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rose-sunlight · 5 years ago

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Hot Chocolate (Spencer Reid x Reader)

Pairings: Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral! Reader, Platonic! BAU x Reader

Warnings: Outing, Crying, but it gets better I promise, Fluff. I feature the BAU with my different LGBTQIA Head cannons, as well.

Summary: An unsub sends an email revealing the darkest secrets of everyone on the team. Y/n shows up on Spencer’s doorstep in tears after the email reveals their sexuality.

A/n: This is my first fanfic after coming out; it’s great to be back to writing. I wrote this after something similar happened to me a few days ago! I hope you guys enjoy!

Spencer wasn’t expecting them to just…arrive on his doorstep. He knew, realistically, when he told them his door was always open, that they were bound to show up one day; he just wasn’t anticipating it to be in the pouring rain, with tears streaming down their face.

He opened the door, and the atmosphere they’d brought was overpowering sadness. The rain made their skin glisten under his porch light, and he would’ve taken into consideration how…magnificently picturesque Y/n looked in the rain, if they weren’t crying and shivering.

“Did you read it?”

Spencer furrowed his brows and shook his head dazedly, “Read what-are you okay?”

Y/n let out a sigh of relief, wiping tears and rain off their cheeks in one fluid motion. This, they had determined, was a safe place, and Reid didn’t know yet, so they finally had the choice to choose who knew. “Can I come in?” They weakly asked. Spencer nodded his head vigorously.

“Yeah, of course, do you want…I dunno, coffee, or something?”

“Um…do you…” Y/n paused to catch their breath. Their voice came out small and fragile as they glanced down at the phone screen that suddenly seemed to bright and loud. It was blowing up with messages-worried messages, from their team at the BAU. “Do you have any hot chocolate?”

Spencer let out a fond smile “You think I wouldn’t stock up when you’re always here? I always have, like, three tubs just for you.”

He hoped that one gesture showed them that he was someone who thought about them. Someone who was caring, and would do anything to show their devotion to them. Reid wanted a jar of hot chocolate powder to prove that he was worth loving.

“Thank you.” Y/n’s voice was barely a whisper as they collapsed onto Spencer’s couch, wrapping themselves up tightly in one of his extensive blankets, letting out one sigh of relief.

“No problem.”

Y/n could see him reaching for his phone, and suddenly shot up off the couch, blanket discarded in what could only be described as blind panic. “Don’t open your emails.” They ominously said, and Spencer put his phone down, waiting for the hot water to boil.

He raised one eyebrow, looking into Y/n’s eyes, hoping to analyse something, anything, that could help him understand what was going on “Are you on the run?”

Y/n snorted at the very thought “Me? Are you kidding me? No!”

“You’re just acting like…I dunno, like…you’re running from something,” Y/n went to yell at him for analysing them, and he raised his hands in surrender, stirring the freshly made hot chocolate “I’m not analysing, I’m just being observant! You want marshmallows?”

“Yes please. And I’m…maybe I am running.”

Spencer paused what he was doing, mid-plopping in the fluffy marshmallows he knew Y/n preferred over any other brand. He asked Garcia to look into their shopping history once to make sure he had the perfect type. She had teased him relentlessly with cheesy nicknames, but had relented and told him. And he had almost bought out the whole store “From the team? That’s why you’re telling me not to look at emails, right?”

Y/n sighed. What the hell, he was going to find out when they turned up for work the next day, anyway. This way, they could decide how he was told. “You know that case we’re working on? We theorized the unsub got off on revealing his victims secrets?”

Spencer handed her the hot chocolate “There you go.”

“Thanks”

“Didn’t we also theorise that he couldn’t have revealed their secrets because he didn’t have the skills to do so?” Spencer asked, more nervous about what could have possibly happened. It was a local case, one they didn’t have to travel for, but it was by far one of the most puzzling they’d encountered

Y/n paused as they sipped their hot chocolate. It was steaming; it almost took the skin off their tongue; it was so hot. But they bared it, swallowing harshly. “We were wrong. He does, or he has someone doing it for him. Anyway, he must’ve been there at that second crime scene, because he found out…information. On all of us.”

Now Reid understood why they were so upset. Y/n had something personal shared “I’m sure we all know everyone’s secrets. We tell each other everything.”

Y/n winced. Spencer placed a comforting hand over theirs. “Right?”

Truthfully, Y/n knew how Spencer would react when they told him. It would be a relief once he had congratulated them, hugged them, and continued a different conversation. Y/n knew all this, but saying the words felt unsavoury in their mouth, like sandpaper and cotton. They looked Spencer in the eyes, and felt fear. “Spencer…” they had to pause, wiping their eyes again.

Spencer was distracting. He was running a comforting hand over theirs, and they worried once they told him, the gesture would stop. “it’s ok. Take your time.”

“He…he…” Y/n wanted to scream it: he outed me, and it sucks so much. Instead, they were stuck gaping like a fish out of water. “I’m [y/sexuality].” They managed to blurt out all at once. Spencer looked sad. He nodded in understanding.

“The unsub outed you?” Spencer said, sighing as Y/n nodded tearfully “Y/n, that’s awful, I’m so sorry.”

Y/n cried. They cried as if their life depended on it, and Spencer accepted them, holding them as they did so, waiting for the sobs to die down. “They had pictures of me and some of my partners…and that damn secret blog I made when I was sixteen and still working it out. And…now everyone knows Spencer…” the cries started up again.

Spencer rubbed their back. “It’s ok. The choice was taken from you, and that sucks. But you have to think about who you have around you. The BAU isn’t exactly the straightest group out there.”

Y/n looked up at him, confused and overwhelmed. As far as they knew, the only person there who was LGBT was them, and that was something they were willing to take to the grave if it meant that their team would treat them differently “What?”

Spencer looked back, almost in disbelief, “You mean, you don’t know? Everyone’s open about it.”

“I don’t understand.”

This was when Spencer began to laugh “Oh my god! Emily; Lesbian, Me; Bisexual Gray-Ace, Derek; Pansexual, and Garcia!”

“Garcia is too?!” Y/n’s mouth was hung open in pure dumbfounded shock “That’s statistically, like, so many gays in one workplace.”

Spencer laughed “Nah, Garcia is just a really enthusiastic supporter. How did you not know—we all have our flags on our desks!”

Y/n let out a shocked gasp even more “That’s what those are? I thought they were for, like, a secret society you guys had formed without me!”

“No, are you kidding!” He let out another loud guffaw

Y/n blushed, rubbing a hand to their neck in sheer embarrassment “I guess I was just too wrapped up in myself” They admitted, prompting Spencer to shuffle closer, until he could wrap a big, lanky arm around them.

“Sorry you didn’t get to come out on your terms.” He smiled, placing a kiss to their forehead. It was well meaning, but Y/n’s felt electric when his lips were against their skin. They outwardly sighed, relaxing for the first time since the email had been sent. “Were you the only one it happened to?”

Y/n thought back to the contents of the email reflectively, “No, I think everyone got something revealed. Even you, but it was just…”

Spencer nodded as his eyes widened “Was it about Dilaudid?” Y/n let out a sad nod as Spencer scoffed loudly at the thought of this Unsub tracking them all down. “Of course, the unsub probably saw me going to one of my meetings.”

Y/n nodded, realising it was their turn to comfort “Most people knew about it, though, which means he made a mistake, one we could analyse with the team.”

“You’re ready to go and see them?” He asked. Y/n gave out a slow and steady nod “You sure.”

“It’s either now or later,” They sighed, before slapping their knees and raising to stand “Alright. Let’s get this over with.”

Spencer rose with them, smiling, extending a hand for Y/n to take, which they did, graciously “Together?”

Y/n wiped some of the left over tears from their face before giving his hand a firm squeeze, downing the final mouthful of hot chocolate as if it were liquid courage, “Yeah. Together.”

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#Criminal Minds #spencer reid #spencer reid imagines #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid x reader #spencer x reader #spencer x y/n #bau x reader

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backdroplock · 5 years ago

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It seems to me that one of the uses of psychoanalytic theories, all of the metapsychology, the clinical papers, the rumination on what things could mean and why, is that so that the active clinician, the participating psychotherapist at any given moment will listen more intently. The theories are there as a way to make sure we pay attention. Because what do all these theories tell us other than there’s something going on beyond the surface. That if you don’t listen properly you might just miss it. And so all the theory and all the theorising helps the clinician focus their mind, both outside of the room and inside. It is a reminder of the complexity of communications, the mind and human dynamics. It helps sustain our curiosity, it reminds us that there’s more happening than meets the ear. It means we listen in a way that will be different to the way someone has been listened to before or perhaps in a way that they were once listened to. This can make people afraid. Perhaps afraid that they might be not be understood but maybe afraid that they will be. It is scary to think that someone listening might just hear something you’d rather not be heard. Because then you might say something that you’d rather not hear which may mean to know something you don’t want to know. Which may mean something might have to change.

How to listen with a simple ear is difficult. To listen with possibility, without assumption. How impossible. A simple way of listening allows something unknown to arrive. Something new. It’s a way of listening that tries to listen without pre conceiving or anticipating what the other might say. Someone once wrote that psychoanalysis makes the strange familiar and the familiar strange. The analysts points us to the strangeness of things we think familiar when we speak. Only when you know that you are a stranger to yourself can you know that the things somebody says to you are not what you assumed. That you don’t know what the other is going to say is crucial in this way of listening. The patient must learn to listen to the analyst the way the analyst listens to the patient. To not anticipate, finish sentences, read minds. To face your own not knowing. The sooner you discover that you don’t know what the other is about to say, the sooner a surprise can occur. The shock of the new. The sooner you can get down to the task of listening.

We spend our lives not listening. We are all amateur psychics, we are all reading minds. By mind reading I mean how sometimes people celebrate how they are able to finish one another's sentences. Is this a good thing? Is it really a moment of cohesion before the other speaks or a moment of domination? Was a mind read or was something simply stopped from thinking, was a thought foreclosed? If one was to wait and not finish that sentence what might have happened? Is speaking a way of not allowing something to happen? Is to finish a sentence a way to make a cohesion before a division might have taken place? Perhaps it is to see off the difficulty of difference before it arises. Like a blind soothsayer we see the future but only because we make it.

We fill in spaces of things with things we think we know before we have experiences of not knowing. We make things familiar before their strangeness can take us over. Take for example the moment when you meet new people for the first time, say you enter a new group of friends. Immediately points of sameness are looked to be found, I like that tv show, I like that film, those politics, that band. Sameness make us feel cohesions and safeties and there’s nothing wrong with that. Except that symptoms are also places of safety and some of those we’d like to get rid of (or so we think). Knowledge or knowing can be a place of safety. The undoing that takes place in psychoanalysis is terrifying, to know that you do not know yourself. Perhaps then this is an old way of listening, the way a child might listen. For some this way of listening comes easy, for many it is rare. Neville Symington tells a story of a cab driver who drove a man to a famous bridge where people commit suicide. The driver asked the man if he was going to kill himself and the man said he was. They talked for a while then the driver drove him home.

Perhaps to listen simply is childlike but then, on the other hand, to be with difference isn’t necessarily something children do well. Children hate difference. For them different might mean better, which could mean more lovable. As children (and adults) we are worried about who loves us and by quite how much. Some of us hold beliefs that we must always delight in order to be loved. As children we would rather destroy difference than suffer someone unknown. Perhaps for fear of losing love, of being rejected and made to feel wanting. It is a fear of not being loved, a fear of how much love we may have to give that can make us do this. Better to flatten the difference, destroy the mystery of the other than suffer their unknowableness, to encounter our envy. What a feeling to be with: that the other might be more lovable than ourselves.

When Adam Phillips describes psychoanalysis as concerning the simple things, I find my thoughts go to a faulty equation of simple = basic = valueless. Is simple thought of as something known? I wonder if others think this too? Perhaps others might wonder ‘well two people talking in a room, I know that, I do it all the time’. Perhaps it flattens difference to think that the thing that happens in psychotherapy is something ordinary, banal, something that can’t be profound or disturbing. Perhaps this makes it safer. It makes it easier to avoid. Perhaps it allows someone to then to write it off, to pretend they may be above help or deny their fear of how much they might need it.

New experiences are scary. Better to flatten the difference like a child might. It might feel easier to categorise an experience as ‘already known’ rather than embark upon something unknown. A patient comes to psychotherapy: upon first meeting their therapist they instantly associate to a colleague, to their work, they remark how similar the shoes of their therapist are... they note a computer on a desk, a picture on the wall. I know this person, they may think. I know this place. The familiar is established; the anxiety of the encounter placed into a matrix of categories known and assumed. It’s as if it has all taken place before and, of course, it is about to. Psychoanalysis isn’t about telling people things they want to hear or already know. It is not about making things the same. To then describe it as simple for some, for me at times, might sound as if it’s known and easily done so therefore not worth thinking about. Which is of course one of the many difficult things about psychoanalysis: it is concerned with things that are unthinkable, unbearable, things that we do not want to think.

#psychoanalysis #therapy #quotes

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quidfree · 5 years ago

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Hi! I saw that you wrote some prompts, I’m hope I’m not too late... could you do a James/Sirius prompt 11? Hope you’re not tired of writing about them I saw you got a lot of requests for that pairing

i never tire of these two x

11: i almost lost you (heavy stuff lol)

in many ways it is the first time they face him.

sure, there had been the recruitment offer, midway through seventh year, like that was going to go anywhere; sirius' mocking laughter and the both of them staunchly unafraid, the handful of them (the year’s best and brightest, as it were) all comparing notes to lessen the slightly hysterical awareness that their last year of high school had included job offers from the dark lord himself. ignoring the fact that some of them had accepted.

that had been hogwarts, however, and though in age they are not far from that time this is markedly different. james has been in duels before, obviously; james has been in nasty ones at that, mainly with various members of slytherin house. the irony of the situation does not elude him as he ducks a sectumsempra curse. fights with the order are not the same. there is an unshakeable urgency to them, and the knowledge that all around you people are afraid, or dying, afraid of dying.

this fight is worse, too. there is a feeling of grim awareness coursing through him before he even knows why, and when he knows why it feels obvious.

“the bastard is here!” moody had shouted, two, five, ten minutes ago, vanishing in a flurry of spells. james has lost track of him since, though he thinks he saw him crack someone’s jaw open with his wooden leg at some point. but the bastard is here, indeed, in flesh and blood, if tom riddle still has those.

now, as he stands stock-still, wand raised, nerves singing, all of those ridiculous rumours they’d invented in school seem less implausible.

“james potter,” lord voldemort says, coolly, advancing a little. they’re not close, but there’s an open space between them, largely unobstructed by the fights taking place around them. james spares half a look for the death eater he’d just knocked out, verifies he’s unconscious, then meets the man’s cruel, removed gaze.

tom riddle had been handsome, in that uncanny aristocratic way that a vein of slytherin purebloods are, dark and charismatic and not all-together unfamiliar, though not the type of bloke james’d like a pint with. voldemort’s eyes are an eerie red, and his skin is reptilian, stretched tight; he looks like the sort of thing james had firmly pretended not to have nightmares about when he convinced his parents he was old enough to be read the warlock’s hairy heart.

“tom,” james echoes, with a genial smile. “small world.”

the faint smile flickers; the man’s snake-like eyes don’t blink. “what a waste of a fine wizard. would you not be spared, potter?”

“spared a lecture, sure,” james retorts. they’re circling each other now, slowly; his pulse is thundering in his ears, throat tight. “otherwise, i’ll pass.”

“no? not even if it would spare your mudblood girl? it seems such a shame for you to lose her and your dear parents in such rapid succession.”

“she can handle herself just fine,” james says, through the throb of how dare he making him see red. his parents’ funeral was barely a month ago. “and my parents clearly raised me better than yours did.”

he just about manages to stop the killing curse very casually flung his way, quidditch reflexes rebounding it harmlessly skywards, then blocks three hexes in rapid succession, twisting sideways to launch two of his own back. voldemort stops them with ease, of course, but it gives james the time to move, pull away from the fray where anyone behind them might get hit, draw the man towards a hallway instead.

he’s a good dueller. near top of his year, even. but he’s eighteen, and six months into the order, and way out of his fucking league for an extended one on one with the dark lord himself.

it doesn’t matter. adrenaline carries him forwards, courage in his veins. he side-steps two crucios, throws out a hex voldemort has to twist to knock away, ignores the lightning-speed of his opponent for his own reflexive reactions. this is a fight like any other, at its core, wand against wand, wizard against wizard; he will kick as much ass as his magic permits, despite the sick thudding in his gut.

“very good,” voldemort calls, mocking, over the explosive sparks between them, robes flapping as he turns. “i expect you excelled at defence against the dark arts in your n.e.w.t.s.”

“i expect you failed,” james shoots back, faux-curious, then has to trip over himself to miss a curse; it gets him in the shoulder, burning like flames, and he swallows a yell to fire a quick block against the next volley, using the spare seconds to finish the curse before he has to duck and roll ahead of the next flash of green light, which catches his robes as he goes.

from the floor he slams out several curses of his own, one particularly annoying binding spell managing to require voldemort’s full attention as he jumps to his feet. his arm is no longer on fire, but the whole shoulder area has gone fully numb, and the smug look on his opponent’s face says he knows this.

he’s seen the same thing on too many’s people faces not to theorise. no doubt it’ll spread down his arm, loosen his grip at the worst time.

well, fuck it. he wasn’t an excellent team captain for three years for a lack of ability.

he tosses his wand from one hand to the other, and enjoys the momentary surprise on the dark lord’s face as he volleys a massive incendio his way. delightfully, it actually ignites the bottom of his robes.

in the seconds where he can afford to, he listens to the sounds of the room drift in through the ringing in his ears: screams, and crying, and spells being thrown dizzyingly from all sides. mad-eye, somewhere, hollering strategies. the tell-tale cracks of apparition.

someone is retreating. if he had the time- if he was someone else, he might have disapparated the moment he saw lord fucking voldemort had his sights set on him. for better or for worse he isn’t, though, and he might as well see this shit through until either camp leaves.

he’s not sure how long the next batch lasts. it feels like quidditch at its worst, like time is suspended and drawn out at once, a million manoeuvres going nowhere, not hoping to win so much as not to lose. he forgets everything of the outside world except the two of them, red against green, so closely knit amongst the chaos that they’re almost locked in a weird dance, pacing each other like animals.

he gets in two good hits. voldemort gets in three.

the third comes as a direct response to his second, and really he ought to have expected that the man’s ego would respond so violently to successful mockery, but the moment his hex lands on his skin, bubbling comically if painfully under it, voldemort’s eyes flash viciously and james can tell, with the inevitability of watching the quaffle slip through the keeper’s fingers, that he’ll be seconds too slow with his next block, shifts course as best he can so he’ll be ready to heal himself-

he barrels to the floor instead, and sirius yells “motherfucker!” as his body explodes into cuts, blood bursting from him with almost comedic timing.

james manages to shield them on instinct alone, his heart pounding with misplaced adrenaline and pure visceral shock, vision locked on the red seeping from sirius’ body where they’re still half-crumpled in a heap on the floor.

he’s still seeing nothing but red when he twist, half-raises himself, and fires off three curses in such rapid succession that he is almost knocked back over by the intensity of his spells. one of them hits, maybe, based on the lack of response; he whips back around, says “sirius” with extreme conviction and no idea what he’s saying exactly, only that- shit, that-

“vulnera sanentur”, sirius grits out, finally audible, though he must have been saying it before; his voice got lost in the buzzing in james’ ears, or else he was practicing non-verbal magic. he is still bleeding.

james pulls them both up to their feet mechanistically, shields with one arm, supports with the other, and feels the killing curse ripple through his protective spell as he looks towards voldemort, close now and smiling broadly. his heart is in his throat; for a moment he could kill.

“enjoying the show?” sirius demands, caustic, unafraid always, even now, and james believes it wholly, because sirius is never afraid of things that could kill him, not like this. “purer blood than yours, tom.”

they are close, and it’s too late to disapparate, james registers distantly; if the fight has turned against them there’s no way out now. but does it matter, really? it’s him, and sirius, against some bully who thinks he’s all that. they have no choice but to give him hell.

voldemort spins two curses their way, and james doesn’t block; james weaves, dragging sirius after him, and sends two right back, grins violently in his direction, ignores the heavy weight of his best friend against him. voldemort doesn’t quite deflect the second in time, and he staggers back, grimacing in distaste, but then sirius is twisting urgently and throwing up a shield and there’s a second mask-less death eater nearby with a recognisably unhinged grin.

“resorting to dirty tricks, bella?” sirius snarls, which explains where he’s been all fight, really, and james just- fucking hell, he hates family reunions with the blacks.

“you’re one to talk about dirty, little sullied cousin,” bellatrix leers, and skips closer to her master, expression going exaggeratedly bashful as she twirls her wand. “my lord, i’m afraid i’ve come to curtail the fun somewhat. many of our ranks have fled before the paltry forces of the order; we are wasting time here.”

“very well,” voldemort says, unruffled, glancing towards the back of the room, where shouting is loudest. “say goodbye to your sweet cousin.”

james knows no small satisfaction in that the end of his sentence is cut short by his having to quickly deflect two hexes, but they get no further; bellatrix is spinning curses in their direction with a manic laugh before he can so much as blink, and it is only sirius’ jerky upwards motion that sends them through the ceiling instead, james following the motion with a blow of his own as he watches voldemort smile, dead eyes taunting.

"look at the state of you,” bellatrix scorns, “and not a scrape on the dark lord.” she too is unafraid, eyes wild and arrogant as their spells collide mid-way.

“his robes look pretty stupid, though,” james retorts, watches her scowl as sirius snorts into his shoulder, itself devoid of feeling. her responding spell is more convoluted, nearly outpaces his twice before he gets a feel for it and rebounds it elsewhere. not far behind them he can hear voices again, and this time he recognises moody, back-up, safety. he is finding it hard to process through the haze, but he knows they are close to survival, so long as he stays alert.

he knows before he moves that it’ll be too much to fend off. voldemort spins green, bellatrix red, and the brute impact burns through his fading shield; the cruciatus curse skims along his leg as he shoves sirius out of the way, and it buckles, searing pain spasming through his muscles as he automatically barrels a hit back. it hurts so much he can’t think, but he throws his weight onto his functioning leg and yanks sirius behind him, watches bellatrix laugh and spin as their bodies begin to blur into nothingness, watches another two spells course through the air that reflex alone won’t be able to stop, and grits his teeth to shield jerkily even as he sinks downwards.

sirius’ free hand knocks into his, wands in perfect parallel, and the shield burns a brilliant white, parting blows collapsing harmlessly into nothingness.

a spell hits his leg and he jolts, but the curse has stopped ravaging him; he pauses, turns.

“are you out of your fucking minds?” mad-eye roars, and james blinks, registers the quiet, registers the smoke fading, the handful of prone bodies and the exhausted disbelief on the faces around them. the many faces, he thinks. “have you ever paid attention to a word i tell you? it’s a bloody miracle you’re not both dead!”

“t’be fair, moody, was james’ fault,” sirius slurs, and that more than anything snaps james out of fight-induced focus, makes him twist to his knees to where sirius is now half-sprawled on the floor, pale and still blood-drenched and wildly, dangerously irresponsible.

“merlin all-mighty, you fucking wanker,” james chokes out, ripping his shirt open to have at his torso, ignoring the convulsions of his leg. sirius shivers, flinches, smirks. his spell sealed many of his cuts, but there’s one jagged wound through his stomach still sputtering wetly, making james’ head spin.

“have some decency, prongs, really-”

“you absolute maniac,” james continues, conjuring dittany from frank longbottom’s bag and smearing it on with a vengeance, his hands shaking like the curse got his arms instead. “you could have just- fucking hell, you could have just shouted, or shielded, you-”

”all right, god,” sirius mutters, grimacing at the sting. “wasn’t fucking- thinking ahead, was i, would a little gratitude be too much to-”

“shut up, the both of you,” moody growls, fury in his hawkish eyes. “the order is moving out of this building. now! if you can’t walk, crawl, and if you can’t crawl, we leave you to die. ‘s what you bloody well deserve, for your antics.”

“could just say you were worried like a normal person,” sirius manages, lost in the irate clanging of wood on tile; he swats james off to drag himself upright, clicks his tongue at his leg. “idiot, what’d you go and get crucio’d for?”

“you,” james begins, suddenly impossibly overwhelmed, and thinks he might kill him, or laugh hysterically, or cry, the latter alarmingly probable, which must show on his face because sirius’ expression registers something like panic.

“prongs?”

“just-” james starts, stops, adrenaline crashing, his hands still fucking shaking. “don’t- don’t do that, don’t throw yourself into the line of fire for me, it-”

“oh, please, like you didn’t stand there and do the same for five minutes after i got a couple of paper-cuts,” sirius retorts, eyes flashing dazedly. “’s what we do, moron, ‘s what i’m here for.”

“no, it’s not,” james says. dumbly, he knows, numbly, and he knows why, actually, understands now that he’s shaking from the aftermath of shock, that when sirius went down he had the brief and violent thought that he’d died, that after his parents nothing seems invulnerable anymore, not even sirius, and he’d not known that until now, no matter how stupid that is. “you’re here to be here, you’re not...”

“oh,” sirius says, noticing his hands, maybe noticing his tone.

he hasn’t cried once for james’ parents. not at the news, not at the funeral, not in the months since, and james knows it’s because he’s a complicated bastard who somehow thinks he can take the pain unflinchingly for his sake, even though james never asked him to, never wanted him to.

“bastard,” he says, out loud, and tries not to cry, drags himself to his feet, pulls sirius up after him, both of them shaky on their legs. they need to leave the building, and then mad eye’ll see them off, and once they’re home there will be time to heal wounds, wait for the next round.

he is so very tired, all of a sudden.

sirius stills him when they’re both standing, oddly serious now, chews on his lip and then lets go of his hand. james has barely refocused on his face through smudged lenses when he leans to kiss him on the forehead, like james does to him sometimes, like his father did, when they were younger.

james inhales, sharp, and then starts crying. predictable, really. he’s done a lot of it the last while.

it’s all right, though, probably. they’ll be out of the building soon enough. he can walk and cry at the same time.

sirius ignores it, generously, or maybe just cautiously. when james starts walking he walks so close to him that james can smell him through the blood and dust, which makes him cry harder.

he can’t ask anything of him, is the thing. he can’t ask any of them what he wants, which is that they let him go first. parents aren’t meant to outlive their children; sirius will always die for james as long as there is a james left to die for. all he can do is protect him as best he can, in return, hope that between the two of them they cover all their bases.

he thinks of the shield, bright and powerful and effortless, and smiles wetly, rubs at his glasses. still smudged. his hands haven’t stopped shaking. if they were different he might’ve grabbed sirius’ hand.

they stop outside the doors, near last, and james gets a glimpse of the others- tired, appreciative, sympathetic- until sirius snatches his glasses off him, visibly surrenders some of his pride to lean heavily against him as he cleans them, shoves them back on with unnecessary roughness, just to be annoying.

moody is saying something, gruffly, and the longbottoms are counting heads, and sirius says: “he’s an ugly fucker, isn’t he?” and james laughs, not shaky at all, ignores the glare moody shoots them and laces their hands together after all, pays no mind to the brief outrage on sirius’ face.

“godric, yeah. d’you reckon he took a bludger to the nose, at some point, or was i imagining the family resemblance with goyle?”

“oh, i think it’s innate,” sirius says, scoffing with unshakeable haughtiness. “looks sort of lizard-like, doesn't he, and we’ve all heard about his dubious parentage..”

“what, mrs riddle fucked a dragon?”

“dragon is generous, prongs, maybe a newt or something.”

“that feels unfair to newts,” james says, seriously, and hums. “limax, maybe. ohh, d’you think that would explain-”

“the robes?” sirius completes, eyes sparkling despite his feverish pallor. “body of a slug underneath. makes sense.”

“potter, black,” moody barks, “if you could spare us the speculation...”

they’ve lifted the mood, at least; he sees alice struggling to restrain a laugh near him as she wipes her brow, smiles winningly at their grumpy commander.

“sir yes sir.”

tomorrow, if the urge strikes him, he’ll kick sirius in the shin to lower him. today, his leg is shaky, and sirius is the sort of steely he only gets when he’s about to collapse, so he just tugs on his hand, and sirius comes, obedient, brow furrowed in light curiosity. james kisses the side of his face, self-indulgent, squeezes his fingers unforgivingly.

“takeout tonight?”

“as long as it’s not indian again,” sirius replies, easy, and james nods feelingly and doesn’t let go of his hand for long enough that it stops being a lifeline and starts being funny.

#lmv #prompt #anon #qui ecrit #this got long as fuck lol #james #sirius #prongsfoot #feelings!#james' parents.... choices.

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t-citurnity-moved · 5 years ago

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HEY TALK ABOUT YOUR LOVES

Ohohohoho.

My thoughts are more or less about the boys, BUT I feel like I also need to provide context because this series has been such a huge part of my life.

So, therefore, let's start at the beginning.

GOD THIS GOT SO LONG AND I AM SO SORRY BUT I HAVE A LOT OF THOTS AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

I have been part of the fanbase (not gonna say fandom, because that implies I'm active at all in the d//m//c "community" when I absolutely am not) since before 2010. That's 10+ years of enjoyment in this series. 10+ years I've been holding onto my feelings because I wasn't sure if it was right to love fictional characters. I still wrote and roleplayed with other people who were also in the fanbase, because... well, writing OC / Canon at the time was the closest anyone could get to saying "I want to date this character and not be judged." (But we all know that even then, if the OC wasn't written a specific way then they'd be considered a sue / stu; don't even get me started there.)

I fell in love with Dante first. He was the main character up until Nero starred in D//M//C4! So why wouldn't I love him? The first piece of media in which I really broke into the series was the anime and that's only because I really loved anime at the time (now not so much, mostly because I don't have attention span, etc). And boy... ohoho boy. I loved him even more. I think it's partly because that was my first real look into the series that I love D//M//C2 so much, because I'm more inclined toward the ""edgy"" side of Dante; wacky wahoo pizza man is cool and all, but I also love retrospective Dante who's a bit serious. Doesn't mean he's not the same Dante, because he absolutely is. But I hate how the fanbase portrays him sometimes. (The same fanbase that hates D//M//C2 and probably hates the reboot too, BUT I'LL TOUCH UPON THAT IN A MOMENT.)

The fact that Dante can be a serious person when he needs to be (or even if he's like... killed his brother several times and is therefore entering into a depressive state because who tf wouldn't) seems lost on a lot of people and it makes me sad. Because when I first really started branching into the fandom, I was (and still am) the same way... I just feel like 2Dante and Anime Dante are just... more relatable? So I lean toward them more than anything because I can understand them more? Because I too have depression and struggle with it? (By no means am I saying that 4/5 Dante don't have depression, I just think at that point he deals with it differently. I have a lot of headcanon there and that in and of itself is a whole ass different discussion. I also think discovering that Nero is Vergil's son / his nephew also helps him handle his depression as well, because "wow... at least I still have some part of Vergil left, even if it is only his kid" plays a bit role in how Dante recovers, BUT THAT'S JUST WHAT I THINK.)

I even think 3Dante has some level of depression going on, even thouh that's the start of the series and it doesn't really start going downhill until after those events. I mean, losing his mother at a young age and also thinking he lost Vergil until, SURPRISE SURPRISE, Vergil invites him to a "bash" which is really just some ploy to gain power? I just think at that point, it's manageable for him; he doesn't struggle with it nearly as much as he does in 2 + Anime. That being said, the fact that he's so """wacky wahoo""" also leads me to conclusion that, even if it is "manageable," he does still struggle at times and I feel probably overwhelms him at times, so he tries to manage BY being upbeat about things. Which, anyone who has depression knows, is so fucking difficult to do. The fact that Dante can keep going despite all this shit going on in his life makes ME feel like I can keep going.

AND DON'T EVEN GET ME STARTED ON VERGIL AND HIS PROBLEMS. Dude just wanted to be protected and loved.

Actually, LET ME get started on that. Because I have a lot of thots.

Vergil grew up believing their mother chose Dante over him. That she didn't try to save him. That Dante was more important to her than he was. He grew up with this inferiority complex because he didn't know WHY their mother never came to save him. He also grew up thinking he wasn't strong enough to save HER. That's why he actively sought out power, while believing humans were "weak." That's why he manifested this hatred for being half-human. Because he couldn't save his family and, for a long time, he was led to believe his mother didn't care for him nearly as much as she cared for Dante (IE. "saving" Dante, but not Vergil).

Vergil's thirst for power is just misdirected feelings toward his family. He should've been mad at demons for attacking them in the first place, but because he grew up believing what he did, it became hatred toward humans instead. That's why he hated Dante, too. In reality, I don't think he really "hates" Dante, just feels severely inferior (which he veils by """having""" a superiority complex instead of the opposite, which he actually has). I think he just had a lot of conflicted emotions that he was never able to work through. Which is why I love the idea that he and Dante, post-D//M//C5 could reconcile at some point. Because neither of them really hated each other, they just had conflicting viewpoints due to one event that go thrown out of proportion somewhere along the way. Vergil just wanted what Dante had, which he perceived as the love of their mother, because she "chose" to save Dante instead of him. In reality, she tried to go after Vergil too, but simply didn't survive. Vergil was entirely unaware of this, so obviously he'd be upset. It's the crux of all his problems.

Vergil HIMSELF even theorises what would happen if they switched places that day! He wonders what would happen if he and Dante's lives were swapped! (Which, TBH, would be a pretty neat AU, heheheheh.) Legit! "If our positions were switched... would I have your life? And you mine?" DUDE WANTED TO KNOW!!! He wanted to know what it was like to BE Dante, to be LOVED, to be PROTECTED by the ONE PERSON they had in their lives at the time! They only had their mother, so OF COURSE Vergil would be upset due to the circumstances! HE JUST WANTED TO BE PROTECTED AND LOVED.

3Vergil doesn't show much of this side of him, because he's just angry and going through a lot and he JUST wanted to be powerful enough that no one could hurt him any more. He would NEVER say this, but dude....... You cannot convince me this dude just wanted to be powerful to keep himself safe. To feel like he finally would've had enough power to protect the people he loves AND himself. He just didn't want to be hurt again. This is, by NO MEANS, an excuse for his actions. It's an explanation. His actions shouldn't be excused because of his ~ f e e l i n g s ~, but I firmly believe that post-D//M//C5, he could redeem himself for these actions. For everything he's done, he can realise it's wrong. He can grow to be a better person. He can reconcile with Dante and even be a good father to Nero. He can be better and I want to believe that he WOULD be better. After everything V went through, discovering that he doesn't really want to be the person he used to, Vergil can change and be better.

OOFIES. This has gone on long, BUT I STILL HAVE THOUGHTS ABOUT THE REBOOT BOYS THAT I STRUGGLE TO PUT INTO WORDS, SO BEAR WITH ME IF THIS SEEMS STUPID OR GARBLED.

Context for the reboot: It's basically a remake of the series that got poor reception because people struggle to accept change. :) I will not debate this and anyone who wants to come at me can eat my socks.

Dante 2.0, like original Dante, HAS PROBLEMS. He's an edgy punk bitch who has problems and he's so ugly I love him.

This dude went his entire life struggling with his identity as someone "human." At one point, he was so convinced he didn't have a heart that he ripped open his own chest to see if he did. Yeah. Dude has issues. But it's ok, because in game, he legitimately sets aside his own issues with people to save humanity. Dude's got such BDE.

People hate him, but I feel like they fail to realise what the hell he's been through. He's been through just as much shit as original Dante. Same goes for Vergil 2.0. These boys have been through SO MUCH, but people don't see that because "Nooo!! You can't just remake the series!!!" Meanwhile I'm like "hehe handsome nephilim boys go brrr."

I literally cannot begin to explain the amount of hate people have for the reboot and it makes me sad, because... like.... y'all.... don't realise... these dudes... went through so much shit..... and yeah... I get it... remake bad, original good, but dude.... my dude.... my bro.... you do not have to hate it that much.... calm down, it's just a video game....

My dude Dante grew up in the system because the foster homes and shit he got placed in were run by demons!!! So he'd lash out at them!!! He was violent because demons suck!! They killed his mom and enslaved his dad!!! Imagine!!! Being surprised by that!!! When you know what he went through!!! Damn, couldn't be me!!!

Vergil went through some shit too!!! Like!!! Yeah, he was adopted into a rich family and lived a pretty cushy life, but fact of the matter is!!! Their parents died and they had their memories WIPED when they were kids!!! Imagine!!! The distraught!!! When he (since he found out who he was long before Dante did) realised what had happened!!! When he remembered!! When he discovered he wasn't human!! My dude founded a whole ass group of demon hunting hactivists because he knew demons sucked and wanted to make the world a better place. It wasn't until after Mundus (big stinky demon man) died that he started realising how frail humans could be and decided to be an asshole about it.

I'm so sad that there will never be any more about the reboot, because fans decided to be assholes about it. I'm so sad that we'll never learn more about what happened to those boys. I'm so sad that we'll never be able to see whether they reconcile or even have the opportunity to.

Alas, I have to rely on heavy headcanon and personal re-write of the story to fix canon instead. :<

#dlselfships #c.txt #WHAT DO I TAG THIS AS????#ANALYSIS???#ITS NOT SHIP BS SO CANT USE THAT TAG BUT UHHHHH #analysis bs #ok sure good enough #LONG POST #IM SERIOUS THIS POST IS SO LONG AND I AM SO SORRY #I JUST HAVE A LOT TO SAY ABOUT THEM #dan.te #ver.gil #dante 2.0 #vergil 2.0 #AAAAAAAAAA NO ONE HAS TO READ ALL OF THIS BECAUSE HONESTLY ITS JUST SOME STUPID THOTS I HAVE AND THEY KINDA SUCK???#also you can tell im SOOOOOO BIASED when the reboot stuff comes in #oofies i loved the reboot and as soon as i saw the first trailer i was like!!! hehe hot man go brrr #even tho i KNEW people would hate it #but hey here i am.... still loving my reboot boys....

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lightshielded · 6 years ago

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today i would like to talk a little about the late queen catherine lightshield, the late - king jarvan lightshield iii and the little riot shone for a brief moment in the slight development of their characters and how this light needed to be smothered to continue the story they wished. this is not a post to condemn riot for this decision, for the reason for doing so is understandable and they are not champions so less important, but a post to talk more about what i personally theorise why these decisions came about during maybe character development and what would have happened in lore had riot not made these decisions ( in short, lore would be nice but more boring as the champions would be doing nothing ) and my reasoning behind this. -- also i know it is entirely possible that they did this purely for drama and i know that jarv is my muse and thats basically all he is used for by this point but look this was fun and interesting and i just like the two characters a lot -- so this is just a little brain storming “what if” if you will, so i hope you enjoy if you continue to read along. part one is my rambling explanation, part two is a what if at the end.

MY RAMBLING

in previous lore ( meaning lore with new lore demacia but prior to recent changes with new champions ), the crown royals of demacia were never quite developed, there was ultimately no need. their ambitious and scarce mentions in their son’s lore gave way to reasonable assumptions of their character and we can assume they were very generic demacias. would could also imagine them both as characters which actually opposed their son in ideology based on the state of this demacia ( the laws were closer to the ones instated by most recent lore jarv with the hardest line mage suppression ).

however, with the newer lores for demacia, riot ultimately wanted to provide xin.zhao with a backstory to fit into the new lore and this is the first large change. now while this lore was not released first, we can assume they were worked on in development together due to the closeness of their update times and this proves a crux to my point. prior, jarv ii was the one who had rescued him from noxus but with the new lore this is jarv iii. now we can assume this is for age reasons as well as making more things relevant in lore ( tho jarv ii does get a nod to in the story and i do like this fact ) by having all active characters closely tied to each other. now we know OLDEST lore demacia raided noxus to free some of their slaves, this is not possible with new lore demacia as they don’t raid nor are they close enough that they can just grab their army and take it to the heart of noxus casually. so noxus had to be the aggressor for it to work, hence xin.zhao’s position as a slave soldier in this story.

but, this inspires a first change in the character of jarv iii - to accept a stranger, a noxian soldier, into demacia he had to be significantly compassionate. so by establishing the king as someone kind enough to release noxian slaves, prisoners of war, and entrust himself to one, to call one friend. BUT this essentially sets up a very kind man who is enforcing harsh, prejudice based laws on a population of his people. obviously, this is a paradox and riot also noticed it and changed it. and with the newer bits of lore we find out multiple new things:

one) this newer lore jarv iii didn’t teach his son to be suspicious of magical beings. this was mentioned before in his old lore that jarv iv was like most demacians on this and this part was removed on revision, even then enforced that this was not true by his uncle remarking on that is was very unlike him to be so during aftermath. so we can assume he was at least not vocal about his opinions or was genuinely trying not to be prejudiced. two) the laws of stone were introduced and presented us with a not much better but step in the right direction set of laws for demacia which is implied to be done by jarv iii. through they were subsequently slowly undone by the council of nobles as seen in a couple mentions in lore of how the laws were tightening in ways the lightshields disliked and how the king had been giving the council more power. three) the king welcomes shyv when it was open that she was a dragon and the nobles questioned his wisdom in it which meant he openly supported the idea of his son having a dragon guard. (old lore had her hiding it and people just thought she looked weird and were super sus of her). four) all the extra lore we got with the royal family publicly helping mage exiles and meeting with them on conference and other things and all.

essentially made him a king trying to be good for mages. in addition to these changes they wanted to make him a likeable person as well. they worked this into jarv iv’s lore by him being genuinely happy for his sons return rather than emotionless, mentioning how his father genuinely cared for him for one and basically having him present. but in the development of his father they also wished to develop his mother. previously it had be a loveless arranged marriage which tied them together but i guess they figured that wasn’t the route they wanted to go now with this new kinder and more emotional jarv iii so they had them romantically inclined with court whispers, gossip and all. so given this opportunity they went to develop her a little bit, giving catherine strong leadership traits and they likely decided they wanted to show these as plainly and briefly as possible, which apparently in demacian lore is how quickly you can shut down a arms race. which she did instantaneously essentially. she basically kisses the king and said stop and the entire nation was like oh shit we need to stop. no arms race civil war for a good spot near the king’s ear. so, yeah, a queen who can shut down civil war and convince nobles to her side every easily that is much beloved by the nation.

in short, they fixed the paradox of a nice king being cruel to a nice king trying to be good. and then added a powerful queen ruler who stands at his side who is greatly loved and just as influential. HOW LOVELY! however, this causes the issue of why could the good of a now markedly feudal kingdom ( they were constitution monarchy in old lore and still kinda are cause the council and they elect the king but we aren’t here to talk about that ) not just make the decisions they wish? i believe this was their point of realisation of their mistake. the realisation that these two would just do what they want, and that the entire lore of demacia for the 26 years prior would be altered. you have an idealistic king and a queen whom the entire nation adores and bends knee to? they SHOULD be able to do everything they want. and likely did some as it is mentioned the king wants his son to finish what they started and achieve his dreams. have to start something to finish it.

alas, by wanting to develop these characters for the sake of champions like jarv and xin, the essentially wrote themselves into a space of, if they continue to exist we can’t have the story we want. so they basically stopped them existing. first they killed of catherine, in all previous lores as far as we know she was alive just wasn’t romantically interested in her husband. but they did royal stuff together, watched her son get almost killed with a poison crossbow once. good ol days. i imagine they were like good business partners. but for the first time in all lores they had her killed, removed her ( they also removed jarv’s capture by noxus too which has existed just as long but thats a discussion for another day ). now this one move is easy since they put fault on the time period, its olden days in terms of technology in demacia, and unfortunately deaths in childbirth were common. so a very easy disposal which not only removed the civil war ending queen but also injures the motivation of the king by making him emotionally worn out ( in an already emotionally taxing job )

essentially, in one fell swoop they pushed back the pro mage changes to be completed by jarv iv based on his lore as had been written. which is then removed from him and he is given the role of the villain with the comic. funny that if they had just left them both ambiguous they could have just easily had the king the villain cause there wouldn’t have been paradoxes. though i’m not sure how xin.zhao would have gotten in... maybe he escapes and they find him fighting noxians. seems alright? oh well at least we get the cute uncle/nephew relationship in this version of lore. this gives me strength. but ye, so it gets interesting from here because you can sit and just think, what would have happened if she didn’t die?

WHAT IF?

for one, the power couple would have been able to do so much more. i like to think they would have been slowly working down the laws for the betterment of their people and since jarv is not emotionally weakened and lady catherine has the entire council at her beck and call, there would be little resistance amongst the nobility. slowly the laws would lower from mageseekers having to register all emergent mages and ensuring they don’t slip up or they’re out to all emergent mages having to attend classes with members of the lightbringers to learn how to have basic control of their magic -- something they are all too happy to do for they have been doing their best without aid until now -- this would then evolve to allowing more experienced mages to take these classes as an assistant and then a teacher, the lightbringers allowing their secret inner circle to take these places and serve in the open for the first time in so long.

slowly mages are given voices in positions of leadership and exiles from “slip ups” are lowered as mages are not repressed and know how to control their magic. this would change to not fearing slip ups as use of magic is less restricted for people are less likely to fear what they understand, magic usage becomes legal on school grounds then ever growing territories, eventually towns would have mage quarters where all manor of magic is permitted. although greater usage of magic would likely not be permitted in older parts of cities as it is known to discolour walls and there is only so much you can replace in instance of greying and flaking. got to keep it simple around the grander structures. but maybe over time the mortar can be replaced to not contain petricite, or maybe the bold amongst them might design builds intended to be saturated so their ceilings flake free and reveal the magic like opals within.

slowly magic is phased into the way of life, a smithy apprentice might be permitted to light his own flame without a flint or builder help ease the load of stone. and then ( as jarv seems to have been doing with shyv prior to the comics ) mages might be permitted to don the blue if they so wished, integrating magic into what demacia sees as their pride and joy. their heroes. the mageseekers would become more a force for protecting against mages in war rather than at home, a battalion rather than a power hungry force governed by a few. or maybe they would remain a police force, part of the city guard like any other just they possess protection from magic so are called for a mage criminal while the non magic protected are called for a person swinging a sword. right armour against the right weapon. also as likely, they will lose their name, and their tools simply be another weapon to the people that wear the blue. the tainted history of the name remembered but not allowed to continue on.

slowly, it becomes a nation that embraces magic rather than shuns it out of century old fears. together it is a country that could have healed its wounds both given and inflicted on each other. and our beloved champions could have grown up in a much brighter demacia. frankly, i imagine that within the 20 years from finding xin to the “now” of this universe, much of this could have been accomplished given what we know of them. i do hope, once all the pain and suffering if through in our version of the lore that maybe these steps could be walked by the true of our champions.

#i spent a couple days writing this #i think i started the day after i made the post #if i am remembering right #my finger tips are tingling a bit from this and work #— out of character `

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certified-dumbass · 6 years ago

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Hey guys!

Guess what? I wrote something! So this is part one of my fic “Countdown”. It centers on Ren getting chucked into hermit craft and being able to see numbers on how dangerous every mob (and player) is!

Here’s the Ao3 link

Chapter 1: Falling out of the sky

Ren did not wake up that morning thinking he was going to fall out of the sky. In fact, Ren did not want to wake up that morning, idling and staying in his bed for much longer than he probably should have He checked his clock when he finally got up, only to see it was already 3. “Well,” he muttered, “Not surprised,” He started walking around his base he had built up. He strolled past the random and messy rows of medieval houses, glancing at a creeper hole he had yet to fix up. He broke into a jog and lightly ran over to a much taller building that held his storage system. He quickly pulled out the stone variants he needed for his project, his tail brushing the floor. He marched out with his stone in hand, and started off to the main structure; a massive castle he had been working on for the past few weeks. He passed his pig farm as he walked, watching the numbers above their heads flick up to a three. You see, something had happened last time he was thrown into another world. When he first got there, the first thing he saw was creeper. Instead of running away like normal, he sat there in confused shock as a number started flicking up above the creatures head, going up to a five. He then exploded. Eventually, he had gone to the end, seeing what type of numbers would appear over the specific monsters heads. The enderman was a three at first, but then Ren looked at one in the eyes. The number flicked up to a six, and the slenderman knock-off nearly killed him. The enderdragon clocked in at an eight, which surprised him. Switching over to a stack of dirt, Ren began pillaring up to one of the towers he had been working on. He sighed, mentally preparing himself to begin. Hours later, he had finally finished this relatively small tower, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. Glancing up from his work, he realized he had worked much longer than he thought, the sun just peaking over the horizon in a beautiful pink and red sunrise. He sat down and ate a potato, just enjoying the sunrise. He must have fallen asleep, because he was woken up by his amazing ears picking up a hissing sound. Whirling around, he was face to face with a creeper, it blowing up right in front of him, blowing him back. He started falling to the ground, the fall to surely kill him. This wasn’t the first time this had happened, so he just sighed and let it take its course. That is until he was no longer falling off a medieval castle tower, but into a rapidly approaching wooden house that looked way too tall for its own good, a white flag with a hole in it, and… was that a dabbing pengu- His thought was so rudely interrupted by a house crashing into him, sending him sprawling in a small, unoccupied room. “What in the actual fu-” Ren coughed, right before passing out. Joe was peacefully writing in a book for his new roller coaster, enjoying his work, watching the sun rise; or more accurately, the world spin he thought; when he heard a loud whizz, followed by a crash. Glancing up from his restful writing, he discovered that there was now a massive hole in the precarious peak that was Grians house. He rose from atop the Cherry on Top store where he had chosen to pick his perch, and decided to sort out the source of the screaming. Whisking on his wings, Joe took off towards hemitville. Reaching the top of the wooden abode, he stared down into the massive hole the comet had created. Staring down into the wide hole, he saw an odd sight. There was a new player; not all that interesting; he looked like most new players look with the blue shirt and jeans, but this new guy had grey wolf ears and a tail. It was not often new players had extra extremities, with the only others being X’s turtle tail, Python’s snake tail, and Wels’s hooves and tail. “Are you okay, my furred friend?” Joe called down, not expecting much of an answer. To his surprise, the player groaned, trying to sit up. Joe jumped down into the room and gently forced him to lie back down. “You took quite the fall there,” Joe said caringly, “You might have broken a bone or five,” The new guy glanced up, narrowing his eyes, “Why is it so bright out?” Joe glanced up, but nothing seemed to be different. “Maybe your old world was darker,” the poet theorised, “But I don’t think that happens very often,” Ren glanced up against the glaring light of day, frustrated at his eyes. This nice person with the southern accent he was talking too finally moved his head over the sun, and he could see his face a little better. He had a brown flop of hair that nearly covered his cobalt blue eyes, which were in turn covered by thick glasses. He wore the same blue shirt Ren wore, but with a large white @ symbol over top. More importantly, Ren looked above his head to see… an EIGHT!?! There is no way that this nerdy looking guy could possibly be as dangerous as the enderdragon. Joe looked at the new guy, noticing the features of his short brown hair and striking yellow eyes. He helped him up. “My name is Joe Hills, helpin’ as I always do from Nashville, Tennessee. What’s your name, my good sir?” “My name’s Ren Diggity Dog! Coming from… nowhere in particular! Uhh, could you show me around or something? Are you the only one here?” “Well, no. This is a multiplayer server, but new people arrive every now and then. Let me show you around our current location, then let you explore by yourself.” With the help of Joe, Ren made his way out of the tower-like-house and back safely onto the ground. The glasses dude was very talkative, and explained the whole server that was revealed to be called hermitcraft and its participants the hermits in their walk around the town, all the while Ren was marveling at the crazy builds. “So, I hope I was a helpin’ hand!” Joe finished, “But I gotta head back to finishing my new minigame, see you around!” He took off using those elytra he always had on, while the wolf man stared after him in envy. He decided to take a look around for a place he could get some sun glasses, as his eyes were straining at this point. He stared at the ground as he walked, his head still aching from his fall. Eventually the reality set in that he wasn’t going back to his quaint old medieval town. He was stuck in this new place, needing to make new friends. Not like he had any in his old world anyway. He was walking mindlessly, not really looking where he was going, when he walked directly into another person- hermit, rather. Ren stumbled back, then got up to apologize. “Dude,” he said, “I’m really sorry, I-” He was interrupted when the other hermit turned around, having great big round surprised eyes and a shocked mouth, both of which were unnaturally large. Ren yelped, taking an involuntary step back before realizing they were just a pair of gag googly eye glasses and a face mask. “Nah, dude,” googly eyes guys said with a pleasing accent and a laugh, “It’s perfectly fine!” This new guy seemed to have the SAME shirt as Joe and himself, with the same brown hair as well. I really need to change if it’s this repetitive. He thought. Remembering to glance above his head, this new guy seemed to be a four, so basically an almost-gremlin. “My name’s Keralis by the way,” the nice accent guy said, “It looks like you’re new here too!” “Yeah,” Ren laughed, “I really am. Hey, do you know where I can get some sun glasses? My eyes are killing me!” “Oh, uh, no not really,” Keralis said uncertainly, “Like I said, I’m very new. But you could ask one of the older hermits from this season! I bet they would know!” “Thank you! Have a great day!” “You too!” As the two walked away from each other, Ren wondered where in the hell he would find another hermit. His head throbbed in response, telling him he needed to lay down, he just fell out of the freaking sky. Sleep is for the weak! He thought triumphantly as he promptly passed out.

#hermitcraft #mineblr #minecraft #Rendog #renthedog #Keralis #keralis1 #Joe hills #joehillsTSD

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365daysoftododeku · 6 years ago

Text

15th May 2019

Author: Mara

________________________________________________________________

Sunshine Smiles

Shouto’s father was an ass. Well, he wasn’t the worst, he had gotten better, but he still took Shouto’s phone and laptop every time he went up to his room. ‘It is a distraction’ his father would say. Shouto thought he was just being an ass and liked to annoy Shouto, mostly because he wasn’t able to properly operate his own phone.

Nonetheless, Shouto was a seventeen-year-old, stuck in his bedroom with nothing. Well, there were books, but he didn’t want books. He wanted to talk with Izuku, his best friends and his not-so-secret crush. Apparently, the crush was only a secret for Izuku, and a long time, for Shouto himself. He hadn’t realised he liked his friend romantically, he had just assumed it was perfectly normal to feel warm and safe around someone you trusted. Later on, he had realised he hadn’t the same feelings around Momo, who was also a dear friend of him. And he never had the desire to kiss her.

Shouto definitely had considered kissing Izuku sometimes. He looked really kissable, with his freckled nose and cheeks, his big, green eyes, a mop of curly hair and lips that never stopped moving. Thankfully not because Izuku was kissing someone, but because Izuku never stopped talking about whatever fascinating thing he just had read. Shouto loved listening to Izuku.

It didn’t matter that he had a crush on his best friend. After all, his best friend was dating someone else. Uraraka Ochako was a sweet girl and Shouto couldn’t hate her. She clearly adored Izuku, and Izuku clearly adored her. And even with his little knowledge concerning romance, he could see that the two of them were cute together.

Lying sprawled on his bed, Shouto was half-asleep when he noticed a bright light flickering on and off. Only his desk-light was on, and that thing was only burning lightly, casting a warm glow over the wooden desk. But nothing more.

Finally, his tired, moping brain caught up with what was happening and Shouto nearly toppled out of bed, rushing over to the window.

He could look straight at the window of the house opposite of his. The street was pretty narrow, but it was still hard to make out details. But it wasn’t hard to notice the mop of green curls, or the bright yellow pajama Izuku wore.

Shouto waved, and Izuku finally stopped flicking his light switch, leaving the light burning.

They’ve been doing this for years, even before they got attached to their phones and spent most of their time texting. Midoriya Izuku has been living opposite his house for as long as he could remember, and they have been friends for almost as long. It was hard not to befriend Izuku, with his sweet appearance and bright personality.

Izuku rolled his whiteboard over to the window. Today was whiteboard day, it seemed. Whatever was troubling Izuku, paper wasn’t enough to conceive the message.

While Izuku was scribbling something down, Shouto grabbed his own whiteboard and wheeled it over. One side was filled with junk, red yarn, pictures, newspaper articles. Shouto couldn’t even make sense of what he had tried to theorise, but he had been drunk on lack of sleep so probably it was something completely outlandish and ridiculous.

The side with the conspiracy stuff wouldn’t face the window, Shouto liked to keep that bit of dignity.

Looking at the Midoriya household, he saw Izuku doodling on the whiteboard. So he was done writing. ‘Math is killing me, h e l p’ it read.

Shouto picked up a marker, jotting down his response. ‘I finished it. What question?’

Izuku stopped his doodle, read Shouto’s message, and wiped out his own message. Izuku noted down one of the last questions, one Shouto had struggled with. He wasn’t surprised that Izuku also struggled with it, and this late at night you didn’t want to keep going on forever with one, stupid question.

Shouto started to note down the answer, after checking his own calculations. He was okay at math, but no way he could do it from the top of his head. He wasn’t a miracle worker.

Slowly, as expected, Izuku’s face started to light up with realisation. After making a few notes on an off-screen paper, Izuku erased his question and drew one big ‘thanks’ on it, surrounding it by doodles of flowers, stick figures and hearts.

He was really gay for this boy, there was no going back.

~*~

‘I’m bored,’ Shouto’s first message read, and Izuku tipped his head back in quiet laughter in response. His father had guests over, so Shouto had fled upstairs. Without his phone and laptop, of course, because he was planning on spending his entire evening searching the dark web like his father believed to think.

‘Me too tbh’ read Izuku’s paper. A second one followed. ‘U have time?’

‘Yes???’

Izuku looked like he giggled, but that could be wishful thinking.

It took Izuku some time to scribble down whatever thing he had cooked up. Usually, he used the whiteboard, but in his mid-term scramble, he had forgotten to buy new markers. No markers, no whiteboard.

‘Don’t laugh’ the first one read. The second one followed after a thumbs-up from Shouto. ‘What would be-’ and ‘-a nice date?’

Seconds passed and Shouto just blinked at the words. Izuku was asking him about ideas for a date. A date Izuku would take Uraraka on, most likely. He was asking Shouto of all people. The guy who was still single and painfully crushing on his best friend.

‘Not for me!’ a sign was added. Izuku’s face had grown red. ‘Kirishima’.

Oh, that was… better? Shouto didn’t know Kirishima all that well, aside from that it was their classmate, that he had started to dye his hair in their senior year and that he got along with basically everyone, including socially awkward Shouto and hot-tempered Bakugo.

Still, Shouto’s mind drew a blank. What was even a good idea for a date? Movies? Ice cream? Summer was getting close. But those were ideas that Izuku already knew, and if not, he probably wasn’t interested in them. Those would be the suggestions the internet would give you.

Shouto looked up to the heavens, begging whatever being that was up there to give him an idea. His eyes caught the sight of thousands of stars sprinkled across the vast darkness.

Not knowing what else to write, Shouto wrote down ‘stargazing’ and showed it to Izuku. Even from this distance, Shouto knew that Izuku’s eyes were twinkling like the stars above them.

~*~

It was pretty much an average night for Shouto. He had finished his homework, his father was insufferable so he had hidden upstairs, where the only company he had was Izuku. Thankfully, Izuku had finished his homework too and was willing to entertain Shouto by playing hanging-man with him. It was a silly game, but he loved it when Izuku came up with the most ridiculous words, creating small doodles around the vast surface of the whiteboard while Shouto guessed the letters.

After a couple of rounds, in which the score ended up being five for Izuku and one for Shouto—he sucked at this game—they moved on to just chatting.

Not in the mood of talking about school or his father, Shouto decided that their classmates were a safe subject. Uraraka had been sick for the entire week, which meant that Izuku most be worried out his mind. His girlfriend was sick. Shouto knew that he would panic if Izuku would be down with a fever—he had been there before.

So he scribbled ‘how is Uraraka doing?’ and patiently waited for Izuku’s reply, ignoring the painful stab in his heart.

Izuku looked confused, taking a long while to note down his reply. ‘She is okay???’ he noted down, erasing it and added the second part: ‘she told us, in the g-chat’.

Now it was Shouto’s turn to be confused. He knew that Uraraka had texted them that she was fine, but Izuku surely would have visited her!

‘You haven’t visited her’ he nodded down, adding ‘homework?’ as an afterthought.

‘No, Tsuyu did’ Izuku replied. ‘Why?’ followed after.

Shouto bit his lip, wondering if he should ask. Izuku had never told him that he was dating Uraraka, but it was blatantly obvious that they were a thing. He didn’t want to pry in Izuku’s private life, but he had no other explanation why he had assumed that. And he wasn’t going to lie to Izuku.

Shouto took his time by writing down his response, delaying the inevitable conclusion that yes, Izuku was dating Uraraka and Shouto didn’t have a chance.

Izuku stood frozen in shock. Not even bothering to wipe out his previous answer, he wrote down a big ‘no’ on the whiteboard.

Shouto felt relieved. He wasn’t even going to deny that. He in no way hated Uraraka, he even liked her, but he liked Izuku a lot more.

‘Why did you think that?’ Izuku asked. His handwriting was a hurried scribble, which was unlike Izuku who had eligible handwriting.

‘It looked like it’ Shouto answered in all honesty.

Izuku paused for a long time, apparently deep in thought. Eventually, he wrote a question on the whiteboard, not even bothered to confirm he had read Shouto’s answer.

‘Are you and Momo a thing?’ it read.

Oh. Oh. It looked like he was dating Momo. Maybe because they were close friends? But that was the exact same thing as Izuku and Uraraka. They were close friends, and immediately everyone, Shouto included, thought they were dating. And probably everyone thought he was dating Momo, which he definitely wasn’t. He was gay and had a ridiculous crush on Izuku.

He wrote down ‘no’ on the whiteboard. It was hard to see from across the street, but Shouto was quite sure that Izuku looked relieved. Or he was just projecting, which was quite possible because he was an absolute fool.

Wiping out the ‘no’, Shouto jotted down ‘sorry’, drawing several clumsy hearts. He wasn’t as artistic as Izuku, but he knew his best friend liked it if Shouto tried. Plus hearts were innocent, as Izuku threw them around all the time. It wasn’t like Shouto was pouring his heart out.

Izuku was glowing.

~*~

His father was out of town, so Shouto could have his stuff upstairs for once. Not that it withheld him from communicating with Izuku trough their usual means. It had a certain charm to it, and a nostalgic feeling. Something they wouldn’t be able to keep doing once they graduated high school and move on to college. In the back of his mind, Shouto had suggested multiple times if Izuku wanted to be his roommate. But this only had been a thought. He had been too big of a chicken to actually ask.

They had been playing a couple of rounds of tic-tac-toe, Izuku always winning or making them tie. Shouto hadn’t figured out the trick yet, despite Izuku’s insistence that there was indeed a trick to never lose in tic-tac-toe.

After Izuku’s twelfth victory, his neighbour wiped his board clean and started to jot down a message: ‘do you want to see the stars?’. Around the word ‘stars’ he had drawn small stars, the red marker popping against the black.

Despite being confused by Izuku’s request—they never had watched the stars before, he didn’t even know that Izuku liked watching the stars—Shouto answered with a hurried ‘yes’. Everything to get out of this warm home, even if he would be hit by the warm summer air. And, he would enjoy some time with Izuku that didn’t involve any of their friends.

He made sure he looked presentable and told his sister he was going out (to their neighbour, so no, he wasn’t going out partying). He left with only his phone, a house-key, and a lot of excitement.

Five minutes later, after greeting Izuku’s mum, declining the food and drinks she offered, he was laying down on the grass, Izuku only an arm-length away. The warm summer weather meant that it was cloudless, showing them a star-filled sky. It was breathtaking.

“I can’t believe we’re almost done with high school,” Izuku said in wonder.

Shouto grunted in agreement.

In the corner of his eyes he saw Izuku move. Curious, Shouto turned on his side. Izuku was staring at him, clearly nervous. But why?

“You still aren’t dating Momo, right?”

“I’m gay.”

Well, that was out of the bag.

Izuku stared at him with big doe-like eyes, “I thought you were bi.”

“Gay, really gay.”

“I’m bi,” Izuku confessed.

Shouto wasn’t really surprised. He had a suspicious, but never knew for sure. He tried to stop making assumptions after he was completely wrong about Izuku and Uraraka dating.

A piece of paper came out of nowhere. Shouto assumed it had been in one of Izuku’s short pockets, but he would never know for sure.

Izuku slowly unfolded the paper, hiding behind the red ink and the worn lines of paper that had been folded and unfolded many times. It took Shouto a few seconds to realise that the red ink formed words, but hard to make out what it was, with how close he was to the paper.

Moving his head back a bit, Shouto finally managed to read the words.

‘I love you’ was written with a red marker, hearts in all sizes drawn around it.

Shouto was almost sure he was dreaming. Almost, as he had dreamed of this before. Izuku confessing to him, but never like this. Never lie on the grass, bathing in the warm summer sun and trying to watch the stars.

“I’ve loved you for five years.”

Izuku grew rapidly red in the face, eyes growing wider by the second.

“Five years!”

Shouto nodded.

“You can’t just say that! Now I feel bad,” Izuku hid his face behind his hands. “I’ve been crushing on you for, maybe a year?”

He didn’t really care. No, that sounded insensitive. He did care, but his five-year-long crush was just ridiculous. One year seems much fairer than being thirteen and barely able to grasp the concept of love. What even is love, aside from the wild beating of your heart, and an overabundance of love for a specific person?

“Do you,” Izuku hesitated, before determinedly grabbing Shouto’s hand. Izuku’s hand was sweaty and slightly sticky, but Shouto hadn’t it in him to take his hand away. Izuku must be as nervous as him, if not even more. “Want to go out?”

Shouto swallowed nervously. “Like, on a date?”

Izuku nodded. “We could get ice-cream, or go to the cinema! And since we’re going to the same college, we’ll see each other a lot even away from home! Maybe my mum even wants to take you along on our holiday, she loves you to pieces!”

“She wouldn’t mind us dating?”

Izuku shook his head, his curls falling in his eyes. He didn’t seemed bothered with it, at all. “She would be overjoyed, she knew before me, probably.”

Shouto suddenly recalled his sister’s knowing gaze each time he talked about Izuku. And as he hadn’t told her about his long-lasting crush, she must have figured it out herself. She never told him that she knew, though she never had disapproved of it either, as she hadn’t ratted him out to their father.

“I think my sister knew.”

“I think everyone knew it before us.”

It was a bit embarrassing to realise that Momo knew, and that she had been hinting and pushing the whole time. Shouto only had seen it as supportiveness. Turned out she just knew more than him. But in the end, it didn’t matter all that much. Because now they were there, holding hands, smiling like fools in Izuku’s backyard. Maybe this wasn’t the most romantic moment one could dream off, but Shouto liked this plenty. At least this one was real.

________________________________________________________________

Would you like your work to be featured in the 365 Days of TodoDeku Project? Apply here! (≧∇≦)/

#Story #lavanderstarcatcher #TodoDeku #365DaysofTodoDeku #TodoDeku365 #365 Days of TodoDeku #tddk #Shouto Todoroki #Todoroki Shouto #Izuku Midoriya #Midoriya Izuku #Boku no Hero Academia #BNHA #My Hero Academia #MHA #Todoroki x Midoriya #Shouto x Izuku #TodoIzu

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iffeelscouldkill · 6 years ago

Text

The big picture

A/N: WHAT’S UP GUYS I’M BACK AND I WROTE A FIC.

Not the steadily growing WIP that I’ve been talking about for weeks (that’s still ongoing) - this one is a companion fic to That’s why we do what we do because I was listening to Episode 10 and suddenly I needed to write Park’s perspective. And then of course it grew out of control and I wound up taking like a week and a half to finish it xD

This fic contains spoilers for TSCOSI Episode 10. I feel like it’s been long enough now that I don’t need to put the whole thing behind a cut, but still, spoilers!

Warning that this fic also deals with the fate of Team Two in a little bit of detail - not graphic detail, but it tells that scene from Park’s perspective, so heads up for sort-of-offscreen character deaths and the emotional impact thereof.

Agent Park has one goal going into the Plan: keep McCabe safe.

Of course he also wants to help the crew of the Rumor, and ideally make it out alive himself (priorities in that order), but large parts of those two things are out of his control. This, on the other hand...

He remembers McCabe’s face when Major General Frederick came to take him away; the way they defended him without hesitation to the highest-ranking General they had ever met. So few members of the IGR rank and file, no matter how new or green, would dream of doing something like that. But McCabe is different, and always has been.

He makes sure that McCabe sticks close to him even as Goodman and Clark peel off to patrol the labs. McCabe doesn’t seem to find it unusual, falling back into their old roles of superior and subordinate with something like relief. McCabe was never a ladder-climber, as much as they tried to pretend that they were.

Really, he thinks that all McCabe ever wanted was a partner – someone who would treat them like an equal. That was all Park wanted, too.

“That ship’s empty,” he tells McCabe, as they announce their presence to a battered-looking but innocuous ship in the North-27 docks.

“How can you…?”

Park knows it’s not the Rumor because he’s been specifically told how to recognise it for the purposes of the Plan. But it isn’t hard to think up another explanation.

“Feel the side? It’s cold. Nobody’s flown it in hours.”

“That’s… really smart,” says McCabe, in the slowly delighted tone of someone who has been spending a lot of time around people who don’t comprehend logical or lateral thinking, and has just rediscovered an intellectual equal.

Back in the early days after McCabe had joined his team – after they’d loosened up a little and realised he wasn’t going to report them for being a human being with the occasional flaw – the two of them used to challenge each other with thought experiments and reasoning problems, charting different possible courses for the Rumor, extrapolating potential interception scenarios and theorising how the crew would react to different courses of action.

The Intergalactic Republic does not recruit for intelligence. In fact, they recruit for the exact opposite: an ability to follow orders in the face of logic and common sense (and often, ethics) – something which Park and the others are counting on heavily for the Plan to work. People of McCabe’s talent tend to wind up either becoming disillusioned and corrupt, defecting and getting taken away, or in rare cases, climbing to the top ranks of the organisation.

While he was around, Park had been doing his best to prevent any of those things from happening. It was probably naive of him to think that he could keep it up for very long.

“This one’s warm,” says McCabe with hushed excitement, and Park nods in approval.

“Go ahead.”

“Attention. Attention! This is Agent McCabe of the IGR--”

McCabe pauses as the message echoes back to them on a slight delay, playing through the audio device Park is carrying. “What’s that echo?”

“I’m picking up the transmission from the nanoswarm,” Park replies tensely.

“Why is the swarm—” But it doesn’t take McCabe more than a second to put two and two together. “It’s picking up my voice because it’s in this ship?”

Park switches on his walkie-talkie. Time to get the next part of the show on the road.

“Park to all agents. Park to all agents. Agent McCabe has located the Rumor. Sending you our location. Major General Frederick, please advise.”

He finishes by hitting the little button on his walkie-talkie that will send out a beacon with their precise location. In reality, he’s pretty sure that IGR-issued walkie-talkies are broadcasting their locations to upper management at all times (why would the Regime pass up a perfectly good opportunity to spy on its employees?), but he has to play the game. That’s what this is all about.

“This is Major General Frederick,” the Major General’s voice filters back through the walkie-talkie. “Stand by for Team Two.”

“Copy that,” Park confirms, and switches the walkie-talkie off.

“Now what?” McCabe asks.

“We stand by,” Park replies, dryly.

“Right,” says McCabe. Then, with the air of someone who has been desperate to bring this up,

“So, did you hear about the latest crackpot conspiracy from the Rumor? They said the Major General is developing the nanoswarm so we can use it when she starts another war with the Dwarnians. Ridiculous, right?”

“…Of course,” says Park, and even to his own ears he sounds unconvincing. He wishes he could tell them something more meaningful, or better yet, level with them about what’s going on. But Team Two will be here any minute, and he has no reason to believe that the IGR isn’t listening in on their conversation – especially as they stand feet away from an alien nanoswarm that was configured for constant surveillance.

“Um. How’s… Shelley?” asks McCabe after a beat of awkward silence.

“She’s fine,” says Park, a little too quickly. “Relieved,” he adds, at McCabe’s quizzical look.

Park hasn’t in fact spoken to Shelley since he was released from Zone Z. He’s not really sure what he would say. If everything goes well with the Plan, Park won’t be coming back to New Jupiter for a good, long while. And if it doesn’t, well… letting Shelley know that he was safe and that his name had been cleared right before he was either recaptured or (more likely) killed would just be cruel.

If he survives, then once they’ve made it a safe distance from New Jupiter, he’ll try and get a message to her.

Maybe.

“What happened to your eye?” McCabe asks. Park knew this was coming.

“Zone Z happened,” he replies, flatly.

“But… you didn’t do anything. Did you?”

Park knows that McCabe is grappling with the idea that he could come back to work, act fine, and still profess loyalty to the Regime - to the “Republic” - after what has been done to him. He also knows that IGR recruits are taught – and that McCabe still believes, however doubtfully – that only traitors and criminals of the very worst kind are sent to Zone Z, so they deserve every bit of the punishment meted out to them there. To have him walking around, demonstrably innocent, doesn’t sit well with that narrative.

There’s a reason that no-one comes back from Zone Z. But Park insisted. And luckily for him, the IGR is stretched and disorganised enough right now that it couldn’t afford to pass up the prospect of a trained, capable agent who knows the enemy returning to work.

Park told them he had a personal score to settle. It was the truth.

“In the end, I caused the Republic a lot of paperwork,” he tells McCabe, knowing exactly how flimsy and bureaucratic it sounds. “Every dead end is wasted time and energy.”

“But you didn’t do anything,” McCabe repeats.

Exactly, Park wants to say. You know that’s wrong. Trust the instincts that are telling you that this is not okay.

“During the war, we used to say sooner or later, we all make sacrifices,” he says instead. “The trick is to keep your focus on the big picture.”

“Oh… of course,” says McCabe uncertainly, as Team Two’s footsteps sound behind them, led by Agent Seiders.

Park watches impassively as Team Two cut their way in through the side of the ship. McCabe watches with narrowed eyes, and Park knows that they’re thinking this is far too easy.

“We’re in,” Seiders reports. “Any clue where they’re hiding?”

“Let’s see…”

Park adjusts the settings on his audio device until he’s picking up the transmission from the cockpit, Brian and Violet’s voices singing softly. “Sounds like the cockpit,” he replies.

In reality, there’s no way he would be able to tell that straight off, but Seiders takes it at face value.

“Copy that. Passing a storage room on my 9 o’clock, cockpit straight ahead. Think it’s safe to say they don’t see us coming.”

As the singing continues, McCabe’s eyes narrow even more and they shake their head, agitated. “Something’s wrong.”

“Too easy?” asks Park.

“Too familiar,” McCabe replies.

“What?” Seiders isn’t following.

“I’ve heard this before,” McCabe insists.

So has Park, but he pretends not to follow their meaning. “We… all have?”

“No, I’ve heard this before. They’re playing a recording!”

Fortunately for the Plan, Seiders’ ego won’t allow him to take a hint from someone else, least of all a lower-ranking Agent. “McCabe, as the senior agent here, I’m gonna make my own calls.”

“Incoming call from – Brian Jeeter,” ELLA’s voice sounds over the audio device.

“Computer, accept?”

Brian Jeeter’s voice comes through the speaker. “Computer, execute Sequence Five. Brian Jeeter out.”

The recorded singing abruptly cuts off.

“Team Leader Two!” Park says urgently. There should be just enough time for Team Two to get clear of the blast, but they need to move right now.

“This is for – Alvy Conners – the entire crew of – the Iris – and – Emily Craddock,” says ELLA pleasantly. “You – can’t – make – a person – disappear.”

Park has to hand it to the Rumor crew: they have style. The words send a shiver down his spine.

“Self destruct in ten…”

“Should we… retreat?” a young junior agent, uncertain but with far more common sense than Seiders, asks.

“Nine…”

“It’s a bluff – they don’t have that capability,” says Seiders, far too self-assured. Park almost swears. His arrogance is going to get his entire team killed.

“Eight…”

“Don’t risk it – get out of there!” he orders.

“Seven…”

“Hang on – they have a still, for moonshine,” says McCabe, because not even the probable threat of an explosion will stop them from reasoning through a situation.

“Six…”

“What if they recalibrated it—”

“Five…”

“Take your team out of there!” Park shouts more insistently, grabbing McCabe by the arm and pulling them backwards, outside the blast radius.

“Four…”

“Fine, let’s move!” Seiders finally says, with just three precious seconds to spare. Footsteps sound, and Park keeps his eyes on the hole in the ship wall, thinking about the time it takes to run from the cockpit to the outer door. Too long. But maybe if they jump clear—

The countdown reaches one, and the footsteps of Team Two stop.

“Told you it was a bluff,” says Seiders, confidently. It is the last thing he ever says.

“Goodbye.”

The Rumor explodes into a fireball of flame, a wave of heat like a wall slamming outwards, causing Park and McCabe to cringe back. Smoke pours from the blackened skeleton of the ship, and Park and McCabe choke and gasp for air.

“Holy—” McCabe manages.

Park switches on his walkie-talkie, though he’d be surprised if that explosion wasn’t heard across half of the complex. “Agent Park to Major General Frederick: the Rumor just… just self-destructed, taking out all of Team Two.” He doesn’t have to fake the defeated bitterness in his voice.

“We’ve been set up,” the Major General states grimly.

“Major General—” McCabe interjects, coughing. “In order for Jeeter to- set off the sequence, he must’ve had an eyeline to the ship. He’s got to be somewhere nearby.”

Park takes a moment to reflect on how much more difficult executing the Plan would be if the IGR had the common sense to put McCabe in a position of actual leadership.

“There’s no time to worry about that. That blast of heat means they’ve just set a swarm of rebooted nanoswarm on the loose. We need to secure the lab – now. Park, McCabe – go.”

As they move off, McCabe takes one last look at the remains of the Rumor, their expression haunted and shellshocked as the reality of what just happened to Team Two starts to sink in.

Goddamn it, Park, you had one fucking job, Park thinks, bitterly. He touches them on the arm, gently, and McCabe jumps as they come out of their trance.

“Come on,” he says in a low voice. “Let’s get out of here.”

Krejjh getting shot was not part of the Plan.

Well, okay, there were something like forty different versions of the Plan, which meant that technically most things were part of the Plan at some point. But Krejjh getting shot was not in the ideal version of the Plan (the one where things went well).

Neither the Rumor crew’s planning nor Park’s recollection of the lab security had accounted for the sheer number of guards stationed throughout the first floor of Advance Labs. Park thinks that the original plan had been for Arkady to take out any guards she encountered en route to Lab 1032 while Krejjh found a hiding place, but instead, the Dwarnian appears to be acting as a distraction: a loud, flashy, defiant, poetry-reciting distraction.

“What am I? I am your enemy incarnate! I am the dizzying swoop as gravity surrenders!”

McCabe motions for Park to be quiet as they steal towards the blind corner that Krejjh is currently careening towards, disabling guards with quick, precise gunshots as they go. Not that it’s really necessary – the Dwarnian is making enough noise to cover any footsteps.

“I am the sick-hot, blinding fire of ignition! Fear blinks before me, and death knows not my name.”

Park sees a look of calm focus come over McCabe’s face that he knows is them going into ‘sniper mode’. There’s nothing he can do to prevent this without blowing his cover, and it’s too early. The only good thing is that he knows McCabe won’t shoot to kill – partly because of the treaty, but also because kill shots are not McCabe’s style.

(He knows better than to hope that McCabe might miss, because McCabe never misses).

“I am more than you can possibly imagine! Heck yeah, hahaha- augh!”

Krejjh’s giddy laughter cuts off abruptly as McCabe hits them squarely on the knee. Ouch. Park is no expert on Dwarnian physiology, but if it’s even passingly similar to a human’s, that had to hurt.

“Good shot, McCabe,” Park says approvingly as the two of them round the corner. He’s being sincere – it was an excellent shot, perfectly aimed at a moving target in a way that would disable them without being fatal. “We’ll take it from here, Officer,” he adds, dismissing the remaining, shaken guard. The fewer witnesses they have for whatever is about to happen, the better.

McCabe stands up a little straighter, and Park thinks that there’s some pride mixed in with the triumph in their smile. “So! Krejjh Sh’Eejjhgreb,” they say, bearing down on Krejjh, who is slumped against the corridor wall.

“That’s- not how Dwarnian names work, champ,” Krejjh replies, strained. Park reminds himself that this is a gravely serious situation, and laughing would be totally inappropriate.

“Agent McCabe to Major General Frederick,” McCabe says, activating their walkie-talkie. “We have incapacitated Source D with a bullet to the knee! What is our next course of action?”

“Good work,” replies the Major General – and then she says the one thing that Park has been dreading. “Kill them.”

McCabe falters, the pleased expression on their face giving way to confusion and shock. “Uhh- Ma’am? If we kill a Dwarnian, especially the relative of a high-ranking diplomat…” McCabe’s tone is light, as if they’re expecting – hoping – to be told that this is all a misunderstanding.

“McCabe, your duty is not to ask questions. It’s to follow orders from the ones who know more than you,” Major General replies flatly. Park clenches his jaw, fighting down a surge of irritation and anger just as he’d done every other time a high-ranking member of the Regime spoke condescendingly to himself or his team. Especially his team.

He sees McCabe stiffen, and knows how much this must rankle. McCabe has always been defensive about their age and sensitive to comments about it – or to any implication that they don’t have the experience or the skills to hold the position that they do.

He knows it only makes them more determined to prove everyone wrong, but just for once, Park wishes that McCabe didn’t have to fight for every scrap of recognition, that they didn’t need to be ten times better than everyone else just to get noticed. He wants a way out of the IGR for both of them – not just for himself.

“Are we clear?” asks the Major General, and Park makes his decision.

“We’re clear, Ma’am,” he says.

To their credit, Krejjh immediately starts to play along, attempting to make a call to Brian Jeeter as if they know that this could be the last thing they will ever do. Park draws his gun and points it at their head, and their voice trails away.

“Agent Park?” McCabe asks, sounding shocked.

“Listen,” says Park, keeping his gun levelled at Krejjh but looking McCabe straight in the eyes. He has one shot at trying to communicate to McCabe what’s happening – to try and get them to understand.

If McCabe objects, or otherwise raises the alarm, the whole Plan will be shot to hell. But Park doesn’t think they will.

“My time at Zone Z reminded me why I signed up in the first place – why we do this work,” Park says with deliberate emphasis. “Keep the stakes in mind, and everything becomes simple. Stand back, McCabe.”

McCabe backs away several steps, still staring at Park numbly, as if they can’t quite comprehend what is about to happen.

Park may have recently lost an eye, but he knows his aim is still true. He used to practice shooting with one eye or the other closed, or with both eyes shut, because you never knew what conditions you might encounter in battle.

He’s not a patch on McCabe, but he doesn’t need to be for this.

Park squeezes the trigger twice, and two bullets embed themselves into the wall next to Krejjh’s head. Krejjh makes a choked-off noise and slumps down, then winks at McCabe, putting a finger to their lips.

McCabe is staring at Park like they’ve never seen him before. “You…”

“Humankind, McCabe,” says Park. It’s his last chance to try and explain. “That’s why we do what we do.”

“Agent Park?” McCabe asks in disbelief. But they haven’t given him away. To Major General Frederick, listening in on the whole exchange, it will just sound like the disbelief of a naive young Agent who has never witnessed bloodshed before.

Park had faith that they wouldn’t – it’s why he was prepared to gamble everything on this moment. But it still causes a warm feeling to spread through his chest as he activates his walkie-talkie again.

“Agent Park to Major General Frederick. It’s done.”

“Perfect.” Major General Frederick’s satisfaction practically oozes through the speaker. He imagines that she’s congratulating herself on the decision to send Park back to work – such a dedicated agent, such a loyal subject of the Regime. Everything that happened to him in Zone Z has only made him more focused and deadly. “Find a handcart, and bring the body down to Lab 1008. And don’t get too close – they’re still infected with the strain H nanoswarm.”

Park takes grim satisfaction in the fact that he’s directly working to undermine her toxic, fascist regime. He intends to be very deadly indeed.

“We’re aware, Major General. Roger that.”

Park retrieves a handcart from a storage cupboard halfway along the corridor and wheels it over to Krejjh, who grins as they hoist themself onto it. McCabe stands and watches them, looking extremely conflicted – presumably between their gut instinct and what they know is protocol.

It would be very easy for them to go for their gun right now and shoot him, or Krejjh, or both and claim that they didn’t act sooner because they were waiting to catch him with his guard down. But they don’t.

Park wheels the handcart around and looks at McCabe. He wants to ask them to come with him, but he has no idea how things are going to turn out after this, and McCabe is capable of making their own decisions about what to do. He hopes they’ll decide to lay low out of sight, then devise a plausible alibi – or better yet, use the confusion to escape.

“You’d better get out of here, McCabe,” he says in an undertone, before wheeling the handcart past, Dwarnian passenger and all.

Park wasn’t lying earlier about their saying from the war – about sacrifices and the big picture. It kept him going through the waking nightmare of Zone Z, and it’s kept him going since. But the big picture is only half of what makes it worth the fight.

He hopes that he’ll see McCabe again.

#tscosi #the strange case of starship iris #ficlet #Agent Park #RJ McCabe #Agent McCabe #Krejjh #Starship Iris episode 10 #spoilers #this turned out kind of shippy?#which wasn't the intent although I'm 100% on board with agentshipping #but I like leaving these things open #also I dig queerplatonic Park and McCabe #but in any case #feeeeeeels

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hellzyeahthewebwieldingavenger · 6 years ago

Text

Why I don’t like the current direction for J. Jonah Jameson

Let me start by saying I love Jonah’s character a lot so I’m not trying to make him out to be a bad character in this.

I know a lot of people like it and regard going back on it as regression but hear me out.

I do not know that Jonah hating Spider-Man is necessarily better or worse than what we have now.

My objections are that how we got to this point and Jonah’s general attitude is....really nonsensical.

Frankly one of the worst things a storyteller can do is write characters out of character. Sure there can be small missteps which can be forgiven, but in this case Spider-Man unmasking to Jonah and his genera reaction to learning that truth is simply not how these characters would ever act in the context of that situation. And we know this because in case you have forgotten...we’ve been here before.

Once upon a time before Jonah ever knew Peter was Spider-Man we could only honestly speculate on how he would react.

However anyone believed or theorised he might take that news, there was little-no stories that really gave you a hard idea about that. There was no precedence at all or anything that could maybe give us a clue to how he’d react.

And the big question at the heart of how he might react was whether Jonah’s hatred for Spider-Man was more powerful than any affection he held for Peter Parker.

In 2006-2007 as part of the Civil War event we got the answer to that question and therefore got precedence for how Jonah would react to learning Peter’s secret.

And the answer was quite clear, Jonah’s hatred for Spidey WAS stronger than his affection for Peter. Your personal headcanons prior to that story do not matter, it was established as part of actual canon Spider-Man stories that this was how Jonah felt and reacted.

There could be some leeway if Jonah’s reaction was wildly out of character, like if there were older stories heavily defining him in such a way that his reaction didn’t add up.

But the thing was...most older stories supported how he reacted. His reaction DID make sense.

I’m not saying it would have been unbelievable for Jonah to have been in some way sympathetic towards Peter, but frankly it was just much more likely that Jonah’s hatred of Spidey would win out.

If we take a look at Jonah’s history with Spider-Man it isn’t the case that over time he could be viewed as almost obsessed with him and having something of a vendetta against him. He simply WAS obsessed with him and DID have a vendetta, he had a great big Spider-Man blindspot and mental trigger that rarely ever allowed him to NOT get angry about Spider-Man and NOT slander him or contort the truth against him.

This isn’t the by-product of lazy and repetitive writing over many decades either. This is simply Jonah’s ACTUAL character. He was like that in the 1960s when Stan Lee and Steve Ditko were writing him! they even went to far as to provide a basic motivation for WHY Jonah felt as he did: jealousy. Even if you wanted to say that was just zany 1960s writing that wasn’t all that realistic and as nuanced as later standards, the fact is Jonah was consistent in that portrayal in the 1970s and the 1980s. In the 1980s even when acclaimed and beloved Spider-Man writers like Roger Stern, Tom DeFalco and Peter David wrote Jameson, giving him more layers, making him more sympathetic and a core of human decency, he STILL had a great big Spider-Man hate boner.

In the 1960s for absolutely no justifiable reason he began a smear campaign against Spider-Man ruining his show business career and that was his intention. He funded the creation of super villains and spider slayers (who endangered public safety, which Jonah never seemed to consider beforehand) and continued doing so well into the 1980s. He didn’t even publicly own up to creating Scorpion until the 1980s when he was being blackmailed into keeping it quiet. Jameson funded the second Mysterio to dress up like a known criminal, drive Spider-Man out of his mind and skipped town when Mysterio was jailed to avoid any consequences. And throughout his career he near consistently smeared Spider-Man’s name deliberately engaging in libellous distortions of the truth to paint him in as negative a light as possible.

Jonah CLEARLY had serious mental issues with Spider-Man. And no one just gets over that as quickly (if at all) meaning Jonah’s reaction in Civil War made a lot of sense and his reaction Zdarsky’s run outright unbelievable for how humans simply act.

Systemically throughout all his Spider-Man hate campaigns, for all the affection he might have had for Peter he really wasn’t the best of friends he could have been to him. Even though he was a kid, even though he knew his uncle was dead and his aunt was old and sickly Jonah routinely continued to underpay Peter, insult him and scream his head off at him. True, he did this with almost everyone, but that doesn’t change the fact that he still did this. In the 1960s he put on a show of kindness towards Peter and his aunt at his graduation specifically to convince Peter to stay with the Bugle so he wouldn’t lose any money.

Yes later on in say the 1990s he secretly paid for Peter’s legal defence during the Clone Saga and offered him a staff job at the Bugle. But none of that renders his negative reaction in Civil War unbelievable. Like I said it was just a case of did he care more about Peter than he hated Spider-Man and we learned that no he didn’t. This is corroborated in Brand New Day.

During the former, Jonah got Peter blacklisted from being a photographer after Peter doctored some photos to exonerate Jonah of a crime he didn’t commit. Now it was very OOC for Peter to do that in the first place, but Jonah’s reaction wasn’t. Jonah was furious with Peter faking photos of Spider-Man and Electro being one and the same in the 1960s he intended to fire Peter and in spite of his youth intended to actually SUE him (further supporting his reaction in Civil War). Jonah very publicly humiliated and screwed over Peter, destroying Peter’s primary/only source of income. And he did this whilst knowing Peter had limited income and technically via marriage being Peter’s relative. He didn’t try to help Peter after the fact either. Indirectly due to Jonah Peter got a job at HORIZON labs but that was ONLY because Marla recognized his talent and helped get his foot in the door. Jonah after Marla’s death tried to shut down HORIZON labs and thereby by extension destroy another of Peter’s jobs. For Jonah his grief over Marla’s death along with his hypocritical journalistic ethics were MORE important than any affection he held for Peter Parker. They were absolutely not closer after their parental figures got married. IIRC Jonah even blamed Peter for his father’s death but correct me if I have got that wrong.

But lets return to Civil War.

During Civil War, Jonah slandered Peter in the presses and sued him. He didn’t care that this was his friend, a young man he’s known most of his life, who’s been through much pain and tragedy who as Spider-Man has saved his life repeatedly along with his family members, friends and staff. He was angry at being humiliated by him and felt betrayed, but amidst all this he first and foremost saw him as that menace Spider-Man who got one over on him, not as the decent kid he knew who must not actually be the menace he thought he was.

As if suing him was not bad enough, Jonah went further. He sought out Peter’s old girlfriend Deb Whitman when she was out of work and her mother was seriously ill and exploited her by providing an author to write a biased, twisted account of her relationship with Peter Parker/Spider-Man in order to further tear him down in the public eye.

When his close friend Joe Robertson called Jonah out for continuing to punch down on the now fugitive Peter Parker when his aunt was in the hospital, Jonah fired him.

Furthermore in Peter David’s final issue of Friendly Nieghborhood Spider-Man Peter and Jonah confront one another in the wake of Peter’s identity going public. Peter allows Jonah to hit him as much as he likes to get his anger out and insults him to get him to react. Jonah repeatedly punched Peter in the face! Now sure, he did admit that it was easier to hate Spider-Man when he didn’t know he was Peter, but that wasn’t him saying he DIDN’T hate him. Again...he hit him repeatedly in the face.

And on top of that the issue ends with Jonah

a) Admitting that he was only dropping his lawsuit and smear campaign because he realized Peter on some level wanted to be punished for his mistakes and Jonah didn’t like being used

b) Admitting that he doesn’t mind tearing down and humiliating Peter/Spider-Man so long as Peter doesn’t help him to do it

c) Literally saying and I quote: “I really hate that F.N. Spider-Man.”

Pretty clear cut ain’t it.

Jonah’s hate for Spider-Man>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>Jonah’s affection for Peter.

So when we find ourselves at this point in time where Jonah finds out Peter is Spider-Man and IIRC pretty much immediately reacts by becoming an ally and confidant to Peter, viewing him first and foremost as his friend Peter Parker and not the menace he believed Spider-Man to be, he is very aggressively NOT in character. He is very aggressively NOT acting the way his established characetrization dictates he would act in that situation.

This stuff isn’t a minor little back up story, it was a big part of TWO concurrent ongoing event stories (Civil War-Back in Black). You can’t ignore this stuff.

There are those who would say that Jonah’s situation in Zdarsky’s run is different so his different reaction is justified. The problem with this is that you can’t just handwave any given difference in context as justifying any different reaction, they have to add up.

So would Jonah when his wife is dead, when he’s lost the Bugle, lost his major public respect, lost his father, lost his adoptive daughter and straight up admits that his hatred for Peter is ALL he has in his life REALLY react more positively and sympathetically to learning Peter is Spider-Man than he did when his fortunes were the exact opposite of all of that.*

Absolutely not! That is wholly unrealistic.

If all he has in his life IS his outright pathological hatred for Spider-Man then suddenly finding out Spider-Man is the guy he partially blames for the death of his father, didn’t like that much, ripped off for years and whom he cared so little for he took away his source of work even though he HELPED Jonah, would never ever make Jonah DROP his hatred.

If Jonah reacted the way he did in Civil War when his life was going well then he’d react WORSE nowdays when it’s going worse!

Then we come to Peter revealing his identity in the first place.

This is aggressively stupid and even more out of character than Jonah’s opposite reaction during Civil War.

Given Jonah’s pathological crusade against Peter, given how Jonah blacklisted him, tried to further destroy him during Civil War, JJJ’s funding robots and super villains and just everything he knows about Jonah, its both irresponsibly risky to his loved ones and wholly unrealistic for Peter to EVER reveal his secret to Jonah.

Consider ALL the people Peter knows who have proven themselves more friendly, trustworthy and over all loyal to him whom he DIDN’T reveal his identity to.

Flash Thompson

Betty Brant

Aunt Anna

Joe Robertson

Felicia Hardy (before she went psycho in Slott’s run)

Oh and you know AUNT MAY!

ALL of those people had proven their friendship and loyalty to Peter when they used to know his identity and for some of them even before that.

But he didn’t, and in some cases, has continued to keep them all in the dark...but he told Jonah?!

That’s incredibly out of character and nuclear levels illogical. It makes even less sense than you know...Jonah not remembering that he USED to know Peter’s identity. Remember how Slott established that unmasking in front of someone would immediately restore their memories from before the Mindwipe? Well guess what, Zdarsky et al just IGNORED that for Jonah because that’s just wonderful writing right there.

I get that Jonah going back to not knowing would be a regression. I get that this new direction is new and fresh because it’s never been done before.

But the thing is regression isn’t always a bad thing and something new and fresh isn’t always a good thing.

In the Clone Saga Peter had developed into a grimdark mentally broken anti hero which was something never done before. It was executed competently in so far as it was realistic, made sense and had a lot of thematic and psychological layers to it. And it was new, shiny and fresh!. But is anyone really going to argue that regressing him back to being the mentally stable more optimistic Spider-Man was a BAD thing?

No.

I’m not saying regressing Jonah back to not knowing would be a good thing, but I am saying his characterization after he found out was a bad thing because this is not who he is. If another story tried to better explain and justify it in some way, maybe.

But frankly I find the entire idea that Jonah would so quickly pull a 180 on his decades long attitude to Spider-Man frankly BS.

*What is worse is that the story itself outright ignores the fact that Jonah HASN’T lost everything in his life, he still has his pride and joy his son John. For years Jonah persevered thanks to and for his son John, with implications that it was because of his son John being overlooked that he hated Spider-Man in the first place. So Jonah hasn’t even lost everything as he claims!

Also Jonah hated Spider-Man back when the only relative he had was his son!

#Spider-Man #J. Jonah Jameson #Peter Parker #Betty Brant #Aunt May #May Parker #Flash Thompson #Mysterio #Civil War 2006 #Marvel Civil War 2006 #Marvel Civil War #Joe Robertson #Chip Zdarsky

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a-pitifulchild · 7 years ago

Text

Thirty years ago

A/n: so it's just a little. Thing explaining how did professor Hidgens got to the conclusion that the world will become a musical. I made him have a twin because i wanted too. Enjoy.

~1988~

Professor Hidgens sat in his office. As he sat there, he stared at the wall, thinking of this new theory he had. That the world would become a musical. He wanted to share this with someone, but he knew no one would believe him. He kept trying to think of a way this would happen - crazy actor inventing the technology such a think would take? dead musical starts rising from their graves? Demons? Aliens invading minds? So many ways, yet so little sense. After a week of debating on the subject, he came to the conclusion this would happen in 30 years from that exact day. He wrote in his journal the reminder. According to his calculations, he'll need 27 years to stock up on all the bear assencials - food, water, music records, booz.

A knock on the door cut off his train of thoughts. “Henry!” A 25 year old girl smiled at him. She had the same blue eyes he had, and same black hair as well. “Hope” he noded at her. He loved his twin, he really did, but sometimes she showed up at the worst moments. “I got you something!” She smiled at him, ignoring his cold tone. “And that'll be…” he asked, getting up. “These!” She said, exited, waving with two pices of paper in her hands. “it's two tickets to “Into The Woods”! The touring production is coming to the Starlight theater! I would love to come with you, but if want to give the second ticket to someone else--” the excitement in her voice seemed to annoyed her twin brother, as he cut her off. “Hope, please. My musical theater days are over. You should go with, uh, what’s-her-face, that friend of yours? Carrie? Marry?-” “Henry!” she called, and he stopped talking. “What?” he asked. “I want to go with you. The fact you are a professor doesn't mean you can't like musicals. It's your true passion, Henry, and i'm not going to sit and watch you force yourself out of this. So you're coming with me, okay?” She said, annoyed. Her twin was a stubborn, but he had common sense, he knew that she is not going to give up until he said yes, and he wanted her out of hia office so he can keep theorising the world becoming a musical. “Fine, i'll go with you” he sighed, and she smiled, satisfied. “Now can you please leave?” He asked.

She looked at him, kind of hurt and mostly shocked. “Henry Hidgens! I don't understand you. I'm your twin, who just got you tickets to what used to be your favorite musical, up until last week! You haven't touched your piano, you haven't sang-” she said, stopping herself once she realised she just raised her voice on him over what seemed to bother no one else but her. He looked at her, clearly upset. “I'm fine, Hope. Ok? Just trying to be series and get my shit together instead of chasing an unreachable goal-” “is that even a word, Henry?” “It is” he replied, “i'm not you, and you're not me, so stop pretending being my twin means you can understand me”. His words stung her worse then a bee. “Look, Henry, i’m not forcing you to do anything. It's just that… recently you've been… distant. I’m just wondering if everything’s okay” she said. He gave her a small smile. “It's ok-” “no it's not, Henry. I can tell. Please tell me what's going on” she begged him, and he sighed. He knew she might believe him, she is the only person who will.

“Ok, fine, if you insist” he said, and grabbed the pages from his desk. He flipped through them as he spoke, trying to find a blank one. “Well, last week i had a thought. What if the world will become a musical?” He said. She looked at him strangely. “I know, I sound crazy but let me explain. You see, everyone thinks the apocalypse will be scary, but it makes so much more sense for it to be something we won't find scary, that way it can infect us all much quicker and no one will suspect it! You see, the universe is smarter than killing us all using what we already saw in movies”. He finally noticed a blank page and grabbed a pen. “See, this is our world” he said, drawing a circle. “Ok..” she said, confused. “Now, the end of the world is going to come, eventually” he said, “i think it's not going to explode. A zombie apocalypse is more likely! The universe needs planet earth, it's a part of it's balance” he added as he drew more and more circles Hope assumed were the other planets. He poked a hole on the middle, where the “earth” was, and ripped the paper easily. “You understand?” He asked, looking at Hope as he made the ripped paper into a ball and threw it behind his shoulder. She nodded slowly, even more concerned for her brother. “Well, we won't be surprised by a Zombie apocalypse. People are more prepared to that, which means it won't destroy the human race. If the end will come with something unpleasant, we will fight it. So it has to be something who no one sees as evil, as a threat to the human kind! No one will suspect something innocent. So i say - a musical. No one hates musicals, therefore no one will be scared by the sudden singing and dancing, in fact they will want to join in! Heck, i would want to join in!” he said. “I don't understand what is so bad about it? Don't you remember that song you wrote, 'if my life was a musical’? It sounds like a dreamy situation!” Hope said, confused, trying to go along with the craziness of her beloved twin. “Think about the implications, Hope! Think!” He screamed, grabbing her shoulders.she stared at him, kind of scared. “Henry, love, are you sure you are okay?” She asked. “Yes, yes. Sorry, i got carried away” he mumbled, giving her a tap on the shoulder and went back to his chair. “Well, Henry, i'll see you tonight at the Starlight theater. Eight o'clock, be there!” She smiled. “Eight o'clock can't come soon enough” she added on her way out. His eyes wandered to his computer. “Working boys: a new musical”. Well, he had a musical to write, tests to check and an apocalypse to prepare to, so he better get going.

Masterlist

#tgwdlm #the guy who didn't like musicals #professor Hidgens #henry hidgens #robert manion

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kierongillen · 8 years ago

Note

As i’ve seen this happen more than once, what goes through your mind when a big plot twist or piece of the puzzle gets unintentionally spoiled by the fans theorizing the future of the book? Does the rest of the story gets put on temporary hold to try to figure out how to write something new or is the story set in stone no matter what may happen? If someone were to spoil the ending of the entire book completely unintentionally and you were able to experience the reaction, will it change a thing?

Oh, god, no. Never change anything if someone’s guessed something. Nothing good lies in that direction.

Why?

Okay, let’s talk - with no specifics - Game of Thrones. If you go into the depths of fandom, Game of Thrones is - to some degree, in some areas - a solved problem. There’s a good selection of fan theories (some of which have come to fruition) which have so much meat on them it was clear they have to happen, or the book would break its structure and become unsatisfying.

These twists are available to anyone who wishes to google for them.

The vast majority of people don’t. So… why change the direction of the story? What’s the point of fucking over the enjoyment of the vast majority of people (i.e. making your story make less sense, as you’re abandoning the already existent thread) for playing gotcha on a tiny fraction of your audience?

(As a quick aside - compare and contrast theorising in a fanbase with actual events in the text that’s being adapted. Clearly, anyone who is watching GoT could have googled the synopsis of the book. Equally, anyone who’s read the books knows the big beats. Does the adaptation change the big beats? If surprise to everyone in your audience is all that mattered, you would. We don’t.)

It’s also worth noting that, while obviously some complain on the nature of the adaptation, most fans of a book generally complain that they wish it was more like the book. In other words, things that surprised them (i.e. differed from their knowledge of the text) were less satisfying. They wanted to see the big dramatic beats, even if they’re stripped of their surprise.

Surprise only matters the first time you read something. For me, any worthwhile piece of literature exists to be re-read, and will open up more upon re-reading. In other words, knowing the twist should add to the re-reading of the book. If it doesn’t, and renders the story less than it was, it’s probably a bad twist - which is one reason why I don’t tend to call them “Plot twists” to myself. I call them reveals. The plot doesn’t contort. It’s merely revealing something in the nature of the world the reader was unaware of.

(As an aside, this means that someone who has guessed successful the direction of the plot is actually effectively skipping to their second read of the book earlier.)

There’s the other side of this as well - not just whether a plot beat has been guessed, but the almost inevitability of a plot beat being guessed. GoT fans have had twenty years to puzzle this out. In that period, a mass communication device emerged which allowed fans to talk to one another and share ideas. This machine would have torn apart any plot.

No one individual needs to guess anything. People can make one step in a chain, and then that step is exposed to thousands of minds. If even one of them can make the intuitive leap to the next step, then it continues. No one person needs to be clever enough to see the whole thing. The internet hivemind is Miss Marple, seeing through the most contorted of machinations.

(In passing, this is one reason why Alternate Reality Games are hard to do, because the mass hive mind will figure almost anything out, almost instantly. Equally in passing, the failure to understand this is another reason why Ready Player One is bad, but that’s irrelevant.)

In other words, the reason why twists are guessable is the same reason they are satisfying. A twist that isn’t foreshadowed sufficiently to give the possibility of being guessed by someone is not a satisfying twist, as it - by definition - came out of nowhere.

To make this specific to my own work. In the case of the biggest and most intricate of my current books, WicDiv, we sell about 18k in monthlies and sell 18k in trades (in the first month of release). That’s our hardcore devoted readership. How many people of them actually read the essays in the WicDiv tags? I’d say 500 at the absolute maximum, and likely a lot less. So for a maximum of 1.3% of our readership, we’d derail a still effective twist for everyone else? No, that would be a bad call.

Especially - and this is key - the people who have chosen to engage with a fandom are aware that they may figure something out. They are trying to figure something out. Why take that pleasure away from them?

In a real way, I think, in long form narrative, pure plot twists which no-one in the world guesses are dead in the Internet age, at least when dealing with any even vaguely popular work of art. You can do them in short form narratives (like a single novel, a single movie and perhaps a streaming TV show they drop in one go) but for anything where you give a fanbase the chance to think, it’s just not going to happen. A creator should be glad their work is popular enough to have enough fans to figure it out.

Yes, I may have overthought this.

But that’s only half the question.

How do I actually feel when someone guesses something that’s going to happen? Well, this is long enough already. Let’s put the personal stuff beneath a cut…

I’d say you sigh “Oh, poop”and shrug.

And then you get over your ass, because you know all the above is true. Writers are often meglomaniacs who think they can control everyone’s response to their work. We don’t. We can’t control everything. We can barely control anything. We really have to let go. I’ve said WicDiv is a device to help me improve as a person? It would include in this area. I have to learn to let it go, and internalise all of the above. If I can make most of my readership have the vague emotional response I’m looking for, I’m winning.

I’ve mostly succeeded at this. I’m certainly better than I was 2 years ago.

(’ll probably write more about spoilers and twists and stuff down the line. I’d note that setting up twists that *are* easily guessable by the hardcore is part of the methodology. Having a nice big twist foreshadowed heavily is a good way to hide another twist behind it. “Hey - pay attention to this less subtle sleight of hand while I perform the actual sleight of hand over here.”In which case, there’s far less of an Oh Poop response and more of a cackling evil mastermind response.)

The sigh can occasionally be accompanied with a “Hmm. I wouldn’t have posted that” or - more likely - “I wouldn’t have posted that THERE.”

To stress, what follows, isn’t about my work per se, but culture generally, and very much personal. This is stuff which good friends disagree with me on.

As a fan, I never tweet my own fan theories. I only tweet joke ones. Even my crack theories I don’t tweet, as they’re normally so bizarre that if they actually DO happen, I wouldn’t want to take the thrill away from people. Even in person in conversation I make sure we’re going into a deep fan hole before sharing them, aware that they may be true.

In a real way, the more likely I think something is true, the less likely I’ll say it. As this is my job, I tend to see basic structural ways stories are heading way in advance of most people. I’m a composer. I know how music works. You have a vague sense of what way they’ll go.

(One day I’ll write down my crack theory for the end of the previous Game of Thrones season. Maybe after next season, as it’s not impossible that they may end up doing it, though it’s increasingly unlikely.)

If I had a really good theory I’ve gathered evidence for? You can guarantee I’d put it beneath a cut. That’s the stuff which bemuses me. It’s a cousin of posting major spoilers about any piece of culture the day it comes. The worst is one regular twitter trope - I’m always bemused when people do a “Calling it! XYZ will happen” tweet. Which strikes me a little like standing up in the cinema 20 minutes into a film and shouting out that you’ve guessed the ending. This ties back to the stuff I wrote above about twists being less effective in the modern age, except in a place you can control the context and conversation. People may message in movies, but they rarely message everyone in the room.

(In passing, as it’s vaguely on topic - you may remember the research from a few years ago saying people who know a twist enjoy the story more than people who don’t know a twist. Even this is true - and a single study should always get an eye-brow raise - but it strikes me as a confusion over what “enjoy” means. All pleasure isn’t equivalent, and you can only have surprise on your first time through a work of art. That’s novelty. You can have that and then gain the “Not surprise” experience second time through. If you spoil a work, it means the “novelty” experience is something you will never have. You may enjoy something more if you know the twist but you can always rewatch it to get that pleasure. If you’re spoiled, the individual specific pleasure of that first watch has been stolen.)

But that’s conversation of social mores. Really, it doesn’t change anything in terms of how we act… and sometimes, I even grin when someone gets a twist in advance. If someone gets it, great. The machine is working as intended. It’s actually kind of worrying if no-one is thinking something is up in an area you’ve set up to be iffy. And… the alternative is worse - hell, there’s buried twists and details in Young Avengers that no-one’s managed to figure out yet.

Twist ending: oh, no, I was a ghost all along.

#writer advice #WicDiv #Journey Into Mystery #young avengers

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if-only-we-could-read-it · 8 years ago

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( @ava-burton-writing you mentioned wanting to know more about my oc’s, so I hope you don’t mind me tagging you in this!)

It’s occurred to me (or, rather, it did occur to me, twelve days ago, when I started writing this post) that aside from a few responses to asks, I haven’t actually explained what prov is, or who anyone in it is. Which, considering I’m a writblr, and I made this blog to talk about my wips and oc’s, literally makes no sense. So here’s a post on Prov:

<!—more—>

What is Prov?

‘Prov’, short for ‘The Provect Gene’, is my current (main) wip. It’s a YA sci-fi set in a ‘post-dystopian’ society with a (large) ensemble cast.

It’s ‘history’: It’s been building in the back of my brain for so long I can’t actually remember when I first came up with the idea. I do remember making a wattpad and debating uploading it, but instead using the account to read other people’s works and to make notes and write extracts for other works I had planned (including fanfiction). Eventually, some of my friends discovered and decided to write their own books, so I decided to write Prov at the same time. Initially, it was called Psykes, short for Psysimalae (or something like that), for some reason, was written in first person despite being a multipov book, and a lot of the characters were clearly my attempt at just inserting my friends into the book (I didn’t even… change their names…) instead of the half fleshed characters I wanted. It as nothing like what I envisioned and was so badly planned and written that I literally gave up. I tried several times to come back to it and couldn’t because the quality of writing was so poor and there was so many inconsistencies in the story. Considering I could write pretty well at that time, the only thing I could think of is that my desire to get the book written fast/at the same pace as my friends overruled my ability to write. Eventually, after years of continuing to write the story in my mind, I came back to it and started to write it properly.

Summary (that started off ridiculous and somehow got serious at the end): Once upon a time, there was a very rich, very smart, but not particularly nice, man named Cyrus. After years of theorising and making calculations, he came to the conclusion he could create a superpowered race of people for an army. Because he was the kind of person who wants to make superpowered armies. Through coercion, manipulation, lying, the occasional murder and other generally unethical means, he brought the people he wanted to experiment on into his labs and began testing. The only problem was that these people were teenagers, and teenagers are in that in between stage where they’re full of rebelliousness and ‘fight the system’ urges, and didn’t appreciate being locked up and prodded with needles. Eventually one of them who’d figured out he had powers used them to blow up a large portion of the lab, killing some people but freeing many others. The main problem – or, in Cyrus’ case, consolation – was that most of them had not learnt about their powers in the lab, and therefore didn’t know they existed. This made it easier for Cyrus to recapture them. He also managed to spread the word that they were ‘dangerous individuals’, which, in a world that’s fueled by paranoia, has a major impact. So now the police and government are after them too, which isn’t good for them.

The book starts approximately one year after these events, when three small groups of the experiments are forced together, only to discover they have powers. Tired of always hiding and running, they decide it’s time they tried to put a stop to Cyrus and his experiments, and convince everyone that they’re not dangerous. This, along with them trying to figure out their powers, and trying to avoid simply getting caught and thrown back into the tests, make life very hard for them. Along the way, they discover more people like them, and more factors than they ever could have imagined, including corruption that goes far beyond what they thought. Loyalties are questioned, families are torn apart and sanity balances on the edge of a knife. After all, what’s the point of morals if only you stick to them?

Characters

Mains:

Isabelle: Has the power to manipulate light. The literal mother of the group, makes sure everyone eats and sleeps and doesn’t get themselves killed. Knows everybody’s secrets but nobody knows hers. Very sarcastic. Just wants to sleep. Original squad.

Damian*: Can manipulate electricity. Isabelle’s (slightly) younger brother. Kind of an asshole but it’s not intentional. Actually tries to be nice he’s just not used to other people (or their feelings). Very smart. Basically the tactician. Original squad.

Barry: Psychic. Drinks way too much coffee, he’s probably at least 85% caffeine at this point. Hyperactive. Basically the child of the group. Was sick before being taken by Cyptem and missed a lot of schooling. References TV shows a lot. Original squad.

Calypso: Can manipulate water. Very into fashion. Is willing to die for the aesthetic. Seems like the kind of person who in any other situation would have her life together. Isn’t going to let a small thing like people wanting to kill her hold her back. Original squad.

Will: Astral projection. The medic of the group. Wanted to be a doctor. Tries his best. Frequently questions how moral it is to hoard medicinal drugs. The most reasonable of the group. Done with everything. Original squad.

Leo: Can manipulate molecules to cause them to freeze or ignite. Makes a lot of bad jokes. Scared most of the time, but would do anything for his friends. Acts like he knows what’s going on but literally never does. Going through an internal identity crisis. Original squad.

Pyra: Can manipulate her own molecular structure (basically, shapeshift). Smol but could kill you. Took about a million self-defense and fighting lessons. Always ready to fight. Tough exterior, slightly sweeter interior. Original squad.

Beth**: Relationship detection and empathy. Definitely hates you. Virtually unreadable. Good at manipulating people and situations. Thinks she’s the strategist of the team. Pessimistic. Usually right. Smart. Original squad.

Lara: Can teleport. Badass. Basically saves everyone multiple times. Probably better than you at everything. Slightly paranoid. Would kill a man. Acts like she doesn’t like you but secretly would probably die for you. Doesn’t need a squad.

Chris: Telepath and telekinetic. Lived in a cave for like a year. Tries to be skeptical of people to protect himself but can’t resist helping everyone he meets. Uses obscure plants to treat injuries and illnesses. Book two squad.

Matt: Molecular immobilisation. Strong. Good at fighting. Pretends to be quiet and grumpy but is actually a sweet heart. Could crush a rock with his hands. Likes hand-to-hand combat. Finds it funny that people are uncomfortable around him. Book two squad.

Seth: Molecular combustion. Matt’s twin. Not as strong as his brother. Very concerned about Matt’s tendency to get into fights. More prone to panicking in situations. The guy who tries to lean on the wall and act cool only to fall through an open doorway. Book two squad.

Meg: Pain manipulation. Really a nice person but is being manipulated. Starts off hating everyone she meets but warms up to them quickly. Spends a lot of time being used. Doesn’t need anyone else. Technically book two squad, but also doesn’t need a squad.

Cyrus: Can manipulate shadows/darkness. The villain. Spent years trying to prove that superpowers were possible. Loose morals. A good actor. Could probably be a politician with all the lies he makes people believe.

Wyatt: Shield manipulation. Literally a child. Was put through a lot before he was rescued from Cyptem. Is basically adopted by Isabelle. Generally distrustful of people, but very protective of the people he cares about.

Sides

Melody: Sound manipulation. 100% done. Not as mean as she initially seems. Doesn’t like people trying to control her. Would probably become a politician if she didn’t hate the government so much.

Alex: None. Is an intern at Cyptem who discovered what was going on. Is willing to help everyone even though they seem crazy. Has no idea what’s going on most of the time. Spends a lot of his time eyerolling.

Paige: Heat manipulation. Isabelle and Damian’s older sister. Has done very questionable things but is still a good person. Cares about her siblings, but doesn’t show it well. Inadvertently causes drama.

Renee: Illusion manipulation. Also a child. Spends more time in Cyptem than Wyatt. Likes to draw. Hard to explain without spoilers.

Amara: Fear manipulation. Cyrus’s right-hand women. Cold blooded. Willing to apply whatever force is necessary to get the job done – and in this case that involves helping get the kids back in and figure out how to make them more compliant.

*The spelling of Damian has been a bit iffy through the years. When I initially wrote Prov, my friends asked if I’d spelled it wrong, and implied it wasn’t meant to be spelled the way it should. eventually, I changed the spelling, but I kept getting muddled up between the two. Then I went, ‘screw it, my character, my spelling’ - except I’d forgotten which was the original spelling. So for a while I just alternated between the two before settling on ‘Damian’.

**Beth’s name has been subject to repeated change. Initially she was called Beth after someone I knew, and didn’t like, but who was part of my friendship group so I felt obliged to include. When I rewrote it, I changed her name along with everyone else’s, and she became Ellie. Except ‘Beth’ always fit her more so I eventually changed it back, before realising that meant I have a ‘Beth’ and a ‘Seth’ - who also have quite a lot of interaction, which is very important to the plot. I put my foot down at changing Seth’s name, so chances are, Beth is going to become Ellie, or some other not-Beth name.

Tags: Prov tag, Isabelle, Damian/also-Damian, Barry, Calypso, Will, Leo, Pyra, Beth, Lara, Chris, Seth, and Matt. (Some characters have a lot more information in their tags than others, because I’m inconsistent with tagging. Which is going to change from this post on. Meg, Cyrus, Wyatt and the side characters do not yet have tags.)

So, there, finally: my wip and its characters laid out. So now when I talk about it, people will actually know what I’m talking about.

#prov tag #Isabelle #beth #damian #leo #calypso #will #barry #pyra #lara #chris #matt #seth #writing #my writing #my wip #writblr

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forthemultiverse · 8 years ago

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Tim Drake Dating a Famous Musician

- You met because both of you had broken your laptops and trying to get them fixed at the same shop.

- You had argued for ten minutes about who needed their laptop more, you were mixing tracks for your EP and prepping for a gig that night.

- He had been banned from patrol after managing to make coffee explode in his bedroom, yes explode. Last time Tim is allowed a coffee machine in his room.

- Since he had nothing else to do, he decided to check out your gig. See if it was really worth arguing with him over.

- He was extremely impressed.

- You saw him in the audience and sent someone to bring him backstage after you’d finished.

- You wanted his opinion, since he thought he was so much better than you in the electronics shop. You also wanted to gloat that he was now at one of your shows after being so rude.

- He apologised and just said he was coffee and sleep deprived earlier. He also thought you were really cool.

- You had forgiven him because he was cute.

- Once he was back at the manor, he went into research mode.

- Since his personal laptop was out, he decided to use the bat computer.

- His family found his staring at the giant screens when they came back from patrol.

- Surprisingly, it was Damian who instantly knew who you were.

- “Why is Drake researching Y/N Y/L/N?”

- “You know her?” he spun the chair to face them all.

- “Stephanie made me watch video’s with her on YouTube, we found Y/N and I’m a subscriber. What’s it to you?”

- “I met her, insulted her, and went to one of her shows.”

- “Idiot.” Damian tutted and disappeared.

- “The computer is mission use and research, not for crushes.” Bruce pursed his lips.

- “It’s not a crush!”

- “She’s pretty.” Dick smiled at the screen. Tim felt himself glare. “Yep, he’s crushing.”

- “I barely know her!”

- That evening, he subscribed to you on YouTube and followed you on twitter.

- You tagged him in a tweet a few minutes later and the internet went wild.

- You spent the entire evening tweeting meme’s and messages to each other.

- The fanfiction was already writing itself.

- You tweeted a picture of some fan art you found.

- “Now I feel dumb for not knowing he was Timothy Drake-Wayne!” you had tweeted.

- He went to another of your gigs in Gotham and waited for you after the show.

- The pictures went wild and you asked him out for coffee

- “To make sure you don’t end up coffee deprived again.” you had smirked.

- When your career went really big, everyone thought you’d break up.

- Tours and recording sessions kept you really busy all of the time.

- But, neither of you had lived in the same town before anyway. You were used to the long-distance relationship.

- Tim goes to at least one show a month. He wanted to do more but you thought he would get bored so banned him.

- You make sure to attend whatever event he wants you at, no matter your schedule. You’ll work around it.

- Damian and Stephanie had nearly lost it when you first visited the manor. Sure they’d seen the tabloids and the tweets, but they didn’t think you were actually dating.

- Damian had been both mean and overly sweet to you, not sure how to act in front of someone he thought was cool.

- You’ll always send Tim the instrumental versions of your songs over the lyrical ones.

- He likes to listen to them whilst he works and lyrics could distract him, plus it means when you do show him the full song it’s kind of a surprise.

- Whenever it’s a special event for the other, they’re that celebrity couple that either post the worst photos of each other or crop the other half out of the frame.

- You have written songs about Tim before, and he’s helped you write a few of them too.

- Tim loves watching you play instruments, whether it’s cello, guitar, drums, or just track mixing. He says your concentration face is cute.

- Whenever he has nightmares about his lost friends, you sing him to sleep.

- When he told you he was Red Robin, you wrote out your feelings. It was a mixture of sadness and confusion.

- You didn’t want to tell him to stop, but you felt conflicted about knowing he could die out there. You were slightly upset he hadn’t told you sooner but you’d seen enough superhero movies to understand the reasoning.

- Red Flying Through the Night was one of your most popular songs and everyone was always theorising about what it was about.

- Some people thought you’d had an affair with Red Robin or Red Hood, some people thought Tim had had an affair with them.

- Creating fake gossip was one of your and Tim’s favourite things to do. You never jumped to conclusions or believed the tabloids without talking to the other about some of the stories.

- “Oh my god, Y/N. Can’t you let me have my affair in peace. These heartbreak songs are really ruining my reputation. Just let me make love to Red Hood without interfering.” Tim had said that whilst you two were out getting pizza and the waiter had told the reporters.

- It was now a reporter rule to never take anything either of you say seriously, unless it was an official interview.

- Your favourite time to make music is after Tim and you have had a spare moment to just be together.

- Tim is known as your number one biggest fan and the internet finds it adorable. He is also known as the biggest shipper of you two on all of the internet, happily liking and commenting on fan art.

#Tim Drake #tim drake x reader #tim drake oneshot #tim drake headcanon #Red Robin #red robin x reader #red robin headcanon #batfamily #dc headcanon

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