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terrence-silver · 24 days

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I'm feeling pretty blue today - what would CK Terry (or any TIG characters you feel like writing about!) to do earnest, sincerely cheer up someone they love?

I wish you lots of elation and happiness. Hope these help. ❤️

---

― When Jan Valek met beloved he already knew it'll be a moment he'll memorize and cherish for the rest of eternity. He already knew beloved will be something or someone that'll bring only true goodness into his life. He equates them to the light of the sun he and his kind were bereft of for centuries. He equates them with everything that's still noble, genuine, warm and sweet about humanity at large even though he doesn't view other mortals in the most of favorable light exactly. He has this incredibly exalted and romantic opinion of them, so, oh, the idea they'd ever feel blue about anything when he puts them all the way up there with the stars --- well, it strikes him. It is like witnessing a beautiful flower being sad about something; it cannot be conceivable because it isn't the flower's intended purpose in the grand scheme of creation. He's all affection and worship, collecting every tear from beloved's face with his lips and fingers, hugging them to himself with both hands and hiding them in his cape. He coos them. Caresses them. Hides them. Reminds them that in his infinite glory, God didn't create them for moments of sorrow. He's created them for joy. In fact, such is the depth of Jan's comfort and consolation of beloved that it telepathically revibrates through the entire coven and all his children feel it too. Beloved's not only loved, they're embraced. He remains with beloved instead of retreating underground when daytime returns, finding some dark, concealed place where he can hold them for as long as needed, time truly being meaningless to him. He could do this for decades if decades was what it took. Centuries, even, if need be. Ultimately, he waits it out with beloved and his arms around them don't unclasp until he literally senses their blood, scent and pheromones sing out with a change of mood before beloved themselves even realizes that they're no longer quite as upset as they were before.

― Terry McCain would downright willingly and tactically make a fool out of himself it meant beloved will simply...oh...you know...crack a smile for him? Why is that? Well, when you're a hardened, hot-headed Chicago Detective who has a tendency of taking things too far, to the point of utilizing excessive force during investigations and arrests, the sensitivity training doesn't really come all that naturally and so he counter-acts this by goofing around, in ways, even if that means getting beloved an adopted fuzzy pet out of the blue, enduring a scolding even when he doesn't give them space to breathe because he wants them to tell him what's wrong or waiting in front of their locked apartment door for hours when they want to be left alone, notwithstanding the fact he's also likely to just, you know, break in. He will be nosy. He will be invasive. He will employ his own professional deformation and investigate to get to the bottom of beloved's bad mood in the off chance they refuse to tell him, but one thing is absolutely certain; He will never, ever, ever leave them alone during this bad time, even risking being ridiculous and possibly overbearing doing so. Which means beloved can expect a takeover of their own life during the period of their depression. They wake up, they find McCain prepping up breakfast, wrapping his oversized coat or scarf around on a cold evening walk, tucking them in next to the fireplace and being fully domestic, threatening to knock some joker's teeth if the cause of their upset came from another person, or hey, he might just jokingly bring up doing so to deliberately appear like some dangerous wiseguy and hopefully amuse beloved through his antics. He'll try so many things that statically, something's very likely to just entertain beloved enough, even if begrudgingly, to have them snort through their nose with laughter at him faced with a funny anecdote from his First Communion.

― Gus Travis is paranoid and he is convinced beloved's current bad mood has something to do with him and taking it a step further than that, he gets this agitated impression that their depression is a prelude to an array of more serious underlining issues that remain yet unspoken; like them wanting to leave him or at least really seriously pondering it just about now. That they're deeply unhappy by his side and if he doesn't do something now to prevent it, history will only repeat itself and he'll lose someone he loves. Again. Would he really survive that crap twice? He doesn't think so. All the signs are there, after all, with his past bad experiences only further exacerbating the issue to the degree that depending of how blue beloved is feeling and for how long, Gus might just take it as far as really seriously telling them they should leave. Run away together. From this life. From his associates. From his gang. His syndicate. Sever all ties to them. Cut loose. Break out on their own. Turn a new page. Start a new life elsewhere. Far, far from here. Head out to sea on a boat if they have to. Not say anything to anyone. Pack up the basics. Hop in their car and go. Just go. Meaning that Gus Travis is genuinely probably willing to quite literally erase everyone and disappear if it could potentially bring contentment to beloved and ensure that they'll stay together. Just the two of them. Man could very well be halfway through the State of Washington on an escape spree before the conclusion might arrive that he did not, in fact, have to practically run away to make beloved happy. A kind word would've sufficed. Maybe a hug. But, Gus is a man of aggressive impulse, with an impassioned, streetwise nature to boot. His dryland mermaid is sad and he's expected to just...handle it in stride without shooting someone in the head? Yeah, no. Before anyone puts two and two together, Gus and beloved are too far gone to ever be found, headed somewhere that is bound to make them happy.

― Terry Silver does anything to cheer up someone he loves. And I do mean anything. Therein lies the danger of someone he cares for being even slightly upset or depressed, because he'd stop at nothing. There's no boundaries. Nothing is too ridiculous. No such thing as 'too far'. And no, I don't just mean throwing excess money and acts of service on a problem until it goes away --- I mean, he'd literally abuse someone to make beloved laugh. He'd hurt someone. He'd hurt whoever hurt them; whoever he feels fucked up their sunny disposition because trust and believe he's ready to have an enemy. Just point at one. If you don't, he's capable of inventing one himself. Throw an expensive car in the mix, sure, as a cherry on top of a cake. Does beloved want real estate? A company? A private island? Do they want him to buy out half of Los Angeles? Do they need a lavish vacation to fix their mood? An encouraging pep talk worthy of a Sensei? Should he knock someone's teeth out while they watch? Should he avenge them to remind them just how adored they are? Should he kill? Drag someone's bruised and beaten body and drop them off at beloved's feet as homage like a devoted blood hound would? Should he fuck beloved? Please, kiss, lick and work their body until their physique registers it as happiness? His mind will be working overtime --- the gears in his brain spinning and spinning and Terry will be likely to cheer himself up at the prospect of all the things he could do. He giggles and snickers as he plans. It is honestly just safer to tell this man what it is likely to make you content so he can go ahead and just do it for you because if his mind wonders too far in its deviousness, he'll do some pretty unhinged things in the hope it'll cheer beloved you up. But, point here is; he'd do just about anything, yes and beloved will probably never be as upset and in need of uplifting that will ever match the distance Terry Silver is willing to go to uplift them.

― Going to go out on a limb and saying Cash doesn't immediately know how to cheer up beloved or anyone as for that matter because this is simply not something he ever frequently does or has to do. His line of work or lifestyle doesn't exactly demand this of him --- in fact, even when he himself's in a gloomy mood, he merely fixes it with a quick beer and just shutting the heck up about it until it goes away. But, just because it is underexplored, new territory for him doesn't mean he doesn't care to the point he's thrown off of balance, pacing back and forth around the room, absolutely exasperated, an annoyed hand in his hair, feverishly thinking of what he should do, his mood sinking to dark depths right alongside beloved. He doesn't sleep. He doesn't talk. Doesn't do anything. He can't think straight. He's capable of spending days in front of beloved's room, just sitting there like a watchful warden in a state of limbo, waiting for a single word from them, a sign, a signal, a hint, anything that could indicate they're doing better now, and until he gets that, he might as well rot into the arm chair he's nestled into for all he's concerned. Cash takes whatever's going on very much to heart even though it isn't outright visible or easy to immediately tell at all times, but one order out of beloved's lips is enough to put him into action there and then without a single bit of protest out of him. If beloved said 'Rob a bank. It'll make me happy.' man outright would do just that entirely wordlessly. He'd be there getting his gun, gloves and mask ready, making the necessary phone calls, gone within the hour and already back home by the time they've woken up from their daily depression nap. He cares immensely. He doesn't always know how to express it or act on it, but even when beloved's in an infinitely better mood it'll be days and even weeks before Cash wholly recovers from whatever it was that bothered them, even if he doesn't really talk about it.

― Jack Blaylock, or rather, Timothy Calloway sits down and genuinely talks to beloved about it. Yes. Talks. Although never doubt this man too would be prepared to go to some truly harrowing lengths to merely see the slightest shadow of a smile on beloved's face, I get this impression he fixes them a warm beverage, makes them a lovely, intimate meal for two and tucks in by their side on a cozy, quiet evening instead, the lights of the city sparkling in the distance through the windows because civilian problems require civilian solutions and beloved's a civilian, first and foremost; so, he approaches their sadness in a way he knows they'll respond to best psychologically, not wishing to frighten them with promises of knives, blades, guns, murder, carnage, gore and all the things he'd do to anyone or anything that would ever make them sad or encroach on their happiness. He tells them anecdotes. Tales from his travels. All the places he's been. Seen. Spirituality. Past lives. How this is all unsolved karmic baggage and in few days time, it'll seem like a distant matter that'll only grow more foggy as time passes but that he's here, interconnected with beloved through countless past lives, feeling every bit of dejectedness they themselves might feel. He's here to face the fray with them because they're soulmates and that's what soulmates do. It is genuinely the most intense and eye-opening conversation beloved's ever had. One of those goddamn near live changing chats that seem a bit dream-like and slightly haunting and strange the next day but beloved truly does feel better afterwards because Jack will literally talk them out of their sour mood. Of course, has to be said that there's a disturbing factor to all of this because it is almost like Jack saw into beloved's soul and just about scraped off whatever was bothering them singlehandedly. Was there something in the coffee he's made them? Something in his general air and manner, how he knows to handle people? The sex they had afterwards? Beloved cannot tell, but they do feel infinitely better.

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tolkien-feels · 2 years

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I require a list of people Sauron has ever feared from most to least, please

I can't answer this ask without talking about amdir vs estel, so if you're not familiar with those, do skim over them.

Also I know you meant this jokingly but I find the serious answer very fascinating so I'll be serious. Sorry.

Okay here's the thing. Sauron's primary weapon seems to be fear (and despair, and betrayal, which are all related to fear), and he is himself described as afraid a few times. Of all the Valar, Morgoth alone feels fear, and from that, I tend to headcanon that Sauron feels a lot of fear. Because see, in Tolkien's world, fear is the opposite of estel, right? And estel, ultimately, is trust that Iluvatar's plan may not be thwarted. How can you possibly find the confidence of estel if your whole thing is that you oppose Iluvatar??

Sauron's hope at all times must be amdir. Which means he either must trust that he himself is powerful enough to face X person or Y event or he has nothing else to cling to. There's never going to be eagles coming or unexpected allies or Chance for him. And because he draws no comfort from "If I die, it'll be defending my home/friends/honor which I love" anything except victory is meaningless for him. So he has to win and it has to be by himself, because he only ever fights for himself. It's a horrible, horrible way to live and most of the reason why I genuinely pity Sauron, not because he's not evil (he is) but because being evil sucks. (At least in Tolkien's universe.)

So like, who does Sauron fear? Literally everybody who is a threat. And when you spend millennia exploiting people's willingness to betray each other and go from friend to threat... well, you would be stupid to trust even your must trusted servants, wouldn't you? So who is a threat to Sauron? Potentially everybody.

Now, because Sauron is arrogant, he wouldn't consider hobbits a threat. Yes he's relying on his own strength, but his strength is more than enough to handle hobbits. But this very arrogance makes it so that a given person either doesn't register in his mind or registers as a threat. Everything he pays attention to comes from a place of fear. At most he can probably conceptualize the idea of toys ie people he's paying attention to because it's fun to make them suffer, but they aren't very dangerous. But after the great Luthien fiasco I think he probably becomes a lot more pragmatic about that - he kills Celebrimbor fairly quickly, for instance. (And of course, there's the Frodo effect: certain threats fly under his radar because he's too arrogant.)

So who does Sauron fear? Basically everybody he's ever given any thought to, which is the entire reason he loses the War of the Ring.

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outrunningthedark · 1 year

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joined the 911 fandom few months back and…has it always been this annoying or did something shift recently. someone on twt said maybe mehta coming back doesnt have anything to do w buddie at all and now they are getting cooked for “raining on people’s parade and being a negative nancy for no reason” …. this whole cycle of setting expectations and bullying people for not having the same enthusiasm then getting annoyed that the tv show isnt delivering the same expectation you set is just so annoying??? glad that your blog exists and you exist because this fandom is in heavy NEED of rational minded people 😭🫶🏽

I've been actively involved in fandom since the start of s4 (was a lurker in s3) and from my perspective...things get worse as the seasons continue! In s4, there was *some* hope for canon!Buddie, but Ana came back into the picture and TayKay soon followed so expectations were lowered (because we didn't know how long they'd stick around). Thennn...the shooting happened. Plus the change in guardianship. People were on board again AND we were introduced to even more new fans who couldn't believe "the gay firefighters" weren't together yet. Season five? Eddie breaks up with Ana, Buck breaks up with TayKay..."If Buddie not canon then why did they break up with their girlfriends?" And now season six is about how "all signs point to canon Buddie" no matter what happens. (ie They were convinced Eddie would be a big part of Buck in the coma to hint at feelings and when he wasn't they changed their theories to "explain" why his absence was a good thing; same with the sperm donor arc - all that non-communication was going to pay off once Eddie confronted Buck about a decision he didn't think through and now the lack of 6A content is going unmentioned because Oliver has (twice) emphasized that there's nothing for Buck to come to grips with, he knew what he was doing when he said yes.) I think the fandom just really, really wants to be right about this one thing for two reasons: 1. It would be a game-changer. How many fans of a queer ship can say that they got the endgame they wanted? Furthermore, how many can say their canon ship started out with two straight characters who fell in love over time because a show thought that made the better story? (Not the SPN fandom, that's for sure. They're some of the biggest naysayers you'll find around here because "I've been where you are." Mind you, most us are old af and remember a time when queer ships stayed in fandom spaces because TV shows wouldn't dare take the risk of alienating audiences.) 2. Having Buddie go canon is an opportunity to get back at any and everyone who doesn't believe it'll happen; the ultimate "I told you so!" victory lap.

I do agree with the fandom when it comes to keeping opinions out of other people's inboxes unless they're open to reading it (obviously me :P), but expressing an opinion on your own page (whether that be twitter or tumblr) is what having a social media account in a fandom is for. You don't have to agree with the person. You don't even have to read it. But you can't stop them from feeling how they feel. And quite frankly, while having hope is nice to see (I do, too!), some people could use a reality check. We're not in the writers' room. We don't know what the writing staff is really thinking when they come up with stuff. Even when Kristen makes comments and Oliver gives his perspective, the fandom calls them "liars" or twists their words to fit a narrative that makes for (what they think is) a better outcome. They'll also advise people not to read the articles, but...nobody actually lies in those because they don't give away all that much information, and the information they do give is to tell fandom when things aren't about Buddie, lmao. Kristen said the coma arc was about Bobby and Chim and there fandom was hyping up Eddie's importance only to realize she meant what she said. Oliver says Eddie going after Buck in 6x10 isn't hinting at anything and they're envisioning feelings realizations at Buck's bedside, which never came. They're TELLING fandom to not get its hopes up right now and the speculation has only gone deeper into "this can't be about anything other than Buddie" because everyone is too invested to turn back now.

As for Captain Mehta - I have my own theories about this. Could his presence bring about a mention of the shooting? Yep. Could his presence inspire another conversation? Yep. But *why* him and *why* he finally has a first name? 1. Is everyone at that table supposed to call him Captain Mehta or just Mehta? Nobody knows him on a personal level? 2. Is it possible that throwing some third no-name/relatively unknown firefighter into the scene (along with Capt. Williams and possibly Julie) does nothing to gauge the audience's interest? At least the audience will remember Mehta and there's a connection between him and both halves of Buddie whereas we've seen Julie in limited quantities (and not even as one of their friends off the job) and Miranda Williams was last seen in early s4.

I'm not saying him being back can't be the precursor to important things, but people also thought the Buckleys were coming back after two years so their kids could yell at them some more and they would decline to be with their son in the hospital (why else would they have returned right then, duh!) and we all saw how that turned out. This fandom loves to say "Bestie, you're watching a FOX procedural" on the ~discourse~ days while routinely ignoring the fact that we're watching a FOX procedural. Sometimes what you see really is what you get when the show runners are (currently) pandering to an audience that includes everyone but us.

#they asked and i answered. you don't need to agree with me.#anonymous #tina speaks #tv: 911 #tv: 9-1-1 #eddie diaz #evan buckley #buddie

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matan4il · 1 year

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Another amazing meta. 💙❤️ Every time I feel doubt creeping in on whether buddie will go canon, I head to your meta to remind myself that it'll be a crime not to follow through.

And this week's was... wow. So much happened in only a handful of scenes. That "solid ground" line from Bobby. The second I saw the GIFs for it I instantly thought there's another Buddie/Bathena parallel.

But the moment that really got me was Eddie return to the couch with beers only to find Buck asleep. It reminded me of the trope where the couple who haven't seen each other for a while, are all set to get jiggy, one goes to the bathroom and comes back to their partner sparko on the bed and sighs. So when you said it's the most naked they could be without removing their clothes, I understood you completely.

I honestly looking forward to the rest of the season, especially their date night. ☺️

Hello, my darling! Thank you SO MUCH for the kind words about my 612 meta! :D I'm so happy that you liked it. And honestly, every aspect of Bathena in this ep (though that "solid ground" line was probably the highlight) screamed that they're paralleled with Buddie. It was stunning!

YES! Hon, that is exactly it. Because whenever that trope happens, we're not meant to read it as "these two aren't interested in each other," we're meant to understand that they have reached THOSE levels of domesticity, of comfort. And that's what we see with Buddie in this ep.

I'm very much looking forward to their date night as well! I still can't believe no one else posted this spoilers pic of their poker night before I did. I was so sure I couldn't be the first one, it's why I phrased it as a question... But it makes me so happy the entire fandom went crazy over it, 'coz yeah, same! That poker game scene is gonna DELIVER. I just know it.

If it's okay, since you sent me a second ask and I'm falling behind, I might answer it here too, if it's alright with you?

Omg that anon just made me realize that it's not just the couch Buck hasn't really picked. So he was living with friends (frat house as the anon called it), then Abby's apartment, and then he chose the loft with Ally, obviously expecting it to be there home (and I may be misremembering but wasn't it her choice). I can't believe I never realized that.

I don't hate the loft either, and your right, it fits his bachelor lifestyle. It definitely feels like a bachelor pad, but now I can't get over the fact he didn't choose it alone, for himself.

This is in continuation to the anon asking about the loft. You're both absolutely right! From the way Buck and Ali interact with the sales lady, it's clear that Ali HAS a lot of say, and that she saw Buck's loft as the place that would be her other home. Did she have the final say? We don't know. But at the end of the day, the way he presents it is that this would be the first place he gets on his own.

So IDK, I'm still mostly positive about the loft. Did he choose alone? No. 'Coz he did have a gf he was committed to, and even if they weren't at the stage of fully living together, they were on the road there (a bit similar to how we saw Taylor in his loft in 5a, TBH. And yes, that very much strengthens the similarity to how he didn't choose the couch). But he was so enthused about being "an adult" who supports himself and is paying for his place on his own. I can't overlook that. And much like the whole idea of how a journey through the wrong r/s is needed in order to find the right one, that's how I kind of feel about the loft. It's not Buck's ultimate destination (that's Eddie's house), but it is an important step on the way there...

Thank you, darling! Hope you have a beautiful day! As always, here's my ask tag. xoxox

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one-way-dream · 1 year

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BAS02 & Ashes

Rating: General

Words: 880+

Media: Sonic the Hedgehog, Shadow The Hedgehog (2005)

Characters: Shadow the Hedgehog, Maria Robotnik (Mentioned), Rouge the Bat (Mentioned), Sonic the Hedgehog (Mentioned), Black Doom (Mentioned)

Tags: Character Introspection, Second-Person POV, Experimental <- doesn't know what they're doing, Dark-Dark Route (Shadow the Hedgehog 2005), Conflicting Feelings, Guilt, Guy who is too far gone and maybe regrets it

Warnings: Canon-typical violence

Chapter: 1/1

Link to the original work

AO3 Summary/Except:

"Had Maria’s wish ever mattered to you? Or have you already fulfilled it that day you became one with the stars?"

Very messy and very experimental. I've never written anything this short and unpolished in my life. ❤️

The cold, dry, air of the fortress blasts against your face, almost as if it was burning, until the air becomes still. It’s stale against the tip of your nose and you think that sensation should’ve pulled a familiar chord in your heart as it once would have.

It’s a feeling akin to nostalgia that strikes you, one that you shut down immediately, but for those fleeting moments they reek of a spacecraft so desolate it could be mistaken for a moon; one that the girl in your dreams might have charted, believing it to be a star during your nights side by side, warmth and gentle lavender-vanilla radiating off of her.

But you’ve never been able to reciprocate heat the way humans do, because you were merely a leech – you’ve never been a warm body yourself.

Factory lights flicker overhead, the click of machine guns reloading in the distance, and the desperation of human beings hangs thickly in the air.

It's such a familiar scene.

But…

The loneliness has already rotted you to your core, and those feelings don’t mean anything to you anymore. All that matters is seeing it through to the end.

After all, this is pure.

This is vengeance in its entirety.

Green catches your eye before you notice that it was a soldier’s gaze – murky fear and hostility blend together until they cannot be pulled apart. It’s almost an amusing sight, but the word pathetic comes easier. That look is so painfully human, and you once thought you knew what it meant to be human; but you'd thought wrong, because with each passing second the idea of humanity for an ultimate weapon slips away, pooling at your feet in the form of bullet shells and smoke that clings to your vision.

It’s too much trouble to get rid of him, so instead you rip your gaze away from the man first when it starts to burn; because it’s too much to take, because there’s no time to waste, and maybe because you’re almost reminded of the time someone had once tried to teach you to love humans despite their flaws. But a weapon shouldn't be capable of that to begin with. It’s a hindrance and a flaw in what is meant to be flawless; a bug in your programming – the only thing left for you to do is patch it. Destroy it.

A voice suddenly reaches your ear amidst all the chaos of battle, realizing that someone is yelling at you, scalding, desperate as you feel the wind from their wings.

(You think you know who she is, but you tune it out anyways.)

It's too late for second chances, too late for half-baked truths. Not when you're already so far gone beyond the point of return. You feel a laugh escaping over your dry tongue, wondering why Sonic and the others even bother trying anymore.

The bitterness coils in your gut like a venomous snake, wrapping around like a ribbon and squeezing until you’re a breath away from a pained groan. It’s not real, you remind yourself, deliriously half-laughing under your breath, until the serpent strikes, and you find yourself tripping on your own two left feet.

But there's no time to hesitate. Not when you're so close. Not when you're at the final frontier of humanity – a pathetic excuse for a shelter meant to give an inkling of hope to the last soldiers.

All it'll take is one shot to end it all. It has to be swift, though you're unsure if it should be painless. For whatever reason, bile nearly rises to your mouth with a choked hiccup at the thought of making those worthless humans suffer any longer than they already have.

As soon as that thought crosses your mind however, a heavy sigh leaves your lips as you skip to a stop in front of the last gun turret.

Yet another defect found in your system. What a pain.

(It can't be afforded.)

You have no goal but to be perfect, after all. Perfect carnage. Perfect destruction. Perfect revenge. That’s what you were made for, and you have a debt to repay with your life.

‘A life for a life’, as Black Doom had once said – but you still have yet to ask him what exactly he means.

It’s unknown whether everything will go out with a bang or a whimper; should everything bleed into nothingness until everything is still and stale, like the air on the ARK, and it still won’t matter.

Had Maria’s wish ever mattered to you? Or have you already fulfilled it that day you became one with the stars?

Was pretending to misremember her words and her feelings the easy way out? Or was it just the most sensible?

Sometimes your mind, or whatever is left of it, wanders - the little doubt you have left festers in the back in your brain like poison as you wonder if any of these thoughts are even your own, or if perhaps, Black Doom dug his claws into your spines at some point, like the puppet you were always meant to be.

But you are and always were a tool; regardless of whether these thoughts were your own or not, you are a means to an end. A means to humanity's end.

#sth #sonic the hedgehog #shadow the hedgehog #shadow the hedgehog 2005 #maria robotnik #rouge the bat #black doom #character introspection #fic #my work #for the record this is just like. literally nonsense brain dump i just think abt how shadow mustve felt in the dark-dark route #even if it wasnt real but yknow fdkjshfdsf #bas02 is the file name of the stage in shth by the way!#this is also the shortest thing ive ever written and i have to chew off my arms for that i think #also sorry if this comes off as edgy i wasnt thinkimg </3 #nothing romantic here its just shadow and his thoughts (sorta)#anyway i think thats it for tags #my fics #ok thank you gamers goodnight (explodes)#ALSO SORRY FOR GRAMMAR im not good at grammar #i also HIGHLY recommend listening to the gun fortress stage music while reading #since i was listening to that on loop while writing and thats what inspired this

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g0nta-g0kuhara · 1 year

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Do you think whenever Kokichi said "It was a lie" or "That's a lie", he was actually trying to tell them that the game/the reality is a lie? Like, he somehow knew that everything was faked, but he couldn't outright say it because he was either being watched and couldn't risk it or he literally couldn't, so he says "It's a lie" around Shuichi since he hopes that he could figure out what he actually means. Being an ultimate detective and all.

And lo and behold, the one who figured out what Kokichi really meant was Kaito

Hmmmm Y'know one of the key parts of my interpretation of Kokichi is that he's kind of just as clueless as everyone else about what's going on from the very beginning. Kokichi's smart, so I think he picked up on the weirdness of the situation quicker than the others (especially since he probably spent a good amount of his time fucking off by himself and exploring with his lock picking abilities) but I feel very strongly that he was only slightly ahead, and never had all the answers.

I kinda dislike it when Kokichi is portrayed as someone who figured everything out quickly and is trying to communicate this knowledge to everyone else in code, cause often times its accompanied with implications that the rest of the cast is stupid or only getting in his way or just frustrating to interact with. That Kokichi is the only threat to the killing game and everyone else is just passively surviving. I Do think Kokichi indirectly tries to get Shuichi and others to pick up on some of the things he's figured out by lying or saying weird shit and then saying that it was a lie. He knows that if he speaks directly about some of the stuff he wants to say, it'll put a target on his back. But I also think sometimes, he's just lying. Because he does genuinely enjoy lying if it makes things more interesting. And Sometimes, he's asserting what he thinks is true, but just straight up got it wrong.

I think his character is so much more interesting if Kokichi is just someone who doesn't have all the answers and is trying his best. I think Kokichi HIGHLY suspected, if he wasn't convinced, that they were being watched starting in ch5. But he didn't know the depth of ultimate real fiction, or that V3 was a TV show, and I feel especially strongly that he wasn't even all that suspicious of Tsumugi wrt being the mastermind.

When Kokichi is just a clever person with layers of issues and repression preventing him from working with others. When he's just an ultimate leader trying to lead* his classmates so he can try to get as many of them out of the killing game as possible while keeping them at arms length not only due to his own repression but so that he can be "pragmatic" and sacrifice pawns he deems necessary for the overall cause. When he genuinely needs other people's help to achieve his goals and for so long doesn't take any but eventually requests the help of someone so different from him (Kaito). I find that way more interesting.

#pluto answers #*I want to emphasize that he's not a leader to them- he's using his skills as a leader to try and help #and using his skills as a leader to make ''tough decisions'' that hurt some/all of the people he's ''leading'' if itll help the group #Kokichi to me feels very ends justifies the means #sorry this was so long winded ive just been thinking about this for a while ghdjskfs #also sorry if it makes no sense im bad at this kinda thing

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moonstrider9904 · 2 years

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Caretaker

Chapter 4 of Moonlight

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{crossposted to AO3}

Series summary: Not even Clair, with her promising quiet life as the owner of a small restaurant on Naboo, could escape the war after her restaurant is destroyed in a strange, terrorist-like event. Left with nothing, she is taken in by a squad of four clone troopers who are all very protective of her, particularly the team’s sarcastic, arrogant sniper, who battles to maintain his tough exterior as sweet Clair slowly crawls her way into him.

Chapter summary: Crosshair continues trying to suppress his feelings for Clair even if it'll ultimately get the better of him, and the two find themselves in an unforeseen opportunity to bond over Clair's love for cooking.

Warnings/tags: There is angst in this chapter as well as alcohol use and some swearing, but there is also fluff and bonding. There are mentions of death and loss as well. Lots of that Soft!Crosshair we all love!

Word count: 7.6k

Playlist: spells to fall asleep, opus 2

Even before his eyes opened, he’d already been repeating to himself that he couldn’t let that happen again. He remembered Clair’s smile from the night before, and the last thing he could to do her was give her hope.

A somber wave of dread fell over Crosshair as he sat up on his bunk, rubbing his eyes to release some of the tension he still had. He flinched when he picked up on the muffled sound of one of Clair’s giggles coming from the main hall of the Marauder, all while he remained seating and isolated in his own room. He scowled at himself. He’d led her too far on, now he’d have to take more distance from her than before. Whatever, he figured, she’d be happy with spending time with Tech and Wrecker. Those two would keep her so occupied, she wouldn’t even have time to bother thinking of him. That would be fine for him so long as it meant Clair wouldn’t grieve on his account.

A loud knock on his door snapped Crosshair out of his thoughts, and right after that he heard Wrecker’s voice coming from outside.

“Last call for breakfast, ram’ser! You don’t come out here, I’m gonna eat it all.”

“I’m coming,” Crosshair snarled. He stood up and didn’t even change out of the plain shirt and pants he’d used to sleep; he’d step into the refresher once he had caf in his system. As he walked down the hall towards the Marauder’s cockpit, he filled himself of determination.

But Clair’s big eyes made it difficult to not pay attention to her. As soon as he stepped into the cockpit where everyone was gathered around the rations they had left, her gaze landed on him and her smile brightened. What caught him off guard was the unusual scent that filled the air—it wasn’t caf like they were used to whenever they had mornings off. The scent was natural, earthy, and he later picked up on the touch of honey that lingered with it.

“Clair made tea!” Wrecker called out with excitement as he refilled his cup. “It’s so good!”

If Crosshair could have had it his way, he wouldn’t have made anything of it, but it wouldn’t be possible. Clair was already approaching him with a cup in hand, and he felt a pang in his chest when he realized that cup wasn’t hers. Her smile was caring and charming and her eyes sparkled when she looked up at him. She had every ounce of goodness and welfare and, Crosshair feared, even love in her gaze.

“I was up early and I went out to forage for some herbs,” she told him. “I figured you’d all like it. And I even found some honey that you had stored! It goes incredibly well with this blend.”

Clair put the cup in his hands before he could even know how to react. He remained speechless, but he knew Clair was expecting some sort of a reaction. However, she only figured he was shy around his brothers, so she resorted to prompting him just a bit further.

“And, uh… I wanted to thank you again for last night,” she said quietly so that Tech and Wrecker wouldn’t hear while they talked with each other. “It really helped me clear my mind and I slept really well afterwards. How’d you sleep?”

“Fine,” Crosshair told her as he turned and went around her to head to the ration box. He’d made the attempt to not be too aggressive in his movements, but the gesture was still unquestionably rude, and he could feel Clair’s gaze on him as he purposefully turned his back on her.

She was confused, to say the least. She wasn’t one to do things expecting the other would return the gesture, but she figured that after the previous night, she and Crosshair would talk more. He’d said himself he didn’t hate her, and she grew sad thinking what the problem might have been. Maybe she said something that triggered Crosshair, but what could it have been?

Her eyes landed on Hunter, who was already looking at her sympathetically. He gave her a reassuring smile in hopes he could at least convey the message Crosshair was only cranky because he’d just woken up. Clair tried pushing it aside, even though deep down it still bothered her. Meanwhile, Hunter tried to catch Crosshair’s gaze, but he’d only find out Crosshair was evading him as well. After the conversation Hunter had with him the previous night, it seemed obvious why. Crosshair had tried something he regretted, and now he was going to back off again.

Clair was still trying to figure Crosshair out when she felt one of Wrecker’s affectionate taps that made her snap out of it.

“Sorry, what?”

Wrecker chuckled at her. “I said you should come to the village marketplace with me and Tech.”

“I’m sure we’re all in the mood for something other than rations and it would be nice to purchase something more edible,” Tech said. “Besides, I’ve been reading up on this planet’s customs and it seems it’ll make for a nice evening out.”

“Evening?” Wrecker protested. “That wasn’t part of the deal. I want to go there now!”

“I’m sure you do, but the way the locals work makes mornings exclusively dedicated to setting up the business when it comes to the food market. If we go now, we’ll be met with stale food and leftovers that the locals would much rather repurpose rather than consume. It is simply the way their economy works, and I must say it’s rather interesting. I don’t see it much in other planets.”

“Okay, Tech—” Wrecker grasped Tech’s shoulders firmly. “Look at me. Small words, buddy.”

“If we go now, food no be yummy. Food be bad. Wrecker no like.”

“Ooooh, I see—hey!” Wrecker shoved Tech once he realized what his brother was doing.

Clair couldn’t help but laugh at the way Tech and Wrecker got along. From the corner of her eye, she even saw Crosshair curving his lips in a nearly imperceptible smile as he witnessed the scene as well. That gesture gave Clair the slightest bit of hope, and she decided maybe including the Batch as a whole would be a better way to Crosshair’s good side.

“We’ll all go, right?” Clair proposed.

“It would certainly be nice if we all went together,” Tech replied. “Unless of course, anyone has other plans they’ll have to attend during the evening.”

“I want to hunt,” Crosshair said, his voice blunt.

“You won’t be able to do much of that,” Tech said. “Hunting is prohibited for civilians, and not even your status as a soldier of the Grand Army of the Republic will allow you. Only those in the food market are permitted to do it.”

“Then I’ll fish.”

“Not many edible fish in this lake,” Tech countered. “I studied the water at sunrise and its conditions foster various species of small fish, many of them too small to even bother eating and some of them even poisonous. They’re not worth the effort, unless you wish to make some sort of gourmet dish, that is.”

“Then I’ll hike and catch bugs,” Crosshair said dismissively.

“Funny you should mention that,” Hunter cut in with his low tone. “I was planning on a hike as well. Come with me, I won’t bother you.”

Crosshair didn’t seem happy, but then, he never did. Not the way he was at night under the ethereal moonlight, as Clair remembered the scene vividly. She remembered the way his lips had curved; it was so real there was no way she could have dreamt it. Still, she felt herself relax when she saw Crosshair nodding at Hunter and no more snarky comments escaped him.

“Clair,” Tech caught her attention. “Perhaps while they’re off hiking, you’d like to come with me to forage for more plants? There won’t be a problem if we pick them responsibly.”

“I’d love that,” Clair said, but then turned back at Hunter. “You’ll be back before we go to the market, right?”

Hunter addressed her with a gentle smile before Crosshair could do anything. “I’m sure we will, but we’ll probably be too tired to go to the market afterwards.”

A part of Clair wanted to go with them, if only to figure out the mystery that Crosshair had become to her, but somehow she felt it wouldn’t be a good idea. If she proposed it, Tech and Wrecker would tag along, and she had the gut feeling that letting Crosshair have his space would be a good idea. Maybe the night before that, he’d only tried to like her. Maybe he wound up not liking her after all, and though Clair didn’t understand it, she’d try to respect it.

However, once everything was settled, Crosshair made his way past Hunter and back into the hall of the Marauder.

“I’ll hit the refresher,” Crosshair told Hunter quietly.

“Please do,” Hunter replied with a devious grin, only for Crosshair to lightly shove him in response.

The sharpshooter walked off without addressing anyone else, and Clair couldn’t help but follow him with her gaze. As he went further into the ship, she noticed Crosshair had never let go of the cup of tea she gave him, and she then caught a glimpse of him bringing the cup up to his lips to take a drink of it.

For the time being, Clair was fine with settling for that.

The sun shone beautifully that day. Hunter and Crosshair had left early for their hike, leaving Clair with Wrecker and Tech to wander about in the nearby forest after they’d all freshened up. Clair wore a shirt and pants that she’d borrowed from Tech, and his clothes had a relatively loose fit on her since he was so much taller. She’d even had the opportunity to wash her dress and have it dry outside the ship.

Foraging hadn’t taken up most of their time, but she often found herself wondering about Crosshair. Questions of where he was and who he was crossed her mind from time to time. The day was mostly filled with Wrecker and Tech telling her some of their stories from the front lines, as well as several educational explanations from Tech on almost anything they encountered. Whenever Clair managed to get Crosshair out of her mind, the day could prove to be very nice and easy.

When the sun was beginning to set and Clair, Wrecker, and Tech were in the ship assorting the plants they’d collected, Hunter and Crosshair arrived looking tired, yet peaceful in a way. That only made it more obvious when Crosshair’s eyes hardened upon seeing Clair as she organized the herbs with Tech, and after that he’d barely look in their direction.

Tech caught up on the different reactions from the people around him. He adjusted his goggles and faced Hunter, who seemed in good enough condition to decide. “I take it you won’t accompany us?”

“I think we’re staying,” Hunter said. “I am, at least.”

Tech looked over at Crosshair, who merely shook his head in response.

“I hope you weren’t waiting for us,” Hunter said.

“Don’t worry, we wanted to organize these plants before leaving. It won’t be long now.”

“How was your hike?” Clair asked Hunter.

“Peaceful,” he answered. “This spot has a really good variety of places to explore. Though Crosshair sat down and looked out at the lake most of the time.”

Clair wouldn’t allow herself to look at the sharpshooter, not when Hunter’s words had sparked the memory of the night before when Crosshair had also been observing the lake.

“Is that the time?” Tech cut in. “We should probably head to the marketplace now. Over the next couple of hours will be the finest time to visit, and afterwards the businesses will begin to close down.”

“Well then, let’s go!” Wrecker beamed with excitement and held his arm out for Clair. “May I escort you, milady?”

She linked arms with Wrecker with the best spirits she could muster, only turning back to wave goodbye at Hunter and Crosshair. Still to her shock, although she later realized she shouldn’t have been surprised, Crosshair had already disappeared into the Marauder. Hunter could pick up on her disappointment, so he directed her an apologetic look before she and Wrecker exited the Marauder, followed by Tech.

It didn’t take them long to arrive in the village; they could see its light gleaming from quite a distance as the sun continued to go down, bringing back the night sky Clair had fallen in love with. As they were arriving at the village, Clair could make out the figure of the moon rising between the trees. It reminded her painfully of the night before, so she beckoned herself not to look at it.

Focusing on the village became easier the closer they got to it. Still with her arm linked to Wrecker’s, the sight of it was enough to lift her spirits by a lot. People of all ages were going about as if there were no war in the galaxy. Tech led them towards the main marketplace of the village while Wrecker and Clair gawked at the lovely village.

The beautiful mix of scents was the first thing that caught their attention, announcing that they’d finally arrived. The village was lovely as it was, but the ambience of the marketplace was almost carnival-like. Chains of fairy lights between the lamp posts decorated the upper parts and every food stand and business was colorful and inviting. There was so much variety in the things sold in the marketplace, as was reflected by the cocktail of smells, and Clair’s heart began to flutter when she picked up on the scent of freshly baked bread.

Like a child, Wrecker let go of Clair’s arm to instead tug on her hand, practically dragging her towards the first stand he could find. It sold several treats cooked up on the moment; they could either be friend and salty or cool and sweet, and Wrecker was having a blast merely looking at them.

“I hope he doesn’t drool,” Tech whispered to Clair as they watched him.

“Let’s have some faith in the big baby,” Clair said, unable to hide her laugh. Deep down, she figured Wrecker would drool at some point of the evening. “I’d be more worried about him being mistaken for our son.”

“Seriously?”

“Look at him go,” Clair proved her point when Wrecker practically skipped to the next post, gasping loudly at the cuts of meat being grilled.

Wrecker turned around with a leap. “Can we get one of these?! Please?!”

“Yes, I suppose you’re right. He does have my face, after all,” Tech finally agreed with you.

“My thoughts exactly,” Clair giggled as she and Tech approached Wrecker, who had already ordered a drumstick for himself.

“We should determine what exactly we’ll purchase,” Tech said as he looked at his calculations for credits on his holopad.

“One of each!” Wrecker proposed happily.

“We have neither the money nor the room for one of each. Plus, it would be the opposite of practical since we are a squad.”

“I’d love some fresh fruit and spices,” Clair told Tech. “And perhaps a few things to embellish ordinary rations.”

“Excellent idea,” Tech put his holopad in one of his large pouches. “I was also going to suggest getting you any supplies you may need for baking.”

Clair was a bit taken aback, but not negatively. “Wait, are you serious?”

“Why not? You’re the one who knows her way around food, and I’m sure it will make you feel better to do something you love.”

“What do you mean?”

Tech looked at her with understanding. “You know what I mean.”

Clair sighed. She should have known it wouldn’t get past the others, no matter how carefree they seemed.

“You’ve gone through some very intense stuff only to be met with his distant behavior,” Tech said. “Don’t take it personal, he’s that way with everyone.”

“That’s the thing…” Clair was about to tell Tech about what had happened with Crosshair, even if it hadn’t been much, but she hesitated. “I kind of…”

Tech’s eyes prompted her to keep going, but instead Clair sighed and paid no more attention to it.

“Thanks,” she told him. “But I’m fine, really.”

Tech nodded at her. He clearly wasn’t satisfied with her response, but he wouldn’t force her to talk either. “So, what do we need besides the regular flour, eggs, and butter?”

“Oh, don’t worry about it now,” she said. “As soon as we find a place that sells the supplies, I’ll know what to pick up.”

“Are you certain?”

“Tech, I know each of my recipes like the back of my hand,” she told him proudly. “How about we go get that fruit I was telling you about and we’ll pick it up from there?”

“Sounds ideal,” Tech answered just as Wrecker walked up to them, already gobbling up the drumstick he’d ordered with another two in his other hand, all of them clearly for him.

“What gives?” He spoke with a full mouth. “Aren’t you guys getting anything now? We came here to have a good time, it’s not all business!”

“I suppose I could really use some dumplings,” Clair said as she eyed one of the stands down the street. “What do you think, Tech?”

“Dumplings sound amazing.”

They headed to the stand Clair had pinpointed as they enjoyed the overall scenery of the market. As Wrecker enjoyed his remaining two drumsticks, Tech and Clair enjoyed a delicious batch of dumplings each. The filling was delicious as it had vegetables along with a creamy cheese that was embellished with a fine blend of spices. Clair recognized a few of them and she loved it so much that she promised herself to include a recipe like that the next time she set up her restaurant.

If she ever could, of course.

Just as they were finishing up their food to go and buy the supplies they’d already planned, the tiny comm device that Tech had given to Clair for precautions began to beep. She picked it up for Tech and Wrecker to hear as well, just in case it was something important, but the other end of the line greeted them with sounds of shifting and even a couple of impacts.

“Hello?” Clair finally spoke into the comm.

“Sorry!” It was Hunter’s voice. “Pocket dial.”

And then the line was cut off, leaving Clair to exchange looks with the two clones who’d gone with her.

“That was strange,” Tech commented.

“I’m sure pocket dials are fairly normal,” Clair told him.

“Right,” Tech replied with skepticism. “Anyway, shall we go get the rest?”

“Sure!” Clair said, already feeling much better than before.

While Tech and Clair focused on getting fruits, including some of her favorite berries, as well as spices and even some veggies, Wrecker took it upon himself to pick up more snacks and treats for the whole squad to indulge in over the course of the night and the following morning. They’d made pretty good time already, and while Clair paid the last few spices, Tech located the next stand they’d go to. He led Clair to a small shop that had almost everything she could dream of: baking molds, utensils, sheets, decorative supplies, as well as all the essential ingredients for baking and a few others that weren’t so common.

“How did you know this was here?” Clair questioned with gleaming eyes.

“I merely looked it up,” Tech told her. “Now go on, pick up whatever you need.”

Clair pranced around the shop with an excitement that was so pure, anyone who laid eyes on her would want to pick her up and protect her. As Clair had pointed out before, she knew exactly what to pick up and how much of it, and it was amazing to Tech how she knew it like the back of her hand. She was off in her own little world, and in no time, the basket she had was filling up. When she was ready, she gestured to Tech and Wrecker, who went fully into the store to make the purchase.

At the front counter was an old lady with bronze skin marked by wrinkles and expression lines. Her hair was still very voluptuous, but it was almost completely gray except for a few black strands. Her eyes were kind and unbelievably soft, as Tech and Wrecker perceived it, since they’d expected someone so old to be hardened by time and the difficulties the Galaxy had gone through with the war.

“Will that be all, young lady?” She spoke, not removing her eyes from Clair.

“Yes, thank you.”

The lady began to register the items. “I’ve never seen you around here, but you seem to know what you’re doing.”

“We’re just passing through, actually,” Clair said.

“You’re a baker?”

“Baker, chef, brewer,” Clair smiled shyly. “Cooking has been my whole life.”

Still with kindness, the old lady raised an eyebrow as she scanned the two men behind Clair. “Then why are you hanging out with soldiers, girl?”

Clair chuckled faintly. “I’m… actually sort of a refugee. It’s complicated. The war forced me to displace and these guys are helping me find a new place to settle in, one where I could set up a restaurant like I already had.”

The lady’s eyes lit up. “You had your own restaurant? At your age? What an achievement!”

“Thank you!” Clair smiled and looked around the shop. “Are you a baker too?”

“Retired,” said she. “The old bakery is still set up at the back, but it never gets used anymore. My daughter used to, but then she went off to study as a medic to prepare for the great war.”

“Surely she’ll enjoy it when she returns,” Clair said hopefully.

But the lady’s eyes softened and she exhaled. “I’m afraid she won’t. She died in service.”

Clair’s heart dropped. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“My dear, you had no way of knowing!” To Clair’s surprise, the old lady was beaming with kindness. “Besides, I know my dear child helped countless others. Besides, that was long ago, and I have learned to make my peace with it.”

“How could you ever do it?” Clair inquired.

The lady leaned in with a hint of mischief in her eyes. “It took about three-dozen berry pies, countless pots of tea, a whole lot of self-care and healing. But really, my child, the best aid was time.”

“Really?” Clair said, just a bit disheartened.

“Time is the only thing we have, dear. With time, we always know what to do when it comes to us.”

Her reflection made Clair feel a subtle wave of peace. Gazing at this woman’s eyes, Clair was sure she knew what she was talking about. Just then, the kind woman finished registering all the items, leaving for Tech to pay the amount in credits. The lady secured them and gazed at Clair again before they left.

“How long will you stay here?”

“At least another day,” Tech answered. “Perhaps two, if we have the opportunity.”

The woman nodded at Tech and looked at Clair once more. “Come here tomorrow. Use my bakery to create whatever you wish. I’m sure you plan on putting all those ingredients to use.”

“I-I wouldn’t want to make trouble.”

“It won’t be trouble, dear. I’ll be out tomorrow to meet with providers and the shop will be closed, but I always leave a key under the tallest lavender plant. Please, use the bakery. Make something delicious to share with your friends. I feel like you could use it.”

Clair couldn’t find the words to express how touched she felt. The gesture was unexpected, but it was one of the kindest things anyone had ever done for her.

“I… I don’t know what to say. I don’t even know your name!”

“Call me Mora, dear. And how may I call you?”

“Clair,” she said with a smile.

“Well, do you accept my offer, Clair? I’m sure the old bakery would love someone so spirited and experienced to create in it.”

Clair looked over at Tech and Wrecker, who both smiled at her in encouragement. The idea of cooking and baking again had already made Clair happy, but to do it in a space that was actually meant for it would just about make her day. She turned around and faced Mora again.

“I’d be happy to,” she smiled.

Mora clasped her hands together with a big grin. “Excellent! Everything will be ready when you arrive tomorrow. Remember, the key is under the big lavender plant.”

“I won’t forget. Thank you so much, I promise to leave the place spotless afterwards.”

“I trust you’ll do wonderfully,” Mora told her.

With a few more warm waves and goodbyes, Clair made her way outside of the shop followed by Tech and Wrecker, and the three of them walked down the street feeling a wave of brightness that wasn’t all that common for them.

“Well, that was surely very nice,” Tech broke the silence.

“I never expected it to happen, but it was!” Clair said, the excitement still very notable in her voice. “At what time would it be good to come back here tomorrow?”

“I believe you’ll know that better than I will,” said Tech. “Any thoughts on what you’re going to make?”

“Well, it’s funny that she mentioned berry pies. I was already planning on making one.”

“Sweet,” Wrecker said, already savoring the pie Clair would make.

With the conversation following along those lines, the trio made their way back to the Marauder.

Crosshair and Hunter had taken turns in the refresher upon returning from their hike once Clair and the others had left. The sniper hadn’t said much during the hike, but that much was normal. Hunter had tried to get Crosshair comfortable enough so that maybe he’d open up again, but it didn’t happen, and he figured it simply wouldn’t. With that, Hunter retreated into his cot to calm down his senses, still tired from being outdoors all day.

That left most of the ship free for Crosshair. There was something oddly comforting in the silence, but he couldn’t bring himself to be alone in the cockpit. He’d been thinking of her the entire damn day.

He knew what he was doing. He wasn’t overwhelmed with uncertainty anymore, now it was simply the fact that he knew he was being a jerk to her. Crosshair wasn’t a stranger to being a prick to people he didn’t like, it was actually something he enjoyed. But Clair didn’t deserve it, and he liked her too much for his own good, and that fact wouldn’t leave him alone no matter how much he tried to shove it away. And what was even worse was that he was sure he’d hurt her earlier. He was hurting her. He’d been tense for too long, and he knew that’d at least screw up his aim the next time he grabbed his rifle.

In another effort to calm down, Crosshair went over to where the squad stored their rations and rummaged through the back to find a nice new bottle of Corellian Whisky. He opened it up and poured himself a glass filling it almost to the brink, and he didn’t even bother to put ice in it. He went to sit in front of one of the holopanels and stared at the blue light, letting the smokey taste of the whisky calm his nerves.

Much to his disgust, it calmed his nerves and he was no longer tense, but his thoughts of Clair only increased. Similar to the previous night, after he’d sat out with her in the moonlight, he could only see her smile, hear her laugh. The one thing that made it worse was the newer memory of her walking up to him with that cup of tea that she’d brewed herself. It was a gesture of her gratitude, not only to the squad, but to him. It was one of the kindest things anyone had ever done for him and all he did was go around her and not even bother to look at her for the rest of the day.

He gulped down another glass of whisky and set it down on the holopanel with a thud after he lost track of how many he’d had. His mind continued to dwell on the various images of Clair, not even able to form concrete sentences in his mind other than the fact that the tea she’d made him was the best damn thing he’d ever tasted.

His head was light and he could barely keep his eyes open, and it took him too long to realize his vision had blurred. He tightly shut his eyes and brought a hand to the bridge of his nose only to feel the warm wetness dripping from the corners of his eyes, and at last, he admitted to himself he was weaker than he’d ever been, and all because he’d been wrong.

“Crosshair?”

The sniper didn’t react much to his name. However, seeing him like this made Hunter worried, and he went over and sat in front of Crosshair. He took the empty glass from his brother’s hand and glanced at the bottle to see it was only about half full, and it was then that he caught up on Crosshair’s tears. Hunter hurried to get the alcohol away from Crosshair and he tightly grasped his brother’s wrist.

“Crosshair, please look at me.”

“Go away. I don’t want another lecture.”

“I won’t lecture you,” Hunter said, even though he did plan on doing it. “Just look at me.”

Crosshair’s narrow eyes were sadder than Hunter had ever seen them, but they finally met his.

“You’re right,” Crosshair muttered to then grimace in disappointment. “I’ve been an idiot, haven’t I?”

“You’re allowed to make mistakes,” Hunter said calmly. “And you had her best interest in mind. You were selfless.”

A brief moment of silence engulfed the two brothers.

“But look at what it’s doing to you, man,” Hunter continued. “This can’t go on.”

“If this isn’t the right way, then what is?” Crosshair questioned, not as a challenge to Hunter like it usually was. Crosshair really wanted to know, deep down.

“Look, you don’t have to date her,” Hunter said. “But at least talk to her. Be nice to her, talk to each other. I promise you, it’ll be better than what’s happening now.”

Crosshair didn’t look Hunter in the eyes anymore. His eyes instead drifted over the ground, not really focusing on her.

“I…” He spoke quieter than ever. “I want to date her. I want to hold her… I want to squeeze her, protect her…” More tears ran down his cheeks. “I was out with her last night and you have no idea how much I just wanted to kiss her…”

Hunter gently held Crosshair’s shoulder until his youngest brother finally decided to look him in the eyes.

“Cross… if that’s what you want, then get it. You deserve it. Forget the fears, fuck them. You go get that girl, alright?”

Crosshair took a deep breath and slowly sat up. He fumbled around the controls of the holopanel where he’d left his comm device, and slowly he began to turn it on.

“What are you doing?” Hunter asked.

“Calling her.”

“Wait, not now!”

Just as Crosshair called, Hunter managed to snatch it away from him. Luckily, Crosshair wasn’t aggressive when he was drunk, and he just sulked back in his chair.

“Hello?” Clair answered through the comm. Hunter could notice the way Crosshair flinched at the sound of her voice.

“Sorry! Pocket dial,” Hunter excused and cut the call to put the comm device far away from Crosshair. He then went back to sit next to his brother again, and the two simply remained in silence for what seemed like forever.

“I don’t know how to go about this, Hunter,” Crosshair admitted after a while.

“I’m sure you’ll know how when the time comes,” Hunter comforted. “So long as you choose not to be rude or to shut her out, it’ll be fine.”

“How can you even be sure?”

“I can sense things, Cross. She feels differently around you. Just trust me, alright?”

Crosshair didn’t say anything more. For well over an hour, Hunter sat there with his brother until he deemed it right to try and sober him up a bit. With lots of water and even some caf, Crosshair was eventually more on the sober side, but his eyes were still red and puffy and he refused to talk.

Hunter put away the whisky and caf, and after that, he went to sit with Crosshair one more time.

“They’ll be back soon,” Hunter said.

Crosshair stood up from the chair. “I don’t want them to see me like this. Say I went to bed, will you?”

Hunter would have liked him to greet Clair, but he also knew Crosshair wasn’t in position to. It would be way better for Crosshair to rest, if he could even get any sleep, so Hunter nodded at his brother. With that, Crosshair retreated into his bedroom and lay sleepless on his bed for hours, hoping the next day would eventually come.

Crosshair managed to get a few hours of sleep despite all the caf he’d had, but his head hurt too much for his own pride and any minor noise would make his ears ring. He wondered for a moment if that’s what Hunter’s hearing felt like, but he dismissed the thought and mustered all his courage to bring himself to the refresher.

Out in the hall, it smelled amazing. There was food, freshly brewed caf, and the sound of his brothers laughing and talking. He did his best to hurry in the refresher and then went over to the cockpit where they were all gathered and took a seat in one of the back chairs.

Clair approached him similar to the day before. He’d expected she wouldn’t want to again after the way he’d dismissed her, but there she was, looking down at him with a soft smile. In her hands, she held a cup of black caf that looked strong, as well as a plate of dumplings dipped in sauce that looked spicy.

Crosshair raised a brow. “Hunter told you, didn’t he?”

Shyly, Clair nodded at him.

Crosshair sighed. “What did he say?”

“Only that you’d had a drink too much. I figured you’d need this,” she handed him the caf and the dumplings.

He eyed the food only to look up at her again. “Did you make these?”

Clair wasn’t expecting him to make any more conversation with her, but she welcomed it with a soft smile. “I only made the sauce. We bought the dumplings last night.”

“Huh. So no tea today?”

“I think you need the caf more than the tea today.” With a soft grin, she went back to where his brothers were. As Crosshair ate the breakfast she’d made for him, he found himself feeling way better from his hangover. It was as if Clair had given him a potion to get rid of it.

“Tech tells me you’re going into the village today to cook,” Hunter told Clair. “Where are you going?”

“We met the kindest lady. Her name is Mora and she offered me to use her old bakery installment to cook whatever I want. Naturally, I accepted.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. I’ve no reason to not trust her. Plus, I really want to cook something we can all eat. Will you guys come?”

“Actually, Hunter offered to take me on a hike,” Tech said. “And I’d love to examine more of this planet’s properties.”

“Wrecker, why don’t you come with us?” Hunter added. “You could use the physical activity.”

Crosshair eyed Hunter, realizing what he was doing. Before the sharpshooter could say anything of it, Hunter finished it off.

“Why don’t you take Crosshair with you?”

“Yeah, he’s barely in condition to walk anyway,” Wrecker mocked.

“Hey,” Clair intervened. “FYI, I made him my special anti-hangover sauce. He’ll be beating you in no time.” Then she turned around to see Crosshair. Her eyes were hopeful, but she still didn’t want to expect a yes from him. “Do you want to come?”

Crosshair briefly hesitated. His instinct was to brush her off, to tell her she was right, he’d be fine in no time and he’d rather hike.

But he didn’t follow that instinct.

“Sure,” he said in a soft tone that surprised everyone on the ship.

“Well then, it’s settled,” Tech said. “We’ll do our thing and meet up for a nice lunch.”

“Perfect,” Clair said with a lovely glint of happiness in her voice.

Before everyone set off to go about their day, Crosshair shot Hunter a look. Hunter smiled softly and went up to his brother and pet his shoulder.

“You’ll know what to do,” Hunter encouraged.

Crosshair wasn’t mad, he was actually quite grateful that Hunter would be such a wingman. He was grateful Hunter stood by him for the couple of hours he’d been drunk and miserable, and he was grateful Clair didn’t hate him even if he was a jerk to her beforehand. Of course, the hard part would be living up to all of that, and he simply hoped he didn’t ruin it again.

The key was indeed underneath the largest lavender plant. There were a few keys on the ring, each one labelled with a tiny piece of white paper and neat handwriting. Clair first had to open up the shop and go through it, closing the door once Crosshair went in, carrying all the stuff she’d bought the day before, and afterwards she went to the very back to open the next door.

It was clean and quiet inside. Clair turned on the lights and the wave of nostalgia instantly hit her like a speeder bike. It reminded her so much of the Allium Cafeteria when she’d be the first one there before the sun even came up, determined to begin baking and arranging everything as her crew gradually arrived. The longing squeezed her heart and she found herself standing in the middle of the kitchen reminiscing about her old home.

Crosshair gently set the supplies down and looked at her. He knew what was happening with her, and while he wasn’t much for words, he went to stand beside her. He towered over Clair’s petite figure and he noticed she’d worn the dress again. Clair looked around the bakery as if coming back to the present moment, and next to the oven was a cute, lavender colored apron with a tiny note on it.

Happy baking!

Clair smiled at the note and she placed it folded neatly inside the pocket of her dress to then put on the apron. The apron smelled of lavender and chocolate chip cookies, and it brought her an odd sense of home even though she’d never had that combination. She then turned around and saw Crosshair still observing her, with eyes more curious as opposed to the hardness she’d grown used to.

He may as well have rushed to her and taken her in his arms. He cursed himself for the thought, but she looked too damn cute in that dress and apron.

“Problem?” He shoved the thought aside before he did anything dumb.

Clair smiled and looked down at the ground. “Just some memories of home.” She looked back at him, wondering what had happened to him between the former morning and that moment. She walked up to where he was and began to take the things out of the bag.

“Anything you want to make?” She asked him.

“You know better than I do. What did you plan?”

“I want to make a pie, but the hard part of that will be the dough. The filling will be berry based, and that one comes out really quickly. As for lunch, well…” She held the pack of uncooked dumpling dough up for Crosshair to see. “The ones they sell at the stands are good, but I think my recipe is better.”

Crosshair took the dumplings from her hands. “How about I make these?”

Clair raised a skeptical eyebrow at him. “Do you know what you’re doing?”

He softly smiled. “I think so.”

“Well, I’ll trust you with it.”

Clair arranged every ingredient she’d need for the pie while Crosshair looked through the ones she’d bought for the dumplings, and from that he could pretty much know what she wanted. In no time, he found the pans he’d need and got started on the filling, then the sauce, while Clair worked on the pie with expertise.

Soon, the smell of the sauce invaded the entire kitchen and Clair turned starstruck towards the stove where Crosshair was cooking. She approached and looked into the pot where he was brewing, and then she looked at him.

“You’re quite the mystery.”

“Meaning?”

She chuckled in disbelief. “I never know how to read you.”

“Not many people do.”

Her eyes drifted over to the pot once more. “May I try?”

Crosshair handed her a small spoonful and Clair blushed a bit when she realized he’d feed it to her. They were close together and everything was silent except for the sound of the sauce simmering, and she looked up with that faint blush as Crosshair offered her the spoonful. Being so close to him made her chest flutter. Still, she allowed herself to try it, and when she did, she was blown away. Her eyes shut and she moaned at how good it was.

“It tastes so good!” She celebrated and looked at Crosshair as though she suddenly didn’t know who he was. “It’s amazing! Where did you learn to cook?”

“I look up how to do it in my free time. I’ve cooked before but don’t always get the chance.”

“Well, you have talent…” She said, still in disbelief.

The two of them looked at each other, both not really knowing what else to say or do. If anything, Clair always loved sharing her love for food with other people but sharing it with Crosshair was doing things to her. Her chest still had that flutter and she felt the butterflies in her stomach, and out of pure nerve, she turned around and got working on the dough once more.

As the time went by, Crosshair and Clair grew more comfortable around the other. When the berry filling was done, she walked up behind him with a spoonful, and this time she fed it to him. He wasn’t as expressive, but he did let her know it was incredible. Clair made a full-sized pie for the whole squad as well as a smaller, simpler pie which she and Crosshair could eat beforehand, simply because she could never resist eating what she baked.

Around the same time, the dumplings were done, and they were Crosshair’s little factor of pride for that day. When both were done, they sat around the counter, each with a batch of dumplings and a slice of pie. Clair was joyous in how delicious both recipes had turned out, and Crosshair found himself genuinely smiling at her happiness. He was also really glad he could finally have a taste of what Clair could cook in its full potential, and the two found themselves enjoying the other’s company like they never imagined they could.

Once they were done, it was time to clean up and take the things back to the Marauder. The two of them did an amazing job leaving Mora’s bakery like brand-new, and Clair left a slice of berry pie on a cute plate with a little note of her own for Mora. Just as they were about to leave, Crosshair and Clair hesitated to go out the door.

Their eyes met heavily. Clair wanted to say something to him, but she didn’t quite know what. She could feel the heat on her cheeks and Crosshair’s gaze made her feel protected rather than observed. Her lips curved in a smile that Crosshair found endearing, and it took every ounce of his self-control not to bend down and kiss her.

“Clair, I…”

Her eyes lit up when he spoke, and he suddenly couldn’t find the words. He couldn’t just out and tell her how he felt for her, he’d ruin everything again. Then, Clair saved him by speaking too.

“We have to do this again,” Clair said softly.

He didn’t say anything, but he let out a smooth chuckle that resonated within Clair’s ears, and she knew then that he agreed. She then set a foot out the door, but she stopped suddenly, feeling like there was still something she needed to do. She looked up at Crosshair again with shy, yet loving eyes. She admitted she wasn’t thinking everything through, but she perked up on her toes and leaned towards Crosshair. He bent down and almost felt himself explode when Clair gently kissed him on the cheek. It was a very quick, very subtle kiss, but one that made her fluster entirely and had Crosshair feeling chills all over.

Still with a cute smile, Clair went outside and waited for Crosshair to join her so she could lock the doors. Leaving the little bakery behind, the two of them made their way down the street, speechless, occasionally smiling at each other, letting that small kiss say everything they hadn’t spoken aloud.

Taglist: @zoeykallus @sageislostinspring @misogirl828 @dangerousstrawberrypie @salaminus @ladykatakuri @whore4rex @morganlefaye13 @seriowan @kimageddon @rain-on-kamino @prozacspice

#moonlight series #moonstrider writes #tbb crosshair #tbb crosshair fanfic #crosshair fanfic #the bad batch #tbb fanfic #tbb fanfiction #crosshair fluff #tbb crosshair fluff

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twilightguardian · 1 year

Text

More Discussing Fixing RWBY Criticisms

I've been thinking of doing this for a while, since I know while my initial essay was ungodly long, it wasn't comprehensive. Plus, there's new criticisms and stuff I glossed over in my initial post that started my involvement in all this. Partially because it wasn't as big, but also some of the criticisms require a lot more time, effort and nuance to look through and discuss and my initial post had taken a couple of days to bang out.

I'll start off with a review that was posted due to my involvement in this. I think it was a good review, and it was brought to my attention because Raymond happened to see it and discussed it. This person has unfortunately blocked me, and I don't blame them for it, because I said some things that with my phrasing could be viewed in a less than good light. But I'll explain myself a little bit below, when I talk about my general attitude toward confronting people since I might as well.

I'm mainly posting this as a primer because it's going to encompass most of the criticism. And I think it's fair if the reviewer didn't find the faunus plotline to their tastes. Not everyone is going to be satisfied with it, no matter what and at the end of the day, no matter how hard someone tries, there's going to be issues someone will take with a work, or how a concept is presented, and there's ultimately nothing that can be done with it. The most that an author can do is their sincere best.

I think calling the White Fang 'the bad guys' in Fixing is a little simplistic. Sure, they are an antagonistic force to some extent, but they aren't bad or evil. The first volume has thieves posing to frame the White Fang and cover Roman's tracks. The second volume does have actual White Fang members, recruited by Cinder, and Roman forced in middle management between the two.

But it is established that there is corruption seeping into the organization and disparate groups in some internal political maneuvering in the background as people with different ideas move about among the different branches. This is where we get Onryu, who is only ever mentioned, Adam, who was under Onryu, and then Sienna and Ghira.

Volume 3 has Adam directly involved and pushing White Fang involvement in the Fall of Beacon. Adam abusing his power and influence, and later in Volume 4 blames the actions he pushed for on the Lieutenant who died. I think that pretty clearly establishes that these are individuals and mindsets within and not the White Fang as a whole who are considered bad guys, but people swayed by charisma and ideology to do a man's bidding with the White Fang itself in opposition to it in Volumes 4&5.

As for Blake, she said directly that their parents got a new extension to their home, and later it's stated that Ghira is newly crowned Chieftain.

Getting extra clarification on this, there was mention that Blake was meant to be 12 when she ran away, but her family's class status doesn't actually matter to this other than as background detail. But there was something that we determined was a genuine flub on his part because of this criticism, with him waffling on whether the house belonged to the Belladonna's or the house belonged to the Chieftain who'd move in once elected.

Either way, Blake isn't a rich princess-or-equivalent in Fixing, nor is it meant to imply that she is in the dialogue. I believe he could have been clearer on this, but the scene where he says 'newly elected Chief' is there.

I'm unsure if this is an issue or just stating a fact. But if it is criticism, then I'm not sure how racism being mostly an issue within the minds of individuals is a problem. We saw it be an issue all throughout volume 1 and it's mentioned with Cardin. Weiss' arc is also very much heavily focused on racism, even if her main issue is her perfectionist attitude about her team.

It's a little confusing when it's stated here that they're hoping it'll be treated like a big deal but then implies that they're brushing off everything with Cardin and Weiss as not being enough. I suppose in this person's mind, at least according to what I'm gaining from this review, the only racism worth talking about is systemic? I do not want to assume, but that's what I glean off this.

Well, I'd already said how Blake is not the pseudo Weiss-like character this person seems to think she is. But even so, that doesn't mean Blake hasn't experienced racism in her life. Especially after she joined the White Fang. I'd honestly think that if a faunus family like Blake's could gain that much affluence, then things have improved. And that's the point, isn't it? Adam's a true believer of the cause, and Blake attacked his core motive: One that has driven him to spite and hatred and malice, no matter where it may have started.

He's had a rough situation, but can he see past it? Can he see the concept of a good human? Or that the situation with the faunus has improved, even if there's still work to be done? If what he wants is no longer equality, but revenge, no amount of what happened in his past should justify Blake sitting back and watching Adam hurt innocent people. It's a cycle of hatred and violence, one that is easy to fall into.

That's ultimately the dilemma between Blake and Adam now, though I'm told we'll get a lot more into this as we go through Volume 6.

The comments feel very ideological, and such things can paint one's view of a work. But I just want to say that I don't think Blake's tragedies have to match Adam's in order for her to have an opinion on his extremism. Do I think that Blake being an orphan could make her case stronger? Sure. I don't think it's necessary.

In my rewrite/OW template, my interpretation of the White Fang is much more leaning into religious cult, with its members being raised and indoctrinated into an idea that humans are the enemy and will harm you if you let them. But the White Fang are also not the only racial justice group, with Velvet being a part of one in Vale and takes over as a student representative and leader of the movement at Beacon when the last one graduates.

In Fixing, we just had Ghira and Kali set up an all-faunus disaster-relief force that's separate from the White Fang as well.

There are many different routes that one can go with depending on how close or far one wants to take the ideas and worldbuilding and Blake can be adjusted for to fit the needs of that world.

There have been a couple of Sketchy Huntsman who have addressed this months ago. Your mileage may vary with how successful that was. There are some people who go to extremes with how careful one must tread when addressing other cultures to the point where it's almost not worth it to acknowledge another culture's existence. In writing circles there's also a growing concern over the concept of sensitivity readers hindering a project more than helping.

The term itself is also vague and muddies the conversation, and I much prefer the term 'diversity editor' as it better reflects their role in professional writing and what they're meant to do. But I digress.

This isn't professional writing. It's a fan project meant to expand upon and correct issues with the worldbuilding of this franchise. So what do we have?

This text claims that the Branwen tribe is inspired off the Ainu people. This gives a false impression it's meant to be a 1-1 comparison between real life Ainu peoples and the Branwens. That's not true. The SH who have addressed building up the tribe talked about how the Branwen tribe is a fictional ethnicity and culture that are based on multiple different cultures, not just one. There's elements of Japanese, Chinese, Korean, Mongolian and yes, Ainu. They aren't representative of one ethnic group, nor were they ever intended to be. The main inspiration were those of Mongolian tribes, of which there are many. It was specified Mongolian Steppe Peoples, though there was contention with this use of words.

Pan-Asia is a term and ideology that seeks to unify all elements of Asian peoples. Japan itself has tried to use this term for its own imperialist gain. But for our uses here, Pan-Asian does not work. This isn't a unification of Asian cultures into a single amalgamus blob of Asia. This is creating a fictional ethnicity by taking inspiration from many different real life ethnicities. This contention seems to be under the impression still that no matter what, the ethnicity is still meant to represent a real group of people when that's not true.

I take issue with the idea that creating something by taking elements of other things is inherently bad. That is how art is made. An artist will look up pieces of different clothing to create something that looks similar to, but isn't quite like the sum of its parts. Collages are made out of what inspires you with the design. This is no different, and the exact method used in designing the clothes of the Branwen tribe, and broadly their ethnicity as a whole, made of many things but not directly any of them, but something new. It's fiction. We who write fiction are inspired off the real world, and may at times reflect it, but never copy it lest we get called out for being hacks.

The Branwens are bandits. They are nothing more than bandits in canon, a collection of people who gathered around Raven, though a handful may have been with her since they were young. Fixing turned them into a people.

I repeat that humans cannot create something out of nothing. We don't have that amount of creative freedom, and something is bound to be copied intentionally or not off of something that person has experienced in their lives, or looks up. It is not disrespectful to be inspired, to have no desire to create a perfect representation of a specific peoples in a world that is not reflective of ours.

It is correct that there is a misconception about what the bear is being sacrificed to. The bear, taken from its mother and raised like a person, is then killed off after two seasons with arrows until its throat is slit and the spirit of the god is released back into the mountains. The peoples are gathered for the celebration and the flesh is then eaten.

But the process of killing the god is itself still called a sacrifice, no matter if it is to something or for its own benefit. It is still a sacrificial ceremony where the life of the mortal bear is sacrificed to release the spirit of the god.

To take this concept and apply it to Vernal is called symbolism. Symbolically she is the bear, worshipped and venerated and kept close and raised well, but it is her mother's faults and failings that ultimately get her daughter killed, propping her up as a god and slaughtering her. Symbolism doesn't have to be directly comparable and to think that it must is to stifle creativity and art.

Yes, I have done research on Ainu culture, both because of my own interest with characters in fiction who were directly Ainu, but also because of this. Knowing the meanings behind things, the ceremonies, the practices, the beliefs does not mean I'll necessarily want to replicate it. In a way, like how Ainu art is respectful to the gods by creating something original, not replicating and creating a realistic image, so too does the Branwen's Ainu leanings not reflect the truth out of respect.

Honestly this is the end of the Fixing RWBY section. Stop reading if you don't care about what I have to say below because it's otherwise unrelated because this issue wasn't about Fixing, but the one time I talked about canon (legitimate hot take) and people got upset.

So, here we are. The 'stain' on my time here and the main reason I was blocked by this person in particular. I will clarify I was talking about Shay, not Shiloh, and I differentiate them by calling them by their names depending on whether I'm talking about canon or Fixing. And I was talking about Shay.

In my opinion, Shay did not sexually harass Yang and I'll stand by that. Why? Because I'm not someone who is going to look at every single negative and unwanted interaction and label it as such and my opinions are very strong on this. Sexual harassment can be any unwanted interaction because there is no solid definition. Because I have friends who have told me they witnessed these situations at parties, where the girl is upset the guy leaves and complains to my friend about it because she was playing hard to get so why'd he leave? I've been directly in Yang's situation myself, and arguably worse because the guy did end up touching me.

So why do I not view any of these three examples as sexual harassment? Firstly, context. The guy is drunk, and if anyone who has been around drunk people know, their mental faculties aren't exactly there. That means their booze-addled brains are too stupid to comprehend small little social faux pas like touching someone's hair or (in my case) reaching into someone's mouth because they're wearing fake vampire fangs and drunk brain goes what the fuck is that. He was clearly trying to flirt, not believing the girl he saw was as young as she claimed, because dumbo drunko brain. Yang was calm, slightly annoyed, but engaged in conversation with the guy. To me, thinking about how drunk people can be fucking stupid, can easily see the guy interpreting her engagement in conversation as egging him on and playing hard to get.

Secondly, I simply don't automatically assume malice in anyone, fictional or otherwise until it's made clear to me they're meant to be someone I shouldn't trust. There has to be strong evidence to the contrary, and even after the reveal of him being a bandit, he's played far too much for laughs for me to consider him any amount of legitimate threat.

Thirdly, and this was the thing I was trying to originally say: I don't like calling Yang a victim of sexual harassment. That implies some level of frailty on her part, and she was in control and comfortable in the space and with her abilities the entire time despite the small triggering of small episodes with her shaking hand.

Whether or not someone still agrees with me after this, that's fine. But I do not like the idea of infantilizing Yang as a victim of Shay and that idea triggered something primal in me. But I'm not a sexual assault apologist or whatever for looking into the context and not immediately assuming malintent due to my own personal experiences and the experiences I've heard about from close friends. This isn't out of nowhere. Some people are going to have their own experiences that aren't mine, and they'll interpret the scene a lot more maliciously than I have. I'm not meaning to downplay their experiences, merely state that my own has painted my perception of the scene, as their experiences also painted theirs. But at the end of the day, I stand by Yang was not a victim of sexual harassment.

As for mentioning someone's sexuality, the meaning people took from it was the direct opposite of what I'd intended, and I can in some ways acknowledge if I wrote it in an unclear way. I was trying to say that I did not believe she could use her lesbianism to play dumb on the topic of male dating and flirting because I thought she was too smart for that and didn't believe gay flirting could be that different.

#rwde #rwby #fixing rwby #frwby

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lichfucker · 2 years

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hi and hello! I would love to hear anything you wish to share about "to cross running water"; seeing you tag things for it/talk about it on my dash is always so cool <3

ty for indulging me lskdfsdf g-d where do I even start

'to cross running water' is my black sails vampire fic because I only write vampire fics anymore. some vampire lore says that they can't cross running water, so if you wanna get away from a vampire you basically just need to lead them to a river and then leave them stranded on the other side, which I thought was very cheeky considering. flint is a pirate. literally all he does is cross running water.

I'm hewing pretty closely to canon with it; it's not a full genre/plot swap, it's literally just "black sails but what if flint were a vampire."

I've been alternating back and forth between flint's pov and miranda's pov. and then of course once she dies it'll be all flint all the time lmao. flint is a vampire and thomas had also been a vampire but miranda is human. she is flint's shelter, she is his haven, her blood is what fuels and sustains him. it has the very fun effect of taking her already incredible isolation in canon and cranking it all the way up. miranda is horrifically alone, the bearer of more awful secrets than anyone can fathom, and there's only so much longer she can hang onto this powerlessness before something breaks.

and flint is... a beast. flint is a monster. he's the thing good men fear, what they tell their children to fear. he's been deemed an abomination for so many reasons, in so many ways. he has a primal rage, an insatiable bloodlust, a conviction that he is meant to lead and to rule. he is the man who cannot die, who can only be unmade in sunlight. all the interplay of dark and light, the thematic resonance of night and day. all of that is canon. I'm just adding fangs.

tcrw is also slowburn silverflint because of course it is lmao. I'm writing it in order because I Need To but uhh I have some plans for later scenes that are. the closest I will ever come in my life to writing smut. so. there's that. I just think that the eroticism of the vampire figure is important, and every vampire fic I've written approaches it differently. this one meets it head-on.

mmm I posted the whole first miranda section a little while ago... since you so patiently sat through this infodump I'll give you a bit from the first flint section :3

It's far from the most depraved thing Flint has done today but wringing Singleton’s blood out of his shirt only to lick it back up is certainly undignified. He takes no pride in wiping his cheeks with the back of his hand before all but shoving his entire fist into his mouth, but in the privacy of his cabin, hunger so putrid and bellowing it rots in him, he finds he cannot truly feel ashamed of it, either.

He does what he must. Hunger alone won’t kill him, his infernal constitution made of sterner stuff, but he needs the strength. It’s a horrid combination, endurance and enfeeblement, the knowledge that he could be utterly hollowed out and still he must crawl his way through every rotation of the Earth, dragging his pathetic body ever closer to the end of time, his only true hope at final oblivion save for the business end of a wooden stake. But until such a fate becomes inevitable he will do what he can to avoid it, even if it means slurping Singleton’s blood off of each finger with indulgent obscenity. He feels invigorated with it, however slight the nutrition from feeding like this, and the adrenaline still thrums through him, all abuzz with the satisfaction of a good fight. Flint enjoys fighting in the sun. That enfeeblement he so dreads, the sun is its ultimate benefactor, its rays draping weakness across his shoulders like a heavy cloak, weighing him down. He’s known of others, throughout the years, who are flayed alive by the daylight, or whose skin breaks out in unbearable burns and blisters (Thomas, in particular, glittered in the sun as though his skin were made of crushed diamonds while ghastly red welts that stung and hissed were bubbling beneath the surface, threatening to burst), but Flint is merely dampened by it, his preternatural strength and speed made natural. It humanizes him. A daylit skirmish presents a challenge, his muscles heavy and his reflexes sluggish; he has no biological advantage, only his skill and his drive. Such a fight is as close to fair as one could ever be—and still Flint has yet to be bested. Still his might reigns supreme. At his weakest he is still the pinnacle of them. When will it be enough? When will they learn? Thomas’ voice, in that almost paternalistic way, slinks out of the depths of Flint’s mind, beseeching, What have you got to prove? Well, everything, it would seem. It was Singleton today. It’ll be someone else tomorrow. The ever-constant threat of mutiny breathes hot on his neck like a slobbering dog. If they’re going to be dogs, my sweet, I will show them the wolf. Miranda hates to be cooped up in that little house, stranded on the island for weeks at a time, but she hates even more to see him like this, the lengths he must go to secure any sort of existence for her. At least locked away in the interior she does not have to see the animal in him. The new cook saw it today. Everyone saw it, to be sure, Flint’s captive and captivated audience, but Mr. Silver saw it for the first time today. Mr. Silver recognized it today. Flint stood there, quaking, snarling, drenched in his soon-to-be lunch, and he caught Mr. Silver in his teeth, held him in place as those ice-blue eyes reckoned with the beast before him.

#jadeandquartzes #thanks jade #long post #bluh bluh #tcrw tag

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longroadhcme · 1 year

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Got a secret? Don't keep it, it'll take you to the grave.

Good evening, residents of McKinley. If you’ll please find your assigned seats, we have a special treat in store for you tonight. As you take your seats, you’ll notice a placecard in front of you with one simple instruction, “confess thy secrets or sacrifice thy neighbor to earn entry to leave.”. Go on now, look to your left and to your right. Is your secret worth your neighbor's life? No, no. Don’t try to leave – you can’t. See, we had this planned far ahead. As soon as you took your seats, you were spelled to them until you either sacrificed your neighbor's life or confessed a dark secret. You didn’t think this was going to be a cheery holiday dinner did you? There’s been far too many secrets and not enough lives falling victim for the abundance of supernatural beings here. One way or another, the night will end in our favor. Secrets or blood spilled - it’s your choice. So? Go on now, confess your secret or sacrifice your neighbor. We’ll be watching.

WHAT A ROYAL SHIT SHOW. There was no other way to explain it. The brunette looked around the table, taking note of the secrets pouring out. Damon immediately turning her way, and catching her entirely off-guard. All whilst the love of his life sat a seat away from them. Shit. What the hell was she supposed to say to that? She’d overheard Klaus divulging the details to Stefan, leaving a rather bitter taste in her mouth, as she looked back on their conversations, a lot of it feeling untrustworthy. His feelings weren’t exactly where they would be right about now, had he actually know how he felt about the doppelganger, and their journey to this point. A journey that even Rose pushed him towards, from beyond the grave. It wasn’t time for her to comment on his confession. That’s a conversation for when they were alone, and not sat at a table with his ex, and far too many prying ears for their own good. Instead, it was her turn to share. “Damon,” she commented, sighing slightly as she knew she wasn’t going to indulge him, and would bypass his remark entirely, “the reason I’m back,” tongue gliding across her lips as she began to explain, knowing it was too soon, and ultimately, this still couldn’t be shared with his brother, “it’s for Stefan.” Eyes quickly darting around the table, as she came to terms with just who was going to be aware of the circumstances, but she was hopeful that they could still keep this under wraps for now. “As a whitelighter, I have a designated charge, whom I protect, and guide. Stefan is that person.” Another brief pause, finally stating why he was the soul she’d been tasked with. “He’s going to be chosen as a Whitelighter. His death, it’s not final. The cure isn’t the end of the road for him.” There was so much more for him to achieve in this life, and the next. And for that reason alone, he couldn’t know yet. Certain decisions, mistakes if you will, would need to help guide him to the state of being needed to ultimately become the person he was meant to be. “But, he can’t know. Not yet.”

#sanguishqs.event #answered.#answered : rose-marie ortega.#answered : rose-marie ortega & damon salvatore.#answered : rose-marie ortega & stefan salvatore.

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stellocchia · 3 years

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Thinking about how I would interpret the various people from the Dream smp winning the elytra contest:

Tubbo: Built the wings himself. They have a certain steampunk vibe to them. Really bulky, but also really cool looking.

Tommy: Moth wings. Screw everyone who says otherwise, man is a moth hybrid. But, well, insect wings are very fragile and he’s never felt safe enough to use them until now.

Ranboo: Recently received a gift from the council. It's a rare item that can be found only in the end. They hope it'll help him remember, it probably won't.

Georgenotfound: Got gifted some wings from DreamXD. He is not sure why or when, and he's not even entirely certain they're real. He may simply still be dreaming...

Sapnap: Lava wings. They're very droopy. He hasn't been maintaining them too well, and only recently got back into taking the lava baths he needs for them regularly.

Sam: He also built his own wings. They're lava-powered and look as if they were made of obsidian. They were initially meant to be part of the guard's uniform for the prison but... well. He's the only one working there, isn't he?

Ponk: Stitched them onto themselves as a medical experiment. They don't know how to take them off now, but they seem to work?

Bad: Huge af demon wings. He's 9'6 so his wings actually have to be enormous. Only reason why he hasn't used them before is that he was afraid to hit someone with them. Turns out he does that anyway even without using them, so there's really no reason anymore.

Fundy: The bird genes from his grandpa are finally manifesting. Perhaps biology does make some sense on the smp finally!

Wilbur: Pretty sure that's just a piece of the void sticking to him. Straight up ripped a piece of Limbo and brought it with him when he came back. Just another thing he hates about himself.

Punz: He knew someone high up who owed him a favor. Don't ask.

Purpled: Alien tech! He couldn't repair his ufo entirely, and those are his best bet to get off-server while he's working on his new one. They're meant to be a temporary solution, but they're pretty cool.

Eret: Flamingo wings. Ngl, they sort of forgot they had them.

Jack Manifold: similar to Wilbur's situation, but Jack's wings are very glitched. He was too afraid to die again to try and use them, but he's got to a point now where he doesn't care too much if that actually happens.

Niki: Hand-sewn wings that she made herself. It took ages for her to find a way to make them work, but having something like that to busy herself turned out to be really rewarding.

Quackity: He's a shapeshifter. He decided to change up his features a bit. Maybe he's getting ready for a fight he's certain will happen soon, who knows...

Karl Jacobs: Acquired them at some point during his travels. Much like George he's not sure how, when, or why that happened, but he's not complaining

HBomb: The power of anime bestowed them upon him. He did a full magical girl transformation and now they're there

Techno: Crafted them himself. They're not a marvel of engineering like they would be if Tubbo or Sam created them, but more so the result of months of him studying magic and alchemy for it. They were initially meant for Phil, but he screwed up the incantation.

Phil: They're prosthetics. He had to wait a long time for them because wing prosthetics are quite an expensive and complicated thing to obtain, but finally, he has them.

Ant: There's a whole lot of myths about cats with bird wings, so I'd say Ant finally ascended to his ultimate form of big ass cat with bog ass eagle wings.

Puffy: Went on an adventure after years of not sailing the sea and found an incredible treasure. She's pirating again and it's paying off, good for her honestly.

Foolish: Totems naturally have wings. He only stopped using them as a sign of respect for the rules of the server, but he's been shackled long enough now, wouldn't you say?

Hannah: Wings of thorny vines sprouted from her back as she started healing from the Egg's influence and reconnecting with nature.

Eryn: They just had them. They're probably an avian and we just didn't know yet.

Michael: Similarly to Eryn, he's just a winged hybrid.

Slimecicle: Well, once upon a time a little slime evolved in the course of thousands of years to become a human... what do you mean humans don't have wings? Oh well... he likes them now... maybe we can make an exception for him?

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that-sarcastic-writer · 3 years

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Coach (1)

Fandom: Dylan O'Brien

Pairing: AU Dylan x Fem!Reader

Mini series summary: Being a newly single mom of two kids wasn't exactly easy. And love wasn't exactly part of your agenda. So, should you avoid lusting over your son's baseball coach? Absolutely. But with a man like Dylan, could you really resist? Probably not.

Warnings: nothing major yet, small sexual innuendo, mentions of cheating and divorce

WC: 1.9k

A/N: a yes, to those who have been following me for a while may recognize this title, it's my old Dylan AU fic. Yes I decided to continue it. Updates will come periodically, because I write spontaneously and I cant guarantee quick updates. But I do promise I wont wait a whole year to update. And since I did some slight updates in the first 2 parts I decided to archive the old ones and repost them again. So yeah, if you've read them before great, give it another read, my writing is much better now I promise and if you're new welcome, I hope you like this mini series.

(You are here, part 2, part 3)

Dylan stood by the side of the large field, near the home plate, occasionally yelling out suggestions and pointing out mistakes to the young boys.

"Ezra! You have to watch the ball! C'mon! I know you can do better!" He called out to the blonde boy standing on the home plate with a bat in hand. Dylan then turned his attention to the dark haired boy with the baseball mitt and ball in hand.

"Roman! What's going on, buddy? You gotta focus, alright? You gotta work on that throw!" Dylan called out to the young boy, who half nodded and sighed heavily in response.

Not long after, Dylan signaled the young boys scattered throughout the large field to gather around. He spoke some encouraging words to the boys before allowing them to disperse and gather their equipment which meant practice was over.

Your son, however, stayed behind for a minute. There was an inaudible conversation happening between Dylan and your ten year-old, Roman. You watched from the bleachers as your son made some tired gestures at his coach followed by a small pat on the back from Dylan. You couldn't help but follow them with your eyes as they made their way to the bleachers, your eyes lingering a bit too long on the brown haired coach. An action that wasn't taken lightly by the female sitting beside you.

"You're staring at him again." Your best friend, Ezra's mother, Eliza -or just Liz, commented.

"I'm not." You muttered out quickly, tearing your eyes away from the handsome coach, your mouth hanging open for a couple of seconds. "I wasn't staring." You stated matter of factly and shrugged as you looked down at the small six year-old sitting on your lap, making sure she wasn't paying attention to the conversation.

"Really? The drool coming from your mouth says otherwise." Liz playfully ran her finger across your chin, pretending to wipe away at it. You slightly glared at her, an eye roll going her way.

"I'm not drooling. I wasn't even staring." You tried to defend yourself, making a small sassy gesture to her.

"Hey, I don't blame you. If I wasn't married," she took a pause as she eyed Dylan as he removed his baseball hat to run a hand through his messy chocolate locks, you couldn't help but stare as well. "I'd jump on his bones any day."

"Hey, there's young ears present." You said quietly to Liz as not to disturb the young girl in your arms.

Despite your attempt not to, you couldn't help but allow your eyes to fall once again on the field, following the handsome male that was the topic of your conversation. You had to hide the infatuated sigh that left your lips at the sight of your son's coach running around the field, talking to the kids and picking up equipment.

"Well he is handsome, I'll give him that.." You admitted quietly, "and he's really good with the kids."

Your friend smirked slightly at your words and wiggled her eyebrows at you.

"I bet that's not the only thing he's really good at." She eyed you suggestively and slightly nudged at you with her shoulder, "You should find out what other things he's good at."

Your mouth instantly fell open and your eyes widened at the insinuation.

"Eliza! Oh, my god. Don't say that." You slightly shook your head to brush off the embarrassment and hid your face on your hands to cover the crimson on your skin.

"Mommy you're warm!" Athena, your six year-old giggled as she grabbed your warm, sweaty hands. Even your daughter noticed the nervousness that crept up on you when it came to Dylan, even if it was just the topic of him. Truth was, you had been shamelessly crushing on your son's baseball coach ever since he joined the team a couple of months ago.

Get it together, you should not be crushing on your son's baseball coach.

"I know baby, it's just hot out here." You tried to brush it off, but the knowing smirk on Liz's face wasn't exactly helping. "Thena, why don't you go get Roman and Ezra? They're over there." You pointed to the field where Roman and Ezra were talking —or more like just Ezra was, to the other kids on the team. She quickly nodded and bolted off the bleachers, somehow not tripping over the steps as she went down. You sighed heavily the moment the young girl was far enough and slightly turned your head in Liz's direction.

"You should totally ask him out." She said out of nowhere with a shrug and a smirk on her face. Your eyes widened for the hundredth time, and you instantly shook your head frantically, the idea alone giving you a headache.

"Ask Dylan out? No way. I.. No.. That's just.. No." Your cheeks slightly heat up at the preposition. But you quickly turned it down with a vigorous shake of your head, not even giving the idea a minute to sink into your brain. "No, he's Roman's coach. It's just wrong."

"Why? I mean, you're single, and as far as I know, he's very single. Soo," she dragged the 'o' as she wiggled her eyebrows and she nudged your shoulder, pushing you over a little in a high school girl manner, "Why not get ready to mingle with the hot coach?"

"First of all, I'm technically not single, not yet." You groaned with an eyeroll. As much as you and your husband —or ex-husband or whatever were no longer living together, the divorce process had been unnecessarily long and dreadful. So as much as you wanted to be legally single, you were still married to that piece of shit.

"And second of all, if I were to date someone, which is a big if, I can't date Roman's coach out of all people. He already has enough as it is. It'll just confuse him and probably upset him more." You sighed heavily as you looked over to the side of the field, where all the boys were having a conversation about elementary boys' things. And there you saw your son, trying, and ultimately failing at joining said conversations. And with little Athena tugging at his side, all he got from the other kids was laughing and rejection.

Seeing your son's sad and hurt expression when the other boys laughed at him or even told him to go away broke your heart. You wanted him to be happy again. You wanted him to be the energetic and loving kid he was before your waste of a husband left. Ever since Ryan —your waste of a husband left, Roman hasn't been the same.

For the past six or so months, he has been distant and seemingly unhappy. All he ever did was lock himself up in his room and play video games. He barely ever interacted with you and Athena anymore. He barely interacted with anyone, period. Once Ryan left, it was up to you to support your kids financially. Of course, their father still paid child support, but he sure as hell didn't pay your bills or everything you needed to spend on your children. Which meant you had to take him out of the fancy school he went to in order to still pay the monthly expenses of your home. And he just didn't quite fit in at school, especially now.

So, you hoped that him joining the baseball team would change that, that it would help him open up again and that it would help him make new friends. But so far, it's worked just the opposite.

"So, I'm making dinner tonight. Do you want to come over with the kids and get drunk? Luke will watch over the kids." Liz spoke, interrupting your train of thought.

"That sounds a-mazing," you spoke in a song-like tune, a sigh of contentment leaving your lips. "But I can't. I told Roman I'd take him to that Italian place he likes."

"Tomorrow then. I'll have that Chardonnay you love so much waiting for you." She winked at you as you both stood up, ready to greet your children.

"Thank God for your alcohol stash." You joked, flinging your arms up in praise.

You both laughed and smiled in your children's direction, but your smile dropped as your kids and Ezra approached you. Ezra was holding Athena's hand, while Roman walked behind them, with a certain heaviness on his step and an annoyed look on his face. And Athena had a small pout on her face.

"Hey, what's wrong?"

"Rome doesn't want to hold my hand!" Athena whined with a pout of her lower lip. She released Ezra's hand and exchanged it for your own. Ezra going to his own mom. While Roman simply stood there, with a hand stuffed into his pockets and the other messing with the strap of his bag, his gaze stuck on the ground.

"Roman, baby," you sighed softly, not wanting to give the poor kid a hard time. You understood he didn't exactly fit in, no matter how much he wanted to, and that upset him. You didn't want to add up to that. "Your sister just wanted you to hold her hand."

"She was embarrassing me.. I'm already the kid without a dad, I don't need to be the kid with an annoying baby sister." He muttered, his gaze not once leaving the ground.

His words were harsh, but lacked emotion. And it broke your heart. But as much as you wanted to tell him that it wasn't true, that he did have a dad, you'd be lying if you did. Ryan was already absent in your children's lives before the split, but at the same time he was there, and Roman felt as if he was. But now, his father really wasn't there, at all. And there was nothing you could do about it.

You sighed softly, gesturing your free hand out for him, "Roman, come here," a heavy sigh left the young boy's lips as he took a few steps closer, standing in front of you with his head hanging low and his eyes stuck to the ground. You used your hand to hold the side of his face, his eyes meeting with your own. "Baby, Thena just wanted to show you that she loves you. She didn't mean to embarrass you, right Thena?" You turned your attention to the small girl that hid behind your arm, her eyes glistening with tears.

The small girl sniffled and shook her head, "No.. I'm sorry Rome.. I won't do it ever again, I-I promise."

You exchanged looks between your children, your eyes finally landing on Roman as you waited for a response. You raised an eyebrow at him, your eyes speaking a silent 'and' to the boy. He eventually signed, almost too heavily, and nodded.

"It's okay, I guess.. I don't really mind all that much." He half smiled, shrugging slightly.

Athena's expression quickly lightened, the small girl detached herself from your hand and hugged her older brother. And as much as he hated to admit it, he didn't mind the affection. He returned the hug and smiled, for a moment at least.

After a second or two, Roman slightly pushed Athena off him, signaling that that had been enough affection for a day. You breathed out softly, turning to look at Liz, who gave you a sympathetic smile in response.

"Well my loves, off we go. Say goodbye to Auntie Liz and Ezra." Both your children did as you said. Athena hugging both of them, and Roman simply waving at them. Good enough.

And at last, you gave Liz a quick but tight hug, "I'll call you tomorrow." You said shortly before you grabbed a hold of your daughter's hand and your son's bag, and eventually parted ways.

Today was gonna be a long day.

《Here's an edited version of part 1. As always I hope y'all enjoyed it. I'm trying to get back into writing after a long year, hopefully this will help me get back on track. Let me know your thoughts. And let me know if you'd like to be added to my dylan/coach taglist which I do have》

#dylanobrien #dylan o brien #dylan obrien imagine #dylan obrien smut #dylan obrien fanfic #dylan obrien x reader #dylan obrien series #coach #coach series

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