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thefallenbibliophilequote · 3 years

Text

Bad Blood

Loki x Reader

1989, chapter 8

"She made friends and enemies"

Summary: It's hard to find the one, but even if you do find him it's always going to be a daily struggle to make it work. Can you even make it work after he broke your heart? The answer to that is complicated, but it all started when you found each other again in the stark Tower- and that's where our story begins.

Word count: 4,601

Warnings: language, sexism if you squint, angst, torture(Bucky style with needles and blood and knives etc), and a little fluff- not in that order.

A/N: I'm sure you guys will hate me after this. Sorry in advance? I'm saying this again- remember the timeline from the last chapter and this one...

A/N 2: thank you for @peterbenjiparker for helping me outline this chapter! And thanks to @chrissquares for the dividers! And of course to @nacho-bucky for reading this over!

No one is allowed to repost my writing or steal or copy my work! Reblog on tumblr is fine.

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The pain in your head almost pulled you under and out of consciousness with the way your body felt heavy and all the- were they hands? That seemed to touch you. You shivered when you felt a spark of electricity travel through your body and your eyes shot open.

There was a blinding light directly from above you and both of your sides but after a couple of moments you managed to see through that. You saw the agents, the building, the chair you were seated in with equipment you did not know but you did not want to find out what they do. When they noticed you were awake, two men walked to you.

Mike was standing on the side, grinning, while the doctor from the warehouse seemed to look you over.

"And she is awake." His voice wasn't charming anymore, now it just sent red alarms in your brain. "She looks so cute asleep."

In a glare you looked at him and he fell to his knees in the agony that overtook him, his eyes were hazy and you wanted to make sure it hurt.

"Put her under!" the doctor yelled and a searing electrical pain ran through your body and instead of his yelling in the room, it was now filled with yours. You didn't hear anything anymore and then all you knew was black. Your body jolted in its place despite the restraints before it went limp.

"When are you guys going to solve the problem?" Doctor Zazu laughed at the remark.

"What problem?"

"Her powers, they are intense and harmful! When she wakes up again, this will keep happening!" the doctor looked at the young agent who was struggling to get up and shook his head, he was still young.

"That's not the problem- that is the solution!"

"How the hell is that a solution? We can't use her until we make her under our control." Mike looked over at you. "Besides, it took years to make the Soldat."

"We are making advances on detecting her powers, and with the new technology and knowledge that we have now, we will be able to overpower her. I doubt she will make such a fight, especially with what you've told me."

"She was quite fun, certainly worth working there for as much as I did."

"I'm glad you enjoyed her, now it's my turn to toy with that brain of hers." He stood at the railing and watched as agents prepared the room that will soon be yours, and the staff that stood proudly just outside of it.

•

Three months ago in Asgard…

"This is such a blessed day to unite the lovely couple!" Lady Iyllir's mother raised her glass during breakfast. It'd been mere hours since Loki knocked on her door and here he was sitting at the long table with his father and Iyllir with her family.

Glasses clunk against each other but they only made Loki wince when he came back to the reality of the situation.

"Indeed it is, I am glad we will be uniting the families soon enough," his father then looked at him. "And I am happy it worked out as it should've."

Loki couldn't speak against Odin. Your voice was haunting him and you were right- he could get away from this if he wanted to, but he can't. He needed this too much even if he didn't want it.

"We are so excited! Right, Loki?" the girl looked at him with bright eyes her ginger hair was just as bright. He nodded and spread a smile.

"Of course, my dear, I look forward to it." She gave him her hand and he was a proper prince after all, so he raised her hand to his lips and gave her knuckles a gentle kiss.

"When shall we do the wedding?" Iyllir's parents talked to Odin more than Loki and the girl who sat behind him.

"We could have it soon, I'm sure we are just as eager to have this wedding just as the two lovers are to getting married." The father talked to Odin.

"Actually, father-" Iyllir quipped up and he felt her hand tighten around his. "I thought we could have it a couple of months from now, the flowers will be the brightest then."

"Dear, don't be silly the flowers are still pretty now." Her mother shook her head at her.

Before she could go further, Loki spoke instead of the girl.

"Shouldn't the bride decide how her own wedding will be designed?" the mother in front of him smiled nervously.

"Of course, Prince Loki, you are right."

With this the conversation went into planning the wedding which left Loki only half listening.

"I want it to be golden, we can even have our clothes be of such too!" he heard her before zoning out of the conversation. Breakfast ended soon after, with a promise from Odin to send maidens that'll be at the Lady's disposal for any wedding idea she wants.

Loki was walking beside her in silence as he escorted her to her chambers.

"What made you change your mind?"

"Pardon me?"

"You didn't want me or this wedding before, so what changed your mind?" he was at a loss of words, not knowing how to answer that- he couldn't bring you up, but Iyllir was indeed clever so she must know already.

"I came to a few realizations lately, but I assure you that I want this marriage." She nodded to him with a smile and he decided to sway the conversation away from you, the redhead beat him to it.

"Thank you for standing up for me earlier." She took his hand in hers as they neared her room.

"Of course, I understand parents can be tough." She let out a huff at that. "I admire that you spoke up."

"My parents sure can be hard to deal with. They like to decide everything for me but one good thing they did was lead me to you." She giggled up at him and he couldn't help but think that she deserved someone who will actually love her, and he hoped for both of their sake that he will learn to do that with time, and time can heal almost everything right?

"Yes, now I will let you go rest."

"I hope I'll see you later."

•

The sting of the needle only grew when you resisted it, your body was shaking still trying to relax from the shock you were put through yet again.

Your eyes were hazy but you were more stubborn than to submit to pain.

"They will come for me, you know." You heard your own voice stumble out the words.

"You think the Avengers will come save you?" Doctor Zazu chuckled and your vision came back to reality. "How long will it take them though? By the time they manage to find you, you will have already become my new soldier."

You focused your stare at him, but before you could do anything he pushed a button that sent searing pain into your mind.

"Blue." You heard him say and it wasn't hard for you to guess what he meant.

•

"Tony, have you seen Y/N?" Tony raised his mask and looked over at Steve.

"I haven't seen her in a few days but it's alright we don't have missions now." He was about to return to fixing his suit. "Plus, she is probably shaking up with that new boyfriend of hers."

"Tony…" Steve groaned at it.

"She's an adult Steve, get used to it. She can fondue whoever she likes." He snickered at the supersoldier who only looked at him in a not amused look.

"It's been a couple of days Tony, I'm getting worried. She would tell me if she was going away- she never went away like this before."

Tony sighed at Steve's stressed face.

"Hey F.R.I.D.A.Y, do you know where Y/N is?" he called to the AI.

"I'm afraid I don't know, the last she has been in the building was a few days ago, she was in the garage and she took one of your cars alongside some of your wine bottles, sir."

"She did what now? I told her several times to not touch my cars." Tony got up from where he was sitting. "Okay, can you call her?"

A moment has passed before they got a reply.

"She is not answering, and it seems like she took out the tracker from her phone since I can't track her."

"You see Tony I have every reason to be worried!" Steve grew angry at the new information, he paced the lab. "F.R.I.D.A.Y where is Mike? The guy that Y/N was with"

"He has not showed up to work in a few days, on the same day Y/N drove away."

Silence took over the room. Tony looked at his friend's crestfallen face.

"I might know where she went to."

"What, where?"

"She has an apartment up in Brooklyn, I saved it for her."

"Why didn't I know about it?" Steve walked up to the billionaire who held his hands up in defense.

"She didn't want to tell anyone, she wanted it to be only hers. I only know it because she needed to buy it, so I bought the entire building."

"We are going now. Get Nat in one of your cars and I will go on my motorcycle." It was a command more than a request.

It didn't take them long to get to the building, Steve did not care about any traffic lights and Tony couldn't blame him. Natasha insisted that she drives faster than Tony and to her credit they arrived at the place at the same time Steve did.

It was eerily quiet and Tony used the scan on the door to open it. They reached inside and Natasha already had the clutch of her gun open,

"Y/N!" Cap called at the small apartment but no answer came. Tony spotted the two glasses in the living room, one full on the table and the other half empty on the floor next to the big red stain it left on the carpet.

"Cap," Tony put his hand on his shoulder and Steve turned and saw Natasha raising the fallen glass to her face and smelling the content of it.

"This is not good, boys."

•

"Blue." The words were distant.

"Five." You were fighting to stay awake.

"Airplane." No. You screamed, trying to get out of your head.

"No, I will not turn into one of your soldiers! I won't!" your eyes flashed to a group of guards and with your anger it took no time for them to fall screaming on the ground, they could barely move when you felt the pain in your head again and you were shot back inside your mind.

"Blue."

You didn't know how much time you've been in this chair, reality and fiction blurred as you eased in and out of your mind.

"I won't turn into your soldier." You repeated again and again every time the doctor played with you and let you be awake. You knew at this point it'll take a lot from you to use your abilities.

"Even if your little Avenger friends get here, you won't be theirs either."

"What?" you hated showing weakness but your inhibitions were low.

"Either you will become my soldier, or you won't be here at all." He laughed right at you and then looked at the scientists beside you. "Put her under again, restart her."

"No, please no." They pushed you back against the chair; put the mouth guard between your teeth, and you felt yourself sink into the numbness of the pain.

You were shivering next time you woke up, you still heard those familiar words.

The machine they put you in was now rusted, at the moment you had clear mind you picked up the discarded needle on the side of where you lay. You were weak but you won't go down without a fight.

You lay there silently until the next agent came next you. Attacking them, you took the needle and stabbed them right in the throat, red blood started pouring but before you could pull out the agent's gun another agent came and their knife made a really deep cut. You looked up at chocolate brown eyes that now only held darkness when you fell to the floor and other agents lifted you up and restrained you.

"Look what you've done! What happened baby? You never put up such a fight from what I remember." Mike mocked you, you really thought he could be trusted. You were certainly wrong when he pressed on your fresh bloody wound. "At least, not in bed."

"Don't worry, she can fight all she wants, the wounds that we will leave on her pretty little brain will last and they'll last no matter what you'll try to do." You recognized the voice of their commander.

"So, did your parents name you after the parrot from Aladdin or the traitor from Othello?" you snickered at him "Then again I don't think you're smart enough to read such a high level literature, all due respect Commander Iago. And don't even get me started on the good doctor over there."

"Oh don't think you have the upper hand here, see we know something you don't. Did you ever bother checking where your powers came from? I'm sure the great Tony Stark tried, but while he failed we didn't. So we are already smarter than your avenger friends!"

You were taken aback by that, whatever created those powers within you always remained as a mystery in your head. But if they knew that, then they know a way inside of your brain and powers that you don't want to imagine.

"Well then, if you are so sure that I will never get out of here- why not share the knowledge with me?"

"We never said that you'll never get out of here, trust me," he stroked your jaw and his hand went down to your throat. Disgust blossomed in your stomach. "We have quite a plan for you if you'll get rescued, I'm sure your friends will appreciate the surprise."

Your heart hammered in your chest, mind racing with possibilities.

"Give her a dose then send her to her new special room." He stepped away and then a needle was inserted in you again, pumping blue strange liquid into you, your mind was hazy with its heaviness, and you barely remembered being put inside a sealed room. You saw a blue glow from outside of the transparent room, barely seeing the long stick and cords that ran from it. Then a blinding light flashed in the room and you felt yourself sinking, sinking inside your own mind.

The light was bright as it shone from your window. Curiousity got the better of you and you almost got blinded by the light outside until it stopped and you could see clearly again. There in through the light Loki stood in some quiet unusual clothing but that all changed with a glowing green glimmer of light and he was in regular clothes looking like the Loki you knew.

You stood there by the window with wide eyes but you couldn't seem to move as you were frozen in place trying to understand the lucid dream that occurred right before your eyes in your empty street.

A knock on the door caused you to shriek and you stumbled down to the ground, looking at the door.

"Y/N dear, are you okay? I can hear you inside." Loki's voice called out to you when you have yet to open the door.

Gathering up the courage you walked to the door and slowly opened it, willing yourself to look normal.

"Hello Loki, hello." You mentally cringed at your awkwardness.

"Are you okay? I heard something falling." He walked into your apartment casually while you were trying to gather up your thoughts.

"Yes, I'm- I'm okay. How are you?" you closed the door and locked it, facing away from him.

"I'm alright, thank you for asking." Loki looked at your form still standing by the door. "Why are you acting strange?"

"I am always strange, you should know that," you turned to him and briefly met his eyes before you made a move to go to the kitchen. "Do you want water? I'll bring us some water."

Loki caught your wrist and turned you to him.

"Are you mad at me for something? Come on, out with it. You know I always find out what you're hiding." He laughed that beautiful laugh of his and looked at you again when you were quiet. "Come on, you can tell me anything, you know that."

He let go of your hand when you still didn't answer and looked at the ground. Deciding to let it go he walked towards your kitchen.

"I'll get you a cup of water then-"

"Why are you glowing?" you winced when your voice was too loud for your liking.

"What?" you turned to him.

"You can glow, like a lamp or something. You glow-" you didn't know how to explain what you saw. "I saw you glow outside!"

"Oh." You almost felt bad at your accusation when you saw his face fall. "Well I guess there's no point in hiding it anymore- I am not who or what you think I am. I'm sorry I lied to you, do you want me to leave?"

"No! I don't want you to leave Loki, of course I don't want you to leave." He looked at you strangely and you looked at him back, a silent chuckle leaving your lips at his absurd question. "No don't leave, can you just tell me what's going on? Please."

Loki studied you then as he saw all the nerves leave you, or at the very least the fear that he dreaded seeing in your eyes.

"Very well," you've never seen Loki this nervous before. "You might want to sit down for this."

You sat down on one side on the couch and pouted when Loki chose to sit on the far side of the couch, away from you.

The talk was long to say the least, and you couldn't tell who it was harder to.

"I can make you forget all about this if that'll make it easier for you." Loki told you after you took in the information he gave you. A god was sitting on your couch. Your best friend was a god. But he was still your best friend.

"No! I don't want that!" You shook your head at him. "Can you maybe show me?"

"Show you what?"

"Your magic, I want to see it."

"You want to see my magic?" Loki was taking aback by the request, he expected for you to be scared of him or hate him. He knew you were special to him, but he didn't think you will find interest in his magic over everything else.

"Yes!" The smile on his face sent shivers down your spine, you recognized that smile.

The next second Loki disappeared from his place on the couch and you stared at the place in shock. Cautiously you scooched forward until you were sitting right next to his former place on the sofa. You reached a hand forward, searching for him in the air but when your hand went through nothing you looked at it and tilted your head.

That's when you felt the breath in your ear. "I'm not there, love." His voice was right beside you and you turned too fast and fell off of the couch.

You saw Loki there sitting right behind where you were a second ago. Gaping at him, you huffed when he laughed at you.

"You can't just scare me like that!"

"You wanted to see my magic and I showed it to you. It's your fault that you couldn't handle it well." Getting up you took a pillow in your hand. "I am the god of mischief as I just told you. So come on what did you expect?"

"I don't care if you're the god of my ass, you are a little shit." You hit him with the pillow over and over again. "Don't you ever scare me like that again!"

"Okay okay I yield!" his laughter calmed down as yours started and he knew he was done for. Out of all of the scenarios he played in his head about this moment, he never would have expected this. "What are you laughing at?"

"I just punched a god with a pillow."

•

"Why haven't you killed her yet?"

"Well, it takes time to extract what we want from her. Don't you want to see her before it?" the commander stuttered a bit when he saw who stood in front of him, coming unannounced. The moment they heard the loud familiar noise from outside, they started to hide everything they were working on so that they won't be interrupted and killed.

The two of them walked towards where you still lay in the almost empty room. At the commander's order you were taken out of it and strapped to the chair again.

You slowly opened your eyes a small gasp leaving your throat at the cold shivers that you felt as you got back into reality. You couldn't tell how long it was.

You felt yourself being watched, warning alarms ran through your head and suddenly the shivers weren't from the cold. You forced your eyes to focus back and when you did you finally saw them clearly.

"So there she is, finally with us sweetheart?" Commander Iago's voice ringed in your ears.

"Is this the little girl that is causing so much trouble? She looks so delicate, so breakable."

The second was a voice you did not recognize, it was almost melodic.

"I'm afraid her powers are the danger here, nothing more. We are taking the powers away from her like we agreed."

The new information registered in your brain, you didn't call him out on his lie- not yet at least, not when you actually have an advantage.

"You told me," you could see his eyes widen. "That you know about my powers, so at least be decent and tell me about them before you drain them out of me."

"Go ahead, tell her." The Hydra commander swallowed loudly before he let out a laugh.

"Well, did it ever occur to you that maybe your encounter with a deity left some marks on you?"

"What are you saying?"

"Dear Loki must have put some ancient spell on you not knowing it would cause what it did."

Oh. Then you cast your eyes down and let it register in your brain. All the incidents, the weapons…

"And how would you know about Loki? Who are you?" you looked into those dark grey eyes.

"I guess you're not used to this kind of grace to recognize royalty. I'm Princess Iyllir, wife of your dear little Loki."

"Oh you're no princess." You won't let her see what you were feeling, the effects of her words.

"I will be soon, he was so eager to marry me. I must say I understand why you liked him," she leaned down to you a bit. "He certainly comes with perks with that silver tongue of his."

You knew he was never yours, but hearing her say that only put salt on your open wound.

"He is probably waiting in bed for me, so I should go. But I hope you'll have fun here, it's not like you will be staying with us for long." She then looked back at the agent. "Good job with her, I want you to finish this as soon as possible.

"Yes of course." You saw him pull the remote in his hand and your heart started to race when they put a mouth guard, tears gathered in your eyes as he pressed it and the pain began again.

•

"How did you not know that Mike is Hydra?" Steve yelled at Tony.

"We must have missed him somehow but we don't have time to blame me for that! The question we need to ask is how do we not know of other Hydra bases?" Bruce took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes.

"Wasn't he working in analysis?"

"F.R.I.D.A.Y, scan everything Mike worked on ever since he and Y/N got together."

"It's his fault."

"Yeah we know- he kidnapped her."

"It's Loki's fault. Everything went wrong after he got here." Steve kicked over a chair and paced the room.

"Steve let's not focus on the blame right now, we need to focus on finding Y/N." Bucky put a hand on his friend's shoulder until he looked up at him and he shot him a reassuring smile. "We all care about her, it's not just you."

"I know Buck, sorry."

"Why would Hydra target her?" Natasha thought out loud.

"It must connect to everything that is going on with their Asgardian technology." Clint sat down next to Tony.

"What about the Asgardian things they stole?" Thor walked into the room and everyone stared at him.

•

One month ago in Asgard…

"The view from here is beautiful, isn't it?" Grey eyes looked up at him. Iyllir and Loki sat on a bench in the balcony of his room, the skies were clear and the sun shone bright.

He spent the day with the girl. They read books together and she was good conversation, he knew that.

"It is." He looked over all that was below them, the gardens and workers and surrounding all of that were the palace walls.

"It's been lovely spending more time with you, I'm sure the wedding will go splendidly!" she gushed to him and sat ever so closer to him. "It's so soon too."

It really was soon, Loki knew that. You were still there though, all around in his mind. In a crowd he sometimes thinks he sees your face, but he didn't.

He knew he was just chasing shadows, trying to keep himself away from Iyllir but it was of no use, the wedding is soon and he needs to forget about you. He looked over to her.

"I look forward to our new start together." She smiled back at him.

He tried to think clearly, he had to get over you somehow.

The girl in front of him was as beautiful as any Asgardian princess would be- from her soft eyes to her plump lips, and to the rest of her figure. She was smart and perfectly polite like any lady should be.

In the last four months he got to know her better, he couldn't deny her kindness and if only he could forget you he knows he might be satisfied with her.

He had to forget you.

He gently grabbed her chin, moving it slightly upwards to him. He had been dragging this for months, denying it all but the wedding is already planned and he wanted this, he couldn't live in the shadows anymore.

Loki saw the look of surprise on the redhead's face but it soon turned lustful when she leaned up as he leaned down to her. He captured her lips in his and gave it his all; there was no turning back now. She tasted sweet; he brought her even closer to him, deepening the kiss, starting to feel her lust take over him as well.

•

Tags: @ayybtch @buckys-other-punk @chaoticpete @madcrazy50 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @the-departed-potato @rogerrhqpsody @onceupona-happilyeverafter-love @percabethismyotp14

#my writing #bad blood #loki x reader #loki odinson x reader #loki #loki series #loki odinson #loki laufeyson #angst #loki imagine #loki fanfiction #1989 #1989 taylor's version #loki angst #loki layfeyson x reader #taylor swift

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dcbutinamrev · 3 years

Note

BESTIE I DON'T EVEN HAVE A PROMPT JUST

HAMDRE!

PLEEEEEEASE?

KJSAKEJWWAKJEWKJE *screams* YES-

Sorry this is so late bestie, it took me all day to write this cause tumblr keeps distracting me-

But anyways-

But have some Hamdre for your soul.

(Some of the lines are from D&I when Hamilton met Andre-

(This is a long one- )

~~~

Lieutenant Colonel Alexander Hamilton sighs to himself as he sits at the long, rectangular table in the parlor, reading a letter from Laurens--no doubt upset again about Hamilton betraying him because of his marriage. Hamilton shakes his head, a slight scowl to his face as he grips the letter tighter, his leg bouncing up and down anxiously underneath the table, desperately wanting it to knock against a particular person's. He rests his chin in his palm, his fingers tapping against his freckled cheek. In his peripheral, he sees the aides eye him worriedly. They have been doing so since Laurens left for the South, but no one ever bothered to ask. But Hamilton knows his quietness and always forlorn expression, hurts his dear friend Richard Kidder Meade more than the Marquis.

"Oh, Jack..." Hamilton sighs, slamming the letter down flat, face down onto the table. He groans frustratingly, running his hands through his russet curls that are constantly always being out of place, as though every second of the day were he had just woken up. "Why can't you understand...? I love you both, you and her...why...why can't you see this...? I would never betray you...I would never lie to you--unlike you...The reason I...I didn't tell you of my Betsey sooner was because...because I didn't know how...Just like you feared of loosing me when you debated on telling me about your wife you left in England...along with..." Hamilton scoffs out a laugh. "God, a daughter..." He swallows the lump down his throat, blinking his eyes fast as he tries to control his breathing. "I...I was afraid to loose you too..." Another pause. He swallows again, licking his chapped lips, chapped and dry from the lack of kisses from Laurens. His hands shake. "But...I...I guess...I already have..."

Silence fills the room. Hamilton shivers involuntarily, shaking his head as he sits back from the table, running a hand through his dark red hair again before letting it slide down his face exhaustedly, letting his skin drag along with it.

"Do you always talk to yourself?" says a very fine familiar French accented voice Hamilton knows all too well.

He feels his burdens and worries lifted from his chest almost in an instant, his eyes slowly cracking open and he sniffs, rubbing the edge of his watery indigo eyes--the very same deep violet eyes Laurens had always find entrancing--with the heel of his palm before sniffling.

Hamilton scoffs out a laugh and shrugs as the Marquis pulls out a chair from the table and sits himself down beside Hamilton. He tilts his head to one shoulder, furrowing his brows.

"Are you alright, mon ami?" Lafayette asks, breaking the silence.

Hamilton sighs heavily through his nose, staring down at Laurens's elegant, beautiful handwriting. He swallows again and presses his lips together.

"I just..." Hamilton shakes his head. "I just...I'm terrified, Marquis..."

Lafayette presses his lips together tightly, keeping his expression calm and collected. Instinctively, he rests his hand upon Hamilton's slightly smaller one, squeezing it comfortingly. Hamilton tips his head up and smiles gently.

"I know," Lafayette tries.

Hamilton knows Lafayette is just trying to offer him some comfort, but Hamilton couldn't help but snap, "You don't know..."

Lafayette sighs. "Alexandre...Laurens is my friend as well. I care for for him as much as you. But--"

Hamilton yanks his hand away, clutching it towards his chest and letting out a shaky breath, glancing away from the Marquis. "You don't...You don't know..."

A pause.

"Have you heard anything on what the General has said on the condition for Major Andre?" Hamilton suddenly says, his voice tight as he turns back towards the Marquis over his shoulder.

Lafayette presses his lips together again and respectfully takes his hand back, resting it in his lap. He ducks his chin a little towards his chest. "He requests to see one of the General's staff." A pause. Hamilton raises an eyebrow, expecting for more. "He requested you specifically."

Hamilton eyes Lafayette for a moment before nodding once, standing up from his chair and pushing it in. He folds the letter into neat squares before tucking it into his waistcoat pocket. He begins to turn about, but Lafayette catches Hamilton's wrist, flashing him a pleading yet concerned look.

"Alex," he whispers.

Hamilton stares at him before yanking his wrist free and marching out the parlor, swinging the door shut and letting it slam shut behind him.

Hamilton stands in front of the closed door, his jaw clenched as he closes his eyes. He breathes in deeply, holding his breath for a few seconds before reopening his eyes and letting out a shaky breath.

"Oh, my Jack," is all he says, his voice cracking, before clearing his throat and marching towards Andre.

***

"Major Andre?" Hamilton says as the guard closes the door behind him. Hamilton scans the room, searching for a familiar coat of red, a mysterious braid, dark brown eyes--the color of coffee--searching for skin, pale as a peach.

"Colonel Hamilton." Andre stands from his seat at a circular table in the far back of the room, inclining his head respectfully towards Hamilton.

Hamilton stands a few feet away from Andre, his breath hitched in his throat and his deep blue eyes--almost indigo--widen slightly at the sight of the doomed Major in front of him.

He is quite handsome, Hamilton thinks, quirking an eyebrow. Up so close, at least.

Andre tilts his head slightly to one shoulder, his brows furrowing together as he smiles slightly down at Hamilton, whose freckled cheeks suddenly turn a deep shade of red--almost red as his coat. Andre raises an eyebrow as Hamilton dips his head slightly, pressing his lips together tightly. Hamilton meets Andre's eyes and he swallows, his head still dipped low.

He is...beautiful, Andre thinks, curling his fingers to resist the urge to tuck back a loose strand of dark red hair out of his half-opened eye. Extraordinarily...breathtaking...with eyes like his...violet...

Brown...Hamilton thinks as his eyes up towards Andre once more. They're brown...and that braid...his accent...

The two stare at each other for rather a very unusually long time, perhaps roughly around fifteen minutes or so, the room filled with nothing but silence and their own breathing.

Andre clears his throat, blinking out of his daze. He bends, bowing respectfully which catches Hamilton way off guard. He watches Andre with wide eyes and flushed cheeks as he brings his smaller hand up towards his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to Hamilton's knuckles as if he were greeting a woman.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Major," Hamilton says politely as Andre guides Hamilton towards the small table.

Andre nods, a warm smile to his lips. "You as well, Colonel Hamilton."

"Alexander!" Hamilton bursts out instantly. Andre raises an eyebrow. Hamilton clears his throat. "Please...Call me Alexander, Major."

"Then you may call me John," Andre says.

Hamilton straights himself up taller in his seat, trying to keep himself calm at the name John.

"I was told you wished to speak to someone from the General's staff," Hamilton says. "I am here."

"Thank you," Andre says quietly as he shifts some papers around smoothly, graceful--almost like a dancer--before handing Hamilton a sealed letter. "I have a letter for His Excellency."

Hamilton takes the letter, eyeing it suspiciously as he chews on the inside of his cheek. "Might I ask to its contents?"

Andre smiles grimly. "It regards my execution."

Hamilton stills, his shoulders tensing as he stares at the General's full title, swallowing hard. His fingers shake. "I shall deliver the letter directly into his hands..."

Andre nods curtly. "Thank you."

Hamilton shifts in the chair but he does not stand. It appears Andre has nothing more to say, nor anymore specific reason for calling him. Yet Hamilton would rather not remove himself just yet. He finds the mysterious man quite...fascinating. Charming, polite, handsome...accomplished, from what the rumors have said. Hamilton wonders what they could talk about if Andre were allowed more time?

Andre must have been reading Hamilton's mind because he says, "You have such singular eyes, Lieutenant Colonel..." This catches Hamilton's attention as he tips his head back up from the letter. Andre grins, tilting his head to one shoulder as he furrows his brows. "They are such a startling blue...almost...violet...I would imagine they could make for an impressive portrait..."

Hamilton purses his lips together in an effort to control the smile which threatens his face. He clears his throat.

"You are...kind to say so..." A pause. Hamilton glances back up and his eyes catch a rough outline of a woman's hair, wavy and curly at the same time, sees the rough lines marking her thin shoulder, the fluff of her dress. He smiles slightly as he turns to Andre, his eyebrows high with curiosity. "Are you an artist yourself?"

Andre whips his head suddenly to Hamilton, blinking out of his daze. Hamilton leans forward slightly, his hands clutching onto the letter underneath the table. He raises an eyebrow curiously.

Andre smiles thinly. He nods. "Though I may confess...I have not painted in some years." He turns to Hamilton. "I blame your Revolution for that."

Hamilton sighs rather dramatically. "A loss indeed."

"A man need not only be a soldier."

Hamilton chuckles, a faint sound causing the corners of Andre's lips to quirk up slightly. Hamilton's eyes travel to the portrait of the strange yet beautiful woman before him on the paper. He frowns instantly, remembering the way Laurens would always sneak in a drawing or two whenever Hamilton isn't looking, remembers how delicate the lines were when he shaped out his hands and eyes and the curled strokes to indicate his curled hair, the dots on his cheeks to indicate his freckles.

"Are you well, sir?" Andre says, breaking the silence in the room.

Hamilton blinks out of his daze and tips his head back up to Andre's. Hamilton clears his throat, shifting around in his seat.

"Um...yes...my apologies...it's just..." He lets out a shaky breath, seeing Laurens in his head, running through the field to dodge cannon fire and bullets, slicing his sword against a Redcoat's chest, a Redcoat jabbing his sword directly--

Hamilton shakes his head, forcing a tight smile onto his face.

"It's just...he...my friend...he's currently in the South...but your style reminds me very much of his." A pause. "He is an artist too, you know."

Andre smiles politely, resting his hand on top of Hamilton's for comfort most likely. Hamilton stares at Andre's slightly larger one, his strong fingers curled around between his index finger and thumb.

"I think I would have liked to meet your friend," Andre says.

Hamilton nods in agreement. Andre furrows his brows, realizing Hamilton looks rather distant.

"You are scared?" Andre admits for him. Hamilton turns to him sharply. "For your friend?"

He swallows. "Yes..." He turns back to their hands on top of each other. "He was... he is...known to be...quite reckless. He would often come back injured after a battle. He was shot in the shoulder three times once, if I recall." Hamilton sighs heavily. "Sometimes I wonder if he only lives to frighten me. If so..." he scoffs. "He's doing a damn good job of it."

Andre couldn't help but chuckle a little. He glances up at Hamilton, who smiles softly. He clears his throat.

"What is his name?" Andre wonders. "Your friend?"

Hamilton sighs once more. "Laurens...John Laurens..."

Andre nods. "Of course." A pause. "But have faith and hope, Colonel Hamilton, that your friend will return to you alive and well and unharmed. He's a right thing, you know? For himself, for his country, for you."

"Why are you telling me this, Major Andre?" Hamilton asks.

"I'm telling you the truth," Andre says, lifting Hamilton's chin up to meet his eyes.

Hamilton's heart skips a beat and he breathes in sharply through his nose. He can see Andre's jaw clenched and lips pressed tight, clearly fighting off temptation for something. But his eyes shine with a look Hamilton knows well enough.

"Hamilton...Alexander...I know I only have known for the briefest moment...but I must confess, you are truly indeed beautiful. I have never seen someone with such exquisit eyes as yours, a shade of auburn as your hair--" Andre grins when he sees Hamilton's freckled cheeks flush with color. He continues. "--But...since it maybe my last day here..." He clears his throat. "I'd very much like to kiss you..."

Hamilton's eyes fly wide.

"If you'll allow me, of course."

Hamilton swallows and without thinking he nods shakily. "Better make it quick, Major."

Andre smiles wide, leaning down to press his lips against Hamilton's, gripping Hamilton's elbow tightly. Hamilton grunts with some surprise as both of his hands fly up to cup both of Andre's jaw. Hamilton squeezes his eyes as Andre's lips presses harder against his, groaning occasionally, shifting himself closer so his chest is flushed against Hamilton's. Hamilton argues back, fighting for dominance but he knows Andre will win at this game.

After a few minutes, Hamilton pulls back slowly, a lopsided grin on his face. Andre huffs as he tries to catch his breath, pressing his forehead against Hamilton's.

"Thank you," Andre whispers.

Hamilton nods, his eyes closed. "Of course, Andre."

Andre pulls back and stands, squaring his shoulder. He grabs hold of his braid in his left hand and with his right, uses it to grasp hold a small pocket knife and slices a small piece of his braid off with a grunt.

Hamilton stares wide eyed as Andre places it gently in his palm. Andre nods.

"Keep it," he says. "For I'll have no means for it."

Hamilton never lets it go.

***

The following day becomes Major John Andre's execution, the sky a dark gray, clouds rolling in followed by a soft warm breeze, the leaves shifting from the dark evergreen color to more oranges and browns.

Hamilton stands among between General Washington and the Marquis among the crowd surrounding a tree. Hamilton closes his eyes softly, breathing in a couple of times, before slowly reopening them. Just as he does so, Major Andre's carriage arrives. Hamilton swallows the lump down his throat when he sees Major Tallmadge hop out first, swinging the door open and roughly pulling out a well, formal dressed British officer: red coat smoothed and ironed, almost looking new, dark brown hair pulled back into a ponytail, the Major's typical mysterious braid shorter than before.

Hamilton breathes in again, clutching onto the braid beneath the cloak he wears to keep himself warm.

He sees Tallmadge guide Andre up to the wagon, flipping his coat around as he shifts to the opposite side. He pulls out a white handkerchief and hands it to him. Andre snatches it from Tallmadge's hands, his eyes scanning the crowd until they land on Hamilton's.

Andre smiles softly yet reassuringly when he sees the Colonel's eyes beginning to water.

"Will be but a momentary pang," he whispers into the chilled air to both himself and Hamilton.

Hamilton seemed to have heard for he nods his response.

Andre breathes in shakily, staring up at the sky for a moment before wrapping the white handkerchief around his eyes.

"If you wish to speak, now will be the time," Tallmadge says.

Andre breathes in, keeping his fixed on Hamilton's.

"Bare me witness...that I may bare my fate like a brave man."

Hamilton whimpers, flinches when he hears a shuddering snap, almost like a branch snapping against a person's knee. Hamilton whips his head over his shoulder, feeling a few drops of tears roll down his cheek. He clutches onto the braid in his palm as he feels the Marquis wrap his arm around him comfortingly, shushing him.

Hamilton's chest aches and squeezes. He stands among the crowd, letting the sight before him sink in.

He wishes Laurens were beside him so he may grip his hand tight.

And never let go.

#AAAAAAAAHHHH #IT'S FINALLY FINISHED #I HAVE BEEN WORKING ON THIS ALL FRICKIN DAY #HOPE YOU LOVE IT BESTIE!#asks #ask liz #skye!#ficlet #hamdre #alexander hamilton #john andre #I am so exhausted-#oh my god-#the longest fic (time wise) i have ever written-#whew im tired #thank god it's finally finished-

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reidetic · 3 years

Text

The Pantheon: The War or The World? - A.H

A/N: This is the second installment in ‘The Pantheon’ series. You can find the first, Golden, here. Big shout out to @zhuzhubii for their dialogue help and @ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff and a discord friend (who’s tumblr I cannot tag fsm) for beta-ing both stages of this fic. This about to get real dark, y’all. Heed the content warnings.

CW/TW: Murder, violence, general angst, did you hear me about murder?

Couple: None, gen fic.

Category: Angst

Word Count: 1.8k

War. Violence. Anger, malevolence, fury. Aaron was familiar enough with them all. Over a decade in the Behavioral Analysis Unit and he had seen nothing but the wrath of mankind, spilled over from held tongues. Everything stems from fear and terror, and he would go to the grave swearing he fathered the abstract. He felt he left destruction behind him in a wake of combat, and failed to keep his fists from their fury.

He hadn’t held his rage against Foyet, and it terrified him to no end that he held no regrets about it. If you spend your waking hours chasing the entities of psychopathy, do you not worry that one stumble will place you among the pack? Will the darkness that now inhabits him be his fall from grace? What would he teach his son about the world if he collapsed beneath it?

He’d be lying to himself if he said the pressure only began after she left. Aaron knew a lot of things when he was young, but the lesson he never quite learned was how to slow down, and life stepped in quickly enough. Her name on his lips burned like fire for months after, only ever calling her Mom to Jack, never once braving the knowledge that the only woman he had given a piece of himself to was now gone, and he had absolutely no one to blame but himself. He still remembers the grip of Derek’s hands around his arms as he pulled him away from the fatality beneath him, still remembers the blood staining his fingernails. There is only so much evil soap can erase.

Sometimes he felt like the Devil studied the blueprints of his life for ideas, and then he remembered that it’s only him that creates the wars waging on the homefront. How long can he sit here in the dark, touching the floor in their home where his wife’s blood stained the wood? He hadn’t been here in years, but he needed to be here, he needed to feel her again. The blonde underneath him wasn’t Haley, no, but she was close enough. She bore just enough resemblance to his wife and son to justify stealing her away, but just was different enough to let his fist close around her throat. Too fragile to fight him off, she never stood a chance, not when he’s creating his own bloodshed. The blood running from her eyebrow where his wedding ring had sliced her skin open simply pushes him over the edge, and when her body stops writhing under his closed hand, he realizes he has no idea what her name is.

Maybe he was born with this brutality, perhaps he never stood a chance against the test of time. After all, he wasn’t just chasing killers, he was learning from them too. Cold, calculated, planned. Premeditated, wasn’t that what they called it? He watched her for weeks, needed to know that she would fulfill his fantasy, his need. He made sure she was alone, no children or husbands left behind. Not just to eliminate witnesses, but because Aaron had been on the side of that losing fight. He wouldn’t wish it on his worst enemy. This is just his conflict, this is just his deserved combat. No one would be surprised if he snapped, would they? It was all he knew, it was ever-consuming and at the end of it, he’d be lucky to have even a fragment of a soul left. Emily had warned him once about keeping everything so far shoved down that you lose the ability to distinguish between yourself and your trauma.

There was so much darkness, so much fear. He was so tired of holding everything on his shoulders. So he found a way to put it down, he found a way to try to heal. He had to make it right. He had to give Haley another chance to die, and maybe this time it would be right.

There hadn’t been a break in this case for months. Women disappearing then reappearing mangled and murdered, always a different MO, their only common thread was victimology. Blonde single women, never anyone to miss them other than their work.

“Hey, I hate to say this but...these women, they all look like Haley.” JJ says tentatively, glancing at the tacked up photos of the victims.

An unnerving quiet falls over the room as the team looks at JJ, a mixture of resignation and horror painting their faces.

Rossi nods with a pained look. “They do. And...Aaron fits the profile.”

Spencer looks up and adds quietly, “And he took off work for three weeks when the killings started.”

“No, he wouldn’t. Not Hotch.” Morgan stands and shakes his head. “I still think it’s Evans.”

Rossi sighs. “Evans has an alibi, Morgan. Aaron doesn’t.”

Morgan scoffs, looking to anyone for help and settles on Emily. “Prentiss, you really believe this?”

She sighs, looks up at him and says, “I’m sorry Derek, he fits the profile perfectly. We always say profilers make the best unsubs.”

“Damn the profile! They can be wrong. We’ve been wrong before.” Morgan pleads, looking around the room for someone on his side.

“Look, why don’t we just go to his house? If I’m right, then we bring him in. If we’re wrong, then we’re just checking on him. Okay?” JJ reasons.

“You can waste your time all you want, but I’m going to talk to Evans.” Morgan seethes, looking to Spencer. “You coming with me, kid?” Spencer just nods, throws JJ an apologetic glance, and grabs his jacket and vest, following Morgan out of the room.

“I’ll go with you, JJ. Prentiss, stay behind and keep in contact with Garcia, just in case.” Rossi instructs. JJ nods, and they head in the opposite direction of Morgan and Spencer, and JJ prays she’s wrong about this.

Prying open the door to Hotch’s house, JJ shakes her head. This isn’t how she wanted this to end. She tiptoes through the room, Rossi following behind her while they work to clear the area. As they go upstairs, she starts to hear crying.

Toeing open the bedroom door, JJ calls through, “Hotch?” She sees him, hunched over a blonde woman, blood pooling on the carpet between his knees. “Hotch!” He still isn’t responding, sobs wracking through his body. “...Aaron?” She tries, pitching her voice down.

He turns to look at her then, no sign of recognition on his face. He looks broken and battered. He still doesn’t look like a murderer.

Meeting his eyes, she says, “Aaron, it’s JJ. We can help you but I need you to put the knife down.” The heart beating inside her chest is so much less scared than it is breaking in half to watch this man she called family die.

He turns to her, blood on his outstretched hands and a sad smile on his face. “You’re here, you’re finally here.”

Confused, JJ cocks her head to the side, gun still trained on him.“I’m...here?” She asks.

He lurches towards her, knife in hand.“I missed you so much.” He swipes a blood covered hand under his eye to wipe away the tears, and JJ’s stomach curdles at the sight.

Rossi takes a step forward to meet JJ, and says quietly, “Aaron, stay back.” Hotch doesn’t seem to hear him, staring directly at JJ.

Unsure of what’s happening, JJ decides to lean into it, in the hopes that making him feel understood would avoid casualties. “I...missed you too.”

He gestures behind him to the still body, and says, “I did it, see? I finally got it right!” He’s shouting, and his happiness is unnerving.

JJ steps forward a little, staring at him. “Aaron...I’m sorry, but I don't understand. Could you...explain it to me?” Maybe even in this state, he’s still sane enough to be logical. Maybe.

Hotch barks a bitter laugh, “Foyet, he didn’t do it right. He…disgraced you.” You? All of a sudden JJ realizes what’s happening and she chokes back tears. She’s not Haley, but she can be for a minute if it protects him.

She softens her voice, holsters her gun and steps forward with her hands up. “I’m...I’m here now. And I've missed you so much. Why don't you put the knife down, and then-”

He shakes his head violently, sweat and tears flying off his face.“It’s too late.” He’s muttering to himself and JJ can’t understand the words under his breath.

JJ swallows thickly. “What do you mean? I’m here, it’s ok-”

He cuts her off abruptly, waving the knife at the girl behind him dismissively. “She's already gone. She’s already gone.” He looks up through tears and smiles sadly at JJ, at the figure of his late wife in front of him. “...I got you back, though. You're here. You're here and I...-” He breaks down in sobs, sinking to his knees and clutching the knife to his chest.

JJ steps closer, looking down at him in pity. “That's right, I’m here. And everything will be okay, I just need you to put the knife down. Can you do that for me, Aaron? Put the knife down.”

He looks up at her, dropping the knife to the floor with a loud clatter and JJ drops to her knees, wrapping her arms around the broken man before her and they’re both crying. “I’m so sorry, Haley.” She just shushes him, pulling him up to his feet.

“I gotta cuff you now, Hotch. It’s for your own good.” Rossi has tears in his eyes, pulling the silver metal from his belt and clasping it around Hotch’s wrists. It’s then that the illusion shatters, and he sees what he’s done. JJ leans down and presses her fingers to the inside of the girl’s wrist, searching for a pulse, but it’s useless. Like he said, it was too late. She was already gone.

“JJ?” Hotch asks pitifully. “What did I do?” He looks so tired, so crushed.

“I don’t know, Aaron. But we’ll fix it.” She’s still got slow tears rolling down her cheeks, and she takes him from Rossi, guiding him down the stairs and out the front door where the rest of the team is waiting, the looks on their faces a mixture of fear and disgust and pity.

War was ever-consuming. War within, war in the world he struggled to hold up on his shoulders. He could never decide if he saw himself more as Ares or Atlas, never could deify himself in the way he was expected to. Head of the unit, head of his remaining household, head of his world. And yet, he chose war every time. This time, the blood on his fingertips was no longer metaphorical, but the weight of the world fell off. As he’s pulled away from his home, he sees JJ and Jessica huddled over his son, and he wonders if what he’s done is worth the weightlessness.

taglist: @ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff @andiebeaword @dreatine @muffin-cup @httpnxtt @sunlight-moonrise @samanddeanstolethetardis221b @spencer-reid-in-a-pool @fanficlibrary82 @zhuzhubii @prettyricky187 @reidlusts

#criminal minds fanfic #aaraon hotchner #aaron hotch fanfiction #hotch fanfiction #criminal minds gen fic #unsub!hotch #dark!hotch

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remythologise · 3 years

Note

Hello! I found your blog via you amazingly summarizing all that's going on with the spn drama. Due to my schedules, rl stuff, some of the arcs that didn't vibe with me, my availability to find a place to watch...the rollercoaster I was used to with this fandom was more me binging it in a weekend to going months to over a year without watching it. I still haven't watched the last season(but with a fandom this big it's pretty impossible not be spoiled so I more or less know what happened) BUT oh great one I ask of thee for more information if you have it...other than being busy and whatnot, I'm not really one to keep up with the actors as well. So could you also maybe do a summary of all the stans? I'im seeing terms I haven't seen before. Who is Kelios(sp?)? Hellions?? probably messed it up but like...I guess what are the name of each legion? Who do they have alliance towards? What was their desires? Que paso?!?!?!?

Hi there! 'Some of the arcs that didn't vibe with me' me emotionally quitting Supernatural in Season 7 after they killed Castiel 😂 Anyway I totally get it, I went through the same culture shock mid-last year when I got back into SPN and tried to find where fandom was at! There's really a LOT of lore and content after 15 years though so I'll just do the broad brushstrokes based on my impressions and personal stereotypes PLEASE remember this is oversimplifying groups and individuals to tendencies and I'm very biased! Also important that there are sub-factions within sub-factions - again, I'm simplifying here!

I've also linked to the 'Super-wiki' in terms of some definitions because the Super-wiki has pages for them where the Fandom-wiki does not. Great introduction actually - only in the Supernatural fandom. There are two Supernatural wikis. One, through curation and twitter activity, supports BiBro/Wincest factions and does not support Destiel users. One is more neutral or Destiel-friendly (I don't know that the Fandom wiki has a personality/social media presence per se). You cannot make this up. There is a factional war... within use of fandom wikis.

Destiel faction

People who primarily ship Dean/Cas, love Castiel and (often, although not always) Jack, and the 'found family' of Supernatural as well as the brothers, and like the post s3 seasons too. Hated 15.19 and 15.20 for killing Dean and ignoring the other characters/narrative arc of the show. Nicknamed 'Destihellers' by the Wincest faction as a derogatory term, 'reclaimed' and shortened as 'Hellers', a nickname they use affectionately to describe each other. See more info on nicknames here.

Sometimes also ship ‘Cockles’ (the ship between Misha Collins and Jensen Ackles) although generally speaking they're more respectful of the wives of the actors than J2 shippers, who are notoriously responsible for... a vast series of insane-fan misdemeanours. Historically most were also good at keeping RPF to themselves and not harassing celebrities with it directly, although recently, particularly with younger twitter fans, that has not been the case.

Sub-factions:

The ‘Desticule’ or ‘Destiel tumblr’ - general grouping of Destiel-shipping tumblr users around 20-30 years old, usually LGBT+, most who came back to the show post-15.18 after leaving it for various reasons including getting sick of the queerbaiting. Funniest bitches alive etc. and responsible for the best text posts you’ve ever seen. Can also start stupid discourse and in-group drama when they’re bored.

'POLOL' - People of Lots of Letters, a discord group (of tumblr and twitter users) that ran on the assumption Andrew Dabb was playing a hugely intricate game of 3D chess to do with gnostic symbolism among other things, and would make Destiel canon. Have since had their own factional sub-wars and fallen apart a bit. Some of their meta was and is good and interesting! Some of it was wildly off the mark. Now generally insist that Dabb/the writers were all pushing for Destiel canon and the network is entirely to blame.

Twitter fans (TikTok edition) - younger fans around 18 and younger who (FOR REASONS BEYOND ME) started watching the show around 2018-2020. Definition of 'stans'. Tend to be very loud and aggressive on twitter when Events Happen, which like. I do get, because they've grown up in a completely different media environment and this kind of Dinosaur Politicking around LGBT+ issues is beyond them. Fancam central. Anyway stream #CASTIEL for clear skin!

Twitter fans (AO3 edition) - older fans around 30+ who kept going with the show but either don't have a large tumblr presence or just prefer twitter. A lot of fic writers, GISH-ers, and BNFs in this group. Some of them are very cool and reasonable in their opinions, some of them act like the younger stans. Some of them too accepting of what happened wrt 15.19-20 in my opinion, because, in contrast to the younger twitter stans, they grew up expecting Destiel to NEVER be canon or respected. 'Can't believe we got this far' etc.

Multiship faction

Multishippers or shippers of things not as large as the two main behemoths . Sub-factions based on shipping, e.g. Megstiel and Sastiel. I don't think these groups are very large though, and seem to have very little influence in the Discourse.

Wincest faction

LARGE overlap with the 'BiBro' faction and their opinions, which I'll get to. Ship Sam and Dean romantically. Often pretend to be BiBros on places like twitter and reddit in order for outside groups to take their opinions more seriously. 'Wincesties' etc. are derogatory nicknames given by the Destiel faction.

Sub-factions:

Multiship fans - ship Sam and Dean but respect Castiel/the 'found family'. Politically overlap with the faction of multishippers, I think. I don't have a lot of insight on this group of people honestly, but I know they exist.

Bronlies - the typical BiBro and 'Wincest' shippers most people think of, twitter user 'Kelios' is one of the would-be ringleaders of this faction - typically tend to be older white midwestern women. Historically have been pretty nasty on twitter (leading to Robert Berens, writer who made Destiel canon, occasionally subtweeting Kelios). Also tend to ship 'J2' - and take it very seriously as a legitimate thing that is really real. This is called 'tinhatting'.

BiBro faction

People who think the show should JUST be about the brothers, love Supernatural s1-3 and everything after it should have been just like Supernatural s1-3. Hate Castiel, Jack, and the 'found family'. Largely loved 15.20. Go to literally any comments section on any Supernatural article and You Will Find Them complaining about how the show should just be about the Brothers. Tend to be older, straighter, and more conservative/Republican (and male) fans. (I am aware that the definition of 'BiBro' used to refer to people who just liked the brothers but there's no definitional difference now in the discourse.) The Wincest and BiBro faction are generally much more wealthy than the Destiel faction (they being younger and more diverse/queer/left-leaning in general) and would be the biggest revenue generators at conventions etc.

Sub-factions:

Reddit bros - literally anyone who visits r/supernatural. Well, that's not fair - there are people who post reasonable opinions on there, but it's pretty rare and they get downvoted a lot. Like to talk about 'toxic Destiel fans' 'ruining the show' and how Dean is a straight man who is straight and could never possibly be gay. Might even think the confession was platonic despite all evidence to the contrary. I'm Not Homophobic I Have Gay Friends, But No Gays on MY Show!

Old Guard - group of older fans who overlap strongly with the Wincest faction, but might not necessarily ship Wincest.

GA faction

'General Audience' - These are the group of audience members that aren't 'online' so to speak; most watch the show on TV as a Casual Viewing Experience (are therefore also sometimes referred to as 'casuals'. Mostly their opinions tend towards BiBros, but they have a vast range of baffling views thanks to being Not Online and usually Not caring about Supernatural that much or thinking that deeply about it.

Sub-factions:

People who simply watch Supernatural on TV and then don't think about it very much after that.

I said they weren't 'online' but that's not entirely true; I'd probably classify people on Supernatural Facebook Groups as GA, along with friends of friends who post statuses about how 15.20 was a neat finale that wrapped up the series.

Conclusion

Supernatural is famously the show that appeals to both Republicans and Democrats, literally All Orientations, so there's a WIDE range of factions. However, most warring online boils down to Destiel vs. Wincest/BiBro - the war that started in Season 4 and has simply never ended. In terms of the 'actors' and their stans, in general, Wincest/BiBro fans love Jared, like Jensen, and dislike Misha. Destiel fans love Misha, like Jensen, and dislike Jared. Of course as with everything, there are variations and this is just a generalisation. But that's the summary of it, from my perspective!

This didn't even get into Sam girls, Dean girls and Cas girls. God. Anyway.

Hope that answered your question, anon!

#for some reason read more does not work on my blog main page now? you'll have to click the permalink #season 17 time for a theme change tumblr has broken this one too much sigh #ask #anonymous #this might be the most controversial thing I've ever posted or I might escape with nobody noticing it. Only Two Outcomes #didn't mention any other factional ringleaders because well #I value my life etc.#unironically who will fund me writing the PhD on supernatural fandom etc. etc.#the graphs. the statistics. the sociological insights #kira for ts #supernatural spoilers #spn spoilers

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kyovtani · 3 years

Note

Following those Qs, I’d just like to say as someone who might be directly effected, I appreciate the care you take with your warning and tags! Even if you fumble from time to time, we can tell you’re really trying and everyone should keep that in mind. You don’t have to do it, but you do!

I can’t bring myself to read the ex wife and a lot of your dilf stuff because of life experiences, (parents/step mother drama, she’s 4 years older than me and acts like the most babyish bimbo, irl it’s the most vomit inducing, soul destroying thing, but whateves, what’s a bit of estrangement from you father am I right?💀), the tags are so helpful to help me navigate things and avoid these specific works so I can be horny in peace 😌. I appreciate you being so gentle and understanding and in turn I’ll understand if you miss something or forget to add a TW. I’ll always be a fan and adore all you other work that doesn’t include the specific dynamic in question. Thank you Zade, I think you’re really lovely 🦦

aaaaaah for some reason this really made me tear up- thqnk you so much for your words, i genuinely appreciate them and will take them to heart. 🥺💗

to me personally, making sure everything is tagged properly is really one of the most important things. i had people trigger me by not tagging things or giving TW/CW's and to have you guys feel like that is the last thing i want. sometimes i do forget stuff and i panic so hard because i imagine someone being triggered bc of me and it just hurts my soul.

i would never be mad at someone for pointing out a tw/cw i forgot because it's really just about everybody's comfort, including mine. i am so happy about the option to blscklist literal content because even if i do forget a tag, if it's in the content blacklist too, it will automatically hide the post as soon as the word is mentioned in the post, so that deffo saved me quite a few times.

and lastly, i really do understand why you wouldn't be so fond of that content and that's why i'd never blame you for not enjoying it- and i'm always happy to give certain things specific tags to make the tumblr experience as comfortable and enjoyable for you guys as possible!

thank you so much, i love and appreciate you with my whole heart MWAH

#— nonies

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itsybitsylemonsqueezy · 4 years

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Hey, it’s me again! ^_^ I hope I don’t bother you too much with my requests, but your posts are so cool I just can’t help it. Upon completing Yakuza 4 I’ve had a lot of thoughts and feels about Daigo and how his character was handled across the series. To be honest, at first I didn’t like him much, because he seemed pretty bland (and his screen time leaves much to be desired), but soon enough he’s really grown on me. What is your opinion on him if you don’t mind me asking?

I definitely do not mind requests! Meta is my bread and butter c: I’ve just been busy for a few days, sorry ^^; And... my opinions on Daigo are not going to be as mindblowing or exciting as my opinions on Kiryu, I’ll be real ^^; And there’s a big advantage in Kiryu being the protag, All of the content is about him ^^; I do love Daigo, I think he’s a super interesting character, but his tragedy is just what you pointed out, he’s underutilized. And he isn’t set up very well to have the position he holds.

But, so saying, let’s get into my essay on Daigo ^^;

So, we meet Daigo properly in game 2. There’s little side stories with baby Daigo in Zero which helps build Daigo’s and Kiryu’s relationship and set up for what would later happen, but we don’t really know him until game 2. And game 2 is a LOT about Daigo and his arc and what he’s meant to be! There’s a tumblr text post meme somewhere with a pic of Daigo depressed in his little puffy white coat that says “And I’ll probably become the next chairman of the Tojo Clan. Things like that just happens to guys like me.” and that is totally accurate! Like, it’s a funny thing to complain about, but that’s obviously the struggle Daigo’s having, understanding from a young age that it was obviously his destiny to succeed Sohei, the only problem is uh... well... Kiryu.

I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Dojima Sohei never became chairman of the Tojo Clan. And that’s really wild thinking back to Zero and how powerful he was, he was all but a shoo in for chairman. But then, uh... Kiryu. Kiryu happened. Kiryu, and Majima I should say, are the reason Sera becomes chairman, not Sohei. Forever upsetting the wheels of fate. Given where we see Sohei next, I can’t imagine that he ever really recovered from that upset ^^; And I’m SURE it made him bitter towards Kiryu the rest of his life. And considering, again, where we see him next, I think the canon supports this ^^;

So what becomes of Daigo’s destiny then? His father had victory snatched away, destiny denied, and everything he had slowly crumbles over time, leaving his son with less and less to inherit, but still with the ideology that he should take this over. That’s an awkward position to be in.

And then Sera dies. Ooh, golly, I wonder who the next chairman’s gonna- it’s Kiryu. Of course it’s fucking Kiryu, how could it not be? It OBVIOUSLY should be Kiryu. He’s the strongest, the bravest, and who inspires the most loyalty. It doesn’t matter that Kiryu’s never been in leadership before, he TURNS people. Kiryu could get anyone on his side through sheer force of personality, which is hilarious to say about a guy with maybe 3 facial expressions. But tell me I’m wrong. I cannot count the number of part-time antagonists who turned on a dime because Kiryu beat their ass. And anyone who can do that can rule the world. Kiryu was absolutely the best pick for chairman and I will fight the world on this.

(Abbreviated for length, this is a LONG post)

But... then Kiryu makes the stupidest decision of his entire fucking life and renounces the chairmanship. And he has his reasons, feeling unworthy, traumatized from the events of Kiwami 1, unsure if he even wants to stay in the yakuza or if there’s maybe something else he wants to do with his life... he’s going through a lot of intense self-reflection and self-doubt and, I hate to harp on it, but fucking trauma. His brother blew himself up in front of him in a bid for redemption after all but telling Kiryu that all of his mistakes are Kiryu’s fault. Yeah, no, I’m sure Kiryu’s doing FINE with that. So, like, I can see why Kiryu said no, but it was still... fucking nuts. And it irrevocably changed the trajectory of everyone in this universe. Which Kiwami 2 goes out of its way to explore. Kiryu’s leaving? Majima fucking retires, Terada’s suspect, there aren’t any old, loyal hands left to lead the families, and we see how vulnerable the Tojo clan is on every side because Kiryu just up and fucked off.

(I have A LOT of feelings about Kiryu being chairman and someday I will have the strength to write the AU we all deserve where Kiryu stays as chairman)

So... the wheel of fate turns and oh yeah remember Daigo? Dojima Sohei’s son Daigo? The kid who’s been raised his whole life to take over the clan only to be denied at every turn? How’s he doing? Not great! It turns out, not great! Kiryu, his father figure, killed his ACTUAL father, but didn’t really, took the blame for some other weird guy, leaving Daigo with one badass mother and very little direction in life. Daigo’s been brought up thinking he’ll take over a great kingdom but all that’s left now is a broken wreck about to be demolished and picked apart by scavengers. Great, yeah, just what any kid wants to inherit. And he wasn’t trained to fix this, it’s kinda shitty to saddle him with destiny and then not train him for the thing that actually has to be done and then do it anyway. It’s real shitty actually. And not many people help Daigo.

Daigo couldn’t have taken the chairmanship directly from Sera, he was still just a teenager then. But it probably would have been nice if Kiryu checked in with him even fucking once since getting out of jail. But no, we never explain on screen to Daigo what happened as far as I can remember. Which, I feel, is a pretty fucking big oversight. How the fuck is Daigo supposed to trust you Kiryu? Or we’re supposed to believe he just figured it out off screen and holds no grudges? Like, I’m sure knowing Kiryu didn’t kill Sohei helps, but he couldn’t fucking tell you that himself? He couldn’t trust you with that information or that conversation? Fuck this. Very understandably, Daigo has his own crisis of faith about the yakuza, very much in parallel to Kiryu’s. Why the fuck SHOULD he go to bat for a crumbling organization that has only proven itself to be a dog chasing its own tail, willing to devour itself at the slightest provocation? It took his father, both his fathers, and he didn’t really get either of them back. Why the fuck should he try to fix that?

And to its credit, Kiwami 2 does a decent job of articulating Daigo’s motivations there. I could have done with even more, but I think they do him credit in showing him as disenfranchised and lost. And I think it’s refreshing to see someone have to confront the consequences of what’s happened since Kiryu left. Because the games don’t do a good job of showing that this is Kiryu’s direct fault. They never like to make Kiryu’s decisions have consequence, which is poor use of a protag. Rightly or wrongly, their decisions ALWAYS have consequence, or they’re not the protag. You can’t have it both ways. If this person is going to matter then, guess what, their consequences matter. Kiryu turned away. Rightly or wrongly, he did that. Daigo will never get that opportunity. Child of destiny. Not only was he bred and raised for this, he doesn’t know how to do anything else either. He doesn’t have other options the way Kiryu does. And we’re in a terrible vacuum of power. Terada’s namely in charge, but no one’s loyal to him. Even if he wasn’t deliberately fostering this, the Tojo Clan can’t survive without faith in their leader. Daigo, by fact of being his fathers’ son, can bind what’s left. And he has to because Kiryu won’t. Which is... really shitty. So either Daigo does this, or we all hang. And we never quite articulate that this is on Kiryu’s say so. Kiryu could still take over now and fix it he just... won’t.

And on top of this already comfortably stressful situation... we set Daigo up to come into a stable situation of power, where his transition would be smooth. We didn’t give him the tools to know how to salvage. He’s not practiced negotiating with hostile entities or even just people who will resent him because he’s young. And he’s lost a lot of faith, without even charisma and willpower on his side, this is a massively uphill battle. If he doesn’t believe, who else will believe him? Daigo knows this. And we watch that struggle go on, all while Kiryu just cheerleads. He hasn’t decided yet if he’s gonna stay in the yakuza either and he’s lowkey depressed after Kiwami 1. Lowkey he’s just suffering depression and can’t do as much as he normally would. Not an excuse, but I think an important way to read how tired and reluctant he is. Some therapy would really fucking help.

Anyway, we manage to get through Kiwami 2 and install Daigo as chairman, at which point Kiryu fucks off for good. Now, he kinda/sorta leaves some supports for Daigo, in Majima specifically, but also in Kashiwagi and I wanna believe in Daigo’s mom too. She was so cool and then we just... never talked about her again ^^; Laaaame *sigh* So, I guess, Kiryu did try to fulfill his remaining responsibilities as Daigo’s living father, but mostly it was just an excuse for him to leave and not feel guilty. Mostly it was him foisting off his duties onto someone else. He didn’t stay to teach Daigo everything he knew about the people Daigo would have to control. He didn’t teach Daigo and Majima how to talk to each other, a thing which REPEATEDLY comes back to bite us in the ass. He’s not there for Daigo to ask advice and help. Kiryu is full of confidence for Daigo, he’s not TRYING to make him fail, but Kiryu’s so caught up in his own need to leave, he neglects to people who need him.

And Daigo, to his everlasting credit, does his best to get by without Kiryu’s help. As much as possible, he never calls to ask Kiryu for help. And he does grow into a quite competent chairman! He does successfully rehabilitate the Tojo Clan, he makes them profitable again, he insists on respect and people don’t run amok under him. He does it, he salvages a dying organization. And he may not even really believe in it, but he has such a sense of responsibility, he does it anyway. He knows there’s no one else. He knows if he goes to Kiryu and says I don’t want this, Kiryu won’t help him. Kiryu didn’t mean for it to happen this way, he didn’t mean to be selfish and put others in a bad position. But he wasn’t there to listen. And I think Kiryu eventually comes to rue that.

The very unfortunate thing about Kiryu is... he is a dragon. Even though he is kind and generous and not greedy in a conventional sense, he is greedy. As much as Kiryu is a powerhouse because come hell or high water, he does what he thinks is right... this also makes him extremely selfish. He can be blind to other people’s needs and refused to be tied down. Again, for the best of reasons, because he’s trying to raise a family, because this environment is triggering for him, but he just hauls off and does things instead of talking to anyone which... makes him impossible to have a working relationship with. He has to learn to talk and to listen and that he can’t make all of the decisions by himself. The great irony being, Kiryu never wants to, but he doesn’t know how to ask for help. He’s so used to have everything put on him, he doesn’t realize it doesn’t have to be that way... but anyway, I’m getting caught up ^^; The point is, he thinks because he ditched the Tojo Clan they no longer care about him. Which is... naive at best. Of course people still care about you dumbass. Which makes Kiryu a massive vulnerability to the Tojo. In 3 and 4, Daigo makes stupid calls trying to protect Kiryu and trying to protect his interests. And because Kiryu hasn’t left open an avenue for them to talk, Daigo has to make these decisions on his own with bad information and he does his fucking best. But... he doesn’t know how to make the best of what he has, not like Kiryu would, and he fucks up sometimes.

I really, really love game 4 for that reason. Daigo’s fuck up is SO understandable, SO reasonable. It sounded like a good idea, it sounded like peace and harmony. And he was left without a leg to stand on before he knew it. In many ways, it wasn’t his fault. Kiryu himself says as much. And I may never forgive the end of 4 for letting Kiryu REALIZE he defaulted on his responsibilities but then, instead of changing his behavior in any way, he fucks off back to Okinawa. God... *siiiigh* ANYWAY.

And this struggle, this lack of communication, but unstated loyalty, comes full circle in game 5. When Daigo is literally drowning, literally knows he’s going to fail this time and there’s nothing he can do, and even when he’s with Kiryu, he can’t bring himself to ask for help. He knows Kiryu won’t or can’t. Instead he asks for absolution. He tries to tell his dad he’s just been doing his best and... he’s sorry for the terrible things that are about to happen. How gutting that Daigo can only see himself as a failure because... he’s not Kiryu. No one’s Kiryu. Even Kiryu refuses to be Kiryu. But Daigo knows if he was just Kiryu, things would be better. He’s not a legend. He’s not a god. He’s not all-powerful or crazy or impossible. He’s just a guy, doing his best because he had to. Because there was no one else. And some days Daigo does great, but a lot of days, he doesn’t measure up. And that eats at Daigo like mold. Kiryu would NEVER look at Daigo this way. Heck, most people at that point would never compare them. It’s in Daigo’s head, but it still hurts. He’s still, even now, looking up to Kiryu and he’ll just... never quite get there.

This is the only good thing I will ever say about game 6, and it was still 2 or 3 games too late, but Kiryu finally acknowledging Daigo as his son was good. Kiryu saying he was proud and saying he was grateful was good. Again, several games late, but... it still mattered. It still mattered that, in the end, Kiryu recognized his legacy in Daigo. That he understood so much of what Daigo did and does and is and was is for him. That mattered.

Daigo is a great chairman who takes care of his clan. But he was robbed of his relationship with his father. The games never work on the relationships that exist, strong relationships, for reasons I will never understand. Games 3, 4, and 5 would have been SO much more interesting if we had just like Kiryu talk to his fucking friends. Two would have been SO much easier if Kiryu had just been fucking chairman like he was fucking supposed to be and the transition of power to Daigo came later and smoother, with Kiryu helping to make it. Daigo tries his hardest every day and he’s an incredible negotiator and savior after all the shit he’s had to pull the Tojo Clan through, kicking and screaming and fighting to tear itself apart every damn day. The generation above him is all legends, Majima and Saejima and Kiryu. Daigo isn’t one of them. But he’s better because he was here and because he tries and because he succeeds. We need Daigo. We deserve him.

#Dojima Daigo #Yakuza #I don't even know spoilers for... all of the games #Games 2 and 4 especially?#The beginning of 5 #and the end of 6 #I mean... a little #you wouldn't know what happens in 6 if you read this #floweysky

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kriscme · 3 years

Text

One Life to Live

Hi, sorry for the delay if you’re following this story on Tumblr. The chapters that have been put on AO3 have at last caught up with the chapters here. New chapters will go up weekly from hence on. You might find it easier to read on AO3 though. I’d link if I knew how. I’m Kris22 over there.

As always thanks to Ronja for allowing me to write fanfic of her Hunger Games fanfic “The Chance You Didn‘t Take” available on AO3 and FanFiction. Chapter 30 “Marcus presents well on TV, doesn’t he? You wouldn’t guess how much he hates it.” My hand stills as I focus on the screen and Buttercup nudges his head beneath my palm in protest. I absently go back to scratching him behind the ears and his chest rumbles in contentment. “Yeah, well, you soon learn to fake it,” replies Johanna from the other end of the sofa. “You should know that better than anyone.” “Yeah,” I say. Fake or not fake, real or not real, on television who can tell the difference? “That’s where Gale and I used to meet to go hunting,” I tell her. Cressida had Marcus stand with his back to the valley, using the mountains in the distance as backdrop. The sun was directly behind him and it shone through his golden-brown hair and set it aflame as if it were a halo. Man-on-fire, I can almost hear Cinna say. He’s the darling of the media now. I don’t envy him. I nervously wait for the moment Cressida interrupted the interview to ask me how I feel about a national park but it’s like it didn’t happen. It’s been edited so seamlessly that no one would guess there’d been a break in the dialogue between Marcus and herself. True to her word, there’s not even the slightest glimpse or mention of me anywhere. And nothing either in the separate feature she did on District 12 that had aired immediately before.

I let out my breath in a long exhale and feel the tension ebb from my muscles. I imagine Marcus in District 13 having the same reaction. We felt sure that if there were any compromising footage it would come out either before the interview was broadcast or during. And apart from that . . . um . . . incident in the woods, what else could they have on us? Only that Marcus was a guest in my house but that was a very reasonable arrangement given the circumstances. Otherwise, it was all very circumspect. No public displays of affection, no chaining naked to trees, no fights with logging companies. Only Johanna knew the extent of our relationship, and I doubt she’d have told anyone. Peeta’s engagement to Lace would have made a juicy story, but thankfully he’s protected, having done nothing to attract publicity to himself – either through his own actions or through association with another. “Looks like you’ve dodged a bullet,” says Johanna. She reaches for the remote to switch off the television and then settles back onto the sofa. A plate of Peeta-made cookies is on the coffee table delicately iced in Peeta’s signature style. She takes one and scrapes off the icing with her teeth. Johanna likes the icing best. If you let her, you’d end up with a plate of cookies that look as if mice had been at them. “It would seem so,” I reply. I wish I could feel more certain, but if I’ve learned anything from my experiences is that life seldom is. In fact, feeling safe almost guarantees that you’re not. I forget to stroke Buttercup again, and tired of my erratic attention, he decides it’s time to move on. He drops to the floor and ambles over to his favorite lounge chair, tail swishing. He leaves behind a layer of cat hair on my dark green trousers. “I told you nothing would happen,” says Johanna. “Wouldn’t want to ruin the fantasy they’d put so much effort into perpetuating, would they? I stand naked against a tree for a good cause and the media goes berserk. You get caught shagging against a tree with the current golden boy and then nothing.” “You know that’s not true,” I say, exasperated that she still thinks like this. “Maybe at one time, when it would have made the Capitol look stupid if the truth came out, but not now. They’ve had no compunction giving Marcus bad publicity in the past so I can’t see why it would be different just because I’m involved. We were mistaken about what we heard that’s all, and then we let paranoia take over.”

I’d agonized over whether I should tell Marcus about Remus and the knowing look he gave me when I returned to camp. In the end, I decided that he should have all the information just in case he needed to be prepared. That was a mistake. Between Cressida’s return to the Capitol the following day and Marcus’s for District 13 a week later, our waking hours were spent alternating between optimism that we had nothing to worry about and then dread that we had everything to worry about. Marcus was petrified that another scandal would put his mission in jeopardy. As there’s no official mandate from the central government to establish national parks, he depends on the goodwill and co-operation of individual districts and a negative association with me – any association with me, actually – could have that support withdrawn. Especially in 13 where my name is anathema. For me, it was the terror of a media onslaught, that what had happened before could happen again – my private life no longer private but entertainment to be analyzed and exploited. That the careful re-building of my life as plain Katniss Everdeen would all come to naught. That it might impact on Peeta, who’s only just now finding himself after what Snow did to him. We had our first ever real argument. I told him it was his fault for breaking his own rule and luring me into a clandestine meeting with him for sex. And he said it was my fault for . . . he couldn’t quite articulate why it was my fault but it had something to do with being Katniss Everdeen. It seems if I’d been a nobody we could have fucked in the main street (his words) and while it would likely have had us arrested in 12 it wouldn’t have merited even the smallest mention in the Capitol. Because, you know, we’re just ignorant hayseeds and they are so much more sophisticated than we are and they have no morals (my words). Oh, and he wasn’t exactly a nobody either. In fact, that was the problem. We did calm down and apologize to each other and had make-up sex, which was nice, but it wasn’t how I imagined we’d be spending our final days together – tense, fearful, with each blaming the other for our predicament. It wasn’t until the night before he departed for 13 that we came to a mutual understanding. Neither of us were at fault. We were victims of our celebrity – a celebrity that neither of us had sought. Mine was thrust upon me, and his was a regrettable consequence of his life’s work. But I did tell him he was partly to blame. If he had been fifty, pot-bellied and bald instead of young, handsome and with eyes the color of maple-syrup that could melt any women’s heart, he wouldn’t attract a fraction of the media attention that he does. And then he told me that if I had been a scraggy, wrinkled old bat instead of young and nubile with eyes like silver moons and hair evocative of midnight, all the Games prowess in the world couldn’t have made me the cultural icon I’d become. We were just too good looking for own good. And then we laughed and had sex – playful, affectionate, I-want-to-remember-this-forever sex.

But the worry was still there when we lay in each other’s arms that night, and the next morning when we said our goodbyes. It was a bitter-sweet ending to what had been an unforgettable interlude but as I watched him pass through the Village gates for the last time, rucksack piled high, long legs in hiking boots striding purposely towards the next wilderness to be saved, I was struck by the rightness of it. It was how it was always going to end; how it always should have ended. Johanna tosses a denuded cookie back onto the plate and picks up a fresh one. She ignores the pained look I send her way. “Would you have gone with him?” she asks. “If you could?” I brush cat hairs from my trousers to give me a few seconds to think about it. I’d honestly never considered it since I can’t leave 12. But there was a time when I could have happily left everything behind and followed him around the country, hiking mountain trails and making love at every opportunity. It was at the concrete house by the lake, the morning after we’d made love for the first time and there weren’t enough superlatives in the world to describe how wonderful I thought he was, although now I find it hard to determine exactly what I did feel for him.

“No,” I say eventually. “Even if didn’t mean being in the public eye again, I still wouldn’t. We don’t want the same things.” I hesitate, wondering if I should say anything, but then blurt it out. “I don’t think I’m normal.” I brace for the sarcastic response I’m sure to get, but to my relief it doesn’t come. “None of us are,” she says grimly. “You don’t go through what we have and come out normal at the end of it.” She’s silent for a moment, but then rouses herself. “But if you want me to comment further, you’ll have to be more specific,” she adds. I sigh. I don’t know to explain it to myself, let alone to someone else. “Well, it’s about how I felt about Marcus. I mean, it wasn’t that long ago when I would have done almost anything for him. He made me feel so . . . so . . . “ “Turned on?” she smirks. I feel my face grow hot. I should have known the real Johanna couldn’t be too far from the surface. “Yes, but more than that. Wanted. Desirable. And we had so much in common too. But when he left, I didn’t feel much of anything. I should have been devastated, shouldn’t I?” “Rebound.”

“What?” “It was a rebound. It’s when you haven’t got over one relationship and you dive straight into another. Marcus gave you the validation that Peeta didn’t. It’s not so complicated. Pretty simple, in fact. Happens all the time.” “It does?” “Yep. It goes like this. You feel like shit because you’re still hung-up on your ex so you’re looking for a distraction – something or someone to make you feel better. So along comes Marcus who is clearly attracted and you transfer the feelings you don’t think Peeta wants on to him. Only it doesn’t last because it’s not based on anything real.” But some things were real. I really did like him, felt a connection with him, even. And I liked the sex, but maybe that’s just a physical thing. I haven’t been with enough men to know if it’s different when it’s with someone you truly love. “A rebound is bad then?” I ask. “Depends,” she says. She takes another cookie from the plate. “Has it made you feel better or worse? And then there’s the person on the other end of it. It’s generally considered not fair to them. But, if you had to pick the ideal man to have a rebound with, you couldn’t have done better than Marcus. I told you at the beginning– one track mind. Nothing competes with saving the forests for him.” Gale. He was like that. The cause is more important than any relationship. As soon as Gale heard about the uprisings in the Districts, he no longer wanted to escape with me into the woods when just minutes before, he’d been so keen. But Peeta, he would have gone with me, even though he knew it was a bad idea. “He told me he doesn’t keep girlfriends for very long. I guess that’s why,” I say. He’d also have figured out what a liability I’d be to him. And I certainly wouldn’t want the kind of life a relationship with him would entail. That final week had been an eyeopener for us both. But at least it ended well, all things considered. I put out my hand for a cookie but change my mind when I can’t find one that hasn’t had the icing scraped off.

“You’re disgusting,” I tell her. But I can’t keep from laughing. It’s part amusement, part relief. No repercussions from that lapse of judgement in the woods and an explanation that makes sense to me about my feelings for Marcus. I feel a sudden rush of affection for the woman who’s helped me through this – and more besides. Once I compared her to an older sister who really hates you. I guess I have to revise it to an older sister who sometimes seems to hate you but really doesn’t, and you can always depend on to have your back. “I’m going to miss you,” I say. “Yeah, I know,” Johanna replies casually as if she were picking lint off a sweater. “But my reason for coming here in the first place was to help Marcus out and he’s gone. Peeta doesn’t need me anymore either. So even if I hadn’t been asked to, it still would have been time for me to go home.” “You’re going to be great mayor.” “Thanks, but I’m not mayor quite yet. I have to be elected first. It’s the way it’s done now.” Before the war, District mayors were appointed by the Capitol but now all governing roles are decided by vote. It’s the republic Plutarch had talked about, just like in the history books. The people elect their own representatives. “You’ll get it,” I say confidently. “They love you in 7. They wouldn’t have asked you to run, otherwise.” Who’d have guessed that Johanna would be destined to be Mayor of District 7, but when you think about it, it’s the perfect fit. She’ll bring passion, commitment and integrity to the role. And essential for a career in politics, a thick skin. “So, have you thought about what you’d like to do on your last night here and to celebrate your candidacy?” I ask. “How about drinks first at the pub and then dinner at that restaurant you like or maybe see a movie. Or we could do all three. Anything you like. “ “Anything I like?” she asks ominously. Images of pub crawls, strippers and naked sprints through the streets flash through my mind. “What I’d like is dinner with just the four of us. You, me, Peeta and Haymitch.” I groan. This is far, far worse. “You more than anyone know the circumstances – “ “I don’t care,” she says flatly. “Ever since I got here, I’ve been stuck between the two of you. Haymitch has too. Why don’t you think of other people for a change and how it affects them? You and Peeta are Haymitch’s family! What do you think it’s been like for him?” “He hasn’t said anything,” I say, on the defensive. “How can I know if – “

“It should be fucking obvious! How brainless can you get?” She gives me a look filled with contempt. I guess she’s back to being the older sister who hates you. I hadn’t considered it from Haymitch’s perspective. He’d have missed the dinners, I suppose, but it’s not as if they could continue forever. They were only intended to help us establish a routine. And besides, it was Peeta who showed the first signs of breaking from them. “It’s not like I started it.” As I say it, I realize how false that is. I was the one who put a complete stop to the dinners and made things awkward between Peeta and me. All because I couldn’t handle him being with Lace. “I don’t care who started it,” she says, but less angrily than before. “It’s time for it to stop. Is this how you’re going to live the rest of your lives? Forever trying to avoid being in the same place at the same time? You’re neighbors, for fuck’s sake. You’ve been in two Games and a war together. You don’t throw away a bond like that because he fucked another woman when his brain was mush. And now that you’ve fucked another man, you’re even. There’s nothing standing in your way now. So, what’s stopping you? It can’t be Lace. She’s gone.” Gone, but not forgotten. Not by me, and not by Peeta either. But Johanna does have a point. If Haymitch is a kind of father figure to us both, then that makes us his children. And having two children who don’t get along and won’t join in any family activities if the other is there too, can’t have been easy. For my own part, it has been a strain avoiding Peeta when we live so close, work similar hours, and have Haymitch in common. But it hasn’t been just me. Peeta stopped seeking me out like he used to when he found out that I’m in love him. Nothing about our situation has changed, Lace or no Lace. He stays away from me because he knows that I’m in love him and he feels bad that he can’t love me back. And I stay away from him because I know that he knows, and feel humiliated that he does. But if . . . “You’re right,” I say. “It is ridiculous. You make the arrangements and I’ll be there.” “And now that Marcus is out of the picture – “

She stops suddenly, confused. “You will?” “Yes. In fact, I can hardly wait. It’ll be fun.” I rise from the sofa to gather the cups and the plate of ruined cookies to signal that the visit is over. Johanna looks stunned as if she can’t believe how easy that victory was. She was probably all primed to go into battle and then it failed to materialize. How disappointing that must be.

“Oh, Johanna!” I call out cheerily just as she’s about to walk out the door. I’ve just remembered something Haymitch told me. “Maybe we should let Peeta do the cooking. He likes to do it. He’d always take over when we had our dinners.” If I have to do this thing, I at least want the food to be good. “Sure,” she says, still dazed. And then she’s gone. I wonder if Peeta has already agreed to it, or that she still has the job of guilting him into it too. I decide that it doesn’t matter either way. Peeta will be motivated by the same reasoning as me. The present situation can’t continue. It’s funny, in the way that’s weird rather than amusing, that mine and Peeta’s situation is now reversed. In the days following the Games and before we embarked on the Victory Tour, he avoided me for pretty much the same reasons I avoid him now. And, in turn, I avoided him for the same reason he avoids me. It’s the discomfort of being around someone whose feelings you don’t return. But there’s one crucial difference. Peeta had hope. I know that now from what Haymitch told Peeta before the prep teams arrived. He could afford to wear his heart on his sleeve knowing that there was a good chance that if I was given the space I needed, it was only a matter of time before I felt the same way. I have no hope. Therefore, my strategy will have to be different. This is about survival, not about capturing Peeta’s heart.

Peeta will have to believe that whatever I felt for him, I no longer do. That’s the only way we can be at ease with each other. I may never stop loving him, but I know how to bury my feelings so that they don’t show. I’ve had plenty of practice at it. After my father died. When I was reaped. When he started going out with Lace. I can do this. I can put on a show. I don’t even have to be good at it. In the Games, Peeta was convinced I was in love him because he wanted to believe it. So now I do the opposite and he’ll believe because he wants to believe. And if he can’t do that, he’ll pretend. We’re both very good at pretending. Chapter 31 Venia purses her lips at the state of my nails. “There’s not much I can do with these apart from a polish. If you want artificial nails, you’ll have to come back when Octavia’s here.” “It doesn’t matter,” I say. “I mostly just wanted my hair trimmed.” The shape Flavius had cut into my hair has nearly all grown out. Working at the school during the week, and out in the woods with Marcus on the weekends hadn’t left much time for trips to the beauty salon. I ask, “Where’s Octavia? Not sick, I hope.”

It’s unusual not to see Octavia at her station, her auburn head bent over her task. Since Venia re-united with her coworkers, each has settled into their former specialties as beauty therapists. Flavius is hair and makeup. Octavia is the nail expert. And Venia is skin treatments and waxing. “She left work early,” smirks Flavius. “She has a date.” Venia collects a few tools from the nail station and returns to my side. While Flavius cuts, Venia smooths and buffs. It reminds me of my days as a tribute when all three of them would be working on various body parts at the same time. “We weren’t busy, anyway,” says Venia. “You’re the last customer for the day.” I know. That’s the reason I chose to come at this time. I didn’t want to take the chance of running into Lace when she’s having her roots done. “Anyone I know?” I ask. “Possibly,” replies Venia. “He’s from 12. Thom something. Bick? Hick?” “Hickory?” “That’s it. Hickory. Octavia’s had crushes before but she’s got it really bad this time. I caught her looking through wedding catalogues.” Venia pauses mid-buff. “I’m worried for her.” “How come?” Thom is a nice guy. He was a friend of Gale’s who helped with the clean-up of 12 and gave me a ride home in his cart when I was too weak to walk home. That was the day Peeta came back. “Because of . . . you know, of what we did before the war.” I don’t miss Venia’s use of “we”. If Octavia is accused of being a facilitator of the Games, they all are.

“But doesn’t Thom already know? He was in 13 at the same time as you.” All the survivors from District 12 actually. But Venia shakes her head. “Octavia didn’t know Thom then. We didn’t mix very much with the people there. We thought it safer to keep to ourselves. Especially after the bread.” I suppose being shackled to a wall and beaten for simply taking an extra portion of bread wouldn’t exactly endear the populace to you.

I try to reassure them. “You do know that I’d vouch for you if it ever came out? And tell them how you helped prepare me for the rebellion propos and Snow’s execution?” “I know you would. And maybe we’re worrying over nothing. But we risked a lot coming here and 12’s our home now. Flavius has met someone too – he’s from the Capitol, so that’s not a concern but if we had to leave . . . And Lucia is settled in school and has made friends and Cicero has a good job at the medicine factory . . .” And so Venia goes on. Flavius chimes in too. He tells me they’re set to take on two apprentices and once the tailor has moved out, they want to expand the salon –

“What? Arthur’s leaving?” This is the first I’ve heard of it. But maybe that’s not so surprising. I haven’t seen much of Arthur lately. It’s been only been Max, Johanna and me at pub nights. Arthur is obviously spending his Saturday nights elsewhere. “Oh, he’s not going far,” says Venia. “Just to another store on the main street. He says it’s better situated for passing trade and with the dressmaking shop next door it will likely bring more business to them both.” “I don’t think more business is the only thing those two want from each other,” says Flavius with a suggestive wink. “Flavius!” chides Venia, but she can’t conceal a smile. “It’s true, though. We misplaced the stone we use for sharpening scissors and Octavia went to ask Arthur if we could borrow his. But no one was there even though the door was open. So, she went through to the back, thinking that’s where he’d be, and she caught them red-handed, kissing, and his hand was up her skirt. Octavia forgot all about the stone.” The two of them collapse into giggles. “We didn’t think he had it in him,” says Venia, when she’s able to speak. Neither did I. I can’t laugh about it though. Peeta will be devastated when he hears that Lace has moved on. And so soon after their break-up too. But as badly as I feel for Peeta, I also can’t help feeling happy for Arthur. If there was ever a man who deserves reward for long devotion, it’s him. I only hope that Lace proves worthy of it. One thing I do know is that Peeta isn’t going to hear of it from me. I’m done being involved in his love life. It’s brought me nothing but trouble ever since he made that confession to Caesar Flickerman years before. My only objective is to get over him if I can and make sure that he thinks I have. And that makes this dinner tonight so important. It will set the stage for our relationship going forward. We’ll be friends. Not necessarily close friends. But at least friends who can enjoy social occasions together and feel comfortable in each other’s company. Johanna wants us to dress up so I guess that means I’ll have to wear a cocktail dress. I have one already in my closet. It’s the emerald green dress I wore to the party in 8. But it’s long sleeved and in a heavy fabric and that makes it too hot for this time of the year. I’ll have to go down to the basement where most of the Cinna clothes are stored. There’s a whole rack of cocktail dresses to choose from. But what do you wear when you want to show that you’ve made an effort, but don’t want to appear as if you’ve set out attract anyone in particular – and by anyone, I mean Peeta.

I begin by eliminating colours that are evocative of sunsets or flames. That takes care of anything orange, red or yellow. And then anything that Lace might choose. If Lace is Peeta’s idea of feminine allure then I should make sure to do the opposite. Therefore, no pastels, ruffles and especially any kind of lace. No. No. No, I think as I reject one dress after another. And then I find it. The perfect dress. And so different from the girlish or jeweled frocks that Cinna usually dressed me in that it’s almost as if he knew that one day, I might have a need for a dress such as this. It’s in unrelieved black. Simple and unadorned in slinky silk jersey. I really like it, but Peeta, who loves colour, probably won’t and it’s sure to send a message that I didn’t dress to please him. I accessorize it with black high-heeled sandals and silver and jet earrings. The dress comes to just above the knee with a deep halter neck. It’s impossible to wear a bra without it showing, so I leave it off. I turn around to check how it looks in the mirror from the rear. The clinging fabric does set off my best asset, but since it’s a dinner and I’ll be sitting on it, no one will see it. The burn scars, although much improved from the skin treatments, are still noticeable on my back. I decide to draw attention to it by putting my hair up in a kind of messy bun. This will contrast with Lace’s unblemished skin and immaculate hair and will surely show Peeta that I don’t care at all about being attractive to him. I arrive at Peeta’s door at the same time as Haymitch. He’s wearing a dinner suit, but his white shirt has already untucked from the waistband and his tie isn’t around his neck but dangling from his breast pocket. His eyebrows rise as he takes in my appearance and his lips curve in a sardonic smile. If I needed any confirmation of how incongruous I look in this get-up, I just got it. Johanna answers the door, elegant in a wine-red fitted dress with matching shoes. She appears to have paid a visit to the salon too, because her hair is now a uniform color and has been restyled to lie flat against her skull and frame her face instead of the usual red-tipped spikes sticking up all over her head. “I like your new look,” I tell her. “Yeah, it’s more conservative than I usually go for but I figure I have to start looking the part of mayor sooner or later. But what about you? What have you done with Katniss Everdeen?” I smile and shrug. I’m unsure if not looking like myself is a compliment or not. Peeta stops short when he sees me, his mouth gaping, but he collects himself quickly. “You look beautiful,” he says.

“Thanks,” I murmur. He sounds sincere but I know how easily Peeta can fake it. “You look good too.” And he does, in a cream suit designed by Portia. We move into the dining room. Johanna’s gone to a lot of trouble. I can almost imagine we’re at one of those fancy restaurants in the Capitol. Fresh flowers, dim lighting, the furniture polished to a high sheen. The table is resplendently laid out with the finest dinnerware and gold cutlery. These came with the house. I have them too but I’ve yet to use them. I wonder if Peeta recognizes the pattern on the plates as the same as those that accompanied our feast in the cave. Johanna and Haymitch take seats at opposite ends of the table. That leaves Peeta and me to sit across from each other.

White wine is poured into cut-crystal glasses and starched linen napkins are laid across laps. I wait for either Johanna or Peeta to start bringing in the food but they stay seated. How are we to eat if the food never leaves the kitchen? I eye the woven gold basket filled with soft rolls in the center of the table. Is that all we get? Just then, Cass enters the room carrying a large silver tray. “Good evening,” he says, as places a bowl of soup in front of each of us. “I hope you brought your appetites with you. Don’t forget to save room for dessert.” And then he’s gone. Presumably back to the kitchen. “What was that?” I say to no one in particular. “Cass is doing all the cooking tonight. He’s a qualified chef. He can cook all sorts of things - not just pastries and desserts,” says Johanna. “Yes, I know that. But what’s he doing here?” Peeta answers. “Johanna thought it would be nice to have a professional do the cooking so we could relax and enjoy ourselves.” Right. I just wish Johanna’s idea of relaxation was drinks at the pub, or a barbeque in the backyard. Any place where I didn’t risk locking eyes with Peeta at any minute. We can scarcely look at each other. Every time his eyes chance to meet mine, they flit away. It’s like being back at school. We’re doing a very poor job of acting at ease with each other so far. I’m a lousy actress at the best of times but I expected better of Peeta. Clearly the knowledge that I’m in love with him freaks him out to the extent that he’s forgotten all his acting skills. The food is a welcome diversion and I tuck in. The soup is creamy pumpkin sprinkled with slivered nuts and little black seeds. Sublime. I recognize it as one of the soups at the Capitol feast. It’s followed by those delicious little roasted birds filled with orange sauce. Then fish swimming in a green sauce flecked with herbs. And then, oh, I don’t believe it! Lamb stew with dried plums! On a bed of wild rice!

That makes me think of our feast in the cave, of course. It’s even served on the same patterned plates. My eyes instinctively search out Peeta’s. Do you remember it? You must, surely. How excited we were when that parachute arrived. How careful we were to eat only small portions so we wouldn’t be sick after so many days of hunger. And then how we whiled away the time until we could eat again – snuggled together in the sleeping bag, my head on your shoulder, your arms wrapped around me, imagining our life together if we survived the Games. You, me and Haymitch, you said. Picnics, birthdays, long winter nights around the fire retelling old Hunger Games tales. You must remember it!

But Peeta doesn’t look my way. His gaze flickers between Johanna and Haymitch without it ever landing on me even though we’re sitting directly across from each other. And he laughs just a little too loudly at Johanna’s poor taste joke about prunes and how we’ll all shit well tomorrow. He remembers our feast in the cave, all right! I’m certain of it. He just doesn’t want me to know that he does. To spare me the humiliation, probably. I want to kick myself. Gawping at him like a love-sick idiot – practically begging him to remember one of our most intimate moments together. At least Peeta has his wits about him, not letting on that the stew holds any particular significance.

I quietly return to my stew. It’s not as good as I remember it and I can only manage a few mouthfuls. Saving room for dessert, I tell Johanna, when she comments. Unfortunately, there’s a long break between this course and the next. I suppose Cass wants our stomachs to have a rest before he brings out the dessert which is sure to be spectacular. But it makes the pressure to appear congenial and unaffected by Peeta’s presence that much harder when I don’t have the food to distract me.

Since I got here, Peeta hadn’t spoken a great deal, and me even less. The conversation has been carried mostly by Johanna and Haymitch. She’s been picking his brain about the challenges of town planning and the provision of services such as garbage collection and road maintenance. Johanna had better get this job for mayor. She already acts as if it’s hers. That’s why it’s a surprise when the focus of attention turns to me. I’d been occupied twisting my crystal glass around by the stem watching the colours change across its facets. Anything to keep my mind off the person sitting opposite me. “You’ll step in, won’t you, Katniss?” Johanna asks. My head jerks up. “Hmm? What – “ “She doesn’t have to,” says Peeta quickly. “Step in for what?” I ask, directing my question to Johanna. “To watch the tapes with Peeta.” says Johanna. Before I can respond Peeta interjects again. “There’s no need to bother Katniss. I’ll be fine with Haymitch.” “You won’t,” says Haymitch. “The tapes labeled ‘to be watched with Katniss’ are all that’s left. It’s probably why the content has become repetitive lately. Aurelius has obviously run out of material I can help you with.” “You need to watch all the tapes,” Johanna adds. “You don’t know what memories are missing until you do.” “Katniss has already done her share. I’ll be fine watching on my own,” says Peeta. Johanna shakes her head. “You know that’s not how it works. You need someone to put it into context. Besides, the tapes were her idea to begin with. She should see it through.” Peeta turns to me for the first time. “There’s really no need.” He’s almost pleading with me. I really want to accept his offer to not watch the tapes with him. I know he’s giving me an escape but if I go along with it, it gives the impression that I’m afraid and that’s not good either. It has to appear as if I have nothing to hide. Which I don’t. Except the part that I’m still in love with him, of course. I can see where he’s coming from. After my slip-up with the stew, he’s worried that if I’m compelled to watch the tapes with him, I’m sure to give myself away. He’s protecting me from myself. I look coolly into the blue eyes of the person who is now my greatest opponent and I promise myself I will defeat his plan. Johanna is right. I should finish what I started. Remember that my primary objective was for Peeta to find himself. And if those tapes hold the final pieces, then I’m determined that he shall have them. I will watch those tapes, no matter how bad they are, and he will never guess from my reaction that I still carry a torch for him. It’s the only way we’ll ever be able to act normally around each other. “I’m happy to help,” I say. “Same time and place?” All eyes are on him. He’s trapped and he knows it. Peeta’s nod is almost imperceptible. What a timely moment for Cass to bring out the dessert. It’s a tower of pastries filled with different flavored custards, welded together with chocolate and studded with raspberries and sugared violets surrounded by an immense web of delicate spun sugar. There’s enough for at least a dozen or more people. But the best thing about it is that its position in the center of the table effectively blocks out my view of Peeta. So, Dr Aurelius has sent tapes that he wants Peeta to specifically watch with me. I wonder if I was ever going to be told about them. Probably not if it had been left up to Peeta. He’s obviously anxious about what’s on them. That makes me think that he has most, if not all, of his memories back. Enough, at least, to guess at how I feel about him. It seems that the tapes have progressed from those which showed me either indifferent or acting a part to when I began to return his feelings. And the irony is that it’s made not a scrap of difference. I’m glad now that Dr Aurelius sent the compromising tapes first. I had never stood a chance with him, even without Lace.

Cass comes out to clear away the dessert plates and the remains of that pastry thing. He frowns at how little impact we made on it. But it really was huge. To make him feel better, I ask if he can wrap it up for me to share around the staff room tomorrow. Max will probably make some joke about chocolate covered balls and phallic symbols. We finish with tea for Peeta and me and coffee for Johanna and Haymitch. Haymitch takes from his pocket a silver flask and pours a generous slug of whatever’s in it into his cup.

The dinner finally comes to an end. I pull Johanna aside before I go, ostensibly to say goodbye to her. I won’t see her tomorrow. The train for 7 leaves very early and Peeta has offered to walk her to the train station.

“The whole night was a setup, wasn’t it? To get me to watch the tapes with Peeta again?”

She doesn’t bother denying it. “Yep. Someone had to give the two of you a nudge in the right direction.” She gives me one of her stern big sister looks. “Don’t waste it.”

“I won’t,” I say. She doesn’t have to know that I have something completely different in mind to her.

I hug her goodbye and wish her luck. I don’t know when we’ll meet again. Not with me stuck in 12 and Johanna busy being mayor but maybe she’ll find time in her schedule to visit at some point.

“Don’t be a stranger,” she calls out as I leave. Where have I heard that expression before? Ah yes, Plutarch. They were the last words he spoke to me before he left the hovercraft that brought me back to 12. Thankfully, even after that scare with Marcus, that’s exactly how it’s stayed.

“Never,” I call back. No one could ever be the little sister that Prim was. But maybe I’ve gained a pretty good substitute for an older one.

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notthatiwilleverwriteit · 5 years

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~ anyone disciplining him growing up due to his father being in jail and his mother probably working full time to both live and pay off debts. In asian culture, at least in chinese culture, parents would hit you if you do something wrong, hoping that you would learn your lesson and would not repeat the same mistake again. That brings back to the chapter where he tian gave a sandwich to mo nicely, but mo just threw it away, causing he tian to beat mo,hoping that mo would not ~

~ do this again. He tian probably beat mo out of anger, but I think what old xian is trying to portray here is the father role played by he tian, that is to punish mo when he does something wrong. Also, I think disciplining mo requires the use of force because he doesn’t really listen if someone talks to him nicely (for example, the chapter where a classmate told him he couldn’t play cards in the class, and he just stormed off cursing and chapter where buzzcut told him about his anger issue?? ~

~ and he threatened to beat buzzcut if I remember correctly). Before meeting he tian, mo and his gang had been going around school picking up fights and destroying school properties (according to detention board). After he tian started sticking to him, it is very noticeable that none of these things occur again. It is very obvious that he tian’s presence is changing mo in a better way. Mo and he tian are just characters that compliment each other. He tian is teaching mo of how he cannot go ~

~ unpunished for every wrongful action that he does (which mo’s parents were never there to teach him) and Mo is teaching he tian of how being rich and popular does not mean he can have everything in his way and not everyone will bow down to him (in addition to all the mafia stuff and he tian needing mo to escape the dark world that many people have talked about). What do you think? (has anyone have written a similar analysis before?) Sorry for long post and spamming.

Good morning, dear anon-san! (^_^)/

First of all, sorry for taking my sweet time answering your question. I had a couple of school projects I needed to get out of the way first. Also, I wanted to take screenshots of the rest of your question, but Tumblr was being a pain and wouldn’t let me upload different kinds of images from the chapter pictures. So, I copy-pasted the rest instead.

You posed some interesting interpretations! Some of them differ from how I see Mo Guan Shan’s character and his relationship with He Tian, but they also introduced some new perspectives I hadn’t thought of before.

I wondered how to tackle your analysis. Your question has some overall themes running through, and my usual way of highlighting quotes to structure my answers doesn’t feel the most effective this time. So, I picked some keywords/phrases and the chapters you mentioned and I will try to give this answer some structure that way.

Lack of discipline in MGS’s upbringing

Let’s begin with MGS’s childhood and parenting. According to your interpretation, due to his absent parents (father in prison and mother working a lot to provide for the family) there hasn’t really been anyone there to discipline and punish MGS as a child. This has caused him to grow up without learning to follow rules and later resulted in him getting in trouble at school multiple times. I get the feeling that you’re not blaming the parents for any of that. It’s just due to the unfortunate events the family has gone through.

This is probably where I disagree with you the most. So far, we haven’t gotten any content of Mrs. Mo disciplining her son, but I don’t think he has grown up without proper punishments and learning his actions have consequences. I think it’s quite the opposite, actually. As you mentioned, she’s probably had to work long hours even when MGS was younger but I doubt she’s been as absent as you proposed. She doesn’t strike me as someone who would neglect her child’s upbringing that way even if she had to work a lot.

MGS might not follow the school rules but it’s clear he’s very responsible for a boy his age (ch. 259):

MGS takes care of the house (cooks, cleans, pays bills...) and works multiple part-time jobs. And I think that is the key to how he was raised instead of how he acts at school (I will get to MGS and school a bit later). Doing all those things at MGS’s age requires a strong sense of responsibility and most of all, discipline. I’m sure there have been countless times when he hadn’t felt like going to work after school or when he’s been too tired to cook for his mother so dinner’s ready when she comes home late. But because the situation of his family is what it is, he didn’t have a choice.

Bringing up your child like that doesn’t only take discipline but also trust. She had to be able to trust MGS would take care of things while she was away. I’m also sure she had had to be strict and tough with him in raising him like that, and it hasn’t always been easy for her. I’m sure she has had to deny a lot of “normal” things from him because she had needed him to help her with everyday necessities.

Another thing that hints at according to what principles MGS was raised was when he went to see his father (ch. 240):

We learned how much MGS looks up to his father and wants to become like him. In his eyes, his father is “upstanding” and someone respectable. So, it’s not like MGS lacked good role models growing up even before his father went to prison.

All of that being said, it is true MGS gets often in trouble at school and I’m sure the school has contacted his mother multiple times because of that. We haven’t seen that happening in the comic itself (yet) but we might have gotten one clue how she could handle those situations (ch. 177):

She knows her son better than anyone else in the world. She knows he has a temper and can get in trouble easily because of that but she trusts him. That doesn’t mean she always automatically takes his side or doesn’t believe the teachers. By trust, I mean she always wants to hear MGS’s side as well because there must have been a reason if he’s done something wrong. After that, she decides whether or not he should be told off or punished. If MGS has skipped school and comes home too early, she doesn’t discipline him right away but wants to know if something happened.

I also have a feeling that whenever the school contacts his mother because of something he did, it’s not something MGS wants either. He doesn’t want to burden her any further with his inability to stay out of trouble. His job is to help and take care of her, and it shames and pains him if she has to take responsibility for his stupid mistakes. His character is a heart-breaking combination of wanting to be a good son that his parents could be proud of but not being dealt with good enough cards in life to feel like he can achieve that. That was also evident in how he lied to his father about having friends and doing well in school. He didn’t want to disappoint him.

MGS, school, and gangs

You didn’t talk about school directly, but I think the way MGS acts around his classmates and is treated by them and the teachers is an important part of his character. You proposed he’s acting out in school because of his lack of discipline but again, I have to disagree.

I think MGS is being aggressive towards his classmates for one reason: it’s a defense mechanism. It origins from his childhood and isn’t obvious on the outside which makes it difficult to detect. So let’s take a look at what we know about MGS as a child being around his classmates (ch. 242):

At a very young age, he’s being treated unfairly by his peers. Rumors of his father being in prison caused prejudice and made it easy to point fingers at him whenever something bad or suspicious happened. A child of an alleged criminal couldn’t have been raised to follow rules, and no one should associate themselves with him. In that flashback chapter, little MGS is trying to deny the accusations but no one listens to him, let alone believes him. The situation escalates quickly as MGS gets frustrated and physically attacks his classmates which, of course, only worsens the situation.

What I think applies to MGS’s attitude towards his classmates these days is the principle of people tending to mirror the way others treat them. If someone is being hostile towards me, it’s likely I’d start acting the same way. Especially, if I feel like I’m not treated fairly or that people are being prejudiced. It’s a way to protect and defend myself.

However, it can easily become my everyday behavior if I’m constantly being treated like that in which case, I start being hostile and aggressive before others can attack me. Which, in return, feeds the prejudice and unfair treatment until it’s a vicious cycle and I end up becoming a social outcast.

This is evident when we look at how MGS acts in middle school. You mentioned the incident when one of his classmates tells him off for playing cards in the classroom and MGS ends up storming off (ch. 154):

I think that’s an excellent example of how MGS has become an outcast and how others now fear and dislike him. The way the other student tells him to stop playing because it’s against the rules wasn’t nice as you implied but rather aggressive as if she had readied herself to face him and hid her uncertainty behind hostility. MGS told her to mind her own business but interestingly walked away from the situation. As if he doesn’t want to be the center of attention because he knows everyone in the room looks down on him and hates him.

Again, I don’t see this kind of behavior as a sign of indiscipline but something that has developed over the years as a result of discrimination. MGS has learned it’s better to distance himself by appearing angry and unapproachable so people will leave him alone out of fear. None of his classmates really know him, though, and easily believe every bad thing said about him. All they see is his exterior which is somewhat understandable, especially at their age.

You also mentioned gangs in your ask, and that’s connected to MGS’s aggression and being an outcast. I’ve talked about this a couple of times before (X and X). As MGS kept drifting further and further away from the kids who didn’t accept him, he was heading towards gangs and delinquent lifestyle. A gang gave him a place to belong and being a delinquent fed his ever-growing aggression and his already bad reputation. Unfortunately, being surrounded by gangs and people like She Li only worsened MGS’s poor self-image and made him believe that was his place in the world. And SL took advantage of that and created an illusion that he was looking out for MGS and this was his destiny (ch. 178):

However, it wasn’t only MGS’s classmates who discriminated him, I believe it was the teachers as well. There’s one detail especially that has always stuck with me (ch. 265):

When the teacher (grey hairs) was telling MGS and HT off after the Coke incident, it’s obvious he doesn’t see the two students as equals. To him, HT is an honor student with a bright future who shouldn’t associate himself with people like MGS. It’s one thing if immature kids don’t see past someone’s behavior but when it’s also adults (let alone educators) who fail to do so, it’s so much worse and often results in a kid losing faith both in themselves and in their futures. Teachers are the people kids trust and expect the most to do the right thing and treat kids without prejudice. As a teacher, that panel broke my heart a little.

What comes to MGS getting angry at Buzzcut after the card incident (ch. 154):

MGS gets angry because Buzzcut accidentally poked at something MGS is very sensitive about. The topic of his father being in prison and how he feels about it goes deep and is something MGS wants to hide from others. So, when outsiders who don’t know anything about his father even mention him, his knee-jerk reaction is to get defensive to protect that emotional sore spot. It wasn’t about MGS having anger issues or lacking discipline but rather about lashing out to hide something vulnerable.

Are you starting to see what I’m talking about when I say his behavior is not about the lack of discipline?

HT as a father figure

Because MGS often breaks the rules and gets in trouble, you proposed HT comes in as a father figure and teaches him his actions have consequences by punishing MGS when he acts up. And to bring his points and “lessons” across he often needs to use force because MGS won’t listen to him otherwise.

This interpretation perked me up, and I find the perspective of seeing HT’s role as someone fatherly very interesting. I have never thought of it quite like that. I both agree and disagree with your interpretation, but it turned out to be somewhat difficult to pinpoint where the line between them goes.

I agree that discipline and HT go very much hand in hand. From the very beginning, he’s made it very clear MGS is not to go against his will or refuse him (ch. 150 and 210):

But I still don’t think it’s quite in the way you described. Because I don’t think MGS lacks discipline I also don’t think that teaching him manners is HT’s reason to “punish” him for acting up. There’s no reason to teach MGS his actions have consequences; he’s known that his whole life and often suffered from it. Instead, there’s a deeper meaning behind HT’s actions and overall interest in MGS, and it’s brought up quite often in his lines (ch. 160 and 180):

HT wants to make MGS into an “outstanding person”. (As a side note, that same phrase is also mentioned by MGS when he’s visiting his father.) He knows what real bad guys look like and sees MGS isn’t one of them. In his heart, MGS is actually honest, caring, hardworking, responsible, and someone who isn’t hungry for power and sneaky about it. He has drifted into gangs and being a delinquent because his environment constantly rejected and badmouthed him, not because he’s a troublemaker by nature. However, if he keeps up his current behavior he’s heading into a dangerous future, and it’s from that doom HT wants to save him.

But of course MGS isn’t about to just follow HT blindly. He’s learned the hard way not to trust people’s actions and words. Over the years, he’s built strong, nearly unbreachable walls around himself, and HT needs both time and effort to get through them. Ultimately, it’s about trust, not discipline. HT isn’t punishing MGS for acting out but trying to pull him away from the cliff MGS has been pushed towards and is about to fall off.

As I said, it’s difficult to say where my interpretation parts from yours because discipline is definitely a part of HT molding MGS into an upstanding person but still...it’s different. It’s as if despite his good goals HT needs to dominate MGS first for his own good to make him listen because MGS doesn’t trust him enough to just follow him. If MGS can’t fight and refuse him, there’s no other direction really. Also, it should not be forgotten that HT thinks MGS having spunk and spice in his character is a good thing even if that means he will fight and resists even HT himself. That means he’s less likely to become anyone’s puppet, has enough pride to not suck up to anyone, and wants to be independent.

What comes to the chapter in which MGS slaps the sandwich offered by HT and HT beats him up for it (ch. 222):

First of all, 19 Days is known for having that kind slapstick humor, and I think HT kneeing MGS until he accepted the sandwich was an example of that. Secondly, I don’t think it was a “punishment” for acting out or MGS not knowing what discipline is but rather HT yet again asserting his dominance to make sure MGS keeps following him. Thirdly, it’s important not to forget the context of MGS’s behavior. Earlier in the chapter, he had gotten agitated by Buzzcut asking about girls and love and what was MGS’s type - unbeknown or perhaps not realizing that MGS is awkward and testy about those subjects, especially after HT had started pursuing him. Then he runs into HT and ends up taking out his feelings on him and refusing him in a way that was more serious in tone than his usual reluctant grumpiness.

MGS affecting HT’s behavior

In the end, you say that both HT and MGS have changed each other’s behavior for the better, and I wholeheartedly agree. However, I don’t think HT has ever thought that being rich and popular entitles him to have things done his way and others bowing down to him. Actually, I think it’s that very way of thinking HT wants to get away from and despises. It’s precisely the money and the influence that comes with it that has driven a fundamental wedge between him and his family, to begin with.

Now, that being said, I’m not trying to make it sound like HT can’t act selfishly or be ignorant about many things. He certainly can. Being around MGS has exposed him to another kind of way of living and taught him a lot. Also, MGS resisting him every which way has probably taught him the effort and patience that goes into winning someone’s trust. Saving someone isn’t as simple as just swooping them off their feet and feeling good about yourself afterward but actually requires cooperation from the other party as well.

You had many interesting things to say and challenged my thinking in many ways! I hope I managed to cover everything you said. The cores of our ways of looking at things differ from each other, so it was a challenge to structure my answer and make sure I don’t miss anything. If you think I overlooked something or you have something to add/comment, please go ahead.

In any case, thank you for your interesting question and patience!

#19 days #mo guan shan #He Tian #tianshan #answered ask

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nvzblgrrl · 4 years

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On the subject of old fics 1

Allegedly, A Gentleman’s Tale (published 1-6-2012) was my first fanfic ever (again, allegedly - will explain after a bit). It only exists now as a private copy at least one person has saved and a capture on the WayBackMachine (which thankfully covered the whole ten chapters of it), because I have a habit of... deleting stories that embarrass me after the fact. It’s something I’m trying to break myself of, mostly because there are a number of people who do enjoy my work even if most of what I see in it are the flaws and I would feel bad about taking away something they enjoyed.

The ‘allegedly’ part comes in in that, based on my memories of my One Piece OCs and stories (along with more concrete evidence from my tumblr), I had a few OCs with snippets of story (with one who had at least a few chapters worth of story that I have memorized in broad strokes) attached that preceded that by at least one or two years, even though the description of ‘my first fic’ was in the synopsis of the fic as it was posted. Unfortunately, it’s hard to trace that information thanks to the ‘destroy all the evidence of me embarrassing myself’ habit (I completely deactivated my deviantart account on account of ‘cringe’, that’s how bad it got) and the passage of time making it unclear which mutuals might have been around at that time or if they even remember those things.

Now, I still have the computers that I typed up those stories on (they’re hanging out in my basement), but - they haven’t worked in quite a while. I’m not sure if they’re completely bricked or not, but I haven’t had anything to do with them for a while and I know that at least one of them was replaced because it refused to turn on anymore. Someday, I might get the chance to pull out their hard-drives and get a look at the data there, but that’s not a ‘now’ solution so...

Anyway - got a bit distracted there -, thanks to the power of the WayBackMachine, I was able to reread this specific fic in its entirety.

‘A Gentleman’s Tale’ was a little thing that was pretty much Brook backstory wrapped up in the framing device of Luffy wanting a story to help him get to sleep. I was 18, had maybe a year or two of creative writing experience/interest under my belt, and a whole lot of Soul King Stan energy to spend on my favorite character despite being at the tail end of my high school career.

Surprisingly, it was not entirely awful for an alleged ‘first attempt’. The formatting was a little eh, the pacing was borked, and a lot of characters were fairly flat (and a few leaned too hard on certain stereotypes while a lot had Western order names for some reason), but other than that, it was actually palatable. Ten chapters, about 8000 words, not a whole lot to write home about or find objectionable outside of the odd grammatical error and the fact that alcohol is mentioned in almost. every. single. chapter.

Seriously, I have no idea why that was a thing for me 2012-2013ish (it ended up in Witt and Witticism a little bit - more heavily on the rewrites that never took off back in the day but a little present in the original too). I was 18-19. I’d never had alcohol. I still haven’t had alcohol. I’d never really been around drinking at that age, socially or not, beyond like, enjoying brew fries and eating chicken tenders at a bar one time because my shit father wanted to have lunch there for some reason. I just guess that I woke up at the start of 2012 and thought Drink Mixing and Booze were interesting things.

The story wasn’t much to write home about, but the characters are the real area of interest here, so let’s cover them and a few of my plans for handling them in the rewrite.

Brook - Starts out his backstory being seasick, gets to have five decent minutes when he meets Yorki, and then is immediately shoved into the wall-to-wall shitshow that’s his life as the battle convoy captain and resident responsible adult, despite 70% of the convoy being at least ten to fifteen years older than him. Somehow that makes his interest in getting black out drunk almost every single night sound reasonable. Seriously, that’s what he was doing in that story, according to what happened almost every other chapter of the fic (because pacing is for writers on their third or fourth story). That’s one reason why the timeline is being stretched out in the rewrite plans - so we don’t kill the main character through alcohol poisoning (though with the kind of stress he was under in that original cut, I can’t blame him for trying - he got saddled with three weird + constantly fighting teenagers and a dying military organization, snubbed by the king, publicly embarrassed in front of 90% of the kingdom’s nobility, and so on in the course of two to three days max). Honestly, in retrospect, I’m not sure how well this plays with the framing device of Brook relating his backstory 62 years later, because he should have lost so many brain cells to this nonsense.

Yorki - Starts his introduction by saying ‘hey, my name’s Yorki, i’m close, bi, and willing to take you on a whirlwind adventure literally two seconds after meeting you’ which Brook immediately responds to as the best thing that’s happened to him in the last (and probably next) month. Probably the only person in Brook’s life as of the fic not stressing him out or enabling his self-destructive coping habits, though that doesn’t stop him from being one of the better things Brook woke up to after one of his blackout drinking nights. Also got an incredibly shitty nickname thanks to me not knowing how that sort of thing works from his mom. In the rewrite, he’s from Ohio (because I and my Middle-Ground lingering Self-Insert are from Michigan and the opportunity for a struggle between ‘hey we’ve both being isekai’d into this weird place and have similar backgrounds/music tastes so we’re going to hang together based on that’ and ‘200 year old inter-state hatred turned into over the top sports rivalry and disliking the other state on principle’ was too good to pass up).

Luchere Gregg (Gregg being her surname) - junior member of the battle convoy. Incredibly thorny and violent personality, with very little respect for authority (outside of her father, probably) and a generally superior attitude towards literally everyone except her father, especially when she perceived someone as being weak and ‘uppity’ at the same time - Maysure was the main target of this (as was intended at the time of the writing), but considering that Luchere was taking a similar tone with Brook (which was probably intended to be for different reasons, but honestly reads very similarly almost ten years on, given that Brook’s everything is very much not in line with her ideal anything) but not Hana (who was ‘weak’ but definitely not trying to mess with Luchere’s preferred social order), I think I can get more development out of her in that dimension. Her everything was probably was cool and badass back when I was 18, but now she just strikes me as petulant and unpleasant brat.

Minalee Hana - Generic smart guy of the junior team, complete with ‘shy’ personality and ‘harmless cute’ look... which, in retrospect, makes it really confusing why she’d join a military force in the first place and just raises suspicions on the fact that she did. Honestly she could be a Government plant and I wouldn’t be surprised. Another ‘problem’ with Hana is that she was based on someone I was friends with at the time I wrote the fic, which kinda ended up helping me dislike her a lot on more recent rereads, just because of the nature of that real world ‘friendship’ and the way it blew up in the end (with a whole lot of ugly reveals along the way that went back to pretty much when I first met that person).

Maysure Semenov Tara Su-all Evony Taebory Celeste - was originally a parody of the Mary Sue archetype, as you may have guessed from the name. Flashy, overeager, desperate for acknowledgement, and not quite managing to act in ways appropriate to her age (15, directly stated in text), either being too cutesy with her speech pattern and body language or dressing in ways that would be suited for a very different profession than soldier. I ended up liking her the most out of the junior trio out on my most recent rereads, just because she’s the only member of the group that’s actually making an effort at anything (well, beyond Luchere being hostile + trying to make Brook leave), doesn’t go out of her way to be hostile or destructive, and isn’t vaguely there in a way that makes me suspicious. Apparently was the only one of the junior trio ever stated to have weapons training (with Luchere being an unarmed fighter and Hana... just being there) and was apparently dedicated enough to it to have the schedule for the different training drills memorized.

Captain Gregg - the former captain of the battle convoy. He was never seen, only ever referenced in the fic. Based on the content, he was pretty much Luchere 1.0 - crass, unpleasant, violent, and without a lot of tolerance for those that couldn’t deal with or keep up with the unfortunate matter of his everything. The notes on rewrite so far have him becoming a lot more pleasant and lot less generally awful person, though still a bit of a roughneck and unpleasant to be around if you aren’t cut from the same cloth or a similar weave. Was not inspired by Captain Clegg until I started imbibing pop culture in preparation for the various parts of the project.

Jeevenine - quartermaster of the battle convoy, bartender, and carrier of heavy butler vibes, which feels like it might have been intentional. Said to be a master of ‘improvisation combat’ but honestly seems to be the person most likely to have taught Brook his style of fencing (based on his speed and precision being noted as something Brook had difficulty keeping up with in text) and his gentlemanly ways, considering every other character I wrote into the convoy is some flavor of hot mess and either a bruiser or a gunman. Still loses points for enabling Brook’s blackout drinking habits and being passive-aggressive instead of properly helpful.

Jack Rackum and John Delacroix - sniper-spotter pair, as indicated by their nicknames of ‘Windward’ and ‘Leeward’ respectively. Highly implied to be in a long-standing romantic relationship with each other or at least in a long-term holding pattern of pining. Delacroix’s tendency to sleep in the nude is used as half of a ‘my eyes’ joke that Brook is the victim of (the other half is Maysure’s chosen nightclothes being both stereotypical of a ‘Mary Sue’ and vastly age inappropriate, which is a running gag with her). Rackum gets the most description out of the set, with his brown leather hat and green-grey hair being mentioned, along with his taste for fruity cocktails (he might also be an alcoholic, which isn’t really all that remarkable in this fic).

Kurotora Ren - Big Guy McHugeBeef. Also the guy responsible for keeping the battle convoy awash in homebrew booze. Almost kills Brook by accident during his introduction by clapping him on the back at the exact wrong moment. Doesn’t have a lot more detail than that, mostly because he slides into the background after that brief focus moment, but I like him for being genuinely sorry about the near-death thing on top of being friendly for real and not being duplicitous about his wants + thoughts.

Zest - noble. Stupid. Probably the closest thing that Brook has to a friend in his actual age range at the start of the story, which is really fucking sad considering Zest’s everything and the fact that Brook doesn’t enjoy his company at all. Somehow when I was 18, the idea of a guy who spent most of his time in some state of wasted and trying to get his ‘friend’ (who doesn’t even like him that much but seems to tolerate him more than literally everyone else Zest ever interacted with who wasn’t being paid) into a similar condition because of unrequited love or something was tragi-cute-slash-funny instead of pathetic and faintly disturbing (though I guess I might end up writing him as tragic again anyway just because it probably takes Some Shit to make a person like that). Spent 90% of his screen time in the old story making Brook’s life inconvenient and the remaining 10% fully aware that his own life is going nowhere. His personality is oddly similar to Maysure’s, which is... interesting, implications-wise. Holy Shit, is this guy going to be a trip to work with as an adult.

#the big fat one piece fic project #talking about old fic #a gentleman's tale #my writing #if you have any questions about this or other fic i've done feel free to fire away

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sadisim · 5 years

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Coming full circle: 2 years later

I want to start off this post by saying that this is no tea, shade, drama, subpost or whatever other name you want to find for this. This is my most sincere and last message that I will post on my blog. This is why I want to apologize in advance for the ridiculous length of this and I want every reader to be considerate, understanding, open and as objective as they possibly can in this matter.

I will not tolerate any hate sent towards me or the person I am about to mention nor any curious anons asking to “spill the tea” or anything of that nature. If you have any questions my inbox is always open and you are free to directly message me to discuss further. ^_^ /)

Now that we got that out of the way... I will tell you all a little story about my relationship with Frankie (gruesim or simplyimaginarypeople, however you want to call her)

If any of y’all simblr veterans know me for a long time, you surely know I’ve been here for about 6 years or so. I joined this website when I was around 13 years of age, and naturally as any 13 year old I immediately looked up to people who were more talented than me. One of those very people was Frankie herself. I respected her highly, admired her for all her hard work, discipline, talent for meshing from the very beginning and I am extremely thankful to her for all the help she has offered me throughout the years.

I wanted to be like her. I wanted to mesh and have something to give to Simblr. I wanted to become popular and cool and constantly compared myself to her. Like any teenager would when they admire someone older than them.

You can imagine I grew up with time and I became less and less of a child, maturing and forming my own opinions etc. But I was still pretty gullible and easy to fool back then. So I blindly trusted Frankie and supported her in everything she did, no matter what other people around me were telling me about her. Above all I considered her a friend. A very close one that is. But I am never sure what she considered me to be. I don’t blame her though, I was pretty stupid and annoying when she knew me back then so I don’t mind it at all. However I wish that she had explicitly told me instead. I was always supportive and I remember all of our chats ran dry most of the time with me constantly asking her how she’s doing, admiring and supporting her and her being very distant and cold. I remember at some point she mentioned she cares for me as a friend but I felt like at the time that she didn’t truly mean it. I never knew if she were like this just with me or if she was like that with everyone. But she was absolutely impossible to approach on my end. At least that’s what a teenager me thought at that time. I can be completely wrong about this. And that’s fine.

Growing up more and more I came to terms with the fact that maybe she just disliked me for some reason I didn’t know. Maybe I was too young for her to be friends with, maybe we had a communication barrier of sorts. So I slowly drifted away…running from my problems instead of confronting her.

That was my biggest mistake and fault.

I wish I had the power then that I have now, to confront people directly and tell them how I feel with no filters or sugarcoating.

But back then sugarcoating was the safest form of escape for me. There is nothing sweeter than pretending everything is okay when it isn’t, just to get away from an uncomfortable situation. All of y’all socially anxious people definitely know what I mean by this.

Sugarcoating was my second and most fatal mistake of all within our relationship.

I fully assume my wrongdoings and past mistakes and I want to let you know that I have realized what I did not do right back then. If I could turn back time I would do something entirely different, but that’s not possible. We learn from our past, don’t we? That’s what I’ve been slowly doing in the past few years. ^_^

My falling out with Frankie happened around two years ago. I had started a Patreon for my writing combined with some sims ( pose making, skin making etc )She was clearly not happy about it. She was one of the first people who disagreed with me on it. I appreciated her input and never told her that it bothered me so that she didn’t think that I was “one of those people” who ask for money for content so I just sugarcoated everything as I always did. I remember her saying that she “is not a fan of Patreon as long as it’s not against EA” which I 100% agree with, I never intended to lock cc behind a paywall. I would just release stuff later on, probably in 2-3 weeks’ time. However I remember very clearly that she stated how “it would be still exclusive and that it’s no longer a donation instead it’s buying”

I really didn’t like that she was saying those things to me, I remember feeling disappointed. So because I didn’t want to anger her because I really looked up to her and I feared we might fight, I took down my Patreon and got a Ko-fi instead. I’m extremely thankful to everyone who donated, it’s helped me lots! She seemed to be happy about Ko-fi and i was happy i could please her and solve the problem. I never knew why she hated Patreon so much, to me Ko fi was exactly identical to Patreon. Just another name for donations.

This was the first time that Frankie’s shot a bullet in the way I viewed her. At that time she was starting to gain a lot of influence in the community because of her hard work and dedication and she was leading a very public campaign against Patreon. She’s said some things back then which heavily contrast her current views on Patreon, donations or cc locked behind a temporary wall.

She’s said multiple times, publicly and privately how she “hates everything exclusive” but as years passed by I sometimes saw her on my dashboard, despite not following her on tumblr. I couldn’t help but notice how she seemed to me that she helps those very close to her only and seems to not bat an eye about patreon/timed exclusive content to some people I’ve seen interacting with her– Listen, I know that this might come across as harsh or salty but I mentioned before that I don’t think she’s seen me as a friend. I was not part of her inner circle, nor did we have very deep talks about many things in particular. It just really hurt me to see this happening, while behind closed doors, two years ago she’d bashed me for wanting to make a patreon instead of just asking for donations (it was the same exact thing to me…)

While this subject is still up I’d like to mention the drama that took place a bit earlier this month. The whole hair thing. I have very hardly abstained from saying anything or intervening within the drama because i have biased opinions about her based on my past experience with her. So I didn’t want to come across as harsh, rude or disrespectful to her because of my feelings towards her and didn’t want to portray her in a biased light. The people who know, know what my opinion on the whole drama was. It’s unnecessary to tell you what I think about it since it’s no longer around. But I’d just want to say that for me it felt like all of her constant contradictions were falling apart and truth was starting to get to the surface. I felt like this situation was going to teach her a lesson, and I surely hope she’s learned. She’s not a horrible person. She’s never had malicious intent. I just think that she never really knew quite well how to handle social situations. This isn’t the first time Frankie’s taken a break from simblr.

Perhaps her views have changed over the past few years. I know mine did a lot, so I don’t blame her if she no longer believes in the things she’s said before. People change all the time for the better or worse and it’s not something unusual. My problem here is that she’s never quite explained why she’s changed her opinions, nor did she justify her behaviour towards me at the time and other people involved who had the same experience with her. I just sort of wish that we had gotten some sort of apology, or an explanation from her after a while…anything would have made us happy. But she never did, so we moved on and kept on ignoring her, praying that we don’t ever have to interact again while watching her from afar doing things that were sort of questionable and didn’t rub us in the right way at all. But I kept silent because people support and love her, and I didn’t want to stir drama. It would have meant setting a hornet’s nest on fire and jumping right into it. Which is why I’ve never gone public about this in the first place. I just wanted to make sure that the heat of the drama was gone before i posted this. I felt like it would have been unfair to her to ‘attack’ her with this during the whole thing.

The next time that I started getting off vibes from her was the whole Simscord thing. She joined us, I remember that clearly, she’d post in the sims 3 channel now and then but she would most of the time be in the help channel. She’d never ignore anyone and seemed to become some helper that everyone’s seen her as. So everyone went to her for help, which is what she’s always done for the community: help. It’s not easy work to help others solve their problems, which is why I respect her for it. However I don’t understand why she’s left Simscord and then proceeded to tell me she was ‘constantly ignored’ and ‘only seen as a helper’ by others. And then she proceeded to turn her blog into a help blog for every single question that every single anon needed but NEVER complained about how ignored she is or how she’s only seen as a helper then. She’s sort of criticised Simscord on multiple times before, very passively aggressively with comments like “Why does Simscord have exclusive tutorials? Isn’t that sucky for the people who don’t like joining public chats ?” I eventually posted all the ‘exclusive tutorials’ a bit later that i wrote for Simscord onto my blog. they are still up and you can find them. This did not really make me happy when the whole SSFF thing started taking off and she did not admit that she was blocking access to cc from people who were too socially anxious to do any of the challenges. But we’ll get to that later. That’s just one of the things I can remember … again I’m saying this once more: she might have changed her view since then so I don’t blame her if she thinks differently. I just blame her past self for the way she’s acted in the whole thing. That’s all. It seemed to me that she’s never quite liked Simscord in the first place and kept trying to find ways to dismiss its usefulness. It’s always brought me down because us, the admins, were doing our best to keep Simscord alive, equal and fun to everyone whether they liked talking with us there or not. It felt like a blow to my self-esteem for the time and effort I’d put into Simscord as an admin. I know very well it’s not perfect and it can’t be. Admins are humans just like everyone. We can’t force people to act a certain way just because we want to.

The next time we had a conflict it was “fatal” for your relationship. It was when we parted ways completely and haven’t spoken directly since. Here is where my biggest fault comes in: not confronting her and being straightforward about how she made me feel. She was angry with me because “I’d changed”. I was apparently “a different person” because I was starting to be myself more on my blog, stopping to sugarcoat things so much…I was trying my best to get out of my childish shell of agreeing with everyone just to avoid conflict and duck confrontation with people when we couldn’t agree. I remember receiving an anonymous message around that time from someone who told me that “I changed” . I was very saddened by the message, I remember I actually cried when I received it. I did not understand why that anonymous person saw me as ‘changed’. I was just being myself and trying to grow and shape and break free from the cute, innocent angel persona that I had created for myself. Sorta like Miley when she had that crazy post Disney phase lol. Im joking now but it’s for real. Then I connected that anon message to her and I am still suspecting today that it might have been her, or someone from her inner circle but then again i could be wrong about this. She had also told me clearly how she “talked to other people who confirmed my change.” I never knew who these people were. Why were they talking behind my back? Why were they not directly telling me into my face that “I changed” if they knew me so well? I highly doubt they knew me at all. Or perhaps there were no “other people”. Perhaps she had made that up just to add to her argument. I’ll never know.

I supported her in the whole drama with The Together Store because I was still admiring her for her work and passion and I still refused to see the doubtful things that people were accusing her of doing. I remember very clearly how I messaged her when she announced her hiatus, supporting her and telling her I’m there for her, not even willing to listen to The Together Store’s side of the story (If any of you guys are reading this please reach out to me, I can’t remember your urls. I’d like to apologize personally!) and she just told me that she doesn’t need my support, she’s not bullied and she doesn’t need help. That put a knife in my chest. I know she was just being angry in that moment. She eventually apologized for her harsh words but I never told her how they made me feel then. Another mistake on my end. I kept adding and adding to the idea of supporting her and she simply said that “she needs people to change the way they act”. I kept adding fuel to the conversation but it went nowhere. In one of the last messages from her I remember she explicitly told me that “It’s attitudes like mine that made her leave” and after that I could take no more blows. I knew then deep down my heart that I did not like her attitude but I decided to simply be nice, continue to wrongly sugarcoat the words I wanted to tell her, block her and move on. She was constantly adding in how she saw me as some sort of… Simblr Leader? I never understood what she meant by that. Never. “I don't respect the way you are handling your position as a community leader. Its been super sad to watch such a kind and sweet person get influenced by all this and I wish it were different” - This is a direct quote from her. I have yet to understand what this all means today. I don’t know what “Influenced by all” means. I have no idea where she got the idea that I am or was a community leader by any means. Surely, I used to have much more influence two years ago. I had thousands of followers, talked to hundreds of people. But I was not a leader. I surely didn’t consider myself that way nor ever said i am one.

I know I handled the situation terribly. Yet again I take complete responsibility for my mistakes and I wish I could gather the courage to reach out to her instead. But we parted ways, by agreeing to disagree and moved on with our lives. I’ve been avoiding her from my dash actively by blocking her username and just stayed away as much as possible. I thought about it many times, to message her…to reach out and talk and be open about my mistakes. But I’ve always gotten a bit anxious the way she might understand this and respond. I know she’s had a distant tone when talking to me before and i did not want to get anxious. So i just hoped i’d get the chance to talk about this someday.

So in the years that came after that I watched her expand, grow and shape her simblr, her projects. She started becoming the very thing that she swore to destroy (very poetic but im making a reference to that one meme. Yall edgelords know what im talkin about). There was SimblrSimplyForFun that pissed me off with the idea of exclusivity that she was so aggressive towards me about but she ended up doing herself- i remember people talking about how they don’t like the idea of challenges and interacting with others just to get ‘a treat’. She was even sent anonymous questions about this very matter: what are socially anxious people going to do? We can’t just interact with others like normal people. I don’t remember her exact response but I think it was something that brushed off the anon. Then came the drama with the hairs. It was the last drop for me. I wanted to let it all go. It’s been awful to hold this in for so long. She took it upon herself to change an entire community by implementing all these projects, which in idea are super fun and cool and really help connect people, but she was doing all the work by herself and kept on burdening herself with every challenge and piece of cc released. She had hundreds and hundreds of projects, videos, tutorials and cc released in the span of two years that were monstrously over encumbering her with so much responsibility to “change simblr” that she got swallowed in this dark pit of becoming a vessel for change and it ended up overwhelming her to the point where she left. That’s just how I see things from the outside. It doesn’t mean I’m right and you can contradict me on this, I’d gladly listen. She’s done so much for us all, a help that nobody else was willing to give and I am thankful for all her dedication and time spent doing these things. But reading her goodbye message made me realize how she’s seen Simblr more as a job than anything else. She was becoming the “leader” she was trying to enforce on me but it was no easy job. To me Simblr is fun, it’s a hobby. It’s somewhere I come to see creativity and catch up with old mutuals. Nothing more than that. If i can help people i definitely will, if it’s within my knowledge and free time. I don’t want my kindness/selflessness be seen as some sort of sacrifice i make as a “leader of the community”. That’s just my opinion. I feel like she really deserved a break and some time away to clear up her mind, relax and think. I hope she finds the peace she seeks!

I have stayed put form talking about this. As soon as the whole drama with the hairs got out I knew it was gonna be a big blow on her blog. I just didn’t want to add fuel to the fire and that’s why I am posting this only now.. I just wanted to tell my story that I kept in for two long years and that I’ve struggled to come to terms with until now.

If you’re reading this Frankie, I’m sorry about the mistakes I made and that I didn’t tell you how I truly felt. It’s probably late, but it’s never too late to apologize for my behavior.

I understand people might not agree with me or my side of the story, that’s totally fine. I just wanted to clear things up because I have many people here I talk to that have asked me before why I don’t interact with Frankie or avoid her. I hope that this explanation is everything you need to clear things up ^_^ Anyone who I’ve personally hurt, attacked or wronged is free to unfollow me or block me away, that is totally fine and acceptable, or perhaps if you want to talk about things I’m always here to listen and discuss.

Ever since this thing happened it’s left me pretty bitter about making new friends here. Which is why I’ve just set a limit to myself to just remain ‘mutuals’ with many people and nothing more or less. It’s why I’ve been colder and colder with every year and refused to do many collabs or ships or whatever. I just have matured and grew up and I do not have much time anymore for any of these things. My IRL is full of problems that I am not willing to discuss here because they don’t concern anyone. I’ve come here just to tell my story and that’s the last personal post I’ll probably ever make on my blog.

Thankyou all for reading this extremely long post and bearing with me!

#nonsims #personal

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shadowofthelamp · 5 years

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I’ve been meaning to write this for a few weeks, but haven’t really had the chance, and figure I might as well do it now. Writing out things about how and why I relate to/like characters is something that’s always helped me when creating my own projects, both character-based fanfiction and original stuff because it shakes out what appeals to me and why.

Anyways, this is a specific analysis of why IZ matters to me, a lot. Strap in y’all, you’re getting context. 1500 words of it. Warnings for uh.... bullying, mental illness, that whole shebang. If you could like if you read I’d appreciate it.

It’s a bit difficult to detangle exactly how you felt years ago, especially when you had undiagnosed mental illness at the time. The concrete details are this: I found IZ when I was about 11/12 years old, because some kids in my class wore Gir shirts a lot. (Thanks, guys, for being polite and explaining it to me when I asked about them!)

Something about it just clicked. The only fandom I’d been involved in before that point was Sonic, and then, it was pretty one-sided: I would consume content, but only occasionally made any of my own, and I never talked to anyone. It mattered to me sure, probably almost as much as IZ did, but for different reasons that aren’t really relevant here.

To set the scene: I was 12, bullied, depressed because of said being bullied, anxious for the same reason, and the only friends I had were all just the losers nobody else would talk to. One regularly physically pushed me around and bit me and I took it because everyone else thought I was a weirdo freak, and the other two were mostly just her friends and tolerated me. (Sidenote: Turns out she had mental stuff of her own, but geez, she needed to be helped because it was never a secret she was hurting me.)

Teachers were somewhat torn on me most of the time, because I was clearly very smart and participated in class often, but had a trigger temper that other students used to bully me, and often the teacher’s response was to blame both of us if someone riled me up to the point of snapping back. I still have problems with trusting any authority figures with any problems because of this.

I was also taught to not trust people who are being nice to me, because again, I was desperate for social interaction that wasn’t Bitey the One Friend, and that was used to pretend to compliment or talk to me and then laugh behind my back about it. I’m still seriously working through this one. I probably should talk to someone about it, honestly.

So, uh. Yeah, with that as a guideline, it’s not really a surprise I latched on to IZ. Dib was the smart yet neurotic one that was desperate to prove himself to adults that never listened, and Zim was loud and aggressive and everyone seemed to hate him even as he stumbled through everything, never really realizing just how broken he was. I’d never seen characters like that before, and I especially related to Dib.

The setting also was something I hadn’t really seen before, and it got to me in a way I can’t fully explain. It was dirty and angry and stupid and sad and felt the way I did. This was how the world came across to me at the time, as something broken and unfair, with everyone in power either willfully ignoring me yelling that something was wrong, that either everything around me was broken or I was.

I joke constantly about Dib’s Birthday, the first IZ fic I ever wrote. I’m probably never going to reread it and it’s going to rot unfinished on ffnet until the servers crash, but I found a doc where I went through the first two chapters before dying of Old Writing-Itis, and... honestly, from what I do remember? It was using the characters specifically to work through this stuff that I didn’t have any other outlet for at the time. I had a brother who knew/cared so little about me that years later he told me he never knew I ever had any problems despite the fact that I was by 14, before I started getting meds and therapy, somewhat suicidal. (The bullying had eased as I’d forced myself to blend into the background and no one cared about me anymore, but the ‘no friends and depression’ hadn’t.)

And this is where we get to the shipping stuff. ‘The world is terrible and our brains are fucked and kinda broken but at least I have you, someone who understands me’ honest to god was a lifeline at that point to me, and I don’t think anything else could have delivered it quite like Za/Dr did. I don’t doubt a lot of the fics were people channeling stuff, same way I was. I’ve noticed that, much like Yugioh, this is a fandom with a lot of people that have Stuff Going On they put in, because mental illness is a theme in the show, as little as it’s thoughtfully explored. Sort of a ‘well, we’ve got the blocks, let’s take it and use it to build our own catharsis.’

I’ve also noticed I tend to keep them the age I am- when I was about 13, they were show-aged. The one I found from when I was 14, I made Dib 14/15. And I’ve expressed I kind of regret not making Dib in AiP match my age now- 20, going on 21.

I feel like I’m exaggerating a little, and maybe I am since this is my experiences told through the funhouse mirror of fractured memory, but I also talked to myself. Like, a fair amount. Out loud. I could go entire days without talking to any other students unless I was forced to, because no one would ever talk to me first or respond if I tried, so I was sort of in a ‘why even bother?’ mode by freshman year. Everyone knew me, and already was afraid of or weirded out by me because of how often I was in and out of the principal’s office.

(The biggest chunk of the bullying, besides name-calling and the other typical stuff, was riling me up and then getting me in trouble for snapping back. It was the same people over and over, so it took less and less to get me angry over time, so by fourth or fifth grade I was going off over seemingly nothing, but really, it was just piling a bunch of sticks on top of every other thing that had already been hurled at me, so I looked like rigged dynamite but they never looked who was lighting the matches.)

JTHM was pretty important to me for similar reasons as IZ, although that was more catharsis, the idea of just being able to get rid of people who were hurting me. I’ve said before the ‘I wish someone would just turn me off and... fix me’ panel was another one of those ‘holy shit someone else knows this feeling’ moments.

Things finally started turning around for me at about 15 when I just broke down crying at a family event and my mom pulled me aside and I was sent to therapy and got medication. Long story short, it worked, and I’m mostly better on the depression front.

Bringing this back around to IZ, it’s been kind of incredible to come back and have the fandom be- well, honestly, I can’t ever remember it being this active. I was terrified to interact directly in a way that wasn’t reading things and pushing my own content out into the void, not talking to anyone one on one. By 13, I was better about it, and soon before 14 was when I made my tumblr and started actually talking to people. I recently stumbled across age discourse from that time through tumblr’s ‘more posts like this’ function and it kind of surprised me, but I guess it’s always been there.

I’ve said before that when I remove the rose-colored glasses, my experiences weren’t always great. FC hate was something that kept me from making ocs until just a few years ago, and shipping hate was often homophobia-related. But death threats and shit were not as common, nor was the rigid 'if you like this you’re a terrible person’.

I’m just gonna end this with saying yeah, without this series I may not have had the feeling of being genuinely understood or the outlet I needed for a bunch of shit going on at the time, so IZ is really really important to me and people who shit on a ship that helped me a lot because of something that the creator said nearly 20 years after the fact can eat my ass.

#this ends kinda ship discourse related but uh #yeah #iz blogging #iz

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kmp78 · 5 years

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DISCLAIMER AND RULES

These are the UPDATED directions/guidelines for all who want to participate/contribute to this blog. Our topics of conversation revolve mostly around 30 Seconds to Mars/the Leto Bros, but we have been known to also discuss various other current events around the world.

By reading, and especially by contributing, on what goes on around this blog, you are willingly agreeing with all guidelines and directions I have mentioned below - no exceptions.

I am willing to give a space to those who wish to discuss Mars (or other topics), and I am washing my hands from any and all fuckery that may ensue from other people´s opinions.

Also worth mentioning: I am fully aware that some people who publicly and very vocally denounce any interest in either this blog or Mars gossip lurk around this blog and then spread shit elsewhere on the internet.

By doing that, you are essentially outing yourself as a quiet kmp78 admirer, so to speak.

Or a fangirl, if that suits better. 🤗

Alright then... READ.

1. This blog is laced with sarcasm, jokes, stupid and often very dark humor and PERSONAL OPINIONS - both mine and the people who participate in our conversations. This is not CNN, BBC or even Fox News - this is a personal blog run by a (sort of) fan. Not someone with inside information, and not someone whose opinions and views should be taken too seriously, and definitely not as gospel. I have no direct access to anyone in the Mars organization, and I do not work for them.

2. Nor do I work for YOU. This may be a blog which is mainly used for discussions about all things Mars and all opinions and topics are welcome, but the only one in charge is ME. I decide if a message gets published, if a message gets edited, if a message gets deleted - and if the sender gets blocked.

And not that it really needs to be said, but here goes anyway: I do not work for any Leto troll either.

3. And speaking of blocking:

those who send threats or offensive messages will be blocked, as will anyone who I deem block-worthy. Rest assured, I never block anyone without a reason, so if you should discover that you have been blocked, that means I had a reason. I may or may not inform publicly when a person has been blocked, depends on my mood.

4. Everyone who sends messages is responsible for their own words - I do not accept any blame for other people´s opinions. Misunderstandings by accident or on purpose are not my headache. If I suspect a message will potentially cause unnecessary problems or annoyance for me, I will not post it (or will edit it), and I don´t owe anyone any explanations as to why I´m not posting it. I may explain, or not - that´s up for me to decide.

In any case, as I said: I will not take responsibility for anyone else´s words other than mine, and screaming at me over here or elsewhere online regarding comments someone else made and I posted...

Well, that´s just infantile. 🙄

5. All opinions are welcome, positive AND negative. A positive opinion does not automatically make you a sheep, and a negative opinion does not automatically make you a hater.

Readers to this blog should be adult enough to handle both sides.

6. Calling women sluts or whores is not ok here.

You also need to be able to tell the difference between calling a woman a whore and calling a Leto a whore. If you can´t understand the difference, then get out immediately.

SPECIAL CLAUSE:

the term “YACHT GIRL” when used in connection with an actually legit model who YOU ARE JEALOUS OF BECAUSE SHE GETS TO BONE A MAN YOUR FLABBY LOINS BURN FOR, actually is the equivalent of you calling her a whore, so kindly DO NOT.

Use whatever brain cells your parents genes bestowed upon you and make them at least somewhat proud. That should hopefully partially make up for the disappointment they most probably are already feeling knowing you actually read and participate in this shit.

7. What is also not ok is accusing people of crimes, calling them psychopaths, or threatening others with physical violence etc. - not even sarcastically or as jokes.

Think of it this way:

when typing your message, if at any point you think that what you are writing might come across differently or more seriously to the person reading it than to you while writing it - then do not write it. Any innuendo about people´s potential “social diseases” is not welcome either, and neither are accusations of “obsessions” and people “stalking” the men this blog is focused on. Be VERY careful when using these terms.

YOU are responsible for your own words. I cannot stress that enough.📣

8. We use a lot of initials and nicknames in our conversations - for a reason.

Do not use people´s real names in messages.

If you do not know who a particular person is, please come ask via chat (directions on how to use the chat feature can be found here). I may or may not blur out a name in a message if I think it´s necessary.

9. I post a lot of pics, gifs - and most of them are found from Google using various search terms, and sadly have no tags or indications as to who is the owner/maker. I don´t own any of the pics or gifs, or videos for that matter either (except the ones I have made and labeled as my own). If you find something of yours posted and prefer not to have it up or to have your name added as credits, please let me know and I will remove it.

As for links to either newspaper articles, IG accounts, other blogs or the like: you can find credits to the sources by either clicking on the links, or if I have decided to post screen caps, in the pics themselves. Again, I do not write articles or make videos and very, very rarely post anything other than other people´s comments - after all, this is prominently a discussion blog now. Opinions/messages from other people represent THEIR views and thoughts, my views/thoughts can be seen in my answers (in case of submits or multi-part messages, you will find my contributions to the message after this sign: ***).

To make this very clear: we don´t make news here, we discuss them.

10. When sending submits, if you are unsure of others potentially seeing your “ID”, please mention in your message that you want to remain anon and I will post it anon. Also please remember tho that there is no such thing as complete anonymity - so be careful when writing down your thoughts. Censor yourself if necessary - don´t make problems for me or others, or yourself.

11. I use Statcounter on this blog, which means I can see IP addresses from people visiting this site. However I choose to use that information is up to me, so if you are scared shitless of being outed due to your own actions/words, then DO NOT COME HERE.

If I out your IP, then there is a reason for it.

Don´t give me reasons if you want to remain in the shadows.

(And same goes for chat messages btw: don´t pretend to be my friend in private, but then turn your back and stab me in it in public. More often than not I WILL find out, and if I choose to then out your bullshit by posting private messages, THAT´S ALL YOUR OWN DOING, KIDDOS.

Play nice with me and you have nothing to worry about.

Start kicking dirt in my face and...🤷‍♀️

12. If you are addressing your message directly to someone (= other than me), please say so CLEARLY in your message, for example by starting your message with “For anon who said...”, or something along those line. I have had it with misunderstandings and unnecessary messes due to unclear messages! BE SPECIFIC!

13. ONLY write either in English or Finnish. I won´t waste my time on Google Translate, I have enough on my plate as it is and your weirdo mongrel lingos are boring as hell anyway.

14. DO NOT SEND MESSAGES WITH THE SOLE PURPOSE OF STIRRING UP SHIT - OR TO INSULT OTHER COUNTRIES OR NATIONALITIES. That would rank quite high the PATHETIC categories...

15. I won´t post content from so-called private/non-celeb accounts such as Leto trolls (= VK for example IS a celeb so whatever she posts is most deffo getting posted, but anything posted by Lesser´s harem probs won´t be).

16. READ PREVIOUS MESSAGES! READ PREVIOUS MESSAGES! READ PREVIOUS MESSAGES! READ PREVIOUS MESSAGES! READ PREVIOUS MESSAGES!

I´m beyoooooooond bored answering the same questions over and over again, sometimes in the space of just a few hours! The archives and search option are available on my blog for a reason! USE THEM. 😠

17. When sending messages containing info or “receipts” or whatever it may be that you think we should be made aware of, either clearly state WHERE that info can be found and WHO you are talking about. Do not simply send a message a´la “VK can be seen on Monica´s/Richard´s/Beatrice´s IG”. We don´t know who these people are! You may, but we don´t! I do not follow a single model or fashion industry creeper on social media so FIRST NAMES mean fuck all to me. GIVE FULL DETAILS OR SHUT THE FUCK UP.

18. IF I SAY A TOPIC IS OFF-LIMITS, THEN YOU WILL RESPECT THAT.

19. I usually try to post messages in the same order they have been sent - with a few exceptions:

If a situation arises which calls for “immediate attention” (new troll pics or other sudden Mars-related activity, for example), I may leave older messages for later and focus on newer ones first. Also when I am operating on my mobile, I am often unable to post certain messages (videos etc.), so those will be left for later when I am back to an actual computer.

20. More often than not, tumblr fails to deliver messages to my inbox. If you suspect that yours has not been delivered, please send it again. I don´t mind getting duplicates.

21. If I feel that a message offers no relevant or needed content, I won´t post it. For example, a message such as “JL & XX in Japan bang bang” is unnecessary and pointless and not worth posting. I only have 250 allowed posts per day, and on busy days I have to make judgments on what is worthy of posting and what is not. I apologize if I therefore have to skip some messages.

When I run out of allowed posts here, I will let everyone know that I am switching over to use the secondary blog which can be found at @kmp78secondaryblog

(PLEASE NOTE: That blog is ONLY used when we run out of room here, and I never go there unless I have to so please don´t send any messages to that blog unless I inform we have to move there!)

AND FINALLY PLEASE REMEMBER:

THIS IS A FANDOM FOR A BAND. NOT A MATTER OF LIFE AND DEATH. ACT ACCORDINGLY.

Creating hater accounts dedicated to POSTING PICTURES OF MY BLOODY EYEBALL (that btw actually happened because of course it did! This is the echeLOOOOOON after all! 👍) won´t make me quit this blog, so...

Yeah.

Anyway, for further information, please contact me via private message here, on my IGs, or at [email protected].

Thank you. 🙏

PS: In case you run into accounts/comments made under my tumblr “identity”, or otherwise unauthorized “kmp78″ activity outside of tumblr which you recognize as being linked to this blog in any way (such as my posts being tagged with JL´s tags etc.), please report them immediately, both to the admins of the sites you found these accounts on, and to me directly so I can take appropriate action, thanks.

Any of my personal pics taken from this blog have been taken without permission and I have never and will never give permission to post them anywhere. And when I say I “appropriate action”, I mean just that. If need be, I will be contacting the authorities, like I did when I received public death threats.

Be very aware that my tolerance for that is less than zero - and also be aware that these guidelines and my rules may change whenever I feel the need to change them.

#DEAL ✌️

#updated rules #updated regulations #read and learn #think you can?#i don´t have high hopes #dumbfuckchelon

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pengiesama · 6 years

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Dies Caniculares (Fic, Mikleo/Sorey, Fantasy/God AU) (Chapter 3/6)

Title: Dies Caniculares (Chapter 3/6) Series: Tales of Zestiria Pairing: Mikleo/Sorey

Summary: Mikleo dreams of travelling the world, having exciting adventures like his uncle. Unfortunately, he lives a pretty boring life in the tiny mountain village of Camlann. If he’s not working at his family’s temple, he’s having to deal with his mother’s constant attempts to match-make him to every eligible girl in town.

He also happens to be best friends with a god. That god happens to be a dog, who happens to be able to turn into a frustratingly handsome young man. Complications, as they do, inevitably crop up.

CHAPTER THREE:

Mikleo almost has a pleasant date, but is interrupted by a dastardly plot and has to make use of men in black suits and a getaway car. (The last time he was in the city he found a dead body in the water supply, so it's still an improvement.)

(CONTENT WARNING: shapeshifting, eventual mpreg.)

Link: AO3

This is a collaboration between me and @sensenaoya! I’m honored to be allowed to write for their wonderful AU, and even more honored to have their lovely art illustrating it!

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Sorey yawned wide, and settled his muzzle on his paws. He considered himself a morning person – certainly he was in comparison to how grouchy Mikleo was in the mornings, not that gods really needed sleep, normally – but it got lonely and dull waiting for Mikleo to get back from his early morning appointments. It made Sorey want to find a sunbeam to lie down in, and sleep away the hours where he couldn’t see Mikleo’s smiling face.

A warm breeze ruffled Sorey’s feathered coat, like a gentle hand. He sighed at the feeling, and let his eyes drift shut, letting his imagination wander.

He imagined a morning spent with Mikleo at the shrine, lounging on the stairs, feeling the air begin to warm around them, listening to the low sound of chatter from the attendants tending to visiting worshippers. He imagined Mikleo’s hand in his hair, his hand on his cheek, his hand in his own. He imagined not having to hide in his dog form; imagined being able to stand next to Mikleo. He imagined being able to have people look at the two of them, and whisper the same gossip that Sorey sometimes overheard while trotting through town on four legs.

What a pair. A splendid match. Muse must be over the moon. Perhaps we’ll see some little ones around the temple grounds soon.

Sorey had travelled for hundreds of years, alone, without suffering overmuch for the lack of company. He had always loved humans; loved watching them live out their too-short lives, loved watching them grow and learn and make bonds. But, all the same, he always held himself back. He was always the observer; the scholar, studying a culture he couldn’t hope to ever really know. However, that fateful night in his grandfather’s old temple had changed all of that, it seemed. The lonely ache in Sorey’s chest was almost pleasant, in its own way. In Sorey’s more solemn moments, he understood that it was an ache that he would have to learn to cherish. In eighty, ninety years, when Mikleo couldn’t be with him ever again, Sorey would have to face down the wide world alone once more, with memories and the ache to last him a thousand years and then some.

A familiar scent reached Sorey’s nose, and his ears perked up; welcoming the interruption of such melancholy thoughts. Mikleo was back from his morning appointments, and it was Sorey’s (self-appointed) job to greet him. Sorey got up and shook out his coat, and gave brief regard to the feathers that flew loose with the motion. Maybe Mikleo would tut at the sight of his molting coat and insist on brushing him that afternoon. Sorey felt his tail begin to wag, unbidden, at the very thought. He bounded off, tail going and tongue out, to race toward the temple gates.

However, once the gates were in sight, he was greeted with an unsettling sight: Mikleo and Muse, arguing fiercely.

“—this has to stop, mother, all of this has to stop—”

“Oh, does it? And why is that?”

“Because it’s a waste of everyone’s time! None of the matches you’ve talked up so much have lasted more than three months.”

“Because you don’t put in the effort. It takes two!”

“Oh, so it’s all my fault? It couldn’t be because I don’t have anything in common with any of these girls? And it couldn’t be because some of those girls were misinformed by their matchmaker on my goals in life? It couldn’t, maybe, just a little, be a bit your fault as well? It takes two, after all.”

Mikleo had had disagreements with his mother before, especially regarding this topic. But this was angrier than Sorey had ever seen Mikleo or Muse. Sorey regretted dallying along on the way here, and rushed down to intervene.

“You’re expecting to meet someone that shares all your hobbies and dreams exactly? An exact clone of yourself, perhaps?” Muse shot back. “You’re too young to realize how foolish that is! If you’d even tried to meet any of these girls halfway, any of them, you would have been married a year in. You’re the one being stubborn and lazy, Mikleo; and hurtful, and disrespectful at that—”

“Let’s talk about disrespect,” Mikleo started in. “About how these torrid affairs have smeared our family’s name in town, and damaged the reputation of the temple. Have you visited Maotelus, recently? There’s something wrong with him, something making him weak and sick, and you can bet that it’s related to all the negative energy this idiotic soap opera is stirring up in town. Malevolence is building up faster than ever, and soon, it’ll be faster than we’ll be able to keep up with.”

No, no. That wasn’t why Maotelus was so tired and weak. It wasn’t the reason at all. Sorey knew the real issue; Maotelus had told him, with strict instructions to never speak of it to anyone, not even Mikleo. Sorey understood why – it would be something that would break Mikleo’s heart, and shatter his dreams. Sorey would sooner die than see either thing happen. But even though he was honor-bound forbidden from revealing the truth, Sorey could at least break up this disagreement between two of the people he loved the most.

Sorey tore in full-throttle, and jumped up on Mikleo to slobber kisses all over his face. Mikleo squawked at the sudden interruption, and stumbled back under Sorey’s weight. Once Mikleo was suitably covered in drool, Sorey disengaged and descended upon his next target. He swirled around Muse’s legs, whimpering piteously, rubbing his feathered coat all over her temple robes. He stared up at her with soulful eyes, and let his tongue blep out of his mouth just so. Muse was just as weak to his puppy-eyed looks as Mikleo was, and Sorey tried his best not to abuse his power unless it was absolutely necessary – like it was here, to break up a fight, or like it was last week, when Muse had fresh meat buns from the temple kitchen.

Thankfully, his intervention seemed to be just the thing needed to disrupt the argument. Muse tsked at him, and leaned down to stroke his head. Sorey’s eyes slid closed as her fingers crept behind his ear. Oh, Mikleo’s skill at petting was clearly passed down through the generations.

“Oh, Sorey,” Muse sighed. “Shedding again. It must be this summer heat. I’ll brush you out later today.”

Sorey whuffed in gratitude. He felt Mikleo’s gaze on him, and he cracked open one eye to meet it. Mikleo…was still ruffled in more ways than one, but was clearly grateful for Sorey’s help; and more than a little abashed.

“I’ll go on the date,” Mikleo said quietly. “Where is it today?”

“In Ladylake,” Muse said. Her shoulders straightened out, and she recovered from her mood to puff up a bit in pride. “You’ll be meeting the mayor’s daughter in the city’s most exclusive café.”

Mikleo’s jaw dropped. “Ladylake!? That’s two hours away by train!”

Muse’s hand slipped into her robes to produce a train ticket. “Yes, but the mayor ensured you’ll be travelling in comfort. He wants a good match for his youngest child, and asked me directly to have you court her. You made quite the impression on him during last year’s exorcism.”

Ladylake was a huge city, and huge cities generated a similarly huge amount of malevolence. Normally, this was tended-to by the city’s own staff of priests, but last year saw the city’s underground system of aqueducts grow so thick with cursed miasma that the city’s officials were dropping left and right. In desperation, the mayor – Mayor Diphda, Mikleo recalled – had reached out to the temple at Camlann, having heard rumors of the power of the gods that was hosted there. He paid a tidy sum to have a retinue of Camlann’s finest priests (and Mikleo) come to Ladylake to try their hands at the city’s salvation.

Mikleo had studied Ladylake’s aqueducts for years on paper, and had been thrilled to see them in-person, even though the circumstances weren’t…ideal, perhaps. Even with this study under his belt, it was difficult at first to pinpoint where the source of the blight was located in the aqueduct’s many winding paths. He stayed up for days, pouring over maps and textbooks with Sorey, and on the third day – buried under papers and with ink-stained hands – they deduced that the source was located directly underneath Ladylake’s city hall.

Now, this in itself was hardly surprising, and perhaps that was why the city’s officials rolled their eyes at Mikleo when he presented his findings. The city’s seat of government was a hotbed of malevolence and corruption? Water was wet, the sky was blue, and there had to be another source to blame for the malevolence seeping through the street drains and through kitchen faucets. Unheeded but undaunted, Mikleo descended into the aqueducts with Sorey at his side. They would find the source of the taint, and get to see the aqueducts’ ancient stonework up-close. Two birds with one stone.

One brief but exciting expedition, and down one howling ghost who had been assured that justice would be served, the aqueducts were cleared of malevolence…and they had a corpse on their hands. It was the body of a government official who had been missing for weeks, and – from the gossip Mikleo and Sorey had heard around town over their visit – he was a man who had been the leader of the opposition in the city council against the mayor’s plans to permit mining in the sacred mountains surrounding Ladylake.

“Mining in those mountains would loosen minerals into the groundwater,” Sorey had whispered to him in concern. “It would taint the whole city’s water supply, and make so many people sick. And those are the mountains that border Camlann, so Camlann could wind up sick too…”

“You’re not concerned about humans besmirching holy ground for profit?” Mikleo asked.

Sorey looked a little embarrassed. “Well, we name things sacred for a reason. The gods probably declared that land was ‘sacred’ because they knew it was dangerous for humans to develop it. But I guess it’s sacred to me, personally. I wouldn’t want them knocking down my grandfather’s old temple, or damming up the river that feeds our waterfall.”

Mikleo was just one man, and an outsider at that. He had no sway in Ladylake’s political circus, even if it could potentially wind up harming Camlann. He could only give a statement to the city’s police force, and pray that Maotelus’ protection would stay strong enough to protect the mountain that held so many sacred, precious things.

So much for that. He was stepping off a first-class cab on a train, and climbing into a car that was waiting to spirit him off to a date with a potential murderer’s daughter. He was without a single friendly face. (Sorey had stayed back in the village, watching after him mournfully as the train pulled away. The train didn’t allow pets. Mikleo wondered if they had a discount rate for local gods.) How could his mother even entertain this match? He had told her of the whole incident, of his suspicions and concerns. Surely she didn’t expect him to marry this girl, and use that to sway the mayor’s opinion…

As Mikleo stepped into the café and looked around, he felt entirely out of his element – as if he didn’t feel that way the moment he’d left Camlann. The city was so loud and busy, and this café looked so exclusive. Had Ladylake always been like this? Had he only been able to bear it because Sorey was with him? It did not bode well for Mikleo’s dreams of travelling the world, that was for certain. An older woman in an understated but well-tailored robe approached him, and bowed.

“We thank you for coming out all this way, good sir Mikleo,” the woman said. “Allow me to bring you to the young mistress’ private booth.”

Mikleo returned the bow, murmuring niceties, and followed the woman as she walked. He briefly entertained the thought of running away, but wasn’t sure if he’d be able to make it back to the train station on his own. Nor was he certain he could make his way out of the café on his own – he was led deeper and deeper through the luxuriously-decorated halls, and was thoroughly disoriented.

“Lady Alisha. Your suitor has arrived.”

“Thank you,” said the girl waiting in the private room. “Mikleo, was it? From Camlann.”

“Yes,” said Mikleo, a bit more tersely than intended. He heard the door shut behind him, and saw little option to do much other than sit down across from the girl – Alisha. “It’s a pleasure.”

Alisha gave a tight smile. “Y-yes, it’s a pleasure. I hope the trip was uneventful.”

“It was…” Mikleo trailed off, and caught a glimpse of the book Alisha had been reading when he walked in, and was now trying to stealthily slide off the table. “…is that the Celestial Record?”

Alisha visibly perked up, and hesitantly slid the book back onto the table. “Y-yes! Have you read it?”

“My uncle wrote it,” Mikleo said, with no little fondness and pride. “I read it when it was in its first draft.”

Alisha’s eyes went huge, and she gripped both sides of the book in her excitement. “Y-you did!?” she exclaimed. “Have you seen the original journals Mr. Rulay wrote his notes upon? Oh, I’ve always wanted to see them for myself…”

“No you don’t. His handwriting is terrible,” Mikleo said. “And most of them have some sort of horrible stain on them. But really, they’re fascinating. They go into more detail than the Celestial Record had the page space for, and they have a certain aura about them, it’s a…”

“Spirit of adventure,” Alisha said dreamily. “Yes, that’s how I imagined them.”

Alisha was blonde of hair and had eyes like new leaves in spring. She had the poise of a noble lady, and the easy, bright smile of a young maiden. Her violet robes gave her a summery sort of look, and the color suited her well. Her copy of his uncle’s book was well taken care of, and clearly well-loved; its pages dotted with bookmarks of every color and little slips of paper to mark notes on. For the first time since all this matchmaking nonsense started, Mikleo was actually…well. He could maybe entertain the thought of lasting more than three months with Alisha.

They took tea and lunch in their private booth, and chatted non-stop all the while. Alisha, like Mikleo, dreamed of seeing the world. But alas, as a politician’s daughter, she did not have the option to travel far and wide unescorted, nor the option to see the world as it truly was – the busy city streets and endless forests, the real world, not the carefully-curated world of exclusive teahouses and state dinners. However, she said, rising from her seat and offering her hand to Mikleo, she could at least show him around Ladylake.

“I understand that you likely did not get the chance the last time you were here, on business,” Alisha said. “I would love to show you some of our proudest landmarks, like the Great Waterwheel, and the Great Sanctuary…”

“Sounds great,” Mikleo said, making Alisha chuckle.

They left the café, with Alisha’s handmaid and a few men in dark suits following them at a respectful distance; allowing the “lovebirds” their privacy. Alisha was a wealth of information about the history of her city, and her running commentary on various landmarks was nothing less than riveting. Even his uncle’s book didn’t go into this much detail – he could almost hear Uncle Michael’s old rants about his publisher cutting out chapters’ worth of text. Alisha smiled up at him in the noontime sun, and…

…

…her pale blonde hair was the wrong shade, her green eyes were not rich enough in color. Mikleo shook off the feeling, and sighed. His mother was right. No matter what, it seemed like he’d never be satisfied with any match.

“Alisha,” Mikleo began. “I—”

“Little miss Diphda, out for a walk! What’s your father up to today!?”

“Selling us out for more gold to line his pockets!”

Mikleo looked up and around at the source of the jeers, and found that a small crowd had gathered across the street to sling accusations at Alisha. Alisha kept her back straight, and turned to address the crowd.

“Please, citizens of Ladylake!” she said, in a loud, clear voice, over the voices of the crowd. “I assure you, my father is not planning on allowing the desecration of the sacred peaks of Lakehaven!”

“That’s news to the mining guilds! They’ve been building some biiiiig machines lately!”

“Justice for Councilman Pellinore!”

“Pellinore rolls in his grave!”

A black car rolled up, and Alisha’s handmaid and bodyguards firmly and quickly took Mikleo and Alisha by the arm and all-but-shoved them inside. The door shut, cutting off the sound of the crowd outside. They were in their own separate cab from the driver and Alisha’s retinue, maintaining their privacy, so their courtship could continue. As if it could. Mikleo was silent, and could not quite meet Alisha’s eyes. Alisha, likewise, seemed to have retreated in on herself.

Finally, Alisha spoke up.

“I am sorry that you had to be caught up in Ladylake’s troubles,” Alisha said, and seemed entirely sincere at that.

“I was the one who found Pellinore’s body,” Mikleo said, without even thinking. What was he saying? “Underneath city hall, poisoning the aqueducts.”

Alisha looked at him in the eye, her expression heavily with sorrow. “You are a priest of the temple in the holy mountain. You can hear the voices of the gods?”

“I can,” Mikleo said.

“Can you also hear the voices of the dead?”

“I can.”

Alisha was quiet for a minute or so. She breathed.

“Did you speak to Lord Pellinore’s spirit? When you found his remains.”

“I did. He said he suspected your father was the one who ordered his death.”

Alisha’s next breath was ragged, and she took a moment to compose herself, dotting at her eyes with her hankie.

“I’m sorry,” Alisha said. “I have no right to weep. I’ve denied my family’s sins for too long, ignored all the evidence.”

Mikleo didn’t really feel the right to comfort this girl that he’d just met, and awkwardly reached out to pat her shoulder. She gave him a watery smile.

“I’m so sorry, Mikleo. Truth be told, this…I’m not very interested in this matchmaking business…”

Mikleo breathed out a sigh, and couldn’t help cracking a smile. “That’s one more thing we have in common, it seems.”

Alisha laughed, and some of the stress seemed to leave her posture. “Wonderful, that’s wonderful. I…I already have someone, you know. I can’t tell my father, it’d cause such a scandal. But she’s so beautiful, and exotic, and mysterious…”

An image flashed across Mikleo’s mind, of Rose and her bizarre costume choices. He knew better than to meddle in his friend’s love life, but he hoped Rose was being sincere when she referred to Alisha as more than just another fling. And he hoped that she was kidding about the wicked king assassination thing. Sorey always told Mikleo that she had the scent of blood about her.

“…do you also have someone in your heart, Mikleo?” Alisha asked curiously.

Golden hair and emerald eyes and a smile that blazed like lightning in a storm. The thought shook Mikleo’s heart.

“…no one in particular,” Mikleo said. “But I wish you the best with your special someone. And please, don’t stop pursuing your dreams. That’s a promise we can both hold each other to.”

“Yes,” Alisha agreed. “We’ll meet again and trade travel stories, I hope. My flower and I, and maybe someday, you and your one and only.”

The car dropped Mikleo off at the train station, and Alisha waved at him through the window before the car pulled away. She had directed one of her bodyguards to keep watch over the train station, to ensure Mikleo’s safety while he waited for the train to come. Mikleo didn’t have time enough to raise his hackles at being watched, before he realized that he was already being watched by a familiar figure.

“Sorey?” Mikleo said, shocked.

Sorey was in dog form, and was sitting near the outdoor gardens at the station, watching Mikleo out of the corner of his eye. He was very clearly sulking. Mikleo spotted an ice cream vendor nearby, and bought a vanilla cone before jogging over to Sorey.

“Sorey. You’re here,” Mikleo said, with no little surprise. “How did you…?”

Sorey turned up his nose at the ice cream Mikleo offered, and huffed through his muzzle.

“I can fly, you know,” Sorey said snippily. “These feathers aren’t just for show.”

Mikleo was aware of that little fact about Sorey, but that didn’t explain why he followed him here. The ice cream was melting onto his hand, and he gave his fingers a quick lick. Sorey stiffened, and looked away again.

“Sorey.” Mikleo offered the ice cream again. “You must be starving. And it’s hot out. Please, have this.”

“You should probably share that with Alisha,” Sorey said, almost accusingly. “It looked like you two had such a nice time together today. And you went sightseeing without me.”

Mikleo dotted the tip of Sorey’s nose with the ice cream, and watched as Sorey was helpless but to lick it off.

“How long were you watching us?”

“I saw you go into the café, and then walk off for a city tour arm-in-arm.”

“So, you didn’t see the crowd yelling at Alisha. Or how we got shoved into an unmarked black car to escape in one piece.”

Sorey stared at him in shock, his eyes softening in concern.

“…no, I didn’t,” he admitted. “Mikleo, are you alright? What happened?”

Mikleo told him the whole story, feeding Sorey the melting ice cream as he spoke.

“…so she’s already got someone in her heart, and we have more reason to be concerned about Rose’s extracurricular activities,” Mikleo finished.

Sorey nuzzled up to him, his previous sulky mood completely absent. Mikleo accepted the affection greedily, and buried his face in Sorey’s silky neck.

“I’m so sorry I couldn’t protect you,” Sorey said quietly.

“I’m glad you were safe elsewhere,” Mikleo replied. “Plus I know you get really nauseous in cars.”

Sorey huffed again. “That was one time!”

Mikleo laughed in delight, and heard announcements for the approaching train.

“I’ll hop on that train and head home,” Mikleo said. “Will you be okay flying back?”

“Of course!” Sorey said, with a doggy smile as bright as his human one. “I’ll beat you there. Meet me up in Maotelus’ chamber, and you can tell us both all about Ladylake?”

“Of course,” Mikleo replied. “It’s a date.”

Before Mikleo could realize what had happened, Sorey stole a quick kiss to his cheek, leaving the heavy smell of vanilla and a lingering tingle of warmth. Mikleo watched Sorey trot off into the gardens, toward a secluded patch of trees to mask his takeoff. He barely heard the bells announcing his train, and very nearly missed it, were it not for the station attendant approaching him directly.

He sank into his seat on the train, and watched the countryside fly by, with thoughts of touring Ladylake again with Sorey by his side racing through his mind.

–

Chapter Directory

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surflove808 · 7 years

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Fan Wars: A New Hope. Damnit.

I sure do hope you like reading lots of words!!

Here's the remix (Edited. Longer. Angrier. Yay!): I’m about to get all fire and brimstone up in here. I apologize in advance.

Regarding my blog post re: The Joke Debacle, most everyone has been so thoughtful, mature, kind and open minded about the discussion matter, even if they didn’t necessarily agree with me. So that right there, shows me that it’s possible for all of us to be more understanding with each other regardless of our ships or faves or whatever. And I’m an open-minded, open book, so even if you don’t agree with me, this is a safe place to vent concerns or frustrations with what I say. We can all respectfully disagree, meet in the middle or go just back to our own corners. Whatever.

I'd like to encourage those of you who are taking your frustrations out on anyone who agrees with points made in my article (on Twitter or wherever) to come speak directly to me if you have an issue. I wrote it, after all. My blog is helpfully linked right there in the article. I don't bite. And for those of you who aren't overly familiar with what's going on, please check out the many, many comments attached to my actual blog post, and you will be able to see that there are far more people that are fed up with these bad apples, than there are bad apples. I hope. And if there are apples that don’t feel like they’re being given a fair shake, I’d like to hear from those apples too.

When I posted my angry rant last week, I didn’t expect it to gain so much traction. But it did…and it showed me I wasn’t alone, and that there are a lot of fed up fans out there, and justifiably so, who are looking for an end to this ridiculous inner-fandom civil war. I'm relatively new to Tumblr. I wasn't expecting to become the unofficial mouthpiece for this issue.

I was approached by movietvtechgeeks.com asking if they could use my blog post in an article about the cyberbullying that’s happening in this fandom, so I said “Sure!” I’m honored that someone would want to print my rambling. But of course, it’s also opened up the floor on Twitter, yet again, for certain people to deliberately misconstrue the content and twist it to suit their own agenda in the comment sections. What they fail to realize is…they’re only proving why we needed this article in the first place. So, joke’s on them!! However…. now I feel obligated to come on here and clarify my intent and that’s friggin irritating.

Here is the article if you want to take a looksee: https://twitter.com/movietvtechgeek/status/927578926397952000

I NEED TO MAKE A FEW THINGS CRYSTAL CLEAR (apparently):

1. I don’t have a ship. I don’t dislike shippers. (Ship away! I just dislike pushy people with no sense of boundaries) So please do not misconstrue anything I say as promoting or denigrating *a* ship. You do you. Let me do me. Well, that sounded vaguely dirty… you know what I mean. I’m just gonna ship me with myself now. Nobody can love me quite like me.

2. I don’t stan an actor, and I don’t think that because someone likes “another” actor (whomever that might be) more, that it’s a direct affront to me or them. I tag all these "relevant to the post” actors because I think they’re all relevant to the success of this show, and sadly….also to this juvenile ridiculousness that seems to be brewing between fan factions.

But, if I’m being honest? Full disclosure: I do have a favorite! Jensen. Heyyyoooo! I think he’s an incredibly talented actor IN MY OPINION, and I like his extraordinarily expressive face. See? Simple as that. Is that a problem? And do you feel better now that it’s out in the open?

We can all have opinions, and favorites without “throwing feces like howler monkeys” to quote a certain dickhead angel. And as far as personalities and talent go? They’re all amazing, and they all belong, IN MY OPINION. The main cast, the supporting cast, new castmates, former castmates…. they all just…gel. You know? It’s some kind of voodoo magic. And they’re by all accounts, really decent people doing good things out there in the world. Without any one of them, it wouldn’t be the show we all know and love. And if you don’t love the SHOW, well….I guess fucking go watch something else? Right??

Listen....Unless you’re tied to a chair Clockwork Orange-style, and being force fed this show by some evil, covert government agency… you DO have other choices.

3. I sucked it up and joined Twitter because there seems to be an attack dog, hive-mind situation happening that seems hell bent on cowing people into submission. That shit doesn’t fly with me. And if I’m on there and see bullying, damaging misinformation or harassment… I’m going to get in the fray. But I’m going to TRY to do it with honesty, integrity and a sense of humor. I want to sit at the adults table on Turkey Day. Not at the kids table with Weird Uncle Augustus. Know what I mean? Don’t be that guy.

AND ONCE MORE FOR THE PEOPLE IN THE BACK: To be clear - I’m not speaking to ONE specific group of people. However, if you look into the mirror I’m holding up and see your own reflection? I’m probably talking to you.

4. I’m not going to choose a “side”. I choose the show, it’s actors, crew, writers, etc, collectively. Because they all work their asses off, both on and off the set to give us fans so much more than just entertainment.

5. If someone wanted to hold a mirror up to this fandom right now, via a juicy documentary on the ship wars, fighting factions, undermining, conspiracy theories, revenge tactics, harassment campaigns, etc…. I think its safe to say, we’re all gonna be pretty fucking embarrassed. Let’s hope that never happens. I’m cringing just thinking about it. But we deserve it, if we keep on with this petty bullshit, ya know? 6. My blog post was not about for J2 "stans” or about Misha “stans”, for gods sake people. This post was about how splinter groups (for lack of a better term) were being damaging and disruptive (As they do.) and how it’s bad for EVERYONE when we let warring factions steamroll over everyone else, AND each other. This post was a direct response to the organized and brutally efficient Twitter campaign that somehow found its way into the laps of a handful of online news sites in an effort to publicize an off-color joke in order to take advantage of the current climate in the entertainment industry and start a viral witch hunt. *I just ran out of breath. Time for a James Brown pause*

7. My post was also aimed at the Twitter spamming campaigns that Shatner and Pellegrino, as well as J2 had to put up with in the past few weeks. And don't feed us that horsehit about them bullying the poor fans that spoke their minds. NO. You collectively went on, and started shit, kept coming at them, and they defended themselves. And rather maturely, considering. It’s about groups of people that have gotten so wrapped up and out of control, that they’re poisoning this fan family. I genuinely feel concerned that some folks are confusing reality with fiction, here.

8. If you look back farther on my Tumblr page (?) to the good ol days of last Thursday (?) - particularly the Silent Majority post - that post is not in reference to any fan or any actor, specifically. It’s in reference to the majority of fans who want to do the right thing, WANT to help out, WANT to just enjoy the damn show without all this drama and hate. But because they’re quiet, and they’re not able to speak their minds without fear of retribution…. they’re vastly under-represented. And so, the assholes of the fandom run amok unchallenged. THAT’S the majority I’m speaking of. 9. I abhor anyone that lurks around on social media looking for people to mess with. So, imagine my surprise and disappointment that now I’M that person, because of this fucking shit!! I’m only getting after people who are picking on others, but still… lurking, arguing. Utter waste of valuable time. Yours and mine.

Saturday night I apparently pissed off the leader of one of the SPN gangs (what do you call them??) when I called her out on her behavior and was ominously told: “Wanna see what happens when I tell my followers what to think and do”. To which I responded “I already have. And it’s deplorable” And then offered to provide her with my name, # and home address. She didn’t want it. I don’t know why. I thought it was funny! I NEVER get hate mail... and I was looking forward to some postcards. I’m old school that way. Don’t hate tweet me. Send me a hate postcard featuring something cool from your state.

Jokes aside....that’s the kind of crap that mobilized me in the first place.

I tried to have a reasonable conversation with this individual and even asked if she wanted to take it offline and talk. I followed her lead, conversationally, did snark back when required...but just when I thought we were going to have a reasonable discussion, she pulled the rug out. I tried. If you’re reading this and you feel misrepresented, or misunderstood, or you’re trying to misrepresent our conversation - the door is still open if you want to talk. But I’m not going to tolerate your bullshit, and neither should anyone else.

Who ARE these people? And why is this happening? That’s my question.

10. I'm not here to listen to arguments that a 6-year old might find compelling in a court of law, such as: Well, Jensen told that joke a year ago, or Misha said thisthatandtheotherthing back in the day...so why are you only talking about Jareds joke?

Well...because this is not a tit-for-tat thing. I'm talking about the issue that is relevant RIGHT NOW. And this is far from a "blame it on Jared" thing. I feel awful for the guy. For both of them for even being looped into this insanity. The intent of my blog post was to address very current events that have been demonstrative of the current, toxic climate brewing in the SPN fandom. I’m NOT here to write the Unabridged History of SPN Actors and Their Fondness for Off-Color Jokes.

11. If you're all wound up and offended by what I wrote? It's probably because I wrote this blog post not for you, but about you. OR, you've not been provided with context, content or clarity, and you got swept up in this manufactured hysteria and reacted. OR, you think I’m a total asshole, and that’s ok. I get it! And I understand how my post could make some of you defensive and prickly. But hey, as the saying goes... don't start none, won't BE none. On the flip side, as someone eloquently stated (ahem, CarolHansson) "It's ok to be offended....it's also ok to not be offended"

12. I am not a rape apologist. And neither are the actors. And to even insinuate that any of us, by extension of supporting Jared or Jensen in this situation, are pro "rape culture", is appropriating a term and using it so irresponsibly that you're negating the real suffering of sexual abuse survivors. The more you trivialize it, the more you take away its power. Stop using manufactured concern for survivors as your jumping-off point for harassment, and START asking yourself what's really motivating you to use that argument as an excuse for your behavior. BTW, #Metoo, and you sure as hell don't represent ME.

If you want to see a record of this casts achievements for mental health awareness, LGBTQ rights, anti-bullying and womens issues, to name a few - it's a simple Google search away. That's on your time. Not mine. Again....not here to write their autobiography. This piece is an opinion piece. I try to be balanced, but that’s as far as it goes. I'm not CNN.

13. MISHA: Misha was not mentioned in my post because Misha was not under fire last week or the week before over this stupid bullshit. If I SEE that happening, I’ll write about THAT. But HE was not the focus of this mess. So I left HIM out of it. Does that make sense? And also? I'm not here to equally represent all actors at all times. That's not how this works in the context of the subject matter at hand. If you want to see more adequate representation for your favorite actor - write your own op ed. Easy peasy, lemon squeezy.

And Misha as well as J2, are probably more than a little appalled that some of their biggest fans (?) are committing to some shady behavior in their honor and in their names. Just a guess. They’re good guys and this is probably not sanctioned behavior. If you think it is? Show me the receipts. Let’s do this honestly, using facts. Not conjecture.

14. No, I do not excuse anyone's behavior because of their physical attractiveness. Neither do most people. I am not a child (Thank you, Uma Thurman), and I don't rationalize like a child.

15. No, I am not doing this to seek approval from the actors, and neither is anyone else with the #istandwithJ2 hashtag. As previously stated, this is an equal and opposite reaction to the bullshit that brought us all here today. You’re grasping at straws at this point, if that’s the argument you’re going with. Speaking on my own behalf, I have nothing to gain here, except some new Tumblr friends with a side of troll.

16. To reiterate on previous posts - I’m hoping that all of us will collectively start sticking up for each other when we see someone harassing a fellow fan online. Even if you don’t want to comment….maybe give the person being flamed those little heart thingys (likes?). Direct message them if liking their post doesn’t feel safe. Show them your support in some way, so that they don’t feel alone and so that they don’t feel quite so vulnerable to attacks from online bullies. We Have Got To Start Backing Up People who are just trying to express their opinions respectfully and are being slammed with responses that are belligerent, demeaning, threatening, obnoxious, etc. Otherwise - these jerks will just keep steamrolling right over the more gentle viewers out there. And a lot of them, are just kids. And this goes both ways. It has to, in order to be effective.

If you see something - say something. That’s my 2 cents anyway.

The world’s going to Hell in a handbasket, 26 innocent people were gunned down yesterday in a place they held sacred and felt safe in, and it just keeps happening.

Mother Nature has decided she’s sick of our shit and has been upending thousands of lives. There are actual sexual predators in some of our pasts and sadly, in some of our futures. And this “joke” has no relevancy or bearing on that sad fact.

Women, people of color, LGBTQ people, economically fragile people, physically fragile people, etc...are seeing their protections, rights and livelihoods eroded away in an alarmingly short period of time, and the list goes on and on… and THIS is what we’re dedicating our mental and emotional resources to?

This show is supposed to be an escape from reality, guys. Not actual reality.

Why are we harassing the actors and fellow fans of a television show that brought us all together in the first place? This is entertainment, people. I know how important this show is to all of us. And I know how impactful the message of this show has been. And I know that without this show, some of us might not be here today. We are some passionate sumbitches. I GET THAT.

The question still remains.... what in the actual fuck are we really fighting for and about, here? If someone can quantify and explain that to me in a way that makes sense, I’m all ears.

Has it really come to: “Maybe we need to devise a more sophisticated tagging situation so that people don’t keep dipping their chocolate in other peoples peanut butter.” I don’t know. But this is Nth level ridiculousness, and we need to figure it out before it gets even worse.

For now, I’m going to get back to enjoying this show for what it is, and putting my beautiful brain back to work on more important matters. I’ve spent a week in this muck, and it’s been... enlightening. I’ll say that.

And even though I don’t agree with some of you - I can see by the CSI-level attention to detail that a lot of us have applied to all things SPN... that we could actually be mobilized into an almost unstoppable force for real good and real change. If we wanted that.

We could probably figure out who ordered JFK’s assassination. Figure out where Jimmy Hoffa’s buried. Solve the mysteries of the pyramids.... help reunite missing kids with their families...Get Trump impeached... ahem. You get it.

Or we could just keep wasting our pent-up aggression on other fans, and the actors of our favorite show. Because that’s easy. Choices.

But wait! There’s more! Because I keep getting valid messages and concerns, this ridiculously long piece just got longer.

Posting these blogs has opened the door to a lot of private communication from both sides of the fence in the fandom, and I'm going to include some of my recent responses to an SPN fan who felt that her group of fans were not getting a fair shake and felt my blog targeted them. We had a long discussion and she was very cool and had a lot of valid concerns and examples of other bad fan behavior dating wayyyy back, so I wanted to add this in.

I'm just going to paraphrase my own replies and print them here, so that people who may feel misrepresented or angry can see that, there are other ways to discuss these issues and for everyone to see that there's a better way than Twitter Wars.

(Paraphrased conversation subject matter in italics)

What's amazing is that J2 fans AND Misha fans have private messaged me with the exact same concerns. And you have one very important thing in common: You ALL feel victimized. And you have been. Know why? It's because you've been victimizing each other.

(Slaps own face. HARD.) Not because of her. But because of this whole enchilada.

If both groups are concerned about the same issues and both want the harassment to stop, whyyyy are you still at each others throats?

Well, I think it's because good people are capable of behaving very badly, especially online. And all they’re doing is making themselves look ridiculous. And they do not merit support.

A lot of people have been using me as a mediator, or prism, so to speak, with regards to this issue. But you don't need me, when you all essentially want the same damn thing.

It's time to stop participating. All you have to do is take a step back and say to yourself (or others if you’re feeling up to it) I'm not going to support harassment, hate or damaging misinformation. And you can do that by unfollowing abusive accounts, by not "liking" or reblogging abusive content...and/or by not contributing to it yourself. And if enough of us did that, BOOM, on our way to a solved problem.

These are only a few suggestions. There's no cure or quick fix for this.

Only alternatives to current behaviors.

And I know there's a lot of bad blood between these groups as evidenced by the mountains of grievances I've been getting. Can’t un-say or undo any of it. But we can stop doing it going forward, can’t we?

As long as people want to keep concentrating on past transgressions and dwelling on past arguments, no one can move on.

And continuing to keep score with hopes to "win" something on here isn’t working either. I’ve got bad news: There's no "winning" here. No grand prize. Just more of the same bullshit. And if you’re happy to sit in this pile of crap and continue to marinate? That’s your prerogative. By “your” I mean WHOMEVER fits the bill.

It's not my responsibility to make you play nice with each other. Or mediate your arguments. Though, it sounds like mediation is exactly what ya'll might need. I'm just here, publicly stating how this all looks to me: Like a never-ending playground slapfight.

I think that there will always be "haters". That's the nature of fandom, and life in general. But if we stop promoting that kind of behavior with our support, and if these individuals have to lurk in the back channels, as opposed to being allowed to thrive and build fiefdoms all over social media. That sounds like a good compromise to me.

And if you have a lot to express on this matter from your own perspective, there are better alternatives to spamming people on Twitter. For example...

Write a blog! If you’d like to provide an objective viewpoint, and also defend your stance but you’re afraid people will see that you support actor A, B, or C and automatically discount what you have to say? Start a side blog. Compile a list of wrongs that you’ve seen committed by both sides and be the mirror, and show people what they’ve become.

Create your own, blank slate and start fresh.

There, now I can drop the mic.

#Jensen Ackles #Jared Padalecki #Misha Collins #spnfandom #spn family #dean winchester #Sam Winchester #castiel #mark pellegrino #lucifer

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