality, cautioned that if there was a possibility that a girl might be joined by boyfriends on a walk, she should be accompanied by a chaperon. (And in any case, a girl of eighteen should not go out without a chaperon.)
This was only one of a long collection of warnings—observed mostly in the breach—offered by advisers anxious about the freedoms of girls in the city. Ruth Ashmore’s advice ran at cross purposes with other, older codes of courtliness which made men responsible for the safe passage of women through city streets. In reflection of this chivalric remnant, it was customary for boys to escort girls during and after evening events, dances, or parties. Often these escorts seem to have been assigned by the hostess. In a later interview, Etta Crawford recalled her life as a girl in frontier Portland, Oregon, in the 1860s and 1870s. Customarily, she would receive written invitations to dancing parties in homes, which specified the name of the escort who would be responsible for getting her to and from the event and for seeing ‘‘that you were properly escorted all evening.’’
She was careful to distinguish this constant attendance from the practice of ‘‘dating’’ popular in the 1930s at the time of her interview: ‘‘We really didn’t have dates. Mother considered we were too young. . . . I don’t approve of this present-day manner of traipsing around half the night. None of the boys that attended me to the dances were on calling acquaintance.’’ This imposed arrangement was reflected in other girls’ accounts of such evenings.
At the age of twelve in Milwaukee in the 1860s, Cassie Upson wore her white dress and pink sash to a ‘‘sociable,’’ returning home at 11:30. She declared that she had enjoyed herself ‘‘only pretty well,’’ perhaps because of her partner: ‘‘I think my escort’s name was Clark. Oh! he was a gawky.’’ When Jessie Wendover attended a boy’s birthday party in 1885 at the age of thirteen, she noted that there were about a dozen ‘‘couples there.’’ She arrived at about 8:00 p.m., she said, and returned home at the extraordinary hour of 3:00 a.m., noting that ‘‘Harry Mccarthy saw me down to supper and home.’’
Wendover led a protected life and was most often accompanied by her parents to and from social affairs and when she went downtown in the evening. It appears, though, that her parents on the Atlantic seaboard shared with Etta Crawford’s on the Pacific Coast a parental protocol which sanctioned the assignment of ‘‘escorts’’ for girls as young as twelve and thirteen.
Whether assigned or not, though, it was incumbent on boys or men not to leave girls unescorted in the evenings—especially as those girls became young ladies. (This chivalric convention put a strain on outnumbered high school boys, who nonetheless remained responsible for their female classmates after evening events.)
While a student at the Harvard Annex, Annie Winsor recorded an embarrassment in the diary written for her parents. She had attended an evening party in Cambridge which her attractive Latin instructor was also attending. She and a fellow female student had agreed to go home together. (She reported that her friend ‘‘trots to and fro from Miss Smith’s at all hours and did not a bit mind going from here alone.’’) The two young women timed their departure carefully: ‘‘We waited till Mr. Preble [their teacher] and two girls had got safely out the door and away, and then started downstairs, and with averted eyes ‘thro’ the entry, opened the front door, and there stood Mr. Preble leisurely fixing his neck handkerchief—evidently waiting for some one.’’
The friends ‘‘felt like two children caught at the jam-pot and no way of escape.’’ The consequences were preordained. Mr. Preble would be obliged to walk everyone home, which was indeed what happened. In a letter to her brother, Ellen Emerson, daughter of Ralph Waldo Emerson, described her discomfort with such genteel expectations when she returned from a party.
Her escort, she explained, was a Mr. Soule, ‘‘who— I can imagine your exultation—made me take his arm. But the experiment confirmed me in my old opinion. It is easier and pleasanter to walk alone and be able to keep one’s dress out of the dust. There!’’ Like other chivalric practices, being escorted was a ritual meant to convey obligation as well as protection. Girls’ presumed need of escorts provided access to welcome and unwelcome suitors alike.
Cassie Upson noted in 1866 that ‘‘that abominable little nip of a Perkins’’ had walked her home from church and had discerned only that ‘‘I wasn’t quite as talkative as usual.’’ A reprinted item from a student newspaper in Kingston, New York, in the 1880s suggested that girls reject the terms, replying, ‘‘‘I would rather be excused,’ when asked by young gentlemen for the privilege of escorting them home from church at night. The practice may be hard on the ‘boys,’ but it is one which every self-respecting girl will adopt and adhere to. For a young lady to be asked on coming out of church, . . . to surrender herself to the society of some young hoodlum who has been waiting outside while she was decorously attending divine worship, is an insult which would justify a kick from father or big brother.’’
Rather than seeking contact in ‘‘this sneaking, unmanly, vagabondish way,’’ an interested suitor should ‘‘call upon her at home, and take pains to ascertain whether his society is agreeable to her parents as well as herself.’’ This item suggested the dilemma embedded in the system of boys escorting girls: sometimes the solution was worse than the problem it was meant to address.
The practice of escorting equally opened possibilities for flirtation, of course. The Milford student newspaper slyly noted that the ‘‘girls of ’88 all believe in ‘protection’—after class parties.’’ Lily Dana noted one such arrangement: ‘‘Of course Brinckerhoff went with Edith Barry and I saw them turning up one of those lonely streets by the Catholic church, in just the opposite direction from her house. Mother says she does not think it was proper.’’
Whether proper or not, it was clear that intimacies contracted within approved contexts of school or church would have ample room to flourish even within genteel practices coming and going in the city streets. The historian Beth Bailey has found radical changes in courting practices in the 1920s resulting from the movement from the maternally supervised ‘‘front porch’’ of home to the ‘‘back seat’’ of male-owned cars.
The fact was, though, that many middle-class girls in the nineteenth century were not at home but at church or at school, and in the evening they were presumed to need male escort well beyond the surveillance of their mothers. During the day, girls had more freedom to walk on their own. These less formal walking arrangements—ostensibly undertaken to run errands, to get to or from school, or for exercise—provided ample opportunity, too, for flirtation.
Alice Blackwell and Lizzie Morrissey, both writing in Boston in the 1870s, though from different class perspectives—found themselves unwitting walking partners in such scenarios. When Alice Blackwell, nearly phobic about encounters with boys, went to meet two schoolmates, the pair was otherwise occupied, talking loudly and waving handkerchiefs to attract the attention of two boys. Alice was so mortified that she hid behind a hedge and finally strode home by herself, ‘‘descended to the cellar, groped my way to the milkroom, and soothed my irritated feelings by drinking an enormous quantity of milk.’’
When Lizzie Morrissey walked to a nearby square to hear a public band concert with two friends, she reported that the walk down was nice, ‘‘but when we got there Ida soon left me for Art Woodride and didn’t come back again; I felt provoked. Then Hattie left me for two fellows, but she came back and introduced them.’’ After this bad experience, Morrissey concluded that she would ‘‘never go to the square again when anything is up with either of them.’’ Part of her subsequent isolation within her house might have been a response to discovering herself abandoned by her best friends in favor of flirtatious promenading.
A more willing participant was Mabel Lancraft, a high school student and spirited daughter of a Fair Haven, Connecticut, oyster grower, whose 1880s diaries cover her fourteenth through seventeenth years. Lancraft spent much of her time in her early teens promenading and flirting outdoors. One summer day of her fourteenth year, for instance, after a trip to the ocean, she and her friends were playing house—‘‘I was the mamma and they were the children’’—when a neighborhood boy came along and suggested they go to the park. ‘‘So we went and we met Mr. Hovey down there though he didn’t approve of us going.’’
The group of friends continued to play, though, picking up others. ‘‘Sadie and I had our arms around each other and Sadie was my beau.’’ The boys accompanied the girls nearly home and exchanged compliments. ‘‘Sadie said I was awfully pretty and if she was a boy she would be in love with me. And he [Ed Dupee] said what pretty eyes that Miss Lancraft has got and he agreed with Sadie.’’
Mabel Lancraft later drew a line through the above, an early—and ineffective—moment of reserve; Lancraft grew more daring as time went on. By the end of the summer, she announced boldly that she and a friend met two boys of their acquaintance ‘‘and we raised and we promenaded up and down with them in front of Mr. H. Olds.’’ At the beginning of the summer, Lancraft simply disregarded the advice of a neighboring adult; by the end of the summer, the opportunity to flout respectable opinion was part of her pleasure.
Mabel Lancraft’s early teenage flirtations were generally confined to friends and schoolmates, whom she met and bowed to in their mutual walks around her Fair Haven neighborhood, to the station, and also sometimes through downtown New Haven. When she was seventeen, though, Mabel Lancraft confessed a modest initiative with a stranger. ‘‘Coming out in the car a young fellow stood up in front of me and I am afraid I flirted a little.’’”
- Jane H. Hunter, “Friendship, Fun, and the City Streets.” in How Young Ladies Became Girls: The Victorian Origins of American Girlhood
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