#And he fucking AGONIZED over the decision to get a new ship
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Actually genuinely started crying when Luffy almost said he wanted Usopp off the ship and then Sanji interrupted and yelled at him. What the hell. This shit is so sad what the FUCK bro
#In TEARS rn. Esp bc they’re really driving it in hard how MUCH the entire crew cares about Usopp#Even Sanji and Zoro who aren’t overly affectionate with him#My heart is BREAKING my kokoro is brokoro!! THAT SHIT HURTED!!!!#When Luffy and Usopp started arguing that’s when the waterworks started. I was sitting there like 🥺😭 my sweet darling boys pls don’t fight#The boys are fighting 😔#Also it’s understandable why Usopp’s in denial and doesn’t want to let the Merry go but it’s also SO frustrating#Bc he’s clearly making it out to be that Luffy doesn’t care about the Merry#When in fact Luffy was probably the MOST upset at having to let her go#And he fucking AGONIZED over the decision to get a new ship#It’s a burden as the captain and he accepted everything that came with it#But Usopp just. Doesn’t get that. Bc he’s got too much of his own personal shit going on#And Luffy is upset that Usopp would even think he didn’t take the time and consideration to think over what to do with the Merry……#ZERO trust there. Usopp’s majorly disrespecting Luffy. I bet Zoro in particular is Not happy about that#God this arc is written so well. I’m so upset. I’m SO upset#Lies down#One Piece#Shima speaks
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Build A Bear | Black Noir x GN!Reader
yo so last week or smth i went to build a bear with my little relatives and when i saw chubby cubby (look it up you wont be disappointed) i fell in love, then i was struck with inspiration. so my chonky teddy bear and i hope you enjoy this lmao
warnings: heavy cursing, SPOILERS FROM S2 but not too specific in the bulleted fic? still be warned. other than that pretty mild, fluffy? yeah fluffy and probably ooc for black noir but whatevs
VAGUE (but still) SPOILER AUTHOR'S NOTE AT BOTTOM OF POST!!!!!!!!! DO NOT READ BEYOND THE ###
when news spread of Black Noir being in critical condition, a lot of internal questions were raised at Vought: who did this? was it an accident? was it on purpose? was it another supe? how can we market off this? etc
once crisis control handled the public nightmare that was social media and news outlets (special thanks to Cameron!), did the flood gates open
in the first few days, there were countless cards and money chip-ins for charity donations that Black Noir advocated for
i mean you could not take a shit without someone thrusting a card in your face and saying, "Wanna write something sweet to Noir so he gets better soon?"
hence came the little lie, "oh, i already got him something with a card. thanks tho"
you worked in the crime analysis department, so you did not have a close relationship with Black Noir personally
but that didn't mean you felt bad; i mean, critical condition? you had to give him something
and people at Vought would easily find out you lied and who knows what would happen then?
there are definitely some snakes in the grass if you know what i mean
but what would you get him? everyone else was giving cards and flowers and balloons. no doubt his hospital room is flooded with all those things
so while you're agonizing over what to get him because god forbid snakes figure out your "white" lie, you're stuck on babysitting duty for a friend's eight-year-old kid one day
while you're not too hip on what eight-year-old kids do in their spare time nowadays, you decide to take them to the ol' reliable of your childhood: the mall
as you both are walking around bored out of your minds do you see the answer to your agony: the holy golden glow of build-a-bear workshop
you have to drag the kid you're babysitting inside, but they dont put up a fight for long when they see a stuffed animal they like
unfortunately, you dont see anything you like, but you buy the kid your babysitting his bear (a frog dressed like Obi-Wan)
At the check out do you see another saving grace: "exclusive customizable bears online! order one today!!"
so the second you drop the kid off and you're at home, you immediately go incognito on your browser
you buy a stuffed (animal of your choice) and dress it up like Black Noir because build a bear is in an obvious partnership with Vought for younger consumer marketability
for the extra hell of it, you buy a "get well soon" shirt bc you thought how cute it would be to put it over the Black Noir getup
for the customization, on all 4 paws do you write: Black (front right) Noir (front left) For (back right) Ever! (back left)
you buy expedited shipping and when it finally arrives, you put on the get well soon shirt over the black noir outfit, but you stop from putting on the black noir helmet
why you didnt put on the helm was beyond you. maybe because you thought the sentimentality was stronger since you're recognizing he's still human beneath the suit??
who the fuck knows, anyway
you ask Ashley to give it to Noir (which took a lot of convincing, and a pricey meal for lunch).
funnily enough, you dont leave a card or any sign the gift was from you
you doubted yourself and regretted your decision because why not
but as long as you got him something with a little more personalization (and therefore make your lie true), you'd live with it
and forget about it eventually lol
fast forward like a few months
Black Noir recovered and had just finished his tour across the country selling his bullet-proof backpacks
you indeed forgot about the bear as time went on
one day you're at work and fucking around on the company computer to pass time when you feel a very warm and very heavy hand on your shoulder
the entire crime analysis department goes gravely silent
*sweatinglikeJordanPeelememe*
you slowly turn in your creaking office chair, and stare into the bottomless abyss that was Black Noir's goggles
he gestures for you talk outside privately (a secondary location? aw hell naw) but you oblige
as you both walk out of the department, the looks your co-workers give you... one of them even salutes you off
oh jeez oh fuck oh jeez oh fuck x100
when you're both outside in the back where there's literally not a single soul in sight, do you apologize
because its Black Noir, and of course he knew that was your gift
"ah jeez, Mr. Noir, sir, im sorry if you didn't like the bear. I didn't mean to offend you, please dont--"
and then the most confusing fucking thing happens
he pulls out a motherfuckin build-a-bear which was your favorite animal (how did he know?) wearing a freakin "thanks a bunch" shirt
*confusedwhiteguyblink*
he holds it out to you; you're quick to snap out of whatever fucking dream this was and gingerly take it from him
then you start giggling, relieved and so bewildered because what the fuck???
"hey...thank you," because of course you would say thank you for a thank you gift
and as if the day couldnt get any fucking weirder
Black Noir pulls you into a hug
like, a minute-long hug
while you're not as quick as earlier, you still reciprocate the hug—you even gently (read: awkwardly) pat his back!!
and then he removes himself from the hug, stares at you, then fucks off doing Black Noir shit
for a place of honor, you keep the toy right next to your monitor and look at it whenever you're feeling not like yourself
also, coincidentally, when Black Noir needs something from your department, he goes right to you and only you!!
#
i get the vibe that no one really cares about Black Noir at Vought; so i personally headcanon that except for the kiss-ass usual gifts, he got jack shit while at the hospital, if any at all. that's why i headcanon? imagine? that the second someone puts some thought into a get well soon gift like reader does, he's over the moon. my boy needs positive attention!! 😭😭😭
#the boys amazon#black noir the boys#black noir#black noir x reader#the boys tv#the boys headcanons#black noir imagine#black noir headcanon
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Okay for the wip game: green!
A very rough idea for an AU where Lasky and the Infinity go rogue. Tried to make it easy to read and skip the notes, but eh. It's rough, what can I say.
---
He didn't like it.
He'd spent the entire slipspace trip trying to justify the orders. Trying to rationalize them.
He'd done the same thing when Osman had ordered him to execute Dr. Halsey.
Not execute...to murder.
Since [Last Major Thing...Covenant war?], there had been a few years of relative peace. Something Thomas hadn't seen since Circinus...
But something in the back of his mind told him it wouldn't last, and sure enough as soon as the outer colonies had approached the UEG and asked for independence (something something the UEG goes oh hah yeah fucking right losers) the Insurrection had once more boiled into a full-blown war. And this time, the insurrectionists had new allies; former Covenant were all too happy to supply the Insurrectionists with weapons and ships (something the UNSC hasn't been able to put down the rebellion or at least keep it in check near as well? as they had prior to the covenant war, so they decide to bring Infinity in for another refit, add a bunch of PDCs and idk maybe replace the spine mounted mac cannons with something like the covenant's plasma weapons? The ones u can steer using magnets so the ship doesn't have to turn or whatever)
The bridge was silent. Nobody moved from their post, the crew simply stayed in place, looking at him expectantly.
(Lasky spends the whole trip to X system agonizing over his order to slap down a whole colony just bc they want to be left alone, and can't find a way to rationalize it. Does he hear rumors that others share his discontent with their orders? Sarah would take his side and probably grouse abt it. Infinity gets to X system and Communication with the colony is had, at which point Lasky decides that court martial is better than having blood on his hands over this bullshit. Maybe FLEETCOM is all like Lasky why the fuck arent you mopping the floor w these colonists yet and he just straight up says he's not gonna and cuts transmission, 'you'll have to replace me' or smth.)
"Sir," Roland said as his avatar appeared in the holotank "I think I speak for the crew when I say we're with you."
(Lasky is anxious but this decision feels much better, especially with support from the crew and Palmer, he prepares to make his move)
"Roland, please mark all UNSC assets not attached to Infinity as 'hostile'."
"Yes, sir!" he replied. Almost instantly, a cascade of markers flipping from green to read spread outward from the Infinity's immediate vicinity.
(radio chatter goes from routine to surprised chaos as UNSC and Insurrectionists realize that the Infinity's IFF has changed, along with the IFF tags of almost all of her compliment of ships)
"Cry havoc, and let slip the dogs of war." Tom muttered quietly.
(break?)
"Fire at will! Aim to disable, not to kill!"
(Something PDCs firing looks like 'strings of golden stitches across the black tapestry of space')
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The apocalypse happened a few years ago. And- it's vague, the apocalypse. It's not some big earth-shattering moment. It's confused tv reports and impulse decisions and little growing bits of tension until the pot boils over.
The details are fuzzy; it all happened so quickly that many civilians were left unaware of what exactly went down. One day, they were living, and the next, most weren't.
Nukes, EMPs, solar flares - the survivors find it doesn't matter. One way or another, the world ended, millions died, and everything’s different. Hostile. Harsh. Unforgiving. The sun is bright and searing, and radiation burns skin not covered head-to-toe.
People are cruel and will take advantage of anything they can. If you're not a part of an already-existing group, good luck.
Somehow, two men end up on a wooden pallet floating in the middle of the ocean. Maybe it was a plane crash, one of the few still running downed by a stray shot; maybe a boat capsized, embrittled by the radiation. Same as the apocalypse, it doesn't matter. What does is that now they’re surrounded by debris and a shark thirsting for blood and there’s one thing they both know: trust no-one.
So they don’t. Names hold power, as they’ve learnt over the past few years; names imply trust. When it becomes apparent they’re stuck together and the time comes to introduce themselves, the elder of the two stares out to sea and says, “Call me...” And that phrase brings back memories of a book he’d read long ago, in the Before Days, and so he finishes, “Ishmael.”
The younger panics and blurts out the first thing that comes to mind: “I’m Gunk.”
‘Ishmael’ raises a skeptical eyebrow, clearly amused. “Gunk,” he repeats. And ‘Gunk’ nods, crosses his arms.
“Yeah, bitch. It’s...” his mind blanks, “Russian.”
Ishmael’s brow climbs further, and he looks on the verge of laughing, lips twisting ever-so-slightly upward. “Last name?”
“Uh,” Gunk wracks his brain, and something from a history class, years ago, stands out. Nearly forgotten amongst all the useless information - what he calls anything that doesn’t directly contribute to survival, nowadays - and only clinging on through his brain classifying it as ‘important’ for God-knows-why. “Gorbachov.”
“Like... Michael Gorbachov?” There’s a hint of laughter in Ishmael’s tone now, the first in a while. He tries not to let that thought depress him.
Gunk nods, relieved at the reminder of the rest of the name, even if he still can’t place it. “Yeah. He was my father.”
“Michael Gorbachov, eighth and final leader of Soviet Russia, was your father,” Ishmael deadpans, and, frustrated at having been outplayed, Gunk scowls.
“What of it?” he challenges, which makes Ishmael laugh, throwing his head back to the blistering sun high above.
“Okay, Gunk,” he says, and yet it doesn’t feel patronizing.
They both know the other is lying, that much is obvious from the constant teasing and jokes about Gunk’s ‘father.’ But it doesn’t matter, because in the slow turning of the days, they grow close. After all, there’s not much to do on a makeshift raft in the middle of the ocean, other than chat.
Ishmael is handy, and the main reason for their survival. He knows how to purify water and fillet a fish, how to add on to their raft without nails and swim against the ocean current. Gunk wonders where he picked all that up, but never asks.
(A survivalist father and paranoid brother, whom Ishmael hasn’t seen in half a decade. The thought that they’re probably still alive brings him comfort.)
Gunk, on the other hand, does most of the grunt work. Fishing in debris that floats by, diving down for rocks when they briefly dock, and the ever-important duty of keeping the shark they named Clive from destroying their miserly raft. He keeps up a steady stream of chatter through it all, and Ishmael thinks that’s what makes the monumental effort to go on worth it. Then, he wonders when he let himself get attached.
(It was a week or so in, when Gunk had fashioned himself a shelf out of the bottom of a storage bin and some planks, and proclaimed it his ‘comfort shelf.’ Gunk felt the same when Ishmael didn’t tell him to dismantle it, only pushed it aside, even though they were supposed to use that wood to repair Clive’s last attack.)
They survive, they grow closer, they hesitantly trust, and yet, they don’t pry. They don’t share their real names. Not until one day.
Ishmael goes swimming out to a nearby island to scavenge for food and chop down a few trees, if he can manage. Gunk stays on the ship - an anchor is next on their to-do list, and so he’s responsible for keeping it from drifting off with his tiny paddle. Except it’s not well-crafted, and grey jaws reach up to snap at the wood he’s standing on so he uses it to stab Clive, and the tip breaks off. The raft starts drifting away.
“Ishmael!” he calls, then again, louder, “Ishmael! Fuck, man!” But he’s nowhere to be seen, and the current is dragging Gunk awfully far out from the island.
He keeps calling, shouting, screaming, increasingly panicked at leaving his friend, the man who’d helped him survive for months, now, behind. Until his voice grows hoarse the way it never did from rambling for hours on end, and a little speck appears on the beach of the island.
Ishmael waves widely at him, and he must be shouting but Gunk can’t hear it over the lapping of the waves. So he assumes what was said, hollers, “I can’t fuckin’ come back, arsehole!” and raises the remains of the paddle over his head to clarify.
The speck stills, then bursts into motion, tossing everything he’s holding aside and shucking his shoes. Gunk can practically hear him mutter about what an “ridiculous child” he is, because although they’ve never shared their ages Ishmael’s decided he’s the elder of the two, which obviously means Gunk is a child.
And then Ishmael dives into the water, and he’s closing the distance between himself and the raft with each stroke. He cuts a straight line through the waves, until he suddenly swerves to the left. Gunk is confused a moment, before he notices - a grey fin jutting out of the water next to him.
Clive goes in for another pass, then another, and Ishmael jukes him out both times. He’s maybe five meters away, now, but the shark is coming back so Gunk screams. But Ishmael’s head is underwater, and he doesn’t hear. Just keeps going, towards safety he won't make it to.
Clive barrels into him. Ishmael vanishes underwater.
He doesn’t come back up.
Gunk is diving in before he can properly think, pushing past the cold shock of the sea, as he uses his self-taught skills to bring him to where he guesses Ishmael last was. Then, he takes a deep breath, squeezes his eyes shut, and goes under.
After a nervewracking few moments, his elbow bumps into something and he latches on, desperately dragging it upwards. They break the surface and he gasps for breath, Ishmael limp against him.
The trip back is agonizing. Ishmael is deadweight, their clothes are waterlogged, and Gunk has never been the best swimmer. But Clive is still lurking, and he refuses to drown after all this time, so he manages to drag them both back to the raft through pure willpower and spite.
Gunk collapses next to where he’d heaved Ishmael onto the planks, taking a second to compose himself. Shivering violently, he curls into a ball - he'll have to go for a spare change of clothes. His eyes drift shut. In a moment.
Then, panic seizes his heart as he becomes aware of how still Ishmael is. He jerks up, staring at him, searching for any sign of life, anything-
But a moment later he relaxes, when Ishmael rolls over and starts heaving out saltwater. Gunk reaches over and pats him on the back until it subsides, and he falls back onto the wood.
“You,” Ishmael says, letting his eyes flutter shut, “are so stupid.”
Gunk feels a burst of indignation. “Hey, what the fuck! I just saved your dumbass, Ish-ma-el.” He scowls at Ishmael’s placid little twist of the lips.
“Wilbur,” he murmurs, hands folded over his chest.
“What?”
“My name is Wilbur.”
Oh.
“I’m Tommy,” he says after a moment of silence where it sinks in, what he’d just been told, the trust laid on him, and then lays down next to Ishmael - Wilbur, now.
Wilbur just hums and wraps an arm under his shoulders, tugging him close - which is new; they’re really going all-in with this trust thing, huh? - then says, “So, so stupid.”
“Oi,” Tommy protests, but leans in closer.
Things aren’t really visibly different, after that. They still bicker, still do the same daily tasks, still slip up and call each other ‘Ishmael’ and ‘Gunk’ - though it becomes less and less common, other than with a teasing tone. They finally get their anchor, which means Tommy has the chance to go on land; though he quickly grows to dislike it after an incident with a particularly pissed-off boar.
To an outsider, everything remains the same. But to the inhabitants of the raft, it feels different. More homely. Warmer.
Once, after Wilbur chides Tommy over something or another, Tommy rolls his eyes and says, “You know, we really are like brothers.” He tries to keep his tone joking, and to not let himself hope for the words to be true.
Wilbur freezes. “Don’t say that; I’ll cry.” He blinks once to keep the tears at bay, and tries to push down the warmth in his chest.
(They both fail.)
About four months in, a light appears in the distance, at night. They angle their sail towards it and the dark shadow on the horizon. A few days later, it becomes apparent what it is: a lighthouse.
Inhabited land. Civilization.
They gather their meagre supplies once they dock, then ditch the raft in favour of climbing the lighthouse. And, from the top, off over a hill, Wilbur spots it first, points it out to his brother, who squints-
A Dome.
#wilbur soot#tommyinnit#Fic#enderspeak#sbi rust#crimeboys#Love how we all saw that stream and went#''Yes. Those are the Rust boys.''#Also I can't write anymore apparently. Pain
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Title: Who Do You Want Me to Be?
Collaborator Name: ceealaina
Card:
TSB - 4008
IHB - 2007
Link: AO3
Square Filled:
TSB A1 - Tony Stark/James Rhodes
IHB G3 - Guilt
Ship: IronHusbands
Rating: Explicit
Major Tags: Friends to Lovers, Pining, Pre-Iron Man 1
Summary: It's the early 90s and Rhodey's just returned stateside with a shiny new promotion. So of course Tony turns up like a one-man USO troupe to help him celebrate. And all of a sudden Rhodey's seeing Tony in a whole new light.
Word Count: 7908
Rhodey sighed and rolled his neck, trying to stave off the headache he could feel building in his skull as he listened to the hold music. After he’d come back from Kuwait there had been medals, and ceremonies, and promotions, and now he was halfway through his extended leave. He’d been excited about having three straight weeks off when they’d first offered it to him, but his family had only been able to get time off for about a week, leaving him to entertain himself for the rest of the time. Some of his Air Force buddies were here too, and the hotel they’d been put up in was really nice, and he wasn’t… not having fun, exactly. But he’d been feeling antsy and unsettled and maybe a little lonely -- especially when all his friends had brought their girlfriends along to stay.
The hold music clicked off then and a moment later there was a soft, feminine voice on the line. “Stark Industries, Tony Stark’s office. How may I direct your call?”
Rhodey rolled his eyes a little -- not at her, just at the idea of his dumbass former roommate having a personal assistant. “I’m calling for Tony, please.” (Obviously, he resisted the urge to add. Why else would he be calling Tony Stark’s office.)
“I’m sorry, I’m afraid Mr. Stane has asked that all Mr. Stark’s calls be held today. May I take a message?”
“Oh, uh…” Rhodey fought back a sigh. “It’s Captain Rhodes, calling for Tony please.”
“Oh, of course!” she said, her tone changing. “I’ll put you right through. And if I may, congratulations on your promotion, Captain.”
“Thanks,” Rhodey told her genuinely, grinning despite himself as he imagined Tony going around telling everybody in the office, down to his damn secretary. The hold music came back on but it was just a few seconds before it clicked off again.
“Hey handsome,” Tony’s voice drawled down the line. “How’s your leave going? Partying it up? Knock anyone up yet??”
“Jesus,” Rhodey muttered, laughing a little as he flopped back on his bed and scrubbed a hand over his hair. “You never stop, do you?”
“Don’t lie, you love it.”
Maybe it was Rhodey’s imagination, or maybe he was projecting, but he thought Tony sounded tired.
“Yeah, I do,” he agreed, unable to keep back a little sigh at the admission.
“Hey, you alright?” Tony’s tone was teasing. “You’re sounding awfully maudlin for somehow who just got about a metric shit ton of commendations from the Air Force.”
Rhodey huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, I’m good,” he promised, scratching at his chin; he’d skipped shaving the last few days. And then, because he’d had just enough beer with dinner to keep him honest, “It feels weird celebrating without you here, man.”
“Hey, you know I’d be there if I could, right?” Tony sounded agonized, and Rhodey felt his stomach sour with guilt. Tony’s parents had barely died a year ago, and he had a ton on his plate. Rhodey should have been checking in on him more, not making him feel guilty for not dropping everything to fly across the country and keep Rhodey company. “I’m really sorry.” Tony gave a little laugh but it sounded forced and even more exhausted than before. “I’d much, much rather be there, believe me. This is… Well it’s just that there are these deadlines looming, and Obie’s been really pushing me to come up with the next great thing, and since my parents--,” He choked on the word, cleared his throat, tried again. “Since dad died the board’s been on my ass, and everyone’s got ideas about what I should be doing and saying and how I should be behaving. I just couldn’t get away.”
“Hey, no, come on.” Rhodey shook his head, even though Tony couldn’t see him. The other man still sounded pained, like he was letting Rhodey down and it killed him, and Rhodey was gonna shut that idea down fast. “It’s totally fine, Tones, I promise. I miss you, but I can still survive without you, you twerp.”
Tony snorted. “You sure about that?”
“I’ll get by. And hey, when things settle down I’m sure I can get a couple days off. We’ll live it up like it’s 1985.”
“So… Cheap beer and terrible videos?”
“You know it baby.”
“Yeah, alright.” Tony hummed. “I miss that,” he admitted quietly. “No stakes. And I miss you too, Honeybear.”
“Obviously,” Rhodey told him. “I’m a goddamn gift, Stark.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Tony told him. And then his voice shifted, obviously talking to someone. “Yeah, I know. No, I didn’t forget Obie, I just had something come up. I’ll be right there, I promise… Just let me finish this call.”
There was a long moment of silence, long enough that Rhodey wondered if Obie hadn’t let it go, if Tony had had to hang up on him.
“Sorry,” Tony finally said, just as Rhodey was wondering if he should hang up too. He sounded completely deflated, all traces of good mood evaporated. “Board meeting. Guess I better go.”
“Man, I thought CEO meant you’d have more freedom,” Rhodey teased, trying to make Tony a little brighter. But there was no trace of humour in Tony’s voice when he replied.
“Yeah. Me too.” There was a shuffling of papers. “Shit, okay, I really better go. Obie’s gonna be pissed if he has to come back to get me again. Have, like, an entire bottle of champagne for me, yeah?”
Rhodey smiled despite himself. “Sure, Tones,” he agreed. “Don’t work too hard.”
The line was dead before he finished the words.
***
Despite everything, Rhodey woke up feeling better the next morning; talking to Tony always seemed to have that effect, even if he was a chaotic disaster child. He was still lonely -- especially after watching Mikey literally feeding his girlfriend waffles at brunch the next morning -- but it felt more tolerable after that.
And then, just as a group of them were making plans to do something for the afternoon, he heard a low whistle from behind him. “Hey sailors,” an extremely familiar voice drawled. “Enjoying your leave?”
Rhodey whipped around so fast it was a miracle he didn’t injure himself, watching as Tony sauntered into the room, wearing his sunglasses inside like a complete asshole. “I know you know it's the Air Force, you absolute jackass,” he told him, grinning wide.
Tony just shrugged, his smile just as bright, and Rhodey got up to give him a huge hug -- no delicate ‘bro’ hugs for them. He could feel Tony sink into it the way he always did when he got a proper hug and Rhodey squeezed him a little tighter, letting go just before it got weird.
“What are you doing here, man? I thought you were in LA.”
Tony rolled his eyes. “Dude, I’ve got like a fleet of private jets. What’s the point of being CEO if I don’t get to fly them at my whim.”
Rhodey just gave him a pointed look and Tony shrugged again.
“I don’t know, you sounded bummed on the phone, and I don’t trust the US of Army to be showing you boys a proper good time, so I snuck out.”
“Again, it’s Air Force, and you know that.” Rhodey was still grinning. “It’s good to see you, Tones.” He cleared his throat then, realizing he’d been staring at Tony, and steered him towards his friends. “Come on, come meet everyone.”
Tony, of course, immediately charmed everyone, making the rounds and introducing himself and laughing like they were all old friends before pulling up a chair at the table and stealing the rest of Rhodey’s waffles like he couldn’t afford his own. It felt nice, right, the way things were supposed to be. He was maybe a little worried about the sudden decision to just take off, but it wasn’t like Tony’s relationship to spontaneity was a new one. It was probably his version of sticking it to the man, or just his best friend being his normal over-the-top self when it came to showing his affection for their friendship.
Or maybe, Rhodey reconsidered when he saw the activities Tony had booked for them, he was working out his 'I'm-as-good-as-Captain-America-right-Dad?' issues.
“Jesus man,” he said, laughing as he read over a copy of itinerary that Tony’d had his secretary print out and fucking laminate for everyone. “You’ve got helicopter tours of the city on here. What are you, the one-man USO girl troupe?”
Tony just looked over from where he’d been writing down the contact info for some exclusive wedding venue for Matt’s fiancée. “That’s for later, baby,” he purred with a ridiculous, lascivious wink that had Rhodey busting out laughing. The whole thing was insane and over-the-top and ninety million percent Tony, and everyone seemed onboard so Rhodey figured, why not?
And the day was a blast. Overdone it might have been, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t a great time. Tony had won everyone over in about five seconds flat, and the more ridiculous his antics the more they seemed to like him -- not that Rhodey was surprised, since that described their entire relationship. And he loved having Tony there with him, hadn’t even realized just how much he’d missed having him by his side.
Tony had, apparently, planned some big dinner and party for them all at the hotel, so after a packed day everyone had gone back to their rooms to rest and get ready. Rhodey had had just enough time to dump his wallet and keys and strip off his shirt before there was a knock on his door. He wasn’t even surprised when he opened it and found Tony on the other side, leaning coquettishly against the frame. Rhodey snorted but didn’t acknowledge his positioning further, just left the door open and turned back into the room. He could practically hear Tony pouting at his lack of response, but he followed him in anyway, flinging himself across Rhodey’s bed.
“Hey handsome,” he purred, dragging his eyes up and down Rhodey’s bare chest.
“You’re hopeless,” Rhodey told him, throwing his t-shirt at Tony’s face.
“Wow,” Tony mumbled, words muffled from underneath the fabric. “Rude.”
Rhodey laughed, grabbing a dress shirt from the closest. “Hey,” he said, sitting on the side of the bed and smacking Tony’s leg. “How’re you doing, man? Like really. Not that I’m not happy to see you, but what are you even doing here? You okay?”
“Huh?” Tony pulled the shirt off his face, giving Rhodey a borderline-manic smile. “Fine, great, excellent.” He sat up fluttering his eyelashes at Rhodey. “Why do you ask?”
Rhodey rolled his eyes at him. “Don’t do that, Tones. Come on.”
Tony shrugged, suddenly fascinated by an invisible stray thread on his pants. “I don’t know,” he mumbled, like he was five. He looked back up at Rhodey, his eyes suddenly tired. “I’m running the company. It’s busy.”
“Busy,” Rhodey replied dryly.
Tony rolled his eyes at him. “There’s… It’s a lot. And Obie’s, I don’t know… Different, I guess, when I’m the CEO, and… I don’t know. It’s weird not having you around, and you know me, I don’t think things through so I just figured, why not? And now I’m here.”
“Mmm,” Rhodey considered this a moment and then turned to Tony with a bright grin. “Are you saying I’m your happy place, Stark?”
“You know it, Honeybear,” Tony retorted, and he was obviously going for dry and sarcastic, but there was something a little too sincere in his voice, a shy little smile unwillingly teasing across his lips.
“Hey, it’s okay, baby,” Rhodey told him. “I’ll be your happy place. I make you feel all warm and safe and squishy inside, that’s totally fine with me, man. I’m very comfortable in my masculinity.”
“You’re very stupid, is what you are,” Tony retorted, but that little smile had turned into a full-fledged grin, and the stress lines around his eyes were fading a little.
Rhodey flicked Tony’s nipple, just for the strangled wheezing noise he made and the way he clapped his hand to his chest, staring at Rhodes like he had some kind of virtue to protect. “Takes one to know one,” Rhodey informed him childishly before sobering a little. “Seriously, Tones, don’t overdo it though, alright?”
Tony blinked back at him innocently. “Overdo it? Me?”
“Yeah, yeah, I know, that’s your middle name or whatever. I mean it, though. You need a break, take it. Not that I don’t appreciate it, but this is a lot. We’ll survive without a round of helicopter paintball or whatever you have planned next.” He rolled his eyes at the look on Tony's face. “No, that’s not a suggestion.”
Tony pouted a little before he relented. “Rhodey, honey, I promise, this is a break for me. I’m having a blast.”
“Yeah, alright.” Rhodey smacked his leg. “Come on then, Captain Overdo It. Somebody said something about a party downstairs. You wanna borrow my shower? Maybe a fresh shirt? You stink, dude.”
“I don’t stink,” Tony scoffed. “I’ll have you know my cologne is imported, and very expensive.” He made a show of sniffling his own armpit and then wrinkled his nose. “Yeah, okay, maybe I’ll grab a quick shower,” he said before suddenly sitting upright so fast he nearly gave Rhodey whiplash. “Oh, no wait, I just remembered! I, uh… Left something in my room. I’ll shower there. Meet you downstairs?”
He was gone before Rhodey could actually give him an answer, leaving him shaking his head as the door fell shut behind him. “Whatever, weirdo.”
***
Rhodey occupied himself with his Air Force buddies, drinking and shooting the shit while he waited for whatever crazy surprise Tony had cooked up now. He was upstairs long enough that Rhodey was just considering going up to make sure he hadn’t gotten trapped in the shower curtain or something when Mikey’s jaw dropped, eyes going wide. “Oh my god,” he muttered as the room erupted into jeers and catcalls.
Rhodey spun around and nearly fell off his stool as Tony sauntered into the room in a vintage Captain America USO girl costume, complete with halter top, red and white flared miniskirt, and a pair of ridiculous starry blue heels. “Oh my god,” Rhodey echoed, completely able to look away.
Tony stopped a few feet away and cocked his hip, the heels and the angle making his ass even more gorgeous than usual. “Hey sailor,” he purred with a ridiculous, over-the-top wink, and Rhodey couldn’t even find it in himself to remind Tony once again that they were Air Force, not Navy. Tony just smirked at him. “Told you I was going to show you boys a good time.” He stilled then, waiting for some kind of a reaction, and there was the slightest bit of hesitation creeping into his smile.
“Jesus Christ,” Rhodey finally managed, shaking his head and laughing, and Tony relaxed again. “You are an absolute idiot.”
Tony shrugged. “That’s not what the shareholders say,” he answered, and without skipping a beat he closed the distance between them and plopped himself in Rhodey’s lap, sitting sideways and stealing Rhodey’s beer.
“Yeah, sure, help yourself,” Rhodey grumbled, signalling the laughing waitress for another. He let his hand settle on Tony’s leg since there wasn’t much room anywhere else, especially now that Tony had gotten past his skinny twink phase. The fabric was a little stiff beneath his fingers, and he peered more closely at Tony’s costume. “Wait, is this an actual USO costume?”
Tony shrugged, unphased as he stole Jake’s fries. “Dad had some weird shit in his Captain America collection. ‘S mine now.” He shot Rhodey a bright smile over his shoulder as he popped another fry in his mouth, winking at him in the process.
“Jesus,” Rhodey muttered. He shifted his legs a little, the left one starting to go to sleep. “You’re fucking heavy, man. Is there something wrong with the chairs?”
Tony just squirmed his ass a little harder on Rhodey’s thighs. “Well, you know. You’re the only one here without a girlfriend, so I figured I’d step in.”
“Just helpin’ out, huh?” Rhodey asked dryly.
“Exactly.” Tony agreed. “Just helping out.”
Rhodey shrugged and resigned himself to spending the evening like this, shifting into a slightly more comfortable position and then pinching Tony’s side hard for good measure. He yelped, loudly, and Rhodey cracked up, nearly dumping Tony on the floor in the process. He looked up a second later in time to catch the end of a look shared between Mikey and Jake and frowned a little. “What?”
“Nothing!” Mikey said quickly, Jake holding up his hands innocently. “Just, you know… This explains so much.”
“Explains what?” Rhodey asked suspiciously.
“Well, I mean… You’re very…” He trailed off, looking for the right word, and Jake snickered.
“Uptight?” he offered.
“And this explains that,” Mikey said.
Rhodey blinked back at them, not following, and Jake gestured toward Tony, distracted with talking to somebody else.
“You left all your stupid at home.”
Immediately Tony whipped around to face them. “You calling me stupid?” he asked, face lighting up. “Awesome.”
“You are stupid,” Rhodey told him.
“Awww. Love you too, Honeybear.”
The thing was, Rhodey was so used to Tony being Tony that he didn’t even give his behaviour a second thought. The constant flirting, the sexual innuendos, the way he strutted around in those ridiculous heels like he wore them every day, arching his back in ways that seemed strategically designed to draw Rhodey’s eyes to his ass… It was all the same Tony he’d known every day since he met him. And sure, as the night went on and the booze flowed his eyes drifted to Tony’s ass even without Tony’s doing everything he could to draw attention to it, but that was nothing new either. It was just… How they were.
Tony was back in his lap again, his weight oddly comforting. Rhodey hadn’t even noticed his hand snaking around Tony’s waist until it was suddenly vibrating beneath him.
“What the hell?” Rhodey yelped, voice way too high. He snatched his hand back like something had bit him and Tony nearly laughed himself sick.
“Sorry, sorry,” he said, pulling out a monster of a cell phone. He wiggled the ringing device. “Top of the line,” he told him before he glanced down at the caller id and his face fell a little. Rhodey felt his heart clench sympathetically as Tony blew out a deep sigh. “It’s Obie,” he said. “I, uh… I should take this.” He gave Rhodey a smile, but even in his half drunk state, Rhodey could tell it was a little forced. “Back in a flash.”
With Tony gone, Rhodey leaned back and let the voices and music and laughter and general sounds of the party wash over him as he sipped at his beer. He was vaguely aware of Jake wandering off too, and Mikey sliding over to the seat beside him, and he grinned when Mikey clapped him on the shoulder.
“Having a good time?”
“Uh, yeah,” Mikey agreed, gazing around at the light show and DJ that Tony had brought in from somewhere. “This is insane.”
Rhodey shrugged, vaguely aware that he was grinning. “That’s Tony.”
“Yeah…” Mikey glanced around and shifted a little closer. “Hey, Captain?”
“Mmm?”
“I’m not asking, and you’re not telling, but please god, kiss your boyfriend he explodes.” He grinned then, and while Rhodey was left blinking back at him, he gave him a wink and wandered off after Jake.
“No,” Rhodey said weakly, even though Mikey was far enough away that he never would have heard him even without the noise of the party. “He’s… I’m… We’re not…”
But the thing was, why weren’t they? If he was really, truly honest with himself, in the way that only came with a bit of a buzz, there’d always been something there, an extra side to their friendship that they’d never quite touched on. The flirting, the grand gestures… They’d been dancing around each other for years, really, and apparently hadn’t even been that subtle about it.
Abruptly, Rhodey shoved his chair back from the table he was sitting at, looking around the room for Tony. He had no idea what he was going to do or say to him, but now that it had been pointed out, he couldn’t stand another second of letting this hang over them without doing something about it.
There was no sign of Tony in the bar, probably still on the phone, but Rhodey noticed a promising looking side door, half propped open. Slipping through found him in a concrete back hallway of the hotel where, more importantly, he could hear Tony’s voice bouncing off the walls. He followed the sound, and found him around a corner further down the hall. He was still on the phone with Obie, leaning against the wall with his eyes closed and a pinched, tired look on his face that Rhodey didn’t like at all. He didn’t appear to have heard Rhodey, though through some trick of acoustics Rhodey could hear Obie’s voice filtering through the tinny speakers of the phone, demanding to know when Tony was going to be back from his distraction of a vacation.
Rhodey wasn’t wasted by any means, but he was just drunk enough for it to seem like a good idea to step forward and take the phone out of Tony’s hand. Tony’s eyes snapped open, and Rhodey had the brief thought that they really were gorgeous, even when looking confused, before he held the phone up to his own ear.
“Hey Obadiah?” he said down the line, not even stumbling over the name as he cut off whatever the other man was saying. “Fuck off.”
Tony’s eyes went even wider as Rhodey punched the off button. “Rhodey… What?” His tongue flicked out against his lower lip, a nervous tic that he’d had for years, but Rhodey’s eyes focused on his lips with the motion.
Rather than speaking, he let his arm drop to his side and stepped forward, closing the distance between them. His other hand came up, curling around the back of Tony’s neck, and Tony inhaled sharply, lips parting. Rhodey couldn’t resist then, leaning in to kiss him.
It was soft and sweet at first; he’d meant it to just be soft and sweet. But then Tony made a soft noise, his hands curling in Rhodey’s shirt, and without quite meaning to Rhodey deepened the kiss. The phone dropped to the floor with a loud clatter as he pushed Tony up against the wall, having just enough presence of mind to cradle his head so it didn’t smash into the concrete. His other hand dropped to Tony’s thigh and he moaned softly into his mouth at the brush of bare skin beneath the fabric of the short skirt, pressing his own thick thigh up between Tony’s legs.
And then the press of Tony’s hands against his chest changed and he was shoving instead, enough force behind it that Rhodey staggered backwards. His balance was off and when he regained his footing Tony was staring at him, a slightly shaking hand clapped over his mouth. Rhodey couldn’t quite find the words to ask what was going on and Tony regained his composure, drawing in a deep breath before he lowered his hand again.
“What the fuck are you doing, Rhodes?” he asked, and his voice was low and cold but there was hurt in his expression, not anger.
“I mean…” Rhodey shrugged helplessly because he’d thought it was kind of obvious, but that didn’t seem to make Tony feel better, hiding his face as he stooped to pick up his phone.
“I’m not your drunk, pity, gay experiment, Rhodey,” he said quietly, before turning and striding off down the long corridor.
Rhodey sighed, and thumped his head against the wall.
His first instinct was to take off after Tony, to try and explain what he’d been thinking. But while he wasn’t drunk drunk, he clearly wasn’t sober enough to not be a total moron, and the truth was that he hadn’t been thinking, he’d just… Wanted. So instead of going after Tony, or going back to the party, he wandered through the confusing back halls until he found an exit, slipping outside into the night air.
It was cold out, but it was refreshing after the sweltering heat of the party and Rhodey’s head felt clearer almost as soon as he was outside. Still, he wandered around for a while, trying to get his thoughts together before he ambushed Tony again. Suddenly kissing him after years of supposedly being straight probably hadn’t been the best way to handle this.
He was shivering in his shirtsleeves by the time he made it back into the lobby. The party still seemed to be going strong, but he ignored it in favour of the elevators, heading up to Tony’s room on the top floor -- penthouse, of course. He drew a deep breath before knocking, and there was a long moment of silence on the other side of the door, long enough that he was worried Tony was going to ignore him entirely, before his voice finally filtered through the thick wooden door.
“It’s open.”
Rhodey let himself in, locking the door behind him, and followed the faint sounds of splashing water to the bathroom. He found Tony stretched out in the bathtub, up to his neck in a thick layer of bubbles. He was focused intently on the faucet, although his eyes flicked briefly over to Rhodey at his appearance. Not wanting to corner him, Rhodey leaned against the bathroom door frame, hands in his pockets.
“Rich guy like you leaving your hotel room unlocked while you’re in the tub? Doesn’t seem like the safest idea.”
Tony just shrugged, still not meeting his eyes, and flicked at some bubbles. “Think I’m safe. They’re supposed to have pretty good security here. Although I guess they’re letting just anyone up here now,” he added, the words void of their usual snark. Rhodey sighed.
“Hey, so, I’m an idiot.”
Tony snorted.
“First of all, are you okay? Second of all, I think I’m missing something here. Third of all, why are you hanging out in this whirlpool. You have something approaching Olympic-sized at home, I know you do.”
Tony finally looked over at him then. His hair was soft and curling from the steam and he shoved a stray strand impatiently out of his eye. “Well, you’re definitely missing something. But I guess I like this tub because it’s here.”
“Right. That makes sense.”
“... Where you are.”
“Oh.” Rhodey felt his stomach swoop. “Oh.”
“Yeah.” Tony let his eyes cut away again. “Guess we’re both idiots, huh?”
Rhodey huffed out a laugh. Tony’s cheeks were flushed, and he was pretty sure it wasn’t just because of the heat of the water. “So all of this was…?”
“For you? Yep,” Tony confirmed dryly. “You know how I am with self control.”
“So why’d you run away when I kissed you, then?”
Tony looked over at him with an arched eyebrow. “Because you were drunk.”
“Not that drunk.”
“And I didn’t want you to regret it when you sobered up,” Tony continued, ignoring Rhodey’s interruption. “And… And… Maybe I was panicking a little. Like sure, I guess I did all this to show you I liked you but then I started thinking what if you only like me because I did all this? I wanna bang you like a screen door in a hurricane, but I never expected you to know about it, you know?”
Rhodey couldn’t help it, he started to laugh, and Tony groaned, burying his face in his wet hands, soap suds dripping down his arms.
“You wanna bang me like a screen door in a hurricane, huh?”
Tony groaned louder. “Shut up,” he grumbled, words muffled by his hands.
Rhodey ignored him, moving across the room to sit on the side of the tub and pull Tony’s hands away from his face. “That all you wanna do?” he asked softly.
Tony blinked up at him with those ridiculously wide, beautiful eyes before he shook his head. “No,” he admitted hoarsely. “I want to take you out to nice dinners, and galas, and watch movies like we used to but with cuddling and making out and… I want to be the one you come home to when you’re on leave, I want to be your home and… And…” He faltered, trailing off, and shrugged. “I want it all.”
Rhodey grinned down at him. “Definitely both idiots,” he agreed. “Because I want all of that, too. I just didn’t realize how much until now.”
Tony’s breath caught and he shifted a little closer. “Yeah?” he asked, licking his lower lip. “You promise you’re not drunk?”
Rhodey planted a hand over his chest. “I swear it.”
“Good,” Tony breathed and then his wet hands were fisting in Rhodey’s dress shirt, yanking him in for a rough kiss. Rhodey yelped against his mouth as he nearly lost his balance, felt Tony’s lips curl into a smile against his before they found their rhythm, the kiss even better than the one in the hallway downstairs.
“Shit,” Rhodey breathed when they pulled back again, lips brushing against Tony’s with the motion. Tony laughed softly in return.
“Shit,” he agreed. “Is this even real?” he added, sounding absolutely delighted by the fact. Rhodey immediately reached up to pinch him hard in the arm, and Tony cried out, swatting at him in return. “What the fuck, Rhodes?”
“You asked!” Rhodey said, grinning, and got a faceful of water splashed in his face for his trouble. He had to splash Tony back in turn and the two of them ended up splashing and smacking at each other until Rhodey did lose his balance, slipping into the tub with his legs still hooked over the side. Tony nearly drowned himself, he was laughing so hard, slipping under the water and sloshing it all up over the side and onto the bathroom floor. “Stop laughing,” Rhodey grumbled, although he was laughing too. He smacked Tony’s leg under the water as he bumped up against him.
“Sorry,” Tony said, not sounding it at all. His eyes were sparkling as he pulled himself upright a little, leaning into Rhodey’s shoulder. “Guess we should get you out of those wet clothes, honey,” he added, barely getting the words out before he was snorting with laughter again, draping himself across Rhodey.
“You’re hopeless,” Rhodey told him, snaking his arm around Tony’s waist. “Don’t know what I see in you.”
“Too late,” Tony told him. “You already said you like me. Can’t take it back now.” He stilled then, suddenly very interested in the button on Rhodey’s cuff. “Uhh, you do, right? Like me, I mean? I mean, I know you’re my best friend but… This isn’t just a sex thing for you, right?”
“Tony…” Rhodey just shook his head. “You're hopeless,” he repeated, waiting for Tony to look up at him again. “It’s not just a sex thing,” he promised. “I like you, Tony. I really like you. Even more than as my best friend. I might actually be a little bit in love with you, I just haven’t had enough time to process it yet, but…” He trailed off, pretending to consider. “Yep, I’m definitely at least a little bit in love with you.”
Tony’s eyes were shining, and he cleared his throat. “I’m maybe a little in love with you too, Honeybear.”
Rhodey gazed at him a few minutes longer, his own throat feeling a little thick before he patted Tony’s leg again. “Well, if we’re all on the same page then I think that demands a celebration party.”
Tony’s nose wrinkled. “You want to go back downstairs?”
“I was thinking more along the lines of room service? Pizza, champagne, movies on TV… I think I was promised cuddles and making out?”
Tony gave him a slow, sweet smile, leaning forward to kiss him again. “Yeah,” he said, grinning against Rhodey’s lips. “That sounds perfect.”
It was a little longer before they managed to extricate themselves from the cooling water of the tub, and get dried off and dressed -- since naked cuddling seemed a little weird, when they hadn’t done anything more than kiss. Rhodey borrowed some sweats while Tony ordered the room service, which meant they ended up with the most expensive champagne the hotel had on offer.
By the time Tony was pouring a second glass for them, Rhodey was feeling loose and bubbly, partly from the champagne but mostly just from how right everything felt. They hadn’t done anything, were just sitting side by side, watching Lethal Weapon like any number of nights at MIT, but it still felt like he’d found something he hadn't even known he was missing. So when Tony passed him the refilled glass, he set it on the nightstand instead, turning back to Tony and curling a hand around his neck, drawing him in for a slow kiss.
“Oh.” Tony hummed happily against his lips, squirming closer as he kissed him back, and when they pulled apart again that flush was back on his cheeks, along with a pleased smile. “Hey.”
Rhodey snorted, kissed him again. “Hey.”
Stretched out and reclining against the pillows as they were, it wasn’t long before they shifted lower, until they were lying on their sides, facing each other. Their kissing picked up, less exploring and more intent, and Rhodey was hyper aware of everything about Tony, the way he was panting into his mouth, the soft, needy little whines that occasionally slipped past his lips, the way his ankle was rubbing between Rhodey’s own, a poor replica of what he really wanted. Tony’s ratty old t-shirt had rucked up and Rhodey’s free hand had settled on his hip, stroking over the warm skin until Tony was shivering against him.
Tony pulled back suddenly, his hair even more fluffed up and falling into his eyes. Rhodey couldn’t resist brushing it out of his face and Tony’s nose wrinkled, like he thought he could hide how pleased he was by the action.
“You’re such a sap,” he whispered, leaning in to suck at Rhodey’s lower lip. It was Rhodey’s turn to shiver, doubly so when Tony slid a hand up under his t-shirt and dragged short nails down his chest. Tony smirked and moved closer until they were pressed together head to toe. Rhodey could feel him hot and hard against his hip, and Tony moaned when the sensation had him twitching against Tony’s tip in turn. “Are we, um…” His voice was hoarse and he gave Rhodey a crooked grin. “Are we doing this?”
“Are we doing this?” Rhodey repeated, laughing when Tony groaned and ducked his head against his neck. “Is that the famous Stark charm you’re always bragging about? Christ, how do you ever get laid?”
“I hate you,” Tony grumbled, but Rhodey could feel him shaking with laughter against him. He took advantage of Tony being distracted to roll them, easily flipping Tony onto his back so he could straddle his waist and lean over him. Tony stopped laughing, staring up at him with wide, soft eyes, and swallowed hard.
Rhodey grinned, grinding down against Tony a little and grinning at the near-gasp that slipped past his lips at the sensation. “So what do you want to do?”
Tony groaned and his hands slipped down, clutching and squeezing at Rhodey’s sides. “Christ, Rhodes,” he grumbled. “You’re gonna fucking melt my brain here. I want… I want…” Suddenly his mouth dropped open, expression changing into one of disbelief. “Oh, fuck me.”
“I mean, that was what I was getting at,” Rhodey teased, laughing when Tony swatted at his shoulder blade. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry, come on. What’s wrong? You’re in a hotel room with a gorgeous man between your thighs. What more could you want?”
“Lube,” Tony muttered, sounding distraught, and Rhodey blinked.
“What?”
“I don’t have any lube,” Tony whined, his cheeks flushed again. Rhodey had never seen him blush this much in his life, and he was kind of enjoying it. This may have been an unfortunate turn, but he couldn’t help laughing anyway.
“Are you sure you’re really Tony Stark? Aren’t you some kind of self-proclaimed sex god?”
Tony huffed and squirmed. “It’s not… I didn’t… I had some, but then I… I came here to see you, asshole. I wasn’t planning to hook up.”
“I’m sorry, didn’t I just see you in a vintage USO costume with the express intent of hooking up with me?”
“I didn’t expect that to work!” Tony wailed, burying his face in his hands. “Please hand me a pillow. I need to smother myself.”
“Hey, no, come on.” Since Tony was still hiding his face, Rhodey ducked down to kiss over his neck, tonguing at a tendon that had Tony moaning. “I’m sure we can figure out something to do instead.”
“Yeah?” Tony asked, voice coming out breathy. His hand moved to scratch over the back of Rhodey’s head, and his hips rocked up against him. “You want me to put the skirt back on?”
Rhodey laughed into his skin. “Maybe later,” he hummed, lifting his head again to give Tony a wink. “Besides, it was the heels that really did it for me. Your ass is incredible, man.”
“Finally,” Tony huffed. “You know how many squats I’ve been doing, waiting for you to notice?”
Rhodey rolled his eyes. “Of course you have,” he muttered, kissing him again. Tony melted against him -- so easy -- and Rhodey took advantage to wrangle his arm between their bodies, cupping Tony’s cock through his pants. He was hot and thick even under the fabric and Tony moaned at the touch, legs falling a little further open.
“Christ,” he gasped. “Little warning.”
“Aww. Where’s the fun in that?” Rhodey asked, squeezing and then stroking up his length with his thumb.
“Fuck,” Tony choked out. “You’re a goddamn menace.” He squirmed and wriggled underneath Rhodey, hauling on his t-shirt. “Come on, I wanna see you.”
Rhodey grinned and sat back on Tony’s thighs, pulling his t-shirt off over his head. Tony made a soft, pleased, humming sound at the sight, eyes fixated somewhere around Rhodey pecs before dragging over to his biceps, and Rhodey preened at his obvious appreciation. He waited a moment before arching an eyebrow at Tony. “You gonna reciprocate there, hot shot?” he asked, flicking Tony’s nipple again. Tony made the same, hilarious sound, but this time it was followed by his eyelashes fluttering and a low moan, his hips arching up.
“Every time,” he muttered, sounding breathless. His eyes were heavy lidded and he grinned up at Rhodey from under thick eyelashes. “Every time you do that it goes right to my cock, jackass.”
Rhodey felt his cock twitch at the thought, at the idea of Tony, trying to hide how affected he was. He pulled Tony up off the mattress to kiss him again, wrestling with his shirt in the process. It took a few tries but he got it off, letting Tony fall back against the mattress again before following him down. Tony whined when their bare chests pressed together, wriggling around until he could get a leg on either side of Rhodey’s, grinding up against his hip.
“Shit, Rhodey,” he gasped. “You’re killing me. I’m gonna lose it here.”
“Yeah?” Rhodey ground down against him, doing his best to ignore the way his own cock was throbbing in his pants in favour of teasing Tony. “You that close already?”
Tony shrugged, utterly shameless. “You’re hitting all my buttons here, Honeybear. And, you know… I’ve been thinking about this for awhile. Fantasies come true. You…” His eyes fluttered again when Rhodey rubbed over his nipple. “You know how it is.”
“Mmm,” Rhodey hummed, groaning softly when Tony’s fingers scraped over a sensitive spot on his hip. “Yeah, I do.”
He kissed Tony again and wriggled his hand further down between them, shifting and pressing at the waistband of Tony’s sweats until they were sliding down over his hips, his cock popping free. Rhodey rocked back on his elbows far enough to get a look at him. He’d never really thought about men like this before, but Tony was gorgeous.
“What?” he asked, teasing him instead of saying it outloud. “No thong?”
Tony was panting, but he still managed to give Rhodey a smirk. “Maybe next time. Let’s see how good you are first.”
Rhodey narrowed his eyes and then he was curling his hand around Tony’s cock, turning whatever he’d been going to say next into a low whine. Tony rocked his hips up into Rhodey’s grip, and his hands moved to grip tightly at his biceps, hard enough that Rhodey was pretty sure he’d have little fingerprint bruises left behind. The thought turned him on more than he expected and he squeezed around Tony’s cock again, rocking down against him. There was precome beading at the tip and Rhodey dragged his thumb through it, using it to slick Tony up more and filing away the noise he made at the touch for future reference.
“Christ,” he groaned, out of breath himself now as he buried his face in Tony’s shoulder, teasing his skin with his teeth. Tony groaned. “You’re so fucking hot.”
“Could… Say the same to you,” Tony gasped, fingers squeezing harder at his arms. “Fucking come on, Rhodes.”
Rhodey pried his spare hand away from where he’d been clutching Tony’s side, reaching down to shove lopsidedly at the waist of his own pants. Tony picked up on what Rhodey was doing, sliding his hands down over his ass until they’d gotten his sweats pushed down too. He pulled his hand away briefly, ignoring Tony’s petulant whine at the loss, and spit in his hand, curling his hand around both their cocks, pressing them tight together. Tony gave a full body shudder at the feeling, one hand gripping hard at Rhodey’s ass, the other scrabbling over the back of his neck. Rhodey could feel him twitch against him, the feeling almost setting him off, and he closed his fist a little tighter, jerking them off hard and fast. He’d thought it might be a little weird, being with a guy -- he’d never touched a dick that wasn’t his own before. But it wasn’t weird at all, it was just… Tony. They’d always done their best to help each other feel good. This was just taking that to another level.
And it felt really good.
Tony’s body was hot against his, wound tight as he arched into Rhodey’s grip. They’d given up kissing, panting against each other’s mouth as everything spiralled higher, and Tony was making occasional little high-pitched whines that made Rhodey want to lay him out, pin him down and take his time exploring his entire body, finding every little spot that made him make that sound again.
Later, though. For all his teasing of Tony, he wasn’t going to last that much longer himself. He could feel his balls drawing up tight, Tony’s thighs tensing on either side of his hips. He moved his free hand back to Tony’s chest, more of a rough drag than the sensual slide he’d been going for, but Tony didn’t seem to mind when he pinched his nipple again, making him cry out.
“Come on, baby,” Rhodey panted against his lips. “Wanna see you come.”
Tony moaned loudly and then his back was arching, mouth falling open as he spilled over their cocks. One of his hands moved to close over Rhodey’s, squeezing tight around the two of them, and Rhodey nearly choked as he came too, the force of it taking him by surprise.
It was a long moment before he felt like he could breathe again, before he became aware of Tony panting and cursing softly beneath him. Pushing himself up on shaking arms, Rhodey pulled back far enough to collapse on his back beside Tony, sprawled out and panting. He wasn’t even surprised when Tony immediately squirmed around to cuddle up against him, head pillowed under his shoulder. Grinning, Rhodey let his arm curl around Tony, running his fingers absently over his skin.
“Shit,” Tony muttered, turning his head to place an absent kiss on Rhodey’s pec. “That was fucking…”
He trailed off, apparently out of words for the first time, and Rhodey snorted. “Technically, I haven’t fucked you yet.”
Tony made a pained noise. “Do you think there’s a 24-hour pharmacy around here somewhere?” he asked, moving like he was going to sit up, though he settled right back in when Rhodey’s hand closed over his arm.
“Jesus, Tones. Give me a chance to catch my breath, huh?”
“What, are you old?” Tony teased, though he seemed happy enough to just stay there, snuggling. They’d never turned the TV off, and whatever movie was on now was a comforting buzz in the background.
“Yup,” Rhodey agreed. “So ancient. Anyway, I think I’ve got a better idea.”
Tony shifted a little more, turning enough that he could see Rhodey’s face. “Yeah? What’s that?”
Rhodey cleared his throat, feeling absurdly nervous despite everything they’d just done. “You’re going back to California tomorrow, right?”
Tony sighed, long and tired. “Yeah,” he admitted.
“Well, I’ve got another week’s vacation left…”
He trailed off, leaving it hanging, but Tony knew exactly where he was going, pushing himself up on his elbow to grin down at him. “Yeah? Really? You wanna come with me?”
“I mean, if you’ll have me…”
“If I’ll have you, he says,” Tony was still beaming, even as he rolled his eyes, then put on his best affected ‘East Coast Wealthy’ accent. “Yes, Captain Rhodes, I would love to have you join me at the California home for the next week.” Then he waggled his eyebrows at him. “You’re on vacation? You can be my kept man.”
“I’m regretting this already.”
Tony ignored that, flopping back down onto the pillow. “I’ll get you a silk robe, you can spend your days lounging around, making yourself pretty, sunbathing in the nude… Have dinner waiting for me when I get home from the office.”
He was giggling now, and Rhodey smacked him without looking, catching him somewhere around his stomach. “I ain’t cooking for you, man.”
“That’s fine!” Tony assured him, rolling up onto his side to flutter his eyelashes. “We can order in. I am very rich. Just as long as you’re in your best heels and pearls.” He gave Rhodey a ridiculous, over-the-top wink. “Other clothing is optional.”
He looked ridiculous, and so absolutely pleased with himself, and Rhodey couldn’t believe it had taken him this long to realize he was in love with the man.
But he hadn’t gone this long without knowing that if he encouraged Tony he’d never stopped, so instead of telling him how in love with him he was, Rhodey shoved him onto his back again and kissed him until he stopped giggling.
(In retrospect, that probably didn’t have quite the dissuading effect he was going for, but Rhodey couldn’t find it in him to mind all that much.)
@tonystarkbingo @ironhusbandsbingo
#tonystarkbingomarkiv#tsbmiv#ironhusbands#tony stark#james rhodes#ironhusbandsbingo#friends to lovers#getting together#fluff and smut#light angst#pining#fic#my fic
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71/74 spicynoodles plis
Prompt meme || @herecomesmonkiekid
71. A Gentle “I Love You” Whispered After A Soft Kiss, Followed Immediately By A Stronger Kiss //74. Kisses Where One Person Is Sitting In The Other’s Lap
A bit of Bodice Ripper DNA in this one because what am i NOT supposed to experiment with style after being asked to write for the same ship a bunch of times? just wait till i lemony snicket a prompt fill
--
Red Son had always thought the phrase 'a car crash in slow motion' was overly trite and fancy to describe someone being so incapable of controlling themselves they could only use the phrase to describe their poor decisions as a way to excuse themselves from fault. That there was no way to stop it from happening, despite ample time to put a stop to whatever 'it' in question was. He'd always thought that there were a million ways to pull out of a million things and a person is only guaranteed a certain outcome when they push for it time and again.
Well as it seemed, emotions had made a hypocrite out of him because he could not have taken any of the opportunities to pull away from this—away from Xiaotian—if he'd tried. It was like everything had snowballed and by the time he'd realized what it was building to he was already in too deep to pull away.
Why on Earth it had felt so natural at the time those few months ago, when the two of them were brawling over some scheme he honestly couldn't remember, for the fighting and shouting to turn into... something else, he couldn't say. Just that it was. It felt like the proper next step in the heat of the moment, the quickest way to get that clueless quipping fool to stop talking and ruining his monologue with his inane commentary.
And it certainly had shut Xiaotian up, but from there it spiralled. That one lapse in judgement creating a torrential downpour of one foolish action after another, sensations that were so few and far between over Red Son's life they may as well have been entirely new, and loathe as he'd been to admit to it when they were forming, emotions that were unable to be reasoned away.
And all of that lead to where he was now, surprisingly comfortable sitting in a mound of stiff cheap pillows, Xiaotian perched atop of him and kissing down the length of his neck to give Red Son a few bruises to match the ones that he'd put on him earlier. For such a defnitionally passionate action it was.. comfortable... Almost routine. They had to be careful of course, couldn't be too loud or someone would hear, couldn't leave a mark anywhere that wasn't easy to cover, Couldn't stay the night no matter how much either of them would want to stay with the other.
It was all they had right now. Red Son didn't have the strength to break from his parents yet, no matter how much less he was willing to be part of their schemes, and Xiaotian could never and would never be persuaded to quit being the Monkie Kid. These stolen moments were all they were gonna have until he could-...
Until he could what? Betray his flesh and blood because he'd fallen in love with their enemy like a character from one of the bodice rippers he used to steal from his mother's secret drawer?
“There, now we match.” Xiaotian spoke softly, breath against Red Son's sensitive neck sending shivers up his spine. He was practically glowing in the dim light smiling down at Red Son with that soft look and pressing a feather light kiss against his lips, it was so stupidly simple, so blasé, so perfectly Xiaotian...
Oh.. it seemed he had fallen in love, hadn't he?
Xiaotian stiffened above him, before descending on him again, this time determiend to kiss the daylights right out of him. Red Son hummed against Xiaotian's mouth and kept a reasonable pace, but couldn't for the life of him understand what had turned the gentle tone of Xiaotian's kisses to charged and weighty?
“Say it again.” Xiaotian breathed against his mouth when he pulled away—though 'pulling away' was a strong term, his lips were still only centimeters away from Red Son's, he'd pulled far enough away to talk but other than that was as close as ever—and Red Son realized all at once that he must have spoken a rather important part of his internal monologue out loud.
Another foolish action he'd been unable to stop. Xiaotian pulled away a little further and cupped Red Son's cheek in his hand. “Red?” He wasn't trying to make eye contact with Red Son, thankfully, allowing Red Son to focus on the furrow in Xiaotian's brow instead of agonizing over how fucking uncomfortable meeting people's eyes was.
“I love you.” His heart was beating so hard he felt as though he might pass out, But he did say it again as asked.
Xiaotian's entire face lit up, if he was glowing before he was positively radiant now. Then they were kissing again.
“I love you too.” Xiaotian's voice was no higher than a whisper but it hit him like a truck. A car crash in slow motion indeed. It was too late now, maybe it was too late during that first time in the caves when it was just the two of them. Maybe even earlier than that. But here they were. It was too late, they were in love.
And sometimes there's just no walking away from a car crash.
--
Send me stuff!
#I have written MK's proper name a million times now in a proper fic im writing#I have now evolved so now i can write him with his full name without misspelling it a million times#christ it's Meriadoc Brandybuck all over again with this kid#YOU KNOW HWO MANY TOLKIEN FANFICS I WROTE BEFORE I COULD SPELL MERRY'S NAME RIGHT?#A LOT#vega writes stories too#Letters to vega#Spicynoodleshipping#herecomesmonkiekid#The Arrangement AU
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Lie Detector-Colby Brock
summary : requested by an anon "Colby’s your best friend and he reveals that he likes you while taking a lie detector test for Awesomeness tv’s Detected like when him and sam were on it. Just a lot of angst? I love your writing btw!!!! 💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕" (bear with me this is my first angsty fic) i hope you like it !!
Masterlist
warnings: angst,
You had known Sam and Colby for so long. Like them, you were a band kid. A bit of a nerd, and high school definitely wasn't your favourite time. Being friends with the boys helped you get through those four years. Meeting Sam and Colby definitely saved you. You don't know where you'd be without them by your side every step of the way. You had been by their sides to support them through everything from Youtube, to MetaLife, to personal struggles. You were each others rocks, and that was never going to change.
In LA, each of you made friends, finding longtime buddies and some fake friends. Your favourite new friend had to be Kat. Not only was she your absolute best friend besides Sam and Colby, but she also made Sam the happiest you had ever seen him and you loved her even more for that.
Colby never seemed to find a girl that stuck, even though he was basically perfect in every way, it seemed girls only wanted him for the way he looked or for his social media following.That was what pissed you off the most. He went between flings, fans threatening the girl every time he was spotted with one. That stopped him from trying to find someone even more. What you didn't know was that there were other factors stopping him, and it had nothing to do with the fans or LA girls.
Romance didn't come easy to you either, you met a couple guys here and there, but none of them ever peaked your interest enough. The closest thing to romance you ever got was slight flirting with Colby. You never thought anything of it, just friendly fun. Even though everyone else was convinced you'd end up married, you never really saw it.
Until this one video was posted on Youtube.
Sam and Colby weren't new to interviews. They were pretty much naturals at it. Both of them were charming and charismatic in every interview they did. They were always their most authentic selves, and you applauded them for that. This one was different.
You remembered the boys telling you about their day at AwesomenessTV, and they gushed over how much fun it was. Their enthusiasm made you very excited to see the videos that came out from that day, you patiently waited for the upload.
The day finally came when Awesomeness posted the lie detector video, and you couldn't wait to see how this one went. You shot Colby a text saying 'about to watch your lie detector video! let's see how honest you really are brock.' You didn't wait for his response, setting your phone down with the screen facing down so you could concentrate on the video. It was on silent. Little did you know, Colby was texting back begging you not to watch it.
Obliviously, you clicked play on your laptop and watched it. Colby went first, it started out pretty normal, just cheeky questions about hook ups and different questions about their lives that you expected to hear. For the most part Colby was truthful, just small unimportant lies here and there. That was, until Sam got to the last question. A devious look crossed his face and you knew that look anywhere. This question was a juicy one. You sat up, eager to hear Sam spit out the question.
"So Colby Brock, you are currently single," Sam started, as Colby rolled his eyes, scoffing at the lead up to the question. "And I think everyone would like to know....Do you like y/n?" Your heart dropped at the question, you couldn't decide which answer would be worse, yes or no. Colby's eyes went wide and he got redder than you had ever seen him get before. He bit his lip and shifted uncomfortably. He swallowed hard and answered with a very unsure,
"No I don't" His eyes darted straight to the laptop monitoring his test and the man running it told you what you already knew, just by Colby's reaction.
"He's lying." Sam yelled an 'OHHHHHH' in excitement, knowing this had definitely been a longtime coming. You slammed your laptop shut, not being able to even watch the rest of the video. Frankly, you didn't care what Sam had to lie about, you only cared about the blue haired boy on the screen indirectly confessing he liked you.
You picked up your phone seeing 5 missed calls from Colby and about two dozen text messages from him. He had begged you not to watch it, telling you he'd explain and that you needed to answer so the two of you could talk. You felt frozen, you didn't know how to process this information. What made it even worse was the fact that your socials were blowing up, shipping you and Colby more than ever.
All you could do was burst into tears, feeling so incredibly overwhelmed by the situation. You hadn't answered Colby, worrying him even more.
All of a sudden, there was banging at your front door. You ran to it, being met with the blonde half of your favourite duo.
"Hey hey hey are you okay?" He rushes in, pulling you into a hug. Without even asking if you watched it he asked, "Do you feel the same way?" you sniffled, you hadn't even thought of that.
"Sam, I can't risk ruining everything we have." You said to him, suddenly swallowed whole by the agonizing thought of losing Colby. He nodded, understanding your feelings.
"I know, you're gonna have to figure things out, Awesomeness kinda screwed everything for you. Colby is freaking the fuck out." He rubs your back pulling you to your couch.You wipe your eyes, fidgeting with your ring on your finger.
"What do I do? I can't hurt him, but I can't lose him either."
"Well y/n, you need to decide if you're willing to risk things with him, he's been in love with you since we were 18. You're always flirty and cuddly with him, do you not feel that way at all?"
You had to really stop and think, this wasn't a decision you could make on a whim. This was one of your best friends, you couldn't deny how amazing Colby was, he was any girl's dream guy. You just had to decide if he was yours.
"It's up to you y/n, but I think you guys would be amazing together. I always have." You picked up your phone, opening it to text Colby back. You took a deep breath and typed out your reply.
'I never want to lose you Colby. If you're my forever, I want to be sure. Give me some time, just remember that no matter what happens I do love you.'
-
It had been a week. You had taken time to yourself, thought things through and finally came to a decision. You just hoped everything could be okay. You called Colby over to talk face to face. Opening your door for him, the sight of him made your heart swell.
"Hey."
"Hey."
He gave you the best hug you've ever received, which confirmed you'd made the right choice.
#colby brock imagines#colby brock x reader#colby brock oneshot#colby brock fanfic#colby brock#Sam and Colby#traphouse#traphouse imagines#youtuber imagines#youtubers#trap house#cole robert brock
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First Line Meme
Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line, then tag 10 of your favorite authors!
tagged by @lizardkingeliot. Thanks!!! <3
This is going to be fun!
1. The Production of Penny. SPOILERS for A Comet Pulled From Orbit.
For the first several weeks, it’s just impossible to meet her. Penny will feel bad about it later, but he can’t take in any new stimuli when his entire body, mind, soul is shivering in the exposed light, trying to adjust to a reality he’d given up on returning to. He holes himself up with his family in one of his favorite places, a small house in Alaska, of all places, that he’d only just acquired and made comfortable when he’d—when he’d gotten himself trapped somewhere else.
2. The Way a Fool Would Do
You never really know what you’re getting into, when you choose to take a soulmate. Before Quentin had bound himself to Eliot, he’d been forced to endure the normal barrage of questions from the Fillorian Soul Council, and then a separate barrage of questions from his cousin Julia, who had nitpicked his choice down to the marrow, pouring concern after concern into Quentin’s already terrified brain.
He’d been so frustrated with her at the time, but in retrospect he can’t blame her for her caution. The fact is, no matter how much you prepare, no matter how much you think you’ve thought it all through, binding another soul to your own is unlike anything else in the world. It is impossible to know how it will feel until it’s already too late to turn back.
3. The Genesis of Julia
She decides, while watching the 1984 Summer Olympics one lazy day, a magically cool glass of lemonade on the table beside her as she lounges back into their comfiest armchair, to master gymnastics. The decision is made more or less on a whim; this is how Julia decides how to spend a great deal of her infinite life minutes, truthfully. She’s organized and meticulous once she knows her goal, but when it comes to finding said goal, it’s all about what strikes her fancy.
4. The Construction of Kady
The dust took a couple of weeks to settle, after Kady’s abrupt departure from her old life and chaotic intrusion into her new one. She’d been in the middle of war with her own people when she’d died for the first time, and the others had found her desperately attempting to steal magic from a rival hedge group in order to survive, too anxious about her own life to properly mourn for her mother’s death, and certainly too caught up in her own frantic mind to trust any of these new people, much less believe them about their immortality, or her own.
5. The Origins of Alice
There was no way to prepare for something like this. There was simply nothing she could do, nothing she could write down, no refinements she could make, that would help her to be more ready for what the morning would bring.
Alice hated that very much, of course.
6. The Creation of Quentin
The object in question was beautifully rendered, detailed and precise. A burnished color, the cool weight of it reassuringly solid in Q’s hands as he examined it, turning it over and over in his hands. This one wasn’t even particularly old; it looked to be a sixteenth century model, and Q had seen older and more beautiful in his time.
7. The Making of Margo
When Margo first met Alice, she understood her immediately. That wasn’t to say that Alice was boring, or predictable, or that there was nothing Margo had to learn about her. It wasn’t that at all. It was more that in meeting Alice, Margo was able to take one look at her and think to herself: ah, now this I know what to do with.
8. The Explanation of Eliot
El was afraid of heights, but only a little.
He could fly, after all, and that should have made fear illogical. But if anything, his ability to subvert gravity was the very reason for his nerves: he’d never been able to trust himself with anything, much less his own life or the life of others. The few times his telekinetic powers had been called in as a means of escape or rescue, when he’d held an innocent stranger or beloved family member in his arms and floated with them down from the side of a mountain or building or cliff face… well, those were the things he had nightmares about, on the rare occasions when he could remember his dreams. It was that sensation of freefall, of knowing it was magic, something inexplicable, deep in his consciousness, in his soul, even, that was the only thing preventing sharp, painful, deadly impact. He knew himself well enough to know he should never be trusted with something so precious as the life of another.
9. A Comet Pulled From Orbit
Alice Quinn woke up.
This was an unexpected development, considering the events of mere moments ago. Specifically the agonizing thirty seconds she’d spent bleeding out on the carpet, wondering in an abstract sort of way how long it would be before someone thought to look for her and found her mangled corpse tucked into the corner of a Brakebills Library study room, surrounded by the shredded remains of several large magical tomes, and her carefully collated notes.
---
Pausing here for a moment after the first 9 - eight of them are all part of one series. The main story, A Comet Pulled From Orbit, is an Alice POV AU of The Old Guard. Prominent Queliot subplot, some burgeoning Kalice and other ships as well. Lots of found family, etc. The other stories, all the ones with the seven main characters' names in them, are meant to be a series of small snippets to fill out that universe, backwards and forwards. I'm noticing that I do a lot of setup, I don't often start in medias res with any of these, trying to set a tone and get the information started right away. Each of the chapters of the snippet stories could be their own thing, so it's a little weird to consider it the start of a bigger story!!
Okay, moving on to earlier stories.
10. is it too late (or could this love protect me)
This is a story about nothing and everything. It is a story between then and now. It is a story of people living their lives, living them, and living them, and continuing to live them, with only some pedestrian heartbreak and alcoholism and good old millennial economic angst to add some variety to the humdrum of continued existence.
This is a story about stupidity, and love. Stupid love.
(A/N - hmm I kinda hate this beginning now even though I'm SUPER proud of the story as a whole)
11. Maybe This Time
"Quentin Coldwater?" Eliot says, twisting the name up in his mouth like an insult.
Give him a break - it's a weird fucking name, for one thing. And besides, the off-putting demeanor is an intentional scare tactic.
12. Beyond the Veil
"Do you think the Lorians would want a seat at the table?" Fen asked doubtfully, looking over the charter in front of her.
"Well, they're going to want to review the language, at any rate," one of the advisers put in. "Especially the order of the names."
"But it's in alphabetical order!" Margo said. "Fillory comes before Loria - sorry, not sorry."
13. Running All This Time
Quentin was sweet. There were a lot of words that Eliot could think of to describe him, several of them a lot more besotted than he was comfortable with, but sweet was an apt descriptor, generally speaking.
He had the softest little smile, and wide brown eyes that crinkled up in the corners when he was happy. He had strong yet gentle hands, hands that were somehow mesmerizing as he flapped them around wildly during conversation, trying to paint pictures in the air to accompany his latest rant about whatever-the-fuck. His voice was calming, his circular logic compelling, enough so that Eliot found himself listening - really listening - whenever Quentin was talking to him, even if it was about the Plover books and what they suggested about this time period in Fillorian history, or the politics of trade when it came to buying labor from talking animals, or how he may have come up with a better tracking system to mark down the mosaic patterns they'd already tried. Dry, uninteresting stuff, really. Which is what Eliot told Quentin, with an eye-roll, to stop him from getting a big head.
14. To Feel the Same
Quentin finds Eliot sitting alone in the armory, surrounded by books.
Something tense and frantic inside of him unclenches, like it always does around this man. It’s actually a remarkable thing, because by all rights Eliot should make him more nervous, not less. Quentin is a nervous person, after all, and Eliot is so… Eliot . A High King in his blood. Quentin had meant that, when he said it, and had drank in the gratitude in Eliot’s eyes like a glass of pure, crisp water, essential and quenching.
15. Identity Theft
The first thing the man noticed as he came to consciousness was that his head was pounding. It felt like the worst hangover he'd ever had, times about a million, and for several seconds all he could do was lay there and gasp and wait for his eyes to adjust. He appeared to be in a semi-dark room of some sort. It was large, with a cavernous ceiling above him, and the air was drafty. Like a garage maybe, bigger even - a warehouse?
The second thing he noticed was that he wasn't alone in the room. There were shapes all around him, rustling and making confused, pained sounds. After a few moments of this, there was a whoosh of energy and an orb of light floated above his head, illuminating the space in a soft glow. Someone in the room had cast a simple light spell. He looked around and sat up slowly, trying not to jostle his still pounding head. His next observation was that pretty much everyone in the room with him was kind of stupidly attractive.
16. Promises
Quentin gets about thirty seconds alone in his bedroom in the cottage, before Eliot is bursting through the door without knocking. It's not that he wasn't expecting him to take it hard, but seriously - can he not give Quentin just a couple of minutes of peace?
"This isn't happening," Eliot says without preamble, slamming the door shut behind him. "I'm sorry, Q, but it's not."
"I honestly don't think it's your decision to make," Quentin says, running a tired hand over his face.
17. The Curse of the Broken Vase (aka The One Where They Get Married and Nothing Goes Wrong)
Quentin was pacing.
He was pacing, and he was tugging his hands through his hair, which he really shouldn't be doing because it had actually taken a hairdresser an annoying amount of time to brush it out and tie it back, and apparently it was perfect now, even though Quentin couldn't really see how it was different from his normal lazy bun, but whatever.
There would be people, Eliot included, who would be annoyed with him for messing up his hair.
18. Liquid Courage
Eliot was fidgeting. Which was unusual, and generally not a good sign. But it still wasn't much of a warning, Quentin had thought to himself later, given what was about to happen. Then again, Eliot had been acting strangely all week, a little distant and distracted, and Quentin had known his partner was working up to discuss something with him.
Quentin had been worried, of course, but in an abstract sort of way. He figured whatever it was, the two of them were more than equal to the challenge. Given everything they'd been through over the entire course of their relationship, he really couldn't imagine any piece of news that would be capable of obliterating their lives.
19. Reciprocal
The thing about Quentin Coldwater was that it was pretty much impossible not to love him. Honestly, it wasn't even Eliot's fault - how was he expected to spend every second of every day around such a beautiful, adorable, kind person without letting it get to him? And the sex. Well. That was fucking incendiary, which really wasn't helping his resolve in the love department.
20. Fragments
It was a perfectly normal morning in Fillory. Which, honestly, should have been Quentin's first warning that things were about to go very, very wrong. Fillory was many things, but normal was not one of them: Q had gotten used to being woken up by harried castle employees, alerting him to one catastrophe or another. The Serpent War had ended months ago, but the paperwork was still pouring in like it had never stopped. His official role in the government wasn't supposed to have anything to do with the war efforts, but it had been an all-hands-on-deck situation for the last year or so.
---
Oh my goodness, this took me back to almost my first story in this fandom! I have 22 Magicians fics posted, so that's almost all of them...
I think my favorite of all of these is Maybe This Time, just because I like starting off with such an iconic moment from canon. It's the kind of fic that I hope resonates with people differently upon a re-read, and I like the strong, instantly recognizable hook. You read that first line and you know where you are, but you have no real idea where the story is about to take you.
I've also had a lot of fun writing Julia in the Comet 'verse and I like her opening line to the first snippet I did for her!
---
I'll tag @hmgfanfic, @ameliajessica, @hoko-onchi-writes, @freneticfloetry, @honeybabydichotomy, @allegria23, @spiders-hth-is-an-outlier, @rubickk7, @portraitofemmy, @propinquitous, and all others who want to!!
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So... I have this bad habit where sometimes, when attempting to summarize the idea for a fic, I go into waaay too much detail.
Like, I don't go as far as to actually wrote the damn thing because, you know, effort and laziness, but... Well, it's a close call. It gets to the point where it's less a summary and more what my friends use to call a Quick Fic. All that's .kissing is the actual dialogue and descriptive narration.
Having said that....
Here is a "summary" of an ZoLaw AU where Law works for Doflamingo...
What happened was, basically, Law got caught by Doflamingo after eating the devil's fruit which eventually allowed him to cure his dieses, thus why he's still alive. Or, at least, isn't dead from lead poisoning. Because let's face it, Doflamingo could have just killed the boy then and there. Sure, he'd have to find the fruit all over again, but better that the deal with this little traitor
Except really it was his brother who had been the traitor. Law is still just a child, and children can be so suspectable to any number of ideas so long as an adult gives them a pat on the head and a treat after.
Which is when Doflamingo realizes that he can just manipulate Law into being another loyal follower. Then eventually - when he's no longer useful - Doffy will have him sacrifice his life for his own immortality. By that point Law will be family, and family never lets Doffy down. Not anymore.
So it's under Doffy's personal tutorage that Law grows up, and as much as he might resit the man who imprisoned Corazon, it's hard not to eventually fall to all Doflamingo's sweet praise and promised. And Law gets what he had wanted all along: a way to get back at the world that willingly watched his home wiped off the official world map and would be happy to see the entire town dead to the very last one. This Law truly earns his title Surgeon of Death, acting as the top officer of Hearts in the Doflamingo crime family. And yet despite his cruelty, he isn't even on the government's wanted list; protected under the Shichibukai's jolly roger.
In the meantime, the Strawhats are still doing their thing right on through Punk Hazard (which they somehow manage to not only live through but actually do more damage and cause twice as much chaos. The biggest difference is that Ceaser and Monet escape and Sanji can't perv out over being in Nami's body). So this time when they roll into Dressrosa it's less "backing up the plan of an ally" and much more "on complete and total accident" and "without a damn clue".
Yeah, basically they're the Grand Line's easiest prey.
But, hey, it works out! Well, no, not really. But Sanji does meet Violet, Luffy meet Sabo and help recover Ace's devil's fruit, and Zoro does get lost and require a magic fairy guide. Plus, hey, since they're not really there for any purpose other than that they happened to be passing by, it's not like they can't pull a dine and dash. They may be unprepared, but The Monster Trio can still keep up the fight until everyone is back on the Sunny.
A perfect escape!
Except no.
Because Luffy isn't totally ready to leave, not when he wants to know more about what Sabo is doing and help his new friend Rebecca. Not that they have time to debate the merits of staying or pulling a tactical retreat since at that poing Big Momma is on their ass. And that scary dude in the long black coat is still somehow following them, teleporting himself through the fucking air like wtf why is this happening now!? Nami is forced to make an executive decision: they're can't stay. Also, oh God oh God they're trapped and they're going to be killed and oh God.
It's moments like these you're almost thankful one of your crew members is a total maniac. Because in the middle of all this mess, Zoro just smirks, tells Nami to just concentrate on getting away from that annoying ass ship, he's got their other attacker covered. Which only makes everyone freaks out MORE because what is Zoro thinking: he'll be killed! ("Not immediately, of course. First they'll likely torture him for information, perhaps even kill him as slowly as possible." / "What? Why would you say that? That is not SUPER helpful to hear right then!") The Sunny goes into an all out panic attack. Everyone is yelling or crying or both.
Except Luffy.
Luffy who looks at Zoro, at the singing ship, at the dark power user trying to slash their ship apart, at the shore line of this island and the way it radiates a fake happiness covering Rebecca's very real pain. Luffy who just lowers his hat over his eyes and gives the nod.
Zoro smiles, and is immediately almost clobbered by a giant Chopper. What is Luffy saying? Don't they realize that is the same guy who almost took down Sanji, Zoro AND Luffy only moments ago? Zoro can't fight him alone! Sanji, more calm than the rest, lights a cigarette while explaining that he's not trying to stop Zoro from getting himself killed or anything, but Chopper is right. That guy was incredibly tough, and there's no way Zoro can do it alone ("Shut up dartbrow! You don't know what the hell you're talking about! I could take him down with just the two swords! With one hand behind my back!" / "He already kicked your ass once, Marimo! Or have you forgotten because of all the head trauma!?" / "The only reason he kicked OUR asses is because YOU kept getting in my way you damn weak-ass cook!" / "WHAT DID YOU CALL ME, IDIOT MARIMO!?") Franky tries to regulate the fight but he's busy blocking those deadly aimed slashes from hitting his poor ship while Brook and Kin'emon work on stopping the incoming cannon balls. Either way they're going to have to do something SUPER fast if they want to get out of here. Yeah, Luffy, we need an actual plan. We can't just send Zoro out to-
"Zoro", Luffy says and despite everything going on around them the deck of the Sunny goes really quiet. They all know that tone. "Zoro, I need you to take care of this until we can get back. I still need to kick Mingo's ass for a friend."
At the sound of his captain's no nonsense voice, Zoro is suddenly easily able to stand, shrugging off the pile of people trying to stop him from jumping to his death (and by pile of people I do mean the coward trio and Sanji, who is mostly just trying to get in a few kicks). He draws Wado, clutching the katana in his teeth and yet still somehow manages what you know is a smirk. It's a promise.
And like that, Zoro is launching himself right into the blue sphere of the battle.
A battle against one of Doflamingo's top officers. A devil's fruit user with a twisted heart and home field advantage. Needless to say, it does not end well for our hero.
—🧡—
Although, Law has to give his rival swordsman some credit. He has his share of fun toying with the boy, and despite never standing any real chance of victory Law can admit the strawhat pirate puts up a better fight than most. Far better than Law had been expecting from some one so new to the New World (supposedly he got Mihawk to agree to train him, but Law has met the Hawk Eye and finds the idea utterly absurd). Then there is the way his smile had just an edge of what Law could only call manical delight, even when it became clear he'd long lost. This greenhaired kid really is stupid enough to believe his captain will come back for him. As though he would come charging back into Doflamingo's territory a second time just to retrieve a single crew member. One who was not only crazy enough to sacrifice himself but couldn't even win the fight. At the same time the swordman's loyalty and faith - as misplaced as it is - is kind of... Adorable. Who knew someone could come so far on the Grand Line and still be so innocent?
Law immediately wants to corrupt it.
Thes other family members will whine tell you, Doffy has always had... Let's say... A "soft spot" for Law. He's spoiled that brat for years, is what they mean but don't dare to say. Sure enough, Law barely has to work to talk Doffy around to letting him personally see to the prisoner's arrangements. Doflamingo is a little suspecious at first (he can never truly trust Law, not after the Corazon incident), but he quickly dismisses it. He's had the Heart Officer's loyalty for years now.
Of course, when he sees the spark of interest light in his apprentice as they eye their newest spoils of war, he can't help but tease Law. After all, Zoro is quite an enticing young man and Law isn't the only one there who likes pretty things. They're so fun to destroy which - judging from the way Law shivers when Doffy runs a hand through thick green hair before yanking the boys head back against the wall hard enough to leave the young captive panting and dizzy - is precisely his protege's plan.
(Doflamingo also happens to know Zoro almost definitely had trained under Mihawk, and he would love to see his fellow warlord's eyes flash with barely contained anger when he learns how Doflamingo has broken his favorite toy. It's not his fault - Mihawk is always so uptight and repressed, it makes agonizing him too much fun for Doflamingo to resist.)
In the end, though, he knows when Law's determination is set. And for whatever reason the boy has decided he absolutely has to be the one to keep their guest "comfortable" while his captain makes up his mind on what he'll do. So Doflamingo only teases for a bit - touches a little, plays with the barely conscious boy kneeling at his feet, enjoys the way Zoro still has enough spirit left to try taking bite when Doffy's fingers trail to close to his bloody lips (oh, and, what a joy! Law nearly growls at the prospect of not being the one to ruin the boy!) - but eventually he stops his little game. He gives in, telling Law to have fun with his treasure. He is the one who took him down after all. It is only fair he keeps him.
Just try not to completely break the poor thing, not until Strawhat returns for him.
Law snorts at the very idea. This is hardly the first time they'd done this. He's never seen a single captain try and retrieve their stolen property (he has of course, but he doesn't remember them). He doesn't see why Strawhat-ya would be particularly special.
Before Doflamingo can come up with a clever, vague answer about Law trusting him, Zoro suddenly gives a bark of laughter that would have scared lesser men senseless. It only serves to draw the two men's interest back to their little pet.
Luffy won't come back for him, Zoro confirms, much to Law's surprise (he personally never thought Strawhat-ya would, but then why would the swordsman sacrifice himself so willingly for a man he has so little faith in?) and has Doflamingo raising an eyebrow in.... Interest. Zoro looks at both of them with no fear, like he hadn't taken a humiliating defeat and is even now bloody and chained up, helplessly listening in on these two infamous pirates talk about him like he is a mere object. Actually, if anything, he appears to be wearing a smirk under all that blood. Because he knows something they don't.
Luffy won't come back for him, because his captain knows Zoro doesn't need to be rescued.
To Law, this makes Zoro look like an even sweeter treat. Doflamingo is simply amused, remarking that perhaps their little pup has yet to realize the leash around his neck is shaped like a noose.
Zoro meets his gaze, steady yet daring. He promised Luffy that he'd take care of it, and so that is what he will do. He'll never go back on his word, especially when it comes to his captain. Something Doflamingo with his distrusting and fear-toed crew couldn't understand. So see, their plan to use Zoro as bait will never work, because Zoro swore to Luffy that he'd be take care of it. So he will. Luffy has enough faith in Zoro that he'd never believe anything less and would never turn around out of doing to try and mount a rescue.
No, when Luffy comes back it will be for the sole purpose of kicking Doflamingo's ass.
The mood darkens. In a flash, Doflamingo is in back in front of him, yanking Zoro forward by the chin. He squeezes hard enough to bruise. You can hear the cracking of bone as he explains to Zoro exactly how precarious his current position is only to grow second by second more frustrate by Zoro's completely lack of fear. So he squeezes harder. He slams the boys head back into the wall and starts smiling when he gets a since from the stoic swordsman.
Before he can do any real damage Law steps in, reminding Doffy that he promised him he could have the boy. And just like that, Doflamingo's whole mood appears to shift back to calm. He puts on his fake smile and let's Zoro go, even pets the boy's hair. Of course, he had promised. And he, too, is a man of his word. Something Zoro will surely learn in time now that he is one of them.
Zoro, now with blurred vision and the taste of fresh blood on his tongue, is smart enough not to answer. But not smart enough to lower his head or try and appear humbled. Lucky for him, Doflamingo decides the boy isn't worth it. When he turns around he notes the hungry way Law is eyeing the kneeling prisoner behind him. Which brings a crueller, yet more genuine, smile to Doffy's featurss. The Strawhats vice captain may act invincible now, but he's never faced Doflamingo's own Surgeon Of Death. As disinterested and put off as Law might usually act, the boy can be dangerously twisted. He's sure his top officer will break the young pirate down bit by bit - both literally and figuratively - long before his captain can come running back in to try and find him (and Doflamingo is sure Strawhat will, no matter what Zoro might think).
He leaves with one last reminder to Law not to completely shatter the infamous Pirate Hunter. No, Doffy would hate to see their newest family member treated so poorly, especially seeing as he has much bigger plans in store for the young Mr. Roronoa. Specifically, he wants to see the face of Monkey D Luffy when he watches as the last bit of his first mate's spirit broken.
And because Doffy practically raised the boy and knows exactly the right buttons to push, he decides to give Law a little extra motivation to bring Zoro to that point. Just in case that interest turns into something dangerous like longing or - laughable as it is - actual fondness. It's so simple, too: as he walks by he simply whispers how there is nothing like crushing the heart of unrequited love.
It will be such a treat, tearing Zoro from his captain, and watching Luffy realize he's lost his chance to love the other man, wouldn't it Law? What a truly tragic romance. It almost makes you hope the two of them at least had some time together. Law didn't happen to give them a moment along before forcing Zoro to throw himself into the fight, hmm? Just a small, precious second or so for the two to share a final kiss. After all, not even Doffy is so cruel as to deny the poor boys such a tender moment.
Sure enough, Law's eyes immediately narrow and Doflamingo can feel the jealousy rolling off him. Not because Law gives a damn for their prisoner's feelings - Doflamingo raised him better than that - but he always has had a possessive streak. Having taken an interest in the swordsman, he will hate the thought that the boy might even think of another or that Law won't be the first to possess him in ever possible way.
Doffy leaves with a cruel, deep laugh. He can't wait until dinner, when he may just happen to remember the rumours about his "friend" Mihawk and his taking a young green-haired boy under this wing and in to his bed. By tomorrow he suspects every part of Zoro's body will bare at least some mark that he now firmly belongs to no one but Trafalgar Law.
#one piece#roronoa zoro#trafalgar d. water law#trafalgar law#zolaw#lawzo#zoro x law#donquixote doflamingo#dressrosa arc#evil law is also pretty sexy#evil Law#Zoro wump#Love me some fierce ass Zoro#also love me some beat up and bloodied Zoro#its okay some how thos all ends in fluff and cuddles#the zolaw au nobody asked for#one piece fanfiction#fanfiction#only not really#fanfic ideas#fanfic plots#fanfic summaries#that go way too indepth#like just waaaaayyyy too far#my writings
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A RWBY V7 Ep12 rant.....When I say this is long..... Legit was fucking 37 pages double spaced at one point. Sorry....
Before this gets started I want to warn you, this is long (even longer than I thought it’d be going in). It’s probably too long ... actually it is definitely too long but if I agonize over editing it down again and again I won’t get it up before the finale. It’s probably repetitive at times, and most certainly not anything I’ll be showing off as an example of my top essay writing. And I want to be able to say that the length pays off because I have some grand hopeful insight at the end. I want to say I know things will be okay. But the fact that I can’t is exactly why I’m writing this, and why it’s so long. So if you need this to have a hopeful ending, I’m sorry, I don’t have one for you currently. I want to, so badly. But to me false hope would be even worse. So if you can’t handle another long post that doesn’t end with a way to fix things, it’s okay, take care of yourself. But maybe the most hopeful thing I can tell you, and tell you up front, is that you aren’t alone in your pain.
I want to preface this all with one more thing: I don’t hate CRWBY. I respect them, support them. I’ve wanted to give them the benefit of the doubt as much as I could. That doesn’t mean I can’t criticize them or expect more from them or just be plain angry with them. I can be vocal about all of that without harassing them, without hating them. I don’t think they’re just plain evil or homophobic. I still want to believe that they can do things that will allow me to trust them again. Maybe it’s naive, but I want to, at the very least, still have hope that this wasn’t malicious, just very poorly conceived and executed.
And I know that other people who are hurting like me are lashing out towards CRWBY. And while I don’t at all condone that kind of reaction, I can understand it to an extent. Because I’m very, very hurt and angry and it would be so easy to let loose and say all the awful stuff I want to in my anger. To yell and call people out and not care how I come across. It would definitely be a lot easier than spending all week writing this long thing and agonizing over making it perfect. There is nothing wrong with venting and being raw and open and angry, but just as we want CRWBY to be aware that their actions can truly hurt people, we need to be conscious of the fact that so can ours. Many people are very hurt right now. And whether or not you think it was queerbaiting/BYG or not, or even whether or not you just think it was bad writing, no one has the right to invalidate the people who are hurting right now, many of whom are queer people dealing with personal traumas and mental illness.
The few people who are attacking CRWBY and other fans (and there is a difference between being angry and vocal about that anger and just attacking them) do not invalidate the hurt people are feeling. If you are hurt or angry you have every right to be. You have every right to stop watching the show or leave the fandom, or communicate your hurt to CRWBY. But communicate means just that; communicate. Talk. You can be as angry as you are, you don’t have to temper your pain to be more tolerable to the people who caused that pain. But there is a difference between being harsh and honest about how hurt you are, and harassing real people. And I won’t say “harassing real people over a fictional character/show” because I know it’s more complicated than that. My hurt this past week isn’t over a fictional character or a ship. It’s about me and what I’ve been through and the fact that the very thing that gave me strength in hard times was turned into something that confirmed my biggest fears and hurt me immensely.
The world always gets so sentimental when we see things about fictional stories giving people some comfort, and we celebrate that. But as soon as people say they can be hurt just as much by media, we lash out, say they’re overreacting, that they’re just getting upset over fictional characters. But you can’t have it both ways. We can’t want fiction to be important and inspiring to people and then belittle people who are negatively impacted by the same material, especially when often that vulnerability comes from a history of trauma and/or being neurodivergent. I am extremely hurt. I feel betrayed and abandoned and angry. And it will take time for me to process all of that and move past it. But I can be all of those things without attacking CRWBY or the people who might disagree with me.
To me, this isn’t about disagreeing. We can argue forever about whether or not this was queerbaiting or bury your gays or poor writing (and I honestly at this moment don’t even know what I think about all of that because I’m not in that headspace currently) but the fact is that there are many, many people who feel it was, and who are hurting because of that, and whether you believe it was or not does not give you the right to invalidate the real pain that they are feeling. Who is right is less important than the fact that people, people who were already vulnerable, have been hurt. So, please. Respect each other. Respect those who are hurting. Respect those who aren’t and don’t understand, and respect CRWBY. You can still be angry and speak out without attacking others.
With that said, to fully understand why this has affected me so much, and why it’s going to take a long time for me to get back to where I was, regardless of how the volume ends, there are things you need to know about my history. It’s a lot of background and this is already going to be a longer post than I’d really like, but it’s important to understanding why RWBY is so important to me, and thus able to have such a negative effect on me. So please, bear with me. Also, fair warning, though at this point it’s probably obvious, but my story isn’t happy. I still haven’t found my own positive ending to it. If it’s too much for you to read right now, please, like I said before, take care of yourself.
I guess I should introduce myself. My name is Farley. I’m 24, nonbinary (they/them), biromantic, demisexual. I have MDD, GAD, ADHD, Panic Disorder, OCD, Comorbid PTSD, and am trying to get an official autism diagnosis. I’m a full on alphabet soup. I struggle with imposter syndrome, intrusive thoughts, self-isolation, dermatillomania, and multiple trauma related phobias. My queer and neurodivergent identities are huge parts of my life and I try to be as open as possible about them, in the hopes of helping end the stigma around them. One of the main ways I cope with my mental health issues on a day to day basis is through hyperfixations. While it might not technically be the healthiest method, it’s what I’ve found to work for me when I’m in a really bad place and unable to practice more active coping skills. Through stories and characters that I relate to, I can separate my problems from myself a little and both escape from them for a while when needed, and view them a little more clearly from a new perspective.
That’s some important info about me, but what really matters here is the past five years of my life and the trauma within them.
In October of 2015, a few months into my sophomore year of college, I went into a deep depression, mostly brought on by multiple family deaths and stresses over the past summer that I had not properly had time to process and recover from. I quit my job as an RA and withdrew from school and moved back home with my parents. While this was the right decision at the time, it wasn’t easy. I left a very close group of friends at school, and didn’t really have a strong support system at home aside from my parents. My friends from high school had all gone off to college themselves, and the few that still lived in town were often busy with work or school. And because I have an intense fear of driving and needed time to get myself in a better place before starting a job, I ended up spending most of my time home alone. I became more and more isolated, to the point of verging on agoraphobic, and my parents and I started thinking about ways I could basically get my life started again.
But isolation messes with your head, and makes you want to just isolate more and more. In mid February of 2016 I started to really work on being social again. Mostly because I started talking to my best friend from high school, Emma, regularly again. She knew I was struggling, and while I’ve always had a hard time keeping in touch with people, Emma has always been the person I never felt self conscious about going to. We talked everyday. After high school, Emma’s mom and younger brother had moved to Ohio (I live in NC) and Emma had gone to school in Oregon. Her father lives in Germany. So between visiting her family in Ohio and Germany she didn’t have a lot of time during breaks to come back to NC to visit friends. Since we graduated I’d only seen her once for about 12 hours during that awful summer. But now we were skyping and chatting everyday. And slowly I started to be less and less scared of being more social. I wanted to hang out with friends. I was excited about going back to school in the fall.
Something important to understand about me and Emma is how close we’ve always been. We’d been best friends since 8th grade. We told each other we were soulmates, soulfriends, when we were 15. Nearly everyone in our small high school thought we were dating at one time or another. I always knew I loved her. I was fine with our relationship being “only” platonic. Because platonic wasn’t “only”. It was absolutely perfect. It was having her as one of the most important people in my life, and me in hers, and that’s all I wanted. But I also knew that if she ever wanted to try a romantic relationship, I’d be open.
Around the time I left school Emma had been going through a lot herself. She was finally getting help for her own mental health issues and she was, for the first time, really thinking about her identity and sexuality. On May 4th 2016 she texted me like always, but this time she was nervous. She wanted to tell me something. She said she was still confused about her sexuality and didn’t know where she fell. But when she tried to think of being with someone, the only person she pictured was me. And I told her basically what I just told you. So we started talking about testing out us being a couple. She had already been planning to come to NC to visit after she went to Ohio later that month for her brother’s high school graduation. And my parents were going on a two week vacation around that time as well. So we decided that she would come and stay with me for two weeks. We would keep this to ourselves until then, so that we could see if this was really the best thing for us. And if so, then we’d tell people. We’d always talked about living together after school, but now we wanted to see exactly what we wanted our relationship to be. She bought a bus ticket for May 26th and would stay through June 10th or so, which would mean she’d be there for her 20th birthday on June 5th. We talked everyday about our plans for her visit. How excited we were, how we could cook dinner together and dance around the house in our underwear, and just get to be Us again. We talked to friends, planning to visit friends from high school and maybe even my friends from college.
On May 18th I texted Emma around 11 pm. I hadn’t heard from her all day which was unusual but she was in Ohio celebrating her mom’s birthday and getting ready for her brother’s graduation that weekend, so she was probably just busy. We’d told each other goodnight every night for months at that point. So I told her I loved her and was so excited to see her in just over a week.
The next morning it was a bit odd that she still hadn’t texted me back but again, I just assumed she was busy with family. And then the mail came, and the last part of a birthday present I was making for her arrived. So I got to work, giddy.
Around 2 pm my other best friend from high school, Juli, called me. For some reason I decided I’d just call her back later, I was too engrossed in making Emma’s present. About 20 minutes later I heard a knock on my door and turned to see my parents standing in the doorway to my room. I vividly remember spinning around happily and saying “Hey! Everything okay?” even as I noticed the tears on my dad’s face and how pale my mom was. My stomach knotted and I stood as my mom said “N-no. Honey…..” and walked towards me. I took a deep breath, preparing myself for her to say that a grandparent or aunt or uncle had died. But as she got closer and put a shaking hand on my shoulder, I got a little more confused, a different kind of scared. One of my cousins? One of my baby cousins?
Nothing could have prepared me for her telling me that there’d been an accident in Ohio. That Emma, and her mom, and her brother, and her aunt had been in a crash…. And that all four of them had been killed on impact. The only thing I remember about the rest of the night is the pain of continuously screaming, punching the wall until my dad stopped me, and calling my friends from college, trying to have someone to talk to, someone who I could call who wouldn’t also be mourning. I couldn’t handle my own grief, let alone anyone else’s at that moment.
There’s a lot more to that story. There’s the memorial service in Ohio and meeting her dad and stepmom for the first time. There’s the service we put together at our high school and seeing our friend group all together again, except not. There’s the panic attacks every time I saw a garbage truck, or my parents drove off to work.
But most importantly for what you need to know right now, is my sliding back into isolation. I barely ever saw my friends from home and every time I did for the next two years it had something to do with mourning Emma. I saw my college friends a few times; them coming to visit or me taking a bus to stay the weekend. But eventually they went back to school and I stayed at home. I drifted away from high school friends because I didn’t know how to handle being with them when everything we did together reminded me of what I’d lost. I didn’t know how to talk to them because I needed their support but knew I didn’t have it in me to be supportive of them, and that wasn’t fair. I drifted away from my college friends for the same reasons, and even more so as the group dynamic that I had left slowly changed and faded until I didn’t know who was talking to who anymore and I again felt bad for dumping my shit on them when I couldn’t do the same. I began to think that all I brought to any social interaction was my pain and hopelessness. I would just bring everyone else down. They shouldn’t have to deal with my pain. So a year after I left school I was even more alone. I’d lost or pushed away all the people in my life that I’d expected to be lifelong friends, family. And I didn’t know how to begin to fix that. I didn’t know if I wanted to. I didn’t know if I deserved to.
The only reason I was even still alive was because anytime I even got close to thinking about hurting myself, I could just sense Emma glaring at me, yelling at me, telling me that I couldn’t let this stop me from living out all those dreams we’d talked about. And I knew that my life wasn’t just mine anymore, that all those dreams, that bond, the parts of my favorite person that only I knew, would be lost if I died.
But I didn't have my friends to vent to, and as supportive as my parents were (I’d told them and a few close friends about me and Emma that first terrible week) I needed friends. But I didn’t know how to reconnect and I was too scared to go out and meet new people, especially knowing that at some point I’d have to drop the “dead girlfriend” bomb on them, and who’d want to stick around after that? So I tried to use media and hyperfixations to pull myself out of spirals, like I always had. But it was hard. Because most of the things that had been comforting before were all things I’d shared with Emma, and so now they were just more reminders of her absence. And even new things I found soon turned rotten because I couldn’t help but think about how I wish I could show it to Emma. Everything that made me happy for even a moment would pretty soon make me sad.
Eventually I found things that comforted me and helped me be creative again and that led me to starting school again, nearly three years after I’d left, at SCAD. I loved the classes. I wanted to be there. I’ve always been a fiction writer but now there was so much in my head that I needed to get out, to process, and to share with people, especially people like me dealing with an unimaginable grief. Those past few years had been made even more difficult by the lack of representation I found in grief material. Everything was either about grieving the elderly, not someone who’d barely even gotten to live. Or if it was about someone young it was due to suicide or disease or violence; in other words things that at the very least, left the grieving with some cause to care about, or something to be angry at, some real world outlet. I didn’t have that. I didn’t relate to that. And even harder was finding anything I could relate to that included the complexities that my queer identity put on my grief; there were people I could and couldn’t tell about our relationship. Did I say I lost my best friend or my girlfriend? What if her family didn’t approve and wouldn’t talk to me, wouldn’t let me have any of her things, wouldn’t want me around? And one of the biggest things I kept thinking those first few months; why had my life become a ‘bury your gays’ soap opera plot line. Was Emma supposed to just be my tragic backstory now? Was I just supposed to use this as angsty fodder for the rest of my life? What about her? What about her dreams, her potential? What about her progress? She’d just gotten to a place where she was accepting herself. Where she was overcoming her mental health issues, where she was proud of who she was. Why was I allowed to keep going and she wasn’t? I couldn’t find any support for these feelings. Not books or groups or forums. So I decided to make them myself. I started writing and drawing, putting together what I called my Grief Scrapbook. I was working towards the thing that mattered to me more than anything; telling our story. I was getting the chance to create the content I’d so desperately needed.
But I was still alone, even at school. I was 23 living with mostly 18/19 year olds. And while there wasn’t anything wrong with them, I was struggling with a strong sense of dissociation. Everywhere I looked I saw Emma, forever 19. And there I was, continuing to age and getting further and further away from her.
My first year at SCAD I made two friends, and while I love them, they didn’t fulfill the hole left by the large close knit groups of friends I’d lost. I tried to get back in touch with my best friend from college, only to find that she was no longer talking to me. And I don’t blame her really. Yes I’d been going through things, but so had she, and I hadn’t been able to be a good friend for her. So if she needed to move on for her own good, no matter how sad that made me, she had every right to do what was best for her, just as I had been trying to do.
I’m now in my second year at SCAD and recently started hanging out with a new group. And they’re great and I’m slowly feeling more confident and secure around them, but I still struggle. I still miss the relationships I held so dear, the relationships I let dissolve. I still worry I’ll never have that kind of connection with people again, and that if I do somehow manage to find it, I’ll mess it up again. Some days are particularly rough, when I sit with my thoughts too long, or see something that reminds me of any one of the many people I miss, and I ache for the happiness I had. And it’s those moments when I turn to hyperfixations (I do promise this is getting to RWBY).
This past February the final How To Train Your Dragon movie came out. The HTTYD franchise holds a very dear place in my heart, as it was my main hyperfixation during high school, and something I shared with Emma and other friends. The second film came out the day of my graduation. It was the last movie Emma and I saw together before she moved to Ohio and then went to school in Oregon. It was the last movie we saw together at all. I knew it was going to be very emotional for me to see the final movie, alone now. But I had to see it opening night. And (spoilers for The Hidden World I guess) the movie ended up being about the reality of having to let go of the important people from your childhood as you grow up. About dealing with the fact that sometimes the people you expected to always be a part of your life, aren’t. I loved the movie, but it destroyed me. A few months later I had to get through May, the 3rd anniversary, away from home for the first time. And it was extremely difficult. I’d had to take a break from HTTYD and process things.
So my main hyperfixations weren’t helping me get through a really difficult time. But around the time HTTYD 3 came out I happened to get back into RWBY. I’d watched the first season or so when it first came out, but then had just kind of forgotten about it. And so, in the absence of HTTYD, I got caught up. And I can’t say there weren’t things that hurt, that made me have to take a moment and collect myself. Watching the end of volume three, watching Pyrrha and Jaune finally kiss, and then watch their relationship die with her before they even had a chance to be together, hit way too close to home. Logically I should have projected on Jaune more than I did but I think I couldn’t, because it wasn’t just similar, it felt like I was literally watching the worst moment of my life play out. He was too much like me to handle. But there was Qrow. And at first I just kind of latched onto him because I liked him. I like his characterization, his design, and I was a fan of V*c ( I hate to even mention him here for fear of causing a totally different discourse, but Emma and I were big fans of his and high school and met him and when everything happened with him it was just another thing that felt like a good memory of Emma had been tainted.)
And so I was watching while the last half of volume six was airing. And I was watching Qrow slip further and further into his depression. I watched as he felt betrayed by Oz after grieving him and then getting him back. I thought more about how he’d basically lost his sister, about how he’d grieved for Summer (regardless of whether it was platonic or romantic), how he lost hope in having strong relationships ever again. How he felt cursed and how he pushed people away to protect them and himself from more pain. I saw how the Apathy affected him and how close he was to giving in before Ruby and Weiss snapped him out of it. I saw him struggle to get himself back together for Ruby and the rest of the kids, but not know how. I saw every single fear I’d struggled with those past few years in him. I related to Qrow more than I’d ever expected to. And so my hyperfixation on RWBY grew. His addiction was my isolation. His insecurities of hurting others and thus pushing them away was my fear that for the rest of my life, I would be alone because I was always going to be too broken to be worthy of friends and love.
And then everything happened with V*c and for a bit everything hurt again and I had to get away from RWBY and the toxicity within parts of the fandom. And when I was able to come back I was excited but worried. I hoped that Qrow would continue to develop, continue to progress alongside me, that I would like his new actor enough to finish healing the sting I’d felt over V*c. I just wanted Qrow back, I wanted this character to be there to help me again.
Because Qrow Branwen gave me hope. He gave me hope that I could get better. He gave me hope that even with my insecurities and trauma, something I’ll never be fully free from, I can deserve people who care about me, and that there are actually people who will care about me. He gave me hope that good things can still happen to broken people. And not just people who were once broken and have healed, but people who are still figuring out how to heal, who know they will never fully heal, but also know they still are worthy of support and care. And then volume 7 started and I got more than I’d ever dreamed.
There was the hug with Ironwood. And even though I shipped Ironqrow, the idea of there being a romantic aspect to that hug wasn’t what made it important. It was the fact that we got Qrow connecting with an old ally (and an adult), finding that he even still had an old ally. That despite everything that had happened with Oz and Lionheart, despite all the trust he’d had broken, maybe he wasn’t actually alone yet. And then we got Clover. I’ll admit I was wary of him at first. I was worried about the traitor theories, the death theories, and then the theories that he’d negatively affect Qrow, making him feel worse about his semblance. But then he grew on me so quickly. Because he smiled at Qrow. He got him to talk about himself, called him out when he was putting himself down, told him how well he was doing. And while it’s wasn’t because of Clover, he was sober, and Clover had to at the very least help him stay that way. Qrow was hunching less when he walked, opening up, being more vulnerable and social. He was smiling, laughing, making jokes. He had a steady partner that he trusted and worked well with, likely for the first time since team STRQ. And yes, I shipped them, but honestly while I would have still been disappointed if it was never canon, given how blatant it really seemed like it could be, it would ultimately have been okay. Because again, it was less about Qrow finding love and more about him finding support. And then I saw Qrow and Clover and Robyn team up, and whether it was canon or just fandom I felt represented. Not just in the way I had with Qrow about my mental health, but as a queer person struggling with complicated grief; the exact thing I had never been able to find and had taken upon myself to create for others. I saw Qrow being loved (again, whether platonic or romantic isn’t as important) and healing. Even if Fairgame never actually happened, I could still see them as queer characters helping each other process trauma. And maybe I set myself up in a bubble part of the fandom that fully convinced me that Fairgame was possible, but at the very least I truly, undoubtedly thought that Clover would side with Qrow.
And as I watched episode 12, I could feel my stomach sinking. Okay Clover didn’t side with Qrow at first, but maybe he’ll come around. Okay maybe he won’t come around, but maybe he’ll take Qrow in and they’ll have time to talk, maybe even with Ironwood. But then Clover abandons the ship, abandons Qrow and I was scrambling even more for hope that things would be okay. Maybe he’s trying to get away to diffuse things. But then “Never pegged you for the manipulative type” the first sign of Qrow doubting their entire relationship, of feeling betrayed again. And then Clover calls Qrow cynical? Maybe I’m forgetting something, cause I haven’t gone back and analyzed every scene with them, but I can’t remember Qrow ever being cynical around Clover this volume that we’ve seen. Self-deprecating yes, but this is legitimately the happiest and most secure we’ve ever seen Qrow. But okay maybe they’ll reason and Clover will come around. But then “We don’t have to fight, friend.” and it’s friend not Qrow. And then “You don’t know my friends. That’s how it always goes.” and I broke. I almost stopped there, a part of me wishes I had. Because it was already so broken, this thing that had even in the past few weeks, been a main pillar of hope for me. But maybe they’ll come together to fight Tyrian. And then Qrow goes after Tyrian and Clover keeps attacking Qrow. Well maybe he’s really trying to protect him, or has some plan. But then they continue to fight each other. And they don’t have even a moment of “who’s the bigger threat here? Us or the serial killer?” And then Qrow works with Tyrian?! Tyrian the serial killer? Tyrian the unstable maniac? Tyrian who tried to take Ruby? Tyrian who nearly killed Qrow? Tyrian who fucking worships Salem, who Qrow has spent most of his life fighting, has lost Summer to, and countless other traumas? (and I get the possible reasons, realizing that Clover won’t lay off of him so Tyrian is his best bet and then he can take care of Tyrian, but I still don’t like it. But this isn’t even about whether or not I think it’s good writing or characterization and it’s too long already to get into that.) And then Tyrian and Qrow fight so well together and I honestly felt sick. We haven’t seen Qrow work that well with anyone. Not RWBY, not Ironwood, not Clover. And now we see it with fucking Tyrian? And maybe it’s a stretch but it honestly felt like another nail in the “Qrow attracts bad” coffin that is his insecurities. Qrow and Tyrian fight nearly perfectly together and it felt so damn wrong. Clover’s wrong here, Qrow’s wrong here, and it all feels so very very wrong based on the entire progression of their relationship throughout the volume. And then Qrow takes down Clover’s aura and I’m just empty. There’s no hint of him trying to just beat Clover and not kill him. He has no reason to think that Tyrian won’t actually go for the kill during this fight. But they continue to have these snippets of “We don’t have to fight” or “I want to trust you” while showing no signs of holding back and still caring about the other’s well being. And then Qrow’s voice breaking during “Why couldn’t you just do the right thing…”. We’ve literally never seen Qrow this emotionally compromised, let alone during a fight. He’s crumbling because he finally had someone who made him think he could get better, that he could have close relationships, that he could be good for the people around him. And now he’s losing it.
I was broken here, I was already spiraling. I knew Clover would get hit. I knew I would be struggling to deal with this episode because I had so fully expected a different course. But I thought there could still be hope. There had to still be hope. CRWBY wouldn’t give us all that development, wouldn’t show Qrow finally happy without leaving some hope for things turning around in the finale. He’d get hit by Tyrian’s stinger and Qrow would have to work to save him and they’d work things out. But then “I trust James with my life… and I wanted to trust you.” And I’m sobbing. Because I get it, Clover’s loyal, but when Qrow’s face hardens I know what he’s thinking. What he’s trying not to think but it’s so hard to fight: “Maybe it is me. Maybe I can’t be trusted. Maybe I’ve ruined things again”. Even though he knows what James is doing is wrong. But he trusted James, he trusted Clover. And he thought they trusted, cared for him. And now they’ve both turned against him and no matter how much he knows he’s doing the right thing, he can’t help but worry that he’s still the thing broken here, that he still messed up somewhere and ruined the relationships he needed so much. I was breaking more and more as I watched this source of my own hope lose all hope.
And then Harbinger. The weapon Qrow built himself. That he modeled after his hero. The literal extension of his soul. And only moments before, Qrow destroyed the one thing that might have protected Clover. Clover’s emblem falls. Tyrian with “Like you killed Clover”. And yeah yeah Qrow being framed is heartbreaking. But it’s more that he’ll believe it. He did. He fucked everything up again. He tried so hard to do the right thing and still managed to hurt the person he cared about. And if Clover, the foil to his bad luck, could be destroyed by his semblance, how does anyone else stand a chance? And then blaming James. Swearing to make him pay (I honestly don’t remember if he says make him pay or kill him but I physically can’t rewatch that scene to see which it was). And yes he blames James. He hates James. It was the last straw breaking on someone he wanted to trust so much, wanted to have as a friend. But he still blames himself. He still knows he’s cursed and all the progress he’d made with Clover’s help is ripped away.
And then “Good luck”. I’ve seen people saying it’s sweet, that it’s a moment of reconciliation, of Clover showing he still cares. And I don’t necessarily disagree. But I hate it. Because Qrow won’t take it that way. It’s just another reminder that good luck is out of his reach. And then the goddamn sky and the bi flag colors. And then we see Qrow cry for the first time. And then…. The scream…. I literally nearly vomited and that was the thing that sent me over the edge into full blown panic attack. Because I know that fucking scream. I know how it feels. I hear it ringing in my ears, I feel my throat getting raw. I could hear and see and feel myself in the same position. The nightmare I’d fought off for years; kneeling over Emma’s body and there being nothing I can do but scream and scream as the last of the hope I was clutching to faded with her… with Clover’s eyes.
It wasn’t that Clover died. It wasn’t that my ship won’t happen. It was how traumatizing it was. It was that Harbinger was now defiled. It was that Qrow set it up to happen. It was the sky. It was seeing the light go out of Clover’s eyes. It was Qrow’s scream. We’ve never seen a death like this on RWBY before. Yes we watched Pyrrha’s death. But there was no blood. We didn’t see her bleed out. We didn’t see the exact moment the light left her eyes. We saw Adam stabbed and some bleeding and then hitting the rocks, but we weren’t right there, seeing the exact moment of his death close up. If Clover had been stung by Tyrian and died I’d be upset still, and many of the issues I have would still be relevant. But using Harbinger like that, playing directly into Qrow’s own insecurities like that, after having him do things that felt extremely out of character in order to set things up for Tyrian to kill Clover like that and blame Qrow? It felt vile.
It didn’t just feel like bad writing or different narrative choices. Hell, it didn’t even just feel OOC. It felt malicious. It felt like twisting established plot and characterisation completely in order to make it fit some tragic climax that was only chosen because it would have the biggest emotional impact, not because it was the best way to continue the plot. And they can’t say that they didn’t expect people to be so attached to Clover. Because if they didn’t expect that to be so emotional for viewers, then why do it like that in the first place? Why put in the climatic cinematic shot that mirrors when Yang lost her arm? Why have Qrow screaming over Clover’s body be the final shot? If Clover was never meant to have significance to both Qrow and fans, why make his death so painful? They can’t say that they didn’t know fans would get so invested at the same time that they say that it was necessary to make it that traumatic. It’s not that you can’t kill off beloved characters, no matter how long they’ve been in the show. But if you do, it’s got to feel important, it’s got to feel necessary, and it’s got to make sense for those characters, or else it just feels like you’re playing with peoples’ emotions for no reason other than shock factor.
I’ve seen a bunch of theories and discourse. Arguments over whether or not it’s queerbaiting or bury your gays. Over whether or not it’s bad writing or out of character. And I’m sure I’ll eventually have a stronger, more thought out opinion on that, but right now I can’t even get there.
I’ve seen theories as to why CRWBY did this, why it’s important to the plot. And maybe I’m wrong, maybe I’ll be just as surprised in a good way next week as I was in a traumatic way this week. But it will take a lot, and I will still need time to recover and dig myself back out of my own intrusive thoughts that saw this episode and rejoiced because “See!? See, good things can’t happen! You’ll always lose whatever good you find. You’ll always ruin whatever good you find.” And none of the theories I’ve seen make that better. Maybe they’ll bring Clover back with the Staff of Creation or some other method: doesn’t matter, the damage is still done. Qrow still is betrayed and traumatized. And even if Clover came back and Ironwood realized he was wrong and stopped, even if everything went back to exactly what it was, Qrow still would have lost all the progress he made this season. Because even if everything was fixed, Qrow would still have to fight down the newly boosted fear that everything will fall apart again. And similarly even if I come back to RWBY and things are good, I will still have a hard time trusting the show, and will still have to climb my way out of a hole I had just gotten out of, except this time I won’t have the comfort of RWBY to help me.
Or maybe Clover won’t come back and Qrow will relapse and try to kill Ironwood and lose his mind like the scarecrow he is. And what will that do but reinforce the fear and idea that “broken” people can’t escape their vices? That they’ll always come back to pain. Yes, it’s important to show that people can relapse and still get better, that relapse doesn’t mean all hope is lost. But there’s a difference between a relapse and new trauma that directly undercuts all the progress you’ve made. That’s not inspirational, it’s exhausting. Yes, you can come back again, but what about the next time and the next and the next? When will you just get to be secure in your happiness without worrying that at any moment you’ll thrown back to square one?
If it turns out there’s some great plot point this creates, some big revelation that fixes things, I still think it wasn’t done properly. Fine, have that, have that pain. But don’t end on that and leave people for a week. It’s not about it being a cliffhanger. It’s about people who are traumatized being abandoned. (Again, I’m not even getting into how, if this did happen, how episode 12 would still feel off from a characterization standpoint and whether or not it was poor writing. It’s an analysis I can’t currently do.)
And maybe my least favorite theory and the one that I might see as most likely; that Qrow won’t relapse. That he won’t completely lose it and instead Clover’s death and influence will be what keeps him going. Because yeah, that sounds great, that sounds heroic and strong and like the progress that came from knowing Clover did make a difference. But it feels wrong in this instance. Qrow’s had that. He’s had loss that hurt him but he kept going to finish something or honor them. He kept going after Summer died. He kept going for Ruby and Yang and Tai. If he didn’t have that, why would he have kept going when things were so bad? But Qrow doesn’t need that again. He doesn’t need another pain to spur him on. He needs support. He needs proof that his hard work, his struggle, has been worth it and that he still has allies. And not just the kids. Because as much as he respects them, as much as he believes in them and their abilities as hunters, he’s still protective of them, they still aren’t on an equal level. He still feels responsible for them. And that’s good for him, but he needs adults too. He needs people who aren’t his responsibility. He needs adults who can call him out on his shit. He needs adults he can lean on, who can take care of him. And now who does he have? Summer is gone. Raven is gone. Tai is back at home. Oz is gone. Lionheart betrayed him. James has now betrayed him. Winter has sided with James and might not be alive much longer? Robyn is there, but also hurt, and we haven’t seen anything to suggest that they are particularly close. And now Clover is dead. Clover, the only person we have ever seen Qrow let his guard down around like we did this season.
And it’s not that the “Staying alive for the person you’ve lost” is a bad plot line, and if I’d trust any show to do it I would’ve thought it’d be RWBY. But I can tell you from fucking experience, forcing yourself to keep going in honor of someone? Yeah, it might keep you alive. It might give you meaning and even lead you to do great things. But when it’s just you and your head? When you’re alone because you’ve lost everyone who kept you going and now you have to keep going without them, for them? It fucking sucks. It’s not poetic. It’s not this heroic strength that lifts you up. It’s a crushing weight of fear that you will fail again, that you’re the only one who can carry this burden, but this time you’ll let down the person most important to you. And then not only will you have fucked up your life but you’d have made their suffering and loss meaningless.
And I can see why CRWBY might take this route, what their message might be, and maybe for them and for some people it’s good, but personally it’s crushing. Because it can be a good thing to have the desire to honor someone spur you on, that’s literally why we still have RWBY. But if that’s the only thing you have? It’s toxic. You have to have other support and motivations of your own to keep you going without becoming hollow inside. And right now, Qrow doesn’t have that. Right now, if Qrow uses this to push him forward, it’s not recovery, it’s not avoiding a relapse; it’s falling into a new, much harder to spot, addiction.
Yes, shitty things happen regardless of whether or not you’ve recovered from previous shitty things. Yes, life isn’t fair and sometimes it feels like you just get hit down over and over. And yes, people die in war and it’s ruthless and unfair. But RWBY is still a show. It’s still a show about hope. It’s still fiction, an escape from the cruelty of reality. And to me there were multiple other options for the plot to create conflict and sacrifice without doing it in a way that seems so needlessly cruel.
This is complicated and layered and I think there have been mistakes made on multiple sides, and in the end, we still don’t know what CRWBY has planned and how things will go from here and why they chose this. Because everything has a meaning in RWBY. At least I want to believe that. But right now it’s very hard to think that all the meaning that was what made this my favorite volume, was anything more than a trap to make the end that much more painful. And that hurts. I want to believe that’s not the case. But it’s very, very hard. And like I said before, even if they pull it off amazingly and everything makes sense after next week, damage has still been done. No matter what happens, there were ways things could have been handled either throughout the volume or in this episode that, while still having emotional significance and sacrifice, could have been less traumatizing to a large portion of the fandom who supports CRWBY specifically because they trust them not to do something like that to them.
In the end I’m hurt because right now it feels like the entirety of this volume was just a build up for the shock value of tearing Qrow down again. And I’m just tired of it. I’m biased I know, and maybe for some people it’s an important narrative. But to me it just feels like angst just for the sake of being cruel to a character who can’t catch a break. Since Emma’s death I understandably haven’t been a big fan of really angsty fanfiction. At first seeing fics where a character lost their partner made me irrationally angry. Because why can’t good things happen in fictional worlds? Why do characters I care about have to suffer like I do just for the sake of being angsty? Why would someone do that to a character they love? Why inflict that absolute agony onto a character when you could just, let them be happy? Yes conflict and sacrifice are crucial to good storytelling, but you still have to leave a character some hope, or else what’s the point of just watching them linger in misery? This kind of pain isn’t just a plot point that gets addressed for one or two episodes and then is fully dealt with. It’s a part of who you are now and will be for the rest of your life.
I’ve been sad over shows before. I’ve thought plot lines were bad and like I’d lost a character that deserved better. But I’ve never had something take me from a (relatively) stable mindset to a truly frightening spiral like I’ve been in this week. If this had happened when I was younger (granted if it had happened before Emma’s death it wouldn’t have had the same meaning), if it had been during that first year? It really might have been a breaking point for me. The final straw. The only reason I’m able to know that as truly devastating as this has been for me this week, I’m not in actual danger of getting to a critically low space, is because I’ve learned how to deal with those low places these past four years. I’m still in a dangerous headspace but I know how to handle it. I know to reach out, to vent, to ask friends to keep an eye on me, to keep an eye out for critical signs that I’m getting worse and I need more professional help. But if I’d had this trauma as a teen and saw this, or if I’d seen it before I’d built up this method of keeping myself safe even when in the worst headspaces? I don’t know that I would have been able to deal with it.
There’s a loud part of my head that is berating me for letting this affect me so much. For letting a show and fictional characters be the catalyst for me having to actively ask my friends to keep sharp instruments away from me for the first time in years. I’ll have a moment of clarity of “It’s not that bad, you’ll get past it” before being swallowed back up by the hopelessness. I have moments of “How could you let a fictional character’s death put you in this place, but not Emma? How is he more important?”
But it’s not about RWBY or Clover or Qrow. It’s about my brain, and how I as a neurodivergent person deal with things. It’s about this how thing that I use to filter parts of my life through so that I can handle them in more reasonable chunks, is now a trigger itself. I currently don’t have any other hyperfixations, which means every time I have a moment of silence, or start to get feeling down again, my brain goes to RWBY, because usually that’s how I pull myself out. But that just reminds me of the loss RWBY currently represents. Not just the trauma this has brought up, but the fact that I’ve lost this source of comfort. And then I’m left scrambling for anything as I spiral further and further. I’m at the point where unless I am having constant outside stimulus to keep my brain occupied I go right back into a nosedive. And there’s nothing I can do on my own to stop it. So I just have to ride it out, fight back dozens of overwhelming intrusive thoughts, and try to think that I won’t always be this miserable, even though the current thing that was helping me believe that has just shown me the opposite is true.
And no, creators can’t be held responsible for the mental states of fans of their work. But when things are done that directly hurt so many people, that even if not intended to, feel so calculated and malicious, they have to acknowledge the part they played in that trauma.
The point of whether there was queer baiting/byg, and mlm representation and how its handled, is very important, but it is also something I just can’t even begin to look at right now from an analytical viewpoint. I can’t begin to come at this from an activist place right now. And I know there are plenty of other people who can speak on it better than I could currently. My queer identity is largely wrapped up in my grief and how it affects me, but that also means that when I’m spiraling, it is very hard to focus and make good points about things that are not issues I’ve directly experienced. The only reason I can write this at all is because these are really just emotions I’ve dealt with for years that were dragged back up.
RWBY has always been about finding hope when it feels impossible. But this feels like it’s becoming “keep finding new hope but know you’ll lose it too and have to start over”.
RWBY has been what gave me hope that even when bad thing after bad thing happened, there was a reason to keep going, that eventually something good would come your way and you don’t have to live in fear of losing it. That you can still be broken and be worthy of good things. But this episode ripped that all away and told me that sometimes a person is never meant to be happy no matter how hard they try.
A big reason I have clung to RWBY so much, and admired CRWBY so much, and in turn been so forgiving of plotlines or details that I maybe wasn’t the biggest fan of, was because I see myself in them. They lost Monty so suddenly and tragically and I understand that as much as anyone who isn’t them can. I understand the drive of keeping the show going. When I’m working on my own writing and art about my story and my loss, they are a huge inspiration to me to keep going even when it feels impossible. I can barely listen to Indomitable because, much like Jaune losing Pyrrha, it is uncanny how close to home it hits. They have been through more than we as fans can or should ever expect to know. Because even as someone very open about their grief, who wants to get rid of the stigma of expressing grief, I know that everyone deserves to keep as much of their grief and pain private as they need. And I can't even begin to imagine how hard it is to work on a show that is literally a feat of love and honor to a person you’ve lost, and then have people attack it and you, and make huge accusations, even try to use your loved one’s memory against you. It’s my biggest fear in creating something so incredibly personal but so important.
And I know that everyone handles grief differently, and no matter how many people you have to support you it can be an extremely isolating thing. I know that no one has the right to tell someone else they are grieving wrong, and I would never dare do that to them. Because I know that the ways I grieve and the things that piss me off about grief and people’s reactions to it, will not line up with everyone else’s, and that’s okay. So the exact things that hurt me so much may be the things that CRWBY find cathartic.
But I still think it’s important to talk about something that hurts you. To help people understand a facet of grief that might not be what they’ve experienced. Because even people who want to help, who want to provide representation to those hurting, can never please everyone, and even can even hurt people. I want to trust CRWBY. I want to believe they care about the queer community (even if they don’t always succeed in providing good representation), I want to believe they wouldn’t purposefully try to hurt queer fans with queerbaiting or byg. I want to believe they don’t actually hate mlm.
Narrative is complicated and sometimes things are done that will unknowingly cause harm, or that were topics that the writers didn’t understand enough to properly execute. Things that may seem so obvious to the people who were hurt could truly be things that hadn’t occurred to the writers. And that’s not to excuse those writers from acknowledging their mistake, but to give them a chance to learn and improve. I think a great example is The Adventure Zone (slight spoilers ahead), and how Griffin McElroy handled the fans’ reaction after Sloane and Hurley died in Petals to the Metal. He hadn’t wanted to hurt anyone but he made a decision that was very upsetting for many people and that wasn’t okay. But he listened and apologized and from there on not only tried to provide better representation, but asked about how he could do so, consulted the people he was trying to represent in order to do everything he could to not cause that kind of pain again. Creators are human and deserve second chances, as long as they show they are actively trying to improve.
Things will be learning experiences, but the people who are hurt in those learning experiences, and who are often the ones hurt in such things over and over, are still allowed to be hurt and upset. Intent is not effect. And for creators who want to be inclusive and supportive, it is their responsibility to accept criticism and work to avoid making the same mistakes. Like I said at the start of this, criticism is not harassment and harassment helps no one. Be as angry as you are, be as open as you need, but cruelty to people who are honestly trying to do good but will still make human mistakes just creates more pain and conflict. You don’t have to like it or forgive it but you can’t invalidate the people who are hurt, who do.
I love RWBY. I want to love CRWBY. I want to keep watching. I want to keep supporting and trusting them. And maybe I’m letting a show have too much influence over me. Maybe it’s unhealthy to project so much on a character. Maybe things will prove to be necessary to tell the story they want to tell. But speaking as a neurodivergent, traumatized, grieving, queer person, I still feel betrayed and hurt by something that I trusted enough to be vulnerable about and I don’t want to sugarcoat or hide that.
I can’t say I hate CRWBY or I’ve lost all hope in or respect for them, because I’ve related to them so much and know how complicated things like this can be. And because I don’t think I personally can write someone off while still in such an emotionally raw space. I’ll have to take some time to see if I’m able to watch the finale this weekend, but I will most likely watch it, if not just a bit later than I usually would. And RWBY has thrown big surprises at us before, and I can’t know what will happen in the finale and how it will feed into or try to heal some of the pain we’re feeling. But regardless of what the narrative intent is in Clover’s death, it needs to be acknowledged that episode 12 alone, ending on such an intense scene that wouldn’t be resolved for at least a week, hurt people. And CRWBY needs to acknowledge and take responsibility for it. I can’t say that I’m the most up to date on social media and what each person involved with volume 7 has said in the past few months. But I know that numerous official twitter accounts posted things that led people to put more credibility in Fairgame, myself included. And that even after seeing how big the ship had gotten, and knowing what the outcome was, some of CRWBY continued to seemingly feed into the excitement, even teasing about how hard episode 12 would hit us.
That’s honestly one of the reasons I think this feels not just like bad writing or something, but betrayal. Of course RT can’t control everything everyone involved with RWBY posts, but for a company that has tried to seem so supportive of lgbt and mentally ill fans, they should have, at the very least, not have fed the flame and given people hope and supposed credibility that they knew would crumble after this episode. It feels like, even if they hadn’t intended this entire plot point to come across the way it has, they saw us going down this path and egged us on for added shock factor.
And even if somehow the finale fixes everything, it doesn’t undo that hurt. It makes me think of the trailers for Insatiable when it first came out. How toxic and fat shaming they seemed and how people reacted poorly to it, but then all the people involved responded with how positive the show was, and that people shouldn’t judge it before they saw it. Or those “joke” videos or posts of kids coming out and the parents getting angry but then it’s about some stupid other thing. It’s meant to trigger a very sensitive issue, that people who have gone through traumas related to those issues are all too familiar with seeing over and over. So why would they have faith that this wasn’t just another one of those times when everything they see points to the opposite? Why trigger people who have already been hurt, for the sake of shock factor? It’s poor and callous writing.
And that’s what this feels like. It feels like we were exploited in order to make this hurt more. And maybe that was a very unfortunate accident. But CRWBY still needs to acknowledge that they made mistakes, and do what they can to prove to the fans that they still deserve our trust. And that’s not going to be an easy one and done thing. For some it may never be enough, and that is completely valid.
Of course everyone has different histories and issues that can lead them to be drawn to a certain show or character. And creators can’t ever know for sure that they won’t bring up painful things for any of their fans, and often trying to do so can make the content and message suffer. But even though everyone might not have a story that is as “obviously” traumatic as mine, might not have things they so directly relate to in Qrow and in Clover’s death, they’re all still valid in the pain they’re feeling. One of my least favorite things about living with grief is people thinking that their traumas and struggles aren’t as big or important as my own.
This week I’ve told people how hard a time I’m having, and why. And the people who know my backstory understood. The people who didn’t know though, brushed it off as crazy fangirl, tumblr discourse drivel. Even to my face after I told them how much I was hurting, they would groan about people getting so obsessed with fictional characters. You shouldn’t have to know why something negatively affects someone the way it does in order to respect the fact that it does. And I’m not more valid in my pain than people with “smaller” reasons. The fact is that a lot of people are hurting. A lot of queer and mentally ill people are reliving trauma. And like me, many of these people trusted CRWBY to be supportive, to be a comfort in a world where it’s hard to find sometimes. And that makes it hurt all the more.
I wasn’t in the fandom when Monty died, so I don’t know a lot about how CRWBY handled it, what they said publicly, what inevitable fandom discourse there was about how to navigate things. The only reason I bring him up at all, (because I’ve seen people mention him in discourse posts before and it’s usually hurtful and out of line and I truly hate it) is because he, and how CRWBY continues to honor him by keeping his creation going, is a huge part of why I feel so attached to it. My creative focus is on talking about Emma, about honoring her, telling her story, about sharing my grief with people. And while it’s extremely important to me, it’s also terrifying to think about people one day saying I let her down, or that because I made certain decisions I ruined the work or anything like that. And whether or not I am currently happy with every member of CRWBY doesn’t affect the fact that I will always keep in mind that RWBY is something directly tied to someone they’ve lost and it can be extremely difficult to have that kind of work criticized and not get defensive or angry (that’s not to say we can’t criticize things that are made in honor of someone, but that we need to remember there are still people dealing with grief on the other end of what we say). They’ll react poorly to certain things, they’ll say the wrong things, they’ll but heads with opinionated fans. And that’s not to excuse them for that, or to say we shouldn’t hold them accountable and communicate our problems with them and expect them to learn from past mistakes. But they aren’t faceless monsters in some big corporation who just make this for the money. They have real emotional investment in their work and I honestly believe they are well intentioned and want to support lgbt and mentally ill fans. But good intentions don’t ensure there won’t be negative impact, and if they truly want to keep, or regain fans’ trust and support they need to show they understand that.
It may be naive and there may be things I don’t know that might have changed my view but until now, even with some writing choices I didn’t love, I've really liked CRWBY and trusted them. I personally can’t say I hate them and write them off right now. I understand if you can, if this was the last straw or just proving your view, and that’s all valid. But I want to, as much as possible, believe that they’re well intentioned. RWBY is far from perfect. CRWBY is far from perfect. But that’s ok. As long as there’s effort to improve and acknowledge mistakes and try to make amends
It’s possible that things I’ve said here may anger some people, and unfortunately, as much as I tried to avoid it, may hurt CRWBY. Because as hurt and angry with them as I might be right now, I don’t want to hate them or hurt them. I’m human as well, and I’m very passionate about this and have a very personal attachment to it. So I acknowledge that it is totally possible that I have said something here that I could have handled better. If so, please, let me know. Constructively. If you need to, privately. Don’t attack me for it. I know when a conversation is toxic to me and I will not put myself in that position and will block people. But I want to be open to criticism, just as I want CRWBY to be. I want to know what I did wrong and how I can work to do better in the future. There are also certain things that I firmly believe that I know not everyone will like. And that’s okay. I have my own ways of dealing with grief and pain that will inevitably conflict with others. In those cases, while I won’t apologize for being honest about how I feel, I will understand and listen to how I may have hurt you. Different opinions and ways of coping will always be a part of grief conversations and it is less about making others agree with you and more about giving people a place to express their pain.
This is ridiculously, stupidly, long and honestly I’m not sure there’s a clear point and if you read through it all the way, you’re a saint. But I just needed to get this out, and I hope that maybe, somehow, through the ranting, it might help someone feel less alone in their pain, or feel validated. I started writing this on Sunday and wanted to post it before the finale. It’s now Friday and who knows if there’s really any point to posting it now, but still.
I don’t know what will happen tomorrow. I don’t know how I will handle it. I’ve seen discourse that made me anxious all over again all week. I’ve seen jokes or edits or trolls that made me sick. But there are people out here for you. There are people to talk to who will just listen. You aren’t alone. And while I can’t promise you that everything will be okay, I can promise you that there will be people here to help you get through it. There are ways to get through it. They’re not always fun or ideal, but they’re there. And eventually you’ll be able to feel okay again. The pain might not be gone for good, but you’ll have good moments again. You’ll learn how to create good moments. I still want to believe that “broken” people can be happy again, even though the world may try to show me otherwise over and over. It’s not easy, and sometimes I honestly just don’t see how it can possibly be true. But I keep trying to get back to those good places and appreciate them, for as long as I can.
#rwby spoilers#rwby7#rwby v7#rwby#fairgame#fair game#rwby volume 7#qrow#rwby v7 spoilers#rwby v7 e12#qrow branwen#clover ebi#clover deserved better#qrow x clover#really scared to post this#was gonna get a few people to edit for me#but then it got so long and late#and didn't feel like asking them to do that with such little time#since I wanted to post before the finale#so hopefully there's nothing awful here I've overlooked#this probably wont even get much attention#if any#especially cause it's so stupidly long#ooof sorry about that#really#I just needed to vent and....#Emma#grief#mine
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Event Twelve: Underhanded Tactics
Eridan woke up in the medbay, a common occurrence these nights. His whole head throbbed, and he slid his tongue along the roof of his cotton-dry mouth. He cracked open an eye only to screw it shut again, head panging again as a jolt of fear rattled through his gut. The phantom scent of antiseptic teased at his memory, the sound of hair clippers and the saw discordant and lingering as the Empress crooned at his side. You are my confidante, she’d said. You must keep my secrets close, locked tight so no one can pull them from you. Stop crying, guppy, brain surgery ain’t so bad.
He took a deep breath through his nose, gills flaring as he struggled to avoid hyperventilating. The past couldn’t hurt him, initial panic notwithstanding. His arm itched, a faint movement confirming the IV needle sunk into a vein. He felt around for the needle, ripping it out of his arm and clamping his hand down to stem the resulting spurt of blood.
“Sir!” Eridan ignored the alarmed squawk of a nearby mediculler, sitting up on the medical platform and peeling his eyes open. “You should be resting--”
“I didn’t give nobody permission to bring me in, Icrusa,” Eridan said, voice a rough croak. He cleared his throat, replacing his whole hand with his index finger to put pressure on the IV site instead. The mediculler swallowed hard, shrinking back as Eridan shot him an icy glare. “Told you this the last time.”
“You keep passing out, sir,” Icrusa said. His ears flushed a brilliant yellow as Eridan glowered. “You really shouldn’t be drinking so much, not with your pan in such a delicate state.” Icrusa stopped speaking as Eridan gripped onto the side of the medical platform, highblood strength twisting and warping the metal frame.
“My pan ain’t delicate,” he said. “I’m no different than I was a sweep ago. I’m not some delicate pissblooded helmsman. I can handle it. And the next time you try an’ give me some holier than thou bullshit regardin’ my drinkin’ habits, I’m setting you out the airlock. I didn’ ask for you to give me fuckin’ unsolicited health advice an’ you’d fuckin’ do well to remember that.” He reached for his glasses, shoving them on his face. His finger skipped over the false slap of skin at his temples, hiding the new port for a biowire. His stomach rolled, and he shoved it away. Don’t think about it. Don’t feel. Shut off your emotions, guppy, like a husktop. “I can’t get work done in the medbay. Sign my release form.”
Icrusa hesitated before bobbing his head, scurrying back to his office. He knew better by this point than to point out that yes, actually, it was his job to give health advice considering his status as the ship’s official mediculler after the last time Eridan woke up hungover in the medbay. Eridan watched him the whole time through narrowed eyes, foot tapping at a near frantic pace as he waited. He left the medbay even before the mediculler left his office, lifting the cape folded at the end of the platform and swinging it back around his shoulders. A sweep ago he would have felt childish, wearing a cape again, haunted by wiggler memories of immature games and lofty aspirations he could never hope to reach. But the Empress had given it to him, just for him in her color, gold woven into the hem with his sign etched into the embroidery, marking him as hers.
He went to his block, avoiding the stares from crew members as he swept past them. He didn’t need their concern or their pity to do his job. The moment he entered he snatched a half-empty flask from his desk, draining the rest of it and sighing as his throat burned. Nothing beat a hangover like a bit of hair of the woofbeast, and a few minutes later his panic faded back into the background. Everything was okay. He was fine, everything was normal, and he could get to work.
Eridan sank into his chair, fumbling around for a bottle of soporific and refilling his flask as he eyed a desk drawer with distaste. He sucked in a breath before opening it, picking up the squirming biowire pinched between his index finger and thumb. He gritted his teeth before flicking the false flap of skin back, putting the wire to his temple. The biowire squirmed and sank into the port, and Eridan flinched as pain shot through his brain. The Empress had assured him the procedure was safe, convenient, but every time he hooked up to a computer Eridan felt like death clawed at his pan. He didn’t have psionics, he didn’t have all the electric pulses constantly thrumming through his body and shortening the neural pathways so the biowire could work efficiently. The biowire twisted his thoughts into agonized tendrils, every transfer of encrypted data giving him a migraine for hours.
Still he hooked himself to his computer, taking another draft from his refilled flask as he opened up his alerts and tasks for the day. A download automatically started-- a security update for the ship itself, procedures for lockdown in case of a hijacking. The rebellion kept forcing the Empire’s hand, this latest security update a response to the more frequent hijackings by the movement that drew closer and closer to the heart of the fleet. Eridan bowed his head as the details wove their way into the meat of his pan, sinking into the hardware and locking themselves away. His hands shook, and he had to take a few minutes before focusing back on his tasks. His duties as Head Admin hadn’t ceased. Supplies needed ordering, personnel needed allocating, and patrol routes needed vetting. The duties never stopped, they never stopped piling up, and the notifications at the bottom right of his husktop screen with the sheer number of them seared their image into Eridan’s eyeballs.
Eridan leaned back in his seat, scrubbing at his eyes and then staring at the ceiling. Turn off the emotions. He could do that, he needed to do that, in order to keep going. He couldn’t waylay the demands of the Empress, and he had a responsibility to his ship to keep it running. Wasting time freaking out about the lack of time and lack of autonomy held him back. Besides, he never made good decisions for himself in the first place.
The intercom crackled on his desk, and Eridan snarled as he depressed the call button with his finger. “The fuck you need, Shakes?”
“Uh. Sorry to bother you, but we got a docking request,” Shakes said. “You good?”
“Not relevant. The BC Condescension is a galaxy over until the end of the perigee, so tell whoever we ain’t dockin’ for shit.”
“No, no, boss, this ain’t just any old request. It’s, uh, an interrogatormentor cruiser?”
Eridan lifted his head where he’d been resting it on his hand, blood crystallizing into icy shards of fear. “What? Why?”
“Beats me,” Shakes said. “They’ve got all the required security codes all lined up neat for me. I couldn’t get a bead on the helmsman either-- It’s like they don’t even have one. Do I let them dock?”
“It’s th’ bloody interrogatormentors. Do we have a choice?” Eridan plucked the biowire from his skull, shoving it back in his desk and smoothing his hair flat once again. “Let them on. I’ll let the Captain know.”
He met the interrogatormentors in the docking bay as they disembarked their tiny cruiser. The two purples stood out, towering high above the third, weedy troll between them. Eridan had to shake himself as he took in the yellowblood, the image of the decrepit Helmsman superimposed over the far more muscled and smooth-faced interrogatormentor in front of them. The fact the interrogatormentor clearly had helming experience didn’t help, his skin riddled with resealable ports that shone in the overhead lights. That explained the helmsman, then. Of course Shakes wouldn’t be able to get a bead on a helmsman with interrogatormentor training. Eridan cleared his throat, straightened his posture, and approached.
“Are you the captain?” The yellowblood cocked his head an inch, looking Eridan up and down. Something in his tone indicated he already knew the answer to his question, and his lisp niggled at memory in the back of Eridan’s pan.
“No. I’m Head Admin Ampora. State your business and I will fetch the captain for--”
The female purple to the side of the first interrogatormentor held up a hand, cutting him off. She wore no face paint unlike her companion. The male purple in question stared at Eridan openly, twitching as he heard Eridan’s name. It took Eridan a moment to register Gamzee aged as he was, gone through his final adult molt and towering above him. He met Gamzee’s eyes for only a moment before tearing his gaze away. He couldn’t risk Gamzee opening his mouth. He only wondered how Gamzee had landed a position alongside an interrogatormentor squad considering how Eridan faintly recalled outing his rebel connections upon first meeting the Empress.
The yellowblooded interrogatormentor cleared his throat. “Doesn’t matter,” he said. His fangs flashed as he spoke. “You’ve been compromised, Admin Ampora.”
The voice finally knocked something loose in Eridan’s pan, unlocking memories of voice calls at midday and filled with shouting wigglers spouting heresy. “TwinArmageddons?”
“CaligulasAquarium,” the yellow interrogatormentor replied, without missing a beat.
Eridan stared at him, and stayed silent. They stayed at an impasse for a few moments, neither of them willing to out the other's rebel ties without revealing their own as Gamzee kept looking between them as the treasonous icing on the cake. It was as if Eridan had handed the interrogatormentor a grenade, and the yellowblood had pulled the pin while the grenade sat in their joined hands.
The female purple looked to the yellow, who cleared his throat. “I read his file. He read mine.” Eridan didn’t like how easily he lied, terror still prickling at the base of his skull. He scratched the back of his head, trying to ignore the wicked scar there.
“So. Right. You here to torture me?” Eridan asked. “Interrogatormentor…?”
“Captor,” the yellowblood said. He indicated the female purple, and then Gamzee. “Interrogatormentor Davrot, Security Officer Makara. We’re responding to an alert your ship is harboring rebels and they are attempting to remove you from your position as the Empress’ consort.”
Eridan’s brows furrowed, and he shook his head. “No. You got the wrong ship. I ain’t recruitin’ rebels. Especially none tryin’ to undermine me.”
Captor snorted, lowering his chin in a clear sign of arrogant condescension. He waved a hand and the two purples separated from his side where they’d clung like remoras to a shark’s parasite-ridden gills. “Strange. The report said you’re the one that caught the alert and brought it to the Empire’s attention.”
Eridan stared, trying to knit together the holes in his memory and recall ever summoning interrogatormentors. He did a lot of his work drunk now, true enough, but he had a handle on it and remembered the important information. If anything he only remembered the Empress, a foggy memory of her praising him for his work against the rebellion. Was this what she meant?
He turned as he heard yelling and a distant commotion, but Captor waved a hand. “Ignore this and get back to whatever you Head Admins call work while we deal with your infestation,” he said. “You’ll be updated when we get what we need.”
He walked away, silent as before as he ghosted after the two purples. Eridan watched him go before shaking himself back into reality, looking around to see a few crewmates halted in their duties and watching him. “You’re not paid to dick around,” he said, baring his teeth. “Unless any of the rest of you want to be investigated for rebel leanings. Might as well make use of the interrogatormentors while they’re here.” The idle crewmembers jumped back into their work, avoiding Eridan’s eye as he left the room.
Hours passed, and Eridan wanted to throttle something. Everyone wanted to know what the interrogatormentors wanted or needed, and he had nothing to give them. He didn’t even know the name of the troll being investigated, and he didn’t care. As long as the interrogatormentors weren’t knocking at his door and asking what he knew of Feferi and her rebellion, he didn’t care.
Someone knocked on his door. Eridan jumped, almost knocking over his flask onto his keyboard and only just managing to catch it before it fell. He swore and stood, opening the door to see the trio of trolls from earlier, Interrogatormentor Davrot dragging a fourth, barely conscious troll behind her by the hair. Olive blood oozed from multiple lacerations across the troll’s face and arms.
“Bricks?” Eridan tried to not sound so betrayed, but his voice dripped with it.
Bricks stirred, groaning before opening an eye. His other eye was swollen shut. “I’m not a rebel,” Bricks said. He yelped as Davrot yanked his hair up, clinging to her wrist for dear life in a feeble attempt to alleviate the pain. “I’m not. Don’t listen to them-- I just tried to get you help!”
“Help with what?” Eridan’s fingers curled in the hem of his cape, and he let go only when he caught Captor staring at the gesture like a predator eyeing its prey.
Bricks stayed silent, hissing as Davrot forced him onto his knees. She leaned in, grabbing him by the horn and twisting. “No. No no no-- Not again--” Bricks screamed as Eridan caught the sound of horn splintering, grinding against itself. “The Empress! Stop-- She’s killing you, Ampora, can’t you see it? Anyone with eyes can fucking see it, it’s only the rebellion that might care! I don’t give a shit about anything else they do, I just wanted them to get you out of this place before it gets any worse..”
Eridan bristled, hands curling into his fists. Captor moved forward before he could say anything, footsteps inaudible on the metal tile. He put his hand on Bricks’ shoulder. “He sold you out,” he said. “You’re preaching to the choir now.” Bricks blinked, looking from Captor to Eridan who stood immobile. Captor snorted, snapping his fingers. Davrot grabbed Bricks’ hand, linking her fingers with his and holding it high above his head as Captor leaned in and grabbed Bricks by the chin. “It’s kind of sweet, isn’t it? You selling each other out to try and save your own sorry hides. You thought you could get away with this? With trying to snatch the Empress’ consort out from under her?” Captor dropped Bricks’ face and turned his bicolored eyes on Eridan. “You employ soft crewmembers, Admin Ampora. We didn’t even have to press hard to crack him open.”
Captor moved his left hand, swiping it overtop his right. Psionics shimmered in its wake, coalescing into a solid blade of hard light. Eridan could feel the thrum of power from here, hairs on the back of his neck standing on end in the wake of this blatant flexing of psionic ability. Bricks jerked his hand in Davrot’s grip, but she stood immobile as Gamzee grabbed his uninjured horn and kept him locked in place. “Ampora. Eridan. Come on. Who the fuck do you think keeps scraping your sorry ass off the floor every time you pass out? Tell me they’re lying-- You wouldn’t throw me under like this. I know you.”
“You don’t know me,” Eridan said. He couldn’t remember telling any interrogatormentors about an outgoing message to the rebels, or even mentioning it offhand to the Empress. He didn’t know if he wanted to. The Empress gave him everything, she gave him status and gifts and he served as her comfort and her informant. Bricks wanted to take that all away-- He wanted to ruin everything Eridan had worked so hard for and send him back to step one in the dirt with rebels. Rebels that Eridan had burned so many bridges with it might as well be a scrapyard, that had said to his face and beyond that he would never be welcome until he shaped up. He’d shaped up, he’d shipped out into the stars, and crafted himself into something better that neither Feferi nor any of her other cronies could hope to touch. “I… Yeah. I did.”
Bricks’ face fell, only for him to scream as Captor swiped out with the psionic blade and separated the engineer’s hand from his wrist with crunching bone and the smell of seared flesh. The hand skidded across the floor, smearing a trail of olive blood along the floor and landing at Eridan’s feet. Eridan stared down at it as Davrot and Gamzee let Bricks crumple to the ground, clutching his arm and screaming.
He only looked up as Captor advanced on him, schooling his face back into the blank slate the Empress had taught him. A thin line of yellow blood snaked down the interrogatormentor’s face from his nose due to no doubt immeasurable strain required by him wielding that blade. “Keep this close as a reminder to your crew. I trust you’ll do the right thing,” Captor said. He bent down and picked up the hand, and dropped it into Eridan’s. Eridan’s muscles tensed to throw it away, stomach rolling, but he only stared down at it, conditioned by this point to be totally numb as every instinct screamed at him to do something. Instead, he could be good. He could do nothing. The Empress would be proud of him, or at least he hoped as much.
He snapped back to attention as Captor inclined his head and spoke again. “Long live the Empire.”
“Yeah, ‘course,” Eridan said, straightening his back as he automatically saluted, expression schooled into a blank mask, the drunken flush from earlier banished from his face. “Long live the Empire.”
Captor swiped at the trickle of blood on his face with his thumb and nodded, turning on his heel. The two purples flanked him again, bringing up the rear as they disappeared down the hall.
Eridan dropped the hand the moment the interrogatormentors went out of sight, skin crawling, but he couldn’t bring himself to so much as whimper. He couldn’t trust his crew. He couldn’t trust his memory. He could only trust the Empress, that she would recognize the dangers pointing daggers at his back and save him, as she no doubt had in sending interrogatormentors to his ship.
He shut the door to his blocks, leaving Bricks sobbing on the floor. He didn’t feel anything, anything at all. Even as he sent the Captain a message about the incident and Bricks writhed on the floor in pain outside his blocks he felt nothing, the tears that finally spilled from his eyes more a physical response to the lingering smell of charred flesh in his nose more than anything. He’d have to do something about the hand eventually, and he wouldn’t put it past a sadistic interrogatormentor to actually make sure he kept the hand on display somewhere. That definitely would not win him any brownie points with the crew, especially with how alienated he felt from them by this point. He doubted even Shakes would give him the time of day after this, with what he let happen to Bricks. Fuck, he needed another drink.
They’d told him in Fleet Academy that space was vast, that space was empty and cruel and cold. But no one had told him, they didn’t warn him, that space was so fucking lonely.
#homestuck#homestuck au#interrogatormentors#fic#eridan ampora#sollux captor#gamzee makara#alcohol use#alcoholism#torture#amputation#for fun and profit!#and here we are#the last chapter#hope everyone had a better time than the characters here#book one is now complete!
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calling it: ruth is eleven and rivers baby made by immaculate conception during their time in the tardis together. river settled on earth in a quaint little light house to raise her, awaiting the doctor’s return. Because what is a lighthouse except for a beacon to lead ships home. but the timelords found them and stole ruth away. river left earth to find the doctor or ruth or anyone and try to make things right but she dies when she meets ten in the library.
[alternatively, the doctor has had children before, but if they're bringing back nuwho favourites...]
ruth is forced to regenerate, and the timelords get to start with a blank slate, so to speak. she's raised as a timelord but she doesnt get to choose her own name, the timelords tell her she's the doctor - that's why she says she's a time traveler, not a timelord. Timelords get to choose their own names and she was stolen from her truth, and her family, and her identity. They give her her own little blue box to seal the deal.
she befriends an nice girl named gat, who is a little bit of a goody-two-shoes and is the best in class, but she's mouthy and smart and they raise hell together at the academy. maybe she falls a little in love with gat, but she's sure the feelings aren't mutual - gat is married to her work.
The master, after finding o and regenerating, returns to gallifrey because he hears that the doctor is back, but he finds out the truth and loses it. The Master steals a tardis and helps ruth escape back to earth (with her own tardis tucked in his) where he knows the doctor will find her, then decides to destroy gallifrey because what else does he find out? every child of gallifrey is stolen from their family and made to think they are their own people. the timelords created such a militant society that they would raise child soldiers to one day rule the universe. the master was their star student back in the day, but now it’s some little brat called gatha or gati or something.
but he decides he won't do what they want. he is torn apart because he believes he's always made his own decisions and hates the thought of having been groomed by the likes of them. he wants to conquer the universe, but not how they tell him to - child soldiers is one thing, but controlling the master just won't do. so why control what you can destroy.
he hatches a typical master plan and escapes to earth to keep an eye on the doctor's child, but not too close because it pains him to be around her.
he finds the kasaavin. the kasaavin are an alternate timeline and reality version of cybermen "updated" from a timelord. a reality where the doctor doesn’t defeat the mondasian cybermen on the colony ship defeat the doctor. where does this timeline exist except for on the other side of the blackhole that stupid colony ship was sucked into.
then he remembers a past he’d made himself forget. the pain had been too much. he didn’t survive their time on the colony ship. when our missy died in this reality, she died for good. he was from the reality where the cybermen updated the doctor. they took his doctor. and then he came out the other side - our side. he was missy but missy had an idea but had been through too much suffering to carry on as she was then. she found o on earth and forced herself to regenerate - she already knew how, she'd done it before.
the master’s reaction was not because he doesn’t know what they are but because he does. and they're from a reality where he lost the doctor and it's more agonizing than this doctor could ever imagine. he can't say it out loud because he's sure his hearts will shatter.
meanwhile, the master never tells ruth who she really is - it’s too much for him to handle and he knows it would be much worse for her. ruth goes through her own adventures believing she's the doctor, has her own companions, and falls in love. she falls in love with Lee and gives him the tiny golden box when she tells him where she really came from. they decide to settle together on earth after they find out someone is after her. she becomes human while lee remembers.
they last a good while, too. before everything turns to shit. the person who is after her called the lone cyberman. she doesn't know why this person is after her, but her companion's just died at the hands of the jadoon, her childhood crush pointed a gun at her and died in the process, and ruth is very, very tired.
and what else is happening all this time? captain jack harkness had returned to the playing field a while back. he met a tall, dark, and handsome man named o who worked for mi6. they bond over their crush on the doctor, and the find out through the grapevine together that the doctor has returned to gallifrey and that someone named the lone cyberman is after the doctor. jack goes off to find the doctor on his own but doesnt take o with him because he's gotten attached to humans before and it never ends well. o doesn't seem to upset by this. jack then gets up to some hijinks but never manages to catch the doctor - mostly because he doesn't have his own damned tardis to get there fast enough.
through some good old fashioned spy sleuthing, jack finds out that the entity called the lone cyberman is looking for the doctor, claiming to be the doctor’s creator? parent? it gets lost in translation, but regardless, this is not good news.
he steals the scoop and heads back to earth when he finds out the doctor is home, which is weird because the timelines and tracking don't match up. then again, the clues never did, because every trail he picked up pointed him in two different directions, as if the doctor was in two places at once.
what he doesn't know was he was tracking two people as if they were one. he was tracking ruth and the doctor. the scoop had a hard time picking up the doctor on earth because, like the sonic screwdriver, its readings couldnt differentiate between the doctor and ruth. it's as if all recorded history was saying that ruth was the doctor, but thirteen was also there.
the lone cyberman, which is his reality's version of the doctor forced into becoming a version of the very creatures that he - as missy - had sworn to help the doctor fight against. this pocket dimension of theirs is a bastardized version of the tardis turned into a factory where the lone cyberman - the original kasaavin - creates imperfect versions of itself to send across time and space to do two things. as a cyberman, lone wishes to control and update the universe. but as the doctor, lone is looking for their child.
the cyber-side sees ruth as a weakness that must be either destroyed or turned. the doctor-side is looking for their family. lone sees the master as an ally. it trusted him before it became what it is, and they have similar goals. the master refuses to be made into one of them because it hurts too much but also fuck becoming a kasaavin. so what does the master plan on doing to get the final outcome? he allies with the kasaavin/lone cyberman with every intention of destroying them because he knows this is not what his doctor wanted - to be controlled and made into a weapon for the use of another - and he is willing to put them out of their misery. the kasaavin and the master find Barton because of o's time in mi6 and set their plan in motion. she doesn’t recagnize him because he’s not from her reality.
so that's it. everyone is lost and confused and hurt and they all just want some damn answers, but they can't get any because the only person who knows which way is up was stranded in the pocket dimension of the lone cyberman. the kasaavin is what it has come to call itself because a timelord chooses their own name, right? and it is not the master’s doctor any more.
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Okay, I’m in a mood and I just finished midnight sun, so I thought I’d put my current motivation to good use and hope it lasts. Let’s start with my opinions and thoughts on the characters of twilight. Part One; Bella Swan
Okay, but like, I actually love Bella Swan so I may be a bit biased but at the same time, I understand that she has flaws and I like to put my perspective on everything. For the most part she’s super unproblematic and her character (like all of the other characters) wasn’t done proper justice which is why I’m so glad that Tumblr has taken them into custody.
Honestly, though, Bella’s personality and characterization was on the fritz and complicated. She was entirely self-sufficient, a care-taker, chill, and ambitious. Like, sure, all she wanted to do was become a high school English teacher/college English professor and live in the sunnier places but man did she work at it. She had a whole ass plan that was derailed when she met and fell in love with Edward and found out about the supernatural. I’m gonna admit, really disappointed after I found this out and then realized she never discovered her dreams. Yeah, she made whole new dreams that she was really happy with and got a fulfilling life in the end but seeing Bella helping out a struggling writer or suggesting certain books to help with someone’s thesis would’ve been super cool.
But on the other hand, the books totally victimized her and made her into a damsel in distress. I know most of her problems were supernatural, scratch that all of her problems were supernatural, but she should’ve been given more power. Why make a heroine if she’s always hiding behind her love interests and never saves herself? Bella also drinks hella dumb bitch juice, which Edward had teasingly pointed out in the hospital after her tussle with James. (Really, it was one of the only things Edward said to her that wasn’t either hating on himself or saying something super shady (like insulting her intelligence or committing himself to her for life even though they’ve only been official for a day)) She will put herself into situations she might not come out of alive but cowers at the little things like needles and prom. Another example of her dumb bitch, self sacrificing, did-not-think-about-this-decision-nearly-as-long-as-I-should-have-so-now-I-have-to-work-with-what-I-got energy is her attempt to bare knuckle box and jujitsu her attempted rapists instead of screaming or running. Commendable bravery and determination, loses points for lack of brain cell use.
If it were me, I would’ve cut Edward off or at least made him work a lot harder than he did. She just let him off the hook whenever he did anything wrong for the sake of keeping him with her. Which makes a lot of sense actually. She’d never been a daughter really. She paid bills, she went grocery shopping, she took care of her house as well as her mother and herself. She’s never had someone take care of her or care for her in the romantical sense and in the giving sense. Most of the boys who liked her, were only attracted to her and wanted to know more about her to see if her interest matched their own. Not for the sake of getting to know her, understand her, but to see if she matched up to the pedestal they put her on. Edward didn’t do that, and I’m not saying their relationship was healthy because it wasn’t, but I can see and understand why Bella latched onto Edward so quickly even though it was super out of character from what we knew of her before their relationship.
Also, I really fucking hate how vulnerable Bella was in New Moon. Like, Edward left her in the fucking woods and she almost died. I would’ve been so angry, and she should’ve been considering that Bella had multiple moments in Twilight where she was displayed to have a temper and even sometimes considered violence against Edward when he pissed her off. She was broken, sitting around lazily and trying her damned hardest not to have a mental breakdown as to not worry her parents and friends anymore than she already had. Her self confidence was gone, she was already insecure, not believing herself good enough for the Cullens and Edward took advantage of that. He took advantage of the fact that no one had ever expressed romantic interest in her therefore she doesn’t have a fucking clue on how anything involving relationships are supposed to work. Bella was mature, Bella grew up too fast, Bella overestimated herself. And she was so emotionally stunted that instead of building up emotions, she held them down and decided to feel nothing. Then she met Edward and truly allowed herself to feel something. And it was too much, seventeen years of living as nothing more than an empathic caregiver took its toll on her and she felt everything at once and intensely. And when he left her, she felt that intensely too.
I don’t know why Stephanie Meyer wanted to further inforce that Bella was beautiful and desirable to the boy students and caused envy from the girl students, except for Angela. It was gross. Bella was so obviously heartbroken and vulnerable and emotionally unavailable but smeyer still had Mike ask her out multiple times and make Jacob’s crush on her grow, which was unfair. She thought multiple times that Jacob was family and made her feel like Bella again. He was a bright happy person with a good sense of humor and a sunny disposition and I felt like his feelings for Bella kinda put a hinder on a great character. Angela, Jacob, and Bella would’ve been an iconic trio of best friends and you can’t tell me otherwise. Bella, Alice, and Rosalie would’ve also been a great trio and that is a non-arguable fact. You cannot tell me that Rosalie would’ve held the same animosity towards Bella had she known what had happened to Bella in Port Angeles. Alice was already Bella’s best friend before they officially even met, so there’s that. P
I absolutely loathe the plot of Eclipse. The love triangle between Edward, Jacob, and Bella had never made any sense but then smeyer forced it even further and made it worse. That non-consensual kiss made me gag. That’s not Jacob’s character. Then Bella all of a sudden growing feelings for him made even less sense. Especially when it was so obvious that she was going to choose Edward over everything just as she always has. I loved the interaction between Bella and Jasper, though, and it has nothing to do with the fact that I ship them. It has more to do with the fact that this was the first unawkward conversation that they had ever had with one another. It wasn’t a exactly light discussion but it really pulled along how involved with every member of the Cullen family in some way. It was cool. The rest of the train wreak included Edward’s inane jealousy and even-creepier-than-usual behavior, the coercion into marriage and sex (because Bella didn’t respect Edward’s morals anymore than Edward respected hers) along with a pressured kiss between Jacob and Bella that was just bad. It ain’t a bad thing when someone doesn’t return your feelings. Jacob, honey, you’re perfect, just not for Bella (or Resume, smeyer). Then Bella and Edward begin planning their wedding, which makes no sense. Bella doesn’t want marriage, she’s against the institution of it. She’s already said that she loves Edward and wants to be with him forever regardless of how she does it. Why isn’t that enough for him? She doesn’t want to end high school with a marriage based on how her parents relationship ended.
Who else thought that Bella’s powers could’ve been cooler or that she shouldn’t have had powers at all? It’s too even. Two couples where neither have gifts and two couples where they both have gifts. It would’ve made more sense if she controlled possibilities or had a subtle way of making things go her way, like Siobhan from the Irish coven. She loved her privacy and separation from others and while that kinda back fired in a way- she was flocked around by others as soon as she walked into school -it also didn’t. For one, obviously Edward could t read her mind. Privacy and solitude from him at least. But at the same time, everyone was pretty much bending over backwards to be near her at all times. What if it was Bella’s subconscious ability acting up and making them want to give Bella whatever she wanted? Of course, since she was human, her abilities couldn’t have been working right, and instead of making people give her what she wanted, she made them have the inexplicable desire to give her what she wanted. And with Edward, he didn’t notice her lack of voice until he focused on her and couldn’t hear her inner voice. After she had set her sights on him. After she’d taken interest and her mind began to shape the reality around her to make her unmistakable and absolutely appealing to someone like Edward, someone who is perpetually bored and self loathing. By silencing her mind so he couldn’t read it and scenting her blood in a way that make it impossible for him to stay away. It’s just really suspicious how Bella never really has any problems that last more than a few days. Except for Edward leaving which-to her at least-was a huge problem. But she is human and doesn’t know that she even has powers so said powers are bound to fuck up somehow. Or maybe they didn’t, at least not intentionally. The beginning of New Moon featured Bella agonizing over her aging and the belief that Edward and the rest of the Cullens were all better than her. Her subconscious took that to mean that she didn’t want the Cullens around since they were unwittingly destroying Bella’s self-esteem which never really was that high to begin with. So the accident on her birthday never was an accident, it was Bella trying to protect herself because she does t know how to do anything else, she has no one to take care of and is being taken care of for the first time and doesn’t trust the feeling. Because we all know Jasper attacking her makes no sense. For one, he was a disciplined vampire army leader surrounded by bloodthirsty newborns, for another, he killed James with Bella lying in a pool of her own blood not three meters away from him, and lastly, he fucking drove her to the hospital in a hot car while she bled out. You cannot fucking tell me that Jasper just had a lapse in control, that the bloodlust of his family rendered him unable to resist. Nah, Bella just lost control of her powers that just so happened to be cooler than a shield. Because she learned how to master an ability that should’ve taken months and years to master in only a few months. The Volturi walked away and everyone except for Irina made it out alive, including the shapeshifters.
Anyway, in conclusion Bella is a BAMF who loses her brain cells over the course of two years.
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Serica | Reaction 4/4 | Ode to…
When: Second motive, when their surroundings were not these ephemeral islands but a quiet village. In the midst of suffocating fear, after she had committed to holing up in her room, before he had come to stay with her.
Where: On their mirrors. Due to aforementioned self-isolation.
Who: One conspiracy theorist, one nurse. Just friends, for now.
What:
( > seriously though i dont want to find you dead )
> then don’t go looking
( > how could i not? )
Why:
IX. Yamamoto, Deacon
Was it her fault, for trying to make concrete plans for the future?
( “Deacon Yamamoto, I will do everything in my power to make sure you and I can leave here, that I will find you and bring you home and we’ll spend days just sitting on the couch watching terrible sitcoms, riding on the subway gossiping about tourists, walking through the park hand in hand…“ )
No, that was stupid.
Serica may have been a woman who believed in more than the average person, trusted in platitudes and jinxes where others would scoff, but even in the midst of the unthinkable she was dimly aware this wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t his fault. It was…. someone else. Someone else’s fault.
A someone else who she needed to find. But, she found herself once again incapable of meaningfully investigating. Not this time for exaggerated pain and weakness, but of a pure inability to move forward both physically and psychologically.
She’s done this before. She had just forced herself to shallowly rationalize and pack away the deaths of Miles, Juniper, Tatsuya, Elise. One more couldn’t be bad. She was great at compartmentalization wasn’t she? She was able to laugh and have drinks hours after poisoning a man, she was able to pretend to be a victim when only half an hour before she had killed one Danny Ostergard with her two hands. If she approached this from a distance, with the veneer of a woman who had nothing to do with the dead man before her, with the objectivity of a woman who simply was trying to figure out what was going on… she could do this, right?
Let’s begin.
How does she even begin to explain Deacon Yamamoto?
(Ah… he’d probably like that reference, wouldn’t he?)
u/BoysBBUGS || u/aviary23
Head mod of Fanatical Ravings of the Disappeared, he(?) had a lot of theories that she didn’t necessarily subscribe to, but saw his contributions interesting to pick at. Ships passing through the night on the world wide web ocean.
IX. The Hermit || XI. Justice
A neighbor of a neighbor, though she hadn’t seen him around much. Does he keep to himself? Why the mask?
Cockroach & Serica
A riot of a man, able to make her laugh to hysterics at their first meeting. Supposedly 32 years old, supposedly unable to bath for fear of chemicals, supposedly with child with a man he had just met. Willing to have himself come off as incredibly unreasonable in public. Despite all this, clearly intelligent, clearly possessed a mind that had a voracious appetite for information and was wonderful to bounce theories on. An asset, despite it all.
( “I’m Serica by the way!” )
[…]
“They gave me the name Cockroach. Fucking COCKROACH Ser. What kinda joke is this shit?”
“I have a dumb fucking gift and Cockroach might as well be my real name since I doubt I’ll ever hear my original one ever again.”
Roach & Riccy
Slippery in every way, but not so unreasonable as he seemed. Logic was a great way to combat him, and any answer often had to be weaseled with either heavy theorizing (her specialty) or with a tango with some off the cuff roleplaying (decidedly not her specialty). She wouldn’t be so cocky to say that he changed his habits for her but… she thinks she had a hand in convincing him. He really wasn’t so bad, if you gave him a chance, and he’d surprised her more than once with acts of care and thoughtfulness.
Dee & ██
A friend for sure, and one who seemed to have a genuine loyalty. No qualms at seeing her drop a stun gun in front of him, no reservations when she admitted tentatively that she slept with a knife, no judgements when she casually brought up murder once more. Morals in the traditional sense didn’t seem to shackle him, which was very convenient to incorporating him into her tentative plans. 26, not 32. A New Yorker, as well though rather than any borough, his car was his home. Given his life he had become a stranger to hugs, to positive affection, but once he had a taste he was hungry for more. For all his mock lovers and public swooning, he was dense to actual subtle flirting.
( “My middle name. Aka, no risk of harming me if a faelien hears it. ██.” )
“I don’t have a middle name. I’d tell you if I did, swear. You can call me Dee though. It’s a part of my first name and you already know the first letter of it when I fucked up that one time. So Dee is a pretty good substitute then, yeah?”
Deacon & ███
Incredibly cute. A true newcomer to being hit on, to being told he’s handsome, to being kissed, to being in a relationship. A strong backbone even as she herself wavered in the days leading up to the decisive moment. Determined, stating possibilities as if they were facts and refusing to acknowledge her agonizing over the worst case scenario. Through everything, an unwavering support, a hand on her back, a shoulder to lean on. A good singer of lullabies, in her opinion.
( “███. My name is ███.” )
“Deacon.”
Deacon Yamamoto & ███ ██ █
Did not hold himself in the same concern he showed her. Makes a fuss in the public chat about the wrongs done to him but brushes off the severity when questioned by his own girlfriend. Still a liar, still a master of faking a smile.
( “I won’t remember much but i’ll know your name, your, that you helped me so much in escaping that, that you mean the World to me–” she’s just babbling “I probably will believe myself if, if I actually try to find your information or maybe your drivers license– maybe if I put you in as a missing person or– But oh no will you believe me? What if I just show up at your car and you just think I’m a scam artist or–” )
“My license plate is HGO789. Deacon Yamamoto. I’ll believe you. I’ll always believe you.”
( “…█. My last name is… █.” )
███ ██ █
There once was a man upon whom was foisted a change. Upon his rise to a breathing dream, he was stripped of his taste and stripped of subsequent limits. Immune not only to the aches of poison but the salve of saccharin, the burn of capsaicin. To match with his steel stomach was his mercurial tongue, not gifted but cultivated carefully. Silvery and poisonous with every other word, it was at the command of a mind that paralleled in fluidity. It was as if he was a maestro, and his instrument of choice was a dictionary, phrases and scenarios slung with such rapidity that all who listened were on guard for constant whiplash.
So, it meant something when words became actions.
Anyone can say anything. He especially was able to say anything, a master class perjurer of the highest degree. The sun was about to peek through the sky at any moment, he was a Staten Island woman in an unhappy marriage trying to hook up her hair dresser with her son, he was fine, he was going to be okay, he was going to get out of here–
…
There is a difference, between telling someone that you will take consideration for the situation, and spending precious currency to fit yourself with a weapon.
There is a difference, between telling someone that you will help them, protect them, and taking the extra mile to pull down the mattress of a woman who’s waking hell of a gift would not let her climb up the steps otherwise.
There is a difference, between telling someone that you want them to live and helping them plan and execute the death of another person.
There is a difference, between telling someone that you want to live and…
…
(She was failing miserably in this task).
…
No one who looked at his body, at the stagnant ichor dripping out of his head, could understand the potential for warmth like she would. His fingers combing through her hair, pulling out loose tangles and tucking locks behind her ear so she could look at him unfettered. A grin, not sharp and pulled taught, but gently reassuring, murmuring soothing phrases to ease her anxious hands. Irises, bright not with the promise of information to unravel but with unbridled emotion that made his eyes crinkle, a devoted gaze meant for one.
One person, who stood here alone.
“And it’s not like I need it, yanno? I kinda wasted my life away before all of this. Not sure if I want it back.”
"I won’t die. Not yet at least. I have some things that need getting done."
“I mean I’m not gonna let myself die after I break a leg like some racehorse. I wanna be useful, not a damn trigger happy martyr. ” He had snorted. “I’ll still make a valiant effort to get out of here Rics. But if it comes down to me and you? Well.” He had shrugged. “As a consolation prize I will say, you do make me wanna become someone worth living again.”
"I was impliiiied my dear, of course I’m making it out of here with you. What would the point be otherwise. I was trying to make it seem all badass and broody, adding a technicality to it all would’ve been underwhelming.”
“You’re going to be stuck with me until the end of times.”
“You’re getting out of- we’re getting out of here. You were wonderful.”
“Yes I know. I will. I’m going to get out. With you.”
“Of course, █. We can live a life worth living together out there.”
“It’s going to be alright █.”
“I love you █, please. Trust me, things are gonna be fine.”
“One day at a time.”
One day at a time, she had repeated.
One day at a time, she repeats, staring at his face, flesh frozen in the way that only a cadaver could. She’d never forget the first time she had touched a dead body, and was forced to confront the jarring dissonance, the coldness, the stiffness, the pallor of the skin that had been warm, soft, pliable, just hours before. Only a child, forced to confront the concept of lives ending for the first time. Since then she had seen more than her fair share, from work, from this place, before her very eyes.
Joints creak and echo through her body as she moves, finally. To fold her knees under herself, sit at his side, hand hovering indefinitely, torn between not having to face that final moment of confirmation and wanting to just hold him once more. Before she would have to be torn from him for hours, before they returned from a useless trial and his body would be gone, before she’d have to trudge to their caravan, who’s emptiness would threaten to collapse on her.
“There is nothing worse than not knowing.”
( “No, there’s nothing worse than not living.” )
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Time Lost (Rewrite) Ch 2
Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Reader
Summary: An accident during a mission sends you back in time to the second world war. There you enlist the help of Peggy Carter, Steve Rogers, and Bucky Barnes to find the object that can send her back.
Warnings: Alcohol, Drinking, Implied sexual harassment, Face punching.
Word count: 2.8k
A/N: This is a rewrite of an OC fic that I have been writing and been wanting to turn into a reader Fic. Im unsure if I will be continuing the OC fic currently, I may just transfer it completely to my reader Fic. Currently 6 chapters are up of the OC fic, and I shall be posting a rewritten chapter every few days on here.
Masterlist
Prologue Ch 1
Being back in London was almost nostalgic to you now. It felt like so long ago that you took your first trip down the elevator to the SSR base. You looked over the maps Steve drew looking for any hint of where the bell might be. Everyone else’s focus may have been on wiping out hydra, but you wanted to go home. Living through the ’40s might be good fun, but you had no intention of living through the ’50s.
You sighed, sitting back in your chair. Your notes and documents had led you to Paris, so logically, it would be best to try the French hydra base first. But your gut said it should be somewhere more defendable, pointing towards a German base. Especially after Steve took down the facility in Austria. You knew that they were going to take down every base, history told you that, so it didn't truly matter. but damn it, you wanted progress on the Bell.
Peggy watched you agonize over the documents for the umpteenth time. The way you threw yourself into your work always worried Peggy. You were rash and quick to act, and combining that with your tendency towards workaholism, you were either going to work yourself sick, or get yourself killed. Or both. You worked like you were running out of time. Only Col. Phillips seemed to have any power to slow you down. “Well?” Peggy finally broke the silence.
“Logically, France is out best bet. I could have myself planted into that town in a week. But if the Captain’s team is going to be shipped out any time soon, then I should be sent to Germany, they’ll probably take down the French and Italian bases before I’m even able to get settled.” You said, poking at the map.
Peggy crossed her arms, “Captain Rogers’ team won't be shipped out for a few months yet.”
You looked up at Peggy, “What?”
“They need to be trained before we send them anywhere,” Peggy said, looking over the maps and documents on your desk.
You shook your head, brows knitted together. “What the hell do you mean they need to be trained? I thought Phillips was sending his best.”
“The Captian requested that he choose his men himself.”
You blinked at Peggy dumbly as the words sank in. “You have got to be fucking kidding me.” You stood up, chair screeching behind you, and stormed off to find Col. Phillips. “We don't have fucking time for this.” You growled to yourself as you pushed various SSR agents out of your way. It would take at least two months to train new agents, soldiers, commandoes, whatever the hell they were intending to call themselves. Ant that wasn't even accounting for any mishaps that might happen during training. Officers moved out of your way as you charged up to Phillips. “Colonel Phillips.”
“Agent Taylor, I was wondering when you would be gracing me with your presence,” Phillips said sardonically.
“You can't be serious about making a team of completely untrained personnel.” You huffed, stopping in front of him.
“I am absolutely serious Agent Taylor. You,” He pointed at you, “Don’t get to question that.”
“It will take months. We’ll be wasting time!” You argued, gesturing wildly with your hands.
“Then I suppose you should be doing everything in your power to ensure their training goes as smoothly as possible.” He countered, handing a folder to a secretary and walking away.
You stared at him wide-eyed for a moment before chasing after him. “What the hell do you mean by that?”
Phillips stopped abruptly and turned to face you. “What I mean is, you are in charge of their training. Congratulations Agent Taylor, you ship out to Scotland with them first thing Monday.”
You scowled, “I'm a spy, not a soldier. I should be working on worming my way into one of the hydra bases to-”
“That’s exactly why I’m assigning you to their training.” Phillips interrupted. “You understand what they are getting themselves into. And as much as I hate to admit it, you get results. Until further notice, you are to join and aid Captain Rogers’ commandoes.” He finished, mumbling “And maybe, it will keep you out of trouble.” as he left, leaving you at a loss for words.
You growled, stomping back to your desk where Peggy was waiting. No doubt she already knew the Colonel’s decision. “Are you done stomping around like a child?”
“Absolutely not!” You threw yourself into your chair, nearly tipping it. “Fuck!” You said as you steadied yourself. You took a deep breath, burying your face in your hands. “How the hell am I supposed to make sure these men are ready to storm hydra bases? I’ve never stormed a hydra base in my life Peg.”
Peggy leaned against your desk. “That's never stopped you in the past. Why is it stopping you now?”
You gapped for a moment. “I've only had to worry about myself in the past. Maybe one other person. Not an entire team of people.”
“Well now you do,” Peggy said. “Are you going to manage? Or are you just going to give up?”
“Give up?” You sneered at the idea. “Of course I’m not going to give up. Too many lives are at stake if they aren’t prepared.”
Peggy smiled at you, “Well then, what do you intend to do?”
You sighed, “I intend to get a drink.” You rubbed your temples. Peggy was right, Peggy was always bloody right. You were beginning to wonder if you were the one from the future, or if Peggy was. “I should also have Steve introduce me to his guys.”
Peggy stood up, smoothing out her red dress. “Well, you could kill two birds with one stone.” You looked up at her with an eyebrow raised. “I need to let Captain Rogers know that Howard needs him in the lab tomorrow morning. So I was going to go looking for him in the pub. If you would like to join me.”
You smirked, “I was wondering why you were all dressed up.”
Bucky sat at the bar waiting for Steve to return. He sighed as he took in the sounds of the bar, he needed this. After going through that hell, being tortured, feeling like he was going to lose his damn mind, he needed this leave more than anything. Hell, the entire 107th needed it. He sure as hell didn't want to go back any time soon either.
But he knew better. He knew Steve needed him. He knew that even with that serum making his best friend into a super-soldier, Steve was still that bull-headed idiot ready to jump into any fight. Steve needed his help, his strength, and Bucky was damned if he was going to let Steve down. So, as much as he didn't want to go back, he knew he had to.
Bucky smiled as Steve appeared through the bar room’s doors, the look on his face telling Bucky all he needed to know. “See?” Bucky said. “Told you, they're all idiots.” He sipped his drink as Steve sat down. They were all idiots, and at this point, Bucky was sure that he and Steve were the biggest idiots of all.
“How 'bout you? You ready to follow Captain America into the jaws of death?” A slight smile played on Steve’s lips as he asked.
“Hell no,” Bucky said, voice tired. “That little guy from Brooklyn that was too dumb not to run from a fight, I’m following him.” He looked at Steve and smiled before taking another drink and adding, “But you're keeping the outfit right?”
Steve turned and looked back at the Captain America tour poster, Bucky was never going to let him live this down. “You know what? It's kinda growing on me.”
The singing in the other room stopped, causing the pair to more to investigate as a woman in a red dress walked into the room. “Captain.” She said. Bucky looked her up and down as she walked up to Steve, he would be a liar if he said she wasn’t beautiful.
“Agent Carter.” Steve greeted and Bucky nodded a hello to her.
“Howard has some equipment for you to try. Tomorrow morning?” She said.
Steve nodded, “Sounds good.”
There was a moment of awkward silence before she spoke again. “I see your top squad is prepping for duty.”
Her comment bothered Bucky slightly, were they not allowed to enjoy themselves? “You don't like music?” He asked.
“I do, actually. I might, even, when this is all over, go dancing.” She answered, focusing solely on Steve.
“Then what are we waiting for?” Bucky said, mildly annoyed at her refusal to even look at him.
“The right partner.” She smiled at Steve, “0800, Captain.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll be there.” He nodded as she left.
Bucky huffed in shock at her rejection. “I’m invisible. I’m… I’m turning into you. It’s like some horrible dream.”
Steve chuckled, clapping Bucky on the shoulder. “Don’t take it too hard, I hear she’s got a friend.”
As if on cue, a loud crash came from the other room. All music and singing stopped as a woman's voice yelled, “Touch me again and you’ll get more than a broken nose asshole!” The two men rushed into the room to find a woman in an SSR uniform standing over a soldier bleeding profusely from the face. From the looks of it, you did indeed manage to break his nose. You tucked a bit of disheveled hair behind your ear and straightened your coat with a huff.
You were the woman with the beautiful smile Bucky had seen when he first got back to the camp he realized. He didn't know you had gone on leave with the 107th. “That is Agent Carter’s friend,” Steve whispered in Bucky’s ear. He couldn't help but laugh. Yes, of course, the one that just broke a man’s nose was Agent Carter’s friend. At the very least, he was impressed. It wasn't every day that you meet a woman that knows how to break a man’s nose.
Hearing his laughter, you turned to look at them as the man scrambled away in shame. “Captain Rogers.” Unlike Agent Carter, You didn’t seem happy to see him. “I was hoping to be able to finish my drink before I found you.” You picked a glass up off the bar and downed it.
Steve scoffed and crossed his arms. “Is everything alright Agent Taylor?”
“Besides being groped by drunk soldiers that don't know the meaning of ‘leave me alone’?” You glanced back at the two soldiers nearest to you. The men paled noticeably and took a step back. Bucky frowned at them, who paled even further when they noticed his glare, they knew Bucky wasn't going to let them get away with that. They were going to wish they had walked away with broken noses. “No, Actually, I’m here to meet your team.” You sighed, clearly not wanting to be there.
Steve looked at you for a moment before nodding, “This is Sergeant James Barnes” He said, gesturing to Bucky. You smiled at him in a way that made Bucky wonder if you recognized him from Italy. “He’s my-”
“Best friend?” You asked, an eyebrow raised and a playful smile on your lips. “I assumed as much considering I was nearly court-martialed trying to help you save him. Or, were you going to say second in command?” You teased as you held your hand out to him. “I’m Agent Y/N L/N.” He smiled as he shook your hand, you certainly weren't afraid to speak your mind. “Who are the others?” You asked, suddenly more serious.
Steve gestured towards the table of men nearest to the trio, eyeing them cautiously. Or more specifically, they were eyeing you cautiously. You took a deep breath and mumbled something Bucky couldn't hear before approaching the table. “Hello men,” You said as you sat down with them.
Steve and Bucky followed you but remained standing. The other men grunted hellos before Steve spoke up. “With all due respect Agent Taylor. What is this all about?”
You sighed, leaning back in your chair. “Col. Phillips, in his infinite wisdom, decided to place me in charge of ensuring your men are properly prepared and trained to take down hydra.” You couldn’t sound more sarcastic if you tried.
“Phillips is sending his secretaries to train us?” Dum Dum gruffed, clearly unsure of what to make of the situation.
“Spy, actually.” Falsworth corrected before you could. “Though, I thought you were with MI6”
You looked at Falsworth for a moment before recognition bloomed on your face. “You're that paratrooper I helped in Russia.” You shook your finger at him, “Falsworth, wasn't it?”
“Its good to see you again Agent Taylor. I never did get to thank you for saving my hide.” He nodded, raising his glass to you. You nodded in response.
Bucky grabbed the back of a chair, looking at you incredulously, “You don’t seem to be particularly enthused about this.” You looked up at him, and he swore he saw the ghost of a smile flash on your lips before you glanced away.
“You're absolutely right.” You said. “If I had my way, I would be halfway to fucking Germany right now.” Bucky’s lip curled upward, that was the second time he heard you curse, you really didn't give a damn what any of them though, did you?
“It’s not very ladylike to swear like that you know.” Dum Dum said, a twinkle in his eye as he took a drink of his stout.
You looked taken aback at his comment. Your eyebrow quirked upward as you nodded your head. “My apologies.” You said, “I didn't realize I was supposed to conform myself to your ideals of a lady. I’ll be sure to do that when I remember to give a damn.”
The table was silent for a beat before bursting into laughter. “Alright,” Dum Dum said, wiping tears from his eyes. “You've made a fair point there.”
“I’m glad,” You said, “I already went over my daily allowance of broken noses.”
“You know Doll if more dames could punch like that, we might have already won the war,” Bucky said, finally sitting down.
You looked at him, scoffing slightly, “Well, Sergeant Barnes, That's something you should take up with your superiors. I know plenty of nurses that would have rathered guns over bandages.”
“I’ll be sure to get right on that,” He said. He liked your attitude, your willingness to speak your mind, and your wit. “And you can call me Bucky. Everyone else here does.”
You smiled that smile Bucky was already starting to like a bit too much. “I think you’ll find that I don’t do things just because everyone else does, Sarge.” Bucky was left speechless as the men around him laughed. He had honest to god, no damn clue how to respond to that.
Steve laughed at his friend’s silence. “You may just be the first woman that managed to make Buck speechless.” He said. Bucky’s cheeks warmed and he elbowed Steve in the side.
You laughed, it was a nice laugh almost giggly, “If that’s all it takes then you must not talk to many girls.”
Bucky feigned offense, “I’ll have you know, Brooklyn’s gals were heartbroken when I was shipped out.”
You hummed, unconvinced, “Guess you must talk and never listen then.”
“I’m listenin’ to ya now, ain’t I Doll?” He shot back.
“There's a first for everything.” You grinned.
“Doll, I’m starting to think you're tryin’ to hurt my feelings.”
You gasped, placing a hand on your chest, “Me? Never.” You looked over the men once more before drumming your hands on the table. “As much fun as I’m having boys, I still have work to do. I also regret to inform you all, that your leave ends Monday. You are all expected to be on the train to Inverness at 0600 Monday morning.” The men groaned.
“You're killin’ us!” Morita said, “We only just got here. We need a break!”
“Sucks for you.” You said with a shrug. “I haven't had a break in two years, I’m sure you’ll survive.” You stood up with a stretch. “I’ll see you all on the train. Cap.” You nodded to Steve, then gave Bucky a mischevious smile, “Sergeant Barnes.” You said with a casual salute.
Bucky watched you intently as you left. He found himself far more excited about the end of leave than he was just a few hours ago. Steve grabbing his shoulder pulled Bucky’s attention away from you. “And you said you were turning into me.”
Bucky rolled his eyes as the men teased him, “Yeah yeah. Laugh it up. We’ll see how much you assholes are laughing on the train at six in the morning.”
“Whatever you say, Sergeant Barnes.” Dum Dum teased, downing the last of his pint.
Time lost Taglist (If you want to be added, ask. if you don’t see your name here, I probably tagged you in the OC version)
@henderwhore4life
#bucky x reader#bucky#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#bucky x you#bucky x y/n#marvel fic#avengers x reader#marvel x reader#avengers fanfiction#avengers#marvel
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Chapters: 53/?
Fandom: Dragon Ball
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Summary:
With Earth destroyed, Bulma and the Z gang find themselves in an outer space guerilla war against a tyrant. The mysterious Vengeance seems to be the only hope to win the war against Frieza, but teaming up with him brings its own set of problems.
AU, ensemble cast but with focus on BV. Several other pairings (m/F and m/m) and non-romantic relationships get significant screen time.
While Vengeance often appears to be a light-hearted, funny story, there are darker elements running through several storylines. Warnings of non-con are for isolated incidents and don't reflect the story as a whole, but explicit descriptions of sex, violence, and general depravity are contained within these chapters.
Of all the Vegebul fics I have read, this one is easily my favorite. It has nuance, gives (almost) every character full and rich motivations and story lines. You find yourself rooting for the oddest pairs and weirdest people. I can not recommend this story enough, and if you wanna read my thoughts on it, lets dive into spoilers below the cut!
So this story has something for everyone. You want thick well thought out and executed plot? DONE! Humor? DONE! Large cast of characters, both canon and OC who are all pretty well flushed out? DONE! Smut? Name your poison, chances are, its in here. There is so much about this story that I love that I am struggling with exactly the best way to organize my thoughts. So instead of agonizing over it, instead I am just gonna throw away all my careful notes that I have taken during my read and just freaking ramble!
I think the first thing that people are a little put off on is the rare pair of RaditzXPuar. I will tell you that I 5,000 percent ship these two and it is all because of reading this fic. I love it so much that I MAY have even taken some time to draw my own fan art for the pair, but lets just leave THAT in the vaults xD When Raditz first encounters Puar, he is NOT a cat. Puar is in a Human form and is shifted to be Bulma. Raditz immediately is attracted to Puar’s scent and when they later encounter each other in a bar and end up ( ͡ᵔ ͜ʖ ͡ᵔ ) Ray is still just enamored by Puar’s scent. Whenever we see Rays POV in-between the time that Ray has fucked Human Puar, and the time that Puar is discovered, Ray keeps catching scents of the cat. And it drives him fucking wild. He later says that he is so crazy for Puar that he was about to fuck a houseplant cause it reminded him of Puar. Beyond that we get the backstory on Bonding and that basically Saiyans bond to a mate kinda at random so Ray has basically taken Puar as his husband. Raditz is really a great lover, there is a relationship imbalance between the two, but Ray doesnt take advantage of it. Its really a pretty healthy relationship. Puar gets jealous of some stuff, Ray gets WAY jealous of stuff but they always seem to talk it over. Shit at one point Ray dreams of having kids with Puar, and he is swiftly reminded that Puar is a MAN and will never be and never wants to be a WOMAN.
A huge part of me feels like this Puarditz pairing is commentary on identity, self acceptance and love. Ray is constantly telling Puar that he doesnt care what his body looks like (except that he is excited to see Puar has a tail), only that it is Puar that he is in love with. It is only Puar Ray wants, no matter if he is a human, cat, plant, screwdriver or anything else. Puar talks about how he feels weird in his cat body, but it is his natural form and he wants to change and be bigger, more menacing, or just different. And I think we can all appreciate that sentiment at some point in our lives, but I can also see this as a low key message about trans acceptance and its fucking beautiful. Hell even Bulma tells Puar that he should take whatever form he is most comfortable in and basically fuck everyone who disagrees. I love that message and I love this pair - fight me.
I really want to talk about another pretty complex character in this fic, Zarbon. He struggles with so much shame and negativity in this story. He hides behind his good looks and his hair, and when that shit gets cut off, Zarbon is a completely different man, it is shedding his old evil skin and literally growing into his own as a new man, a better person, and you start to care about him. His time with Frieza has basically ruined his ability to have any sort of healthy relationship - friend or other, because he resorts to sex for just about any close relationship he has. The FIRST person he meets after being rescued from Frieza, he starts bedding. Hell he promises a pity fuck to Burter for rescuing him, and come on.. I have never wanted a Burger sex scene more than when I was reading this fic. No really... Catgirl has a way of making you root for just about everyone... I think that besides the slavers, the only character I HATE is Frieza, and thats pretty cool. AND Speaking of Frieza, shit hes a bad dude in this story. There aren't many POVs of him, and we see a lot of Frieza through Zarbon, Vegeta and Burter, but the POVs after Zarbon escapes and Frieza is trying to replace him is she fucked up shit. You really see his madness when he is sitting in the bloody tub stroking the hair of the dead attendant wishing it was Zarbons. He repeatedly states how much he gave to Zarbon, and how he basically loved him, but then you see him torture the poor man, sexually assault him, and generally just be a complete tyrannical asshole to him.
The way the Nameks are handled is really cool. I love the nod to canon with them living with the Briefs on Red Station, I love watching Dende figure out how to lead, and struggle with his followers. I love how he makes the decision to room with Gohan as a way of bridging the gap between the Namekians and the Saiyans. The decisions Dende makes shows that he is dedicated to moving forward and not being stuck in the past. But you see him still struggling with things in the past, Zarbon for example. it is hella tense for a while when he first comes aboard because Dende feels Zarbon is responsible for the demise of his people, and Dende seeks out others help and advice on how to manage his feelings. He gets several peoples views and chooses what he thinks is the best, just like a good leader would. He even attempts to make Piccolo feel more welcome in the Namekian contingent of beings on Red Station.
Nappa is a super important character for the beginning of the story. He is the voice of Saiyan past and he advises Vegeta, wether he takes the advice or not. Overall he is the Father figure Vegeta needs (a common role for him) but he tells Vegeta and Raditz about bonding and Gohan comments that it sounds like LOVE. Nappa has some really shitty moments with Bulma, but overall I really like the sweet peeks into his head, when he thinks about his dead wife and babies, or when he tears up about the thought of Bulma and Vegeta having “little princes” of their own, is just heartwarming. And the attraction to Momma Briefs is cute and funny and provides so much ammunition for Bulma to hate Nappa (and boy do they hate each other)
I kinda hate how K18 gets treated in this story, and part of that is how long it takes for 18 to come about, and another part of that is the fact that the story isn't finished. I feel like 18′s android qualities are REALLY played up, which isn't a bad thing - great characterization in fact... but poor Krillin deserves so much better than being mounted with no foreplay and then immediately being engaged... Now I will say that I really like both of these characters in this fic, just wish things were finished cause their relationship has so much more to explore.
I have both love and hate the Vegebul relationship dynamics in this story. They obviously care for one another, but the relationship seems super unhealthy... there is really no talking, relationship building going on in story. a LOT of fucking sure, but it almost feels like these two banter, fuck but don't really know one another.. and thats kinda sad.. I like that part of a Vegebul fic. Bulma is legit scared of Vegeta on multiple occasions and even in the last published chapter Vegeta looks at her and thinks that she is a monster just like him. And hell with her improvements to the Ki Circlet, she probably is. I will say that their smut is A++ fantastic, it is real, sometimes it is awkward (when they fuck in her lab it is both hot and funny) and there is always a mention of safe sex.
With all the time spent on, pretty much everyone, including 2 OCs, it is sad that 17, Dr. Briefs and Tien don't get a little more love. They have very very brief scenes peppered throughout the story, and they just seem like after thoughts.. Shit Roshi and Oolong have more impact on the story than any of these three do and thats just a bummer. I am gonna say that maybe they have parts in the unwritten bots of the fic, but who knows if it will ever be updated, much less finished at this point.
This story is fantastic. I can not recommend it enough. The relationship dynamics alone are fantastic, never mind the fact that Catgirl is FUCKING FANTASTIC at showing not telling, but even when she tells it is impactful. She has a wonderful grasp of character voice and each POV feels like it is actually that characters POV, told through them, not through the lens of a narrator. There are some amazing quotes in this story, some are just funny,
Others.. Not so much....
These are a bunch of misfits thrown together, fighting to survive, and ultimately building a home. Hell Zarbon sees it and is shocked by it.. He says he is amazed by Vegeta “Floating around this country cottage of a ship, lord and master of an assortment of weaklings.” And Zarbon is right. Vegeta is the lord and master of this rag tag crew, and Bulma is their Queen. Their relationship is the glue that holds this little family together. This story is a tale of their struggle to defeat Frieza, but thats not what this story is ABOUT. This story is about, family, friends, love, home and ultimately all the wholesome things humanity has to offer. Sometimes we fuck up, and fight and create drama, but we persevere through those trials and (hopefully) become stronger, more well rounded and more human. And that is a really nice message.
As a bonus, @rutbisbe drew this amazing Puar/Raditz fan art for this fic and I love it (AND I LOVE THEM SO MUCH)
If you liked this review, after you check this fic out, head over to my A03 and read some of my stuff!
#BTM Fic Review#vengeance#Vegeta x Bulma#go read this freaking fic#its my absolute favorite#I really need an update#PLZ catgirl
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