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safyresky · 6 months

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This was the most anticlimactic finale I have EVER seen in my life??

IT WAS SO. ANTICLIMACTIC. LIKE. THE MAD SANTA AND SCOTT STANDOFF? THE UN-NUTCRACKERING OF MY BOY???? SANDRA'S POWERS??? I JUST. WHERE IS THE GROWTH. WHY CAN'T THEY GIVE US MORE TIME FOR ALL THE GROWTH. AH. BAD!

On that note, tho, things I actually quite liked, maybe even LOVED???? I thoroughly enjoyed the episode. Well, MOST of it. Especially:

Betty and Olga's whole toymaking thing lol that was cute and sweet

NOEL! EVERYTHING NOEL! TAKING CHARGE! BROKERING A PEACE! AMAZING

Kris tagging along, lol, what a vibe. "Holy crap! Ice bergs???!?!?!?!" (chokes on a bug)

Mad Santa and Olga acknowledging their toxicity with one another

Sandra calling Cal Buddy, THANK YOU QUEEN

Sandra's whole VIBE tbh. The witchy/goth prom look, her powers being like. Based on Christmas spirit!

Betty and Olga AGAIN, I really really REALLY loved how that went and LOVED how they were like "we're really quite the same"

Meanwhile Noel and the rest of the gnomes are like "Oh! Glad y'all caught up! Tea?"

Good for Magnus, going back and performing!! Good for him!!! I loved seeing him THRIVE with the sax!!!

and I'm really glad Magnus was like "Kris's place made me feel JOY", we LOVE TO SEE PEOPLE WITH CHRISTMAS SPIRIT REASSURED AND VALIDATED!

Everything about Mrs. Claus tbh. Carol, my belovedddddd~ freaking out about Buddy and and and having the RANGE, GOD, Elizabeth Mitchell fans, you are all SO RIGHT!

So basically everything that DIDN'T involve Santa? I'm kinda shooketh. Why was that episode so chill compared to all the other ones??? I obtained MINIMAL psychic damage (perhaps I have an immunity now??? WHO'S TO SAY!)

Santa's lines are all delivered so unenthusiastically and he just. GOD. You know how in The Christmas Invasion Ten looks at Harriet Jones, Prime Minister, then goes over to her assistant and is like "doesn't she look tired"? I feel like we could totally do that to Tomothy and just. End him. Then and there.

KRIS. He's really cool. Like I unironically enjoy him. He a little naive but BOY DOES HE HAVE THE SPIRIT! AND I LOVE THAT! Honestly, they could've had him be the next Santa and he'd be AMAZING at it tbh! he was very underused and that was a SHAME. Remember in episode 1 when we saw his dad for like 3 seconds and I thought "wow we could have a whole father figure angle here!" as if the writing in this show could actually decently do something like this

Get his ass count for this episode: about 5

Again, I keep getting hung up on the weird choices and the lore????????

Weird choices: having the underlying theme of Betty/Olga fight being I WANT THAT TOY NO IT'S MINE was weird?? You could've done it differently to get them to the Workshop to chat. you could have had them call one another out with their toymaking skills? And go from there?????? IT WOULD'VE BEEN EASY TO DO

Weird choices: Bringing Kris up??? I LOVED it, he was perf comedic relief--like, if anyone in this universe should have loony toon powers (see: him appearing in the cell behind Mad Santa and everyone being like OH YOU'RE HERE TOO), it's Kris. 100%

My mood @ Kris is very much:

yes. I made a meme about it. I just really appreciate him, especially in this episode? HE'S JUST FULL OF CRIBMAS SPIRIT!!! FUCK!

Lore things I had issues with:

1. "But a witch...born at the North Pole...could!"

2. "You've got a history"/"I've read your history! You were a GREAT Santa!" and also "Way to go Noel! I always KNEW you'd make a great head elf!"

3. "Storied apex of the globe"

(not direct quotes)

"But a witch...born at the North Pole...COULD"

As a disclaimer: I quite like Sandra having cribmas witch magic, and I like the idea that she's a lil different bc of being born at the Pole. HOWEVER. The execution/explanation is...mid. WHY is it that Sandra being a human witch born at the NP CAN un-nutcracker Cal??? Where is the EXPLANATION!??!!? WHAT ABOUT IT MAKES HER DIFFERENT FROM OTHER WITCHES? IS IT BECAUSE OF THE "storied apex of the globe" COMMENT NOEL MAKES WHEN HE'S BEING A BAMF AND HYPING UP THE GNOMES? IS IT LEY LINES??? LIKE. WHAT IS THE EXPLANATION?

I would be FINE with suspending my disbelief if they had maybe just GIVEN THE CONCEPTS AND CHARACTERS TIME TO GROW!!! You could've rewritten the whole entire "we're stealing doing Easter!" episode and instead SOLELY FOCUS ON MAGIC. Have Befana react more mildly and go "this is different, come along" and bring Sandy to her lil cabin while they try to figure it out and THEN drop the "she was born at the NP and this is why she ca do such a powerful spell" and then have someone go what why?? AND BOOM. BEFANA GIVES US EXPOSITION, WE LEARN, SANDRA CAN HAVE A PLOTTY ARC WHERE SHE'S LIKE "no, I can't do that, that's. Girl that's crazy" to have the build to her un-nutcrackering Buddy have more of an OOMPF, you know? IT'S THAT EASY. ARGH.

2. "you've got a history/I've read your history" (A) and "I always knew you could do it Noel!" (B)

2. a) HOW COULD YOU HAVE READ THE HISTORY WHEN THE ELVES RIPPED OUT THE PAGE AND BURNT IT? WAS IT YOUR SANTA SENSES? HELLO? IF SO, WHY DIDN'T THEY SHOW US MORE OF THAT?? MAYBE SUBPLOT FOR SCOTT WHILE SANDY IS LEARNING ABOUT HER COOL MAGIC, HE'S LIKE OKAY. INTO THE YULE VERSE, LET'S LEARN ABOUT MAD SANTA. AND GIVE IT SOME PROPER TIME TO BE ESTABLISHED! LET SCOTT SEE HOW MAGNUS WAS BEFORE HE GOT PARANOID AND DISPATCHED BY THE ELVES! THEN MAYBE. JUST MAYBE. THE ANTI-CLIMATIC SANTA VS SANTA SHOWDOWN WOULDN'T HAVE BEEN AS ANTI-CLIMACTIC BECAUSE SCOTT BE KNOWING THAT MAGNUS WAS GOOD AND IS JUST HAVING SOME RELATABLE ISSUES, AND THE PAYOFF WOULD BE BETTER!

2. b)

OH REALLY. DID YOU SANTA? DID YOU? BECAUSE I HAVE MOTHER FUCKING RECEIPTS:

I REST MY FUCKING CASE, SANTA.

(also I got a DAMN GOOD Noel snip. You GO NOEL. SHOW SCOTT WHO'S THE FUCKING BOSS! YEAH!!!! YEAH BABY!!!)

3. "The storied apex of the globe."

YOU CAN'T JUST DROP THIS ON ME. ON ALL OF US. AND NOT ELABORATE. ARE YOU IMPLYING THAT ALL THE STORY CREATURES LIVE AT THE NORTH POLE BC IT'S AN APEX? A NEXUS? FUCKING ELABORATE ON THAT! ADD IT TO THE REWRITTEN STEAL EASTER EPISODE. STOP DUMPING LORE WITHOUT ELABORATING. WHAT! DOES! IT! MEAN! AHHHHH (explodes)

(reconstitutes)

Whew! Glad I got all that out of my system!!!

Other odds and ends that did NOT hit:

"I went to MIT" I'm with Edie on this one tbh. Also, where is the MUFFIN institute of tech. At the North Pole? WHERE??? YOU CAN'T DROP HINTS THAT ALL MAGICAL CREATURES ARE THERE AND NOWHERE ELSE WITH AN AREA THAT SMALL. THAT'S WHY CRYSTAL SPRINGS IS A GD CONTINENT OF A LANDMASS!!!! AH!

ANTICLIMACTIC SANTA VS SANTA MOMENT! IT WAS SO DRY AND DROLL AND JUST. IT DID N O T HIT. SEE ABOVE POINTS.

ALL OF SANTA SCOTT'S BITS. SO FLAT AND DRY!!!!! SOMEONE PUSH HIM OFF A ROOF AND MAKE SURE HE S T A Y S DOWN

Mad Santa about 100 times: "I'M NOT A DUMB STUPID HUMAN LIKE YOU" THEN WHAT ARE YOU?!?!?!?!?!?

I AM ONCE AGAIN ASKING FOR CAROL TO HAVE MORE OF AN ARC THAN "overbearing mom" AND "token WE PASSED FEMINISM" rep, especially with Elizabeth Mitchell putting her WHOLE ASS SELF INTO IT! SHE HAS THE RANGE! A SHAME SHE'S STUCK WITH FLAT ASS TOMOTHY AND GLASS CEILING REFERENCES!!!

HECK, I'D LOVE IT IF BOTH PARENTS HAD MORE TIME TO REALIZE THEY WEREN'T BEING GREAT! OR EVEN, DIDN;T HAVE THAT PLOTLINE AND WERE JUST TRYING TO BE SUPPORTIVE BUT NOT SURE HOW TO GO ABOUT IT AND MAKING MISTAKES BUT LEARNING TO FIX EM!

I sighed loud enough to wake the entire neighbourhood ALL TWO REWATCHES WHEN THEY SHOEHORNED THE MOVIE FLASHBACKS IN. WHEN THEY REVEALED THAT KRIS WAS THE HOUSE OF KAYAK KID FROM TSC 1. WHEN THEY THREW ALL THE OLD "he is drinking out of the mug SEE IT'S ALWAYS BEEN HERE" flashback sequence in. uGH S T O P!!!! IT WAS BAD IN THE THIRD MOVIE AND IT'S W O R S E IN THE SERIES

(in Yzma voice) WHY DOES HE EVEN HAVE THAT AMULET? BC HE'S SECRETIVE? GIVE ME MORE INFO!!! (flips a table)

CURTIS EXPLODED. CURTIS WENT TO KRIBBLE KRABBLE AND NEVER CAME BACK. WAS THAT BEFORE OR AFTER HE EXPLODED??? (@shittyelfwriter and I both agree AFTER lol)

I figure he was patient 0 for Curtis-itis, hence the name! Maybe almost 'sploded but instead went nope! I need to kribble krabble!

I mean, he would uphold it, of course, the MOMENT after he became head elf bc he loves rules so heckin much lol

Regardless, MAKE UP YOUR MIND!

An aside: I read an article talking about that piece of info and the person who wrote it was like "Curtis stans will be happy to know (we know you're out there!)"

(me, squinting) where. where. I don't see them. I see the Elizabeth Mitchell/Carol stans (on occasion. I stumble into them like I made a wrong turn lol). The Bernard stans (how could you NOT see them they're everyone lol), The JACK STANS (guilty as fucking charged), but have yet to see CURTIS STANS. Mostly just Curtis appreciators??? y'all are cool tho. He is a funky lil stressed out nerd. Deffs NOT a management guy lol. Give him a couple hundred or so more years first :-)

HOW AND WHY DID MAGNUS GO INTO THE JAIL. WE ARE MISSING A SCENE. BIG TIME. WHERE DID IT GO. YOU SHOULDN'T HAVE CUT THAT ONE MY DUDES. MAYBE THE FLUFFY EATS A FLY WHILE IN THE SLEIGH BIT SHOULD'VE BEEN AXED INSTEAD SINCE FLIES DON'T GO THAT HIGH! WHY IS MAD SANTA THERE AND H O W DID HE PASS THE BLOCKADE OF PEOPLE??? HELLO???

Just. Just let Cal go to prom. Don't bring prom to him. Please. Please let him and Riley have ONE brain cell at LEAST. Technology isn't rotting our brains THAT badly. It's just pushing censoring and making younger gens forget what critical thinking skills are!

God, now I sound like Tomothy. VIBE CHECK ON AISLE SAFYRESKY!

Also, Riley, stop trying to steal @snowqueenjacqueline's DRIP GIRLIE. LIGHT BLUE? SNOWFLAKES? WHAT'S JACQUELINE SUPPOSED TO WEAR TO NORTH POLE PROM NOW?!?!!?

And I think that's it?? I think I got it all out of my system. WHEW.

Season thoughts: Ouch. Brain hurty. Andie you were SO RIGHT with the disjointed bit. TOO MUCH LORE. TOO MUCH THROWING BACK. NOT ENOUGH EXPLANATIONS/GROWING TIME. CHARACTER ARCS ARE ONCE MORE NONEXISTENT. THEY JUST HAPPEN AND WE DON'T SEE THEM. SOMEHOW BETTER THAN SEASON 1???? BUT STILL. NOT GREAT! Mid, mostly. Not great! Nothing to write home about tbh.

And now. I end this lengthy ass review with some snips of my FAVOURITE part of the entire season:

#dani speaks #the santa clause #the santa clauses #tscs spoilers #tscs meta #tscs wank #there's a bit of both. but quite honestly?? overall???#this episode was enjoyable. high rewatchability #and uh. heh. and screencap ability huehuehuheuheue #the last santa gets wasted image gave me a gr8 idea. will post in a mo #huehuehuehuehue #tscs #tscs2 #dani watches tscs2 #long post

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cobrakaisb · 3 years

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tulips

(this gif has nothing to do with the imagine, but i love it so here it is)

summary: you’ve had a crush on miguel since he first came to west valley high, but you never worked up the courage to say anything to him, until he wakes up from his coma.

word count: 1,708 words

you walked into the hospital, a bouquet of red tulips in your hand. “hi. i’m looking for miguel diaz,” you said to the receptionist. “are you family?” she asked politely. “um no, but i-” you began but the woman cut you off. “i’m sorry but only family is allowed in right now,” she said. you frowned at her words, looking sadly at the tulips and card in your hand. you were about to leave when someone from behind you said, “no, no she’s with me.”

you looked over to see a beautiful woman with curly black hair. the receptionist smiled at the two of you, gesturing for the two of you to go ahead in. “thanks for helping me out back there,” you said once the two of you were in the elevator. “oh of course! i’m sure miguel would want his girlfriend to come and see him anyways,” she said, placing a hand on your shoulder. “oh um we aren’t-” you started, but you were cut off by the elevator doors opening.

sure you liked miguel, and you’ve had a crush on him for awhile now, but miguel didn’t even know who you were, let alone know about your crush. when you had decided to bring miguel flowers and a card today, you weren’t expecting to meet his mother, and you definitely weren’t expecting her to call you miguel’s girlfriend. you weren’t really sure what to say to ms. diaz as she led you into miguel’s hospital room. standing over him was an older woman, who was talking to him in spanish. ms. diaz said something to the older woman that you didn’t understand, but they both looked at you with bright smiles after that. “we’ll leave you two alone. he can hear everything you say,” she said before the two of them left the room.

you stood there awkwardly for a moment, eyes glancing over the many cuts and bruises that adorned miguel’s body. you gently traced the top of his hand with your finger tips, before pulling away. “what am i even doing here?” you mumbled, looking down at the tulips and card in your hand. “you don’t even know me,” you said looking at miguel. you stayed silent for a few minutes, debating on whether or not you should just leave and never come back.

you were about to walk out of the room, gifts still in hand when miguel’s grandmother entered. she placed a comforting hand on your back, guiding you over to miguel’s hospital bed. she didn’t say anything to you as she grabbed the tulips and put them in a vase on his bedside table along with your card. she smiled at you, gesturing to miguel. you nodded your head, smiling softly at her, as she left the room, satisfied at the outcome of the unspoken conversation.

you took a deep breath before talking to him, “hey miguel. it’s um y/n, we have math and ela together. originally i was just stopping by to drop off some flowers. red tulips, they’re my favorite flower, so i thought you would like them. um your mom saw me downstairs, talking to the receptionist, and she told me to come up with her. i’m pretty sure she thinks i’m your girlfriend, but don’t worry i’ll tell her we aren’t together. anyways i better go now, but keep fighting okay?” you rambled. you looked at miguel one more time before leaving his room.

you never did end up telling ms. diaz, who insisted that you call her carmen, and yaya that you and miguel weren’t together. every time you tried the two would just laugh and say that there was no need for you to feel shy about your relationship with miguel. Despite everything, you still ended up coming to visit miguel every other day, bringing a new bouquet of tulips when needed, which is how miguel found out about you when he woke up from his coma.

“miguel your friend demetri, i think, dropped off this comic book for you,” carmen said as she walked into his hospital room. miguel looked up from the card he was reading, nodding at his mother’s words. She put the book on his bedside table with his many other gifts, looking over at the vase of tulips from your last visit a few days ago. “aw these flowers are getting old,” carmen noted and miguel nodded in agreement. “yeah. thanks for bringing those by the way. they really help brighten up the room,” he said.

carmen only smiled at the boy, shaking her head. “i didn’t bring them, your girlfriend did,” she answered. miguel’s eyebrows furrowed at her statement because last time he checked, he didn’t have a girlfriend. “she comes in every couple of days to bring you a new bouquet of tulips and talk to you. she’s so sweet,” his mother continued gushing about his so called girlfriend. meanwhile miguel sat wondering who this mystery girl could be. was it sam? maybe even tory? he was about to ask his mother but he was interrupted by the nurse’s arrival.

it's been a couple of days since your last visit with miguel. you had some school work to catch up on, but you were able to come today, bringing a new bouquet of tulips and a tupperware container of brownies for carmen and yaya with you. “hey miguel i-” you started, but you stopped at the sight of miguel sitting up watching tv. his eyes instantly turned to you and you blushed at his intense stare. “oh uh hi miguel, i didn’t know you were awake,” you said awkwardly, shuffling your feet. miguel just stared at you quietly, unsure as to why you were here since the two of you never really talked. “um i’m y/n. we have math and ela together. anyways i just brought some new tulips and some brownies for your mom and yaya,” you explained, walking into his room.

miguel slowly began to put the pieces together. you were his ‘girlfriend’. you sat behind him in math and ela, but he’s talked to you a few times while doing group work. just from those conversations he knew that you were extremely smart, caring, and sweet. honestly he wasn’t surprised to see that you were the one visiting him because it just seemed so in character for you.

miguel didn’t say anything, so you just smiled at him before fully entering the room. you moved to replace the tulips, and set the brownies down on his table. “so you’re the one who’s been bringing me flowers?” miguel asked, and you nodded your head shyly. “that means you’re also my mystery girlfriend,” he continued, a cocky smile on his face as your blush made another appearance. “oh right about that,” you started but you were interrupted by carmen and yaya. “y/n! there you are! we were starting to worry about you!” carmen exclaimed and you were pulled into a tight hug by her and yaya.

you ended up staying to visit miguel for a couple of hours, and miguel would be lying if he said that he wasn’t sad to see you leave. out of everyone who came to visit him so far, you were the only person who hadn’t brought up the accident. instead you told him about what was going on at school and the latest gossip. in fact that’s what you were doing right now, a couple days later.

“so becky’s single now,” you explained and miguel nodded his head in understanding. “speaking of being single and relationships, why do my mom and yaya think you’re my girlfriend?” miguel asked curiously. “i’m not sure why they think i’m your girlfriend, but i understand why it can come off that way,” you started and miguel just raised his eyebrows at your words, a silent plea for you to continue. “oh don’t give me that look. why else would some random girl show up to the hospital with a bouquet of flowers?” you asked, and miguel chuckled at your words. “so that answers why they think we’re together. i guess i’m just confused as to why you came to see me in the first place?” miguel asked, looking at you with his brown puppy dog eyes.

you were silent for a moment, debating on whether or not to tell miguel about your feelings. ultimately you decided that you owed him that much, as an explanation. “look miguel, i like you a lot. i have since the first day you walked into west valley high. but then you joined cobra kai and got popular, and well i’m not, so i never said anything. when the whole fight at the school happened i watched as you fell from the stairs and i realized that i might have lost my chance with you. so i decided to bring you flowers and a card, which explained everything, but the receptionist wouldn’t let me in. your mom saw me and i guess she thought that i was your girlfriend, so she told me to come with her. then i met yaya and both of them were really excited that you had a girlfriend and i couldn’t-” miguel interrupted your rambling with a gentle kiss on your lips.

of course he had read your card, and he already knew everything that you were telling him, but he wanted to hear you say it. reading your words and hearing them were two different things. both helped him realize that he liked you too, but he just couldn’t put two and two together. sure miguel might have liked sam and tory at one point in his life, but he always liked you, he just didn’t know it, until now. hearing you say that you liked him, was all he needed to validate his feelings for you.

“i like you too y/n,” he said when you pulled apart. “wait really?” you asked him. “really,” miguel answered, grabbing a hold of your hand. you smiled gently at him as he placed a kiss on your cheek. so the two of you sat there, together, talking about anything and everything. it’s a good thing tulips represent a perfect and deep love.

#cobra kai x reader #cobra kai imagine #miguel diaz cobra kai #miguel diaz #miguel diaz imagine #miguel diaz x reader #cobrakaisb writing

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americangirlstar · 3 years

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Now that both Courtney books are out and I’ve read and processed them both, I do want to say that I think they’re the least well-written of any of the AG books, but not through any fault of their own- let me explain.

(Note that for this discussion I’m ignoring the Doylist criticisms- Courtney and 3/4 of her friend group being white again, the lack of gay discussion in-text in regards to the HIV crisis, etc. These are valid complaints and concerns, but not what we’re talking about right now.)

The Problem with the Current Book Length

I think the main problem with Courtney stems from the fact her books are so short. American Girl has literally been doing the stupidest things in regards to their books lately, almost as if they’re trying to sabotage them on purpose. First they remove illustrations in 2015- when their target audience is about nine years old. I don’t know about you, but when I was six and getting into American Girl, the illustrations were the highlight for me. Not because I had no attention span and loved pretty pictures, but because it showed me firstly what the girl’s life was like, whether it be 1760s wilderness or 2001 Chicago. It was like stepping into their world, really helping you get into their heads, which was basically what the dolls were supposed to do, to let you know that girls like you exist throughout time and space.

As well as that, the illustrations were free advertisement. I can’t tell you how excited me and my sisters were as children to go to the American Girl place and look at the doll displays, shouting that that’s the dress Felicity wears to the ball! or look, Josefina’s goat looks exactly like the book! AG cut that from 2015 to 2020, as if they were trying to appeal to an older audience- while at the same time changing all the doll outfits, accessories and marketing to appeal to a younger demographic.

Now, this isn’t about the illustrations, as Courtney got those- it’s about what they did to the historical characters after the Illustration Outrage™ happened. See, they’d condensed the historical six-book format into two books- not necessarily a bad idea, parents would be more likely to buy two books for their kid than consider buying six. However, they then claimed that if they put illustrations back, they would have to abridge the books- literally my nightmare.

First of all, American Girl, we know for a fact you can fit all six books plus illustrations into ONE VOLUME, let alone two. You’re just being cowards here and trying to nerf your own stories for... some reason.

So that meant a lot of important things got cut- Rebecca’s Chanukah story, Melody’s cousin’s house search, Maryellen’s Christmas adventure... all things important to the girls’ histories and character.

The Problem with Courtney’s Writing

Now, Courtney was the first doll to be released after the abridging began, meaning her books were released, in their entirety, just as short as the abridged stories. So it basically means she gets four books while the others get six- and unlike the others, Courtney doesn’t even have mysteries or short stories to pad out. (And honestly, looking at her book’s amount of content, I’d even argue that she basically got two while everyone else got six, but I digress.)

The problem with her books isn’t that they have an author writing them poorly (I really feel like her author was doing the best with what limited time she had), but in how cramped American Girl made them. Because, well, Courtney has to deal with a lot in such a short amount of words.

Let’s compare her to Julie, for instance- Julie pretty much has a new 70s thing every book. In order: feminism, rising divorce rates, San Francisco’s Chinese culture, environmentalism, the country’s bicentennial, anti-bullying and deaf acceptance. And adding to this, we also have her own personal journies through her parents’ divorce and move, her basketball team, her friendship with Ivy (and later Joy), overcoming her fear of horses, student council, detention... It’s a lot, and yet her books don’t feel rushed or forced at all. It’s just a year in the life of a girl going through a lot of new and sudden events, and how she grows and changes throughout them. She may not be as deep a character as Addy or Kirsten, but not every girl goes through the trials and tribulations they do, and it’s a good series overall.

Courtney, meanwhile, does feel rushed and forced, because of the short timespan. Instead of fitting everything into a six-book format- or even at two-book format that is the same length and content as the six-book- everything has to be fit into two short books. Everything Courtney has to cover includes the topics of divorce and stepfamilies, feminist and technological advancement, the Challenger explosion, the HIV crisis, Hands Across America, and the founding of Pleasant Company. And in Courtney’s own journey, she has to cover her learning to stand up for herself, her relationship with her stepsister and Tina’s own character development, her mother running for mayor and how that affects her, how much she misses her Dad after he moves, her friendship with Sarah (note on that later), her basically getting hate-crimed after standing up for her friend... that’s a LOT of stuff, and I didn’t even include the non-AG 80s product placement they shove into her collection.

But without the longer format, everything is pushed together to its detriment. Tina’s development and Maureen’s mayoral candidacy are two plotlines that are literally dropped and almost completely ignored in the second book. The Challenger and HIV issues were handled decently, but the Challenger only lasted a few short chapters, and the HIV topic was not as informative as it could be, leaving out several things like Reagan’s refusal to treat it for so long, and its effect on the gay community. Honestly, the HIV scare was more shifted to focus on the mob mentality of a new and scary disease- which, while needed right now, also ignores many of the bigotry-related reasons it became an epidemic. Pleasant Company’s inclusion feels forced in, and I think was the only resolution she had to her Dad plotline?

And don’t get me started on the Sarah plotline- every Girl of the Year since Kanani- sans Isabelle and Luci- has had the story of “oh no I’ve been ignoring my friend and now they’re mad at me :(” and it’s SO old. Seriously, I counted the contemporary dolls that have had that storyline, and it’s thirteen*. Thirteen times we’ve covered this issue- almost all of it in quick succession- and now we have to deal with it in a historical character book while much more important things are going on! Yes, it sucks when a friend ditches you while you’re being attacked and bullied for something you’re standing up for, but once again, with how much is happening in such a short book, it just feels like a forced-in plotline that we’ve seen a billion times, and with their falling-out happening mainly due to the attention Courtney was given Isaac, it serves to make Sarah seem closed-minded at best and bigoted at worst- it’s clarified that she’s not, she’s just scared and upset with Courtney, but when you put those events so close together, it leads the reader to lump them together and get the impression that, you know, Sarah is a worse person than she is.

*Full count: Nicki (book 2), Chrissa (book 2), Kanani (2), McKenna (1 iirc?), Saige (both books), Grace (2), Lea (3), Gabriela (1 and 3), Tenney (2), Z (1), Blaire (1), Joss (1) and Kira (1).

It’s a bit weird, too, that Courtney’s... what’s the word? Vibe? with her how her story is written and marketed Is closer to the Contemporaries than the Historicals. Am I the only one feeling this? My best explanation for it is that the author, Kellen Hertz, had only written contemporary books for American Girl before- the third Lea Clark book and all four Tenney Grant books, both of which contained the Friendship Issues™ plot. I’m not at all saying she’s a bad author- I honestly love the way the Tenney books are written- and I’m not saying she couldn’t write a historical book, but it’s clear American Girl didn’t ask her to change up her style or content from what she’d done for them before, as well as giving her way too much to cover in such short books.

Conclusion

Honestly, this conclusion should be obvious- American Girl needs to expand their books again. Whether they simply allow the books to be unabridged, or go back to the six-book format, Courtney's books are too cramped to tell an effective story, let alone the poor abridged girls.

The other girls were given six-book length, so if they went back to that length or format, Courtney would have to be rewritten, at least a little- and that’s okay! There’s a lot of things that could use expansion or connection, such as her Summer trip with her Dad that was given basically one sentence in the text. Her growth with her stepfamily could be acknowledged- and honestly? I think that if these books were expanded, her mother’s mayoral arc should either continue through the books, or Maureen should become mayor before the book 2 arc. I’ve mentioned this before, but having Maureen as mayor (or even still a candidate) would put a lot of pressure on Courtney to be perfect so that nobody can say “look at how awful this woman is for doing politics instead of raising her family right”- which means that when the Isaac stuff happens, it has even more stakes for Courtney and her family. Does her Mom still support her with her own reputation on the line, and what does that say about Maureen’s character, how does it affect Courtney and the D’Amicos... that’s all fascinating stuff that was completely missed out on.

And if she was turned into a six-book format- honestly, here’s how I’d do it, just off the top of my head. It would involve a bit of event shuffling, but honestly I think it would work!

Meet Courtney - pretty much the setup for everything happening, her starting to get her Crystal Starshooter plans and her mom’s campaign beginning.

Courtney Learns a Lesson - her relationship to Tina, culminating in the Challenger incident.

Courtney’s Surprise - we move the founding of Pleasant Company over here, since Molly’s basically her Christmas Present. We’ll probably need an additional plotline- maybe similar to Julie, she can have a story on spending the holidays in different places.

Happy Birthday Courtney - end of summer, aka meeting Isaac and her trip with her Dad.

Courtney Saves the Day - Beginning of the HIV arc, ending at her presentation to her class.

Changes for Courtney - Continuation of the HIV arc as things get worse for her and Isaac, ending where Friendship Superhero ends.

Is that a perfect sorting? Probably not, I came up with it in ten minutes. But would it give Courtney space to breathe and more time to explore everything happening to her? Probably!

The tl;dr of this is honestly that American Girl are absolute cowards right now, and need to expand their books back. Their abridging is only harming their stories- which, as Courtney herself points out, are the reason girls got into their company in the first place.

#courtney moore #american girl #american girl dolls #american girls #1986 #negativity #mine #americangirlstar

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ladyyatexel · 3 years

Text

I Went On A Manga Binge

So you don't have to

For those of you who have wisely avoided the shreds of it I've left around the blog thus-far, I had some weird notion to go re-experience Yu-Gi-Oh uuuuuh a week ago? We'll go with that. Time is meaningless.

I'd been able to read a good portion of the early manga at the end of highschool, and somewhere in my stacks and stacks of paper is fanart from this dark time, so you know I cared. I also still own a Dark Magician action figure somehow, so. I'd also watched a large portion of the anime with my brother because it had been laced with some kind of crack and we couldn't look away? I remember when we both were just like shit, wait, don't change the channel, I can't stop looking at it. And the next thing we knew we were waiting for new episodes and I was doing research on the Japanese original because I was that kid.

Anyway, unnecessary backstory out of the way, here are some... let's call them Observations and Consequences of having read somewhere in the neighborhood of 300 chapters (and growing) of a manga primarily hinged on card games from a spectrum of sources ranging from boringly lawful to sketchy as fuck.

Surprise actual character that develops in typical shounen fashion being Jounouchi. My limited experiences with the 4Kids dub and only early manga had not painted him in a particularly good light. I don't know if episodes were being aired out of order or if I had just missed the ones that established that he was making shit up as he was going along, but Wow I liked him a lot more going through the manga than I ever did watching the (dubbed, heavily edited and censored and thrown into a slurry machine) anime. I'd managed to come out with the impression that he was just as reasonably experienced with the game as Yugi back in the day. Wild.

I'm now reading every single comic-style post on Tumblr backwards.

Striking inverse to first point, wow, I don't like Seto Kaiba. Though he gets points for his general philosophy of the future, and the line I read in my sketchy online combo of scans and scanlations in which he said, "If God is in your way, you run him down," was Metal As Fuck. I somewhat shame-facedly admit to enjoying him a lot more as an Abridged Series character. (I watched Abridged as it came out back in the day! The experience of watching the anime with my brother had been so fresh that I got all the in jokes about the way things were edited and dubbed, it was great. Series remains influential part of my life to this day, which is hella weird.)

I almost understand how Duel Monsters works now. I don't want this.

That said, wow a lot of the decisions made in the anime made everything a lot more ridiculous than the admittedly already ridiculous original. I got the distinct feeling in the manga that the Duelist Kingdom stuff we were seeing was designed to be used and exploited in ways that don't make sense in an actual cardgame just played on a table like a normal person and this was part of testing everyone to think higher, differently. Maybe this is obvious to everyone already, I don't know. I had always liked that it was very, 'Not so fast, I'm going to blow up the moon to change the tides,' but I'm not really sure the anime gave enough explanation that this was an extra layer added to things for that event? You can see people actively getting used to it in the books, and people who aren't considering the real or 3D nature of it getting owned, but my memory of anime version is everyone just like, 'oh, shucks, fuck me, I forgot to consider the phase of the moon before i played this card, can't believe I forgot.' No one calls Yugi on any of this stuff because it's valid play in that situation. Plus Yami Yugi had mad trickster energy in the beginning and it suited him to think of ways to do things inside these little simulation boxes the way it suited him to set perverts on fire. I imagine the real card game trying to emulate this element as something that would be to its detriment, but I neither know nor particular care haha

Ryou Bakura.

Really, though. I think he became kind of casualty of 'wow, we have a lot of characters who really aren't able to do anything in this story anymore,' despite the fact that his whole inner life could have been as interesting as Yugi's. I always like thinking about the possibilities of stories in which main character falls into magical world and is given magical item and told they're the hero and then they find out they've been the bad guy the whole time. The first several volumes of manga were about the quiet weirdo kid that no one talked to who was always blacking out and turning into a fucked up version of himsef because he was so attached to his ancient Egyptian jewelry, so like, Bakura could have much the same shit going on. I want to know what's happening with him so much. He clearly doesn't love being possessed, but he's also so drawn to the ring. Despite it having stabbed him at least twice and him knowing it's a danger to him and his friends, he keeps being pulled back into it. You see so much more of him being like, 'Oooh, a creepy thing, I love that! :D' in the manga than ever in the anime, which I'm all about. Also more blood. I'm very about that as well. Though my memory of the anime also made it look very much like normal regular daily Bakura was just a weird facade in places before he ever would have been. I think that was it trying to compensate for what people didn't see from the Toei anime, but okay whatever, that I love everything about this guy is not news, I don't need to talk about Bakura excessively here, I'm pretty sure that's gonna show up on my blog by itself

On a related note though, damn, more of these people need to talk to each other. Can we have some existential crisis support clubs or something. Can we get like some apologies or something? "I respect you as a duelist." "Cool, but you literally built a tower designed to specifically assassinate me and my friends? You were supposed to get Better after I retaliated by putting you in a coma, but you kinda didn't." "Why would the coma have made it better" "I just told you it didn't" ---- "Sorry I went along with the plan of your evil parasite stabbing you, misled you, and then also jumped in and took up some real estate in your head too." "I understand, I also have an evil thing inside me that does things while I'm blacked out." "...no, I was conscious for all of that." "Oh." "..." "..." "..." "Do you like Ouija Boards?" "sure okay" ETC. Like damn we are reading shounen manga because no one is talking extensively about their feelings here and I'm tapping my foot angrily.

Holy shit there are so many mythologies happening at once. The ancient family guarding the Egyptian Pharaoh has a surname that's a Mesopotamian goddess. None of the god cards make any Egyptian sense except Ra, and just like. Baaarrrrely. Somewhere either Evil Ring Bakura or Mar/lik makes a reference to cremation and spirits being taken to heaven with smoke which several things, but definitely not Ancient Egyptian. Marik/Malik meanwhile is clearly trying to head Arabic, along with Rishid, but then, hey, our sister is just Isis. Goddess McGoddess. Sometimes they're the same goddess! Her name could be Isis Isis or Ishtar Ishtar. Meanwhile, all the obviously 'occult because Christians think it is freaky' stuff. ~ancient egyptian pentagrams~~~This isn't a complaint, I guess so much as a 'Wow, I can kind of see the cultural spot the author was coming from and where he was aiming' kind of thing.

Wonder where things would have gone if the card games had not been latched onto the way they were.

Managed to forget how gross the pre-cardgames stuff was on the sexual harassment front. I'm glad there was a sort of explanation of everyone drifting away from being dick heads and that that decision was made. It got way more comfortable to read after no one was bringing Yugi p*rn on VHS.

Yugi looks better with a nose, glad we got that upgrade.

Interesting to watch the series style shift as it goes away from being horror to being over the top cardgames and friendship (with blood!). The first picture of Mokuba is fucking Jarring. Also noticed that the nicer a character is, the less their teeth are defined.

Glad manga did not go as completely off the fucking the rails about Marik's face. I never got as far as seeing him back in the day because college occurred, but I remember seeing pictures and stuff and being like, "what in the Fuck happened to that dude, I think the house style has collapsed in on itself"

Things the author Really Likes: motorcycles, belts, SHOES, holy shit the shoes. These are some of the most lovingly rendered sneakers I've ever seen. All the detail on his characters goes straight to their feet and then it's stretched upward until it forms stiff peaks. Gently fold in 3000 years of trauma and bake face down in a crumb coat of scattered mythology. Remove when you roll two zeros.

Where the fuck am I going to put the extremely large omnibus volumes of this comic I purchased in order to balance out how much I would be reading for free on the internet. I should have grasped that a three in one edition would be Thick and yet somehow I was still :O when it arrived. Have I strategically purchased volumes that contain my favorite parts, maybe, what's it to you will i eventually get the whole thing because incomplete book series gnaw on my soul? yes

Wish the transition from "I've murdered several people in delightfully karmic ways" to "all you need is friendship in your heart and cards in your hand" Yami Yugi/Pharaoh had been discussed more/transitioned better. Buddy, where did you get this approved for television high horse? Please go back to strangling people with yo-yos or at least tell me why you stopped.

I still can't tell anything that looks like a big robotic monster apart from any other big robotic monster. My dude, I can't tell cars apart, all these monsters look the same.

Yami Yugi fascinated me way more in highschool? Maybe because it was still super early and the anime was like 'we need to torture you about his origins WeEkLy. Now I'm just like 'wait hold on, can we go back to Bakura and Marik for a minute, there's some extreme unpacking to do here?' Those two are paying so much more in baggage fees here my guy wow

Violently uninterested in any of the spinoff media

#yugioh #yu gi oh #ygo #there you go i can't imagine any other way you would decide was necessary to tag this #perhaps now that i have thrown this up i can #something #i don't know how i was going to finish that sentence #shut up lady

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i-like-writing-stuff · 4 years

Text

four months; part 2 [five hargreeves x reader]

a/n: thank you all so so much for your support and feedback! i literally could not believe that the first part has over 200 notes and yall want a continuation like omagash??? im soft, thank you guys <3

here is the long awaited part two, but before we dive into that, i felt the need to ask yall if you want five to be aged up?? in most x reader i’ve read on this site, five is aged up, but I felt like, in my case, i didn’t really needed to mention that because i am only like two months older than the actor, and its not like im gonna write smut with him- gross. point is, idk. should i age him up tho??? idk what to do, so here are both aidan and timothee to soothe ur heart for this second part!! <3

(the gifs do not belong to me, lemme know if u know who made them so i can give credits- they’re real cute mah gawsh!!!)

alsoo if you want more five imagines or literally any other hargreeves sibling or fictional character ousside tua, feel free to leave a request in my inbox! kisses <3

summary: after a long family meeting and more booze, you decide to make a bold move and profess your buried feelings.

part 1

“Men are stupid shitheads.” You concluded, setting your flask on the counter, looking at the new bangs Allison had just cut for you.

Even in her drunken state, they seemed to be very nicely done. You were quite surprised by the way they turned out, but pleased nonetheless. It was a spontaneous decision, getting bangs. You had been sitting in the hair salon she was working at with her, Klaus and Vanya after a not so great family meeting.

Hugs were shared, true, but then arguments started and before you even knew it, Luther stormed out, Diego followed him, Five went missing for whatever business he had, and Klaus claimed that Ben was not even there- apparently, ghosts can’t time travel.

So, it was just the four of you, drunk in a hair salon, with too much alcohol and way too many scissors around you, complaining about how shitty your love lives could be.

“Amen.” Klaus raised his drink in the air, “I’ll drink to that.”

“Right?” Allison nodded, combing her second client, Klaus, “The nerve of Ray! I mean, one thing goes wrong and he’s on a warpath!” She vented, holding the bottle of liquor in her free hand, “I mean, doesn’t know who I am?! No, no! No, Ray- you know exactly who I am, you just can’t handle it!”

You watched with a raised brow as Vanya was out of zone, pretending to be shooting the long line of empty bottles gathered in front of her, as Allison kept on continuing her rant. Her husband had just seen her use her powers on the night they started the protest, and was now having a real hard time comprehending what was going on. You didn’t see him at home either, so you figured he may have been upset with you as well for maybe hiding the secret. Or maybe he thought you were like her, who knows?

“Hey, wouldn’t it be weird if Five grew up all hot?” Klaus suddenly asked, taking a drag out of his cigarette, as he got up from his seat to walk around the hair salon, “Wouldn’t that be weird?”

“Why would you even think of your brother like that?” You asked riddled, narrowing your eyes at the man as his sisters almost gagged at the thought.

“Oh, please, you’ve been thinking that, haven’t you?” Klaus asked, pointing at you as you took another swig from your nearly empty flask.

“I... I mean- he’s... Five... uh... no comment!” You suddenly declared, at loss of words, as you got up from your seat, trying to maintain your balance as you made your way towards the bottle of liquor to fill your flask again.

“When are you two gonna confess your feelings?” Allison asked with a groan, letting her head fall backwards as she sat on the chair, “It’s getting really tiring!”

“We have an apocalypse going on!” You argued, “There’s no time for feelings!”

“This is the perfect time for feelings!” Klaus chimed in, taking another drag out of his cigarette, “These might be your last six days on Earth! Do you want to die regretting that you never told Five how you felt about him?”

“I’m not having this conversation anymore.” You declared, out of arguments, as you poured liquor in your flask, “Why don’t we talk about Allison’s crush on Luther instead?”

“We have never even kissed!” Allison defended herself, causing Vanya to spin on her chair confused, looking between the three of you.

“Yeah, but you guys were making little sick moon-dog eyes at each other all through puberty and breakfasts and... all that.” Klaus waved her off, sipping from his own flask.

“Aren’t we all brothers and sisters, or...?” Vanya wondered confused, as you and Klaus snorted amused at her innocence.

“Well... technically...” Allison tried to find an excuse or explanation, but she was having a hard time putting her thoughts in place.

“Technically?” Klaus raised a brow, “If you....” He stammered, trying to regain his train of thought, “If you have to use the word technically, you’re already in trouble.”

“Okay, can we go back to Five and Y/N?” Allison tried to change the subject, “Or maybe at least help me save my marriage?”

“That’s like...” Klaus stumbled on his own feet, filling his flask again, as you leaned against Vanya’s chair curiously, “That’s like asking a nun how to hump someone’s leg! I mean, who in this room knows shit about relationships? This one?” He asked, pointing at Vanya, “In secret love with some farm Frau!”

“Her name’s Sissy.” Vanya informed him.

“Which is an improvement on her previous love interest.” He said, looking at you and Allison, as you shook your heads to slightly tell him to shut up, “...the serial killer.”

“What?!” Vanya yelled, looking between you and Allison for an explanation, but you just softly waved her off, promising to remind her later.

“And look at this one!” Klaus ignored the three of you, pointing at... well, you, “A fifty year old assassin, who got the chance to be a teen again, but she is too afraid to admit her feelings for the... wait, is Five a boy or a man?”

“Both?” You raised a brow, unsure of the answer.

“Meanwhile, I’m carrying a torch for a soldier I haven’t technically met yet, and Luther is in love with his sister.” Klaus waved you off, trying to keep his balance again on his feet.

“Okay, again- we are not biological!” Allison tried to defend herself once more, but Klaus simply ignored her.

“Face it, the healthiest long-term relationship in this family was when Five was banging that mannequin.” He said, making all of you nod in agreement, as you couldn’t help but confess, taking another chug out of your flask;

“I can’t believe I got to the point where I was jealous of Dolores.”

Okay, maybe ‘banging’ and ‘jealous’ were strong words, but you had to admit you were not that pleased when one of the first things that Five did when he got back to 2019, was go to some store to get back his plastic girlfriend who kept him company in the four decades he spent all by himself in the apocalypse.

You understood his mind, though. You would have gone insane as well if you had to be all alone after the end of the world, without another soul on the planet. Nonetheless, you still were maybe a tad too happy when he decided to return her to the store.

Leaving you the only woman he had eyes for, unbeknownst to you.

“I’m gonna tell Sissy that I love her.” Vanya suddenly declared, straightening her position confidently.

“You go, girl!” You cheered, clapping for your friend.

“I don’t want any secrets.” She said, making you and the other two nod in agreement, contemplating about your own lives.

“Yeah!” Allison said, getting up with the bottle of alcohol tightly clutched in her hand, “Yeah, yeah- you’re right! Yes, ‘cause, you know- if this all goes tits-up, the least I can do is be honest with my husband!

“Oh, does that mean I have to face my cult?” Klaus sighed, “I just hate group break-ups, it’s why I stopped dating twins!”

You pondered about it for a moment, in your state that was definitely not the most sober. You had a lot of alcohol coursing through your veins, but you felt like maybe it was better. You could think with your heart more than you could think with your brain, and your heart was telling you that your friends were right.

They all are getting themselves ready to take big risks in their lives, why shouldn’t you? They had a valid point; the world was gonna end in six days if you guys couldn’t find a way to solve this. Last time you didn’t have the brightest plan, so why should this time be a success? Reality hit you; there was a real big chance that you might die.

So why not just be honest with Five? What was the worst that could happen? You manage to save the world and Five rejects you? Big deal!

Well, it actually was a big deal.

“What if he rejects me?” You asked all of a sudden, causing the three siblings to turn to you, “What if I tell Five how I feel about him and he rejects me? I know maybe at my age I shouldn’t be this anxious about a man, but... it’s not like I’m going anywhere, I’m glued to the Hargreeves clan.”

And it was true. After the events of the 2019 apocalypse, right before you and the others got separated, you shared an adorable moment in which you confessed to each other how happy you were to have met and be taken into their family as one of their own.

“Normally, I’d say to not ponder on that for too... long.” Klaus slurred, “But given that it’s Five, you don’t even have to worry about that.”

“He’s right.” Allison shrugged, “That won’t be a problem.

“I have no memory of any of you, but from the hug I’ve seen you two share earlier- you’re not just friends.” Vanya spoke up, making you stare into nothingness for a moment.

I mean, it’s Five we are talking about. If he were to have any feelings, it’s not like he’d be honest with them or act, right? It would be up to you to make the first move.

You let out a long sigh, rubbing your hands on your upper arms, reminding yourself of the hug. It may have been the first time you and Five actually hugged, in all the years you’ve known each other. The way he held you close and nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, taking in your scent, feeling you in his arms, even if for him it had been only four days. You had to live with the thought that he may be dead for months.

And you hated that, you knew you wanted him alongside you. You wanted that little rude, at times obnoxious dipshit, with a soft heart- as much as he hated to admit it. You loved how much he cared about his family, about saving the world. Five is a great person; he is caring and has a big heart, as much as he tried to hide it behind his trashmouth.

“Fine!” You groaned, letting your head fall backwards, “I’ll tell Five I fucking love him and his dipshit face!”

“Yes!” Klaus clapped, as Allison and Vanya cheered proudly, “Come here!”

You and Vanya walked towards him, as Allison wrapped an arm around his waist, waiting for the two of you to skip towards them, pulling you into a group hug, as “Twistin’ the night away” by Sam Cooke blasted on the radio, causing the four of you to start a small dance party, letting for the first time in a long while your problems just go away.

For the sake of the song.

After a couple more hours of drinking, gossiping and dancing, the four of you decided to finally part ways and attend your promised business. Klaus went to deal with his cult, as Allison decided to be completely honest with her husband at home and Vanya was going to confess to Sissy.

As for you?

You were going to tell Five Hargreeves you were in love with him.

“Hey, dipshit!” You confidently yelled, running up the stairs of the store, trying to find Five.

“Y/N?” Five frowned, walking out of the kitchen with a coffee mug in his hands and a confused look on his face, “Are you... even more drunk? And did you get bangs- what the...?”

“Shut up.” You waved him off, walking towards him to grab the mug out of his hand to sober yourself up, “Why in the hell are you even drinking coffee at this hour?”

“I’m... trying to calm myself...” He frowned, watching as you chugged his freshly poured coffee.

“Normally I’d ask.” You said, setting the mug on the counter, shaking your head, “But right now what I have to say is more important.”

“Is that so?” Five raised a brow curiously, as you slowly slapped your cheeks, trying to get the room to stop moving, “Why don’t you go to bed?” He asked, gently pushing you towards the couch, “And we talk in the morning? I don’t really have time for this.”

“No!” You yelled, stopping in your tracks to poke his chest, “We don’t have to talk! I talk and you- you listen!” You said, poking his chest again, “You never have time for anything, all you can think of is your stupid apocalypse!”

“Oh yes, isn’t that a trivial thing to be thinking of?” He asked with a sarcastic smile, crossing his arms.

“I don’t need your sarcasm!” You yelled, poking his chest a third time, feeling him get more tense.

“I swear to God, Y/N, if you do that one more time-...” Five took in a deep breath, as he could feel as he was slowly losing his patience.

“Shut up!” You groaned, watching as his brows knitted in confusion, “I’m trying to confess my feelings for you, you moron!”

“W...What?” He asked, as his face suddenly softened, unfolding his arms.

“I’m in love with you!” You sighed, rubbing your face, “Okay? I-I am in love with you and I am trying to sober myself up, but I think I may have had too much to drink.”

“You think?” Five scoffed, slowly leading you towards the couch, “Are you sure you’re not saying this just because you have a ton of alcohol coursing through you?”

“Well... kinda, ‘cause if I were sober there was no way in hell I would have confessed.” You puffed, complying, as you let yourself guided by him, “Allison, Klaus and Vanya all convinced me that I should tell you, that we only have six days left on Earth and in case we don’t save it... I shouldn’t be going down with regrets.”

Five listened to your every word carefully, as you continuing venting about how his siblings spent the whole day trying to convince you to tell him about your feelings, as he slowly held your hands, as you took a seat on the couch. He nodded at your words to let you know that he was listening, as he took two pillows off the armchairs beside, placing them at one end, softly pushing you down.

“...and then Klaus said that he hates group breakups.” You said, not even noticing what was going on, feeling your lids get heavier once your head met the pillow.

“Not a surprise there...” Five muttered, grabbing the blanket that was rested on top of the couch, placing it over you.

“Are you trying to dismiss me?” You wondered, but still making yourself more comfortable, as you sat on your side, with your head facing Five, who knelt in front of you tired.

He bit back a smile, watching as you slowly closed your eyes. He knew you were extremely drunk, he could see that in the way exhaust took over you. Not only you had a lot of alcohol in your system, but you’ve also had some long couple of days, and some longer ones were ahead of you until you knew for a fact the world was safe once more.

“I don’t know how it is, that you’re the one person who actually makes me feel... soft.” He confessed, watching your lips curve into a smile at his words, “You... drunken idiot.”

“I regret nothing.” You said proudly, as Five couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, softly stroking your hair to help you fall asleep sooner.

“We’ll see about that in the morning.” He smirked amused, watching as you pouted.

“You never gave me an answer, you know.” You pointed out, letting his soft touch calm you down, as you felt sleep slowly take over you.

“You never gave me a question.” He retorted, knowing for sure that if your eyes were opened, you would roll them at him.

“I think you like to hear me say that I am in love with you, it’s the third time I have to say it.” You said, slowly placing your hands under your pillow, making yourself more comfortable.

“I am happy to see that you still know how to count.” Five said, placing some wild strands of hair behind your ear.

“Screw you.” You said, making him grin, as he went back to stroking your hair.

“In this whole... shitty situation I managed to get myself into, you, Y/N, might as well be the only thing keeping me sane... surprisingly.” Five frowned at the last bit, watching as you opened your eyes, shifting your head to watch him, “I love you too, moron.”

“I never said I love you.” You smirked, teasing him as he rolled his eyes.

“You little chipmunk...” Five sighed, shaking his head in disbelief amused, as you leaned into his touch more, closing your eyes, pleased with yourself.

“Yeah, but you still love me.” You said, not once dropping that smirk on your lips.

“You’re impossible, did you know that?” He wondered, resting his forearm on the couch beside you, as he knelt on the floor, trying to make himself more comfortable, noticing the way you were enjoying the scalp massage... for free.

“A little bit.” You slowly shrugged, wrapping your arms around his, once you felt it beside you.

Five watched with a soft smile as you pulled his arms closer to your face, nuzzling into it with a satisfied smile, happy that you listened to your friends.

And deep down, so was Five thanking his siblings.

#tua #the umbrella academy #the umbrella academy x reader #the umbrella academy imagine #the umbrella academy imagines #number five #five hargreeves #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves imagine #five hargreeves imagines

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c-swirlz · 3 years

Text

Pure Imagination

Summary: Thomas has never really questioned the existence of humanoid fragments of his personality, but when strange dreams start worming their way into his sleeping hours, he decides it’s time to get some answers. Meanwhile, Logic, Creativity and Morality are dealing with a few of their own problems.

Relationship(s): None

Warning(s): Panic attack, swearing

[AO3 link]

This was written for the TSS Fanworks Collective’s April Reverse Mini Bang challenge. The rules of the challenge were simple: claim a piece of submitted art and write fic inspired by it. The art I chose was drawn by @amayakumiko, and it can be found here.

Everyone has an imagination. From the elderly to the newborns, everyone is capable of warping reality within their own head. Some imaginations are tame. Others are wild. Some people imagine life in another country and the adventures they could have. Others imagine life in a fantasy world where society’s rules don’t apply. Everyone’s imagination is different. That’s what makes it such a special thing.

There are a handful of people who are more imaginative than the rest of humanity. They’re a rare breed, and it is said only three are born across a ten-year period. Of course, such powerful imaginations can’t go to waste, so it has been decided that a gift shall be bestowed upon every individual who possesses it. The first to receive this gift shall be a boy named Thomas Sanders.

*****

In an ordinary house on an ordinary street, a shadow looms over the small crib five month old Thomas is sleeping in. A leather pouch is opened, revealing many different colours of shimmering glitter. The dark blue and indigo glitter is retrieved, and with unnatural precision, it is sprinkled onto Thomas.

The glitter glows brightly. Thomas is surrounded by an aura that glows both dark blue and indigo. The glitter dissolves, and the aura fades along with it.

Red glitter is retrieved from the pouch. It’s sprinkled onto Thomas, causing him to stir but not wake. The aura that momentarily surrounds him glows a bright imperial red.

More glitter is retrieved. This time, it’s light blue and cyan. Once again, Thomas’ aura adopts the colours as he’s showered by the magical substance. The aura glows dark blue, indigo, imperial red, light blue and cyan all at once before it fades again.

Thomas stirs again. His bottom lip trembles and he whimpers. Unlike before, he doesn’t relax. Several other colours of glitter are sprinkled onto him, and his face twitches as it falls onto the delicate skin of his cheeks and forehead. His restlessness grows as his aura appears once again. It glows a variety of different colours.

Thomas’ lips part and a quiet, distressed noise escapes. His tiny eyes blink open, and they well up with unshed tears.

His aura fades. He sobs loudly. His parents wake up and scurry out of their shared bed frantically to check on him, and on the ground near his crib, they find an empty leather pouch.

They’ve never seen it before.

*****

Logic /ˈlɒdʒɪk/ NOUN Reasoning conducted or assessed according to strict principles of validity.

Logan has no idea how he — or his fellow Sides, for that matter — came to be. He knows they haven’t always had physical forms. He knows they haven’t always been able to speak to Thomas face-to-face. He knows there’s no logical explanation, yet he’s always searching for one.

Fragments of an individual’s personality shouldn’t have an independent conscience. They shouldn’t have physical forms. They shouldn’t be able to do things no other human can.

Logan knows everything Thomas does. Or, more accurately, he knows everything Thomas has learned over the years, and he retains that knowledge even after Thomas has forgotten it. Science is something Thomas seems to remember the most about, but math… oh, math. The amount of mathematical formulas Thomas has forgotten frustrates Logan to no end.

Thomas and Logan share a mind. They share their knowledge, and that knowledge helps them grow. Thomas asks questions, and most of the time, Logan is the one who answers them. He’s an intellectual, but he doesn’t know everything.

He wishes he did.

*****

“Logic?”

Thomas’ tentative call tugs gently in Logan’s chest. When Logan rises up, he finds his Whole sitting at the desk in the corner of the room, his head in his hands.

“What can I do for you, Thomas?”

Thomas lowers his hands and sighs. He gestures to the sheet of paper on the desk and picks up the pencil sitting beside it. “Homework.”

Logan’s head tilts. “You… require assistance?”

Thomas nods.

“Have you not asked your teachers for help?”

Thomas averts his gaze, bites his lip and shakes his head. “I would, but I don’t want it to seem like I wasn’t paying attention to the lectures. Plus, I... feel like I ask them for help a little too often.”

Logan’s expression softens. He approaches Thomas, careful not to get too close. They still don’t know what will happen if they make physical contact with their Whole, and Logan doesn’t plan on being the one to find out.

“What are you having trouble with?”

Thomas moves to point out what question he’s stuck on, but stops. There’s silence for a beat, then a quiet clatter breaks it when Thomas puts the pencil down.

“Y’know what, nevermind. I have plenty of time to finish this, it’s fine.”

Logan’s brow furrows. Thomas stands and moves to his bed. Logan follows, but chooses to stand nearby as Thomas drapes himself across the blanket, effectively wrinkling it.

“Is something the matter, Thomas?”

Thomas sits up and his gaze snaps up to meet Logan’s eyes. “No,” he says, far too quickly.

“Are you sure?” Logan asks. He takes a seat beside Thomas, and he pushes down the odd urge to place a hand on his Whole’s shoulder. “You seem distressed. If something is bothering you, talking about it may help.”

Thomas sighs and lowers his head. His bangs flop down, partially hiding his face.

“I’ve been having… dreams. Weird ones.”

Logan raises an eyebrow. “It’s not uncommon for someone to have strange dreams every now and again—“

“That’s the thing,” Thomas interrupts. He lifts his head and turns it to lock eyes with Logan. “Logic, I’ve been having these dreams for days now, and they won’t stop.”

Logan blinks. “Ah. That is… rather concerning. Can you remember any of your dreams?”

Thomas’ brow furrows in thought. “Well, I remember I almost drowned in glitter Monday night.” He laughs. “That was weird.”

Logan summons a notepad and jots something down. Thomas waits patiently for him to stop scribbling before he speaks again.

“Wednesday night was pretty freaky. I was in some really dark room, and I could hear whispering. I remember seeing weird flashes of colour, but I wasn’t able to get a proper look before they disappeared.”

Logan nods and jots another note down. “You didn’t experience any odd dreams on Tuesday?”

Thomas shakes his head, then pauses. “Wait, shouldn’t you know all this? You’re part of me.”

Logan tucks the pen in his grasp behind his ear. “Dreams are generally Creativity’s department. Unlike him, the rest of us are not automatically made aware of them.”

“Huh.”

The room falls into an awkward silence, save for the tapping of Thomas’ forefinger on the desk. Logan fixes his tie and cleans the lenses of his glasses, just to give him something to do.

“Why am I having these dreams, Logic?”

Logan blinks. “What?”

Thomas looks down at his bare feet, which are hovering just above the carpet. “I wanna know why I’m having these dreams. There has to be a reason, and I guess I just assumed you’d know.”

There’s a lump in Logan’s throat. He swallows, but it doesn’t dislodge.

“I…”

Thomas glances up at Logan. Logan puts on a brave face and looks his Whole in the eye.

“As I said before, dreams are not my department. It would be best to consult Creativity if your concern grows.”

The way Thomas’ expectant face falls makes Logan’s heart sink. He wishes he had an answer, he really does, but nothing is coming to mind. He doesn’t know what’s going on, nor why Thomas is having such strange dreams.

Knowledge is his entire existence. He has to know.

He sinks out. For the rest of the evening, he stays in his room, conducting research and jotting down notes.

He doesn’t eat. He doesn’t sleep.

He has to know.

*****

Creativity /ˌkriːeɪˈtɪvɪti/ NOUN The use of imagination or original ideas to create something; inventiveness.

Roman is a dreamer. He’s a performer; an artist. He’s the one who’s always ready to slay any monsters lurking in the shadows. He’s the hero of the story, and any villains who dare to cross his path will be shown no mercy.

Thomas is an actor. Saying he’s a good one would be an understatement. Both he and Roman are well rehearsed in putting on a mask and performing for an audience, and they’ve gotten rather good at it over the years.

Thomas loves theatre. So does Roman.

Thomas loves Disney. So does Roman.

Thomas has dreams. So does Roman. Not the sort of dreams you have when you’re asleep, but rather aspirations, ambitions and ideals.

Roman shouldn’t have them. Dreams, he means. He’s a facet of a person’s personality. He isn’t an individual. Thomas’ dreams are the ones that matter; his are irrelevant.

It’s one of the many problems Roman has with his existence.

He doesn’t like talking about it.

*****

“Prince?”

Roman greets Thomas with an exaggerated regal bow as he rises up. “Good afternoon, Thomas! What can I do for you on this fine day?”

Thomas puts his phone aside and starts fiddling with his fingers. After a moment, he places his hands on either side of him, and his fingers curl around the soft material of the blanket underneath him.

“I talked to Logic yesterday.” Thomas pauses, but only for a beat. “I told him about the weird dreams I’ve been having.”

Roman sighs. “Yes, I heard about that. Your dreams these past few nights have been quite strange, and oddly enough, they all seem to be connected. Logic’s been trying to figure out what they mean, but I don’t think he’s had much luck so far.”

“Do you have any idea what’s going on?”

Roman shakes his head. “I’m afraid not. Picking out the symbolism of the dreams I oversee isn’t exactly my strong suit.”

Thomas looks away. “Oh.”

Roman smiles warmly. “Don’t fret, Thomas. We’ll figure this out together, okay? These questions won’t go unanswered.”

Thomas glances at Roman, and the corner of his lips curl upward.

“I’ll take your word for it.”

Roman grins and starts to sink out.

“Hey, wait.”

Half-submerged in the floor, Roman stops. He rises back up and raises an eyebrow.

Thomas stands and starts fiddling with his fingers again. “I, uh… sorry about Thursday. I know you wanted me to go for the lead in the play.”

Roman waves a dismissive hand, ignoring the sudden tightness in his chest. “Don’t sweat it, Tommy Salami. It’s just a school play, no big deal. They’re practically the same as the ones you participated in back in high school, anyway.”

Thomas giggles. “Tommy Salami? That’s a new one.”

“I have plenty more; I’ve been brainstorming all week.”

Roman and Thomas laugh, and just for a moment, Roman’s tight chest loosens. As their laughter dies down, Roman feels the tightness return.

He ignores it.

*****

Morality [məˈralɪti] NOUN Principles concerning the distinction between right and wrong or good and bad behaviour.

Patton’s job is simple. He determines what’s right and wrong. He makes sure Thomas is honest and encourages him to put others before himself. When Thomas was younger, Patton would repeat the same mantra over and over again.

“Don’t kill, don’t steal. Be honest. Help others and put them first. Be a good person, kiddo.”

When Thomas was younger, his sense of morality was fairly streamlined. Now, slowly but surely, things are becoming more complicated.

Patton hates that. He shouldn’t, but he does.

The moral dilemmas Thomas faces on a daily basis are growing more complex. Though Patton will never admit it, he’s struggling to keep up. It’s getting more and more difficult to determine what the ‘right thing’ to do is, and the pressure is always on Patton to make the call. He’s supposed to know, but sometimes…

Sometimes he doesn’t.

*****

“I’ve figured it out!”

Logan rises up in Patton’s room, grinning from ear to ear. His glasses are slightly askew and he has a large pile of notebooks and stray pieces of paper stacked precariously in his arms. Patton scrambles over to help Logan by taking some of his load, but then has to quickly dump them onto his bed as his arms begin to shake under the weight he was unprepared to carry.

Patton turns around to face Logan and laughs. “Wow, Logan, I haven’t seen you this happy in… well, ever! But, uh… what did you figure out, exactly?”

Logan rolls his eyes and places his load on the ground at his feet. He fixes his glasses, straightens his tie and runs a hand through his hair a few times before clearing his throat. Patton’s heart sinks at the way Logan’s expression quickly settles back into one of cold indifference.

“I think I’ve finally managed to figure out why we exist in this particular form,” Logan gestures to himself, “and why Thomas is able to summon us to his side at will.”

“This is about all those weird dreams Thomas keeps having, right? Roman mentioned it the other day.”

Logan nods. “It is.” He pauses. “Well, partially. I believe the dreams are a result of an event that occurred during an earlier stage of Thomas’ life. I'm thinking it’s either a result of some kind of genetic mutation, or a genetic alteration.”

Patton blinks.

“...What about the glitter?”

Logan stills.

“What.”

Patton’s brow furrows. “Wasn’t there glitter in one of Thomas’ dreams? I could’ve sworn Roman mentioned it…”

Logan blinks. Slowly, a realisation dawns on him.

“Oh, of course, the glitter.” Logan gently hits the side of his head with his palm. “I completely forgot that was a factor.” He sighs and pushes his glasses up his nose. “Now I’ll have to revise everything,” he mutters.

Patton frowns. “Maybe you should take a break, Logan. You’ve been working on this,” he gestures to the stacks of notebooks, “for a really long time.”

“I’ve taken plenty of breaks, Patton.”

Patton crosses his arms. “I mean a proper one.”

Logan huffs. “Patton, I’m not a child. You do not have to… monitor me.”

Patton’s eyes go wide. “Monitor—“ He stops, squeezes his eyes shut and massages his temples. He releases a slow, steady breath before he opens his eyes and lowers his arms. “I’m just trying to look out for you.”

Logan scoffs and looks away.

“Logan, what’s gotten into you?”

Logan chooses to ignore the question as he retrieves his notebooks.

“I really should’ve expected this.”

“Wha — What—“ Patton splutters. “Expected what?”

“You are the heart. I am the mind. It’s common for us to be at odds, especially when you’d always rather Thomas spend time with friends rather than study.”

When Logan looks at Patton, there’s fire in his eyes. He’s glaring daggers, and Patton has to force himself not to flinch away.

“What’s that got to do with anything?” Patton’s voice is loud, and he’s very close to yelling. He hopes he won’t have to resort to such an extreme.

Logan shakes his head. “Nothing.”

He sinks out, and Patton is left alone in Nostalgia Nirvana as guilt settles in his chest like a pebble.

*****

Anxiety /aŋˈzʌɪəti/ NOUN A feeling of worry, nervousness, or unease about something with an uncertain outcome.

A nervous disorder marked by excessive uneasiness and apprehension, typically with compulsive behaviour or panic attacks.

Thomas is floating. Around him is a pitch-black void. Above him, a hand comes into view, sparkling glitter pinched between its fingers.

The glitter falls. It’s a variety of different colours, and it almost looks like a rainbow.

Thomas reaches for the glitter, wanting to feel it between his fingertips. The moment the glitter makes contact with his hand, it turns a deep purple — or is it violet? Thomas barely has any time to process the change before he finds himself falling. As he falls, he swears he can hear a voice, but it’s extremely muffled, as if he’s hearing it from underwater. Slowly, however, the voice grows louder, and Thomas can almost hear what it’s saying—

“Thomas!”

Thomas’ anxiety spikes. His eyes fly open and he sits up, barely aware enough to recognise where he is. He’s faintly aware of his chest heaving and the uneven breaths he’s taking, but that’s about it.

Someone nearby mutters a swear, and the next thing Thomas knows, he’s being guided off the bed — his bed, he was in his bed — and onto the carpeted floor. He really should be more concerned about the stranger in his bedroom, but oddly enough, he feels like he can trust them.

“Breathe, Thomas. Four-seven-eight, remember?”

Yes, Thomas remembers. Unfortunately, his chest feels like it’s crushing itself with every breath he takes.

The stranger gathers Thomas’ hands into their own and places them against their chest. Thomas can feel their heart pounding.

“You feel that?”

Thomas nods.

“Cool. Now, I want you to focus on that and copy my breathing, okay?”

Thomas nods again. Despite his aching chest, he allows the stranger to guide him through the exercise. As he breathes, he can hear the stranger murmuring words of encouragement.

“Keep it up, Thomas. That’s good, keep going.”

Eventually, after what seems like hours but is really only a few minutes, Thomas is able to breathe normally, and his chest no longer aches with every breath. The haze of panic is fading, and Thomas is finally able to get a good look at the stranger who helped him. They’re wearing an unzipped black plaid jacket with the hood up, and Thomas can see they’re wearing a black shirt underneath. The hood plus their bangs makes it very difficult to see their face, though Thomas is pretty sure he can see eyeshadow smudged underneath their eyes.

The only word that comes to mind to describe them is ‘edgy’.

The stranger mutters something under their breath before reaching up and pulling the hood off their head. They run a hand through their hair, and Thomas can’t help but notice it looks almost identical to his own.

Just like that, everything clicks.

“You’re a Side.”

The Side smiles wryly in Thomas’ direction. “Sure am.”

“I have more than three?!”

“Clearly.” The Side’s voice is monotone, and Thomas can’t help but think he’s being mocked. “Oh, and I’m Anxiety, by the way, thanks for asking.”

Thomas very quickly decides he does not like this new Side.

Anxiety sits back on his heels. “That was one heck of a dream you were having, huh? Though I guess that’s nothing compared to all the others you’ve been having.”

“You know about those?”

“Well, duh.” Anxiety stands and stretches. Thomas does the same. “I kinda have to be able to monitor your dreams so I can wake you up if shit gets real.”

“Do you know anything about them?”

Anxiety raises an eyebrow. “You’re gonna have to be more specific, kid.”

Thomas’ internal groan is very loud, and he’s glad only he can hear it. “Well, we’ve been trying to figure out what they mean for weeks now, but—“

“Magic.”

Thomas blinks. “What?”

Anxiety perches himself on the end of Thomas’ bed. “These dreams are a result of you being exposed to magic as a baby.”

Thomas’ brow furrows. “Are you messing with me?”

“Nope,” Anxiety responds, popping the ‘p’. “I know it sounds absurd, like something Princey would come up with, but I’m serious. How else do you think we exist?”

“You expect me to believe the reason I have Sides is because of magic?”

“Yep.”

“Yeah, no. Hate to break it to you, bud, but magic doesn’t exist.”

Anxiety pulls his jacket tighter around himself. “That’s Logic talking. If magic didn’t exist, then nor would we.”

“You’re making absolutely no sense.”

“I’d like to think I’m making perfect sense.”

Thomas’ teeth grind. “I’d like you to know that you’re really starting to get on my nerves.”

Anxiety smirks. Thomas glares. For a moment, the two of them are locked in a staring contest.

Thomas loses.

Anxiety cackles. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna take my leave before my presence attracts… unwanted attention. Well, unwanted for me, not so much for you.”

Anxiety stands up and prepares to sink out, but pauses. He snaps his fingers as if he’s just remembered something, then turns to face Thomas.

“Hey, by the way, you might wanna check in with those three. I hear they’re not doing so hot.”

Anxiety sinks out, but not before shooting Thomas a lazy two-fingered salute. Once he’s gone, Thomas’ face falls and he flops back onto his bed, not bothering to fix the blankets. He grabs his pillow and shoves his face into it, allowing it to muffle the extremely loud groan he can finally release.

“Why is my personality so complicated?”

#april reverse mini bang #tss fanworks collective #sanders sides #sanders sides oneshot #character!thomas #logan sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #panic attack #swearing #swirlz scrawls

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scarletosprey · 4 years

Text

Fanfic

Harry finally becomes a true Weasley after marrying the love of his life-Ginny, well she is the only person who is suitable for him....or is she?

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Who does he likes the most?

Ron stumbled into Burrow’s kitchen scowling. Everyone was gathered in the kitchen for breakfast. Bill was sitting beside Charlie. Mr Weasley had left early for ministry. Percy was also there who has returned after the public announcement of the resurrection of Voldemort. He had begged for forgiveness to his family. His parents had readily forgiven him, but the siblings were still sore to him sometimes. Mrs Weasley was busy making breakfast for everyone. Only Harry and Ginny was absent from the kitchen.

Ron groaned and flopped on a chair.

“Oh you are up dear, What would you like for breakfast? ” Mrs Weasley asked him.

“I don’t think I can eat anything right now.” said Ron in a disgruntled voice.

Every single person’s head snapped at him at his statement.

“Ron are you all right”, Hermione asked bewildered. Cause Ron can stop doing anything but eating.

“Are you ok? You or not sick are you?” Mrs Weasley started fussing over him, checking his head for temperature.

“Did you heard what I heard dear Georgie!” Fred exclaimed with a mock panicked look

“Oh, surely Freddie” George replied, copying the look of his twin.

“Dear Ronnikins denied the food…the food.”

“Next thing we know will be Malfoy kissing our shoes.”

Everyone else would have laughed at twins banter if they weren’t busy deducing reason behind Ron’s denial for food.

“Stop it you two. After seeing your best mate and sister eating each other’s face off –first thing in the morning, anyone will lose their appetite.” Ron said Scowling

Harry and Ginny had got together after Harry arrived at Burrow two weeks ago. He had realized his feelings for her during the end of his fifth year. She helped him through his grief for the loss of Sirius. He has confessed his feelings to her before it would have been too late as she has mentioned something about Dean Thomas on a return train ride. Ginny waved his concern. She told him that she had said that to piss-off Ron because he was acting like a overprotective git. They were together since then. Everyone was happy for the couple. Except for Ron, as he was having difficulty accepting the fact that his best friend likes his younger sister in that way. He always made the gagging sound even if they just held hands. Ginny was getting irritated by his behaviour. And now he has seen his baby sister and best mate snogging first thing in the morning.

Mrs Weasley heaved a sigh of relief after hearing that nothing was wrong with his health.

Hermione rolled her eyes. She had had this conversation with Ron many times. Many times she had to distract Ron when an argument seemed rising between him and Ginny.

“Honesty Ron you’re just overreacting.” She said throwing him an irritated look.

But Weasley brother’s faces were contorted.

“Well we’ll just have to accept this fact.” Bill said acting as mature big brother all though he didn’t like the mental image of his sister snogging Harry.

“I knew she had a crush on him but never thought Ginny could date him. It was just silly fangirl crush actually.” Charlie said thoughtfully

“True, but she matured.” Hermione said catching everyone’s attention

She continued, “Ginny initially had that fangirl crush but she grew out of that. she even dated one other guy, that’s when she started seeing the real harry. Harry needs someone who can see him as harry as a real person and not as some hero.

Everyone just stared at her.

Fred and George had to my comment after such thought-full explanation-so they did,

“Besides he just loves Weasleys” said Fred.

“Just can’t resist the Weasley charm.” George said, merrily tucking into his breakfast.

Hermione rolled her eyes smiling fondly

“And that’s why he doesn’t have any other options. There aren’t many Weasley girls. Ginny is the only girl born in seven generations in Weasley family.” Bill mused out loud.

“He doesn’t have many options cause he is walking straight.” Fred huffed.

“If only he swung another way he would have had six options to choose from.” said George.

“And he would have chosen me seeing that I am his favourite.” Fred said and continued eating.

“Excuse me we both are his favourite, so why would he choose only you?” George asked crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“Because I am a most handsome twin, everyone knows that.” Fred said that as if stating obvious.

George was about to restore but Bill cut in.

Bill brushed his ponytail before looking up at them and saying, “If we are going on looks then sorry brothers I think I am most handsome Weasley. So he would have chosen me.”

“You see we are talking about a boy here and seeing that I am one who is into a boy, his natural choice should be me.” Charlie stated matter-of-factly.

“But we are speaking hypothetically. It is not important whether you are gay or not.” Percy waved away Charlie’s argument.

“Percy shut up if you don’t have any valid argument. And he would never choose you so shut up.” Charlie glaring at Percy.

“Of course it is a valid argument and how would you know that he wouldn’t choose me,” Percy asked him.

“Why dear brother”-Fred

“Want to choose one all for yourself.”-George said smirking at Percy, causing him to sputter incoherently.

“As if he has any chance.” It came from Ron, who was silent during the argument.

Percy raised his eyebrow and said “why not? Then tell Ron who has a chance with Harry.”

“Yes you are his best friend you will be able to judge precisely.”- Bill

Ron stared at his brothers as if they are small children and he is teaching them two plus two is four and said “Of course it would be me. I am his best friend after all. I know him better than any of you. And if you had forgotten I am the one whom he had rescued from the black lake during the second task in Triwizard tournament which means I am the person whom he will miss the most.”

Everyone was quiet for a minute. Then Charlie exclaimed suddenly “We need a fair judge.”

Everyone nodded in agreement.

Fred scanned the table. His eyes stopped on bushy-haired girl and his lips turned into an evil smile.

“Dear Hermione you are looking magnificent today.” said Fred.

“Yes absolutely gorgeous.” George continued knowing what Fred was trying to do.

“Stunning”

“Charming”

“Ok ok shut up, I am not judging which Weasley boy has a chance with Harry Game.” Hermione said frowning at them.

“Come on Hermione, you would be the perfect judge. You are his best friend and you are not competing either.” said Ron in an attempt to convince her, hoping that she would be partial to him..

“Competing, honestly Ronald.” Hermione said exasperated.

Harry and Ginny entered the kitchen. No one noticed them except Hermione as they had resumed their previous argument.

“What’s going on?” Ginny asked piling food on her plate.

“Ah! Just the man we wanted to see.” said Charlie looking happily at Harry.

“Go on, tell them, Harry, you would choose me upon them any day,” Ron told Harry passing him the butter.

Harry was confused as to what was going on and seeing at Ginny she was in the same state as him.

“Ron don’t pressure him, let him decide for himself,” Bill told Ron glaring at him.

“Harrykins just tell them I am most handsome and close the topic.”-Fred

“First of all we look alike and why you when we have already decided that we both are his favourite.” George turned to Fred frowning.

Charlie growled at them. “Will you just stop praising yourselves.”

“Everyone be silent. Let us ask Harry what he thinks.”-Percy said solemnly.

Harry was now extremely confused. Were they fighting over him? No, they won’t do that, would they? Well, they were Weasleys and they can do absolutely anything. He had had the first-hand experience at that. He shot an enquiring look at Hermione. She was trying hard not to laugh at them ….or him.

“Alright shut up and speak one by one.” Ginny said over the raised voices.

“Ginny we were just wondering that who would Harry chose among us if he swung the other way,” Bill stated calmly

Harry and Ginny kept staring at them until Ginny burst out laughing. That set Hermione on laughter fit. Harry can’t understand what they were finding amusing in this situation where he felt more and more uncomfortable by passing minute.

“This is serious Ginny,” Ron said sending her irritated look.

Still chuckling Ginny said, “Of course it is Ron.” Then she turned to Harry and asked him managing a straight look “What do you think Harry? Who would you dump me for?”

Harry let his head fall on the table with a groan. Still, he could hear the boys arguing and girls laughing their heads off.

Mrs Weasley entered the kitchen listening to the bickering of her children and honorary children.

“What’s the racket?”

“Mum…Your sons are trying to steal my boyfriend.” Ginny managed to tell between her laughs.

“Boys leave the poor boy alone. I have told you not to threaten him.” Mrs Weasley scolded her son.

“We are doing nothing like that.”-Bill

“Then what are you on about.” Mrs. Weasley asked narrowing her eyes suspiciously.

All boys looked at each other, trying to come with reasons to tell their mother.

“Mrs Weasley they were doing quite the opposite. They were fighting for…err…what can we say…Harry’s affection.” Hermione told her looking in amusement.

In the meanwhile, Harry had gulped down his breakfast. He stood up thanked Molly and slowly walked towards the kitchen door.

Ron saw him and said loudly ”Harry at least answer us.”

But had leapt in the run towards backyard already.

“I think he doesn’t want to disappoint anyone by choosing me.” Fred stated and started the argument once again.

#hinny #hinny fluff #weasley #weasley family #Harry*Ginny #hinny fanfic #weasley brothers

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kushamikaitou · 3 years

Text

A dusty attic

Akechi hadn't fully deduced what he hoped to accomplish by spending time with Akira Kurusu. In truth, it was a puzzle he actively avoided because his train of thought tended to veer into uncomfortable territory when he examined it too closely. Certainly there were plenty of valid reasons to maintain a relationship with Kurusu - information gathering, enemy infiltration, calculated flirting as a means to distract. Sure, he never hesitated to let Kurusu know how much he enjoyed their little dates, but that was for Kurusu's benefit of course. And yet a niggling little voice at the back of his mind reminded him that those reasons were justification rather than cause, a bud of concern that there was too much truth to his words and the primary reason he chose to spend time with Kurusu was that he simply did enjoy the other boy's company.

These were the thoughts Akechi tried to force out of his mind on the walk from Yongen-jaya station to Cafe Leblanc one cloudy Saturday afternoon in early November. It had taken him all of twenty seconds to accept an invitation to join Kurusu in his bedroom for a horror movie marathon, and it wasn't until after he had agreed that he considered what he'd committed to, or why he'd been so eager. It was something in the wording of the text he'd realized, as if there was an implication that the selected films might be too frightening for him to handle. Akechi was no coward, and he made that perfectly clear in his response. "Cool, I'll make popcorn," Kurusu had replied.

He exhaled sharply and pushed open the door to the cafe. Sakura gave him a curt nod from behind the counter. "Kid's upstairs, waiting for you."

"Ah... thank you. Excuse me." He heard Sakura chuckle softly behind him and grumble something about youth as he headed to the back of the shop.

He knocked softly on the banister and Kurusu all but leapt from where he was lounging on the couch. "Hey, you made it," he said with a cheeky grin. On the table beside him was a large bowl of popcorn and two mugs of coffee. "Ready for some nightmare fuel?"

"I hardly think a few blockbuster films will reduce me to nightmares, but I'm happy to indulge nonetheless. Will your cat not be joining us today?"

"Nah, he's not into horror and gore. I think he's off sneaking into a rom-com in Shibuya with Ann." Akira glanced over his shoulder as if expecting Morgana to yowl in protest and Akechi stifled a chuckle as he removed his coat and draped it neatly over the railing.

"So." Akira began casually, strolling toward the back of the room. "We can sit on the couch if you want, but... the bed might be more comfy. I got some pillows I can prop up."

"This is your home after all, so I will defer to you." He gave Kurusu a quick wink and didn't miss the dusting of pink on the other boy's cheeks.

"Right this way, then." He gestured toward the mattress laid atop several old milk crates.

Akechi placed his coffee on the shelf next to the bed and sat down carefully, not wanting to crack the altogether precarious arrangement of the "bed." Akira fell beside him in a haphazard flop, and in his wake a cloud of dust billowed from the mattress. On an inhale, Akechi felt a sharp prickle in his sinuses. The room typically had a fair amount of dust floating through it, he had noticed the few times he'd joined the Phantom Thieves there for a meeting, but he'd never been quite so close to the source of it. He wondered for a moment how Kurusu was able to sleep at all in such conditions.

Not wanting to derail the plans or make things uncomfortable, he willed his nose to cease its itching and his eyes not to water. Kurusu, meanwhile, grabbed the bowl of popcorn from where he'd set it on the chair next to the bed and sidled up next to him. "Alrighty, we're starting with Pach Saw. Here we go, last chance to chicken out."

"Of course not. Unless that is what you desi-hh..." His eyes fluttered, the sneeze refused to be held back any longer and exploded with a grunt of breath into his arm. "My apologies. What you desire?"

"Um... bless you. Nope, I'm good. Popcorn?" Akira pressed play on the remote and shifted the bowl a bit to his left but refused to look Akechi in the eye, flushed a bashful shade of red. Akechi gave him a discerning look, contemplating the curious reaction before returning his attention to the movie.

He grabbed a handful of popcorn and settled into Akira's side, toeing the line of flirtation as always. The exposition was nearly complete when he was overcome by three more desperate rapid-fire sneezes, each more violent than the last, his body curling in on itself in an attempt to absorb the shock.

"Wow, are you OK?" Akira touched his arm lightly, rigidly, his face now crimson. "Here, I'll grab you some tissues." He shifted off the bed and reached for the workbench to his right.

"Oh, don't mind me. Though... yes, actually tissues would be rather helpful." Akechi sniffed, arm still covering his nose, trying to ward off the next set until the tissues were in his hand. Kurusu certainly was acting strangely. They'd become bolder and bolder over the past few months with their lighthearted competitive flirting, and in each incident the boy had seemed nearly unflappable. Yet he'd barely touched Kurusu today and here he was coming apart at the seams. Why was his composure suddenly eluding him?

"Of course." Akira handed him a customized tissue box with a black and white cat on the side that looked suspiciously like Morgana, still observing him with judgement even when miles away.

Akechi muttered a quick thanks and yanked one from the box just in time to double over with a renewed fit, breath hitching wildly in between violent bursts. Tears prickled at the corners of his eyes and he finished the set with a loud blow as the first victim fell to a bloody chainsaw on the screen behind them. "Whew, excuse me for interrupting the movie you were looking forward to. I believe this mattress is a bit dustier than what I'm ah-hh accustomed to. One moment." He held up the index finger of his right hand and sneezed once more into his left elbow. Through tears he eyed the cloud of dust in the air, which seemed to never settle but circled above them like fish in a tank, and then blew again sharply into the tissue and dabbed his eyes. He sensed the pressure of grey eyes staring in his direction, but when he turned his attention to Akira the other boy was turning his gaze toward the remote.

"No problem, we can rewind. Sorry about the dust..." Akira's voice was barely above a mumble, eyes fixed on his hands in his lap and face flushed a deep shade of vermillion. Akechi's curiosity got the better of him. He narrowed his eyes toward the boy next to him and placed a delicate hand on his shoulder.

"Kurusu, are you alright? You seem to be quite troubled by the effect the dust is having on me. I assure you it's not a problem I can't manage." He scrubbed his crinkling nose with the back of his wrist and gave a wet sniff.

Akechi could barely see Akira's grey eyes turn toward him behind the light reflecting on his glasses, hand at the back of his neck, as Akechi held him in checkmate. Terrified, caught and with nowhere to run. The thrill of the upper hand thrummed through Akechi's spine, even if he wasn't sure why it belonged to him. "Uh... well... yeah. You're cute is all."

Akechi stared back, unsatisfied with the explanation. Certainly that much had been established already. In fact, Kurusu had told him explicitly that he was cute months ago when he fluffed his hair in public and forced him to wear those stupid fake glasses and plenty of times since. He moved the hand from Akira to his chin in contemplation. This sheepishness was new and the reason for it remained a mystery.

Sensing his confusion, Akira explained further. "It's just... um... seeing you lose control. There's something really... nice about it."

The pieces started to fit into place. Akechi's expression clicked a few degrees toward mischief as he twirled a lock of hair around his index finger. "Pardon if I'm off base, but it seems you're the one who's lost control. Humor me in elaborating exactly what it is you enjoy?" he requested sweetly. Akira was practically malfunctioning at the request, and Akechi was practically giddy with how handily he was winning the exchange, still he wanted to make Kurusu say it out loud. He watched as the other boy located his resolve and pulled the shattered pieces of his composure together in an instant, effectively turning the tables with a hint of Joker's smirk. He removed his glasses and set them gently on the ledge behind him without breaking eye contact.

"I like watching you sneeze."

Akechi's eyes widened slightly as he processed the confession. The confidence was a stark shift from the sputtering from moments earlier, but not entirely unexpected. Now, though, Akechi needed to do something bold to stay ahead. He looked at the boy next to him and set his mind on his next move. "Hmm. A bit strange, but I can work with it."

In a swift motion, he leaned forward and pressed his lips firmly against Akira's, one hand to Akira's shoulder and the other reaching around the back of his neck, pulling him close. Akira took to the kiss like a duck to water, wrapping his arms around Akechi and threading his hands through the detective's soft tangle of hair, grabbing Akechi's lower lip with his teeth and then releasing it to slide their tongues together. Several soft moans escaped both of their lips, lost in the heat of one another as electricity surged between them.

Akechi felt an itch begin to blossom, tensed and barely broke the kiss in time with a mumbled "sorry" before quickly lifting his arm and muffling a pair of sneezes to the side.

"Mmm, don't apologize." Akira growled low, hunger in his eyes as they met Akechi's. "And don't break away next time."

Next time was nearly immediate, and Akechi heeded the command and only barely turned, this time directing his fit into the dip above Akira's collarbone. Akira ran his hands up and down Akechi's back, feeling his muscles tense with every release as he shuddered against him. As soon as Akechi had a moment to catch his breath, Akira lifted his face toward him and, despite the fact that he was now congested and sniffly, kissed him deeply and desperately, and then peppered the corners of his mouth and his cheeks and his nose with little nibbles.

He leaned backward, one arm still firmly holding Akechi, to snag a few tissues. "Bless you, honey." His voice was too full of affection. It sent a shock of panic through Akechi's core and his mind flashed to the job he'd have to complete in a few short weeks.

A blood-curdling scream erupted in the room and both boys jumped. The latest chainsaw massacre victim collapsed in the screen behind them. A shared laugh, and then Akechi blew into the tissue. Akira leaned in and nuzzled his hair as he did.

Akechi didn't have time to analyze his concerns with this latest show of affection because an instant later they were on one another again. Akira shifted his weight and pushed Akechi's shoulders down, laying him flat on the dusty bed. Akechi slid his hands under Akira's tshirt and ran them along the smooth, taut muscle of his torso. Akira leaned down onto his forearms and worked both of his hands into Akechi's hair, dragging his nails along his scalp as their eyes locked.

The next sneeze snuck up on him and as he jerked forward, it tugged sharply at Akira's grip on his hair, forcing a sharp, keening noise from his throat. Kurusu looked shocked and apologetic for about half a second and made a move to extricate himself but a look at Akechi's face told him that the moan had been one of pleasure. A half smirk broke across his face and he silenced the sound from Akechi's lips with his own, lowered his body to press him hard into the mattress. Akira shifted his head and whispered mischief into Akechi's ear.

"Like that, huh? Maybe I can help."

His lips brushed feather light against the tip of Akechi's nose, then minty breath ghosted over his face, intensifying the tickle. Akira watched his nose as it scrunched and twitched, reacting to the attention, and once he was certain they were at the point of no return he turned his head to the side and kissed Akechi on the cheek as he bent forward, leashed by his hair. The release of the sneeze, the pin-prick on his scalp from the tug, his growing excitement rutting against Akira's hips. It was too much. Another. More pulling. More rutting. Akira's lips, warm and pressed to his own. Again and again.

Akira pulled his head back to look at him. "God, you're beautiful," he whispered and Akechi whined softly as he gazed into his rival's eyes, tears pricking the corners of his own, from the allergy or the pain or the affection - he wasn't sure.

Abruptly, Akira pulled away, carefully untangling his hands from Akechi's hair, and rolled himself into a seated position. He leaned for the tissues and handed one over. Akechi felt a surge of frustration from the whiplash.

"Sorry. I realized where this is going, and the shop is open and Sojiro's right downstairs and..."

"It's fine. You're right, we shouldn't, it would complicate too much."

"Haha, it's not too complicated already?"

"I suppose it is."

A thick silence hung in the air for a moment, both burning to continue, but sobering to the reality. Akechi blew his nose again and then reached for the shelf and took a languid sip of his coffee, which was fully cooled but still bursting with nuanced flavors, just like every cup he'd had at Leblanc. If only his life could be as simple as this - room-temperature coffee, secretly ignoring stupid movies in the bedroom of his rival. If only their relationship's hurdles were limited to societal expectations and monotony. If only they'd met a few years earlier, before Akechi was whisked into a dangerous world of shadows and committed to a job that stripped him of his humanity.

Warm fingers threaded through his own and squeezed, and he looked up to see Akira's face contorted into a somber expression of concern. "Maybe it doesn't have to be so complicated. You don't have to do everything alone, you know."

A surge of hatred for Kurusu burned behind his eyes. Naive, trusting, hero-of-the-masses Kurusu who thinks that the power of friendship will solve all of life's problems. Whose rolodex is filled to the brim with a gaggle of adoring followers who he truly considers friends. Whose affection would evaporate in an instant if he knew what kind of a monster Akechi really was. What can he do, but do his best to win? He can't prove that he's deserving so he has to prove that he's better. He didn't need Kurusu, he'd never needed anyone's help to scrounge his way up from the dregs and come out on top, sparkling and polished.

Gently but swiftly, he freed his fingers from Kurusu's hold and flashed a muted media smile. "Not to worry, Kurusu. As I told you before, we can't simply deviate from the paths we follow, but as long as we're working together you'll have my strength." He combed and smoothed his fingers through his hair, feeling it return to its typical relaxed state.

"Hmm." Akira turned away and nodded, expression suddenly blank. Akechi understood that the rejection must sting, but he felt another thrum of pleasure from having regained control of his emotions and the upper hand. The rest of his body seemed to follow suit as well - he sniffled a bit, but the itch had settled into a dull, pounding headache. Preferable, he thought, pain was easier to mask, after all.

They sat in silence for the remainder of the movie, close but not touching, not bothering to rewind through the parts they'd missed. By the time Akechi had finished the last of his coffee and the murderer was brutally disemboweled with his own chainsaw he found himself relieved that it was only Kurusu who had witnessed his lapse in judgement. He felt confident that given his embarrassment over his kink, he wouldn't go sharing the events of the afternoon with all of his friends. No, this secret would die with Kurusu within the month.

The credits rolled, and Akechi smoothed the evidence of their earlier activities from his shirt.

"Well. Many thanks for the invitation, Kurusu. I must be getting back to the station now, a detective's work never ends I'm afraid."

Kurusu's face remained infuriatingly passive, no doubt retreated behind his own mask of indifference. He turned to gather the empty coffee mugs.

"I'm certain you understand why we can't continue. We are on opposite sides of the law after all."

"Sure." Kurusu nodded reasonably.

"Although." Akechi tilted his head, searching Kurusu's still-bare face for the eagerness he'd seen earlier but came away empty. "It was rather enjoyable. One more for the road perhaps?" He leaned in and planted one last soft, chaste kiss on Kurusu's lips. The other boy kissed back, but made no other motion to pull Akechi in. Smart, he knows when to stop reaching.

"See you later, Akechi." Kurusu waved nonchalantly with the ghost of a smile and strolled back toward his workbench.

"Goodbye, Kurusu."

Akechi donned his jacket and as he descended the attic stairs, waving politely to Sakura before stepping back out into the November chill, he contemplated how utterly baffling Kurusu continued to be. The two of them had fallen into a pattern - revealing intimate pieces of themselves and disappearing into smoke and mirrors in turn.

No matter, no use in spending too much time and energy there. Perhaps Kurusu would be good for a few more battles, but Akechi had already won the war. His head still throbbed and he could still taste Kurusu on his lips, but he smirked to himself as he walked toward the station.

#persona 5 #snz #sneeze #sneezefic #allergies #goro akechi #persona 5 protagonist #akeshu #shuake #sneeze kink #angst #the angst is inevitable with these two #there was a lack of akeshu snz content #so i decided to make some #for other snzfucker akeshu fans #there are dozens of us

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hajimes-erect-ahoge · 3 years

Text

Postmortem- Chapter 17

PING PONG TIME ao3 Approximately two weeks had passed since Ouma had sustained his concussion, giving him ample time to recover. During these two weeks he mostly rested and stayed in the apartment, albeit hesitantly. Ouma was impatient; He wanted to be out and about as if he had never been injured in the first place, but Saihara and Momota had other plans for him. It was incredibly boring to him, but Ouma reluctantly saw the point in their strictness as he soon felt better.

Now, however, he was itching for a chance to leave the apartment. Even if it was something as mundane as joining Saihara and Momota for their nightly training once more, Ouma craved an excuse to get out of the apartment and do something. What he would do, however, remained a mystery.

That was, until he overheard a rather interesting conversation between Saihara and Momota.

~~~~~~~~~~

”Hey, sidekick!” Momota’s voice greeted enthusiastically, “Got any plans this weekend?”

Saihara peered over his mug of coffee, carefully recalling if he had any plans coming up. “Not that I know of.” He observed Momota’s cheerful demeanor, expecting an invitation of some sort.

“Great!” Momota slammed his fists together in excitement, grinning at his sidekick. “Then you and I are going to check out the game room on Saturday!”

“The game room…?” Saihara repeated Momota’s words back to him, faintly recalling that the apartment complex had a game room reserved for leisurely activities. “That’s right! I remember the paperwork we had to fill out mentioning a recreation room of some sort…”

“Yep! What do you say?” Momota beamed, radiating liveliness.

Saihara gave a soft smile, “Sure, sounds fun.”

“Great! It’ll be just the two of us then so don’t forget!” Momota told Saihara, who nodded in agreement.

Meanwhile, Ouma stood right before the threshold of the living room, fingertips lingering on the door to the bedroom. He smirked to himself, a plan manifesting itself in his mind. At least he wouldn’t be bored this Saturday, he thought.

~~~~~~~~~~

The awaited day came quicker than expected, Ouma’s mind buzzing with excitement. He glanced at the clock before practically leaping out of bed, making sure everything was going according to plan.

Saihara-chan and Momota-chan should be in the game room right now… Time to get to work!

The layout of the apartment complex only facilitated Ouma’s plans, the game room being located in the basement while the apartments and common room were ground level. He quickly set his plan in motion, knocking on Amami’s door.

After a few short knocks the door opened, revealing a nonchalant Amami.

“Hey, Ouma-kun. What’s up?” He leaned casually against the door, awaiting Ouma’s response.

“Amami-chan, I need your help!” Ouma balled his hands into fists, looking up at Amami with pleading eyes. “It’s an emergency!”

“Oh? And what could that be?” Amami chuckled to himself, unfazed by Ouma’s antics.

“Saihara-chan and Momota-chan are hanging out in the game room without us!” Ouma frowned.

“And this is an emergency because…?” Amami asked, not following Ouma’s logic.

“Because...” Ouma smirked, “We can’t let them have fun without us, riiiight?”

“Okay…” Amami replied, starting to put the pieces together. “So you’re suggesting we show up and crash their hangout?”

“Not just us!” Ouma grinned, beaming up at him. “Help me gather the rest of the guys! Pwetty pwease?”

Amami snorted, now fully understanding Ouma’s plan. While he could chalk it up to his typical mischievousness all he wanted to, it was clear that he missed spending time with everyone despite their grudges. He nodded, agreeing to Ouma’s plan.

“Yay! Amami-chan is the best accomplice ever!” Ouma cheered.

Amami cocked an eyebrow, “Accomplice?”

“Yep! Now come on, we’ve got a party to crash!” Ouma grinned, having successfully gained Amami’s cooperation.

The two of them thus set out to gather the remaining boys and bring them to the game room, Saihara and Momota blissfully unaware of what was going on.

~~~~~~~~~~

The game room was full of various means of entertainment, such as a ping pong table, a foosball table, a pool table, and an overabundance of couches and other forms of seating. Saihara and Momota stood at each end of the ping pong table, paddles in hand.

“I win… Again.” Saihara gave a sly smirk, picking up the ping pong ball.

“T-That’s because I was going easy on ya!” Momota declared, aiming to save his dignity. “One more round!”

Saihara chuckled, choosing not to point out the fact that Momota said the same exact thing after the last round. “Sure.”

Raising his paddle in the air with one hand and holding the ping pong ball in another, Saihara prepared to serve and start the next match. But just as he was about to strike the ball after tossing it in the air, the doors to the game room swung open. Saihara fumbled with the ball as it fell to the ground, instead turning his attention to the now open doors.

“Guess whooooo!” Ouma sang as he stood proudly in front of the open doors, the rest of the boys standing behind him.

“Ouma?! What do you think you’re-” Momota began, only to be cut off by an impatient Ouma.

“Hush, Momota-chan! I’m still mad at you for making plans to go to the game room without me- I mean, us!” Ouma pouted, haughtily stalking over to the ping pong table.

The other boys filed into the room, following Ouma. Shinguji and Hoshi seated themselves on the couch, having come here against their will more than anything. Meanwhile, Gokuhara explored the many different games set up in the room with Kiibo following him, offering him an explanation and answering any questions he had, having studied thoroughly about human forms of entertainment.

“Sorry about that.” Amami chuckled.

“Wha-?! Amami, you helped him?!” Momota was more dumbfounded than anything, surprised that Ouma managed to pull this off.

“Yeah, he seemed pretty determined about crashing your private little hangout session.” He approached the ping pong table, picking up a spare paddle. “Since we’re all here, how about a game of ping pong?”

“Ooh, ooh, I wanna play!” Ouma excitedly searched for another paddle, holding it up proudly once he found it.

Momota grinned, “You guys are on! Shuichi, come on my side! We can take ‘em!”

“We’ll see about that.” Amami retorted, getting into position along the other side of the table with Ouma.

Saihara held up the ping pong ball, preparing to serve it. “Ready?”

The members of the other team nodded, Saihara promptly serving the ball. A rally quickly formed, mostly between Saihara and Amami. Ouma would jump in and hit the ball whenever it was on his side, both him and Amami staying on their designated sides. Noticing that Momota was sitting back and letting his sidekick do all the work, Ouma hit the ball straight towards him. Momota fumbled for a moment before haphazardly striking the ball, sending it flying over Ouma and Amami’s heads.

“Hey, that wasn’t fair!” Momota protested.

Ouma snorted, “Last time I checked there are two members on a team, Momota-chan! Stop making Saihara-chan pick up your slack just because you suck!”

“I don’t suck! It’s just our strategy!” Momota argued vaguely, “You’ll see!”

Amami had retrieved the ball from the other side of the room, holding it in his hand. Once Ouma and Momota had stopped bickering he served it, starting another round. Momota received the ball, striking it with a particularly fired up exclamation. Ouma rolled his eyes, hitting the ball back with ease. Another rally started, only to end when Amami sent the ball right in between Saihara and Momota, causing both of them to hesitate in receiving it.

Ouma gave an impressed whistle, “Looks like I chose the right teammate! No one beats Amami-chan!”

Watching Ouma and Amami share an excited high five, Saihara couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy.

Were him and Amami always this close? It was just a game of ping pong anyway, it’s not like it was a big deal…

Saihara was brought out of his thoughts upon hearing none other than Amami’s voice.

“You’re pretty good at this, Saihara-kun.” he complimented.

“Thanks…” Saihara awkwardly replied, still staring at the ground in thought.

“Both of you seem to have a knack for this, if my opinion means anything.” Hoshi’s deep voice spoke, eyeing Saihara and Amami as he stood up from his seat and walked over to them. “I may not truly be the Ultimate Tennis Pro anymore, but I’ve still got some skill when it comes to these types of games. I know talent when I see it.”

“W-What about me?” Momota asked, seeking validation of his own skills.

Hoshi shrugged, “Not everyone is meant for this, kid. No sweat.”

While Momota stood there in shock, Ouma proposed an idea. “Hey, Hoshi-chan! Why dontcha go up against Amami-chan and Saihara-chan?”

Hoshi thought for a moment before responding, “I’m a bit rusty, but… if that’s what you want to see then I don’t see why not.” He gave a small smile, his ever-present love for tennis, even if in ping pong form, still palpable.

Saihara and Amami also agreed, lining themselves up to play against the former Ultimate Tennis Pro. Ouma stood with the still sulking Momota alongside the other edge of the table, eager to watch the game.

Hoshi promptly served the ball, striking it with enough force and speed that neither Saihara nor Amami could react in time. It was silent for a moment, with even Shinguji, Gokuhara and Kiibo looking on in awe.

“Woah..! How cool!” Ouma cheered. “Do it again!”

“Heh, sorry about that…” Hoshi apologized, “Guess my instincts took over for a second there.”

Saihara and Amami shared a nervous look, simultaneously realizing what they had gotten themselves into. Nonetheless, they continued the game, Hoshi promising to take it down a notch. The rest of the boys watched on, fascinated at how Hoshi’s tennis skills translated into also being great at ping pong.

Many rounds later, Hoshi decided to end his brutal winning streak and call it a day. Saihara and Amami thankfully agreed, both of them exhausted.

The rest of the boys were ready to head back as well, everyone saying their goodbyes before heading out. Gokuhara even bowed and thanked the others for inviting him, stating that he had such a great time despite not actually participating in their games.

Saihara looked towards Ouma, seeking an opportunity to speak to him in private. The boy in question was currently gushing over Hoshi, praising him for his superb ping pong skills. After Hoshi said his goodbyes to Ouma, Saihara swooped in.

“Ah, Ouma-kun…? Can I talk to you for a minute?” Saihara asked him.

“Sure!” Ouma chirped, “Anything for my beloved Saihara-chan!”

There it was again, those honey-laced words that made Saihara’s heart swirl with affection. For a moment he caught himself wishing those words would only be spoken to him, however he quickly chastised himself for having such selfish thoughts.

Once the room was empty asides from the two of them, Saihara tried to speak but struggled to find his words. He had so many things to say, leaving him unsure of where to begin. Forcing himself to speak, he said exactly what he was thinking.

“I… have a lot to say, but I’m not exactly sure where to begin…” Saihara admitted, feeling the power of the moment slip through his fingers.

Ouma tensed, his anxiety about the lack of control over the situation beginning to get to him. He wasn’t exactly sure where Saihara was going with this, and that scared him.

Amidst Ouma’s silence, Saihara spoke once more. “I’m really happy that you’re feeling better. I… After what happened to you the other day, I was just so worried, and…” Saihara instinctively clenched his fists as he spoke, being overcome with emotion. He didn’t want to overwhelm Ouma or, even worse, bore him with his outburst of emotion, so he kept it simple. “I’m just so happy to have you here with me, Ouma-kun.” He smiled, attempting to put the blank-faced Ouma at ease.

It was quiet for a moment, neither of them speaking. Ouma repeated Saihara’s words over and over again in his mind, panicking at the fact that he had yet to respond. He didn’t want to seem uninterested, yet he didn’t want to pour his heart out either. Deciding that he had been quiet long enough, he told Saihara what he had been hinting at since the very beginning in a feeble attempt to gain control of the situation.

“I like you.”

Saihara paused for a moment, then chuckled. “I like you too, Ouma-kun. Like I said, I care about you a lot, and-”

“No, I mean I like you, Saihara-chan!” Ouma repeated, more emphatically this time.

Saihara froze, processing Ouma’s words. There’s no way he could be serious, right…?

“But that’s a lie, isn’t it?” Saihara gave a sad smile, wishing that Ouma’s words were indeed true. Someone like Ouma would never have feelings for him, he was way too shy and awkward for something like that to ever happen to him…

“Aw man, you caught me!” Ouma admitted cheerfully, ignoring the uncomfortable surge of negative emotions running through him. “I can’t get anything past Saihara-chan, now can I?” Before Saihara could respond, Ouma took off running towards the stairs, giving one last shout. “Welllll, I better get going now! See ya!” And with that, he ran up the stairs as quickly as he could, not wanting Saihara to see him cry.

God, I’m such a baby… What happened to the me during the killing game that could hide his emotions like a pro?

Meanwhile, Saihara stood dumbfounded in the game room all by himself.

Why did he just run off so suddenly? There’s no way he…

Saihara froze, not even letting himself finish that thought.

He felt himself start to panic as he acknowledged the fact that Ouma may have truly meant what he said a few moments ago, and it was his fault for screwing it up and accusing him of lying.

I have to find Ouma-kun, fast!

Saihara called his name and ran up the stairs, attempting to chase after him. There’s no way he could just let Ouma go like that, not when they were so close to revealing their true feelings about each other. With a newfound determination and a pinch of anxiety, Saihara set out to find Ouma and make things right between them.

#postmortem #my writing #danganronpa #danganronpa v3 #shuichi saihara #kaito momota #kokichi ouma #kokichi oma #korekiyo shinguji #kiibo #keebo #ryoma hoshi #gonta gokuhara #rantaro amami #oumasai #saiouma #ousai #saiou

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sweetteaanddragons · 4 years

Text

Day Fifty-One (And Counting)

With Feanorian Week finished, I managed to complete something for the Tolkien Decameron Project! For those that prefer not to read on AO3, I decided to also post it here.

. . .

Nolofinwe wakes up to find Feanaro about an inch from his face.

He thinks he can be forgiven for a quietly strangled scream. Usually when he wakes up with a face that close to his, it’s his wife, or possibly, when they were younger, one of his children.

Not Feanaro peering down at him like Nolofinwe has just become his latest experiment.

“Good, you’re awake,” Feanaro says with apparent satisfaction. Thankfully, he pulls his face away some, although since he’s still sitting on the edge of the bed, this is still rather awkward.

Nolofinwe looks to the other side rather helplessly in the hopes that Anaire will still be there and will have some kind of idea what’s going on. Unfortunately, she appears to have risen for the day already.

“She’s in your dining room,” Feanaro informs him. “She’s just about to discover there’s a spider on her cup.”

Downstairs, there’s a shriek and the sound of something breaking.

“You put a spider on my wife’s cup?” he says rather blankly. Feanaro is not above pettiness, but he is usually above childish pranks.

“No,” Feanaro says dismissively, and then he moves on, pulling out a sheet of paper that must have been laying beside him. “Number one - “

“How did you even get in here?” Nolofinwe demands, taking advantage of his regained personal space to sit up. “Why are you here?” They are both scheduled to appear before their father in his court today; surely whatever it is could have waited until then.

“I climbed in the window,” Feanaro tells him rather impatiently, and he assumes for a happy moment that his half-brother is joking.

Then he notices the grappling hook hanging over the window ledge and the rope that is trailing behind it. There is also, he realizes with a jolt of dread, a chair tucked under the doorknob as a rudimentary barricade against entrance.

Tensions between he and his half-brother have become high. He had not previously realized that they had become so high that Feanaro would conclude the best method of speaking to him was breaking and entering.

He wonders if it is too late to bury his head under his pillow and pretend this isn’t happening.

Feanaro anticipates this, apparently, because he snatches the pillow away and tucks it under his paper. “Number one,” he says firmly. “You are my brother.”

“Regrettably,” he mutters when Feanaro looks up expectantly.

Feanaro scowls at him. “You are my brother,” he repeats, “and I . . . love . . . you.” He looks like he’s bitten into something sour, but he steamrolls through the sentence regardless.

Nolofinwe gapes at him.

It occurs to him, suddenly, that Feanaro does have a tendency towards experiments and working with dangerous equipment. “Have you hit your head recently?” It’s almost a hopeful question. It would be an explanation, at least. A sensible, rational explanation.

Feanaro ignores this. “Number four,” he announces. “I do not want you dead.”

“I’m . . . glad?”

“Number five. Despite the fact that I hate every single factor that led to your existence, I do not regret your existence itself.”

Nolofinwe wonders if he is supposed to be reciprocating these statements. Feanaro is very clearly waiting for something, and maybe this will all go away if he gets whatever it is. “I’m . . . glad . . . you’re here too, Feanaro.” Well, not here in this room, in this moment, but as a general statement of truth -

Frankly, as a general statement of truth, his life would be a lot easier if Feanaro didn’t exist, but he can’t actually imagine what that would look like, so, yes, he’s glad Feanaro’s here in a general, existential sense.

Feanaro is apparently not interested in this declaration of brotherly sentiment and in fact seems rather annoyed by the interruption. “Number seven."

Nolofinwe wonders what happened to number six, but he quickly decides he does not want to prolong this experience by bringing it up. This seems all the more wise when what Feanaro says is -

"I am sorry for drawing a sword on you.”

“Beg pardon?” Nolofinwe looks around a little frantically, wondering if this happened while he was asleep. There is no sword in evidence, however, and he is growing increasingly concerned that his ‘Feanaro got knocked on the head’ theory is correct.

“Number eight. I am sorry for accidentally killing you.”

“I’m not dead. I have never been dead.”

For a single moment, it occurs to him that maybe he’s wrong, that maybe this is the Halls of Mando,s and the afterlife is far more bizarre than the Valar have led them to believe.

“Not today, I haven’t,” Feanaro says, rolling his eyes, and, alright, Nolofinwe is definitely going for a healer as soon as he thinks he can get past Feanaro to the door. “Number nine. I am sorry for failing to save you on the forty-nine days that followed that accident.”

“Save me from what?” he asks in his best placating voice. Maybe if he edges over to Anaire’s side of the bed . . .

“Dying,” Feanaro says shortly. “I’m not reading you that list, you never react well to it. Number ten - “ His hand shoots and grabs Nolofinwe’s wrist the second he tries to scoot away. “You’re not going anywhere until I’ve tried everything on this list,” he says grimly.

There are many contests Nolofinwe can win against his brother. Contests of tact, for instance. Contests of sanity, apparently.

Contests of strength are definitely not among that number, not after Feanaro’s long years at the forge, so Nolofinwe doesn’t even try to tug against his grip. He tries to play along instead. “What exactly are you trying to accomplish?”

“I’m saying everything they want to hear,” Feanaro says. “Starting with statements about you, since you seem to be the center of all this.”

Nolofinwe works very hard to keep his voice steady. “This?”

“For the past fifty days, you have died every day,” Feanaro says, and there is a terrifying bleakness in his eyes that Nolofinwe has never seen before. “And then I wake up, and Makalaure is singing somewhere downstairs, and you’re alive again, and no one remembers anything. Except me.”

“So you . . . “

“Have been trying to stop it,” Feanaro says impatiently, but there is still that terrible bleakness in his eyes, and it hits Nolofinwe, suddenly, that for all the irritableness Feanaro has displayed today, the terrible rage that has been building between them for years is entirely gone.

Thinking he has seen Nolofinwe die fifty times is apparently enough to do that to him.

He realizes then, that whether or not he believes Feanaro, he at least believes Feanaro believes this, and that’s concerning enough in itself.

“You said they,” he remembers. “Who’s they?”

“The Valar, of course,” Feanaro says, still impatient. “Who else would have the power?”

That’s . . . valid. If this were to happen, the Valar would be the ones to do it, but why?

“I’ve tried saving you, and that never works,” Fenaaro says. “You just die a different way, so that can’t be what they want. I spent all of yesterday compiling a mental list, and I wrote it down as soon as I woke up this morning. Something on here as to be what they want to hear.”

There is a terrible, desperate, light in his eyes, and Nolofinwe decides that no bump on the head is enough to explain this. Either Feanaro is telling the truth, or he has gone utterly, irretrievably mad.

He hears steps creaking on the stairs, and Feanaro says, tiredly, “It’s Anaire. She’s going to knock three times and ask if you’re coming down to breakfast.” His nose wrinkles. “She’s also going to call you ‘sweetheart.’”

There are three raps on the door. “Sweetheart?” his wife calls. “Are you coming down to breakfast?”

Nolofinwe’s mouth has gone very dry. “No,” he manages to croak out. “No, I need to . . . think.”

Feanaro has mouthed along to every word.

“Alright,” his wife says with a sigh, and then she retreats back down the stairs.

“You could have guessed that,” he says, as soon as she’s gone.

“Or I could have come to your house on and off for the last fifty days as I try to figure out a way to fix this.”

It’s insane. It’s impossible.

He thinks he might almost believe it.

Feanaro either sees this or gives up on convincing him, because he pushes onward. “Number ten. I am sorry for the following insults I have rendered you over the years - “

Nolofinwe can see enough of the paper to realize he has an itemized list of these. He does not particularly want to hear it read. “Maybe you have to actually mean it,” he interrupts.

“I do mean it,” Feanaro snaps, and it is with such blazing sincerity that Nolofinwe cannot, for a moment, speak.

Oh.

You are my brother. I love you.

He - had not expected to hear that.

Feanaro glares down at the paper, possibly as an excuse to not have to look at Nolofinwe. “Except maybe for this one,” he admits.

“That’s fair,” Nolofinwe says faintly. “I don’t regret most of the things I’ve called you for the past few decades either.”

There is an ominous creaking sound from above them. Nolofinwe looks up.

There’s a crack in the ceiling. There has been for months now; he keeps meaning to have it fixed, but there never seems to be time.

It’s getting wider now.

And it’s right over Feanaro’s head.

Feanaro doesn’t seem to notice. He’s still looking at the paper, gearing up for number eleven.

The creaking sound grows louder. Stone dust crumbles from the ceiling and starts to fall.

Feanaro looks up, his eyes going dark in absolute horror.

Nolofinwe shoves himself off the bed, and collides into Feanaro, desperately trying to push him out of the way. There’s a sharp burning pain in his back -

. . .

Nolofinwe wakes up to the sound of hammering.

There is a large barricade in front of his bedroom door. Someone is pounding on it.

Feanaro meanwhile, is pounding on the nails he is using to drive a support beam into Nolofinwe’s bedroom ceiling, right over the crack he’s been meaning to have fixed.

For a moment, he is sure he is dreaming.

“What are you doing?” he finally demands.

Feanaro doesn’t even glance down. “Good, you’re awake. Number eleven.”

“Eleven of what?” he demands.

Feanaro steamrolls on without bothering to answer.

It is, Nolofinwe suspects, going to be a very long day.

. . .

(Note: I have many complicated feelings about the tv show Supernatural, not all of them positive. However, I DO uncomplicatedly love the premise of the episode "Mystery Spot," and I got curious about how it might play out with two brothers who aren't . . . quite so willing to admit that they care about the other. This was the result.)

#feanor #fingolfin #groundhog day #fic #silmarillion #years of the trees #time travel

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sablelab · 4 years

Text

Covert Operations - Chapter 144

SYNOPSIS: Madeline returns to Section One and gives Fergus some tasks to do to set things in motion before she meets to debrief with Operations about her meeting with Mr. Lambert. Murtagh helps out his friend and Fergus finds out new intel about the Rising Dragons from his informant.

Chapter 143 and all other chapters can be found at … https://sablelab.tumblr.com/covertoperations

THANK YOU all so much for following this story week in and week out. You are all the BEST!

CHAPTER 144

Madeline returned to Section One after her enlightening talk with Mr. Lambert with her agenda achieved and with a better picture in her mind as to the treachery that Colum had instigated in regards to the Rising Dragons' mission. Feeling a wry smile bow her mouth, she entered the underground parking lot after parking her BMW, and headed towards the elevator that would descend into the hub of Section One. She stopped when she reached the doors and activated the secret code. The doors soon opened and she entered with resolve and a self-satisfied look on her face. This had definitely been a win-win for her, Operations and especially Section One. She knew that Dougal would be pleased with the outcome and hence they may not see as much of Colum as they had in the past. His impromptu visits may have just been curtailed for a while by the powers that be.

After her discussions with Mr. Lambert it was much clearer now that Oversight’s leader indeed had a file on Sun Yee Lok as well as Jamie and Claire. Although Mr Lambert’s explanation was valid, she was still a little perplexed as to why Colum would want one on their two best operatives. That was a conundrum to think about. His informant, Jurgen, had passed on Intel concerning the triad, some which they knew of and some they did not. It was now up to them at Section to beat him at his own game and keep him out of their affairs. Making Mr. Lambert aware surreptitiously that Colum may have had ulterior motives in regards to the Rising Dragons' mission had indeed been cathartic. Madeline was sure that their superior would rein Oversight’s leader in and they would not have any more interference from him. In so doing, he would be on notice that Mr. Lambert was aware of his meddling when there was no reason for it about the mission. Colum would no longer be able to give him false Intel again about the state of play to where Section was at in regards to capturing the Dragon Head of the triad. The other great news was that Frank Wolverton-Randall would be returned to Section One where they could keep a close eye on him and any transfer of data secretly back to Colum.

Madeline's Mona Lisa smile increased at the thought of these outcomes.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The metal doors closed behind her and the elevator whooshed quietly into the depths of the earth. In no time it came to a swift stop, the doors opened and Madeline exited through them to her familiar surroundings of Section One and made her way through Van Access. With every step she took, her resolute footfalls echoed on the floor of the stark corridor as she headed further into Section One. Anyone observing Section's Head Strategist pass by, would have seen her determined gait indicating that she was a woman on a mission. When Madeline was in this frame of mind operatives knew to stay clear.

She walked along the corridors towards the Common Area on her way to the perch to see Operations. Meanwhile several operatives were nervously talking to each other behind her back as she passed by their stations, but that was a common reaction whenever she was out of her office. She intimidated people and operatives were scared of her … but as far as Madeline was concerned that was a good thing, as you could not be too familiar with your workforce. She and Dougal ran a tight ship and their operatives knew exactly where they stood. Insubordination was not tolerated and failure to perform resulted in cancellation. Although operatives were busily engaged in their duties, Madeline felt the air of trepidation that surrounded them. The atmosphere was so thick you could cut it with a knife while eyes seemed to follow her every step but then quickly glance away to carry on with whatever they were supposed to be doing.

Section’s doyen knew people were anxious by her presence but she liked it that way as it kept the operatives on their toes. Too much familiarity was frowned upon thus they were wary around her. Nonetheless she liked that situation and it had always worked well for her in the end. The only thing she was ever concerned about was Section and that their operatives did their jobs thoroughly to the highest standard.

As she made her way to the Perch to debrief with Operations, her thoughts turned to the conversation with Mr. Lambert.

It had been very enlightening and she knew exactly what needed to be done to rectify Colum's meddling in their affairs. She realized that Centre's leader had provided her with valuable Intel that had to be confirmed as soon as possible. Fergus was the go-to man for this assignment. She needed to address him to give him the heads up on what Mr. Lambert had told her and her instructions to deal with it. The Macau information was a valuable piece of news to her, so Section needed to act expediently before Colum set anything tangible in motion. Time was of the essence. Fergus needed to move swiftly to neutralize any Intel that their nemesis may already have on the Rising Dragons and plant a red herring that would send him off on a wild goose chase. It was also imperative to act and act quickly before Colum Mackenzie got wind of her discussion with Mr. Lambert but she wouldn't be at all surprised if Centre’s leader hadn’t already contacted him and hauled him over the coals.

This brought another smile to her face. Her mission had been accomplished. Dougal would be pleased.

Fergus has a visit from Section’s Head Strategist ...

Before she spoke with Operations, Madeline needed to speak with Section’s communications expert first and made a beeline to Fergus Claudel with instructions for him to carry out. When she approached his station, he looked up a little surprised to see her standing at his desk, however, judging by the look she gave him, he knew that Section's second-in-command had something important to reveal.

True to form, Madeline didn't mince her words. "Have you found any new Intel about the Rising Dragons or Sun Yee Lok?"

"I've put out feelers but nothing yet." "What about John Grey our informant in Hong Kong? Has he been in touch?"

"I'm still trying to locate him to see if he has any fresh Intel on the triad."

"What's the problem?"

"He's not responding to communiqués."

John Grey was rather partial to the high life and from time to time communicating with him was difficult. This was a cause for frustration and it echoed in her voice as she spoke to the techie. "Work on it. This is top priority. You'll need to move faster. Find out if he knows anything about the Rising Dragons planning a move into the casino business in Macau."

"I'll get on it right away," Fergus reassured her emphatically.

His superior gave him a piercing look. "You need to pull out all stops on this one Fergus."

It was evident that Madeline was quite adamant in her orders and would bode no hesitation in them being carried out. "I understand."

"And find out any an Intel you can on Colum's informant Phil Jurgen. Find out where he is located and how close he is getting to the Rising Dragons."

"Understood Madeline. Anything else?"

However, her next order was a surprise. "I want you to contact Jamie and Claire and inform them that they are to return to Section One."

Fergus' mind went into a spiralling downfall at the thought of that being a possibility as previous times that he'd tried to reach them he'd come up blank. If Jamie and Claire didn't want to be contacted then it was nigh on impossible to do so unless they initiated the contact. Knowing the answer already, he still stated the obvious.

"But their trackers are down … they are not contactable."

Her concise answer was not unexpected. "I'm sure you'll find a way Mr. Claudel."

The computer expert knew this was a direct order and Madeline would not accept a negative response to her request. "I'll do my best."

"Your best isn't good enough. I expect more."

Section One was under the pump because of Colum's obvious interference about the Rising Dragons’ mission and Frank Wolverton-Randall's involvement with passing on information, however, of what and how much was still to be known. He quite understood why Madeline was so adamant that things happen quickly. Excuses would not be tolerated. "Okay."

"Oh, and there is one other thing that you need to be aware of."

"Yes?"

"Frank will be returning to Section where we can keep a closer eye on him."

"I see." Fergus was not a happy camper at hearing this news despite the need to keep tabs on him. "Why? Can't we do that given what we already know about him and Colum?"

"You need to keep your enemies close Mr. Claudel. If he is here, we have more control over what we allow him to do and see."

"How will this come about?"

"Mr Lambert will request that Frank be transferred back to One to help you with collating Intel on the Rising Dragons."

"I see."

"Thus, we'll need you to plant some bogus Intel about the triad that Colum will think is legitimate to keep him off our tails and that Frank will need to follow up that will send him off on a wild goose chase. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes Madeline."

"Good. Do it."

All Fergus needed to do now was to follow up her orders and verify the Intel about Macau so that a new profile could be put in place. All the pieces of the puzzle were finally coming together while the last piece she needed was for Jamie and Claire to return to Section. But how in heavens name was he to do that was the conundrum he faced, knowing that if he could not contact them his head would be on the chopping block. There was only one person he could think of that could help ... his buddy Murtagh.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Walking away from Fergus' station, Madeline was extremely happy with the plans she had put in place to curtail Colum's efforts to undermine Section One. Hostilities had existed between Section and Oversight for some time, but with Colum's interference in this mission, this had only escalated their contempt for him. She couldn't wait to debrief with Operations but once he heard what Colum had been reporting to Mr. Lambert there was no telling what he may be inclined to want to do. He'd already suggested assassination as his favoured modus operandi but she'd diffused that situation for the time being, but it was highly probable that this would be back on the table once she reported their situation.

They had all tolerated each other over the years, but the suspicions between her and Dougal on one hand and Colum on the other had caused a large chasm that widened with each impromptu visit from him. This hostility had only been exacerbated during this mission to where his interference was intolerable given his subterfuge. There was certainly no love lost between the brothers whatsoever and now, if anything it had intensified. This time Colum had gone too far. Most times any encounter between the leaders resulted in a stalemate, but this time it seemed that Section One may just be able to checkmate Colum at his own game. Given the fact that Mr. Lambert was now aware of his agenda, Madeline was sure that he would not try and interfere anytime soon, but nonetheless if Colum acted on their bogus Intel, it would indeed prove that he had gone behind their backs and in contravention of direct orders from Mr. Lambert. Failure to obey his supreme leader may just be the answer to their problems. If Colum was stupid enough to go behind Mr. Lambert's back then he deserved whatever punishment their leader would dish out. It could possibly be a win-win for Section One without any involvement from them whatsoever. This thought would please Operations no end.

Armed with new Intel about the Rising Dragons … compliments of Mr. Lambert … they could now get back to what was important and at the same time make Colum look like a fool. Her mind had been focused on nothing else since her meeting and she couldn't wait to set things into motion back at Section. She had given Fergus his orders and was confident that he would be able to expand this new Intel and put Section One back behind the eight ball. The Rising Dragons' short reprieve, like Jamie and Claire's, was over. It was time that Section brought the Rising Dragons’ mission to a closure before Colum could usurp their authority and undermine them even more.

Suddenly another thought popped into Madeline's mind that gave her cause to smile enigmatically … If ever Operations wanted to take over Oversight, this might just be his opportunity to show his true mettle. Colum would be under suspicion from Mr. Lambert and if anything jeopardized the mission because of Oversight's intervention… then Operations would come up smelling roses. That thought was indeed worth thinking about.

With her inscrutable Mona Lisa smile on her face, Madeline continued on towards the perch where she knew Operations would be eagerly awaiting her return from Centre. She was most satisfied that she had set things in motion to expedite the Rising Dragons’ mission and get Section back on the right foot. All they needed was the Intel to pursue the triad and the operatives to carry out the mission. They already had one … all they needed was a window of opportunity to make a strike on the Rising Dragons and its members. She was counting on Fergus to come through with information that would facilitate a new profile as quickly as possible if they were to usurp Colum and his delusions of grandeur.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The added spring in Madeline's step was clearly noticeable as she continued on to the perch.

Fergus watched Section's Head Strategist leave his station after giving him his explicit orders. His eyes followed her progression away from his computer terminal, noting Madeline's determined gait and unwavering mindset … just like her words had been to him … succinct, resolute and needing answers as soon as possible. He had his instructions and all the things she'd asked him to do were all major concerns. There was no time to prioritize any of the commands for he'd been well and truly put on notice; furthermore, she wanted him to start straight away. However, Fergus decided that he would try and contact John Grey again as his first strategy followed by the request to release false information for Frank Wolverton-Randall to chase. Then he would try to find a way to contact Jamie and Claire.

He knew he would have some difficulty in contacting them and that he may need Murtagh's help for that. Given the mood that Madeline was in it was obvious that she wanted everything done yesterday. Her words had an urgency to them that gave Fergus little doubt that she and Operations had pressing plans in mind for Jamie and Claire. That would explain why the two recovering operatives had to return to Section early even though they still had a few days remaining on their downtime. Madeline had been adamant in her orders, so obviously whatever had been discussed between her and Mr. Lambert had warranted this move. Her meeting must have been productive and had caused her to rethink their strategy on the Rising Dragons' mission. No doubt there would be a briefing to outline a profile for continuance and he guessed that when Jamie and Claire returned this would be put in place.

The fact that Madeline wanted him to plant some false information to head Colum off on a different tangent meant that he must be getting too close or could jeopardize the mission by his interference. Either way, things would be go, go, go as soon and Jamie and Claire returned. He only hoped that they were well enough to resume the mission.

Putting his head to the grindstone Fergus began the tasks at hand.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Climbing the stairs up to Operations' office, Madeline was extremely satisfied with what she had set in motion. Her return to Section One after her meeting with Mr. Lambert, had given her the momentum to dive into the Rising Dragons' mission armed with new Intel that could finally lead to Sun Yee Lok and other triad members capture. Not only had the meeting given her new data but it had also allowed her to checkmate Colum and stop him in his tracks. She had managed to kill two birds with one stone and the fact that Frank Wolverton-Randall would be under their watchful eye was an added bonus. They could keep a close watch on him and leak Intel that would backfire on Colum. Yes, revenge was best served cold … it was a very satisfying feeling.

Madeline couldn’t wait to debrief with Operations.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Fergus returned to his station with a heavy heart. His superior had given him a directive he may not be able to carry out and failure to do so could result in severe consequences. Being put into abeyance was not his idea of the best outcome for something he may be unable to control. His failure to contact John Grey was a frustration he didn’t need on top of all the other things he had to do. Fergus Claudel seemed as if his back was up against the wall. Not only that, but he had to come up with some plausible Intel on the Rising Dragons that would persuade Frank Wolverton-Randall to follow up with his usual thirst to be the first to one upmanship him in any way shape or form with the powers that be. Planting a lure could be tricky but not insurmountable. He had already thought of a few believable scenarios that Frank might take the bait for. Knowing the type of character that Wolverton-Randall was, he knew that his nemesis was always too cocky when it came to the way he did things, and if Frank could make him look incompetent in front of Mr. Lambert, Fergus also knew he would have no qualms about doing so. Frank’s lust for the ultimate accolade to everyone else’s, but especially his detriment, was typical of his need to fuel his narcissistic personality. Just the thought of Wolverton-Randall losing face and to come tumbling down a peg or two gave him immense pleasure.

A wry smile bowed his mouth, but soon disappeared when his thoughts turned to the problem of contacting Jamie and Claire to return to Section. Although they had not gone dark whilst on downtime, getting in touch with them was another huge setback. How was he ever going to contact them when they were off the radar? If Jamie didn’t want to be contacted then there was little chance of anyone doing so before their downtime was up. There was only one thing he could do and that was to turn to his friend Murtagh in an effort of finding a way of getting in touch with the two operatives.

It was in this sombre mood that Murtagh Fitzgibbons found him when he appeared in systems.

A visitor arrives at Fergus’ station ...

“Hey buddy why the long face?”

Fergus gave him the look indicating that what he was about to say was something that Murtagh knew would require some underhand manoeuvring by him to solve whatever was troubling his friend.

“I have a problem A huge, big problem. Madeline wants me to contact Jamie and Claire, among other orders, and as you know they are somewhere where they are not reachable. They could be anywhere.”

“Yes, I see what you mean. That could be quite difficult.”

“What are we going to do?”

“We?” Murtagh replied raising his eyebrow at his friend’s assumption that they, not he, had the problem.

Fergus ignored his buddy’s mocking reply and pleaded his case. “Things will be dire if I cannot get in contact with them. What am I going to do?” he implored knowing only too well that whenever he had a predicament his friend always came to his rescue. “The only thing I can think of is a broad view sector breakdown and then I’ll need to comb every inch of this planet to find them.”

“I really don’t think that will be necessary,” Murtagh added with mirth in his voice.

“Really?”

“Yes. Leave it with me. I have my ways and means of getting around this problem.”

“How?” Fergus looked at the wise operative and saw the slight glint in his eyes.

“Well, there are a few tricks I haven’t told you about. Now first, you …”

“No, no, that’s okay... I don’t want to know. I get the message.”

Murtagh Fitzgibbons gave him a slight smile and raised his eyebrow in a mischievous way that his buddy had come to understand.

“Thanks, Murtagh. Owe you one.”

“I’ll add it to my list,” he retorted with a look that Fergus knew so well as he left his friend to tackle the other orders Madeline had given him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Relieved that this major problem had been solved he tried once again to contact the elusive John Grey. Fergus tapped his fingers on his desk in quick succession in extreme frustration and annoyance that once again John was unavailable. Any Intel from the informant was getting critical to the mission status especially now that Madeline was on the war path. He needed something … anything … that may prove useful for Jamie and Claire’s return to Section. Time was of the essence and he knew that his head would be on the chopping block if John came up empty handed. Time seemed to stand still as Fergus waited for his connection, and the more he became worried, the more his fingers tapped on the desk. However, after a short time he finally heard the inimitable English accent of the elusive Mr Grey at last.

This time he’d been successful and not at a moment too soon.

Meanwhile Fergus makes contact with his informant ...

“John? Is that you?”

“Fergus my old pal … my old buddy! What’s up?”

The young techie had been on the edge of his tether waiting for his informant to make contact and now that he had, his patience was wearing thin. “Cut the crap Grey. Where the hell have you been?”

“Now … Is that any way to treat an old friend? You are joking right?”

“No … I’m not,” was his adamant reply.

“Ooh lardy da! Someone’s stroppy! Got your knickers in a knot hey Fergus?”

Biting his tongue at his reply, Fergus repeated more succinctly. “Where have you been John?”

“Keep your pants on old chum.” John Grey heard silence at the other end of their connection and knew that he had strung the young guy along long enough and finally replied, “Busy.”

Knowing how important any Intel could be, Fergus answered in a calmer voice. “Okay … busy doing what?”

“Par-taying … of course. You know me. I’m just a party animal. Love a good party. I just go bonkers for the ladies in Honkers! … Hmmmm … mmmm!” John Grey enthusiastically relayed where he had been and what he had been doing.

Aggravated with his stalling and knowing that he needed Intel ASAP Fergus let his frustration get the better of him. “John! Talk! Right now!”

Lost in his own little world the informant was quickly brought back to earth from his recollections as he could sense the techie’s disquiet. “Is this a bad time? I’ll call back when you’re in a better mood.”

Placated, Fergus realised that he could lose this long sort after connection on one of John Grey’s whims if he wasn’t careful. “No! … Listen John … I need a favour.”

He heard the apprehension in Fergus’ statement. Becoming decidedly more serious, he eventually answered in a more composed manner, “Anything for you Fergus … That’s what I’m here for. To make the bad times good. Right? What do you want to know?”

Pausing before taking a breath, he then continued, knowing that whatever John Grey had to tell him could be crucial to the mission. “Do you happen to know of a man named Phil Jurgen?”

The wheels of his memory were turning. “Jurgen you say?”

“Yes. Have you ever met this guy?”

His voice was upbeat. “Yeah sure. You know me, I know everybody. Jurgen and I go back to club days in London.”

“What can you tell me about him?”

Curiosity ate at him as to why Section One would want to know about Phil Jurgen but he had had his suspicions about him for a while in regards to questions he had thrown at him about the Rising Dragons triad. He felt it was strange that two informants were after the same Intel.

“In what regard?”

“Do you know if he has been snooping around and asking questions about the Rising Dragons for instance?”

“Come to think of it … he has been prying that’s for sure.”

Fergus called the man out. “He’s not passing Intel on to Section John.”

“I gathered that. I’ve had to fob him off a couple of times in my inimitable way.”

“Good.”

“We might move in the same circles but he doesn’t know what I know about the triad … that’s for sure.”

“How can you be certain?”

“Because … I value my life … That’s why.”

Fergus smiled at his answer especially knowing what Section One would do to John Grey if he lied and was found out. “And?”

“I’ve had to throw him a few red herrings to send him off on a tangent. He had been prying about the triad but had gone cold on any new leads about the Rising Dragons’ leader and has now moved on to greener pastures.”

“How do you know?”

“He flew to Abu Dhabi yesterday with Sheikh Abdul al-A’zam on his private jet. I drove him to the airport myself, but I’m sure Section will verify this.”

He didn’t answer, knowing that he would indeed check if this was true. Things were decidedly looking up, but he still needed John Grey’s information about the triad. “You’ve got the connections John; I need to know if you have any new Intel about the Rising Dragons and their members. Where they are … and what they are doing.”

“Do you?” was his canny reply.

Fergus could hear the smile in Grey’s voice as though he held all the cards and if the truth be known he did. He was convinced that John had very important Intel … Intel that Section One needed as soon as possible.

“Anyone in particular?”

It was obvious that the informant was stalling as if he had Claudel squirming on a hook. “Yeah … you know who John and quickly.”

“And what is in it …for me?”

“Jamie and Claire won't break every bone in your body when they find you,” was Fergus’ short and snappy reply.

Once again Grey gave his flippant retort. “Hmm? … Claire hey? I never could resist a woman like her in distress. My one weakness, really.”

“Okay … tell me everything you have and … fast.”

“Oh, it’s big Fergus. Very big. It’s like this …”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

He was all ears as he listened intently as John relayed his information knowing the importance of this new Intel to the mission end game. Whatever info they learned would be a major factor in how Section approached the next stage of capturing Sun Yee Lok. “Go on.”

“New players, lots of disgruntled members within triad factions, could get out of control. These people are very serious. Good lot to stay clear of and I plan to stay clear of them.”

Fergus knew that this was new Intel that Section could use. “Who?”

“Samuel Li. He’s Black Panthers. Not a very friendly chum. Middle of the totem pole but very ambitious. He’s gone up against Sun Yee Lok. He wants to be Dragon Head. Meeting happening as we speak, but low and behold a surprised guest arrived unannounced.”

“Where do we find them?”

“Aberdeen.”

Aberdeen was diverse. The meeting could be taking place anywhere in the surrounds of the province. He needed more clarification. “More information!”

“Oh right. Jumbo Floating restaurant. I’ll send pictures.”

As John Grey gave him the location Fergus brought up the map of the Aberdeen area to see what teams were close by. If the triad leader was in the vicinity he needed to be tracked.

“And Sun Yee Lok’s daughter?”

The mention of Karen Yee brought a smile to John’s lips. This girl was a stunner. Powerful, sassy, rich … but dangerous. “She throws the best parties … just went to one. Great looking birds … big hoot…”

Fergus cut him off before he had finished. “John!”

There was silence at the other end of the line as John Grey reminisced about the last couple of days spent at one of the best parties he had attended. “What?”

“Where John?”

“Hang on to your horses … Can’t a man have his memories for a moment?”

Frustrated with his informant’s tangent thoughts he asked, “Where John? Where was the party?”

“At a casino in Macau … The Golden Dragon.” As the IT specialist digested all the Intel he had supplied, John Grey continued raving on. “Great night … plenty of booze … lovely ladies … get my drift.”

However, Fergus interrupted him again while he was speaking, “Anything else?”

“Oh, yeah … Nearly forgot. There are rumours that Alvin Tang, is siphoning off money from the casino for his own benefit.”

“Who is he?”

“Sun Yee Lok’s deputy. He’s been in Macau for a year or two and has been running the casino for the triad. Apparently, Karen is learning the ropes from him. She may find out more than she bargained for though, if you get my drift?”

“Is that all?”

“Yes,” he finally replied.

Knowing that this Intel would be very pleasing to Madeline and Operations, Fergus added, “Someone will be in touch if we need anything else.”

“Yeah baby! Claire Beauchamp, I hope,” was his candid reply. “That woman has legs to die for … I could see them wrapped …”

Having heard enough Fergus cut off his rambling words once more. “Bye John.”

“Oh … Oh right then ... I’m off to get a cure for this raging headache of mine.” And with that he was gone.

Now all Fergus Claudel had to do was to inform Madeline and Operations about what he had discovered about the Rising Dragons and hoped that in the meantime his buddy Murtagh had been able to contact Jamie and Claire.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~to be continued Friday 18th September

#jamieandclaireau #Jamieandclairefanfic #outlander fanfic #the lallybroch library #crossover outlander/lfn spies modernau #LFNoutlander #covert operations

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ecoamerica · 1 month

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seyaryminamoto · 3 years

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Masterpost: answering a single anon in a single post

So. I wasn’t going to answer asks today but frankly, considering what I should be writing I’d rather answer asks, might actually get a laugh out of it. Most of all, because of what I intend to answer here.

To spare y’all from the pain and annoyance of having to read through any of my answers to we-know-who, I’m going to do it differently this time. All in one post. Because frankly, filling my blog with their TWENTY asks, no less (and it’s official this time, used to be sixteen but then I reblogged that post about conflict in stories and they went wild, as usual) isn’t worth anyone’s time. Hell, it’s not even worth mine, but procrastination is overpowering.

Here we go. If you’re not the anon in question and still want to read this, I hope you have fun.

This is a free world. That means multiple things some people can’t seem to accept. One such thing is that people have no obligation to even interact with each other, let alone to do what others demand of them, especially when they don’t want to. The fact is, being harassed (because, yes, there’s no other word for it) by someone has been a pretty irritating and stressful thing for me, to the point where it has impacted my ability to write...

And the harasser doesn’t give a single fuck about it and just keeps going :’)

With such introduction, I decide to engage my least favorite person in this site once again because clearly, ignoring them, blocking them, closing asks, deleting and rewriting reviews, is still not enough to get across the message that reiterating an opinion a million times doesn’t automatically make it more valid. So let’s see just what’s going on with this very much desperate person who apparently can’t stop seeking my attention:

First of all, I asked this person, point-blank, to address their asks, if they would continue sending them, to my main blog. Let’s see how that request turned out:

Oh my, astonishing! They sent it to Gladiator’s blog instead! And what a bigger shock: they’re, as usual, trying to control and direct what I write and how I write it. While sprinkling empty compliments that don’t mean a thing, such as claiming RESPECT for me and my work when every single ask they’ve sent is an outright disrespectful act against me, considering how many times I’ve requested, directly, that they stop this, and how many times they’ve ignored me. It even is extra poignant considering my request for them to send asks to my main blog instead, and yet they deliberately sent it to Gladiator’s blog. This is what RESPECT looks like, in this anon’s head. Fascinating stuff, isn’t it?

And then comes the mad onslaught that left me facedesking for days:

... I mean. Can someone please read this and tell me the person on the other side, with their vague condition, whatever it may be, has any idea what an apology even MEANS?

For someone who’s so obsessed with alleged consistency, you’re damn bad at it yourself, Anon. You can’t send four asks in a row, to the WRONG BLOG, demanding for explanations you don’t even care to read, because every single time I’ve taken your whining seriously you’ve disregarded all my responses and gone right back to the same BS as before, and THEN pretend you’re here TO APOLOGIZE.

You don’t feel any remorse. To this day, you don’t even KNOW what you did wrong. This is NOT expressing yourself: THIS IS HARASSMENT. Need me to define the word for you to understand what it means, seeing as it’s becoming abundantly clear your reading and interpretation skills are not the greatest?

Definitions of harassment:

1. (n) the act of tormenting by continued persistent attacks and criticism 2. (n) a feeling of intense annoyance caused by being tormented

I’ve said it before: PEOPLE HAVE HAD COMPLAINTS ABOUT THIS STORY, FAR MORE VALID THAN YOURS, AND I’VE NEVER REACTED THIS WAY. Care to guess why?

Because you NEVER stop. Because you keep going, constantly, never slowing down to think YOUR behavior is affecting a REAL LIFE HUMAN BEING. You’re obsessing over what happens in a fictional story that, by the way, is a fanfic, ergo, it obeys certain rules that general fiction does not. Among such rules is abiding by ORIGINAL characterization to a certain extent, and that means, hahaha, that Azula ISN’T an experienced character in any social or romantic situations because she ISN’T in canon, and there was no reason to change that, especially considering the worldbuilding I crafted, which makes it CRUCIAL for Azula to be careful with her virtue, despite she doesn’t want to be and realizes the whole notion of female virginal purity is absolute BULLSHIT.

But why am I explaining anything anyway? You won’t understand it, because you don’t want to. You claim, constantly, that you’re asking things OUT OF CURIOSITY, as if that makes ANYTHING better, when the truth is you’re just here to impose your cursed opinions on everyone else, especially me, and pretend you somehow own this fic and ship and your demands mean more than anyone else’s. Meanwhile, oh, I understand you PERFECTLY: you don’t want Sokka to ever have any experiences with any other women because you only believe in pure, untainted love of virgins who wait for each other and don’t ever make mistakes or are forced into unwanted situations. Because, again, you can’t understand that those sorts of things CAN happen. Because you don’t see there’s nuance to human beings, nuance I attempt to capture through my characters too.

I said it semi-jokingly, back in my past answers, now I say it directly: IF YOU CAN’T STOMACH THESE SITUATIONS AND CAN’T ACCEPT THEM, THIS STORY IS NOT FOR YOU.

An M-rated story doesn’t owe you any apologies for being what it is. An M-rated story, at the end of the day, is a STORY. You are a human being who should be capable of controlling not only your impulses but your reactions to things, at least to some degree, and yet you refuse to. You, in fact, continue to prove you CAN’T control yourself in the least because hey, just now, halfway through writing this post? I got THREE MORE ASKS by you. No less than three. And you finished them off, again, with a pretense that you’re going to stop pestering me...

... But hey. You said that at the end of the last ask I pasted up there. Hmm. And yet...

You came back, over and over and over again? :’)

RIGHT ON ALL ACCOUNTS! So... how do TWENTY ASKS, after claims that you’d finally stop, count as “regret”? You’re not changing at all, anon, because YOU DON’T WANT TO. You don’t, to this day, see what you did wrong. You don’t get it. And you won’t get it. So how about we just keep going with the next four?

Oh! But hey, you actually switched blogs this time. Super sweet of you to finally listen to ONE thing I said. Very nice.

I’ll just point out: I received the last NINE asks I’ve pasted here in a SINGLE DAY.

Nine. In one day.

I only ever got that many asks in a single go during review parties (admittedly, there were more than that, but still). The fact that you felt the need to send me NINE ASKS, to beg for forgiveness with a completely dishonest apology, is all the proof of harassment anyone could possibly ask for, right? If you weren’t an anon and at least had the GUTS to own up to your opinions, which you seem to consider absolutely sacred and completely correct, you’d have never gotten away with this. Ergo why you don’t have those guts, and why you keep sending anon reviews and asks too.

The fact that you’re so obsessed with this problem, to the point of believing Sokka’s best sex was with JUNE? We’ve literally finished an entire arc of Sokka and Azula banging across the Fire Nation with no restraint, with the two of them repeatedly remarking this is the best time they’ve ever had, and you’re so completely obsessed with this problem that you apparently think Sokka angrily fucking someone WHILE DECEIVING HIMSELF INTO THINKING IT WAS SOMEONE ELSE is... better? Are you FOR REAL? Are you seriously THAT BAD at reading?

Please, click here. I can’t even stand it anymore. It’s not even for my own sake but yours. You need it.

Also... you’re projecting so bad. Like, so bad. June’s teasing in that chapter is 100% intended to piss them off. The fact that she starts asking for Azula to lend her her “second boyfriend”, AKA Rui Shi, should tell you just how much stock June puts in what happened between her and Sokka: SHE DOESN’T GIVE A DAMN. She’s honestly more entertained by pissing off Azula as a consequence of it than over the sex she had with Sokka, especially considering she even lost her temper with him after he started apologizing in 28. You’re so completely beside yourself you can’t see ANYTHING clearly?

If you REALLY need it spelled out, no, Sokka wasn’t June’s best sex. June has probably done anyone and everyone she ever wanted to, and chances are she absolutely found someone, or several someones, who actually wanted HER, for HER, just as much as she may have wanted them. And that, you insecure mess of a human being, would absolutely make for a much better lay than what she got with Sokka. Why don’t I outright state this in the story, you’ll ask? Because despite what you may believe, this story ISN’T a love triangle between Azula, Sokka and June! Oh my, the horror! We’ve literally spent 198 chapters building up the story and developing Azula and Sokka’s relationship but the ONE TIME encounter with June apparently makes her that pivotal for your whole existence?

Dude, I literally don’t look at 28 AT ALL these days, because I don’t care to. Because even when I wrote it, it hurt me so bad having written it that I was crazy about getting to everything else so I could put it behind me. Whenever I reference it, I do the same way I reference ANYTHING ELSE. The only person who seems to think I’m doing it to further torture anyone IS YOU.

And yes, did I just say it hurt me too? Oh, my, what a SHOCKER! The fact is, that scene is only as intense as it is because I literally couldn’t bring myself to write it. It wasn’t until it came to mind that Sokka COULD imagine Azula in June’s place that I finally found the way to do it: it wasn’t just Sokka imagining Azula instead, it was ME. Because if it had been anything else? I wouldn’t have been able to write it at all. I basically wrote it as hatesex Sokkla because I NEEDED to in order to write it. “THEN WHY DID YOU EVEN WRITE IT?!?!?”, you’ll scream, I’m sure: BECAUSE I TREAT MY CHARACTERS AS HUMAN BEINGS WHO MAKE MISTAKES AND DO THINGS THEY SHOULDN’T HAVE. BECAUSE SOKKA WAS IN A DARK PLACE AND DIDN’T UNDERSTAND WHAT AZULA WAS FEELING OR THINKING. BECAUSE AZULA WAS IMPULSIVE AND CONTROLLING AND COULDN’T REALIZE THAT THE MORE SHE TRIED TO FORCE SOKKA TO BEND TO HER WILL, THE MORE HE WOULD TRY TO BREAK FREE.

But all this is clearly too complex for you. Can’t even fathom understanding anything remotely close to characterization and conflict within relationships, no. You’re something else entirely.

And so, we move on to the post-apology Anon: you DO realize that forgiveness is something earned? I mean, it’s kinda funny because Sokka actually earned his own. He spent ages working for it, and even AFTER Azula told him he was forgiven, he still feels so bad about having hurt her that, to this day, he regrets it. Being FORGIVEN was not a condition for him to feel remorse. He regretted his actions because HE KNEW THEY WERE WRONG. Because he’s an actual, decent human being who, when faced with a catastrophic mistake, actually wants to amend it and wishes he had acted differently despite he can’t take anything back anymore.

But you? You can’t even begin to understand what regret means. I guess another dictionary definition would help?

Definitions of regret

1. (v) feel remorse for; feel sorry for; be contrite about

2. (v) feel sad about the loss or absence of

3. (v) express with regret

4. (v) decline formally or politely

5. (n) sadness associated with some wrong done or some disappointment

So, your attempts to beg for forgiveness fall completely flat. And I say it in plural, ATTEMPTS, because in case you think I’m daft and forgot your old reviews and asks, I didn’t: THIS ISN’T YOUR FIRST ATTEMPT TO APOLOGIZE FOR THIS BULLSHIT. I thought I should clarify that, because heh, you have claimed you won’t come back, you have claimed you’re sorry, you have said many platitudes in the past that actually had no meaning... and I could tell they didn’t, which is why I never answered them. Because there was no way someone who had exhibited such obsessive behavior would actually control themselves and get over their issues after MONTHS of persistent harassment.

And so, you didn’t disappoint, because I had zero expectations that you’d actually abide by your apologies. Empty apologies, again, because to this moment you don’t even know what you did wrong. You don’t get it. To put it in the way I did for someone else who talked to me about this mess:

You could be complaining to me about something else entirely. You could be here, demanding that I explain why I’ve been writing Sokka killing people, for instance. You could be disregarding all sense, reason, historical precedents and what-have-you as to why a warmongering, canonically genocidal nation like the Fire Nation would ever have a system like the Gladiator League and enslave other cultures to do their bidding.

And if you came back with those complaints PERSISTENTLY, FOR A YEAR, I’D BE JUST AS ANGRY AS I AM NOW.

It’s NOT about the situation you’re throwing a fit over. It’s NOT about me having it out for you. It’s about YOU not knowing limits or boundaries, going as far as you constantly, consistently have, ever seeking to twist my story into whatever warped, fucked up perception you’ve developed over it, without ever slowing down to think that your actions and your behavior are affecting someone else. I’m not just a rambling robot who can’t seem to stop talking or writing or whatever you may think I am: I’m an actual person with a FUCKLOAD of problems, who literally just had the WORST year of her life, and you just decided to continue adding to the pile, never slowing down to consider that your feelings, and your opinions, and your pain, does NOT invalidate other people’s, let alone does it make you EXEMPT of hurting others. Which, heh, if you knew how to read, you could’ve even LEARNED this from Gladiator! :’D

Because Azula, so hurt as she was, took to hurting Sokka too, in many, many ways. And Sokka, once he understood how wrongly he had judged Azula, simply let her hurt him because he thought he deserved everything she threw at him. Later on? Azula realizes all the pain she caused Sokka COULD have led him to choose the White Lotus over her. She’s in a life-or-death situation, unable to fight back, and the ONLY reason she doesn’t get screwed over and captured by the enemy is because Sokka decides she matters more to him than joining forces with sketchy people who are out for revenge. But what if she’d hurt him more than she had? What if she’d done WORSE than she did? Maybe he would’ve been so hurt too that, at this point, he would’ve chosen the White Lotus and not only abandoned her but handed her over to her nation’s enemies! :’) oh, the horror. Is it really that unthinkable? Why, it’s not to me. And why not? Because if Azula had been as unforgiving and unyielding as you are, if she had been so obsessive over whatever caused her pain and refused to move on... this story would SUCK. BADLY.

Makes you wonder what that says about your mentality, doesn’t it?

Alas, after all this digression as to why your behavior is absolutely appalling to me, let’s see what you did indeed, right after your absolutely shallow apology that was obviously not sincere, because you don’t regret having bothered me at all, you just regret that I won’t abide by your whining...

Is THIS what an apologetic, remorseful person looks like? Really, now? Honestly, if Sokka were half as bad as you are, he would’ve slept with half the Fire Nation by now while constantly coming back to Azula like “Oh woops did it again, sorry!”

Yes, I can honestly make the link pretty easily. Must be why you keep assuming he’ll ever be with someone else, because if you were in his place, you would do exactly that :’) beautiful how things just come full circle, isn’t it?

That ask came as a response to another, potentially ill-intended one, potentially sent by you too. An ask I answered with a whole list of unique things Sokka has done for Azula. Not only did you NOT understand the list’s purpose despite you may have even been the one to ask for it... but you took a line directly referencing OBVIOUS events like chapters 64, 69 and 93, moments in which Azula either put a stop to opportunities where she and Sokka might have ended up going too far, and he accepted it without complaint... or Sokka himself put a stop to them, KNOWING that Azula would be taking a huge risk if she gave herself to him completely as she does from 97 onwards. That you literally took something that was SO VERY OBVIOUS, and twisted it into chapter 28 again speaks LENGTHS of how absolutely messed up your perception and interpretation of this whole story is. You have issues. Serious issues. And I’m not saying this just to be an ass, I’m saying it because it’s clear as day that if you CAN’T stop linking absolutely everything I say or do to chapter 28, whether it’s being referenced or not (and in this case, it was NOT), the problem isn’t me, IT’S YOU.

And here we go again. You are actually trying to POLICE the Sokkla fandom at this point? An ANON? And hey, you returned to the Gladiator blog! Which means you were so pissed that I didn’t answer your previous asks and your phony apology because I KNEW you’d come back that even your teeny, tiny behavioral correction was pulled back because you were MAD. And you HAD TO MAKE YOUR OPINIONS KNOWN, AGAIN.

Do tell, are you the same ass who harassed a pretty new friend I’ve made in this fandom? An honestly solid writer who happens to feature Sokka having other, prior relationships to Azula because, haha, if you work with CANON settings, that’s basically guaranteed since Sokka already has canon relationships before even knowing Azula exists? And then, even if in those experiences Sokka ends up going “... I bet it’d be better with Azula”, you STILL take this as a slight and you consider it a reason to go around harassing writers and potentially even THREATENING to report their content because you’re mad that Sokka isn’t exclusively Azula’s in every single story you pick up?

The worst part is, I actually wrote at least 2 stories in my Saturdays’ oneshots where Azula and Sokka are each other’s first everything, absolutely so. And I got nothing from you for it, not even a teeny tiny “HEY THANK YOU YOU FINALLY WROTE WHAT I WANTED TO SEE!”. No, you only come out of your hole to ATTACK writers. To tell us what to do when you think we’re not doing it right. As if you had the SLIGHTEST right to tell ANYONE what to do.

I literally have been here for EIGHT YEARS. I’ve been creating content for this ship for that long, when nobody else was anymore. I won’t take credit for the ship’s rise in popularity, despite yes, it’s far from a major ship no matter how far we’ve come... but my story didn’t reach the heights it has out of sheer dumb luck. I worked my ass off with Gladiator in every way I could to make it a story of the scope and depth it deserved to be, and the fact that people who didn’t even ship Sokkla were interested in reading the story all the same has always been something I take pride on. A ton of multishippers read this story, and support Sokkla too: neither you nor ANYONE has any right to demand or claim or pretend that someone else has no right to be part of this fandom or to set guidelines as to what their content should be. There’s LITERAL stories out there of Sokka having a goddamn HAREM, just so you know, with Azula included amongst the women involved in it... and you’re here, throwing a fit over people featuring Sokka having one-time encounters and brief relationships with other girls before committing completely to Azula.

I’ve been here, working my ass off for Sokkla, not only in writing but literally developing my art skills to the best of my ability so I could ONE DAY create the visuals and images these two evoked for me...

And yet I don’t feel I have any right to tell ANYONE how to make their content.

If there was a set number of words in fics or artworks someone needed to make for a ship to prove themselves worthy of obtaining the skill of GATEKEEPING, I am 100% positive I have more than outdone that limit.

And yet I DON’T play gatekeeper. I NEVER have, and I NEVER will. People can create whatever they want to create, whether I enjoy it or not is up to me, and if I DON’T enjoy it, I DON’T read it. If there’s Sokkla content out there I can’t even STOMACH? I would ignore it and move on with my life. You? You make it your whole life’s crusade to attack people over anything that tickles you wrong. That’s how it works, isn’t it?

Unless you’re planning on pulling a Scooby-Doo-esque twist where you remove your mask and reveal you were a known Sokkla fan and content creator all along, which I find ABSOLUTELY unlikely, then this means you haven’t done anything, ANYTHING, for this fandom beyond sending anonymous harassment to people who are actually taking time out of their lives to create content for this ship. The main reaction I’ve seen at you from ANY of us, whether anons like yourself or actual content creators like myself, is that you have too much time on your hands and need a better hobby. And I agree, completely.

So, where people like me and my fellow Sokkla creators are actually making content that convinces people, if not to ship it, to at least CONSIDER this ship a possibility... you’re out there, in hiding, pretending you have any right to tell us what to do and going ignored on most accounts. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: if I had any respect for someone, and they either stopped responding to me or started responding by telling me to leave them alone, I’d feel like such stain of garbage I’d never even try to interact with them again. While people absolutely can be different and react differently to things... I can’t see how, exactly, you have any respect for me when knowing you’re a problem for me has never stopped you and most likely never will.

I’ll admit, this one actually made me laugh. Like... you’re seriously trying to tell me that a sex scene was way too good and that’s why I have to change it. I actually disagree on every account, because the last time I revisited 28 I thought the scene was absolutely distant from my best work? I’ve written soooo much smut recently and literally any of those scenes kicks 28 out of any “best smut” contest by MILES. But... heh. This one, apparently, was too good.

I mean... thank you? For telling me that my smut skills are apparently that great they need to be toned down? Fascinating, really.

But again, “it sadly seems to be a too late to write chapter 28″. Sadly?

SADLY?

You can stick your sadness up where the sun doesn’t shine, dude:

SOMEONE WHO THREW SUCH A FIT OVER THEIR REVIEWS BEING REWRITTEN SHOULD

NEVER

TELL SOMEONE ELSE THAT IT’S TOO BAD THEY CAN’T REWRITE ANY OF THEIR CONTENT.

EVER

You can’t pretend, again, that you were EVER sorry for ANY of what you did... while still trying to tell someone they should rewrite their content. Honest to gods, you’re an asshole. You are. And if you think I’m one too, great, I own up to it gladly. But you’re the one willingly intoxicating their brain with my content, only to consistently go MAD over it, and then unleash this kind of illogical nonsense right back at me. I know art can generate a myriad of responses, but I am NOT responsible for your immaturity and inability to handle serious subjects and topics that SHOULD MAKE YOU UNCOMFORTABLE. If you don’t KNOW how to deal with the fact that there’s a lot of questionable, dislikeable things in this world, then my damn story is the least of your concerns because you’re well on your way to leading a VERY miserable life, Anon. Better get ready for it, will you?

And again, the Gladiator blog. Again, pretending to be well-mannered, and also, again, using the world “sadly”, same as the ask above. Like... man, what on earth is wrong with you. Are you seriously this masochistic? Do you also drink arsenic for sport? What on EARTH brings you the belief that asking how far or how much was done between Sokka and his previous one-night-stands would help you IN ANY WAY, WHATSOEVER?

I think I’ll answer that question, for once, with actual quotes, taken right from some of your favorite chapters, no less:

"When you and Ruon Jian got married, was he…?" she asked. Mai only raised a confused eyebrow, and Azula had the distinct feeling that Mai knew what she was talking about, but would force her to blurt it out anyways. She sighed: "A virgin."

Ty Lee's hands flew to her mouth as Mai raised her eyebrows. To Azula's astonishment, she merely shrugged.

"I don't know. I never asked," she said. Azula snorted.

"Then you're smarter than me. By far," she grunted. Mai smirked.

And as things digress there into Azula explaining what happened, let’s skip that and go straight to Mai’s direct answer:

"I've never asked Ruon Jian about whether or not he had anything serious with other girls before me because I seriously don't care," said Mai. "If I knew about it, I'd probably have a bout of jealousy like yours, I suppose… but it's in his past, and he left them behind to make me his present and his future. So, whatever he might have experienced before, with however many women there were, isn't something I'm overly concerned about."

"You're awfully mature compared to me if that's the case," said Azula, slipping her fingers through her hair again. Mai smirked.

"You've been complimenting me quite a lot today, Azula, that's not like you…"

"Shut up," Azula grunted. Mai chuckled.

:’)

This is the only answer this ask warrants. The fact that you’re so immature and so obsessed as to want to know more about what happened with something you HATE is completely cringeworthy and absurd. If you want to get angry imagining Sokka having wild sex with every woman who crosses his path, go ahead and do it, but do us both a favor and torture yourself, and yourself alone, with those thoughts rather than coming back TWENTY TIMES to my inbox looking for MORE reasons to get angry. You’re honestly unbelievable.

You know, that reading comprehension site I linked up there? Courses, 20% off! Seriously, perfect fit for you. You need it, direly.

Like... how can someone read a story built on the premise of Azula literally defeating Sokka painfully in battle to the point he’s left unable to move, taking Sokka away from home, turning him into a slave, being objectively responsible for the WORST TWO YEARS OF HIS LIFE... and then come to my inbox asking if Azula will ever hurt Sokka?

Dude, you’re off the deep end. You can’t even pretend you have a grasp on reality if you SERIOUSLY THINK Azula has NEVER hurt Sokka. Like, seriously, it feels like you’re reading this truncated version of Gladiator that’s only chapters 28, 111, 112 and perhaps 123? Is that what’s going on?

I’ve had Sokka and Azula arguing over ANYTHING AND EVERYTHING, whether for humorous or for serious purposes, since the very beginning of the story. Their first serious falling out is LITERALLY caused by the direct conflict of their worldviews clashing in chapter 12. Their second falling out was indeed caused by women: by Azula’s discovery that Sokka didn’t want to fight women, which of course, doesn’t bother you in the least because you and I both know that’s NOT what your problem was.

I could literally run through the whole story listing every single argument they’ve had, every single time they’ve hurt each other if that’s what you want: their first time? It literally comes from a very serious argument where Sokka believed he had reached the pinnacle of his potential as a fighter and feared Azula would need someone else to achieve her goals instead of him.

AND YOU’RE SERIOUSLY HERE ASKING IF THEY’LL EVER ARGUE OVER ANYTHING ELSE.

You don’t read this story. This ask absolutely proved it to me. You only read chapter 28 and everything potentially connected to Sokka having anything with other women. You don’t CARE about anything else, simply. Because if anything actually had ANY impact on you? You’d say something about it. But the only thing that touches your weird heart is Sokka sleeping with anyone else or having any potentially romantic interactions with someone else, whether he rejects them or not.

You don’t care about Gladiator. You only care about your ego, and the validation of your worldview and puritanic morals.

And to that I say, fuck that noise. I write whatever the hell I want to write, and you’re not going to rope me into playing it safe just to please insecure harassers who don’t know boundaries and are completely incapable of empathizing with anyone while demanding everyone should understand their feelings.

Final note on this matter: you, also, have no idea what love is. You plain and simple don’t understand it. You’re even more confused by what love should be than Azula was at the start of this story. You don’t get it, AT ALL.

All you want is for them to get even on things? You literally asked me, when I was in my angry spree of deleting your bullshit, to make Azula and her future husband have happy consensual quality sex with who knows how many orgasms... because it was only fair!

AGAIN: YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND LOVE IN THE LEAST.

If you think love is about getting even, you’re seriously an asshole. If you think love is about both people being 100% equal in social regards and experiences, you don’t even UNDERSTAND human relations. Do you live in a bubble, by any chance? Maybe you do! You must have zero contact with anyone other than people with your same puritanic beliefs, right? So that means you assume everyone who’s different from you is fundamentally a bad person? I take it?

Like... literally at this point I think you’d hear about someone who was abused in their childhood, molested, and your reaction would simply be “Oh wow I hope someone molests whoever they end up marrying too, so that way they may be even in the future and been molested by the exact same number of people, otherwise it’s not really love”.

This is fucking sick. I’m not holding back at this point, it’s SICK. It’s TWISTED. It’s VILE. Your mentality is absolutely repulsive to me. You don’t know what love is, and you have the most literal, obvious change to understand it better by reading this story properly, but instead you just read chapter 28 over and over and over again, isn’t that right?

And here’s the evidence of that. You really want me to answer that last question?

No, it doesn’t bug me to read that AT ALL. Because unlike you? I don’t obsessively reread 28 while disregarding everything else in the story. Unlike you, I don’t revisit the chapter every day to pick apart every line to look for reasons to get extra angry at those developments.

Most of us, when faced with things we DON’T like in fiction? We move past it. You, instead, dig yourself into a hole and continue digging, and then pretend to hold other people responsible for whatever impact this may be having on your psyche. Because yes, you’re holding me responsible for whatever trauma or insecurity this is awakening inside you when you continue to pester me as you have: if you’re an adult, you should have the tools and brains to determine what is and what isn’t acceptable behavior, as well as to curate your own experiences with media, with fandom, with EVERYTHING to do with these communities. If you choose to look for things to hate instead of things to love, THAT’S ON YOU.

And if you’re allegedly looking for things to love but can’t find ANY that suit your purposes (which... is bullshit. Clearly, your only priority is “Sokka must be a virgin who never had anything with anyone else”, and such stories DO exist, which I guarantee considering I’ve written at least THREE of them, where it’s absolutely stated that Sokka’s first and only one is Azula)...

Well, it’s funny. Because when I got here? I was looking for some very specific fics so I could explore whether or not Sokkla made any sense. And I didn’t find them.

Which resulted...

... In me writing the very stories I wanted to see.

Oh, my. Imagine taking your impulses and channeling them into something productive rather than looking for reasons to get angry 24/7! Must be such a NOVEL CONCEPT for you!

Seriously, you have no right to dictate what anyone does. Again, worth bringing up because you INSIST on the rewriting matter. Even if you’re claiming you’re done asking for it, you somehow KEEP bringing it up. And then you act like me mentioning 28′s events here or there in the story is absolutely outrageous... but you just go right on ahead and do the same thing yourself, don’t you? Funny how much of a hypocrite you really are, isn’t it?

The fact that you’re bringing up something I have NEVER written, and have NO INTENTIONS of ever writing, as some sort of stupid, ridiculous argument to be made AGAINST the post I literally reblogged TODAY... is just absurd beyond belief.

The fact that I ever even wrote Sokka cheating on Suki with Azula, which I DID, still bothers me. Because yes, it made for a good story, but the truth is, it doesn’t sit well with me. It worked in The Reason, worked in my collab story with a friend, but it doesn’t mean I feel 100% happy with that choice. Even if the cheating only amounted to a kiss in The Reason, and then a lot worse than just that in the other story, it’s still not cool! :’) I know this!

... And yet no one, NO ONE, has ever caught me writing Sokka cheating on Azula. In fact, when my collab story with my friend seemed to start moving towards that angle I BEGGED her not to do it, and then she didn’t, and my heart was deeply relieved and blissful for it. Because not only did it mean we wouldn’t have to deal with the very controversial and unsettling notion of someone in a good relationship cheating on their significant other... but because in that story, it also showed how much he had grown, and how he was truly devoted to Azula despite he hadn’t been to Suki.

But alas, I have my qualms with that concept, of course I do. And I don’t like it. Ergo, I’ll never write it.

Which begs the question as to WHY, exactly, you’re so obsessed with the notion of Sokka cheating on Azula? Like... do you get off on it? Are you wanking at the idea of Sokka and June every single night and then wake up feeling like crap and then take it out on me, by any chance? Is that what’s going on? Because I’m seriously starting to believe it is.

You clearly don’t understand anything about storytelling, which is probably why you don’t have the guts to create your own content in the first place. But the fact that I reblog a post about how conflict in a story is GOOD, and your first thought is “THEN THAT MEANS YOU APPROVE OF SOKKA CHEATING!” actually says A LOT MORE about you than it says about me. You need help. Clearly, the therapy site I was sending you to the last time wasn’t much good, was it? I guess you just ignored it in the end. Hopefully the reading comprehension one will suit you better, right?

Fuck you, seriously, for coming to someone who has been working this hard for this long, for a ship that they’re completely devoted to, to spout this kind of senseless shit. To think you seriously ever believed I’d accept your half-assed apologies when you’ve been doing this sort of bullshit for this long... you’re a piece of work. If you have the time to write that BULLSHIT into my inbox, at the very least use that time to look INWARD and ponder just what your damn problem is, resolve it on your own, AND LEAVE ME THE HELL OUT OF IT. Someone as immature and unstable as you has no business reading M-rated fiction, and I honestly rue the day you ever clicked my story. Both your life and mine would be countless times better if you simply had scrolled past it.

And on and on we went today. The THREE MORE ASKS that arrived as I was typing this insanely long response. Which resulted in you bumping the total, successfully, to 20. MIGHTY NICE OF YOU TO PROVE ME RIGHT! :’)

Now then, getting serious here... I must say your priorities are fucked. Like. Really fucked.

You’d rather Sokka tries to KILL AZULA than have a one-time sexual encounter with someone?

Like... you’re here, condoning VIOLENCE AGAINST WOMEN to that extent...? :’D and then you... you actually have the balls to whine because apparently him hurting her feelings is WORSE?!

Are you EVEN LISTENING TO YOURSELF???

You know, I think I have to offer you some REALLY good advice right now: go watch Naruto. Seriously, all of it. Go watch it, and enjoy your sweet loins’ release once Sasuke and Sakura start trying to kill each other, ONLY TO END UP TOGETHER AT THE END! :’) They were both 100% faithful to each other too, in the sense of Sakura getting depicted as a girl who can’t ever get over the guy she had a crush on when she was 6, no matter if he tries to kill her or her friends once he starts to go off the deep end, and Sasuke getting depicted as a guy who treats everyone like garbage, even the people he loves, because his manpain story somehow validates him being absolutely toxic to everyone he knows, so that’s absolutely up your alley! 100% the love story you’ve been looking for! You’re gonna LOVE IT.

Man, I just can’t believe you. I really can’t believe you. You’re seriously asking me to feature Sokka trying to kill Azula because that’s more acceptable to you. There was a story out there, you know? With Azula basically using Sokka to commit suicide, impaling herself on his sword and dying? You should just go look for that too, perfect fit for you (though it may be gone from the depths of this wretched site by now, which tbh I’d be grateful for, since it was the most unsettling, disturbing read).

Also? Thank you, truly, for all the remarkably shallow compliments you’ve thrown at me to “soften” your “criticism” (which, again, is whining, not legitimate criticism). Calling me a capable writer is super NICE of you, especially after all these months of persistent harassment and constant repetition that I should rewrite whatever you don’t like. I mean... that’s definitely the way someone treats a capable writer, isn’t that right?

“The problem isn’t conflict it’s what the conflict is”, the anon says. I’ve been writing a story for 8 years, 198 chapters and counting... and I’ve had a ton of different types of conflicts for Sokka and Azula to deal with. If your problem is “I don’t like this conflict”, FINE. But... hey. There have been THOUSANDS of other sources of conflict across the story, so many I don’t think I can even promise I’d ever take my time to count them all... there’s whole ARCS with conflicts regarding world politics and the war’s consequences and both Azula and Sokka completely changing their worldviews as they realize their realities are soooo much more complicated than they ever knew...!

Ergo. There ARE other conflicts. There are SO MANY of them that there’s no point in even listing it all out.

And yet you are obsessed with the one conflict you didn’t like, outright acting like THIS IS THE ONLY CONFLICT THERE EVER WAS, as proven by that preposterous and mindless “when will Azula ever hurt Sokka” ask. The one development you were pissed at, because it tickled your loins the wrong way. Oh yes, I’m a capable writer, I could’ve done things differently...!

BUT I DIDN’T!

And aren’t you thrilled that I didn’t? You would be a complete nobody in this fandom if this hadn’t happened, because otherwise what would you POSSIBLY have to complain about?! To harass someone about?! You’d be SO BORED! You’d be so unknown, nobody would even be aware of your existence...!

Though.

Wait.

You’re an anon.

You’re unreachable and nobody really knows who you are.

... So never mind, you actually still are a complete nobody in this fandom and your only attempt to even take part in it is to be a negative, irritating presence that literally makes people facepalm, laugh and ridicule you to the extent I and many others have laughed at you.

And yes, that post I reblogged was 100% worth reblogging. Why? Because it hits the nail on the head:

I DIDN’T WRITE 28 SO YOU’D BE HAPPY WITH SOKKA.

I DIDN’T WRITE THAT CHAPTER TO MAKE PEOPLE THINK “OH WOW WHAT A WHOLESOME SITUATION”.

I WROTE IT BECAUSE IT WAS MEANT TO DETONATE CONFLICT AND SPEED UP CHARACTER GROWTH AND DEVELOPMENT, WHICH IT DID.

And the thing is? Maybe, in the future, I’ll write other stories, just as I wrote the Saturdays’ stories, and Sokka won’t have either meaningful or worth mentioning encounters with anyone else in them. Maybe I’ll write original fiction, and there won’t be any twists like what happened in 28!

But you will never get over this.

You will never care about any other content beyond this.

And that’s your failing, not mine.

If you would rather obsess over what makes you angry, that’s on YOU. But I’m damn sure I wrote a pretty reasonable conflict, character-wise, that was not only consistent with characterization but with the slightly darker take of the Avatarverse I’ve been working with. Not only that, but I NEVER skipped the consequences of their actions. I literally had them facing those consequences for whole arcs. Sokka assumed he’d never have a chance to be with Azula and made his peace with it, WITHOUT EVER PRETENDING HIS DEVELOPING FEELINGS FOR AZULA WERE ANYTHING THAT ENTITLED HIM TO HER LOVE IN RETURN. But oh, that’s too complex for you to understand, isn’t it? The fact that Sokka actually loves Azula for her, and not for himself, that he devotes himself to her in every imaginable way, that he fights people who dare disrespect her, that he would stop at NOTHING, even coming close to killing someone, to keep her safe despite he’s completely against killing people? That all means NOTHING to you.

And again? THAT’S YOUR PROBLEM. THAT’S YOUR FAILING. THAT YOU’RE SO OBSESSED WITH 28 AND CAN’T MOVE PAST IT IS NOT MY FAULT, IT’S YOURS.

Because I damn right moved past it. I’ve moved so far past it I literally don’t ever THINK about that damn situation until your stupid asks start arriving. Heck, maybe if you didn’t ASK so much about it, I’d stop bringing it up in recent chapters of the story :’) how do you feel about that particular kernel of unexpected information? Maybe you’re impacting the story in a whole shocking manner by inception-ing 28 into my head all the time and that’s why I can’t seem to stop throwing in lines referencing it for you to go completely BONKERS over. How about that? :’)

Say... how exactly do you think this fic is special? Literally all I know is you think I’m a capable writer who can create something perfectly catered for you, and yet ALL the feedback I’ve ever gotten from you is “REWRITE 28 AND EVERYTHING ABOUT SOKKA HAVING ANYTHING WITH OTHER GIRLS I DON’T UNDERSTAND ANY OF THIS I’M GENUINELY CURIOUS THIS IS LEGITIMATE CRITICISM SIGNING OFF BYE”. Your compliments are completely devoid of meaning because they’re literally just a handful of “you’re a good writer” and you don’t even say WHY you think I’m good. You don’t ever come here to tell me how much you enjoyed a certain scene, or how happy you are with a certain development... No.

Because when Sokka and Azula got married? What did I get?

“HOW CAN YOU LET SOKKA AND AZULA GET MARRIED NOW WHEN HE SLEPT WITH SOMEONE ELSE IN CHAPTER 28?!”

I wish I had screenshots for those, but you and I both know the truth, you irksome anon, and the truth is you did exactly that. And with every new development in Shu Jing, I got yet more reviews and ask(s), persistently whining about how UNFAIR it is that now Azula apparently is locked in marriage with this unfaithful man who has been unfaithful to her a grand total number of ZERO TIMES ever since their relationship began! How DARES he even think about marrying her?! Scourge of earth, let’s murder him in cold blood because DEATH IS BETTER THAN CHEATING!!!

If you think highly of Gladiator for ANY REASON, you’ve kept those reasons well and safely tucked away in the depths of your broken heart or shared them with anyone but me. Look at all these asks, damn you, and tell me at what point in time did you convey ANYTHING beyond “why don’t you write what I want you to write?”, huh? Because hell, I don’t see it in any of them. Literally nowhere. No backwards (: emojis are compliments or evidence of how much this story allegedly means to you. All I know is that you hate 28 and everything about it.

And you see...

I don’t give a flying fuck.

I don’t.

You can hate 28 all you want.

You can hate June.

You can hate Sokka.

It is, INDEED, a free world.

But you have no right, NONE WHATSOEVER, to commit to this level of harassment as you have, for A WHOLE YEAR, and pretend the problem is that I, Seyary, the “evil super-sensitive author who writes Sokka sleeping with other people and doesn’t even break a sweat but then crumbles to pieces when “negative” feedback arrives”, can’t handle your comments properly.

I’ve said it before, damn you: NO ONE NEEDS TO REITERATE THEIR OPINIONS A MILLION TIMES. NO ONE. NOT YOU, NOT THE PEOPLE DEMANDING FOR THE PLOT TO KICK INTO HIGH GEAR, NOT THE ONES WHO THINK THIS SHIP IS GARBAGE, NOT ANYONE.

NO ONE HAS ANY RIGHT OR REASON TO COME BACK PERSISTENTLY THORUGHOUT A YEAR TO HARASS SOMEONE NO MATTER HOW MANY TIMES THEY’RE TOLD TO STOP IT.

Point being: HATE WHAT YOU WILL! But keep it the fuck off my blog. And if you CAN’T? Get used to these responses. Because you’re going to get them, constantly. I guarantee it.

I know your damn opinion already. I know it by heart and I damn wish I didn’t. You are perfectly free to go read all the other stories where I’ve had Sokka staying faithful to Azula, with Azula being his first, or with Azula being much more experienced and sleeping around while Sokka stays mostly chaste... but you don’t. You come back, every time, to my miserable inbox that must cry every time you show up in it, to make these demands and pretend you have any power over what I should be writing.

Again, no, I have no idea why this story matters to you at all. And at this point? I’d rather NOT know. Because I’m 100% sure the only thing that matters most to you is chapter 28. So you know, go ahead, wank to it again and cry yourself to sleep. It’s kind of fascinating to have written something that has such a visceral emotional impact on a complete and total stranger. Makes it clear I’ve made a lot of progress as a writer if I can fuck up someone’s life to this extent with what I’ve written.

Yeah. Sure. You really think I’ll buy it? You really think this is goodbye? Oh, no, Anon. You can’t stay away. You’ve been told to, you’ve been asked to, but you can’t.

So no, I’m not wishing you good luck back. And I’m certainly not wishing you any fun with my fic, because it’s more than clear that the only source of entertainment it provided you was chapter 28, seeing as it’s the only impactful thing I apparently ever wrote. And someone who’s that obsessed with one of the chapters I most disliked writing despite I knew the plot would benefit from it in the long run simply can’t deserve to have fun. So... good suffering over Gladiator, if anything? Go ahead and continue to wrack your brain while trying to unravel why, oh, why would ANYONE ever write what I wrote and still call themselves a Sokkla shipper?!

I dunno, maybe go on and write something similar yourself. Could be you’ll finally figure out what your problem is if you take to writing the cheating storylines you’re so very much obsessed with. Only, heh, I can guarantee I’m not touching anything you write, out of principle more than anything. I plain and simple don’t want anything to do with you... but as I don’t intend to close my inbox again, it seems I have no choice, do I?

Good fucking luck sticking to this alleged goodbye... but we both know you’ll be coming back very soon, won’t you? No worries, Anon, I’ll be waiting this time. Let’s see if you can break your 20-ask-streak record next time, shall we? :’)

It’s December 13th, at 2:32 PM, in my location. Let’s see how long it takes you to come back, shall we?

EDIT: I neglected to check constantly so it definitely arrived earlier than this, but officially received a response at least 2 hours after this post went live.

Didn’t I call it? Yep, absolutely called it.

#I need a name for this anon #though I guess stalker-harasser anon would work?#yep #stalker-harasser anon #there we go #honestly it feels so utterly backwards to still talk about this to this day #and yet #it never ends #:')#here we go have this dumpster fire of a post #I'm legit going to time this shit #and report right back to you all #once the stalker-harasser comes back #it's the only genuinely hilarious part of this whole thing after all

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incoherentbabblings · 4 years

Text

Take Back the Cake, Burn the Shoes, and Boil the Rice (4/11)

Within two months there have been two murders of Gotham newlyweds moments after the ceremony. The only connecting factor was both brides wore the same designer’s work. Needing to establish who exactly is behind the crimes, Bruce enlists Tim and Stephanie to have the biggest wedding Gotham high society has seen in decades, putting a target on their heads not just for the killer, but Gotham society too. It goes about as well as you’d expect. Ao3 Link Here!

Tim had no idea there was such a market for wedding planners. He imagined most people planned it themselves. Stephanie had made the very valid point that neither of them had time. Apparently, because she maybe still hated herself a little, she chose possibly the most ridiculous looking woman who came at an equally ridiculous price tag.

“Why’d you choose her?” Tim asked, as the two paced back and forth in one of the drawing rooms of Wayne Manor.

Stephanie was picking a hanging nail. “She had stupid glasses.” She muttered. “Her website screamed ostentatious. That’s what we want right?”

“Well yeah but –”

Alfred opened the door for Mrs van Dijk, and Tim couldn’t help but mutter a curse at the sight of her. Stephanie caught Alfred’s face as he shut the door, to which she noted he seemed quite relieved to be rid of the woman.

Bottle eyed didn’t do it justice. Her glasses seemed an inch thick, and they took up half her face. Humongous brown pupils peered through at Tim as Stephanie very quickly made her way over to him, holding onto his shirt and showing off the ring. Mrs van Dijk’s clothes were seemingly made from rags, and various bits draped across the floor. Her nose was tiny, upturned and pointy. Her teeth were too big for her mouth. She grinned maniacally at the sight of the young couple. She herself somehow looked sixty and thirty at the same time.

Stephanie had picked a winner surely.

“Oh, how happy I am to meet you! I thought for sure I was being pranked when you rang me!” She looked and wandered around the room, utterly fascinated. “And at Wayne Manor no less. I am the luckiest person in the world… Do you mind if I just put my bags here?” The four assorted totes and satchels and rucksacks seemed a bit excessive to Tim, but he nodded, not quite sure what to say. She slapped them down with a delighted squeal.

Nails on a chalkboard. Tim smiled, baring his teeth as they clenched together uncomfortably. Stephanie stepped in, being on the ball for once.

“Thank you for agreeing to help us! And on such short notice too.”

“It’s going to be a rush to get everything done in time.” Tim confirmed.

They all sat down, but then Mrs van Dijk decided she was too far away and stood up. She settled in between Tim and Stephanie, both of whom flinched at having a stranger be so close. They flinched again when she took a hand each and tugged them onto her lap, a little pile of happy hands. Happy sweaty hands. Tim shivered up his spine, and Stephanie’s left leg spasmed at the uncomfortableness of it all.

“I have had a think the past two days.” Van Dijk said earnestly. “You said, Stephanie, you wanted the grandest wedding Wayne money could provide.”

“Yup.”

“I am going to work a little unconventionally. A little traditionally. But you two are the most important clients of my career. I will give you the world.”

“…Thanks.” Tim responded lamely.

“In my thoughts, I see the Cathedral.”

Neither Tim nor Steph were religious.

“I see gold and white.”

Neither were colours they wore nor sought out.

“Carnations for flowers.”

Carnations were for funerals. Tim and Stephanie knew this very well.

“I see the reception here, in the gardens.”

The weather was never good enough to guarantee any event outside.

“And your gown…”

There, Stephanie could not cave in. “I want Rebecca Andrews.”

“Oop! Pardon?” By now word had spread that she was a cursed designer.

“I have my heart set on her you see… Ever since I was younger.”

“…But I… I brought books!” She threw their hands off her lap, Tim rubbing his freed palm against his trousers as the woman fumbled through the tote, tugging out three lever arch files.

“Oh wow… you really prepped for this.”

“I told you! I will give you the world.” And then she sat down, tossing one folder to Tim, and one to Stephanie. Slapping her own open, Mrs van Rijk flipped through pages until she found examples to show Stephanie.

“See? Oh, Mr Wayne wouldn’t you die to see her in this?”

Tim struggled not to swear. “Oh boy.” He said instead.

That seemed too many ruffles for one human body.

Stephanie blinked, and agreed. “No no. I’m sorry, but this is the one area I must put my foot down.”

“…Even though…”

Stephanie smiled reassuringly, and confirmed, “Even though.”

Mrs van Rijk stared at the huge taffeta construction and sighed sadly. “One day I will get a bride in one of these… Nevermind. I will arrange an appointment with Ms Andrews. Funny lady that one.” As she put the folders back, Tim shot Stephanie a look which amounted to kettle meet pot.

Otherwise, they went with whatever this lady suggested. The only thing both Tim and Steph genuinely liked the idea of was a lemon cake rather than a fruit cake. They told themselves that because it maybe wasn’t even going to reach the altar, what they wanted didn’t really matter. Details were details. What mattered was ensuring they were a target.

Stephanie proceeded to go on a coffee date with Cassandra, who gave the evils in her characteristic manner to anyone creeping to close, and a trip to the arcade with Damian, who grumbled and pretended to shoot a photographer with one of the guns for a zombie shooting game, until Stephanie called him over with the food she had bought him. Tim uploaded an old photograph of them when they were fifteen to his social media pages. Bruce mysteriously went to visit Crystal’s hospital when she was on shift, ensuring that she was seen chatting the Mr Wayne. The picture that went in the news was not the most flattering of Mrs Brown – her expression was nothing short of mystified and in awe that Gotham’s favourite child was talking to her – but it served the same goal as the other outings.

The family was doing everything they could to prove that Stephanie was not just someone out of the blue who had stepped into the role of fiancée for Tim. She was a Gotham girl through and through, her mother worked an admirable job, she was known by the family and spent time with them independent of Tim…Older photos began to be circulated. Old school photos when they both attended Gotham Heights were circulated, as was the fact that she was a student in her final year of Gotham College who volunteered at the clinic on Park Row, just around the corner from Tim’s social housing redevelopment project.

Don’t think of this girl as an upstart, they were practically begging, she’d been a part of Tim and Cassandra and Damian and Bruce’s lives long before anyone cared. Tim, who actually braved reading comments and replies, noted that, for the most part…well they weren’t flat out insulting her. Or him.

For the most part.

That counted for a lot.

Though some of them…

Thankfully Bruce and Dick over many years had cultivated a stock image of a slightly batshit (hah) bonkers family that only seemed to grow with the years in equally odd members. Off kilter, sure, but overall a good family. Thank goodness for Gotham stereotypes.

Next step in becoming a target – an engagement photo shoot.

Tim was not even aware these were a thing, but found himself standing in a full suit a mere three days later. Images to be posted amongst societies circles and to be sent with rsvp invitations. This had been it’s own conflict. None of their superhero friends has been invited, but indeed to everyone, this was for real. Tim had ignored the Titans for days at this point, unable to explain what was going on. There was no pithy explanation.

He had been given a black tux, a dark red suit, a navy shirt and chinos, and a pot of hair gel to style himself. Stephanie, meanwhile, was upstairs, with a veritable army of beauticians, hairdressers and too many dresses to count.

It was raining, because of course it was. But the photography studio had insisted on going forward in the manor gardens.

“We can make it look real Austen and shit.”

Tim really didn’t understand the man’s reference. Said man was holding a camera with a very large lens that Tim suspected wasn’t necessary for this kind of shoot. He had sunglasses on, despite the weather, so Tim knew he was very cool. The four assistants who had been with Stephanie trotted down the stairs, moving quickly to set up lighting. All four looked a little dissapointed, but whatever reason Tim didn't understand.

"Okay?" He asked.

One got in Tim’s face and began fixing his hair. He instinctively flinched away from a stranger in his personal space, but quickly smiled apologetically and allowed her to resume. His gut churned from enduring the uncomfortable closeness.

"It's fine. We just... she's been hurt quite bad hasn't she?"

Tim flinched completely away. It seemed the look in his eyes was enough to make the lady look to the floor, and find something else to work on. Tim's protectiveness was flaring, and he knew it was making others uncomfortable. But he also doubted it was as uncomfortable as Stephanie was having strangers examine her body like that.

“Am I okay to come down now?” Stephanie’s voice drifted in from the top of the staircase, providing a welcome distraction.

The man (Tim couldn’t for the life of him remember the name) immediately became effusive.

“Of course, princess! Let’s see you. You’re in the red dress, right?”

“…Yeah.”

She poked her head around the corner and stared at Tim. She sighed sharply at how handsome he looked. “I’m sorry.” She shook her head. “Can I hold onto you walking down? It’s a lot of skirt…”

Tim didn’t care that she was blatantly lying. He hopped up to the top step, holding out his hand for her to take. When she did take, still half hidden behind the wall, Tim felt her trembling. He looked at her inquisitively.

“My scars…” Was all she could say. She was bent over, blonde hair curled to look like Sleeping Beauty’s. The assistants who had done her hair had made the decision to have it all down in order to hide her upper back, shoulders, collar and arms. She was wearing flowers in her hair, and her makeup made her look otherworldly. Tim realised it was all to draw attention upwards, away from her torso.

Tim squeezed her fingers. Stephanie as a rule did not show skin... not since Black Mask.

“You wore that purple dress, remember? The one I got you? That showed more skin.” He tried to remind her, so she could logic her way up to being confident in the beautiful dresses.

She only shook her head, and he could see her eyes growing frenetic with an increasing panic.

“No-one was paying attention, not like this. People are going to see me.”

He stepped closer, creating a bubble around them that made Steph’s breathing quieten, and her back straightened. Saying she was beautiful wasn’t going to work. Some of her scars, little that he had seen, were not beautiful. He wouldn’t lie to himself and say they were. Stephanie was beautiful; the injuries, the torn skin, the white shiny scars, the mangled puckered wounds… there was no beauty in the experiences that created them. No amount of sweet talking would convince her nor the world of it. But that didn’t mean she was lesser for it. Not even close. He stared straight into her eyes, praying he looked reassuring.

“It’s okay.”

She nodded, and gently, encouragingly, he tugged her forward into the viewpoint of the photography team. It was a strapless crimson gown, with a sweetheart neckline and a large wide skirt that made her waist tiny. The photographer hissed. She looked lovely, but some scars shined in the artificial light. It was going to make tidying up the images awkward.

“Oh.” He stated. Stephanie immediately hid behind Tim, feeling humiliated. “Do we want to hide these in post? Or are we drawing...”

Tim glared in an intensely threatening manner, and the man coughed, correcting himself.

“Doesn’t matter. You both look like royalty. Every time I do one of these shoots… but this must be one of the best.”

His team twittered like little birds in agreement. Stephanie struggled not to roll her eyes at the weak save.

Shots were taken of them walking down the stairs, though Stephanie did manage to trip of the final step, crumpling in a heap on the floor. The man had ensured she was okay, then demanded she remain there. Tim was forced to sit behind her, two or three steps up.

“Fix her hair and dress.” The man commanded. Immediately her position was altered, and her hair was pulled to cover certain patches of skin. Her breathing wobbled.

She wasn’t good enough.

A little off put by having so many people fuss over her, Stephanie reached upwards. Tim gave her his hand, and then quickly, unthinkingly, pressed a kiss to the back of her head. He watched as goosebumps trailed up her back, and he cursed himself a little for even attempting to comfort her.

“Oh!” Shouted the man. “Hold that. Her ring looks good.”

There were four outfits and locations in total – the strapless red gown for Tim’s black tux in the main staircase being the first. For the Thomas Wayne’s library Stephanie perched herself on a leather loveseat armrest, sitting awkwardly and slightly off to the side in her insecurity. Tim had his bowtie removed and three buttons undone, to which he promptly redid one. Stephanie was changed into an off the shoulder green dress with sleeves that split open to expose her arms and hit the floor. The gown had such a deep neckline that Tim’s eyes were drawn to a white scar that went up her sternum. She caught him looking and hissed like an angry cat, unsure if he was staring at her chest or the wound. The golden gown, the one that looked like rays of sun, for the shots in the conservatory was beautiful, but again, Tim could see she was growing increasingly uncomfortable with both the attention and exposure. Repeatedly for couple shots she would start to migrate behind Tim, half hidden away until called out and forced forward. Tim found he couldn’t say anything in front of the photography crew to comfort her. He kept some part of himself connected to her, hoping the touch would ground her. Obviously this was not an option for the solo shots.

She seemed much happier with the final dress. A shorter purple dress with feathers all along the hem. It had a high neck and long sleeves. Tim couldn’t help it, he laughed as she brushed through the bird feathers. She shivered in her bare legs though and begged to put on a pair of tights. The man narrowed his eyes, or at least Tim thought he did behind those glasses, but agreed.

“Some posed shots.” He said, staring down into his viewfinder. “Then go frolic outside.”

“Frolic?” Stephanie raised on eyebrow, and Tim mirrored it.

“Outside?”

Tim took off his blazer as he and Stephanie questioned the photographer in between snaps being taken. Steph grabbed a hold of Tim’s shoulder to balance as she zipped up a boot. The rain was coming down as hard as ever.

“Yes. We need some natural shots.”

His assistant opened the double window doors, cold air blasting its way in. Rainwater dripped inside, and Tim shuddered at the fit Alfred would have. The water crept dangerously close to one of the rugs, and even Stephanie made a panicked oomph noise, and she rushed out front into the pouring rain, hoping that the quicker this round was done the sooner these people would pack up and leave and she could return to flat shoes. Her heels were starting to ache to the point of distraction.

Tim rushed out after her, resisting the urge to yell at the frigid water which immediately soaked him to the bone. Stephanie looked back at him, her dress clinging in all the right ways, hair a sodden blanket. She was laughing from the shock of how cold it was.

“I can’t believe you agreed to this?” He yelled over the sound of the rain hitting the paving stones. Stephanie just laughed and held out her arms for him to step into. Her makeup was starting to run, but rather than making her look like a drowned rat, she looked lively and bright. Her face flushed red from the cold, and Tim willingly went straight into her hold.

She brushed his wet hair out of his eyes, grinning at the face she saw underneath. Still so pale, with such dark bruises under his eyes. Still not sleeping well. But he was happy, at least for the moment. She didn’t want her moodiness ruin that for him.

Stephanie couldn’t get that moment of the kiss to her hair out of her mind, nor could Tim stop thinking about the declaration of love and kiss on the lips she had given him last week. They were stumbling in the dark, seeking physical comfort in each other, and both knew how dangerous it was. Simultaneously, and without mentioning it to the other, they resolved to corner the other. Soon.

Until then, when the photographer called for them to kiss, it was Stephanie who cradled Tim’s face and pulled him close. It was the kind of kiss that they made when they were adolescents: enthusiastic, clumsy, but infatuated. Stephanie tried to convince herself that it was just another kiss for the job, like the ones one their dates and engagement dinners, but as always the sharp stab of enjoyment that came with Tim’s smiling kisses made her shiver and doubt. She squished his cheeks and laughed when they broke apart, and when she tried to leave Tim’s hold and playfully pulled her back around her waist, tossing out further into the rain so he could run inside before her.

She collapsed in, ankles a little wobbly, grimacing at the water they had allowed into the room. Tim shut the windows and huffed.

“Perfect.”

Remembering they had been watched, the redness in Stephanie’s skin vanished, and she resumed staring at her feet, shuffling backwards behind Tim.

Hair dripping wet, and conscious that the pair might catch a cold, Tim tried to be genial when he asked if they were done. The man bared his teeth and he flipped through the images. He didn’t look totally satisfied.

“I don’t know… Can we go for some more artsy stuff? You guys got a ballroom, right? You two are such a good pair…I just want some more to play around with.”

Stephanie stumbled in her shoes, growing more tired by the moment. Tim began to shiver. One of the assistants not so subtly nudged the man, letting him now his time was up.

Bruce in one his blessed moments of good timing, had at some point begun watching through the open door to the drawing room, seemed to realise that Tim and Steph had also had enough.

“Thank you, Mr Hare, but I’m going to have to ask you to wrap up. Let my kids dry up.”

Being referred to one of Bruce’s own made Stephanie stare in open shock, whilst Tim looked gratefully at him, giving a small smile.

“Oh.” Said Mr Hare – Tim tried to not feel guilty at not knowing his name for the entire shoot – and finally he took the hint. “No worries. This was a good session! Listen, I’ll send them when their done to van Rijk. She’s a beast, will probably want them tomorrow if I know her.”

Bruce smiled politely and indicated for Alfred to begin showing them out.

Tim’s shivering had grown worse, and Stephanie noticing this, rushed to one of the sofas which had a cream throw resting over the back to cradle Tim within.

“Rub your chest if it’s gets unbearable.” She uttered, “That’s where all the important bits are.”

Tim smiled, teeth chattering. “Minus a spleen.”

“Huh?” She looked at him, confused.

“I… Oh. I never told you?”

She tilted her head, gears turning ever so slowly in her head. “That you don’t have a spleen? Tim! You’ll get sicker easier and worse!”

She managed to kick off her shoes and moved in closer, tugging the throw around them both. With the assistants out of the room, Tim grew somewhat warmer knowing she was being genuinely caring in this moment.

“How long ago?” She asked, shifting so she could keep them both somewhat warm.

“Um…” Tim looked at Bruce helping Alfred escort the team of the estate. “When I first went looking for him. Got stabbed.”

Her breath warmed his neck, and her fingers drifted down to where his scar was. She cooed when he twitched as if her touch hurt him, but to Tim it felt like a bolt of electricity had passed straight down his spine. He told himself it was because of the static from the rain and humidity.

Bruce watched the group begin to pack up, both ensuring they had left with all their equipment but also listening to their conversation, trying to not to smile.

“I think…” He interrupted, and the pair jolted at the reminder that someone else was in sight of them. “You both should shower up. Then a quick word with you both.”

Stephanie was the first to break away.

“Can I use Cass’ room?”

“We have a spare room if you want it. We have loads of spare rooms.” Tim hinted.

Steph didn’t take the hint. “Cass’ is fine.”

Bruce, however, did hear the hint, and in a rare moment of paternal ingenuity, decided to throw a little bomb into the mix.

“When is Stephanie moving into your apartment, Tim?”

Stephanie, who had no idea such an idea was on offer, gulped. Tim, also appeared a little thrown.

“I… I…”

“I’ve never even been to your apartment.”

“Well, there’s your chance.” Bruce said. “Now hurry up, before Alfred sees the state of the floors.”

Bruce’s edict was law, and reluctantly Crystal agreed for Stephanie to move out.

When it came to moving in with Tim, Stephanie was surprised how easy it was. She really didn’t own that much stuff to begin with, and Tim had a lot of spare space.

Tim’s apartment, based in Park Row no less, was large, and took up two floors. He seemed awful proud of it. Steph didn’t miss the piano sat in the corner but chose not to comment.

“One of your projects?”

Tim huffed, thinking she was diminishing his efforts with Park Row. He was lifting her suitcases up the stairs. “Well, the redevelopment is as good as I make it… And I live here… so you know, I stand by it being good.”

“Hmm.” She set one of four boxes on the couch. Hard and square, it didn’t lend itself to resting and relaxing. Tim had probably chosen it for the aesthetics more than anything, and was likely cursing himself that he had offered to sleep on it whilst Stephanie took his own bed. Glaring at the obnoxious chandelier which hung down from the open space of the ceiling of the first floor down to just above their heads on the first, she hummed to herself.

“These aren’t…I…”

Tim waited patiently at the top of the steps for her to finish.

“How did you make sure you haven't just gentrified the area?”

Tim put down her suitcases, practically skipping down the steps to get to her level, a little put off with her question. “You worried I kicked poor people out of Crime Alley?”

Stephanie blushed, and defended herself. “Not intentionally.”

“No. Not intentionally. Not unintentionally either.” He scoffed, but before he could turn way, Stephanie halted him.

“How then?”

Tim couldn’t hear the sincerity in her tone, instead he heard patronising accusations. His temper flared unexpectedly. She still could rile him up like no other. “You care?”

As could he to her, apparently. Her blush turned to a flush of red anger, and her defensiveness became aggressive.

“What kind of question is that? Do I care about your job? The unprivileged? Gotham in general?” She waved her hands. “Nevermind. Not if you’re gonna take everything like an attack.”

With a whirl that smacked Tim in the face with her long ponytail, he flinched back and watched her drag another box in. It was too heavy for one person, and she was going to hurt her back in her stubbornness.

“Steph, let me help.”

“I’m fine.”

“Steph –”

“You don’t always need to be so –”

“You know you can accept help from –”

The pair trailed off, both bent awkwardly over a box, glaring at each other. Stephanie was the first to break, groaning in a tantrum and stomping up the steps. She looked down over the railing to Tim looking up at her.

“You honestly don’t have a spare room?”

“No. The other room is an office and a bathroom. It’s just for a few more weeks… I made space in my closet for you.”

“Thanks. Real generous there, Timbo.”

Her sarcasm was biting, and Tim felt the childish urge to stick his tongue out at her. She vanished from sight though, rolling her clothes through to his bedroom. Kicking the box at his feet, his eyes widened in shock at how heavy was, and he stumbled away.

“What she got in here… boulders?”

Dragging it into the hallway, Tim popped outside to see Crystal driving away, the two remaining boxes left at the foot of the steps to the door. They were lighter than the box of bricks, and once they were inside Tim shut the front door. Stephanie was still upstairs, so was likely unpacking her clothes.

Opening the heavy box in some grim determination to be vindicated in its contents, he was instead met with a box filled with stuffed soft toys.

She still held onto them? At the top of was a somewhat familiar teddy bear. She had held onto it and smacked him with it playfully on occasion. When he had visited her to tell her he was having to leave Gotham… when she was pregnant, when she didn’t know his name or anything about his parents or who was behind that mask… all she had known was this boy had – for some unknown reason – chosen to stay with her, to spend time with her. She had taken a lot of convincing over two years it was because Tim genuinely loved her, and it wasn’t out of some Bat driven duty to be kind to those weaker than you. By the time she believed it herself, she had seen Tim kissing someone (someone who she now knew he didn’t want to be kissed by) and everything had gone down the crapper. Seeing that stuffed bear affected him more than he expected.

Resting under it was the duck he had won her the other week. Its silly face peering out from under the other toys made him laugh despite his tense mood.

He picked up both toys and walked up the stairs. In his room, Steph was piling her shoes into a corner of the closet. Tim set the duck down on a table that rested at the foot of his bed.

“You kept this?” Tim asked, waving the teddy.

Stephanie gasped, clumsily pulling herself off the floor, and reached out to take it. Tim snatched it back.

“Give it.” She cried.

“Did you seriously bring everything? I could have helped you pack. Even the toys.”

She seemed increasingly upset, when Tim was only trying to tease. “I’m serious Tim, give it.”

He didn’t give way, so in her frustration, she shoved him. Hard. No damage was done, but the look of horror on her face at becoming physical like that with him made Tim’s stomach drop more than anything.

Her face turned white and she begged, “Sorry. I’m sorry.”

Tim really didn’t know what to do with her constant mood swings, so awkwardly returned her bear to her. She nearly ripped it out of his hands and cradled it reverently.

“It’s fine. I shouldn’t have made fun of you. I just thought it was sweet, that you held onto this stuff.”

In her hands, Stephanie looked down at the bear. When she spoke, it was near a whisper.

“My dad bought it for me.”

“He did?”

“Mmm. When he was… when he was trying to be better.” Her look grew angry then. “I don’t know why I keep it.”

Without thinking, she plopped on her bed, staring at nothing. Tim realised he needed to intervene, and quick. He sat next to her and took one of her hands in both of his.

“We need to talk, I think.”

Dropping the bear, her other hand joined the three. Tim tried not to shiver at the warmth. “Me too.”

“Let’s get the rest of your stuff in, yeah? Is it all for upstairs?”

“I have some photo albums. And a couple of things for the kitchen. Figured you didn’t cook much.”

“Not really.”

She pulled their pile of hands into her lap, her look growing softer by the moment.

“Then I’ll cook tonight? First meal in a new place. Be a good wifey and all that.”

Tim tried not to imagine Stephanie with rollers in her hair, red lips and a frilly apron holding an apple pie. He failed. “Can’t comment on the contents of my fridge.”

“That’s okay.” She stood up, wandering down to the yellow duck. She pinched its orange beak. “Tim?”

“Mm?”

“I am genuinely interested in your work. I’m not being accusatory about that.”

“Thank you, Steph.”

She smiled, but it was sad.

With one box filled with stuffed toys, it truly didn’t take long for Tim to help her move the rest of her stuff into his room. Photos proceeded to take up free surface space, and Tim’s bathroom quickly became filled with so many items for the bath that his mind drifted to the idea of Stephanie. In his tub. In his apartment. He burned red for the rest of the afternoon, his brain not allowing him to let go of her soaking in bubbles.

There was one that smelled like cola candy that he liked, but it was at that point he decided he was being creepy, and wandered back downstairs, to find his fiancée’s head rammed in the fridge.

“Alright there?”

“Garlic…red onion… half a pepper…” Her muffled voice was amused. “Butter… cheese… milk.” She shut the door, hands full of everything except the milk. “Pretty standard student fridge contents huh?”

“I’m not a student.”

“Nah, but you have twenty-year-old brain anyway. We’re all messes.” She looked at the ingredients in her arms. “I can do something with this. You good a stirring?”

“I have movement in my wrists.”

She smiled. “Then grab me a knife, cutting board, pot and frying pan?” When he did, she jerked her head over to the sink. “Fill the pot three quarters up and throw a chunk of salt in. When it boils – two mugs of pasta and stir.”

It was a simple quick dish, but she gave Tim enough instructions to make him feel like he somewhat contributed to the food that she made. Sitting with her at the counter, watching her pile cheese higher and higher into her bowl, made him feel content in a manner he didn’t feel often in his home.

When they were finished, Tim stared into his empty bowl gathering the courage to say,

“We should talk.”

Stephanie beat him to it. Tim picked up the dishes, hand shaking a little.

“I’ll wash up.”

She reached out, fingers wrapping around his wrist gently. If he wanted, he could pull away without being violent, but he held still. Steph looked at him, trying to make him understand.

“It can wait a little bit.”

She was right, but Tim couldn’t shake his nerves. He set the bowls down, then sat back on the stool.

Stephanie’s hand shifted, and then suddenly they were interlocking fingers.

“Tim…” She began, and she was unable to look at him as much as he for her. “How much of this is real for you?”

Tim had told Dick he had wanted her to start the conversation, for her to lead the way, but now when it was happening, Tim moved from nervous to frightened.

“What do you mean?”

The look Steph gave Tim from the corner of her eye was indescribable, but the closest Tim got to giving it a name was pity.

“Do you want to be with me?”

“Do you?”

Deflecting like a wimp. Avoiding conflict. Tim tried to convince himself it was because Stephanie had to be the one to tell him. The moment she was decisive, so would he.

Instead she sighed like she didn’t know what to say. They were still holding hands. Tim began to breathe shallowly.

“Please, Steph. It’s fine if you don’t.”

There was his admission. She knew, she’d always known. But somehow, she had found the talent of laying her cards close to her chest, and he hated it.

“It’s not that.”

Not a denial. Not really an admission either.

“What is it?”

“It’s everyone else. Like, I’ve been getting all these messages all the time from people I haven’t spoken to in ages but then Kara keeps messaging me asking what’s going on. Why I didn’t tell her? Why are her and Conner not invited? But I can’t… I can’t lie to our loved ones about you.”

“Because you…don’t love me. And you don’t want to lie to the people we love that you do.”

He felt hollowed out. He felt like he was hurting her. But she had agreed to this. She didn’t have to. He had given her a way out. So what? She was being a martyr?

“No…No Tim.”

And suddenly Tim could breathe again.

“But don’t you get it? Even if I wanted… we are lying to everyone. How can anything good come from a lie? Especially for us. Where has us lying with each other ever done us any good?”

Oh. She thought they were repeating old bad patterns.

“I’m not lying to you.” He said, trying to reassure her. Not once since this whole thing had begun.

“And that’s all that matters?”

“It should. We’re the ones in this…relationship…so that’s all that counts.”

She sighed patiently, like she was explaining something to a child. “Tim, we don’t live in a bubble.”

Tim ignored it, and shamelessly began to beg. His patience had run out. It felt like he was pulling wisdom teeth, that’s how closed off she was being.

“Stephanie. Steph, please. You can’t say it’s a lie when I’ve done nothing but be honest with you. You have to tell me the truth.”

“About what?”

“You said you loved me at dinner.”

“I did.”

“Do you?”

“Of course, I do.”

Tim did not feel any lighter with the admission, nor did Steph look happy to say it.

“When this is over, do you want to be with me? For real? Like I do for you?”

Finally, finally, they looked each other in the eye.

“I don’t know.” Her voice was wet, quiet, and strained, like she was on the urge of crying. She didn’t even sound sure of her uncertainty. Maybe Tim was completely delusional, but he sensed that for all her talks of wanting the truth, she didn’t know what to do with it when it was staring her right in the face.

She was still frightened, and Tim knew it was from every piece of negative and positive attention being flung there way. Like Tim, Stephanie just wanted to be left alone. Unlike Tim, she couldn’t cope with the attention. And he didn’t know how to help her.

She then got up from the table, picking up their bowls to do the washing up. She had gotten what she wanted from the conversation. Tim was being earnest, like he always was. Tim still loved her, like he always had. Tim wanted a real relationship with her, like he had always wanted.

And she had only given him mixed signals in return. Self-loathing bubbled in her gut, which only served to fuel her seemingly growing self-esteem issues. Her anger spiked.

And she’d tried so hard to get over her adolescent insecurities too…

Patrol was waiting, after which Stephanie would spend the night with Cass at the manor, and Tim would return to his apartment, staring at the empty space in his large bed.

Neither slept that night.

#tim drake #stephanie brown #dc #timsteph #my fic tag

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bigskydreaming · 5 years

Text

Okay so I freely admit this is way long even by my standards, lol, but like, obviously I didn’t have a ton of time to like...think about superhero stuff, lmao, but that didn’t mean I didn’t still have Very Important Thoughts, so I kept adding them throughout the week and then I woke up and was like oh hey, actually this is done. And also, oh hey, that shit added up fast. Whoops. C’est la vie. Such is me.

ANYWAY. Here. I give you a Mega Meta. A Master Meta. A...shut up, me.

Okay. So.

Thing is, to be perfectly clear....the problem many of us have is not with people writing Dick getting angry. Nobody’s saying he never gets angry, nobody’s saying you should never write him losing his temper.

The problem lies in so rarely writing Dick’s anger as sympathetic.

Meanwhile, you have Jason punching him left and right in fics without ever apologizing or with readers even expecting him to or saying he should...because he has issues. Hell, almost every fic I can think of off the top of my head where Jason punches Dick for some reason, even when Dick didn’t actually do anything wrong or Jason jumped to conclusions...Dick ends up apologizing to him, more often than the other way around. He sheepishly volunteers that he probably deserved it. That’s. That’s not good, guys. And then we have Tim holding a grudge for years and finally erupting at Dick, with people cheering in the comments, validating it, validating Tim.

Or we have Bruce being cold and dismissive in order to protect himself and his own feelings, but that’s just Bruce, people say, sighing as if exasperated with the character for doing the things that he only does because he’s written doing them. Because people have long since accepted seeing Bruce engaging in this kind of behavior with his kids, and more often that not...again, with Bruce they validate this behavior instead of calling it a flaw that needs fixing or needs spotlights shone on it. They don’t condone it, necessarily, but they accept that its just who he is, that its integral to him, that to change that would be to fundamentally change him, and thus, its not even so much a flaw at this point as just a fundamental touchstone of his character. That’s just how he is.

So again...its not that we think its out of character to write Dick being angry or losing his temper or yelling at someone. Its that his anger is almost universally treated as a flaw, specifically, instead of ever being framed as a merited reaction to something fucked up.

Whereas everybody else consistently has extenuating circumstances or explanations or justifications or bigger issues or whatever, any time they lose their temper in fics. When Jason, Tim, Bruce, Babs, Steph laying into Dick because he did this or that or didn’t do this or that, all of this is fine with everyone in the comments, its deserved, oh sure it sucks that the other characters had to be so blunt but the truth bombs needed to be dropped about Dick’s bad behavior or whatever, etc, etc....

But turn back to the vast majority of fics that make a point to write Dick getting angry or losing his cool at someone...and Dick’s anger at a friend of member of his family, by comparison, is practically never upheld as justifiable, understandable, sympathetic. Instead its more commonly framed within the narrative and agreed with in the comments, that it was simply him being selfish or self-centered, inconsiderate or spoiled or short-sighted or hypocritical.

Disregarding stories where Dick has no real storyline of his own, the ones where he’s there to support and further the plots and emotional arcs of his family....that aside from those, in stories or even just in scenes where Dick takes center stage, where he and his conflicts are front and center.....

Is it wildly inaccurate to say that except for fics that are clearly written by authors who are Dick stans first and foremost, that in a sizable majority of other fics, just about the only time you will see Dick portrayed as truly sympathetic....is when he’s inarguably a victim, specifically spelled out and acknowledged as such by the other characters themselves? In Tarantula or Mirage fics, injury or illness fics or ones where he’s been tortured, Court of Owl fics or ones where he’s been targeted by Deathstroke or adapts the Apprentice arc from TT...

That the only time a large part of fandom actually sympathizes with Dick, is when the narrative clearly and undeniably centers him as a victim in need of comfort and support, almost always from some external threat outside the family (with the exception of Bad Dad Bruce Wayne fics as well, to be fair).

Whump fics or when he’s being tortured or is sick or injured....often specifically scenarios in which he has very little agency of his own and his siblings and/or Bruce are stepping up to protect him. Which in theory is great. But in reality, it highlights the fact that the only time Dick securely has readers’ sympathy, is when everyone or most everyone in the fic has already offered it to him first.

Any other time though? Dick’s reactions to things are hardly ever framed as sympathetic, understandable. Not when the conflict is with other main characters. He’s always too extreme, too over the top, too heedless of how his words and actions affect others. He’s always described in comments in ways like “I understand Dick being upset here, but he went way too far” and even when he did absolutely nothing to incite a conflict and merely reacted to what other people did first, somehow it ends up being “well both of them are in the wrong, if Dick would just stop fighting”....again...even when he was the one in the conflict who undeniably had less agency, less power, less initiative, and thus him ‘stopping the fight’ is actually more accurately described as letting whatever was done go, so they can all make nice, even though he’s the only one who actually has to compromise.

In comparison, would Jason fans be comfortable with the argument that if Jason would simply stop fighting with Bruce, he could come home and they’d all get along fine? Would Tim fans be comfortable with the stance that if Tim would simply come back to Gotham during the events of Red Robin and make peace with Dick, they could be a united front and be all the stronger for it?

Or would the response to those takes be hell no, because Jason is RIGHT to stand by his convictions, to stand up for himself against Bruce? That Tim is RIGHT to stay absent from Gotham and keep ignoring Dick’s attempts to reach out to him, because anything else would just be letting Dick off the hook and he doesn’t deserve to have it that easy after what he did?

Meanwhile.....even in narratives where the take being used is that Bruce unequivocally fired Dick, forbid him from being Robin...its Dick who’s being stubborn and selfish for not forgiving Bruce, even though Bruce hasn’t actually put forth any actual effort to apologize or acknowledge what he did to hurt Dick or ask how he could make it better.

Because also, the other factor in all this...Dick’s never just allowed to exist for himself. Because there’s always someone else who needs him, who by extension is being hurt and neglected by Dick’s focus on his own conflict and holding out for the conclusion to it that he secretly hopes for, the one where the other person apologizes and puts effort into fixing things. With it thus being deemed that the longer Dick’s conflict with someone else lasts, and keeps him from helping whomever else needs his attention, the more Dick is actually the one hurting that other person, by refusing to simply cave and settle and let go of his hurt.

And when his conflict is with Bruce, notorious for never budging on things, the implicit understanding is Bruce is never going to be the one to cave, so Dick is never going to get the resolution he really wants, and thus trying to insist on it anyway, at the expense of not focusing his attention on that third party and prioritizing their needs....well, this, ultimately, becomes viewed as Dick being selfish. Because he’s insisting on holding out for something nobody believes will actually happen, and thus he’s just being stubborn and heedless of how his stubbornness is impacting others.

So even when Bruce was the instigator of a conflict, when Dick was staying away with reason, because he was hurt, because he shouldn’t have to be the one to make things right......

Suddenly, the frame shifts, in ways it never does with other characters. Well, forget about Bruce for a second, readers argue. Because Dick’s still being selfish, see, because what about Jason? Maybe the fight was Bruce’s fault, maybe he did do something wrong, but Dick was still wrong for not putting Jason first, centering him, even though at the time Dick was a nineteen, twenty year old with his own life to live and no actual obligation to the boy his father figure took in all while making no effort to repair the damage he’d caused in his relationship with Dick. Instead just dedicating himself to being ideal for Jason, who got the adoption Dick had long wanted, the name and mantle that he created and Bruce treated like it was his to give and take...

No, none of that was ever Jason’s fault, and he definitely shouldn’t have been targeted or penalized by Dick for any of that. But the thing is, he wasn’t. All that is wholly a fanon creation. While meanwhile, by the same token, it was never Dick’s responsibility to buck up and get over his own hurt for the sake of someone who was at the time a complete stranger to him and who had no real connection to him yet, because it was Bruce’s responsibility to make a case for that connection existing. Because Bruce was the only connection between them at that point. Bruce was the reason there was any possible tie between Dick and Jason at all....but at the same time, Bruce was also the reason for Dick’s unwillingness to simply return to Gotham and play one big happy family. Because Bruce had fucked up, Bruce had overstepped and hurt him, but showed no willingness to actually take responsibility for that, and take any actual steps to fix what had been broken by his own actions and stubbornness.

I mean, when Bruce took Jason in...Dick literally had NO ties left to Bruce at that point. His wardship dissolved at eighteen, Bruce held no legal responsibilities towards him, nor legally established bonds...Dick wasn’t living at the Manor anymore, hadn’t in a long time. He lived with the Titans, his teammates that Bruce had never truly approved of...as far as he could tell, he had no real presence in Bruce’s life anymore....and then Bruce takes in this new kid, adopts him, full legal ties for life, no aging out at eighteen...makes him Robin, gives away Dick’s mantle that he took from Dick in the first place when it was never his right to do so...fire him as his partner sure, but take away the mantle, specifically? No.

So here’s Dick, having gotten reluctantly used to Bruce, his father figure, being pretty much a non-entity in his life by this point...and then Bruce goes and gives every possible sign of recognition and family and WANT to this new kid...thereby establishing that he wasn’t just emotionally incapable of making those declarations, he wasn’t just utterly unwilling to ink permanent, undeniable bonds of family because of his own issues surrounding his parents’ death....

He just, for reasons born of thought processes Dick wasn’t privy to due to Bruce making no effort to contact him since their fight either...as far as Dick could tell, he just showed no interest in putting forth any kind of similar effort in Dick’s direction. In reconnecting with Dick, or establishing in the kinds of ways he’d quickly volunteered to establish with this shiny new kid, that he did in fact still want Dick in his life, in his family. That no matter the current lack of legal ties between them, he wanted to say or indicate otherwise now, change that, the way he had with Jason. To make clear that even though he was no longer obligated to Dick in any way, bound to him, he still wanted to be.

And I mean, its not like its impossible to see or consider Bruce’s headspace at the time. I believe in all likelihood, Bruce’s unwillingness or hesitation to reach out to Dick and try and rebuild their relationship was essentially just a fear of rejection. That he was afraid he could give it his all, dedicate everything to trying to fix what he’d fucked up...but Dick would reject it, reject him, and say it wasn’t good enough, or it was too late...because that was Bruce’s own assessment of things. That deep down, he didn’t believe Dick would be willing to work things out, to try, that he would ever truly forgive him, because Bruce didn’t believe he SHOULD be forgiven.

I think Bruce absolutely came to regret everything he’d said and done, and realized too late just how badly he’d hurt Dick....and while I’m never shy about expressing I believe Bruce has major entitlement issues...his guilt complex is equally vast. I do think that often times Bruce’s refusal to apologize or express remorse is a stubborn insistence that he made the right choice or that at the time, his choice was valid...but I also think that just as often, Bruce’s unwillingness to apologize for hurt he caused a loved one comes from the sheer depth of his guilt, and the self-loathing that accompanies his awareness of the hurt he himself caused. He doesn’t apologize not because he isn’t sorry, but because he believes no apology could ever be good enough to make it right, that he could never truly be forgiven because what he did didn’t deserve forgiveness. And in the process, he so often makes that lack of forgiveness a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Because understanding that headspace of course does not actually absolve Bruce of anything. His feelings of remorse mean jack shit if he kept them bottled up inside instead of ever expressing them to Dick, the person who needed to see them, who needed a reason to believe Bruce knew how he’d hurt him and was sorry and wanted a chance to rebuild a relationship and vow to never repeat the same mistake. All the guilt, self-loathing and remorse in the world, if not turned into actual words or actions...does nothing to move the needle on the responsibility that was still Bruce and Bruce’s alone, to account for his own actions, his own choices, that affected both Dick and Jason in ways they had no equivalent power to re-order everyone’s lives with their own choices, as Bruce’s heavy handed edicts resulted in.

And yet...people constantly insist that Dick was selfish back then for not stepping up and doing MORE than he already did with Jason, because he was mad at Bruce....as though it was some silly little spat he should have long since gotten over, rather than because the heart of the entire issue lay in Bruce’s ability to demonstrate he could still be for Jason the kind of father he once was for Dick....but had seemingly decided to just abandon all effort to reach out and try and rebuild the connection with Dick that he was at the very same time quite happy to build with Jason.

So even when its all but impossible to frame a specific conflict between Dick and someone else as being Dick’s fault....people simply shift the ENTIRE CONFLICT to a new angle wherein Dick is still managing to be selfish, for not adequately performing the role and tasks their father should be taking it upon himself to do....since ALL OF THIS, his fight with Dick, his willingness to let their estrangement last as long as it did with no effort to even ask Dick to come home, to express that he wanted Dick to...and then his taking in Jason, adopting him, making him Robin...

EVERY SINGLE CHOICE IN ALL OF THAT WAS BRUCE’S. THE POWER, THE AGENCY, THE DECISION MAKING, THE CAUSES THAT RESULTED IN EFFECTS...THEY WERE ALL BRUCE’S AND NO ONE ELSE’S.

And yet somehow, Dick gets stuck with half the blame, half the responsibility. All while skipping straight over his own hurt and the repercussions of him being the one most directly and negatively impacted by Bruce’s choices and their inevitable ripple effect on his life. Disregarding the fact that he was FAR more wounded by his conflict with Bruce than Jason was by proximity to said conflict...and instead refocusing all that sympathy straight on Jason, for being the target of Dick’s resentment at being replaced. An angle that had to be wholly created by fanon in the first place, since that wasn’t how Dick actually treated him in canon.

Dick gets cut entirely out of the middle in order to allow most reader sympathy to miss him completely...and somehow at the same time he gets pasted back into the frame parallel to Bruce, where he’s thus regarded as equally at fault, equally stubborn. Yet the reality remains that at no point did Dick ever have equal the power Bruce had when unilaterally making the choices that affected both Dick and Jason. Dick’s only real power lay in whether or not he settled for burying his grievances without any actual apology from Bruce, or an attempt by Bruce to take the initiative in repairing their relationship.

People levy undeserved responsibility onto Dick’s shoulders in all of that, most likely to make up for the parts of all that mess that Bruce wouldn’t take responsibility for, not out loud. Because people just take it for granted that well, its Bruce, that’s who he is, that’s not going to change...so since we don’t expect him to do everything that needs to be done, we put that on Dick instead, because he’s more likely to take on more responsibility than should be his in the first place. He’s that kind of character.

Its just easier to keep heaping narrative and emotional responsibilities on the character who’s established as being willing to keep taking on that responsibility, no matter how much you add and how much it isn’t his...than it is to do the legwork of trying to measurably change the character who’s established as being most stubborn about resisting change.

And so Dick keeps over and over getting backed into a corner where the only choices are take responsibility for the very actions someone else did to hurt him, or be the scapegoat for everything that continues to go wrong anyway. Because he makes for an easier target to blame than Bruce, who its deemed pointless to try and get to do anything he’s not already willing to do.

And that pattern repeats, across the board, with pretty much everyone. Its always a one-way street when its Dick’s actions or words that have hurt one of his siblings or Bruce. The responsibility for their conflict is ultimately his and his alone, and there’s never any excuse for what he did or how it hurt someone, never any mitigating circumstances. But each and every time the narrative presents a situation where someone in the family did something that hurt Dick, upset him, made him angry, made him leave....suddenly, it somehow always in those cases manages to be a two way street. Well technically both were at fault, or there’s two sides to every story, etc.

In fics, whenever the family is mostly in harmony or being brought together by some tragedy...Dick’s often cited as the emotional glue that holds the family together, the heart of it....but the second conflict erupts between him and one of his siblings, its equally cited that for some reason, the family’s emotional glue just can’t seem to stop himself from fucking up with one of his siblings, mistreating them, misjudging them, misunderstanding them....in ways that nobody else is guilty of. Its just him, the lone holdout that’s causing friction. From emotional glue of the family to the only one who can’t seem to get on board with what everyone else is perfectly fine with....in two scenes or less.

Which brings me to my ultimate point:

The only times Dick’s anger is considered justified, when its validated and approved of by writers and readers, is when that anger is on behalf of someone else. Then he’s allowed to be as cruel and cutting and as vicious as possible, and readers celebrate it.

Meanwhile, like I said earlier, Dick is only deemed truly sympathetic when he’s hurt and traumatized and shaking…then he can receive soft words of comfort, expressions of sympathy and support, and ‘aww, poor Dick’ in the comments. But anything else, lashing out because of his trauma, and he’s being selfish and not considering the effects he’s having on others (again, I point you back to how many times Jason hits Dick in fics with it not even getting a shout out in the comments).

Should he get angry on his own behalf and express resentment and bitterness towards his own family’s treatment of him at times, then he’s being cruel and inconsiderate of their own circumstances, his response is disproportionate or somehow just happens to cross the line up til which readers were willing to see his side of things, and shifts them firmly ‘back’ in the other person’s camp (again, I point you back to how many times Tim is celebrated for lashing out with years of pent up resentment at Dick, or even cutting him out of his life entirely. With readers cheering Tim on and saying Dick deserved it to degrees I have never seen readers validate or vindicate any amount of hurt or resentment Dick has towards Bruce’s firing of him as Robin).

It all adds up to creating this trap where he can be angry for others, but never himself. He can be sympathetic, but only to a point, and only if it costs no other main characters anything. He can be a victim, but not one with agency, not one with a full spectrum of emotions and reactions that might potentially be upsetting to others. And he can be an antagonistic foil or aggressor, but never one with understandable cause or justification behind his actions, unlike Bruce, Jason or Tim for whom there’s always a reason underlying why they do or say the things they do or say to Dick in canon or fics. Its complicated and they’re only human after all. Dick however, is pretty much always cast as just being unreasonable, hypocritical, spoiled and stubborn or all of the above.

Fandom has gradually over time eroded Dick down to only his opposite extremes, allowing no room for nuance or shades of gray in anything he says or does in canon OR in fiction. Its either or. He’s the most perfect or he’s the most flawed. He’s the solution to the story’s problem, his family’s problem, or else he is the story’s problem, he is the one causing the family conflict. He’s the best brother anyone could want or he’s the worst brother for anyone to be stuck with. He’s a supportive, everpresent son or he’s a resentful, absentee son. He’s eternally pining for Kory, Babs, Roy or Wally, or he’s flighty and promiscuous and with a sexual history longer than Deathstroke’s body count. He’s a helpless victim with too much trauma to act on his own agency or he has no trauma period, and thus no understanding of anyone else’s. He misses his parents too much to ever truly want or think of Bruce as his dad, or he never thinks of them or references them at all. He’s so perfect he exists as an unreachable benchmark that everyone resents him for being, or he’s not really that smart or talented beyond his acrobatics and only significant because he came first, with the others all having long surpassed him in skills and intellect. He has platonic, romantic or sexual relationships with practically every mercenary and antihero in the DC universe, or he has no flexibility whatsoever on his moral stances and is completely incapable of seeing the POV of even his own siblings when they disagree on these matters.

And any and all attempts to paint within these polarizing opposite extremes, to fill in the in betweens with shades and nuances…results in these things almost universally being deemed ‘Flaws’.

Any time he gets angry on his own behalf, so much as raises his voice at a member of his family or someone he’s in a relationship with, even if its only as a response to something they did to hurt him, a fight they initiated and pulled no punches in…this isn’t him being angry, experiencing a normal human emotion characteristic of every character at one point or another…this is his temper on display, we’re told, and this is a Flaw.

The fights always end with him having the last word, the parting shot, because he’s just that stubborn. And by total coincidence, this means the takeaway from all fights he’s in is always that he’s the one who refuses to finish...what he usually never wanted to begin in the first place.

And the thing is...Bruce is infamously angry as well of course, as is Jason, as are many, many others within and outside of the Batclan. But you see, its different with them, because they use their anger, they make a tool of it, it fuels their fights for others, it drives them forward even when they’re frustrated with how much is stacked against them or how unreasoning their opponent is being. They’re angry, yes, but their anger has purpose, their anger accomplishes things. Their anger is another tool in their utility belts. Their anger helps.

Dick’s anger, however, being a Flaw (with the exception of when its ignited in protection of his family), is pretty much at all other times a hindrance. His anger is unreasoning. It’s blind passion. It clouds his judgment and makes him behave irrationally. It can’t be harnessed, its too primal for even him to ever consciously control or put a leash on, and thus it is in all instances dangerous. It is destructive to both himself and those around him; once ignited, it will consume anything in its path, regardless of who or what it comes across. It puts up obstacles between him and the people who love him and just want to help him and be with him but he won’t let them, he and his anger and his stubborn refusal to see past it just keeps wedges between them for years, until someone smacks some sense into him.

(Curiously, every extended canon conflict I can think of between him and Bruce or him and someone else…almost always seems to end with him being the one to come back, reach out, extend the olive branch, etc.)

Similarly, any time he prioritizes himself or his own circumstances over what a member of his family wants him or needs him to do or be…this isn’t an understandable conflict born of the fact that even in co-dependent families, siblings still have a right and a need to live their own lives, and its unrealistic to expect one to eternally put their own life on pause to settle everyone else’s emotional conflicts or needs….this is him being selfish and inconsiderate, we’re told, and this is a Flaw.

I mean, you get what I’m saying, right? Its not that Dick is a flat, two dimensional character who needs flaws to make him more interesting. Its that Dick is a fully three dimensional character the same as everyone else, but people keep calling anything except his most two dimensional characterizations a Flaw, and then they just point to his two dimensional characterizations as proof that he’s boring without these things….

Even though nobody’s disagreeing with that, we’re just disagreeing that all these other things that keep being called flaws are actually flaws! As opposed to just human, three dimensional characteristics that are repeatedly hammered down to their most flat and singular presentation before having a spotlight shone on them and captioned as an eleventh hour addition intended to give depth to his character...

When ironically, these flaws that are supposedly highlighted in order to flesh him out, make him more realistic, human, relatable...are almost always presented in a very shallow way themselves, with very little depth or context to them or Dick’s expression of them, usually intended to only be interpreted in very specific ways.

You want him to be fully fleshed out and three dimensional, not static or unchanging or too unrealistically perfect? You want him to be like every other character?

Well…he already is. All those nuances that are so detectable in everyone else are already there in his core characterization, his canon. Nobody needs to add anything to make him compelling, to make him a partner in a narrative rather than an obstacle to be overcome…because the problem is not with Dick or his characterizations or his emotions, not really.

Its how everyone around him is written reacting to those things, or not reacting, as the case may be. Its this bizarre form of fictional gaslighting where people look at a chapter where Bruce instigated a conflict by bulldozing over everything Dick expressed he wanted or felt, and just issued an edict that Dick objected to…and people somehow come to the conclusion that well, if Dick didn’t want to fight with Bruce, he should simply have not objected to Bruce overriding his wants or needs, or at least gotten over it after a week or two. Hence, really, the fault is Dick’s.

Its Dick having trouble interacting with Jason when he first finally starts trying to reconcile with the family, with Dick written being cautious and wary and watching Jason like a hawk when the readers all know that Jason is trying here, he’s doing his best, he’s changed, why can’t Dick see that, why is he still hung up on….those times Jason almost killed their other brothers. Its like, why is he keeping distance between him and his brother…because of his narratively stated concerns for his other brothers, that are born of that first brother’s canon actions (and referenced within the fic itself) that hurt them. He’s vilified for not caring about his brother…when his caution and distance is literally born of caring about his brothers. Instead of garnering reader sympathy for being thrust in between a rock and a hard place while he works his way towards trusting that maybe nobody is going to hurt each other again and this could actually end well for all of them....he’s condemned for not reaching that point fast enough.

For having to work his way there at all instead of instantly intuiting that Jason has changed and Dick can trust their brothers’ safety around him now...even though had he encountered Jason right before Jason started enacting his big plan in UTRH and welcomed Jason home with open arms and brought him straight to the manor and vouched for him because he wanted to believe this was a happy ending for all of them...at that point in time Tim very well might not have been safe at the manor with Jason, and that could have ended horribly, and how could Dick possibly be expected to just know that Jason had truly changed and something like that was not a possibility at all...without the benefit of reader POVs or without being allowed the time to get to know Jason as he was now, rebuild trust that even if it primarily had been broken by external factors like the traumas that so drastically changed Jason or the effects of the Pit on him...that didn’t mean that even without assigning blame, there was still trust that need to be rebuilt, or built again. On all sides.

But meanwhile, Jason’s inciting actions contributed nothing to this conflict, because he had context for his actions...context that is rendered sympathetically by most narratives, and he’s past all that now and changed. So really, as far as most readers are concerned, the problem that needs to be fixed in this story is getting Dick to pull his head out of his ass and figure out what everyone else already knows, that he should somehow be able to just….sense Jason’s new trustworthiness. That Dick’s flawed for not accepting it at face value because of previous interactions, and being stubborn and judgmental in insisting on proceeding with caution at first instead.

You really want Dick to be three dimensional? He doesn’t need you to add anything to his character to put him on an even playing field with everyone else, or emphasize specific flaws in order to bring him down to anyone’s level.

It literally just requires…treating his character the same way you treat every other main character within a narrative.

Like…just let him be angry for himself at times, without painting him as the worst ever for daring to do so. Like everyone else gets to be, such as when they’re mad at him instead.

Let him put himself first at times without calling him neglectful for not constantly being at his brothers’ beck and call, like everyone else gets to be when they go off and have their own stories and adventures and no one calls them while they’re in Europe and says hey you need to come home and play mediator between Bruce and Damian, or Damian and Tim, or Jason and Bruce.

Let him need time alone not because he’s flighty or flaky or has commitment issues but because he has things he needs to sort out in his own head and that’s impossible to do when he keeps getting pulled in to everyone else’s fights to play peacemaker or expected to take sides.

Let him have inconsistent views on things like killing not because he’s a hypocrite, but because peoples’ views on charged matters can and do change over time, or they take into context specific situations they hadn’t previously considered, or they’re applied differently to other people who have other motivations than this previous instance he expressed a different stance on.

Let him have issues with how Bruce raised him, not because he’s ungrateful or inconsiderate, but because Bruce has trouble expressing how he truly feels about things a lot of times and Dick is someone who happens to really need actual open affection or else doubts start to creep in when he’s forced to rely on reading between the lines. Let this actually be acknowledged as part of the conflict between them, instead of offhandedly mentioned in passing before all focus is honed in specifically on Dick and his ‘part’ of the conflict.

Let him retain his own identity outside of Bruce taking him in, instead of acting like the second he moved into the manor, he became more of a spoiled rich kid than even Bruce is ever accused of having been. As if his identity in his eyes, the whole time he grew up with Bruce, wasn’t far more that of Robin, Batman’s partner, than it ever was of Bruce Wayne’s Ward, the newest Prince of Gotham. Y’know, like how Bruce taking Jason in didn’t magically turn him into an upper class snob, or Damian coming to live with Bruce didn’t magically make him the same as all his peers instead of constantly at odds with them because of his different childhood and how it shaped him in very different ways than theirs did.

Let him constantly hug and touch people and initiate bodily contact with people not because he’s inconsiderate or unaware of boundaries, but instead keeping in sight his own history of being touched without inviting it, and of having things assumed and insinuated about him by virtue of his heritage or simply from being taken in by a bachelor. And thus exploring how perhaps him so often taking the initiative in making or at least offering bodily contact first, lets him set the tone and degree of that contact rather than ever leave him caught unawares. A defense mechanism against people initiating unexpected or unwanted bodily contact with him - if he does it first, and on his terms, then he can never be surprised or disturbed by it, the way he’s so often been subjected to in canon and fics.

Let his family come to HIM sometimes, rather than just waiting for him to always come to them and saying well that’s just how he is. Instead of ever considering maybe that’s just how they’ve always made it be and he never was actually given a whole lot of choice in the matter…it was either accept the status quo or be deemed stubborn and neglectful for refusing to always come when called. Or labeled petty for pointing out that they could just as easily come to him when seeking his help. Or, y’know. Just to drop in and say hi or check up on him or behave like an actual family that acts like they WANT to be around him rather than having to tolerate his presence.

(’Everybody loves Dick Grayson’, most of the Batfamily cite as a source of resentment in some fics, accompanied by an eyeroll. Because despite that supposedly being a truism, almost every actual character in those fics seems irritated or annoyed by him merely walking in the door).

Let his family put in a little effort to seeing behind the mask they all know he wears at times. Let them take the initiative to try figuring out what’s bothering him rather than point to that mask as proof he just doesn’t want anyone to know. When there’s no acknowledgment that their own reactions to his attempts to air grievances in the past quite feasibly gives him a lot of reason to doubt they even want him to take off that mask around them. Given how, as mentioned previously…the vast majority of his canon conflicts with them end with him being the one to cave and get over it, even if he had nothing to do with initiating the conflict. Constantly being told that your reasons for being at odds with a family member aren’t Valid doesn’t exactly inspire confidence that opening up about your current hurts will end any better this time.

Let his family WAIT to hear his reaction to things rather than just presuming they all know exactly how he’ll react based on their own specific views of him, and then jump straight to reacting off of that while he has to play catch up and ends up boxed into the position they assumed he was going to take, rather than ending up there because it was where he WANTED to end up.

Let his family apologize to him for shit they do or say, as often as they expect and demand apologies for every little slight he makes - not to mention a number of ones that weren’t actually his.

Let his family hear and validate and understand and sympathize with his anger, rather than deeming it a flaw and disproportionate and over the top. While at the same time expecting him to always validate and understand and sympathize and get over them killing people because of their own anger, nursing grudges for several years because of their own anger, saying cold and cutting and cruel things to him and telling him to get lost because of their anger, etc, etc.

Let his family be understanding and protective of his childhood mementos of his first family - as in his literal name and his mantle of Robin and the costumes inspired by his family - I’ve said it before and likely will a hundred times again, but I will never understand why this is such a sticking point for people. Why is it not abundantly obvious that if you actually want to delve into the emotions and thoughts and opinions of a character who was orphaned at a young age, your narrative priority should probably not be to first and foremost make sure you find a place to sneak in your latest penis joke about his name. We get it. His name is another word for cock and that’s weird and silly to you. But so much so that you just have to find a way to sneak it into literally every fic about him, even at the expense of your narrative tone or your other characters’ characterization?

Because hate to break it to people, but when you have Jason ready to pound someone into the ground for disparaging Catherine in his earshot, but then write him turning around and two scenes later making a sport out of coming up with new and clever ways to weaponize his brother’s refusal to give up the name he associates with his dead parents, like…you just made Jason a hypocrite and an asshole there, for the sake of a penis joke at Dick’s expense. That’s what that actually was. The dick jokes don’t actually say or do or change anything about Dick whatsoever, in any story I’ve ever read. They only ever actually make everyone making those jokes seem a little less likable to any reader whose first reaction isn’t to giggle. Like, is reusing the same basic handful of jokes over and over really worth that? Are we all five?

Honestly, I think the reason I keep coming back to this specific trope so often is like…I constantly hear fans of other Bat characters say they have trouble connecting with Dick or empathizing with him because he feels less real, they have trouble understanding or relating to what makes him tick, there’s too much shiny and not enough actual depth to his character.

But to be perfectly blunt…when someone’s priority in a scene is coming up with jokes about Dick’s name rather than putting themselves in that character’s headspace and trying to come up with angles for why he would keep that name, despite all the jokes and ridicule he gets for it…like. The problem there is not with Dick’s character or lack of depth or being too hard to relate to or understand. The problem there is they simply don’t care to examine that character’s depth and emotions and motivations and what makes him tick, because they’re having too much fun using him as the butt of every other character’s jokes. And I mean, hey, you do you, but people being unable to move past the penis jokes about a character whose name has been that for eighty years, like…that’s about reader/writer priorities, not an absence of character material.

But anyway, moving on. Again like, try having his siblings actually respect his ways of honoring of his parents and childhood, rather than expecting him to placidly accept being the eternal butt of everyone’s jokes but also to never ever be inconsiderate or absent-minded about their own origins or childhoods.

Let his family respect and appreciate his contributions to their family, the superhero community at large, and their own lives, rather than only ever pointing to his time as Robin or his central place in the superhero community or in their family as a reason to resent him or somehow deem him completely unworthy of any kind of respect. But again, nobody better catch him ever disrespecting one of the later Robin’s skills or contributions to the mantle and community, because how dare he, only they’re allowed to resent or disrespect his time as Robin.

Let his family express actual gratitude for all the times he shows up for them and puts them first, rather than only ever pointing out the times he fails to do so, or doesn’t do so precisely in the ways they expected or wanted him to.

Let his family actually acknowledge his sacrifices on their own behalves, rather than simply expect them to exist, and thus deem them not worthy of notice or recognition.

Let his family be mindful of his traumas and as careful and considerate about them as they expect him to be about their own, rather than forgetting he has any at all, or handwaving them away as not that big a deal and deciding he’s incapable of understanding or relating to anything they’ve been through because he’s had such a better life in comparison.

Let his family remember that he spent his entire childhood with Bruce out on the streets fighting crime and trying his best to save people, often at the expense of normal childhood milestones and accumulating all sorts of injuries and traumas and witnessing just about every horror man can heap upon each other in the process, rather than scoffing at him as spoiled and sheltered because out of all of them, he spent the most time living in an actual mansion.

They wear HIS mantle after all, follow in HIS footsteps, not Bruce’s. Why do people concentrate so much on writing Jason and Tim and Damian’s conflicts over Robin and fights born of its importance to each of them....when judging by every scene they share with Dick in the same fanfics, the three of them often dismiss him as spoiled, shallow, indulged, out of touch with the ‘real world’ or just generally have no respect for...their predecessor....whose mantle still nevertheless means so much to them, they come to blows over it?

Just…let Dick be what he already is, rather than acting like he only exists as one of two opposite extremes and needs everything else rewritten or reframed as a character flaw or else he can’t possibly be deemed compelling or interesting.

You really want a three-dimensional, interesting and compelling Dick Grayson, rather than just a golden retriever on two legs, a source of comedic relief, a humorous punching bag, a handy dandy family therapist, or the Designated Asshole?

You don’t actually need to do anything to his character…other than give it the same courtesy you give to every other character around him.

Just let him be freaking human.

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