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thankskenpenders · 3 years ago

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IDW Sonic: Imposter Syndrome and #50

It’s finally here! IDW Sonic #50! I waited to talk about the Imposter Syndrome miniseries until after #50 dropped, and it turns out #50 has, uh... well, it’s made a big splash. I’m not sure I’ve seen this many people talking about (and/or arguing over) a single issue of Sonic in a long time.

As expected, in this post I’ll be talking about Surge, Kit, and Starline, but #50 has also given us a ton to chew on regarding Sonic and Eggman, Belle, and the overarching themes of the entire IDW series.

Let’s start out with the miniseries!

IMPOSTER SYNDROME

Surge rules

Can I just say that up front? That’s my main takeaway. Surge fucking rules

She was popular from the very second the first images of her dropped because Evan and Mauro came up with an extremely sick design, and the actual story does not disappoint. She borrows liberally from delinquent rival anime tropes (except, you know, she’s a girl, so it’s instantly even better), but that’s such a natural and fun addition to the Sonic cast that she instantly grabs you

And boy, if the writing and the strength of the design weren’t already enough, Thomas Rothlisberger’s art throughout the arc sure does. I’ve seen a lot of comparisons to Rise of the TMNT, which I can see. But Surge just makes so many good faces, constantly, and everything she does is cool. She’s angry teenage rebellion personified and she’s instantly become one of my favorite characters in the entire franchise, period. (Tangle and Whisper are also up there, so it’s safe to say the IDW comics have an extremely good track record when it comes to comic-original characters.)

Like seriously just look at her faces and tell me she isn’t the best

Kit, AKA “Aw Little Guy!!! Oh He's A Little Bit Fucked Up Actually”

There were always hints that Kit had a sinister side to him - he is a villain, after all - but Surge stole the show at the start of the miniseries. This left Kit mostly as her meager sidekick struggling to please both her and Starline. In this way, he’s a dark reflection of Tails. Where Tails has become more independent over time, becoming more of an equal to Sonic, Kit exists entirely to support Surge. Starline made him this way, because this is how Starline perceives Sonic and Tails’ relationship. Starline doesn’t really understand people despite thinking he does, and this is what ultimately damns all of them

Naturally, this has left Kit kind of fucked up. Over the course of the arc, it becomes clear that he’s probably the scarier of the two. Surge might be stronger, but like Sonic, she wears her emotions and her intentions on her sleeve. But Kit? Kit suppresses his violent urges, until they build to a point where he can’t anymore

(these panels from #50 but still)

Holy shit, Starline???

I touched on Starline’s very meta plan earlier. I would have honestly been happy if Ian and co. had just added these cool new rivals for Sonic and Tails and let them duke it out, because they are, in fact, cool as hell. But the actual plot of the arc is more intriguing than that

Starline has always been a very meta character, with his main trait as a character basically being that he can zoom out and notice patterns in the franchise that other characters either can’t or won’t. He’s the guy who watches a movie and says how he would make smarter decisions than the characters the whole time. Early on, he did this with Eggman. He tried to “fix” Eggman’s methods so that he could finally succeed in beating Sonic and taking over the world, but this didn’t work out, and Eggman kicked him to the curb. He then decided that he would simply go solo and take over the world for Eggman. He finally reveals his true plan for doing so here: create his own “heroes” who can replace Sonic and Tails, the main heroes who always stand in the way of “progress” (Eggman taking over the world). In theory, this will allow Starline to control the hero/villain dynamic from both sides, ending the cycle of Eggman trying to “change the world” and Sonic stopping him

And of course, Starline calls this cycle he intends to break...

“The Sonic Cycle.”

I love you Ian

It quickly becomes apparently, though, that Starline’s plan here is, uh. Extremely fucked up! Wow! Early on it’s revealed that Starline has repeatedly been “rebooting” Surge and Kit. Any time the cracks start to show in their conditioning and they question their life stories, Starline’s orders, or their innate desires to defeat Sonic and Tails, Starline edits their memories. They do start to put two and two together, though, and eventually they learn the truth: they’re just two random kids Starline kidnapped and experimented on. They don’t remember their actual pasts, and Starline didn’t bother to keep track of who they originally were because he doesn’t care. They’ve been modified with cyborg endoskeletons and even have some of the Metal Virus in them, making them nigh-unkillable. Which Starline tested by... well, killing them repeatedly to make sure they always bounced back.

This is... so much darker than I would have ever expected? But in a fantastic way. It makes Starline SO absolutely despicable, and it gives Surge and Kit this pathos that makes you want to root for them, even as they set out to go rogue and burn the whole world down. Surge is very much set up as her own antihero in the buildup to her showdown with Sonic, which is a choice that I think leads to some fascinating character juxtaposition when it finally happens in issue #50.

Really, my only complaint about the miniseries was that the marketing made it seem like Sonic and Tails would be dealing with these two sooner, when in reality this is all the setup. The extremely hype wrestling promos for the climactic Wrestlemania that is Sonic #50. (My other complaint, I suppose, is that IDW is still having multiple artists trade off in a single story, which can be a bit jarring. But that’s a publisher-wide issue.)

But MAN. When we finally do get that big showdown? It does not disappoint.

SONIC #50

As with Imposter Syndrome, I went in expecting Sonic and Tails to fight Surge and Kit. And we absolutely got that with this extra-long issue penciled by Adam Bryce Thomas. Adam’s always been an A-lister on the IDW series, especially when it comes to bombastic shounen manga-inspired battles, but this issue might just be his best Sonic work yet

But like I said at the start, the issue is more than just some cool fights.

Sonic vs. Surge

Surge’s entire life, or at least what little of her life she can remember thanks to Starline, has been building up to this moment. Whoever she was before is gone, replaced with one purpose. She’s been impatiently awaiting the day she's finally allowed to fight Sonic to the death. We’ve followed her through Starline’s inhumane training, the audience being equally antsy after months of buildup. At long last, she confronts him. She delivers an impassioned speech about what she stands for, how she curses the world that discarded her, how she’s going to tear Sonic and anyone else who stands in her way a new one...

And Sonic... doesn’t really give that much of a shit.

They do fight, of course. Boy, do they ever. But Sonic has never met this girl before and has no animosity towards her. He’s also done this too many times and would like to skip to the part where they’re friends, or at least frenemies. And this is just... tragic for Surge. For her, this is the most important day in her life. But for Sonic, it’s Tuesday. For Surge, this is a duel to the death. But Sonic, ever the unflappably positive shounen protagonist, is just having fun fighting someone who keeps him on his toes. He refuses to validate her on her terms.

(There are also a lot of interesting parallels with Tails’ simultaneous fight with Kit, where the kindhearted Tails is trying to be extremely nice and defuse the situation when he realizes that Kit is just some poor, fucked up kid. But instead of going on my own tangent I’ll link this very good TikTok analyzing Sonic’s social skills and the interesting ways his blunt, brash attitude can clash with the fact that he does genuinely care a lot.)

I even feel like Adam’s art is playing up the idea that Sonic’s attitude continues to make him the villain for Surge. His speech about his ideals places him above Surge, with a smug expression on his face and sunbeams shining down over him. Adam’s own (extremely sick) variant cover is framed very similarly, showing us the smug and above-it-all Sonic from Surge’s perspective.

Why does Surge think Sonic is so holier-than-thou? And why does she still care about fighting him if she just wants to defy Starline’s brainwashing? Well, she directly calls out his belief in the power of second chances, blaming Sonic for her very existence. Which ties back into what’s become one of the main recurring themes of the IDW series.

Sonic’s Characterization

As Ian’s explained, Sonic’s characterization in the IDW series has been informed by a number of factors. For one, more compassionate heroes are just landing better with audiences these days, including in shounen manga. Your Dekus, your Tanjiros, etc. But beyond that, Sega explicitly forbids Sonic and friends from proactively seeking out Eggman. Sonic is never looking for a fight. Eggman simply causes trouble, Sonic shows up to stop him, and he returns to being a free-spirited roamer.

Really, Sonic’s attitude in the current comics isn’t much different from how he acts in the games. Ian just decided to draw more attention to this behavior, and turn it into an explicit character trait that impacts the story.

I don’t really know what games people have been playing where Sonic DOESN’T act like this? Sure, there are a few games where a villain dies. There are always going to be counterexamples in a series as inconsistent as this. But look at how many characters Sonic has given second chances, and how lightly Sonic often takes threats to the world. Shadow was trying to blow up the damn planet and Sonic was still just having fun racing him on the ARK. Chaos destroyed a whole major metropolitan city and Sonic is like “hold on, Chaos is just hurt, we need to break this cycle of violence.” He’s ended up working with Eggman plenty of times to stop a greater threat. Even when this doesn’t happen, Eggman tends to just fly away at the end. Sonic never hunts him down. Again, Sega forbids him from doing this. It’s not in his character. The IDW comics just explore why.

At the same time, bad faith criticisms of Sonic’s willingness to give villains second chances tend to ignore the very important second part of this mantra, which this issue has Sonic spell out explicitly. Yes, he believes in giving people personal freedom. But the second they use that freedom to hurt people, Sonic is going to beat their asses again. He doesn’t have qualms about using violence in that way. He is, by no definition of the word, a pacifist. Sonic understands that Surge is traumatized, and tries to give her the chance to back down. She refuses, so he kicks her ass, because she’s a threat. Sonic sort of took mercy on the Zeti, in that he didn’t fucking execute them or whatever... but they also got banished back to the Lost Hex where they can’t hurt anyone. Tails disarmed Metal Sonic before they let him go. Sonic let Eggman go only because he had amnesia and Mr. Tinker was, by all accounts, a literal different person. The second he came back? Sonic gladly went right back to blowing his shit up. He is not out here handwringing about Eggman Empire property damage, he’s destroying his bases and smashing his mechs again.

Sonic also isn’t just any regular guy, and can’t always be judged as such. He’s a larger-than-life hero. He’s the embodiment of freedom, of endless adventure, of the power of friendship, of other idealized... well, ideals. This is the very core of his character. He’s the unshakably positive hero who never blinks in the face of danger, who the other, more realistically fallible characters can lean on. He’s a force of nature. He’s not perfect, and he doesn’t always handle things the right way, and other characters will bring up valid counterpoints to his way of life. Like other shounen heroes like Goku or Luffy, he might be a hero due to his actions, but he’s not concerned about being the world’s savior or its god. He doesn’t want to dictate how people live their lives. He leaves decisions about how to run society to other, smarter people, like the Restoration. He just wants to be free to go on adventures and to help his friends when they’re in need. His theme song spells out his whole deal, clear as day: It doesn’t matter who’s wrong and who’s right. He’s just living by his own feelings, and he won’t give in, won’t compromise. He only has a steadfast heart of gold.

Surge can’t stand this, though. The two just can’t see eye to eye. And so she zaps Sonic when he takes a time out in their fight to help her out of a chasm, getting the last laugh and seemingly falling to her doom. “That’s the real problem with giving people a choice,” Sonic solemnly says. “You can’t stop them from making the wrong ones.”

The Bigger Problem

Beyond any fandom bickering over how Sonic should or shouldn’t be characterized, though, this is part of a larger problem that I’ve seen way too frequently in recent years. Adults are engaging with genre fiction for children, and then getting upset when the child protagonists fail to model what they perceive as proper behavior for adults. Particularly, adults are seeing child protagonists learn to solve conflicts nonviolently, or even merely refusing to kill a villain, and interpreting this media as a political playbook for adults telling them that punching Nazis is bad.

That’s not to say that children’s media is never political, of course, or that you can never judge it through a political lens. (Back in the Archie days the direct political allegories were NOT subtle.) But just because some cartoon villains are obvious stand-ins for fascists doesn’t mean that every cartoon with a world-conquering villain is trying to tell you, an adult, how you should deal with fascists, or murderers, or whatever bad faith comparison critics on YouTube and Twitter want to make this time.

This will hopefully be insultingly obvious to most people reading this, but fiction isn’t always literally about the thing it’s depicting, or the closest real world equivalent. In genre fiction, and especially genre fiction for kids, reality is heightened. A fight for the fate of the city or the world or the universe isn’t necessarily about world-scale threats in real life like fascism, or even about real world violent conflicts in general. It’s often more about the emotions than what’s literally happening on screen. In a musical, when the emotions get too strong for words, they break out into song. In an action cartoon, when the emotions get too strong between conflicting characters, they fight. The fantastical violence is just the medium through which the story is conveyed. They trade blows and express their feelings.

Similarly, when the child hero in a series for children saves the day by hugging the right person, or when a villain is redeemed, or when Naruto espouses the power of friendship and uses Talk no Jutsu for the hundredth time, that isn’t telling you, a 30-year-old, that you can go out right now and save America by giving Mitch McConnell a hug. The morals of these stories aren’t necessarily supposed to apply to world-scale conflicts because children are not responsible for saving the world in real life. Instead, the lessons apply more to conflicts that children do deal with. Disputes with friends, or family members, or teachers. Things like that. It’s telling kids that hey, maybe you’ve been mean to people, maybe you’ve acted wrong, but you can learn from your mistakes and do better. That is what lessons about trying to resolve conflicts peacefully, talking about your feelings, empathizing with others, and giving people second chances are supposed to be about. They (usually) aren’t intended as political playbooks for adults telling you not to punch a Nazi, because the people telling these stories are probably hoping that adults aren’t modeling their political behavior after Cartoon Network and Shonen Jump.

But while I generally enjoy this compassionate take on the Sonic series, there is one part of the issue that felt weaker when it comes to the heroes showing compassion towards the villains.

Belle and Metal

If there’s one character from the games that I think Ian has always struggled with more than others, it’s probably Metal Sonic. Of course, not every writer is going to gel with every character, especially on a licensed series where you’re working with someone else’s cast. (Lord knows if I was to write a Sonic series I would play favorites lmao.) And Ian’s definitely put out some great Metal Sonic stories. But he’s also prone to boiling the character down to a simple killer robot for Sonic and co. to repeatedly defeat without any interiority.

Belle has also been a contentious character throughout this season. I’ll reiterate that I think Belle is great, and the big emotional beats with her have been strong. I would say the mixed response to Belle is primarily a matter of pacing, more than anything else. As Evan explained over on her blog, Belle's backstory was originally just going to be a short one-off. When the 2021 Annual was replaced with the Classic Sonic special, Belle’s story got turned into the main overarching subplot connecting the stories of the third season. I do like a lot of the storytelling this allowed for. The buildup to the reveals in the Test Run arc, and her ensuing tearful breakdown; her questioning of her very nature as a Badnik; her heroic moments in Trial by Fire where she’s finally able to prove herself. It’s good stuff! Character arcs like this are why original characters are added to the comics in the first place. But I can also see how the slow and somewhat repetitive rollout of information and emotional beats is a bit much over a year and a half of comics, and it was a little odd to have her stick around as the only consistent main character for every single arc of the season as soon as we met her. But I still enjoyed her arc this season as a whole.

No, where I start to be more mixed on the direction of Belle as a character is this issue. Previously, Belle had made it her mission to try and save as many Badniks as she could. I understand her motivation, and I do think this has potential to be a fun premise. Badniks are EXTREMELY underutilized in the tie-in fiction, and anyone in this corner of the fandom who’s following artists like Hydro knows how fun it is to have Badnik characters around.

But the problem is, of course... if we start to recognize the Badniks that Sonic destroys casually as people, doesn’t that make it wrong for him to destroy them?

I guess it depends on the context, and how it’s executed in the future. Like, Motobud was fine because that’s not just A Motobug, but one that was specifically reprogrammed by Mr. Tinker to be friendly. But what’s Belle’s endgame here? Where is the line drawn between robots that need to be saved and simple obstacles for Sonic to pop in action sequences?

To me, we start to see the cracks in issue #50 with Belle’s attempts to save Metal Sonic. Metal is certainly no stranger to redemption arcs and characters trying to see the good in him - the OVA basically defined him as a character. But still. It’s admirable for Belle to see a robot who’s hurt and want to help, but the sympathy shown for Metal is laying it on a bit thick for me given Ian’s usual characterization of him as a missile with legs. Sonic already let him go once early in the series, but that was specifically because he thought Eggman was gonna remain Mr. Tinker forever at the time, and he and Tails also made sure not to restore his full fighting abilities. (”We’re compassionate, not stupid.”) But in this very different context, with a very different character, it’s just... eh, it didn’t sell me on this as a wise use of Belle’s compassion. If she wants to help the “abandoned” Eggman bots, Metal is very much not one of those. He just happened to have been hurt by Surge when they found him.

Not the end of the world, but it’s the weak part of what’s otherwise an amazing issue, and I worry that Belle showing complete and total sympathy towards every Eggman robot may get old fast. But, like I said, it will depend entirely on the execution. Maybe she’ll only single out the oddballs like herself and Motobud. It may not even be a huge element of the story moving forward, since I know Evan’s outright said Belle would be taking more of a backseat now that her initial arc is completed. (It also seems like Eggman wants to take advantage of the fact that she interfaced with Metal, so her kindness here may backfire...)

If anything, though, I do like the little awkward family reunion where Belle is telling Eggman that she’s done hoping he’ll go back to being Mr. Tinker and is gonna go live her own life and Metal is just kind of standing there because he won’t attack another Eggman creation.

Anyway! I can’t believe I haven’t mentioned the giant robot fight

Starline’s Final Comeuppance

Sonic’s ideals, as explained in his fight with Surge, are also directly contrasted with Starline as he fights Eggman. Sonic stands for personal freedom, for better or worse, but Starline stands for total control, even more so than Eggman. He tries to manipulate people and the very story he exists in to steer everyone in the totalitarian direction he thinks is best. Anything outside of his narrative doesn’t matter. Even as Eggman is fighting him in a giant mech, he’s still under the impression that his actions are justified, that Eggman will be okay with being a pawn in his scheme so long as they get their happy ending ruling the world.

Instead, he loses a sick-ass mech fight, he’s humiliated worse than ever before, and then he dies!

I actually didn’t read it as a death at first because being crushed by rubble is such an easy “death” to write around, and it’s, you know, a comic book. Nobody stays dead in comic books. (We already know Surge survives this issue, regardless of how it looked.) But Ian did, indeed, intend for this to be Starline’s death. He also admits that that’s not entirely up to him since he’s not the only person making story decisions, so I won’t be surprised if he comes back in a year or two. Regardless, as much as I like the character, this is probably the most fitting death Starline possibly could have had. He thought he could outsmart Eggman, and the very nature of the series he’s in. Some readers, too, have accused Ian of writing Eggman as too much of a bumbling oaf in the IDW comics, especially with Starline always pointing out his mistakes. Even the marketing for this arc seems to have played into this, asking if Eggman would “bumble his way to a victory”

All this for the ultimate slam dunk in this issue where Ian definitively reminds us that, even if he can never beat Sonic... no one else can definitively beat Eggman, either.

Because Eggman fucking rules

I said at the top that Starline is damned because he doesn’t understand people as well as he thinks he does. He creates Surge and Kit as dark and deeply broken reflections of Sonic and Tails because he so fundamentally misunderstands how their dynamic works. He thinks he understands Eggman, too, but he doesn’t. He may consider himself Eggman’s #1 fan, but he’s a toxic fanboy with faulty criticisms. He’s CinemaSins. He focuses on the details and the logic, he nitpicks, and he thinks he could do everything better if given the opportunity. He thinks he understands the nature of the series he’s in, but he fails to see the big pictures, the heart. He doesn’t understand why Sonic is really the hero beyond his strength and bravado. He doesn’t understand why Tails is a hero beyond his ability to support Sonic. And he doesn’t understand why, despite his many mistakes, Eggman will always endure as the true big bad of this world. And this leads to his downfall at the hands of his idol

I could say more about this issue and the ones that lead to it! I have obviously already said way too much. I’m gonna cut it off here!

Even with all the hype to live up to, this was an extremely satisfying issue of Sonic. One of the best in a long, long time. This one’s gonna stick with people. I have my quibbles, but it really has it all. Action, humor, drama, heart, stunning artwork, and a whole lot of character work to think about. Can’t really ask for more, can I?

#tkp post #IDW thoughts

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uglypastels · 4 years ago

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New Beginnings // roommate!au

(a/n) I’m sorry @duskholland for coming up with these aus. the good thing about it is, that I have no self control so here it is, the New Girl!roommate!au :) i’m not gonna say it’s great, and also i’v seen like 5 episodes of the show maybe so it’s definitely my own take on the pilot. hope you like it.

word count: 6.3k

warning: swearing, sexual references (the first paragraph is as bad as it gets), dark humour and mentions of murder, sex trafficking - basically reasons why not to move in with strangers you meet off of craigslist. Please be safe and responsible. but it’s all just fluff and humour. Also, possibly some horrible writing cause i couldn’t bother editing this <3

“And when I walked into the bedroom I found him in there, completely naked, with some slut sucking his dick… so basically, that’s why I need a new apartment.” You looked around at the three men in front of you, realising you had zoned out a bit there while telling your story. “Sorry, what was the question?”

“Uhh,” the blonde one, which introduced himself as Harrison earlier, spoke, “Do you have any pets?”

“Oh,” well that was embarrassing, “No, I mean I had a schnauzer when I was younger and I always wanted to get another one but who am I kidding, nothing will ever live up to Mr Snuzzlekins.” For the love of God, shut up! “No, I don’t have any pets.” You felt your entire face heating up. Suddenly you became very aware of a strand of hair that was in front of your face so you pushed it behind your ear

“Mr Snuzzlekins?” The other one, Tom, laughed with a small smile.

“My sister named him,” you lied. You were already embarrassed as it was.

There was a moment of silence where no one knew what to say next, so you decided to break the tension. Awkwardly laughing, you said: “You know, the funny thing is, I didn’t expect you to be… guys.” That was true. When you had been searching through the Craigslist advertisements there had been a lot of applications for housing but you had ignored most of them because they sounded too much like human trafficking scams or some other creeps looking for a way to get a girl. You had particularly found interest in this apartment, not only because of the actual great (and safe looking) location of the building but also because you had thought that the ad was written by a woman. Not that you didn’t think a woman could murder you, but it did bring a bit more security to you to live with someone of your own gender.

Well, as you saw three men sitting in front of you, you had guessed that wrong. They did seem nice enough though. Handsome too. You really hoped they weren’t murderers. They wouldn’t do well in prison… also, your death. Not a favourable outcome in the slightest.

“Why’d you think that?” the third one asked. You had missed his name during the introduction round, but you already felt like you could be good friends with him. His boyish charms made you think he was younger than the other two, though he did have a very small resemblance to Tom. You found it cute how his curls bounced around when he moved his head.

“Well, the ad, it was phrased… very femini-ninely...” That was definitely too many syllables. Could this interview go any worse? No, probably not. But the guys didn’t seem to mind your momentary idiocy.

“Oh, yeah, we had our mum write it for us.” Tom explained, sitting a bit more straight up, “We had been trying to find someone else to live with us ever since our friend Tuwaine moved out, but we kind of suck at advertising ourselves, so yeah-”

“Oh, well that makes sense, yeah.” Their mum wrote it. So they were a family. Brothers? Yeah probably. You didn’t really see how the Harrison guy fit into that since he didn’t look anything like the other two. Shattering blue eyes instead of the warm hazel. Dark blonde hair instead of the reddish-brown. All three had magnificent bone structure that you had to admit, but not in the same way.

“So, what do you guys do?” you decided to ask.

“We’re actors,” Harrison said, pointing at himself and Tom. Since you had no heart palpitating reaction when you first saw them, you could probably safely assume that they were still trying to find their break out role. Harrison pointed at the third of their addition before continuing. “Harry is more of a behind the scenes man, photography and directing, that kind of stuff.”

“That’s… interesting.” You smiled. Were you about to move in with three wannabes? If you were, would it be inevitable that you’d end up paying the rent for all of them because they wouldn’t be able to find gigs? That was a bit harsh. Besides, you could always look for a new place before that happened and move out. And who even said that you could move in, in the first place? “Anything I might have seen you guys in? Or some of your work?” You directed the additional question to...Harry.

Harry. Harrison. Try to remember that.

“I’ve had a few roles on the West End, nothing big yet but once I have a role, it’s at least steady for a bit, you know,” Tom said.

“I’ve mostly been doing headshots for people, so I doubt you’d have seen anything I’ve done.” Harry said. You nodded to his statement.

“And Harrison has been signed with this fashion designer. You might have seen some ads around town.” Modelling. Not another model to live with. You tried not to let your smile fade.

“No, sorry, I don’t think I have. But I’ll be on the lookout.” The grin you put up actually reached your eyes genuinely.

“So what about you?” Harrison was the one to ask, not noticing any change in your demeanour. “What is it that you do?”

“I’m a teacher. I know, not very glamorous or anything- and I might sometimes come home with an abundance of ice-lolly sticks- but it’s good fun and it pays well.” You looked around some more around the apartment. As you focused on the spacious living room of the loft, you wondered how these guys could afford it. Were their rich parents paying for it? Was there secretly asbestos in the walls, making rent not even a problem? Were they going to kill you?

It was a really nice flat. With exposed brick walls and wooden beams at the ceiling, which the guys used cleverly to hang their houseplants from. Even with the large space and the big windows covering the outer walls of the room, it felt very homey. Comfortable.

“I’m sure you already know, but it’s a really great place you guys got.” Compliments always worked, so that was your way to go to ensure you had a roof over your head soon. Feeling a bit more comfortable now, you decided to get up to walk a bit around the room. The reason for that specific action was unknown to you, but you did it.

It had been the first day since your breakup that you had actually made an effort in looking presentable. Hair washed and brushed, you had clothes on that had zero Cheeto dust on it. Of course, since these were guys it probably didn’t even matter to them what you looked like but when you still thought you might be living with other women, you were terrified of being denied because of how you looked or something. That could still happen, but they just didn’t seem like the shallow type. And they had seemed really surprised when you appeared at their front door, as if they didn’t expect a girl to show up either.

All three of them turned their heads as you walked around, following you with their eyes. It was a mix of curiosity and the same fear that you saw in people on competition shows, when they were waiting for the judges’ critique.

You looked out the window to see the view. It was a lovely lookout on the city.

“How come your roommate moved out?” Was it your place to ask? You had no idea. They didn’t seem to mind the question, though.

“He moved in with his girlfriend instead.” Harry was the one to answer. A heart wrenching feeling fell over you. You didn’t know this Tuwaine, or his girlfriend, but a sudden wave of hatred towards them and their happiness overwhelmed you. Why did everyone have to be all happy and in love? It was disgusting. You were sick of it.

“Well, I definitely wouldn’t mind living here.” Somehow you managed to speak out without showing any of your feelings through it. You allowed yourself to walk around to the kitchen island. It was recycled wood with a dark varnish on top, making the light from outside shine on it. You could almost see yourself reflecting in it. Were they this clean or had they no idea how to cook?

“Don’t get me wrong, you seem great, but we don’t really know anything about you yet.” Tom got up and walked up to you. The other two followed his steps. You were now standing on opposite sides of the kitchen island, making you feel as if you were a bartender ready to take their orders.

“There really isn’t much more to tell. I mean, I did just go through a break up, so emotions are uhm… out there. I might be spending the next few weeks watching horrible Hallmark movies, like 4 or 5… a day.” You saw the disgust on Harry’s face and quickly made an attempt at recovery. “But I can do that on my laptop and headphones, so ya know, I’ll be quiet. I’ll be in my room the entire time too, probably, so you might not even notice I’m here.” You tried to sell yourself as un-pathetically as possible. It had come to desperate measures in desperate times. Because, what your (possible) new roommates didn’t know, was that you had already spent the last four weeks looking for a new place, and while there was no luck in that, you had to do with sleeping on the tiny couch of your best friend.

As if he could actually read your mind, Harrison’s next question was: “So, where have you been living the last few days then? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Not at all,” you said, finding large interest in the pattern of the stained wood. Not looking up at the three men, “I’ve been living with my best friend. She’s great but I just don’t think I'm suited for the life she and her supermodel friends have-” Why did you mention the models? Your eyes shot up to Harrison’s. But it was Harry’s and Tom’s that were wide.

“Supermodels?” Tom coughed out. You nodded, having leaned in with your elbows on the table, looking rather unimpressed. The way Tom’s hands grabbed for the sleeves of his roommates did not go unnoticed by you. Before you could say anything, he excused himself and the others and they had disappeared into the corridor. Earlier on they had told you that was the way to the bathroom. They were trying to whisper, but weren’t doing a great job at it. You could hear every word perfectly well.

“What are we thinking, guys?” Tom said, closing the door behind him. When he turned around, Harrison and his brother were rubbing their arms, on the spots where Tom had been a bit too rough on his grip. Harry sat down on the edge of the bathtub, while Harrison decided to remain standing,eventually leaning against the tiled wall. There was a bright light in the small bathroom, but the vintage green tiles made it all look much darker.

“She seems nice.” Harrison spoke up finally. “But I don’t know, she’s obviously a… she. Won’t that be weird?”

“What do you think, Tom?” Harry asked his older brother, who, even though had been the one to pull them into the bathroom, had not planned on saying much. “You’re the one with experience in living with a woman. So try to cancel out those supermodels for a sec.”

“I don’t know,” Tom bit the inside of his cheek. Before he had moved in with his brother and best friend, he had been living with his then girlfriend, Stacey. They had been together for a while until she had decided that maybe, this wasn’t meant to be after all. Unlike you, though, the apartment had been in his name so he had a place to stay, but he just couldn’t get himself to live alone in a place that was intended on being lived in by two people. So, he moved out.

“I mean… every girl is different, so I can’t say shit.”

“I’m really not that bad!” you shouted from the other side of the door, immediately hiding your mouth behind your hands. Now they knew you were listening to their private conversation. The bathroom door opened and Tom’s head popped out. He saw you sitting on the couch.

“Could you- could you hear all of that?” he pointed back into the bathroom. You nodded, still covering your mouth, scared you would say something else embarrassing. But the guys seemed to be just as abashed. One by one they walked out and came to sit on their basically appointed seats on the sofa. Did they have their own claimed seats? Would you need to be prepared to only sit in one spot of the room forever? Shit, they had all the seats with the window view…

“So,” Harry said, “when you said supermodels-” but he never got to finish his sentence because Harrison slapped him across the back of his head. You suppressed a small laugh. It didn’t go unnoticed by Tom, who reciprocated the expression. This, in turn, was missed by you. You only looked in his direction a second later, when the smile had slightly faded already.

“Thanks for saying that whole ‘every girl is different’ thing. Not saying I can’t cook… even if that is going along with the stereotype, but I wouldn’t exactly want to be accepted to live here as a nanny… not that I think you guys can’t take care of yourselves! I mean just look at-” you eyes wandered around them just for a second before coming back on the right track. “- at the apartment. What I mean is- uhh.”

“Guys are dicks?” Harrison suggested.

“Yes! No! No, of course not, well some. But I don’t think you guys are. You seem really nice. I’ve just had… experiences with living with other types of guys and that really was not the planned outcome now that I think about it and I don’t know why I can’t shut up now because I have no idea why I’m telling you all this.”

“Is this Spencer that we’re talking about here?” Tom asked and your eyes shot to his direction, shocking even him. The name had become somewhat of a trigger for you in the last few days. At the last moment, you realised you had actually mentioned his name yourself to them during your introductory story, so that spared you a good bit of humiliation there. You decided to keep quiet. You all did. Great, because this day had not gone awkward enough. Maybe you could sink into the surface of the ground and die there? Then there would be no more reason to find any living space. It would all be over. Yeah, that really didn’t sound too bad even.

“So, do you wanna see your room?” Harrison broke the silence and his words surprised everyone, even him. You took longer than it should have to comprehend what he had just suggested.

“What? Uhh, yes! Yes! Oh my god, that would be fantastic. Thank you.”

“Great,” Harrison clapped his hands on his thighs before getting up. Then he extended one of those hands to you. He led you to the corridor opposite the bathroom, the third door on the left. The door had some scraped paint residue on it and you could see a poor attempt was made at pulling off the scotch tape that held up posters on it or something? It opened up to a room. It wasn’t big or small. The wall color was a nice beige, a bit of a sandy, almost peachy color. You could definitely work with it.

The guys let you take it in, but also took that moment to give each other death glares, most of them directed at Harrison.

“What exactly were you thinking?” Tom asked him, this time properly whispering. For extra measure he extended his neck to look into the hallway to see if you were walking out of the room again.

“Actually, I was thinking about how you had showed up at my door at 2 am when Stacey dumped you.”

“She didn’t dump me. No one was dumped.” Tom denied like always.

“No, you were definitely dumped, mate.” Harry said, not even making an attempt at hiding the amusement in his voice.

“Anyway,” Harrison ignored the interaction between brothers, “I thought of you and how miserable you were then. She’s probably going through that same thing.” If not worse, he wanted to add, but he also didn’t want to edge Tom’s ego any further. “So, let’s give her a chance.”

Tom still didn’t seem to be entirely sure. He raised his eyebrow, thinking. He looked once more at the corridor, expecting you to walk out any moment, but you still were in the room. What were you even doing there? The place was entirely empty.

“Fine,” he gave in, “but if she turns out to be completely psychotic, you’re kicking her out, Haz.” He immediately noticed the wince in Harry’s face. Had he mistimed his words?

Yes, he had, because you were standing right behind him now. The sight of you made his heart stop for a good second as he went pale.

“Fucking Christ,” Tom gasped, “if you live here, you’re getting a bell. None of that sneaking around.”

“Are we talking service, hand, cow, or the kinky cat collar type?” you smirked, knowing you had gotten him completely flustered at your joke. While Harrison and Harry burst out in laughter, Tom didn’t move a muscle. His cheeks and neck, however, had started to turn a lovely rosy colour. He opened his mouth a bit, just to close it up again as he changed his mind.

_______________________

While you had told them that you would be spending your days crying into a pint of ice cream while watching movies, reality was much more different from that. It was true that you barely left your room, but that was because you were too busy unpacking all your things out and setting up your room. The guys were nice enough to help you bring up the furniture sets and the boxes, which had been lovingly left at the curb of the building by the people from the moving company.

That ordeal had taken up most of Saturday. Your first task was to set up the bed, which Harrison helped you with. You tried to tell him that you didn’t need help, but your words were futile the second you almost dropped a wooden plank on yourself. The flatpacks were easy enough to understand, and unlike what you had done there, you weren’t the worst when it came to building, so all the furniture was set up by the end of Sunday. It meant that you could spend the rest of the week opening boxes and making your room really yours.

But Monday also meant work, so you only had the afternoons and nights to do it. Together with the fact that you had to leave early for work, meant that the guys really barely saw you. The only sign of your presence would be the music you were playing from your room while doing the unpacking.

It was the fourth hour of your One Direction sing-a-long that Tom walked into the living room. Harrison popped his head up from his book to look at his friend. He did not look happy.

“Dude,” he said. The one word already evoked all that Tom wanted to say, but Harrison loved to annoy him.

“What?” he opened up his book again, pretending not to really pay any attention to Tom. This was made harder when Tom sat down next to him.

“If I hear What Makes You Beautiful one more fucking time-”

“Then what?” Harrison still kept his eyes on the words on the pages, not taking in a single word.

“You have to do something. I can’t take it.”

“Why do I have to do something?” Harrison closed his book with his finger still between the pages and looked at Tom, just in time to see him narrow his eyes in annoyance.

“Really? So do you wanna see your room y/n?!” His voice turned higher as he mocked Harrison’s words, following it up by a gagging sound. “You’re the one that got us here. Now, go solve it.”

“I really don’t mind it. If you’re so bothered, go talk to her yourself.” And with that, Harrison went back to his book. This time actually reading the words. It was enough for Tom to know that the conversation was over. He didn’t even try to argue. He gave Harrison one more glare and got up. While walking to your room, he noticed that Harry had actually been in the kitchen this whole time, listening in on their conversation. He tried to give his little brother a look, hoping for support, but he didn’t get any of that. Harry disappeared behind the doors of a cupboard and Tom went into the corridor, still rolling his eyes.

When he reached your door, he couldn’t hear you singing anymore. It was just One Direction coming from the speakers. Now, he enjoyed the lads just as much as the next guy, but after a while he just needed it to stop. And coming in in five hours was definitely a while.

He knocked on the door. There was a sound that resembled you. A bit of a murmur that formed no particular word. It didn’t sound like a denial though, so slowly, in case you didn't want him to come in, he opened the door.

You were quick in decorating the room. Only a few days ago it was still empty and a bit cold looking, now the walls were covered with posters and pictures. You had used one entire wall just for your bookcase. There didn’t seem to be an order on the shelves just yet, but you left that for the last thing to do since the rest of the room seemed a bit more important at the moment.

The bed was unmade, with several pillows thrown about over it. Behind it the headboard, which simultaneously served as a shelf. Stuffed animals and a few more books were strewn about. Overhead were fairy lights, matching the ones on the doorframe and on the bookcase. Together with the lamp that was on the desk, it was the only light in the room. Since it was dark, it gave the room a warm and cozy atmosphere.

But the first thing that Tom noticed when he walked into the room was the smell. Coconut? It wasn’t overwhelming, just strong enough to be pleasantly surprising and noticeable.

You were standing on a small step ladder, which you usually used to reach the upper shelf of your bookcase (high walls gave the opportunity for more shelves, which you could never say no to). You were in the middle of hanging up a picture on the wall as the song from your speaker continued.

Can we take the same road, two days in the same clothes-

You were holding on to the frame with both hands, trying to centre it on the nail in the wall, but every time you pulled away, the frame would slant to the side.

And I know just what she’ll say if I can make all this pain go-

Tom saw you get fed up with the picture, throwing it on the bed with a groan. That’s when you looked up at him. The dim and soft light was shining just at the angle that when he looked at you, he could see the tear streaks down your face. You had definitely been crying. You were still sniffling a bit when you stepped down to the floor.

“Am I too loud? Sorry.” you immediately reached out to your phone, which was connected to the speaker, and pressed down the volume. Then you decided to just turn it off completely. Maybe you’ve had enough of it for now.

“Uhh, a bit, but it’s fine. We like 1D here, so.” Tom suddenly felt like a real dick when he saw the small, apologetic, smile you gave him. You were holding the speaker in your hands as you sat on the bed, staring at it, a bit lost, and Tom wasn’t sure if he was supposed to leave or not.

“Are you okay?” he asked. You had clearly forgotten he was still there, because you looked up looking a bit frazzled.

“No.” You said honestly. What would be the point in pretending? You couldn’t fool anyone even if you tried. Misery was the only thing feeling your once Spencer-filled void. Ugh, the sound of his name, even just in your thoughts, made you want to scream. Unconsciously, and a bit to Tom’s amusement, you had grabbed one of your pillows and started to hit your fist right in the middle of it. Your hits were getting harder and rougher.

“Ever considered boxing?” He brought you out of your haze. You looked down at the pillow, seeing the sad looking indent on the kitten-patterned pillow. Tom took the pillow away from you and fluffed it out to its normal shape before putting it back.

“It’s just been hard, you know,” you said, more to yourself than to him and Tom understood that. He knew what you meant. He had been in that same position not too long ago and seeing you like this did definitely bring back some of those feelings he had tried to suppress back then.

“Like, I thought he was the one. And I know it sounds so stupid, I don’t even believe in that whole soulmate crap, but he was it for me. For the first time, I could actually imagine myself enduring nine months of hell to have a kid with him, sorry if I’m being TMI.”

“You’re good,” he said. He also understood that feeling. Maybe not in the exact, child bearing way, but he could resonate with that whole it thing. He had felt the same way about Stacey. He had never told anyone this, and was never planning on telling anyone, but the day before they broke up, he had been out in the city looking for an engagement ring. It had come unplanned. He wasn’t thinking yet about actually proposing. But he had been in town for an audition and on his way home he saw the jeweller. It was the first time he had ever thought of it, and it seemed right, so he walked in and just looked around.

“You must think I’m so pathetic though. Crying for weeks about some douchebag.”

“Well, you’ve only lived here for five days, so I wouldn’t know about that.” He smirked. You groaned again and fell with your head on a big fluffy pillow.

“But no,” he said eventually, “I don’t think you’re pathetic.”

“Thanks.”

_______________________

Another week had gone by and your mother had somehow found out about your new living arrangement. So, the last 20 minutes you had been sitting on the couch, listening to her yelling.

“No mum, I’m fine.” you said, for what felt like the 50th time. Right at that moment, Harry showed up in the living room, making his way from a shower to his bedroom, only a towel around his waist. His usually curly hair was a wet mop, covering most of his face.

“You don’t even know them!” your mother shrieked.

“Harry, are you going to murder me?” you asked as he walked by, covering the microphone of your phone. Without missing a beat, or looking down at you, he answered with a snappy “Yup,” and walked into his own room.

“They’re really nice guys, mum.” You told her. It took you another ten minutes to convince her not to come over tomorrow (or ever, in general). The conversation had taken an abrupt turn when suddenly, she invited you to a video call. Knowing that if you didn’t answer it, you would never hear the end of it, you accepted the call. Your mothers face, or better said, forehead, showed up on screen. You tried to cover your chin as best as you could with the collar of your sweater since you were too tired to hold up your phone at a reasonable angle.

“Hi mom,” you sighed.

“Where are they?!” she said, looking around as if she could actually see more than what your camera showed. You were going to lie that they had gone out, but right at that second Harry walked out of his room. Thankfully he was dressed, but his hair was still a bit wet. His shoulder was just visible in the corner of your screen and you tried to move to the side, but your mother had noticed him already.

“Who’s that?” Why did your mother always have to be so loud?

“Uhh, that’s Harry.”

He looked up at the mention of his name. You were scared that it would make him uncomfortable if you talked about him to your mom, it was making you uncomfortable for sure, but instead he jumped up at the opportunity and the next second he was leaning on the couch, almost over you, and smiling at your phone.

“Hi.” He waved to your mother. His quick movements made his hair move around, giving you a nice first row experience of the fountain show coming from it. You wiped the water off your face.

“What’s your name again?” Your mother asked.

“Harry, Ma’am. Harry Holland.” He said with a smile. You both knew that when your mother had asked him his name, she meant his full name. She wouldn’t be able to make any deep research, but it was in case you suddenly went missing, of course.

“How old are you?” your mother went on with the third degree, glaring at your roommate at each question. Harry answered it all with a big and charming smile. You held the camera, hoping the couch could eat you already. This could not get any more embarrassing, could it?

Oh, it could. Because half way through, your sister had shown up and sat down next to your mom. She didn’t say anything, but suddenly a text notification popped up on the top of your screen.

Who’s the hot guy?

Your sister was not imbecile, yet she loved to act like it. Of course, Harry saw the text and erupted in a loud laugh, startling your poor mother. As the timer on the call was reaching 30 minutes you decided to say your goodbyes and end the conversation. Harry was still laughing.

“So… you’re sister…” he said once calming down.

“Don’t even think about it. She’s 17.” you glared at him and he immediately shut up, which you appreciated.

“Well, your mom seems nice,” he eventually said. You knew he didn’t mean it in that way, but in the context of your previous exchange, it didn’t sound great. Now you were the one laughing.

“That is not what I meant!” he shouted out, grabbing a throw pillow and hitting you on the arm with it lightly.

“Jesus, calm down. I know.” You grabbed the pillow from him. You were both in a fit of giggles by then. It took a moment to catch a breath and by that point, your head was actually hurting.

“So do you think I’m hot?” Harry asked, raising his brow like the cheeky fuck he is. You just rolled your eyes and hit him with that same pillow. Maybe a bit too hard, because it knocked him off balance and when you looked up, he was no longer leaning on the backrest of the sofa.

“Oops. Sorry.”

_______________________

Something you had to learn the hard way when it came to living with the guys was that you had to lock your doors. They weren’t doing it on purpose, but they had a tendency to forget to knock when walking into the bathroom, or even your bedroom. Specifically, Harrison.

Usually, you’d consider him to be the more logical of the three, but that didn’t really mean that much. He was just as much of an idiot as the two Holland brothers at times.

The bathroom incident had happened during your first week of living with the boys. You were taking a shower. The loud water had cancelled out the sound of the door opening so you didn’t know that while you were washing your hair, Harrison had walked into the bathroom.

In his defence, he thought it was Tom showering, not you.

You had not been made aware yet of the honourable fifth member of the household: a life size Nicolas Cage cardboard cut-out. So, when you pushed the shower curtain aside, and were met eye to eye with Nick Cage himself, you screamed bloody murder, almost falling in the bathtub. The door opened to horrified Harrison, realising his mistake. He realised it as soon as he heard the screams, which clearly did not belong to Tom.

But another scream followed, which was shorter and more specific, followed by a “Fuck!” made him feel like something else had happened. It sounded like you had gotten hurt. So, obviously, he walked in to see if you were alright.

You were, in fact, alright, and seeing him standing there, eyes wide as he saw your naked body, you screamed again for him to get out. He took a second to grab Nick and pull him out of the room, mumbling a few sorrys, and closed the door behind him.

Flushed, slightly angry, and with a pounding heart, you dried off and got dressed. Unlike the guys, you were never one to parade half naked around the house on your way from the bathroom to your bedroom.

You walked out, a pile of old clothes in your hands, to see Harrison. He looked like a puppy that might be about to be smacked with a newspaper on his nose. Usually you were very much against that disciplinary practice, but Harrison was no puppy, and you had been scared shitless.

“y/n, I’m so sorry.” he apologised as he followed you to your room. You were telling him that it was alright, and actually quite funny, but he really wanted you to know that it was an accident and that he didn’t mean to scare you like that or walk in on you naked or linger his eyes on you for that long.

“Seriously, Haz, it’s fine. Shit happens… just, don’t walk into the bathroom anymore when I shower. Or ever actually, if I’m in there, don’t.”

“Yeah, of course.”

And he kept to the promise. You didn’t get any other sudden visits in the bathroom, but it was not the last time that Harrison saw you naked.

You were all going out to a bar one night, and a bit shamefully, you were taking a bit longer than usual with getting ready. The guys had been waiting for a while already, and you were trying to hurry up, but you just had no idea what to wear. Finally you had found yourself a dress that might make you get a bit lucky that night. You weren’t even planning on hooking up, but the attention was appreciated. In your, still not exactly over your break-up situation, it was actually needed.

In the meantime, the guys were deciding which one of them had to go and tell you to hurry up. It was getting late and they needed their time to get completely smashed. And while waiting for you, getting knock out drunk was definitely not happening.

Harrison drew the figurative short straw. He thought you were doing your make-up or something, being aware how much time that can take sometimes. He never imagined opening the door and seeing you standing in the middle of your room, only in a pair of panties. You didn’t see him at first because your dress was over your head as you tried to pull it on. Harrison closed the door before you saw anything. But you could hear the thud of the door closing.

You pulled the dress over your body, grabbed a pair of matching heels and put them on as you got out of your room. There you saw Harrison. His red cheeks indicated that he was the one who had walked into your room. Tom and Harry were standing at the door. They could see you walk out and their eyes had gone a bit wide. Clearly, the dress was serving its purpose.

Having already gone through this whole embarrassing scenario already, you decided to spare Harrison. You have him a soft smile.

“Could you help me zip up?” you asked, turning your back and pushing the hair away from the zipper.

“Uhh, yeah, yeah, of course.” He was so flustered. It was actually adorable. You could feel his hands on you as he grabbed the two sides of the dress and the zipper and slowly, carefully, pulled it up.

“Thank you,” you said when he was done. He didn’t respond, his face still as red as a stop light. And it didn’t get any better when you kissed him on the cheek.

It was definitely interesting to be living with them, but you couldn’t complain about a single thing… except for the laundry, maybe.

The END

> Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed

> please leave a comment or ask with your thoughts. i love reading them and let me know if you want to see more of this au cause i really enjoyed writing it :)

>masterlist and link to taglist in bio

tagging:

@definitely-not-black-cat @artemisiaarm @nerdyhockeygirl @miraclesoflove @justasmisunderstoodasloki @thefridgeismybestie @m19friend @creative-happenings @parker-holland-osterfield @fanficparker @fanficscuziranout @peterparkoure @xxtomxo @happywolves81 @captainbuckyy @tra-gicx @qxeen-of-hearts @varshavisuu @kangaroobunny @petersunderoos96 @the-lost-fairy-tale @nerd-domland @sleepybesson @rissa067 @the-queen-procrastinator @scarletteclipze @screeching-student-unknown @spiderrrling @lonelyavenger @tomhollanders2013 @miraclesoflove @playinonaloop @queenoflostspirits @roses-hxlland @hereiamhereigo @sunnydays0803 @averyfosterthoughts @moorehollandplz @beiroviski @you-bleed-just-toknowyouarealive @peterparkerbabyyy @multifandomlover21 @lmaotshollandd @badbitchydecisions @tikapollak @awesomehritz @madzleigh01 @oh-what-a-beautiful-parker @taciturnspidey @quaksonhehe @mountainsforwords @harryfobter @peepeeparkerr @viagracex @ethereal-beauty-p @slytherin-chaser @worldoftom @moonysoftt @peeterparkr @wazzupmrstark @saintlavrents @peachybloomss @blissfulparker @chloecreatesfictions-archive @fallinfortom @bitchydecisions @okokimfreakingoutahh @rxsydreams @musicalkey @joyleenl @multifandomdoodles121 @awkwardfangirl2014 @marvelouspeterparker @siriuslyslyslytherinyes @lunalovegoodsgirlfriendyes @bitchydecisions @okokimfreakingoutahh @quinjetboi @sheranatic111 @zspideyy @lizzyosterfield @dahliasbroken @parkerlovebot @itstaskeen @sarcasticallywitty15 @sluttytears @lilhoodhippie @theliterarymess @marlenetough @tomsirishgirlx @hiiii-i @wonderfulfluffer @dumbledorrs @hollandstea @roseke @outshineallthestars @spideyspeaches @ieatchildrenfordessert

#tom holland au #roommate au #tom holland x reader #harrison osterfield x reader #harry holland x reader #tom holland fanfiction #harry holland fanfiction #harrison osterfield fanfiction #fanfiction #fluff

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starlessea · 4 years ago

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Ultimate Guide to Writing Accents and Dialogue

I recently saw an amazing post on how to keep your characters ‘in character,’ and I wanted to make my own about writing accents, dialects, and overall just creating dialogue that suits the people you are trying to portray.

I’m a language/linguistic student, so here are a few tips I think you should consider!

1) Standard Pronunciation:

First you need to think about where your story is set, and what is the standard dialect of the majority of your characters compared to your main character. What I mean by this is, if your story is set in the South, and all of your characters therefore have that Southern drawl, then it becomes the STANDARD, and has nothing to contrast it unless you introduce something.

If your main character (your POV) has a different accent, then make it NOTICABLY different from the standard of your story. It’s good to have accent variety, otherwise all of your characters start to sound the same.

2) Constructing your Vocabulary:

Next, you’ll want to consider the vocabulary of your character. Ask yourself questions about them: are they educated, what was their upbringing like, do they work in a field with specific vocabulary? You can strip it back even further than that - when you think of your character how would you describe them? Could you see a badass biker using long, sophisticated diction on a regular basis? Or an old woman swearing like a sailor?

Don’t get me wrong, these are very much stereotypes, and often the most interesting characters are created by subverting your expectations. But use these questions as a springboard for your characters. If you’re writing fanfiction, and know the characters well already from a movie / tv-show, then try to IMAGINE them saying your lines to see if they are something they would actually say.

However, also note that the register of your characters is bound to change given the situation. Obviously, someone is more likely to use heightened vocabulary in a certain setting - e.g. within a classroom - and more casual language elsewhere - e.g. in a bar. See below for such a distinction:

Formal: Yes/No

Informal: Yeah/Nah

3) Orthography, Syntax and Morphology:

Okay, so those words might look a little scary, but don’t worry. Orthography is just a fancy way of saying spelling (specifically, the standard spelling system of a time/place and how we might see a character deviate from it), syntax is word order, and morphology is how words are formed (such as grammar, inflections etc.). I’ll give some examples of what I mean.

Orthography: I’m going to use Daryl Dixon from TWD for reference (keywords: Southern drawl, redneck, country). For Daryl, some words he says I write phonetically (according to how he says them), so that the spelling matches the phonology. E.g.:

Standard: “Take care of yourself.”

Daryl: “Take care of yerself.”

I tend to do this alot with pronouns, such as ‘you/ya,’ ‘your/yer.’ But I also use the long, standard forms for variety and emphasis - e.g. ‘you’re right.’

Syntax and Morphology:

Often, a character will use different syntax or morphological patterns that we aren’t used to. Often, non-native speakers are portrayed using types of English we often categorise as ‘incorrect’ - but are just non-standard. You can find good examples of this within Creole literature.

For example, past-tense verbs are usually conjugated in the present-tense form:

‘we was / if I was you’ instead of ‘we were / if I were you’

“I go now.”

“She gives it to me yesterday.”

Unfortunately, a lot of these conventions are also stereotypically used to portray characters who are uneducated - think of Joe or young Pip from Charles Dickens’ Great Expectations, for example.

But, you also want to avoid STEREOTYPING your character too much, as that can come across as amateur or cliche. What I mean by this is don’t over-rely on certain patterns - don’t overuse them. It’s okay to have variety, even if its with the SAME character. Just do it in a way that fits your overall construction. You can even change these speech patterns DURING your story to represent the development of your character, or them picking up an accent, or being around different people.

4) Apostrophe and Negatives:

Apostrophe: These can be used to mark a number of things - such as abbreviations, contractions, possession etc. If your character has a certain accent, they might roll certain words into one another - not stressing specific consonants, for example. We can see this in ‘C’mon.’

Alot of abbreviations are now recognised slang words, too. For instance:

C’mon = Come on

‘Cos = Because

Lil’ = Little

‘Ma = Mama / mother

Ol’ = Old

Think about whether certain abbreviations and slang matches the register of your character, as well as their location. For example, slang words like ‘cuppa’ (cup of tea) are usually expected in a British setting.

Also, remember that the apostrophe goes in the position of the letter/letters you are getting RID OF, which is not always necessarily in the place of the contraction. E.g:

‘Do not’ contracts to ‘donot’ which abbreviates to the standard ‘don’t.’

Going back to my Daryl Dixon example, other common abbreviations I use for him include the following:

‘Ing’ contraction - walking becomes walkin’.

Anyone, anything - becomes ‘nyone, ‘nything

Pronoun contractions - her becomes ‘er.

Connective contractions - and becomes an’ or n’.

Other contractions don’t even need apostrophes - such as ‘gonna,’ ‘gotta,’ ‘sorta,’ ‘wanna.’

Negatives:

Even though Standard English doesn’t use double negatives anymore, we can use them in our writing of characters as an indicator of their background or dialect. They can also be used for emphasis.

Coming back to Daryl, he tends to use a lot of double negative constructions:

“I ain’t nobody’s bitch.”

“Don’t want nothin’.”

“Ain’t go no reason to.”

If you want to get even more complex, you can have a proclitic negative (where the negative attaches itself to the verb - e.g. don’t), and contract it further so you get a multiple contraction. For example:

You (pronoun), Are (verb, form of ‘be’), Not (negative) = you ain’t = y’aint.

“Y’aint never done shit for me!”

Because this is a three way contraction, it becomes a bit confusing where to put the apostrophe - is it y’aint or y’ain’t? To be honest, it becomes mostly your choice after that (stylistic).

5) Loanwords and Imposition:

Loanword: This is a word borrowed INTO the native language FROM another one. For example, think of an American speaker using a French word or phrase in a sentence.

“Thought we were all takin’ a laissez faire approach now?”

Think of how this changes the sentence, and the impact it is going for. French is still seen as a prestigious language, so it can be used to heighten register, or can be used to mock/patronise/be sarcastic in a certain context (as in this example).

Imposition: This is when a speaker uses a word FROM their native language in the context of a non-native language they are speaking. It has connotations of power and agency.

For example, a French speaker might use a French term in a conversation, despite it having a perfectly good English counterpart. This might be in order to demonstrate that a character is trying to show off, or is reminding their peers of their background or status.

6) Non-verbal Indicators:

This is more on the border of style, but I thought it was worth mentioning. Sometimes, the descriptive words you use can reflect a character's dialect. An obvious example can be how ‘drawled’ is associated with a Southern accent.

Although it might sound cliche, you should think about the vocabulary you want to use in order to describe a certain accent. If we were to compare perhaps Scottish or Welsh with French, for instance, you would be able to hear the distinct sound differences. The former are more harsh, guttural, have a lot of sounds that come from the back of the throat, whilst the latter is nasal and flows more.

Use your descriptions to emphasise this. Look up synonyms that describe the WAY in which your characters are pronouncing the words. Are they guttural, harsh, gravelly, thick? Or are they soft, fluid, smooth?

Anyway, I’ve rambled enough. Good luck writing, everyone!

Disclaimer: Even though this post is long, it’s actually really basic on a linguistic level - so I hope no true linguists read this haha. These are just some personal observations, but I hope they help!

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headcans-oneshots-and-stuff · 4 years ago

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Club ‘Illusion’

Fandom: DC x Marvel Pairing: Avenger x Batfam | Reader x Loki Word count: 3k (yes I can still write things over 1.5k words) Summay: With your hero work taking up most of your time you decide to find an outlet - that outlet turns out to be your own soon to be opened club. On the V.I.P. list for that evening? Two of the most important groups of people in your life. The only problem: they have yet to meet each other, not to mention the little fact that you’ve been keeping not just the club a secret... Requested by a universal fantastic Anon: If requests are still open, can I request a BatBoys x reader x Avengers where both teams meet through reader and fight because they were talking about which team reader likes more? Pairing would be your choice.

“Where does this go, boss?” a man in a dungaree holding a box full of musical equipment, chords and the like asked you and interrupted the conversation you were having with the DJ. “Bring it up these stairs there and then set it onto the black clothed table, Marianne will be there in a minute, could you help her set it up? “Sure thing boss,” the man nodded and trudged over to the direction you had waved him to. You turned back to Marianne - the mentioned DJ - who had been your friend for years and she was the first person you had hired when you had decided to take the advice of your Avengers issued therapist and find an outlet for your creativity and passion outside of your time-consuming hero work all over the planet and the universe. So you decided to use your funds from years of getting paid by Tony Stark and Bruce Wayne (even though you continued telling them you didn’t want their money) to do something fun and - in the spirit of a certain green-themed archer - open a nightclub. You had kept everything under wraps, the only people knowing about it were the contractors, decorators and Marianne and they all pledged secrecy, but tonight you would lift the metaphorical curtain. With the Avengers and Waynes (including non-Wayne-named) invited and the news about this new club opening all over social media doing the rest you were positively sure that tonight would be a great night. “Y/N?” Marianne’s voice ripped you out of your daydreams and you had to shake your head free of other thoughts and focus back onto the matter at hand, with last touches still having to be made. “Uhm- yeah, sorry, I was lost in thoughts.” “Don’t worry, I’m sure everything will go just fine. Look around you, this place is amazing, everyone did such an amazing job,” she complimented and you couldn’t help but follow her advice and actually take a look around.The room was very spacious and even though it was almost empty except the worker getting ready for tonight and a few others who helped set some stuff up. In the middle was a lower dance area with small sets of steps leading up, the floor in a chess pattern, but neon techni-coloured instead of black and white, all around that area were booths to sit in and on the far end of the room, a bit off of the dance-ground were two circular bars that were fully stocked with every drink you could ever need or want. On the other end was a stage for life-performances and ten feet above that was a sort of balcony that served as the DJ-booth with a view over the entire club. And yet again on the other side, above the bars, was a V.I.P. room which was a bit more soundproof and where a conversation could be actually held, with a one-way-mirror facing the club. The way the lights reflected off the surfaces and the sound carried through the space really confirmed what Marianne had said, the place was pretty amazing. “You’re right, you’re right, I’m sorry,” you took a deep calming breath and smiled. “Yes I am, but now we gotta get going, I’ll be up in the booth if you need me. You better give the final briefing to the staff,” she instructed before turning around and walking away. Deciding that taking her advice was the best course of action you went to go to the staff room, when Marianne called out to you yet again, shouting after you: “Don’t forget that you gotta be getting ready in an hour, your special guest should be arriving around then.”

The evening was starting to greet the people and the sun had started to disappear a few minutes ago when a group of five and a group of six gathered before a clearly newly constructed building - a club - with the name ‘Illusion’ in enlightened letters on the front. A long line of interested people, mostly young adults around 25, stretched before what seemed to be the entrance, but it seemed to still be closed. Both of the groups looked around a little bit confused, but they didn’t notice each other, or at least found nothing suspicious about the other. Now, if you were to take a very close look at both of these groups beside each other you’d find a lot of similarities, like - for example - the redeemed ‘bad-guy’ who now acted as professional sarcastic commentator, the goofball with a history in circus, the genius, philanthropist, playboy billionaire and the bad-ass tech-savvy red-head. Not to mention all of their past-time ‘hobbies’. And yet, with all these great intellect and talent collected in front of the club, they did not seem to be able to figure out what they were doing there or that there was another group in just about the same situation. The doors to the club opened and a bouncer and two servers walked out, the bouncer stationating himself before the entrance and starting to check people in, and the two servers looking around for a second before catching sight of the groups. They exchanged a few words before each of them walked over to the collection of people. The group from New York was brought over to the front entrance, allowed to skip the line and enter the club, while the Gotham-group was brought in through the back-entrance, but even though the place where they entered the club was different, they were yet both stil led to the same room, up above the bars behind a one-way-mirror.

You had changed into your sparkle-y, y/f/c outfit with make-up that would glow in the ultraviolet light that would shine all over the club later and your hair in a fashionable hairdo, perfectly prepared for your great night, with Marianne’s outfit mirroring yours just in different colours. With a clipboard you made your last round through the different areas, checking in with your staff and manager to make sure that everything would go flawless and that they could come to you with questions or if they needed help - if necessary you yourself would change into the gender-neutral uniform and start serving people. In the end the last area you had to check before meeting your special guests in the V.I.P. area was the DJ booth. “Everything good?” you asked, enjoying the last moments of relative silence before the booming music would start as you leant over the balcony railing and eyed your own little business. “Yes, I tried it out during soundcheck earlier while you were getting dressed, it’s some sweet equittement you got here, a Dream,” Marianne sighed in bliss and you could see how happy she was to be able to work with this equipment that had certainly cost enough to deserve that demeanor from her. “You know, if you like it this much, I could use a full-time DJ,” you tried to mention as nonchalant as possible, but you could feel her piercing, unbelieving gaze in your neck. “Are you serious? I thought you had employed one over a month ago. I thought tonight was a one-time-thing.” “Oh well, I did talk to one but then I listened to some of his stuff and compared to you it’s like a ten years old project on garage band. But don’t worry, I get it, you’re right. I’m sure you have way better gigs lined up left and right, I’ll find someone,” you shrugged, a little bit disappointed that Marianne didn’t seem even remotely interested in working full-time, only to be stopped when she grabbed your shoulders and began to almost shake you. “Are you kidding, I would love to work here full-time!!! This job would be a dream: the equipment, the atmosphere, my employer! DJ’s would kill for an opportunity like this. That’s why I was so confused, I thought you’d have plenty of better DJs lining up for this job,” she gushed before hugging you close and almost sobbing with happiness and thanking you for this opportunity. You agreed that you’d talk the details over later before telling her to start the music since people started to walk in and you could see a certain group of Heroes being led by one of your bar-women walking towards the left stairs to the V.I.P. room and another group of vigilantes led by one of the security-members being brought to the elevator on the right side to exactly the same room. “Okay, I gotta go, Got me some guests waiting,” you winked at Marianne who just waved you off, too immersed in her element. With quick steps and a happy smile you walked along the side of the room and followed where you saw the Avengers walk up, a little skip in your step. Honoring your word, both groups had been brought into the V.I.P. area which was big enough for them to both sit inside it without having to sit together, with the security guard taking position at the wall and the bar-women at the small, private bar. Another calming sigh later you opened the door and walked into the room immediately catching the eyes of all occupants of the room and as you nodded at your two employees in thanks, both groups of superheroes had stood up to greet you, seemingly only now realizing the presence (or rather the reason of the presence) of each other. “Hello guys, it’s so nice to have you here,” you greeted all 11 with a big gesture before mentioning to the window, “So, what do you think?” Confused eyes found you and they looked between each other and you, only one pair standing out, but seemingly not ready to reveal themselves properly yet. “It looks amazing,” Stephanie, who somehow managed to look perfectly club-fitting even in her casual clothes with her blond hair laying over her shoulder in a braid, and jumped towards you and engulfed you in a sisterly hug like she always did, “How did you get us in? I saw the adverts for this place all over social media and the line was enormous. Do you know the owner?” You held back a chuckle and laid your head to the side. “You could say so,” you gave her a cheeky smile that she couldn’t quite decipher, before turning to face the complete group, “But first things first, introduction.” Since both of the groups were still standing separately enough to be distinguished between you motioned to the Waynes. “May I introduce my somewhat-adopted-not-legally-but-emotionally-family. This is Bruce Wayne - I bet you all have heard of him - these are his sons, Richard Grayson - you can call him Dick - and Jason Todd, and his daughter Stephanie - or Steph - Brown and close family friend Barbara Gordon,” you motioned to each of them in turn with their names and they nodded in greeting at the others, still unknown to them. Then you turned to the others and said: “And may I introduce to you my first ever superhero team slash found family group also known as the Avengers - or rather a view of them anyways. Here we have Tony Stark - I’m sure you heard of him too, Natasha Romanoff and Clint Barton, our two super soldiers Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes and the trickster god himself - Loki.” “Wait, Loki-Loki? The ‘battle-of-New-York’ Loki?” Jason asked in a surprised, but also amused manner and you could almost hear Loki roll his eyes. “Oh please, get over it Mortal,�� he answered sarcastically, but before you could intervene Stephanie took her turn. “Oh you’re one to talk Jay, let’s not forget that.” You couldn’t help but giggle a bit at that and even though the Avengers seemed confused at how easily that shut Jason up, they accepted it as the end of that part of the conversation. For a few minutes the gathered people - a few of your favorite people in the world - started making their own introductions and you were happy that you saw them get along well. Waiting for a good opportunity to get into the conversation and get back to what you wanted to tell them, you were stopped from taking it when Dick motioned at Loki’s outfit. A deep-green suit, black dress-shirt under it, a golden tie, black hair slicked back and black asgardian armor boots - putting that certain touch to it - adorned him and you couldn’t blame Dick when he stated: “How comes none of us got a warning that we’d need to wear something fancy, but he did?” It was only now that the people who had come there with Loki had noticed his outfit and it was Tony who raised an eyebrow. “What happened to the grey jumper you said was ‘nice enough’ to be seen out with when you have to be out with us annoying mortals?” “Well, I can’t let Lady Y/N be the only one who shows that she has a sense of elegance and fashion in this despicable planet, can I now?” Loki answered sarcastically and now you wanted to roll your eyes at him calling you ‘Lady Y/N’, something you had told him to stop ages ago. “Loki isn’t actually wearing this,” you tried to clear things up, ignoring Loki’s remark, only to receive even more confusing looks, causing you to sigh. “Loki is a trickster god, he uses Illusions, he’s probably still in his Pajamas, he just makes it seem like he is wearing this.” Before anyone would start bombarding the god and you with questions, you took hold of the conversation and used your stern hero voice to gain the attention. “Now I’m sure you’re all wondering why I invited my favorite people to a newly opened nightclub and like Stephanie has already mentioned, one that is hard to get into nonetheless. The reason is-” you made a pause to emphasize, “-that it is my club.” A wave of confused ‘what?’s hit you and you quickly explained: “Well, I needed to find another outlet than hanging around with other heroes and busting bad guys and after a talk with Oliver - he’s a friend from Starling city,” you explained for the Avengers, “I decided that opening a club was just what I needed. That’s the reason I was so absent the past few weeks, I was busy planning and employing and stuff, but from now on everything should run itself. I will be able to perfectly split my time into three for the club, hero work and friends and family.” “That’s so cool!” Stephanie squealed and gave you a high five and the others joined in congratulating you, telling you how amazing everything looked and that they were proud of you. “Boss?” a voice interrupted from behind you and you turned to see one of your staff members, “Could I talk to you for a second?” “Excuse me for a bit, I gotta go and run my business,” you cheekily smiled and left your two favorite teams to make conversation as you and the women left through the door that lead to the stairs. “So what’s the matter? What can I he-” you were rudely interrupted when the women’s form morphed into a taller, sleeker one of a certain trickster and promptly continued to press you against the door you had just left through. “Well, well, look who’s getting impatient,” you giggled as he pressed a kiss to your jawline. That was another secret that you had kept from your teams and even from Marianne. Loki and you. If you were being quite honest you were not sure how the two of you became a thing, but somehow you did and now the two of you were waiting for the right moment to tell the rest of the team that you were a lot more than just colleagues. “Can you blame me? You should’ve told me about this, beloved, then I’d known that you were not growing sick of me. I was all worried when you kept on disappearing,” he muttered as he relished in the closeness with you. Slightly shocked at this you grabbed his broad shoulders and pushed him back slightly. “How could you ever think that, Loki? I love you, I could never grow sick of you,” you assured him and pressed a loving kiss to his lips. “That is very good to know, beloved, and I’ll make sure to remind you of that whenever you need,” he winked and you couldn’t help but giggle. “Okay, okay, but I think I have to go back now, we can pick this up again later.” You turned around and opened the door again only to catch what was being said. “We’re obviously her favorites, I mean this club is in New York, not Gotham, why do you think that is?” “Oh shut your mouth, that means nothing. You heard what she said, we’re her family, we’re her brothers and sisters. The Demon is the best proof of that.” “Which Demon?” “Oh please, she called us her family too. After all we got all the appeal of you, but we also have gods.” “She has dinner every second weekend with Superman, an amazonian goddess, the king of atlantis and a world-class magician.” “Well with us she has the world's strongest AI, a world class witch AND the sorcerer supreme, two timeless soldiers, the world's fastest man and the god of thunder.” “Oh please, our fastest man could beat your fastest man in his sleep, not to mention that we have multiple of them.” “Well then bring it on” After having heard enough you looked at Loki, back at the group - and the illusion Loki that was standing bored beside them - and back at Loki, before closing the door again. “You know what, I think I’ll just let them talk that over for a bit.” “Yeah, I think that would be best,” Loki agreed, but he was clearly amused. “What do you think they’ll do when they find out that I am actually your favorite?” he asked teasingly and snug his arms around your waist. “Honestly I’m not sure you’d survive that…”

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nepenthendline · 5 years ago

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Tummy - Asahi

I should be working on requests rather than writing my own stuff but you can blame @mintmatcha for this, she got me thinking about asahi’s tummy

summary: this is just me thirsting over asahi who has gained a little weight and now is a god of muscle and chub but he’s feeling a little insecure

In the past 6 years that you had been with Asahi, things had changed a lot. He had been to nationals with his team, you both finished education, Asahi was working as a talented designer and you in your own field. You were both 25 now, figuring out your way as an adult and balancing responsibilities with friendships and relationship. Even the connection between the two of you had changed; Asahi was more confidence showing affection towards you, you learned to open up to him, and your love continued to grow every day. You learned so much about each other over the years, memorising every inch of each others bodies and every pattern of thought inside your minds.

You had both been busy recently with work, so you decided on a date-night where you could both relax and enjoy each other’s company. There was a restaurant nearby that had the perfect mix of romance and comfort, somewhere you both preferred much more than fancy establishments, that you were looking forward to visiting again.

Since you lived together now, dates were a little different from the rush of getting ready beforehand and the wait for Asahi to come pick you up, then bringing you home with a kiss on the cheek. You felt more comfortable now, letting yourself enjoy the process of picking a cute outfit while you heard him finishing up in the shower. Even so, dates still made you a little giddy like the lovestruck teenager you once were, especially with such a catch of a man.

You had finished getting dressed, now focusing on managing your hair and the last little touches when Asahi came into your bedroom, shuffling through the closet. Being a man of fashion, he, surprisingly, didn’t have a ton of clothes, saying he’d much rather have fewer higher quality pieces, than many styles that wore out fast and didn’t suit his body.

He only had on some dark brown slacks as he looked through, lining his long, muscular legs perfectly. Even after so many years, you couldn’t help but stare whenever he walked in shirtless, or even naked, despite trying your best to divert your attention. Even through all the changes and growth spurts his body went through, he was still perfection to you. The broadness of his shoulders, his padded biceps, the torso that enveloped you whenever he hugged you, the way his body perfectly mixed his muscle and fleshiness. His abs were no longer as visible as when he was a younger athlete, but the way his waist dipped in a little under his bulked chest, then flared out to his hips and v-line that perfectly framed his, now, softer tummy was a sight to see. It was good he had such thick, toned thighs though, after all they needed to support that rounded ass of his. Honestly, you were jealous.

As hot as he was though, the best thing about him was the way he surrounded you in his hold. He was a big guy: tall, wide and strong, and being in his arms felt like safety, like you were hidden away from the world. He was always so warm too, his heat spreading over your skin as if he were a blanket or an oversized teddy bear.

Pulling out a beige linen shirt, he slipped his arms. Watching as his fingers buttoned up the shirt, you noticed how it fit a little more snug than it had when he bought it a few years ago. If anything, it enhanced his shape even more, allowing you to see the swell of his bicep as he flexed his arms to button to the top. It certainly wasn’t too small, but it clung to his figure more than it used to.

You could see his reflection in the mirror, watching as he looked over himself carefully, tugging down a little at the shirt as if it would make it fit looser. His eyebrows knitted together with his lips pursed tightly shut as he observed himself. Quickly, he unbuttoned the shirt, tearing it off and letting it fall on the bed behind him and he went searching for another. This time, he picked up a different shirt, this time in white that had a boxier, longer fit than the previous. After putting it on, however, his reaction didn’t seem to change. This shirt skimmed past most of his body, creating a flat line all the way down, expect for where the bottom of his stomach poked out a little, grazing the material that felt a little tighter there. He let out a sigh, lifting his hands to start unbuttoning the shirt.

“You look good in that shirt, but I preferred the first one,” you piped up, making him jump as little as he had no idea you were watching him. He turned round towards you, quickly working to pull off the shirt and let out a nervous chuckle.

“Uh thanks, I’m gonna find something else to wear,” he muttered, dropping the shirt and going back to the closet for another option. You stood up, making your way over to him, picking up the linen shirt as you passed the bed. You placed a gentle hand on his back, catching his attention.

“Why don’t you try this one again? I love this one on you,” while it was true that you did find him particular appealing in that shirt, you mostly wanted him to admit to why he wouldn’t wear it without you prying. Pulling back from the closet, he lifted a hand to the back of his neck, anxiously rubbing it as he looked away.

“It doesn’t fit right anymore, I’ve put on too much weight to wear that now,” his voice was low and deep as he murmured, the corners of his lips turned down.

“Put it back on for me,” you told him, rather than asked. He stared at you with wide eyes, frozen in his spot, “please?” Slowly, he nodded, picking up the shirt from your hand and sliding his arms back in. His movements were hesitant as he buttoned the shirt back up, grimacing slightly at the way it hugged his body, revealing the curve of his waist, his doughier hips and stomach. But to you, he couldn’t look hotter than he did in this moment.

“So, what’s wrong with it?” You ask in a calm tone, looking over him. He looked back and forth between you and his body in the mirror, before taking in a deep breath.

“You can see my stomach sticking out in it, and how big my arms have gotten,” he lifted his arms a little, showing how the shirt enclosed his flesh and the dips and mounds of his muscle.

“What’s wrong with that?” You reply, somewhat rhetorically. His jaw moved a few times, trying to find something to say but nothing was able to leave his throat. “The problem is what you think your body, not your shirt. But you’re perfect how you are,” you watched as he stared at himself in the mirror, eyes dropped and his fingers fiddling with the edge of the material. “You’re not the athlete you used to be in school, and that’s perfectly ok. You’re older now, you have a different life, you’ve grown and you’ve changed, so it’s expected that you’ll look different to how you did 5 or 6 years ago. You were healthy and gorgeous as a volleyball player, and you’re still healthy and gorgeous now not being one.”

You moved in front of him, standing between him and the mirror while reaching up to cup his check in your hand, feeling the roughness of his beard against your palm. “You’re still just as perfect as you were then. I think you look beautiful. In fact, I think this weight suits you really well,” you mention with a smile, gazing over his chest and thicker arms.

“Y-you do?” He stuttered out, searching your face for an answer. You nodded enthusiastically, beaming at him. Leaning forward, you buried your face in his warm chest, wrapping your arms around his to muffle your voice as you spoke again.

“You look really sexy like this, Asahi,” your faced burned as you confessed, not helped as you breathed in his musky scent and felt his heart race more.

“O-oh. Uh, thank you,” his nervousness made you chuckle a little, even after so many years together, he still got bright red whenever you complimented him, especially like this. Pulling away slightly, you looked up at him, watching his cheeks grow pink with a grin.

“You don’t have to wear this shirt tonight, you should wear whatever you feel comfortable in, but I just want you to know that you look so good in anything, and in nothing,” you teased a little, watching as he swallowed hard and his eyes widened. “I love you, I have since you were younger, smaller and working out non-stop, and I still love you now as a grown, successful designer.” Fiddling with the ends of his hair, you stood on your toes, reaching up to press a gentle kiss on his lips, sealing the confession that you had declared hundreds of times already.

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu fluff #haikyū!!#Haikyuu x reader #azumane asahi x reader #asahi x reader #azumane asahi

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gamerwoo · 4 years ago

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[Tales from the Pack] Hansol: Fire and Ice (Part Ten)

Characters: Hansol x female reader

Genre/warnings: werewolf au, fantasy, fluff (finally lmao), more mentions of depression n stuff, hansol’s super sweet but we been knew

Word count: 1,583

Summary: You’ve always been one to let your emotions get the best of you – your power reflects that – and you’ve never been good at expressing them. That’s why you always thought you’d be awful with a mate, but you never thought things would be this awful.

a/n: things in bold are in english. BUT MORE IMPORTANTLY: i’m minimizing updates. i have online stuff i gotta do for work, and between trying to do that while also trying to write parts for josh (since he’s next and i don’t have any pre-written parts like with the other parts), AND trying to go through the entirety of the series to take notes on things that i think are important, i definitely feel like i need to slow updating so i can try to catch up with josh’s parts so i’ll be able to post somewhat consistently when his series starts. so i’ll be updating once a week now, probably on mondays. i’m sorry i can’t post every single day anymore but this will definitely help me spread out everything i need to get done so i’m not trying to do everything at once in one night.

Previous | Next | Fire and Ice Masterlist

Hansol was surprised to wake up to a warmth beside him. He rubbed his eyes and turned his head, seeing a lump curled up under the blanket. Your face was concealed by the bedding, your entire body engulfed in the fabric that was still charred in some spots.

Smiling to himself, Hansol smoothly got out of bed, careful as to not wake you. While the movement of the bed did have you rolling over, you went right back to sleep. So he opened the door silently and wandered down the stairs to grab some breakfast for you. He wasn’t sure if you’d want to talk at all despite everything that happened last night – rather, especially after everything that happened – but he still had to make sure you ate something. He didn’t know when you last ate, and he assumed the lack of hunger was due to your depression.

“Morning,” Seungcheol nodded as Hansol entered the kitchen.

“Morning, Cheol,” he yawned, stretching his arms high above his head.

Mingyu, who was sitting at the table, pointed over to the stove, “We left extras for _____.”

“How is she?” Danbi wondered from where she sat in her mate’s lap.

“She’s sleeping,” Hansol reported plainly, grabbing the remaining food from the stove for him and you – mostly for you, though, since you needed it more than him. “I’m sorry that you all got woken up last night.”

“Don’t apologize,” Seungcheol told him, “it’s nobody’s fault. Besides, the screaming was worse, even if Seungkwan did muffle it.”

Hansol’s brows furrowed, “What was Eunjin screaming for?”

“She claims Jiung was around,” Mingyu shrugged. “Maybe he visited her last night or something.”

“Does that mean she’s done treating you poorly?” Soonyoung quizzed, sipping his mug of tea.

“Give her a break, Soon, she’s depressed,” Seungcheol scolded, whacking the younger alpha in the arm.

“Yeah, but it doesn’t mean she can push everybody away and walk all over them,” Soonyoung pointed out. “I’m not trying to be mean, I’m just saying–”

“Her twin brother was murdered and she thought it was all because of her mate – who is now the only person she has a true connection to in this world – and after all of it, she was still expected to be an alpha,” Danbi listed off before Hansol could even open his mouth to explain. “After that, she found out that she didn’t even belong in her own pack anymore, therefore, could not be alpha. No, her being rude shouldn’t just be allowed because she had a hard time, but maybe you should also understand why she’s acting the way she is. However, I also don’t think she’ll care if you like her or not; it’s Hansol’s forgiveness that matters.”

Soonyoung stared at Danbi silently before nodding and staring at the table.

“Thanks,” Hansol said quietly, giving the older girl a small but grateful smile. “You are right, she shouldn’t have done a lot of the things she did. But…I personally forgive her, and I want to understand why she did it.”

“If there’s anything we can do to help, just let us know,” Seungcheol said with a small smile.

Hansol went back upstairs, carrying the plate of food in his hands. When he opened the door, he saw you were still fast asleep, just a ball under the blankets. He chuckled softly, setting the plate on the nightstand before he crouched down by the bed and gently shook the lump that was you.

“_____,” his voice was soft, gently pulling you from your slumber, “it’s time to wake up. I brought breakfast.”

But you weren’t hungry. You hadn’t been ever since that night, and you weren’t sure when you’d get your appetite back, so you just grunted at him and pulled the blankets tighter around you.

Hansol frowned, “You have to eat, _____. It’s not healthy to starve like this. I know you’ve been lying about eating when you’re in town.”

You weren’t sure how he knew – mate instincts, probably – but you were a bit grumpy that he called you out on it. Still, you stayed under the blankets as memories of the previous night filled your thoughts. Then your cheeks were burning with embarrassment, and your eyes were filling with tears from both sadness, and the shame of Hansol witnessing everything. You sniffled, squeezing your eyes shut to hold in the tears, but Hansol was already aware of what was happening.

The blankets were pulled back from your face, the cooler air hitting your skin. You opened your glossy eyes to see Hansol looking at you sympathetically, his golden eyes full of concern and love. He wasn’t sure what would be okay with you or what you would find helpful – he didn’t want to touch you in any way and go past your boundaries.

“What can I do to comfort you?” he asked softly.

“I don’t know...” you admitted in a quiet whimper that made you even more embarrassed because it showed you were weak.

Slowly, his hand went to your hair as he gauged your reaction. His palm stroked over your tangled hair, but the gesture was a little soothing.

“Is this okay?” he asked.

You just nodded, averting your eyes.

“Can I try something?” he wondered.

You shrugged, rubbing your eyes to get rid of the tears that still wanted to escape, mumbling, “I guess…”

Hansol pulled the blankets back a little more before he climbed into bed beside you. He sat up with his back against the headboard, wincing a little as he pressed against the wood. Then he pulled you in between his legs, letting you curl up into his chest like you had the previous night. His arms held you gently, and despite his power of ice, they were warm. One large hand continued to stroke your hair as your cheek laid against his chest.

“Is this okay?” he checked, glancing down at you.

Honestly, it felt nice being in his embrace. Obviously, you were still upset, but it actually felt a little better than being alone. Even though you were still uncomfortable showing emotion like this – even around your mate – you like the feeling of being this close to Hansol.

But still, part of you felt indifferent about it, so you moved out of his lap. He let you, keeping his arms rested by his sides while you shifted to sit beside him instead. Your arms were touching, giving you a little bit of that contact your instincts craved, but enough space for your head to be okay with it.

At the last second, your hands grabbed at his closest to you, and you fidgeted with his fingers.

“Do you want to talk about anything?” he offered, quickly adding, “We don’t have to if you’re uncomfortable with it.”

“I just miss him,” you mumbled, your voice breaking toward the end as more tears filled your eyes.

“I know. I wish I could do more for you.”

“‘S’okay…”

“It’s okay for things to not be okay,” he reminded you, tilting his head to look at you. “It’s okay for you to not be okay.”

“Can we not have this conversation?” you asked, a slightly annoyed tone to your voice.

“Of course,” he shrugged, grabbing the plate of food he brought him instead. “You still have to eat, though.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“But you still have to eat.”

“I can’t.”

Hansol let out a sigh, “_____, I know it’s hard because of how you’re feeling, but you have to.”

“What are you eating for breakfast?” you asked with a raised brow, seeing only one plate and one set of utensils.

“Mates eat first,” he countered with a playful smirk, imitating you at lunch the day prior.

“But I’m also a werewolf, so you’re the mate to me,” you stated, folding your arms across your chest.

“But–”

“No. This is a two-way street.”

He let out an exasperated sigh, but scooped up some food on his fork before putting it in his mouth, staring at you as he chewed and swallowed. Then, he got a new forkful and held it up to your mouth, looking at you expectantly.

“I held up my end of the bargain,” he told you.

So, with a quiet groan, you opened your mouth and let him put food in it. His smile was triumphant, showing off his gummy grin that you found both annoying – considering the circumstances – and adorable.

You and Hansol ate quietly, alternating between bites – he’d feed himself and then feed you, continuing with that pattern. It wasn’t until he was scraping the plate with the side of the fork that he spoke again, bringing the last bite to your lips.

“Do you want to talk about last night?” he asked.

You shook your head, closing your mouth around the fork as he slipped the now empty utensil out of your mouth. You were still worrying about if Hansol actually forgave you or not. You felt more than guilty for treating him how you did, so you were trying your best to be closer with him even if it was a little weird for you. But hey, you were trying.

“Not yet,” you said after you had swallowed your food.

‘Yet’ was the keyword, and Hansol noticed that. You would talk about it when you were ready, just not right now. And Hansol was fine with that. He’d wait for you. He always did.

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atalana · 4 years ago

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[copied over from my cr blog, also this is gonna get long, i’d apologise but im not sorry]

okay, so

this is a rant probably about 7 years in the making, bc when i first watched lok i had not done any music study, i had not done any composing of my own, my knowledge of music theory was at a primary school level and i still thought tv soundtracks were just made by one person composing a whole cache of music and then the audio editors pick and choose what track to place where

(spoiler alert that’s not how film and tv scoring works, i have now done a music composition course where we had to score a short film, among other things, and i have so much more respect for tv composers jesus christ)

but this one stuck out to me even way back then, bc me barely knowing what a leitmotif was was like “hey this one little refrain keeps popping up whenever bolin does lavabending, and i like it, i’m gonna see if it’s on the soundtrack”

it was not, and that’s sort of where i left it back in 2014, but i actually did a rewatch of lok pretty recently out of nostalgia, and then noticed it even more

and to explain why (and this is also a little bit why five’s stuck out to me in tua, i’ll get to that in another ask), let’s cover, leitmotifs, and tv scoring in general

so a leitmotif is basically just a short musical idea that represents something in a piece of music. when i studied motivic development we were encouraged to make that motif four notes or less, and then develop it into something longer (aka a theme), because if you can constantly come back to a really short idea while keeping the piece moving, that’s what makes a piece of music memorable

(you can ignore those rules on purpose but that’s a different essay)

so the most common way that a leitmotif shows up in soundtracks is to represent a character or a location - you play the motif when that character shows up or when you’re in that location and boom, the audience associates that motif with that person place or thing, and you can then use this to tell the audience things without actually telling them. for example, star wars playing the imperial march whenever someone does something darth vader related - darth vader isn’t on screen, but you can feel his presence, because his music is playing

and if we were a film score, where we have two hours to show one particular character’s development, great! we give them a simple motif, and then as they grow as a person we change their motif to reflect what is happening to them, until we end up with something that communicates on a subconscious level how much they’ve grown. we toss in as much symbolism as we can, and we have a really great soundtrack that’s instantly memorable

tv scoring, is harder. partially because of time constraints (have you ever composed half an hour of original music a week, and had to make sure it fits perfectly with every beat of what’s happening on screen? these guys have), partially because there’s a much larger focus on ensemble casts

so what atla and lok do, for the most part, is not score individual character motifs for everyone. this is fairly common in tv soundtracks, instead we score ideas, concepts, and feelings - these’ll come up a lot more and give you more information than just “oh hey this character’s on screen”

the avatar state, for example, has the strongest and most recognisable theme across both shows. i’m linking an atla track in here because it has the best example but you’ll know this shows up with korra too - and with particularly important moments for wan, for kyoshi, etc. they also appear in the opening of both shows, four strong notes that start and end on the same note (in the case of what i’m linking, it’s an F#)

youtube

the first part of this track is the more uncertain, pensive theme that comes up when both avatars are feeling doubt/worry/sadness, but then it transitions into the more recognisable four. worth noting though, those are both basically the same motif. if i write them out back to back, you’ll notice they both have four notes and start and end on F#. if i had to guess, four notes four elements, and it comes back to the start because the avatar is a cycle.

korra has a theme for when she’s fighting, but not an individual character theme. the airbenders as a concept have a theme, republic city has thematic instruments, as do some big name characters, like iroh and his tsungi horn (this is also a cross-series thing, he’s always playing it in atla, it shows up when zuko has to make big moral decisions, and when we first meet iroh in the spirit world in lok, it shows up there too, to let the audience know who this is before we properly see him)

so, if korra doesn’t get a single theme and instead has several for different aspects of her life, and mako and asami follow along with the mood of the story like all the other characters, the fact that bolin has a personal leitmotif at all, let alone a solid, developing one, is pretty remarkable!

now, granted, it mostly starts with book 3, before then he was like every other character, but it has clear symbolism through those last two books! and, initially i thought it was related only to his lavabending, since that’s most of when it shows up, but since my rewatch, i’ve started calling it his hero theme

see, when people wanna criticise mako and bolin, usually the comments they get are that bolin’s too immature and mako’s too serious/uptight. but like, that’s how they work, you can’t analyse either of them without the context of the other. since they were little kids on the streets, bolin chases his heart and mako makes sure they don’t die from it, that is their entire childhood. and neither would have got here on their own because mako wouldn’t take the necessary risks and bolin wouldn’t take the necessary precautions. (like. remove either one from the equation and they’d still be working for the triple threats bc s1 and their flashback miniseries make pretty clear that bolin got them out and mako kept them out)

and then book 2 proves it! because it splits team avatar up, and what happens? bolin is totally taken advantage of by varrick and used as a pawn in his evil plan and mako ends up in jail

so what’s book 3, to them? it’s, being able to find themselves without having that codependency. mako no longer has someone to protect, which is what he’s based his whole life around so far - bolin’s doing fine and he’s no longer dating either korra or asami. and bolin’s trying his hand at some of that responsibility (look at how he immediately adopts kai who is explicitly them but younger because he wants to be the older brother for once). most importantly, they find the rest of their family, and stop being defined by being orphans. they don’t have to be that singular piece of a puzzle, they can just be themselves. and that’s where bolin’s character really starts to shine, because that’s when they bring in the bending plot, and bending, perhaps more than any other character, really gets to the heart of who bolin is

if you want more of my thoughts on that i have an essay here, but tl;dr: bolin’s an extremely powerful earthbender, but he’s not a metalbender because metalbending requires you to double down on the earth characteristics and think like an earthbender, and bolin doesn’t, he’s too fluid for that, which is one of his major strengths, so of course he can lavabend

and finally - to his motif itself! (as a note, i’ve put all of these in the same key to show where it repeats, but there’s a variety of keys used in the show)

as far as i can find, it first shows up in s3e8, when bolin stuns p’li with this well placed shot

[Edit: it first showed up in the s2 finale, but again in a simplified version and again with him doing something heroic with earthbending, so we can still start the analysis here]

mako volunteers bolin for that job, because he knew bolin was capable of it. why? because bolin landed an identical shot earlier in the episode, after trying to metalbend, getting frustrated he can’t, and cheating with some extremely well aimed earthbending. it’s just a short refrain and you barely notice it, but it’s the first connection of this motif with the theme of bolin’s bending

it looks like this, and it’s always played on a trumpet, which is part of why i call it the hero theme, because, if you’re looking at music from a western perspective, trumpets were used to herald kings, and then used to represent military glory, and then when superhero themes started happening, they used trumpets too - it’s basically western music shorthand for hero these days

(it’s also symmetrical so that helps with the good vibes)

and he’s saving everyone here, so it’s linked to his bending, but it’s also linked to his heroism

it ties the two together, and they are tied together.

when’s the next time it shows up? episode 10, when the brothers are in prison in ba sing se, and bolin tries to metalbend them out. again, he’s doing this to save people, and this motif gets a few notes added on to the end in a raising pattern - they’re inspiring, but they don’t go anywhere. which is exactly what happens in the scene, because he’s trying to go about this in the wrong way. mako believes in him, but it won’t (and doesn’t) work

it appears in episode 12 when bolin saves everyone from ghazan destroying the temple, in a more fancy orchestral remake of the first version - it’s impressive, but it hasn’t actually developed yet, it’s just his discovery of it

the book 3 finale already has its own fucking amazing soundtrack, i love that entire episode’s score, but it gets its own moment there too, and the first real development!

because what we hear is not what we’ve heard before. we know it’s the same theme, because it’s using those signature trumpets, but it’s the second part of this phrase, the answer to the question supplied by the first one. why? because bolin’s figured out who he is and he’s starting to use it. it still hasn’t settled yet though, it’s early days and he’s still just turning ghazan’s lava back on him, so again, it raises, leaving it on a question mark

it doesn’t appear in s4e7 when he lavabends as a warning against the escaped prisoners, because he’s using it as a threat, not to help people. but it does later in the episode when he uses lavabending to save them from kuvira. and that’s when we get the first full phrase, question and answer

it keeps the first motif identical, takes out the first note of the second, and ties them together - except now it’s not open ended, now it knows where it’s going - it’s been three years, at this point bolin is confident in both himself and his bending

and then that phrase appears all over the place in the finale, because all bolin does is save people - everyone from the exploding building, he slows the giant mecha with lavabending, he saves opal, he slows the giant mecha again by collapsing a building on it, and most importantly, he’s the one rescuing his brother this time, instead of the other way around (though that one doesn’t get a motif appearance bc admittedly a fuck ton of other things are happening in the soundtrack at the time)

so to that question asked in book three - who is bolin when not next to someone else? well, funnily enough, we saw it in book two as well, just in a warped way, playing nuktuk. it just wasn’t truly him because it was created by varrick, and he needed to get away from varrick too. the question put forward by the narrative is who is bolin, and the answer given by the music is, he is a hero. and i don’t know why bolin is the only one to get a theme like this, but i think it may have something to do with the fact that, while everyone in team avatar has been a hero and saved people, he is the only one who has, from the start, solely been motivated by wanting to help people. he follows his heart, and his heart cares, about everyone. it’s been the driving force behind almost everything he’s ever done. and i love him so much

#so yeah those are my thoughts on bolin go forth and cry with me about five notes on a trumpet #legend of korra #lok #bolin #music

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letsfluxshitup · 4 years ago

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the fuck just happened

(tw: minor injuries&blood talk and an excessive use of the fuck word)

Manberg was blown up, Schlatt was dead, Techno was a traitor, and he couldn’t trust fucking anyone, could he? He’d trusted Schlatt, he’d trusted Techno, hell, he’d trusted Wilbur, trusted him not to be a stupid motherfucker, and here he fucking was, bleeding and bruised and exhausted.

Blood was steadily dripping from a wound in his side that he didn’t care to look at, and muscles burning from all the walking, he needed to get the fuck away, away from everyone and everything. He wasn’t at all paying attention to his surroundings, too busy cursing out Schlatt, and Wilbur, and fucking Technoblade, when he stumbled over a rock.

Someone caught him around the waist, though, and he was hauled back into a warm chest. He hadn’t noticed how cold it had gotten.

“If you’re gonna kill me at least let me set my spawn first,” Quackity deadpanned, too tired to even consider fighting. “I’ve gotten too far to restart now, alright?”

He was guided down into a sitting position, and then he was met face to face with a concerned Techno. He didn’t say anything for a long moment, and they both stared blankly at each other.

“I’ve got a place nearby if you need somewhere to stay,” Techno whispered, trying to preserve the fragile silence.

Quackity stared at him, thinking. It was dark, mobs were sure to start appearing, and he was tired.

“Fuck you,” he hissed, “lead the fucking way, big man, I don’t have any other options. Asshole.”

Techno just sighed, helping Quackity to his feet again, lightly nudging a bruise forming on Quackity’s temple with his nose. Quackity froze, stumbling, before Techno’s hands steadied him. That was a piglin thing, wasn't it? Some way of showing affection?

Techno’s arm stayed looped around his waist, guiding him along as they walked. Quackity wanted to shrug him off, tell him to go to hell for acting all friendly after killing everyone, but he was cold and Techno was warm. He’d earned this after all the shit he’d put up with, Techno’s shit included.

Quackity hadn’t realized how tired he was once they’d started walking again, and his blinks lasted longer and longer. He leaned more heavily on Techno, sighing as he realized Techno would have to carry him again, but that didn’t really bother him, being carried by Techno was nice. Having his arms wrapped around him, coddling but not cloying.

It made him feel safe, and cared for. Made him feel loved, even, when it was back in Pogtopia, and it was late and cold and Techno cuddled him to his chest in his sleep, purring in his ear as he sleepily nuzzled his neck. His breath would tickle the back of Quackity’s neck as he let out a sleepy sigh.

Quackity blinked awake, the phantom sensation of Techno’s breath on his neck lingering as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

He was in a neat room, lit by a fireplace across from the bed. The room was decorated in warm colors, quilts and blankets laying on every comfy surface.

There was a desk next to the bed, and Techno sat there, focused on a letter he was writing. The candle on the desk reflected off his glasses, and Techno wore glasses? Quackity couldn’t help but think how cute he looked with them, a gold thin chain attached to delicate frames looped around his neck.

Of course Technoblade had old lady glasses.

Quackity awkwardly cleared his throat, and Techno immediately turned towards him.

“Do you need anything?” He said, voice soft as he set his pen down.

Quackity just huffed, shifting around on the bed. His injuries seemed mostly healed, and that explained the bone deep tiredness he felt. The gash on his side still throbbed though, wrapped in bandages and slathered with salves. At least Techno knew what he was doing.

When he didn’t say anything Techno stood from the desk, heading for the door.

“I’ll make you something to eat, stay right there.” He said, voice soft in the firelight. He looked gentle, kind, in this light. He was wearing a loose white shirt that Quackity could only describe as a pirate shirt, and fitted black pants. He looked ruffled though, not perfectly put together like he normally was.

He looked human.

Or, well, mortal, like he was on the same plane of existence as Quackity instead of somewhere above everyone else. It was a good look on him. There was a mess of light cuts and bruises mottled his face, and Quackity was filled with the overwhelming urge to check over every injury, to make sure he was ok.

Techno had a strange look on his face when Quackity refocused on him, contemplative and soft. He didn’t say anything as he left the room, the crackling of the fire punctuating the soft swish of the shutting door.

When Techno came back, he was holding a bowl of steaming soup in his hands. He settled at the desk again, holding out the bowl to him.

“What? You’re not gonna feed it to me?” Quackity snarked, tired and irritated, irritated at everything that had happened, irritated at how cute Techno looked when surprised, with the firelight softly highlighting his features, expression unbearably soft.

Techno sighed, before pulling the chair closer to the edge of the bed, and holding out the loaded spoon. Quackity decided very quickly that if getting blown up and killed earned him this soft doting Techno then it was absolutely worth it.

Quackity took pity on him, though, and took the bowl from him after the first bite.

After he was finished eating, he patted the bed next to him. Techno looked at him, soft expression back in place, before turning to change into pajamas. When Quackity looked back at him he was wearing his potato-patterned nightgown and Quackity couldn’t help his snort.

Techno laid down in the bed next to him, cupping Quackity’s smaller hands in his own. His hands were rough and calloused from work and fighting, and he lightly stroked Quackity’s fingers and palms. He was quietly looking at Quackity’s hands, pressing their hands together to compare, and Quackity’s were almost laughably small compared to his.

Quackity opened his mouth to say something, anything to diffuse this soft tender moment, something he felt like he was intruding on despite being a part of.

Techno leaned his head down, before looking up at him through his eyelashes, a soft I’m sorry floating between them as Techno’s breath ghosted across his hands.

“It’s- It’s alright. Well, it’s not alright, I guess, but- I dunno-” Quackity stuttered, frustrated, feeling open and raw in front of Techno, in the soft firelight with his hands being gently held. “I get it, I guess. You weren’t just being an ass, or trying to be the bad guy.”

Techno made a noncommittal sound, back to inspecting Quackity’s hands.

“Would it be ok?” He whispered to Quackity’s hands, “Would it be ok if I was the bad guy?”

Quackity wanted to snort at the cheesy line, or shout because everything was happening so much.

“I don’t- I’m tired, Techno, fucking tired of everyone telling me who’s the good guy and who’s the bad guy and who to trust, all right?” Quackity huffed, grabbing Techno’s face. “From now on there’s no good or bad between us, alright? It’s just me and you now, ok?”

“Ok,” Techno replied, voice soft and wavering slightly, and eye contact wasn't normally Techno’s strong suit but there was no way he could look away from Quackity now.

“Ok. Cool.” Quackity huffed, before brushing the hair out of his face and flopping back on to the bed.

Techno grinned down at him, before remembering the letter he had left on his desk.

“I wrote to Philza, my d- friend. Associate. Ally. He raised Wilbur and Tommy? Uh, anyways, I updated him on the… situation.” He didn’t need to clarify, the smoking crater of Manberg vivid in their minds. “I was thinking we could go visit him for a while, he’s got a nice little set up."

Quackity just nodded, ignoring his stuttering over Philza's role in his life, a soft smile on his face as he reached up to rub at the flush spreading across Techno’s face. Techno could say what he wanted but Quackity knew.

“I was thinkin’ we could invite Tommy and Tubbo and maybe even Wilbur, when things have settled? I’m sure he’d be delighted to see his kids again." He flushed slightly, "I mean, if you want to go, you don’t have to, and I’d understand if you didn’t want to-”

He cut himself off, reaching up to hold Quackity’s hand against his face where it had moved to cup his cheek.

“Aw, Techie, you taking me to meet the parents? Gettin’ kinda serious, aren’t ya?” Quackity grinned at him, voice soft as he continued. “I’d love to. Even if it means I have to see that Wilbur bastard again.”

Techno just snorted before flopping down into bed next to him, burying his face in his neck and he’d gotten caught up in the fighting and the bloodlust and the drama, he’d forgotten how nice it was to just settle down and relax and be safe.

Quackity was safe, he decided quietly.

#quackity #technoblade #flux writes #wuh did tumblr delete my tags?? mean #quacknoblade

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highladyluck · 4 years ago

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“Magic Dagger Curse Is My Middle Name” & Human Evil in Wheel of Time

Part 2 of a series of essays on the theme “Tuon is Mat’s Replacement Shadar Logoth Dagger”. (Part 1 was “Stealing Is The Way to Mat Cauthon’s Heart”.)

This discusses the many parallels Tuon has to Mat’s dagger on a symbolic level, covering both her and her role as leader of Seanchan. But mostly, I talk an extraordinary amount about how the Shaido, Whitecloaks, and Seanchan reflect the archetypal in-universe human evil of Shadar Logoth.

Magic Dagger Curse Is My Middle Name

Tuon Athaem Kore Paendrag (now Fortuona Athaem Devi Paendrag) has a lot of names, and I'd found puns or references in most of them. There's the "Lady Luck" pun of "Empress Fortuona". There's the very appropriate "Kore" (Persephone's and Tuon's pre-kidnapping moniker, meaning "Maiden") for a girl who gets kidnapped and dragged through both the human underworld (a circus, and a dive bar that's literally called a hell) and the death-related underworld (a literal ghost town full of ghosts, and the hell of guerilla warfare). There's "Devi", a reference to divinity, which replaces "Kore". Paendrag is of course an Arthurian legend reference.

But the one name I never quite understood was her only other permanent name- "Athaem". The 13th Depository Blog suggests it was meant to evoke both "athame" - a knife or dagger used in magic rituals - and "anathema" - a curse, especially one that exiles someone. Go on, let that sink in. Tuon's middle name is "Magic Dagger Curse". Tuon "Magic Dagger Curse" Paendrag. Fortuona "Magic Dagger Curse" Paendrag. I CANNOT EMPHASIZE ENOUGH THAT TUON'S ACTUAL MIDDLE NAME HAS ACTUALLY BEEN "MAGIC DAGGER CURSE" THIS ENTIRE TIME.

Basically that's all I actually need to say here to prove that Tuon is the symbolic return of Mat's sexy cursed magic dagger that isolates the bearer via paranoia and suspicion, but let's throw in some of the other parallels just for fun and so you have time to recover from the psychic damage I just dealt you. There's some fun ones just around rubies specifically and the color red.

The Shadar Logoth dagger has a large dark ruby on it, the size of Mat's thumbnail. Mat estimates it would buy a dozen farms back home, and when Mat first meets Tuon, he notices she's 'wearing a fortune in rubies'. Also, before she becomes Empress, Tuon's signature color is red; she's got red fingernails, red and a very dark green are the imperial colors as seen on the Deathwatch guards, she buys a lot of red silk in Jurador, and presumably the roses in the Raven and Roses imperial sign are red, as she treasures Mat's present of red silk rosebuds. (Interestingly, she starts going more blue once she becomes Empress- I'm thinking specifically of the blue nails and dress she has when she declares maritime Ebou Dar her capital.)

Tuon also has other physical similarities to edged weapons in general, and the dagger specifically. Like the dagger, she looks ornamental but could absolutely kill you. Mat describes her hands as "bladed like an ax" when she strikes a footpad in the throat to save him. She's also sharp, in the sense of being very intelligent and canny. Also, she could learn to channel, and in being a sul'dam is a conduit for magic, so she fits that aspect of the dagger as well. And, last but not least, like the dagger, Tuon is a fascinating and deadly artifact of a powerful civilization that embraces a uniquely human form of evil.

Shadar Logoth as Ultimate Human Evil

In the books, Shadar Logoth is our loadstone for what is described as a specifically human kind of evil, separate from the absolute, somewhat abstracted "evil for evil's sake" that is the province of the Dark One. The Dark One's ideology as practiced by humans ends up being nihilism, or rather, self-interested nihilism. (Ishamael isn't a pure nihilist, he's ok with getting worldly power while there's still a world.) In contrast, Shadar Logoth's downfall is a kind of corruption; evil things done in the name of, and for the sake of, good things. There are other cultures that do that, of course, but Shadar Logoth is the purest example of 'the ends justify the means', since their 'end' was fighting the Dark One.

"The victory of the Light is all. That was the battlecry Mordeth gave them, and the men of Aridhol shouted it while their deeds abandoned the Light. [...] No enemy had come to Aridhol but Aridhol. Suspicion and hate had given birth to something that fed on that which created it, something locked in the bedrock on which the city stood." -Moiraine, The Eye of the World

The goal of opposing the Dark One (an abstract idea of evil) at any cost led them to turn on and destroy not just their allies but ultimately each other.

Mat's Shadar Logoth dagger is a part of Shadar Logoth that has most of the powers of the whole. When carried by an individual, it can brainwash, induce (semi-justified) paranoia, kill via corruption, and infect others. These are all powers associated with Aridhol/Shadar Logoth. About the only thing the dagger can't do that we see other elements of Shadar Logoth do is shapechange or snatch bodies (#JustMordethThings) and move semi-instinctually on its own (like Mashadar). Shadar Logoth is established as Peak Human Evil, an evil so archetypal it has undergone a sort of dark apotheosis and become both a physical and metaphysical force.

Because it is so archetypal, we should expect to see aspects of it reflected in other Randland cultures that are antagonistic to our heroes, but which are not explicitly pledged to the Dark One. We should also expect to see the same part to whole dynamic in those cultures' leaders. Rand is a great example of this part-to-whole dynamic; as the Dragon Reborn who is 'one with the land', he struggles against increasing paranoia and self-hatred, which leads him to act as his own antagonist for much of the series, even as he explicitly fights against the Dark One. It's the Shadar Logoth struggle writ large. Therefore, the leader of a corrupted, Shadar Logoth-esque culture will be a powerful and faithful representative of the traits of that culture; you could say they are the purest expression of that culture.

This is a tenet of Robert Jordan's worldbuilding and narrative, and applies to more than just the antagonist leaders; protagonist leaders also stand in practically and symbolically for their culture or group. Over the course of the series, nations and groups end up led by the 'best' people for the job, where 'best' is some combination of 'most representative', 'most competent', and/or 'best adhering to their culture's ethical tenets' (which often happen to be our protagonists). This has the possibly unintended/unconscious effect of justifying autocracy, monarchy, etc in-world because it's all adhering to aristocracy, 'rule by the best', where 'best' is rather culturally relative. It's also an artifact in-universe of the world moving to a wartime footing; anyone who isn't the best person for the job gets tossed out of the way in the name of prepping for Tarmon Gai'don, by some combination of The Will of The Pattern as well as actual effort on the part of our heroes.

On a more meta level, Robert Jordan's choice to use third person limited points of view means we get a lot of POV characters who are very embedded in their cultures and serve as an immersive cultural crash course for the reader. They tend to be either main or secondary characters who are movers and shakers in the plot (justifying the time we spend in their heads) or there to provide an outsider reaction to main or secondary characters (again, justifying the time we spend in their heads.) Robert Jordan's writing is concerned with the use, abuse, and fluctuations of power, but it's worth noting that he doesn't give us POVs of characters who are structurally and permanently without power.

POV characters often have moments of powerlessness, either in the beginning of their narratives or at the end, but if you happen to be a WoT character who never had power and never will, RJ isn't interested in showing us the inside of your head. For example, we don't ever get a POV from an ordinary da'covale who spends the entire series out of control of their own destiny, even though that could be a very powerful outsider perspective. Instead, we get POVs from sojhin, who are movers and shakers in their own right. (These are great POVs--Karede's POV in chapter 36 of KOD is maybe my favorite of the entire series, it's a work of art--but again, there's a bias here in who we observe observing.) In a series where people bemoan or celebrate being constrained by fate and consciously question if they have free will, we somehow don't hear from those who have never had worldly power; we only hear from those who do, or once did.

(I find this disappointing, and it's one of the reasons I find it difficult to recommend the Wheel of Time books- which are obviously deeply personally significant to me, and which I find fun, interesting, and more often than not, well-written- without caveats. The series is so obviously about power and choice and the ways they influence each other, and uses third person limited POV so skillfully, that it is surprising and disturbing to me that we are not exposed directly to the point of view of those who have been permanently and structurally deprived of power. We miss an opportunity to engage with the core themes on that level, and also uncover an authorial bias that hasn't aged very well and which makes me look at some of RJ's other choices with a more jaundiced eye. I believe WoT would have been stronger and richer thematically if it had grappled directly with the realities and perspectives of those who remained powerless throughout the events of the series. And whether it was an unconscious or deliberate choice to leave out those perspectives, not having them there lessens my trust and acceptance of Robert Jordan's takes on power and choice. But I digress!)

Heirs of Shadar Logoth: The Shaido

So, there are other antagonist cultures that we spend a lot of time with but which are not explicitly allied with the Dark One (though we are always shown their leaders being subject to the Dark One's influence, through their advisors and high-ranking coworkers, who are Darkfriend characters that have positions of structural power and influence.) Overall, the Shadar Logoth archetype means we are looking for structural corruption, fear, hatred, and the cultural belief that the ends justify the means. In-universe, that's what human evil looks like, and we expect to find it in our secondary antagonists.

So let's take a look at the Shaido, who are attempting to recapture a glorious (fictional) past by imposing a corrupted version of their original values on others; the Whitecloaks, who spread authoritative dehumanization and bigotry in the name of order and righteousness; and the Seanchan, who have the dubious distinction of doing *both*, which is why they win the door prize for Most Problematic Antagonist Who Isn't Literally Allied With The Dark One.

The Shaido are an example of a corrupted culture that imposes its corruption on others, especially others that do not meaningfully consent to be assimilated. Their corruption starts with suspicion and fear and leads to brainwashing; they choose to believe a lie because it is more palatable than the truth, and because they fear becoming powerless and losing their cultural identity. They and the Aiel that joined them cannot accept Rand's truth bomb about the origins of the Aiel as pacifists. It's an idea so counter to modern Aiel self-image and culture that the secret was carefully hidden and used as a test of character for Aiel leaders.

In the test, the knowledge that they had betrayed their original ideals to survive was presented in the original emotional and logistical contexts, which may have helped the Aiel who went through the test survive learning about it; it's easier to empathize and overcome fear and disgust if you know why people made the decisions they did. To survive, and to self-govern, the honor-bound Aiel leadership has learned to forgive themselves for their corruption, while not losing the lessons they learned from it, and empathize with people almost entirely unlike themselves. (How effective are they at that? Your mileage may vary.)

Normally, only those who could accept the information could reach the highest leadership roles. Sevanna, whom the Shaido exodus coalesces under after the death of Couladin, is the only Wise One who didn't go through that testing process (she got in on a technicality), which makes her uniquely qualified to lead the group that can't accept this information. Like that group, she lacks humility or the ability to accept unpleasant truths; however, she's self-confident, politically skilled, culturally competent, and has a clear vision for her people, which are the other qualities that the Aiel select for in their leaders. (I cannot believe that today I woke up and said nice things about Sevanna!)

She's presented as somewhat 'corrupted' by wetlander ways, greedy for wealth and power, but I think it's more that she's off the leash of strict Aiel morality; she goes on a reign of terror, taking more than she needs of any resource, and capturing non-Aiel and keeping them as permanent gai'shain. This is clearly slavery in a more modern sense. The Aiel proper have a sort of ancient-style slavery, based on taking prisoners of war, that is time-bound, highly regulated, and that everybody more or less consents to by living in that society. (I say more-or-less; not sure your average civilian Aiel precisely consents the way a warrior might consent, but then again, everyone in Aiel society is a little bit of a warrior.) Sevanna's unconsenting, permanent, non-Aiel gai'shain are a clear violation of all of these tenets, and resemble the bodysnatching and invasive nature of the Shadar Logoth evil. Fear turns into hatred of both kinds of uncorrupted Aiel (the originals, and the modern) and of those groups of people who are not like them. In the end, the Shaido dissolve, their corruption having weakened them so that they fall prey to outside forces.

Heirs of Shadar Logoth: The Children of the Light/Whitecloaks

The Whitecloaks are an obvious heir to Shadar Logoth, as they persecute channelers and anyone they consider a Darkfriend in the name of order, righteousness, and the Light. Whitecloaks represent the paranoia, assassination, and brainwashing powers of Shadar Logoth, and insofar as they have assimilated Amadicia and make forays across borders, they also cover invasion, though to perhaps a smaller degree than the Shaido (or the Seanchan). The Whitecloaks are also good intentions, corrupted; yes, Darkfriends are bad, yes, the Light is good, no, not everyone you don't like or who has power you want is a Darkfriend! They turn neighbor against neighbor, harrass, torture, and murder the innocent as well as the guilty, and generally do all the bad behavior you would expect of a military quasi-religious order that considers itself above the law. Also, Mordeth/Fain literally got his grubby hands all over the Whitecloaks early in the story and made them even worse.

Galad is a really good example of the 'best man for the job' ending up in it; Galad's extremely uncompromising morality is most likeable and practical when he's fulfilling a 'reformer' role in a group that really needs it, and when he's not in that role, his entire deal can feel excessive and alienating. (Although I will note that if you think about how his mom abandoned him to pursue what she was told was her duty, and his dad was a real asshole, you can kind of see why Galad has such a strict moral code and won't let something like family or feelings get in the way of carrying out his duty... anyway just having feelings about Galad, don't mind me.) When leading the Whitecloaks he recalls them to their original ideals and purpose, which is literally fighting the Shadow on an actual battlefield, and makes them hew to ethical standards from the original Lothair Mantelear text and his own personal extremely high standards.

He purifies the Children of the Light, insofar as they can be purified, purging the corrupt people and practices. This allows the Whitecloaks to ally with the Light, rather than sitting out the Last Battle or killing important Light-allied groups. But the Whitecloak channelerphobia is not going to be eradicated so easily, and that's mostly what Galad’s family was objecting to about him joining the Whitecloaks in the first place. And even Galad starts to succumb to it by the end of the series, although to be fair the White Tower had definitely done a number on his family by that point. Post-Last-Battle, Galad is really going to have to grapple with 'what is the practical purpose of a bunch of armed busybodies who think they're better than everyone else and who have a very deep-seated hatred and fear of channelers?' One hopes he'll convert them to a peaceable monastic order doing community service. If anyone can do it, it's probably Galad, but I think it's not going to be easy and it's also not clear to me if Galad is going to have the same opinion about the necessity that I do.

Heirs of Shadar Logoth: The Seanchan

So, now we come to the Seanchan, who are a rich, complex, fascinating culture that combines the best and worst thematic elements of both the Shaido and the Whitecloaks. Twice the fun, twice the flavor! Like the Shaido, they are the corruption of an honor-based culture that now assimilates other people and cultures without their consent. The Seanchan have a strongly-held honor system that uses public and private shame as a deterrent to unethical behavior, similar to ji'e'toh, but like the Shaido, they apply it to conquered peoples under duress; even if the Seanchan themselves are ok living this way, there's no real consent happening when they conquer.

Like the Shaido, the Seanchan claim to be the true heirs of an ancient legacy, the children of the child of Artur Hawkwing, but have spent enough time in Seanchan to absorb all sorts of concepts Artur Hawkwing never had (slavery, taming weird beasties, exploiting Aes Sedai rather than just avoiding or fighting them). Their culture is also built on convenient fictions; the knowledge that sul'dam can learn to channel, and that some can be held by the a'dam, is likely to produce a truth bomb down the line, one way or another. And the Seanchan are an imperial power, which means they automatically follow the natural growth and rules of empire; always be expanding, always be consuming, always be exploiting. They're Mashadar, baby!

Let's zoom in on the slavery, since that's one prong of what makes the Seanchan evil. It's a kind of bodysnatching and brainwashing, and there are some really interesting parallels here to the Shaido and Aiel. The Seanchan have three forms of institutional slavery; so'jhin, da'covale, and damane. So'jhin, hereditary upper servants of the upper class, have the most power and are analogous but not precisely equivalent to normal Aiel gai'shain. Like standard gai'shain, they are considered property that can be traded, have some level of autonomy and ability to direct their lives, certain rights and privileges, and in theory can be manumitted.

Unlike gai'shain, they actually can have more political power than free people. Also unlike gai'shain, they are not guaranteed manumission after a set time, and while I think the gai'shain consent issue is a little muddy (Aiel can't help being born Aiel and thus subject to Aiel raids) so'jhin are born into slavery and have therefore absolutely not consented to it. So'jhin appear to be based at least partially on Byzantine examples of high-ranking slaves, and slavery in other very complex and bureaucratic cultures where those in power needed highly competent administrators, but didn't want the administrators supplanting them.

Da'covale are equivalent to Shaido gai'shain; often (but not always) captured from other cultures, absent the rights and privileges of regular gai'shain or so'jihn, and bound to involuntary servitude for life, although they can in theory be manumitted. (Shaido gai'shain have the option of trying to escape, I guess.) They have very little autonomy and power to direct their lives. It may be possible for da'covale to become so'jihn, so again there is a kind of internal mobility/potential access to power that doesn't have an exact equivalent with the Aiel models, but that's offset by the lack of consent; da'covale can also be born into slavery. One can be made da'covale as punishment for defiance or anything else the Seanchan see as a crime, or born into it. It seems historically equivalent to ancient, prisoner-of-war-type slavery, mixed with the carcereal state; you were in the wrong place at the wrong time, or you fucked up, and that's the justification for making you a slave.

Damane have some points in common with both regular Aiel and Shaido versions of dat'sang; they are all slavery in the form of the carcereal state/slavery as an outcome of the justice system. Dat'sang are 'despised ones', usually those accused of being Darkfriends or who have committed heinous crimes. It's a punishment that is apparently permanent and unrecallable, and they are sentenced to the most shaming labor in the worst conditions. They are cast-out from the community and forced to serve it in the most degrading way. Marath'damane, channelers with the spark who are not leashed, are treated like dat'sang are, in that they are cast out of their communities and shamed for their 'crimes'. Once they are leashed, though, they become integral parts of Seanchan society and are told to take pride in the service they can provide, which is very unlike the dat'sang cultural experience. Damane are enslaved and exploited for their talents, ostensibly to keep the general population safe from their magic powers and their potential political power, but also because they're an incredibly powerful military and infrastructure resource.

The first damane was created out of a combination of fear, greed, and hatred. One Seanchan-local Aes Sedai captured a rival and brought her to Luthair Paendrag, who she knew would be receptive to constraining the power of channelers. What she didn't count on was that solution being institutionalized, and that she'd eventually fall prey to it herself; a classic Shadar Logoth "do a shitty thing unto others and eventually you'll just be doing a shitty thing to yourself" move. Both the existing Seanchan population and Luthair's group had already othered, hated, and feared channelers, the Seanchan possibly for logical contextual reasons (seems like the Seanchan Aes Sedai were all independent Americans who didn't want to be governed by a universal code of ethics or subject to institutional oversight, which is not conducive to living in a society), and Luthair because of Ishamael’s original corruption of Artur Hawkwing.

In the end, the combined Luthair group/original Seanchan institutionalized their channeler bigotry, saying that the ends (preventing channelers from exploiting non-channelers) justified the means (exploiting channelers). Damane are never, ever freed and now the Seanchan think of channeling independently as inherently a corruption and a crime; something that makes the involuntary channeler evil and unhuman. They also break channelers, brainwashing them into thinking that this is for their own good (and not just for the good of the state).

(Another meta aside: Because involuntarily channeling is a genetic trait that the channeler has no control over, leashing damane feels to a modern reader, especially US ones, I think, very much like the race-based slavery of our recent past. Especially the idea that the enslaved person is enslaved as a punishment for a crime; this is something that would hit a US reader pretty hard, given that the US's booming prison population is the only legal slave labor force in the US and is also disproportionately made up of people of color. I am pretty sure that explicit parallels between racist slavery and the practice of leashing damane would be supported by Robert Jordan, especially since he literally put the Seanchan on post-apocalyptic North and South America. They have other influences, including Imperial Japan and Imperial China, and the Byzantine Empire, but in this way, and also because of the Texas accents, they are very, very American.)

The Seanchan are also similar to the Whitecloaks; they're both military groups who hate and fear channelers, and they are particularly susceptible to paranoia and assassination/extrajudicial murder. The Shadow didn't have any trouble infliltrating either the Whitecloak command structure (especially the Questioners) or the Seanchan Blood; there's a certain background level of 'the ends justify the means' going on in Seanchan and Whitecloak power centers that makes them fertile ground for recruitment. The Whitecloaks and the Seanchan both have a kind of secret police; Questioners and Seekers (they even have similar names!) who operate under certain strictures with respect to their upper management, but who can basically do whatever the hell they want to ordinary people. And I'm sure I don't need to tell you that secret police are PEAK Shadar Logoth; they were always judging everyone else, generating paranoia and mistrust.

The Blood and Imperial family are also a really great example of Shadar Logoth values creating a (somewhat) functioning society full of extremely fucked-up people; the more power you have, the more delicately you have to step and the harder you have to watch your own back. The higher up you go, the less trust you are able to have in others, until you reach the point where people are sending assassins after an imperial baby, and the imperial baby grows up thinking that's completely normal and fair and it's their fault if they are ever not good enough to dodge it. (Hi, sorry, please excuse me and my many, many feelings about Tuon.) That kind of thing makes you very, very sharp, assuming you survive; it also makes you very inured to violence and most comfortable when you've got a high baseline paranoia going at all times. It puts you in danger and it gives you the means to survive danger; it's very Shadar Logoth dagger, which attracts Darkfriends but also gives you the ability to sense the Darkfriends right back, and incidentally stab the hell out of them.

A Part With the Power of the Whole: Tuon and the Seanchan

So, we have all the sins of Shadar Logoth united in the Seanchan; they're invaders, they brainwash and bodysnatch, they're paranoid, they assassinate and murder, they've institutionalized hate and fear, they're structurally corrupt in that power in their society is based on lies and exploitation, and they think that when it comes to dealing with their mortal enemies (channelers), the ends justify the means. And their leader, Fortuona Athaem Devi Paendrag, Empress of Seanchan, is indeed many of these things wrapped up in one efficient and deadly package.

She's a sul'dam and she enjoys her work breaking and training damane; she's had siblings assassinated and we've seen her kill onscreen; she's deeply suspicious, always second-guessing and skeptical (except about received values and information from her culture); she embodies and enforces Seanchan culture and power. She is all Seanchan in one person, and she'd tell you that proudly. She tries to assimilate *herself* into the state, because she thinks that's what she's supposed to do, to best serve her people. She wants to be the part that is an exact mirror of the whole, and she wants the whole to be perfect, so she wants herself to be perfect, too.

Do you see the shades of Galad, here? Like Galad, she has a strict and impractically idealistic moral code that makes her somewhat unpopular wherever she goes; she's too unpredictable, merciful, and flexible for her counterparts in the Blood (she's always surprising them with her unconventional choices) and too perfectly Seanchan for her allies (who are all horrified by the damane thing, or the da'covale thing, or the assassination thing, etc etc.) The things people grudgingly praise her for are sincerity, competence, compassion within the bounds of her ethical structure, and (sometimes) a willingness to consider new information or accept oversight, the last of which is only impressive because of how enormous her ego is and how thoroughly she's been indoctrinated to believe she's inherently correct and all-powerful.

She is the best of Seanchan, within the context of Seanchan: she survived, took, and kept power, making her the most competent imperial daughter; she's very ethical within Seanchan strictures, not striking first unless threatened, working to acknowledge and correct personal faults, keeping her word, showing concern and mercy for those she believes are suffering, being thoughtful and careful of consequences when she exercises power; she is most representative of all of Seanchan's flaws and virtues, as a sul'dam, Empress, and Lightside ally. (That said: is Tuon the most ethical Seanchan within a broader cultural context? Hell no, that's Egeanin, who goes through a long and painful process of realizing and rejecting the corrupt and nasty parts of Seanchan culture, after it rejects her.)

To conclude: just like Mat's Shadar Logoth dagger, Tuon is a fascinating and dangerous tool of a powerful, antagonistic civilization that embraces a uniquely human form of evil. Her middle name is literally "Magic Knife Curse", Seanchan is the most Shadar Logoth-y of non-Shadow-aligned antagonist cultures, and she also follows the very Robert Jordan pattern of leaders fractally reflecting the culture or group they lead.

#wheel of time #wheel of time meta #meta #shadar logoth dagger #tuon paendrag #problematic fave tuon #tuon is mat's replacement shadar logoth dagger #part 2 #shaido #whitecloaks #children of the light #galad #galad demodred #sevanna #I'm sorry this is 9 pages long in a word document #I had a lot of thoughts

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un-beel-ievable · 5 years ago

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The demon brothers making plushies that look like MC 🧸

Author’s note: Please do not repost!! If you like my writing, please leave a like and a comment (and follow me to see similar content in the future :D)!

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Lucifer ☕:

• It's impeccable, as everything Lucifer does is. Lucifer's attention to detail is second to none.

• He tries to play the plushie off as no big deal, but literally everyone can see how much effort he's put into his handicraft. The eyes of the plushie are the exact same hue as yours are (Remember when Lucifer disappeared for a week and didn't tell anyone where he was going? I'll tell you now -he was wandering from craft shop to craft shop, trying to find thread that would reflect just how beautiful your eyes are.), and he's somehow managed to replicate a tiny version of your favourite graphic tee -down to the small imperfection on the printed design.

• Wherever he goes, the plushie follows. If he's taking a power nap, it sits on his pillow. If he's doing work at his table, it sits on his laptop, ready to help (however much a plushie can help, anyway). Even when he's in student council meetings, the plushie follows. (Diavolo thinks it's adorable, and has a miniature chair custom made for the "newest student council member". Lucifer can't decide on whether Diavolo is mocking him or not.)

Mammon 💳

• He tried his best, he really did. And I'm not saying that because the plushie he made was terrible, no, it was actually pretty decent!

• He doesn't have a clue on how plushies are made, but when he saw the plushie you made of him, he decided he wanted one too. But of you, of course.

• He's too prideful (More like your big brother than you'd like to admit, huh, Mammon?) and embarrassed to admit to you that he has no idea what he's doing, so instead of asking you for help, he turns to YouTube videos and craft blogs to learn how to crochet. After restarting his 2nd row for the 76th time and having to untangle his ball of yarn for the 40th, he's almost ready to admit defeat.

• But then he imagines how happy you'd be when you laid eyes on the plushie he'd made of you (because "EVERYONE would want a plushie made by the GREAT Mammon, it's an honour to be chosen to be MY model." )...and suddenly he's crocheting like he's been practicing for years instead of hours, breezing through instructional videos and reading written patterns like a pro.

• His final product is slightly lopsided...but other than that it's really good!! Especially for someone who had never touched a crochet hook in his life before.

• Uses mini you to practice asking real you out.

Leviathan 🎮

• Is relatively decent at using a sewing machine. After all, he tailors his own cosplay. (And if a new season of 'Ruri-chan: Magical Girls Forever!' comes out and Ruri-chan happens to be wearing an outfit he particularly likes in it...sometimes he creates a tiny replica of it for his Ruri-chan nesoberi.)

• Ruri-chan has her own shrine in a corner of Levi's room...and now you do as well!

• Your "shrine" is basically a wooden shelf (painted in your favourite colour, of course) with a cork board mounted on the wall above it. Plushie you sits on a tiny throne on the shelf, with all the presents the real you has ever gifted him surrounding your cotton stuffed twin. The noticeboard holds a countless number of momentos -mostly photographs of the two of you and tickets from all the anime concerts and events you guys have been to.

• (The throne you sit on is a replica of the fairy queen's rose quartz throne in season 4, episode 19 of ‘Ruri-chan: Magical Girls Forever!' . Official merchandise, of course; there are only about 50 of the official ones left in existence. Ruri-chan had been perched on this very throne for over a decade, all of the other demon brothers were shocked when Levi dethroned Ruri-chan just for you.)

Satan 📚

• His plushie is perfect. Almost...too perfect.

• He's become an expert in plushie making after ploughing through an endless mountain of craft books and making his way through all the handicraft videos to ever exist. And his work shows the results of his diligent research...his final product looks machine made. Flawless. No one can fault him on technique...his work is outstanding. But somehow, something is still...off. It's too perfect, too lifeless. There's no personality to it whatsoever.

• So he spends the next week experimenting with different techniques and materials. He tries crocheting, knitting, making sock plushies...but somehow he still can't capture what makes you...you.

• Mammon notices Satan giving himself a brain aneurysm over this, and makes a comment on instead of trying to think his way through the situation like he always does, he should just "feel for it, you know? Put some heart into it."

• Mammon usually says some strange things...but this time Mammon's words actually seem to resonate with Satan. So he gives it a shot, and pours his entire heart and soul into the next plushie he makes. While the plushie looks virtually the same as all his other attempts, somehow this one feels different.

• It feels right.

Asmodeus 👄

• Commissions someone to make the plushie of you for him

• Okay, so he doesn't make the plushie by himself (he doesn't want to break a nail). But he's incredibly involved in the designing process.

• Fusses over everything from the measurements to the exact colour (and I mean exact ) of thread they're gonna use to embroider on your eyes. Makes whoever he's commissioning do multiple samples throughout the process, and if he even finds 1 tiny fault with it he tells them to burn it and start over. His criticism is brutal, but if it isn't going to be perfect then what's the point?

• When a plushie is finally made to his satisfaction, he immediately gets down to the incredibly important task of creating a doll sized replica of your closet. He's incredibly through, there's even a tiny version of that one sock you have that's had a rip through the heel for years.

Beelzebub 🍔

• Poor Beel has no idea what he's doing...not even a little bit.

• He's watched the same crafting video so many times that half of that content creator's revenue is probably generated solely by Beelzebub himself.

• Where is he supposed to insert his crochet hook again? Oops...time to rewatch the video for the 286th time, I guess...

• His massive, beefy hands are just not made to do delicate handicrafts. He's already lost several sewing needles (pray to Simeon that no one steps on them) and his balls of yarn seem to be getting tangled up with each other just from him looking at them?? Oh, and he snapped a crochet hook clean in half just now, because he set it down on the table too hard. He's crying because all these things are happening and he has no idea why.

• Belphie walks in on the catastrophe and is pretty surprised to see his brother sobbing over a ball of yarn. Beel's never really been that into handicrafts. But when Belphie sees that Beel has actually set his snacks to the side just to concentrate on making this plushie of you...Belphie knows it's serious between the two of you.

• Belphie offers to help his twin out and between the 2 of them, they manage to finish the plushie within the next couple of days (instead of the next couple of years...which is how long it would take if Beel was left to his own devices).

• "Look!! I even attached a tag that says 'made by Belphie and Beel'!" :3

• (Please be proud of this wholesome boi.)

Belphegor 🛏

• Isn't that bad at handicrafts.

• He used to do them with Lilith, back before the war. She was amazing with her hands...much better than he was. She made him one of his cow plushies...he's always treasured it, but after she passed it became all the more precious to him. Her namesake now sits on the softest pillow he has in his bed...the cow plushie to lead all cow plushies.

• He's seen the way you've looked at Lilith (the cow plushie)...and knows while you don't hate her or it, it must be difficult to have a constant reminder of someone whose shadow you'll never know if you can step out of.

• So he decides to make a plushie of you. Not to replace Lilith (both the cow plushie and his actual sister), but as a symbol of his affection for you. To remind you that you're just as important to him as Lilith was (and maybe even more so).

• His plushie making process mostly goes off without a hitch; he doesn't encounter any major problems. He still remembers the basics, and unlike Beel he doesn't have the physical strength to snap his tools in half...he's too sleepy (All that potential nap time wasted on plushie making...).

• His finished product takes up a pride of place on his pillow beside Lilith (the cow plushie). Knowing that the 2 of you are watching over him while he sleeps makes him feel truly happy for the first time in years.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me game #obey me headcanons #headcanons #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor

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sungie · 4 years ago

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𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐦𝐚 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐲𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐬

𝐚/𝐧: this is the first of my haikyuu! pieces, and i hope it helps make some of you like me who’ve been dealing with depression feel a little bit better. kenma would love you so much. thank you for reading!

- -

kenma is the first to notice when something’s wrong

suddenly you’re smiling a little too much. and sure, you’ve always had a dry sense of humor, but this? this is different.

he notices when your laugh seems hollow, almost. and he notices it again when he looks at your smile and feels it flickering, and then again, when he watches you walk away, realizing that your gaze looks a little too much like his. and that scares him.

when the two of you sit together on the bus because you’d tagged along to one of his volleyball games, you gaze blankly at the freeway and turn the volume up on your shared earphones like it’s the only thing that matters, the only thing that’ll drown everything out. and that’s when kenma knows for sure, what’s going on. at least, only until after he recovers from the blaring ring short-circuiting around his left eardrum.

kenma won’t tell you he knows, but suddenly he’s everywhere you go.

kenma’s just ... there. he’ll sit beside you and greet you with a nod, playing his video games while you’re working on homework. or at least, as you try to work on homework. every so often he’ll look up from his game to glance at you with one of his piercing stares, and it feels a little bit like he sees right through you.

and maybe he does.

and then, sometimes, if you’re lucky and meet his gaze, you’ll get a rare smile, one that’s slowly starting to become slightly less rare.

kenma starts packing a little extra food for school. he never brought any before, but sometimes he’ll watch with wide eyes as you’ll tumble into class in disarray, and by the looks of your face, you’ve just managed to down a bit of coffee before running out the front door and into the classroom, a few seconds before the tardy bell. he doesn’t say anything except reach behind him and place a pre-packaged bread from the convenience store onto your desk. sometimes you’ll catch a glimpse of his face, but usually, he doesn’t turn around. he’s too embarrassed that you’ll find his actions weird. but he can’t help it. he cares.

kenma doesn’t really like sharing his video games. i mean, they’re his. and he doesn’t like sharing. he often finds himself hunching over his switch, or tucking it away when people pass by. it’s his way of blending in, of making sure people look past him and forget. but as you come to sit beside him at lunch increasingly more and more often, he simply hands you his phone or portable game console and watches you play with genuine curiosity. it feels natural.

the two of you have been close for a while, but you’ve always had your own friend groups. somehow these lines get smudged further and further, and now kenma finds himself waiting for you outside nearby classes, looking up and blinking in confusion to see you standing next to kuroo at their normal space during lunch, waiting for him. and then you’re even sticking around to walk randomly with him when he doesn’t have practice.

“it doesn’t matter. i don’t really care,” you say plainly, as kenma asks when you need to get back home or leave to study.

“you don’t?” he asks, and it’s funny, really. because kenma feels the same, most days.

“like, what’s the point,” you say, laughing softly. flippantly. “i don’t know. i’m just tired.”

kenma nods. but then, because he needs to, because he’s worried, “why?”

“just numb.” you shrug. “it’s okay. don’t worry, kenma.”

kenma knows there’s stuff going on, he can see you battling with whether to say something or bottle it up even further, but he also sees a whim of confusion pass over your eyes because deep down, you don’t even know why you feel like this. it just is.

“come on,” kenma says, finally, cheeks flushed as he dares to lightly tug on your hoodie sleeve. “yakitori or imagawayaki?”

later he facetimes you because you’re still up. he knows this from your response to one of his texts from a few days ago. it’s now that you tell him you haven’t done any work. it’s two o’clock in the morning.

“but … don’t you have a test tomorrow?”

“yeah,” you mumble. “and i haven’t started studying, or homework.”

kenma bites his lip. “why?”

“i don’t know. i just can’t.”

and he sees your easy, exasperated smile, sees the way you’re implying, i’m okay, really, kenma, go to sleep, but he also notices the way your voice catches, the way you’re blinking and staring up at your light, and then, the clench in your jaw.

“i still have stuff to do,” kenma lies, and he gets up to walk to his desk. “i’ll stay up with you.”

you nod, grateful, and kenma pretends to be working but doodles lines and spirals on a piece of paper, slowly sketching out the patterns of spirals that directly correlate to attack patterns and combination hits in his game. he doesn’t normally do this. he doesn’t normally make the effort, but he thinks you need it. he tells you in a sleep-raspy voice about volleyball practice, and the way the city lights look at night, and the onigiri he wants to buy at the convenience store tomorrow, and do you think you might want one?

he won’t nag you, won’t throw more toxic positivity on you because he knows people do that too much already, and you’re tired of it. but he keeps talking to you softly, even slowly murmuring whatever comes into his mind because he watches as his voice seems to ground you, and soon you’re picking up your mechanical pencil and writing some notes down while he speaks.

normally it would embarrass him, but right now, half-awake and just knowing that he wants to make sure you’re okay, nothing else matters.

he falls asleep momentarily, but catches himself and flushes. he’s embarrassed, mind already racing that you’ll expose his lie, but luckily you’re looking down at your schoolwork. kenma feels something pinch at his heart.

you both stay on the call late into the morning, and soon it’s time to go to school. you’ve managed to get the homework done. you’re not finished studying, not by a long shot, but it’s something. and as you tell kenma that, the smile he gives you makes you feel like things are alright.

he’s been over to your house plenty. and you’re organized, mostly. but today as the two of you stop by your house to pick up a forgotten textbook, kenma catches a glimpse of your room. it’s a mess. more than a mess.

he’s not stupid, he knows the state of your room reflects your mental state. and right now? your room is a disaster. an absolute fucking disaster.

he stubbornly won’t let the both of you leave. he helps you pick up the clothes thrown on the floor and gathers all the dishes and cups from your room, even going to the extent of making your bed, so you don’t have to sleep curled up on the rare expanse of empty floor while he huffs and clears off space on your desk so you can do homework.

he doesn’t know how you manage, like this. but he also supposes that’s why you’ve been able to hide it for so long, keep going for so long.

“do you want to talk about it?” kenma asks one day, his eyes contemplating. trying to figure something out. thinking. he doesn’t want to impose, doesn’t want to make things worse, doesn’t want to push you away.

“about what?” you shake your head. “i’m fine.”

“oh,” kenma says, looking away and down at the people walking beneath the overpass.

“what?”

“but ... “

and as you wait for him to continue, he shrugs, defeated.

“you’re not fine.”

you blink at kenma.

the corner of his mouth tugs to the side, and then he hands you his video game console as offering of peace. “we don’t have to talk about it. but ... (y/n)?”

and the way he says your voice is so soft. kenma doesn’t address you by name often, but when he does, the way it rolls off his tongue makes you feel as if he’s talking about something so special, and you’re afraid to think too much about what it means.

“yeah?” you whisper, your voice caught in your throat.

“i know. and it’s okay.”

kenma doesn’t meet your gaze, expecting you to take the console and then things will go right back to how they’ve always been, with both of you dancing around this dark cloud that gets heavier and heavier as weeks pass.

but you’re not taking the console. slowly, kenma’s gaze flickers back to yours, and his lips part.

your eyes are changing. it’s like something he’s said knocked down a few walls. there’s still a smile on your face, it’s enough to fool most people, but kenma pinpoints the exact second where it starts ghosting away, and now you’re stepping forward and hugging him. his eyes widen; he lets out a little sound of surprise. he can feel you trembling, your voice swollen and catching in your throat when you try to say something. but you don’t have to. you don’t have to say anything.

“it’s okay to take your time,” kenma murmurs in a way that’s so him, and gently, like he’s holding his entire world in his palms (because he is), he lets his arms wrap around you and hugs you back. “it might not be much, but i’m here.” and then, more fiercely, “and i’m not leaving. i promise.”

it’s very rare that kenma will initiate affection. it’s even more rare that kenma will hug you back. but he does it. and this time, he doesn’t let go.

#kenma #kozume kenma #kenma x reader #kenma imagine #kenma hc #kenma headcanon #kozume kenma x reader #kozume kenma imagine #kozume kenma hc #kozume kenma headcanons #kenma x you #kozume kenma x you #kenma x gn!reader

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 5 years ago

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HASO, “Supernal Threat.”

Sorry it took me so long to write this this morning, but I hope you all enjoy it anyway :) I wanted to do a little worldbuilding and work on the development of my universe.

The hub: it sat halfway between Andromeda and the Milky way, a massive station built around a structural ring. Each Ring housed a section of the station, which had been specifically built for the needs of one alien species over another. Each of these sections had attached housing food, docking bays, and contact locations with important tradesmen all held under strict atmospheric conditions. The only place where the sections were connected to join freely was at the center ring, and the council chamber: a large ball suspended at the center of the ring by way of specialized tunnels branching form each section, and leading into a massive meeting chamber.

Construction on the hub had begun almost as soon as the humans had joined the GA some five to six years earlier. While Rundi were the oldest space faring species, their planet was hardly the ideal location for interspecies meetings.

Then again, no planet was exactly perfect, that logic having led to the construction of the station, which was built to house a perfect environment for each and every visiting species.

Just outside the perimeter of the Hub, a massive set of glowing rings rotated slowly in place, on occasion the ring would glow bright white blue, and a ship would suddenly appear inside its outermost ring, only to come curving off into space and down to where it would dock at the hub.

This was another one of the great inventions being constructed around the galaxy: a stationary warp ring, which could be used in place of an on-ship warp drive. The only downside was that ships who used it could only move in preset patterns around known locations while ships with an onboard warp core could explore at their leisure.

However this was hardly the concern of small civilian transports or large shipping freighters, who generally tended to move only between known planetary locations. Either way, the sudden implementation of the warp rings was changing the galaxy rapidly, and now everything seemed closer than ever.

It was almost Ironic that this was all thanks to the Kree/burg collusion and their attempt to get rid of Commander, now admiral vir, by shooting him into an unknown warp tunnel which they had generated using a ring of their own ship probes. Ever since scientists had been reverse engineering the technology until this moment, when warp rings were first being implemented at all the major hubs.

From a window, on the far side of the ring, a young military intelligence analyst was standing nervously before a viewing window staring out at the rotating warp ring and watching quietly as small ships emerged from it’s rings like polen. She held a sheaf of documents in one hand, and all around her important government and military officials were filtering into the tunnel behind her and up to the council chambers.

Her heart beat rapidly in her chest, and her stomach hurt as her intestines twisted themselves into complicated and painful knotts.

She was a simple threat analyst with the newly burgeoning Department of Intergalactic Security (DIS) and she had not expected to be brought in front of the Galactic Assembly today to speak on her work. Yes, she was head of the department’s threat analysis team, but she hardly expected herself to be important enough to be called to do what she was doing.

She almost wondered if her boss had called her into speak to cover her own ass if something were to go wrong and the report wasn’t satisfactory.

She hardly noticed the footsteps behind her or the shadow which had fallen over her face, so engrossed was she in her thoughts and nerves. It wasn’t until a few minutes later when she turned her head and caught sight out of the corner of her eye.

She froze, almost dropping her papers into a heap on the floor, but managing to catch them last minute. A man stood next to her the glowing white blue of the warp ring lighting up the front of his face and sending light dancing down his cheekbones and through his messy blond hair.

She would have known his face anywhere, from the front of UNSC recruitment posters, the inside of history textbooks, magazines, newspapers, movie posters, and… in one case, a deck of playing cards where he had been the Jack.

Behind him a group of officers was huddled in a tight circle, broken only by his absence as it seemed he had left the conversation to gaze out at space as she was doing.

And unfortunately, he noticed her scrutiny.

She tried to look away, but it was hardly discrete and made it look like she had some sort of awkward neck spasm.

She blushed wishing she could hide behind a curtain of her hair, but the military bun she wore was unforgiving.

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye and caught him looking at her, her blush grew brighter.

“You know the last time I saw one of those, I was being launched halfway across the universe in a crumbling space ship.”

His voice was pleasantly smooth and calm but friendly as if he was just about to break into peels of laughter. When she turned her head to look at him still feeling awkward, the expression he gave her was one of polite amusement.

“S-sorry for staring sir-”

He smiled, “I can hardly blame you. I am nothing if not amazingly interesting.” The way he said it made it pretty clear he was only joking, and she broke out into a small smile of her own.

Her hands tightened around her sheaf of papers her mind brought back to an image she had stashed in her notes. He knew pretty damn well that that was true and not just a joke, “I think we both know you’re not entirely joking…. If you don’t mind me saying, sir.”

He shrugged, “Sometimes I forget that my life tends to be a little more interesting than most people’s.” he held out a hand, “Adam Vir, but I guessed you already knew that.” She took his hand, finding that his grip was strong and firm, but not too strong as to crush her hand.

“Lydia Deckler, sir.” He had turned his head to face her now, and she was a little more than surprised to find that he did, in fact, wear an eyepatch as all the rumors suggested. Some people said it was more of an aesthetic choice, while others said it had something to do with his -- supposed mechanical eye-- which tended to overwhelm the user after prolonged use, and of course there were the cynics who considered his use of an eyepatch the cry of attention from a man with so plungingly low self esteem he would do anything to make himself more interesting.

He didn’t seem like the latter, but she couldn’t be sure.

She wanted to ask but thought it might be rude.

The silence had gone on to long, and as she looked into his face, his one remaining eye, she felt a strange sensation, as if he already knew what she was thinking. His pupil seemed to open up, reflecting back at her the entire universe behind the station boundaries. She almost felt as if she would fall in, teetering on her heels.

There was a sudden thud against the window, and she turned and screamed.

Sheaves of paper dropped from her hands and went spilling out over the floor as the massive black eyes leered at her from the window before a curtain of billowing white ribbon.

The entier room had gone silent.

At the window the strange alien face broke into something approximating a grin.

“Conn!”

It was the Admiral’s voice, and she turned wide eyed at him, heart pounding as he marched up to the window.”

“Conn what the fuck was that!”

The face leered at him from outside, and now that her heart rate was going down, she recognized it as a starborn. She blinked in surprise, she had only ever seen pictures of them. Behind them, the entire room had turned to stare at them, and she blushed hard scrambling on all fours to pick up her papers.

Admiral Vir had gone quiet, and while he didn’t talk, he gesticulated wildly with his hands as the starborn pouted and occasionally made rude gestures at him in response.

Incredible.

She knew starborn communicated telepathically, but as far as she knew Admiral vir was the only person who could communicate back to them. Eventually the starborn made one final rude gesture and floated away from the station and down out of sight.

Admiral vir turned from the window grimacing, and bent to help her with her papers, “I am so sorry about that, he’s a bit of a problem child.” He glanced up at her and, looking sheepish he said, “And all three are probably correct.”

She looked up at him frowning with confusion, “Sorry, what?”

“All three, of their theories about why I wear an eyepatch.”

It took her a moment to register what he was talking about, and when he did her eyes widened, “Can you read minds!”

He frowned, “No, but Conn can.” he held up a hand, “Don’t worry, he didn’t mention anything else to me other than the eyepatch thing, and yes I like wearing it because I think it makes me look cool, I wear it because sometimes the mechanical eye becomes too much, and there is probably a modicum of truth about the self esteem thing, though I like to think i've mostly worked that one out.” he stood and handed her back her papers, “I hope that answers your question.”

She blushed again, and hated herself for it, “Sorry sir.”

“I’m sorry for intruding on your thoughts.”

“Amidral!” The two of them turned at the voice, and she shrunk back as she recognized Admiral Kelly,a and the fleet Commander as they stepped up, “Meeting starts in five minutes, we should be going.”

He inclined his head and turned to her with a nod before disappearing up the tunnel with them.

She found herself suddenly very glad that the starborn hadn’t showed up when she was thinking about the movie poster hanging on her wall.

With that thought now firmly and embarrassingly fixed in her head, she hurried forward across the floor and up the tunnel into the meeting chamber, which was mostly dark, but held large pod-like seats to contain each of the delegations. Some of the seats were covered by a protected, and enclosed glass bubble while the rest of the delegations allowed the bubbles to be open to the air.

The room was alive with the chatter of a hundred or more alien delegates speaking in alien tongues.

She saw Drev, and Vrul and Rundi and Celzex: those of whom were sitting WITH the human delegation mostly clustered around Admiral Vir as he spoke with them.

Thanks to Admiral Vir, threat analytics had shown that the Celzex: despite their planetary destruction capabilities, were of the least threat to the human civilizations due to their fierce loyalty to the friendship he had worked so hard to build with them.

Those same threat analytics showed that their weakest ally within the GA was actually the Bran…. For similar but opposite reasons.

The man had really only become good at alien diplomacy within the last three years, and their first encounter hadn’t exactly gone according to plan.

She stepped across the polished black floor of the large, dark room, and took a nervous seat below the Rundi section , where the other speakers were sitting. If they were nervous, they didn’t show it, most of them sitting straight backed and blank faced, while the alien speakers were hard to suss out when it came to their own facial expressions.

One of the speakers, a short blue Drev wearing pearly white armor, looked almost bored as she spun a spear idly around in one hand.

The Drev saint, she hadn’t expected to see her at the meeting, though she supposed she should have considered she was also the weapons specialist on Admiral Vir’s ship. Her promotion to sainthood had caused a real stur in the galactic community as it sent huge ripples through Drev cultural traditions, which in turn, sparked a change in their foreign policy.

There was also the question of how hierarchy was supposed to work on the Admiral’s ship as he was technically a clan Sentinel but saints were generally positioned above Sentinels in clan hierarchy. Some worried the Drev would use this as a way to take over command of the human run UNSC Omen, though that didn’t seem to have happened.

She was probably here to speak today about how Drev and interspecies relations would reflect the new doctrine.

She had a copy in her sheaf of papers.

As a threat analyst, it was her job to determine what changes in the galaxy were good for humans and which ones were bad. She imagined that this would be good for humanity and the other GA members as a whole as the new doctrine was a little more lax on the Drev themselves.

She sat in her seat nervously as the meeting began with the Rundi chairwoman greeting them all and welcoming them to the meeting. A few words were said about the new meeting hall, and a couple of new faces were introduced to the assembly. Some general business was conducted, and then it was time for the speakers.

There were a few trade and economic reports from the Tesraki, and a very long winded speech from some foreign policy maker on space waste disposal off of ship, which had half of the gallery asleep in the first five minutes, a gallery that picked up as soon as the Drev saint stepped onto the floor, and gave a short but impassioned speech about the changes she expected to make on behalf of drev relations everywhere.

It was then her turn, and she felt her knees shaking slightly as she got to her feet and made it to the front of the room.

“Assembly members please welcome the human Director of threat analysis within the department of intergalactic security of the UNSC.”

She cleared her throat awkwardly, setting her pages down on the small presentation table as she began.

“Ladies, Gentlemen and esteemed others of the Galactic Assembly, I have been asked today to compile and present our gathered intelligence on what my departments agree to be the greatest threats facing the interests of the GA at this time.” She began working on economic threats, social threats, and a couple of mentions of small militia groups and anarchists popping up around GA territory. They were just passing comments as it seemed there was more infighting going on than there was cooperation between the groups.

She discussed a few general topics about policies she thought needed more shoring up, before getting to one of her latest points.

“In the past months we have been compiling and analysing all the information Admiral Vir brought home with him in regards to the alien civilization nicknamed the Omnidroid. As of yet we have only determined that their civilization contains multiple sentient alien life forms capable of space travel, and have formed some sort of economy not dissimilar to our own. With Explorations of the technology described by Admiral vir, we have no reason to believe that they have power output or technological capabilities higher than our own. We still have no idea where their location is, and find it likely that they are at some distance from us. Still we known they have weapons capabilities, and are likely to communicate on levels, as of yet, unknown to us. However without further analysis, our work has been sparse, and based only on conjecture.”

The room shifted a little as she supplied sketched images of the aliens based on the descriptions the Admiral was able to give. Her heart had slowed a little in this time, but began to speed up again as she came to the real point of her presentation.

“But I have really been asked here today to give you all a threat assessment about what my department has labeled as Supernal Threats” there was a shift in the crowd, “These threats are categorized as being of unknown origin or power output. In all cases they are sentient, and in most cases their motivations are completely unknown. We have ranked these threats on a sliding scale of power to hostility.” She motioned to the board, “Our first Supernal threat comes in the form of the starborn hive queens.” She flipped through a few images, “These images were captured by footage taken from Admiral Vir’s space suit over a year and a half ago.”

There was a muttering around the room as the image showed a large white, humanoid figure towering high into the overhead of the camera.

“Based on mathematical analysis of these images, we are willing to base the size of the creature at almost ten stories tall, a size only possible by way of little to no gravitational input. She is seen as having high hostility but relatively low power. This does not by any means mean she is not dangerous In fact she is capable of, somehow, telepathically crushing the life out of species she deems as “silent” or those species who are able to keep secrets. There is only one starborn known not to be hostile, and he has no further information to give. It is advised that she is approached with extreme caution.”

She flipped through a few more pictures of the massive celestial shape before flicking on to another image.

This one had no scale for reference and showed a massive curling shape glowing white blue against the blackness of space, “Our second Supernal Threat is the Leviathan, his and her power levels are relatively unknown though they are capable of creating self contained warp tunnels. For a living creature to generate the kind of power it would take to fold the universe is…. unfathomable . We have no idea what other kind of powers this creature has, but we have judged the power output of this creature to be high while their hostility level is marked as relatively low. According to his own report, Admiral Vir says that the creature saved him from Omnidroid airspace and warped them both back to the Burg homeworld on the tail end of the war. Again the ability to warp itself and another object with it would require vast amounts of energy though, as of now, we have no real idea where it is coming from. Based on the pictures we have seen, it is difficult to determine the dimensions of the creature, though experts estimate the leviathan to be nearly a mile long from nose to tail and wingtip to wingtip, while his mate is nearly one twentieth of that size.”

She took another deep breath and glanced quickly up att the human delegation box where Admiral Vir was sitting, “The last, and most recent threat is shrouded in the greatest unknowns. The UNSC has opened these classified documents to the rest of the GA as a gesture of good will, and concern for what this may mean. This last threat is a creature known only as Deus and has been mentioned slowly come into mention on multiple occasions by multiple sources. Generally his name is the only thing that is mentioned , and mostly only in context with humans. Strangely enough the other Supernal threats have been involved with nearly all mentions of his name mentioned at one point by an infected starborn, and a second time by the Leviathan, who also communicates telepathically . The power levels of Deus is unknown, though it seems he has both telepathic and telekinetic abilities. He has once been known to use some sort of astral projections, and he can…. Inhabit the bodies of humans.”

There was a murmuring around the council chamber.

“This is the one and only image we were able to capture of Deus.”

She flipped on the holo projection and the room grew to sudden dull roar.

In the image, Admiral Vir stood on cold hard metal surrounded by a nimbus of glowering white light. He had both arms held out, and his eyes glowed blue white, all around him stone was being turned into ash.

“This image was taken on the tail end of one of our operations at an unknown alien archeological site where inscriptions were found carved into the metal. Admiral Vir and a few other marines report the ability to read the unknown inscription, while others were unable. The inscription read “And with knowledge they did pass away andl pillars of stone were left by them and light came before them and the host surrounded them until they were brought up and none were left save pillars of stone, Woah be unto those who find this stone and read.” She paused as the room grew silent, “Literary analysis of the stones before they were destroyed determined that their closest linguistic relative….. Were human writing found in northern africa and southern parts of the middle east. A few scholars have noted a couple of lexical similarities to Hebrew, and Greek, both ancient human languages used in the writing and development of religious documents, though that relationship is only of passing interest.”

There was quiet around the room.

“Admiral Vir reports no memory from this incident, though it is remarkable to point out that while Deus was in charge, he was able to survive a full fifteen minutes on the face of a hostile planet with high concentration of CO2 and other deadly chemicals in the atmosphere. The radiation alone should have killed him in under five, and the chemicals should have burned his lungs in under ten. Even so he came out with only minor injuries and a week of anti radiation therapy after Deus left and he spent an additional half a minute exposed on the planet’s surface.”

She looked around at the delegation, “As of now, we know neither the power levels or the hostility of Deus. It seems that, as of now he is relatively neutral, but has been meddling in our galactic affairs. Any reports of his name or sightings of him should be immediately reported to the DIS.”

She stepped back as the crowd began to murmur and overhead the image of Deus stared down at him his borrowed hands outstretched, and glowing with power.”

She glanced upward at the box where Admiral Vir stood, and shivered slightly, remembering the look in his eyes earlier when they had met.

She knew it was just her imagination, but the thought was still strange and all too unnerving.

She had no doubt that Deus was their biggest current threat.

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fromtheplanethexagon · 5 years ago

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the robot problem: a critical look at tobecky, 5 years late

hello wordgirl fandom i am back :) and i have a lot of thoughts that i never got around to expressing before i moved on from the show. so be aware that everything i'm saying is based on my experiences during the 2012-2016 era of the fandom & state of tumblr in general, and i am not familiar with more recent fan content.

it's been over five years since the show ended, and @ifbrd reminded me (along with some great analysis) that while tobecky was super popular since before the show technically started (thanks to the play date shorts), it's pretty unhealthy in a lot of ways that tend to be excused or flat out ignored in fanworks. i'd like to reflect on that a bit (a lot); specifically, how both the show and the fandom approached this enemies-to-lovers ship, and how easily this ship can slip into uncomfortable territory if we're careless about how we interpret the ship and create fan content of it.

i will admit, i'm mostly writing this as a response to past me and my old creations - though i moved on from the show as a whole years ago, i do like taking the time to reflect on old interests once in a while, and reevaluating my thoughts on them. and this ship is probably the biggest one that still lurks in the corners of my mind once in a while, so let's go.

cherish is the word: a short positive note before a much longer negative one

i wanted to start this essay off with some positivity, because i am going to be very negative after this. tobecky was, in some ways, cute. it's obvious from the very beginning that these two characters are on pretty equal ground, even if one of them isn't aware of it. and that's part of the fun - the irony of how unaware tobey is that his nemesis/crush/person that pretty much always wins against him is someone that he completely dismisses as incompetent. i want to point this out because honestly, in general i don't like enemies-to-lovers because a lot of them use a power imbalance within the dynamic, and i hate power imbalances, especially when it comes to actual life-or-death scenarios (at least, as much as cartoons can do that). in most episodes, becky is never actually forced to go along with his wishes. she's not held in a 'date' against her will, nor is she ever really outwitted by him. i bring this up because there is one huge, uncomfortable exception, which i will get to later.

another big plus to the ship is the fact that they just... get along? even when fighting? of course we get brief moments where they just hang out and talk about paintings or whatever, but i'm talking about how much they get each other, even if they don't realize it. like the word banter, for example. been there since day one. becky loves words, and while most other people in her life don't really care (ranging from 'eh, that's cool i guess' to her brother calling it annoying), tobey gives her a chance to show off and thus treats her as a worthy adversary as herself, not because of her more generic superpowers - something that we've seen in canon that she feels self-conscious about (see: her motivation in patch game). one of the less noticed examples, to me, is "it's your party and i'll cry if I want to", because it's just - okay. they both are excluded from a social event, and while it's obvious that tobey deals with it by destroying the city, it's also pretty obvious that becky also deals with her frustration by fighting in that battle. like, yes, realistically it's just objectively bad that he's destroying buildings. but they're also providing each other with a way to work through their frustrations, first by fighting and then by talking things out, and finally by hanging out together instead of dwelling on being excluded from the party.

so it makes a lot of sense to me that many tobecky fans gravitated towards writing far-in-the-future fic, usually by implying that some growth had taken place before starting to write the ship. (there are, as far as i'm aware, 2... maybe 3 exceptions, that take the time to attempt a real redemption for him, at least when i left the fandom.) because if you take away his worst moments, either by reasoning out that he was 10 years old and a mess, or that he was a cartoon character in a cartoon world where everyone's actions are over-the-top, or by just flat-out pretending that certain episodes never happened, there's some pretty solid ground to start a ship on.

go gadget go: we all do not see it, we simply close our eyes (review of canon)

when the show began, i was the same age as the characters. a lot of other people were, too - at least in my cohort of the fandom. i think it's pretty safe to say that many of us have fond memories of the show's earlier seasons, and held on to that interest as we got older, for whatever reasons. so like, not to be all 'as an OG fan...', but i remember seeing the shorts air for the first time in 2006. i have a diary entry in july of 2009 about how i, a 12yo with no concept of the idea of 'shipping', was disappointed in the new tobey episode because i wanted more tobecky interactions. (that was robo-camping, btw, lol.) and so i remember how exciting their rivalry felt, watching them as someone literally their exact same age, and then watching that again as a nostalgic 17yo, and then uh... growing up, to put it frankly, and realizing just how unhealthy most of their interactions were.

okay what i meant to say was, this section is an overview of the relationship's canon portrayal throughout the years.

first, we have early tobecky: this includes the shorts and the first few seasons. this is their classic relationship: he likes her and takes robots on rampages to get her attention, she majorly disapproves and has fun taking him down. we've all seen the show, you know what i'm talking about. his backhanded ways of trying to find out her identity often feature prominently in the episodes, which - sigh, i've mentioned this whole issue before, but it's kind of a grey area in the whole uncomfortable-factor thing, because while trying to find out her identity is VERY invasive, it's something that like... everyone in the show tries to do, even her canon crush (scoops). on the one hand, it's really not a great look, but on the other hand, this is a cartoon meant to parody a genre in which this trope is extremely common. so i just wanna say that i have Issues and Thoughts on this aspect of their relationship, but there are other things i find more important to discuss here.

second, we have late tobecky: this is seasons 7-8. this is... a very strange and huge shift from the previous dynamic, though it's not necessarily obvious. what i mean by that is that for some reason, the show writers made it so that half of tobey’s rampages have nothing to do with his crush on wordgirl, even though that used to be the sole reason for his villainy. seriously. we have the birthday episode, where he's upset because he feels left out; wg vs tobey vs the dentist, where he's mad that he has a cavity; and trustworthy tobey, where his robot goes on a rampage... after becky accidentally makes it malfunction. the two outliers are ‘guess who’s coming to thanksgiving dinner’ and ‘patch game’, but they still differ from previous seasons because 1) his destruction is isolated to a forest far away from the city, and 2) his motive is still to impress wordgirl, but his methods are relatively tame. also he completely gives up on the secret identity thing??? i may have missed some things but i think he straight up tells her 'yeah there's no way you're wordgirl, lol' and the subject is just dropped for the rest of the show.

i also want to include 'the robot problem' here, because it's one of two season 6 tobey episodes, and follows the 'doesn't destroy buildings to get her attention' pattern: in fact, he teams up with her to try and stop someone else from going on a rampage (even if his reasons are selfish, lol).

and finally. the other season 6 episode. we have go gadget go, the bane of my time spent in the fandom. because GGG is the single episode where tobey truly manages to take away her autonomy, and proceeds to abuse that power for an extended period of time, for his own amusement. it's bad. it's Very Bad. put in the context that it's a white boy doing this to an (ambiguously) brown girl, it's REALLY REALLY BAD. and the more i look back on it, tbh, the more weirded out i am that the show not only made it seem like she wasn't affected at all within the episode, it just... forgot about it (which is not unusual for shows and especially children’s shows, but WG does make some efforts to either retain continuity or create canon reasons for why things are forgotten about). it's the kind of thing that you can't excuse and honestly you can't redeem (like at this point, you gotta ask yourself why you're spending so much effort trying to redeem this guy when becky has several other possible ships that are nowhere near this unhealthy - violet, scoops, honestly even victoria if you want another hero/villain ship, my absolute fave rarepair rose, etc).

so if you want to still ship it you have to just pretend that it never happened. (i remember trying for weeks to write something exploring the aftermath of this episode, to try and make myself feel better about it, but the more i wrote the more i realized just how traumatic this event should've been, so i eventually just dropped it.) and i brought up my own timeline of experiences earlier to point out that this episode aired eight whole years after the show started. which means that when i saw it, even though i was a huge stickler for canon at the time, i'd built up my own idea of the show and characters strongly enough to go 'yeah, no, this episode sucks and i am going to pretend that it doesn't exist'. and i think a lot of other people did too, because i really saw like... no one mention it, ever, except for some rogue fanfics over on ff dot net that already liked dynamics like that.

because here's the thing, and i don't know if people nowadays are aware of it? but i'm 80% sure (cannot find a source, so the other 20% is that it was just a rumor) that the show was originally supposed to end after season 6. and even if it's a rumor, it makes a ton of sense, because we get 1) an 'ending' to tobecky, which is a bad one, 2) a permanent wordgirl identity reveal that significantly changes one of the major dynamics in the show, 3) an episode where TJ gets to work with wordgirl and get a nice potential ending for their sibling dynamic, 4) an episode where we see Two-Brains explore life without his henchmen... the list goes on, and idk how many of these are just major stretches. but the point is. if the show had ended there, that would've been a pretty solid ending for many things, including their relationship: aka, it would prove that it was only ever heading somewhere bad, and when tobey finally has his moment of triumph, he is truly evil about it. and this provides us fans who HATE go gadget go with an easy reason to dismiss it - we can say that it was an attempt to conclude things in a way that wouldn't have happened if the writers had known they'd get more time. but despite that... it is still a canon episode.

it is odd to me how dramatically the dynamic shifts after that, though, because we seriously go from 'worst case ever, tobecky is toxic, your ship is dead' to 'no actually they get along and hang out and get ice cream together and tobey isn't even pressuring her into it, she's happy to go along with it :)' like, immediately. i never knew much about the show writers, so i don't know if the writers changed in between these seasons, but i would absolutely not be surprised if they did.

the earlier episodes are definitely problematic as well (though they pale in comparison to GGG) but i think everyone who ships it is aware considering that tobey is, yknow, a villain. from memory, he destroys buildings to get her attention, lies to her about the level of danger that people are in to trick her into spending more time with him, blackmails her into reading his poetry, and he creates a robot based on her that’s supposed to be devoted to him (but of course, all of these things backfire). not great stuff of course, but like... he’s a villain, that’s the point of his character. and considering that he’s a child these are things that can be redeemed, if done thoughtfully.

anyway, to sum up this section, the show starts off with a pretty standard 'enemies with an unrequited crush' setup, takes a really dark turn for a single episode, and then for the rest of the show takes their dynamic in a direction that makes it much, much easier to ship. as long as you ignore a lot of previous content.

wordbot: where's becky's autonomy in all of this? (misogyny)

we've finally gotten to the fandom. i recognize that a lot of this is going to come across as hypocritical considering how active i used to be re: this ship, but like... i'm a very different person now. anyway. disclaimer i guess - i don't write this to accuse all tobecky shippers of being like this - i know a lot of us aren't/weren't! but boy do i have things to point out, so without further ado:

it is very hard to ship this without allowing some bit of misogyny to slip into it. very, very hard. the entire premise of the ship involves a girl falling in love with a boy that repeatedly pressures her to date him via threats to the safety of herself and people she cares about, which... it's 2020, i shouldn't have to explain why that's terrible & a terrible example to set for children (which is why i am glad they never made it canon, tbh). best-case fan content has tobey stop pressuring her and start working to redeem himself out of an actual change of heart, which leads to becky seeing him in a new light. worst-case fan content treats his incessant pressuring and sometimes outright threats as something romantic - and even worse, romantic to the point where he deserves her attention and love as a reward for not giving up or whatever. i did see this pretty frequently for a while, especially in the earlier 2010s (didn't read much, Not My Thing At All), but i don't feel like going into detail here because of how obviously problematic it is. one medium (but still bad) case is where the fan content makes him start his redemption, but treats her liking him back as a reward for not knocking buildings over anymore. another not great case is where she tries to fix him with her love, which is a very common and very dangerous romantic trope. both are just... so incredibly unfair to her.

in content where she tries to 'fix him'... yeah i feel like it's really obvious how misogynistic that is. girls and women should not feel responsible for the evil actions of men, plain and simple. idk what else to say here i just really hate that trope and hated it back then and it just sucks! so can we not do that anymore, thanks.

in content that treats her like a reward for good behavior, there really isn't much of an explanation for what she sees in him. if she just goes 'oh wow, you're good now, i am going to fall in love with you for it' the whole thing falls flat because it makes NO sense whatsoever. we get to hear so much about tobey and his feelings and why he likes her and how he feels about it, but where is that energy for becky? why does she choose to trust him, to spend time around him, what does she enjoy about his presence? where is her getting over scoops in the process of falling for tobey? where is her telling her friends about this, confiding in them, asking them for advice? where is her choice in the matter?

win a day with wordgirl: do you guys even like becky or do you just like the idea of her (misogyny... 2!)

it was pretty standard for all fandoms the early-mid 2010s, but that's still not a good excuse for why so many tobecky fanfictions centered specifically around tobey's feelings while refusing to give becky the same level of empathy and nuance. it is true that to ship them comfortably you have to redeem him to some degree, which means spending time figuring him out and trying to find ways to pull him to the light without feeling super OOC. but ships take two people??? and there was so much potential for fanfics to explore becky's complex feelings on the matter - because she is! complex! she's heroic and kind but she's petty and has a competitive streak, she easily befriends villains but also doesn't trust them and doesn't believe they can ever really change, she's the savior of an entire planet but has feelings of inadequacy as her civilian identity and struggles with feeling like she can be successful without superpowers, she's great at the straightforward meanings and uses of words and loves reading but struggles to write passages that aren't dry as hell, it can be easily headcannoned that she's neurodivergent (special interests, issues with fitting in with her peers, taking things very literally, etc)... seriously there is SO MUCH to explore about her character, and a lot of it comes into play when you add tobey into the mix (literally ALL of the things i mentioned are explored at some point using tobey as a parallel or foil), but i rarely saw fanfiction that explored her thoughts on things further than 'he's evil but... maybe good?' or 'he's evil but... i kind of like him anyway?'.

if you want her to fall for him while being a villain, explore it!! why does she go against her morals? does she lie to herself about it to feel better? does she feel like she has to 'fix him' as part of her superhero duties to the city, and if so, how does that affect her as she tries and fails to help him? does she fall for him when she believes that he's turning good, only to feel betrayed when he starts acting worse because he feels like he can get away with it? it's such a shame that fanworks spend so little time even considering these questions, and it is absolutely a product of how deeply misogyny is/was baked into how we approach media (especially back then).

tobey goes good: but wait, i thought this show was progressive (a conclusion, i guess)

ifbrd wrote a great meta recently about how the show is a bit misogynist, despite being progressive in several ways. honestly i don't have much to add, but i'd really recommend reading through this; it makes a lot of great observations about the ways that male and female characters are presented differently through the show

i have little to add, so i'd just like to conclude with a reflection on the ship from my current viewpoint. i do think part of the reason so many of us latched onto the ship, despite how obviously problematic it was, is that the show treats a lot of things that would be serious in real life as normal or even comedic - which is fine lol, i'm not going to pretend that it's not a show for little kids, so they have to keep the tone light.

but if we, as teens/adults, decide to engage with this content in a more realistic manner, we have to be prepared to confront how messed up so many of the things going on really are. and if you still want to ship it, there's nothing inherently wrong with that! there's a lot of interesting things to explore in this ship, no matter what stage of enemies-to-friends-to-lovers you write them at, and it can be really helpful to have a space where you can explore a dynamic such as this in fiction. (speaking from experience here tbh, writing some fic for them helped me deal with complicated feelings about some ex-longtime friends.)

so to write this ship at all means that there are canon issues that you need to deal with if you want to have them end up in a healthy relationship in any manner that makes sense (unless you create an AU where none of that is applicable, which, power to you then). and i’m not saying ‘write them with a healthy endgame or you’re Bad’, not at all lol. but at least please, please take a step back once in a while to examine the dynamic that you’re writing, and please be careful about whether you mean to be romanticizing whatever behaviors you end up portraying as good.

#wordgirl #becky botsford #tobey mccallister #tobecky #tobecky critical #has anyone ever used that tag before LMAO #anyway: i may come back and reword the ending because i am not totally happy with it #but wow this is so many words. so many. send help

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aellynera · 5 years ago

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Calavera (Santiago Garcia x Reader)

(ok, so, it’s been a while since i posted my writing. it’s not that i haven’t been writing, but i’ve started like eight things and nothing felt completely right. so, yeah. then tonight, boom.)

CALAVERA (Santiago Garcia x Reader)

Word Count: 2120(ish)

Summary: It’s a day of celebration, in more ways than one.

Warnings: A naughty innuendo but nothing else, not even a language warning, I’m not sure what got into me. It’s all fluffy.

“Baby, hold still,” Santiago commanded, his hand lightly slapping your knee to emphasize his point.

“Sorry,” you muttered. You straightened your back, let out a deep breath, and tried to comply.

Your eyes were closed so all you saw was dancing blackness. The wet, pasty feeling on your face almost made you jump but you held your reaction down as best you could and hoped Santiago didn’t notice.

He had asked to paint you. Your first response, with a laugh, had been, “Like one of your French girls?” and Santiago swore if you ever made a joke like that again, he wouldn’t be painting you with paint. Then you had asked, completely (not) innocently, what the problem with that was and how exactly was that even a threat, which led to a half-hour delay in the original mission and another half-hour of showering and grabbing some clean clothes.

None of which you were sorry for, by the way. Not at all.

So, then Santiago asked if he could paint you for real. Your face, specifically, as a calavera. A sugar skull. Today was November 1, and for him it held special significance. It was Day of the Dead, Día de Muertos. And although Santiago was neither Mexican nor particularly Catholic, at least not in a practicing sense any more, he could hardly deny the day was especially significant for him, both in his past and, possibly, more meaningful now in his adulthood.

In his past, because of the memories associated with his parents’ celebrating every year. The altars and the food and all the magical colors that flowed through the air. And the skeletons. As a kid, those were always cool.

In his present, to remember all the family and friends and comrades he had lost. Those he had loved and cherished and would never be forgotten.

You were also neither Mexican nor particularly religious, especially not Catholic, but you could appreciate the meaning behind the holiday and were happy to celebrate with him.

So when Santiago asked, a second time, if he could paint your face, you immediately said yes.

Which is now how you found yourself in your home office, the one you shared with your boyfriend, with every single light in the room flipped on - we need proper lighting conditions, Santiago had insisted. You were perched in a swivel chair, your eyes closed and your boyfriend, perched in his own chair across from you, humming a merry tune and occasionally singing a lyric in Spanish as he did, in fact, paint your face with actual paint this time.

Quite a few minutes had passed since he brought a brush laden with wet goop to your face. “Santi? What are you doing, can I please open my eyes?” you asked, anxious to find out exactly what he was doing.

“Mmm, not yet, cariño,” Santiago replied. You felt a brush land on your nose, the tickle immediately taking hold of your senses as he began to paint again. “Keep ‘em closed until I say so.”

“Santiiiiii,” you whined, annoyed with both the feeling and his sentiment. A centipede crawling across your toes would be more welcome than the intense prickling under the bristles of his paintbrush.

You heard the amusement in his voice as he repeated, “Baby. Just sit still.”

‘Fine,” a huff escaped your lips. “I just don’t...why is there like an hour between what you paint on me, it’s not like we have mirrors in here so I don’t understand why I can’t open my eyes, and what the hell are you doing when you’re not doing things to my face?”

His brush continued its work as he considered your questions and answered them in turn. “Well, one, it’s not an hour, it’s like 10 minutes so I can let the paint dry before working on the next part. Two, because if you keep your eyes closed, your face stays in the same position and it makes this a lot easier and the end result much better.”

You made a small grunt of reluctant understanding at that.

“And three, I actually do have a small mirror in here, so I can work on my face while the paint on yours sets.”

“Wait. You’ve been painting your own face this whole time?”

“Of course I have,” Santiago replied with a genuine laugh. “It’s an important day. I’m not gonna paint yours and not have one to match.”

“I don’t even get how you can paint your own face, and why have we never done this before?”

“I’ve been doing this for years, honey. Well, I mean, I haven’t actually done it for a while, but it seemed like a good time to start again. Painting my own face isn’t that hard since I’ve done it so much, and I have done my own camo before.”

“I imagine this is a little different than camo.”

“Different, yes, but not necessarily easier. Just different. Now will you please stop talking and stay still, I need to work on your lips and cheeks,” Santiago said sternly.

Your breath snaked out of your lungs and you used every ounce of self-control to stop moving, but before you let your body go lax and still, you asked quickly, “Can you tell me the meaning behind the calavera again? I know I’ve heard it before, but...can you just keep talking? If I focus on your voice, it’ll help me stop squirming.”

“That’s not what happened earlier,” Santiago smirked.

“Santi,” you giggled, then tried to act as stern as he had been a few moments ago. “You’re not helping.”

“Sorry, mi amor,” he replied quietly, the brush now painting lines on your lips. He continued in a warm, slow voice that nearly put you under, but you fought off the insistent call of sleep.

“Okay, so Día de Muertos is when we remember and pray for family and friends who have passed on. The calaveras, or sugar skulls, represent those people. The large one are for adults, and the small ones are for children. They can be decorative, or edible, or artistic like the ones I’m painting on our faces. It’s a huge holiday in Mexico, and my family always celebrated it since we were Catholic, and I’ve always just really liked the artistry in the face-painting so I learned how to do it. Now let that dry and then I’ll do the rest of the design.”

You sighed and sat back. You heard him humming to himself again, presumably as he worked on his own face, and waited.

A warm vestige of sleep did take you under this time, and when you felt wet paint hit your forehead, you nearly went through the ceiling, almost springing out of your chair. You probably would have made an actual hole above you, but Santiago’s strong hands pressed you to the leather beneath you.

You briefly considered that hole wouldn’t have been a total loss. You wanted to put a ceiling fan in that room anyway. You tried your best to clear your sleepy cobwebs without actually shaking your head.

“Baby,” he chided.

“I know, I know, stay still,” you muttered, returning to upright.

Santiago shook his head, even though you couldn’t see him. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“You’re lucky I love you,” your voice remained a mutter.

“You know,” he replied, “I could paint, like, all of you. That would be really sexy.”

This time, you chose not to verbally respond and you kicked his foot instead.

“Ow,” he grumbled. “Party pooper.”

“Just finish the job, Santiago.”

“Yes ma’am.”

He worked in silence for a few minutes more, adding...dots?...around your eyes - as far as you could tell with them still closed - and what felt like teardrop shapes on your forehead, and swirly shapes on your cheeks.

Santiago finally made a noise, humming in satisfaction. “Okay, baby, you’re done. Now, just hang out like that for a few more minutes while I finish mine, yeah?”

“No,” you whined under your breath, making Santiago laugh. You laughed with him. He knew for all the trouble of making you sit still for so long, you were kidding, and he was grateful for it.

As you pushed your chair back slightly, you turned slow circles. You may still have to sit there, but at least you could do something other than just sit there now.

Mostly, you really wondered what Santiago was up to. You could hear him get out of his chair. You could hear vague rustling out in the living room, and then in your bedroom. You felt the change in air current when he came back into the office and hear several soft *fwick* sounds. You could hear his once-again humming voice, and noticed that his song had changed to…

That song. Your song. The song that was playing the first time you both said I love you.

“You can open your eyes now, mi amor,” Santiago called, a gentle whisper.

Gentle, flickering candlelight met your gaze first, the small mirror and your reflection in front of you second.

White paint was the backdrop on your face, with your eyes, nose, and lower cheeks blacked out, and black lines representing teeth painted over your lips. Purple dots ringed your eyes. A red flower and blue teardrop shapes graced your forehead, and various swirl patterns came down from your forehead and lined your cheeks. A red heart sat on your chin.

You had no idea your boyfriend was this creative and this talented. Another of Santiago Garcia’s hidden gifts.

“Santi, I lov---” you started, but then you noticed the third thing.

Santiago’s face.

Hovering directly above the small mirror, Santiago’s face looked mostly the same as yours. Same colors, minus the flower, more teardrops, and the dots surrounding his eyes were green, but otherwise, the same patterns. Except for the words.

Except for the words.

Above his right eyebrow, will.

Above his left eyebrow, you.

On his right cheek, marry.

On his left cheek, me.

You were pretty sure your eyes would pop out of your now-sugar-skull if they got any wider. Your lips parted but nothing came out.

Santiago lowered the mirror, tossing it onto the nearby desk. He sat back down on his office chair and took both of your hands in his. An eyebrow cocked and the corner of his mouth curled up before he pulled his bottom lip nervously with his teeth.

After a good minute, your brain reactivated. “Santi,” you started, “not that I have to think about my answer, but I do have my own question.”

“Okay?” his voice was still soft, and you could hear the slight waver in it. He really was nervous.

“Something tells me that’s not traditional Día de Muertos calavera design, so…?” you trailed off, cocking an eyebrow back at him.

He nodded. “You would be correct,” he smiled fully now, “but one of the really old meanings behind calaveras was rebirth into the next stage of life. And that’s what I felt when I met you and got to know you. I got to leave all the bad things I did in my past behind and spend all the good times in the present with you. And I want to spend them with you in the future, forever. You’re my rebirth, my next stage, my forever. So...what do you say?”

You didn’t stop the springing out of your chair this time. You pounced into Santiago’s lap, nearly knocking you both off his chair as you cupped the sides of his face. Part of your brain hazily registered that you were smearing his face paint, and your own with your tears running down your cheeks, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

Not even a little bit, not about that.

“Yes!” you cried. “Of course I’ll marry you.”

Santiago responded by pulling your closer and pressing his lips to yours, over and over, while his hands held your face.

After a few minutes, you both separated for air, and you couldn’t help the small groan that left your mouth.

“What’s wrong, baby?” Santiago whispered, pressing his forehead to yours.

You motioned between the two of you, and grabbed the mirror so he could see what you were talking about. The beautiful paint job he had done was now completely destroyed, colors mixing and smearing, like an artist’s palette that had been dropped on the floor and then stepped on.

Or a clown with very dubious make-up application skills.

“The paint. You’re going to have to redo all this paint.”

Santiago laughed. You were right. The initial beauty was gone, but something even more magnificent had taken its place.

“Worth it.”

~end~

Tagging: @anetteaneta @darksideofclarke @girlwiththemostcake @deeandbobbymcgee @itspdameronthings @rosemarysbaby13 @writefightandflightclub @spider-starry @yourbucky084 @iamthe-shadow-on-the-wall @veuliee2 (tag list always open - inbox me or comment if you’d like to be tagged)

#santiago pope garcia x reader #santiago garcia #oscar isaac characters #writing #fanfic

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