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fbfh · 1 year

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Francis Wilkerson crushing on (obsessing over) you hcs

wc: 1k

pairing: francis wilkerson x gn!babysitter!reader

warnings: (canon) obsessive behavior from francis but reader is into it (against their better judgement /hj), pinning against wall, begging, francis being pathetic for you /pos, reader is trying to be professional lol

summary: Francis knew his mom hired a new babysitter to look after his brothers, but he didn't expect you to be so... perfect. now he has an impossible to manage crush on you.

song rec: obsessed with you - the orion experience

a/n: oh look another obscure heartthrob there are no fics for!! literally how did we get the scene of hal telling the boys what their relationships will be like and that Francis canonically has that gene and have no one simp loudly for him. yes I know this show went off the air years ago and I don't care. also full disclosure, I haven't watched much malcolm in the middle but I think I have a pretty good grasp on the characters let me know if anyone's ooc lmao

@yesv01

Okay starting off strong

The scene

The Scene?????

Are you fucking kidding me???

So we know he's a bit of a trouble maker

That's putting it lightly

But the fact is Francis is not afraid to get his hands dirty

He is not at all afraid to get fucking messy

And you know having Lois as his mom is more than enough reason for him to be straight up feral

As Hal said, the men in their family have a habit that makes them a little unstable (and very desperate) in relationships

It's giving greek tragedy curse

So if you've ever wanted a hot slightly unhinged obsessive pathetic hot mess boyfriend

Francis is the one for you

Okay maybe boyfriend isn't quite the right word

He’s not “technically” your boyfriend yet

But he’s hellbent on getting there eventually

He just has to warm you up a little first

Prove that he would be such a good boyfriend that you couldn’t say no

He just has to really plead his case, tell you how he feels

He figures if he’s up front and honest, lays his cards on the table

If he tells you he’s fallen for you, all the amazing traits he admires about you and that he thinks you could have some great chemistry

That he’d really love to get to know you better

That he has a good shot at you agreeing to go on a date with him

It’s a solid plan

So he’s not sure how he ends up literally begging you on his knees, arms around your waist and kissing your stomach after getting rejected a dozen times in like two days

He thinks of something smart but every time he opens his mouth something erratic (and probably a red flag) comes out

He didn’t see this coming

No one did except Hal and Lois

Hal should start offering relationship tarot readings because in that minute and a half speech to his kids, he not only predicted Malcolm's first relationship

But Francis's too

He's hooked up before, had flings here and there

But he's never really liked anyone

Until he sees you, the new babysitter Lois hired

You're so sweet

You're responsible, make good grades, and actually have a modicum of common sense

Lois is hoping you're just what her boys need

Francis is often out of the house doing god knows what

One of the reasons Lois hired you to begin with

So it's a little while before Francis actually meets you

But when he does??

Holy hell brace yourself

When Francis sees you it changes his fucking brain chemistry

He grabs his brothers and is like "That's the babysitter???"

"Yeah??"

"So you just forgot to mention how hot they are???"

They did not expect this kind of reaction from him

He pays Dewey five bucks to sneak into your bag and see he can find out what body spray or lip gloss or cologne you use

Dewey somehow manages to get in and out of your bag without you noticing

“What’s it called?” Francis asks, needing to satisfy the burning urge to know what you smell like up close

“Twilight… twilight something.” Dewey says, trying to remember. “I think it was… twilight sedation. Yeah, that’s it.”

Francis looks over at you

“Twilight sedation…” he says dreamily

It’s twilight forest, but who’s counting

Francis needs to be around you as much as possible

Being home more than usual won’t be a problem, he thinks

He’s not responsible enough for Lois to let him watch his brothers unsupervised without utter chaos anyway, so it’s not like you’ll stop coming over

So now when you’re babysitting his brothers

When you’re making mac and cheese or helping them with their homework

He’ll find little moments to steal you away

Every time he fully intends to have a conversation with you

Banter, build a rapport, get to know you better

And every time he ends up shamelessly coming onto you

And usually ends with him pinning you to a wall begging you to let him kiss you

Just once

Please, just once, just one time

And every time you manage to slip away and go back to what you were doing

Helping his brothers with video game levels and homework

And every time, it leaves him wanting you more and more and more

You think he’s just messing with you at first

But you can’t deny the sincerity of his face and voice and body language

He’s burning for you

Aching for you

And it’s a little overwhelming to say the least

Especially with how out of the blue it is

You want to just have a normal conversation but always end up with him much closer to you than you expect

So you panic and slip away

And so begins the enticing game of cat and mouse between you that drives Francis even crazier for you than he thought was possible

Every time he promises himself he’ll play it cool, just be normal around you

And every time he ends up pinning you against the kitchen counter telling you what a good boyfriend he’ll be

Please just let him prove it

The logical part of your brain knows these should probably be red flags

But a smaller part of you wants to see

The logical part of your brain also knows that you absolutely should not date the son of the woman you’re babysitting for

Especially since (aside from Francis) this is the chillest cushiest babysitting job you’ve ever had

Lois was right, you’re exactly what her boys need

And since it’s impossible to get a babysitter, much less keep one, she’s paying you really well for this

So yeah

Dating her son would be a huge conflict of interest

You can’t

You absolutely cannot

But the one thing you failed to take into consideration is that you lowkey have horrible taste in men

So this thing building between you and Francis is really just a matter of time

Then things are really going to get crazy

#francis wilkerson #francis wilkerson x reader #malcolm in the middle #malcolm in the middle x reader

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dulcewrites · 9 months

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The way people talk about that scene in ep 9 really infuriates/honestly confuses me. On one hand, you have the people who make fun of it, even though it’s very clear is an abusive/coersive situation. Alicent looks disgusted and so sad. They use it as amuniation against her. Saying things like ‘Rhaenyra would never’. That’s horrible in of itself to say, but it only gets worse when you remember both Alicent and Rhaenyra have experienced being preyed on by older men. Basically implying ‘brave and strong’ women like Rhaenyra would never be taken advantage of (Mind you the people saying this also ship daemyra so self awareness doesn’t come in droves).

Then you have the people, maybe in an attempt to defend Alicent’s characterization, say that it makes no sense. The thing that always confuses me is the silent undercurrent of if a woman gets a modicum of power, that should make her immune to being abused or being a victim of patriarchy. Which is just not true at all. It’s one thing if you don’t like the decision, that’s your prerogative. But I’ve noticed people in the fandom often slip into boderline rape/assault apologia while explaining why they don’t like certain choices (ironically a thing I see people accuse the the writers/producers of). Matthew Needham, the actor who plays Larys, has literally said himself it’s about Larys having power. “It’s not like everytime there is information, this happens. But I think it’s whenever he feels she’s slightly pulling at the reigns, he feels like he needs to put her back in her box.” He does this in ep 9 because Alicent is trying to gain footing and agency without him, without her father etc.

Also I feel y’all forget that larys does have things to dangle over Alicent to manipulate her with. Are we forgetting Larys insinuating that when push comes to shove, he can say it was Alicent’s idea to kill his brother and dad. Like yeah he becomes the lord of harrenhal, but let’s be real, Alicent had more to gain from larys going rogue. That’s why he did it, then says ‘if the queen wants something done’. Up until that point, we can assume their talks/relationship was mutal, or at least Alicent could convince herself it was. Larys cornered a teen girl (in ep 5) knowing she was alone, with little allies. It was never a true meeting of the minds, so him turning out to be a creep was not surprising imo. Plus in ep 7, Alicent says she will surely need a friend like him, with a frankly fearful look in her eyes bc she knows what he is capable of. Another thing he could hold over her. Not to mention, who knows what they spoke about during their talks.

There is a through line of Alicent trusting people or at the very least thinking she can be on equal footing, just for them to flip it around on her*. That doesn’t make her a hypocrite or ‘weak’. It makes her fallible and human. She’s a bleeding heart, and I could be biased but that’s one of my fav traits she has.

*it has been noticed that Alicent takes her shoes off in ep 6 when they have dinner. It makes me wonder if that is how it all spiraled. It either started as a thing she genuinely did because she was comfortable in her room, and he made it some sick thing (like men do). Or there was a ‘buffer’ Alicent could create but it all desenigrated the moment lyonel and harwin dies. In both scenarios it is Larys, the assualter, who ups the ante to get what he wants.

#I hope this makes sense… it’s just *ahhhhh*#it’s like all feminist theory or common sense goes out the window when people discuss Alicent #imo Alicent being a genuinely remorseful person pushed into situations is far more compelling and tragic #pro alicent hightower #anti larys strong #anti daemyra #for the dig I put in lmao #pro team green

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danglovely · 2 months

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Regrading Taskmaster: S06E06 We met at mealtimes.

*Score changes noted in parenthesis.

Greg defaces Alex's tummy. Moving on.

Prize Task: The Best Thing You've Invented

This is the worst round one we've ever had.

Russell invents "cup cereal" and Alex/Greg both take him down for it already being invented. My problem is more fundamental in that my parents never set an arbitrary time where I had to stop eating cereal, thus requiring me to conceal my cereal-eating.

Asim 3D printed shoes. It looks like soap. I think this might be good, but Greg is so dismissive out of the gate that it never gets a chance. Tim legitimately invented a spade that you can pretend to dig with. It looks effective and I've never heard of such a thing before. Great effort.

Liza's cactus shoes are so confusing that I will absolutely forget them as soon as I stop writing this post. Any modicum of internal logic would elevate them above Russell, but there isn't any.

And heeeey, Alice didn't invent anything. She had an idea . . . but the category was best invention, not best idea. I think everyone else did successfully invent a thing.

Alice: 1 (0) Asim: 4 (+3) Liza: 2 (-1) Russell: 3 (+2) Tim: 5 (0)

VT 01: Make the best snow globe.

Awful Christmas Armageddon.

I'm not all that much of a stickler on what the requirements are for "being a snow globe." That being said, Alice doesn't make a snow globe. The "globe" part is missing. I've noticed more and more that Alice just doesn't do the task a lot in this series and it's not all that surprising that she comes in last. She also orders "face meat" which is how I learned such a thing exists.

Frankly, Liza's is gorgeous. Tim makes something closer to a smoothie than a snow globe. Asim puts two Jon Snows in a balloon?? He also creates a visual that will stick with me forever. It fits the definition of "snow globe" sufficiently.

Russell does get pretty close to the platonic ideal of a snow globe. I have to weigh it against whether I value Asim's creativity more. Liza is easily first and Alice is easily last. Tim getting two makes sense and I think Russell has to edge Asim because Asim largely didn't seem to know what he was going to do next.

Alice: 1 (-2) Asim: 3 (+2) Liza: 5 (+1) Russell: 4 (-1) Tim: 2 (-1)

Team Task: Knock over as many ducks as possible. You must all remain on the red carpet throughout the task.

I also don't remember the way we were positioned.

Alright, hear me out. This can be interpreted as only a part of one's body must remain on the red entirely (not sure why they didn't call it the "red green").

Russell does keep a foot on the red. There is a philosophy in law that it should be interpreted as close to what is colloquially understood to be the law and in this case, everyone in studio seems to think it's fair to DQ Team Funk. That's the feeling I get too and while I think there's an argument for them winning, I am okay with how it shook out.

Team Funk: DQ Asim, Liza, & Tim: 5

VT 03: Make an announcement. Biggest announcement to the most people wins.

But nobody listened.

We're gonna rate "biggest" one through five and "most" one through five and combined score will decide it. Thus, ties are possible. I really hate what Asim does. It had the kernel of a good idea, but it's so clumsy. That said, at least he tried.

Russell doesn't. I would say he makes his announcement to his mom and no one else. It's also the least big announcement, and yes, it is smaller than Alice announcing quattro formaggi pizza having four types of cheese. Her audience is approximately 400.

I love what Tim does. By my rules, he really only makes his announcement to under 50 people, but I'm giving him the title of "biggest" because he made himself a security threat.

Liza is in last, because I have no idea what she did. If I had to guess . . . she didn't do the task and then made up some bullshit about how she did the task.

So, Liza: last. Russell: smallest message and audience. Alice: second smallest message, second largest audience. Asim: second largest message and largest audience. Tim: largest message and third largest audience. So the scores shake out as such:

Alice: 3 (+1) Asim: 5 (0) Liza: DQ (-2) Russell: 2 (+1) Tim: 4 (0)

VT 04: Make the best parachute for this wooden spoon. Slowest and most dramatic fall wins.

At last.

I never really took the "most dramatic" requirement seriously. Some contestants also took the definition of "parachute" liberally. For some reason, Alex never announces the times on this one.

It feels like it should be Liza (5). Alice (4). Tim (3). Asim (2). Russell (1).

And that's just based on vibes.

Greg swaps Asim and Russell with his scores. I'm pretty confident Russell did the worst.

Alice: 4 (0) Asim: 2 (+1) Liza: 5 (0) Russell: 1 (-1) Tim: 3 (0)

Live Task: You will each be given a category. You will each have 10 seconds to say things that fall into that category. First you must each predict how many correct answers you will give. The person who has successfully predicted the highest number wins.

Eggs!

All of these were very easy categories and I bet I would have bet myself somewhere between ten and twenty. The only bad category is continents (because there's only seven). That said, I would have failed at "counties" unless U.S. counties are counted, and why wouldn't they be? It's a show about pedantry.

I am a little disappointed in Liza for not being able to name five continents. There's also a bit of discussion to be had about whether Alice repeated her crustaceans. I don't have strong feelings about it and I've been hard on her in scoring, so let it be.

Alice: 5 (0) Asim: 4 (0) Liza: DQ (-1) Russell: 3 (0) Tim: 3 (0)

F I N A L

Alice: 14 Asim: 23 Liza: 17 Russell: 13 Tim: 22

Here's an announcement: Hand it to Asim Chaudhry.

#taskmaster #tm regrade #alice levine #asim chaudhry #liza tarbuck #russell howard #tim vine #alex horne #greg davies

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lastweeksshirttonight · 1 year

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Guess who's back

Lee is back, tell a friend.

I know I let this project sit fallow for the last few weeks, but I'm gonna kick it back in gear - especially now that we don't have any new LWTs to pick apart every week.

Last Lee Tonight (wherein Lee is still alive, he promises) Season One, Episode Five

(original air date: 6/8/2014) Major topics covered: Net Neutrality, the spelling bee, European elections

"Is there anyone into both anti-Zionist conspiracy theories AND smooth jazz?"

Welcome back from our mini-break! When we last left off, Last Week Tonight was still trying to figure out how, exactly, to structure its show, now that it's determined longer-form dissections of issues can and will work as stand-alone viral bits. This episode is, at least in some respects, where things start gelling into the format we know and love - and gives us our first really big viral bit from the show. I think this, more than the episode on the death penalty, is where LWT really starts to take shape.

Our episode is a rare start where John does not slap his desk a lot, but instead bobs around like a weird bird while everyone claps. It is delightful and important for you to know this, and he should do this more often. (Did you know that one of my main character traits is 'strong opinions about objectively useless shit'? SURPRISE IT IS)

The episode kicks off discussing a surge of far-right victories in European elections. Good to know people were worried about this getting out of hand in 2014. John makes it very clear this is a bad sign - "when Europe goes far right, they go far right through Belgium" is an amazing joke - and showcases multiple far-right Nazi groups that now have seats in their countries' governments. I hate how numb to a lot of this shit I am now because of the US' slow descent into fascism, but this was a startling warning sign at the time.

In contrast, Ukraine elected a chocolate baron as their president, and John takes the opportunity to sing badly and "whimsically". My heart.

Next is an update on Afghanistan, and a new plan for pulling out of the country by the end of 2014. Or the end of 2015. They've been just about to leave Afghanistan for a long time, and John has some further updates on plans going into 2016 and 2017.

These first bits before the "And Now This" feel a lot more like the modern introductory sections of Last Week Tonight. Everything aside from the brief Afghanistan update is centered around one singular theme (European elections), goes on for about 6 minutes (leaving plenty of time for the main topics), and goes into at least slight depth about the news (unlike earlier, extremely brief tossed-off news updates that expected at least a modicum of familiarity with current events). Things are starting to come together everyone!

Our first "And Now This" is about Jay Carney resigning from being White House Press Secretary, which they frame his resignation speech declaring his respect and love for the job with clips of him getting irritated, bemused, and drained by the idiocy of the press pool he dealt with. I honestly completely forgot this guy existed but all the memories of those Obama-era press conferences came back hard to me while watching this clip.

The first main story starts with the Internet, and John going on an extremely long tangent about buying coyote urine before bringing us to the actual topic - Net Neutrality.

This episode had a massive social impact when it aired in 2014. I remember this being such a huge deal, it seemed like every news organization was covering John's show and, through that coverage, informing the public about why net neutrality would be an absolute disaster for the US. Looking at this now, it also was a huge turning point in the marketing of the show - I've mentioned multiple times for previous episodes that the YouTube clips pulled from each episode so far make absolutely no sense, sometimes chopping up bits and not showing full context (like with the GM recalls), sometimes having shorter and longer versions of the same thing (like with the climate debate and the Bill Nye cameo). This episode marks the first time I can share the entirety of the episode's main bit with you as a YouTube video. It is absolutely wild to think that most audience's main way of interacting with this show, through longform YouTube bits, was not a thing at the start.

While the YouTube channel continues to have some smaller fragments of LWT episodes from this point on (usually the smaller intro bits or episode enders divorced from the main topic), and episode 7 inexplicably doesn't have video of its main topic at all (oh boy, that'll make my write up fun), by episode 8, the main subject of every episode has its own longform YouTube clip.

Here's the net neutrality clip for your viewing pleasure:

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John opens the clip noting that discussions of net neutrality are boring as shit, saying he'd rather watch Caillou with his niece than listen to them. That's one of the most casually damning insults I've ever heard, because Caillou is fucking terrible. But net neutrality, I think as we all know now, is extremely important to the function of the internet as we know it.

I said I won't go deeply through each bit on a technical level, and this clip is very technical. It shows really well how LWT, at its best, really breaks down a complex issue and makes it easy to understand - and easy to get incensed about. Helps that cable companies get shit on CONSTANTLY in this one. I am still ready to destroy Spectrum over my early year internet fuckery.

I wish I remembered what I put in that FCC comment website, lol.

The episode shifts to another Other Countries' Presidents of the United States, which focuses on Tony Abbott of Australia, a religiously anti-immigrant shitheel who was an immigrant to Australia himself. It's always projection with these idiots. He's got a cavalcade of bad thoughts and ideas, a lot of which feel like they were pulled directly from a Thick of It episode. "I've given you the response you deserve", Jesus H. Tapdancing Christ.

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He also looks a bit like a Paul Scheer character. I can't unsee it.

The last segment of the episode focuses on the Scripps National Spelling Bee. I made it to the regional tournament for this godawful stress-inducing nightmare in middle school, and I'm pretty sure the only reason I got that far is because my dad promised to buy me the Game Boy Advance game 'Ed Edd n Eddy: Jawbreakers' if I made it to state. I did not make it, and my dad felt so bad about it that he still bought me the game. I loved that game far more than I ever loved the goddamn spelling bee.

As an expert on this subject, "the Hunger Games of the mind" is a super accurate assessment and I related very very hard to the girl who said she was going to get every horror movie ever upon losing. I did much the same, except with Ed Edd n Eddy. (I was fucking obsessed with that show.)

I have to note that John also says "pop that pussy" in this clip. This is of interest to me and my gremlin followers.

Also Jesus Christ, Chris Cuomo, go to a fucking fight club or something to get out that Mortal Kombat-ass rage. My God, you absolute lunatic.

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Random notes:

Lee obviously focuses on important things corner: plum tie, light blue shirt, dark gray jacket, holy shit it is too early for me to be this flustered. A LOOK. 10/10 no notes

Weird items from the Last Week Tonight YouTube page: a video of a singular joke from the Net Neutrality clip. I am not entirely sure what they were going for here - did they think one joke might go more viral than an entire 15 minute clip? Did they make this as a lead-in on a long-lost corporate website? Did they predict TikTok? I have so many questions.

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A couple of years after the Spelling Bee bit, in 2016, John sent his congratulations to Scripps for their 90 year anniversary and some encouragement to participants. This is worth watching because a) all-ages/family-friendly John content is generally adorable and this is no exception, and b) John is smoking hot in it. Not even including the 'imo' there, he just IS. 11/10. 12/10 even. Ranking scale destroyed.

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I would ask you all to guess who my favorite character on Ed Edd n Eddy was, but I am such a stereotype of a human being that if you guessed anyone other than Double D, you don't know me at all. Also this show is still hilarious as an adult, and I maybe got sidetracked watching a bunch of clips of it this morning.

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#john oliver #last week tonight #last week tonight with john oliver #last lee tonight #ed edd n eddy #sorry for that tag people in the eene tag it makes sense in context #Youtube

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orangetintedglasses · 7 months

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( Anyway in honor of the dawn of spooky month approaching, have some info about Vampire!Vash and the rules of how vampires work in my brain. Unrelated to the Astarianon stuff but it's something I've had kicking around in the back of my mind for a while. I'm not claiming any of these as particularly original takes in the slightest, either; this is just how vampires worked in the lore I'm recycling because we worked on it too long to let it go to waste. )

General:

Everyone has a gene that essentially acts as a switch if they're turned into a vampire-- literally all humans have this line of code in the genetics. It's what gives them their powers, and no one really knows what they'll end up with until it happens (unless like, your family has a history with it and obviously has a lot of the same power, you're likely to inherit it)

You have to be dying to be turned. No exceptions.

There are a lot of classifications of vampires, here are the ones I remember off the top of my head-- - Trackers (able to drink from someone and sense them up to a certain distance) - Tanks (beef. stronk. big appetite) - Dawnwalkers (don't burn in sunlight but get little other boons, seen as lesser by other vampires) - 'Red' (a genetic mutation thought to be completely culled due to an insatiable appetite, insane strength and aggressive tendencies. it was not culled.)

Certain lines of genetics were culled because of how dangerous they were-- think things like control over elements and anything that could do serious damage over time. This doesn't mean they're gone, but modern day vampires know better than to speak up if they get an ability like this

'Makers' have an innate control over anyone they sire, obviously. It's a tactic to ensure the newbie vampires don't all just go rabid and kill people to feed their new hunger-- this hasn't stopped makers from abandoning sired, though, so it ain't perfect

All vampires have the ability to glamour their prey. It helps make it hurt less (peaceful) or helps make them malleable (bad). Dawnwalkers are suspectible to another vampire's glamour

There's a council, you have to register new vampires and their powers, etc, I don't wanna go into vampire politics

Modern day has a lot of vampire-friendly spaces. Bars, clubs, a lot of restaurants and other faculties will stay open a lot later to accommodate, there are even specific vampire dentists and doctors that don't see humans at all... people even donate their blood to banks specifically for feeding vampires. Some bars even have feeding zones with willing human participants-- though the rules are strict in these places.

Vash specifically:

Vash, Nai and Tesla specifically are part of a line of progenitor vampires. Their genetic 'switch' can be found in a vast amount of the population thanks to some breeding quirks and passing stuff down

They're also more powerful than any vampire that came after them with some exceptions. They have a modicum of control over all vampires, as well, exerting the same sort of 'maker's command' that a sire has over their sired, though powerful-enough vampires can resist it with some effort

Tesla was staked after about 500 years, living in 'harmony' with the humans for only about 200 before it happened. Vash and Nai went into hiding after. Vash eventually decides to try and live among the humans again

His eyes are a very unnatural bright blue, so he wears special glasses to dull the color (obviously)

Vash's skin has a tan look to it compared to Nai's porcelain skin due to how many times he's been discovered and shoved out into the sunlight to try and burn him alive. Also many scars, because healing factor - proper blood amount to burn through it = improper healing and gnarly-ass scars

Obviously the boy prefers to feed off of animals, if at all. In more modern times, he'll drink from purchased blood bags if he needs to. He hates feeding off of live folks now

I like to think the Dawnwalker genetic trait comes specifically from Vash

#manual's in a totally different language;; ( au headcanon )#creature of the night? horrible and haunting;; // vampire!vash #( WHEW that got long-winded when I realized I kind of needed to explain some shit )#( I'm sure this pings from all sorts of vampire media idk idc )#( this is just what me and narc. ex established and i still like it )#curtains down ✧〗( ooc )

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alleyskywalker · 2 years

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A Bit On Theon’s Personality...

(THEON MONTH | DAY 2: Personality Traits; DAY 5: Strengths)

I think it’s been discussed fairly at length at various points by Theon fans that Theon’s personality can be difficult to parse out, even long before he adds the layer of complexity via dissociation while in Ramsay’s clutches. Where do Theon’s defense mechanisms and trauma responses end and his core personality begin? Which and how many of those coping mechanisms are so hard baked into him that they’re basically his personality now, and to what extent?

For example, I’ve talked before (though I think on discord more so than here), about how Theon’s arrogance and entitlement are really bluster and self-pep talks – overcompensation for his insecurity and an attempt to project a sense of self-worth through that insecurity that he probably means to appear as cockiness at worst, but understandably might read as arrogance from the outside because so much of it is fake. (And the audience that doesn’t bother to read his content carefully falls for this charade as well, at least in Clash, where so much of Theon’s energy is spent on self-pep talks and self-reassurance, because those aren’t things he’s getting from any external source.) And, in fact, when he does get a modicum of emotional support and safety, we see him show actual vulnerability – i.e. see the scene with Dagmer in ACOK Theon III. Yes, he lists his achievements – one of the Blackfish’s handpicked scouts, leading the charge in the Whispering Wood, etc – but they’re genuine achievements he has a right to be proud of and he doesn’t elaborate beyond stating the facts. He leaves himself open by asking if his father knows he’s not a craven and admits to being upset he doesn’t have Asha’s command while also being aware of how petty it sounds. He’s rarely this openly vulnerable in his longing for acceptance, (as opposed to just feeling/thinking it), but is it really a surprise, given that Dagmer is the one person who has offered him actual emotional safety to even the smallest degree?

And as for entitlement. Please. He’s not really any more entitled than any other character in this series in his social position (highborn male, heir to his father’s seat by all legal rights of this country and society – yes, even among the ironborn the son will be seen as more the heir than the daughter, no matter what Asha would like to believe, and there’s a reason she calls herself Balon’s “son” at the kingsmoot, etc). Even the allegation that Theon shouldn’t have pretenses to the lordship of the islands when he spent so many formative years away rings false and hollow. For example, while Daenerys has her antis who will find any fault with her, most people who criticize and critique her more reasonably (not the mention her fans) quite rarely leverage the accusation against her that she should not pursue her claim to the Iron Throne because she grew up entirely on a whole other continent. So why should Theon be blamed for pursuing his rightful claim?

But even beyond that, while Theon has the unsettling and somewhat unpleasant habit – as a trauma response/coping mechanism – of buying wholesale into the power structures and privileges hardbaked into his society, including classism, in a way that’s maybe more showy and offputting than with some other characters of his rank, he’s not actually opposed to meritocracy. If anything, he’s very willing to work for and earn everything from his position as heir to affection from a friend. For example, people laugh at him asking for Casterly Rock as his seat – but remember, he’s asking for this as a castle he intends to take himself.

"I will lead the attack myself, if it please you. As my reward I would ask that you grant me Casterly Rock for my own seat, once we have taken it from the Lannisters."

—ACOIK, Theon I

Is he maybe overestimating his abilities? Sure, perhaps. But that’s not the same as being entitled. When Asha is tasked to with taking Deepwood Motte, it’s implied that this will be her seat, at least for the time that she holds it – “I’ve always wanted a caste,” she tells the gathered family assembly smugly (or “like a cat in cream” as Theon calls it) (ACOK, Theon II). It’s just a normal rule of this society that if you take a caste, you’d become its lord/lady if you wished to stay and hold it (and weren’t kicked out). Theon thinking he can take Casterly Rock may be presumptuous, but asking for it as a reward for taking it isn’t.

Some more: when Asha (in disguise) tells him that the ironborn would not seat a stranger on the Seastone Chair, Theon comforts himself by thinking that he has time to prove himself. Later, he asks Dagmer how he’s supposed to live up to being his father’s heir if he doesn’t have the opportunity to prove himself. Yes, Theon thinks he has the right to Asha’s command and to the title of heir apparent (because by the cultural and legal rules of this society he does) but he’s more than willing to prove himself and considers it rather natural that he should. On a more emotional level, when he thinks of saving Bran from the wildlings, he believes he ought to have “won a smile” from Robb for literally saving his brother. (This last also in the context of Theon thinking about how Dagmer smiled at him – i.e. showed him more approval and affection – than either Balon or Ned…or Robb.) Theon is literally the guy who thinks its normal to win affection from your friends for acts of bravery and service, as opposed to, you know…receiving it freely because friendship. I really don’t see how anyone gets entitlement from any of this (beyond what is culturally normative for someone of his rank and position in this society).

But, agh, ok, I’ve really digressed here, because my intention wasn’t to write about what Theon isn’t but rather that he is. Not everything. Not every personality trail or even close, because otherwise it would probably take me all month (lol, just this took me long enough). But I did want to highlight a few things. Things that I got to thinking about, actually, after someone I was dating at the time asked me why I liked Theon. Not felt sorry for him or was rooting for him, even, but literally, “what about Theon is likeable?” (he asked a little incredulously). I hadn’t really been prepared for that conversation at the time and struggled to put my feelings into words, especially articulate, convincing ones. So later I began to think about this more, trying to effectively articulate and conceptualize as character traits what this quote made me feel (given that it’s the one that I thought of first when trying to answer his question):

He's turned against me too, Theon realized. Of late it seemed to him as if the very stones of Winterfell had turned against him. If I die, I die friendless and abandoned. What choice did that leave him, but to live?

—ACOIK, Theon VI

And I think what it comes down to is this: bravery/courage and strength (of the willpower variety).

And I think I especially would like to highlight these two aspects because Theon is a character that often gets accused by fandom of being the opposite – weak and a coward. Too weak to not break under Ramsay. Too weak and/or not brave enough to stand up to his father/to stay loyal to the Starks. Not strong and brave enough to face ridicule and even willing to commit murder (the farmer’s boys, etc) to avoid it. Someone who needs external encouragement/recognition, which fandom (and society at large) will often classify as weakness. Sometimes, his failures – or perceived failures – are contrasted with him saving Jeyne: finally Theon grows a spine and does something brave, people say. But I have a different perspective on all this.

Of course, saving Jeyne was brave and heroic, etc. It was also one of his most, if not the most, selfless acts. It’s also a brand of bravery and strength that is easily recognized by fandom (and society at large); this sort of grand, action movie bravery. It’s flashy, it’s uncomplicated, it’s very external.

But for one, I don’t think Theon lacked this kind of bravery previously. Robb comments that Theon has “fought bravely for us.” Balon, while finding every fault possible in Theon, will allow him one thing: “at least you are no craven.” His taking of Winterfell was shortsighted but daring and even brave. Here’s another thing:

But the girl was no true Stark, only a steward's whelp. Jeyne, her name is Jeyne. She should not look to me for rescue. Theon Greyjoy might have tried to help her, once. But Theon had been ironborn, and a braver man than Reek.

--ADWD, The Turncloak

Now, Theon’s assessments of himself aren’t always realistic and excellent, but he does have a far more critical view of himself in Dance than in Clash. And that brings me to the second but: bravery was never really Theon’s problem. I wouldn’t even say that any one thing was – every choice he makes, whether obviously or arguably bad, is the outcome of a toxic cocktail of trauma, ambition, a search for acceptance, a stifled/unengaged empathy (in large part due to trauma), etc. But it’s neither cowardice nor weakness as such. (And I’ll say that what probably stands out most as specifically different with Jeyne is the level of selflessness and empathy he exhibits with her, the fact that it’s those priorities that drive his courage in that moment – but that’s a post for another day.)

First, I don’t think I need to spend too much time on Ramsay. I mean, maybe I do, but others have done so much more eloquently before. For my purposes here I’ll say that anyone would have broken under the kind of intense torture Ramsay put Theon through. Either broken or died. Yet, Theon not only survived, but he remained quite lucid and defiant throughout. As one of the most illustrative examples:

The world, Reek told himself, this is what the world smells like. He did not know how long he had been down there in the dungeons, but it had to have been half a year at least. That long, or longer. What if it has been five years, or ten, or twenty? Would I even know? What if I went mad down there, and half my life is gone? But no, that was folly. It could not have been so long. The boys were still boys. If it had been ten years, they would have grown into men. He had to remember that. I must not let him drive me mad. He can take my fingers and my toes, he can put out my eyes and slice my ears off, but he cannot take my wits unless I let him.

—ADWD, Reek I

Playing along to survive or avoid horrific pain and mutilation is not the same as actually losing fortitude, giving up, breaking internally. (Another Theon Month meta goes into this in a little more detail, and as I said, others have discussed this before better than I could.) Just Theon’s Dance arch alone is a testament to his strength and willpower and, yes, to his bravery. But let’s go back to Clash.

His choice to side with his family over the Starks isn’t made out of weakness or fear – it’s just a choice based on priorities (his future, his family, his people vs. …well, Robb, basically). Even the farmer’s boy’s murders, while technically driven by a fear of ridicule, and while awful, are neither about weakness nor a lack of bravery. After all, Theon sees very well when even his own men start to turn against him at Winterfell, because they’d rather die “gloriously” than go through all kinds of tricks and slights of hand with child hostages and such. But Theon presses on with his plans to salvage the merest shadow of a hope for them to get out of there alive, even if it means sacrificing respect, a thing he has fought for so desperately up to this point.

Nor is it, by the way, that Theon is particularly driven by a fear of death more than any person really would be (after, all the human instinct is to survive):

They made a pitifully small assembly; the ironmen were few, the yard large. "The northmen will be on us before nightfall," he told them. "Ser Rodrik Cassel and all the lords who have come to his call. I will not run from them. I took this castle and I mean to hold it, to live or die as Prince of Winterfell. But I will not command any man to die with me. If you leave now, before Ser Rodrik's main force is upon us, there's still a chance you may win free." He unsheathed his longsword and drew a line in the dirt. "Those who would stay and fight, step forward."

--ACOK, Theon VI

Theon will die if he must. He’ll make a last stand. He’ll even do it all alone, abandoned by his men if they wish for safety (and many of them do abandon him). He refuses, in fact, sacrifice his dignity and surrender. It’s just…he’d rather not die if there’s a way to save himself, what’s left of his men and (if the hostage plan were to be successful) Beth and any civilians who might die in as collateral damage in the battle that will ensue as well. (Remember too that he refuses to put everyone to the sword when his men point out that he should, because the Winterfell’s civilian population will turn against them once the battle starts.)

Theon’s priorities and ethics in the middle of this horrific mental breakdown he goes through at Wintefell are all kinds of messed up – which he is aware of and feels intense guilt over almost immediately – but he’s never not brave and it’s never about weakness.

Now, sometimes, the drive to survive is presented as a weakness or a cowardice in itself. A sort of, “look at all of these terrible things this person will do just to live! They don’t have the courage to face death!” But per above, Theon doesn’t have an overwhelming fear of death. He’s brave in battle, he’s willing to make a last stand bravely if necessary.

To come back to that line again: What choice did that leave him, but to live?

Theon’s whole story is not just about survival. It’s about the courage and strength it takes to survive and to live. Theon surviving, living, not to mention finding any joy in that life, is a huge giant fuck you to a world that has knocked him down again and again, threatened his life literally, and threatened his ability to actually enjoy that life. A world that’s this close to winning long before Ramsay:

Outside the rain was falling harder than ever. The rope bridge twisted and writhed under his feet. Theon Greyjoy stopped in the center of the span and contemplated the rocks below. The sound of the waves was a crashing roar, and he could taste the salt spray on his lips. A sudden gust of wind made him lose his footing, and he stumbled to his knees.

--ACOK, Theon II

This is after that awful dinner at Pyke and the council where Balon lays out his war plans. It’s so subtle that I missed it on the first read and I think on the first re-read too. But stop to picture this scene in your head for one second. He’s lowkey suicidal before he’s even left Pyke.

Living for Theon is not the easy way out. It hasn’t been since he was 10. First a hostage, constantly living under the threat of death, culturally alienated, socially isolated, lacking in affection (the only person he seems to be even possibly emotionally close to is Robb, and even that relationship isn’t without its toxic power dynamics), traumatized by all of this. Then coming home and finding that it wasn’t only his childhood that has been stolen from him, but possibly his future too – he’s once again alienated from his people and his family, he can no longer connect with his childhood friends. He starts to slowly lose that sense of identity and self long before Ramsay’s twisted Reek games. But he just…refuses to give up.

In ever situation. At Winterfell, he tries to be social, riding and joking with members of Winterfell’s guards in AGOT when they ride out to the execution, showing that he had something of a social life probably, and casual friends, if not very close and intimate ones. He tries to be close to Robb. His chief and most visible defense mechanism is to smile, to pretend everything is fine. On Pyke, he’s determined to prove himself to his father, to the other ironborn, to show that he is a worthy son, a worthy Prince. At Winterfell, in Clash, he fights to maintain his achievements, his standing, his dignity, and yes, his life.

What choice did that leave him, but to live?

At this point, Theon just living is a contradiction. It’s inconvenient for pretty much everyone. He’s broken with the North, Asha feels threatened by him (though I don’t think she actively wants his death, he’s likely under the impression she does), his father has abandoned him, and as we find out later from Aeron’s POV would be happy enough to see him dead so he doesn’t “stand in Asha’s way.” And in the face of all of that to turn around and say, effectively, of all things, I don’t even know if I want to live anymore, but it’s the only thing to do. You would all rather I be dead, but fuck you. ???

So, I guess the answer to that question that prompted all of these thoughts is fundamentally this (at least in part): I wish I could be that strong and that brave.

#theonmonth2022 #theon greyjoy #asoiaf #meta #op

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docockbrainrot · 3 years

Text

i think i want you (to leave)

Summary: We’re all running from something. Sometimes, metaphorically. Sometimes, literally. Literally running, from the very strangely hypnotizing supervillain that seems hellbent on ruining every bit of your life he can get all eight of his limbs on.

Pairing: Doc Ock X Reader/ Otto Octavius X Reader

Content: Slow Burn, NSFW eventually, 18+

AO3 link here.

Previous Chapter

Chapter 5

anathema// former vandal

The next several days are an uneventful blur. You barely leave your apartment, except for brief dog walks and grabbing food from the bodega across the street.

It’s 9 pm on Saturday and you’re fresh out of the shower, tucked away in a very fuzzy robe, lounging on the couch and watching YouTube on your television. You almost miss the subtle taptaptaptap sound coming from your window, you're so engrossed in the cooking show you’ve been binging. Gotta fill the void somehow, right?

You can’t see anything outside from where you’re sitting. The lights are on and make it impossible to peer through the reflections on the glass. Maybe it’s a bird. Or a branch is caught on the fire escape. Either way, you certainly can’t be assed to check it out and you take another sip of your chamomile tea- you’ve been trying everything under the sun, just about short of literally snorting lines of melatonin, to try to sleep better at night. Nothing’s been working. But you have been making a very valiant effort.

A few moments go by and you forget all about the window disturbance until,

TAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAP.

It’s jarring. It’s loud. Above all else, it’s annoying. Chekov spares you a look, like you’re the one making a racket. Effectively exasperated, you make an effort to set, not slam, down your mug, feeling decidedly not Calm and Relaxed as the tea promised. Suppose it’s not miracle shit though, is it? You would not be a good candidate for a horror movie because you fearlessly storm over to the window and throw it open (it wasn’t locked in the first place; you’re quite terrible at remembering to). You stick your head out and glower at whatever irritating mischief is happening out here, ready to rip the fire escape off the side of the brick building.

You’re greeted by something cold and hard (and indubiously metal, judging by how it felt against your sternum) shoving you back into your apartment, sending you sprawling unceremoniously to the hardwood floor. A string of profanities ready to leave your tongue, you sit up and adjust your robe in an attempt to preserve a modicum of your modesty. The rant dies in your throat as red eyed claws grip the threshold of your pre-war window and it’s almost comical the way He maneuvers himself in, far too large to be making these sorts of entrances. Standing up to his full height before you while you’re still sitting dumbfounded on the floor reminds you of just how impressively built he is. You manage to pick your jaw up, but your ass remains firmly planted on the wood.

“Uh… you could have just used the buzzer, dude. I have a front door, you know,” you sputter out, brain blitzing in pretty much every way possible. Your thoughts are racing and eventually they settle on the most important thing you can think to ask in that moment: “... Why aren’t you wearing a shirt.” You can't help the way your eyes are drawn to his broad chest, gaze lingering on the vast scarring that spills out from the metal contraption clamped around his midsection.

Otto very graciously closes the window behind himself. Or at least his little robot accomplices do it for him. You still aren’t sure what’s going on with that- the whole AI thing. Not even a blip on your radar of concerns at this point. “Didn’t want anyone to see me come in. Your building has a camera on the front, facing the street.”

“That’s why you’re shirtless?” You ask dumbly. Interesting method of camouflage. “What? No- what? It doesn’t matter- listen to me. I need you to do something for me. A small favor.”

He doesn’t seem to notice the compromised position he put you in. Typical. Gathering up your broken pride, you get up and tighten the tie of your robe a bit. It isn’t until then that he has the decency to look a smidge embarrassed and you hope you didn't just give him a free show on your way to getting to your feet. “You literally just broke into my apartment and now you’re asking for a favor? We barely know each other!”

“Less complicated when there's nothing personal involved yet, plus- you let me in,” he corrects you. You wish he would stop doing that. You wish he would stop meeting with you like this, under weird and mysterious circumstances. Even though it's only been like twice. You're already over it.

“You threw me across the room!”

“Touche.”

Otto does not apologize and you did not sincerely expect him to. The look on his face reads more like the cat that got the canary than regretful. You feel as though you’ve come to recognize that expression on his face and you also feel as though you don’t much like the fact that you’ve enough encounters with this man that you can recognize a damn thing about him. “What… could you possibly need me to do for you? I am not robbing a bank.” You just want to get that out into the open as soon as possible.

“I don’t need your help robbing a bank,” he snorts as if the idea is preposterous and you take a moment to feel insulted. Wow. Okay. You could totally rob a bank if you wanted to. Deciding to not comment on your wounded ego, you let him get to the point. Otto pulls something out of his inner coat pocket. It's some kind of rolled up paper and you think at first maybe it's a newspaper or magazine. He unfurls it onto the coffee table and holds it open with two metal claws on either side so it doesn't ravel itself back up.

You realize it's a blueprint. "This is… Oscorp," you point out stupidly, brow furrowing in confusion. There's levels to what's happening here. Layers upon layers, melding together with rot and decay and you can all but smell it. But there's something missing, something that would tie all of the wackjob shit that's been happening to you and around you together. It feels like when you have a very particular thought and then walking into another room makes it dissolve from your head. You're trying to grasp for it, to fit the puzzle pieces together, but it's just out of reach.

"Yes. It is. I have a small task I need you to do," Otto starts off, metal phalanges pushing his glasses up onto the top of his head as he looks over at you. For the first time, you can see his eyes in the light. The warm amber feels like a mockery- you have seen his cruelty in action.

"Where did you get this?"

"Does it matter?" Of course he'd say that.

Your fingertips brush against the metaphorical wayward chain link. It's right there. You just have to grab it and pull it back to you, like the anchor of a ship before it can set sail.

He's talking. You aren't listening. He's tracing a finger over the schematics. You don't see it. Realization washes over you in a heart-dropping tsunami. The voicemail you got from Oscorp plays like a broken record in your mind. 'Hello, Y/N. We're calling in regards to your employment status here at Oscorp. Unfortunately, due to a breach of security, we are having to make staffing cuts and are going to have to let you go. We appreciate your time and effort and wish you the best of luck in your next endeavor.' It didn't make sense at the time. A lot of things didn't. You replay the scene of poor David, desperately pleading for his life at the hands of the man hunched over here, just in your living room. You mentally re-run it over and over like bad 80s sitcoms on late night television.

"Lab Coat Guy…"

You don't realize you whispered it out loud until Otto goes silent.

"What?"

You slowly look at him and take a single step backwards, shaking your head. The company embroidered on David's lab coat hadn't been clear to you in the moment- but it's crystal in hindsight. Oscorp. "You got me fired." Your tone is flat, until anger flashes through you, like a streak of lightning through a dark, moonless sky, illuminating all of things that didn’t make sense before.

"It doesn't matter. What I need you to do-" He's so nonchalant, so blasé that it only stokes the embers of frustration until there's a roaring blaze burning beneath your skin. It's all about him, what he needs, what he wants. He has the nerve, the audacity, to keep traipsing into your life, kicking you while you're down and then ask for favors? You want to say all of that to him but unfortunately for you, you're an angry crier. Your outburst of bravery at him the last time you saw each other had surprised even you- but now there's so much more emotion roiling around inside you.

"No. No, no. Fuck you. You got me fired! I can't- I can't not have a job, I have to pay rent! You could get me arrested for just talking to you!" Oscorp had you canned to tie up any potential loose ends before anymore Davids could slip through the cracks. You think about how scared the poor dude must have been, threatened into stealing blueprints from the biggest corporation in the city, for one of the most infamous criminals. You don't know how they found out you were even remotely involved and you don't want to know.

Tears are streaming down your cheeks and once the floodgates have opened you're very familiar with how long it's going to take to close them again. After all you've been bottling this up since you found out, too disappointed to even tell any of your friends or family.

Otto appears taken aback, to say the least. He even looks like he's at a loss for words; that's a first. You know he could kill you where you stand in the blink of an eye, but in that moment you don’t even care. You’ve been trying so hard for so long to get on your feet, to do things for yourself and get away from the past. You moved across the country, you left everything behind, you got a damn dog. It seems like every time you manage to take a step forward in life, you’re knocked flat on your ass, apparently literally sometimes. It isn’t fair. Things don’t come easily to you, you’ve always had to work for them. You aren’t wealthy, you aren’t a supergenius, you’re just… you. The job at Oscorp was good money and you really felt like you were getting your shit together for a while.

“They’re not who you think they are,” he says finally, so calmly, with such carefulness about his words, that you sniffle pathetically and look up at him. He doesn’t look nearly as pleased with himself as you thought he might. And here you’ve been, under the impression that he gets off on hurting people. “Oscorp. I’m not… I’m not just doing this for me. You have to understand that.”

The schematics are furled up and tucked away. You make the mistake of meeting his eyes. Maybe it’s just the tears that blur your vision, but you swear you see a softness there before they’re hidden away again by his glasses.

He lingers at the window.

“I hope you’ll reconsider.” And then he was making his exit, even taking care to gently close the window on the way out. But he raps on the glass with his knuckles from where he stands on the fire escape and you know the look of confusion on your tear-streaked face speaks for itself. Otto points to the latches on the window. ‘Lock it.’ He mouths before he’s gone, presumably to wreak havoc and harass other unsuspecting young women that don’t want anything to do with him.

You thought everything had come together- but the more sense you make of it, the less you seem sure of the bigger picture. You aren't even sure exactly what he wanted you to do.

You’re left with an endless bounty of questions, and not enough answers to satisfy any of them.

#otto octavius x reader #doc ock x reader #fanfiction #otto octavius #doc ock

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palmett-hoes · 3 years

Note

I like your meta and I got to thinking about all the stuff in these books that requires the suspension of disbelief to roll with and tbh the biggest thing Nora ever asked us to overlook is Riko's entire schtick. Tell me who in real life looks at a short, West Virginia college freshman, even the ones who are good athletes, and says 'oh yeah they are definitely the authority on who should be thought of as the best players in the league, the tattoos are normal, he's normal' Like !??? Hello???

yea i personally have a lot of questions about the moriyamas as they’re presented to us in canon. i think they’re a very confusing detail, and also a not-exceptionally well-considered one on account of the unfortunate racial implications

personal take: the moriyamas should have been russian bratva instead of japanese yakuza. it would change absolutely nothing about the story, but would fix a dozen small details that i’ve been leaping through flaming hoops to justify watsonianly in how i flesh out the extended universe

nora is VERY much a character writer, not a world-builder. her characters are SO nuanced and life-like, but her world-building often feels random, disjointed, and unaddressed

that being said though, i don’t think riko’s schtick is really one of these details

calling riko just a “short, West Virginia college freshman” is very uncharitable to exactly what he is. riko is a celebrity, the ward of a celebrity, and he’s been in the media eye since he was born. it would be accurate to compare him (and kevin) to people like blue ivy carter and north west kardashian, children of a-list, instantly-recognizable celebrities who got added to their guardians’ brand as children. blue ivy is nine-years-old and has already won a grammy

(i don’t want to imply that either the knowles-carter or the kardashian-west family, or any other celebrity i might mention here are abusive like the moriyama family. while there are plenty of concerns about the psychology of child stars, i’m not talking about their personal lives or the way these children are being raised, because that’s none of my business. i’m talking about them from the perspective of their media visibility and the legitimacy that gives them with the public)

journalists LOVE celebrity kids. every argument and wardrobe choice is headline news in a-list houses, and why some celebrities (like famously michael jackson) have to go to such extreme measures to give their kids even a modicum of privacy, because they're hounded by reporters and photographers every time they step outside.

tetsuji, however, took much more of the joe jackson approach and turned his nephew and ward into a public brand and set them loose on the media circuit as soon as he was able

you have to think about exy as a global movement, one with two distinct figureheads at the helm. it came out of nowhere and completely reshaped the world of sports in an extremely short amount of time. think of kayleigh and tetsuji as being like mark zuckerberg or steve jobs: innovators and figureheads

and even if they’re “just” sports celebrities, they’re sports celebrities on a tier with people like babe ruth, michael phelps, tom brady, serena williams, usain bolt, lance armstrong, the rock, muhammed ali, john cena. people whose sports celebrity is SO great their names enter the mainsteam. that’s the MINIMUM level of fame and influence they have

it's no stretch of the imagination for me to think that the Princes of Exy brand was inextricable with the rapid growth and popularity of the sport. kevin and riko were mascots, ambassadors, and symbols, not just for the ravens but for exy itself. the sport viewed as coming of age alongside them

even if it seems ridiculous to us from outside their universe, inside it people have been hearing about the Perfect Court for over ten years. it’s something their sportscasters and news anchors talk about. you’ve heard it on every early-morning and late-night talk show. it’s a tagline on the covers of magazines and up on billboards. every little league kid who picks up an exy racket dreams that they’ll be the next pick and wear that three or four on their jersey

riko and kevin may have been two of the most famous children in the world

and with celebrity comes extensive forgiveness of... “eccentricity.” remember when jared leto started a cult and everyone just,,, let that happen? gwyneth paltrow’s new age wellness pseudoscience brand? tom cruise is literally a scientologist? even if it’s absolutely ridiculous, it’s okay if a celebrity does it

in-universe, riko isn’t just a “good athlete,” he’s a house-hold name with a consistent vision, every tool at his disposal to get it done, a massive platform of people listening to his every word, and the mainstream media spreading it for free

some tattoos at 16? that’s nothing. ESPECIALLY if they’d been drawing them on for years before

once you think about these things in the context of things that are familiar to us, rather than strange and random and contextless the way they (admittedly) come across in canon, riko starts to make a little more sense

also, while i think it could have been pushed more, i think that nora actually did a pretty decent job of conveying this idea of Celebrity as a theme in the books. there are a lot of very consistent references to kevin and riko’s fame and influence. however, because of how much of an unreliable narrator with such a narrow scope of interest neil is, it’s a detail that can slide past you especially if you haven’t read the books in a while and you mostly engage in the fandom. fandoms tend to be character driven, not theme driven, so a lot of the recurring themes and imagery of a work tend to get lost over time

however i try to keep in touch with the canon. the last time i fully read the books was less than a year ago (and i’ve been in the fandom for like,, 5 years?) and i fact check it often for posts, meta, and fic beta-ing. at some point i’d really like to do a series of scene breakdowns and literary analysis of the lesser-acknowledged themes bc ideas like Celebrities In The Public vs Private are interestingly approached and i think we’re missing out a bit by only talking about them from a character-first perspective

i think one thing i would LOVE about getting some kind of visual-media adaptation of aftg (animated series or visual novel preferred) would be all the passive worldbuilding we could get that neil declines to describe to us. things like billboards and magazine covers and t-shirts and commercials for exy and the Princes of Exy in particular. i really think it would push so much more dimension and context into the story for us to really SEE these things

#aftg #tfc #kevin day #riko moriyama #kayleigh day #tetsuji moriyama #meta #my posts #my meta #im talkin #long form post #ask

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buniyaad · 3 years

Text

On Yamihime & the Politics of Toxic Loyalty

I think about Yami’s history and his struggles, and wonder just how deeply Julius’ arrival affected his psyche. Here’s a man who collects squad members like they’re Pokemon, and has no problem giving them a home and a military title because, quite frankly, that’s what Julius did for him, and because Julius gave him a reason to live, then maybe the people Yami collects will also find their will to live.

Except Julius didn’t pick him off the street because he felt bad for him; he took him in because he had magic power, and magic/mana is what makes the man in Clover Kingdom.

It’s not to say Yami doesn’t know he’s a cog in the greater Clover military machine; I’m sure he does! I just think it’s important to note that even though Yami is aware he was brought in to be a tool, he has no problem making others tools as well, because his perception of loyalty and service is inherently warped. For Yami, it’s OK to give your life for someone, no matter what kind of person they are, if you owe your loyalty to that person. It’s also probably why Yami, despite being so perceptive and intelligent, has never questioned Julius’ authority, even though the kingdom is a shitshow from the capital all the way to the boonies.

Asta is critical to Yami’s narrative because Asta, despite being a magicless manlet, is also the only person in the Black Bulls who doesn’t come into the squad looking for comfort, family, and a place to belong. Asta already has all of that. He has comfort in the fact that he’s an ambitious little fuck, he has a family he’ll literally die for, and his home is Hage. The Magic Knights are a path to his goals, not the goal itself. This is a clear opposite of the Black Bulls at large, who are mostly depressed, prone to loitering, and have no motivation to heal and improve their magical abilities because they’re all suffering from depression, anxiety, etc., and the Black Bulls and Yami are really all they have, because they have nothing and no one else.

Prior to Asta’s arrival, the Black Bulls were largely fractured, and barely functioned as individuals, much less a team. Yami did nothing to foster camaraderie. He didn’t have to! They didn’t have to be loyal to each other, only Yami, because it wasn’t a brigade, it was a halfway house, and he was house master. Again, it’s not to say Yami willingly fostered toxicity in his ranks, but he definitely let it fester for so long that it took a whole arc for them to come together as a cohesive unit. And why? Because Asta was the only one well-adjusted enough to recognize his squad’s potential as a whole, versus Yami who wanted them to surpass their limits individually.

But through Asta, I truly believe Yami learned the meaning of family and individual agency in ways Julius could never teach him. I don’t see Yami as a father figure for the Black Bulls at all. In fact, if there’s anyone I think Yami resembles the most, it’s Rukia from Bleach, and that’s as a mentor, a friend, and an ideal to be achieved. Yami is someone who, despite fundamentally being a good person, is bound by his toxic loyalty to his king, wrapped in politics beyond his comprehension, and ultimately a tool who’s been sacrificed time and time again to keep up appearances. The Black Bulls are some of the strongest people in the realm, and led by the King’s ward himself, and yet no one respects the Black Bulls, and no one looks to or respects Yami as ward of the King. He’s treated like garbage despite the military clout. He’s a monster to be feared, when he could have been a beacon of hope for other immigrants, but in the greater narrative of Clover’s military, that just wasn’t possible, and so Yami’s dignity had to be sacrificed in order for him to coexist with the natives.

And now that he’s literally about to be sacrificed, I think it’s poignant that Yami smiled one last before his transformation into Yamihime. It’s his way of apologizing for his shortcomings as squad leader because, in a way, he knows it’s his fault Vanessa, Finral, Grey, Gauche, and Henry still aren’t emotionally well enough to duke it out in tough spots, and Asta can’t save them at the end of the day because Asta is but one human. Yami knows he fucked up, and that he should have tried harder, but he didn’t. Of course we know that it’s not Yami’s fault he got snatched up, but for Yami, it’s a culmination of all of his shortcomings, so he has to smile at the end, because he needs the Black Bulls to understand that it aint their fault. AKA, if we follow through with the Bleach parallel, then the Black Bulls are mini-Ichigos, with Asta being Alpha Ichigo.

The power structure that birthed the Black Bulls can’t be allowed to continue, because how many others like Yami are serving the Crown while willfully ignoring the injustices happening to the civilians? How about the crimes against military personnel? How many more Zara Ideale’s are there? How many more Vanessa’s, and Finral’s, and Henry’s? More than enough, probably, but they’re stuck in this hateful cycle because they have a central figurehead willing to sacrifice them to keep the institution running. That’s why Julius has to die, not because Julius is inherently evil (he’s not), but the institution he serves, upholds, and strengthens is corrupt and fundamentally evil. It’s the same institution that carried out a genocide, and created the tragedy of Yamihime and those like him, those who were sacrificed one way or another to keep the Crown looking pretty.

So why the wall of text? Simple. I feel like Yami’s one of those characters whose physical appearance is a reflection of his deepest insecurities. Here’s a guy who’s three hundred pounds of pure muscle and bulging neck veins, but not only is he objectively ugly, he also has the social skills of a wet leaf. He doesn’t know how to navigate socially, can’t read the room, is crazy intelligent and observant, but too damn stupid to catch a cue. And it’s not his fault! He’s dumb! Lonely! He wants friends, but he’s bad at it! So what does he do? Overcompensate with his muscles and emotionally detach himself enough that his squad members can’t get too close to him, so then he becomes more of an ideal than a person.

With his transformation into Yamihime, I think Yami is finally in a place where he’s finally humanized, not only to the Black Bulls, but to the audience as well. Now we know that despite three hundred pounds of muscles, anyone can be a victim. Despite being a physical representation of oozing masculinity, anyone can be harassed, hurt, and victimized by violent predators like Dante and Zenon. The transformation into Yamihime thus serves as the critical juncture where Yami is now a person rather than just Julius’ tool, the Black Bulls’ idealized leader, and Charlotte’s love interest. Yami is now a deeply flawed human being who has his own shortcomings and insecurities, recognizes these issues, and who has accepted his failure in order to emotionally relieve his squad of having to feel the guilt of losing him. I know I joke about the Yamihime a lot, but it really is a powerful tool when used properly, because Tabata didn’t fridge Yami, he made Yami the very human being Clover refused to believe he was.

And his rescue now is staked on his humanity, because Yami is a friend and a potential lover, and not just a monster, or a captain, or the dude who’s made of three hundred pounds of pure muscle. And with Yami’s transformation into Yamihime, it comes time for Julius to be removed from the narrative as a proponent of the old Yami and all that he stood for, because Yamihime can’t be the tool of the state after this. Yami can’t uphold the dirty institution after this because the institution has spent this whole time stripping away Yami’s humanity, so for Yami to return to Clover as Julius’ soldier does nothing to reflect the change that’s necessary for the story to further develop as a whole.

See with Yami’s humanization came Julius’ breakdown as a figurehead. I now understand why Tabata had to deage him. If he’d killed him off during the elven invasion, then he would have died a martyr and thrown the country into a civil war with a Spade invasion on its heels. No - Julius needed to be deaged so that it would be much easier for both the audience and characters to consume his true death because it’s easier to woobify a thirteen year old babie than a forty year old man. Because despite how kind Julius is to Yami, he’s still a propagator of violence and a leading figure of a corrupt institution. For Yami’s sacrifice to even make a modicum of narrative sense, Julius must die. The civil war, which has been brewing since the first chapter, is practically imminent.

tl;dr: Yamihime is an excellent developmental point for Yami, Julius needs to die in order to start the Clover civil war, Jack the Ripper is Renji Abarai and will rescue and eventually go onto marry the Yamihime, and Henry’s bussy pops SEVERELY. No, I will not be taking questions.

#yami sukehiro #julius novachrono #black clover #asta #jack the ripper #jack x yami #real talk

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bumbleberrysky · 4 years

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alexa, play candyshop (bass boosted) | 02

pairing: gabriel x reader genre: soulmate au, canon divergent around s13, hurt/comfort, humour, future smut (probs) wc: 3.7k rating: sfw warnings: same as before, wounded gabriel & removal of those stitches notes: the fire under my ass burns as strong as ever, hallelujah

You knew there was a reason some divine power brought you to the Winchesters all those years ago, but to this day you still have no idea what that reason is. It’s something you’re destined to find out soon though, especially when you return to the bunker after months away and find not only a new face, but one that belongs to someone who up until that point you’d thought was dead. What does his return have to do with the changes you’re suddenly experiencing in yourself? Will you finally find out the reason you’d been brought here in the first place? Maybe…

Chuck works in mysterious ways after all.

prev. || next

Much to your regret, your plans the next morning to continue being a nuisance to Dean are thrown in the bin at his decision to leave early and meet Castiel somewhere a state over for a case that the angel had found. Something about vamps in a mine or something, you’re a bit hazy on the details. You’d only half-listened when Sam filled you in upon your arrival in the kitchen, a good hour after Dean had already departed the bunker.

While you would like to say Dean is completely to blame, the truth is that once you passed out last night you slept like a log and didn’t wake up until mid-morning today, which classifies as a sleep-in of sorts for you. You love sleep, but your body is wired to wake up not long after sunrise, unfortunately. It’s that hunter lifestyle you love to hate.

Sam had huffed a laugh at your face when you found out you’d missed Dean, but otherwise had kept to himself with his healthy breakfast as you went about making yourself a coffee. You tend to be a bit nauseous in the mornings, so a coffee will be enough for you for a few hours. It’s likely your stomach won’t roar in hunger until a bit after midday, as it is wont to do.

“How is your arm?”

Sam’s question breaks you out of the dissociative state you’d slipped into as you sip your coffee, grip on the mug tightening in reflex. It takes a few blinks before your eyes focus back on him, a small smile on your lips.

“Much better, thank you doctor,” you answer, before mumbling into your coffee as you take another sip. “Despite apparent attempts at making it otherwise…”

Sam snorts, not even bothering to comment on that. “I’m glad. Did you have anything planned for the day?”

A contemplative hum escapes you, your gaze wandering to the ceiling. “No, not really. I kind of went hard for a while there, one case after the other, so I’m due for a break. Not much of a fan of burnout.”

Your eyes move back down, meeting his own. “I’m probably going to just hang back, for a bit. Recuperate. I mean, I didn’t get any injury besides my arm, but I’m just… tired, I suppose. Didn’t get much sleep the past few weeks.”

“Of course you didn’t hurt anything but your arm,” Sam rolls his eyes, taking a sip of his smoothie—you’re not a fan of the green tinge it has, but if he likes it then you suppose it must be alright, at least. “You and your stupid good luck. Dean is still mad about last time, you know. When he got splattered in monster guts that just missed you by a centimetre.”

The memory yanks a giggle out of you before you can stop it, almost spilling your coffee as a result of the abrupt movement. “Oh, that was good. I wish I had a picture so I could scrapbook it.”

Sam laughs around a mouthful of food, swallowing it down before he continues. “Dean would kill you.”

“I know, but it would be worth it.” You place your cup down, deciding it a better course of action than continuing to hold it and risking spillage. “Also, I know you think my luck is really good all the time, but it’s kind of just good occasionally. All other times, it sucks.”

“It kicks in when you hunt, though, so I suppose that’s all that matters,” Sam muses, flicking through an article on his phone somewhat distractedly. He hums to himself before turning the screen off and angling his body to you properly, meeting your questioning gaze.

“I’m… I’m gonna need your help,” he says, appearing somewhat sheepish. “With Gabriel.”

You try not to let your sharp intake of breath show, but from the look that flickers through Sam’s eyes you figure he catches it anyway. Your teeth worry your bottom lip for a moment before you can muster a proper response. “Alright. What are you thinking of doing?”

Sam adjusts once more, pushing his plate away, cutlery stacked on top; it’s only now that you realise he’s finished the meal and the only thing left to consume is his smoothie.

“Well, I’m not… entirely sure yet.”

You huff a laugh, attempting to regain a sense of normalcy. It isn’t that you’d forgotten about the battered archangel hiding in a room a few doors down from yours, but it’s moreso that you’d made it a point not to think about it so early in the morning, lest your mood be ruined for the entire day. Thinking of Gabriel… it kind of hurt. You’re not sure you’re ready to sit down and analyse exactly why you’re having such visceral reactions yet.

“I don’t think we can really plan much, here,” he says, features softening with empathy. It reminds you that when it comes to Hell and being tortured, the youngest Winchester isn’t as unfamiliar as you might hope. A pang of something hits against the confines of your chest at his tone and the passing look in his eyes; as always, there’s the useless feeling, the wish you could take away all the bad memories and experiences and make it all better. You know you can’t, nothing can, but you hate seeing your friends in any modicum of pain.

You suppose that includes Gabriel, if the sensations whirling within you at the thought of him are anything to go by.

“We’ll just have to take it as it comes,” you say, taking your mug into your hold and downing the rest of the drink in one go. “Alright! I’m gonna shower and then… I guess we go see him.”

x x

Unlike the Gabriel you were once so familiar with, this Gabriel is decidedly not fond of visitors.

Sam had gone and prepared some things while you’d showered and dressed, and by the time you reappear outside your room you hear shuffling from the direction of the library. Curious, you make your way down the hall, peeking your head in and blinking in only minor surprise at the sight of Sam, his shoulders heavy.

“What’s up, Sam-o-saurus?”

Sam looks up and gives you the closest approximation to a bitch face that you’ve ever received from him, clearly not fond of the new nickname that came to you on the spot like a divine enlightenment. He takes a moment to close his eyes and breathe, though, which is probably for the best considering your mission for the day. It would do none of you any good if he went near Gabriel while all riled up.

“Gabriel is, uh,” he clears his throat, placing down a sterile steel tray in the shape of a bean and small surgical scissors, along with a scalpel. Your gaze strays to the side and sees that it was the first aid box he’d been ransacking as you arrived. “Not very open to visitation from me right now. I think I might be a bit… bit big. He doesn’t really even see me when he looks at me, so I don’t think he realises who I am.”

You wince, trying not to dwell on the information longer than needed to file it away for later consideration. “Oh. Sorry, Sam. You want me to go see if I can bring him out?”

“Please,” the tall man says, gesturing to the tools on the glossy oak table. “I figured we could start by getting rid of those stitches over his mouth, if nothing else. I don’t think he has enough grace right now to stop infection so we should try and reduce the risk.”

His words sadden you, but you know the truth they hold. Your limbs feel a bit heavy as you push away from the doorway.

“Alright. I’ll be right back.”

Gabriel’s allocated room isn’t all that far from the library, and the note on the door sticks out like a sore thumb so you don’t have to worry much about getting lost on the way (ignoring that at this point you know most parts of the bunker like the back of your hand). Once outside his room, something gives you pause though.

Are you ready to see him in that state again? Or is it that a small, tiny part of you fears he won’t recognise you, either?

Ridiculous of you, really. You take a moment to admonish yourself for the thought. If you take a second to factor in the difference in time spent in hell, even without considering all the time he was missing, Gabriel had to have been trapped and tortured for over a century at the very least. Centuries and years might mean nothing to a celestial being who has been alive for millennia, but over a century of fear and torture is a lot even for someone with such impressive mileage.

You shake your head, attempting to clear your thoughts and emotions so you don’t enter his room with an overwhelming aura. Okay, showtime.

A soft knock echoes as your knuckles meet the wood, a moment passing before you speak, attempting to keep your voice as soft and nonthreatening as possible.

“Gabriel? It’s y/n, I’m going to come in now.”

You allow another moment to pass before you ease the door open, blinking in surprise as your eyes are greeted by light—it seems the archangel has every bulb in the vicinity burning its brightest. Understandable, since you presume he wasn’t exactly kept in well-lit conditions.

For a second, you think he’s not in the room. You don’t see him anywhere, and you’re about a split-second away from turning and calling Sam when you catch a glimpse of something shifting in the corner, behind the bulky side of a wooden dresser. You think for a second that you’ve forgotten how to breathe, chest painfully tight, as you realise that the small form huddled and curled in the corner is, in fact, the archangel Gabriel.

You hate that you’d noticed him only because of the filthy scraps of material that stick out against the dark décor of the bunker.

“Hey, Gabriel,” you say softly, keeping the door open so he has a route of escape and moving over as slowly and cautiously as you can. “I’m just gonna come over and sit in front of you, alright?”

You figure that even if he’s not entirely listening to everything you’re saying, it’s better to announce what you’re doing before you do it, for his benefit.

Something painful ricochets off the inside of your chest as you grow close enough to see him around the dresser and you’re confronted with his beaten, bloody and battered figure once more. His gaze is anywhere but you, and the way he presses himself into the corner is like he’s trying to make himself as small as possible. It takes all of your willpower to squash down the unexpected sob that catches low in your throat. What is wrong with you?! You need to get a grip.

“Oh, Gabriel,” you find yourself saying before you can stop. “I’m so sorry…”

The closer you get to him, the lower you try to make yourself in his peripheral. It wouldn’t do any good to startle him by appearing big and threatening. It makes you frown when you remember just who it is that you have to think this way about. It’s sad, you think. The Gabriel you’d known was prideful, glaringly bright and loud in his presence, both as a trickster and an angel, and that he’d been reduced to… well, to this? It made your chest feel heavy.

Slowly and as quietly as possible, you ease down onto your knees in front of him, doing your best not to rush anything. It’s hard—you’re a hunter, used to moving with speed and a sense of urgency. So to take your time and really be in the moment for each of your actions is definitely an odd change from the usual autopilot your brain resides in.

He doesn’t acknowledge your presence once you’re still in front of him, not really. You had expected as much though, and as much as he seems unresponsive you do see the occasional flick of his eyes in your direction before they dart away, like he couldn’t believe he’d dared to look at someone instead of the floor.

For a few minutes, you simply let him adjust to your presence, your company. Ever so slowly, you see the tiniest bits of tension ease from his shoulders, his eyes no longer darting around like a frantic squirrel. You take the opportunity to take in the wounds and sores littering his body, doing your best not to get too upset by what you see. Dirt and grime coats him in layers, and you mentally note that your next goal with him would be to get him in a damn bath.

It can’t be comfortable, sitting in all that grime…

“For the sake of transparency,” you begin when he seems like he will be open enough to listening. “I’ll tell you why I’m here. This is your space right now, and I don’t want to intrude on it unless I really need to.”

He doesn’t meet your gaze, but you sense you have his attention. “Given that right now you’re low on… strength, and not healing as you usually do, we need to take care of some of the worse wounds you have. If we don’t, it’s a risk of infection, and we don’t know how well you would fight that off in this state…”

You clear your throat, attempting to keep yourself on track. “So, if you’re able, we’d really like you to come out just for a moment, so we can fix up some of your sores. I promise that you can come right back in here afterwards, and that unless we have something really important we’ll leave you alone. Sound good?”

He doesn’t nod, doesn’t really move, but the way his eyes move to yours and hold your gaze for a bare second longer than you expect, you gather he’s not entirely against it. You offer him a smile, oddly proud of him. You’d seen firsthand how hard it can be to get out of these mindsets, even just for a moment. Effort is hard and that he’s making it means everything.

“Perfect,” you say, shifting in your spot so you can stand more easily. “Alright, I can help you up, if you’d like, or you can stand on your own if you want. What do y—”

Your hands had already begun to outstretch as you spoke, and you’re taken by surprise when before you even finish speaking his hand is whipping up to grab your wrist in a sort of monkey grip. You’re left blinking as you help him up, moving on autopilot. You expect him to release you as soon as he’s standing, but it adds to your surprise as he wobbles in place and retains his grip, if anything shuffling a little closer.

“Okay,” you say, angling your body and adjusting your grip so that it’s loose and as nonthreatening as possible. “Let’s go. Thank you for cooperating.”

Of course, there’s no response and he’s silent the whole way to the library. You remember that Sam is in there only as you approach the threshold, but unlike what you feared, Gabriel doesn’t seem to react too poorly to him like he apparently had earlier. Risking a glance his way reveals that actually, amongst the frayed and almost manic energy, he seems oddly… grounded, just for the moment.

Well, this is certainly going better than you’d anticipated.

“I went to bully Dean this morning, but he woke up before me and left before I could get to him.”

You’re in the process of cleaning the wounds around Gabriel’s mouth and removing the ugly stitches that have been sewn into his lips. As something to distract him as much as you from what you’re doing, you’ve begun chatting idly to the archangel, unbothered by the lack of response. Sam sits a metre or so away, researching for Dean who had apparently called earlier when you were coercing Gabriel out of his room.

Still Gabriel doesn’t hold your gaze, eyes averted as he leans forward in the chair for you to reach his mouth, but you can tell from the way his eyes occasionally flick to you as you speak that he is listening, somewhat. It’s enough of a win that you’re willing to take it.

He winces each time your alcohol swab goes over the entry point of a stitch, but doesn’t flinch away too badly. You’re pretty proud of him for that, actually, because it must hurt like a bitch.

“You got him yesterday, though,” Sam pipes in from the side, amused as he recalls your arrival. “Barely an hour after you got here and he was quitting and heading to bed.”

“It’s hard being so naturally talented,” you say, placing the swab down and reaching for the small scissors and tweezers. “I’m an absolute delight, and Dean should appreciate that!”

“Has anyone ever believed you when you told them that?” Sam asks, presumably referring to the ‘delight’ bit.

“Why wouldn’t they, Samuel?” you ask, giving the massive man a light spritz of stink-eye. “Do you have something to say to me?”

“Nothing you don’t already know,” he snorts in response, turning a page in the tome he currently has in his lap.

You bite your lip to hide your amused smile, turning back to Gabriel. You place your hand softly on his cheek to let him know that you’re about to go back in for the stitches, before raising the other tool and bringing it to the first of the thick threads woven through his flesh. Wincing, you try and snip it as delicately as possible. Now seems like a better time than any for more distractions.

“If you think I’m bad, you should be glad you never met my grandfather,” you inform the youngest Winchester, successfully severing the first stitch and beginning the icky job of pulling it out. Gabriel makes a muffled noise of pain but remains still, and you pat his hand softly in support. “He could stir the shit out of anyone, man. Like, I’m not even kidding. The bastard gene I got from him was actually watered down by the time it got to me, so count your lucky stars.”

Sam makes a noise of contemplation, like he really is taking the time to thank whatever powers that be— those apparently being Chuck, as you’ve heard— that you’re not more like your grandfather. Honestly, you’re not kidding—they really should be grateful. You loved your grandpa but you’d never met anyone so quick to stir whatever pot may present itself before them. An opportunist with bastardous tendencies, one might describe him.

In the silence that follows, you jump to another topic for the sake of distraction once more—you’re about to move onto another stitch.

“So, now that your mother is here, are you guys actually eating like normal human beings?” you ask, tongue pressed between your lips in concentration as you try to snip the thread as painlessly as possible by manoeuvring the small scissors. “Like, balanced meals with vegetables and shit?”

You hear Sam pause in the motion of turning a page, a scoff turning into a laugh as it climbs his throat. “What—homecooked meals? Our mom? Dude, she’s worse than Dean in the kitchen, and I really didn’t think that was possible.”

You pause your ministrations to face the tall man, squinting. “What? No way. No way is she worse than Dean—”

“We’ve had to replace the fire alarms twice already,” Sam says, meeting your gaze with a look that is full of both fondness and exasperation. He lets out a laugh at your flabbergasted face. “Dude, I wouldn’t believe it either if I hadn’t seen it for myself. You’ll see, whenever she gets back with Jack. She can’t cook but it doesn’t really stop her trying.”

“Another terrible chef joins the ranks,” you proclaim dramatically, pulling the stitch you were working on out and going in on the next one. “Oh, to be able to cook. I suppose this Jack kid is our last hope.”

“He’s not even a year old, y/n,” Sam says, deadpan. “I wouldn’t count on it. Also, you can cook, you’re just lazy.”

You shrug, making a face; he has you there. “I will neither confirm nor deny these allegations.”

Once more, you feel Sam roll his eyes behind you—he should get that checked if he’s rolling them so heavily you can feel it yourself. They’re not even eyes that are in your own skull, man.

You proceed to pull shit out of your ass as you take Gabriel’s mouth stitches out, the metal tin to the side soon filled with scraps of thick thread covered in dried blood and muck. The exit wounds where the thread had been have begun to well with blood, the wounds agitated by the removal of the stitches, and you bring a new cotton pad back with alcohol to clean them up. Gabriel hisses at the contact, and you rush out apologies under your breath as you finish up. You’d forgotten to warn him, and it’s only something small but you still feel bad.

“Alright, that’s done,” you announce, mostly to yourself. You look over him, deciding which wound to treat next, when your attention is drawn to the way he seems to be shaking a little on the spot. He’s not as grounded as he was earlier when he sat down with you, and even though you have much more work to do you can tell intrinsically that this is the most he can take right now. Dressing his other wounds would have to wait until tomorrow.

You turn to find Sam already giving the archangel a scrutinising look, apparently arriving at the same conclusion you had. He gives you a nod and you let out a soft breath, turning back to Gabriel and offering your hands should he need them.

“Okay, I think that’s enough for today. Let’s get you back to the room.”

You can only hope tomorrow will offer the same amount of progress as today.

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#supernatural gabriel #supernatural #supernatural fic #gabriel x reader #supernatural gabriel x reader #gabriel x you #supernatural gabriel x you #supernatural soulmate au #soulmate au #my work #alexa play candyshop #spn fic #spn gabriel #gabriel fic #gabriel series #gabriel fanfic #supernatural series #wing fic

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bisexualmikisayaka · 3 years

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disclaimer: i haven’t watched the most recent episode yet (as of 6/19) buuut ive seen a couple spoilery gifs and i’m thinking about what i wanted out of the show. sorry if this makes no sense with the newest material 😭 but you know, and this is just my opinion, if filoni hadn’t defaulted to his standard “competent yet traumatized grizzled man with sweet mystical child” trope and made half the show a circlejerk of his tv ‘verse, i think the bad batch could have been really interesting as the only media to be set during the empire building itself.

what comes to mind is the narrative structure set up by another show he’s been involved with - ATLA. something i noticed during my summer rewatch of it that i didn’t as a younger viewer was the really excellent way that so many steps of aang’s journey were made to parallel or foil zuko’s in some way, or vice versa. the show was structured to play both of the characters off each other narratively until they ultimately came together and didn’t need to show their separate stories. if we had gotten that with hunter and crosshair, or even the bad batch overall and crosshair, i think it could have been much better. we would have been able to see more of the empire’s internal mechanisms, while being able to keep an eye on characters we knew previously (tarkin, lama su and taun we, crosshair - hell, i’d even take one-off characters like shaak ti’s clone team from the fives arc in tcw, since they seem to be the military presence on kamino) while also taking steps into a new era. we could have explored what happens when clones are under long-term influence of the chip, something we’re sorely lacking in canon. would crosshair have been able to resist at all due to his (sigh) mutations? so far the only trooper we’ve seen be able to resist for even a little bit when directly given the order is rex, and i personally like the theory that it’s because his faith in his duty was challenged so much during the clone wars, but there’s never been any real explanation or evidence to prove why others could or could not do that. how do people treat clone troopers when they start getting phased out? do clones under the influence of the chip care that they’re going to die? for god’s sake, the first death trooper is a clone! that kills me and i wish we could have seen more of crosshair’s time as an arm of the empire constructing itself from the existing structures of the republic!

and to counterbalance that - the violence, the order, the suppression and subjugation - we could have had the bad batch’s journey. omega could still be an important character in their newfound literal and emotional freedom, and whatever purpose she serves could likely be incorporated as a plot point. we could also get the other side of the equation, as the bad batch are now persecuted by the empire - we got a good taste of that with the cut lawquane episode and the chain code stuff but personally i think there could be more. crosshair as an agent of the state empire vs the bad batch as subjects actively being marginalized by the empire - it’s a really interesting parallel to draw. because everybody involved is dehumanized (and has been since the republic days) but crosshair and the chipped clones still serve a purpose and are granted sort of a modicum of citizenship (again, implications from the chain code episode), whereas the bad batch are rogue entities who need to be eliminated, on top of their status as clones. and yet ironically, despite the way they are now forced to exist on the margins of Star Wars society, they’re freer than the rest of their brothers. there are so many avenues to take with a group of clones having to adjust to citizen life while still working in active combat situations to survive - funny scenes, emotional scenes, kickass scenes, you name it. i just really wish that more clear parallel storylines had been drawn that we could follow so what when they converged once again, it would be that much sweeter.

#this on top of you know. fixing all the problems in that last post i reblogged #but if i got into the whitewashing in-universe and weird mutual prejudice the clones and tbb seem to have for each other #and what that says about clone standards and society and how i wish we could dig into that #this post would be even fucking longer #star wars #the bad batch #tbb critical #the bad batch critical #sw critical #star wars critical #tbb meta #the bad batch meta #crosshair #hunter

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concussed-to-pieces · 3 years

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The Mettle Of A Man; Part Seventeen

Fandom: Fallout (4)

Pairing: Eventual Paladin Danse/Female Sole Survivor

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Tagging @anonymouscosmos, @culturalrebel, @mercy-and-malice, @deepkittycollecto and @nelba! Enjoy!

Part One: ArcJet

Part Two: The Prydwen

Part Three: Orders

Part Four: Finding Brandis

Part Five: Weston Water And Oberland

Part Six: Meeting Preston And Matthew

Part Seven: Radstag And Radstorm

Part Eight: The Return To Sanctuary Hills

Part Nine: Domestic Ruminations

Part Ten: Institutionalized

Part Eleven: Two Weeks, Three Days

Part Twelve: Haylen’s Warning And The Glowing Sea

Part Thirteen: Under Fire

Part Fourteen: Dichotomy

Part Fifteen: The Litany Trial

Part Sixteen: Nice Try

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains intense recounts of previous abuse, intense depictions of self-loathing, self-deprecation and brief mentions of depression. Stay safe!]

Cade caught Danse before he could depart after the rest of their unofficial 'war council' had been dismissed, the medical officer inquiring, "How are you coping, Paladin? I hope that your adjustment to your newfound knowledge is going well." The arch of his eyebrow indicated plainly that Cade was looking for a clear answer, possibly to dissuade his own concerns.

"I am still uncertain, Knight-Captain Cade." Danse stated bluntly. "I know that Quinlan's reports are accurate. I know that I must be a synth. But it is...it's difficult to wrap my head around it."

"My door is always open, Danse. As it's been since the day you were assigned to the Prydwen." Cade reminded him. "I can't say I've ever had the pleasure of doing a mental evaluation on a synth, but…" he trailed off thoughtfully. "Hmm, that's not quite right. You and I have had sessions before. Maybe synths aren't so different in their cognition. Perhaps this is a nature versus nurture scenario."

"Perhaps." Danse allowed, but he knew that he sounded less than optimistic.

"Maybe in a day or two, once everything has calmed down and you've had time to think?" Cade suggested. "Collect your thoughts, then come see me and we can discuss your current state and the repercussions of Maxson's treatment."

The paladin nodded, relieved that Cade didn't wish to immediately evaluate him. It had been an incredibly stressful and arduous several weeks. More than anything, the paladin was longing to finally get some sleep.

After he spoke to Haylen and Rhys, of course. They deserved his gratitude, if only for their combined efforts in delivering the tip-off that had literally saved his life. To say nothing of their care for Elizabeth in his absence, even though they were unable to free her. They had kept her alive, and that was more than the paladin had dared to hope for.

Danse watched Cade depart, his mind miles away now. Backhand would be incredibly busy in the lead up to the assault. He felt almost irritated by that; it was unfair to ask so much of her so soon after what had transpired. But the luxury of time was no longer on their side. Danse understood, in a practical sense, that they needed to strike as fast as possible. It was entirely within reason that the Institute already knew of their plans and were preparing their own countermeasures.

It still didn't erase the hollow sensation in his gut, the fear that Backhand was all too willing to stretch herself paper-thin for her various factions. He promised himself then and there that he would do his best to absorb some of the burden.

As much as she would allow.

The memory of her ripping her knuckles apart on the manual release of his armor, talking to Matthew's parents, taking her helmet off and smiling at him. Thank you, Danse or I thought you were dead or please don't do that to me again --

Danse chewed anxiously on his lower lip. As much as she would allow. As much as he could feasibly handle. It should have felt odd that he was trading one leader for another, but Danse could only rationalize that it must be another portion of his programming.

"Paladin Danse, sir?"

Rhys . Danse started, turning around. He hadn't even heard the knight approach down the catwalk. Hell, he hadn't even realized he was spacing out in the hallway. "Yes, Knight?" He replied, nodding out of habit to acknowledge Haylen beside Rhys.

"Elder Brandis said you wanted to see us, sir." The knight stated, sounding a bit hesitant. "He said we needed to discuss...certain things."

Of course he did . Danse sighed heavily, bracing himself for some level of a disappointment-fueled tirade.

"Danse, I'm so sorry." Haylen blurted out, her voice shaking. Danse was startled, tilting his head while she carried on, "I wish there had been some other way for me to tell you. You must have been terrified ."

"I was certainly confused, if nothing else." The paladin admitted with a wry smile. "I am immensely grateful to both of you, regardless of my own trials. You followed your training and stuck to your guns, and I couldn't be more proud." He deflated slightly. "Even if the pride of a synth means precious little."

"The synth shit doesn't matter to either of us, sir." Rhys muttered. "We don't care. We're just glad you're back and that Maxson didn't manage to kill you. That's the important part, right?"

"In a way." Danse agreed, grimacing. "Our battle is far from over, however."

"Hey, we're doing something. That's more than a lot of people can say." Haylen reasoned, ever the optimist. "I've got faith in whatever plan you guys come up with."

"Thank you for believing in me." The paladin murmured, giving the only surviving members of Squad Gladius a stiff salute.

"We know you, sir. You protected us, trained us. Built us up from basically nothing." Rhys sounded angry, his typically-sullen expression gone even more sour. "You think we could ever turn our backs on you? You're not that stupid."

Haylen began to protest, "Rhys-"

"Haylen, you and I both know he'll just self-deprecate until he dissolves. I'm not letting that happen." Rhys grumbled at the scribe, who fell silent at his reasoning. Her eyes were narrowed to slits and the sight was immensely entertaining to Danse, who couldn't keep a nervous chuckle from bubbling up in his throat.

"I'm certain the two of you are aware of the devastating depression you dragged me out of all those years ago in the Capital Wasteland." Danse clapped Rhys on the shoulder and caught Haylen up in a rare one-armed hug. "How many times will you two save me? Should I start taking you for granted?"

"Paladin Danse, sir, w-we…" Haylen trailed off, her lower lip quivering. She buried her face in Danse's ribs and Rhys grunted.

"Haylen, c'mon . Pull it together." He huffed, his own eyes looking suspiciously wet. "Listen, sir, I think I've made our position pretty clear. We follow your orders. Learning about that shit with Maxson-"

"I'm so angry! " Haylen interrupted him, glaring upwards. "God Danse, I'm furious . What he did to you is unforgivable, inexcusable." She announced hotly. "Everyone assumed something was going on, but we also assumed it was consensual ."

" 'Everyone' ?" Danse echoed, a weird surge of retroactive embarrassment seizing his body. "I suppose I should be thankful you all were so willing to offer me the illusion of privacy." He mumbled.

"He's never coming anywhere near you again, sir." Rhys stated, his jaw set in an angry scowl. "I don't care if he's the last of the Maxson line. I'll break his fucking skull."

His words stirred Danse's guilt to life, the ugly feeling rearing its head once more. "It is a difficult situation to be in. I do not envy our elders, past or present." Danse tried to pose the sentence with a modicum of compassion, though he was unsure of the attempt's success. The paladin knew that despite Maxson's position of power, Danse bore a majority of the blame for not standing up to the elder until it was too late to prevent his spiral.

"Difficult, my ass ." Rhys growled under his breath.

…

"So we've got Preston, someone by the name of John D., the…" Ingram narrowed her eyes at the readout. " Atom Cats ?"

"Yep. Real into their power armor. And Zeke owes me a favor." Backhand explained, continuing to scroll through her Pip Boy notes. "If I can get them to walk across the pond and cover the Castle, that will free up more Minutemen to join us."

"Should I ask how you managed to ingratiate yourself with so many of these people?"

"I'm a sucker for a lost cause." Vega answered, her tone dry.

Ingram snorted, shaking her head. "Lucky for us, I imagine. Also lucky for us that you're the forgiving sort."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves, Proctor." Backhand retorted. "I'm just not yet in a position to combat your aerial superiority."

"Whew, gonna' file that one away for later consideration."

A soft knock on the comm doorway interrupted the two women, and Vega turned to see Danse peering cautiously into the room. "Paladin! You're just in time, we were about to start rallying the troops. Want to lend a hand?"

"What needs to be done, General Vega?" The paladin asked, his posture gone stiff and proper.

Backhand could feel her smile dim slightly, but she reined herself in. They had all been through so much, she reasoned, and old habits were usually a comfort. "Well, I've got a few calls to make on my own, but if you can get in touch with Lieutenant Garvey that would be a huge help."

"Understood."

Proctor Ingram (who had been watching their exchange with poorly-veiled interest) stepped out of the way so that Danse could settle down at the desk alongside one of their many radio switchboards. "Vega, I think the two of you can handle this." The older woman remarked, giving Elizabeth a sly wink behind Danse's back. "I'll start whipping the base camp into shape. Make myself useful, y'know. Ad Victoriam."

Vega went bright red as Ingram saluted, the proctor sporting an absolutely infuriating smirk. "B-But Proctor--"

"No buts! You guys handle the easy stuff. I'll manage the elbow grease." Ingram then mouthed talk to him! , before strolling out of the comm area. Backhand swore under her breath, thumping her fist into the desk in mute frustration.

"I can leave, General Vega." Danse offered, making her start and whirl to face him.

"No no! No, uh, you're fine. You're not the problem here." Vega assured him, waving her hands nervously. "I'm just...I'm a little uptight, that's all."

"Will your forces refuse to join us?" The paladin asked, his rigid posture easing slightly as he tipped his head back to look up at her. He continued in an undertone, "Would it be simpler to do it with your troops alone? Do you truly need the Brotherhood?"

"We do need the Brotherhood, yes. But I don't think we'll need them for the fighting. We'll need them for the mass casualty options and the refugee care after the fact." Backhand began to pace, mostly so she didn't have to maintain eye contact. The paladin looked fatigued yet determined, and it pained her to know that rest was still so far away for them. Rest and the possibility of actually speaking with him about the thing that had been on her mind in one form or another since…

Well, it had been a long time.

"We'll need help rebuilding more than anything. Not a lot of settlements will be keen to take on synths, so I'll need to figure out some kind of alternative. I really need to talk with Nick and Dea--er, John D ., and get their input on this whole engagement." Backhand rubbed her temples. "And here I thought getting in would be the hard part!" She tried to joke.

After a moment of silence, Vega heard Danse clear his throat. "General... Elizabeth , I know you already have many responsibilities, all of them miles more important than my own struggles."

Backhand looked over at him expectantly, a little confused.

"I have to give Cade a full report." The tall man said abruptly. "I...he wants to know everything that's transpired." He stared down at the floor, the heel of his boot scuffing the grating beneath them as he rushed to add, "I know it's selfish of me to ask you to--I mean, you've been through so much, b-but I was...rather, I am uncertain of this endeavor, and my ability to maintain my composure during it. You tend to have a mollifying effect on me for some reason."

"You want me to be present when you give your medical officer the full rundown?" Vega raised an eyebrow, further confused. Danse was a soldier , surely he had endured a full physical before?

"I am overly anxious. It means reliving some portions of my past that I find...traumatic."

"Oh." Oh . Backhand felt stupid as the truth dawned on her. Everything that's transpired . Of course Danse would want someone he trusted with him, this wasn't a physical exam at all. "What about Haylen or Rhys? Are they more appraised of the situation?"

Danse was shaking his head before she had even finished. "I did my best to keep everything that happened quiet, though it appears that I was unsuccessful. I was told that was my only option, and I did not wish to disobey Maxson's orders."

"That fuckin' asshole." Vega growled. "Alright, if you're sure it's me you want with you, I'm here."

"You don't have t--er, that is, I regret taking up more of your valuable time, General Vega. I promise after this meeting with Cade, I will be fully at your disposal." He assured her, seemingly pained by his current state.

"Danse, I don't care about that. I don't want you better just so you can get used up again, I want you better for you . I'm sorry that all of this robs you of the proper time to regroup, y'know?" Backhand apologized, her words deliberately quiet as she boldly laced her fingers through his own. "Once we're done here, though, you need to take some time off. General's orders."

"I would have to speak with Elder Brandis on the matter. As his most senior paladin, I am unsure if he would be able to permit me that luxury." Danse replied unhappily, giving her hand a gentle squeeze before he released it. "' A run ashore ', always just out of reach."

"I'm getting you time off, even if I have to kidnap you myself."

The paladin's chuckle in reply to her threat was subdued, but it still sent a frisson of happiness through her body. Backhand choked down the guilt of having those feelings in the first place for just a second, choosing to bask in the warm sensation.

"When you're ready, General, I'll need the proper frequencies to speak with the Castle." Danse's request brought her crashing back down to earth, and Vega rushed to oblige him.

There's always something else to do .

…

Two days later, on the cusp of their attack on the Institute, the both of them were seated in Knight-Captain Cade's main office aboard the Prydwen. The older officer sat across from them in the cramped space, a clipboard propped up on his knee.

"The only questions I'll ask will be strictly for clarity's sake." The knight-captain informed Danse quietly. "If you don't want to answer, that is entirely acceptable and within your right, but the more information we have, the better."

Danse nodded, the motion stilted. "I understand, Knight-Captain. I'll do my best to cooperate."

Vega squeezed his hand. God knew she didn't like this one damn bit, but she was going to stick it out for him. After all, he had gone to bat for her against the elder . Loyalty like that was in short supply. "I'm right here with you, Danse." She said softly. He had gone pasty white beneath his usual windblown complexion, and he gripped her hand wordlessly.

"If you could start at the beginning, Paladin. Or as close to it as possible." Cade prompted him.

"Yes, I...of course." Danse rasped. "The first time we engaged was shortly before the Brotherhood lost Knight Cutler."

Cade looked at him over his half-moon glasses, seeming perturbed. "That was...so this was a prolonged assault."

"Not an assault. I did as I was ordered." The dull tone of Danse's voice, the way his eyes had gone almost grey ...Vega wanted to know how the hell Maxson had ever justified this. "I could not bring myself to question Arthur. He came to me, at first simply asking for help even though it was an order. He said he couldn't sleep. I...I never told Cutler. I didn't think it was relevant. I thought I was helping the new elder." Danse looked up at Cade. "I know what it's like to not be able to sleep for all the thoughts in your head."

"Was there a specific point in time where his behavior shifted? Perhaps when it became more clear to you that there was something wrong?" Backhand was grateful for the delicate way Cade phrased the question.

"I…" Danse's brow furrowed. "...had just come back with...after what transpired with Cutler. Four days on base. I was furious with Maxson for stationing Cutler out there, furious with myself for not saving Cutler. I was grieving and hurt both physically and emotionally, as you recall." Cade inclined his head. "I assume you also recall the bite on my arm that appeared shortly thereafter. That was a...result of my inability to perform."

"Ah." Cade murmured, jotting something down.

Bite? Vega could feel Danse trembling. "I-I was...unable to function or perform for him in a satisfactory manner and that was his method of voicing his frustration with me." Danse swallowed hard. "I was mourning , Cade." He sounded like he was begging the other man to understand, begging him not to judge.

Perform for him. Backhand sucked in a deep breath through her nose, willing herself to stay silent.

"After that, I would just comply. It was never as bad as that time. I would perform for him to the best of my abilities." Danse paused, "but I never sought him out, and nothing occurred without me being ordered to do so." He then proceeded to rattle off a distressingly-long list of dates, every time that Maxson had coerced him. "I was not interested in...well, anyone , after Cutler." He muttered after a brief pause, "the term broken seems fitting."

"You weren't allowed proper space to heal yourself after what happened with Cutler. You were injured and then forced to deal with someone who kept prying open your wounds because they enjoyed lording their power over you." Cade theorized, his voice a little sharper. " Broken is not fitting in the slightest, Danse."

The paladin shrugged. "Whatever the terminology might be, then."

" Traumatized , Danse. Emotional wounds take time to heal, just like physical ones. Losing Cutler in the way that we did-"

"I deserved it!" Danse cut off the medical officer, leaning forward and clenching his free hand on his knee. "I failed Cutler, Cade! I should have gone after him sooner! The treatment from Maxson is what I deserved ." His eyes were wild, frantic. "He's an abuser, but I am a man deserving of every last instance of that abuse for my inaction when it came to Cutler!" The paladin reasoned intensely.

Cade sighed, rifling through his clipboard. "Danse, you did not deserve or garner punishment for the consequences of Maxson's orders." He informed the other man quietly. "You were simply a man who lost someone that he cared deeply about."

"And to find out that I'm not even that much!" Danse spat. "I'm still trying to cope with the reality that I am a living lie . My identity as Paladin Danse is nothing but a memory now. Everything I held dear, everything I ever believed in is completely gone. Can you imagine how that feels?" Danse was nearly shouting at this point, moving to stand. "I started out as nothing , and I've ended up as nothing . And I don't know what the hell to do about it!"

Backhand brought her hand up over his elbow, hauling him back down into his seat. " Listen to Cade, Danse." She growled. The paladin fought her grip briefly, but ultimately slumped in the chair. Good thing too, Vega wasn't exactly up to full strength just yet. The large man was shaking again, his breathing coming in harsh bursts. "It's okay, it's okay." Vega found herself repeating the phrase, rubbing circles on his back between his shoulder blades. Many members of military factions found repetition comforting and Danse appeared to be no exception, the large man heaving a massive sigh under the weight of her hand.

"Danse, I'll fully admit to being out of my element here. I never expected to have to treat a synth." Knight-Captain Cade said plainly. "However, I've known you for many years. We have an established rapport. Your body is indistinguishable from an ordinary human body, as proved by my records. Your mental processes and pain responses are normal for a human. I suppose what I'm trying to say is learning that you are a synth may not change all that much, despite what you may be feeling."

Danse choked out a forlorn noise that might have been a sob, burying his face in his hands. "I'm so confused." He confessed plaintively. "You're saying I did not deserve punishment for my failings, but...how else am I supposed to atone for Cutler?" He looked up, tears welling up in his eyes. "How am I supposed to reconcile with these human emotions, Cade? I barely kept myself under control when I believed I was human!"

"Your feelings have always run deep, Danse. Your empathy for your fellow man has landed you in hot water more than once." Cade gestured at Vega. "According to our infiltrator, even the most brutal of synths feel regret and remorse just like we do, though they have not been taught how to cope with it."

"I still feel like a human. Nothing feels different, yet now I constantly second-guess everything I do. I've had a plan from the beginning to shape my future, but I have to wonder about whether that's a lie as well." Danse remarked bitterly. "I had...I had hoped…" he trailed off, shaking his head. "It doesn't matter."

Backhand could feel her heart breaking the longer he spoke. His true identity was an immense blow to him, and on top of it he was still struggling under the burden of the guilt he carried due to Cutler's demise. He blamed himself for Arthur's demands.

"Listen to Cade, Danse." She urged. Her hand was essentially on autopilot as she traced small patterns on the center of his back, moving up and down his spine without rhyme or reason. "You're not to blame for what Maxson did. It's not yours to bear. Trust me, coming from someone who's more than willing to take on other folk's problems, that weight is not yours."

"But-"

"You trust me, right?" Vega interrupted him softly, cupping his face so that he had to look at her.

"With my life, General Vega."

The rapid sincerity of his reply startled her and Backhand needed to take a moment, steeling herself yet again. "I know you trust Cade too, and I know this won't be a quick or easy process. But you accepting that whatever happened was not your fault would be a huge first step."

"I...If I do…" Danse paused, hesitating. "Vega, if I forget about him..."

"Hey, nobody said anything about forgetting. You told me about Cutler, about how important he was to you. There's no way someone like you could forget about him. But you need to forgive yourself, you have to understand that losing him was not your fault." Once more she found herself in over her head, but she did her best to tell him all the things she wished someone had told her when Sergeant Cathan had died.

"He was...he was everything to me." Danse's voice cracked. "And I had to--I had to, he was...I had to."

"What happened to Cutler and his team was an immense tragedy, and a needless one at that." Cade spoke up from his seat, his brow furrowed. "Maxson outed himself quite thoroughly during the trial, I would say. It will be difficult for him to explain his actions away when so many witnesses heard exactly what he said."

Elizabeth felt Danse go still, the paladin hanging on to Cade's every word. "Am I even permitted to be happy that he may face consequences?" He asked uncertainly, wringing his hands. "Is that a breach of protocol, Knight-Captain?"

The medical officer shifted his weight, leaning forward to prop himself up with his elbows on his knees. "I can't promise you swift justice, you know how the Brotherhood operates. But Arthur invoked the right of a litany trial, then proceeded to break his own terms. To say nothing of the fact that he nearly killed someone uninvolved in the trial." Cade shook his head. "His abuse flourished in secrecy. Now that everything is out in the open, I do not believe even his status as the last Maxson will sway the other elders when they pass judgement."

"Thank you, Knight-Captain." Danse closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. "I...thank you, Vega." He continued, a little quieter. He caught her hand in his own, giving it a cautious squeeze. Almost as if he was imitating her gesture from earlier in the week. "I have so much to think about."

"Agreed. Shall I put in a request to Brandis for a leave of absence?"

Danse visibly recoiled at Cade's suggestion, his eyes going wide in dismay. "No! No, I am needed, Knight-Captain. After our assault has been carried out, and the Institute has been wiped from the map, I…" he hesitated, like the words were caught in his throat. "I will gladly take a leave. Until then, however, there is still work to do."

"There is always work to do, Paladin." Cade chided. "Remember what I told you? You will burn yourself out and the Brotherhood can ill afford to lose you."

"I'll see to it that he takes time off after our successful operation." Backhand stated firmly. Cade raised an eyebrow at that and Danse flushed across the bridge of his nose, stuttering a little. "Your health is important to me, Danse. You can be as stubborn as you want, but I'm not letting you weasel out of this."

"I suppose that will have to do." Cade sighed. "Do you have any questions for me, Paladin?"

Danse shot a sidelong glance at Vega that she was relatively certain she wasn't supposed to see, the large man worrying his lower lip. Maybe it was just wishful thinking on her part, though, as Danse shook his head after a moment. "No, I...I just have some reflection to do." He got to his feet abruptly, saluting both Cade and Elizabeth. "Ad Victoriam, Knight-Captain. Ad Victoriam, General Vega."

Cade returned the salute absently, already absorbed in writing something else down. Vega was a little slower, her query of, "do you need me, Danse?" coming out softer than she had intended.

She wanted to believe that the paladin hesitated before he replied, "No, General Vega. I can manage."

Part Eighteen

33 notes · View notes

non-nu · 4 years

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you’re my answer [1] | wonwoo

↠ pairing: actor!wonwoo x manager!reader

↠ genre: secret relationship, actor au

↠ word count: 1.8k

↠ warnings: mild cursing

↠ synopsis: y/n is living out a peaceful existence as the manager of top actor seo jisoo. but all of that changes when jisoo is forced into a fake relationship with her costar jeon wonwoo. thrown together in this bizarre situation, y/n quickly discovers wonwoo isn’t what he portrays himself to be. things get even more complicated when y/n starts to fall for wonwoo.

↠ character profiles ↞

↠ masterlist ↞

“We never should have gone to that hot pot restaurant,” you sigh as you place your phone down in your lap.

“I didn’t think their food was that bad,” Jaebum replies from beside you. You turn to him with a disapproving expression that quickly shatters into a grin when you make eye contact.

“You know what I’m talking about,” you nudge his arm at his widening smile. You let out a short chuckle but fall silent as your mind returns to what you had just been reading. Seeing the worry on your face, Jaebum grows serious.

“More articles are coming out, huh?”

“People are going crazy,” you show him the latest comments on your phone, “Jisoo and Wonwoo have been trending for the whole afternoon. All because of these rumors.”

“You know how it goes,” Jaebum offers some encouragement, “Everyone will forget about it by tomorrow morning.”

“Tell that to Ms. Kim. She’s already asked us to come in for a ‘chat’. I’m going to get an earful and then some.”

Before Jaebum can reply, the door the two of you are sitting next to opens. Jisoo steps out of the practice room followed by her vocal coach, a slightly older woman who is speaking enthusiastically.

“Jihoon is one of the biggest producers right now. You’re so lucky to be working with him,” she gushes.

“Oh really?” Jisoo attempts to inject a modicum of interest in her voice, but you can tell by her expression that she’s losing her will to be polite, “I don’t follow the music industry so I don’t know his work.”

The other woman clucks her tongue and a wistful expression comes over her face.

“The opportunity is wasted on you. I should have gone into acting, then maybe I’d have a shot at a singing career,” she pushes out a harsh laugh and motions in your direction, “Better yet, I should have become a manager. Then I’d get to meet all kinds of celebrities just by driving someone around a couple hours a day.”

Yeah, it’s so great my film degree didn’t work out. The words almost tumble out of your mouth, but you catch yourself.

“It’s a pretty sweet deal,” you reply instead with an awkward laugh.

“Yup, she’s my glorified chauffeur,” the sarcasm behind Jisoo’s comment does not register with the older woman as she lets out another round of laughter. You, Jisoo, and Jaebum all exchange glances as her outburst goes on for a bit too long.

“But you know,” her tone becomes serious as she regains her composure, “would it be too much trouble to pass him my demo when you’re in the studio?”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Jisoo places a hand on the woman’s shoulder as a farewell and begins to walk down the hall swiftly. You and Jaebum bid her goodbye as you follow close behind.

“By the way, Jisoo!” she calls from down the hall as you wait in front of the elevator, “Why don’t you bring Wonwoo around next time?”

“Isn’t there another vocal coach in this city?” Jisoo mumbles as the elevator doors open.

Jisoo has already started her tirade as you put the keys in the ignition.

“In the first place, why am I even featuring on this track? Whose idea was it to put that in my contract? And second of all, how much free time does the company think I have anyway? Making me spend two hours a week with that horrible gossip. All she has me do is run scales half the time and the other half she’s asking for an autograph from this actor or that singer. Wasting my time. It’s not that hard to string a couple notes together in the studio.”

“Oh, is it not? Someone should let Park Hyoshin and Sohyang know.”

Your joke breaks Jisoo out of her ranting mode as one corner of her mouth sneaks up.

“I know it’s shitty, but it’s not worth it to get worked up because of that woman,” you reason with her as you merge onto the main road, “If that’s how she copes with the disappointment of never fulfilling her dreams, shouldn’t we let her have that much?”

A brief silence falls over the car and your heart clenches as you realize what you’ve just said.

“Damn. You really said it.” Jisoo says in an appreciative yet slightly shocked tone while Jaebum lets out an extended “ohhh” behind his hand.

At their reactions, you mentally kick yourself for managing to put your foot in your mouth yet again. You quickly back track.

“No, no. I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant…Really, I-”

Jisoo stops your floundering with a knowing wave of her hand.

“We know,” she reassures you, “I’m sure you meant it to be empathetic, in your own twisted way.”

“You don’t have to call it ‘twisted’…” you mutter but relief quickly washes over you at her words of understanding.

“I don’t know why you try so hard to be agreeable. I think you’re much better this way.” She makes the comment absently while looking out the window.

“You’re unique in many ways, Jisoo.” you tease.

“Oh, but I wish I could be there the day someone lets her have it. She will literally implode.”

“I don’t know if I’d wish that on her.”

“Always the pacifist.” Jisoo says in mock disapproval.

“Some people would say Y/N knows to pick her battles.” Jaebum chimes in and you wave an approving finger in his direction.

“I’m saving my energy for the lovely conversation we’ve been called in to have.”

“God, don’t tell me we’ve finally been summoned by Ms. Kim,” Jisoo cries out in exasperation, “Why do we have to get dragged out because people can’t keep their minds from going crazy with wild fantasies? What’s she going to tell me, anyway? I shouldn’t go out to eat because you never know if you’ll happen to run into another actor?”

You and Jaebum brace for the incoming spew of words and frustration.

“In the first place, what’s the big deal? So we ate at the same restaurant. Who cares? People eat at the same restaurant all the time. There were dozens of other people at the place, too. Am I dating all of them?”

“The rumors started more from the fact it happened three times. Within a month.” Jisoo dismisses Jaebum’s words with a flick of her wrist.

“Also because you’re about to shoot a movie together. Literally tomorrow.”

“Even if we were dating, what’s so interesting about that? It’s my business and it doesn’t belong on the front page of a trashy website that mistakes click bait for journalism.”

“In a way, she should be grateful you and your new movie are getting this much media play already,” you ponder as you pull into a space in the company parking lot.

“Any publicity is good publicity.” Jaebum offers as you unclick your seatbelts.

“Let’s get this over with.” You sigh as you head towards the imposing concrete building.

“She’ll see you now.” Ms. Kim’s assistant walks up to where you had been waiting in the lobby. She motions for you and Jisoo to follow her.

“You can wait here.” She speaks to Jaebum who remains seated.

Her heels click neatly against the perfectly white tiles as she leads you to the main office on the floor. She swings the glass door shut behind you as you enter the pristine room.

Ms. Kim is sitting at her desk with a document in hand. She doesn’t look up, but motions for you two to sit in the metal chairs on the other side of the table. The room is thick with silence aside from the occasional rustling of sheets as she turns a page. You’re examining a twisted glass statue on her bookshelf when Ms. Kim finally places the papers down. She clasps her hands together on the table and slowly turns her gaze up towards you and Jisoo.

“We’ll release an official statement in a few days,” she delivers the edict emotionlessly.

“A few days?” you repeat in confusion, “Don’t we want to stop this before things get out of hand?”

“And why would we want to do that?”

“Because” Jisoo seems shocked she has to clarify this point, “Jeon Wonwoo and I are not dating.”

“Well, now you are.”

You both know the severe woman before you is not the joking type, but Jisoo snorts a disbelieving laugh anyway. You’re met with impassive eyes as the two of you wait several seconds for her to clarify or take it back.

“No.” Jisoo returns the woman’s icy stare, “This is absurd. Do you actually realize what you’re suggesting?”

“I do. And it’s not a suggestion.”

You sense Jisoo bristle at that statement.

“Just what makes you think I’ll go along with this insanely unethical plan of yours?”

“Don’t be naïve, Jisoo. You’ve been in the business long enough to know this is hardly uncommon.”

The two continue to lock stares across the table for several heated seconds. With a sickeningly fake smile contorting her face, Ms. Kim continues to speak.

“If you don’t like it, of course you have the right to break your contract. But I’m sure we’d all hate to see you tangled up in court for the next five, six years.”

You’re well aware her threats are not unfounded. Everyone had read the stories. An endless legal battle and a couple vicious rumors could end anyone’s career. And it would be all business as usual for Ms. Kim and the company.

At this point, you can practically feel Jisoo vibrating in the chair next to you, her temper about to boil over. You had seen her mad, but never like this.

She had trekked a long path to get to where she is now, but you sense she could be capable of turning her back on it all just to throw it in the publicist’s face. When she inhales sharply, you jump to cut her off.

“What do we need to do?”

Ms. Kim keeps her gaze fixed on Jisoo a moment longer before giving you a quick glance. Her eyes linger less than a second before she begins shuffling through the papers on her desk.

“We’ll be in touch with more information. You may go.”

“Ok. Thank you.” You stand up in a hurry but Jisoo stays put, fists clenched tight in her lap.

“Jisoo,” you whisper tentatively, “let’s go.”

Her eyes are daring the woman seated across the table to acknowledge her. Having said her piece and gotten the desired response, it’s like the two of you no longer exist to Ms. Kim who continues to review the documents before her.

“Jisoo,” you place a hand on her shoulder, “There’s nothing we can do right now. We need to leave.”

Jisoo could probably sit there all night, she’s stubborn enough. But instead she slowly releases the tension in her body with a shaky exhale before rising to her feet. Her mouth remains pulled into a deep frown as she stomps out of the room in silence.

↠ a/n: wow. i meant to post this sooner but got super busy😖anyway, the next part is underway and our main man will finally make an appearance! i’ll post it as quickly as i can. in the meantime, lmk what you think so far😊thank you for reading 🌻

#wonwoo fic #wonwoo scenarios #svt fic #svt scenarios #seventeen fic #seventeen scenarios #jeon wonwoo #wonwoo #svt #kpop fic

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bigskydreaming · 4 years

Text

Okay, my thoughts on that last reblog, and the TYPE of protectiveness showcased on Bruce’s part.....and to be 100% clear, this is not meant as a call-out to the OP of that post whom I don’t know and have nothing against, its simply about the fact that this kind of view of Bruce and certain forms of his parenting are not at ALL uncommon in fandom, and I’m just kinda like hi, yeah, I have some issues I would like to raise here plz and thank you:

So the issue I have with so many headcanons that pair massive invasions of privacy and disregard for personal boundaries with the idea that this is Good Dad Bruce Wayne....is that no matter what one feels this says about Bruce’s concern for his children, it simultaneously also says or implies that for such extreme measures to be deemed good and not invasive, and as such NECESSARY.....then his children are not just headstrong....but UNREASONABLE.

Because families fight. The Batfam moreso than a lot, sure, but even still, I think anyone trying to pitch the existence of Good Dad Bruce Wayne is still ultimately trying to build a case for a Batfam who even when they fight, still love each other.

But with a family like that, no matter HOW much they fight....they’re still ultimately all going to understand and be ABLE to keep an awareness that even while FURIOUS with each other....this doesn’t mean they don’t care about each other’s well-being and want to know and be reassured that they’re alright.

And this is what’s not on display on the side of Bruce’s kids, anytime a fic or headcanon or meta defaults to justifying Bruce going to extreme lengths to look out for or even just check up on his kids....because intentionally or not, it paints his kids as total assholes if they’re not even willing to accommodate basic requests about checking in or being checked up on, so at least their dad who loves them knows that they’re alive and well.

Only if and when his kids just flat out stonewall and block any and all LEGITIMATE attempts by Bruce to check up on them, do his more invasive attempts at doing so become necessary and thus ‘justified’ to any degree whatsoever....

With the biggest issue here being that so many fics and headcanons just hop, skip and jump straight over and past any attempt at Bruce giving his kids the OPPORTUNITY to meet him halfway and at least check in or reassure him they’re safe despite being pissed for other reasons....

And go straight to Bruce keeping them under surveillance in manners that wouldn’t be out of place with the CIA’s protocols for watching enemies of the state or what-the-fuck-ever.

And all the while, treating it as though its just a GIVEN that Bruce HAS to resort to such measures....because just....calling them on the fucking phone isn’t going to get him anywhere.

Like yeah, if you want to write a story where he tries that and they block him at every turn, and so Bruce ‘has’ to resort to less than stellar measures to gain any peace of mind, go ahead. Just don’t be surprised if when you write it all out in such a manner, showing each step of the way rather than just skipping straight to the endpoint there as though its a foregone conclusion, you run into people commenting with judgmental opinions of the kids and what assholes they’re being, that Bruce feels he has to go to such lengths at all.

Because I think the reason we so rarely see people ‘showing their work’ here and just jumping straight to Bruce asking forgiveness rather than permission (while umm, usually still not ever asking forgiveness which is sorta kinda still a necessary ingredient of that axiom but I fuckin’ digress).....is because I think deep down most people know that it isn’t really in character for all of the Batkids to just refuse any and all legitimate attempts at checking up on them purely out of spite, just being all “well I’m mad at you so I want you to SUFFER, OLD MAN, yeah, go ahead and wonder if I’m dead or not! Suck it!”

Like, even Jason or Dick at their ‘pettiest’ - I think most people would agree that its more that they’re characterized as WANTING to hear Bruce express actual concern for them....and only getting as pissed as they do because Bruce just flat out refuses to do so and defaults to taking measures that don’t treat them as having any kind of competence, maturity or autonomy of their own....and thus are virtually indistinguishable from actions taken purely out of a desire to control everything around him, rather than a father just being concerned for his kids.

Even when they’re at their most spiteful in regards to not wanting Bruce to know what’s going on with them, its born of an undercurrent of hurt, I maintain, as they’re really mostly just pissed off that there’s even a question of whether Bruce actually cares or Bruce is just being controlling. Because kids shouldn’t HAVE to read between the lines and interpret surveillance tactics as parental concern just to even FEEL like their dad gives a damn, because their dad just flat out refuses to come out and SAY it.

Like, that’s not a big ask, at all, and thus its not something any of the kids are at all unreasonable in wanting and yes, even expecting from their father. Which makes it really obnoxious and one-sided when they’re implicitly painted as being unreasonable for wanting this, because a narrative or headcanon has just zoomed past “calling them on the phone and asking them how their day was like a normal person” as if it was never even an option for Bruce in the first place. Like it was just a given that he had to go full Operation: Periscope In the Plumbing to scout out their current state of health. And there was no sense in wasting time with like, an in person drop-in visit to say hey, haven’t seen you in awhile and I miss you and just want to make sure you’re doing alright and don’t need anything.

(Ever notice how many fics treat it as a given that Bruce always makes the kids come to him and this is normal and reasonable and fine, for him to never venture forth from his manor in search of them.....except in rare cases where its often almost framed as though a visit from Bruce is codenamed “I Can’t Believe I’m Having To Resort To Coming To Your Place Because You Won’t Just Come To Mine Like A Good Son Would?” Just saying).

But yeah.....the problem is never, and has never been, Bruce caring about his kids and being concerned and willing to go to any length to make sure they’re okay or be reassured of this.

The problem is when its implicitly treated as though Bruce launching operation SPY ON MY KIDS LIKE A GOOD DAD DOES as his step one is like, more reasonable and understandable and just BETTER...as opposed to......just being like “Alexa, call my kids” first instead.

Like....no. That is backwards. That is not Good-Dadding. That is Creeper-Dadding. Bruce’s kids are one hundred thousand million bajillion times valid for being like WOW COULD YOU JUST NOT in response to this, because aside from the whole issue of how “is this totalitarianism or just good parenting” should not be something that’s actually in question and needs distinguishing, like.....there is a very real, very understandable (and for some of us) very relatable element of “I am also feeling all the hurt and resentment that you’d rather bug my apartment or hack my phone than just fucking TALK TO ME LIKE A HUMAN BEING and treat me like you place a modicum of trust and respect on any answers I give from my place of Being an Adult Who Is Actually More Than A Little Bit Competent and Responsible, Not That You’ve Noticed Apparently.

Also, a good exercise here would be like, before deciding on a course of action for Bruce in regards to one of his kids, first imagining another character you aren’t as predisposed towards, like, deciding on that exact same course of action in regards to that exact same kid.

For an example, look at the time Tim left Gotham in Red Robin and wasn’t speaking to Dick, and how Dick still very much was concerned about him and wanted to check up on him.

Look at how even just Dick asking Tim’s friends like Steph and Cassie to check in on him for Dick was characterized by a lot of people.

Now imagine if Dick had been like “well, Tim’s not speaking to me no matter how much I try to apologize to him, but I’m still really worried and concerned about his safety and well-being, and also I am his big brother and I know what’s best for him....so I am going to bug his phone and ask Raven to spy on him magically and also maybe ask Superman to occasionally lurk in the bushes outside his hotel room and peep in on him and report back on his breathing patterns like a creeper BUT ONLY BECAUSE I TOTALLY CARE AND THUS NONE OF THIS IS UNREASONABLE.”

Like......hmm. Does that fly with most people? Would that go over at all well, or do you think that maybe Tim might have pitched the mother of all unholy temper tantrums upon hearing that Dick had done any of this let alone all of this....AND BEEN COMPLETELY JUSTIFIED IN PITCHING SAID FIT ABOUT DICK’S CHOICES HERE?

Would this be at all defensible on Dick’s side of things, even with it being 100% true and even taken for granted that he only did this because he genuinely loves his brother and was genuinely worried about how he was doing and hell, even IF it was genuinely a given that Tim was not going to give him the time of day no matter how he went about asking Tim to just check back in occasionally to let Dick know he was still alive and alright?

Or would it - even in light of all that - still be seen and construed as invasive, infantilizing and disrespectful of Tim’s rights to privacy and self-determination, not to mention his capabilities in looking out for himself?

Now......swap a few characters in and out of the key slots here.

Imagine Bruce in Dick’s place here, enacting any or all of the above or even actions slightly less hyperbolic but no less intrusive or boundary-crossing.

Would any of those actions be any LESS invasive, infantilizing or disrespectful of Tim’s rights to privacy and self-determination, as well as his capabilities....just because Bruce is his father and not his brother?

See what I mean?

Its never at all an issue that Bruce loves his kids and is concerned about their safety, nor is it actually untrue that his kids aren’t stubborn and headstrong.

The only actual issue is when its framed as though all of this means that Bruce skipping to “launch drones from Batcave” before he even TRIES “hit speed-dial on phone”....

Is both valid and necessary, and thus a sign of a Good Dad....rather than just Bruce’s own fears of being rejected or turned away by his kids. Or an example of his own flaws with interpersonal communication rather than evidence of his kids being completely unreasonable little assholes with a lifelong commitment to Suck It Dad, Yes Even IF You’re Legitimately Worried I Might Be Dead Right Now.

Et cetera, et cetera.

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tonymystarks · 4 years

Text

‘For the Future’ -Stony Fic

Steve x Tony, pre-slash getting together. Slow dancing at a gala can get to the best of them

(hey everyone! I’ve been in the softest fluffy mood lately and actually felt like writing again so, here we go!)

Tony knew that galas were essential to the company. Tony knew that it was vital that he threw them and that he was there, but that didn’t mean that he had to like it.

He stood at the back of the event space, leaning against the wall, and people watched. He knew that he should be talking to people, schmoozing his way into hearts, but he found himself unable to turn on the Stark charm like normal. He knew why too, and he was upset about it.

And the reason was just across the dance floor from him, laughing and smiling as he dazzled the room. Stand there, tall and blonde, taunting Tony by looking so suave in his dark blue tux. Tony wanted nothing more than to walk over, grab his hand, and kiss him senseless, but he did have a modicum of self-control. Even though, with every passing moment, it was getting harder and harder to be in the same room with him.

He refused to call it a crush, but it was just a stupid crush. There was no way that Steve felt the same way. Therefore, his feelings didn’t mean anything, and there was no way he was going to do something stupid like ruin one of the best friendships he had ever had by not being able to control his feelings.

Steve had volunteered to come with Tony to the gala, even though it had nothing to do with the avengers. He had stated ‘I know how much you dislike them, Tony, I just want to make it easier for you.’ He gave Tony the puppy dog eyes that he just couldn’t say no to, and now he was here. He had spent the evening trying to avoid Steve, dodging him when he could, hiding in dark corners and along walls.

He was no super-spy, but he knew how to hide when he wanted to.

“Why are you avoiding me?”

Ah, OK, maybe he wasn’t that good at it.

Steve must have spotted Tony while he wasn’t paying attention.

Tony looked up at Steve and didn’t see anything that indicated that he was upset. There was a slight smile on his lips and a softness behind his eyes. Tony had to look away before he started to blush.

“I’m not avoiding you; I’ve just been busy.” Even Tony could hear the lie in his voice, and Steve just chuckled.

“You have been avoiding me, and you aren’t even talking to anyone. I’ve seen you, shellhead. Sneaking around like you’re on some kind of mission,” Steve said playfully, moving to stand closer to Tony.

“You’ve been watching me, Cap? Can’t say that I’m surprised; my presence is magnetic.” Tony joked, hoping to lighten the mood,

Instead of lightening the mood, it stiffed to something a little darker, more intense. It felt like Steve’s eye was drilling into him, and the air between them was electric.

“I’m always watching you, Tony.” There was a heat behind the words that made Tony’s stomach do a flip. Tony refused to read into that.

“Right, well enough of that. Stop paying attention to me and pay attention to your adoring fans. I’m sure some people would die for a dance with you.” Tony was just trying to end the conversation so he could get back to sulking.

“Speaking of dancing…” and Steve held out his hand, just as the music shifted to a slow-tempo waltz.

Tony felt the flutter in his stomach again. There was still a heat present between them, but there was also an earnest-ness to the words Steve spoke. Tony wanted to say no, but he didn’t think that he could. His body, acting on itself own, put his hand into Steve’s outstretched one.

“Why Captain Rogers, asking your best doll for a dance?” Tony spoke before he could stop himself.

“Yes.”

Oh. That was something new. Tony felt like a teenager, a giggle trying to break out of him, which he promptly shut down. He let himself be pulled out onto the dance floor, not fully comprehending what was happening.

They made their way to the middle of the dance floor, and Steve dropped his hand to Tony’s waist, forcing Tony to put his hand on Steve’s shoulder. They started to move slowly to the string quartet that was playing. It felt like their bodies were made for each other, the way that they fit together. The pressure of Steve’s hand on his hip was welcome, as Tony felt like he could melt at any moment.

“You OK? You’re looking a little flushed.” Tony finally lifted his head to look into Steve’s eyes.

The softness was still there, but there was a touch of concern. Steve’s face was always so open and raw with emotion, never feeling the need to hide what he was thinking - at least not around the people he cared for the most.

“Yeah, I’m good. Its just been a long day.”

“How much longer do we have to stay. If you’re tired, we should go.” The concern grew deeper in Steve’s face now, and Tony wanted just to kiss it away.

“Slow down, Capsicle, I’m good. No need to rush; we have a whole evening to enjoy.” Tony knew he should jump at the chance to go home, to get away from Steve, but he also knew that he wasn’t ready to let this go.

“Alright, if you’re sure.” There was a sincerity in his tone that made Tony’s heart beat a little fast.

“Yes, I’m sure. Now concentrate; I don’t need you stepping all over my feet.” Tony wanted nothing more than for that conversation to be over. He didn’t need Steve taking care of him, no matter how much the thought made his stomach twist.

The music switched to something a little more uptempo, and their dance picked up. Together, Tony and Steve moved across the floor in a way that might make anyone watching think that they had done this a thousand times before. Steve lead the dance coolly and calmly with all the grace of a well-made man.

“Where did you learn to dance? Not much time from being a soldier, to being an ice-pop, to avenging.” Tony questioned.

It was Steve’s turn to blush.

“I’ve been practicing in my spare time. You know, I didn’t want to stuff it up if I ever did have the opportunity to dance with someone special.” The blush only grew in intensity.

“I’m happy to fill in, help you practice some more, not that you need.” After Tony spoke, Steve cleared his throat and looked away.

“No need for that.” Steve continued to stare at the wall behind Tony’s head.

“Oh,” Tony tried to keep the disappointment out of his voice, but even he could hear it.

Steve’s eye snapped back to face.

“No! I just meant- well, I just, um, you’re someone.” Steve stammered.

“What? I’m someone?” Tony watched as Steve adjusted his posture, standing a little taller and looked at him determinedly.

“You’re someone special.”

“Oh,” Tony said again, but this time there was no disappointment in his voice. “I see. Well -ahem- then I would say your practice has paid off.”

Tony found himself looking into Steve’s eyes again, briefly realizing how close together their faces were. Tony saw Steve’s eyes fall to his lips, and before he knew it, he had closed the last little bit of distance between them.

Steve’s lips were soft, like surprisingly soft. They matched up with his in a way that shifted the earth beneath Tony’s feet. It wasn’t frantic or full of untamed passion, but slow and with purpose. They had stopped moving at this point and were just standing on the floor, slightly in the way of the other couples trying to dance. Tony desperately wanted more, he wanted to feel whatever the captain was willing to give him, but he had some sense left in him. He pulled away from the kiss, only enough so that he could take in Steve’s face.

He was flushed and breathing more deeply than he usually did, considering that he could run for several miles at a time and not even break a sweat. He also looked like he was using every bit of restraint to stop himself from kissing Tony again.

“Well, that was surprising.” Tony sounded just as out of breath as Steve looked.

“It really shouldn’t be. I’ve been gone on you for a while now. I guess I need to work on making my point more clear,” Steve said jokingly.

Tony felt a little lost. He thought that Steve was just a good friend, a good friendly-friend, but it was now starting to seem like his feelings were mutual.

“Yes, I think that you should make a note of that for the future,” Tony said, grabbing Steve’s hand and pulling him toward the exit.

Steve gave a good laugh, a full-bodied one, walking quickly to keep up with Tony. They made it out to a back hallway behind the main ballroom, no one in sight. Steve proceeded to tug on Tony’s hand, pulling their bodies back together.

“For the future,” he spoke softly against Tony’s lip before kissing him again, this time, more powerfully and with a sense of heat behind it.

Tony let himself fall into the kiss, thinking-

Yeah, for the future.

#steve x tony #Steve Rogers #tony stark #stony fic #mcu stony #fluff #getting together #I love the slow dance trope #my fic

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