#because people probably assume you just do it like that
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coworker James au could i request kne where maybe reader starts her period at work unprepared and bleeds through so James gives her his jumper and she's like wtf but also thank you <33
James worries about you reluctantly until you need his help. Then he’s less begrudging. fem, 1k
“Why are you wearing that?”
James digs through the office fridge for his oat milk. “What’s wrong with it?”
“I’m just wondering.”
“It's cold out. People wear jumpers when it’s cold.” James grabs the oat milk from the deep recesses of the shared fridge and lets his tricep flex as he stands. Does he think you’ll care? No. But he does it anyway, he doesn’t work out for nothing. You probably can’t tell with the jumper, anyhow.
He’s expecting you to wrinkle your nose or fake a keck. You look at him funny.
“What’s wrong? You’re poorly,” he says.
“I’m not poorly, I just want some toast.”
“There’s no butter,” James says. No point letting you wait by the fridge.
You nod dispassionately. “Well, that makes sense.”
“I have a tangerine in my bag.”
“Okay, thank you.”
You’re definitely poorly. You wander out of the kitchen, James assumes to sit back down at your desk while he makes his coffee. He could make you a cup at the same time, it might help you pep up for the rest of the day, but he hasn’t made you any before and why should he start now? Everyone gets sick, it doesn’t make you less of a dick.
Even as he thinks it, he realises what he’s doing. James Denial Potter, what use is it anymore, pretending he doesn’t like you? You piss him off royally, but disdain? It’s like everyday you’re getting prettier and sweeter and softer in the eyes and James just has to watch.
He takes his mug to his desk. You’ve already posed his little Smiski figurines to be standing next to each other, though now you’re nowhere near his desk, instead having flopped toward the left side far from his reach with your face in your hand.
He sighs and grabs his back. The tangerine lays at the bottom near his lunch box, and it begs to be kept, but you’re looking too sick to ignore. It’s cruel to leave you without, at this point. “Here,” he says, popping the orange on the border of your two desks. “Quick, before you pass out.”
“Thank you,” you mumble.
It’s sad to watch you eat the orange. Your chewing is morose, your eyes tracking up and down your screen with little hurry.
He cracks too quickly. “You okay?” he asks.
“I’m fine.”
“Do you want a cup of water?”
“James. I’m fine, I’m just tired.”
You stand and stretch with a sad moan, joints popping audibly, your arm over your eyes as they do. You let it fall and begin to walk away from the desk nook toward the bathroom, and that’s when James notices your accident.
He jumps up from his seat, his hand held forward and trying to catch you before you can get too far away. He takes your hand, to your confusion, pulling you back toward him.
“James, I’m fine,” you say, clearly shy.
“You’ve bled through.”
Your face fills with palpable, horrified mortification. “What?”
“The seat of your trousers,” he says quietly. James can’t confess to caring about discretion when it comes to human function, but he doesn’t think you’d enjoy your private business being shouted across the office. “It’s not a lot.”
You freeze.
He lets your hand fall.
“It’s okay,” he says, frowning at your embarrassed pouting and the glossy shine that’s formed over your eyes.
“I don’t know what to do,” you confess under your breath.
It’s so stupid because it’s not vulnerable, you aren’t some wounded animal that needs his help, but he has that awful aching sorriness for you that he can’t bite back. You’re not his friend and he’s sympathetic anyways, he’d never let you feel embarrassed over something you can’t help because he knows exactly how it feels (even if your particular affliction isn’t one he suffers). James nods at you decidedly and leans forward, grabbing the neck of his jumper and pulling it off quickly.
“Here,” he says, his hair tickling his ears as it falls back into place. He offers the jumper. You don’t take it.
“James, I might…”
“No, it’s okay. It’s fine. Just take it and I’ll see if I can sort something out. I’ll get Lily for you. What do you think?”
“Are you sure?” you ask.
“Of course I’m sure. Tie that around your waist, yeah?”
You take the jumper from his hands. “I’m really sorry.”
“Sorry? It’s fine, it happens.”
“You don’t even like me and you’re always doing things for me,” you say, wobbly.
James blames the hormones he thinks you might have ravaging your system right now. You’re tired, you clearly didn’t eat enough at breakfast, and you’re on your cycle. It’s not a nice mix of things to experience, and to pile some public humiliation on at work must make crying inevitable.
He takes your elbow into his hand, bending just so to put your faces on better level. “We don’t always get along,” he says softly, “but that doesn’t mean you have to do things by yourself, without anyone to look out for you. Okay? This isn’t a big deal to me.” He gives your elbow a mild shake. “Okay?” he asks again.
You sniffle but don’t cry. “Yeah, okay.”
“Okay. Don’t worry, angel. Those trousers were a choice anyway.”
You wave him away with a weak laugh.
James walks one way in search of HR and you slink to the bathroom with his jumper around your waist. And Remus, who’s gaze had been summoned by the rapid departure of you both at the same time, sits gobsmacked at his desk. James had looked not even a millisecond from kissing the frown from your lips, his thumb pressed with tender care to your arm, and you’d just let him do it, the rigid set of your shoulders relaxing the longer he touched you.
Remus takes his phone from his pocket to text Sirius. Need to talk to you about James
What’s he done?
Remus sort of thinks his friend might be falling in love. It’s gonna be a total disaster.
#james potter#james potter x reader#james potter x fem!reader#james potter x y/n#james potter x you#james potter fic#james potter fluff#james potter blurb#james potter drabble#james potter imagine#james potter fanfic#james potter fanfiction#james potter scenario#james potter oneshot#the marauders#marauders era#marauders
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MOTH TO A FLAME — DICK GRAYSON X JOURNALIST!READER
3.3k words | divider by @cafekitsune | requests open !
summary: your relationship with dick grayson was history two years ago. as of yesterday, you were (not so) happily engaged to another man, and your relationship with him was swoon-worthy, but it seems like it could crumble like a house of cards. so when your perfect ex comes back into your life for help on a case, will you go back to him like a moth to a flame?
you’re just a moth to a flame.
you were engaged. you knew this, this wasn’t new fucking information, and you were supposed to feel elated, on top of the world, like you were on cloud nine or some other shit people in love said—wait, no. you were in love with your fiancé, or at least you tried to be. he was sweet, and he looked good, with his fluffy blonde hair, deep brown eyes, and lean figure. nerd hot. just your type, but why did it seem like as every day went on, you kept trying to convince yourself that this was what you wanted?
you stretched your arms before lugging yourself out of bed, grabbing your phone to check your messages, which you assumed were the reason that your phone was buzzing so much that it was about to fall off your dresser.
PHOTOS NOTIFICATION: november, 2021, AMUSEMENT MILE THEME PARK. do you want to share this memory with DICKIEBIRD 💙?
you pressed your mouth into a line, reminiscing. that was probably the best time you’d ever had in your entire life. you, dick, wally and artemis, eating cotton candy and popcorn at an amusement park.
“one more bite of food and you’re going into carnival crime territory, wally,” you sing, your voice carrying its signature teasing lilt. “then i’m going to win, and you’ll have to pay for everything.”
“just make your stupid boyfriend pay, he’s the billionaire!” wally's disgruntled groan came from a foot behind you, were he was still struggling on his second milkshake. sucker.
dick threw an arm around your shoulder, spreading a hint of warmth over your torso. he was, as you liked to call him, your personal space heater. “hey, it’s the son of a billionaire. and i’d much rather see my super sexy girlfriend beat my best friend’s ass.”
artemis grinned, her phone ready to snap a picture of when wally would undisputedly hurl like a toddler who had eaten too many gerber puffs. “me too, so hurry up, wally.”
the memory of dick throwing up because of the amount of sugar he had consumed in the short span of three hours almost had you laughing out loud, with your fiancé in the bed right next to you. god, you were so pathetic.
“something funny?” his low voice was next to your ear, and you could almost feel his breath on your neck, but for some reason, you wanted to push him away.
your breath hitched, and the guilt crept into your heart again. you were in bed with your fiancé, and you were daydreaming about your ex-boyfriend, who probably forgot your existence. dick was charming, but even you knew that he had a steady stream of people on call to fuck. one of the plus sides to being the hottest person in blüdhaven, you guessed.
“uh, just checking the group chat. girl stuff, matt, you can’t see it.” your mouth twisted into a mischievous smirk, and you quickly stood up and walked towards the shower, rapidly checking the group chat that you opened up your phone for. curse dick grayson and his beautiful blue eyes, which were obviously the only reason you stared that that picture for so long. not the lovesick look he had on his face when looking at you, and definitely not his flirty smile when you made eye contact with him. that would be crazy, right?
maybe you should finally open the group chat.
rue: so how’d your night go?? 😉
annie: i bet she’s so tired that she can’t even walkkk
charlie: ofc she can’t, it’s matt myers!! he’s so fine 😩😩
the conversation then devolved into a discussion of which of matt’s photoshoots was the ‘hottest’, which should’ve made any other, self respecting friend group shy away from the conversation, but never rue, annie and charlie. no, they said that matt was too ‘sexy’ to be quiet about, and it was like they were waiting for you to mess up just to take your place. the sad part was that you wouldn’t mind letting them.
you had met matt, ironically, at a wayne gala that you were covering post breakup with dick, which was the only way that you measured time nowadays. he was hot enough to be… a rebound, and you were okay with that, until he started hounding you for a date. one date, two dates, and suddenly, a year and a half later, you were engaged. the next step, obviously (in matt's words), was the whole white picket fence, 2.5 kids, and living the rest of your days in your dream house. if it was so obvious, why did it make your stomach curdle like you had a flu? why did the idea of kids with matt, being bonded to him for life, make you want to toss your stupid ring at his face, pack your bags, and run? did he even know why your favorite color was dark blue? did matt myers know that the reason that the sapphire stone on your ring was because of dick grayson?
you glanced at your fiancé before looking at your phone and sighing. “matt, i'm going out for some fresh air.” your heart panged. maybe you should give matt some slack, because after all, he picked up the pieces of you after dick so abruptly left. maybe he was better than what you gave him credit for. maybe the two of you would work long term, and you could go the white picket fence with him. it couldn’t hurt. “wanna come with?”
“nah. get me some seaweed chips though, from erewhon. we ran out.” matt shot you a badly timed wink, which made you grimace, and in that moment, you realized a very disturbing fact. nobody could make your blood pump like dick grayson, and no matter who you were with, there would only be one man on your mind.
sighing, you quickly changed into a ratty hoodie and leggings, making sure you weren’t in some sort of nightmare dream that you weren’t able to get out of. because that was your dream, right? being engaged to an incredibly attractive, talented and kind person, and spending the rest of your life with him? you gave yourself a short pep talk in the mirror—“you are hot! everyone wants you! you are engaged!”—before slipping on your shoes and calculating the distance to blüdhaven’s nearest erewhon, which was an easy twenty minute walk away. maybe you could thank matt for the exercise that he was always hounding you to do.
step. step. step. your walk turned into the same banal rotation of the past year and a half of your life, always the same thing over and over, and the thought of what your life might have been like if you had just stayed clung in your mind like cobwebs. unwanted, unnecessary, but it made your heart ache just a little bit to get rid of them.
erewhon came faster than you expected it to, and you stepped inside, the chilly air hitting your face like a wall of ice, and you grabbed a basket, picking up those chips matt loved. he was safe. safe and comfortable, but why did safe and comfortable suddenly feel like boring and predictable?
you caught a glimpse of yourself in the reflective glass of the door, yearning to see the bright eyed, excitable girl that existed only a few years ago, but all you saw was… you. drained, unhappy, a permanent frown on your face. you attempted a smile, pulling your mouth from both sides, but the result was only a mix of a grimace and a clown’s toothy grin. you couldn’t smile right either.
your phone pinged, and a blue heart showed up on your screen. you hadn’t texted him in two years, but the icon still made your heart flutter with anticipation, before your squashed it like a bug under a boot.
DICKIEBIRD 💙: hey smartie pants! i need to talk to u about something important. let’s meet at 0900 at lux?
you bit your lip. the pros of this: you could finally get closure. dick grayson was hard to get ahold of, but maybe this was your chance to ask him—why did the two of you not work? was it you? was it him? or was it his true first love, nightwing?
you: hey. does 0930 work? i’m out running errands right now.
a beat.
DICKIEBIRD 💙: yeah! miss u lots, btw. see you then!
two hours later, after you had dropped off matt’s life-sustaining seaweed chips for a disgruntled “thanks, babe” in return, you walked into lux, your favorite sweater and skirt combo clinging onto you like a second skin. you’d worn a different, light blue dress on instinct, but you quickly realized that the dress you had picked out was dick’s favorite, so it immediately out of the question. shame, it was a damn hot dress.
“hey!” you heard a cheery voice from behind you. he said your name like it came off easy, like you hadn’t been each other’s confidants once upon a time. he said your name the way you wished that you could say his, with no meaning attached behind it. “it’s been so long, and you look great!” his eyes flicked to the stone on your left hand ring finger, and you could swear that his face fell the smallest amount, but if he felt anything, he didn’t tell you.
you didn’t have the same self control that he did. his name fluttered off of your tongue like a prayer, like he was a god and your only chance at salvation. “dick… um… hi. yeah, you look great too, but i guess enough people tell you that on a daily basis.”
“well, i hope you’re getting complemented just as much. what, your fiancé not doing it for you anymore, or is that just a pretty rock?” he grinned, his dimples highlighted by the dim light in the club. you suddenly kicked yourself for even showing up. how could he read you like a book by only looking at you for a minute or two, max?
your eyes widened, heart beating out of your chest. “uh, i mean… i’m engaged. matt. that’s his name. matt myers.”
as if reading your mind, dick’s smile fell, and he placed a comforting hand on your forearm. “hey, i didn’t mean anything by the pretty rock comment, okay? don’t stress, i’m not here to seduce you.” oh, dick. what you’d give for him to say the opposite. “i’m actually here about a case. not bruce related, by the way. my usual case partner on this one is having a little trouble, so i thought…” he shrugged, because telling you that you were a backup didn’t break his heart, not like being on the receiving end broke yours. it wasn’t a shatter, just a tiny crack to the ones that he’d been adding all this time.
“yeah, i can help you out. what’s up?” you tried to seem nonchalant, but maybe the pain seeped through your voice. you wouldn’t count it against your terrible emotional regulation skills, but a small part of you was itching to help—to get back into the routine that truly sparked fire in you, instead of the rabbit food conversations that had matt jumping around like it was Christmas.
dick pulled out a variety of manila folders, labeled with a variety of female names on them, and a type of flower. he pinched three different photos of the victims, you were assuming, who were mauled and then arranged into neat shapes, with their hands crossed over their chest like mummies, and a clean, crisp white flower placed on top of them. the flowers were all different species’, you noted, with some including a white rose, a white poppy, and a white petunia.
“what do you have so far?” your voice came off far too eager, far too fast and far too interested. no, this was a favor he was coming to you for, so why did it feel like you were a caged bird that could finally sing, stretch it’s wings and soar into the sky without inhibitions? dick pressed his lips together, running a hand though his tousled, raven hair. god, what you’d give to have the chance to do that one more time. maybe dick was right when he broke up with you, because if you couldn’t even control yourself when you had a fiancé, how did he know that you could handle being with him?
he hesitated—it was evident in the way that he froze before trying to say something again. perhaps he was also thinking about the other times that you helped him with his cases, spending late nights poring over pictures and elaborate pictures, only to end up watching the real housewives of beverly hills instead. or maybe he was rethinking, questioning, even, why he had even involved you in the first place. you wouldn’t hold it against him; you’d always been too interested for your own good.
“close to nothing. no prints, no dna, just these flowers, whatever they mean. i wanted to know if you could reach out to shy of your sources—see if they know anything. they’ve been helpful before.” his voice sounded tired, not the usual, cheery voice he pasted onto himself. it made you feel a bit better, if you could call it that, that he didn’t feel the need to pretend to be the golden wayne child in front of you. or maybe you were delusional in your belief that he’d even let his facade drop.
you bit your lip, and twisted the dark blue engagement ring on your finger absentmindedly. “is this a nightwing problem, or an officer grayson problem? because that makes a difference in which sources i use.”
dick grinned, and you were mostly sure that it was genuine, with a flash of teeth distracting you from the issue at hand (which was more like the issue on your left hand ring finger) but dick had always had that effect on you. “thinking about breaking the law, future mrs gr—future pulitzer prize winner? to answer your question, if you think about it,” he started, “it’s a both problem.” his face fell, and the wide smile that was there moments ago disappeared so fast that you almost thought that you imagined it. “they’ve started personally targeting people in my family. cass and damian both noticed a tail when they were walking out in the city, and i would be worried if they weren’t, you know, the deadliest people in gotham, but if anything happened to them, i don’t know if i'd be able to forgive myself. or worse, alfred…”
the look on his face is anguished, as if he’s imagining a lifetime of pain being inflicted on his family, and you know that he’s rather take it himself than let anything happen to them. “dick, don’t worry, okay? alfred is probably more dangerous than anyone in your family combined, and i say that after i've met cass and steph. nothing’s going to happen to them. we’re going to find this psycho, then we’re going to get justice for the victims and their families.” you reach out to touch his arm, but the moment your skin makes contact with his, you pull back like his forearm was on fire.
nodding, he looks back up at you, his eyes filled with an admiration you haven’t seen in quite a while. “yeah, i’m overreacting, right? and it’s not like they won’t be able to defend themselves. cass could probably kick my ass on one of her bad days.” he shudders. “she’s awesome and all, but scary as hell.”
you laugh, finally at ease, not on edge about what you’re saying or about to do. “yeah, well, clearly you’ve never seen her in the same room as a full english breakfast. i remember this one time that she came over to our apartment after patrol, and this was at three o’clock in the morning, okay? she walks in, starts getting the eggs out of our fridge…” your eyes catch a glimpse at dick’s face. he’s smiling, his face satiated and truly… happy. how long has it been since you looked like that? the earlier morning comes into your mind, and you stammer, recollecting how you looked in the glass of the fridge at the store. like a broken woman rather than the girl that you used to be.
now it’s dick’s turn to take your hand into his, and rub it gently, the way that he always used to do when you were nervous before taking one of your tests in university, or when you utterly messed up cooking dinner. it meant that he was here for you, that he would be there no matter what, but a small part of your brain wanted to question him nonetheless; if he had left you before, he would leave you again. that was the rule, the past precedent that he had kept for himself, and if he had wanted to stay, he would’ve.
his thumb brushes over your engagement ring, the one that you and forgotten even existed and now felt heavier on your finger than a ton of bricks, the one that your fiancé had given to you as a token of trust. you couldn’t break the one promise you had left, but clearly, dick must have been thinking the same thing. he pulled his hand away the moment he touched the ring, and looked at you with a guilty expression. “so… how long have you guys been…”
“last night.” you said, not an ounce of warmth in your voice. there never was, when it came to matt. it was more like a dry tone of obligation than anything else.
dick’s eyes widened, shame seeping into his expression. “i'm so sorry, sw—i mean, you shouldn’t be here on your engagement day. we can talk some other time, or i can send you—”
“if i didn’t want to be here, dick, i wouldn’t be.”
“good to know.” he smiled, before turning his attention back to the folder in his hands. “hey, i have to go. we’ll keep in touch, alright?” he stands up, about to lean in for a hug, but you stick your arm out, ready to shake his hand. cold and impersonal, but it wasn’t like you were doing a good job of that in the first place.
the two of you settle for a half hug-half handshake combination, somehow making the situation more awkward than it already was. he send you a crooked grin, and it cements itself in your brain, another blip of dick grayson in your grey life. maybe… maybe this isn’t a bad idea after all, and maybe you could rein in your emotions just to see a little more of him, his dark blue eyes haunting your dreams like an apparition. you could sacrifice that and so much more just to have his eyes in your life.
“see you later, right?” you smiled, the muscles in your face contracting in that direction for the first time in a few weeks, perhaps. oh, the things that he did to your poor heart. he waved, mouthing a quick bye to you before picking up a call on his phone, and you could hear a stern ‘jason’ before he vanished, out of earshot, out of sight, but not out of your mind.
you started on your path back home, deciding against taking a taxi when the fares would be the highest. maybe it was just an eerie coincidence on your part, but you swore that there was something behind you, a pair of eyes tracking your every move. you would have cast it aside as paranoia, but it was sending a creeping shiver up your spine, terrifying you to your very bones. perhaps that is what happens when one works on a murder case.
you brushed it off, but the feeling of eyes on your back did not dissipate.
ooh spooky right? does anyone fancy a part two for this one or nah?
#batfam#batfamily#bruce wayne#dc batman#dick grayson#jason todd#jason todd x reader#batman#bruce wayne x reader#damian wayne#dick grayson imagine#dick grayson x reader#dick grayson x you#richard grayson#dc robin#dc batfam#dc imagine#dc comics#dcu#dc universe
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I know this is basically heresy to the Spock fandom. I know a lot of people will disagree, and fics will continue to do things exactly the way they always have. But I must speak my truth.
Spock is not green.
Spock's blood is green but his skin is best described as sallow. Pale with a yellow undertone.
Likewise humans are not honestly all that pink (no matter what Shran says). But we are more pink than Spock is green. We have a pink undertone, but Spock's undertone is yellow.
I've thought it over: the colors of human blood, with and without oxygen; the colors of copper, oxidized and not; the color of the copper-based blood of horseshoe crabs; the optical qualities of human skin. And I offer an explanation.
If you have a lightish skin tone and you flip your forearm over, you'll see blue veins. Which is why you probably grew up thinking unoxygenated blood is blue. It's actually not; it's purple.
What we're seeing is a scattering effect. You know how the sun shines in the atmosphere, and most of the color comes straight through just fine, but the blue covers the whole sky instead of coming straight down with the rest of the sunlight? That's because our atmosphere lets the other colors straight through (the warm white of the sun as seen from Earth) but scatters blue, making it seem like it's coming from everywhere.
Human skin does the same thing to red. While blue comes straight through, as if the skin were transparent, showing clear-edged veins, red is scattered. You won't see your arteries. Instead you see a pink cast that seems to be coming from everywhere.
Importantly, which colors show through and which are scattered has nothing to do with our blood, and everything to do with the optical properties of our skin.
Back to Spock. Oxidized, his blood is grass green. Which is kind of odd when you think about it. Horseshoe crabs have copper-based blood, and it's blue. When it doesn't have oxygen in it, it's pretty much colorless.
And this is the color of oxidized copper. I wouldn't call it grass green. The proper word is verdigris.
So for Spock's blood to be grass green, there's probably something yellow in it. The plasma, or the white blood cells, or whatever.
Unoxygenated, copper is ... well, copper-colored. Orangey-brown. I'm not sure if it's possible for anyone's blood to ever get fully unoxygenated—cells just aren't that efficient. But if we assume Spock's blood is less green and more orange when unoxygenated, we might expect a yellowish-brown, yellow being the only color in both green and copper.
So we just have to assume Spock's skin has optical qualities which allow yellow through more than green or brown. The yellow is scattered, while visible blood vessels (if Spock has any) might be green or brown.
Yes, I'm arguing that Spock blushes yellowish. His ordinary skin tone would darken. You wouldn't have a whole new color showing up.
None of this implies that Spock's mucus membranes (tongue, gums, internal parts of genitals such as a sheathed penis) wouldn't be green. Without the thick, protective Vulcan skin, a lot more would show through.
I'm just saying, Spock looks pale-to-yellow on the show and I'm okay with that. I think science can justify it. (Alternatively, as SPOCKNALIA argues, Vulcan skin is too thick to show much through it, and the yellow tone is Vulcan melanin.)
However, I may still continue to have Spock blush green just for art's sake, and you can too. The only law of fanfic is that your canon is whatever you say it is.
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on the name thing: i think people want to call you something different because they like you and want to feel like they're your friend by giving you their own quirky nickname. a show of affection or something. that's my good will interpretation of it because it's certaintainly something I can relate to.
also hope this is ok to say, but I miss seeing you doing facecam. you're gorgeous ^^ i respect if you don't feel comfy with it tho, it ain't easy and it's probably much comfier to not bother with it at all lol
have a great day, Penny!
(i know i literally just said im moving on from this but i felt like this idea was worth responding to, AFTER THIS i am moving on guaranteed)
i get that! and thats why i stress that i feel this way regardless of intent because the last thing i want to do is cause guilt or demonize people for something that's ultimately pretty common. but even considering your example, with that notion comes a couple problems:
i am not your friend! i do think that there has been a bit of an OVER-correction when it comes to how people think about parasocial relationships and personally relating to people they admire, and generally i like to push back against the notion that having any parasocial relationship is a bad thing cause personally i think parasocial relationships are unavoidable and it's more about your expectations towards that one-sided relationship that become the issue. but two things remain true in either case: i know you so much less than you know me, AND you know me infinitely less than you think you do. so at the end of the day, it is not my responsibility to walk on eggshells about behavior that assumes an intimacy from me i am incapable of and especially uninterested in retaliating.
i have to stress that i am extremely aware it would be insane of me to expect to control peoples actions regarding this on such a large scale, and im also well aware many people come in who are new who get this info for the first time. i repeat the conversation in the interest of introducing those boundaries to people who are new and in general just reinforcing them. i try not to be such a stick in the mud about most things but this is something I REALLY care about, and so i give it the no-nonsense approach i think it deserves. on that note: understanding that there are going to be gaps where people either just do not know about my preferences or simply do not care doesn't mean i have to pretend like i also don't care about it. people can say whatever they want about me in their own spaces, you can call me whatever the fuck you want amongst friends. i do not care cause i do not have the capability to care, it's never going to reach me! but that does not mean i have to pretend to enjoy it if/when it DOES reach me, especially if it's presented as an option for me to respond to. if someone just calls me something weird in a chatroom it's like, i literally do not have the energy or overall scope of vision to react to every one of those instances specifically. there absolutely are things u just gotta let roll off of u sometimes. BUT, the reason we often get into this conversation repeatedly on my tumblr is because given the ask format i get a lot of people who go out of their way to approach me with name jokes or loopholes to an actively established preference as if they are looking for my approval on it. that is where it becomes a little more unpalatable for me.
and to respond to your second question: i appreciate the kind words on that! i sure would like to reintroduce facecam again someday somehow but right now my desk setup is not great for it haha
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Karkat's becoming cognizant of all the videogame tropes in his vicinity, and he is pissed. This is what happens when you’re exposed to that damn fourth wall for too long.
Jump cut to Gamzee squatting in a dark corner somewhere, a Google results page for ICP open on his laptop, absolutely seething with anger.
[…] KANAYA: Do You Think Terezi Is Aware Of Your Interactions With Her
KARKAT: I DON'T KNOW, PROBABLY?
KANAYA: I Dont Want To Sound Too Meddlesome Because I Know People Dont Like That Much But Didnt You And She Used To Have A Thing Like That […]
KARKAT: THE THING WHICH MAY OR MAY NOT HAVE EXISTED NOTWITHSTANDING, WHAT RIGHT WOULD SHE HAVE TO BE UPSET ABOUT ME TALKING TO JADE.
KANAYA: Maybe She Thinks You Are Trying To Make Her Jealous
KARKAT: OH LIKE SHE'S NOT DOING THE SAME THING TO ME BY TALKING TO THAT POMPOUS TOOL WHO'S IDIOTICALLY INSECURE ABOUT THE COLOR OF HIS EYES. […]
KANAYA: Do You Actually Believe She Was Pretending
KARKAT: YEAH SURE. I DUNNO
As the trolls’ party begins to unravel, so too does their intricate web of relationships. The entire John/Dave/Karkat/Terezi/Vriska situation is already a mess, and if Karkat is developing a legitimate crush on Jade as well, things might be about to go nuclear.
Forget Jade - I think Kanaya’s the one who’s really thriving from this cultural exchange.
Well, that’s certainly more convenient for me. Saves me from having to check everything with everyone, as I was originally planning to do.
Initially, I thought the trolls were just losing cohesion naturally as Project Trolling drew to a close. A lot of them won't give a shit about Project Friendship, so I assumed they'd just left to do their own thing.
This, though, seems like a pretty ominous way to describe the situation. It's like the Veil is a little too quiet, and not just because people have dispersed. Has Vriska been doing a few offscreen murders, or is something completely unrelated going on?
KANAYA: Im Returning To The Core To Deposit The Matriorb […]
KARKAT: I MEAN, THAT'S GREAT, IF THAT'S WHAT YOU WANT TO DO WITH IT. BUT YOU CAN'T GO, I NEED YOU HERE. LOOK AROUND, SHIT IS MAYHEM.
KANAYA: Ill Only Be Gone For A Few Minutes
KANAYA: Anyway Youre Doing A Good Job And I Think You Can Manage To Cope With My Momentary Absense […]
KARKAT: IN THAT CASE
KARKAT: GOOD LUCK, HOPE IT WORKS.
These two are such good friends. They're probably my favourite platonic friend-ship in the entire comic, just on the strength of how earnest their relationship is.
Damn it, did I seriously just get jumpscared by a ‘Be Eridan’?
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Hello, I hope that you are having an amazing day. If requests are still open, I have a funny Star Wars prompt/or/oneshot if you want. You know how in Top Gun, after Maverick flirts with a lady at a bar, only to find out the next day that she is his superior officer. What about a similar situation in the Clone Wars era, in which one of the members of the Bad Batch, or one of the 501st like Fives, flirts with a female Jedi reader (who's probably in her early twenties) at the 79s, not knowing that she is a Jedi General. Only to find out the next day that she is the Jedi General assigned to them for their next mission.
Her appearance in the bar makes her look nothing like a Jedi. She just looks like a civilian until she is in her jedi robes the next day. She doesn't deliberately deceive them or anything. She just wanted to unwind after an undercover mission. She just didn't think bringing up that she is a Jedi was important, she assumed they already knew. The only hint she gave on their "date" night was a happy and playful "see you tomorrow" as they part ways to get to their respective homes/barracks. She is happy to see them the next day.
Cool fun little oneshot! Decided to go with Crosshair, seems more like his thing.
Hope you like it!
Xx,
Sky.
"SEE YOU TOMORROW"
CROSSHAIR/F REDADER 📩💖
WARNINGS: ALCOHOL, FLIRTING&TEASING.
Your muscles still ache after a two year undercover mision in Alcaz. Spending long hours of running and hiding in the capital will do that to anyone; even a Jedi. Your first mision with the Order started years ago; even if you're still young right now. Everyone starts early these days; you went from youngling to padawan and Jedi Knight in just a blink of an eye. The war makes you feel older than what you really are.
It's weird being back in Coruscant. Back in a normal setting were you don't need to constantly be aware of your surroundings –even if it's instinctual, now–; where you're not constantly in danger. Entering 79's, your eyes quickly flickering over the crowd of tipsy clones and the dance floor, a tiny smile makes it up to your face. You feel inmediately relieved, somehow. You don't need to pretend here. You don't need to be a soldier, a Jedi Knight, a General. You don't have responsabilities and lifes dangling from your shoulders. Here, right now, you can just be you, a simple girl in her twenty-two's.
Happy smile still in your face, you make your way towards the bar. You order a sweet drink light on the alcohol side to start with; turning around and taking small sips while you scan the bar distractedly. There's a few eyes on you already. Not because you're necesarily pretty –though you believe yourself to look alright–; but simply necause you're one of the few natives around here, and more so a woman. Clones will always be ever the gentleman, it's ingrained in their discipline, their sense of honor; but they're still men, real humans, and they have urges like everyone else. Like Jedis do, too, no matter what many people think.
You're not really in the mood for sex, though. You're too tired for that; your plan is to spend a few hours drinking and chatting and then return to the Temple. You've got a meeting tomorrow, and you should make sure you get your well deserved, comfortable sleep. You're almost drooling thinking of a bed already, but you'd like to unwind a bit first; even though your body is tired, you feel your mind too active to surrender to dreamland yet. Plus, you need to disconect from your previous mision and adapt to your new situation; to the new changes.
A few troopers that you had the chance to meet before starting your jump around the galaxy to serve to the Jedi and the Republic recognises you, and you quickly find yourself chatting amicably in a booth with them. They're kind, and perfectly respectful; they speak to you as if you were a normal person, though –not a general, not a Jedi–, and you soon fall into a relaxed posture and a lazy smile. None of you speak about war, about their fears and worries; but of hopes and desires, jokes and secret lovers that await for them patiently all over Coruscant. Some look flustered after realising they've confessed such things in front of you; but you just shake your head and smile. You're glad they're finding some happiness wherever they can.
On your third drink in –and probably the last one, judging by your flushed cheeks and the low hum of carefree excitement & arousal spreading inside of you– you feel another stare on you. It's heavy, it's intent so clear it's almost screaming at you; and you listen to your Jedi instincts, eyes slowly flickering around the bar to find it's owner.
You come up with a pair of dark brown eyes. They're the exact same shade of most of the clones in the GAR; and yet, it's stare so much more intense. It could almost cut through you and hit someone on the other side.
You study him curiously in the same way he has been observing you before. Even sitting down in a booth with some other soldiers, you can tell he's taller than most; the shape of his body and muscles long and thin, agile, though still strong. It's impossible not to notice the tattoo around his right eye; it fits him well, really. What surprises you most about him –besides his stare– is his hair, though; a mix of greys so pretty it almost shines under the lights of the 79's.
He's still dressed up on armour, like a lot of other soldiers on the bar. His is black and grey with a few stripes of dark red; a white skull with a "99" underneath it on his right pauldron. It's right then and there when you understand who he is, who they are; and your eyes twinkle in amusement, your smile widening. This is Clone Force 99, the squad that will be under your command. The Council told you they were different, that they had special abilities very useful for battles; but they fail to mention you they were literally, physically different as well.
You understand... Crosshair's –he must be– cautious and curious study then; he might be wanting to find out who exactly their new General is, and how does she behave when she's not on duty like everyone else.
You shoot him a grin and Crosshair's neutral, almost uniterested face turns into a smirk. He arches an eyebrow, and makes a gesture with his head; a welcome for you to join them in their table. You nod and say your goodbyes to the troopers; smiling and shooting one or two more playful comments before making your way across the room, walking confidently to this squad of extraordinary men.
"Hey there, boys" you greet them, deciding for informality in order to not spoil their night of fun from the start. "Care if I join?"
There's various reactions around the table. Crosshair looks amused. Echo and Tech are purely surprised –the later one quickly scanning you almost as if trying to find information about you with just his eyes–; while Hunter looks hesitant. Wrecker is openly excited and happy.
"Yeah, take a sit!" He pushes his brothers to one side, making room for you in the circular booth their sitting in, ignoring the other's quiet, pained grunts.
They all look a little tipsy too.
You chuckle and take the offer, letting down your drink on top of the table and sitting besides Wrecker. Crosshair arches his eyebrow again, still finding amusing how you seem confident enough in a table –a bar– surrounded by men. He likes confidence in a woman, but such levels are a bit more rare.
"Comfortable?" He asks, his voice deep and smooth, almost a lazy drawl, and you grin back at him.
"Very" you answer, emphasising your answer by taking a long sip of your alcohol and laying lazily against the booths backrest.
After holding his stare for a few seconds, you turn your attention back to the rest of the group; scanning them curiously. They do de same with you.
"So, didn't have time to do a change of clothes?" You point out. "Did you come back from a mission today, or is this just an night outfit choice?"
Wrecker laughs, will Echo and Hunter show a tiny smile. Tech is completely serious still, lost in his thoughts without tearing his eyes from you. Crosshair also stares at you.
"We came back from a mission a pair of hours ago, yeah" Hunter finally answers, relaxing slowly. "Thought we should enjoy a bit of freedom before getting back to work tomorrow".
His voice is deep as well; a bit more soft yet raspy.
"Ah" you answer, smiling guiltily. "Got it. Well, I'm not going to cut out your fun, no worries. Feel free to drink and chat as much as you like. Also... This is still a good fit. Beautiful armour, guys".
This time Tech blushes, Echo clears his throat in silence and Wrecker, Hunter, and Crosshair, all smile widely. Ah, yes, you forgot; armours are precious to all Mandalorians, including clones, and you could have very well call them...
"So you think we're hot? That it?" Crosshair drawls, eyes interested.
You laugh shrugging your shoulders. Yeah, well, you might be a little too tipsy. This is definitely your last drink if you want to keep things professional. Force knows if you weren't a Jedi and this weren't your men you'd have had already tried to take one of them home. Huh, it seems you're not as tired as you thought.
"Pretty" you correct him, if only to mock him a bit and play with him.
Crosshair's stare darkens and you can feel his arousal and want calling you through the Force.
You smile down playing with the rim of your glass distractedly, and feeling a sudden wave of shyness. Alcohol is a dangerous thing.
The thought makes you giggle a bit.
••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
The night goes on, and you switch to a non-alcohol drink as promised to yourself. The conversation turns normal and more easy as the clock ticks by; all of them being very interesting, fun people to chat with. Crosshair and Echo are more reserved than the rest; different types of quiet observing and thoughtfullness. You suspect the second one isn't as comfortable with your presence as the rest –while you have no doubt that that wouldn't suppose a problem in battlefield, you know he's an excellent soldier–; while Crosshair... Crosshair's intentions are still quite clear.
He's bold, you have to say. Most troopers wouldn't want to risk being reported for misconduct even if they know most Jedis would just gently shut their intentions down if it were the case. Clones usually don't want to risk it; though it's evident that Crosshair doesn't think you will or plainly, doesn't care.
It doesn't bother you. He's attractive, and it feels good to be desired; you're a Jedi, but you're also just twenty-two, and you can't help it yourself. Still, you're nothing but polite to him, if only a bit of playfullness here and there. You're not going to go to bed with him, not before your oficial meeting; not while you can still resist.
You sigh with a smile.
"Well, boys, it has been a pleasure" you start, standing up and patting Wrecker's shoulder besides you. "But I think I'm gonna go and try to shut an eye. Have your fun without me, see you tomorrow!"
Tech eyes widen slightly, observing your retreating figure while Crosshair makes a move to follow you out of 79's.
Tech grabs his brother's shoulder and pulls him back down, ignoring Crosshair's almost snarl.
"She expressed her desire to go to sleep, Crosshair. Let her be" he opted to say, still not 100% sure of his theory before proving it with a quick search on his datapad.
Crosshair sighed and gulped down the remaining of his drink.
••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
No matter that the Batch had left 79's pretty late in the night, they were all rised and prepared to meet their new General at 0600 puntually. Their faces carried nag under their eyes and various degrees of tiredness; but they weren't being shipped anywhere, so there was no real problem with that. It was just a formal meeting so they could put a face to the name and greet each other; then they'll be left alone to enjoy the rest of their shore-leave day.
"I hope she's nice!" commented Wrecker while they waited up in a line in front of the Marauder.
Hunter hummed.
"I just hope she lets us do our thing" he muttered, clearly not very happy about the new placement.
None of them were particularly enthusiastic; they had never had a personal Jedi General before, and it would be a big change for everyone involved.
"I am confident she will" answered Tech, perhaps the only one holding positive thoughts about it. "I have thoroughly researched our General in the early hours of the morning and she has an impressive record on undercover missions and other side tasks. It seems she is usually sent on unusual requests as well, just like us. In adition, she is fairly easy going. I am positive we would all be able to adapt to each other well".
Right when Wrecker was going to ask with a deep frown etched on his face how did he know she was as "easy-going" as Tech affirmed, a female figure crossed the doors of the hangar walking towards them with wide confident steps.
Wrecker's, Echo's and Hunter's faces stared back in shock; while Tech nodded firmly as if he were explaining something to them, and Crosshair followed the young Jedi's movement full of intrigue and a masked surprise.
"Morning, troopers!" She greeted them, still a few meters away from them.
Her smile was radiant in the greyness of the hangar bay.
Crosshair leaned towards the smartest of his brothers, subtle.
"Punishment for fucking your Jedi General?" he asked in a distracted whispered, eyes never leaving the woman aproaching them.
Tech answered completely unbothered by his antics; posture firm.
"From an informal reprimand to proper decomissioning".
Crosshair smirked.
"I'll risk it".
He arched an eyebrow in amused defiance when she looked straight at him.
THE END.
••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
Taraaa! Here it is love, hope you like it! It was a little fun cheeky thing to write :)
Not checked after finishing writing it cause I have exam tomorrow and still got a few finals left, but I hope I didn't make a lot of mistakes!
Only two more requests left before I jump onto another tbb Mermaid fic. Don't worry, yall, I will reopen requests the future, just let me survive my exams first ;)
Stay tunned!
Xx,
Sky.
Back to masterlist here:
#tbb crosshair#crosshair x oc#the bad batch crosshair#crosshair x reader#clone trooper crosshair#cross#star wars#clones#fanfic#tbb#clone wars#fics#hunter tbb#tech tbb#echo tbb#wrecker tbb#clone force 99#cf99#79's#one shot#oneshot#jedi reader#jedi general#female reader#crosshair x you#crosshair x y/n#flirting#drinks#fluff#teasing
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With this whole 'rape fantasies are a result of misogyny as they allow women a guilt free sexuality cos they have no autonomy'
Surely that means your writing and fantasies are contributing to misogyny? Adding to it and normalising it?
Like isnt the answer to write and encourage fantasies of empowerment? Not abuse and rape?
Just seems crazy to me like 'we do this because of misogyny. And we'll keep doing it'
Obviously some behaviour come from misogyny and exist to combat it. This... really doesn't
I just don't think it's a feminist win when your writing is indistinguishable from that of a misogynistic man's.
This isnt an attack on you it just really seems like common sense that if something exists because of misogyny the last thing we should do is feed into those ideas
(I assume this is coming from this post, so I might reference that a bit here)
No worries, I fully understand how this can come across negative to those who do not have the same experiences and I appreciate you approaching the matter in a non-attacking way with genuine desire to have dialogue on the subject. I'll do my best to address these points individually.
>Surely that means your writing and fantasies are contributing to misogyny? Adding to it and normalising it?
In the past few years fandom culture has become a bit obsessed with the idea of "normalization" to the point that the definition of the term has been a bit skewed, which creates issues with these discussions.
There is no concept of which existence of content containing it alone constitutes normalization, by the actual definition of the word. Normalization is the process by which it is distributed and way in which it is presented, and intent of its creation.
Normalization via fiction is a process in which a creator, generally intentionally, creates content that presents a concept as, well, normal. That is, not reprehensible or problematic to replicate, and presents this to a population with the intent of them accepting the idea as something acceptable in reality. Generally it also necessitates that the creator will try to ensure the media is viewed by mainstream general audiences who would not normally seek the content out, since the purpose of normalization is to make an idea acceptable amongst a population.
That is the opposite of what I am doing, which is creating a private space filled with warnings. I am going out of my way to ensure that people who do not want to see this content, have the foreknowledge to opt to avoid it.
By definition, if you’re creating content and ensuring that it is heavily warned, and marketing it as such that only a niche group who likes such content seeks it out, that’s not normalization by any reasonable metric.
>Like isnt the answer to write and encourage fantasies of empowerment? Not abuse and rape?
For some people, I’m sure that would help them, and in that case, that is a great solution for them.
But people are different, and certain things that help some, don’t help others. The types of fantasies that would probably be called “empowering,” personally do nothing for me but make me uncomfortable, in the same way that the sort of content I write makes some people uncomfortable. It does not have the same positive effects on my mental health that this form of content does.
>Obviously some behaviour come from misogyny and exist to combat it. This... really doesn't
That's fair — but it doesn't have to.
It is not intended to directly combat misogyny in any way, there are other ways to do that, and this does not have to be one. It's primary purpose is catharsis and the ways in which it benefits me and, as is my hope, those who choose to consume it.
>I just don't think it's a feminist win when your writing is indistinguishable from that of a misogynistic man's.
Again, I never had any intention for it to be a "win" — misogyny is the reason for why I have these desires, but in making what I make, my purpose is to provide catharsis for myself and others.
But also, I would heavily contest that it is indistinguishable from male fantasies. As someone who has seen actual men's misogynist fetishization fantasies, they are very different.
Female disposability and the complete worthlessness of women’s very being — that is, women being non-human objects that are interchangeable, and made to be used temporarily and replaced — is the core defining characteristic of male fantasy/sexuality. Male fantasies almost always involve multiple women to one man, largely because he does not have any actual bond with women, they are items to be collected, no interpersonal relationship actually exists.
The lack of interpersonal connection and lack of personableness itself is fetishized by men, what men get off to is the power they feel from completely disregarding the woman as a person in any way. The very act of the woman being thrown away after being used is fetishized.
In male fantasy, there is no interpersonal connection or affection of any kind, whereas that is one of the defining themes of content like mine.
Tl;dr — while misogyny impacts all women, the severity and form of it in different upbringings, environments and cultures can create misunderstandings and strong reactions when different people react so differently to the same content and thus form misconceptions about each other's perceptions and intentions, but I believe both sides of this argument are usually coming from a place of good intent.
While I fully understand how it would be difficult for those who do not have the same experience to grasp mine, I just ask for mutual understanding that some forms of content help some people, in the same way entirely different forms of content help other people.
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part 4/7
the lil law bein held by luffy is v important to me
[op comic masterpost]
[pg1]
Panel 1:
Law: ...
Panel 2:
Law: ...Bepo knows.
Luffy: Penguin and Shachi too I assume?
Law: They better not. I swore Bepo to secrecy. He only knows cuz he's the one who figured it out.
Luffy: Got it
Panel 3:
Luffy: So you wanna start with the pros or cons?
Law: Pfft, you know.
Luffy: Okay. I don't think it would make you feel very good.
Law: I'm already sick all the damn time.
Luffy: You know what I mean
Law [talking over Luffy]: I know what you mean.
Panel 4:
Luffy: We sail on different ships
Law: I don't know obstetrics
Luffy: My family doesn't have a great dad track record
Law: Most of my crew doesn't know that I'm trans, so I'd have to come out
Law: We're pirates
Luffy: You can't count that, there's already kids on my ship
Law: Fine
Law: We can't make our crews stay together just because we want to.
Law: People might think my crew is under yours and that would not go well.
Luffy: So if we wanted to stay together we'd probably have to leave for awhile like Usopp did.
Law: What if she's got white lead disease?
Panel 5:
Luffy: You already cured tha-- wait did you say she?
Law: Oops.
Luffy: Oops? Why oops?
Law: Listen, I needed all of the available information.
Luffy: Any more to share?
Law: Um. It's been about 12 weeks.
Luffy: Since what?
Law: Okay nevermind I have no more information that will mean anything to you.
Panel 6:
Luffy: ...Why does that make it different?
Law: ...I don't know, but it happened to me too. Not that it means it's a girl. But assigning a pronoun...I think I've gone soft. Wouldn't have meant anything a decade ago.
[pg2]
Panel 7:
Luffy: Me too. I think this'll be easier if we just say 'it.'
Law: You're right. But I tried. And even when I do, when I close my eyes I just see this kid that looks like you.
Panel 8:
Luffy & Law: ...
Panel 9:
Luffy: Fuck
Law: I know
Luffy: You can't just say shit like that.
Law: I'm sorry.
Panel 10:
Luffy: Well now we know it's an option. We could always plan for it later.
Law: But it also could be a fluke. Honestly with all the shit I do to my body it's a wonder she made it so far without me knowing.
Luffy: It's cuz she's mine.
Panel 11:
Law: Fuck
Luffy: That was supposed to be an inside thought
Law: You don't have those. This is a terrible idea.
Luffy: I agree
Law: So we agree we shouldn't do this.
Panel 12:
Law & Luffy: ...
[pg3]
Panel 13:
Luffy: Everyone expects us to be docked here for a week. So I don't think we have to decide right now.
Panel 14:
Law: Yeah. Yeah good point.
Law: And if I can just use the Sunny's library...I'm sure Kaya's got some books in there that would...offer perspective.
Panel 15:
Luffy: And we can keep thinking of pros and cons!
Panel 16:
Law: And at the end of the week we can both write down what we think we should do
Law: and we can compare answers.
Panel 17:
Luffy: It's a plan!
Law: It's a plan.
#my art#lawlu#law x luffy#luffy x law#lulaw#cw dysphoria#cw unplanned pregnancy#cw implied discussion of abortion
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points on a map.
this is... [loud kazoo] rather late but oh well! better late than never. related to this piece, this next one is plucking from the prompt crew and, as you can expect: is an introduction to the rest of Viv and Willie's crew! It was fun to write though, so I hope you enjoy it (will these make it onto ao3? maybe. no it is not proofread, sue me) Meet Inez Eckley, our very lovely navigator. All of these OCs will be on the carrd very soon!
—
It takes ten people to fly a B-17.
Not ten men, or ten boys — ten people. That was it. Really early on there used to be a joke, the setup was always the same: how many girls does it take to fly a plane? To no one’s surprise: Inez never found it funny, no matter how many times the punchline changed. It takes ten of me just like it takes ten of you.
She’d never said that, never had much of the courage to open her mouth about it. Luckily, the other navigators she knew either didn’t have the same sentiments or just kept them to themselves — Inez optimistically hopes for the second.
i.
“So we’re just… puttin’ pins in it?” Inez asks, turning to Croz and Bubbles. Croz nods, gives her a bit of a sheepish smile and Inez tries not to squint at the now blurry map in front of her — her glasses feeling like a cross where they hide under her jacket beneath her shirt.
“Pretty much. It’s a tradition.” He affirms.
“Gotta know where everyone’s from.” Bubbles tacks on immediately after — his smile is a little brighter. It doesn’t surprise her: Inez is fairly certain Bubbles was the one who was gonna run around and shoving red thumb tacks in people’s faces. Inez nods once, slow and pensive, before reaching for one of them.
“Ladies first, then?” She wants it to be a statement — but she can’t help but ask. As if they’d have her set up the map on the wall for a boys only activity.
She catches a glimpse of Harrie Morgan over in the corner, trying to nudge one of the guys out of the way so she could listen to the fight on the radio, and assumes that her worry isn’t a crazy assumption to make.
“So y’don’t forget about us,” Inez tacks it on at the end, a bit sheepish, fixing her gaze now on the plastic between her fingers. When she looks back up — Bubbles is still smiling brightly.
“Sure thing. You can do the honors.” He encourages, and that much makes her smile a little bit as she nods once to herself then takes a couple steps forward. She squints a bit, trying to will the text into becoming more solid, trying to recall the maps she’d pour over during practice missions over the States. Inez hesitates a moment, settles on the spot and hopes that she’s hit her target. Turning her head, Bubbles and Crosby are both looking over at where she’s placed it.
“Nashville, huh? That makes us neighbors,” Bubbles puts his own above hers. “Louisville.”
“Guess you’ll have to visit then. We’ll make a day out of it. Hit all the real touristy spots.” Inez offers. There’s a vision there that has her smiling to herself — one where her mother overfeeds them because they’re “too skinny to be Army,” and Croz, polite as ever, doesn’t know how to say no to her. “You too, Bing. And it’s your turn.” Crosby seems to perk up a little bit, takes his pin and tacks it right onto Iowa. Bubbles chuckles to himself, arms crossing over his chest.
“Yeah, you gotta visit. Th’hell’s back in Iowa.” He teases, and Inez can’t help the quiet laugh that escapes her. By the time they got back from this, Iowa would have Mrs. Jean Crosby again, who’s letter was probably sitting comfortably in Croz’s jacket pocket right about now.
“Don’t get him started, we’ll be here all day.”
ii.
Harriet Morgan, their ball gunner, has successfully stolen the seat closest to the radio. Carrie Hughes, one of their waist gunners, is standing awkwardly to her left when Inez tracks them down. Harrie’s leant forward on her elbows, the guy next to her, Roy Clayton, gives her a questioning look, expression twisted into one of mild annoyance as Amison messes with the knobs of the radio.
“You even got money on this, Morgan?”
“No, but ma’ pa might!” The expression on her face is bright, and she flashes him a sunny-side up grin — all crooked teeth and crinkled eyes. Carrie says nothing, but her cheeks flush in that mildly embarrassed way that they always do when Harrie’s garnering a bit of attention for herself. Sometimes, Inez is marveled by the fact that Carrie continues to follow her around in spite of her own introversion — but the world was full of mysteries and Inez figured this one would just have to go unsolved.
Harrie, as usual, is none the wiser.
Inez clears her throat on her approach, drops a hand on Carrie’s shoulder to squeeze it and give her a half-smile.
“Got a second to spare? Wouldn’t want you losin’ your seat, after all,” Harrie’s grin turns a little mischievous, and she waves her hand flippantly as she jumps up to her feet.
“Roy gon’ watch ma seat for me, ain’t that right?” Roy makes a face, a mix of shock and protest that falters almost immediately upon Harrie holding his stare for another second or two. Harrie claps him on the shoulder. “‘Preciate it, pal,” before clapping her hands together and jumping up to her feet. Inez thinks she hears Carrie mutter a sorry Roy under her breath. Inez can’t help the small laugh that leaves her as she guides the two of them towards the map.
“Shouldn’t take more than a minute.” Inez offers, but Harrie whizzes by her like a dog catching a scent, sidling up immediately at the work-in-progress amalgamation of push-pins.
“Well what’s all this then?” Her question is as bright as the rest of her and Inez only wonders momentarily how it is that she can treat every minor occurrence as though she’d just found a winning lottery ticket. Carrie’s interest, although more subdued, is still piqued — Inez can tell by the way those big brown eyes of hers light up in curiosity. June had made a couple jokes about the girl being the baby deer of the group: the nineteen-year-old was really living up to it now.
“Croz and Bubbles say it’s a tradition. Gotta put a pin where everybody in the group’s from.” Carrie tilts her head, brows furrowed — although Harrie wastes no time in taking one from the table and smacking it onto the map. Somewhere South, but that part was obvious.
“We get to…” Carrie’s voice trails off, but Inez knows how that question was going to finish, so she nods.
“All thirty of us. I went first,” That makes Carrie smile, and Inez pats her back before gently pushing her towards the map, before sidling up on its opposing side to squint at where Harrie found her mark. Montgomery, Alabama. Carrie, however, is more subdued about it — she simply points and voices it, as opposed to doing it herself.
“Denver,” Carrie offers and Bubbles puts the pin in.
“Ever been to the Rockies?” He asks with a bit of a tease. Carrie lets out a small huff.
“Do I look like a mountain climber to you, sir?” And now it’s Inez’s turn to snort at the barely there bite of Carrie’s remark — one that has Harrie laughing loud and unapologetic. Silently, Inez just hopes Carrie keeps sharpening that edge of hers’ until it gleams, if only for her own sake.
iii.
Inez knows that when their radio op smiles at her and promises she just needs to finish up this last game, that it is the beginning of a doom-coming.
Not for Fern, of course. Never for Fern — Inez was fairly sure she could talk Eisenhower himself into giving her a brand new fort for free. The doom-coming being for the wallet of whoever Fern has successfully deceived into thinking she was actually bad at darts: this time, it seems to be Quinn and Blakely — Hinton being her newfound accomplice. Inez doesn’t know how they haven’t been made aware of Fern’s goal to sucker at least half the 100th before they reach England, but that’s none of her business.
“No shame in callin’ it quits now, Carmine. I’ll even halve the winnings for ya,” Bailey drawls, and Fern scoffs lightheartedly. She puts her hands on her hips, cocking a brow and tucking a loose strand of shiny auburn hair behind her ear. There’s a slight pout to her lips. Hook, line…
“Don’t tell me you’re calling me a quitter, Bailey. Matter of fact, I hit this double eight and we double it. Two bucks each.”
Sinker. Quinn looks reluctant, but Bailey agrees — so they all cough up another bill to make it eight on the table. Fern takes her last dart and passes Hinton one of those award-winning smiles of hers, and Inez is reminded briefly of how they had her posing up by the plane for pictures back in Sioux City. And how a passing remark about how she should’ve been painted on the plane, not flying ‘em had earned the offender a fist to the teeth from June.
She lines up the shot, takes in a deep breath and then…
“Boop!” Fern declares as the dart finds its target, to the collective groaning of both Quinn and Bailey. “Thaaank you! And thank you!” She swipes the cash from the table, hands four to Hinton and then pockets the other four, before turning to Inez. “Heard something about a map, is that it?” Fern is looping their arms, her cheek brushing against the side of Inez’s head.
“Four whole dollars. You’re really stretchin’ that Mouse Hole piggy bank,” Inez remarks, and it makes Fern laugh a little with a shake of her head.
“Once we hit England it’ll burst all on its own,” She declares, definitively, then listens intently as Inez explains exactly what it was they were doing. The map’s got a few more pins — from Brady and Blakely and their crews. By the time they hit it, Fern’s already opening her mouth and unlooping their arms, pointing at the spot on the map in one fluid motion. “Racine, Wisconsin, boys, riiiiight there.”
iv.
Josephine Alden was always good at not taking up too much room — with Lorraine next to her, they would have the quietest corner of the bar were it not for Lena Connolly filling it with her own storytelling of tales from home. Jo seems more intent to listen than Lorraine, who’s eyes have fallen decidedly further down the bar, towards some back-and-forth occurring between June and Douglass. For a moment, Inez idles behind Lena, trying to figure out the best way to worm herself in.
Noticing this, Josephine gives her one of those warm and acknowledging smiles of hers.
“Did you need something, Inez?” she asks, shifting the attention towards her. Well, Lena’s attention at least. Lorraine still seems preoccupied.
Inez smiles, rubs the nape of her neck.
“Bubbles, Croz, and I are wranglin’ people to tell us where they’re from. Keep track of location and stuff. There’s a map for people to put pins in their hometown. I just wanted to make sure we all got ours,” she explains, looking over the three of them. Lena nods slowly, and Josephine is already straightening out to get up and head over.
Lorraine’s lips tug into a frown, dark eyes flitting from her back to the scene she was watching unfold in front of her.
“Do I have to?” And, despite knowing her, the question still manages to knock some of the wind out of Inez all the same. It’s not posed with a whine, but that sort of indifference that she takes towards most things that didn’t pique her immediate interest. Inez has shared a bunkhouse with the woman for the better part of a full year, but sometimes she still has to remind herself that it’s rarely ever personal; that it’s just Lorraine. Slow to convince, slow to bite down on anything without an incentive.
Sensing Inez’s own faltering, Lena taps in — a clap on Lorraine’s shoulder and a smile up at her.
“Haven’t seen Pasadena Nena touch down yet,” she casts a look to Josephine sliding off the bar stool, “Or Sparky.” Josephine perks up, an animated full-body thing so unlike her typical reservations that it even catches Inez offguard.
“That’d make us first, wouldn’t it?” Josephine points out. “First of the girls, at least,” She looks to Inez for confirmation, and it dawns on her all at once — so she nods almost too quickly in confirmation.
“Uh huh. Croz and Bubbles even let me put the first pin in it,” Inez admits. Lorraine’s brows raise just enough for her to notice, and there’s a twitch of Lena’s lip in knowing they’ve thoroughly incentivized her into something else.
Lorraine Ivanova didn’t care for much — but she did like to be first to things.
“Alright,” she assents, and Inez smiles a little more genuine, guiding the trio back towards the map. Josephine lets the other two walk in front of her, whipping around to raise her hand in greeting. Inez looks back to see who it is — only to realize all at once that she doesn’t know who it is that Josephine’s waving to. A member of Brady’s crew, maybe. By the time Inez is turning back around, Lorraine is taking one of the push pins to jam into the map wordlessly.
“Brooklyn,” Josephine murmurs quietly to Inez, as Lena mimics it, her own pin nearly on top of Lorraine’s. “And the Bronx.” She knew the two were from New York — but the differences between all those little neighborhoods made her head spin on a better day. Inez gives Josephine an appreciative smile that the girl returns, patting the spot between Inez’s shoulder blades before stepping towards the map and pointing.
“New Englander, huh?” Bubbles points out as Croz presses the pin into its spot.
“Same as Crank,” She nods, stepping back, before giving Inez a curious look. “Did you get Juney yet?”
v.
She had not, in fact, gotten Juney yet.
And their bombardier looked like she was about to bite Howard Hamilton’s head off — but Hambone just looked amused with his ability to successfully get a rise out of her. To be entirely fair, it wasn’t hard. And it also wasn’t worth the smack in the mouth he’d be getting if he kept poking her as though she were a sleeping bear; Inez walks a little quicker, Josephine keeping step. Douglass, who’d also been participating in the conversation, catches them first with that pearly-white smile of his.
“Ladies,” it’s an easy greeting, and Inez fixes him with a nod.
June Cielinski looks back at them now, blue eyes lit up, argument on her tongue and jaw clenched. She fixes her gaze on Inez and Inez feels her stomach drop almost instinctually. She’s like a horse being wrangled straight into a pen she wants no part of, because whatever conversation that was just transpiring would be far too much for her to keep up with.
“Eckley, would you tell Hamilton that—”
“We need you for somethin’,” Inez blurts abruptly. She then fixes her look back to the two men behind her and lets out a soft puff of breath. “I’m borrowin’ her.” Josephine slides seamlessly into the conversation with a heard you had a rough landing! that’s laced with all the concern of a mother checking on her kids after a long school day. June, however, is muttering what Inez can only assume are obscenities under her breath. Inez doesn’t speak a lick of polish — her cheeks flush anyway.
“What was that all about?” Inez asks after a moment, and June scoffs.
“Dougie wants to make a pass at Fern so I told him to piss off about it. Hamilton thought it was pretty funny,” June seethes, and Inez knows her immediate piece of advice wouldn’t be much help. Don’t feed into it was like asking June to hold her breath for an entire flight exercise.
She also knows it was less about the prospect of Douglass and Fern, of all people, and more about what lies beneath it — the principle of it. They’d all been sat down and had the fraternization policy nailed into their skulls. Inez figures that it’s hard to take a rule seriously when you’ve never seen the consequences of breaking it. So the guys found it funny, even if, like most things, the consequences felt very, very real for the woman. And most girls understood how words could be dangerous in a way that guys didn’t.
June was always going to be the first one to bat for them. That’s just how it was.
“Should only take a minute, then you can go back to uh… fightin’ the good fight, I guess,” June snorts, unapologetic in the way she rolls her eyes, but Inez knows it isn’t malicious. Her lips curl on something between a smirk and a smile and her physical being seems to loosen up a bit more. That makes Inez relax a bit, letting out a soft breath as they reach the map. “They’ve just gotta know where you’re from. Put a pin in it.” June’s lips pull into a small pout, a nod of understanding.
“Hope you boys don’t need me to point you in the direction of Chicago,” She raises a brow at the two other navigators. Bubbles just laughs, but Croz seems to flush a bit — meek in the presence of June’s sharp remarks as he goes to put the pin in its place.
vi.
“You get lost or something, Cleven?”
It’s never been hard to find her pilot, Captain Savorre’s made a spot for herself by the door just as Major Cleven comes in with a gust of wind. Inez watches Cleven take Savorre’s hand and shake it, and they give each other a smile — Cleven’s is barely perceptible, Savorre’s is mostly teeth. Whatever Cleven says in response, Inez doesn’t pick up on, but Savorre turns her head and Inez follows it.
Inez doesn’t get how she didn’t notice that the horn above the mantle was split in two. Savorre says something else Inez can’t hear, and claps him on the shoulder twice before he walks past. The two of them look like something out of the movies they’d play on base, if she was being completely honest with herself. Tall, confident, attractive. Cleven presses forward, nodding towards those who catch his eye, greeting those he knows.
She didn’t know the commander of the 350th well, but the general consensus of her and most of the girls was that he was quite alright. Harrie had gushed about how pretty his girlfriend was when they saw her once at the bar — all Veronica Lake waves and friendly smiles. Inez was too shy to talk to her then. Still, Captain Savorre and Lieutenant Neumann seemed to like him well enough — that was as much of an assurance as any. Sometimes it was hard to discern who their allies were in a group of hundreds of people.
Inez presses forward once she realizes Savorre is no longer preoccupied, clearing her throat as she approaches.
“Captain?” Savorre’s face lights up in another smile.
“Eckley.” Inez looks to the left, to Buck over by the map, then clears her throat.
“Me and uh… the other navigators were just gettin’ everyone to put a pin where they’re from up on the board. I pretty much got everybody but you and Lieutenant Neumann.” Captain Savorre had an air about her that was somehow both comfortable and intimidating. Inez always chalked it up to her having a good four inches of height on her. But the smile she maintains is a comfort as she straightens out a bit.
“Look at you, making friends,” There’s something about the way she says it that reminds Inez vaguely of her older cousins asking about her social life back in high school. It’s almost sisterly. When Savorre starts walking, Inez is quick to follow. “How’re those glasses working out for you?” she inquires. Inez feels her face flush. The cold metal frames hanging on the inside of her shirt feel heavier.
Savorre picked up on Inez’s habitual squinting pretty quickly. She said nothing of it, but Inez did find a pair of readers on the pillow of her rack in Wendover. She’d thanked the woman at least five times; Savorre just laughed it off, telling her her secret’s safe with her.
“Just fine, thanks,” Savorre nods, satisfied. Then, Inez lets her curiosity get the best of her as they pass by Cleven again in conversation with the Sergeant at the bar. “Everything okay? With the Major?”
Savorre’s mouth curls on a grin, directed ahead of her as opposed to in response to Inez’s question. Inez watches as Savorre drapes an arm around Neumann’s shoulders. She’d been in some kind of conversation with Lieutenant Brady. There’s a quick exchange there: an I’ve gotta steal her from Savorre, a small eyeroll from Neumann and then a small, surrendering nod from Brady that ends with Savorre turning on her heel.
It’s then that the Captain seems to remember Inez’s question.
“Our Air Exec just knows how to make an impression, is all,” is Savorre’s breezy reply, arm still draped around Neumann’s shoulders, who’s giving her an equally questioning look, but saying nothing. “Lead the way, Eckley.”
And so she does: back to the table, with its awaiting map with an ever-growing collection of red pins in places all dotting the U.S. Croz introduces himself all over again and handshakes are exchanged, Inez taking a step back to admire their work. There was something about being unable to distinguish any of them from one another that made her happy. Ten men in a bomber, ten women in a bomber, ten people to fly a B-17, ten pins on a map.
Bubbles puts the one for Neumann somewhere in Pennsylvania that Inez has never heard of. Then Savorre takes one for herself, looks over her shoulder and casts a smile pointedly at Inez as it finds its mark. Like she’s letting Inez in on a secret.
“Motor City,” is all she says as she puts it, presumably, on Detroit — it only then occurs to Inez that their pilot didn’t talk much about where she was from.
Before Inez can ask anymore questions, the door opens once more and Savorre heads off, curious as ever, to see who’s walked in. Neumann’s already ducked back to her prior conversation, and Inez falls into a contemplative, but satisfied silence as Bubbles goes to wave down another pilot. Indiscernable points on a big, big map.
#*poet writes#masters of the air fic#masters of the air OC#mota oc#hbo war fic#hbo war oc#hboww2rewatch
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AITA for not comforting a child after her science project didn't work?
( 💞💥 to find)
Okay this was a while ago but I still think about it sometimes and I'm genuinely unsure of if I did the right thinh.
So I (15F at the time) was a part of a science league thing facilitated by my school. Basically, you would meet after school once a week to study/work on projects, and then go to a competition in the spring against other schools. There were a bunch of different categories and activities but they were primarily separated into ones you had to study for (and would then take a test on) or build for (like a wheeled vehicle or a model plane, which would be graded). It was really fun and low-key compared to the sports programs at my school, so I liked it a lot.
A friend of mine, who we'll call S (15F) was also in the science league. We did a lot of study based competitions together, and usually placed in the competitions. During our third year, her youngest sister, M (12ish), joined the league. She was a really sweet and smart kid, and she was interested in trying a building based event. You needed two people to enter an event, so I volunteered to build a marble rollercoaster with her. M also grouped up with a girl in her grade for another building project (I think it was a plane).
Because M was doing two building events (which were predictably a lot more time consuming than the study events) and the school musical, we agreed I would create the plans for the rollercoaster and get the materials together. Now, each building events came with a printed copy of parameters and optional features that could get us bonus points. I decided on attempting for three bonus features (two jumps and a loop). Between designing on paper, adapting for the parameters, measuring out the track lengths, and gathering materials (that of which I had to switch out half way through), the whole process took me about four months to complete, and that was just the planning. We were getting pretty close to the competition date when we started to actually assemble the damn thing (at this point she had finished up her other stuff and was able to help me more consistently), and we were having a lot of issues with getting the track pieces to fit together. As I remember it, the problem came from having to fold the track over a bunch of times so it would stay in the 30cm-somethingish width parameter. The Thursday before the competition (which was in Saturday), M volunteered to take the coaster home and finish it there. I was honestly so relieved when she said this, because I knew through S that her dad was really handy, and like mini trebuchets and stuff for fun.
Flash forward to the event, when we're boarding the bus going to the school hosting the competition. She gets on with a cardboard box, and excitedly shows me a marble rollercoaster that is absolutely not what she left with at all. For reference, the original plan for the coaster was made of pvc pipe, which I spent around three weeks measuring out and cutting with a band saw in the shop room. This rollercoaster was two pieces of plywood with tinfoil tracks that you leaned against the cardboard box she was carrying it in. She hadn't included any of the extra features I had implemented to get us extra points. While I was shocked and admittedly pretty pissed I didn't say anything because she was a) a kid and b) I assumed that there was probably some issue that had arisen in testing that necessitated the changes. When we went to impound she struggled a lot with setting it up and the three pieces weren't attached with anything and were literally just leaning against each other. At this point it was also visually obvious that the width want way beyond 30 cms, and when the judges came around to measure, it turned out that it was above the allotted height too. M was looking really nervous about now, so I assured her that most of the time, the marbles don't even make it down the coaster tracks, and as long as our marble makes it to the end we should be able to place. Except, when it came time to release our marble, it moved for about three seconds before getting stuck in the tinfoil. We were allowed to try two more times, and it got stuck in the same place each time.
M was very visibly upset, and looking back I think she was on the verge of tears. It can't really remember what I said; I know I didn't say anything malicious or accusatory, though. Honestly, I think I might have just stood there in silence, because I was honestly really fucking angry that she ditched my design for no apparent reason and didn't bother to check any of the available rules or even test her design. But I don't think that anger justified leaving a little kid without support when she was upset.
tldr: When I was a teenager I didn't comfort my friends little sister after our marble rollercoaster didn't work because she had ditched the design I had made for one that broke parameters.
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Watched Eurovision last weekend and tried to only pay attention to the music but oof, the Israel derangement was horrid. Were any of the other contestants nice to Eden or at the very least not total assholes to her because where's she's from? Please tell me someone was decent or even mildly professional.
Hi Nonnie!
I'm glad to tell you that there WERE people who were personally decent to Eden and the Israeli team, from what I've heard.
One of the parts that suck is that it feels like talking about it too loudly might bring those people into the line of fire. I can say that about myself, that while I was treated awfully by some people in fandom, I've had people be absolutely wonderful to me, and I've had to keep my mouth shut and not thank or celebrate them publicly, because that would have drawn the fire to them. They absolutely do not deserve that. And it sucks that I can't even be openly grateful. Same with the people friendlier to Eden, we Israelis have heard stuff, so we know of them and are thankful, but I don't think anyone has said anything too public, because no one wants to endanger them.
Still, I hope it's been long enough since the final, that we can safely share a few things. Also, I'll emphasize that most of this is hearsay, I can't verify any of it, because it wasn't published officially, this is just the stuff we hear.
The Israeli singer who grew up in and was representing Luxembourg was really lovely with Eden. Tali could have easily avoided ANY association with Eden, so I give her credit for not doing that. The German singer was the nicest to the Eden and Israeli delegation, and I also heard that Germany actually stood up for Israel when the EBU wanted to disqualify it, rightly pointing out the differences between this situation and Russia's ban. I heard good things about the Austrian singer as well, the Latvian, and the Georgian singer. There's probably more that aren't popping into my mind right now, but this is a start, and it's nice knowing kind people, who won't bully a 20 years old singer just because of her nationality, do exist, right?
Another part that sucks is that even some of the people who were nice backstage to Eden, were only willing to do so away from the public eye. I think the most extreme one is the 2023 runner up, Finnish performer Käärijä. He ran into Eden backstage and was totally cool with them doing a short, quick rendition of his ESC song together (which you can see in the link below). It was clearly just two people who love music having fun together, but once the vid was posted online, people started attacking him for supporting genocide (because that's not a leap of logic at all), and he quickly put out a message denouncing everything he's said and done ever, including being born. Then he just had to reassure all of his bullies that he's "okay" even further. The Norwegian 2023 singer who was supposed to deliver her country's jury results had already announced she won't as an anti-Israel measure, so when he was supposed to give the Finnish jury vote, he simply announced he won't, letting people make the connection, and figure out for themselves that it was an anti-Israel move.
Still I think you can take the ones who weren't loudly nasty to Eden, and assume most were nice enough to her privately, even if not publicly. To figure out who those probably were, on top of the ones I mentioned above, I'll just give a short rundown of the performers who were being awful about Israel to different degrees (so you can figure out who was at least decent by way of elimination): Ireland, Belgium, Switzerland, the UK, the Netherlands, Greece, Portugal, Lithuania, Norway, Finland, Slovenia, San Marino, Denmark.
I hope I helped... Have a good day! xoxox
(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)
#israel#eurovision#ask#esc 2024#esc 24#antisemitism#israeli#israel news#israel under attack#anon ask#anti terrorism#antisemitic#antisemites#jews#jew#judaism#jumblr#frumblr#jewish#eurovision 2024
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So obviously it's still too early to properly analyze the exact relationship dynamic between Jax and Gangle in canon. I promise this is less of me trying to find legitimate proof of any character speculations, and more just a string of very quick, messy personal thoughts on the topic. Context and motivation for their behaviors are likely to be explained in future episodes, and until then there's still quite a lot of uncharted territory left to explore. (Although I will say that both these characters are surprisingly more active and engaging with each other upon rewatch. aka, their willingness to be around one another seems mutual, the bullying is not.)
The only information that we can currently gather about Gangle are her canon appearances, the preview screenshot Glitch posted on the official account and to a lesser extent, Gangle's concept art sketches: Alot of it being about her fixation and dependency towards her comedy mask. We don't know whether she's fixated on the actual sensation being happy 24/7 or just the ability to appear joyful around everybody else just yet, or What her real-world equivalent of the mask was, or even if there ever was a real-world equivalent to begin with. But, Personal indictment is that she does genuinely want long term companionship and meaningful connections with other people. Or at the very least, not be subtly ostracized out of social convention. I think she believes that curating her outward demeanor might change the way others perceive her, and hopefully the way they interact with her as well. It doesn't really help that each of the circus crew are all a bit too much in their own heads to notice, one way or another. Even if they do mean well at the end of the day, it's never quite what she's really looking to accomplish.
(It also doesn't help that her digital design is so detached from being human either, she's essentially a flat face on a piece of string. One can't really blame her for trying to make the most of what she's able to display tbh.)
So far, we know Jax is apathetic, violent and generally antagonistic towards everyone in the main cast, sometimes deliberately towards the girls. I think it isn't all that farfetched to believe he latched on to Gangle because she was malleable enough to target without facing most of the consequences. Subsequently, there's also the idea of him relating Gangle's tragedy mask to her willingness to comply: It's an emotional vulnerability for her (She already sees herself as less deserving of human interaction in this state, she won't have anyone else to go to, she doesn't seem to like being left alone). It's not farfetched to assume Jax sees the tragedy mask as a more "complied version" of Gangle, more entertaining and easier to string along. Me thinks he prefers it, but again. It's too soon to tell.
Anyways something something designated role in group activities something something internalized self-worth I think Gangle and Ragatha have very similar philosophies when it comes to people pleasing and it almost makes me believe in the theory that they secretly don't get along even more.
(btw plz feel absolutely no pressure to respond to any of this at all - Again, very messy thoughts that I barely had time to collect. Ribbun is an unexpected infection with unfortunately very thought consuming brain fodder to me personally. Have a nice day.
I like these thoughts! It'll be really interesting to see how the Comedy and Tragedy masks work for Gangle.
I do agree Jax probably prefers Tragedy Gangle as even if it's only as deep as "she's funnier like that." And Gangle is the easiest victim for him in that state.
We've seen everyone (but Kinger, who Jax kind of doesn't bother too much, and you could argue it's because Kinger doesn't give an entertaining reaction) fight back against Jax's behavior in some way. Ragatha yells at him, Zooble isn't afraid to get physical, and we can tell Pomni had death on her mind when he threw her off the truck. The most Gangle has done is timidly resist for a few seconds before compiling. Steps on her mask, pushes her, grabs her and puts her in the drivers seat, she doesn't say anything.
She has a couple of bite back words, but then Jax just bites back and it shuts her down. Which is interesting because when Ragatha yells at him it's clear he thinks its funny and merely snarks back at her, often getting her to yell more. He gets different reactions out of everyone in the group and picks different entertainment from that. Gangle might be the one he knows he has proper control over.
As for the Ragatha and Gangle thing, I was really interested in the fact no one cared when Gangle broke her mask in the pilot, not even Ragatha who is our outwardly most caring. You could say it's because she had tunnel vision on Pomni, but I immediately interpreted it as, yeah Gangle's mask breaks all the time, she's crying all the time, eventually people stop caring. The boy who cried wolf, etc etc.
Even if Ragatha doesn't have direct conflict with Gangle, the fact Ragatha is someone who internalizes everything, and projects a positive outlook, I imagine someone like Gangle would make her pretty uncomfortable.
Here Ragatha is trying her darnest to keep it together and remain positive, meanwhile Gangle is crying all the time behind her.
"It's not so bad here Pomni, I promise!" as Gangle cries in the background.
Gangle being a constant reminder of how Ragatha, and maybe all of them really feel about being stuck here. Too early to say if Ragatha resents Gangle for this, or how she really feels about it. But if she does that's so sad because (we also don't know yet) Gangle has no control over these feelings, it wasn't her choice for her avatar to work like this.
Which honestly could be a good allegory for how certain people view mental illness in the real world too. Ragatha being a loved one who's uncomfortable with Gangle's moods, or even believes if Gangle just tried hard enough like her (example: keeping her comedy mask safe) she'd be fine. Ooh sad comic ideas.
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The tragedy of Avatar's "Funny Guys"
So... Sokka and Bolin are both "the funny guy" of their respective group, we can all agree on this. Now comic relief characters aren't rare in media and often they exist purely to be said comic relief, with little nuance or storyline of their own.
But Avatar strays from this rule by giving their comedic relief characters a lot of depth.
Both Sokka and Bolin have been through some awful stuff. They've dealt with loss and plenty of adversity.
Sokka lost his mother as a child. After that, his father left for a war, basically leaving Sokka to care for his sister and village. And, to his credit, Sokka took his duties very seriously. You can see how protective he is of Katara and the members of his tribe, trying to defend them even when he's clearly outnumbered and outmatched. This also bled through into his role within the Gaang, where he acts as provider, strategist and organiser.
As for Bolin, he was orphaned as a small child, forced to live at least 10 years homeless. His horrific childhood trauma leads to him lacking a lot in social skills and confidence. And throughout the show he is manipulated, used and, quite frankly, abused multiple times.
But we already knew that, right?
We've seen them in their respective shows and we've heard their backstories explained to us. They share most of their backgrounds with their siblings, so it's not a leap in logic to say that they most likely have similar trauma.
So, why is that their "angst" isn't taken as seriously as, say, Katara's and Mako's?
I'd the main reason really is the fact that they are meant to lighten the mood.
This is unlike Katara and Mako, whose roles allow them to express their grief and pain more freely, the creators going so far as to incorporate symbols of their trauma into their designs.
Katara and Mako's actions are often more easily related to their trauma. Because their characters are more obviously tied to their trauma.
We, for example can understand Katara stealing a waterbending scroll and relate it to her need to connect with her almost completely destroyed culture. We can see Mako have difficulties connecting with people and recognise that this is most likely due to his troubled past.
Sokka and Bolin are more... tricky. We don't always think about the in world reasoning of their characters. Often, we just assume that they're doing something to be funny.
We see Sokka insisting to be the leader as: haha, funny bossy guy. Instead of: damn, this kid has been conditioned to take so much responsibility for the safety and well-being of others.
We see Bolin bending over backwards to please Eska as: oh, that Bolin, such a silly guy. Instead of: oh, shit this teenager spent his entire life as a dependent to his brother so his decisionmaking skills and backbone are probably extremely stunted.
This isn't helped by the fact that these character's pain, distress, grief and sadness are often played for laughs. And yeah, often the scene is funny. But that doesn't negate the character's in-world suffering.
I think this is what occasionally can be quite upsetting to me when people don't take this character seriously because they're "only meant to be there for the comedy". Maybe with a more straightforward show, I'd take that answer, but Avatar leaves us these pretty obvious breadcrumbs.
Avatar is a pretty well crafted show, in the end and most of the main cast have their nuances and storylines that raise them above the tropes they're meant to represent.
PS: This is not to say that Sokka and Katara have the same trauma, nor that Mako and Bolin have the same trauma. Both pairs of siblings took up different roles in their respective dynamics.
For example, Sokka visibly takes up the role as defender, provider and planner, wheras Katara deals with the more domestic tasks (yay sexism). This shows in how their trauma manifests in dufferent ways. Sokka's need to prove himself vs Katara's frustration at her percieved "role" in society.
Mako and Bolin's past is more nebulous, but I would argue Bolin still played an important role in his and Mako's lives. Bolin is cheerful and bubbly, almost by design. It wouldn't be a leap in logic to assume that a bit of that cheer may be fabricated in order to keep going. Bolin's lack of personal growth due to being Mako's dependent is also a symptom of his trauma.
It also bears to mention that these character's competence is also often downplayed due to the humorous ways in which they fail. Sokka planned an invasion on an entire nation that would've succeeded had it not been for Azula gaining insider information. He invented submarines. While Bolin is one of the most efficient and powerful earthbenders combatwise (I'm tired of pretending he's a mid bender the only thing stopping my man from commiting mass murder is his heart of gold). They are not just haha funny idiots. Put some respect on their names.
Ok I'm done stating the obvious now.
#getting off my soapbox#sokka#bolin#katara#mako#legend of korra#avatar#tlok#the legend of korra#avatar the legend of korra#atlok#lok#atla#a:tla#avatar: the last airbender#the last airbender#avatar the last airbender
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hai um 2r leon who adopts a hybrid that has been in and out of shelters for awhile bc they’re too reserved for most people! doesn’t wanna go anywhere or do anything and definitely doesn’t want any other hybrids around! but um that’s perfect for him bc he’s also a loser!! doesn’t go anywhere or do anything and he doesn’t have the money for another hybrid.
ok so boom! match made in heaven. he takes them home and he realizes why nobody wants them !!! they learn his schedule so fast and get upset when he’s even a couple minutes late from work. they’re always so nosy when another persons/hybrids scent lingers on his skin. they have to know everything on the rare occasion that he goes out with friends. idk they’re super clingy!! has to sleep in his bed and follow him around the house and sit in the bathroom when he showers. so imagine their dismay when he comes home late smelling like another bitch. over and over and over again. eventually they get locked in the spare room while this new person comes over. and no matter how much of a ruckus they cause, leon just won’t let them out! couple months go by and it’s all the same thing! he comes home late or they get locked away and it’s always because of that other person.
WELL ok it would be so silly for leon to come home one night to see his cute lil hybrid trying to fuck themselves on his pillow!!! they just miss him so bad and uh they’re in heat!! um he just stands and watches for a bit bc he’s a FREAK ! but they notice and he gets all red faced and embarrassed but like HES HARD !!!! especially like idk they’re just naked and wet and he’s a man? doesn’t matter that he’s been seeing another person for the past couple months and that they were dating and fucking like … how could he turn this down !! but also how COULD he fuck his hybrid !!! they probably don’t know anything about getting fucked hello !!! think he tries to be good and ask them like heyyyy lets not do that to my pillow please!!! um they dgaf. so he tries to explain um HEY we could do this and this and this to help u out yk… but they don’t understand!!! dumb hybrid!! like he really is just trying to help them out so he just ends up nonconning them !! shoves his dick in and hopes for the best! and at first they’re scared like … clawing at him and whining but not for long bc it starts to feel better than the pillow !! um so now they’re more attached and leon has cheated on his partner with a hybrid! AND i think he liked it bc the hybrid doesn’t know anyone else’s dick! just his!!! and that’s so good for him bc his dick isn’t that good . YEAH !
-💉
omg sorry I love aus where it’s bad to fuck hybrids and it’s sort of an underground thing like there’s rarely any porn produced and there’s like weird . places to do shady shit with hybrids yk.. sorry and also like um having a partner + a hybrid as a pet and not as the partner itself :3 LIKE IDK ITS FUN!!
feel like leon would do it out of pity also.. like yes he’s wanted one for a while but he sorta assumed like he didn’t have enough money for upkeep and um a lot of shelters have culling policies so he obviously swoops in and saves the day like he luvs to do and that probably has you even more attached to him!
hybrid that sits at the bathroom door and whines and scratches until he opens up!! howls when he leaves for home :( he can barely even get out the front door half the time it’s not like you’re a weak little pet he can shove off! ALSO I think it’s cuz im a cuck but im so into leon having a girlfriend and a hybrid LMFAO like idk and his hybrid if they get their hands on his gf trust… that girl will be leaving missing a lot of hair and he knows how aggressive they get and he feels cruel locking you into a room on your own—but his girlfriend insists that she doesn’t feel same with a pet that’s so possessive. so obsessed with him. esp when you kick up a fuss in there.. pushing at the door and smacking the handle till it breaks honestly..
but it’s only a matter of time before he catches you in the act… you like him so much and it’s not like leon has time to wash up often, his laundry’s piled up and his sheets have gone unwashed for god knows how long so it smells like him and it smells like her which you hate but it’s mainly leon so it’s enough for you!!! esp with the state ur in.. like idk. pre heat shit or just general leon brain…
um but he’s so.. shy ab it and obviously you don’t register that bc ur a hybrid and you don’t think like that! you walk around naked around him like you couldn’t possibly understand why this has him so nervous, and you can smell his scent souring as he watches .. and ur so confused. Like what does he what hello. why are you looking buddy is this that interesting?
think the most he does is light scolding like LMFAO he’s like hey… hey c’mon now 😡 in his stupid cop voice like it’s going to get anything out of you and obviously he’s never been too harsh on you, punishments never stick so he sort of ends up wrestling it off of you but ofc you think it’s tug or war and duh now it’s a game to you and he’s just so frustrated and so stupidly horny that he grabs you and pins you down.. feel like he is so pent up from secretly watching all these gross nasty hybrid porn videos he found like. idk on shady sites and ugh IDK it all blows up at him and he can’t help himself
apologises to you the whole time but never thinks to stop, just pets your ears and kisses your tears away and grits his teeth when you claw at his shoulders.. his girlfriend is gonna obviously point them out but yah.. knows you’re a virgin and that if you literally only ever try out his dick you’ll never know any better !! like sick messed up insecure thought he feels bad for having hes a LOSER 🙁
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I'm rereading the demo again b/c its so fucking good, inject it into my veins. But I'm at that part where Nathanael asks MC if they feel OK (re: illness) on their birthday. There's mention that ppl in the town do gossip about MC's illness, and sometimes unkindly. I have so many questions and thoughts about this, sorry! Does MC's family/friends know, how do they handle it (I mean they probably do if MC is aware of it)? Is this a frequent thing that happens? Is MC subjected to blatant harassment (for a lack of better words)? Since Oswin and MC drifted apart do ppl take this as an invitation to shit talk MC to Oswin assuming that they don't like each other? Hes not a ppl person so I doubt many ppl gossip with him/he wont partake but not everyone is the brightest and can be quite shameless. Are ppl shit talking about MC to Nathanael? What does he think of this? Is he asking about MC or do ppl just spill the beans to him b/c its a (what I assume) small town and he travels all over with interesting stories idk??? AND ANOTHER THING, I'm sure this has some sort of impact on how MC views themself/their illness depending on their personality which is a totally other thing to dive into. I'm sooooo curious about how the dynamics of the community with MC and the other characters. I want to crack their heads open and read their thoughts. Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.
That's awesome, I'm glad you're enjoying it!
As far as the gossip train goes, it's fairly typical small-town rumor mill stuff that goes on. You have some whispering falsehoods and exaggerations, pity from others, and some speak highly of the MC for their perseverance. MC and family are very aware that it goes on; it's been hard to keep things private. All it takes is one person at Kavi's clinic to see an unresponsive MC being carried in for the story to spread like wildfire. And, poor MC has had a couple small public episodes as well.
When MC was a kid, Kip could get pretty angry about people running their mouths, and he'd confront them directly. Some would insinuate that he's a poor father, question his ability to do what's best for MC - things like that. Dov is the type to ignore it, and few would have the courage to challenge him directly on anything. He's a total softie but he doesn't look it, so no one is looking for trouble with him.
MC as a child also received more pity and sympathy from adults - nothing terribly malicious except maybe a question about what their parents are or aren't doing to them. The hardest part for them as a kid was with other kids. It will come up in a flashback sort of deal with Oswin, or will at least be talked about with the MC and him. Some kids could be hard on MC about it - some would say they were pretending to be sick for attention, things like that. And would you believe that little sweet baby boy Aster/Lakota viciously defended MC from such teasing? Generally, his bullies were the same punk kids, since he was also sickly as a child and got the same guff.
Along the same lines as the flashback and discussions to come between Oswin and MC, when it was clear there was something odd between them, they both had a lot of rumors going around about the reason. Oswin may have gotten into a tussle over something that was said…He never tolerated others talking about MC (even if it was only speculation and not necessarily malicious rumors) - but MC does not currently know that.
By the time MC is an adult, the word still gets tossed around, but it's all pretty common knowledge, so you're not getting as much in general. The kids have grown up too, and they've stopped heckling poor MC, Lakota, and Oswin. And, oddly enough, Oswin both is and isn't a people-person. He treads the line there and it just depends on the person - which made it more difficult when he and MC fell out because he was still sociable and friendly to other people. In his late teen and adult years, he's actually reached a lot of popularity with the townspeople and local guard, as well as people in the cities he's helped. He's just quiet about it and isn't energetic about socializing. (He's also picky about who he talks with.)
With Nathanael, he's not one to tolerate malicious talk about people he respects, and he does have genuine respect for MC and company. Kip was the first customer in town to give his store a chance, and they hit it off with a good chat. Others have told him about MC's history, since it's probably one of the more interesting things about the town, and he would have heard their "ideas" and rumors about that. He would not be one to tolerate shit-talk though.
I hope this helps sate your curiosity, and I love that you're interested in this since it's not something I can dive into a bunch in-story as it would make for some very boring prose, lol. But there is a whole social community there that the MC was steeped complete with rumors, gossip, and both kind and cruel words. I enjoyed your Ted Talk and I hope you got something out of mine too! ^_^
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Snippets: Free Day Friday
Aka "you've ruined a perfectly good Damas is what you did. Look at him, he's got anxiety"
(For context, I gave Damas a backstory of being last in line for Haven's throne, but also Last Man Standing. This had something to do with Praxis hating "the default king". Long post warning, it's a whole one-shot again)
At some point in his life, the Precursors had decided that Damas was their least favorite Maridius. Any time something went well for him, it had to be immediately balanced by something awful.
He found acceptance and camaraderie that he never had from his elder brothers among the Forward Guard in the war.
And then Menelaus and Nicostratus died stupid, pointless deaths trying to seize glory, leaving Damas the sole focus of his parents' hopes.
He found an escape from the pressures in running the numbers, working out which districts needed food more than soldiers, and which districts needed more protection than most.
And then Father died and Mother shut herself in a convent, no longer interested in anything to do with her disappointing youngest son.
He actually had support from people for focusing on them and not the nest-
And his eldest brother's childhood friend literally stabbed him in the back and left him to die in the desert.
For a time, he'd assumed things would never get better. That the Precursors were tired of reeling him in and out like a fish on the line. But the hook pulled once more and he found himself using the skills he'd learned from the guards who raised him, joining a rebellion against a tyrant and defeating him against the odds.
And then the Precursors let him have ten good years. They let him find love, and family. They let him become a father. And then they ripped it all away in the cruelest way possible.
Damas knew it was foolish to hope that Mar was alive. He knew Phobos had been right to move on from him -- from them -- and throw herself into operating the orphan barracks of the Cliffside district. But he couldn't let go yet.
So he'd endured. Two bitter years he'd endured. And when he found that scrap of a boy in the desert, only to watch him outdo warriors twice his age, he'd thought maybe things were getting better.
Jak was...hard to define. The kid had seen more combat than some of his most experienced scouts. He carried scars on par with the surviving child-soldiers of Atys's reign. And while he shared their distrust of authority in general, he had none of their understanding of ranks and rulers. He just...treated everyone like they were his equal.
And after the kinds of things he must have experienced in his short life, Jak probably had every right to consider himself the equal of any senior Wastelander.
And for a moment, Damas had foolishly let himself hope that the Precursors could leave well enough alone. That they'd just...let him have this-!
Annnnd then Jak had to go and break the one rule. The one law Damas had given him.
Do not compromise the Arena.
Six other candidates had been doing their third trial against the Leucas Freebooters in that Arena. Six other candidates whose results had to be thrown out, who had to wait for full citizenship, because Jak refused to fight, and Sig had decided to waltz into a trial without checking to see what the purpose of the trial was!
Damas was either going to lose his mind, or go fully rogue and declare war on the Precursors. He couldn't discount either option yet.
Deep breaths, Damas. Deep breaths.
Jak knew not to mess with the purity of the Arena. He knew that, didn't he? He couldn't have gotten this far without understanding how important it was to keep the trial balanced for all candidates! He had to have known the consequences for not only compromising the others' trials and putting them at risk of the Freebooters getting the upper hand on them, but open mutiny-!
He wanted to shake sense into the boy. Maybe smack him upside the head and hope it jarred his common sense loose. But he wasn't likely to get that chance.
Even if Sig had caused this, he had all three amulets. Jak only had two. Those two protected him from a lot, but not public mutiny. A challenge in private Damas could have handled.
He knew Jak -- he thought he knew Jak -- enough to make him understand whatever instruction or decision he had a problem with. He knew how to phrase things to make it sound like all Jak had done was ask for clarification.
He couldn't cover this one up. Not with this many witnesses.
Damas knew the name of the creature thrashing beneath his ribs. Terror.
It clawed at his lungs, coiled around them until he couldn't breathe. Kicked at his heart until he felt every beat like a hammer.
I can't lose him too. I won't lose him too!
He didn't know when, exactly, things had changed between them. Was it before he'd admitted that he'd never had a father to teach him- well, anything? Was it before his second trial, when Phobos had pointedly compared the boy to her own students? Was it her less than subtle hinting that he find his closure in helping the boy he'd dragged out of the mouth of death?
Did it even matter?
You've taken enough from me! You can't have him, too!
It was depressingly easy to mask fear with anger. He had been doing it all his life.
In hindsight, so had Jak.
Damas wondered later if that was why the boy didn't seem afraid. He glared at Damas the whole time, but in those eyes was a challenge: I see through you. You don't fool me.
Damas hoped no one else saw through him.
"What have you done?" he demanded, slamming the butt of his staff onto the stone with a ringing clang.
"One of those Freebooters could have shot you in the head -- shot your comrades -- because you threw down your gun! You placed yourself and them in danger!"
I stopped the trial because of you! Do you not grasp how serious this is?!
"Freebooters?!" Sig exclaimed in surprise before cutting himself off.
"And you, you're a veteran of the Arena! You have no excuse for this!" Damas snarled.
He knew he was going to have to set a punishment. If he didn't, the legislative council would. And he knew which of the two offenders they would favor.
"I shouldn't have to tell you the penalty for sabotaging citizenship trials!"
Sig risked a glance at Jak, then set his jaw.
"You're right," he said in a voice as artificially calm as Damas’s was artificially angry. "I don't have an excuse. I take full responsibility. Don't put this on Jak. He didn't know I'd be there."
Interesting. Sig was trying to protect Jak.
But in doing so, he was trying to force Damas into an impossible decision. One that would haunt him the rest of his life if he carried out the known sentence. After everything Sig had done for him, exile felt like blasphemy.
Damas clearly wasn't the only Spargan who thought so.
"Sire, think about this!" One of the Arena guards set foot on the pathway as if he intended to join the offenders.
"It can't end this way, it can't! Sig is one of us!"
One of his comrades, emboldened by his courage, joined him.
"He just came home from assignment!"
"Stop," Sig warned them, but was ignored.
"Lord Damas, Sig’s served faithfully as your spy in Haven two years! Surely it's not that surprising that he might forget to check a roster!"
"Char is right!" The first guard cried, "It's the newcomer who deserves no mercy!"
You'd better shut your mouth-
Damas knew they were just standing up for a fellow Spargan. He knew that if Jak had all three amulets, they'd be rallying on his behalf, too. But it rankled to see them turn on the boy so quickly.
"Sire, if anyone must be cast into the desert, it's him!" Rikard pointed a shaking finger at Jak.
The words were out before Damas had time to plan his next move.
"Absolutely not! I'm not letting him off that easy!"
Oh rot. He had to follow that up with something.
Think, Damas! Use your shiny, spiny, head for once and think like Obed taught you!
He thought of the old captain of the Krimzon Guard -- when that had meant something, when only the king’s honor guard wore those tattoos -- the man who had raised him when his own family hadn't been interested in such a weak channeler.
There's always another way, whelp."
Then you tell me, Obed! I don't know what to do!
He reached for that memory desperately.
*Sometimes, you face your enemy head-on. And sometimes, you wait until you see a weakness. A loophole."
"You're talking about my brothers again."
"Now, did I say that? Clean the gunpowder out of your ears, whelp, before you get me in trouble!"
A loophole. I can do that. I can still save them-!
Damas sucked in a calming breath through his teeth.
"You do make a point about Sig’s record of service. I would not be king if I did not try to keep you all alive."
Let this work, please, Obed, if you're still watching over me, let this work.
"This once, I will give you the opportunity to salvage this. In your absence, metalpedes have settled in Turquoise Canyon and begun harassing our artificact carriers."
He leaned on his staff and hoped no one saw the tension in his jaw for what it really was: fear.
"I want you to drive into the heart of the nest and take out anything that moves."
He turned on his heel to send a hard stare Jak's way.
"Unlike Sig, you get a choice right now: stay here and forfeit your second amulet, or go with Sig and repay the damage you did today with something that benefits your community."
He prayed Jak could hear the emptiness of his threat. That he would know what Damas needed him to do.
Jak was not technology-friendly. Anything that required precision or aiming was more likely to be used as a blunt force weapon. But put him on a turret gun and the boy was a prodigy. If he went with Sig, the odds of them both surviving skyrocketed.
Jak's glare melted into something uncertain, even a little fearful. He was weighing his options. Good. That would sell the act more to the guards -- who were, like all watchmen, incurable gossips.
Damas saw the moment the light clicked on for Jak. He knew that glint.
Jak nudged Daxter, almost too quickly to be seen, and Daxter nodded. To anyone else, it would seem he was responding to Jak.
Damas knew that Daxter was answering him on Jak’s behalf.
Message received.
"I'm not gonna let you send Sig in there alone."
Damas almost smiled. Defiant to the last. Never change, Jak. Unless it's to learn some common sense-!
"Then perhaps something good can come of this debacle. But understand this, boy: coming back from destroying that nest does not mean this discussion is over. I expect you to turn over your gate pass when you return. You're off scouting for three weeks."
"You're grounding us?!" Daxter shrieked.
"Keep talking, I'll make it a full month."
That one wasn't an empty threat. If he'd thought it would keep Jak out of harm's way, he'd keep him off missions indefinitely!
"We're going," Sig said quickly, and grabbed Jak by the arm before he could protest.
"I'd say good luck," Damas said dryly, "But then, luck won't help you."
which is why I'm sending Jak.
The second the elevator was out of sight, Damas dropped into his throne with the most long-suffering, exasperated groan he'd ever made.
"Someone tell me this is a dream and I'm actually dying of boredom in a financial meeting right now," he said sarcastically.
When no such reassurance arrived from the guards, he dropped his head into his hands with another irritated sound.
In the silence that followed, even over the water wheel they both heard him mutter,
"What am I going to do with that boy?"
Rikard was...not a bad guard. He did his job, and he stuck by his comrades. But he had a big mouth sometimes.
"You...favor the newcomer then? Is it his age?"
Damas aimed a tired glare at him over his fingers.
"Boy, if I told you some of the things I did at his age...."
He groaned again.
"This is boundary-testing. I've seen worse. Rot, I've been worse!"
Silence enveloped them again as the two guards stared at Damas, and Damas stared back. He hadn't meant it to come out like that. After several seconds of owlish blinking back and forth, he said simply,
"Crap. I think I adopted him."
Char turned her head quickly to hide the fact that she was trying very hard not to laugh at the king’s slightly stunned expression.
"Do you...think this will be an adequate lesson?"
Rikard winced. At least he knew he was questioning Damas’s choices in parenting. Er, ruling.
"The nest? Perhaps. It's the confinement that's going to get him." Damas snorted. "You know how Wastelanders are about adrenaline. You ground a kid like that? End of the world."
Mar was exactly the same. Gods, if he's as stubborn as Jak at that age, I'm done for. Might as well write the epitaph now: "died of a heart-attack from idiot sons doing idiot stunts".
"As long as he doesn't set anything on fire in the Arena, sounds good to me," said Char, raising her hands in mock surrender. "Are we clear to return to our posts?"
"Can't set things on fire if I don't let him get two yards away from me, right?" Damas grumbled, but he waved a hand in dismissal.
Once alone, Damas dragged his fingers down his face and muffled a scream in his palm. He was going to get Sig for this. Babysitting. Indefinitely. Or maybe make him handle Arena trials for a while, let him feel that stress! And Jak? Jak was grounded. So, so very grounded. If he had to make Jak sit through meetings with him in the throne room to get it through his head, then so be it. No stunts, no racing, no "the Precursors made me do it" nonsense.
Briefly, he glanced up at the statue of the Oracle in his throne room. Gaudy thing, but it did house a lot of parts of the water wheel.
Damas flipped it off.
#writing prompts#fic prompts#free day friday#Damas’s full name in this branch of aus is Xenodamas. named for one of Menelaus sons along with Nicostratus#he was the Daxter of his family#jak and daxter#dadmas#king damas#alternate version of a scene#jak 3#brain said write something funny and instead i gave Damas so much stress#but in my defense *I* thought it was funny even if he very much did not#jnd ocs#wastelander ocs#if Captain Obed had survived the metalhead war he'd smack Damas upside the head and tell him to go get his kid#luckily for Obed Phobos is perfectly willing to do that in his stead#Jak knows Damas is covering for him. He does *not* know how grounded he's about to be#good luck getting him back to Haven Ashelin. His dad won't sign the permission slip.
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