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bloomeng · 2 days

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I know MXTX is a good author I want to get that out of the way before I get into this. She’s a fantastic (male) character writer and she has a great grasp on interpersonal connections. Though she’s working in an established niche genre she’s still very creative, I think SV especially is evidence of that. But there’s one thing that I just can never seem to get a pulse on, and that’s how much she means to comment on classism.

Author’s intent is always gonna be tricky especially when I have to rely on translated texts and interviews. There’s probably a lot of nuance that I miss, not to mention literally interviews I’ve never seen etc. It also doesn’t help that I haven’t read most of TGCF yet, so I can’t comment on that series, and with SV this conversation is less applicable, so for the sake of what I know best I’m gonna be using MDZS as my main example.

Classism is undeniably at the heart of MDZS’s themes, however for years anytime I analysis the text I’m usually fairly cautious to note that I don’t know if this was intentional. This isn’t because I think MXTX is stupid or can’t handle deep conversations, it’s simply because I can’t tell if it was her intent. On paper it seems obvious; WWX, JGY and XY’s wealth disparities, how privilege drives the plot, literally everything about the Wens as a whole. So much of the novel’s runtime is spent showing us how corrupt the feudal system can be, going so far as to have a protagonist who dies for the cause and two antagonists who are driven to be awful because of their poor circumstances in life. It feels intentional that WWX was granted a certain amount of privilege based on something he was born with (his parents connections) and how easily people turned on him because to the world he is a villain (also he does bad things that he likely wouldn’t have to if he had no need to defend anyone). JGY acting as a foil for WWX feels intentional and I would absolutely consider them foils regardless of intent. With all this in mind I would be inclined to say that yeah, MDZS is commenting on classism, but then WWX marries into the corrupt system and we the audience are supposed to read this as a good thing.

This has always been my biggest qualm with the book. We spend so much time showing how awful this system is and the two people who do anything to try and save it are punished for it by death. Sure WWX is brought back but as soon as he’s in Mo’s body he’s aimless. JGY is of course the secondary villain of the series, but MXTX goes out of her way to make us understand that even when JGY had power, his birth kept him from actually holding any real control, and what control he did have he mostly used to get bad people out of power and make the community better (he was biased and paranoid and vengeful but MXTX’s characters are nothing if not nuanced). Why set all this up to end up in such a contradictory place?

I get that solving such big issues such as classism isn’t easy and we want a happy ending but does MDZS even have a happy ending? None of the mc’s besides LWJ and (supposedly) WWX and LSH and LJY are in good positions by the end of the story. I remember reading MDZS for the first time and thinking that LWJ would fall for WWX because of his radical ideas and eventually see that the Lans were contributing big time to this awful system that favors wealth over everything. Especially because we have a second plot line about whatever was going on with LXC and JGY. And then it just never happens. Instead the Lan sect are painted as ok just because they’re monks. The system wasn’t the issue actually it was the people in charge but don’t worry they’re gone. Life is great now that the most powerful sects are in the hands of a 15 yr old, a man with unchecked anger issues, a council of elders that think corporal punishment is the solution to everything and a man who committed to a life long bit to get out of all forms of responsibility. What could go wrong?

I’ve always thought it was strange and ooc that WWX just accepts going back to Cloud Recesses. His literal incense burner fantasy was a cottage in the woods away from society. He never really warms up to the rigidity or their bland ass food, and he doesn’t even really respect the Lans culture more than he has to. It’s clear he only lives there for his husband and son’s sake. So why am I to believe this is his fairy tale ending?

The only answer I’ve been able to grasp over the years is that the romance genre of the novel overpowers everything else.

This is what brings me back to my original point. I don’t know if MXTX’s intended to comment on class, because if she did I struggle to understand how the ending of the story fits this intention. Which means by default it wasn’t the intention, at least not the priority. I mean ok duh, obvious conclusion, this is a danmei, it’s the bl genre, of course the romance comes first, but that’s not exactly what I’m getting at. You can absolutely have a romance that comments on other things at the same time and I think MXTX’s writing is smart enough to do this, except it fumbled so hard at the end it left me questioning if she even meant to comment on classism in the first place.

A part of me thinks that all of this commentary was just a coincidence of the genre conventions. Cultivator/ historical fantasy tends to just have classism baked into setting, so maybe that’s all it was. Perhaps she was just borrowing what was already there to make interesting character motivations and it wasn’t done with any intention of commenting on any sort of greater societal issue. Which for the record would be ok. I’m not policing what MXTX should write and romance for the sake of romance is perfectly valid, but as a reader I’m allowed to say this particular instant made me dislike the actual romance she set up. These issues in the book made me actively dislike LWJ. I’m on an island about that though. Getting back to my point, I struggle to call this commentary intentional and thus things like WWX and JGY suddenly feel unintentional as well.

I also find MXTX’s own words to be contradictory at times. For instance, she’s mentioned that after SV she found writing more than one couple to be too taxing. When asked if other characters in MDZS were gay she said explicitly they were not, yet both MDZS and TGCF have unofficial side couples that are an inch away from being canon. She’s also mentioned that XY, Sl, and XXC were old characters of hers and were originally going to be the focus of the book, which leads me to believe that they would’ve been a canon love triangle. So I am skeptical when she said all the characters besides WWX and LWJ are straight. I’m not accusing her of lying or anything like that. Tolkien contradicted himself so many times in his letters and essays, it’s sort of par for the course in my opinion. What it does mean though is that I can’t get a read on her intentions. What I can gather from what she tends to focus on in her extras, interviews, and just the fact that this is the BL genre, I’m inclined to believe that a lot of these parallels are unintentional but then I circle back to just how heavy handed it all is and I’m unsure again.

Anyway this was just the world’s longest way to say that actually we don’t have any idea what her intentions are and this is why when I’m analyzing her work I make a point to not put words in her mouth.

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #txt #mxtx #mdzs meta #wei wuxian #jin guangyao

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sundrop-writes · 11 hours

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One Moment Per Episode With Dick Grayson

Season One, Episode Two: "Hawk and Dove"

Summary:

Even though Dick denies that he needs your help, you can't let other innocent people - like Hank, Dawn, and Rachel - get caught in the crossfire of his stubbornness and annoyance toward you.

So when you have a vision of Dick fleeing back to some of the only friends he knows, you don't hesitate to chase him. And yes - you make sure to bring coffee this time.

Dick Grayson x Fem!Powered!Reader. Childhood Friends/Exes to Lovers. Emotional Angst and Bantering/Humor. Set during Season 1, Episode 2.

Word Count: 6,000

DC Titans Masterlist | AO3 Link | Series Masterlist

Detailed warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: the reader uses she/her pronouns - I still want to warn that some people might accuse this character of being an OC/might consider this an OC, but the reader received a great reception in the last chapter, so you guys might like her uniqueness if you read this; as usual with my stories, the majority of pronouns used in the fic are you/yours; and other than clothing style and a scar that informs her backstory, the reader's looks are not described and are left vague (as far as race, body type, hair colour, etc. - those things are not described); the reader character does have powers - the reader character is psychic and can see glimpses of the future in dream-like visions; the reader actually has a vision in this one (and there is more descriptions of her visions in general) (looking back, I wish I would have opened the first chapter on a vision of the apocalypse but oh well); the reader and Dick are 'exes' - their relationship was never official (they never explicitly called each other boyfriend/girlfriend), but they used to have sex often (and they both have feelings for each other that they never openly spoke about), and they are childhood friends, so there is a lot of emotional history there; this fic uses Y/N; this whole chapter (and this whole series, really) involves intense criticism of Dick's character - the Titans version specifically - so if you don't like that and if you don't like the Titans characterization of him, then turn back now; mentions of canon-typical violence; non-graphic descriptions of Dick having an infected wound as a child (speaking to his characterization); mentions of non-canon character deaths - happening in non-canon branching paths in the reader's visions (things that don't come true, but have the opportunity to come true if she doesn't interfere); mentions of gun violence; lots of stereotypical monogamous jealousy going on here - some canon, and some not (not the kind of thing my poly ass typically writes, but it does well with Dick's toxic personality, so I like it) - Hank being jealous of Dick and Dawn's reunion, and Dick trying to evoke jealousy from the reader over his past relationship with Dawn (though I have made it clear in the text that Dick doesn't have feelings for Dawn anymore); Dick accidentally pointing a gun at the reader (because of mistaken identity); this time there is equal pining and horniness between Dick and the reader (mostly because I am a simp for Dick in that navy button down shirt, unf); mentions of Dick's past trauma (the death of his parents) and his PTSD reactions because of it; mentions of Dick and the reader having sex in the past and their sexual desire toward each other and some mild sexual themes, but there is no explicit smut in this chapter (there might be some in future chapters); the reader gets injured in a fight with The Family; mentions of Dawn's canon injuries and subsequent coma; I believe that's it for this part.

A/N: I actually wanna say that this chapter was complete and ready to be edited in my drafts, and because of the comments and feedback I got on the last chapter, I actually went in and made some additions to this chapter. People really seemed to like the banter between Dick and the reader character, and there wasn't much of it in this part, so I made sure to add more of it - because if you guys tell me that you like a certain aspect of a fic, I will play up that aspect in future chapters or in future fics. That is why commenting matters. Writers listen to your detailed feedback and put it into future stories - we aren't just looking for comments to stroke our egos. So if you guys like this chapter and the banter in it, know that you helped shape it from what it originally was!

...

Dick had basically told you to fuck off - he didn’t want to be involved, but he already was.

The events were already set into motion around him, and there was nothing he could do to stop it now. So - rather than turn around and go all the way back home, you had simply gotten a hotel room in Detroit, waiting for him to ask for your help, or waiting for some signal that he would truly need you.

You fell into an easy sleep, and soon - that signal came to you.

…

A rooftop. Two old friends. Tense smiles under a beautifully bright day that didn’t suit them.

“She killed someone?” Dawn nods toward Rachel, who is sitting beside the large dove house that Hank built, looking at the gentle animals in quiet fascination. She feels peaceful in their presence. “She’s just a kid.”

That’s what he wants. He wants everyone to underestimate her.

“Whoever they are, they’ve got people in the department.” Dick replies.

He’s talking about the people who kidnapped her right out from under his nose - the ones who nearly succeeded in making her a ritual sacrifice. Just one of many forces that were coming after her. One of many forces that seek to harm her.

“We needed somewhere safe to regroup.” He adds on. “And think about what I’m gonna do.”

Somewhere safe?

“What about Bruce?” Dawn poses.

Of course Dick wouldn’t go fleeing back to him. Daddy issues. He thinks of Dawn and Hank as his true family. The Titans have always been his true family. Since losing the Circus, it’s the only family that he’s known.

Oh. Somewhere safe. Of course.

Dick visibly shudders at the thought of going back to Bruce. “He’s no good with kids.”

That's an understatement.

“A cop, huh?” Dawn gives him a small grin. “That’s one I never would’ve figured.”

Well, he seeks out order. But he's a stubborn, bull-headed person who demands to be the leader at all times. He’s terrible at following rules that he hasn't made - terrible at falling under someone else's authority. He thinks that being a police officer is bringing forth real justice.

It was never meant to last.

Dick knew this. He doesn’t like admitting his own faults. So, he rushes to change the subject.

“How are you?” He asks Dawn, clearly curious.

It’s almost as though he wants her to say that her life has been notably worse without the Titans. Just like his has been.

It's been too long since he's spoken to her. He loves running without looking back. It’s something that he’s very good at.

“We’re great.” Dawn answers, flashing him a smile. She's insistent on this ‘we' - reminding Dick that she's not alone. She's not a single person anymore. “Hank’s feeling the life a little. Age waits for no man, and all that.”

Of course. This should have been obvious to him, but he’s a little too absorbed in his own problems to consider it.

“How bad?” Dick asks the obvious question.

“Two fractures, three concussions in the last year, and a herniated disc.” Dawn replies honestly.

Dick has been through worse. He acts like it’s nothing, but it’s not. He’s the type of man to attempt to put a band-aid on a bullet wound. While traveling with the Circus, he stepped on a nail once, and tried to hide it from his parents - pulled it out himself and only told them when the wound began to fester and get infected.

Fiercely independent and stubborn, even back then.

“Jesus, Dawn.”

Yet, he acts as though this is surprising. He acts as though this isn’t the norm when you exchange your bodily safety for the safety of others.

“We’re still good out there, Dick.” She presses, sounding as though she is trying to convince herself. They need the team. That’s what’s missing. The downfall of her confidence. “Really good. But one slip-up-”

“You should quit.” Dick declares this firmly, confidently. He always believes his own authority as fact. “You both should.”

Deep down, he knows that both Dawn and Hank will never quit. Like himself, they do not take well to ‘retirement’. They will die doing this job or they will find quieter ways to keep doing good - but they will never rest. Rest feels too selfish.

“That’s the plan.” Dawn replies. It feels like a lie coming out of her mouth, and she smiles around the discomfort of it. “As soon as we take out these gun suppliers he’s obsessed with. One more chance to do some good and then he promised he’s out.”

Suddenly, there was a flash of something else.

Guns. Piles and piles of guns. Dawn being shot in the head from behind. Bright red blood soaking into white hair. A sneak attack while they have their guard down. Hank, overwhelmed by grief, unable to consider his own life as enemies surround him.

He is forcefully pulled off her limp body.

His screams bounce off the concrete walls as he is chained up and tortured.

Things never go according to plan, do they?

Dick gives her a sharp look as he considers the possibilities. Almost as if, due to his paranoia, he too can see the future.

He wants to offer his help, or tell them simply not to go, but Dawn steals the words off his tongue.

“You could help us out.” She remarks brightly.

Yes, he could. He should.

Another flash of similar events.

This ends just as bloody. Similar howls of pain echo through the warehouse. Hank is limping as Dawn supports him, but all three of them are alive. They all make it back to the apartment alive.

Dick is working on his personal definition of justice. It’s not exactly clean. (But it works.)

But still, he hesitates.

“I’m out of the life, Dawn.”

Liar.

Suddenly, Hank appears. He is surprisingly quiet for someone so large.

“The hell are you doin’ here, Dick?” He barks out the name like poison - in a harsh, jutting way that many others have done before him.

Everyone becomes tense. It’s an unwelcome reunion.

“Hank.” Dawn speaks his name curtly - a reminder. Mind your temper.

“I had a situation.” Dick tries to explain himself, being far too vague.

But again, how does one cleanly summarize encountering a young girl with powers like Rachel’s and being so unsure how to handle it? And of course, Dick hates to admit being unsure of himself. He hates to admit needing help. He prefers to phrase things delicately - as though this were a choice, a fun day trip, rather than the desperate fleeing that it truly is.

“Nice little reunion you got goin’ here.” Hank says sarcastically.

“You know it’s not like that.” Dick replies.

He is right, but poor at defending himself against Hank’s flare of jealousy. He is so walled off that he doesn’t dare to admit he doesn’t have eyes for Dawn anymore, even in the slightest. That relationship was nice, but those feelings died out long ago. He simply can’t see her in a romantic light anymore because his heart belongs to someone he believes could never want him in return.

Follies for another time.

“Sure looks like it to me.” Hank grunts in return.

“Hank.” Dawn says his name sharper this time, capturing his attention as he stares at Dick with fire burning in his eyes.

She nods toward Rachel, who is staring at all of them with confusion.

It’s her. She’s the reason why we’re all here. She’s the reason we’re all going to be alive years from now.

“What the fuck?” Hank is confused. Reasonable.

“Can we just go back inside, please?”

Good idea.

…

You woke up in a cold sweat, fumbling around numbly to turn on the lamp of the hotel room that you were staying in. Having your mind widen across the astral plane could be absolutely exhausting.

Of course Dick had gone back to them.

Looks like you were headed to DC.

…

“Dawn, you can’t hit this job. Look at the number of security contractors here-”

“Come on, don’t change the subject.”

Dawn was cut off from speaking any further by a loud thud coming from the front door. Something almost akin to a knock. Hank (who had gone out to pick up some beer) had a key, so - that definitely wasn’t him. Rachel was in the guest room watching Game of Thrones -

Dick and Dawn exchanged a look, both thinking the same thing.

There was someone at the door. Someone unannounced.

And whoever was at the door might be someone looking for Rachel - someone seeking to harm her. In the kind of silent communication that had only been developed over years of working together as a team, Dick gave Dawn a nod and she calmly raised from her chair to go and check on Rachel. And then he grabbed his service pistol, flicking the safety off and cocking it - he swiftly walked to the front door, and while pointing the gun at whoever was outside.

It was a clear warning, and also ready to fire if the person tried barging in. Dick opened the door slowly, and peered into the hallway, his heart beating rapidly in his chest as he waited to see who it was.

You.

It was you.

He let out a sharp breath of relief when the information fully penetrated his brain - the fact that it was you standing there, and not someone intending to do him or Rachel harm. Not an enemy.

You were standing there as innocently as ever, wearing a red dress with a beautiful paisley pattern on it - still sporting those same brown leather boots and that same cozy jacket. Again, you looked so damn beautiful, and it shouldn’t have been comforting, and Dick shouldn’t have been filled with want. You were holding a paper tray full of coffee cups - which you had pressed against your breast for balance, and in the other hand, you had a large brown bag that seemed to be full of pastries from the smell.

“Fuck.” He swore sharply, his arm still holding the gun up stiffly - his body still filled with the conflicting fight or flight response pumping through him, unanswered.

You let out a bright laugh at this, seemingly amused by Dick’s tense aura.

“Your greetings get more pleasant everytime I see you, Dick.” You said, nodding toward the gun that was still extended in your direction.

He let out another tense breath, and forcefully unlocked his forearm then, in order to put the gun down. He put the safety back on and tucked it into the back of his waistband as he opened the door fully to let you inside.

“You really are such a warm and welcoming person.” You added on, sarcasm ripe in your voice.

“You’re an asshole.” Dick replied, still feeling the ache of a fight or flight response tearing through him as he tried to calm down.

He knew that you hadn’t meant to scare him - or maybe you had, seeing as you hadn’t apologized, and seemed to find the whole thing entirely amusing. But at least you weren’t someone that he actually needed to shoot. So that was a plus.

“I am not.” You replied snarkily, stepping past Dick and making your way into the apartment. “I’m nice. You told me that next time I should bring coffee, and I did. That’s the farthest thing from being an asshole.”

“Dick, what’s going on?” Dawn called out, stepping out from the guest room with Rachel hot on her heels.

Realization spread across her features when she saw you placing your goodies on the counter as Dick closed and locked the front door.

“Y/N,” Dawn smiled, walking over to give you a hug after you had set everything down.

You embraced her tightly for a moment before she pulled away with a smile. Dick rolled his eyes at this - still annoyed at your presence. He would never admit it, but he was upset that Dawn was much happier to see you than she had been when he had arrived.

“Another friend?” Rachel asked, hovering at the edge of the kitchen, slightly hesitant of you.

“A good friend.” Dawn confirmed, shining her smile toward Rachel. “Rachel, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is-”

“Rachel. Hi.” You cut off Dawn as she made the introduction, giving a gentle wave toward Rachel while she nodded shyly at you.

“A friend who’s not supposed to be here.” Dick added on gruffly.

“Grumpy grumps don’t get danishes.” You said, holding up the large brown paper bag.

Dick sighed and rolled his eyes, wanting to protest about you distracting from the larger point with pastries - but technically, he had asked you to bring them.

“We’ve got… a medium vanilla latte for Dawn,” You pulled the cup out of the tray, now doling out the coffee orders. It was something that you knew partially from memory, and partially from the omnipotence that came with your powers.

She took it with a quiet ‘thank you’.

“A small black coffee with extra sugar for Rachel.” You offered her the paper cup, and she loosened up on her hesitance toward you, eagerly leaning in to grab it. She smiled at the fact that you knew her preference and didn’t question her for drinking coffee at such a young age.

“Thanks.” She said brightly.

“A large black coffee for grumpy pants.” You said, holding out a cup towards Dick.

When he reached for it, you teasingly swiped it back before you actually gave it to him, and he heaved out another sigh.

“Are you gonna tell me what you’re doing here?” He asked sharply as he popped open the lid on the cup and took a sip.

You decided to ignore him.

“And an Americano for Hank.” You went on speaking about the coffee, rather than answering Dick’s question. “What kind of sociopath drinks watered down espresso anyway?”

“He-” Dawn spoke up, about to tell you that Hank was at the store, not even there to enjoy it while it was still hot. But then, there was the sound of lock and key in the door and it came bursting open.

“Dawn, I got your stupid fru-fru coconut ice cream. I had to go to three different stores for it, and-”

When Hank saw everyone gathered in the kitchen, including the surprising addition of you, he glared as he kicked the door shut behind him.

“Well, isn’t this a real goddamn-”

“A real goddamn summer camp.” You cut him off, literally stealing the words out of his mouth.

“God, I fucking hate it when you do that.” Hank sighed, a visible stiffness running through him - similar to the way Dick looked when you said ominous things. He was creeped out and defensive at the same time.

“Would a pecan cinnamon roll make you feel better?” You posed, pulling a smaller bag out of the bag of pastries and offering it to him.

“You know, you always were my favorite.” He replied, quickly changing his tune as he came to grab the treat from you, a snarky smile spreading across his lips.

Dick reached for the brown bag sitting on the counter to get one of those danishes you had mentioned. You saw this out of the corner of your eye, and you snatched it away from him. You had meant what you said. He tensed up visibly but didn’t argue.

Dawn giggled, pointedly looking between the two of you before she reached into the bag herself - of course, only for you to slide it closer to her.

Dick sighed harshly and tried to move on from the subject. “Now, are you gonna tell me what you’re doing here?”

…

It wasn’t long before Dick sequestered you away, demanding answers. He dragged you into Dawn and Hank’s bathroom, actually. This left Dawn to awkwardly fill the space with Rachel, who was wondering who you were, and was asking more questions as she sensed the tension between you and Dick. Meanwhile, Hank scarfed down his pecan bun without a single care about the circumstances of your visit now that he was fed.

You sat on the edge of the bathtub with your arms crossed, looking at Dick with firm calculation, just like you always did, waiting for him to speak. He shoved his hands in his pockets - something that made his whole stance tense and broad and horribly appealing. It was something that reminded you that he had stayed perfectly fit since you had last seen him - and he had nothing but fine, firm muscles under that shirt.

You forced yourself to focus as he stiffened his jaw and stared right back at you.

“Well?” He scoffed.

“‘Well’ what, Grayson?” You nagged back, knowing fully well what he meant.

He sharply rolled his eyes. That seemed to be a reaction that you invoked from him quite frequently.

“Why the hell did you follow me?” He sighed, his breath too tired to be as fully demanding as he intended.

You wondered when the last time he had slept was. He was someone who wore insomnia strangely well, especially considering that Bruce had driven him to be sleepless since his teen years. It was something that he was accustomed to by now, so he never got the ‘bags under eyes’, ‘half dead’ thing that most other people did when they didn’t sleep. He simply looked like himself.

You hated how much internal destruction and self abuse suited him.

“Who says I followed you?” You replied, your natural instinct toward snark acting up again. “Maybe I just felt like dropping by. Dawn and Hank are my friends, too.”

You almost added on ‘apparently they like me more than they like you, anyway’ - but you didn’t feel the need to kick him so badly when he was already down.

Dick let out a quiet growl, reaching up to firmly pinch the bridge of his nose with his finger and a thumb.

Already, you were wearing his patience thin.

You knew that you couldn’t tell him the truth.

One thing you knew for certain - Dick Grayson was a control freak. It was something that had been carved into him by trauma and fully solidified by years of training with Bruce.

That night, so long ago - having his parents slip out from his grasp when he had been so young, while performing a routine that they were known for courageously doing without a safety net. A routine that they were so certain of and knew so well, having never factored in the act of murderous sabotage that ultimately killed them - it made Dick want to obsessively control every single aspect of his life and everyone else’s around him.

Not only did he want to help those around him avoid danger, but he wanted the people around him to behave exactly how he imagined that they should at all times.

He was constantly on the lookout for frayed ropes - for the unexpected variables that might be the downfall of someone that he loved. He felt that his parents’ death had been his fault, that he hadn’t been diligent enough that night, so he needed to be hypervigilant in every other aspect of his life to keep more people from dying.

It was part of the reason that you bothered him so much. You were always unexpected - always a wild variable that he had to chase down. Whether it was your actions, your words, or your reactions to the things that he did and said - he felt like he could never predictably nail you down, and he absolutely fucking hated it. (It was probably also one of the reasons that he got such a fantastic release from fucking you - but that was a box of emotional issues he was not yet willing to open.)

But - being the control freak that he was - he liked to try and control the outcome of your visions.

Yes, you did see the future in your visions. And yes, the version of that future that you saw could sometimes be changed. It was part of the reason that you tried to interfere to stop bad things. You had seen many things before that had never come true - both good things and terrible things.

But you had warned Dick time and time again that the future is not random. You never saw simple flashes of random possible outcomes and one of those realities might come true. No - you saw people’s intentions. You saw the results of the choices that people make.

If someone intended to commit a murder - you would see death. If they changed their mind - you would see life. If someone interfered to stop that murder - the future could change in a lot of strange ways because of it.

Life is a winding path with a lot of branches to it, and when someone makes a choice, some of those branches die off.

Dick Grayson’s controlling, all mighty, ‘need to interfere’ mindset certainly had a way of changing the future. He constantly felt the need to use the information from your visions to force people into making the ‘right’ choice. But sometimes, on the path we choose to avoid our fate, we run headfirst into it.

You were never going to tell him - but Dick and his controlling nature had gotten people killed before.

You had discovered over time that it was better to simply not tell him things - to hold back information until it was the right time for him to hear it.

“Do you actually enjoy being irritating?” Dick rasped harshly at you. “Or is it just something that you’re good at?”

You shrugged. “Probably both.”

He let out another stiff breath.

“Look, I’m here for Rachel.” You said, trying to correct course. “She’s mourning, she’s confused, her powers are out of control. She needs someone to help guide her. Someone who might be able to show her how to keep her powers under control.”

“O-kay.” Dick said, clearly dubious, not fully convinced. He looked at you with his brows firmly knit, and you felt the need to further convince him.

“Look, I’m not stalking you if you think that’s what it is.” You added on. “I had a vision, I saw you and Dawn on the roof-”

“Okay, okay, I get it now.” Dick smirked sarcastically, crossing his arms firmly over his chest, making his biceps bulge inside of his button down shirt in a way that was far too appealing.

Focus - you reminded yourself. Focus.

“What?” You replied, genuinely confused.

“You don’t like me spending time with Dawn.” He declared, continuing to smirk at you as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

More than anything, this left you utterly fucking confused.

“What?” You chuckled, repeating the word like a gaping parrot - a nervous, awkward edge in your voice.

You liked Dawn. She was one of your best friends.

And you didn’t give a rat’s ass if Dick and Dawn spent time together. Especially because you knew that Dick coming here was him fleeing to a friend while in crisis, not him looking for a hookup. Especially not while Dawn and Hank were together. Dawn was nothing if not intensely loyal.

And nothing would have happened while Hank was in the apartment. You had never seen Dick and Hank fight - but Hank was just a bit bigger, and because of his upbringing, he had absolutely no qualms about fighting dirty, even when he was fighting a friend. So you knew who you would bet on in that fight.

So - what the hell was Dick talking about?

Even with your strange sense of omnipotence, you couldn’t tell at the time - Dick was baiting you. Hard. He wanted you to flip out, to get jealous.

It was the emotionally stunted thing to do, but he wanted to see some sense that you cared.

At least Hank going full cave-man mode upon seeing Dick meant that he thought what he had with Dawn was precious and worth protecting. It meant that he saw Dick as a threat.

When you continued to stare at Dick with nothing but confusion, gaping like a fish, he flailed, realizing what a terrible move this was. And for some stupid reason, instead of dropping the subject altogether, he dug himself deeper into the hole.

“You know, the thing with me and Dawn is all in the past.” He said, mentally squirming, waiting to see how you would react. “There’s really nothing going on between us.”

“Yeah.” You smoothed your lips into a firm line, completely uncaring about this line of conversation. “Good for you.”

Perhaps mistaking the annoyance in these words as the jealousy that he was so urgently seeking, his tone completely changed then. Like a child throwing a tantrum, he had gotten the negative energy that he wanted from the interaction - so he kept on digging in.

“Okay, you know what?” He snapped. “If you’re not gonna tell me why you’re really here, then I’m just gonna have to assume that you’re bullshitting.”

“Oh, I’m bullshitting?” You replied, resisting the urge to break into a grin.

He had seen solid proof of your powers on many occasions. He had seen you do things that couldn’t be proven by science. So why was he only accusing you of ‘bullshitting’ right now?

“Yes.” He replied stoically. “You didn’t see anything - you don’t actually know anything. You don’t know shit. You’re probably just guessing, and making shit up as you go along and hoping people will believe you.”

“Okay.” You shrugged.

You were unphased by this declaration. You knew by now to trust your visions - even if Dick was revoking that trust. You knew that you had solid information, and if you didn’t follow it, the lives of the people that you loved were at risk.

You guessed that this was just Dick throwing a tantrum because you wouldn’t share that information with him.

Dick ground his teeth. Unconsciously, he was still intensely frustrated that he hadn’t gotten more of a reaction out of you. Whether it was the information that he was looking for - or some greater sense of anger or urgency that he felt when you were around. But he needed something. He needed to know that you still felt something because of him.

You were always so damn calm. Far too calm for his liking.

“You’re just guessing.” He pressed on. “It’s not that hard to know I would come here. You just fucking followed me because-”

“So you’re saying that all the military tactics Bruce taught you never paid off, and you’re intensely predictable when fleeing under pressure?” You chuckled, pointing out the flaws in his own logic.

Dick flinched.

He hated how uncomfortable your words made him. Squirming in that discomfort - he went low.

“And you’re admitting that you’re just a bullshit carnival psychic like your mother was?”

It was a tender wound.

The moment that your face fell - shifting from mild amusement at your own joke to intense pain and hurt - Dick’s insides recoiled with regret.

“Y/N-” He sighed.

“Nope.” You cut him off sharply, shoving past him.

He let you, finally allowing you to escape the tense air of the bathroom so you could go out and properly catch up with Dawn while drinking your coffee.

…

No matter how angry you were with him, you couldn’t let him die.

Even as you laughed and chatted with Dawn, and got to know Rachel a bit, you couldn’t get the flashes of horrifying possible futures out of your mind.

…

Where is Dick Grayson? Where is Dick Grayson? Where is he?

A crazed family singing showtunes. A skipping rope being used as a whip - knives plunging through flesh. Torture. Pain. Screams.

You saw Dick fleeing with Rachel in the night, believing that he had made the right decision to protect her. Believing that he was keeping you, and Dawn and Hank safe. You heard a sharp screech of tires as he was cut off on a dark backroad by an old-fashioned station wagon with wooden paneling. A car crash. Dick flew through the front windshield - and as he bled to death, his last moments were spent hearing Rachel’s cries for help as she was dragged from the car.

Bad decision.

Dick spoke about ‘some job’ that Hank and Dawn were planning and instantly, there were flashes through your mind of Dawn shot in the head, laying on the floor in a pool of her own blood - Hank’s screams of anguish as he was chained and tortured.

They need his help.

Why were you there?

To stop those bad decisions. Hopefully.

You couldn’t explain it all to Dick - you couldn’t play it all out for him so simply. He was a control freak. If you told him all the details, then he would insist on making a choice. He would insist on running the play. And he might make one of those stupid choices. You had to avoid making the same mistake that your mother had. Don’t give those stubborn, powerful men too much information and trust them to use it wisely - because they most likely won’t.

“You should go with them.” You told Dick, your voice curt - the first time that you had acknowledged him in hours.

He seemed shocked by you even looking in his direction, let alone speaking to him after the comment he had made.

“Look, Y/N-”

“I’ll stay with Rachel.” You added on.

When Rachel eagerly agreed to this, it seemed to seal the deal for him.

He acted as though it was his plan all along.

Whatever made him feel better about it.

…

You and Rachel ended up on the rooftop. She gravitated toward the doves - she found them calming, as she told you.

“How do you know Dick?” She asked you, clearly unable to keep down that curiosity that was naturally biting at her.

With the cool night air whipping at your cheeks, you found it easy to be vulnerable with her.

“We grew up together.” You told her.

“You were a part of the Circus?” She asked, giving a small amused grin at the thought.

“Yes.” You confirmed, mirroring her smile. Sometimes the nostalgia was painful, but unlike Dick, you didn’t try to forget it. “My mother was a fortune teller - a psychic. She was considered one of the best. People would come from miles around, or even follow the Circus from place to place just to have their palm read by her.”

Rachel laughed at this, clearly amused.

“So what - she had a big crystal ball, and she would read the lines on your hand to tell you how long you’re gonna live?”

You shrugged.

“Something like that.” You confirmed.

There was a beat of silence. Knowing what Rachel was going through, you felt the need to confess something to her.

“My mother - she died when I was about your age.” You told her, knowing that it was likely something she needed to hear.

It can always be comforting to know that you’re not alone.

Rachel looked at you with large, piercing eyes - heavy grief still dancing there. It was still so fresh. Your heart ached for her.

“What happened?” She asked.

With her powers, you were surprised that she didn’t already know.

But you thought it apt to explain it to her.

“My mother didn’t just do card tricks and read palms.” You said. “She was special. Special like us, special.”

A distinct look of dawning came across Rachel’s features.

“She had powers.” She said softly.

You nodded.

“So, wait - are these kinds of powers… genetic?” She asked eagerly, seeming to perk with interest at this.

Suddenly, a million long-dead questions about a father she had never known overtook her like a tidal wave.

Obviously, her mother had been perfectly normal. Had she gotten her powers from her father? If she found him, would he be able to tell her who she truly was?

“I suppose so.” You answered meekly, hating that you didn’t know for certain. “I hate that I can’t say for sure.”

Rachel’s face fell at this.

Then, something occurred to her.

“How did your mom’s powers kill her?” She asked.

“It - it wasn’t really her powers that killed her.” You began to explain. “It was more… the way she used them.”

Rachel looked at you expectantly, and you continued.

“Before she died… she saw what happened to Dick’s parents in a vision. How they died.” You explained. “She tried to stop it, and the people who were intent on killing them weren’t too happy about it. So they killed her too.”

It was a fate that you were constantly trying to avoid - stumbling into death while trying to save those that you loved. It was one of the reasons that you put up with so much attitude from Dick Grayson. You would much rather have him alive and giving you lip than have him dead because of some mistake that you made.

Rachel looked pensive for a moment - watching the birds as they rested in their large cage.

“Is that why you’re helping us now?” She asked quietly. “You’re trying to keep us from getting killed?”

“I’m doing my best.” You remarked, anxious hope ripe in your voice.

…

Clustering voices. A tense argument.

It was broken up by -

“Hello there.”

The faux sweetness of a dangerous stranger.

Fear shook you. The sound gave you a sense of deja vu. You recognized them from a far off vision.

Before you could warn the others, it broke into a brutal fight.

You used all the training you had, but you were distracted by Dick being thrown off the roof. Something hit you in the head, hard - you heard Dawn cry out for help, and you saw a cluster of blonde hair and limbs as she went flying.

Rachel screamed and reached out for you and you desperately reached back - you were dizzy and blinking heavily and didn’t even remember being knocked down.

“Dawn! Dawn!”

You heard Dick shouting urgently and then you realized in horror that she might be dead.

Dawn.

You were sluggish and felt wetness on the side of your face that must have been blood, but you forcibly peeled yourself off the ground, stumbling toward the sound of Dick’s voice - toward the fire escape. You tripped down a few of the stairs, your blurred eyes only focused on the shape of them - him crouching over her body, blonde hair splayed across the pavement, limp legs.

She’s not dead.

She can’t be.

When you made it to her, you fell to your knees beside her. With the last of her energy, she locked eyes with you.

Fear. Anxiety. Terror. Trust.

She knew that you would help her.

Her eyes drifted closed, and Dick panicked.

“Dawn, Dawn!”

“Be quiet.” You barked at him.

You needed to concentrate.

“You’re telling me to shut up?” He griped back, his fear and panic foaming up through his lips as intense anger directed towards you. “Shouldn’t you have seen this coming? What happened to-?”

“I don’t appreciate the attitude.” You ground out, looking up at him to find nothing but pure fear staring back at you. “Now - Shut. Up.”

You placed your hand gently onto Dawn’s forehead - you concentrated hard, focusing your powers on her. You couldn’t do anything about her physical injuries, but you could preserve the parts of her that mattered the most. You could keep her spirit alive. You could lock her memories away in a safe place so that she would be whole when her body healed.

“What kind of voodoo bullshit is she doing?” Hank huffed out, having just made it down the fire escape himself.

“Be quiet and let her work.” Dick told him, waving a dismissive hand in Hank’s direction.

For once in their lives, both of the men sat in silence, actually deferring to you and following your lead.

They trusted you to do something good for her, rather than doing more harm.

...

A/N: If you want to be tagged in future parts of this, you can sign up for my DC Titans taglist - just let me know that you want to be a part of that taglist by commenting below, and keep in mind that I have taglist rules. Also, I only have a general taglist for DC Titans fics, not a specific taglist for this series because this series updates sporadically and not on a schedule.

Please do not ask me when this fic will be updated - this fic does not have a schedule.

While this is technically part of a 'series', each chapter is meant to be enjoyed on its own. The overarching plot of the series is still that of the original Titans show, and I won't be making any major changes to the canon of the show - I just intend to showcase smaller emotional moments between the reader character and the canon characters. This is something I want to work on casually in the background between working on other things. This fic is not my main focus, and I will not be rushing to update it or complete it.

To me, this fic is a nice slow casual walk through the woods to enjoy the scenery, rather than a marathon with a clearly outlined route and a specific finish line as other series have been for me in the past.

Comments and reblogs are encouraged, and I am thankful for them - but please keep those comments focused on the actual content of the series - it's plot, the characters, their dynamics, even predictions for the plot of future chapters are okay, as long as you are not asking when the fic will be updated. Please do not spam me asking me to update this or asking me when I will update this - because I am not in a rush to do so. I have a lot of ideas for this series that I am excited about, but I want to work on it slowly and casually because I don't want to lose my enthusiasm for it and I know that rushing will take that enthusiasm away.

If you enjoyed this - great, thank you, I am so glad that you do. But if you expect this to be updated weekly like a factory pumping out stuff on a clearly outlined schedule - then you are in the wrong place. If you are expecting constant updates of this fic and you will be disappointed if it doesn't get updated regularly - you should just block me now and pretend you didn't read it.

But if you are a patient person - feel free to read and enjoy my other Titans works while I am working on updates for this (and working on other exciting things). I particularly recommend reading Your First Kiss With Dick Grayson to scratch that emotionally constipated Dick Grayson itch if this fic left you feening. Also, feel free to send me a message telling me what you thought of this fic or other fics in general.

Also - if you can't get Dick Grayson off your mind - my requests are open. And I would really love some requests for shorter fics with Dick, like headcanons or reactions. Otherwise, comments are appreciated and I really hope that you have a great day!

#sundrop writes #dc titans #titans fanfiction #dc titans fanfiction #dick grayson #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x y/n #dick grayson x female!reader #dick grayson x you #bat boys x reader #dick grayson imagine

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artisdrama · 2 years

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“right now, i feel useless. no, i've always been useless. i never exist. i have no feelings. i don't freaking have anything left within me. i can't take myself anymore, vegas.”

we all kept saying that vegas and pete are parallels to each other to what the same kind of abuse can lead to. it’s almost tiring how many times we analyzed how vegas weaponized his trauma by turning into an abuser in self defense, but we were a little blinded by pete’s smile because we genuinely believed pete was always being completely open about everything. his tattoo says it all, doesn’t it? no legacy is so rich as honesty. didn’t he share with vegas what his dad did? didn’t he follow what his heart told him? isn’t he gentle, a good friend, a good subordinate? that must be who he is.

vegas craves attention, acknowledgement, and he thinks he never received it because he never accomplished anything. pete did, though. he won the fight, and yet his dad still hit him. it doesn’t matter how good he is or how much he contributes to his surroundings, he’s never actually seen. it doesn’t matter how much effort he puts, how much emotional labor he puts in his relationships, he’s still secondary to their choices, a supporting character. it’s not just vegas that was never recognized as a person, it’s pete too.

it’s pete because he can disappear and people that he holds dear to him wouldn’t even notice until someone dreams about him. because he keeps being the wingman to others, but no one ever falls for him. he solves the problems for everyone, but not only that, his efforts always turn into more responsibility since he’s so reliable - never, i don’t know, a vacation i guess? his work has no emotional return to him, and while he’s loved by tankhun he’s still a subordinate and not a friend. it’s his boss, and he has no say in their relationship like the other does. “my most understanding bodyguard”. pete understands tankhun and shows his concern for him through how he takes care of the other, but tankhun loves pete exactly for that, and not for him. no one sees the true him.

he puts his heart in everything. yes, the honesty is there. and he does everything without expecting anything in return, because he knows that doing the right thing sometimes isn’t rewarding. that doesn’t mean he doesn’t crave recognition, it’s just that he doesn’t feel he’s ever going to receive the type of recognition he so desperately wants. and he can’t show this side to the others, because then he will be a burden and not fulfill the role he wants. he honestly wants to make everyone around him feel ok - and he’s fine with that, in some levels. he thinks helping others is rewarding because you can see the smile in their faces after it.

“i’m sorry. i aim to spread more smiles than tears.”

he’s content. it’s enough to keep him going, to inspire him to keep making others around him happy, because if anything that’s the only thing he knows. he has to live each day by itself, because if he sees the big picture he’ll feel like a side character to his own life. but deep inside, even though he has come to terms with his father’s abuse, he can’t distance himself from the violence. it’s his whole environment, it’s how he learned relationships work, it’s thrilling - and makes him feel alive. after being successful in destroying vegas’ plan, he’s so high on his accomplishment that the torture is almost a recognition on how well he fucked up vegas, and he can take it with a smile in his face.

but after all the violence and the torture vegas puts him through, he still can’t turn his caring persona of, because he’s so used to finding patterns in people in order to make them smile that he easily cracks the code to what’s vegas’ problem is. it’s almost instinctive at this point to only comfort him, not because he actually feels for vegas but because he is simply like that. he opens up just enough for vegas to understand that he’s being seen, but not enough for vegas to see him. he says just the right things at the right time, never giving information about himself or opening up. his goal was never to have vegas obsessed with him, but just to live each passing day and try to handle it as best as it could.

but vegas gets obsessed with him - actually, the idea of him. vegas is so caught up with the idea that someone understood him and didn’t judge him harshly that he completely ignores that pete is not “someone” in the sense of an abstract concept in his mind, but a person entirely separate. he starts seeing pete as an extension of him, projecting his feelings and his desires into the other. but this obsession shows up in the form of little actions of care and attention (in vegas’ way, of course), in the sexual tension, and this desire is so intense that it moves pete’s heart.

because, for a second, pete wants to believe that all that intensity and emotion is for him. that vegas actually saw who he is and understands, and is desiring him. when vegas tells him he’s sexy, is he saying that because he sees pete’s body and thinks he’s attractive or because the sex they had and pete’s submission is sexy to him? vegas proceeds to only talks about him and his feelings, but he never asks pete how he feels. he opens up - “i thought i was a freak”, but it’s not followed by a “have you ever felt something like that, pete?”. vegas finally asks him “how did you survive in this environment?” and pete’s finally smiling, asking back “why, do you think i’m a good guy?”. he’s expecting vegas to give an actual insight on it. but vegas shows how little he understands pete telling him he’s “stupid” - pete is far from stupid and he knows. and it’s not just bickering, because pete realizes that vegas truly believes he has nothing going on inside his mind, that he’s just what vegas wants him to be.

after that, he slaps himself in the face to wake up - vegas isn’t seeing him as a person, he needs to leave. that life is not what he wants. but then why did he say yes to him? why did he kiss vegas? of course there was a previous build-up of desire between the both of them, but what was that made him give in? he has never been into subspace before and he’s still trying to understand himself and what he wants, but right now he’s completely sober. and he blames himself a lot for everything. but when vegas gets inside the room mad, he’s doing it again - he’s trying to help vegas.

vegas still doesn’t sees pete, only what he wants to see. so it’s easy for him to simply act up and vent all his violence on the other when pete shows again how understanding he is (and he switches his emotions as if he wasn’t, a few hours earlier, putting all the care in the world making a dish for him). vegas still believes in what he told pete in the last episode before they kiss, that pete likes that side of him and that it turns him on, so it never occurred to him that acting like that again could have any other effect. not only that, but the line about them sleeping (which was already making pete dwell on self hatred for what he did and what he desired) finally snaps pete, because not only he isn’t in the mindset to enjoy that type of violence, but also because he’s done - he understands everyone, even vegas, but no one ever tries to understand him.

vegas’ obsession isn’t seeing him, but just a toy that will behave how he wants and like him the way he wants. pete wants to be desired intensely, madly and deeply, but he knows this isn’t what’s actually going on. it’s all a lie he’s telling himself, because he had a hard time coming into terms that vegas’ liked what he provided for him - comfort - and not him. he’s once again secondary to someone else’s feelings, and it doesn’t matter what he wants and what he likes, what his pain is, he’s not seen. and now, being punished by something he didn’t do, unable to even comfort vegas with his words, he’s useless too.

pete’s so done that he asks for vegas to kill him, and vegas is so out of his mind that he goes on to grab a knife and actually threaten to do it. vegas isn’t thinking properly but he does think this is just pete’s usual bratty behavior, and in his mind is something that can easily be solved like every other instance between them where he plays abuser with pete and then leaves. but this time, pete’s finally honest about his feelings. he’s done with everything, and he’s done with vegas treating him like that. he feels like shit, and there’s no point on keeping with this if he will still be treated like that. he tells him, he’s lost his humanity. he’s not living as a person, but as something. in this case, vegas’ plaything.

after all that, vegas sees the huge mistake he’s making, and starts begging - and that touches pete’s heart again. because vegas is begging him so desperately to not kill himself, that he’s sorry and that he needs pete so much, that pete falters a little. he knows that vegas still isn’t truly seeing him (if anything, he’s just finding out about him) but the feeling of having him begging for pete to stay with that face creates a bitter taste in his mouth. he wants vegas to desire his true self like that, and not the character vegas created in his mind. and that reinforces pete’s desperation either dying or running and leaving.

“i’m a human, vegas. i have feelings.”

vegas insists on needing him, which pete finally throws in vegas’ face that is not him that he needs but a mirror. he keeps projecting onto him, and never asking what pete needs, treating him like a pet. and pete shows him - if he actually needs him as a person, why the chains? why aren't his needs being met too? and vegas begs him to promise he won’t leave him. the fact is, pete can’t lie to vegas at this point, because he’s opened his heart so much he can’t pretend anymore he would do something like that. and he touches vegas’ face, because deep down he’s still conflicted with all those feelings, but he finally chooses to put himself first and knocks vegas out.

and while they’re apart, vegas never leaves his mind. even though he’s loved by everyone and everyone is grateful he’s back, there’s still a lingering feeling that he only ever felt being with him, and he misses it so much. because now that he had the taste for the obsession, for being almost consumed by someone else that wants them so badly, how can he go back to his normal and mundane relationships? he’s numb, both traumatized by what happened and dwelling in guilt because even though everything was so terrible he wants a little bit of it back. and he feels the shame of the intoxication he feel, unable to open up to anyone about that. him lying and denying to tell porsche is not only because he wants to protect vegas, but because he wants to protect himself from acknowledging that he doesn’t despise him as much as he wanted to, as he should do.

“get the hell out of my life.”

pete screams, but he’s unable to shoot the gun and end it all. when vegas takes the gun to his chest and screams, pete has an automatic reaction of fear that doesn’t go unnoticed by him, but he keeps pushing to try and make his point. but pete can’t say anything, just cry the tears he has been holding all throughout the episode since he left vegas’ house. and again, he is only truly honest in that moment where he lets himself fall to the ground from how painful everything is, and vegas is comforting him. the worst, for him, is that he’s allowing once again vegas in his space, touching him intimately and taking care of him. and his hand goes trembling to the other’s face, unsure if it’s the right thing to do or not, because he’s pained by everything that went down and all the abuse - but also a little bit glad that vegas is still so obsessed with him that he’d follow him there. he’s conflicted because he can’t reconcile the idea that he wants vegas and, maybe, vegas wants him too, because it’s never the case. just like he said, he’s useless, has never existed, has no feelings, no humanity. there’s no point in hoping that vegas would do that to him. but he wants to believe in him so much that he can’t stop crying.

#vegaspete #vegaspete meta #wow i WROTE for this one like . dammit don't you have a thesis to write to the 7th sir #i said i had many pete thoughts that i was waiting for the next episode to be released and i am glad to announce that i was right! yeeeee #but fr i am soooooo obsessed with this episode and everything and all the feelings i'm definitely a new human #kinnporsche the series #adding no pics because i'm lazy to screenshot everything #vegas kornwit theerapanyakun #pete phongsakorn #vegaspete analysis #also i feel i need to at that this is pete's inner monologue and not the truth per say #we know vegas' side of the story is different but still i think it's important to state that #pete has no way to read vegas mind so that's what he's working around... and it's a whole mess #pete doesnt know about the little things like making a dish from his home to him and never will so he thinks vegas is ignoring his humanity

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