#i might even go back to the same summer job which is. Has Anything Really Changed if i'm still secretly writing time travel au | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

darkness-follows · 5 months ago

Text

NOBODY ASKED FOR THIS IDK WHY IM WRITING IT

Abuse of power

Shane x Female Reader oneshot

Tw: Shane is a piece of shit, if you watched the Shield or just some of it you'll know. Abusing his Power as a cop. Rough Sex. Rough Oral.

Dub Con kinda stuff guys.

Slapping each other around a bit...Beware. Mention of a bloody kiss. Creampie (Shanes favorite item on the menu)

And minors do not read please.

⚠️⚠️ ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥 ⚠️⚠️

Interview time with one of Shanes favorite P.I's.

"I don't know okay.. I swear I didn't hear anything" you sigh, Shane has you pressed between him and his station car, he's always been like that, since you met him, pushy and grabby and overall way too much in your space. He might have squeezed your ass a few times or your breasts... and yeah there was that one time where he made you give him a blow job in the back of his private truck. But other than that? He never took it to actual Sex. And he might be a bit off and uncomfortable but he's never been too rough with you.

He doesn't slap you around or degrade you too much. Sometimes you even think he really likes talking to you.

"Give me something, anything Baby, you don't want me to bust you for hookin' now do you?" He teases.

"I'm not a fucking hooker?!" You try to get away from him but no way, no chance.

"Good luck tryin' to proof that to the Departement darlin' " The evil tease in his voice, the smirk on his face. He makes you sick and at the same time... blowing him wasn't the worst thing you've ever done.

"I really don't have anything Shane! I swear, not a peep at the moment. Not between me and my girls or the idiots we hook up with, alright, I can't help you on this one! Now...let me go" You try to squeeze past him again but he doesn't let you. His hands grab your hips, you can feel his fingers digging into your bones.

"If I find out your lying to me..." Shane warns. He leans in closer, you can feel his breath against your cheek. "I'm going to shove my 9 inches into every fucking hole you got" He pushes you away almost so hard that you go stumbling. But you manage to catch yourself in time. Watching him get in the car and drive off.

Fuck.

You hope that wasn't a real threat because..you just lied to him.

❤️‍🔥

"SHIT" You try to push the door shut again but no chance, Shane already has his boot and then the rest of his leg in the door. He's not alone either, feeling two strong arms wrap around you from behind. "You lied to me Angel! Im so..- heartbroken! You didn't tell me that TJ came to your fucking house to what..? Get a quickie in and hide his god damn coke?" He asks.

"Really hoping he didn't shove it up your ass but I might have to do a little search just to be sure" He grabs your face to force you to look at him.

"No...no- please I swear it wasn't like that. He didn't hide anything! I promise...Shane.. I promise. I tell you where, I tell you" You beg and thank god he nods, the arms release you, fuck, Vic.

"I got this." Shane tells him and you watch Vic slowly leave. That's either good or really bad.

"So? He fucked you and stashed his shit somewhere. Where?" He huffs.

"He didn't fuck me..." You groan. "He forced me to let him in, cried like a little bitch and told me he put the damn powder into a flour jar in the youth Center...-" You sigh. Thank god that Center is on summer break. "Oh, really? Cause he told me a different Story!" Shit. He found TJ before coming here. "What's his Version?" You ask when he looks around your place, not exactly treating your things kindly.

"His story was that he hid it here after he fucked you from behind sweetie, now I don't care which tale is true here. I just gotta know where the blow is at" He points out. After knocking some of your stuff over he walks back towards you, taking a fistful of your hair and throwing you onto your knees.

"THE YOUTH CENTER! Shane I swear! Flour Box in the kitchen cabinet." You look up at him with pleading eyes. Watching him make a phone call and moments later you hear a car leaving your driveway.

"They are going to check that out but darlin' if that is another lie...." he tugs on your hair as a warning. Sitting down on your couch with a loud sigh, he lets go of your hair to light up a cigarette. "Why did you lie, your blowing this whole god damn thing for me, you ain't gonna get any more paychecks i hope you fucking know that" He huffs.

"Because he was crying...like a Baby....I felt bad but I told him there is no way in hell he's gonna leave this shit here..So he took it over there. That's all there is to it, I didn't know you guys cared so damn much for a brick of coke" You frown. "Hey!" His foot kicks into your side "You got no idea what this is about so shut it" He uses your coffee mug as ashtray at least. This whole waiting and sitting around, him on your couch and you on the floor thing is more than nervewrecking. What if TJ moved it and it's not there? Would he...- would Shane kill you?

When he gets a call you prey a little, not being religous at all, but it can't hurt right?

When he gets off the phone you shake...hands trembling, looking up at him with big eyes. "You got lucky this time, Vic found it." Shane mumbles.

Oh thank fucking god.

"That doesn't mean your off the hook, you lied to me." Shane reminds, you watch him stand up again, grabbing a hold of your shirt and then he draws back his right arm, turns his hand into a fist.

"Please don't..- don't hurt me. I'm sorry, god so so sorry!" You claw at his jeans. "Shane. Let me Show you how sorry, please." You open his belt with a nervous smile, dragging down his zipper. He's simple like that, it will work.

His arm lowers itself and in a matter of seconds he's shoving his cock into your mouth, down your throat. Making you Violently choke on it, sob around it, gag on it, all the things you know he likes. It's better than a beating, and even though you hate his fucking guts you can't help but to moan around him. Show him how good you can be, useful, that you suck cock a lot better without a busted lip.

Shane slowly breaks it off to sit down on the couch, watching you follow and lift your arms onto his lap before your head leans back down.

He is simple like that. Which is great for you, works in your favor. Might mean you will get out of this one smoothly. He tugs on your hair but gently this time, hearing a deep rumble and moan coming out of him turns you on. Oh he's been desperate for this, he didn't get off in a while. You can tell.

But to Shane a blowjob won't be enough, not tonight. He lets you treat his dick like a candy cane for a little while longer before he grabs your head with both hand, lifting it off of his hard and aching actual 9 inch cock. You lick your lips and wipe your mouth when you look up at him, he loves this shit.

"He really didn't screw you? TJ.." He asks.

You wonder why he's so strangely curious about it. But when his hand holds your chin and his thumb wipes softly over your lips you smile genuinely up at him.

"No, fuck no, crying piece of shit like that? Im not that desperate." You huff. Licking along his cock from the base to his tip and watching him throw his head back. "Maybe he said it cause he knew it would get to you?" You suggest.

"Get to me? Why would that get to me? I don't give a shit about you or who you spread your god damn legs for" Shane huffs, he seems really annoyed at that. Botherd. So much so that he shoves you off, pulling his pants back on. Why is he always so weird?

"So the idea of him bending me over and fucking me in the ass doesn't bother you?" You ask curiously. He scoffs at you, getting up from the couch and grabbing his jacket. "No" He huffs loudly.

He's lying.

It totally does bother him. Fuck, but he's been so...ugh. That can't be how he behaves around a woman he actually likes right?

"Are you...jealous?" You get up, a teasing look on your face. "You totally are! But that would mean that you like me and- there is no way because you treat me like dogshit" You point out.

He moves to the door but his hand stays on the handle, not twisting it. You can see how he's breathing faster, the anger on his face, how he seems as if he's aruging mentally with himself right now.

"I'm not, and your right, there is no way. You mean nothin' to me darlin' nothin' . But..- you are into that, you love it when I treat you like that, when I press myself against you, when I grab at you, when I pull your hair and throw you around like some 20$ whore from the street corner." He points out. Hanging his jacket at the door before he takes a step towards you again.

"The more you squirm against me, the stronger that urge in you gets to spit in my face or clock me one the harder you make me baby. That's what you know, that's why you do it" Shane does it again, pushing you into the wall and pressing himself against you.

"Your into women spitting on you?" You question with a laugh. Then the back of his hand connects with your face, not hard enough to leave a bruise but hard enough to make you try and squirm away from him again. "Look me in the eyes and tell me you didn't like that" He huffs back.

And then you spit into his face.

You watch him slowly wipe it off with the back of his hand, and then his tongue licks up your spit from his hand. Fucking god.

Whoever breaks first now admits to what the other accused them of. If he kisses you he's gonna admit that he actually likes you, if you kiss him first you admit that you like being smacked around a little.

Shane kisses you first.

Which is surprising considering you had his dick in your mouth not too long ago. The way he's kissing is so demanding, needy, he wants to possess all of you, your mouth, your body, every fucking inch of you. You push yourself harder against him, moaning softly into his mouth when your tongues press roughly into each other.

When the air thins in your lungs you pull back slowly, searching his eyes. "Jesus Shane, really?" You question. He looks guilty, he looks broken that he admitted to liking you. "Vic wanted me to rough you up, not a whole lot, just enough to make you understand that you can't lie to me, to us." He frowns. "He's gonna be so pissed when he finds out I screwed you instead.." He sighs deeply.

"What would that have done? Just because you are scared of someone doesn't mean you magically start yappin' the truth. It would have done nothing to me except for giving me a Black eye or a busted lip." Your hands stroke over his chest, toying with the buttons on his shirt.

"Your right and I'm sorry that I almost.. -" his hand touches your cheek. He almost did it. That's how much Power Vic and the guys have over him.

"But you didn't Shane, and that little backhanded smack-" You shrug. Feeling his hands tickle your sides "I knew it!" He laughs. "You totally liked it, I'm never wrong about my women" He says proudly.

"Can you just fuck me now, Shane? Mark what's yours? Cause I don't want..TJ or some other fucking gang banger. I want you, I want the Cop that had his hands all over me from the day we met" You kiss his jaw.

"Promised you 9 inches in every hole for that lie of yours didn't I? Let's get to work then" He grabs your pants and practically tears them down, doing the same with your panties but being as gross as he is... He takes them and brings them to his nose and mouth. Taking a deep breath.

"God darlin' how do you manage that scent, that's the greatest smelling pussy I've ever known" He comments, you take Note on how he stuffs your panties into the back pocket of his jeans..fuck.

"Remember that Collin guy? You wanted to know so so badly where he was, you pinned me to the car, I was squirming against you, you didn't leave off me and then you took a hold of my crotch. Pressed two fingers between my legs while I started talking about where he's hiding out at?" You huff.

"Mhm?" His hand moves there again, cupping you and pushing two fingers into you.

"Those are the same panties I wore that day. Washed of course but, I think it's a bit funny." You point out. "If I remember that correctly too.. you were beggin' me to stop, wanna repeat that?" He asks.

You bite your lip, rolling your hips slowly into his touch to simulate squirming against him again. "Shane stop...-" You try to squeeze your legs together but his big hand is in the way.

"STOP...- stop stop..- please I told you where he is, that's all I know" You mimic your voice from back then. The expression on his face is adoreable, he really is an asshole but god he's so fucking hot. The way he moves his fingers into you, so deep and steady.

His other hand lifts your leg up, he starts moving against you as if he's fucking you against the wall but it's still only his two fingers. "You better be honest with me from now on, I can only convince Vic that it was a mistake and you will never do it again one exact time. It won't work a second time..." and suddenly the play pretend turns into the Real Deal again.

"Don't care who's sobbing into your ear, you hear me?" His fingers move harder, rough now, Drilling into you at a not so comfortable angle.

"What's he gonna do if it happens again?" You ask with genuine fear on your face and his silence makes your stomach turn. "I vouch for you, for this one, I'd forgive you a second time, he wouldn't. I don't know how he would handle it. Bust you for hookin' somehow." He takes his hand away from your wet core. Licking his fingers with a loud 'pop' before he undoes his belt and zipper, dropping it all onto the floor.

"Turn around" He nods towards the wall.

"No" You huff, not after what he just said?! That Vic would throw you in jail for something you didn't do if you ever forget to tell the whole truth again?

He scoffs at you, hands grabbing your hips, turning you around and pressing you into the wall. "Shane! Shane don't! Im not done talking about this..." You squirm for Real this time. His ego is sickening.

"Well I am" He grobes your behind roughly, spreading your cheeks apart. When he lets go you can feel his tip at your hole. The wrong fucking hole. "No...no no! Shane! I'm serious this time, no. It's gonna hurt so bad, please don't" You hear him sigh loudly, and then he pushes into your soaked pussy. "FUCK" But a whole lot better than the other option.

The snaps of his hips are brutal, but god it's so good. You hate knowing that a piece of shit like him is so damn good at fucking, but most are, aren't they? You moan loud, hands trying to reach back to make his hips go a tiny bit slower but he simply grabs hold of both of your wrists. "God damn Baby, I should have done this so much sooner" He groans. His other hand smacks your cheeks roughly, spreading you open to watch his cock move in and almost out of you over and over.

"You don't ever fucking lie to me again or im gonna have you like this for a few friends of mine, they ain't gonna make it this good though" He huffs. And this time you really want to push him off, but he Hits the spot. He just does. His tip is thick and heated and you can feel it drag over a spot that just feels incredible deep inside of you. And with that speed? You knew he was fit but that's some Athlete kind of shit.

Your shoulder and face softly ache from being forced into the wall, you'd ask him to move it somewhere else but your pretty sure he doesn't give a shit about it.

"So good, so fucking good Shane" You moan a bit extra intense just for him, even though he really is doing a good job.

"Yeah I knew you'd like that." He grabs your hips with both hands thrusting so hard that you suddenly slam with your face first against the wall. You knew you'd end up with a busted lip somehow.

"Ow!" You groan, holding you chin not wanting to touch your lip.

Shane at least is nice enough to stop fucking you raw for a moment, he pulls out and turns you around, gentle hands holding your face. "Shit im sorry..." He seems like he does feel bad about it, but not for long. "Hold on, Hold that pose" He looks through his pants on the floor and takes out his flip phone. Snapping a pic of your face with his hand holding it. Getting a good shot of your busted lip.

"Sending that to Vic! So he thinks I taught you a lesson" He smirks wide.

"Your unbelievable. Fucking unbelievable Shane." You curse his Name, turning away from him.

"Hey im sorry, but it works doesn't it, I didn't see how close your face was to that edge there im really sorry" He turns your face to look at him. Kissing your busted lip gently, feeling his hard cock press against your hip.

You nod while he apologizes. Smiling up at him when he kisses it better. Only to smack him one back as hard as you can. You can see a look in his eyes, it's burning, you've never seen such a psycho look in someone's eyes before.

Before you know it he grabs you, lifts you and carries you to your bed. He throws you onto it, hovering above you before he forces his body between your spread legs. A hand wraps around your throat when he pushes inside of you again he picks up the exact same speed of his hips like before.

Your legs wrap around his waist and all you can do is moan, that's all he can do apparently too.

Your moans, your movements, everything is in perfect sync. His hand lets go of your throat to squeeze your breast, rubbing his thumb over your already hard nipple while he slams his fucking hips into yours. "Shane....Shane...stop!" You bite your lip with a smirk when he looks at you to confirm if you really meant it or if you were teasing again.

It's nice that he checked, you didn't really expect him to.

"Think you can just lie to me you stupid bitch huh? I fucking own you. You'd be a broke whore without me" He looks into your eyes and you can tell, for the first time, that he doesn't mean it. It's not how he really feels but it turns you on either way.

"Please...stop, please Shane" You make your voice Sound as desperate as possible and he fucking cums. He moans so loud that your shitty neighbours start banging against the wall. You can feel his cock throbbing and leaking his cum deep inside of you, shoving it in deeper with every thrust that still follows until you cum too. Your raw fucked core clenches around him while your whole body lifts off the bed with your hand and leg strenght only.

Hand in his hair roughly pulling until your done and your body falls back onto the mattress. His on top of yours.

"Shit.." You breathe out, feeling a drop of blood on your lip but before you can wipe it away he kisses it away. Licking his lips and kissing you deeply again.. a kiss tasting of your blood and he's almost ready to fucking go again. Christ.

Your breathing barely turned back to normal when his phone suddenly rings and he pulls himself out of you.

"Oh good fucking god darlin' wish you could see that, my favorite kinda pie" He chuckles, staring at the mess he made of you when he stumbles around to grab his phone. When he returns he keeps you from closing your legs with a hand. Pinning the phone between his ear and shoulder...moving between your legs. "Ya?" He's on the phone while his tongue drags over your soaked and cum leaking core.

He really is a piece of work.

Your so overstimulated but you don't know who he's on the phone with so you stay quiet.

Your hand strokes through his hair when your hips squirm once more because of Shane.

"Oh yeah she uh, she learned her lesson" Shane looks up at you, silently asking if you did.

You smirk wide and give him a thumbs up before his tongue rolls over your sensitive clit.

You could swear a finger of his is toying around with the mess he made while just casually chatting up Vic on the phone.

"Yeah I'll be there in 10" He mumbles.

But you pull roughly on his hair.

"15..Sorry" He tells Vic and you do it again.

"Imma be there in 30 alright? Gotta take care of something, okay, later" He hangs up and tosses the phone next to you.

"Got 15 more minutes out of this deal Baby, how do you wanna spend it?" He's going to need 5 minutes to get dressed and going and 10 for the ride back to the station.

"Well, 15 isn't enough to get me ready for anal so we might have to do that some other time. So, honestly?" You look down on him placing soft kisses onto your lower stomach.

"You can make it up to me now, how you've been treating me since we met." You tug on his hair again and you don't even have to tell him twice, he's so eager. "Yes Mam." He lowers his head.

And for the next 15 minutes you let him work his tongue, you make him clean up the mess he made inside of you. And give you as many extra orgasms as you desire...

You could get used to that, but god he's a dick!

❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

EYY Thank you for reading, I really really hope you liked it!!! (I did not spellcheck this. Apologies)

Tags: @justme12200 @its-in-the-woods @dichromaniac @coolranchdavidian @thotslayers

GIF Credit: https://www.tumblr.com/theshieldfx-blog?source=share

#walton goggins #the shield #shane vendrell x female reader #shane vendrell #cooper howard #the ghoul #fallout #boyd crowder #justified #lee russell #vice principals

116 notes · View notes

justyourtypicalwriter · 6 months ago

Note

I just saw the post SERVICE DOGS HCS PLEASEEE !!!

HERE WE GO GANG! These are the one's I have so far! Feel free to suggest recs for any characters or disabilities y'all wanna see! (feel free to rec it even if it's for a character on the list)

STAN:

Service Dog: Brown Newfoundland, Delta (F)

Psychiatric Alert & Response Dog

Disabilitie(s): Major Depressive Disorder (MDD), Minor Psychosis

The hair dye oh my god. He can rarely drag himself out of bed during depressive episodes but occasionally he’ll get a random burst of impulsivity and re-dye his hair. Most of the time he does the same shitty job at bleaching it blonde

“DARLING! GUESS WHO’S BACK FROM THE PSYCH WARD” vibes

Sharon and Randy officially divorced when he was fifteen. He got a little better now that there isn’t constant screaming or the threat of a drunk or high Randy doing something stupid

Don’t get me wrong, he’s still a total mess-

Patched his relationship with Shelly

Misdiagnosis club AND public breakdown club

God his entire aura just radiates LOSER energy but he’s somehow insanely popular

Not cousins with Craig & Red in this AU but their parents are insanely close so they hang out a lot

CRAIG:

Service Dog: Irish Setter, Saturn (M)

Medical Alert & Response Dog

Disabilitie(s): Epilepsy

Lowkey autistic but Saturn isn’t task trained for anything related to that

Goes non-verbal at times but it’s pretty spontaneous. Most people outside his group can’t tell if he’s actually non-verbal or just not talking to fuck with everyone

Peru drama was secretly worked out when they were twelve. Craig was hospitalized for a while when they were running tests to get a diagnosis, it was roughly a month long stay. He told Stan he’d call it even if Stan looked after Stripe until he was out. Tweek was away for the summer and he knew Stan wouldn’t let anything happen to her since he’s a massive animal lover

Gotta maintain the bitch personality

TWEEK:

Service Dog: Doberman, Latte (M)

Psychiatric Alert & Response Dog

Disabilitie(s): Chronic Anxiety,

“Ah fuck, the magic school bus is waiting outside to take me back to rehab-”

I kid you not, he was absolutely terrified of Latte when he first got him

Which is funny because Latte is the sweetest goddamn thing, not at all like Fable whose a fucking demon shit

CPS was called on his parents right before senior year

Placed with the Broflovski’s so he and Kyle got closer

Public breakdown club

BUTTERS:

Service Dog: Boxer, Haven (F)

Psychiatric Alert & Response Dog

Disabilities: Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), Depression

Public breakdown club (IN DEVELOPMENT)

KYLE:

Service Dog: Black Giant Schnauzer, Noble (M)

Medical & Psychiatric Alert & Response Dog

Disabilities: Diabetes, Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome (POTS), Avoidant Restrictive Food Intake Disorder (ARFID)[This one might be switched]

Tubie Kyle (I fucking LOVE this one)

For once I give Kyle an ED that doesn’t stem from body image issues

Humancentipad trauma bc I love being problematic about the episode

DESPISES his lows because it means he has to eat something

Also goes non-verbal but only during times of high stress

Noble is a program dog. Kyle got him when he was 14 and initially he was so against it. He wants to function independently but he really fucking can’t. As he grows older he learns to accept the help more

HATES mirrors. The Humancentipad incident left him with scars

Public breakdown club

KENNY:

Service Dog: Anatolian Shepherd Dog, Harbor (M)

Medical Response & Mobility Aid Dog

Disabilities: Muscular Dystrophy, Chronic Pain

Regularly hospitalized, fucking dies, and revives the next day

DUMPSTER DOG<3333

He trained Harbor mostly by himself (Wendy, Tolkien, and Kyle pitched in a bit and bought him books on training techniques)

MOM FRIEND! Bro I just love making Kenny one of the parental figures of the group. He’s just got a bag of shit he carries around for both himself and everyone else. Stan forgot to swap his bandages? Boom, Kenny’s got new ones. Kyle’s sugar is low? Boom, he’s got whatever little snack the boy is able to tolerate. Someone needs a distraction? Medical episode causes them to need a vomit bag? Boom, done. Mom friend Kenny

So fucking ADHD

JIMMY:

Service Dog: Grey Great Dane, Kitty (F)

Mobility Aid Dog (IN DEVELOPMENT)

TOLKIEN:

Service Dog: Papillon, Jax (M) (IN DEVELOPMENT)

WENDY:

Service Dog: Black German Shepherd, Nike (F)

Psychiatric Alert & Response

Disabilities: Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) (IN DEVELOPMENT)

CLYDE:

Service Dog: Husky, Fable (F) (IN DEVELOPMENT)

BEBE:

Service Dog: Golden Retriever, Bucky (M)

Medical Alert & Response Dog

Disabilities: Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome (POTS)

Misdiagnosis club

Went to multiple doctors from 13-15 who all told her it was all in her head

And she’s just sitting there like “bitch please, the only thing in my head is my girlfriend and how hot she is. Now tell me why I keep experiencing these symptoms-”

HEIDI:

Service Dog: Chocolate Labrador, Isa (F)

Psychiatric Alert & Response Dog

Disabilities: Autism Spectrum Disorder

Public breakdown club (IN DEVELOPMENT)

#south park #service dog au #kyle brovlofski #stan marsh #kenny mccormick #craig tucker #tweek tweak #wendy testaburger #butters stotch #jimmy valmer #tolkien black #clyde donovan #bebe stevens #heidi turner #wip: butterfly verse

33 notes · View notes

enthusedbambi-jjba-au · 5 months ago

Text

Monster AU - Monster Hunters [P1]

[The Guild, silver weaponry and can we please talk about how these bullets break the fucking Geneva Conventions]

Monster Hunting!

I am sure that the term is self explanatory. You probably know already.

But if you don’t, here’s a quick rundown:

Monster hunting, also known as “Field Exorcism”, “Damnation”, “Befliction”, and fucking “murder”, among other things, is the practice of tracking and killing non-humans - that is, “monsters” (or pretty much anyone they believe to be non-human), usually with the overall goal of completely eradicating all “dangerous” cryptian species. It’d be a hate crime if only cryptians were a protected class. In case you haven’t guessed, they’re not (though some of them look human enough that murdering them is still generally frowned upon in most jurisdictions, like most vampires and lycanthropes that shift back upon death).

”Cacciatori”, in Italian, means hunters, and is the word used for monster hunters here as well. Not to be confused with a dish prepared alla Cacciatora, or the surname Cacciatore (we are not here for nominative determinism!!!). They’re majority ‘Catholic’ by which I mean most hunters in Italy seem to be semi-religiously-motivated “Italian Catholics” (they’re Christian at least, I don’t know; the religion scene here is wild). I assume this is primarily due to proximity to the Vatican and general historical contexts. I thought they were all Catholics but apparently most of them just self-describe themselves as Catholics, and I don’t know much about Christianity in the first place. (I had a Bible when I was younger and naturally I drew all over it because I was a child. I do not know what they expected. I also went to a Christian summer camp but I only retained the fun parts of that.)

Okay, back to monster hunters before I get off topic any more.

Most of them hunt:

to ‘protect’ their communities

for religious reasons, usually also an extension of the above

for money, obviously

for money but the other kind

It's hard to say which motivation is the majority, like, I can't exactly do a survey or anything; in Italy, as far as I've seen (I haven't really seen that far, admittedly, mostly just near Naples), it seems to be a somewhat even split, between the general public's subconscious fear of being out at night (as well as the influence of religious institutions) and the financial prospects of mark-hitting and marketing. To be clear, monster bounty hunting (as a casual term. monster-mercenarism might be a closer fit, but... much harder to say) isn't quite the same as regular bounty hunting; monster-mercs actually rarely go after an individual who has a bounty on them—though some do take shady jobs to 'find out' if someone is a monster—they mostly just hunt monsters and then get paid based on their kills.

You probably assume all hunters are human, of course, right? Yeah. I fucking wish. I fucking wish there weren't monsters out there willing to off other cryptians for money. There are even werewolves out there hunting werewolves. Etc. I think sometimes it's like internalised hatred, but sometimes monsters are also out of their fucking minds just like human beings.

I always wondered if they fully grasp just how fucking quickly their fellow hunters would take a gun to their head the second they found out.

But yeah, most of them are human.

Anyways, you might be wondering who the fuck is paying them. Monster hunting isn’t exactly legal since normal non-believers and the government generally will see a dead humanoid cryptian and go “ah, murder”, so I have to assume most of the payment for the mercs (as opposed to the shadowmarket suppliers and shadowmarketers who obviously get paid for merchandise) is funded by the Guild.

now on the subject of the guild: I’m sure a lot of you are curious what in the fuck that is, which is fair, since you probably hadn’t heard of it before i started saying words.

La Gilda dei Cacciatori Mostri

La Gilda dei Cacciatori Mostri d'Italia (GCM), the Italian Monster Hunter's Guild, is precisely what it sounds like: a guild of monster hunters. In Italy. Surprise. I just call them the Guild, mostly. Hunting seems to be sort of culturally hereditary, and Guild membership is somewhat exclusive; for "safety reasons" allegedly (though I personally think at least half the time they're just a bunch of fucking self-righteous elitist bitches), as they need to 'make sure they can trust their members' or something like that. They signal membership of the Guild with these little silver pins with insignias that they wear. They're silver because you have to be able to wear the pin to be in the Guild, I think. I guess they assume that anyone who can touch silver must be a human. I'll get to silver's importance later. I think the bottom of the pin is a tiny out-the-front knife for, like, the most dire of emergencies or something? I've seen some where the bottom comes out more or less, so there's probably a switch on the back that extends the blade, but I can't really say for sure because I just can't seem to get my hands on one. Whatever.

Bunch of smug bastards; they have one of those fancy Latin mottos. Translates to 'Sanctity and Safety; Keeping The Faith'. Or something. No fucking idea what that means, but sure. Anyways, the Guild spans across all of Italy (I don't know if San Marino or the Vatican or Sicily or Sardinia are included; I'm assuming Sicily and Sardinia are, but I can't say for sure). They keep in contact with each other through this Guild… meetings, and stuff. I know there's a Northern Division and a Southern Division, and then a bunch of local chapters in each division. It's sort of hard to find out the specifics since they have to be careful with what they talk about, but it seems like the whole Guild isn't super closely knit because it's just not practical to have everyone at every meeting and such. The divisions are closer amongst themselves than one another, but they all support each other, at least for the most part. I understand them as having a representative system where reps from each chapter are assigned to meet up instead of having everyone meet together to stay connected. They probably keep in touch with everyone so they can alibi each other if police come poking around.

I dunno what the deal with Sicily and Sardinia is, but the distribution seems to split right above Lazio; anything above Lazio is Northern Division, and Lazio plus Abruzzi and anything south of those two regions is Southern. They have Guild ‘capitals’: the Southern one is definitely Rome, though Naples apparently has one of the most ‘powerful’ hunter families in the country (and just a lot of families in the area? From what I’ve seen?); I’m not sure what the Northern capital is but based on population I’d have to guess probably Milan? I don’t really know if the chapters are region- or city-based; I think it might depend on size and population. I’m just gonna call them based on the most notable nearby town/city.

The Guild actually isn’t all that big; most of the smaller chapters are actually just a single family, if that—like I said, hunting seems to be culturally hereditary, so people seem to be passing it on to their kids, which actually means their numbers are starting to dwindle slightly as kids are denouncing or declining the occupation, or people die before their kids get old enough to carry the tradition on or something such. Many known monster hunter families have actually retired semi-recently due to various circumstances. In areas where the primary family or group of hunters have stopped hunting and whatnot, it seems that leaves room for foreigners to step in or hunters already patrolling another location nearby to absorb the unsupervised region into their territory. It’s also when the shadowmarketers swoop in and start ‘poaching’. Shadowmarket suppliers and Guildists seem to have issues with each other, too, even though they’re hunting the same thing. I assume it’s primarily due to greed. Or desperation. Or both.

Here are some notable hunter names and families I’ve heard about (for some reason, there seems to be a lot of them in or around Naples? Or, you know, I’ve only noticed more of those because I’m here):

Mista - Napoli Chapter - wolfhunters, long-standing lineage, Campania representatives (presumably)

So, the Mista family is arguably the most well-known and respected hunter family in the Southern Division. Maybe even in the whole Guild. They specialise in hunting lycanthropes and other zooanthropic creatures (mostly the lycans, though). They’re incredibly successful at killing monsters, and they—as a family—are known for this… ‘faith override’ ability they have. See, faith and belief are super powerful, so religious implements are ineffective against a creature whose theological alignment doesn’t jive with it. A Christian cross isn’t going to do much to an individual of a different religion, because the symbol doesn’t mean anything to them. But the Mista family’s ‘override’ is something about their belief outweighing a general lack of belief, thus making their religious iconography effective against enemies whether they should be affected by it or not. I guess magic is fine if YOU get to use it, huh? Bit self-righteous if you ask me.

The Mista family has been in the Guild for a good while now, allegedly from the beginning, and the youngest member—Guido—seems keen to keep up the family tradition even though he’s not living with his family anymore.

So I think it’s safe to assume he has no clue what’s going on in the group he’s currently part of.

James - bayside Napoli - not actually in the guild

A foreign family, and by family, I mean a guy named Damien James came to Naples from London and was seen for a while with a woman he claimed was his wife, encroached on the Mista family’s territory, and then went missing. He was known but not well-liked and wasn’t allowed in the Guild due to a refusal to respect regulations, adhere to territory rules and cooperate with the Mistas. Nobody knows where the fuck he is. His supposed “wife” is still spotted around the bay occasionally, though. She’s really scary, and apparently, when she got approached by someone asking about Damien, she seemed to get super mad about it. Stupid games, stupid prizes. Don’t fuck with widows. Especially not strange widows who spend a lot of time by the water. That’s how you become sea-food. Dumbass.

Fugo - Napoli Chapter - vampire hunters, long-reaching lineage, seemingly recently retired

I’m not sure how true the stories I’ve heard about are, but I’m under the impression that the Fugo family, a bunch of high-class wealthy rich people, came from a lineage of vampire hunters. But they apparently retired a generation or so ago because they were satisfied with being a bunch of rich assholes. Feel bad for their son but that’s none of MY business!!! Hahaaaaaaa that might also just be a load of bullshit. I don’t really know. I’m telling you what I’ve heard alright. Like I don’t want to hear people bitching because my specialty is researching cryptians not humans!

Verga/Ventura - Roman Chapter - variety hunt

Presumably, they are the descendants of the Guild founders, but half of them—the Venturas—have stepped away from hunting, while the other half—the Vergas—continue to hunt whatever they come across. Despite the surname difference, all currently surviving members of the Verga and Ventura families are actually siblings. I think. The little one in the Ventura family might be one of their kids but I dunno I’m pretty sure one of ‘em called her their sister. I think the Venturas changed their surname to distance themselves from the family history, but I’m not really sure. They also seem to have some connection to Passione, but I can’t elaborate on that for reasons.

There’s, uh…. Nine—NINE?! NINE OF THESE LITTLE BITCHES that is so many. Um, even though they’re all attached to the Roman chapter, only three of them are actually, like, Roman. Or even southern, for that matter. The other six are from, uhh… if I can remember… Venice or Verona (though four of them are twins (or quadruplets?) two claim to be from Verona, and the other two claim they’re from Venice, so I don’t know who to believe). The two eldest and the youngest (the kid) are the Roman ones. Fuck I regret meeting these bitches because now I have to explain shit!

To clarify, while the Verga family seems to have been the founders of the Guild ages ago, the current Verga family don’t seem to be leading it (I don’t know who is) but are just carrying on the tradition. I hear that a lot of them have political or governmental positions which might also have some relation to their connections with Passione. Dunno. They were in Naples a while ago, which was when I met them, but they didn’t stay super long, so most of what I know is also from rumours and poking around.

Cacciatore - Venice Chapter - therianoid hunt - retired

Yeah I know I said with the nominative determinism and whatnot. It's not nominative determinism. Just think about it logically. They're not hunters because they're Cacciatores; they're called the Cacciatores because they were hunters. It's called an occupational surname! (It's pretty much the same as the English surname Hunter; same principle as Baker or Cooper or Smith or Miller).

From what I can gather, along with the Vergas and Mistas, and possibly a couple others, they are the oldest known hunter family, hunting mostly animal-like monsters like werewolves and animal demons; they split from the Guild and eventually from the profession as a whole, citing that the Guild’s recent modern innovations on their weaponry—the Crackling Silver in particular, I’m to believe—are fucked up and incredibly unethical even against monsters. I would have to fucking agree with them! Who in the fuck comes up with a thing like crackling silver?! Ugh. More on that later. It’s bad.

Zatta - Chapter and hunt unknown - allegedly silversmiths, or at least close with the Guild’s

I don’t know if they’re the ones making weapons or just coming up with ideas, but based on my ‘research’, I’m of the understanding that they have something to do with the production of the more advanced and fucked up weapons the Guild has taken to using, like the aforementioned Crackling Silver, as well as burst bolts and Stoppers. I don’t know what their main hunt is, if they have one, though I have heard that they’re kind of on thin ice for not getting along with other hunters. Something about how silver is for monsters and not humans. They’re close with another hunter family that also has ties with weapon production, but I don’t know what the other family is called.

Apparently, the youngest daughter severed ties and outright denounced monster hunters as a whole—something about hunters being way fucking worse than the monsters they go after, and she can’t take being around them anymore because they’ve done more than enough damage to her life. You go, girl! There is definitely a LOT of issues and trauma going on there that we are NOT going to unpack! I’ve heard rumours that her brother also split from the family but has been seen in various towns and cities, allegedly “appearing to be hunting”. No clue what that fucking means.

Okay. That’s about all I’ve picked up from trying to sneak around and infiltrate hunter circles.

Which means now it’s time to talk about the super fucked up part. The weaponry.

Silver

so I was going to wait till a future post to really delve into Silver and related topics, but it’s important for this topic to give you the groundwork:

Silver is the single most widely effective and secular monster deterrent and defence. ‘Course, a lot of the Christians think it’s a holy metal. That’s not why it works; it’s not religiously aligned, and that’s why it’s so widely effective. For a lot of monsters—or at least the most commonly known ones, like vampires, werewolves, demons and their ilk—silver will burn. And bad. It hurts and does physical damage. Humans are actually super lucky to be incredibly resistant to silver, but humans also love to push that envelope and give themselves argyria by excessive use of silver as an alternative medicine which by the way, totally do not recommend; please be fucking responsible and don’t turn your skin blue by fucking about with colloidal silver and the such. I can’t believe I have to go out of my way to say this. Anyways, yeah, humans can get silver poisoning too, but monsters are very magically-infused, which is why silver is so much more hazardous to them. I’ll explain that fully at a later date.

Just know—silver? Great against the common monsters. So of course, when hunters (who’d have their crosses and holy water sometimes fail) found that silver worked on nearly everything, they immediately turned to it as their weapon material of choice. Started out with swords, though silver isn’t exactly super cheap or super easy to get, so most silver swords were actually made chiefly from more affordable, more available materials, like steel, and then the blades were tempered with a thin layer of silver, which seemed to work alright.

Blades were traditional for hunters, they’re the oldest silver weapons used by the Guild. First swords, until swords turned out to be unwieldy as fuck. And impractical in the modern day. And expensive. And heavy. And just fucking ridiculous. Swords were replaced by silver hunting knives since they were more subtle, quieter and cheaper.

Are they good?

…no? absolutely not

Come ON! Does close-quarters combat with a transmissive werewolf sound like a great fucking idea to you?! Lycanthropy is transmitted through saliva-blood contact, LIKE GETTING FUCKING BITTEN. Traditional doesn’t mean fucking GOOD. I imagine shit would be fucking awkward if these guys were trying to kill monsters with KNIVES. Swords could be fine, at least at the time when it was all they had, since they had longer reach than knives, but they were superseded by ranged weapons pretty sharpish.

Still, every monster hunter (at least in the Guild) has a hunting knife, probably for emergencies. Only the blade is really silver, not the back of it, to my knowledge, and they’re made to be practical. If the dagger is super fancy, it’s probably fake silver, for religious purposes, or the owner is just a massive fucking bitch. A real hunting knife is simple. Practical against humans, too, kinda, but mostly good as a utility knife. You can throw them if you’re out of your fucking mind (or that one gayboy in La Squadra who is obviously already out of his fucking mind).

Anyway, swords were short-lived for monster hunters. The primary weapon for hunters was crossbows with silver bolts for a while, and then guns became a thing. A few hunters still use crossbows, but most carry guns now and silver bullets. Innovation is mainly made with long-distance hunting weapons since they’re safer to use. I’ve seen a hunter use a fucking slingshot. Didn’t stick around, obviously. I ain’t out here triflin with David. I’m under 4’, and I still want NO part of that

So anyways, yeah, maybe I'm a bleeding heart that doesn't agree with monster hunting, but it's normal-ass guns and silver bullets. Those aren't the worst shit; maybe you don't think it's that inhumane to kill with that (hunters don't see monsters as human anyway), so what's the big deal.

The big fucking deal is the fucking mods they started putting on the bullets and whatnot.

The primary purpose of ALL silver ammo innovations is to prevent the monsters—generally the zooanthropes, I think; surely they don't use this type of shit on vamps and stuff, at least I fucking hope, 'cus if they do, they're more fucked up empathetically than I thought—from being able to recover from their wounds, thus dooming or at least weakening them with unending afterpain.

Which is fucked up. AND AGAINST THE GENEVA CONVENTIONS BY THE WAY. JUST SO WE’RE CLEAR.

I am especially talking about what I’ve mentioned earlier:

Crackling Silver

The “crackling silver” bullet (named for the crackling noise they make as they exit the chamber) is designed with looser shards of silver that loosen with the heat of the gun upon firing, then break off and embed in the wound upon impact, which prevents the wound from healing itself as the silver shards never stop burning the flesh until removed. It’s not just designed to hurt like all fuck; it’s also designed to keep the wound open since the shards mostly embed into the front of the wound where they break off. By keeping the wound open, the monsters are not unlikely to slowly bleed out unless they’re able to find someone who can help them dig the shards out.

Stopper Bullets

The good news is that since silver burns most of these common monsters, the bullets—even crackling silver—will pass right through their body, so only the shards are left inside the wound, so the bleeding out is more of a concern that they can focus on, since the pain isn’t so bad! Apparently, that was a problem! So, someone came up with Stopper Bullets. Stoppers are silver bullets that (don’t ask me how they work, I don’t know) somehow jam themselves halfway through the monster’s body, never coming out the other side, meaning they just sit inside the body and BURN. Stopper bullets are more of an auxiliary weapon, I think; they’re more meant to slow down the monster because they focus on the pain.

there is a special place in hell for whoever the fuck thought to make the crackling stopper. You can infer what that does based on the above.

Silverdust

It’s silver dust. I’ve heard hunters with more silver to waste like to throw silverdust in lycanthropes’ faces to blind them. I feel that some of these hunters are only hunting to go on a power trip.

Burst Bolts

Kinda like the crossbow version of Crackling Silver, except I'm not super sure how they work because I know next to nothing about crossbows?

Like, just, do you get why this shit drives me up the fucking wall?? It’s not even that they just casually use this crazy shit; it’s the fact they don’t seem to care! Like, even giving them the leniency that they don’t think monsters are free-thinking creatures, did NOBODY but the Cacciatores see this and think it was fucking sadistic?? Even if monsters were like animals with no complex awareness or comprehension, even IN the case of frenzied lycanthropes, why go out of your way to make them suffer unless you enjoy the suffering of other living creatures? Would you go to the same lengths if you hunted deer, or rabbits, or birds?

It was never necessary! That’s why it’s so fucked up! A normal-ass silver bullet will kill with a shot to any mortal creature’s vitals, so these mods exclusively serve to inflict a painful and needlessly prolonged death upon a creature and would only be useful for people who can’t fucking aim and need to slow their target down, right?!

The worst part, the way I see it, is that a lot of them—take Guido Mista, for example, the youngest of the Mista family—have more-or-less noble intentions, like wanting to keep the streets safe, and they genuinely believe they are by hunting monsters. I’m sure that if a lot of these people knew that they were close to monsters, or even just that monsters aren’t necessarily evil, they probably would realise that the monsters aren’t always the aggressors.

I’m sure if a lot of them knew that some of their close friends weren’t human, those hunters wouldn’t have it in them to hold true to their convictions and turn on the people they love and trust.

I don’t think it’s impossible that some of the hunter families that have retired might have done so because this happened to them in some way. Monster hunters make me angry, but they also make me pretty sad sometimes, especially knowing that a lot of them just had the monster-hunting thing pushed on them by their families.

And hey, even if you're one of the people who actually hates monsters and support the Guild in eradicating them all, you do realise a lot of regular ass humans can and do get hurt by this shit, too, right? like, sure, silver doesn't burn humans, but that doesn't mean it's not going to fucking hurt to have silver shards jammed in your fucking body. Nobody is perfect, no matter how experienced, and mistakes are bound to happen while hunting every so often.

That's assuming it's a mistake, anyway. if you'll recall what I said about the Zatta family being on thin ice. I doubt they're the only ones.

oh well whatever

That’s all I got for now. Stay safe.

#golden wind #vento aureo #jjba #jjba fanart #monster au #jojo fanart #jojos bizarre adventure #jojo's bizarre adventure #jjba monster au #jojo au #jjba au #monster au lore #Pannacotta Fugo #Guido Mista #jjba oc #jojo oc #enthused cryptotaxonomist moments #monster hunters

14 notes · View notes

jessimiko · 1 year ago

Text

Hello today I am thinking about the distinct way Oscar has supported Ruby.

A lot of others have tried to help her, to some degree or another, Yang especially. Like the scene in volume 8 after Ruby runs off. And that's important, it counts for something.

They tried to help her, but they didn't really try the way she needed them to, didn't help her the way she needed them to. And to be fair, Ruby didn't really communicate with them about what kind of support she needed. Hell, she might not have known what she needed, either.

Ruby wants to help people. It's like it's just in her nature, to want to give support and care. So she lets herself be someone her friends can lean on.

They do not return the favor.

Penny is a pretty big offender of this, for example. Even since volume 1 Penny has always leaned so heavily on Ruby, and like the others, just... never really offers her the same in return. I'm not saying Penny was a bad friend, I'm just saying I think we'd be kidding ourselves if we acted like the weight of Penny leaning against her didn't contribute to her emotional breakdown. I mean, Ruby feels so personally responsible for Penny, like it's her job to take care of her. Like she has to.

Caring for someone because you want to is all well and good, but caring for someone because you feel like you have to puts a whole different level of pressure on you. Why else do you think Ruby felt so responsible for Penny's death, when she wasn't even there when it happened?

This weight is not exclusively given to her by Penny, but it's particularly heavy for her since Penny is dead, and she feels like she failed her, somehow.

I say all this, but make no mistake, none of it was done intentionally. They genuinely had no idea the pressure they were putting on Ruby, the way they were unintentionally hurting her. And part of it is certainly a lack of communication, between all of them. That kind of thing happens! And it doesn't mean they were horrible to her, or bad friends, or anything like that. Just something they need to change, and learn from.

Regardless, Ruby has not been getting the support she needs. For the most part, at least. Even when she makes the attempt to reach out herself, it doesn't work.

Blake tries to comfort Ruby when they're turning the generator on, tells her "Hey, it'll work." To which Ruby's shoulders slump, and she replies "Nothing else has."

Blake then gives her a motivating speech about how she doesn't always know what to do, but that's never stopped her from doing something, and how she's always looked up to Ruby.

Sure, Ruby appreciated it at the time, it was positive affirmation after all. But it's also not what she needed in that moment.

Ruby was making an attempt to be just Ruby. Not a leader, not a huntress, just a girl because she is so tired. She wants to put down the "inspiring leader" role and just admit that she's afraid and upset and stressed and so, so tired.

But Blake does not give her a safe space to do that.

And in the end, she can't live up to that expectation, either.

"...but that's never stopped you from doing something."

Likewise, Yang tries to comfort Ruby after she has her outburst and runs off.

Yang starts by telling a joke to try and lighten the mood, "Still having to one-up your big sis, huh?" Which is promptly ignored. Ruby is not in the mood for jokes.

This scenario is different in that Ruby isn't just dejected, she's frustrated and angry that her plan didn't work. She's being self-deprecating, sure, but she was venting. Just trying to get it all off her chest.

She's not looking for comfort, in that moment. She's looking for someone to listen.

Yang does not listen.

Instead, she tells Ruby about what did work, what they did manage to do, and that while their mom took a risk the day she left, it didn't go how she wanted it to. But Summer is still her hero.

It ends up putting Ruby back in her mother's shoes again, rather than being reassuring. It reinforces her idea that she has to live up to the great Summer Rose, and be a hero.

Ruby does not feel like a hero.

"...but she's still my hero."

Saying the others are entirely to blame for this would be bullshit, and saying it's not their fault at all would also be bullshit.

Because here's the thing. Ruby fell into the role of support friend so easily and so naturally that... nobody really stopped to consider that she needed that support, too. They never noticed, because they were never really looking. They weren't looking because they didn't think they had to. Thought there was nothing to look for.

Except...there is someone who looked. There is someone who noticed, and considered. Right from the start, even.

Someone who realized "This must be really hard on her, too."

It's Oscar. Oscar is the unique exception.

And I am so tired of people pretending that's not significant.

Circling back around to the flaws in how the others have tried to help Ruby, there's a pretty common theme.

They don't let her be upset about things.

Two scenes in particular come to mind: Blake comforting Ruby V8, and Yang comforting Ruby in V8 as previously mentioned.

Ruby is upset, in both of these scenes. In one of them she ran off so she could go be upset. She's not necessarily looking for a solution, or a way to stop being upset. It's shows of vulnerability that are meant to convey that she wants a shoulder to cry on. Basically, "Please be here with me while I get this out of my system. I just need to be miserable about how much everything sucks right now, just for a minute."

In both of the aforementioned scenes, they do not offer a safe space for her let it all out. It goes immediately to "Well here's all the good things that have happened, here's what I admire about you, here's why you shouldn't be upset."

It comes from a place of genuine love and care. If someone you loved was hurting, it's only natural you would want to try and make them feel better, right?

But sometimes that's not what they need.

She's upset, and they need to let her be upset. Let her feel her feelings, even the negative ones! It sucks, but in the long term, bottling them up is far worse. You need to let it out sometimes, because one way or another, it will come out. Try to suppress it for too long and eventually it will explode.

Which is exactly what happens to Ruby in volume 9.

And in a stark contrast, in the dojo scene specifically, Oscar doesn't try to make her look at the positives or keep a stiff upper lip. In fact, it's more Ruby that's doing that to him. But he doesn't expect her to be okay or stay positive or give a pep talk or whatever. He doesn't expect her to be okay.

If anything, he's annoyed/frustrated that she's not letting herself be upset. Because surely, surely, she must be, right? How could she possibly be okay with any of this?

It's the complete opposite of what Ruby has come to expect, what she believes others expect from her.

This is what prompts Ruby to open up about her pain over what happened at Beacon, for the first time. That is huge.

And that's not even the only thing. He's been there for her in many ways that nobody else really has.

For example, in volume 6 after they tell Jaune, Ren, and Nora the truth about Oz and Salem, he's the one who looks and notices the toll it's taking on her. The other's distress (especially Nora, and especially Jaune) is more loud and and aggressive, it's big emotions showing in big ways, and it tends to become the center of attention. But Ruby's pain lurks quietly in the shadows. It's harder to notice, especially when there's something louder also demanding your attention. It's even noticable in the framing, the way Ruby is isolated in the corner.

But Oscar has already had the realization that she's hurting more than she lets on. He's the only one in this moment who thought "Is Ruby okay?"

Then of course, there's the part where Oscar remembers Ruby said food always makes her feel better. He said he made that casserole for all of them, and I don't doubt that was part of it. But we saw the way you hesitated and looked right at Ruby, mister. You aren't subtle.

And then there's the moment at the beginning of volume 7, where he confronts Ruby about her choice to lie to Ironwood.

He was visibly angry about it earlier, but he doesn't show her that, because he knows that wouldn't be helpful to the situation. Quite the contrary, he's hesitant to talk to her about it.

He knows questioning her decision is going to add even more pressure. He doesn't want that. But he also understands that she deserves to know. He knows how important communication is.

And when he tells her, he doesn't use any accusatory language. He does not say "you", he frames it more as a concept; something they're all doing.

"Hiding things from Ironwood..."

He's not questioning her ability as a leader, he's not accusing her of anything. He's simply telling her "Hey, I think you should know that I don't like this. I trust you, and I won't tell him if you don't want me to, but you should be aware that this doesn't sit right with me."

It's actually quite significant, the more I think about it. It's a double edged sword.

On one hand, it's Oscar acknowledging that she's not perfect and she can make mistakes, and that's okay. But it's also him telling her that he thinks this choice is a mistake, which feeds into her self doubt. It's simultaneously exactly what she needs to hear and exactly what she doesn't want to hear.

Coupled with his distinct use of words during The Fumble, "We should tell Ironwood!" and "He's finally choosing the truth over fear...we should do the same."

He's actively letting her know that she's not alone, that's he's there for her, even in this matter where they originally disagreed. He's always been telling her that, in little ways.

Plus, he not only makes the effort to help shoulder her burdens here, Ruby believes it's her responsibility to tell Ironwood the truth because she chose to keep it from him in the first place. But Oscar knows she has other things to attend to. She's got enough on her plate as is. So he tells her it's alright, he'll take care of it, no need to worry.

And Ruby's timid response: "You're sure?" because sharing responsibilities is not something she's used to, but at the same time, after volume 9 we know she's been aching for someone to lean on. And oh, there is someone, isn't there?

So she lets Oscar handle it, because she trusts him. And she trusts him not to judge her for wanting that support.

I could go on, but the point is how distinct and unique the dynamic between Ruby and Oscar is. Ruby does not have this dynamic with anyone else. He's consistently been there for her in a way no one else has been able to be.

"🎶You don't need me anymore, you don't see me anymore.🎶"

Ruby does not feel seen by the others, that much is clear. But Oscar is the exception.

He sees her.

#rwby #rwby9 #ruby rose #oscar pine #rosegarden

127 notes · View notes

enam3l · 2 years ago

Text

love, lola / chapter seven / banana and the band (5.6k)

Summer is in full swing. As pregnancy occupies your time, Eddie finds his own groove. But will it lead him to a future without you?

a/n: happy ending eventually, slow burn, will they won't they, a lil angsty but never mean eddie! tw: if pregnancy details and adoption

ok guys if you hadn't been wondering where this story was going, i think this chapter might give you a clue! we are really getting going now.

series masterlist / follow #enam3l love lola for instant updates / my other work / now available to read on AO3!

comment for tag list. requests open for prequel stories.

The summer of '86 was so far, looking pretty sweet for Eddie Munson; a striking contrast to the events of the spring. On top of being a high school graduate, Eddie was now gainfully employed at The Hideout. Once graduating, for the first time in his life, he'd found himself swimming in free time. No school to waste his time, his drug dealing hat hung up and unfortunately, Corroded Coffin disbanded. The other guys occupied with summer jobs or preparations for leaving Hawkins behind for college. Adventures which were not on the horizon for the likes of himself.

Then, there were only so many times he could interrupt Steve and Robin at Family Video. Eddie had already been scolded for messing with Steve's precious returns piles and Keith was threatening a Munson-ban. As for the kids, they already had so much of their childhood stolen, Eddie wanted them to have the summer to reclaim some. The lanky presence of a twenty year old former drug dealer didn't aid that - which had became painfully obvious when he'd been mistaken for Dustin's dad by the shop assistant at 7/11. And of course there was you.

Now, you did have the same endless free time as Eddie, yet he was terrified of imposing. Whereas previously, spending countless hours together wasting away the summer months had been second nature, it was no longer. The feelings Eddie first noticed when he was fourteen were bubbling back up to the surface with vengeance. During adolescence it had been easy to coexist with the love he held because being in your warm presence was all he'd known. The blissful ignorance of youth meant he hadn't quite grappled with the overwhelming nature of love. Then during those peak years of realisation from eighteen onwards, you hadn't been there.

The distance college provided was Eddie's saving grace. Allowing him to compartmentalise his feelings towards you and store them in a locked box in the attic of his mind. Two years later, you've now returned. Bursting through the attic hatch, wielding bolt cutters to break open the industrial chains he'd put on that dusty box to keep it sealed. Unwittingly you've now unleashed a lifetime of all consuming love. The kind that has Eddie no longer knowing how to be normal around you. Bubbles fizz in his stomach in your presence, pressure rising to the point he fears the cork will pop and every soppy thought will flow from his mouth. Like a lovesick teenager he feels his palms sweat as his uncontrollable hand itches to take yours. So if anything, Eddie needs something to occupy not only his time but his mind. Something to prevent the impulses that zap through him.

So that's where Eddie found that for once, the universe offered him a sprinkle of luck. On a summer evening as he nursed a beer, longingly watching you twirl around with Robin, he was propositioned. From behind the bar, Carl, the owner of The Hideout croaked.

'So, Munson, now you're a free man, take it you been finding yourself with a lotta time on ya hands?'

Eddie scoffs and nods, he doesn't know the half hour of it. Yesterday he took apart and reassembled Wayne's radio just for something to do - it now only plays stations in what they think is Portuguese.

'Well, can always do with extra hands round here, man...' Carl shrugs.

Eddie whips his head round, raising an eyebrow.

'Carl, let's be serious, we both know I am not twenty one, right?'

Carl cracks up.

'No shit, kid. You don't think I can tell a Sharpie job on an ID?'

They both laugh, he'd lost the flawless looking fake ID you'd made for him whilst you'd been away. Resulting in him feebly attempting forgery. He quickly realised that fake IDs and forgery were not something he could add to his portfolio of criminal services a long with dealing.

'Not gonna get your ass shut down for having someone underage kid working?' Eddie asks. Carl shakes his head.

'Hell no, you think they send agents to check in at this shit hole? Pretty sure we're on file as going out of business a decade ago. Nah, man, your only problem would be Chief Hopper and he'd let it slide for you, right?'

Eddie mulls it over. It's the best offer he's been given... the only offer he's been given. He could get a few drinks for free, maybe use the stage and equipment to practice, see a few gigs. Do anything other than obsess over you.

'Yeah, yeah, Hopper would be cool. What would you have me doing? Need some muscle on the door,' Eddie smirks, flexing his lean arms like Popeye.

'Sure, I'll call you if the stray cats outside get rowdy... I was thinking more like the bar. Means I can stay in the office, means the girls we already got on the bar have someone to look out for em, plus you know all the wiring and shit better than me. Can sort all that out for the bands?'

Carl sees the smile spread across Eddie's face and offers out a hand.

'We got a deal, Munson?'

Eddie's ringed hand grips Carl's aged tattooed one.

'Fuck yeah.'

By August you're four months pregnant and every morning is a nauseating guessing game even without the morning sickness.

Once the creeping morning light wakes you, a ritual that started at the beginning of summer, starts. Five deep breaths, eyes squeeze shut, then you raise your duvet, open your eyes and see if over night your stomach has miraculously blown up like a balloon. Then you convince yourself that sight deceives you and obsessively probe your stomach to see if it feels rounder than last night. All this plotting and secrecy was pointless if your body betrayed you, the bump appearing and giving it away like a pointing neon sign. But thankfully, the universe had granted you a sliver of luck and the bump was barely bigger than the aftermath of a large dinner. Nothing anyone would notice. Nothing Eddie would notice.

Still, there were other factors you constantly feared would give up the game. You wondered if anyone noticed your reluctance to enter the pool all summer. Both Gran's and Steve's remained untouched by yourself despite numerous days spent lounging around it with your friends.

'The baby can't drown when it's inside you,' Steve had snorted.

You knew that, having approached pregnancy as you would a school test. Meticulously revising in attempt to make pregnancy appear as something to learn about and not something happening to you. Swimming was listed as a pregnancy safe exercise. But you're sure the subjects tested weren't in a pool with a gaggle of sun drunk teenage boys and a lanky best friend who insisted on hurling you around. You don't believe it would be best pleased to find itself wobbling around on Eddie's shoulders as you wrestled Robin on top of Steve. Plus, wearing a swim suit that exposed your stomach, highlighting it to the world, felt like tempting fate. And a shallow lovesick part of you didn't want Eddie to see you in a bikini, skin exposed, unless you looked perfect.

The other glaring giveaway was you weren't drinking and what was summer without boozy evenings with friends? This all became even trickier now Eddie was behind the bar at The Hideout. No longer could you pretend there was rum hiding in your coke when you were ordering from him. Luckily, Steve was a true friend and stepped up. A true friend who had never drank so much in his life. Making sure to always drink your decoy or order on your behalf. You were glad Eddie had got the job, had something to motivate him and get up for. The downside was now he was the Hideout's resident eye candy. Every night out you were forced to witnessed the girls flocking to the bar and pawing at him. Big lashes batting at him, asking for their fourth drink in the last hour; pouting that they'd spilt their previous glass. Infuriatingly, despite being a goof, Eddie was painstakingly charming; something he failed to realise. His natural charisma oozing as he smirked at the girls needing a replacement,

'Oh it just fell out of your hand? Well we can't be having that, doll. 'Pose you want the same again?'

You watched the girls fluster, knees buckling and not just from the booze and heels, a reaction you'd had a plenty. It only grew worse once they found out he was talented eye-candy as they caught him on stage doing sound checks or providing back up when a band's guitarist had one too many. The kicker was the female clientele of the Hideout were exactly what you'd imagined his type to be. Buxom heavy metal cover girls with smouldering eyes and a music taste much more in tune with his. A lethal combination of heartbreak, jealousy and fury bubbled inside, only aided by raging pregnancy hormones and again without alcohol to numb the pain. Your only comfort was Steve's protective reaction where he would slide you a warm hand to squeeze.

That warm hand was there again when you finally caved and went to get your first scan. Admittedly, you should've already had one but you had buried yourself in denial. Not wanting to hear that tiny pulsing which would cause you to crash land into reality. But at twenty weeks, you knew you had to, it would be irresponsible not to. The adoption agency you had been in contact with needed to know a due date and ideally a scan for prospective parents. It made you feel a little queasy, the thought of the now banana sized being inside you getting advertised. A little grainy picture used to grab the attention of the highest bidder, like a used goods flier pinned to a bulletin board at the grocery store. What could you do though? That was the process, this is what you had to do.

The appointment came round on the 22nd August, a Friday which was far too sunny when you felt so blue. Not even the air conditioning of Steve's BMW could prevent the sweat that beaded on your forehead; a mixture of anxiety and the abnormally warm summer. The car was silent in anticipation, thick with the looming sense of how real the situation you'd gotten yourself in was about to become. You stare at the backs of your moral supporters' heads. Gran staring wistfully at the blur of orange, blue and green outside. Steve's gaze fixated on the road as his knuckles whitened with his grip on the wheel. The blaring WHAM! tape a stark contrast to the somber mood.

Steve's hand gripped yours in support as you reclined on the bed in anticipation for the nurse. Gran's firm on your shoulder. The two people who you knew were going to keep you grounded until this blip in your life was over. The nervous energy was interrupted by the chirping of the nurse.

'Hi, Miss Y/L/N?' you nod, 'good morning! How we feeling today? Excited? Nervous?'

You could tell she was good at her job, had mastered the art of talking to ease people.

'How about you, Mom or I guess Grandma now? And Dad to be?'

Gran winces. Steve's breath hitches. Oh crap, you think, I'm about to foil up this poor woman's routine. One top of that, the message that no one was going to become anything other than what they already were, clearly hadn't been passed on. The three of you look between each other grimacing. Your voice croaks nervously.

'Oh urm, this is actually my Gran... and he's not the father...'

Steve gives an awkwardly cheerful salute 'Just a good friend.'

The nurse clearly looks as if she's about to say something nice but you have one final blow.

'And, urm...' you squirm on the squeaking bed, 'I'm not keeping it. The baby - sorry. They're getting adopted.'

For the first time, her kind smile falters as she flusters on her word.

'Oh - oh god. I'm so sorry! There's usually a note and - oh, my apologies... well... shall we make sure they're all okay in there?'

You nod, making sure to put on a big smile to ease the nurse so she can get back into her rhythm. Carefully you roll your top up to reveal your belly... or lack there of.

'I... don't really have a bump? Is that normal? Are they okay?'

The nurse is quick to reassure, 'Don't worry! Bump size is different for everyone. Nothing to worry about but we'll double check, alright?'

Both Gran and Steve offer another soothing squeeze. Brandishing the gel, you’re given a warning.

‘Okay, hon, now this will be cold. You ready?’

You nod but the response is quickly cut off as the thick gel hits your stomach like ice sludge. An involuntary squeal escapes. Steve let’s out a snigger at your response and is met by glares from every woman in the room.

‘It’s not that bad, surely?’ He attempts to crack.

The unamused look on your face should’ve warned him not to push it. Quickly, your free hand swipes up a glob of the gel and slathers it on Steve’s exposed forearm. The squeak that escapes him is far more girlish than you ever could’ve produced. You smirk at his frown. How was this the response from a man who has been mauled by inter-dimensional creatures? Gran and the nurse cackle as he untwines his fingers from yours to rub at the frozen patch of skin.

‘Ok… point proven,’ he sulks.

After reapplying the gel, you all watch with bated breath as the scanner makes contact with your stomach. The smooth surface glides over the skin, searching. No one in the room dares to exhale. Now, your mind races with potential problems. You feel foolish for not being more concerned about the lack of bump. Despite everything, despite the colossal detour this baby has taken your life on, you want it to be there. You want it to be okay.

The sonogram screen looks nothing but like static to you. Jarring flickers of black and white. Nothing your eyes can recognise as a life form. It's all silent.

Then finally, a soft pulsing begins to echo out of the tinny speakers. The two hands digging into your skin finally relax a little.

'There we go,' the nurse beams, 'looks like we have a little burrower on our hands.'

The image stills and she pauses over the right spot. It's not exactly a breathtaking picture of what grows inside you. The edges are fuzzy, it's abstract. Like an impressionist painting of life.

'C-could you point it out... I'm not sure where they are on screen,' your voice is laced with embarrassment. As if not being able to instantly recognise the baby made you a bad mother. But I'm not a mother, I'm not going to be you have to remind yourself.

A blue gloved finger outlines a section on screen.

'Oh,' you gasp. It's so obvious now she shows you. 'A little banana.' The internal musing manages to pass your lips and three sets of eyes look at you confused.

'That's what the book said,' you stutter, 'by twenty weeks they'd be the size of a banana...'

The nurse chuckles along with Gran as Steve remains fascinated by the little wiggling form on screen.

'Yeah, that's about right,' the nurse adds, 'although I would say this is quite a little banana, but...'

She scans back over again to be sure, 'a very healthy little one!'

Gran leans presses a kiss to the side of your head.

'I knew it, it's all okay in there. You've done good,' as it did when you were small, her voice still soothes you like nothing else.

The question you've been dreading finally comes.

'So, Y/N, would you like to know the baby's gender?' The nurse smiles. Before you can stop yourself and compose a more succinct answer you blurt out,

'No!'

You're met back with surprised and alarmed blinking eyes. The nurse, Steve and Gran looking between each other to work out what just happened.

'The adoption agency don't require it. Just as long as they're healthy. That's all, that's fine,' you attempt to reason. Gran tucks a finger under your chin, her sharp eyes analysing your own.

'Are you sure you don't want to know darling?' She drawls out the 'sure' for emphasis.

'I'm sure. We're done.'

In the car home you feel embarrassed by your sharpness over the gender. Again you travel in awkward silence. One of the more exciting parts of pregnancy for most, just an uncomfortable experience for you. The open window causes the printed sonogram picture to flutter between your fingers. The motion causing the black and white haze to dance around like it had on screen. As if your banana size baby was hopping around. You wonder if they will start to bop around inside you, the nurse said they should start to move anytime now. Will they stay a little burrower or would they become a relentless little wriggler? Eddie's baby would definitely be a wriggler. You pinch your thigh for that thought. Thoughts like that now intrude daily, as if your own mind is trying to torture you. It's why you didn't want to know the gender.

The last thing you needed was another sliver of information that could paint a fantasy for you. Your imagination would only take the gender and run with it. It would allow you to truly picture the baby. What they'd look like, who they'd be or all the things they could've been had they been Eddie's. It feels cruel to say and it's why you didn't explain in the hospital room, but you don't want to humanise the baby. The more you pretend this is nothing more than a project or a transaction, the easier this will be. Already your heart hurts too much.

Over at The Hideout, Eddie squints in concentration, pushing escaping strands of hair out of his face. Sweat drips down his neck, skin exposed due to the ponytail. The stage lights are hot on him as he toys with the wiring for the amps and speaker system. All day he's spent setting the place up for a big gig. A few repeat guests supporting a once regular band that had gathered a lot of heat. Setting this night up made Eddie, for the first time, feel important and valued. A sensation that sent electric bolts through his body and not in the same way as earlier when an old wire sparked.

For a rundown bar in a dead end town, The Hideout had garnered a cult venue status for metal and rock bands dotted between Hawkins and Indianapolis. The headliners Kraven were familiar to Eddie, having played a few of the same shows as Corroded Coffin. More rock than metal but still good, very good. They had garnered a big hype, getting shows at real venues in the city and those getting rave reviews in magazines and the paper. Eddie had been pretty surprised they'd been down to come back to The Hideout for the end of summer event he'd organised. Carl had been impressed with his ability with the bar, quick to let Eddie become his right hand man. The ultimate approval was now getting granted permission to throw his very own event.

'Shit, bro. You fuckin set all this shit up already?' Taylor, the lead of Kraven appeared beside Eddie. Tanned skin littered with tattoos and messy waved bleach white hair; the perfect image of a rockstar.

'Um yeah, pretty much. It was no problem...' Eddie shrugs.

'Wicked, thanks dude. So, you still playin yourself?' Taylor asks casually as he strolls over to his guitar. Fingers artfully tuning it.

'No, not really. Band kinda broke up. They're all off to college and shit.'

Eddie feels a little embarrassed under Taylor's confident gaze. Embarrassed to admit his band had fallen apart to someone whose was thriving.

'Damn fuckin shame!' Taylor bellows into the microphone. His impressive voice echoing through the empty venue. 'You guys were pretty sick, y'know? Especially you bro. Fucking shredder!'

For a different reason now, Eddie blushes with embarrassment. But this time because someone like Taylor thinks he's talented. Thinks he hadn't just wasted his time with music.

'Oh, shit, well... thanks! Means a lo-'

'Wanna play with us tonight?' Taylor casually asks like it's nothing. He must notice the bafflement in Eddie's face so he continues.

'We're a man down. Lead guitarist ain't here. Was gonna just cover myself but... dunno, think it would pretty hardcore if you filled in?'

Eddie feels his jaw drop; now he's really flattered. The thought is nerve wracking but god, did he miss performing.

'Fuck... are you sure? I mean I don't even know your stuff?'

Taylor scoffs, 'Fuck yeah. Look you'd be doing us a favour and you're good, you'll pick it up easy over practice.'

The electricity running through Eddie increases tenfold. Who is he to refuse a guy as cool as Taylor? Plus, a desperate part in the back of his mind whispers a fantasy of you swooning seeing him on stage again for the first time in years.

As the stage lights came on, Eddie desperately resisted the temptation to rub his eyes; now lined in perfectly smudged black kohl. The Kraven look was a little different to Corroded Coffin's, more Studio 54 than biker bar. The rest of the band all exposed glittering skin, tight leather and mesh. After rehearsals, Eddie had gone back to the house to rummage for anything that fit the brief. His chosen look of skin tight shredded black jeans, home cut vest and leather jacket was met with approval.

'Let me just add the finishing touches,' the drummer's girlfriend had said.

She sat Eddie down, hovering over his lap as she artfully smudged the liner. Her eyes fixated on his own whilst smearing a layer of glitter over it. The intimacy of his pre-show rehearsal caused his imagination to picture you instead. When he closed his eyes it was you straddling his lap, soft fingertips sweeping on his eyelids and wishing him words of encouragement. Just as he had in the dressing room, Eddie stood on stage wondering what you'd think. Would you like this new look? Would you find it hot? He knows you like Bowie. Then there were other concerns, you hadn't seen him play since you'd left for New York. He's pretty sure he became a much better musician since then. Losing himself in Corroded Coffin in a desperate attempt to fill the void you left. Eddie prays you like this. Prays you enjoy watching him perform.

The spiralling thoughts are knocked out of Eddie as Taylor strums the first note on his guitar and the performance begins.

When the stage lights illuminate the figures on stage, you cough up your swig of cranberry juice. There is one guitarist up there who you definitely recognise. You'd arrived with the gang earlier, excited for the evening Eddie had worked hard organising. He'd miraculously left out the part where he would be performing himself. Steve pats your back from your choking whilst the rest of the group gawp.

'What the fuck?!' Robin shouts, 'is that Eddie?'

You nod feebly, still speechless. This band looked like a real band, Eddie looked like a star. Even from where you all huddled in your usual booth you could see him oozing effortless swagger.

'Did you know he was playing tonight?' Nancy asks in bafflement.

'No,' you reply meekly, 'not a clue...'

You hadn't seen Eddie play since you left for college. It appeared in the meantime he'd gotten even better. Argyle was up and rallying you all.

'Dudes, this is fuckin sweet! Come on we gotta go up there!'

Everyone was quick to file out the booth, weaving into the crowd to get closer to the stage. As if Eddie's guitar was a siren's call, you found yourself following them until a tug at your sleeve pulls you back.

Steve frowns, 'what are you doing? Are you sure that's safe?'

'I don't want to miss it! It'll look weird if I'm not there as well,' you're sure your voice whines like a teenager.

'Yeah but...' Steve's eyes full of worry flicker down to your stomach.

'It'll be okay, you'll stay with me right?' A dramatic sigh signals you've won the argument.

'Yes, fine, of course I will.'

Steve firmly grips your hand, shielding you as he pushes through the crowd until he finds the others.

Only a few rows back from the stage, you now see Eddie fully.

Framing his dark chocolate eyes are smudges of eyeliner and glitter that reflects the colourful lights. The make up makes his eyes even more intense. The two orbs seem to find you in the crowd and light up. Their magnetism making you feel like you're the only one in the room. His ringed fingers move faster and in more intricate ways than you've ever seen him do before. Fuck, Eddie was always a talented musician but he'd improved tenfold in the last two years. Not just him, however, the whole band look professional. All the members in perfect harmony. The songs not just covers or tunes thrown together in a garage, they're hits. You have no idea how Eddie has ended up a part of them, whoever they are but they're electrifying.

It's not just you who thinks so. The whole crowd moves like a wave, losing themselves in the music. In the corner of your eye you see Robin, Jonathan and Argyle's hair whipping round wildly. The sheer energy in the room makes the air thick and sticky. You can't help the way your eyes fixate on the beads of sweat trickling down Eddie's thick neck, over his collar bone, past his pecks and disappearing under his vest. This was torturous. As the band stop whilst the lead singer talks, you watch as Eddie removes his leather jacket. Strong but lean arms revealed.

When the band start back up a gasp sticks in your throat as he begins a solo. Damp curls falling as he concentrates on the notes he plays. Veins flexing under the taught porcelain skin of his arms. Like the rest of the crowd you scream. A family of bats dancing. You're unable to ignore the volume of female voices joining in on the cheering. Your blood boils with envy that others should be looking at your Eddie and thinking thoughts that slip out when you're alone in bed. You can't believe he's real. Yet, he is and painfully, he isn't yours. There's a room full of women here who he could go home with. Who aren't his best friend. Who aren't pregnant.

When they finally finish and file off the stage, Eddie's heart is still going like a jackhammer. Adrenaline from performing still coursing through his veins. Holy fuck he'd missed this. The other factor causing his pulse to race is raw jealousy. The entire show his eyes burnt at the spot where Steve's arm was wrapped tight around you. Large hand possessively gripping your shoulder, tucking you in beside him. That is not right, Eddie fumes, Steve isn't your protector or comfort, that's his role.

Congratulatory claps on his back shake Eddie out of his sulk. The guys from Kraven flocking round him.

'Eddie, bro that was fucking hardcore!'

'You're a lifesaver, dude, honestly!'

'You were on fire out there, my man!'

Eddie's cheeks flush with the praise from people he can't believe like him - think that he is talented.

'Oh, urm, thank you!' He stutters, 'thanks for letting me play! Look, I'm just gonna to see my friends, caught them in the crowd. I'll see you in a minute?'

The guys nod.

'No worries, bro. Just come back to the dressing room when you're done!' Taylor shouts after him as Eddie throws a thumbs up. Quick to run back into the bar and find you.

It takes Eddie a matter of seconds to spot you in the crowd. He's certain even if this were Madison Square Garden and he was blindfolded, he'd find you.

'Sweetheart!' He bellows over the chattering crowds and pulsing speakers.

Instantly your head whips round to see him, stood there in all his sweat covered glory. You're quick to slip out of Steve's arms and run into Eddie's.

'Ah I'm sweaty I don't wanna get you-' his protests are cut off as you slam into him. Oblivious and uncaring of his damp skin, you wrap your arms around his neck. Instinctively your fingers finding the damp curls at the back of his neck. He indulges and wraps his own tightly round your waist.

'Teddy, you were so fucking amazing,' you pull back so you can swat at his exposed chest from the sagging vest. 'Why didn't you tell me you were playing!'

Eddie chuckles at your childish frown and pout. His now calloused finger reaches to smooth down the line in your furrowed brow.

'Wasn't planned, sweets. They were a man down so I guess surprise...'

You let your fingers linger on his chest. Running your tips round over the hot smooth skin, a move that feels too intimate but you can't resist. It takes all of Eddie's strength not to groan at the feeling. He wonders if you feel how hard his heart beats under your touch. Wonders if you realise you're the cause.

'You were amazing. I mean, you always were but... now. That was something else! How could you keep that from me!'

His cheeks flush at your compliments. They feel so much more meaningful leaving your lips.

'You really think so?' He mumbles, 'guess I had a lot of time on my hands without you...'

The words pierce your heart. You knew the feeling, days became endless without Eddie. You didn't realise he'd felt the same through those two years. Pulling him back into a hug, you bury your face into the crook of his neck. It smells like sweat, smoke and his aftershave but it's all Eddie. It's home.

'I'm sorry,' you whisper. Your lips move against his skin and he lets himself pretend it's almost a kiss. He closes his eyes in bliss having you close like this. One arm pulling you tight against him, fingers trailing up your spine. The other wrapped round your shoulder, his tired hands running through your soft locks. Eddie sees how far he can push his luck as he presses his lips and nose to the crown of your head. Inhaling your smell whilst lightly pressing a kiss.

Back in the dressing room, Eddie is surprised to find the band gathered as if they're holding a meeting. A bizarre contrast to see such animated people wear such serious expressions.

'Eddie, hey! Come sit,' Taylor waves him over, pointing to a chair.

He sits down and looks around at the other guys awkwardly. All their eyes on him. It feels like a very strange AA meeting.

'So... you guys good? Happy with the show?' He asks to try and break the tension.

Keith the drummer chirps up.

'Yeah bro, we're good, real good. The show was sick. That's what we wanted to talk about actually...'

Keith nods to Taylor as if to signal for him to go on.

'Look, Eddie, I'll be real with you. Kraven, we're doing well. It's not been announced yet but... we're signed. We've been working on a debut album for a few months...'

Eddie's eyes widen. It does make sense, he wonders why they hadn't said though.

'Shit, guys, that's awesome. Well done-'

Taylor cuts Eddie off.

'That's not all... we may have come with ulterior motives. Our lead guitarist, tonight wasn't just a one off. He quit...'

Eddie's mouth forms a little 'O'.

'He decided going pro, it wasn't for him. It's cool. So we've been looking for a new lead. Then you called offering the gig and it was like, fuckin' serendipity. We all remembered how hardcore you were with your band.'

The rest of the band nod whilst Eddie's brain feels like it's about to malfunction.

'W-what are you guys saying?' He stumbles out.

'Well... we knew you were talented. Then tonight just proved our theory correct. Eddie, bro... we want you to join the band.'

For the first time in his life, Eddie Munson might be speechless. The silence is filled then by Spike their bass player.

'I know this sounds fuckin batshit brother but we were so good out there, together. You're better than this place, too talented to just be managing a bar in a random ass town. You could be doing the real thing with us, man. We've been out in Cali recording...'

Eddie scans the room, at the pleading faces before him. This feels like a dream. This can't be happening, shit like this is from movies, they don't happen to Eddie the freak Munson. And California? That's like a million miles away. He's barely left the state. It's a million miles away from you. From that New York plan he'd wishfully proposed. But then, what else does he really have? He can't just tag along on your life forever. Taylor coughs, interrupting his freak out.

'So, what do you say, dude... wanna be Kraven's lead guitar?'

tag list: @tlclick73 @probablyin-bed @fangirling-4-ever @booksarekindaneat @azydrateanatomy @sadbitchfangirl @fluffybunnyu @big-ope-vibes @beam86 @midnightsgetawaycar @stevieharringtonswife

103 notes · View notes

spiritsofprogress · 1 year ago

Text

Here’s how Figment can still win | updating the attraction

I envy those who got to experience the ride in its original form with dream finder and all, I really do. I remember being a kid In the early 2000s and my grandpa was excited to take us on it as it was his favorite ride, only to find it completely different. However, what you might not expect me to say is that I don’t think the current iteration of journey into imagination is bad! Do I think it lives up to the original? No, but Dr.Channing is decent and the concept is quite cute.

The problem is this iteration is a clear patch job done nearly 20 years ago and they’ve let it sit ever since. This sucks. Especially considering Disney and Epcot clearly realize how much pull Figment has as a character, people adore this purple dragon years after his debut (remember the popcorn bucket?). They’ll slap him on anything and everything for festivals… but his ride? Actual non festival attraction related merch? You get a shirt or two if you’re lucky! When I went recently there was a single shelf reserved for figment related items. A single shelf in a decently sized gift shop that was mainly filled with the same Toy Story summer line they overestimated in popularity. (I’ve never seen anyone buy or have something from this line). The state it’s in is sad, especially considering Disney pulls on figments popularity! He’s getting a meet and greet again so can we finally update the attraction! … I’ve also heard rumor of the rainbow tunnel returning….

My solutions-

As much as I wish it could, I don’t know if we’ll get the dream finder version of the ride back, but here’s my idea on how to update the ride with the storyline we do have. It’s a cute concept but they’re not doing it to the best it can be.

1. Make it longer! To say they shortened journey into imagination is a understatement, I have no idea what they’re using half of the building for. Make it longer- maybe do go into the smell and taste labs. Make some more elaborate scenes- show that chaos figment has brought to the institue! One of the best gags is in the queue and the poor secretary of Dr.Channing answering the phone every few seconds - give me that energy! Give me… imagination running wild! That’s literally the storyline with figment but he feels so… constrained? Lack of space as it’s so short.

2. 2D figment. I beg of you. I know when the ride was redone 3D animation was new and all the rage but… I’m sorry 3D figment is terrifying and super dated. Soft, cuddly and cute 2D figment is timeless. It wouldn’t be that hard to go over the same scenes just with a drawn model instead, this is a quick fix to Rodger rabbit it.

3. More characters. I’m not even asking for animatronics but you need to give us something more. Again, that secretary is just a gag but its such a good show of story we don’t get on the actual attraction. A fun idea you could do is have “Dean Finder” come out and be the only one to be able to calm figment down/understand him? Sort of nod to the OG besides just a door THEN they open Channings mind to imagination as something to be free. This equally lengthens the attraction.

4. It just makes me sad as they have a really good concept here and ERIC FLIPPING IDLE but don’t utilize such a great comedic actor to the potential I know they could have. Another thing I’d request is the return of a good imageworks that’s not 99% photo opportunities with random characters not seen anywhere else. Additionally if you don’t want to make a lot of merch for the ride that’s fine… make the gift shop smaller, which shouldn’t be a issue if you make the ride longer again.

It’s fascinating to me that Disney consistently lets such a beloved attraction down despite using it for merch and festivals. It’s also fascinating that despite getting a whole makeover the park is leaning into a retro futurism feel and a “Epcot center” vibe (this is a good thing). But again ignores this ride- It’d be costly, sure, what isn’t, but I think it’d be worth giving just a bit of attention.

#disney parks #disney world #walt disney world #Epcot #epcot center #journey into imagination #journey into your imagination #figment #figment the dragon #dreamfinder #Nigel Channing #disney rides #eric idle

49 notes · View notes

threewaywithdelusion · 1 year ago

Text

RoyJamieKeeley Fic

Still working on my RoyJamieKeeley post-S3 fic. I got stuck again for a while, but I got unstuck tonight, so he's a little snippet to celebrate.

A few days later, Keeley and Jamie left for Brazil for Jamie’s Nike shoot. Left alone for a week, Roy tried to keep busy so he wouldn’t think about them. He spent time with Phoebe, who was starting to get impatient for summer holiday but could be convinced to spend all her wayward energy on playing football with Roy. He saw the yoga mums twice, once for actual yoga and once for a night of drinking wine, watching rom coms, and gossiping. He told them he’d gotten back together with his ex-girlfriend and they all smiled and told him how happy they were for him and how much more of a grump he’d been without her. Roy didn’t mention that said girlfriend was dating another man at the same time and told himself it was just leaving out unimportant information and not actually lie, but he wasn’t sure he believed himself.

Roy also had a meeting with Rebecca, who told him she wanted to promote him to manager of Richmond. He called her mad to her face and she still seemed to think giving him the job was a good idea.

“I don’t want to do press conferences and shit,” Roy said.

Rebecca was unfazed. “Here are my options, Roy. I can make you manager, which is a job I think you’ll be good at. You know football, you know these boys, and they trust you, which makes you the best fit. I can make Nate manager, which I don’t particularly want to do after he defected to West Ham last year. He has experience and the boys seem to have forgiven him, but I don’t trust him enough yet to give him that much power. The other option is to bring in someone from outside the club. Higgins gave me a list of candidates and a lot of them are very qualified and are interested in working for Richmond now that we placed second in the Premier League, because they think they can get us a trophy next year. However, anyone I bring in is going to have their own style and they’re going to undo all the hard work Ted’s done over the past three years. And what Ted did, however unconventional, has been working for us. So, if you don’t take the job, any thoughts on how I should proceed?”

Roy grunted. It was a good argument and Rebecca knew it.

Roy liked coaching Richmond. He didn’t really want to work with some new shitbag coach who would come in acting like he knew anything. Who might tell the team to stop playing total football or take that shitty, ripped-up “believe” sign off the wall. Who might not flip Jamie off in the middle of a game or push him to go back out even with an injured ankle. Who might not support Sam’s protests when they cost the club their main sponsor or might not like the fact that Colin had a boyfriend. Who might not defend Isaac in a post-game interview after Isaac attacked a fan in the stands for his homophobic comments or who would hear that famous women got their private photos leaked and react with less horror than the rest of the Richmond boys.

Roy liked the culture Ted had created at Richmond. Sure, his methods had been downright insane at times, but they’d worked. This was a team that respected Keeley and Rebecca, that accepted Colin, and that tried to be good people as much as they tried to be good footballers.

Roy didn’t want to lose that.

“Fuuuuck,” he said, a curse of resignation and realization.

Rebecca knew him far too well at this point, because she just smiled victoriously. “I’ll have Higgins send you the paperwork this week. We’re also going to be looking at player transfers, so I’ll send you tapes for anyone we’re considering. Do you have any thoughts about which players we should take a look at?”

Roy grunted. He’d had this job for all of three seconds and Rebecca was already giving him work. He hadn’t even told Keeley yet.

“We need a centre back with more speed,” he said.

“Noted,” Rebecca said.

On the way home, Roy felt a strange kind of loneliness take over him.

He’d gotten a promotion and even though he’d resisted it, he kind of wanted to celebrate. Like when Keeley had been made a CEO of her own company and they’d popped champagne and Roy had spun her around and they’d fallen into bed together.

But Keeley was halfway around the world with Jamie. On vacation, even though she’d refused to go on vacation with Roy to Marbella last year. And Roy knew it was different — this was a work trip with some fun thrown in — but Keeley was just restarting her business with Rebecca as the main investor and she couldn’t possibly be less busy than she’d been last year.

A tiny, mean voice in Roy’s head said that the difference was Jamie. That Roy hadn’t been worth the time away from the office, but Jamie was.

Roy shoved the thought away.

He went home to his big empty house and stared at the bottle of champagne in the fridge. He couldn’t tell the yoga mums he’d been promoted because they still believed he was an accountant and he had no fucking clue what accountants did or what the fuck their position was when they got promoted. Plus, he didn’t want to spend all evening lying about the job he was celebrating.

The team was scattered around the world, visiting their home countries and families while they were on summer holiday. What other friends did Roy have? Keeley, who was his girlfriend again? Jamie, who was Keeley’s other boyfriend and was also not in the country? Rebecca, who was more his friend through the transitive property than anything and was also his boss?

Fuck this.

Roy took the bottle from the fridge. He was about to pop the cork and drink straight from the bottle when his phone dinged with an incoming message.

It was a series of photos from Keeley, showing her and Jamie shopping. One photo showed Keeley in a dressing room, trying on a dress that made her look fucking amazing. Another showed Jamie with about fifty bags dangling from his arms, posing like he was lifting weights. Keeley was standing beside him, holding one tiny bag, and grinning widely at having a fit footballer to play her pack mile. Then there was a picture of Keeley standing next to a suitcase with a price tag on it, presumably something she was buying to bring all her new clothes back to England, a cute guilty smile on her face. The last picture showed the two of them in a store, both wearing black leather jackets. The one on Keeley was ridiculously oversized and the comical frowns on both of their faces told Roy that they were dressing up as him.

Another text arrived from Keeley.

Miss you! Do you want either of these jackets?

Roy was very picky about his leather jackets, something that Keeley had learned early in their first go at a relationship when she’d tried to buy him a present. It may seem like Roy put no effort into his all-black look, but he was very particular about what clothes he thought was worth buying.

It was sweet of Keeley to ask.

Send a video, Roy texted back.

A minute later, his phone dinged. The video was of Keeley in a dressing room, wearing a shimmery grey dress with one of the Roy-sized leather jackets over it. Roy had clearly interrupted her in the middle of trying on half the store because there were clothes over every inch of the dressing room. Keeley did a little spin for the camera and Roy caught Jamie’s reflection in the dressing room mirror, smiling at Keeley like he was in love.

Fuck.

Would Roy have had that indulgent, lovestruck expression on his face if Keeley had dragged him shopping for stupid graffiti clothes for Jamie? This was Jamie’s holiday with Keeley and she was still taking the time to message Roy and Jamie didn’t seem to mind at all.

Roy’s phone dinged again, this time a message from Jamie. It was another video, showing Jamie walking along a wall of all-black clothes, including at least four different leather jackets.

“I think we found your store, mate,” Jamie said, panning the camera so Roy could see the words John John lit up in the back over the counter.

Fuck. Roy was being a sorry sad sack and a bit of a prick. And he absolutely refused to be the biggest prick in a relationship that included Jamie Tartt.

You look beautiful, he sent Keeley. I like the jacket Jamie was wearing.

Keeley sent back a series of smiley face emojis.

Roy called her and she picked up on the second ring. “Hi, babe? How’s London?”

“I miss you,” Roy said. It was probably the easiest thing he’d ever said. Usually, Roy had trouble expressing any emotion that wasn’t anger and he knew that. But missing Keeley was all-consuming. It was a physical ache inside him, just as real as the pain from his knee, and he didn’t know how not to say it.

“I miss you too,” Keeley said.

“How’s Brazil?” Roy asked.

“It’s good! I think the photoshoot with Nike went really well. They might offer Jamie a larger deal as a brand ambassador when we get back, but don’t tell Jamie that. I’m negotiating right now and I’m not sure it’ll go through.”

“I’m sure it well,” Roy said. “You’re a brilliant negotiator.”

“You’ve never seen me negotiate,” Keeley said.

“Sure I have,” Roy said. “What about that time you convinced me to try being a pundit.”

“That was in your best interest, and I’m pretty sure we were arguing.”

“Or that time you convinced me to go to that launch party for that watch company you were promoting.”

“You have to admit, that was great press,” Keeley said. “Everyone’d heard the story about your ex stealing your Rolex, so you replacing the Rolex with a John Hubert watch really connected the two brands in everyone’s minds.”

“Well what about the time you convinced me to both cook and do the dishes when I made you a fancy dinner?”

“I bribed you with blowjobs,” Keeley said. “I don’t think I can use the same strategy here.”

Roy laughed. He felt so much better after talking to Keeley for just five minutes. Suddenly, he didn’t care that she was a continent away. He still wanted to tell her the good news.

“Is Jamie there?” he asked.

“He’s in his own dressing room,” Keeley said.

Roy was surprised. He figured Keeley and Jamie would take shopping as a chance to watch each other strip in the same dressing room. But he knew fuck all about shopping, so maybe it wasn’t that weird that they were in two different stalls.

“Can you get him?”

There was a long pause that Roy knew was Keeley working through her surprise before she said, “Yeah, just a sec.” Her voice sounded slightly farther away as she called “Jamie!”

A moment later Keeley’s voice came out sounding a little more robotic. “You’re on speaker, babe.”

Roy cleared his throat. “I talked to Rebecca today. She made me manager.”

“What?” Keeley said, sounding stunned.

Yeah, maybe he should have worked up to that instead of announcing it right out the gate.

“She gave me Ted’s job,” Roy repeated.

A whoop went up from Jamie, so loud that Roy had to pull the phone away from his head so he wouldn’t blow out his eardrums.

“Congrats, mate! That’s fucking mint.”

Roy grunted. He didn’t say that he was bricking it over trying to fill Ted’s shoes, but Keeley must have released because she said, “You’re going to be amazing, babe. I’m so proud of you!”

“I don’t know,” Jamie said. “I mean, mostly Roy’s been coaching me so far. I’ve got more talent than all the boys on the team and I’m a pleasure to coach, so you can’t measure Roy’s success by how brilliant a player I am.”

“You’re a fucking nightmare to coach,” Roy said, even though it wasn’t actually true. Jamie did anything Roy said, even when it was embarrassing or he was pushing his body beyond what most coaches would demand of him. Roy liked telling Jamie what to do and seeing how hard he would work to achieve the impossible, even when the only reward was a little grunt from Roy.

“I guess we’ll see if you can bring the other lads up to my level,” Jamie said, cockiness and disbelief in Roy’s coaching skills rolling together in his voice.

Weirdly, Jamie’s pestering filled Roy with confidence that he could do this. He would be the best damn manager Richmond had ever seen, if only to prove to Jamie that he was wrong.

“Be careful what you wish for,” Keeley told Jamie sweetly and that buoyed Roy the rest of the way up. Keeley believed in him. She believed in him enough to tell Jamie to suck it, even if she did it in nicer terms.

Roy wanted to tell her he loved her, but the first time he told her after they got back together couldn’t be over the phone, with Jamie listening in, while Keeley was on another continent.

Instead, Roy just said, “At least I know what the fucking offside rule is.”

Jamie and Keeley both laughed, though Jamie laughed harder. Roy wasn’t sure Keeley knew the offside rule, which was a travesty given how many footballers she’d dated.

“Well celebrate when I get back,” Keeley said. “That’s wonderful news, babe. I’m so happy for you.”

They said their goodbyes and when Roy hung up the phone, he felt a lot more determined and a lot less alone.

He checked his inbox to find an email from Higgins with his new contract and and some player files with stats and videos. Several promising young players were listed, as well as some old-timers on their way to retirement from some of the better clubs.

He poured himself a glass of champagne and settled in to do his job.

#royjamiekeeley #ted lasso #roy kent #Keeley jones #jamie tartt #mia writes fanfic #ted lasso fanfiction

38 notes · View notes

mariana-oconnor · 1 year ago

Text

The Naval Treaty pt 3

Yes, we apparently have got to the point where I'm memeing myself.

Right, last time, after Percy, Watson's old 'pal' from school failed magnificently at understanding how to protect confidential data, he followed an old woman into the night and the stress gave him a brain fever. Meanwhile, I'm still certain that Joseph Harrison, who has not been implicated in any way, is involved because I am a well-balanced and entirely reasonable person.

Mr. Joseph Harrison drove us down to the station

See! He's trying to get rid of you! 🤣🤣😂

“It's a very cheery thing to come into London by any of these lines which run high, and allow you to look down upon the houses like this.”

Last time we had Holmes looking out a train window: Ugh, look how terrible the countryside is! I can't bear it.

The contrast is palpable.

“The board-schools.” “Light-houses, my boy! Beacons of the future! Capsules with hundreds of bright little seeds in each, out of which will spring the wise, better England of the future. I suppose that man Phelps does not drink?”

Board schools are not the same as boarding schools, the internet tells me, but the first state run schools with no religious affiliation. I was about to be cynical about Holmes' view of children and Victorian educational standards, but I can't. He's right, those schools were important and really did pave the way for a brighter future.

And then a bit of mental whiplash as he snaps back to the case at hand, because he's Holmes.

In answer to the question, I can't say whether Percy drinks alcohol, but he definitely has a caffeine addiction that he should work on. If not for that, he wouldn't be in this mess.

Also, it was unreasonable of his uncle to expect him to copy so much text in a foreign language in one night. But even so, Percy needs to work harder on curbing his need for coffee.

"Then came the smash, and she stayed on to nurse her lover, while brother Joseph, finding himself pretty snug, stayed on too."

Oh, so he's just hanging around leeching off people, huh? Exactly as I suspected! This is just the beginning. Clearly, he's been a wrong'un all along and I will be vindicated.

"But to-day must be a day of inquiries.” “My practice—” I began. “Oh, if you find your own cases more interesting than mine—” said Holmes, with some asperity.

First of all, Watson does have a job, Holmes. I get that you want to play with him, but he does have responsibilities. You really shouldn't be bitchy about that.

Second, if Watson actually cares enough about his patients to ditch you, that would be the first time ever.

“I was going to say that my practice could get along very well for a day or two, since it is the slackest time in the year.”

See. No problem at all. Why would Watson ever do his actual job when he could be running around with Holmes? What a preposterous idea!

"...there is Lord Holdhurst.” “Lord Holdhurst!” “Well, it is just conceivable that a statesman might find himself in a position where he was not sorry to have such a document accidentally destroyed.” “Not a statesman with the honorable record of Lord Holdhurst?”

Oh Watson, my sweet summer child. Out there believing in unicorns and fairies and honourable politicians.

I discounted him because honestly, a political plot involving the politician uncle and corruption seemed too spy thriller. Also, the time frame of everything being nine weeks ago, I think discounts a political motive because if there were spy games going on, it would be far too late to do anything about it. Of course, it might be the case. These stories have surprised me a few times so far.

“£10 reward. The number of the cab which dropped a fare at or about the door of the Foreign Office in Charles Street at quarter to ten in the evening of May 23d. Apply 221b, Baker Street.”

The Bank of England inflation calculator tells me that's equivalent to approximately £1000 today, which is a pretty impressive reward for a little bit of information. Honestly, I'd expect people to be climbing out of the woodwork to say they saw Queen Victoria herself driving the cab and dropping off Jack the Ripper.

"Why yes, Mr Holmes, I saw a man with a long white beard and carrying a large sack. No, it was right odd, y'see: he didn't go in through the door. He climbed up on' roof and went down the chimney, that he did."

"And then, of course, there is the bell—which is the most distinctive feature of the case. Why should the bell ring?"

This is what I'm most interested in. What is up with that bell?

He sank back into the state of intense and silent thought from which he had emerged; but it seemed to me, accustomed as I was to his every mood, that some new possibility had dawned suddenly upon him.

Tell me! Tell me! I need to know. The bell is plaguing me.

a small, foxy man with a sharp but by no means amiable expression.

So Lestrade is a ferret and Forbes is a fox. Must all police officers be described as animals? This appears to be a pattern.

“You are ready enough to use all the information that the police can lay at your disposal, and then you try to finish the case yourself and bring discredit on them.” “On the contrary,” said Holmes, “out of my last fifty-three cases my name has only appeared in four, and the police have had all the credit in forty-nine. I don't blame you for not knowing this, for you are young and inexperienced, but if you wish to get on in your new duties you will work with me and not against me.” “I'd be very glad of a hint or two,” said the detective, changing his manner.

Forbes changes his tune pretty quickly here, so he seems open minded enough. Although it does seem a bit like he doesn't understand the purpose of Holmes. Yes, he's supposed to take all the evidence the police give him and try to solve the case. That's kind of how being a detective works. I get the emphasis here is on 'yourself', but still.

I like this exchange, because we've already seen in the stories that Holmes really doesn't care about the notoriety or the accolades - though he's more than willing to display gifts he's given in his own home - it's entirely the case and helping the people involved that he cares about.

Not sure he really needed to say that 'you are young and inexperienced' bit, though. Seems a tad direct.

“We have set one of our women on to her. Mrs. Tangey drinks, and our woman has been with her twice when she was well on, but she could get nothing out of her.”

OK, I thought it sounded unlikely that there were female police officers in the late 1800s, and it seems like the first female police officer in London was in 1919. But it definitely appears from this that they have women working for them - unless one of them has set his wife on a suspect, which... fair. Fascinating either way.

Also, Mrs Tangey has an alcohol problem, that could be an angle.

“What explanation did she give of having answered the bell when Mr. Phelps rang for the coffee?” “She said that he husband was very tired and she wished to relieve him.”

Alright, so it either was her, or she's involved in some way. Which I think we already suspected, but this clarifies that no one impersonated her without her knowledge, at least.

“Did you point out to her that you and Mr. Phelps, who started at least twenty minutes after he, got home before her?” “She explains that by the difference between a 'bus and a hansom.”

That's fair. Not everyone can afford their own taxi. Check your privilege, Holmes.

Standing on the rug between us, with his slight, tall figure, his sharp features, thoughtful face, and curling hair prematurely tinged with gray, he seemed to represent that not too common type, a nobleman who is in truth noble.

I may have rolled my eyes at this bit. Watson sometimes needs to back off on his earnest belief in the glory of England and its political and social systems. He's so classist it's actually painful at some points. Even if he's saying the type is 'not too common' it just makes me wrinkle my nose.

I also don't like Lord Holdhurst, but that's mainly because I believe hereditary nobility is immoral and also because he is a tory politician. There was never any hope of me liking him. I don't think he murders puppies, but I bet he'd pass legislation saying that murdering puppies is okay in certain circumstances if his old chum wanted to start a puppy murdering business and was a generous donor.

"I fear that the incident must have a very prejudicial effect upon his career.”

Yeah, that I do agree with.

“But if the document is found?” “Ah, that, of course, would be different.”

This, I do not agree with. Not after nine weeks, anyway. If it had been a couple of hours and the document was found to have fallen down the gap between the desk and the wall then he could probably just be given extra training and not allowed to touch confidential documentation without supervision for a few years. But it's been nine weeks. That treaty is lost. Even if it's returned, he still lost it for nine weeks.

“Did you ever mention to any one that it was your intention to give any one the treaty to be copied?” “Never.” “You are certain of that?” “Absolutely.”

OK. That cuts off that line of thinking, as Watson's insistence on him looking 'noble' clearly means we're supposed to believe him. But we already knew it wasn't him.

Because it's Joseph Harrison.

“If the treaty had reached, let us say, the French or Russian Foreign Office, you would expect to hear of it?” “I should,” said Lord Holdhurst, with a wry face.

Like I say, any political motivations would have been thoroughly completed by now, before Holmes was even called upon, so that's not likely.

“Of course, it is a possible supposition that the thief has had a sudden illness—” “An attack of brain-fever, for example?”

Given he called Holmes in, I sincerely doubt Percy's involved. Again, if this weren't a Sherlock Holmes story, there's a slim possibility it could be that his brain fever cause amnesia meaning that he doesn't remember taking the treaty and causing the whole problem, but that doesn't seem like a likely plot here.

“But he has a struggle to keep up his position. He is far from rich and has many calls. You noticed, of course, that his boots had been re-soled?"

OK so now we give him a motive, when you've all just gone on about how he's a 'fine fellow'? Are Lord Holdsworth's money problems going to be relevant to the plot? Maybe. We've heard nothing of Percy having any cousins, so as it stands he might be his uncle's heir. Not sure how that would lead to the treaty being stolen, but we'll bear it in mind.

Ah, and then Watson is racist again. Native Americans this time. These stories are really trying to spread the racism around, aren't they. This whole section is strange though, because it's about how Watson can't read Holmes' face, when multiple times (in this very story) he's said how he knows Holmes so well that he can instantly tell from his face what Holmes is thinking.

“God bless you for saying that!” cried Miss Harrison. “If we keep our courage and our patience the truth must come out.”

She and Watson should get together and have optimist meetings.

Although, it's definitely your brother, Miss Harrison. I don't know how, but it is. It's got to be. We're running out of suspects. Mrs Tangey seems like she might be involved, but I doubt she's the mastermind behind events.

Maybe Joseph just bribed her into trying to discredit Percy, she saw the paper and thought 'well this looks important' and took it not really knowing what it was.

But that doesn't explain the bell. Unless it's because she was drunk and she stumbled and grabbed it. Or she didn't really want to be doing it, so she pulled it in a weird attempt to get caught. Or she let Harrison in and then saw him stealing something and pulled the bell, only to be threatened if she said anything.

“Yes, we have had an adventure during the night, and one which might have proved to be a serious one.” His expression grew very grave as he spoke, and a look of something akin to fear sprang up in his eyes. “Do you know,” said he, “that I begin to believe that I am the unconscious centre of some monstrous conspiracy, and that my life is aimed at as well as my honor?”

He's probably right to be worried - maybe not for his life, but I'm pretty sure this entirely thing is aimed at him, not the treaty. But at the same time, this does not sound like the thinking of a mentally healthy person.

"A man was crouching at the window."

No. No, you see it could be him. Of course you're going to want to make it seem like it was someone from outside forcing their way in. To keep the suspicion off the people who live in the house. It has to be him. Has to be.

Did he have a knife, or was it just something that looked like a knife... like...

uh...

The thing he used to unlock the window?

"As it was, I rang the bell and roused the house. It took me some little time, for the bell rings in the kitchen and the servants all sleep upstairs. I shouted, however, and that brought Joseph down, and he roused the others."

Oh oh... convenient, being the first person on the scene, huh? Was that because you weren't in bed asleep at all? Mr Joseph Harrison?

(If I am by some miracle right about this, it will be entirely undeserved as literally the only reason I decided it was him is because he seemed too happy and his sister is getting married)

"There's a place, however, on the wooden fence which skirts the road which shows signs, they tell me, as if some one had got over, and had snapped the top of the rail in doing so."

Okay... well... well... that doesn't really fit with my theory at all, but maybe it's a coincidence. People climb over fences all the time. Maybe it happened ages ago. I bet they don't check the fences every day. Totally not a sign I'm wrong.

“Oh, yes, I should like a little sunshine. Joseph will come, too.”

Why?

No, seriously. Why? Percy says Joseph will come, but not his fiancee? That's weird. Is it because Joseph is stronger if Percy needs to be carried back?

"I should have thought those larger windows of the drawing-room and dining-room would have had more attractions for him.” “They are more visible from the road,” suggested Mr. Joseph Harrison.

And right here we have the classic Columbo moment. I know Sherlock Holmes came first, no need to send me angry messages. But this is something that happens in Every. Single. Columbo. It's part of his method, it's kind of his whole method. He makes a comment about 'I wonder why the murderer didn't do x' to the person he (and the audience) knows is the murderer and the villain, in an attempt to cover their own tracks, immediately presents an explanation.

“Do you think that was done last night? It looks rather old, does it not?” “Well, possibly so.”

Aw shucks, is Holmes not falling for your clever ruse? What a pity!

“Miss Harrison,” said Holmes, speaking with the utmost intensity of manner, “you must stay where you are all day. Let nothing prevent you from staying where you are all day. It is of the utmost importance.” “Certainly, if you wish it, Mr. Holmes,” said the girl in astonishment.

Not the weirdest thing Holmes has ever asked a person to do - still remember Watson pretzeling himself behind the headboard that one time - but still kinda weird. I hope she has some sort of enrichment in her enclosure. Tell me she has a bookcase at least.

“Why do you sit moping there, Annie?” cried her brother. “Come out into the sunshine!”

Look! LOOK! He's trying to get her out of the room. He hid the treaty in the room and now he's trying to get it back but he can't! All aboard the Joseph Harrison train, next stop: Vindication.

Got to assume that even though Joseph wasn't present when Holmes was speaking to Anne, or when he was speaking to Percy, he will be aware that Percy is not in the house. But he'll only be able to break into the room by the window again, so I guess that is the plan. To catch him red-handed.

#Letters from Watson #The Naval Treaty #Sherlock Holmes #long post #It's beginning to look like I'm right #But that's absolutely nothing to do with my problem solving ability and everything to do with my natural paranoia and distrust #Also ACD has a type #We saw it in The Copper Beeches and in The Greek Interpreter #Men who laugh too much and smile too easily

33 notes · View notes

theshadowrealmitself · 1 year ago

Text

Unfortunately, because of spiderverse, it has me once again thinking of the citadel of ricks, and I know I’m not gonna stop thinking about it till I get it out of my system so:

- my ideal au for Diane (other than ones where she’d be in Rick’s place making portal guns) is one where after a fight with Rick, she accidentally sets off one his inventions and gets trapped in it

Because of the fight and how his relationship with Diane usually goes in other universes, Rick thinks Diane fully walked out on him and Beth, it’s not till way later, a little bit after his adventures with Morty start, that Morty accidentally frees her while messing with Rick’s stuff, to her it feels like no time has passed

- it’s early enough that they aren’t all completely messed up, but there is obvious problems in the family, and with Diane being back, they start to work on them and actually heal

- Diane’s main struggle is not knowing how to fit back into her family, her husband has been without her for so long, and although Diane can easily slip back into how they used to be, it’s going to be difficult because Rick isn’t the exact same he used to be, and it wouldn’t be fully healthy to just. y’know. pretend that nothing happened

Also, even tho she didn’t mean to abandon Beth, Beth still gained abandonment issues, she completely missed her growing up, and now she doesn’t even know if she has the right to yell at Jerry for being rude to her daughter

Speaking of Jerry, she doesn’t like him. At all. Like obviously Beth also has problems, but combine it with the fact that Beth is her daughter and her guilt at accidentally missing out on her childhood, she doesn’t really see Beth’s problems in her marriage to Jerry, but she’s very aware of Jerry’s

Especially with things like him disrespecting Beth’s job or whenever he decides to pull his “man of the house” nonsense where he gets angry that the family isn’t doing what he wants specifically because he’s a man and he doesn’t care that literally none of the rest of the family want to do his thing, Diane thinks he’s terrible for her daughter and is teaching horrible things to her grandchildren

But she doesn’t say anything because she doesn’t feel like the she has the right to, and she doesn’t want to hurt her grandchildren, who might see her rejecting their dad and think that it’s her rejecting a part of them, so she politely puts up with Jerry (but is constantly on the edge of begging Rick to make him disappear)

And when it comes to her grandchildren, she actually adjusts much better, she still feels guilty about not having been there for them growing up, but because they aren’t people she used to know who have been drastically changed by time, slipping into the role of their grandma was surprisingly easy for her

- Diane spends most of her time getting adjusted to modern times, which Summer and Morty excitedly help her out with, as well as working on her relationship with Rick

(it takes a bit before her and Beth feel ready to work on their relationship, with Beth’s tendency to pretend everything is fine and wanting to avoid upsetting her mom in case she “leaves” again, while Diane doesn’t even know how to begin apologizing to Beth, but they get there, eventually)

- as much as Diane feels guilty for what happened (because it was a small argument that got blown out of proportion to the point where she was trying to sabotage some of Rick’s inventions because she was angry, and got trapped in one) Rick feels even more guilty, because it was his invention, and he feels like maybe if he looked for her more instead of accepting she had left, or if the argument hadn’t happened, or if he checked his devices more often, she would’ve gotten to see her daughter grow up

So he does whatever he can to make things right, it’s his wake up call, he doesn’t become perfect overnight, but he starts going to therapy, being nicer to his family, being the best husband he can be, planning tons of family vacations, etc, anything to try and make up for “robbing” her of so many of the years she was supposed to have with them

- Morty and Summer love their grandma, not only is Rick being so much nicer with her around, but she tries hard to be a good role model to them, and they get to make a lot of happy family memories with her (especially by stealing the ship and showing her fun stuff they learned from Rick, and Rick doesn’t end up as upset with them when it makes his wife happy)

Beth is jealous of them at first, with them getting to make happy memories with her mom and her actually being there for them, she still struggles with her idolized idea of her mom, her mom never actually walking out on them, and her resentment of her that she never acknowledged growing up, but she does work on it and stops seeing her kids as competition

- how does this relate to the Citadel? They visit there occasionally in this au, and it’s always a difficult visit for everyone involved (including the alternate Ricks and their families), but they’re still visits that everyone appreciates (sometimes the Morty schools beg her to visit as a guest speaker, or Mortys write to her as if she’s their council member to ask her to get the Ricks to be nicer to them)

Would it be better if Diane and Rick just divorced or whatever? Maybe, but this my au, and for this one specifically, I just want to see them work on themselves and heal and actually be happy together

20 notes · View notes

thestobingirlie · 1 year ago

Note

do you think jonathan and nancy were equal trainwrecks in st3? you've spoken really well about how nancy bulldozed over him a lot, ignoring the dark room rules and continuing with the investigation even when he said it was a bad idea, and of course after they're fired she shows 0 sympathy for what it means for him financially, but i've always thought if nancy was bulldozer then jonathan was just a doormat, and kind of a two-faced one at that

before they fell into the investigation, he did ignore the sexism nancy faced. the support he offered was passive "they're assholes, but you'll win them over some day", when later during their argument he said she was naive for caring what they thought and thinking she could be a star reporter. when nancy says the whole summer had been humiliating, he likens it all to them being interns, when he was actually treated really well at the job. he's obviously faced shitty treatment in the past from his father, and probably at school and around town, but at the paper he was left alone to do the work he was hired (and interested) in doing, and then didn't have any focus on him when they were being yelled at, even though from the newspaper's perspective he did the exact same amount of bad as nancy (or more, considering nancy was laughed off of any other responsibilities than fetching food; jonathan was treated as an actual employee with a work station he abandoned)

it sucks that only jonathan apologized (though only for not believing in nancy, instead of also entirely blaming her for choices he also made), not just because nancy also fucked up but because it's just more of the same of jonathan not actually being honest with nancy and shows how their characters just don't help each other grow or develop

oh 100%. neither jonathan or nancy are good in their relationship in s3, which i think is what really turned me off to them together.

jonathan is absolutely a doormat. i think it comes from his years of parentification. he doesn’t stand up for himself until he’s finally pushed to the edge. which in s3 happens when they get fired, and he unleashes what he’s likely been feeling and thinking this entire time.

he whines about nancy coming in the dark room, but doesn’t actually try to stop her. he tries to cheer nancy up about how she’s treated, but doesn’t actually do anything to stop it, or make her situation better because he’s too scared to rock the boat. he didn’t want to go along with her rat plan, but did anyway!

he’s just really terrible at standing up for himself, which is a major issue when in a relationship with someone like nancy, who does what she’s set her sights on and doesn’t really listen to other people.

and when it comes to the sexism, i think, like nancy when it comes to the byers poverty, he has a hard time recognising what he’s never experienced.

i think it also might come from this aspect of jonathan’s character that’s been present since s1, which is that he doesn’t really recognise ‘normal’ issues. this is hard to put on paper, but basically we see that he doesn’t take nancy seriously, he thinks she’s just like everyone else, who has the same issues with her parents that everyone else does and she’ll eventually fall into the same miserable dynamics.

i think this comes from the way jonathan retreats from society and casts himself as a loner. he can’t fit in, so he has to dismiss everyone else, and he can’t take them or their trauma seriously. because that kind of means acknowledging them as people in a way he doesn’t want to do.

think back to s2, the way he comforts will is that nobody likes boring people, and that sticking out and being different is the only way to be cool and loved.

i think jonathan just can’t really comprehend nancy struggling because in his eyes, she has it all. she’s got the house, she’s got the dad making six figures, her parents are together. when she complains, i think he sometimes gets stuck thinking about how much she has, instead of what she’s still missing.

i hope i worded that right? it’s kinda jumbled in my head. i don’t think jonathan necessarily thinks his trauma makes him special, but i think he struggles to look past his trauma when considering how other people struggle.

my biggest issue with how rushed their apologies were, isn’t just that nancy doesn’t take back the oliver twist comment, but because we don’t actually get that chance for jonathan and nancy to truly talk about what happened, and their issues, and how their relationship falls apart the second they experience conflict. obviously people say, “oh they’re about to be attacked, of course it was quick”. but, the duffers could’ve had them had a conversation whenever. they go back to hopper’s cabin and spend all night here! they couldn’t have had a talk when everything calmed down?

in my opinion, jonathan and nancy are just two people that, because of their trauma and the way they approach relationships, shouldn’t be together. until they truly work through all their issues and develop as characters, they won’t have a healthy relationship. and that’s because of both of them, not just nancy, and not just jonathan.

#jonathan byers #nancy wheeler #anti jancy #stranger things #asks #anon

32 notes · View notes

izloveshorses · 4 months ago

Note

Why not all of them?

But just for starters, what about the one where they sneak around and fuck all summer? I think that's my favorite one of yours to read.

lol ayyeeeeeee i can work with that!!!

for clarification to those who missed, anon is asking for a director's cut commentary of this fic!

let's split this up section by section, bc it's a long fic 💀

section one:

we start us off with the classic post canon divergent "they missed each other on the bridge, so now anya is fully committed to being anastasia until one day dmitry strolls back into town" au. full disclosure i started this fic fully committed to not thinking too hard about very much ahdlksjf so dmitry literally strolls back into her life without any further explanation. in the fic before in this series, they obviously expressed some feelings ashldjkf but they didn't exactly Talk about any of it, so there's a lot left to be said here. but at the same time, once it's all out in the open-- that they simply miss each other-- they're on the same page and are able to start right where they left off, if that makes any sense.

idk how detailed you want me to be about the smut lol but in general i think anya is like always down to Jump him and dmitry has to catch up. and i think, based on descriptions of how the murder was executed (gunshots and bayonets to the chest) anya would have some pretty graphic scars that might cause some insecurity.

and when they're done, even tho they said they love each other, i think dmitry would still assume he wasn't welcome to stay the night/ that she didn't actually want him long term. which is dumb i know lol but he's an overthinker and has low self esteem, so can u blame him? so that moment towards the end of this section where anya asks him to stay was supposed to have a some emotional weight to it. and the line from the next morning, “I just really, really don’t want my second introduction with your grandmother to start with me buck naked in your bed," makes me laugh every time 🙈

section two:

this is how we go from just a silly night together to a ~pattern~. a habit. i like the bit with the tiara, this whole scene sort of spawned from that thought. i really really love writing pillow talk, which is this entire fic ahlskjdf so this scene they're just cuddling and chatting and i had a lot of fun <3 anya is sort of his common sense filter? she gives him very logical ideas of where to find a job and he's like oh i hadn't thought of that 🧐 it's just that they are both sort of lost at this point and they help each other find ways to ground themselves, reconcile the hardships they lived through with the lives they are living now, and get through the day, one step at a time.

section three:

montage moment! this scene was originally split into two or three and in different spots, but in order to fit everything we had to condense a bit. i knew we needed a moment with vlad, both to see how he's doing emotionally without his friend and bc it's funny to think about anya being a little flustered when the subject of dmitry comes up lol. the bit with the birthday gift was originally closer to the scene with the party/dancing/etc that dmitry gets invited to! but anya's birthday is in june so for the timeline to work out her birthday had to be earlier in the fic anyway. and i wanted the party to be later so their public reunion™ wouldn't raise too many questions yet, so the scene was split. it took me a long time to decide What the king of random gifts gives her, but i think a camera was perfect bc anastasia did carry one around a lot <3 nicholas was a big fan of photography and had all sorts of cameras laying around and was a fiend about documenting his family. so anya would have that muscle memory in her :)

this scene was also important to plant the seeds of how they aren't quite on the same page about the future. they're super into each other, obviously, but they haven't really talked about anything long term yet beyond tomorrow. anya wants something permanent but doesn't want to pop the happy bubble yet.

section four:

this might be my favorite part of the whole fic. i'm a simple girl, i love dmitry cooking and i love soft domesticity and (again) i love cuddling and pillow talk <33 this was meant to give them a taste (no pun intended) of what life could be like if she wasn't anastasia™, and it gives them a reason to be a little discontent with what's going on now. dmitry's work hours are Icky and anya doesn't really like her life as anastasia at all aslhkjdf but also they only have each other in a very limited way.

and again, they aren't on the same page in regards to the future, though they don't know it yet. again anya sort of tests the idea of marriage but dmitry still hasn't quite wrapped his head around the belief that he's actually enough for her. unlike his former conman lifestyle™ of reaching for things out of his reach, he thinks he needs to try to be content with what he has while he has it, because he's not used to people wanting him for more than a little fling. obviously anya is the love of his life and he's hers, but he doesn't really know how to believe that yet.

section five:

another montage moment! i wrote some of this very early on in the process <3 i really liked the part where they talk about their parents and how dmitry is a royalist now lol but i wasn't really sure where to put it in the fic 💀 but this is where it landed. and i also like anya telling him about the callers lined up for tomorrow, bc she finds it absolutely hilarious that anyone would even try to court her when her beautiful secret bf dmitry exists! and of course dmitry would just be sulky and jealous and sad at first. the man is too insecure. but she's like no mister this is supposed to be funny 😤 anyway yeah they are very cute to me 🙈

section six:

once again anya is always down to jump him 🌚 i knew there needed to be a moment where the dowager and anastasia would go out of town to visit relatives at some point, and who doesn't love good ol reunion sex lol. and i knew vlad would invite dmitry to a Function, and i knew there needed to be a bedroom eyes in a crowded room/ 'nobody knows we've been fucking this entire time tehe 👀'/ formal dress moment™ at Some point! they had to have a public 'reunion' late in the fic bc i didn't want other characters to start to get suspicious yet. originally this was supposed to be her birthday party but i already said why that wouldn't work. and as an echo of the previous section, dmitry would of course get a little too in his head about the whole thing and go scowl in a corner somewhere, unaware anya is ready to have him all to herself rn alhsjdkf. he's obviously jealous, but not in a possessive way, he's just discontent with the arrangement. they both are. and i needed them to dance for... reasons <33

idk about y'all, but i can never get enough of anya arguing about semantics (the bit where dmitry is like 'put me on the list') and dmitry finding it irritating and adorable at the same time <3

section seven:

originally anya's maid was supposed to be the one who catches them, she was gonna have a whole arc where she parallels the working class girl anya used to be and anya was gonna confide in her/ found her to be better company than the aristocrats she hangs out with, but i didn't feel like writing all that lhasdkf. and it makes more sense to use a character we already have than to come up with a whole new rando. and lily would be able to figure it out, too, since her love affair with vlad was meant to foil dimya.

section eight:

this fight was so hard to write 💀 i didn't want to over explain, but the whole reason why it escalated to a fight was really complicated; like yeah obviously they love each other and definitely want a future together, they just weren't on the same page as to what that would look like and they needed to hash it out. they certainly know how to make each other mad 💀

section nine:

i really wanted to write dimya in this dramatic jane austen period romance™ longing for one another in a parlor over tea™ needing to break apart when someone else enters the room™ situation... so that's the real reason why they had to fight asklhjdf so we could get them to do This and Feel Big Feelings across a room 😌 and in this fic the moment with anya and the dowager before the finale didn't happen yet, so it's happening here. 'dmitry refused the reward?' is now 'dmitry is coming to tea??' and i really love it when the dowager and dmitry get to interact in any fic. it's like candy to me. so deliciously tense and awkward. i also think their sense of humor is very Situational and Strange, especially in the eyes of a proper lady like marie, so having them commit to a bit as long as they can in front of someone else is funny to me lol. and i feel like while some nasty things were said in their fight, they reconcile pretty quickly bc they just want to figure it out and that's what matters <3 the musical has a lot to say about female agency, so i wanted to echo that theme here too.

section ten:

obligatory post-elopement epilogue <3 i cut this down a lot, mostly bc a lot of it was redundant and not really going anywhere productive and somewhat bc this document, combined with the fic before, was reaching 30k and i was ready for it to be over lol. but yeah. anya gave the grand duchess lifestyle a good try, but i think this was the best compromise for her. and now that they're married anya gets to call dmitry 'grand duke' which is a personal favorite of mine that hardly ever gets used alhskjdf. and i really liked the bit where she's like lets go! and he's like rome isn't going anywhere 😪 and she's like but our train will if u don't hurry up 😤 🙈

#asks #Anonymous #my writing #dimya #fanfiction #idk what else there is to say so i'm posting this #in the future if u want more of these u gotta ask for a specific fic 🙈#i love talking about my work ashjldkf but i won't do it unprompted lol

6 notes · View notes