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c-is-for-circinate · 3 years

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For a long, large part of my life, being queer in a media landscape--finding queerness in a media landscape--has meant theft.

I'm a Fandom Old, somehow, these days, older than most and younger than some, in that way that's grown associated with grumpy crotchetyness and shotguns on porches and back in my day, we had to wade through our Yahoo Groups mailing lists uphill both ways, boring and irrelevant anecdotes from Back In Those Days when homophobia clearly worked differently than it does now, probably because we weren't trying hard enough. I've seen a lot of stories through the years. I've read a lot of fanfic. (More days than not, for the past twenty years. I've read a lot of fanfic.)

When people my age start groaning and sighing at conversations about representation and queerbaiting, when we roll our eyes and drag all the old war stories out again in the face of AO3 is terrible and Not Good Enough, so often what we say is: you Young Folks Today have no idea how hard, how scary, how limiting it was to be queer anywhere Back In Those Days. Including online, maybe especially online, including in a media landscape that hated us so much more than any one you've ever known. And that is true. Always and everywhere, again and again, it's true, we remember, it's true.

We don't talk so much about the joy of it.

Online fan spaces were my very first queer communities, ever. I was thirteen, I was fourteen, I was fifteen--I was a lonely, over-precocious "gifted kid" two years too young for my grade level in an all-girls' Catholic school in the suburbs--I lived in a world where gay people were a rumor and an insult and a news story about murder. I was straight, of course, obviously, because real people were straight and anyway I was weird enough already--I couldn't be two things strange, couldn't be gay too, but--well, I could read the stories. I could feel things about that. I would have those stories to help me, a few years later, when I knew I couldn't call myself straight any more.

And those stories were theft. There was never any doubt about that. We wrote disclaimers at the top of every fic, with the specter of Anne Rice's lawyers around every corner. We hid in back-corners of the internet, places you could only find through a link from a link from a link on somebody else's recs page, being grateful for the tiny single-fandom archives when you found them, grateful for the webrings where they existed. It was theft, all of it, the stories about characters we did not own, the videotaped episodes on your best friend's VHS player, one single episode pulled off of Limewire over the course of three days.

It was theft, we knew, to even try and find ourselves in these stories to begin with. How many fics did I read in those days about two men who'd always been straight, except for each other, in this one case, when love was stronger than sexual orientation? We stole our characters away from the heterosexual lives they were destined to have. We stole them away from writers and producers and TV networks who work overtime to shower them in Babes of the Week, to pretend that queerness was never even an option. This wasn't given to us. This wasn't meant for us. This wasn't ours to have, ever, ever in the first place. But we took it anyway.

And oh, my friends, it was glorious.

We took it. We stole. And again and again, for years and years and years, we turned that theft into an art. We looked for every opening, every crack in every sidewalk where a little sprout of queerness might grow, and we claimed it for our own and we grew whole gardens. We grew so sly and so skilled with it, learning to spot the hints of oh, this could be slashy in every new show and movie to come our way. Do you see how they left these character dynamics here, unattended on the table? How ripe they are for the pocketing. Here, I'll help you carry them. We'll make off with these so-called straight boys, and we only have to look back if somebody sets out another scene we want for our own.

We were thieves, all of us, and that was fine and that was fair, because to exist as queer in the world was theft to begin with. Stolen time, stolen moments--grand larceny of the institution of marriage, breaking and entering to rob my mother's hopes for grandchildren. Every shoplifted glance at the wrong person in the locker room (and it didn't matter if we never peeked, never dared, they called us out on it anyway). Every character in every fic whose queerness became a crime against this ex-wife, that new love interest. Every time we dared steal ourselves away from the good straight partners we didn't want to date.

And: we built ourselves a den, we thieves, wallpapered in stolen images and filled to the brim with all the words we'd written ourselves. We built ourselves a home, and we filled it with joy. Every vid and art and fic, every ship, every squee. Over and over, every straight boy protagonist who abandoned all womankind for just this one exception with his straight boy protagonist partner found gay orgasms and true love at the end.

Over and over, we said: this isn't ours, this isn't meant to be ours, you did not give this to us--but we are taking it anyway. We will burglarize you for building blocks and build ourselves a palace. These stories and this place in the world is not for us, but we exist, and you can't stop us. It's ours now, full of color and noise, a thousand peoples' ideas mosaic'ed together in celebration. We made this, and it will never be just yours again. You won't ever truly get it back, no matter how many lawyers you send, not completely. We keep what we steal.

Things shifted over time, of course. That's good. That's to be celebrated. Nobody should have to steal to survive. It should not be a crime, should not feel like a crime, to find yourself and your space in the world.

There were always content creators who could slip a little wink in when they laid out their wares, oh what's this over here, silly me leaving this unattended where anybody could grab it, of course there might be more over by the side door if you come around the alleyway (but if anybody asks, you didn't get this from ME). We all watched Xena marry Gabrielle, in body language and between the lines. We sat around and traded theories and rumors about whether the people writing Due South knew what they were doing when they sent their buddy cops off into the frozen north alone together at the end of the show, if they'd done it on purpose, if they knew. But over the years, slowly, thankfully, the winks became less sly.

A teenage boy put his hand on another teenage boy's hand and said, you move me, and they kissed on network TV, in a prime-time show, on FOX, and the world didn't burn down. Here and there, where they wanted to, where they could without getting caught by their bosses and managers, content creators stopped subtly nudging people around the back door and started saying, "Here. This is on offer here too, on purpose. You get to have this, too."

And of course, of course that came with a whole host of problems too. Slide around to the back door but you didn't get this from me turned into it's an item on our special menu, totally legit, you've just got to ask because the boss throws a fit if we put it out front. Shopkeepers and content creators started advertising on the sly, come buy your fix here!, hiding the fine print that says you still have to take what you've purchased home and rebuild it with your semi-legal IKEA hacks. Maybe they'll consider listing that Destiel or Sterek as a full-service menu item next year. Is that Crowley/Aziraphale the real thing or is it lite?

And those problems are real and the conversations are worth having, and it's absolutely fair to be frustrated that you can't find the ship you want on sale in anything like your color and size in a vast media landscape packed full of discount hetships and fast-fashion m/f. It's fair to be angry. It's fair to be frustrated. Queerbait is a word that exists for a reason.

There's a part of me that hurts, though, every time the topic comes up. It's a confusing, bad-mannered part of me, but it's still very real. And it's not because I'm fawning for crumbs, trying to be the Good, Non-Threatening Gay. It's not that I'm scared and traumatized by the thought of what might happen if we dare raise our voices and ask for attention. (Well. Not mostly. I'll always remember being quiet and scared and fifteen, but it's been a long two decades since then. I know how to ask for a hell of a lot more now.)

It's because I remember that cozy, plush-wallpapered den of joyful thieves. I remember you keep what you steal.

Every single time--every time--when a story I love sets a couple of characters out on a low, unguarded table, perfectly placed to be pilfered on the sly and taken home and smushed together like a couple of dolls, my very first thought is always, always joy. Always, that instinct says, yay! Says, this is ours now. As soon as I go home and crawl into that pillow-fort den, my instincts say, I will surely find people already at work combing through spoils and finding new ways to combine them, new ways to make them our own. I know there's fic for that. I've already seen fic for that, and I wasn't really interested last time, but the new store display's got my brain churning, and I can't wait to see what the crew back at the hideout does with this.

Every time, that's where my brain goes. And oh, when I realize the display's put out on purpose, that somebody snuck in a legitimate special menu item, when the proprietor gives me the nod and wink and says, you don't have to come around the side, I know it's not much but here--there is so much joy and relief and hope in me from that! Oh, what we can make with these beautiful building blocks. Oh what a story we can craft from the pieces. Oh, the things we can cobble together. Look at that, this one's a little skimpy on parts but we can supplement it, this one's got a whole outline we can fill in however we want. This one technically comes semi-preassembled, and that's boring as shit and a pain to take back apart, but that's fine, we'll manage. We're artists and thieves. I bet someone's pulling out the AU saw to cut it to pieces already.

And then I get back to our den, which has moved addresses a dozen times over the years and mostly hangs out on Tumblr now (and the roof leaks and the landlord's sketchy as fuck but at least they don't charge rent, and we've made worse places our own). And I show up, ready for joy--ready for a dozen other people who saw that low-hanging fruit on that unguarded table, who got the nod and wink about the special menu item, who're ready to get so excited about this newest haul. Did you see what we picked up? The theft was so easy, practically begging to be stolen. The last owner was an idiot with no idea what to do with it. The last owner knew exactly what it could become, bless their heart, under a craftsman with more time on their hands, so they looked away on purpose at just the right time to let me take it home. I show up every time ready for our space, the place that fed me on joy and self-confidence when I was fifteen and starving. The place that taught me, yes, we are thieves, because it is RIGHT to take what we need, and the beautiful things we create are their own justification. We are thieves, and that's wonderful, because nothing is handed to us and that means we get to build our own palaces. We get to keep everything we steal.

I go home, and even knowing the world is different, my instincts and heart are waiting for that. And I walk in the door, and I look at my dash, and I glance over at twitter, and--

And people are angry, again. Angry at the slim pickings from the hidden special menu. So, so tired and angry, at once again having to steal.

And they're right to be! Sometimes (often, maybe) I think they're angry at the wrong people--more angry with the shopkeeper who offers the bite-sized sampler platter of side characters or sneaks their queer content in on the special menu than the ones who don't include it at all. But it's not wrong to be mad that Disney's once again advertising their First Gay Character only to find out it's a tiny sprinkle of a one-line extra on an otherwise straight sundae. It's not wrong to be furious at the world because you've spent your whole life needing to be a thief to survive. It's far from wrong. I'm angry about it too.

But this was my den of thieves, my chop shop, my makerspace. Growing up in fandom, I learned to pick the locks on stories and crack the safes of subtext at the very same time I learned to create. They were the same thing, the same art. We are thieves, my heart says, we are thieves, and that's what makes us better than the people we steal from. We deconstruct every time we create. We build better things out of the pieces.

And people are angry that the pre-fab materials are too hard to find, the pickings too slim, the items on sale too limited? Yes, of course they are, of course they should be--but my heart. Oh, my heart. Every single time, just a little bit, it breaks.

Of course the stories are terrible (they have always been terrible). Of course they are, but we are thieves. We steal the best parts and cobble them back together and what we make is better than it was before. The craftsman's eye that cases a story for weak points, for blank spaces, for anywhere we can fit a crowbar and pry apart this casing--that's skill and art and joy. Of course we shouldn't have to, of course we shouldn't have to, but I still love it. I still want it, crave it. I still thrill every time I see it, a story with hairline cracks that we can work open with clever hands to let the queer in.

That used to be cause for celebration, around here. I ask him to go back to the ruins of Aeor with me, two men together alone on an expedition in the frozen north, it feels like a gift. And I understand why some people take it as an insult. I understand not good enough. I understand how something can feel like a few drops of water to someone dying of thirst, like a slap in the face. If it was so easy to sneak it hidden onto the special menu, to place it on the unguarded side table for someone else to run off to, why not let it sit out front and center in the first place? I know it's frustrating. It should be. We should fight. We should always fight. I know why.

But my heart, oh, my heart. My heart only knows what it's been taught. My heart sees, this thing right here, the proprietor left it there for you with a nod and a wink because they Get It. It's not put together yet, but it's better that way anyway. It's so full of pieces to pull apart and reassemble. I bet they've got a whole mosaic wall going up at home already. We can bring it home and make it OURS, more than it was ever theirs, forget half of what it came from and grow a new garden in what remains.

And I go home to find anger, and my heart breaks instead.

#I don't actually know how to tag this #representation #maybe?#C needs help feeding the dinosaurs #because this is very much about being a fandom old #probably also #driveby meta attack #because that's where I keep my impromptu rambles #CR spoilers #technically I guess?#there's one line that references the finale #fandom history

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nevermindirah · 3 years

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Do you have any thoughts on the use of AAVE for Nile (or lack thereof) in TOG fanfiction? I've been reading some Book of Nile fic and some writers seem to write her as a Millennial™ (using words like "fave" and "woke") but never acknowledge her Blackness in her patterns of speech. I know we don't see her use as much AAVE in the films, but I would argue she's in situations where code-switching would be valued (first in a "professional" environment in the army, then around a group of non-Black strangers).

Hi anon! I have many thoughts on this and I'm honored you asked me! But I should start by saying I'm white and any thoughts Black fans and especially Black American fans have on this that they want to share would be beyond lovely. (I'm not gonna tag anybody bc that feels rude but please add onto this post if any of y'all see this and want to!)

The main reason I personally avoid AAVE for Nile in my own fics is because I'm not Black. But Nile-centric fics by Black writers tend to avoid using much of it too, at least from what I've noticed/understood, and my guess is it's largely for the reason you mention, that she's in situations that encourage code-switching.

In movie canon Nile is highly competent at tailoring her language to each situation she finds herself in. This fantastic linguistics analysis meta shows how skillfully Nile chooses her vocabulary and grammar to meet her goals with different conversation partners in different contexts. In comics canon Nile had a bunch of different civilian jobs before joining the Marines, so she would've had experience code-switching in the ways that made sense for all those different contexts as well as the Marines and her family and high school and wherever else she spent her time before we met her. And now she's spending her time with a handful of immortals none of whom are native English speakers and a fellow Black American but one with a Queen's English UK accent whose professional experience is in the CIA where high-status code-switching is often an absolute must for success or even survival.

Fics featuring Nile are charged with extrapolating from that to how it might show up in her use of language that she's coping with a traumatic separation from her family and her career and pretty much everything she's ever known and now she needs to be able to make herself understood to people who seem to care about her and each other but are super duper in crisis, three (soon to be four) of whom predate Modern English entirely and the only one who's anywhere near her contemporary she's not supposed to talk to for a century. All of these people are telling her that pretty much any contact with any mortals poses an existential threat to her and the rest of the group. How the FUCK is she supposed to cope with that, like, generally? And would it be a more effective way for her to cope if she talked to Andy Joe and Nicky using the speech patterns that she used to use with her mom and brother, to at least retain that part of her identity even if it means having to do a lot of explaining, or would it meet her needs better to prioritize Andy Joe and Nicky understanding what she means with her words over using the particular words and grammar forms she used with her family?

I've seen several fics, both Nile-centric / BoN and otherwise, explore this a little bit in how/whether Nile uses Millennial™ speak. It's often a theme in Nile texting Booker despite the exile because of the popular headcanon that he as The Tech Guy is the only other immortal who understands memes. But Nile's much-younger-than-Booker mom probably uses Boomer and/or Gen X memes and Andy has been adapting to new communication styles for forever as evidenced by her canon high level of fluency with standard-American-accented English.

Which brings us back to people avoiding AAVE because they're not Black and they don't want to make mistakes (or they're not Black and they don't want to get yelled at for making mistakes, though I think many people overestimate how much they'll get yelled at while underestimating how much these mistakes can hurt). I can imagine some Black fans hold back from using much AAVE in fic because they don't want to share in-group stuff with white people who are likely to then adopt and ruin it, as white people so often do with Black cultural stuff. Some links about this including a great Khadija Mbowe video. I'm saying this gently, anon, because you might not know: woke, an example you cited as Millennial™ speak, is AAVE, and that's gotten erased by so many white people appropriating it and using it incorrectly online.

And also there's the part where fandom is a hobby and you never know when you're reading a fic that's the very first thing someone's ever written outside of a school assignment. This cultural considerations of language shit takes a level of effort and skill that not everybody puts into every fic, or even could if they wanted to because they haven't had time to build their skills yet. It's definitely easier for non-Black fans to project our millennial feels onto Nile than to do the layers of research and self-reflection it requires to depict what Blackness might mean to Nile, and it's not surprising that often people sharing their hobby creations on the internet have gone the easier route. There's not even necessarily shame in doing what's easier. It's just frustrating and often hurtful when structural white supremacy means that 3-dimensional Black characters are rare in media and thoughtful explorations of them in fandom are seen by the majority of fans as not-easy to make and therefore Nile Freeman, the main character in The Old Guard (2020) dir. Gina Prince-Bythewood, has the least fic and meta and art made about her of our 5 main immortals.

I've been active in different fandoms off and on for twenty years and I barely managed to write 5,000 words about Sam Wilson across multiple different fics in the 7 years since I fell in love with him. There's an alchemy to which characters we connect with, and on top of that which characters we connect with in a way that causes us to create stuff about them. Something about Nile Freeman finally tipped me over the edge from a voracious reader to a voracious writer. It's not for me to judge which characters speak to other individuals to the level of creating content about them, but I do think it's important for us to notice, and then work to fight, the pattern where across this fandom as a whole Nile gets way less content, and way less depth in so much of the content that's in theory about her, than any of these other characters.

Anyway, back to language. My two long fics feature Nile with several Black friends — Copley and OCs and cameos from other media — but all of those characters except Alec Hardison from Leverage aren't American. It's very possible I'm guilty of stereotyping Black British speech patterns in I See Your Eyes Seek a Distant Shore. I watched hours and hours of Black haircare YouTube videos in the research for that fic and I modeled my OCs' speech patterns on what I heard from some of those YouTubers as well as what I've heard people like John Boyega and Idris Elba saying in interviews, but the thing about doing your best is you still might fuck up.

I'm slowly making progress on my WIP where Nile and Sam Wilson are cousins, and what ways of talking with a family member might be authentic for Nile is a major question I need to figure out. For that, I'm largely modeling my writing choices on how I hear my Black friends and colleagues talking to each other. I haven't overheard colleagues talking in an office in a long-ass time, but back when that was a thing, I remember seeing a ton of nuance in the different ways many of my Black colleagues would talk to each other. Different people have different personalities! And backgrounds! And priorities! A few jobs ago my department was about 1/3 Black and we worked closely with Obama administration staff many of whom were Black and there was SO MUCH VARIETY in how Black people talked to each other, about work and workplace-appropriate personal stuff, where I and other white coworkers could hear. There are a few work friends in particular who I have in my head when I'm trying to imagine how Sam and Nile might talk to each other. From the outside looking in, God DAMN is shit complicated, intellectually and interpersonally and spiritually, for Black people who are devoting their professional lives to public service in the United States.

One more aspect of this that I have big thoughts on but I need to take extra care in talking about is the idea of acknowledging Nile's Blackness in her patterns of speech. There's no one right way to be Black, and Nile's a fictional character created by a white dude but there are plenty of real-life Black Americans who don't use much or even any AAVE, for reasons that are complicated because of white supremacy. (Highly highly recommend this video by Shanspeare on the harms of the Oreo stereotype.)

Something that's not the same but has enough similarity that I think it's worth talking about is my personal experience with authenticity and American Jewish speech patterns. My Jewish family members don't talk like they're in The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, and I've known lots of people who do talk that way (or the millennial version of it), some of whom have questioned my Jewishness because I don't talk that way. That hurts me. Sometimes when another Jew tells me some shit like "I've never heard a Jew say y'all'd've," I can respond with "well now you have asshole, bless your Yankee-ass heart," because the myth of Dixie is a racist lie but I will totally call white Northerners Yankees when they're being shitty to me for being Southern, and this particular Jew fucking revels in using "bless your heart" with maximum polite aggression, especially with said Yankees. But sometimes I don't have it in me to say anything and it just quietly hurts having an important part of me disbelieved by someone who shares that important part of me. The sting isn't quite the same when non-Jews disbelieve or discount my Jewishness, but that hurts too.

Who counts as authentically Jewish is a messy in-group conversation and it doesn't really make sense to explain it all here. Who counts as authentically Jewish is a matter of legal status for immigration, citizenship, and civil rights in Israel, and it's my number 2 reason after horrific treatment of Palestinians that I'm antizionist. But outside that extremely high-stakes legal situation, it can just feel really shitty to not be recognized as One Of Us, especially by your own people.

It can also feel really shitty to be The Only One of Your Kind in a group, even if that group is an immortal chosen family who all loves each other dearly. Sometimes especially in a situation like that where you know those people love you but there are certain things they don't get about you and will never quite be able to. I'm definitely projecting at least a little bit of my "lonely Jew who will be alone again for yet another Jewish holiday" stuff onto Nile when at the end of I See Your Eyes Seek a Distant Shore she's thinking about being the only Black immortal and moving away from the community she'd built with a mostly-Black group of mortals in that fic. Maybe that tracks, or maybe that's fucked up of me.

Basically, this got very long but it's complicated, writing about experiences that aren't your own takes skill which in turn takes time and practice to build, writing about experiences not your own that our society maligns can cause a lot of harm if done badly, it can also cause a lot of harm when a large enough portion of a fandom just decides to nope out of something that's difficult and risky because then there's just not much content about a character who deserves just a shit ton of loving and nuanced content, people are individuals and two people who come from the exact same cultural context might show that influence in all kinds of different ways, identity is complicated, language is complicated, writing is hard, and empathy and humility and doing our best aren't a guarantee of avoiding harm but they do go a long way in helping people create thoughtful content about a character as awesome and powerful and kind and messy and scared and curious and WORTHY as Nile Freeman.

#nile freeman #linguistics #TOG POC Love Fest #nileweek2021 #tog meta #tog #long post #mine #antiblackness #jewish things #hi i'm an antizionist jew no i don't really want to talk about it

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jamlavender · 3 years

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Gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss: Mrs Coulter, misogyny and the His Dark Materials TV show

The show went hard on misogyny as a vital part of Mrs Coulter’s backstory, and I want to talk about how they did it, and why, and how it might have been done better. This is quite long (when is anything I write not, let’s be real) so it’s under the cut. Read on for thoughts on women, power and fictional villainy.

As a quick disclaimer, though: I’ve enjoyed the show a lot! I’m so glad they made it! Ruth Wilson is mesmerising as Mrs Coulter! There’s so much to appreciate about the show overall, including many aspects of Mrs Coulter’s portrayal. But the HDM team have also made gender politics and misogyny very explicit themes of the show – particularly season two, particularly season two, episode five – and I think it’s fair to critique that.

Let’s be clear: Mrs Coulter is a villain. She murders kids by tearing out their souls. She kills and tortures friends and foes alike without a second thought. She abuses her daughter. She upholds and advances a totalitarian regime. She’s a Bad Person, as confirmed by God himself with the unforgettable line: “You are a cesspit of moral filth.” She’s fucking terrible, but, in life as in art, many of us are fascinated by how such awful people are made. What drives someone to commit atrocities? I am keen to see such questions examined in fiction, because I don’t think exploring a character necessarily means excusing their actions, and because it’s interesting (I mean, of course I find her fascinating, I’ve written a novel’s worth of fic about her). However, after a few snarky comments (“What sort of woman raised Father Graves, do you think?”) and some subtler commentary on sexuality, gender and power (her unsettling MacPhail with the key in the bra in S1E2), S2E5 drew a weird line between sexism in Mrs Coulter’s professional and academic life and her vast and senseless institutionalised child murder, and the longer I’ve sat with that the more I’m like: what the fuck?

Look, Mrs Coulter doesn’t tear apart children to search for sin inside them and poison Boreal and break a witch’s fingers because she’s experienced sexism in the workplace and in her education. That’s… a very odd thing to imply. We have to remember that there are lots of women in Lyra’s world, all of whom will also have experienced sexism, misogyny and other forms of marginalisation (many in more expansive and pernicious ways than Mrs Coulter, who’s a woman, yes, but also white, wealthy, highly educated and very thin and beautiful), and none of them are running arctic torture stations. She will have experienced misogyny, absolutely, and that will have affected her in various ways that inform how she approaches her work, but to imply that being denied a doctorate is the reason she became a sadistic killer is frankly bizarre. Here are a few of the lines from that episode with my commentary:

“Do you know who I could have been in this world?” What does this mean? If she’d been roughly the same person in our world, the answer is: Margaret Thatcher, which is probably a step down for Marisa, all things considered, because the Magisterium is far more autocratic than any recent Tory government and would be a much easier institutional environment in which to enact her cruelty. What we’re supposed to think, clearly, is that she’d have been a different person: a scientist and a mother, and she’s had this realisation because she saw a woman with a baby and a laptop and had a three-minute conversation with Mary. This doesn’t make sense. We live in our world! It’s less repressive than Lyra’s world but it’s hardly a gender utopia. If Mrs Coulter had chosen the scientist-and-mother life (which, as I’ll revisit later, she could have done in her world but chose not to because of her megalomaniac tendencies), she’d still have been affected by misogyny here too. Our world is not kind to young mothers, nor young women embroiled in scandals, nor is the world teeming with female physicists. It might be a little better, sure, but it’s hardly as if those gendered challenges would have been solved.

“What do you mean she runs a department?” This is just the show forgetting its own canon. Marisa, you ran a massive government organisation (the GOB), including a huge murder science research initiative in the Arctic. That’s a much bigger undertaking and much more impressive than running a university department in our world. Pull yourself together.

“But because I was a woman, I was denied a doctorate by the Magisterium.” This is the show flagrantly ignoring the source material to make a clumsy political point. In the books, there are women with doctorates (notably Hannah Relf, also a major player in the new Book of Dust trilogy) and at least one women’s college full of female scholars. Now, would that women’s college likely be underfunded and disrespected compared to the men’s colleges? Almost certainly. But saying that is different than saying “I couldn’t get my doctorate!” when women in Lyra’s world can. The show knew what point they wanted to make, and were willing to ignore canon to do so, which is frustrating. Also, given that there are female academics and scientists in Lyra’s world, and that Mrs Coulter is a member of St Sophia’s college, it’s clear that she could have lived that life if she so desired. But she didn’t want that, because being a scientist and academic at St Sophia’s imbues her with no real power, and that’s what she craves.

I’m not opposed, in theory, to exploring Mrs Coulter and misogyny in more depth, but I think doing so through an examination of the sexual politics of her life would have made a lot more narrative sense and been much more powerful. It’s better evidenced in the text – her using her sexuality to manipulate people and taking lovers for political sway is entirely canon, as is her backstory where genuine love and lust blew up her life – and it links much more closely with the most shocking of her villainy, which involves cutting out children’s dæmons to stop them developing “troublesome thoughts and feelings,” referencing sexual and romantic desire (and what Lyra and Will do to save Dust is clearly a big ‘fuck you’ to those aims). She even says this to MacPhail in TAS, “If you thought for one moment that I would release my daughter into the care - the care! - of a body of men with a feverish obsession with sexuality, men with dirty fingernails, reeking of ancient sweat, men whose furtive imaginations would crawl over her body like cockroaches - if you thought I would expose my child to that, my Lord President, you are more stupid than you take me for.” Don’t get me wrong, she’d have been a villain regardless, but I do believe that there’s a much stronger link between her sexual and romantic experiences and her murder work than between professional and academic stifling and child murder. It would have been a lot more interesting and a lot less tenuous.

However, the show is trying to be family-friendly, and digging into why this terrible, cruel woman might want to cut the ability for desire and love (and other non-sexual adult feelings, I’m sure) out of people could get dark. We know that the show doesn’t want to go there, because they’ve actively toned down her weaponising her sexuality: in the books, she has an established sexual relationship with Boreal, whereas the show made it seem like she’s been stringing him along all this time, and made it about potentially ‘sharing a life’ together rather than fucking, which was clearly the arrangement in the books. Also, I think Ruth Wilson said she and Ariyon Bakare filmed a “steamy scene” together, and given that only a single chaste kiss between them aired it must have been cut. I think they deliberately minimised the sexual elements of the text, particularly regarding Mrs Coulter (the mountain scene with Asriel, which I did still love, was also a lot less horny than in the book) and replaced that with another gender issue, that of professional sexism, as if the two are interchangeable, which they are not. This is a shame, both for Mrs Coulter’s character and also for the story as a whole, because the characters’ relationships with sex and desire are an important part of the books! (If this minimised sexuality approach means that they don’t use the TAS scene where Asriel threatens to gag her and she tries to goad him into doing it, I’ll scream). Overall, I think they missed the mark here, which is a shame because I also think it could have been done well, if they’d been bolder and darker and more thoughtful.

Why might this happen? Why might the show take this approach? Why might it be latched onto by viewers? Personally, I think the conversations we have about women and power are very simplistic, which leaves us in a tight spot when we see women seizing power for themselves (even in fiction) and weaponising that against others, not just other women but people of all genders, because we struggle to move past ‘women have overall been denied power, so them taking it ‘back’ is good,’ even if that immediately becomes a hot mess of white, corporate feminism and results in the ongoing oppression of many people. I think we are so hungry for representations of powerful women that we – producers and viewers alike – struggle to see them as bad, because it’s uncomfortable to be so intoxicated by Mrs Coulter effortlessly dominating the men around her, subverting systems designed to marginalise her for her own benefit, and generally being aggressive and intelligent and ruthless, and then realise that you are entranced by someone who is, objectively, a terrible, terrible person. It can be hard to realise that if you channelled the energy of someone who mesmerises you, you’d be the villain. So instead of sitting with that (more on this below), a lot of legwork goes into reworking her villainy into, somehow, a just act, a result of oppression, as her taking back power that has been denied to her, rather than grappling with the fact that for anyone to desire power in such a merciless way, even if they have to overcome marginalisation to get it, is really, really dangerous.

The joy, of course, is that Mrs Coulter is not real! She’s not real! Adoring fictional characters does not mean condoning their (imaginary) decisions, nor do stories exist for each person in them to fit neatly into a good or bad box so you know who you’re allowed to love. Furthermore, fiction can be a fabulous tool for exploring and interrogating the parts of yourself that, if left to bloom unexamined, might perpetuate beliefs or behaviour that cause harm to others. Mrs Coulter doesn’t need to be a feminist or taking down the patriarchy or a righteous powerful woman to illuminate things about gender, power and feminism for those reading and watching. In fact, it’s important that we explore what happens when women (most commonly white, wealthy women, as she is) continue to perpetuate brutal systems under the guise of sticking it to ‘men,’ because it happens all the time in the real world, and it’s a serious issue. Finding characters like Mrs Coulter so cool and compelling doesn’t make you a bad person, but it might tell you something about yourself – not that you want to be a villain or kill kids or whatever, but something about how you relate to your gender or women or men or power – and that knowledge can be useful! We all have better and worse impulses, and finding art that helps us make sense of ourselves, both the good and bad parts, is a gift that we should relish.

Anyway, tl;dr, Mrs Coulter doesn’t need to be sympathetic or understandable or redeemable to be brilliant – but you wouldn’t know that from how she’s been portrayed in the new adaptation.

#his dark materials #marisa coulter #my analysis #this might be controversial idk #more thoughts that no one asked for #hdm meta

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danidrabbles · 3 years

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Cowboy Like Me - Part One

Story Summary: HERE.

Chapter Summary: Three months after your arrival at Statesman’s Kentucky department, Jack and yourself are sent out on your first assignment together. You find out you didn’t know your partner as well as you thought you did, while Jack is forced to confront the decisions he made one year prior.

Rating: M ......for now.

Word Count: 11.2k (I know...) (also, the irony of this blog being named danidrabbles vs. this word count is not lost on me, trust me)

Warnings: Language, canon-typical violence (mentions and use of weapons, mentions of death and murder), alcohol, innuendo but no smut, feeeelings, way too many creative liberties with / assumptions about the art world - I think that’s it, but please let me know if I missed anything!

Notes: Absolutely terrifying to share my child in fanfic form with the world, but here we are... This story (even this first chapter) has known many versions, but this final one would not have been here if it hadn’t been for Astrid @javier-pena, who quite literally dragged me through this with her constant encouragement and unlimited enthusiasm. Please read her wonderful Mandalorian fic ‘The Hunt’. Astrid, I’m tipping my imaginary cowboy hat down to say that I can’t thank you enough, darlin’. I also want to mention @frannyzooey and @jura-moon who, with their stories, have inspired me endlessly and relit the writing flame within me that had gone out. Thank you!

PART ONE: LONDON.

“No, wait,” you whisper, and you hold two fingers up to emphasise your words.

“Wasn’t gonna do anything,” Jack hisses back.

The two of you are taking cover behind a broad column, face to face to fit the space together. The footsteps to your side stop, and then there’s the sound of hushed voices, too soft to make out what they’re saying. There are five of them, that much you know, all equipped with a gun.

You nod down at the hand resting on the holster under his arm, raising an eyebrow. “Sure.”

“Not yet,” he clarifies with a sigh. “But hiding here ain’t it… Eventually, it’s only gonna expose us more.”

“We’ve got to wait,” you say. “Listen, they’re eager, right? They’ll come to us, and if we wait for them to come to us, we can take them out in close quarters instead of at long range.” Your head perks up at the soft sounds coming from the other side of the room.

“That’d be a perfect idea if you had your little knives and I had my whip, but we gotta take ‘em out with these,” he reminds you, holding his gun up for you to see. “Remember?”

You sigh, palming the gun still sheathed in the holster on your hip. He’s right, you acknowledge with a nod, it is different without your weapons of choice. “What about visibility?”

Above you, there’s a light flickering on and off, colouring your surroundings in bright red at steady intervals, forcing your eyes to refocus every time colour bleeds back into the room.

“Think it’s a disadvantage for all of us,” he provides.

The sound of footsteps is back, this time almost rhythmical, on your left and right. “They’re probably splitting up,” you whisper, listening again before you add, “Three on the left, two on the right? Maybe?”

He listens, too. “Sounds about right.” Then, he grins. “How ‘bout a little competition, hmm? First one to take out three wins.”

Your face falls and you manage a sharp, “Jack, no,” but shit— He’s already rounding the corner. You have no choice but to come out of hiding to cover him, following only a second after he emerges from behind the column. The sight of the both of you, guns raised, fills the room with silence, until Jack fires a warning shot, which makes the footsteps turn frantic. There’s a sound to your left, and you turn, quickly firing at one of your assailants who has their gun pointed at Jack’s back, hitting them right in the chest.

Jack’s head whips around in surprise. “Thank you, darlin’,” he says, an appreciative smile apparent in-between the flickers of light. “But that one was on my side, so that makes the score one to zero in my favor.”

“All I heard was, ‘First one to take out three wins’, nothing about sides,” you counter. “Which would make it one to zero in my favor.”

“Hmm,” is all he says, and it sounds far too amused.

“What’s that?”

“S’nothing, I just… knew you’d play along if I made you.”

You roll your eyes at his remark, then refocus, scanning your surroundings. There’s crates, columns, some furniture; plenty of places to obscure you from view. You can’t see a thing during the little intervals where the lights aren’t on and it makes you feel dazed, like you’re moving in slow-motion. There’s also no footsteps, so you decide that forcing everyone to the back of the room by checking the hiding places is probably the best course of action, as it will eventually leave them cornered, easier targets. Turning to convey your plans to your partner, you find him gone from your side.

Then there’s a grunt, and a thud, and then Jack’s voice echoes through the room, “One-one.”

Before you can even think of replying, a shot flies over your shoulder, and you dive behind a large crate. You look over the top with narrow eyes, spotting someone hanging from the ceiling. It’s a smart move in theory, but only if you don’t miss; it draws attention, reveals your position. You wait, and when no shot follows, you look over the crate again, seeing the person who just shot at you struggle with their weapon.

You raise your gun, take your aim and hit them in the chest at the exact same moment as the room lights up. Another shot rings out behind you, followed by a groan, and you immediately turn towards the sound. You find Jack standing there, looking far too proud and with a body slung over one of the chairs behind you.

“Thought I’d return the favor and make things exciting,” he says. “That’s two-to-two.”

You offer him a short, fake smile, then move through the room with him. It’s nearly impossible, with Jack wedging himself into your path to be the first to check your corners on account of the current score, and after some frantic shuffling from your target, and some missed shots from you and Jack, there’s only one spot left. You will yourself to focus on the far corner of the room, cross stepping closer and closer with Jack hot on your heels.

“You’re paying attention, right?” Jack says, picking up his step again until he’s slightly ahead of you. You can see the grin on his face form between the flickers of the lights overhead. “’‘Cause I would just hate for you to lose, doll.”

God, you hadn’t even agreed to participate in this pointless bet, but you can’t help but think about how satisfying it would be to wipe that grin right off his face when you win…

Suddenly there’s a shuffle from behind the couch in front of you, followed by a click, and it makes you both duck just before two shots come your way in quick succession. Jack’s hand closes over your upper arm, dragging you behind the fallen table he’s found cover behind, and you’re both silent for a second to listen to more shuffling from your target’s hiding place, followed by two more shots.

“Looks like we’ve successfully trapped our rat in the corner,” Jack says, voice low.

You nod. “Okay, I’ll go, you c—”

“Oh, hell no.” Jack chuckles softly. “Nice try, but I ain’t handin’ you the victory on a silver platter like that.”

Your shoulders drop with a sigh, “You know I don’t actually care about this bet, right? Just need you to cover me.”

He makes a face, then pulls another 10-bullet magazine from the clip around his waist as he thinks. After sliding it into place and pulling his hand back overtop the weapon, a tick confirms the reloading of his gun, and he gives you a quick nod.

“I’m going to need verbal confir—”

“Just fuckin’ go. I’ll cover you.”

Before he can change his mind, or do something decidedly Jack-ish, you step over his body, staying low, as you sneak out of hiding on the opposite side of the table during a moment where the room is covered in darkness. Behind you, you hear Jack mutter a soft curse before he begins shooting in the general direction of where the shots had originated earlier.

You approach carefully, operating out of sight. When you’re close enough, you press your back up against the nearest column. Quickly checking your gun between the flickering lights, you nod to yourself, then hold it close to you as you start to count when your distracted opponent fires back at Jack.

One, two, three…

four, five…

six.

Bingo.

You approach the couch, pointing your gun over it. The man behind it immediately raises his own weapon at you, aims for your chest and fires, but all that follows is a soft click, accompanied by a look of horror on his face at the realization he’s emptied his magazine.

In the split-second you contemplate your options, the bet entering your thoughts again, Jack comes up to stand beside you. You take him in from the corner of your eye. He’s not looking at you but has his gun still firmly held in both hands. When you turn slightly to look up at him, your eyes meet, and you’re sure that in that moment, the exact same thought crosses your minds at the exact same time. You both point your gun down and pull the trigger.

It’s impossible to tell who lands the kill shot in the end.

Jack scoffs, hands dropping to his sides with a shake of his head. “Christ, you liar.”

You’re about to retort when you hear it: a click behind you.

The realization makes your eyes widen, but it’s too late. You hear the shot before you feel it, and it lands right in the middle of your back, making you wobble. Next to you, Jack huffs, hand landing on the back of the couch at the pressure that he’s no doubt also feeling at his back.

It’s silent for what feels like the longest time, save for the heavy breathing behind the two of you. Until…

“You’re out, agents.” Ginger’s voice crackles over the intercom.

The lights flicker on in the room, bright and almost yellow, and the loud buzzer that rings through the practice space indicates the end of training. Around you, everyone rises up from their fake-deaths. They gather around, shrugging out of their protective clothes and celebrating their win, congratulating the last woman standing as they make their way to the exit.

“What the hell, Ginger!” You shout. “You said there were five!”

There’s a soft noise coming through the intercom, before Ginger’s voice is back, “Here’s a refresher: Always verify the information you get, don’t just blindly follow it.”

“Oh, come on…”

Next to you, Jack pulls the magazine of practice bullets from his gun before he holsters it. “It’s not like it really matters,” he says.

“We were just taken out by the recruits,” you scoff. “It matters.”

Meanwhile, your mind is already racing, going over the details of the training, thinking on where you went wrong, but it’s a short contemplation because Ginger is right: You should have confirmed your targets before running out in the open and exposing yourself, have a better plan... Which reminds you—

“Hey,” you say, drawing Jack’s attention again. “Next time I would appreciate a little heads up if you’re going to disappear on me like that,” you say, jabbing your thumb over your shoulder. “I mean, if I can’t even trust you during training, how am I supposed to trust you when we get back out there?”

His eyes narrow and it’s like he’s about to say something, then thinks better of it and turns away from you. “We ain’t going anywhere anytime soon anyway.” His voice is stained with spite and immediately after he says it, he starts making his way towards the exit.

You huff as you pull at the velcro straps to get the vest off your body and drop it into the container with the rest of the protective clothes next to the door, before following after him.

He isn’t wrong, per se. You don’t know about the details because it seems to be a sensitive topic judging from the one time you brought it up, but Jack had been put on non-active months ago after a mission in Cambodia and hasn’t been sent out by Statesman since. After a bit of an unconventional first meeting between the two of you, Champ, the head of Statesman, had decided that partnering you two up would be a good idea. Truthfully, it made sense; Jack’s a senior agent who needs to be eased back into things, you’re a junior agent who could learn from him while you could keep him reined in.

But it’s been three months since and you still haven’t been sent out on a mission, and it isn’t how you envisioned your transfer to this division of Statesman to be.

You imagined high-stakes missions, traveling the world, learning from the best—

Okay, maybe that last part had worked out.

Truth be told, Jack had proven himself a very capable agent from the very moment you met, but it didn’t really sink in until one of your first training sessions, when you discovered Jack insisted on carrying around a lasso and whip on top of this Statesman issued gun. You laughed it off at first, thinking it was just part of his cowboy-like fashion sense. Then he opted to practice his lasso skills on you, betting he could catch you with it in under a minute. Figuring it would take him more than a minute to even find you in the large training space, you agreed. In hindsight, the smirk on his face when he asked should have been enough for you to realize your mistake right away. He found you, got the rope looped around your body, and, rather indignantly, forced you to the ground; all in under 36 seconds.

It wasn’t until after, when the rope was looped around a rubber target dummy, that he showed you the lasso could turn electric…

You continued your sessions together, learning to anticipate each other’s moves, play off of them to use it against your opponent; getting a routine down and using the training time to prepare for your missions. But there’s only so much preparing you can do, especially with someone who is as much of a wildcard as Jack, someone who often makes his own plan. But the missions never came, causing Jack to become somewhat of a ticking time bomb, closer to exploding with each passing day that you weren’t sent out. You’re sure Champ has noticed by now, but still, he insists on having you train together more. And, on occasion, that means playing target practice for the new Statesman recruits.

“Being taken out by the recruits isn’t going to improve our chances, you know.” You jog after him until you’re walking next to him.

“That mean we should just take it?” Jack asks, manoeuvring through the corridors back to the main building, bumping your shoulder occasionally.

“Whatever happened to, ‘You know me darlin’, I’m always jumpin’ at the chance to pencil in a little extra training time with you’?” you manage in your best impression of his voice to echo the words he said before the two of you entered the training space earlier.

“I changed my mind and thought of something better, that’s what happened,” he says, looking at you before gesturing between the two of you. “Us two, puttin’ all our hard work to good use out there in the field. And I don’t mean any funny business.”

“Hmm, yeah, no, exactly, ‘cause we don’t practice that kind of stuff.”

You set it up for him, and you have a feeling he knows but can’t help himself. One corner of his mouth turns up, and you consider the slight change in his demeanour a small victory.

“But we could.”

You chuckle, open your mouth to reply—

“I know, I know.” He grins, before you can say anything. “Just puttin’ it out there, lest you forget.”

He stops walking, so you do as well, standing next to him and leaning against the wall as to not obstruct the hallway. He turns towards you and for a moment you just look at him as he sighs and combs his fingers through his hair while the furrow returns to his brow. “But… Christ, don’t you wanna get back out there?”

“Of course I do,” you say with a sigh. “At this rate that recruit dangling from the ceiling is going to get a mission before we do.”

“See! That’s what I’m talking about, partner.” He leans in, lowers his voice like he’s about to tell you a secret, “I say we—”

“Hey, Whiskey!” The exclamation echoes through the hall, followed by your own code name. Both your heads perk up at the sound, finding one of the recruits at the end of the hall. “Ginger’s asking for you two!”

Ginger Ale’s promotion to handler meant that she was able to enjoy a lot more of Statesman’s luxuries, including her own office. As you walk in, you can’t help but notice how nice it is: It is spacious, but modest with the way she has decorated it, has a gorgeous view and is full of the latest tech; it is exactly what she deserves.

You’ve gotten to know her well during the past few months. She is intelligent and resourceful, warm and encouraging. Her work is thorough and precise; she cares a great deal about the details of a mission, and you have no doubt that you could always trust her if she were to ever guide you through one.

But training is another story, apparently…

“I’m not accepting any repercussions for that training,” you say the moment you spot her by the window.

Ginger chuckles at that, and it sounds unlike her, like she’s nervous. It’s almost as intriguing as the next words she speaks, “Then I guess it’s a good thing I didn’t call you in here for that. Why don’t you have a seat?”

You shoot a quick glance at Jack, who looks equally responsive despite his silence; lips pursed, an eyebrow cocked. He strides towards her desk to take her up on her invitation, and sits down in one of the two chairs opposite her workspace. You follow quickly, taking a seat in the empty chair beside him, looking up at Ginger as she makes her way to the see-through screen on her desk.

Ginger taps the screen twice, and it lights up. It’s full of pictures of the same man, all taken on different occasions. He’s slender, mid-40s, you’d guess, with a pair of round glasses perched on his nose and has blond, wild hair, some of it missing on the top of his head.

“Nathaniel Jones,” Jack says, leaning in to take a closer look at the pictures. “Nathan resurfaced?”

“Yes,” Ginger says.

“I’m sorry, um, who is Nathan?” you ask, looking from Jack to Ginger and back.

“He’s an art thief,” Ginger answers.

“Not just an art thief, he’s one of the best, even wanted by the good folks at Interpol,” Jack corrects, turning to you. “Steals pieces all over the world and replaces ‘em with fakes, good fakes, then sells ‘em. They even suspect him of stealin’ an ancient Chinese gu from an exhibition in Nanjing, which he kept for his own personal collection. Think he might be capable of puttin’ the Gardner Museum theft to shame someday…” He trails off.

You nod, not entirely sure what that means, but you’re sure it would be an impressive feat. And Jack would know. While he’s been on non-active, Jack has taken up a new hobby: art history. You didn’t think he’d be the man for it, but apparently when Jack sets his sights on something, he goes a little hard, and if the many times he’s threatened to ‘leave the agency and live off that sweet, sweet art appraiser salary’ are anything to go by, he is quite good.

“However, no one has been able to catch him. He leaves no physical evidence, but he always allows himself to be photographed, as you can see,” Ginger says, gesturing towards the screen.

“Show off,” Jack scoffs. “Where did they spot him?”

“London,” Ginger replies, tapping the screen again to reveal an aerial map of the city centre, two red dots corresponding with some of the pictures she’s shown you earlier. “There’s a big auction coming up and he’s expected to strike.”

Suddenly, her words are kicking in. Nathan is like.. he is kind of like a target, isn’t he? And he was spotted in London… Expected to attend an event where he could get caught...

“Ginger, are you—are you saying what I think you’re saying? You’re sending us on a mission?”

“Yes and no. It’s…” Ginger hesitates, eyes flickering to Jack quickly, then continues, “It’s a mission, but it’s not our mission. It’s… It’s at the request of Kingsman.”

But it’s a mission. A real mission, in London. And it's perfect. With Jack's art expertise and both your skills as agents, you’re sure you’d be an excellent addition to the Kingsman team for this mission. A mission. Finally—

“We ain’t goin’.”

—and then Jack says that. His voice is low and dead serious, lacking any hint of sarcasm. “You know I’m not fucking doing that.”

It takes you completely by surprise, and you whip your head around to him so quickly that the muscles in your neck protest. "What?"

He ignores the question, stares straight at Ginger. Something is seriously wrong. He’s tense, maybe even more than you’ve ever seen him. It’s in the way his jaw twitches, and how he’s gripping the arms of the chair, but most of all in his eyes; it’s something you can’t place.

“They just need someone who can look at the pieces they have at the auction house, to authenticate and appraise them before the auction,” Ginger says, “and an extra couple eyes to do surveillance during the auction.”

"You should send someone else, ‘cause I ain't doin’ it."

Ginger sighs. “You think I would ask this of you if there was someone else who could do it?”

“Come on, Ginger,” Jack laughs bitterly, a thumb coming up to swipe at his bottom lip. “No art appraisers available in London?”

“You know they can't just get a civilian in on this.” Ginger sounds frustrated now.

"Well, it’s what Kingsman is gonna have to do."

You raise a brow at the way he snarls at the word ‘Kingsman’. So that’s what this is about. “Okay,” you begin, speaking in the kindest, most understanding tone you can manage as you turn towards your incredibly stubborn partner. “Okay, clearly there’s something going on here, with - with the Kingsman, right? But maybe by going there you can…,” you gesture with your hands to find the right words, “work it out?”

He seems to consider this, lips pursing further, not looking at either you or Ginger, and after some moments of quiet contemplation, he begins to sit up. “Hypothetically — and by that I do mean hypothetically — if I were to agree… Do they even know I’m the one comin’ to consult?”

“Jack—”

“It’s a simple question,” Jack interrupts, voice slightly raised. “Yes or no?”

You give Ginger a hopeful look, but her silence says enough.

Jack lifts himself out of the chair, drawing the same conclusion. “Then there’s no chance in hell.”

"Well, do I get a say in this at all?" Your voice comes out angrier than you intended, but it’s fitting. You are angry. Angry that he’s making decisions without you again, angry that he would blow this chance for the both of you after he hasn’t shut up about how he wants to get sent out on a mission.

"Not in this one,” Jack all but barks at you.

You rise up from your chair. “Excuse me?”

“Sorry, doll, but I’m not going all the way to London to help Kingsman as some sort of… last hurray before we're back to bein’ fucking… practice bait for the recruits!" Rounding the chair, Jack makes his way to the doors to Ginger’s office.

You're about to go after him, demand he tell you what the fuck the big deal with Kingsman even is, when Ginger speaks,

"What if it isn't one last hurray?"

Jack keeps walking. “Don’t bother.”

“If you go, I can talk to Champ about sending you out on more assignments.”

Now that makes Jack stop in his tracks. He doesn’t quite turn around yet, his back is still to Ginger and yourself, but he does angle his head to the side to indicate he heard her. It’s something. You can feel your anger simmering down and your heartbeat picking up; hopeful at Jack’s hesitance, giddy at the prospect of more missions. “And all I have to do is look at the pieces?” His voice is barely any louder than a whisper.

“Look at the pieces, authenticate and appraise them, surveillance,” Ginger summarises. “That’s it.”

His hands find his hips with a sigh, and he tips his head down. He stays like that, oh so still… “Tell them I’ll do it,” he says, “but not because I want to.” Then he pushes the door open and walks away.

“So…” You draw the word out before clicking your tongue.

You’re sitting across from Jack on the jet, still a long way from London. Ginger has arranged for one pretty much right away. Once you’ve gotten over your initial, dazzling impression of the jet – it is enormous, far too much for just two people, with a literal pool table in the middle and a fucking bar with two doors next to it that lead to the sleeping compartments – you begin quietly observing him.

He hasn’t spoken a word since you left Kentucky and, if anything, he seems to get more miserable the closer you get to your destination. The longer you see him like this, the more your enthusiasm for the mission cools, and the more you actually start to get worried this is a bad idea after all.

You have waited as long as your curiosity, and the tension, allow for it, but given the explosive start of this whole thing, you’re certain you have to know the apparent history between him and Kingsman. You’ve tried asking Ginger, as she certainly knows more about it, but she insisted it wasn’t her place to tell you. So, really, you have no choice but to bring it up now.

“When are you going to tell me what the deal is with you and Kingsman?”

“Nothin’ for you to worry about,” comes his instant reply, clearly having anticipated your question. He’s got one hand cupped along his jaw to support his head so he can stare out the small circular window, while his shoulders, judging from his posture and the expression on his face, are currently supporting the weight of the world. “It’s all gonna be just fine.”

You scoff. “Please. I’ve known you for some time now, I’ve seen you in a lot of moods, but I’ve never seen you sulk, and…,” you gesture towards him, slumped back in his seat as he is, “…you’re sulking, Jack. Clearly there’s a good reason for that.”

He sits up at your remark, adjusts his hat, then pinches the bridge of his nose, giving you a clear sign that he doesn’t want to have this conversation – at all, but especially right now. You give him a few more seconds, but when it’s clear he isn’t going to speak, you try another direction.

“Is it um, is it about Cambodia?” you gently pry.

“Woman, can’t you take a hint?” he grunts. “Or do you just like getting a rise outta me?”

“I’m not asking just because I’m curious what can get such a rise out of you,” you say. “This is an assignment, technically it’s our first official one - the bank doesn’t count,” you add quickly. “And I would just like to be a little more prepared than last time.”

“The bank counts.”

“We didn’t even know—”

“The bank counts,” he repeats, and he probably thinks he’s being oh so funny and clever right now, focussing in on your mention of your first meeting like he isn’t doing it just to try to change the subject.

“I want to know what I’m about to walk into, Jack,” you say sharply.

“We all want things, darlin’,” he says with a sigh, getting up from his seat. “I for one would like ya to stop bringin’ this up.” And then he walks off to quite possibly the only place he can escape to right now, announcing, “I’m gonna hit the hay.”

“Sooner or later I will find out about it, you know that, right?” you call after him, your final attempt to make him just tell you what happened.

He hesitates – it's brief, but he does, a slight change in his step, a twitch of his upper arm. But he doesn’t stop, leaving you to watch as he slips through one of the doors next to the bar and disappears out of sight.

You will yourself to keep working and wait for him to return, thumbing through the thick files Ginger sent along. But as more time passes, the letters begin to dance in front of your eyes and your eyelids get heavy with sleep. Had this seat been this comfortable before? Your body sags into the leather and you allow your thoughts to drift away from your partner’s mysterious history with Kingsman. After all, you think, naively, trying to justify letting the sleep overtake you, if Jack has decided to accept the assignment, how bad could it really be?

Okay. So. Turns out it could be really bad.

After touching down in London, you’d been escorted straight to the auction house, where Agents Galahad Sr. and Galahad Jr. would meet up with you. Jack had been fidgety the whole ride, leg bouncing as he resorted back to gazing out the window. You don’t know how long he had locked himself away for on the jet, but when you’d woken up, he was back in his seat across from you, case files in his lap but fast asleep, or doing a pretty good job pretending. After arriving, you entered through the sliding glass doors, and spotted two men, both sharply dressed. One was a bit older than the other, and the older one wore a pair of glasses that left one eye obscured from view. The older man had barely taken your hand in his to introduce himself, when his colleague spotted Jack, and all hell had broken loose.

Currently, you and the man you now know as Harry, if all the frantic yelling from the other agent is anything to go by, are forced to settle what has become a standoff between Jack and Harry’s colleague. They’re standing across from each other, weapons pointed at each other after Harry’s colleague aimed his at Jack, to which Jack pulled his own gun from its holster and pointed it at the other man.

“What the fuck is this, Harry? What is he doing here?”

There’s something about his tone that confirms beyond his actions that he’s more than furious. You feel a flush creep up your neck in response to the situation you find yourself in; you feel embarrassed that you have no idea what’s going on.

“Eggsy,” Harry says. “There’s no need for theatrics.”

“He’s right. Jack, put the gun away,” you say.

“Like hell – I’ll put my gun away when he puts his gun away,” Jack answers, his eyes never leaving Eggsy’s hands.

“I— Me? I should put my gun away?” Eggsy scoffs. “I’m not even puttin’ my gun down around you. Last time you pulled a gun on me, you tried to kill me—” He looks at Harry, “You tried to kill us.”

Jack sighs. “Listen, things are different now—”

He’s saying more after that, but all that you’re hearing is that he isn’t denying it, and it replaces the flush from earlier with goosebumps that break out all over your body. That’s why he didn’t want to come here. Jack, your partner Jack, had attempted to kill two Kingsman agents.

“Why are you so calm about this, Harry?” Eggsy’s voice comes out strained, and it almost sounds like a plea.

“Agent Galahad,” Harry says sharply. “You know we can’t let our personal feelings get in the way. I simply think we should give Agent Whiskey a chance to do the job he came here to do.”

“Yes,” you blurt out. “I swear, that’s all we came here to do; do the appraisal and help with the surveillance later. After that, we’ll be out of your hair.”

Eggsy looks from you to Harry and back, gripping the gun so hard it shakes, then lowers it with a sigh. “You better.” He turns his attention back to Jack. “Or I swear, I’m gonna put so many fuckin’ bullets in you that no amount of Alpha-Gel can fix it. You got that?”

“Loud and clear.”

You heave a sigh of relief when the men holster their weapons, and as if knowing exactly when to appear, the auction house assistant enters the room, blissfully oblivious to what she had just missed out on.

Her accent is posh, especially compared to Eggsy’s, when she says, “I see everyone has arrived. Shall we?”

As she leads you to the room where the paintings are being kept, the auction house assistant informs you about them. They’re all part of a week-long event, an auction to help out up and coming artists. It’s all information you already know from the preliminary work you did for this assignment. What you don’t know is that artists usually make little to nothing from their art being sold at auction houses, but that this auction has a scoop: The artists will receive royalties from works sold on the secondary market. The works up for auction tomorrow are among the most anticipated, and they’re expected to sell at a high price. And even though you’re no art expert, you can certainly see why when the assistant leads you into the room where the works are stored.

The white walls are adorned with paintings of the most beautiful artworks. They’re all landscapes -– cherry blossom by a lake, a cave lit in a way that could be described as enchanting, a waterfall between oddly shaped high rocks, a lavender field at sundown. But they’re painted in a way unlike anything you’ve ever seen on account of the dazzling colours and unusual brush strokes. It instantly makes you want to look closer; it makes you want to touch, flit your fingers over the bumps of dried paint – an instinct you obviously don’t act upon, but you want to. It’s bitter to imagine how such stunning works would not have benefitted the artist if it would be sold at another auction house…

Jack looks equally impressed, whistling as he looks around the room before he gets to work. As he does, you watch curiously, from a distance as not to disturb him – Eggsy’s leaning against the wall next to him, much less subtle about his observant role. While you watch, you take note of the care Jack is putting into his work right now, unusually patient in his methods, evident in the way the gloved tips of his fingers brush along the canvasses, how he uses his pocket magnifying glass to inspect the painting from top to bottom, and the soft tone he uses with the assistant. It’s the kind of stuff you’ve never really been able to see him do, you realize, so different from all the tactical training you went through the past few months.

By the time he’s nearly done, you’re deep in conversation with Harry. He’s polite and to the point, with a rich voice and a kind laugh. And clearly, he’s no fool. You had struck up the conversation in hopes of prying some information out of him about Jack’s history with Kingsman, but Harry changes the subject each time you try, focusing back on the “extraordinary artwork”. It’s like the universe is conspiring against you, waiting to drop the other shoe at the right moment – or maybe these agents are just too well trained…

“That fuckin’…” Lost in thought as you are, you’re startled when you suddenly hear Jack’s voice sail through the room. “We’ve got a problem,” he declares, rounding the corner, coming back into view with Eggsy hot on his heels. He’s striding over with large steps as he plucks the latex gloves off his hands, and the concern on his face is apparent; his lips are pressed together in a thin line and his brows are furrowed. He comes to a halt in front of Harry and yourself, his fingers brushing along his chin before he explains himself, “So, all of ‘em are exactly as I expected ‘em, right? Until I get to the last one, inspect the brushstrokes and… something don’t add up. I think he’s already made the switch.”

Jack’s unexpected discovery at the auction house had led to a small crisis. From Eggsy, who demanded to know how Jack was so sure and if he wasn’t aiding a wanted criminal again. And from the auction house personnel, who started a frantic investigation into how someone could have gotten in and out of the secured room. It was a mystery that was quickly solved when they pulled up the security footage from last night, which showed Nathan, dressed as someone from the cleaning crew, rounding the corner where the switched artwork was located with a cleaning cart, and reappeared with it moments later.

No one expected Nathan to strike before the auction; the thief usually operates in plain sight during the events he targets. It forced Harry, Eggsy, Jack and yourself to rethink your strategy, and you had agreed to meet up early next morning to come up with a new plan. The stiff goodbyes you’d shared with the Kingsman agents served as a cold reminder of how you’d arrived here.

And even now, as you’re lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, it’s an unpleasant feeling you can’t shake, a feeling that’s keeping you from sleeping more than the jetlag. Before you can think any better of it, you’re up, through the door, walking down the hallway, and knocking on Jack’s hotel room door. He opens almost immediately, and that, combined with the way he’s still dressed in yesterday’s clothes and is doing a poor job of hiding the half-empty whiskey bottle on the dresser behind him, leads you to believe he hasn’t slept a wink, either.

“Hi,” you say, brushing past him and into the room.

“You know,” he says as he closes the door, a slight slur in his voice apparent. “This isn’t how I imagined it.”

The comment throws you off. “This isn’t how you imagined what?” you ask with a frown.

He gestures towards you. “You, barging into my hotel room.”

“I—”

“Usually less clothes involved,” he interrupts with a chuckle as he walks toward the dresser and plucks the bottle off of there.

“Yeah, well…” you look down at yourself, at your sweatpants, the soft dark blue T-shirt you’re wearing, “I’m sorry this isn’t doing it for you, Jack.”

He looks up at you, cocks his head with a grin. “Oh, I didn’t say that, darlin’.”

You sigh. You’re used to this endless back and forth, the pet names, it’s what Jack does with everyone, but you’re no longer in the mood to play into his little game. “I’m not here to get you into bed, Jack.”

“Good,” he says, and he doesn’t miss a beat when he adds, “in my dreams we don’t make it to—”

“I’m here to give you one final chance to tell me what happened between you and Kingsman,” you say with a raised voice before he’s even finished.

He makes his way over to a glass table by the window where his tumbler is waiting for him, and he pours it half-full. “And what if I don’t?” he asks.

You take a deep breath. You don’t want to give him the chance to derail the conversation by hiding behind his wit. Or walking away. You’re serious, this is serious, and you want him to know it is. “If you don’t, then that means I can’t trust you.” This time, it’s you who doesn’t miss a beat when you add, “and Jack, if I can’t trust you, I can’t be your partner.” Maybe it’s a weak threat, but it’s the truth. This is your first mission together and he’s already keeping things from you. How could a partnership possibly work like this?

You’re surprised when he doesn’t immediately have a smart retort for you. Instead, your words make him freeze, and if you didn’t know better you swear it makes him sober up. You know that he can tell you’re not kidding around, can practically see the cogs turning in his head in what you assume is him making a quick list of pros and cons. After some time, he reaches for a second glass, pouring two fingers before simply asking, “Drink?”

“Depends.”

He thrusts the glass in your direction. “Take the drink and sit down.” He gestures towards one of the leather chairs next to the table, but you stand your ground, looking at his extended arm but not taking the drink from his hand. “Please,” he says, and with the way his voice slightly goes up at the end, it’s almost a question.

You can’t help but raise an eyebrow at that, and your legs are walking you towards him before you’ve even really accepted his invitation. You take the glass from him and plop down in the chair with a huff. You still can’t really tell if he’s serious, so you wait for him to speak.

Jack brings the glass to his mouth, throwing its contents back with one big gulp before refilling it and taking a seat himself. His hand moves up to his face, two fingers rubbing along his moustache as he looks at you and gnaws at his lip. “I erm— It’s not—” Then he averts his gaze, and after a beat of silence he settles on, “It’s a long story, though.”

You’re taken aback, not used to seeing him like this. You’ve gotten to know Jack as charming, confident, cool, but while he is stuttering out his reply, the flush in his neck creeps up to his face, and his shell seems to be cracking. He is flustered, maybe even anxious, and you have a feeling that he’s not exaggerating when he says that it’s a long story.

You nip at your drink, the oaky taste with hints of vanilla settling pleasantly in your mouth before burning down your throat. “I have plenty of time to listen.”

And so you do. You listen to him explain how Kingman and Statesman worked together to stop Poppy Adams and take down her toxic drug empire. But that, somewhere along the mission, his personal feelings got in the way. After purposefully breaking a vial of the antidote they’d stolen from one of Poppy’s facilities on Mont Blanc, he had been shot in the head by Harry, who suspected him of being a traitor. Luckily, Eggsy had reacted quickly by using Alpha-Gel, effectively saving his life. (“Even got the battle scars to prove it,” he says, pointing at the scar on the side of his face). The next thing he remembered was waking up in Kentucky, where Ginger brought his memory back. He followed the Kingsman agents to Poppy’s hideout in Cambodia, where he nearly kept them from releasing the antidote worldwide, before they overpowered him and brought him back to the States in cuffs. Naturally, he was suspended indefinitely.

Throughout his story, you’re dead silent, hanging onto his every word as you sip your drink.

“Guess I kept this from you for so long ‘cause… I didn’t want this partnership to end before it properly began. But with you comin’ in here at two in the mornin’, demandin’ to know the truth or else, I figured…” He pauses with a sigh, face twisting into a something you can’t quite place. “Damned if I do, damned if I don’t.”

Your brain is failing to process all this information at once, and Jack takes your silence as a prompt to continue,

“And I hate it. ‘Cause for the first time in a long time, I was havin’ some fun again.” He nods at his own statement, then looks up at you, his eyes searching your face. “When we were training together and you picked up on everything I was doin’… You anticipatin’ all my moves made me wanna anticipate all o’your moves, to become attuned to you and your…your stupid little knives.” His smile falters, and there’s that look again. “I mean, we’re a good team, aren't we?”

Jack’s always chatty, but the way he’s talking right now he’s being downright loquacious. It’s probably on account of the whiskey, but it still makes you choose your words carefully, unable to be as blunt or demanding as you were earlier. “All of that training stuff,” you begin, “I think it means nothing if we can’t be honest with each other.” You pause, so your words can really land with him, before asking, “Can I trust you to do that?”

“After all that, can you trust me to do that?” He’s making that face again, and the flush on his cheeks is back and—

Oh.

You completely forget about his question because suddenly you can place the look on his face: He’s ashamed.

He’s ashamed and he thinks you’ll see him differently from this point on and that that’s why— Wait. Do you? The weight of his story is starting to catch up to you. Because holy shit, the Poppy Adams situation last year was intense. You remember the TV broadcastings, the utter chaos across the globe, but nothing about Cambodia that could have made you connect the dots previously. Had Jack succeeded when he went after Harry and Eggsy to stop them from releasing the antidote, millions of people would have died – literally millions. Which— Yeah, that’s a lot to process. Your partner almost played a key part in allowing that to happen…

Almost.

Because here he is, all the tell-tale signs of shame suddenly apparent; the way he’s turned away from you, how his eyes keep darting away from yours, the red splotches on his neck, his quivering Adam’s apple. However, you also know that feeling ashamed isn’t the same as feeling guilty. You can feel ashamed over something that you’ve done, freeze and feel your gut twist at the memory, but still feel like it was a necessary evil. Does he feel any remorse for what he’s done? Just like that, there’s only one thing that really matters, that you need to know.

“Do you regret it?” you ask. He’s silent, and as you watch his finger trace the rim of his glass with a frown, you can tell that wasn’t what he was expecting, so you elaborate, “Cambodia, I mean.”

It makes his frown ease up. “All the time.”

You can feel yourself sag into the leather in relief before taking another swig from your glass. The whiskey seems to make you lose-lipped as well, because before you can really debate if you should push this any further right now, you’re firing another question at him. “Then why did you do it?”

It doesn’t sound accusatory – or you don’t mean it that way, at least. It’s simply curious, but it still makes Jack twitch, the liquid in his glass sloshing around with it. And as flushed as he was before on account of his candour and the alcohol, your question seems to drain all the colour from his cheeks.

“No, don’t—” He cuts himself off and grimaces at his own sharp tone, quickly correcting himself to something softer, “I think that’s enough story time for tonight, alright?”

It’s not enough, not really, but still you find yourself nodding, setting your empty tumbler down on the glass table that separates you. “We should...get some sleep, be prepared for tomorrow,” you say, standing up from the chair, wincing when you take note of the clock.

Jack makes a noise that somehow sounds detached; it’s not agreement, but not disagreement either. He makes no haste to get up, so you simply look down at him from where you stand. “See you in the morning?”

“Sweet dreams, darlin’,” is what he offers with a lopsided smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

You return the sentiment with some words of your own, but have a feeling it’s in vain, that his bed will stay unkempt as it is, before you let yourself out of his room. And when the door closes behind you with a soft click, you’re left with your thoughts again, and you realize the conversation has done nothing to make you sleep easier either.

“Excellent, there you are.”

You’re fresh out of the car that has escorted you to a tailor shop in London. It was early. So fucking early. You hadn’t slept and can still taste hints of oak and vanilla in your throat every time you swallow. But now, inside, after passing through a secret door behind one of the changing rooms in the tailor shop, Harry’s voice is warm, dare you say pleased, when Jack and yourself report for duty, and something about his optimistic tone makes you forget about the early hour and the hotel whiskey. It makes your shoulders straighten and your head cock with interest.

And you’re clearly not the only one.

“Found anything?” Jack asks.

Harry leads you to a wall full of screens, where a Kingsman agent is frantically typing on the keyboard in front of him. “One of our agents found the stolen piece for sale on the black market.” One of the screens displays some sort of advertisement on what looked like the dark web; it had several marketplaces for illegal stolen goods.

“Son of a bitch is trying to get rid of it before the auction’s even started.” Jack scoffs.

You jerk your chin at the screen. “We need to ambush him, catch him red-handed.”

“Arrange a meeting,” Jack agrees.

“Precisely,” Harry nods.

“I’ll go,” Jack says instantly.

“Fuck no.” You hadn’t even noticed Eggsy until now. He’s leaning against one of the walls, then pushes himself off, making his way over with his arms crossed over his chest. “Absolutely not. I’ll go.”

“‘course you are” Jack scoffs. “Probably couldn’t tell the difference between a watercolour and an acrylic painting to save your life.” The statement is more of a murmur, but it sets Eggsy off all the same.

“What’s that?”

“You couldn’t sell the bit, Galahad!” Jack exclaims. “We ain’t got the time to fight about this while someone else steals the piece from right under our sorry noses. I’m the most competent man for the job and this bastard has been doing this for years now, so we really should be fixin’ to get ourselves this meeting.”

It’s Eggsy’s turn to scoff. “Oh, so you can excuse mass murder, but draw the fuckin’ line at art theft, Whiskey?” He all but spits out Jack’s codename, walking up to him until their toes almost touch.

Jack’s chest rises as he takes a deep breath, no doubt firing up to counter, but before he can even open his mouth, you raise your voice.

“Alright, stop puffing your chests out at each other, Christ.” Neither of them so much as bat an eye. “Obviously we both want this target, correct? You asked for a Statesman agent with art knowledge, and well, this is him. So, let’s just work on this together, be professionals, and then be fucking done with this assignment. We send Jack to the meet—”

“No—” Eggsy immediately interrupts.

“Jack is going to the meet,” you repeat louder, giving Eggsy a look. “He’s the least likely to be made because he actually possesses the art knowledge to make it convincing and…,” you pause for a second to swallow, and the taste of whiskey still prevalent in your mouth immediately takes you back to the night before, “…and I know you don’t trust him, but I do. I can vouch for him, hell, I’ll even go with him if it makes you all feel better, but Jack goes.”

You don’t miss the way Jack’s head whips around to you, but before you can turn to meet his gaze, Eggsy is speaking again. “He’ll make you right away.”

“You have a tech guy here, right?” You ignore his statement to continue explaining your plan. Your hands land on the shoulders of the man behind the keyboard. “Pretty sure he can put together some fake credentials and create the fake online presence of a pristine, wealthy art collector – a website, social media, news articles, the works. We’ll suggest a public place to meet up, like a restaurant, all to give the target some false sense of security… and then we take him in.”

No one says anything for a while, until Harry, who had been watching the scene before him silently, finally gives his verdict, “I think it sounds like a fine plan. Get to work,” he orders the Kingsman agent behind the keyboard.

“And what about you?” Eggsy asks you, clearly displeased.

You shrug. “I don’t know, I can pose as like… a waitress?”

You adjust your tie in the mirror or the restaurant bathroom, then fold the collar of your dress shirt into place and smooth your hands down over the apron you’re wearing; to play the part you have to look the part. Although… You’re pretty sure the average waiter doesn’t have knives and a gun hidden away in a thigh holster under their apron. You hadn’t been entirely serious, but you were nothing if not true to your word, playing the role you’d suggested. You take one last look at yourself in the mirror before exiting the restaurant bathroom to take your position.

As you enter the restaurant, you find it’s mostly empty, just like Kingsman has arranged it to be. Your eyes find Jack, tucked away into a corner close to the door, having also done his best to look the part. His hair is in its usual side part, but somewhat slicked back, and he’s wearing a navy suit that’s much fancier than the ones he usually wears. You pass his table quickly, your eyes meeting briefly, and he nods at you once as you take your place in front of the window across from his table.

Daytime is the perfect time at a restaurant to clean the windows, right?

Your supplies to really sell your performance are already waiting for you, and you reach down to dip a cloth into the warm water, wringing it out above the bucket before bringing it up to the window. Via the glass, you can see the reflection of the table Jack’s sitting at, and the look on his face makes you want to turn to him, to reassure him one last time—

“I’ve got eyes,” Harry’s voice suddenly informs you through your earpiece. “Target approaching on foot, alone.”

Behind you, Jack sits up at the message, face transforming, relaxing, visibly slipping into the role of rich art collector. You focus yourself back on your work, rubbing the cloth along the window as your eyes search for the target through the glass. And then you see him approaching the restaurant with quick, short steps. He’s even more slender in person, but has the same pair of round glasses perched on his nose. His short, blond hair dances in the wind, and he brings one hand up to smooth it back down onto his head while the other hand carries a black briefcase.

You bring your hand up to the side of your face and press the little button on the earpiece. “Target confirmed,” you say. “Permission to continue mission?”

“Message received,” comes Harry’s reply. “Continue mission. Good luck, agents.”

Nathan enters the restaurant shortly after, and you will yourself to focus on your fake task at hand. Leaning down to wet the cloth again before getting back to work, you hear Nathan and Jack making introductions, and in the reflection you see him take his place across from Jack, setting his briefcase down next to his chair.

“I must say I’m surprised about getting an offer so soon.” Nathan checks his watch. “The auction hasn’t yet ended and the piece we discussed is… at the auction.”

“Technically,” Jack replies.

The man chuckles at that. “Technically, indeed.” He pauses, narrows his eyes. “Tell me, how did you know?”

Jack folds his hands and places them on the table as he begins his story. “Given my… reputation, I was allowed to view the pieces ahead of the auction and I found myself… distressed, when I realized my personal favourite piece was, in fact, a forgery. You see, it was damn near perfect, but then I noticed the brushstrokes; the way they were angled. I know about your…” Jack pauses, searching for the right word, “methods, and I knew I had to get in contact. Figured I could get the piece for a much better price from you than I could at any auction.”

“And how would you know about my…,” Nathan pauses, mirroring Jack’s earlier intonation, “methods?”

Shit. There’s a slight hitch in your stroke of the cloth along the window. What if he just made Jack? In the reflection you can see your partner’s look of contemplation, how he’s almost calculating what to say next and how to do it. You drop the fabric from your hand to land into the bucket by your feet, and take the dishcloth that’s slung over your shoulder to wipe your hands dry as you listen.

“I’m simply an admirer. Of this work, o’course,” Jack says, gesturing towards the briefcase next to the chair. “But also of your work.” Jack leans in, speaks softly when he asks, “Is it true, about the Chinese gu?”

Nathan doesn’t answer definitively, but his lips purse in a pleased smile before he pushes his glasses farther up his nose. “You’ve done your homework.” He sounds impressed, and you can’t help but be amused at the way Jack’s feeding this guy exactly what he needs to hear right now.

Leaning back in the chair, Jack matches the other man’s expression and gives him a casual shrug. “Told you, I’m an admirer.” He pauses, eyes drifting down to the case next to the chair, then asks, “Can I see the piece?”

There’s a long moment where Nathan doesn’t answer, but then, without a word, he reaches for the briefcase, clicks it open and gives Jack a view of the artwork inside.

Jack whistles. “Gorgeous,” he says, looking up at Nathan with an impressed smile. “Your replica looks just like it.”

Nathan smiles proudly, and you know you’ve got him when you hear what he says next, “You won’t believe how easy it is, especially with these smaller pieces.” He seems to catch himself, too; cheeks flushing the slightest bit before he’s checking his watch again. “Listen, I hate to cut this short, but I have another appointment; let's wrap this up, shall we?”

Jack shifts, looking down as if he’s contemplating the question. “I don’t think so.” He reaches inside of his suit jacket, produces his gun from its holster and points it at Nathan under the table, removing the safety with a soft click. “You’re gonna come outside with me – calmly, quietly, no need to make a fuss – and we’re gonna make sure every bit of stolen artwork is gonna go back to their rightful owners.”

Across from him, Nathan moves fast – surprisingly fast. He pulls his own gun from his jacket, points it at Jack. “Do you think I’d come here unprepared? I’ll tell you how we’re gonna do this: You’re gonna let me walk—”

As he talks, you glance over your shoulder, take in their positions, guns out but hidden from view of the rest of the restaurant. You look at Jack, and he doesn’t look at you, but his head jerks in a short nod. You turn away again, hand slipping under your apron, fingers flitting over one of the smaller blades in the holster before slowly slipping it out of the leather.

“—I mean, what’s your plan, hmm?” Nathan asks. “To shoot me here? For everyone to see? Whether you’re law enforcement or not, I know you’re not gonna do that.”

Jack’s grip on his gun tightens. “And you are?”

You turn and bend down, and to the untrained eye it would look like you were about to tie your shoelaces. During your movement, you swing the knife and throw it towards the table in front of you. There’s a soft swoosh, and then the knife lands in Nathan’s thigh with a squelching sound. He yelps, reaches for his leg, and in the process, the gun drops from his hand. Jack catches it effortlessly before it can clatter to the ground, then kicks at the bottom of Nathan’s chair. It sends the man tumbling backwards, the wood hitting the floor with a thump. You’re back on your feet in no time, rushing over to shield the man from the view of the few people in the restaurant, shoulder to shoulder with your partner who had the same idea.

“Oh, sir! Are you okay?” you ask, kneeling down to pull the knife from his thigh. He keens in response as you hide the blade away in the pocket of your apron.

“Oof,” Jack says, making a face and holding the lapels of his jacket as he looks down at the squirming man at his feet. “Came clattering down harder than a screen door in a storm.”

“I know,” you say with faux-concern, taking a hold of Nathan’s hand and pressing it down over the wound with a wet sound. “That was quite a fall! Let’s get you up, we should get you some air. Come on.” He struggles against you, but with a firm grip on his arm, you still him, then haul him onto his feet. You look at Jack with a knowing grin. “Sir, can you help me get this man outside?”

You find yourself watching from below the overhang of the restaurant, sheltered from the London weather, as Jack escorts Nathan to Harry and Eggsy, who are waiting by a dark car. As Eggsy helps Nathan into the backseat, Harry sticks his hand out at Jack, who contemplates the gesture for a split-second before taking Harry’s hand and shaking it. They exchange some words, briefly look in your direction, but you’re too far away to really make out what they’re saying. Eggsy closes the car door and watches the two agents, seemingly contemplating if he’s going to follow his colleague’s example, and you can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief when he does. Jack says his goodbyes in the form of a two-finger salute, then turns to make his way to you.

“Well?” you ask when he stands next to you, leaning back against the window as you both watch the car drive off. “Did we save the art world?”

“Close enough,” he says. “Harry said to thank you on Kingsman’s behalf, and that they’ll handle it from here on out. They just… want our mission reports within the week.”

You groan, eyes closing and shoulders dropping at the reminder. “That was the one thing I hadn’t missed about going on missions…”

Jack grunts softly, in agreement, you think, then says, “Think it was a successful first assignment together?”

“I’d say all the training’s paid off,” you say, shifting and knocking your shoulder against his. “Be sure to mention that in your mission report, yeah?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Jack chuckles shortly, then shuffles his feet and shoves his hands in his pockets. “Been meanin’ to ask you… Did you mean what you said earlier? ‘Bout trustin’ me?”

You look at him, trying to determine whether he’s really asking or just being a dick, but he keeps looking straight ahead, his expression giving nothing away.

“I did.” You pause before adding, “I wouldn’t be much of a partner if I didn’t, right?”

He cracks, the corners of his mouth turning upwards, a slight hint of a smile appearing. He looks at you from the corner of his eye. “You are a good liar…”

You can’t help but match his expression, thinking back to how exasperated he looked in the red flickering lights of the training space days ago. “I’m not that good.”

He’s quiet after that, head tipping down to look at his shoes as his eyebrows knit together and his tongue comes out to wet his lips. It feels tense, suddenly, and you don’t know if it’s because you said something you shouldn’t have. Does he not believe you? Maybe it’s just your imagination. You think of something to say to break the tension, or to at least change the subject.

“It was my wife,” Jack suddenly says, head shooting up to look directly ahead again and straightening his back.

Your mouth opens, then closes, seriously doubting if you’ve heard him right. With a confused shake of your head, you ask him, “Sorry, what was that?”

He clears his throat. “My wife. She’s why I turned on the agency.”

You frown, even more confused than before. “You never told me you’re married.”

He’s pausing again and your heartbeat picks up, cheeks heating at the idea that he has mentioned his wife and that you simply forgot. It’s just that Jack… He didn’t seem to be the type to be in a serious relationship. You rack your brain, going over the interactions you’ve had with him and scanning for the word ‘wife’ or ‘spouse’ or—

“Was,” he corrects. “It was years ago and... she died.”

—oh.

There had been so much emotion in his voice, and it’s all so unexpected that he knocks the absolute wind out of you with it. He almost doesn’t look like himself when he finally looks at you. He takes a breath before he continues, “Two methamphetamine users killed her durin’ a robbery. She was pregnant with our son and… and I guess, in my fucked up mind, that justified—”

“Stop,” you say. “You were right earlier. It’s— You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to tell me.”

“You were right,” he presses. “And I thought you oughta know it, ‘cause I—” He stops himself with a bitter chuckle before continuing, “Christ, this is gonna sound so fuckin’ cheesy, but… The whole thing in Cambodia, that’s not who I wanna be. I wanna be… better, y’know? Do the right thing, be a good agent, not be a shitty partner, the whole nine yards, and I… I’ve been thinking on it and I think it starts with trust.” He cocks his hip, hooks his fingers in his belt loops, and it might have been somewhat funny if he didn’t look so bashful when he peers up at you after. “And me workin’ on my communication skills and bein’ earnest, which I’m honest to God tryin’ my damnedest at right now,” he adds with a hint of a smile. “That sound acceptable to you?”

Blinking up at him, you let his words wash over you. You had truly meant it when you said you trusted him back in the hotel, and with the way he is standing across from you, all but wearing his heart on his sleeve, you trust him to be truthful and genuine with you now. There is only one answer you could give him.

“Yes.

#agent whiskey #agent whiskey x reader #jack daniels x reader #agent whiskey x you #jack daniels x you #kingsman the golden circle #kingsman 2 #pedro pascal #cowboy like me fic #dani writing #(screaming) i can't believe its real and here!!!

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dukeofonions · 3 years

Note

Oh god if Thomas is changing the canon because of fanart and fanfic than I’ve lost all hope for Sanders Sides. Literally, published authors legally CANNOT read fanfic of their own works because if they ever write something based off a fic is like, breaking intellectual property laws. My moral compass is spinning out of control over everything Thomas is doing right now

Well technically they can read fanfics, most are just advised not to in order to avoid messy legal issues, and those that choose to read it typically don't mention that they do. It really just depends on the creator.

Thomas is a little different in that he's a YouTuber that, honestly, isn't as well known as he used to be. He's got his one main series that has a following and has always been chill with people creating fan works for it. Heck, he's even bought some stuff made by fans so clearly he doesn't have a problem with people making money by selling things with his characters on them.

(Plus I don't think he or a majority of his fan base would ever take legal action against each other over something like this. Considering most of his fan base falls in the younger area)

Now as far as him using fandom ideas in the actual series, it's kinda in a Grey area since we as a fandom tend to share general ideas that we're not sure where they originated from. Like the imagination for example, or the idea that Janus is cold blooded, or even the Sides having movie nights in their onesies.

Ideas like that have been used so much in the fandom that it's nearly impossible to trace them back to the original source. Could anyone tell me who first came up with the idea for the "subconscious?" A place that does not exist in canon but is used in so many fan works that some people might think it is?

So basically what I'm getting at is, Thomas technically can interact with fan works (including fanfics) and use general ideas in his own series because, let's face it, how would we ever know where he got the idea to do a onesie movie night with the Sides?

Or if he does decide to change the Sides's outfits again, who can stop him from using the idea of Patton having round glasses when so many works portray him as having them? If he was outright copying someone's design on some art they made without permission than that would be a problem. But a general idea (like Roman getting a cape or crown) that's been used over and over again and no has a direct claim to it is completely fair game.

And fanfiction is kinda the same way seeing as there are so many common tropes used in Sanders Sides fics. The problem here would come from using specific plots of fics in the series without consulting the author first. But again, it's kinda tricky when so many fics have similar plots and ideas (just think about how many sick fics there are) that it'd be nearly impossible to track down the original creator of that idea.

If Thomas wanted to make an episode where a Side was sick and being taken care of, he couldn't really be accused of stealing an idea when it's such a common thing and has even been used in so many other shows over the years.

And honestly, I don't think Thomas is the type of guy to go running around reading fics and stealing their plots because he thinks it's a better story than his own, but he definitely spends enough time in the fandom looking at what they've made and gets inspired by the things they make.

The downside to that is now it feels like he's just trying to cater to the fandom and give them whatever they want to see regardless of whether or not it fits in the story or makes sense for the characters.

For all we know Janus and Remus's relationship could have originally planned to be something much different, but after it being so long and the fandom already getting their own idea about what the two are like, they decided to just go "Yes. This exactly how these two are in the series." Because they didn't want to upset any fans when their relationship was nothing like they imagined it would be.

Which, I dunno. Joan said at one point that (in regards to fan theories) they wouldn't change anything if someone got a theory right, so I'm hoping that the same attitude extends towards catering to fan ideas and expectations as well.

However now that Joan is gone Thomas may just completely resort to "keep the fans happy by doing what the majority wants even if it makes no sense they'll be too happy to notice."

But again, I don't know. It's not a bad thing if he slips some fan service in from time to time. But if that's all the series ends up being then I'm out.

#dukeofasks #now if ships suddenly start becoming canon im burning my blog #are there ideas the fandom has come up with that i think would be cool to see in the series?#absolutely #but at the same time I'd rather they just stick to the story they originally wanted to tell #even though im not entirely sure what that story is supposed to be #look dark side logan is an interesting concept #but given how logan is and that dark sides technically don't exist it just wouldn't make sense #but i don't even know what they ever plan on doing with logan so he knows if they just decide to do it since it's such a popular idea #long post

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refinedbuffoonery · 3 years

Text

Looking Through A Window (7)

macriley married undercover au

masterlist.

Sorry for the delay! I either have my shit together in real life or fandom life, but never both at the same time lol. Anyway, I got endless joy from reading all your reactions to last chapter’s clifhanger (sorry not sorry). I didn’t respond to comments because I don’t trust myself not to spoil anything, but just know that I appreciate every single one of your theories. Also, many of you were at least somewhat correct. (Yikes am I becoming predictable?? Gotta fix that.) This chapter ends at a good stopping point, so I’m going to switch gears and write a couple chapters of other fics (which I encourage you to read!!) before coming back to this. But fear not! I have big plans for the future of this fic, and I’ll send you all down the theory rabbit hole soon enough. xoxo

*****

The world narrows until Mac is only aware of two things: his racing heart and the fact that Riley is gone.

The blood is fresh, but there’s no sign of a struggle—no sign of anything, really. The windows are locked and unbroken, the bedroom door is half-closed the way it always is. Not a single thing is out of place…except for Riley.

So, where the hell is she?

His body goes taut as the worst case scenario plays in his mind. Please don’t be gone, Mac silently begs. Please.

The apartment is quiet. Too quiet. So when the shower turns on with a loud thunk, Mac flinches. Hard. Without thinking, he scrambles out of bed and lunges for the bathroom door.

As he bursts through the door, Mac’s awareness shifts to three things: Riley is alive, she’s naked, and she’s screaming.

“Mac!” She hisses, glaring over her shoulder. If looks could kill, he’d be very, very dead by now. At least her back is to him. “What the hell?”

Mac barely hears her over the roaring in his ears. He scans her naked body, trying and failing to be professional as he scans for injuries.

His eyes land on the blood smeared between her thighs, then the thin stream rolling down the inside of her knee. As understanding dawns on him, Mac holds out his own blood-covered hand in silent explanation.

Riley winces. “Sorry about the blood.”

Mac still feels a little disconnected from his body when he says, “I was afraid you were dead.”

Embarrassment floods Riley’s face. She begs,“Can we please finish this conversation when I’m not naked and bleeding all over the floor?” Mac’s gaze automatically flicks to the drops of blood between her feet, but he doesn’t move. His limbs are still frozen in place, the way they’ve been since he found her. “Get out!” Riley snaps.

His own embarrassment finally taking hold, Mac stumbles backward, tripping over the door frame on his way out.

While Riley showers, Mac busies himself by stripping the bed and washing the sheets and blankets. Not just because it needs to be done, but because it’s easier to process emotions when his hands are busy. It feels like he just experienced the entire spectrum of human emotion in the span of three minutes, and now all these untethered feelings are floating around in his head. As he works, Mac examines them one by one.

He woke up this morning wanting to cuddle with Riley. Not just wanting to, but comfortable enough to act on that desire.

When his hand landed in the blood, his brain immediately jumped to the worst case scenario. He is deeply afraid of said scenario.

Then panic set in, as he desperately tried to prove himself wrong.

Followed by relief at finding Riley and learning the blood was not from an injury, but from a normal bodily function.

Then embarrassment, because he freaked out and barged in on her over something he could’ve deduced for himself if only he’d just stopped to think. He’s supposed to be smart, so why couldn’t that big brain of his, as Jack would say, figure this out?

The answer to that question, at least, comes easily: Because it’s Riley, and he doesn’t always think with his head when it comes to her.

For example, while he’s mortified at seeing her naked, a part of him wishes she’d been facing the other direction.

Mac starts the washing machine and decides to do the mature thing and hide in the kitchen for the entire foreseeable future. He spies Harley lying on the couch, gazing out a window. “And where were you for all of this?” he asks. “A heads-up would’ve been nice.”

Harley stares at him for a few seconds before resuming her vigil, and Mac hears the message, loud and clear: You’re on your own.

When Riley still hasn’t emerged from the bedroom long after the shower turned off, Mac suspects that she’s hiding too. He doesn’t blame her.

It’s late morning by the time the laundry is finished, and Mac can’t hide any longer. Clutching the still-warm sheets and blankets to his chest, he cautiously ventures into the bedroom. Riley is lying on the bed with her knees tucked up to her chin, and a pang of sympathy echoes in Mac’s chest. Her eyes are closed, but Mac doubts that she’s actually asleep.

Dropping the sheets on the floor, he asks, “Are you alive?”

Riley groans. “No.”

“Could you please go die on the couch then, so I can make the bed?” She groans again and mumbles something incoherent. “Also you’ll feel better if you eat something.”

“No I won’t.” She sounds like a whining toddler, and Mac has to stifle a snort. Still, a bit of the awkwardness dissipates. But only a bit.

“Yes you will. I know you, Miss Hangry.”

“I’m not hangry.”

“Says the one who skipped breakfast.”

“I was hiding from you.”

“So was I,” Mac confesses. Riley cracks a single eye open at that, just in time to see his cheeks heat. “Trust me, I am way more embarrassed than you.”

It takes him a second to notice that she’s blushing too. “Wanna bet?”

Mac starts putting the fitted sheet on the unoccupied side of the mattress. “I didn’t see anything, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Nothing he hasn’t seen before, anyway, but Mac wisely decides to keep that part to himself. “Victoria’s secret is still a secret,” he adds with a wink.

Riley rolls her eyes. “You did not just say that.”

“Made you laugh, didn’t it?” Mac gives her a shit-eating grin, and despite her best attempt at hiding it, amusement slips through the cracks in Riley’s unimpressed facade.

“Whatever. We don’t have to do anything today, do we?” Mac raises his brow at the question. For all the years he’s known Riley, she’s always been more of a ‘suck it up’ kind of person, not a ‘stay in bed’ person. So her question is surprising, if not mildly concerning.

“Nope.” He pauses. “Are you okay? This isn’t like you.”

Riley rolls onto her back. “Dude, it feels like someone took a cheese grater to my insides.”

Mac winces at the mental image. “Ouch.”

She pauses, as if contemplating her next words before she says them. “I got a new IUD a couple months ago, and this one makes my cramps way worse. I used to be able to ignore them, but this sucks.”

Not knowing how to reply to that, he squeezes Riley’s ankle in a way he hopes is reassuring. Mac flicks his gaze up to meet hers and finds Riley already looking at him. Her gaze is warm and steady, but Mac can see hints of pain clouding her dark eyes. He thinks it isn’t fair that her body turns on her like this.

"I'm getting back in bed the second you're done making it," she warns.

"Go right ahead."

Riley wanders into the kitchen, and, true to her word, reappears right when Mac finishes smoothing down the comforter, with Harley at her heels. To Mac's surprise, Harley jumps on the bed, waits for Riley to get situated, and then tucks herself into Riley's side. A smile blooms on his face. Riley puts an arm around Harley, pulling the dog into her stomach before moving to scratch her head. When Harley licks Riley’s face in return, Mac suddenly gets the feeling he's watching something private.

Satisfied that Riley is in capable hands, Mac leaves without another word.

*****

Beneath the weathered wooden conference table, Harley’s head rests on Mac’s foot as she dozes through the Patriots’ council meeting. When they arrived, no one looked more put off by their presence than Conrad, but, true to his word, Ethan welcomed Mac and Riley with open arms and encouraged their participation. A murmur of dissent snaked through the room, but no one openly questioned Ethan’s decision to include them.

Twenty minutes in, Mac would rather be anywhere but here. The “meeting” so far has been very little business and mostly rehashing some fishing trip a few of the guys went on over the weekend. Mac is holding out hope that it won’t be a complete waste of his time, but said hope dwindles each time someone exaggerates about the size of a fish.

There’s nothing interesting to look at in the room, save for Riley. No art, no plants, no wall of guns. Not even a clock. Just drab gray walls with no windows. And he doesn’t dare study any of the men for longer than a second or two each. Making an enemy is as easy as looking at someone the wrong way, and Mac has no desire to antagonize the other members of the Patriots…at least not yet.

Extricating his foot from beneath Harley’s head, he’s just about to make an excuse about needing to use the restroom when Ethan’s phone rings. After quickly checking it, Ethan excuses himself from the meeting with a curt nod to Conrad. Mac understands the look; he’s given and received it countless times himself, after all. Permission to continue without him. Because despite his tendency to toe the line, Conrad is still Ethan’s trusted lieutenant. The exchange is subtle, practiced, and apparently insignificant to the other men at the table, who are somehow still talking about fish.

When the storytelling finally lulls, Conrad clears his throat. "Let's start with recruitment. Report." No nonsense, right to the point. Maybe he’s tired of the fish conversation too.

As Conrad steers the conversation through the various items on the agenda, Mac realizes two things.

One, the Patriots are far more organized than he originally made them out to be. This is no grassroots startup, and their plans go much deeper than protests and parking lot shootings.

Two, Conrad is careful not to let anyone share too much information, instead asking everyone to give their detailed reports in individual meetings. And it's more than just trying to keep him and Riley in the dark. It's almost as if…almost as if Conrad doesn't want anyone to see the big picture besides himself.

Mac decides to take his theory for a test drive. "I know I'm new here," he says, "but why have everyone meet with you a second time individually instead of sharing their full reports now? Wouldn't that be a better use of time?"

Conrad sneers. "On the contrary, boy, why would I waste everyone's time making them listen to information they don't need to know?"

It takes every ounce of Mac’s self control not to roll his eyes.

Beneath the table, Riley grips his knee, nails digging in through his khakis. Mac wants to tell her that he’s thinking the same thing she is, but he can’t. The best he can settle for is a brief touch on her arm before needing to do something with his hands to distract himself from the way his skin burns under her touch. He elects to drum his fingers on the table, mostly to push Conrad’s buttons even further.

If Conrad’s furrowed brow is any indication, it works.

“Do you mind?” Conrad says with a pointed glare at Mac’s hand.

Feigning ignorance, Mac replies, “Mind about what?”

“The tapping.”

“Oh!” Mac makes a show of sliding his gaze down to his hand before flattening his palm against the table. “My bad.”

Looking none too pleased, Conrad moves on, but to Mac’s surprise, the man sitting beside him leans in to whisper, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. He's not the one to piss off." His words are tinged with genuine concern, and under different circumstances, Mac would appreciate the advice.

"He's a man," Mac whispers back, "just like everyone else at this table." Minus Riley, of course.

The man presses on. "The previous occupant of your seat was shot point blank for asking too many questions." Mac's brows raise at that. "You're sitting in a dead man's chair."

Mac pockets that little detail gratefully, but he hesitates before ultimately heeding the man's warning. He fiddles with the button on his sleeve, impatiently waiting for the meeting to end so he can share his theory with Riley.

What Mac doesn't anticipate is Riley beating him to it, pulling him aside before they're even back in the car. "Conrad's compartmentalizing information," she says in a quiet, confident tone.

They’re too exposed to be having this conversation. Mac nervously checks for eavesdroppers, but doesn’t spot any. Deeming it safe for now, he replies, "Yeah I thought so too."

"He's made himself essential. No one else knows how everything works." Riley pauses, eyes catching on something over his shoulder. Barely audibly, she adds, "An asshole and a control freak." He doesn’t need to turn around to know she’s looking at Conrad, not when she has a white-knuckled grip on Harley’s leash.

"So if we eliminate him…"

Riley nods in understanding. He’s controlling everything in an attempt to rise through the rankings and seize power. So if they eliminate Conrad, the whole organization may very well come tumbling down in his wake.

Now they just have to figure out how the hell to accomplish that.

"What if we help him?" Riley suggests, reading Mac’s mind.

"What?"

"We've spent all this time looking for the weakest link, but maybe…maybe we need to attach ourselves to the strongest one." A stray curl falls in Riley's face, and as she brushes it behind her ear, Mac absentmindedly wishes his fingers were brushing it back instead. Riley continues, "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I think we should help him become more powerful than he already is. That way, we can do as much damage as possible when we take him out."

A man they don't know walks by, and Mac nods in greeting. Waiting for the man to move out of earshot, Mac drops to one knee, giving Harley a good scratch. She wags her tail and opens her mouth in a smile, clearly enjoying the attention. When the coast is clear again, Mac says, "You just made this op so much longer, but I think you're right."

Riley snorts. "What, is there somewhere else you need to be?"

Gazing up at the woman before him, the answer is obvious. Not unless you're coming with me.

*****

In the gray hour before dawn crests over the world, Mac wakes to something tickling his nose. He exhales sharply, trying to blow it away, but the tickle persists.

His face is pressed into the nape of Riley's neck, and a deep inhale causes a few strands of her hair to go up his nostrils. Reaching up to brush Riley’s hair out of his face, he hesitates right before his calloused fingers brush her skin, afraid that even the barest touch will shatter the moment. As soon as Riley wakes, he'll have to hide behind his mask of indifference, and Mac isn't ready to do that yet.

For as long as he dares, Mac allows himself to imagine what it would be like to wake up with Riley for real, in his own home. He sees her curled in his bed, sheets pulled up to her chin, hears the soft, steady cadence of her breathing, smells the lingering traces of perfume on her skin.

Riley stirs in his arms, and the vision blurs, moving out of reach. Mac grasps for it, but it evaporates into nothingness as she settles back against him.

He shifts his focus to the very real sensation of Riley’s body tucked into his. Her back to his chest, his leg slotted between hers, her ass pressed against his—

Shit.

Mac jerks backward, trying to put as much space between them as possible before Riley wakes and realizes just what she scooted back against.

Except, in his haste, Mac doesn’t realize there’s a third party present until his foot slams into the small, warm body lying at the foot of the bed. Guilt washes over him at Harley’s ensuing yelp.

Awake, Riley mumbles, “Did you just kick the dog?”

“It was an accident!” Mac insists, sitting up. He turns his attention to Harley. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. You can come back if you want.” He pats the bed in a way he hopes is reassuring, but Harley merely eyes him with suspicion before slinking out of the room.

“I can’t believe you kicked the dog,” Riley says, still half-asleep. “She finally slept with us, and you betrayed her.”

“I told you it was an accident!”

“Betrayal.”

Mac rakes a hand through his hair. “You’re never going to let this go, are you?”

“Nope.” Riley sighs, rolling back to her side of the bed, and Mac isn’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed. Or maybe a little bit of both. “You better go apologize.”

Mac scoffs. “And let you take over the entire bed while I’m gone? I don’t think so.”

And there it is. The closest they’ve come to acknowledging the evolution of their bed-sharing habits. Particularly the newfound lack of sticking to their respective sides. If he’s being honest with himself, Mac doesn’t know where to go from here. He wants to see it as a sign of things changing between them. Obviously Riley is aware of their precarious positioning, but based on her casual relocation, she doesn’t see this any differently than the dozens of times they’ve slept squished in a small space together in the past. Whether she’s aware of the other thing, she doesn’t let on.

“Your funeral,” Riley says, pulling Mac out of his head.

Right.

The dog.

The dog whose forgiveness he needs to earn via extra breakfast. Maybe extra dinner too.

Sighing, Mac goes after her, cursing his inability to get things right with either of the females in this house.

~ Tag List ~ Want to be added? Send me an ask.

@angelinanao

@annmariestuff

@dreambelievergeek

@emilyscotson

@erika-amber

@fandomsilovewithoutshame

@fangirlfreak08

@g3svv

@hellishrose

@holbytlanna

@i-cant-think-of-a-name-15

@ijamaica5535

@justaghostmonument

@likeit-or-leaveit

@losingitovermacriley

@macrileyedits

@macs-paperclips

@multi-fandomshipper101

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@nikki-1607

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@penny114

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@thecarrieonokay

@tom-hunter-summah

@whatsabex

#beth writes #looking through a window au #macgyver #macriley #angus macgyver #riley davis

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theinvisibledreamergirl · 3 years

Text

She’s thunderstorms

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Helena Craig) x M!OC (Clay Banner)

Words count: 2.5 k

Warning: 🔞 content/Language

Category: Angst/AU

A.N: Part two of A Triangle of Love Series. Events after the Sweet dreams, TN fic. Helen is the alter ego of Klaw Craig. Feel free to judge me because now that I’m re-reading it… it’s bullshit and I don’t know what to call this. Especially the song it’s not fitting duhhh. Going to log off after posting it. *sighs*

Song: “She’s thunderstorms” - Arctic Monkeys

MASTERLIST

———————————————————————

She’s thunderstorms

Lying on her front, up against the wall

She’s thunderstorms

Bryce Lahela was right.

She’s like a goddess that entered to this building and blessed my life when I made eye contact with her.

Indeed a blessing.

She was the most incredible woman and everyone would take a bow just for her hand and fulfill all the wishes she wanted.

He couldn’t feel his breath in that short moment when they exchanged looks. Did someone pause his heart and his body? Because surely he had multiple questions as his mind drifted into thoughts.

When did she come here? How did she find him? Where did she work before coming here? Is she alone? But if not, who was with her? The hair colour and style had changed too. From the straight dark brown with bangs had gone into long, wavy light ash blonde hair that seemed to make her a different person.

But her face was still like he left it. Her arched brows that made her confident; captivating eyes with determination; full and inviting lips that always gave him chills when she crooked them into a playful smirk; her strong and beautiful jaw that tilted whenever he teased her or touched with such delicacy that made her gasp into pleasure; her long neck… without his necklace. He almost scoffed. Of course she had taken it off. What was he expecting?

Their bodies pining in the wall in ecstasy and hearing her sounds...

I’ve been feeling foolish, you should try it

She came and substituted the peace and quiet for

Acrobatic blood, flow concertina

Cheating heartbeat, rapid fire

Everything.

He wanted to do everything.

Anytime and anywhere.

With her and only her.

When he saw her hand shaking with another one... he felt a pit into his stomach and a familiar feeling came into his brain.

Mine.

She’s thunderstorms

Lying on her front, up against the wall

She’s thunderstorms

Here is your host, sounds as if she’s pretty close

When the heat starts growing horns

She’s thunderstorms

That greatly but destructive feeling called jealousy was in his veins. He wanted to reach out and twirl her around and to whisper to her:

I’m sorry and I really missed you.

Instead he came with slow and confident steps as if his imagination vanished quickly without so noticing and a small professional smile appeared in his face and she seemed to understand it. One more reason why he loves her.

“Ah Clay here you are,” Simon spoke breaking his trip of memory lane. “I want to present you Dr. Helena Craig the surgeon who’s going to replace Edgar for a while. Helen this is Dr. Clay Banner our future cardiothoracic surgeon.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Dr. Banner… I have heard a lot about you.” It seemed like a lifetime since he had heard her angelic voice that was a symphony in his ears. He held his tears from falling and coughed to fight the strangle voice that was about to let out.

“A pleasure to meet you too Dr. Craig and I can say the same thing about you.”

Something inside of Helen was igniting.

Her flame.

That old flame which burnt her into many pieces and toyed with her body all of those times sharing with him. She couldn’t say that she didn’t miss him. The real him. The one she fell in love with. His adoring face, his soft hands, his broad shoulders where she leaned on and his assuring voice when she felt insecure.

She had mastered perfectly the art of acting and pretending to be satisfied with everything in her life. Little did those people in the room know how her heart was aching miserably and was shattering from disappointment and hurt from the very same man that was just two feet away.

But a baritone and irritating voice seemed to cut off all of that momentary darkness which in fact she thanked him in silence. “Done with the introductions? Great. We’ve got work to do.” Ethan turned his back and started to write in the whiteboard. “The patient is from Manhattan Presbyterian…”

While Ethan was explaining the symptoms, Helen held a transfixed face to all of the theories of her attending and unexpectedly to other colleagues, she started to ask questions which resulted helpful despite being a surgeon. Sometimes she shared thoughts with Clay and even agreeing with them. It was part of the job after all and Clay couldn’t help but feel proud for his woman.

Correction: his ex.

A past tense that he had to learn from now on. But deep inside of him there was a spark of hope that maybe… maybe things would get back to normal. And maybe she would forgive him.

The team was finally dismissed but only two people stayed. Ethan called Helen before she would leave and that made Clay’s blood boiled because all he wanted was to talk to her right after this meeting. He had to try one last card even though it was useless.

“Dr. Ramsey can we talk for a moment?”

“Is there anything wrong Dr. Banner?”

“No j-just,” he stuttered. “Q-questions about the team in general.”

“We will but after I finish a discussion with Dr. Craig if you don’t mind.”

Fuck you.

“Not at all Sir.” He closed the door reluctantly and sighed in defeat.

“What’s the matter Dr. Ramsey?” She asked although she knew damn well why he had called her.

“What are you doing here?” Ethan clasped his fingers as if to stop whatever his mind was blowing now. His ears were still echoing with her words whispering softly.

Thank you for the distraction. I really needed it.

“Starting my job,” she said innocently and shrugged. “Is it irrelevant?”

“Yes, it is,” he nodded and his feet was carrying him over her; something inevitable that no matter what, he couldn’t stop. “I don’t think all of this is a coincidence.”

“Well lucky for you now you’ll have the most trustworthy person in your team that won’t let you down.”

He scoffed while shaking his head. “I highly doubt your confidence.”

“Just wait and see.”

I’ve already seen you.

After their encounter last night Ethan couldn’t sleep. Many times of trying to change and find the perfect position led to nothing but drinking in the balcony that even his dog Jenner didn’t like it and cooed sadly to his owner. What was this woman doing to him? Why he felt so weak in front of her that immediately wanted to bend her over to his desk and scream his name?

“So,” she crossed her arms behind her waist. “How was I?”

He frowned in confusion and god she thought to herself why he had to be such handsome even in that moment. “Hm?”

“In making you feel surprised.”

“Ah that. Well you’ve clearly exceeded my expectations.”

“Wow. So I rendered you speechless then.”

Giggles were ringing in the walls and for the first time in a while Ethan Ramsey smiled at that. It was something so natural that came from her as other people didn’t get his dry humour but she... she was different. It was like a magnet that more and more you get closer, the more attached you become to her.

She’s been loop-the-looping around my mind

Her motorcycle boots give me this kind of

Acrobatic blood, concertina

Cheating heartbeat, rapid fire

He cleared his throat in purpose of changing the subject. “The reason why I called you,” he put his hand in his front pocket to reveal a tiny and shining object that seemed familiar to her. “Does this belong to you?

“Oh my god yes! This is my earring!” Helen exclaimed shockingly while grazing it with her thumb. Apparently had slipped when she whispered in his ear. “I was looking it all over my room but I couldn’t find it anywhere.” Her gaze now was turned back to him in gratefulness. “Thank you.”

Without thinking she closed their distance by enveloping him into a hug. This caught Ethan off guard but now he returned the hug back and closed his eyes while inhaling her perfume. She did the same too and in that moment both of them felt safe on each other’s arms as if they knew where they belonged. The world around them didn’t exist for a few seconds and both of them despite not saying out loud, they wanted to continue it.

She’s thunderstorms

Lying on her front, up against the wall

She’s thunderstorms

“It’s nothing.” He smiled politely when they separated.

“No this is not nothing. I owe you because this earring was really special to me.” She inhaled slowly while considering an option. Taking some risk wouldn’t hurt her? Right? “What do you say uhm- a drink? In this case I can apologise for yesterday’s… thing.”

“You have nothing to apologise for.”

“Sure I have, because to be completely honest Dr. Ramsey… I knew who you were.”

And here he thought that she was just another stranger that thankfully didn’t know him. Now he was feeling raged and betrayed because that meant she wanted to impress him only by her appearance and make a spot here on his team. His authoritative voice came back as if to maintain the last straw of himself.

“You did know who were you talking to?”

“Yeah I did. Now I’m speaking to my attending,” she moved tantalising and confidently just like yesterday. “To my colleague. And,” then tilted her chin while saying. “To a possible friend.”

“For the latter dream on.” He warned her.

She laughed heartedly. “We’ll meet at Donahue’s at 9 PM sharply and don’t be late because I can’t wait more than two minutes.”

His eyebrows narrowed incredulously and crossed his arms to his chest. “I don’t remember accepting your offer. And besides… how do you know my agenda? What if I’m busy?”

“Well I don’t remember taking a no answer from you and I’ve got my sources about your special agenda.” She shrugged innocently. “See you tonight doctor.”

The door was closed but not before throwing a playful wink to him. He let out a laugh while shaking his head in disbelief. This woman was really crazy but it was one of a kind and Ethan Ramsey couldn’t wait to know more about her.

——————————————

Helen wasn’t surprised to see him waiting impatiently in the corner while she was talking with Dr. Ramsey.

What was so important that took them this long? He thought.

Actually that was only five minutes but to him it seemed like five hours already. When she got out he couldn’t help but stare at her not knowing where to start first.

“Helen.”

“Dr. Banner,” the plastered smile didn’t leave her face despite being furious and ready to wipe his ass in front of everyone. “You can go now to Dr. Ramsey. He’s free.”

“Actually, can we talk?” She rolled her eyes. “I won’t make you wait too much. I promise.”

Helen whispered only for the two of them to hear. “You and your promises,” a tackle of her tongue was heard twice. “Aren’t in coherence. I don’t know why should I listen to you. Let me guess- I’m sorry my Helen but I had to step in you to gain my spot here in Edenbrook thanks to my parents who are very powerful and influential people in Boston.”

“I-”

“I’m not finished,” her hardened gaze was evident and he knew he had to stop. “Or how you accepted without so much caring not one but two strange women in your bed while you were fucking drunk. That must’ve been a fruitful threesome huh? Why didn’t you try with a boy too? That would’ve been the cherry on top.” Her words were poisonous and she thought he deserved much worse than these. “Or how your mother has always tried to make me feel miserable in front of everyone when you did absolutely nothing to stop it. Not even moving your finger.”

In an unusual place, when you’re feeling far away

She does what the night does to the day

She was right about everything. He couldn’t disagree with any of the words she said. Helen Craig was rarely found to be wrong.

“I think that our conversation ends here Dr. Banner.”

He grabbed her elbow without thinking twice for his recklessness and made her narrow her eyes in annoyance. “Tonight at Donahue’s bar 9 o’clock and I will explain you everything.”

“Get off me or I’ll scream.” She warned dangerously.

“We both know you can’t.” Clay had no idea where this was leading but he could see the fire into her eyes. “You wouldn’t want people to find out that you had a boyfriend working here huh?”

Look at this prick starting to talk.

“Well well do you need a reminder that my father and my brother can make you beg for your life again?”

The last encounter with the Craig males was one year ago when they found out that this jerk had dumped the most precious thing of their family. Patrick Craig was the first to reach for the drawer to load his gun just in case whereas Brian her brother made sure to find Clay’s location with his advanced knowledge of technology. The end resulted in a bloody and a harsh fight between them and warning the latter to not come any centimeter closer to Helen. And the scar on his neck was still visible after that time.

“That happened once. It can’t happen again,” he grasped her out of his hand. “I’ll be waiting.”

With that he left the ultimatum settled in her hands and keeping it until 9 PM. Helen stayed still like someone had glued her in a position that she couldn’t escape.

She wouldn’t go.

No.

She wouldn’t hear him again and believe his words. But there was such a confidence in his voice that made her scared. Thanks to that she felt the anxiety rising up and panic for what was about to come.

She could easily cancel the plans with Dr. Ramsey and not go to that bar. But when she met him yesterday it felt something different with that share of eye contact.

Despite being half-drunk and exhausted from her flight he had made her forgetting all of her plans and the reason why she came in Boston. It was entirely a new world, a new dimension that she hadn’t explored yet and was eager to find more about this man.

It was unethical but did she care? Not in the slightest. Helen was ambitious and she definitely would possess it. She had to think of a plan how to sabotage this whole thing but how?

The choice she had to make was like a ticking bomb that in one way or another, was going to blast.

She’s thunderstorms

Lying on her front, up against the wall

She’s thunderstorms, thunderstorms, thunderstorms

—————————————————————-

TAGS WILL APPEAR IN A REBLOG!

#open heart #open heart choices #open heart fan fiction #open heart fan fic #my mc #or better the alter-ego of #klaw craig #——>#helena craig #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #clay banner #clay banner x mc #triangle of love series #part two

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bookwyrminspiration · 3 years

Note

WAIT. I'm late to the party but I just remembered all those anons were sending in "why I send you asks" and their reasons and I actually really want to participate, so I hope you will accept late applications?

The reason I send you so many asks is because you've just...built such a nice feeling that anything can be discussed, and it's never too niche or cringy or boring, and that's really relieving and amazing.

I'm sure you (along with many others) have realized by now, but I suffer from....really bad anxiety, both social anxiety and just in general, and it very often gets in the way of my life. Because of this and past experiences, I'm always very scared and hesitant to talk about my interests and my thoughts on anything.

But every time I've sent you an ask, even if it was, in retrospect, probably really annoying to read through the one hundred "sorry"s and "my bad"s, you've always been nothing but kind and interested in my ideas, and that was just...so surprising. Because I never really knew anyone who was willing to talk about anything, and it was just...really amazing to meet someone who was! Especially because I love and am interested in so many different things and kind of need someone to bounce ideas at. And it was really cool to see someone that was unashamed of their own interests and thoughts, but didn't make others feel bad for having different ideas.

Every time I send you an ask, you always have something interesting to say back. Something I hadn't thought of or considered, or a query that would make me rethink my own theories, or just a very well-thought-out answer to a question. I remember sending in tons of asks about the wings AU before it was released, and writing those was probably the highlight of my day, because I knew you'd take them and run with the ideas, and do your best to match my energy, and I was really grateful for that. And you were always willing to dig deeper, to think "but what if there was more?" and that's just...incredible! I don't have any other word for it!

I love sending you asks because you don't dismiss an idea or deem it as stupid, and you're just...such a kind and wonderful person that can make even the most obscure subject infinitely more interesting than before, and you never fail to make me consider things again, to expand my thoughts and views, and I'm really grateful for that.

So, because it should definitely be said by now, thank you!

And, well, that's why I love sending you asks :]

- pyro

there is no timeline so there's no way to be late! and I'm answering this a few days after you sent this, so if you believe yourself to be late then we can both be late together :D. you are fully welcome to participate if you want to (which you said you did)! it was mostly just a random question I had because i'm just as analytical with myself as I am with keeper, and knowing how other perceive and think of me is helpful for that--and I was curious about how i'd aquired so many asks so quickly, and then you all just turned it into complimenting quil hours for some reason !! (but on to your ask before I get even more distracted)

(note from a quil who has answered all of this: got very long so that's why there's a readmore! i love you /p)

this means so much to me--specifically your use of "built" because I do try pretty hard to maintain a positive atmosphere and welcome everyone in and treat everyone with the same attention. it didn't just fall into place, i try to be encouraging to everyone and support all the amazing work--art, writing, ideas, etc--I see from people. (note: i've been wanting to do a thing where I ask for fic/art/other recommendations from others (can be friends or their own) so i can go through and reblog a bunch of them with comments and the like, I just want to get through more of my asks before I start something like that). But you're right--nothing is too niche! there's so many details in the story it's impossible for one person to notice anything, so people bringing up the obscure and their own thoughts makes the story richer and more fleshed out for everyone else! and i think it's really cool to just see what other people focus on (like I said, my analysis isn't limited to characters, but I'm not like dissecting you all to understand each of you in a creepy way or anything. I just like to get a better sense of someone so I can respond in a way more tailored to them when we interact)

anxiety can really suck, so as someone who also has anxiety i am giving you a comforting hug if you'd like one. it genuinely impacts everything you do and think about, rewriting how you experience life. a single, inconsequential experience to someone else can literally change major aspects of how we think, which makes interactions so scary sometimes. i remember things people said years ago and still base my actions around them, but those people have absolutely no recollection of ever saying it, but just the fear of having done something wrong once permanently altered my thinking. (this is not to make this about me, I'm just trying to show I understand by sharing an experience of my own).

reading through all your "i'm sorry"s and "my bad"s wasn't annoying and never will be. you have never had anything to apologize for, and I know that sometimes you feel you need to enter a conversation and first apologize for being there, but I'm thrilled to have you here and always love seeing you in my inbox. I don't know how to articulate this properly, but I'm going to try. i saw your apologies and your apprehension as...a puzzle? that's absolutely not the right word but I can't think of the right one so please let me explain (I don't mean to imply you're like something to be solved or a problem in any way. words can be difficult and I'm trying to describe something very intangible rn, so I hope this doesn't sound bad). I didn't see it as annoying (you're never annoying), I saw it like it was something to work through, and while it's not my job or anything to help other's with their personal problems, it was like if I could just provide one space where I could encourage you (not just you, but anyone) as a friend to try shifting your language and start thinking of yourself more positively, then I wanted to give that.

because I am interested in your ideas! and I want to be kind and welcoming to you! but I also want you to be kind to yourself, so any impact I've had to give anyone a safer, less scary space is really cool. I don't know if that made sense, but I'm not trying to talk down to you or anything or be like I'm this high and mighty figure harboring lost souls or something, just that connection is important and I like being there for people. kinda worried that sounded bad because it feels worded strange but I'm trying to reciprocate and say i appreciate you and am happy to talk about anything!

i love bouncing ideas back and forth and you are more than welcome to say anything and everything you're thinking about. talking to you is always an absolutely joy and I get so excited when you send me an ask and when you're reading my response, because it often feels like this like...buzz? like we're just vibing on this frequency and it makes it so much fun to throw ideas back and forth and just listen to each other talk. i am very glad to have surprised you and met you! I don't know a lot of people like myself either, so having someone like you interact with me and just go all out on these little things and what we personally like about different parts of the so much fun. a lot of the other people I know irl feel like they just scratch the surface, they say things just to get credit for it and to appear like they know what they're talking about while ignoring all these other things that have such an impact, so it's amazing to have found someone else who looks at everything and anything like I do. my brain really is "a little bit of everything all of the time" so knowing you have so many different interests too is really cool. i am giving you an internet high five and pretending you aren't so far away.

I spent so much of my life being quiet when I had so many thoughts, so now that I have this kind of outlet I just! want to say everything I can! i want to look at everything from every perspective possible! the world is a huge collection of things tied together and I love following the strings to find the connected pieces! but I think that's a way of approaching the world not a lot of people share (I could be wrong), so it's really cool to hear you think my thought process is interesting!! my brain is practically composed entirely of questions. any subject at any time of the day and nearly all of my thoughts are just wanting to know more and trying to understand things, so having that opportunity to ask further questions and just learn things (about what other's thing, how things work, etc) is so much fun. you might've seen me ask some questions of other's in a few of the asks I answer, but those barely scratch the surface of just how many I have. my handle is in_quil_sitive (inquisitve) on nearly every social media platform (except for this one) for a reason.

I remember some of your asks from before the wings au was published, too. those were absolutely incredible, and I got a rush of excitement every time I saw you sent another. those were the the highlight of my week, too!! your enthusiasm and excitement for something I hadn't even posted yet gave me so much motivation to continue and you helped me think through so many future ideas and consider things from new perspectives. i know i specifically wrote that you inspired one chapter in the notes, but you've had an impact on every single chapter of this story/ it wouldn't be what it is without you, and I mean that with complete sincerity. you were the one who made me think "what if there was more" so I could make this au even better and work towards something bigger. I just have so many thoughts about everything all of the time, I can't go more than a few minutes without being distracted by a different train of thought, but knowing there was someone who would want to hear all the weird, disjointed ideas i'd strung together and composed into a more cohesive format was so cool. there's just so much to think about!!

I probably sound repetitive at this point but I love answering your asks because you're so receptive to the way i say things and it's like you're actually listening and want to hear what I specifically have to say, not just the general ideas. you want to know my unique, personalized opinions and perspectives and don't just dismiss them when they're not what you expect to hear or aren't generic. you're incredibly kind, too, I hope you know. I love the description of how I can "make even the most obscure subject infinitely more interesting than before." that is such a meaningful compliment to me. I just keep thinking about this line over and over again and it just...it really means a lot. because you're saying it's me that interests you and not just what I talk about. I could talk about anything and you'd still want to interact with me and that's so fucking nice. I hope you know the same goes for you. we can challenge each other's thinking together and make things even deeper and more complex before together <33.

thank you for being here and being my friend, pyro. talking to you is always one of the highlights of my day and gives me a very positive feeling that I carry around for a while. I do this thing sometimes where I film myself to later observe my behaviors in the middle of intense emotions to understand myself better (back to that whole analysis thing again), but it's not just negative things, it's also when I'm really excited or pleased with something and jumping around and stimming and all that, and some of those are from when I interact with you. that might sound a little weird but I mean it positively, as in talking with you makes me ecstatic.

I have said. so many things. so I will stop (for now). but I really appreciate having you in my life <33

#this response is 1757 words long i--#i have written shorter essays for my college classes #pyro this better convince you that i care about you #you're one of my favorite people #just in general #i really value our friendship #and hope none of this sounded weird #i tried to articulate it but some of the concepts didn't want to become words #so please know this is meant to be loving and supportive of you #in all aspects #i wrote so much and still didn't say everything I wanted to #you should be asleep when I answer this so hopefully this is something nice to wake up to #still don't feel i've articulated myself fully #but I have tried #worried about that puzzle part but I'm trying to say I want this to be like a safe space of kinds #where I can support you and encourage you to stop apologizing when you don't need to #and do that without judging you #ah anxious about that #if you cannot tell I don't want to mess this up and am worried I will #hnnnng #if I said something weird please let me know so i can fix it #quil's queries #pyrokinetic-loser #nonsie love #long post

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staysuki · 3 years

Note

now i feel kinda guilty for throwing felix under the bus so quickly 💀🥲 honestly the thought of felix and bibi grouping together is thrilling to me.. i'm even growing more and more keen to the idea of candy being felix or smth, even tho that would mean he's lying about "his" art (hopefully in that case, he would have a valid reason for that because it's bugging me that "candy" says he loves that he's pursuing arts) or at least even tho shady, that he'll turn out to be a good character 👀 he's growing onto me, and that has me questioning my morals a little bit, i just feel like there is a huge possibility of some huge backstory from his side... and pLS stop making him look so mysterious, it's getting kinda hot 😂😳 (okay i need to stop i'm sorry i'll take myself out) and let me tell you that I LOVED that even tho y/n snitched on seungmin and hyunjin (deserved), that seungmin kinda stood up for her (?) in a sense... like that except hyunjin, they don't have history with her and he justified that thingy about jailtime and even before said that he actually pushed her buttons too much.. it was kinda sweet if you look at it from a certain angle. and i'm on my "💕🌸🥰 jisung agenda 💕🌸🥰" and forever will, he seems so pure and genuine, so pls don't stomp on my high hopes, i love this sweet boi. somebody hurt him and i'll hunt them down 🔪🙂 (jkjkjk) AND i feel like we're bunch of detectives throwing theories left and right 😂i'm mostly trying to catch up on the other asks / theories but it's getting kinda hard 😳 -🦄

jumping back on the felix train huh 🙈✨. and felix as candy(???) hm 🤔 maybe he does secretly have an eye for art who knows. it’ll be interesting to see felix’s character development yeah? he’s so unknown and unpredictable right now, hence why so many people are afraid of him 🤧. AND PLEASE UNI ANON 😭 THE RED FLAGS ARE WAVING AT YOU 🚩🚩🚩🚩🚩🚩🚩

we stan kim seungmin and his morals. wonpil was right, he DID raise the boys right 😤💓 (minus the drunk driving, selling weed, and probably other illegal stuff he’s mixed in, idk).

jisung is advocating for world peace rn, and yeah, everyone’s loving him, which is v v sweet 🤧. i’m glad i added him in.

fun fact: jisung wasn’t supposed to be in this fic, his character is supposed to just be filled by jake but i thought, why not? and i’m glad i did! so many people loved him, he’s the perfect balancer and refresher in comparison to the entire friend group 💀

and yes, i love reading all the theories!! it’s so interesting even though i feel like an evil bond villain doing a witch laugh whenever i read some of em bc i’m the only one who truly knows what’s going on HSHWJSHS. i’m honestly so excited to share my whole plot breakdown and writing process once everything is finished 💓

just go through #slc talks on the tags if you haven’t yet, just so you don’t have to scroll thru my entire account, cheers! 💓

#slc talks #unicorn anon #anon: 🦄

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fellhellion · 3 years

Note

can you make a rec list of your favorite fe3h fics? if that's alright?

OF COURSE I WOULD LOVE TO <3 always happy to give my fave works a shoutout <33333

Though mind u this is going to be a LOT so ill pop them under a cut

from the heart in exile

TLDR: platonic hubert edelgard fic that haunts me. It’s extremely good with really well written character voices and focuses on these two characters trying to find out who they are beyond the war with their friends refusing to leave them behind

Summary:

You can’t speak just yet to whether time—and age? experience? not that war or rulership have given you much of the latter, at least in the area of gardening—has made your thumbs any less brown, but the house in the Oghma Mountains is surrounded by so many growing things it hardly seems to matter. It sits at the edge of a forest, on the gentle lower slopes, and the people in the nearest town had all smiled to speak of it when they pointed the way for Hubert, the day you arrived. A number of them were old enough to remember what it had been like, years ago, in the warm and golden before, and to insist that it had not changed in the ways that mattered. It was still full of light. The air still smelled green.

In which Edelgard keeps a garden, Hubert learns to fly, and those they leave behind refuse to be left behind.

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Watchtower

TLDR: platonic fic and amazing sylvain character study. Like genuinely one of the best i’ve ever read. If you’re someone who really wanted a deeper exploration of Sylvain’s feelings about Dimitri this fic is for u.

Summary:

When Sylvain is six and a half and climbs to the top of a tower with no one’s hand in his, he realizes that each and every one of the people he loves has been born as a gift to something else. Dimitri was born for Faerghus, and Felix was born for Dimitri. Glenn was born for the royal family, and Ingrid was born for Galatea and for Glenn. He realizes, too, that what they’re for decides their future. Dimitri will lead them into a better world. Felix will guide his path, and Glenn will protect his life, and Ingrid will bind her future to theirs.

And Sylvain, who was born for the border, will stand in a watchtower. He will see the enemy before it comes, and he will keep Dimitri and Felix and Ingrid and Glenn safe.

Dimitri reappears after five years. Sylvain knows it's his role to fix the mess they're in, but he doesn't know how.

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little light

TLDR: really good exploration of flayn and seteth’s relationship (+ with his wife and flayn’s mother) pre canon (also post canon if i remember right) just a really good if heartbreaking family fic

Summary:

"She is beautiful, and she is perfect. It is foolish to say so, because the goddess herself says perfect beings cannot exist - but Cichol knows now she must have been wrong, because his daughter is perfect. They name her Cethleann. In the old tongue, it means 'light.'"

Cichol, Cethleann, what they lost, and who they became.

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conjure the wind, ease my mind

TLDR: this author in general writes FANTASTIC work so pls check out their whole repertoire. a platonic fic between holst and claude w an exploration of claude’s past that’s just so good....found brotherhood i am WEEPING

Summary:

“I’d like to know what’s wrong. I’d like to help if I can.”

Calculating green eyes lock onto Holst’s own, but this time they’re laced with something a little bit like resignation

Many people call Duke Riegan a liar, but Holst feels like he knows the young man a bit better than that. To call him a liar is wrong, you see, because all Claude has ever really done is master the art of giving up as little of the truth as possible. He keeps truth close, treats it like a valuable commodity.

“I have three brothers,” he says. “Half-brothers.”

***

Claude won’t spar with Holst and Holst wants to know why.

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my fellow passerine

TLDR: same author as before and just...god this fic is so good. a platonic exploration of the relationship between Claude and Cyril. This fic has it all: found brotherhood, worldbuilding about Almyra, Claude character study, CYRIL character study. it’s just fantastic

Summary:

Then the Alliance delegation shows up, and their offering strolls through the gates of the monastery like he already owns the place.

A reminder, for those who need it: Cyril is not an idiot. He has good eyes and he uses them.

An observation, for those who want it: The Golden Deer house leader is Almyran.

Cyril knows a lot more than he lets on, Claude is far less covert than he thinks he is, and messing with the guy your parents told you was a possibly-unkillable demon-prince isn’t usually supposed to earn you a lasting friendship but hey… life is already pretty damn weird.

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Autotomy

TLDR: god this ferdibert fic just fucking...destroys me. i cannot get through it without crying at least twice and usually more. it’s basically a CF canon divergence with a heavy HEAVY exploration of ferdinand and hubert’s perspectives towards usefulness and how abelist thinking affects that in their efforts to find Shambala after Ferdinand loses his sight from one of Hubert’s experimental spells. All while falling in love. this fic is VERY fucking heavy, please mind the tags, it’s amazing but it’s subject matter is something you need to be very aware of. Also i would highly reccomend reading the prequel to this fic as it provides some critical context to Hubert’s actions that you don’t get through Ferdinand’s flawed pov. Basically this author is a master of character perspective.

Summary:

Ferdinand von Aegir's war record ends in 1182. The war does not.

Or, blind man's bluff.

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Coming of Age

TLDR: same author as before and god...just my FAVOURITE ferdinand character study. Takes place within the period Byleth is away. I don’t want to spoil anything but it’s incredible. Mines the fantastic character drama hook between Edelgard and Ferdinand that canon DIDNT rip

Summary:

Ferdinand was a general. In theory. Edelgard had promised him continued command of his battalion, and a general needed a certain measure of wealth to supply his horses, his servants, his armor and rations and lodgings and, she’d promised.

But his father sat rotting in a cell, or worse, and it could be nothing more than a fable they thought him simple enough to believe. What did promises matter?

When the house of Aegir collapses around him, Ferdinand struggles to forge a path forward. He quickly discovers he can't manage it alone -- and neither, perhaps, can Edelgard.

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Another Life

TLDR: same author AGAIN (can u tell theyre my favourite fjsdhfk). Ferdibert fic, a man loving his partner and trying to figure out the best way to support them as they silently wrestle with questions about their gender identity is something that can be so PERSONAL and make u CRY god. also dark flier hubert my beloved.

Summary:

Ferdinand notices things. He cannot say what he notices, precisely, because he has no one to ask, and if he were to ask Hubert it would damn well result in every questioned moment up and vanishing forever behind a new wall of prickly austerity. Ferdinand cannot risk that. The things that he notices stick in his chest, and he thinks only, but.

Hubert wrestles with unasked questions; Ferdinand wrestles with a pegasus.

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Beneath the Sheets of Paper Lies My Truth

TLDR: Dimilix fic in my FAVOURITE fucking format of secondary in game historical sources exploring their relationship in retrospective.

Summary:

It was said that Duke Fraldarius’s grief at King Dimitri’s death was more potent than even the queen’s—but said by whom, and how, and why?

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A Fair Day’s Work

TLDR: Post CF Canon ferdibert where Hubert and Ferdinand’s overworked aides desperately try to get them together so they’ll be too busy being uhhhh AMOUROUS to give them so much work. Very much a romantic comedy with very fun OCs as our protags.

Summary:

“I may have some coffee in the place for you,” said Prime Minister Aegir. “Let me show you how much better I have become at brewing it to your taste.”

“If you insist,” said Minister Vestra but he sounded pleased. To Delarivier, who had literally made it her profession to attune herself to his tone (usually ranging from sort-of-murder-y to extremely-murder-y), Minister Vestra sounded very pleased indeed.

Ferdinand and Hubert's long-suffering aides figure out a way to work fewer hours.

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Roost

TLDR: Dimilix post AM Canon with some pre canon moments. Basically an exploration of the complexity of their relationship with bird symbolism and extra Holy Kingdom lore. Gifting ur lover a vulture is something that can be so personal fksdhfsjkd

Summary:

Dimitri makes an affirmative noise. Then he takes a breath, voice leveling out into what Felix had long ago dubbed his 'future king voice', all steady explanation: “Long ago, the saying fledged right along with the nobles' and royal family's love of hawking, and it has remained a common phrase from one generation to the next. As adviser to the king, the duke is meant to be regal and strong, even deadly when required, from his place at the king's side. To always act as the most piercing, watchful eyes over the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus and her sovereign."

He looks over to Felix as soon as his mouth snaps shut on the final word, as always seeking approval on his recitations.

Felix tilts his head, trying to look unimpressed. “I like eagles.”

A hand automatically comes up to cover the lower half of Dimitri's face, muffling the inarticulate sound of a snort of amusement. “That is good, since you are to be mine.”

***

They say an eagle watches over Fhirdiad.

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A faint and faraway sound

TLDR: Ferdibert with an excellent Hubert centric character study....just so good...makes me warm and fuzzy...the mutual pining and ROMANCE of it all

Summary:

Hubert learns to be a person, with a lot of help and complication along the way.

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In golden light

TLDR: A really REALLY good ferdibert fic with ferdinand centric pov that focuses on him reflecting on his life as he prepares the Aegir house to become a boarding school. Ferdinand sibling exploration is ABOUND here and it’s great

Summary:

When his family's summer home at Lake Aegir is set to be converted to a boarding academy, Ferdinand pays it one last visit and contemplates his complicated relationship with family, love, and legacy.

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one three four three four zero

TLDR: the fic that actually got me into dimilix. VERY heavy character study and you NEED to mind both the general fic tags and the content warnings the author lists for each chapter but it’s incredible. Takes a very familiar trope and just. slams you in the face with over 60k words of amazing character study.

Summary:

“How are you going to get the One-Eyed Demon of Garreg Mach, the Boar Prince of Faerghus, smuggled past Dukedom soldiers? What plan could you possibly have to get a creature that incapable of even pretending it isn’t a bloodthirsty beast into Dominic without getting caught?”

The Professor gives him one of their steady, unreadable stares. They definitely do not and could not possibly have answered him, “You’re going to pretend to be married to him.”

or, How to Pretend to be Married When One of You Can't Stop Hallucinating and the Other One Uses Hostility to Cope

#Anonymous #ask games #anon #this is so long SORRY LMAO

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fandom-star · 3 years

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Writer’s Tag

@its-all-ineffable tagged me to do this, but it’s a long one so I’m doing it in a different post! Thank you very much! I love doing these so much!

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How many works do you have on AO3?

164 (possibly 165 by the weekend if I post the Witcher one I finished the other day)

What's your total AO3 word count?

181468

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

It’s Okay (Merlin: Merthur) - 569 Kudos Pulchra (Night At The Museum: Jedtavius) [NSFW] - 286 Kudos A Father’s Wisdom (Merlin: Merthur: Uther-centric) - 270 Kudos Crush (MCU Spider-Man: PeterNed) - 262 Kudos Comfort Blankets For Sleepy Gods (MCU Loki Series: Lokius) - 245

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

Sometimes. I try to if I’m not in a non-social mood. Mostly, if I start off on my page before reading any fic and see that I have something in my inbox and it turns out to be a comment on my fic, then I’m more likely to reply to it. Idk why it works like that. Otherwise, it’s kinda touch and go whether or not I’ll reply to something, you’ve got a 50/50 chance, but I always read and appreciate every one that I get.

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

*Looks at my abundance of angst fics* There’s... a surprising amount of angst without happy endings in my repertoire. Um. I’ll give you three that I vividly remember. (All of these are Star Trek and Spones) Written In The Stars - This is one of my really early works, and was gonna have a sequel that made it have a less angsty ending, but I could never get into the rhythm of writing it. I won’t spoil it, but this is probably the only fic I’ve written where Sarek is a straight-up dick. Battlefield - As the title suggests, there’s war with no real context. And major character death. It’s sad. I genuinely made people cry with this. I am both proud and apologetic of that. Unreal - This is probably one of my more complex concepts, and I’m really proud of it. Features ooc Spock with contextual reasons I won’t spoil, defensive/protective McCoy and major character death of a sort.

What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending

This is kind of difficult, bc while I have excessively written angsty endings (see: above answer) I do usually write happy endings, and I can’t remember all 160 fic endings left over, and even then it’s difficult to rank them by happiest. I like Nutcase {Murdoch Mysteries: Watts-centric) a lot, oh and also Blame It On Me (Star Trek Pricard: Hughnor) which is angst with a happy ending (and has amazing art accompanying it). There are many others with happy endings, but like I said I have no idea how to rank them by “happiest”.

Do you write crossovers? If so, What is the craziest one you’ve ever written?

I don’t really, but I have written one as a request that I really really enjoyed. A Good Day is ThorBruce and is set in the DS9 era of Star Trek, in which Thor is a captain and Bruce is his chief science officer. It’s really adorable and features sleepy, over-worked Bruce and a very characteristically happy Thor.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

No, I don’t think so, unless you count unsolicited advice I felt I couldn’t turn down on ff.net when I was struggling to write Uhura. I’m kind of surprised I haven’t tbh (not that I’m complaining) since I do write for some very popular fandoms and ships (although, conversely, also some very niche fandoms and ships).

Do you write smut? If so what kind?

I write it but have only ever posted it thee, four times if you count the exploratory one I posted under a pseudonym that wasn’t really that smutty. I’m hoping to get the confidence up to post some of what I’ve written tho, bc I do really like hat I’ve managed to do with some of it.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not as far as I’m aware.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes, I have! A lovely person found my fic 1967, which is probably one of my favourite Spones fics I’ve written, based around the UK’s decriminalisation (well, partial) of homosexuality, and traslated it into Hungarian here. I’ve not been able to check it out, due to not knowing a thing in the language (tho I could probably ask my friend to) but the translator seemed really lovely, so I trust them to have done a good job.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Not something I posted, but before I even started posting fanfic, me and my best friend really randomly started writing a Star Trek TNG x Star Wars crossover whenever they were at my house. We gave up on it after about a year and never wrote much for it, but it was... it was something.

What’s your all-time favourite ship?

This changes all the time with my hyperfixations! One that will always be in my heart is obviously Spones, my og ship and within my special interest. Currently I’m obsessed with The Witcher so I’ve got Geraskier on the mind but who knows when that might change!

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

In terms of fanfic I don’t really have any that I don’t think I’ll ever finish. I have an original script that I started writing months ago but only got about three scenes into and haven’t touched since bc I don’t actually have a plot for it.

What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue; Is situations one? That sounds like a good and fancy way of saying AUs; Finding synonyms should be one, that’s like half my search history

What are your writing weaknesses?

Description; Despite my talent of finding synonyms I feel like I do repeat words a lot; Planning and outlining, I just don’t do it - it works for me tho.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I’m pretty sure the only times I’ve really done it is for Jedtavius (having Oct speak in Latin occasionally) and I might have done it once or twice with Spock speaking Vulcan, both times it’s mostly terms of endearment or Oct wanting to be romantic. Idk, I don’t really care about reading dialogue in other languages as long as there’s a translation somewhere in the work or I can easily pick it up or search it. Just do whatever, it’s your writing. As long as you do it well and it makes contextual sense, I don’t really care.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Unposted: Star Trek: The Next Gen Posted: Sherlock (I actually recently reread my first ever posted fic, it’s a long haul (just over 45k), but if anyone ever wants to see a work where my writing visibly improves lemme know and I’ll email the pdf to you)

What’s your favourite fic you’ve written?

Why would you do this to me??? I love most of my fics!!! I’m just gonna link a few here cause I’ve been doing this for an hour now and it would definitely take me an hour to choose just one! The Relationship Series - modern AU, autistic Spock (written by a self-projecting autistic writer), there’s angst spattered about but is especially prominent in part 6, I just really love this series Promises You Can’t Keep - Loki spoilers, I love this bc it’s based on “what if my finale theory was right instead of being debunked three minutes into the episode”, definitely angst with a hopeful ending I love all of my Charite At War fics, but I’m gonna link my 20 years post-canon fic Grow Old With Me and my modern AU You Give Me Your Light - both have some heavy topics (post-canon is set in 1960s East Germany, modern AU topics are tagged) but I adore both with my entire heart You’ll Never Burn - Merlin/Merthur, again kinda heavy (not as heavy as the Charite ones in my opinion) but short and everything is tagged I love all of my Babylon 5 fics but Secret Rendezvous will always have a special place in my heart. It’s very sweet and essentially follows Vir and Lennier trying to navigate coming out about their relationship to their ambassadors I also recommend all the of the fics I’ve already linked in the post ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Now for the hard part - tagging!

@esperata @tallysgreatestfan @iwritesometimes @marlinspirkhall and any other writer mutuals I’ve likely forgotten but I’ve already spent WAY too long writing this post asfdhdskjdgha So I apologise, but if you wanna do it, absolutely go for it, this was so much fun and really made me realise how much I’ve achieved in 4.5 years.

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rainbowsky · 3 years

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Final round-up of fan fic asks

I've gotten a few more interesting responses to the fan fic discussion so I'm going to round them all up here. This will be my final post on the topic until/unless there's a dramatic new development, or a particularly notable response I want to highlight. Thanks to everyone who brought their thoughts and experiences to the topic. I hope everyone at least feels heard.

The biggest piece of advice that I would like to offer is for everyone to focus on what they love rather than what they hate. If we all did that, the world would be a better place. Alongside that, I'd like to remind everyone to please support authors whose work you like. It's so important. Give them a kudos, give them a nice comment, recommend their work to others. You never know what kind of grief and harassment they are dealing with to bring you these great stories, and our support means a lot.

This is in reference to previous posts here and here.

Anonymous asked:

With regard to fandom and fan fic issue, my years of experience being part of very large fandoms has led me to believe that big accounts are v important in facilitating and enforcing the general consensus of the whole fandom. Unless there will be big accs who'll remind everyone of being respectful & just not being a dick over other's preferences, nothing will change.

This is also the reason why I think certain solo fandoms have adapted weird and twisted narratives as their general fandom story because no big acc has tried to police them & and say hey pls be rational. Whether we like it or not, in a place where how far voices, ideas, tweets, posts get heard is based on the number of followers you have, big accs will have the power and influence in creating/curating/shifting the narratives.

So, if you want to know why your/our fandom thinks like this in general, look at what big accs are tweeting/posting, look at what ideas & values they follow, look at their preferences or how strongly they react to certain situations. it's taxing and toxic for big accs given the nature of social media these days, but it's also the reality of system, the more followers/audience you have, the more influence you will have.

So to anyone reading this I hope we all practice more restraint and reflection before we post anything. Remember that words, no matter what medium you write it in, will always carry weight.

So true. It is easy - even for myself who spends a fair chunk of time answering people's asks - to forget that people can sometimes be impressionable and what we say can influence people whether that's our intent or not. I get used to thinking of myself as a regular guy just doing my own thing when sometimes my thoughts and words go well beyond where I initially posted them.

I think it's important for us to be careful what we say, and it's equally important to be careful what we take from what other people say. Especially when it comes to big claims. Always get a second, third, fourth opinion and don't be afraid to ask for clarification if something doesn't sit right or sounds confusing.

It's also important to reflect on how our words and actions might affect other people's experience of fandom, and err on the side of 'live and let live' wherever possible. It's great to have our own preferences and to champion them, but we should try to do so in a way that leaves space for other people and perspectives.

The more unique perspectives and the more friendly, open dialog there is, the healthier the community will be as a whole.

There's nothing wrong with encouraging and guiding growth in the particular areas we are interested in, as long as it doesn't step on, oppress or attack those who are peacefully enjoying something different.

Anonymous 2 asked: bjyx fans attacking gdgdbaby for including zsww/lsfy dynamics in an event named bjyx then turning right around and attacking the zsww/lsfy event organizer for excluding bjyx? god, can you hear my facepalm and sigh of resignation and incredulity from over there? im genuinely not surprised that they're trying to drive an entire part of the fandom out by disgusting them (and me) with these immature tactics. i believe what im about to say next will sound quite bait-y and i respect your decision 1/?

should you choose not to post this. but i do know that it is not only me, in fact there are many out there, that is of this opinion. we just dont talk about it on twitter to avoid the potential mess it will bring lol. okay, here goes nothing. (do note that im talking about the majority here, not every single person is like this) so bjyx fans tend to be cishet females whereas zsww/lsfy fans are more diverse in terms of age and gender, and most of them are part of the queer community too 2/?

i would like to clarify that most of these zsww/lsfy fans are not dynamic exclusive (in the sense that they are friendly and interact with all ggdd fans) they just prefer to "identify" themselves as zsww/lsfy fans (on twitter specifically) just to form a distinction from bjyx fans who mostly are dynamic exclusive (as in; they do not consume non-bjyx content, and straightup refuse to interact with non-bjyx fans, often blocking them). as a result, id say that the zsww/lsfy communiy is way more 3/?

mature and respectful (after all, they're mostly queer people talking about a queer ship) whereas many problems in this fandom, such as the homophobia, adamantly insisting on "drawing lines" between dynamics, stem from the bjyx exclusive fans, comprised of cishet females who "may not know better". so, it is of no surprise to me that they're resorting to these immature tactics of calling gg unsavory names, and organizing retaliatory events with controversial topics in an attempt to "purify". 4/4

I trust that you have arrived at that theory through your own experience and observation. I haven't personally spent much time immersed in this stuff so I can't claim to have any real insight or expertise. If you say that's your experience of it, then at the very least that's how you've seen things up to this point.

I just want to say that I think we should always be careful about making assumptions about people's age, gender/gender identity, etc.

There are plenty of good reasons to avoid doing that; because those assumptions could be very wrong, because those assumptions are often laced with ageism, sexism, etc., because those assumptions - even when correct - might not be an accurate basis for the conclusions we draw.

But the primary reason I recommend avoiding those type of assumptions is because anything that enables us to clump a group of people together in our minds like that will tend to make them easier to demonize and dehumanize. They are no longer individuals who are each responsible for their own unique perspectives, they are now 'the X group' who is known for 'A B C series of easily attackable ideas or behaviors'.

If we attribute undesirable traits and behaviors to a group of people we feel opposed to in some way, that makes us feel more righteous and justified in behaving unfairly toward them, dismissing their humanity and warring with them. It's just risky behavior to engage in, even when it's well-intentioned.

There might actually be some truth to what you're saying. It could very well be that most of these people are young, inexperienced, heteronormative, etc. but if that's the case then we should try to use those traits to better understand and empathize rather than to better dismiss and discredit.

Just my two cents on that.

It can be really frustrating dealing with what feels like other people attacking us, trying to oppress us, etc. - especially when there are more of them than there are of us. In my experience the best solutions to that sort of problem are generally the ones that focus on what we are doing and want to do rather than what they are doing that we don't want them to do.

As I am always preaching, we can't control what other people say, do or think. The only thing we have any control over is what we say, do and think (and how we respond to what they say, do and think).

I have found in my experience that the moment I step out of a conflict mindset and instead step into a problem-solving mindset, everything starts to come together. I feel better, my outlook is more positive, I can begin to see solutions and allies rather than problems and enemies, and most of all, I become more focused on what I am doing than what others are doing.

So I would recommend everyone who is invested in resolving these conflicts focus on that. "How can we best showcase and encourage the types of stories we enjoy?" instead of "How can we stop these other people from doing things we dislike?"

Anonymous 3 asked:

Hello again! It’s anon #3 from the fanfic post. I really do appreciate reading your thoughts on various issues like this, so thank you for always taking time to write in depth. As for supporting without going to war, the simplest way has always been to just show appreciation for the creators, hype them up. Kudos are the easiest way on ao3 but comments in addition are great. This goes for all content—art, fics, vids..etc. Creators love to see and read how people react to their content. Sharing is also great, fic recs are very helpful, just be cautious with art and reposting though. Hope this helps a bit!

Thanks so much, Anon. I think this is excellent advice. And it's true that appreciation is great, but helping to expand the audience is also great. Recommending stories, pointing people to the pages/websites of artists we like (as opposed to reposting), sharing our own ideas and approaches, encouraging people to try new things... all of this helps build healthier communities.

And here's another one: WRITE! DRAW! CREATE!

I urge anyone with creative interests or talents to bring their voices to the community because we all can benefit from hearing from you.

Thanks again everyone for sharing your thoughts on this issue. I hope that over time we can all work in positive ways to improve the situation.

I think this subject has been well-covered now so I'm going to retire it for the time being. If anyone still feels they want to discuss it further please feel free to message me privately. Thanks.

#fan fiction #fandom reflections #ask

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tren-fraszka · 3 years

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Fic in a Box 2021 Exchange Letter

Dear creator,

Thank you for taking your time to check my requests. I know my requests can sound a bit tricky, but please don’t be discouraged. I wish you will have good time writing first and foremost!

My AO3 is Tren, if you wish to check it out.

Likes: comedy, casefics, canon compliants, AUs, time loops, bodyswaps, roleswaps, “being hoisted by your own petard” plotlines, snark, pettiness, rivals, enemies to friends to lovers, violence, friendships, and character bonding,

DNW: explicit sex (makeouts and fade to black is okay), A/B/O, mpreg, rape depicted as positive (so no “it’s okay, because the other person enjoyed it/it was what they truly wanted”), trans headcanons, soulmate AUs, stories ending with surrender to fate/destiny, fourth wall breaking in canons where that doesn’t occur, character has cancer or other real-life terminal disease AU, word “queerplatonic”.

Also, I included what ships I’m okay with in each fandom. Please do not include any ships that aren’t canon and I have not allowed in those sections (if you feel really strongly about a ship I haven’t mentioned, you can always ask through mods just in case).

On a separate, but similar note, I’m okay with OCs as long as they don’t overshadow the characters I requested.

Additionally, while I almost never request fanart as possible medium, because I prefer my main gift to be fic, I would be very okay with receiving fanart treats. Also, feel free to peruse my old letters if you get your hands on them. I never stop being interested in fandoms, and if I requested something once I will still want it in the future.

REQUESTS

Medium opt-ins (they are the same for all the fandoms):

Length Opt-In: Drabble Length Opt-In: Drabble Series Medium Opt In: Any - Any In-Universe Documents Medium Opt In: Art - Drawn - Comics Medium Opt In: Art - Drawn - Fanart Medium Opt In: Art - Excerpts from a Character's Sketchbook Medium Opt In: Art - Tarot Card Medium Opt In: Illustrated Text (Art & Writing) - Bureaucratic Paperwork Medium Opt In: Illustrated Text (Art & Writing) - Excerpts from a Journal/Notebook/Sketchbook Medium Opt In: Illustrated Text (Art & Writing) - Field Report Medium Opt In: Illustrated Text (Art & Writing) - Mission Report Medium Opt In: Illustrated Text (Art & Writing) - In-Universe Scientific Documents Medium Opt In: Writing - Unreliable Narrator Medium Opt In: Writing - Non-Linear Narrative

MARIMASHITA! IRUMA-KUN

I read new manga chapters as they get translated so feel free to incorporate anything from the manga that’s available in English.

Kirio Amy/Suzuki Iruma

There are many good ships with Iruma, but this one just has a lot things I like. I love enemy ships with both sides being way too emotionally invested into each other so this was inevitable. I love how this relationship starts as this really wholesome friendship and school festival preparation, except Kirio turns out to be a bit messed up and wants to blow up everyone. But then they both accept the outcome and go on with their lives still thinking about each other. Iruma goes through a lot of trouble to keep the club operating even though Kirio has been pretty much expelled. And then Kirio is now obsessed with Iruma as his anthitesis and perfect enemy.

I’m okay with the potential story happening at any point in the canon. I would love both a story set before the festival while Kirio is still hiding his true colors or a story set after it. Maybe Iruma runs into Kirio somewhere after he escapes prison and instead of calling an adult, he tries to stop Kirio from causing trouble on his own. As for pre-festival story. Maybe some upperclassmen steal important parts from the club and Iruma and Kirio set out to get them back.

Naberius Callego & Suzuki Iruma

I love Callego for being a much better take on Snape than original Snape ever was. The second the series made Callego Iruma’s familiar I knew this was about to get good. And it was. I love how Callego slowly warms up to Iruma, even if he is still allergic to his and Sullivan’s antics. I love that Callego is actually a competent teacher who cares about his students, but at the same time he would rather eat a whole lemon than admit it out loud.

For prompts, maybe Sullivan ends up having an important business and Opera isn’t available so he dumps looking after Iruma on Callego for a few days. Or Iruma is struggling with studying since so many things are new for him, so Callego ends up forced to help him catch up with the material (if you are following manga inclusion of Balam is always welcome). Or maybe Iruma gets into usual trouble ends up stranded somewhere and the only one he can call for help is his familiar.

Crocell Kerori | Kuromu/Gyari

One of the last thing I expected to get this year was a canonical yuri romance in this manga, but here it is and it’s perfect. I love how it is pretty much built on mutual pining. I love how Kuromu loves Gyari, but refuses to reciprocate her feelings, because she knows that she needs to remain unattainable to keep their relationship alive, and I love how Gyari is never ever going to give up.

I would love to see more of the time when they worked together. We know it was love at the first sight for Gyari, but I would love to see how Kuromu’s feelings grew. Those hours they spent together practicing, maybe a not-date where they sneak together to scout a venue where they will be having their first big concert, or maybe a small contest that would sow the seeds for their future rivalry. I would love any and all of it. Also, Gyari doesn’t seem to be aware of Kuromu’s civilian identity, so I would love a story where Gyari meets Crocell Kerori rather than Kuromu. Does she recognize her? Or does Kerori manage to successfully trick her? Maybe Gyari makes a full investigation after hearing rumors that Kuromu is attending Babylys. I would also love any sort of future fic for those two.

AUs and ships

I love the worldbuilding around the demon world, so I would ask that if you decided to write an AU that it still incorporates demons. I would definitely love an AU where rather than getting summoned to demon world, Iruma accidentally summons either Kirio or Callego into the human world. Maybe Iruma’s parents try to use him as an offering, but instead he ends up bound to a demon. I would love to see Kirio excited to unleash suffering (even if his weak powers severely limit him in that regard) onto human world just to discover that he made contract with the biggest pacifist possible. Or Callego being torn between wanting to return home as soon as possible (he has classes to teach!) and wanting to somehow help the weird human child that just keeps getting into trouble. Any other demon-focused AU is also welcome. For Gyari and Kurmou, maybe one of them is a human who ends up summoning the other as a demon. How different would their relationship be then? I’m also fine with any sort of AU divergences scenario. Maybe Iruma keeps accidentally sabbotaging Kirio’s terrorist plans without realizing it. Or Iruma ends up summoning Callego more often as his familiar when he gets into trouble. What if Gyari also attended Babylys.

As for ships, I’d rather avoid any love triangle scenarios for this canon, so please focus on just one pairing per character (competing for Iruma’s attention is normal for this canon, I’d just rather not see outright romantic competition). It’s self-explainatory for Kirio request, but if you want to include some shipping elements into the other requests I also ship Iruma/Amelie and Callego/Balam.

VIVY: FLUORITE EYE’S SONG

Solo: Vivy

WB: Any

I would love a look into some alternate timelines or missing scenes. Feel free to go as tragic as you like for alternate timelines, or make a happy end, or anything in between. I just think the core concept of the show has a lot of potential in that regard. For a more specific prompts I would love an AU where Diva doesn't disappear, but maybe she and Vivy end up spliting in some way (I'm sure Matsumoto could find a spare body or something). Or maybe a story where one of the Sisters ends up dragged into Singularity project (I really loved what they did with Elizabeth in the show).

For more worldbuilding prompts I would love a more in-depth look of how Matsumoto as more advanced AI differs from the past eye and how that gap is slowly being closed with each case he and Vivy resolves. Or outsider POV on how Vivy’s and Matsumoto’s actions shape the world. Them turning off the plant producing new androids and the subsequent suicide would definitely get coverage. I would love to know how the whole thing was officially explained. Are there conspiracy theories on the Internet? Sisters are involved in every major incident, would people suspect something?

AUs and ships

I would prefer no setting changes for this story. Any other AUs are fine. As mentioned I would love any look for alternate timeline. I would also love an AU where Diva doesn’t recover her memories and keeps helping Matsumoto while trying to regain them.

Any canon pairings are fine.

SOUSOU NO FRIEREN

I read new manga chapters as they get translated so feel free to incorporate anything from the manga that’s available in English.

Frieren

Frieren/Himmel

I love how this manga is a slow-paced fantasy dealing with loss and inevitable passage of time. And I love Frieren for being one of the best depictions of an elf whose long life actually affects their outlook on life and actions.

I would equally love the insight into Frieren’s present with her charges and the past with hero party. What other shenanigans they get into on their journey? What kind of weird magic Frieren pursued? I would love to see more of her mentoring Fern and Stark. I also love to see her interactions with the hero party. Maybe some more insight into how they fought with demons, since Frieren seemed to have picked up a number of enemies during that time. For some more specific prompts: maybe Frieren accidentally stumbles ona cursed item that erases her memories (or just her memories of Himmel). How would it affect her? What would the party do to help her? Or maybe a demon kidnaps someone from Frieren’s party?

Feel free to include any other characters, they are a colorful bunch.

AUs and ships

I’m fine with AUs as long as Frieren’s long lifespan is preserved. Her perspective is very much shaped by how long she has lived, so I wouldn’t want that aspect to change. One exception would be, a roleswap where Himmel is an elf, while Frieren is a human, and exploration of how both of them would be affected by having a different lifespan. An AU with mythological creatures or similar could be interesting.

I would very much love Himmel/Frieren, though I also enjoy how the manga softly builds on their connection. I also enjoy the budding romance between Fern and Stark.

ONMYOJI

I like all the characters so feel free to include any of them in the story. Bonus points for Ennmusubi doing some subtle matchmaking.

Hakuro/Kusa

I love both of them and how much Kusa looks up to Hakuro. I would love to see them have some adventures together. Maybe they help some other youkai? Or one of the onmyoji? I would also love a deeper insight into how Kusa became stronger after getting inspired by Hakuro. How did she try to improve herself? There definitely was some trial and error and I would love to see that.

Shiranui/Kinnara

That pairing came out of the left field for me, but I absolutely love the interactions the two of them had so far. I would love to see them meeting more, their feelings growing each time they see each other. I also feel like a story where they keep meeting each other in a dream would really fit them, as they would long to finally meet each other in reality.

AUs and ships

I’m fine with any AU. A modern AU with archer Hakuro and gardener Kusa would be cute. Or a dancer Shiranui and a musican Kinnara. Alternatively an AU where one of the two is onmyoji could be very interesting.

I’m fine with Hakuro’s admiration for Hiromasa being present as long as it doesn’t overshadow her relationship with Kusa.

DRESDEN FILES

Harry Dresden/Lara Raith

I was sceptical of this pairing all the way through Peace Talks, but then Harry and Lara had this intense falling out, Murphy had died, and suddenly this is a supernatural arranged political marriage and I love everything about this situation. I mean everything. Harry still being in mourning and absolutely not wanting to be forced into this arrangement, Lara still being distrustful of Harry, suspecting that Dresden is using their brother as a bargaining chip, Mab expecting both of them to present themselve as a couple for political reasons. It’s just terrible time for both of them, but so much fun for me.

I would love to see them forced to attend various supernatural events to present themselves per Mab’s wishes. How badly would Dresden handle it? Also it was confirmed that he was marked with true love which means he and Lara probably can’t even touch directly. How well do they hide that fact from everyone? How much guilt would Harry have once he realized that the mark has weakened or disappeared now that he started to develop feelings for Lara? How much chaos will ensue when the wedding does happen?

AUs and ships

I don’t want any setting AU for this fandom, because the existing setup is just too perfect. I’m fine with a divergence AU as long as Lara and Harry are still forced into arranged marriage.

I would want for Harry’s past relationships be acknowledged mostly because him being in mourning is part of what I find appealing about his situation. I don’t expect any scenes actually showing him with his past lovers, but I would be very okay with them appearing.

TALES OF CRESTORIA

Feel free to include other Tales characters. My faves are the cast of Xillia, Symphonia and Graces, but I’m also fine with including other characters (I would appreciate proper introductions in that case, I still haven’t played some of the games, so I might not recognize everyone just by their name).

Solo: Lloyd Irving

I would love more insight into small, but murdeous Lloyd. Seriously I loved the idea of Lloyd originally being manipulated into killing Colette and would love to see Lloyd remembering his lost memories at some point (bonus points for also exploring the idea of Colette as an artificial construct). Also I'm always a sucker for Kratos and Lloyd awkwardly trying to rebuild their familial bonds. What if Lloyd went with Kratos after all? What would happen if they ran into each other again.

Stahn Aileron & Leon Magnus

I would love more of Leon's utter suffering as he searches for a way to turn his best friend back into human, so people stop thinking he's crazy whenever he tells his sword to shut up. I would love to see him reunite with Crestoria’s main cast and getting annoyed at how chaotic they are. Or running into Sorey again. Honestly, I would love seeing him interact with pretty much anyone, and grumpily helping them kill monsters/do charity/etc. Or exploring Stahn’s and Leon’s past. I would love to see their childhood and how they grew to be such a good friends.

I haven’t played Destiny, so please give me context if you want to include any elements that aren’t in Crestoria.

Velvet Crowe/Milla Maxwell

I thrive on the twisted codependency those two have in Crestoria. I will take both good, tragic and/or ambiguous ends for this relationship. Whether Velvet decides to forgive Milla or kill her it will be great. Give me all those twisted emotions, the hesitation, and pain both of them are carrying.

For straightforward approach, maybe the two of them stop in a town while chasing the last Incarnation and Milla decides to throw a party (because it’s some sort of festival, or maybe she found out it’s Velvet’s or Laphicet’s birthday and wants to make some amends however small). Or maybe one of them gets hurt during the fight with an Incarnation and the other ends up nursing them to health.

For some more levity, maybe Velvet and Milla ran out of money and pick up some side-job to have enough money for an inn. Maybe they work as waitresses and are both great and terrible at it at the same time. Or they have to take care of kids. Any other amusing job is also good.

AUs and ships

I’m fine with any AUs, though for Stahn&Leon request I still want Stahn to be the sword. I’m okay with Stahn turning human (or from human to sword) in the course of the story or being human when showing his past with Leon.

I don’t want Velvet or Milla paired with anyone else or Asbel/Cheria. Other than that there’s too much ships. Please inquire through the mods about specific ones.

FATE/GRAND ORDER

WB: Any

Please only include NA content, I want to avoid JP spoilers

I would love to explore any part of the setting really. I especially love the various interesting connections Servant have with each other that might not be obvious at first glance (like the fact that Iskander is also a pharaoh). I’m just fascinated by all the intricate historical connections. I would also love to see how some Servants would react if they were taken to Singularity/Lostbelt/Event they weren’t a part of.

Alternatively I would love to see exploration on how different the protagonists upbringing is from other mages especially given how bad they are at magic. We get some of it with Crypters (I loved how frustrated Kadoc was at the fact that the protagonist is even worse at magic than him), but I would love to see more of it. Maybe some Servants try to teach protagonist magic or prepare them for interactions with Clock Tower mages.

I'm fine with both male and female protagonist. Feel free to do anything from a serious character exploration to zany antics. I love both moods FGO jumps between, you can't go wrong with that. Historical context always welcome. I'm fine for any usual suspects when it comes to plot ideas: be it training simulator shenanigans, "oh no we lost comms and are stuck in Singularity", Moriarty scheming, to someone wanting to make Master happy in their own special, dysfunstional and/or possibly destructive ways

Some of the characters I enjoy: Gilgamesh (any), Mordred, Karna, Medea, Saint Martha, Ereshikigal, Danzo, Jeanne D'Arc Alter, Mysterious Heroine XX, Sitonai, Moriarty, Goredolf, any character from pairings section solo. Though honestly I love pretty much everyone in Chaldea except Columbus.

AUs and ships

Obviously, no setting changes AUs, but feel free to Canon Divergence

Pairings: Amakusa/Semiramis, Izou/Ryouma, Kintoki/Fuuma, Romani/Merlin, Romani/protagonist. Also feel free to assume protagonist/everyone (except the "child" Servants). Feel free to ask about other pairings through mods, I’m definitely missing some

#exchange letters

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