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whump-a-la-mode · 3 years

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Villian-Sicle | Part 5

I feel like now would be a pertinent time to mention that this is my first attempt at writing a sort of drabble series. The majority of my work is 50k-100k word nerd ass novels, and I think that this part will make that unfortunately abundantly apparent. I’m sorry for just how long it is, but I’ve absolutely loved writing these characters, and I got a little bit carried away with fleshing out the world a bit more ^^

Also, I feel I should probably mention that, though characters in this story speak Latin, I do not know any Latin. I wrote this using dictionaries and very basic grammar guides, and I sincerely hope I did not mess up too bad.

Thank you for reading! It’s a long one, but I hope you’ll enjoy.

CW//Superhero whump, villain whumpee, hypothermia, military setting (kinda), pet whump, dehumanization, past trauma, muzzles, restraints, conditioned whumpee, depiction of an implied panic attack, denial of water

Taglist:

@whatwhumpcomments

@sola-whumping

@professional-idiocy

Villain couldn’t help but shake and buck their head as a corrugation of metal and leather was slipped over their face, securing their jaw in its current position and forcing them to bite down against the pressure. It had been fitted since last time, they noted rather hollowly-- with a piece of padding now standing between the bridge of their noise and the harsh metal wires. Regardless of how many adjustments were made to the piece, however, making it comfortable seemed beyond their ability.

They, in this specific circumstance, referred mainly to the two soldiers before Villain. Trainer was the only one of the two that they knew the name of-- though they were nearly unrecognizable beneath the layers of gear shrouding their appearance.

The helmet they wore resembled more so that of a motorcyclist rather than that of an armed combatant, but the rest of their kit was far more military. Beneath their uniform bulged the clear outlines of a tac-vest, with their hands shielded by Kevlar gloves, constructed of an intricate mesh of triangular pieces, in a similar manner to chain-mail.

The other soldier was dressed in nearly identical kit, just without the gloves-- those were for handlers, which this other soldier must’ve surely not been. They turned to Trainer, noises in an odd language curling off their tongue. Trainer replied with a laugh.

With practiced hands, Trainer took the muzzle’s straps and secured them behind Villain’s head, tightening the metal until it dug into their skin, tearing at old sores created by the same device. Their leash was quickly hooked to a ring protruding from the muzzle’s wires.

“Manibus.” Trainer’s voice spoke. They nearly flinched at the sheer speed at which Villain offered their hands. Momentarily, Trainer ghosted their fingers over the leather mitten restraints that kept Villain’s fine motor abilities under control. They checked the wrist straps, ensuring their tautness, nodding their approval.

“Abeamus?” The other soldier suggested, to which Trainer gave another nod. They wrapped Villain’s leash around their wrist, halving its length, until there was negligible slack in the line.

Another group of soldiers, all dressed in military-style garments of their own, loitered together by the door to the staging room. They looked to Trainer, marginally straightening their postures, and, presumably, minimizing the amount of swearing in their speech.

With a few words and a flick of the wrist, the squadron was off.

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Leader couldn’t stop looking at Villain’s eyes.

They weren’t quite certain what had pulled them into such an odd trance. It was nothing about color, certainly, nor anything else physical or inherent-- they were unremarkable, in such respects. No, it was certainly something about the expression they portrayed.

A moment ago, they’d seen shattering fear turn to fury in these eyes. Now, they seemed blank, as though constructed of glass and merely painted upon. There was no expression beyond them, no recognition, no indication that Villain’s mind was occupied by anything at all. Their gaze stared straight through Leader, through the ceiling above as well.

Leader was torn from their daze by a commotion from behind them as the door was thrown open. Medic was nearly knocked over as Hero burst in, followed more ploddingly by Counselor.

“Be careful.” Leader warned, looking up and turning to the group. “There’s broken shit everywhere.”

Hero’s eyes darted around the room, seemingly taking in the mess. Broken glass coated the tile floor in a thin dusting of shards, while various mechanical parts still smoked in whatever place they had happened to end up. The lights had been blown out completely, leaving the lighting in the room to be provided by a flashlight laid on a countertop, as well as, now, the light soaking in from the hallway.

After their panicked scan, Hero settled their gaze on Villain.

“Are they...”

“They’re fine.” Medic interrupted.

“They’re not moving.”

“Well... I’m going to hazard to say that that’s a good thing. If I had to guess, it seems like a shock response. It’s not exactly my biggest concern, right about now.”

“What about the, uh, bleeding hole in their chest?”

“That would be my biggest concern.”

Medic grabbed a variety of, miraculously undamaged, medical supplies from a cupboard, setting to work at Villain’s wound. It was small, deliberate, having been incised to be used as an access point for the dialysis machine, but Leader had a feeling that even minor blood loss could be a death sentence, at this point.

Hero and Counselor hovered, for a moment, at Villain’s bedside, while Medic did their work. Leader stood back, nearly having to forcibly tear their gaze from that of Villain.

That odd sort of silence remained for several moments, if not minutes, as Medic’s deft hands worked to close the wound. It was only when the last suture was tied that Counselor spoke up-- one of the only times they had done so for the whole mission.

“Leader?”

“Hm?”

“What’s our plan, exactly? What are our orders?”

They raised a brow. Counselor was never that direct-- nor that military.

“Um...” It felt quite stupid, being caught unprepared like this, but in their defense, they had nearly just been killed by an exploding air conditioner. “I... I don’t want to hazard doing anything until Villain is stable.”

“That was your plan before.” Medic muttered as they pried latex gloves from their hands. “It almost got us killed.”

“Right. Yeah, um, are they stable enough? For transport?”

“They’re not going to bleed out, if that’s your concern. Physically, I’d say they’re stable. Mentally? I think we need to get them to a secure location before they snap out of this fugue state.”

“Alright.” Leader chewed their tongue. “Let’s get the van ready, then.”

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The ship’s deck was notably busy, despite the fact that it was relatively late at night. The vessel’s skeleton crew hurried about, keeping it afloat and on track, while outdated Humvees drove in chaotic paths. What the commotion was about was beyond Villain’s knowledge, or their capacity to care. All that mattered was fighting their instinct to cover their ears, and ensuring that they were keeping up with Trainer.

They could feel it-- the boat-- beneath them. The millions of systems and circuits and electrons, thrumming and being jolted about by a swaying sea.

The small company that Trainer had gathered made their way to the far end of the deck, where a VTOL plane was already humming, waiting for its crew to board. They did so, clustering themselves into the compact cabin. There was, notably, no room the vessel for a pilot-- all steering operations would be handled by an artificial intelligence of sorts. Villain greeted the computer program, but it did not respond.

Trainer settled themself into a middle seat at the front of the cabin. Villain sat obediently at their side, at which point their leash was secured to a handrail sticking out of the wall. They rested their head against the window. Though the cabin was crowded, at the very least, Villain was no longer forced to make the trip in the K9 compartment.

Once every member of the company was settled and seated, the VTOL’s doors slid shut, and the engine thwapp-thwapp-thwapped until the aircraft was off the ground. It shot upwards for a second, traveling several hundred feet in the time, before entering a linear dive and settling for a position around fifty feet above the choppy waters.

Villain closed their eyes, allowing their mind to wander to the creature around them. The VTOL contained what was likely the most complex computer program that the Organization had. Despite all its bells and whistles, however, it paid no mind to Villain’s prodding and wandering.

The plane’s route was not awfully complex. The vehicle was designed, surtout, for water-based travel. Though it could move over land, it struggled to rise above three hundred or so feet, making it useless for far-inland routes. Wherever it was going today was, luckily, on the coast-- somewhere in the forests of Washington state.

If they so wished, Villain could alter the route in any way they so pleased. They could send the aircraft into the ocean below, or back into the ship, or into the first land they saw. It would be simple-- all their problems gone in a moment.

Once the plane’s angle had leveled out, Trainer stood, moving to the front of the plane. Villain gnashed their teeth, attempting to rise from their seat, but finding themself limited by the taut leather line on their muzzle. They were too far, they were on mission, they shouldn’t have been so far, come on, come on. The leash refused to give way, however, leaving them firmly affixed in position.

Trainer cleared their throat, drawing the attention of the gathered company. They began to speak, words taking on quite a commanding air, though Villain only understand a few choice phrases.

“Incursus” was the one that made them prick their ears. They had heard it only a few times before. In conversation, once or twice, but more notably during mission briefings. The last time they had heard it... several missions ago, before they had been briefly confined to the medical wing.

The word itself was meaningless-- its implications less so.

Villain gulped, their jaw straining against the wires of their muzzle.

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Leader walked at the side of the gurney, ghosting a hand over one of the siderails all the while. A pair of doctors pushed the gurney itself, with Medic trailing close behind, and Hero and Counselor at their sides.

In contrast with the upper floors, the hospital’s lobby floor was brightly lit, almost overwhelmingly so, with expanses of floor-to-ceiling windows. The beige carpeting was bathed with the last remnants of sunrise orange-- it had been a long night.

The few patients in the hospital at such as hour were hurried out of the way as the gurney moved through. A scattering of nurses and varied hospital personnel were littered about, watching the Heroes’ procession, but staying several yards away, unwilling to even be in Villain’s vicinity.

Leader looked down at the gurney. A blanket had been draped over Villain, working to keep them at a stable temperature. Their fabric and webbing restraints had been replaced by those made of metal.

Their eyes were open. They had been the whole time. Despite, they had yet to struggle in any form.

The automatic doors at the front of the lobby rumbled open, allowing the gurney to be pushed through. A team of doctors and Leader’s own personnel stood outside, gathered around an ambulance with its back doors hanging open. The doctors pushing the gurney passed it off to some of the stronger personnel, who lifted the contraption into the vehicle’s back, securing it.

Leader nodded their thanks, and moved to get behind the vehicle’s wheel.

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The ship hadn’t been too far off of the East coast to begin with, making the trip to Washington a relatively short one. It took one hour, thirty-six minutes, and eighty-two seconds, to be exact-- far more amicable than the 16-hour trips they had endured in the past.

The VTOL had made a measured descent into a forest clearing, shredding the grass below with its landing gear. With the doors open, the company had scrambled out; Trainer taking Villain’s leash in hand once more.

In the clearing, there had been no sign of life besides a scurrying songbird or two. Villain had only then realized a far more unpleasant aspect of the mission.

They were going to be marching.

Not marching, exactly, they supposed. There was no regimented order to it, it was more like hiking. Just... hiking for hours. The VTOL couldn’t go too far inland, and landing it close to a target was often impossible.

So, they marched.

Sometimes, heaven would be merciful, and the trek would be short, of only a mile or so. On crueler days, though, they would move for hours-- breaking only for water, which Villain would watch the soldiers drink with a parched throat.

Even just from the look of the clearing, and its location, however, Villain had been able to tell that today was not one of those more merciful occasions.

When the plane had landed, the moon at been at its highest point--signifying that midnight had struck. For the first few hours, they walked in darkness, until dawn slowly began to creep up.

All in all, the trek had taken four hours, most of which were spent walking. By the time the group stopped and crouched down, Villain felt their legs were about to snap. It had been far too many hours and far too many miles since they had cared to look at their surroundings. All that mattered was Trainer, and staying awake.

The company made themselves small among an area of heavy undergrowth. Trainer let Villain’s leash loosely hang around their wrist. Even if the technopath had any desire to flee, they doubted they could even get their legs back under them.

One of the soldiers spoke up, somehow sounding hardly winded. Though most of their words served as nonsense to Villain’s ears, one did stick out: Scopum. It was one of the words Trainer had used, back when they were teaching Villain how to search and retrieve objects.

Trainer nodded, took a drink of water from a canteen, and got to their knees. They pointed to something behind the bushes-- Villain got on their knees to look at well.

Over the wall of undergrowth, a building could be seen. It wasn’t particularly notable-- it would be best described as a cabin, with rustic architecture and an array of out-of-season Christmas lights. It seemed to be a vacation home of sorts; large enough to fit a family, certainly, but not a place anyone would live permanently.

Was this their Scopum? Their goal?

Trainer took hold again of Villain’s leash and stood. The real mission was just about to begin, and Villain could hardly stand.

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The drive from the hospital to their base was longer than Leader would have preferred, enough to make them nervously request updates every few minutes, much to Medic’s distaste.

The base stood at the edge of one of Washington’s denser forests, about half an hour out from the city proper. The location provided security, and in their group’s early days, secrecy, but it made transport difficult.

“Hey, Medic?” Leader started.

“Villain is fine. They’re still out of it. Cabin temperature is staying steady at 70, their body temperature is just about where it should be. Keep your damn eyes on the road.”

Leader nodded, biting the inside of their cheek. City traffic had been left behind a few miles ago, leaving only empty back roads. Seven minutes to go, the GPS diligently reported.

“We’re close now, then.” Medic spoke, starting the conversation for once. They weren’t usually the one to do such a thing, but Hero and Counselor were in the ambulance’s back. “What are you thinking?”

“Thinking?”

“Your plans. Please don’t forget that you’re the leader around here, you give the orders. What do we do, when we get back to base?”

Leader bit their tongue to prevent themself from snapping at that passive insult. They were glad for the change in topic, at least.

“Our first priority is keeping ourselves safe. Villain’s safety is second priority-- I’m not sacrificing anything to keep their wellbeing. But I wouldn’t consider them a threat, right now. I assume you would like to keep them in the med bay?”

“For now, at least. They’re stable, but the fact that they’re still breathing is a miracle. I want to have my equipment nearby if they crash.”

“As long as it’s safe, then.”

“And then what?”

“Then... they’re still a prisoner, injured or not. Then we put them in the cells.”

“We don’t have any cells?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

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The company moved swiftly, forcing Villain’s legs to wake up to the horrible feeling of pins and needles. Trainer remained at the group’s head, leading them forth to the cabin.

It must have looked quite ridiculous, to an outsider. Villain would have laughed if they were able.

The group stopped before the quaint structure.

“Aperire.” Trainer ordered. Villain gnashed their teeth.

The command was a simple one, generally. It meant that they were to open something-- usually a door, or a box, or an encrypted device. The wooden door before them, however, had no electric component; it didn’t even seem to have a lock at all.

Still, they dove into the few electronics that the building did host. The Christmas lights seemed to be meaningless noise-- they tore through those, searching instead through the inner electronics. They were uncomplicated, so much so that their purpose couldn’t be so much as guessed.

Villain panicked, gnashing their teeth, shaking their head against the muzzle. They didn’t know what to do. They could feel their heartbeat, pounding in their head, throbbing.

“Aperire.” Trainer repeated. It only increased Villain’s heartrate-- what were hey doing wrong? Please, what were they doing wrong? They dove back into the systems. There was no door to be seen, just the lights, just some random system. They decided on the latter, tripping the system, just as they drew blood from biting down on their own tongue.

The house rumbled.

Instead of opening as a door should, the rustic home’s door slid into the wall, revealing a brightly-lit interior-- devoid of both furniture and interest.

The only point of interest was at the very center of the floor: A ramp, leading downwards.

Villain gulped. With rougher hands than before, Trainer yanked at their leash, forcing them forth. Together, the two descended, the company right on their heels.

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The base-- it had no real name, it was simply “the base”-- was an uncomplicated corrugation of concrete walls and sparse entranceways. It had been constructed as the shell of a factory, years ago, a factory which eventually fell through. Since then, Leader had organized quite a renovation of the property.

They drove the ambulance to the base’s parking lot, backing up to the curb as near to the entrance as they could.

“You worried?” Medic asked.

“Mhm.” Leader nodded, hopping out of the cockpit and to the asphalt below. The ambulance’s rear doors had already been swung open, with Hero and Counselor working to guide the gurney from it.

Villain still laid on the bed, shrouded with blankets, nearly comatose.

Their eyes moved.

Leader did a double-take, looking back to the figure on the gurney. Villain’s gaze had moved, now directing itself straight at Leader. Whatever expression they were portraying... it looked like fear.

Leader frowned. They moved to the transport bed’s side, placing their hands on the rails.

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The ramp descended at least a story into the earth.

With every step they took, Villain could feel their mind become more and more cluttered. At first, they could only hear the simple lighting and ventilation systems, but as they grew deeper, more noises joined the cacophony. Computers and servers, medical equipment and weaponry, it all blended together, all humming, all whirring, all chanting until it made Villain’s head hurt.

At the base of the ramp, which they only reached after what felt like an eternity, stood a simple door. Nothing more than a steel barrier.

“Perdere.”

That command was about as simple as they came. Within a split second, the door, and half of the wall, before Villain had been decimated to rubble.

On the other side of the newly-torn door, a figure moved. Villain flinched, gnawing again on their bloodied tongue. Trainer forced them forward.

The room was empty, devoid, as the past one had been. There was no furniture, no weaponry, no defense. Only a person, standing squarely before the door at the far end.

Their wings brushed the room’s walls.

Leader glared.

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As they leaned over Villain’s bedside, Leader smiled-- an expression as gentle as they could make it. They weren’t sure what had suddenly turned them so soft. Pity, maybe? Somehow, though, it tugged at them in the same way as nostalgia.

They brushed a hand over Villain’s shoulder.

“Hey. You’re gonna be okay.”

The next part was the stupid one. The soft one, the one that would have made anyone in any faction laugh. One that, if anyone had heard it, Leader surely never would have lived down. Even they were not sure why they spoke it.

Five simple words. Five words without meaning.

“Welcome to your new home.”

#whump #villain whumpee #whump community #whumpblr #whumpee #conditioned whumpee #whump trope #whump prompt #hero villain whump

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magicalforcesau · 3 years

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Letters (part 2)

As Obi-Wan and Satine continue their written correspondence in the back half of their Hogwarts career, their bond strengthens to the point where it might not strictly be platonic.

ao3 link

Fifth Year Summer

Dear Ben,

I GOT MY MENTORSHIP REQUEST APPROVED! I’m going to be a peer mentor this upcoming year! Oh, I know this is going to be another responsibility when we’re already saddling quite a bit with OWLS and our duties as prefects. While it was your initial idea to join, I have no regrets. If I’m to influence the minds of thousands from the Ministry, it will do me good to have practice on a smaller and more impressionable scale. Besides, far too many first years are led astray in my opinion. Having firm and caring guidance will be most beneficial.

I hope you can write to me with the same news, even if I still believe you are pushing yourself far too hard. Just please consider your own mental health for this upcoming term. You’re already wound tighter than anyone I know. I would truly not like to partake in the bets that Fives and Echo make behind your back about when your head will explode. I believe either myself or Cody would win. We know you best.

Speaking of being wound tight, I have been dedicating my summer to the practice of enchanting muggle objects as per our homework assignments. Turns out, it truly is not that difficult. I’ve been careful not to alter anything that would come into contact with other muggles, but I look forward to showing you the results of some of my recreations. Between you and me, I’ve been constructing some that were not on the instructed list.

You’re not technically a prefect yet, Obi-Wan Kenobi, so don’t even think about making a wise remark about how you could see me in trouble.

Yours Truly,

Satine

Dear Satine,

I, too, just received confirmation that I’m to mentor a first year this upcoming school year! Regardless of your speculation and wariness, I stand by my decision. We will be kept busy, but idle minds mean time wasted. If you hadn’t agreed on principle, I don’t believe you would have signed up right behind me. As for my extracurricular activities, pretending as though I am not stressed in the slightest about the prospect of the coming year is futile, but I hope to work through it and to become a better student as a result of it. My father has relented on training by Quidditch form. There are bigger things to worry about such as OWLS, which is why I’m to be locked in all summer. No complaints there- I’d much rather read.

Speaking of reading, I’ve thoroughly enjoyed the books you snuck into my trunk. Yes, I found them and they were quite a welcome surprise. A bit of relaxing education is just what the doctor ordered. Not literally, because I loathe visiting my family’s practitioner. He takes the term “witch doctor” to new levels and I will leave it at that.

You’ve always been far better at charming objects than I ever have. To be fair, I still don’t have a full understanding of what certain muggle objects actually do, but I’ve got most of the list marked off by this point. While I promise not to report you for deliberate rule breaking, I do admire your gumption. I hope you’ll one day let me see what you’ve crafted. You know I adore learning the novelties of the muggle world. I believe last we spoke, you were telling me about ‘computers’.

As always, I’d love to know more. You have a manner of speaking that simply can’t go unnoticed, at least not to me.

Best,

Obi-Wan

Fifth Year- Winter

Dear Satine,

I apologize if this owl reaches you at an indecent hour. I know how you are about your beauty sleep. It’s been strange being back home, even if for a couple of weeks. It’s only made me realize just how unreal this year has been in terms of excitement and mystery. Though I do not blame the boy for any of it, I won’t lie that it was a much quieter school without Anakin Skywalker present. I wouldn’t change any of it, of course. I believe I am making a difference in working with him. He has a bright mind, if he chooses to use it.

I still can’t get the vision of him foaming at the mouth on the floor out of my head. There’s no doubt that someone has it in for him. I can only imagine who. While eccentric, Anakin is still just a child. He’s harmless.

At risk of drastically changing the subject- my true reason for writing was to thank you again for the watch. My parents have ingrained in me the importance of writing thank you notes regardless of the nature of the gift. However, this might be the first time the sentiment has felt important in action. It may sound ungrateful, but a boy can only receive so many tie clips before he starts to sound a bit robotic in his delivery.

However, please note that every word I say, I mean through my very bones. I hope you didn’t take my silence at receiving it to be anything less than breathlessness. You always keep me guessing, Satine Kryze, and I would have you no different. I am still in awe every time I catch a gander at my wrist.

You did a marvelous job in transfixing and refurbishing it. Seriously, it is of no wonder that Charms comes easier to you than it does to me. Had I not known otherwise; I would have assumed this watch was always crafted with the intention of being magical. Even if it were just a standard watch, it would still have meant more to me than anything I’ve received simply because it came from you. My friend. I’m not sure I deserve it.

I suppose I’ve no excuse for fear of being late any longer, now do I?

It’s never coming off!

Obi-Wan

Dear Ben,

I’m no longer, by any means, insinuating that the boy is trouble. Or more accurately, I don’t believe he’s cognizant of these omens. What concerns me, is Qui-Gon seems to believe that a dark time is upon us. He won’t share his suspicions outright, but I can tell just by how he talks to Anakin with a certain level of wonder and curiosity. Surely, you see it too.

Even still, I say, when school starts up, we try and start our own investigation- off the books and away from Anakin, of course. We needn’t worry him more than he already is. Perhaps while Gryffindor has the field for Quidditch practice we can better research. There’s been too many strange occurrences this year for it to all be coincidental. I’d argue this is the tipping point.

We can further discuss a game plan back at school, but at risk of hurting feelings and potentially endangering lives, we should keep this between us.

I am, however, glad to hear you enjoyed the watch ♥

Yours,

Satine

Sixth Year- Summer

Dear Satine,

I received my OWLS results today as I’m sure you did the same. I wanted you to hear from me, personally, that I am, in fact, alive and well despite what I received as scores. I’m surprised at how alive and how well, quite actually.

For some context- I received all O’s in everything… With the exception of Arithmancy- of which I got an E. I’m not positive where exactly I went wrong in studying for it. I don’t recall the exam being particularly difficult. It’s never been a prized subject of mine as you well know, but I’ve always delivered nothing less than near-perfect marks.

My parents took the news surprisingly well. As opposed to blaming me for slacking off or being distracted by frivolous things such as friends… They were in support of me. In fact, they’re positive that the school is deliberately discriminating against me. I think it might have to do with the recent revelation regarding Anakin being the chosen one. They’ve been much kinder to me and the choices I’ve made as a result of my association with him. Where they believed I was wasting my time, I apparently “saw” what they couldn’t- even if my decision to mentor Anakin had absolutely nothing to do with the matter.

I still have not yet mentioned my pursuit of becoming an Auror. You have to space this kind of news out when you can. They’ve supported me on this, but I’m not sure they’d take that in stride. My parents have been itching to have me become a lawyer or a politician for as long as I can remember.

How were your scores? I’m sure you did brilliantly. I should know, I studied alongside you during all of this madness. I’m eager to properly celebrate with you when we next meet. My mother asked me where I’d gotten the watch the other day and I exclaimed that the brightest witch of my age crafted it for me personally… She assumed it was Ventress, but you’ve always thrived in the chaos of being underestimated, now haven’t you? I will never make that mistake.

Truly,

Ben

Dear Ben,

Don’t you ever scare me with such a dramatic introduction ever again! I nearly had a heart attack, assuming you’d gone and failed your OWLS in a fit of insanity. Given how unusual our fifth year was, I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if it had another anomaly to toss our way. I thought I was going to have to portkey to you and shake the living daylights out of you for being so foolish.

You landed on your feet, as you always do and seem to make it look incredibly easy to those that do not know any better. We’re matching, actually, except my E was in DADA- likely during the practical session when I wouldn’t cast that Sectumsempra spell. To have us perform such an act on a defenseless animal is cruel (even if it was a spider), particularly in the name of ‘testing’. If they must endorse the epidemic of violence, can they not simply provide test dummies?

I’m actually surprised I scored that high, since the instructor looked at me like I had ten heads. I spoke to Cody today. He passed, despite how hard he doubted himself. We both knew that he would do fine, of course.

Ventress has been around a lot more frequently, hasn’t she? I know that she’s been quite displaced ever since Dooku’s outing. She’s quite smug and entitled for someone who hardly does anything aside from being an errand girl to a Sith terror. I’m sure she’ll be continuing her tricks this year. To think your family thinks you could be as shrewd and awful as her.

How is Anakin this summer? I contemplated sending him an owl just to see how he was processing the more recent revelations, but it would most likely sound more from the heart if it came from you. You were truly excellent with him this year, if I hadn’t already mentioned it. I know I convinced you to break away from the status quo and lean into your desires to become an auror, but you’ve got a real knack for teaching and seeing the best in people. It’s truly one of your best traits. That, and the fact that regardless how much of a mess you are, you always manage to look pristine from head to toe.

Actually, that last bit is borderline infuriating. I hope to see you before the summer lets out. I understand why that might be difficult, but it seems with your parents’ investment in Anakin, you might have a valid reason to be away from the homestead more often. If you understand what I’m saying.

Best,

Satine

Sixth Year- Winter

{A draft from the desk of Obi-Wan Kenobi}

[Boldened text in parenthesis] = out loud thoughts

Dear Satine,

How do I say this without sounding like a damn fool? You kissed me!

It’s been brought to my attention by literally everyone that we have a certain noticeable chemistry. [Why am I saying what everyone else thinks when I should be saying what I think?] Usually, when we are together, we argue. A lot. Sometimes, I’m surprised we haven’t strangled each other yet by how heated some of our debates become. You have this ability to get under my skin in a way that no one else possesses. Truthfully, I love [Too strong! Don’t go scaring her off now] truly appreciate that about you.

But there are times when I get this feeling… And it’s come on more and more the longer I know you… Like we could get beyond the possible strangulation phase and onto something… Better. [What is wrong with me?] You challenge me and I think sometimes I’m able to challenge you as well. I think having people in your life that push you to be the best you can be is a sign of true companionship friendship. You’ve become a constant in my life that I wouldn’t shake even if I could. Looking back, it’s only natural for me to grow feelings for you.

Where I tried to convince myself those feelings were simply an intense comradery, I cannot deny that I do not notice how the light casts on Cody’s hair or linger on him as he walks away [Blast that makes me sound like a pervert] wonder what his hand would feel like in mine. My heart doesn’t quicken if Cody touches my shoulder or laughs at one of my jokes. Cody doesn’t sit incredibly close to me at the dining hall, but if he did, I would be more confused than completely entranced. Cody is my other best friend, but my entire day is not made or broken by seeing him smile.

I wouldn’t be jealous if the seventh year boys decided to notice that Cody was beautiful.

And you are disarmingly beautiful, but I’ve always known that, even if I try to ignore it.

You can imagine how terrifying all of this is to realize at the remarkable hour of 3 in the morning- a mere 3 hours after you decided to kiss me under the mistletoe. How am I supposed to think of anything else now or ever again? Which leads me to think [Don’t be presumptuous] wonder… If you share these feelings. And if you do, we’ve got quite a predicament there. Because if I could blissfully convinced myself that we could never be, I’d be able to bury that deep within me, but even the idea of hope that you could see me in that light… I fear that would be all too tempting. The evidence says that you might. You’ve always been a better investigator than myself, but I can’t shake this feeling that we have these spellbound moments where everything slows down. And it’s just you and me. During those moments, everything is alright.

Usually, when I’m troubled as I am now, I do not hesitate to reach out to you. You’re my co-conspirator, my fellow prefect, my best friend. However, given the situation, that’s not very easy to do. Even if Qui-Gon speaks of it like it is . I wish it were, because now all I can imagine is the mark you’ve left with your kiss. It’s the same sort of feeling I get every time I touch the face of the watch you gifted me last year.

Should I ever muster up the courage to send this letter to you, which I definitely shouldn’t, because you deserve the sort of man that would bare his heart in person, please understand that while I’ve dedicated my life to studying magical text, I’m not nearly as well-versed in the subject of love. Since I’m so certain you’ll never read this, there’s no point in denying that it’s anything less than love.

Love,

Ben

Seventh Year- Summer

Dear Ben,

I wanted to ensure that you were on the road of being okay, all things considering. I tried to wait to give you space, but I couldn’t make it more than a week without knowing you weren’t going mad locked up in that house of yours. I’m not even positive you’ll write me back, which is infuriating, but understanding since Qui-Gon’s passing is not one to be taken lightly by anyone, but especially you. I wish I could alleviate the pain you must be feeling in any way.

I’m relieved just a little bit, knowing that Anakin is in your care. It was very surprising of your parents to offer him refuge, as he’s currently got no one else to possibly lean on. Hopefully the two of you can find some solace in each other during these difficult times. I care for both of you very much and my heart aches knowing I am virtually helpless in making this any better. I know you are likely placing an immense amount of pressure on yourself to distract you from addressing your own mentor’s death, but while your parents might encourage this behavior, it’s not a true way of coping. You need to let someone in.

Stay safe. Do not hesitate to reach out (no matter how cliché that sounds). Even if you talk to Cody instead, that’s fine. Just… Don’t lock yourself in that head of yours and go rogue. I’d miss you far too much.

With Love,

Satine

Dear Satine,

I’m not okay, but I’ll have to be soon. Anakin is safe and on the same boat. I’ll write later with a real reply. I’m not quite in the spirit right now. I just wanted you to know that I haven’t gone completely mad in absence.

~Obi-Wan

Dear Satine,

I’m sorry to be writing to you so late in “true” reply. I’ve been quite busy with Anakin this summer. It has been helpful having someone else around. While a gray cloud still seems to follow him around, I’d say he’s faring better than expected. It’s alarming how resilient the boy is, but also incredibly depressing that it needs to be that way. We’ve discussed the matter of Qui-Gon’s death a couple of times. While you won’t like this, I think there is some closure to knowing that Anakin’s attacker, who became Qui-Gon’s murderer, is dead.

Meanwhile, I must confess that it still haunts me every night. I haven’t said anything to Anakin, because like you rightfully assumed, I’m not about to unload that burden onto him. He feels it’s his fault just as much as I do. We’ve taken to playing Quidditch outside. My family owns several acres of land, so we are able to get out of earshot every now and then. Anakin actually gets on quite nicely with my parents, which is a massive relief. Getting back to school for our final year will be a good way to get back into routine. On the other hand, I’m dreading trying to attempt adjusting to a school without Qui-Gon.

I suppose studying my brains out for the NEWTS alongside you will provide for ample distraction. You, alone, are admittedly very distracting. I am referring to your character of course. A general statement.

There’s always Quidditch, unfortunately, which isn’t nearly as fun and carefree as playing with Anakin in the yard. Despite how massively competitive he is? He’s just turned 13 and he’s loads better than me already. I still hate the flying aspect.

I’m writing you, of course, because we just got notified that I’m to be the Head Boy to your Head Girl. This incredibly tragic time has truly made me appreciate the people I have in my life. You are, without a doubt, shining at the top of that metaphorical list in bold and underlined print. I wouldn’t be Head Boy had it not been for you.

A lot has changed thus far, Satine, and I’m growing tired of being afraid. Life is too short and it’s always going to throw negatives at us- some that are absolutely debilitating. However, there is always the light, which has made me think that perhaps this year, some changes don’t have to be bad. There are many things I’d like to discuss with you, in person. Because this sort of conversation should be the kind that happens face-to-face.

Would you like to meet before school?

Truly Yours,

Ben

#obitine #Obi-Wan Kenobi #satine kryze #the clone wars #star wars #hpau #magical forces au #fragments of the garden

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seyaryminamoto · 3 years

Note

I'm so hype about the overwatch deathlock rebels, finally my gurl Ashe gets a more clear background story but I sad at the same time because it seems like many hate ashe for unreasonable causes. They hate Ashe just because she gets in the way of a their ship. These are the same people who said they're not in the overwatch fandom because of ships, but throws rock just because McAshe is hinted to crush/smth. Btw I'm a McGenji shipper but I do like McAshe stuffs too and I see its potential as canon

Oh, mad respect to you, McGenji anon, mad respect. I've been so out of things lately because I'm still REELING from that book, I swear I have never known a feeling quite like this one? xD I was afraid the book might end up validating a lot of toxic ideas people had about Ashe, but instead I feel it completely outruled them and showed that, whether people like it or not, she and McCree had a pretty good relationship (whether you wanna see it as romantic or not) back in the day. The minute these two were face to face in Reunion my shipper senses just went BONKERS, and I already thought that Reunion was all they'd ever give us, canon-wise... but nope, they just went all out with this book and now there's so much more context to so many little things in Reunion too *sobs* I am completely overtaken by these cowboy renegades, my head's cowboy brainrot 24/7 since June 1st xD

But yep, people are really unbearable with their mindless Ashe hate. I keep thinking that, if she were a guy, everyone trashing her would jump at the opportunity to ship her with just every possible male character they could find, not only McCree. I don't even know, honestly, just how difficult can it be to ship what you ship without turning any characters into boogeymen because "they get in the way of the ship"? It's a childish, dumbass thing I've seen in fandoms since I was a kid and I can't believe I'm still seeing it happen in this godforsaken year of 2021. Ashe and McCree are absolutely at odds in the latest events in Overwatch's timeline: I love the idea of them slowly regaining their trust in each other while working together to stop Null Sector, Talon or whatever they'll be fighting in OW2. But anyone who DOESN'T ship them? They can easily imagine whatever else they want to imagine for their future and move on just fine. McAshe absolutely can be seen as a past relationship, or even as a past friendship with unresolved feelings, when making content for any other ship with McCree or Ashe, if they even feel the need to acknowledge it altogether. It's not even challenging to do this.

Heck, as someone who has spent ages creating content for a ship that, however much traction it has gained lately, isn't likely to become canon, where one half of the ship has been in a canon, confirmed, actual relationship since the show ended (even if it's still not confirmed as his endgame relationship), this hissy fit by the Ashe haters, mainly from the-ship-that's-better-off-not-named, is beyond ridiculous. I've written stories where a canon relationship ends, giving way to my OTP, WITHOUT trashing the other character in the canon relationship, and without turning her into a monster just to justify my ship's existence. If I can do that without a hitch, I don't see how they can't? It makes no sense to me, honestly.

There's also an apparent uproar because McCree and Ashe are "het" now? There's no canon confirmed sexuality for either of them to this moment, no matter if there were definite sparks flying in Deadlock Rebels, just as there was no confirmed sexuality before the book. A lot of people think of McCree as bi, and that headcanon wasn't killed somehow by the contents of this book, was it? Heck, I'm even thinking of games like Dragon Age, where straight characters have deliberately been written to reject advances from any same-sex MCs, and players have made mods to romance them with same-sex MCs anyway because they don't give a flying fuck about canon sexuality if it's straight. In my experience? That's how fandom always works. Typically, it's when characters are confirmed gay that anyone who shipped them in straight relationships have to back off, since it's highly frowned upon to alter the sexuality of any gay characters. But even if a character has nothing but opposite-sex love interests in canon, the fandom always does whatever it wants. Why the heck is it different here, to the point of spewing that much vitriol at Ashe just because she exists and McCree is/was into her?

Oof, I just say live and let die, man. Frankly, I am living the dream with this book, I've loved every new tidbit of lore it offered, especially those recontextualized hints of Reunion content (hell, even the "plothole" with the Est. 1976 in the Deadlock logo was addressed, it's amazing xD). Apparently, McAshe shippers aren't entitled to "canon status" thanks to the cinematic, or through all the history these two characters share, history that's been expanded through this book... I find that fair and valid, but just so, no other ship is entitled to demand for canon status, not in this franchise, not in anything else, as far as I'm concerned. Blizzard has made a bunch of bad choices in the last years, there's no denying that, but as far as I can tell, caving in to what a certain cluster of fans demand just because their ship is "popular" has NEVER resulted in anything good. If anything, every time I've seen big media give in to whatever their loudest fans want, the quality of their content tends to spiral downwards at ridiculously rapid speed, because that isn't what their creative vision used to be, and it's not an organic choice but a forced one, done just to sell more (and typically, they don't achieve that goal at all). Could list a few examples of that, but I'd be here all day, I suspect x'D

At any rate, thank you for being such a good sport, McGenji Anon :D shippers who respect other ships are the absolute best and I'm really happy to know there's people like you out there in the OW fandom. I'm not crazy active in the OW fandom myself, partly because I can't even play the game, only watch friends play it, and because I have signed my life off to Sokkla, as everyone knows... but I gotta say, the ideas, the THOUGHTS that have come to mind over this unbelievable book... I've already doodled a couple of them and if I had enough time to go all out, I absolutely would xD Now, I just need to see how to buy myself an Ashe keychain and then I'll be set to cry about these two for life. I've been doing plenty of progress on that front as it is... X'D

#mcgenji anon #I'll call ya that (?)#but honestly #HONESTLY #I never ask canon for anything #I always assume they'll take a dump on my hopes and dreams #because it keeps on happening in every fandom practically #and with OW being the weird storytelling messy mess it is #the fact that they've fed the McAshe nation this well #is unbelievable and I am very fortunate and grateful for it #every day since June 1st I've woken up thanking the universe for this book #and I'm probs gonna do that for 20 years more #just as Ashe has spent 20 years holding onto the bike they built #and the keychain he gave her #comes from gold but she's tough as steel #*gross sobbing* HE IS A POET #honestly he is so bold about his interest in her #I never thought he would be so open about it and I am HERE for it thank you Jesse

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vexing-imogen · 3 years

Text

the persistence of 6/?

read from beginning | read on ao3

Vex doesn’t intend on leaving the manor grounds, not at first. She’s in a new city, despite having lived here for several years, and getting herself lost would only serve to panic everyone, and would be rather humiliating to boot. But, even with Trinket at her side, the garden that was so inviting last night has become unbearable. Oppressive.

She’s suffocating. So while she knows that leaving is probably a bad idea, she can’t bring herself to stay.

She stands, using Trinket’s shoulder for leverage, then scratches him behind the ears. “Let’s go for a walk, buddy.”

It’s still early enough that the streets are near deserted. The few people Vex does pass as she wanders give her a wave or a nod and go about their business. She deliberately avoids the streets that will take her back to the town square and those unnerving statues. There’s a castle on a hilltop to the north, so she sets off in that direction, her interest piqued.

She loses track of time while walking, and eventually she stops to take a break by a wrought iron gate. A faded signpost pointing to the right reads “To the Zenith and the Greyfield”. A raven caws, and she feels a pull in her chest, as if her subconscious is telling her that the answers she need lie at the end of this path.

Trinket makes a mournful noise as she walks through the gate and starts down the path, but he follows dutifully, glancing about for anything untoward. It is kind of creepy, she will admit. They pass a temple first, large and very old. The Zenith, if she had to guess. The sun shines through the stained glass window as she passes, bathing her in warm, colored light, and she places her hand to her heart and bows without thinking. A chill runs down her spine, but she shakes it off and keeps going.

The Greyfield is a cemetery, she finds. The eerie silence is only broken by the occasional raven’s cry. And if she’d thought the city was overpopulated with ravens, it’s nothing compared to this. The main group of them seem to be clustered around a mausoleum on the far end of the field, and her curiosity outweighs any fear she might be feeling.

There’s no name carved into the stone, no indication of it belonging to anyone in particular. The door is open, and she ventures inside. The air is cold and stale, and she realizes that someone has set this place up as a shrine of some kind. There’s an altar laid out in the center of the room, adorned with ravens feathers, small white flowers, and a bowl of some dark liquid. She dips a couple fingers in it. It’s cold and viscous and is most definitely blood.

She stares at her fingers, at the blood that drips from them onto the marble floor, an uneasy pit settling in her stomach. “What the fuck is this place?”

“Creepy, isn’t it?”

Vex shrieks and spins around, her heart racing in her chest. Keyleth is there in the doorway, regarding the mausoleum with disdain.

“Sorry,” she says, wincing. “I promise this place isn’t actually as bad as it looks.”

Vex takes a couple of deep breaths. “What is it?”

“A temple to the Raven Queen,” Keyleth says, and Vex doesn’t miss the bitterness in her voice, or the way she refuses to actually step into the space. “Percy had this repurposed for Vax, so he’d have a place to worship while he was in Whitestone.”

She doesn’t miss the way Keyleth hesitates before saying her brother’s name.

“You love him, don’t you?” she asks. “Vax.”

The way Keyleth’s eyes widen is all the answer she needs, but she nods after a moment. “It, uh, didn’t exactly work out, but...yeah.”

“Didn’t work out,” Vex repeats. “Did it have anything to do with Her?” She nods towards the shrine.

Keyleth laughs, wipes away a tear. “Yeah, you could say that.” She sighs. “It’s...complicated. He had to go. To serve Her. And I couldn’t follow.”

Vex hugs Keyleth tight. “I’m sorry, darling. I can kick his ass for you the next time I see him, if you’d like.”

Keyleth shrinks back out of Vex’s embrace. “That won’t be necessary. It’s fine, really. I’ve...made my peace with it.”

Liar she thinks, but she doesn’t push. “I guess we should probably go back, shouldn’t we?”

Keyleth takes her hand as they walk through the cemetery. “How are you feeling?”

She sighs, tries to ignore the tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. “Lost,” she says finally. “Have you ever...had a word caught on the tip of your tongue, and you know you should know it, and you know that once you hear it you’ll remember, and you’ll feel so fucking stupid for ever forgetting it?”

Keyleth nods.

“That’s what this feels like,” she continues. “Except it’s not just one word, it’s five years of my life, and I don’t know if I’ll ever actually remember.”

“We’ll figure this out, Vex,” Keyleth says, squeezing her hand. “There’s a solution out there, I know there is, we just have to find it.” She stops them, cups Vex’s face in her hands. “I promise you, we will fix this.”

Vex sniffles, looks away from her friend’s earnest gaze. “That’s what you all said yesterday.”

=============================================================

Percy feels like he’s going mad with worry. Sure, Vex is more than capable of taking care of herself, and Keyleth had done a quick scry before going off to find her, and assured him that she was fine. But he’s still tense and anxious, and he’s going to wear a groove in the floorboards if he doesn’t stop pacing soon.

They’d all been so confident in Pike, in her healing abilities, that none of them had been prepared for the spell to not work. Except for Vex he thinks. She’d accepted defeat so easily, seemed to have almost been expecting it, and that’s what has him truly scared. He’s never witnessed Vex give up quite so fast, and he doesn’t know what it means.

For him. For her. For them...

A knock on the doorframe jolts him out of his thoughts. Scanlan is standing there with a sad smile. “Hey. I managed to calm Pike down,” he starts. “She should be coming back soon enough. I think she was going to have a little chat with Sarenrae. How’s Vex?”

Percy shrugs. “Not sure,” he admits. “She took off just after you and Pike left. Didn’t say where she was going. Keyleth had to scry to find out where she’d gone.”

Scanlan nods, taps his foot nervously. “I had an idea,” he says. “And obviously we’d have to run it by Vex, and if you guys say ‘no’ I’ll never bring it up again-”

“Scanlan.” Percy cuts off his rambling. “What was your idea?”

The gnome sighs. “If, for whatever reason, there’s absolutely no way to restore Vex’s memories, I thought I could maybe use Modify Memory on her. To give her a highlight reel of the last few years. It would take some time, and I can’t give her everything, but she’d have something back. The important stuff, at least.”

Percy’s so overwhelmed with emotion, he does the first thing that comes to his mind. He hugs Scanlan.

“Can you really do that, Scanlan?”

Percy’s head snaps up. Vex is standing just beyond the doorway with Keyleth and Pike. He doesn’t want to jinx anything, but she looks almost hopeful.

“I can,” Scanlan says, turning to face her. “But only with your consent. And you’d have to trust that we wouldn’t give you any false or altered memories.”

She mulls it over for a minute. “I’ll have to think it over,” she says. “But, no matter what, it’s an incredibly sweet offer, Scanlan.”

“It might not even be necessary,” Pike says, stepping forward. “I spoke with Sarenrae, for a while, and she told me what we have to do to get Vex’s memories restored.”

“That’s great, Pike,” Keyleth says. “What do we have to do?”

Pike sighs. “Well, the reason my spell didn’t work is because Sarenrae doesn’t have dominion over memories. The Raven Queen does,” she explains. “I’ve been able to restore memories before because the effect was smaller, in Percy and Grog’s case, or it was a physical ailment, like the Gith we met in Pandemonium. What happened to Vex was bigger, and magical. It’s not something Sarenrae or I can fix.”

“But the Raven Queen can?” Percy guesses.

“Yes.” Pike looks up at Vex. “If you’re willing to try, I already got in touch with the Raven Queen’s temple in Vasselheim. We can go as early as tomorrow, and hopefully they can cure you.”

“I think it’s worth a shot,” Percy says. “But the choice is yours, dearest.”

Vex looks uncertain until her attention is caught by something outside. Percy follows her gaze to Vesper, playing in the garden with Rika. He looks back to Vex, and she nods once, firmly. “I suppose there’s no harm in trying.”

=============================================================

Her dreams that night are horrific. There’s no visual, just pitch darkness, but the voices are as clear as day. And they’re all awful.

The first is her brother, and she can almost feel him grasping her hand. Do not go far from me. If we are out of earshot, you are too far from me. Do not go far from me.

Her own tearful response. Do you think this is what mother saw before she died?

The next is a voice she doesn’t recognize, but it sends chills down her spine, sickly and oozing. Sweet, broken Vex’ahlia... a question, from her What would you ask in return? him again Your heart.

My heart is someone else’s.

Scanlan calling for her from across a battlefield. Her sobbing, casting healing spells uselessly into an unresponsive body. I’m not leaving Percy!

A cold room, a colder feeling in her chest. Desperate to do something, anything. But I don’t want to be here if you’re not. Whitestone still needs you, darling. I still need you here.

Grog’s voice, loud. Angry. Devastated. FIX HIM!

Then herself again. Having a conversation with someone, but the replies are static.

I feel like she’s taking part of me away.

I don’t know how to live.

Please. I love you. I don’t accept this.

I’m going to find you.

And, finally, on a maddening loop.

Where’s Vax?

She wakes from her nightmares with a scream, thrashing against the confines of her blanket. Her foot connects with something, and Percy grunts.

“Vex’ahlia.” His hands on her shoulders ground her. “It’s alright, dear, you’re alright. It was just a dream.”

She catches his hand as it’s running through her hair. “Percy.” She stares at him, tears flowing, the weight of the truth threatening to crush her. “I need to ask you something.”

“Anything.”

“You have to promise you’ll tell me the truth,” she says. “Swear to me that you won’t lie to me.”

She sees the realization dawn in his eyes, but he nods. “I swear, Vex. I swear on our wedding vows that I will not lie to you.”

“Is my brother dead?”

#critical role #critfic #vox machina #perc'ahlia #vex'ahlia #percy de rolo

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bigskydreaming · 3 years

Note

Continuing on that observation because I forgot to add this part, as a gen z I'm glad you understand that we or young people don't invent new ways to be evil, but it's not completely true. You aren't seeing new forms of online abuse in every platform, I doubt second hand information is going into details as well. Also the fact that you are a white man, there are things being said and done to poc in various online communities that I don't expect you to be privy to. Harassing fans of color and poc media has become a lot more common and normalized which parts of the fandom at large will never see. I don't know if anon did all of the thinking before saying "gen z bad" but they're not completely wrong looking at the kind of mass bullying behavior literal kids are exhibiting. They are learning from or being encouraged by older people but that shouldn't take the focus away from them to blame only the older people.

And my ask regarding Barbara, you assumed I hadn't thought about if my disdain for the character could have come from ableism. I had tho, granted you couldn't have known that and it was surely a possibility, so I'm not saying I'm mad about it, I was at that time a little bit. But you could perhaps give your anons a little more credit sometimes. Sometimes people know what they're talking about, you don't need to explain other possibilities to them each time.

Once again, sorry if this came off as very rude I just needed to share that observation and among many other instances these two were really highlights and kept bothering me. My issue with Barbara goes in a different direction than anything to do with her appearance and I've personally faced online abuse from people younger than me in ways that technologically, even politically, wasn't possible or as easy a few years ago, so you can maybe see why...

Please keep in mind that whatever context you have for yourself or your ask when you come into my inbox on anon......I have none of that. You have an awareness of yourself relative to whatever you asked me. I literally only know an anon by the words they put into my inbox and nothing else.

Also please keep in mind that every anon I answer, I do so in the larger context of my own interactions with tumblr overall. I have a lot of precedent with things I say being taken out of context, misrepresented or even just me not conveying myself as well as I like.

So the combination of those two things is that a) I literally just don't KNOW what any anon does or doesn't know and b) If I'm going to answer an anon, I tend to want to answer as fully and clearly as possible.

I can understand it coming across as being talked down to, so I'll work on that, but I would ask people to remember the above and keep that in context too when weighing my responses.....am I actually being condescending in every case, or does it simply feel that way because I'm including stuff you already know in my response? And if its the latter, is THAT something I COULD know about you without knowing who you are or you as a person and not just a paragraph sent in anonymously?

I'd rather be safe than sorry, and so from my POV since there's no harm in somebody seeing someone cover information they already know as PART of their overall answer or response, like, there's no reason for me not to include whatever I think is relevant and just expect readers to decide for themselves what about my response, if anything, is helpful, and like....just ignore the rest, y'know?

Also, just for the record, I am ADHD and I save my medication for when I'm working or writing or have stuff I absolutely need to get done, which doesn't include my usual blogging. So I'm usually posting while not on my ADHD meds at all, hence the rambling tendencies and the length. Another aspect of ADHD that doesn't get talked about much ime is we tend to over-explain, part out of just excitement/interest in whatever it is that has our attention, and also in part because we're used to people not necessarily following the leaps our minds take when jumping around rather than proceeding in an orderly thought pattern.....so, part of why I break things down so incrementally is I literally just don't know where my way of looking at things diverges from the way neurotypical thinking views things, so I want to draw as detailed a map as possible in order to ensure the most people possible can follow my thought process, just in case.

(And again see, this is something you might already know, and hell, you could have ADHD yourself, I just literally have no way of knowing that so rather than just mention it and be like "oh and also I have ADHD and so that's something to keep in mind" I'd rather explain WHY I feel that's particularly relevant to your question, since I'm kinda like, why not answer as fully as I have the spoons for? People can stop reading at any time if I go on too long. Its fine).

As for the specific asks you're referencing - my response to the gen z anon was not meant to convey that the sort of things you're describing don't occur among gen z, so sorry for giving that impression. Its actually the opposite of my point, which was simply that I don't think its a generational thing, or that anything is gained by treating it as a generational thing. This kind of behavior exists in gen z, yes, but it also existed before gen z. Its not gen z SPECIFIC, or limited to just that generation. That's all.

And the other ask, the one you made about Barbara - to be honest, I don't have anyway of knowing for sure which one you meant, and there are a couple it could have been, but if its the one I THINK you're referencing, I believe you asked how to stop people from assuming you dislike Barbara for reasons rooted in ableism when its because of other things? If that's the one, then I mean, the thing is....I DID answer your question, in as much as anyone could. I addressed the perceptions other people might have of your stance there, but basically - there IS no way to ever ensure people take you at your word or any kind of guarantee you can present your POV in a way that won't be misrepresented or misunderstood. So ultimately, I just had no real useful advice for that?

And so I expanded into the only thing I think anyone CAN control, aka their own thoughts and words, and suggested that you just double check to be sure of your own possible biases that others might read into your words without you being aware you were putting them in there. That wasn't meant as an insult or to suggest you hadn't already examined yourself for possible ableism - it was simply saying it never hurts to check again, y'know? We don't always catch everything every time we do a self-review, and internal biases are inherently tricky to pick up on ourselves. And it just loops back into the fact that I really had no way to know what you had and hadn't already considered, you're essentially a blank cipher to me....and in my experience, a lot of people are a lot more ableist than they realize.

And this isn't an insult either! It applies to me and I'M physically disabled! I'm constantly to this day unpacking new realizations about how I still have more ableist views and opinions than even I realize, even after about five years of living with chronic pain, vertigo, nerve issues and associated problems stemming from only half a working mouth lol. I'm not trying to insult people by asking them to just do what I do every day and just like....make sure I'm not the problem when other people have a problem with me. Because sometimes, even after reflecting as fully and genuinely as I can, I think they're still wrong! I don't have to agree with their conclusions! But that doesn't mean that they're never right.

And for the record, I do think its still worth examining on your end, because I don't love that you said your issues with Barbara have nothing to do with her appearance, when we're talking about ableism specifically. It very well could be just a poor word choice on your part and not a reflection of your actual views, but it could also be a suggestion that you tend to think of physical disability as something that's limited to there being a visual sign of, and there's a lot of invisible symptoms and changes to the ways a disabled person interacts with society and society with them that don't alter a disabled person's appearance in anyway...and many of these things are the exact stuff a lot of unacknowledged ableism revolves around.

So I'd like to give you and other anons more credit and the benefit of the doubt and assume you know what you're talking about and don't need things broken down as much as I tend to break them down to - but keep in mind I don't OWE you that, and its a lot to ask someone to take you on faith when you've already made the conscious choice to present yourself to them anonymously, and deliberately limit how much a person even CAN know about you before answering, when you have an equal opportunity to present yourself by name, allowing someone the full context afforded by your blog, that they can use to familiarize themselves with you and what you likely do or don't know before answering. I don't think its entirely reasonable to anonymize YOURSELF and then expect people to still give you the benefit of the doubt.

Especially when not giving you the benefit of the doubt only really results in me over-explaining something you don't think you need explained in certain ways or in as much depth. Its not hurting anyone, and you're not going to be the only one reading this response and maybe that over-explanation ISN'T something other people know and it could still be of use to someone else, y'know?

But lastly, please keep in mind that you came to me, and I just answered in the way that made the most sense to me. If that didn't work for you or wasn't what you're looking for, that's fine, but like. You knew way more about me going into this interaction than I could possibly know about you, and assuming good faith of you and your interest in my response and giving you as much of a response as I did in the first place, let alone now, IS giving you the benefit of the doubt in the sense that I'm assuming you can find some way in which these responses are of use to you.

And if not, like....just don't send me more asks? LOL. I kinda feel like you just didn't expect the answer you got, and that's sitting weirdly with you. Which I get, to be honest, but I don't particularly think that's a me problem, because that has nothing to do with anything I can control.

I can only give the answer that occurs to me when I read and think about an ask. I can't guarantee it'll ever be the answer the asker actually WANTS.

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inevitably-johnlocked · 4 years

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any recs for old!Johnlock? (Preferably not retired) Thanks!

Hi Nonny!

Ohhh, hmm. You know, I have absolutely READ older-couple Johnlock fics, but the only ones I’m remembering are when they’re retired or “not together but have got together when they old and dying” LOL.

I did a list last year for Retirementlock fics, and I do have new stuff but not a lot, so is it okay if I do “Retirement and Older Johnlock” fics for you? I hope so!! I tag them retirement if it’s retirement, so you can skip those ones

Feel free, my friends, to add your own!!

RETIREMENT and OLDER JOHNLOCK (Jan 2020)

Our Bodies Bend Light by lovetincture (G, 1,211 w., 1 Ch. || Established Relationship, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Beekeeping, Retirement) – They got married. Of course they got married. Snapshots in a relationship. There’s a jar of bees in the bookstore and a cottage in Sussex. Sherlock’s not the marrying kind, and John’s tried this once before, but they’re Sherlock and John. Of course.

Fine Print by mistyzeo (E, 4,224 w., 1 Ch. || ACD Holmes || Est. Rel, Retirementlock, Glasses, Oral, Hand Jobs, Bees) – Holmes needs glasses, but he’s too much of a stubborn arse to go get his eyes checked. Watson is used to bullying him for his own good. The glasses have unexpected but not unwelcome consequences for everyone.

a very soft epilogue (my love) by darcylindbergh (E, 5,395 w., 3 Ch. || Retirement, Domestic Fluff, Dancing, Dogs, Grumpy Old Men) – Across the pillows, Sherlock shifts and hums, the creases of his face deepening and then smoothing before settling. John watches him wake up, his chest swelling with affection and fondness, and thinks he’ll never get tired of Sherlock in the mornings, sleepy and soft. It’s been some forty-odd years, and John hasn’t gotten tired of it yet. Part 5 of things fairy tales are made of

Second Waltz by Atiki (T, 6,685 w. 1 Ch. || Magical Realism, Missed Chances, Retirement, Sussex, Bees, MCD, Angst with Happy Ending, Fluff, Cancer) – “The night I died, you wished I could wait for you.”

Abatement by WhimsicalEthnographies (E, 6,816 w., 1 Ch. || Est. Rel., Retirementlock, Fluff, Sherlock’s Self Esteem, Grumpy Sherlock, Idiots in Love, PWP, Fluff and Smut, Bottomlock) – “What’s wrong with you? You love the cottage,” John glances over to the passenger seat, then quickly turns his eyes back to the road. Driving was still not his forte, but considering Sherlock still couldn’t properly bend and lift his new knee enough to press and release the clutch, he had to make do. Not that Sherlock hadn’t tried to argue his way into the driver’s seat. “I love the cottage for a week or two, John. Don’t be deliberately obstuse,” Sherlock grumbles, sinking further in his seat. Well, as best he can with a four-week-old knee replacement. “And that’s all we’re going for, love,” John says out loud. But what he’s thinking is, shit. He knows.

A Lifetime Together by LondonGypsy (M, 8,886 w., 1 Ch. || Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Falling in Love, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Pining Idiots, Alternating POVs, Domestics, Retirement) – John and Sherlock falling in love.

Five Times Sherlock Realized He Was Getting Older by Mildred Graves (T, 9,215 w., 6 Ch. || Five and Ones, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Getting Old) – … And one time it didn’t matter.

In The End by whitchry9 (K+, 9,677 w. || Memento Fusion || Amnesia, Growing Old, Hurt / Comfort, Friendship, Heavy Angst) – When a brain injury leaves Sherlock unable to make new memories, John wonders how Sherlock will cope, and what it will mean for The Work and their life. Because after all, how can you live if you can’t feel time passing?

Through the Clouds by Mazarin221b (E, 20,004 w., 6 Ch. || Retirement, Sussex, Bees, Home Improvement, First Time, Romance) – Sherlock takes a remarkably early retirement at 47, and convinces John that a change of pace would do them both good. They buy an old cottage on the South Downs, and exchange their nonstop life in Baker Street for quiet contemplation, bee studies, and book writing. They might go completely insane, but sometimes it takes stepping outside of the life you’re living to find the life you want. Part 1 of Through The Clouds

echoes through time by chellefic (E, 21,619 w. || First Time, Romance, ACD & BBC, Epistolary) – Mummy sends a trunk from the Holmes cottage in Sussex to 221B. Its contents alter the way John and Sherlock see themselves and one another.

A Shipless Ocean by myswordfishmind (M, 22,135 w., 4 Ch. || Post-TRF, John has a Kid, Angst, Reunion, Falling in Love, Open Ending) – Ten years after the fall Sherlock goes back to London to find that John no longer lives there. Instead, he resides in a seaside town, a widower, and the father of a seven year old son. Now, Sherlock must struggle with the fact that there may no longer be a place for him in this new world.

The Wisteria Tree by SilentAuror (E, 29,773 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S3, Emotional Love Making, Amnesia/Memory Loss, Sherlock Loves John So Much, Sherlock POV, Romance, Angst with Happy Ending, First Times, Hurt/Comfort, Est. Rel., Retirement) – Sherlock wakes up from a month-long coma only to discover that he has no memory of the previous six years to his own shock as well as John’s…

The Winter Garden by Callie4180 (T, 31,213 w., 13 Ch. || Post-S4, Retirement, Christmas, Slow Burn, Grown-Up Rosie, Parenthood, Rosie’s Cat, Angst with Happy Ending, Holidays, Beekeeping, Magical Realism, Sherlock POV, Sherlock’s Violin, Future Fic, Sussex, Honey, Magical Healing Honey, Love Confessions, Sherlock’s Scar, First Kiss, Touching, Mycroft is Dying) – As Sherlock nears the end of his career, he’s given the gift of a cottage in Sussex. The honey from the beehives out back is amazing. Almost…magical.

Chaperones by MissDavis (T, 34,114 w., 7 Ch. || 11 Years Post-S4, Fake Relationship, Parentlock, Disney World, Bed / Room Sharing, Friends to Lovers, Fluff, First Kiss, Obsessive Sherlock, Insecure John) – Right. Of course. Everyone assumed they were a couple and no one would question it. John put his elbows up on the table so he could rest his head in his hands. “You want to pretend to be a couple so we can chaperone a trip to Disney World with Rosie’s class and you won’t have to share a room with a stranger?” “Exactly.” Sherlock beamed at him. “Don’t worry about the cost. The Birmingham case last month paid more than enough to cover expenses for all three of us.”

Where Else Would I Be? by cwb (E, 34,910 w., 10 Ch. || Retirementlock, Domestic Fluff, Falling in Love, Parentlock, Fluff and Smut, Reminiscing) – John and Sherlock’s five-year-old granddaughter spends the weekend with them in Sussex. Sherlock happily indulges her whims, and John takes care of them while quietly revisiting the past thirty years of their lives together.

Only To Be With You by SinceWhenDoYouCallMe_John (M, 40,768 w., 4 Ch. || Black Mirror / Future AU || Character Death, Future Technology, Sickness/Cancer/Illness, Heavy Angst with Happy Ending, First Person POV John, Pining John, Heart-Wrenching Angst) – I tell myself that next time I’ll come near this same place again. Wait around for the mysterious stranger in his coat to dash past me, hot on the heels of a new criminal in black. I think this all the way back to my Exit, planning where I’ll wait and what I’ll say when I see him. Scheming on how to get his name. It’s only once I reach the Exit Point door that I realize two hours and forty-five minutes have passed, and I realize that this won’t be the last time I Visit. It won’t be the last time at all.

between each beat are words unsaid by darcylindbergh, hudders-and-hiddles (T, 107,998 w., 215 Ch. || Epistolary, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Angst, Happy Ending) – On their wedding night, John and Sherlock gift each other with the things they each said when the other could not hear, the things they each put down where the other could not see: a collection of writings that illustrate the way their love for one another has grown over the years. Part 1 of between each beat

Unkissed Series by 221b_hound (T to E, 184,100 w. across 45 works || Established Relationship, Ace Sherlock) – Sherlock returned from the dead a year ago. John returned to Baker Street six months ago. They’ve been in a couple since then. or at least, not NOT a couple. For two smart men, they sure can be dumb. Luckily, an art thief tries to drown Sherlock, Sherlock has a fever dream and things are about to change.

Sketchy by serpentynka (E, 184,053 w., 83 Ch. || Post-TRF, Post-Mary, John Whump, Slow Burn Love Story, Case Fic, Art, Porn With Feelings, Switchlock, Travelling, Career Change, Family Secrets, Illness / Health) – What (and who) will be left when nobody cares about your Work? A slow-burn fic with cases, places, mistaken identities, unfair choices, essential changes, violent feels, blatant lies, fearless portraiture, family secrets, high-risk bespoke gifts, durable friendships, bedtime stories, foreign travel and tongues, sickness (and health), and the significance of things which are slow to unfurl – but cannot be ignored. Oh, and…porn. Part 1: Sherlock takes on an obvious case (barely a 4) and meets someone who will force him to re-examine what it means to see. Part 1 of Sketchy

MARKED FOR LATER

The Last of the Honey Bees by what_alchemy (T, 2,000 w., 1 Ch. || Apocalypse, Retirement) – “When we’re all space dust… when all of this is gone? My molecules will find yours.”

A One-Track Life by JennLynn77 (E, 13,526 w., 7 Ch. || Post S4/TFP, Parentlock, Est. Rel., Medical Procedures, Anal, Cuddling/Snuggling, Bed Sharing, Surgery, Physical Therapy, Retirement, Sherlock Whump, Caring John, Bottomlock, Endearments, Drug Addiction, Triggers) – A medical situation threatens to derail the plans Sherlock had for his life with John and Rosie.

Deck the Halls by itsalwaysyou_jw (T, 31,018 w., 24 Ch. || Advent Fic / Multiple One-Shots, Assorted Tags) – One Johnlock ficlet for every day leading up to Christmas. Who is ready for pining, first kisses, established Johnlock, and everything in between? This collection of stand-alone ficlets will have it all. (Ch. 7 is the Retirement Fic)

FictoberLock 2018 by FinAmour & unicornpoe (M, 60,875 w., 31 Ch. || Halloween, Protective John, Smitten Sherlock, Fluff, First Kiss, Injured Sherlock, Various Prompts) – 31 different prompts, 31 Johnlock fics: one every day for the month of October! Each chapter is a stand-alone story. Some are written by unicornpoe, some by FinAmour, and some are written by us both! They range in length from ~500 words to ~3500 words, and there’s something in here for everyone. (Ch. 23 is the Retirement Chapter)

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #retirement #older johnlock #retirementlock #Anonymous #fic rec sunday #my fic recs

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emblemxeno · 4 years

Text

Xander Support Science Rebuttal/Review + How Mediocre Localization Could Change A Character (1/2)

A couple of days ago I said I would do this because I haven’t watched the videos in question in a long time, and I wanted to see if I would hold the same opinions that I do now. In short, yeah, I do. (Part 2 of this Post)

The videos in question by Ghast (going by Faerghast now) can be found here: Part 1 Part 2

You’ve all most likely seen my posts and short analyses about Fates’ writing, it’s localization, and Xander as a whole. I wanted to make this rebuttal/review, not just as a way to get my differing opinion out there, but to also provide context on how translation and localization can alter a character’s interpretation with even the slightest change, and a brief summary on how Xander was supposed to be written from the get go.

TL;DR (Though I highly recommend reading the whole thing to really understand the point I am trying to make with this series of posts):

Xander’s character was altered in the localization due to a number of changes made that either replace/remove the original context of his writing, or add things that weren’t even present in the first place. The reason why I’m doing a rebuttal against these videos in the first place is because the greater community cite these videos as the correct interpretation of Xander, with there being no acknowledgement of localization being a factor of why Xander seems so inconsistent and poorly written. Further worsening the issue is Ghast’s own reading of Xander’s character, by roping him into a few select traits, and ignoring others.

Before moving on with the meat of the review, I’d like to link some things that would be useful to read/watch when they’ll be referenced in these posts:

- Analysis of the relationship between Garon and the Nohrian siblings (aka the abusive royal household)

- Xander’s Japanese supports with Camilla and Corrin. Here is a link to the localized Fates supports in order to spot differences.

-English patched playthroughs of the JP version of the game done by Linkmstr (Pre-decision Birthright Conquest Revelation) as well as a link to said patch done by a team on Serenes.

-A link to the chapters of Fates, each one has a link to the script of said chapter.

(I’ll also be using quotes from Ghast in the videos, usually marked by time stamps)

Xander Summary

Xander is an intimidating figure who is seen as a stoic and unemotional Crown Prince. In actuality, he’s merely an introverted dude riddled with trauma, and is unable to express his emotions in a “normal” way. The person who’s feared by tons of people in Hoshido is the same guy who gets anxiety during public speaking (dealing with this by imagining his audience as bunnies or carrots depending on the version) and who’s greatest fear as a child was his own father (as revealed in the Boo Camp DLC).

He’s also heavily suicidal, a result of each time having to kill his enemies weighing heavily on his heart and his psyche.

While he seems to be relatively put together, all of these aforementioned factors influence his character, and the dichotomy of appealing to his duty as Crown Prince and appealing to his emotions. Moreover, it has lead him into a deep seated denial of his father’s evil actions, trying to justify or excuse the things Garon had done, a fairly common symptom of an abused child. Not only that, but it has lead him to believe that betraying Garon is synonymous with betraying his family and all of Nohr, something he finds inexcusable and outrageous, and only breaks out of this way of thinking once he witnesses Garon become truly monstrous.

And while trying to do what’s best for his people and his family are major parts of his character, they are not the only ones, and as we see in the game, they lead to him doing things that some would see as OOC, but actually are pretty reasonable if you dig deep into what makes Xander, well, Xander.

The Beginning

Unfortunately, a lot of this is lost in localization, which preferred to make him less introverted and more... observational and witty? He’s more confrontational in the localization, but only sometimes when the story needs him to be, making him look inconsistent and badly written. He tends to preach a lot more, but ends up contradicting himself through his words and actions. Almost all of these are issues added by the localized script, and either were completely different or just plain absent in the original JP script.

And the reason why this rebuttal exists, is because the videos blame the game’s writing instead of this very faulty translation, made even worse by the fact that Ghast’s channel is popular because of story/character analyses, so not mentioning how translation can affect story telling is the first glaring issue with the support science.

The first video starts with the main issue, how Fates has character’s written well in supports, but not in the main campaign. That’s the main thing with this, so I’ll save an overview for it later.

Mistranslated Support Lines

-At 2:25, Ghast talks about Support Xander, starting off with the Camilla-Xander support. The line in question that’s referenced is how Xander deliberately cultivated the image of him being stoic and seemingly uncaring. However, this isn’t true, Xander didn’t cultivate the image in the original JP support, he just ended up realizing that was how people saw him and thought it would be too much of a hassle to change it. This fits in line with how he acts later in the story, as an introverted character, he’s ultimately non-confrontational unless pushed to the limit.

-At 7:55, the Corrin support is brought up. This is the support that is the key reason why Xander is seen as two different characters between story and supports. The line where Xander said he’s now strong enough to stand up against Garon whenever he felt like it wasn’t present at all in the original JP support. Hence, continuing on with the idea that Xander is not as confrontational as he seems, and preferred to swing his sword to let out his emotions instead.

-Ghast then goes on to discuss why there’s this discrepancy between Xander in supports and story, where Xander supposedly acts out of character by fighting Corrin in chapter 2 on Garon’s orders (at 14:31):

“For this segment of the video, bear in mind what has been established about Support Xander so far. The feats that Support xander has disclosed from his past, particularly his courageousness to engage Garon in yelling fights and pre-established love for Corrin is entirely contradicted from the offset of the game...Given their (Xander and Garon’s) relationship before the game even starts, the game provides absolutely no reason why Xander would behave in such a sheepish way to his father. Where is the bravery he was talking about before? Wht did Xander hope to accomplish by striking at Corrin? Did he want to disable her? Did he intentionally want to harm her for Garon’s sake?”

Except that’s not true. Applying what we know with Xander being non confrontational, scared to death of his father, being all too familiar with family dying around him, etc, and this scene really isn’t too out of character. But it seems so because of the lines added in the English script.

Adherence To Select Traits

-At 16:10-18:20, he goes on to claim that Xander’s reaction to Corrin choosing to fight for Hoshido is uncharacteristic and ‘stupid’ because of the former’s pre-established observational skills, doubts of Garon, and tendency to stand against his father when he disagrees with him (all of which are more exaggerated/added in the English script).

Besides the fact that Xander wasn’t written to be someone who regularly stands up to his father in the first place, the insistence that Xander remains strictly observational and pragmatic in these scenarios is the first big issue I have with these videos.

Ghast picks certain traits and latches them onto Xander without considering others that might influence the his actions; it’s true that Xander’s awareness of Corrin’s situation might have let him come to terms with the Hoshido family wanting them back, and yes they were kidnapped, BUT they were also raised as if actual siblings for over a decade, and feelings/attachment towards one's family is hard to let go of. Wanting Xander to be more accepting of Corrin’s choice of going back to Hoshido and, to him, abandon their family and everything they’ve had, just to have him continue to have his hidden awareness/familial observation be more forward completely betrays the fact that they’re still family, and Xander as a person should be allowed to have feelings and still love his sibling.

The point that’s apparently tried to be made is for consistency’s sake, but what good is this supposed consistency when it doesn’t make sense for a family member to just accept their sibling siding with their enemy. Ghast goes on to say that he’d rather Xander say ‘I’m sorry for keeping secrets from you and I’ll follow up on those claims about Garon, but please come back’, and that’s basically what he says, but instead of trying to understand why Xander would react the way he would he instead reduces Xander’s reaction to a childish ‘Get Bent, Traitor’.

Xander’s dedication to his family and his country aren’t mutually exclusive, at least to him. So when Corrin decides to break ties with Nohr, Xander sees it as them throwing away their family, friends, and every good memory they’ve had. Aside from the fact that Xander’s vehement defense of Garon is a result of having an abusive/destructive childhood, the shock of and surge of emotion from Corrin choosing to, from Xander’s perspective, betray everything they’ve had together is in my opinion, a perfectly fine reason for why Xander acts like he does. Ghast says this type of read of the situation is stupid, which isn’t a valid criticism and he doesn’t even go into why he believes so, and says it’s uncharacteristic, even though it really isn’t but the localization and his own insistence on having Xander adhere to a select few traits makes it seem that way.

Misplaced Criticism

-At 18:01 ”It’s alright for Xander to continue to try and persuade Corrin to rejoin Nohr, but he ought to be able to understand Corrin’s wavering loyalty. It’s hypocritical for Xander to flagrantly and ignorantly criticize Corrin for their decision and distance himself the most despite being made out to be the closest to them”

Why? Again this ignores Xander’s own character having thoughts and feelings of his own, but also wouldn’t it make sense for the one to be closest to Corrin to be the most affected by it, and ergo the have the most negative reaction?

-Talks about the Xander line at chapter 12 at 18:28, “Xander doesn’t make connections around the circumstances regarding Corrin’s betrayal after 5 chapters” He says this makes Xander out to be someone who has no observational skills, but in regards to what? Making connections to the reasons behind Corrin’s betrayal, leading him to question and go against his father? Well, that reasoning hinges on the fact that Xander is the person who would stand up to his father in situations like these in the first place, but he isn’t. Any lines indicating such are a result of the localization adding them in.

The criticism of Xander’s observation skills doesn’t make sense. In the context of the situation, where Xander is engaging a loved family member after they betrayed the Kingdom (which to Xander is synonymous with betraying the family), why are his observational skills being brought up? The reason why he’s engaging could just be summarized as “he’s angry and hurt that Corrin would fight their family”. A completely justified reaction to what Xander has been experiencing. But instead this is ignored in favor of criticizing Xander for not having the awareness of why Corrin betrayed Nohr, and the awareness of Garon being evil. Ghast says “Story Xander is unable to catch on that his dad is going bonkers” Simply put, it’s most likely that Xander IS aware, but keeps it locked deep down due to deep seeded denial. In chapter 27, (taken from English patch of JP version) he says as much:

Garon: Just what do you know about me...?

Xander: I should be saying that to you... Just what do you know about Father…?! ...All this time, I acted like I didn’t notice. No matter what the order, I obeyed. And that, in the end, you would return to your normal self. That’s what I believed. But, now, Father is… already…

Said denial had run so far, that it took Xander seeing Garon as a literal grotesque monster for him to finally break free.

Xander’s Way of Thinking

-At 20:05, “While it’s true that Garon is family and Corrin is seemingly betraying that family, Xander’s supports suggest that he would at least consider Corrin’s motivations before putting a sword through her'' 1) it’s not seemingly, Corrin is pretty much betraying her family by choosing one nation over the other, made worse by the fact that Nohr is synonymous with family to Xander, making this worse 2) it’s completely possible that Xander does understand Corrin’s motivations by this point, but is simply too angry and hurt by his sibling’s betrayal to care or acknowledge. “It makes it seem like Story Xander has no critical thinking skills or has lost every ounce of empathy he has that’s established in his supports” or that this is just his reaction to these events, as I previously said? It’s not Xander lacking critical thought that’s the driving point here, he believes that Corrin going against Nohr, means that they’re going against him, their family, all of the innocent people in Nohr, everything they’ve had together.

This includes Garon, because as a result of his upbringing, he justifies any shitty action Garon does because he’s clinging to any good thing his father has done, and desperately denies that he could be evil, because ‘how could the person that raised and cared for me be as bad as my brother/sister, who threw everything our family had together in our face, says he is. I love my sibling dearly, but asking to betray my father is asking to betray my family, my country, and my people, I can’t do that’; that’s essentially Xander’s way of thinking. Extreme, yes, but people don’t always do what’s considered the right thing just because it’s the right thing. There’s a whole slew of factors I’ve already explained as to why Xander would be hard pressed to betray Garon.

---

Anyway, this is what I have for today. There will be 2 (maybe 3?) more posts in regards to the rest of my notes. I hope you enjoyed the start of this, please leave any replies and asks and reblogs on any things you liked about this and anything you think I could improve on!

#fire emblem #fire emblem fates #fire emblem if #fire emblem 14 #fe14 #xander fire emblem #marx fire emblem #fire emblem opinions

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lostinthewinterwood · 3 years

Text

Past Imperfect

Right, so, uh. About that letter…

Well, it’s a bit late, but here you go. I haven’t done much in the way of prompts—the tags themselves are pretty good prompts, I feel, and I… sure did think I had more prompts in my head than are currently present—but I’ve at least consolidated it all in one place! Sorry it took me so long.

I’ve also requested all these fandoms before, so if you want to see more I’ve written about them check out the fandom-specific request tags for previous letters.

General DNW

non-con/dub-con;

explicit sexual content;

incest (incl. adoptive/chosen family);

a/b/o;

mpreg;

non-canonical permanent major character death;

complete downer endings;

hurt no comfort;

heavy angst;

on-page deliberate self-harm*;

on-page suicide;

gore;

graphic physical trauma;

character bashing;

cringe comedy;

fic-as-writer-soapbox;

fic that’s all about real-world bigotries or real-world politics;

canon-typical 2020;

unrequested full-setting AUs;

unrequested identity headcanons;

unrequested romance as the main plot.

*I don’t include things like, say, punching a wall in a fit of emotion under this. However, something like cutting would not be appreciated.

General Likes

– I really like plotty fics

– Secret identity and disguise shenanigans, the more layers to them and more absurdity the better.

– Crossdressing for whatever reason and gender disguises, also for whatever reason, though not as a fetish thing—that I enjoy less.

– Time travel and time loops are always fun (as i say for every exchange, but it’s a little obvious here innit)

– A focus on family and/or friendship, especially characters realizing they’re not nearly as alone as they think they are, and just generally characters who like each other and enjoy spending time together

– Found family; families of choice

– Character studies

– Worldbuilding

– Canon-divergence AUs and missing scenes; things set pre- or post-canon; wriggling into canon and poking at it to see what it spits back at you, if that description makes any sense at all.

Mother of Learning - nobody103

Fanfiction – Relationship

· Group: Zorian Kazinski & Zach Noveda (Mother of Learning)

· Group: Raynie & Kiana (Mother of Learning)

· Group: Kirielle Kazinski & Zorian Kazinski (Mother of Learning)

· Kirielle Kazinski (Mother of Learning)

fandom-specific dnw: romantic and/or sexual Zach/Zorian; physical parental abuse within the Kazinski family; significant exaggeration of canonical emotional neglect/abuse/general family dysfunction

· Canon Characters Meet Too Many Meddlers from the Future

· Character Gets Stranded With A Past or Future Version of Themselves

· Character Travels Back to When They Were Still a Massive Jackass

· different type of time travel than in canon

· different time traveler(s) than in canon

· Fixing the Timeline Requires Saving An Enemy

· Future Character Can't Tell Past Character Their Fate

· Peggy Sue

· Physical Time Travel to Past

· Secret Identity of Loved One Discovered While Stuck in Time Loop

· Spell goes wrong and results in time travel

· Stuck In A Time Loop With The Worst Person

· Time Loop/Groundhog Day - Groundhog Peggy Sue

· Time Travel Doesn't Work How Characters Think It Does; This Becomes A Problem

· Time Travel due to a Magical Artefact

· Time Travel due to a Magical Curse

· Time travel due to magical artifact breaking

· Time Travel Fix-it - Time Travelers Disagree On How To Fix The Problem

· Time Travel For Fun And Profit

· Time Travel into Body of Past Self Results in Cohabitation

· Time Travel to Close Causation Circle and Preserve the Present

· Time travel via magical locale

· Time Traveller Cannot Reveal Their True Identity

· Time Travelling Character is Wildly Overpowered

Star Wars: Rebels

Fanfiction – Relationship

· Group: Ahsoka Tano & Darth Vader (SW:R)

· Group: Garazeb "Zeb" Orrelios/Alexsandr Kallus (SW:R)

Fandom-specific dnw: apologetics for space fascists

· Accidental Time Travel

· Character from future needs help from past version of beloved

· Character From Future Tries To Convince Current Enemy To Work Together

· Character Travels Back to When They Were Still a Massive Jackass

· Enemies Travel Back In Time Together

· Enemies-to-Lovers - Time Traveller Must Convince Enemy That They're Lovers in the Future

· Future Character Can't Tell Past Character Their Fate

· Peggy Sue

· Redeemed Villain Travels to Before Their Redemption

· Time Loop

· Time Loop - Fixing Character Death

· Time Loop - Mother of Learning rules and mechanics

· Time Loop/Groundhog Day - Both Characters Stuck in Loop

· Time Loop/Groundhog Day - Groundhog Peggy Sue

· Time Travel Fix-It - Derailing The Bad Guy's Descent Into Evil

· Time Travel into Body of Past Self Results in Cohabitation

· Time Travel into Body of Past Self Replacing Past Self

· Time Travel Through the Force

· Time Travel to Save Someone

· Time Travel Via A Spaceship Flying Through A Wormhole

· Time Traveler Trying to Change the Past is Hampered by Lack of Full Knowledge of the Past

· Time Traveller Cannot Reveal Their True Identity

Secret Society of Second-Born Royals (2020)

Fanfiction – Relationship

· Any Character

o Group: Catherine & Eleanor & Sam (SSoSBR)

o Group: January & Matteo & Roxana & Sam & Tuma (SSoSBR)

o Group: Sam & Eleanor (SSoSBR)

o Group: Sam & January (SSoSBR)

o Group: Sam & Mike Kleinberg (SSoSBR)

o Group: Sam/January (SSoSBR)

o Eleanor (Secret Society of Second-Born Royals)

o January (Secret Society of Second-Born Royals)

o Sam (Secret Society of Second-Born Royals)

Fandom-specific dnw: January as purely, irredeemably evil; absolute monarchy as unambiguously purely good.

Fandom-specific note: since I’d be super down for politics if they’re the politics of Illyria or the other countries the kids are from, it would be a bit silly to fully dnw real-world politics in this real-world-adjacent setting. Don’t worry about referencing real politics if that’s where you go with your fic; however, I would rather any focused-on politics be filtered through the context of the fictional countries the film uses, and please don’t reference real-world American politics post-2015. “unrequested full setting aus” dnw has been modified to “unrequested mundane aus” so if you want to, idk, put them in a fairytale au or a sports-but-still-have-powers au or something—go right ahead.

· Character From Future Tries To Convince Current Enemy To Work Together

· Enemies Travel Back In Time Together

· Enemies-to-Lovers - Time Traveller Must Convince Enemy That They're Lovers in the Future

· Redeemed Villain Travels to Before Their Redemption

· Secret Identity of Loved One Discovered While Stuck in Time Loop

· Stuck In A Time Loop With The Worst Person

· Time Loop

· Time Loop - Character and Enemy Are the Only People Aware of Looping

· Time Loop - Enemies Have To Work Together To Solve The Loop

· Time Loop - Intentionally Created for Problem Solving

· Time Loop - Looping character trying to save another character's life

· Time Loop - Mother of Learning rules and mechanics

· Time Travel Fix-It - Altering Canon or Backstory

· Time Travel Fix-It - Derailing The Bad Guy's Descent Into Evil

· Time Travel Fix-It - Seducing the Villain to Save the World/Timeline

· Time Travel Fix-it - Team Trying To Fix The Problem Together

· Time Travel Fix-it - Time Travelers Disagree On How To Fix The Problem

· Time travel to secretly visit deceased loved one

· Time Traveller Cannot Reveal Their True Identity

· Time Travelling Character is Wildly Overpowered

Original Work

Fanfiction – Relationship

· Group: Child Superhero & Their Concerned Supervillain Nemesis (OW)

· Group: Male Student Mage Disguised as a Girl/Female Fellow Student Mage (OW)

· Group: Male Student Mage Disguised as a Girl & Female Fellow Student Mage (OW)

· Group: Male Student Mage Disguised as a Girl/Female Student Warrior Disguised as a Boy (OW)

· Group: Male Student Mage Disguised as a Girl & Female Student Warrior Disguised as a Boy (OW)

· Group: Male Student Mage Disguised as a Girl & Male Student Warrior (OW)

· Group: Male Student Mage Disguised as a Girl & His Older Female Mentor (OW)

· Group: Spellsword Mercenary & Mathemagician (OW)

· Junior Priestess with Unusually Strong Magic (OW)

fandom-specific dnw: age gaps in ships of more than 3 or so years when one character is underage; predatory manipulation between characters in the relationship in service of the relationship–if characters are manipulating each other for non-relationship things and such that’s okay, but i’d rather both parties in any of the ships be interested in the romance of their own accord. Additionally, please don’t have characters react to any gender-disguised characters (or characters in general, but it’s most relevant to them) in transphobic or transphobic-adjacent ways (i.e. none of the characters are requested as trans, but I still wouldn’t want to see the kinds of comments people make about trans people aimed at them). I’d also rather not see any kind of serious relationship with at least one character disguising their gender pre-reveal of that disguise–flirting, starting to date a little is okay but if it’s going further please have them reveal it. Please don’t play into the idea of gender-disguised character as “trap”. If actual trans characters are present, then some transphobia isn’t a hard dnw—my gift in Heart Attack didn’t bother me at all.

also dnw characters requested as gender-disguised to be written as trans or to be written as absolutely loathing their disguise. other characters are fair game. if writing trans characters, dnw them to be explicitly nondysphoric (but not addressing it is fine).

…in my signup I alleged that there was some expansion to be had here, but I honestly have absolutely no idea what I was planning to write. Sorry about that.

fandom-specific note: the “setting au” dnw obviously does not apply here; my typical “identity headcanon” au dnw has been replaced by a dnw for “marginalized identities as the main focus of a fic” since there isn’t exactly a canon here lol.

· Accidentally Becoming a Famous Historical Figure Through Time Travel

· Adjusting to a Different Era

· Backwards Time Traveler Realizes They've Become a True Seer

· Character Gets Stranded With A Past or Future Version of Themselves

· Character Has Control of Mental Time Travel and Uses It to Save Scum

· Character Meets Their Child Self

· Character Travels Back to When They Were Still a Massive Jackass

· Making friends with a past version of an enemy

· One character likes other character's past self way more than they expected

· Peggy Sue

· Redeemed Villain Travels to Before Their Redemption

· Secret Identity of Loved One Discovered While Stuck in Time Loop

· Spell goes wrong and results in time travel

· Stuck In A Time Loop With The Worst Person

· Time Loop - Character and Enemy Are the Only People Aware of Looping

· Time Loop - Enemies Have To Work Together To Solve The Loop

· Time Loop - Mother of Learning rules and mechanics

· Time Loop/Groundhog Day - Both Characters Stuck in Loop

· Time Loop/Groundhog Day - Groundhog Peggy Sue

· Time Travel - Cannot get back to own time period

· Time Travel due to a Magical Artefact

· Time Travel due to a Magical Curse

· Time travel due to magical artifact breaking

· Time Travel Fix-It - Derailing The Bad Guy's Descent Into Evil

· Time Travel for Historical Research

· Time Travel to Close Causation Circle and Preserve the Present

· Time travel via magical locale

· Time Traveler Must Pretend To Be Identical Looking Family Member

· Time traveler stranded in past has to take the long way back to their correct time

· Time Traveler Trying to Change the Past is Hampered by Lack of Full Knowledge of the Past

· Time Traveller Cannot Reveal Their True Identity

· Time Travelling Character is Wildly Overpowered

· Year Inside Hour Outside

#exchange letters #requested: fic #requested: mother of learning #requested: star wars #requested: star wars rebels #requested: original work #requested: secret society of second born royals

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mgmirani · 5 years

Text

A Second Chance

(Reuploading this post since Tumblr mobile somehow ate it)

So! This is my entry for Soukoku Week 2019! ( @soukokuweek19 ) I’m not entirely sure how this word vomit turned into something vaguely coherent but I love it and these two adorable morons (mainly Dazai - he’s definitely the bigger moron).

This was originally written for Day 3: Reaching out but, as it went on, I realised it had drifted away from that so now I’m tagging it under Day 7: Free Day!

Hope you all enjoy reading!

Title: a Second Chance

Prompt: Day 7 - Free Day

Pairing: Soukoku (Dazai Osamu/Nakahara Chuuya)

Words: 7787

Summary: It’s a few days after the fight with Lovecraft and Dazai realises that maybe, just maybe, leaving his ex-partner alone in a field after he passed out from exhaustion wasn’t the best decision he could have made. And...wait, when did he start thinking the Chibi was pretty?

(Note: this work contains no triggering or explicit materials)

Four years…

It had been four years since he’d last seen Chuuya and yet, in that Port Mafia holding cell, fiery red hair blending into the red light, blue eyes flashing as they looked up at him, it had felt like no time had passed at all.

More time had passed since then and yet the memory was as clear in his mind as if it happened only yesterday.

Chuuya…

Ignoring Kunikida’s increasingly frequent (and loud) attempts to get him to do his paperwork, Dazai continued to slouch on the couch, eyes closed as he pictured the scene in his mind.

Thoughts of that encounter, naturally, lead him to thoughts of their second. This time, Chuuya had been bathed in blue from the light of the full moon. Red and blue...the same colour as Chuuya’s hair and eyes. It seemed almost ironic.

That encounter had taken place less than a week ago. The Guild was officially defeated thanks to himself, Chuuya, Atsushi and Akutagawa (although how on earth Lovecraft had survived to apparently jump into the sea, Dazai had no idea and no wish to understand) and things had returned to a semblance of what could be considered ‘normal’ for the residents of Yokohama.

...With the exception that there was still an uneasy truce between the ADA and the Port Mafia. Dazai held no illusions that the truce would last overly long. It was only a matter of time before they were, once again, at odds. The question wasn’t if, but when and how the uneasy peace would come crashing down.

“I used Corruption because I trusted you.”

Chuuya’s remembered words drifted through his mind and he shut his eyes more tightly, deliberately trying to turn his mind away from the accusing tone. Chuuya had been tired (he always was after using Corruption) and, though his tone had been exhausted, Dazai had still heard the reproach clear as day.

He hadn’t been entirely truthful in his answer to Chuuya’s question regarding why he hadn’t stopped him as soon as the fight was over. Oh sure, it had been fun to watch Chuuya throw about singularities like it was nothing but that hadn’t been his entire reason.

Chuuya had looked...beautiful.

The blue light, the red markings...the contrast and the sheer power that Chuuya had exuded...he couldn’t bring himself to look away. Even when he wasn’t fully in control, Chuuya always captured his attention: be it to tease or admire.

Not that his Chibi was aware of the admiration. He was far more used to the teasing, the little comments that got him all riled, all the remarks that had those pretty blue eyes flashing with anger or frustration. Dazai couldn’t stop himself, couldn’t resist putting a spark in those eyes just because he wanted it directed at him.

Was this healthy? Absolutely not. But, then again, when had Dazai Osamu ever done anything that was in his own best interest?

...okay, scratch that. When had he ever done anything for his own personal health? He was well aware that he was, in truth, rather selfish despite his attempts to be better.

He cracked open an eye to watch as Atsushi bickered with Tachihara and sent pleading looks to Kyoka for help. The girl, predictably, ignored the unsubtle requests for aid and continued to do her own work. The girl was still on a bit of an emotional high after becoming a full member of the ADA and was determined to keep up with everyone else despite the fact that she was still only fourteen and so, technically, shouldn't be expected to do the same amount of work as everyone else. Then again, she’d been in the Port Mafia and no one remained a child for long there, especially not someone who had already killed 35 people. Dazai should know. He’d long since lost count. Even so, as he stared at Atsushi’s face, tiger-gold eyes shining brightly as he gesticulated wildly, Dazai felt a smile turn up the corners of his lips.

He’d made himself better and that was reflected in Atsushi, in Kyoka, in the relationships he’d managed to somehow scrape together with the other people in the ADA despite how much of a pain in the ass he made himself. He still had a long way to go but, he thought, he’d reached some sort of state in which Odasaku might approve.

And yet…

“I used Corruption because I trusted you…”

And yet, when it came to Chuuya, he had so easily fallen into old habits. It had felt so natural, so right to tease him, to encourage that temper he was still so well known for (even if it was far more difficult for others to bring it to the surface nowadays). Dazai hadn’t even really thought about what he was doing while he interacted with Chuuya, his words and actions flowing like a well-rehearsed script which he had no need to alter, as familiar as breathing and as easy as closing his eyes at the end of a long day.

And yet…

And yet, should he not have done better?

“Take me...to the extraction point…”

Chuuya had trusted him to step in when he used Corruption and Dazai had (at his own pace). Chuuya had asked him to take him somewhere safe after using Corruption and Dazai...Dazai had left him lying on the ground in a field at midnight with his hat and coat folded neatly beside him. He’d left without so much as a backwards glance.

Chuuya had been fine and he’d known that he’d be fine. There wasn’t anyone else around when they’d left and the location was isolated enough that no one was likely to come across him so Chuuya hadn’t been in any real danger.

Still…

Asking himself if he’d done the right thing was rather redundant. He knew that he hadn’t and it was niggling at him, like a toothache which he couldn’t do anything about or an itch that he just couldn’t scratch. The urge to do...something, wouldn’t leave him alone.

There was, of course, the choice of just ignoring the problem until it went away. That wasn’t an option though. They were in the same city and their organisations were likely to either ally or antagonise each their on a regular basis from this point onwards. He was going to run into Chuuya again sooner rather than later so that was completely out of the question.

What then, should he do? Should he do anything? Would Chuuya be surprised that he’d left him there? Probably not.

That thought had Dazai frowning to himself. He’d gotten used to living up to people’s expectations of him, especially when it came to Atsushi. He’d been able to help him, to help Kyoka and the Agency as a whole that living down to Chuuya’s expectations rather than up…

He didn’t like it. He didn’t like it one bit.

He thought of the surprise that would’ve been on the Chibi’s face if he’d woken up at the extraction point and wished that he’d actually done it. He was sure the reaction would have been amusing. The anger would, of course, have also been amusing but the thought of eliciting a different reaction from the fiery redhead…

Dazai resolved that, the next time they crossed paths, he would do that. He’d make sure and take care of Chuuya if only for the surprise that would cross those expressive features, the confusion that would be hastily covered up in those pretty blue eyes…

...pretty?

Dazai blinked to himself. Since when had he thought of Chuuya’s eyes as pretty? He’d thought so earlier but he hadn’t noticed doing so at the time. Sure, he found him attractive in an “if I wasn’t attracted to women” sort of way but who didn’t? But actually considering him pretty? He’d always thought Chuuya interesting, fun to poke at and, yes, beautiful with Corruption tracing over his skin but…

...when had this happened?

Not important - alright maybe important but not the main thing he needs to focus on right now. He found Chuuya pretty but surely that didn't mean anything. He wanted to elicit more reactions from the Chibi, positive ones and not just negative ones. He wanted…

...he wanted Chuuya to look at him the way Poe was currently staring at Ranpo while the other was...looking at him.

Ranpo smirked, corners of his lips lifting up in a knowing expression, glasses reflecting the midday light coming in through the windows and Dazai felt his back stiffen.

Deciding to cut his losses, he stood, making it look as natural as possible and not like he was choosing to run away from those too-perceptive eyes, and strode purposefully from the office. Kunikida’s calls for him to return to his desk were, of course, ignored.

It was as he was closing the door taht he heard it.

“Finally.”

He paused, waiting to see what Ranpo would say next. There was nothing for a few seconds before the silence was finally broken.

“...um...what do you mean Ranpo-san?”

“Dazai finally got a clue,” was the only response Ranpo gave and Dazai felt a brief flicker of relief that the detective hadn’t said anything else. He was even more grateful that, at this point, Ranpo hadn’t actually met Chuuya.

Hmmm...now there was a thought. That could be amusing.

Mentally shaking himself, Dazai strode out of the building, debated a moment before heading back to his apartment. He wanted a quiet place to think so he could plan how best to reach out to Chuuya.

..and to process what he’d realised while lounging on the Agency’s couch this afternoon. He couldn’t exactly freak out in public now, could he? Well, he could, but he didn’t feel like drawing attention to himself for a change. Perhaps later when he was in the mood to draw interesting expressions from people other than his Chibi.

Wait...his Chibi?

Well, of course Chuuya was his. They had made that bet hadn’t they? Would Chuuya even remember it, he wondered, with everything else that had happened during those few days. Dazai did though. How could he forget the sound of Chuuya’s head hitting the console or the yell of frustration quickly cut off by surprise as he’d ducked down behind the machine, trying not to be noticed by his so-called ‘friends’ from that stupid gang. Really, Dazai had done him a favour. If they were that easy to turn against him, they didn’t deserve Chuuya anyway.

He stepped more quickly, determined to get home as soon as possible.

He had to think.

—————

Chuuya still lived at the same address.

Dazai wasn't surprised.

What did, however, surprise him, was the easy way the key turned in the lock.

Huh...Chibi hadn’t changed his locks in the four years Dazai had been gone. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

Putting said thought to the back of his mind for later consideration, he opened the door on silent hinges and carefully stepped inside.

Chuuya liked his comforts; that included a thick, soft rug which made it incredibly easy to walk silently through the quiet flat. It was about half an hour from sunset and the light filtering through the windows was fiery, tinting everything in shades of gold, copper and red.

As he looked around, he noted that, alongside the locks, very little had changed. Perhaps there was a new piece of art and he was quite sure that the loveseat he remembered had been replaced by a large armchair but, other than that, it was like stepping back in time.

This seemed to happen a lot where Chuuya was concerned.

Dazai had to be careful. He couldn’t let himself slip into old habits. He was here to reach out, to prove that he had changed over the last four years.

…..by sneaking into his flat with the key he’d swiped when they were 16.

Baby steps.

Silently acknowledging that, perhaps, this hadn’t been the best plan but committed to following it through nonetheless, Dazai stepped further into the flat. It was as he was passing a small table that he noticed it; the hat.

Chuuya never went anywhere without that stupid hat so, therefore, the only conclusion Dazai could draw was taht Chuuya was somewhere in his flat.

...and he hadn’t noticed Dazai yet.

Pausing all movement, Dazai closed his eyes and focused all his attention on his surroundings, listening for the slightly rustle of cloth, the faintest screen from deeper into the fat.

Nothing.

Turning his head to better peer into the living room, Dazai confirmed that, yes, Chuuya wasn’t in there, waiting to ambush him. Nor, it appeared, was he in the kitchen.

Logically, that left only one place.

The bedroom door was shut and, aa he approached, Dazai felt a shiver of anticipation go through him. He hadn’t managed to sneak up on Chuuya in quite a while and this was definitely going to result in an interesting reaction.

He may be here to make amends with the Chibi but that didn’t mean he was above drawing out some fun reactions. Just because hw wanted Chuuya to look at him...more positively...didn’t mean he was going to give up antagonisinghim. Where would the fun be in that?

Moving slowly, Dazai reached out and opened the door. It was as quiet as the rest of the flat, swinging on silent hinges as Dazai slowly and carefully opened it enough to slip through and nothing more.

Chuuya was lying in bed, head turned away from the door and towards the massive window on the oppositee wall. Yokohama was lit by crimson light which spilled over Chuuya, blending perfectly with his hair which was fanned out behind him on his pillow.

Dazai felt his breath catch slightly but resolutely ignored it.

Still..

Dazai removed his phone from his pocket and took a picture, thankful he had the camera sound turned off. Chuuya was asleep and he doubted he’d get this chance again any time soon.

Putting his phone away as he stepped further into the room, Dazai was careful to keep his steps light. Chuuya’s bedroom had a wooden floor, a deep cherry wood which matched the furnishings. Said furnishings included the massive four-poster bed which was set against the wall between the walls containing the door and window respectively. The red curtains (and why was he not surprised?) were pulled back, tied neatly to the bed posts with thin braided chords.

The blankets, of course, matched the curtains perfectly and Dazai wondered when exactly Chuuya had time ti pick out such things and how his little ex-partner managed to reach the top of the four-poster bed. Did he have a footstool hiding somewhere or did he just use his gravity manipulation?

This rather random (and entirely amusing) train of thought was cut off when Dazai managed to get a good look at Chuuya’s face.

What he had initially taken for redness from the setting sun was, in fact, revealed to be a deep flush accross his normally pale skin. Now that he was closer, he could hear that, although Chuuya was indeed asleep, his breathing was shallower than would be expected and there was a light sheen of sweat accross his forehead.

He also noted a few dark purple bruises tracing their way accross Chuuya’s skin, disappearing below the blanket. It had been a few days since the incident with Lovecraft and his partner (honestly he couldn’t even remember his name; he was that unimportant) and yet the bruises looked like they had only appeared yesterday.

Dazai felt his stomach drop and a pang in his chest.

Chuuya, apparently, hadn’t been fine.

This...changed things.

—————

Chuuya cracked his eyes open, knowing that something was wrong but not having the energy to deal with it. He felt like his limbs were made of lead and, when he tried to sit up, his head started spinning badly enough that he immediately paused all movement.

Fuck he hated this.

It had been four years since he’d used Corruption and, somehow, in those four years, he’d managed to forget exactly how painful the aftermath was. It could, however, just be that it was worse this time. His body wasn’t used to it anymore.

And, he thought bitterly, it wasn’t as if spending the night in a fucking field out in the open had helped.

Damn Dazai…

“Don’t worry...I got you.”

Yeah fucking right. That was why, at dawn, he’d had to drag himself to Mori’s office, give a delayed report and then drag himself home only to collapse in bed without even being able to change. He’d woken up hours later with the beginnings of a fever and, despite how much it ached and how much he didn’t want to, he’d made himself change out of his filthy clothes, strip the bed and put on clean sheets since he’d slept in his bed without changing out of said filthy clothes, and preprared for about a week of hell.

He’d been conscious for perhaps four to five hours of the last few days, his body demanding that he sleep while it healed from the use of Corruption and fought the fever. Admittedly he wouldn’t have been able to do much even if he had been awake considering how difficult and painful it was to move at this point. His body felt like one giant bruise and, upon waking for the second time covered in sweat and dizzy as fuck, he vowed that he was going to hunt Dazai down when he was able and kick the shit out of the lying bastard. Killing him would be too easy (and likely what the bastard wanted) so Chuuya wouldn’t do that. No, he’d just make him wish he was dead.

A noise from just beyond the door had him turning his head. He almost immediately regretted it, his temples throbbing, but he forced himself to ignore it, fingers twitching under the blanket. What had caused that sound? Was someone in his flat? Who could it be?

As he was preparing to do...soemthing (his brain was far too foggy to come up with anything coherent) the door opened further (he was sure he’d closed it before crawling into bed) and, who should walk in, but the person he was currently planning the maiming of.

“Dazai...”

The name was hissed between clenched teeth, coming out as little more than a croak. His eyes narrowed as he stared at the bandaged bastard in his bedroom doorway.

Dazai had paused, like he was surprise Chuuya was awake, and Chuuya felt his temper flare.

How dare he. How fucking dare that asshole break into his flat after what he’d done. How fuckign dare he!

“Nice to see Chuuya’s awake,” Dazai commented, his tone far quieter than his normal boisterous delivery but Chuuya couldnt’ focus on taht right now, too overcome with the absolute rage he felt at seeing Dazai so soon after being abandoned in a fucking field at midnight after using Corruption.

“I’m gonna make you...wish...you were dead,” he got out through gritted teeth.

“I know,” Dazai replied, not seeming phased by the threat of physical violence and, right now, Chuuya wasn’t all taht surprised. He doubted he could threaten a kitten in his current state, let alone a slippery bastard like Dazai.

“The fuck do you want,?” He growled, deciding he didn’t have time to deal with Dazai’s bullshit.

“Chibi needs help,” was the immediate reply and Chuuya felt himself tense.

Help?

Dazai thought he needed help?

The bastard thought he needed help after what he did?

“Get. Out.”

“Not until Chibi’s feeling well enough to toss me out himself,” Dazai returned immediately. Chuuya snarled.

What an utter bastard. What was he getting out of this? Was he just here to make fun of the fact that, currently, Chuuya couldn’t throw a pillow, let alone Dazai’s lanky ass? Yeah, that must be it. He was here to be a bastard.

What else was new?

“Her to gloat then? Should’ve known.”

Dazai blinks, affecting a surprised expression which Chuuya wasn’t buying for a moment.

“Gloat?”

“Yes, gloat,” Chuuya repeats, feeling some part of him settle now that he’d figured out exactly why Dazai was here. The bastard would taunt him for a while, maybe make a half-hearted (and entirely unhelpful) effort to aid him and then fuck off back to his detective agency until the next time he needed Chuuya to hit something he couldn’t talk his way around.

Dazai, it seemed, wanted to draw this out though since, unlike what Chuuya was expecting, he didn’t immediately drop the act nd start taunting him. Instead, Dazai made a “wait here” gesture (which was rather ridiculous since he could barely make himself roll over, let alone get out of bed right now) and left the room.

What was he doing? Was he trying to put him on edge by making noise where Chuuya couldn't see or reach? Was he breaking his shit so Chuuya would have to clean up the mes when he could drag himself out of bed? No, that would be too simple and blunt for Dazai. He had to be up to soemthing else.

Sounds reached his ears but he couldn't figure out what they were. All he could do was lie there and wait for Dazai to return.

He must’ve dozed off again because the next thing he knew, he was opening his eyes and turning towards a weight he felt on the bed. Dazai had returned and sat himself on the edge of the bed, perching like a bird that knew it would have to take flight rather quickly at any moment.

“What do you want now?” He grumbled, too tired to put up too much of a fight. His anger had, apparently, given way to tiredness while he’d been dozing and Chuuya couldn’t find the strength to muster it again. What was even the point? Perhaps this was a good thing. If Dazai couldn't get any interesting reactions from him, he might go away faster. Dazai was, after all, like a spoilt kid with a shiny toy. That toy was, in this case, Chuuya (loathe as he was to compare himself to such a thing). If Chuuya didn’t react, didn’t give Dazai anything to work with, he’d move on to something else more shiny, more fun to poke at with a stick to watch its reaction.

Dazai didn’t reply to him, instead turning and picking something up from the bedside table he sat beside. He heard the sound of water slouching about before something cool and damp was pressed against his forehead.

Wha…?

Dazai, not noticing his confusion (or more likely pretending not to notice - that bastard noticed everything) turned away from him. Chuuya wanted to reach up and throw the cloth at Dazai’s stupid face, put enough weight behind it to cave in the bastard’s fucking skull ike he deserved but, again, he couldn’t make himself move.

When Dazai turned back to him, he was holding a bowl in one hand and...a spoon in the other.

“No,”

“Chibi needs to eat.”

“I said no!” The anger was back, blazing in his chest. So this was his plan then? Not just gloat but try and humiliate him too? Probably taunt him while he fed him like a fucking child. Fuck that. He wasn’t going to accept it. Whatever it was was likely poisoned anyway (be it deliberately or because of the shitty bastard’s inability to cook anything without somehow making it toxic).

“Chuuya needs to eat,” Dazai repeated, as if he thought using Chuuya’s actual name instead of that stupid fucking taunt would make a difference.

Chuuya closed his eyes and turned his face away. If Dazai wanted him to eat whatever it was, he’d have to force it down his throat. He heard a sigh and felt himself bristle more. What did that bastard have to sigh about? He wasn’t the one stuck in bed with a fever and covered in bruises because his fucking partner had abandoned him after a mission.

His train of thought was rudely interrupted when he felt...something, sliding through his hair.

What the…?

It was soothing, rhythmic and...very pleasant. Unbidden, he felt his body relax, muscles that had been tensed to do...soemthing...uncoiling like an unwound spring.

It was as he felt himself lean into it that he realised what it was and tensed all over again.

Dazai was petting him, running his fingers through Chuuya’s (undoubtedly sweaty) hair, fingers playing with the strands before returning to massage his scalp. He really was out of it if he hadn’t been able to recognize what Dazai was doing.

How pathetic.

“Chibi’s always been the most stubborn when he’s sick,” Dazai murmured and Chuuya held in a snort.

“Who was the one who acted like he was dying from a cold?”

“It could’ve turned into pneumonia,” Dazai defended, tone indignant.

“You are such a fucking drama queen,” Chuuya muttered, eyes slipping closed again as he let himself enjoy the physical contact. He knew this was a trick of some sort (it was Dazai - there was always a trick) but, with how little energy he had right now, he was willing to enjoy it before the bastard pulled something else.

Hadn’t he been angry not a minute ago? He tried to concentrate on the feeling but couldn’t. He was still angry, still furious with the other male but he just didn’t have the energy to express it properly. His mind was also vaguely foggy (probably from the fever) so that likely wasn’t helping.

Fuck this situation and fuck Dazai Osamu. When this was over, he was going to pay the bastard back for this, one way or another.

“Hmmm…” Dazai made a non-comical noise and Chuuya’s thoughts were forcibly dragged back to the present moment, to the feeling of Dazai’s fingers tangling themselves in his hair and rubbing gentle circles against his scalp.

“Chuuya never eats after Corruption. I suppose that hasn’t changed.”

The comment caught Chuuya off guard. Weren’t they just talking about how much of a pain Dazai was when he’s ill?

“...Your point?”

“Chuuya should eat more.”

Yes, Chuuya should drag himself, in his current state, to the kitchen and make himself something to eat. That would go absolutely wonderfully he was sure. His expression clearly must have conveyed his thoughts because Dazai once again held up the bowl.

“No.”

“What if I eat some?”

“Your a suicidal maniac. If you eat it, it’s definitely poison.”

“Chuuuya,” Dazai whined and Chuuya fought back a small smirk at the tone. It felt good to annoy Dazai, even just a little. For all he knew the bastard could just be putting it on but he’d take what he could get in this situation.

“And what if I didn’t make it?”

“Then where did you get it?” Had Dazai raided his cupboards to find something? He couldn’t remember what was in there. Did he have a few tins of soup stored somewhere? It was possible.

Dazai, for once, kept his mouth shut and, instead, tilted the bowl so that Chuuya could get a good look at the contents and, at the same time, ensuring that he had the opportunity to smell whatever it was.

As he breathed in, the familiarity of the bowl’s contents hit his senses and his eyes widened minutely.

How the…?

“This is still you favourite, right?” Dazai asked, tilting the bowl further towards him.

“...how the hell do you remember that after four years?”

“You ordered me to get it for you often enough. It’s hard to forget.”

Hesitantly, Chuuya leaned forward and took another, deeper sniff of the revealed bouillabaisse. He’d discovered a small cafe not long after moving into this flat, only a few streets away, and had fallen utterly in love with their food. It hadn’t taken him long to get into the habit of eating there once a week or, on the odd occasion where he didn’t feel like being out in public, having the staff prepare him a meal which he would then eat in the privacy of his own flat.

The bouillabaisse in the bowl had been one of the first things on the menu he’d tried. There was just something about it that Chuuya couldn’t quite put his finger on. All he knew was that it had become a routine rather early in their relationship that, after using Corruption and returning home (normally dragged there by Dazai or one of his minders), he’d have someone fetch him a bowl of bouillabaisse from that cafe, eat it and then pass out for a few days.

Apparently, Dazai had remembered…

It didn’t mean anything. Just because the bastard remembered this was his favourite thing to eat when he was ill or post-Corruption, didn’t mean Chuuya was going to eat it.

“Come on,” Dazai coaxed. “How will you feel better and throw me out if you don’t eat anything?”

“...Are you seriously trying to use logic? You, of all people?”

“Chuuya says that like I’m not logical.”

“Are you implying you are?”

“When am I ever not logical?”

“March 5th, five years ago.”

Was it his imagination or were Dazai’s cheeks turning a little red? Nah, it was probably the light coming in through his windows.

“Chuuya’s being mean when I came here to help him feel better,” Dazai pouted and Chuuya snorted slightly.

“Since when do you help anyone but yourself?”

The mirth fled Dazai’s face, leaving it blank. It was only in the absence of emotion that Chuuya realised just how much of it Dazai had been exuding. The gaze looking down at him felt...empty and, despite how warm he felt, he had to fight back a shiver.

This was the Dazai he remembered; the one that could go from playfully vicious to cold, ruthless and unnerving in less time than it took you to blink. And there Chuuya was, practically helpless lying in bed with those deadened, blank eyes staring down at him.

“Four years ago.”

Chuuya blinked, confused.

What?

“Well...that’s perhaps a bit generous. Maybe about a year and a half ago.”

“Had Dazai...answered his question?

“What the fuck?”

It was only when those dead eyes flickered that he realised that he must’ve asked the question aloud.

“You see,” Dazai continued. “I didn’t join the Agency right away. I had to lay low for a few years, keep my head down, show I could stay out of trouble before they would...deal...with my record.”

“So what changed?”

If Dazai was in the mood to answer questions (even if Chuuya was more than half convinced that his ex=partner was just spouting bullshit to mess with him), Chuuya was going to get as much out of him as possible.

“Something.”

“Feel like giving specifics?”

“You’ll be the first to know when I figure it out.”

“Yeah right.”

That gaze was still unnerving but he forced himself to ignore it. He’d worked with Dazai for three years and, even if it had been four since they’d last done so, he still remembered this. Act normal. Depending on his mood, he’ll pull himself out of soon enough. (Yet another reason Chuuya was sure that, had Dazai not been in the Port Mafia, he would have been ordered by someone to see a goddamn therapist a long time ago).

“I only really noticed after I met Atsushi.”

“The tiger brat?”

“The very same.” There was a smile creeping back into the corners of Dazai’s mouth, his eyes gaining warmth that had been absent and Chuuya felt a surge of...something...in his chest. So those Agency brats could get Dazai to show emotion (genuine from what he could tell) after about a year while Chuuya had known Dazai for three, nearly four, and hadn’t managed to elicit anything other than taunting, annoyance and the urge to set a bomb under his car?

Fan-fucking-tactic.

“Then why aren’t you bothering him?” He succeeded in keeping the bitterness from his voice, barely, and forced himself to relax again now that those dead eyes were no longer directed at him. Fuck; he hated that look.

“Atsushi’s not the one lying in a bed with a fever.”

“Funny thing, neither would I if you hadn’t left me in a fucking field.”

“I know. That’s why I’m here.”

They were going in circles, their conversation going nowhere. Or, at least, that’s how it felt to Chuuya. It felt like he’d take a few steps forward but then Dazai would say something and there’d they’d be, right back to where they started; the fact that Dazai had broken into Chuuya’s flat while he was unconscious after leaving him, exhausted and alone.

“Give me one good reason why I should trust you.”

“...and if I can’t think of one?”

“Then congratulations; that’s the first honest thing you’ve said to me in the last seven years.”

“Will Chuuya eat now?”

“You’re not going to go away until I do, are you?”

“Like I said; I’m not leaving til Chibi’s well enough to throw me out himself.”

“Fucking...fine.”

Dazai blinked down at him, surprise flashing accross his features before it was once again masked behind that pleasant, charming smile he so often liked to wear.

“If it’ll make you leave sooner, fine. I’m too sick to deal with your bullshit. If it’s poisoned, I’ll haunt you for the rest of your shitty life.”

“Whatever Chibi says.”

“Shut up and help me sit up. I’m not lying here while you spoon feed me like an infant.”

“But Chibi’s as small as-“

“Finish that sentence and I will maim you”

Dazai once again set the bowl to the side and, far more carefully than Chuuya would expect from the bandaged bastard, helped me into a semi-sitting position, back pressed against the mountain of pillows Chuuya insisted on keeping on his bed. Chuuya was sure to keep his movements slow so as not to aggravate his injuries or spark another bout of dizziness.

“Why does Chuuya have so many pillows?”

“Why are you so interested?”

“No reason, just curious.”

“I’ll believe your ‘just curious’ line when you go a week without getting slapped.”

“It’s day six, I’m sure I can manage.”

“Sure you can.”

“Want to bet on it?”

“Right now, fuck no.”

“Chuuya’s no fun when he’s ill.”

Chuuya didn’t dignify that with a response, merely gesturing for Dazai to hand him the bowl. Dazai seemed hesitant but Chuuya’s glare intensified and he gave a put upon sigh, as if he was the one being inconvenienced in this situation, before handing the bowl over.

Chuuya propped it in his lap carefully, making sure there was no chance of him accidentally tipping it over, before taking his first spoonful of the bouillabaisse. He closed his eyes as the taste hit his tongue. It had been a while since he’d managed to visit the cafe and this was, admittedly, just what he needed.

Movement drew his attention and, as he turned his head, he noticed Dazai hopping off the bed and heading towards the door. Suspicious of what he was doing but not being able to follow, Chuuya returned his attention to the bowl in his lap and continued to eat.

It was as he was finishing (he stil had about a third of the bowl left but he couldn’t make himself eat any more) that Dazai returned, two slightly steaming mugs in his hands. Chuuya couldn’t stop himself raising an eyebrow when he realised exactly what was inside them.

“Really?”

“Chibi kept it in the same place.”

“The minute you go, I’m changing the locks.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t anyway.”

“I forgot you had a key. Trust me, I will.”

Dazai made no comment, simply taking the bowl away and replacing it with the steaming mug of chamomile and spiced apple tea he’d procured from Chuuya’s kitchen.

The scent, like that of the bouillabaisse, was familiar, calming and made Chuuya relax further into the pillows. Breathing in the fragrant steam, he could almost pretend that the aches and pains were non-existent, that he wasn’t still overly-warm and uncomfortable from fever and that Dazai, bandaged bastard that he was, actually gave a damn rather than this pretence he was putting up for some unknown reason.

“This doesn’t change anything,” he murmured, tone soft as he took his first sip. The warmth traveled down his throat and settled in his stomach, pleasant rather than the uncomfortable warmth he felt everywhere else.

“...I know.”

“Then why bother?”

“Because…” Dazai paused but Chuuya didn’t look at him, didn’t want to see what emotions were passing over his face. He couldn’t trust that anything he saw was real. “Because I’ve changed and, the other night, I acted like I would have four years ago and...I didn’t like it.”

There it was. This wasn't about Chuuya at all. It was about Dazai feeling guilty that he’d not stuck to whatever precious morals he’d managed to scrape together over the past few years.

“And,” Dazai continued, capturing Chuuya’s attention before his thoughts could primal any further downwards. “I realised I should’ve been a better partner and taken you to the extraction point.”

As if he was going to believe that horseshit.

“So you think taking care of me now makes up for it?”

“No,” Dazai admitted and Chuuya was tempted to turn, to see what affected emotion was on that face but he resisted, keeping his eyes closed and breathing in the sweet scent of his tea. “But I’m hoping Chuuya wil find it in him to give me a chance to do better next time.”

“And what if, next time, you just say fuck it and don’t stop me?”

Because, as much as he’d cursed Dazai after waking up and dragging himself to Mori’s office, as much as he’d ranted and raved about how he should have known better than to trust the bastard to do what he’d asked...he’d still held out some shred of hope that Dazai would do what he’d said. When they were partners, Dazai had occasionally taken off after Chuuya had used Corruption but, in those circumstances, there were almost always other members of the Port Mafia around (typically Hirotsu) who would make sure he got back safe. This time, it had just been them so his only option afterwards had been Dazai.

And Dazai had abandoned him there.

It wasn’t a big step from ‘not taking me somewhere safe after using Corruption’ to ‘not stopping me when I use Corruption’.

“That won’t happen.”

And Chuuya had to look at him, had to see his expression because what the hell?

Dazai’s tone nad been sharp, almost commanding. As he met that amber, steely gaze, Chuuya felt something in him react (though what it was, he couldn’t be sure). Dazai’s eyes were determined, focused on Chuuya like he was the only thing that mattered in that moment. He couldn’t remember a look like that ever being directed at him before.

“And why’s that?” The words left him almost involuntarily, tone not quite biting as he locked gazes with Dazai, willing himself to see through whatever act teh bastard might put up, ready to focus on any microexpression that might slip through the cracks.

“Chibi’s not allowed to die.”

“What’s it to you if I die or not? Newsflash; you’re the one that left, not me.”

“Chibi’s not allowed to die,” Dazai repeated, as if by saying it again he could make Chuuya accept it. Not happening - he was sick, not oblivious.

“Why do you suddenly care?”

“Chibi wouldn’t believe me if I told him.”

“Try me.”

“Chibi’s pretty when he’s angry.”

That statement caused Chuuya to nearly spill hot tea over himself as he stared, incredulous at Dazai who was now deliberately not looking at him.

What. The. Fuck.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

“I told you.”

How the hell was he meant to react to that?

“I have no idea how to respond to that statement and, right now, part of me is sure you’re just a hallucination brought on by fever.”

Dazai let out a small chuckle at that statement, turning to look at Chuuya again. That warmth that had been in his eyes when he’d talked about Atsushi was...directed at him. When had this happened? How was he supposed to react to this? Was this really Dazai Osamu? It didn’t seem likely but…

...but an imposter wouldn’t have known about his favourite food when he was ill, wouldn’t have reacted when he brought up that particular event in March five years ago, wouldn’t have teased him quite so much if they were trying to get into his good graces. There was too much that was so purely Dazai that the only conclusion he could come to was that he was, in fact, speaking with the real him.

And that thought was mildly terrifying because…

Dazai Osamu told him, to his face, that he was pretty.

“You know, you don’t have to say anything,’ Dazai commented, that stupid, warm expression still in his eyes and the corners of his mout turned up in a small smile that looked far more genuine than anything Chuuya could remember seeing during their three years together. “”But you asked so…” He shrugged, as if he didn’t really care whether Chuuya responded or not.

“You expect me not to say something after that?”

Dazai shruged again, as if he couldn’t care less what Chuuya had to say.

“So, what does Chibi have to say?”

...that was a good question and, unfortunately, it wasn’t one he had an answer to. This...was never something he thought he’d ever have to deal with. Dazai had never, to Chuuya’s knowledge, admitted an attraction to another male. And for said male to be Chuuya of all people…

“When, exactly, did you…?” How did he even finish the question?

“Yesterday,” Dazai admitted.

“...and how did you come to this realisation?”

Keep talking, keep asking questions. Maybe it would start to make sense if he just kept asking questions.

This time, Dazai didn’t answer and Chuuya felt a surge of annoyance. Dazai had been surprisingly forthright so far but he’d known that, at some point, he’d clam up and stop answering.

“I...think I’d prefer to tell you that some other time.”

Wait, what? Dazai wasn’t refusing to answer the question, just refusing to answer it now?

“So…” Chuuya began, eyes narrowed as he put the pieces together. “You break into my flat, bring me food, say you’re going to look after me until I feel well enough to kick your bandaged ass out and now you’re saying you think I’m pretty (which you only realised yesterday!) but you’re not giving me a reason why you suddenly think this even though I know you’ve only ever been attracted to women?”

Dazai shrugged again, the motion easy and careless. Chuuya let himself flop back against his pillow mountain, lifting an arm to cover his face so he wouldn’t have to look at the bandaged bastard, not caring at the uncomfortable sensations from the bruises as he did so.

“You’re really something, you know that?”

“Is that a good thing?”

Chuuya didn’t dignify that with a response, just kept his arm over his eyes and tried to proces the last few minutes of their conversation.

“This still doesn’t change anything,.”

“I know.”

“Then what do you want?”

“For you to give me another chance.”

“And if I don’t?”

Dazai didn’t reply for a while and Chuuya was, once again, tempted to look at him but resolutely did not. He did lower his arm but kept his eyes closed. He lifted the mug of cooling tea to his lips again and finished it off in a few small sips. Wordlessly, Dazai took it from his hand and he heard it being set down on the nightstand.

“Then you don’t.”

“Just like that?‘

“Just like that.”

“You’re not going to try some stupid shit to win me over?”

“Would it work?”

That...was a fair point. Chuuya knew Dazai’s tricks, had seen them used often enough that he could practically recite them word for word, rehearsed gesture for rehearsed gestures. If Dazai tried any of his normal shit with Chuuya, he’d know and kick the bastard’s ass for it. The fact that Dazai had acknowledged that, had admitted that his normal methods wouldn’t work on him...

“And besides,’ Dazai continued. “Why would I trick you into something like this/‘

“Because it would amuse you. You’d find this sort of shit funny: don’t even bother denying it.”

“Maybe,” Dazai admitted. “But I’ve decided that if anything happens, I don’t want it to be because I tricked you into it.”

Chuuya was once again having doubts that this was, in fact, the real Dazai Osamu.

“Just ...think it over. I’m not expecting an answer any time soon.”

‘And if you never get one?”

“Then I’ll just have to live in hope that I’ll get one one day, won’t I?”

With that, Dazai once again left the room, taking the dirty cups and bowl with him. Chuuya was left alone with his thoughts which were currently roiling, unable to concentrate on any one thing for longer than a. Few seconds before soemthing else captured his attention.

He did’t know how to feel, didn’t know how to react. This was no t something he had ever considered a possibility under any circumstance and, now that he was fed and relatively comfortable, he didn’t really want to think about it. As quickly as his mind was flitting from subject to subject, he could feel it also beginning to slow as his body decided that, having been awake for a decent amount of time, it was now time to return to unconsciousness so that his body could focus on healing itself.

Gingerly, he shuffled back under the covers so only his head was supported by the pillows and curled up on his side facing the door. He opened his eyes, watching for Dazai. His eyes were drooping however and, as he closed them, he was vaguely aware of the sensation of a hand running through his hair again as he drifted off to sleep.

———-

A few weeks later, head in Dazai’s lap and fingers once again stroking through his hair, Chuuya couldn’t help but think that, maybe, just maybe, it was worth giving Dazai that second chance.

#soukokuweek19 #Soukoku #Day 7 #free day #Nakahara Chuuya #Dazai Osamu #Dazai is an idiot #sfw #Chuuya needs a hug #bsd #bungou stray dogs #skk #dazai x chuuya #bungou stray dogs bsd #fanfiction #soukoku week #idiots in love

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lilflowerpot · 5 years

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You're posting loz e_e botw au keitor, keith as the awkward gremlin hero and lotor and the sciencing royal. Only applicable if Lotor didn't have such a tragic backstory. Or they could just play the game and lose quintents to it. Like someone finds a switch botw pack at an earth store and shenanigans happen?

Playing the game is good, but the AU is better, yesyesyes let me have this.

Lotor, who is being raised by his father to become the next Monarch of a warring state, trained in all forms of combat (at which he’s not bad) and strategy (at which he’s better), but whose first love is science. His mother was Sheikah, her work revolutionary, but upon her death her people broke a thousand years of tradition and refused to serve the royal family while Zarkon stood at its head, and so he ordered their collective execution. Nobody’s heard from them since, but Lotor has a sneaking suspicion that the numbers don’t add up, that the body count’s too small, that somewhere out there - hidden in the far reaches of Hyrule - the village of his maternal ancestors continues to thrive with both life and technology beyond even his father’s most feavoured imaginings.

Keith, who insists he comes from nowhere, no one, nothing: a feral little thing who’s as Hylian as Lotor is - which is to say not enough to appease the people around him, many of whom turn their noses up at the bronzed flesh stretched taught over sinew and muscle, or the way dark hair seems to smoulder like wildfire in the right light. He cloaks himself and hides his face, and this suits him just fine because the climate here is cooler than what he’s used to when the sun has carved its blistering heat into his shoulders like a brand. Keith belongs to the desert - always has, always will - but there’s a lot of pressure there to be something he’s not, and when he leaves he makes sure to wrap the bindings of his fists just a little tighter.

So Keith heads to the heart of Hyrule; for curiosity’s sake, or so he tells himself, because he’s heard great things about the capital and wants to see it for himself, but halfway there with the great spires of Hyrule Castle looming on the horizon, the eager tug in his gut alters course and Keith finds himself stumbling down grassy banks until he’s turned his back on his original destination altogether, and stands instead before a great stone wall, seemingly older than time itself.

Keith is many things, but a quitter isn’t one of them.

It’s a challenge, certainly, but no more so than scaling the sheer Highland cliffs north of home, and he’s done that so many times that Kolivan has run out of reprimands. Once he gets into the rhythm of it, the regular placement of carved stone one on top of the other becomes almost like second nature, even if the excessive rain they get in these parts has worn it down into something smooth as bone. He climbs and climbs and climbs - through the mists and fogs that seem almost as if they’re reaching to tear him from his precarious perch only to curl away at the last second - until finally he’s able to drag himself up onto the parapets, cresting them along with the sunrise, his whole body heaving with exhaustion.

Still… he made it.

Made it where is the next logical question, and not one Keith has an exact answer to, but this - this - is always the best part, and he scrambles to his feet, adrenaline replacing fatigue to flood his veins with a sparking excitement. It’s a plateau, by the looks of it, a great swathe of untamed greenery growing tall and tangled as far as the eye can see. Though he’d climbed up for a good quarter of an hour, the internal drop is scarcely the height of a man, and Keith leaps down into the into the underbrush with an almost primal urge to explore his new territory.

Meanwhile, Lotor is minding his own business in the ruins of Old Castle Town, having snuck away in the night through a tunnel he found months ago that coils through the bowels of the earth from North to South, a single thread of kinship between the new world and the old. He’s picking apart the carvings at Hylia’s base in the temple of his ancestors when he hears it, the howling rage of a bokoblin-hoard scorned, and draws his royal claymore only to find that their beady little eyes aren’t focused on him, but rather a young woman in the decrepit market square below, who twists around her assailants with grace and strikes them down without mercy.

Her hair shines white, her weapon glows blue, and with his heart in his throat Lotor realises she’s Sheikah.

He must move or make a noise or something, because she spins on her heel from where she’s stood in a cicle of bokoblin corpses, and launches her weapon in a swooping arc straight towards Lotor.

It’s hard to say what happens first, but three things do, and in very quick succession: one, the Sheikah woman realises her mistake, recognising Lotor as not a bokoblin but a person, and quite probably as one of her own ilk if the choice of her panicked warning cry being shouted out in the Sheikah tongue rather than common Hylian is deliberate. Two, Lotor draws up his claymore to deflect the projectile, royal insignia glinting in the golden light of morning, but even as he does so distantly recognises that whatever energy the head of the spear is composed of might well cleave right through his blade as if it were still molten. Three, a boy cloaked in red drops out of absolutely fucking nowhere, and intercepts the spear mid-flight, pinning it to the ground between the twin prongs of his of his scimitar’s forked tongue.

There’s a moment of true stillness, all three frozen as if carved from ice, and then the boy looks up with a curl to his lips that pierces Lotor’s heart more completely than the Sheikah girl’s spear could ever have hoped to do.

“Hi,” he breathes, all tousled hair and sun-kissed skin, “I’m Keith.”

#at first I was going to make the Alteans the Gerudo because then Lotor nicely fit the archetype of 'only male'#and therefore becomes the equivalent of Ganondorf with the triforce of power #BUT NO #I wanted to mix it up and rather than have: Lotor (Gan/Power) Keith (Link/Courage) Allura (Zelda/Wisdom)#which is the order one would immediately expect #having Lotor (Zelda/Wisdom) Keith (Gan/Power) and Allura (Link/Courage) creates a whole different dynamic #and one that I personally like much more #...so the Alteans are the Sheikah with their glowy blue tech and all the Galra are Hylian except for the BoM who are Gerudo #Lance is Zora - Pidge is Kokiri - Hunk is Goron - Shiro is Rito #god I'm actually in love with this #keitor #(though I kind of want to poly the hell out of this omfg they'd be such a trio)#sa screams back #other AUs #LoZ #ficlet

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thelastarchangelaskblog · 5 years

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Session 15

Last session we left off right after Zira realized her mother has been looking for her since she was kidnapped by the Horned Crown. This one picks up immediately afterwards!

The entire party was once more present for drama and shenanigans, although @rebaobsessions was sick so Rhodey was mostly communicating through typing today.

(Read more.)

There was some more fallout after the revelation of Zira’s ( @heliocentricgeometric) mother and what it meant for her. She was unsure if she wanted to let her mother know that she was alive and relatively all right.

Zira: I am not the best daughter or the best agent or the best anything.

But multiple people did tell her that her mother would want to know and she is good, so Zira eventually gave the go-ahead.

Zira is super hard on herself and blaming herself for having been kidnapped.

Clint: Don’t be hard on yourself. Would you go back and tell your six-year-old self that?

Helio: DID HE SAY THAT IN CHARACTER?

DM ( @the-grey-hunt): Yes, because I think it's funny.

We make the decision to check out the abandoned temple of Erathis, since we don’t feel comfortable leaving without investigating it. Before we do so, we go return to collect our weapons. Rhodey really wants his back.

Helio: Is he really Rhodey if he's not a walking armory?

Weapons collected and fully armed, we head to the temple with Clint and Natasha in stow for their supposed lock picking and trap detecting expertise. It’s broad daylight; there are crowds around.

Bob ( @thechaoticwave) rolls high on stealth but it’s the middle of the day and we’re attracting attention. Tony picks the lock on the door in the end with double proficiency because he has tool expertise. (You have no idea how many tool sets he has, guys.)

DM: Is this the same person who gave Tony his fine clothes? He went on a Weekend at Bernie's excursion and now he has 8 tool proficiencies?

In real life, we’re RPing hardcore and having debates and this all means that it’s taking us...

DM: It's been 20 minutes in real life since I told you you were standing in front of the unlocked door that leads to where you're going.

DM: You go inside. It is a room.

We’re all super suspicious and investigating for traps and perceiving danger. To be fair, Zira perceived something super suspicious and shady in a window with a high roll.

DM: 8 people have rolled perception checks. There are only 6 players.

I don’t know what Bob is supposed to be familiar with here but it’s apparently something in the temple.

thechaoticwave: How familiar would Bob be?

DM: None.

We very slowly creep through the temple. I mean, slowly in real life. It’s relatively fast in-game but in real life it’s taking a while. One of us takes the initiative to hurry us along.

Helio: We keep going. I'm sorry to anyone who wants to explore, but if we do, I think our DM will try to kill us!

Finally we end up in the last room of the temple. There’s an altar here, and as we enter the room JARVIS gives an alert. Torches magically light up and the room gets super cold.

We don’t realize what’s happening until we notice a ghost! It’s the tiefling priest who was executed for the kidnapping of the jarl’s daughter.

Veritas is rather adamant it wasn’t their fault and that things aren’t as they seem. They’re super pissed at us disturbing them, too, since they’re stuck in the temple. But they are familiar with the Horned Crown and what happened in the past.

Only...what do we want to do with the cult?

Zira: We're hunting them down.

Veritas: You can't.

Zira: I know. I can either die running away or I can die giving them the middle finger.

There are several charisma checks being made since Veritas is trying something funky. JARVIS is still freaking out about the ghost and does not like them.

Zira tries talking to Veritas some more, get them to tell us what’s going on and what happened back then. Veritas is saying they didn’t have a choice, that there was a woman involved who probably threatened them. But they’re not being specific and are complaining about injustice.

And then... Clint miserably fails his charisma save and is possessed! Zira gets shot by an arrow!

We roll initiative!

Helio: For one, I call the ghost a little bitch.

Bob is in dismay by what Clint did with an arrow.

Bob: Fuck damn it, Clint, this is not what I gave them to you for.

Zira doesn’t actually do anything with the arrow for the entirety of the fight. Also we kill the ghost double dead and we don’t know where ghosts go after dying a second time? Only Veritas is super dead now.

Lucky, Clint’s bird, tried to attack us on seeing us attack Clint. JARVIS did a good and pounced on him before he could attack Zira

In the end we’re all a bit upset and pissed at the ghost and everything in Neverwinter and agree to leave as quickly as possible.

We’re given some horses by Theodora Coulson and make it out quickly. While we’re camping, Zira has a conversation with her celestial guide on what she found out.

Zaphkiel is super wise and loving and sensitive to Zira’s doubts and fears.

Zaphkiel: Sometimes the hardest lessons are the ones we need the most.

Zira: Lady Laurelin is getting three kids for the price of one.

Zaphkiel: That sounds like a good deal to me.

Zira also finds out Zaphkiel is her father. Her biological father.

There’s a fight in Zira’s mindscape on finding this out, during which the third alter - 6 y/o Zee - comes to the front! She’s out and about freely!

Zee: IT'S ZEE TIME. It's my body now!

She’s a bit peeved at how tall the body is and keeps falling over. DJ (doxblogsstuff) finds her like this and realizes this isn’t Zira or 465 but rather someone else he hasn’t met before. Zee is super cheerful and happy to meet him.

Zee: The only reason I'm out right now is because they're fighting and being stupid. Last time I was out I was way shorter, and now I'm all the way up here.

Zee continues being precious and sweet and pronouncing words very deliberately.

DJ gets the rest of the party’s attention and Zee is introduced to Tony! And also Rhodey but reba was absent for this bit until she popped on again a little later.

Zee: That's my sci-en-tif-ic con-clu-sion.

Bob gets the chance to ask Zee what her favorite color is!

Zee: My favorite color is actually ocean color.

Zee sits by the fire and eventually notices JARVIS by Tony.

Zee: Why is your cat shiny and big?

Tony: That's just how he is.

Zee: Well, I'm big and shiny so I can't judge.

Zee mostly talks to DJ, at least until Zira manages to front again and is absolutely dismayed at what happened. But it’s all good!

We continue traveling to Ankh and are met by a thunderstorm. We make our way indoors to S.H.I.E.L.D., meeting first Agent 13 and then taking the boats through underground rivers before we finally, finally meet...Director Fury!

Tony: He doesn't look as furious as I thought he would.

Fury: Try me on a bad day.

We’re given some basic information on S.H.I.E.L.D. and asked about our own interest in the Horned Crown and why we want to ally.

Zira: We would get smushed like itty bitty bugs.

Zira: We want to...how do I say this? Fuck the Horned Crown up so bad that they never look at another kid again.

One by one, each of us gives our answer as to whether or not we want to join. Zira is a yes. DJ is a yes. Rhodey is a yes. Luna ( @imagine1117) has questions about what Fury knows about them but is a yes as well. Tony...does not say yes. He doesn’t say no, but he doesn’t say yes. He’s for allying, but not for joining S.H.I.E.L.D. as a lackey.

Bob declines to answer in favor of getting more information.

Fury: If I can be frank.

Bob: I thought you were Fury.

We end the session here with Fury sending us back above ground to talk about this as a group before giving a final answer.

So much happens next session. To the point our DM titled the session notes “Oh Boy Guys.”

#d&d campaign #imagine1117 #doxblogsstuff #the-grey-hunt #heliocentricgeometric #thechaoticwave #rebaobsessions

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dfcfanfics · 4 years

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Looking Back At 2019

Greetings! Your sixth-favorite old man who churns out Miraculous fanfics is back again, casting his eyes on the year-about-to-end and what came of it.

Throwing my ramblings behind a cut, for the benefit of those who are less than fanatical about them.

Okay! Still here? Great.

Stories that I wrote in 2019 included:

Longfics:

Let’s Take It From The Top: The conclusion to this one arrived in January. This was a long-running alternate universe story, the longest I had written at that time, rebooting the Miracuverse with two alterations:

1) Gabriel brought the Cat and Moth, not the Peacock and Moth home from Tibet.

2) Gabriel was willing to listen to Nooroo’s pleas to not use his powers selfishly.

That simple starting point cascaded into a very long chain of surprises and reinventions of familiar Miraculous events. Old faces with new Akuma identities, including a new one (Firefly) for Marinette before she ever becomes Ladybug! A Wish gone awry that eventually threatens all of France -- and perhaps more. Good Gabriel exploring the possibilities of Nooroo’s powers while attempting to save his son. The eventual emptying of the Miracle Box in an all-out showdown. Adrien in pink sweatpants. The answer to what happened to Atlantis. And my very first piece of fanart received ever, from the incomparable @yunyin.

It’s a lesser-loved piece of mine, but I think there’s some very solid writing in it, so if you skipped over it I’d encourage you to check it out.

Someone To Watch Over Me: My labor of love. This was inspired by absolutely perfect Ladrien concept art from @buggachat, which I will never hesitate to link. I fell in love with it, considered how I would work it into a longer Ladrien idea that was bubbling in my brain, and reached out to @buggachat with a first-chapter draft. She gave me the go-ahead to continue with it, and I hope she likes what I did to her poor characters along the way. ;)

Adrien’s attempted Akumatization and Ladybug’s last-second rescue leads to far more than either of them bargained for. Marinette reaches out to Adrien with comfort and affection in both of her identities -- and finds Adrien responding to both in kind, as much as he is capable of in his somewhat emotionally numb state. Slowly, she cracks his shell and a Ladrienette triangle forms. Though obviously Marinette would be fine with being Adrien’s girl in either identity... he doesn’t know that, and the slow burn to full-on romance is quite the ride.

All the while, Gabriel is watching his son closely, as his master plan requires someone with emotional ties to Emilie to be Akumatized and Adrien is his last-hope selection. He watches the evolving relationships, ready to pick off whichever one ends up broken-hearted when Adrien makes a choice and the triangle collapses... and is curious when that doesn’t seem to happen. A dinner party at Marinette’s proves memorable, followed by one at Adrien’s that proves... life-changing for all.

24 chapters, 230k words, my longest chapter ever, an Adrien moment that startled many readers in a very good way, and many other delights.

It Seemed Like A Good Idea At The Time...: This one wasn’t supposed to be a longfic. It started out in my mind as a wacky farce, responding to how Heart Hunter / Miracle Queen ended and examining where the Adrigaminette triangle might go. But the more I wrote at the beginning, the more I started digging into the emotional possibilities and felt like, well, this could actually go places.

This picks up with Marinette overwhelmed, hiding out in her room. The blossoming relationship between Kagami and Adrien, the new responsibilities of Guardianhood, knowing what happened to Master Fu, and many other questions are screaming inside her skull and she is out of answers. A ring of her doorbell shatters everything, though, as it reveals a sobbing Kagami; in this version, he tries being her boyfriend but abruptly cuts it off, admitting that he loves someone else. And we all know who that someone else is... and now Ladybug knows that, too.

And our heroine... snaps.

12 chapters so far, a deliberate experiment in writing shorter chapters (each one is under 5k) that has been... well, challenging to both myself and my readers. The response has been good and it is nearly complete; I’m thinking maybe four more chapters unless something changes.

Not-so-longfics:

Two Hearts That Wax And Wane: The first of a small handful of response fics to Puppeteer 2, specifically the car scene near the end, which I found to be one of the definitive moments of the entire Season 3. It certainly created veritable oceans of salt on Tumblr, so I decided to try to make something sweeter out of it.

Marinette has heard “the girl that I love” from Adrien’s lips... and it certainly wasn’t referring to her, at least as far as she knows. So... now what? Adrien isn’t sure what Marinette’s reaction meant, but he knows that he screwed up somehow, and that he needs to make things right with her or potentially lose a very precious friend. And so four chapters follow, one from each Love Square side’s perspective (Adrienette, Marichat, Ladrien, Ladynoir in order).

Angst segueing into fluff, as is my usual formula.

Full Stamen Ahead: A five-parter that makes an utter shambles of the French education system. (If you’re sensitive to Americanizations, this is not the fic for you, unless acres of fluff serve as a sufficient antidote.)

The school is promoting a Carnation Day, in which white, pink or red carnations are delivered to students for a nominal fee. Marinette decides that she’s finally going to confess her feelings, but an interruption by Chloe disrupts her red-carnation attempt. Seeing an opportunity, Chloe responds with a nasty plan of her own... and chaos soon reigns.

Five short chapters of high school antics, detective work and flower petals.

Just One More Minute...: Another fic inspired by Tumblr art, this one by Ladybeug. After five hours of fighting an Akuma, our heroes tumble together to a rooftop, unable to move another inch. They’re about to detransform, and they know it. But... surely... they could rest for just a moment before they act, couldn’t they?

One-shot.

Playing A Familiar Chord: Puppeteer 2 response fic number two, this one from a Lukanette perspective. After hearing what she did in the car, Marinette returned home feeling completely disheartened. Who might be out there that she could turn to, talk to, call on the phone and get a male perspective on about what just happened? Who could be her Big Brother today, even though they both know that he’d like to be more than that?

One-shot. Fluff, comfort, and a Luka who’s smitten but remains assertive as well.

After the Storm Breaks: Heart Hunter/Miracle Queen response fic, examining what might come next. A short time after the finales, Adrigami is fully enabled... as is Lukanette. A party that Adrien, Kagami and Marinette all attend becomes awkward, so Adrien calls Marinette to make sure that they’re still on good terms... and a lot of unexpected truth comes out.

One-shot. Fluff, comfort and friendship. Exploring a far stronger Adrienette forming even while they’re each dating other people.

A Little Promise I’d Made Myself: A super-fluffy one-shot. It’s a New Year’s Eve party at Rose’s house, and while Adrien is having a good time, he notices that Marinette is sitting off by herself. So he joins her, and as the countdown to midnight approaches, Marinette wonders if she has it in her to give him a real New Year’s kiss...

Crack and Silliness:

Assorted bits of insanity, response fics and stuff that popped into my head.

The Logical Conclusion: Ladybug examines why all the Akumas center around one particular classroom... and presents Chat Noir with her theory as to whom Hawkmoth must be.

Reservoir Kwamis: Quentin Tarantino’s film Reservoir Dogs from a Miracuverse perspective. Maybe three people will enjoy this.

Getting Things Backwards: Backwarder response crackfic. Adrien opens Marinette’s “love letter”... which is actually Fu’s constipation medicine prescription... and interprets it in a very different way.

First Times Are Always Awkward: On Ladybug and Chat Noir’s first outing against Stoneheart, Tikki is not fully aware of modern technology... like cell phone cameras. So that “Kwamis cannot be photographed or recorded” extends to their magic as well -- like certain costumes. Alya ends up with quite an eyeful when she watches the footage she captured...

Communication Breakdown: In an emergency, Plagg needs someone else to accept his power, don the ring and be a hero. He’s in a room with someone who is able and willing. But when it comes to saying “Claws out” aloud, there’s one little problem...

Busted, Said The Kwami: Kwami Buster response crackfic. Adrien finds himself dreaming of a midnight visit by Ladybug, who becomes Multimouse, who acts... unusually. This is not Plagg’s first rodeo with size-changing heroine fantasies, though.

Nooroo Uses A Swear Word: He sure does.

Options Include...: A response to an Instagram post by Adrien. Marinette sees Adrien admiring Nino and Alya’s relationship, and pining for one of his own, and reacts...

Leave Some Stones Unturned: Wayzz and Marinette investigate Master Fu’s studio, as Wayzz is aware of many secrets hidden away there in Fu’s absence. They find a pair of Kwamis who are not from the Chinese set, and whose concepts and personalities startle Marinette greatly... (Little Feat fans will appreciate this one.)

If you’ve reached this note, I thank you regardless of whether you’ve actually read my stuff or not. :)

I thought Season 3 had a lot of interesting components and a lot of very flawed execution, both in where it chose to take the characters and the usual nightmares involving episode ordering and character consistency. I sincerely hope that the hiatus before S4 will allow Team Astruc to present a more coherent and consistent approach in 2020.

Tumblr salt of You’re Not Writing The Story How I Want You To! and My Ship Must Sail NOW! will continue, obviously. That’s life. But Tumblr salt picking apart writing choices and characterization in what they actually put out there... that I can get behind. The Marinette Defense Squad remains vigilant. My hat is tipped to the many Tumblr folk who approach these episodes with a critical but supportive eye; recognizing what’s good, pointing out what’s not and wanting what emerges to be great.

Best wishes to all in the new year, particularly @brittsarts, my tireless artist friend still plugging away at the comic-ization of Tyger, Tyger, Burning Bright and doing fantastic work at that as time and energy allow.

#miraculous #miraculous ladybug #fanfic #rambling #old man reviews where all his free time went

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missymarysthings · 6 years

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Reaching a Limit

Lorena Casey Stellato. Head of the Stellato Clan’s business matters, and slatted to be main adviser to the next head of the family when the time comes. Also known within the clan as Medusa Stellato.

Current status?

Waking down the aisle and completely fed up with her current life.

She hates the dress, hates the venue, and hates the man waiting for her at the end of the aisle. None of it was chosen by her. Her dress? Her mother’s doing. The venue? Chosen by the groom’s family. The groom himself? Chosen by her father and is what is hated the most.

Speaking of her father, if that man could even be truly considered a father in anything but a biological sense, she could feel a slight coldness emanating from him as he walked her down the aisle. It was a clear ‘Don’t you dare ruin this!’ sign from him that was about to be completely discarded.

While everyone else had been busy planning this blasted wedding and ‘partial merger’ of clans for the past two years, she was planning something of her own. They did not ask for her input on anything. She had no choice in any matter of this forced marriage. At first she tried to voice her opinions and objections. Try to get them to see this was not as good as they thought it was going to be.

However, they refused to listen.

Not even the fiance.

But then, Medusa supposed it was no real surprise. That man her father chose for her did not really respect her. Belittled her and her accomplishments. Seemed to just barely believe that she was a very intelligent woman. She knew he wasn’t really marrying her. He was marrying the family. She was just the way to bring their families together, for him to be in the favor of her father.

Fine. She was accustomed to only being seen as a tool or means to something else as it was. Her father, Vincent, never truly saw her as a daughter anyway. Had she not proved that she had an sharp mind and intelligence, or a knack for doing business related things...

She knows she wouldn’t be here right now. He would have tried to have a son to replace her and she would have been tossed out, or sold off somewhere, or even killed. And her mother would have let him.

But Medusa was finally tired of all of it. This...farce of a wedding and the engagement leading up to it was the last straw.

They didn’t want her to be part of the planning for it? Fine. She could just continue to handle business matters...and plan her escape. Or death. Even that was more preferable. Her health wasn’t the greatest lately anyway. Still, every moment she was on her own that wasn’t being taken up by her duties...she was doing something to get away from it all

Finding someone to get the ring off of her right pinky and make an exact duplicate of it. Finding someone else to enchant it to mimic the it’s effects but allow herself to be able to remove it. That had been first and foremost. And that alone almost...ended everything. Having her powers finally released after being sealed away by her father and that blasted ring for so long, it was overwhelming. She barely recalls what had happened throughout that day except at the ed when she had put the fake ring on and later went home and explained away her exhaustion by saying she had done a lot of work. And had several files and records she could use to back up her claim she she had done a lot of work related things that day as well.

After that it was trying to practice in secret when she could to learn her powers and control them. Learning the layout of the surrounding lands around her home and around the venue where the ceremony was going to take place. Taking notes of paths she could run or places she could hide. Finding caves she could possibly reshape even slightly to help her. Practicing making illusions that matched these areas well enough to be convincing.

And still working hard enough and doing other things so no one would suspected that she was plotting something. Covering her tracks and planning everything well enough to reduce being caught in the act.

She had to follow through with everything until the last possible moment. Or else it wouldn’t work. But it would be worth it. Worth it to finally escape being manipulated, controlled, underappreciated, and miserable. She would no longer have to be wary of her memories being tampered with, or her father’s punishments and ‘motivational’ tactics.

One way or another, she would be free.

“Lorena...this is the part where you say I do. This what the rehearsals were for. Are you even paying attention?” the groom’s slightly harsh whispers brought her back to the moment. Everything else had been on auto-pilot after her father had brought her to the alter. Now was the true moment. “You look a bit pale...did those incompetent helpers tie your corset too tight? Is that why you can focus right now. Tsk. I’ll deal with them later,” he continued. She didn’t answer. “Afraid to admit it? Or you don’t want them getting in trouble? You women...”

“You are an inconsiderate bastard, and I never wanted this marriage in the first place,” Medusa said, and loud enough for everyone attending to hear. She took off the engagement ring and threw it soundly on the ground between them. “I do not and will not take you as my husband! Ever. There is no love between us. You do not even respect me. It will not work and all it is-at it’s heart-is a scam both you and my father are trying to play against each other. And I will no longer play any part of it!” she declared and, lifting up part of her dress slightly, began to run for the exit.

However, as she reached the doors a wall of ice blocked her. She turned slightly to see her father standing, his eyes glowing faintly with a scowl on his face, looking her way. “This is a bad time to be having second doubts Lorena,” he scolded without raising his voice. “You’re clearly not feeling well. Take a few deep breaths and then come finish the ceremony. Then you can have some time to rest before you come back for the reception. And then you will feel so silly about how you are acting right now,” he continued.

Medusa did not falter. She knew he was angrier than this. He was just doing damage control, so that he did not look bad. She knew very well what would happen if she went back and did as she was told. She would not be herself after she ‘rested’. But she was done with this, and she had an advantage.

“No. I know very well what I am doing and saying. I am not just speaking or behaving oddly because of illness. I am done with the abuse I have suffered because of the family, and what I stand to face should I go through with this unwanted marriage that I had absolutely no say in until now.” she said back. She then made a deliberate show of taking off the fake ring that subdued her powers.

Medusa almost laughed at the shock and flare of anger that shown on her father’s face. She dropped the ring and her own eyes began to glow. “From now on I will be my own woman, or die trying,” she said before pointing at the ice wall and shattering it with a spike of stone. “Goodbye.”

Once more she lifted her dress slightly and took off running. Raising her own wall of stone behind her. She cared not about the shouts and sudden talking that arose. No doubt full of confusion and outrage and other things. She just had to run. Get to one of the places she had scouted out before they caught up to her and tried to drag her back.

When Medusa made it to the forest that was near by she quickly went to the first place she had mentally noted. Wasting no time she grabbed a sharp rock and started tearing into the dress to get out of it. She had some satisfaction destroying the dress but she could not relish in it either. Once she could get out of it she threw it down and tossed aside the heels she was wearing. Leaving her in just the corset and undergarments.

She grabbed the outfit she had stashed nearby but paused a moment. It sounded like some kind of commotion in the distance and it worried her. She quickly threw on the light burgundy jacket and matching skirt, leaving the blouse behind and not bothering to button the jacket, before slipping into the flat dress shoes she had. She could not risk trying to put on the blouse as it had buttons as well. It was perhaps the one folly of her planning. Either way, she took off running once more before the sounds could get closer. At least now she could move faster than before.

However, her health, and the corset, took its toll on her sooner than she hoped it would. She knew she would not be able to make it to her next spot without collapsing. So Medusa went to the nearest cluster of trees, put herself in a decent spot within them that was lightly hidden and curled up on the ground.

The next part she was nervous about. She was always nervous when she practiced it. But it was an option she had to use. She would not be able to sustain an illusion for long enough. She took a few deep breaths before creating a stone oval around her. It was just big enough to fit her, but it had to be small enough to be convincing. It had to look like it belonged there. The outside looked rough and weathered, but on the inside for her it was smooth and had a few little holes so air could come in.

This was it.

Either she could hide long enough for them to pass by or give up...

or she had just created her own tomb.

And for now all she could do was think of the one boy she saw when she was little that she can’t really remember. Maybe she had actually met him briefly. She wasn’t sure anymore. Medusa knew her memories of him, and of the event had been tampered with, and being older now did not help either. All she could say for certain was that it was a gathering of some clans. She had been dragged along by her parents. And this one boy had captured her attention for one reason or another.

But she could never stray too far from her parents. And she thinks the boy had brothers. Maybe she didn’t meet him but had heard someone else say his name? Medusa wishes she could get those memories back. Maybe then she would know if she had crossed paths with the boy again since then. If she knew him now without realizing it.

Medusa supposed it did not matter now. Even if she wonders these things. Wonders what that boy grew up to be, if he was married, or other things...she may not make it out of this situation alive.

And even if she did...it may be too risky to find out anyway.

#random prompt #Medusa Stellato #Lorena Stellato #Vincent Stellato #under a read more mainly because of lenght

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bigskydreaming · 4 years

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Can we just talk about all the age reversal aus where Robin is still a thing before Dick comes around??? It makes no sense!!!! Ik you’ve done a post on the importance of Robin before and it just really ticks me off!!! Like, if Damian is the oldest, why would he go by a bird name when he works with Batman? It would make more sense to be like ‘Shadow’ or ‘Shriken’ or just plain ‘Batkid’ but all these authors use the name Robin and then show Jason being resentful when Dick takes it over. Just wtf?

Tbh, I don’t have a ton to say on that particular subject other than I agree with you on it not making a lot of sense, because I just don’t really tend to read age reversal AUs anymore. They’re just not a premise that draws me in, y’know? I have issues with the way Dick’s status as the oldest brother tends to lead to him and his own problems being taken for granted at times, but the solution to that which I’m looking for is to have that addressed, not to have Dick just not be the oldest sibling anymore. I like Dick the way he is….I’m as fond of AUs as the next person, but ones that kinda alter the core of him just aren’t for me.

Like….how to put this…..from my perspective, I’ve noticed that outside of fics by authors who consider themselves Dick stans first and foremost out of all the characters, there’s three distinct tropes in the vast majority of fics where Dick plays a major role, and is regarded sympathetically rather than being in the way:

1) Fics about Tarantula, 2) Fics where Dick is a Talon and 3) Age Reversal AUs.

And the one common element in these tropes is they’re most commonly utilized while depicting Dick as particularly vulnerable, to the extent that he’s like….dependent on the other characters.

In the vast majority of Tarantula fics - majority, not all, there are exceptions of course - but the common thread is Dick tends to have very little agency in even the aftermath of what happened with Tarantula. He’s usually not granted the right of disclosure….people find out despite his wants there, and often despite his attempts to keep it from them (huge pet peeve just btw…..people, disclosure is a HUGELY big deal to survivors, because its one of THE single most powerful ways in which survivors take back control over their lives….they might not have control over what happened, but they can control who they tell about it and when. The tendency to write fics about survivors but displaying no real thought towards the fact that many survivors NEED agency over who they disclose to and when, is part of why I tend to rant about people kinda….commercializing this particular trauma even while saying they do so in the name of spreading awareness or healing or stuff like that….because they’re not actually like….thinking about things from the viewpoint of the survivor. In many instances, stealing a survivor’s right to disclose at the time and place of their choosing can be massively retraumatizing in its own way. And again, please don’t talk to me about how I’m generalizing or insisting there’s only one right way to write survivors…I know I’m generalizing, I’m talking about TRENDS, not specific fics, and I’m not saying its NEVER okay to write things this way, I’m simply commenting on how often things ONLY seem to be written this way).

But anyway, point is, a common theme throughout these fics is that despite Dick being central to them, its a story ABOUT him and what happened to him, rather than actually being HIS story. He himself has very little role in many of these stories, they’re more about what the others do to avenge him, or to take care of him, etc…..which is great in principle….I just can’t help but note the emphasis on him being dependent on others throughout it.

Which brings us to number two, fics where Dick is a Talon…..I’ve talked before how I just kinda can’t, and back out of fics where Dick remains a Talon or altered by the Talon process, because I think most people do that as kind of a metaphor for a disability and finding ways to live with a disability, but to me it will always read as body horror, because this isn’t so much Dick being disabled as it is him being altered head to toe in very deliberate ways by his abusers with the intention of making him something other than he is, and something he never ever chooses or wants to be. And the fact that there’s no need to write stories with disability metaphors, you can just write a character having a disability, so it always kinda feels unnecessary to me, personally, and an inherent tragedy because this was DONE to Dick, and thus is a permanent reminder of his abuse at the hands of his abusers….which is not inherently the same thing as adjusting to life with a disability, though there can be overlap, obviously.

But the other tendency of the Talon Dick trope is how often this results in him being mentally altered. And not just in a brainwashed kind of way, as many of these fics have him raised as a Talon since his parents died and then rescued by the Batfam….but his entire mentality, personality and way of processing things and even speaking is altered….and the thing that bugs me about this is…..why? Why is this choice so prevalent in these fics, when there’s literally nothing innate about the Talons in canon that says the Talon process mentally changes their minds and personalities in this kind of way? Most of the Talons we see don’t speak….because they’re intended to be seen as mindless minions, a force of nature rather than people….its meant to add to their mystique, their threat, their legend….largely on orders of the Court, who thrives on those kind of things. But who is the Talon we see the most of in canon, the Talon that we’re specifically told time and time again the Court means Dick to replace, be the heir of? William Cobb.

And William is nothing like the way Dick is depicted in most Talon fics. He’s the same as he was before he was changed, just with the changes to his biology now. Mentally and personality-wise, he’s still the same as he was before it. And even in the recent Nightwing comic where Ric was finally brainwashed into being the Talon the Court has been manipulating him towards becoming throughout this storyline…..obviously, the Talon process hadn’t occurred yet, but even with the brainwashing, Ric mentally was still himself in the sense that he could process things, make decisions, speak all just the same as he did before he put on the brainwashing goggles….he didn’t speak most of the time because again, Talons are meant by the Court to be mostly silent enigmas….but when pressed, he was absolutely still capable of it, the same as before.

So again, the question is….why this particular choice, with this trope? To have Dick so radically altered not just in body, and with the emphasis rarely even placed on his bodily changes, as usually they come up with some tech disguise for him or use makeup to make him appear the same as he usually does, at which point his changes aren’t mentioned all that much other than to display his healing factor. No, the emphasis by and large is to how different he is mentally….even though there’s literally nothing about the Talon the Court wants him to be in canon, which dictates that he has to be in any way mentally altered by the process of becoming one. It isn’t his mental faculties the Court has a problem with, its his morals. No other brainwashing or mental conditioning method in comics or fics places such a strong emphasis on limiting the person’s mental capabilities rather than just altering their morality and way of thinking…so why is it different here, with Dick’s stories? And the only common result I can ever find is that it diminishes Dick’s autonomy and makes him vulnerable in a specific way where he’s dependent on the others to a huge degree, due to being less socially capable or even just mentally capable on his own.

And then finally we have the reverse ages AUs, in which Dick is still himself as he was as a young Robin in canon…..just the baby of the family, doted on and protected by his family, who are all fiercely defensive of him and in many of these stories, drop everything to rush to his aid when he’s in danger and rescue him. Which again, is perfectly fine in theory, but the thing this raises for me is…..how distinct this is from Dick’s actual time as Robin, where the actual emphasis was on how capable he was despite his young age, how autonomous and independent and competent even when face to face with villains twice his size and three times his age.

Situations like with Two-Face were the exception in his stories, not the norm…..much like the later Robins, like Jason before his death, Tim for over a decade in comics, Damian to this day….all roughly the same age Dick is in these reverse Robin AUs…..but when has Damian ever been depicted as that vulnerable and in need of his siblings’ protection, in canon? When was Tim? And in Dick’s own time as Robin when he was actually that age in canon…..how would he have ever lasted as Robin without all these older siblings in canon, let alone managed to become the inspiration for entire generations of other child heroes….if he weren’t as capable of protecting himself as he was…in actual canon?

Again, the focus of the premise, like with the other two tropes, often seems geared towards emphasizing a vulnerability that is kinda just…chosen for Dick, rather than being an inevitability of that trope, and results in him being particularly dependent on the rest of his family.

Understand, I’m not saying this to say oh these fics are all bad and shouldn’t exist, lol, I’m just expressing the common element through all of them that’s why they don’t appeal to me in particular - because as I’ve always emphasized in pretty much all my posts, one of the greatest appeals to me about Dick Grayson, and one of the things I love about him most, is his fierce independence, his commitment to being his own person and standing on his own two feet. And its why I have an issue with the common thread of infantilization that runs through a lot of the fanon tropes that treat him as though he’s incapable of feeding himself, clothing himself, or even cleaning up after himself or conducting himself in public without the help of others.

Because my issue isn’t that these things exist, its that I’m always going to want to know WHY.

Why, when Dick’s core characterization has always revolved around his insistence on his own personal agency and autonomy…..do so many stories revolve around…..denying him this, or stripping it away?

Why is it that he’s most appealing to many people when he’s not just dependent on his family, but forced to be dependent by the very premise of a story, with no choice or alternative in the matter?

What makes that such a common trend, and with his character in specific, as opposed to Jason, Tim, Damian, etc….none of whom display similar trends in their stories or most prevalent tropes?

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