#instead of uncle jokes it's just uncle brain farts
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labyrinth | peter parker
pairing: peter parker (andrew garfield)/gn!reader
additional tags: fluff, meet cute
warnings: referenced character death (gwen), angst
summary: peter finds love again nearly a decade since gwen's death.
note: this is like. a brain fart. i barely proofread this so like i'm just gonna HOPE it's not complete ass. happy reading!
The air was already biting cold in November. Peter had been sitting on the same bench for about an hour now, orange leaves clinging to his coat. Every so often, he would break out of his trance to brush them off. Gwen had gotten it for him on their first Valentine’s Day together after she saw him wearing one of his uncle’s old ones. She joked about how it made him look like he was hiding little packets of crack in his pocket. His lips twitched into a smile before he inhaled deeply, trying to remember the sound of her laugh. The real sound of her laugh, not the one that crackles through the speakers of his old laptop whenever he missed her. It’s been that long. He was always terrified he’d forget her: how her eyes twinkled when she learned something new, how her hair always seemed to be perfectly in place, or how her scent took over his room after every visit.
There were days when he couldn’t even get out of bed, too consumed by his grief to move a muscle. On the flip side, there were days when he could feel like himself again. Days where he allowed himself to smile and just be the nerd he’d always been. He knew it was what Gwen would’ve wanted. By some miracle, it was what she fell in love with. She loved Peter Parker and that was the only reason he had to not lose himself as Spider-Man. Despite it all, he found it got easier with time. It was easier to live with himself now. It was easier to accept that it wasn’t his fault. Four years has passed since her death and he was just barely accepting it still, but it didn’t hurt so much anymore.
It was rare for him to have the time to just go out and enjoy what the city had to offer. New York could be a real piece of work: that was evident from just how much Spider-Man had to deal with in the past few months, but it was home. Central Park was a place he hadn’t visited in a while, so he tried to not dwell in his thoughts too much and enjoy the rare opportunity. Admittedly, there wasn’t much to do but people-watch, but it was a nice change of pace for Peter. With how hectic things were at work on top of his responsibilities as a vigilante, he was exhausted. He was tired of being Peter Parker. It was nice to just be invisible for once.
He snorted. If middle-school Peter heard that, he would’ve been firmly smacked on the head by his younger self. He always wanted to fit in with the cool kids back then. He achieved that to some degree. Sure, he was more well-known as a dweeb rather than a cool guy, but he was still well-known. Even now, he realized his desires didn’t change all that much. It’s just that this time, he wished he could have a house and a dog and a proper job and be friends with normal people. Instead, he was still renting an apartment in a less-than-ideal part of town that he could barely keep. Before he could slip further into his self-deprecation, he was pulled away from his thoughts by something sitting next to him. On his right was a puppy, no more than a year old, slobbering all over the bench with a bright green ball in its mouth. Peter could only stare at it before the puppy carefully placed the wet ball on his lap, urging him to throw it. Before he could do anything, you jogged up to them and picked up both the dog and the ball.
“I’m so sorry, sir! I don’t know what’s gotten into him lately!” your eyes wandered down to the wet patch on Peter’s thigh where the ball used to be. “God, you don’t have somewhere to be, do you? I’m really, really sorry!”
You were really jittery. That was the only word Peter could think of to describe you. You didn’t know where to put your hands: between holding the happy pup, the ball with said pup’s drool all over it, or trying to introduce yourself to the man your dog decided was “the chosen one”, Peter was pretty entertained. Then he felt bad.
“It’s no problem really,” he reassured you before pointing to the troublemaker in your arms fondly. “You’ve got a cute puppy. Too bad I didn’t get to throw the ball though.”
The sigh of relief you let out must’ve been cartoony because you swore you saw him smile, then he stood up and handed you a handkerchief. You looked at it for a few moments before accepting it with your one wet free hand gratefully. He remembered thinking at the time that you looked so welcoming. Like a friend you can always talk to even if you haven’t seen each other in a while. It might’ve been his senses messing with him, but the air felt clearer then. Your arrival cleared a fog in his mind, and he didn’t even know your name. So he told you his instead, his gloved hand touching yours for the first time in what seemed to be just a polite handshake. Looking back on it now, perhaps that was the first sign.
You told him your name, trying not to stare at the man in front of you. His eyes were so… kind. They were big and round and full of wonder, maybe a little dampened by age. Kind but tired. They should’ve been just as average as any other set of eyes you’ve seen, but when the sunlight hit them just right, it reminded you of swirls of honey. The rest of him surely didn’t disappoint. Maybe a few seconds in, you realized you must’ve been gawking at him, so you said your goodbyes and tried to forget about it on the way home.
Not that you could, but he couldn’t either.
A couple of weeks had passed. His patrols happened less often now with him working so much during the day. Between the bills and the pressure of being a functioning adult, Peter found it difficult to keep his head above water. He stared at his reflection in the full-length mirror he got from May’s old stuff. He was older. He was sadder. The suit still fit as well as it could, but squeezing into it was more of a chore now than an exciting flipping-of-the-switch into his alter-ego. His hands shook, if only for a moment, before he pulled down the mask over his head. The fire escape creaked under his weight before bouncing back into place as Spider-Man finally leaped off and swung into the night.
“It’s just another patrol,” he reminded himself. “You get this done and you can get some sleep.”
It must’ve been two hours into his patrol when he heard you. His ears perked up at the sound of your voice. Before he could even register what was happening, his body was already swinging its way to you.
“Sherlock!” you called out. “Sherlock! Where are you?”
This was impossible. You loved your dog to bits but you’d think he’d think twice before dashing away from you at the slightest rustle of a bush.
“You need some help?” a voice came from behind you.
You jumped and swung your fist at whoever it was. Peter managed to narrowly avoid your sucker punch so he stepped back and held up his hands, in fear of freaking you out even more.
“WOAH! Woah, woah, hey…” he tried to calm you down, his actions about as frantic as your own. “I’m Spider-Man! I’m here to help!”
Red and blue spandex. Wide white lenses. Your mind finally processed what was going on in front of you. Spider-Man was here.
Holy shit, Spider-Man was here.
Once again, you were apologizing to him. Not that you would ever know that it was the same person. You explained that you were trying to find your dog, and he listened. He clung to your every word, whether he meant to or not. That same fog in his head cleared up and soon he found himself engaging in easy conversation with you as you both searched the neighborhood for your dog. He felt light, like this was the simplest thing ever. Why was it so easy to be with you?
How long has it been since he was in the company of someone other than May? Someone who wasn’t from Midtown High who would awkwardly comment on how different he looked. Someone who wasn’t from the Bugle who would sneer at him every time he messed up because he was exhausted. How long has it been since he spent time with somebody who could get to know him the way normal people did?
He tried to shake off these thoughts. Who said anything about the two of you getting to know each other anyway? Peter looked back at you from the dark alleyway. You were on the opposite side of the street from him, hellbent on finding Sherlock. A happy bark echoed from his side of the street. The puppy he once could’ve scooped up with one arm was now thrice the size of what it used to be. Sherlock stopped to smell Peter. The dog barked once again, as if to say “Hi, I remember you!”, and then ran back to you before you could burst into tears of frustration.
For a minute or two, Peter stayed just to watch. You were so gentle with your pup, so genuinely concerned for its wellbeing that it struck something inside of him. With how long he’s been Spider-Man and how much he lost as a consequence of it, he often forgot that people like you still existed. He forgot that there were still good people in this world, people who would do the same thing he did if they were the ones bitten by a radioactive spider. People that would help a tourist get to their hotel safely, reunite a mother with their child or, like you, spend the rest of the night looking for their dog in the freezing cold.
Peter tried to leave as soon as he could because there was something about you he couldn’t quite figure out and he didn’t like it. He didn’t like not knowing what it was about you that rekindled a flame in him he thought he’d lost. You didn’t even get a chance to thank him properly. He shot one web after another and then it was back to work.
Your voice and Sherlock’s cheerful barks echoed after him, “Thank you, Spider-Man!”
He felt himself smiling underneath the mask. Even if it was just for that night, he felt like the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man again. For you, the walk home was peaceful, even with the ever-present noise of the city in the background, but you felt safe. Since that first meeting with the masked hero, you’d feel that someone was watching you every now and then… and you knew exactly who it was. It was always a blip of red and blue in your peripheral, but it was more than enough.
In February, you got laid off from your job. You’d seen it coming but that didn’t mean it still wasn’t a complete pain in the ass. You just turned up to work, got handed your box of stuff, and sent on your way. It all happened so fast. Next thing you knew, you were sitting in some dingy old bar, your box of stuff forgotten in the trunk of your car while you nursed your drink. Some guy took a seat a couple of stools away from you, huffing as he rested his head on the counter.
It took you a while to recognize him.
“Hey! We’ve met before… Peter, right?”
Peter sat upright then, an awkward smile adorning his face as he turned to you. He stopped himself from speaking right away. After all, you met him once. He met you twice, both as himself and Spider-Man. He had to keep that in mind.
“Oh, uh, yeah! From Central Park?”
You laughed, “Yeah. From Central Park.”
There it was again. The ease of the conversation. The natural flow of your back and forth banter. He couldn’t tell if it was just you or his heart finally giving in after years of self-isolation that brought about this sense of calm, but he was grateful for it all the same. You told him about what just happened earlier that day and… something pushed Peter to just take one more step into the deep end.
“You could come work at the Bugle,” he blurted out. Fuck. You’re so stupid, Peter.
“What? The Daily Bugle? The newspaper?” you repeated in disbelief, all of your attention now on him as you shifted in your seat. It was overwhelming. Why was it so overwhelming? This was only the third time he’s talked to you!
Maybe it was liquid courage, but he found himself nodding and just going down the rabbit hole of trying to convince you to apply, “I mean, you’ve been at that company for how many years? And I heard they don’t just hire anyone, too. If anyone could land a spot at the Bugle, it’s you,”—he grinned and put on an accent—”mi amigo.”
You stared at him, perplexed. Then, a smile. You were his friend.
“Okay.”
“Okay,” he smiled back, trying to hold back the hope blooming in his chest. “I guess… I’ll be seeing you again soon?”
You wasted no time writing down your number on a piece of tissue and sliding it over to him, “You bet, Parker.”
In the safety of his one-bedroom apartment, Peter smiled at the messy line of numbers you scrawled on the two-ply tissue. He called you the day after, eagerly telling you abut what life at the Bugle was like. In true Spidey fashion, he was honest about it. His horror stories of his boss didn’t seem to faze you at all. In fact, it only made you more determined to apply and prove yourself. He admired that.
One call became two, and two became three. And one after that… and another after that. That wasn’t counting the daily texting that ensued in between. Peter found himself looking forward to your texts in the morning, when he finally fixed his sleep schedule just enough to wake up before his alarm started blaring. By the time you were officially an employee of the Daily Bugle, he couldn’t contain his excitement.
It was exhilirating to not be alone anymore. It was even better when he realized your cubicle was just right next to his. Peter made it his mission to ensure your work experience was a fun and pleasant one. It was so unequivocally him to do something like that. Each gesture started out small: he decorated your desk with two succulents when you started out. After a while, he would leave candy on top of your paperwork while you went to the bathroom. He always denied this. Then there were the sticky notes.
Peter didn’t come to work regularly, he was juggling two other freelance jobs most of the time but he always, without fail, managed to leave a sticky note on your computer if he wasn’t going to be around the next day. Like his other acts of kindness, these started small too. Imagining him hunched over a desk and writing these notes just for you made you more flustered than you could even begin to admit.
“Don’t forget to eat!”
“You’re doing such a good job :)”
“YOU’RE SO AWESOME!!! >:D”
But your favorite, favorite one, the one you kept safe in your phone case, was the note he left when you finished some of his paperwork for him. The two of you never spoke about the notes he left, both too scared to ruin the comfortable dynamic you’ve created. The very next morning, that familiar bright yellow poked out from in between the stacks of paper on your desk. You remembered the warmth you felt as you read his words. Something about his handwriting only intensified that.
“My hero :D Tell me how to make it up to you, you beautiful human being,” followed by a doodle of you in a Spider-Man costume.
One day, when he’s ready, maybe Peter would tell you how you saved a life just because you finished his work for him. In your own act of kindness, you allowed him to start his patrol earlier and save a teenage girl from getting mugged, or worse. When you invited him over to your house that weekend and saw the angry bruise on on his cheekbone, he let you tend to the cuts that were littered all over his body. He let himself bask in your gentleness and care and sweetness and everything that made you, you. You asked him if he got attacked. He shook his head and ignored the sting of the hydrogen peroxide.
“I fell into some bushes while hiking. Turns out it had thorns,” he lied. Lying to you didn’t feel great.
Instead of prying any further, you laughed and told him to be more careful. He could’ve sworn the room felt brighter then.
In June, May came over to his apartment to drop off some good homemade food; something she was sure he had gone far too long without, since his culinary taste consisted solely of instant noodles and microwaveable meals. The TV hummed in the background as the older woman made some small talk with her nephew. The realization that he was no longer a little boy dawned on her. It wouldn’t be the first time it’s happened, but it was a hard pill to swallow. May saw how tired and beaten down he was, especially after Gwen’s death, and it wasn’t until recently that she noticed a change in the young man. The stubble he always forgot to shave was nowhere to be seen, his unkempt hair finally trimmed into a manageable shape, and his eyes were brighter. He was still tired, but he was happy. For a brief moment, she saw the little boy she used to bathe and sing to before bed.
Peter was too busy munching on the chicken casserole she prepared to see his aunt smiling at him. Finally, she decided to speak up.
“Who is it, Peter?”
He looked up, not expecting the question, “Who’s what?”
“Who’s making you happy?”
Peter thought about it for a while, not sure if the answer he’ll give was actually the right one to describe what had transpired these last few months, “I made a friend, I guess. They’re really nice and uh… they just started working for the Bugle. So. I see them more often.”
May nodded, a content smile on her face as she processed the information. A coworker. A friend.
“Tell me about them, they seem nice.”
Peter hesitated for a second, only to be reminded of your face and your bad jokes and your dog. Nice was an understatement. You were amazing.
“They are. Nice, I mean. We just sort of ran into each other at Central Park and then I saw them again a couple of months later and I recognized them. They’re… they make me feel comfortable. Appreciated, you know? I haven’t had somebody to talk to like this since—” he stopped.
Since.
Since Gwen.
In the time Peter’s known you, not once did he think about her. Then that horrible sinking feeling in his gut came. Years of falling and learning how to get back up went down the drain because he was reminded once again of what he lost. His thoughts were running a thousand miles a minute, all of them connecting back to that one fact that he was sure would haunt him forever: Gwen Stacy was dead and she would stay dead and Peter couldn’t do anything about that, no matter how much he wished he could. Somewhere, deep down, a part of him never really grew up. How could he? What gave him the right to live the life he wanted when she couldn’t live hers because he couldn’t catch her?
Then you came into his life and pulled him out of his self-imposed exile. All at once, it was you flooding his senses and you weren’t even there. This was wrong. This was all wrong.
May could only watch her nephew go through a whole lifetime’s worth of pain all over again. In a flash, he was gone. May Parker was alone.
He didn’t know where he was going, but he had to leave his apartment. He couldn’t bear to let May see him like that again. He couldn’t… It felt too much like the first time. It felt too much like losing his uncle and his girlfriend. He didn’t want to relive it. New York’s skies were painted pink and orange as the sun began to set, but all he could think about was getting away. His feet simply walked and walked and walked, his mind in a haze until finally, finally, he stopped at the headstone that haunted him for so long.
Gwendolyne Maxine Stacy
Beloved daughter and friend
March 2, 1996 - July 2014
A breath he didn’t know he was holding in escaped him. It had been nearly a decade since she died. She would’ve been twenty-seven. The air felt colder somehow, but Peter, even with his scientific mind, wanted to believe that she was there with him in that moment. He wanted to believe that Gwen Stacy never truly left. It was true, in a way. It was Peter that kept her alive, even if it was only in memory.
“Gwen, help me out,” he whispered. “Help me out, please. I can’t… I can’t do this anymore.”
He struggled to keep his composure.
“I met someone, Gwen. It was an accident. Their dog was all over the place and for some reason, he chose me. Gave me his ball to throw. And then they came along and GOD! They’re just— They’ve been nothing but kind to me, but I just can’t… I can’t do that to you. Never to you. And I know what you would say and how I’m an idiot but,” his voice wavered. “How can I ever look at anybody else the way I looked at you?”
Soft footsteps came from behind him.
“You can’t, sweetheart,” May placed her hand on his shoulder. “You can’t look at anybody that way you did Gwen. What you had with her was special. It was you and her, but that doesn’t mean you can’t start something new. Something entirely different and just as special. You know this is what she would’ve wanted for you, why would you deny her that, Peter?”
The dam broke.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—”
May held him tight. She didn’t know how long she stayed there in the cold with Peter, but the moment that little boy was left on her doorstep, she knew she would do anything for him. No longer was he little, but he was her boy, and he always will be. If she had to rub circles on his back for as long as he needed to pour his heart out to the world, she would do it. So she did.
You didn’t hear from Peter for the next few days. He always managed to evade you at work and when you did see him, he avoided your gaze and left as soon as he could instead of hanging around to chat about random stuff like he always did. You would be lying if you said it didn’t hurt. Peter was probably your first true friend in this city. He looked out for you in ways nobody ever bothered to, even people you’ve known your whole life. Peter Parker was your friend and you were determined to get to the heart of the problem and fix it.
Miraculously, you caught him just as he was about to leave the lobby. Hearing his name from your lips stopped him in his tracks, so he turned around to face you. You knew what he was going to say. It was going to be another excuse to leave and not talk to you.
“Oh, hey!” he greeted lamely. “Look, I can’t stay around for too long, I have to—”
“Cut the shit, Parker,” you hissed. If it came out harsher than you intended, you didn’t care. You deserved to know whatever it was that made him start avoiding you like the plague. “What’s going on with you? And don’t tell me it’s nothing, because it’s definitely something!”
He was caught. With nothing else up his sleeves, he pleaded quietly, “Not here. I’ll tell you, I promise, I just… Not here.”
A couple of hours later, you were face to face with his door. You hesitated to knock and as if on cue, Peter opened the door with a tired smile. His hair was damp and he was dressed in a shirt much too large for him and plaid sweatpants. He smelled of cheap bar soap and mint toothpaste. For a moment, all you could feel was him. It took all of your strength to push that thought to the back of your mind. There was a more important matter at hand, and that was figuring out what was bothering your friend.
He ushered you inside and you both awkwardly next to each other on his worn out couch. The broken leather pricked your legs every now and then through the old bedsheet Peter covered the couch with. All the confidence you mustered up throughout the day to confront him was lost now. You fiddled anxiously with the strings of a throw pillow, avoiding Peter’s gaze.
He broke the silence, “I’m sorry. I haven’t been myself recently but… what I did to you this week was wrong. Sorry. Again.”
You sighed. This wasn’t easy at all. The words came out before you could think, “I know. I just wish you would tell me. I think I deserve to at least know why you’ve been acting this way.”
Your heart thrummed in both anticipation and fear. Peter, with his enhanced everything, could hear it. That’s when he took in the sight before him. You were so gorgeous; an angel on Earth in his eyes. You, so beautiful in ways he didn’t think was possible, sat in his living room because you were concerned. May’s words of wisdom echoed in his mind. She was right. What he had with Gwen was special, she was his first love, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t form something new. It took all this time to realize he wanted to build that with you. Your eyes told him everything you didn’t say out loud. You cared. You cared, you cared, you cared. He loved you.
Peter Parker loved you. He just had to figure out a way to say it.
He was sure he looked weird in that moment. You stared at him so intensely, trying to figure out the enigma that was his emotions. His hands found yours and the first thing you could think was how warm they were. He squeezed, as if trying to reassure himself that you were real and that this was happening.
“I lost someone. She… she was my girlfriend,” he began shakily, trying to find the right words to describe the massive lump of something in his chest. “Her name was Gwen. We met in high school. All these years, I’ve tried to hold on to her. You know, to keep her alive in some way. It wasn’t until recently that I realized that maybe I was doing more harm than good.”
There it was. It was all out in the open now, bits and pieces of his heart sprawled out across the floor as he waited for your reaction. Thousands of scenarios ran through his head, all of them ending in you leaving him alone. Each version of you in his mind reflected the guilt he bottled up for nearly a decade, screaming at him and cursing him for the things he’s done and the things he couldn’t do. Then he felt your arms wrap around him. He didn’t even realize he was already crying.
“Peter Parker, you are a good person. I might not know the full story, but if she loved you as much as you loved her, then I know for a fact that she would want you to be happy. You deserve that. She deserves that.”
You prepared yourself for his protest; for him to rebut everything you just said. You hoped you said the right thing but nothing could’ve prepared you for what he said next.
“If you keep saying things like that, I’ll fall in love with you even more.”
It was so quiet, just a little above a hushed whisper that you could almost fool yourself into thinking he didn’t say it if it wasn’t for that fact that his hold on you got tighter. He must’ve seen the confusion on your face because he spoke again, “I hated myself for falling in love with you because I thought it was a disrespect to Gwen’s memory. I wish I couId say I didn’t see it coming. I always knew I would love you. I just didn’t want to see it.”
For a few moments, the two of you just stayed there, his confession lingering in the air you breathed. It might be a trick of the mind, but you knew it was sweet. Peter pulled away; too kind, too selfless, too afraid to consider the possibility that you might just feel the same.
“Peter—”
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
“Peter—”
“—ruin everything we had, I just couldn’t—”
“Peter!”
He gulped, clearly not expecting you to stop him from rambling. In his mind, you deserved an apology. In yours, you deserved a chance to speak.
“Peter,” you spoke softly, trying to reassure him that you weren’t offended in any way. “Have you ever once considered that maybe I like you too?”
Ever since he got bitten by that spider, Peter learned to tune out the stimuli in his environment. It used to bother him so much; hearing and smelling and feeling everything all at once got overwhelming. Now, when all his senses pointed back to you, he finds he doesn’t mind at all. In that moment, he was so sure he’d die a happy man if your face was the last thing he ever saw. It took him a while to respond to your own confession, too wrapped in all of you to think clearly.
He asked you if you were sure. You said yes. He asked you again. You kissed him.
The feeling of your lips on his both grounded him and blew him away. Somewhere in between that make-out session, his hands found yours. He decided this felt right. Maybe Peter will never fully overcome his own insecurities, and there was a lot of them. He was worried he was too tired, too beaten-down for you… and that didn’t even begin to describe the fear he felt knowing that you would have to find out about Spider-Man at some point. Again, he was reminded of your friendship and your kindness. You had given it to him so freely. He just needed to take another leap of faith and learn to trust himself as much as you did.
When November came, Peter didn’t find the air so chilly anymore. Not with you around.
#tasm!peter one shot#tasm!peter x reader#tasm spiderman#tasm!peter x you#andrew garfield#peter parker x reader#andrew! peter parker#marvel fanfic
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Yet another @incorrectmadrigalfamilyquotes moment lol
Idk what it is with me and the "blank stare then response" bit. I love it too much so I had to add one. The Office probably did it to me tbh
#bruno would 100% say something dumb like this and be 100% serious#instead of uncle jokes it's just uncle brain farts#all the time#like did you really just say that?#go take a nap#now#you goof#my encanto fanart#my skeebie deebies 💕
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From @Fallenfurther
to @vegetacide
Secret Santa does not own this work, full credit to the author above!
A night to remember
The crackle of snapping wood filled the air as John threw yet another chunk of driftwood onto the fire. Embers flew up towards the darkening sky, swirling on the gentle sea breeze. The smell of the sea competed with the smoke when Alan inhaled, but that was okay with him. His eyes were on his fingers as he scrapped the toasted marshmallow on his prong onto a graham cracker. A smile crossed his lips as he turned it upside down and onto the chocolate that he’d placed on top a second cracker. Squashing the sandwich between the fingers he took a bite. The sweet crunchy treat hit the spot and he devoured it hungrily, sucking off the bits of marshmallow that had stuck to his fingers, before reaching out for more supplies.
“I’d be careful getting that close to Gordon, Penelope. You might find you’ll never get a s’more!” Virgil joked, as he toasted two marshmallows at once.
Laughter rippled around the circle, as Lady Penelope settled down in the sand beside Gordon and allowed him to drape the offered blanket over her shoulder. She pulled it in closer, as Gordon wrapped the other half around himself. The two lovebirds, as Grandma called them, smiled contently at each other as Penelope rested her head on Gordon’s shoulder. Winters on Tracy Island were rarely cold, but they often involved late nights around a campfire when there was enforced downtime. It was a family affair, everyone coming down to the beach, to spend the evening in each other’s company. Alan had memories of it happening before Dad disappeared, though he’d only been present for some of them. They had stopped for over a year after Dad had disappeared, but as they grieved and learnt to continue without him, they started to occur again. It had been a way of bonding, remembering, and forgetting the troubles of the world. This was the first enforced downtime since Dad’s rescue that they were able do one, and his brothers were eager to take Dad down to the beach. So here they were, nine years since the last one, all older, wise and yet they were still the same family. Even though it still felt weird to Alan, having Dad around, it was okay. Everyone he cared for, except Brains who rarely joined them on the beach, was here.
“Or he’ll let one rip like he did to me last time!” Scott chuckled before raising his beer to his lips.
“Hey! That was so not last time, it was at least a year before that, and you’d just stolen the last marshmallow.”
Alan giggled at the memory. Scott had indeed taken the last marshmallow, and Gordon had sidled over and given Scott a side hug, in an attempt to relieve their brother of his freshly made s’more. Instead, Scott had pulled Gordon into a big tight hug and eaten the treat over Gordon’s shoulder, getting crumbs down the Squid’s shirt. Gordon had wriggled intensely, trying to free himself from their brother, which only prompted Scott to hold on longer, even after the s’more had been devoured. An angry and frustrated Squid had subsequently let off the loudest fart, not only prompting Scott to release him but also for evacuation of the log Scott, Kayo and John had all been perched on. Alan had cried laughing, and Kayo had stared daggers after Gordon’s retreating, chuckling figure.
“Don’t remind me of the obnoxious smell. To this day, you still haven’t told me what you’d eaten that day.” John stated, in the way only he could, while entirely fixated on the careful construction of his own sweet treat.
“My bet is still on a rotten celery crunch bar.” Virgil piped in, having just passed one of his two s’mores to Grandma as he grabbed a beer from the cooler behind her.
“Remind me never to go in Thunderbird Four with you again. The filth alone makes the craft smell without you adding to it.”
Kayo chipped in; her tone entirely serious as a small shiver rocked her body. She hadn’t been there for that campfire as she had been off the island trying to track down her Uncle. There had been so many small leads that led to dead ends, but they had all needed investigating, just in case. Alan glanced in her direction where she was sitting cross-legged to the right of Virgil, her beer half-buried but upright in the sand. Scott and Virgil were leaning against a small bench they had carried down and turned on its side. They both appeared relaxed, leaning back with a beer in one hand and marshmallow topped prong in the other.
“I should hope Gordon knows how to treat his machine with respect by now. It is a rescue vehicle and should be in pristine condition, ready for a callout. Although, I could ask Brains to add extra air filters to the inventory if such foul smells are a common thing.”
The deep voice of his father still surprised Alan and always seemed to demand the attention of the room. It was something Alan was still getting used to hearing. This would be their first Christmas together as a complete family. His brothers would always say Mum was missing, and they were right, but Alan didn’t remember a Christmas with her. It had always been the seven of them for him; Grandma, Dad, his brothers, and him. His Dad was currently sitting on a blanket next to Grandma, who had one hand on his arm, almost as a way of keeping him there, and her s’more in the other. She had changed, in a good way, since Dad had come home. She pestered them less and chased after his father more. Dad always got first pick of her cooking creations, her excuse being he needed to make up for lost time, and Alan was not going to complain about it. The fewer of Grandma’s cookies placed under his nose the better.
“There is no smell in Thunderbird Four and she is perfectly clean and ready for duty.” Gordon proclaimed.
“So, you wouldn’t mind if I do a quick inspection first thing in the morning?” Dad countered.
The sheepish look that crossed Gordon’s face briefly told the real story, though it was Penelope that tried to save his brother from the mess he’d gotten himself in.
“That will not be necessary, Jeff. I was in Thunderbird Four earlier and gave it the once over. I can confirm that it meets all the required standards and is ready for immediate deployment.”
“Sure you did.” Scott grinned, wiggling his eyebrows.
Heat rose in Alan’s cheeks as Penelope shot Scott a glance that radiated pure distaste for his vulgar mind. She managed to glare in the most ladylike way, but Scott just laughed. Alan just tried to get the thought out his mind. He did not want to know what his brother and Penelope did in their spare time; he was simply happy that they were happy.
“I do remember you getting yourself into awkward situations as a teenager.”
The sly grin on the space monitor’s face had Scott glaring a challenge at him. Scott had never been that open about his teenage years to Alan, though he had heard a few stories that had been told around the campfire. He’d also heard a few second hand from Gordon who remembered that time better or had eavesdropped on their older brothers’ conversations.
“Don’t even go there.”
“I was only thinking of the time you got stuck in that tree trying to retrieve the model plane Alan had crashed into it. That woman really didn’t appreciate you hanging from the branches.”
John’s voice was dripping innocence as he lent back on his elbow. Scott shook his head.
“I was worried when she called her husband, and so glad that he saw the funny side.”
“I remember that. The poor woman was distraught, despite her husband’s reassurances. She wanted to get the police involved. Thankfully he said was a waste of time because you were still technically a minor, it really was just a misunderstanding, and you were only in the tree for the plane. I had you apologise at the time as well as write an apology letter that went with the hamper I sent over.”
Scott groaned as Dad relayed the facts, his head falling into his hand.
“How could I be so stupid?”
Scott had indeed gone up the tree to fetch the remote-control plane, which Alan had accidently got stuck in its branches. Alan had told Scott the wind had taken it, but he’d actually been trying to show off to Gordon by doing some tricks. Only he messed them up and sent the plane crashing into the top of a tree. He’d tried to climb the tree himself to get it down, but it was impossible as Gordon refused to help him. In fact, Gordon had laughed and chuckled the entire time, especially when Alan had to go up to Scott and his girlfriend and disturb their make-out session. Scott hadn’t been happy but had reluctantly gone up the tree to retrieve the plane. Unfortunately, a branch had snapped while Scott was up there, and he’d lost his footing. He’d ending up hanging upside right in the line of sight of the woman’s bedroom window. Scott’s relationship hadn’t lasted long after that either. His girlfriend had posted a running commentary of Scott’s ‘heroics’ on social media, including photos of the husband rescuing him, and she refused to take them down until a week later when Dad got involved. Scott had been upset by the incident and apparently some of his friends hadn’t been kind to him about it either. Alan had felt terribly guilty, knowing it was all his fault, but when he admitted it to Scott he was rewarded with a hug. Scott told him not to worry and was glad that he was no longer with such a horrible girl. They had spent the rest of that evening playing videogames together, his big brother trying to show of his skills and failing spectacularly.
“At least she got to eat her hamper. I remember quite distinctly receiving a lovely chocolate hamper that I never got to enjoy.”
Grandma’s voice was full of jest as everyone turned towards Gordon, who just shrugged awkwardly beneath the blanket.
“I was young, hungry and it was chocolate. What was I meant to do?”
“Gordon Tracy! How could you be so mean to your Grandmother? I hope you replaced it.”
Alan sniggered along with his brothers as Penelope berated Gordon for his actions. There was a grin on Parker’s face, who was observing the couple intently over the rim of his beer. As her ever faithful companion, he always had Lady Penelope’s back. A little bark came from Sherbet, who had woken up from the nap he’d been having on Parker’s discarded jumper. There had been a grumble from the man about the fact that he’d only put it down for a second before the dog had claimed it. Alan hadn’t quite caught all the words, but it had sounded along the lines of ‘mangy mutt’. Penelope opened the blanket to the pug and allowed him to wriggle in and curl up on Gordon’s lap. Gordon gave Sherbet a scratch behind the ears as the dog settled down with a yawn.
“Was that not the Christmas that Virgil got stranded at his friend’s ranch by the massive snowstorm?”
John shifted as he spoke, leaning back to snatch a chocolate bar and beer from the open cool box. The beer he passed to the man in question, who accepted it grateful. It was his father that answered John.
“I believe it was. Mum and I went out on the tractor, as we had an old snowplough attachment, to some poor folk who’d gotten caught just a few farms over, so we ended up heading over and picking Virgil up too. It did mean we were out longer than expected.”
“Giving Gordon time to eat all the chocolate while under my watch! I caught him trying to make the hot chocolate, but I didn’t realise it was Grandma’s when I took over to stop him making any more mess on the hob. I got grounded because of him.”
Scott recounted with a sign. There was a clatter of glass as Scott dumped his and Virgil’s empties in the allocated recycling bag, before continuing.
“Thankfully, that little hill was technically on our property, so I could still go sledging with everyone the next day. I remember the snow being so deep we had to carry Alan and we made a family of snowmen near the house.”
“I remember that,” Virgil interjected, “You and I raced the sledges while John judged who won. I had Gordon with me, and you shared yours with Alan.”
“And they both fought us for control. How many times did we almost hit each other?”
“Too many. I had to roll us off more than once, especially when Gordon had us going straight towards that big tree. Though I think Alan took it a step further when he tried to take you both off by steering you into the fence.”
His eldest two brothers were chuckling at the shared memory. Alan had a few memories of snowy winters in Kansas but had no idea if he remembered that one. It sounded familiar, but he couldn’t tell if it was that day or another similar sledging day. They all seemed to merge into one in his head. He could only separate a few out as specific years thanks so unique events. Like Gordon’s bright yellow and orange wool hat that he got for Christmas only to lose it two months later, and the last winter before moving to the island as half the house was packed away and they had all enjoyed the snow for the last time together. There had been one Thanksgiving and Christmas on the island with Dad before the accident, so this would be the second. It felt weird to Alan. In a way, moving to the island was the start of his life without Dad. He had been at boarding school for most of the time and was only home-schooled after they had lost Dad.
“Don’t forget the time Gordon aimed for me.”
There was a smile on John’s face and a glint in his eye that let Alan know there were no hard feelings, and no one had been hurt.
“Though I think my favourite was when Alan dragged Dad onto the sledge and demanded he be taken to space.”
Alan’s ears pricked up at his name as a deep chuckle rumbled from his father.
“There was barely enough room for Alan once I’d gotten on that sledge, but we made it work. You managed to slip between my knees and yelled ‘To the moon!’ as we were pushed off. You were so disappointed when the ‘rocket sled’ got to the bottom and hadn’t launched into space.”
There were smiles on everyone’s faces while Alan’s cheeks reddened. His Dad’s blue eyes were on him, and Alan swore there were tears in them. He didn’t remember that day, but he did remember looking up to his astronaut father. Alan had loved the time Dad had made for him, when they would sit together, and Dad would recount his stories of space. He also remembered his Dad getting busier, and that time becoming less, as Dad started to set up International Rescue. John had filled in, telling Alan of the stars, while Scott, when on leave from the Air Force, told him of the thrill of flying in planes and going superfast. However, for Alan, there was nothing faster or cooler than a rocket.
“Remember Alan’s first Christmas when we were decorating the tree with Mum?”
Scott asked the group, though his eyes were on Virgil, obviously expecting him to have the clearest memory.
“Yeah. Mum was trying to keep Gordon from running around and breaking everything while we were emptying the boxes of decorations. She’d left Alan on the mat with some toys thinking he’d be happy and safe there.”
“He’d been oddly quiet at the time when you think back.” Scott slipped in, “We wanted to get the lights on the tree, only to find Alan had managed to roll over to them and was lying on his belly happily chewing on them.”
“Mum had rushed over, and Alan had screamed his lungs out when she’d managed to pry the light from his mouth.”
“He had refused to let go of them as well, to the point that we almost didn’t have lights on the Christmas tree. Mum managed to coax the wire through his little fingers, though we all spent the next five minutes trying to find a suitable substitute to stop Alan from crying. John then had to check over the lights, but Alan was too young to do any real damage, but Gordon managed to scatter baubles everywhere in the meantime.”
Alan watched his brothers gleefully relay the story between them. There was a hollow feeling in his chest at the mention of Mum and him. He’d been told how much she’d loved and adored him, but this was the first time this story had ever been told. Not that there were many to tell. His brothers had been young so didn’t always remember things and Dad; well, he’d always struggled to tell stories about Mum. It’d gotten better recently, but there still weren’t many of him and her. A hand fell on Alan’s shoulder and he turned, half expecting Scott to be there. He had to blink when it was his father, who lowered himself onto the sand beside him. The similarities between Scott and Dad were striking and Alan felt guilty for not thinking of his father first. It was no longer Scott’s responsibility to worry after him now. The hand slid along his back and pulled him into a side hug.
“You okay, son?” His father whispered into his ear.
Alan nodded, his head brushing against this father’s shoulder. There was no way Alan could express how he felt, especially not here and now, but the warmth that was seeping through from his father helped. It was new and it was different, but he had his Dad again. A Dad who was trying hard to fit back in and get to know his sons again. His father was being careful about not getting in the way or treading on their toes. Maybe Dad felt the same concerns that he did. Maybe next time they gamed together Alan would bring it up. He wondered if any of his brothers had asked how Dad was coping. He bet Grandma had and was paying close attention to their interactions. His father’s hand rubbed the top of Alan’s arm, bringing him from his thoughts and Alan shifted closer to the astronaut.
“Talking about Christmas lights, I remember a December morning when a certain someone woke up strapped to the bed by a large tangle of lights. Fancy reminding me of how that came about Alan?”
There was a sparkle of mischief in his father’s blue eyes as he peered down at Alan, who gave the man a big grin back in return. Alan remembered that morning well, especially how hard it was to not giggle as he carefully wrapped those lights around his brother’s bed.
“You mean the December Scott was been a really moody teenager and didn’t want to spend the day decorating the house with his family? Apparently, his girlfriend was more fun and a lot less annoying than us, and that he’d rather spend the day with her.”
Alan enjoyed taking the lead on the storytelling, especially when he got a satisfying groan from Scott, who appeared to have forgotten the events of that day until now. Alan’s body rocked as his father chuckled.
“Gordon and I only wanted to help cheer you up and fill you with the same festive cheer we had. The night before, we collected up every string of lights we could find and hid them in my room, before setting our alarm clocks for seven am. We snuck into your room, quietly unravelled the lights, then we each started wrapping them around you and the bed. We wrapped them tight enough to stop you from getting out. Our PJs were covered in dust from wriggling under your bed, but we managed, and we even found an extension cord and plugged some of them in. Your room lit up with some many colours and cheerful flashing lights, it was the most festive thing we’d seen that year. You almost woke up too, trying to turn over. We snapped a few pictures, turned off the lights and your alarm before we snuck back out to my room where we fell on the bed laughing. Your angry cry of “GORDON!!” had been the loudest in a long while, though you weren’t happy when it took so long to free you. You ended up missing the time with your girlfriend. Dad told us not to cut the lights unless we were prepared to buy new ones, which we weren’t, and you couldn’t afford new lights as well as a present for you girlfriend. We did get to spend the day decorating the house together, so the prank worked!”
“Leanne refused to wait for me saying if I really cared about her, I would be on time. She dumped me four days later for a guy two years older. At least I hadn’t brought the present yet, so I didn’t waste my money.”
There was a little bitterness in Scott’s voice when he mentioned her moving on so fast. If Alan remembered rightly, they had been dating for almost a year until that point, though it must not have been going as well as Scott thought considering how quickly she replaced him. Bet she wished she’d made it work now he was the commander of International Rescue, though for all he knew she could still be bragging about it. Gordon had insinuated on many occasions to Alan that not all the business trips their brother took were all strictly business, though the fact that Scott often returned stressed and with more ‘urgent’ paperwork made Alan doubt Gordon’s claims.
“That was the year you all ganged up on your father in that snowball fight, practically making him a snowman! You all came back inside red in the face, damp, and shivering. I had to get out so many extra blankets and make so much hot chocolate to get you warm again.”
“But you do make the best hot chocolate, Mum.”
“Seconded!” Scott cheered, raising his bottle to the sky.
The stories and drinks continued to be passed around the fire, which John packed high with the last of the dry driftwood. The stories were now from more recent times, tales from the past eight years without Dad. The gentle rocking from his Dad’s chuckles reassured Alan, who offered his own versions into the mix. When goosepimples covered his arms and legs, Grandma wrapped a blanket around him and Dad. Even on a tropical island the evenings were cool, especially when you are still in shorts and a t-shirt. Alan’s head was comfortable against his father and he started to fight his eyelids that kept trying to close. It was a battle he lost.
******
When his eyes flickered open again, the fire was dying. Alan was still beneath the blanket with his father’s arm firmly around him. He yawned as he rolled his stiff shoulders. Blinking, he took in his family who still circled the fire. John and Grandma were cuddled up in a thick patchwork blanket, while the legs of Scott, Virgil and Kayo were cover by a striped one, as they all lent against the bench. Lady Penelope had fallen asleep in Gordon’s arms, though they had acquired a second blanket from somewhere. Parker was still standing in the background, his reclaimed jumper now on, and there was a bucket of water in his hands.
“Shall I h’extinguish the flames now, Mr Tracy?”
“Please do, Parker.”
The fire hissed out, sending steam into the night sky. Stars were scattered above them, and Alan’s eyes were drawn to the familiar constellations. With the fire out the cold started to creep in, and his family started to move, yawn, and stretch. With practiced movements, everyone started to collect their belongings and rubbish, shaking sand off everything and heading towards the path. John and Grandma held coolers, Virgil and Scott took each side of their bench, and Alan grabbed the rubbish bag as Kayo grabbed the recycling. Gordon coaxed Sherbet off his lap before sweeping Penelope into his arms and carrying her away. Sherbet and Parker, bucket still in hand, followed close behind them. As Alan started up the cliff path his Dad’s arm returned to his shoulder. He was staring up at the stars though Alan couldn’t place which constellation he was gazing at.
“It’s good to see these stars again. Did I ever tell you about all the nights Lee and I would stargaze on Alfie? There was the observation deck with this massive glass window in the ceiling, and we’d lie beneath it….”
Alan smiled, remembering the story well, but wanting to hear it again. There was something special about the way his Dad told it.
#thunderbirds are go#thunderbirds 2015#tag team secret santa#secret santa 2020#alan tracy#Gordon Tracy#Lady Penelope#Scott Tracy#John Tracy#Virgil Tracy#jeff tracy#grandma tracy#kayo kyrano#parker
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Alex ze Pirate “Mini Review” 1: About Male Abuse
Alex ze Pirate is in my opinion the WORST “comic” series Dobson has ever written up until this point (date for archives: June 2020). Sure, I agree with people that his “hot take” comics on Star Wars Fans, political issues and virtue signaling for the sake of making brownie points are worse overall cause they are uneducated propaganda that give insight in how much of a loathsome human being driven by spite he genuinely is, but Alex “offends” me as someone who enjoys fiction. It may not be the worst thing ever written, but it just does so many things wrong in terms of storywriting, storytelling, presentation and creating fictional characters, I can’t help but wonder what went wrong that Dobson even remotely thought this thing would be a “successful” comic series to establish him as a creator. Cause I can tell you, having read the likes of Don Rosa’s work on Disney, Hilda, Cleopatra in Space, Spirou, Asterix, One Piece (of which I will talk a lot in my next few posts) and many more, I can confirm by comparison that Dobson’s pirates as a published comic would have only one use on the public shelves: alternative for toilet paper during the COVID-19 epidemic
Believe me, I would love to write an in depth analysis of everything wrong with Alex ze Pirate, from the lazy artwork up to even the publication history of this trainwrack. But doing so would take a lot of time and there is one individual part of this I think deserve at least extra attention. Something that in my opinion embodies quite well a lot of things I consider wrong with this comic. So before I am going over Alex in its entirety (and believe me, the day will come) let me just talk within the next few posts about one certain aspect and story of the comic, that genuinely got me to loath this comic to the core: Sam the Cabin Boy and “his” own individual story Dobson drew in three parts around 2010.
For starters, lets talk who Sam is: Sam is one of the main characters in the comic and actually the first person who joined Alex and Peggy in the initial pages of Legends, the “original” form of Alex ze Pirate.
See, back in 2004, Dobson released Alex ze Pirate in form of a single comic volume called “Legends” which features Alex trying to recruit a crew. The thing is around 78 pages thick and based on what I saw pretty terribly paced. For comparison: When Luffy in One Piece got his crew together, he spend multiple volumes and at least three minor story arcs to get Zoro, Nami, Sanji and Usopp to join him. All while also giving us good insight into the kind of people his new crewmates were (especially Sanji’s and Nami’s backstory got to me), defeating the likes of Buggy and Captain Black, meeting Dracula Mihawk and defeating one of the biggest bastards Eichiro Oda ever created in form of Arlong. What is the story how Sam joins the crew? An orphanage organizes an auction and sells kids off. Which I assume was even illegal in pirate times, so kudos for already showing us how despicable the world of Alex ze Pirate is to begin with and how much it deserves to be nuked in some sort of alien invasion.
Sam also doesn’t really get anything to do when he is introduced, just helping Alex escape on a small boat. Which is weird because he does not know her at all, she is just some stranger who bought him off and has no means to keep him in check, so why even bother following her and not let the mob get rid of Alex?
Anyway, I wish I could tell more about Sam’s involvement in Legends, but I don’t have really more than some scans of it in the beginning and near the end. So I don’t know his involvement in the rest of the volume. I also can’t say how he plays out in volume two, because that does not exist at all. Cause for reasons I will never understand, Dobson just abandoned the idea of telling a “coherent” and ongoing story with Alex ze Pirate and instead went to his colored one page comics/strips with it, turning it into what some people called “Garfield with Pirates” (which I consider a genuine insult towards any newspaper comic out there, even something as Boondocks). And the first thing we see of Sam in “classic” Alex ze Pirate?
The perverted dwarf of the crew showing of his shota underwear so that Alex and Sam stop bickering who is the cutest, leaving him embarrassed and humiliated.
Which kinda sums up his role in the comic to a t. Cause this is what Sam is: He is the buttmonkey of the crew. And honestly, I would not have a total problem with Sam being a buttmonkey, if a) he wasn’t it all the time, b) he would actually do something to deserve any form of humiliation and c) if the other characters in this comic itself would not be some of the biggest assholes I have ever seen, who get away with abusing the poor lad.
See, here is the problem: In a crew featuring a choleric homophobic soulless ginger
A black rat person who wants to fuck the ginger even without her consent
A furry abomination that has the same brain wavelengths as Chris Chan
And a perverted dwarf who tries to impersonate Happosai from Ranma 1/2
Sam is the only decent person in the entire crew. He works hard, he even questions the morality of his friends at times, he is honest, he is not perverted, almost good to the point of childish innocence and he has a very humble “goal” which is he wants to own his own piece of gold. Not even a big pile of treasure, just one single coin would be enough for him.
So he is likeable and relatable. In fact, if anything goes by, he may have been one of the most popular ones in the comic. And yet he is the one who gets constantly abused by “fate” and his friends, because as Dobson would say it, he is supposed to be the buttmonkey. There is just one problem: People do not necessarily like buttmonkeys.
I can primarily speak only for myself here, but I hope what I have to say resonates with others too. See, I get it: A character who is the butt of a joke can be fun. Like Daffy in Duck Amuck. But there is a fine line where a character being humiliated for the sake of a joke is fun (and perhaps even deserved because of his own shortcomings or deeds/actions that make the humiliation sort of kharmic, like lets say Johnny Bravo) and a character being humiliated to the point it feels disproportional, unfunny and mean spirited if not outright sadistic, can be crossed. Take Meg Griffin from Family Guy for example whose only “purpose” for existing within the last 12+ years is to get shat on by her family and the writers. People have no idea for a plot with her, so what do they do? Have her father physically and emotionally abuse her, fart in her face for what is supposed to count as a joke and then add additional insult to it by acknowledging that they are only doing this, because they have no other idea for her and think abuse is fun. Let me just tell you from experience, it is not.
And that is essentially what Sam is: He is the Meg Griffin of Alex ze Pirate, used by his creator as the butt of very unfunny jokes, even if he does not deserve any of the things said or done to him. Want to see some examples?
How about the description Dobson gives Sam within the introduction of one of his volumes, showing how little Dobson as the creator even cares for him.
Why is he called an unworthy “slob” if he is the only one who actually works? Shouldn’t a slob be someone like Dobson, who can’t even take care of himself anymore? Also the confirmation that he was kidnapped at the age of 16. And as we have no clarification how much time passed between Legends Vol. 1 and anything afterwards, that means that in a way Alex is a child abuser.
And now, here some examples by the rest of the cast. Like Uncle Peggy framing him for all sorts of his perverted actions and even trying to kill him for no apparent reason?
Alex trying to kill him with chicken pox…
…Destroying all his worldly posessions which is hilarious because he is a poor orphan…
…Essentially describing him as worthless because he was born with an Y-chromosome…
… doing the kind of thing Dobson claims women would never do to man, using their sex appeal to hurt them…
…forcing him to do some unnecessary and rather petty work for her in a physics defying manner (seriously, the way he holds the axe does not compute with how he swings it. Try it out yourself)
… stealing his food and just being a cruel sadistic cunt to him just because it is fun.
Which is “funny” in so far as that there are a few comics indicating she would jump his dick and ride it like a little pony if she could.
By the way, Talus and Atea are not better. None of them calls Alex out on her bullshit on average, Atea uses Sam to trigger traps in one story arc…
And Talus, the closest to a “friend” he is supposed to have, once for no apparent reason made him dig through his litterbox
And don’t get me even started when the characters decide to gang up on Sam, to the point he gets sexually harassedor is called to be less worth as a human being than the dirt you find in your belly button
Fuck’s sake, even in fanart everyone gangs up on him, even the freaking big bad of the story everyone is supposed to hate or be afraid of
Bottom line, Sam is an abuse victim played for laughs in this comics. And just to clarify, I do not think this was Dobson’s intention. But if the character is undeservingly the butt of jokes for the majority of over 120 strips, it turns nasty. The way Sam is treated, I just find disgusting and indictive of just how unlikable any other character in this comic is to the point I do not want to see this being turned into a proper “franchise”. And I assume others were disgusted by it too, cause Dobson eventually decided to make a story more or less addressing the treatment Sam receives, while also attempting to prove that deep down the assholes with starring roles in this trainwrack care for him. How did this play out? Well, I am going to talk about it, so likely not well. If you want to see the details, grab yourself some popcorn and take a toilet break before we tackle part 2 of this thing.
#andrew dobson#so you are a cartoonist#sjw#comics#comic#webcomic#alex ze pirate#sam the cabin boy#legends#tom preston#disgusting#male abuse#unfunny
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The Apprentice - Part 1
| Parts 1-4 Available on Ao3 | My Ao3
Fandom: Dragon Age
Characters: Lark Trevelyan, Damion Amell
Warnings: Major Character Death, last chapter. Not shown. Otherwise entirely SFW.
Description: Newly made Enchanter Damion Amell of the Ostwick Circle takes on a young fellow pyromancer, newly arrived to the Circle, as his first apprentice.An apprentice whose actions would one day come to shape Thedas itself.
The First Enchanter sighed, as she set the documents on the table. The only reason her counterpart wouldn’t push for Tranquility with this one was because the Trevelyan name held weight. A lot of it. The girl’s uncle was the Knight-Commander’s cousin or something of the like. The family was wealthy, influential, and it was well known that Bann Trevelyan continued to dote on even his ‘wayward’ children.
Not that being a mage was what made one wayward but young Lark Trevelyan had difficulties with her power. Unique abilities and presentations of magic were not nearly as uncommon as the Chantry wished to believe. Most mages leaned heavily towards some category or other.
It was just as well that the girl was not under the Madwoman’s watch either. Young pyromancers often had difficulties with control, ones that would have earned them the brand rather than patience.
“Enchanter Amell,” she greeted as the young man entered her office.
Damion Amell was a Kirkwaller who had been moved to Ostwick due to family politics as a child. Which was just as well as he was the Circle’s other resident pyromancer. She’d apprenticed the youth while writing frequently to her old friend Vivienne to complain of his airheaded nature and how few of her robes were left without singes.
He was brilliant though, and had well earned his newly appointed title of Enchanter despite his youth.
From what she had heard of the other Amell siblings it was much the same. The youngest was on the difficult path of becoming a spirit healer. Twin brothers in the Antivan Circle had both made names for themselves as illusionists – performing before the Antivan court despite their youth and lack of Harrowing. Gawain and Tristan would not be powerful mages but as jesters and performers they already had amassed more political pull than any of the others combined. The last of the brothers, Aristide, had found himself in Montsimmard and seemed uninterested in pursuing the heights that his siblings were reaching, though she knew of him from Viv’s mentions that the boy had a far sharper tongue than anyone with so little rattling around in their brain deserved.
Damion Amell was recently returned from Tevinter. (A return that had surprised her, she’d suspected when he approved his request to study with their brethren at the Minrathous Circle for two years that he would refuse to return at the end of it.) With his return the mage had taken the qualifications as an Enchanter and kept out of trouble far better than he had during his time as an apprentice.
“First Enchanter,” he greeted cheerfully, blue eyes flicking about the room, before resting on her. “Lydia mentioned that you wanted to see me.”
“I’m assigning you an apprentice – Lark Trevelyan.”
“The fire-starter, right?” he asked, tilting his head to the side, before he went to take a seat, eyes more thoughtful than anything, “You test her for the other primal elements yet?”
“I have – there were negative reactions towards ice and water magic. The strongest reactions are with fire and spirit magic.”
“Sounds like a proper death mage,” he chuckled. “Sure you don’t want to send her to the Mortalitasi? Nevarra could use some fresh blood, too many Pentaghast’s.”
“Her family wishes her to remain close,” she frowned. “And I do not think the Trevelyan’s would approve of lessons in necromancy, Damion.”
“No, I suppose they wouldn’t,” he sighed. “A shame, I have no talent for it. I think it’d be rather interesting to see. She my neighbor in the matchbox?”
“I wish you wouldn’t call the fire proofed rooms that,” she sighed heavily. “I thought it prudent, and her family has donated a significant sum to insure the girl is afforded more privacy. She is the scion of a noble house.”
“’Scion’,” he murmured, amused by the use of the term. “I’m guessing if I don’t take over Lydia-by-the-Book is going to be assigned?”
“Yes.”
“Then the firebug’s my apprentice,” he grinned cheerfully. “Pyromancer’s ought to stick together.”
A short discussion later about what was expected of him over tea served by one of the Tranquil – Marcus, they’d come to the Circle the same year together, he’d always made fart jokes but was terrified of the Fade, but back then he’d been Markie, not until the brand had he started insisting he be called by Marcus instead – and not even an hour later he stood in front of the door between him and the girl whose future he could very well destroy if he screwed this up.
Faux confidence perfected in the fires of a Tevinter Circle as an outsider or not the idea of having an apprentice – his first – apprentice was nerve wracking.
He hesitated longer, ignoring the curious glance from beneath the helmet of the Templar on guard there.
Letting out the deep breath he knocked on the door, “Lark? I’m coming in,” he called gently before pushing the door open.
The door was made to look like wood on the outside but it was heavier than it looked, metal enchanted against fire plated the inside. Stone walls and floors entirely undecorated made the rest of the cell.
He’d grown up in one of these rooms too after all, he’d known what to expect.
The red haired girl sitting on the straw pallet was in better condition than he remembered himself being when all those years ago the woman who would become First Enchanter had entered his cell. Then again he’d come from Kirkwall, dragged away from his mother’s desperate, bruising grip in the streets of High Town by the Gallows’ Templars and shipped away to save the family from more embarrassment.
Rumor had it though that Lark Trevelyan had the good fortune that the Templar who carried her into the Circle had been her own brother. (He hoped that that did not come to stand as a betrayal in the girl’s memory, family was important, even if he barely remembered his own siblings.)
Her red hair was a tangle of curls in need of a brush, falling into her face, and her eyes were red-rimmed and nose runny from crying. Her clothes were a simple, loose night-gown like thing, meant to be easily replaced if it caught flame. He remembered hating how itchy those garments were.
He wondered if his baby sister – Sol – had grown up to look anything like this girl, though Sol was a few years older than this girl wasn’t she? Just a babe when he’d been taken away.
“Y-you shouldn’t be in here. I’ll hurt you,” she tried to draw herself up straight, to meet his gaze with imperious violet eyes that a noble daughter should have but he could see the tremble. “I make fire’s start.”
“So do I,” he smiled gently, lifting his hand up he let it ignite into flames, careful not to catch the cuff of his jacket. Tevinter’s dramatic fashion had rather caught his fancy while he was in the North, but he’d only been able to bring back so much luggage.
Those purple eyes widened in surprise, “Oh.”
“My name’s Damion,” he smiled a little, “I’m a pyromancer – like you are. I’m going to help you learn how to use your magic, okay?” The fire extinguished as he offered her a friendly smile.
“I’m Lark Trevelyan. It’s nice to meet you, uh…Messere.”
The Apprentice is complete and can be read in its entirety on Ao3.
#long post#Dragon Age: Inquisition#OC: Lark Trevelyan#OC: Damion Amell#there is a cut and my eternal apologies if the cut does not work
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Walk A Mile [4/?]
General Disclaimer
This chapter was beta-read by: Sakura’s Unicorn
The Third Hokage is already in his office when Team 7 trudge into Hokage Tower which doesn't surprise Naruto in the least. He's pretty sure the old man lives there and maybe even sleeps sitting at his desk.
If he even sleeps at all!
"Kakashi," the old man greets, nodding at the jōnin and then considering the others gathered beside him. His eyes rest on Naruto in ostrich form, and he sighs. "You just can't do anything half-way, can you, Naruto?"
"Hey!" he cries, offended. Sakura and Sasuke make noises of amazement, but Naruto isn't really surprised the old man is already up to speed.
Condor doesn't feel the same. "Wait! How does he know?"
"I know everything," the old man says importantly.
"He was probably using his hokey crystal ball to keep track of us," Naruto dismisses. "The old fart is always spying on me." He lowers his head conspiratorially. "He's a bit of a perv, you know?"
"How rude," Condor determines while the Hokage coughs in disapproval.
"So, you know what's happened to us?" Sakura asks in a hopeful tone.
"I observe events as they play out, not causes," the Hokage replies, "but given what I saw Kakashi discover, I already pursued the proper course of action."
"Yeah, that sounds only a little creepy," Naruto grumbles.
"Before we get to that, Lord Hokage," Kakashi says, "there's another minor situation that needs wrapping up. Before we arrived here, we encountered…some trouble."
"I'm aware," the old man says, waving off whatever mission report Kakashi is about to give. Naruto's crystal ball theory is looking even more plausible. "Given the circumstances, I understand why you left the bandits behind. I've already ordered Izumo and Kotetsu to gather an extraction team. The men who attacked you will be dealt with."
"See?" Naruto points out to Condor. "Creepy."
Condor nods in agreement, fixing the Hokage with a suspicious glare.
"Good to know. My hounds weren't too pleased at being put on bandit-sitting duty," Kakashi says, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly.
"Hey, who cares about that!" Naruto demands. Getting back to the village undetected already took a lot more effort and patience than he usually has. There's none left to put up with adults making small talk. "I want my body back, now!"
"Hush, Naruto. We're addressing the matter as fast as we can," the Hokage chides. There's a knock at the large door. "Ah, and here he is. Come in."
A tall man with long blond hair appears in the doorway behind them. Naruto has never met the guy, but he looks like a male version of Ino, so it's obvious who he is.
I hope he's nicer than she is. She knows where to dig in the knife and make it hurt – and not just with words…
"Lord Hokage," he greets then nods at the other jōnin. "Kakashi."
"Inoichi."
"Condor," the stupid bird pipes up, earning unimpressed glares from everyone else. "What? I thought we were supposed to throw random names out there?"
"Could you make me sound like a bigger idiot?" Naruto complains.
"Probably not."
Inoichi makes a confused face, but instead of asking, waits for the old man to speak.
"Considering the matter, I've asked the head of head of the Yamanaka clan to assess the situation," the latter tells them as he closes the door to the office.
"You didn't exactly explain the situation," Inoichi points out, his voice calm but with a definite note of curiosity. His gaze falls on Sasuke and his mouth quirks a little. "Hello, Sakura. It's nice to see you again."
Oh, yeah. She would know him. She and Ino used to be friends. Or are still. I don't even know…
"Hello, Uncle," Sakura chirps with a nervous grin. "Sorry to get you up so early."
Inoichi's eyes widen when those words come from the sullen, pale boy instead of the pink-haired girl. Naruto suspects Sasuke has never spoken directly to Ino's father, let alone referred to him so respectfully.
When Sasuke audibly smacks himself in the forehead, he's sure that suspicion is right.
"What did I tell you?" Sasuke hisses at Sakura, one green eye twitching.
"It's not like it has to stay a big secret in here," Sakura replies, sounding annoyed and defensive. "He's here to help us, so he has to know, so stop getting mad at me!"
Naruto grins.
In a span of mere hours, their team's sudden body-swap has broken down whatever unwritten rule has always existed whereby Sakura lets Sasuke get away with being a grouchy asshole. For once, she's venting her temper on Sasuke instead of Naruto.
Maybe she'll finally realise what a douchebag the guy is and start seeing me…once I'm human again, of course.
Inoichi considers Sasuke and Sakura for a second then says to Kakashi, "That's all? They've switched?"
"Oh, it's more than that," Kakashi says, inclining his head toward Condor and Naruto.
"I hope you're saying 'that's all' as a good thing," Naruto grumbles.
"Speak for yourself. I was hoping for a little more time to test this worthless hide out," Condor replies, considering his fingers. "Opposable thumbs – such possibilities!"
"Please! You didn't even know your fingers could bend until two hours ago!"
"And in that time, I've added to my list of activities I would like to try."
This time, Inoichi's eyes bulge. His head moves back and forth, trying to follow Condor's quips and Naruto's nonsensical bird noises, before offering the Third Hokage a pleading look. "Please tell me you're joking," he says flatly.
The old man makes a noise of disagreement and shakes his head. "Now you see why I did not give you the specifics until you got here. I'm sure you realise the delicate situation we're in. The fate of the village itself could be in jeopardy."
"What? Seriously?" Condor wants to know, sounding impressed.
"I honestly don't see how it's different from usual," Sasuke mutters. "Either the demon's sharing headspace with an ostrich, or the village idiot. At least one of them is housetrained."
"Why you – asshole!" Naruto howls, trying to lunge at the other boy. Strong hands wrap around his body, keeping him still, and he twists around to glower at Kakashi. Inoichi is just as annoyed with the man.
"You told them? I know you have questionable methods, Kakashi, but coming right out and disclosing sensitive information!"
"It didn't exactly happen that way."
"Don't get mad at Kakashi-sensei. It really wasn't his fault," Sakura defends loyally.
"Yeah! That jerk bird is the one with the big mouth!" Naruto agrees.
"That's eye snot laughing at nose snot," Condor retorts.
"What does that even mean?!"
"Once you get the facts and you think about it, it's really not much of a secret," Sakura continues in a louder voice to drown them out. "Anyone with half a brain can make the connection between Naruto's age and the disappearance of the fox demon. Add to it the time since the attack and the general attitude of people in the village, and the answer is obvious."
"The only reason no one's said anything is because you probably put a gag order on it, right?" Sasuke adds, addressing the Hokage. "No one's allowed to talk about it, so no one our age or younger knows. Logically, it's sound. Within half a generation, no one would even know the secret, so any enemy hoping to find out could torture us and never discover the truth."
"Oh," Sakura says, eyes wide. "I never thought of that…"
"That's because you're not a morbid psycho like him," Naruto mutters.
"Tell me about it," Condor says, bemusedly shaking his head at Sasuke.
The Hokage appears to be smiling, but Inoichi continues to look stunned. "You're taking this oddly well," he finally manages, eyeing the group of them.
"Yeah, well, Naruto's our teammate and he's saved our lives a bunch of times. Even if we've saved him more," Sakura says matter-of-factly. "He might be a total mess, but he's our mess. Right, Sasuke?"
Sasuke crosses his arms, and only grunts out a terse, "Hm," which in Sasuke-speak could mean, 'yes,' 'no,' or 'I'm throwing myself into a potentially deadly situation to show off how awesome I am.'
Naruto chooses to believe it's the foremost option and is immediately hit by a wave of gratitude toward his teammates.
Since the stupid bird opened his mouth, Naruto has been angry and terrified because he never wanted his team to know. He has enough trouble recognising the truth about the Nine Tails for himself and, despite their relatively easy-going reactions earlier, he's still anxious they might decide to avoid him. Or worse, abandon him and the team – the only true friends he's ever had. Without them, he'll never become a great ninja or Hokage, and if they were to share the information with other people? Everyone knows that there's something wrong with him, but they don't know what it is. And the idea that his teammates might be the ones to reveal that information? There would be nothing worse.
Except they've done the exact opposite. Even that ass, Sasuke, is sticking by him.
Tears well in his eyes. For the first time in his life, he feels as if there's one less burden that he needs to worry about.
Except the whole being an ostrich thing.
That still sucks.
Kakashi side-eyes Inoichi and, even with the mask, it's clear he's smirking. "You were saying about my methods?"
Inoichi mumbles something unintelligible while Naruto strides toward his teammates, tears in his eyes. "You guys…you guys are so great!"
"Ew, Naruto! Your eyes are leaking all over me!" Sakura cries, shoving the large bird body into Sasuke.
"Cut it out, moron!" Sasuke snaps and then, as Naruto accidentally treads on his foot, "Shit!"
"Sasuke, are you okay?"
"Just leave me alone…"
Kakashi emits a long-suffering sigh. "Never mind."
ナルト
"If you've all finished," the Third Hokage says dryly. "I would think this was a matter you'd want resolved sooner rather than later?"
"Hell yes!" Sakura declares, and then flushes when she realises how loud she was. "Sorry."
"Inoichi, see to Naruto and Condor first," Lord Sarutobi says, "as the issue is more pressing."
Even though she understands why (ostrich guarding a demon, after all), Sakura can't help but be impatient. Judging from the commiserating look Sasuke shares with her, he's of the same opinion.
Ino's father steps forward and places a hand on Naruto's head. When Condor makes no move to come any closer, Kakashi not-so-discreetly elbows him forward, causing him to stumble, and his head lands neatly in Inoichi's other hand.
The blond man shuts his eyes and concentrates, his expression utterly identical to the one Sakura has seen on Ino's face dozens of times. Although it's impossible for her to actually see minds switch places, when she and Ino were friends, she used to let Ino train by practicing on her and, inevitably, there is always a sudden tensing of muscles and straightening of the spine when one's mind gets moved or supplanted.
Probably a delayed neurological reaction.
It's because of this lack of response in Naruto or Condor that Sakura is the first observer to realise that Inoichi's attempt has not worked. A sinking feeling enters her stomach, growing all the worse when Inoichi removes his hands and looks grim.
"I can't," he says tensely to a chorus of disbelief. He raises a hand to silence them and continues, "It's possible the greater difficulty is because cross-species mind transfers are different. We don't use them very often for exactly this purpose. It's hard to reverse."
Yeah, no kidding. Ino once got stuck in a frog for days…
"So how do you get around that normally?" Kakashi asks.
"We'll just have to bring in more members of the clan to boost the power of the jutsu," Inoichi dismisses. "In the meantime, let's reverse the other two. Human-to-human should be no problem."
Naruto makes a complaining noise, but Condor is smug. "So, I might get a chance to eat human food before all this is over after all?"
"Don't look so pleased," Kakashi chides as Sakura and Sasuke hurry forward. Sasuke, who hates to be touched, all but fixes Inoichi's hand on his forehead himself. Sakura doesn't really blame him; she's never really liked her body, but being trapped in someone else's is a nightmare.
I promise I will never try to change the way I look ever again if I can have my own skin back! I'll never diet again! I'll stop complaining about how easy I freckle! I'll…I don't know!
Again Inoichi closes his eyes and, out of reflex, Sakura does the same, clenching her eyelids tight. She tries to focus, imagining that maybe if her mind is really intent on getting back to where it's supposed to be, it will ease the process.
It appears to be working.
There's a dizzying, pulling sensation in her head, almost like standing up too quickly. The world feels like it's tilting and there's a rush of sound in her ears –
And then she feels a disconcerting jerk throughout her entire body and her eyes spring open.
Inoichi staggers back, blood trickling from his nose, eyes wide in disbelief. "That's not possible," he says, and Sakura whirls around to stare at Sasuke to see if it worked, only to realise she's still staring out at him from his eyes. Sasuke's expression is stricken, and before he manages to force her features into a blank mask, she recognizes panic there.
"It's not just Naruto and Condor, is it?" Lord Hokage says quietly as if he expected as much.
"The technique is stronger than any I know of," Inoichi says, wiping his face. "Whatever it is, it was designed for permanence."
"'Permanence?'" Sakura whispers, horrified. It feels like an icy hand has gripped her heart.
"It isn't just your minds that have been swapped, but your souls," Inoichi says, his expression stormy. "Explain how this happened."
Sasuke's jaw is set, as if he doesn't trust himself to speak out loud without cursing or worse. Naruto is effectively mute, and Condor is smirking about the whole thing. Considering Kakashi wasn't there to witness what happened, Sakura finds herself the only one capable of telling the tale.
Forcing down her mounting fear, she quickly explains about finding the tomb with Sasuke and the fight that ensued. Guiltily, she recounts how it was her temper which shattered the shrine and likely set off the wards. At this point, she can't look her teammates in the eye or continue, so Kakashi takes over, relaying the discovery they made afterward.
"It sounds as if you stumbled on the lost tomb of Noboru Yamanaka," Inoichi tells them. "In which case, it will definitely take more than a few additional clan members to boost the jutsu. We'll need to find the exact technique to switch you back – and that will take a while."
"Define 'a while,'" Sasuke utters through gritted teeth.
"More than a few hours, I can tell you that. There are a lot of records to go through. It could be days. It could be weeks."
Sakura thinks she's having a minor heart attack because she is going to be stuck in Sasuke's body for days…possibly weeks?! Condor laughs in delight as if it's the funniest thing in the world and, finally losing his patience, Sasuke growls and lunges at the blond.
"What do you think you're doing, you lunatic?!" Condor yelps while Naruto flaps his wings angrily, yelling and pecking at them (he doesn't seem to care who he hits). With no other recourse, Sakura has to throw herself forward as well, if only to keep Naruto from gouging holes into her body.
"Enough, all of you!" Lord Third booms with enough command in his voice that even Condor freezes and looks slightly ashamed. "This is not helping the matter."
The guys all slide away from each other, and Sakura takes deep breaths. There's no point to passing out from hyperventilation.
"There's a way to reverse it and we won't give up until we do. It's just a matter of research and patience," Inoichi tells them. He glances at the Hokage. "It will definitely take a while, however. Our old clan records are written in a different dialect. We'll need a translator working on it."
"I'll have someone from cryptology assigned to the case," Lord Third acknowledges.
"While we're waiting for that, I'll speak to the older members of the clan. They might have a clue where to start."
"That's a good idea," Sakura says. "Maybe we should do that, too?"
"Sorry, Sas–Sakura. They won't speak to outsiders," Ino's father says, offering her a tentative, comforting smile. "You guys will just have to sit tight for a bit."
"'Sit tight?' That's your great advice?" Sasuke snaps. "I'm stuck in a girl's body and all you can come up with is 'sit tight?' This is supposed to be your clan's speciality. You'd think you could come up with something better!"
"Sasuke," Kakashi reprimands and Sasuke scowls, but doesn't apologise.
Sakura, on the other hand, is annoyed; surprisingly, it's not with Inoichi.
"Well, it's not exactly fun being stuck in a boy's body, either," she tells Sasuke, her hands on her hips. "Want to ask Kakashi-sensei just how 'not fun' it is?"
Her teacher makes a choking noise, but Sasuke simply turns red and shuts up. They both know she's referring to her surreal yet necessary trip to empty her bladder. What Sasuke doesn't know is that she accidentally peed on Kakashi's feet trying to figure out how to do it right, but she's so upset right now that even the fact that he's Sasuke doesn't erase her emotions spinning wildly out of control.
Also, it's somehow easier to talk back to him right now. It's like the things that bother her about Sasuke are easier to notice when he's wearing her face instead of his own. She ignores what that says about her.
"Well, we might not be able to ask the Yamanaka clan elders, but perhaps we can approach it another way," Kakashi points out quickly, evidently trying to avoid further outbursts from Sakura. "Starting with the Noboru tomb. Why was it lost in the first place?"
"Knowing the story might help us see it from a different angle," Sasuke agrees tensely, refusing to look at anyone.
"I doubt you'll find out much from that. It's just stories that were passed down by the family. A lot of it could be wrong," Inoichi warns.
"It's still a start."
"Not much of one," Ino's father sighs.
"If enough dust is piled up, it too becomes a mountain," Lord Third pronounces sagely. "You will tell us what you can – and I have some scrolls in my residence on the different clans who have joined Konoha. Perhaps there is something there as well." He considers the body-swap victims. "And perhaps I can offer you all something to eat. You must be hungry."
At that moment, Sakura's borrowed stomach give a loud protest. Both Sasuke and Condor reflexively clutch their stomachs, and Naruto gives a groan of agreement.
"And I imagine Kakashi could use a cup of sake."
"Kakashi could," their sensei admits wearily.
ナルト
Sasuke stares down at the bowl of tsumire in front of him, swallowing the lump in his throat.
On the one hand, he really is hungry. They haven't eaten since leaving that village yesterday; the impromptu body-swap made dinner a little bit less of a priority. On the other hand, there's the natural consequence of eating that he really, really wants to avoid.
He's already feeling a tightness in his bladder that doesn't bode well.
Beside him, Sakura is looking at her own bowl as if she expects it to attack. Across from them, Condor and Naruto are dedicatedly digging in to bowls of hijiki that have been placed before them. They're making an equally big mess of the Hokage's dining table, causing Inoichi Yamanaka to regard them with mild repulsion.
Kakashi, used to Naruto's eating habits, barely flinches, calmly sipping his sake.
Through that damned mask, too. Wouldn't that affect the taste?
It occurs to Sasuke that he might be the only sane person in the room besides the Hokage. And if Naruto's stories about the guy's secret perversions are true, maybe not so much.
Sasuke's stomach gives a yowling complaint and he winces. He feels a lot hungrier than he should – almost nauseous – which is odd even with how long it's been since they last stopped for food. He suspects Sakura might not have consumed as much as she should have back in the village.
She's always making throwaway comments about watching her weight, but he never thought it was more than something girls just said.
If she's been eating like a bird this whole time, no wonder she always gets in some kind of trouble. She doesn't have enough energy built up to fight!
Shinobi need to keep their strength up and, considering some of the abilities they are capable of, that means eating quite a lot. He and Naruto put away at least three times the calories of a civilian kid their age on a normal day of training; after missions that require them to use even the most basic of jutsu, Sasuke has been known to completely demolish whatever sustenance is left in his pantry.
He glowers down at the food in front of him once more and emits a resigned sigh. They're going to be stuck in these bodies for a while. If it was guaranteed they only had a day or two, maybe he could tough it out. But Inoichi effectively put the kibosh on that.
Just get it over with already!
He picks up his chopsticks and starts eating.
Sakura makes a noise of surprise, as if she either wasn't expecting this, or was waiting all along. Then, adopting a similar expression of resignation, also begins to eat. Slowly, and daintily, and taking such small bites she might as well be at a formal ceremony for all the nutritional value she's getting.
If this keeps up, he's going to have to be around her at meal times just to make sure she's eating enough to keep his body's metabolism from getting screwed up.
He shoots Naruto and the bird an annoyed look as they continue to polish off their dinner, and thinks that maybe they got the best deal after all.
"Here it is." The Third Hokage's voice brings Sasuke out of his resentful thoughts as the old man returns to the main room, balancing a large, aged scroll in his hands. "There isn't much on the subject, I'm afraid. Information that predates the village is hard to come by – until Konoha was founded, information was passed on orally."
"And still is," Inoichi says. "I'm sure the only information on the Yamanaka in those records pertains to the clan since we've been part of the village."
"That's less than seventy years worth," Sakura protests, pausing with her chopsticks halfway to her mouth. "Ino said your family didn't settle here until her grandfather was a baby."
Inoichi nods. "Yes. Which is a problem for us because Noboru existed about three centuries ago."
"That was during the Warring States period – there's no one alive who remembers that!"
"No. But most of us have been told the stories."
"Then would you mind telling us instead of beating around the bush?" Sasuke grumbles.
"Sasuke." It's the Hokage who reprimands him this time, and so he doesn't pursue it.
Inoichi shoots him a frown of dislike, but continues nonetheless.
"During the Warring States, the Yamanaka were one of the most feared clans due to their ability to possess the minds of others," Inoichi explains. Their talent was known far and wide and often used to the advantage of other clans. Even the Senju and the Uchiha commissioned us for their feuds."
Sasuke blinks at the sound of his name.
"However, what none of those other clans knew back then was that the Yamanaka used their gift to maintain a kind of immortality."
"I don't understand," Condor says. "How does your ability allow for immortality?"
"The strongest of the clan would give birth to the new generation and raise those children with the sole purpose of transferring their minds and souls. Those children effectively died as soon as they reached maturity, their bodies becoming the vessels for their elders."
"That's horrible!" Sakura gasps.
"It's a dark time in our history," Inoichi agrees. "It wouldn't have changed, except for one man—Inosuke Yamanaka."
"Wait. I know that name. I read it in a book, I think. Wasn't he the first Yamanaka clan leader to establish ties with the Nara and the Akimichi?"
"Yes. But that wasn't what he was destined to become when he was born. His father, Noboru, was the most powerful of the Yamanaka Elders. On his eighteenth birthday, Inosuke was forced to undergo the mind transference ritual. Somehow, though, he escaped."
"How?" Sasuke asks.
"No one knows. Our stories say that he was as talented as his father. Considering he defeated the ritual, I'd say he was more. However he did it, he got his freedom. Inosuke fled his people's land and lived for a time in ignominy. News spread of the growing might of the Yamanaka, who were now beginning to take prisoners from surrounding clans; people they intended to reduce to their basic functions in order to use them as vessels."
Sakura looks a little sick at the idea, but Sasuke is unsurprised. He knows that every shinobi clan has some kind of dark history and anyone who pretends otherwise is a hypocrite. His own clan is steeped in dark deeds, if the secrets he found beneath the Naka shrine are any indication. Still, the idea of robbing future generations of their bodies and wills is mildly unsettling even for him.
"Inosuke felt it was his duty to stop his people. He wandered to the clans and settlements in the area, trying to explain the root of the Yamanaka's power. He tried to rally a force to defeat the clan and end the practice that took so many lives. But those who believed him did not have the force to help him, and those who didn't believe thought he was a spy and chased him from their midst. Opposing the Yamanaka was considered suicide. Some even hoped that if they returned him to the Yamanaka, they would gain immunity."
"You humans are rather thick," Condor muses.
"Can I hurt him?" Sakura asks Sasuke. "Please?"
"I'm not stopping you."
"I am," Kakashi says, warning in his tone. He indicates Inoichi should keep talking. "So he was captured?"
"Yes. And when that happened, he decided that even if he died in the process, he would still try to destroy the clan. He didn't fight when he was brought before the elders, making them believe he had given up. They gathered everyone together to make an example of him. But when Noboru attempted to take him over, he dragged his elder into a battle in the aether –"
"The what?" Condor asks and, judging by the inquisitive whine, Naruto also wants to know.
"It's a bit like a separate plane of existence," Kakashi puts in. "The Yamanaka ability is based on their ability to navigate it."
"Exactly," Inoichi confirms. "It's said they both battled for hours but, in the end, Noboru was still too strong. Inosuke was doomed to die – until the village was attacked."
"Wait – what?!" Sakura demands.
"While the Yamanaka were busy making an example of Inosuke, two of the clans he visited – the Nara and the Akimichi – arrived in the dead of night. By combining their own special techniques, they completely decimated the Yamanaka clan holdings and wiped out the older generation."
"And that's why your clans are always together," Sakura concludes.
Inoichi nods. "Yes. After the destruction of the elders, the particular technique they used for immortality was classified as forbidden. Along with Inosuke and his descendants, the Nara and the Akimichi agreed to stand as guardians to ensure that power was never abused again."
"And Noboru?" Kakashi wants to know.
"Because of how old and powerful he was – after all, he had lived and taken many lives before his defeat – his soul couldn't simply be freed from a body. He would just possess the nearest one, without even needing to use jutsu. So, by the efforts of Inosuke and the heads of the other two clans, he was entombed in a shrine that was warded against his escape."
The silence that follows is a thoughtful one.
"But if that's what happened, what does that have to do with us getting switched?" Sakura asks.
"A defense against anyone attempting to open the shine," Inoichi clarifies. "In days of old, intruders would have been incapacitated and dealt with. As time went on, however, it was believed that Noboru had long ago wasted away and his soul passed on."
"So the shrine was abandoned," Kakashi notes.
"Yes."
"Hold on," Sasuke says suddenly, brows creased in a frown. "If we opened it and set it off, and we were the nearest bodies…"
Sakura gasps, catching on. "How do we know Noboru didn't get into one of us and he's just pretending?"
"No," Inoichi dismisses easily. "I would have noticed before when I tried to switch you back. You likely only set off the trap. I image his spirit is still locked in the shrine."
"But we will be sending a team to ensure that right away," Lord Third speaks up. "Should his escape be likely, we'll deal with it appropriately. But for you four, it's not the immediate concern. Your current circumstances are."
"You've got that right," Sakura mutters. "We've got to do something! We can't just stand around here and wait!"
"That's exactly what you're going to do."
There's a ringing silence, broken once the words sink in.
"What?!"
"CAW?!
ナルト
Following Lord Third's mandate of inaction, it's as if a room full of explosive tags has just been detonated. The three kids and the ostrich protest, their voices rising from indignant to utterly furious.
"Enough," the Hokage commands, the one word not shouted, but still able to pierce through the din. "At this point, there is no choice but to wait for headway to be made."
Kakashi winces at the mutinous expressions on his students' faces. They look like they want to throttle the old man right now and although he knows that in their current state, taking them down would be easy, he really doesn't want to have to.
"So we're supposed to just sit here. And do nothing. For days. Possibly weeks," Sasuke repeats, incredulous. "That's it? That's all you can give us?"
"It would also be best if your present circumstances were kept secret," Lord Third says, and although the wording makes it sound like a suggestion, everyone in the room knows that it's anything but.
"Why? So we don't bother you with our problems?"
"Well, that too," Kakashi speaks up, thinking quickly. He needs to diffuse the situation before his student crosses the boundary of acceptable attitude. He ignores the venomous glare trained on him, knowing that if it weren't for the new body, an activated Sharingan would be focussed on him right now.
The term 'slay with a look' makes a lot more sense once you've been subjected to one from Sasuke. He has it down to an art form – contemptuous, cold, and so full of anger that, even if his clan wasn't known for their fire jutsu, it could possibly melt shuriken…or the flesh from the bones of someone annoying him. In most cases, it's Naruto, but Kakashi has gotten a few of those looks.
He privately hopes that he never has to see what Sasuke looks like when he's truly furious.
"More practically speaking," he goes on, "it's good training and it will protect you all."
"How do you figure?" Sakura asks stiffly.
"If anyone discovers you are occupying each other's bodies, it might suggest vulnerability," Inoichi says, catching on to Kakashi's thinking. "Not just on a personal scale, but for the village as well."
"Sasuke is the last of an old and distinguished shinobi clan," Lord Third admonishes. Clearly the three adults in the room are all on the same page. Good to know. "There are many who would attempt to get their hands on him to discover the secrets of the Uchiha. Perhaps even try to take possession of his eyes."
Sakura gulps, and even Sasuke looks cautious at this.
"Without being able to move properly in his body, Sakura might leave him open to attack." The lone female member of their team hangs her head at this and Lord Third continues, "As for Sakura, she's very intelligent and knows more about Konoha and its history than many jōnin do. It's a wealth of information if she's taken unawares and, at the moment, Sasuke, your responsiveness is not up to your usual standard."
Sasuke clenches his fist.
"Foremost, of course, there's the issue of the Nine-Tails," Inoichi says. "If enemies were to discover the village's jinchūriki –"
"The village's what?" Condor interrupts, the question chorusing with Naruto's confused squawk. Well, as confused as an ostrich can sound anyhow.
Inoichi shoots Kakashi a look of disbelief.
"That actually didn't come up," Kakashi tells the blond man helpfully. Sasuke looks a little nonplussed, but Sakura seems thoughtful. She doesn't appear confused by the concept of a jinchūriki, but considering how she studies Naruto, it's possible she hasn't really thought through the exact ramifications of her teammate being one.
Inoichi pinches the bridge of his nose. "For all intents and purposes, it's an individual with a tailed beast inside of them."
"A tailed beast? You mean there are more…giant super predators out there?!" Condor demands.
"Caw?!"
"We'll discuss it later," Kakashi interjects. "If anyone knew that the Nine-Tails is currently in a body with nothing but an ostrich soul guarding it –"
"Excuse you! What's that supposed to mean?" Condor challenges. "There's that speciesism I was talking about! You humans, thinking you're the top of the food chain. My ancestors walked the planet picking their teeth with your bones!"
"It's not a matter of superiority or inferiority in this case," Inoichi says quietly. "A soul is a soul. But the complexity of the seal needed to contain a tailed beast – it involves not just melding a chakra monster with the body of its host, but also its soul."
"Let me put it another way," Lord Third says. "The seal was custom made with Naruto's soul in mind – not Condor's. And while they might be equal in every other respect, Condor's is still not the one that's tied into keeping the Nine-Tails contained."
"So, he's like a ticking time bomb right now?" Sasuke asks suspiciously. Naruto hisses at him.
"Not exactly. The seal can't be broken unless the jinchūriki allows it to weaken or some outside force does so. As I suspect Condor is not keen on interacting with the Nine-Tails –"
"You've got that right!"
"- the only thing we have to worry about is someone on the outside learning about what's happened. They could capture him and forcibly extract it."
"That doesn't sound too bad," Condor muses. "Getting rid of the fox in my head might make enjoying this meat sack a little easier."
"In previous instances where extraction of the tailed beast has occurred, the jinchūriki usually die."
"That means you, moron," Sasuke tells the bird.
Condor pales. "Oh. Well. Let's not do that then."
"Furthermore, if this ostrich is returned to his owner or even to one of our reserves, we might lose track of Naruto," Lord Third says. "Possibly forever, if a poacher were to stumble upon him at the right time."
"The point is, you guys can't show that you're vulnerable," Kakashi concludes. "Just pretend like everything is normal until we figure this out."
"Normal," Sasuke repeats, staring at him as if he has two heads. "What part of any of this is normal?!"
"What about telling our…I mean, I should tell my parents, shouldn't I?" Sakura speaks up hesitantly.
Kakashi notices how delicate she's trying to be, but even so, Sasuke and Naruto both tense up. He knows from experience that neither likes the reminder that they have no other family.
"No, you can't," he tells her. "I've met your parents –"
"What? When?!"
" – and knowing you're in Sasuke's body probably won't stop them from wanting you to stay in their house. Which would lead to questions because, to my knowledge, that's never happened before."
"Not to mention everyone else we know would ask why I was staying at your house," Sasuke adds in resignation.
"So, no, you won't tell your parents. Sasuke will simply have to stay at your home and pretend he's you, and vice versa."
"Yeah, but…" Sakura hesitates again, glancing at her teammate apologetically, and then saying, "They're going to notice if I start, um, not acting like myself."
"You mean acting like a pretentious clot," Condor supplies while Naruto nods fervently in agreement beside him.
"That is so not what I meant!" Sakura cries defensibly. "I just – it's only…we're really different, and my mother is definitely going to know, and –"
"This is a horrible plan," Sasuke interrupts.
"Look at it as continued training," Kakashi suggests. "A means of practicing your ability to insert yourself into a situation. You've all mastered the Transformation jutsu, but none of you have managed to pull off acting like your intended target after the fact."
"In undercover missions, shinobi often have to take out and replace the enemy in a way that can't be detected. Sometimes for months at a time," Inoichi adds. "There are even some who are so skilled at infiltration that they can hold out under even the most skilled interrogators."
Sasuke's face has finally smoothed slightly and, although he still isn't impressed, Kakashi finally seems to have gotten through to the logical part of him.
Good. If there were ever a day he decided to lose it and set someone on fire, it would probably be today. And I really, really don't need that.
His head throbs in agreement. As soon as he gets home, he is going to sleep. He won't even finish rereading Icha Icha Paradise beforehand.
Well…maybe just one chapter…
"You've known Sakura long enough and being on the same team has put you in close quarters," Kakashi goes on. "Even Naruto should have the ability to pretend to be her."
"Hey!" Sakura cries, offended. Kakashi isn't sure if it's on Naruto's behalf or the idea that her teammates could pull off pretending to be her.
To be honest, Naruto would have an easier time pretending to be Sakura. I doubt Sasuke even noticed until today that she wears contact lenses. For a kid with a Sharingan, he's remarkably short-sighted…
"And what's she going to be doing in all this time?" Sasuke wants to know. "Staying in my apartment?"
Sakura suddenly goes rigid, face blossoming with colour. Kakashi imagines he can see steam pouring out of her ears at the prospect of living in the home of the boy she has a crush on.
Best nip that in the bud right away. She might have an aneurysm or something.
"No. I think during this time, Sakura should stay with me," Kakashi decides. "I don't think wandering around the Uchiha compound alone is a good idea. And I can be on hand in case you have any other…" He coughs. "…issues."
This time, it's both Sakura and Sasuke that turn the colour of ripe tomatoes. They immediately stare in the exact opposite direction.
Kakashi is also very conscious of the shoes he will be throwing out once he returns home.
"B-b-but Sasuke's never stayed with you alone before! Won't someone ask questions?" Sakura inquires quickly, her borrowed voice cracking again. Sasuke's entire body shudders and Naruto cackles.
"If anyone does, our story will be that you and I are working on advanced Sharingan techniques," Kakashi answers. "In fact, if this lasts as long as Inoichi suggests, all of you could benefit from working with one another to improve your abilities. Just encountering those bandits, I've seen several areas that need improvement."
"No kidding," Sasuke mutters.
"That means no high level techniques until you are in control of yourselves," Lord Third cautions. "Even then, I would avoid all but the basic abilities."
They are all quiet at that, although the silence is more speculative than angry this time.
Naruto begins a loud, angry diatribe of grunts and bleeps. Condor rolls his eyes and sighs. "As monosyllabic as our knuckleheaded companion here is, he makes a good point. Exactly what is to be done about our situation? Am I to reside with him in his…nest? Or are we to return to that twit who believes himself to be my owner?"
"Neither," Lord Third says. "Naruto and Condor, you must stick together until a solution is discovered. I'll deal with your…well, with the individual who hired Team 7 for the mission. It seems someone promised I would remove Condor to a nature preserve, anyhow."
He eyes Sakura meaningfully.
She clears her throat and shuffles her feet.
"I will arrange for a safe location where you can both stay. I doubt Naruto's landlady will be pleased with a…guest staying with him," Lord Third continues. "And, given the serious nature of having the Nine-Tails in Condor's body, it would be prudent to add a failsafe or two to ensure the seal isn't compromised. From now until the situation resolves itself, I will be assigning a second jōnin to Team 7."
"Lord Hokage, I don't think that's a good idea," Kakashi says. "The fewer people know about what's happened, the safer."
"Yes. And under regular circumstances, I would agree. However, with the possibility of the Nine-Tails breaking free, we can't afford to make mistakes. There is one among our corps who excels at chakra repression and would be invaluable to this mission."
Kakashi's eyes widen. "You mean…"
"Yes," Lord Third says shortly. "I will send for him as soon as he returns from his latest mission."
Naruto chirrups an inquiry.
"We'll discuss it later," Kakashi tells him. He has a feeling he's going to be saying that a lot in the future.
"In the meantime, I will reiterate that this is to remain secret," Lord Third admonishes, looking straight at Sasuke. "And if it helps keep you properly focussed, consider this your next mission. A B-rank infiltration of each other's lives. Guard your secret as if your lives depend on it – because they could."
"Lord Hokage?" Sakura questions.
He offers her a grim smile. "It isn't only outsiders who might take advantage of your…condition. Don't allow them to."
"If this is such a big security issue, why don't you just send us all to a secure facility and tell people we're on a long-term mission until we're fixed?" Sasuke asks.
"Because we're genin," Sakura answers, "and our missions aren't supposed to last more than a few days. People would notice."
"And...can you imagine you four, locked away somewhere for longer than a week?" Kakashi points out.
His students give a collective shudder.
"As we learn more about the situation, we will amend our approach," Lord Hokage says. "Until then..." He trails off, orders already given, then gestures at Naruto and Condor. "You two, stay here. We have arrangements to make. The rest of you should go. I have no doubt you're tired from your journey, and you have your own preparations to make."
With that, he turns and heads back to his desk, ostensibly to begin notifying Condor's owner and calling in backup. Inoichi gives Kakashi one last commiserating look and joins the Hokage in his search for a cryptologist to be sent for immediately.
Kakashi sighs.
This is going to be fun…
つづく
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#sandaime is a wise ass#naruto fanfiction#walk a mile#bodyswap#sasuke uchiha#naruto uzumaki#sakura haruno#condor the ninja ostrich#kakashi hatake#inoichi is not amused#humour#big damn plot
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