#as a plant lesbian i just think she’s never done anything wrong in her life | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

surveillance-0011 · 3 years

Text

TBOI Headcanons: Horsemen

Death

He/him

He’s...nice. Not a good person by any means but he’s the most polite of the bunch. Kind of strange though. Creepily calm, a bit sarcastic, and he has a pretty morbid view on the world.

Reserved and usually grumpy. He can be rather chipper off-duty, though. Putting up with the others takes a lot of energy from him.

Tired....

A bit neurotic but good at coming off as a down-to-earth guy.

He’s the most book-smart of the bunch and he’s fairly wise. A bit emotionally stunted, but he tries his best to be mature and make the right choices.

Death is more than a bit nihilistic and pessimistic. He has a hard time just... caring, mostly about himself.

Not to say he’s completely apathetic, he can be pretty empathetic but he tries not to act on that too much because if he did his job would have broken him by now.

He likes to think he’s got it all under control, but he does not. He’s more prone to pettiness and stupid decisions than he’d like to admit.

That being said he’s been pretty good with like. Growing and maturing though. He’s changed more than he realizes in just in the past.... decade or so ago. A bit of a late start for an immortal but hey at least he’s slightly less of a scumbag.

It’s usually not easy to anger him unless he’s really tired or something’s already set him off. When something does piss him off badly he’s a bit prone to freaking out. He’s not very good at handling his emotions.

Sees his own job as a necessary evil, because hey, someone’s gotta do it.

Interested in botany/gardening, as well as literature.

Genuinely nice- or at least polite- to the kids when he’s not supposed to be murdering them. He sees no reason to go out of his way to do so, especially since unwarranted cruelty towards others has only bit him in the ass.

Famine’s older brother. The two have always had each other’s backs.

Diligent, and always considers the logistics to things instead of acting on emotion alone.

Protective of the other horsemen.

Pretty short tbh

His horse’s name is Chili.

Famine

She/he (bigender). You can use both interchangeably or only use one set, she doesn’t care. Fine with they/them too but it’s never really clicked w/ him enough to be preferred.

Usually prefers more masculine terms (brother, sir, mr...) but fine with anything.

.Flips between bouncing off the walls and having no energy whatsoever.

Impulsive, she’s got terrible judgement and has the most idiotic of ideas sometimes.

Fairly easygoing, tries to forgive and forget and doesn’t let little transgressions get to her

Actually pretty damn sad. Needs some self care but never looks after herself.

I mean she’s optimistic and usually happy but like. There’s always just a bit of sadness, you know? He’s dealt with a lot and it’s definitely taken its toll on him.

Disaster Lesbian

Tries to be a graceful loser but she can get a bit more competitive than she’d like to admit.

Has a hard time relating to others and considering how they feel, at least when it comes to anything more complex than “bad thing happened now I’m sad/mad” He’s a drifter by nature, always onto the next big thing for a quick thrill.

Eats a lot. It’s never enough.

Plants and a good deal of food will decay if she touches them, or even gets too close to them.

Like his brother he has some interest in nature. Famine is more on the adventurous side, though. She’s tried to live off the land a few times with varying success.

Named her horse Frisk

Pestilence

He/him

Calm, quiet, but also a pessimistic jackass.

Always in a bad mood. I mean, he’s permanently sick with just about everything contagious and deadly. You’d be grumpy, too!

Surprisingly high pain tolerance. A good deal of his nerves have probably just.. shut down or something. Or maybe he’s just numb to everything after a lifetime of pain.

Sleeps a lot

Dislikes his situation a lot, but doesn’t mind the company of the others.

Lazarus is terrified of this dude. The other kids are mostly grossed out or annoyed by him.

Likes to be alone.

Fairly smart, but comes off as absent minded bc he’s pretty much too sick to function. He slips up a lot and he’s pretty damn clumsy

Probably the most rational of the bunch, when he’s not in airplane mode.

He’s also got a fairly strong moral compass. He doesn’t really like fighting the kids unlike War and Famine. Or just having to go up against people in general. Hell he hates the fact people get sick because of him. At the very least Pest has higher standards and is fairly transparent

But that isn’t to say he’s a good person. Yeah he doesn’t go out of his way to hurt others for shits and giggles and He’s Not Conquest but he doesn’t ever object to any of the shit the kids are put through and well. Yknow he still does kill them. He will also encourage some of War’s antics when it’s against someone he dislikes.

Tries to be as supportive as he can for the others. He knows he can’t do too much without overexerting so he tries to be encouraging and comforting as he can.

This compassion usually isn’t extended to humans, though.

Not very emotive, the only emotions he ever really expresses would be disdain and mild concern.

Not very fond of Conquest but they don’t hate each other. They actually work together well, too.

Friends with Mahalath. They’re pretty close!

His horse’s name is Moses.

War

He/it

He’s not very friendly, he’s pretty defensive and always on edge.

Out of all the horsemen, he’s probably the one closest with the Beast.

Lots of scars n injuries, it’s practically stitched together

One gold tooth

Impulsive, prefers solving issues through violence than through reason.

He can be fairly clever, though.

Intentionally angers/upsets others, likes causing problems and ruining things for people.

Desires wealth and power

Gets burnt out pretty quickly.

Emotional, insecure, and sensitive, and he hates this part of him. Definitely overcompensates for it.

Explosive temper, quite literally. Catches fire when upset and explodes if it’s more intense. Damage done to him also makes it happen. It’s not entirely voluntary but can be held off, and his “sobbing” sprite is him doing exactly that (but he’s probably also trying not to cry lmao). In the Ultra War fight, however...

Its daily routine leaves a lot to be desired. It wakes up, goes to work, then it goes home and just. Sits and rots.

Also, his diet is god awful. Please just eat a fruit or vegetable for once maybe you’d feel better goddamn.

He cannot remember if his horse is actually a horse or not but uhh he named her Bellum.

Conquest

He/they.

High and mighty sort of attitude. Can be very selfish. Stubborn, set in his ways. Gets defensive if you call him out or tell him he’s wrong.

Gay + nonbinary but in the closet (and denial) about both of those things. They’re trying to unlearn years’ worth of internalized bigotry.

Used to be worse, now trying to unlearn his toxic behaviors. But he’s still awful.

Doesn’t remember anything before their death. However they’ve held very strong Christian (specifically Catholic) beliefs all their life and they have a pretty black and white way of thinking.

Very cold and clinical. He has a bit of a temper but there’s a sort of calmness to everything he does even when he’s pissed.

Just as argumentative and aggressive as War but like more of a threat.

The others call him Connie sometimes, especially Death, who practically almost always calls him by this nickname.

Doesn’t harbor ill will towards Pestilence. They might have been overshadowed, but it’s not Pestilence’s own fault. If anything, being out of the spotlight has been good for Conquest, even if they do miss the attention sometimes. The only reason the two dislike each other is because their personalities clash.

Now if there’s anyone he hates that would be the Headless Horseman. Fuck that guy amiright

Very protective of Death. The two are close, Death is probably the only person who is consistently nice to him.

Utterly terrified of needles (hypodermic, not sewing needles, though he’s not good with sharp objects tbh) and medical stuff makes him anxious

Seems very... off. Just weird vibes but no one can pin point what about him is wrong.

Oh uh and his horse’s name is Josephine.

#the binding of isaac #binding of isaac #tboi conquest #tboi death #tboi war #tboi pestilence #tboi famine #tboi headcanons #long post #some of this is tentative but for the most part this is just. here to stay

16 notes · View notes

missjanjie · 3 years

Text

Better Than Revenge | Chapter 3

Title: Better Than Revenge Summary: Karma Inc.’s business structure is simple - clients hire them when they’ve been grievously wronged and they send one of their revenge mercenaries to right them. As painstaking as their efforts to remain ethical may be, that may be tested when former detective, Rosé, enlists the squad to pick up where she couldn’t on a much higher scale, with potentially greater consequences. Word Count: ~2.7k (this chapter) | ~8k (total) Relationship(s): Rosnali (Rosé/Denali Foxx), Jankie (Jackie Cox/Jan Sport), Halldoll (Nicky Doll/Jaida Essence Hall), Gimone (Gigi Goode/Symone), Gottlux (Gottmik/Olivia Lux) Rating: T

Read on AO3 | Ko-Fi

Chapter Summary: Rosé learns Gigi, Symone, and Denali's revenge origin stories

Woodstock, IL — 2016

Gigi took a deep breath as she stared at herself in the mirror. She could do this, it was fine. Every time her suspicions or confusion would bubble up, she forced them back down. Hannah was nice, she was different from the other popular girls. She didn’t see the ‘weird art lesbian’ with the braces and thick-rimmed glasses, who rarely got pop culture references post-1989, at least, that’s how she made her feel.

“I’ll text you in the morning,” she assured her mother as she threw her bag over her shoulder. “It’ll be fine, I’m just hanging out with a friend.” She was out to her mom, of course, that was her biggest ally. But she wasn’t ready to tell her that the head cheerleader had taken an interest in her. Maybe when and if they became official. Until then, she shook off the last of her nerves and drove to her house, only pulled from her thoughts by the time she was sitting on Hannah’s bed.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” Hannah cooed, batting her lashes and resting her hand on Gigi’s thigh.

If Gigi hadn’t been so blinded by her crush, she might’ve thought Hannah was laying it on a little thick, but she couldn’t act like she didn’t enjoy the attention. “Me too, a-about you, I mean. Sorry, I’m just nervous…”

“How come? I didn’t come on too strong over text, did I?”

“No, no I liked it, it’s just… I’m a virgin, like, I’ve only ever kissed before,” she confessed, her cheeks flushing rosy pink. She had talked a big game over text, but being faced with the chance of starting a physical relationship brought her back to reality.

Hannah pouted, rubbing Gigi’s thigh as she thought, letting her hand inch higher. “Well, you’ve got fantasies, don’t you? I know you’ve masturbated before. What do you think about while you touch yourself?”

Gigi hesitated, chewing on her bottom lip. The other girl wasn’t wrong, she did know what she liked, could conjure up vivid imagery to get herself aroused, but she had never said any of it out loud. “I like powerful, confident women. I guess that’s something that drew me to you,” she started, “I wanna just… give up control, be dominated.”

“Really? Tell me more,” Hannah prompted, kissing along her neck and jaw and slowly tugging Gigi’s shirt off in an attempt to coax her to continue.

When Hannah didn’t seem deterred by her confession, Gigi started to relax. “It’s just, I don’t know, I always feel the need to be in control of my life and with sex, I just wanna let go and give up that power.”

“So like, what would you want someone to do to you?” she asked, a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips.

She bit down on her lip. “Um… tie me up, spank me, choke me, and I know it’s kind of intense but maybe something like cnc or—” the incessant buzzing of her phone distracted her and, concerned it might be an urgent call or text from home, she took her phone out. “Sorry, one sec.”

It wasn’t from home, she had two missed calls from her best friend, Crystal, followed by several texts.

Crystal: GIGI STOP Crystal: SHUT UP! SHUT THE FUCK UP!!! Crystal: She’s broadcasting you on IG live! Crystal: We can see and hear everything…

Gigi’s face fell, her first instinct to pull her shirt back on. Then she slowly looked up and in front of her, that’s when she saw it, nestled between stuffed animals — Hannah’s phone with an instagram live going. She didn’t say anything, just ran out of the house as fast as her legs would take her and through her tears drove right to Crystal’s house. That was when the two of them formed their plot.

In and of itself, it was simple. Gigi waited one day until Hannah was away for a cheer competition and went to her house. “I’m so sorry to bother you, Mrs. Andrews, but I think I left some of my homework in Hannah’s room, she just said to let you know so I can run in and grab it.” Once inside, she found exactly what she was looking for, sliding Hannah’s diary into her backpack and went right back out.

“This feels very Mean Girls, I love it,” Crystal remarked as they taped page after page of the diary on lockers, walls, anywhere they could.

“Well, plan B was to go the Heathers route, so let’s just hope it works.”

And to say it worked was an understatement. As it turned out, Hannah had written things far more incriminating, and because it came from someone of her social ranking, it made everyone immediately lose interest in Gigi’s livestream scandal, and she graduated with the anonymity she needed for survival.

Present Day

“I’ll be honest with you,” Rosé remarked, “it’s kinda hard to picture you as an ugly duckling, especially the way you described it.” Gigi was too pretty, too perfect. Something didn’t add up.

Gigi got out her phone and scrolled through her photos until she found one from her senior year. “Believe it, doll,” she said as she held her phone up. She watched with an amused expression as Rosé looked from her phone, to her, and back with her eyes wide and mouth agape. “Braces off, lasik, learned a lot about how to dress while going to FIDM, which is where I met Symone, who helped fill in the blanks.”

“And made sure she got to do all them things she listed to that bitch without feeling ashamed about it,” Symone added with a smirk, draping her arm around Gigi and pulling her close, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“Why don’t you tell her your story next, baby?” Gigi prompted.

Conway, AR — 2014

Symone watched her sister throw her bag over her shoulder and start to sneak out the window. “Look, I ain’t snitching or nothing, but I still don’t think this is a good idea.”

She and her sister, Lala, were close, sometimes referring to themselves as twins – they were only ten months apart, in the same grade at school. And until the summer after sophomore year, they had the same group of friends. But the crowd Lala ran with now just rubbed her the wrong way.

“You worry too much,” Lala brushed it off. “I’ll be fine, in bed by morning like nothing happened.”

But when Symone got a collect call two hours later, she found out things were far from fine. She drove down to the county jail as fast as she could without getting pulled over herself. Luckily bail was a mere fifty dollars, but once she got her sister back in the car, she looked at her incredulously. “What the fuck happened?”

“One of ‘em brought weed, another brought booze, but when the cops rolled up on us, they said it all was mine. And who was they gonna believe, me or three white kids?” Lala sniffled, wiping her eyes. “I don’t know what’s gonna happen to me,” she whispered.

“I don’t either,” Symone admitted quietly, frustrated at her inability to come up with an immediate solution. “But we’re gonna do our best to get you out of this, okay?”

The best they could do wasn’t easy. It involved a lot of legal maneuvering, meetings with one person in a suit after another. The end result wasn’t ideal, but it was far better than what could have been. Lala was fined three hundred dollars and put on thirty days of probation. In and of itself, it didn’t seem so bad, but the residual consequences took their toll.

“I lost my scholarship, ‘mone. That was my ticket into college,” Lala sighed. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I know I’m getting off with a slap on the wrist, but I really ain’t thrilled about taking out student loans,” she sat down on the floor beside the bed, head leaning against it. “Or maybe I’ll start with community college, I dunno. It just fucking sucks that they all got off with warnings.”

Symone’s brows knitted together, her lips pressed into a fine line. “Don’t you worry baby,” she said after a moment, “they gon’ face consequences one way or another.”

It had taken most of spring break, but Symone finally had all of the pieces for her plan. “Not the most convoluted thing in the world, but it’ll get the job done,” she mused.

Lala looked at her sister, then at her desk and back. “Do I even wanna know where the hell you got coke from?”

“No, you do not.”

Getting the drugs was the hard part. Getting into school early to plant the drugs in the lockers of Lala’s former friends was far easier, as was leaving an ‘anonymous tip’ from a ‘concerned student’ on the principal’s desk.

“God, I wish I could’ve seen them get hauled off in cop cars,” Lala remarked as she and Symone drove home from school. The three students were quietly escorted out of class and arrested, the school wanting to bring as little attention as possible. “Shame that they rich daddies will still get them off lightly.”

Symone sighed and nodded. “Sure, but they’re still gonna get something, which is more than what they got when they threw you under the bus. Bet they’re gonna think twice before they let someone else take the fall for them.”

Her sister smiled softly and shook her head. “You really ain’t gotta do all that for me, you know?”

“I know,” she hummed, “not gonna stop me, though.”

Present Day

“Wow, that’s both selfless and hardcore,” Rosé remarked with an impressed nod. “Did she ever find out where you got the coke from?”

Symone laughed and shook her head. “Nah, that secret I’m taking to the grave.”

Rosé jokingly put her hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay, fair enough,” she chuckled. After a moment, she turned her attention to Denali. “That just leaves you, princess,” she remarked, a slight smirk tugging at her lips. “What’s your claim to infamy?”

Denali tossed her hair off her shoulder and grinned softly. “Who, me?” she cooed, fluttering her lashes. “Well, it is kind of an interesting story…”

Nicky rolled her eyes and tossed one of the couch pillows at her head. “Stop flirting and get on with it already.”

Fairbanks, AK — 2011

Denali groaned when the sound of loud footsteps racing up the stairs pulled her from her quasi-asleep state, then pulled a pillow over her head when the door swung open.

“What the hell are you still doing in bed when the qualifiers are in two hours?” her friend, Kahmora, asked with incredulous horror. She yanked the covers off of her, but stepped back in concern when she finally caught sight of Denali’s face. “Oh god, you look like shit.”

She frowned and rolled over to face away from her. “I feel like I died and was in the process of being reanimated, then killed again,” she lamented. “It’s probably food poisoning… or maybe swine flu came back, I dunno.”

“Did you eat anything unusual?”

Denali furrowed her brows as she wracked her brain. “I mean, Tara gave me those brownies and I had one, but when she said they were ‘special’, I just thought she meant they had weed in them, but that sure as hell isn’t it.” With as much energy as she could muster, she sat upright. “Oh my god, do you think she poisoned me?”

Kahmora arched her brow. “I think that’s a bit much, even for her. Do I think she put something like a laxative in there so it’d take you out long enough that you couldn’t beat her out in the international qualifiers? Yeah, probably. She’s a cunt.”

The skater scowled, her jaw clenched. “She’s a dead cunt,” she corrected, then suddenly shot out of bed. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she muttered as she raced to the bathroom yet again.

There wasn’t an obvious revenge plan for Denali. She knew that nothing she did would get her spot in the competition, and she wondered if it was even worth it. But her pettiness and spite won out and she began planning out her course of action.

“Remember,” she was saying, “if all else fails, we go the Tonya Harding route.”

Kahmora sighed. “For the last time, you are not whacking Tara’s kneecaps, now let’s go.” Despite some pouting from Denali, they went to get the gears turning in their plan. They got to the ice rink and slipped into the locker room without being noticed by Tara, who was in the middle of practice.

Denali picked the lock and took out Tara’s change of clothes. Then she reached into her own bag and pulled on latex gloves and a plastic bag containing several leaves of poison ivy. She turned the shirt, pants, and socks inside out and firmly rubbed the leaves against the fabric, making sure she left as little fabric uncovered as possible. “She’s lucky I’m merciful or I’d rub it on her panties too,” she remarked offhandedly.

Kahmora tilted her head as she watched her. “Do you actually think it’ll take her out of the competition?” she asked as her friend put the leaves and gloves into the ziploc bag.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I mean, it’s possible, probable really, that the constant itching might make it too difficult for her to skate. But this is more about getting even with her. I might not ever get another chance to compete for internationals. She’s lucky the only retribution she’s getting is a few weeks of itchy blisters.”

“Otherwise you’d Tonya Harding her?”

Denali nodded brightly. “Exactly! Now come on, we have to get rid of the evidence.” And with that, they scurried out of the locker room as inconspicuously as they’d entered it and threw out the evidence in a trash can several blocks over.

When the news broke that Tara had withdrawn from the competition due to ‘unexpected physical problems’, Denali did her best to feign shock and didn’t celebrate until she and Kahmora were alone.

“So, what do you wanna do now?” Kahmora asked.

Denali tilted her head in thought, then smirked. “Let’s go get brownies.”

Present Day

“Personally, I still think you should’ve busted her knees,” Mik mused offhandedly. “Like, I bet you would’ve figured out a way to get away with it, you conniving bitch,” he teased.

Denali shrugged. “Maybe, but it’s not very original and it’d look a lot more suspicious on my end.”

“I think it was pretty badass,” Rosé offered, making the other woman smile which, in turn, made her heart flutter — something she chose to actively ignore. Instead, she let all of their stories sink in. None of their reasons for revenge were out of line, none of their victims undeserving. And none of the consequences were as severe as some of the things she had seen in her time. “You all really know what you’re doing, huh?”

“We wouldn’t have been able to keep this up for three years if we didn’t,” Jan replied. “We had all of the potential on our own, but we make a difference together, and then we added Jackie to tie up the loose ends. It’s been smooth sailing from there.”

“Yeah, and now Jackie ties you up instead,” Nicky teased, earning an eye roll in response.

Rosé watched the group interact with a fond smile. She had assumed they all got along to be working together for as long as they have been, but she hadn’t anticipated them truly behaving like a family. It was a stark contrast to the constant coldness and curtness she had grown accustomed to, both in her previous career and in the environment she grew up in. She only hoped it would make the tasks ahead that much easier for them.

#gimone #rosnali #rpdr rpf #i promise everything else will be present day unless its something important lol

10 notes · View notes

sawtual · 4 years

Text

HAHA OK UM. ivy exposition time hehe… come read my thoughts i put down in text for you all to read about what i perceive this fictional woman’s backstory to be (this is a lil more cohesive than my harley one but. YEA)

smal cw for VERY brief mentions of abuse (ivys dad + the joker r mentioned)

Ivy grew up in an emotionally vacant house. Her father was very emotionally abusive + occasionally physically. Her mother was hardly around. This caused her to have to take on a lot of responsibility for herself and basically grow up way sooner than she should have

She put a lot of effort into her schoolwork. She had a very caring and helpful science (either biology or environmental science) teacher, she nurtured Ivy’s love of botany

She got a scholarship to acclaimed college and essentially got a free ride? she worked on the side to pay for any spare expenses.

Woodrue was one of her teachers, he was academically lauded for his work in botany but hadn’t been very relevant in the recent scientific discoveries, essentially he was a big shot who got kind of washed up, but Ivy had studied his research extensively and found him incredibly inspiring.

They end up fostering a very intense relationship STRICTLY focused on their scientific research. (SHES LESBIAN.) They’re trying to prove a hypothesis Ivy’s presented about idfk.. accelerating plant growth. Harnessing toxins certain plants create for their healing properties…IDK I DON’T KNOW SCIENCE <3</p>

Their entire work relationship and all the shit they do feels like going 120 mph down a road the wrong way and she loves it. This is truly the first time she’s had full control over her own life and has someone who actually (as she believes) sees her as an equal and recognizes her intellect.

They end up escalating things because they’re both so desperate to prove Ivy’s hypothesis, and Ivy volunteers her own body for them to test their work on. She refuses Woodrue’s offer because its her theory, so she should be the one to suffer if things go wrong…

WHICH THEY DO. Shit goes sideways and Ivy experiences adverse reactions which cause her to become bed stricken (she refuses to go to the hospital because she’s afraid that the toxins could be extremely dangerous, and doesn’t want anyone to suffer because of her science).

She also tells Woodrue to keep his distance, because she wants him to be safe from it too, and he essentially just ghosts her. She’s upset about it but first blames herself because she feels like she’s done nothing but prove everyone right about what a failure she is.

She starts noticing changes affecting her, and its all kinds of fucked up. I can elaborate on this later <3. But essentially her physiology starts warping due to the green encompassing her, growing up from her hands and feet. I think the green parts of her body are cool to the touch, have a plant like texture, and MAYBE? Have plant cell structure ingrained in them vs animal cells.</p>

Also, the green initially starts slowly spreading up her body but she’s able to halt its progression, in order to lose herself completely (think of the kinda deal in annihilation, instead of sexy green plant lady ivy).

She catches wind that Woodrue had HER research published and is taking full credit for her hypothesis, without naming her whatsoever, and it essentially breaks any semblance of humanity she had left.

At this point she’s kind of crazy powerful and can control plantlife as we all know and love <3 She figures out that Woodrue is having a conference where he’s holding some kind of really important lecture on ‘his’ hypothesis, and plans to unmask his deceit in front of the entire scientific community. </p>

She also discovers that he’s warped her discovery from something she wanted to benefit humanity and the environment, to something to gain profit from, essentially going against everything she believed in.

She bursts into the conference and when she sees Woodrue, she essentially blacks out and next thing she knows she’s essentially pulled a Carrie…. NOT EVERYONE DIES!!!! But its brutal and fucked up and she 100% absolutely slaughters Woodrue and makes an example out of him. This is the point in her story where she officially loses any chance she had of her past life as Doctor Pamela Isley.

She uses his desecrated corpse to warn everyone in Gotham, in the world, that the green has woken and will no longer stand by and be desecrated by humanity.

Ivy does a lot of work trying to collapse industries that harm the environment across the world for a while but it’s also hard for her to much alone, and she almost gets bested a few times @_@ She’s absolutely a formidable threat, but she’s also one person with a massive weakness to fire

She ends up slinking back to Gotham to recover after a particularly nasty encounter

Something abhorrent happening in Gotham catches her eye and she can’t stop herself from making an appearance and attempts to wreak havoc before ultimately getting caught and shipped to Arkham for her “extremist beliefs”

Dr Harleen Quinzel is paired with her for weekly meetings.

Harley realizes very quickly Ivy is most certainly Not insane and repeatedly tries to get it appealed, but no one will listen to her. (Ivy was locked up in Arkham specifically bc of her environmental activism/terrorism)

Ivy’s very snide at Harley at first, looking down on her for being so bright eyed and bushy tailed about everything. She’s very much bitter about how she’s repeatedly been wronged, and always cast as a villain despite her believing she’s doing what she can to save the earth.

Ivy and Harley argue about if women can ever achieve anything in this world, the way its built. Harley says she’s sad ivy feels that way but knows she’s going to make a difference. She’s different and she’ll change things.

Ivy doesn’t entirely believe her but seeing someone so downright full of life and hope really does spark something in Ivy that never really dies down.

Eventually Harley gets reassigned and taken off Ivy’s case. They didn’t have a lot of time together but I think that Harley makes a worthy impact on Ivy. This is also before Harley has interacted much, if at all with the Joker

Time passes, Joker’s manipulation ensues, Harleen becomes Harley.

Ivy sees Harley Quinn during a run in with the Joker but doesn’t recognize her at first.

Until she speaks.

Ivy gets hit with a wave of nausea upon realizing how Harley’s fallen from the proud and bright girl who was sitting across from her in Arkham.

After that she uses the green to try and keep tabs on Harley and one night after a particularly bad beating, Joker kicks Harley out and Ivy manages to swoop in and rescue her from near death.

ALSO, IMPORTANT! Ivy struggles a lot with her disgust toward humanity vs her desire to protect Harley. It’s the reason it takes her a while to actively seek a hurt and broken Harley out and rescue her. (she resents herself a lot for not acting sooner, when she realizes how extensive Harley’s injuries are)

TOSSING THIS HERE . about Ivy’s sexuality. I can’t see her ever really opening herself up to any romantic relationships any time during her school life. She’s very driven and focused on her studies and her research. She never really gave her attraction to anyone much thought, so I think that she just expected she would never feel attracted to anyone? Until she meets Harley. I think that meeting Harley kind of opens her eyes like. Wait I can feel this? I deserve this kind of love? With a woman?… she has to work through some shit but she is a big lesbian in love with her weird little clown girlfriend

um i think thats all hehe…. i have more but i kinda wana write a fic about harls and ivy getting together from my interpretation so…… TUNE IN NEXT TIME <3</p>

#poison ivy #harley quinn #harlivy #dc #text #IM FEELING A LITTLE.. cwazy over them <3 #IF ANYONE HAS ANY QUESTIONS ABOUT WHAT I SAID.. or what im thinking. please engage with me..#talking about this stuff is.. EXCITING AND NICE #UM IF I MADE ANY MISTAKES OR ANYTHING.......cringe.. i am tired and i can only do so much #writing

65 notes · View notes

tea-at-221 · 4 years

Text

The TJLC Debacle: 3 years out from S4 and counting; the copyright mini-theory; so much salt I’m bloated; but in the end, there is peace (I love you Johnlockers)

Ugh, don't even talk to me about Mary.

Don't even talk to me about the way Mofftiss have said they're sick of responding to fans on the subject of Johnlock. Of how they've said they're "not telling anyone else what to think or write about them" (as if they could stop us; as if they even own Sherlock themselves. Do keep reading, because this point becomes much more relevant and in-jokey later on). Don't even mention how they've bitched and whined incessantly because--god forbid--fans got *really really* into their show and emotionally invested.

They're so eager to discount all the beautiful little moments they wrote as accidents. And Arwel, who planted all those props, continually demonstrates that he's on their side (a not-very in-depth-analysis of his Instagram account and the way he interacted with fans towards the beginning of the pandemic showed as much, but I think maybe he’s grown a bit wiser and quieter since at least in terms of Johnlock and all things elephant-related. I don’t know for sure because I stopped looking.)

Anyway--they'd actually prefer for us to celebrate our own intelligence, is I suppose a charitable way of looking at it: our ability to make connections between things in the show; our metas on symbolism; our insightful fanfic; etc., and denounce them as the bad writers that they ultimately are.

More under the cut.

(This post may be of interest to you especially if you came to the fandom a bit later: multiple links to things of relevance/quotes/explanations appear both within and at the end of this entry.)

Because what makes a writer good?

Well, an ability to make people feel an emotional connection to their work, for one. I know this is just my own perspective, but if not for Johnlock, all my emotion about the show would evaporate. There wouldn't be much else there. Other people might get something, but I wouldn’t. Is some of the writing witty and entertaining regardless of any inferred/implied Johnlock? Yeah but, eh, a lot of shows have some good writing and I just don’t give a damn about them.

What makes a writer good?

Not making promises to the reader/viewer that they'll never keep. Plot holes, leading dialogue ("There’s stuff you wanted to say...but didn’t say it.” “Yeah”) never followed through on, puns that are apparently, I suppose, unintentional (e.g. "'Previous' commander?" "I meant 'ex'").

Uh, not writing continual gay jokes that aren't actually pointing toward the inference that people are making them because there's actually something going on there under the surface. (How about just don't make those jokes ever.)

Not being, apparently, oblivious (? questionable) to the queerbaiting they're engaging in *as they’re writing it.*

Acting like their LGBT audience is in the wrong/the bad guy, instead of choosing to remain respectful in the face of dissent. Instead it's just, "we never wrote it that way" / "We never played it that way."

A lot of those other mildly witty shows don’t actually blatantly drag their most passionate fans face-down through the mud the writers themselves created. Imagine that.

I'm not even a fan of Martin Freeman anymore, for the way he handled the whole thing (getting angry, the comments he made about how the fans made Sherlock “not fun anymore”...apparently Martin’s packing up his crayons and going home?)...no offense to anyone who is still a fan of his. I don’t make it a habit to drag him. I do to some degree understand his frustration with having the whole situation taken out on him--he’s just an actor in the show--but I simply wish he’d remained as cool and professional about it as Benedict Cumberbatch instead of pointing at the fans. You’re pointing in the wrong direction, mate.

What also irks me at the end of the day is this: the subsection of people who legitimately responded badly to the TJLC/S4 debacle and went above and beyond to harass the writers and actors/actresses on social media are *few and far between*, but we've been lumped in with them by what feels like...everyone, Martin included. TJLCers/Johnlockers (not the same group, but often treated as such) have been made to look like a bunch of rambunctious, immature, demanding children time and time and again in the wake of S4.

They'd rather, what, suggest John was so in love with Mary? THAT was the relationship they wanted to uphold in that show as so significant and...what, a demonstration of how honorable it is to respect your heterosexual relationship despite, you know...ANYTHING?

Yeah sorry, I don’t believe in that. John’s text-based affair, whether a disappointment for some as to his supposed character, was a very human reaction and I kinda sorta feel like I would have reacted MUCH more strongly than that had I been John. But nope. He stayed with Mary and was *ashamed* of his wandering eye. Ashamed that maybe he wanted to be admired by someone. I can’t think of a scene, off the top of my head, where Mary ever interacted with John without belittling him in some way--if not with words, then with consistently patronizing glances.

The message here is that heterosexuality is not just acceptable, but VALUABLE, however it manifests--but god forbid anyone see a queer subtext. (Why are lgbt+ writers some of the very WORST offenders where this is concerned? And they defend it! Is this childhood nostalgia/Stockholm Syndrome of the very fondest variety or what? Gay angst is all they got if they got anything at all, so it’s still good enough as far as “representation” goes?)

They really want to tell the story of John as so emotionally/mentally fucked up that he surrounds himself with unstable people time and again. They never give any reason *why* he might do that (which they could have done even soooo subtly), or delve into his past--just, apparently it's okay to assume that Sherlock's comment about "she's like that because you chose her" is exactly that.

No. Sherlock and Mary are NOT the same. Not...*remotely*!

Mary is underhanded and evil. She lies. She manipulates. She schemes. Her “love” is based on selfishness, and her assumption that John is a simpleton and hers to mold. She's in it for herself.

Sherlock hides. He prevaricates. He feels. He loves John. He does fucked up things in the name of love, but always for the benefit of those he loves. When he screws up, which he obviously does, it’s painful to us as the audience because we see that it is painful for him when he recognizes and regrets it.

I have never seen Mary regret anything. Those crocodile tears at Christmas? More manipulation. Inconsistent with anything else we were shown about her as a character.

To even think for a SECOND that people could ship Mary and John and mentally condemn John for cheating on Mary AFTER SHE SHOT HIS BEST FRIEND...as if marriage is the be-all-end-all free pass in which every sin must be forgiven until the end of time...as if John broke any covenant with his wife beyond those she broke from the very moment she walked into his life *with an entire fake past.* Is just. Well. It's asking us to accept gaslighting as healthy, loving, normal, *preferable* behavior, so...given the source that message is coming from, it's all a bit meta.

THAT. Is insanity. Maybe Mofftiss are the sociopaths.

How these men could write characters they themselves understand so little (or tell us they understand so little because their emotional maturity has yet to surpass that of the average three-year-old’s), I will never know. I can only imagine that they have absorbed, by osmosis over their lives, real and nuanced human behavior...then churned it back out again in their writing unaware, a bit like psychopaths who teach themselves what "normal" people do so that they can pass as psychologically sound in regular society.

Remember, we *are* talking about men who do these sorts of things:

Moffat says that Sherlock is celibate and that people who claim he's misogynistic when he does things like make Irene Adler imply she's attracted to the detective (even though she's a lesbian) are, ironically, "deeply offensive" (despite lines like "look at us both" in Battersea. We aren't your therapists, Moffat--we don't care what you meant, we care what you said, and what you *said* was clear. *Implying* it does not let you off the hook).

Gatiss has proclaimed that "I find flirting with the homoeroticism in Sherlock much more interesting" than the idea of ever making a show addressing LGBT issues. (That link is to a reddit forum, and I can't find the original interview anymore, but I assure you I had seen the actual article myself ages back and can't find it online again now along with some of the Martin quotes I wanted to link to. And nevermind what Gatiss has done with LGBT shows/issues since--my focus here is on what he has said, versus what he and Moffat have since claimed regarding their queerbaiting.)

Here’s a transcript of this screenshot:

"...many people come up and say they didn't realise." Despite this lack of public awareness, being part of the gay community is clearly important to Gatiss: "The older I get the more I want to give something back. I mean, I keep meaning to do something." When asked if he'd be interested in making a series about gay issues his response was enlightening:

"No, I don't think I'd make a kind of gay programme. It's much more interesting when it's not about a single issue. And equally, I find flirting with the homoeroticism in Sherlock much more interesting. Of course this reflects the grand picture of everyone's strange make-up; there are good gay people and bad gay people. I wouldn't like to make an issue film around the culture of being gay."

Instead Gatiss' interest seems to lie in making a drama where sexuality is, if not mundane, part of the wider framework: "I'd quite like to do something about a quite happy, ordinary gay person who's just incidentally gay. For example, a three-part thriller for ITV where the lead character just happens to be gay; when they finally go home, say 45 minutes in, and they had a same sex partner. That to me would be genuinely progressive. It wouldn't be a three-part gay thriller for ITV. It would be that this character just happened to be gay."

--End article quote.

And instead, who is canonically gay in the series? Well, Irene Adler. The innkeepers at the Cross Keys. And perhaps most notably, the *villains*, because that's a helpful trope: Moriarty and Eurus are, in S4, both implied to be at least bisexual.

Any character should be able to be any sexuality, this is true. But can we have some main characters, the good guys, give some good representation? Can't we start making that the standard, rather than the villains and the background characters? Because so far, that is the exception and not the rule.

Writers need to be aware of the damage they are perpetuating. We are not quite in a world yet where any character should be able to be any sexuality but isn't, yet we have no problem with saying the villain is LGBT+ or looks different/functions differently than much of the viewing audience.

"Male friendship is important and valid, not everything has to be gay"--this is a popular point with casual heterosexual viewers (and, to my chagrin, some of my LGBT+ friends) who don't fully grasp what "queerbaiting" is, often even when it's pointed out to them.

The lens of heterosexuality is real. My first time through watching BBC Sherlock, I didn't see the Johnlock at all. I had to look for it and read about it. When I saw it, the lens was lifted for me, and it changed my life and the way I view things forever (and for the best).

But back to my point about how little Mofftiss seem to understand their own story/most ardent fans, and then on to my other theory: in S4 it must be that they dropped their “psychopaths emulating empathy” act and indulged in their own "insane wish fulfillment" by doing away with all of the meaning, continuity, and sense. Right?

So, here’s the alternate theory. One which is not, please remember, in their defense.

Remember that S4 is what Mofftiss are *happy* to have us believe is what they'd do with these characters, given the chance to do whatever they wanted. I repeat, in Moffat’s own words: “Insane wish fulfillment.”

Okay I get it, this pasta has been over-salted.

Without further delay: MY COPYRIGHT RESEARCH THEORY THAT EVEN I DON'T PUT MUCH STOCK IN AND WHICH DOESN’T MAKE UP FOR THEIR CRUELTY EVEN IF TRUE

Part of me also raises an eyebrow at S4 as perhaps an example of the effect of the Conan Doyle estate on any modern production in the US. While it’s true that all of Sherlock is part of public domain in the UK and has been for quite a long time, Gatiss and Moffat still talk about it being partially under copyright. Specifically, the last 10 stories. I’m supposing that this means that because Sherlock airs internationally, or due to whatever contract the BBC has with the Doyle estate, they are still limited by the copyright as to what they can “publish”.

The Doyle estate is known for being a pain in the ass when it comes to abiding by copyright law as everyone else knows and practices it. They’ve tried to argue, for example (in 2013 and, much more recently, with the advent of Enola Holmes), that because Holmes and Watson were not fully developed as their final selves until the conclusion of all 10 stories still under copyright, then perhaps the characters themselves should still be protected, basically, in full.

It’s true that certain elements of the remaining stories are still under copyright here in the US (Watson had more than one wife--uh huh, we have that to look forward to, Johnlockers; the Garridebs moment is still under copyright--yeah, I’m getting to that too; and Sherlock didn’t care much for dogs til later so that’s not allowed either, fuck off Redbeard), but the estate’s problem in 2013 seemed to be based around a fear that *gasp* some day--if not right now!--anyone could write a Sherlock Holmes story in any way they pleased, changing the characters however they wished to and giving those characters “multiple personalities.”

See the following excerpt from the Estate’s case:

“...at any given point in their fictional lives, the two men's characters depend on the Ten Stories. It is impossible to split the characters into public domain versions and complete versions.”

(Click for full transcript.)

Obviously, by this point, that’s been done in multiple iterations. So I dunno. Their argument was *more* than muddy to begin with--they just grasp at straws to stay in control, it seems.

But okay. Backing up: wasn’t there sort-of a Garridebs moment in S4?!?? you cry. Yep. But imagine this: the Conan Doyle estate taking Mofftiss to court to argue that they depicted the Garridebs moment--a moment still under copyright--in The Final Problem.

Did they, though? Did they really?

The fandom cried out about the ridiculousness--the utter disappointment--of that moment when it was shown. It was not what we would have expected/wanted. We didn’t see John injured, Sherlock reacting with tender outrage to the good doctor’s attacker.

Instead we saw some ludicrous BS that was as bad as the clown with the sword-gun-umbrella. More of that.

I think Martin probably found that it was easy to produce real tears when he thought about how fucking terrible the S4 scripts were.

Ahem. Yet, this all seems very Mofftiss-flavored in terms of humor.

I can all-too-easily imagine them saying, “HA. We’re going to show some of these supposedly copyrighted things--and if they take us to court, they’ll be laughed out of the room.” Could that explain some of the overall S4 fuckery?

Sherlock wasn’t supposed to like dogs til later stories, as previously mentioned-- is that why Redbeard pulled a “Cinderella’s carriage” and transformed into a pumpkin (Victor Trevor)? Hmm. Sigh.

It...doesn’t actually appear that the estate has any qualms about taking laughable stuff to court, I mean...*shrug.* They have the money to do it, and money is the name of the game, because you’ve got to pay for rights (cha-ching sounds).

Yep, it does seem that the estate is open to the copyrighted materials being made reality, but who knows for what price or with what caveats. The BBC isn’t, so far as I’ve ever heard, known for throwing money around. Early Doctor Who would be so much less entertaining if they’d had any sort of budget. (And in fact, more of the older episodes would exist, but apparently the BBC--in part to cut costs--reused some of their tapes.)

My bottom-line bitter is this: Mofftiss do like to amuse themselves. To please themselves and no one else, as they’ve shown time and again. Sure, they could do whatever they wanted with S4...and they did...but they were also cruel about it, and that’s what I’ll never forgive them--OR the BBC--for.

A lot of fans gave up after series 4. I was very nearly one of them. I was angry, like just about every other Johnlocker and/or TJLCer, but I was really truly heartbroken. I couldn’t look at fanfiction. My days were full of bitterness and I keenly felt the lack of the fandom outlet that had become so essential to my mental well-being. I didn't know how to overcome the disparity between TJLC and what the show actually was. I didn't know how to separate the things I loved so much from the shitty writers and the way the BBC handled things with their whole response letter (that atrocious, childish blanket response they sent to everyone who complained about S4, not just the Johnlockers/TJLCers. Related to your complaint or not, if you filed one post-S4, this was the response you got). I still boycott BBC shows/merchandise, just by the way.

I tried to link to the blanket response letter but the link didn’t want to work (it’s an old reddit post; I had difficulty finding a copy of the letter elsewhere though at one point it wasn’t so hard...Google is weird these days y’all...tell me it’s not just me) so here’s a screenshot:

Transcript:

“Thank you for contacting us about “Sherlock”.

The BBC and Hartswood Films have received feedback from some viewers who were disappointed there was not a romantic resolution to the relationship between Sherlcok and John in the finale of the latest season of “Sherlock”.

We are aware that the majority of this feedback uses the same text posted on websites and circulated on social media.

Through four series and thirteen episodes, Sherlock and John have never shown any romantic or sexual interest in each other. Furthermore, whenever the creators of “Sherlock” have been asked by fans if the relationship might develop in that direction, they have always made it clear that it would not.

Sherlock’s writers, cast and producers have long been firm and vocal supporters of LGBT rights.

The BBC does not accept the allegations leveled at “Sherlock” or its writers, and we wholeheartedly support the creative freedom of the writers to develop the story as they see fit.

We will of course register your disappointment.

Thank you for contacting us.

Kind Regards,

BBC Complaints Team

So how about that? *Did* they “register our disappointment”? We can actually check that. The BBC’s website has a monthly summary of complaints received. So what did they receive in January 2017, the month S4 aired?

Huh, what do you know. Sounds like that blanket response was exactly the “fuck you” it came across as.

But the show--the FANDOM--had filled a need in my life, and so I had to own that and make it mine, or just...let something in me die: something that felt like an actual vital organ. I had to decide that these characters mean something to me beyond what anyone else tells me they should. I had to accept my own perceptions as truth, as I do with everything else in my life. I had to overcome the idea of canon as law (BBC Sherlock isn't canon anyway; ACD is canon. BBC Sherlock is, in the end, badly written fanfiction--or--worse?--decent pre-slash fanfiction distorted by consistent lies and the hazing of the LGBT audience, topped with the dumpster fire of S4′s incoherent nonsense).

I had to take the good and throw away the bad, just like anyone else who chose to stay. The good bits of the show...dialogue, yes. Plot points, yes. These awful writers did write some good stuff sometimes.

They just broke all the unspoken rules of what not to do to your audience. And then did and said everything they could not to apologize, and to justify their own failings. Which, in the years since I began shipping queer ships beyond any others, I have unfortunately experienced more than once.

So, my vulnerability has been yeeted into the vacuum of broke-my-trustdom: no one can tell me what things should mean to me. I will decide.

I decide that all of the FUCKING AMAZING writing in the Sherlock fandom is a staple in my life that makes it worth living. And that that's okay. And takes precedence over anything the writers or anyone else associated with the show could ever say or do.

Johnlock can not be taken away. It doesn't belong to them. It never did, even if they brought us to it. It belongs to us. To the group of amazingly creative, brainy, empathetic, resourceful, vibrant, resilient people who make up this fandom.

So thank YOU, all of YOU, for giving me Sherlock, Johnlock, and TJLC.

I am SO SAD for those who never found a way to make peace with this fandom again. Let me just say that I understand that inability entirely.

I am fortunate that I found the ability in myself to cling to the joy (something it has taken my whole life to be able to do). I hope others will who haven’t yet but wish they could.

Let Mofftiss and whoever sides with them stay angry and bitter and vicious, always looking over their shoulders for anyone who dares to whisper about subtext.

I’m proud to be part of what they’re whispering so angrily about.

Thanks for sticking it out if you made it this far. I know this was very self-indulgent and rambly.

Articles of interest:

A Study in Queerbaiting (Or How Sherlock Got it All Wrong) by Marty Greyson

“We never played it like that.” - Martin on Johnlock

Henry Cavill on the Enola Holmes lawsuit

More on that--and by the way Sherlock isn’t allowed to like dogs

The way Sherlock creators told fans Sherlock & John aren’t gay is so rude

Especially for those new to the fandom who may not know the distinction between TJLC and Johnlockers and want to know more about TJLC's evolution/what it is/meta through the years

Moffat's view on asexuality, offensive to me in particular *as* an asexual person (same article where he claims he isn't misogynistic): "If he was asexual, there would be no tension in that, no fun in that – it's someone who abstains who's interesting."

Yet he says Sherlock isn't gay or straight and that he's trying to keep his brain pure which is a "very Victorian attitude"

(Nice historical research there, Moff--actually the Victorians were sex-positive).

Sherlock fans were robbed of the gay ending they deserved

Benedict Cumberbatch has lashed out at his Sherlock co-star Martin Freeman over his negative attitude towards fans

BBC complaints January 2017

Martin Freeman: 'Sherlock is gayest story ever'

From 2016: UNPOPULAR OPINION: "Sherlock" Isn't Sexist or Queerbaiting; It's Actually Trying to Stage a Revolution

Queer-baiting on the BBC's Sherlock: Addressing the Invalidation of Queer Identities through Online Fan Fiction Communities by Cassidy Sheehan

36 notes · View notes

simplyotometrash · 4 years

Text

Blind Dates

Gavin x MC

Warnings: None

Gavin and MC go on blind dates....just not with each other

All of my MCs are written with they/them pronouns unless otherwise asked!

Minor set him up on a blind date. Without him even consenting to it. Gavin hated the very thought of going on a date with someone who wasn’t them. It wasn’t as if they were dating, he hadn’t gotten his nerve up enough to ask. Getting shot at and stabbed and being in overall dangerous situations were way easier than asking the one person he had feelings for out on a date.

“You’re gonna like her! She’s super cool and fun and very athletic!” Minor had said when he dropped the news.

But it wasn’t MC. He’d been head over heels for MC since high school. Since they saved him. After high school, he honestly didn’t think he would actually see MC again. Fate lead them back into his life. He intended to keep them there this time. He wasn’t going to sit back and watch them walk out of his life. He wanted to ask them out. He’d meant to the last few times they spent time together. Yet something always kept him from getting those words out. It was as if they would get trapped in his throat. They never came out. If he wanted to say something, it could never be the words he wanted to say.

So why was Gavin going on this blind date exactly? Because Minor had already set it up with the girl and he didn’t want to be rude. Gavin would have to simply explain the misunderstanding and apologize to her for wasting her time. He just hoped she didn’t get to upset. He wasn’t good when people cried. Comforting people had never really been his strong suit.

Gavin sighed and adjusted the cuffs of his jacket.. A dinner date of all things. Why couldn’t it have been a simple lunch date? Dinner seemed so formal and fast. Lunch or maybe coffee would have been better. He was tempted to kill Minor for the blind date later on. Gavin didn’t want to be in that position. His heart belonged to MC and yet he was set up on a date with someone else entirely. It was not even fair to the poor girl he got set up with. She didn’t even have a chance.

“Gavin?” A voice, clear as a bell, interrupted him from his slightly brooding thoughts.

MC. They were waiting at the same restaurant he was. Oh. They looked stunning. Far more dressed up than he was. Their clothes accented their frame nicely, hugging their body in the right places. The bracelet he had given them dangled on the wrist and it caused his heart to skip a beat.

“Hey, MC. What’re you doing here?”

They laughed. Oh that laugh. It was so beautiful that even angels would stop to listen. “Kiki set me up on some blind date. I didn’t want to come but I couldn’t just turn it down, you know? I figured it couldn’t hurt to humor her and go on this date.”

That was a relief. They weren’t on a date willingly with someone. “Minor did the same thing to me.”

“What’re the odds! I hope you have fun tonight.” They smiled at him, tucking some hair back behind their ear. “Anyone on a date with you is lucky!”

I could say the same thing about you. He thought dismally. Even if they didn’t want to be on the date necessarily, he couldn’t help the sinking feeling in his heart. He wanted to be the one they were on a date with. Not some other guy. What if they took a liking to this other man and actually started dating him? Gavin would lose his chance before he ever got up his nerve.

“Mr. Bai? Sorry for the wait, your party is already at your table. Please, right this way.” A host led him away from you. And his heart felt like a stone in water.

He walked to his table to be greeted by a woman in a beautiful dress, her red hair chopped off short, freckles adorning her skin.

“Hi, Gavin, right? Minor’s told me about you.” She smiled at him as he sat down. “I’m Eliza. It’s a pleasure.”

“Yeah, hello. I’m Gavin. Funny, Minor hasn’t said anything about you. He wouldn’t even tell me the name of who he set me up with.” The chuckle that left his throat sounded happy but was laced with malice. Oh he could kill Minor for this.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw MC and tall, dark haired man in a flashy suit walk to a table a little ways away.. Could you say tacky? It made him feel...angry. Just pure anger. The guy was peacocking, trying to make you like him by looking flashy. Hmph.

“So, uh, Eliza,” Gavin cleared his throat, “Minor said you play sports. What do you play?”

This was how the entire night went. Gavin and Eliza trying to make small talk, albeit awkwardly at first, while Gavin kept watch over you out of the corner of his eye. It looked like you hadn’t gotten a word in all night. You looked pained as you faked a smile. He could tell it wasn’t genuine. Your smile never once reached your eyes during your date with that guy. Gavin could relax knowing that the other guy was not doing too well. That was when things began going much better with Eliza.

“I can tell you weren’t really interested,” Eliza laughed as he escorted her out of the restaurant.

Gavin went so red that it reached the tips of his ears. “I’m so sorry. I tried to not be rude. Minor had-”

“It’s okay, man, I understand. I didn’t get much choice in saying no to him either. He thinks because I’m single that I must need help finding a guy.” She mussed up her red hair with a bit of an eye roll. “Truth is, this was never going to work out. I’m a lesbian.”

“Oh.” That was all he could think to say. It wasn’t a bad thing. Just not what he expected to hear at the end of a date. He must have sighed though because she laughed again.

“Yeah “oh”. You’re cool, though, we should play basketball together some time.” She was waiting to hail a taxi. At least he knew should get home safe. Eliza was a nice woman. Gavin was ready to walk her home if she didn’t take a cab or have a ride. “By the way, I think you should go make your move. The girl you were eyeing all night. She’s the one whose got your heart in a knot, right? Go get her, tiger. Text me and let me know how it goes.”

Eliza got into her cab with a wink and a wave, having already handed him her number. Right. It was now or never. He needed to go to you and tell you how he felt. That whole date ordeal proved it to him. Gavin couldn’t do anything if he never confessed. He didn’t have a chance in high school, he couldn’t lose his chance this time.

Once he’d made it down an alleyway, Gavin took off up into the sky. The less time wasted the better. Flying would get him to your place in record time. He only hoped that he had a chance. If not, maybe being told so would help him finally let go. Closure helped the heart heal after all. The wind whipped his hair and clothes as he soared, the air felt good on his skin. It had been stuffy in the restaurant. The fresh air is where he belonged. He and the wind were connected.

Upon landing and making it up to your door, he tried to make himself look presentable. Though he didn’t think it was working. If only he knew how to calm down the racing of his heart. It was beating so hard that it felt as if it might break bones. Waiting for you to open the door felt like an eternity. He could hear your TV, he knew you weren’t asleep. Not to mention your lights were on as far as he could see.

“Gavin?” You blinked at the sight of him. “Come in, what are you doing here? It’s a bit late, you know!”

“I could ask you why you’re still awake,” he snorted, sliding his shoes off upon entering.

“I just managed to finish a proposal for work! I’m going to have Anna review it tomorrow. It’s the first time in a while I’ve been doing before I have to present to Victor.” You pulled him to sit on your couch.

“How did your blind date go?”

Your smile faltered and you failed to suppress a groan.

“That bad, huh?” He smiled apologetically and patted the top of your head.

“The guy wouldn’t let me speak! Every time I tried, he would cut me off to talk about himself some more. He kept flaunting his fake watch at me trying to get me to notice. I could tell it wasn’t expensive, it was some knock off store brand. He tried to order my food for me without even knowing what I wanted, saying he knew better!” You continued to vent about your awful blind date.

Gavin felt awful that you’d had such a bad time, but he couldn’t contain his smile. You were so expressive. So cute. It was like you were in your own world while you ranted about everything the jerk had done throughout the night. It was shame he couldn’t rescue you from that. At least you were safe. He was thankful for that.

“Enough about my god awful night. What about you? She was very beautiful.” Was that a hint of envy in your voice?

“Eliza was cool.” He gauged the look on your face. You were bad at hiding things. “But there isn’t going to be a second date. We’re going to play basketball sometime as friends, she just isn’t interested in dating.” It would be wrong for him to tell you that she was interested in women. It wasn’t exactly his place to say that to anyone after all. Not without permission from Eliza.

“I’m sorry. You two looked nice together.”

“I wasn’t interested in her, either.” Gavin took in a breath, Now or never. “To be honest, I wished all night that I had been on a date with you instead. I...I’m in love with you. I have been for a while now and- wait! Why are you crying? Please, MC, please don’t cry.”

You wiped your eyes, laughing as more tears spilled. “I’m not upset, Gav! We both went on dates with people we didn’t want to when the person we wanted to be with was on the other side of the restaurant!”

His face went bright pink. That meant you...felt the same way? “You...you...”

“I’m in love with you, too, silly!” You smacked his arm with a throw pillow, making him fake wince with a grin on his face. “I wanted to tell you but you’re so handsome. You have beautiful girls throwing themselves at you. I didn’t think I stood a chance.”

“Come here,” he gently urged you to move into his side. He planted a kiss on the top of your head. “No more stupid blind dates. Next time, I’m taking you out.”

Consider supporting me on Ko-Fi!

#MLQC #love and producer #evol x love #mr love queen's choice #mr love gavin #gavin bai #mlqc gavin #mlqc oneshot #gavin bai x reader #bai qi #waylonwrites

69 notes · View notes

ajfanfic · 3 years

Text

The Golden Room - A 70s Lesbians Witcher Fic

Part four of Snow and Dirty Rain

Read it on Ao3

We were in the gold room where everyone finally gets what they want, so I said What do you want, sweetheart? and you said Kiss me. Here I am leaving you clues. I am singing now while Rome burns. We are all just trying to be holy. My applejack, my silent night, just mash your lips against me. We are all going forward. None of us are going back.

Richard Siken, "Snow and Dirty Rain"

The dykes are always the first to go. That was a fact Geralt had gotten used to. It doesn’t surprise her, and it hadn’t upset her much before. This time, though, her eyes burn as she walks in the door, a pink slip in her pocket. She drops her coat on a chair.

Jaskier looks up from where she’s scribbling in her notebook and before even saying hello, asks, “What’s wrong, baby?"

“Got laid off,” she says roughly.

Jaskier rounds the table and pulls her close. Between their two incomes, supporting the three of them had been a close thing. She says, “I’ll work more nights.”

Geralt wants to say no but bites her tongue. Jaskier knows how she feels about the risks her work poses. She breathes in the sweet smell of Jaskier’s shampoo. “I don’t want you to.”

“I don’t want to either, but what else are we going to do?”

“We’ll figure something out. I’ll find another job.”

“The rent is due soon.”

“I know.”

There isn’t much more to say.

Vesemir calls the next day and Geralt swears the old woman has a psychic ability to tell when something is wrong, no matter the distance between them. The longer Ciri is with them, the more she thinks it might be a parent thing. Jaskier sits leaning against Geralt’s shoulder to listen in.

“There’s always work for you here,” Vesemir says.

Jaskier raises her eyebrows in a question at Geralt, who shakes her head and answers both of them.

“I couldn’t leave Ciri and Jaskier for that long.”

“I meant all of you.” Geralt can hear the look on Vesemir’s face that asks are you stupid, kid?

“We wouldn’t want to impose,” Jaskier says, pressing close to join the conversation.

“No imposition, you’re family. Get that Yennefer to bring y’all down Monday, she can have the guest room for the night.”

And just like that, it’s more or less figured out.

Yennefer jumps at the chance to see Vesemir again. They pack themselves into her battered purple car with bags of groceries and a bottle of Vesemir’s favorite whiskey. Jaskier and Yennefer fight over control of the tape deck before letting Ciri pick. They speed down the highway, “Mercedes Benz” blaring. Geralt can’t help smile as the noise of the city fades away, replaced by the shout of the wind and her little family singing along.

The old farmhouse is much like its owner, weathered and grey in a way that would be imposing if not for the brightness of the life within. Vesemir is waiting for them on the front porch, arms crossed and grinning. Ciri looks between her and Geralt as they climb out of the car, then down at herself.

“I see what you meant, Yen,” she laughs. Between their hair, faded jeans, work boots, and muted flannels, the three look uncannily similar.

“Told you,” Yennefer says. “You were meant to end up here.”

Geralt drops their bags on the step and tackles Vesemir in a bear hug.

“It’s good to see you too, kid.”

“Been too long.”

Vesemir pulls away and smacks Geralt upside the head. “Now, who’s fault is that?” She holds her hand up before Geralt can protest. “Introduce me to my grandkid.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Geralt beckons her up. “This is Ciri.”

Ciri squares her shoulders and tips her chin up. “Good to meet you.”

Vesemir looks her up and down appraisingly. “Can you ride?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Then that’s our first order of business.” Vesemir throws an arm around her shoulder and pulls her into her side. “Why don’t we let Geralt put y’all’s stuff away and I’ll show you around. The ladies can put their feet up for a bit.”

“Hey!” Geralt protests even as she picks the bags up again.

“Vesemir is absolutely right, that long drive was just exhausting.” Jaskier fans herself dramatically.

“And you didn’t even do anything,” says Yennefer.

“Nothing but enjoy your company, darling.”

“You-!”

Jaskier darts up the steps, giggling, with Yennefer hot on her heels. She pauses to drop a kiss on Vesemir’s cheek before heading into the house.

It doesn’t take long for them to decide to stay. They hadn’t talked about what they were going to do next, too grateful to want to ask too much but the next morning over breakfast Vesemir looks up from her coffee and says, “I’m not sure how attached y’all are to the furniture you got in the city, but you’re welcome to the truck if you want to bring anything else down.”

“Honestly, a coat of paint and this place would be nicer than anywhere else I’ve ever lived,” says Jaskier, “furniture included.”

Vesemir smiles. “Then we’ve got our first task. Ciri, what color’d you like?”

She thinks about it for a long moment. “Yellow. Bright yellow.”

“Yellow it is, then.”

Vesemir introduces Ciri to the horses when Geralt goes into town to buy paint. Ciri decides that Applejack is her horse. Applejack has yet to agree, but with time and sugar cubes, Ciri is determined to win him over.

Geralt comes back with paint, and brushes, and a package of seeds that promise to someday be a feast. Jaskier’s eyes light up and she claims a plot by the porch as her garden.

“So I can sit in the shade and keep an eye on it,” she explains. She’s got a wide-brimmed hat on and her hair tied up, a pair of Ciri’s jeans too short at her ankles, and Geralt has to push the hat back and kiss her.

Vesemir kneels in the dirt beside her and shows her how to build a mound and press the squash seeds into the middle, how to make furrows for the carrots, and put marigolds around the edge to keep off the bugs. Together, they plant the seeds.

“Good work,” Vesemir says. “It’s been a long time since I’ve kept a garden here. It’s too much work for one person.”

“Most things are,” says Jaskier. “Most things are, honey.”

They don’t end up using the truck. Yennefer drives down again the next weekend, the rest of Jaskier’s clothes, her records and record player, and Geralt’s few books in the trunk. Jaskier runs an extension cord out the kitchen window and sets the record player up on the porch. Geralt and Vesemir argue over their plan of attack, but settle on taking the week to do the work, one side of the house at a time, top and bottom. Ciri ends up with soap in her hair and Jaskier’s top is soaked through by the time the walls are clean, and they have to take a break for lemonade. They tape off the window trim and pull the chairs away from the wall. Vesemir starts at the top with Geralt, claiming her knees are too old to get on the ground. Ciri obliges and lays on her belly to paint the edge where the porch meets the wall.

The project grows, as projects are wont to do. The house’s bright color makes the trim look dirty, so white joins the yellow splatters on their jeans. A rainy weekend leaves the kitchen bright green, cans of blue waiting at the foot of the stairs for the bedrooms and the next storm. Summer is beginning to frizz Jaskier’s hair by the time they finish and the house matches the riot of color outside.

Vesemir teases them for their taste and Ciri says, “That’s what you get for inviting a bunch of queers into your house.”

There is a glint of victory in the smile Geralt and Jaskier share at that, satisfied in the knowledge that they have done well. After dinner, Ciri and Vesemir do the washing up and Geralt follows Jaskier onto the porch.

Fireflies flicker over the dirt road. They stand for a long moment at the rail, a breeze keeping the night from unpleasant heat.

“Thank you. For coming here.” Geralt doesn’t say for me but Jaskier knows her well enough to hear it.

Jaskier leans back against Geralt’s chest. She sighs, looking out past the small garden she’s planted beside the porch and the wide fields beyond. Geralt’s arms wrap around her and she feels very peacefully small.

“I knew I’d be happy here because you and Ciri are happy. And I am, but I’m happy here for me, too. All of this isn’t what I thought I wanted but it’s good in a way I couldn’t have predicted, putting down roots. I’ve never been in one place long enough to do that before.”

“What do you want, sweetheart?” Geralt says.

She smiles softly and says, “Kiss me.”

#witcher fanfic #geraskier #witcher #mine

6 notes · View notes

dad-victoriam · 4 years

Text

I have one official character each for Fallout 3 and New Vegas, but In Fallout 4, I have like, three. Two Minutemen Generals and a Railroad Agent. Can you tell which play-through I started while bored and stuck in quarantine?

Lupe Campbell

Gender: Female

Pronouns: She/Her

Hair Color: Dark Brown

Eye Color: Pale Blue

Sexuality: Bisexual

Nicknames: General, Madam President, Ma, Lulu

Preferred Weapon: Custom Laser Rifle

Faction: Commonwealth Minutemen

Best Friend: Nick Valentine

Love Interest: Preston Garvey

Has never done anything wrong in her life ever.

Preston knows this, and he loves her.

They have Team Mom and Team Dad Energy.

Sturges says they’re gross about it, but one time they got in a fight and he nearly cried because he though they were going to break up.

Is freakishly strong and constantly concerns and astounds people watching her carry and lift things.

Once physically lifted Hancock up over her head and carried him to the time-out corner when he was antagonizing Danse.

He lives in constant fear of being manhandled again.

Her karma is so pristine it’s practically blinding.

Loves helping Nick on cases, always looks for an excuse to wear the trench coat and fedora.

Has unique sense of fashion, thinks the Minutemen General Cosplay is high couture, only wears high-waist Mom Jeans.

Had joined up with the Brotherhood for a little bit, but after Danse got kicked out she left.

Actually, what happened was she stormed into Maxon’s office, lectured him in a way only a mom could, told him she wasn’t mad, just disappointed and then left the Prydwen and hasn’t returned since.

Maxon locked himself in his quarters afterwards to brood, not to cry, he definitely didn’t cry.

(He cried a little bit)

Danse joined the Minutemen after that. It was like the Brotherhood, but they were as loyal to him as he was to them. It really helped him cope and renewed his sense of purpose.

Lupe and Preston are proud of him.

Everyone jokes that he’s like their son behind their backs. Hancock got caught once (see above mentioned physical lifitng).

Her Mom Energy is so potent that legit most of the companions and even some of the Minutemen and Sanctuary settelers gave her the nickname ‘Ma’

Does not drink, does not smoke, what does she do?

She delivers Justice.

Fox Hawthorne

Gender: Female

Pronouns: She/ Her

Hair Color: Ginger

Eye Color: Green

Sexuality: Lesbian

Nicknames: Whisper (Deacon) Renarde (Curie)

Preferred Weapon: Silenced Sniper Rifle

Faction: The Railroad

Best Friend: MacCready

Love Interest: Curie

Closeted Pre-War, had a family to please her mother, actually pretty sad, doesn’t like talking about it except where Shaun is concerned.

“Fox” is not her real name but she refuses to tell anyone what it really is and there’s no way for them to ever find out for sure.

Deacon once snuck down to the vault to see if it was on record somewhere only to find out she was one step ahead of him.

She hacked the records and wherever her true name had been was replaced with a string of emojis.

🦊🍑👅🖕🏻

Codsworth is programmed to call her “Miss Fox” and does not understand the fact that she has another name so he’s no help either.

She can NOT stand staying in Sanctuary (too many memories) and renovated the Red Rocket station nearby to keep her stuff in.

A settlement formed around it and they’re pretty friendly with their Minutemen neighbors even though Preston is constantly trying to get Fox to join the cause.

She will not, she thinks the outfits are tacky, but secretly still goes out of her way to help settlements.

Curie loves it when she does that.

Her relationship with MacCready is summed up by ‘Pure of Heart, Dumb of Ass / Lesbian’.

Do Not Separate Them.

They platonically raise Shaun and Duncan together.

“This is our dad, and this is our mom, and this is our mom’s girlfriend, Curie.”

Two Snipers Out In The Commonwealth Doing Sniper Things.

He literally pouts every time Fox leaves him at Red Rocket to do Railroad Missions with Deacon.

Curie keeps him company, they get along stupendously.

Other than Railroad Missions, or Settlement Rescue Mission Dates with Curie, Fox and MacCready are joined at the hip and are off doing dumb shit.

Always return to Red Rocket with broken noses, dislocated shoulders, cuts, bumps, and bruises and Curie has to patch them up.

Fox claims her kisses have healing properties.

She’s flirting, but Curie thinks she’s serious and has offered to kiss MacCready’s wounds as well.

He had to politely decline multiple times for fear of facing certain death via sandman kill.

The weirdest trio in the Commonwealth.

No one understands their dynamic.

It works because all three of them are the awkward third wheel of the friendship.

Gender: ???

Pronouns: They/Them

Hair Color: ???

Eye Color: ???

Sexuality: Pansexual

Nicknames: Commonwealth Cryptid

Preferred Weapon: Molotov Cocktail

Faction: Commonwealth Minutemen

Best Friend: Dogmeat

Love Interest: Hancock

Has good intentions, but bad methods.

Takes their title as General of the Minutemen very seriously.

Makes sure every settlement has enough food, water, and defense.

Spends hours decorating and making them look nice.

Could have a promising future (or past?) in architecture and interior design.

Intelligence stat is either 1 or 10, no one knows.

All their strategies are chaotic and crackpot but like; they work???

Chooses the Sarcastic response 100% of the time.

Low-Key devout member of the Children of Atom.

Wears assault gas mask and only ever takes off the mask when they’re furious and deadly serious, or you know, when they’re going to sleep.

Legitimately no one, not even the companions, knows what they look like, or even if they’re human or not.

Hancock knows, because he’s seen them naked, but refuses to tell anyone because he lives for the chaos and will constantly make up fake shit just to fuck with the rest of the group.

Hancock is the only living individual who knows what their face looks like.

Piper tried to see if Shaun knew anything and was like, “are you not even a little curious?”

The kid just shrugged, and like, messed around with a Laser Sniper Rifle he was making and was like “they’re my parent. That’s just how they are. I like them the way they are”.

MacCready swears up and down that he saw them turn their head 180 degrees like an owl one time.

Hancock backed him up, but he was huffing jet and laughing his ass off the whole time so no one knows if he was serious.

Gives “let’s get this freak show on the road” a whole new connotation.

Can only shop at Diamond City Surplus at night because Crazy Myrna refuses to sell to them.

She thinks they’re a synth and will not take “No, I’m Jangles the Moon Monkey” as an answer.

Definitely did blow up the Prydwen.

Stole Maxon’s jacket.

Has the Cannibalism perk.

It’s just practical, there are lots of dead bodies everywhere and food is scarce. If they eat a raider, then somehow, somewhere, there’s a Fancy Lad Snack Cake left for a starving orphan to eat.

No one else seems to see it this way.

Loves Brahmin.

I mean, really loves them.

Will stop whatever they’re doing to pet one if they see one.

If they’re working as part of a caravan, they’ll call them Ma’am and apologize for disrupting their work, but will still pet them.

Caravan Guards who see this behavior: ?????

Maxed Stealth and Pickpocket perks

Is a Little Sneak Thief

All their armor has Chameleon Legendary effects.

This stresses everyone out because that means they can be anywhere at any time and oh my God, where are they? I know they’re in here with me, where are they???

Once snuck up on MacCready (accidentally) and pulled an actual full swear word out of the guy. It was loud.

And it was the Fuck word.

It’s Bo’s proudest achievement.

Was totally on board with being the Overboss of Nukaworld until Gage suggested raiding Commonwealth Settlements.

They take their title as General of the Minutemen very very seriously.

They took off the mask, and all of Nukaworld saw their face that day. T’was brutal.

I’m talking “Rip and tear until it is done”.

I’m talking heavy metal theme music and everything.

It’s a nice and peaceful little trader settlement now. Bo planted flowers everywhere.

So, did you guess which one I started cuz I was bored in quarantine, yet? Did you guess all three? You would be correct.

#i have no explanation #fallout #fallout 4 #fallout 3 #fallout new vegas #fallout oc #incorrect fallout #preston garvey #fallout hancock #fallout maccready #fallout curie #fallout deacon #dogmeat #nick valentine

75 notes · View notes

phantaloon-books · 4 years

Text

I finally read The Tyrant's Tomb and boi I loved this one so much, so here's some my opinion on it (they're not in chronological order)

warning, this is long af and sorry for cursing a bit, I can't help it

Apollo's character arc is lowkey one of the best Rick has written, I'm sorry if you don't agree, but he's gone from wanting others to solve his problems and relying on the halfbloods to intentionally avoiding others doing things for him, volunteering for the quests and saying it should be him that faces the terrible stuff so that demigods and other creatures don't suffer

something really interesting is how his perception of himself has changed, and it's almost worrying how genuinely self depreciating his inner dialogue is, because he no longer sees himself as mighty Apollo, he sees himself as worthless and useless Lester, and his narration is highkey depressing

Also, Apollo disliking and being somewhat disgusted of the god he used to be, realizing the horrible things he had done and how horrible he was and that he looked worse as the former Apollo than as Lester, regretting things he'd done, that's top tier development

(I'm sorry but I love the entire scene with the ravens, the part where he just screams "I'm sorry" it feels as if he isn't just apologizing to the ravens, but to everyone who's been affected by what he's done as a selfish god)

Reyna so openly turning down and laughing at Apollo for suggesting they be together is my favorite thing ever lmao I couldn't stop laughing, like she knew what gods can do if you turn them down (even if it was just mortal Lester) and she didn't give a damn, it was so fucking funny

people say Rick only includes diversity for the sake of including it and to gain popularity, but I still enjoy the fact that he does, because as a teacher he must have had all kinds of students of all religions, colors and sexualities, he includes diversity because he's seen diversity. anyway my point is I love that we have Lavinia, a Jewish lesbian from a Russian family, and she's not ashamed of being any of them

I'm sorry I just love Apollo so much, I've grown to respect him so much, and even if Hermes once said them gods often forget their oaths and promises, I have a feeling Apollo won't ever forget Jason's request that he never forgets what's it like to be mortal

Frank still admiring Apollo despite everything, and despite the fact that he looks like a messed up teen makes me go all uwu

Frank being portrayed as this clumsy and awkward kid but also this powerful and brave leader is my favorite thing ever because I think Frank is underrated and I dare to say that he's one of the strongest demigods we've ever met, even stronger than some of the nig three children

the whole thing about the undead army is honestly so creepy, especially when we see it from Apollo's perspective cause se him slowly succumb to the venom's effect, and that part in Tarquin's tomb where he "calls Lester to be part of his undead" was genuinely disturbing, at least to me

some books in the past have touched the part of the nature spirits not being given enough attention, but I really enjoyed how Apollo comes to realize that he only worries about demigods and gods when all lives are worth the same - mortals, halfbloods, nature spirits, gods, and even monsters

again, I love Apollo's arc, it's just AHH he's becoming so caring of life it just makes me happy

Reyna choosing herself to make herself happy is everything, and inspiring to every single woman who is told by others that they need someone to be happy, I just love it, because self love is the most important love of all

I haven't said anything about it, but man I love Meg and Apollo's friendship, they just care so much for each other, Meg who's so scared of losing her loved ones and Apollo who's so scared of not being able to be loved or to love, but they still love each other, and I'm glad it's not romantic, because yes fraternal love is also what people need, and their friendship is what they need

aurum and argentum being cute doggos rather than the steely (no pun intended) and cold dogs we met in HoO warms my heart. I don't understand why they're so cute and adorable, or maybe that's just how Apollo sees them, but they seem to act like actual dogs in this book

the fact that Reyna never confirmed nor denied being attracted to Thalia just makes me all hyped up, like we love Theyna

Apollo just gives off Eddie Brock vibes throughout the entire book and that's hilarious asf. ever since the start he's said to look like shit, feel like shit and be injured with deathly poison that will turn him to a zombie. if that isn't Venom vibes I don't know what is

I've said it once and I'll say it again, Frank Zhang is one of the strongest demigods Rick has ever introduced in a series, and him facing two immoral and godly in power emperors, burning one to death with his own life fire and injuring the other enough for Apollo to do the final kill is top tier

"If I'm going to burn, I might as well burn bright. This is for Jason." bitch actual goosebumps

We've seen countless deaths before, but something about Frank killing Caligula and Apollo killing Commodus seems so... mature I guess is the word, or well for a more mature audience. I can't describe how or why, but it feels more real, more like actual human death

I can't deal with how human Apollo seems in this book gosh I really am sorry I keep bringing this up, but I feel such warmth

the story of how Frank overcame his curse is actual BS and as much as I love Frank, it makes no sense that they spent all that time thinking of ways to keep the wood secure only for this. idk I mean id that were the case wouldn't the curse had vanished when he broke Thanatos free? he was willing to die then just like against Caligula, so why now but not then?

Don reincarnating into a laurel is peak bittersweet feeling and it actually hurt because in a camp where fauns were seen as dumb and useless, he helped Lavinia organize everything and destroy the canon things on the yachts

I'm still not over Jason's death, he really did deserve better. It makes sense, plotwise, because out of all of the huge characters from the past, Jason, Percy and Annabeth's deaths would impact others the harder, and push them to do better. And I understand that you gotta show, not even the main characters survive sometimes. Still, I'm hurt.

Thalia talking to Apollo during the funeral for the fallen campers made me actually weep. I'm not sure if it was because of Jason, or when Thalia talked about how much Artemis loves Apollo, or when Apollo "accepted" halfblood children of Zeus as his family

Also, you know who deserved better? Harpocrates, damn right he deserved better. I nearly cried when I read his death, cause he embraced it like one would an old friend in happiness. He and the Sybil deserved better. Dakota also deserved better

On the other hand, I tried so hard not to laugh at 2 am as I read Tarquin demand answers from a cat? he genuinely thought a cat would tell him where the Sybilline Books where and I couldn't handle that

This book is cruel but in a much more human way? The maiming of the pegasi wings? that's horrifying, but in such a human way, unlike what we've seen in any of the greek/roman gods series, and it's unsettling

Meg is braver than any of the other demigods were at that age (maybe excepting Nico), cause she's not embarking on a quest to retrieve an item or rescue someone or bring back their sister from the dead, she's facing her own abusive father while aiding a somewhat weak mortal in releasing the oracles and gaining godhood back. what's she getting from it all? absolutely nothing, she's gifted some seeds and she hangs out with unicorns more than other people and she's lost everything, but she's willing to lose more to help her friend. she's heroic like no one else is, because she's the first who doesn’t want anything more than being with her friend (Percy wanted whoever was taken back, Annabeth wanted to be able to be more, Nico wanted to bring back Bianca, even Bianca wanted freedom). the only other person who didn't have somewhat selfish (but kot wrong) interests while doing something heroic at a young age has been Hazel. What I mean is I love Meg and everything she does

Thalia being that chill over Jason's death bothers me so much, as if she wasn't the happiest when she found out the brother she lost 14 years ago was alive after all, and she had a part of her family back, and it was ripped from her, and Thalia is just not one to easily forget or move on from things, it's just unrealistic that she would only need a little furious session of throwing things to be okay with Jason's death as if her brother was not just taken from her all over again. it's impulsive Thalia we're talking about, who fought Percy when dealing with Annabeth going missing, it's just not her to be over his death that quickly. Sorry for Rick but I think differently

I also kinda don't like that Tyson went from being freaking General of the Cyclops, to the guy that has the Sybilline prophecies or whatever, it's important and all, but he would have been of great help during the battle and they had him waiting for help in the shrine hill like his potential went down the drain

but a thing I really loved was how different Camp Jupiter seems from Lester eyes compared from Percy's or Hazel's or Frank's perspective, it's hilarious. The other three see this place where everyone is serious and shit but Apollo just sees beyond the seriousness and it's actually refreshing, cause he's the first not to make CHB seem immature in comparison and like I said before I hated that in previous books

also Reyna laughing watered my plants, cured my depression, and made the world okay again, I just love her

all in all, this is my favorite book of ToA so far, and I'm really excited to see what's to come, and how Apollo and Meg will face Nero and Python, but more than anything I'm looking forward to what will happen to Apollo, and whether if given the choice, he'd go back to being a selfish god or remain mortal for a while, with his newfound friends

Also I really miss Annabeth so can I please see Annabeth, I just want to see her cause she won't deal with Apollo's shit and I can't wait to see that, I miss my girl

24 notes · View notes

holylulusworld · 5 years

Text

I don’t like you but stay

Summary: James ‘Bucky’ Barnes is the newest addition to the Avengers. Trying to help his friend settle in Steve asks his friend and the teams moral support to help him with unknown consequences.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader, Steve x Reader (platonic), Sam Wilson, Natasha Romanoff, Bruce Banner, Wanda Maximoff

Warnings: angst, language, Bucky being a douche, arguments, fights, violence, angry Bucky, tension, possessive Bucky

Takes place after Endgame. Everyone is happy and alive. No one got hurt...

“You could at least try, Buck.” Steve tries once again.

“They don’t like me and I’m not a team player…not for a long time.”

“But Sam helped us back then, just like Wanda and Clint. We fought together against Thanos, it’s only one dinner. Come with me and eat with the team. Y/N will be there too. You know, my best friend.”

“A doll is your best friend now, huh?”

“She’s not a doll, more like our moral support. Y/N listens to us after a hard mission or if we have problems.”

“A goddamn psychologist or more therapist? No way I let her rummaging in my brain. I’ve got enough of people trying to trick my mind or manipulate me, Stevie.”

“Buck, calm down. She doesn’t want to manipulate you in any way. She’s a friend and I want you to visit her once a week. That’s an order Sergeant.” Steve says full Captain now.

“Fine, Captain. But I will not talk to that woman.”

“Then go to her and just sit in her chair but you will visit her.”

“Fine.”

----

“How is Steve’s friend?” You ask.

“Unfriendly.” Nat chuckles. “Ruined my bikini figure by shooting me.”

“That was years ago, and he wasn’t himself.” Bruce throws in.

“Says the guy with the temper problems.” Sam chuckles.

“Guys, I wanted to know how he is now. Not his time during the Hydra crap. It’s awful this happened to him.”

“Honestly we do not know much about him, except he’s a great fighter and Cap’s friend. I mean he’s not hanging out with us at all. Always stays in his room or trains with Cap.” Sam says, and you nod.

“Thought so. That’s the reason Steve asked me for advice. Jesus this will be a hard piece of work.”

“He’s not a bad man. I could read his emotions and he’s torn and hurt.” Wanda says.

“I guess so. After all, he’s been through. I mean being a puppet to someone must be awful. Waking up and everything you know and love is gone is the worst.” You whisper. Lost in thoughts you barely recognize the man standing behind your back.

“The puppet just arrived.” Bucky spats and you sigh.

“Be nice, Buck,” Steve warns.

“Why? She called me a puppet.”

“I said that being a puppet must’ve been awful. I showed compassion.” You say turning around to face Steve’s friend.

Angry blue eyes stare back at you. You never saw more beautiful eyes at a man. Steve has blue eyes too, but this man is beating him without any effort. The soft brown hair frames his handsome face and you can’t stop looking at his lips.

“Got nothing else to justify your speech?” Bucky mutters.

“Hell, I didn’t hold a speech. I…forget it. I’m sorry if you got it wrong. I was just asking how you are doing. Hi, I’m Y/N, a friend of Steve.”

“A therapist without any compassion.” The blue-eyed man snaps at you and anger is boiling up inside of you. Seeing you rolling your shoulders and your body go stiff Steve plants a hand on your shoulder.

“Just breathe…he didn’t mean it that way. You know you can’t…not yet.” Steve says and you narrow your eyes.

“Fine by me, let’s eat then. Wanda and I cooked for all of you. Including our new member.” You say and Bucky scoffs.

“Won’t eat a bite of anything that doll cooked.”

“Then starve to death, Jamesy.” You chuckle.

----

Around one week later…first appointment…

“Why is there no chair or stuff…only a couch?”

“I like to get comfortable while talking to people. I’m not your therapist. We are not in my office this is my room. I invited you to talk to me, but you don’t have to. There are books and newspapers.” You say to lighten the mood.

“I won’t talk to you doll, no matter which kind of trick you will use.”

“I will not force you to anything, James. If you just want to sit over there it’s fine by me. I’ll answer some emails and stuff then.” You say opening your laptop. Seeing you and Steve as your wallpaper Bucky narrows his eyes.

“Are you fucking Stevie?” He mutters.

“Steve and I are only friends. There’s no physical attraction between us.”

“Lesbian or blind?”

“Huh?”

“Have you seen Steve? He’s Captain America.”

“I know that Steve is very attractive and most of the woman want a physical relationship with him too, but like Wanda and Nat, I’m not into him that way. We are friends since he came back. I helped him find a way to live in this for him new world. I would never risk our friendship for sex.”

“So, you would fuck him?”

“I do not like the word fuck…James. I’m not someone who has one-night stands.”

“Prude then?” He asks again.

“Neither prude nor a whore. Are we done talking about me and my sex life? Steve and I are friends. He’s into someone else, by the way, so if you want to talk about something start with your life.” You grunt.

“I like sex, I’m not prude.” James chuckles and you roll your eyes.

“Yeah. I get it.”

----

“Anything? Did he open up?” Steve asks.

“If you mean asking me about you and me and if we fuck, then yes, Steve. He opened up.” You mutter.

“Seriously? He asked if we…uh.”

“I told him we do not have sex. Don’t worry. Also, I told him I don’t like the word fuck.”

“Same.” Your friend stammers shaking his head. “Why did he ask you?”

“Saw the wallpaper on my laptop.”

“I see.”

----

Three weeks, James. If you do not want to talk about anything it’s fine by me. I’ll call Steve and tell him you are…whatever.” You groan while Bucky continues throwing knives at your books.

“Can you stop this? These books are rare. First editions. Stop ruining my books.” You yell now and Bucky starts grinning.

“That so? Do not look rare to me. Just old paper, doll.”

“If you throw one more knife at my books I’ll call Steve right now and tell him you can not attend any mission for the next months. How does that sound to you Bucky?” You mutter and he narrows his eyes. Searching your face, he licks his lips and throws a knife into the nearby wall.

“What the fuck!” You yell.

“Ah, you said fuck, doll.” Bucky teases and you want to strangle him.

“You threw a knife into my wall, you idiot! I can’t believe I promised Steve to help you. What a waste of time and energy. Could have good sex right now instead I’m trapped in this nightmare.” You groan falling onto the couch.

“Good sex? You…seriously.”

“As if you would know how to satisfy a woman.”

“I know how to fuck a girl to make her scream, doll!”

“Sure. That’s the reason you are hiding in your room since you came here. Just like in Wakanda you stay to yourself. No visitors or friends come around. You are one poor and lonely boy trying to get Steve’s attention.”

“I don’t need to listen to your stupid babbling,” Bucky yells storming out of the office.

“Finally, a reaction. I can work with that.” You say to yourself.

----

“How long do I have to come here.” He groans after two minutes.

“Until Steve says otherwise, or we killed each other.” You retort too tired to fight today.

Closing your eyes, you try to ignore the man staring at you. You can’t see it, but his blue eyes are searching your face.

“Why are you so silent today?”

“None of your concern.” You sigh.

“Tell me and I’ll tell you something too.”

“I do not trust you.”

“Pinky promise.”

“Fine, I was seeing this guy for some weeks. We had a few dates and I started liking him.”

“Was the sex bad?”

“Dunno. We didn’t have sex so far. I was busy with my job, the Avengers…you. I haven’t seen him for two weeks, so I called him and he acted like he’s busy. What he didn’t know was that I was in front of his house. I wanted to surprise him and then…”

“Then what doll? Don’t hook me on a story and don’t continue it.” Bucky mutters.

“I saw him with the waitress of the restaurant we were eating at during our last date. He almost choked on her tongue. Grabbed her ass and more.”

“So, he had fun. What’s the problem?”

“Only a guy can ask you something like that. I started liking him. If a woman does like you she imagines things…a future with you. We don’t see just a potential sex partner. We see marriage, children, a home…”

“Sex?”

“Yeah, dammit, Barnes, sex too. But first of all, I thought he likes me but obviously, he did not. He was just another asshole trying to get in my pants. Satisfied?”

“Hmm…” Angrily clenching his jaw Bucky decides to pay your friend a visit.

“Will you tell me something now?” You ask.

“I ate pancakes and strawberries for breakfast.” Bucky chuckles and your eyes widen.

“I can’t believe I opened up to you only for you to make fun of me.” You yell. This time you are the one storming out of the room.

----

“This won’t work Steve. I’m trying to make him open up for six months now and honestly, I’m done. He’s making fun of me. Lies…”

“Lies?” Steve asks.

“He made a pinky promise if I tell him something personal he will do so too. I told him, but he didn’t keep his promise. Told me what he ate for breakfast. I’m done, Steve. Let him go on missions or not. I really don’t care. You know him better than I do…I just can’t do this any longer. I’m sorry for letting you down.” You sigh.

Moving his arms around you Steve gently plants a kiss to your hair. What you both can’t see is the angry look on Bucky’s face and the jealousy welling up his stomach.

----

The next sessions Bucky never shows up, so you decide to tell Steve you did your best. After the little breakdown, you promised to give his friend another chance but obviously, he doesn’t want it.

Leaving the room to finally meet up with Nat to go on a shopping trip you bump into Bruce staring at you with wide eyes.

“You okay? Do you need my help, Bruce?”

“I think James needs your help. His hand is bloody, and he doesn’t want to tell me why he’s injured. Looks like he hit someone, but he refuses to talk to me.”

“Okay. Calm down, breathe.”

“I’m not going to ‘hulk around’ right now. I’m just worried about Steve’s friend. I would’ve asked Cap but he’s away.”

“On a mission with Tony and Clint, I know. Let’s go then.”

----

“Will you tell me why your hand is bloody and your knuckles almost broken?” You ask.

“…”

Sighing you shake your head. He even refused to let anyone clean the wounds.

“Listen I know you don’t like me.”

Not answering Bucky stares at the wall beind you.

“Dammit, you are so frustrating. Steve had to soothe me after our last session. Cap had to hug me to calm me down, idiot!” You mutter and Bucky’s face lits up.

“I had to hit someone.” He mumbles finally letting you clean the wound.

“Why? Was someone else in danger?”

“He hurt a woman and I had to defend her.”

“Oh, then it was justified, I guess.” You say gently putting some sanitizer onto his wounds.

“Hmmm…I’m sorry I did not come to our session. I had to take care of that guy first.”

“It’s okay. I can throw knives at my books on my own.” You tease and he smiles at you for a moment.

“I can do this for you. Bet you can’t even hit the right target.”

“Maybe…or maybe I’m a master…”

----

“He did what?” You gasp.

“I’m sorry to tell you but it seems like Bucky beat your friend into a pulp,” Sam says.

“Why should he do such a thing? I never even told him anything about Matthew. God, did his wife see this? Was she there too?”

“No, luckily we came just in time and thanks to Starks technology we could fix what Bucky broke. Why is he going after your friends?”

“I think he hates me and tries to hurt me that way, Sam. This ends now. No matter what Steve told me I will make Bucky pay for this. Friend of Steve or not I will mop the floor with the Winter Soldier right now.” You yell storming toward the training hall.

Bursting through the door you see Bucky’s surprised face a smile on his lips he walks toward you but the moment he approachs you he feels his body gets slammed into the nearby wall.

“You think you can do this and believe I will not hurt you!” You yell.

“I got no clue what you are talking about.”

“No clue? You almost killed my friend!”

“A worthless piece of shit!” Bucky talks back.

Using your powers, you slam him into the ceiling and then down on the floor. Groaning in pain he can see you start feeling dizzy. Steve was right. It’s too soon to use your powers again.

“I swear I will break your neck stupid bitch!” Bucky yells.

“Do it! Steve will be very happy after you killed his best friend, asshole!”

“I’m his best friend!”

“Forget it! You tried to kill him, you psychopath. Crazy piece of a man, not even able to control his emotions. I’m done…I’m just done with trying to help you for Steve’s sake. Fuck you, Bucky Barnes. Go to hell or back to Hydra. I don’t care!” You yell and for the first time, Bucky flinches at your words.

Tears stream down your face and you need to brace yourself against a wall to not break down. Before you can react an impact next to you make you scream.

“You won’t just leave! I’m not done with you! I don’t like you…but stay…” Bucky pants removing his metal hand out of the wall.

“Why? You tried to kill my friend! He never did anything wrong. His pregnant wife was in his house. Would you have attacked her too?” You sniff and his eyes widen.

“Wife? You said he cheated on you with a waitress.” Bucky gasps.

“Waitress? I don’t…wait…did you believe Matthew was the one cheating on me?”

“Yeah…he was not?”

“No, Matthew is my cousin's husband. One of my best friends since college.”

“God…then I was wrong. I wanted to punish him for hurting you…”

“Why would you do that?” You ask feeling even dizzier.

“I…”

“I think I need to sit down…” You whisper.

Scooping you into his arms Bucky picks you up to run with you toward Bruce’s lab. Someone has to help him...

----

“You see she’s like Wanda but at the same time different. Using her powers means using life energy. She drains her own energy out to perform her powers. I told her she’s too weak by now. The fight with Thanos got her good. Y/N was defending Vision with Wanda and almost died.” Steve explains looking at your unconscious form.

“She’s an Avenger too?” Bucky asks.

“Kinda…more into defending an injured team member and stuff. She uses a shield to protect us if needed. Y/N barely attacks. It’s just not her style.”

“But she attacked me…really good. A hell of a woman.” Bucky says.

“Ask her out, Buck. Man up and tell her how you feel. Watching you pining is kinda sad.” Steve says knocking Bucky on his shoulder.

----

“Hey, doll. Don’t move too much. You really shouldn’t have attacked me.” Bucky says gently holding your hand.

“What happened?”

“You were unconscious and I brought you to Bruce.”

“Oh, Steve was right. I wasn’t ready to use my powers yet.”

“I’m sorry for hurting your friend. I was wrong…uh…I just tried to punish that guy.”

“You don’t have to punish anyone for me, James.”

“But I want to…I don’t like you but…stay. Please stay with me. Don’t leave me too.” Bucky says kissing your hand softly.

“Bucky?”

“I want…I need…I like you. Would you go out with me?”

“Seriously?”

“You don’t want to?” He sighs.

“I mean you need six months to ask me out? Do you need that long to get me into your bed too?”

Eyes darkened Bucky grins down at you. Covering your body with his he presses you into the mattress.

“No.” He rasps before kissing you breathless.

“Fuck. I like you too…but you will have to tell Steve you stole his best friends heart.” You tease.

“I’m his best friend and he knows you stole mine.” Bucky retorts.

“That’s not true! I’m his best friend.”

“Woman don’t make me mad! I don’t like you but I will make you stay…and I’m Stevie’s best friend.”

“In your dreams…now kiss me again and we ask Steve.”

“Those are the most useful words ever leaving your lips, doll,” Bucky mutters claiming your lips once again.

----

“Fucking finally,” Nat groans dragging Steve out of your room.

“They were fighting over me.”

“No, they are fighting to turn each other on. You really don’t want to see what happens next.” Nat chuckles when you and Bucky start moaning.

“I guess you are right. I like them both but I will not stay…”

#marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #angst #arguments #tension #bucky barnes fanfiction #james barnes #james buchanan barnes #james barnes x reader #steve rogers #sam wilson #wanda maximoff #natasha romanoff #bruce banner #bucky barnes x you

1K notes · View notes

hangmansradio · 3 years

Note

are you gonna change Grant's pronouns?

Well nonny... Let me answer your question but also explain the reasoning behind my answer. So I apologise in advance if this ends up being quite long-winded. In short, my answer is no. But please don’t think any less of me and let me try to explain. I’ve talked to so many people about this and been having a really hard time trying to decide what to do. My knee-jerk reaction when I heard everyone saying they were going to change pronouns was that I didn’t want to do that. And then I felt like an awful person for feeling that way, and basically spent a day believing I’m a hideous person and trying to beat my brain into thinking differently. I’ve talked to people who identify as cis, as trans and as non-binary. I have dozens of friends who slip up and down the gender spectrum sometimes on the daily and it makes no odds to me how someone identifies. You can ask me to call you by any pronoun you desire, you could tell me you’ve decided to live your life as a pot-plant, its all good! I read the interview with Grant where they talk about their gender and how they were exploring things like cross-dressing as young as ten. And the whole interview felt very relaxed, and not at all like a sort of... coming out tale, for lack of a better phrase. Grant didn’t seem to be dictating (to me at least) that they wanted people to alter the way they talk about them. They were just discussing gender and new words for gender in the context of how times have changed. How they themself didn’t have words like gender fluid or non-binary when they were young, and that this is why things like the t slur ended up in the Invisibles. But I digress. Grant is now sixty years old, which means they’ve had roughly fifty years living their life as non-binary, even if they didn’t exactly have the words for it. Which says to me that they’re probably extremely comfortable with it, relaxed, and have no qualms or issues that tend to surface in young people. So... Why was my instinct reaction to changing my work anything less than joyful acceptance? I’ve asked myself this question over and over. I have been told I’m being ignorant. Have been told that as a cis person I have no comprehension of why pronouns are important. I spent yesterday evening crying to myself, when I was already sick in bed, and made quite the sorry sight. And the thing is, as a writer, I’ve spent the last two decades getting into other peoples mindsets in order to write a myriad of characters. And so far, people tell me I do this quite well. I have a degree in psychology. I am working towards a masters degree in psychology. I have done separate studies into counselling specifically. Understanding people is my thing. It’s what I do. So why then, do I not want to change the pronouns? In answer, I had to stop and think entirely selfishly. I had to look into myself and away from the all those voices telling me I don’t understand or that I’m ignorant, and question what made me feel uncomfortable. And the answer is quite simple. I write fanfiction, yes. But the characters I create are MINE. I do not write about Grant Morrison the comic book writer. I write about a character all my own, and slap the face of Grant onto it. I don’t read MCR fanfiction, or any fanfiction about real life people because it makes me uncomfortable, and recently I’ve been warring with myself about leaving the MCR category when it comes to writing, because for me... the disconnect between real people and my characters is wholly, utterly complete. If I could explain it simply - I view my characters (all of them) as OC’s. But for the sake of writing in the same category I have been for years, and thus keeping the readers I adore so much and the friends I have made - I use MCR or Grant or their wives as the actors and actresses to play the roles of my characters. My fanfiction is a movie in my head, and the people whose names and faces I borrow are my cast. So for me... to change my fiction every time something changes in the real world just does not compute in my head. If Gerard Way was to act in a film today, and announce tomorrow that he prefers she/her pronouns, the movie wouldn’t be re-filmed to accommodate. If Grant Morrison decided tomorrow that they would like to act in movies, I’m almost certain they wouldn’t insist on only being cast in non-binary roles. Equally, I have read fanfiction in the past that gender-swaps all members of MCR. I have read fanfiction that casts them as trans characters. I have read fiction where they are gay, straight, ace. I myself have written them as vampires, werewolves, mafia dons... For years, Gerard and Frank especially have talked about how frerard fanfiction makes them uncomfortable. Yet that has always been my main forte. I do not write it to be disrespectful, and it is my sincerest wish they never read it or have it mentioned to them. It is just fiction... it’s transformative work, and the morals are dubious I agree, which is why I still am considering leaving the MCR fandom for good. So... If I have been writing about two straight men and making them gay for years and years... If I have been writing Mikey (who we all know is a sweetie pie) as an evil character multiple times... If I have taken their straight wives and wrote them as lesbians... Then surely, surely, it doesn’t make sense for me to go back to the work I have written in the past and change it now for the sake of something happening in real life? Something that Grant themselves have not come out and made a statement about, and probably never will, because to them, it’s not a big deal. Or so it feels to me. In short (and I apologise again for the length of this answer), fanfiction to me has always been FICTION. I cannot stress this enough. I do not, and will not, factor the real world into it because the whole point is that it is a world of my own creation. If I decided to write a fic tomorrow that had Grant as a female presenting octopus no one would bat an eye. And to not change their pronouns is not meant as a statement or a slight, far from it. It is simply that those stories were written before the change, and were not about a non-binary character. And as someone who often writes erotic stories, is it my place to try and write sex scenes involving a non-binary character when, as so many have kindly informed me, I am ignorant in this matter? Especially when, in my eyes at least, writing someone as non-binary is not as easy as simply changing the pronouns and letting the story remain the same in every other aspect. I hope this makes sense and doesn’t make me come across as someone who is being cruel or stubborn for no reason. Or as someone who just doesn’t understand. If there is one thing I have learnt from talking to so many people yesterday, it is that there is no right or wrong answer, and the only true way to avoid hurting one another is to listen to each other and accept that we all feel very strongly about this, and sometimes for different reasons. Fanfiction shouldn’t be something that others can dictate. It was always about reading and writing what you enjoy, and if you dislike it, then hit the back button. That being said - The Devil’s Furnace and Domino will have the pronouns changed, out of respect to Ry who has requested as much and who owns the soul of those stories as much as I do. 💜

5 notes · View notes

curtashiism · 4 years

Text

Long rant/vent ahead

It’s hard, because I know I genuinely love biology. I love learning about anatomy and physiology, and I have an affinity for bio as a whole. But I don’t know that it’s really what I want to do, and I feel like I was never given the chance to fully explore what I actually wanted to do because of my mom’s manipulative behavior to me growing up.

When I was younger I wanted to do something with music, but my mom told me I wouldn’t be good enough. I didn’t have the talent my sister did at the cello, which was why they sunk so much money into her cello rental and lessons but wouldn’t get me any lessons.

My mom told me future was in academics and I never really questioned it. Her grandma had a premonition (my mom’s words, not mine) that I would go into the sciences. So my mom never let me consider anything else. She tried her best to shut any other ideas I had down. She never came to a single one of my track meets when I ran in 8th grade. I mean, I finished dead last in every race except the one time I finished second to last, but that’s not the point. I shouldn’t have had to be good to earn her involvement. But that’s how it was with her. She only cared when it was something I was good at- academics. She’d come to the awards ceremonies when I made honor roll, but never cared about my other interests.

So I settled on the medical field at some point- I thought a doctor or vet for a while but I’m not good enough at math, physics, or chem, so now I’m thinking public health.

Before I started college, I wanted to take a break from school, get a job, and figure things out. But my mom didn’t want that. She thought if I did that, I’d never go back to school, and we couldn’t have that now could we? So she did what she does- she manipulated the situation to get what she wanted to my detriment. It didn’t matter that I didn’t want loans. She said “we all go into debt, suck it up” and told me if I didn’t start the next term she would kick me out.

So I did. Then once I had the loans finalized, she told me she was never going to kick me out, she just wanted me to “get my life together.” Because clearly it’s not my right to make those decisions, it’s hers, and if I wasn’t ready to start college at 19 my life must have been falling apart.

So now here I am, entering my senior year of college at 26 years old, panicking because I need to start preparing for a Master’s program but I don’t FEEL ready at all and I’m not sure this is actually what I want to do. I like the arts. I want to learn more about them. I want to learn to play the violin, I want to see if I can act (I’m practicing voice acting and am loving it and my friends say I actually am not bad at it and I have a cute voice perfect for child characters), or maybe even try to write a play (I love theater and I love writing.) Hell, I think I’d be happier joining the Peace Corps or going to the Kalahari Desert to volunteer with the meerkat study project for a year. I’m not ready for grad school- but I feel like I HAVE TO do it.

But that’s the thing. I try so hard to get my mom to approve of my decisions for just ONCE in her life. But even when I do exactly what she wants it doesn’t happen. She wanted me to do the science stuff to begin with- but when I tell her there’s a couple of MPH programs down in NYC, I would just need to finally get my driver’s license and a car, she starts making me defend my decision. She asks all these questions that make it sound like I’m some kind of idiot for wanting to get a Master’s degree. And maybe I fucking am, but not for the reason she thinks.

I told her I was going to learn the violin and her reaction was to get mad that I asked if I could practice it in the apartment during my visit home. When it looked like I was going to get to study abroad in London, before COVID, she made it all about her and her letting go issues.

When I graduated with my Associate’s degree- I’m the only one in the immediate family to do so, by the way- my mom cried before my graduation. Because she was devastated it wasn’t my sister.

And I honestly don’t know why I still even try. I know she has four kids but only cares about one. She will NEVER care about me or actually be proud of me. Not if I get a Master’s degree, not if I become a doctor, not if I became a tapdancing polyglot brain surgeon who cures cancer on the moon. She isn’t capable of it. On top of that, she has no grasp on who I actually am as a person.

She has a twisted and distorted view of me where I am a manifestation of all the things she fears are true of herself. All the things she doesn’t want to be, she projects onto me. She calls me hateful and judgmental and mean because I tell her not to call me when she’s been drinking. One single, solitary boundary I request and that’s too much for her. She was jealous of me as an INFANT because my dad doted on me. You have no idea how many times she’s been in the middle of a bender and accused me and my dad of literal incest because we’re close. “You’re his second wife” “there’s some Mormon shit going on between you two!” She doesn’t know the first thing about me. She told all my relatives that I only was in the orchestra as a teen because I wanted to be like my sister, not because I actually liked to play.

I do not admire a single thing about my fucking sister. This is the same sister who conspired with my first boyfriend and got him to sexually abuse me. The same sister who got high on meth and fucking raped our little brother. The same sister who told me about this while she was blackout drunk, then licked my neck. The same sister whose behavior I told to my mom and got a response of “well to be fair I’ve fantasized about your neck too!” Oh but see, if my mom was to be believed, my fucking sister never did anything to hurt my little brother, no sir. He made it up for attention, and I “planted lies in his head because I wanted to prove an agenda about men being able to be raped by women.” Because she thinks I’m so evil I would use my little brother as a pawn for a social experiment just to hurt my sister.

I don’t admire anything about my sister. I barely even fucking feel sorry that she fell into sex trafficking and had the same thing done to her that she did to my little brother. I should be upset about it, but I just feel apathetic, especially since she got to see her abuser put behind bars while my little brother is still dragged out to visit her every time my folks (who he still lives with as an adult) decide to see her. She’s a shitty person. The world will be a better place when she fucking dies. She convinces everyone she meets that she’s a wonderful person because she tells them what a long journey she’s been on and how she’s working so hard to heal through her faith (conveniently leaving out the part where she victimized others as much as she was a victim herself). Bitch, you don’t get a cookie because you fucking went five years without sexually abusing your younger siblings. Jesus isn’t fucking proud of you. I’m certainly not.

But of course, since she’s the one my mom favors, she can do no wrong. My mom is no better than her in my eyes.

So that brings it back to, why the FUCK do I want her approval?

Why the fuck do I care?

She certainly doesn’t care about me. If all the above shit isn’t proof, the fact that she got drunk when I was 15 and said she wished she could kill me is. The fact that she gave me PTSD from all the shit she put me through is proof. The fact that she made me coming out as a lesbian all about her is proof. The fact that she would go on a hateful rant about trans people- even though she doesn’t know I am, she knows I care deeply about the issues which should be enough but some isn’t- is proof. The fact that she honestly can NOT remember what my birthday is and has to be reminded by my dad is proof. The fact that she once called me a bitch on my birthday, which she forgot was my birthday until my little brother reminded her, is proof. The fact that she tried to tear my dad and I apart because she was too insecure to handle my dad “choosing his kids over her” is proof. The fact that she put me in the position of having to let her scream and throw things at me to protect my younger brother, because the alternative was letting her hurt him instead, is proof. The fact that I self-harmed for nearly a decade because of her and only got clean when I moved 3,000 miles away (what a coincidence!) is proof.

She’s fucking sick and is never going to be anything approaching a good mother to me because she doesn’t see me as me, she just makes me the lightning rod for her anger whenever she gets pissed off. When she’s pissed off, I’m an emotional punching bag, and when she’s hurting I’m a substitute therapist who will do all the emotional heavy lifting for her because she fucking knows how to use my compassion and guilt complex against me.

She has reasons, in her head, for why I’m so awful and deserving of her anger, which it took me years to learn weren’t actually excuses because I was a CHILD and she had no right to hold shit against me. And I know the truth is that she’s never proud of me because she doesn’t actually want my success- especially not when my sister doesn’t have it. She treats me the best, the nicest, when I fail, because that’s what she wants for me, even if she pretends otherwise. She’s sick and she’s so determined to play victim for her whole fucking life that she will never NOT be sick this way.

And I’m even sicker than she is because I still try after all these years. The real definition of insanity is repeating the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result. I just keep getting my hopes up that one day, I will say the magic words that will make her actually be supportive. Like if I get a magical piece of paper to show her she’ll think I’m actually worth something, but she never will and I’m an idiot for hoping. If she hasn’t got it by now, she never will. My dad loves me for me, my brothers loves me for me, my grandma loves me for me, my aunts and uncles and cousins love me for me, my friends love me for me- it’s just my mom who can’t figure out that I’m worth more than what I can do for her.

Fuck her. I’m either going to go to grad school or I’m not, but whatever I do will be awesome. I might act or play the violin or write plays or I might study ethnomusicology, or who knows, maybe I will go through with this public health stuff. Either way I’ll be surrounded with people who actually see me for me and are capable of feeling joy at my accomplishments. Maybe I’ll stupidly keep trying to include her, but I’ll have others around me when she inevitably disappoints me yet again. And she can’t say the same because she drives everyone who might care about her away.

13 notes · View notes

mollymauk-teafleak · 4 years

Text

Help Wanted (chapter five)

Huge huge thanks as always to my betas @minky-for-short and @spiky-lesbian

Please leave a comment on Ao3 if you’re enjoying!

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

-----

Cad and Fjord deal with the fallout

-----

There was precisely one phone in the entirety of the blooming grove. Well, one phone that wasn’t secret anyway; Caduceus had long suspected that Clara had managed to get her hands on one and was keeping it stuffed under her pillow. The phone that wasn’t a secret was just outside of the family’s sprawling, listing cottage, a little ways off into the woods though not too deep in where the light started to fade. It was an old phone box, placed where one had no earthly right to be, far too overgrown with branches and moss to still be functional, far too ancient to have any connection to the modern phone service. But still, it worked.

And Caduceus knew if he called it, they would hear him and they would answer.

He’d sunk so much of his time, his gold and himself into the cafe that his apartment was rather spare by comparison. It was a studio, so small he banged his elbows and head constantly, a little kitchenette opening out onto a living space dominated by plant life, a bedroom only big enough for a bed that would actually accomodate all of him, a shower that he could only get to aim as high as his shoulders so he had to duck.

It often felt claustrophobic and Caduceus was feeling the full effects of it right now, sitting cross legged on his bed and trying to remember to breathe. One hand clutching his phone, the other hand stroking the crocheted comforter underneath him because it felt nice and his hands couldn’t sit still when he was anxious, they needed to be touching something, like he was expecting the whole world to tip suddenly and needed to hang on.

He knew the number, of course he did. When he was little, it was the only one he’d ever had to know, not that he’d need it. When would he be anywhere but in the grove itself? He was the good boy, the devoted son, the promised one. He would always be in the heart of it, watching over it all and keeping it safe, telling himself he was happy in his work but all the while straining his ears to hear that phone ringing, or the front gate creaking, signalling his family’s return. Or, at least, some sign that he hadn’t been completely forgotten.

That wasn’t fair. He had been happy in his task, tending the grove and the plants and animals that were it’s cells, never far from his god. It was just that he’d outgrown it. He’d changed. He’d done what everything in nature was supposed to do.

And that was where the trouble had begun.

Caduceus felt the full weight of that trouble press down on him as he held the phone in his hand and repeated the number again, over and over. Trouble he’d caused, trouble he’d cultivated and allowed to grow when he could have kept it inside himself.

He didn’t want to face it. He felt small and cowardly but he just didn’t. Whatever mad impulse had brought him here, sat on his bed at midnight when he really should have been asleep, was starting to fade.

But not enough. If there was anything he’d learned today, it was that time could slip through your fingers faster than you’d ever imagined. There was no time to indulge bad feelings and ignore hard decisions.

Before he could flinch, he typed in the numbers and held the phone to his ear.

The rings seemed to echo in his chest, buzzing through him until it was almost unbearable. He tried to count them and anchor himself but he couldn’t, it was like his skull was full of them, darting this way and that like angry, black flies.

“Caduceus?”

Everything stopped. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to make the words come out at first, his throat closed up so sudden and so tight, but then they did.

“Mama…”

“Oh Caduceus,” her voice was tight with emotion and sounded so tinny through the phone but it was her, her inherent calmness and power and confidence that had guided him through so much of his life, “My boy...I was so hoping you would call, every day I hoped…”

Cad felt his mouth twist in grief, “I’m sorry, Mama, I...I didn’t want to leave it the way I did…”

There had been no shouting, as he’d told Fjord, Clay’s didn’t yell or raise their voices. But there had been a cold and a distance that was just as devastating. And he’d had his fair share of blame for that.

“Neither did I, Caduceus,” his mother said, voice softening, “But please, my boy, it’s okay. Just tell me you’re alright….”

“I am okay, Mama,” Cad didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, of course that would be her first concern, “I promise, I’m okay.”

She exhaled, like she’d been waiting to hear those words for a long time, “I’m sorry, of course we love your letters but it’s just so good to hear it in your voice.”

Cad smiled, closing his eyes so he could picture her better. People thought he was tall but he had nothing on Constance Clay who was an oak made flesh, towering and strong and safe. The braids that framed her face were always a favourite target for his grabbing toddler hands and a model for his own when he grew, though he could never match her intricacy. She looked so much like him, more than his papa, more long than round, wiry. Caduceus had always hoped that one day he’d be as strong as she was, rather than feeling like he bent in every stiff breeze.

“It’s good to hear you too, Mama…”

There was a pause before she spoke again, “My boy, are you sure you’re alright?”

Really, he’d been a fool to think she wouldn’t notice. Her sharp purple eyes, the colour of new bloomed violets, didn’t miss anything and apparently neither did her ears. When he’d done something wrong- broken a plant pot and promptly fled or lured his brother outside in the rain then locked him out- Constance had always known without any need for investigation. When he was sad without really knowing why or he’d been angry at nothing or had one of those childhood bad moods brought on solely by tiredness, she had known why and explained to him patiently or else just pressed a cup of tea on him that somehow sorted him out.

“It’s just…” he sighed, wanting one of those cups of tea very badly right now, “It’s just been a hard day, Mama.”

That was an understatement. Since Fjord had made his doorstep announcement, the whole atmosphere had frosted, every interaction between them difficult and awkward and stiff. It was as if the past months where they’d laughed and talked and tangled their lives together had never happened, all of that growth trampled down. Both had breathed a sigh of relief when any customer had walked in and given them some relief from the gasping silence but that didn’t happen nearly enough. Far too much time having to make up tasks to keep the maximum amount of space between them so they could pretend the emotional distance that had been thrown up between them was there by choice. Afraid to look at each other, afraid to speak, feeling every tick of the clock like a blow. And as soon as the sign had flipped to closed, Cad didn’t think the cafe had ever been packed down so quick and in such horrible, awkward silence.

And tomorrow they’d need to do it all again. And then he’d likely never see Fjord again, certainly never the vulnerable, soft, hopeful young man that, yes he couldn’t lie, he’d lost his heart to.

For all the good that would do him.

“Some days are, my boy,” his mama said gently, “And some days aren’t. Those days will come back around again.”

Cad felt the tears break free from behind his eyelids and drip down his cheeks, catching in his fur, “I just...I thought I did everything right, Mama. I was so sure of it but I just ended up making it so much worse and now he’s in real danger. I thought he...I thought he wanted to be close to me but I was just being an idiot.”

There was a soft sigh at the other end of the line, like a breeze through tall grass, “There are some choices we can’t make for others, no matter how much we want to. You taught me that, my boy.”

“I...I did?”

“You did. I made a choice for you in my own head, we all did, and we never even asked if that was what you wanted,” Constance’s voice was soft, “And I’m very sorry for that, Caduceus.”

It was so strange to hear his own parent apologising to him, like he hadn’t quite heard her right, like it was a language he’d forgotten. But something deep inside him exhaled at those words.

“I’m sorry too,” he murmured, his voice thick with his tears, “For how I left, for...for it all, I guess. That this was the path I needed to go down.”

“Don’t apologise for that,” her voice was soft, not an admonishment, “That wasn’t your doing. And...well, I would have railed against anything that took my boy far from me, even if it came from our goddess' own lips. Just as I railed against what took me away from you for all those years. But again...some things we can’t change. Like we said.”

Cad sat back, leaning against the wall. He’d never considered that, that all the missions taking his family away from the grove and away from him, had sat unkindly with everyone.

“But I don’t know what to do, Mama,” he eventually sighed, “He’s slipping out of my reach and I still want to help him so badly but the more I help, the further away he seems to get.”

“The only thing you can do, my boy, is what we all have to learn to do, me included,” Constance replied, “We need to have faith that happiness and safety will find those we love, in the way that suits them best. We can’t force it on them or steer them towards it...but we can leave the light on for them. No matter what.”

Cad nodded slowly, seeing the wisdom in that. It wasn’t what he wanted to be told, of course, he wanted to be told that there were some magic words he could say to Fjord to make him suddenly stay and give him his heart and make everything perfect. But there was some peace in accepting that just wasn’t possible.

He felt his mother’s words slip under the heavy, dark weight in his chest and help him lift it just that little bit higher.

It would be so easy just to say the words, say he wanted to come home. To run back to the grove and hide away from the world that had hurt him so much and leave behind the world he loved so much. To go back to where his tasks were small and simple and made sense and he was never at risk.

But that wasn’t his path. That wasn’t growing.

“I am proud of you, Caduceus,” Constance murmured, “And I am sorry it took me so long to get here.”

“And I’m sorry it took me so long to call,” Caduceus managed a shaky smile, earning him his mother’s dry chuckle that he’d missed more than he’d realised.

“You could always come for a visit if you needed some space?” Constance hummed, hope in her voice, before she hastily added, “Only if you wanted to, of course. There’s no pressure.”

Those words sounded so strange in her voice that Cad had to laugh, “Okay, mama. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome...and I hope things work out with him, Caduceus. I really do.”

Cad’s smile turned wan, “No comment on me basically coming out to you then?”

“Oh, my boy, did you think I was blind?”

Cad laughed harder, wondering how his mama’s magic worked, how she’d gotten him to laugh so freely when he’d felt so broken just five minutes ago, when he knew the pain would come rushing back at him as soon as he was alone again, “I suppose…and it is the second time, I guess. Technically”

“Then I will tell you the same thing I told you when you came out as trans,” Constance murmured, “You are mine and I love the very bones of you. And nothing will change that.”

Caduceus folded his free arm around himself and imagined she was holding him, “I liked hearing it again…but I should go, mama. I’ll call soon.”

“Good,” Constance had a smile in her voice, “Sleep well, my boy, and have faith. I love you.”

“I love you too, mama…”

It was painful, when he pressed the button and the silence flooded in, just the buzz of the electricity in the wires, other conversations happening all over the city. There was still so much more to say, to his mama, to the rest of his family.

But he could see the light left on for him. And it helped so much.

Rather soon into their conversation, Cad had to ask Beau and Fjord to take it outside. It was getting too loud.

He watched them through the window, past the giant mushroom Jester had painted so long ago, saw their faces redden and contort with anger and frustration, their hands gesturing, Beau somehow managing to loom over him despite the significant height advantage and force him to have to push back. He couldn’t hear what they were saying through the glass but he could guess at it.

The Nein had been coming in dribs and drabs to say their goodbyes to Fjord all day and none had been pretty to watch. It was clear that none of their friends were pleased by the decisions he was making but they hid their anger and misgivings in genuine hugs and well wishes.

Beau was clearly not willing to do that.

She’d thrown back the door about an hour before closing, when there’d just been a few customers in line to get a coffee for their commute home, pointed at Fjord who was in the middle of putting fresh flowers on the tables and loudly asked him what the fuck he thought he was doing.

That was when Caduceus had asked them to step outside.

He did catch a few snatches of their exchange, as alarmed looking customers entered and left.

“You’re a fucking coward, ignoring my calls all day like I wasn’t going to come down here and confront you…”

“I don’t need your approval for every decision I make, Beau!”

“After everything Caduceus has done for you…”

“Where was all this last time I went offshore? Just because it’s with Avantika you have a problem?”

“FUCKING EXACTLY!”

Cad winced, trying to busy himself with the dishes, trying not to look like he was watching. But he did see when eventually Beau and Fjord made the same, eerily similar gesture of frustration and broke apart, Beau storming off down the street and Fjord stomping back into the cafe. His hands were shaking and he was still muttering under his breath as he went back to the flowers, somehow managing to set them out with such anger that Cad was afraid the pots would crack.

Cad wanted to call out to him. He wanted to hold him and let him cry and tell him everything was going to be okay, that the words and the wounds they’d made would fade and they’d be friends again.

But he didn’t. He just watched though the hatch as Fjord swallowed more anger and more shame and let it become part of himself.

The last few minutes of the work day ticked away and Cad realised that was it. No miracle had manifested, no sudden change of heart. Fjord wouldn’t be turning up at 6am just like he had been for the last months, making Cad’s day brighter just by walking through the door. It sank in which such horrible sharpness that he couldn’t believe something he’d already known could hurt him so much.

But he packed it away, put it on a shelf so he could take it down later and deal with it. All he needed to do now was be a friend to Fjord.

“I guess I’ll let you choose the music,” he said, coming out from behind the counter and approaching the speakers, “Seeing as it’s your last chance. Anything but that one from the other day.”

Fjord gave a strained smile, “Rap is poetry, man. You just don’t get it.”

“Oh, I agree that rap is poetry,” Cad raised an eyebrow, “But that wasn’t rap you put on. It was someone having a seizure into a microphone.”

That got him a rough laugh, “Fine, not that. Just let your playlist run...I, um, I actually like everything you’ve got on there. I’ve been listening to a lot of it outside of here. Learning some of it in the guitar too, actually.”

Cad opened his mouth to gently joke that he’d have to play him something, maybe do an open mic at the cafe one weekend, before he realised that would never happen. So he just weakly said, “That’s great.”

The days were getting longer and warmer so the sunsets were getting bigger. The whole place seemed flooded with an orange glow, the sky’s fire bleeding in through the windows and making everything seem so otherworldly. But still, in this strange other world, they went about their usual jobs- setting the chairs on the tables after wiping them down, sweeping away the crumbs to vacuum up, watering the plants and moving them around- like things weren‘t different. Like all days after would be the same.

They talked. Haltingly at first, awkwardly, but then something clicked and before long they were laughing over small things like they’d always done, Cad talked to his plants and Fjord whistled while he worked, being blissfully silly, sharing their tiredness and their sense of jobs well done. As if they’d both realised they needed this.

And too soon, it was over. There were no more tasks left, the day had ended under them and left them floundering. They’d stretched it out as much as they could, suddenly deciding without a single word needing to be exchanged that the tea boxes needed dusting and the kettle needed deliming and Helga needed a polish.

It was dark by the time they finished, their beautiful golden moment lost to a cool, purple night and the two of them stood, looking at each other by the door and waiting to see what would happen next.

“Well…” Fjord cleared his throat, untying his apron and folding it up, “I guess I should give you this back.”

“Oh no,” Cad shook his head, “Please keep it. I made it for you.”

Fjord’s cheeks darkened, “Thanks...I don’t know what use I’d have for it on a ship but thanks…”

“Well maybe this will give you an excuse,” Caduceus pulled a box out from behind his back, “I made you a cherry and strawberry pie. And I wrote the recipe on the inside of the box so you could make some of your own. I thought maybe when you were in port you coud treat yourself?”

Fjord chuckled, taking the box, “Thanks Caddy. That’s real nice. I can’t believe you remembered my favourite thing…”

Cad fought to keep his smile on his face at the fact that Fjord didn’t even think himself worthy of a small amount of his memory, “Of course I remembered. You’re my friend, Fjord.”

He bit his lip, eyes sliding down like he couldn’t bear the weight of that, quickly continuing, “It’s gonna be real hard avoiding the temptation to just eat the whole thing on the bus ride back.”

Cad frowned, “The bus?”

Fjord blinked, like he didn’t see why that was worth picking up on, “Oh yes, um, Avantika is out in town getting things for the move and she can’t swing by, it’s no trouble getting the bus home. It's kind of long but I like it, I listen to podcasts and stuff...”

Cad sighed, ears drooping, “Fjord, please let me drive you home. Please. It’s so late.”

“Cad, I can’t let you do that, it’s so far out of your way…”

“Fjord, I want to do this for you,” Cad spoke slowly, carefully, trying so hard not to say more than he wanted to, “You’re my friend and it’s late and cold and I want to give you a ride home. Please?”

Fjord seemed to flounder for a moment but then, thank god, he nodded, “As long as you really don’t mind…”

“Not at all,” Cad insisted, smiling gently, “Thank you.”

Cad’s car was something of an engineering marvel, exclusively because it was still running. He’d had it since the grove, finding the shell of it in the forest and slowly acquiring the pieces he needed to get it running again, fixing it up to run on biofuel. You could find most anything in amongst the trees, if you looked hard enough. There was still fungus growing in the glove compartment and branches in the front grate that he couldn’t take out because he was pretty sure they were part of the engine now but it was enough to get him from work and back.

The hideous shade of electric purple had been his own choice.

Fjord looked alarmed when he saw it, “Mercy…”

“It still runs,” Cad insisted, moving into the driver's seat, “Just some soil on the floor, that’s all. Oh, you’ll need to move the bee bucket, just toss it in the back.”

“The...bee bucket?” Fjord said uncertainty, holding the bright yellow bucket in his hands, “Why is it a bee bucket? The colour?”

“Oh, um, no,” Cad fumbled for his keys, “Y’know Patsy, the sweet old lady who comes in? She had a group of bees make a hive in her wall and she was going to call the exterminator but I asked her if I could take them instead. I took them home in that bucket.”

“Alright then,” Fjord spoke like he was putting a definite end to that conversation, tossing it into the back seat.

Cad laughed, putting the key in the engine as soon as Fjord was sat down, pulling them out of the lot in a puff of acrid smoke.

“You know, Caddy,” Fjord looked over at him, “You are one of the strangest and sweetest people I’ve ever met.”

Cad kept his eyes firmly forward, though he didn’t think he could fully hide how much the sudden tenderness surprised him. Or how much it pleased him.

Fjord gave him directions in between humming the last song they’d listened to as the radio in the car didn’t work. The more directions came, the lower and more lost his voice seemed to get, like the buoyancy and brightness Cad knew him for was leeching away the closer they got. Cad’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. Did this happen every time? The Fjord he knew and, yes, loved, shrinking down and hiding himself inch by inch as he drew closer to home?

He wasn’t sure how much more he could take.

Eventually, Fjord mumbled, “Um, yeah, you can just pull up on the corner. This is plenty close.”

Cad didn’t argue as he pulled over. He didn’t want to know what kind of unspoken, unspeakable rules Fjord might break if he was seen getting out of a friend’s car.

The seconds ticked by, plenty of chances to get out of the car but Fjord didn’t move. Cad looked over and saw his eyes fixed forward, looking off into the darkness punched through by the streetlights though it was clear that wasn’t what his mind was seeing. And he looked so lost.

Cad’s throat tightened. Leave the light on. That’s all you can do.

“Fjord…” he murmured, daring the slightest lean forward into the space between them.

He looked like some kind of god in this light, barely visible, just his edges outlined in the gold of the halogen lamps standing sentinel. A lost and lonely god, uncertainty etched onto his face, a broken statue put back together with gold. He was so, so beautiful.

And then there was a breeze. The windows were rolled up, they were idling on an empty city street. But there was a breeze nonetheless, scented like the deepest depths of the grove, and it passed between them as undeniable as their own names.

“My last ship sank,” Fjord murmured, voice so small it was hard to hear, “I’ve never...I’ve never told anyone. But the reason I came home was because it sank. I nearly died choking on black seawater, watching the men I’d lived with for years dying around me and the only home I’d ever known shattering into a million pieces.”

Cad’s jaw fell open, his eyes wide, “Oh Fjord…”

Fjord kept speaking, like he couldn’t stop, like blood coming up from an old wound reopened, “I washed up somewhere near Port Dumali, some fishermen dragged me out of the shallows. I had no business being alive but...I was. I hitched a ride to the port and I was looking for a ship home, back to the city, but as soon as I had nothing but a deck between me and the sea again, I...I threw up. I shook. I cried. I just couldn’t. I took a coach home, slept in bus stations, found my way back. And I lied to everyone about it, saying I’d just outlived my usefulness on the Tide’s Breath.”

“Why lie?” Cad breathed, still stunned.

“Because how could I admit what had happened?” Fjord’s voice became fragile and thin, “Vandran, my captain, was gone but I could hear his voice in my head telling me I had to be strong, that I couldn’t show weakness. That I had to be a man. How could I tell the ghost of the only father I’d ever known that I couldn’t even set foot on a fucking ship?”

“Oh Fjord…” Cad murmured.

“And...well, you’ve seen Avantika,” Fjord’s mouth twisted, “Imagine what she would have said. What she’d still say, if I walked in there and told her right now.”

Cad couldn’t answer that, he couldn’t say it out loud but the truth was there in the air between them.

“And now she wants me to go back out there with her. And I’m so scared. I always have been, I’ve just been so fucking scared my whole life and I felt like I could paint over it with Vandran, with Avantika and eventually I’d forget it was there but now I can feel it and I can’t breathe with the weight of it and I don’t know why I’m like this…” Fjord was sobbing now, his shoulders shaking, “Why am I like this? Why am I so fucking broken?”

Cad reached over and fastened his hand on Fjord’s shoulder, holding him fast like an anchor in the sand, “Fjord, breathe. All you have to do right now is breathe. Please?”

It took a few moments but his chest began to rise and fall in some kind of rhythm. Cad nodded, chanting him in and out until he wrestled back some kind of control.

“Fjord, there is...so much pain in you, more than I realised and we don’t have to face it all right now,” Cad said, “But I need you to hear that you aren’t broken. Being scared, feeling vulnerable, that doesn’t make you broken. Someone’s given you a list of things and told them you have to be all of them to be worth anything but they were wrong. They were so wrong.”

Fjord looked at him, like all that was keeping him grounded was Cad’s hand on his shoulder, “But...if I get rid of all of that, what do I have left?”

“Someone who makes other people laugh,” Cad replied without hesitation, voice strong and sure in the way he’d always hoped it would one day, “Someone with a wonderful, infectious smile. Someone who's kind by default and seeks to help others and lead them and find a way to make things better for them. Someone strong for his own reasons, by his own measure. Someone incredibly special to a lot of people, including me.”

Fjord had shrunk away from every compliment and kind word Cad had given him but this time he didn’t. This time he looked for a way in.

“Cad…”

“Fjord,” he answered, saying it clearly, honestly, hearing the value in it, “You might now believe in yourself right now and I don’t blame you. But I believe in you. Can that be enough, until we can sort out the first part?”

“But what do I do tomorrow? Fuck, what do I do ten seconds from now, I don’t know…”

Cad gave his shoulder a squeeze, “Whatever you think is right. Remember what I said, change is always possible. It’s never too late to find your own happiness.”

Something helped him remember and he reached into his pocket, pulling out the talisman from just three days before. Had he really left it in his pocket? He couldn’t say but it didn’t matter. He pressed it into Fjord’s palm.

“She will forgive you, Fjord, if you’d like her to. But I think what’s more important is that you forgive yourself.”

Fjord held the stone tight but he didn’t take his eyes from Cad. And slowly, slightly, he nodded.

Cad felt hope and relief explode in his chest. That was all he needed, just the knowledge that Fjord had at least heard him, that he’d seen the light left for him.

And then he did something Cad hadn’t even dared hope for.

He leaned in and kissed him.

At first he was too shocked to do anything, muscles going stiff, eyes widening. And then, feeling guilty, feeling selfish, feeling euphorically happy, he kissed Fjord back, lowering his ears and tilting his head, eyes closing softly.

It was the sweetest heartbeat and a half of his life.

That was how long it took for Fjord to jerk away like he’d been punched in the stomach, pressing himself against the door of the car. He looked horrified.

“Fjord?” Cad gasped out, in freefall.

“I’m sorry…” he managed to choke out before he wrenched the door open and ran out, like he was fleeing for his life.

He didn’t look back.

#fjorclay #teahaw #caduceus clay #trans caduceus #fjord #cr: caduceus #cr: fjord #critical role #cr fic #modern au #coffee shop au #toxic relationships #internalised homophobia

26 notes · View notes

alolanrain · 4 years

Text

Do you like someone? No.

“Who do you like, Ash?” Misty asked one night. The original gang had set up their small camp, resting before going after Ash’s fourth gym badge.

Ash looked up from grooming Pikachu, who for once wasn’t whining like Ash was ripping out its fur in clumps, glancing at Misty through his eyelashes. The clinking of metal against metal in the small distance means dinner isn’t done yet so Ash can’t escape from her question.

“No one.” He answered easily. Moving to drop the fur brush and pick up a fine tooth comb for Pikachu's tail, the mouse Pokémon actually started purring at the sight of black plastic. Ash doesn’t look back up at Misty, even though he heard her disappointed sigh and the discord chime of Brock setting down the metal spoon with slightly more force than necessary.

Because Ash doesn’t like anyone, he never really needed to. It’s not something he should be worried about anything either, he’s only ten. It’s not like Ash doesn’t have more important things on his mind like when Team Rocket is going to surge up or when the next Godly encounter is. Ash is only ten years old, he’s fine with just focusing on his Pokémon and gym battles for now.

-----

“Do you have a special someone, Ash?” Max asked, popping up besides the older trainer who was filling his dish with the amazing smelling stew Brock made for lunch. “Like someone back home in Kanto?”

“Max!” Misty hissed, shoulders hunching as she tried to reach for her brother around the table to drag Max back to his spot next to her.

Ash lifted his eyes to where Brock was walking over after double checking that everything was off and no wild Pokémon was going to steal any leftovers in the closed pots. Brock lifted an eyebrow, his eyes held a curious glint to them.

He ducked his head back down, shoveling another spoon full before swallowing and facing Max. “No.” Was Ash’s slow response. He doesn’t really like-like anybody right now, and no one would be waiting for him back in Kanto. “I don’t like anyone and no one is waiting for me back home.”

The curious glint in Brock's eyes died down as he sat next to the raven haired teen. His hand coming out on reflex to mess up Ash’s hair, the shorter complained slightly before going back to his meal and Brock scooping some of his own out of the large pot on the table.

Max felt his older sister sag against him a little, glancing up he didn’t comment on the sour look on Mays face and turned back to his own delicious lunch with a quiet thanks to Brock.

——

“So…” Dawn drawled, rolling over on the hotel bed so she could look at Ash upside down, “anyone special in your life, Ash?” She immediately giggled when Pikachu poked her bare side with the edge of its tail.

Ash sighed and set down his phone on the coffee table next to the pair of chairs he’s sitting in and the large window. He chose to glare out the window a little bit, looking at all of the pretty lights shine and blink in the twin they’ve stopped in. If only Brock were here instead of going out to a strip club.

“No,” was Ash’s answer, dropping his head sideways onto his arm that’s thrown over the chairs back, “nobody has gained my interest yet.” To be honest with himself, Ash is a little bit worried. He’s fourteen now and not a single person has caught his eyes; female, male, or any other gender. None, absolutely nada. Is there something wrong with him?

“What about Zoey?” Dawn asked, rolling back over and eyeing the way Ash’s league suite made weird waves over Ash’s stomach. If only she could alter the suite, Ash would look ten times more better than whatever Champion Lance chose for Ash.

Groaning, Ash stood up. Bringing his arms above his head to stretch. “She’s a lesbian, Dawn.” He did a mock voice of the old lady from that one vine Dawn really liked to play when she’s bored.

Said girl immediately pushed her upper half up before twisting to look at Ash, all doe eyes and small smiles. “She is?”

“Room 103, second floor down the left side of the hallway.” Ash relayed like a robot. It wasn’t his fault that he was actually texting the same red head when Dawn asked him who he liked.

Dawn was jumping off the bed and pulling her shirt down before rounding said bed to lung at Ash. She pecked his cheek once he caught her before darting off and out the room. Leaving Ash and Pikachu alone in her wake.

——

“Do you fancy anyone, Ash?” Cilan asked one sunny day. The trio were out in the woods, stopping for lunch before continuing on to Ash’s fifth gym battle.

They had eaten and were now chilling by the small lake that was nearby. Pikachu was silently dozing in the sun next to Ash, the humans cap laying on the Pokémon’s head to block out the sunlight.

Ash’s face scrunched up in consideration before a frown marred his lips. “No,” he’s tone sounded dull to his ears as the same answer for the past sixteen years passed his lips. “No I don’t.”

Iris scoffed, sitting up on the other side of Cilan. “What a little kid!” She crowed our, ignoring Cilans weak glare, “only little kids don’t get crushes.” Iris declared. All the while eyeing Ash.

Said teen shrugged his shoulders, ignoring Iris’s petty attempt for a silly argument and the need to throttle her for the ‘kid’ comment. Ash’s hand that wasn’t supporting him came out to gently run his fingers over Pikachus fur, the Pokémon was so asleep it didn’t even twitch at the touch.

Scoffing at the lack of response, Iris later back down with a huff and rolling over to look away from both boys.

Cilan then took over and started to wax poet about why daring can be so good for the soul, or something.

Ash really didn’t care, so he kept silent and let his traveling partners do their own thing.

——

“Hey Ash!” Bonnie yelled suddenly. Wrenching herself away from Diantha’s side and bounding over the sand easily to reach the nineteen year old trainer.

“Ye-oof!” Ash huffed as he caught the excited little girl suddenly. “Yeah Bonni?” He croaked out, morning his Long Island that was now spilt into the sand. He felt a hand rest against his shoulders, turning back Ash met Professor Sycamore's knowing look as the man had bent down to grab the falling glass.

“Do you like anyone?” She yelled happily, pointedly glancing back at Serena who was sitting next to Miette and Alain. The contest girl had frozen up with an angered look directed at Bonnie.

Ash's smile felt like plastic, he was hoping he would be able to dodge the question but Aah should have guessed it would come up either way with Bonnie in the group. “Why,” Ash pauses, scooping the giggling girl up more into his arms, “I like everyone here! They are all my friends!” Ash was at least happy that he could direct the answer to something more friendly, he doesn’t think he would be able to deal with a sulking Serena for the rest of their travels.

Bonnie groaned in annoyance before requesting to be put down, Ash doing just that she then farted back over to Diantha who happily allowed the little girl to climb back up into the Champions hammock.

Ash pointedly ignored several staring eyes, going back over to the set up beach bar where Professor Sycamore and Malva are making another batch of Long Islands.

——

“Hey Ash,” Mallow greeted, planting herself right next to Professor Kukui’s Teacher Assistant. Said Teacher Assistant was sprawled out over a picnic blanket, an extra one he brought in case the larger one their teacher brought couldn’t hold all his students.

She waved to a group of girls she was familiar with as she waited for Ash to acknowledge Her. Ash was pretty determined to not do anything for this festival, choosing to lay down the extra blanket a little ways from all the festivals festivities. Unlucky for the twenty year old, it just made everyone that he knew on Melemele to slowly transfer their stuff next to him.

Sighing as Ash couldn’t ignore Mallow for too long before the young girl would lay herself over Ash’s back and whine extra loudly that he was ignoring her, he wiggles his arms under his chest so Ash could push up his upper half off the blanket.

“Yes, Mallow?” He grumbled. Ash also ignored the soft cries of resistance from Pikachu, who’s large head had fallen off of Ash’s shoulders.

“Do you like anyone?” Her innocent smile couldn’t cover her teasing smirk that was thrown over her shoulders.

From Ash’s position he could see Gladion, Hau, and Kiawe all freeze up at the green haired girls question. Dammit, Ash was hoping that he wouldn’t have to break hearts in Alola.

“No.” Aah was forceful in his answer. Starting it clearly with a final tone to Mallow, because if he didn’t surely Mallow would get Lana and Lillie into bothering him as well.

He ignored the broken looks of Gladion and Hau, and Ash didn’t even see Kaiwe’s shoulders slumping. Ash slid back down so his chest could press against the warm blanket with a half mumbled goodbye to Mallow, only smiling at Pikachu's soft cry of victory before the mouse Pokémon laid its head back into Ash’s upper back.

——

“Do you like anyone?” Gou was blunt with his question. Scorbunny next to Gou snuggled deeper into the over plushed and soft blankets of the hotel bed. The young’s teen was almost regretting letting Ash use him as his ‘plus one’ to a Gala in Galar.

The question just popped into Gou’s mind, after all Ash didn’t really do a lot at the Gala besides talk to people and dance with a few other higher up members like the Kalosian Champion Alain and the new Regional Professor Garrison Oak. All of which were just friends and old rivals of Ash when he was younger.

The twenty three year old Alola and Orange Isle Champion poke his head out of the extended bathroom. “Nope!” Was Ash’s answer before his head disappeared into the bathroom. Only to pop back out with a slight frown and eyes glistening with a little worry. “Nobody at the Gala assumes you and me were dating, if that’s what the question is referring to. You're too young for me and everyone knows I’m not into dating.”

Gou’s shoulders relaxed a little, to be honest he was worried about that. But it seemed it was all okay now. “Alright.” Gou mumbled back, feeling the lack of sleep the past few days fully hitting him now.

Chuckling, Ash slipped out of the bathroom. Trotting over in a pair of pj pants and a fully white robe draped over his shoulders. The young adult reached for the covered and Scorbunny, lifting the tiny Pokémon up Ash places Scorbunny on Gou’s chest before covering both of them with the hotel blanket.

“Get some sleep,” Ash stated quietly, one hand coming up to cup Gou’s cheek before carding through his raven hair once, “we’re leaving early tomorrow to head back to Kanto.” Ash pulled back before whispering good night to both Scorbunny and Gou.

Gou whispered goodnight back as he felt the bed dip and Pikachus bulking frame came into view before curling into the young researchers side

128 notes · View notes