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imagining-in-the-margins · 3 years

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Here to Misbehave (Finale | S.R.)

Summary: It’s Halloween, and there are a lot of things on Spencer’s mind.

A/N: Here it is, everyone: the end of the story. Thank you so much to everyone who’s read this far. I greatly appreciate all of you, and I hope you enjoy it! Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Fluff/Smut (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Penetrative sex, light D/s, mostly fluff! Word Count: 7.5k

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Autumn has widely been considered the season of change. It is an understandable characterization; from the shifting hues of the leaves to the wildly fluctuating temperatures, few things stayed consistent in the fall. Perhaps that’s why someone who loathes change, someone like me, finds the season so thrilling.

It’s like the Earth and the Sun made a pact to make changes more predictable in their own unique, chaotic way. The breeze becomes biting and the days become shorter, but for these downfalls, we are granted a beauty and calmness that can’t be rivaled by any other season.

But she wasn’t a season, and when it came to my attention and appreciation, there were few choices that were easier to make.

“Spencer. You’ve got to be kidding me.”

(Y/n)’s face was half covered by the cup she held tightly with both hands, but I could picture the hidden expression perfectly, regardless.

“What? We don’t have to agree on everything.”

The truce was received poorly, her response a heavy scoff and a shake of her head. I tried to follow along with her suddenly heated words but couldn’t contain the stars in my eyes that often accompanied my daydreams. If she did notice, she stubbornly ignored the adoration to continue, “I understand you’re a genius or whatever, but I think your opinions on cider and cocoa are... wrong. They are wrong.”

It was my turn to feign displeasure (I hoped hers wasn’t real, anyway), clutching tighter to my own drink that I found myself defending on a park bench with dozens of strangers as an audience.

“An opinion can’t be wrong!” I chirped, only hating the way my voice jumped a little bit. After all, it was hard to hate it when it made her giggle. But despite how much sweeter the liquid seemed when I drank it in the presence of her smile, I also knew that she wouldn’t appreciate my immediate agreement. So, I pushed back just a little, “It can be misguided or ignorant but not outright wrong.”

“Unless it’s yours, on this topic,” she shot back without hesitation.

I tried to flash her a pout, hoping that maybe it would work for me like it did for her. It did not. Her eyebrows shot up and her jaw dropped open with another laugh, and I decided that I preferred that outcome, anyway. The longer my bottom lip stuck out, the wider her smile got. I waited to stop until her eyes closed and turned away, just long enough for me to let the full force of my affection show before she noticed.

She saw it, anyway, in the form of a similar smile spread over my face when I softly admitted, “Fine. You’re right.”

“Oh, I know.”

Her tongue peeked between her lips, and I found myself thinking less of cider and cocoa and more about how unbelievably lucky I was to find someone that I never felt the need to prove anything to. A person that didn’t care if I held all the answers.

I might’ve continued down that sappy train of thought, but it was hard to do while she had hoisted herself halfway over the table to try and grab hold of my cup right as I went to drink from it. Of course, she had failed to take into account just how big the table was, and just how close I was willing to come to falling before I let her drink from my cup right after she’d criticized my preference of fall flavors.

For a second, I really thought she might climb onto the table to win, but the judgmental looks from the parents in the park must have beaten her desire to win. As forlorn as humanly possible, she fell back into her seat with a loud “Hmph!” which really only managed to elicit an equally immature giggle from me.

“Shut up,” she laughed before shoving my paper plate further into my chest, “And eat your stupid pie.”

All I could think as she grabbed my fork and stabbed the middle of the piece to try to lift the entire thing at once, was that I was right about one thing: Autumn, in all its vitality and beauty, could still never compare to her.

That thought persisted through the pumpkin patch, growing in intensity as she skipped through the vine-laden path like a regular fall fairy. It was much easier to get lost in her there, crouched and inspecting foliage. Her arguments regarding gourds were much less spirited, with her watching me wide-eyed and curious as I explained the stages of pumpkin growth and all the different uses for the fruit.

I still let her make the final choices, opting to analyze her selections and tease her for them later, instead. That was the plan, anyway, to continue the competitiveness lest she gets bored with me before the day was over. When she walked past me holding open the passenger side door, I thought it might’ve already happened.

But then she just placed the pumpkin into my hands so she could open the back door. Before I could even move, she carefully removed it from my arms again and placed it in the seat.

“What are you doing?” I said through a very amused chuckle.

She was decidedly not entertained by my confusion, stopping to turn to me with a bored, frustrated expression. “I’m buckling him in,” she explained slowly, like I might need the help. Then, to add insult to silly injury, she added, “Duh.”

I was too distracted by the details to tackle the absurdity of it all.

“Him? It’s a boy pumpkin?”

“Obviously. Look at him,” she snorted, finally clicking the seatbelt in before tenderly petting the top of the lucky little gourd. Once she was convinced it would be as safe as she could make it, she allowed me to begin to escort her into her proper seat.

“You know it’s safer on the floor, right?” I asked before she’d slipped past me. I wrapped an arm around her, pulling her away from the car so I could enjoy the warmth of her before it was replaced with the dry air of the engine.

“How dare you,” she balked with an open mouth that was just begging to be kissed. By the time I got close enough to try, though, her hand fervently shoved my cheek away. I tried to laugh, but she used the same hand to cover the noise, trying and failing to convince me she was being serious.

“Why don’t you just hold him?” I mumbled against her palm.

That was enough for her to abandon my embrace altogether. With a scoff and a roll of her eyes, she pried my arms off of her and finally made her way to my passenger seat. I didn’t fight her too hard, even taking the time to shut her door like my mother always insisted.

The mercy was not returned, with her eyes narrowed into a playful disbelieving glare that I hadn’t seen in some time. My mind was brought back to the first time she ever let me know she was jealous, bickering over blondes and preferences while she sat in the very same place. And, just as before, she was still wearing the same raggedy old sweatshirt of mine.

“If this is any indication of how you’ll be with a human baby, I have dramatically overestimated your competence,” she droned, obviously unaffected by the stars that appeared in my eyes every time I looked at her.

“The one and only time you’ll ever be able to say those words. I hope you enjoyed it,” I joked. A funny enough joke that she couldn’t help but smile through her facade.

“Don’t worry,” she chuckled, “I did.”

The day could have ended there, and it would have been enough. Honestly, I couldn’t think of a single thing that wouldn’t be better with her there. In a way, I think we were trying to prolong the high of ‘hooky,’ finding even the faintest interest in an activity as enough of an excuse for a detour.

… Which was probably how we found ourselves in our third park of the day. After all, I loved any autumnal vision, so how could I decline an opportunity to let them serve as a backdrop for watching her? And that was an accurate description of how I spent the day. It might sound boring, and if it were anyone else, it probably would have been. But no matter how often I saw her, I found myself learning new things about her every single time. Each freckle and scar became a part of the high-definition collection of memories that I would never let myself forget. The most beautiful images that kept me sane in the face of evil and filth.

“Do you see that?”

For a moment, I thought she might have read my mind. But then I realized that her eyes were still fixed forward, stuck on the horizon ahead of us.

“See what?”

“That,” she pointed, “Right there.”

My eyes followed the line, finding nothing but an area of carefully manicured, yellow grass and trees already set to rest for the season. It must have been clear to her that I was lost, because her pointing became more animated and her voice rose as she shouted, “Right there!”

“The giant pile of leaves?”

“Uh-huh.”

Then, in all of my obliviousness, I just sort of stared. Even when her hand grew tighter around mine and her feet started to move faster, I didn’t put two and two together until it was too late.

“What about— No! (Y/n)!” I shouted, cutting off my own train of thought and only barely letting go of her in time to watch her jump straight into the collection of fallen foliage that some poor landscaper had obviously worked hard to gather.

I have to believe that even if that unlucky, underappreciated individual saw what she’d done to their hours of work, that they would forgive her. It was hard to feel anything but joy at the sounds that came from the pile. Yet I approached her cautiously, with both hands in my pockets to avoid the urge to throw myself into danger with her.

“You’re a terror,” I said, settling for a crouched position in front of her. Still able to see her but far enough from her grasp that she had to crawl through a wall of leaves to come nose to nose with me. “This is literally the scariest thing you’ve done all season.”

“Come on in, the water’s fine,” she purred.

As enticing as the offer was, my mind was too preoccupied with statistics of spider and snake bites, not to mention the possibility of ticks still scouring the landscape for any last second hosts. The answer was easy.

“Absolutely not.”

With another exhale of pure displeasure, she threw her body back into the leaves, burying herself into a mess of yellows and reds that somehow only made her look even more beautiful. The chaotic scene matched her energy well, and the harm she was doing was minimal considering I was absolutely going to search every inch of skin for any marks later.

The only thing that was more appealing to me than watching her make an absolute fool out of herself in a pile of leaves was the intense urge to tease her about it. So, taking a regrettable seat on the grass, I sighed, “I think I’m going to have to arrest you for trespassing.”

There was a loud gasp from the center of the pile, followed by a scuffle of flailing limbs among the foliage.

“You don’t own this leaf pile! I do! I am queen of the leaf pile!” she screeched.

“Alright Princess,” I subtly corrected, “whatever you say.”

As promised, I didn’t put up a fight. Even when she finally got a hold of my hands and dragged me into the madness with her. I followed her no matter what nonsense she demanded, just as she had with me so many times. Granted, my desires weren’t nearly as dangerous or strange. They were pretty much just a collection of foreign films and reading that always lulled her to sleep.

But that day there was no sign of her energy waning. The early sun faded and we kept going. I’m not sure how, but she managed to enjoy herself in the D.C. landscape of bars and blaring car horns despite not being able to indulge in anything herself. Although she did half-heartedly attempt to trick me into buying her drinks in several different establishments, I think she was honestly proud that I avoided the drinks altogether. It was a nice reminder that sobriety could be something enjoyed between the two of us, regardless of the environment. However, we didn’t let that stop us from jumping into a crowd of very drunk women who had insisted we join their haunted tour of the city.

“Are you scared?” she whispered into my ear. The feeling of her warm breath against my skin caused a shiver to run down my spine, ruining any credibility I had in my response.

“No. Why would I be scared? It’s just history.”

“Are you sure?” she asked again.

“Yes!” I insisted with the worst possible timing. Because just as soon as the word had left my lips, I felt the distinct sensation of fingers running down my neck and arm opposite to her. I was so convinced that’s what it was that I even spun around with a yelp, crashing into at least three different people just to find a very startled woman with the worst hung scarf I’d ever seen.

(Y/n) had already put two and two together and was lost in an absolute fit of laughter. There were already tears forming in the corners of her eyes as she doubled over, barely able to stand through it all. Because there I was, her 31-year-old FBI agent boyfriend, screaming over a scarf.

“Laugh it up,” I droned. And she did. She kept laughing through any attempts at a response, and after the initial embarrassment wore off, I couldn’t help but join her.

“I hope you know you chose me. You chose this man!” I shouted, gesturing to the people around us who had already forgotten about our shenanigans, “And everyone knows it!”

“I’m sorry I can’t—” she wheezed, pausing to take a necessary breath that was all lost with another bunch of giggles “—You’re a fucking FBI Agent!”

“Well I can’t shoot a ghost, can I?” I mumbled through the hit to my ego. But any suffering was quickly dealt with as she threw dramatic arms around my waist, pulling me close and protecting me from any other errant scarves that might show up.

“I love you so much,” she said.

“I’m glad you’re having fun,” I returned with a quick kiss on her forehead. And even if I implied otherwise, I think she knew that I was having just as good of a time as she was. In fact, it was one of the most relaxing days of my life, which was saying something, considering how much walking was involved.

But no matter how tired we both were, I still had one last place to take her. It took her a while to figure out why the route felt so familiar, but I wasn’t ready to ruin the surprise. I wanted to watch the realization dawn on her. She didn’t disappoint.

“The Mayflower?” she asked with a bit of a bashful laugh before looking up at me through narrowed eyes, “Feeling nostalgic, Dr. Reid?”

“Yeah, a little bit. Thought it was more romantic than the club,” I offered, trying to shrug off the nervous butterflies that burst through my stomach. “Not by much, mind you.”

Although I got the feeling that she didn’t know, or perhaps just didn’t remember, that wonderful night from almost a year ago was one of the most important days of my life. I knew it then, too. From the second I set my eyes on her from my pitiful place against the bar, I knew that she would ruin me.

“Nothing screams high end romance like an alley and a little light law breaking,” she sighed. I almost missed it, too preoccupied with the way her arm tugged me tighter so she could rest her head against my shoulder.

“I can take you home if you’d rather.”

“Hmmm. Depends,” she hummed. Then, turning her head up to me with that playful look that always turned me to putty in her hands, she purred, “How much longer do you think you can wait before you just have to have me?”

I sucked in a sharp, sarcastic breath, eyeing her just long enough for her to start to fume, I let out all the air with a defeated sigh, “I guess we’re staying.”

That serene sort of teasing continued past the reception desk and all the way up the elevator. If there were other people there, we didn’t bother noticing. We were too busy watching one another to even look away long enough to find our room. Doubling back through the dizzying hallways until we found the elusive number, we finally settled into the only vaguely familiar layout of beige and tan.

She was much quicker at it than I was. Before I’d even finished washing my hands and checking exposed skin for bugs that I was convinced had hitched a ride from the leaf pile, she was already stretched out on the bed in nothing but a tiny piece of lacy cotton and her favorite sweatshirt. The sight made me stop, lost for breath and logic of how I was lucky enough to be there with her again.

“See something you like, Dr. Reid?” she teased through giggles, no doubt recalling the same memory as me.

My answer didn’t need to be said, but I said it, anyway. She deserved to hear it.

“Yes.”

With arms outstretched, she sleepily begged, “Come here.”

But I couldn’t.

“Not yet… I just… I want to look at you like this a little bit longer.”

How could I move on from this moment, when it was the best I’d ever felt? So overwhelmingly safe and at home despite being in a strange, sterile room. I had no desire to move any inch of me if it meant that this image would persist for the rest of my days.

“You getting all romantic on me?”

“Always,” I chuckled. Her usual disgust for my sappy behavior didn’t show itself, overpowered by the gentle curve of her lips and hands that were becoming more and more insistent to be held. Eventually, I had to move, knowing that it was the only way to hold her.

My body reacted the way it always did when it found her. All of the tension dropped from tired shoulders, desperate to touch her more. To feel the imprint of her body pressed against mine, a mess of heat and need and love.

She was the one to kiss me first, and for a moment I let her do it without reciprocation. I wanted to feel how her touch became softer and shier as she realized what I was doing. That I was spending all of my energy memorizing the way her lips parted as she tried to hold back a giggle against my almost-still lips.

“What’s happening in that big genius brain of yours?” she murmured with eyes half open but still containing universes.

“I’m just thinking of all the things you’ve done to make me fall in love with you.”

I thanked all of the gods in every pantheon that made her too tired to tease. Instead, she just laughed, playing her part in bringing us back to that night we met.

“Like quote Picard?”

“We still haven’t watched Star Trek together,” I whined.

The sound must have stirred something new in her, because she rolled us over to take her seat on my lap. She hung over me, looking down at me, hopeless and breathless at the feel of her thighs under my hands. My heart started to race, but I didn’t know why.

It wasn’t until she spoke the words that were already running through my mind, “We’ve got time. Picard can wait.”

Everything about it was effortless. Our bodies had fallen together and mouths found each other exactly like every romance novel has ever tried to tackle the metaphor of gravity.

But if we were an orbit, it was not a binary like the traditional notion of two equal souls. Despite the nickname I’d chosen for her, nothing about her soul was small. And even though she burned bright, she wasn’t anything like the fiery combustion of a star.

She was a home. A thing so full of vitality and life that I would love to watch for whatever time I had left. I was just a moon, loyally following her and trying my best to shield her from whatever might try to harm her. To protect her when she needed rest and to lead the tides to kiss her when she wished. I would be her shadow, shining a light onto her even in the darkest time. All that I asked for in return was a spot beside her.

‘One day,’ she had said before, ‘if you will have me.’

But it was never a question. Not for me. And if she really needed me to answer it for her, I was happy to give her that. I hadn’t been waiting for even a year, but it felt like a lifetime.

“Yeah, he can,” I repeated, quiet and with such a heavy waver that I’m surprised she could understand the shifting inflections. Even if she didn’t, she knew that something had changed in those few seconds of silence.

“What’s up, Spencer?”

I didn’t know how to answer. How to explain what I was feeling. But I grabbed hold of one hand, clinging desperately to her and guiding her to the heart that felt dangerously light. The rapid pace of its beating still not enough to alert her of the true cacophony of my thoughts.

“Are you okay?”

The answer was yes. Because no matter how loud and chaotic the sounds inside my head were, they all lead me to the same conclusion.

“Picard can wait, and we have a lot of time,” I tried to explain through a dry throat that was only growing tighter with the unwieldy weight of the feeling.

“Yes…” she mumbled back, just as trepidatious and nervous as I was.

Just like I was. Because we were. We were connected by some force, whatever you want to call it. Whether it was a chemical or psychological or heavenly connection, I didn’t care. I wanted her to know how I felt. To know that there was nothing that would ever tear me away from her.

“But I don’t… I don’t think I want to wait.”

After a couple more seconds of silence, she answered with a knowing stare, “… What?”

From my position underneath her, I was able to reach over just enough to grab my jacket. Of course, it helped that she moved with me, clearly curious and terrified of the possibilities. But a good kind of terror… I hoped.

My confidence grew as her legs gripped tighter around my hips and her hands shot up to cover her chest with balled fists pressed against one another. I heard the friction of her skin as her body started to shake in a different way, with an adrenaline that I hadn’t seen from her in even the most dangerous situations.

But when I pulled a small velvet box from the internal pocket, everything stopped. She became completely still. Her eyes were wide and frozen on the object in my hands, only to look away when she heard my voice.

“(Y/n).”

“Where did you get that?” she asked like she hadn’t just seen me pull it from my jacket. The same jacket that I wore every time that I was with her. The wool fabric that she’d swaddled herself in on a number of occasions, none the wiser of how much heavier it was for me when I wore it.

“I know this is really random, a-and to be fair, I wasn’t expecting it, either,” I said through the most awkward laughs I’d ever produced (which was saying something), “I mean, I knew I wanted to marry you, I’ve known that for quite some time, hence the ring.”

I paused, but got nothing in response. Nothing except her lips quivering from their parted position, and her nose twitching as she tried to settle on just one expression. But it didn’t matter how she contorted her face; they were all exactly as they should be. Because they were all her.

“But today, with you… I-I’ve never been that happy in my life. Jumping in leaves and fighting over fall flavors and I—“

Her eyes stopped bouncing, settling with my gaze and robbing my lungs of all air. She made up her mind, deciding to leave everything exactly as it was. The honest truth of the overwhelming storm of every emotion that had been experienced in the little time we had shared together.

The knowing that everything had happened exactly as it should have to bring us here.

“I love you so much,” I whispered, careful to make every word as genuine as they were, “And I know that we have all the time in the world left with one another… but I don’t want to wait any longer for you to be my wife.”

“Ask me,” she answered immediately and abruptly.  

“Okay,” I laughed, endlessly entertained by how she could sound so aggressive even when we were both at our most vulnerable, caught in the nexus of our love.

“Um… Will you… marry me?”

There was no hesitation. No worry, no fear, and no doubt.

“Yes, you stupid old man!” she outright screamed, throwing arms around me even when it meant we both slammed against pillows and the headboard. She didn’t stop squealing even when she kissed me, struggling to find more of me to hold onto.

After she decided that tugging on my hair was the best way to express her affection, I managed to break away just long enough to shout, “Wait! I have to put the ring on you!”

“Then put it on!” she yelled, thrusting her hand in front of my face and practically slapping me in the process. But none of the pain mattered. Nothing was even recognizable outside of the feeling of her sweaty, shaking palm resting against my fingers.

I noticed for the first time that I was also trembling. I took the time to focus, slipping the ring over her finger. But once it started to safely slide into place, my eyes returned to watch what I knew to be happy tears fall over her cheeks. I wiped them away, but they were replaced with the wetness from my face when she brought us together again with a long, gentle kiss.

A calmness came over the room like the feeling following a storm. A clean slate with soil enriched for growth. A hope for a future forever changed.

“What do we do now?” she asked, biting her bottom lip and holding tight to my hands.

The answer seemed clear enough.

“Whatever we want.”

—————————————————

Is this really happening?

I stared at the diamond shining back at me with a clarity that had to be a metaphor for my heart. In the vague reflection of yellow light and us, I felt a warmth that doesn’t normally accompany metal. My finger’s new companion felt so comfortable in its new resting place. A constant reminder of the man I called home.

Then I turned back to him, unsure how I was supposed to move on from this moment. I never wanted to leave, but I also needed to move. I compromised and settled with my face against his chest, listening to the heartbeat he’d just dedicated to me. In that peaceful quiet, I heard him speak so softly I wasn’t sure I was meant to hear it.

But I did.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he said with fingers dancing through the ends of my hair, “I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

And for once, the thought didn’t feel like a burden. In fact, it felt like freedom. I was finally free to be who I was without worry that I would be alone. Without worrying that I would be too much or too little to please him.

I was enough.

Enough.

“I love you,” I said, tasting salt from tears I hadn’t even noticed were falling.

Curiously, and in a rare role switch, Spencer was the one who took a blatantly affectionate display and turned it into something else. Pulling me away from his chest, he dragged me up until he could drag his lips over my jaw.

“Don’t cry, little girl,” he cooed with what I could only imagine was a wicked grin, “I haven’t given you a reason to yet.”

Something about that gruff rumble in his throat caused my skin to ripple with goosebumps. Every inch of me burned with flames that could only be put out by his touch. I chased after his lips with my own, but he was insistent on trailing down my throat. He knew I would be powerless to him. I wouldn’t be able to argue when my hands were knotted in his hair and my hips were already rocking helplessly against his erection.

“I want you to fuck me,” I seethed. My blood was boiling from the heat I felt within, and before he could even answer I was already working at the buttons on his shirt.

“Oh? You don’t want me to make love to you?” Spencer laughed. As if that had ever been our style.

“No, I want you to take what’s yours.”

He responded to the demand by pushing me from my seat, forcing me onto my back on the other end of the bed. I wasn’t going to complain, either. The new position allowed me access to his belt, which I unbuckled before he even had time to laugh.

“Are you really challenging me right now, little girl?”

But despite the taunt, he did nothing to stop me. His hands were also busy removing my clothes. And just like before, our nakedness was reciprocated. With each lost layer, I should have felt lighter, but I didn’t. I felt so powerful, so aware of how our bare bodies twined together.

“Here, of all places? Do you remember what I did to you that night?”

How could I ever forget?

“I’m not the same girl you had in your bed then,” I purred. We both knew it was true, although not in the way I was implying.

Because Spencer had changed me. Irrevocably. He taught me so much — not just about physics, literature, or criminology, either. He taught me about kindness, softness, and vulnerability. He taught me how to trust that someone could hold me without the intention of letting me go. More than anything, he taught me that I didn’t have to learn these things alone. Even the smartest man I’d ever met needed help with them sometimes.

Then again, something told me that Spencer wasn’t in a very humble mood. Perhaps it was the fact he’d pinned me down again, with his hands clumsily gripping hard enough to leave crescent moons in my forearms.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he growled with a small, chaste kiss, “You’re still just a fucking brat.”

I wasn’t feeling bratty then, though. Especially not as I felt the head of his cock pressed against me, just hard enough to feel the resistance of my body. He waited there, no doubt taking pleasure in the way my whole body squirmed underneath him. My hips bucked, but he managed to keep a cruelly steady distance.

“You’re so precious when you’re needy,” he mumbled. And although I stubbornly avoided looking him in the eyes out of protest, he forced my face towards him again, anyway. “Go on. Say please.”

“Fuck off,” I whined through a prominent pout that did me no favors.

“Say it.”

“Please!”

I managed to make eye contact, but it was fleeting. As soon as he thrust forward into me, my back arched and I lost myself in the pillows. My hands found him, though, leaving angry red welts over heated skin. If Spencer was at all affected by the pain, he made no showing of it. His pace continued, steadily forcing our bodies together until I trembled in his hands.

He would hold me there, at my limit but not pleading for him to do anything different. With tender hands, he would fuck me until I swore bruises would follow. But I never felt unsafe; I felt cared for and cherished in a way I’d never known. I trusted him to know my limits better than myself.

I trusted him with all of me because I had already seen that when given the chance, he would do whatever he could to protect me.

The love I felt must have shone through my eyes because his hips got slower, drawing out each movement. My hips rose in tandem with his, allowing me to feel every inch of him inside of me.

“This body belongs to me now and forever,” he whispered.

It always has.

“You belong to me.”

And I felt it. The undeniable string of fate that tied us to each other. I could feel his every emotion as his fingers brushed over my throat. I melted under his touch, completely consumed by the love he felt for me. The kind of love that people spent their whole lives searching for only to come up empty. That powerful thing that drove gods to war and men to madness.

The only feeling that could tear down every wall that had been carefully crafted to protect myself. Because I didn’t need them anymore. Spencer’s arms would take their place, holding me through the storms that might follow the same way he had carried me through the ones that led us here.

“Yes,” I breathed, “I’m yours.”

For forever and whatever comes after.

The words were truer than they’d ever been before, and Spencer took it as permission to let go of any remaining hesitation. The slow, gentle thrusts became faster and our moans echoed in the small room without a second thought to the poor patrons in the rooms surrounding us. Because if they felt what we did, they would understand. Spencer still tried to hush the sounds, crashing his lips over mine in a sloppy, frenzied kiss.

I was suddenly reminded of every romantic story I’d ever heard. They all spoke of feeling so close to someone that they felt like an extension of yourself. I wasn’t sure if it was completely true, but there was no denying how at home our bodies were. The way our tongues wrapped around one another and how our noses bumped so gently in the chaos was unmatched by any meeting driven by lust or need.

His hips met mine over and over again, no matter how hard I tried to keep him closer. Even when my hips chased his to be held longer, Spencer was persistent in the ruthless pace. Because like me, he was lost in the euphoria. I knew it from the sound of his whimpers and the way he bit my lip just a little bit harder.

“Tell me what you want, little girl,” he begged. Not ordered. Begged.

“You,” I answered without any doubt, “I just want you.”

His response came even faster, even more desperate and scratchy as it came through his lips into mine.

“You have me. For the rest of my life and whatever comes after, I will take care of you.”

There was nothing left to say. I could feel the truth and force behind the words as he fucked me harder, eliciting one more quiet cry from me in the sound of his name.

“Spencer...”

When he returned the call, though, it wasn’t with any name I’d heard from him before.

“So you better get used to this feeling,” he said through a smile that I felt on my lips before he drew back. He looked me in the eye as he buried himself in me, tensing to hold himself back just a few seconds longer. To see the look on my face and let that be the feeling of us giving in to each other for the first time in our new story.

“Because I’m never going to grow tired of this, Mrs. Reid.”

Mrs. Reid.

That was going to be my name.

Mrs. Reid.

That was the only thought running through my mind as I felt the coil in my gut snap and all of my muscles tense around him. There were no whorish sounds left in my lungs, only little whimpers and whines as I tried to claw him closer. Spencer gave up his visual in exchange for kissing me while he finished. My walls held him so tightly that I felt each pulse and every place where his release filled me. But nothing was more compelling than feeling the way his lip quivered between mine as his body fell onto mine with no grace required.

Spencer could act hard all he wanted, but I felt the way he craved softness. Safety. Love. All things I was happy to give… for a price.

“Say it again.”

“Say what again?” he replied sleepily but animated enough to have a healthy dose of snark. Snark that earned him a rough nudge of my elbow into his ribs.

“You know!”

But naturally, the genius had to play dumb. With a happy little hum, he snuggled closer to me, burying his face into my neck so he could mumble against the skin, “You’ll have to be more specific.”

“Please,” I sighed, “for me?”

He seemed to contemplate the plea for a little while longer, with wiggling toes I felt against my shins and a happy sigh that breezed over my neck. I tried to take in those small things while I waited, knowing that while I had a lifetime to learn them, this moment would never come again.

“Fine,” he finally settled, propping himself up to give another soft kiss followed by the most beautiful sound in the world.

“Only for you, Mrs. Reid.”

—— The Next Morning ——

Waking up next to Spencer with a ring on my finger was literally waking up to find my dream come to life. And sure, his light snoring and constant wriggling under the sheets he continued to pull off of me weren’t perfect or picturesque, but they were real. The same way that he chirped when he felt my legs wrap around him in his sleep and only woke when he heard me giggling.

His eyes fluttered open, taken aback by something that he saw. Although I would blame it on the sunlight filtering through the curtains, I was sure that he would give me all the credit.

“Good morning,” he slurred.

“Hi,” I answered with a smile and an attempt to pull him closer. But my hand was stopped by his, squeezing my palm between his fingers before dragging my knuckles to his lips. From there, he laid a gentle kiss over the diamond he’d placed there the night before. Although it was strange to be outshone by a rock, I let it go for now.

“I know you shouldn’t sleep with it on, but it’s so nice to see it’s still there,” he said with a heavy breath before lowering our still joined hands to rest against his heart. I could feel the way it beat a little bit quicker as I came closer, and I wondered if this was really what it would be like forever.

“I couldn’t resist wearing it.”

“You know you can still change your mind, right? We haven’t told anyone.”

“I haven’t changed my mind,” I replied unlike every time before. There was no teasing, no joke or anger or sadness. Just a pure, unadulterated joy.

… Of course, the question did bring up an entirely new anxiety. It did feel a bit silly, but it needs to be expressed.

“Have you?”

“God, no,” he laughed. Like he’d only asked the question to see the way I might panic. But as soon as I heard his assurance, I knew it was the truth.

My mind started to drift back to that first morning we spent together. It felt like a lifetime ago, but everything still felt so very much the same. I wondered if there were things I would change if given the chance. It wasn’t until after I ran through the laundry list of things that we would have been better off without that I realized I’d asked the wrong question.

It wasn’t a matter of what I would have changed, but what I would have kept the same. And the answer was simple. No matter what I would face in my life, I just wanted it to be with him. Everything would be okay as long as I had him.

However, when I tried to kiss him, Spencer still seemed hung up on the things he would have changed. Our lips didn’t connect for even ten seconds before he broke apart, happily laughing through the words, “This is so much better when I’m not hungover.”

“Old man.”

He didn’t argue back, wiggling under the sheets until our chests were pressed together. I took it as a very poor attempt at a power play, because instead of craning my neck to look up at him from my spot, I simply climbed his lanky figure until our noses were pressed together.

“Your old man now,” he corrected, followed by my own clarification of, “You were always mine, Dr. Reid.”

“But now you get to show everyone.” He grinned, letting go of my hand to roam over the curves of my body. His daily attempts to memorize each version of me he held. After a few more moments of silent reverence, I asked the question we’d have to face eventually, lest we face even more awkward, embarrassing moments with the team.

“Who’s gonna tell everyone?”

He barely even considered the options before he shrugged.

“Let’s just… wing it.”

I paused, certain that I’d heard it wrong. “You, Spencer Reid, would like to ‘wing it?’” I repeated, barely able to get the words out without laughing from the absurdity of it all.

But he was quick to assure me, “Yeah, I do.”

“Alright. Whatever you say,” I sighed. I figured that it wouldn’t be worth it to plan right now, anyway. It wasn’t exactly our style. If anything, we would find the perfect time completely by accident.

“You know what we should do first though?” I excitedly announced to the best audience a girl could ever ask for.

“What?”

“Coffee,” I drawled. To which he quickly answered, “I love you an ungodly amount.”

Taking full advantage of that admission, I shoved the poor soul who’d shackled himself to me forever away as I ordered, “Go turn it on. I am craving shitty hotel coffee in bed with my fiancé.”

“Fine,” he resigned with a smile while rolling out of the bed, “Spoiled brat.”

“Your spoiled brat!” I shouted back from safe under the covers that I could finally get back in his absence. They weren’t as good as him, but they would be enough for now. I buried my face into his pillow, snickering as I heard a very tired Spencer call from the bathroom, “Forever mine!”

Just as the sounds of running water filled the room, I lifted my head at the distant sound of familiar chiming beside me.

“Is that my phone?”

I didn’t answer, paralyzed in my place as I felt the most intense sensation of deja vu I’d ever experienced. Right there on the nightstand, I saw the name Hotchner.

Spencer was quicker this time to leave the bathroom, but just as he turned the corner, a thought must have stopped him. Because he paused, staring at me with hotel sheets gathered around me and his phone against my ear.

He didn’t try to fight me for the device. In fact, he didn’t move at all, watching from a few feet away with a smile I’d never seen before. The kind that I felt so deep inside of me that I realized this was what they meant to share a soul with someone.

“Hello,” I spoke softly and filled with love, “this is Mrs. Reid.”

The End.

—————————————————

Epilogue

#spencer reid #spencer reid series #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid request #reid request #criminal minds self insert #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #dr spencer reid #spencer reid self insert

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lovely-necromancy · 3 years

Text

A Cure for Insomnia CH 1.

This is a reader insert I originally started posting on AO3. I’m cross posting here because I know some of the fandom still lives here.

Quick Disclaimer:

This is a fic I'm writing for my own comfort.

I was inspired by RaeBees (you can check out their works over on Quotev and AO3), and how they characterize the "proxies". Having always seen the characters different than most of the fandom I've interacted with I never really shared my thoughts until now. This work is only placed in the Creepypasta tag so it reaches its demographic. However, I am fully aware of the fact that no main character is considered a Pasta.

It may also appear to lean more Toby X Protag in the beginning but end goal is protag with all three, and Brian and Tim already in a relationship. How I picture it now is a slowburn but Toby and Protag will be in a friends with benefits relationship before either has any feelings, so I think that counts. Some may be confused by the asexual protag tag but it'll be explained in story, as an Ace myself I get frustrated with media that only show one version and say it goes for us all. That being said I don't represent the whole Ace community but I hope to provide a bit more representation for some others out there.

Protag will be depicted as agender, and will have a few tics that stem from their Autism. Again I don't speak for any others with Autism but I hope to provide some representation for those in similar positions.

Tags will be updated as the story progresses. Canon-Typical violence and mental health issues are to be expected if you feel uncomfortable with those aspects I advise you to not engage. This story will also have a lot of NSFW themes and scenes so I highly discourage anyone under the age of 18 from viewing this work. You will get warnings on chapters with NSFW and I will make it skippable as well.

I'm also very nitpicky and gave the main characters birthdays just because it irritates me when it gets mentioned once and you have to do the math or imagine your own conversation when a birthday was too close to a character's.

Tim January 1st, home state Alabama

Toby April 28th, home state Virginia (saw this years ago no clue if it's accurate)

Protag May 13th, home state Virginia

Brian May 23rd, home state Alabama

Connor the service dog July 18th, home state Kentucky

I've referred to Protag as Protag here but in story they're referred to as YN.

Everything felt impossibly dull; your senses, the dark room you're currently in, the noise coming from the fan just to the left of the bed on which you laid. Turning to the window beside your head you stare out into that weird midnight summer sky. More of a gray than a true dark blue night, cast in an orange glow that made the night seem closer to day than it truly was. While the time was just half past twelve, you felt it may have been more accurate to say it was closer to four in the morning.

You're exhausted but that true sort of exhaustion where whatever energy you have left buzzes all around. It consumes your entire being, dances between being deafeningly loud in your ears to giving you twitches in your legs. You'd laid down hours ago thinking you'd be tired enough to sleep once your tics started to spasm in closer intervals, but to no avail were you able to rest. That buzzing preventing you from dreamland. Maybe the hum of your body was right, you didn't really need to sleep, you just wanted it to feel normal.

Knowing the battle had already been lost you push yourself off the bed and grab a pair of shorts off the floor. Slipping them on you contemplate your options for the night. Going into town was out since it was Sunday...well Monday now, but there would be nothing but bars open and you were never one for drinking. And as fun as a drive sounds right now, you feel the buzzing in your bones grow stronger, you need to move. A late night hike should keep you occupied, with it being so quiet and the middle of the night you wouldn't even have to take your headphones to cancel out the sounds of other people, you aren't likely to run into many people tonight.

Deciding on a hike you grab a mask and car keys and make your way to your yellow Kia Soul. A going away present from your parents that they gave you the moment you got your driver's license after your 24th birthday. Having anxiety throughout your life you'd never been in the head space to start driving till later on, and while you still don't enjoy driving you are pretty good at it even with your “late” start. Surfing through radio stations as you let the car warm up you find your latest obsession, it's a conspiracy theory podcast that someone in Kepler managed to blast through the limited air ways of the town. Impressive considering Kepler was in a radio quiet zone and even cell phones couldn't work in the small town, luckily you lived just outside of the zone so you could send texts and call your parents every weekend.

It seemed today's episode was a rerun, Mothman: Murderer, Man, or Myth. It was actually one of your favorites, the paranormal stories tended to be more entertaining than hearing about how a man could murder sixteen people while working as a cop ruining evidence to lead the others off his trail. Humans could be more vial and cruel than any little gray alien from the future or tall Fresno Nightcrawler could ever be. And they weren't as entertaining to hear about, nor were their exploits as impressive. You could always see patterns, either connecting clues first or finding connections no one else saw, it was never hard to tell where a certain case would lead so you'd always end up disappointed in humanity when they overlooked such obvious clues. Though that often led you down a path of deep diving for information to see just how obvious it was, more often than not you'd find that the most logical conclusion was shady public officers. After investigating so many cold cases you're sure if you're ever in trouble you'll never involve the police, in the end they'd probably just ignore you and rule your case closed if anything ever did happen to you.

'I'd haunt them if they did.' You decide and you shift gears and begin driving to the Monongahela National Forest, as the timeline of Mothman sightings and events play out before for your ears.

Instead of going through town and possibly loosing the signal of the show, you drive on the old dirt road that runs along the very edge of the town, partially covered in trees. This over grown road is the main reason Kepler doesn't see many visitors, the second someone makes their way onto it coming off the interstate they floor it until they see civilization. Over the few months you've been here you've nearly been run right off the road by spooked tourists, trying to escape whatever ghouls their wild imaginations created. The only real thing on this road was a mini mart gas station, and even though it was shady as hell the cashier didn't bug you too much when you came in in the dead of night. Plus they had a cat, how could you not stop in and say hi to little ole Magnolia?

Speaking of which you should probably get a drink for your hike, you could already feel your throat drying out. Turning into the parking lot you're happy to see no other cars around, putting your face mask on you make your way inside. As usual the store is dead at this time, and Ronnie is manning the desk. What's unusual is the man also behind the counter, he has dark brown hair that he's tied into a small and low ponytail, thick sideburns frame his face. You immediately take note of the slight imperfections of his face, most would see the slit in his eyebrow as following the current trend or even just a genetic thing, but you can see the slightly off color of a healed scar that starts just above his eyebrow and ends mid eyelid, he has a few smaller discolorations on his crooked nose, you'd guess he's had it broken at least twice.

Briefly taking a glance to his brown eyes before looking away, today is not an eye contact day. Nodding in their directions, the best acknowledgment you can give right now, you make your way to the freezers. From the freezer section you can hear Ronnie “explain” you.

“That's YN, a regular mainly at night though. A bit skittish and rarely ever says more than 'thanks have a nice day'” Even though she's whispering you can hear everything. Including the high octave her voice takes to mimic you, it feels more like mocking.

If being mocked hadn't already put you on edge the eyes boring into you have. The eyes may not be roaming over your body but the icky crawling of your skin sure makes it feel that way. The feeling of being put under a microscope has always made you sick, the stares, the leers and sneers, and the judgment just makes you want to implode on the spot. Cease existence, be swallowed into the abyss. You're about to set yourself into an anxiety attack with all these thoughts.

'Mask, mask, mask' you repeat over and over in your head, it's the only thing you can focus on. You are wearing a mask, there is one thing they can't perceive, the face is the most important for humans to perceive, your mask protects you.

Without looking you pull a water bottle from the cooler. You don't think you like this brand but the sports mouth makes up for it, and you can't focus enough to grab another. As the imaginary spiders crawl their way under your skin and your breath hitches you make your way over to the counter head down, never looking up at the employees beyond the counter. Your vision is blurring in time with the beating of your heart, you can't tell if it's due to nerves or from being up for five days in a row.

“Hey YN, how're you?” Ronnie asks, her tone is different from the past times you've been in. It's higher and has a lilt in it that you'd expect from a teasing friend. But Ronnie isn't a friend and has never spoken to you like this, you hate it. You nod to politely move on with the process, between the crawling of your skin and the buzzing underneath it you feel sick. And you're now very aware of the existence of your eyelids, you try to focus on ignoring that awareness. You need to move.

“Hmm, that's good. Anyway this is Tim! He's just started so go easy on him.” you hear the sound of a hand hitting fabric and assume she's patted Tim's shoulder as she introduced Tim to you. Why was she doing this, what purpose could introducing you two have? You nod again, was anyone going to ring you out?

“Hi, this all?” a deep voice asked, it isn't extremely deep more of a standard baritone that has a slight raspy quality, probably a reformed smoker. You don't smell cigarettes currently so he could've quit after years. Unfortunately despite your efforts to stave them off your blinking tics emerge. Making it difficult to keep your eyes open for longer than a nano second.

Startled and ticcing you look up and catch his eyes, you see pity in them, before casting your glance back to the counter. You can never tell what's worse people seeing you as weird or seeing you as something needing to be fixed. Nodding again, Tim tells you the total; a dollar fifty eight, and you hand him two dollars from your wallet.

Tim doesn't ask if you want the receipt or a bag, he prints out the receipt and hands you your change. The change goes immediately into the cat food fund for Magnolia. She got diagnosed with diabetes about a month ago and having worked in shelters and pet stores you know just how expensive her prescription food is. After folding the receipt into your wallet, Tim gently slides the water bottle over to you.

“Have a good night.” he says it so low and gentle, as if he thinks you'll shatter in front of him. As kind as the gesture seems, you aren't that fragile...or maybe you are if you have to keep repeating 'mask' over and over in your head to ground yourself. With a final nod you turn and make your way to the door, and just as you open it you hear Ronnie call out.

“Awwww, c'mon YN at least say 'Hi' to Tim.” You really don't like how she squeaked out 'hi'.

Taking a deep breath you prepare yourself, you'll show them both you can do this simple task. Even if you can't stop blinking long enough to see straight. Once you've steadied yourself you turn and look at Tim. He's sending you a look that says 'You don't have to' all that's missing is a slow head shake to complete his unease with this “peer pressure”.

But you can do this you can say 'Hi, Tim.' Two words super simple, nothing complex like 'Hi, Tim, nice to meet you.' and so much better than the option of your next meeting saying 'Hi, Tim. Sorry for spazzing out the other night.'. Yup you can do this just breathe, you open your mouth and...and you've forgotten what to say. Looking like a deer in headlights, well at least the tics stopped, you say the first thing that pops in.

“Mask.” You've said it loud and clear both cashiers heard you.

Tim stares with wide eyes and you see Ronnie failing to hide her laughter. Out of all the ways this could've gone this was probably the best outcome for her. The blinking has started up again, this time growing more frequent. You can't even hold your eyes open, to the two cashiers it must look like you're in pain or crying. And while you want to die of embarrassment, crying is a bit of an extreme for you.

So with red face and the inability to see you leave through the door, and try to make your way back to your car. Once in you lock the doors, switch the car on, and rest your head on the steering wheel. Out of every way this stop could've gone, being perceived by a new comer and Ronnie was not what you expected. While this hadn't been the worst five minutes or so of your life, it definitely would be another thing keeping you up at night for the next twenty years.

Calming down in the cool quiet dark of your car your slowly brought back to the world by the beginning of a new episode. This one talking about the Tailypo legend. A favorite story of yours from when you were a kid living on the coast of Virginia. So with yet another deep breath and the wave of nostalgia, you pull out of the parking lot and slowly coast down the old dirt road. Heading yet again for the Monongahela forest.

It's nearly two in the morning when you roll up to see an RV parked by the forgotten entrance of the park. It isn't surprising at all to find an RV out here since the Monongahela Forest is one of the most beautiful parks you've ever been to. You also don't think anything of them being parked by this unused entrance because you use it all the time since finding it accidentally. Figuring they just wanted to camp and be left to their own devices rather than use the RV sites and be bothered with other campers here for the summer.

Climbing out of your car you notice the RV isn't new by any means but it isn't a total rust bucket either, looks like it's been passed around throughout the years. There isn't anything to suggest it's been here a while, nothing left set up outside, must have just gotten into town then. You do happen to notice dog tracks around the sandy dirt you've parked in, good to know they have a dog before you slammed your car door. Closing the door gently behind you so you don't startle a pup and wake up it's owner or owners, you make your way through the woods. No real direction in mind, with no real thought in your head. Just the thought of moving and to keep on moving.

You could walk the same path every time you came through and always find something different. In fact that's exactly what happens, you're almost positive that you've deepened the imprint of the path just from walking through several times a week. Following the same winding path you usually do, climbing over the fallen tree, and through a scattering of blueberry thicket's you find yourself on the edge of one of the forest's many streams. It's your favorite spot in the forest so far, and about as far as you've gotten considering these hikes of yours take place during the dead of night.

The wind picks up and sends a chill through you, taking that as a sign you slide down to sit by the stream. Vans placed to your side as you sink your feet into the cool water. It's peaceful out here, so cool, and quiet, save for the slight noises the stream makes, various bubbling and drips. You try to think on things like your recent move, your job, the embarrassing 'mask' incident, just life in general. But you can't seem to form a single thought, this happens a lot, you've recently been conscious of the fact that you've been running on auto pilot for the past two months, hell a lot longer than that. You think everyone must get like this from time to time, but you think you've always been this way. Keen to dissociating and slipping in and out of existence.

It's quite nice really, except for the times like right now where you'd love to figure out why the silence in your head is so painfully loud. The more you think on it the louder it gets and the stronger the buzzing under your skin feels. And right now the static in your mind has been getting louder and louder for the past few minutes. You feel your head jerk to the right of it's own accord, moving back in place it happens for a second time, and then a third, then jerks up, before jerking a forth time to the right effectively cracking you neck.

“There we go.” you mumble, you can relax a bit as the verbal tic indicates the end of this round of tics.

Sighing you look at the sky...that can't be right. The sky has been painted it's fresh baby blues for the day, but again that can't be right. You just got to the stream, that path is a thirty minute walk meaning it should be just about two thirty in the morning, but the sky suggests it's five or six at the latest. Reaching for your water bottle you find it empty next to you. You didn't fall asleep you know that much, perhaps you did dissociate tonight. Well this hike was disappointing if you knew you were going to dissociate you'd have saved yourself that embarrassment and stayed home. Maybe done some painting or tidied up.

Sighing you push yourself off the ground, collecting you vans you're about to put them on when you notice a figure off in the distance. You freeze out of shock and stare at the figure, it stares back. The figure is about ten yards away, god your near sighted ass should really remember to not leave your glasses in the car when hiking. The figure starts to make it's way to you and after a few steps you realize it hasn't moved from it's spot. Rolling your eyes you ignore the hallucination.

You'd really needed to get sleep last night, today is day six of no sleep and though you haven't had many episodes these past few days, you have a feeling they'll start to get more prominent today. Hopefully tonight you can manage to get some rest, the longer you go without sleep the more realistic the hallucinations become. But for today you're content with the knowledge that it's just shadow like beings that you'll be seeing.

After putting on your shoes you start the thirty minute hike back to your car. You're thankful for the weather in Kepler, nothing like back on the coast. Here you can go for a morning hike through the forest while a gentle breeze passes by and the sun starts to give the area a pleasant warmth. Back on the coast you couldn't run and grab the mail without getting drenched in moisture from either sweat, humidity, or a mixture of both. The coast sucks, hell Virginia sucks altogether, you're glad to be in Kepler.

“I want to go home, home.” you say out of nowhere.

Before you reach the entrance you hear barking, oh the RV campers must be up. Should you be careful not to scare them, or just walk normally and say 'Good morning' in passing, maybe just nod your head in greeting. Oh and you've stopped just beside the entrance as you got lost in your rambling. You didn't mean to come to a stop here, and as you try to move you notice how silent it's gotten. Did the dog go inside, maybe they've already passed...no it's too quiet for that. No the silence is oppressive like the one you deal with nightly, there's a reason for the silence. The situation's making you feel uneasy, but that could be the sleep deprivation talking.

You're about to brush it off and move when you hear a whispered, “Seriously man, I don't think anyone's out there. Let's get inside.”

There's a noise of agreement before you hear shuffling. Oh no, you zoned out and now you look like a weirdo stalker. Just perfect, maybe if you wait around a little more you'll seem more normal or at least feel normal. Not knowing how long to wait you walk along the tree line for a bit, looking at the ground as you do making sure you won't step on any snakes. In you quest to not step on any snakes you spot something suspiciously off white. It seems purposefully buried under a dead blueberry bush and some fallen branches.

Having listened to too many true crime shows, you know better than to implicate yourself in a murder. Grabbing a stick off the ground you gently brush the foliage away from the supposed corpse. No way, you can't believe your luck, it's an actual fucking skull. An intact skull of a deer! That is so cool, you've only seen taxidermists on TikTok getting so lucky and finding these dudes. Since the jaw bone is connected by tissue it of course isn't with the skull but maybe it's close by? Clearly this got planted or hidden by someone, maybe they were planning on pranking a friend by 'uncovering' a skull later. Oh well, finders keepers and all that, you have way better plans for this guy, hopefully you can find that jaw bone.

You set off searching through the foliage and near by bushes with the branch while holding the skull in your other arm. After searching about three feet around and finding no more bones you decide that this is the only part of the deer's skeleton in this area. A little disappointed but still thrilled with your find, you decide it must be a good time to go back to your car.

Surely you won't look weird now. You a little forager with their treasure in hand. Looks like you'll be busy cleaning, then bleaching, and cleaning these bones today. Is that the order to treat found bones? You aren't sure but you can look into that later. Placing the skull in the trunk so it doesn't roll about and get damaged you make sure it's secure before closing the trunk and getting into your car and locking the doors.

Not once did you notice the pairs of eyes that had been watching you. One watching as you found the deer skull, and the other set seeing you place bones into your car. They kept watching as you fiddled with the radio while the car was starting up. They watched as you pulled out of the sandy dirt lot and drove back down the old road a little faster than before now that you could clearly see.

#creepypasta fanfic #ticci tobyx reader #brain thomas x reader #timothy wright x reader #masky x reader #hoodie x reader #reader insert #no clue if I'm reaching a wider audience than AO3 but I'll try this out #Crossposted #as of now 13 chapters are over on AO3 if you wanted to read #other wise I'll post a chapter every 3 days on here until I catch up with AO3 #Ao3 has priority #A cure for insomnia

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idy-ll-ique · 3 years

Text

Art.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Genre: Fluff, little bit of Angst

Warnings: jealousy and insecurity

Requested: nope

Summary: In which Steve is into art but Y/N is not.

Author's Note: Hiya peeps! Haven't got anything to say specifically so,,, enjoy the fic! Hope you like it!

[Y/H - Your Hobby]

---

"Oh my God, this is awesome!"

"It is, isn't it?" Y/N smiled softly, staring at the pure joy on Steve Rogers' face as he stared at the beautiful painting in front of him. "So much! Ah, realistic paintings, they're always so amazing. Do you like them?" he grinned, putting an arm around her shoulders. "Sure, they look cool," Y/N shrugged, not really understanding the painting. It was aesthetically pleasing, though.

Well, anything to make her boyfriend happy. They were at an art gallery in Brooklyn, which Steve loved to visit. Y/N, knowing how much Steve liked art, and her, always accompanied him. Steve and Y/N had been dating for nearly a year now. "Yeah! I know you aren't into art, but thanks for coming."

Y/N scoffed, burrowing closer to him. "You're my boyfriend, bro, anything for you." She giggled when he gave her a playful shove, immediately pulling her back to him. "Don't call me that, I'm your boyfriend," he chided jokingly, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Sure you are." Steve laughed, ruffling her hair.

"We've been together for a year." They stood in front of an abstract painting. Just as Y/N was about to retort, they heard someone clearing their throat. Turning around, they saw a woman standing there, smiling at them. "Hello, I'm Tiffany! You're Steve Rogers, if I'm correct?" she addressed the man.

"I am, and this is my girlfriend, Y/N Y/L/N," Steve answered with a polite smile, unconsciously pulling Y/N closer to him. He didn't like the way Tiffany was looking at him. "This is my painting, do you like it?" Tiffany asked. There was something off about her... "Ah, sure sure, it looks really good." Even though he didn't trust Tiffany, he couldn't lie about the art.

"Thank you! What do you think about it, Y/N?" Tiffany turned her smile unto Y/N. The woman blinked and glanced at the art. "It's nice," she shrugged truthfully. "Ooh, I'm so glad! The meaning is truly wonderful, I worked hard on it," Tiffany clapped her hands. "Yeah… the meaning…" Y/N cleared her throat, looking away from her.

"If you wanna see more of my art, you're very welcome to check it out! This one is on sale, actually, if you would consider," Tiffany offered, looking directly at Steve. "Oh no, not here to buy anything, just to admire," Steve chuckled, waving his arm in dismissal. "Okay, okay, but if you want to ever talk about art, you can give me a call. Toodles!"

With that, Tiffany handed Steve a business card, turned around and left. Steve stared at the card he involuntarily accepted, scrunching his nose. "Oh God, that—" He cursed, throwing the card into a nearby trash can. "What about her? I think she was lovely," Y/N lied, giving him a quick smile.

"She was clearly condescending! Ugh!" Steve rolled his eyes, "Anyway, we don't wanna ruin our day. Let's continue with the art!" Y/N's mind wandered as she casually latched on Steve's arm, ignoring the words he was saying to her. She couldn't help but think about Tiffany and how it was clear that she was hitting on her boyfriend.

To be honest, Tiffany was kind of better than her. Steve and Y/N had no common interests, why was he even interested in her? Why wasn't he into Tiffany? Steve's main attraction was art, he loved it more than anything else in the world and yet he continued to be with a woman who had absolutely no curiosity in said thing.

Why?!

Y/N softly groaned.

Oh no, this was gonna be a problem.

Which she was gonna fix.

---

Impressionism is a 19th-century art movement characterized by relatively small, thin, yet visible brush strokes, open composition, emphasis on accurate depiction of light in its changing qualities (often accentuating the effects of the passage of time), ordinary subject matter, inclusion of movement as a crucial...

Y/N blinked and yawned, throwing her phone on the bed. "Ugh! Why is art so fucking boring and frustrating?!" she moaned, rubbing a hand over her face. She sat up all of a sudden, squinting at the clock in the corner of the room. It was 4:56 am. "Or maybe I'm just tired…" She lay back down on the bed and kept her phone away.

The thing is, ever since that one visit to the art gallery, Y/N's little confusion about Tiffany and Steve had turned into the biggest insecurity of hers. Since that time, she had been limiting her meetings with Steve, as was she learning more about the thing that made Steve most happy: Art.

Steve hadn't questioned her as of yet, which was good. He didn't suspect a thing. She knew he didn't like Tiffany, given how he had called her unsavory things and also immediately threw her business card in the trash. Y/N just couldn't help feeling like she didn't belong with Captain America, Steve Rogers.

Steve, meanwhile, also awake, was sitting on the balcony in his room, thinking about his girlfriend. Why had she been acting so weird for the past one month? Absolutely refused to be around him for more than half-an-hour, sounded tired every time they talked and knew surprisingly a lot about paintings.

How? And why? He sighed and got up, stumbling into his bedroom. A little talk tomorrow won't hurt, right? Running a hand through his hair, he plopped down on the bed, lay down and finally decided to sleep.

---

"Y/N? Sweetie, can I talk to you?" Y/N glanced at Steve. "Yeah, what happened?" she smiled when he sat next to her, putting an arm around her. "Is everything okay with you? Lately you've been… kind of strange," he whispered. "I'm fine! Just having trouble sleeping, that's it," Y/N muttered, resting her head on his shoulder.

They were sitting in his room at the Stark Tower. "No, it's something else. I've known you for a year, my love, tell me. I'm here for you," he assured her, brushing her hair with his fingers. "Fine! It's Tiffany! She got into my head," Y/N groaned, burying her face in his neck. "Her?! That— sorry," Steve blushed when Y/N gave him a pointed look.

"Look, I get it, man. You're Captain America, you're America's hottest man or something and women literally flock to you all the time but she— she likes art. Just like you do. You both know so much about it, it's insane! I'm only thinking, why am I with you? I've never been interested in art, and Tiffany actually seems like a fun person to be around."

"So you got a little insecure?" Steve teased, pressing his lips to her temple. "I haven't slept in a month! Why do you think I know so much about art all of a sudden?" Y/N huffed, looking away from him. He froze. She gave up her sleep just to make sure she was… worthy of his affections?

"You're lying."

"I'm not lying. I slept at 6 am yesterday. Today, technically speaking. I had to be at my job at 8, and I got half an hour of sleep all because I was researching impressionist art— Why are you looking at me like that?" Y/N deadpanned. Steve continued to stare at her, a look of disbelief and incredulity on his face.

"I want to tell you something very important." He pulled away and turned to sit face-to-face with her. "What's that?" she mumbled. "I love you. I love you so much, Y/N, you're the most gorgeous woman I've seen, we are happy together and I like that. We have different interests, of course I know that, but it doesn't matter."

"Why doesn't it?"

"Because when we're together, next to each other, I have the best time of my life. Everything is blissful when you're with me and it's… it is euphoric. You don't need to learn about art just to hang out with me, I like rambling to you! Unlike artists, who would most definitely interrupt me at all times, you listen. And I like that. I also love listening to you talk about Y/H."

Y/N teared up at his words. "Thank you," she managed to blurt out, sniffling when Steve laughed and pulled her into his arms. "Off the bat, I knew what that bratty woman wanted. But I didn't want it because I already have it better," he chuckled, rubbing her back in soothing motions.

"I love you too," Y/N mumbled into his shoulder, smiling softly when she felt him pressing a kiss to the top of her head. All of a sudden, there were knocks on the door. "Come in," Steve called out and Sam poked his head into the room. "Steve, we have a meeting in 15 minutes, just a heads up. Hi Y/N!"

"Hi Sam!" Y/N greeted enthusiastically. "I see you're doing better now," Steve smiled, wiping her tears away when Sam left. "I needed to talk and we did, I'm… I'm not insecure anymore," Y/N admitted, playing with the hem of the t-shirt she was wearing. "I'm glad we could sort this out. I gotta go now, talk to you later?"

"I'm not going anywhere. Bye!"

She smiled when he leaned over and gave her a chaste kiss. "I love you!" he called out when he left the room. "I love you— close the door, you turd!" She laughed loudly when he turned around with a raised eyebrow. "I love you too, Steve," she grinned cheekily, bursting into boisterous laughter when he closed the door behind him.

Outside, Steve only smiled, happy that his girlfriend was doing much better.

See, a little conversation didn't hurt.

---

A/N: Hope you liked it! Leave a like if you did, thanks for reading!

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x female reader #steven grant rogers #steve rogers fluff #captain america #chris evans x reader #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x you #chris evans x female reader #chris evans characters #disney #mcu #marvel #avengers #fanfic #writing #writeblr

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rikalovesrice · 3 years

Text

My Thoughts on Trollhunters : Rise of the Titans

WARNING : ALL THE SPOILERS IN THIS REVIEW

Mmmmm. Okay. So I just finished the movie. I’m fatigued as always so this’ll be a bit of a mess lol. Gotta spew the thoughts while they’re still fresh, y’all know how it is.

Right out the gate, I definitely want to talk about the things I loved.

The animation was, of course, phenomenal and gorgeous!

Voice acting was incredible as always

MUSIC SLAPPED

Douxie. I just loved seeing Douxie again and honestly kept my eyes trained on him for most the of movie lol

OK DOUXIE AND NARI SWITCHING?? BODIES??? Definitely didn’t see that coming and I legit started screaming lol

Nari in Douxie’s body is the most precious, chaotic, and wholesome thing like holy cow that was so adorable LOOKIT DOUXIE CROUCHING AND CRAWLING AROUND ON ALL FOURS WITH THOSE NOODLE LIMBS OF HIS I CAN’T --

We called Nari’s mind control and Douxie trying to reason with her!

In the very few scenes they were together, Douxie’s love and affection for Nari really came through. You could really feel how much he cared about her. ALSO THAT TENDER HUG AND NARI’S LITTLE HAPPY SQUEAK MY HEART NO--

Loved Barbara. Always love Barbara.

Walter and Barbara getting engaged

Nomura back in action

Claire being the powerful sorceress she’s become

Loved seeing Aja, Krel, and Varvatos all together again.

NARI VS SKRAEL WAS ALL SORTS OF EPIC AND CRUSHING EMOTIONS.

The way Douxie yelled Nari’s name and ran to her after she died and the remnants of her magic falling all around him, like she was saying goodbye, just *UGLY CRYING*

It was so cool to see Charlie out of his den and flying about like the mighty dragon he is

Loved the Guardians of Arcadia pulling Excaliber out together.

All the gang all going after Bellroc together

YES JIM MY BOOOOOOY

BLINKY DIDN’T DIE

Aarrgh I love you so much

Stuart, what a bro!

We saw a hint of mercy in Bellroc towards the end.

Toby’s death... That was a huge curveball. Jim might as well have cut my heart out with Excaliber as he sobbed over his best friend.

Uh.....um....and.....Er...what else........ .___.

..........Alright so.......It’s about to get a bit brutal from here on out as I talk about the things I didn’t like at all. And the really sad thing is, at least to me, the cons far outweigh the pros in this movie. Because I’m actually having difficulty picking out things I enjoyed, they were so few and far between...which really sucks.

So here we go.

Gosh, where to begin... I guess I’ll go ahead and say this : I’m really disappointed.

Like as I’m here typing this, I’m just thinking, “...That was it? That was the movie?? The big finale???”

So much of this movie just felt....unnecessary. I hate to say almost like filler. The entire intro re-caping the series really wasn’t needed. And then Toby went and restated it all again when he was being interrogated. The pacing, oh my gosh...Guys, the pacing in this movie was not good. The action started and it never seemed to stop. There wasn’t a single moment of rest, of levity, of our characters just being themselves, getting to know each other, being friends outside of the battle. No Reckless Club Segment. No fun, just... I mean Claire and Aja didn’t speak to each other at all. Douxie and Toby hardly interacted. Steve was turned into a gross male pregnancy joke. Jim and Krel barely spoke. Douxie and Aja had nothing to say to each other. Even Aja and Krel didn’t have any moments together. The list goes on. The whole movie was just go, go, go. And it’s so frustrating because there was time for it but it was poorly executed.

Like was the whole break-in to the Chinese Trollmarket really necessary?? Guys, I really found myself not caring. I didn’t care to see this random side quest involving an insignificant new troll character and a Trollmarket that had little to no bearing on the plot. Did I love seeing Charlie, Archie, Blinky, and Claire? Of course! But these scenes were so pointless. So needless. They could’ve written other ways for all our heroes to go after the chronosphere (Maybe we could’ve had Zoe for crying out loud). But instead this vital artifact was the hands of a character we don’t know and don’t care about in a place that turned out to have basically nothing to do with anything.

Deaths. The deaths in this movie. Because of the pacing in this movie, there wasn’t nearly enough time for the emotional impacts to sink in. Nomura? Gone and the only ones mourning her are Aaarrgh and Douxie, who barely knew her. Walter’s death was handled better since we got to see Jim and Barbara actually having a moment to mourn him. The weight of Nari’s death was singlehandedly carried by Douxie, but even that was over before it started. The immense gravity of Toby’s death, which really got to me, was also short-lived to make way for an ending that...I don’t know.

ALSO DOUXIE JUST??? BEING OKAY WITH HIS FAMILIAR, THE ONE WHO RAISED HIM AND WENT THROUGH SO MUCH WITH HIM FOR CENTURIES, LEAVING HIM FOREVER TO BE TRAPPED IN THAT DUMB TROLLMARKET WITH CHARLIE LIKE???

“I hope he’s happy.”

WHAT. THE. EVERLASTING. FRICK.

Douxie’s reaction objectively doesn’t make a shred of sense. Geez, it’s almost like Douxie was expecting Archie to up and leave him someday to be with Charlegmane. Just...what???

What also frustrates me so much is how this movie undid so much characterization and development that happened in Wizards. Or more like all that development didn’t even matter.

What was the point of Steve’s arc in Wizards if he was just going to be reduced to...this?

I was so excited to see Douxie really being a Master Wizard. To see him lead the Guardians of Arcadia alongside Jim. To see him in action as Successor to Merlin and Protector of this Realm.

But no.

Douxie, who had such an incredible arc in Wizards and a character who’s come to mean so much to me in my life, was nerfed and sidelined.

And then time restarts and I can’t help but wonder why any of this mattered at all. What the heck was the freaking point of the suffering, the loss, the pain, the growth, enduring and overcoming so much, the friendships and family spanning across three shows... All gone. Starting all over. Undoing everything, except what Jim went through. As much as I love Jim, I didn’t think he’d be the only character I’d be getting closure for at the grand finale of this entire franchise. But that’s what happened and I really hate it.

Just...all in all, this movie wasn’t satisfying. Not to me. It had its good moments. But not nearly enough. The comedy was misplaced and fell flat. The climax was sorely anticlimactic and didn’t hold a candle to Eternal Knight. The writing, the direction, characterization...For some reason it was all lost and confused and none of it felt right and so much didn’t make sense.

I’m not at all upset with the writers, though, because they still pulled through and did what they could. When the movie did something right, it was beautiful. The things I loved about it I truly adored. No, I’m not upset in the least bit with any of the creative team.

I’m upset with Netflix. I’m upset that Wizards was robbed of the seasons it should’ve had. I’m upset with big cooperations stifling creators. I’m upset that this’ll be it. This is the ending we got and nothing can be done about it.

Aaron did say there’s every possibility for the franchise to continue in some capacity, and I’m hoping for that someday. Because so much, too much, has been left unanswered. So much left to be explored that couldn’t. But until then....I guess this is it. This is what we get.

Now, I want to remind everyone that this is my own personal experience with the movie. These are all my opinions. If you enjoyed every second the movie, that’s wonderful! And who knows how my thoughts will change upon another viewing. But in the meantime, Rise of the Titans really missed the mark for me. I wanted found family badassery and fluff. But nope. Just fighting and heaviness and no payoff. It’s such a letdown...a real shame.

But yeah...Thanks to any and everyone who read to the end of this haha

I still love Tales of Arcadia. It’s a series that has blessed and inspired me so much as an artist, writer, and as a person in general. I do want to keep making ToA content for a while. Cause this movie isn’t the end. Not my ending, at least.

I’ll continue to hope for more Tales of Arcadia in the future (a Douxie spin-off series please Lord pleaaase). We shall see. Until then, fics and fanart fixing this mess galore haha

Until next time everyone! God bless!

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rosemary-is-in-pesterquest · 3 years

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I am. SO. frustrated. that they keep fucking up davekat. like I just wanna go off. just wanna go the fuck off, man, I didn't even ship them that hard at first but god damn I do now and it's pretty much because the epilogues and HS2 have fucked them up so bad and I know they are better than that. let me just.

okay so originally, davekat is built on themes of mutual defensiveness in response to insecurity. when Dave is first introduced, he portrays himself as a cool guy, and gives us the concept of Strider irony. where a normal person might claim to love something shitty as an ironic joke, or maybe the ironic joke masks sincere enjoyment... Strider irony, according to Dave, has a billion more levels of sincerity and insincerity, to the point where you have no idea what the real intent is. in part, this is due to teen pretentiousness... but in some ways this is a reflection of him genuinely finding his Bro unfathomable, and wanting to protect his own genuine thoughts, opinions, and interests from criticism, without actually coming off as insecure. as time goes by, you can watch him and figure out what is sincere and what isn't... he doesn't actually keep that tight of a lid on things, but that's partially because the game allows him more freedom than he usually has. he at least isn't living in his Bro's shadow anymore. some might extrapolate this to mean that he's experiencing more physical and mental security than usual, while others might just say he's coming into his own via this journey, but the fact of the matter is that he felt the need to hide behind this facade in the first place. and the tricky thing with Dave is that it isn't all fake. it's a weird mixture of who he is, who he wants to be, and what he thinks others will respond well to. his development isn't so much discarding the mask, as it is reconciling what it's made of, and incorporating it into his true self as he matures. he accepts it as a piece of him. it's very subtle, and natural, and true to what growing up is really like. I think this is why so many people like Dave and relate to him so much.

for Karkat, insecurity manifests in the form of being hyper critical of everyone around him. to be honest, this also comes from a deep sense of concern for the people around him, and the fact that his friend group is made of a bunch of loose canons who do destructive shit for fun, and people who are easily dragged into that sort of thing. but the thing that keeps Karkat's hyper critical nature from irritating people too much is that he's also super extra critical of himself. he admits it when he's done something wrong... though admittedly often after it's made people angry at him, and he has a good amount of very sincere apologies that he delivers so that they come off as very sincere and actually work in terms of reconciling with people. Karkat's biggest issue is that criticizing your own internal flaws and actually fixing them are two different things. and while Karkat can identify many problems with himself, he's not always the best at making them go away. it takes him a long time to learn how to change himself, because in order to change yourself, you have to accept the flawed parts of yourself and work with them, rather than just trying to push them out of your sight. this is why his anger at his past and future selves is ultimately unhealthy. it keeps him from truly addressing the fact that his current self is just as subject to those same flaws. for example, if he's talking to a past self and a future self, and his future self is condescending to him, and his past self is naive, then his present self is both of those things to his conversation partners. but he's so repulsed by his own negative attributes that he's not really dealing with them. his saving grace is that everyone can see how hard he's trying, and how worried and scared he is. ultimately, Karkat doesn't want to be the reason for screwing everyone over, and that's more concern for others than anyone ever asked for. it gains Karkat a lot of good will, without him necessarily even realizing what he's doing.

what's excellent about davekat is that they come out the gate fully critical of one another... but neither is willing to back down either. somehow, these two insecure idiots trick each other into defending themselves. and it's brilliant, because they get all their critical bullshit out of the way immediately. they don't fear criticism from one another. they already criticize one another all the time, and it's fine. like, their worst complaints about each other are right out there in the open, and how freeing must that be for a couple of guys who worry about other people's opinions of them so much? Dave has nothing to hide and nothing to prove. Karkat defends his own positive qualities. it's good for them. eventually, they just kind of run out of material... and there's something comforting about knowing that they've said every bad thing they can think of about each other, and none of it was a deal breaker. they're still in each other's business constantly. and that's when they start to learn from each other. see, Karkat is really blunt. he wanders into the thick of things, yelling at people and making mistakes all over the place... and Dave is just more cautious than that. his whole cool guy persona is made to keep that kind of raw emotion from leaking out, and to make every mistake seem like he meant to do that. but Karkat makes mistakes all the time. and apologizes all the time. and he comes out okay. Karkat is sincere. but Karkat is also high strung... and Dave isn't. Dave knows how to chill, and he plans things, and he can sit down with people and calmly talk through a plan. get it in simple terms and hash things out without panicking. Karkat often exhausts himself trying to run around and manage everything, and while it can be kind of endearing to see how much he cares... it's not exactly healthy. Dave has more of a level head, beyond just his cool kid persona, and isn't afraid to make people walk things back and take it from the top. and actually, what Dave and Karkat have in common is that they try really hard for the people around them, and feel great concern for the people they love. when the chips are down, they value similar things. and once they've run out of ineffectual ways to badmouth each other, that's what they have left. probably the thing that bugs them the most about each other is how much they actually have in common in terms of priorities. and while I do think that in their relationship, they'll probably always bicker with each other, that's the core foundation. they're caring people who look out for their group and try to help wherever they can. in essence... they're both knights through and through.

and then HS2 fucks it all up. legit why even confuse anything about their relationship? just let them uncontroversially date, keep it lowkey and tasteful, realize the wonderful potential of their friends razzing them about it a little, and write a better story for them to exist in. god damn. like, seriously, just give them more people to actually care about, because Dave and Karkat feel out of character if they aren't constantly in the lives of a plethora of friends who are important to them. look at them in homestuck. look at everything they do best. of course they wouldn't thrive in HS2, none of the cast even likes each other anymore!! Dave and Karkat were basically instrumental in setting up rosemary, which fits so well with all of their characterization its insane. I just want everyone to periodically go back, and reread homestuck, and remember when these characters were good people.

BASED WENDELL COMING IN WITH THEIR ANALYSIS BETTER THAN WHATEVER THE FUCK THE HS2 WRITERS SHIT OUT

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itsclydebitches · 3 years

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The thing that feels disingenuous about Miles answer about Ironwood is that he was part of the writing staff that framed the general as a cool character to start with. I do think that the signs about Ironwood's evil were clear since V2 and in V7 he was an outright dictator from episode 1. Nonetheless, he was still consistently framed as a cool character, someone you can trust and rely. You don't get to blame the fans for liking a genocide if you was the one framed him as cool in the first place.

I actually don’t think being cool is the problem. If we’re satirizing and/or making a statement about the toxic masculinity that leads to something like a dictatorship, then being “cool” is a crucial part of that. People don’t leverage the power they have by looking lame, they do so by appearing desirable, enviable, awesome. Being in the military is supposedly “cool.” Being a white guy with a giant gun is supposedly “cool.” Having power over an entire nation is supposedly “cool,” etc. If you only make such characters look revolting — even when they are — then you miss one of the main recruitment tools for this kind of rhetoric. Any version of Ironwood that’s meant to make a point about the dangers of following someone like him needs to make him look “cool” and then deconstruct that, pointing out the ways in which this cool veneer is a lie meant to pull you in. To do otherwise is to claim that evil people are always easy to spot. Making your villains “uncool” implies that the people who do appear cool in real life must be fine then. That good looking, charismatic leader is great. Why would I look critically at his actions? He’s too cool to be evil.

My personal problem is not that “They made the dictator look cool and we can’t possibly expect the audience to tell the difference between someone who is truly good and someone who is just using various Cool Points to skate by” because that would be the point of such a character — the work the show needs to do. My problem is that RWBY didn’t do that work. At least, not to the extent they needed to. Rather than making Ironwood a truly heinous character (prior to Volume 7 ‘s shooting, I mean) and allowing the audience to learn how appearing cool can’t hide that, they just made him good person. Straight up. Flawed, absolutely, but no worse than any of the other character on screen, particularly post Volume 6 when our heroes are frequently putting people in danger, seizing power, telling lies, keeping secrets, and generally acting in the ways we’re supposedly meant to condemn Ironwood for. Since talk of Miles’ vid last night I’ve seen three separate “Ironwood was always bad, idk how people can miss the signs” posts and those people are half right. There 100% were signs we were meant to pick up on. The problem is RWBY then went and deconstructed those signs. Ironwood didn’t just bring an army to a peace festival, he brought an army to an event he had good reason to believe wasn’t peaceful — and he was right. Ironwood didn’t wrest control from Ozpin (using a series of checks and balances that exist for this very purpose...) because he has an obsession with being in control, he did so because he honestly believed Ozpin was putting people in danger — and he was right. Ironwood didn’t step up post-Fall because he arrogantly believes he’s the only one capable of saving Remnant, he did so because he’s actually the most qualified: a fully trained huntsmen leading an Academy (like Ozpin) with an army and knowledge of this secret war. What, was Ironwood supposed to read the script and wait for the group of dropout teenagers to arrive and save the world instead? To say nothing of how his power and responsibility are framed as sacrifices, not something he sought out. Ironwood doesn’t want to be the sole ruler here. His desperate relief at having allies again proves it. Good setup for the rise of a dictator would have been Ironwood being cagey with his information and exerting control over the group... not telling them everything, not giving them more power, not letting them keep the Lamp, not taking arrest off the table so as to keep them in line, and generally doing the opposite of everything he did do to share that responsibility and power. RWBY got very good at giving us the first half of these red flags — he has an army, he’s stubborn, he’s hurting Mantle, etc. — but then time and time again introduced a context that changed that flag dramatically: they are fighting literal monsters, he’s no more stubborn than our title character, hurting Mantle is a consequence of a plan he thinks will help the whole world and our heroes back this. Those who insist that Ironwood was 100% a villain in the making (or a villain already) prior to shooting Oscar are working from their assumption of what his archetype represents, not what RT actually put on screen. Because RT is just really bad at writing a dictator character. They didn’t have the skill to manage someone who only appeared good on the surface, let alone a character with the complex nuance of wielding “coolness” to their advantage, which is why in Volume 8 they had to resort to cartoon villainy with literal, evil spotlights. It’s not that the audience is too dumb to pick up on those red flags, it’s that RT couldn’t manage to plant them without continually introducing valid justifications. You can’t say, “Bringing an army is a bad thing. Look at this dictator coding!” without me going, “Yeah, except in the fictional world you created an army does not represent the problems it does in our real life societies. This isn’t a guy amassing soldiers to go after oil, he’s trying to protect people from monsters. Not even metaphoric monsters acting as stand-ins for a minority group. Literal, evil monsters!” RWBY ignores its own context and a good chunk of the fandom ignored it too.

The problem with that (besides the general frustration of someone ignoring parts of canon to forward a particular reading) is that the fandom’s go-to claim is that everything is meaningful — and it’s a reading the writers very much support. Fans do not, as the above attests, push for a simple reading of, “Don’t think too hard about it. Just take the surface reading and run with it” which, while still frustrating, would have at least been a valid stance. Rather, they insist very strongly that nuance and depth are what drive the show. From the song lyrics to a tiny detail in the opening, everything is important and if you don’t accept that then you can’t appreciate RWBY’s complexity.

“Okay,” I said. “Then in that case Ironwood coming around to Ozpin’s position is meaningful too? Glynda — one of our best and most faultless characters — supporting him is meaningful? Flipping his gun, defending Weiss, Qrow writing to him, the group working with him for months on end... all of it is meaningful to his characterization? You said so yourself.”

“No, no, no,” comes the reply. “He’s just bad. But he’s also nuanced. He’s tricked you into thinking he’s a good person by acting kind sometimes, by getting support sometimes, but none of that is true. His actions are what matter and his actions are simplistically bad.”

“Ohhhh. So then does that mean this story is really about the creation of a villain?”

“Huh?”

“Well, Ruby. She’s ‘nuanced’ in the same way. She acts kind sometimes and gets support, but her actions are terrible. She endangered an entire city because she couldn’t wait to see if Ironwood got his letter. She condemned Ozpin for keeping secrets about Salem and then kept those same secrets just two days later. When the kingdom was under attack she sat around drinking tea, crying on a staircase, just hoping someone would come fix things for her — all while actively sabotaging the one person who was trying to save people, even if that action seems silly to us (let’s fly really high). So if we’re looking at the impact of someone’s actions outside of their intent, as we just did with Ironwood, then she’s a bad guy too, yeah?”

“No! She’s the hero!”

“... these characters don’t know she’s the hero from a meta perspective. If we’re supposed to judge the meaning of RWBY based on these details — ”

“But it’s not just the details. It’s also the allusions. Everyone in RWBY is based on another person or character. It’s very complex and that inspiration drives their story, so if you don’t have that information it’s no surprise you’re confused. For example, this is why Penny had to get a human body. That’s what happened to Pinocchio!”

“Oh! So then Ironwood is destined to be a good guy!”

“What?”

“Well, you just said the allusions drive their stories, right? The whole point of the Tin Man is that he always had a heart and just needed to realize that. So clearly — “

“No! He’s supposed to be a classic dictator, he’s only bad!”

And ‘round and ‘round we go. RWBY’s writing is atrocious yet the fandom pushes this narrative that it’s all a complex, multi-layered story that requires taking every part into account to understand the “real” message... but when you try to do that with certain characters like Ozpin and Ironwood it’s, “No, actually, they’re just simple archetypes of Bad Men.” Nuance exists for the bees, but not other ships. It exists for the characters fans like, but not the ones they don’t. And RWBY’s inspirations have to predict the ending for this character... but not that other character. It’s a nonsense grab bag!

Fans are right that Ironwood had a lot of red flags to set up this downfall. Fans are also right that those red flags were severely undercut, thus reversing their impact. Fans are right that Ironwood becomes a 100% bad guy who kills because he can and threatens to bomb a city. Fans are also right that this characterization feels absurd for Ironwood, both in terms of his morality and his intelligence (how does bombing Mantle help you now??) Ironwood is badly written. He was badly written in 7 and 8, if he was always meant to be a dictator in the making then he was badly written in 2-6, and he’s conclusively badly written when it comes to lacking a backstory and a canonical semblance — two things are are supposedly driving all of this characterization. That’s the answer: not that he’s good, or bad, but that RWBY can’t write a consistent character, let alone a nuanced one, so it’s no surprise the fandom can’t decide on anything. What’s there to decide on? It’s that nonsense grab bag. In a different show I think making the dictator appear cool would be a crucial bit of commentary, but RWBY doesn’t have the skill to pull that off.

#rwby #rwde #mymetas #Anonymous

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nonbinaryhatboxghost · 3 years

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So, I finished watching Star Trek: Voyager. (spoilers throughout)

I started watching the show a couple of years ago, and I remember being impressed at how solid its pilot was. Star Trek shows (in my experience) have a history of starting out a bit rough before figuring themselves out, and it felt like Voyager had a pretty solid identity figured out right from the get-go.

But while I have loved watching the show as a whole, it felt like it went through multiple identity crises along the way.

It’s frustrating because the show contains the best depiction of the weight of being in the captain’s chair out of any Star Trek story I have ever seen. Janeway herself is just a great character in general, but getting moments like the finale of “Tuvix” or literally any scene in “Year of Hell” go much further in depicting the effect of leadership on our lead character than one would expect in a Trek show.

Over the course of my viewing of Voyager, I noticed that I tended to respond more to darker episodes than others. “Meld”, in which Tuvok mind-melds with a serial killer Betazoid played by the great Brad Dourif, is one example. “Mortal Coil”, in which Neelix experiences a crisis of faith after a death experience, is another favorite. And while I am indeed a sucker for a quality dark Trek story, the main reason that I believe I favored these kinds of episodes was because they felt like they had an impact on the characters.

Most of the blockbuster two-parters over the course of the show didn’t really stick with me, despite some very fun premises. And it’s because, with the exception of “Scorpion”, most of these two-parters tended to resolve in a way that completely undid any semblance of consequence on future episodes.

The most egregious example of this is the ending of “Year of Hell”, a two-parter that began development as a premise for the entirety of Season 4, but was rejected by producer Rick Berman and downgraded to two-parter instead. While I had pacing issues with the episodes due to sensing the abbreviated nature of a lot of the subplots, I overall really liked the story and seeing the crew of Voyager having to endure so much. Not because I wanted to see them suffer, but because I wanted to see stories that conveyed their journey home would have an impact on them. So when “Year of Hell” ends with a timeline reset that completely eradicates all of the events of the two-parter, I felt cheated. Because it is a cheat.

When Voyager did a similar time travel reset for their 100th episode, “Timeless”, in which a future Chakotay and Harry pull some shenanigans to prevent Voyager from crashing into an ice planet, that story successfully had its cake and ate it by having our present-day crew be aware of the future Harry and Chakotay’s actions. The episode ends with a shocked present-day Harry watching a video message from his now-dead future self.

When I finally got around to the series finale, “Endgame”, all I knew to expect was another time travel story. I have no issues with time travel in Star Trek. It’s possibly overused, but I never get tired of it because more often than not, Trek knows how to find the fun in whichever story they use that device in. I enjoyed the first half of “Endgame” and its depiction of our crew’s future lives back on Earth. I liked seeing Admiral Janeway go rogue in order to time travel back to the Voyager crew that we’ve been following throughout most of the show. And as purposely-but-still-strangely jarring as it was to see Admiral Janeway try to prioritize Captain Janeway and the crew over defeating the Borg, I really liked their scenes together as well as Admiral Janeway’s confrontation, defeat, and death with the Borg Queen. (who is suddenly played by Alice Krige again in the finale after being played by Susanna Thompson in previous Voyager episodes. I was happy to see her but a bit confused after the show seemed to indicate that Thompson was meant to be Borg Queen 2.0, only to have our original Queen from First Contact return)

Then the last few minutes happen. The Borg are quickly dispatched, Voyager makes it back to the Alpha Quadrant, and the show ends with them blowing up a Borg Sphere and saying “hello” to the Starfleet ships waiting for them. There is barely any time devoted to the impact of arriving home on the crew because it happens so suddenly. And as much as Mulgrew does to sell “Set a course for home” as the final line... it falls flat.

I suspect that the reasoning for the abrupt ending is that the writers thought depicting the future older versions of the crew on Earth would serve as closure for our cast of characters. But it doesn’t work because the whole premise of the finale centers on Admiral Janeway undoing that future so she can save the lives of Seven of Nine and Chakotay, who are dead in this depicted future.

During one of Admiral and Captain Janeways’ scenes together, they are debating whether to use the Borg space tunnels to get home faster, or if they should destroy the tunnels to keep the Borg from being able to get around space. Then Captain Janeway proposes that there’s a way for them to “have our cake and eat it, too.”

Despite the convenience of this final plot, one that is explicitly identified as such by that line, the finale could still have stuck the landing if we saw or felt the impact of arriving home on the Voyager crew that we have been following for seven seasons. As messy as the show sometimes got, and as underserved as some characters became after the show introduced Seven of Nine (which confuses me because the writers did such a good initial job of utilizing that character to create new dynamics with the cast), this cast had earned and deserved a depiction of their arrival home. And we never got that.

Tom Paris is my least favorite character on the show. It has nothing to do with Robert Duncan McNeill’s performance, it’s just that the character never felt particularly developed beyond his initial characterization for me. His best material, in my opinion, was in “Lineage” when Tom comforts and assures B’Elanna that he will never leave her and that he wants their children to inherit their mother’s Klingon heritage. But one thread throughout the course of the show that seemed so straightforward of a payoff to save for the finale was Tom’s reunion with his father.

Tom talks frequently over the course of the show about his strained relationship with his Admiral dad. Then once Voyager is able to establish contact with the Alpha Quadrant (another development I had mixed feelings on because it diminishes the premise of the show by minimizing the ship’s isolation), we get introduced to Admiral Paris and he becomes a recurring character. We even get a moment where he expresses his love for Tom and how much he misses him. And while we do see Tom’s reaction to this, this huge character moment isn’t a direct interaction between these two characters. So naturally you would assume that their reunion, and likely reconciliation as father and son, would be shown once Voyager returns to Earth in the finale.

But that doesn’t happen.

Even though Admiral Paris is in the finale, that reunion setup is just not payed off in any way.

We also don’t get to see Tuvok reunited with his family.

Or Seven of Nine’s first impressions of Earth or her meeting any of her relatives.

Or any indication of what our former Maquis crewmembers’ reception by Starfleet would be.

Strangely, the only satisfying character sendoff of the show is Neelix, who in an earlier episode leaves to be with a colony of his own people and serve as Starfleet’s Delta Quadrant ambassador. His goodbye to the crew is a beautifully simple scene of him walking to his ship and passing by the entire crew, who are assembled along the hallway to see him off. And we even get a payoff to his friendship with Tuvok when Tuvok briefly taps his toes as a farewell gesture to Neelix.

Neelix started as the show’s most grating character, irritatingly cheerful and toxically possessive of Kes. By the time the show ended, he had become a well-rounded and essential presence. His traumas of losing his faith and family, as well as his insecurities around his role in the crew, were well developed over the course of the show.

In a way, the finale was a perfect example of the show. The premise was solid, and the cast was totally game and performed it to the best of their ability. But when it came down to conveying any impact that this episode, or the series in its entirety, would have on its characters... the finale just sidesteps that and ends abruptly.

Janeway, Seven of Nine, Chakotay, B’Elanna, Tuvok, Harry, Tom, Kes, and The Doctor all deserved better.

#kyle rants #star trek: voyager #star trek voyager #star trek

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inkmyname · 3 years

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The Ember Island Players: performing toxic masculinity and narrative complicity in propagating misogyny

Initially I wasn’t going to respond to concerns about Katara’s racist/misogynistic portrayal in the Ember Island Players with anything more than snarky tags, but apparently I can’t keep my mouth shut, so I’m posting my response as a standalone meta about how the writers’ insistence on creating drama for drama’s sake leads them to--in lieu of actual character development--fall back on lazy narrative shortcuts whereby a performance of toxic masculinity against a gendered heternormative background is used to create tension in a romantic relationship, presumably with the goal of keeping the audience invested.

The Ember Island Players is problematic for a lot of reasons, not least of which is the pervasive tone-deaf misogyny, including racialized misogyny, directed at Katara. There’s a lot of meta on this, so I’d like to focus on something different: Aang’s relationship with gender and romantic attachments.

Aang seems so uncharacteristically chagrined the whole episode: “I’m not a woman!” Based on his previous characterization up to this point:

The Fortuneteller. This is the same Aang who makes a necklace for Katara when she loses her mother’s. Observe how he responds to Sokka’s jibe about jewelry-making, which can be seen as a feminine pursuit: Sokka: Great, Aang. Maybe instead of saving the world, you can go into the jewelry-making business. Aang: I don’t see why I can’t do both. Femininity isn’t presented as being mutually exclusive with narrative pursuits like saving the world which have traditionally centered male protagonists (especially if we take the entire canon of anything every written in any genre that’s not specifically, say, something like shoujo or jounen which are directed and young girls and women, the narrative focus on male personalities is overwhelming).

The Warriors of Kyoshi. Oh, and this is the same Aang that dressed up in full Kyoshi gear, kabuki makeup and all, without complaint. Why would he? After all, she was him in a past life. (There’s a whole meta here about gender-critical analysis of kabuki productions where male actors typically assumed female roles and how Avatar both takes inspiration from this real-life kernel and subverts it in Rise of Kyoshi where Kyoshi’s signature look is not only an homage to her parental heritage but also a reimagining of who can inhabit what roles. Her legacy, though imperfect, is also notably feminist, taking face paint worn typically by men IRL and expanding it into war paint for women warriors.) (There’s also great headcanon-adjacent meta here about gender non-conformity and non-binary identities in Avatar. Avatar was not overtly explicit about its feminist or gender-progressive mindset outside of episodes like The Warriors of Kyoshi or The Waterbending Master, but it was still way ahead of its time. If anyone was to be presented or headcanoned in such a way, it would be the Avatar who’s lived a thousand lives, inhabiting a thousand skins and a thousand identities, including gender identities. There’s also cool crossover meta here about the Legend of Korra depicting a female Avatar in Korra with masculine tendencies and visible muscle vs Aang as a male Avatar with a gentler pacifistic spirit and gender nonconforming tendencies.)

The Cave of Two Lovers. Aang wears a freaking flower crown and is generally wholesome and adorable, even leading up to the “let’s kiss lest we die” scene with Katara. He’s not pushy or overly concerned with appearing masculine and it is in fact Katara who suggests the kiss and Aang makes a fool of himself. From the transcript: Katara [Shyly, blushing.] Well, what if we … kissed? Aang [Very surprised.] Us … kissing‌? Katara See? It was a crazy idea. Aang [Dreamily.] Us … kissing … Katara [Fake-jokingly.] Us kissing. What was I thinking? Can you imagine that‌? Aang [Fake-jokingly.] Yeah. [Awkwardly laughs.] I definitely wouldn’t want to kiss you! [Beat.] Katara [Insulted.] Oh, well! I didn’t realize it was such a horrible option. [Angrily.] Sorry I suggested it! Aang [Realizing his mistake.] No, no, I mean … if there was a choice between kissing you and dying … Katara [Disgusted.] Ugh! Aang [Desperately.] What? I’m saying is I would rather kiss you than die - that’s a compliment. Katara [Enraged.] Well, I’m not sure which I’d rather do! [Slams the torch into his hand and storms away.] Aang [Miserably.] What is wrong with me … Aang, sweetie, this is not what you say to a girl you want to kiss, but generally, this is Wholesome™ and narratively, this is Good™. Eventually, they do kiss and that’s perfectly acceptable because there’s a whole conversation beforehand with humorous romantic framing. There’s consent and communication and initiative by the female protagonist. So solid A on the sensitive writing.

General Air Nomad culture. We don’t get a lot of Air Nomad culture in the show (and what little we do get what presented in such a misguided way, especially the whole commitment to forgiveness/pacifism which was handled in such an amateur black-and-white way from a writing perspective in season 3). But I digress. I really, really don’t think that Air Nomads who were so concerned with the spiritual side of bending and general existence had stringent notions of gender and romantic relationships–at the very least, they had very different notions of these issues compared to, say, the Northern Water Tribe. Canonically, even though AN philosophy emphasized detachment, Air Nomads practiced free love. Same-gender romance was freely accepted unlike in the homophobic Earth Kingdom (which even Kyoshi, a bisexual woman, wasn’t able to change) and the militant Fire Nation (Sozin outlawed homosexuality after declaring world war, essentially). And though the temples were gender-segregated, it seems that the burden of raising children fell to the entire community instead of just the women. Both male and female Air Nomads are revered. In the case of the former, Guru Laghima who unlocked the power of flight through achieving complete detachment from the material world. And in the case of the latter, Avatar Yangchen, who has statues everywhere because she came to be revered as a deity not just among Air Nomads but in the physical world in general. Nowhere in Air Nomad philosophy is the concept of gender, romance, love, sexuality, relationships etc. etc. tainted with jealousy and possessiveness (especially towards women) or rigid binary heternormativity.

So this was Aang for the better part of the first half of the series. Not overly concerned with gender roles. Pretty much fumbling his way through his first crush like a lovesick puppy and it’s all very wholesome. Supposedly a classic product of Air Nomad upbringing.

Meanwhile, Aang in EIP:

Checks out Katara’s butt as she’s sitting down.

Gets mad at being portrayed by a woman.

Accuses Katara of being the racialized misogynistic version of herself depicted on stage ([sarcastically]“Yeah, that’s not you at all.”).

Nods in agreement when the misogynistic stage production of Katara presents her as the “Avatar’s girl.”

Unable to differentiate between fiction and reality and puts the onus on Katara to do the emotional labor to justify something she never said (”Katara, did you really mean what you said in there? On stage, when you said I was just like a … brother to you, and you didn’t have feelings for me.”)

Assumes they would just… fall into a relationship… just because he forcibly kissed her at the invasion and again pressures Katara to do the emotional labor to justify why their relationship is not how he wants it (“But it’s true, isn’t it? We kissed at the Invasion, and I thought we were gonna be together. But we’re not.” / “Aang, I don’t know.” / “Why don’t you know?”)

Forces a non-consensual kiss on her even though “I just said I was confused!”

So, there’s so many things wrong with this, most of which are a laundry list of behaviors typical of toxic masculinity:

Ogling

Outdated misogynistic humor (what’s wrong with being a woman?)

Verbal abuse

Offloading emotional labor

Gaslighting

Pressuring a potential romantic partner

Lack of direct communication about romantic desires

Lack of sensitivity

Lack of active listening

Lack of emotional intelligence and empathy

Lack of consent and sexual assault

I could go on and on.

My question is Where and when did he learn these toxic behaviors? What happened to the wholesome boy making necklaces, wearing flower crowns, and generally being adorable in a kid with a first crush kind of way when it comes to romance?

Now, you can argue that EIP players Aang has been through a lot, including being shot by lightning and actually dying, and after the failed invasion, he’s stressed out with the weight of the world on his shoulders and maybe not expressing himself or his desires in the best way and taking out all of his frustrations on Katara.

Except… that is all just conjecture because the actual writing of the show doesn’t put in the hard work and make those connections. Instead, they fall back on misogynistic tropes and toxic heternormative romance tropes and a forced love triangle subtext and they just, to put it politely, fuck it up, two and a half seasons’ worth of work, gone, in the space of one episode. And even if it weren’t conjecture, it would still be wrong of Aang to act the way he did.

Let’s list Aang and Katara’s interaction in relation to each other in season 3:

The Headband. “Don’t worry about them. It’s just you and me right now,” Aang says as he pulls Katara into a dance. I have qualms about the writing of this episode: the creators wasted a golden opportunity to flesh out the Air Nomad genocide because they were too busy playing footloose in a cave, they wrote Katara–the same Katara would said fuck you to Pakku, freed enslaved earthbenders from a Fire Navy prison, and became a spirit goddess ecoterrorist to help a village in an enemy nation–as uncharacteristically shy just so Aang could sweep in and pull her into a dance. But like fine, whatever. It’s cute and really well-chreographed and there’s actually appropriate romantic framing here for once and at the end of the dance, look at Katara’s face–she’s happy! Positive Kataang interaction, and I don’t actually mind it. 7/10.

The Day of Black Sun Pt.1. He forces a kiss on her on the mouth, taking her completely by surprise. A chaste kiss on the cheek and a wistful pining last look and “Be safe” might have been acceptable, but given Katara’s shocked and uncomfortable body language, the kiss on the mouth was not. Worse yet, the show just… forgets… to follow up on it for several episodes and when it’s brought up again, it’s used as a sledgehammer to punish Katara for not magically being with Aang. 0/10.

The Painted Lady. Let’s look at the transcript: Katara [Using a disguised voice.] Well, hello Avatar. I wish I could talk, but I am very busy. Aang Yeah, me too. I hate that. [Looks at Katara’s face from behind the veil.] You know, you’re really pretty, for a spirit. I don’t meet too many spirits, but the ones I do meet, not very attractive. [Looks at Katara suspiciously. Tries to look under the hat.] Katara [Giggles nervously.] Thank you, but- Aang You seem familiar too. Katara A lot of people say that. Aang [Suspicious.] No, you really seem familiar. Katara Look, I really should get going. [Covers her face and runs, but Aang uses his airbending and blasts her hat up into the air, exposing her.] Aang Katara? Katara [Guiltily.] Hi, Aang. Aang [Shocked.] You’re the Painted Lady? [Pointing at Katara.] But how?Katara I wasn’t her at first, I was just trying to help the village. [Takes her hat off.] But since everyone thought that’s who I was anyway, I guess I just kinda became her. [Drops her hat on the ground.] Aang So you’ve been sneaking out at night? Wait, is Appa even sick?Katara He might be sick of the purple berries I’ve been feeding him, but other than that he’s fine! Aang I can’t believe you lied to everyone, so you could help these people. Katara I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t have … Aang [Happily.] No, I think it’s great! You’re like a secret hero! Katara Well, if you wanna help, there’s one more thing I have to do. Aang gives her a curious look. Cut to the Fire Nation factory. Aang and Katara run along the river’s edge toward it. Aang looks at the polluted water. Aang You wanna destroy this factory? Katara Yes. Sokka was just kidding, but he was right. Getting rid of this factory is the only way to help these people permanently. He helps her blow up the Fire Nation smelting plant! Yes, he does call her pretty, but more importantly, this is one of the few times he acknowledges her faults (lying, deception, putting the mission at risk to help the enemy nation etc.) and still thinks she’s so fucking cool. He calls her a secret hero! There’s a lot of admiration and support here from Aang. He’s raising up Katara (instead of putting her down as in EIP) not because he sees her as a potential love interest but because he admires her and her compassion! This is great. Solid wholesome Kataang interaction. 10/10. But all good things must come to an end…

The Southern Raiders. I’m not going to spend too much time on this because there’s a million pieces of meta on this episode. He’s completely out of line asking Katara to be forgive her mother’s killer, the source of her greatest trauma as a victim of targeted ethnic cleansing. Given that he’s a victim of ethnic genocide himself, although he personally wasn’t there for it/didn’t actually witness it unlike Katara, he should have understood. He does say “You need to face this man,” which is good and supportive and he should have stopped there, because he continues on to say, “But when you do, please don’t choose revenge. Let your anger out, and then let it go. Forgive him.” Stop. Stop stop stop. No one should tell a traumatized victim of ethnic cleansing how to deal with their trauma. By the end of the episode, Katara doesn’t kill him–but she crafts a third path as the conclusion to her hero’s journey and it is not the path of forgiveness that Aang preaches. Ironically, it is Zuko, who also confronts Ozai, the source of his greatest trauma, who never tells Katara what to do but follows her lead instead: even though he redirects lightning at Ozai and could have killed him, he doesn’t go through with it. He understands Katara and he understands that she needs to this. Kataang interaction rating: 0/10.

So that’s where we are with Aang and Katara in Ember Island Players. Some positive interactions that are appropriately romantically framed and some that are just wholesome and good… but all ruined by forced kissing and moralizing about Katara’s trauma instead of offering understanding. So that still doesn’t answer when Aang would have learned all of the toxic masculine/heternormative behaviors he displayed in The Ember Islands Players.

The only answer, I’m forced to conclude, is bad fucking writing, where the creators were not only tone-deaf in portraying Katara in a racist/misogynistic way or, you know, in writing solely for the male gaze because fuck half the audience, I guess, but they just wanted to create drama for drama’s sake. They completely disrespected their female lead and I would argue they disrespected Aang’s character too in making him a stereotypical self-insert Gary Stu who displays toxic masculine behavior without consequences because that’s what’s expected of a toxic heternormative romantic plot device.

And worse yet, they never follow up on this, just like with the kiss at the Invasion. In the last five minutes of the finale, Katara looks up at him with admiration for saving the world and then kisses him. This is not only a missed opportunity for character development for Aang, but also a big fuck you to the female audience because the message is clear: the guy gets the girl as a trophy for saving the world, and fuck input from the female half of the partnership because that’s just not important and is not worthy of screentime. But I guess screentime dedicated to displaying toxic masculine/heternormative behaviors without ever condemning such behavior as a follow-up is just fine! :)))

If the EIP was supposed to make an argument for Kataang, then it failed. but more important:

By the show’s own high standards, The Ember Island Players is a failed episode, full of bad writing and worse characterization. For a show that was so ahead of its time, this episode is a narrative black mark, a failure of progressive representation and a disservice to its main characters.

There’s some wholesome Sukka and Zuko/Toph interaction, but even that doesn’t manage to save this episode, especially given there’s no resolution to the central conflict: the relationship between Aang and Katara. The entire unnecessarily OOC and forced Kataang drama drags it down.

We know Aang is capable of lifting up Katara and being supportive of her, as he was in episodes prior. We could have had honest, supportive, and open dialogue between Aang and Katara that actually followed up on the Invasion kiss, with Aang clearly expressing what he wants, Katara expressing that maybe she didn’t want that right now, and Aang completely respecting that and them hugging at the end because their friendship/connection is much more profound than pre-teen romance. This is an instance where Aang could have chosen to center Katara’s feelings, for once, instead of his own out of selfless love. If this happened, I would have been okay with a Kataang ending. But that isn’t what we got, obviously.

Part of what appealed to me about Aang as a male protagonist in media aimed at young audiences is that he–at least initially–did not start out as a toxic self-insert Gary Stu lifted from every problematic heternormative romance film ever. In fact, given his playful trickster archetype, general kindness/gentleness, and his stance against violence (a typically masculine trait), he both subverted expectations of and expanded the boundaries of what a male protagonist in children’s media can look like. Unfortunately, the creators don’t go all the way with Aang. In fact, they took a step back with his portrayal in The Ember Island Players, where the creators not only rely on misogynistic tropes to create drama but also make him complicit in propagating said misogyny. And that’s just a damn shame because we could have had a wholesome Kataang storyline and a sensitive male protagonist who cares not about your outdated gender roles and respects his partner’s autonomy!

#atla #aang #katara #kataang #eip #meta #my meta #aang deserved better #katara deserved better #queer #heteronormativity #toxic masculinity #misogyny #feminist criticism #kataang critical #but only in the sense that the writers messed it up #nothing against kataang personally

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diyeoracha · 3 years

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fanfic recommendations

for @kittensocute bc i heard “atsukita” and “iwaoi” in reference to fanfiction and i am There

i took your “i love slow burn or slow build fics... so i like relatively shorter burn fics (20-30k). If its a 10k oneshot slow burn hELL SIGN ME UP” and absolutely ran with it.

i listed my fav iwaoi fics (17) with a longer word count (longest is 80k) that are all mostly either canon compliant or divergent with only two straight up AUs. none of them feature heavy nsfw content and most if not all are tagged as friends to lovers lmao. feel free to read the my thoughts or just go into them blind!! and they’re all in order of how much I absolutely adore them :^)

now atsukita is not a big ship *sobs* but here are some of my favorite fics (7) of them! a lot of them are shorter bc i guess that’s just. what happens when it’s a small ship LOL.

the formatting in this is fucked if you open it from ur dash but if it’s on my actual blog it should be fine!

Iwaoi

the courtship ritual of the hercules beetle

Word count: 66k

thoughts: my absolute absolute absolute favorite iwaoi fic. the characterization, the fact that oikawa’s a bastard but because he and iwaizumi are older (late 20s i believe), it feels more realistic and sad rather than oikawa being a bitch for the sake of it. spoiler alert it’s slow burn and pining and mostly oikawa not realizing his feelings. this world building is pretty cool bc iwaizumi is the professional player while oikawa is an entomology professor! also i love non-linear narratives bc of This fic. there’s mutual pining in this fic but it’s really really really subtle to the point where you dont even know if oikawa likes iwa. this made me cry like twice.

sunset towns

Word count: 33k

Summary: In the summer of 2020, Oikawa Tooru returns home from his first successful stint as captain of Japan’s national volleyball team. In one hand, he holds the undisputed weight of an Olympic medal, and in the other, his unresolved feelings for a childhood best friend.

thoughts: the tone in this is So similar to the courtship ritual that I liken this as an alternate story even though it’s still oikawa’s pov. professional player oikawa and regular guy iwaizumi and oikawa is just. bumming around at iwaizumi’s place and naturally he messes up but things happen.

told before and told again

word count: 4k

thoughts: i looked through literally all the tags i could’ve thought of for this and nearly cried when i found it agian. outsider POV!!

In damp earth my body

Word count: 15k

Summary: Onscreen, the nation’s favorite setter has arranged himself so that he’s bowing, forehead pressed to the court, like he’s thanking everyone for their kindness thus far, like he’s asking for forgiveness. Hajime thinks: shit, it’s really happening

thoughts: oikawa retires and moves in with iwaizumi and they blur the line between roommates/best friends and being fwb. this is an iwaizumi pov and the pining is obvious on his end. as a iwa stan the tone made me feel weird bc it makes it seem like iwa cares more abt oikawa than he cares abt himself but. its a good fic

i grew up, you grew down

word count: 19k

thoughts: this is also SO funny bc basically oikawa retires and moves in with iwaizumi and becomes his stay at home wife and a bunch of shit happens like people think that oikawa is dating ushijima and oikawa basically loses it every time. here’s one of my favorite quotes:

“Oikawa also bought a new ultra-strength vacuum cleaner he’d decided to name Ushiwaka out of sheer spite, because it sucked all the air right out of the room. Iwa-chan didn’t think the joke was that funny when Tooru told him, which was frankly very hurtful and insensitive.”

Mint

Word count: 19k

thoughts: iwaizumi is moving and oikawa planned a perfect last hangout and it goes to shit featuring matsuhana. oikawa pov where he pines more than iwa which is something i can get behind!! and this was written in 2015 and iwa’s moving bc of a sports medicine program so iwaizumi stans know and love him sm ;;

Almost a Stranger

Word count: 16k

thoughts: same premise as mint LOL except they’re on a trip together and there’s more non-linear narrative!! this one is a little more mature in tone than mint i would say (funny how people just like splitting them up and throwing them in different countries huh)

with every second that you could give

Word count: 9k

Summary: The journey of Iwaizumi and Oikawa going for gold.

Quote: He knows they’re too close. Iwaizumi knows it too, and they both decided to move in together anyway.

thoughts: iwaoi roommates and they’re both obviously and really pine-y for each other and everyone sees it but them. srsly. they’re sleeping in the same bed. like my god

Lost in Translation

Word count: 9k

Summary: Because misfortune come in threes, Iwaizumi Hajime starts his Thursday having a screaming fight with Shittykawa, spends his lunch break listening to the UCI women’s volleyball team gossiping about how Ushijima Wakatoshi had gone public about his longtime love affair with Oikawa Tooru, and closes out the day by drunkenly dropping his phone into a sewer grate.

thoughts: so funny. so sososoosso genuinely funny. the tone is so snappy and iwaizumi honestly just sounds like a confused teenager (which he is in this) and it gets extra points for including a lot of american culture that a lot of the other iwaoi college au ones don’t include for like. obvious reasons lol.

Something Borrowed

Word count: 16k

Summary: In which Oikawa and Iwaizumi have always been a foregone conclusion to everyone else, but a massive, unanswered question to one another.

thoughts: iwaoi roommates thats abo but it’s like. mentioned twice. whiny and possessive oikawa makes an appearance in this but it’s done really well

things that change, things that stay the same

Word count: 8k

Summary: Oikawa realizes he’s in love with his best friend; it sucks for a while. (But only for a little while.)

thoughts: high school getting together!! my second iwaoi fic ever and this one is just. so sweet. just an unsure oikawa realizing iwaizumi might be more than someone he wants as a best friend. this fic is honestly really really lovely.

galaxies, within you

Word count: 21k

Summary: Hajime and Tooru move in together at the start of university. Too bad they’re stuck with the two gremlins that haunt their apartment.

thoughts: ok this fic was so funny. theyre uni roommates and matsuhana just come fuck shit up and they all act like idiots together even though they go to different schools. and this really throws me back to university days.

Thirty Years and Change (the Games of the XXXIII Olympiad)

Word count: 19k

thoughts: pro! oikawa and iwaizumi haven’t been close for a while until oikawa invites iwaizumi to go to the games with him. there’s a lot of frustration and pining and actually talking about feelings (aka iwaizumi losing his mind and getting advice from people like akaashi)

when it starts to rain, they go inside

Word count: 33k

Summary: “Where?” starts Iwaizumi.“ My parent’s old lakehouse, silly, didn’t you hear me the first time?” OR: Oikawa takes Iwaizumi to his lakehouse for two weeks, post-graduation.

thoughts: this was actually my first iwaoi fic which is funny bc the author doesn’t even like oikawa much and i didnt even ship anything in haikyuu before i read this fic and now im in iwaoi hell. oikawa is really frustrating in this in that it’s basically a really good character analysis on how oikawa comes off as a Mean person all the time bc he’s manipulative and there’s some explicit content

shiver

Word count: 16k

Summary: Oikawa was always the brave one. Hajime just followed two paces behind.

thoughts: iwaoi roommates with oikawa admitting his feelings first back when they were in middle school and iwaizumi putting that thought on the backburner until. obviously. things happen.

Desperado

word count: 80k

thoughts: one of my favorite aus. it’s all from kyoutani’s perspective and it’s almost so au that they’re original characters (if that makes sense). basically iwaoi matsuhana are ex-grifters except iwaoi are estranged and daishou somehow brings everyone back together. excellent world building and reading the pov from someone not involved with the iwaoi drama was refreshing

sing with me a song of conquest and fate

word count: 26k

thoughts: a mythical kings au that’s just. so pretty. iwaizumi ends up becoming oikawa’s servant for some reason and the world building is a+ because you can feel the trust and frustration from both of them build

Atsukita

dreams of me and you

word count: 10k (incomplete)

my second atsukita fic that rly sent me down atskt hell ;; what is essentially post-break up when atsumu gets signed to msby and he’s just Pining and sad for the most part. but the established relationship pre-break up was written really nicely because it just fits my hc of them just being domestic and atsumu being blatantly head over heels

take me home

word count: 4k

i read this this morning and it wrecked me. domestic relationship atsukita?? sign me up

No time like the rest of my life

word count: 19k

mythology au with kita as a regular person and rest of inarizaki as fox spirits! it’s cute and the world building is absolutely lovely but it is an au so they might seem ooc but their core character values are still there

wild blue yonder

word count: 6k

literally full of similes and metaphors and it’s more of an abstract read i guess? but it’s so beautiful and soft and this is exactly how i imagine their relationship

reap and sow

word count: 8k

atsumu confesses and kita ignores him and it’s a couple years after the fact and it’s mostly just weirdly domestic almost roommate like except for the fact that atsumu makes it clear he likes kita LOL. they’re really in character for this!

weightless souls

word count: 2k

pillow talk before atsumu’s first game! the atsumu pov and voice is amazing

if we were both alone

word count: 7k

now this was actually my first atskt fic that sent me down this rare pair hell. it’s an explicit chat fic (both tropes i usually try to avoid) but atsumu types like me (except for the nsfw parts alksfjd) so i guess i like. feel appreciation LMAO.

if you do read like any of these fics pls let me know so we can discuss

♡＼(￣▽￣)／♡

#iwaoi #atsukita #i added some more on friday feb 19!

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mikanyuzu-26 · 3 years

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Is Chapter 139 of Attack on Titan being messed up deliberately?

*Views are my own. I barely post anything on social media but I feel the need to express my thoughts as a long-term AOT fan.

You need to be a genius in getting everything wrong. As a reader who has been following the series for 8 years, the frustration and disappointment the recent chapters brought me are beyond words. The series Attack on Titan has long been known for its well written plotline, with pieces of hints eventually leading to the reveal of mysteries, ranging from the identity of enemies to the origin of titan. Isayama the author is more than capable in building a story, as evidenced by the carefully arranged setups and successful characterization in 130+ chapters. Probably echoed by other readers, the story surprisingly went downhill since Chapter 124 (aka the alliance arc) when pacing becomes slow with no major progress in overall plot. Eren who is the supposedly main protagonist is nowhere to be found in most of the chapters, let alone his inner thought. The conclusion in Chapter 139 is even more confusing, showing clear disconnection with previous chapters and major characters being OOC. There are fans who are kind enough to summarize the inconsistencies.

Chinese netizens’ comment on the story quality

I would interpret the bad writing in Chapter 139 as intentional, with two possible reasons, or both: 1). To betray and hurt the readers as expressed in his interview. He is free! 2). To passively protest against a plot change by his editorial team

“I was a big fan of Game of Thrones, so I can relate to the feelings of those fans who were disappointed with how the series ended. But when I’m drawing, I’m expressing my own feelings, and I think as long as I’m doing that, my fans will be able to accept whatever ending I come up with for them”. The question is – was Isayama hinting at a GOT-like ending that expressed his true feeling? Looking at his response at this point of time, was he foreshadowing a disappointment?

Personally I am a believer of (2) – the plot was hijacked. I see the pacing issue starting from Chapter 124 as Isayama and the editorial team trying to buy time in reconstructing the plot. This is the period when multiple minor subplots (e.g. Connie’s mom, Aruani, conflicts with Yeagerists like Daz, formation of Alliance, Reiner’s mom & Annie’s dad) are introduced and closed off shortly after, while Eren is nowhere to be found.

Also note that Isayama did not even show up in the interview/live stream after the end of the manga in on Apr 10 and Apr 14, 2021. The editor represented him instead. It was also revealed in the most recent live stream that the editorial team had quite a lot of influence over the plot, in which they changed the last few pages of Chapter 139.

As many of you have already raised, early chapters already mentioned the “only way to put a final end to the cycle of revenge” is to do a full rumbling. I believe this is the first draft of the ending of the story as this idea has been expressed more than once directly out of the mouth of Eren.

The other possible change is the way of how Ymir is being freed. In earlier chapter, Eren clearly understands what Ymir has been waiting for 2000 years in Chapter 122, and this is also the reason why Eren is able to start the rumbling in the first place. The possibility of Mikasa freeing Ymir is not being introduced until Chapter 138 (or 139), and certainly comes out of nowhere as the only people outside of path who have seen Ymir are Armin and Ramzi.

How is Chapter 139 being intentionally messed up? The inconsistencies above suggest that at least two plot twists are only being decided at the very late stage of the story. • Eren’s true intention (Eren Requiem vs. full rumbling) and the reasons behind • What Ymir wants

Throughout Chapter 139, there are definitely better choice of words which even average Reddit/Twitter/Tumblr users were able to re-write in the past few days. However Isayama just somehow chose the worst way in presenting the story as if it is a shoutout to readers. The presentation also makes Chapter 139 memorable, though not in a way most have expected.

“Why Mikasa?” “Well…only Ymir knows that one…” When I reread Chapter 139, it seems to me that Isayama is not trying to shy away from admitting the plot change. The disbelief from Armin’s way of saying “Huh? Did you just say Mikasa?” is an analogy to the readers’ reaction due to the lack of interaction between Ymir and Mikasa before the last panel of Chapter 138. Eren is also drawn with a resigned expression. If this is an over interpretation of the frame, Eren’s next response “Well…only Ymir knows that one…” directly points out how the statement lacks a clear and sound reasoning. You can translate it into “Well…only [the company/my editor] knows that one…” or “Nothing I just want to throw this in”. Isayama clearly knows what he is writing and indeed “only Ymir knows that one” becomes a meme.

Also to add that prior to Chapter 139, Ymir has always been a parallel of Historia/Krista, not Mikasa, even as early as Chapter 51, but this plot was just somehow nowhere to be found eventually.

Why Rumbling? The most disastrous consequence of a plot change, from wiping all history and civilization (that has been repeated in his conversation with Historia in Chapter 130 and his internal monologue in Chapter 131) to an Eren Requiem, is that it takes away all the justification and rationale for Eren to eliminate 80% of the population in the first place. Whether or not Eren executes the rumbling and dies willingly, the world will still be in conflict and future generation will remain in the forest. If the plan is to free Ymir, a better way is probably just asking Mikasa to chop his head off. That saves humanity (Ymir likes drama, after all!).

Isayama could have easily used phrases like “I just want to move forward” but he put “I don’t know why, but…I wanted to do that…I had to”. This is also Isayama speaking from the Eren – he does not know why Eren is doing rumbling just to achieve the 80% plan. He just “had to” draw it.

“10 Years, At least!” This is probably the most debatable and dramatic part of the chapter. Eren expresses his love to Mikasa but the scene is presented in a way as if it is a kid throwing a tantrum. In addition to that there is Armin’s comment “Oh ok…I didn’t expect something that pathetic..” as if it is again, the readers’ comment. The scene is portrayed in an unbelievably comedic way, especially when you compare it with Eren’s conversation with Ramzi in Chapter 131, which is supposed to serve the same purpose in showing Eren’s human/soft side. Most importantly, freedom has always been Eren’s core value throughout the series. The outright contradiction this line shows only makes the whole idea of this panel questionable.

Character Regression Needless to say, characters’ behaviours surprisingly regress back to the first arc, wiping out all developments throughout the series. The worst thing is it even kills the hype of re-reading the manga as you know the characters never grow, after all the sufferings and hearts sacrificed. Examples include: • Eren is still a crybaby • Mikasa remains trapped by her relationship with Eren and the scarf • Historia is not living proudly for herself after the Uprising arc • Reiner sniffs Historia’s letter after going through depression and wars (there is even a petition online asking Isayama to change this! You see how problematic this is.) • Jean and the horse joke

Almost everything that could possibly go wrong is wrong in 1 chapter These are written by the man who have been writing good chapters in the past 10 years. Can you believe it is just a lack of sense?

• “Thank you. You became a mass murderer for our sake.” • The “poop” that Armin gives Eren (Isayama likes using meme right? :P) • Eren’s face when he is punched

Is this the High School AU style?

Compared to Chapter 112...You can tell the difference.

The way how the fandom views Chapter 139 is certainly very divided, but even amongst those who like it, most still think “things could have done better” (source: SNK Chapter 139 Poll), showing how awkward the style is compared to previous chapters. The inconsistencies in character portrayal and plot are too hard to ignore. It pains me to see a well-constructed and reputable series, one step away from legend even just with an average ending, closed with a chapter that almost defeats the purpose of the rest. Trust in Isayama – while he can build a legend in 10 years, he can also take it down with 1 chapter.

By the way, Levi is one of the few characters who isn’t ruined. Probably also a conscious choice.

#snk 139 #aot 139 #aot spoilers #aot analysis #attack on titan #isayama #shingeki no kyojin #eren #snk spoilers #hajime isayama #snk analysis

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ot3-watch · 3 years

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Episode 2: The Homecoming Job

How does he make seven dollars a day that doesn’t seem remotely accurate

WHAT DO THEY GOTTA DO MAN? WhAT DO THEY HAVE TO DO?

This was so skeevy. DId he get shot up by accident? Did the Castleman guys just start shooting? Like what?

This poor Doctor. She’s so great, but she really should not have said “that’s not the way the world works.” That seems like such a challenge.

This is what I mean about the continuity confusion! Why would Hardison have to call them if Leverage was set up at the end of the last episode????

Sophie’s acting in the commercial audition wasn’t terrible. Weird for an audition, but not terrible.

Eliot’s so unfazed by having a gun pointed at him, I love it.

You don’t even SEE Parker I can’t

I don’t like stuff. I like MONEY

“I’m not gonna tell a couple of known thieves what i did with a multi million dollar payout” you so smart eliot

ARE WE NOT GONNA MENTION THAT HARDISON IS UBER ARTISTICALLY TALENTED

Parker’s so excited by mundane office stuff it’s adorable

DO YOU SEE WHAT I MEAN ABOUT IT NOT SEEMING LIKE ENOUGH MONEY FOR THIS WHOLE SETUP?

Eliot’s face at the sports. Hardison building stuff for him from day 1 it’s adorable

IT’S A VERY DISTINCTIVE SOUND!!! I LOVE IT!! SO IT BEGINS

I love how it all starts out so simple, just get the money it’s fine, and then they always end up like… toppling the entire corrupt system.

Where did Parker’s shower cap go in later episodes? Like… she’s a thief. The need for a leather shower cap likely would not disappear…

SOPHIE’S DRESS I LOVE IT

...It disgusts me that they can buy congressmen AND IT”S NOT EVEN ILLEGAL!!!

LIKE I WILL NEVER UNDERSTAND WHY LOBBYING AND LARGE SUM CAMPAIGN DONATIONS ARE LEGAL

How does Eliot just… know what words have the necessary sounds?? How is he so smart? HOW IS THIS MAN A THING I’M IN LOVE

“Oh, there they are. Really loud too” I love her in this episode

I think Castleman is one of the WORST groups they’ve gone up against. Not in terms of like, bad for TV, but just in terms of them being super evil. The stolen money, the attempted murder, and things always feel even more disgusting when you include army contracters.

OH WAIT I UNDERSTAND WHY HE WAS SHOT I REMEMBER OKAY IT MAKES SENSE IT’S FINE

Did… Did Perry just grope Sophie? Are we going to just ignore that?

So, do docs and nurses really wear crocs that much? I thought good supportive sneakers would be more common

AVENGING ELIOT TO THE RESCUE!!

… where did nate just randomly find a defibrillator.

IT’S A VERY DISTINCTIVE STYLE

“...I actually hurt people… so…”

I FUCKING LOVE ELIOT SPENCER

I’m sorry, I doubt you’re reading these posts for endless heart eyes for eliot, but THAT’S JUST HOW I FEEL

SPEAKING OF HOW DOES HE LOOK SO HOT IN A DISHEVELED WHITE BUTTON DOWN

Sophie already trying to stop Nate’s drinking. Why did they just… forget to address it later? Like when he falls off the wagon in S2, no one cares anymore.

HOW IS SOPHIE SO PRETTY

Nate’s accent is terrible. Why is all their accent work terrible? WHAT DIALECT IS THAT EVEN SUPPOSED TO BE

“Those are the same signs your wife is cheating on you” Or… just the signs that someone is trying to hide something from you? Like in general??

I always feel bad about the congressman’s cancelled wood panels until i remember how he got them and the lives at stake so he can have a nice house. It’s so icky

This whole law thing is so clever but is that really how it works?

I love that Hardison is already in love with Parker. I love it.

...The only difference between Sophie and a politician is Sophie doesn’t have the authority but makes up for it with having a moral code.

“I’m sorry it’s too far away for you to punch I’m sure that really frustrates you” I fucking LOVE HIM

What’s a better ship? The OT3 or Parker/Money?

...And another IYS reference. Should I start a tally? How many episodes they mention Nate’s past with IYS or Nate’s past with Sam? How many times they show that fucking Sam clip? I’m gonna start doing that at the end I think.

“WHat is it like a creepy contest?” CUE PARKER HEART EYES I CAN’T I LOVE THEM

Is the money story real? Like did the money transfer really happen? Because it sounds like it could be real, like i wouldn’t put it past them, but i really hope its not

... So I looked it up and there’s much more money in cash per person. Nate’s full of shit. (Or the writers just got bad info but I like blaming Nate more)

Why does this security guy look like a john cena wannabe i hate it

NATE AND SOPHIE’S DiSTRACTION IS INCREDIBLE. Can you imagine if they were a real couple though, and the guard was that fucking rude to them?

ELIOT’S HAPLESS SECURITY GUARD IS SO FUKING CUTE IM DEAD

What’s a better ship, Parker/Money or Parker/Explosions

WHY IS THE CONGRESSMAN WEARING A WHOLE ASS TUXEDO???

… Knowing what I know about black men and cops… why the fuck would they have Hardison driving the truck? I’m just saying that seems like a real easy and VERY AVOIDABLE way of getting him killed.

ALTHOUGH THIS IS THE FUNNIEST HARDISON SCENE

“This is about my eth-ni-ti-city? It’s because I’m Jewish?” AS A JEW THIS MADE ME DIE LAUGHING. I COMPLETELY LOST IT THE FIRST TIME I HEARD AND IT STILL MAKES ME CRACK UP!!!!

HE’S JUST SO FUCKING FUNNY

“JUSt cause a brother likes matzah ball soup? What’s wrong with that? Sammy Davis?” I CANNOT

ELIOT IN THICK RIMMED NERD GLASSES I LOVE IT

… why did they.. Not check the container number??? I’m so confused?? WHY ARE THEY SO STUPID???

The PR stunt they’re trying to pull right now… sleazy slimy

They switched the order of the accusations… like…

“We’re gonna lead with Crap.” politicians always do

...Technically, the money is stolen? Like… I’m not gonna say they don’t deserve it? But… it’s technically stolen

ELIOT HAS SO MUCH RESPECT FOR PERRY BECAUSE HE WAS ALMOST HIM

I’M CRYING DON’T LOOK AT ME

“One more” ELIOT YOU SOFTIE

“I bought a plant” PARKER YOU SOFTIE

“What does it do?” YOU’LL FIND OUT

The cherry red tesla is so over the top i hate it. I hate sports cars though so like

OKAY SO FINAL EPISODE THOUGHTS: 7/10. Characterization was much better. They seemed like more human people. Points off for Castleman becausE as gross as it is to kill people through negligence for money, it’s so much grosser to ACTIVELY murder them for money WHILE PRETENDING TO BE A LEGITIMATE BUSINESS AND HAVE GOVERNEMNT ASSHOLES IN ON IT LIKE I’M SO FUCKING DISGUSTED. Added points for the HUMAN HEART EYES EMOJI THAT IS ELIOT SPENCER. Points off for Perry kind of assaulting sophie AND FUCKING GETTING AWAY WITH IT. Added points for Parker being adorable. THis was one of the episodes that put me on the fence about her when i wa not in love with her.

IYS count: 2/2 Sam reference count: 2/2 (for the children’s hospital donation in the beginning)

#leverage #leverage rewatch #ot3 #leverage ot3 #eliot spencer #parker #alec hardison #nathan ford #sophie devereaux #the homecoming job

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byron-von-raum · 4 years

Text

Rebodied Toy Soldier Theory

Despite having a backstory and a semi-solid characterization for the Toy Soldier there’s a lot of questions we still have about it! To be expected among this impossible group of space pirates to be confused about their backstory and what makes them tick, in this way literally, but I have a theory that could answer a lot of those pressing questions.

Warning for image of choking, implied abuse, implied sex work, and canon typical fucked up stuff, especially UDAD related

So we don’t actually know in all certainty where the Toy Soldier is from. We have a few clues to help us out, though.

1. The Toy Soldier was somewhere with very traditional English practices “She taught him how to take proper English tea and how to talk like a real officer [...]” - SotTS (The Story of the Toy Soldier)

2. It came around not long after a revolution “She once had a handsome fiance, but he had died in a long ago revolution. [...] The Toy Soldier was her favorite. He wore her fiance’s old uniform.” - SotTS

3. There is a Salvation Army or something similar on the same planet/colony

[ID: The Toy Soldier hitting a drum behind a procession of Salvation Army representatives with a sign above them reading “The Salvation Army.” An arrow points to the Toy Soldier in the back. A woman in the front tries to hand a pamphlet with a cross on it to a passerby. /END ID]

4. The planet/colony was knowledgable and within reach of the King Cole War “[...] the Toy Soldier joined the ranks of the Rose Reds and fought in the bloody conflict of the Revolution.” - SotTS

5. The planet is close enough to the City from UDAD to have products imported from there.

You may be asking, “wait, Frankie, how do you know that?” Well, my dear friends, it’s actually rather stuble, but warnings for and image of choking, although crude.

[ID: A pencil drawing of the Toy Soldier choking out a woman with long, pale hair while she sleeps. A wine bottle lays empty above her head on the pillow. /END ID]

This lady is the Angel, a woman that the Toy Soldier fell in love with, presumably before leaving its original planet. So this scene also presumably happens on that same planet. Up in the top right corner is a wine bottle that reads “Dionysus 2011″ which is a product of Dionysus back in the City.

With that information, we know that products from the City were imported to this planet/colony. Whether this planet is, in fact, Earth or maybe just a colony of Earth is unclear and not entirely important. What is important is what other products the City might have had.

Re-bodying

“Orpheus’ story isn’t unusual: a broke young musician with a dead fiance, just another life chew up by the City. This broke young musician didn’t accept that though. Didn’t care that he didn’t have the money to have mind from the Acheron rebodied, or that those as were came back wrong.” - “Hades” Ulysses Dies at Dawn

Rebodying in the City is when someone takes a mind from the Acheron and places it in a new body. Someone dead being brought back. Now, let’s go back to the start of The Story of the Toy Soldier and take another gander at that rich old lady and her clockwork collection.

[ID: An old lady in a fancy dress smoking and leading the Toy Soldier away from a group of inanimate clockworks as it looks back at them. /END ID]

The most notable part of this image, I think, is the contrast between the Toy Soldier and the other clockworks. The other clockworks stand very still with no expression and seem more like dolls than the Toy Soldier, who holds close to itself and follows, looks nervous, looks confused. From this image alone, it’s clear the Toy Soldier isn’t like the other clockworks.

“But Frankie!” I hear you cry. “There’s no evidence that the rebodied people are put in animatronic bodies! Even in one of the fictions, the other people from the City think the Toy Soldier looks odd!”

“Understandly, Narcissus now refused to have a Somnambulist in the house, and shuddered every time his eyes met the vacant gaze of one outside in the street. He was even deeply suspicious of the Toy Soldier at Dionysus’ speakeasy, despite its unconventional yet obvious sentience.” - Orpheus and Narcissus Go on a Trip to the Seaside

Well, first of all, that’s one person who finds the Toy Soldier uneasy and even then he was more concerned that it was a Somnambulist than it being a clockwork. I find that weird in of itself but that’s not exactly the point, is it? In fact, Orpheus at one point even thinks of the Toy Soldier as a strange re-bodying job.

“They’d soon promoted one of the nymphs to fill his place though: a bizarre prancing, whirring thing that would frolic and cavort for the clients’ amusement, flaunting an incongruously innocent joie de vivre. Some said it had stolen the voice of an angel, but Orpheus thought it sounded pretty human to him. It looked like another bizarre re-bodying job, although apparently it had been bought at a knockdown price from one of Dionysus’ business partners, Parsiphäe Minos, after the genius automaton designer had found it in her basement a while back.” - Orpheus, Dionysus, Muriatic Acid, and the Strange Whirring Thing

“Another strange re-bodying job?” you ask. “What other re-bodying job has Orpheus seen?”

Well, first of all, I think you’re missing the point but I’ll show you anyway.

“Orpheus had also heard recently of a new consultant based at Delphi (a strange re-bodied job by the sound of it) who would give good “moral” advice to assuage the guilt of atrocity wreakers: everything was excusable as long as the ends justified the means.” - Orpheus, Dionysus, Muriatic Acid, and the Strange Whirring Thing

What’s interesting about this is that Brian, who is referenced here, is in fact a strange re-bodied job. He was technically re-bodied into his all-metal body.

That’s beside the point. The important thing is that, although these wooden and metallic re-bodyings are strange, they are only strange. They aren’t impossible, they aren’t incredibly uncommon, and they aren’t questioned. They’re just strange. Perhaps, the technology for this type of re-bodying isn’t the most uncommon thing out there if there isn’t a body available. Perhaps, even, the bodies just look more “human” when re-bodied than the Toy Soldier or Drumbot Brian do.

So, back to the point of the imported products from the City on the Toy Soldier’s originally colony and the fact that those who are re-bodied never come back quite right, we come to the climax of the theory:

The Toy Soldier is a re-bodied version of the old lady’s dead fiance.

Let’s corral all the evidence:

1. The old lady favors the Toy Soldier and acted like it was her dead fiance, even going as far as to have the Toy Soldier say things like “I love you” to her

“Sometimes she made him say things he didn’t understand.” - SotTS

[ID: A pencil drawing of a spilled teacup, a thrown high hell, and a shattered tea saucer at the foot of a chair. There’s a speech bubble that reads “I love you.” /END ID]

2. Products were imported to this planet from the City

3. Re-bodying jobs that look like Drumbot Brian or the Toy Soldier are only considered “strange” (at least by Orpheus)

4. No one in the City entirely thought the Toy Soldier as odd except for looking re-bodied

Conclusion: The Toy Soldier is a re-bodied version of the old woman’s fiance after he died in the revolution. Liking clockworks, the old lady had her re-bodied fiance look like a clockwork. The Toy Soldier didn’t come back quite right, which is common for a re-bodying job. Frustrated with this, the old lady taught the Toy Soldier things that would make it more similar to her dead fiance like how to compliment her, what to say to sound like a real officer, and to tell her it loves her.

Now, this has a lot of implications in a lot of directions that you are free to speculate on and I would also love to hear other people’s input. Either way, thanks for reading my inane theory and thanks to the people in the various Discord servers I’m in for helping me with this!

#the toy soldier #the mechanisms #the story of the toy soldier #orpheus dionysus muriatic acid and the strange whirring things #orpheus and narcissus go to the seaside #jessica law #because she wrote these I'm pretty sure #and also it's her art #lisping

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elle-imagines · 4 years

Note

What are your headcanons of being in a relationship with Kisuke Urahara SFW/NSFW?

Sure thing! He’s such a hard character for me to write for, so I hope there is some semblance of good characterization. Enjoy :)

SFW

Definitely a man content with you and the relationship you both share. He is very laid-back and willing to give you time and space when you need it. No questions about who you hang out with or where you were a few nights ago. He’s Kisuke. He could sniff out motives and lies very easily, and that’s something he wouldn’t even feel the need to do with you. Kisuke has a quiet confidence about him. It does well at ensuring you will be safe and okay when you’re around him. It takes a lot to get him upset, therefore communication flows easily between you two.

He’s not one to take the lead most times and will follow along with what you’d like to do regarding most things. He does not require a lot to be happy with you, only your company and maybe a few indulgences here and there.

I’m sure his hands are used to giving certain kitties scratches behind the ears, so expect plenty of pats, ruffles, and languid strokes. It could be a pat on your head after you do something “cute” or a leisurely caress against your thigh as you both relax in the evening. He may seem like he isn’t touchy, but he makes sure you feel his presence through his hands throughout the day.

Yes, he has a habit of his hands stray too far.

Speaking of habits, he has a bad habit of ignoring conflict between you two. He will focus on his work, making sure the shop is running properly, or giving you too much space. People skills are not an expertise he likes to indulge in, so he may respond to conflict by trying to fix the problem instead of giving the support and attention you need.

Kisuke knows more about you than he lets on. He’s a great listener and can pick up on your thoughts without much effort. What is unsaid is heard by him. What you wish to share is something he may have already guessed. Kisuke, although seemingly distraced at times, can anticipate your needs and help you before you may even notice. Forgot to charge your phone? It’s plugged in. Have something on your mind? He will sit beside you silently, ready to listen. Bored? He has a few ideas for you… ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°).

With you, he feels less lost and different from those around him. He appreciates and even seeks out your eccentricities or strange habits and collections. No part of him is attracted to what is normative. He finds most things boring, but every aspect of you grips his attention like nothing else. He’s the type of S/O that won’t react negatively when you share your innermost secrets.

“Oh really?”

“Ah, you can’t just tell me and not show me.”

“Tell me more; don’t just stop there.”

“You’re very interesting - not being sarcastic, I promise!”

Intellectual discussion is very necessary! He becomes passionate when showing you his latest and greatest inventions, and enjoys sharing ideas with you. A small part of him really warms to your fascination and praise of him. What is most important to Kisuke is keeping an open mind for everything. You are most likely aware that his shop is a disguise for plenty of Shinigami operations, and I’m postitive he wouldn’t think of dating you in the first place if you were judgemental or did not support what he does. Kisuke is happy, even eager, to hear your thoughts on anything from your favorite pets to human (or Shinigami) nature. Late night discussions over sake is a relaxant for him.

When you both began dating, Kisuke snoops around for information about you. He just can’t get enough of you, even if it crosses ethical lines (sigh). Kisuke is absolutely the type to do a deep investigation of you via the help of his “undercover agents” Jinta and Ururu. You catch on very quickly.

He’s very, very adept at hiding his shy nature around you. Sometimes, you make him feel shy no matter how many years have passed. Relationships require a level of vulnerability he is not used to showing, so patience and understanding is needed on your part when he closes off behind humor or feigned confusion.

When you both communicate by cell phone, he normally leaves you on read or leaves emojis when you ask a question. He’s horrible at keeping it on him, so something Jinta or Ururu would text you that they just found the phone somewhere ridiculous such as in a tree or empty bottle of sake (like, how?). Kisuke prefers to communicate in meme format.

Despite being a master strategist, master swordsman, master candy seller, he still talks down to himself. Kisuke is great at being humble, but he can downplay his success a lot perhaps due to lingering feelings surrounding his exile. Although he laughs it off, catch him on it and let him know he’s more than adequate just as he is, and his accomplishments are to his name.

“Oh, little ol’ me? Don’t be silly.”

“You flatter me too much, sweetheart.”

NSFW

Remember I said open-minded? This applies here, too. You could list some of the most uncommon kinks you like and he’d just stare back at you with a look that communicates, “then let’s get started”. He has a preference for hair-pulling, dirt talking, perhaps some vouyerism and orgasm control as well.

In bed, he can switch between taking the lead and relaxing to let you take over. Sex is very fun and relaxed for him, so he won’t be frazzled if you want to get on top or you don’t like something in particular. Expect to laugh, for strange sounds to not be awkward, and for it not to be rushed and crazed. He prefers an unhurried, slow torture that leaves both of you shaking.

He prefers deep and slow than fast and hard. He learns what zones and spots get you to keel or become short of breath. Kisuke will take the time to slowly study your body, its triggers, its breaking points. Performing oral is slow and frustrating, just as he likes it. There are moments when he’d just stare at you there, using his index finger to softly carress you in a way that gets you to clench or twitch. He will definitely be the first partner to make you aware that you have a sensitive area behind your knees or right at the small of your back.

“This seems to get you going.”

“Suddenly shy, now? Let me look, just for a bit…”

“I see now. I may have learned something new.”

For Kisuke, his scalp is very sensitive. A sharp tug is a silent action to get him to thrust faster, and a rake of your nails down his scalp tells him to go slower. You can be a bit rough with him, since he likes sharp sensations soothed by soft ones. When using your hands on him, feel free to oscilatte between a tight grip around him and a quick clench around his balls, then softening the sliver of pain with your mouth at the frenulum. Mad skills.

With taking his time with you, comes the orgasm control. He watches your expressions carefully and will slow down what he is doing or stop altogether when he notices you are about to orgasm. A little bit of control in the bedroom is just enough for him, and he knows how to exercise it perfectly. His voice is soothing but you can tell by how firmly he clenches your thighs he isn’t messing around.

“I don’t remember saying you could come yet.”

“Try to be a little patient now, love.”

“We may have to stop playing if you can’t delay some gratification.”

A few stints in the storage room is not uncommon. A measly excuse of needing help finding something directed at you instead of his actual employees is an obvious clue. Not even taking all of each other’s clothes off, he gets aroused twice as fast at the idea of life going on beyond the storage room while you both engage in something indecent. He enjoys more subtle forms of vouyerism such as performing oral while on phone calls, or using his hands on you from underneath a table while maintaining composure. Like I said, Kisuke enjoys fun, and he also enjoys having something at stake. He doesn’t care about the smell of sweat and sex on him as he emerges from an escapade, either,

“Don’t worry, just a fever. You’ll get better soon, won’t you dear?”

“Thanks for calling. They’ll be coming soon, don’t worry.”

“Ah, I just needed help finding something. It happened to be in my pocket all along…”

“Don’t make too much noise, now.”

“Hush, a little longer and I’ll reward you later.”

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